I’ve never attempted fanfic before, so please excuse me if this is not very good. Thought I’d have a go and see if it was any fun. This tale is set in the aftermath of the final Angel episode and while it might reference a bit of what happened in the comics after, it will only be vaguely. Never read them myself. The story is centered around spike, but will likely venture into a Spike/Buffy thing down the road. Hope you enjoy :)
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Heaven And Hell
Chapter Three: Chance Encounters
Things just sort of fell into place after Tara arrived. There was nothing exactly unusual about it all, but small things began to fall their way. Spike happened to find a sewer access point in the basement of the apartment complex and was able to collect his malnourished charges without danger. While Tara wordlessly took charge of their care, he stepped outside to have a look around and almost immediately stumbled upon a couple of young women in terror running from a vicious but not terribly alert little demon. In short order, he found his protection detail had increased by two. Within four days, he had almost twenty people living in that apartment complex.
Matters grew simultaneously more difficult and easier after that. It quickly became abundantly clear that getting people out in a large group was an impossibility. The more aggressive demons, the strongest of the force besieging Los Angeles were already pushing out in a circle in every direction and while Spike was reasonably certain he could make it past them with a few humans in tow, leading a large group was doomed to failure. Nor could he leave the bulk of his charges unwatched while he led a few away at a time.
At the same time, the local population of vampires, demons and other nasties had come out to play, which added another layer of chaos to the streets. There was clearly no organization among the enemy beyond a tribal and gang level. After a few brutal encounters, Spike made it known that the city block that housed his apartment complex was no longer a welcome place. Faced with the prospect of a city full of hiding, terrified humans, the creatures hunting the night generally preferred to look elsewhere rather than face off with a century old, extremely irate vampire.
Tara moved into the apartment next to his and took complete command of settling and watching over the refugees around the building, for which he was grateful. He avoided them as best he could. By some unspoken agreement, they never mentioned Sunnydale or the people they’d left behind. In fact, they hardly spoke at all in the beginning. After their initial meeting, they managed to work on the problem without much discussion, each understanding and performing what was required on their end.
Spike managed to get to the apartment he’d been living at when he’d worked with Angel and his group, returning with a supply of blood and a few personal items. He took to wandering the streets each night. It wasn’t quite what you’d call patrolling except in the area directly surrounding his apartment complex, but being so visible and so willing to meet a confrontation somehow made the place unwelcome for those looking for easy sport.
And somehow, someway, he seemed to keep finding human refugees. The vampire never looked, but he kept finding people hiding or being attacked. And once he found them, it wasn’t like he could leave them to the tender mercies of a demon host, so he’d take them back to Tara and she would nod and settle them into the complex.
Not every demon was the type to attack anything on sight, even in the host. Through his occasional encounters with creatures he knew, or those that knew of him, he learned most of what was happening in the city. He discovered the fact that Angel had indeed survived the attacks and had resumed living in that hotel of his. By the sound of it, that bird Illyria had made it through the worst as well. For that, at least, Spike was glad. The thought of Fred’s body laying dead in a dark alley wasn’t one he welcomed. He didn’t go to them, though. He didn’t want to see them, didn’t want to be reminded of their mistake. Captain Brood’s-a-lot could manage just fine on his own.
Day’s stretched into weeks and eventually into months. The city continued to stand on the edge. There was fighting most nights. Either Spike would dissuade something from coming to close (He was honest enough with himself to acknowledge that he was looking for a fight) or he heard about fighting elsewhere. There wasn’t any way to determine how well the effort to reclaim the city were going though, so he could offer no comfort to the frightened humans, numbering almost fifty after four months.
Tara watched him, clearly worried even if she never broached the subject. The fact that something was bothering him was quite obvious. That was to be expected. The part that concerned her was the fact that he seemed unwilling to confront whatever it was that was gnawing at him. She had a good idea why he was upset, but she didn’t understand why he didn’t want to deal with it. Not that she’d ever known Spike as well as some of the others, but she knew it wasn’t in his nature to run from a problem. Quite the opposite, in fact.
When she approached him, somewhere in the fifth month of the siege and suggested that she go out with him on one of his walks, he was a bit surprised. She took her self appointed role as guardian of the little community of humans filling the apartment complex very seriously. But when he thought about it, it made sense that she was confident about leaving them alone for a few hours. There were enough of them now, and enough of them were armed, that it would take more than a couple of demons to take the complex. Not to mention the fact that she’d erected a number of protective wards around the structure. Where she’d found the supplies to do so he didn’t know and didn’t ask. Everyone deserved their secrets.
