Chapter Six

(On the newly christened Love’s Bitch flying from Los Angeles to Cleveland)

“Charlie boy, are you sure about our pilot. The bloke looks a bit like a duffer.” Spike asked rolling his eyes to the front of the plane. It had been a harrowing experience just trying to get everyone exited from the Hyperion via the sewer access to where he had stored his precious Desoto, cram everyone into his baby and then burn asphalt until they reached the LAX private airstrip hanger. Then, the cloak and dagger of Charlie doing birdcalls to some previously unknown codger who probably hadn’t flown since Korea to sneak on the jet.

“Just chill Fang. Rufus knows his stuff. He used to work for our former employers, but only doing light transport. Luckily for him, he wasn’t one of those made to sign on the blood oath dotted line. Besides he owes me a few favors…bailed his granddaughter out of a sticky custody mess with a Brachen demon a while back.” Gunn assured him.

The plane had taxied down the runway without a hitch. However, they had to file a false flight plan to throw off any unwanted welcoming committees. Apparently Rufus had come up with a few ideas of his own. Once they had cleared the tower and had been in flight for an hour, he made an emergency call to a nearby airport requesting a change of flight plan, while at the same time switching some beacon emitting their jet’s code to air traffic control. To anyone who was watching, it would appear that the jet had crashed somewhere over Wyoming.

Spike had turned his attention to his passengers, recalling that the last time he had been on this plane it had been with the Great Poof on their way back from Rome and the disastrous ‘head’ affair. Rome…and Buffy, with her bouncing hair in that nightclub dancing, like the first time he had ever seen her. Knowing that she had been kidnapped and he was trapped half way around the world made him feel as useless as he had when he was first chipped by the Initiative. He needed to get his mind off Buffy, and what they might be doing to her, in order for him to not completely tear up his smashing new jet.

Everyone had freshened up and changed clothes at the hotel. Well Blue was in her regular armor attire, he wasn’t sure what she had done to address her wounds. Gunn was wearing his street gear, a jeans jacket with dark blue jeans and a red tee. Faith was in her typical red leather pants, black cami-top, black leather jacket with heavy makeup and black boots. Rona was adorned in a style familiar to him from Sunnydale – jean overalls, purple tank, docs and a green bandana wrapped loosely around her dreads. Pinky’s style was, even in his opinion, adorable – wearing cropped faded jeans, pink high-top sneakers, a white t-shirt and pink sleeves emblazoned with the logo ‘I’m a brat!’ she had her hair again in two pigtails but instead of leaving them to hang had taken two long pink ribbons and wrapped them around to have her hair similar to the ‘Witch Hunter Robin’ anime chit. His nephew, the Destroyer, had changed out of his preppie wear to a nice respectable street punk look – black jeans, dull green t-shirt and brownish-green jean jacket. Of course, Spike was in his usual attire, spiffed up slightly for the occasion with a touch of color, under his black duster he was wearing black jeans, a black t-shirt, and red button-up shirt. Yeah the red shirt…he had not worn that in a very long time.

“So Slayerettes, give your old chum the news on the rest of the gang from our days in Sunnyhell,” he queried, suppressing the small growl that had threatened to escape.

Rona decided she would take on Spike’s question, especially since there was one Slayerette in particular she wanted to pass along the word about. “Well Spike, I gotta give you the 411 about the pushy bitch from hell, Kennedy. Faith is no longer the textbook definition of a rogue slayer. Kennedy has decided she wants the Bad Ass Backstabbing Murdering Bitch Slayer crown all for herself. She went as she describes it “a little overboard” and slaughtered five innocent humans two of which were children. Children…Billy boy…little boy and a little girl not more than six years old. All because they happened to get in her way. Well the bitch is in a secured prison in South America where even her rich daddy’s money can’t bail her ass out. And unlike Faithy, we have Kennedy locked away behind enhanced steel bars…she’ll never get out…ever.”

