One Wild Ride

by John Cope
Buffy/Dusk Til Dawn/Wild Bunch Crossover

Chapter Two: What a bloody stupid place to break down

The only sound on the streets of Torres, save for a couple of strays fighting over a recent corpse, was a low level cursing, in a curious accent for a town in the middle of Mexico.

There was a De Soto parked not 20 yards from the body, the hood was up and the curses emanated from the leather duster clad man who was peering underneath. "Come out, you bloody bastard, oh you sod". There was the sound of rubber protesting against its fate, then a blond man emerged from under the hood holding up a busted fan belt. "Well now I'm in a bloody pickle and no mistake. Torres, what a bloody stupid place to break down".

Spike glanced across at his victim, an amateur mechanic staggering home after too much tequila. *Way too much* he thought, feeling the effects. "Never look a gift horse in the mouth" his mum had always said and a snack had been in order, but still, the bloke was liable to draw attention to the car so best to shift him. Shieing a few stones over the dogs heads he drove them off, then dragged the body on to a convenient slope and tipped him down it. Walking away, he saw the dogs (which sensed something about him) sidling round and then running off to pursue their meal.

The vampire smiled, 'Man killed in rabid dog attack' the kind of headline a vampire loves, mortals were so reliably stupid. He looked across the 100 yards of open ground that separated him from the towns outskirts. Somewhere out there was an old car whose fan belt had his name on it, he had five hours of darkness left to find it. Sticking his hands in his pockets, he set off, kicking at stones in his path.

"Now this is were Dru would come in handy", he mused aloud as he walked. "She'd have whipped her tights off, (eventually, Miss Edith permitting) I'd have replaced the fan belt with them and off we go. ‘Stead of which I'm reduced to knicking spare parts".

He'd tried to get her back, but it was no use, even torture hadn't helped. She wasn't having it, plain and simple. That bastard of a sire of his had destroyed 80 years of love.

So he was going back north again to make Angel pay, he had taken from Spike what Spike had loved most dearly, now let him see how it felt. Spike was going to some how take the Slayer from him, but not by killing her, no that would be too easy. Angel would just be grief stricken for decade or so and then get over it. No the key was to take the girl's love and really give him something to brood on. All Spike had to do was find a way.

An hour or so later (how fortunate to break down in the land of the old American car), Spike was heading towards the De Soto, clutching a barely used fan belt and whistling what passed in his mood for a happy tune, White Wedding. It seemed a reasonable choice, Buffy having only done the deed with Angel the one time and from his last sight of her in Sunnyhell, he didn't think she'd indulging in much fun since.

"A totally uninhibited shagfest is what that young lady needs". Spike smiled at the thought. "And I feel just like the Vamp to give it to her".

And though he wasn't going to say it out loud, it was months since Spike had done it with anyone who mattered to him (well he'd shagged minions but they didn't count). Dru had been lost, Buffy now to be obtained. It was the distraction of thinking about burying his cold cock deep in Buffy's hot wet core that made him forget to look round the corner of the intersection he was passing, a mistake that would ultimately change his life forever.

"Well if it isn't Spike". A voice snarled from the darkness. "I've been hoping to cross your path again for so long, you traitor!".

Before Spike could so much as emit an "Eh" in response a vampire burst upon him swinging a punch at his head.

Though surprised the blond vamp succeeded in avoiding the blow and as the fist flew over his shoulder brought his knee up firmly into his opponents groin. Spike grabbed the back of his attacker's head as he doubled up and his knee came up again, there was a satisfying crunch as it struck the vampires nose.

"Now is my shit together, or is my shit together?" Spike hissed as he let the unconscious vampire drop. He kicked the body over and looked at the mangled face.

*You know, I'd swear that's one of Tricks minions*, he though scratching his head. He set out back up the street he'd been about to make use of, but paused after a few steps, ahead in the darkness was a presence that made his senses scream 'Vampire' and he knew the strength of the feeling meant dozens. *Ok, so I say to them your poor mate tripped*, Spike shook his head and stepped into an inviting alley, discretion seemed the better part of valor, time to find another way round town.

