Prologue
Once in every immortal generation there is a vampire given great power and strength. He, and he alone, will protect the creatures of the night from those that would seek to destroy them. He is the Slayer of Slayers.
When the girl was first called, they saw no reason to worry. She was a far cry from what made a good slayer; a typical, clichéd cheerleading valley girl would never survive the dangers of being a Slayer. Not when so many well-trained girls died so easily. They were sure she would not last long. They were wrong.
The girl defeated Lothos, a powerful master vampire who had killed the trained Slayer who had tried to destroy him. Yet this young girl, untrained and undisciplined, did just that. It made them sit up and actually take notice of her. When the Council of Watchers moved her to the hellmouth, they began to watch her very carefully. Especially since it was the hellmouth that The Master was trapped in.
Though they had no desire to see the Master succeed in his plans, his existence was needed to keep order. They had assumed that she would stop The Master’s plans…to keep him from rising. She had proven herself capable enough to handle that. What they had not expected was for her to kill him. Keep him trapped, yes, but kill him, no.
When she stopped the plans to resurrect him, they knew that this Slayer was too dangerous to let live. She was unravelling a very thin balance, and that couldn’t be allowed. For the first time in twenty years, they needed their greatest weapon to do what he was created for…they needed him to slay the Slayer known as Buffy Summers.
l.l.l.l
When he was first called they thought that there must have been some sort of mistake. He was a far cry from the type of vampire that was normally called; he was part of the Scourge of Europe and was taught by Angelus, one of the worst known vampires at the time. He was barely past fledglinghood, not even twenty years old. He revelled in bloodshed and slaughter.
They considered destroying him just to bring fourth the next Chosen One, but they decided to watch him first. They could not kill him before they had proof that his calling was indeed an error.
They found that he was indeed different; despite his desire to suppress it, the spark of humanity still burned within him. He wanted the violence that all vampires craved, but wanted it through the thrill of the fight before the bloodshed of slaughter and torture. Where many vampires killed their family for food, he killed his mother in order to save her, only to kill her again when he realized the demon was no longer her. His heart was filled with love for his sire, who would never love him back the same way and always hold another above him. In the words of his mentor, he wasn’t ‘demon enough’.
It was just what they needed.
This vampire might resist the calling, but he would do it. Unlike most of his kind, he could change…would change without too much trouble. To their surprise, he not only accepted his calling, but embraced it. To him it was an opportunity to prove himself. He found joy facing those who were his ultimate enemy. Unlike those before him, he looked forward to the dance with death.
There were times they wished that he was not their chosen one. He was reckless, impatient and impulsive He drew out his fights for pure enjoyment when it was safer to end them quickly. All in all, he danced to his own tune. Yet he was good at his job. He killed two Slayers when it was needed, one right after he was called. He took on demons more powerful than him when they came too close to causing destruction. He protected their world without question, even if there were many complaints.
So when it came down to it, they saw no reason why he couldn’t go against this newest Slayer. Yes, she was different compared to others, but so was he. Where she was no ordinary Slayer, William the Bloody was no ordinary Slayer of Slayers.
l.l.l
Chapter One: The Slayer of Slayers
Spike was hunting.
He scanned the bar, idly sipping his beer as his eyes looked over the people around him. The club was crowded, filled with mostly younger humans. Collage kids, Spike was willing to bet. The younger ones all seemed to be on either the dance floor or sitting at a table, while the older patrons stood at the bar. Excitement and energy hummed through the club, buzzing from all of those partiers who were all blissfully unaware of the fact that there were a good fifteen vampires prowling amongst them. Spike could sense them first, and then pick them out from the crowd easily. The humans who danced, walked or sat beside them had absolutely no idea that they were standing so close to death. They had no clue that they were being hunted.
Though Spike was not hunting the same kind of prey. Where those vampires were looking for some moronic, drunk co-ed to follow them blindly into a back alley, Spike was looking for a very different kind of human to snack on. It would have been easy enough to get one of those co-eds; flash a smile, call her ‘pet’ in his accent and a make suggestion accompanied with his tongue curl, and he could have his pick of victims. He was tempted, he really was, but that wasn’t on the menu for tonight. If he had had just wanted a quick sip he would have already picked out a girl and taken a bite, but Spike was in the mood for a kill. He didn’t kill humans like that anymore. No matter how good they tasted.
Spike was just about to order himself another beer when he saw it.
There! That’s what he was looking for.
He watched as a clean cut man, a good ten years older than the average club goer in this place, discreetly slipped a little packet out of his coat pocket. The man opened it and, in a motion that was hard to catch for even Spike’s vampire eyesight, poured what looked to be some sort of powder into a passing drink. The drink landed in front of a cute little brunette who took a sip without even looking.
Spike wanted to roll his eyes at the behaviour. Wasn’t it preached that you should get your drink yourself and then never let it out of your sight? Safety first and all that rot? Bloody stupid humans. Though at the moment Spike was pleased with the girl’s carelessness. It was going to provide him with supper.
He watched as the girl finished her drink, could tell as the drug began to take effect. Her heart rate was going sluggish, she was swaying every few moments and her eyes kept un focusing. The man who had just used the drug was watching just as intently, and after a few moments sauntered up to the table. He began talking to the girl, ignoring the two very annoyed friends who sat at the table with her. Even Spike was surprised, when not even five minutes later, the girl got to her feet and began to leave with him. Her friends both looked shocked as they tried to stop her from leaving. She brushed them off and walked away, and they were too stunned by her behaviour to go after her.
Whatever drug that was, it was fast acting and powerful.
