Fate

Author's Note: This is really more of a BtVS fanfic but I couldn't figure out where that catagory was so I put it under AtS. It could turn into an Angel fic eventually so that'll work. Hope everyone enjoys and plz plz review! It makes me happy!

~
FATE

"You told Buffy you would protect me...” Dawn's voice came out in somewhat of a whimper as she watched Spike gather the few possessions he owned into a small travel bag. "..'Till the end of the world...” He muttered, under his breath trying not to make eye contact with his company. “
Last I checked... world not ending!" She yelled, grabbing Spike by the shoulder so he would finally face her. The pain on his face was almost too much to bear and Dawn diverted her eyes quickly. "Spike, I don't want you to go...”

"All's right in the world now, little bit - no more nasties coming after you, plus I don't think big sis really wanted me sticking around playing nanny after..." Spike swallowed the lump in his throat, his eyes closing tightly for a moment. After she died. "I'm sorry, Dawn but I can't...”

Defeated, Dawn simply nodded her head and slumped down into the chair behind her. Perhaps it wasn't fair to ask Spike to stay after Buffy's death. There was nothing keeping him here after all - just a shallow promise he made to a slayer. Not the best way to live out your infinite existence. "I'll never be more than a phone call away, bit." Spike assured suddenly, causing Dawn to look up as he handing her a small folded piece of paper. She nodded and forced a smile. "Okay."

~
Two weeks later.
New York City.

Thick gray smoke swirled through the dark club, enveloping its occupants in its tobacco goodness. Luckily for Spike, fresh air wasn't high on his list of priorities so this place suited him just fine. He had been sitting at the bar for nearly two hours, snacking on the complimentary peanuts - watching recaps of the Yankee game, and drinking only what burned going down. No one bothered him here - no young delicious blonds asking for a dance, even the bar tender just nodded towards him ever so often and refilled his shot glass without a word. New Yorker's were smart - they knew when danger lurked in the shadows. Unlike those bloody sods in Sunnydale - wouldn't know a murderous fiend if one drained them to their bone and ash. Spike sighed at the thought, pulling a cigarette from the open pack on the bar and placing it to his lips. Sunnydale was just a distant memory now.

Dawn hadn't called him so that must be a good sign - or a really bad one - perhaps Faith would reform - get out of jail and be the champion of the people at the hell mouth. Or, perhaps she'd die and someone else would get a shot. What did it matter to him? He hoped to never lay an eye on another Slayer ever again. Another sign escaped him as he inhaled a deep breath of smoke.

"Can I bum one?"

Spike stopped mid-drag and narrowed his eyes, turning his head ever so slightly to the left. A young girl - mid-twenties if he was guessing - stood beside him with a bright, innocent smile spread across gloss covered lips. "Sod off." The smile continued but never fully reach the dark blue of her eyes. "Thanks." She assured, removing a cigarette from his pack. The vampire growled low in his throat - looking at his company in disbelief as she placed the smoke between her lips and took the unoffered seat to his left.

"My name's Kryst--."

"Don't remember askin' your name, love - now run off with your little sods and leave me be." With that said Spike turned his attention back to the television. "Well, what's your name then?" He couldn't help but laugh - did this girl really have a death wish? "Bloody hell, bit! What do you want from me?" That brilliant smile returned as she pointed to his smokes. "Well, mostly a smoke - but a name and some meaningless conversation would be nice too."

As if on cue the bartender sat two full shots on the bar in front of them. Spike watched in awe as the girl downed one after the other - ordering two more just as quickly. "I'm Krysta." She assured, sliding one of the shot glasses over to him. "Spike." He answered.

"Spike? Wow. Of course you couldn't be a Jeff or Dave - right? I mean look at you."

Krysta studied her company for a long moment, soaking in the whole Billy Idol look. He was definitely easy on the eyes. Spike smirked, bringing the offered shot to his dry lips. He threw back his head with Krysta and swallowed down the dark liquid in one hard gulp. When he sat his glass down there were four more shots waiting for them.

At least this bird was good for something.

~

Two nights later.