He'd gone just a few yards when he halted the feeling was there again. A loud dry click emanated towards him, he could be wrong but he had a strong idea what it signified. He put his hands up.

"Gracias Senor, now show me how good you are at walking backwards". The voice was smooth, and sounded like it came from a confident bastard, *lets get him were I can see him*.

Spike shuffled back staring ahead the outline of the vampire beginning to form in his mind's eye, five foot seven or so with a fucking big pistol. Vampires can't be killed by bullets, but they can be inconvenienced. When they came back out into the street light therefore Spike's eyes were focused on the pistol barrel, the black hole looked like the Brooklyn tunnel and he had the sensation of being Jersey bound.

"You know mate, where I come from, it's considered bloody rude to point guns at people".

The vampire before him shrugged, though the peacemaker stayed pointed straight between Spike's eyes. "My apologies Senor, but you are an anglo and this is Mexico, so I'll do what I like".

He was dressed for a bull fight, a round hat hung from a string round his neck his black hair was almost totally covered by a bandanna, a black jacket came to his waist covering a white shirt. Tight leather pants with decorative buttons up the side came down to cowboy boots which mounted spurs. Around his waist was a gunbelt of tooled leather cartridges gleamed in the hoops sown on it.

"Bloody hell". Spike couldn't help but exclaim. "When did your horse die, mate?"

"A good many years ago Senor gringo, but I like to hear the spurs jingle, they remind me of better days". The pistol motioned to the left, "Oblige me Senor, by carrying on in the direction you were heading. I have amigos who might like to meet you".

Spike knew that this would take them away from his comatose attacker, the further away from him he went the better. He didn't appreciate it, therefore, when the Mexican said. "Oh look there's an acquaintance of mine in the gutter over there, please Senor wait for a moment". He heard the spurs jingle as the vampire walked away from him and for a second tensed to run. "Oh Senor, I can still blow a kneecap off from back here".

Spike relaxed, "Thanks for the advice mate, it's appreciated".

He was startled to hear a series of thuds behind him and risked a glance over his shoulder. He turned away with a grin at what he saw the Mexican was putting the boot into the stricken vampire, and making a thorough job of it. *Ok son relax a little, he doesn't like Trick's minions either. I've something in common with him*.

The spurs jingled back. "Had fun mate?" Spike laughed, the other Vampire joined in. "I thought he might have been a mate of yours".

"A mate? Oh an amigo, no Senor Blondie, he is just a business acquaintance of el jefe". The Vampire made a spitting sound. "I have been waiting to do that for days. The bastardo has been acting like he thinks he's General fucking Pershing since he got here".

Pissed off at being nicknamed after a singer other that Mr. Idol (and a bird at that) Spike decided introductions were in order. "The name's Spike, by the way".

"Spike, Senor who calls you that? Is the ladies, they think you are el mucho hombre".

Spike almost said "no, its cause I used to torture people to death with red hot railroad spikes", but thought before he spoke. "Si Senor, that's exactly why I'm called it. And they don't just think it, they know it".

"You've done me a favor I won't forget Senor". The Mexican came round Spike and into his line of sight but kept beyond grabbing range and held the colt rock steady. "My name is Angel. If you need my assistance, against anyone but el jefe, ask it".

Startled for two reasons Spike could only stare, firstly *not another bloody one* and second *Where the fuck am I? This isn't how Vampires act offering one another favors, debts of bloody honor!*. But managed. "Well mate, let me walk off and out of here and you can consider us even".

Angel shook his head, "It shames me, Senor Spike, but this favor I cannot grant, first you must speak with el jefe". The pistol barrel waved Spike on. "Por favor, continue a little further".

Spike walked, *all right then talk to the head bloody honcho and out of it, yes mate I kicked el gringo norte americano's arse, but so did yer boy here. Ok if I go now, cheers*. But he had a feeling in his water, (or what passed for it, he hadn't taken a piss in 200 years) that things weren't going to be that simple.

