Chapter Six

by Megan

He was having that dream again. The one where he’d had to fight every impulse known to vamps that Dru didn’t cotton onto it. Not that he’d needed to worry that much. By the time they’d really taken a hold of him, sex with Dru was a thing of the past. Still, there were moments since first leaving Sunnydale when the unpredictable nature of his sire could have resulted in his dust floating around the inside of his car. Much better that she didn’t know who he thought of when he allowed his eyes to close.

It was the one where he had the Slayer caressing his cock in her hand, her warm flesh smooth as she stroked him as hard as she did her precious stake. It was his fantasy, that phallic stand in. That she’d see the value in his cock as superior to the stick she carried nightly in her hands. The feeling of flesh against his dick seemed particularly vivid this time and just as he was about to groan her name, he came to his dream senses and squeezed ‘Dru’ past his lips instead.

That seemed to go down like a lead balloon. One whisper of his true love’s name and his cock was surrounded by nothing but frosty air. Bloody cruel was what it was, and even in his dreams the Slayer didn’t abandon his predicament like a jealous suitor. By the time some of the stiffness relaxed and the ache in his privates decreased, he felt motion sickness. Weird bloody sensation to get in a dream, but he went with it, trying hard not to release all the delicious blood he’d stolen from his captive before he’d been brained by a bloody big chunk of a mountain.

He was sure he should lay off the rough and tumbles for a while as his dream leant a little closer to reality and he felt himself half thrown into some place narrow. Finally, the sensation was of his head bouncing on something firm but comfy and his feet feeling the breeze between his toes. Obviously the mix of booze, blood of the Chosen and a concussion made his dreams much too real. With a final groan, Spike succumbed to whatever it was that had him in its thrall and just hoped that when he did become conscious again it would be to a world that made far more sense than any reality he’d been in lately.

His feet were cold. Well, he was used to the non-existent circulation so he meant more that they were freezing. Wakefulness was pressing and for a reason he couldn’t account for—vampire reflexes and sonar for danger not withstanding—he felt his body tighten with a sense of anxiety. The first thing to fully register was the soothing purr of his precious. The Desoto was obviously being pushed to the edge of her capabilities and being that he was lying down, he found that prospect rather startling.

Against the hypnotic roll of his tires on tarmac, Spike became aware of a tinny off-tune voice singing to some bubblegum pop rubbish. No back-up music, no radio obviously since the Slayer had vanquished that demon, just pure off-key drivel. Which begged the question of how anyone in their right mind would memorise the lyrics to such tripe.

There was a bird at the wheel of his car. Sleep blinked frantically from his eyes, Spike’s alertness coincided alarmingly with a vicious swerve of the car. He felt himself slide, eyes wide and arms flailing in panic as he careened toward the end of the seat without the backdoor. And where the fuck was his back door? If she’d tossed it then the bitch was going to die. Blow taking her to Dru for late night munchies. He was going to have Slayer barbecued ribs while the destructive bint was barely kept alive to watch.

“Arggghhhhh—” He couldn’t stop his arse from sliding across the leather, his car doing a fine impersonation of a big metallic snake on the road. He was half hanging out the door, his back and rear getting a whipping from the wind as he clung desperately to the car frame, swearing colourfully as the Slayer tried to regain control of the vehicle.

She settled back into her lane and he glanced around, relieved to find that they were the only traffic on the lonely road—that seemed to be heading in the wrong bleeding direction.

“What the hell are you doing, Slayer?” he almost snarled, about to climb over the seat until she slammed on the brakes and he fell back in a heap of unflattering limbs.

“Oh crap, you could have warned me you were awake.” Her voice was a little shaky, and for the life of him, he couldn’t summon up the will to care.

“Was busy trying to make sure your erratic driving—and by that I mean completely fucked up and dangerous—didn’t propel me out onto the bloody Highway. You’re a fucking menace.” And he dived back over the seat, quickly nursing his shattered eardrum at her screech, and tried to wrestle the wheel out of her hands.

“Gimme back my car, bitch.” He had lost his cool—was fast approaching out of control and desperate. Spike had vamped without even knowing it, his pure demon fury in the driver’s seat even if Spike’s arse wasn’t.

“Let go, you ass!” Buffy cringed as he growled furiously and gave the wheel a sudden wrench to the side. “I’m gonna crash if you don’t lay off.” Her foot seemingly slipped from the brake and hit the accelerator and they jumped from one erratic swing to the left to another on the right.

