A Short Stop on the Way from Here to There

By Larilyn

Disclaimer –Characters from Angel the Series belong to Joss Whedon, the WB and UPN. I'm just taking them on a little trip. I didn't write Sin Wagon, Walking After Midnight, Baby One More Time, Sleigh Bells, or Jenny (867-5309) If I had, I'd have bought a new computer by now.

Summary – Spike's got an itch to take a trip in his newly re-corporealized body. So Fred takes him home for Christmas.

Spoilers – Through Season Five's Destiny

"Did you peek?"

Spike glanced over to his traveling companion. Her eyes remained steadfastly on the road.

"Whassat love?"

"When the Reaper was trying to send you to hell, and you left that message for me in the shower, did you peek?"

"That would be a violation of your privacy."

"You peeked," Fred accused.

"Maybe a little."

Fred turned onto Interstate 10. Spike regarded her in silence, studying her angelic features.

"So?" she prompted.

"So what?"

"How'd I look?"

"Are we really having this conversation?"

Fred shrugged. "It's a long way to Texas. We have to find something to talk about."

"And this is the subject you chose?"

"I'm sorry. Am I making you uncomfortable?"

"A little." Spike smiled at her. "But then, that was your plan, wasn't it?"

"Maybe."

"My dear Fred, I think you may be a little bit bad."

"You're avoiding the question."

"I dunno. You looked all right," he answered with practiced nonchalance. "Everything in its proper place, nice proportions. Skin looked smooth," with every word he delved further into the memory of Fred in the steam-filled shower. His last word came out as a near growl, "…supple."

"I'm not having sex with you."

Spike was shocked back to the present. "Pardon?"

"Being in a confined space for an extended period of time may cause the density of pheromones in this vehicle to increase, leading us to think that we are feeling desires that we may not really feel. Assuming of course that vampires emit hormones…"

"What if I was feeling desires before we even got into this rolling aphrodisiac?"

Fred's cell phone rang out the theme to Sponge Bob Square Pants. She quickly fished it out of her pocket and flipped it open.

"Fred's phone. Fred speaking."

"Saved by the bell," Spike muttered.

Through the somewhat static-y reception, Angel's voice was easily identifiable. "Fred? Did you take the Viper?"

"Well, yeah. You said I could take whichever car I wanted," she reminded him with a hint of apology in her voice.

"I know I did but I figured you'd take the Beemer or the Aston-Martin."

"The Aston-Martin is so me," Fred agreed, "But Spike said that the Viper would get better gas mileage and we really shouldn't waste fossil fuels. Did you know that in 200 years the world's supply of oil will be depleted?"

"That's…interesting. Spike told you to take the Viper?"

"Yeah. He's coming with me to my parents'. I know I told you that."

"When did you tell me that?"

"Between your meeting with the Golgometh demon and the merger between the coffin supply company and the vampire gang from Transylvania."

"Oh. And I said you could take the Viper?" Angel abruptly shifted his area of concern; "He's not hitting on you, is he?"

"You know, sssss I think the signal is getting weak. Ssssss. We must be moving out of satellite range or maybe we're catching interference from sunspots. They can emit a kind of geothermal radiation that can…"

Spike reached over and took the phone. With a flip, Angel was cut off.

"Thanks," Fred said.

"How's tall, dark, and broody?"

"Does the Viper really get better gas mileage than the Aston-Martin?"

Spike shrugged.

"Oh!" Fred pointed at an oncoming Buick. "Nevada! That's another one for me."

"I hate this game," Spike muttered.

"Lets see, I have Nevada, Texas, Kansas, Oklahoma, Washington and Minnesota. That's six. How many states do you have now?"

"One. California. This is a stupid game."

"My family always played the license plate game on road trips. We'd stop at little diners to eat and Daddy always took lots and lots of pictures." Fred glanced over at the moping vampire.

"You can have Kansas. We saw it at pretty much the same time."

