Blood and Roses
Chp. 1
A/N (important!)- Hello everyone! Here is the first chapter to 'Blood and Roses'. I have had this story idea banging around my head for…man…about a year, and now its decided to come out and play : ) It take place after season six. For this story, season seven did not happen. But yes, the good, the bad and the ugly in S.6 all happened. I am not sure how long this will be, but I have definite ideas for how I want this to go…but it'll really depend if anyone likes this. I may think it's a good story…but each to their own. And feedback is extremely important to me…as to any writer. I also feel I must warn you that I am a major B/S fan (or as I like to call it, BSr…if you need further explanation please look to my profile)…but I believe that their relationship can't come too easily…so I hope you understand and hang in there with me : )
Anyways, I hope you enjoy this.
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He stepped softly, the night clubs deafening music hiding the sound of his shoes whispering across the pavement.
"Well, well…what have we here?"
The vampire looked behind him. Seeing another vampire he clutched the sobbing woman tighter. He sneered at the intruder, licking blood red lips. "Go get your own."
"Oh, I think not."
The vampire holding the girl growled, his eyes flashing. Turning, he threw the woman down, then faced the interferer.
The intruder remained indifferent to the hostile stance of the other vampire. He cocked his head, as though curious. "What are you, six months old?"
An insulted growl was his answer, the dark haired intruder smiled, "Ah, maybe one year?"
The intruder sighed and rolled his eyes as the other vampire charged at him. The dark haired vampire, with seemingly carelessness, grabbed his attacker by the throat and pushed him roughly against the alley's brick wall.
"Not more than two years, I'd wager." The intruder continued as though nothing had happened. "Even a two year old would know when he was facing a Master."
The younger vampire's eyes widened, horror and terror painting his features.
The Master loosened a stake from his sleeve, and then without ceremony, plunged it into the fledglings' chest. Spike watched the dust flutter between his fingers. "...bloody swear, they're getting more stupid every year…" He muttered to himself, sliding the stake back up his sleeve.
Spike soon came aware he wasn't alone. He walked over to the dumpster and looked behind it. The woman gasped when she saw him, her face wet and blotchy from tears. She sprang from her hiding space wrapping her arms around her savior.
"Oh my god! Oh my god! I thought I…he bit me! The bastard bit me! If you hadn't come…!"
Spike stared down at the woman who was holding onto to him in a vice-grip, his eyebrows furrowed. He shook her off, growling in displeasure.
"Get away from me."
"Please let me…I…how can I re-pay you…"
Spike growled pushing the woman back, "Get away from me." He saw and heard her intake of breath as she saw his eyes flash gold.
She backed up, her eyes riveted to his face. Fear overcoming any feelings of gratitude she had for him. He watched her run away, her footsteps soon fading from his ears.
--
Spike sat at the bar, his eyes downcast, staring into the red depths of his glass. He had ordered it two hours before, and still it sat untouched.
He may have appeared unaware of his surroundings, but he knew exactly what was happening around him. Whether he wanted to know or not, ingrained in his vampire genetic code he had the ability to know exactly his environment without an actual visual assessment. As years passed after his death he found this trait only strengthened along with his other vampire skills.
By the time he had entered the bar and ordered his drink, he knew exactly what and how many creatures were in the bar, which said demons were the most likely to be a physical threat, and where all the exits were.
It was in this same way he knew the scent and its owner that drifted to him slowly, assaulting his senses, making him blink for the first time in an hour, his brow creasing, disbelieving.
He knew that scent.
We know that scent.
He never thought…
It was quick. He barely felt the pain of his head hitting the wall. He blinked blearily as the sides of his vision darkened slightly.
A hand was around his neck. If he had needed air he would have been choking by now. Even so, as the hand tightened his neck muscles clenched. The hand shoved him against a wall. Looking at his assaulter he stared into two dark eyes.
The fist was fast. He had no time to brace himself for the attack. His head snapped to the side, blood poured from a wound at his lip.
His attacker growled, "I knew it was you. I knew it."
Spike found himself dimly aware that no one in the bar had seemed to notice, or care that he was being attacked. Not that this was unheard of; being the kind of bar it was, physical disagreements between patrons were a regular occurrence. No one turned to his aid. For one insane moment he felt like laughing.
Xander dragged the limp vampire out of the bar. He threw Spike against the bars' exterior wall. Reaching into his back pocket, Xander slipped out a sharp stake and placed it against Spike's chest.
