Chapter Text
Spike’s not sure how he ended up here. Well, he did track the slayer down, save her life and offer her a deal, but still. He didn’t sign up for family drama night.
It’s all Angel’s fault.
The slayer’s mother is harping on, yelling about how it’s not possible and it doesn’t make any sense and that Buffy (bloody ridiculous name) must be sick. The woman holds a hand to her daughter’s forehead, maybe trying to feel for a temperature or something, but it makes the slayer scowl and push her away.
‘Mom, I don’t have time for this! More people are going to die, the world is probably going to end, I need you to just-’
‘First vampires, then slayers, now the world is ending! Buffy, you’re having delusions again.’ The mother says desperately. The slayer looks like she’s been slapped, before she takes a deep, deliberate breath.
‘It’s not a delusion. Mom, you also just saw that vampire turn to dust.’
‘I don’t know what I saw, but whatever’s going on here-’
‘Spike!’ The slayer snaps, turning to him furiously. She’s still gripping a stake in her hand - so Spike’s ready to put up a fight, when she gestures back at her mother. ‘Tell her! Or go into your vamp face or something.’
Excuse me?
First, Spike doesn’t answer to anyone, especially not a slayer. Second, he’s only here to get the love of his unlife back (and save the world), not convince an oblivious mother. And third, as he glances between the two women who are both glaring at him for different reasons… he’s pretty sure there is no right move here.
Definitely all Angel’s fault.
But Spike needs the slayer, otherwise he’ll never get Dru back, and they’ll all be starving in hell while every human gets boiled or blown up or something. And they can’t be meals or make cigarettes or film new episodes of Passions if they’re all dead. So for the slayer to cooperate, he’s just going to have to suck it up. He clears his throat. ‘Uh, yeah. Vampires are real, one of them’s trying to end the world, she’s the slayer-’ Spike points at Buffy, who looks at least somewhat vindicated, and then he shifts to his game face. He hears Mrs. Summers gasp. ‘And I’m a vampire.’
The slayer’s mother covers her mouth, looking like the world is already ending for her. The slayer sighs, and grabs her mother by the arm. ‘Let’s just… get inside.’
Spike follows them, but after the two women cross the threshold, he waits by the door. The mother is already talking again, now about help and the police and the army. Spike almost laughs. As if a slayer isn’t an army all her own, this one especially. Besides, the fella he beat off earlier was a cop, and given that the pig was about to shoot her, it doesn’t seem like the slayer’s all that cosy with law enforcement.
She’s moving through her house with purpose, away from her mother up the hallway, when Spike clears his throat. ‘Hey, pet?’
The slayer freezes, before slowly turning around with a questioning glare. He gestures at the invisible barrier. She clenches and unclenches the stake in her fist, before sighing, something deep and bone weary. ‘Come in. Try anything and I’ll stake you, deal be damned.’ It’s an odd phrase for her, sounding old and stuffy. Maybe she learnt it off of her watcher.
Spike steps inside, closing the door behind him, and easing out of his vamp face.
‘We’re bringing the- the vampire inside? Isn’t that dangerous?’ The mother asks, and it snaps the slayer’s eyes away from him. She almost looks like she’s about to laugh.
‘Yes, Mom, it is.’
‘Here on white flag terms. I won’t bite.’ Spike says with a grin, and the slayer gives him a withering glance, stake still trained on him.
‘Stay there. I need to make a call.’ She turns to her mother. ‘Mom, just, try to calm down. I need to call the hospital.’
‘The hospital!’ Her mother shouts, anything but calm. ‘Who’s at the hospital!?’
She follows her daughter through the hallway into another room until they’re both out of sight. Spike can still hear them arguing. His grin drops, and he rolls his shoulders, trying to ease some of the tension in them.
He thinks he’s been putting on a pretty good front. The charismatic, confident vampire - here to help save the world. Any time he felt like his hands were starting to tremor, he’d just shove them into his duster pockets and say a witty line.
Going against Angel - it’s either going to be Spike’s finest hour and the best possible revenge, or he’s completely fucked and facing possibly the longest, slowest, most torturous death he can imagine. And going against Dru… she has to understand. Once Spike gets her away from that prick, she’d be able to understand. He’s doing this for her.
Spike clenches his jaw, and pulls out a cigarette. A smoke’ll take the edge off. But when he opens his lighter, there’s a tiny, offended cough from upstairs. Spike glances up, noticing a kid with wispy brown hair and an irritatingly familiar glare peeking down at him.
Right, there’s a kid sis.
‘You can’t smoke in here!’ The girl whispers angrily, clearly trying not to alert her shouting family that she’s up.
Raising an eyebrow, Spike flicks on the flame and lights up the cigarette. The girl gasps in outrage, and comes out from behind the wall, standing at the top of the stairs. She’s a little thing, probably about ten, all gangly limbs and furious glaring. Her Snoopy pyjamas aren’t exactly making him shake in his boots, though.
