DEDICATION: To Warren Zevon who is terminally ill. I think he is very much the sort of songwriter Spike would be in to. I can imagine just how many things Spike could think of to do in Denver. He is probably good friends with the Headless Thompson Gunner and the Werewolves of London, and is definitely and Excitable Boy.
The road climbed steadily into the hills that surrounded the San Quentin plain. Every now and then, they would have to slow for the mountains of concrete that served as speed humps or for dry riverbeds. Spike said nothing the whole way. He didn’t know whether he was jealous. He wanted badly to believe it was just the curse and nothing else, tying knots in his gut and making his head ache. There were too many implications in it being anything more.
He gripped onto his temper as tightly as he held the handlebars of the bike. So Xander flirted with the farmer’s daughter, “For fuck’s sake Spike,” He thought to himself, “He’s a young man who wouldn’t have dreamed of touching you if Halfrek hadn’t said ‘done’, so where’s your problem?” But no amount of rationalisation could shake the feelings of envy within him.
Xander stared at Spike’s leather clad back and wondered what was going through the vampire’s mind. The looks he’d been getting weren’t exactly of the friendly variety. They made him want to throw himself to the dust at Spike’s feet and plead. If only he could think past the curse but it was impossible, so he sat in silence while all around the cicadas laughed at him.
The road narrowed and they descended onto the coastal plain and the tiny strung out towns of the Valle de San Quentin. They saw only two other vehicles the whole way. The last cruised slowly past as Spike pulled up outside a hotel and climbed off the bike. Xander caught the driver’s eye but the guy just looked shifty and turned away.
The hotel building stood at the end of a block with a bar next door. It was a low square, two storey building with wooden cladding and peeling paintwork. They checked in and dumped their stuff. Xander changed while Spike headed for the shower without a word. Xander waited for a moment or two and then followed him.
“So are you ever going to quit with the silent treatment or is it sign language classes for me?” His only answer was the sound of water hitting the shower floor.
Xander pulled the curtain aside and did his best pissed glare only to be met by cold blue eyes.
“Good was she? Go down behind the barn for you?” It was nasty Spike knew and totally untrue but his temper had finally got the better of him.
“Now hang on! Wait right there! That was crass. You can’t be jealous.”
“I can’t?! I have no soul, I’m under a love curse and the moment the sun’s up my lover is playing hide the sausage with the first brown eyed maid that flutters her lashes at him. Oh yeah, can’t possibly be jealous!” And he turned from Xander to soap his front.
Xander was so mad that he never even noticed he was still fully clothed. Any guilt he had been feeling over Jaquinta evaporated and he grabbed Spike by the shoulder, whirling him round. He could still see the marks from the bullets but not even that was going to stop this rage. He shook the vampire hard, “I didn’t touch her! How dare you?”
“Something got ‘Ol’ Pedro’ riled.”
“A vamp in the house perhaps? Hello, not exactly welcome in remote farmhouses everywhere - where no one can hear you scream.”
Water ran back along his arms, soaking his shirtsleeves and dripping onto the brown speckled linoleum. Spike’s words reminded him of being seventeen again. Suddenly he was standing in Sunnydale High library with Giles berating him for being the fool he was: “People under a love spell are deadly, Xander. They lose all capacity for reason.”
Asking Spike to see how silly his jealously was was like trying to stop the entire female population of Sunnydale from chasing Xander through Buffy’s house back then. So not gonna happen. He gave up and tried something else.
He stepped into the shower, “I. Love. You.” He said pressing his sodden clothed body against Spike’s naked one.
“And if we weren’t cursed?” Spike was half dreading the answer.
“But we are and to use one of your wonderful ancient English sayings, if ifs and ands were pots and pans…”
“…There’d be no work for tinkers.” Spike finished for him. He smiled. “You’re all wet.” He said, “And lickable.” And he ran his tongue from Xander’s collarbone to his neck just to make his point.
Xander sighed and arched his back as Spike slid an arm round to hold him tightly. He groaned when the vampire rolled up the sopping tee shirt and pressed hard kisses over his chest and stomach.
Spike drew a nipple into his mouth. It was already taut from the water. He bit it none too gently only to be rewarded with another delicious moan. He removed the tee shirt altogether and slipped it around Xander’s waist, pulling the young man towards him with it. He laughed low and wriggled his eyebrows.
