Title: Games Among the Dead
Authors: Dragonmaster and Yossarian
Rating: NC-17 everywhere but FF . net in order to defer to rules.
Fandom: Major Crossover. Mainly Buffy/World of Darkness series, but has guest appearances from FAKE and Vampire Game.
Genre: Drama/Action-Adventure
Pairings: Spike/Xander, Buffy/Angel, Willow/Tara, Dee/Ryo
Warnings: Slash (of course), violence/gore, language.
Disclaimer: BtVS/AtS are owned by Joss Whedon and Mutant Enemy; World of Darkness is owned by White Wolf; Vampire Game is owned by Judal; FAKE is owned by Sanami Matoh. All original characters (mostly vamps) are owned by Dragonmaster and Yossarian.
Summary: Spike and Xander team up to find the mastermind behind a plot to destroy the Camarillian King of vampires, Duzell, and end up in far more than they bargained for.
Author's Note: Dragonmaster: Alright, many of you know me from both the Buffy and the FAKE fandoms, so I really don't have much to say other than this is my first time working with a co-author on a story this huge. This is definitely gonna be a WIP, so we'll need those reviews to stay motivated and not kill each other! Anyway... We kinda had to tweak the fandoms in order for them all to fit and work together; altering the appearance of the Toreador clan of vampires to fit the Buffy vamps, for example, was one of those adjustments. So, if anything seems weird, mainly in the WoD setting, then that's the reason for it. Enjoy!
Author's Note: Yossarian: Unlike DM, this is my first attempt at writing fanfiction, though I'm far from new to the writing world. We tried to make this story a complete blending of our two very different writing styles, and because of this, we both contributed at least something to each chapter. We originally were going to divide up the chapters while we worked on plot, setting, twists, etc together, but we soon realized that we could not keep a clear consistency this way. This is a result of blending our efforts together, and whether or not that was a good idea is up to you. Enjoy.
Games Among the Dead
By: Dragonmaster and Yossarian
William Stuart, better known as 'Spike' to friends and enemies alike, stared warily at the sealed envelope sitting across from him on the table. It wasn't the envelope itself that made the young Toreador vampire uneasy; it was the scepter symbol that adorned the upper right-hand corner that made his stolen blood run cold. It was the clan symbol of the Ventrue, the upper class "noble" breed of vampire.
Spike hated the Ventrue.
Growling softly, he turned his steely gaze on the hooded figure standing next to him. "Bosch, how did dear King Duzell know how to contact me?" he snarled through gritted teeth, keeping a tight rein on his internal Beast.
The wretched figure in the hood, Bosch, backed away fearfully. "The King heard of the Lady Drusilla's tragic demise, Master," the Nosferatu wheedled. "He was also aware that I occasionally worked for you, so he had me deliver the message."
Spike glared balefully at Bosch. "So you're runnin' errands for the Camarilla now?" He snorted. "Still, I suppose it's better than workin' for the bloody Sabbat."
Bosch stiffened at the implication. "I assure you, Master Spike, that I remain loyal to our Anarch cause. The King merely asked me who would be the best candidate among our sect to assist him in a dangerous mission," the Nosferatu explained, his deformed features barely visible beneath the dark cowl. "I suggested that you would be the best choice and that you were one of the most powerful Masters left among us. However, King Duzell was a bit doubtful when I told him you were a Toreador."
Spike let out a derisive snort. His clan was known for their beauty, their sophistication, and their love of the arts. Subsequently, the Toreador were not recommended for combat or even tactical situations. Spike took great pride in the fact that he didn't fit the Toreador mold and that he could easily match the toughest Brujah or Gangrel in battle despite his small stature.
Snuffing out his cigarette in an ashtray, Spike picked up the letter and examined it closely. Any scents that might have been on the envelope were masked by the pungent odour of sewage, which was Bosch's standard route of travel. He pulled out a slim pocket knife and slid it under the seal. Beside him, Bosch shifted uncomfortably.
"You may go," Spike said, picking up on the other vampire's anxiety. "Don't try to find me again. If I need you, then I'll contact you."
Bosch bowed and slunk backward out of the apartment, making sure he never turned his back on the unpredictable Toreador. "As you wish, Master." He bowed and was abruptly gone.
Spike waited to hear the door close before opening the envelope. He knew better than to assume Bosch left when he pulled his vanishing act; the Nosferatu were notorious for their ability to remain unseen.
As soon as Spike heard the soft click of the lock, he pulled out the letter and smoothed it out on the table in front of him. The young Toreador studied Duzell's neat, precise script before slipping on his glasses and beginning to read.
To Master William M. Stuart, Clan Toreador-
It has come to my attention that you are perhaps one of the only remaining leaders in the Anarch community and it is because of this that I write to you now. Why in Caine's name are we fighting each other when we should be focussing our attention on fighting our common enemy- the Sabbat. I wish to propose an alliance, the details of which I cannot discuss in writing. If you choose to accept, meet me at my stronghold in Baltimore in a week's time. I look forward to our meeting.
-Duzell, King of Camarilla, Clan Ventrue.
Spike read the letter twice more before leaning back in his chair and setting his glasses on the table. He had to admit: he was intrigued. What could the king of the Camarilla want with an Anarch Master and a Toreador to boot? Duzell was a Ventrue after all, and that breed was known for looking down on any non-Ventrue Kindred.
