France is that way?

by Harry Lime

Spike & Harmony meet for the first time and give the Watchers Council a much needed kick in its complacency.

3. Quantum Leaping.

France is that way?

Part III

HARMONY: …Listen, Spike ... I'm desperate.
SPIKE: Desperate, are you?

HARMONY: Come on, Spike. Pretty please? I'll do anything!
SPIKE: Anything, will you?
HARMONY: Yeah! I said I'll do anything.

Spike raises his eyebrows.

HARMONY: Ohhhh. You mean will I have sex with you? (shrugs casually, like "duh") Well, yeah.

She lights up a cigarette.

SPIKE: Taking up smoking, are you?

HARMONY: I *am* a villain, Spike, hellooooo.

(Out of my mind.)

Every city that had a substantial occult population had a bar like it. Sunnydale had Willy's Place, Los Angeles had The Caritas, and Rome had the Amon Amore…

London had Balthazar's.

As Spike led Harmony down the stairs and away from the rising sun she looked at the carpet with immense distaste.

'Eww. Tartan.'

Spike span round and hissed at her. 'Yes, bloody tartan.' He pointed at a blue flag with a white cross that was hanging from the ceiling. 'And that is the Cross of St.Andrew, meaning the owner of this establishment is very proud of his Scottish heritage and as we need his help I would be immensely grateful if you kept your trap shut while we're here!'

Harmony was puzzled. 'Scotland, that's the sticky out bit under Wales right?'

Balthazar's was a place where all species could congregate without worrying about anyone ending up on the menu. Demons, humans, even vampires were free to mingle and relax in each others company, confident that they didn't have to worry about killing each other until they got two paces outside the front door.

'So what is he?' whispered Harmony as they went in.

'A kelpie, a Scottish water demon, you probably won't have seen his kind before so try not to draw attention to his looks.'

The place was in full swing with a crowd that was mostly vampires who had been too far from home to make it to shelter when the sun rose. As Spike and Harmony entered dozens of separate conversations tailed off in the space of two seconds.

Forty pairs of eyes, six pairs belonging to the same demon, glared at Spike with a mixture of suspicion, fear, anger and straightforward bafflement.

'Morning all,' he said chirpily as he made his way to the bar. 'Oi, Lurch,' he called to the barman, a seven foot tall zombie, 'how's about some service?'

Clawed hands grabbed his arm and span him round to pin him against the bar.

'Who do you think you are coming round here?' snarled a drunken vampire that had several rings through his left nostril. 'Every Watcher in town is looking for you and you waltz in here with some yank bitch…'

The vampire didn't get any further as a huge hand enveloped his head and pulled him into the hair so fast his shoes fell off.

'NAE FIGHTIN,' bellowed the voice of the hands as it hurled the vampire across the bar where it landed against a bricked up window and slid to the floor. 'AND YEZ WATCH YER FOCKING LANGUAGE IN FRONT O'THE LASSIE, YE KEN!'

Spike gave the newcomer a smile. 'Alright Balthazar.'

To his left he could hear Harmony's gasp of surprise as she gazed up at the nine-foot tall horse-headed demon. There wasn't a square inch of Balthazar that wasn't taut blue-skinned muscle and he was completely naked except for a kilt and a crude woolen vest.

The demon swung his snout toward her, pulled his bestial mouth into something approaching a smile, and ran his hands through his mane of bright orange hair. 'Sorree aeboot that luv,' he rumbled in a more gentle tone. 'As canae stand bastards what swears in frontae lasses.'

's'okay,' she squeaked, Balthazar's eyes were jet black and by far and away the most intimidating thing about him. They made him look even deader than the zombie behind the bar.

'Stevie,' the kelpie snapped at the barman, 'get the lady whaever she likes. Um gonna have a wee word wi'this gobshite oot back.'

The zombie made a noise that came out as a string of es's and began pouring Harmony a pint of lager as Balthazar lifted Spike up by his collar and dragged him into his office.

'Siddoon,' he said as he dropped the vampire on a moldy old sofa in the corner of the office. 'And whose aboot yez tell me wha ye doin here?'