"Hey, no pity points for the Big Bad!"

"Okay. I didn't mean to offend you. I didn't realize that proficiency at the license plate game was of such great importance to your ego."

Spike tossed a dirty look in Fred's direction and flipped on the radio.

Just hear those sleigh bells ringaling ting ting tingling too….

"No." Spike fiddled with the dial.

My loneliness is killing me I must confess I still believe…

"No."

"…ounty Sheriff's department has no leads in the murders of three women who were disemboweled and dumped near Interstate Ten. Officials are not releasing details…"

Spike switched off the radio. "Bugger."

"Disemboweled? Are you thinking what I'm thinking?"

"Nope. I am not thinking that this may be a demonic attack and that we should stop to investigate. I'm not thinking that because I am on vacation."

"Spike…"

"I saved the world, came back as a ghost, was nearly sent to hell by a spectral serial killer and went on a mission to be the first to drink the sacred Mountain Dew. In the process of which, I nearly got beaten to death by your boss, Senor Forehead. I need a vacation."

"Spike."

"You promised me Christmas dinner with Mom and Pop Burkle. Turkey and fudge and fruitcake. Not a game of supernatural Sherlock Holmes."

"Spike…"

"Oh all right," he crossly conceded, "But you better make it up to me."

"Make it up how?" Fred asked trepidatiously.

"No whips and chains love. Maybe a little something involving whipped cream."

"You're impossible."

"I'm charming."

Fred was speaking into the payphone in the corner of the dingy all night diner while Spike fiddled with her cell phone.

"I promise we'll be there for Christmas dinner, Mom. Something important came up is all… yeah…Spike has been talking about fruitcake all night. He's very excited. Listen Mom, Charles is supposed to call me back so…okay…I love you too…bye."

She replaced the receiver and asked, "Didja get the cell phone to work?"

"No signal. Must be those damned sunspots. Just out of curiosity, what did you tell the folks about me?"

"That you're a vampire with a soul like An…"

Spike scowled at her, so Fred shifted, "…a cuddly tiger cub…who can be big and scary and grrrrrr."

"Good cover."

"You know, there's nothing wrong with being compared to Angel. He's brave and handsome and…"

"Boring."

"He's not! Well, okay, he's a little dull. But I think that's more the broody thing. It's hard to be a sparkling conversationalist when you're all burdened…"

"With a soul? I have a soul. You don't see me doing a grand impersonation of a rock."

"Yeah? Well we all know you're Mr. Personality."

"Don't you forget it."

The pay phone rang and Fred snatched it up. "Charles? Did you…?"

Spike leaned in so he could hear Gunn's side of the conversation.

"Girl, you owe me big time. I had to do some serious digging to find anyone in the Sheriff's department willing to talk to you."

"Did you have a contact at Wolfram and Hart?"

"Hell, I had to go back farther than that. Guy was a friend of Kate's."

"Who?"

"Before your time. Listen. The locals are in a real tiz over these murders. This guy is only willing to talk off the record and only because Angel did some serious groveling."

"I appreciate it. When will he get here?"

"Have no idea. Stay put. He'll be there as soon as he can. And hey, Fred? Spike's not hitting on you is he?"

Spike smirked. Fred rolled her eyes and said, "Goodbye Charles."

Pretending that he wasn't listening to every word, Spike asked, "Well? We demon hunting or what?"

"Right now we wait. Want some pie?"

"You put one more quarter in that jukebox and I swear I'll bite you."

Fred smiled flirtatiously and rose from their booth. "Promises, promises."

She plunked a few more quarters and pressed a few more buttons on the jukebox and then went back to Spike.

The first few chords of the Dixie Chicks' Sin Wagon played and Spike whined, "We've already heard this!"

"So?" Fred asked taking a bite of her apple pie. "I've already had a slice of this and I think its just as good the second time around."

"Didn't they have any thing else in that box? Maybe some Doors or Zeppelin?"

