Title: Still Smokin'

Series: Angel and Spike: The Reunion Tour

Author: CindyCindy

Feedback: please.

Rating: R

Summary: Spike heads to Europe to find the man who will most likely be able to help him track Angel.

Disclaimers: I do not own these characters. Joss does. Oh, and the title is a Mystikal song.

Author's Notes I: Some drug use and whorring. Spike might have a soul, but he still is not a saint people. This is not advocating drug use. I just think it is something Spike would do.

Authors Notes II: De Troost is Dutch for "solace", and dank u is Dutch for "thank you". Ich (pronounced ish in this dialect) is German for "I". Kommen Sie heir is German for "come here". Ja is "yes". Eine Jackie is "one Jack Daniels". If any native German speakers are reading this, I proffer my sincerest apologies if they find this insulting in anyway. I live in Deutschland and believe I may become an expatriate.

Authors Notes III: I forgot to thank my husband who beta read this chapter and the previous one. Thanks Gremy!

PART 1

The whirling flakes all told me to go see the Nutcracker Prince and his Sugar Plum Queen. He tasted like peppermint, and she smelled of plumeria. Daddy never cared for Tchaikovsky anyway.

"Man on a mission here, will not be distracted. Come to see a demon about a demon. That's all!" Spike had been repeating this mantra to himself since his Vegas sources told him where his target could be found. Since he landed on the Continent, he had taken to repeating it aloud. As he was now leaving Centraal Station, he found himself practically shouting it. Spike headed south towards the Walletjes. "God damn it Lorne, why did you have to set up shop in the heart of the bloody Red-Light District. How in bloody hell is a man supposed to stay on task?" A couple walking along side of him stopped and stared. "What the hell you staring at? Thought Amsterdam was supposed to be a tolerant city!" Spike barked to the onlookers.

A few blocks later, and with a more concerted effort to quit yammering aloud Spike had reached his goal. Lorne's new haunt was situated between a coffee bar and a whorehouse. 'Makes sense.' Spike thought as surveyed the scene in front of him. Lorne's place was typical looking bar with a small sign on the door proclaiming it to be De Troost. To his left he caught sight of a scantily clad prostitute brushing her hair in her window. Spike looked at her and grinned. The women in the window gave him a little wink. "Cheeky little chit," he said as he headed into Lorne's club.

The club was richly furnished. Demons and humans alike reclined on green velvet couches or sat in plush green chairs clustered around small tables of mahogany. The walls wear painted a deep, warm, yellow and festooned with impressionist art. A large bar lined the back wall and to Spike's left stood a stage. On the stage stood the object of his search. Spike took a seat at the bar and ordered himself a Heineken. Spike spun around to face the stage as Lorne belted out the last verse of "Somewhere Beyond the Sea." As Lorne took his bow to a thunderous round of applause, Spike caught his eye.

"Dank u. It gives me great pleasure to introduce Bartram of the Gorlon People. Tonight he will be singing his rendition of "Can You Feel the Love Tonight", by Sir Elton John. Let give it up for Barty people, he is in search of his sister's husband so he can evicsoarte him and restore the honor of his families' name," Loren said as he handed the microphone of to a towering yellow demon. Lorne stepped down and made a beeline to the bar where Spike was waiting.

"Hello Lorne, nice place you got here," Spike began, "We need to talk some business."

"Sorry Cheekbones, I told Angel not to come looking for me or send any of his people. I'm out of the hero game." Lorne called over to the bartender, "Jacques, how about gin and tonic over here." Lorne turned back to Spike as he accepted his drink. "Sorry you came all this way, don't let the door hit that tight little butt of yours on the way out."

"Angel didn't send me you great, green, git. Here to get an idea of where he might be. Dropped clean off the radar," Spike said

"And you think I can help you?" asked Lorne.

Spike raised his eyebrow. "Can you?"

Lorne raised both eyebrows in return. "Hmmm... answering a question with a question, are we? Listen Spike, you better order yourself a few more drinks, because you are going to have to sing for your supper like everyone else here. Now if you will excuse me I have to give Bartram the low down on his cad of a brother -in-law." With that, Lorne walked over to the pus yellow demon.

"Hey Jack," Spike shouted over to the bartender, "A double whisky neat, with a beer back."

Spike had just finished his second round when he heard Lorne anounce him. Spike made his way up to the stage and took the mike. The music cued and he began to sing.

"Hey there little Red Riding Hood, you sure are looking good. You're everything a Big Bad wolf could want..."

After many more bows than necessary, and a nice round of applause Spike handed the mike off to Lorne with a smirk on his face.

"William the Bloody, people. Who knew? Okay our next act is a local we all know and love. Let's hear it for Girt the Dirt Mert!" Lorne handed the mike off again and walked over to the side stage where Spike was waiting. "Go to the coffee shop next door. I'll be there as soon as I can."

PART 2

When I killed his wife with the naughty eyes and their baby with the sweet dimples all, he said was, 'He wasn't mine anyhow.' The moon told me I dared not pass over such a deliciously dark soul.

