Harry Potter and The Half-Blood Prince...And others.
Chapter Two A Vampire and His Slayer's Other
Surely enough, the next morning saw Professor Dumbledore expressing deep gratitude towards having Spike teaching Physical defense on Saturday mornings in a spare room that would be 'set to accommodate his needs.'
Hermione happily noted that the blonde made no guest appearance at breakfast, but was disappointed when she found about all Third Year (that was the minimum age to take part in his class) to Seventh Year girls were lined outside the hall, pushing to sign their name to the clipboard.
Ron and Harry, who she had dragged with her, were feeling slightly uncomfortable at all the bodies pressing against them.
"Oh, Come on!" Hermione complained as she was pushed away, quill in hand. "Like Eloise Miggett could fight, the fat pig!" Harry and Ron were astounded by her behavior.
"Come off it, Hermione. You can sign up to be Spike-y's play toy another time." Ron said, getting a hint of jealousy in his tone.
"Not to worry, Pidge," said a throaty voice behind her. Hermione jumped to find a grinning vampire directly behind her. "You're name's top of the list."
"See, 'Mione. Now can we go? We've got double potions with Slughorn today. And Transfiguration." Harry nudged Hermione in the ribs, getting a bit uneasy around the grinning vampire.
"Oh, Fine!" Hermione consented finally, walking off haughtily. "But not another word about your precious Prince!"
Spike watched as the three teens disappeared down the corridor, and thought it best to leave as well before the swarming girls turned on to him.
"Hitting on sixteen year olds now, Spike?" Buffy asked, amused, coming up behind the vampire. Spike turned around and saw the smile, but also the discomfort.
"Just a spot of fun, luv." Her smile disappeared to be replaced with a frown at his pet names.
"Don't call me that." She said irritably. He held his hands up defensively, and she noticed the sun shining on his face. "And why aren't you all KFC right now?"
Spike held up a ringed finger to show her, starting to walk away, knowing she'd follow him.
"Old Dumbeldore enchanted it so I can walk and talk and not be all 'Gone with the Wind'-like. Actually knew the bloke from early vampire times. Helped me out of a tight spot." He said, almost reading her mind. "S'Why I'm here. Partly. Y'know, after the Grand Poof sending me here, soulless. Dumbledore's working on that bit.
Anyways, he needs help against this 'Lord Voldemort', so I said I'd help. Supposedly, I'm to be teaching the squirts about Nasties and defending themselves, should the need for physical defense arise in a battle of magic. Why isn't Red here, anyways? This does seem to be her area of expertise," He asked as they turned down a crowded hall, bright sunlight capturing the beautiful curves of his face and illuminating his blue eyes. She didn't speak, didn't hear him for being so captured by his beauty. He recognized the struck gaze she was gazing at him with and stopped.
"Sweet, did you here me?" he asked, a bit confused at the struck gaze she held to him now. Oh, how he recognized it well. It was the same longing gaze he'd stare at her with, love struck beneath her windowsill.
"Yeah, yeah…I heard you…Physical defense, ring…. got it all…" Spike shook his head, looking out at the sun that shone brilliantly from beside two drifting white clouds.
"God…How I hated that thing…so full of sunshine and happiness…. Reminds me of you, sweet. You were my Sun…." he whispered, and Buffy, back to herself due to him and little Nibble (The hippogriff) on her shoulder, squawking quietly as it wound itself in her golden hair.
"Stop it Spike…. Not here, please." He eyes implored with him, and his face fell before he smiled again, sadly.
"Why?" he asked her softly. It was just the two of them now- all the students had disappeared into their appropriate classrooms, leaving only a charmed paper airplane zooming headfirst repeatedly into a shut door, as if fruitlessly trying to reach a target.
Her eyes were full of a special guilt, and a sad longing, too. She looked away and muttered something Spike did not hear. He captured her chin with his hand and directed it back to him. He asked of her again with his questioning blue eyes, and she closed her eyes for a moment, Nibble's soft coos resounding in her ears.
"Because you don't have a soul." She whispered.
Spike dropped his hand immediately and his eyes hardened. Nibble stretched up on Buffy's shoulder, and she absently pet his feathery head with a forefinger, her eyes watching Spike pace before her.
"The Soul! It's always the stupid sodding soul, isn't it? It's never the bloody man, or vampire with you! Always the bloody soul!" he vented his anger in his words before turning to a tearing Buffy. Reproachful, he took her hands.
"What do I have to do, Buffy? Tell me, what is it that you want? How can I prove that I love you? After all, I'm only a man. I can love, if you could just give me the chance."
