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Name: Runewolf
E-mail: Runewolf@bigfoot.com
Title: Price of Secrecy 1/?
Disclaimer: I own nothing, Joss owns all.
Summary: Willow meets Spike.
Spoilers: none
Rating: PG so far
Distribution: ask.
Feedback: Any is great. This is my first fanfic, so I don't know
whether its really worth continuing or not...
Authors note: In order to get this to fit within the Buffyverse and
work with Willow and Spike, I had to tweak a few things. This starts
DURING the first episode of season one- 'Welcome to the Hellmouth'.
Consider it an alternative history. :-) I tried to incorporate
dialogue used in the episode to add to the idea that this is
something that MIGHT have happened...
*The band is pretty good tonight.* Willow contemplated the band,
over doing band things. She contemplated the dance floor where
Xander was NOT doing Xander things. *I was SO sure he'd come...*
She couldn't restrain a mournful sigh.
Spike also contemplated the band. He was considering strangling the
guitarist with his guitar strings as an artistic statement between
sets when he heard a soft sigh. Further down the bar a girl was
sitting trying not to look lost. Trying to be part of something she
obviously didn't mesh with. She wasn't doing a very good job, poor
chit. She looked like she was looking at something that wasn't
quite there. Just like his Princess used to. Before Prague. Before
she crumbled into dust.
A perky blonde wandered up to the forlorn redhead. "Hey!"
"Oh, hi!" Obviously they know each other. Good. *Last thing I need
tonight is to watch some girl look lonely. I can do that myself.
"Oh, you're here with someone?" Now that's a question.
"No, I'm just here. I thought Xander was gonna show up." Ah. So
thats the way it is... Spike turned away from the girls and ordered
another tequila. Out of the corner of his perception he could hear
snippets of conversation between the two girls. The redhead was
mooning over some young drip who obviously didn't know what was what.
The blonde was giving the teenage dating pep-talk. Seize the day
crap. Very Darla-esque. Dear old granny. The reason he had come to
this little town. She had heard what the mob had done to Dru. Spike
roused himself and watched the perky one bounce off. Likely off to
find a nice shag. American tart. Some people had taste. Some
people waited for true love. Out of tequila. "Mate." Motion to
glass. Now, yes, Some people waited for true love. Vampire.
Spike looked to his left and saw a vampire move in on some mortal.
That girl. The one who obviously understood the pain of love.
Didn't the little brat know that people who were moping over lost
love should be left alone? The redhead was obviously trying to
overcome her pain. He could respect that. The vampire screamed
"fledgling" to him. ah. More than one way to find dear old gran.
As the vamp led the redhead out of the Bronze, Spike followed. When
the barkeep made some comment about paying he let his true face show
for a second. *Works every time.* Then he grabbed the tequila
bottle as he left.
Spike strolled along the dark sidewalk, following Mr. Fledgling and
his Redhead. Evidently it was Thomas the Fledgling. Thomas the
un-master of conversation. If the girl wasn't obviously desolate
over her young man she never would have fallen for it. *Somebody has
to teach young vamps today how to talk...*
"Hey! Ever been in one of these?" Now thats dialogue Fledgling. Ask
a mortal if they've been in a mausoleum. Brilliant.
"No. Thank you." Good manners. Sweet little thing.
"Come on. What are you afraid of?" Oh, now thats a new line,
fledgling. Bloody idiot. Not even directions is worth watching him
fudge this. If you're going to kill a lady, do it right. No sense
of style.
The match striking startled both predator and prey, breaking the
tension. The light briefly illuminated a cigarette and a lean figure
in a black leather duster. Willow felt her heart stop briefly as
tall blond man materialized out of the shadows like a dark knight in
the nightmare of her latest dating fiasco.
Willow's eyes widened at the sight of the blonde stranger. She felt
her eyes gravitate to him like a moth to a flame. She couldn't focus
on him clearly in the moonlight, but he seemed sculpted of ivory and
night. Magnetic. Her awareness of Thomas fell out of her thoughts.
She didn't even see him move to push her.. or know he was doing it
until she felt his hands on her shoulders. They didn't seem to stay
there long...
