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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground	By : cousinjean Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Het - Male/Female > Buffy/Spike(William) > Buffy/Spike(William) Views: 2581 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

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Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground

by cousinjean

Chapter Eight -- With a Rebel Yell...

RATING: NC-17 (this chapter)
PREVIOUSLY: The remaining Scoobies and MoG came together to deal with Spike & Buffy's disappearance. Lilah showed up, got her femme fatale on, and got punched in the nose for her efforts. Spike woke up and had breakfast.

A/N: If I have to tell you what song/artist this chapter's title came from, you're definitely too young to keep reading (but for the record, it's Billy Idol).

~*~

"God, I missed California." Buffy practically skipped down the street, holding Spike's hand and swinging their arms like they were children. "I missed this whole dimension. I forgot how much fun it could be."

"Hate to put a damper on it, Love, but we should get out of L.A. Won't take long for Angel to pick up our trail, if he hasn't already."

Buffy stopped. "Angel�" She frowned, her brows knitted together. Then her eyes widened with recognition. "Oh. Right." She resumed walking. "How is Angel these days?"

"Human."

"Really?" She shrugged. "So then, why do we care about him?"

"Because he's a human with resources and that make the Initiative look like a Girl Scout troop."

"Oh yeah. Fine, we can leave. But I want to do some shopping first. I have got to get some better clothes. I don't even know what's in style, but these pants are a tragedy in any era. I'm thinking something in leath--"

"Hold up." Spike stopped in his tracks, accidentally yanking Buffy back by the hand he still held in his.

"What?"

He jerked his chin toward the other side of the street, where a deal was going down.

Buffy smiled. "Speaking of fashion� "

Spike let go of her hand and started across the street. He didn't stalk, nor strut. Instead he shoved his hands in his pockets, hunched his shoulders, and did his best to look downtrodden and desperate. Shouldn't be hard. He knew he looked like hell -- enough people had told him so recently. He'd lost a lot of weight over the past year. Affect a slight tremor, a hungry look in his eye and� Presto! One predator, mistaken for prey.

The boy smiled a wolfish smile and nodded at Spike, pegging him for a new mark. The current mark was a little red-haired girl, Buffy-petite and rail-thin. Couldn't have been more than 17. Dealer didn't look much older. Spike watched as deft hands slipped the girl's money in one pocket and produced a packet from another. All kinds of things could be hidden away in a coat like that. Spike knew this for a fact.

The dealer started toward him. Spike nodded. "Help a mate out?"

"Step into my office." The boy started down the sidewalk, beckoning Spike to follow. Spike rolled his eyes. He watched until the redhead rounded the corner. The boy turned back to him. "So, what's your pleasure?"

Spike looked around nervously. He saw Buffy hanging back, watching with an air of mild amusement and curiosity. He winked at her.

"Hey, relax man," said the boy. "I know my neighborhood. Nobody here but us miscreants."

"Good to know." Spike reached out and snapped his neck.

Buffy walked up and stood over them both as Spike knelt to peel off the coat. "That was quick."

The disappointment in her voice made him smile and cringe at the same time. "Didn't want to get blood on the leather." He stood, held the duster up to gauge its size, then put it on.

Buffy, meanwhile, crouched over the body. "Still, don't want to let it go to waste."

"Ah-ah-ah!" He grabbed her arm and pulled her up. "Not this one, Pet." She pouted her adorable little pout. God, he'd missed that.

"Why not?"

"No telling what's running through his veins. And we need to stay alert, in case we have to deal with Angel. 'Sides." He caught her around the waist and pulled her close, tracing a finger down the side of her face, and then her body. "Not exactly how I'm looking to get lost right now."

She smiled up at him, evil and kittenish. Her hands grasped the lapels of his new coat as her eyes gave it a once over. "Good fit."

He pressed against her, making her gasp. "Yeh. It is."

