Drink Me

by John Cope

Part 23

Buffy and Spike were back in their respective rooms at the motel, but neither was sleeping.

In an attempt to put herself back on an even keel Buffy had let the glamour slip, she had watched her hair change from dark brown back to blond in an instant. Also she had slipped into a pair of silk pyjamas like she wore when she slept in her own bed at home, rather than the zero night attire she wore at the mansion and here on the first night, she hoped by the gesture to regain her....Buffyness.

It hadn't worked, she still felt wrong, the vampiress was still there, her thoughts were of cruelty and wickedness, she wanted to hunt and for Buffy to throw open the interconnecting door and beg Spike to fuck her like a bitch.

The Slayer wished she had never left Sunnydale, left the familiar things that anchored her to her soul. She knew she had no danger of losing it but still..still...still the voice cried out in her head.

Barefooted she paced up and down, hands pressed over her ears, as if the noise was coming from outside not inside her head. "Stop it.....I can't.......I won't........I love Angel not Spike........I won't do it."

"Are you alright in there Buffy?" The question was tentative to say the least even if semi shouted through a locked door.

"Yeah, I'm fine Spike.....sorry if I woke you." But she wasn't sorry, why should the object of her affections not suffer to. *I'm gonna be stuck in here all day with him, god I wish I could get out on my own.* Walking round LA on her own though would be worse than suicide, but suicide was an option.


On his side of the door Spike stood stock still, hands itching to force the lock, certain from the kiss that Buffy would throw herself straight into his arms if the chance presented itself.

Or alternatively she might beat him to death with her bed, but it was worth the risk.

His hand went for the door handle almost as if it had a life of its own, then jumped back just as fast as Spike heard the key turn.

************************************************************************** ************************************************

Back to brunette again Buffy had reached a conclusion.

*When Angel does stuff as Angelus he gets forgiven, cause he's not himself, not in control......So if Buffylus goes a little off the rails sometimes then the same thing holds.......especially if I don't tell people. Guilt, guilt is what binds Angel's soul to him, guilt I don't have, guilt I need.*

As her hand went up to the door she paused, *Problem, what if I enjoy it.....Buffy that is....not Buffylus.....what if I wind up liking Spike more that Angel. Ok sex or insanity............*

She unlocked the door, as she twisted the handle she though she heard footsteps on the other side and paused, but then she was framed in the doorway, looking lost rather than lusty. "Hey."

"Oh hullo Buffy, you not sleepy pet?" Spike was laying on the bed in just his boxers, he looked gorgeous, his alabaster skin contracted with the dark blue sheets he was lying on. He as trying to look nonchalant, and failing dismally.

"Uh......no......actually I couldn't." Buffy took a couple of steps forward into the room. "Is it ok if we talk for awhile?"

"Sure luv," Spike patted the bed beside him. "Come an lye.....er, sit here beside me."

A couple steps more the Buffy hesitated, *I'm Buffy Anne Summers, the Slayer, Angel's girl not Buffylus........but god he's cute."

Delicately and gently she sat, knees together, hands on her thighs, eyes looking firmly away from Spike. "So do you think we'll find our vamps tonight?"

*Who bloody cares?* Spike itched to touch her, to run his fingers through her hair, but if small talk was what Buffy wanted, small talk was what she would get. "Like...I like you pyjamas kitten, blue silk, do they feel as good as they look?"

Silk on bare skin, on nipples that were already erect, and pressing into her core stimulating her, like she wasn't horny enough. "Yeah.....kinda."

"Slayer, your all tense......want me to massage your back?" Spike got ready to make a move, to kneel behind her and caress her through the silk, but the bed abruptly emptied.

*Slayer......I'm the Slayer.......need to get out of here.......but I want to be here.* Turning the confused vampiress looked back at Spike, he looked swoon worthy and randy, there was a large bulge in his boxers he could not hope to conceal. *Yikes!*

"There's a soda machine down the hall."

"Yes kitten there is, do you want a soda?"

"If you'd like one too?"

"Well if your having one I might as well, and we can drink them together in......on my bed."

"That would be fun drinking soda in........on your bed, have you got change."

"Sure luv, I'll put me pants on and go get some."

"It's ok......I could use a walk......not that I don't want...like it in here.......but air. You got an ice bucket?"

"Pet we only need one each.........don't we."