As Spike lit his cigarette he smiled slowly. Now THAT was an
entrance. Then he saw Thomas start to push his Redhead into the
crypt. The cigarette dropped from his fingers and he moved before he
even realized he was doing it. MINE. His fingers closed over the
fledglings throat and shoved. Obligingly, Thomas jerked backward and
satisfyingly hit the ground. His face nicely looked terrified as
Spike growled at him.
Willow took a few steps back and gasped. The stranger had stepped in
so suddenly. "Hello." She didn't know exactly what was going on,
but her rescuer still looked rather tense. He was standing over
Thomas and the lines of his back looked ominous. Thomas looked
terrified. He must be scared of him. I don't want him to get in
trouble for me.... "He didn't hurt me. He might have wanted to...
hurt me, or something, I'm not really sure about that. But he
didn't. Hurt me, that is. I guess he did want to. Its almost
flattering really. That he wanted... Not the way he wanted, but
that he thought of me, that is..." Spike relaxed. She was fine. In
shock, dazed, but fine. She also had NO idea of what had almost
happened. He let his game face slip back into hiding and smiled at
Thomas slowly. Dangerously. Then he stepped away and regarded the
girl.
"Sorry Luv. I just have a low tolerance for blokes who don't respect
women. Almost lost me temper, I did." Spike did his best charming
Brit imitation. Well, he was a charming Brit. It was the charming,
LIVING, part that was the trick to pull off. "Thank you for bringing
me back to my senses. I don't know how I'd." Spike glanced at
Thomas, "LIVE with myself if I had lost control of myself to my dark
side." Spike straightened his duster and smiled warmly at Willow.
Easy, boy. Reassure the girl and GET OUT of the cemetery. "I
insist on walking you home. You really should be more careful, you'd
be surprised at how much trouble you can get into at night." He
paused and added, almost teasingly, "And not all of it fun either."
Well, it wasn't. Getting the stains out of silk and leather could be
bloody annoying.
Willow let out the breath she hadn't realized she was holding.
Harmless. Granted, in a dangerous, bad boy way, but nice. Not like
Thomas. "What about him? He could tell people at school... that
I... that we..." She looked away from her stranger. She didn't want
to look like an idiot, but what she had possibly escaped from was
beginning to sink in. Guys didn't lure girls way out to the middle
of nowhere to do nice things. Her voice sunk so low as to be almost
inaudible. For a human. "He scares me." Willow sunk down into a
crouch and buried her head in her hands. Stop the shaking. Just
stop the shaking. Everything is ok.
"Scary." Thomas' mumbled comment didn't reach Willow, but the tone
of triumph pissed Spike off. Bloody fledgling scared a girl. In his
day that wasn't cause for celebration. That was cause for grief if
you couldn't do it. Damn idiot. Waste of space. Wonder what genius
made YOU immortal. Hope we're not related. Spike reached down and
hauled Thomas to his feet and propelled him away from the mausoleum.
Keeping one eye on the girl he pushed the fledgling toward a nice,
skeletal looking tree. Gotta love landscaping. He wouldn't be able
to share woes with the girl if she found about the whole demon thing.
It was amazing how that changed attitudes. Remarkable really.
"You." Bloody twit. His voice was clear and carried over to where
Willow was still huddled. Shove. "Have no respect for women." Or
other people's plans. Shove. "You will say nothing to your friends
about her." That should make her feel better. Shove. "I don't want
you to even THINK about doing anything like this again." Not this
badly, anyway. Shove. Willow moaned softly. He could hear her
talking to herself. Telling herself that it was ok. That it would
be ok. Like Drusilla used to. His voice dropped so low Thomas could
barely hear it. "Now you've pissed me off, mate. How very ...
unfortunate for you." He impaled the fledgling on the branch. The
soft poof of his disintegration was almost inaudible. Especially
over Spike's voice. "And I don't want to see you around here again!"
Not that I will. Spike's smug feeling of victory faded when he
glanced over to make sure that the Redhead had seen nothing. She
hadn't, her head was still buried in her hands. She was shaking.
Taken alone, that was not a good thing. Combined with the tingling
feeling at the back of his neck that meant another vampire's
presence, a bad thing.
Spike strode over to the girl and knelt. Willow looked up at him and
her teary eyes blinked shakily. "Is he gone?" Willow felt his hand
gently run down her face. It seemed cold to her. Everything was
cold. I'm in shock...
