Cretian Escape
folder
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
19
Views:
3,720
Reviews:
85
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
AtS/BtVS Crossovers › Het - Male/Female › Buffy/Spike(William)
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
19
Views:
3,720
Reviews:
85
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS) or Angel, the Series (AtS); nor any of the characters from them. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
A Door Opens
Chapter 3 – A Door Opens
Considering the circumstances, Spike surprisingly felt a degree of pleasure being back, out of limbo, but he also felt lost. No more ties, moving every couple of months, the majority of the time keeping to himself. Only two things brightened up his existence. One was that he continued slaying by helping out in whatever city was his current residence, whether the city was located in Russia, Turkey, Greenland, Morocco or some other different country. Only one rule - never cross the Atlantic. Never close to Buffy. The new slayers were now spread out all over the world. Spike assisted the newbies, but made sure he stayed under the local slayer’s radar and swiftly left town, or even the country, if she became suspicious.
His somewhat warped second joy was playing off the Evil Spike rumors, even making up some of his own to float out into the demon world. He had no desire to make it known that the genuine Spike was back, so he lurked behind the stories, making sure anyone who crossed his path knew he was just an imposter. The uniqueness was making sure he didn’t completely look the part. Gone was the black leather duster, his now little crispy critter, and gone it could stay. Displaying a trophy off a dead slayer no longer represented him. Even if he wasn’t hiding out, he had no desire to replace it. Along the same lines, he dropped the color black as his mainstay. The first set of shirts he bought were a rainbow of colors. Next came the white blonde hair. He seriously thought about leaving his hair natural but couldn’t bring himself to stop bleaching it. So the only three parts of his old persona left was the hair, his accent, and the scar on his eyebrow. No way around the last one. So every time some dippy demon looked at his hair, heard his accent and told him, “There’s no way you are William the Bloody,” Spike would smile, tell him that he was right, thus making it easy for him to remain a shadow. For the first time in his unlife, Spike wanted to escape his reputation and stay anonymous.
Nevertheless, one of the bigger regrets from leaving his past behind, besides no contact with Buffy, was not seeing Dawn. Unbelievably, it was almost as hard not to see her as Buffy. Buffy was gone to him; she was happy with the big haired wonder. But to Spike, Dawn was still there and was hard to stay away from. He yearned to check up on her, see how she was doing.
&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&
May 21, 2005
Then one night in Belgium, a crack developed in his self control. That night was when he took a foolish chance, but surely not his first or last. He broke into the city’s resident slayer’s flat, where he quickly found the phone number for the Watchers Council’s new location in Cleveland.
He waited until late afternoon Cleveland time and got lucky on his first call. A friendly female voice answered the phone.
“Good afternoon.”
‘What did you expect, you stupid git? Hello, Watchers Council. Where can I direct your call? Slayer openings, slayer education, the library of demonology…’ Spike thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead, trying to knock some sense loose. He channeled his inner William and used an upper crust British accent. “Good afternoon to you. I am trying to contact a Miss Dawn Summers.”
“If you can hold, I will check to see if she is still here.”
“Thank you so very much.” The length of time that he stayed on hold gave him time to make ninecuitcuits around his flat, worrying with every step.
“Hello, this is Dawn.”
Only four words, but it was good to hear her voice.
“Hello?”
“Right. Sorry. Is this Dawn Summers?” Summers. Just the name brought images of all three Summer’s women, and he had loved and lost them all.
“Sure is. Who is this?”
“Hi, my name is Randy Gileton.” Spike couldn’t help the joke on Rupert even if he were the only one to ever know. “You probably don’t remember me, but we went to Sunnydale High together.”
“I don’t remember anyone British in any of my classes. In fact…I only knew two men with British accents that last year.”
He wanted to tell her so badly that she was talking to one of those two Brits. “And that’s not surprising. As an exchange student, I didn’t transfer in until close to the end of the first semester. What I am calling for is several of us from school are trying to get together a news letter that would let others find out what each other are currently doing. The Survivors of Sunnydale High.”
