Long Beach Freeway I-710 : Boyle Heights -- Los Angeles, California
Angel sighed and rolled his eyes at Cordelia's cries of indignation. "Listen, Cordy," he said calmly, keeping his eyes on the road, "they'll come out. It's not that big of a deal."
She gave him a look that he was sure could crack stone. "This is a satin Über dress, Angel. You don't get Malhalla demon-blood out of a satin Über dress. It just doesn't happen!"
Knowing she was probably right, he shrugged apologetically. "Well, at least now you know better than to wear a dress you like when you're acting as bait."
She squealed shrilly in frustration, causing Angel to take one hand off the wheel and cover his ear. "Yeah? Well maybe you could forget the 'Dirty Harry' complex and actually try talking to them until I get out of the splatter zone!"
He considered this for a moment, looking out at the darkening city through his window and wondering how he could fit a double-headed battle axe and a katana through a Malhalla defense while trying not to get any blood on Cordy's fashionable designer clothes. "Hmm. No, I think your best plan would be to dress down for a while, until we can work out a new fighting system."
"Hah! I wouldn't dress down if your after-life depended on it."
A few moments passed with both occupants staring out at the buildings under and over the freeway. Lights were starting to grow brighter as the last vestiges of daylight seeped along the skyline. It was vanishing quickly in a haze of deep blazing yellow, ruby red and, oddly enough, Malhalla demon-blood purple. The rest of the sky was pinpoints of light in an almost-black navy-blue.
A black Altima sped past them and Angel blinked, realizing he had actually been zoning while driving. The last time he could remember doing that was just after Woodstock. He'd ended the trip causing a four-car pile-up in the streets of New York, high as a kite and afraid of bunnies for some reason. Maybe the scent of the blood on Cordy's dress wasn't sitting right with his system.
"Then again, yes I would."
He glanced at Cordy and frowned. "You would what?"
"Dress down. If your anti-living depended on it. I'm just lucky it doesn't." She smiled at him.
He smiled back, and Cordy's gaze drifted to the road beyond the windshield. "Oh no, Angel, watch out!"
He looked back out the front too late to stop the car from (dammit, dammit, something in the blood) slamming into the back of a compact Geo. The miniscule trunk dented inwards and the tail lights busted, tiny glass shards crunching underneath the tires of his Corvette. The Geo swerved as the driver tried to stop the car without backing into Angel.
He quickly but cautiously slowed the corvette, pulling over on the narrow side of the freeway. The Geo did the same, pulling in at an angle so getting back on the road wouldn't be as much of a hassle.
Angel unbuckled his seatbelt and jumped out of the Corvette, not bothering to open the door. Cordelia, on the other hand, was going at a much slower pace. She had no interest in being chewed out by an angry Geo-driver stuck in Eastern LA (she knew just as well as anybody else, nobody living in East Los Angeles would ride in such a degrading mode of transportation).
The driver's and passenger's side doors on the Geo opened simultaneously, causing Angel to slow in his tracks. Two black men stepped out, leaving the car running. Their attire completely clashed with their choice of vehicle. The driver was taller than his passenger, with a long trench coat tied around him, the wide collar concealing the lower portion of his face. What hair he had stood straight in a crew cut. Plumes of smoke rose from within the shade of the collar; he was taking long drags off a thin cigarette.
His passenger, while smaller, was broader in the shoulders and completely bald. Angel saw from the light inside of the car that he was wearing a white t-shirt under a brown leather jacket and tight denim blue jeans. He was also moving quicker than the tall man to assess the damage.
"Ah, oh fuck man!" The smaller (and as Angel noticed, only a few feet from them, also younger) man exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "Shit! Now what?!"
The trencher waved his hand in the air to settle his friend. "Relax, everything's all right." His voice was gruff and scratchy, yet cool and somehow suave.
Angel heard one of them moan as they looked at the damaged trunk. He finally stepped up to where they were and coughed to announce his presence. They turned abruptly from observing the Geo; they both seemed very surprised to see him. Not just surprised. Something else.
The bald man started forward while the trencher stepped in front of the trunk. "Hey, why don't you watch where you're going!" The smaller, more intense man said this as a demand rather than a question.