"He won't bother you again pet. We should get out of here. Can you
walk?" His voice was so soft. So gentle. Like he understood.
Walk. Walking is good. Not graves is good. Willow staggered to her
feet and tried to regain her composure. Then something moved in the
mausoleum and the world went black.
Spike swept the girl into his arms and moved. He didn't know what
prompted the faint, but his senses told him that there were other
vampires around. Close. Powerful. Not tonight, mates. Tonight I
am in no mood to share.
Spike had a bad feeling about his situation. He had just dusted one
of his own. Generally vampires didn't react well to that. He was
surrounded by vampires. He could feel them. If he had the chance to
explain, he could probably get off the hook, but vampires weren't
known for long peaceful debates. It was part of what made them so
much fun to hang with. Spike vaulted over a grave marker and
trampled some rather morbid lilies. He heard something move to his
left. Instantly he crouched, cradling the unconscious redhead in his
arms. If he got out of this graveyard alive, or able to pass for it,
he'd be lucky. A slow, dangerous smile crept over his face. Unlife
was good.
***********************************
Rupert Giles strode into the emergency room of Sunnydale General.
His slayer, Buffy Summers, turned away from the doctor she was
speaking to and walked over. "Hello again."
"The vampire? Did you find the girl?" His urgent tone brought a
look of sadness to the slayer's face. A sadness he did not want to
know the reason for. Yet, he HAD to know. "Did she.."
"Lets walk." Buffy walked out of the hospital with a determined
stride. Her face was resolute. The glib tone that had seemed so
characteristic was gone. The two walked out into the small garden to
the left of the main entrance of the hospital. Buffy sat down on a
park bench. "Xander was injured in the cemetery. We saw Jesse with
a female vamp and went after them." She exhaled and slammed her fist
into the park bench. Giles noted with fascination that it appeared
to be damaged. He would have to check in the morning when the light
was better. "She had him completely enthralled. Under her spell.
He was bleeding and didn't even seem to care." Buffy stood and paced
back and forth under the park bench. "There were too many of them
Giles. Jesse could barely move and Xander couldn't move him by
himself. Next thing I knew, they were attacking Xander and while I
helped him they got to Jesse. Next thing I knew the blonde had him
gone."
"Will Xander recover, Buffy?"
"He'll be fine. He hit is head on a grave marker trying to run away
from the vamps. They're keeping him overnight under observation to
make sure that he doesn't have a concussion."
"A head injury..." Giles mused, "We may be able to use that to our
advantage..."
"USE THAT? Are you out of your mind?" The force of Buffy's earned
the two a few odd glances.
"Very sorry. She's just a little stressed, I'm afraid." Giles
called over to the attendant. "Accident, very stressful..." The
attendant nodded and walked back into the hospital, relieved. He
didn't like standing outside in Sunnydale. Gave him the creeps.
Giles turned to Buffy. "You know you can't just turn your back on
your destiny Buffy. These events MUST have taught you that." Buffy
nodded reluctantly. She didn't like to admit it, but the stuffy Brit
was right.
"The vampires seemed to think something big was coming... and there
was this other creepy guy. Gave me the wiggins. Don't like him at
all." Buffy brought her hand up and rubbed her eyes.
"We can discuss this in the morning. Perhaps before school?" Buffy
gave Giles a disgusted look, then nodded. "As for what I was saying
about Xander," Buffy opened her mouth to speak and Giles shot her
his best British librarian shush look, "let me finish please, Buffy.
Xander should NOT have been there. IF he had NOT been there, you
would not have had to divide your attention between him and Jesse.
At the least, you might have saved Jesse. At best, you might have
seen Willow, as you would not have had the added distraction. Am I
right?"
Buffy said nothing, but she didn't need to. Giles almost relented at
the look in her eyes, but reminded himself that this was not a sad
little girl. This was the Chosen one. She who would stand ALONE
against the darkness. ALONE.
"If Xander is allowed to believe in vampires, it could be detrimental
to his health. He may be moved to seek vengeance on his own,"
Buffy's face implied she could NOT picture that, "or he may be
motivated to try to help you. It will be far safer for him if he
comes to believe that what he saw was merely a result of a head
injury and shadows in the graveyard at night."