He shrugged when she asked “Suit yourself, Glinda. It’s not pretty out there, though.”
She responded with a shrug. They walked in silence at first, Tara taking in the ruined city and Spike lost in his own thoughts. She studied him as they wandered. He didn’t look very good, she realized sadly. Blood was scarce and he was clearly rationing himself. The effect gave him a gaunt, almost hollow look. His skin was even paler than she remembered it being since he’d first escaped from the Initiative. And that scar, a deep breaking of the skin of his cheek that somehow managed to give him an even harder angled look, almost predatory even when he wasn’t actively projecting menace. The scar didn’t exactly take away from his oddly angelic good looks, but it changed his appearance all the same. The addition of so obvious, so aggressive a flaw in his features made the perfection of the rest of his face all the more poignant.
“It’s not like you to keep things bottled up, Spike,” she ventured after they’d walked in silence for nearly an hour and it became abundantly clear that he had no intension of breaking the silence “You don’t run away from things.”
He frowned at her at that, one hand motioning from her to make a right turn into a warehouse filled section of the city “I don’t run, bit.” He didn’t even make a snaky comment.
“I just don’t understand why this is different, Spike.” she sighed, not feeling good about what she was about to do, but knowing it was necessary “You murdered your way through more than a century and even when you got your soul back you weren’t exactly wracked with guilt. Why is this different?”
“How would you know?” He scowled “Seem to recall you being right and dead when that happened.”
She just gave him a look at that and he snorted, “Bloody Powers. Can’t let a bloke have two seconds to himself, can they? Probably sitting up there right now watching us on some cosmic telly with surround sound.”
“Why?”
“Why what?” he scowled at her.
“Why is it different now? You think you made a mistake. Even if you did, that is going to happen to everyone. And don’t scowl at me like that, frowny guy. We both know you’d never hurt me.” She stepped away from him for a moment to avoid stepping in a puddle of still nearly fresh blood.
He was a little taken aback by her comment. She’d never been one to stand up to him, even a little. But then, they’d never really spent time together without others around. A tight grin appeared on his features, making his new scar shift angrily in the pale glow of the streetlight overhead. The blood pool received a glance and he altered their course to follow it’s trail.
“Not really the same thing, you know,” he told her, looking at the group of warehouses the trail seemed to be leading to “After I got my soul, I… I don’t know. The First was there. Sh… They needed me. I couldn’t let myself wallow. Not my style anyway. So I just pushed it to the side and tried not to think about it. Then I died, of course. Never really had the time to worry about it, so I didn’t.”
She nodded slowly, encouraging him to go on with her silence. He shrugged again.
“What, bit? You want to hear how this is the first time since I got my soul back that I’m responsible for an innocent’s pain? It is. I didn’t mean it, and I know in my head that you’re right about something like this happening whatever we did, but it doesn’t matter. Truth is, we were bloody careless and selfish. We wanted to hurt Wolfram & Hart like they’d hurt us. We all expected to die that night. Never did think about what would happen after we died. Never took a moment to wonder how many people would be destroyed because of what we did. Just having a hard time swallowing that, I guess,” he paused then, sniffing at the air. Then he was off in another direction.
“You didn’t kill those people,” she insisted, following him.
“So? Look, I’m--”
“No, Spike,” she interrupted him, actually frowning at him. It was almost cute, that frown. Clearly not an expression she wore very often “If you want to get all remorseful and repenty, that’s up to you. But it’s just silly to do it over things that aren’t your responsibility. Wolfram & Hart did this, not you. They’re the bad here. They killed these people, not you. If you are going to start acting like Angel with the broody, then at least do it over things that you actually did.”
He stopped dead in his tracks and whirled on her, looking outraged “Like Angel!?” he barked incredulously “Did you just bloody say that I’m acting like soddin’ Angel!?”
“Well, aren’t you?” her expression was entirely inoffensive.
He looked ill, his too pale face turning almost green for a moment. “Ah… bugger!”
If he was going to say anything else, it was interrupted by the very loud sound of glass breaking inside the nearest warehouse, the one that they were walking toward. He snapped off whatever his comment was and broke into a run, crashing through the nearest door and disappearing inside.
“Spike!” he heard Tara shout behind him, but he didn’t answer.
Angel!? She said I’m acting like that poncy son of..
There was a fight ahead. Among the high rows of loaded palettes, she saw a man fly through the air to crash into the wall close to spike. Vampire. Bloody Angel!? The man that was so self involved he made a supermodel look like a humanitarian.
