VII

"Hell Rider. No. Ghost Rider. No. Blaze of... Bugger."

Parked on the outskirts of town, Spike was struggling to find an original name for his bike while he finished his fag. The eighty mile trip to Santa Lucia was supposed to have taken an hour. He'd guessed he could do it forty minutes. He'd done it in thirty.

"We'll sort it out, baby." He stroked the bike. "If I keep you." Crushing his cigarette under his boot, he restarted the engine and drove into town under the speed limit.

As he cruised down Main Street, Spike was shaken by how old fashioned the town looked. "Bloody Sunnydale reborn." There wasn't much town to the place. The sign on the outskirts from L.A. had said 'Population 120,000' but it must've been mainly in suburban sprawl. It shouldn't take much effort to sniff out the demon bitch then, if she was set up in town.

Following the general direction of pedestrian activity, Spike ended up outside a club called 'The Basement'. He slowed the bike to a stop at the curb - just at the end of a line of kids waiting to get in. A sweet, curly-haired bird at the end of the line - barely eighteen he reckoned - was batting her eyelashes at him.

"Evening, ducks."

"Hi," she giggled.

"This the hot ticket in town, then?"

"If you're cool. Only trust-fund losers go to the Loft."

"I see. Well I haven't got a trust fund, love. Matter of fact..." Fuck it, he'd give it a go. "I was lookin' to make a bit of dosh while in town, and was wondering where the... uh... seedier part of town might be."

"Oh... Um... I don't know, Mister. Look, I don't want any trouble." The girl turned around toward the front of the line, looking everywhere but at him.

"Relax, love. I'm not lookin' to take you with me," he spoke to her back. "Like I said, just wondering where the low-lifes collect. The kind of blokes not good enough for a treasure like you."

She seemed to soften a little from the flattery, because she turned back around, though she wouldn't raise her eyes to him. "Um... Hillside I guess. It's got some pretty rundown parts. Gangs. Drugs. Abandoned houses and stuff. Low-lifes."

"Thanks, pet." Spike gave her a wink. Leaving his bike to walk to the front of the line, he approached the club's doorman - an overbuilt but well-dressed ponce who would no doubt pass for 'cool' in that town.

Spike approached the man and stared him down, head cocked to the side, his face a picture of menace.

The doorman shifted from one foot to the other, glancing up to meet Spike's eyes for only a second at a time, before looking away again.

"Uh, can I help you, sir?"

"Yeah, you can. Do I look like I'm used to waitin' at the back of a line of fuckin' teenagers?"

The door man swallowed, eyed the line of kids, and nodded. "Go on through."

"Not without my girls, mate." Spike pointed a thumb towards the end of the line.

"Yeah, alright."

Smirking, Spike walked back to the curly-haired girl. "Fancy skipping the queue, love?"

She looked at him like he was a rock star then.

"Can Sarah and Lesley come, too?"

Giving a nod in reply, Spike offered his arm to the curly-haired girl which she took shyly before waving to her friends to follow. As the group walked to the front of the club, Spike stared down every boy in line who showed his displeasure.

Once inside the club, he released the girl's arm. "Have fun, ladies."

"Hey, do you wanna maybe dance or something?" the girl asked, beginning to show a trace of confidence.

"Thanks, but I'm just here to have a look around. Think I'll head to Hillside like you suggested. Maybe you could point me in the right direction."

"Yeah, sure. Just stay on Main Street until Franklin, make a right on Franklin, and then... uh... I think it's about five minutes or so before you turn left on..."

"Sunset," the girl's friend added.

"Yeah, Sunset. That'll take you into the general area. The worse streets are River and Fuller."

"You're a peach, love." Spike turned to walk away.

"See ya!" the girl shouted at his back. "Hey, and thanks!" Giggling, the girl grabbed her friends and headed to the dance floor.

Spotting a free corner in the single-level club, Spike claimed it to get a good view of the crowd. He was only in town to find the demon, but he figured he might as well see if the vamps were in the club so that he could tail them. The crowd looked pretty innocent though - no one too pale, clearly on the prowl, or badly dressed in outdated clothes. Satisfied that the club was vamp-free, he left the place the way he'd come in.

"Cheers, mate," he called over his shoulder, as he passed the doorman on his way out. Back on his bike, Spike headed down Main Street for Franklin.


