“But, Angel,” Cordelia whines at me as I carefully snap shut the last of my suitcases. “You can’t go.”
“Yes, I most certainly can.” I run a hand across my face as take a last look around my bedroom. The clothes I want are packed and the books are already in the car. The laptop is by the door along with a few other odds and ends. My billfold is snug in my jacket pocket and my car keys are lying on top of the dresser. I hoist the strap for the laptop bag over one shoulder, scoop the keys up in one hand and lift the suitcases in the other and head out the door, Cordy right behind me.
“Seriously, we’re too busy for you pull this disappearing act right now. Wesley is worried about that prophecy in those scrolls you found last week, Gunn has a whole new set of weapons he wants to try out and Giles said something about maybe needing us in Sunnydale.” Cordelia’s striding right alongside me, a determined hand on my arm. I sigh and stop at the front door, setting down my suitcases and leaning on the wall.
“There’s nothing in that prophecy to be worried about, I talked to Wesley about it this morning. You know that Gunn’s simply trying to show off. I checked with Giles and there’s no need for us in Sunnydale any time soon. The Apocalypse, for once, is not around the corner, the accounts are all paid up and I am leaving. You’ve all known when I was leaving for the last six months so stop it.” I let out another sigh as Cordelia attempts to stare me down. You would think that she would realize that doesn’t work on me after all these years.
“Don’t you want to know how my audition goes tomorrow?” Oh, pulling out the big guns already, Cordy? That means she knows she’s lost.
“Of course I do. You have my cell number. Now, I’m leaving. I’ll be back in two weeks. If anything urgent comes up, call. Other than you, you all have a great time running the place without my interference. And, Cordelia, no, you cannot redecorate my room.” I smile a little as she rolls her eyes. She knows that she can’t stop me. She simply has to try.
“Won’t you at least tell me where you’re going? In case there’s a problem with your phone?” Now she’s trying the eye batting thing. I suppress a smirk with difficulty, that one’s new.
“I’m going on holiday. I’ll be back. Try not to burn the place down.” I drop a kiss to her cheek and head out the door, my spirits brightening as I step into the clear moonlight. I pop the trunk, throw the bags in and then slide behind the wheel. A press of a button and the top goes down, a quick step on the gas and I’m on my way. Two weeks of peace beckon to me as I head down the road and towards the highway. Two weeks that I need like I need blood to live. Two weeks of bliss to make up for the hell of the rest of my existence. I hit the highway and press the gas pedal to the floor. If I keep it steady at 100 I can be to his house in 74 minutes. And if a cop pulls me over, hells, I just might have to eat him.
I kill the lights as I turn onto his block, then cut the engine, put the car in neutral and try to approach as quietly as possible. Once, just once, I want to be able to sneak up on him. I’m a vampire, I should be able to you know. Really. I should. I’m a master of stealth, I’m quiet as the breeze, I’m. . .
“Hey, mate.” His voice rings in my ears as he vaults into the seat next to me.
“Fuck, Spike, shit.” I nearly throw my neck out whipping my head around to look at him. He has that shit eating grin on his face that makes me want to slap him, hard.
“Trying to sneak up on me again? Christ, you’re pathetic. You haven’t managed it once in the last 75 years and yet you persist. Isn’t that a bit psychotic?” He’s still grinning at me while he tries to light a cigarette. The wind is blowing and the flame from the lighter keeps dancing in the breeze and he can’t quite manage it. I pull to a stop in front of his place, throw the car in park and cup my hand around the flame.
“The challenge is part of the fun.” I don’t have to look at him to see the glare I know he shoots me.
“Nice set of wheels. When did you get this?” He’s leaning back against the door now, careful to keep the hand with the cigarette away from the leather. For all he likes to play at being an uncultured barbarian, he has a great appreciation for the finer things in life. Things like the Audi he’s sitting in right now.
“Last week. You like it?” I lean back to my side of the car and turn to watch his face. He merely nods and takes another drag on his cigarette. Ah, silence. He does like it. I knew he would. It reminds me of him. Sleek, powerful, agile with a lot more kick then you would think. We sit there for a minute, then his natural restlessness overcomes him and he hops out of the car.