"Well if we get thirsty later from.......trust me, we just might be thirsty later ok!"

"Ok!............here's the change......be careful......be back in two minutes or I come looking........the bucket's over there."

A huge smile crossed Spikes face as Buffy shot out of the room. *We might be thirsty later, bloody hell she wants to get sweaty with me, Angel is going to be so pissed when she gives 'im the elbow.*

It was obviously a little later in the day than Buffy had thought, a guy was pushing a huge laundry hamper down the hallway, but there was no queue at the drinks machine to her intense relief.

"Ok, diet coke for me.....fat coke for Spike......Doctor Pepper just in case......and a Sprite or two.....or three."

Kneeling she carefully positioned the cans in amongst the ice cubes, there was a noise of wheels behind her then a voice asked.

"Need any help with that miss?" The laundry hamper man had arrived beside her.

"No thanks I'm good........" Smiling the Slayer looked up and her eyes widened in shock.

PHUT.....the dart pistol was aimed from just four feet away, the dart slammed into Buffy's arm and the tranquilizer it contained entered her bloodstream. All the same she managed to make it to her feet and into a fighting stance before collapsing into her attackers arms.

In seconds the lid of the laundry hamper was up and Buffy, blond once more, was thrown inside, then the laundryman whistling cheerfully began to push his very expensive prize away.

Spike waited for three minutes, then reached for his pants and his boots. Rapidly getting into them he headed for the corridor. "'Ope she hasn't developed cold feet........cold feet......she'd a vampiress I'll 'ave to tell her that one...." He saw the abandoned ice bucket and the door at the end of the hallway swinging open. "Oh fuck."

He ran as fast as he could but when he crashed through the door all he could see was the tail lights of a transit van, he didn't even have time to remember the licence plate before the first rays of the dawn sunlight sent him crashing back into the motel.

"Damn them to fucking hell....." Spike put his boot into the wall a couple if times. "They'll have her out of the country before the bloody sun sets, I'm going to cut the balls of those mortal bastards when I find them......how can they do it, working for fuckin' vamps......"

Then he let it hit him, Buffy was gone. "I'll find you girl, if I have to follow all the way to England I will....an I'll kill anyone who's 'urt you on the way."

With that he retreated back to his room, praying even as he went that somehow it wouldn't be to late once the sun set, that he might still find his girl in LA and free her. He knew were to go to the Silver Snake, and he'd get answers this time, it was time for the railway spike.


There were seven of them, and they were armed to the teeth.

They were mortals, a mix of races drawn from all the slums and barrios of LA. They had one thing in common they all worked for 'The Turk' who was sat in a sunproof, bullet proof, limo just up the street, ready to command his troops.

The group were lined up either side the door to the abandoned liqueur store waiting for Jose to take it out with the iron battering ram he carried. The two men nearest the door held stun grenades, they would be thrown in first. After detonation the sub machine gun totting gunmen would storm the building and blast the two vamps inside to fragments.

Chambering a round into the Beretta machine gun he carried, the leader spoke into a mike he wore in his sleeve. "In position, over."

Sipping coffee in his luxurious command vehicle Bakull smiled and answered simply. "Do it."

Jose smashed the heavy metal pole into the lock , it gave way at the first blow. The bombs were thrown in and the door pulled back shut. A double BOOM followed.

Shouldering his weapon Leroy Washington kicked the door back open and followed by his crew plunged into the fume filled interior.


"Never get caught in the trap with the tiger." It wasn't exactly a guiding rule of the vetala's life, but it might as well have been.

As soon as he had arrived in the city, Browne had gone to look for a hidey hole, a safe roost. He had found what he sought here.

The first thing he had installed was a blast proof door in the entryway to the shops back room.

The second was to knock a hole in the floor, a hole that opened into the cellar. This was then covered by an airtight steel trap door, this lay open in between the two vampires sleeping mat's.

Even with a hangover Harry was down the hole within seconds of the stun grenades exploding. Browne was about five seconds behind, he delayed to flick a switch on a small parcel, which was stuck on the side of a large jerrican of gasoline that stood beside the door, then he pulled the trap door down above them.

The cellar had been altered the day they arrived back from Sunnydale. Keyholeing was a military tactic developed years after Browne had suffered his misfortune and found himself no longer a British soldier but instead an Indian vampire, it hadn't stopped him finding out about it later. The interconnecting walls all had nice round holes smashed through them.

