Once It Begins
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
15,794
Reviews:
75
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
16
Views:
15,794
Reviews:
75
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
03 Links
A/N: I now know where to put this, it’s Buffy midSeason 6 without the whole S/B Plot and Angel Season 5 without the Wolfram & Hart agreement, but everything happened so far. I know that’s weird - it’s my story - dea
03
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„Cordy, do you now a better dry cleaning service than George’s?“ Angels holds his light green button shirt against the light of a lamp. „The Gnor’kl’s blood has still left a light purple…“ His eyes fly open wide. Shock and surprise making them bulge. Hands moving too his heart on their own account. Looking like a old man having a stroke, Angel goes down.
*Thunk* as his knee hits the floor hard and he starts to whimper.
*Thunk* as his fist slams into the wooden floor, destroying a tile while the whimper turns into growling.
Wuumbwuumm when Cordelia’s knees hits the floor, little cries accompaniing the waves of the vision phloughing through her brain. She quakes in pain, her hands clutching her head. Tears streaking down her face distorted by grief.
Seeing Corringringing in hurt Angel pulls himself together and crawls towards her, craddles the sobbing girl to his chest.
„Oh God, oh God, ohgod ohgodohgodohgod… he is…“ she sobbs.
„He will be okay. He gets through it. We just have to get to him. Fast!“ Angel wonders if visions now come with a portion pity for the hurt person.
„He is dead! DEAD!“ she screams only inches away from Angels sensible ears.
He flinches away. „Well, yes. More than a century, actually.“
„Huh?“ Big brown eyes staring up confused.
„Well, turned him 1880, makes it about one hundert and…“
„Huh?“ She interrups.
„Spike? My childe?“ Raised eyebrown. Brown eyes urging her to understand.
„WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SPIKE?“
„Because he… erm, your vision was not about Spike, was it?“ Biting his lower lip, trying to figure out, how he gets her to hurry so he can get to his childe.
„He was invisivision, not the mainplayer though and Buffy took care of him… finally.“
„Took care of h Sur Surpresses growling.
„Staked him.“ Shrugging.
„NO.“
„Well I saw her ramming the long wooden thing deep into his chest…“ trailing off when Angel growls loudly.
„He is not gone.“ Angel says, tries to puzzle out the whole picture.
„If you say so.“ A neatly shaped eyebrow rising, silently questioning Angels sanity.
„What else did you see?!“ Angel hurries her and gets a weeping Cordy in his arms again instead of information. Brushing away the words of compassion his soul whispers, he grabs her shoulders and shakes her. „Tell me what you saw. NOW!“ Eyes flashing yellow.
„He is DEAD!“ She eventually cries.
„He is not dead.“
„You haven’t seen him! He IS dead!“
„I would feel it when he were dead. Believe me, he is not dead!“ Losing patience.
„Why would you feel it when Xander was dead?“ Earnest puzzlement now.
„What? You talking about the stupid boy again?“ Groaning and biting his lip, trying not to slap her. „Fuck Harris! I care about Spike!“ Wide brown eyes, surprised by his own words. Angel hears them echoing in his head, lingering like cigarette smoke.
Cordy struggles to her feet, wiping furiously on the tears still spilling from her eyes.
“I have to go to Sunnydale.” Angel says and sits on the heel of his feet, hands on his knees, thights spread wide.
“Yeah, have to pack for the funeral. Did I ever wear the black shirt with the sweetheart neckline in Sunnydale or did I buy it here in L.A. already?
Angel sighes. “Cordy. Cordy! CORDELIA!”
She whipps around to Angel, takes in his formal looking stance. “Erm, Angel…”
“You’ve got two hours to get your stuff together. I go to Sunnydale and if you’re ready, you can come with me.” When Cordy opens her mouth to protest or to negotiate the time or whatever he cuts her short: “GO. NOW!”
The door slams shut loudly.
Alone at last, Angel is able to concentrate. Spike must be very desperate if he of all people calls the clan. Then Cordy’s vision of Buffy staking Spike after finding the annoying now dead youth. Something must have gone badly wrong. Some kind of misunderstanding maybe. Spike simply wasn’t able to hurt Xander, the chip was still in place as his childe told them with the call. Musing the possibilities around Angel realizes that he is just stalling. He had never given up the position of the clan’s head, so he had to deal now. And a demand of protection and help made by a childe was nothing that could be ignored, no. The lore of his clan simply said to follow the call and help and protect where it was needed.
Angel throws his head back, demon to the fore, he howls out his rage of the treatment of his childe and assures Spike that the head of the clan of the Aurelius blood line will follow the lore and come to him.
***
“Ooohh…” The darkhaired woman jumped up to a bench, her face to the sky, lips twisted in a semismile. “Miss Edith, can you hear him?” Twirling on one foot, the long skirt flowing around her pale legs. “He is calling for Daddy.” Laughing lightly to herself, jumping from the bench, cocking her head to her side, listening. “But we can hear him too! Can’t we, Miss Edith?” Turning in another direction, she stretches her hands out over her head to the sky screaming: “The sister can hear you! SHE CAN HEAR YOU!” Demon rippling to twist the pale face, glowing yellow eyes and sharp fangs. The head thrown back again, Drusilla starts a high pitched howling before she begins her journey to her little Spike to help him and meet Daddy again.
***
Sitting at school, bored to death by the repeatly performed Tell-about-your-holiday-plans-rite, the young man looks out of the window. There are some leaves of the old tree that the wind picks up time and time again. He shoves them around, lifts them and plays with them endlessly. Not really the best to pass the time but… groaning, clutching at his heart. Panic rushing into his body with each breath he takes. Panting now. Hot agony. In him. On him. Around him. Everywhere but… A scream torn from his throat. The faint echo of what he feels. He has to go. Now.
