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"Where the hell is this damn road leading?" Spike mummered to himself. He'd been driving and driving down the endless pavement for hours. He had been hopeful about 2 hours ago, when the dirt had finally led into the familiar paved asphalt of modern day, But so far he held no sights of civilization. Just an endless horizon of dirt and dust and cactus.
As he drove past the barren landscape, his mind wondered to the possibilities of his current geographical situation. Guessing at a timetable based on by the looks of the boy, Spike figured not more than a week had gone by, so they probably had not crossed any major bodies of water, which was of the good.
Of the good? Spike chose not to dwell on where he had picked up that particular phrase.

That left little speculation as to where he could be. The southern and western part of the good old USA had scenery similar to this, not that Spike had spent very a many night there, the desert being not very vampire accommodating, but he'd driven past it a time or two.

If he was in the good old south that he'd be heading on into a town with a nice piggly wiggly any time now.
If it was the latter of his speculations..
Well he was good and proper fucked.

Spike was never really one for the whole *South of the Boarder* fare. At the time he'd picked Brazil, it just seemed like the most convenient place to avoid the slayer and her wanker council buddies. Other than that, the Spanish and Latin nations generally had little appeal for him. Dru got a kick out of em though. Specially those nations that had a history of bloody wars amongst the more remote, and secluded Indian tribes.

Dru was constantly dragging him through these dusty countries, areas rich in ancient rituals of sacrifice and bloodshed, and the practices of violent wars. She clamed that she could *feel the blood of the innocence flowing in the streets.*
It had it's appeal, but Spike board quickly. Truth be told, he had preferred the affluent decadence of the *old world* when traveling. Places where depravity was the right of the wealthy. Where torture was an art form. Where anything could be bought and sold, for the right price of course. 'Ahh those were the days.' He thought with a slight grin. Course upon remembering some of his more..deviant pleasure of the past, the soul gave his a swift kick of guilt for his penance.
'Damn Soul', he thought. There was no time to dwell on the sins of the past. He was a new man now. He had new opportunities.
And he was determined not to fuck it up!

Now in baring all this in mind, he knew his Spanish speaking skills would be particularly lacking. Plus if there was a border to cross he'd need papers, which he did not have. Or he could try to run it!; and get possibly get shot good and dead!

Now that wasn't and appealing thought.

Perhaps if he could reach a phone. He could just call the Poof to fly a jet down here to pick them up!
There's a thought! Course first he tend to the boy. If the kid up and died on him than he would have just wasted a perfectly good rescue!

The minute the thought left his brain, Spike felt sick. He looked over at the child and cursed himself for his moment of thoughtlessness. This wasn't some jeweled trinket to be coveted or some magic ring to be prized. This was a small child who, for better or for worse, whether good or evil, had some people who were right about now wondering were he'd gotten off to. Perhaps he even had some people, good people, who were loving him, and missing him, and truly hurting right now.

'Wasting a good rescue, God was he a git sometimes!'

"Sorry boy" Spike whispered with tears threatening his eyes.
"Damn soul!" he cursed as he continued off down the road.





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