Willow stood frozen in the middle of the bar, trying to scope out her surroundings without being too obvious about it. Nobody had menaced her yet, if she didn't count the snarky doorman. She hadn't expected Elvis Presley on the jukebox, but the pool game in the corner fitted her preconceptions of a biker bar. There were a lot of people in here for 3:30 in the morning. None of them seemed overly interested in her, but was a loud argument going on by the jukebox.
She couldn't see Giles, Angel, or Cordelia anywhere else, which meant she'd have to check out the argument.
"I didn't say that that particular poem didn't make sense to me. I simply liked the Mallarmé poem better. And I don't care if he could beat Pasternak in a fight."
That sounded like Angel. Willow sighed in relief.
"You sayin' he couldn't? Or don't you care to share your expertise on the matter with us?"
"Byron, lay off. You've been a peeve all week, ever since I wouldn't say that your so-called Laforgue homage was anything but lame. I'm bored to a coma with you."
"Oh, right Zuzu. You know what your problem is? You have the emotional attention span of a gnat. There's a psychological term for that --"
"Byron, dear, please hold that thought before you get yourself into big trouble." An older woman rose from the table. "And if you two can't stop bickering, you might as well give it up tonight . . . Did you want something, honey?"
Willow realized that the woman was looking at her. She blushed. "I-I, er, was looking for Mr. Giles."
"Sorry, hon, don't know anybody --"
"Willow?" Giles stood up. "How did you get in?"
She smiled at him. "I was the only one with a tattoo -- temporary, I mean." She held up her arm, then flashed it around to make sure everyone saw it.
"Well, thank God," Cordelia said. "We can finally get out of here."
"Let the girl catch her breath, dear. She looks a little shaky." The woman caught Willow under the elbow and guided her to a chair. "Byron! Other beer here!"
"No, really," Willow huffed. "I'm fine. I just suddenly got this headache."
"Beer'll take the edge off," one of the male bikers said, kindly. "3 AM in th' morning, gets you every time."
A tall, young biker in a black leather jacket set a bottle in front of her.
"Coors?" The brown-haired woman who was sitting next to Giles looked indignantly at the bartender. "What the hell are you thinking, Byron?"
"Hey!" said Byron. "It's the only 3.2 beer I've got back there."
"Get the kid a Dos Equis," a bearded biker said. "We don't want to poison her."
"Dos Equis?" the younger woman biker said. "Not only are you tone deaf, Rio, but your taste buds are shot."
"Right." Rio snorted derisively. "This from a woman who drinks Kamchatka and Kool-Aid while reading Hermann Hesse."
The elder woman biker looked at her younger counterpart. "Oh, Zuzu. You didn't."
Zuzu scowled daggers at Rio. "I was in a funk that night. Okay?"
"You sure were." Byron set a tall bottle in front of Willow and popped off the cap for her. "You were also watching a video of 'Sleepless in Seattle' and bawling your head off."
Zuzu wrapped her fingers around his throat and slammed him down on top of the table. "All right, Mr. Memory," she snarled. "Now for the Bonus Question: What did I say I'd do to you if you ever told anybody about that?"
Rio snickered. "Something to do with a pair of pruning shears, if I recall."
"What's wrong with 'Sleepless in Seattle'?" Willow said. "I cried, too."
Everybody looked at her.
"Oh, hell," Zuzu muttered, and let loose of Byron. He slid warily off the table and regained his chair.
"Isn't anybody going to fight? Or get out some pruning shears?" said one of the oddly dressed girls, who was clinging to Giles' arm. He was attempting to peel her off; but since the attempt already had pressed him too close to Zuzu, he wasn't having much luck with it.
Zuzu stared at Willow moodily. "You favor the Early French Romantic poets," she said. "Right?"
Willow looked to Giles for reassurance. He shook his head at her emphatically. "Well -- not really," she said, trying frantically to guess what he wanted her to say. She took a long swig of beer to give herself time to think. A bright idea: "I like Baudelaire's poetry."
This had a definite, but disconcerting effect. Rio beamed at her. The balding biker, however, was shaking his head. The elder woman had her face pressed into her hands, as if in pain. Giles looked as if he wanted to slide under the table; apparently that wasn't one of the things he wanted her to say.
"Must be some connection between that movie and certain over-rated poets," the bald biker said with a smirk.
"Hey," Angel said. "I happened to like that movie."
The girl with the purple flower on her cheek started giggling uncontrollably. Zuzu reached across Giles, wrapped the girl's love beads around her fist and yanked her in close. "There's nothing to laugh about here, Sunshine," she said. "Do you see anybody else laughing?"