‘My sister will kick your butt!’
‘Isn’t it past your bedtime, kid?’ Spike asks, not bothering to lower his voice.
The girl’s eyes dart nervously in the direction of the shouting, before taking another step down the stars. ‘My name is Dawn, not kid.’
Spike doesn’t mind children. Sometimes he even likes them. Sure, there’s the overhyped idea that they’re cute or sweet or whatever. But they’ve also got a fresher taste and can be more naive or scared then adults, making for a much more entertaining kill. Also demonic children are so fun. Vampires who were sired as kids have the most hilarious and chaotic ideas. (except for that anointed one. he was boring as hell.) But even as a human he’d liked children. He was always the one taking care of Luella, or left minding his younger cousins, or taking his visiting nieces and nephews on tours around London. Those unexpected, bittersweet memories are not what he needs to be thinking about right now, especially when he already feels like he’s walking on a fucking razor’s edge.
Despite knowing this kid for about thirty seconds, Spike already doesn’t like her. Maybe she reminds him of the slayer, maybe it’s the holier-than-thou attitude, or maybe it’s just the fact that there’s something- off about her. He thinks he’d enjoy killing her, but unfortunately the last thing he needs is a pissed off slayer trying to kill him instead of teaming up with him.
Teaming up with slayers, what has happened to him? Damn this town, and damn Angel. If he wants to go to hell so bad why does he have to drag the rest of them down too?
Instead of giving into his instincts, Spike tamps down his bloodlust, takes another drag of his cigarette and blows it in the direction of the girl. ‘Well, nibblet, maybe you should go back upstairs. This isn’t going to be a child-friendly discussion.’ Lead him not into temptation, and all that.
The girl - Dawn - huffs petulantly, and takes a couple more steps down, fanning at the air as she goes. ‘I’m not a child. I know things. You’re Spike - the vampire.’
‘Not all that impressive, considering you probably overheard your mum and sister saying that a minute ago.’
She’s nearly at the bottom of the stairs now. She crosses her arms, standing eye level with him. ‘You’re William the Bloody. You’ve killed two slayers, and a whole bunch of other people. And you’re working with Angel.’ She spits out Angel’s name like the taste of it offends her.
Alright, this kid might not be a total write off.
‘My reputation precedes me, although only two out of three apply now.’
Something shifts in the girl’s gaze, less offended, more curious. She creeps down the last few stairs, holding onto the railing. ‘What are you doing here?’
‘Was invited.’
She rolls her eyes. ‘I got that part. But why?’
Spike doesn’t say anything, blowing out another puff of smoke and letting it unfurl around him. Telling the kid doesn’t count as “trying anything”, does it? Maybe getting the kid on his good side might make the slayer listen to him without a stake in her hand.
He leans down and gestures for the girl to come closer. She hesitates, glancing down the hallway where the yelling has now quietened. Smart girl. But then her face sets, and she walks up to Spike. Not so smart. She’d definitely be dead in any other scenario.
‘I’ve got a deal for your sister.’
‘Buffy doesn’t make deals with vampires.’ The girl wrinkles her nose, but there’s doubt in her voice. Why else would William the Bloody be standing in her house?
‘“Buffy” doesn’t have much of a choice. It’s my deal, or everyone she knows suffering a fiery, brutal death.’ Spike says bluntly, and the girl’s eyes go wide. For a second he’s afraid she’s about to cry, and that will definitely get him staked. But then she scowls and fiercely kicks him in the shin. He doubles over - in surprise, obviously (maybe a tiny bit of pain, brat is stronger than she looks), but before he can grab her, the girl is running back up the stairs.
‘Oi!’ He snaps, but he only sees brown hair ducking around the corner. Little shit.
‘What are you doing?’ A tired voice says, and Buffy the vampire slayer herself comes back into view, watching him suspiciously. ‘You can’t smoke in here. Put it out, go wait in there.’ She gestures to the living room on his left. There’s a tiny chuckle from upstairs, so quiet he’s probably the only one who can hear it. Spike’s about to bite back, to hell with needing help, but the slayer’s attention is already past him. ‘Mom, just, go wait with him. I need to call Cordelia back, she says Willow’s awake.’
The slayer walks away again, and her disgruntled mother storms past. She goes to a cupboard in the living room and opens it with enough force to slam the hinges against the wall.
‘Spike, isn’t it?’ The woman asks. Keep the peace, Spike. Keep the peace, make a deal, kill Angel and get the hell out of Sunnyhell with Dru.
‘Yeah, that’s me.’
Her back is to him, so he drops the cigarette on the floor and puts it out with his boot.
‘Do you want a drink?’ She’s already pouring one for herself, hand only shaking slightly.
It’s already been a hell of a night, and it’s only going to get worse. ‘Sure. Why not?’