"I didn't look."

Spike made a face at Fred. She responded with, "Finish your pie."

"I'm sick of pie. Where's this bloke from the Sheriff's?"

"He'll be here when he gets here. You're really impatient."

"Just now noticing?"

Fred ignored Spike's last comment. She closed her eyes and lost herself in the music of her favorite band.

Fred sang along quietly while Spike watched with increasing affection.

On a mission to make something happen

Feel like Delilah lookin' for Samson

Do a little mattress dancin'

She opened her eyes long enough to sing to Spike, "That's right I said mattress dancin'."

Spike's eyes widened in response but Fred's had already snapped shut again.

He watched her sing for another verse. She wiggled in their booth and bopped her head back and forth to the beat. He hated to stop her but, "Love, I think our man is here."

The man that entered the diner was clearly in law enforcement, even without his uniform on. He approached Fred and Spike cautiously. When he reached their table, he asked quietly, "You two from Angel Investigations?"

Spike cast a bemused glance at Fred. She wisely answered, "Yes, that's us."

As the sheriff's deputy sat, Fred introduced, "I'm Fred and this is Spike."

"Andrew Miles." He reached into his jacket pocket and produced a folder. "Here's a map that details where the victims were found. I'd give you a list of suspects, but we don't have any.

The bodies were cut open with a very sharp, thin blade. Maybe a scalpel."

"And they were…" Fred choked on the word, "disemboweled?"

Deputy Miles nodded, "More than that. Now, this isn't in the report. The victims' entrails haven't been found. He took them."

Fred blanched visibly. "Why on earth?"

"I was hoping you could tell me." Miles stood to leave. "Good luck."

"Thanks mate," Spike said.

As soon as he left the diner, Fred said, "We should call Wesley. See what he can give us off what little information we have."

Spike amused himself by reading the phone numbers on the grimy wall next to the payphone while Fred spoke to Wesley.

Ashley 555-2460

The former watcher was speaking so enthusiastically that Spike could hear him through the receiver, even without trying.

"Well, the demon in question could be doing several things. The obvious, of course, is that he is ingesting the victims' remains."

Fred replied into the phone, "Obviously."

John is a stud!

"Another obvious conclusion to draw would be that the demon is engaging in haruspicy."

"A-whatcha-sy?"

HP & GW 4 ever

"Haruspicy. The reading of animal entrails. Much in the same manner as tea leaves."

"He's divining the future using people's guts?"

For a good time call Jenny 867-5309

"I'll do some research and call you back. Oh, and Fred?"

"What?"

"I trust that Spike is behaving himself?"

"Good bye Wesley."

Fred turned to Spike. "Do you know what haruspicy is?"

"Uh, yeah," Spike thought for a minute, "it's a form of divination. Reading entrails."

"It worries me that you know that."

Spike shrugged, "One of Dru's hobbies."

"She must have been a lovely girl."

Before Spike could retort, the phone rang out, echoing against the walls of the near-empty diner.

"That was quick," Fred commented before snatching up the phone. "Wesley?"

Spike leaned close to Fred to hear.

"No Cream Puff, its me."

"Lorne? Are you calling about the demon we're hunting?"

"No no no. Wes told me where you were stuck and I was wondering if you would be willing to do the green machine a favor."

Spike looked at Fred and chuckled, "Green machine?"

Fred covered the receiver with her hand and scolded, "Don't eavesdrop. Its rude."

Spike, nonplussed, continued to eavesdrop.

"Sugar Cookie? You still there?"

"Sorry," Fred apologized to Lorne, "What kind of favor?"

"There's this joint, and believe me I do use the term 'joint' loosely, a few clicks south of where you are."

While Fred asked, "What's a click?" Spike dug out the map that Deputy Miles had given them.

"A couple of miles, Apple Dumpling. One of the regulars at the bar out there, an old honky tonk really, very vintage, he sent me a tape. He's pretty good. Thought you might check him out. Save me the trip."

