All About Spike - Plain Version
This plain version is for users with very old browers, WebTV, tiny screen resolutions, or very slow internet connections.
All other viewers should use the regular version of the site.
Chapter: 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10
Sequel to Easier Said
Author's Notes: This is a sequel to my fic "Easier Said."
Beta: The wonderful Colleen.
Disclaimer: Joss is God. The characters are his. I'm merely having fun
Summary: Spike takes off for places unknown only to find an unwelcome passenger
along for the ride.
Road Tripp'n Part One
The road stretched before him like black glass, long and unending. He was moving
fast, trying to escape her pull, her gravity. A burning surged within him as
he pushed onward, scorching his dead lungs. Every drag of his cigarette added
to the searing pain until he coughed smoke like exhaust. His skin crackled and
burned as if on fire, consuming him from the inside out. Speed was his only
release. He drove with the windows down, sucking the cold air in, letting it
wash over him in icy waves. The air was manna. It cooled the burning of her
eyes, the memory of her lips. A fleeting thought of her smile and he almost
lost control of his car, jabbing the accelerator hard and clutching the wheel
like a madman.
The tires of his DeSoto barely kissed the asphalt anymore. He was
death on wheels, going fast. Faster. Wanting the distance to stretch the
pain, pull it thin so the memory of her could be bearable again.
He found himself craving blood. The thermos full of butcher's blood that Dawn
had given him, now as thirsty and hollow as he was.
How far? Spike thought. Mile marker. Three hundred miles. Three
hundred miles from her and he still felt like retching.
He traveled only at night. He had made the mistake of leaving her
during the day, of having the ruthless sun turn his car into an oven. He hadn't
gotten far before he was forced to find shelter.
It was hot enough even now. Without the respite of the cool desert air,
he would have collapsed at the wheel long ago, leaving some highway
patrolman to find an abandoned car with a dusty front seat.
Blood was definitely becoming a problem. His thirst was profound. For a
reason he couldn't fathom, drinking blood kept him from thinking of her. If he
had realized why, how similar his sudden desire for blood mirrored her desire
for him, he would have tossed the thermos and blood packets out the
window, never touching a drop. But he couldn't think, couldn't grasp the
meaning of the hunger that tormented him like a newly sired whelp. He had
finished the thermos and all six packets of blood he'd packed before Spike
realized what he was doing. He licked the bags clean, but the hunger was still
A fleeting memory of her small fingers aimlessly tracing patterns on his chest,
and he pounded the dash in frustration, gasping.
"Blood, I need blood."
At rest stops he searched for whatever made those small burrows in
the sandy earth, finding nothing. The few people he saw he growled at,
wishing the chip in his head would cease working for an hour so he could open
them up like ripe watermelons--all red and pink and sweet inside. Quench the
thirst and the dull pounding of blood in his ears.
She wouldn't like that.
The thought came to him sudden. He hadn't drunk enough blood. He
could still hear her, inside him. Hungry, inside him. The blood kept her quiet.
He had no choice. He would have to move faster now. Speed was
He drifted off again. He had just started out after sunset, after
parking under a closed overpass during the day. Road construction was good.
It kept him away from people. He didn't want anyone to see his pallid face and
dark, dead eyes. He wanted no question or looks of pity. And he didn't want
to smell the blood pumping under their skin.
However, when he started down the road again, he found that he was
strangely at peace. The blood didn't seem so urgent, and the dull motion and
steady sound his tires made going over the still cooling seams in the road,
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump.
It was a familiar rhythm. It felt like her heart beating against his chest,
a sound he used to fall asleep to. Sometimes he had imagined it was the
sound of his own heart pumping as he drifted off to sleep.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Thump...
He started, disoriented and on the wrong side of the road. He quickly
moved back into his lane, gulping the panic down into his gut, his nerves as
tight as guitar strings.
"It's about time you woke up," said a familiar voice beside him. Spike
jumped, hitting his head against the roof of the car.
"Bugger!" he said, trying to keep control of the wheel. He looked at the
seat beside him. She was there. Impossibly there, in a pleasant flowery
dress, idly filing her nails.
"I don't know why you insisted on leaving, Spike," Buffy said plaintively.
"We could be having so much fun right now."
"You're not here," Spike said, curious but defiant. I don't want her
"Yes I am, William. And stop being so rude. You used to like me..." she said
petulantly, jutting her lower lip out. It was her playful invitation to kiss,
one he rarely resisted.
I'm off my rocker, Spike thought, staring at her dumbfounded, glancing
ahead every few seconds to keep from going off the road. She smiled at him
like the bot used to with that big, white, apple slice smile. But this wasn't the
bot. And he knew it wasn't her. He was moving to get way from her. She
couldn't be here, looking at him like that. Smiling at him as if he mattered, as
if she gave a damn...
"I do love you, Spike."
The words hit him like a cold, steel hammer. He gasped and clutched
the wheel hard.
"Shut up," he rasped.
"What's wrong?" she asked innocently.
"Shut the hell up!" And she started to laugh. Pleasant at first, then
mocking. The sound grated through him, causing hot slivers to course
through his body, piercing him in every nook and cranny.
