Kinda late in the day for posting. I’ll be posting the first chapter here and then the rest at my journal and Elysian Fields as they’re completed. Sorry about that, but RL has sucked massively for the past few months.
Title: Some Kind of Magic
Author: spikeslovebite
Rating: NC-17 (eventually)
Beta: Megan and Rae. Also mucho thankies to Mary for the read thru
Summary: A seriously AU romp through Joss’ Wishverse. Buffy’s back…again. She’s been resurrected for the sole purpose of defeating the Master. Spike’s in town looking for a little revenge on his dysfunctional family. With the help of some bizarre allies and a little magic, can they work together to break the Master’s hold over Sunnydale?
Disclaimer: Joss’ world, but I like my version bettuh… so NYAHHHH!!!
CHAPTER ONE
The battle was short but brutal and the only one left standing in the aftermath looked positively incongruous amongst the carnage. Slight of frame, almost delicate, the Slayer scanned the remains of the restaurant until her eyes lighted on the demon responsible. In spite of her ire, her expression remained impassive until one of his scaly little minions darted forward and dropped a box at her feet.
Scowling ferociously, Buffy rattled off some foul words in the demon’s language and nudged the box of fur balls at her feet into a mewing crescendo. “What the hell is this? We agreed on cash money for this job, Methlor,” she bit out.
Methlor tried to look imposing. He was tall, with a head full of waving, tentacle-like appendages, a mouthful of razor sharp teeth, and an overwhelming odor of decayed fish wafting about him. Buffy hated having to deal with him, but he was the second-in-command to her closest ally, so she held her breath and suffered.
“The deal didn’t include a dead sacrifice. You’re lucky to get paid at all—”
His lofty speech was cut off abruptly by the point of the Slayer’s blade at his throat. Methlor quickly rethought his strategy when he saw the icy chill of her green eyes. Struggling to retain what little dignity he had left, he gestured to his aide. “Pay the Slayer,” he ordered haughtily.
She snatched the large wad of cash and tucked it inside her vest. When the toady made to pick up the box of kittens, though, her blade swished. Severed tentacles dropped squirming to the ground while Methlor’s assistant screamed in agony.
“Leave the felines,” she snapped.
“But—”
“You got a problem with that, Methlor?” Her golden head tipped to the side and those green eyes went wide and guileless. “We could always take this up with Hrexon, ya know. Let her know you’re trying to double-cross her.”
Methlor blanched at the mention of his queen’s name. Hrexon was a most benevolent ruler…until someone thwarted her. Orange and green tentacles waved around his head in a way that he hoped was soothing rather than threatening.
“No need for that, Slayer. I’ve honored your bargain with my beloved queen,” he pontificated.
She let loose a snort of disbelief, her scarred lip curling in derision. “Yeah, sure you have. And the second I turn my back, you’re gonna set your evil little cohorts loose on me.”
Methlor paled further. That was exactly what he’d been planning to do. Unleash his small army, kill the slayer, get back the exorbitant amount of cash and the box of kittens then fob Hrexon off with an inventive tale of treason. It had seemed like the perfect plan.
The Slayer smirked and ran her eyes over the large number of demons behind Hrexon’s right-hand man. Not a one of them could meet her cold gaze, but their hands tightened around their weapons in determination anyway.
“Fine and dandy by me, guys, but ask yourself this…are you all ready to die today?” When none of them replied, she shrugged and unsheathed her sword with a flourish, waving it in front of her. “Okay, boys…let’s make some sushi!”
***
In a hovel directly across the street, another confrontation was brewing.
Just his luck that the one time he didn’t cheat, he’d be accused of it. Still, seven bags of prime human claret were at stake and Spike refused to back down. He’d won them fair and square, and if he was careful, the blood would last him nearly two weeks.
Of course, he had to make it out of there alive first.
“I’m saying you put the mojo on that bird. No one wins that many matches in a row!” The overweight fledge jabbed a finger at Spike’s rooster and got a vicious peck for his trouble. “See? It’s possessed!”
Spike rolled his eyes. Some vampires should never be sired, especially idiots like this one. Normally, he kept a low profile and did everything in his power to avoid the Master’s minions, but this bunch—especially the fat one—had been bragging all night that they had blood to bet. It wasn’t his fault they’d bet on the wrong bird. He pocketed his precious winnings, careful to keep a wary eye on fat boy and his thirsty friends.
“Quit your whining, Chubbs. The best bird won.” Brody, owner of the fine establishment, slid a bottle of whiskey across the bar to Spike with a look of warning. “Now, take your ugly-assed friends and get outtah here, you’re stinkin’ the place up.”