Dropping to his knees, he let the tee shirt go and began to wrestle with the button of Xander’s fly. Wet denim was a bitch but finally he managed to get it open and pulled down the zip with his teeth.
Xander wove his fingers into Spike’s wet curls and pulled. His reward was to have the vampire bury his head into his crotch, rubbing his face against Xander’s straining erection still covered by his underwear.
The young man manipulated Spike’s movements with his hair, pulling this way and that. He understood his lover so well and knew could be as rough as he liked. Spike liked it rough.
Soon the vampire was sucking at his dick through the drenched fabric. It felt good but Xander needed more, he tugged Spike’s head away and removed the rest of his wet clothing. He motioned his lover to turn round. Spike did as he was asked, water streaming down his back, as Xander returned the tongue bath.
Kneeling on the shower floor, Xander licked up the back of Spike’s legs, parting his buttocks as he reached the top. Spike, already bracing himself against the tiles, leant his head on his arms with a soft, “Oh fuck.”
“Be careful what you wish for,” said Xander.
“Now he remembers!?” Asked Spike to no one in particular. He was rewarded for his sarcasm with no less than two fingers that penetrated him deeply and made him gasp.
Xander watched his fingers slide in and out of Spike’s grasping hole for a moment before, dipping his head and using his tongue on every area, he could reach. He lapped at Spike’s balls and that secret space between them and his hand, the one that made his lover arch and press.
Spike rode on his lover’s fist. It felt so good but he wanted more. He wanted this hot young man to bury his cock into his flesh and screw him into oblivion. He wanted to forget the row and the curse and just be in the moment as Dru might have said.
“Fuck me!” He sobbed, “Please, just fuck me.”
Removing his hand, Xander went for the shower gel, hanging on a hook on the wall. He quickly slicked his cock and, positioning himself behind Spike, pushed in to the hilt.
Spike pushed back against the wall and for a split second lost his footing on the shower floor, but Xander had him about the waist, cradling him to stop him from falling. Xander never broke his stroke, never lost his rhythm. It was as if this was what he had been made to do.
He drove the head of his cock against Spike’s insides until the vampire thought he might climb into his skin with him. He couldn’t see, couldn’t speak, except to make insensible, guttural sobs, the bathroom and shower shrank away as Xander hit his prostate again and again.
At last, Xander could take it no more; with one last cry, he went tumbling over the edge towards orgasm, almost lifting Spike as he shot. “Oh Goddddddd.” Came out in one long grunt and then it was done. He pulled out and turned the vampire round in his arms.
Spike closed his eyes and rested his head on his lover’s shoulder. He hadn’t come but the night was still young and they had all of the following day besides. For now, it was enough just to be held, even if the water was stone cold.
They spent all day kissing and touching in between bouts of sleep. Sometimes it became sexual, sometimes just playful and caring. Spike managed to feed from Xander twice, enough to stave off the worst of the craving and by dusk, they were ready to hit the town.
The town however, it seemed wasn’t ready for them. One street big, it consisted of several bars, some farmhouses, a garage and the hotel, all strung together with telegraph poles and overhead wiring. Neon signs flickered and a radio crackled. Spike hummed as they crossed the street to the only place that looked as if it served more than Tecate beer.
“What’s that?” Asked Xander.
“I hear Mariachi static on my radio. The tubes they glow in the dark. And I’m there with her in Ensenada…” Spike sang. “Carmelita – Warren Zevon. Bloody ‘ell do you need educating, China?”
Xander just pulled a face.
The restaurant was really no more than a bar with round wooden tables and chairs. It had a vaguely sea theme with fishing nets and lifesavers on the walls. It was very dark. They sat down so that Spike had his back to the window and the street. His hair took on the blues and reds of the neon lights. They ordered chicken wings, fries and two Buds.
“We do not serve Bud, Senor.” Said the waiter.
“There’s a sign in the window that would argue with you.” Grumbled Xander pointing over Spike’s head.
“It belongs to my brother.” Said the waiter as if that explained everything. They ordered two Tecates instead.
“It’s all like making love in a boat, anyway.” Said Spike, “Now Dog Bolter there’s a beer.”
