Chapter 5 - Exchange of Prisoners

"Anywhere along here."

The Bentley was headed south on Veteran Avenue and Gunn pulled over just short of Wilshire, a little past the entrance of the Los Angeles National Cemetery. Spike hauled Drusilla out of the back seat, across the sidewalk and stood her upright against the surrounding wall. He removed the gag, but left the tape on her wrists.

"Look, Dru," he said softly. "You know I still care about you."

"No, you don't. You're in love with that Slayer."

"Yes, but that doesn't mean I don't care about you. You're important to me, you probably always will be, which is why I'm telling you to lose that idiot you're with now."

"He's not an idiot."

"Baby, the problem with him is he's a bloody dilettante! Don't go thinking he's as good at this as I am or even as good as Angel was, he's not. Look at the way he lost control tonight! Not that you could, since you were unconscious, but I could and you can believe me. One little glitch and he fell straight into blood lust--not that that isn't attractive in its own way; I mean he's more your style than the chaos demon you left me for, who was way too cerebral for you--but he lost sight of his objective, had no back-up plan for crowd control, and staked one of his own men just because he was in a temper. Being a fiend is good, sure, but he's an incompetent fiend. If you stay with him, he'll get you killed. I don't want that to happen to you."

"If I don't stay with him, I'll be alone. I told you, I wanted you to come back with me," Drusilla said. "You should have. Now, Darla's gone, too, and I'm alone except for Adan."

"There are worse things," he told her, taking the money and the card from his jacket pocket. "Really, there are. Don't go back to him. Here's a couple of thousand, use it. If you need me, call here and leave a message." He took her evening purse. Inside were 21^st century basics: touch-up cosmetics and a cell phone. He put the money and the card with Ann's phone number inside.

"He'll be mad, he'll hurt me. I like that."

"What does he want to do?" Spike asked quietly, handing her back the purse.

"It's coming, not soon, not here, but we're going to end the world. I don't like it anymore. I want it all to end."

"Dru," Spike said, helplessly.

"And he needs me to do it."

"Baby, don't go back. You'll only get hurt." Spike got into the front seat beside Gunn.

After a long silence: "Did that do any good?" Gunn asked.

They were driving down Wilshire, heading back toward the hotel. Spike turned from the window. "I doubt it. I laid it on as thick as I dared, but she's not willing to listen to me and she just discounts or ignores anything she doesn't want to hear. I wish..." Spike didn't finish.

"Wait," Spike said.

"What for?"

"There's a noise. There," the vampire pointed at the trunk. "I thought this was noisy for a Bentley. There's something in there."

Gunn reached into the driver's dashboard and unlocked the trunk.

The boot shot open, and a replica of Guy Pearce dressed as if he had been part of a Tommy Hilfiger ad, scrambled out. His clothing was rumpled and creased, and consisted of a pair of OK dark blue jeans and a really nice V-neck cotton sweater. Regaining his feet, he headed for the street. Spike said, "Hey!" and moved to intercept him.

The man tried to dodge Spike, but the vampire got in front of him and started to say, "We just want to talk to you a minute," but the man suddenly grew a couple of inches and swiveled around Spike as if he were David Beckham and Manchester United were five goals behind. Unfortunately for him, Manchester United never played on oil slick concrete with leather soled shoes. The man skidded briefly and Spike tackled him. They rolled over and over on the dirty concrete.

Gunn ran up as the man got an arm free and hit Spike, whose grip slackened. The man was hitting Spike again as Gunn grabbed him and tried to twist his arm up behind him. Gunn put his other arm around the man's neck and pulled him up off Spike. The man let Gunn lift him, then shot up more than half a foot and gained fifty odd pounds. He kicked back at Gunn, aiming for the ex-troll's kneecap. Gunn twisted, releasing the man's neck and catching the kick on his thigh. The man got his foot tangled with Gunn's feet and they fell back, Gunn swinging around so they fell on their sides. The changer managed to hit Gunn in the eye, then to drive an elbow forcefully into Gunn's stomach, and finally to wriggle free. Regaining his feet, he headed straight for the street.