"About this tall...” Spike measured his hand to his shoulder, "Dark hair - drink twenty sailors under the table." The bartender looked at the vampire bewildered, not that he paid much attention to the people that came into this club but the girl he described didn't ring any bells. "Ain't seen her." He repeated, turning away as Spike sat down at the bar and ordered a drink. Maybe he had finally lost it - really lost his mind and imagined the girl. Wouldn't have been the strangest thing to happen to him by far. Drusilla had made up new friends several times a day.

~

"Miss me?"

Spike found himself staring into two dark pools of blue that sparkled with the clubs lights. "Might have." He assured between his teeth, trying to control his temper as the girl sat across from him in the booth. It had been almost two weeks since he'd met Krysta and she'd been MIA since that night. They smiled faintly at one another for a moment before Spike reach across the table and grabbed Krysta by the shoulders in one quick movement - pulling her half way across the table. The girl cried out in surprise. "You owe me fifty dollars." He growled, reminding her that she bailed on him - leaving behind a large bill for their consumed liquor. After one intense moment he let go of her - watching as she dug two fingers into tight jeans and removed a wad of money - shoving it into his palm.

"Sorry, geez. Abusive much?"

Spike glared at the money in his hand as if it were going to sprout a head.

"You have no idea."

A slow smile crept onto Krysta's lips. "Good thing I like it rough." She assured in a soft, sensual voice. Spike made her no comment. "Oh, come on Spike! You're too sexy to be all stuffy and British...” That got a rise out of him.

"You don't know anything about me."

"Well, not for lack of trying! How long have you been in The Big Apple?"

"Born and raised, love."

Krysta rolled her eyes, sinking back down into her seat. "Right. As if I couldn't spot a Cali boy a mile away. You're all the same - bleached blond hair, innocent blue eyes...” Their eyes met and she had to admit there was nothing innocent about his paler hues. "..and you all look as if someone, that perfect honey blond with her matching blue eyes, ripped the still beating heart from your chest."

Spike stared across the table, not sure how to answer her statement. He just couldn't find the words. "Soo.." Krysta stood up again, leaning down in front of Spike on the table. She slid her arms out, running her fingers down his biceps and to his forearms - stopping at his wrist in a painfully slow motion. "..you run to the other side of the world trying to get her taste out of your mouth.." Spike swallowed hard, taking in Krysta's scent of vanilla and Jack Daniels. It was invigorating. His eyes closed slightly as she pushed herself closer to him, her fingers gripping his wrists gently as her bottom lip grazed his ear lobe. "..oh, and I also know you're a vampire."

Spike opened his eyes quickly, shoving Krysta back enough to look into her eyes. There was a glint of humor there as her perfect lips spread into a grin and Spike's gaze followed hers to his wrists. "No pulse." She assured, then followed with, "..plus you're not the first I've met. Plenty of walking dead around here nowadays." Spike was at a complete loss. This girl - he barely knew, had unlocked secrets about him that had taken decades to hide. He studied her for another long minute. "Her eyes were green."

"What?"

Beautiful, witty - amazing but a little ADHD.

"The perfect honey blond... had green eyes."

Krysta's face lit up with realization. "Damn I'm good." She winked. "..and the whole vamp thing? Turns out I have a creepy uncle who is a Watcher and apparently I'm some kind of prodigy of a long line of girls who are supposed to kill your kind.. blah blah, I don't know - I skipped out on the lecture and moved to New York when I was legal."

Spike's surprised, almost dumbfounded look returned. "You.. you’re a potential slayer?" Of course she was. That explained why out of all the people who tried to make conversation with him in the past few weeks Krysta was the only one he'd thought twice about. It was always The Slayer - as if it were programmed into his brain to be attracted to and hunt down anything related. He sighed, ".. what contest in hell did bloody well win?"

"It's okay though.. like I said, I skipped out on the chance to be super woman or whatever - who am I to judge who gets to live or die? Plus - vampires? How cool is that?"

"Honestly, love - not all vampires are as... domesticated as I may seem to appear. You really should watch your back.."