“C’mon, let’s grab my stuff and get the fuck out of Dodge. Night’s awastin’.” He strolls onto the dilapidated porch of the abandoned house he’s now calling home. I pull myself out of the car and head in after him, noting once again the brilliant choice. The house is a mess, run down and worn, obviously abandoned for who knows how long. No one would be insane enough to claim this place for their own. I head through the foyer, turn left into the dining room and then go on through to the kitchen. The door to the cellar stairs is open and I head down. Cobwebs hang from the ceiling and I wince as one gets tangled in my hair. While I appreciate Spike’s attention to detail, perhaps this is a bit much. The cellar is slightly better with a bed and a couch and a junky old television taking up one corner, a small refrigerator another. Cigarette butts are scattered on the floor and some clothes are strewn about.
“Spike, you really should have become a set designer,” I call out as I head towards the door set in the darkest corner of the room. The door is set flush with the wall and, even knowing where to look, I almost miss the catch.
“Sod off,” I faintly hear him call as I pull the door open and head down the concealed set of stairs into Spike’s real home. The throbbing of the bass from the stereo begins to overwhelm me as I reach the bottom of the stairs. I love his place, it’s so perfectly him, the arrogant combination of aggression and art is intoxicating. The walls are painted jet black and the floor is gleaming white marble. The furniture is stark and modern and metal and leather and the chairs certainly weren’t designed for comfort. But from here I can just barely glimpse the bedroom and can just see the corner of the enormous king sized four poster bed. And the walls are hung with some of the paintings we picked up during our time in Europe, a Picasso, a Rembrandt sketch, a Monet study. I know I’m the only one who knows this is here. Of course I know, I helped him build the place. When he decided to stay in Sunnydale he went looking for a place that had what he needed. When he found it, he gave me a call. The renovation went quickly, it only took us about a week once the materials were finally in. It took him months to find a place in California with not only a basement but a sub-basement as well. I still worry about earthquakes from time to time, but the steel beams we put in the ceiling should hold.
“Bags are behind the couch, I only need a few things from the bathroom,” he hollers over the din of whatever it is that he’s playing. Getting the soundproofing right was a bitch. I snag the bags and pull them over to the stairs then head into the kitchen. I open the refrigerator door, grab a couple of bottles of water then head for the bathroom.
“Right, toothbrush, mouthwash, aftershave,” I stand back and watch him mutter as he moves about.
“Don’t forget the,” I call out as he turns and holds up a handful of tubes triumphantly.
“Figure that should last until tomorrow.”
I roll my eyes and move aside as he exits the bathroom. He pads into the bedroom, glances around, nods once then heads back to the living room. There he stops, spins in a slow circle, arms spread wide, eyes narrowed.
“That should be everything.” He grabs a huge cd folder from off the couch and shoulders one of the bags. I grab the other and head up the stairs. Spike kills the lights as we reach the top, then tugs the door firmly shut. A few quick twists of his wrist and the door is locked tight behind us. We head out, dump his bags in the trunk then settle into our seats. A strong hand on my wrist stops me as I go to turn the key in the ignition.
“Wait, I think we’re forgetting something,” he states, staring straight at me.
“What, Spike,” I groan. I want to get going. I want out of here. I want our holiday to begin in earnest. “What could we have forgotten?”
“This,” he replies as he slides across the seat, grasping the back of my neck and pulling me to him. My lips meet his and he kisses me hard. I open my mouth for him and he plunges into me, kissing me deeply and firmly and like the world is going to end if he ever stops. My hands are buried in his hair as I kiss him back. A sharp breeze kicks up and we pull back, suddenly aware once again of where we are. This is not the place to do that.
“Drive, Angelus.” He pulls away from me with a swipe of his thumb along my lower lip. I nod, start the car and we fly off into the night, the sounds of the Sex Pistols filling the air as he starts to play with the cd changer. We’re on our way and our holiday has finally started.
"I want to drive."He let me choose the last two cds. He’s only smoked two cigarettes since we left. He’s been quiet for the last five minutes. I knew it was too good to last.
"No, Spike." There is no way I’m letting him drive this car. Not after what he’s done to all my other ones."I. Want. To. Drive."
He’s giving me that petulant glare of his. I can feel it on the side of my neck. I am strong. I will not give in.
"No."
"We'll get there faster. You drive like an old lady. Not that you aren't old. Oh, so that's the problem. I always wondered what it was."
Oh, insults now. I am mature. I am above this. I will act like the adult that I am.