“Oi, Mate,” he drew a stake from his battered, torn duster and slammed it into the dazed vampire’s chest. “Just what I was hoping to find.”
Bloody balls, I’m not acting like that pillock.
He turned to find the real fight. By the sound of it, there were at least a half dozen people involved. Just what he needed. A grin touched his lips as he ran, looking down the isles. A spot of violence would be more than welcome.
He drew to a stop when he found the fight, “Bugger, a Slayer.”
It was obvious what she was. A tiny girl, Hispanic by the look of her, she couldn’t have been more than sixteen. Slender to the point of being skinny and dressed in plain jeans and a dark shirt, she was fast, moving amidst a group of vampires like a dancer. Long hair extended all the way down to her rear in a single braid as she spun and whirled She was too busy cursing at the vampires to notice the new arrival, an almost endless stream of insults by her angry tone, though he had no idea what she was saying.
“Spike, wait! I… oh,” Tara came up behind him, finally catching up “Wow, she’s really good.”
“Not good enough,” he muttered, forcing away the memories of another slayer. Damn, it was hard. They sort of moved in similar ways, though Buffy was much better “Gonna get herself pinched in a minute. Not a good spot. They’ll corner her.”
Sure enough, they were doing just that. Fast as the girl was, she had five on her and it was clear that she was in over her head. Didn’t stop her from her constant litany of Spanish insults though. And she looked anything but afraid. Bird had stones, at least.
Spike darted forward and leap right into the fight, crashing into two of the vampires from behind and sending all three of them rolling to the hard floor. He rolled on to of one of them and slammed his stake down into it’s heart but felt a heavy blow land on him from behind that sent him toppling even as his victim burst into dust. He couldn’t help but laughing as he scrambled to his feet again.
Two of the remaining four vampires squared off with him. Behind them he could make out the other two still converging on the Slayer. He didn’t spare her another thought, though. Instead he charged again, slamming a shoulder into the nearest vampires midsection to knock him back. He caught another punch as he straightened, then launched one himself and connected, breaking the second vampire’s nose in the process. A grin flashed, “Hurt’s, don’t it?”
The fight didn’t take very long. Four vampires was an issue, but four vampires against Spike and a Slayer wasn’t. Just enough violence to get him into game face, really get the blood pumping. He slammed the last vampire against a wall of palettes and drove his stake home a final time. “Well, that was fun. Bout bloody time they sent one of you birds. The damn city’s been--”
“Spike!” Tara’s alarmed shout was all that saved him.
He whirled just in time to avoid the slayers stake piercing his heart. Instead, the wooden dagger slammed into the right side of his chest with bone crushing force. He crashed back into the palette wall that had been used to pin his final vampire and shouted in pain.
“What the fucking hell, Slayer!?” he shouted, kicking her in the stomach to get some distance. She was already pulling a second stake from her belt to replace the one that was causing white hot agony in his chest “Are you insane, you bloody bint? Saved your sorry ass, and you fucking…. Bitch!”
She shouted something back at him, dark eyes livid. Stake in hand, she launched herself at him and it was all he could do to keep her away. The searing pain in his chest was slowing him down considerably, making him weaker.
“Just a bloody moment, you daft bitch!” he shouted at her “Make a damned phone call. Call your soddin’ Watcher and ask him if it’s okay to dust Spike.”
She wasn’t having it though. A near blur of tiny rage, she swarmed at him and he found himself nearly staked again, coming away with a gash on his forearm where he turned the weapon aside. The trouble was, he was not accustomed to fighting in a purely defensive way. He didn’t want to hurt the stupid girl, so he was just knocking aside her attacks and giving ground. His uncomfortable style and the wound in his chest meant she was getting the better of him. She’d finish him soon if this continued.
Anger replaced his shock pretty quickly. He’d saved her and she had to know it. And instead of taking a bloody second to make a call, she’d seen vampire and gone crazy.
“Fine,” he snapped, growling and going back into game face. “You bloody did this, you silly bitch. If she wants to bitch about this, she can. Her soddin’ fault for not teaching you to be smarter.”
“Spike, don’t hurt her!” Tara called from the side, looking really worried.
“Not now, pet,” he growled, catching the Slayer in the gut with his foot as she tried to spin away from him “Kinda busy right now.”
He had to end it quickly. And he couldn’t let her use her speed to keep away from him as he continued to weaken. So he jumped on her, his arms wrapping around her torso and slammed her into a wall. She responded by snapping her head back and introducing his nose to the back of her head. He reeled a step, then snarled and cracked his fist directly into the side of her head. That did the trick; she slumped to the cold concrete, unconscious.
