Rating: This part is PG. I'm not sure about the rest yet, but be warned that it could turn NC-17 later, so if you don't read NC-17, don't read this one until it's finished.
Genre: AU/Dark Romance/Drama
Warnings: None so far, but there will probably be some characters' deaths later on.
Summary: It's three years after the events that took place in the BtVS series finale. The town of Sunnydale is back and so is some of the old gang, but no one is like they used to be.
Author's Note: This story provides an alternate future for Spike. It's strictly BtVS, so the events regarding Spike in Season 5 of AtS have been disregarded.
Disclaimer: Everyone knows I own nothing, these characters least of all.
Acknowledgments: 1) This story was inspired by a challenge from the wonderful Jade. A world of thanks to her for the inspiration, all her help with the details of the story and for getting me to write again. If you like my writing and you're happy to see a new story written by me, thank Jade, I owe this one to her! :) 2) As always, my gratitude goes to Jenni, my most wonderful and unfailingly supportive beta! :)
Website: Blood and Fire
Feedback: Hell, yes! Love it, hate it, wondering about my state of mind? Tell me all about it! Send it to: lathria@sbcglobal.net
Distribution: Red's Soulmates can have. Anyone else, you can have too, just let me know where you're taking my babies.
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~Part: 1~
The rusted Pontiac Sunbird sputtered into town, past the sign that read 'Welcome to Sunnydale.' Spike adjusted the rearview mirror and inspected his reflection. After three years, the sight of his own reflection was still both comforting and startling. Shrugging off the odd feeling, he turned into one of the main roads and headed for the downtown area. It would be sunset in a couple of hours; he was anxious to find lodging and have a look around town.
A massive earthquake, a freak occurrence, that's what the newspapers
had called the otherwise inexplicable disappearance of an entire town in
a matter of minutes. Greed overruling common sense, the dust had not yet
settled before the developers had moved in and begun reconstruction of
the town of Sunnydale. The vampires and demons had soon followed. The newly
rebuilt town was smaller than the old one, but not much different. There
was the same assortment of oblivious humans wandering the streets when
they should have been racing for the safety of their homes. Spike glanced
at them with disgust as he continued to drive slowly down the four-lane
road, wondering for the hundredth time what had possessed him to return.
Sure, technically he was one of them now, a human, and that had to mean
something. There was also the whole issue of a conscience to contend with.
But even if he was human, Spike knew that in reality he would never be
'one of them.' He had lived too long, seen too much.
Sometimes he felt as if he was more of an outsider amongst humans
than he had been amongst the vampires when he was 'chipped'. Vampires were
resilient creatures who took things in stride. If one of them happened
to get a government issued chip implanted into his brain, well, shit happens.
Humans, Spike had found out, were not quite as receptive to the idea of
'one of them' who happened to be a one-hundred and fifty year old ex-vampire.
Why then, was he risking his life by returning to the hell mouth in a most
likely futile effort to avert yet another apocalypse? That was a question
to which Spike wasn't sure he wanted to know the answer.
The red 'vacancy' sign caught his attention and Spike pulled into the parking lot of the small motel. He chuckled to himself as he slung the backpack over his shoulder and headed for the entrance. The town sure brought back memories. Only a decade earlier he would have located the nearest graveyard and appropriated himself of a nice, cozy crypt to serve as his temporary home while he wreaked havoc on the slayer and her little group of misfits. But those days were behind him, Spike reminded himself. As he approached the desk inside the lobby of the motel, he carefully inspected his surroundings. The place was deserted and quiet. People were stupid enough to live on the hell mouth, but apparently not stupid enough to vacation there. The middle-aged man sitting behind the counter didn't bother to look up at Spike's approach.
"Need a room, mate."
"Forty dollars for the night, paid in advance," the clerk barked from behind his T.V Guide.