"Shut up, Spike. You are not getting to drive." Oh, that was witty.
"I'm a much better driver than you are."
"In what possible universe is that? You totaled my last three cars." I can hear the outrage in my voice. Seriously, how could he possibly believe he’s a better driver than I am.
"That's because you were giving me a blow job each time."
"Oh. Well, there is that."
I have to admit, that is a good point. And it’s nice to know that I can get to him like that.
“Angel, you have to let me drive. Seriously, we aren’t going to get there before sunrise at this rate.”
He pulls out a cigarette and lights up pointing at the clock on the dash as he does so. I glance down and hiss. 2:45. And we have at least five hours to go, even though we are averaging about 90.
“Spike, we won’t make it even if you do drive.” I sigh, I really wanted to get in tonight. Who knew we were going to get stuck in traffic like that. “Why don’t we go for another couple of hours then stop somewhere? That way we’ll only have a few hours to go tomorrow.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Spike might have the attention span of a gnat most of the time, but he is nothing if not realistic. There’s no way we’re getting in tonight and there’s no point in wasting time on the road tomorrow. Besides, it’s a beautiful night and the top’s down and the stars are shining bright.
“You can have control of the cd player,” I offer as an apology. That perks him up and I immediately begin to regret my decision.
“Right. How about some Black Flag?”
I simply shake my head as he begins to scream along, volume pumped to ear shattering levels. I’m smiling so widely my face hurts.
It’s almost 6:00 when we pull into some type of truck stop. It’s not luxurious but it looks clean. And really we don’t have much of a choice. The sun’s coming up in bit and we have to get inside. Spike stretches as he gets out of the car, then casts a wary eye around.
“Best take all our luggage inside. I doubt that the car will be here when we wake up.”
Looking around, I have to agree. This isn’t in the best neighborhood. “Good idea. We’ll have to take our chances with the car.”
We head into the little lobby area and a bleary eyed young woman comes slouching out in response to the bell.
“Can I help you?” She tries to stifle a yawn but doesn’t quite succeed.
“We need a room.” Spike’s leaning against a wall, yawning as well. Looking at the two of them is making me tired.
“All we have left is a room with one king size bed.” She looks at us with a small smile as if to apologize.
“That’s fine, we can bunk together for one night.” I shoot Spike a glare as I answer, daring him to make a comment. He simply smirks at me as I hand over my credit card. The clerk heads into the back room to run the card.
“Don’t even say it,” I growl softly at him.
“Say what, I’m standing here being all innocent,” he replies, eyes wide in mock outrage.
“Innocent, my ass,” I snort back at him as the girl returns.
“Promises, promises,” he whispers in my ear, trailing a hand along my back as he moves towards the door. I take the keycard, thanking the clerk absently. I cast a wary glance at the sky. The first faint tinges of dawn are imminent. We grab our stuff and dash to the room, tumbling inside as I shove the door open. The bags are dropped with a loud crash and then Spike whips around, staring me dead in the eye.
“So, one bed, huh? Who gets the floor?” He licks his bottom lip slowly as the duster slides off his shoulders and falls to puddle at his feet.
“I think,” I mutter as I step towards him, snaking an arm around his waist, “the better question is who gets the bottom?” His arms slide up my chest and he links his fingers together behind my head.
“Hmmm,” is his only response as I lean down and devour his mouth. This, this is what I’ve been aching for in the long, lonely months without him. This taste, this feeling, this desperate merge of our bodies. He’s writhing in my arms, rubbing his entire body against me, frantically trying to embed his scent in my skin. I’m just as frantic, tearing at his shirt. I want it off, I want the feel of that cold flesh pressed against me NOW. But I don’t want to have to stop kissing him. He solves the problem for me by reaching back, putting a hand to the collar of the t-shirt and ripping it off his body. His other hand is busy with the buttons of my shirt and it quickly slides off me.
Our moans echo in the room as we press together chest to chest, skin to skin, mouths still locked together. I’ve never been so grateful that neither of us have to breathe as I am at that moment. He begins to walk us backwards and I crack an eye to watch as he leads us to the bed. The comforter look clean enough. The back of his calves hit the mattress and he throws himself backwards, pulling me down on top of him. I’m lying there, pressing him into the mattress, hips moving in point and counterpoint. It’s intoxicating. It’s exhilarating. It’s going to be over very, very soon. I can’t wait. And I don’t think he can either. There will time enough for softness and sweet words later. Now, now I need to fuck him through the wall.