Xander looked at him, his eyes wide, “Warm, flat, brown English beer is so NOT on the curriculum for my education.” He said.
Spike laughed and for a while, it was comfortable but as the evening wore on Xander became increasingly unnerved by the cosiness of it all. At times like this, he couldn’t even feel the curse, “Just an normal couple.” He thought. But they weren’t even close to that. “How can I love him? How can I let him touch me when I know what he is?”
Spike picked up on the change in mood, “Are you all right?” He asked.
“I was just thinking about after. When we get the money, I mean. Home? Not so appealing. Maybe we could just take off. See the world. Come on vamp boy, educate me.”
“Spend one night in a foreign country and you want to see the world? You know someone once said that running away from your problems is not the same as escaping them. What do you want to run from, Xander?”
“I just want it to be like this. You and me. The others are really big with the not understanding. They think it’s just the curse.”
“Maybe it is.” Said Spike gently, his voice low and rumbling.
“And what if it is? How long before someone works out a way of breaking it? You want to go back to the Buffy stalk fest? What if she rejected you - oh lets say - again? Don’t tell me you’re above rape.”
“If you think so little of me why would you want this to continue?” He reached out and ran his hand along Xander’s jaw and down the side of his neck. He pulled open the neck of the young man’s shirt to reveal both old and new bite marks. “I can feed from you,” He whispered, “So long as you’re fully aroused, without so much as a twitter out of the chip. What if one night I just didn’t stop, drank you dry.”
“Then I’d be dead and we’d both be free. Or I’d be dead and you’d be alone, not quite sure on the death do us part bit. Look, three weeks ago I’m sixty foot up in the air being nailed on a crane platform and telling my nailer, I trusted him. And I do but I know what you are, Spike.”
“And what am I?” Said Spike, sitting back in his chair.
This time it was Xander’s turn to lean forward, “A vampire.” He said.
Spike’s blue eyes twinkled and the street behind him seemed to dance with an orange glow, “Hey,” Said Xander breaking the tension with that simple exclamation, “Was the hotel on fire before? Cos it’s the sort of thing you notice!”
“SHIT! The packet!” Spike jumped up and made for the door.
“Wasn’t it in your coat pocket?”
The vampire spun round to glare at him, “And am I wearing my coat? FUCK IT!!” And he kicked the trashcan outside with such force that it sailed into the air, landing with a crash, in the dust.
Chapter 5
People tipped out of every building, shouting loudly in Spanish and waving furiously. Forming a line, they passed buckets to the fire hydrant and back but it was hopeless. The best they could do was douse the other buildings and pull down the bar next door to form a firebreak. Spike and Xander joined the line and passed buckets until Xander’s eyes smarted and throat stung with the smoke.
It took two hours to put the fire out. Other barmen gave round beer to all the helpers and comforted the hotelier and his wife, who sat sobbing on the opposite curb.
As soon as it seemed safe, Spike and Xander slipped inside the burnt out shell. Timbers creaked and smoked, and black water dripped from the bubbled paint on the ceiling. It wasn’t hard to find the remains of their room. It had clearly been the seat of the fire. It had also been thoroughly ransacked. Whoever had set the blaze had taken the packet.
Spike’s beloved leather duster was a charred mess. There was nothing here to salvage and nothing more they could do, other than to get on the bike and leave.
A dry riverbed in the Catavina boulder field was hardly the place for an argument, Xander decided. Spike sat, leant against the bike, looking exasperated. However, he at least had clothes that fitted. Xander gazed jealously at the blue jeans and dark tee shirt, ignoring the soot and the desert dust. He was still in the short, now filthy, white tee, together with his biking pants and boots.
He paced the dry dusty curb, furiously, “Doesn’t it ever rain here?” He thought. A far off rumble seemed to give him his reply. Xander just wanted to go home, or away, or anywhere that wasn’t here. This ill-fated trip was fast becoming a nightmare.
“So what do we say?” He barked, abruptly, “Sorry no vacation, have a Blankity Blank cheque book and pen and thanks for playing?”
“If we don’t arrive they’ll think we stole the packet and they will hunt us down and kill us.” Spike began lighting a cigarette; he was still mourning the loss of his coat.
“And if we do arrive they’ll think we stole the packet and they won’t need to hunt us down - cos hey - standing right here!”