Shooting to his feets, the chair flying back, all eyes on him, he runs out of the class room. Desperate to run home but not able to deny his body when uns uns in the opposite direction.
03
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„Cordy, do you now a better dry cleaning service than George’s?“ Angels holds his light green button shirt against the light of a lamp. „The Gnor’kl’s blood has still left a light purple…“ His eyes fly open wide. Shock and surprise making them bulge. Hands moving too his heart on their own account. Looking like a old man having a stroke, Angel goes down.
*Thunk* as his knee hits the floor hard and he starts to whimper.
*Thunk* as his fist slams into the wooden floor, destroying a tile while the whimper turns into growling.
Wuumbwuumm when Cordelia’s knees hits the floor, little cries accompaniing the waves of the vision phloughing through her brain. She quakes in pain, her hands clutching her head. Tears streaking down her face distorted by grief.
Seeing Corringringing in hurt Angel pulls himself together and crawls towards her, craddles the sobbing girl to his chest.
„Oh God, oh God, ohgod ohgodohgodohgod… he is…“ she sobbs.
„He will be okay. He gets through it. We just have to get to him. Fast!“ Angel wonders if visions now come with a portion pity for the hurt person.
„He is dead! DEAD!“ she screams only inches away from Angels sensible ears.
He flinches away. „Well, yes. More than a century, actually.“
„Huh?“ Big brown eyes staring up confused.
„Well, turned him 1880, makes it about one hundert and…“
„Huh?“ She interrups.
„Spike? My childe?“ Raised eyebrown. Brown eyes urging her to understand.
„WHY ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT SPIKE?“
„Because he… erm, your vision was not about Spike, was it?“ Biting his lower lip, trying to figure out, how he gets her to hurry so he can get to his childe.
„He was invisivision, not the mainplayer though and Buffy took care of him… finally.“
„Took care of h Sur Surpresses growling.
„Staked him.“ Shrugging.
„NO.“
„Well I saw her ramming the long wooden thing deep into his chest…“ trailing off when Angel growls loudly.
„He is not gone.“ Angel says, tries to puzzle out the whole picture.
„If you say so.“ A neatly shaped eyebrow rising, silently questioning Angels sanity.
„What else did you see?!“ Angel hurries her and gets a weeping Cordy in his arms again instead of information. Brushing away the words of compassion his soul whispers, he grabs her shoulders and shakes her. „Tell me what you saw. NOW!“ Eyes flashing yellow.
„He is DEAD!“ She eventually cries.
„He is not dead.“
„You haven’t seen him! He IS dead!“
„I would feel it when he were dead. Believe me, he is not dead!“ Losing patience.
„Why would you feel it when Xander was dead?“ Earnest puzzlement now.
„What? You talking about the stupid boy again?“ Groaning and biting his lip, trying not to slap her. „Fuck Harris! I care about Spike!“ Wide brown eyes, surprised by his own words. Angel hears them echoing in his head, lingering like cigarette smoke.
Cordy struggles to her feet, wiping furiously on the tears still spilling from her eyes.
“I have to go to Sunnydale.” Angel says and sits on the heel of his feet, hands on his knees, thights spread wide.
“Yeah, have to pack for the funeral. Did I ever wear the black shirt with the sweetheart neckline in Sunnydale or did I buy it here in L.A. already?
Angel sighes. “Cordy. Cordy! CORDELIA!”
She whipps around to Angel, takes in his formal looking stance. “Erm, Angel…”
“You’ve got two hours to get your stuff together. I go to Sunnydale and if you’re ready, you can come with me.” When Cordy opens her mouth to protest or to negotiate the time or whatever he cuts her short: “GO. NOW!”
The door slams shut loudly.
Alone at last, Angel is able to concentrate. Spike must be very desperate if he of all people calls the clan. Then Cordy’s vision of Buffy staking Spike after finding the annoying now dead youth. Something must have gone badly wrong. Some kind of misunderstanding maybe. Spike simply wasn’t able to hurt Xander, the chip was still in place as his childe told them with the call. Musing the possibilities around Angel realizes that he is just stalling. He had never given up the position of the clan’s head, so he had to deal now. And a demand of protection and help made by a childe was nothing that could be ignored, no. The lore of his clan simply said to follow the call and help and protect where it was needed.
Angel throws his head back, demon to the fore, he howls out his rage of the treatment of his childe and assures Spike that the head of the clan of the Aurelius blood line will follow the lore and come to him.
***
“Ooohh…” The darkhaired woman jumped up to a bench, her face to the sky, lips twisted in a semismile. “Miss Edith, can you hear him?” Twirling on one foot, the long skirt flowing around her pale legs. “He is calling for Daddy.” Laughing lightly to herself, jumping from the bench, cocking her head to her side, listening. “But we can hear him too! Can’t we, Miss Edith?” Turning in another direction, she stretches her hands out over her head to the sky screaming: “The sister can hear you! SHE CAN HEAR YOU!” Demon rippling to twist the pale face, glowing yellow eyes and sharp fangs. The head thrown back again, Drusilla starts a high pitched howling before she begins her journey to her little Spike to help him and meet Daddy again.
***
Sitting at school, bored to death by the repeatly performed Tell-about-your-holiday-plans-rite, the young man looks out of the window. There are some leaves of the old tree that the wind picks up time and time again. He shoves them around, lifts them and plays with them endlessly. Not really the best to pass the time but… groaning, clutching at his heart. Panic rushing into his body with each breath he takes. Panting now. Hot agony. In him. On him. Around him. Everywhere but… A scream torn from his throat. The faint echo of what he feels. He has to go. Now.
Shooting to his feets, the chair flying back, all eyes on him, he runs out of the class room. Desperate to run home but not able to deny his body when uns uns in the opposite direction.