“That sounds cool. I’m in. So what do you want to know?”
Her voice sounded perky and endearing. Thoroughly Dawn. He asked questions. She answered, filling in the gaps from when he left her life until current. “So what are you doing now?”
“I am attending Valley View High School here in Cleveland, and after next year, my senior, I am going to the University of Cleveland to get a degree of sociology in the variations of different cultures. I already have loads of experience in that.”
Spike thought she should already have such the degree considering how many varieties of demons and witches she had contact with, including himself. “Do you look forward to college?”
He could hear her laugh, which warmed his cold, dead heart. “I use to like school, but after Sunnydale going all crater-like, I didn’t want to have much to do with it. So at first I refused to go, but my sister pulled the guilt card on me. Said that an old friend of ours we lost in Sunnydale would want me to go. One time when my sister was away, he was my babysitter, and Mr. “I don’t follow the rules but you have to” made me do my homework. I hated it then, but now I know that he wanted what was best for me. Actually, you remind me of him a little since he was British also.”
He wanted to cry at the mention of himself in conjunction with Dawn and Buffy. “He sounds smart.”
Spike could hear her laugh again. “He hid it, but yes, he was. For a while after that I hated him because of something he had done to my sister, which he made up for, but I know that I miss him now and that he did…uh…would give his unli…life for me or anyone.” Dawn paused and tried to clear the lump from her throat. “Can we talk about something else?”
At the reference of his attempted rape of Buffy, he would have been glad to talk about anything else, even Giles’ love life which he figured would be scary.
Now for a question he just had to know, her love life. “Do you have a boyfriend? I figure you are too young for a husband.” ‘A husband for my young Niblett. I’ll be there in two shakes of a bat to take care of the perv’
’
Dawn laughed. “Husband? Very funny, mister. I do have a guy that I am dating, but not really a boyfriend.”
“Does he treat you well? If he steps out of line or even on the line, tell your sister.”
‘A little protective for a stranger,’ Dawn thought, and the reference to Buffy? “My sister? Why do you say that?”
“I..uh..heard that…your sister was tough. They say that she blew up the first Sunnydale High.” Spike crossed his fingers that that paper airplane would fly.
Things went well during the rest of the interview until Spike put his foot in his mouth, a place where his foot had certainly visited before.
First Dawn had asked an innocent question. “Did you lose anyone when Sunnydale was destroyed?”
“Yes. Several. It was such a shame that all those young girls died in the school.” Shit, shit, shit!! Spike prayed she would miss the reference, but not his Niblett.
“Girls. What girls?” Dead air filled the space between the two phones. “Who are you? Where are you calling from?”
“Belguim.”
“Do you have a number I can call you back.”
Tricky, tricky, his girl. Get a number so you can trace it. “No…uhm… I am here visi rel relatives, so it wouldn’t do any good to give you one.”
“How did you get this number?”
Spike did the smart thing; he hung up. He hadn’t been prepared for this, and he knew he had stayed on the line too long. But he could never resist the Platelet, not to mention that she was as close as he was going to get to Buffy. Now the Bit’s bite was more refined, quick and sharp.
He pulled the tape out of his tape recorder, wrote Dawn’s name on the outside and stored it away next to his Creed CD. When he thought of Buffy, he could listen to “One Last Breath” and think about the fork in road they had taken, not the same paths.
*I’m looking down now that it’s over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere*
Regardless of his leaving for a while, she chose the road to Angel and would have regardless, and after looking down, he chose off a cliff into nowhere. But now when he thought of Dawn, he could listen to the sound of her voice and smile, think about how much he had loved her, still loved her, and how her love had turned to hate but had changed into something warmer now. Nevertheless, he loved them both, love encased in pain.
&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&
September 8, 2005
“Come join us.” The Greek island of Crete and all things Cretians were calling Spike. After a year of wandering with no direction and barely a purpose, Spike didn’t know why the call came in so loud and clear. But even with reservations, he followed his instincts and headed for the small island.