"I know, I know." Angel said, trying to keep him calm. "Sorry about that, I wasn't paying attention to the road. If you give me your address I can-"
"No, no. That won't be necessary." The older man said, remaining where he was. "I'm sure you're a very astute driver and this was a one time thing."
Well, actually twice, Angel almost stated, had Cordy not chosen that time to come jogging into their little group.
"I'm sorry," she began, smiling, "my boyfriend's a real klutz sometimes." The young bald man turned to look at her and Angel noticed her eyes lighting up. "H-hi, my name's Cordelia Chase."
"Tw-Tanner. Name's Tanner." He smiled back and shook her hand, staring at her dress curiously.
She looked down and realized that he was observing the purple stains. She crossed her arms defensively. "It's a style."
Angel shook his head and moved closer to the man at the trunk, putting his hand out. "I'm Angel."
The trencher was handsome in a rugged manner, with a long face and a scruffy beard. But genuine comely looks definitely went to his cohort, who's smooth dark skin and bright smile would have no problem attracting women. Women such as Cordy.
"Louis," the man stated gruffly around the cigarette, watching Angel carefully. He kept his hands by the sides his trench coat. "Like I said, you don't have to worry about paying for the damage. You can go on back to your-"
Another moan sounded in the air, and Angel realized it wasn't coming from either Tanner or Louis. It was coming from the trunk of their Geo.
For a second, the four of them simply stood their looking at each other with shocked expressions.
"Leave, now." Louis said, never looking away from Angel.
The vampire shook his head. "Sorry, I can't do that. Who's in the trunk?"
"Can't tell you that."
Angel laughed. "Well, I guess you're going to have to show me."
Louis's right hand disappeared into his trench coat and he pulled out a sawed-off shotgun.
"Or not." Angel jumped into the air as Louis pumped the Remington 870 and fired the first blast at where Angel had been. Tanner reached a protective hand over Cordelia and brought out a Llama M-82 semi-automatic pistol from his jacket.
Angel landed to the left of Louis and kicked him in the side. The trencher lost his balance and tumbled off his feet, the shotgun remaining in his grasp.
"You're not loaded." Angel said, his eyes flickering between the shotgun and the man on the ground.
Louis said nothing.
"Hey, uh, Louis. Why don't we take the girl with us, man? You know, in case we got bored." Tanner didn't see Cordelia's jaw drop.
"You're not taking her anywhere," Angel stated matter-of-factly.
As Tanner was watching the two, Cordelia took the opportunity of not being noticed. She clasped the pepper spray in her jacket and slipped it out of her pocket. Then she tapped Tanner on the shoulder.
When he turned to her she sprayed the contents of the canister into his eyes.
"Ahhh!" He screamed, aiming his gun blindly at her. "You bitch!" He cried, and pulled the trigger. The bullet was understandably off and was only able to graze her waist, just enough to rip the fabric of her dress.
Cordy looked down in shock (I should've grabbed for the gun first), then jumped him and, putting her hands on his shoulders as he continued to stumble, kneed Tanner in the crotch.
Louis pumped the gun to load the next shells, and Angel tried to kick it out of his hands. But Louis rolled on the side of the highway, missing Angel's foot and coming up against the protective railing keeping out-of-control cars from falling down to the road thirty feet below.
Angel leapt backwards and rolled, hopping to the front of the Geo before Louis could release the next blast of pellets from his double-barrels.
Tanner dropped to the cement, his head against the dented trunk with one hand cupping his groin protectively. He yelled in pain and kicked out his leg, sweeping Cordelia off her high-heel shoes. She fell on her ass, her breath whooshing out in a gasp.
Louis rose to his feet and ran towards the Geo. Between the small vehicle and the straight line that was I-710, Angel had very few places to hide.
Cordelia lunged at the gun in Tanner's hand, and they struggled to gain control over the weapon. He suddenly let one hand off the gun and swung at her. His fist was closer to the mark than his bullet had been. He socked Cordelia hard in the chin and she let go of the gun, momentarily stunned.
Louis jumped around the corner to the front of the Geo, expecting to find Angel on the other side, cowering. He wasn't.
