Author Note: Ok, not much response to the first chapter. Maybe I just suck,
but I like writing, and I love the Buffy series. Hope you enjoy the
upcoming twists and developement.
Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one. Still dont own them.
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Later...
The Magic Box was empty at four in the morning, it always was. That is, except for one person. She wasn't getting ready to open up shop, though, not getting ready for the day, dusting off items, or counting the register. No, the only activity was in the training room, which had only recently been rebuilt after Willow's Wiccan tirade that had torn the place in half. The steady *thunk, thunk* of the punching bag was the only sound that broke the glass-fragile silence of the early morning hours before Sunnydale actually woke up. It was expected of Buffy to brush up on her skills here and there, spend some time doing some physical training, but this wasn't Buffy.
It was Dawn.
She had been sneaking into the Magic Box for the past three months, lifting the weights, working on the punching bags; and she loved it. She was in increadible shape, she was getting faster, stronger, and she was getting more mature all the time. She had eventually gotten tired of being ignored most of the time, and when she wasn't ignored, she was chastised. So she took herself out of the picture. The only people she ever talked to anymore among the Scoobies were Willow and Spike. Xander was cool sometimes, but he was too often brooding over what could happen, or Anya.
Dawn laced into the bag a few more times, and for a finale, she whipped around and planted a kick that sent the thing swinging. That one she owed to Buffy. Dawn trudged over to her bag and retrieved a towel to mop her face. It was almost four fifteen and she needed to be back home by five. She set about unwrapping her taped hands and stuffing her things in the bag. She was glad Buffy didn't know about this, because the Slayer-girl would probably take a few minutes out of her life to forbid Dawn from doing any such thing. Buffy was missing a lot of things lately; Dawn growing up, hanging out with Spike, getting stronger, and even going on patrol a few times. Dawn had a grand total of five vamps staked under her belt, and she was damn proud of it.
"If you only knew," she said quietly. She flipped off the lightswitch and headed out the back, into the alleys where she kept her key hidden.
"Does the Slayer know you come here?" the voice nearly made Dawn leap out of her skin. She whirled to see who it was, and her racing pulse only calmed down a little.
"Spike! Don't do that! You scared the hibijibis out of me!" Dawn slapped him on the arm. He'd been standing against the wall, smoking, right by the door.
"Sorry pigeon," He tossed his cigarette aside and turned to lean his shoulder against the wall. "I'm guessing that's a no?"
"No, she doesn't know," she paused, getting a bit frustrated, "how did you know?" She situated her bag strap across her chest and promptly gave him one of those accusing looks.
"Its my job to know things, bit," He grinned that Spike grin. "Don't look at me like that, I haven't told anyone. I hang around here so no one sees you. Though I've heard a few whispers lately about a pissed off girl with a piece of wood lately." Spike cocked a brow at her.
"Big deal, I've patrolled a few times," Both Spike's eyebrows went up this time.
"And I'm sure she doesn't know about that either." Spike glanced skyward.
"Right again, your on a roll. Shouldn't you be getting to the cemetery before you get all a-flam-be?" Dawn was smiling now. For some reason, she never doubted that her secrets were safe with Spike.
"Cute, love, really cute." He did need to be going, though. "Be careful headed home." He didn't want to tell her about what he'd seen hours before. Dawn nodded and sauntered off, and Spike watched her until she turned the corner.
He counted to ten after she had gone, and turned, "Come on out, whatever you are." Spike sniffed.
Just down the alley, from behind a convienently large stack of barrels and crates, stepped the stranger. Still in his coat, like Spike, also looking down to where Dawn had previously retreated.
"Who are you?" Spike's voice wasn't friendly, and the corners of his eyes twitched, a telltale sign that he was preparing himself to fight.
"Better question; what am I?" The stranger's voice also held an English accent, and as he stepped closer, his features came into view. He was bald, and his oddly green eyes seemed to smirk just as much as his mouth did. He was built like Spike, a bit rangy. His cheekbones were high and his cheeks just hollow enough to resemble Spike. It was almost as if they were brothers.