Crete was beautiful. White plastered houses, terracotta tiled roofs, and electric blue trim. Many of the fishing boats were painted white with a red or blue stripe. The people were warm, friendly, and liked to party. Fun all the way around, Spike thought, but he didn’t plan on staying more than a week. Ten days at the most. However, after just four days on the island amongst the natives, he decided to stay for a month, maybe two or three. He rented a flat in Irakleio, the largest city, but traveled and stayed nights in some of the other cities. Hotels in Chersonisos, Chania, and Agios Nikolaos came to know him by sight.
His flat in Irakleio was white washed with a blue awning over the balcony. Beautiful outside, but inside it was sparse at best. A bed, a bar stool at the other window on the wall facing the beach, a suitcase stuffed full of books, and a chair on the balcony to look out over the water at night. Spike wasted no time tinting the windows dark. During the day he would sit on the bar stool, smoke and watch the women in their bikinis walking along the beach lined with palm trees. The rest of the day he would sleep or read books to escape memories of Sunnydale and a beautiful slayer with hazel eyes. As it had been for years, escape from her was hard.
Curiously, Spike found three butchers in Irakleio that were vampire and demon friendly, which was two too many butchers in the relatively small island, let alone in a small town. Intrigued by the oddity, he had nosed around until he found out that the Sepatuccis clan had made the island their headquarters and were building up to make a grab at the control of Greece and then on to Italy. The minions were getting blood from the butchers since all victims were going to feed the elders. No wonder his intuition had pulled him to Crete. Here was a purpose for him. Irakleio had a master vampire that must think he was a new Hitler out to dominate the world. Hell, he could be Hitler for all Spike knew, he thought with a smile. That fanatical, greedy bugger had certainly acted like a demon.
So Spike made Crete his provisional home, with its plentiful source of blood and vampires to kill, and with its beautiful cities, beaches and country side. At night he would roam, looking a g a good fight, doing his part to decrease the numbers of the Sepatuccis clan. He knew that the new Watchers Council was aware of the aggressive clan because there was also a slayer assigned to the small island. After being there a month, he knew this slayer was pretty good, but even with his anonymous help, he thought they could use help handling the still growing clan.
&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&
TBC
Please, please review!! Tell me what you think.
Considering the circumstances, Spike surprisingly felt a degree of pleasure being back, out of limbo, but he also felt lost. No more ties, moving every couple of months, the majority of the time keeping to himself. Only two things brightened up his existence. One was that he continued slaying by helping out in whatever city was his current residence, whether the city was located in Russia, Turkey, Greenland, Morocco or some other different country. Only one rule - never cross the Atlantic. Never close to Buffy. The new slayers were now spread out all over the world. Spike assisted the newbies, but made sure he stayed under the local slayer’s radar and swiftly left town, or even the country, if she became suspicious.
His somewhat warped second joy was playing off the Evil Spike rumors, even making up some of his own to float out into the demon world. He had no desire to make it known that the genuine Spike was back, so he lurked behind the stories, making sure anyone who crossed his path knew he was just an imposter. The uniqueness was making sure he didn’t completely look the part. Gone was the black leather duster, his now little crispy critter, and gone it could stay. Displaying a trophy off a dead slayer no longer represented him. Even if he wasn’t hiding out, he had no desire to replace it. Along the same lines, he dropped the color black as his mainstay. The first set of shirts he bought were a rainbow of colors. Next came the white blonde hair. He seriously thought about leaving his hair natural but couldn’t bring himself to stop bleaching it. So the only three parts of his old persona left was the hair, his accent, and the scar on his eyebrow. No way around the last one. So every time some dippy demon looked at his hair, heard his accent and told him, “There’s no way you are William the Bloody,” Spike would smile, tell him that he was right, thus making it easy for him to remain a shadow. For the first time in his unlife, Spike wanted to escape his reputation and stay anonymous.
Nevertheless, one of the bigger regrets from leaving his past behind, besides no contact with Buffy, was not seeing Dawn. Unbelievably, it was almost as hard not to see her as Buffy. Buffy was gone to him; she was happy with the big haired wonder. But to Spike, Dawn was still there and was hard to stay away from. He yearned to check up on her, see how she was doing.
