Thursday, May 10, 2007

Fanfic - Reunion

Try as I might, I cannot conceive that Spike would not have contacted Buffy at all during Season 5 of Angel. This is Spike we’re talking about! Never static, always moving forward, unable not to act, this is the bloke who as a vampire with no soul felt impelled to tell Buffy he loved her, after all, a man’s gotta do what her can, gotta try. I understand that he might have had reservations, fears and doubts about contacting Buffy, diminishing the big heroic death and all but this wouldn’t have been enough to make him not act. Spike may have gotten a soul but it didn’t change him, he’s still all about the moving forward, the learning, the adapting, the risk taking. In my mind Spike would have contacted Buffy just after Cordelia died due to the charade of his ‘destiny’ being exposed and urged on by seeing Angel deal with his closest friend’s death (mind you, I don’t believe Cordelia is conventionally dead either, but that’s another story). My short story The Phone-Call details this (see earlier post to read this story). In my theory, for the second half of Angel season 5 Spike is in contact with Buffy, knows her location and about her body doubles but keeps the confidence from Angel. This is in keeping with the way he never corrected Xander or Angel when they derided his relationship with Buffy. Spike is able to keep his mouth shut because, he realises that his arguing with them won’t change their opinion and it still won’t change the fact that he did have a strong relationship with her. I also think this would make The Girl in Question (A 5.20) particularly funny. So I wanted to write my impression of Buffy and Spike’s first face to face meeting before it is dealt with in the comic, to fit it in with my own theory and just to compare it with what will become canon. This story takes place between Shells (A5.16) and Underneath (A5.17)
Written: 21/04/07
Disclaimer: no, I own none of the characters who appear in this story, they are the brilliant creations of Joss Whedon


Reunion by Tranquillity

Errand boy?
Errand boy indeed!
Spike was affronted; still irritated by Angel’s parting shot. He was nobody’s errand boy, least of all Angel's….

Uh, well, he was, technically. But only on his own terms!

“Spike will do it,” Angel had barked
“Spike bloody well will not!” he’d countered

But then, he’d heard that the destination was good old London town and he’d capitulated with suspicious speed.

Why the change of heart Angel had queried.

God, he can’t win! Not happy when he wouldn’t do it, not happy when he says he will, and besides, the Old Dart is home after all, so why shouldn’t he be happy to pay it a visit, nothing odd about that, nothing at all and they didn’t get to do anything when they were there recently either and he’ll take any excuse to get out of LA, even if only for a few days!

And the excuses were genuine, on one level. He really, really hated L.A. But it was not the real reason. The real reason he’d agreed to it was more, opportunistic in nature.

Once in the Motherland he’d completed his errand with efficient speed, reported as much to Angel then encouraged his Wolfram & Hart pilot to seek amusement in the seedy side of London, and, naturally, being an employee of Wolfram & Hart he’d been only too happy to oblige. As the pilot headed to the city’s dark underbelly, Spike headed for the rail yards.

And now, he found himself travelling north in a half-empty freight carriage, a far cry from the luxury jet he’d arrived in. Not to mention the vehicle Wolfram and Hart’s London office had offered for his convenience during his stay in town, necro-tempered glass and all. Spike had taken the car but parked it in the hotel lot and left it. Couldn’t risk Wolfram and Hart tracking his moves, knowing where he was going, who he was going to see.

After hours of not very satisfactory sleep and boredom he can smell the sunset. He opens the heavy sliding door a fraction and knows he’s nearly there. Towns and villages have given way to a craggy mauve landscape. He can’t help but think that isn’t that typical, a plan of his goes absolutely perfect and there’s not a soul to witness it! A couple of kilometres rattle by as he stands smoking leaning against the open door frame. Then he sees a particular landmark, flicks his cigarette out of the speeding train before bodily following suit.

He lands cleanly and pulls his coat close around him, flipping the collar up against the chill, not that he feels the cold, it’s just an instinctual reaction to the dank coolness of the Scottish evening. It’s been a while since he was in this part of the world, not since the Aberdeen orphanage incident of 1906. That was an age ago…
He picks up a familiar scent on the evening breeze. A scent he knows well. Its feint but trackable. He follows it. It’s instinctive.

Buffy patrolled the cemetery alone. Highly unlikely that there’d be any vampire activity, this place hadn’t seen a new grave in a couple of hundred years. It was bitterly cold too. She couldn’t really complain though, after all, she was the moron who’d volunteered for the solo mission. Giles had wanted to send a small team of girls, but nnnnoooo, Buffy had said she’d deal - more fool Buffy.

Trouble was, the castle was crawling with girls all vying for her attention, Xander amongst them exercising his witty charm, Dawn was complaining about the temperature. Again. Willow was teaching her magically inclined students to levitate objects, with mixed (and dangerous) success. Giles was enumerating the dire importance of locating a particular artefact that was essential for some ritual of some vampire cult. He’d come all the way from wherever, must be important. How was it that in amongst all this chaos Buffy felt….

Alone?

The cemetery was, excuse the pun, deathly quiet. She didn’t mind. It was good to escape the over-crowded confines of the castle. Being commander-in-chief of a population of Slayers was amazing and rewarding and amazing and…intense. She felt like she was on duty twenty-four seven. Kind of ironic that patrolling by her self was like an escape. She rounded a corner and came across a vampire digging up an ancient grave site.

“Now that’s hardly in the spirit of Rest in Peace is it?”

The vampire turned quickly, startled to be interrupted. He instantly adopted his game-face and lunged at her with ferocity. This was just what Buffy needed, a spot of violence before bed.

She could have staked him quick. Her opponent, besides being really ugly was not much of a fighter. Instead she deliberately prolonged the battle, punching and kicking just to give herself a practical workout. When he managed to get a lucky hit that sent her stake flying out of reach she punished him by sending an angry elbow into his nose.

Suddenly, in her peripheral vision she saw another figure. Great, a second vampire and she without her stake! She punched the unsightly vampire sending him flying backwards then turned to look at the new arrival.

“Hello gorgeous.”

Buffy froze momentarily, stunned, allowing the original vampire to connect a lucky fist to her chin, causing her to stumbling sideways in an ungainly fashion.

Buffy recovered quickly and engaged the Mr. hideous in a series of pummelling blows.

“Can I help?”
“Stake!” Buffy motioned, pointing in the direction in which her weapon had flew earlier then hoisted her opponent by his silken lapel and subjected his face to a series of harsh, blinding strikes with her balled fist. Suddenly he turned to dust in her hands to reveal standing before her brandishing the stake in his hand,

Spike

Buffy smiled. “Hello gorgeous,” then reached for him.

The kiss lasted a tad longer than ‘hello’ and may have involved a bit of tongue. Neither complained.

the end

1 comment:

Anonymous said...

Reunions between Buffy and Spike are among my favorite subjects for Buffy fan fiction, and this one, though I enjoyed it, left me, as always, wanting more. Thank you for the time and effort you have put into the story, and thank you for sharing it with your readers.

White Avenger