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Thanks for the reviews, guys! I'll respond after this chapter.
Chapter Two
Tay Maclay wasn’t used to boredom. In the three years she’d been on her own, or at least, out of reach of her psychotic family, she’d worked out a system: stay on the move, find edgy girls who don’t mind a walk on the dark side, don’t make serious connections. It made for a hard life, but an exciting one… now, though, however hard it was to admit, she was bored.
“God, don’t these people ever stop someplace fun?” They were idling at a stoplight on a highway parallel to the one the black Impala had taken off down, and after several hours of following the Brit and the girl, had gotten nowhere other than a few rest stops. Beside her, Xandman spat over the line to the side of the road and shook his head.
“They got to stop for the night sometime soon,” he said, squinting into the slow sunset, and Angel nodded.
“She really worth it, Tay?” Tara rolled her eyes towards him, stretching out her back in a sinuous twist before revving her engine.
“Is anything really worth it, pretty boy?” He snorted.
“I’ll give you that.” And they were off.
As the wind whipped her hair against her neck, slapping her face like thousands of angry hands, Tara curled her lip against the buffeting and focused on the hard faded road spreading out before her, on the motor roaring between her legs, on the wide green eyes of the girl she was chasing. She really worth it, Tay? She didn’t know, but why not find out? Always fun to take a little innocence.
Behind her, flanking across the empty evening lanes, her boys shouted to each other every so often, but mostly rode in silence. They understood what it meant, what it really meant, to live this life. They understood the freedom.
Tara smiled to herself, just one hard tilt of the mouth, and remembered.
Spike had been the first. Blond, Cockney Spike, who played up his roughshod accent like nothing else. He acted the tough guy, but he could spout off some pretty damn lyrical verse when he was drunk. She had met him in a bar five months after running with nothing but her bike and the clothes on her back, when she winked at a pretty girl whose asshole boyfriend decided to try and mess her up. She’d been young then, and weak, and had done nothing more than spit at him and get ready for pain. Spike had stepped in just before the first punch landed, and in about two seconds flat he’d had the man on the ground bleeding into the split gravel. They’d been riding together ever since. She supposed they could have been more, too; Spike was beautiful in a sharp, almost feminine way… but not quite feminine enough, and luckily there had never been problems with that.
Xandman, then. Real name Alexander, and he’d introduced himself as just Xander, but she’d never called him anything else. She and Spike had rolled into a party outside a pavilion in Boston, and when they rolled out again the guy was with them and he’d just never left. Tara never really knew whether he’d banded up because he’d been drinking or whether he’d actually wanted to disappear with them, and she’d never asked.
Last was Angel, about a year ago. Leather coats and sneers, a lot like Spike, actually. Probably why they’d fought like hell the first time they met. Tara remembered walking back from the bathroom to find her boy and some stranger grappling on the floor, a ring of bikers around them cheering one name or another. She’d waded in, grabbed a handful of peroxide blond and one of silky brown and yanked the heads apart hard enough that both shouted in pain and surprise. Maybe it was the gorgeous girl staring him down with about as much fear as a panther, maybe it was the fact that the blond asshole he’d been fighting did nothing more than let out an easy laugh when the girl pulled them apart, or maybe it was some combination of those and everything else… but Angel had been one of them ever since.
Tara broke out of memory-land with a jolt, and her lips parted.
The Impala, ahead of them and to the left, almost too far away to make out, had pulled into the parking lot of a Motel 6.
“What’s the plan?” called Spike as they neared the motel, still far enough away to be impossible to see in the dying light, but close enough to read the sign.
“I’m taking her,” Tara called back. “Show time,” she whispered then, the sound lost in the wind and the engine.
.....................
Willow watched Giles fumble with their room key for what felt like a solid minute before she heaved a pointed sigh.
“I’m sorry,” he snapped, as shrewish as Giles could actually be, “that I can’t quite manage these—these cards as well as others!” He put so much emphasis on the word ‘cards’ that it might as well have been ‘bastard children’.
“Well, how about you let me do it?” But before he could respond, the door was opened. With a look of mild triumph, Giles gestured for her to proceed him inside.
Once their bags, few as they were, were situated by the little chest of drawers across from the beds, Willow looked longingly at the small window. It was dark, but the lights that lined the motel parking lot made it into a softer, less intimidating night.
“Can I go for a walk?”
“You must be joking,” Giles replied absently, unpacking his small tidy suitcase into one of the drawers.
“No,” Willow said, a little hurt, and stood up from the mattress she’d been leaning against. “Just around the parking lot. It’s well lit and everything!”
“Why? Look, Willow, just unload your things and prepare for bed, won’t you?”
“It’s not even nine-thirty.”