“Well it would solve the death do us part bit,” said Spike low and soft. He took a long toke on his cigarette and tossed the rest to the wind. It flared briefly as it landed and then went out. There had to be some symbolism in there somewhere but he was fucked if he knew what.
“Look,” he said, “can’t go back. It’s a good two hundred miles to the border, which I could do in a few hours except we ain’t got enough petrol and when we get there the crossing will be closed and you’re so big with the law abiding bit. There isn’t a non-burnt out hotel for a hundred miles in any direction. Give me an option, I’ll take it.”
Xander put his head in his hands and breathed deeply. He was out of options. He just wanted things to be normal but he’d effectively made his choice the night he’d made his wish. His life had never been normal, his lovers had never been normal and he was a child of the Hellmouth. What did he know from normal?
He threw up his hands in resignation, “Okay, okay let’s just get out of this desert. The sky’s all rumbly and the last thing we want is a flash flood to sweep us away. Cos I’m guessing flash floods not quite so flashy when you’re drowning.”
They remounted the bike. They’d lost the map in the fire but Spike had a good idea how far it was to the turn off, marked by two Boojum trees growing tall and straight by the side of the road.
The bike bumped over the dirt track that seemed to lead nowhere. However, just as Xander was about to say they were in the wrong place, a white painted ranch house loomed out of the dark. It was gone midnight but they could see lights and hear muffled voices.
Dismounting and painfully aware of his dishevelled appearance, Xander followed Spike up to the porch.
Without warning, Spike grabbed him and pulled him back into the dark beyond the lights of the house. There was urgency in the action, “Listen,” he said, keeping his voice low. “These people are dangerous. From what I can tell, they’re all human but they’ve killed someone in there tonight. Can smell blood and a lot of it,” he licked his lips, an involuntary response but it brought the point home.
“Just follow my lead,” he continued, “and remember whatever the cause, I love you.” His fingers caressed Xander’s jaw and Xander nodded, his mouth dry.
They rang the bell and were greeted by a huge man who could only be a bodyguard, Spike decided. After all, with a physique like that what other employment options did he have? They were led down a well-lit passageway by a butler, and into a wooden panelled room. Mirrors spaced at intervals along the walls made it all too obvious what Spike was and he felt dangerously over exposed. The smell of blood was overpowering and he was instantly hungry.
A tall gentleman entered and offered his hand, “Vernon Austin, how do you do? I trust you both had a safe trip.” He smiled amiably but there was menace beneath his words. They felt sure he knew just how unpleasant their trip had been. He ran a hand down the seam of expensive looking trousers with an economy of movement to match the cut. One plain gold ring on his finger sparkled under the chandeliers.
Xander glanced casually about. Beneath each mirror, he noticed low glass-topped cases, like those found in museums or jewellers. He peered into one of them. Various semiprecious stones in yellows and oranges twinkled back at him.
“You like my collection?” Said Austin in the same amiable tone he’d greeted them in. He beckoned Spike over to another case, “They’re not rare. They are one of a kind pieces,” he indicated with a sweep of his arm, “Little baubles,” he said “Something to amuse me on nights like tonight.” There was a definite change in his tone on the last four words. It was anything but amiable.
Spike wondered what the hell that meant. There was tightness about Vernon Austin’s thin lips and a mean look in his eye. He didn’t take pride in his stones; they were as he said, mere baubles. It was the having them, Spike surmised, that gave him pleasure, knowing he possessed something and thus depriving others of it. Not one of the stones, so carefully grouped by colour and size, were mounted, strung or otherwise set. Either Mrs Austin had no jewellery or there was no Mrs Austin. Personally, Spike went for the latter.
Austin stepped away from the case, “Jose, would you like to show our guests some hospitality. They must be parched, after their long desert drive.”
The butler opened a set of heavy doors at the end of the room and folded them back to reveal a huge dining room with a long polished table. Xander counted three more ‘bodyguards’ they’re gun holsters clearly visible. There was no cloth on the table and the surface was splashed by something dark. A drop landed every now and again. Xander’s eyes followed the drips upwards to their source and froze. His chest clenched tight and he found it hard to breathe. “I will not faint. I will not faint.” He repeated under his breath. Nevertheless, the room swayed ever so slightly.
