All I Need...

* * * * * * * * *
Part 3

Bloody Uganda. Hot, judging by the smell of sweat rolling off of the other ‘guests’. Fucking sunny.

Once again, Spike found himself wondering what the hell he’d been thinking. It had been one thing to come here deliberately to get his soul, but this time? Still, it was plenty far away from LA, wasn’t it? And maybe that was a good enough reason in and of itself. Add in the fact that he was on an unlimited expense account that allowed him to stay in the five hundred dollar a night room and…

Yeah, it wasn’t that bad. Besides, there were enough trees about that he could actually lose himself in the forest at high noon if he wanted to… assuming he could make it to the trees to begin with, what with the large cleared area around the hotel. “Safari Lodge,” he reminded himself, “That’s what they call it here, even if it is a bloody enormous soddin’ hotel.”

Pale, full lips twitched into a smirk as he sipped his beer, looking out at the pool from his spot by the bar. Yeah, the days could be a bit on the boring side, but the nights… oh, the nights were brilliant. The heat dropped a bit, just enough that no one raised so much as a brow when he strolled off into the darkness. Not that he cared what the bloody happy meals thought, but he’d drawn enough attention with his aversion to sunlight, hadn’t he?

He usually ended up near the falls, standing as close as he could while the thunderous pounding literally shook the earth, his head back, staring up at the sky… unless he was hunting with the Spithrad demons who lived nearby, not that the humans hereabouts seemed to notice.

How his dark princess would love this place. The stars were so bright and there were what looked like millions of them. Yeah, Dru would be dancing here, swirling wildly with her particular brand of maniacal glee. Then again, she did that anyway and he had to admit that it was a relief to be here on his own. He’d loved his Sire; still did and probably always would, but… he’d changed too much to be her boy. Besides, it wouldn’t much of an escape if she were there and he was tied to looking after her, daft as she usually was. Hiding the bodies alone… he shuddered slightly. His wicked plum had never been terribly fastidious that way.

“I’ll have another, pet,” he nodded to the woman behind the bar.

And again he found himself wondering why Africa. He hadn’t even thought about the dark bloody continent since…

He shook his head, taking a sip of the new beer in front of him. No point thinking about that. He’d told the little git not to tell anyone he was back and obviously nobody had cared when the foolish prat had broken his silence. Which was, Spike figured, about five seconds after he and his merry band of Slayers-in-training had flown off into the night with the nutty bint.

Yeah, the old gang didn’t give a rat’s ass about him; not even good old Droopy Harris, regardless of the fact that he’d thought they’d at least become friends towards the end there. And yet the bloke hadn’t even bothered to send a ‘glad you got your arms back’ card or anything. Prat.

Obviously he’d been wrong. They’d never been friends.

“Doesn’t matter,” he growled to himself. “Don’t need a bloody friend, do I? Doin’ just fine on my own. Nice room, good booze. Titanium AmEx. Could be worse, right?” He nodded sharply. “Right,” he answered himself, ignoring the sensation of being watched. He was always being watched, after all. He was a bloody good looking bloke, wasn’t he?

His eyes shifted to the door of the bar as it opened and he swallowed the remainder of his drink quickly. “Here, mate,” he called out, waving at the human-looking but not human smelling bloke with the cooler. “Gramps take care of ya or do ya need payment?”

“Taken care of,” the delivery man told him in a high, girlish voice. “Call when you need more.”

“Count on it,” he agreed with a nod, slipping fifty dollars American into the bloke’s pocket. “Taa, mate.”

And that was his blood taken care of. Good thing, too. He was almost out.

“Right, then,” he nodded at the bartender, tossing her a grin, “Guess I’m off, pet. Charge th’ room, yah?”

And now he had a plan for the rest of the day. Blood. Shower. No, better to have a bath. Then nap, maybe watch a bit of telly. He was fairly certain there was a football game going somewhere… Argentina versus someone, he thought.

Yeah, it was a good plan, Spike told himself as he slipped away from the bar and headed to his room.

* * * * *

“Okay, what do we got?” Xander demanded bluntly, pulling the binoculars from the Watcher in the trees.