Spike waited until the kelpie closed the office door before he spoke. 'Laying the accent on a bit thick aren't you?'

'Aye well,' said Balthazar in lighter tone that had only a hint of Scottish brogue. 'The customers expect it, I moved doon here from Aberdeen over three hundred years ago and they still think I should talk like Scotty from Star Trek. Now, what are you doing here bringing ma respectable establishment intae disrepute?'

Spike sat back and stretched. 'Need some information.'

'You serious? After what you've been doing the last coupla days, it'll be suicide for anyone who'll help you. The Watchers were in here twice last night after that stunt at Covent Garden with Dorian's gang. It was you who put them up to it weren't it.'

'Certainly was,' Spike chuckled. 'Been in twice already have they?'

'And no guarantee that they won't be back any second. The Council's put the word out Billy, curtains for anyone who gets between you and them.'

'So why haven't you kicked me out?'

'I'm getting to that, there's a sewer you and your bird can use soon to get as far away from me as possible. I just figured you'd make a scene if I didn't hear you out, plus I owe you.'

'Do you?'

'Aye, fer getting rid o'me competition. Nerk had been eating into me profits with his bloody pay-per-view sports cable and county & western theme nights; you've taken care of all that. Now, what do you want?'

'I'm looking for a Watcher called Harry Chapman.'

Now it was Balthazar's turn to chuckle. 'Aye, thought you might.'

'How'd you know?'

'Well, he was the Watcher who ordered the hit on you the other night.'

Spike's face darkened. 'Did he now.'

'Ooh, there's another reason is there? Well good luck because the Council's been asking after him as well. Seems he's blotted his copybook and done a bunk and if they are then so are the police.'

'Bollocks!'

'Urgent bit o'business with him yeah.'

'Too bloody right.'

In as much as a horse can look thoughtful, Balthazar appeared to be contemplating something. 'How much cash do you have on you?'

'Dunno, I take it when I need it. Couple of thousand.'

'Tsk, two big ones. Is that all? Ah well.'

And with that Balthazar went and sat behind his desk, which easily had room under it for a range rover, and began to rummage about in one of the drawers.

'Two thou is a bit on the cheap side for this, but you see a few weeks back your man Chapman comes swaggering in here like he's Lord Snooty-Muck of Canterburyhamshire. 'Surprise inspection' he sez. 'Don't like the element y've been attracting Mr. Boswell' he sez. Bastard only goes and shuts me doon for three whole days while he has his lads take the place apart. Didn't find nothing o'course, he was taking a bung from yon Nerk to cause me a bit of grief. Still, while he's here he gets bored and careless. Starts bitin his nails, filthy habit if you ask me but each to his own. Ah, here we are.'

Spike stood up and looked at the small polythene bag Balthazar was holding.

'Bites his nails off and leaves em in an ashtray,' said the kelpie with a big toothy smile. 'Silly bugger, the wrong person gets hold o'these they can bring him under their control with the right spell. That's old magic that, oldest you can get. Un-bloody-stoppable. Now, how's about my two grand bonny lad?'

Roy Meagher was an estate agent in a bad mood. First he overslept, then he couldn't find his door keys, then the tubes were delayed, then the train got stuck in the tunnel for half an hour, then when he finally got to Turnpike Lane station the silly bitch he was supposed to showing a flat to called him on his mobile to say she couldn't make it. And now some strange bloke in a long gray mac was staring at him.

'Pardon me,' said the man and he gave Roy an intense unblinking look. 'It's…..Roy? Isn't it.'

'Er, yeah. I'm sorry, have we met?'

'Oh never and I doubt we will again,' again with the stare. 'My name's Ethan, tell me, do you have a passport?'

'I…,' Roy wanted to ask why this man would want to know that but his gaze was very off-putting. 'Yes, I do.'

'Don't suppose you have it on you.'

'No, it's at my flat.'

'And where do you live?'

None of your bloody business and who the hell are you? That was what he wanted to say. 'Flat 16b, St John Street, near Angel tube station.' Was what he actually said.

'Islington,' the stranger smiled and continued staring. ' Very nice. Can I have your keys, ooh and better have a look at your wallet as well.'