“Pants. Off. Now.” I manage to tear my mouth away long enough to growl out my command. He snarls back at me, eyes flashing gold. I snarl right back at him, snapping my fangs as I do so. He smiles suddenly, then stretches back on the bed and drops his hands to his fly as I lift off him enough to give him room to maneuver. Another hiss escapes me as the back of his hand brushes my erection. It takes all my will not to grind into his hand.
“Patience, my sweet.” He whispers as he slowly unbuttons his jeans then eases the denim down his legs. His boots have come off, I’ve never managed to figure out how he does that, and he’s lying spread naked below me. He’s naked and I still have my pants on. I mewl low in the back of my throat as his hands ease up my thighs and to my zipper. “Need some help?”
I nod, once, then he yanks my zipper down and practically rips my slacks off me. I kicked my shoes off the second we walked in the door. I roll my hips against his, rubbing the silk of my boxers against his erection. It’s his turn to whimper now. He loves the trace of silk on his skin.
“Want to feel me? Do you need to feel me?” I murmur into his neck as I nip up and down that smooth expanse. I long to bury my fangs in that porcelain smoothness, but not yet. Not yet. We’re both wound so tight that’ll be all it takes. I grasp his erection and slowly pump him while bathing his right nipple with long, hot laps of my tongue.
“Naked. Now.” I smile around the flesh in my mouth. His eyes are glowing yellow in the faint light beginning to fill the room as the sun starts to rise. I take his left hand and guide it to my waist. He grasps the fabric and tugs down. I help him work the boxers off my legs and then settle back down on top of him, luxuriating in the slide of our skin. We’re both sweating slightly and the moisture slicks us up perfectly. He plunders my mouth again as my hands return to his hair. He tastes of cigarettes and blood and lust and love. He is the sweetest thing I’ve ever tasted.
“Duster, need my duster,” he begins to chant as he pulls away. He flips us over and straddles my legs as he bends back to snag an edge of the coat. My throat squeezes shut as he body is pulled taut as he bends. He’s built so perfectly, even muscle long and sleek and in perfect proportion. Michelangelo would have sold his soul to sculpt him. His abs pull taught as leans back up, leather in his hands. He rummages through the pockets, cursing softly at his inability to find what he wants. What I need. With a triumphant cry he presses the lube into my hand and settles back onto my chest. The weight of him centers me for a moment, then I nod and flip open the tube.
The only sound in the room now is that of his moans and my whimpers as I slick my fingers and slide two into him. He’s so tight, he’s always so tight. He moves restlessly as I scissor my fingers and I know what he’s about to say.
“I don’t want to hurt you.” I nip at his collarbone as I say this, pushing away the memories of all the times when the opposite was true.
“Don’t care.” He suddenly lunges upwards and pins my hands to the bed. He glares down at me, fangs gleaming, sweat dripping off the end of his nose. “Just do it.”
I may fight for the side of good, but I’m no saint. I throw him off me, flip him onto his stomach and settle between his legs in one smooth move.
“This what you want, boy?” I growl out as I press just the tip of my cock into his ass. I begin to growl as I struggle to keep from simply impaling him. I long to, how I long to. But right now I need him to beg.
“Yes,” he moans, thrashing under me and trying to thrust upwards to take more in. I have one hand firmly in the small of his back, preventing him from moving.
“You sure?” I slide in the slightest bit more and nearly bite through my lower lip trying to hold back a moan.
“Yes. Fuck me. Please, fuck me.” His voice cracks on the please and that’s all it takes. I slam into him, pulling a howl from his lungs. I pump in and out fiercely, frantically with no rhythm or finesse. We’ll get to that later. Now is nothing but pure need. The hand on his back moves to bury itself in his hair, I adore his hair, while I slide the other under him and begin to fist his cock. He pumps back and forth under me, thrusting back to meet me and forward into my hand. I feel his balls pull up, know he’s close and bend over his back.
“Mine. You’re mine, Spike, never forget that,” I whisper into his ear right before burying my fangs in his neck. He explodes in my hand as his blood pours down my throat. That’s all I need and I shatter as I spill inside him. It goes on and on and I feel like it will never end. I don’t ever want it to end. Finally I topple on top of him and we lie there for who knows how long.