"Four years. I've waited four years for this." Xander hissed, pressing the stake. Spike gasped softly in pain, but made no move to defend himself. "How does this feel, Spikey? How does it feel to have no control? To be controlled?"
Spike did nothing. Said nothing. He only stared at the ground, his shoulders slumped in resignation.
Xander paused. He had expected a fight from Spike. He had been expecting it; he had counted on it.
"Look at me!" Xander demanded, pushing the stake harder for emphasis. Spike looked up at him, but just as quickly looked away.
Xander paused, mentally taking a step back. Confusion marred his forehead. Spike's eyes…he did not know what exactly he had been expecting but not the raw pain…not the acceptance. Acceptance!
When Xander didn't move, Spike growled in the back of his throat. "Do it. Do it, dammit." Spike pushed his chest forward, groaning in pain as the stake further penetrated past the thin layer of skin, letting blood flow.
"What the hell…" Xander stepped back, his eyes wide. He dropped his hand holding the stake, the weapon slid from his fingers landing on the ground with a hollow thud. Spike fell to his knees in front of him, his head hanging.
Spike looked up at Xander, pleading with tears running down his face, "God dammit, just fuckin' do it. Kill me."
Xander took another step back shock covering his face, his mouth opening.
Spike felt sudden harsh anger. "Come on, you wanker! You came to kill me, didn't you?!" His voice lowered as quickly as it had risen, "For…for what I did. For what I did to her. Her. Right? Do it. Do it. Do it!"
"Jesus," Xander breathed, "What the hell happened to you?"
Spike didn't hear Xander. All he could hear was the voice in his head, the one that had been with him since Africa, telling him that this, this meeting with Xander, was what they'd been waiting for. Hands clawed at Spike's face, he realized they were his own. He glared up at Xander, "Aren't you man enough? Come on, wanker, you know it's what you want. It's what I deserve. You know it. I've waited. I've waited."
Xander remained mute.
"Do it. You know what I am. What I've done" Spike's throat caught on a sob, "the children I've killed, the mothers, husbands ...and her. And her. What I did to her."
Spike curled up on himself, he hugged his knees while sobs racked his body. Images clouding his mind. Victims, victims, victims, and her. Always her.
It wasn't until much later that he realized Xander had left.
--
Spike didn't see Xander again until a week later.
It was the same setting. The same demon bar. However, this time, instead of assaulting him, Xander sat on a stool next to Spike.
Spike knew he was there, of course. But he said nothing to the human.
Xander was well into his second beer before he said a word to Spike.
"You've stopped bleaching your hair."
"Wha…" Spike's hand strayed to his head, realizing Xander was right. When had he stopped? Africa, the voice reminded him. Ah. Yes. Africa. Spike glanced sideways at Xander, feeling slightly unnerved by the human's observation, "I s'pose."
Several moments passed.
"What are you doing in New York?"
Spike twirled his glass, watching its red liquid swirl around, then answered, "Does it really matter, mate?"
Xander shrugged. "Yeah."
Spike stared into his glass, contemplating, it was several moments before he spoke. "The wolf never asks the rabbit why its there. It just eats it."
When Xander chuckled Spike turned, eyebrow raised.
Xander ignored the vampires' inquisitive stare and ordered another beer.
Spike stared at him curiously. "I never thought you wouldn't kill me on sight if we met again."
Xander took the new bottle and swallowed a sip of his drink, looking suddenly thoughtful, "I wasn't going to kill you, y'know. Though the temptation was there."
Spike narrowed his eyes briefly, studying the human before looking away. "Yeah, I kind of noticed."
Xander watched a couple female Shakra demons with obvious interest for a few moments. "So, what are you doing in New York?"
"I could ask you the same thing."
Xander only smiled, "We thought you were dead," he paused, his lips tilting in a smile, "well, dead-er."
"As good as." Spike muttered, feeling decidedly uncomfortable with the conversation. Xander was so…different. What had happened to the kid that killed big bads first, asked questions later?
Xander turned to face Spike, studying the previously platinum blonde, his expression serious. "Why did you want me to kill you?"
Spike froze. He glanced over at Xander. "Do you really care?"
Xander shrugged, turning back to his own drink, his serious expression turning nonchalant, "Not particularly. Just asking out of curiosity's sake. It's not every day you see a vamp begging to be dusted. Though, it would make the slaying so much easier."
Spike looked to Xander, his eyes imploring, "Then why didn't you?"
Xander looked away, saying nothing.
They sat in silence for another hour before Xander rose, paid for his beer, then left without a backward glance.
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a/n- only with patience will all questions be answered.