Look mate I don't know who you are but you can fuck off. 'Certainly, here's the keys and here's the wallet.'

'Thank you,' without looking Ethan took out the credit cards and handed them back to Roy and pocketed the wallet. 'Do you have a burglar alarm?'

'No.'

'Live with anyone?'

'No.'

'Okay, here's what I think you should do. I think you should go to Kings Cross station and use your credit card to take a train to Edinburgh, book yourself into a hotel for a few days, look around, amuse yourself with a couple of whores. Just go on a good old-fashioned pub-crawl, a real binge, enjoy yourself.'

'Thanks, I will.'

'Good lad.'

'Bye Ethan.'

'Bye Roy.'

And with that Roy wandered off into the tube station.

Ethan watched him until he was out of sight and then started crying. 'Ghaahhh,' he moaned and began rubbing his eyes. 'That can really bloody hurt. Ahhh.'

Chapman, who had been standing nearby, looked at the warlock in astonishment. 'That was amazing, you took over his mind.'

'No, just cast a quick spell to render him totally subservient to suggestion. If you blink even once during the first two minutes the spell breaks,' Ethan grabbed Chapman's hand and stuffed Roy's keys into it. 'You heard the address, go there and wait for me. Don't answer the phone and don't answer the door unless it's me. I'll knock quickly three times then slowly four times.'

'Where are you going?'

'Get the ingredients for the spell,' said Ethan, tears still rolling down his cheeks. 'You got the money?'

Chapman gave him a key. 'Storage locker 50, Waterloo Station. There's five grand in there.'

'Five? I told you ten.'

'If you think I'm giving you ten grand then sitting in some bloke's flat on my tod waiting for you to come back then think again. I'll reimburse you after you complete the spell. Don't tell me you haven't got the money, not after what I've just seen you do. Incidentally if you try anything like that with me I'll break your face.'

Ethan smiled. 'What makes you think I won't just settle for five grand?'

'Cause there's 20 thou in another locker in Waterloo, I'll pay you back the five and give you another three for your trouble and if you're going to walk away from an extra three grand then I have seriously misjudged you.'

'My dear Harry, for three extra grand I'd mud wrestle my own mother.'

'Spike, my feet are wet and it smells in here.'

Spike looked up at the manhole cover; a few needles of sunlight were shining through the holes. 'That's because it's a sewer my little stocking top.'

'Well, well why did we have come down here, it's icky.'

'Cause old Balthazar Boswell is a demon of his word and when he said he'd tear my head off if we didn't leave, I believed him. Now pipe down.'

Harmony was quiet for all of three seconds. 'Do we have to stay down here all day?'

'No… just till lunchtime. Then we can go and get the necessary ingredients for the spell.'

'What's so important about a bunch of fingernails? Eww, you're carrying someone's fingernails around in a plastic bag.'

Spike sighed. 'With the right mixture these fingernails can be used to cast a spell on the person who shed them. It won't matter where Chapman is in the world because I can make him come straight to me. Or, if he's closer to the gem than he is to me he can get the gem and then bring it to me. Either way, Officer Harry Chapman is going to make me the dog's bollocks of the vampire world. Then it's off to Sunnydale and hello and goodbye Buffy 'sodding' Summers.'

'But what about France?'

'Oh for, look if you could kill one person in the whole world, just one, who would it be?'

She didn't hesitate. 'Willow Rosenberg.'

'Really? Okay, well were does Willow Rosenberg live?'

'Sunnydale.'

'Right, then how much sweeter will France be knowing that on the other side of the world teen-witch's head is lying several miles away from the rest of her body?'

Harmony perked up at the thought. 'Ooooh, you're right. But then we can go to France?'

'Absolutely, you take in the sights while I do my bit anglo-froggy relations.'

A rumbling from the surface drew their attention and the pinpricks of sunlight disappeared.

Spike grinned and began to climb upwards. 'Right, come on and don't dawdle.'

