If thou be merciful,
Open the tomb, lay me with Juliet." – William Shakespeare, Romeo and Juliet
"Now pile your dust upon the quick and dead,
Till of this flat a mountain you have made
T' o'ertop old Pelion, or the skyish head
of blue Olympus." - William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
Spike took himself up to the desk and listened with half an ear as the guy burbled on about seeing his caseworker. At least he thought it was a guy. The three-eyed bint hadn't called him. This time he'd been summoned to one of the many windows by a squat, gelatinous looking creature that had spit bubbles coming from its mouth every time it talked.
He didn't really pay attention to its liquid pronouncements until he heard something that sounded unfamiliar. "Wait a tick. What was that about my caseworker?"
The blob's eyes or what passed for them shifted inside its greasy, shapeless mass of a head and gazed at the vampire from their watery depths. "Mr. Xorkkandeelieanderwitz is not available to work with you at this time. Your new caseworker has been briefed about the salient details of your file. NEXT!"
"Oh, no, you don't. You're not saddling me with some new bloke who doesn't know what's—" His protests went unheard as the vortex opened beneath him again. He tried scrabbling for a hold on the partition in front of him. But the glass offered no purchase for his clawing fingers and the slot was too slippery. In seconds, the familiar drag from the eddy snatched him away and he was unceremoniously dumped onto the floor of the office.
The vampire jumped to his feet and looked around, ready to tear into Xork's replacement. On the surface, everything looked the same. The identical filing cabinets and cramped interior met his eyes. However, this time the desk was at more or less at chest height and the being behind it was a different person entirely.
She was a feline, like an ocelot in appearance, only with long, tawny hair that was pinned up behind her head in a cute chignon. Fur covered every bit of skin but it lay closely on her as it would on a regular shorthaired house cat. She sat upright and typed on the keyboard with slender fingers covered by a dusky pink nail polish on her long, trim nails. A pink cashmere sweater clung enticingly to her form, curving over a pair of ripe, perky breasts. She smiled at him, exposing a gleaming set of elongated incisors. "Welcome, Mr. Speck. I'm your new caseworker, Rrrragrundalianna."
He stalked over to her, his arms crossed and a petulant scowl darkening his face. "Where's my regular bloke? He's the one who was handling my case. He knows what's the what. Where is he?"
"He went on vacation. It was well deserved and long overdue, if you ask me. Any longer on the job and he was going to come down with a serious case of employee burnout."
His lips thinned with indignation. "What the bloody—? I don't believe this! He was right in the middle of my case and he just decides to chuck it and take off on his vac? How can he do that?" He was whining but he was beyond giving a crap if he came off as childish. He'd felt abandoned on all sides since his death and now his caseworker had taken off! What kind of work ethic did these people have, anyway? They ought to be ashamed of themselves.
"He really needed the rest," Rrrragrundalianna stated in defense of her absent colleague. "I'm sure you noticed the baldness. That wasn't natural in one of his age. He was barely keeping it together what with the insomnia, back rash and foot fungus. He would have started making serious mistakes. We didn't want that and I'm sure you didn't either, Mr. Speck." She arched delicately traced eyebrows in his direction.
He paused indecisively and then dropped down into the chair. "No, guess not," he mumbled with an ill grace. "Any idea when he'll be back?"
She shrugged and the action caused her breasts to bob in an intriguing fashion, an action that would have greatly interested Spike at any other time. "Yes and no. He requested your typical two-week term of absence."
Spike perked up at that news. "That's not so bad."
"Why? Did you wish to be sent back and wait for him to return from his vacation?" Rrrragrundalianna inquired.
Fear clutched the vampire at that prospect. "No! No, I just wanted to know if he could be reached in case, uh, something went wrong, is all."
"I'm afraid he can't be reached. We're talking two weeks according to the calendar of his dimension. That can be anywhere from two years to two hundred years by other standards of measurement."
"Oh, bloody hell," Spike whispered furiously followed by several other choice and descriptive swear words. He sagged back into his chair and rubbed the heels of his palms over his eyes. "So I'm stuck with you then, am I?"
The feline appeared upset by his lack of faith in her abilities. "I'm afraid so," she responded apologetically. "But I assure you I'm fully qualified to perform in Mr. Xorkkandeelieanderwitz's absence. I've been thoroughly briefed on your case, Mr. Speck."
Briefed on his case? The wording was significant and Spike's face became smoothly noncommittal. Rrrragrundalianna's expression seemed to convey a certain hesitancy and Spike felt a kind of hope spring up inside him. However, his calm exterior completely belied his feelings.
"Say, when you say you've been briefed, what does that mean exactly? Don't you have my file up there on the screen like old Morkie did?" He waved his hand at the computer.
"Of course," she replied quickly. She was lying and he could tell it at once even if she was a different species. Here was a bit of good luck. She didn't have his disk and that meant there was a chance for him to take advantage of this situation. He was dealing with an uninformed amateur who couldn't read his thoughts. If he could pull the wool over her eyes, then he might get an extra chance of saving Sunnydale and pulling his undead arse out of the fire—literally.
Rrrragrundalianna continued, blissfully unknowing of the vampire's inner machinations. "You'll have to forgive me if I'm a little hesitant. I'm rather new at this. I usually work upstairs in the Acquisitions Department. This is the first time I've been in Depositions." She smiled apologetically and it was Spike's turn to assume an inquiring expression.
"Acquisitions? Where's that then?" he asked.
"That's where the cases first arrive, where we acquire them, so to speak. I believe you must have come from there to here, yes?" She looked at him, her eyebrows raised.
The grimace flitting over his features at the mere mention of the place spoke volumes of his abhorrence for it. "Oh, you mean the big, boring den of despair where there's nothing to do and no cable? Yeah, been there, done that." Spike said. "Thought it was called the Waiting Room, though."
"I'm sure the people there have all sorts of colorful names for it. But here we call it Acquisitions." She shuffled some papers on her lap and gave the information a swift read through. "Now I believe you're on your fourth temporal trip to save this place called…Sunnydale? Is that the correct pronunciation?"
"Yeah, that's right, luv, though I usually call it Sunnyhell," he answered smoothly. "And actually this is going to be my fourth trip back there. "
The welcoming smile she'd had on her face disappeared as she tapped the papers she'd placed on the desk. "The briefing I had indicated that you have five attempts to make and you've already made four. Therefore, this would be your final attempt to prevent the utter annihilation of this town. You have only only tries left, Mr. Speck."
He pretended to disagree. "I think you might be mistaken, luv. I know how it is when you're suddenly asked to fill in for an absentee co-worker. But I'm telling you, it's only been three trips back. I've definitely got two trips coming to me."
