Chapter Four
----====Spike====----
Bugger. Why me? Ok, don't answer that, I know why.
I did a fast spin kick on Door Guy, and stomped on his wrists when he went down, which would certainly stop him shutting any more doors. I would have kicked in the nose, but right then Tall Git coughed and said,
"If you do not co-operate, I will be forced to shoot your friend. So be a good vampire and hand over the disc, and we'll let you go. He stays."
Bugger, again.
Yeah, like they'd really would have let me go. No reason for the lawyers to let me walk out of here, since Wesley hadn't dropped the soul bombshell on the tart yet, and as far as I knew only me, him, and ol' Lurky knew about it. I hadn't actually bought ad space in the LA Times. There were stakes lying on the desk, but nobody had reached for them, even after I crunched Door Guy's wrists - which wasn't exactly all Three Musketeers of them. Then again, if they staked me the disc would go with me to the great dustbuster in the sky. There are some things a soul doesn't change, and the dust factor could be used to save both our skins.
Time to play games with the bad guys.
"And why would an evil, soulless thing like me give a damn whether you shoot the Watcher reject or not? I've got the disc. You can't stake me; you'd lose it. You're the ones that want him all intact and massive frontal lobes, an' all. Shoot him and, oh yes, you lose."
It was hard, but I forced a massive smirk onto my face, and lit a cigarette for that extra added 'evil' emphasis. Gotta work with the clichés you know. 'I smoke, therefore, I will let you shoot him' - it was all bollocks of course, but it worked.
Both Wesley and the Morgan bird got off on it too. The aroma of fear came off them, but was so much weaker than the arousal. The pheromones almost dripped off them. They already reeked of each other. She wore perfume strong enough to cover a midden heap, but it still didn't mask how he must have soaked into her skin. Wesley was just as bad. They must have been shagging each other something rotten to have oozed into each other's skin to that extent.
"I'm sure the Senior Partners wouldn't be happy if Mr Wyndam-Pryce was splattered all over my office. We want him intact," she said, with a waver in her voice only detectable to vamp ears.
"Why Lilah, you care." snarked Wesley, with a nasty little smile.
"Oh I don't. I just don't like the smell of the carpet cleanser they use to remove the blood." Lilah said.
The two remaining cold-cure victims looked at each other. Before they could come up with a way out, I continued. "Now be good boys and girls; we're all going to be friends." I turned on the charm. It was bloody hard to play-act the old me, but I did it. I had to; there wasn't a choice. I had to get the Watcher out of there, and to do it I had to use all of me.
Normally what I'd have done would be to stalk up to Lilah and stroke her cheek - then threaten to break her neck if I didn't get what I wanted. Too risky here. If they knew I was a vampire, there was too high a risk they knew exactly who I was, and that I was chipped and unable to follow through on that one - even if I'd been able to feign it with the soul. I still needed to get to the tall git with the gun. Since he smelt like the Latino in the Hyperion, I reckoned I could take him out.
So I stalked round to where he stood with Lilah and said to her, "Tell your big friend here to put the gun down." I tilted my head, ran my finger down her neck, and added, "You know it makes sense."
As her respiration rate shot up, and Wesley made a small growl, I moved into top vamp speed. I pushed the gun arm up with my right hand and punched through the nose of Tall Git with my left. Bingo. I felt his nose cave in, and I broke his fingers getting the gun. I spun with it still in my hands and threw it to Wesley.
Wesley caught it sharply, made a cold laugh, and covered Lilah with the gun. He said, "You really don't want to move." She snorted, but stayed still.
Palm Pilot Woman made her bid, but she was clearly a pen pusher not muscle. I threw one good punch and hit bullseye. I grabbed her Palm before she joined Tall Git in making a mess on Lilah's carpet. I said, "Time to go, Wesley."
He smirked at Lilah, and said, "Sorry about the carpet, it looks like they'll need lots of cleanser on that blue excretion. It should make for an interesting combination of aromas. Enjoy." Her grimace over the gunk that had already soaked into the carpet was a picture. Wesley's nose was wrinkled against the smell - I think. It might have been Lilah.