“Bloody hell,” he grumbled at her still form, pulling her stake from his ribcage with a pained grunt.
“Wow,” Tara said as she joined him to look at the unconscious Slayer “That was, wow. What should we do with her? She might attack you if we take her back.”
“No worries, bit,” he replied. Ignoring the pain in his shoulder and chest, he bent down and tossed the girl over his undamaged shoulder. “We’ll take her to Angel’s. Let him deal with her. The hero lives for this sort of thing.”
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The Hyperion hotel looked to have survived the Apocalypse well enough. Spike and Tara walked into the empty lobby with the still out Slayer. He dumped her unceremonious on the ground with a dull thump and she groaned in response.
“Angel!” he shouted “Get out here, Peaches! Got a gift for ya.”
It only took a moment for the Great Lump to appear from the back office. He had some kind of map in his hands and was talking to two young teenage girls. Dressed in his usual black, hair gelled to all hell and perpetual empty-headed, glum expression in place, he hadn’t changed at al in the last five months. His eye’s widened when he say who’d called him.
“Spike,” he nodded after a second. By his expression it was unclear if he was glad to see Spike or not “Wondered if you made it.”
“Sorry to disappoint, Peaches,” Spike smirked in response, his tone mocking “Still kickin’ here. Looks like you still don’t get to be the only game in town.”
“That’s not what I…” Angel scowled at him and continued on a different track “What happened to you? No one’s seen you.”
“That’s Marisol,” One of the teenagers with Angel broke in, pointing at the girl at Spike’s feet “What the hell did he do to Marisol?”
“That’s right, Slayer bit,” he turned his smirk on the girls, both of whom were scowling “Big Bad thumped you sorority sister right good.”
He turned back to Angel, giving the girl a nudge with his foot, “Looks like you have things covered here. Watch this one. Might try’n stake you when your back’s turned.”
Having said his piece, he turned and walked back out, Tara in tow. Angel shouted after him once, but Spike ignored him. He glanced Tara.
“Got something to say?”
She looked thoughtful “She’s probably alive because of you.”
“Yeah, and?” He snorted “She’s not gonna remember it that way.”
“Maybe not,” Tara offered him that lovely, gentle smile “but you should.”
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It was noon the next day and he was asleep on the couch of his temporary apartment home.
They were laying on the small cot he’d slept on in her basement in the last months they’d spent together. She was on her side and he was behind her, one hand idly running up and down her hip. He dipped his head slightly and inhaled her hair, taking in her scent.
He thought she was asleep but she proved him wrong by speaking softly, “What were you like when you were human? And don’t give me the Spike’s the Big Bad speech again.”
He kissed her shoulder gently, able to brush his lips over her skin because she only had a white tank top on. She shivered and nestled back into him a bit but spoke again after a moment, “Tell me.”
He shrugged. It wasn’t something he thought about much or liked to dwell on, but she asked and he couldn’t refuse her much. “A bit lost, I guess,” he admitted “I was a right enough bloke, I guess. Didn’t hurt anyone. Tried to do right by my mother. Suppose I was a bit lonely.”
Her head turned slightly and green eyes met blue, “Lonely?”
He shrugged, ”Sorry, luv, but its not really an good tale. I wasn’t someone that interesting things happened to. Fell for a girl that didn’t want anything to do with me, surprise surprise.” He grinned at her, but she didn’t take the bait.
“What did you want to do with yourself?” she looked really interested, even turning from her comfortable place in his arms to face him “You fell for a girl. Did you want to get married?”
He thought about that for a moment, “I suppose. I don’t think I ever really expected her to think of me that way so I never gave much thought to the after of it all. But yeah, settling down into a nice, sedate life was what I had in mind.”
“A nice, sedate life,” she murmured sleepily, curling into his chest again “I dream about that sometimes. Being with someone without all the apocalyptic fun times. Getting the chance to grow old with someone.”
He kissed her hair gently, ignoring the flash of pain he felt at her sleepy comment. “Who knows, luv. Might still be in the cards for you. Back to sleep, pet.”
She drifted off to sleep again, leaving him staring into the darkness, thinking about her dreams, and how much he didn’t seem to fit into them.
He woke slowly, the dream still heavy in his thoughts, and covered his eyes with an arm.
“Soddin hell, Buffy.” he whispered to the empty room, knowing he wouldn’t sleep again that day.