"Kick her butt, Viola," said the oddly-dressed boy on the other side of the table.
Cordelia shoved the boy away and got up. "I'm going to the Ladies Room," she said. "Again. Will one of you come get me when we're all ready to go?"
Angel leapt up. "I'll go with you." At a look from her, he amended, "I've still got two turns left on my pinball game."
"Some breathing room, please, ladies," said Giles, trying to pry the two women apart and out of his lap. Zuzu let go, only to have Viola attach herself back onto Giles' arm. The two women locked glares.
Zuzu grabbed another wad of napkins and beginning again to shred. "I'm going to recite a Pasternak poem now," she said. "While I'm doing that I want everybody to clasp their hands before them in silent appreciation. If they don't I'll assume they don't have the proper respect for my man, and I'm gonna take the appropriate action."
"Damnit!" Spike pounded on the steering wheel. "Why does that friggin' Slayer keep popping up like something in a bloody 'Whack-a-Mole' game? She's supposed to be down the road at a Taco Bell."
"Want us to go whack her, boss?" one of his henchmen volunteered. His colleagues glared at him.
"Yeah --" Spike growled, then "No, wait. That's their car parked on the other side of the lot. A couple of you go over and make a work of it. Don't let's be quiet about it."
Grinning viciously, several of the henchmen poured from the Thunderbird, brandishing tools of automotive torture.
"The rest of you, be ready to follow me in."
Buffy and Xander stood outside the 'Hog Wild', waiting.
"I wonder if she's having any trouble," Xander said anxiously. He tried to peer further inside, but the doorman moved his chair to block the doorway.
"Come on," Xander said. "I've got a cowboy hat. That should be good for something."
The grizzled old man looked at him thoughtfully. "Well -- Do you know the theme to 'Rawhide'?"
"If I do, will you let us in?"
"Let's hear it, kid."
Xander frowned, biting his lip.
"Xander," Buffy said. "You know all those themes. Come on."
"Just hold on," Xander said desperately. "I don't perform well under pressure."
"'Rollin'. . .'" the door man sang, helpfully.
"I know that," Xander snapped. "Okay!: 'Rollin', Rollin', Rollin' '. . . Uh. . . 'Though the streams are swollen. . ."
"'Keep them dog-gies rolling,'" Buffy warbled.
"'Dough-gies', Buff. Jeez, okay, wait a minute. . . 'Rollin', Rollin', Rollin'. Though the streams are swollen. Keep them doggies rolling. . .'"
"'Rawhide!'" Buffy and the doorman chorused.
"Oh, right! Take the best parts for yourselves." Xander took off the hat and ran a hand through his hair, then tipped the hat back on. "Now you two -- Follow my lead in the chorus." He took a deep breath:
"Rollin' rollin' rollin'
Though the streams are swollen
Keep them doggies rolling
Rawhide!
Rain and wind and weather
Hell bent for leather
Wishing my girl was by my side
All things I'm missin'
Good victuals, love and kissin'
are waiting at the end of my ride
Move 'em on! (sang Xander) -- Head 'em up! (sang Buffy and the doorman)
Head 'em up! (X-man) -- Move 'em up! (B-girl & D-man)
Move 'em on! -- Head 'em up!
Rawhide! (All)
Cut 'em out! -- Ride 'em in!
Ride 'em in! -- Cut 'em out!
Cut 'em out! -- Ride 'em in!
Rawhide!"
Buffy and the doorman started dancing locomotion style in a circle around Xander. "Damn, I need a bullwhip," Buffy said.
Xander grinned at them, snapped the brim of his hat and continued:
"Keep movin' movin' movin'
Though their disapprovin'
Keep them doggies moving
Rawhide!
Don't try to understand them
Just rope, throw and brand them
Soon we'll be living high and wide
My heart's calculating
My true love will be waiting
be waiting at the end of my ride
Move 'em on! Head 'em up!
Head 'em up! Move 'em up!
Move 'em on! Head 'em up!
Rawhide!
Cut 'em out! Ride 'em in!
Ride 'em in! Cut 'em out!
Cut 'em out! Ride 'em in!
Rawhide!"
The doorman whipped out a harmonica and wailed out a reprise of the chorus. Xander grabbed Buffy's hands and waltzed her about. She gazed into his eyes, mesmerized. Damn, Xander thought. I never though to try the macho cowboy thing on her before.
"Xander?" Buffy said breathlessly.