&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&
May 21, 2005
Then one night in Belgium, a crack developed in his self control. That night was when he took a foolish chance, but surely not his first or last. He broke into the city’s resident slayer’s flat, where he quickly found the phone number for the Watchers Council’s new location in Cleveland.
He waited until late afternoon Cleveland time and got lucky on his first call. A friendly female voice answered the phone.
“Good afternoon.”
‘What did you expect, you stupid git? Hello, Watchers Council. Where can I direct your call? Slayer openings, slayer education, the library of demonology…’ Spike thumped the heel of his hand against his forehead, trying to knock some sense loose. He channeled his inner William and used an upper crust British accent. “Good afternoon to you. I am trying to contact a Miss Dawn Summers.”
“If you can hold, I will check to see if she is still here.”
“Thank you so very much.” The length of time that he stayed on hold gave him time to make ninecuitcuits around his flat, worrying with every step.
“Hello, this is Dawn.”
Only four words, but it was good to hear her voice.
“Hello?”
“Right. Sorry. Is this Dawn Summers?” Summers. Just the name brought images of all three Summer’s women, and he had loved and lost them all.
“Sure is. Who is this?”
“Hi, my name is Randy Gileton.” Spike couldn’t help the joke on Rupert even if he were the only one to ever know. “You probably don’t remember me, but we went to Sunnydale High together.”
“I don’t remember anyone British in any of my classes. In fact…I only knew two men with British accents that last year.”
He wanted to tell her so badly that she was talking to one of those two Brits. “And that’s not surprising. As an exchange student, I didn’t transfer in until close to the end of the first semester. What I am calling for is several of us from school are trying to get together a news letter that would let others find out what each other are currently doing. The Survivors of Sunnydale High.”
“That sounds cool. I’m in. So what do you want to know?”
Her voice sounded perky and endearing. Thoroughly Dawn. He asked questions. She answered, filling in the gaps from when he left her life until current. “So what are you doing now?”
“I am attending Valley View High School here in Cleveland, and after next year, my senior, I am going to the University of Cleveland to get a degree of sociology in the variations of different cultures. I already have loads of experience in that.”
Spike thought she should already have such the degree considering how many varieties of demons and witches she had contact with, including himself. “Do you look forward to college?”
He could hear her laugh, which warmed his cold, dead heart. “I use to like school, but after Sunnydale going all crater-like, I didn’t want to have much to do with it. So at first I refused to go, but my sister pulled the guilt card on me. Said that an old friend of ours we lost in Sunnydale would want me to go. One time when my sister was away, he was my babysitter, and Mr. “I don’t follow the rules but you have to” made me do my homework. I hated it then, but now I know that he wanted what was best for me. Actually, you remind me of him a little since he was British also.”
He wanted to cry at the mention of himself in conjunction with Dawn and Buffy. “He sounds smart.”
Spike could hear her laugh again. “He hid it, but yes, he was. For a while after that I hated him because of something he had done to my sister, which he made up for, but I know that I miss him now and that he did…uh…would give his unli…life for me or anyone.” Dawn paused and tried to clear the lump from her throat. “Can we talk about something else?”
At the reference of his attempted rape of Buffy, he would have been glad to talk about anything else, even Giles’ love life which he figured would be scary.
Now for a question he just had to know, her love life. “Do you have a boyfriend? I figure you are too young for a husband.” ‘A husband for my young Niblett. I’ll be there in two shakes of a bat to take care of the perv’
’
Dawn laughed. “Husband? Very funny, mister. I do have a guy that I am dating, but not really a boyfriend.”
“Does he treat you well? If he steps out of line or even on the line, tell your sister.”
‘A little protective for a stranger,’ Dawn thought, and the reference to Buffy? “My sister? Why do you say that?”
“I..uh..heard that…your sister was tough. They say that she blew up the first Sunnydale High.” Spike crossed his fingers that that paper airplane would fly.
Things went well during the rest of the interview until Spike put his foot in his mouth, a place where his foot had certainly visited before.