She leaned back in her chair. Her hesitant manner disappeared to be replaced by a brisk, businesslike, non-nonsense attitude. "Very well. I can't authorize you to go anywhere until I've checked this out with my superiors. You'll be sent back to Acquisitions until such time as this discrepancy can be cleared up." She slapped the folder shut and waved a hand at him, preparing to send him back into exile in limbo.
Oh god, no. Not the Waiting Room again. A freezing shudder went through his entire body and he sat bolt upright in the seat. "No, hang on! You know, now that I remember, I did go four times already. I was just a bit confused and all. The trips always take so much out of me and I keep, uh, dying every time. So I thought it was my fourth go-around. Things have been so crazy I don't know if I'm coming or going. Sorry about that, luv." He smiled at her and hoped she was buying his story.
Topaz eyes flecked with purple bored into him unblinkingly. Then another knife-pointed smile graced her fuzzy face. "Very well, Mr. Speck. I'm glad we got that cleared up. So when in the timeline would you like to go this time?"
Spike didn't speak for a moment as he went over his increasingly dwindling options. "Well, the most important thing is that I keep Buffy from dying at the hands of that Glory bint. Tried killing the bitch off and all that got me was a dead sister. So maybe if I off her when her wrinkly minions ain't around, that would be the better choice."
"It sounds like an ambitious plan." Her voice was noncommittal and right away he was nervous. He hated being nervous and afraid; this place had done a great deal towards stripping away his self-confidence.
"You think you've got a better one, then?"
She raised her furry eyebrows again. "I, Mr. Speck? Not a bit. As I said, I am a trifle new to this. If you think killing someone is the best solution to this problem, then by all means, go ahead with it. However, might I be allowed to point out that you have killed people on your previous trips back in time or been in some way responsible for their deaths? In each such instance, you made things rather worse instead of better. Perhaps that is not the best way to alter the situation."
He plopped down in the chair before her. "I'm open to suggestion, luv."
The cat revealed its fangs again. "The name is Rrrragrundalianna."
"That's a bit of a tongue twister for me. Could I shorten it to Ragu?" Spike kept his face utterly straight as he said it. He didn't want this bint to know he was insulting her until he was well away from this place.
"Ragu?" She rolled the word on her tongue as if it were catnip. He'd have sworn she was almost purring. "That sounds fine. It's rather cute, actually. I like it."
"All right. Ragu, it is then." He grinned at her, a bit of his good humor restored.
"Well, now that that's settled, perhaps you'd like to tell me where you'll be headed." She cocked her head inquiringly at him.
Spike considered his options carefully. He'd tried his first encounter with Buffy before she'd actually known him and his reputation and he still hadn't been able to come between her and Angel. Having a go at her that time at Halloween had seemed promising. She'd been so taken with him. She'd been off her chump for him, she had. Women always fancied the romantic rebel. He remembered what a sweet, helpless innocent she'd been under the effects of that spell. In her clinging vulnerability, she'd been a awful lot like Dru. It had been nice to have tenderness from her instead of blows for a change.
But it hadn't helped anyway. Maybe the problem lay in the fact that all the time jumping he'd done had been too far in the past. No matter he did, Buffy was still placed squarely in the thick of Sunnyhell trouble. No, the closer he got to her actual death, the better. That was when him and Buffy had been at their best before her passing. During this time he might be able to convince her to do something sensible.
He looked to the feline eyeing him expectantly from behind the desk. "Can you put me in the night just before that Glory finds out about the Niblet? Buffy's sister, I mean," he added, seeing her lack of comprehension of the nickname.
"Of course." Agile fingers flew over the keyboard, far faster than Xork had been able to manage. He felt the pull of the vortex and hefted a thumb at her.
"Wish me luck, pet," he said before jumping into the whirling eddy.
"Luck, pet," she sang out and inclined her head as she watched him disappear. Then the friendly expression vanished from her face as she snorted. "Fourth time out, indeed. He must think we're idiots."
Spike strolled through the used car lot. He was buying an RV only this time around he wanted one with tinted windows. The extra expense would eat a big hole in his wallet but he would prefer the expense to getting burned if crazy Glinda the Good Witch decided to lift the shades again.
Mr. Cotswold was a little upset. He could smell when a sale was in the air and, although this guy looked a rather seedy customer, he had had all the signs of someone willing to buy and not make too big a fuss on the details.
However, he was only willing to get the RV with the tinted windows. All of Mr. Cotswold's efforts to sell him the little "extras" had been to no avail. The man acted like he merely wanted a fast, sturdy vehicle for the weekend and didn't intend to use it again. That was odd and the salesman decided to probe his customer a little. "Planning a weekend with the wife and kids, sir?"
"Summat like that, yeah," Spike grunted. He wasn't in the mood to be chummy and he gave the tires solid kicks, listening to see they were filled up properly.
"Well, you've made an excellent choice. Sure you don't want to get something with a TV and cable? You know how kids get on long trips. You might need the entertainment set as a distraction to keep them quiet. Goodness knows, after two hours on the road with my children whining 'Are we there yet? Are we there yet?' from the back seat and I'm ready to strangle them. Not that I would, mind you. I love the little rug rats, warts and all," he joked.
"Well, if you think that's the kind of discipline your whelps need, by all means go right ahead," Spike replied. "But I just need the bare essentials, mate. Nothing fancy."
The salesman did his best to swallow his disappointment and favored the Englishman in the leather coat with a sunny smile. He'd tried to sell the man inferior vehicles, hoping to pass them off in the dark as superior merchandise, but the guy acted like he knew what he was doing and ignored all attempts at deception. This RV with the tinted windows was the best he could manage to unload and he'd have to be satisfied with that.
Spike drove his new purchase up to Buffy's house. She'd be on patrol now but he didn't fancy driving through the streets looking for her. Besides, he wanted to surprise her with his thoughtful insight. He didn't park too closely; he couldn't risk prying eyes seeing the vehicle and figuring out what he had planned.
Buffy came striding up to the house and was almost past the RV when she felt the warning tingle that told her a vampire was near. She tensed and spun into a fighting stance as she saw the door swing open. When she saw the familiar blonde head lean out, she rolled her eyes and relaxed. "Spike. What do you think you're doing and why are you doing it in a stolen truck?"
"Can't do it outside and shock the neighbors, now can I?" He leered at her. He'd forgotten how much he missed trading barbs with her and hearing her witty comebacks and she didn't disappoint him.
"Guess you have to do something to relieve the tension since your Buffybot got scrapped."
"Yeah, I just think of you while I'm doing it," he shot back at her. Then he called out to her as she continued walking past him. "Hang on, Slayer. There's something I want to discuss with you."