Spike turned back to the bar, tossed a few bills on the counter, muttered a quick ‘thanks mate’ to the bartender and began to follow the pair. He stayed in the shadows and outskirts of the crowd, trailing them but not giving them not indication that they were being stalked. Spike couldn’t help but grin; God he loved this feeling! The power that came with being a predator. The thrill of closing in on prey that didn’t even realize that they were being hunted. It would have been better had the humans actually been something worth stalking, but lunch was lunch.
He slipped out of the club nearly on the heels of the couple. The drug was really beginning to take hold of the girl; she could barely stand on her own now. The man’s arm was tight around her waist, supporting her faltering steps. Spike assumed he had a car stashed close by, probably so that he could whisk the girl away before her friends finally came after her and realized what was wrong. As fun as stalking was, Spike was hungry and had no desire to continue to track after the two of them were in a car and driving away, so he had to finish this now.
“Y’a know,” Spike finally spoke, “she really doesn’t look like she wants to go with you.”
The man jumped, startled as he swung around to face the direction the voice had come from. Spike stepped out of the building’s shadow, lighting up a cigarette as he went.
“She’s just had a little too much to drink,” he covered, sounding exasperated and yet not totally unpleased.
Spike just cocked an eyebrow at that.
“Right,” he drawled, taking a long drag of the cigarette he had just lit, “and that bit of powder you slipped in the bint’s drink has nothin’ to do with her state.”
The man’s eyes widened at that. The scent of fear was beginning to drift off the him, and Spike breathed it in deeply and greedily. God he loved that smell. The only thing better than the smell of fear was the taste of fear.
“I don’t know what-“ he began to stammer out some sort of explanation, but Spike cut him off.
“Really good drug you fed her. Knocked her out good and proper. Right there is where we come into a problem. See, I for one think that if a bloke needs to resort to drugs to get a woman it’s just bleedin’ pathetic. Was evil for a while and even then I didn’t care for the whole rape deal; if you can’t charm your way into a girl’s pants then you really don’t deserve to be there. But I must admit I’m glad you decided to play date rapist tonight. I’m really not supposed to be killing people anymore, but when it’s a low life like you, nobody says a word. ‘Preciate it, they do.”
All the while Spike had been casually sauntering up to him. The man apparently wasn’t considering making any sort of move to get away. When the word kill came out of Spike’s mouth his eyes did widen and he took a step back, but he didn’t run. To Spike it was very disappointing. He preferred it when they ran.
Spike finally came to stand in front of him, tossing his finished cigarette off to the side. He grinned when he heard the man’s heart beat speed up even more, and as the grin spread he shifted into game face. The man gave an unmanly shriek and dropped the girl. She hit the pavement with a dull thud and was quickly forgotten as he turned and began to sprint away. Finally there was running! With a whoop of gleeful laughter Spike took off after him. He caught him in a matter of moments, and then had him in a tight hold, back pressed to his chest.
“Please…!” he began to beg, and Spike only rolled his eyes.
Why did humans always think that begging would make any sort of difference?
Without even bothering to answer the man’s pleas, Spike leaned down and brutally sank his fangs into his jugular. The man screamed and tried to pull out of his grasp, but Spike held him tight. He pulled sips of blood into his mouth slowly, savouring the sweet taste. The struggles became less as the man’s heart beat began to slow. His breathing became strained and then non existent as his body began shutting down. Not even two minutes after the bite he was drained.
Spike moaned appreciatively, enjoying the blood down to the last drop. It always tasted better with a kill; life blood tasted sweeter and more powerful, especially when there was so much fear mixed in. Yes, it was certainly a good meal.
“Damnit Spike! Why did you have to go and kill this guy!”
Spike looked up from the man’s neck when the angry sounding words broke the silence of the alley. He saw the woman who was standing there, hands on her hips and looking very impatient, and a grin spread across his bloody lips.
“Anyanka! Don’t tell me this git is a friend of yours.”
“Of course not,” the vengeance demon looked at the corpse distastefully, “I’m here to punish him.”
“Oh?” Spike asked in interest, letting the body drop without a second thought, “what’d he do?”
“He’s married to a witch,” Anyanka replied, “a very powerful one who gets jealous and vengeful very easy. She found a stash of women’s underwear and summoned me.”
“What’d she wish?”
“For his penis to stop working,” the demon’s reply held amusement, “I came in person to make sure the wish was granted at the most inopportune moment for him.”
Spike glanced down at the corpse and held back a grimace; not that he didn’t deserve the kind of punishment that Anyanka had been prepared to doll out, but it went beyond cruel and unusual.
“And what happened to no killing?” Anyanka’s voice was impatient again, telling Spike that she was not pleased with him.
Spike had learned over the years that you didn’t piss off vengeance demons, especially ones as volatile as Anyanka.
“Allowed to kill the bad guys,” Spike replied with a small shrug, “this one was one of them. That stash of knickers you said his wife found probably belonged to girls like her,” he nodded in the direction of the drugged girl who was still passed out on the ground a few feet away from them, “slipped ‘em something and ushered them away. Probably kept the knickers to get off on later.”
Anyanka had been surprised to see the girl lying there, and by the time Spike finished explaining her presence, her face was clouded over with rage.
“You should have tortured the bastard before you ate him,” she informed him bluntly, and Spike’s scarred eyebrow rose at that.
“Did you not just harp on me for killing?” Spike reminded her.
“I don’t like rapists,” Anyanka sounded every bit vengeance demon and patron for scorned women at that moment.
“Neither do I luv,” Spike answered, “but I was just too damn hungry to go with the torture bit for tonight. Next time though.”
Anyanka gave a nod of agreement, and Spike wondered if he should invite her along when that next time came. She’d probably enjoy it more than he would.
Anyanka glared down at the corpse for a moment before the hardness in her eyes left and she sighed.
“Damnit!” She repeated, “I needed this one! For the first time in nearly five hundred years I’m below my quota. D’Hoffryn is not impressed and I have to make it up. And you had to go kill one of my victims!”