He told her to go fuck herself and she laughed harder.
"Why don't you do it for me?" she said, arching her back, jutting out
her breasts as she stretched seductively, smiling at him. Always smiling.
"Can we get some ice cream? I'll lick it off you."
When he reached a small town and found what passed for a hospital, he
pretended to donate blood. Under different circumstances he would have
been amused as a young woman repeatedly dug a needle in his arm trying to
find a workable vein.
Poor bint, Spike thought. It wasn't her fault. His vamp body simply
refused to surrender a drop of the precious liquid. As she left in search of a
more experienced hand, Spike liberated some packets of blood from a nearby
cooler, stuffing them down his pants. Once outside, he gorged himself on the
stolen booty. And waited.
Any second now.
"Did it work?" Buffy asked him sweetly.
Fuck! Fuck! Fuck! Spike ran to his car and jumped into the driver's seat,
pealing away in a screech of rubber.
"What," he replied wearily. He was forced by the rising sun to find a
place to hide out. Another hole-in-the-ground town had something in his price
range--The Starshine Motel. Cheap, dirty and not at all family oriented. The
manager took his money and shoved it in a lock box.
That wouldn't have stopped me back in the day, Spike thought grimly,
staring at the steel box. Heck, still wouldn't if he put his mind to it.
"I don't like it here," Buffy whispered.
"Good. Get the fuck away then," Spike muttered.
"Eh?" the manager said looking up.
"Nothing. Got ice?"
"Buckets over there. Machine's outside. Help yourself."
"Thanks," Spike said, trying to ignore the unpleasant odors emanating
from the manager. Spike grabbed his key and an ice bucket and went to find
The room was a dump. Certifiable, no good, sleazy, colorfully stained
"Perfect," Spike said, grinning.
"You think I'll leave just because..." Buffy stopped, making a face while
peering into the bathroom.
Spike flopped on the bed, the springs groaning in protest. Decidedly
uncomfortable, he thought. Not at all what she would want. She never
would've stepped foot inside a place like this.
Buffy, the not-so-real-fuck-I-think-I'm-crazy Buffy, sat down on the
bed, frowning at him.
"I don't like it here," she repeated.
"Fine. Sod off." She didn't. She laid down next to him, putting her head on
his shoulder. Shit, that felt real...
"Do you want to make love to me?"
"You never called it that, pet. If you're gonna pretend you're here, at
least get it right." She stuck out her tongue then snuggled against him.
He felt hot. Unreasonably hot. And the motel didn't have air
conditioning. Just then he remembered the ice bucket and got up, ignoring
her sounds of protest.
He found the ice machine outside, several doors down. He opened the
metal door and relished in the cool air released from within. He stood there,
half-swooning from the cold, then slipped his bucket into the bin, filling it.
When he got to his room, he stripped naked and laid back on the bed
again with the ice bucket on the floor next to him. Picking up a cube of ice,
he ran it slowly over his face and chest. When that melted he picked up
another. It was heaven. Cube after cube of heaven.
"Do you know how hot you look?" Buffy asked, standing at the foot of
"That's the idea, luv. Trying to fucking cool off."
"I mean, do you know how wet I am right now?"
"Suffer," he said petulantly. She grinned and in a fluid motion removed
her dress and stood before him naked. Gloriously naked.
"I know you want to," she said, still smiling.
"We can't. For one, you're not here. Two, sod off."
"What's number three?" she asked, suddenly standing on one foot as
she pulled her right leg up to the side of her head like a ballerina.
He was as hard as nails now, watching her as she grinned at him.
"Want me to dance for you?"
"No, pet," he gasped.
"Too late. I feel like dancing."
Spike woke to a distant scream. Instinctively he looked for Buffy next
to him only to find the bed--and room--empty. Panic gripped him, clawing at
his belly. Another faint scream and he ran to the door, flinging it open.
Several rooms down, under the flicker of fluorescent lights going bad,
a vampire was feeding. It took a moment before he recognized the small
blonde woman pinned against the wall as the large, male vampire drunk from
Spike crossed the distance in a flash. He couldn't remember what
happened until later. Much later. What he did remember was beating the
vampire repeatedly in the face. Smashing cartilage and bone until its vamp
face caved like a hollow chocolate Easter bunny. Thankfully it dusted, taking
most of the gruesome mess with it. It was then that he heard crying from
"It's okay, luv. I got him. Must've caught you from behind, eh?" Spike
turned to console her and found a blonde woman he had never met before,
trembling and crying in fear. Just then he realized he was still naked, his body
covered in blood and dust.
"You'll be fine," Spike said hoarsely, his throat nearly gagging on the
Fine? What the fuck do I know of fine? he thought bitterly. No, you
won't be fine. This will haunt you for years. You won't be able to sleep without
thinking about it, won't dream without repeating it. Nothing's fine. It's all
fucked up now. I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry.
Continued in Road Tripp'n Part Two
Read Reviews / Post a Review
Send feedback to Moose | Visit Moose's site | All stories by Moose
Print Version | Formatted Version
Main Site | Plain Text Title Listing | Site Map | Contact