"Before or after you wash your hands, Spike?" she retorted in a dripping, saccharine tone. "Too bad Harmony isn't around to take up the slack. But I guess that's kinda what it is—slack." She flung a fleeting glance at his crotch and laughed at his stunned, embarrassed expression.
He dearly wanted to make some mention of their future liaisons and see how embarrassed she got over them. But he was here to save her so he put any further comments he had to make on the back burner. "Listen, Slayer, romantic talk aside, I really do have something to tell you." He stepped out of the RV and held the door open.
"I'd rather do it outside, if it's all the same to you, Spike," Buffy said, folding her arms.
He smirked again. "Always figured you for the outdoorsy type, Buffy." He jumped out of the RV and continued speaking, lowering his voice. "I just thought it might be a good idea to have this talk inside away from listening ears—if you get my drift."
She frowned and her eyes darted back and forth, scanning the darkness. "Why not inside the house then?"
"You barred me from the house, remember? Unless you've changed your mind about that?" he said hopefully.
Her expression went cold. "No. Really not of the changing about that, Spike, and I'm not interested in getting into a stolen truck with you."
"First off, it's an RV not a truck. Second, I didn't steal it. Bought it with my own cash, I did. Third, this concerns you and the Niblet. You both need to get out of town."
She was instantly on the alert. "What? Why? What have you heard?"
"Haven't heard nothing, pet. But that Glory's getting closer all the time. Look at what happened to poor Glinda. You want her to start going through all your friends looking for that damned Key of hers? Trust me, it's best you and the Bit got well away from this place." He stepped closer to Buffy. Her scent, tainted with concern and fear, drifted to him and he longed to put his arms around her and kiss her worries away. "You know this is the best thing to do."
Buffy wasn't willing to bail on her responsibilities on the Hellmouth just on Spike's say so. "I-I don't know, Spike. We've managed against Glory so far."
Spike shook his head in disbelief. Buffy was obviously in serious denial if she was willing to believe that. "What are you talking about, Slayer? I was tortured and Glinda got her brains sucked out of her. You want to wait until that gets done to Red? Or Dawn?"
Buffy bit her lip. Spike was right. Glory was breathing down her neck and she was crazy in the bargain. Sooner or later she was going to snap and cut a bloody path through all of her friends. She could still remember what the goddess had said after she'd met Dawn that day she'd come to Buffy's house.
"Ooh, I like her. She's sassy. And I'll kill her. I'll kill your mom, I'll kill your friends…and I'll make you watch when I do."
Buffy shivered as the flat words of the expensively dressed goddess floated through her mind. Spike was right. Time they got out of Sunnydale and hit the road. She said to him, "Can you wait 30 minutes?"
He nodded and climbed back into the RV. "Sure. What're you gonna do?"
"I'm going to get the others up and packed. Be at the front of the house in 30 minutes." The worry in her voice and scent had disappeared. She spoke with firm decision and missed the flicker of displeasure over his face at her stated intentions.
"The others? Hell, pet, I'm thinking it'd be best if we traveled light. No need to bring your little sidekicks along," Spike responded with a frown.
"I'm not leaving them here for Glory to make them into roadkill. My friends need to be kept safe, too." Without waiting for his argument, she turned and jogged the remaining distance to her house.
It took a little longer than 30 minutes, naturally. Birds always took too long packing and now he had to wait for all four of them—the Slayer, Bit, Red and Glinda—and, of course, she had to get the Watcher, the ex-demon bint and the donut boy involved as well. Even knowing what Xork had said about their contribution to the final battle against that overdressed divinity, he still privately thought of them as only a little better than useless. Okay, Red was pretty powerful. You couldn't say otherwise about a bird who'd brought someone back from the dead. But as far as he was concerned the others were just coming along so they wouldn't wind up brain food for the queen of bad perms.
The whelp wasn't too pleased to see him but Spike decided to ignore him. There was too much at stake to bother with teasing a glorified bricklayer. He pulled away from the curb and drove off through Sunnydale. As he passed the "Welcome to Sunnydale" sign he found himself relaxing. That town was hell on all the creatures that lived there, human or otherwise. He was glad to see the back of it.
Xander was having a hard time dealing with the rocking motion of the RV. Did Spike have to hit every pothole in the road? "So…" He paused to swallow as nausea welled up. "Any idea of where we're going? Or is this just a blind leap into the unknown we're taking here?"
"Relax, whelp. I called in a favor with a mate o' mine. He's agreed to put us up for the time being. We can lay low until the mystical portents in the sky or whatnot expires. Glory loses her chance to toddle on home and we can come back and deal with her then."
"Deal with her how, Spike? Glory's kicked Buffy's ass every time they met. The only reason Buffy's actually survived their fights is usually because she runs away or Willow uses magic. If we still have to deal with her when we come back to Sunnydale, we'll wind up getting killed—or worse," Anya pointed out.
"We'll cross that bridge when we get to it," Spike tossed off in her direction.
Anya sniffed, the dismissal failing to ease her worry. "That's not a very practical plan."
"You got a better one? Let's hear it and we'll turn this baby around." Spike glared into the rear view mirror. He couldn't be seen by the ex-demon, of course. But his angry tone needled her into saying the first thing that came into her head.
"Why don't we go to Angel? He's got resources and a place to stay and we know we can trust him. I'm sure if anybody could help us against a goddess, it's a souled vampire," Anya said, ignoring the tension that instantly filled the vehicle.
"Why the hell do you berks keep making such a big deal about a soul? You think it automatically makes somebody better or smarter than the rest of us?" Spike yelled, stung. "Just 'cause the giant poof's got a soul don't mean he's the best demon for the job. My friend—"
"Your friend is a demon?" Xander interrupted. "You didn't tell us that!"
"Oh, didn't I?" Spike shrugged. "Must have slipped my mind. Anyhow, I told you he was a mate. Think I've got many human friends, whelp?"
"Not in this van, at any rate," Xander said. He turned to Buffy and appealed to her. "Buffy, we're running from a demon goddess into the claws of a demon friend of Spike's. Can anyone say frying pan into fire?"
"If Spike says he's reliable, then he's reliable," Buffy replied. But her uncertain look belied her words, a fact Giles was swift to pick up on.
"Ah, but Spike didn't say this demon acquaintance of his was reliable, only that he was a friend who owed him a favor. Who is he, anyway, Spike? I mean, what's his name and species?" Giles inquired.
"His name's Mallbanion. We used to pal around back in the day down in Mexico. He's a Crutzer demon, part of an ancient sect that worships Quetzalcoatl."
"We're going to Mexico?" Dawn exclaimed. "Cool!"
"Sounds like a really long drive," Willow murmured. She stroked the hair of her lover. After initial restlessness, she'd managed to get the woman to take her medication and Tara had settled into an uneasy sleep, twitching and muttering from who knew what terrible nightmares.