"But Giles, he SAW!"
"Buffy, you would not believe what the inhabitants of Sunnydale seem
to be able to overlook. With the added bonus of a head injury, we
should be able to convince Xander nothing THAT unusual occurred."
*********************************************
Spike sat on a park bench in the middle of one of Sunnydale's
innumerable parks, looking down at the unconscious form of the girl
in his arms. The girl who had not woken up. He checked again.
Nope, not up. He double checked. No. Not awake. He placed her on
the bench and paced around it. Getting out of the cemetery had been
fun and all, but this was now a waiting game. If he wanted to talk
to her, that is. He gently searched her pockets, taking care not
to be rough enough to rouse her and considered her id.
Willow Rosenberg. An unconscious redhead with a far better body than
was readily apparent. Not that he cared about that. Spike snorted
at himself. Oh well, if I'm going to recruit a conversational
buddy, they may as well be curvy. He considered the other pieces of
identification with amusement. "Psi Corps?" "League of Red Headed
Men?" Address. Address. Now thats a thought. He scooped up the
girl and wisked her to her humble abode. (After he checked the
Perly's in his car) and deposited her gently on her porch. Ok.
She's home.
Spike turned to walk off and realized that in this town, he couldn't
just leave her on her doorstep. He considered ringing the bell, but
nobody seemed to be home. The situation had him briefly puzzled then
he remembered something that had happened once with Drusilla. Sweet,
mad Dru....
Willow woke up suddenly on her front porch and coughed slightly.
That smell... it was enough to wake the dead. My front porch? As
she stood, she heard a car drive off and caught a glimpse of a black
car easing the road. Then she looked at her door and gasped. Tacked
to the door was a note.
"You passed out at the cemetery. I brought you home cause it seemed
the right thing to do. Go inside, and stay away from creeps like
that in the future. Never settle.
P.S.- Watch out for the thorns. --S"
Above the note, stuck through the loop on the knocker, was one of Ms.
McGraw's prize red roses, complete with about a foot and a half of
stem. Willow grabbed the note, shot an anxious look at Ms. McGraw's
house, and went inside.
After dropping his future confidant off, Spike cruised his DeSoto
down the streets of Sunnydale. Food. Then a place to stay.
Spotting a pizza delivery car, he decided to fall back on one of his
favorite schemes.
****************************************************
Xander stared at the ceiling of his hospital room. In some ways, he
felt very, very mellow. But that was just the drugs. The rest of
his mind was screaming. He would never see Willow again. He would
never see Jesse again. Both were bad thoughts. He could see them
both so clearly. Jesse's wit. Willow's smile. Willow's red hair in
the light. I never gave her back her Barbie doll was his last
thought before the sedatives took effect.
**************************************************
Spike followed the pizza car until it moved into a nice respectable,
neighborhood and pulled into a driveway. He gave the house a quick
one over. Nice. Tasteful. Red would probably like it. He quickly
pulled in behind the car and hopped out. "Hello, old boy. Just made
it home in time, I see." Spike did his best nice Brit imitation.
"How much do I owe you for the pizza?" In his opinion, he was
getting quite good at it, too.
The pizza boy gaped. "You're Olga?"
Spike eyed the boy. He didn't want to leave a trail, but he could
always change his plans. "I'm visiting." His voice was low,
menacing and commanding. He still had it. The boy, identified at
"Denny" by his name tag, gave him a skeptical look. Spike vamped out
for an instant. Denny offered the pizza.
"Its yours." Denny quivered in place. "Do you want my car? Can I
go now?"
"Do I look like I need your car?" Spike looked at his lovely DeSoto,
and at the pathetic excuse for a delivery vehicle.
"NO SIR. I'll be going now sir. If you need a pizza, ask for me to
deliver it and its on the house, sir." Denny groveled backwards,
like a supplicant moving away from an angry god. Spike let him go.
After all, Red might like pizza.
******************************************************
Willow huddled in the middle of her bed, shaking. The memory of her
near escape haunted her. She felt so alone. Once again, her parents
were gone. Jesse and Xander didn't answer their phones. She didn't
think she wanted to talk to them now. She had. She had wanted
someone to tell her everything was ok. Someone had. She looked at
the rose on her dresser. Tall. Defiant. When Willow was five, she
had run her bicycle into Mrs. McGraw's rosebush. Mrs. McGraw made
her parents pay for the "damages" and made her pay for it with her
birthday money. I'm ok. And I don't want to talk about it. Willow
reached over and turned her phone buzzer to off. I'm sleeping in
tomorrow and thats it. There were advantages to being able to write
your own notes.