“Get off me, you lump. You’re heavy.” He bucks beneath me and I slide off him. He stirs then pushes himself up with shaky arms. He pads naked to the bathroom as I greedily follow him with my eyes. I hear the shower start and then the splashes as he begins to wash.
“You getting in here or what, you silly bugger. If you are, best be quick, I seriously doubt there’s much more hot water left.”
I grin and head into the bathroom, hands itching to run over his flesh again.
I wake to find Spike's head pillowed on my shoulder, one arm wrapped around my waist and his legs tangled together with mine. He's still asleep, I can tell. The usual energy that thrums through him is at its lowest ebb at the moment and he is as still as he ever is. Which means that his hands are twitching and his feet are kicking and he's shifting slightly back and forth. His hair is sticking straight up in ways he would never allow when awake and his mouth is slightly open. It is times like this that an overwhelming surge of possessiveness, a fierce and mighty "MINE" pounds in my mind. He is mine. No matter how far we go, nor matter how much we hate one another, in the end he is mine.
Of course, and as he well knows the utter bastard, I am just as much his. He has me wrapped around that elegant little finger of his. He doesn't often reveal how truly he knows he controls me. Only sometimes, when he says or does some horrific thing and I muster all my authority and bellow "William." Only then does he betray himself by the arch of an eyebrow and a faint twitch of his lips. Bastard. He only does those things because he knows what it does to me. And that the moment we are alone I'll be fucking him through the nearest surface. Oh, yes, he knows me well, does this demon childe of mine.
I can make out a sliver of dark blue through the crack of
the curtains. Night will fall soon and then we can finally finish our trip. I
carefully ease my way out of his arms, vaguely disappointed at how easily he
lets me go. I look around, smiling at the mess around me. Yet another hotel
room torn to pieces. Clothes everywhere, a broken lamp. The mirror,
thankfully, didn't shatter when he threw me into it earlier this morning. I
scrounge through our clothes, finally finding my coat and pulling out my phone
and billfold. I duck into the bathroom and dial, looking down at the sheet with
our reservation information.
"Yes, I need to confirm that my suite is still being held, we were to
be there last night but ran into some delays during our trip. The name is Liam
William." I quickly run a hand through my hair, feeling how disheveled it is.
That's another nice thing about being together, there's finally someone who can
tell you in the morning whether or not you look all right.
Only a few moments pass before the cultured voice returns, "Mr. William, yes, everything is still set. We had your card on file and you did mention that you may be delayed. Will you be arriving this evening, sir?"
"Yes, probably around 10. Can you make sure that the drapes are set, my companion is a very light sleeper and it's essential that we be able to block out all light."
"Of course, sir," comes the prompt reply. "We look forward to your stay. Simply call if you have another other needs."
I thank the man and hang up, sighing contentedly. Ah, four-star service. Why on earth did I ever give it up?
I head back into the room, fully intending to wake Spike. But just as I reach out to do so, Spike rolls onto his back, an arm draped across his eyes, the sheets spilling off his body. My chest tightens and my hand pauses mid-reach. Gods. By all that's holy. He may be the most perfect thing I've ever seen. Truly. The flawless skin. The sharp, defined edge of his muscles. The tapered fingers. The long, lean expanse of his neck. That neck. Oh, that beautiful, beautiful, beautiful neck. Even if I weren't a vampire I think I would have a fixation on his neck. Hell, I think everyone he meets has a fixation on his neck. The strong, smooth column of his throat. The almost translucent skin creasing his Adam's apple. That soft spot below his jaw on the left side that make him lose all control and begin to spit out venomous curses when bit.
And then there are his lips. The foulest language and most tender words both trip out, oftentimes in the space of seconds. And yes, he knows how to use those lips, the perfect way to mold them around me, to trail them across my skin, to drive me insane with the merest brush against my own.
"You done staring, or should I stay here a bit more? Really, I don't mean to interrupt, don't mind me, I'll just lay here and let you obsess."
Damn him. Damn him. Damn him. "I wasn't obsessing," I sigh as he drops the arm and gives me an incredulous stare. "I was appreciating."
"So I can see," he grins, sitting up and catching my waist. He tugs me down, shifting so that I'm lying pressed into his side.
