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Chapter 5:

Spike hurried back to the motel, partly because he was afraid the Slayer would be gone, and partly because he was recovering from the horror that was shopping. Normally, he broke into places at night and stole what he needed. He'd never known the hellish masses of bargain shoppers that existed. Not to mention the overwhelming and arbitrary choices he found at the Mega-mart.

Luckily, he thought he'd gotten the Slayer everything she would need, at least for the time being. A change of clothes, toiletries, some chips, and chocolate ice cream to subdue her incase she'd gone completely crazy while he was out.

He was feeling rather proud of himself, when he realized that he'd forgotten to get her socks. Oh, well. There was no way he was going back to the Mega-mart. Ever.

As he approached the motel with his haul he opened his senses–as much as he could without vamping–to check for any signs that they had been followed. There weren't any, although he guessed roughly half the rooms were rented by people having nooners.

As he got near their room he could hear the TV playing. Right as he got to the door the TV went off and he could hear scurrying. When he opened the door he found the Slayer sitting cross-legged on one of the beds with her back to the TV. Her eyes were closed and her hands rested on her knees as if she was meditating.

"So what's on?" he asked her as he put the bags down.

"Huh?"

"The telley. Anything good on?"

"How would I know?" she asked primly.

"Come on, pet, I know you were watching. I could hear it before I came in. Vampire, remember?"

"I wasn't watching. I was listening," she insisted.

Spike snorted. "That's a pretty piece of equivocation. Sure you're not a bad guy?"

"Oo, equivocation. Kind of a big word for you isn't it, SPIKE?"

"You know, just for that, I'm not letting you have any ice cream after all. Gonna eat it all by myself."

He pulled the pint of ice cream and the plastic spoons out of the bag to prove there really was ice cream. The Slayer only shrugged. Not the reaction he'd expected, considering she'd been locked up for months, eating food most likely chosen not for taste, but to keep her alive as long as possible.

"You don't want any?" he asked, trying not to sound hurt. It's not like he had been under any obligation to be nice to her and buy her anything, much less ice cream.

"I don't eat ice cream. It's not good for you," she stated matter of factly.

He slammed the ice cream down on the bedside table. "Do you ever have any fun?" he asked exasperated.

"I'm the Sl-"

"Slayer. I know." He considered her for a minute; then he ripped open the package of plastic spoons and scooped out a spoonful of chocolate ice cream. "Eat!" he ordered standing in front of her holding it before her face.

She laughed. "You're kidding, right? What is this, some weird kind of torture?"

"Scared?" he asked, cocking an eyebrow at her.

"Please. You really think that's going to work? I'm not scared, I just don't eat sweets."

"Well, obviously you are scared." Before she could protest he continued, "What harm can one bite of ice cream do to you? None, unless you're afraid that you've been missing out on something so good that you won't have the will power to keep from eating more." He lowered his voice to add strength to his dare. "Are you really that weak willed Slayer?"

She glared at him for a minute. Then she leaned forward without breaking eye contact with him, and her lips encircled the treat. He looked down at her hazel eyes as she slowly drew her mouth back across the spoon.

The blood rushed in the direction of his cock as he suddenly found himself imagining the Slayer in a non-violent way.

She worked the ice cream in her mouth for just a minute before swallowing it down. A tiny bit of chocolate ran down one side of her mouth, and her pink tongue darted out to lick it up.

"Good isn't it?" he asked her, his voice a little huskier than he intended.

'She's the Slayer,' he reminded himself, as his mind refused to let go of images of her on her knees sucking his cock. 'She'd probably bite it off.'

But it was no use. The more he told himself that he should not be thinking of the Slayer as a potential fuck, the more he kept coming up with reasons like, how it would prove just how evil he was if he could corrupt someone as good and pure as the Slayer.

"It's good, okay. I admit it. Are you happy now?"

He sat down on the bed across from hers, and gave her his best pout. "It's just. . . I bought it special for you," he sulked.

"Well. . ." she eyed the ice cream, "I guess it would be impolite for me to turn it down."

He almost had to cover his mouth to hide his smirk. It was a small victory and Spike doubted the road to hell was paved with chocolate ice cream. But, since he had no idea what he was going to do now, spending his time trying to pull the Slayer off the straight and narrow seemed like as good an idea as any.

She took the spoon from him and took another bite of the ice cream.

Spike grabbed another spoon and started to get himself some when the Slayer protested, "Hey!"

"What?" he asked.

"You're a vampire," she mumbled through a spoonful of ice cream.

"Didn't we already cover that?"

"Vampires don't eat people food."

"They do if they feel like it–or if ungrateful slayers won't share the ice cream."

With that, he grabbed the pint from her and spun around so he was sitting with his back to her. He wrapped one arm protectively around the ice cream as he hunched over and started to shovel it into his mouth.

"Hey! I thought you bought that for me!" the Slayer whined.

He could feel the mattress shift under him as she leapt from her bed to his, and tried to reach over his shoulder with her spoon.

As he tried to shrug her off he told her, "You can't eat it all."

"Can too," she insisted over a mouth full of chocolate.

"It's bad for you. You'll make yourself sick."

"Argh!" the Slayer yelled in frustration as she shoved him off the bed. "I know it's bad for you!"

Spike couldn't help but laugh at the upside down, angry slayer sitting on his bed wielding a plastic spoon like a stake. Admittedly driving her crazy was probably not the smartest idea, but he did get a certain evil glee from it.

As he righted himself, he tossed her the carton, "Here I'm going to bed."

He tossed his spoon in the waste bin, threw his duster over a chair, and pulled off his shirt. He dropped the shirt to the floor and looked up to see the Slayer, who now sat holding the ice cream out to him with a sad puppy dog look.

"You can have the ice cream," she said apologetically.

He sat next to her, "Look kitten, I'm right knackered. I need to get some sleep before the sun goes down."

"But what am I supposed to do while you're sleeping?"

"Other than finish the ice cream. . ." He stopped unlacing his boots to look her over. "Don't take this the wrong way Slayer, but you really need a shower, not to mention to do something about this," he tried to muss her tangled hair, but it was a lost cause, "which will probably take you till sunset anyway."

She stuck out her bottom lip at him and he was suddenly tempted to bite it. Instead he nodded towards the bags. "Don't you want to see what I got you?"

She sighed and got up to rummage through the bags, making her lack of enthusiasm obvious.

He stood up as well and began to undo his jeans.

The Slayer held up the bag of chips. "I don't eat these eith-" she stopped when she looked up to see him with his jeans around his ankles. She blushed and looked down into the bags trying to busy herself with something.

He couldn't help but chuckle. He would have teased her about it, but he was too tired to start another confrontation. He slipped under the covers, and was just about to go to sleep when something occurred to him.

"Hey you're a good guy, right?"

"Yeah," she looked up slowly, until she was sure he was safely beneath the covers.

"Well, I rescued you, so no staking me while I sleep. Got it?"

"Yeah, okay. No biting me either. Promise?"

"Promise," he replied. It never even occurred to him to cross his fingers.





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