I kicked in the nose of Door Guy as we shot out past him, no point in not getting the full set. We ran down the stairs. I could smell the adrenaline and endorphins from Wesley. The smile creeping onto his face confirmed it. The Junior Watcher was having fun.
I stowed the Palm in my jacket pocket. I tossed the valet parking blokes in the car park a dime each, as I had to leave a tip - even if they were working for evil. Then we took off on the bikes back to Wesley's flat.
***
We took the scenic route to make sure we weren't being followed. It was good just to ride with someone - in silence, but with someone.
We got back to the flat and I slumped on the sofa. Wesley, believe it or not, went into the kitchen to brew some tea. Stereotype much? - as the girls would say. That of course set me back for a bit. I got stuck in a sea of images, blood, and screams until he came back with a nice hot cuppa, and put it by my hands. I didn't remember picking it up, but I must have, because the burning sensation in my fingers brought me back to reality. Guess all the drama of the evening must have caught up with me.
The drama wasn't over yet.
I took one sip, but couldn't face the rest. So I put it on table, and said to Wesley, "Seem to have got ourselves into a bit of bother, old son."
"Quite," he said.
"Now I've been around for a bit, seen some things, know some stuff, but I've never seen that before. What the hell are those things?"
"I haven't got a clue. Interesting though."
"You're the Watcher. It's your job to know these things!" Well, it is. Watchers know stuff and wear tweed. Occasionally they play guitars and surprise you, but mainly they know things. Vampires drink blood, even if I had a few problems with that at the moment, but Watchers are walking demonic encyclopaedias.
"I was fired."
Oops. I got a soul, not tact. I saw him draw himself back in and freeze me out again.
I said, "Look, sorry. Never been too good at the old opening mouth and not inserting the Doc Marten. But, seriously, Wesley, whatever those things are, they want you, and they're none too fussy how they get you."
"At least someone does."
"Don't be a prat. And the tart with a thing against carpet cleaner doesn't count. That one's a black widow, mate, trust me. Been there, got the scars. You don't want any more of those. You're mortal. I might heal; I doubt it, but you wouldn't."
"That's a bit presumptive, William. You don't know me."
"No, I don't. I think I'd like to though, had fun just now, and that... that's a good feeling. But I've been there and you don't want to. Believe me, you don't want to."
He supped his tea and sat quietly, hopefully thinking. In the meantime, we were up shitcreek with a very small paddle. There was only one way out - vigorous paddling.
So I paddled.
"If you don't know what's after you - and me for that disc - we need to talk to someone who does. Anyone you want to call?"
"Not really, I'll see how it works out. Might be fun."
"Yeah, you can have lots of fun with a bullet in your head, or some spray up your nose, or whatever the evil plan of the week is."
He snorted.
The door caved in.
Two Hyperion style, Gangsta Menthol Boys crashed through it.
Wesley said, "There goes my cleaning deposit again."
I launched myself at the big one with the most jewellery. Wesley still had the gun and shot the smaller one in the forehead. Guy was a good shot, impressive; guess I shouldn't have been surprised, but I was. Fortunately, it was a small calibre pistol and not loud, plus one of the neighbours believed in really loud music, so hopefully no coppers were alerted. Unfortunately a bullet in the brain didn't stop the smaller one, and he came straight at Wesley.
Mine was wielding a heavy chain, a truly dumb weapon to use on a vampire; unless you wanted him unconscious and his possessions relatively intact. It was pretty sure they wanted both of us alive - at least temporarily, as Wesley's had handcuffs dangling from his belt and nunchucks whirling around his head - making it hard to bop him on the nose.
I ducked under the chains; spin-kicked my one's legs from under him, grabbed the chain and smashed him round the face with it, which crunched the nose. Blue gunk duly flowed all over the Watcher's floor. Sorted. One down, one to go.
Wes had fired again; at the nose this time, but missed dead centre and took out an eye, with the thing still going at him with the nunchucks. Those things can kill; I've had fun with them over the years, and that thought made me feel sick again. But with a Watcher to rescue I choked it down. I whirled the chains and caught the nunchucks just as they were about to connect hard with Wesley's head. I wrenched them out of Gang Boy's hands and threw the chain/ nunchuck combo into the corner. I then spun around and punched through his nose. Bingo.