Buffy let out a tiny sob, catching it with a hand over her mouth, and she sank onto the ground, tears streaming down her face. She pet his face once over, reveling in the silkiness the sun gave it as she croaked the next words.
"I know you love me," she whispered, and a great light exploded in his eyes. "But I don't know if I can love you without a soul…" At this, his eyes became dark and hard, and she was amazed to see how differently he was from ensouled Spike as he spun away and slammed his fist into the stone of a door. A few screams were heard from inside the classroom, and a few moments later, Proffesor McGonagall stormed open the doors to find the Slayer sobbing into her knees, Nibble twittering at her feet.
Angel, who would normally be asleep during the fragile hours of the day, was awake due to the insistent knocking on his door. Twisting the sheets around his torso, he got up unwillingly from the scarlet four-poster bed. Upon opening the door, he was met by the fevered kissed of Buffy as she threw herself at him. She pushed him back against the bed and continued to kiss him, to which he didn't stop until she began to kick off her shoes.
"Buffy…No…My soul..." he spoke between kisses. He recognized she'd been crying as she pulled away, twirling a lock of his hair between her fingers. He also uncomfortably noted that her pet was hovering only a few inches away, and watching with very keen eyes.
"Are you happy? Completely?" she asked breathlessly, her mouth descending onto his neck as she pressed herself to him. He thought of Connor back in L.A., and immediately became saddened.
"No." he whispered. She lifted up, running a caressing hand over his smooth pale skin and smiled.
"Then shut up."
Spike himself disappeared from the castle upon leaving the crying Slayer with a few silver coins in his pocket and headed for the village of Hogsmeade, after passing tight security.
The Three Broomsticks was overly cheery for his type, so he entered the shabby and cheap place with a hanging sign reading 'Boars Head' and ordered a pint of Blood (Surprising enough, they even stocked human, though he settled on Pig's) with his firewhiskey.
He realized at once that this was most likely where the shadiest of characters out of the Wizarding World hung out, and extending his enhanced senses, picked up on interesting conversation…
"Fresh from Bermuda…yes, yes, illegal, but all the same, very pricey and fresh hatched…Seventy Galleons a piece…"
"Yeh," a filthy looking man in the corner with a tattered brown bag was hanging over a table, bumping head's with an old croon. "Yeh could say dey is Harry Potter's, pass'd to 'em from 'is Godfather, Sirius Black…Pure Silver, and yes, dat's the Black family crest….'ere, it'll come out, jest give 'er a few o' these rubs, tap 'er, then, go on, she'll come clean, she will… Thir'een Galleons…"
"The Dark Lord won't be pleased if Malfoy messes up, I trust you know that Severus?" A tall woman with cascading blonde hair and pouty red lips asked the man in a whisper. Severus…that was a name Spike knew, and he turned to see the Hogwarts teacher fuming over his mug to the woman.
"Yes, Eileen. I am perfectly aware – was it not by his orders and his words that I'm here in the first place? No, Malfoy will succeed. The Dark Lord will be pleased with the both of us." Spike furrowed his brow…The Dark Lord. It was a title he'd heard many times before, and knew he must not be too good of a man to go by that name.
Spike continued to watch the pair, but not much more talk of this 'Dark Lord' passed between them, so their small talk was nothing to him. Before long, he tipped the greasy barman and left the dirty pub.
When Buffy emerged from Angel's room, it was well past five, and she found Spike lounging on the couch, watching the flames flicker in the grate while holding a bottle of nearly-empty firewhiskey in his hand. When she emerged, his attention snagged onto her, and surprise passed over his face, and then a dark look, and he swigged from the bottle, panted slightly, and turned back to the fire.
Buffy watched him carefully, waiting for him to say something, but when nothing passed his lips she turned and left through the tapestry that led to the rest of the castle.
Friday night, Hermione set Harry's 'checked' essay on his lap and pulled Ron's towards her and began crossing out weak sentences almost immediately. Ron watched her appreciatively, munching on an apple he'd nicked from the kitchens earlier.
"You're a genius 'Mione." He said as she handed it back. She smiled, and he was quizzical at the creeping blush that settled high in her cheeks.
"Oh, thanks Ron." Turning back to her day planner, she ruffled through the next few pages and settled on tomorrows date. "Oh, and I signed you both up for Physical Defense with me tomorrow."
Ron nearly turned purple for choking on his apple. Hermione pointed her wand at his throat and muttered something. Ron's throat cleared up, and he gulped heavily for air before rounding on his bushy haired friend.
"You what?" he started on her before turning to Harry. "He's worst than Lockhart!" And to be sure, a couple of girls just under their year were exchanging snapped pictures they had snuck of him at various points of the day.
