Title: An Officer and a Gentleman (Prologue/?) v.1.2
Author: UnholyChurch
Disclaimer: Spike and Dru belong to Joss, ME and the whole band at UPN The other characters however are of my own creation.
Summary: 1943 Central Europe. A story about Spike and Dru in war torn France.
Pairings: Spike/Dru, there will be some abstract Buffy Xander later
Rating: R
Note: This is intended to be the first in a series of fics that are designed to build a history behind the Vampire known as William the Bloody.
Who was Spike before he came to Sunnydale? What did he do?
Note: Something that bothers me so I'm clearing it up. Vampires can breath they just don't have to. This is why Spike can smoke. Their lungs function but the oxygen isn't required by the body.
Historical Note: for those of you who know history better than I please disregard any inaccuracies that I have overlooked. It tried to research a little but didn't have time to be completely thorough.
The low rumble of wheels rattling over the steel tracks echoed dully through the nearly empty luxury railroad car. Every object in the car dripped with opulence and extravagance, from the ornate mahogany furniture covered with satin cushions to the plush red wall-to-wall carpeting and the finely crafted works of art that hung on every wall. There was a well- stocked wet bar in one corner filled with the finest spirits money could buy. A detailed map of western France hid the felt-covered gaming table. Spike leaned back in one of the plush armchairs that surrounded the room. His velvet-trimmed coat lay across the back of the chair. Black against red. Red against black. Like another work of art. In one hand he held a half empty tumbler of brandy, the cubes of ice very nearly melted. His feet were up, and rested on an ottoman decorated as richly as the rest of the furniture. The reflection from the gas lamps shone in the polish of his black riding boots. Silently he stared across the room, his steely- blue eyes fixed on the world passing by outside the window. Moving the lit cigarette in his hand to his mouth he took another long pull at the harsh smoke.
As he watched solemnly, his mind drifted to his own recent history. Some 20 years ago he and Dru had come to central Europe to enjoy the wonderful chaos that abounded in the aftermath of the Great War. Times had been good. A missing person here and there was commonplace and for a vampire it was pure paradise. Together they had gained control of a small estate in the Hungarian countryside from its rather carefree and careless owners. It was near enough to Budapest that they never had to travel far for a meal. They lived through the 20s as though they were king and queen of their own tiny kingdom.
Governments rose and fell. In the beginning, Russian influence was strong on the weak Hungarian leadership but communism and bolshevism themselves were still young and disorganized and never really a bother to two creatures of the night. Time passed and the world began to change. A new power was gaining strength in the heart of Europe. Spike had watched with fascination as one Adolf Hitler and his Third Reich drew strength from the discontentment that plagued European nations still struggling with reconstruction and insurmountable war debts. The power they now wielded had become the mightiest force Europe had seen since the days of Napoleon or possibly even Alexander the Great. Finally the Germans had decided to unsheathe the mighty sword they had been sharpening and hardening for nearly a decade for battle. With several massive slashes they had defeated nearly the entire European continent. Only a few holdouts in distant Russia and Spike's home island across the English Channel kept the Nazis from absolute victory.
The war was ripping the countryside apart. Reports of bombings across France and Germany filled the newspapers daily. Spike's blood would boil with excitement as he read the reports of violence and destruction. Finally he could sit idle no longer. He needed to be near the action. So one dead conductor and a few missing passengers later, he and Dru were on a train bound for the occupied city of Paris, France.
Initially, Spike didn't know what he was going to do upon arrival. He had nowhere to go but that really didn't bother him. He knew something would turn up. And sitting here now he had just realized what that something was. This richly decorated car did not belong to him. He was merely a guest invited in for a drink by an unwary soul. But he decided that this lifestyle was indeed what he wanted. And he had decided how to get it.
