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(O.O)

Spike

Bloody buggering hell! I knew we should've taken my Desoto instead of this hunk of junk that Grandmum calls a van. At least my baby didn't sound like the engine was about to fall out or look like the rear bumper was held on by a thread. Plus, I had a thing for breaks that worked every time you stepped on them. Why was I stuck driving this rusty piece of soddin' crap? Oh yeah, because my bitch of a Great-Grandsire had laid down the law. She'd decided we needed to blend in with the small town American crowd, not stick out like sore thumbs and get people's suspicions all riled up. Well, newsflash you stupid bint! A rusty old van with black painted windows tended to get people's attention no matter what! I don't know how having a well maintained classic car would have made it any bloody worse.

We were driving across one of the flat states. It was boring as heck. Nothin' on the radio but fire and brimstone preachers and country music. The latter was better than silence, but I had the volume down real low so as not to disturb my family as they napped. The sun was out and I couldn't even crack the damned window unless I wanted to be vampire flambé.

Christ, I needed a fag. The bitch snoring in the seat next to me had tossed out my last pack. Darla said that she didn't like the smell. You're a vamp. You don't need to breathe, idiot! Damn it, but that woman could drive me insane. Made me wonder why I've stayed with the bird for this long. Right, okay, so I actually did know why I still hung about with the old broad. Like just about everything else I did it was 'cause of my girl.

Drusilla. She hadn't been doing well lately and had been looking worse and worse. Those damn bastards from Prague had done this to her while Grandmum and I were away. They'd taken my Dru and tortured her. First to get information on our whereabouts, then just for fun. When we'd learned of her capture it'd been too late. She'd already suffered so much damage that she couldn't recover from it, at least not on her own.

So here we were on a grand tour of the bloody colonies, heading to go see my wanker of a Grandsire, who'd abandoned us for a century, doing God knows what in God knows where. I hadn't heard from Angelus since the wanker had had me and a newly turned Lawson thrown out in sea while the bastard sailed off on the submarine that we'd been previously occupying.

Blast it! Thank you, soul, for the wonderful trip down guilt lane that more than fifty years hasn't been able to quell. It wasn't really my fault that I'd woken up last and the Prince of Lies had already breakfasted on most of the crew, but that didn't mean I didn't feel like hell about not being there to stop him.

Lawson. Hmm, I wondered how the bloke was doing nowadays. Last I'd heard he was off protecting the hellmouth in Cleveland. I guessed I'd better try and contact him so I could give him the heads up that we were on his side of the pond and aiming to meet up with Angelus. The man might even have wanted to join us in this little family reunion, though I highly doubted it. The bloke still had a sore spot when it came to Angelus, and I couldn't blame him. He got sired by the great git, then after the fledgling had done everything that'd been asked of him, the wanker had still thrown Lawson away like trash. I would've understood the bastard's actions better if the circumstances had been different, but he'd turned Lawson into a Childe and not just a mindless minion. Lawson was like Angelus' son, and he had abandoned him without a backwards glance. It was one of the worse things that a vampire could do: leaving one's fledgling Childe alone in the world to fend for itself. It would have been better if Angelus had simply staked the poor bastard back then, but no, he couldn't do it because Lawson had just helped save what was left of the crew. The self-righteous bastard had felt that that'd earned the boy an undusty existence, but not a helping hand.

Having thought about it, I really didn't get why Granddad cared about any of it. The Angelus I knew wouldn't have needed even the flimsiest of excuses to dust a fledgling, especially one that he had made. He never hesitated in putting a stake to his own kin if he didn't like how they ended up. I'd seen more than my fair share of those vamps back when I'd first been turned. Hell, I'd almost joined them a couple of times when I'd managed to royally brass the sod off. So how come he didn't just dust Lawson? Or me? And why the hell hadn't he felt like Angelus back then?

My memory of him at that time was a little hazy. Woodstock had been between now and then after all. I knew I'd been surprised to see his ass still alive, but I'd had to be a bit cautious not to let him know about my soul since I did have a cover to keep up at the time. God save the Queen and all that rot. Anyway, what I could remember was that Angelus had acted a bit off. Maybe it because he spared those sailors, though I suppose he could have had them all for afternoon tea after me and Lawson were left doing our best Matthew Webb impressions miles from shore. Perhaps it was the bit where he'd been working with humans that had had my spidy-senses tingling. I didn't rightly know. Heck, if I hadn't been able to smell him, I would've said he was a completely different demon wearing an Angelus skin suit.

Damn, but I was giving myself a headache here. I'd better stop with the tryin' to understand the demented mind of my Grandsire, because that was a no win situation. What was important was that the bastard had better be willing to help us, or rather help Dru. He'd killed her after twisting her mind worse than his own, so the bloody least he could do was to get the poor girl back to her regular self. If he didn't, well, I would be telling Darla to work some Sire voo-doo on him in order to force him into making Dru well. While we vampires might not have the best moral codes, we were all governed by the ancient laws, those oh-so-wonderful Rules of Blood.

Blood was life for us vamps, and I wasn't just talking about it in the three-square-meals kind of way, because it was so much more than that. Blood was how vampires were created, and what links vamp families together. We were all bound by the Rules of Blood, so if the laws are invoked we had no choice but to obey. It'd been some kind of soddin' miracle that the Slayers and their tweed wearing Watcher's council didn't know jack all about them so far. It'd make unlife a lot more difficult otherwise.

Since we could threaten Angelus with forced cooperation if he decided to be a royal ass about helping Dru I wasn't as worried about him as I could be. The real problem was going to be with the town's local Slayer.

I've encountered more than my fair share of Slayers in my time. Total of seven the last time I counted. Two of 'em had become really good friends of mine up until their callings caught up with them and they went to their early graves. It that means I didn't have any qualms about meeting up with Slayers. Hell, usually I'd be looking forward to it, but this time things were different. This chit hung around with Angelus, one of the nastiest vampires in history. While that made me a little curious it also made me more than a lot cautious. The icing on the cake was that there was a rumor going round that this girl gotten old Peaches to switch hats and fight the good fight.

I didn't rightly know whether to be impressed with the young Slayer's bravery or sorry for her naivety. Angelus wasn't the kind of vamp you made friendly with, not that any vampires really fit that bill, but with Angelus, kindness would only be a pretense that would eventually result a bad and untimely end for the other party involved. So yeah, this Slayer was in for a whole load of trouble, and here were me and my family driving right towards the impending crap show. So we needed be prepared for anything and everything. Probably it'd be either Angelus' homicidal tendencies or a Slayer on the war path after she'd been double crossed. Neither one was especially a cheery thing for the denizens of Sunnydale. Whether or not I really cared was a moot point since according to Dru we have this big, sacred responsibility to protect these people. It's our duty since we were the Guardians of the Balance for Good. It's a dumb name, but I didn't have the heart to tell my girl that since she came up with it. I'd be whatever she needed.

I shifted uncomfortably in the van's worn out seat. Damn, I really bloody need a fag.

The song on the radio changed to one I recognized and I began to sing along softly.

You've got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, know when to walk away, and know when to run…

(O.O)

A/N: So that's it for this chapter, it's shorter than the others but I hope I did Spike justice. I am really grateful of the wonderful reviews you guys gave me, and so happy that no one thought I wasn't screwing this up. Again thank you all and most especially Sunalso for being an amazing beta. You helped a lot! Anyway see you all in the next chapter! Good bye.

P.S. Mathew Webbs is the first dude to swim the English Channel in 1873. And the song at the end is entitled "The Gambler" by Kenny Rogers.

Thanks again! See ya!