"I agree with Ron," Harry joined in. "I mean, Hermione, he's a vampire!"
Hermione shrugged, packing up her quills and books. Glaring back at them, she narrowed her eyes.
"Dumbledore decided he'd be a fine professor, so I see no reason why we should think he's evil, or bad anyways."
Ron and Harry shared pointed looks over her head.
"Snape," They chorused in unison, nodding. Hermione rolled her eyes and turned onto Harry.
"If you really think Snape is evil, then why not talk to Dumbledore? Go show him what proof you have, I'm sure Dumbledore's belief in Snape and Spike will just vanish at your most excellent point of view!" With a last angry snap of words, Hermione pulled her things to her and stormed up to girls' dormitory.
For a long time, Harry and Ron said nothing, but stared intently at each other. Ron spoke first.
"I think she just stood up for Snape." He said in a deathly quiet whisper, his face pale as a sheet.
"I think she's under the Imperious Curse," Harry joked, though still confused at their best friends' behavior.
Spike lay, looking up at the dimming candle chandelier above him. Serpent, Lion, Badger and Raven twisted themselves around the thick brace of it, and he scanned every fine etch in the painted silver. His eyes were beginning to drift close, the thick weight of his soul problem suffocating him immensely…he thought he saw the silver serpent and the bronze lion stir in their solid slumber, and it jolted him as the last of the candles flickered out with a waxy sizzle.
Finally he pulled out of bed and slipped into a pair of jeans – Dumbeldore had magically supplied him with a wardrobe of jeans and cotton shirts, as well as a few billowy black, silver-lined robes.
He was silent as he stalked the halls, remembering that first guided tour the night he'd arrived here. Determinately, he picked his way through the winding halls, and across the moving staircases until he passed through the open archway of the library.
In his lifetime – and unlife – he'd seen too many books, and had soon grown to despise many of them, though poetry still held him rapt in its embrace. But that was not why he was here.
He followed the index cards that directed him through sections on Dragons, Mermaids, hexes, jinxes and charms until he found the rather small section on vampires that joined a shelf with 'Essences, Souls and the Mystic', which he also grazed through.
He finally found himself stacked with books, and straining his Vampiric eyesight to read the small, fine print. But his mind was getting heavy… he'd hardly slept, remember? Not since…not since two nights before their last apocalypse…catnaps not withstanding. He'd had one the day after the apocalypse…when he'd found himself here…surrounded by all these freaks…and not enough sleep weighed heavily on such an old mind…old mind such as his…
Buffy never slept that night. She returned late from walking through the castle after Spike had departed, though she thought him asleep. In the morning she found she had stayed awake the whole night staring at the dancing flames. It was so strange to be here, wasn't it? To be surrounded by a world she never knew existed. They were like her. A world of their own. Strange when you find the people you share something with. You're never really expecting people to understand you.
"Where's Spike?" Angel asked, emerging from his room after poking a head into Spike's. Buffy shrugged.
"He's got a class, hasn't he?" she snapped. "Maybe he's there." Angel seemed off put by her tone and shrugged.
"His class starts at ten, after breakfast. It's seven in the morning. Where could he be?" Buffy was quiet for a moment, contemplating where the de-souled, de-chipped, and de-moralized vampire could be. She suddenly got an extremely alarmed expression and looked to Angel, who seemed to come to the same conclusion.
"You don't think-?" Angel asked, horrified.
"He wouldn't!" Buffy argued, though not entirely convinced herself.
"It's Spike. And he doesn't have a soul. Are we gonna put some innocent kid's life at stake?"
"I'll get mine, just in case."
Even Nibble was prancing around uneasily, snapping the air as she flew after Buffy.
When Buffy emerged from her room with a couple of stakes and Nibble perched on her shoulder squawking in alarm, Angel took a few and disappeared almost immediately, Buffy following at a hasty speed.
"Spike!" Buffy shouted as she stuck her head through door after door. Most were empty classrooms, but a few 'early riser' students and their girlfriends/boyfriends looked very annoyed as they tried to cover up. Occasionally, portraits or statues would jump aside and students and teachers would pop out their sleepy heads to watch the blonde rush past, stake raised. A few even attempted to follow her.
At last, she came through the open archway of the library, calling his name in a breathless frenzy. As she nearly passed through, there was a loud thunk, and the bottle blonde poked his head up from between a row of shelves. A stooped librarian shoved her beaky nose through her door and shouted some unseemly words before disappearing once again.
"Buffy?" Spike asked, confused at the sweaty, huffing blonde.
