Avocation

Author: enigmaticblue <enigmaticblue@yahoo.com>

Rating: PG-13

Disclaimer: The characters aren't mine, but Joss said I could play. Really.

Archive: Anywhere that already has my stuff. Anywhere else, just ask.

Summary: The gypsies curse the wrong vampire, and by the time they rectify their mistake, Spike has been fundamentally altered. Nearly a century later, the Slayer needs help, and there's only one person qualified for the job. Of course, he's not real interested in taking it.

A/N: I have a secret (or not-so-secret) weakness for early canon Spuffy fics. The only problem is that Spike is evil. No, really, he is. Which means that actually writing Spuffy pre-chip requires more suspension of disbelief than I can manage. Reading it is a different matter altogether. So, this is how I write early canon Spuffy. By altering events entirely. By the way, the title comes from a Robert Frost poem, "Two Tramps in Mud Time." Pay special attention to the last stanza.

Chapter 1

"...But yield who will to their separation,/My object in living is to unite/My avocation and my vocation/As my two eyes make one in sight./Only where love and need are one,/And the work is play for mortal stakes,/Is the deed ever really done/For Heaven and the future's sakes." ~Robert Frost, "Two Tramps in Mud Time"

Whistler wasn't very happy with this assignment. Dragging Angel out of the gutter and getting him cleaned up had been bad enough. The last thing he wanted was to deal with the other souled vampire. The reports suggested that Spike was the more difficult of the two.

He had no desire to wind up dead.

The bar was loud and raucous, its denizens an odd mixture of humans and demons. This was a place where blood was frequently spilled, and where patrons often didn't leave of their own accord.

The vampire in question was seated in a corner booth, watching the goings-on with an expression of sardonic amusement on his face. There was a pocket of calm around him, as though no one wanted to invade the space he'd designated as his own. Dangerous was one word for him, Whistler thought, remembering the warnings. He was certainly nothing like Angel.

Rumor had it, you didn't mention Angel's name around him if you wanted to live.

Whistler didn't bother stopping by the bar, instead heading straight for the corner booth. "You're Spike."

"What of it?" The words came out in a low growl, with a barely concealed threat.

Whistler dropped into the seat across from him. "I've got a job for you."

"Not interested," Spike replied.

"I heard you'd work for a price."

"Price is too high for you," Spike replied. "Sod off."

Whistler lowered his voice, knowing he was taking a gamble. "This is about revenge—on Angel."

The change happened so quickly Whistler didn't have time to brace himself. Spike's hand shot across the table, grabbing the demon by his shirtfront and pulling him halfway out of his seat. Yellow eyes glowed in the dim light. "You don't know me, so I'm going to let that pass," Spike snarled. "Don't say that name in my presence again."

"You don't want a chance to get even?" Whistler asked, careful not to repeat the forbidden name.

Spike sneered. "I am even. The bastard got cursed, didn't he? Has to live with unending pain and torment? That's enough. Don't want to see his ugly face again."

"He lost the soul."

Spike blinked, releasing the demon abruptly. "What are you going on about then?"

Whistler smoothed down the front of his bright Hawaiian shirt, knowing that the worst was over if Spike started asking questions. He might manage to pull off this little assignment after all. "You know about the loophole."

"Sure," Spike replied. "One moment of happiness and the soul's gone. What of it?"

"What do you think?"

"What?" Spike snorted. "That prat? Get a moment of happiness? What did he do? Find some brainless chit to fall in love with him?" At the expression on Whistler's face, Spike started laughing. "Oh, you've got to be kidding me."

"I'm not. He's planning on ending the world."

That cut the laughter off quickly enough. Spike's eyes narrowed. "Right, then. I'm interested. Who are you, and what do you want from me?"

"The name's Whistler," the demon replied, leaning back in his seat. "I work for the Powers."

Spike chuckled, shaking his head. "Oh, that's rich. The Powers That Screw With You want my help to save the world? Forget it. Thanks for the laugh, mate." He stood, tossing a few bills on the table and striding out of the bar.

Whistler hurried along in his wake, determined to get Spike to listen. "You're needed, Spike."

The vampire whirled to face him. "You're pushing your luck. You don't want to end up dead, leave me alone."

"Angelus is going to end the world," Whistler called after him. "And Drusilla is with him."

Spike froze. He hadn't heard that name in years. He'd have preferred to go through the rest of his unlife without being reminded of her. "What do you want from me?"

"The Slayer is trying to prevent him from opening Acathla and sucking the world into hell," Whistler explained, catching up. "She can't fight both of them on her own."

"What's in it for me?"

Whistler stared at him. "I would have thought that was obvious. You get to keep the world. I've heard you like it here."

Spike shook his head. "I've been around a long time, and I've seen a lot of Slayers. They usually come out on top."

"Not this time."

"I'll need something," Spike said. "I'm not doing this for free. You just end up getting screwed over in the end."

Whistler had been given instructions that should the vampire make demands, certain things could be done. "What do you want?"

