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 Six: The New Big Bad
He found them walking the Promenade of downtown Vegas. The two of them were trailing a vampire, hanging back as the doomed hunter and his intended prey meandered through the crowds milling through ever daylight bright glow of the outdoor walkway leading to the many casinos and strip clubs in the area. Twins, wearing matching leather pants and thick leather jackets, their long red hair tied back in matching single braids. Creepy, really.
Spike hung back as they followed the vampire around a corner to a darker street, pausing to light a cigarette and thought about turning around. He really didn’t want to speak to the Slayers, any of them. Word would get to her if he did and he wasn’t sure he wanted to know what she would or wouldn’t do once she heard. She had to know he was back after seeing Angel. Not that Spike cared, of course.
Shagging the soddin’ Immortal a few months after I take the bullet for her, he thought morosely. Bitch. Moving on is good, but take a bloody weekend.
When a crying girl, the one who’d been so giddily clutching a vampire’s arm a moment before, ran around the corner into the relative safety of the crowd, Spike rounded the corner himself and approached the twin Slayers. The two girls were replacing stakes to the inner lining of their jackets and looked up sharply when approached. First one set of dark green eyes and then a fraction later the second set widened in recognition.
To call the moment awkward would have been an understatement. The three of them stood there staring at each other in an increasingly painful silence as Spike battled his desire to simply walk away and the girls looked at each other in confusion. Finally he grunted disgustedly.
“Slayers,” he frowned, annoyed with himself for being such a nancy about this.
“You’re Spike, right?” The one on the right ventured, looking him up and down as if evaluating some of the thing’s she’d heard “We’re not supposed to stake you.”
“Good to know, pet,” he responded dryly. The two of them were near identical even down to their scent. He had to sort through a half dozen subtle lingering traces on them before he could identify a soapy fragrance that only one of them wore.
They glanced at each other, not speaking but clearly disagreeing about something. He broke their silent debate impatiently. “Much as I love watching the two of you pretend to be mirrors, can we get on with this? Got other places to be. You birds have a Watcher in town? Still doing things like that? Might not be enough Watchers around, come to think of it.”
“There isn’t,” the one on the left, the one with the soapy smell to her, frowned at him. “But yes, we do have someone with us. Vegas gets a priority over some other cities because there is a convergence here. It’s not exactly a Hellmouth, but we’ve been tracking amazing activity since we were called.”
Spike just looked at her at her little monologue and lifted his scarred brow eloquently, which was enough for her to flush a bit and fall silent. Her sister glanced at her and smirked, looking Spike over again. “No one mentioned the beauty mark,” she nodded at his marked cheek. “Where’d you pick that one up, pretty boy?”
“Had some trouble shaving,” he rolled his eyes. Why did every soddin’ slayer have to either be a complete social vacancy or a smart ass? Still, they were cute girls. His mind wandered a bit over the possibilities and a leer began to form before he caught himself and returned his scowl to its rightful place. “You might want to mention a bloke named Swan to your Watcher, Slayer. Dominic Swan.”
“Any reason in particular?” the smart ass asked while her sister actually got out a small notepad and wrote the name down.
“Not entirely sure,” Spike admitted. “Seems to be some bad sentiment for your lot going around in some circles and he seems to be one of the ones spreading the love, so to speak. Thought you should know.”
“Okay,” the talker of the two said slowly. “Thanks, I guess.”
The silence appeared again and once more grew uncomfortable, so Spike shrugged and turned to leave. He was forced to pause when the Slayer spoke again, sounding incredulous. “That’s it? You don’t have anything else to say?”
He glanced back and shrugged “If you need to get hold of me, I’ll wander by this spot now and then.”
“Ooookay,” the girl managed to put all kinds of context in that single drawn out word.
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Gate made a few appearances over the next week, popping in for an hour or so each visit to pass on a bit of information or just to hang out, which he seemed to enjoy. Each time he seemed to be wearing a couple of fresh bruises, including a black eye that was almost completely shut. These bruises were a result of the screening process he was undergoing to prove his value to the Big Bad, he assured them. He shared information on this Dominic Swan freely as he came by it, seemingly taking some amusement in his role as a spy. He never stayed long for these visits however, claiming that the new boss was making demands on his time that couldn’t be ignored for long.
Tara found herself nervously waiting for information to come in. The sum of her experience fighting the forces of evil had taken place in Sunnydale in the presence of an extensive and well maintained library of the occult courtesy of an experienced Watcher. Answers had always been available with a little research. In Vegas, she didn’t have access to that font of knowledge and she found herself missing it almost as much as she missed the many late nights with the Scoobies reviewing some new threat. While she’d been slowly building her own collection of magical tomes and histories, her meager collection simply wasn’t adequate to the task and she knew it.