Krysta laughed quietly at the thought. "I'm more worried about my front," she winked, "..and I don't think you’re domesticated at all, Spike. A better word would be..." she paused, "..evolved? I like that one much better."

Evolved. It did have a much better ring to it then a pathetic, incompetent domesticated vampire with a chip imbedded into his skull so even if he did want to massacre everyone within his reach - he couldn't. Evolved. This word caused a smile to finally spread across his face. "I like that one better to, love."

"There is one thing that doesn't add up though," Their eyes met. "..and no offense because you are - damn - sexy.. but, you're looking a little weak in the vampire department. "If I were guessing I'd say you hadn't," Quote un-quote. "..eaten anything in over a week?" Spike dropped her gaze. She was good. "Don't know this area very well, love and.. there are complications.."

"Huh."

"Huh?"

Krysta smiled, standing up from the booth. "Do you trust me?" Spike studied her for a moment, definitely intrigued. "No." This caused another laugh to escape her. "Well, how about - are you going to kill me?" He considered. "No."

"Then come on."

~

"Krysta! Mia bella ragazza! I haven't seen you in weeks! Where you been hiding?"

Spike looked up as the little bell over the door dinged, letting its occupants know they had visitors. She had taken him to Big Apple Meat Market, Inc., a well known butcher in New York City. "Layin' low, Roscoe. You know how it is." Krysta walked to the counter, smiling at the large, burly man on the other side. Roscoe eyed Spike suspiciously and turned to Krysta.

"You're not still into that black magic stuff are you, ragazza?"

Krysta just smiled. "Don't give me a hard time, Ross - I need six pints of your finest." Roscoe stared at her for a long moment before sighing and turning to walk into the back of the small building. "Black magic, huh?" Spike muttered, keeping his eyes on Roscoe's back. He definitely didn't trust that guy. Krysta just shrugged - her smile never fading as the large man returned carrying two brown bags and handing them over. "Sweet. Thanks Ross. How much do I owe you?" Roscoe shook his head, wiping his hands on his apron. "You know your money's no good here, bella." With that said he turned to Spike in all seriousness.

"The vampire pays twenty dollars."

~

Two months later.

Spike pressed his back to the crumbling brick wall, searching his duster for a cigarette - allowing the darkness to swallow him. The click of the Zippo echoed through the alley - illuminating his face with the soft glow of the flame. Keen senses detected the girl long before she entered the alley - dressed in black from head to toe - his kinda girl. Krysta moved easily through the darkness as if she belonged with the vampires and the monsters after dark. She herself the predator and Spike her prey. Closing his lighter Spike smirked at the thought.

"'Bout bloody well time you showed face."

Krysta batted those long black lashes and plucked the newly lit smoke from his lips - placing it to her own pouty mouth. She took a long, needed drawl before answering him. "I was a little tied up." She blew the smoke in his general direction and forced a grin. Spike couldn't help himself - when it came to Krysta she was his devil in disguise. He gave her a once over - admiring the black boots all the way to the black halter top. "Eat your heart out, vamp boy. Come on." She finished his cigarette and flicked it to the ground - moving past him to the club.

~

Spike sat his empty beer bottle down on the table and took in a deep, unneeded breath. Why was he sitting in this bar with all of his attention on one girl who didn't seem to think twice about him on good days. He wasn't a hundred percent on their relationship - or anything for that matter but he knew that he cared about Krysta - they met almost every night and partied and laughed - she made things simpler for him. He didn't think about things nearly as much when she was around. Buffy had given her life so that he and every other unworthy sod in the world could live on and here he was, partying every waking second while she rot. He shook the thought from his head - scanning the smoke filled room for his drug of choice. Krysta. At least he didn't think about Buffy when Krysta was around. He didn’t think about Sunnydale or about conning anyone into anything. It was just him and Krysta and Roscoe's endless supply of pig’s blood.

Krysta lifted her hand in a small wave - warming the room with her smile. She pointed to the pool tables in the back of the building and made her way towards them as he stood.

"Why are you sitting over there being all moody?"