Spike got to his feet and tackled the man again. It was harder this time, because he was so much larger than he had been the first time. This time, Spike got a hand free first. The man's head snapped back. Shaking his head, the man suddenly shrank, displayed full vampire characteristics, and just as suddenly expanded again. Spike lost his hold on the man, who started to rise just as Gunn caught up with them.

Gunn, who couldn't see the vampire display, hit the man in the head from the side. Spike, regaining his focus, hit the man twice, then slowly got to his feet as the man sank down.

Together, the ex-troll and the vampire watched as the man on the ground shifted to a shorter, slimmer, dolichocephalic, golden skinned, blond youth, maybe in his early to mid twenties, if he'd been a human. His clothes were the same, but now the jeans were smudged and the sweater, originally natural, was dusty gray and black.

"Shape shifter."

"Yeah."

"Vampire, did you notice?"

"No. You sure?"

"Oh, yeah. It's not something I'm likely to mistake, you know. So how much of a shape-shifter is he?" Spike asked.

"Dunno."

"I mean how can we keep him around so we can talk to him?"

"Uh..."

"Can he shift to a bird and fly off? I mean, logic and conservation of mass aren't involved in magic, so why couldn't he be a bird?"

"Uh..."

"On the other hand, we could wrap him in plastic and sink him in a tank of holy water," Spike said, gesturing with both hands. "He can't breathe, so he has to stay a vampire, and since he's a vampire, he can't just rip off the plastic and swim in the holy water, which would be exactly like swimming in acid."

"Put him back in the trunk," Gunn said.

"Or we could put him back in the trunk," Spike agreed. "That seems to work OK."

Walking into the lobby of the hotel, they found Cordelia and Wesley already back. Cordelia was inspecting a shoe, holding it in one hand and the heel in the other. She had scratches and scrapes on her face and both arms. Her stockings were laddered and she had her bare foot up on the low table in front of the red sofas.

Wesley was looking at a rip in his pants leg. He had a twig on his left shoulder and a few leaves on his back.

"What happened?" Gunn asked.

"The hill got a little steep," Wesley said.

"We sort of fell the last couple of feet down to the service road," Cordy said. "We went out the back way. What happened to you?"

"We got away fine," Gunn said.

"And Drusilla?"

"We let her off not far from the Museum," Gunn said.

"But it turns out," Spike said, "there's a sort of complication with the car."

"Yeah," Gunn said, and explained.

"What do you mean, a shape-shifter?" Wesley said.

"Someone who shifts shapes."

"Like Arlack Armel?" Wesley asked the vampire.

"He didn't shift to anything resembling Arlack Armel," Spike said. "Also, he's a vampire."

"No," Wesley said. "Impossible."

"Unheard of, maybe," Spike said. "Impossible, no. I don't know if someone turned him, or if he just shifts to vampire."

"Fake vampires?" Cordelia asked.

"Fake real vampires?" Gunn offered.

"Why would anyone imitate a vampire?" Wesley asked.

"Can't drown," Gunn said. "And you're immune to poison gas, which would have been real handy tonight."

"Other vampires don't regard you as prey," Spike said.

"We have to do something with him, or decide to let him go, fast" Gunn said. "We need to lose the Bentley before the cops find it here."

"Can't he just ooze out of the trunk?" Cordelia asked. "Change into a worm or something."

"Doesn't look like," Gunn said.

"If we can get him to hold still, we'll ask," Spike said.

"We must examine this phenomenon," Wesley said.

"Right," Spike said. He wanted to talk to someone calm, someone reasonable, someone who didn't lose her head at the prospect of shape-shifters. He pulled the crystal sphere out of his pocket. "Ann."

Ann Grove, wearing dark green pants and a pale gray man-tailored shirt, appeared in the lobby. She was barefoot and wore her long black hair in a single braid down her back. A single platinum earring, in the shape of a complicated knot, was her only jewelry.

"Hi," Ann said. She smiled around at the four people in the lobby, then flicked her gaze straight up at Fred, peeping around the corner of the hallway that led onto the balcony.

Spike followed her eyes. "That's Fred. Fred," he called, "this is Ann."

"Hello, Fred," Ann said, then inspected the vampire. "Is that your blood?" she asked, nodding at his cuff, stained with Drusilla's blood.