Then he began to see then groups of vampires lounging about smoking and talking quietly, he looked round *Ok were's Calavicci cause if this isn't Quantum Leap...*. They were wearing round hats, sombrero's, bandanas, they were mostly dressed like vaqueros but it was the bandoleers, the colts, the Winchesters and the Mexican Mausers plus sheathed machete they carried that startled him most of all. *It's like a bloody spaghetti western*. He thought, wishing he'd brought along six friends.

They headed on, nobody sparing him much more that a glance, coming to the end of the street Spike's keen ears picked up raised voices, American ones. They were arguing fiercely.

"Why do you think I laid on all that bagged blood, to keep your people and mine from running wild on the streets and stirring up trouble with the federales". The first voice said. "My companero's have discipline, you people, you're just trash!".

"Bagged blood! That's for whipped dogs". The second voice. "We wanted something warm and fresh".

A loud laugh echoed out, and a third voice chimed in. "Warm and fresh, that mamasita is almost as old as me, and looking at what's left of your friend she was as tough".

"Damned old bitch!", the second voice answered. There was a thud as if someone had been kicked.

The first voice again calmer than before. "Leave the dead to lie, she had twice the sand you do. And if you touch her again you'll join your friend, dead on the ground".

Spike turned the corner and could see them three men with some more bandito types (pissed looking ones) in the background. The first vamp was easy to look at and then dismiss black leather jacket and jeans, he had a vague recollection he knew him from Sunnyhell *Lee?* probably running for Trick now, an asshole, a nobody. The other two well back to the Wild South-West.

The first looked like he'd been heading for 45 when he'd been turned. His face was care worn a mustache adorned his upper lip, his eyes had a look of iron. He wore a stained Stetson, along time ago it had probably been white. A black three piece suit covered his body, he even wore an old fashioned black tie, his footwear was scuffed spurred cowboy boots. A pistol barrel protruding below the hem of his jacket showed he wore a holster on his right hip. A leather band across his chest that headed for a bulge on his left side strongly suggested a second piece was holstered there.

The second was perhaps a year or so younger and an inch shorter, but looked a foot wider than either of his companions. His shoulders were broad and powerful giving him a squatter look than he deserved . His face, well the nose might have been broken at some time, the eyes closer together than perhaps seemed right, and beady, definitely beady. Add in uneven teeth and Spike couldn't help but hope to see the bloke game faced *It should be a right bloody laugh*.

He wore a brown Stetson, a black waistcoat, a collarless shirt and jeans. *Oh lookie more spurs* Spike though as he took in the Vampire's footwear. His weapons however gave pause for though. A common enough .45 revolver at his hip an old fashioned pump shotgun cradled under his left arm, but his right hand rested easily on a wooden stake nonchalantly thrust into his belt.

Spike was a good judge of characters, *The black suited bloke, el jefe, the other fellows an enforcer, like those blokes who used to hang around the Krays*. He felt no fear but a deal of confusion, *What the hell have I stumbled into here?*.

His feelings were now centered round one thing, curiosity. Tricks minions combined with a large number of vampires spelled trouble and he had a strong idea who for, Buffy. He knew in his heart why he'd failed to kill her, one cause he'd underestimated her and her friends every time, and two cause he'd never brought along enough vamps. He didn't think he liked el jefe suspecting he might be a clever deadly smart arse S O B.

Now he was close enough to see why the vamps were arguing an, old Mexican woman was lying drained on the ground. In one of her wrinkled hands was a broom, the whole thing not just the handle, a pile of ash lay two feet from her, *Somebody's met a sticky fate, ha ha*.

Everyone turned to look at Spike at once as Angel coughed to attract their attention. "May I introduce Senor Spike, and I have the honor of naming Senor Pike Bishop and Senor Dutch Engstrom". As an afterthought and with an obvious sneer he added. "And Lee".

"Evening gents". Spike said being his maximum cheery self.

"Put your han...". Pike began but was interrupted by Lee snarling "Bastard!", and grabbing for the stake in Dutch's belt.

It was a mistake. Dutch casually swung his shot gun up and slammed the barrel on Lee's head the vampire staggered back then snarled into his game face. Dutch responded in kind.