He pulled her in close, in a manly way. "Yes'm?" he said in his most rugged bass.
"Do you think that if I really pleaded. . .?"
"Yep, Buff?"
"Do you think that Giles would get me a bullwhip for Christmas?"
"Spike?" Dalton said.
"Yeah?" said Spike, staring out the window.
"What was that?"
Spike pulled his mouth shut and leaned out the window. "Will you get to work?" he snarled at the three vampires who were still standing, gaping at the -- events by the front door of the bar.
Looking appropriately mortified, they rebrandished their tools and readvanced towards Cordelia's red BMW. The first vampire upon the car gave it a sound smack on the front door handle. The car bleated in terror.
The bleat effectively broke though the bizarreness by the entrance.
"Hey," the Slayer yelled. "What're you doing?!"
The vampires commenced to swarm over the car.
"All right!" she screamed. "You're dead. Again!" She and the boy broke away from the door.
"Very all right," Spike said approvingly. "Come on then, people. Sheila and Mitch, you two stay with the car."
Paper napkin fibers floated about the table and in fluffy drifts on the surface. Giles, his hands carefully folded in front of him, took care not to look at the two women who were painfully hauling themselves out from under the table by his feet.
"Who won?" Willow said from next to Lucy, craning to see.
"A draw, I believe," Giles said.
"Damn," Rio said. "Zuzu, I had ten bucks riding on you."
Zuzu muttered something into the floor, then hooked an arm over the top of the table and staggered up, stomping at Viola's hand as she did so. Viola snatched her hand away and lunged woozily up, but stumbled back onto E.T.'s lap. E.T. grinned, but politely set her back on her feet where she wobbled back into her chair.
"Well!" Lucy. "That was fun! What shall we discuss next?"
"How about a certain wanker, who's about to get his ass kicked from here to Picadilly?" a new voice interjected.
"Hey, Spike!" Kaylee draped an arm over Giles' shoulder. "We saved him for you!"
"It's been a bloody long night," Spike growled. Three of his henchmen stood behind him, looking uneasily at the crowd around the table. "My sense of humor is long gone." He dragged Giles out of his chair.
"Not tryin' to horn in or anything," Lucy said, "but this is a private party. You have a gripe with Rupert here, you two go ahead and square off. However, we don't care for five against one odds."
"Really, I apologize for all the indignities you've suffered tonight," Giles choked out. "Bygones, and all that."
"He's afraid," Kaylee grinned. "Spike can kick his ass, all right."
"No way," E.T. said. "Rupert's the man. Five bucks says he beats the punk's ass."
"Ten on Rupert," Lucy declared.
"Twenty on the tweed," said Zuzu.
"Hell, no," Byron laughed. "He's gonna get busted, Zuzu."
"Put your money where your mouth is, moron."
"I hate to interrupt the night's gaming, but I can't go along with this." Clutching at Spike's arm, Giles managed to regain his feet. "It's a matter of taste."
"Taste? What's taste got to do with it?" Byron sneered.
Giles glanced at Spike, who still had a firm grip around his collar. "Really, I hesitate to say it --"
Spike shook him. "Go ahead, you walking fatality."
"Spike's a Verlaine man."
Rio stood up, his face a furious red. "I should've known." He grabbed the table, picked it up, and smashed it down again. Beer bottles, napkins, and pieces of wood went flying. He kicked the debris out of his way and slugged Spike.
Spike went down with a look of utter surprise on his face.
"Damn reactionary," Zuzu said, holding her beer bottle high. She stood and sent a vicious kick into the crotch of one of the henchmen. He whirled, snarling at her, and was promptly taken down by Byron and E.T.
"Do you people have to get in a fight every damn night?" Lucy complained, even as she grabbed a bottle and sent it spinning to crack into the skull of still another henchman.
Giles ducked under the arms of the third henchman, who collided with several motorcyclists who had come in from the next table over to join in the fun. Willow was the only one still sitting, watching the explosion of fists and elbows with wide eyes. He grabbed her hand and swept her up and out of the melee.
"Where's Buffy?" he shouted at her above the ruckus.
She looked at the door and shrugged helplessly.
"Damn." He held tight to her arm and led her through the growing row, towards the back, where at least they could get reinforcements.
He spotted Angel over by the pinball machines, hampered by a very wide-eyed Cordelia clutching at his arm. Angel motioned at them to join him, but at that moment the fight flared up at several tables around them, effectively cutting them off.