Spike spent his time in the bars, speaking to some of the shadier creatures that called Las Vegas home. He had some luck in that regard, at least. Dominic was a well known figure in the city and had rubbed enough people wrong that some word was bound to filter out. He confirmed Gate’s initial warning about Dominic bringing in hired muscle and managed to pick up a few more nuggets of precious information as well but they still had a woefully incomplete picture of the enemy’s agenda.
Tara’s hotel room ended up being the focal point for the investigation. One of her walls began to disappear behind a blanket of post-its and index cards, each with the name of a lackey in the organization or some rumor about Dominic’s abilities. Each new nugget one of the boys would bring in would be carefully indexed and added to the larger puzzle until finally they began to see a picture forming.
They were reasonably certain that Dominic was a Tyssian, a class of demon native to another plane of existence but known to have the ability to walk between worlds. Almost wholly human in appearance, the Tyssian were considered to be ‘human friendly” in that they were more interested in building financial empires than wrecking carnage on the innocent. Beyond that, information was scarce.
Dominic in particular had been in Vegas since the city’s birth,, it seemed. He’s been there when the mob had arrived and turned a tiny outpost in the middle of no where into a bastion of self indulgence and sin and had managed to make the transition from family money to corporate backing as the rest of Vegas had. Very little was known about him personally but he was well respected (or feared) in the local demon community, and that was noteworthy in itself. He was very much a power player in the city and beyond, with fingers in arenas both legal and less than legal. Reportedly he even had close contact with the Mayor.
Tara couldn’t quite shake the uneasy feeling she was getting. She felt uncertain, powerless. While neither Spike nor Gate appeared concerned, she couldn’t shake the feeling that there was something they weren’t sharing with her. When they discussed the matter at all, it was in a casual way as if the matter wasn’t terribly important. She noticed that Spike had stopped drinking, however. Whatever his amused tone indicated, his eyes were anything but playful.
The three of them were together when the invitation came. Spike and Gate were shooting pool and arguing about a band called “The Pixie’s” of all things when one of the hotel staff arrived and handed all three of them envelopes inlaid with gold script. Gate chuckled as soon as the employee walked out again.
“That’s fifty you owe me,” he commented, setting his aside without looking at it and bending over the table to line up his shot.
“Bugger,” Spike muttered, tossing his aside as well. “He’s a cocky little wanker.”
“What is it?” Tara looked at them, confused, then opened her envelop. “Oh,” she said after a moment.
An invitation to a private party hosted by one Dominic Swan. Huh.
“Are we going to go?” she said finally.
“Why not?” Spike shrugged, “It’ll give us a chance to meet the man in person. Might learn a thing or two.”
“What did you two bet on?” she looked back down at the invitation distractedly. Two days away.
“I didn’t think he had the stones to step out of his boardroom,” the vampire smirked. “Figured the stuffy git would send his people to try and intimidate us.”
Gate grinned, pocketing his newly acquired money. His smile faltered when he noticed Tara’s fretful frown though. “You don’t have to worry, Tara,” he assured her “He’s not going to try and kill anyone at his own party.”
“It’s not that,” she replied, still looking worried.
“What then?”
“Well,” she said after a moment “What do you wear to a demon party?”
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The first attack came the night after they received their invitations to Dominic’s party. Spike was loitering on a darkened corner a half block away from the neon glow of downtown smoking a cigarette. True to his word, he’d made it a point to be in that same spot nightly so the Slayers knew where to get hold of him. He’d seen them each night since their first talk though no one had said much. A few comments about the investigation on both ends and the sharing of any pertinent information before they went their separate ways.
Something about the way the Slayers looked at him made him uncomfortable. He couldn’t quite place it. A bit like he was a celebrity and they were slightly awed. A bit like he was a sideshow special, an oddity to be gawked at. Whatever it was he didn’t like spending much time in their presence. He’d make a snaky comment about them undressing him with their eyes but his heart wasn’t really in it, especially when neither one had bothered to argue the point.
They were just approaching him that night when dark clothed figures dropped down to the pavement of the sidewalk from the rooftops above. No one had a chance to react before the six small figures, each dressed from head to foot in dull black leathers so that no part of them but their eyes was visible, drew twin steel swords and launched themselves at the vampire and two slayers.
It was all Spike could do to avoid being sliced and diced in those first few seconds. He danced back, kicking and punching more to keep the edges of those swords away from him than to threaten the two hooded figures closing on him. They moved fluidly, expertly, weaving their blades in an intricate dance as they circled, looking for a weakness in his defense.