*Wow, I almost wish I'd been born ugly. Any mortal looking at that would be shitting his pants right now*.

Dutch aimed the shotgun at Lee's face, and snarled. "Interrupt Mr Bishop again and I'll tear out your arms for a necktie". His left hand worked the pump levering a round into the chamber. "Touch any of my weapons again and I'll blow your head off".

Though pissed he hadn't been allowed to whup another of Tricks boys,, Spike felt better there was a cowering minion and violence was going on *Home sweet home*.

Pike was impressed the guy hadn't even flinched and even if Dutch hadn't stopped the rat bastard he wouldn't have put a cent on Lee. "Like I was saying son, you can put your hands down now".

The black suited vamp looked him up and down, "You a Limey".

"Yeah". Spike nodded, *I'm at least a hundred years older that this bloke and he's calling me son*.

Dutch lowered the shotgun, though he still leered at Lee in a way that spoke volumes. "Long way off your territory, aren't you boy?"

*BOY!*. Spike seethed inwardly. "No Yank, I'm not off it ever. I'm a Vampire, which means the worlds my oyster".

"You've got sand". Dutch turned his leer in the blond's direction. "Guess that makes you the Spike we've been hearing about lately".

"Sure he is, and he damned well works with the Slayer", Lee spat his courage returning a little.

The stock of the shotgun slamming into his face sent Lee to the ground. "And don't ever interrupt me either". Dutch snarled.

"Well Mr". Pike looked him in the eye, and Spike knew why these men followed him, why Dutch served a Vampire he could tear in half, there was iron there and a dangerous power to command.*Yike, reminds me of the Master*.

"Yes I'm not unfamiliar with Sunnydale, and sure I'm that self same Spike". He grinned liking this part. "Killed 2 Slayers and almost nailed a third, several times, and as for working with her, pure coincidence I developed a disagreement with Trick just as she attacked him, it's not my fault if it looke..".

"Liar". Lee began from his position on his ass, then caught Dutch's evil grin and realized its rude to butt in.

"She as tough as this piece of gutter trash says?" Pike asked.

"The original Slayer Buffy is, she's faced me and she's still breathing". Spike though back to the fight in the church. "In fact she's twice as tough as that prat there could ever hope to describe".

"Two Slayers! It is not right". Angel said. "Somebody should do something about it".

"That's just what I was off to do when I met you mate". Spike lied. "I've been away for a little holiday now I'm going back to kick their arses".

"Well bearing in mind what happened to you last time, maybe it's a good job you met us". Pike said. "I think you and I could do each other a favor here".

*Cheeky bugger*, Spike was doing more temper suppressing today than he had ever done in his life. "What kind of favor?".

"That tough old lady there swept up our driver, one of Tricks boys for a good thing." Pike skittered the ash's a little with the toe of his boot. "I take it, son, you aren't walking north".

Dutch said, "I think our friend here wants to say something".

Lee had his hand up, like some little boy in school. "David can drive, you don't need that son of a bitch".

Spike kicked him in the teeth, there are limits after all. He felt better his angst build up released.

"Make yourself to home". Dutch prodded the unconscious vamp. "Don't mind us at all".

"He has a point though". Pike looked pissed.

"El jefe, I'm so absent minded". Angel looked down trying to seem all hangdog. "David is lying injured in the street, I think he's been hit by a car". He gave Spike a sly wink.

"Jeez louise, Tricks boys are having an unlucky night". Dutch shook his head at it, "Guess we're real lucky you came along when you did Spike".

"Yeah, strange how that worked out". A mental picture was forming in Spikes mind, he suspected Angel had been waiting to nobble David all the time, the other bloke's unfortunate dusting might have left them looking as red faced as vampires can manage. Still lucky old them, eh?

"Can't any of you blokes drive?"

They stared at him, Angel answered first. "When I want to go anyplace far off I find a peon or if my lucky a Yankee tourist. Scare him or her real bad, they drive me and when I arrive I don't need to hunt for awhile".

Then Dutch, "What's wrong with a horse, you can't beat a nice moon light ride?"

"I never had the time". Was all Pike replied.