"All right, this is it. End of the line, mate." Spike emerged from a skirmish behind them. He threw an arm around Giles' neck and hauled him back into a painful headlock. Willow gamely hung onto Giles' arm, trying to pull him loose.
He managed to get a fist up into Spike's jaw enough to leverage himself out of the hold, and spied Zuzu coming up from behind. She tossed her leather jacket over Spike's head. The vampire whirled, floundered, and promptly got his legs tangled up in Willow's. The three of them fell in a resounding heap at Zuzu's feet.
"Nasty man." Zuzu set the heel of her cowboy boot on the jacket and pounded Spike's head against the floor several times. "-- teach you to come in here spouting Verlaine at us --"
"Fight!" Viola shrieked happily, and blind-sided Zuzu in full game-faced glory.
"You think this is getting out of control?" Willow yelled at Giles as she crawled out from under him.
"Oh, yes." Giles rolled to his feet, and hauled Viola off the supine Zuzu. The young biker took advantage of the respite to bounce up and drive the heel of her hand up into the vampire's chin. Viola squeaked and flopped back into his arms. Giles scooped her up and deposited her onto the nearest intact table. "Where's Buffy got to?"
"She was right outside," Willow said unhappily.
Spike had dragged the jacket off his head and was staggering to his feet again. Zuzu moved to have another go at him, but was waylaid by a fellow motorcyclist.
Angel appeared through a gap of falling brawlers. "Giles! Willow! What are you doing? Come on."
Spike turned around. "Oh, right," he snarled. "You simply had to butt into this, didn't you?"
"Back off, Spike," Angel retorted. "I'm having a bad night."
"Nothing to the night I've been having, chum." Spike grabbed Angel by the shoulder and tossed him into the pinball machines. Cordelia shrieked and raced for cover of the bar. Momentarily forgetting about Giles, Spike moved in to grab Angel.
Angel crawled under a pinball machine and popped up on the other side. "Com'on, Spike," he taunted. "Batting you about the place will be great therapy."
"Likewise, mate." Spike leaped over the pinball machine onto Angel.
"Okay," Giles said. "That takes care of Spike for the moment." He grabbed Willow's hand and together they attempted to gain sanctuary of the bar, where Cordelia was bombarding the brawlers with beer bottles.
"Oww!" Willow yelped, as a bottle bounced off her foot. "Cordelia, white flag! White flag!"
"Sorry!" Cordelia sang out, but continued to lob out beer bottles with deadly randomness.
Giles steered Willow out of the way of the bombardment towards the front door instead. They ducked under a table as a sortie consisting of a vampire henchman, two of Zuzu's gang, Delilah, and Kaylee the vampire crashed past. The two vampires attempted to take refuge under the table with them. Giles fended them off with the cross from his pocket, while Willow drove them away with several well-placed kicks.
Waiting until a gap opened in the fighting, they made a run for the door.
They burst out into the night, two henchmen on their heels. One snagged onto Willow by the hair and threw her against the side of the building. Giles tried to drag the vampire off, only to be yanked aside by the second one. "Buffy!" he shouted, struggling desperately to avoid being pinned. Willow screamed.
"Hey, you assholes, leave the kid alone!" Byron emerged from the building and pounced on top of Willow's attacker. The vampire shrugged him off to the ground and whirled to stomp on his head. Byron grabbed his foot and surged to his feet, pitching the henchman head over heels.
"Now, now." Lucy came out of the doorway, a cluster of beer bottles in one hand. She smashed one over the head of Willow's attacker as he somersaulted at her feet, then turned and whacked the next two over the skull of Giles' assailant. The vampire wobbled and turned to reach for her, only to get a third bottle across the nose for his efforts. He collapsed.
"That boy has a good skull," Lucy said approvingly. She peered hawk-like across the parking lot. "Bee, what's going on over there?"
Byron peered in the indicated direction. "Shit!" He turned to shout inside the doorway of the bar. "HEY! There are vandals in the parking lot."
A dozen bruised and bleeding, but largely intact motorcyclists immediately appeared through the doorway. "Where?" E.T., who was at the forefront, demanded.
"There, by that red BMW." Byron pointed towards the other end of the lot.
E.T. cracked his knuckles. "Hey you fuckers!" he bellowed. "Say your prayers, 'cause you're about to meet your maker!"
Giles barely managed to pull Willow to one side, out of the charge towards the end of the lot.
"That's Cordelia's car!" Willow said. "Buffy and Xander must be over there! We've got to help them!"