Spike thought to protest the price but quickly reconsidered, not wanting to call attention to himself. The fact that the man had not asked for a credit card, or even a driver's license, did not go unnoticed. Apparently the 'don't ask if you don't really want to know' policy was still operative in the new Sunnydale. Retrieving his wallet, Spike counted out eighty dollars and placed them on the counter - no sense paying in advance for a long-term stay at the hell mouth. As the man stood and walked toward the back of the office, Spike signed the registration book that lay open on top of the counter. William S. Bloodwell was the name he had been using for the last couple of years.
Key in hand, he headed for his assigned room on the second floor. On his way, he grabbed a day-old newspaper that lay abandoned on a chair.
The room was small and sparse, but well suited to his needs. Flopping down on the bed, Spike leafed through the newspaper, ignoring the articles about the local cultural fair and the grand opening of the new five and dime store. A headline on page six caught his attention: "Three dead bodies discovered at construction site." The article went on to detail the discovery of the bloodless bodies of two dead security guards and one still unidentified individual at the site where a new mini-mall was being built. The writer expressed his regret at the fact that the 'sudden rash of violent gang activity in the vicinity of the site' would delay the long awaited opening of the mini-mall for another month, while police conducted their investigation.
The lack of blood in the bodies clearly indicated that the killings were the work of vampires -- not exactly what he was looking for. Vampires in the Hell Mouth were old news. There were no reports in the newspaper of any other unusual occurrences and Spike set it aside. First order of business was to get in contact with the slayer. He had heard through the grapevine that both slayers and most of the 'slayerettes' had survived their near-miss with the last apocalypse. He hoped that at least one of them had stuck around for the encore.
Spike quickly changed his clothes, discarding his tennis shoes and jean jacket in favor of his black duster and steel-toe boots. The amulet that he usually wore around his neck was set neatly into his bag. Stepping into the bathroom, Spike carefully slicked his freshly bleached hair back and examined his reflection. He hoped the tough guy facade was enough to repel any old acquaintances he may run into. If he didn't get too close to any demons, they may not even realize that he was human. A stake tucked in the waistband of his pants and a pack of cigarettes in his coat pocket, Spike headed out of the room.
Once outside, he drove slowly down the town's streets, keeping his eyes
open for a familiar face or any sign of trouble - he saw neither. As he
continued to drive, he wondered what had become of the old gang. He had
heard rumors over the years. Droopy Boy had gone to Africa, the witch and
her slayer friend to South America. Buffy and Faith were still around,
but not actively slaying, and the Poof was raising hell, sometimes literally,
in L.A. He had only half listened to the stories. Whether or not they were
true, it had all been water under the bridge as far as he was concerned.
He was human now, one of the ignorant masses. It was his reward for saving
the world and he had intended to take full advantage of it, leave the crusading
against evil to those younger and stupider than him. That was, until he
had heard rumors of renewed activity in the Hell Mouth. He had tried to
tell himself a hundred times that it wasn't his problem. His life was finally
beginning to settle down. It had
been rough going at first; his resume consisting of a century
of draining the blood from the innocent and wreaking havoc around the world,
followed by a short stint as an anonymous hero. But he had managed to find
his niche, get a hold of a fabricated identity, and had started writing
again. Had even published a couple of poems. But he had not been able to
ignore the pull of his past. It was as if something was dragging him back,
compelling him to sacrifice everything he had accomplished, for what, he
didn't know.
A tall man with a head of dark hair caught his attention and Spike brought the car to a halt. The vaguely familiar figure disappeared into a building and Spike took note of the sign posted above the door before proceeding to the corner and turning to circle the block. A few minutes later he had parked the car and entered the nearly deserted bar. It didn't take him long to spot the man. He was sitting at the far side of the counter, gazing dispassionately at a nearly full bottle of beer and an empty shot glass. Spike squinted his eyes, trying to get a better look across the dimly lit room. He was sure that he had been mistaken and was about to walk back out when the man raised his head and motioned to the bartender - that's when Spike saw the distinct eye patch.
He approached slowly, still not certain that the wreck of a man sitting at the bar, hungrily eyeing the amber liquid that the bartender poured into his glass, was whom he thought it was.
"Xander, is that you, mate?"