Spike tossed back the rest of his drink and glanced to the floor. At his feet lay the body of his unsuspecting host. A young soldier, a lieutenant, probably only 22, he was dressed in the black uniform of the German SS. Around his sleeve was the red armband emblazoned with the black swastika that associated him with the Nazi party, an organization that had become of extreme interest to Spike. At the boy's neck was a trickle of dried blood that had run down onto the epaulettes pinned to his black collar. Now bathed in blood were the silver S's shaped like lightning bolts that distinguished this soldier as a member of the Schutzstaffel or Protection Squad. Spike smiled to himself at the symbolism of this small detail. Within small circles of people in Europe the SS had become infamous for their cruelty and bloodshed, especially when it came to the treatment of the "non-Aryan" races. The occupying Nazis had formed a tight grip on the European press however, and none of these stories made it into the papers. Spike had connections within these circles and some of the stories shocked even him. He had trouble believing that mere humans were capable of such acts of atrocity and cruelty.
A clamor from the opposite end of the car broke Spike out of his thoughts. He couldn't see to the rear of the car because there was a division for sleeping quarters and the hallway was on the opposite side from where he was sitting. But he could hear what sounded to be struggling and muffled cries of pain and fear. He heard a door open and then slam shut again to the sleeping quarters in this car. Spike sucked the last drag out of his cigarette as he rose from his seat. Crushing the butt out in the ashtray, he turned back as the door nearer to him opened and let in the sounds of the outside world rushing by. Through the door entered Drusilla dressed in one of her loveliest emerald gowns, a smile filled with perverse joy on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Spike gave her a knowing look. Being together for so long meant that words were rarely needed. She knew instantly what he wanted and she was overjoyed by what it meant. She jumped up and down slightly clapping her gloved hands together gently like a little child who'd been told they get to go to the Candy Shoppe.
On each side of the door Dru had entered were two other soldiers lying on the floor. One was propped up against the wall his eyes still open staring into nothingness. Neither had puncture wounds on their necks but their heads were both twisted at horrific angles. Dru stepped over the legs of the first soldier and as she passed she allowed her fingers to glide over the head and down the face of the other as she pushed his eyelids closed.
Putting a gloved finger to her lips she whispered "Shhh time for sleeping now. Daddy doesn't want you to be awake." Coming in she stopped to look down at the lieutenant before continuing on to Spike, nuzzling the side of his neck, her one hand rested on Spike's chest, the other played with the short brown hair at the back of his neck. Her smile transformed into a pout. "You started the fun without me. Makes me feel sad. Makes me want to cry."
Spike tipped her chin up and kissed her pouty lip. " Have no fear pet. There's more." He held her face with his eyes until a smile spread across her lips. He then turned toward the far hallway.
The sounds of a struggle emanated from behind the closed door of the nearest sleeping quarters. Standing in front of it, his hand on the knob, Spike waited and listened a moment. He could hear what sounded to be a girl pleading, and then cloth ripping. Then he heard a man grunt and swear in German, then flesh striking flesh. A sneer curled Spike's lip, he turned the knob but the door was locked. With a shrug of his shoulders, he shoved his fist through the door jam. Wood splintered as the deadbolt broke through the frame. Spike stood fast in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the sight before him.
On a large four-poster bed on one side of the quarters was a half-dressed SS colonel. His pants were down around his ankles and his uniform coat was unbuttoned but he still had it on. He was struggling with a girl who looked to be only 15. Her dress was torn open at the top, revealing her breasts, though it was almost difficult to see where it was ripped, as the dress was so tattered and torn. It was more patches than dress. Her face was dirty and smeared with blood from a split lip.
When the door had broken in, both had stopped and turned. But the girl immediately went back to struggling. The man bodily held her down and turned his head back to Spike. In German he shouted, "What are you doing here?!?! Guards!! Gregor!!! Bjorn!!!
Spike put a hand to his head as though the shouting caused him a headache and responded in prefect German. "Must you Nazi officers always shout like that? Anyway Bjorn and Gunter, Gregor whatever, won't be coming. They've already had their fun for tonight."
The Officer looked incredulously at him then reached to the nightstand beside the bed and pulled open the top drawer. He drew a Luger from inside, but Spike was across the room before he could bring the pistol to level. Grabbing the colonel's hand he twisted sharply and a loud crack could be heard as the bone in the man's wrist snapped to what should have been an impossible angle. The German screamed in pain and dropped the gun. As he did he loosened his grip on the girl and she twisted away from him. Leaping from the bed she sped past Spike. He made no move to stop her. His attention was locked on the colonel.