Giles was more concerned about the other part of Spike's news. "Quetzalcoatl? The ancient feathered snake god of the Aztecs? Is your friend aware that the creature no longer exists here on earth and that all his followers have vanished?"
"All his human followers, Watcher," Spike corrected. "Many's a demon who think old Snakehead's just sleeping and he'll return to earth someday. After all, there's humans out there who still believe the earth is flat. Go figure." He shrugged as if to say he was past trying to understand people's wacky beliefs.
"I still don't see why we're trusting an anonymous person we don't know rather than the demon we do," Anya said stubbornly.
"Because getting Buffy and Deadboy together is not the best idea, Any." Xander spoke in a lowered voice. He shot a glance in Buffy's direction as he spoke.
Buffy didn't say anything—either because she didn't hear him or because she was pretending not to. She stood up and stretched, saying casually, "You know what? It's been a long day and I'm tired. I'm gonna go and lie down for a couple of hours. Call me if there's any...trouble." Then she retreated behind the drawn curtain.
Anya was less respectful of Buffy's feelings than Xander. Without lowering her voice in the slightest, she carped, "Well, I think Buffy and Angel should put aside their personal drama for the better good of the team. There are more important things at stake here. Honestly, Xander, I know you've always had a problem with Angel…"
"He's not the only one, luv. Angelus took swipes at everybody on this bus," Spike muttered. "'Cepting Glinda, you and the Bit."
Anya ignored him and continued on relentlessly. "But if you had to choose between him and some friend of Spike's, who would you pick if you were in your right mind?"
Willow added her protest to Xander's. "It's not just a question of what Xander wants, Anya. Angel ripped out Buffy's heart and it's still hard for her to see him or hear his name mentioned, which is why WE DON'T MENTION IT," she finished with emphasis, glaring at Xander. It was a glare she'd pretty much perfected ever since he'd taken up with Anya and it said, as usual, "God, how can you put up with that big mouth of hers?"
Xander groaned out, "Anya, I'm having real trouble keeping my stomach from doing the flippy floppy thing without talking about Deadboy."
Anya patted Xander, making circling motions on his back. "It's just that I don't want to be braindrained by Glory or have her do that to you, Xander. I like your brains just where they are."
"Why? He hardly ever uses them," Spike chimed in with a snicker.
"Oh really, Spike? Which one of us has a chip in his cranium because he was too dumb to avoid a bunch of military guys, huh? Raise your hand!" Xander shot back. Spike flipped him the bird and scowled when Xander called out, "Yep. It's you. Thought as much."
"Look, whelp, if you and your demon bint think this is such a bad idea, then you're free to get off the damned bus and wait for the next pickup."
"You can't throw us off!" Anya said hotly. "We have as much right to be here as you. I don't care if you did steal this truck!"
"It ain't a truck and I didn't—oh, you know what? Just forget it. You two ain't worth arguing with," Spike grumbled. "The Slayer's more important so you lot better keep it down while she's sleeping."
Xander subsided. His nausea wouldn't allow him to talk much anyway. He agreed wholeheartedly with Willow about Buffy's feelings. He hated to see Buffy in distress of any kind and Angel was the king of handing out big, heapin' spoonfuls of emotional pain. The farther away from him she stayed, the better it was for her. She'd be happy. Heck, they'd all be happy. He wasn't about to subject Buffy to that whole routine again. They were better off without the brooding wonder and they could manage just fine without him.
But he thought Anya might also have a point about preferring Angel to any friend of Spike's. It was a bad idea to trust the peroxide menace and his unknown friend. As they sped into the night with the dyed vampire at the wheel muttering under his breath about nancy boy vampires with their feeble dependence on hair products, a small voice in Xander's mind couldn't help whispering that they were all making a big mistake entrusting themselves to a soulless if chipped member of the undead.
The question proved to be a moot point as the RV shook in a violent lurch and then skidded dangerously across the road. Spike swore and spun the wheel, fighting to keep the vehicle level. The others raised their voices in panicky shouts and screams. He managed through sheer effort to bring the RV upright to the side of the road.
"What the hell just happened?" Anya demanded. "First you hit every bump in the road and now this! What kind of a driver are you?"
"Stow it, useless!" Spike snarled. "I don't know what happened. It sounded like a tire blew."
Dawn picked herself painfully from off the floor. "How could that happen? I thought this RV was brand new."
"Not 'zackly, Bit. I couldn't afford a new set of wheels so I bought this from a used car lot."
"Figures," Xander groused. He clutched his stomach and tried manfully to resist the effort to heave.
"Well, I didn't see you chipping in to help me buy this rig, so don't complain, whelp," Spike sniped back. God, everything seemed to be conspiring against him. He couldn't remember the RV blowing a tire the last time they'd hied it out of Sunnyhell. Of course, then he'd settled for a different vehicle, the one without the tinted windows.
He hopped out of the RV, turning a deaf ear to the complaints from the people inside. He'd heard the tire blow but he still hoped that it wasn't the case. Kneeling and squinting around the vehicle, he peered at each of the tires until he found the culprit and all hope died. Yep, the tire was blown. Practically shredded, too, by the looks of it. Trust his damned luck. He was beginning to think he was cursed and simply couldn't win no matter what he did.
Anya had come out along with Xander, unwilling to wait inside. While her boyfriend stood taking deep, cleansing gulps of the night air, the ex-demon vented her grievance. "So that's it? We're stranded?" Anya said. "What do we do now?"
Willow poked her head outside the door while keeping a firm hold on Tara. "I say we hitch a ride to Los Angeles," Willow ventured. "It's not that far."
"No!" Spike and Xander yelled simultaneously. Spike continued, "There's no way we're going to the City of Poofs. For once I agree with the idiot," gesturing at Xander.
"And if you're agreeing with an idiot, what does that make you, Chips Ahoy?" Xander turned to Willow. "Wills, I thought we'd already discussed this."
"Xander, I know how you feel about Angel. But Mexico is really far away. And now we have no means of getting there," Willow pointed out to her stubborn friend. She was clutching Tara who had woken with the accident and was now crying softly to herself about the things crawling over her in the dark. Tara was always edgy nowadays since Glory had attacked her and she tended to become even more so when the lights were out. She rubbed the blonde wiccan soothingly up and down her back in an attempt to calm her.
Spike couldn't help but agree although he said nothing aloud. He only had 24 hours to complete his task and he'd already wasted four getting the damned RV and waiting for the Scoobies to get themselves in gear. The trip to Mexico would take another six hours of driving and now their only means of transportation was gone. It was unlikely anyone would come along and pick up eight hitchhikers at night and once again he wished that Buffy had followed his advice and left the others at home. He could hear murmurs from the others about trekking to Los Angeles and his jaw clenched in exasperation at the idea that he might be forced to spend quality time with his rotten Grandsire.