The car came to life then, its headlights catching Louis in their path.
Laughing menacingly, Tanner aimed the gun at Cordelia again. "It's been a while since I had some tight pussy."
The Geo jerked in reverse, the trunk cracking against Tanner's skull. He blinked and dropped the gun in shock.
Cordy grabbed the M-82 off the pavement and pointed it at him, but a second later Tanner fell to his side, his eyes closed. She sighed and kicked the unconscious criminal in his gut. "It's gonna be a while longer, asshole."
Inside the Geo, Angel switched the car out of reverse and looked through the windshield. He immediately flung himself below the dashboard and flattened himself against the seats as the sawed-off shotgun roared. It discharged large pellets into the windshield, the glass exploding inwards. The remaining shards formed a concavity over Angel.
In the next instant he sat back up, taking the steering wheel in his hands. Louis kept the same grim expression on his face as he pumped the next set of shells into the Remington. Angel ran one black shoe over the pedal and pressed lightly down on it. Louis had anticipated the move and leapt into the air, landing on the hood.
He released the next set of shelled pellets just as Angel kicked down on the accelerator. The sudden burst of speed snapped the trencher off his feet, and he fell face-forward onto the roof of the car. His forehead smacked onto the paint and dazed him. The shotgun left his hand and tumbled sideways onto the pavement. The force of air around Louis carried him over the car, bumping on the trunk before landing on his knees. Right in front of his fallen partner; and Cordelia Chase, who was using the M-82 pistol to keep Louis in his spot. But like Tanner, his eyes fluttered for a second before he dropped backwards, sprawling across the side of the road.
As soon as he heard Louis's body leave the top of the car, Angel brought the wasted Geo to a halt; just as the front left tire started to grind against the railing. He carefully climbed out of the car through what was left of the windshield. He looked back to the south to see Cordy sitting on the ground, nervously watching the two still forms.
The shining black pistol trembled in her hands but Angel only saw exhilaration in her brown eyes, any trace of fear now long gone. They had beaten the bad guys again that night.
Possibly feeling his eyes watching her, Cordelia looked up and met his gaze. They smiled at each other, Cordy breathing erratically from the adrenaline still pumping quickly through her veins. The haze of battle fever began to fade away from Angel's mind.
Suddenly the trunk of the Geo burst open. Cordelia screamed and instinctively fired a single shot from the semi-automatic at the trunk. Angel pinwheeled backwards and fell off the hood.
A muffled cry of pain came from within the trunk, and Cordy and Angel both remembered now why they had started fighting the two men in the first place. Cordelia got up off the road and rushed to the Geo, praying that she hadn't hit the person inside.
She skidded to a stop at the car and lifted the metal covering the trunk the rest of the way. Angel came up beside her and looked down.
Inside of the trunk a small, twelve-year old girl stared back up at them, pain and apprehension in her eyes. She was bound with rope and gagged with a clean white rag. She didn't seem to be harmed, though, other than being left in a seemingly very uncomfortable position. Cordelia reached down and pulled the rag out of her mouth, leaving it tied around her neck.
"...What are you doing?" The blonde girl asked with tepidity.
Cordelia smiled warmly. "We're rescuing you."
Angel reached down and took her by the shoulders. He pulled her up and out of the trunk and tried to stand the girl on her feet.
"No," she shook her head, "I can't feel my legs. I've been in the trunk since this morning."
"Why?" Cordelia asked as Angel started to carry her to the Corvette. "Why did these men kidnap you?"
"You mean you don't know?" The girl looked confused, watching Cordelia over Angel's shoulder.
"Let's not talk about this now," Angel said, walking faster to his car. "We need to get back to the Hyperion."
Cordelia was about to agree when one of her heels got caught on Tanner's jacket. She stumbled but managed to stay on her feet. Cordy looked down at the unconscious forms on the side of the road and frowned. "Angel? What are we going to do with these two?"
Angel gently lowered the girl into the back seat of the Corvette and glanced back at Cordelia and the Geo. "Yeah...all right, do you have your cell phone?"
"Oh, it's in my purse." She trotted as fast as one could in heels to the car and reached into the passenger side for her black handbag.
