Fic: First Meetings
Title: First Meetings
Creator: drizzlydaze
Rating: G
Setting: AU Wishverse
Word count: 992
Prompt: Prompt tag. Inspired by The Dance Begins by alwaysjbj.
A/N: How Spike and Buffy meet... in the Wishverse.
It was the Slayer.
Bloody fledglings couldn’t identify her, sense her, but Spike could. Dancing there with her hands in the air, looked like she didn’t have a care in the world-but her eyes, those darting serious eyes so at odds with her ditzy smile, were scanning the club. She pulled a vamp in with a deadly smile, and slid a stake into his chest as easily as a knife through butter. There was a cloud of dust that went unnoticed in the packed dim room.
But this girl wasn’t having fun with her seductive routine. Spike would wager this wasn’t her usual modus operandi. Not a usual stakeout, pardon the pun. Not hunting. And underneath that serious gaze was murderous intent.
She was looking for a massacre.
It was easy enough for Spike to connect the dots. She was looking for her mother’s murderer. That wouldn’t do. Spike would be her nemesis, the Big Bad; not Angelus’ get, that idiot Penn.
Her green eyes flashed, and she slid through the crowd. The Slayer tapped the vamp’s back, a sandy-haired dead man who couldn’t have been turned more than a year ago. He turned and grinned when he saw her, and that was how he died.
Quick work.
Wrong vamp.
The Slayer’s eyes grew satisfied, then emptied of emotion in that cold Slayer way. Business settled; time to continue that leisurely trundle to certain death. Wouldn’t be nearly as fun as Nikki, then. Or the Chinese firecracker-she at least had passion in her sword. Maybe he’d have to hit her personally, close to home, so she’d have that determined flare in her eyes again. Or maybe he’d tell her that it was Penn, not that minion decoy, get her all worked up… but no. Spike wanted centre stage. He’d only get it if she believed her vengeance done.
She spotted him.
He slipped out of the club, and she followed.
“Been lookin’ forward to this, pet.”
“What’s an accent like you doing in Cleveland? Oh wait, the Hellmouth attracts evil like flies. Drop like flies too.”
“Never did expect you to know me.” He lit up a fag.
“Never did ask.”
“Spike’s the name. William the Bloody. Slayer of Slayers.”
“Vamps sure favour the fancy titles. Slayer of Slayers. Corny, if you ask me.”
“Killed two.”
“Not exactly helping your case.”
“Kind of the point.”
They moved at the same time, swift and sure, matching each other’s blows as though they had been sparring partners for an age. Oh, he could dance all night with this one. Take back everything he’d thought-she had fire, she was fire. That business-like demeanour of hers soon melted away when she realized he was no ordinary vamp, fighting quick and lethal. And she was no ordinary Slayer.
They broke apart at once, still at the ready. The Slayer’s eyes sparkled with life, though her mouth remained in an indifferent line. “William the Bloody. I’ll remember that,” she promised. “Messy blows and lazy blocks.”
“Oh, you’re one to talk.” He shifted out of game face to give the proper sardonic look. “Think I didn’t notice that sloppy high kick?”
Then she was in front of him in a flash, leg whipping up with deadly accuracy. He stumbled back and clutched his nose. “Sloppy,” she scoffed. “I don’t think so.” She rushed forth with her stake like lightning, but Spike caught in and leaned in in one smooth motion.
His bones crunched as his fangs descended an inch from her neck. “Sloppy,” he repeated in a low voice.
If she moved, he was sure to bite in an instant and rip her throat out. If she didn’t… well, he would still bite. So she stood stock-still, weighing her options as her heart pounded though she remained outwardly expressionless. The hand that gripped the stake was still in his firm vice, so no chance of just sliding it in. Her other hand was pinned against the rough brick wall.
She felt the first prick of his fangs touching the side of her neck and reacted, jamming up her knee and pushing him back.
He fell back again, cursing.
“What can I say? Knee-jerk reaction,” Buffy tossed out lightly. She twirled the stake to get a firmer grip and threw it at his heart.
But he caught it between cusses. “Not that bloody easy.”
“You’re awfully talkative for a vamp.”
“Just tryin’ to match your cute little quips. Don’t seem to suit that business Slayer persona you got goin’ on.”
They lunged at each other again.
“Then again,” Spike mused as he threw a vicious right hook. “You do have the teen bopper cheerleading name. Or a stripper. Same difference.”
“Your name,” Buffy countered, “is Spike. Overcompensating, much?”
“Nothin’ to overcompensate for, luv. As I’m sure you’ve noticed.”
“Ew.”
“That the best you can do? Can’t expect high wit from a chit named Buffy, I s’pose. What was your mum thinking?”
The quip fell from his lips without much thought of the implications, but Spike found himself suddenly thrust against the brick wall.
A stake was pressed against his chest.
“Not very smart,” she said shortly, and her tone was cold and cutting. “Think it’s time to stop playing around, vampire.”
Any sudden movement, leap for freedom, and she would stake him. But he wasn’t one to be careful or resigned; he’d fight. He’d fight dirty, though. “You got the wrong vamp.” He knew she wasn’t going to draw the moment out much longer, so he spoke quickly and urgently. “The vamp you dusted in the club, he didn’t kill your mum.”
“Then who? And why should I believe you?”
“Could offer you proof positive. And if you staked me now, you’d always wonder.”
“Who?” she repeated.
“Let me go.”
That was how they met, how it began. Far cry from how it ended-or not, depending on your point of view.
Either way, the dance begins.
This prompted Lovers' Meeting/Journey's End by brutti_ma_buoni