She climbed him then, her mouth as hungry for his as she'd been for his blood. She wrapped herself around him and he held on, hands eager to touch her all over and afraid to let her go. His feet failed to navigate, what little brain function he had left too busy thinking one thing-Buffy's here-to guide them, making him trip over the dead boy and slam her into the wall. If it hurt her, if she even noticed, she gave no sign, too focused on undoing his fly. He took over, and then they were both free, and then he was in her and it was so good.

Different. But good.

He shut out the part of himself that protested that she should be warm and wet and alive for him, that missed the way he could make her heart speed up and her breath hitch. He didn't need that. He only needed her. "Buffy," he sighed. "Love you. Oh, God, Baby, I missed you."

"Spike!" she gasped. "Mine. You're� always� "

"Yours. Always." He kissed her again, tenderly this time. Slow. Eternal.

"Hey!" Another voice broke into their world and pulled them back into this one. "You two can't do that there! For God's sake, get a room!" A fat man in a grocer's apron came out of the store they were leaning up against. "Bad enough I got kids dealing their drugs on my sidewalk, now I got 'em screwin' in my window for all my customers to see. You want me to call the�" His face went pale as he noticed the body. "Oh. Is he okay?"

Spike and Buffy looked at the grocer. Then at the body. Then at each other. And smiled.

When they turned back to the grocer, he screamed.

***

A burst of wind blew open the apartment door, scattering everywhere the papers and books inside.

"Y'know, Storm," said Xander as the whirlwind died down, "Dawn does have a key."

Dawn held up her keys and jangled them for emphasis.

"Oh, sure, if you want to be all pedestrian about it," Willow grumped. "But this is safer. What if they're in there? My way, we've got surprise and distance and a hallway for runnin'."

"Not so sure about the surprise part," said Dawn, surveying the mess inside.

Xander inched toward the open door. "I don't think they're here." He stepped inside and flipped on the lights. "And I don't think they've been here. Not counting the aftermath of Hurricane Willow, it looks pretty much the same as when I was here the other day."

"I'll pick it up!" Willow said, following him inside. "Sheesh."

"Don't bother." Dawn brushed past her and headed for the bedrooms. "Not like it matters."

Willow watched her disappear down the hall. "You know," she said to Xander, "I can do this myself. Maybe you should take her home."

Xander was also staring down the hall. He ran a hand through his hair and sighed. "I offered to. But I think she needs to keep busy. Feel useful." He half-smiled at Willow. "A feeling I know well. Anyway, I'm not about to leave you alone to�" His almost-smile faded as he shoved his hands in his pockets and looked down at the floor.

"To fight Buffy?" Willow gave him a tiny shrug. "I can take her."

"That's not what I meant."

"I know."

"We're talking about� about putting a stake in� in Buffy."

Willow crossed over to the small dinette table and sunk into a chair. "Don't forget Spike."

"Believe me, I'm not. But we still don't know if� we don't know. He could still�"

"He's not showing up in my locator spells, Xander."

"But that doesn't have to mean� I mean, she could have taken him out of range. Couldn't she?"

Willow couldn't help the pity in her expression when she looked at him. His shoulders rose and fell as he heaved a sigh. Then he came to the table, sat down across from her, and laughed. Willow looked at him, confused. "What?"

"Nothing. Just� I thought we were done, y'know? Done hunting vampires, done preparing for worst-case scenarios. Done losing people."

"And that's funny because�"

"Because if I don't laugh I'm going to break down into a sobbing heap on the floor." He glanced at the hallway, then leaned in over the table. "Willow, does it really have to be this way?"

"What?"

"Can't you� I mean, isn't there something else we could� that you could do?"

"Like what? Un-vamp them?" She shook her head. "It doesn't work like that."

"No, but, Willow, you know how to restore souls."

"You want me to curse Buffy?"

"What? No! Not� not curse, but-"Willow jumped up. "Don't you remember what it was like for her the last time we brought her back? How depressed she was? And that was coming back to her regular life. You really want to bring her back and be all, 'Surprise, Buff, you're a vampire! And hey, don't get too happy because then you'll go all evil on us. But that shouldn't be a problem, seeing as how while you were out you killed your own fianc�.'"

