Escape

Disclaimer: I don't own anything related to BTVS or ATS. Joss owns all, the only thing that's mine are my own wacky ideas :)



Buffy Summers was 18 years old the day her life changed forever.

It had just been another typical, uneventful day. She'd been working her usual shift at the diner. Business had been slow, as usual, so she never looked forward to making a lot of dough in tips. But the job gave her enough money to pay her rent and buy food, though just barely.

The night was moving painfully slowly, and as Buffy cleared away the dishes from a recently vacated table and pocketed the five dollars left behind as her tip, she heard the door swing open.

When she turned to see who it was, her mouth fell open.

It was him.

Noticing that he was gazing at her with a lopsided smirk plastered on his face, one that seemed almost predatory in nature, Buffy knitted her eyebrows together in curiosity as she watched him. The man stood at about average height, and despite not being Buffy's usual type (which most often consisted of tall, dark haired men), Buffy couldn't help but admire how gorgeous he was. As she had for the past 3 nights he'd been coming to the diner.

His were quite possibly the bluest and most expressive eyes she had ever seen, framed with thick lashes and dark eyebrows, one of which sported a prominent scar that seemed to speak of some sort of violence in its past. His face was chiseled to perfection, full pink lips, hollowed cheeks that fell under the shadow of cheekbones that were so well defined they looked as though they could cut glass. His hair was a shocking platinum color, obviously not natural, and it stood out in stark contrast against his rather monochrome outfit. Black jeans, tight black t-shirt that hugged the hard lines of his stomach, black leather duster to top off the ensemble. His looked screamed bad boy, and in effect, it had Buffy's mouth watering. As he strode toward his usual seat at the booth just inside the door, Buffy couldn't help but admire the way he moved. He didn't walk, he swaggered, a strut of pure confidence and sexual prowess, as though he knew exactly what he wanted and knew exactly how to get it.

Though indeed Buffy felt an instant attraction toward the mysterious stranger, she also couldn't contain the annoyance she felt over his strange behavior. For the past three nights, it had been the exact same thing. He'd walk into the diner, flash her his mischievous grin and slide into his usual booth. But whenever Buffy would come to take his order, he'd merely say, "No thanks, luv. Not hungry tonight." Then, after a few minutes, he'd simply disappear, leaving a ten dollar bill on the table that was obviously intended for her, despite the fact that he hadn't even ordered anything.

Tonight, she suspected, would be no different. But this time, she was determined to find out why.

Pausing quickly to pull her small hand held mirror from her pocket and make sure her long blond hair was perfectly in place, she flipped the mirror closed and strode towards the blue eyed hunk's table with assurance, her chin raised confidently.

"You gonna actually order something tonight? Or just play Mr. Mysterious as usual and disappear in the next few minutes?"

Spike didn't answer her, he merely thrummed his fingers on the table softly, as though he had an eternity to just sit there.

"Hello, pet." His voice was low and laden with a soft British accent that made her actually tingle. She had a feeling he could read the phonebook out loud and it would still sound sexy.

Though the tingles quickly faded to pangs of annoyance as she noticed, much to her chagrin, that he was not looking anywhere near her face. His gaze instead seemed to be drinking in her appearance, blatantly admiring her body with a hungry gleam in his eyes, and when he darted out his tongue to swipe at his lips, she felt a flush creep onto her face. When his gaze came to rest on her chest, Buffy crossed her arms in front of her, suddenly feeling very exposed and very annoyed.

"Listen," She said, finally catching his gaze with malice in her eyes as she spoke, "Either order something or leave."

He cocked a scarred eyebrow and smiled smugly, as though to say, "And what are you gonna do about it?" It was infuriating. Buffy suddenly had to resist the very strong urge to punch him, to wipe that stupid smirk off his face. But instead she just held her ground, seething on the inside.

"Ok, fine," He replied after a long pause, his eyes once again lingering on her chest, though this time he leaned forward slightly, "Anne," He read the name written in small black letters on her name tag. Tilting his head slightly, he couldn't help but think how utterly delicious she looked as her face flushed with her increasing anger.

'Wanna play with this one,' He thought.

"I'll have the spicy buffalo wings."

Buffy's nostrils flared slightly, pursing her lips as she spoke to him through clenched teeth. "We don't serve that here." Though she knew he probably already knew that. It seemed this person just wanted to get a rise out of her, and she realized she was falling right into his trap.

"Alright then." He merely shrugged, pausing to stare at the chipped black nail polish that decorated his fingernails.

"Well, Anne," He said, once again stressing the name. "Reckon if I leave an extra ten tonight you'll give me a lap dance?"

Buffy's eyes widened, her chest heaving as she marveled at the nerve of this infuriating stranger.

"You - how dare you! You perverted, disgusting!..." She sputtered, her face bright red. "You know what, Captain Peroxide, why don't you get the fuck out of here before I kick your ass out of here?"