Spike sat in the dark coffee house. The heady scent of the joint he was smoking surrounded him. Nagging questions that had been stirring in the back of his mind now came to the forefront. Why was he doing this? He had been comfortable in Las Vegas. There was enough action there, demon and otherwise, to keep him busy for an eternity. The question troubled him. Could it be that he had enjoyed fighting evil with Angel? No. Maybe it was because Buffy wanted his help. That seemed more plausible, but didn't quite fit. "Damn weed is making me all introspective-like," he said aloud.

"Never saw you as a stoner Spike-o, more like a charter member of AA."

Spike looked up to see Lorne standing across the cafe table. "Kicked me out after I took a bite out of my sponsor," he said, "Anyway, when in Rome..." Spike stubbed out the roach in an ashtray and looked at Lorne expectantly.

Lorne sat down across from him. "Any way yourself, that was a knock out performance. The wolf howls alone were a hoot and a half."

"Known some werewolves in my time." Spike said, "Song sings it self as it is.'

"That is does." Lorne leaned in toward Spike. "But as it stands you should been up there crooning Sweet Home Alabama, Sweetness."

"Come again." Spike was thoroughly confused.

"Angel is in Alabama. Or he will be. Tuscaloosa to be exact. Anyway that is where the two of you meet up again." Lorne sounded perfectly composed.

Spike was incredulous. "What in bleeding hell is that great nonce doing in Alabama? Playing at being one of the Duke boys is he? "Spike asked.

"That's neither here nor there," Lorne replied. "Now as for that big question mark you have hanging over your head .Why you are doing this? Sorry sugar can't help you there."

"What do mean-"

"Now don't get your panties in a twist. I said I couldn't help you. Did you happen to see a rather fetching lady of the evening next door to De Troost?"

Spike cocked an eyebrow at Lorne. "Yeah, what of it?"

"Her name is Greta and she's waiting for you. You guys can uh... talk the rest of this thing out." Lorne smiled.

Spike stared at Lorne in disbelief.

"Don't look so shocked. She's a total professional who also happens to be a very good psychic."

Spike started to smile.

"Better get going then Blondie. She's not going to wait all night."

"Off I go then mate." Spike stood up, clasped him hard on the shoulder, and was on his way out the door when Lorne called to him.

"Spike, how did you know where to find me?" Lorne asked.

"Just asked around a bit in Vegas. Seems you still have quite the following there. Be seeing ya then," and with that he was out the door.

Lorne smiled and said "Lorne baby, you are still smokin'!"

As soon as Spike stepped out the door of the coffee house, he saw Greta leaning in her doorway. Spike walked straight over to her. "So pet, I hear you can help me get a few things sorted out, so to speak."

"Ich can see that you are very confused Herr Spike. Ich like this no. Come! We will get this straightened out." Greta motioned for him to follow.

Spike looked Greta up and down. She was small and slender with a mess of dirty blonde hair, a pert little nose and a full mouth. He could get into this. "That's an invitation then?"

"No more of this foolishness. Kommen Sie heir." she smiled and went inside.

Spike did not hesitate to follow. 'That Lorne's got a good head on his shoulders,' he thought. Spike always was a sucker for a German accent.

"Okay, Herr Spike. Take off the clothes and let's get down to the business."

An hour later Spike sat on the end of the bed smoking a cigarette. "Bloody fantastic! All right ducks, now that you've read me and all, you can tell me why I am here."

"Oh that was not the reading. I do the reading like this-" Greta winked an eye at Spike. "See? All done."

"Not complaining here, but was before all about then?"

Greta lit up a joint took a hit and passed it to Spike. "For fun. For you. Maybe a little for me, ja?" she said, "Lorne said maybe Ich can help you more than one way." She smiled and looked at Spike.

Spike narrowed his eyes at the thought of being pitied.

"Lorne is a good man, he does not pity you, is more like empathy. Would you like a drink? "

Spike nodded as he took a hit. Lorne's stock was rising by the hour here. Spike exhaled. "Jack Daniels if you've got it."

"So, eine Jackie for the vampire."

He accepted the drink and handed Greta the joint. "So, about why I'm here."

"Herr Spike, you know very well why you are here. You will help because you are a champion. It is the right thing to do." Greta smiled. "Maybe you have not always done the good things for the good reasons, but now you do. Don't you see?"

"Ta very much, but I'm not sure that's entirely true." Spike ran his hand through his hair, which was standing straight up and he grinned. "You see, I can be a very bad man."

Spike whistled to himself as he walked to his hotel near the train station. 'That was a bit of all right,' he thought to himself. He would have given Greta every Euro in his pocket but she insisted "for the champion, Ich no charge". She still never kissed him on the lips, professional courtesy and all.

In his hotel room, Spike sprawled across the bed and stared at the ceiling. He was pretty buzzed still, but for a moment, everything seemed so clear. Spike was Alabama bound.