The man startled at the sound of Spike's voice. He whirled around, knocking over the freshly filled glass and spilling its contents across the bar.
"You're paying for that, Xander!" the bartender barked.
Xander didn't react. He continued to stare at Spike, his mouth slightly agape. After a moment, Spike took a bill out of his pocket and placed it on the bar.
"I got it," he told the bartender as he motioned for two more glasses and took a seat next to a still gaping Xander.
"You couldn't stay away either, could you, mate?"
"You, you, you are dead!"
Spike's gaze narrowed. "Yeah, well, been there, done that, damned boring if you want to know. So, what do you think is going on around here?"
Xander shrugged, returning his attention to the free alcohol being placed in front of him, apparently resigned to the inevitable weirdness that was life in the hell mouth. "I don't know what you're talking about."
Spike could tell by the other man's slurred speech that this was probably not the first bar that he had visited that day, and if his disheveled appearance was any indication, the drinking binge was only the latest in a series. Spike had been there often enough to recognize the signs of a man who was tethering dangerously close to the edge. Still, drunk or not, surely an ex-Scoobie and do-gooder like Xander would be in the know if any evil was lurking. Every instinct told Spike that something wasn't right and he decided to proceed with caution. He sipped his drink, trying to appear nonchalant.
"I just got here, but I've heard rumors about some goings on, figured you of all people would have the scoop."
Xander shrugged. "I've been back for two months. It's the hell mouth, weird shit going on all the time."
"Well, yeah, mate. But there's weird, and then there's apocalyptic weird. I was asking about the second kind."
Spike tapped his fingers impatiently on the counter while he waited for Xander to drain his shot of whiskey and chase it down with a large gulp of beer. He hoped that the man was too drunk to notice that he had not touched his. Spike had discovered, the hard way, that his human body did not have the same tolerance for alcohol that his vampiric self had. Only one of the many drawbacks he had discovered along the way. On good days, all trade offs seemed minor compared to the opportunity to live out his life as a human. And then there were those days ... Xander's gruff voice interrupted his thoughts.
"If you came back looking for her, you can move on, she is not here. And no, you can't threaten me into telling you where she is, because frankly, I'm not much with the caring lately."
There was a slight edge in Xander's voice, which Spike dismissed as the remnants of the boy's former arrogance. It was the implication in the words that caused him to bristle.
"I didn't come here looking for the sodding slayer! Well, actually, I am looking for a slayer, but not for the reason you think - and not her!"
A sinister smile twisted Xander's lips, causing the hairs on Spike's neck to stand up. He watched as Xander slid from the barstool to stand next to him.
"You don't even know why you're here, but whatever it is you're looking for, you're not going to find it. Leave while you still have a chance."
The effect of Xander's ominous words was lessened by his slurred speech and Spike almost laughed at how empty the veiled threat sounded. He casually turned toward his still full glass and downed the content in one swallow. The boy is as unimpressive as ever, even to a human, he thought.
"I'll leave when I'm bloody ready!" Spike spat defiantly.
"It's your funeral."
The blow that followed Xander's words caught Spike off guard and sent him reeling off the stool.
"What the bloody hell is your problem?" Spike exclaimed as he regained his footing and turned around to confront his attacker. Aside from a stunned bartender and a few nervous-looking customers, the bar's floor was empty. Xander was gone.
~Part: 2~
Once back on the street, Spike deeply inhaled the crisp, night air and rubbed his jaw. For someone that looked like death warmed-over twice, Xander still packed a powerful punch. A quick glance up and down the street told Spike that Xander was long gone. He decided to follow the only other clue he had, the construction site mentioned in the newspaper article.
