Pairing: none yet, Willow/Spike friendship
Disclaimer: I do not own anyone from BtVS or Disney's Gargoyles
Distribution: Bite Me, WLS, NHA, WWW, Twisting the Hellmouth - anyone else please ask first.
note: Things diverged in S4. Willow & Spike have now moved to New York, where Willow accepted a position from Mr. David Xanatos as a teacher for a group of cloned gargoyles.
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Spike had placed the gargoyle on the couch, unwilling to leave any gargoyle alone in a park, unconscious and helpless. Even if she was the one that the rest feared, claiming that she'd tried to destroy humanity. He wouldn't just leave her out there. She wouldn't have been safe.
Of course, he'd been shocked when the sun rose, and instead of becoming stone, her body had changed, becoming to all appearances human. It had looked pretty painful, actually. But how had it happened? How could a gargoyle be human, or a human be a gargoyle?
He'd drowsed off, sitting in a chair where he'd been watching her, questions dancing in his head. Something woke him up, a soft noise, but it brought him alert. After a moment, he realized the noise had come from her, the red haired gargoyle who looked human now. She was waking up, the leather couch creaking slightly as she stirred..
"You sound hung over. Feel up to some water?" His voice wasn't loud, but he knew that she heard him.
She hadn't opened her eyes yet, and one hand had moved to rest over them. Her voice cracked a bit, sounding hoarse as she answered with a single faint word. "Yes."
Spike came back with a glass of water, and carefully sat beside her on the couch, slipping an arm behind her to slowly raise her to a more seated position. "Here you go. Might want to drink it slowly."
As his arm slid over her back, she seemed to tense. Carefully, she sipped the water, her eyes a dark bluish green. Really, she was quite attractive. After the glass was empty, she looked at him, as if trying to figure something out. Her tongue flickered over her lips, the movement apparently unplanned and entirely sensual, as she glanced around the room.
Finally, she spoke, her voice puzzled. "Who are you? Where am I?"
Spike waited until she'd made herself a bit more comfortable. "I'm Spike, and this is my apartment. Mine and Red's, anyhow. You passed out after last night's big ritual, and I didn't want to leave you in the park."
"You... helped me. But... you're human. Why would you... why would a human help a gargoyle?" She sounded puzzled, her voice already less hoarse. One hand reached up, dragging through her hair, the wild mass of red tendrils in disarray.
The opportunity was too perfect, and he couldn't quite resist. "In case you hadn't noticed, you're looking rather human yourself, about now. Which is a bit of a puzzle, really, considering that you were a gargoyle last night."
She twitched, and looked at her very human seeming hand. "There was a spell. But... you helped me. Why?"
"I've got a soft spot for gargoyles. One of them saved me, years ago in London. I would... well, I don't know if they would have killed me, or just beat me up and robbed me. I got rescued." Spike paused, half lost in the memory. "Of course, I was scared half to death by the sight of him. Big fellow, probably eight feet, dark red skin, pair of horns... And he saved me. Helped me back to my feet, asked if I was okay. And like a damn fool, I asked what he was. A Gargoyle, he said. Left a rather good impression."
"I thought... they didn't mention any red gargoyles in London." Her voice sounded soft, half worried, half thoughtful. It was obvious that she was referring to something, a memory that made little sense to Spike.
With a small shrug, Spike looked at her. "He's probably long dead. It was over two hundred years ago that he saved me."
"Two hundred... but humans don't live that long!" She looked at him, shocked.
"Well, no, humans don't. I didn't. Got turned into a vampire." Part of him hoped that she wouldn't pull away, wouldn't look at him as a monster and a threat. Another part wondered why he cared how she reacted.
"A vampire... you aren't acting like most vampires that I've met. All... mindless hunger and the sense of a drunken watchman. Why are you here then, with the witch? And where is she, anyhow?" Her words were thoughtful, as if she was trying to consider carefully before making a decision.
Spike nodded, considering her words about the vampires that she'd met. "Probably run into mostly minions then. Stupid, expendable... mainly just there to put another body between the one in charge and any enemies. As for Willow, she's in her room, sleeping. That was a big spell."
"There are different types of vampires?" She looked surprised.