"Oh, God, Spike! I thought – we thought-" she made haste to stow the stakes out of few, but the vampire saw and furrowed his brow.
"You thought I'd been killing, didn't you?" he asked in a deathly low voice as he picked himself up, shirtless and shoeless, from a pile of books. She blushed furiously and made to approach him.
"I'm sorry! I was stupid! Stupid idea. I just panicked when you weren't there this morning…"
"So all of a sudden Spike's gone back to torturing and maiming just because he's de-chipped and soulless?" There was that growl, almost a snarl in his voice as he approached her – that masterful gleam of dictation in his eyes. "Wrong luv," he whispered, diving his mouth to rest near her ear as he made to pass her. "I'm still as Slayer-whipped as ever."
Buffy stood still for a moment after the vampire past by her. Her breathing was heavy and she felt tears constrict her throat at his hurt words. Blinking them back hurriedly, she felt the shameful approach of curiosity, and moved through the shelves to kneel at the small litter of books.
" ' An Exploration of Vampiric nature', 'Souls: Removing and Restoring', 'Mysticism and Vampires.'" She needn't even flip throughout he rest of them, nor repeat them aloud. She knew what he'd been doing back here, and she felt even more foolish for it. Tossing down the last book, she cuddled Nibble to her chest and muttered into its miniscule wings.
"What've I done to him?"
Spike stood before the large mass of students. The classroom he'd been provided was, by all means, set to accommodate his needs; there was a weapons chest full of wooden quarterstaffs and swords, crossbows and daggers. A couple of lifeless dummies that had been enchanted to fight when the time came were hanging from hooks along the far wall, and mats covered the expanse of the room. Other items were pushed against the wall until time came for their use.
"Alright kiddies, wands away. Too dangerous to me." Spike shouted to the rather large group of teenagers that were standing in the large sunny room, wands held nervously. With a sigh of relief, the group pocketed theirs and turned their attention back to them.
Looking back at them, he almost laughed; well, he did, really. They were a motley crew. Most, granted, were infatuated teenage girls, but still…they ranged in so many assorted types as Baskin Robbins had flavours. But there were more than thirty-two. Much more.
"Oho-Okay. First off, who's here cause they wanna fight, and whose here a 'cause they wanna stare at my youthfully good looks?" Almost immediately, about half the population of students irrupted in giggles. It was to Spike's horror that one particularly strange boy was among them, giggling and eyeballing him with more than normal interest.
"Alright, chits, you're out. As in now." Sadly, the girls picked up their bags and turned to leave. Spike looked once more over the crowd and picked out a small huddled group of boys and girls that were still old enough for him to bounce on his knee. Looking to the shortest, he kept a straight face.
"What year are you, boy?" he asked. The boy looked a little spooked and looked around, as if he thought Spike was talking to someone else.
"Second, Professor." He mumbled. Spike leered at him, shaking his head.
"Out. All of you – and whoever isn't in Third year or above." He watched in mixed delight at the forty or so students left.
"As you all should be very aware of, my name's Spike. I'm a teacher here only for the blood and pay. And the fact that I owe Dumbledore. Good man, he is. And yes – I am a vampire. Of the bloodsucking variety, though you'll most likely like me compared t Peaches, who'll be skulking around somewhere all soulful and shagging the Slayer and whatnot. Oh, yeah. Slayer. Chosen One. Fights the nasties at night, superhuman powers and whatnot. She'll be the tiny blonde running through shouting my name, stake raised high." The class watched on amused as the vampire lost himself in his rant. "But anyways, the reason Dumbledore decided to start this whole fiasco of a class is on a count of some new nastie – or old nastie, as I've heard. Voldemort." The whole class – save a select one, the boy he'd seen with Granger, flinched at the sound of the name. Spike stopped pacing and cocked his ear as if listening. "Right, well first lesson of the day…"
Teaching. Pfft. William the Bloody, Scourge of Europe. Teaching. Who'd a thought that the self-proclaimed Billy Idol of Vampires would be standing before this classroom of children, teaching them? Old Spike, the Spike who'd kill the Prime Minister before National television if the opportunity had been provided was teaching. Children!
Facing them, he put his hands to his mouth, contemplating them. After a moment, he clapped his hands, startling most of them and smiled.
"Say your enemies name. Lord Voldemort." Once again there was a collective shudder, but one boy said the name aloud. Spike grinned and pointed to him.
"What's your name?"
"Harry Potter." The boy answered, shunning the looks he collected from his classmates.
"Well, Potter, ten points to your house…Gryffindor." Spike turned on his heel, his duster flaring. "Well, then, first lesson. Know your enemy. Say his name. I don't want the 'You-know-who' shit. I want answers. Now."