The adrenaline had perked the Junior Watcher right back up again, but this situation needed sorting. It needed someone who could work all this out, or at least knew where to start. In short, we needed the Senior Watcher.
"Right, this is beyond a joke. We need help on this: we need Giles. You know where he is, right? What am I saying? Of course you do." I took the address book out of my pocket, and flicked through it."
"That's my property."
"And this is me returning it," - which I did, after I'd memorised Giles' address in Bath, of course. I might have got a soul; I didn't become totally daft.
I continued, "And this is you packing, unless you want some more houseguests waving martial arts equipment." He glared, but took a look at the mess on the floor, the broken door, and the mess of chains in the corner, and said,
"Maybe you're right."
I said, "You know it makes sense."
Well, it made sense for him; Giles would help him in a heartbeat. He might well stake me. I'd deserve it too. But, and I didn't know if it was a side effect from Red's forgetting spell, I had this feeling Dad might just help me as an adjunct to Wesley. I placed my very existence on that feeling. Continued existence didn't feel very attractive, but it was all I'd got: Giles or the Incredible Dissolving Gangstas. England and Giles, or LA and continued attack, in this case it was a no-brainer. Giles it was.
"We should call and see if it's convenient, or if he's even there." Wesley prevaricated.
"No time. There's probably more on the way. So if you don't want another encounter, pack! Your passport's up to date, right?"
"Of course. But the tickets?"
"We'll buy 'em at the airport, courtesy of the Poof." I showed him the credit card. He smiled a truly evil grin.
Fortunately, that sent him off into the bedroom to pack. He shouted out to me to try and fix the door back on its hinges so he'd have some things to come home to. So while he packed his socks and stuff, I played handy-vamp. I was crap at it, but I did manage to bash the hinges back into the wall. It was a botch job, but serviceable.
Wesley came out of his bedroom, clutching a bag, and put it on the table. He muttered, "Passport, plastic cards, my PDA, mobile phone; now, anything else?"
"Computer? Do you have one of those laptop things? We might need it. I'm not sure how far into the modern era Giles's got yet."
He did and he unplugged and packed it. Then we shut the door and set off for the airport.
Well, there was one minor stop first. I hadn't arrived with my stuff all on me. So we had to detour to the bus station, where my meagre gear was in a baggage locker. My passport was in there too - so it wasn't just a strange attachment to my favourite socks. I had to get my passport, even if it was fake.
We also disposed of the gun on the way to the airport. I might not be on top form, but there was no way I was taking a gun through a US airport. Wesley also had no intention of leaving it in his flat waiting for Lilah to frame him with it.
One long drive to Los Angeles Airport later, we'd parked the bikes in the long-term car park, and taken the trip out to the British Airways terminal. Well, you have to be patriotic, don't you? Besides I've flown American Airlines and their check-in was crap. I needed an efficient service - after all, any light in my seat and cue fiery death.
It was the wee small hours of the morning by the time we got to the counter, but we still got tickets. The flight was at nine in the morning, but with all the boarding stuff in the terminal, and the forged doctor's letter I still had from the Africa flight saying I had a sun allergy - what? It's the truth! - and so needed to board in shade, I was sorted.
Check-in was interesting. Security has gotten tougher in the US, though they have still to manage basic principles like Transit. The question of whether I was packing any weapons almost cracked me up. I mean, apart from fangs that can tear through the hide of an elephant, strength enough to break walls, and a demon that loves nothing better than rending and destroying, not so much.
I did manage to charm the girl on the check-in desk into giving us the shadiest seats on the plane. We were too scruffy to get an upgrade though.
They did take a long time with us however. Not surprising really, since we both looked like shit, had interesting stains on very scrungy clothes, and passport stamps from countries that were not the US of A, but instead deeply dodgy. We both managed to get through eventually, without the rubber glove treatment, though our shoes did get sniffed. Good job too, not sure when security would have twigged that I was dead.
By the time we'd made it through all the formalities and perused the duty free shop for some much-needed smokes, we had surprisingly little time to wait. Starbucks was open, and we got some caffeine down our throats and just collapsed for a while - that seemed to last forever. I think we might even have dozed in there for a short time.
It didn't seem to take long before our flight was called for boarding, and we got on the plane to England, Giles, and hopefully some answers.