* * *

"Well, I guess the house catching fire counted as 'things looking dicey'."

Buffy was trying not to fault the girls for leaving her at the house, as she cut through Lakeview Cemetery on her way to the hospital. "They better have left the car at Memorial, though," she grumbled. She was walking at a leisurely pace through the cemetery's north side - her hair down, helmet on her right hip and bag over her left shoulder. There was no real rush now that the girls were out of danger.

She was feeling pretty pleased with herself for having gotten to the girls in time; and in frying the eggs, it was unlikely the penis lady would be kidnapping anyone else. Buffy still had to find her though, and the trail was now cold. With her demon hidden, she could be any old lady.

"Hmm... Maybe I should try the Meat Hut. They might all like fast food..."

"No. Stupid Buffy," she muttered. She grumpily kicked up a thick patch of grass.


* * *

Spike hadn't needed directions to the house in the end. Once he'd gone down Franklin looking for the next turn, he noticed a thick plume of black smoke in the sky to his left and heard a fire engine coming from some distance behind him. Eager to suss out the situation before the authorities got there, he sped up in the direction of the fire.

He found himself on River Street, outside the back of a red, dilapidated two-storey house. The stench from the place was overwhelming to his sensitive nose, and smelled decidedly un-human.

"Dude, that place reeks!"

Turning quickly to his left, Spike eyed a skinny, blond bloke with a pathetic attempt at dreadlocks, staring up at the burning house - his tattooed hand covering his face.

"Yeah it does. Any idea what happened here, mate?"

"Newsflash, dude. Someone torched the place! Hope none of the shorties were in there."

"Shorties?"

"Yeah. Somethin' weird's been goin' on over there the past couple of weeks, man. I've seen dudes taking their ladies in there for a little... You know," he chuckled, elbowing Spike in the side. "But I've never seen the shorties come out until tonight. Saw a bunch of 'em run out the back and drive off in a Mini. Sweet ride, too."

"Uh huh. See anyone else, then?"

"Nope."

"Right." Bugger. The local Slayer must've beaten him to the prize. No doubt the stench was the demon bitch getting barbecued. "Fuck."

On second thought, maybe the ride hadn't been a total waste. It was possible the vamps had delivered the girls and gotten paid before the Slayer had arrived. Wouldn't hurt to see if he could find them and fleece 'em. If he didn't, he could still head to Vegas. He had his own dosh, after all. It was just more fun losing another bloke's money.

"So how do I get to the other club in town, then, Shaggy? What's it called? The Loft?" Maybe the vamps were feeding there on their way out of town.

"The Loft? Dude, that's for trust-"

"-fund losers, I know. Just tell me how to get there, mate."

"Well, you could take Franklin to Main, then turn left on Market, but that's the long way. With the bike, it'd be quicker to cut through Lakeview straight to Market."

"Lakeview?"

"Cemetery. It's the big one in the center of town, dude. You can't miss it! That's what's behind all those trees lining the main roads in town. Sounds creepy, but it's not. There's a lake in the center, benches and stuff, and some sweet, hidden spots to uh... partake of nature's bounty, if you know what I'm sayin." Again with the elbow. One more time and Spike was gonna have to elbow him back.

"Right. Sounds like a plan, then. Cheers, mate."

"No worries. But hey, you sure you wouldn't rather head back to my place?"

Spike gave him a glare that could cut bone.

"Dude! Chill out! I just meant we could hang! I've got some stuff, is all. We could party, bro." Shaggy bared a bottom row of filmy, brown teeth, and an upper row of cheap gold.

Unconsciously, Spike swiped his bottom teeth with his tongue, as if the film had somehow settled on his own. "Tempting, but, no. Thanks anyway, mate."

He'd give Santa Lucia one thing: The folks here sure were helpful. Hearing the sirens rapidly approaching, Spike started his bike and sped off in the direction of Lakeview.


* * *

Buffy could never resist stopping by the lake when she patrolled the cemetery. Tonight was no different. The Mini wasn't going anywhere - assuming the girls had actually dropped it off at Memorial.

Skipping the benches, Buffy dropped her bag in the grass along the lake's edge and sat on her knees so she could run her fingers through the water. The wind had picked up and the lake was forming gentle ripples, splashing as the water met land. Sitting at the lake always saddened her, but it was a comforting sort of melancholy, if there was such a thing. The kind that made her feel human. Alive and vulnerable.

