| Summer Series 2002: The Journey of the Fool Story the 7th ~ The Chariot By Kuzibah |
| Disclaimer: Spike is not mine, more's the pity. Spoilers: For "Grave." Archive- Please email request. Feedback- Absolutely. ******************* ~Cadiz, Spain Spike wasn't entirely happy being in Spain. For starters, he didn't speak the language all that well; he felt much more comfortable in France or Germany. Second, they needed to convert their stolen booty into cash, and Spike hadn't the first idea where in Spain he could do it. Plus, the large gypsy population made the general populace extra-wary regarding the possibility of a scam. Altogether an unsuitable place for a souled, chipped vampire and his pet Ghee demon to be on the run. On the other hand, Spike was reasonably certain their little ruse in Tangier had been successful. No Hroonta assassins had been waiting when they disembarked, and he'd heard nothing of their escape when he'd trolled for information in the more obvious demon bars. Now it was simply a case of fencing the shiny little baubles and arranging travel, at least to Liverpool. Spike was starting to get nervous as they entered the fourth place that gave off a strong scent of demon. He'd been asking a lot of not-so-subtle questions about selling jewels and what anyone had heard about the tribute to the Demonic See in Tangier, and knowing the underground as he did, word had undoubtedly spread about them already. It was only a matter of time before someone connected the dots. He'd like to be headed for France before dawn. They went down a stairway into a door below street level. Inside it was smoky, with small clumps of strangely-shaped beings gathered at tables nursing glasses of... well, blood, mostly, but some things even worse. Spike and Ariel tucked up to the bar. "Sangre," he said to the human bartender. "Uno sangre y... dammit... orange juice." He stretched the word out, "O-o-or-r-an-g-g-e." "I speak English, Se�or," the bartender said, moving off to fill the order. Spike glanced over as a demon in a black hooded sweatshirt slipped into the seat beside him. "I hear you are looking to exchange some jewelry," the demon said. "I might be," Spike said, taking the glass the bartender put in front of him. "Are you buying?" "Perhaps," the demon said. "My employer is something of a collector. Can you meet him tonight?" "I think we can arrange that, yeah." The demon nodded and withdrew to make a call on its cell phone, and Spike leaned in close to Ariel. "Stay close to me," he instructed, "and don't bring out anything until I tell you to. You understand?" The green demon nodded. "My employer is upstairs," the hooded demon said when his call was complete, and Spike and Ariel quickly drained their cups and followed him up to the street. A long, black limousine was waiting at the curb. The hooded demon opened the door and motioned to Spike. "Please get in," he said. Spike hesitated, assessing the danger, but Ariel simply pushed past him and entered the vehicle. Sighing in mental preparation for a fight, Spike followed. The interior of the limo was lit with deco-styled wall sconces which gave off almost no light, so it took even Spike a moment to see their summoner. It was horned and furry, with red eyes and long tusks. "I know you," it said. Spike gave the demon a hard look, searching his memory. "I'm sorry," he said, "I don't..." "You're the one that got away," the demon said, and Spike remembered. "You were in that pest-hole in Sunnydale, too, weren't you?" "Yes, vampire. For months. Even now I bear the scars of the humans' torture." "Did you get a behavioral control chip in your brain?" The demon gave a confused look. "Then count yourself lucky, mate," Spike said. "I broke open five of their skulls when I fought my way out," the demon said, reminiscing. "They were fools." Spike nodded, but said no more about it. He snaked his hand behind Ariel's back and stroked the soft fur through the cloth. "Show me the merchandise," the demon said, and Spike nodded to Ariel, who produced a flawless sapphire the size of a walnut. The demon took it and held it close to one eye. "It is acceptable," it said. "What do you desire in exchange?" "Cash," Spike said. "Euros, Pounds, and American dollars. Plus passports and papers for me and my companion here, if you can. Oh, and some sort of glamour for... it, too. Basically, enough to get us back to California." "You are returning to the Hellmouth?" The demon was incredulous. "With all the world to enjoy, you would go back?" Spike gave a rueful smile. "As with most things," he said, "it involves a girl." The demon smirked. "I will require many more gems than this," it said. "And I believe I can assist you regarding transport." "We have the gems," Spike said. "Now what were you saying about transport?" ~:~:~:~:~ Spike stroked one hand along the roof of the vehicle, then turned to Ariel for an opinion. The Ghee demon nodded. It was good. "It's a 1979 Cadillac Fleetwood hearse," the other demon said. "It runs well, there are curtains all around to keep you sheltered during the day..." "We'll take it," Spike said, "and all the rest. For the jewelry as we agreed." "No. Three more. Extra for the car..." ~:~:~:~:~ Sometime later, Spike was speeding north behind the wheel of an evil-looking car, Ariel bundled beside him and a bag filled with fifteen perfect one-carat diamonds, the last of the stolen booty, snug in his trousers' pocket. "I think things are going to be alright for us," Spike said, as they drove into the darkness. Go on to the next part - Strength Main Menu ~ Return to Summer Series 2002 Menu |