Summary: What if it had been Spike who had a soul thrust upon him? How would things have gone differently had he been the talk, dark, and handsome of Buffy's stay in Sunnydale? Starts from S1, E1 and moves onward.
A/N: I do realize this has been overdone but I just had to try my hand at this "what-if" scenario. Here's to hoping I make it at least mildly entertaining.
Romania, 1898
"Dancing, dancing around the fire, the little outcasts try to burn themselves a living but they didn't know the darkness would come and snuff it out."
Drusilla grinned and bent her head back down to suck the rest of the blood out of the woman she was holding. She let the body fall to the ground as she whipped her head back, wiping leftover rivulets of crimson off her chin.
"I can almost taste the mysticism." She laughed.
"Mysticism? That explains the spiciness. Care to pass the brunette, love?" Spike tossed his small boy aside and grabbed the shivering, catatonic teenager handed to him by Drusilla. He bit into her neck deeply, savoring the wonderful taste. Blood never tasted better than after a long bout of violence.
"My Spike, you look so handsome with a neck in your teeth." Drusilla giggled and brushed her hair back as she slowly approached him. She reached out a hand and caressed his hair.
Spike closed his eyes in pleasure and with a snarl he let the girl fall and grabbed Drusilla by the head and kissed her fiercely. Drusilla sucked the blood off his lips as she gripped Spike tighter. Their fangs bit each others' lips drawing their own blood causing it to mix with their saliva. Spike pulled Drusilla back and smiled happily at her.
"As much as all this death has got me worked up, Dru, we should leave before the whole rest of the tribe is upon us. Besides, I know a nice little lake we can stop by before we meet up with the others." He traced a finger down Drusilla's neck and across her chest.
Drusilla sighed. "The fruit is getting ripe, my Spike, you better not let it rot."
"Oh it won't be long, pet." Spike wrapped his arm around Drusilla's shoulders as they started to leave the village. Overall the excursion had been an entertaining one. It was refreshing to just have Drusilla and himself alone, away from the constant pestilence that Angelus had made himself of late. No doubt he and Darla were torturing some family and having a merry little party—a nauseating scene to be sure. In the time it probably took them to kill a single family Spike had slaughtered a whole village. They just didn't see death the same way. The thrill of battle, of feeling bones crushed beneath the hands, that was what life was all about; that and passionate love. Spike nibbled Drusilla's ear as they swept off into the night. He hoped that the rest of the tribe would start to track them down; a good chase would make the trip back to Bucharest much more interesting.
It was morning of the following day before Spike found his wish come to fruition. The cave he and Drusilla were staying was invaded by a band of gypsies. The fight lasted all of ten minutes but Spike couldn't argue with delivered breakfast.
"What do you think, Dru?" Spike picked his teeth. "More or less fun than the Italians?"
"I vestiti erano belli." Drusilla picked up a scarf from one of the limp bodies. "But these do have such lovely fabrics." She wrapped it around her neck and did a twirl. "What do you think? Does it bring out my essence?"
"Well I don't know about your essence, love, but it brings out my lust." Spike snaked his arm around Drusilla's waist and brought her down on top of him. "Forget the lake, I don't think I can wait that long." He brought his lips to hers before she shrieked and jumped back. Spike started and sat up. "What's wrong, Dru?"
"The fire-dancers, they bring their flame here. They've found a light to snuff out the encroaching darkness." Tears streaked down Drusilla's face as she shrunk into the wall.
"What do you mean? More gypsies? We can take them, Dru." Spike offered an arm out to stand her up. She grabbed it and hugged Spike close.
"We must run, my Spike! We must flee the light!"
"It's daylight, love. We can't. Now what is it that's so horrible?"
Drusilla screamed as she pointed at the mouth of the cave. "It's coming!"
A glow shown through the darkness of the tunnel corridor. It steadily got closer as a voice could be heard chanting.
"Nici mort, nici de-al fiintei, te invoc, spirit altrecerii. Reda trupului ce separa omul de animal!"
The words held power. Spike could feel some force constraining him. He tried to move but he was out of energy. Three men entered the room, two with crossbows the other holding a glowing orb. The orb holder stretched it out.
"Asa sa fie!"
"No!" Drusilla launched herself at the gypsy. Two arrows shot through the air. Drusilla snarled and staggered as one stuck her in the shoulder and the other grazed her side.