********************************************************
Spike checked out the pizza. Anchovies and pineapple. Appalling.
He strode to the door and pushed the buzzer. A middle aged woman
with two pink poodles answered the door. "Helllooo there." She
cooed. The poodles yapped at Spike. "Stop that darlings. Don't
bother the nice pizza man."
"No prob, Ducks." Spike let a little of his patented Spike charm
radiate out. "They look good enough to eat."
"Would you like to come in while I get my wallet?"
"Love too, Ducks."
Shortly thereafter, Spike looked around his new house. He did have
quite a large amount of things to move out but it would suit his
purposes nicely. After all, you had to be understanding when you
took immediate occupancy.
Darla lay on the cool stone floor of the Master's prison. She could
still hear his soft words in her mind. "You have failed me once, my
precious. As you are my favorite, I am giving you the most rare of
things. I am giving you a second chance. Find out what went wrong.
Nothing must stop the Harvest. Nothing. DO YOU understand? CAN YOU
understand? She could still feel the force in his fingers as they
had held her a foot above the ground. The power in his hand as it
curled around her throat. She swallowed, painfully. Her eyes showed
her a small shadow through the fall of her hair. Movement. "Who?"
Her voice cracked painfully.
One of the nameless minions hovered on the outskirts of the room.
"Mistress?"
"Yes?" Every word was an agony. A symphony of pain as her body
began to heal. Each word felt different. Why wouldn't the minion go
away and let her be?
"I saw a man, Mistress. He took the offering. He was one of us, but
I'd never seen him before."
Darla's eyes narrowed. Angelus? Could it be her errant child,
weakened by the curse, plaguing her? "Tall and dark?" Her voice
sounded harsh to her ears.
"No." Not Angel then. Who? "He was wearing a leather duster. I
think he was blond. He followed Thomas and his prey there. I
thought he was just guarding Thomas' back. I didn't know, Mistress.
I would have done something. Truly I would have." Darla listened to
the minion grovel as she gathered her strength to pull herself to her
feet. She could picture an arrogant grin the gleam of golden eyes
in her mind. Obviously, he hadn't know what he had been doing. Or
perhaps Thomas had moved in on someone he had targeted. He had
always been obsessive. He was here. He was obviously recovering
from the loss of Drusilla. Recovering enough to kill.
"I can tell the Master. I can let him know that it was the blond's
fault, not you." Darla's eyes narrowed. Spike would have no
insurance against the Master's wrath. In one swift instant, she was
in motion. "I don't think so." Her jaw clenched against the agony
of speaking. The dust that had been the minion settled drifted down
in the air, painting the world grey. The grit aggravated her eyes.
The pain was exquisite. The Master was not kind. Neither was she.
Darla smiled softly. Through the haze of her pain, she looked
forward to seeing her favorite grandson. William the Bloody. Her
Spike.
Spike found himself losing his concentration. He could hear the
shrill screams of the sirens as the police vehicles fled the scene.
He was TOO much for them. They were meaningless. He caught a whiff
of perfume, and turned, to see Drusilla. Soft music eclipsed the
sweet screaming of his victims. A cool breeze wafted through the
air, causing Drusilla's hair and dress to flutter becomingly. "Are
you still my Spike?" Spike couldn't speak. "Granny doesn't like
you, Spike." Her eyes shifted to gold and she lunged at him. Then
Spike sat up. He was in a bed in a pastel pink room filled with
unicorn statues. An insistent chiming pealed through the house. The
doorbell.
Spike pulled to his feet and shook his head slightly. The air was
cloudy in here. The floor wasn't too steady either. It was
shifting under his feet. He made his way gingerly out to the main
entrance and peered through the key hole. There was someone on the
porch. He appeared to be consulting a day timer. Spike's vampiric
senses could make out "we SHOULD have an appointment. She never
misses them." Shit. Spike considered the front porch. It was
shaded by an elm. Ok.....