All in the small cabin of the jet felt her vehemence over the betrayal of the calling. Gunn moved over next to her offering his shoulder to lean on if she wanted it. Spike smiled inside looking at the interesting development that was taking place between the two street-wise and world-weary soldiers of their merry little gang.
Faith spoke up at this awkward moment, “Umm well I still say I am the original Rogue Slayer, and I broke the mold after the Powers made me. So K will have to buy her own damn crown.”

Good on Rogue to try to lighten the mood Spike asked, “What about Red?”

“Red? Oh the Goddess is sad that her honey went all dark slayer, but really who better to understand how that could happen, right. But Wills, no, she read her aura or something and just left. Said she couldn’t help her. Went back to the main Coven in Westbury. She’s all single girl now…being all Mary Tyler Moore ‘she’s gonna make it after all’ or whatnot,” answered Faith.

She continued, “Giles has been heading up the Council HQ in London trying to reestablish old contacts, working on recruitment, all that administrative stuff that just screams to those who wear tweed. Since Seer chick vision-o-rama, our little branch has not been sending the ‘A’ book reports to G-man. So not sure what G knows right now. Robin will know when we get home.”

“Let me ask you this…where was Andrew assigned after dropping Pinky off with you?” he knew he had seen the little tosser in Rome, but they didn’t know that. Besides if his Slayer and Nibblet were kidnapped where was Andrew during all this?

“Well at first, he was in Rome with Buffy and Dawnie. But we haven’t heard from him in over two months now.” Rona replied.

“Me and Peaches saw the budding filmmaker in Rome on business, had stopped by to see the Slayer who was out with her latest, and then the little wanker takes off with two Italian belladonnas, him acting all James bloody Bond.” Spike grumbled.

Faith and Rona exchanged confused looks. Faith asked, “Have you been hitting the Jack again, Bleachy? Cause man, Andy is gay – you know light in the loafers. Last we heard he was dating Dorian, some art student at the same school as Dawnie.”

“Wait a bleeding minute…you mean to tell me that our Andy is the Poofter I always thought he was. Okay…but if that’s true then who the bloody hell was that in Buffy’s apartment that chatted all nice like with Peaches and me? ‘Cause mates, the arse that was there was straight as a board. And you haven’t heard from Andy in over two months?” Spike mulled this over in his mind. If Andrew in Rome was not the real Andrew, then who was the bastard? And how long had he been planted in his Buffy’s apartment, watching her and manipulating her?

He raged on, “The sodding bastards! We got to get this sorted! What did you chits know about Buffy and this Immortal wanker?”

“Oh Guido,” Rogue piped up, “Yeah, man well, never met him. B though just keeps on raving about the guy. Umm sorry Blondie. He answered the phone once when I rang her up, had this nasally sounding voice, rude as hell when I didn’t fawn all over the phone, and after me basically threatening to come to Rome to kick his ass, he put B on the phone. She just acted like nothing had happened straight out of Stepford man. And Dawnie is just as bad. Lil Sis acts like she did when she was twelve crushing on the Xan-man.”

“Yeah I got that too Faith, when I had to call about some thing Adam asked me to report about. D was all the Immortal this and the Immortal that. Made me want to just throw up. So what…Spike, you think something is up with that? Does Xander think the Immortal helped bag Buffy and Dawn?” Rona added.

He feels gutted. It was all there right under his bloody nose! But he had been too busy pissing around with General Grumpypants that he missed all the blatant clues.

Connor interjected sensing his uncle’s anger, “Ladies, it appears we are almost to Cleveland. I suggest that we hold off on making with the plans until we find out what more has been learned. We have about probably another forty-five minutes left; so I suggest if you can get a quick nap, reserve your energy. We don’t know what lies ahead.”

The Slayerettes nod in agreement. Faith moved back to her seat more towards the front of the cabin. Dana stood to move with her, but before she left, she stopped giving Spike’s hand a tight squeeze for support. Spike looked up at Pinky with thanks. Gunn and Rona took the seats in the back of the cabin where Gunn could stretch out his legs helping his injuries heal. Blue stayed near the front of the cabin with Faith and Dana to observe their nature.

Connor stayed in the seat across the aisle from his uncle.

With a bit of humor, Spike realized on his last plane ride, he and Angel had been in the same seats.

“Ta Junior,”

“None needed, Uncle Will.