It didn't take him long to find it. The large steel frame stood above all other surrounding buildings, like a monument to consumerism and a beacon to credit card holding suburbanites everywhere. He parked a half-block distance away and approached the site on foot, effortlessly jumping over the low fence. There was no sign of a watchman, or anyone for that matter. The place was deserted and quiet. Spike roamed around until he found the chalk outlines that marked the spot of the latest killings. A large pool of what appeared to be dried blood nearby caught his attention. It must have been some damned sloppy vampires to have wasted so much blood on the ground, but again, one never knew with fledglings, or perhaps it was the work of minions. A beam of moonlight reflected off something on the ground a few feet in front of him and Spike walked over to the spot, dropping down on one knee to take a closer look. He picked up the object and examined it closely. It was a woman's earring, the long, dangling kind that gypsies or hookers normally wore. The three victims had been males. The piece of jewelry could belong to the killer . or to some teenager who had recently taken advantage of the isolated spot for a night of fun. Nevertheless, he put the earring in his pocket.
A small sound, like a low whistle, reached his ears and Spike froze. The sound had been too faint for him to determine its origin, so he waited until he heard a second sound. This time he identified it as a female voice, but it was too far away for him to make out any words. He cautiously approached the source of the voice, squinting his eyes to better see in the almost impenetrable darkness. The voice became more distinct as he approached. There was something familiar about it, and he could make out that it was calling his name. He slowly retrieved the stake from his back pocket before calling out. "Who's there?"
A slim, female figure stepped out from behind a steel beam. She was dressed in tight, black leather, her face was brightly painted and her skin shone with an unearthly pallor, but there was no mistaking the mane of vibrant red hair. He was about to call out her name when instinct alerted him that someone, or something, was standing close behind him -- too close. Stake in hand, he twirled around and met with a flying fist. It struck him square on the jaw and knocked him off balance. Before he could identify his attacker, the stake was knocked off his hand and a swift kick to the chest sent him to the ground flat on his back. Spike shook his head and tried to focus his eyes. It was the second time in one night that he had been caught off guard by an opponent; the time he had spent as a human must have cost him his edge.
A tall figure stood above him, booted feet firmly planted on each side of his prone body.
"Oh, it's you," the figure observed with a slight hint of disappointment in her voice.
"Who the bloody hell else did you think it was?" Spike grumbled as he took the proffered hand of his opponent. To be so easily bested in a fight was bad enough, that he had been beaten by the slayer was a little too much like old times.
He gripped her hand firmly and raised his upper body, then quickly twisted her wrist and crisscrossed his legs around one of her knees before rolling onto his side. The momentum sent the slayer spinning to the ground, face first. Before she had a chance to retaliate, Spike disentangled his legs and jumped to his feet, a mischievous grin on his face. It was small satisfaction after their last encounter, but long overdue payback as far as he was concerned.
It had been shortly after he had been returned to Earth as a human. For the first time he had experienced loneliness as he hadn't in over one-hundred years, not even as a souled vampire. Even with the soul, he had maintained the reassurance of power and invincibility that came with near immortality. He had been susceptible, but not fallible. As a human, with the certain knowledge of a limited amount of time in the world allotted to him and the specter of death looming in the horizon, he had felt an urgency to set things straight once and for all. Finding Buffy seemed the logical thing to do at the time. She had told him she loved him. Sure, it had been at a moment when she thought that he was doomed and she would never see him again, but a part of him still had wanted to believe. And even if she had not meant it at the time, surely his sacrifice to save the world, compounded by the fact that he had managed to do what only one other vampire had ever done before, regain his humanity, had to account for something. It had been the most stupid mistake of his un-life.
"If you weren't alive, I would kill you!" the slayer spat as she jumped to her feet.
"Yeah, well, if I wasn't alive, I would kill you too!"
"I guess it sucks that you're human, then."
The slight pout on the slayer's lips reminded Spike of the young girl he had met not ten years earlier; vulnerable and defiant, young and wise, all at once. The memory stirred unwelcome feelings in him. "More than you know, slayer," he mumbled under his breath.
"What?"
Spike had been unaware that he had spoken his feelings aloud. "Nothing. I guess the two of you are here for the same reason I am."
Buffy looked around, a confused expression on her face. "Two of us? Maybe I hit you too hard, 'cause there's only one of me, Spike."
It was Spike's turn to be confused, he could have sworn. "I thought I saw someone else."