She was glaring at him, and Spike back peddled, knowing that now was the time to soothe Anyanka’s irritation. The last thing he wanted was for her temper to shoot back up. Last time he had let her stay angry with him she had gotten one of her friends to put a temporary cruse on him, and Spike never wanted that to happen again.
“Well,” he reasoned with her, “you did technically fulfil the wish. His penis isn’t gonna work again, on account on him being dead and all. So you still did grant the wish, just out sourced the grunt work to me. You were just doin’ a friend a favour, letting me make the kill.”
“You’ll give me the credit?” she asked, and Spike gave a quick nod, “Fine. D’Hoffryn won’t be pleased, but as long as the vengeance goes to my tally he really can’t complain.”
Spike couldn’t help but smirk at the look on the demon’s face. She looked right pleased she did.
“What should we do with her?” Anyanka asked, gesturing to the woman still unconscious on the ground, “we really shouldn’t leave her there.”
Truth be told, Spike had pretty much forgotten the girl was there. He supposed he should do something; there wasn’t much point in saving the girl from a rapist just to leave her out here to become (most likely, considering the amount that were in the club) potential vamp chow.
“Right then, why don’t you bring the girl back to her friends, if they’re still in there? Two birds, one black with short hair in a blue dress and a big haired blonde wearing a God awful shade of pink for a skirt. Will look less suspicious if another girl brings her in instead of yours truly. If they’re gone, call an ambulance or somethin’. Just get her out of here safely.”
Anyanka rolled her eyes, “Yes Spike, let’s saddle me with the physical labour. May I remind you, you do happen to be stronger than me.”
“What can I say? I’m the leader too, and every once and awhile I gotta give commands,” at her poignant glare, he amended his statement, “oh alright, make suggestions.”
“Fine,” Anyanka huffed, “but I will expect you to pay me back in the future.”
“Tell you what,” Spike’s voice was mock seriousness despite the cheeky smirk, “next time you an’ Lawson sneak off when we’re supposed to be workin’, I won’t say a word.”
“Yes,” Anyanka’s smiled, brightening considerably, “I like that idea. So will Sam; he still gets embarrassed when you tease him for sneaking off to have sex whenever I get bored.”
“Oh, and that’s what makes the mocking so enjoyable. Speakin’ of, where is lover boy tonight?”
“Hunting, the same as you. I was working, so we’re going to meet up later for drinks. Wait! I’m not working anymore, so I can go find him now. He should be finished by now. He hunts the bad parts of town where he knows he’ll find an acceptable human to eat.”
Anyanka was more or less rambling to herself now, and Spike was only half listening as she chirped on happily about her lover’s hunting schedule and habits. As if Spike hadn’t hunted with Lawson a thousand times and didn’t know all this information already.
“If we get drinks now it leaves much more time for orgasms. Would you like to join us?” She paused for a moment, “for drinks. Not sex. Though, if you do want to join us for sex, I would welcome you. I think you would be a very pleasurable lover. I could always talk to Sam-“
“Thanks luv,” Spike interrupted her in amusement, barely holding back laughter, “honoured as I am you’d like me in your bed, it’s alright. Gotta pick up Glinda from the library, so no to the drinks too.”
He chuckled at her disappointed face, and couldn’t help but add, “Though if you wanna run that idea by Lawson, you go right ahead. Tell me what he says.”
Spike could just imagine the bewildered and embarrassed look on the younger vampire’s face, and it had him holding back snickers. What he wouldn’t give to be a fly on the wall for that conversation. Especially when Anyanka would bluntly state something like “I want Spike to have sex with us” as a way to begin it.
Anyanka looked pleased with the idea, and Spike just shook his head. A vengeance demon who catered to spurned women that was addicted to sex. Who would have thought?
“Right then. Night demon girl.”
“Goodnight Spike.” She chirped happily, visions of sex skyrocketing her into a good mood.
Spike turned to leave just as Anyanka bent down to the unconscious girl. Spike heard her mutter something about men before using her demon strength to haul the girl up and into her arms bridal style.
As be walked away Spike was almost whistling. He had fed, killed and provided Lawson torture and it was only early. The night was going good so far.
l.l.l.l
“Tell me you’re joking. Please tell me you’re joking.”
He was close to begging and he knew it, but he really didn’t care at the moment. He looked around the table, wishing one of the five demons sitting there would pull out a ‘just kidding’ message and minute now. He knew there was no chance in hell of it happening, but a demon could dream right?
“We are not joking,” the large lizard like demon spoke.
He sighed and adjusted his fedora. He knew it wouldn’t change anything, but he had to argue his point anyway.
“Spike isn’t going to like this. Go kill the new Slayer, now that part he’ll love. He’s been complaining about being bored lately. It’s the second part that’s going to have him up in arms.”
“He has no choice,” another of the five demons, this one a long, nearly translucent snowy white fairy like female, reminded him, “we give him much room, more than any past Chosen One. Yet here he will obey us and follow our orders. It’s your job as his Watcher to explain this to him.”
“Right,” he muttered under his breath, “because he ever listens to me.”
The Demon Council weren’t the ones who had to listen to Spike bitch whenever he was told he had to do something he didn’t like the sound of. As his Watcher, Whistler regrettably did.
He looked around the table again, knowing he would get no sympathy. He sighed before asking.
“When does he have to be there?”
“Before St. Vigeous.”
Shit. That was only six days away. Spike wasn’t going to like this. All Whistler could hope was that the vampire didn’t go and shoot the massager when he went and told him the news.
l.l.l
She was waiting on the front steps of the library when Spike pulled up on his motorcycle. She was alone, staring off into space, a large book bag sitting on the on the steps in front of her. There was a sad look on her face, and that worried him. That and the fact that she was apparently so distracted that she didn’t even realize a motorcycle had pulled up a few feet away from her.