Xander slumped in his chair. "Just forget I said anything."

"Sorry. I didn't mean-" But Xander just shook his head. With a heavy sigh, Willow stooped to pick up a handful of the papers she'd scattered around. As she shuffled them into a neat pile, she glanced through the pages. "This must be his research."

"Yeah. I'm pretty sure he was working on it when I showed up the other day." Xander rubbed his eye. "I should've tried harder to get him to quit."

"I thought I did get him to quit. But only because I really thought it couldn't be done."

"When did you talk to Spike?"

"Friday night. I told you." She grabbed another handful of papers and took them back to the table.

"Sorry, Will. I was a little distracted back at the hotel."

"Spike came to see me on Friday, to ask for my help. But I told him it couldn't be done."

Xander nodded. "Good for you. At least one of us had the strength to be the strong one."

She frowned, tossing the papers haphazardly on the table. "Yeah, well, I only told him that because I'd already tried."

"You�"

"I thought I'd be saving her, just like he did." She looked at Xander. "So yeah, if there was a way to save Buffy� to save them both? I'd do it in a heartbeat."

Xander reached across the table to take her hand. "I know you would, Will."

She just sat there a moment, holding his hand. Then quietly, she said, "When I realized I could do magic again, I was thrilled. Not because of the magic-well, partly-but because I knew he must've done it. Brought Buffy back. I was so excited I didn't even think to call you guys. Just hopped in my car and started driving. I never even dreamed that�"

Xander squeezed her hand. "Yeah. Me neither. And I'm pretty sure it's not what Spike had in mind."

Dawn emerged from the back of the apartment, her eyes newly red. Willow and Xander unclasped hands and sat up straight. "All his clothes are still here," said Dawn. "Hers too." She joined them at the table.

"You okay, Dawnie?" The look Dawn gave her made her cringe. "Sorry. Dumb question."

"They probably won't show up here," said Xander. "They're both smarter than that. They have to know we'd be waiting for them."

"I kinda hope you're right. Still, we should stick around a while, just in case."

"Sure." Xander stood up. "I'm gonna put on some coffee." He stretched, then started for the kitchen. "I wonder if Angel and Wes are having better luck. If you can call it that."

***

Angel closed the girl's dead eyes, then went to work untying her wrists. Behind him, Wesley ordered a clean-up crew. A crack team of Wolfram and Hart spin doctors would come take care of the body, make the right contacts, and make sure everybody who mattered knew that this was just another dead hooker. Nothing special about her.

He laid her out on the ground and stroked her hair back from her face. She was probably special to somebody. And now they'll never find her. It was a necessary lie, though. People had become more aware of this sort of thing in the last days before the battle, and he didn't want to start a panic. If he left her for the police, rumors would start flying all over the city, and in the press.

With a heavy heart, Angel selected an axe from the display on the wall, and took off her head.

"Clean-up's on the way," said Wesley, closing his phone. He looked around the old dojo. "We should have thought to look here first."

"Guess none of us have been thinking too clearly lately." Angel swung the axe as hard as he could, imbedding it in the wall. "We have to start showing better judgment. Before our mistakes get us all killed."

Nodding, Wesley took a deep breath. "Hanson said they'd gotten report of two bodies in front of a grocery store on the east side. One with a broken neck and one with multiple bite marks. The police are already on the scene."

"Damn it."

Wes's eyes settled on a beat up sofa. "Someone else was restrained here," he said, walking over and picking up a length of rope."

"My guess is it was Spike."

Wesley dropped the rope and closed his eyes. "Bugger."

"At least that tells us he was probably forced into it." Angel looked from the ropes on the sofa to the dead girl. "I don't know if that makes me feel better or not."

"Perhaps�" Wes began. "They said he was already off of humans, fighting on the right side even before he got a soul. Do you think there's any chance�?"

Angel shook his head. "Back then he had a chip in his head and love for a Slayer keeping him on the straight and narrow. Now he's got nothing holding him back."

"Yes, but� we are talking about a vampire who ultimately chose his soul."

