Sunnyhell Style
SUMMARY: The Dark Lord seeks an end to Harry Potter and comes upon a certain red headed witch in Sunnydale who may just be the solution to his dilemma. Little does he know he's about to face the ultimate smack down, Sunnyhell style. PG-13 BtVS/HP
DISCLAIMER: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer, which belongs to the all mighty Joss Whedon and Co. Nor do I claim ownership over the Harry Potter verse, which is product of the wonderful J.K. Rowling. Read on.
Chapter 1: Enter Ophelia
She was pissed. No, more than just pissed. She was downright, curse-you-to-hell, never-ending-torment, out-of-my-freaking-way MAD. And that was definitely saying something for a witch capable of ending the world as it is with a nod of her head.
Willow burst into the tomb, with the air of one righteously wronged woMAN, and strode over to the peroxide haired, former resident, Big Bad.
"How dare you! You, mister, have just crossed the line! I can't believe you went and did that behind my back! You snot-nosed evil lurkerer! You… you…" the fiery red head quickly lost her steam as she noticed the lazy grin the vampire was giving her. Suddenly, all resolve melted away into apprehension. Something was most definitely off.
"You… Spike what's wrong with you? You seem… different?" The end of that statement came out a lot more wobbly than she had intended. Not to mention she had not planned her whole "You have wronged me" speech to take such a turn. The air felt charged with expectation, magic, and danger.
Closing his eyes briefly, the master vampire inhaled deeply and grinned, "Interesting. Absolutely fascinating. Who would have thought it would be you? I never would have suspected it. This won't be a complete loss after all."
"I… I what? Spike what's going on? Why are you acting, all… all kooky?" she asked, her hand waving in befuddlement.
The blonde vampire appraised her with his glittering eyes, a flicker of something passing through his cerulean orbs. He got up from this languid position, duster awhirl, and slowly began to circle the witch like a hunter to his prey.
To say the least, Willow was getting more nervous by the second. This was really, really off. Just this morning she recalled Buffy telling her how Spike was doing much better since the whole ordeal of his now soul-having existence. He had returned to his crypt and was more or less an accepted member of the Scooby gang. So why was Spike eyeing her like she was the best thing he'd seen in a century or so?
"Okay, haha Spike, I get it. You're trying to scare me again, convince me you still have it in you to be the Big Bad. Well I get it okay? Just cut it, you're seriously creeping me out!"
Nothing, absolutely nothing. He just continued to circle her, eyeing her in a way that would make her grandmother blush, but also as if he could see right through her. In fact, as she looked at him out of the corner of her eye, she noticed that was in fact squinting rather oddly, in a way that would blur her figure together.
"Ahh, yes. I see it now, ingenious really, for it to be in someone so innocent. Well looks are deceiving," muttered the blonde vampire.
"Okayy. Spike I'm going to go back home now and we can pretend this never happened."
Willow began to edge her way back to the door, clutching her bag in front of her, wishing she had just let things be. Perhaps Spike was still not used to having a soul. After all, it took Angel well over a century to come to grips with it, and even then, he had his king of brood attitude. Spike was probably under another one of his odd attacks. Either way, she had to get out before she got hurt.
Sure, Willow was the most powerful magically inclined person on her side of the world, but that didn't mean she should come to rely on her magic to get her out of every situation, thus leading to the apocalyptic events of last year. Throwing her mind back to the present, Willow reached a hand back for the doorknob and nearly sighed in relief. She definitely needed to tell Buffy about this when she got home. Perhaps Spike still need to be chained in the Summers' basement. Perhaps it was too soon for him to go free.
"Alright Spike, I'm leaving now. Oh, and by the way, here's some blood," Willow fumbled through her bag, thankful that she remembered in the nick of time that she was also here to deliver Spike his food, since they still didn't trust him to get it himself. Finding the paper bag of pig's blood, Willow set it on a table nearby and was nearly to the door when she heard a growl and froze.
"Pig's blood? What is this girl? Vampires drink blood from living, breathing humans! Pathetic! You have this fool whipped."
Willow was deeply confused. Why was Spike acting like this was a surprise? Why was he talking in the third person? In all of his manic episodes, Spike had never behaved like this. It was almost as if he… wasn't… himself.
Click.
"Oh!" Willow's eyes widened and she stepped back in realization, "Oh my!" Fumbling through her bag once more she raced to get her phone out and call Buffy. Buffy has to know now! With this thought running through her head, the witch didn't notice the curse heading her way until it was too late.
"Petrificus totalis!" With a gasp, Willow found herself completely immobilized, her limbs snapping together and holding fast. The last thing she remembered as her body fell to the floor and she slipped into unconsciousness, was why in the world Spike, or the fake-Spike, was holding a long, wooden stick.
Smirking in self-satisfaction, Lucius Malfoy surveyed the young witch and mentally did a check of everything he had come for. Noticing the packet of blood on the table, he quickly transfigured it into a piece of silverware not wanting to leave any indication of the girl's visitation here. However, he could not believe that the vampire whose face he currently wore, had sunk so low as to take animal blood from humans – humans he would have gladly drunk from a few years ago. The infamous vampire was down even in the wizarding history books, which was one reason for Lucius' apprehension in taking this task. He was wary of the opposition he might face. After all, this Spike, or William the Bloody as he was better known, terrorized the better half of the world for well over the century, along with three other equally infamous vampires.
But what the master ordered, Lucius obeyed. And much to his surprise it all happened to work out quite nicely for him, with no bloodshed on his part. Tucking his wand into the leather duster he wore, a muggle fashion statement that was perhaps the best thing about this vampire, Lucius looked at the unconscious red head. In the wizarding world, she could easily pass for that muggle loving family known as the Weasleys.
Shaking his head in disgust, he set to work to the task at hand, muttering another spell to bind the young witch and take her back to his master. With a gasp, Lucius returned to his regular self, the effects of the Polyjuice potion wearing off. Wrinkling his polished forehead in disdain, he muttered yet another spell and changed back into the wizarding robes he was so used to. Lifting the trap door at the floor of the crypt, he made sure that the vampire was still asleep and out of the way, before grabbing the prone girl and apparating back to his master.
He would be most pleased at the way Lucius had handled the situation. And the elder Malfoy was looking very forward to his reward.
End.
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Review please!