"They just got more help than they'll be able to cope with," Giles guessed. He looked back into the bar, wondering if the fight had thinned enough that they could go in a connect with Angel and Cordelia. Instead, he found himself face to face with Kaylee and Boyce, the retro vampires. "Oh, very well. Let's go help."
He slammed the door shut, and he and Willow ran across the lot towards the BMW, weaving in and out through clusters of motorcycles.
Giles paused halfway across the lot to look back at the bar. The vampires had burst out the door. "I seem to be a vampire magnet tonight. Willow, go around that way and connect with Buffy --"
"No!" Willow said frantically, clutching at his arm. "I'm not letting you be the bait!"
"Willow." He tried to keep his voice composed enough to sound reasonable. "Go get Buffy. I appreciate the sentiment, but we need her help --"
Giles gave a startled yelp as somebody grabbed him by the throat and dragged him backwards towards the front of the lot. He struggled to regain his feet, only to be yanked off balance yet again. His assailant slung him around into the side of a parked car. A parked Thunderbird.
"Hey, Mr. Giles. Remember me?"
"Uh -- Sheila, isn't it? Uh -- wasn't it?"
"GILES!" Willow squeaked. Another vampire had seized her around the waist and was carrying her tucked up under one arm.
"Let her go!" Giles tried to break loose to come to Willow's aid, but Sheila shoved him into the car again.
"You heard him, Mitch," she said mockingly. "Think you'd better do as the man asks?"
Mitch chortled. "Spike'll love this."
"Uh, yeah," Sheila said, looking back over her shoulder at the 'Hog Wild'. "But, like, he's busy right now, so why shouldn't we get to have a little fun first?"
"I dunno." Mitch looked perplexed by the concept. Willow hit him hard in the ribs and tried to thrash loose. "Oh, all right." He dropped Willow on the concrete and put a foot on her chest to hold her down. "But just a bit of fun."
Giles brought a knee up into Sheila's stomach, but she was prepared for such a move on his part. She rapped his head none too gently against the top of the car, then reached down with one hand to haul the door open.
Shoving him down onto the back seat, Sheila climbed on top of him. "Bet you had wet dreams about this kind of thing," she smirked.
Giles hit her hard in the face. Her head snapped back, but she was otherwise unfazed. "Cool it, man," she growled, pinning his arms above his head. "I'm not supposed to kill you. But if it'll help quiet you down a bit --" She shoved his head back to expose his neck.
Willow shouted out something terribly obscene. Giles had a stray thought wondering where she had picked that one up. It startled Sheila too; she sat up and looked back, giving him just enough of a space to bring a leg up between them and give her a solid kick.
Sheila fell back out of the car, arms flailing for a purchase. Giles took advantage of her lack of balance to kick her again. She stumbled back into her fellow vampire, taking him down over Willow's huddled form.
"Willow!" Giles shouted, leaning out of the car.
She looked up, gasping, then surged to her feet to grab his outstretched hand. He hauled, tumbling back into the car with Willow on top.
"Giles!" she squeaked, and looked back. "The door!" She scrambled around to close it, kneeing him solidly in the stomach as she did so.
"Lock it!" he grunted, and rolled to engage the locks on the other side of the car.
"Got 'em!" Willow announced.
The Thunderbird rocked as the infuriated vampires threw their combined weights at the door.
Willow backed up against him. "Uh, now what?"
Sheila and Mitch were conferring angrily outside the car.
"Is that music?" Giles wondered.
They looked at one another. "They wouldn't be dumb enough to leave the keys in the ignition," Willow declared.
Giles leaned over the seat for a look, then scrambled over. Dumb or not, the vampires seemed to catch on to his intentions quickly enough. Mitch looked panicked and began to wrench at the door with new vigor. Metal cracked as some mechanism in the door was stressed.
Sheila stood back with an almost amused look on her face.
"Go away!" Willow shouted at the vampires. She crawled over the seat to sit next to Giles and leaned on the horn. Mitch leaped back, his hands over his ears.
Giles turned the ignition over and threw the Thunderbird into reverse. Mitch threw himself onto the bonnet, clawing for a grip at the windshield wipers. Giles slammed on the brake and shifted into first gear, throwing the steering wheel hard over as he did so. The vampire went skidding off into the darkness, still clutching the wiper in one hand.
He accelerated towards the other side of the lot. Halfway there, another black Thunderbird cut out in front of them. "Damn," he said. "We can't reach Buffy." The car shuddered as another vehicle thudded into the rear bumper.
Giles took the only open option and steered hard right, jumping the car over the lot guard out onto the highway.