Disclaimer:
All characters from the BtVS universe are the property of
Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, etc. etc., but if they did belong
to us we'd be far nicer to Spike.
Author's Note: Apart
from the prologue, the story starts after Older and Far
Away, but before As You Were. It will then continue hopefully
in line with the episodes as far as Hell's Bells. After
that it goes off on its own merry way.
This was my first attempt
at FanFic, in fact it was the first time I'd written anything
in about fifteen years. When it was posted originally it was completely unbeta-ed, but I and t_geyer, my beta of the past four years, are going to try to touch it up a little now that some kind person has nominated it at one of the award sites... Hopefully, we'll get it finished before the judges get to it.
Prologue
The woman stood at the window, framed by
the gradually encroaching flames. She clutched the smaller
female figure to her breast as if to protect her from the
blaze. Her original family were all gone, but as far as she was concerned this was her family now, to care for as well as she was
able, which wasn't all that well. She couldn't even
really look after herself.
Spike loved her with all his heart. More
than that, he understood her. Only he could understand
her and what she had been through.
His grand-sire had been drawn to her years
before when she was a beautiful young innocent, but one
with exceptional gifts. He had taken her innocence, and
filled her world with pain and loss. She had died and then
clawed her way up from the grave, all of which was just a fraction
of the events that had combined to make her who she now
was, hardened in some ways, and broken in others.
So now Spike devoted his life to caring
for her. It was his responsibility. He had made it so. He
felt he owed it to her. His life before he met her had been
worthless, wasted. She was his saviour. He would devote
his entire existence to protecting her and making her happy.
Yet, he was helpless to protect her now
from the rising flames or from the lynch-mob which surrounded
the building which had been their home for the past six
months. In fact, he wasn't even in the same section of the
city.
He sat in an almost bare room. A cowled
figure faced him across a worn desk, on which rested a large
shallow silver bowl. Behind the desk, some sort of ceremonial
circle had been laid out using a fine silver
powder. Spike gazed in horror at the scene reflected on
the surface of the bowl of black ink.
"This is coming to pass as you watch. If
you wish to save her you must be prepared to pay... and the
price could be high."
Spike's eyes were cold as diamond chips,
and his voice was almost a feral growl. "Get her out of
there! Now!"
Unintimidated, the figure opened one of
the desk drawers and withdrew a sheet of parchment. Most
of the sheet was already filled with writing, but the figure
raised a mottled hand, spread it over the page. When he
pulled his hand back the page was completely filled, except
for the space for the signatory. The demon reached again
into the drawer, withdrawing a feather quill.
"It's customary to sign these things in
your own blood."
Without reading the contract, Spike used
a nail to tear open a vein on the back of his right hand.
He dipped the quill into the cut and scrawled his name across
the bottom of the page.
"Now get her out or I will rip your head
off, scoop out your brains and use the inside of your skull
for an ashtray!"
The mage examined the signature on the
contract. Seemingly satisfied, he rose from the desk and
crossed over to stand beside the circle, and then he began
to chant.
Spike returned his gaze to the bowl on
the desk. Even in the seconds it had taken to sign the contract,
the flames had claimed more of the building. He could no
longer see into the first floor room where the woman had
been, and all he could do was wait to see if the mage's
spell would produce the desired result. He held an unnecessary
breath as the mage completed his incantation.
Drusilla appeared within the bounds of
the circle, Miss Edith clutched to her breast. Spike rushed
to her and swept her cowering form into the safety of his
arms, lifting her like a groom carrying his bride across
the threshold. He murmured soothing noises to her and, when
she had quieted, he waltzed her around the room, still cradled
in his arms, until she laughed out loud.
"Miss Edith said you wouldn't let us burn."
"No, love." He lowered her feet to the
floor whilst still keeping one arm around her back. He kissed
her tenderly on the mouth, then soothingly brushed away a stray hair
from her brow. "I'd never let anything bad happen to you,
ever."
Only then did he return his attention to
the figure once more seated behind the desk.
"You!" He swaggered over to the table.
"You knew this was gong to happen, didn't you?"
"A seer always finds it most difficult
to predict their own fate. By the time you decided to consult
me as to the meaning of her visions, it was already too
late... or perhaps if you had not come to me you would have
been there to prevent her from taking the child and there
would have been no mob, no fire... Who knows? The fates can
be cruel."
Spike pulled the contract back towards
him, reading the text for the first time. He felt as if
he had been outsmarted, used somehow. He was tempted to
tear the contract to shreds and eat the mage for tea. However,
the contract itself was probably magical and the mage-seer's
reputation suggested he would be more than able to defend
himself. Magic was something Spike preferred not to mess
with. Somehow any time he had things had not gone that well.
Besides the terms of the contract weren't
all that bad.
In exchange for the services provided this
day, namely
preventing the demise of one loved one;
the signatory shall provide goods or services to the
bearer of this contract upon demand.
If taken in goods or currency, the fee
shall represent no more than one
tenth part of the total net worth of the
signatory. Alternatively, payment may be taken in the form
of services to be provided by the signatory over a period
not exceeding one
week. *
Signed
William
the Bloody
*The following standard clauses apply if
payment is taken in the form of services.
The signatory may not be expected to perform
any task inherently involving permanent physical damage
to themselves, but may be required to perform services where
there is a risk of harm, not exceeding an approximate 25%
probability.
Any failure on the part of the signatory
to meet the terms of this contract will result in the invocation
of the three-fold rule.
"Okay Mage-Boy, so what does this three-fold
thing at the bottom mean then?"
"It means, Bleach-Boy, that today your
lady love was saved. If you don't pay up when the time comes,
then you can count on three of the people you care most
about coming to a painful and untimely end."
Spike's mouth creased into his trademark
smirk. "Fine." Spike reckoned that perhaps he hadn't done
too badly on this deal after all. At the very worst he'd
bought some extra time for Dru. Hell, the last time there
were three people in this world that he cared about had
been over a hundred years ago. Dru was the only one. She
was his world. With that he resolved to put all thought
of the contract behind him, at least until the day someone
asked him to make good on it.
"Come on, kitten. It's time we found a
new home. Prague's no good to us no more."
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