The others stood around loudly debating the matter. Willow, Anya and even Dawn wanted to go to Los Angeles while Xander, Giles and himself were almost equally against it. The only one remaining silent about it was Buffy. Spike looked into her face, almost stoically blank in the faint light of the stars. But with his vampire sight, he could see her perfectly. "Well, Slayer? How about it? Do we push on to Mexico?"
She avoided looking at him and sighed. "Mexico is pretty far but it's a better bet to hide there where her Gloriness can't find us." The hope he experienced as she said these words was swiftly dashed, however, when she continued, "Still, we are stranded and getting to Mexico at this time of night—pretty iffy and I don't fancy trying to make the journey on foot and in the dark. So, all things considered, I'd have to go with Los Angeles."
Spike's heart sank and he gritted out, "Fine. Shoulda known you'd go running to the king of hair gel at the first opportunity."
She rolled her eyes. "Don't be childish, Spike. You had a good plan; you really did and I did agree to it. You just got a crappy deal on the van so now the plan has changed."
"Going to L.A's an even worse plan. You and Angel shouldn't be together. You know that, Buffy," he growled.
"This isn't about me and Angel and you know it, Spike." She stared at him without blinking and he was the first to look away. "This is about keeping Dawn safe. Now we're going to Los Angeles. Grow up and deal."
He shrugged irritably and swung away, his coat flapping in the wind. If they went to visit Angel, he was cutting out. He'd have done his duty and gotten Buffy away from Glory. He didn't need to stay to see her renewing her attachment to the bastard who'd run out on her and left her broken-hearted.
He cast a glance at her face and noted the pensive expression, the softness in her eyes that showed up whenever she thought of Angel. In this time, she'd never had that tenderness for him, not once, and part of him whispered if it wouldn't be worth eternal damnation to keep things the way they were if it meant that she'd still love him as she'd pledged just before Sunnydale collapsed on him.
When a mobile trailer pulled to a stop close to them, he didn't register it for the moment, so wrapped up was he in thoughts of Buffy. Then a gray-haired old lady leaned her head out the window and called out, "Do you young people need a lift somewhere?"
He started and then raced towards her, grinning. "We sure do! Any chance you're headed to Mexico, granmum?"
She blinked in surprise. "Mexico? Dear me, no. But I can take you as far as Salina. That's where my regular house is. You're all welcome to stay there while you can make other travel arrangements."
Tara chose this moment to burst out giggling and pointed at Dawn. "Let's spin down the road and fly to the stars. Let the glowing girl point the way. Pretty, shiny energy! Meant to unlock worlds and bring out all the shiny people!"
The old woman stared at Tara. "Goodness. Is something wrong with that girl?"
"Not a thing, granmum," Spike said hastily. "We were in a bit of an accident, you see, and she bumped her head. She'll be all right once she lies down. Think you can help us with that in your big trailer home?" He smiled winningly at her and she softened.
"Oh, very well. I could never resist helping out others. The Lord tells us to be charitable. You folks just hop in." She swung open the door and the others piled eagerly into the trailer. To them, any shelter was better than tramping on the road—or camping off it.
It was a tight squeeze but, with Spike in the front seat with the elderly woman, they managed to settle themselves more or less comfortably. She drove in silence for a few minutes and then asked the vampire, "Could I ask where you and your family are headed, young man?"
"Um, we're gonna see a friend of mine. Gonna stay with him for a bit." He was determined to give no further information. But it turned out he didn't really need to talk. The old lady was perfectly willing to chatter to him.
"I suppose you're wondering what an old woman like me is doing driving a trailer home by herself."
"No, not real—" he replied when she interrupted him. As she began speaking, he shrank into the seat, painfully aware that this was going to be a long tale.
"You see, my husband retired four years ago and my daughter had moved away to Maryland to be with her husband. His job gave him a promotion that required him to move from California all the way to the East Coast and, being the faithful wife, she decided to follow him." She sighed. "I understand, of course. But the house was so lonely and quiet with them gone. So my husband and I decided to sell it, buy this trailer and take a long trip around the country. It was so much fun and we met so many interesting people. I can also drop in on my daughter, son-in-law and their children whenever I get up to the eastern seaboard," she babbled on. "Then he died about a year ago," she added sadly.
"Really? Shame about that," he grunted, peering out the side window in a vain attempt to distract himself.
"Yes. It was a heart attack. It was sudden and the doctors say he felt no pain. But, of course, doctors always say that, don't they? Have you ever met a doctor who told you somebody died in excruciating agony, even when they were wasting away from debilitating cancers?" He was startled to hear her cackle as she shot him a glance from narrow, shrewd eyes.
"Uh, no. Guess you're right about that," he conceded. "I think docs are just taught to lie in med school. Must come with their training."
She nodded vigorously. "Too true. Too true. Anyway, Herbert died and left me with this trailer. I got a substantial settlement in his will, enough to keep traveling and buy a second house, one small enough for just my little old self. I check into the house every now and then to pick up mail and keep in touch with the neighbors. Say, do you mind if I smoke?"
His mind had been wandering and the question took him off guard. "Whut? You want to smoke? Go ahead. Do you mind if I light up?" he asked in turn, pulling out his pack of fags.
"Not at all." She pulled out a pack of cigars and calmly lit one.
He blinked at the display as thick clouds began filling the chamber. He'd rarely seen little old ladies like her who smoked cigars and he sniffed appreciably at the heady aroma. "Smells great, luv. Your late husband's brand?" he guessed.
She beamed. "That's entirely right. I complained about it when he was alive but I found it missed it once he'd passed on. So now I smoke them every now and again just to keep his memory alive. I know it sounds silly but, when I smell those cigars, it's like he's right here with me." She puffed contentedly on hers and then looked at the vampire. "Would you care to try one, sweetie? It would mean so much to an old lady."
He didn't care for cigars as a rule. But he loved the aroma of this one. So he took the lit stogie she handed him and drew a concentrated cloud into his lungs. His head immediately started swimming and he coughed slightly. "Whoa. Bloody hell, granmum. These cigars are powerful stuff. Sure it was the heart attack that carried off the old bloke and not smoking these things?"
She chuckled heartily at his comment. "I'm sure. The doctors were always warning him to quit but then he'd trot out the old saw about how his grandfather smoked cigars until he was ninety or some such twaddle." She snorted delicately and watched him take another, more cautious, puff.