Frowning, he tried to explain the difference. "It's not quite that pronounced. They're still vampires, with the same limits and strength, they're just... dumb. A lot of them weren't smart to begin with, and it's harder for someone to make the change if they're only given a little of their Sire's blood. So, you end up with someone with the strength to kick down doors, and the brainpower of an ox. Good for simple orders, and for keeping enemies busy, but... they aren't there to think, or to keep you company. The ones that you don't spot as easy are the true Childer. The ones who are carefully chosen, not just the first warm body you happen to grab. It's done carefully, so they don't have to fight to change, and they're carefully taught how to be vampires."
"So... why are you with her then? Considering that she's human." The woman paused, looking at the water glass. "Don't vampires just eat humans?"
"Spike's smarter than the average vampire." Willow's voice was groggy, and she was leaning against the doorway. "need water..."
Spike just sighed, thinking that Willow looked pretty bad. Paler than normal, maybe paler than he was, with dark circles under her eyes and her hair sticking up wildly. Silly chit should still be in bed. But while Willow had several virtues, a healthy sense of self-preservation didn't seem to be one of them.
Willow came back, putting a mug of blood down in front of Spike, and another glass of water in front of their guest. She stared in puzzlement at the woman on the couch. "Why is Ms Destine in our living room? And why... oh... she is the blue gargoyle. Thought her aura looked funny."
"She said it was a spell. Remember, I didn't want to leave her in the park?" Spike grinned just a bit at Willow.
"Ummm. Right. Different look than the suits... probably for the wings... That explains the transformative signiture. It was nice casting with you. Gonna go back to sleep now..." Willow gave a smile, and a small wave before staggering back into her room. As she left, there was a mumbled "Red haired gargoyle women... seems to be the majority..."
The woman that Willow had called Ms Destine and the gargoyles had called Demona just stared after Willow. "She seems too young to be that powerful. And so calm... or is that the exhaustion?"
"It's the exhaustion. Otherwise she'd be overflowing with questions. She got saved by a pair of gargoyles too, about twelve years back or so. One of them had red hair. Funny thing about Willow, she seems to be getting along better with the non-humans here in New York than she ever did with the humans back at her hometown." He leaned back, lighting a cigarette.
"Is she part fae?" The question just slipped out of the woman.
"Far as she knows, Willow's human. Some of the folks here would be willing to adopt her, but that's not the same thing. What should we call you anyhow?" Spike sipped at his mug of blood, savoring the taste.
"I suppose Demona is as good as anything else. Although my human identity is Dominique Destine." She looked less that happy, probably at the idea that she had to reveal anything, or maybe it was because she'd been vulnerable.
"Guess that works." Spike paused, looking at her thoughtfully. "I have no idea how you react to major expenditures of magic. Would you like something to eat, or is that the last thing you want to see right now?"
Demona considered for a moment. "Something light. Toast, possibly a little fruit. Coffee if you have any."
"Willow's my roommate, of course there's coffee. It will take a bit for it to brew. The girl's far too nice for her own good." Spike made his way into the kitchen, pulling out some grapes and those fuzzy brown fruits that Willow got, called Kiwi's. He'd always thought that was just New Zealanders, but no, apparently that was a fruit as well. He wondered if they tasted as good. He buttered two bits of toast, bringing the whole plate back out for Demona.
Handing it over, he offered a smile. "Hope this helps. Coffee's started, and I can fix you something more substantial when your stomach's settled."
Accepting the plate, she gave him a small smile. "Thanks."
For a while, everything was calm, quiet. She had a cup of coffee, with cream, and Spike had another blood. He kept watching her, thinking an entire array of things, most of which wouldn't be something to bring up. About how little that leather outfit actually covered, and how nicely she filled it out. Or the way he'd always been attracted to dangerous women. She kept glancing at him as well, although Spike couldn't tell if the reasons were the same or otherwise.
"I can't stay here forever. I have... responsibilities. Obligations." She looked half determined, half reluctant.
"You can feel free to drop by again. Although... maybe Willow has a few things you could borrow for the trip back to your place. Nice as the leather looks, it isn't quite the normal thing." Spike felt almost reluctant to let her go.