Roy Meagher made his way to Kings Cross Station and bought his ticket without actually knowing he'd done it. Then he went and bought a pub lunch and had a quick pint while he waited for the 12:16 service, he didn't even taste the food. As he walked back to the station to catch his train he didn't even notice that the crossing lights were red and he certainly didn't hear the horn of the articulated lorry that was thundering down on him. Then he never heard anything ever again.

As the rain began to fall on London, Travers stared out over the city and felt very old. Just five years ago Spike's head would have already been mounted over the fireplace, today it was taking every resource the council had just to clean up after him.

Maybe it's time to retire. He thought.

He looked over at the whisky decanter on the sideboard and instantly quashed that thought. For God's sake man, it's only just gone midday, get a grip.

A knock on his office door saved him from any more internal struggling. 'Enter.'

'Sir,' it was Harris. 'I wondered if you'd heard from DS Cunningham.'

'No I'm afraid he's still with the deputy commissioner, trying to explain exactly how he knew that PC Wriggle was dangerous.' He turned to look at Harris. 'Have you slept at all since last night?'

'A few minutes here and there.'

'Then go and get some sleep, god knows we could all do with a rest. Go on, we can spare you for a few hours. Every council employee in London is on the lookout for Spike and he'll be off the streets until sunset that's one thing I am sure of.'

'The great thing about being a vampire during an English summer, ' yelled Spike as he and Harmony dashed through the rain sodden streets, 'is that the season only lasts for three bloody days.'

Harmony looked up at the sky. Her skin was prickling and just above the dark gray clouds was the sun and it was looking for a way to break through.

'Relax, ' Spike called over his shoulder. 'We've got total cloud cover. Anyway, we're here.'

Harmony looked down the dingy little alleyway. The only thing that stood out was a single doorway that had a sheet of corrugated iron welded to it. They were back on the same grubby East End streets were they'd met that awful Dorian person. London was not what she imagined, aside from meeting Spike it had been an utterly depressing experience. There were no chimney sweeps; no one wore a bowler hat, a beggar she'd given some change to had spat at her instead of saying 'gawd bless you ma'am,' (he was dead now) and the only pearly king she'd seen had been someone on Oxford Street collecting for some hospital.

It'd be different in France; she could get a bike and go for a ride with some onions tied round her neck, she'd fit right in.

Spike grabbed her hand and began to drag down the alley. 'C'mon you dozy mare, the sun'll be out soon.'

As they approached the door a man in a long gray raincoat came out, he looked familiar. He didn't say anything but as he walked past Spike he gave her blondie bear (her new name for him) the briefest glance. Spike was too busy looking up at the sky to notice.

'Spike…'

'Ssh! Not another word till we're out of here.'

'But Spike…'

'Will you belt up!'

The two vampires entered the grungy little shop. In actual fact it was more like a doctor's waiting room, there were a few empty chairs, a pile of prehistoric women's magazines and a counter that had a little old woman sitting behind it.

The woman looked up at her new customers and Spike gave her a winning smile. She smiled back and pressed a button on the counter top, a huge metal gate with a big black cross painted on it came down in front of the counter.

Harmony yelped and turned away. Spike winced but stood his ground. A letterbox sized shutter opened in the gate. 'Yes?' snapped the old woman.

Spike tried to be civil. 'Look, there's no need for that luv. We're here on legitimate business.'

'I'm sure that's what the one who killed Josie who used to work here on Saturdays told her.'

Spike stopped trying to be civil. 'Listen you old crow, you have potions, I have money,' he said, producing a thick role of notes that he hadn't bothered to tell Balthazar Boswell about. 'Comprende?'

'How much?'

'I haven't told you what I want yet.'

'No but I'm the one behind the reinforced metal gate with the stuff you want and it might turn sunny soon.'

Spike glared at the little hatch. After a few very uncomfortable seconds he growled, 'four grand.'

'Wha'd y'want.'

'Three leaves of wolfsbane, some shredded ragwort, an ounce of crushed dragons teeth and a pinch of chrondilla.'

Another little slot opened up. 'Lets have the money then.'

'You think I'm just going to hand it over?'

'Well I'm not coming out there and the weathermen are saying it's going to brighten up by mid-afternoon so I wouldn't take too long to argue about this if I were you.'