Soon the strong odor didn't bother him as much as Spike found himself inhaling deeper and deeper lungfuls of the scented clouds. They had a strangely soothing effect and he found his eyes drifting shut. He struggled to keep his eyes open; he didn't want to drop the cigar and risk a fire. But he lost the battle to remain awake. The cigar drooped unnoticed from his slack fingers and the old lady deftly plucked it from his hand before it fell.
"That's right, dearie. You have a nice long rest. I have to have a little talk with your friends about the pretty, shiny girl back there." She continued to drive until preternaturally sharp ears told her the others in the back had fallen asleep. Then she quietly parked the car and got out.
The old lady stood in the trailer, looking over the sleeping inhabitants. The elderly woman's face became expressionless as she removed the gray wig on top of her head. Then the top of her skull began to move. With barely a sound, a thin, whiplike snake shot out of her head and opened its jaws. Angling over the sleepers, a misty substance sprayed over each and every one of them: the older gentleman, the brunette boy and the cheaply dyed blond in his arms. She marched soundlessly as a ghost to the exhausted redhead and her crazed lover. The demon froze as Tara opened her eyes and peered up at her drowsily.
"Gotta get back," Tara murmured. "Big day. Big day coming. Glory, glory, hallelujah!" She giggled and the old woman smiled indulgently at her.
"You're quite right, sweetheart. It's a big day for Glorificus. But nothing's going to happen without her Key and I need you to be quiet like a good little lamb—that's led to the slaughter." Angling towards Tara's face, the snaky appendage sprayed her and Willow and the golden-haired wiccan became still and silent, her limbs moving sluggishly in the cot.
"Don't try to struggle, sweetie. The paralysis will take hold shortly." The old woman looked her up and down, noting the blond's generous curves. "How I'd love to make a meal of you. But I'm afraid I don't have time. I still have a Slayer and a Key to deal with. Toodles!" She turned towards the division that held Buffy and her tuckered out little sister. Tara remained behind, slowly blinking in the darkness.
The first rays of dawn edged over the sleeping vampire's fingers. They began to smoke and the burning smell reached his nostrils seconds later. "SHIT!" Spike screamed and flinched away from the reddish-gold sliver of sun on the horizon.
What had happened? Had he overslept? No, he knew whenever the dawn was coming. The only time he was caught unawares was when he'd been drinking too much and was feeling suicidal after one of Drusilla's many infidelities. But he hadn't been drinking the night before…
Then he noticed the others on the ground. They'd been dragged off the side of the road and left in various awkward poses. As he looked them over, some began stirring. Anya cuddled into Xander's arms and shivered. "Xander, honey, stop hogging the covers. My ass is cold."
Xander shuddered as well, his features twitching and his arms clenching around the yielding female form in his arms as he tried to burrow groggily into her warmth. "Mom, not now. Can't I sleep in just a little longer…?" His words trailed off and his mouth hung open, drool oozing onto Anya's hair.
Spike cast his eye around and found Buffy a little farther off. She was lying still on the ground and his eyes became riveted on her as he noted her unnaturally twisted body, the eyes blindly gazing at the sky and the utter lack of a heartbeat.
Giles groaned and rolled over. "W-what is it? Buffy?" He sat up sluggishly, wincing as his hand landed on a jaggedly edged rock. "Goodness, where are we?" He fumbled for his glasses out of his shirt pocket and stared about the landscape in bewilderment.
They were at the side of the road—how far from Sunnydale, Spike had no idea. He wanted to run to Buffy but the rising sun made it imperative that he get under some shade at once. "Giles."
Rupert Giles peered at Spike. The vampire was staring off to the side, a rigid, unfathomable look on his face. And had he just called him by his name? He couldn't recall ever hearing the vampire gracing him with anything other than one of his insulting nicknames. The Watcher followed Spike's gaze and saw Buffy's body. He staggered up and ran to her, falling to his knees as he saw the stiff posture and the open wound across her throat. "Oh god, Buffy. No, my sweet girl. No."
The sun was edging higher over the horizon but Spike was oblivious to the increasing sting. He knelt beside the Watcher and reached out to touch Buffy's face. Smoke began rising in thin tendrils from his fingers but he didn't seem to notice.
Giles however noted the vampire's condition. He looked around to the others and noted which members of their team were missing. "Spike." When the vampire didn't answer, he spoke more sharply. "Spike!"
"Wh-whut? Okay, okay, I'm up," Xander said, sitting up so abruptly he dislodged Anya, waking her as well.
"'Bout bloody time, if you ask me," Spike said without turning to look at them and then hissed as the sun got stronger. He shrank behind the tall Watcher for shelter as Giles got to his feet.
"Oh my god!" Willow screamed, startling them all. "Where's Tara?" Xander looked around and saw the other wiccan was missing as well as Buffy's little sister.
"Giles, what's going on? Why are we out here?" Anya had gotten to her feet and walked over to the Watcher and vampire kneeling on the ground. "Buffy, is this any time to be sleeping? Honestly, for a Slayer you could be a little more alert."
"Anya, will you SHUT UP?!" Giles yelled.
The ex-demon gaped at him. "What? All right, I know you're her Watcher but you shouldn't be so indulgent. Our clothes are—"
"Do what the Watcher says, you tactless bint, and shut it," Spike growled.
She glared at the pair of them and opened her mouth to speak again when she noticed their stares. She edged around them to get a closer look at the recumbent blond and paled. "Xander! Get over here. Buffy's been killed!"
"What?" Xander ran to his girlfriend and looked in shock at the still body on the ground. Moments later they were joined by Willow and they all froze there, a still tableau of grief as they looked on their murdered friend.
"Oh no. Xander, what are we gonna do now?" Anya whispered.
"W-we have to bury her, Anya. We can't leave her like this," Xander responded uncertainly.
There wasn't shelter for several yards in any direction. Spike felt himself began to smoke as the Watcher shifted slightly and he hissed, "Will you bloody stay still? I'm starting to fry here!"
Giles responded with faint asperity, "I can't stay here in the same spot all day, Spike. We're going to have to come up with a solution and quickly." The other Englishman called out to the others, "Do any of you see shelter where Spike can hide?"
No one responded. Then Willow began to cry softly followed by sniffling from Anya as Xander wrapped his arms around the two women. Giles spoke calmly but with steely resolve as he tried to get their attention. "Please. You must listen to me, all of you. This is a terrible tragedy. But we will soon have a greater one if we don't move. Dawn is missing and so is Tara. I can only assume that that woman or whatever she was drugged us all, killed Buffy and kidnapped those two. If she did so, there can only be one reason, one purpose."
He let a moment of silence drag by as he saw understanding and dread dawn on everybody's faces. "We need to rescue Dawn. Glory has her or will have her soon."
"Are you crazy, Giles?" Anya demanded. "Buffy was our strongest fighter. With her dead, we don't stand a chance against Glory! She'll kill us all!"