“Oi! Glinda!”
Tara jumped, startled by the sudden yelling of her pet name. She looked up to where Spike was still sitting on his bike, though now it was turned off.
“Hi Spike,” she told him with a smile, standing up and shouldering her book bag onto her back.
“You were awfully lost in thought luv,” Spike said, watching as the young girl walked towards him, “anything wrong?”
Tara paused for a moment, “I’m f-fine.”
“Sure you are,” Spike’s eyebrow lifted, “because the thousand yard stare, stuttered answer and hurt puppy dog eyes tell a different story. Come on, tell ‘ol Spike what it is.”
“Just the normal,” Tara spoke up again, now sounding sad, “my partners aren’t t-that nice.”
“Want me to bite ‘em? I will.”
“That’s okay Spike,” she replied with a soft laugh, climbing behind him on the bike, “I can handle a little t-teasing.”
Spike started the bike up again in order to stop himself from replying. Spike felt the need to hunt down whoever these partners were and tear off a few limbs. Nobody treated his Glinda this way! He hated seeing the young girl upset, especially when it was caused by something like this. Tara had come a long way from when Spike had first met her, and he never wanted to see her as that scared little girl again.
-Flashback-
The Slayer of Slayers was a grand title, making one picture epic, bloody battles and fights to the death. Or at least that was how it had been described to Spike when the Demon Council had first found him. Why do you think he signed on so easily? What they neglected to tell him was how he’d be filling his calling between those epic battles. He had nothing against rushing to the aid of innocent demons everywhere, but it got boring after awhile. Especially when there was barely a challenge involved.
This time he had been told he had to find a young girl, part demon and a fledgling witch. She was supposed to need saving, and that there was in Spike’s job description. So Spike had hopped on a plane, flew down to the southern states, poked around the location he was given and waited for this danger to happen. It took three very long nights of slinking around a red neck, back water town for him to finally find her. When he did, Spike was shocked to find that this part demon wasn’t in danger from demon hunters, vigilantes (which was usually the case on one of these missions) or other demons, but from her own family.
He had finally picked up her scent on the third night and was following it when he heard loud voices. Spike went towards them, being sure to remain quiet and out of sight but still picking up his pace. The voices and the scent trail ended at a small graveyard. When Spike peaked around a tree to get a better look, he took in the scene in front of him.
There were two people in the cemetery. One was a mousy young girl, maybe fourteen years old if that, standing there clutching a candle tightly in her hands. Spike couldn’t see her face through the curtain of blonde hair that covered it on account of her bowed head, but from the way her body was shaking he knew she was crying. He could smell the faint trace of fear on her, and that made his head tilt to the side as he studied the scene. The other person was a man, and he looked furious. He was yelling at the girl, something about magic and evil.
Spike took a better look and realized that there were other candles like the one the girl was holding around a grave. It was the grave the two of them were standing over.
“What have I told you!” the man was still yelling, “using magic to contact your mother is evil!”
“Only to t-talk,” the girl pleaded, “just for a few minutes. I n-need to tell t-tell her some things.”
Spike was dumbfounded; it was true that he didn’t trust magic, but in no stretch of the imagination could he ever picture what this little girl was doing as evil. From the scene he’d saw, the girl was probably just lost her mother and just wanted to talk to her. God did Spike ever understand that. Sure it wasn’t the smartest thing to do, but Spike couldn’t see the harm in letting the girl summon the woman for a few minutes. The girl might be young, but she had power. Spike could feel it.
“It doesn’t matter!” the man, who Spike was assuming to be her father, wasn’t listening, “The magic comes from your demon side! That side is evil!”
So this was the demon Spike had been sent to protect. She bloody well needed it to, considering her father was clearly insane; how you could look at that little slip of a girl and think she was evil for God’s sake?
The girl was clearly terrified, her body sending out every signal possible to alert Spike to that fact. Her heart was pounding, she was trembling and the scent of fear was coming off her like a thick perfume.
This time when the girl tried to speak, the man silenced her stuttering by backhanding her. She went sprawling to the ground with a cry, landing beside the tombstone and knocking over all the candles she had placed there. She whimpered and clutched the marker for support when her father’s voice stared screaming at her again. When it looked like he was about to get violent again, Spike took action.
He rushed out from behind his tree and grabbed hold of the man’s arm that was reaching down to haul the girl to her feet. The two of them were startled by the stranger’s arrival, and while the girl only reacted with a startled jump, her father reacted with anger. He ripped his arm out of Spike’s grip and turned furious eyes on him. Before he could say anything, Spike’s cold voice stopped him.
“Leave the girl alone.”
Both of them looked bewildered, the father in a furious way and the girl full of awe.
“This is none of your concern!” the man spluttered out in fury.
“Yeah it is,” Spike replied coldly, putting himself between the girl and her father, “us demons, we tend to stick together. And we take care of our own.”
He switched to vamp face then with a growl, determined to get him away from the still terrified girl as quickly as possible. He stumbled back a few steps in an attempt to put distance between himself and the clearly enraged vampire.
“Wha-what-“ Spike was pleased to hear he had the man stuttering in fear, much as he had been doing to his own daughter.
“A demon,” Spike replied flatly, “leave.”
And he did, and couldn’t get out of there fast enough. To top it off, he made no move to get his daughter and take her away. Spike was clearly a threat and the man was willing to leave his daughter there without a backwards glance.
“Bloody coward,” Spike muttered in disgust before turning his attention to the girl who was still huddled on the ground, making sure his face was back to human when he looked at her, “don’t worry pet. Not gonna hurt you.”
After a stunned moment of silence, she spoke.
“T-thank you,” the girl stuttered out, looking up at him with grateful eyes that were still full of tears.