"For Buffy," said Angel. "Now she's as soulless and evil as he is. Don't underestimate Spike, Wes. Before the chip, he was almost as bad as I was. We have to assume that that's what he's like now."

"Yes, of course." Wesley stared at the ropes for a long moment. Then he looked at Angel. "Do you think they'll come for you?"

Angel shrugged. "The thought crossed my mind."

"And if they succeed?"

"I know you'll take care of it." He looked Wesley in the eyes to make sure he was understood. Wes simply nodded. Angel clapped him on the shoulder. "How long until clean-up gets here?"

"I estimate another five minutes."

"We can't wait that long." Angel started for the exit. "Call the office, tell them to get somebody on the grocery store case. They might have to get into the morgue to take care of the bite victim."

"You don't want to check it out yourself?"

"No time. And get a team to sweep the east end of town. Helicopters, the works. With any luck, we've got 'em cornered."

***

Spike missed his own bike, but going back for it was too risky. Anyway, small price to pay for the sight of Buffy drinking the new bike's previous owner. Golden eyes fixed on his as she drank� head thrown back in ecstasy as her little pink tongue darted out to clean blood-slick lips� the flush in her cheeks and light sheen of sweat on her brow after she'd finished. She'd got a leather jacket out of it, too. She was head to toe leather, in fact, and the only thing that could hug her body more tightly was him. Bits of tantalizing skin peeked out here and there, flashes of thigh between the tops of her boots and the hem of her skirt, inviting cleavage peeking out over the top of her bustier. She'd never looked more mouth watering. He figured all this black leather made them look a bit clich�, but then they also looked like total fucking badasses, so that was all right.

"Where to?" he'd asked her.

"North," she'd said, after a little thought.

And so they sped up I-5 with no particular destination in mind. He felt good. Best he'd felt in a really bloody long time. It wasn't just the perfect L.A. night or the wind whipping through his hair or the strength and power coursing through his body. It wasn't even Buffy pressed up against his back, although he wouldn't feel half so good without her there.

It was that he was free. No conscience making him second-guess every little thing, filling him up with self-loathing and guilt. The faces and voices that had been haunting him since he'd gotten that good-for-nothing soul were gone. No more pain. No more nightmares. No more grief. Just him and her and the sheer joy of simply being in the world, with the power to bend it to their will. It was glorious.

Buffy must've been feeling it too. She let go of his waist, put her hands on his shoulders and stood on the seat, leaning against him and into the wind. Spike hazarded a few glances up at her. He wished he could see her in the mirrors. She pulled off her jacket and held it over her head, letting it flap behind her like a banner as she threw her head back and let loose a primal howl that made Spike laugh with glee. After a moment he joined her, giving voice to all the giddiness that had been welling up in him since he awoke.

Her hands back on his shoulders silenced him, until she swung a leg over his arm and dropped herself into his lap.

"Uh, trying to drive here, Love," he said as she wrapped her legs around his waist.

"Don't let me stop you." Her hands slid down his chest and slipped under his coat before coming back up to grip his shoulders. Spike did his best to keep his eyes on the road and keep the bike steady as her mouth had its way with his neck. "I can't wait to get these clothes off you," she breathed in his ear as one hand snuck down to stroke him through his jeans.

Spike pulled over.

"Hey!"

"Can't drive while you're doin' that."

Buffy shrugged. "So, it's a little dangerous. What's the use in being immortal if we can't live dangerously?"

Spike grinned, and patted the back of the bike. "Pet, meet our friend, the internal combustion engine. Emphasis on combust."

"Fine," she said with her trademark pout, then kissed him, her hands going to his fly and undoing the buttons. She broke off and looked at him. "But don't kill the engine." He shook his head, and pulled her back to him, fisting his fingers in her hair as his other arm snaked around her waist. Her busy little hands pulled out his cock and stroked its length, slowly, making him moan into her mouth. When she gripped his balls and gave them a squeeze, he thought he might come right there. Then her hands were on his shoulders again, shoving him away, forcing him to release her as she pushed his coat off his shoulders and down his arms, pinning them at his sides. She tugged his shirt up, exposing his chest, and he let his head loll back, arching backwards on the bike to give her better access as she bent to reacquaint her mouth with the contours of his body.