"Then we must hurry after Dawn and hope we get to her before Glory gets her hands on her," Giles responded.
"And how do you propose we do that, Giles? That supposedly nice old lady tricked us, captured Dawn and took her back to Sunnydale in her trailer. She's got who knows how much of a headstart on us and she has vehicular transportation. So this is it! Glory has Dawn, we're all doomed and it's all your fault!" she spat at Spike.
Spike glared at her. Then he snarled, "Me? How is this my fault? Are you daft, woman, or has spending time with the whelp here addled your brains?"
"You wanted to go to Mexico. I wanted to go to Los Angeles and if we'd have done that we'd have been safely with Angel. But, oh no, Spike's plan of hightailing down to Tequilaland was so much better than mine so that's where we went. And now the world's going to go to hell in a handbasket and all because you've got issues with the guy who got to Buffy first!" Anya yelled, her voice becoming higher and more hysterical with every word.
Spike's throat went dry at her choice of words. But amazingly it was Giles who came to his defense. "Anya! This isn't Spike's fault! It was a good plan. It wasn't his fault the tire blew out or that lady tricked us. You didn't sense anything wrong with her and you got in the trailer with the rest of us. So there's no point in blaming Spike for Dawn being missing unless you're willing to dole out shares of blame to everybody else—including me," he finished almost inaudibly.
He swallowed hard and squinted into the rising sun. The sky was imperceptibly lightening; soon it would be impossible for Spike to remain out of doors. "Now. We are going back to Sunnydale."
"And what do we do when we get there? We have no idea of where Dawn or Tara are," Anya pointed out.
"I can find Tara," Willow stated calmly.
Xander gaped at her. "You can? But how? I mean, all our clothes are gone and you don't have any of your witchy equipment."
Willow shook her head and sat down on the ground cross-legged. "I don't need any to find Tara. I can just sense where she is." She closed her eyes and seemed to sink into herself, ignoring Xander's further attempts to question her.
Giles nodded and shooed the brunette away from her. "Xander, let her alone. I think Willow can handle this. Once that's done, we'll hitch a ride to the nearest gas station and call for Angel. He can certainly get to Sunnydale quicker than we can and, if we tell him where Dawn is, he stands a better chance of rescuing her."
Spike started. He knew where Dawn would be. They could get there ahead of time and waylay that Glory bitch! He opened his mouth to speak to the Watcher—and nothing came out. He tried again with the exact same result.
Giles gazed in puzzlement at the vampire's strange antics. "Spike, what is it? Did you have something you wanted to say?"
The vampire growled in rage. Xork had warned him. He couldn't tell these people anything of the future. He couldn't even tell her about that sodding tower since he'd found out about it the same time as these others. It was like there was a mystical constraint on his tongue preventing him from speaking. He sagged and gazed into the ex-Watcher's eyes. "I-it's just I'm frustrated at being stuck here while you all go off to fight the good fight, is all."
He flicked him a wan smile. "It's quite all right, Spike. Maybe we'll catch up with that woman in the trailer and rescue Dawn back before we have to tangle with Glory."
"Yeah. Maybe this time I'll get lucky," Spike muttered sotto voce.
"What? What was that, Spike?" Giles asked him, a frown puckering his forehead.
"Nothing," the vampire replied heavily. "What do you want me to do while you lot are off tangling with the hellbitch?"
Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them wearily. "Spike, soon it's going to be too bright out here. We can form a makeshift shelter from some of our clothing but we can't take you with us."
"Well, if somebody gives us a ride, can't we cover Spike up?" Willow ventured.
"That's if we get a ride, Willow. We may not be able to acquire one soon enough to help him," Giles pointed out to her.
Spike continued to gaze at Buffy's body. "Watcher, I've got an idea. You lot go on—don't worry about me."
Giles peered at him. Spike's tone was curiously grim. He wondered what the vampire was planning. "Spike, we can't abandon you. Buffy wouldn't have wanted that. Besides, Glory has to wait for nightfall to-to use Dawn. That's hours from now and we could still use you. We just have to find a way to get you to Sunnydale."
"In the meantime, what will Spike do for protection?" That came from Willow, worry for her beloved Tara dulling her normally shining green eyes.
The vampire smiled humorlessly. "I'm going to bury Buffy. Then I'll just rest in her grave until the sun sets."
"What? No, no way! That is beneath sick, Spike, even for you," Xander protested. "Giles, tell him that is a non-plan!"
"Actually, it makes a great deal of sense, Xander," Giles replied in a low murmur. "I doubt he'll do anything to the body and, if he can manage to hide her and himself so they're free from prying eyes, he can survive until nightfall."
"It's just…" Xander shuddered. "It's just so creepy. Isn't there another way? How about two graves?"
"There ain't time for that, Donut Boy. The sun's rising. One's all I'll be able to manage. Don't worry," he added. "I won't hurt her. Just make sure to cover us both up when I'm finished." The vampire had knelt down and, with his vampiric speed, had already begun to shovel out handfuls of sandy dirt from the roadside. In minutes, he'd managed to create a shallow indentation in the ground.
Xander watched him uncertainly. The image of Spike cuddling with Buffy's dead body in the ground was really repulsive and the idea seemed sacrilegious. But he really couldn't figure out any other option.
Giles sighed into the dismal silence and said, "Now that that's settled, Anya, perhaps you could try flagging down a car. Willow, start that locator spell."
"What do you want me to do, G-man?" Xander asked.
"We should assist Spike," Giles replied. "We might not be able to do much with our bare hands but it should make the chore go faster." The brunette man nodded and they silently joined Spike at his task.
"To sleep, perchance to dream. Ay, there's the rub,
For in that sleep of death what dreams may come
When we have shuffled off this mortal coil,
Must give us pause." – William Shakespeare, Hamlet, Prince of Denmark
Spike heard the others leave. Even through the dirt covering him, he could make out their voices, hear the plans that they made—and the grief all too evident in their voices. There was excited chatter from Anya as she managed to get a truck to take them back to Sunnydale.
He lay there in the silent blackness and fought off incipient bouts of claustrophobia. This wasn't the first time he'd lain in a grave by any means. Now that the sun was up, maybe he could get to sleep. He took a good, deep whiff of Buffy's familiar scent. With the warmth of her body gone, the scent was dead and dry, a mere shadow of her luscious odor. But it brought with it all the memories of the few happy times he'd known with her. He nuzzled the lifeless hair and struggled to shift closer under the leather duster and piles of earth that covered them both.
"Don't worry, luv. They'll find the Bit. I'll get there as soon as I can and we'll stop Glory. I know things look bad to you. But this time we're bringing Angel into the mix. Frankly, I don't think he'll do any better than I did but the others have faith in him." There was a short silence while he sought for the words to tell her. "I meant what I said before, Buffy. You're the one. You're the one I love."