There was something about her that made him stay. Where he would normally get out a gruff reply before walking away, Spike found himself crouching down beside her.
“You got anywhere to go?” he asked her softly.
The girl just shook her head, tears welling in her eyes again.
“Well come on then.”
To say she looked surprised would have been an understatement. She studied him for a moment, clearly trying to decide. Though when he held out a hand to help her up, she didn’t hesitate in taking it.
“You got a name pet?” he asked as they began to walk.
“T-Tara,” she spoke, self consciously falling in step beside him.
“’M Spike.”
-End flashback-
She had followed him without question, somehow trusting that he wouldn’t hurt her. It had shocked the hell out of Spike that she could have so much trust after she had so obviously been hurt by people who were supposed to love and protect her. He didn’t ask her why though, instinctively knowing that that would come later.
The first question she had asked was where were they going. When Spike had answered he had a place just outside Calgary Alberta, Tara hadn’t even blinked. She had only nodded and asked if they could stop by her house first. Spike had been leery of the idea, thinking that if she went to say goodbye she might be convinced to stay. She didn’t want to say goodbye, but there were things she couldn’t leave behind.
They had spent the day holed up in an empty, run down shack that Spike had been taking refuge in during the day. Finally Tara had asked him who he was. Spike had told her about being a vampire, about being the Slayer of Slayers and what that meant. He left out the most violent aspects, figuring that they weren’t all that appropriate for a fourteen year old to hear. Then he told her that he had been sent to protect her.
“Did they tell you to take me home?” she had asked softly, a bit of apprehension in her voice.
“Nah,” he had replied with a grin, “decided that all on my own.”
Tara had been so relieved that he once again wondered what the girl had gone through. The question of why had been in her eyes, but she hadn’t voiced it. Maybe she was a bit scared of the answer. Spike understood it. He knew why. Sweet, shy Tara reminded him oh so much of sweet, shy (poncy, pathetic, he added in his mind) William. As much as he tried to suppress the William part of him, Spike knew that it was still a driving factor in who he was. How could he not want to help the girl?
After a little probing, Tara had finally opened up about herself. Her life had been hard, full of mostly verbal abuse but enough of the physical kind. The only person she had had was her mother, and she had just died from cancer just a week before.
It was her mother that the demon blood had come through, and it was that blood that gave her her magic. All the women in her family had it, Tara had explained, and they were considered evil if they tapped into it. Yet, despite the oppression, her mother had. Then she had begun to teach her only daughter.
Finally, just as they had been preparing to leave that night, Spike had asked.
“Why are you comin’ without question? How do you know ‘m not gonna make you my slave or somethin’?”
“The demon blood is from an empath species,” she had answered, “the actual demon in the family was a long time ago, but the ability to feel others’ emotions has carried down. I see them through a person’s aura. If you wanted to hurt me, I would see it there.”
“Aura huh? What’s mine look like?”
“It…glows.”
At that moment Spike had been sure that Tara was his human self reincarnated. It made him want to protect her all the more.
When they had finally arrived at her house no one had been home, much to their relief. The things she couldn’t leave behind, besides a few extra clothes, had been things that were her mother’s; a picture, a locket, a ring, three spell books, a quartz crystal and a goddess figurine were all carefully put into a carry on bag. She walked away from the place she had spent her entire life without a backwards glance.
While Tara had gone to her mother’s grave to say goodbye, Spike had called the Demon Council and told them that he was bringing someone back with him. They had told him no, Spike had told them there was nothing they could do to stop him. After several arguments that had fallen on Spike’s deliberately deaf ears, the council had caved and bought Tara a plane ticket.
They had returned to Calgary that night, just beating the dawn. When Tara had mentioned finding a place to live, Spike had told her flat out that she would be staying with him. Her arguments had met with a ‘It’s a big house and ‘M here all by myself. There’s room and I want you here.”
That had been two years ago. Tara had been there and in his life ever since.
When they had first settled her in, Spike had enrolled her in school because education is important (a bleedin’ waste of time, he had thought) and, despite his leery attitude towards magic, had gotten a local witch to continue her lessons where her mother had been forced to leave off.
A large part of Spike’s life had been spent taking care of others, first his mother and then with Dru. He hadn’t realized how much he had missed it until he started watching over Tara.
She had come such a long way since then; at first she had been so shy, stuttering and blushing whenever someone spoke to her directly. Never mind coming out and saying anything or making suggestions of her own accord.
With Spike it hadn’t taken her long to grow comfortable, but with the others of the group it had taken a bit longer. They had treated her like one of them from the beginning, never making her feel unwelcome. Awkward sometimes, what with Anyanka’s forward, blunt statements and Doyle’s shameless flirting despite the fact she had confided that she was a lesbian.
It had taken time, but Tara had come out of her shell. She was at home with them now. Too bad the same couldn’t always be said for the world outside their little group. Though she was more confident outside, it wasn’t nearly enough in Spike’s opinion. Tara was a strong woman; she had survived a childhood full of pain and yet had the strength to walk away from it without letting it break her. She had embraced her power when she had been told her whole life that it was evil. She had a spine of steel under that shy exterior and she didn’t even see it.
Which is why, Spike grumbled in his mind as he pulled into their driveway, I hate when wankers go and make her feel like this again. Stupid gits, not seein’ the amazing girl Glinda is.
He turned off the bike and waited until Tara was off before he swung his leg over and dismounted.
“So Glinda,” Spike was determined to cheer her up, “What you wanna do? Movie on the telly and pizza sound good? I’ll even let you pick.”
“Even a chick flick?” there was a hopefulness in her eyes and voice that made Spike suppress a sigh.
Bloody hell.
He wanted to say no, but instead said “sure thing pet. Whatever you want.”