Spike would have time to be surprised later. "Eager to get naughty, tosser?" Spike took two steps out into the broad alleyway, enough room to maneuver.
"Thought you'd never ask, mate." The stranger charged forward with insane speed, but Spike wasn't your average prey. They had both vamped after three steps, and the collision rattled the walls around them. The bald stranger had ducked at the last instant and speared Spike in the gut, sending them both flying. After a moment of staggering to their feet, Spike spoke first.
"Was that really necessary?" He took a few meaningful strides towards the stranger.
"You bet," The coat-wearing vamp leapt forward again, but wasn't so lucky this time. Spike slammed a fist into his face, and the ensuing brawl was a spectacle. Spike was rage and death on feet, and the new baldy was measured precision. They battled back and forth for precious minutes, and they both knew time was winding down, because the sky was starting to lighten. Eventually, the stranger slipped. His foot gave way in a puddle of brackish water, and Spike spun into him and drove an elbow into his nose. The vamp slid just long enough to stop, and then kipped to his feet again. Spike faltered, and payed for it. The stranger spun in a tight arc and kicked him in the face. For the briefest of instants, before he was launched into the wall, he thought the maneuver looked strangely like something Buffy would do. Spike was dazed, and in trouble. The stranger stood over him, breathing hard and wiping at his bloody face. At least Spike had done a number on him. Who was he, anyway?
His opponent slipped out of his vampire state, and offered a hand. Spike glanced at him quizzically and took it, clambering to his feet.
"You hit pretty damn hard," The stranger spit blood. "And a lot," he grinned.
"Who are you?" Spike was confused, but still on guard, he reluctantly slipped out of his vamped state.
"I'll explain later," The stranger looked at the sky, "I think we'd better find a hole-up."
Spike nodded, for some reason, he had the feeling this guy just wanted a good fight, which Spike was all for occasionally.
"My name is Hale," he raised an arm down the alley, indicating "after you", "shall we?"
With that, Spike and Hale strode off down the alley, both keeping on their guard, but grinning despite themselves. They were kindred spirits, they knew, to what extent, they had no idea.
Disclaimer: Refer to chapter one. Still dont own them.
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Later...
The Magic Box was empty at four in the morning, it always was. That is, except for one person. She wasn't getting ready to open up shop, though, not getting ready for the day, dusting off items, or counting the register. No, the only activity was in the training room, which had only recently been rebuilt after Willow's Wiccan tirade that had torn the place in half. The steady *thunk, thunk* of the punching bag was the only sound that broke the glass-fragile silence of the early morning hours before Sunnydale actually woke up. It was expected of Buffy to brush up on her skills here and there, spend some time doing some physical training, but this wasn't Buffy.
It was Dawn.
She had been sneaking into the Magic Box for the past three months, lifting the weights, working on the punching bags; and she loved it. She was in increadible shape, she was getting faster, stronger, and she was getting more mature all the time. She had eventually gotten tired of being ignored most of the time, and when she wasn't ignored, she was chastised. So she took herself out of the picture. The only people she ever talked to anymore among the Scoobies were Willow and Spike. Xander was cool sometimes, but he was too often brooding over what could happen, or Anya.
Dawn laced into the bag a few more times, and for a finale, she whipped around and planted a kick that sent the thing swinging. That one she owed to Buffy. Dawn trudged over to her bag and retrieved a towel to mop her face. It was almost four fifteen and she needed to be back home by five. She set about unwrapping her taped hands and stuffing her things in the bag. She was glad Buffy didn't know about this, because the Slayer-girl would probably take a few minutes out of her life to forbid Dawn from doing any such thing. Buffy was missing a lot of things lately; Dawn growing up, hanging out with Spike, getting stronger, and even going on patrol a few times. Dawn had a grand total of five vamps staked under her belt, and she was damn proud of it.
"If you only knew," she said quietly. She flipped off the lightswitch and headed out the back, into the alleys where she kept her key hidden.
"Does the Slayer know you come here?" the voice nearly made Dawn leap out of her skin. She whirled to see who it was, and her racing pulse only calmed down a little.