Hanging above the table, suspended by a heavy rope, looped over the oak beams, was a body. It swung like some bizarre piñata, turning every now and again to reveal the dead staring eyes of Miguel Ramirez.
Austin’s butler offered Spike a glass. The thick, dark liquid inside could only be blood, Miguel’s blood. Miguel, who had been so affronted by a vampire in his house, was now its unchosen victim. “And where’s his daughter?” Spike thought.
All of a sudden, without knowing why, he was angry, “What is the meaning of this?” Spike’s outburst made Xander jump.
“You thought you would fool me. Well hear this, Vernon Austin is no one’s fool. Not his with his righteous claims and noble ideals,” he indicated the swinging corpse, “and not yours. I’ve had you followed since the border and clearly I wasn’t the only one.”
Xander remembered an engine out in the desert dust and the car driver that passed them in San Quentin. Not to mention the biker gunmen. They hadn’t been random, they’d asked for the packet! He mentally kicked himself. ‘We’re being followed,’ Spike had said. How could they have been so naive?
“You have lost what is rightfully mine,” Austin continued, “and haven’t the decency to tell me. No, I find out from my enemies, when they phone to gloat over their victory courtesy of your carelessness.”
Spike didn’t hesitate to reveal his demon. His brow ridges rose, his fangs descended and he roared at the irate businessman. It was the sound of a predator ready to pounce and was answered by a terrified scream from behind.
Xander turned to see a petrified Jaquinta, eyes wide and staring, being escorted by two goons. He didn’t care what sort of impression he gave Austin and his men, or his lover for that matter, he strode over to her and she slumped against his chest, hers heaving with uncontrollable sobs.
Sighing inside, Spike thought rapidly how he could make the best of this horrendous situation. It seemed hopeless. Xander had given away their last hand by showing the thugs he cared about the girl. Now she would be used against them. “FUCK IT!” He swore internally.
Austin confirmed the vampire’s internal fears by saying, “Now you will help me get back my goods.”
Spike turned back to him, “And why the hell should I do that?”
The businessman merely inclined his head towards the tableau by the door. “Come,” he said, “we can be reasonable. I know who has the package and where. All you have to do is your original job. Collect the parcel and deliver it to me. I will even give you one week to do it in.”
“And just where bloody ‘ell is it?”
“Venezuela,”
“A week! All the way to Venezuela and back in a fucking week! You’re ‘aving a laugh in’cher!” Spike’s yellow eyes crackled in fury.
“I do not laugh about this matter.” Snapped Austin slapping his hands into the blood on the table, “The Tears of Kuma are not a joke. Bring them to me in one week or this will be her fate also.” And he held up his blooded palms.
Back beside the door, Xander cradled Jaquinta, turning her slightly so that his body blocked her view of her executed father. “I’m so sorry.” He whispered.
She looked up into his eyes, hers thick and red rimmed, “Austin has been looking for an excuse,” she said shaking her head slowly. “It is he who wants our land and our silver mine. I told you he was a ruthless man. Please Xander, do not get involved.”
He
looked over her shoulder towards Spike and Austin just in time to see Austin’s
final gesture. Spike caught his eye and
they both knew they had no choice.
Neither of them could fight their way through Austin’s goons, certainly
not without being shot and then who would be there for Jaquinta? No, they were very much involved and on the
way to Venezuela without a doubt.
The flight on Austin’s private jet to Cuidad Bolivar was made in stony silence, and all the more grim in the knowledge that they were flying east, towards the dawn. It was difficult to hold any form of conversation anyway with his goons watching over them. They were deposited in a cheap motel, with instructions, a few names and left alone.
Xander and Spike sat opposite each other on single beds. Spike picked at his nails while Xander stared at his shoes, fingertips pressed together against his forehead. He was the first to speak, “How do I get into messes like these?” He asked without looking up.
“Just lucky I guess. It could be worse.”
“How! Just how could it be worse?”
“Could be daylight,” answered the vampire, glancing at the thin curtains. “Could be dead, well you could be dead and I could be deader.”
“Is that even a word?” Xander raised his head slowly, meeting the vampire’s eye, “So what do we do?”