The smile that broke out on Tara’s face made the next several hours of torture in the form of girly movies worth it.
“Right then,” Spike said as they unlocked the front door and stepped inside, “you pick the film and I’ll order the piz-“
Spike cut himself off when he realized that there was someone else in the house. That someone was standing in the kitchen, leaning against the counter and waiting for them. When Spike realized who it was he groaned.
“Oh balls. What the bloody hell do you want?”
“Good evening to you too Spike,” Whistler scowled at him, then turned a warm smile on Tara, “hello Tara.”
“Hi Whistler,” Tara replied with her own smile.
“Let me guess,” Spike drawled out sarcastically as he moved towards the fridge, “you’re here in a business like capacity.”
“I’ll be in my room,” Tara spoke up, “I should work on my science project anyway. We’ll do movie night another time. Night Whistler.”
“Good night,” Whistler replied as she left the room, “she really is a sweet girl-“
“What do you want Whistler?” Spike asked bluntly, pulling out a beer he knew he was going to need, “’cuz really, we had plans-“
“There’s a new Slayer who’s causing too much trouble.”
The beer bottle was halfway to his mouth when Whistler’s words hit him. He froze completely, letting the words sink in.
“Knew that would shut you up,” Whistler commented irritability.
Mention a Slayer and Spike was all ears.
Spike slowly put the beer down on the counter and turned around. By the time he was facing Whistler, a blood thirsty, almost savage grin was plastered on the vampire’s face.
“Well now, that’s another story. Been waitin’ since the seventies for one of those birds to star causing some trouble.”
Spike hadn’t had a real fight since then. Sure there had been some close calls, but nothing compared to fighting a Slayer. They were the ultimate enemy…the ultimate challenge and test of skills. Nothing made him feel more alive than when he was dancing with a Slayer.
The gleefully evil tone of Spike’s voice made Whistler shiver. Whenever the chance of fighting a Slayer came up, a flash of the old Spike came through. The Spike before he had become the Slayer of Slayers and came over (for the most part) to their side. It was downright scary in Whistler’s opinion.
“So what’s she done?” now Spike was eagerly pressing for details.
“Killed The Master.”
“As in great great grand sire? That Master?”
“Yes Spike,” Whistler rolled his eyes.
“Bloody hell. How long she’s been called?”
“Just over a year and a half.”
Spike gave a low, impressed whistle, “Damn. Only that much time under her belt and she dusted the head of the Aureliuns,” if possible, his grin grew even more, “this is gonna be fun!”
Anticipation was already singing through his body. He hadn’t even seen the girl yet and already he was buzzing with excitement. It was making him giddy it was. This was what he needed. What he craved. He was the Slayer of Slayers after all. There was more to the job, but when it came right down to it, that was what he was created to do. Slay the Slayer.
Spike was determined to leave as soon as possible, while Whistler was even more determined to make him hear all the facts first.
“The Master was trying to rise so he could open the Hellmouth.”
That right there made Spike pause.
“Really not seeing the issue with her then; Old Batface wasn’t exactly rooting for our side. Yeah, I get the whole wantin’ to make the world better suited to demon kind, but opening up a Hellmouth and bringing fourth the Old Ones? That’s just a stupid idea if ‘ve ever heard one.”
Whistler just scowled at him, looking as though he was slowly counting to ten.
“You’re right,” the demon replied after a moment, “opening the Hellmouth wasn’t a good idea. It was downright dangerous all around; just as many demons, mostly the good ones, would die.”
“Then it sounds as though the Slayer did us all a favour by stopping it,” was Spike’s reply, raised eyebrow and all.
Damn did Spike ever want to get it on with this new Slayer and he would take any excuse to do it, but he wasn’t getting why the Demon Council was so determined to see this one dead.
“By stopping the Old Ones, yes. By killing The Master, no. Hellmouths are volatile places; if you don’t have a hellva strong demon claiming ownership then it’s complete chaos. The Master was that demon, and now he’s dust. The Hellmouth needs a new keeper.”
“What about the Brat?” Spike interrupted, “The Anointed One? Doesn’t he fit the bill?”
“Not even close. Ideas of grandeur aside, the kid has no right to claim the Hellmouth, let alone the Aurelian line. Think anyone will agree to his rights for long? No, and that means there’s going to be a turf war there sooner rather than later, and it’ll get messy. What the Hellmouth needs is someone all sides would recognize has a right to the title. Say, a master vampire with a direct descent from The Master of the line of Aurelius…”
It took a moment for Whistler’s words to sink in, but when they did Spike began to argue.
“Oh no! No! There’s no bleedin’ way in hell ‘m gonna do that! Go to the Hellmouth and clean up Batface’s mess? Sure. Go kill the Slayer? Hell yes! Claim leadership of the Order? Bugger that!”
“Who else is there?” Whistler replied patiently, “the only vamp older than you is Angelus and he’s disqualified because of the curse. The only other two that could have qualified were Penn, he was dusted years ago, and Darla, who was killed a few months ago. Other than you, the only vamp who got enough Sire’s blood is Lawson, and he’s barely that. He wouldn’t do so well in that situation anyway; he prefers taking orders opposed to giving them. It’s all that military training from before he was turned.”
“There has to be someone else,” Spike countered, “anyone else.”
“Now you’re just whining.”
“I am not whining!” Spike growled, eyes flashing yellow, “getting stuck at a Hellmouth isn’t something I want, and I don’ wanna drag anyone else there with me. Besides, if I go and make the leadership claim, ’m stuck there permanently. How the bloody hell am I supposed to do my job from there?”
“You’re the Slayer of Slayers Spike,” Whistler reminded him patiently, “it’s your job to protect our part of the demon world in any way necessary, and from everyone, whether it be humans or other demons. All us peaceful types need someone on our side, and you’re the chosen champion. Any way possible. From killing Slayers, stopping the occasional apocalypse and even rescuing others like you did little Tara.”