Spike smirked. "You got a pen?"

~~~~~

He roared into town, feeling the vibration of the motor through the steering wheel. The old Mustang was exactly what he'd requested—classic, powerful, and speedy. Spike had the feeling that he probably could have asked for more. Either that or the Powers That Screw With You had known exactly what he wanted from them.

Spike rather hoped it was the former. He didn't like the idea of anyone knowing what went on in his head.

In the end, he'd agreed to a lot more than just helping to save the world. They had wanted him to take Angel's place and play the hero. Spike snorted, whipping the car around a corner with ease. He had refused, of course. Spike had no desire to emulate Angelus in any way.

Then Whistler had named a price, and Spike had agreed. Getting paid to save the world wasn't a bad gig. Besides, as the demon had so astutely pointed out, he liked the world—spicy wings, dog races, Manchester United, and everything else.

What he had now was a picture of the Slayer, a few scant scraps of information about this Acathla, and a fat bank account.

Oh, and the promise of a battle ahead. That always put him in a good mood.

Whistler had told him where to find the Slayer and her friends. It seemed odd that their choice of headquarters would be a school library, but Spike didn't much care. As long as he could locate the chit in time to keep his end of the deal, that was all that mattered.

Spike always kept his word—and he'd given his word that he'd make certain this Slayer survived. She had a destiny. It almost made Spike feel sorry for her.

Silent as a shadow, Spike stalked the school hallways. The scent that caught his attention was a familiar one, though not something he'd come across in almost a century. It had been a long time, but not long enough as far as he was concerned.

Grim-faced, Spike came in through the stacks, making sure to keep his footsteps silent. Drusilla was there, along with half a dozen minions. She was working her magic on a dark-skinned girl. Spike knew the chit didn't have a prayer of surviving, but that didn't much matter to him. She wasn't the one he'd been paid to protect.

Of course, if he interrupted Drusilla's thrall, she'd be pissed as hell, and it would probably throw her off for hours. So maybe he'd save this girl for free.

Spike swung himself over the railing, landing lightly and putting a stake through the nearest vampire. His sudden appearance had Drusilla looking towards him, breaking her concentration and freeing the girl from the vampiress' hypnotic stare.

His actions indicated to the others in the room that he was on the humans' side, and Drusilla's minions instantly mobbed him. A manic grin grew on Spike's face as a ducked one punch, whirling to put his stake through another vampire who had tried to sneak up behind him.

An older man picked up a crossbow and started firing, causing Spike to hope that he was a decent shot. The last thing he wanted was to be dusted by some middle aged librarian. The other humans, children really, were doing what they could against the few minions left.

Drusilla was screeching about her plans being ruined, and when the two minions left standing fled, Spike turned to her. "Been a while, Dru."

"Bad Spike," she hissed at him. "You've ruined all Daddy's plans."

Spike's eyes widened in mock horror. "Oh, have I? I feel terrible about that." He strode towards her. "Time to go, Dru."

The crazy vampire turned just as Kendra was about to put a stake through her heart. "Don't think so. You've still got to learn your lesson."

Spike realized what she was going to do too late. In a flash, Drusilla had slashed Kendra's throat with her fingernails, shoving her dying form into Spike's arms and slowing him down. "Bloody hell," he muttered, staring into the girl's eyes, already glazing over in death.

Spike forced down his hunger at the scent of her blood. This wasn't the Slayer he had been hired to help, but she was a Slayer, and the temptation was nearly too much for him to resist. There was no point in chasing Dru down at this point—she was quick and canny and he didn't know the area as well as she did.

He felt the sharp point of something prick his back, right over his heart. "Put her down."

Spike laid the girl's body down carefully, not wanting to appear disrespectful, especially when he was in danger of being staked. He raised his hands, showing himself to be unarmed. "Not interested in fighting you."

After a moment, the weapon was removed, and Spike slowly turned around to face the older man who had been wielding the crossbow. "Who are you?"

The voice was cold, and Spike was impressed in spite of himself. Unless he was greatly mistaken, this man was not just a librarian. "The name's Spike. William the Bloody if you want to get real formal."

He had the satisfaction of watching the man's eyes widen. The crossbow dipped down. "I've heard of you," he replied, a thin thread of respect running through his tone. "You were supposed to be a legend."

Spike shrugged. "I'm real enough."

"Giles?"

The redheaded girl spoke, anxiety writ large over her pale face. Her eyes kept darting from Giles to the vampire to the body of the Slayer. Giles glanced back at the girl. "Gather your supplies, Willow. Xander, help her. I imagine the police will be here soon enough."

"Are we going to tell them the usual story?" the dark-haired boy asked, staring at Spike with ill-concealed suspicion.

Giles sighed. "What else would you suggest we tell them, Xander?" He turned his attention back to the vampire in front of him. Spike had brought his hands down and was busy lighting up a cigarette. "There's no smoking in here," Giles said sharply.

Spike raised an eyebrow. "And I care because? Look, Watcher, I'm here for your Slayer. Where is she?"

"Why should I tell you where Buffy is?"

"Because I'm being paid to make sure she stays in one piece," Spike replied easily. "Can't do that if the bint isn't around, can I?"

Their eyes met, and a brief battle of wills commenced. Giles had heard of this vampire, but he was supposed to be a myth, a legend. The stories painted him as a mercenary, although one who was careful about the assignments he accepted. He was the vampire who didn't kill humans. It was no wonder the Council had deemed the stories tall tales.

Giles' jaw tightened. "She went out to meet Angel, although my guess is that it was a mere distraction to keep her from being here when Drusilla attacked. I'm not sure what they wanted."

Spike shrugged. "Whatever it was, they didn't get it. Slayer'll be back soon enough, and then we can work on killing Angelus."

"'We?'" Xander demanded. "We don't need your help."

Spike smirked. "That right? It's not what I heard."

"Xander, do be quiet," Giles ordered sharply. He turned to face Spike. "You shouldn't be here when the police arrive. You're the only person whose presence I cannot account for."

The vampire nodded. "Fair enough." He cocked his head to the side, listening. "Right on time," he murmured. "I'll be close." Spike jumped up and over the railing that separated the lower level from the stacks with ease, startling Willow and another girl just coming out of hiding. He gave both of them a cocky grin and then disappeared as the police came storming through the doors.

Principal Snyder was there as well, shouting orders and questions indiscriminately, which Giles did his best to shield his students from, all the while wondering where his Slayer was.

