Pack and Something More

Pack and Something More
Word Count: 3,853
calikocat

Author’s Notes: Ookay, time for part one/chapter one, whatever. The crossover with Wolf’s Rain is more apparent here. Sorry about any confusion with the Prologue, it was supposed to make you go wha? ^^; :slinks away:

XXX

She’d been dead for years. In place of what had once been a vibrant young girl full of hopes of the future there was nothing. Green eyes that had at one time been the color of dark forests were dull and void of life, like pond scum, dead and lifeless. Those dead eyes took in the reflection in the hall mirror. Dark hair hung in mangled strands…she couldn’t remember the last time she’d washed it. Not that it mattered. Nothing mattered. She still wasn’t sure why she was looking at the pathetic creature in the reflective glass. It only had pity for her. What was the point in having mirrors in this god-forsaken house anyway? They were a nuisance, showing her what the world saw, the horror, the pain…the marred flesh. And that was on a good day.

Years of shutting herself away, that had been the first thing she learned. Hide in a corner; either in life or in her mind and things weren’t so bad. If she pretended not to be there she was ignored. Which was a blessing; she didn’t know what she’d do if he still wanted to touch her. Luckily all he wanted was the bottle. Thank god for small favors.

She could remember, if only briefly, other times when the fog lifted and she could see, could breathe again. They were few and far between but they happened all the same. The first time had been when the boy was born, some old hope at happiness had surfaced only to be beaten and drowned out of her by that man and the bottle respectfully. More than a decade passed before her mind cleared again when the boy was fifteen, the only reason she had been dragged out of her internal prison was the desperate call for pack, for family that he had cried out for. Something had happened to her pup and while she was coherent she comforted him, doing what she could, knowing she couldn’t make up for years of neglect. But it was the best she could do. She answered his howl of loneliness with one of her own and with veiled shock they ran together, hunted, bonded. And then she slipped away again.

The next time she surfaced had been the day of her pup’s graduation. The building power was enough to pull her from the unconscious confines placed on her spirit. Slipping into a run she made it to the school in time to join the battle, catching sight of her offspring and letting the strange sensation of pride slip into her. And she hoped with all she had that he would be stronger than she had proven to be. Hoped that the gifts genetics bestowed upon him would be of more help to him than they had to her. Hoped that he was human enough not let the bottle destroy him, confine him. After the defeat of the mayor she was still enough of herself that they again ran together, the call of pack and family echoing in triumph through the otherwise quiet streets of Sunny Dale. Demons were scarce that night, none willing to brave the outdoors when the howls of such wolves rang out into the night following the destruction of the High School.

But that was months ago and she had slipped away again, back into her walking coma as the boy had called it. She held on as long as she could that time though, the call of pack and home had been strong, but the haze returned and smothered the beast with the poison of the bottle the man shoved at her. And her pup mourned for the loss of her and as she slipped away again she too mourned for his loss, and her own. She was so tired of losing herself.

But she was already broken, so it didn’t matter. Once she was faced with the chains of the bottle nothing mattered.

But now something was different…something shook her fully awake. She looked in the mirror again and blinked in confusion as something clicked in her head. Ancient habits surfaced and pushed through the haze that she’d become accustomed to. The lingering affects of alcohol were shoved away and she was left with a clear focus, something she’d hadn’t had in years, not including the nights of hunting with her pup. What the hell? She never felt like this anymore, not since that night, she could still feel the building collapsing around her.

The first thing about battle she had learned was that humans were not the enemy. And even if humans were the enemy, harming them was not tolerated. Never hurt your own kind. The words whispered faintly and she shoved the memory back. What did those old fools know? But champions weren’t meant to choose who they fought for, they were only told to fight. Damn the council, if they had any sense…god, if Nathan were here now he’d understand…what she lived with wasn’t human. Humans weren’t exactly her kind anyway. And it was time she did something about it…it was time to face a different type of demon, one in the guise of a man.

A crash echoed through the house; a crash from the basement. Oh god. What had that man done now? What was he going to do? Would he…would he really hurt the boy like that…is that why he hadn’t touched her in years. Had she sunken so far into her own personal hell that she had failed the one little bright speck that should have been the light of her worthless life? Was it even possible to fail someone that much?

Years of conditioning slid off her like flimsy silk and her training came to the forefront…and she reveled in it. Felt truly alive for the first time in…in forever, both the wolf and the warrior breathing deeply. But there was no time to rejoice, she had to move, had to protect what was hers. For the first time in years she was going to fight back, protect what was precious from the monster that ruled this castle.