The Slayers were doing better than he was, he saw. In that peculiar style they had, they moved as a single unit, swaying and shifting to protect each others weak spot without a word spoken between them. He saw the bolder of the two spin and leap over her sisters back to land a kick with a sickening crack to the face of one of the attackers and the attacker dropped instantly. Before the three remaining enemies were able to seize advantage of the brief opening, the girls were back to back again.
One of his own opponents picked that second to launch a savage flurry of blade strokes his way, making the air between them whistle with angry steel. He darted behind a phone pole and heard one of the swords make a heavy thunk as it embedded in the wood of the pole. Taking no time, he sprang up from the other side of the pole as the assassin worked to get his blade free. He came up behind the man, hands finding flesh, and the killer’s neck was snapped.
Pain lanced through him then at the same time a heavy force seemed to slam into his back. The tip of a sword point jutted obscenely out of his stomach, having gone all the way through his body when it was rammed into his back. He howled and spun, catching the devious assassin with a backhanded punch that sent the man reeling back.
It took a painful moment to push the sword back out of his body. He had to use the telephone pole again, but he finally got it and tossed it to the concrete with a heavy clatter. “I just got this soddin’ thing repaired, damnit,” he sighed, looking down at his once again damaged duster.
The assassin had recovered and was advancing with his lone remaining blade, crouched low, dark eyes cold with the promise of death. Spike allowed himself to smirk as he moved toward the killer. It did feel good to find himself in a nice scrape again, he realized. He felt almost like he had before Los Angeles had gone to hell.
When the killer lifted is blade to attack again, Spike darted in and slammed the man’s arm against the nearby wall. One slam, then another, then a third and the sword clattered to the concrete. He grinned then and smashed his fist into the struggling man’s stomach. When he dropped, the vampire brought his boot up to meet the man’s head and that was that. Silence once again reigned.
“He’s pretty good,” a begrudging voice allowed and he turned back to the watching Slayers.
“Of course he is,” the quieter sister responded pertly “I read an interesting dissertation about him. He’s supposed to be quite a fighter. Even as a younger vampire, he--”
“There might be more, you know,” he interrupted impatiently, squatting down to search the bodies.
“I thought he’d be more.. I don’t know.. flirty,” the bolder one went to search a body as well, sounding disappointed “they way they described him, you know…”
“Well, he is very sexy,” her sister replied thoughtfully, not searching a body but instead seeming to take down the details of their appearance on her notepad. She didn’t even look at Spike as she spoke, by her tone she could have been discussing anything at all.
“I guess so,” the first looked Spike over again, speculative.
He found a small amulet on the body and held it up to peer at it. A second later the Slayer pulled a second amulet off one of her attackers bodies as well. Old, made of iron by the smell, with an image of cat’s head surrounded by a ring of curved swords much like the assassins had used engraved on it. He bounced it on his palm thoughtfully, looking over the corpses littering the sidewalk.
“Someone will be along,” he said, rising to his feet. “We’d best move on, Slayers.”
“This the hired muscle, or something new and fun?” the bolder Slayer asked, pocketing her amulet as he did the same. He wondered absently what their names were.
“That amulet shouldn’t be difficult for your Watcher to look up, pet,” he said “Should tell us a bit more when he does.”
They seemed to want to continue talking, but he left them to go find their watcher and share the latest. The last thing he wanted was to be around girls that were almost but not quite Buffy. It was tough enough without the constant reminders.
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When the time for the party finally arrived, their reactions were markedly different. Spike, in that way Spike had, would not be convinced to dress up so he was sprawled out on the couch of his room in a rumpled Ramone’s shirt. The only concession he’d made was getting a fresh coat of black nail polish. While he certainly seemed eager to meet Dominic, he muttered more than once about being forced to attend the “posh party.”
Gate had shown up in a very nice suit, looking decked out and quite stylish. He seemed to be enjoying the opportunity to dress up, pausing every so often to straighten his charcoal suit or to make sure that his shoes had that perfect gleam. It was clear that he was just playing dress up though and didn’t care in the slightest if he was in rags or a five thousand dollar suit. For all of his preening, he mentioned more than once that he’d be glad when the party was over.
Tara took the longest to get ready, of course. While she commandeered the bathroom, they patiently waited in in front of the television playing Super Mario Bros on an old Nintendo they‘d dug up somewhere. In the course of their game, she heard their agitated voices raising in curses more than once. It was worse than when they gambled.