A glint of streetlight sparkled in Angel's eyes as he examined the ropes around the girl. Well, if we can't take them with us...
He quickly
began to untie her.
***Meanwhile...***
Kracker Jack's: Maple and Elm -- Sunnydale, California
"This sucks."
Deep within the white, stucco walls of Kracker Jack's, a conspiracy was being unfurled. Buffy Summers sat across from Spike at one of the brightly colored tables in the back of the kiddy restaurant. She was dressed as Daphne from Scooby Doo, wearing the blue one-piece that ended at her thighs and a green scarf around her neck. The gaudy red wig continuously slipped down to one side of her face. A yellow slicker rested on the back of her chair, the weather report of probable rainfall now temporarily relieved from her mind.
"Did you hear, me?" She asked Spike, who hadn't dressed up for the occasion at all. "I said, 'this sucks'."
"I heard you, pet, I just can't get past the fact that you let 'em slip a big one like this on you. I mean, you should've seen it coming a mile away."
She stuck out her lower lip and scowled at Spike. "Heartless bastards. All of them. You'd think a saving-the-world celebration would mean more to them than this."
Spike scoffed and leaned back, resting one arm on his plastic seat. "Oh come off it. How many saving-the-world celebrations are they supposed to go through before it becomes the norm. You'll pardon me if I say it already is."
"Well you could have at least humored me enough to wear something other than black. I mean, not only do you stick out like a goiter, dressing for a funeral in a youth-oriented place of business, but I swear to God if I have to see that black leather jacket one more time I'm gonna stick a shaft of wood so far up your-"
"Howdy-doody! I'm KrackerJack Betty, may I take your order?" The annoyingly chipper voice came from her left, and Buffy was afraid to look. She slowly craned her neck towards the voice.
The body of a female pirate stood next to her, an over-sized plastic head invading her territorial bubble. The plastic cheeks were decorated with tattoos of rainbows, unicorns and naked freckled fairies. It also wore a pink bandana.
"Since when do pirates say, 'howdy-doody'?" Buffy asked without a trace of a smile on her face.
Spike broke in before the befuddled pirate could answer. "Listen, Betsy, don't mind Daphne here, she's been showed up by her Scoobies and she's a little on edge. Feminine problems and all that. She wants a 'Blue Whale Burger' with some 'Walk the Plank Fries' and a little 'Pirate's Blood' on top."
Betty had been nodding up until this point, when she stopped and the plastic head tilted to one side. "Umm, Pirate's Blood'?"
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes. "Ketchup. You've got thirty ridiculous names for every piece of meat and potato in this rotten joint and you can't figure out what to call the ketchup?"
"But Kracker Jack is a good, happy pirate, and he wouldn't want any of the customers to be frightened by the names on the menu."
Buffy looked back down to her yellow, laminated menu, which she'd pushed to the side when they had sat down. "You call the milkshakes here 'Seamen's Delight'. We've been too afraid to try that since they opened this place."
If anything, the big plastic head only looked more confused. Then two hands, one of them holding a pad and pencil, came up to the large, comical cheeks. "Oh no, little pirate girl! Did you get into a scuffle with the Dread Pirate Bluebeard?"
Buffy, bewildered, looked over to Spike. He hesitantly pointed to his forehead.
The slayer reached up and felt her own forehead, and the fresh scar running across it. A few days later and the cut would be gone, but the memory of how close she came to losing Dawn again would stay with her. Buffy shook her head and looked back at Betty. "I fell out of my lifeboat, now could you just get the food?"
The pirate, realizing she was teetering on a fine line, nodded. But before she left she turned to face Spike. "And what did you want?"
He smirked. "A mug."
"Full of what?"
"Air."
Completely confused, KrackerJack Betty left their table. Spike turned back to Buffy to see the girl in even lower spirits than before, running her palm over the deep cut. He sighed again and rested his pale fingers to his temple. "What's wrong, Slayer?"
"How did my life get so far out of whack that you would know how to order for me?"
He frowned. "Owch. If I really thought that was what was getting you so low in the face I'd make like Kojak and book; but somehow I think you're just taking something else out on me."
Buffy took in a deep breath of air and sat up. "Ah, I think I just need a good night's sleep. I'll be fine in the morning."