Deep in the back of his mind lay the thought of his dismal failure. He'd tried his utmost and still lost Buffy. He could still save Sunnyhell but without her what was the point? Hadn't Xork told him that his fate and the Slayer's lay together? Even if he managed to pull a miracle out of his arse this time, the only reward he could get would be to live in a world without Buffy.
He thought of Willow's spell. He could let her bring back Buffy and the idea was tempting. Yeah, Xork had said that the First came back because of Buffy's resurrection. But what if they took precautions this time around? What if they changed the battle plan? Instead of him wearing that soddin' necklace and going up against the First's army with nothing more than a magic axe and a pack of irritating bints, they could get in an army. Hell, he'd even stand Riley if it meant they took on those Ubervamps with a rocket launcher or two.
The idea was an exciting one. Then he remembered. This was his last chance to save Sunnydale, his very last chance. If he failed now, he was damned and all this future planning was pointless. He gritted his jaw. He wouldn't fail. He personally was going to find Glory and her minions and make them sorry they'd ever messed with William the Bloody.
Movement wasn't really possible and after awhile he gave up the efforts. He lay still in the grave and let sleep claim him, the smell of his dear Slayer in his nostrils.
"Angel." Spike frowned in his sleep, ridges forming unintentionally as he heard that hated name.
"Angel. Yes, yes. Harder. More, I want…more!" Buffy's body formed a glorious arch as she rocked over the vampire beneath her. Spike watched in shock as the woman he loved bounced on Angel's prone body. Her naked flesh glistened with sweat and broad hands cradled her back and hips as she moved in a familiar rhythm.
"Buffy," Angel moaned. "Leannen. Love you. Oh god, just like that, baby."
What the hell was this? He'd had nightmares of Buffy being with Angel but none in the last year and none so graphic and detailed. He could see every pore in Buffy's skin and all the muscles shift and clench as she moved faster and faster over his Grandsire. Their voices rose, each spurring the other on to greater heights of passion.
"No!" he yelled and surged towards them only to drift through their bodies as if he were insubstantial. The two continued in their motions apparently insensible of his presence. He looked around the room to grab a weapon, anything to pry them apart. There was a tasteful lamp on the table. Scratch that; it was too light for his purposes. Equally decent wooden furniture abounded, most of it too heavy to be of use, and his eyes narrowed as he surveyed his surroundings, trying to ignore the moans that came from the bed.
The place appeared to be a very well-furnished woman's bedroom. It was Buffy's style. He could even recognize the underwear scattered on the floor as being definitely the Slayer's usual style. But why would he dream about Angel and Buffy in such a place? He was sure his Grandsire had never been with Buffy in a bedroom like this.
Finally, the ardent voices behind him were too much. He tried leaving only to discover that he couldn't travel more than a few feet from the frantic lovers. He attempted to bang his head on the table only to have his hand and head went right through it. He was apparently intangible as well as invisible and inaudible. Then he heard both voices rise to a crescendo and gritted his teeth, squeezing his eyes shut and clapping his hands over his ears.
"God, Angel," Buffy whispered. "I-I'd almost forgotten what it was like with you."
"Same here, leannen," Angel replied and Spike could hear the soft smack of a kiss.
"What does that mean—leannen?"
"Old Gaelic word. It means 'darling' or 'dear one,' " he replied.
"Leannen. I like it. Can it be used for men, too?"
"Ah no. It's only applied towards women," Angel corrected.
"Oh. So how do you say hot, sexy, studly male in Gaelic then?" she teased.
A snort of laughter was her only answer. Then there were more kisses followed by breathless gasps and sighs. When it became evident they were going to start again, Spike opened his mouth and howled.
He came awake as the sun set, decades of vampiric existence telling him exactly when that fiery orb had settled beneath the horizon. He began scrabbling up through the loosely packed earth, fury and panic lending him urgency.
What the hell had that dream been about? It had been sheer torture and he couldn't believe his mind was playing such tricks on him at a time like this. Bad enough they were getting the great poof involved, he had to have nightmares about his sex life as well?
Spike dragged his duster up with him, shrinking in disgust as he tried to brush off the worst of the dirt. It was going to be next to impossible to get a ride looking and smelling like this. But maybe he could pretend that he'd been robbed. Or better yet, he'd just leg it to Sunnyhell. He might get in on the action sooner than the others.
He did his best to level out the hole from which he had emerged. "Don't worry yourself, Slayer. After this is all over, I'll find you and give you a proper burial. You can count on that. Maybe, if I'm lucky, I'll see you again." He straightened and began running off without looking back again.
In spite of stopping and holding out his thumb, no one had been willing to stop. Still, he was making good time. He could see the lights from the city limits looming just ahead of him. Then the air—curdled. There was simply no other word for it. It was as if the very fabric of the world around him was being torn and despair crashed down on him as he realized what it meant. He was too late. Doc or Glory had bled Dawn and the world was being ripped asunder as a result.
There was a sharp crack of lightning from the clear sky and a reddish seam opened up in the air beside him. An overly muscled demon with four arms stepped from the unnatural hole and let out a ululating yell as it saw him. It was soon joined by at least a dozen of its comrades and they charged at him, various weapons being brandished in their arms.
The vampire lifted his fists, a manic gleam surfacing in his eyes. "Well, I always knew I'd go out fighting. Bring it on, you ugly ponces." It was an uneven struggle but he didn't allow that to stop him. Managing to disarm one of the beasties, he turned the creature's own weapons against it and skewered him before the others managed to get so much as a blade on him.
This was a glorious fight, one that had Spike's demon howling in glee as he slashed and cut at each of his adversaries. His face and body streaming with blood, Spike grinned furiously at the remaining fighters. "Had enough, you wankers? Or are you ready for more?"
They either lacked sense or were as stubborn as he. They charged him again and this time their numbers proved sufficient to overwhelm him. He continued stabbing away even as one spear hamstrung him, bringing him to one knee. They obviously had no idea what he was or the proper means to kill him for they continued to hack away at his body. A chance blow severed his head from his neck and the demons grunted in astonishment as their enemy's body turned to dust, scattering in the wind.
They looked around, sniffing at the mystifying variety of smells that came from this new world and then the largest of them pointed at the cars whizzing by on the highway. Scenting food and sport in equal measure, they hefted their weapons and turned as one towards the bright lights beckoning them.
"Our very hopes belied our fears,
Our fears our hopes belied.
We thought her dying when she slept.
And sleeping when she died." – Thomas Hood, "The Death-Bed"
TBC
"Spike Multiplied" Only the Lonely Can Ride, ch. 6 of7
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