“’Ve been at this a hundred years,” was Spike’s irritated reply, “Think I know my job.”
“Now that anyway possible is by keeping order at the Hellmouth. That’s where you’re needed now, and when the time comes you’re needed somewhere else for awhile, we’ll figure something out. This is not a choice Spike, but your Calling. This time you can’t refuse.”
Spike knew it was a lost cause just by the sound and tone of his Watcher’s voice. It was dead serious, not exasperated like it normally was when Spike argued. It was the tone reserved only for occasions where there really was no choice in the matter. No room for argument and no room for compromise.
“Fuck,” Spike muttered, picking up his beer and taking a long swig.
Whistler looked relieved that Spike was giving in without more of a fight. He had expected yelling and possibly even threats of violence.
“Fuck!” Spike was cursing now, “I don’ want the bloody responsibility of being master of anywhere, let alone a Hellmouth! I have enough as is, and adding on to havin’ control over every vampire that sets foot in the place plus any in the Order is too much!”
“Backing down from a challenge?” Whistler jumped at the ability to persuade.
Issue Spike a challenge and he wouldn’t back down until he proved his point or finished it.
Okay, Whistler amended, sometimes just because he gets bored, but there’ll be too much to do to get bored with this one.
Spike’s eyes narrowed. He knew exactly what Whistler was doing. He had been around long enough to know when someone was trying to manipulate him.
“’M goin’ anyway. You don’ have to try and convince me or make me like the idea.”
“Think of it this way- you get a Slayer out of it.”
Spike had to admit that going to the place did have its perks. If he had to stay there, at least killing the Slayer would give him something fun to do. He’d have to draw it out, make it last. He had done that with the last Slayer, the one back in New York; he had kept that going for a month, and that made killing the bint so much sweeter. This one he’s take his time with too. Hopefully she’d be worth it, because after she was gone all the fun work would be gone with her.
Whistler knew that he had appeased Spike somewhat by reminding him of the Slayer. Spike may be a pain in the ass most of the time, but Whistler was still his Watcher, and he preferred his Chosen One to at least be happy.
“So you going to call a meeting of the Spikettes or not?” He asked to break the silence.
“Would you not call them that!” Spike snapped, “They’re not some bleedin’ pop band or a cheer squad.”
Whistler just snorted, telling Spike how much he thought that last part rang true.
“Go find Lawson and Demon Girl,” Spike grit out, “they should be together by now. Probably shaggin’ like rabbits, so definitely together. I’ll get a hold of Irish, if actually answers his phone for once.”
Whistler nodded and teleported out of the room with a loud pop. Spike growled, chugged down the rest of his beer and made his way further into the house. It was a fairly large house with three bedrooms, a kitchen, two bathrooms, a fairly large sized living room that was perfect for ‘Spikette’ meetings, a library and a massive back room that was perfect for training and weapons storage.
Damnit, Spike thought as he climbed the stairs to the second floor, I like it here. Why the hell could The Master just been content bein’ stuck? He liked it underground after all. He should have been right at home.
Tara’s door was slightly open when he came to it. Soft, new agey music was drifting out of the room, and Spike could hear Tara’s soft voice singing along. He smiled despite his mood. Then the smile abruptly disappeared when he remembered what he was here to tell her.
He wasn’t the only one who was happy here. Spike knew Tara was, despite little upsets like tonight. He knew the others were too. Spike also knew it wouldn’t be fair to ask them to leave just because he had to.
“Spike, I know you’re there,” Tara’s voice spoke up, “you can come in.”
Spike opened the door the rest of the way but didn’t go in. He stayed in the hallway, only planning to stay for a few moments. Tara was sitting cross legged on her bed, books open all around her and sheets of paper and a pen held in her hand.
“Got a meeting,” he informed her, “Whistler went for Anyanka and Lawson and I gotta get hold of Doyle.”
“Something bad?” Tara’s face held worry and concern.
Yes, Spike’s mind said but out loud, “not per say, but ‘m gonna tell you all at once. Less chance of losin’ my temper that was.”
Tara looked intrigued at the answer.
“I’ll call Doyle,” she told him, “you go hit something while we wait for everyone to get here. Blow off some steam so you won’t lose your temper al all.”
“Sounds like a plan,” Spike smiled at how well the girl knew him, “ come get me when they’re all here yeah?”
l.l.l.l
Twenty-five minutes later Tara peeked her head through the training room door.
Spike was taking his frustrations out on a punching bag. His fists connected with it with brutal force. He wasn’t pulling his punches or taking it easy because he knew that that was no way to work out his anger.
“Spike,” Tara’s voice interrupted him mid swing, “everyone’s here.”
He let his fist fall to his side instead of finishing the punch. When he turned to face the door Tara had already left. With a deep sigh he followed her. Spike could have used a cigarette right then, but knew it was better to get this over with than take a much needed cigarette break.
When he walked into the living room everyone was waiting for him. Tara was sitting on one end of the couch, legs tucked under her and a small blush on her face as Doyle, who sat sprawled on the other end, flirted with her. Lawson was sitting in one of the arm chairs with Anyanka perched on one of the arms. She was complaining about their evening being interrupted while Lawson half listened, taking a break every once and a while to tell Doyle to leave Tara in peace.
“If you want I could use my charms on the lovely Anyanka here,” Doyle replied, to which Lawson scowled, “just like I figured.”
Spike rolled his eyes, slapping the half demon upside the head as he passed behind the couch.
“Leave Glinda alone,” he told him, “and stop baiting Lawson. Flirtin’ with a vampire’s lover is a sure way to get your throat ripped out. Though I do believe Demon Girl would whip you into next Tuesday before he could.”