"Pff. You'd be fine in the morning if you got a good night's something, that's for sure."
"...Have I
mentioned that I hate you today? Because I do."
* * *
Summer's Residence: 1630 Revello Drive -- Sunnydale, California
"Goodnight Tara."
"Goodnight, Dawny," Tara replied softly, closing and locking the bedroom door behind her. She slid the next three latches shut as well, making sure the exit was securely bolted shut. Once convinced, she turned away and walked down the stairs into the living room.
Willow was sitting on the couch in a red terry-cloth robe, her hair and skin still wet from the shower. She was munching on popcorn and watching something violent on the television.
Tara sat down beside Willow, close to the other girl. "I hate doing that to her."
Willow looked over to her with bright green eyes and smiled. "Who, Dawn? She'll get over it. Once Dawny learns she's never going to be able to leave the house again, I'm sure Buffy will take a few of the chains off the door."
"And the bars off the windows?"
Willow giggled. "Let's not get hasty, she isn't Mother Teresa."
Tara harumphed and nudged her lover with one elbow. "I'm serious. Maybe now that she knows the consequences are so severe, maybe...maybe Buffy's being too harsh. Don't you think?"
Willow shook her head and brought a piece of popcorn to Tara's lips. "I think Buffy is just being cautious." Tara reluctantly accepted the popped kernel and Willow continued. "Dawn isn't a bad girl, she's just...prone to mass kidnappings. Buffy doesn't want to lose her. And this time she came too close to doing that for Buffy to take any chances. This won't go on forever. Just until the evil forces of the Hellmouth move on to something more easily accessible than Dawn."
Tara thought about this for a moment and smiled. "You know, you're sexy when you make sense."
Willow grinned and fed her another piece of popcorn. "Oh yeah? Nahfoo-nahfoo, billy-bob onastick."
The blonde girl laughed. "Billy-Bob on a stick? You're sexy when you're talking gibberish too."
As her girlfriend ate another salted, puffy kernel, Willow brushed a thumb over Tara's bottom lip and gave her a salacious wink. "You know, Spike paid good money to get us to skip on that party tonight."
Tara nodded and leaned into the redhead, placing a kiss on her neck. "P-point being?"
"Well," Willow started gently pushing Tara away until they were staring eye-to-eye, "I have all this cash burning a hole in my pocket, and I didn't even get to celebrate our vanquishing the Gate Keeper."
Tara looked suspiciously at her. "So..."
"So, I want the party to come to me. And seeing as how I've only got one article of clothing on and you have, oh.. at least five, you get to be my stripper."
Tara's eyes widened. "Here? In Buffy's living room?"
Willow rolled her eyes and shot the other girl an exasperated look. "C'mon, baby. Xander and Anya are undoubtedly doing something wicked at their apartment, Giles doesn't have the slightest interest in talking to any of us for the next year after what we did to his car, Buffy won't be back for at least a few more hours, if everything goes like Spike wants it to, and the only other person in the house who could possibly stumble onto us is separated from escape by three inches of wood and steel."
The blonde witch grinned and kissed her, tasting salt on both their lips. "You know, you're sexy when you babble too."
Willow reached over to the coffee table next to the couch and snatched her tiny purse off the glass. Taking out a five-dollar bill, she shook it in front of Tara's face. "So do I get my strip-tease?"
Tara groaned. "You'd b-better tip well."
Willow's eyes lit up and she stuck out her tongue. "Don't worry about that. The money's just an added bonus for you. I tip in foreplay."
Tara nodded and got up off the couch. "Okay, okay, just realize I'm not easy. I require heavy tipping."
Her girlfriend sat forward, excited, and smacked Tara's bottom playfully through her jeans. "C'mon woman, shake it!"
The blonde smiled inwardly as Willow turned off the TV and moved to find something suitable on the radio for the coming act. The things I do for foreplay...
* * *
"Here you go." Betty went unnoticed as she dropped the check next to the two customers, who were deep in conversation. She was about to leave when she noticed the scar above the young girl's forehead. Betty blinked and walked away, telling herself off for that Margarita break. She could've sworn the scar had been longer, more prolific.