The whole block was derelict, each building had a cellar. Their getaway vehicle a sunproofed car was parked a short dash from the door of the end store.

Harry was two cellars ahead of him already. "Do ya call that running! juldi 'Arry juldi."


Leroy and his men rapidly scanned the former store, nothing. Then they noticed the door.

"Sneaky fucks," they had no more stun grenades, they knew the vamps were armed. Fingers tightened on triggers as Jose smashed in the door.

Leading his two best men Leroy stormed through, their guns blazing on full auto. Plaster, wood chips and bedding fragments flew as they sprayed the room with lead, but again there was nothing.

"Boss I think we hit the wrong building." Knowing that the boss would be pissed didn't help, but hey the snitch would be the one who would be toasted. Then Leroy looked round and saw the fuel can, and the flashing panel that read 0.01.

The incendiary exploded and a torrent of burning gas spewed through the room.

Bakull had been about to angrily demand what the fuck his employee meant when a torrent of black smoke suddenly poured out of the disused stores door. It was followed by two moving fireballs which staggered into the middle of the street before collapsing to the ground.

"Wrong building, my ass," the turk shook his head, he had guessed that Browne wouldn't die easy, but this. He picked up his cellular phone. "Teams two, three, four and six deploy. They are in that block somewhere, kill them at all costs."

Transit vans drove out of side streets, gunmen got out and deployed. Bakull was in no hurry though he had bought half an hours cop free time, and Browne would have to make a move soon. His cover was burning.


Crashing up into the end store Harry grabbed one of the two thick blankets that were laid there as sun protection for the short dash to the car. Quickly he put one on over his head, James was clattering along their escape route behind him. "Come on mate, 'urry up, they'll be after us again......"

Somehow the glass had stayed in this shops front, a man was looking through it at Harry, he was also aiming a gun and smiling.

The burst of automatic weapon fire tore Greenaway open from the groin to the throat he slammed into the floor blood spouting from his wounds despite his lack of proper circulation.

"I have them," the gunman hastily swapped mags and joined by a colleague kicked in the remaining glass and stepped through the frame.

"Thirty thousand dollars American and el jefe's eternal gratitude." The lucky gunman was beaming as he advanced on the stricken vamp. "Raoul you may have the other one....."

The gunmen were backlit, the subterranean vampire wasn't, Browne's PPK cracked twice, two neat head shots saw the them both dead on the dirt encrusted floor.

"Arry, 'ow are you mate.......oh fuck me no." Brown grabbed his friend up. "I'll carry you to the car old son, come on I'll wrap you in both blankets, a few burns won't make no odds to me, I'm ugly as it is."

Blue eyes met yellow, though blood bubbled up as he spoke Harry Greenaway's words were clear. "You'd never make it, I'm shot to fuck, finish it."

"What the fuck you on about...." Browne could feel wetness on his cheeks he knew that it was blood, his own. "Course I can get you out, then I'll get you some good nosh.....a couple a dozen folk inside you an you'll be right as rain......now come on."

"Do you think I want to see you die." Somehow harry managed to raise an arm to grip his friend around the neck. "Finish me, you won't get out of 'ere alive carrying my weight, damn you FINISH IT!"

"I CAN'T!"

"Jamie if you love me like I love you, you'd strike." The blue eyes closed. "For pity's sake, finish it."

Without thought, on impulse Brown kissed his friend, his partner, his comrade of fights and hunts to numerous

to remember upon the forehead and then drew a stake. "I swear to you I'll kill them all, every last one of them. I....love you."

And the stake came down.

Blood roared through Browne's head, he turned towards the door and picked up the fully loaded weapons of his dead adversaries. He could end it here, he had two Uzi's and plentiful enemies in the street, all he had to do was step outside and before he burned away he could kill a dozen, but not Bakull and not Lord Charles fuckin' Beresford.

Raoul was wearing a head mike, Browne picked it up and put it on. "We have them, crippled, send transport to the end store."

He wasn't vamp of a hundred voices, but when he heard tires screeching he smiled as he realized he was in luck. How in-cautious they'd be though was another matter.

The van stopped by the window then did a sharp turn across the street, reversed back and mounted the sidewalk. Then the rear doors flew open framing five men, all of whose jaws dropped wide with shock even as they tried to bring weapons up to target in time.