*How awfully quaint* Was all Spike could think in response, *I found the bloody time, back in 1908*. That had been such fun, out most nights with minions he'd specially turned hot-wiring cars for the stupid bastards to teach him in. It had been a black year in Vienna's road accident statistics, and Munichs (were he'd finally got the hang of it) hadn't been much better.

Spikes hand went to his pocket and pulled out the fan belt. "My motor's on the edge of town, broken down. Lads much as I'd like to help you out, I've had it for years and I'd hate to leave it here".

"Don't worry amigo, you give me the keys and a note of were it is and I'll have some of the people of my village come get it for you". Angel slapped Spike on the back.

Spike felt the angst returning. "People of your village? You keep in touch?"

"With all the stuff we knock off, we don't have any use for, cars, stereos, personal cd players. They're the richest fucking peons in all Mexico". Dutch said. "Come in handy in the daylight though".

"But they help you willingly".

"Senor, behind my back they make the sign of the cross". Angel hastily and with a smile marked out the dread sign. "But fill a man's palm with silver often enough, and don't kill his children and he's yours for life".

With a sign Spike gave in. "Alright then my driving skill is all yours, show me the wheels".

"Angel, point Spike in the direction of our rig, and get him to run it down here. Dutch go drag that sorry bastard Dave down here". Pike straightened his tie, "I'll round up the boys and load up whilst its still dark".

Dutch went over to a nearby shed and pulled from it by main force a heavy wooden baulk. He broke it to a five foot length and put it over his shoulder. Noticing 3 curious Vamps looking at him he shrugged, "Guy could have broken legs or anything I might have to splint them". And with that strolled off.

Spike followed Angel thinking back to his westerns, *Rig, if its a fucking stage coach I won't be surprised*. But turning a corner into a small square he saw a damned big black 18-wheeled truck.

"Think you can handle her Senor?" Angel asked handing Spike the keys.

"Listen mate, there's not a vehicle built I can't handle". Though inwardly as he approached the cab he thought *I hope the roads of Mexico are quiet*.

Having figured out how the hell to clamber up the side, Spike was in and after opening the passenger door for Angel began the most important job of the trip for him, checking the UV protection. Plastic sheeting over all the glass, a professional job too, and the stuff was okay to see through, but even a pin sized hole could leave you smoking. Speaking of which Spike patted his pockets and pulled out an empty cigarette packet, and were was the carton of 500 he'd lifted the day before from the all night gas station whose clerks he'd killed, in the bloody De Soto.

"Got any fags mate?" He asked Angel. Who looked at him puzzled.


"Fags mate, you know coffin nails, lung torpedoes, smokes, cigarettes, any old tobacco will do". Spike shook the empty packet "Your drivers morale hangs in the balance".

"Not about me". Angel opened the glove box and pulled out a couple of packs of cigarettes. "But I saw were Tricks men hid theirs".

He threw them over.

"Take it you don't think they'll be needing them then".

Angel laughed, "Not were they're going". One of the packets being opened, both men took a cigarette and lit up. "So the Slayer, the light one, is she as beautiful as they say?"

There was a distant look in Spikes eyes as he responded, "Yes, she's one of the most beautiful girls I've ever seen. And with all that power in her, she does have a certain appeal".

"Do you love her Senor?". Angels voice was soft.

*Careful mate this is dangerous ground*. "Course not". Spike blew out a stream of smoke from his dead lungs. "She's the bloody Slayer, mortal enemy of my kind".

Angel looked at him and nodded, he drew in and exhaled nicotine. "When she is dead amigo, I will make sure el jefe lets you sire her, she'll look just the same and be a whole lot more fun to have around".

*Over my dead ashes!*. "Thanks, old son, I appreciate it. Do you like brunettes by the way?"

"The dark haired one, Faith no". The Mexican sat back in his seat. "The color of the hair does not matter so much, it is the whole, how might you say 'parcel' for me".

Spike nodded. He'd been a brunette man for decades, time for a change.

"I here that she has full lips, lips that could really suck". The Mexican glanced across at Spike.