There was another few seconds of angry silence then Spike, without looking at the cross, shuffled over to the gate and slipped the money through.

'Thank you, won't be a minute dear.'

'Spike,' Harmony whispered. 'That man.'

'What man?'

'The one who was coming out when we went in, I've seen him before. In Sunnydale.'

'What? Who is he?'

'I don't know his name but he used to run a fancy-dress shop. I didn't understand it at the time but he turned everyone into their costumes one Halloween. I spent the night as Marilyn Manson.'

'Huh?'

'I thought she was the one who had her skirt blown up in that old film,' Harmony blushed. 'The costume wasn't quite what I was expecting.'

Spike frowned. 'Hm, I remember that night. That was the guy who did it, eh? Not bad for a human.'

'But he recognised you, he looked at you as we were going in.'

'Ah. And you were going to tell me about this when?'

'You didn't seem interested.'

'Fine, fine,' he stormed up to the gate and pounded on it, carefully avoiding the cross. 'Chop, chop, ducks, times-a-wasting.'

A little bag dropped through the opening. 'There you go, we're out of chrondilla but I've kept the four grand.'

'You what!'

'That young man who was just in here bought the last of it, it's expensive stuff we don't stock much of it. If you run you can catch him.'

'You, you…gimme my money back you old harpy-OW!!' In his frustration Spike hit the cross and burnt the skin off his knuckles. The old woman chuckled, 'I wouldn't dawdle if I were you darling.'

Snarling, Spike vamped out and raced into the alleyway.

Ethan had missed England, you could only take so much gorgeous sunshine before you began to hanker for a bit of gloomy drizzle. After making a quick call to anonymously tip-off the Watchers about Spike (lots of lovely chaos when they showed up) he was making his way back to the underground station when something grabbed him and slammed him against the nearest wall. It was Spike.

'Listen,' the vampire growled, 'my bird tells me you were the one who pulled that Halloween stroke in Scummydale a coupla years back and for that I'm gonna let you live, if you give me the chrondilla you just bought.'

Ethan didn't bother trying to tough it out. 'Oh right, anything else you need?'

'The chrondilla will do nicely thanks, and your wallet of course.'

'Of course.'

'Spike,' Harmony trilled as she tottered down the street on her three-inch heels and waving a little bag, 'you nearly forgot your wolfsbane and stuff.'

'Wolfsbane, eh?' said Ethan. 'Who you trying to take control of?'

He knew at once that it was the wrong thing to say. Spike leaned in, very close and very dangerous. 'You ask too many questions.'

It was at this point that the clouds blanketing the city began to disperse.

'AHhhhhhhhhh,' yelled Spike as the skin on the back of his neck began to blister. Down the road Harmony began to scream as her hair caught fire.

'Christ, gnnh you bastard!' Spike cried as Ethan took the opportunity to knee the vampire between the legs and race off down the road. Spike grabbed hold of the hysterical Harmony, dragged into her towards the open manhole they'd crawled out of, threw her down it and leapt in after her.

'Alright calm down you stupid bitch,' he yelled as Harmony, still screaming her head off, rolled around in the reeking water long after the flames had been doused. 'I SAID WILL YOU CALM DOWN,' he bellowed and grabbed her by the throat. 'Just for once will you shut the fuck up when I tell you to! The fire's out okay, things like this happen.'

'Okay,' she snivelled. 'I'm sorry.'

He sighed and let her go. 'Yeah, well. You just need to be a bit more patient, like me. Don't be such a drama queen, you don't see me flying off the handle at every little thing do you?'

'Well…'

'Well what?'

'Nothing.'

'Good.'

Harmony fingered her singed locks. 'My hair…'

'It'll be as good as new in a couple of hours.'

'My clothes…'

'I'll get you some new ones.'

'We don't have any money.'

'I'll steal some.'

'Okay,' she sat down and cried for a few more minutes. 'Did you get your chrono-stuff.'

Spike shook his head.

'Is it important?'

'It's where most of the money I gave to that thieving old hag would have gone. Without it the mixture is useless.'

'Is there anywhere that sells it?'