Uzi's are not the most accurate of weapons, they tend to spray, and on full automatic the barrel rises as the firing goes on taking them off target after the first three rounds. A pissed off vampire is a strong vampire however, 60 rounds tore Browne's targets apart.

With a scream he was over them and into the van. The Khyber knife flashing at the throats of the driver and co driver as they tried to turn on him with pistols. He hauled the dead back from the door, they had guns and ammunition on them that he would need. Then he threw the drive side door open and driver out and despite burned hands got the door reclosed and himself behind the wheel.

Another van turned the corner and began to hurtle towards him. Browne put the pedal to the metal and sped away. The vans interior reeked of blood, it suited his mood to a tee.

"I'll get em for you 'Arry I'll get em all."


"Team three is down sir, repeat team three is down. Targets are escaping, team six is in pursuit, over."

"There are just two of them, how the fuck can you be letting this happen, get after them...." Bakull was about to throw the phone across his car when the screen separating him from his driver wound down.

"Marcus is on the other line sir," Mahmud the turks oldest minion had a broad grin on his face. "Team fire reports we have the Slayer."

"At last Allah smiles upon me." Bakull brought the phone back to his ear. "Team six break of pursuit. Everybody back to main base, over and out."

"Do we hand the girl over to the English?" Mahmud was puzzled at why his master should break off in mid fight, but it was not his place to question. "Shall I ring and arrange a meeting?"

"No, have her taken to my private hanger at the LAX," Bakull looked at the burning building and at the smouldering bodies in the street. "It's been an expensive day, and possession is nine tenths of the law. Time we find out how much our English friend is really ready to pay for his prize."

"Drive on........"

The window wound back up and the car set off, Bakull lit up a cigarette and sat back. "A million for a Slayer, how stupid does he think I am?"

Part 24

Spike sat on the motel rooms floor, he was in his usual garments, the leather duster lay on the bed beside him, he had decided screw subterfuge as that really hadn't worked so far. He had also very carefully positioned steel reinforcements in the toes of his Doc Martins, he was ready to kick ass, what he needed was ass to kick.

He looked at the phone on the bedside table for the fiftieth time, "Should I ring em, should I get Giles and Xander and the others 'ere?"

No!, he would have to wait for them to turn up, and the Slayer might be long gone by the time they arrived. She might be long gone already.

He had noticed the way that the wretched bartender had looked at him, he had made a bloody awful mistake. Someone must have recognized him and told the bloke, then two and two had been put together.

Spike looked at the clock on the wall, three hours to go. "Three bloody hours to go, I better find 'er or by god some fuckin' bastard is gonna die."


Browne sat at a table in a small rented house in Santa Monica, he was in a windowless room that opened onto the garage into which he had driven the van.

It was his secondary hideout, he had secured it the night he went to Sunnydale. A call to a relator who knew how vampires operated had been all it took. A bundle of cash and a vacant property with electrically operated garage door was his, he had stopped off here long enough to be invited in then gone about his business.

There was some danger that Bakull might hear about it, but Browne had been hunted many times in the past 118 years and he was ready for whatever happened.

On his way here he had found a deep underpass and not caring if he was seen had dumped the bodies. A slash down the torso to cut the belt buckle of the equipment harnesses the men wore, and then they were tossed to the ground like the dead meat they had become.

The items gathered lay before him now, seven submachine guns, nine pistols and a mass of ammunition. He could start a war, this was good, he intended to.

Carefully cleaning a Colt Semi-automatic Browne reflected on what he had to do, find Bakull, then from the turk get the location of Lord Charlie B. Neither would be easy, they moved around, vampire politics tended to be a matter of blood feud and surprise attack, neither wanted to be fucked up the ass by a rival.

So who could tell him were Bakull would be tonight. Sliding a loaded magazine into the pistol Browne knew where he had to go, to the Silver Snake and who to torture when he got there.


Buffy slept deeply, she was still wearing her blue silk pyjamas, but she was not in her bed.

The box was six foot by four in width and three foot high, it was metal, magically enhanced metal at that, and upholstered inside for its passengers comfort. Buffy easily fitted inside

It lay in the middle of the concrete floor of Bakull's hanger, between the two Lear Jets he owned for short-haul flights around his empire, LA, Frisco, Vegas and San Diego. Sunnydale?, who needed it, who wanted the world destroyed with so many humans corrupted by his money.