Who took a second to realize that Angel wasn't talking about the second Slayer in a game faced way, the two men laughed together. "Yeah mate, and she's well stacked to, I'll return the earlier favor and let you have dibs on Faith, if that is you want a turned Slayer for a mate".

"Not for a mate Senor please". Angel looked mock aghast, "What's the fun in that for a vampire, but to break her in as a fledgling to work all those old remembered inhibitions out of her, that is the joy, is it not".

Spike nodded fake agreement, *Pal up to the bloke, might as well. And I'm really starting to hope I don't have to kill him*. He cast his mind back to before he'd begun decades of monogamy to gasps and moans of pleasure at new experiences that he had caused to come from the lips of scores of new lovers taken to the night.

He thought about Buffy, *wonder how far Angelus took her that night, just a basic shag or the more sophisticated stuff? Bet he thought he'd have lots of time to teach her. It'll be fun finding out*, then shook his head. *Getting way ahead of yourself here, Spike my boy*.

He stubbed out the remnant of his cigarette, and put the key in the ignition. "Well, let's get on with it".

"Si". Angel responded tossing his cigarette end out of the window.

Easily getting the beast into gear Spike amazed himself by not stalling, ok their progress was jolting at first but Angel didn't seem to mind. *Expect he thinks this is how people always drive*. He eased the truck round then reversed it into the street were his passengers waited, "Told you I could handle her". He bragged.

Pike had a couple of his banditos throw Lee into the back of the plastic lined cargo container, empty save for a small generator and the fridge he'd packed with blood.

"So where are the girls?" the little shit had asked him the previous night.

"Up in Tijuana were the greenback business is". He'd snarled in reply.

But Lee wouldn't go away, "So why all these old bandits, what you gonna do 'rustle some beeves'?"

Pike had considered his pistol, and the dents it could make in Lee's skull, but why risk throwing a good weapon out of true. "San Diego hospital boasts its got the biggest blood bank in the South West, I'm gonna make a withdrawal".

"Still robbing banks after the piss poor track record you had". And then wandered off laughing to his friends.

"Well you sure ain't laughing now". Pike murmured well satisfied with how things were moving.

As his troops piled aboard, Pike gazed up the street to see his old companero, Dutch, dragging Dave behind him. Glad I've still got him with me, best friend I've ever had. His throat tightened as he thought of Thornton, but that had been so long ago now. After all, once he found he had taken to riding with old man Sykes and Villa's forces, hadn't he let him live.

"Come on, you lazy old bastard". He shouted light heartedly. "We don't have all night".

"Keep your hat on Pike, I'm coming aren't I". Dutch was pulling Dave along by his arms, as he passed Pike noticed the vampires feet and lower legs were at decidedly odd angles.

After throwing his burden in the truck Dutch turned. "He must have been hit real hard, thighs busted from his knees to his hips, have to cut em off if you ask me".

"Give you something to do on the journey", Pike was laconic, he was looking around him taking things in.

Dutch understood his mood fully, "Why Mr. Bishop, looking at you I'd swear you don't want to leave old Mexico".

Pike bent down and took a handful of the dust that lay beneath him, he let it run through his fingers. Then decisively brushed his hands together. "Dutch we've squatted in this dust bowl long enough". He turned and smiled at his pardner, "I'd say it's time we go to meet the Ladies".

"Amen". Dutch touched the brim of his hat and climbed up into the vehicle.

Left alone now, Pike took a last fleeting glimpse around him, then looked up to Spike, who was leaning out of the cab door waiting for some indication they were "Bloody getting on with it".

Whipping of his Stetson and waving it Pike shouted, "Lets go!".

As the Brit gunned the engine, Pike climbed up, Dutch hauling him when his old gunshot wound slowed him. The truck pulled out even as they were still securing the containers doors.

*Ok. I arrive at Buffy's house, dozen red roses, nice bottle of wine. I luv you pet, these are for you. Oh and so are the 40 murderous Vamps I've got with me. Naah, she's not gonna like this one bit.* As they drove out of Torres, Spike turned to Angel. "Got a coin on you mate?"

"Si, why do you ask?"

"I'll toss you for who sets the stereo."