Spike stood and searched in his jeans for his cigarettes and lighter. When he came up empty, he threw himself backwards onto the bed, and stared at the peeling and cracked ceiling. “Anything they want us to, China. Anything they want. That is if you want to see ‘er alive come the end of the week.”
Xander reclined on the other bed, “What’s going to stop them from killing her now?” His voice was flat.
“Nothing, leastways if it were me, nothing. But that’s the point, Shithead. I’d’ve killed her as soon as we were on the plane, probably out of boredom, but then I’m a vampire, he’s a businessman. Likes to think he plays fair and wants the rest of the world to think so too. He’ll wait until we fuck up, then he’ll have the right to kill her and it’ll be our fault.”
Now would have been the time to tell Spike about the mine and Austin’s interest in it, but he didn’t. Xander couldn’t see any way in which Austin was going to let Jaquinta live. Their inadvertent arrival at the Ramirez’ farm had given the businessman the excuse to dispose of both father and daughter. Xander was sure when they left that her stricken face was the last he’d see of her, so much for being one of the white hats.
The vampire regarded his lover’s pained face and assumed it was something he’d said, “Oh don’t worry, Sweetmeat, you’re inner white knight is bound to save the day.” Xander looked relieved by the comment and Spike rolled his eyes to heaven at the naivety of the human. Love him? Yes, bound to, cursed to…but understand him…never.
Spike slept the day through, but Xander could only toss and turn. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw Miguel’s hanging body. As it swung round however, it would reveal Jaquinta’s face, bloody and raw. Had their fates not affected Spike at all? The curse may be for a lifetime, but he was sure it would take him longer than that to work out how his vampire honey could love without compassion.
It would not have relieved him to know that Spike’s dreams were no less graphic. The vampire saw himself on top of Buffy, pounding into her small frame. A railway spike appeared in his hand and at the critical moment, he drove it into her only to have her fade away and replaced by Anya. The sequence repeated itself. This time Xander appeared under him, his large muscles and heavy frame contrasting sharply with the two slight girls. But as climax was reached for the third time Xander produced a stake. They destroyed each other. In Spike’s dream he saw his own dust clinging to the blood and sweat on his lover’s body. He woke up with a jolt.
“Help me with this thing,” said Xander, trying for the fifth time to knot the bow tie. The tuxedos had been delivered along with a new set of instructions. They were to go to the jungle retreat of one Dew Rydell, diamond dealer and the man who, according to Vernon Austin, had the two blue diamonds known as The Tears of Kuma. They were to attend an evening soirée and retrieve the stones.
“Sit ‘ere,” Spike indicated the edge of the bed he was kneeling on. He stretched around Xander’s neck to fix the tie.
“I don’t know why it isn’t clip ons. Clip ons are of the good. Willow had to do the honors with my prom tie and that led to all sorts of no-nos.”
“Clip ons are not of the good. Clip ons look just like that – clip ons,” said Spike, “supposed to be top diamond merchants not small town Californian surf spray.”
“Surf spray! Oh yeah and just how you gonna hide your not so inner London oik?” Asked Xander, twisting slightly so that he could catch Spike’s eye.
The vampire thumped him between the shoulder blades to keep him still, “Elementary my dear Harris,” he answered in the most cultured of English tones. He even managed the ‘h’ at the front of Xander’s surname. “One simply has to remember that one’s schooling wasn’t a complete disaster.”
It sounded so incongruous it made Xander laugh. His Adam’s apple jiggled, resulting in another friendly nudge in his back.
“ ‘Old still or I ain’t never goin’ to get this bloody thing done!” Said Spike, back to his old self.
Their invitations were in the papers provided by Austin’s men. A party for diamond merchants from around the world and Rydell certainly believed in displaying his wares. Spike and Xander were announced and swept up a magnificent staircase into the Grand Ballroom. They could see cases of cut and uncut stones set in a circle, surrounding a centrepiece in the shape of a weeping woman. There were two huge, teardrop shaped diamonds set into the statue. One on her cheek and one on her breast, and they were the richest shade of blue. The light danced off their facets like sunrays on water.
Spike pulled Xander to one side, “Well guarded and by vamps!”
“You sure? Okay stupidest question and at the risk of topping it, what are we going to do?”