Quickly and quietly she moved from the hall, not bothering to look back at the mirror. For if she had she would have stayed, shocked at the sudden change. Pond scum eyes were vibrant and alive again, crackling with energy, like the trees whipping back and forth in the middle of a storm. She was back, if only for a moment. But she moved on, not caring how she looked, only caring about what was happening below her feet.

In moments she was at the door to the basement. It was locked; a flick of her wrist and the door broke from a strength long forgotten. And then she was down the stairs, moving faster that she should have arriving at the bottom, dizzy and confused.

Vampire! Her mind screamed, but her eyes couldn’t make sense of the scene before her. There was a vampire, a vampire in her basement, male if her sense of smell was still working. How the hell had that happened? She hadn’t invited any vamps in, she’d never been that wasted. Could the man have done it? But why to the basement? And where was the boy?

The man ignored her, to busy with his…work. His dirty fists swung back over and over, pummeling the slim body that cringed in the far corner. There was a tinge of blood in the still air coming from the vampire, he was bleeding. And why the hell would a vampire cringe before a drunk like Tony Harris?

And that alone forced her to stand in wonder. Why isn’t the vampire fighting back? Suddenly she was tired, so very tired, but it was an old feeling, she’d been out of the game too long. She didn’t understand why the vampire wasn’t defending itself, and she was almost beyond caring. But whatever she did she’d better do it now, besides, it wouldn’t be the first time she’d saved a demon.

And she did. She moved so fast that neither man nor vampire knew what had happened. The vampire, somewhat surprised that the beating had stopped, was peeking passed raised arms to peer at the small woman in wary relief, then confusion as he realized the tiny female had thrown the man across the room. Not that he minded the tossing about such a poor excuse as his attacker.

The man hit the concrete wall with a thud and stared blankly at his wife…the little brown mouse that never once had defied him.

He narrowed blood shot brown eyes at her and snarled, forcing all his contempt for the small woman into his voice. It came out ugly, venomous and hissing like a snake. “What are you doing Jessica?”

Stormy green orbs raked over him and he nearly cringed as her husky voice did the same, nearly low enough to be called a growl. “What are you doing Tony?”

Tony made it to his feet and stalked over to her, determined to be the man and keep the bitch in line. “Teaching the faggot a lesson; I thought I beat yours into you years ago Mouse.”

He smirked as for a second she seemed to fold into herself, but after a visible tremble, like a dog shaking off water, she straightened and turned her burning eyes onto him again. “Get upstairs, and get out of the house.”

“You giving me orders? Mouse?”

Her eyes flashed like lightning and in a second she was in his face a howl of rage bubbling from her throat as she lifted him off his feet and dragged him toward the door. The vampire; though bloodied and confused was there in a moment and managed to open it without going up in flames. And with a great heave she threw one bewildered and shit-scared Tony Harris out into the sunlit yard. His heavy body flew several feet before hitting the ground and rolling to a stop and he barely managed to look back. He regretted it instantly; the Mouse had found some teeth after all these years. She was snarling like those gangs on PCP and he shuddered and stayed on the ground, content to play the part of discarded refuse.

xxx

Spike peered outside at the drunken git that lay in the sunlight, scared and not daring to move from the dirt he lay in. Not that the vampire blamed the tosser; the small woman beside him was scarier than the slayer during PMS. He wondered if he should grab a blanket from the boy’s bed and make for the nearest sewer access.

She turned to look at him, dirty brown hair mangled and stringy, but he could see the beauty she’d once been in those eyes. They were eyes that spoke of wild things long dead but slowly rising from the grave and gazing about in wonder.

“Come upstairs vampire, the blinds are closed.” She glanced at the man cowering, practically playing dead, in the dirt outside. “Lock the door; don’t want him in here again.” She moved passed him then with wavering grace, almost like she was trying to move to some long forgotten dance and her body was stiff in it’s remembrance. And he caught a whiff of something that sent his senses reeling; the scent of a slayer and something else…wolves?

Hiding his confusion, something he was very good at; he closed and locked the basement door and gazed after the tiny woman who moved up the stairs, they didn’t creak once, not even the loose one. Spike rubbed his face and winced at the bruises he knew were forming, licking almost absently at his busted lip. What the bloody hell is goin’ on?