"Lorne," Fred protested, "we're investigating a series of brutal murders…"

Spike snatched the receiver from Fred and spoke, "We're on it."

"Spike? I didn't know that you were traveling with our little peach pit. You aren't hitting on her, are you?"

"What's the name of the bar?"

"Would you mind telling me why we are here?" Fred asked her companion as they entered the dimly lit honky-tonk.

Spike handed her the map that the Deputy had given them.

Fred studied it for a moment before declaring, "Spike, you're a genius!"

"You forgot to mention sexy."

"I'm not sleeping with you." Without missing a beat, she added, "The murders seem to radiate out from this central point. We might find a lead here."

Spike approached the bar. Fred followed, still studying the map.

Leaning on the bar, Spike asked the bartender, "Hey, can I get us a couple of pints?"

The bartender looked confused at the request. "Eh?"

"Two drafts, please," Fred clarified.

"Coming right up, little lady."

The bartender plopped two foamy beers in icy mugs in front of the pair, but they went unnoticed. Fred was absorbed in the map. Spike was absorbed in something else.

I go out walkin'

After midnight

Out in the moonlight

Just like we used to do

I'm always walkin'

After midnight

Searchin' for you

With a husky voice, Spike commanded, "Let's dance."

Fred looked up, a bit taken aback. "Huh?"

Spike leaned in and told her in a near whisper, "The rednecks are eyeing you a bit too close. I don't like it. Want them to know that you aren't available."

I walk for miles

Along the high-way

Well that's just my way

Of sayin' I love you

I'm always walkin'

After midnight

searchin' for you

"Are they still watching me?"

"Mhm," Spike answered. "Can't take their eyes off of you, love. Can't say I blame them."

In the corner of the bar were six men. They were watching her. Every eye was on Fred. It was creepy the way their eyes followed her, and Fred didn't creep out easily. Fred tightened her grip on Spike, in response to her fear, but she had enough courage left to remind him, "Still not gonna sleep with you."

"You make me nuts, you know that?"

"Why?" she asked while she held tighter to Spike's leather coat that she imagined was hiding her, "Because I don't respond to your obvious sex appeal?"

"Yeah! Even Willow had the hots for me, and she batted for the other team."

Fred knew exactly what Spike was doing, distracting her from her fear, so she played along.

"You're not really Willow's type."

"And what exactly is Willow's type?"

"Me. You know if I had a different sexual orientation."

"Two've you would make a cute couple."

"Ya think?"

"You're a lot alike," Spike asserted.

"We are?"

"Yeah. All chipper and sweet and reliable."

"Oh great-reliable. That's a compliment every girl wants to hear. There's good old Fred, Old Faithful."

"The dog?"

"The geyser. You're thinking of Old Yeller."

"Right. Always get those two confused. Now don't look all sullen, love. Reliable's good. Take Red for instance- underneath that reliable exterior was a real spitfire. You're like that too."

For several beats Spike was in his own world. He smiled to himself. Fred had to know, "Whatcha thinkin' about?"

"I was just thinking that if I had a dime for every time that I thought of turning Willow…Don't look at me like that, I was evil."

I stop to see a weepin' willow

Cryin' on his pillow

Maybe he's cryin' for me

And as the skies turn gloomy

Night winds whisper to me

I'm lonesome as I can be

"Now that I think of it, you and Willow might be a little too obvious. You need to shake it up a bit, love. You need someone more like…"

"You?"

"Now that you mention it."

"Spike?"

"Yeah love?"

"They're still watching me."

"Yeah love."

"I'm getting a little freaked."

"We can go."

"If we do, we'll never solve these murders."

"Then we stay."

Fred clung even tighter to Spike.

"Love? Song's over. Let's sit."

Fred nodded her assent. She and Spike headed to the corner opposite the six men with the eyes that watched her.

End Part One