Chapter 1 – The Unlikely Watcher
Disclaimer: Spike and Dawn and all the names mentioned from BTVS are from..BTVS. ^^; Doyle is from Angel (YES! Doyle is back! ROFL), and both shows and all them characters are owned by Joss, who is a god and such. ^^ I only own good ol' Katrina—yep.
A/N: Insanity is fun. This story is like the friend to insanity. ^^; You guys are welcome to comment—flames, I'm sure, but hey—it's all good! Annddd..before you go all 'Doyle can't come back!' to me, it's my story and if I want him alive he's alive so HAH! ROFL. Don't worry, I'll explain why he comes back, it's not one of those 'he just appeared' sort of things. ^^;
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It was one of those nights.
Silent, quiet, almost eerily still. It was those sort of nights Spike hated the most, for the silence made him start thinking and the thoughts were never good. It went though his head all the time, his past few years of living. He had gone from having a family—albeit an odd one—to having nothing at all. He was back where he started, alone and hardened to feelings.
Well, he told himself he was 'hardened to feelings' again. In truth he wasn't, and on more then one occasion he was caught crying in some dark alley over his lost loves—first was Buffy and her amazing leap to save the world, then Dawn—who, just like him, fell to a vampire's charms. Both deaths, even though Buffy's was a good twenty years ago and Dawn's was a short thirteen, sat in his head and ate him away to the point where he had suicidal thoughts all the time, more and more as the days progressed and the silence mocked him.
He had left after Dawn died—well, when she became a vampire anyway and skipped town before he could say a thing about it—roamed a while. He always thought that he would be free once his duties to protect Dawn ended, but as he wandered from place to place, it was slowly becoming obvious that it was the opposite. He was a prisoner of his own pain, his guilt. He had failed two people that he loved more then anyone could imagine, and it tortured him more then light or fire ever could.
What it did was break his unbeating heart.
So he came back, because he had no where else to go—he was a broken man, unable to get away from his past, and a pathetic vampire, not even able to drink blood to this day. All the cards were stacked against him, and he had no problem moping around with the 'I hate life' attitude, and took to not talking to anyone but Buffy's gravestone. It was like a sick ritual—every night he would sit by her grave and talk, hoping upon hope that she would hear him wherever she was. He always apologized to her for not saving her, and for failing her even more with Dawn, and then went on to tell her how much he still loved her, even after all of these years. When he had told her that one time that she was all he thought about, all he ever wanted—he wasn't lying, and twenty years later it still proved true.
Sometimes he wondered when it all happened—when he became even more pathetic then Angel, and then he realized he was always that way. Angel was bad with his goody-goody soul and his 'save the world' thought pattern, but Spike—Spike had no soul, and yet he had become love-lorn and hurt and more or less pathetic. If Buffy was alive, he was sure she would smack him over the head and tell him to get over it, but she wasn't alive, and he continued to act like a zombie.
It was one of those nights, as stated before, that Spike was down and depressed. The drinks he had didn't even numb the pain anymore, but gave him a light buzz and then a headache that made it all the worse. It was that night, however, things were going to change for him.
He was walking down the street, the usual scowl splaying across his features. He never smiled anymore, mostly because he never had anything to smile about. Life was emptier then ever for him. At least back in the day when he was mean he had Dru—now he had no one. He was by himself.
"Hey." Spike looked up at the voice, his anger suddenly rising. How dare someone try to talk to him. There was no one there. "Over here." Spike turned his head towards a nearby alleyway. Slowly a man walked out of it, his eyes peering at Spike unblinkingly.
"Sorry, mate, I dun wanna buy nothing." He smirked coldly. The man looked more or less like a salesperson.
"Spike, correct?" he asked, raising a brow.
"Depends on who's askin' fer him." He flicked his cigarette away after taking one last drag from it.
"We've been looking for you for a long time." The man continued, and Spike quickly got defensive.
"You're not one of them Initiative chaps are you?" he glanced at him warily. The man shook his head.
"No, not at all." He came out even more from the shadows. "I have a message for you."
"Well, spit it out then." He huffed. "Don't have all day, you know." He glanced about. "Or night, as it seems."
"Your help is needed." The man stated simply. "We have been watching you from the beginning, you know." Spike watched as the man got closer. "Saw your deeds, good and bad. You disappeared for a while, too."
"Felt like skipping town." He shrugged.
"We feel you might be the only one able to do this task." He said, his voice growing more serious.
"Task? Ahh, if that's the case, count me out. I don't do nothin' for anybody anymore." He huffed.
"We need a watcher for the newest Slayer. Faith has died, and she was called, but no one seems to be able to control her. She refuses to listen to anything they tell her to do. She's a tough case, Spike, but we need her. We have been worried for some time now about a potential threat coming around that only someone like her could fight." The man looked at Spike squarely. "You have shown your faithfulness with Buffy."
"Yeah, and you saw where that got her." He glared at the man. "Sorry, mate, but I don't need another death to haunt me."
"So what, you're going to just walk away?" the man asked, exasperated.
"That's the basic idea, yeah." He smirked.
"If you leave she's going to die. She needs a watcher that will make her think, Spike. With you she has a chance." The man called to him. "So stop being such a damn idiot about this."
He stopped short at these words, anger boiling up inside of him. He turned around, twitching, trying to control himself. "Call me an idiot again and I won't care about the headache I'll get breaking your neck." He growled. The man backed up, but not by much.
"You were chosen, Spike. Of all the people, you were chosen. I know it's been a hard few years, and I know you blame yourself for what happened but—if you feel you need to make it up to them, here's your chance. This girl needs you." He explained. "You can make a difference instead of living your life being slowly choked by your past."
Spike considered this.
"But why me?" he asked. "Aren't you blokes worried I might snap?"