Rubbing his eyes wearily, Spike carefully folded the letter and slipped it into one of his duster's interior pockets. He would leave for Baltimore as soon as the sun set the next day. For the time being, the Toreador needed to feed and find a safe place to bunk down for the day.
Slinking noiselessly out of the abandoned apartment, he headed off into the night.
Oh yeah, definitely a demon magnet, came the hysterical thought from the back of Alexander Harris' mind. He had offered to stay late and help his boss, Jerry, close down the bar and had stupidly refused a ride home. All had gone well until he ran into what seemed to be a vampire on steroids.
Where was a Slayer when you needed one?
Back in Sunnydale, where you should be, a little voice piped up from the back of Xander's mind. Oh yeah, that made him feel so much better.
He ran blindly around a corner, desperate to escape the alley and the vampire. Another dead end. He was trapped.
The vampire chuckled deep in his throat as he padded toward Xander, the moonlight accentuating the pearly-white colour of those lethal fangs. "Don't make this any harder than it has to be, boy," the vamp rumbled.
Xander backed up until his felt the cold of the brick wall through his shirt. He checked his pockets again in vain, but no stake or cross had magically appeared. The knowledge that he was going to die sank in; there wasn't anyone around who was strong enough to save him now.
"I thought you Camarilla types had that bloody Masquerade to uphold."
Okay, maybe there was one person around. Of course, once Spike dusts this guy, then you're right back to square one, the snide part of Xander's mind commented. He suddenly wondered why his brain hated him so much.
The giant vampire seemed just as surprised at Spike's sudden appearance as Xander was. He snarled, baring his fangs at the bleach-blonde. "Are you challenging me, little Toreador?" He seemed almost amused at this notion.
Spike's face was expressionless, his golden eyes boring into his opponent's. "I will if I have to," he replied. "The boy is mine." Xander opened his mouth to protest, but quickly shut it at Spike's glare that clearly said 'stay silent if you want to live.'
"I wasn't aware you Anarchs," the vampire spat the word, "used ghouls. You should keep better track of your servants."
Spike stepped close to the big vampire, invading the other's space despite his smaller size. "I think you should leave the boy to me and find something else to eat, mate," he purred in a deceptively casual tone of voice.
The big vampire let out an angry hiss, but saw the hidden threat in Spike's words and stalked off. "Next time you're in Camarilla territory, you'd better watch your back, Toreador!" he shouted over his shoulder.
Spike chuckled at the retreating vampire. "Brujah: all brawn an' no brains, they are," he commented. The blonde cast a cursory glance at Xander, who stared warily back. "You alright, pup?"
"Are you going to kill me?"
"I've already eaten."
"Then, yeah; I'm fine. What the hell was that all about?"
Spike ignored the question and lit up a cigarette. "You're welcome."
Xander blinked at the non-sequitur. "Huh?"
"For savin' your arse. Y'welcome," Spike elaborated. "Now you can tell the Slayer that I'm not 'ere to hunt you lot down. In fact, I'm leavin' the state tomorrow night."
"Oh, okay," Xander said, not mentioning that Buffy was nowhere near Oxnard. "Thanks, Spike. I hate to admit it, but I owe you one."
The vampire chuckled. "I'll keep that in mind the next time I'm in Sunnyhell."
There was an awkward silence and Xander focused his attention on anything but Spike. Here was a way to get out of Oxnard, but that would involve trusting Spike. The only reason he wasn't dead now was because Spike thought Buffy was in town.
"Hey, uh, Spike?" The rational part of his mind frantically tried to derail his train of thought. "Where are you going?"
Spike looked up, surprised. "East," he said elusively. "Why? You plannin' on followin' me?"
"Actually, yeah," Xander admitted before he could think twice about his decision. "Could I... y'know... go with you?"
On the bright side, Xander couldn't remember ever seeing anyone that shocked.
"I have to admit, mate," Spike said slowly. "You've certainly got a pair."
Xander shrugged. "Anything's better than being stuck here. Besides, I can't go back to Sunnydale." Spike raised an eyebrow. "I kinda told my family that I'm not coming back. I'm sick of being everyone's doughnut boy, so I decided to make a new life for myself," he said quietly.
Spike stared at Xander for a long moment, seemingly trying to see into the teen's soul and it made Xander feel more than a little uncomfortable.
"Go get your kit."
Xander blinked. "Huh?"
Spike flicked his cigarette on the ground and crushed it beneath the heel of his boot. "Your stuff. Go and get it, then we'll stay at my apartment for the day. We leave at sunset tomorrow. I'll explain everything when we get to the flat," he said. "There are things you'll need to know in order to survive in my world."
The feeling that he had suddenly wandered in over his head hit Xander; but, for some reason, he wanted to know more; to become more. "What do you mean, 'your world?'" he asked warily.
Spike continued to stare firmly into Xander's eyes. "Before I answer that," he said seriously, "ask yourself if you really want to know the answer to that question. If the answer is no, then I'll take you as far as Vegas and continue on alone. If you choose to come with me, I can only promise that I won't hurt you. You should be safe as long as you stay close, but some vamps don't always play by the rules. Got it?"
Xander answered before he could re-think his decision. He had made up his mind. "I'm coming with you, Spike," he said firmly. "I want to see your world."