Buffy screamed and Spike roared, completely beside himself in temper now. He took one look at her terrified expression, and shoved her hard with his shoulder into the door. The car jolted as Buffy wrenched herself back and slammed into him, sending him flying into the passenger door with a sickening thud.

His snarl and gnashing fangs declared war and Spike used his hands to dazzle her, slapping and pushing in too many places at once for her to remain concentrating on both the road and him. In one wild attempt at showing superiority, Buffy let go of the wheel and punched Spike in the jaw, almost crowing as his head cracked against the side window. Quick as lightening he snagged a handful of hair and smashed her face into his groin—stubbornly ignoring how good it felt to have her face pressed against his throbbing cock. As she spluttered and tried to push herself out of there, he spied the devilishly thin strap of her panties as they disappeared within the crack of her ass, evil intent in his smirk as he grabbed it and yanked. Her scream was pure ambrosia to the senses—until he felt hard teeth clamp around the tight denim covering his cock and he felt the miracle of bite marks sink into his rigid flesh.

“Holy fuck,” he yelled and they were airborne, careening off the Highway and nosing straight off the side into a ditch. Spike left his seat completely and his skull slammed into the front windscreen, glass shattering and sprinkling down amongst the Slayer’s hair and his lap.

“Spike, Spike!! Oh God, are you alright?”

He looked at her, blood dripping down his forehead and incredulity burning a hole in gut.

“Vampire!” he half screamed in petulance. “O’course I’m bloody alright.”

“Oh,” she conceded, turning relieved eyes to him, smiling in not a small amount of relief. “That’s good. And…you know…thanks for protecting me from going through the window.”

Was she for real? She’d practically given him brain damage just by being around her and she thought he’d actively prevented her own head meeting the same fate? He had to be hallucinating. And had half convinced himself of that fact, preparing to sit back and rest his eyes till his world was back to rights when a diamond of shattered glass dug underneath his jeans’ waistband.

“You stupid bitch. Now you’ve smashed my bloody windscreen.” He could feel tears tickling his throat as he surveyed the damage. Flecks of black paint were still shimmering against the internal light. Well, he supposed if nothing else he should be grateful she hadn’t taken him out during the day.

“Hey, you broke it, buster. Not my fault your head is pure rock.”

That just bleeding well tore it! “Well my head wouldn’t have gone through it at all if little Miss Fuck-everything-up-as-soon-as-she-looks-at-it didn’t fancy learning how to hit every inanimate object available in MY FUCKING CAR!”

Whoa! Who knew vamps could go bright red in the face.

“Get out.” He’d somehow managed to wipe all evidence of emotion from his face, completely aware that he was one fang away from tearing her to shreds, and if she honestly believed she’d walked out of all their previous encounters because of skill, she was close to getting a show of how bloody and bleeding she’d really end up with a vampire who truly wanted her dead.

The bitch blinked. If Spike wasn’t already seeing great hazes of red he’d be overflowing with blood.

“Get the bloody fuck out now,” he bellowed and Buffy scrambled to her knees and crawled out of the wide open front window, her ass swaying in his face. He wanted to bruise it bad. Maybe later, when he felt a little more in control.

Spike leapt through the gap straight after her, landing in the only bit of grace he’d displayed for he didn’t know how many hours.

“Get your scrawny arse back here and help me get her back on the road. Then, if you so much as open your trap, or even look like you’re going to lift a foot in the name of violence to my car, I’ll tear you out of there and run you down. Reverse, and run over your cooling corpse until I can get rid of some of the inner rage that right now is telling me you’d look a whole lot more beautiful fucking headless. Got it?”

Buffy nodded slowly, more than aware that Spike’s left eye was twitching and it really wasn’t a good idea to challenge a pissed off vamp who’d just suffered a head wound. Who knew what he could do only to thoroughly regret it later?

“Sure, Spike. Hey,” she said, holding her hands up to show him she was co-operating. “See me with the pushing?”

His temper hadn’t even slightly cooled by the time she realised they were heading away from Sunnydale and back to Dru. She’d let him continue for a little bit, her guilt at trashing his car a bit more enough to keep her quiet. But the next stop…he’d better watch out.

No way was Buffy going to end up Dru’s suck-up surprise pressie, even if he did call her beautiful. Sort of.