Six vampires and four humans lounged around inside the hanger, other mortals patrolled the area outside. Nobody touched the box, nobody thought to open the box. Bakull had made it clear if he caught the scent of any of his servants on the Slayer they would all die slowly. Having all at one time or another witnessed what that meant they weren't curious as to weather or not the Slayer was as beautiful as was claimed.

Drugged, Buffy slept. She did not dream.


Bakull was in his most secure stronghold, a network of caves dug down into the rock of the Verdugo mountains. A mansion covered the entrance way into his 'bat caves', he did not usual bring his business associates here but this was a special occasion.

He sat beside an inlaid desk, he wore a Savile row suit, the tailor had been handsomely rewarded for the risk of flying over to measure such a client. A box of Havanas lay open before him and he puffed on one contentedly as the lift brought Lord Charles and his Minions down to meet him.

The Peer had flown in reinforcements, eight vampires followed him from the lift, eight vampires who carried slung weapons. The turk just smiled, the wall behind him was lined by his men and in the balconys above, one in each corner of the room, were mounted M-60's he had acquired from a contact at Camp Pendelton, the crews were all turned Marines he had obtained at the same time.

"Charles, how good of you to come," Bakull rose and extended a hand, the English nobleman looked at it like it was a poisonous viper. "What, no handshake......a pity, please take a seat."

"Bugger take a seat!" Lord Charles sent a trail of spittle down his chin so passionately did he speak. "And bugger you!, where's the girl?"

"You are an offensive piece of shit......" Hands went for guns in both sides, but the dry click of machine guns being cocked made the English vampires look up and take note. "And if you were not so rich, you would die here and now."

"We have a deal......" It was hissed, this was what came of dealing with trade, rather than a gentleman. "How dare you try to cheat me."

"What do you think I am?" Bakull smiled and picked his cigar back up. "An Anatolian Goatherd just of the boat from Istanbul? I have dwelled in this country for seventy years, and I have learned it's ways, a million for the Slayer, do you think me a fool?"

"That was the price we agreed!" Spittle landed on the desk, if the Peers heart had been working he would have been clutching his chest by now.

"Today I lost sixteen of my men, expensively recruited. I have invested time and money in this venture." The turk flicked some ash away. "Browne is alive, his mate is dead, he is a strange creature half English half Pushtun. The English are a martial race, the Pushtun are a mountain one. Tell me Lord Charles do you know the meaning of the term pukhtunwali."

"You bloody know I don't," having realized that anger would get him nowhere the Peer grew calmer. "Get to the point man."

"I is the honor code of the Pushtun, it obliges them to grant hospitality and shelter to any who ask it," now Bakull's voice took on a dangerous note and he crushed the cigar out. "And to avenge with blood any insult or injury, no matter how long it takes. You have thus plunged me into a blood feud, this increases the price for now I must hunt Browne down and kill him, ere he kills me."

Without offering his guest one Bakull selected another cigar and prepared to light it.

"I took a trip today to the place were I have hidden the Slayer, she is a rose, a golden one." Now Bakull spat neatly just between his guests feet. "You would besmirch her, I would cultivate her. I do not think that I could make her love me but I would in time bring her to a condition where she would kiss the hand she could not bite. If I give her to you she will be destroyed"

"This also increases the price."

Even though he had thought he was long past such experiences Lord Charles began to feel a cold sweat on his back, he knew that if he did not strike a deal the Turk would kill him and keep the girl for himself. He asked the all important question.

"How much?"

"Six million dollars."

"Done!" The Beresford family fortunes had just taken a beating but the Peer was confident of recovering the money if he got the Slayer home. "I'll have the funds transferred once you deliver the girl to me, prove you have her and I will make the preparations today."

"One of your men, one cell phone." Bakull shrugged he would rather have the money that an unexploded Slayer in his cellars any day. "He will be taken to the hiding place, once he phones you we will arrange the handover for tomorrow night. You may go now, I grow tired of you."

Inwardly seething the Englishvamp retreated to the lift. *First thing I'm doing once I have the gal house broke is to bring her back here, I'll show the bugger cultivation!!!"