"So," he mutters into my mouth as he slowly traces my lips with the tip of his tongue, "are we leaving soon."
"Hmmm," I reply, completely distracted.
"You know," now the words skim across my throat as he makes his way down my neck. "Leaving. Going away from this lovely shit hole to whatever other lovely shit hole you've booked us into."
"Leaving, yeah, um, we should," I try to push him away but we both know my heart's not in it.
"Right, right, we'll be on our way. In a minute. Just let me take the edge off this for you." And then I have to bite back a scream as he dives down and sucks me into his mouth. Talented tongue, cool cool mouth, those lips, those lips moving down and around and I know, I know exactly what they'll look like when he comes back up, so swollen and bruised pink. He gives a gentle scrape with his teeth, just enough, just exactly what I need and I begin to howl. I can feel the grin around my cock.
"You little shit."
"Hmnmmm," he merely hums in response. Suddenly, he presses two fingers in me, unerringly hitting the right spot.
"Shit, shit, fuck, not gonna, oh not fair, you wait, just you wait, oh shit," I pant out as he works me fast and hard. He merely opens his mouth wider and gives one long, long never-ending suck. I shatter under his hands and come, the scream caught in my throat.
"So, you about ready to go," he purrs against my thigh. I bat ineffectually at his shoulders, trying to pull him up.
"Not yet. I think that I'm not the only one who needs the edge off." He grins against my leg, he fingers still twisting inside me, his way of asking. It's funny, for as blunt as he is, there are times he's still shy. At least with me.
"Whatever you want," I whisper as I reach down and stroke his hair. "You know that, William." He simply presses a kiss to my thigh, then pulls back, his fingers slipping out of me. I realize with a start that I never even noticed him using the lube, so lost in the sensation of his mouth.
"How do you," his eyes drop shut as he slicks himself quickly.
"Any way you like," I reply, already rising and bending on my hands and knees. He likes me best this way he let slip one night when he was drunk enough to tell the truth. He admitted that he loves my back. And this way he can run his hands along my muscles while buried inside me.
"That's, that's good," the words are buried in my hair as both of us begin to moan slightly as he rocks his way inside. He stays still for a moment, cool fingers dancing along my spine. Then he pulls back and thrusts forward fiercely, the bed creaking as we begin to move. He pounds into me, sweat splashing on my skin as he keeps up the relentless pace.
I brace myself on one hand, then reach up and begin to quickly stroke. It's going to be close, I can feel the tempo of his thrusts begin to tatter and I clench tightly, handling myself violently. Suddenly, he leans down and begins to scrape his fangs along the back of my neck. That's it. That's all I need, the last little push. I come again, slightly slower this time. He goes still behind me, then I can feel him shudder and he's coming, filling me deeply. He falls onto my back, a sudden dead weight and it takes all my strength to keep from collapsing.
We pause there both still shuddering, then he pulls out and falls face first onto the bed. I settle down next to him and we lie there for a moment, gathering our wits.
"Right. Definitely need a shower now." Spike quickly slaps my ass as he sits up. "You stay here. We'll never leave if you come in with me."
"I know." He pads off to the bathroom and I'm treated to a wonderful view of that perfect ass.
"Leave me some hot water this time," I yell after him. His reply is incomprehensible but I'm sure profane. I manage to stagger off the bed and begin to throw our clothes into a suitcase.
"You stay here. I'll check out. Don't touch anything." He blinks at me innocently and I just roll my eyes. Traveling with Spike is like traveling with a very large, very violent, very very sexy two year old trapped in a man's body. Wait. That's exactly what traveling with Spike is. Traveling with an enormous two year old trapped in an adult's body. I would tell him this but he would take it as a compliment.
I quickly handle the mundane business of checking out, apologize for the broken lamp, shrug as they add the cost to the bill. When I make my way back outside, I groan. Spike's sitting behind the steering wheel.
"No, William. You are not driving. Get out." I try to stare him down, even as I know the futility of the gesture.
"Do you want to get to San Francisco while it's still early enough to do something tonight?" I hate it when he has a good point.
"Fine. You drive. Try not to hit anything." I drop into the passenger's seat and brace myself.
"I'll be fine. Just keep your hands, and mouth for that matter, to yourself." He lights a cigarette then steps on the gas and we go flying into the night.
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