Releasing the hand Spike quickly established a firm grip at the colonel's throat. Pushing the man back against one of the bedposts, he looked the officer up and down and then glanced at the disheveled bed. His eyes held the fire of excitement, the look on Spike's face made it clear that he drew much pleasure from this. "Oh I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your little game?"
The man's eyes bulged and his face turned purple.
"Well, I have a little game of my own I like. And you are a lucky bastard. Cause guess what? I'm going to teach you how to play. I don't do that for everyone you know." His voice was filled with mock innocent chiding.
Spike's face transformed from his human appearance to the ridges and fangs of his vampire mask. Leaning in he pushed the man's head to one side and whispered in the German's ear "Don't worry. This game is easy. The only rule is: Do exactly as I say." With that he lowered his teeth into the skin of the man's neck.
At first the colonel struggled but quickly his actions became more subdued. His body was nearly limp when Spike stopped. Holding the man with one hand at the back of his neck, he put his own wrist to his mouth and bit into the vein. As the blood started to flow Spike pushed the wound to the mouth of the German. "Now drink."
The man, barely conscious, did as he was told. Spike let him drink until he decided it was enough and then pulled his hand away and threw the officer's unconscious body onto the bed.
Not giving him a second glance, he walked out through the shattered doorframe and called out for Drusilla. As he walked back into the main room of the railroad car, he saw her sitting in the chair he had been in. Resting in her lap was the girl. Her eyes were closed and her head leaned against Dru's breast. Seeing him come in Dru raised another finger to her lips and shushed. "Shhhhh, baby's sleeping." Lightly she stroked the girl's unkempt hair. As she did the girl's head fell to one side, and Spike saw the two bloody holes at the base of her neck. He smiled sardonically and shook his head. Dru looked up at him, her face sweetened by an innocent smile.
TBC
Author: UnholyChurch
Disclaimer: Spike and Dru belong to Joss, ME and the whole band at UPN The other characters however are of my own creation.
Summary: 1943 Central Europe. A story about Spike and Dru in war torn France.
Pairings: Spike/Dru, there will be some abstract Buffy Xander later
Rating: R
Note: This is intended to be the first in a series of fics that are designed to build a history behind the Vampire known as William the Bloody.
Who was Spike before he came to Sunnydale? What did he do?
Note: Something that bothers me so I'm clearing it up. Vampires can breath they just don't have to. This is why Spike can smoke. Their lungs function but the oxygen isn't required by the body.
Historical Note: for those of you who know history better than I please disregard any inaccuracies that I have overlooked. It tried to research a little but didn't have time to be completely thorough.
The low rumble of wheels rattling over the steel tracks echoed dully through the nearly empty luxury railroad car. Every object in the car dripped with opulence and extravagance, from the ornate mahogany furniture covered with satin cushions to the plush red wall-to-wall carpeting and the finely crafted works of art that hung on every wall. There was a well- stocked wet bar in one corner filled with the finest spirits money could buy. A detailed map of western France hid the felt-covered gaming table. Spike leaned back in one of the plush armchairs that surrounded the room. His velvet-trimmed coat lay across the back of the chair. Black against red. Red against black. Like another work of art. In one hand he held a half empty tumbler of brandy, the cubes of ice very nearly melted. His feet were up, and rested on an ottoman decorated as richly as the rest of the furniture. The reflection from the gas lamps shone in the polish of his black riding boots. Silently he stared across the room, his steely- blue eyes fixed on the world passing by outside the window. Moving the lit cigarette in his hand to his mouth he took another long pull at the harsh smoke.
As he watched solemnly, his mind drifted to his own recent history. Some 20 years ago he and Dru had come to central Europe to enjoy the wonderful chaos that abounded in the aftermath of the Great War. Times had been good. A missing person here and there was commonplace and for a vampire it was pure paradise. Together they had gained control of a small estate in the Hungarian countryside from its rather carefree and careless owners. It was near enough to Budapest that they never had to travel far for a meal. They lived through the 20s as though they were king and queen of their own tiny kingdom.