“Just the same.”
“I’ll be back in five minutes, Giles, I just want to stretch my legs a little.” He turned to catch her already at the door, and frowned.
“That’s why we stopped at that horrid little park.”
“That was four hours ago.”
“And?”
“And my legs don’t freeze into position like yours do, apparently!” With that, she opened the door and slipped out. Giles sighed, went to the window, and made sure he could see the entire parking lot. Satisfied, he turned back to the room. There was a small, antenna-topped television sitting on the chest of drawers, and, with one raised brow, Giles found the remote. Perhaps something decent was playing, like I Love Lucy.
........................
Willow kept her hands in her pockets, a little shivery. It was colder than she’d expected, and once she got a good bit around the parking lot, the coolness set in more decisively.
“Stupid deserts,” she muttered. “Hot as hell by day, cold as anything by night.”
“Here,” a voice said out of the darkness just beyond the pool of light cast by the nearest lamp post. “This’ll warm you up.”
Willow, at the first unexpected word, almost keeled over onto the pavement.
Then, the owner of the voice stepped out of the shadows and, with a slow smile, offered her a worn leather jacket.
It was her.
The blond girl, the biker from the diner. Here. With her. In the parking lot. Offering her her coat.
“I…”
“Take it, kid. I don’t mind the cold.” Carefully, because she was afraid the girl might hit her if she didn’t, Willow accepted the jacket and shrugged it on. It was warm, and smelled of leather and wind and something sweet, like honey.
“Thanks,” she said warily, eying the girl. She was wearing real pants now, jeans, but they were tight enough that none of the glory of those long legs was lost. At that, Willow blushed and the blond girl, noting the way Willow was looking her up and down, smiled a little wider. For a second, Willow thought she saw something sharp in that smile, something panther-like (something hungry) in those blue eyes. Then it was gone.
“No problem,” the girl said easily. “Hey, I’m sorry about before. The boys get a little rowdy, and I have to keep ‘em in line.”
“It’s okay,” Willow said, not really knowing how else she could possibly respond.
“I’m Tay,” said the girl, holding out a hand. “Tara, really.”
“Willow.” She took the proffered hand, shaking it quickly and releasing it just as fast.
“Willow,” Tara repeated, her silky voice low. Willow swallowed.
Suddenly, there was a roar of engines in the distance. Tara looked over her shoulder, and Willow swallowed again at the fear in her eyes when she looked back.
“Willow, you have to get out of here,” Tara said, the easygoing smile gone. “I thought by going ahead I’d convince them to drop it, but I was wrong. They’re coming.”
“What? Who’s coming?” Scared, Willow took a step away from the blond and looked every direction she could without turning her back on Tara.
“Some guys from a bar we stopped at,” Tara explained, rushed. “Spike and Angel were talking about you, joking around, and some boys decided it might be fun to play around.” Willow’s eyes widened, and she almost tripped shrugging out of the jacket. Tara grabbed her arm.
“No, you can’t go in there! They’re bad types, Willow, and they’ll go after you. You’re like a game to those people, understand? They’ll hurt you, and they’ll hurt the man you’re traveling with.” Shocked, Willow stared at the blond. The engines were getting louder, and now she could hear vague whoops and shouts of laughter. Men. More than one.
“What do I do?” she asked, wondering where the nearest police station was. Nowhere close, that was for sure. Tara’s grip on her upper arm loosened, and the blond stepped closer. She looked nothing like the tough, crude biker girl of the diner. Now, her blue eyes were big, concerned, kind.
“You have to come with me,” she said, her voice soft but firm. “I can keep you safe. They won’t go up against me and my boys, and once they give up, I can bring you back here.”
“I- I can’t do that,” Willow said, her brain not quite functioning. She couldn’t look away from Tara’s face.
“It’s the only way to protect you,” Tara said, earnest. “Please, Willow, I don’t want you to get hurt because of me.”
“But Giles-“
“We’ll call the motel. Come on, there’s no time!” She dropped Willow’s arm and stepped back, away from Willow, who automatically followed. As soon as she took that first step, Tara’s hand found hers and they were running, running out of the light of the parking lot and over bumpy pitted rock.
...................
She wasn’t sure how far to push it, but the stupid girl wasn’t cooperating. She was falling for the puppy-dog eyes, but not fast enough, not hard enough! Tara bit her lip, and then upped the ante by letting go of Willow and stepping back. If she followed—she did. Tara had to hide a smile.
She had her.
Spike, Angel and Xandman would meet up with them later. They’d work out then what to do about the so-called dangerous gang after Willow. For now, though, Tara was satisfied with one clear thought:
Damn, I’m good.
_________________
I believe in the sun even when it's not shining.
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