"So, let me see if I've got this straight... you massacred and sucked dry an entire U-boat's worth of German infantrymen and then scuttled 'das boot' just to hide the evidence. But not before stumbling upon Axis plans to strike the then impartial France from within, which you sold to England for more blood and money. Not that it mattered for France."
Spike nodded, a satisfied grin on his face. "Right. Except for the whole massacred and sucked dry bit. A lot of them I just killed for sport."
"Oh, riiight," Buffy smiled patronizingly, one palm against her cheek as she listened and watched him in wonder, "it wouldn't be a ruthless massacre without the sport...the game."
"Bloody right..." He was reaching for his mug when he realized there was nothing inside, and pushed it towards Buffy. "Refill, love?"
Her gaze drifted down to the plastic container. Unlike other fast-food restaurants, Kracker Jack's offered the customers glasses actually worth drinking out of. Sure there was a ridiculous caricature of Jack, the 'good, happy pirate' on the side, winking and giving a thumbs-up, but Spike didn't seem to mind. If anything he appeared to take a sick pleasure of drinking pig's blood out of the good-natured mugs.
"...Love? You there, girl?"
Looking deeper into the cup, she felt a quiet unease emerging, churning in the pit of her stomach. The incandescent lights above curved abstractly in their reflection on the plastic, and it hit Buffy that what was making her so unsettled wasn't the glass itself, but what she saw inside of it. In the reflection.
"Hey, blondie!" Spike snapped his fingers in front of her face and she recoiled, blinking.
"Wha-oh, right." She slipped a hand into the red wig and covertly pulled out another packet of blood.
He snatched it from her and bit off the pliable edge before squeezing the nectar out of its bag and into his mug. "What was that all about?"
"Hmm? Oh," Buffy shook her head and turned to look over her shoulder. "Nothing," she lied, searching the room with her eyes. They rested on the entrance. Two glass doorways picture-casing the black hole streets of Sunnydale. Get sucked in and they'll never find you...
"Spidey-sense getting the best of you, eh?"
She didn't reply. Silken brunette hair; smooth, pale skin; an elegant countenance... Buffy turned back to Spike. "Where's Dawn?"
The vampire frowned. "Come again?"
"Everyone skipped out on the party. So who's watching Dawn?"
Spike shrugged, avoiding her gaze by burying his face into the mug. "Well, I'm guessing Thelma and Louise are on top of it."
Buffy lunged at him suddenly and slammed the mug down onto the circular plastic table. A black line appeared along the side, and quickly became red as blood started leaking through the crack. Spike was forced to look into her desperate eyes.
"How can you be certain?"
He didn't say anything for a long moment, only staring back at her as a way of defense. Soon after though, he deflated and sat back in his chair. "I, uh, I-"
"Exactly, you can't." She pushed her chair out from under the table and stood up, stripping off the wig and donning her yellow slicker from the chair. It reached her ankles, covering the novelty 'Daphne' outfit.
Spike was on the verge of saying something, but bit his tongue. He shook his head and rose as well, joining Buffy at her side as she walked towards the exit.
"Hey!" A loud voice called out harshly behind them. Spike and Buffy turned halfway between their table and the doors leading outside.
Captain Kracker Jack stared back at them, his plastic cheeks shining in a wax-like brilliance under the fluorescent lights. A scruffy beard and a yellow eye-patch were almost lost under the large black wig. It hung down in exaggerated curls over his face. The neck of the costume was hidden underneath his long blue swash-buckling overcoat, large silver buttons keeping the coat's flaps connected. He and the green parrot on his shoulder seemed to be waiting for something.
"Oh! Dammit!" Buffy put her palm to her forehead in realization and looked over to Spike. "My purse is in the car."
"Huh?" His brow fell in confusion.
"The check...we didn't pay..." Buffy stated, taking a closer look at Jack. He seemed...different.
Spike glanced around the room. Some of the other patrons were beginning to stare at them. A lot of them were very ugly for such young kids. He heard the keys to Buffy's SUV jingling as she withdrew them from the slicker-pocket and held them out for him to take.
"Go get my purse." She commanded simply, keeping her eyes on the pirate at their table, who hadn't moved.