Some of the passing cars blared their horns, but Spike hardly noticed, too caught up in the wonder of Buffy. She had never ceased to amaze him during that first short-lived affair, when she'd been determined to degrade them both as much as possible. He couldn't wait to see what she had in store now that she was free of the burden of inhibitions.

She had hold of his dick again, pumping it, raking the underside with her nails. Her tongue teased a nipple. Spike almost lost it when she tugged at it with her teeth. Had to be inside her. Now. He struggled to sit up, freeing his arms from his coat before pulling off his tee-shirt and tossing it on a handlebar. Her hands squeezed his arms appreciatively as his own hands slid up her thighs, pushing her skirt higher. They caressed her hips and cupped her ass, finding no knickers to be got out of the way. In one quick, fluid motion he lifted her up and onto him, and his eyes held hers as she sheathed him, oh so slowly, taking him all the way in.

They sat like that for a moment, oblivious to the world around them. Then Spike closed his eyes and graced her face and neck with soft kisses as she rocked against him. Her lips met his with unrestrained eagerness. Gripping his shoulders, she lifted herself up until he was barely inside her, then slammed back down, grinding her pelvis against his. Spike growled deep in his chest as something more primal took over. He bent her back onto the handlebars and drove deep inside, pounding into her. She lifted a knee and hooked it over his shoulder. "Harder," she gasped, and he obliged.

The quality of light around them changed. Spike thought it was her making him see colors until he recognized the flashing blue and red. He heard the crunch of boots on gravel, but he didn't stop. Buffy was keening now, making that throaty, gaspy sound that told him she was almost there.

"All right, break it up and get off the bike."

"More!" Buffy cried, grabbing his ass and pulling him hard against her.

"I said, get off of the bike!" Spike glanced over to see a cop standing there, glowering at them. He went for his club, but a hand shot out and grabbed his throat. He dropped the club in favor of clawing at Buffy's hand. Spike watched, mesmerized, as the bloke started turning purple. Then he was only aware of Buffy tightening around him, squeezing him mercilessly as she threw her head back and screamed. He heard a loud crack, but he was free to let go now, so he did, tremors building from his center, seismic charges shooting out from his groin and exploding throughout his body.

Finally, he slumped against her, spent. He realized that both of them were panting, and he smiled. As he sat up, Buffy seemed to notice for the first time what she held in her hand. She frowned. "Where'd he come from?" She let the cop go. He fell to the ground, dead.

A scream sounded from a passing car, followed by the screeching of tires and the crunch of impacting metal and fiberglass. Spike looked over just in time to see a semi plow into an inverted SUV, followed by a chain reaction of vehicles all across the lanes losing control and slamming into each other and others screeching to a halt.

"Guess somebody should've been watching the road instead of us," said Spike, reaching for his shirt.

Buffy smirked. "I always said you had a body that could stop traffic."

He flashed her a grin. "Not sure it was me what did the stopping." He pulled on his shirt. A couple of small explosions sounded from the pileup, and a siren wailed in the distance. "I think that's our cue to blow."

She snickered, and he had to laugh at her one-track mind. "You are a saucy one, aren't you?"

"You like me that way." She leaned forward and met him with a deep kiss before sliding off the bike. She primly straightened her skirt while he did up his jeans and pulled on his coat. Getting back on the bike, she paused. "Oh, wait." She crouched down next to the cop, turned him over, and took something off his belt. Rising, she triumphantly held up a pair of handcuffs, dangling them in front of Spike with a sly smile before pocketing them.

Spike just smiled and shook his head as she climbed into her seat behind him. Making sure she was holding on, he revved the engine and peeled out, back onto the highway and into the night.

~*~
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Dead Leaves and the Dirty Ground

Dead Leaves & the Dirty Ground