As her gaze travelled over the surface of the lake to its opposite end, a figure in black caught her eye amongst the headstones beyond. She would normally ignore the residents who came to visit the lake at night, but the figure was hovering near a crypt nowhere near the lake. Something wasn't right.

Sighing, she collected her bag and started walking towards the figure. Once she was past the lake entirely and had entered the east graveyard, the figure started moving away from her. He was headed towards the North Gate, the one she had entered from Hillside, but avoiding the lake, in a roundabout way. Quickening her pace, she widened her path to get a better view of his face and was startled when the face came into view.

It was a woman. An older woman in fact. Her hair was grey and cropped short, her face pinched. She was slim and dressed in slacks and a black trench coat, which she held tightly closed with gnarled hands.

She was moving furtively and she was walking towards Hillside.

Do the math Buffy. What's an older woman doing trolling the graveyard at night, hanging out at crypts and headed towards the bad side of town? One plus one plus one equals penis lady.

Jackpot.

Buffy couldn't believe her luck tonight. Slowing down to give the woman a false sense of security, she dug out her helmet and secured it one-handed. Slipping her hand back into her bag, she gripped the handle of the scythe but left it covered. She quickened her pace then, to catch up with her mark.

"Goin' home to your rotten little eggs, lumber-cry?"

The woman stopped abruptly but didn't turn around.

Buffy took that as a yes. Letting her bag fall from around her arm, she brought the scythe forward, holding it firmly in both hands. "Come on, Tootise. Let's see your penis!"


* * *

Cruising down Franklin Street, Spike found the North Gate entrance to Lakeview Cemetery with ease. He noticed the signs for the bike lane inside and reckoned that didn't apply to motorbikes. Not that he cared. He'd stick to the lane though, figuring that would keep him on the straightest path through and around the lake. He had to admit the place had a beauty about it that was spoiled a bit by the noise of his bike. Slowing down to a quieter speed, he'd barely penetrated the park when the wind carried a scent to his nose.

Spike stopped the bike.

Widening his nostrils, he inhaled deeply.

He stopped the engine.

Ten seconds passed.

He couldn't move. Refused to breathe.

Sod it. He couldn't last any longer and inhaled deeply again.

Time could fade a lot of things for a vampire, but never a scent.

Never hers.

As certain as his nose seemed to be that it was her, his brain refused to believe that it could be. Not here. Not now.

It just couldn't be.

What the hell did he do now? He really didn't know.

His body had other ideas.

He wasn't even aware of getting off his bike. Like a ship with shredded sail, he let himself be pulled by the wind that carried her scent, back to its source. He couldn't stop breathing her in now. The further he walked, the more she filled his head, until every other sense was dulled to nothing. His eyes began to water, and it became impossible to swallow the growing lump in his throat.

Barely aware of himself, Spike found himself at the beginning of the eastern graveyard.

"Oh god."

She was old. He knew she would be, of course. But seeing her. Watery eyes may have blurred his vision, but his nose never lied. It was her. Silver haired. Forlorn. Clutching her oversized coat across her chest to ward off the winds...

"Oh god, no."

Someone was behind her.

A figure in leather. Some biker chick with an axe. What the bleeding hell?

The only thing more devastating than seeing her again, was seeing what would happen if he didn't run.

Spike ran like a hound from Hell.

With a speed he didn't know he had, he was flying - barely touching the ground in long leaps to save his girl.

He didn't care where the axe landed when he dove to tackle the biker bitch.

"Oof!" he heard the bitch say, as they collided, sending them both on their backs.

"Run!" he yelled to his girl, lifting his head off the ground. God, he hoped she could still run like a Slayer.

She started to flee towards the North Gate, and he was relieved to see her able to get to a decent speed. Still on his back, he felt himself quickly for injuries - surprised to find that the axe had missed him.

"What the hell?"

Wait. That voice...

Spike whipped his head to the left towards his girl's attacker. She was barely five feet away. Her helmet had flown off in the tackle, and she was sitting up, straight-legged, a curtain of gold hanging over her face, down to her waist. Pulling her hair behind her ear, she looked over to him.

And hazel eyes met blue.

*  *  *

Author's note: Reviews are gold. Make me rich.