Governments rose and fell. In the beginning, Russian influence was strong on the weak Hungarian leadership but communism and bolshevism themselves were still young and disorganized and never really a bother to two creatures of the night. Time passed and the world began to change. A new power was gaining strength in the heart of Europe. Spike had watched with fascination as one Adolf Hitler and his Third Reich drew strength from the discontentment that plagued European nations still struggling with reconstruction and insurmountable war debts. The power they now wielded had become the mightiest force Europe had seen since the days of Napoleon or possibly even Alexander the Great. Finally the Germans had decided to unsheathe the mighty sword they had been sharpening and hardening for nearly a decade for battle. With several massive slashes they had defeated nearly the entire European continent. Only a few holdouts in distant Russia and Spike's home island across the English Channel kept the Nazis from absolute victory.
The war was ripping the countryside apart. Reports of bombings across France and Germany filled the newspapers daily. Spike's blood would boil with excitement as he read the reports of violence and destruction. Finally he could sit idle no longer. He needed to be near the action. So one dead conductor and a few missing passengers later, he and Dru were on a train bound for the occupied city of Paris, France.
Initially, Spike didn't know what he was going to do upon arrival. He had nowhere to go but that really didn't bother him. He knew something would turn up. And sitting here now he had just realized what that something was. This richly decorated car did not belong to him. He was merely a guest invited in for a drink by an unwary soul. But he decided that this lifestyle was indeed what he wanted. And he had decided how to get it.
Spike tossed back the rest of his drink and glanced to the floor. At his feet lay the body of his unsuspecting host. A young soldier, a lieutenant, probably only 22, he was dressed in the black uniform of the German SS. Around his sleeve was the red armband emblazoned with the black swastika that associated him with the Nazi party, an organization that had become of extreme interest to Spike. At the boy's neck was a trickle of dried blood that had run down onto the epaulettes pinned to his black collar. Now bathed in blood were the silver S's shaped like lightning bolts that distinguished this soldier as a member of the Schutzstaffel or Protection Squad. Spike smiled to himself at the symbolism of this small detail. Within small circles of people in Europe the SS had become infamous for their cruelty and bloodshed, especially when it came to the treatment of the "non-Aryan" races. The occupying Nazis had formed a tight grip on the European press however, and none of these stories made it into the papers. Spike had connections within these circles and some of the stories shocked even him. He had trouble believing that mere humans were capable of such acts of atrocity and cruelty.
A clamor from the opposite end of the car broke Spike out of his thoughts. He couldn't see to the rear of the car because there was a division for sleeping quarters and the hallway was on the opposite side from where he was sitting. But he could hear what sounded to be struggling and muffled cries of pain and fear. He heard a door open and then slam shut again to the sleeping quarters in this car. Spike sucked the last drag out of his cigarette as he rose from his seat. Crushing the butt out in the ashtray, he turned back as the door nearer to him opened and let in the sounds of the outside world rushing by. Through the door entered Drusilla dressed in one of her loveliest emerald gowns, a smile filled with perverse joy on her lips. Her eyes sparkled with anticipation. Spike gave her a knowing look. Being together for so long meant that words were rarely needed. She knew instantly what he wanted and she was overjoyed by what it meant. She jumped up and down slightly clapping her gloved hands together gently like a little child who'd been told they get to go to the Candy Shoppe.
On each side of the door Dru had entered were two other soldiers lying on the floor. One was propped up against the wall his eyes still open staring into nothingness. Neither had puncture wounds on their necks but their heads were both twisted at horrific angles. Dru stepped over the legs of the first soldier and as she passed she allowed her fingers to glide over the head and down the face of the other as she pushed his eyelids closed.
Putting a gloved finger to her lips she whispered "Shhh time for sleeping now. Daddy doesn't want you to be awake." Coming in she stopped to look down at the lieutenant before continuing on to Spike, nuzzling the side of his neck, her one hand rested on Spike's chest, the other played with the short brown hair at the back of his neck. Her smile transformed into a pout. "You started the fun without me. Makes me feel sad. Makes me want to cry."