"Oh, I see. One little worry in her head and now her royal highness-"
"Just do it!" She said, looking away long enough to plead with Spike. It was then he saw the worry in her eyes. The sixth sense that Kracker Jack was cooking up more than just 'Blue Whale Burgers' and 'Great White Steaks'. He took the keys and continued towards the exit. He didn't really believe anything was wrong, but he'd let the Slayer have her fun playing detective.
Her focus once again on Jack, Buffy strode confidently to him. She slowed a little, though, when she noticed the stuffed parrot on his shoulder was following her with its lightly-feathered head swiveling to match her pace.
"Neat trick...can it talk too?"
The electronic bird gave a convincing squawk. "Die!"
Buffy's eyebrows raised in surprise.
* * *
Outside, Spike lit a cigarette walking across the parking lot. Taking a quick drag, he watched the alchies filtering out of the bar-and-grill across the street. Jim's Steak and Ale might've been the only bar in history to kick its flies out before the breath of a twelve o'clock shadow. Spike knew it was a good idea, seeing as how they were on the Hellmouth with things such as himself wandering about. But the vampire never liked seeing a bar closing its doors so soon.
...kinda' defeats the purpose of wallowing in a bottle if they pull you out before you're good and pissed.
Fond memories of passing out behind the wheel running through his bleached skull, Spike spotted the black SUV parked between two equally dark Gremlins. Twirling the keys around one finger and sauntering to the car in a swank British fashion, Spike realized he was humming the tune of Cheers.
Shaking his head and chastising himself, he opened the driver's side door and got inside. He spent the next few seconds searching for the purse until he found it stuck in between the two front seats.
Spike was about to slide back out of the car when something occurred to him. He reached inside the purse and pulled out Buffy's cell phone, flipped it open and speed dialed her home number.
On the fifth ring Spike was getting a little suspicious, but in the next instant the line picked up and the sound of heavy breathing filled his ear.
"He-hello?" The voice, out-of-breath and vibing an unusual amount of nervousness and kinetic energy from a one-syllable word, belonged to Willow.
"Where's your head?"
She gasped. "Excuse me?!" Her tone was flustered and defensive even after she realized who was on the other end.
"Where-is-your-head?"
"Spike, what are you implyi-"
"Where's Dawn? Are you watching her, is she with you? Or has the Little Bit decided to take herself out for another midnight stroll?"
"Oh! Uh, umm...no, no she's fine, Spike. We said good night to her a while ago...just before Tara locked her in her room."
Spike heard a mumble on the other end. Tara. Next he heard Willow cup her hand over the phone.
"...wonderin-...-ere Dawn is...no, keep it off...."
More mumbling, more persistent this time.
"-aby, c'mon...no, I don't thi-...Spike, what's this about?"
He puffed out a ring of smoke and watched it swim away. "Nothing. Slayer's got the after-battle jitters. Now she's thinking Kracker Jack's kidnapped Dawn and will no doubt go on a one-eyed murderous rampage with the powers he'll suck out of her."
"Right...okay, well. Tell her everything's cool beans over here. Dawn's not getting out. I-I'll go check on her anyway though."
"Yeah, you do that, Red." He turned the phone off and put it back in Buffy's purse.
Great night this turned out to be. I spent fifty little green Washingtons four ways just so I could sit across from Buffy and hear her bitch all night long with a hundred runt bastard children screaming for entertainment until eleven forty-five when she gets paranoia extreme and now I'm sitting in between two ugly Gremlins and the smell of gasoline coming from the-
Spike stopped ranting to himself and became ridged, feeling like a cold stake had just pierced his chest. What would children be doing in a kiddy restaurant at eleven forty-five at night?
He slowly turned his head to look out the driver's side window. And why would their parents be driving Gremlins?
His gaze drifted down to the car door, then to the keys still in his left hand. It wasn't locked.
Suddenly, a form shifted behind him in the car and Spike felt something being dragged over his face. A plastic bag. It pressed against the pale skin around his neck and tightened.
And tightened.
And tightened.
That's when Spike read the name on the outside of the bag. eciveD noitatipaceD nomeD.
Demon Decapitation Device.