“You just missed him, Mr. Harris,” the Afrikaner greeted him in his somewhat stilted accent. “I believe the… impostor has repaired to his lodgings.”

“Right. Do we know which room? Can we get at it… get a good view of it, I mean.”

“Are you up for a bit of a climb, sir?”

“Oh, yeah. And even if I wasn’t, I’d do it anyway. Whoever this guy is, he’s gonna pay. Lead on.”

* * * * *

If the Watcher was surprised by his ability to climb, twist, contort and stretch without even breaking a sweat as they made their way around the resort in the trees over rocks, fallen trunks, and assorted other impediments, the man had the decency not to show it.

“Here,” he finally announced, stopping himself and the young white man. He crept from the foliage, slipping closer to the hotel until they were in position beside a truly huge boulder near the pool. “Directly across, Mr. Harris. Top floor, three rooms from the left.”

“Right. Thanks,” he allowed, already forgetting the other man’s presence as he searched for the proper room and focused the binoculars carefully. “I’ll take it from here. Send Giles a bill for the binoculars, okay?”

“Yes, sir.” The guide shrugged and returned the way he’d come. If the young man didn’t require his presence, he had other things to do… like train his Slayer. She was more independent than he was comfortable with.

* * * * *

“Bored, bored, bored, bored, bored… maybe I should just go back to bloody Los Angeles.” Spike snorted. “For all of a minute before soddin’ Angel gets on my bloody nerves and makes me want ta stake myself. Repeatedly.”

He strolled through his room, blunt nails scratching his stomach just above the towel he wore draped around his hips. At least the sun would be down soon. It was already setting, in fact. He could see the shadows spreading over the pool as the bulk of the ‘Lodge’ blocked it a bit.

He ran fingers through damp blond hair, stepping out onto his balcony and stretching high, sighing his satisfaction as his spine popped all along its length, then glanced around, trying to figure out who was watching him this time, sure that for once that it wasn’t the dozy cow on the other arm of the place. He’d gotten to know how her eyes felt on him and he’d be damned if she’d ever get more than just her eyes on him.

Of course, just because that particular bint was a sodding nightmare, that didn’t mean he couldn’t find himself some other bit to shag. Might be nice, he figured. Hell, it had been ages since he’d had a good shag.

“Yah,” he chuckled to himself, mood shifting quickly, “That’s the thing. Get myself all tarted up, hit the bar later. Never know what I might find.”

His smirk was sly with an undertone of hopefulness. Maybe… just maybe there’d be someone there worth his while.

He stretched one more time before turning and heading back inside to dress.

* * * * *

“Shit,” Xander whispered, the binoculars dropping from his hands to land hard on the rocky ground. He barely heard the small sound of glass cracking as he tried to understand, tried to wrap his mind around what he’d seen.

It really looked like Spike, right down to the cheekbones and the scarred eyebrow. Even the muscles were right, he knew, remembering the vampire strolling around the apartment half naked back in the day.

He wasn’t sure of whether he was more furious or impressed that whatever the thing was, it had obviously done its homework. If he hadn’t known for a fact that Spike was dead, burned beyond even leaving ash behind, he would have bought it. Would have believed.

So now he knew. The only question was, what was he going to do about it?

It took him a minute or two, but finally Xander realized something.

Whoever or whatever the thing impersonating Spike was, it didn’t know him. He could check in himself, get a room… maybe even befriend the whatever and find out what exactly it was up to… and why it had chosen Spike to imitate.

Assuming its purpose wasn’t something nefarious, he’d let it live. He’d hurt it—a lot—for having the nerve to wear that particular face, but he’d let it live. Once it promised to never look like Spike again.

He really hoped whatever it was was benign, or at least that its intentions were. He wasn’t entirely certain that he could kill something that looked like his… His what?

“Friend,” he told himself simply, ignoring the tiny sense of betrayal the word created within him. “He was my friend. And I still miss him.” And at least the last part was entirely true.

* * * * *
(A/N: Many thanks to Fenris Mourningstar (wonderful FB and MUCH appreciated!) and TheShadowCat (Faith is somewhere in South America, I think... as is Robin. One or both of them MAY be making an appearance later, but no promises. LOL) for the FB! Thanks SO much!)