“Ah Spike, didn’t know you cared,” Doyle said, to which Spike only gave a shake of his head, “’Sides, Tara here knows I’m joking, don’t you sweetheart?”
“Of-of course,” Tara replied sincerely, “you flirt with all the girls.”
“Only the pretty ones,” Doyle said with a wink
“Maybe you should try the not so pretty ones,” Anyanka spoke up, “you might not get turned down all the time.”
Spike started snickering at that, and even Lawson and Tara couldn’t hold in a small snort.
“Anyanka you wound me,” Doyle mock flinched, placing a hand over his heart.
She shrugged before turning her attention to Spike “Why are we here? This better be important. You know Sam and I have plans.”
“Yeah, I do happen to recall something like that,” Spike replied, and then remembered the conversation they had had outside the club.
Spike wondered if Anyanka had ‘talked’ to Lawson yet. He switched his focus to the other vampire and raised an eyebrow. From the way Lawson shifted slightly and looked a tad uncomfortable, Spike assumed she had. He smirked at that before turning his attention back to the room.
It was then he clued in that someone was missing.
“Where’s Whistler?” he asked, to which Lawson responded.
“He left after he found Anyanka and I. Told us to come here and then mentioned having to talk to the Council.”
“Course he did,” Spike grumbled under his breath, “couldn’t have waited a bloody hour.”
“You want Whistler here?” Doyle’s voice held a twinge of bewilderment, “is the world ending? Because if it is, I’ve got some things I’d love to do before hand.”
“If the world was ending then Whistler would be here for sure,” Lawson told him, knowing Doyle should have realized that.
“The worlds not endin’,” Spike explained to the assembled group around him, “seems my presence is needed in California.”
“What’s in California?” Tara was the first to ask.
“First off there’s a Slayer there that’s been causin’ trouble and then there’s a Hellmouth that needs tendin’ to in a long term kinda way. Apparently I’m the vamp to do it.”
“Permanent? As in live there?” Anyanka spoke up, “because Hellmouths in general are horrible places to live. Good for vengeance most of the time, but not to stay and live on.”
“Don’t gotta choice,” was Spike’s reply, and in his tone it was easy to hear the displeasure at that fact, “but doesn’t mean you lot have to come with me. I’d ‘preciate it, but not gonna force you when this is a long term deal.”
“I go where you go,” Lawson replied without hesitation, “you know that Chief.”
Spike felt a rush of gratitude for the unwavering loyalty from the vampire who had seemed to adopt him not only as a friend but a Sire. It was good to know that he’d have someone along; Spike didn’t do alone very well.
“I will have to get approval from D’Hoffryn to move if it’s long term,” Anyanka was more or less thinking out loud, “I can do vengeance just as well for there. I’m sure there’s a large market for it, so it shouldn’t be a problem,” her smile brightened considerably as her eyes flashed to Lawson, “besides, if I stay I will have to give up many spectacular orgasms.”
If his blood circulated properly Lawson would have been blushing. He gave Anyanka a sheepish smile, clearly agreeing with her but still a little embarrassed. Spike couldn’t help but smirk. It amused him to no end that, of all the human traits Lawson could have kept after turning, it was that sense of propriety that came out on top after his sense of loyalty.
“Me, I’m lookin’ forward to a change of venue,” Doyle remarked, “a change of scenery sounds nice.”
“So does getting away without settling a number of gambling debts,” Anyanka remarked shrewdly.
Doyle just shrugged his shoulders unapologetically. Spike rolled his eyes. He’d have to keep their departure secret until they were gone, otherwise Doyle’d get his legs broken before they could leave. He didn’t want to listen to the half demon bitch and moan all the way to California.
“Well then Glinda,” Spike turned to the only member of the group who hadn’t given their answer, “it’s down to you. If you wanna stay, I’ll understand. You got school here and all that, plus your magic teacher. More ties and all that. If you wanna stay I’ll make sure the Council keeps you set up real nice, and gives you money to come visit. Summer vacation of the Hellmouth sounds good, yeah?”
“No,” was Tara’s reply.
Spike tried not to let his disappointment show, but he couldn’t stop his face from falling a bit. It damn near broke his heart, the thought of leaving her behind. Out of all of them, it was the empathic witch that he held the soft spot for.
“I mean no I’m not staying,” Tara told him with a soft smile, reassuring Spike once she saw his face fall, “we’re family, all of us. There’s nothing in this world that could make me break that up.”
Spike sighed in relief and the others’ faces echoed the same sentiment. If their little group was indeed a family, then Tara was the heart of it.
“Besides,” Tara’s voice was teasing, “who else is going to put up with your moods and never complain when they get saddled with all the research?”
“You’re a saint Tara,” Doyle agreed with a wink, which inspired an eye roll all around.
Spike knew that he was close to expressing his complete and utter gratitude in a way that’d make him sound like a total ponce. Instead of letting that happen, he spoke up in the gruffest voice possible.
“Right then. Looks like we’re headin’ to the Hellmouth.”
squawks
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!
05/18/17 04:16 am
pj! I remember wishing one of your stories would be finished seriously about a decade ago. Amazing. I just tried an old password I used to use and amazingly got in too. Memories!
pj
03/20/17 01:20 am
10 yrs later, i finally rem my username and password. Pari, you rock. Hope you are well.
Rabbit_moon1
12/23/16 01:12 pm
I donate every month. Please donate to keep this site up!
AudryDaluz1
10/06/16 08:34 am
Great post.
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:45 pm
And anyone else who loves this site, it's worth mentioning there's a nifty little "Donate" option just below the shout box here! ;)
Chrissel
08/31/16 03:43 pm
Just wanted to take a moment to thank Pari and all the mods for maintaining such a great site!