"Utrespur aceastui!" The orb grew brighter as tendrils of magic wrapped around it. Spike yelled as a he felt something try to crawl into him. It was warm and heavy and every inch of him was repulsed by it. His body screamed a denial as his core was seared. Then it stopped. The pain was replaced by a great emptiness as he lay panting on the ground.
"It will come back to you soon. The evil you have done to my tribe and my family. It wasn't enough to take my wife and daughters from me, was it? No, you had to ruin my heritage! May the curse haunt you for eternity!"
Drusilla screamed and lurched at the man again. He backed away as the other two men pulled out garlic and brandished it in front of them. Drusilla stopped short and growled at them as they slowly retreated back out of the caves. She ran to Spike and kneeled down in front of him.
"What have they done to you, my love?"
"I… I…" Spike tried to speak but his words got caught in his throat as the emptiness inside him turned into a blazing inferno. Memories flitted across his mind's eye as tears began to form in his eyes.
Sunnydale, 1996
It was supposed to be a normal night, a supernatural-free, fancy-free, normal night. She would go to this club, enjoy herself, and forget that vampires ever existed. Buffy marched down the dark sidewalk with an uneasy confidence. Despite her internal efforts, something didn't quite feel right. The town carried something sinister about it, as if it was harboring some evil. Buffy shook her head. No, those thoughts were negative and weren't going to help her enjoy herself. She hadn't spotted a vampire yet much less anything unsavory. Tonight was going to be entirely fine.
A quiet, errant footstep sounded behind her. Buffy strained her ears as she listened to the footsteps continue to trail her despite the turns she was taking. This town was not cooperating with her. Buffy darted into a side-alley listening as her stalker approached from behind her. She quickly grabbed an overhead bar and lifted her body straight on top of it. She slowed her breathing as she watched below her.
A shadowy figure swaggered into the alley. "Bugger! How did she do that?"
A match lit up her stalker's face as he prepared a cigarette. At least he was a handsome stalker, though that didn't just make everything better. Plus he was obviously English and that carried all sorts of implications. Buffy dropped lightly onto the ground.
"I don't know about Britain but here in America men following schoolgirls are frowned upon."
The man turned around, exhaling smoke. He looked up and back down at her and smiled. "Now don't be so harsh, Slayer, the cavalry's here." The man spread out his arms in a triumphant gesture.
Buffy scowled. "How do you know who I am?"
"Well, you kill vampires don't you? I dunno many other girls in high school who can do that, but if you're not then I guess I should just mosey on then. I just won't mention the important information I'm supposed to give you." The man started to walk out of the alley.
"Wait." Buffy grabbed his arm. "What information?"
"Vampires. Lot of 'em. Run by a nasty piece work. Calls himself the Master."
"The Master?"
"Yeah, he's an old vampire, he's starting the Harvest. Some major bad prophecy. Though the bottom line is, he's a vampire, you're the Slayer, get to work."
"But, but I don't want this!" Buffy started pacing. "I got kicked out of my last school because of this stupid destiny I have. I mean, what if I don't want this destiny? But do they allow refunds? No, no I have to leave my stupid social life behind and get with the staking!"
"Bit early to be having a mid-life crisis, now isn't it? No ignoring your destiny, Slayer. I learned that myself." The man grimaced and took a drag from his cigarette. "Now, a few vamps were making their way to the Bronze last I checked. Be a pity if the destined girl decided to hit the dance floor and ignore the men with fangs, wouldn't it?"
Buffy sighed. Despite her temptation to plug her ears and go "lalala" she knew she couldn't ignore the danger. "Alright, I'll kill the vampires. This town better be grateful I wasn't destined to be a chef." Buffy raised her eyebrows at this mysterious man. "But first, mind telling me who you are and how you know I'm the Slayer?"
"Word gets around. The name's Spike."
Buffy stared. "Spike? You're name's Spike? Were your parents expecting a dog?"
"Hey now, Slayer, I chose that name, and don't go looking a gift horse in the mouth. I'm here to help you."
"Helping here meaning stalking me and acting cryptic?"
Spike reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a wooden stake. "And I'm also bloody well handy in a fight. Time's a wasting, Slayer."
Buffy paused to consider this. She hardly knew if she could trust this man but he seemed to know a lot and certainly looked tough enough to fight beside her. She sighed. "Fine, follow me."
A/N: Hopefully that wasn't too short. I needed a good dramatic start. More to come soon. Constructive, sarcastic, and even acerbic reviews welcome.