Buffy frowned. "Who?"
Spike almost blurted out an answer, but thought better of it. It was possible that he had mistaken the identity of the other woman; it had been a long time since he had seen any of the Scoobies, and his night vision wasn't what it used to be. So far, nothing had been what he had expected; perhaps it was best if he kept his peace and let the slayer do the talking, find out first what she knew.
"I don't know, just someone. I assumed whoever it was, was with you. What are you doing here?"
Buffy shrugged. "Not sure. Giles called me out of the blue, said there was something going on here and he asked me if I could come down take a look. The Council doesn't think it's any big deal, but Giles has one of his funny feelings and said he would feel better if I checked it out. Don't you think we should go find that person you saw?"
"Nah, probably long gone by now. Do you have a place where we can go and talk, exchange notes so to speak."
A suspicious expression came over Buffy's face. "I don't really have a place, just a room at the motel. We could go for coffee, if you want. You know, like humans do."
"Sure, or we can go prowl through the graveyard stalking evil creatures while we talk."
Buffy's face lit up. "Sounds like a plan!"
~Part: 3~
It was shortly after midnight when Spike and Buffy entered the graveyard. They had not run into any demons on their way there, which was in itself unusual.
"So, you said the Council is back together?"
"Sort of. They are still working out the details, trying to get organized for what Giles said."
"Wankers can't agree whether they should serve tea or coffee, or both, at their meetings, uh?"
Buffy nodded emphatically. "Pretty much." "They offered me a position as a Watcher!" she added a bit more enthusiastically.
A commotion broke out at the other end of the cemetery, interrupting their conversation. After only a slight hesitation, Buffy took off at a dead run, followed closely by Spike. A figure stepped suddenly out of the shadows and collided with Buffy, sending them both to the ground. In the background, Spike saw the same woman he had seen earlier at the construction site. She was standing about twelve feet away and their eyes locked for an instant before she turned around and seemingly disappeared into thin air. This time, there was no doubt in his mind as to who she was. He was about to give chase when a low groan coming from the two figures on the ground captured his attention. Buffy had regained her footing and was standing next to bloody and disheveled Xander. The young man's eyes were wide as he stared up at Buffy from where he sat on the ground.
"Xander! What happened? What are you doing here?"
Xander seemed unable to answer the slayer's questions. He continued to glance nervously over his shoulder, his mouth open but no sound coming from it. Buffy and Spike's eyes followed to the spot where the man kept looking.
"What the hell?" Buffy whispered.
They approached the site cautiously. Xander got to his feet and followed apprehensively. Strewn on the ground were several large, strategically placed stones. Scattered around were what appeared to be bones. Ashes and soot covered the area, as if something had been recently incinerated there. The stench of burnt flesh carried in the breeze and Buffy put a hand to her mouth. "Is that what I think it is?"
Spike nodded as he pointed to a fragment of skull that was unmistakably human.
"Xander, what happened here?"
The boy seemed shaken and frightened. "I was on my way home when I ran across . this," he said, pointing at the revolting sight before him. "I was running for help when I ran into you."
Buffy's wide eyes shifted nervously between the man and the human remains smoldering on the ground. Spike was not convinced. Something told him that Xander knew more than what he was saying; he decided to press him for more information. "That doesn't make sense; the kind of fire that would take to incinerate a body like this would have been visible from at least a mile. Had to burn for a while too. You didn't see anything else?"
Xander swallowed hard and shuffle his feet. "There is something else."
Xander paused and Spike grew impatient. "Well, spit it out. mate!"
"What is it, Xander, what else did you see?" Buffy urged.
"Well, there was someone here, standing right over there." He pointed to a spot three feet away from where they stood. "Buffy, it was Willow."
Spike's heart lurched in his chest at the implication of the other's words. Buffy shook her head in denial. "Xander, are you sure? No one's heard from Willow in almost a year. Why would she be here? Unless she heard that something was going on and she came to investigate, like we did! Where did she go?"
Xander shook his head. "Buffy, you don't understand. She was here, standing over that body, and when she saw me, she attacked me."