~~~~~

Buffy was heading towards the school at a dead run when she ran into a very solid someone. "There you are."

She tensed, tearing herself away from the hands that had come to rest on her upper arms. The Slayer felt the tingle that told her the man was a vampire, and she reached for her stake. Buffy didn't have time for this. Her friends—

"Your friends are fine," the vampire said, apparently reading her mind. "Just came from the school. You'll want to stay away until the cops are gone."

Buffy backed up a couple steps, her hand clutching her stake tightly. "Who are you?"

"Name's Spike." She watched as he smiled, amused, taking a deep drag from his cigarette. "I came to help you fight Angelus."

Buffy shook her head in disbelief. "I'm supposed to believe you?" she demanded. "Sorry, but I don't make it a habit of working with vampires."

"Even souled ones?"

"Especially souled ones," Buffy snarled in reply. She really didn't have time for this. She had every intention of dodging him, checking on Giles and the others, and then figuring out how she was going to keep Angel from killing her and her friends.

"You won't be able to stop him," the vampire called after her. "Not when he's got Dru with him. I should know. I've tried."

She stopped. "Where are they? If you can take me to them—"

"Told you. Cops. Your Watcher told me to get out so he didn't have to explain me being there."

There was no way she could trust him. He was a vampire, and Buffy had learned the hard way what happened when you trusted a vampire.

No, that wasn't right. She'd learned what sleeping with a vampire brought. "What do you want?"

"How many times do I have to repeat myself?" Spike asked with a raised eyebrow. "I want to help you stop Angelus from sucking the world into hell. You want me to draw a diagram?"

Buffy glared at him, contemplating staking him just because he was annoying. "How do I know you're not leading me into a trap?" she demanded.

He shrugged. "You don't. If we can find your Watcher, he'll vouch for me, though. After all, I was the one who made sure Dru and her minions didn't kill your friends."

"Fine." Buffy shrugged her shoulders, trying to release some of the tension that seemed to have taken up permanent residence there. "Let's go."

The school was still swarming with cops when they arrived, and Spike quickly took her arm, leading her past. "You want to try and look helpless?" he suggested in a low voice.

"What?"

"Try to look less like we're casing the joint and more like we're out for a stroll," Spike suggested, his tone dry. "Bloody hell, Slayer. I'd almost think you were new on the job."

"Shut up." Buffy shrugged off his hand, trying not to make it so obvious. Spike adjusted his grip but didn't let go. "Get your hands off me," she hissed.

Spike stopped dead in his tracks. "You know what? Nothing is worth this hassle. You want to act like such a bitch, you can deal with Angelus on your own."

Buffy watched as he stalked away, and she felt a sinking sensation. He was right, even though she would never admit it out loud. She knew that there was no way she could take both Angelus and Drusilla on her own. "Wait! Spike!"

He stopped, and then turned, meeting her eyes with a hard expression. Raising an eyebrow, he waited for her to catch up. "Ready to play nice?"

"Answer my question first," she challenged.

Spike shrugged. "Ask away."

"Why help me?"

"Revenge." He gave her a crooked smile. "That and I'm getting paid."

"By who?"

"The Powers That Screw With You." Spike sighed. "Look, pet, we don't have time for this. I promise, if we make it through this, I'll let you buy me a drink and then I'll explain."

Buffy wasn't satisfied, but she knew that was all she was going to get out of him. "Fine. Where are Giles and the others?"

He shrugged. "Dunno. Depends on if the cops have let them go or not. You got a meeting place other than the library?"

"How did you know about the library?" Buffy demanded.

Spike rolled his eyes. "The sodding Powers. Have you not been listening?" Buffy scowled. She knew she was being obtuse, but she was exhausted, and Angel had really pissed her off. "Slayer, I know this isn't easy, but let's at least try to work together, shall we?"

His tone was almost gentle, and she sighed. Whoever this vampire was, whatever he really wanted, Buffy knew she didn't have much choice.

Spike was all she had at the moment.