After a glance at her outfit, she smiled just a little. "A good point. Should I just... Should I just look, or should you?"
"You might as well go in. She's out again, and unless you're loud, she shouldn't even know you're in there. You can just bring them back some time when you're feeling better, maybe stay and visit some." Spike shrugged a bit, hoping that she would come back.
"That seems reasonable enough. Perhaps you could find a bag for my other outfit?" She looked pleased, and had a small smile.
"Right, I'll look while you just borrow a few things." With those words, Spike made his way to the kitchen.
* * * *
Demona shook her head as she walked through the door to the room of the young witch. All of this... it just seemed too nice to be real. Puck had explained the necessity of the spell, and she'd agreed with his judgment, for once. And it had been a surprise to see the quiet redhead again, the one who had somehow known what the slaughter had been intended to cause. It had been so long since she'd done anything that powerful though. She'd collapsed, loosing herself in the swirling unconsciousness that happened with magical over exertion. It had been dangerous, and foolish. She'd learned over the centuries that she couldn't count on anyone helping her.
But he had. Spike had brought her here, to his home. It would have been utterly baffling had he been human, but from a vampire? That level of kindness was as unexpected as a fish building a fire. There had to be something, some hidden motivation. Didn't there? Wasn't that how humans were? Wasn't there always some form of personal gain?
Carefully, she looked around the room. It was fairly neat, not to perfect precision, but enough that the girl, that Willow would be able to find things easily enough. Of course, Willow was a bit smaller than she was, more fragile looking. She didn't look like a warrior at all. She probably wasn't, especially not with that level of magical power. Would there even be anything that might fit?
Eventually, the closet yielded a few things that would fit and were tolerable enough. There was a blouse, the style reminding her of what mortals had worn for centuries, in a light brown color, a pattern in amber accenting the collar. She ended up pairing it with a wrap around skirt, a green color with brown and amber and white forming a little design printed over it. There was also a pair of brown sandals that surprisingly enough fit perfectly. While she was there, she also made use of a brush, attempting to tame her hair a bit.
She felt almost ridiculous. Entirely unformidable. She looked like some sort of student, someone pretty and harmless and unimportant. But she felt a bit better, a bit less exposed.
On her way back out, she looked again at Spike. He was handsome, by human standards, and carried himself like a warrior, or a hunter. He seemed to find her fascinating, and she wasn't certain quite how to feel about that. It made her stomach flutter, and her nerves hummed, and her face felt warm. Was he flirting with her? Would it be a bad thing if he was? But of course he wouldn't be flirting, he was human, well, a vampire, and she was a gargoyle. Except... she didn't look like a gargoyle. Maybe he did find her human form attractive. But surely that would fade if he saw her as she really was, blue, with her tail and wings, as a gargoyle should look.
"I... thank you. Both of you." The words felt awkward, almost painful, but she knew they were merited. For the ritual, for keeping her safe.
His blue eyes seemed very intense as the vampire looked at her, his smile almost too warm. "You're welcome anytime, Demona."
Why did she suddenly feel so warm? "You're welcome, Spike."
It felt rather like a retreat as she left the building. As if she was running away from some sort of challenge, something that she didn't even understand the rules of. She managed to make her way back to the Destine Manor, still utterly baffled by the whole encounter. She would have to go back, even if only to return Willow's clothing to her. To prove to herself that Spike hadn't been flirting, that they weren't really so welcoming.
But not yet.
Not until she'd sorted out how to react to the young looking woman who would volunteer for such a demanding ritual. Willow couldn't be entirely ignorant of the dark side of life if she was living with a vampire. Not if she recognized the feeling of a Hellmouth. But... but why would she have taken the risk?
Not until she'd figured out what it was about the vampire that made her feel off balance. Or why the memory of his smile made her feel like she'd swallowed a flock of butterflies. Because she didn't like humans, or vampires that had once been humans. She'd been betrayed too many times to trust again.
Of course, by then someone would have undoubtedly told them all about her. Told them that she was vicious, evil, seeking the destruction of humanity. And then, they would hate and fear her. Just like everyone else.
Somehow, the thought of that made her stomach feel as if the butterflies had turned to stone. And she didn't understand that either.