Buffy frowned. "No, that doesn't make any sense, why would she attack you? Maybe you startled her, maybe she didn't recognize you at first. Where did she go?"
"Buffy, she is a vampire," Xander interrupted.
"What?" Both Buffy and Spike exclaimed in unison.
"A vampire. You know. Undead thing, large fangs, super strength, pale skin, mean temper. Surely you've seen one before."
Buffy's eyes filled with tears as she continued to shake her head in denial. "No, it probably wasn't her. It couldn't be her. It wouldn't make any sense, why would she be here?"
"It was her," Spike announced somberly.
Buffy whirled around, her eyes accusing him angrily. "How would you know?"
"I saw her. She was standing over there." He pointed to the spot where he had last seen the woman. "I saw her earlier, too, at the construction site. I wasn't sure then, but I am now; it was Willow. But, she didn't do this."
Xander's eyes narrowed. "What do you mean? She was the only one here, her and whoever that was," he pointed at the skull on the ground, "he is dead and she is gone, case closed. Besides, you said you saw her at the construction site. Isn't that where those bodies were found two days ago?"
Spike nodded slowly. "True. But you said she is a vampire now, right?"
Xander nodded. "Vampire, dead bodies, makes sense to me."
"I hate to dismantle your theory, Sherlock . actually, no, I don't, I'll enjoy it immensely, but that's not the point. This is not the work of a vampire, neither were the killings at the construction site. Vampires drink blood, they don't irrigate the ground with it, and they certainly don't like their meal well-done."
Buffy nodded her agreement. "Spike is right, Xander. Even if the woman you saw was Willow, and even if she is a vampire, this doesn't look like the work of any vampire I've seen."
Xander sighed deeply. "You two are forgetting one thing, Willow is not like any vampire we've seen. Before she was turned, she was a witch, a very powerful one. Or did you both already forget what happened the last time that Willow went evil, the way she skinned and barbecued Warren, before setting out to end the world?"
"So what you're saying is that Willow is now an evil vampire witch that drinks blood *and* flambés people?"
Xander nodded and Buffy turned hopeful eyes to Spike. He wished he could deny it, but as much as he hated to admit it, what Xander was saying made sense. Vampire or not, Willow had proven in the past that she not only had the disposition but the means to pull something like this off, not to mention bring on an apocalypse. Her unexplained presence at both scenes and the fact that she was a vampire and thus predisposed to evil, made her the most likely suspect. Buffy must have seen Spike's thoughts reflected on his expression, because she turned her face away without a word.
After a moment, she looked up again, her slayer demeanor back in place. "Ok, if that's the case, then we deal with it like we would any other demonic threat. We need to work together to find out what she is up to and how to stop her. Xander, do you have a place in town?"
Xander lowered his head sheepishly. "Not really. I had a room at the Sunnydale Inn, but I ran out of money three weeks ago. I've been camping out under the bridge by the park since."
Buffy nodded. "I have a room at the same motel; you can stay with me."
"I have a room there too," Spike interjected.
"Good, then you can stay in your own room. We need to get back to the motel and get in touch with Giles. I doubt the local library has much along the lines of occult texts, we'll need him to send us some books and do some research for us."
Spike only half listened to the Slayer's plan. Everything seemed to make perfect sense, powerful witch gets turned into a vampire, goes all evil and returns to the Hell Mouth to carry out her plan to destroy the world. Still, his gut was telling him that not everything was so cut and dry. He couldn't put his finger on it, but there was something just not right.
"You two go back to the motel and call the librarian, I'll catch up with you later."
"Spike, I don't think it's safe for you to go around town alone, especially now that you're human."
Spike frowned at the slayer's words. So what if he was human, so were her and the moron, and he had over a century of experience over the both of them. The implication that he now needed her of all people to protect him angered him.
"Don't worry about me slayer, it's not like you ever did!" he spat before turning on his heel and walking away.
Maybe he didn't have the answer to the puzzle, but he knew who did and human or not, he was going to get it from her.
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