Moving at his normal pace he sauntered up the stairs and into the kitchen. He’d never been upstairs before, not that he was interested, but still he gazed around to make sure it was safe. Didn’t want to walk into a patch of sunlight by accident now did he.

Steely blue eyes met a much calmer forest green, a deep green like a beast lying down to rest but still ready to snap should another predator come around. What really got his attention though was the first aide kit the woman was sorting through.

“Sit.”

He looked at her in disbelief, snarled his lip at her even. She rolled her eyes and put a hand on her hip, looking suddenly younger and older at the same time. “Yeah, I get it. Big bad vampire, well you know what, even big bad vampires need patching up now and again. Now sit or I’ll make you sit.”

He scowled at her and sat, keeping his glare on at full force. He wasn’t going to trust this woman, small as she was; who couldn’t possibly be what she smelled like…there were two slayers…what the hell was she?

xxx

Jessica felt so alive and as a result she wanted to howl and dance in victory. She’d done it, she’d really thrown that monster out of the house, literally, and she was never letting him back in. Better yet, maybe she should just take the boy…Xander…her son, her pup…and leave. Her son, hers; it echoed through her heart and she couldn’t help but smile. She was free, free to claim him as hers; no one would hurt her for trying to care. Why the hell hadn’t she done this sooner? It felt damn good to care. But…why the hell was she dabbing a wet rag on a vampire’s busted lip? Why was there a vamp in her house period?

“So…wanna tell me why you’re in my house? I didn’t invite you in.” Her voice was still low, a permanent husk to it from abuse and disuse.

He hissed at the rag as she cleaned his wounds, not like they’d get infected…but cleaning them meant they would heal faster so he dealt. “Want to tell me why you smell like a slayer?”

She hesitated for a fraction of a second; if he’d been human he would have missed it. “I should have expected that. Vampire senses and everything…been a long time since I was this close.” Her voice was softer then and her touch grew gentle as she concentrated on cleaning his scrapes. They stayed like that for a while, him glaring at her and her gently probing his wounds fussing over him like he was a child and not the Big Bad. It was strange for both of them.

She glanced at his eyes, so blue they just might freeze her with a look alone, but she shrugged it off and put the first aide kit away. With a toss the rag was in the sink and she was going for the ice bag. His face was going to swell, ice would help. And if he was going to explain what he was doing here it would make talking easier.

In moments she had the ice bag wrapped in a small towel and handed it to him. He just glared at her. She closed her eyes and let out a world weary sigh before putting the bag to his face and grabbing his hand up to hold it in place. “Keep it there for a while.”

She pulled a chair out and collapsed onto it, spent and wondering if she’d always felt this old. The vampire was still glaring at her and she narrowed her eyes and glared back.

“So, why are you in my house?”

He sneered at her. “Got invited in.”

Still slouched in her seat she gave him a look. “I’m tired and out of practice but I can still hold my own against you vampire.” Another sigh. “Cut the bull will you? What’s your name?”

“Spike.” His eyes flashed gold.

She stiffened. “As in Spike and Drusilla?”

“Heard of me have you?” Spike smirked at her, chin lifting his battered face in pride.

She nodded and gave him a wry smile. “I’m Jessica.”

“The Whelp’s Mum yeah knew that.”

“Whelp?”

“…Xander…” The name left his lips softly, almost like a prayer and left her blinking. Oh boy.

“Does Xander know what you are?” She wondered idly what her son had gotten into…what in the hell had she missed during all those years in a drunken stupor. Obviously a lot from the way Spike was looking at her.

“Are you serious? Luv, this is a bloody Hell Mouth. Your pup’s been playin’ at bein’ a White Knight for a couple of years at least. Even stood up to Angelus.” His accent caught and held her, pretty to her ears. But that name shot her with molten fear. Angelus?!

Her face must have shown what was going on in her frazzled mind because in a moment he was patting her hand. “’salright pet. You’re boy’s alive init he. Safe at the slayer’s side.”

She blinked at him. Wha? Slayer? “Slayer?” She finally managed to say aloud.

“Bint named Buffy. One of the lad’s best friends…you didn’t know?”

Jessica snorted then, though not in amusement. “I’ve spent the last ten years or so in a state of numb-almost-but not quite oblivion. I haven’t noticed much of anything for the most part.”

He looked at her long and hard, fleeting changes in his gaze made him look softer, almost like he understood what it was like to hit rock bottom. “How long have you been a slayer?”

