btvs AU -- season two
So I rewatched the second season of Buffy, and this popped into my head. Damned plotbunnies. It even came with a title. Picks up right at the end of the season finale. (Is unbeta'd and still very rough)
Thoughtless to the Stars
"God, he's going to kill her."
For an instant, Spike wavers between taking Dru and running and going to the Slayer's rescue, but he doesn't debate long. He's never been the sort to cut and run, and if the whole world's going to get sucked into Hell anyway, he'll damn well see Angelus dead first - no pun intended.
Besides, if the Slayer's still fighting, there might be a chance. The idea of that miserable bastard winning sets Spike's teeth on edge.
Especially the thought of Angelus beating the Slayer.
He's not sure why that last bothers him so much, but it does. He's killed two Slayers himself, and Dru bagged one less than twenty-four hours ago, but still, it bothers him.
Slayers are both art and artist to Spike's eyes, beautiful, shining, death-dealing girls, warrior goddesses with a core of fire and darkness that owns them as completely as the light does. He was half in love with the two he'd taken, still is, a little, and he's seen enough of Buffy Summers to know that she outshines them both. This particular Slayer is steel and sunlight, flame and shadow, and the thing sticking in his throat is that Angelus doesn't deserve this final victory over her, the miserable bugger.
He never thought he'd see the day when he'd back the Slayer over his sire, not when he's already got what he wants out of the deal, but if nothing else, he's not about to let Angelus succeed where he's failed so many times.
In the end it's simple. Spike has an enemy's respect for the Slayer, but he hates Angelus, and he's always been ruled by hatred and love. Drusilla will be out for a while yet; she's the only vampire he's ever come across who can be choked unconcious. He supposes she hasn't realised yet that it's impossible, but he certainly isn't about to tell her different. It's proven useful over the past century.
With a shrug, he carries her to the deSoto, buckling her in for good measure. She has trouble with seatbelts, does Drusilla, and he doesn't want her waking up and taking off. She's just a bit upset with him at the moment.
"I'll be back soon, baby, he tells her, caressing her cheek fondly. "Once Angelus is good and dead." An anticipatory grin spreading over his face, Spike turns on his heel and back into the fight.
It's almost over by the time he gets there. Angelus has the Slayer backed against a wall, her weapon out of reach on the floor and his sword less than an inch from her face. Spike's had the girl in similar positions himself, and it amuses him to think that this time he'll be the one to snatch her back from the edge.
He circles cautiously closer, sticking to the shadows for caution's sake and moving so quietly that Angelus would only be able to hear him if he were actively listening. He isn't, though; instead, he's focused entirely on the Slayer, who looks more broken than Spike has ever seen her, eyes closed against coming death.
"No friends," Angelus is saying, sword-point making little circles in front of the Slayer's closed eyes, "no weapons, no hope. Take all that away, and what's left?"
He shoves the sword at her face, and there's no way Spike can get there to stop it, even though he's already crossing the space between himself and Angelus with the tire iron coming up.
"Me," the Slayer says, opening her eyes, catching Angelus' blade between her hands and shoving the hilt into his face. It's a perfect moment, made even more so by the crunch of Spike's tire iron into the side of Angelus' head less than half a second later.
"And me," he says, hitting Angelus in the knee for good measure. "You really should learn to guard your perimeter, Peaches."
***
Thoughtless to the Stars
"God, he's going to kill her."
For an instant, Spike wavers between taking Dru and running and going to the Slayer's rescue, but he doesn't debate long. He's never been the sort to cut and run, and if the whole world's going to get sucked into Hell anyway, he'll damn well see Angelus dead first - no pun intended.
Besides, if the Slayer's still fighting, there might be a chance. The idea of that miserable bastard winning sets Spike's teeth on edge.
Especially the thought of Angelus beating the Slayer.
He's not sure why that last bothers him so much, but it does. He's killed two Slayers himself, and Dru bagged one less than twenty-four hours ago, but still, it bothers him.
Slayers are both art and artist to Spike's eyes, beautiful, shining, death-dealing girls, warrior goddesses with a core of fire and darkness that owns them as completely as the light does. He was half in love with the two he'd taken, still is, a little, and he's seen enough of Buffy Summers to know that she outshines them both. This particular Slayer is steel and sunlight, flame and shadow, and the thing sticking in his throat is that Angelus doesn't deserve this final victory over her, the miserable bugger.
He never thought he'd see the day when he'd back the Slayer over his sire, not when he's already got what he wants out of the deal, but if nothing else, he's not about to let Angelus succeed where he's failed so many times.
In the end it's simple. Spike has an enemy's respect for the Slayer, but he hates Angelus, and he's always been ruled by hatred and love. Drusilla will be out for a while yet; she's the only vampire he's ever come across who can be choked unconcious. He supposes she hasn't realised yet that it's impossible, but he certainly isn't about to tell her different. It's proven useful over the past century.
With a shrug, he carries her to the deSoto, buckling her in for good measure. She has trouble with seatbelts, does Drusilla, and he doesn't want her waking up and taking off. She's just a bit upset with him at the moment.
"I'll be back soon, baby, he tells her, caressing her cheek fondly. "Once Angelus is good and dead." An anticipatory grin spreading over his face, Spike turns on his heel and back into the fight.
It's almost over by the time he gets there. Angelus has the Slayer backed against a wall, her weapon out of reach on the floor and his sword less than an inch from her face. Spike's had the girl in similar positions himself, and it amuses him to think that this time he'll be the one to snatch her back from the edge.
He circles cautiously closer, sticking to the shadows for caution's sake and moving so quietly that Angelus would only be able to hear him if he were actively listening. He isn't, though; instead, he's focused entirely on the Slayer, who looks more broken than Spike has ever seen her, eyes closed against coming death.
"No friends," Angelus is saying, sword-point making little circles in front of the Slayer's closed eyes, "no weapons, no hope. Take all that away, and what's left?"
He shoves the sword at her face, and there's no way Spike can get there to stop it, even though he's already crossing the space between himself and Angelus with the tire iron coming up.
"Me," the Slayer says, opening her eyes, catching Angelus' blade between her hands and shoving the hilt into his face. It's a perfect moment, made even more so by the crunch of Spike's tire iron into the side of Angelus' head less than half a second later.
"And me," he says, hitting Angelus in the knee for good measure. "You really should learn to guard your perimeter, Peaches."
***