TITLE: Tenacious of Life part 2

AUTHOR: Erykah Miszti

EMAIL: erykah@sweet-poison.net

WEBSITE: http://www.sweet-poison.net/

SUMMARY: A bit of a writing experiment. A 'what if' kind of a tale concerning Spike. What if what we know is true but only the smallest part of the story?

SPOILERS: Up to Season five.. sort of Alternative universe and yet somehow not. *frown*

RATING: R

DISCLAIMER: Everything belongs to Joss. I just get bored sometimes and need to play with other people's toys.

~~~~~

The answers always are waiting there
You give me feelings that I used to get
And remember things that I had forgotten
Long ago

'Darkside Lightside' by Ash

~~~~~

Sunnydale, 2001

Quentin Travers walked warily into the crypt. It appeared to be empty but appearances were often deceptive. His old eyes took a moment to adjust to the darkness. When they did he was unsurprised to see the coldness of the place broken up by small touches of the modern world. A half smile crossed his face.

"I was wondering when you'd get here." A voice said from out of the shadows behind him.

Quentin turned to see Spike standing between him and the door brandishing a large knife.

"I had a visit from your goons this afternoon." Spike continued. "Still don't know the dirty little secret, do they?"

"Spike.." Quentin began.

"Whatever you're pulling on the Slayer.. it's not going to work." Spike cut in. "She's smarter than you."

Quentin laughed.

"Don't you want to know why I'm here?" He asked.

Spike merely inclined his head and watched Quentin steadily. A nasty smile crossed Quentin's face and he gestured towards the knife.

"Is that meant to scare me? I know you can't hurt me anymore."

"If that's true.." Spike smirked. "..then why are you so afraid…?"

"We can remove your.. little problem." Quentin interjected a little too quickly. He WAS afraid but he thought he'd been good at not showing it. Can't hide fear from a vampire though. He should have remembered that.

"Oh?" Spike inquired.

"Get rid of the chip.. what do you say?"

"And the price..?" Spike asked coldly. "Nothing the Council offers is ever without a price."

Quentin swallowed heavily.

"Simple." He replied. "You just do what you were supposed to do… what you were sent here to do in the first place.. kill the Slayer."

#####

London, 1880

Michael Travers paced up and down the length of the room. It wasn't a very big room, so he covered it in a few strides and started again. On the floor near him knelt a young woman in a black dress which exposed more shoulder flesh than he was used to seeing. It was very distracting.

"Miss Melody.." He demanded. "Are you ready yet?"

The woman ignored him and kept on arranging the objects on the floor in front of her.

"Melody?" He demanded again.

"Will you please just shut up, Michael!" She snapped. "This is a complex and difficult spell and I am trying to concentrate!"

Michael duly shut up and went back to pacing.

Melody began burning herbs and started talking in a tone too low for him to understand the words. A pall of mist began to fall over the room. Michael stilled and watched her as she picked up the Orb of Thesula from where it lay before her. She seemed mesmerized by it but as she stared into it's depths a choking sob escaped her lips, which then turned into an all out choke. Michael realised that something was going wrong and rushed to her side but he was pushed back by a force that glowed green as he touched it. Beyond the barrier Melody continued to choke, green slime and blood pouring from her mouth now. She looked up at him and her eyes glowed a fierce red. A terrible grinding sound filled the room, grating on Michael's teeth and making his ears pop.

"No." A voice that wasn't hers came from out of her mouth. "This will not be!"

Melody's hand, no longer under her control, threw the Orb so that is hit the wall and smashed, raining shards down upon the two occupants of the room.

"Not ever!" Said the voice, then Melody collapsed and the room was silent and still.

Michael now managed to get to the stricken girl, she started crying softly with occasional harsh coughing.

"I was blocked." She said when she was able to speak. "Something wouldn't let me perform the spell."

"You can't give him his soul back..?" Michael asked in horror and she shook her head sadly. "But.." He broke off. "What stopped you..?"

"I don't know." She replied. "But it was powerful.." She frowned. "and strange. Focused from somewhere but.. "

Melody turned terrified eyes to his. He'd never seen the witch afraid before now.

"Your brother is lost to us."

#####

New York, 1977

"Quentin… long time, no leaving permanent scars…" Spike called out cheerfully.

"Spike." Quentin Travers acknowledged.

Spike was looking just a little bit different to the last time Quentin had seen him. The bleached hair, standing on end, the torn jeans and the safety pins. He'd learnt that you could always count on Spike to be up on the latest fashions.. or anti-fashions. First time he'd seen him it had been all motorcycles and leather. Very James Dean. Quentin had, of course, mostly worn tweed.

"Let me guess… you've got a job for me!" Spike sneered and it really suited the new look. "You never just turn up for coffee and a family chit chat… it upsets me, you know.. right down deep inside."

Quentin said nothing.. it was usually safer that way. Spike wasn't joking about the permanent scars. He had some on his back to prove it from their last meeting. It was often painful meeting his undead relation but it did tend to get the job done.

"So, who do you want me to kill this time..?" Spike sat on the countertop, toying with the pans boiling on the stove.

They had arranged to meet in the kitchens of Quentin's hotel, which had seemed like a good idea at the time.. he'd be in a place of his own choosing.. but, watching Spike watching the boiling liquid, he was beginning to think he'd made a mistake.

"The Slayer." Quentin said warily.

Spike's sneer was pure evil.

"What she do?" He asked, tilting his head and looking like he was loving this. He had power over him and Quentin knew it. "Did she question your 'stake first and ask questions later' policy..? Live long enough to wonder about the black and the white world you paint for the dumb little bitches..?" He picked up a spoon and stirred one of the pans.

Quentin glanced around the kitchen.. where were the staff? They'd been gone an awfully long time now.

"Well then..?" Spike tried to hurry him up. He jumped off the countertop and crossed menacingly towards Quentin. "What did she do to get her a death sentence from her own protectors? Huh?"

"Just kill her." Quentin snapped. "It doesn't matter why. I wont explain myself to you!"

"Oooo.. grow some balls there did you, Quentin..? Glad I've survived long enough to see that! I thought that family trait had died with me."

"I'm sorry I'm not Michael. I'm sorry he's not here for you to torture." Quentin stated without meaning to, horrifying himself.

Spike's face when from cheerfully sneering to cold and blank, a hand shot out and closed around Quentin's throat tightening painfully as Spike lifted him off the ground.

"Your grandfather.." Spike began slowly. "..wasn't the topic of conversation here." The fingers tightened further until finally Spike relented and let him fall to the floor.

There was an expression of total disgust on Spike's face now.

"Just tell me where this damned Slayer is..?" He demanded.

#####

TBC…..