First Dawn had asked an innocent question. “Did you lose anyone when Sunnydale was destroyed?”
“Yes. Several. It was such a shame that all those young girls died in the school.” Shit, shit, shit!! Spike prayed she would miss the reference, but not his Niblett.
“Girls. What girls?” Dead air filled the space between the two phones. “Who are you? Where are you calling from?”
“Belguim.”
“Do you have a number I can call you back.”
Tricky, tricky, his girl. Get a number so you can trace it. “No…uhm… I am here visi rel relatives, so it wouldn’t do any good to give you one.”
“How did you get this number?”
Spike did the smart thing; he hung up. He hadn’t been prepared for this, and he knew he had stayed on the line too long. But he could never resist the Platelet, not to mention that she was as close as he was going to get to Buffy. Now the Bit’s bite was more refined, quick and sharp.
He pulled the tape out of his tape recorder, wrote Dawn’s name on the outside and stored it away next to his Creed CD. When he thought of Buffy, he could listen to “One Last Breath” and think about the fork in road they had taken, not the same paths.
*I’m looking down now that it’s over
Reflecting on all of my mistakes
I thought I found the road to somewhere*
Regardless of his leaving for a while, she chose the road to Angel and would have regardless, and after looking down, he chose off a cliff into nowhere. But now when he thought of Dawn, he could listen to the sound of her voice and smile, think about how much he had loved her, still loved her, and how her love had turned to hate but had changed into something warmer now. Nevertheless, he loved them both, love encased in pain.
&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&
September 8, 2005
“Come join us.” The Greek island of Crete and all things Cretians were calling Spike. After a year of wandering with no direction and barely a purpose, Spike didn’t know why the call came in so loud and clear. But even with reservations, he followed his instincts and headed for the small island.
Crete was beautiful. White plastered houses, terracotta tiled roofs, and electric blue trim. Many of the fishing boats were painted white with a red or blue stripe. The people were warm, friendly, and liked to party. Fun all the way around, Spike thought, but he didn’t plan on staying more than a week. Ten days at the most. However, after just four days on the island amongst the natives, he decided to stay for a month, maybe two or three. He rented a flat in Irakleio, the largest city, but traveled and stayed nights in some of the other cities. Hotels in Chersonisos, Chania, and Agios Nikolaos came to know him by sight.
His flat in Irakleio was white washed with a blue awning over the balcony. Beautiful outside, but inside it was sparse at best. A bed, a bar stool at the other window on the wall facing the beach, a suitcase stuffed full of books, and a chair on the balcony to look out over the water at night. Spike wasted no time tinting the windows dark. During the day he would sit on the bar stool, smoke and watch the women in their bikinis walking along the beach lined with palm trees. The rest of the day he would sleep or read books to escape memories of Sunnydale and a beautiful slayer with hazel eyes. As it had been for years, escape from her was hard.
Curiously, Spike found three butchers in Irakleio that were vampire and demon friendly, which was two too many butchers in the relatively small island, let alone in a small town. Intrigued by the oddity, he had nosed around until he found out that the Sepatuccis clan had made the island their headquarters and were building up to make a grab at the control of Greece and then on to Italy. The minions were getting blood from the butchers since all victims were going to feed the elders. No wonder his intuition had pulled him to Crete. Here was a purpose for him. Irakleio had a master vampire that must think he was a new Hitler out to dominate the world. Hell, he could be Hitler for all Spike knew, he thought with a smile. That fanatical, greedy bugger had certainly acted like a demon.
So Spike made Crete his provisional home, with its plentiful source of blood and vampires to kill, and with its beautiful cities, beaches and country side. At night he would roam, looking a g a good fight, doing his part to decrease the numbers of the Sepatuccis clan. He knew that the new Watchers Council was aware of the aggressive clan because there was also a slayer assigned to the small island. After being there a month, he knew this slayer was pretty good, but even with his anonymous help, he thought they could use help handling the still growing clan.
&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&~&
TBC
Please, please review!! Tell me what you think.