"Spike! Don't do that! You scared the hibijibis out of me!" Dawn slapped him on the arm. He'd been standing against the wall, smoking, right by the door.
"Sorry pigeon," He tossed his cigarette aside and turned to lean his shoulder against the wall. "I'm guessing that's a no?"
"No, she doesn't know," she paused, getting a bit frustrated, "how did you know?" She situated her bag strap across her chest and promptly gave him one of those accusing looks.
"Its my job to know things, bit," He grinned that Spike grin. "Don't look at me like that, I haven't told anyone. I hang around here so no one sees you. Though I've heard a few whispers lately about a pissed off girl with a piece of wood lately." Spike cocked a brow at her.
"Big deal, I've patrolled a few times," Both Spike's eyebrows went up this time.
"And I'm sure she doesn't know about that either." Spike glanced skyward.
"Right again, your on a roll. Shouldn't you be getting to the cemetery before you get all a-flam-be?" Dawn was smiling now. For some reason, she never doubted that her secrets were safe with Spike.
"Cute, love, really cute." He did need to be going, though. "Be careful headed home." He didn't want to tell her about what he'd seen hours before. Dawn nodded and sauntered off, and Spike watched her until she turned the corner.
He counted to ten after she had gone, and turned, "Come on out, whatever you are." Spike sniffed.
Just down the alley, from behind a convienently large stack of barrels and crates, stepped the stranger. Still in his coat, like Spike, also looking down to where Dawn had previously retreated.
"Who are you?" Spike's voice wasn't friendly, and the corners of his eyes twitched, a telltale sign that he was preparing himself to fight.
"Better question; what am I?" The stranger's voice also held an English accent, and as he stepped closer, his features came into view. He was bald, and his oddly green eyes seemed to smirk just as much as his mouth did. He was built like Spike, a bit rangy. His cheekbones were high and his cheeks just hollow enough to resemble Spike. It was almost as if they were brothers.
Spike would have time to be surprised later. "Eager to get naughty, tosser?" Spike took two steps out into the broad alleyway, enough room to maneuver.
"Thought you'd never ask, mate." The stranger charged forward with insane speed, but Spike wasn't your average prey. They had both vamped after three steps, and the collision rattled the walls around them. The bald stranger had ducked at the last instant and speared Spike in the gut, sending them both flying. After a moment of staggering to their feet, Spike spoke first.
"Was that really necessary?" He took a few meaningful strides towards the stranger.
"You bet," The coat-wearing vamp leapt forward again, but wasn't so lucky this time. Spike slammed a fist into his face, and the ensuing brawl was a spectacle. Spike was rage and death on feet, and the new baldy was measured precision. They battled back and forth for precious minutes, and they both knew time was winding down, because the sky was starting to lighten. Eventually, the stranger slipped. His foot gave way in a puddle of brackish water, and Spike spun into him and drove an elbow into his nose. The vamp slid just long enough to stop, and then kipped to his feet again. Spike faltered, and payed for it. The stranger spun in a tight arc and kicked him in the face. For the briefest of instants, before he was launched into the wall, he thought the maneuver looked strangely like something Buffy would do. Spike was dazed, and in trouble. The stranger stood over him, breathing hard and wiping at his bloody face. At least Spike had done a number on him. Who was he, anyway?
His opponent slipped out of his vampire state, and offered a hand. Spike glanced at him quizzically and took it, clambering to his feet.
"You hit pretty damn hard," The stranger spit blood. "And a lot," he grinned.
"Who are you?" Spike was confused, but still on guard, he reluctantly slipped out of his vamped state.
"I'll explain later," The stranger looked at the sky, "I think we'd better find a hole-up."
Spike nodded, for some reason, he had the feeling this guy just wanted a good fight, which Spike was all for occasionally.
"My name is Hale," he raised an arm down the alley, indicating "after you", "shall we?"
With that, Spike and Hale strode off down the alley, both keeping on their guard, but grinning despite themselves. They were kindred spirits, they knew, to what extent, they had no idea.