The door swung open suddenly. Henri heard the door swing open behind
him and turned. Standing in the door was a man. A tall (compared to
Henri), blond god who wasn't wearing a shirt. This was NOT his 2:00
appointment. Not that he minded.
"'ello." said the god.
"Bonjour, Monsieur." said Henri. "I have an appointment with Olga."
"ah." said the god.
"It was for two."
"Sure."
"Is she here?" As he contemplated the god before him, Henri cursed
the heavens. He was either the spawn of Olga, or her... her... He
couldn't even think it. The world could not be that cruel. "We were
going to discuss redecorating." I brought the ... sample... she
wanted to see." Henri displayed a hideous euchre and turquoise
swatch of fabric. He couldn't keep a tone of disgust out of his
voice. "Distinctive..."
"Prefer red and black myself."
Henri perked up. "Classic colors. They look wonderful with leather
and wood."
"Come in then." Spike turned away from the door and moved into the
house. "Shut the door behind you." He had intended to kill whoever
disturbed him. He still did. His eye rested on the mural of Olga
painted down the hall. But he really needed a decorator.
He whirled, his hand closing around Henri's neck as his eyes gleamed
gold. Henri swallowed nervously. "I don't like wood. Can you work
with metal?" Spike's voice was flat.
"Metal is good." Henri's voice was quiet, but firm. "I draw the
line at plastic." Spike smiled. "You've got spine. I think we'll
get alone fine." Henri relaxed for a moment, until he saw the fangs
move towards his throat. He did struggle. Alas for Henri, it didn't
do him any good. As Spike drank, he mused. He would need minions.
Right now, one that could paint would be useful. As Henri died,
Spike gazed down at him at smiled. He sliced his wrist and offered
it. "Care for a drink, mate?"
HARVEST TIME
In every generation there is a Chosen One. She alone will stand
against
the vampires, the demons and the forces of darkness. She is the
Slayer.
--Sunnydale Hospital--
--7 AM--
The funny thing about observation periods is that they watch you. To make
sure that your brain isn't scrambled. So they wake you up to ensure you're
not in a coma. And every time they wake you, they leave you alone in the
dark with only your roomies' snores to keep you company. Every time they
leave you a million images flit past your eyes. Jesse. WILLOW. They were
the Three Musketeers, dammit. This wasn't supposed to happen. Vampires
weren't even supposed to exist. They were both gone. Both of them. So why
can't I get past the fact that I'll never see Willow again? Why does that
change everything?
Xander regarded the intern steadily. "I'll be leaving now. I'm fine."
"We really can't keep you. But take it easy, huh?"
"I'll do that later." Xander strode past the intern and into the sunlight.
"I have a librarian to see."
*************************************************************************
--Sunnydale High Library--
"I phoned the hospital. Young Mr. Harris has been released. I recommend
that you keep your distance. We can blame the head wound for anything he
saw. IF he chooses to remember." Giles fingers idely spun the globe
before he descends from the stacks.
"I don't know..." Buffy shifted from one foot to the other under Giles'
determined gaze.
"We've lost two innocents so far? Do you want to make it three?" Her eyes
fell to the ground. "You cannot continue to deny your calling. Lives are
lost while you persue your "normal life"." Giles covered the ground
between them and placed his hands on Buffy's shoulders. "Few know of the
age of the world. Or its legacy of daemons."
Deep in the stacks, Xander Harris listened. And learned. They might not
tell him willingly, but he needed to know what had torn his life apart.
Even if that life wasn't really in the world he thought it was.
****************************************************************************
**
--The Sunnydale Sewer system--
Darla slipped through the tunnels of the Master's lair. To where a
fledgling stirred. "Hello, Bait." She knelt in the dust beside the form of
the young vampire. Jesse's eyes openned and beheld her golden gaze. "My
name is Darla, and I'm going to be one of your new best friends."
His eyes widened. "I have best friends. Forever friends."
"And they would be?" Darla paused. "Would one of them be that blonde...
girl?"
"Just met her." Jesse sat and cocked his head to one side. "Somehow, I
don't like her anymore. But I miss Xander and Willow."
"Tell me all about them."
"Well, Willow has red hair..."
****************************************************************************
******
Meanwhile, Spike removed all traces of pink from his new home.
