Part 5

2004

The bottle was empty. He shook it and peered at it carefully to be sure, but he had to admit the truth of it. With a sigh he placed it carefully on the grass at the end of the line of its six similarly alcohol-devoid brothers. The glass chinked softly. Cheers, he giggled softly. He peered at the bottles for a moment longer, pouted, then turned to look out over the city. Oh, pretty lights. What could he see? Dome of St. Paul's – no change there; big, phallic-looking pointy thing, all lit up and sparkly like a big… gleaming… he snorted… whatever; fucking great big wheelie thing that he was bloody sure hadn't been there last time he looked; Houses of Parlimini… Parmili… Parliament… Yup. London. He frowned. Seemed he was still in control of most of his faculties, then. Clearly not nearly drunk enough.

He turned to look at his companion, nudged the sleeping form and was rewarded by a grunt and a loud snore. Bleedin' ponce. No head for liquor. And what was with the snoring? Since when did he breathe, let alone snore? He glared at the other man, then raised an eyebrow and looked around cautiously. Carefully he reached over and teased the dark, gelled hair into two pointed horns on top of the sleeping head. He squinted and admired his handiwork. Not bad.

He looked back over the city, trying to draw something from its familiarity. It had seemed a good idea at the time, this little diversion. Yeah, OK, so they had to get back to LA, but where was the hurry? And it wasn't like good old Blighty was far out of their way and all, not with the evil empire's jet at their disposal and Wolfram and Hart UK falling over themselves to help out. Speaking of which… he picked up an empty bottle and waved it, eyebrow cocked, at the liveried driver waiting discreetly, if somewhat uncomfortably, a few yards away. The man winced and raised his eyes to the darkened sky, but disappeared obligingly enough.

He grinned. Travelling with the big man had its advantages. There was one hell of a bar in that limo.

Where was he? Oh, yeah. Good idea at the time. He'd had the sudden urge to be somewhere familiar, somewhere that held memories for him – memories that didn't involve… her. Some vague notion that he could prove to himself he had had a life before she'd come into it and he was quite capable of having one now she'd gone out of it. She'd clearly done the moving on thing, so… he closed his eyes with a groan and put his head in his hands.

The bloody Immortal! What the hell was she thinking of? Of all the stupid, brainless, dim-witted… He shook his head and set his jaw. No – her life, her decision. He was good with that.

Like hell.

"She said she loved me!" He pointed an accusing, if somewhat unsteady, finger at the sleeping lump and got a loud, incoherent grunt in return. "She bloody well did, too," he muttered, pout firmly in place. He stared off into the distance. But she hadn't meant it, he'd known that, leastways not like he needed her to mean it. Ah, but, the small still voice inside wasn't giving up, a little bit of you hoped that maybe she did…

He felt suddenly, and annoying, stone cold sober. It wasn't working. Even here, looking down over a city she'd never seen, there were memories for him. Memories of the quiet moments when he'd watched her sleep and let himself dream of one day showing her his homeland, fantasies of being here with her to lay the ghosts of his past.

Stupid git.

Well, it clearly wasn't going to happen. She had got herself the new life she'd wanted, the chance to be normal, and OK, if she chose to waste that chance on… on the Immortal… that was her decision. He had no claim on her, and she had no claim on him. Own man, here. He sighed. Except for the fact that he still loved her with every fibre of his being, naturally.

Fuck.

What was that bollocks he'd spouted to Buffy and the poof that time? Something about brains and blood… 'Love's bitch', that was it. He glared out over the city. Well, not any more. Had enough of buggering around at the whim of some bloody female or other. Gonna get himself a life… unlife… whatever. This was one vampire who was swearing off the whole love thing and finding something better to do, something that didn't fuck with your head so much. Right. New leaf. As of now.

For all of half a second he almost believed it.

He sighed. "C'mon, mate. Time for the off." He stood up, nudged his companion with his foot.

"Wha'?" A confused mumble. "We moving?"

"Yeah." He hauled the bigger man to his feet and hooked his arm over his shoulder. "Movin' on."

In the absence of any better offers, he might as well hang out with Peaches a bit longer, get a few kicks from annoying the crap out of the tight-arsed sod. And of course, if ever this 'destiny' bollocks paid off and tall, dark and forehead got his sandshoes, someone had to be there to save him from himself and vamp the bugger back again. Meantime, there was always the Blue Meanie to play with. He winced. When the bruises from their last little bout of play had faded, anyway. Besides, way things were shaping up it looked like there might be enough opportunities for a bit of demon arse-kicking to keep him amused until something really interesting happened. Yeah. Who the hell needed a woman complicating things, anyway?

Together they made their way down the hill towards the limo waiting to take them back to the jet and the long flight west to face the music. There was still the little problem in LA to sort out; small matter of a lost head.