The wiggling of Spike’s eyebrows was not the answer Xander was looking for. Trying not to think of the many things Spike might do to retrieve the diamonds, Xander wandered off towards the buffet and the punch bowl.
He took in the rest of the room. It was no less ostentatious than the central display. He could see why the mine owner and dealer used vamps as hired muscle, with all those shinys, although any determined thief only had to find his own demonic army.
Xander couldn’t help the feeling that he was being watched. Paranoia much! He scanned around expecting Spike, but the vampire couldn’t be seen in the packed room. Nevertheless, the hair on the back of his neck rose and he felt a tingle between his shoulder blades.
He was aware of someone familiar close to him. Spike! “Messing, not exactly appropriate!” He snapped, looking round and straight into the eyes of - Riley Finn. He looked uncomfortable in eveningwear and, although the soldier was too well trained to show it, Xander knew Riley wouldn’t be alone.
“What are you doing here?” They asked in unison.
“You’ve got to get out now!” Riley continued, his voice a course whisper, “I don’t know why you’re here Xander, but it’s not safe.”
“You mean because of the vamps?”
“How do you know about those?”
“Well Spike said…” Oops. Xander realised too late that he’d opened his big mouth just a little too wide again.
“Is that fool here too? Has Buffy taken leave of her senses? Sending a civilian and an idiot to do her job?” He was clearly angry; “it’s lucky this is our matter. Things are about to happen. Get that…him and get out. Now!”
“Now just hold on there,” said Xander, and then looking puzzled, “which one of us is which?”
They had no further time to debate. All of a sudden, they were plunged into darkness and hell broke loose in the room. There was screaming, yelling and Riley grabbed Xander by the elbow, unceremoniously shoving him under the buffet table. There were sounds of tazer fire and that was the last Xander knew, before his eyes and throat were being scoured by tear gas. He choked and spluttered, rubbing at his streaming eyes. “These guys sure know how to gate crash a party.” He thought sardonically.
Spike had been trying to ingratiate himself with the vampire guards but they were slow, terminally stupid, fledge minions, of the lowest order. He doubted there was even a master to the nest. He noted that for future reference. Just in case this thing with Xander wasn’t permanent, although the faintly sick feeling in the pit of his stomach at the thought told him it probably was.
He glanced about, trying to think of a way of shorting the lights when someone saved him the bother. Tear gas didn’t worry him. It was a moronic thing to use on a vamp, but it brought the humans in the room down very effectively. It was all he could do to stop himself from running to Xander’s aid. The quicker he got to the stones, the quicker he could attend to his lover. The tazer fire was the biggest motivator. He moved like greased lightening, leaping the display cabinets to grab at the statue.
He felt another hand and snarled. He bent the fingers cruelly back until he heard a satisfying snap. It had to be a vamp, not a peep out of the chip. He wasn’t so lucky with the next one, he screamed and fought through the pain to finally reach the stones.
Wrenching them off the statue, he barged past another vamp, bowling him onto a heap of struggling humans. Oddly, the vampire screamed as though it had a chip in its skull. Spike didn’t have time to worry about this. He fled the room.
Xander heard Spike above the weeping and wailing. At least he thought it was Spike. Yes, it had to be, that was the sound of a brain fry, “Only one chipped vamp in here, surf spray!” He thought derisively.
Next thing the lights were back on and Riley and his black op buddies were gone. Staff helped frightened guests to their feet and out through the emergency exits at the far end of the hall.
Xander was never going to reach there. He scanned around, desperately looking for Spike’s distinctive blond head. A few vamps milled around, looking surprisingly as dazed as the humans. There were a lot less of them than there had been and he couldn’t see Spike anywhere. He slid from under the table, his eyes and lungs still sore from the gas. Standing with his hands on his knees, he tried unsuccessfully, to draw breath.
“There he is!” Came a shout from further down the room, “He was with the vampire that has The Tears.”
Xander turned and fled, out of the hall, down the grand staircase and slid the length of the marble flagged entrance hall. He banged and hammered his fists against the mahogany doors but they were locked. He turned and ploughed straight into the arms of three waiting vampires. He kicked and struggled but it was no use. A blow to the head and all was dark.
Spike, who had slipped out and into the nearest bathroom, to secrete the stones, peered through a crack in the door just in time to see his lover being dragged away.