She stared at herself in the mirror, nervousness coursing through her as she gazed upon her reflection. The dress was bold. Dark green, shoulder-less, and showing more skin than she’d expected when she first saw the dress, it was not something she’d have ever considered wearing. Ever. The little cocktail dress was daring, oh yes.
The witch couldn’t help but flush as she tugged at the front of the little dress to make sure it was secure. Oh dear.
Her nervous look firmed, though. She wasn’t a frightened girl anymore. She was traveling with a century old vampire and was an important part of his destiny. She could wear whatever she liked. She kept telling herself that as she left the bathroom and joined the boys. They looked up and she nervously sought their eyes. Bless them both, neither one of them laughed at her. In fact, they both had an appreciative glint to their eyes that she found quite gratifying.
“Well,” Spike drawled, a slow smile forming as he looked her up and down “Well well well. Aren’t we a tasty morsel, Glinda?”
Gate looked delighted and walked over and hugged her gently, causing her to blink in confusion. Since when was she on hugging terms with the maybe evil mystery man?
“You look fantastic, Tara,” he said approvingly, releasing her from the not so unpleasant hug “You should let this side of you out more often.”
“Hands to yourself, mate,” Spike smirked, grabbing his coat. “Probably turn you into a bug or something.”
“I wouldn’t,” She protested when Gate looked at her “Hugging is good. We like hugging.”
She blushed again. Why had she said that? He was probably evil, which meant he would most likely try and kill them sooner or later. She shouldn’t have said that to someone who would probably try to kill them. The trouble was, he didn’t feel evil. Hugging him had felt a lot like hugging Xander. Like hugging a friend.
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The party was in full swing when they arrived. The entire penthouse suit had been cleared to house the more than a hundred guests as well as the large serving staff. Lavish decorations were everywhere in decadent splendor, giving the entire party a feel of being shrouded in gold and white marble. Party-goers were everywhere, both human and otherwise. Laughter and the constant drone of many conversations filled the air, all but drowning out the efforts of the musicians passively playing in the largest room.
Tara took a moment to take in the party as they entered. It was so far outside her experience that it took a moment to overcome the overwhelming feeling of inadequacy that assaulted her. Different, but it did look like fun. Even the assorted demons, and she could see more demons than humans wandering about, all seemed on their best behavior.
She turned to speak to her friends, but they had already wandered off. Gate had appropriated a glass of wine and was already speaking quietly with a small cluster of young women. Whatever it was he said, it worked. Their half scandalized giggles echoed even over the noise of the party.
Spike, meanwhile, had taken off in the other direction. She saw him approach one of the demons that occasionally played poker with him, a flabby skinned creature that looked wholly miserable in a nice suit. The vampire parked beside the uncomfortable demon and they began talking casually as Spike’s eyes roamed the party, probably seeking the famous Dominic.
“My my,” a low, nearly purring voice said at Tara’s elbow as the witch was about to join Spike “what an absolutely lovely dress. And you wear it so… very well.”
Tara blushed even before she turned to face her admirer. Maybe the dress had been a mistake, after all. But her shy denial stalled in her throat as she faced the woman standing beside her. She was breathtaking. Tall with long elegant hair the color of midnight and emerald green eyes that danced as a slow, alluring smile formed that curled at pouty, inviting lips. And the dress, it was almost indecent how low it was cut, how much of her lush frame was displayed behind the sheer blood red material.
“I…” Tara said weakly, feeling her face flush even deeper “Thank you. You… Your dress is nice too.”
The woman’s smile widened slowly and one elegant hand lifted to allow her to brush back a lock of Tara’s hair. The brief sensation of their skin touching was intimate, almost sensual. Tara found herself wondering wildly if there was a closet nearby to hide in. The encounter was so sexual, so overtly, rawly physical. She felt her palms grow damp in response.
“So very lovely,” the woman murmured smokily, stepping closer until Tara was certain she couldn’t see anything but those deep green eyes “Here alone, pigeon?”
“My friends,” Tara replied softly when she found her voice again.
“Yes,” the woman smiled languidly, like a contented cat “I brought… friends as well. They all seem to have abandoned me, sadly. Perhaps we should--”
“Analie!” Gate’s voice interrupted whatever the woman had been about to suggest and suddenly he was there, somehow partially between the two women. The woman, Analie, was forced to either step back or speak to him almost nose to nose.
She looked less than pleased as she moved back a step, speaking as if too a poorly received acquaintance. “Gate,” she said distantly “I hadn’t heard you were in Vegas.”