“Boy, no one calls me Will…not even her and certainly not some brilliant sprog like yourself. Call me that again, you will know why they called me Bloody.”

“Sure…as long as you stop calling me Junior. My name’s Connor not Liam so I am not his junior.”

“Right then. Con….” Spike’s left hand grabbed his neck; his right fisted his armrest, “Con…”

“Uncle…what’s wrong?” Connor turned in his seat to better help his uncle who appeared to be weirdly enough trying to catch his breath. “Uncle…”

“It’s Buffy…I felt her…just barely. I haven’t been able to do that since I’ve been back.” A slow smile crept along his face, “Ah, Vicious, she’s right brassed off. My girl’s gonna make ‘em wish they’d never been born.”
******

(Landing strip at Cleveland’s Burke Lakefront Airport)

Love’s Bitch had touched down on the runway at the Burke Lakefront Airport that caters to corporate and private aircraft, relieving air traffic from the hectic Cleveland International Airport. Spike wondered how hectic could Cleveland International be; and who the bloody hell would want to come to Cleveland that didn’t have to be here? Oh right, the bleeding Rock and Roll Hall of Fame was here.

As the plane taxied to its hanger, he noticed a limousine awaiting their arrival. Had it not been for the Whelp and the Principal standing outside of the limo, he might have eaten the pilot.

Spike watched as Rogue ran down the jet’s steps and pounced into the waiting arms of Wood. Made him want to heave. Connor made his way down next, followed by Charlie. They stood off to the side. Neither of them had met Captain Ahab or the Slayer Spawn, so they just observed.

Dana hopped down the steps and ran to her Mr. Xander who patted her on the shoulder. Spike paid special attention to how the Whelp acted around the psycho slayer. Perhaps the chit reminded him a bit of Demon Girl.

Rona followed Pinky off the jet. He did not see any watcher type greeting her. Maybe this Adam bloke had business elsewhere.

Blue marched down the stairs and took position beside Gunn and Connor.

He turned to Rufus, the pilot, and said, “My little band of misfits appreciated the lift, mate. Ta. Have her at the ready. We may be needing her sooner rather than later.”

With that he disembarked from the jet.

As his feet hit the pavement, the door to the limo opened. Out stepped a man wearing a long camel colored duster, brown pants, with short brown hair. As the man turned his face, Spike saw the dark brown eyes and the Romanesque nose.

Without thought, Spike shifted into game face, pulled out his katana, and surged forward.

Nothing else existed for him at that moment except that sodding bastard standing before him.

Every other person stood watching Spike’s attack in shock. No one understood, nor could they comprehend what they were seeing.

Spike leapt forward with his sword only to be met by his foe’s Ivanhoe sword with bronze hilt in defense stance.

“You’re dead, you miserable bastard! I watched you die in 1927!” Spike exclaimed.

“As you are as well, you prat! Will you lay off with the violence for a bit, William?”

“Spike! Hey bleached wonder what do you think you are doing attacking Adam like that?” asked the Whelp

He shifted his gaze to the Whelp and snarled, “S’not human, Ahab. Saw him die from a gun shot wound to the heart over 77 years ago.”

“What?” was heard collectively.

“William or as you like to be known, Spike, allow me to reintroduce myself. I’m Adam Pierson, Rona’s Watcher. Unfortunately, you have just blown the most carefully crafted cover I’ve had for decades. Ta, you sodding prick. I would have rather discussed this privately with you, but since you have chosen to hold me at a standstill, swords drawn, I will admit that I am an immortal – one of a few who are left.”

Spike backed away from Adam, stashing his katana in his duster, observing Adam doing the same. So he shifted back to his human guise, “You still owe me money…and I’ll be collecting the soddin’ interest.”

Spike heard Connor ask, “So is this guy the same kind of ‘immortal’ as the Immortal?”

*********
A/N: Adam Pierson appears as the author's wild perogative and greatest desire crossing over from Highlander:The Series. Disclaimer: I do not own Adam, David-Panzer Productions does. More on Adam in the upcoming soon to be written chapters. (and yes, I know some of you know who he really is!!)