2.

One Big Pile of Sand

So far, Australia had lived up to all he'd been told it was like: one big pile of sand.

Of course, he was in the middle of Australia, right at the heart of the dessert, where there was the most sand in the country, yet he still felt it was his right to be able to complain about every aspect of his little mission. He had after all not wanted to be the one on this mission.

To any normal person whose eyes might've rested on this presently grumbling man would have seen someone who was perhaps a little unusual looking maybe, but have thought nothing more.

For someone to have heard him talk the thought would have been that he was English by his accent, perhaps a little crude by the language he used.

But this man was so much more than what he appeared to be and so much more than he sounded.

This man's appearance was what some might've considered frightening, only because of the dark clothing and narrowed expression of dislike he constantly adorned.

His black, long leather jacket was his favourite item of clothing; he was rarely seen without it. It was a misconception that he simply might've liked it, it made him look tough but it also had a hidden reason why he always liked it, not one actually visible: it was his prize from someone he'd killed.

It stayed close around his thin body, perhaps longer than it would have been on any other normal sized man as he was just shorter than average.

His white-blonde hair was slicked back tightly against his skull, his pale skin adding to the ghostly appearance it gave him.

Despite looking only in his thirties, the ghostly ambience that followed him was more plausible than expected, this man was actually dead.

The living dead to be exact.

This man was one of many who had been striking fear into the hearts of people for centuries. There had been books written, theories told and even doubts of their existence from non-believers.

How wrong they were.

This man was very real. Although man in appearance, he was a Vampire by the name of Spike, so called as he'd tortured people by driving railroad spikes through them.

Despite his terrifying appearance and name, Spike hadn't drunk blood from a human in a long time.

Although his past had been ridden with evil deeds that would condemn Spike to hell for eternity; his lifestyle had changed after meeting a young blonde American Slayer.

She'd turned his life upside down.

The engine of his little plane cranked and whirred, stirring Spike from his thoughts.

He didn't have much further he could go on this plane; he hoped it would make it the rest of the journey.

The black paint on the surrounding windows of his small plane threatened to peel in the heat and Spike pleaded silently that it wouldn't.

Few things could kill a Vampire, although direct sunlight was a constant and irremovable force.

Maybe he should've taken note of what conditions the plane was best in before stealing it.

It was late afternoon, and the day's heat was just beginning to die down as the sun did.

Spike's time of day was approaching.

Checking his fuel gage, he grumbled again, he was almost out of petrol, and didn't feel like having to waste anymore time stealing more.

Grumbling, it seemed had been all he'd done since leaving America only the previous day.

He didn't want to be surrounded by this huge pile of dust like sand, it reminded him too much of his own deadly fate, if he could help it.

Of course, when he'd told that to who'd sent him here; she was taking very little notice. Spike sighed as he remembered the argument, only days ago.

"Spike, I need you to go down there," she'd said, putting on her pleading voice that made him weak at the knees, yet he promised himself, this time he wasn't going to give in.

His infatuation with this woman had reached its lengths and as much as he loved her, he couldn't give in at any request from her.

They may have come from different sides of the good and evil spectrum and he may belong to her as she did him, but he was still his own person, he didn't want to loose every aspect of his 'bad' personality to subside with whatever whim she had.

"I am not going to the bloody other side of the world just to find some ditsy little trollop!" He'd protested, and besides, he didn't like the heat.

"Look!" she'd cried, tossing back her blonde hair and giving him an icy glare.

"We know that when the spell was cast, all the potential Slayers in the world became real life Slayers."

She continued to glare at him and for once Spike had kept quiet and let her continue. There had been something about the determination in her that made him grow quiet, she was so up for the challenge and nothing would be standing in her way.

She leant back against the wall and relaxed her shoulders, trying to seem reasonable.

The dim lighting in the room cast a long shadow of her petite body across the floor boards.

However small and delicate she looked concealed her real strength and abilities, making her all the more unpredictable.

"With a location spell we were able to find where all these potentials were, one of which being in Australia, and a strong one at that. We know that the Watcher's council has very limited Watchers and don't have enough for the Slayers in America alone!"

She sat down at a table as Spike stood testily in front of her.

"Look love," he started, but stopped as she'd given him a look. She didn't like pet names, although Spike had always used it for her and a few others he'd become to be affectionate with, a very English thing to do, being the country he'd come from 130 years ago.

"Look," he started again. "I'm a Vampire, to put it straight and simple. How do ya think this is gonna go? I'll march right up to her and say: 'You're a Vampire Slayer, destined to kill Vampires, and I'm a Vampire, but you can't kill me, you just have to trust me.' That's plain and simple stupid!"

She'd sighed and stood up from the table and Spike threw up his arms in frustration. This was getting awkward; there had really been no point in arguing, Spike knew she was going to get her way as usual.

"She has no Watcher, no one who'd understand her and probably doesn't even understand it herself yet. Help her Spike, please; I know you can show her how. She'll see the good in you just as I do."

Reluctantly he'd agreed (although muttering about it) and nearly gone straight away. The sooner he could jump start this girl to her senses and drag her to America to help in this raging battle, the sooner it'd all be over and he'd be out of this big pile of sand.