The rest of the class was spent repeating his name, until even Neville could bellow it and people would laugh rather than flinch, though some still struggled a bit. When Ron hadn't been able to even utter the first syllable without choking up in fear, Spike had slipped into came face and pinned him to the wall, fangs grazing his pale neck until he shouted it loud enough to be heard in the hall. A passing teacher had poked their heads in, eyes wide when they saw the vampire, teeth sunken by the students' neck.
"I think his methods are…different." Hermione finally admitted as the three left together, Ron's hand still clamped possessively over his neck. Harry grinned at her with a knowing look.
"At least he's gotten to you two where I haven't" Harry said to Ron, referring to the class. Ron looked over at him, eyes wide.
"Yes, I think I'm more afraid of him then I'll ever be of Voldemort," He said, craning to look once more at his neck, affirming that it was still puncture free. A couple of First years got wide eyes at the mention of the name, and scurried past.
"Yes, well, at least we won't be getting assignments from him. I hope." Hermione thought, guiltily thinking of the abused stack of homework still on her bed, waiting for her knowledgeable hand.
The three strolled out side, aiming for the lake. It was a warm day, and the little cloud coverage there was, was reflected in the serene lake. Settling themselves under an old oak, Hermione stretched herself out onto the ground, using her pack as a pillow as she looked up through the green leaves that shaded them.
"Do you still wonder who the Prince is, Harry?" Ron asked out of the blue. Hermione at once became rigid, and Harry was reminded of her disapproval.
"Yeah, a bit." He said truthfully. Ron nodded and rolled up the sleeves of his robes, leaning back into the tree and fetching a bag of nuts from his pack.
"Do you think Spike loves this Slayer girl?" Hermione asked, out of the blue as well, and Harry saw Ron roll his eyes.
"Hermione, enough of it, please. The man-vampire's taken. Get over it." Ron told her exasperatedly. Hermione nudged Ron's thigh with her foot and sighed.
"I was only wondering because it looks like she's the one that's taken!" Looking out towards the castle, Harry could see the Slayer walking the grounds in a set of newly acquired pink robes, frameless pink sunglasses perched on her nose and her blonde hair pulled back from her face.
"What is a Slayer, exactly?" Harry asked in a quiet voice. No one said anything for a moment, each entertaining their own ideas before Hermione got to her feet.
"I don't know, honestly, but I've got to go." Slinging her pack over her shoulder, she walked away from them, towards the castle. "I'll see you back at the Hall for Lunch!"
"I think I messed up Angel." Buffy said quietly to the vampire as they strolled the grounds. He too had been given an enchanted protection ring, and he held her arm as they walked slowly.
"How? Because you suspected something?" He squeezed her hand a bit to reassure her. "It was your nature. And his, we thought. You've got to get over it. Try to help him."
"Teach? You're not considering me teaching, do you? Cause so not a possibility. And with him? He hates me right now. I mean, Maybe I wasn't too wrong in thinking a soulless vampire would attack a bunch of kids, but I feel even worse that he was actually doing research."
"Research to get his soul back.." Angel said knowingly. Buffy gave him a funny look.
"No. It was the fact that he was doing research. Period. I never thought he'd do something like that, especially with out the chip." Angel stopped at once and stared at her.
"He's chipless?" he asked, amazed. Buffy smiled weakly and shrugged.
"In a way." At Angel's look she groaned. "Look, he got his soul once to prove that he loved me. And even then I hardly wanted to admit that he loved me. But these past few days I've admitted that he can love without a soul. I'm just not sure I can love him without it."
"Well, truth be told, if I were…y'know, a woman, which I'm totally not gay either, just a word from an old vamp gramp… I'd love unsouled Spike just as much." When Buffy looked away, sad, he took her chin and looked at her. "It's a matter of how much you love him with and without a soul. Do you love him now?" Buffy took a moment to answer, staring intently into Angel's eyes, thinking do hard it was almost painful.
"Yes, I-I think I do." She whispered. Angel smiled sadly.
"Yeah, I guess being all soulful isn't that rewarding any more." He said, brushing back a lock of her hair. "Gives you a conscience and doesn't let you hurt others. In a different way than the chip, too." Buffy started to cry, her hand covering Angel's as she watched the light dancing across his face, how unreal he looked. Angel ducked for a quick kiss, though Nibble clucked her tongue. Buffy giggled, pressing her forehead to his.
"Go tell him, Buffy." Angel Whispered. Buffy needed no other prompting as she rushed at top speed to the castle, Nibble flying uneasily behind her, straining and squawking.