"No, I'm fine."

She nodded again, then turned to Gunn, taking in his rumpled and no longer ivory tux and his eye, which was starting to swell. She walked over to him and stroked his face. A golden light flickered over the ex-troll as his bruises and cuts healed.

"Listen," Spike said. "We've got a shape-shifting vampire--"

"And I need to examine him," Wesley said. "This is new, he's new, and I feel I should examine him for the Watcher Council."

Ann went to Cordelia and took her hand. The light flickered again, and Cordelia's scrapes disappeared.

"--locked in the trunk of a stolen Bentley--"

"And we have to lose the Bentley, Gytha," Gunn said. "The sooner, the better."

"The farther, the better, too," Cordelia said.

"Especially," Wesley said, as Ann touched his face, "if Spike is right about how the vampires at the Museum acquired the car in the first place."

"--and we want to keep him around so we can find out what he knows about how and why Drusilla's newest lover is going to destroy the world. Can you help?" Spike finished.

Ann, done healing Wesley, frowned over at Spike. "Did you try talking to him before you locked him in the trunk?" she demanded.

"Hey!"

"Actually, to be absolutely fair, he was already in the trunk when we found him," Gunn said.

"When we let him out, he wanted to leave. We just put him back in the trunk," Spike said. "We do need to talk to him."

"Well, show him to me," Ann said. "And tell me a little more about what you were doing tonight."

"It started with Cordy's vision," Gunn said, and as they walked out to the rear parking area, he described the events of the past two days. At the end, Spike pulled out the handful of gems he had taken:

"So it's probably one of these."

"Cordy said that one," Gunn said, "the flat square one."

Spike handed it to Ann.

"Lovely color." She seemed lost in admiration of the stone for a moment, then, "Mind if I keep this?"

"I was thinking it would look good on Cordelia," Spike said.

"She does want a ruby, but that one still looks like Jell-O," Gunn said.

The gem vanished from Ann's hands.

Gunn and Spike lifted the man out of the trunk. At the moment, he was dark haired, pale skinned and gray eyed. He wore his hair long, in a tousled mop-top--rather like David E. Kelly's or Anthony Kiedis's--that covered his high forehead down to his eyebrows. His intelligent, triangular face narrowed from wide and prominent cheekbones

Each of them holding one arm, they displayed him to Ann, who inspected him carefully.

He inspected her in return.

Ann smiled at him cheerfully. "Let him go."

Spike and Gunn released the shifter and stepped back.

"I..." Ann started to say.

The shifter slipped out from between Spike and Gunn and, turning his back to Ann, started to run. Ann shrugged and stoned him.

"Now how is that any better than putting him back in the trunk?" Spike demanded with an angry wave at the new statue, standing posed behind the Bentley.

"He's certainly single minded about leaving," Ann admitted. "You were not precipitate; but I was. I apologize."

"Right, then. What else is there?" Spike asked, peering into the trunk. "This is empty."

"Briefcase," Gunn said, straightening up from the passenger compartment, displaying a fine maroon leather case.

"Nice," the blond vampire said.

"And it's full," Gunn said.

"We'll take that," Spike said. "Tell Cordelia to find the Viper keys and come out. She can follow me when I lose the Bentley."

"Bossy, aren't you?" Gunn said.

Ann laughed, then turned away and went to the other side the car and entered the passenger compartment.

Spike eyed him, then said: "I propose Cordelia--since she had the keys last, and with any luck, still knows where they are--follows me in the Viper while I dump the Bentley. You and Wesley could stay here with Ann and start looking over the contents of the briefcase and whatever else we find. I'm open to amendments or any reasonable alternate proposal."

Gunn was silent for a moment, very obviously thinking, then: "Sounds fine." He took the briefcase and went into the hotel.

Ann, holding an untidily folded freeway map and a pile of other maps and papers, came back to Spike. "Registration. A local address."

"Original owner, I'll bet; probably dead."

"I'll move the shifter to the lobby. When you and Cordy get back, we'll start questioning him. Cordy drives the Viper?"

"Surprised me too, but yes. She's an interesting, but basically competent, driver."

Chapter 6

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