'Probably, but I don't think that matters,' he reached into his coat pocket and produced a wallet. He opened it, took out the money and pocketed it and then began to examine the contents. 'I don't think it matters because Mr. Roy Meagher hasn't paid his gas bill, I know he hasn't paid it because there is a red demand folded up in his wallet, along with a cheque for the princely sum of £43.78. And look at that, the bill has his address on it.'

Cunningham's body stood on the platform of Maida Vale underground station. His mind was still in the office of deputy commissioner Franklin, which was where his body had been half and hour ago.

How did you know about PC Wriggle? The deputy, or rather, acting, commissioner had asked.

Crack, sir.

Excuse me?

Crack, or LSD or some sort of hallucinogenic, PC Wriggle had been abducted by the mob from Covent Garden after all and they must have been on something, so I thought...

And you thought what exactly?

Well, that they'd got him on something.

After a few hours of mental & physical abuse you thought they'd turned him into a raving psychotic.

Yes sir.

I see from his brief record that he had single-handedly foiled a gang of four armed robbers.

If that's what it says sir.

Yet one night with these thugs was too much to handle.

Must have flipped sir.

But he had enough self-control to patiently wait in a room with two senior officers until Commissioner Oswald had arrived.

Yes sir.

Patient enough to abandon himself to a cup of tea and a couple of digestive biscuits while he waited.

I suppose so sir, I wasn't there.

No…that was very intuitive of you detective sergeant.

Thank you sir.

Good day detective sergeant.

Sir.

Lame, lame, lame. If French Connection II hadn't been on TV the other night he wouldn't have even been able to come up with that excuse.

Oh well, that was his career, what was left of it, down the karzi. He'd been in the job long enough to know that from now until he retired he'd be assigned to every shit assignment that slithered through the station. 'Petty vandalism? Give it to Cunningham. Gang of purse-snatchers? Give it to Cunningham. The station has run out of toilet paper? No problem, Cunningham will wipe everyone's arse for them.

Only one thing for it, after this business with Spike was finished he'd have to take over Chapman's council job on a full time basis. Well, it was either that or spend more time with the wife and she had her bridge club to occupy her these days.

Anyone watching Cunningham would have assumed he was off daydreaming somewhere, they would have been very surprised when he suddenly whirled round and held a cross out at arms length.

'Hello Douggie.'

The vampire, who had several rings through his left nostril, cringed at the sight of the cross. 'C'mon Mr. Cunningham, no need for that.'

'Day I arrange to meet one of your lot without being armed to the teeth is the day you put me in a small wooden house Douggie, literally. Now, what have you got for me?'

The vampire looked around nervously and licked his lips. 'What have you got for me?'

With his free hand, Cunningham reached into his coat pocket and produced a bag of blood.

Douggie's eyes widened. 'Is that…'

'Laced with the finest Peruvian matching powder Douggie, I know cause I swiped it on my last drugs bust. Now…'

Douggie didn't take his eyes of the bag but he spoke quickly and lucidly. 'Spike shows up at Balthazar's this morning dun he, just after sunrise. Arrogant bastard swans in with some American vamp and has a little chat with Balthazar.'

'And then?'

'Then he goes.'

'Goes? What did he talk to Boswell about?'

'I dunno, I'd had a few and squared up to him so Balthazar lobs me across the bar. Then he has a chat in Boswell's office, comes out and gets the girl and drags her into the office and shuts the door. 'Last I see of em but he's definitely not there now.'

'And that's it? He shows up at a pub four hours ago and then leaves?' Cunningham started to put the bag away. 'You'll have to do better than that Douglas.'

'Hold on, hold on. I know he left via the sewers under Balthazar's office, they only come out in the East End, if he's anywhere that's where he'll be.'

'Tell me about the American.' Foreign vampires were rare in London; they tended only to be tourists who'd been sired. Outsiders didn't visit because of the council's reputation, although it didn't look like that was going to hold up much longer.

Douggie looked nervous. 'C'mon Mr. Cunningham, you know how much trouble this'll cause me if I tell you too much.'

'I've got an extra bag on me Douggie.'