Spike tipped her chin up and kissed her pouty lip. " Have no fear pet. There's more." He held her face with his eyes until a smile spread across her lips. He then turned toward the far hallway.
The sounds of a struggle emanated from behind the closed door of the nearest sleeping quarters. Standing in front of it, his hand on the knob, Spike waited and listened a moment. He could hear what sounded to be a girl pleading, and then cloth ripping. Then he heard a man grunt and swear in German, then flesh striking flesh. A sneer curled Spike's lip, he turned the knob but the door was locked. With a shrug of his shoulders, he shoved his fist through the door jam. Wood splintered as the deadbolt broke through the frame. Spike stood fast in the doorway, his eyes fixed on the sight before him.
On a large four-poster bed on one side of the quarters was a half-dressed SS colonel. His pants were down around his ankles and his uniform coat was unbuttoned but he still had it on. He was struggling with a girl who looked to be only 15. Her dress was torn open at the top, revealing her breasts, though it was almost difficult to see where it was ripped, as the dress was so tattered and torn. It was more patches than dress. Her face was dirty and smeared with blood from a split lip.
When the door had broken in, both had stopped and turned. But the girl immediately went back to struggling. The man bodily held her down and turned his head back to Spike. In German he shouted, "What are you doing here?!?! Guards!! Gregor!!! Bjorn!!!
Spike put a hand to his head as though the shouting caused him a headache and responded in prefect German. "Must you Nazi officers always shout like that? Anyway Bjorn and Gunter, Gregor whatever, won't be coming. They've already had their fun for tonight."
The Officer looked incredulously at him then reached to the nightstand beside the bed and pulled open the top drawer. He drew a Luger from inside, but Spike was across the room before he could bring the pistol to level. Grabbing the colonel's hand he twisted sharply and a loud crack could be heard as the bone in the man's wrist snapped to what should have been an impossible angle. The German screamed in pain and dropped the gun. As he did he loosened his grip on the girl and she twisted away from him. Leaping from the bed she sped past Spike. He made no move to stop her. His attention was locked on the colonel.
Releasing the hand Spike quickly established a firm grip at the colonel's throat. Pushing the man back against one of the bedposts, he looked the officer up and down and then glanced at the disheveled bed. His eyes held the fire of excitement, the look on Spike's face made it clear that he drew much pleasure from this. "Oh I'm sorry. Did I interrupt your little game?"
The man's eyes bulged and his face turned purple.
"Well, I have a little game of my own I like. And you are a lucky bastard. Cause guess what? I'm going to teach you how to play. I don't do that for everyone you know." His voice was filled with mock innocent chiding.
Spike's face transformed from his human appearance to the ridges and fangs of his vampire mask. Leaning in he pushed the man's head to one side and whispered in the German's ear "Don't worry. This game is easy. The only rule is: Do exactly as I say." With that he lowered his teeth into the skin of the man's neck.
At first the colonel struggled but quickly his actions became more subdued. His body was nearly limp when Spike stopped. Holding the man with one hand at the back of his neck, he put his own wrist to his mouth and bit into the vein. As the blood started to flow Spike pushed the wound to the mouth of the German. "Now drink."
The man, barely conscious, did as he was told. Spike let him drink until he decided it was enough and then pulled his hand away and threw the officer's unconscious body onto the bed.
Not giving him a second glance, he walked out through the shattered doorframe and called out for Drusilla. As he walked back into the main room of the railroad car, he saw her sitting in the chair he had been in. Resting in her lap was the girl. Her eyes were closed and her head leaned against Dru's breast. Seeing him come in Dru raised another finger to her lips and shushed. "Shhhhh, baby's sleeping." Lightly she stroked the girl's unkempt hair. As she did the girl's head fell to one side, and Spike saw the two bloody holes at the base of her neck. He smiled sardonically and shook his head. Dru looked up at him, her face sweetened by an innocent smile.
TBC