Smoking very slightly, Spike dived behind the wheel of his De Soto and headed off the Motel lot, the dying rays of the setting sun had been bearable, he might have a tan for a few days but little more. Rapidly he headed for his destination, The Silver Snake Club.

He arrived as proper darkness fell, he parked round the back and as quietly as possible headed up the fire escape.

The building was under the protection of both organized crime and vampires, therefore security around back could afford to be lax. Spike headed for the third storey a window there had steel shutters either side of it, just the target he was looking for, the office.

A glance inside revealed he was in luck, two people, one a vampire one a human sat drinking at a desk, both well dressed. The vampire owners representative and the club manager at a guess, both well informed, one more easily tortured than the other, Spike morphed and rising too his feet kicked the glass in.

The earlier visit had been handy, an all welcome sign had given him all the leave he needed for future visits, now he made the most of it.

Regardless of broken glass he dived in, the vampire was trying to pull a stake from a coat pocket, Spike was faster he drew and hurled his stake straight into the vampires heart. Even as the dust flew Spike was diving onto the mortal dragging him back from a panic button.

"Oh no you don't cully, I've a problem you can help me with mate." Spike's clawed fingers covered the man's mouth. "Where's the Slayer?"

Allowed to breath a little the man replied. "Slayer, don't know what your talking about...ouuuffh."

Spike's knee came out of the mans groin and spewing he was dropped to the floor. "And for that you get a kicking to....."

The sound of a gun being cocked halted Spike's Doc Martin in mid air. "Sorry sonny can't let you do that, you kick 'im to death and I 'aint gonna find out what I needs to know."

A vampire was leaning through the window Spike had opened, aiming an SMG at Spike.

"You from London, mate?" Spike calculated the distance to his stake. "Small world, isn't it?"

"Not small enough for you to reach that before I kill you," the vampire smiled. "My names James Cahill Browne, and from the way your dressed, I'd say your Spike, we 'ave a mutual need for info, mate, care to join forces?"

"Don't you work for the toffs?" Spike was taking in bandaged hands and ragged clothes. "Or 'ave you 'ad a falling out."

"Could say that." Browne nodded towards the mortal, who was lying doggo hoping to be forgotten. "He knows where the bloke who's got your Slayer is, but kicking 'im to death wont 'elp. Lift 'im up an let me ask nice."

"What the fuck do you think I'd tell you for....." The man looked round wide eyed. "What you can do to me ain't nothing to what Bakull will, I'm gonna die easier with you than him."

"Where does he rest tonight scum?" Browne came in and put down the gun, then drew the long butchers knife he had taken from the first Pushtun he had killed all those years ago. "You are dead already, yes that's true, but it will not be easy, I will cut the appendages and extremities from thy foul carcass and make you eat them raw and slice the eyes from your head. Or it can be swift."

Spike wished he could look away as the vampire advanced on them, there was the sharp smell of urine as their prisoner fouled himself. "No, I can't tell."

"Spike, put his left hand on the desk." Much against his will the blond vampire pinned the hand down. "There are fifteen joints per 'and, that's fifteen cuts a side."

The knife flashed and the tip of the mans little finger was sliced away, "Or maybe faster, why don't I take your thumb."

Trying to scream past Spike's hand the man almost passed out. "We could lock you in that car outsides boot, come on my son, do you want to go to Allah slashed about, I won't kill you if you tell."

"The Verdugo mountains, a country road just past Woodbury University heading north on route 5, head up there till you reach a white mansion its unmissable, please don't cut me anymore."

They had to get him to repeat it without Spike's hand in the way before they were satisfied, the two vamps exchanged looks. "What's in it for you?" Spike asked first.

"Revenge, I want the buggers dead." Browne wiped his knife blade clean. "Before I kill Bakull I'll make him tell you were your girl is, 'ow's that sound."

"Like a deal, do you think he's telling the truth." Spike gave their sobbing, bleeding, stinking victim a shake.

"Yeah," Picking up his gun Browne headed for the window. "Kill 'im."

"But you said....." Spike began.

"I said I wouldn't kill 'im, an you look pale." the vetala looked back at his new partner. "Best feed whilst you've a chance."

*Common sense enough,* Spike bit home and drank, he'd promised not to kill in Sunnydale, this was LA.

"Shall we go?"

Both vampires clattered down the fire escape and ran to their respective vehicles. With Spike leading they headed for the freeway.