Title: Dust (It, Myself and I Series 2)
By: Chen
Disclaimer: All belong to ME (Grr! Argh!), not me.
A/N: Okay, it's presumptuous to call this a chapter, it's more like an interlude.
-x-
Dust. Dust everywhere. Spike looked at his prized duster and sighed heavily. The red dust had attached itself to the leather and he couldn't get it off. Couldn't the damn demon have chosen a more civilized place to set up shop? Trying to keep even a semblance of cleanliness was a loosing battle in the confines of Africa.
He got up from the cot in the stark room he had rented and made his way downstairs. Nobody would think to call the dump a hotel, but it would do. Time to go and find some platelets. Spike asked around and was guided to a decrepit hut where he could buy blood. He tried hard not to think about where the awful tasting thing came from or the obvious unsanitary conditions. Who would have thought he would miss the butcher shop back in Sunnydale?
Sunnydale.
Buffy. The reason he was here. The reason he had braved three weeks in that foul smelling cargo ship.
Don't think about it. Don't think about the feel of her under you. Don't think about the sweet and fresh taste of her warm lips. Just. Don't. Think.
He would be whole again.
Shaking his head he made his way down the dirt road back to the dingy room, cursing under his breath all the way while the locals made a point of staying away from the crazy foreigner.
Tomorrow he would begin the challenge. Tomorrow everything would be different.