“New development,” he agreed brightly, taking the opportunity to hand Tara a drink, which she drank in a single gulp. “And you? Last I heard, you were back east. I know because I was entertained when I heard how those demon hunters chased you out of your apartment.”
Emerald eyes caught fire and all of that sexual energy seemed to shift into lethal, icy rage. “I was not chased out of anywhere,” she hissed.
Tara, watching the quick change, found herself getting her bearings. She hadn’t been attracted to the strange woman. Not at all. Her knees didn’t feel like they wanted to give out on her. Not even a little.
“Demon hunters?” she asked to break the chilly silence between the glaring woman and an equally amused Gate.
“A misunderstanding, pigeon,” the woman turned the full force of her smile on Tara again with disconcerting success “It’s been settled. And no, I don’t live in Las Vegas, Gate.” she added, shooting the blond man a disapproving look “Dominic is an old friend. I’m in town to see him.”
“Well, it’s great to see you again, Ana,” he nodded amiably at her story, not seeming to notice her distaste. “We should get coffee or something while you are here. I know a great little place at the Luxor.”
“Yes,” she frowned at him, then at Tara before making a graceful retreat. “I’ll see if I have a few moments to spare. If you’ll excuse me?”
She walked off before either could respond, leaving Tara staring after her wonderingly and Gate rolling his eyes. “Can’t say I approve of your tastes, Tara,” he quipped, taking her by the elbow and leading her deeper into the party “But really, I’m not one to judge. I once spent a year chasing around a Brazilian Deep Wood Sprite.”
“I wasn’t,” she protested, reddening yet again “We were just talking.”
“Sure, sure,” he nodded indulgently “Your secrets safe with me. Scouts honor.”
“You were a scout?” she asked dubiously.
“Well,” he hedged, then nodded and pointed discretely “Look, the Spike and Dominic meeting we’ve all been breathless to witness.”
Sure enough, when she looked she saw Spike talking to an immaculately dressed middle aged man that could only be Dominic. The air, the raw feeling of power surrounding the man was daunting. It wasn’t some demon out on a rampage, but a creature that knew the sum of his own power and was fully prepared and able to use every ounce of it. He was looking down his nose at Spike, who was smirking in that way he had when he was being as offensive as he possibly could,
“--ink you’re mistaken, Spike,” the elegant man was saying, his tone thick with old country Italian flavor “I assure you, I’m a businessman and nothing more.”
“Right, Tony Soprano,” Spike returned, looking around “Pretty posh place. Living the life up here, aren’t you?”
“I’ve had a measure of success in my endeavors,” Dominic said coolly “The rewards for success are many.”
“Well, mate,” Spike went on “Be a real shame if someone took a match to all this. Make a right mess.”
“And who could possibly be stupid enough to think they would survive such an act?” Dominic asked, a dark brow lifting dangerously “Do you know anyone that eager to die?”
“I might,” Spike smiled slowly, a dangerous air growing around him to match Dominic’s.
They stared at each other for a long moment. Tara could almost see the hate being exchanged in that silent stare. It was electric.
“I wish you well with your Slayers,” Dominic said after a moment, threat lacing every word “I’d be heartbroken to hear anything happened to them.”
“They’re tough girls,” Spike responded, his own voice hard “Imagine they’ll kill anything looking to cause them a fuss. I‘d like to see something try.”
“Then we agree,” Dominic smiled evenly. “I look forward to our next meeting, Spike.”
“I wouldn’t,” was Spikes only response as he turned and walked out. A second later, Tara followed him.
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Gate was out on one of the many balconies of the penthouse admiring the view of the Strip about an hour after Spike left the party when Dominic appeared beside him, wine glass in hand. They stood watching the sleepless city for a while in easy silence. Dominic broke the silence first, speaking in thoughtful tones.
“You’re friend is quite a character,” he murmured. “I gave some real thought to having him killed tonight.”
“You’re not the first to say either of those things,” came the amused response.
“He managed to foul up my assassins,” Dominic frowned.
“Told you he would,” Gate shrugged without interest.
“Triple your fee if you bring me one of the Slayers,” Dominic sipped his wine.
Gate cocked his head slightly to the side as he considered the offer. He chuckled after a brief pause and turned his boyish smile to Dominic.
“Double that, and you can have both.”
Note: To the person that suggested that the end of the Los Angeles part was rushed. I went back and looked and you are absolutely right. The LA part was intended to be very quick, with much of the story happening "offstage" but the closing of it definitely felt more rushed than it should have. Thanks for pointing that out. I'll have to go back and fix it when I have some time.
Appreciate all the responses, guys. Hope you are enjoying the story.