White Knight Rolling
Xander scowled at the black muscle car as it sped by, a freakishly familiar face behind the wheel. He knew Tully wasn't Caleb, but he could've been the psycho preacher's twin, and there was something about the set of his jaw that said he was going to be serious competition.
Irritably, Xander wondered if Mr. Bright had trapped Tully in the Race with something extra, too. He lifted a hand to touch his regenerated eye, both promise and threat that they could do what they'd said with his girls, and silently vowed that he would cross the finish line first.
Eve fumed as she waited for Triple-A to show up to fix her flat tire. She'd thought her luck was finally looking up when the black Race phone arrived in her mailbox; after her long convalescence from the injuries she'd suffered in the collapse of Wolfram and Hart, Lindsey's death, and the Senior Partners' refusal to take her back, she'd had a miserable few years.
If she could just get her hands on that $32 million, it would all be worth it; she'd never have to worry about petty human inconveniences again. She'd never get there at this rate, though!
Dead Man Driving
Spike didn't know how they'd found his old DeSoto, but it was definitely his, down to the fender damage from flattening the Sunnydale sign and Drusilla's dollies littering the back seat. Only thing different was the necrotempered glass they'd put in place of the old blacked-out windows.
A year ago, he'd never have agreed to participate-- but that was before Angel had finally got his bloody Shanshu and settled down with his wolf. Spike would never admit it, but he was jealous of Angel's happiness-- and Buffy wasn't getting any younger. Time for Spike to become a Real Boy, too.
It's That Time of Year Again
With every checkpoint that passed, the field narrowed and Giles' red convertible became more and more of a target. He'd nearly been run off the road several times, a young black woman with a mad light in her eye had tried to shoot him a few days ago, and that Caleb-faced frontrunner, Tully, had taken a severe dislike to him since learning Giles was Racing for a book.
Giles felt sorry for the man-- but Kathryn Tully was only one woman, and if Giles didn't get his hands on that text it would mean the end of the bloody world.
Double the Pain
It was more than a week into the Race before Alex got a clear look at the brunette in the five-year-old SUV. In the main, he paid only as much attention to other teams as was required to pass them-- even the brothers Salazar, once the bank job business was all tied up. All that he cared about, in the end, was...
"Kathryn?" he said hoarsely, staring at a woman who could be his wife's twin.
"That is not my name," she said coldly, and turned away.
Shaken, he got back into his car to wait for the next clue.
The Value of Touch
Gwen had known, from the moment she got her hands on the L.I.S.A. device, that it was only a prototype. That she shouldn't get attached to her sudden freedom from the electricity raging under her skin. That it could fail at any moment and wall her off from humanity again.
She'd known-- but she'd let herself get complacent, and the price had been her lover's life. That was why she'd let herself be talked into this Race; thirty-two million dollars was nothing, compared to the money she'd earned from high-ticket theft. The ability to touch again, however, was worth everything.
Freedom and Justice for All
If Wolfram and Hart wanted to run their employees like rats in a maze, there were less risky means of doing so, but Wesley wasn't going to complain. Freed from the bureaucratic hell dimension, behind the wheel of a luxury vehicle, with the prospect of shedding his contract on the table... it was an amazing chance he was going to take full advantage of.
Including the rule allowing a Racer to choose a partner who would share in the prize.
"Well, Lilah?" he asked, glancing at the brunette holding the phone.
"It's Appomattox, of course," she replied, with a smirk.
See How They Run
Amy chanted vehemently under her breath as she drew up even with the older couple on the motorcycle. The silver-haired woman turned her head on her husband's shoulder and smiled, but Amy was too busy casting to respond; a moment later, the motorcycle spun out of control as two tiny mice fell from the seat, trapped inside a pair of human-sized helmets.
She smirked as she passed them. If she won this, They'd promised her membership in a secretive coven powerful enough to take on Willow and win; she was determined to make that happen, no matter what it took.
Out on a Lark
So, okay, maybe this had been a bad idea. She'd been picturing the Race as a chance to have some illicit fun with her college friends over summer break-- Buffy and Giles weren't expecting her back from Shelley's for a few weeks, so they'd never know-- and her share of $32 million would buy a lot of books for the Council library. It wasn't like she was sneaking out Slaying, or anything dangerous, right?
Now, though, Dawn wasn't so sure. People had died, and there were dark rumors about the elimination penalties. Maybe it was time to call her sister.
A Day Long in Coming
Thirty-two million dollars would buy a lot of stakes, crossbows, swords, and axes. It's about time she got back to killing the things that killed her sister.
Thirty-two million dollars would buy a lot of alcohol, too, to drown out all the things Wesley said to her that summer she spent in his closet.
She could do a lot of things, in fact, with thirty-two million dollars... but Justine doesn't kid herself that any of them are the reason she's in this Race.
They've promised her vengeance. Until that vampire's dead, nothing else in her life will have any meaning.