The stranger wagged a finger at her. "Don't think so, Goldilocks, not the way it works. See, you said 'order something or leave.' I ordered. You didn't have it. We're square."

Buffy's hands were now on her hips, and she was getting closer by the second to risking a few weeks in prison if it meant she'd gotten the satisfaction of beating this man into a bloody pulp.

"What's your name?" She demanded, forcing as much authority as she could into her voice.

"Spike."

Snorting loudly, Buffy shook her head in disbelief as Spike continued to glare at her in slight amusement.

"Oh my God, you've gotta be kidding! How in the hell do you come up with the name Spike?!" She put a hand to her mouth, trying to stifle her giggles. "No, let me guess. You recently got into a bar fight that landed you several weeks in prison, where you were trapped in a cell with some tattooed trucker named Bubba who gave you the nickname Spike. But only after you told him you got arrested for torturing people with railroad spikes so he wouldn't make you his bitch."

Spike observed her tirade in silence, seeming to be thoroughly enjoying himself, judging by the smile curling on his lips.

"Something like that," He answered cryptically, not wanting to give away anything more.

Letting out a loud sigh, Buffy glanced at her watch, realizing with much relief that her shift was almost over.

"Listen, Spike, tell me exactly what you're doing here and exactly what it is you want."

"Nothing you're willing to give," His tongue curled behind his teeth suggestively as he said this, "Yet," He added in silky sweet voice.

Buffy clenched her fists at her sides, every muscle in her body tensed and poised to fly at him at any moment. "And what the fuck is that supposed to mean?"

He didn't answer, merely cast her a devious smile as she continued to glower at him. Reaching inside his duster, he pulled a lighter and pack of smokes from an interior pocket, proceeding to light up right in front of her.

Now Buffy had really had enough.

"There's no smoking in the building!" She exclaimed, leaning forward to yank the offending cigarette from his lips, which caused Spike to react instantly. Before she knew what was happening, he'd grabbed her wrist roughly and yanked her forward so hard she was knocked off balance, falling forward and catching herself on the table with her free arm. Though her upper half was now bent over the table, the arm he held in a death grip pinned behind her and she realized that, for the moment, she was at his mercy.

Suddenly, she gasped as she felt his mouth graze the shell of her ear, his breath cool and his smell intoxicating, a mixture of leather, smoke, some sort of alcohol, and a spicy cologne that tickled her nostrils. As he spoke into her ear, an involuntary shiver ran down her spine.

"Touch my things, blondie, and lose an arm," He hissed in her ear, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up. But this time the shudder that coursed through her wasn't from being turned on, but from the pure malice dripping from his voice. For the first time, she actually felt threatened by him, realizing he could be some psychotic killer for all she knew. But she silently cursed her fear, refusing to show him any vulnerability.

"That so?" She challenged. Twisting her arm free of his grasp, she used the momentum to give a mighty upward thrust of her elbow, catching Spike in the nose, but only slightly satisfied as she saw him scrambling for napkins on the table to stop the blood from gushing.

Now the other few people in the diner were looking. Even Michael, the resident chef, was poking his head out of the kitchen to see what all the commotion was about.

"Bloody hell!" Spike yelled, reaching for another handful of napkins as the red fluid pouring from his nose soaked through the first wad of napkins. Not even batting an eyelash, Buffy remained glued in place with a triumphant smile on her face, determined to put this asshole in his place. Noticing he was looking at her over the mass of napkins, she was surprised to find that he didn't look pissed. In fact, he looked… thrilled?

"That's my girl," He whispered as he dabbed at his nose, having successfully slowed the flow of blood. "Knew you had it in you."

Buffy swallowed hard against the growing lump in her throat, her heart throbbing in her ears and her palms suddenly inexplicably clammy as she clenched and unclenched her hands at her sides. This man was still making her more uncomfortable than she cared to admit, and she realized she needed to get away, fast.

Suddenly, Buffy saw through the diner window the most welcome sight she'd ever seen. It was her coworker, Melinda, pulling up in her beat up truck. Buffy's shift was finally over.

Not saying another word to Spike, Buffy scurried away as fast as she could into the back room, not pausing to greet Melinda or even tell anyone she was leaving as she quickly grabbed her purse and jacket and exited through the back door.



A/N: Hey guys, for those that have been reading my other fic, Wherever You Will Go, I haven't stopped working on it, I promise. Though as I've been trying to write it, the idea for this story just keeps popping in my head and distracting me, so I just needed to squelch the plot bunny first, lol. This fic isn't going to be long, maybe 3 or 4 chapters, but if the response is good enough and I have some more ideas, I might make a sequel... Anyway, hope you guys like it! I'll have another chapter of this, as well as WYWG, posted soon. So please review and let me know what you think! :)