'She's an absolute idiot, god knows why he's knocking around with her. Doesn't shut up for love nor money, kept going on about DI Chapman seems he's clued in on something Spike wants.'

'What?'

'Dunno, Spike came out and took her into the office before she had a chance to say anything. Didn't strike me as being that dangerous though.'

Cunningham was silent for a few moments, then he reached back into his pocket and drew out the bag of blood and threw it to Douggie. Then he reached inside his coat and produced two more bags. 'He's the other one I promised and one on account. You hear anything, anything on Spike or Chapman I am the first person you tell, understand?'

'Sure.'

'Can your informant be trusted?' asked Travers.

Cunningham shrugged. 'Definitely not. But he's not got the most discerning of tastes. He snacked on one junkie too many and now he's hooked. As long as he keeps giving me good information I provide him with blood/cocaine cocktails. He also has a taste for A/B neg, pretty difficult to come by. It's got to the point where he can't bring himself to drink anything else, I stop supplying him and he starves.'

'Hm, well he was certainly right about the East End. Spike and his lady friend were there this afternoon.'

'In broad daylight?'

'Not exactly, they were taking advantage of the typically grim English summer to visit Madam Zelda's of Whitechapel.'

'You mean Doris Lawlor's Potions Emporium?'

'One and the same, while you were talking to your informant we received a phone-call alerting us to Spike's presence there.'

'From Doris?'

'At the time we didn't know who it was, but seeing as we were able to hack into London's CCTV systems years ago it didn't take us long to find out.'

Travers handed Cunningham a series of black and white photographs. 'Naturally we erased these as soon as we saw them.'

Cunningham looked at the fight displayed in the pictures. 'That's Ethan Rayne!'

'Quite. Seems he'd bought some chrondilla from Madame Zelda's a few minutes before Spike went into buy the same. He purchased her entire stock of it and a few items besides.' He handed Cunningham a list.

The DS looked it over. 'Expensive items. What's are they for?'

'Several spells, they form a bit of a catchall potion. What they are used for depends entirely on the incantation used. However, the shopping list Madame Zelda gave us shows that Spike is after a very specific spell.

Cunningham read to the bottom of the list. 'A possession spell?'

'Indeed. He has some part of the subject in his possession, a hair, a toenail, a scab and he's going to use it to bring him under his control. Now, who do we think that might be, hmmm?'

Chapman looked at himself in the mirror and someone else's reflection stared back him. 'God I'm hideous.'

Ethan smiled. 'You certainly are Roy, no wonder you live alone.'

'I'm a foot shorter.'

'Perception. It's what I like to call the 'Quantum Leap' effect. You know you're a six-foot dark haired man in his late thirties. However, for the next month everyone else will see you as a bearded ginger gnome with one green eye and one blue eye. Trust me, you haven't really changed at all.'

'And this is only going to last for a month?'

'Yep, so make sure you're somewhere private when it wears off. What time's your flight?'

'Just before midnight.'

'Smashing, that means we have four hours to get my money and have a quick pint. You all packed?'

'Since last night. You sure my clothes will fit me?'

'Yes, because you haven't physically changed it's the spell making everyone else think you've changed. Now, got your ticket?'

'Yes.'

'Passport?'

'Yes.'

'Then lets go,' and with that Ethan opened the front door to Roy's flat and found Spike and Harmony (both in vampire face) standing on the doorstep.

Spike slowly looked around the doorframe and then glanced down at the threshold. 'You know what I think,' he said as he pushed Ethan back and stepped into the apartment. 'I think that you don't strike me as a Roy, in fact I think that Roy is dead,' and he hit Ethan so hard the warlock flew across the room and landed in a crumpled heap in the corner.

Spike smiled. 'I also think you're going to join Roy quite soon.'

Harmony quietly slipped in behind him and closed the front door……….

Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Angel the Series, and all characters are created by Joss Whedon and owned by him, Kazui Sandollar®, Mutant Enemy®, 20th Century Fox® and the Warner Bros. Network®. No copyright infringment is intended anywhere. This is a story purely for entertainment purposes. No profit is gained from this story. The author has no connection to Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series, except having a complete love for the show. No harm or copyright infringement is intended.