“I ain’t goin’ nowhere without that blood,” Chubbs declared mulishly as his buddies lined up behind him.
It was hard to look menacing with a speckled rooster tucked up under one arm, but Spike managed it. He lit a fag with his free hand and stepped right up to stare the newbie down, eyes flashing yellow as the muscles in his jaw flexed with anger.
“You wanna be careful who you accuse of cheating around here, Tubbs,” he growled around the cigarette clamped between his teeth while the smoke curled around them. Seeing a fight was imminent, Brody hastily began to move his precious bottles under the bar.
“It’s Chubbs. C-H-U-B-B-S!”
“Tubbs. Chubbs. Whatever. They both mean the same bloody thing.” The stake dropped from his sleeve and into his hand in a smooth, practiced move. Before fat boy could blink, his ashes were wafting along the dirty floor. “You need to lose some weight.”
He was able to take out two more before the idiots realized they should be fighting back, but by then the fight was on. The other patrons joined in and Spike howled with glee as he smashed and bashed his way to the back door, the unfortunate rooster still squawking and flapping under his arm.
***
Two bars. Two battles. Both spilled out into the alley at the same time. Each lost in the heat of their own skirmish, slayer and vampire collided in the middle, sending fur and feathers flying as they fell in a tangle of thrashing limbs.
Spike frantically grabbed his bird by one leg while Buffy managed to snatch up the last kitten before it could scamper off. The two stared at each other, bemused, as the fight raged on around them. Catching sight of the squirming, hissing feline, Spike couldn’t help the words that tumbled out.
“Nice pussy,” he said with a smirk.
“Impressive cock,” she fired back, eyeing the disgruntled rooster. A shadow fell over them and she looked up. “Look out!”
Heeding her warning shout, Spike barely managed to roll out from under the horned demon that was determined to stomp his head into the ground. The rooster wasn’t so fortunate. With a final cock-a-doodle-doo, it met its gory demise beneath the demons huge foot.
“Aww!” Buffy made a sympathetic face. “He just stomped on your poor cock.”
Shooting her an exasperated look for her ill-timed wit, Spike leapt to his feet and began to pummel the demon that had fricasseed his prize-winning bird. “Bloody wanker!” he growled, pounding the creature senseless before ripping off its head and spitting on its lifeless corpse. “That bird was worth more than your soddin’ life!”
The fight had escalated into utter chaos around her, but Buffy couldn’t move. She watched, completely transfixed by the sight of the enraged vampire as he tore the much larger demon to messy bits and then proceeded to take his remaining ire out on anything that dared approach him.
A huge, delighted grin lit her face. It was him. He was the one, the warrior she’d been searching for.
The blade of an axe suddenly whizzing past her nose brought her to her senses and she scrambled to her feet, dropping the kitten and shooing it away as Methlor and what remained of his men crowded out the doorway after her.
“There she is! Seize the traitor,” Methlor boomed out, drawing the unwelcome attention of the other combatants.
“Traitor?” Buffy snarled. “Methlor, you slimy, over-grown bottom feeder, you’d better hope you get to Hrexon before I do!”
“You heard her; she intends to assassinate the Queen! Get her!”
Buffy tucked and rolled across the ground, sweeping up her discarded sword. She held the gore-spattered blade before her and made a ‘come on’ gesture with her fingers at the encroaching horde as she edged backwards to give herself room to maneuver. Her back slammed into something hard and a quick glance over her shoulder showed the blond vampire was at her back.
His broad shoulders pressed hard against hers as he brandished a purloined axe dripping with blood in front of him. “You sure do throw a hell of a party, pet.”
“Well, I wouldn’t want anyone to feel left out. Besides, you get credit for half of this little soiree,” she quipped. “So, champ, odds aren’t looking good for us here. Got a plan?”
“Better,” he snarled, catching her free hand in a painful grip. “Got a car. The black one at the end of this alley. Ready?”
Ready or not, she stumbled after him as he broke through the circle of demons with a blood-curdling howl. Once they were free of them, Buffy easily kept pace with him as they barreled towards what looked like an abandoned vehicle.
“This is a car?”
“Oi! Just get in, you ungrateful bint, they’re right behind us!” he shouted.
She did as he ordered, diving in and scooting over so he could follow. He had it started and in gear before he’d even shut his door, and they roared away just as the mob closed in on them.
Catching sight of Methlor’s enraged face, Buffy blew him a cheery kiss and then flipped him off.
TBC
Originally posted at http://seasonal-spuffy.livejournal.com/206618.html