She took a chance and continued to hold those too blue eyes with her own in an almost challenge. “Since I was thirteen.”

A look of surprise, though she wasn’t sure why, met her gaze. “How old are you now pet?”

Jessica looked at the table top, brow furrowed and thought for a moment before answering. That was it, not another drink for her, not ever. “Thirty-eight.”

xxx

Spike, William the damned Bloody could only stare at the woman before him. The woman who could quite possibly be the oldest living slayer in history, and wasn’t this just a strange situation? Even for living, err, existing on the Hell Mouth, seeing as he was once Slayer of Slayers. He wondered how she’d fare going against Buffy…and whoever heard of a slayer that smelled of wolves…hmm…

“That’s quite a feat pet, slayers don’t usually last so long—“ He was cut off by her eyes, they were alive again, almost savage in their sorrow.

“I didn’t. I died when I was eighteen.” She wouldn’t meet his eyes again. “Look…I don’t really care that you’re here. But if Xander let you in and you haven’t killed him yet…” She took a breath. “If you’re his friend that’s fine, you’re welcome here anytime. I’ll do what I can to keep Tony out.” And in a rush of movement she was gone, feet padding silently through the house and away from the kitchen and the vampire.

Spike sat there for a long time, wondering what had broken this particular slayer…did the boy even know his mum was a slayer?

xxx

Xander stared, eyes almost comically wide at the fallen form of Tony Harris. His scum of a father lay in the dirt nearly twenty feet from the basement entrance. There were no tracks leading from the door to the drunken heap of man which he could hardly bare to associate with the word father. This meant that the waste of space that was Tony Harris hadn’t left the house on his own; nor had he been drug out.

Oookay…confused much. Look boys and girls, it’s just another day on the Hell Mouth. But he wondered…did Spike do that? This was completely possible, especially if Tony had come downstairs threatening to raise the rent. Damn, Spike had probably lost his temper and tossed the drunk out the basement door, which would have set the chip off. Dumb vampire was probably rolling on the bed in pain, moaning and—mmm, Spike rolling on my bed…Oh god…here we go again. Shut up beastie, let’s not go there. And he wondered if his mom had such a problem when she was young and hormonal, the wolf wanting to jump anything that oozed sex. But hey, even if he’d been a normal human he’d still probably want to jump something that oozed sex…like Spike, because guh, much oozing of the sex…and god that sounds so wrong, especially the association of his mom and hormonal sex oozing. Oookay, stopping the inner babble now.

His wolf being close to the surface and thoughts of his mom coloring his thoughts he unconsciously lifted his head to sniff the air. Much to his surprise he caught a scent he didn’t expect and he moved closer, ending up beside Tony in seconds. Spike’s scent was there his blood sharp and rich which meant he was bleeding, though it was faint…his Mom’s scent was there too, even fainter so he knew she wasn’t hurt. He could smell the rich and clean wild musk of the wolf that he associated with her and the feeling of pack. But there was something new there, something he had only associated with Buffy, Kendra, and Faith; something that tied the three girls together as surely as the blood of kin. The scent of a slayer blended in with is Mom’s and Spike’s scent, somehow managing to calm him so that he didn’t do something he might regret. Not that he would regret it too much, this was Tony after all.

He left out a soft growl and nudged the pathetic human being with the tip of his work boot. Tony shuddered and a wave of fear came off him like the stench of bad perfume. However he managed to raise his head and looked Xander in the eye before shuddering again at the look he found in the brown eyes above them. They were edgy and flecked with green and looked at him the same way Jessica had only a little while before. What the hell was going on with them?

“Where’s Mom?” Xander was rather proud of himself; he’d kept his voice smooth, not wavering in the slightest and only a touch of wolfy growl.

“Mouse is inside with that Fag of yours.” Tony spat in a last attempt to rile the boy.

A slow blink of brown orbs followed by a snarl and a snap of human teeth had Tony curling in on himself, hardly realizing the boy was gone and heading for the front door.

He wasn’t worried, not really. He could smell the wolf and the scent of their too small pack lingering on the man. It meant his Mom had managed to surface again, clawing her way out of what he had dubbed her walking coma. But usually when this happened they bonded, hunted, and just were. Never before had she attacked the man that held their chains so to speak. If this meant that she was around for good…he was almost afraid to hope for such an occurrence, because hey, he lived on a Hell Mouth.

XXX

A/N: Be nice and feed the starving author. :puppy eyes: