Summary:"Spike, are you ok?" He looked back up at Buffy. "Suits you." "Huh?" Buffy's brow crinkled adorably and he smiled before nodding to the kid. "Suits you." He spoke softly again and Buffy knew what he meant...her daughter. A blush rose to her cheeks and she looked down at the child once more so as not to look back at the handsome face that was staring at her funny. S5 SPUFFY T/M
AN:/ Life's not that great at the moment so I'm seeking some validation…I decided to write and will be eating up all your feedback. BtVS is where it began for me, fanfiction that is, all those years ago. I've always read it, never attempted to do my own take on the genius that is Joss Whedon but Spuffy sooths my aching soul and felt it was finally time; time to let what's in my head spill out onto the page. So, here's my first Buffy fic and I'm writing it more than 20 years after the show began but what can I say? It's impossible for me to fall out of love with the Buffyverse. It rooted itself deep within my soul…not that souls are all that big of a deal anyway ;)
Sort of kicks off 5.12, post bye-bye Riley but fuck the timeline, yeah?
Chapter 1
She kicks, punches twice. The vamp swings back and Buffy ducks. Grabbing him by his outdated 70s lapels, she spins Mr. Bumpy-Face around just before throwing him against an elaborate headstone. He came back full force as she approached, punching her in the face. Buffy is flung back from the blow and as she gets her bearings, preparing to attack once more, a flurry of black leather comes flying over the now crumbling plaque; the leather matador grabs the vamp from behind and in moments the target was nothing but dust.
"Spike! Why did you do that?" Spike can't help but grin.
"Not for money, if that's what you're thinking. Your heartfelt gratitude's plenty." Buffy glared at him and immediately the smile was gone from his face. "I expect I'll be getting that any moment." He grumbled sarcastically.
"Gratitude. For getting in my way, you mean?"
'If looks could slay', Spike thought.
"He was mine!" Buffy whined in that precious, preteen way that always made him smile; her brows all screwed up in frustration, that prominent pout making its presences known.
"You feeling antsy, luv? Needin' a good slay after Captain Cardboard buggered off, that it?" Spike's eyebrows wiggled suggestively and his tongue spired up to find its familiar place behind the top row of his teeth.
"I had him. I was regrouping and you…"
"Regrouping? You were about to get regrouped into separate piles, luv. Saved your arse, I did. You needed me."
"I didn't need you. I never needed you, Spike." Buffy turned and began a determined march away from the blonde vamp.
"Oh, I get it!" He made to follow her. "You just don't like who did the rescuin' pet, that's all. Wishin' I was your boyfriend, what's-his-face. Oh wait, he's run off!"
"You wish, more like! I don't need a boyfriend…to rescue me or for any other reason, Spike and I most certainly don't need your sorry assrunning around…"
"Don't need or can't keep?" He interrupted. Buffy stops walking to turn and glare at him. "You keep making notches in the headboard but eventually they get up out of bed and run off, don't they?"
"You're disgusting."
"Oh, rough talk, is it? Maybe that's your problem, maybe you push 'em away. Or is it the other? Maybe you cling too much. Or maybe…maybe your beauty's fading, Slayer." Spike bluffed and the routine bickering went on.
"The stress of slaying's aging you prematurely, 'ey Buffy? Things not as high, not as firm." Spike grinned lecherously and made a gesture with his hands as if trying to hold up a saggy pair of breasts. "The clock's tickin', 'ey Slayer?" Buffy grimaced and tried to walk away, once again.
"You know what, Spike? The more I get to know you, the more I wish I di…did you hear that?"
"Changing the subject now, are we?" Spike rolled his eyes.
"Spike! Sshh." Buffy hushed him into silence; both their ears perked up. "I'm serious, did you hear…" And before Buffy could finish her sentence an agonising cry leapt out from among the darkness.
"Please!"
Slayer and vamp looked towards one another before stalking, with resolution, into the night and seeking out the plea.
Crouched behind a decrepit looking stone balustrade, the unlikely pair looked on to what appeared to be your standard Sunnydale sacrifice.
Entirely out of place, a trashy looking woman, red dress, red strappy shoes; a bunch of leper-looking, hobbit-like creatures and some restrained religious types roped to a post in the ground, all haloed a bonfire in a darkened corner of Restfield Cemetery.
"What do you suppose…" Spike started to whisper before the scarlet woman spoke up.
"Okay, lesser-beings! Let's get this party started." The self-entitled Barbie spoke to the unwilling congregation with an air of unrestrained authority. "Finally." She grumbled to herself.
"Lesser-beings?" Buffy whispered to the male presence beside her in confusion.
Buffy and Spike remained hunched down at the entrance to the plot of land that was accommodating the hellish looking group; the blue light of the full moon shone down harshly on both their faces but the yellow of the flames softened their features in the glare. They watched on attentively as the woman in red snatched a bundle of cloth away from one of the monks.
"Glory, please, no!" The man tried in vain to protest. At this, the woman swung round and backhanded the man with unimaginable force, blood dribbled from his mouth and his head lolled onto the shoulder of his neighbouring brother. The bundle of cloth began to wail out into the night.
"You will not speak my name!" Turning to glare at the child she commanded it to: "Hush, now!" Glory's voice boomed and the child swaddled in cloth wisely ceased to cry any longer. "Good. Now let's proceed…I refuse to wait another measly, mortal month much less another millennia! The ritual needs to harness the power of the full moon or it won't work…stupid lunar calendars."
"A sprog?" Spike hissed. Slayer and vamp looked on as 'Glory', they now understood her to be, approached the burning pyre, she cradled the child in one arm and drew a nasty looking dagger from beneath the hem of her dress with the other.
"Just last week you were gambling with kittens, Spike." Buffy argued.
"Yeah but…come on! A sacrificial newborn, jeez magic has got to pull itself out of the dark ages…"
"I rarely agree with you but on this one…"
"Time to intervene, Slayer?" Spike smiled. "Unless of course, you wantthe babe to become mincemeat…" Buffy was already hurling her body over the boundary fence. "After you, of course…" Spike made time to roll his eyes before following her into the soon to be carnage.
"What you got there?" Buffy made herself known. Glory barely even acknowledged her and raised the knife in her hand as the 'leper-hobbits' began to chant in a forgotten language. "Earth to Glory!" Buffy spoke again but was still ignored. "Hey, Scarlet Ho-hansson!" This got her attention.
"Ok, now I'm upset." Glory turned to glare at the little girl that was insulting her, she seemed to be flanked by a punkish bodyguard of some kind.
"I said, what you got there?" Buffy inquired again.
"And you are?" Glory didn't really care to know.
"I'm Buffy. This is Spike but he's not important." Spike rolled his eyes, yet again. "We suggest you put down the infant and walk away." Glory bellowed a heathenistic cackle.
"Oh, sweetie, those shoes are hideous, that boyfriend of yours, could do better and me, walking away? Not going to happen." She glared. "Now, run along home, Polly Pocket."
The chanting became louder, flames sparked and the moon seemed to swell with unrestrained energy, Glory paid them no further heed. Buffy and Spike looked towards one another, shrugged away the insults and accepted the confrontation before propelling themselves into action.
Buffy punched the woman straight in the gut but it didn't seem to cause a tickle much less any harm.
"Hey!" Glory was now staring daggers at the Slayer but she still clung onto the child and couldn't risk spilling a drop of that precious blood before the time was right and so Glory all but flung her back to one of her chanting minions along with the sacrificial blade before turning her full attention onto Buffy. "Watch the brat! Now as for you, how dare you…" Buffy socked her once again in the face. The blow barely seemed to even registered with the woman. "Big mistake." Glory grabbed Buffy by the arms and threw her backwards, across the plot, knocking Spike down in process.
"What the…" Buffy winced.
"You good, Slayer?" Spike asked as Buffy scrambled up from on top of him and turned to face the woman with an expression of surprise. Buffy nodded.
"That tramp is damn strong." Buffy hissed as she rose up.
"A challenge then?" Spike grinned and Buffy couldn't help but smirk back. "Apocalypse is long overdue, init Slayer? Let's have some fun." And before she could reply, he sprung himself onto the chorus of mumbling minions, fangs cocked and soon to be locked onto the demons' throats. Buffy turned back to face Glory, the shorn grass firmly planted beneath the soles of her heeled boots once again.
The burning fire roared on and the moon still shone brightly above.
"Just to let you know…this whole 'beating ya to death' thing I'm doing? It's incredibly inconvenient and it's valuable time out of life that I won't get back." Glory bitched and held down both the Slayer's arms as she tried to fight back, Buffy cried out in pain. In an attempt to break free, Buffy threw her head back only to slam it into Glory's forehead with everything she had. Glory winced and the Slayer almost knocked herself out in the process.
"That tickled. So, little girl's got super powers. That's so cool. Can you fly?" Glory smiled manically before flinging Buffy's tiring body, like a ragdoll, across a number of graves and into the entrance steps of a mausoleum.
"Slayer!" Spike yelled as he snapped the neck of another of Glory's men and ran towards her, duster-clad arm outstretched, to pull her to her shaking feet. By now, the chanting had stopped and as a result, the moon had lost its special lustre as Spike had made his snarling way through most of the faithful flock. The ground was lain with bodies but two trollish demons remained: one, wart-ridden and stout, quivered pathetically behind a headstone still clinging to the child; the other, leaner but equally scabby, glared out at the disastrous ritual site with blackened eyes, it was no longer to host a celebratory moment for his mistress.
"We might have to call this one, Buff." Spike looked at the worn-out Slayer beside him and heeded caution. "You've only been going at her a couple minutes and she's beating you down good 'n' proper."
"There's a child involved, Spike!" Buffy grappled with the very real possibility of losing this fight. Glory, whoever she was, was just too powerful.
At that moment, a gang of drunken vamps stumbled into said section of the cemetery. Their ruckus laughter began to fade as, even awash with the haze of booze, the staggering vamps could sense a potential fight around the corner.
"Mistress!" The taller, lean minion yelled in fear, pointing to the full moon above. Glory stared at the dead all around her feet, the ritual prevented for yet another month. How long had it taken her to procure the Key in the first place?
"NO!" Glory screeched once she realised what that meant. "You little whore!" She turned an accusing finger towards Buffy with insult before throwing, what was the equivalent of, a spoilt hellgod's temper tantrum and made quick work of crushing every gravestone in the immediate area.
Then, everything seemed to happen at once.
"Spike, get the kid." Buffy told the blonde man beside her who nodded before zeroing in on the shaken demon that still enfolded the child amongst his brown and dirtied robes.
"Hey guys!" Buffy smirked at the approaching horde of undead drunks as they glared back at her. "D'you hear? There's a new slayer in town. Thinks she's hot shit." Buffy smirked a nodded over to Glory. One glance at the slender woman who seemed to be crushing granite with her bare, manicured hands and the inebriated vamps didn't even question her immortal stench. The next thing you know they swarmed towards her.
Buffy ran to untie the three bloodied and beaten monks. Spike had somehow scrambled the child away from the other minion who now lay unconscious beside his friend. Vampires seemed to fly everywhere like bats, true to their name, as Glory tossed them aside like nothing, still, more kept approaching.
"Think it's time to leave, Slayer." Spike said as he held the small child to his chest.
"Couldn't agree more." Buffy winced as she helped the most injured of the men to his feet and swung his arm around her shoulder before all of them stumbled away into the protective darkness.
The preoccupied Glory snarled after them.
"I'll be seeing you within the month, blondie…blondies!" Glory yelled as she ripped the head off a female vamp in fishnets. The retreating group did not look back.
"I think we're ok." Buffy huffed as she settled the man she was helping to the ground on the other side of the burial grounds. "No one's following us."
"Bitch needs an attitude readjustment." Spike grumbled, wiping a trickle of demon blood away from his lips and spitting at the ground to lessen the wretched taste in his mouth.
"This night must be special," Buffy laughed. "because, once again, I'm inclined to agree with you." Spike began to look smug but their joint attention was soon drawn to the men they had just recently rescued.
"Thank you." The man on the floor spoke quietly. His two brothers were now crouched either side of him, one applying pressure to a nasty looking gash across his chest. "You have to…the Key. You must protect the Key."
"Come again, mate?" Spike questioned and as he shifted his weight the once wailing bundle in his arms began to settle, a delicate yawn escaping her little pink lips.
"Many more will die if you don't keep it safe." The light was fading from his eyes.
"How? What is it?" Buffy demanded. The man gasped but couldn't seem to find his words so the man to his right spoke for him.
"The Key is energy. It's a portal. It opens the door…"
The dying monk seemed to regain his breath and he was able to continue, Buffy and Spike listened on.
"For centuries it had no form. My brethren, its only keepers. Then the abomination found us. We could no longer protect it. We had to hide the Key, gave it form, moulded it flesh…made it human…made from your essence. We were to send it to you…to the Slayer." Buffy and Spike stared at him in shock and then down at the child in his arms as realisation sunk in. "She is the Key." His eyes began to flutter and his face was a troubling shade of white.
"Brother? Silas!" One of the men beside him clasped his hand in a futile effort to draw him back to consciousness but in seconds, the uneven rise and fall of his chest had ceased and the man lay still on the ground. Tears escaped the eyes of the men beside his lifeless body and Buffy was struggling to hold back her own.
"My essence?" Buffy daren't speak any louder than a whisper.
Through a sorrowful gasp of air, the man clinging to the lifeless hand of his brother and friend, looked up at the stunned pair and replied. "She's yours."
"We knew the Slayer would protect." The other man now spoke.
"Mine?" Buffy gasped and looked up worryingly at the child and then at Spike who seemed just as dazed as she. "I didn't ask for this! I don't even know…what is she?"
"Human…now human. And helpless. Please…she's an innocent in all this. She needs you."
"She's not my daughter."
"Buffy…" Spike began to interject as he came to understand the situation he found himself in.
"She won't know that." The monk continued. "You cannot abandon. Do not allow our brother's death to have been in vain, please. She needs you."
They stood stunned, Buffy's world had once again turned upside down.