"Well, after Dawn—left, they thought that was what was to happen. Thought you might be a problem again—but you haven't. You're just going around feeling sorry for yourself. So you seemed like a good enough person to have." He nodded. "So, what do you say?"
"So you want me to be a watcher to a vampire slayer." He repeated, thinking about it.
"I really would say stranger things have happened but I don't actually remember ever hearing the council letting a vampire being a watcher to a Slayer." He smiled apologetically. "Sorry."
Spike finally spoke after a minute's pause. "I know I'm going to regret this but fine. I'll give it a try." He glared at the man. "Where is this tough scary girl?"
"Follow me." He motioned to Spike, who sighed, shrugged, and followed.
"So what's so bad about this girl that she's getting' rid of watchers left and right?" he asked, curious.
"The first one she broke his arm and almost fed him to a monster." The man explained. "Second one she kept making fun of him until he cried. And the third—well, let's forget that one."
"Well, she has spunk." Spike nodded. "Sounds like she'll be a fun one."
"She's right up your alley." The man rolled his eyes. He smirked at this.
"What's your name anyway, mate?" he raised a brow at the man.
"Doyle." He responded quietly. "Just call me that."
"Doyle, eh? You know, I knew a bloke like that a while back. Friends with Angel, the big poof—" He explained. "You don't look like 'em though."
"Small world." He replied uneasily.
"You're not human, are you?" Spike asked. Doyle shook his head.
"Full demon, actually."
Spike didn't notice the pained look he had on his face from the moment the name 'Angel' was mentioned. "You're full demon and you're working for that damn council?"
"For now." He nodded. "I have a debt to pay to a few of those upper power groups."
"Debt, huh?" he questioned, interested. Doyle just nodded.
"Yeah, but it's a long story." He shook his head. He motioned suddenly to a dark alley. "Here we go. She's on the streets now, actually, she's always been. I'd be careful, she might bite your hand off."
"Hey, there's no one badder then me." Spike smirked proudly.
"Right." He replied, a deadpan look on his face. "Well, that's over with. I'm off. Good luck with the girl." He paused. "We'll meet again."
Spike watched him leave and couldn't shake the feeling he knew him from somewhere. He decided to think about it later as he turned to look down the alleyway. It was pitch black, so dark that even Spike couldn't see well into it. He took a breath. This was insane. What had he gotten himself into? He was perfectly happy being—not at all happy. He sighed loudly.
He stepped into the alleyway, all his senses quickly activated as he went into an even darker area. His eyes saw the outlines of trash bags, trashcans, and boxes, he smelled the stench of trash and various alleyway animals, and of course he heard what he always heard—complete silence, besides the sound of the light scraping of animal feet. He felt the sudden need for blood, but he quickly shook it off. It wasn't the time.
He hoped all his years of watching Giles being a git was enough experience for him. "So that's why I was stuck with him." He mumbled, amused. Then he swore to himself if he ever got –that- bad he'd tell the girl to stake him herself.
"I know you're there." He started, turning his head toward the voice. He saw a faint outline of someone sitting. "You're not very good on sneaking up on people."
"Who says I'm sneaking up on someone?" he asked, a brow raised toward her. She stood up, slowly, and from what he could tell she was staring at him curiously.
"I know you're a vampire." She said, walking closer to him. "So we can cut the 'Wanna have some fun little girl' act."
"All ready skilled I see." He regarded her the best he could in the dark. "Sorry to disappoint you, love, but I'm not that kind of vampire." He smiled wickedly. "So you can drop the stake, you're about to take out."
She stared at him, confused. "Who are you?" Her voice had a cautious air to it.
"One of them traveling blokes." He paused. "So, you like fighting all ready, huh?"
She continued to grip the stake. "Maybe I do." She huffed. "I should kill you right now."
"Then why don't you?" he challenged.
"I don't feel the animosity generating from you like vampires usually do. I almost couldn't tell." She shook her head. "But that doesn't matter. Vampires are bad."
He caught the stake she tried to put through him. She let out a surprised cry as he held her wrist easily. She tried to kick him but he jumped back. "Don't wanna hurt you, love—"
"You sure picked the wrong alley to walk in, then." And she caught him in the face with a kick. He staggered back, holding his jaw.
"Stubborn girl, aren't you?" he asked, dodging another blow. She caught her arm mid-swing. "Why don't we talk like two civilized people, eh?"
She ripped her arm away from him. "Last time I checked, vampires never went under the civilized category."
"Tch, details." She suddenly surprised him with a punch to his face.
He instinctively punched her back, and fell to the ground, screaming in pain as his brain got zapped. She pushed him over, pinning him to the ground. He was still a bit woozy from the sudden assault on his head. He felt her touch the stake to just the right part. "Not that I care, but what's wrong with you?"
"I can't hit the good ones." He explained, twitching slightly, still pinned under her. "And even if I could I don't want to hit you. That was an accident. I'm your watcher, you bloody git."
"My watcher?" she asked, then smirked. "Oh, you're just giving yourself strike upon strike, buddy."
"H-hey! I'm not like all them other ones. They're a bunch of washed up old bags." He winced as the stake was pressured a little deeper.
"Right, compared to the most likely 200 plus years of life you have under your belt?" she rolled her eyes.
"That's actually pretty young as vampires go thank you very much." Spike winced. "Listen, I can't hurt you, and I don't want too anyway. And I can make you ten times more skilled then you are by yourself. I'm not looking to control you like those other ones. That's really not my style."
She continued to pin him to the ground, and from the expression he could see through the dark it seemed she was considering this. Finally, she sighed loudly. "I'm going to regret this." She leaned in real close to him. "And if you're kidding around with me, don't think I won't dust you like that." She snapped her fingers.
She got off him, allowing him to stand.
TBC….