"Time for reflection, love." He assured with a grin as she handed him a pool stick. "Didn't think you had one of those?" She asked, matching his smile with her own. "When are you going to give up on trying to beat me at billiards? I've been playing since before it was called billa--." Spike watched Krysta take her shot - four striped balls going into their respected cubby holes. "Bloody hell."

She looked up at him slowly - her lips pulling into a thin smile. "What were you saying?" A growl escaped the vampire. After another few great shots from the both of them Krysta placed her pool stick down and took Spike by the hand. "This is our song.." She assured, pulling him onto the dance floor as 'Living Dead Girl' by Rob Zombie began playing through the club.

Who is this irrestable creature,
Who has an insasiable love for the dead?

"Living dead girl.." Krysta sang quietly, grinning as Spike put his hands on her swaying hips - pulling her closer to his own body. She was intoxicating sometimes - the way she moved, the way she smelled - it was as if her blood was singing to him - beckoning him with every seductive trace of her body. "Crawl on me, sink into me.. die for me.." He whispered, her ear very close to his mouth suddenly. "You could sink into me." Spike pulled away from her - searching her eyes with his own. He did want to sink his teeth into the softest part of her neck - tasting the real Krysta Meadows. His gaze fell onto her crimson glossed lips. "I want to.." He whispered with her, his lips grazing hers for a split second. It was almost painful being this close to her sometimes - his love for Buffy, the heartache that haunted him every day over her death - he couldn't bring himself to love Krysta when Buffy's demise was so fresh in his brain. Before he realized what was happening Krysta had leaned into him - standing on tip toes to place her lips against his own in one soft movement. She tasted like heaven - like raspberries and vanilla with a trace of whiskey - this caused a soft moan to escape Spike's throat as the kiss deepened. Time seemed to stand still as they kissed - touching, groping each other in the darkness of the club. When Krysta finally gasped in need of air she was pressed roughly against a wall, her eyes wild with desire. "Spike.. I.." She took in a deep breath, surprised to see that there was no desire in her company's eyes - only something that looked like remorse. "Spike?"

He stared at her for a long moment before taking a few steps back. "I.. can't..." She moved towards him. "But, I thought..." He backed away further. "Krysta.. I'm sorry.." Spike shook his head - finally meeting her eyes with his own. The look on her face was worse than any torture Glory had once caused him. He had never seen her frown before. "Sorry.." She whispered, looking down at her boots. After a long, brutal moment she looked up - that perfect smile plastered back on her lips. "So.. I should probably call it a night.. early morning and all.." Spike looked at his watch. "It's eight thirty?" They had never left the club before 2am. "Tired.." She assured, leaning forward to place another innocent kiss on his lips before she turned on her heals and made her way through the crowd of people - never looking back.

Four nights later.

Spike stepped into the bar quietly, hands shoved deep into the pockets of his infamous duster. Krysta hadn't been around much lately - not after they had kissed and he had shot her down as if she had the plague. Pathetic wasn't a strong enough word for what Spike regarded of himself. He was in love with a dead Slayer who had never loved him nor showed him an ounce of anything but pity in the years they had known one another. He had no ties to Buffy but unfortunately every time he closed his eyes he saw her beautiful face smiling at him. Doomed, another good word used when describing a certain blond vampire. There was a beautiful girl - a clean slate - who knew nothing of his past in Sunnydale and who cared about him. Spike sighed, scanning the room slowly - as he always did since Krysta became MIA after their unfortunate encounter earlier in the week.

To his surprise he caught a faint trace of her scent in the air and turned towards the darker section of the bar. Krysta sat, in all her glory, at one of the single tables - laughing and chatting eagerly with a tall, dark haired guy. He watched with narrowed eyes as she threw her head back in a laugh and touched her company's knee, sliding her hand more towards his thigh. They looked like old marries, deeply in love. "Bloody trollop.." Spike growled, moving towards Krysta without much thought. His girl shagging it up with some sodden' ponce? Not on his watch. He made the few swift steps towards them and stopped just behind the guy - glaring at Krysta from the shadows. "Can we talk?" It was more of a demand.

"Spike! Hey, this is Gr.."

"I don't give a fuck what his name is, Krysta." He snapped, reaching over to take her by the arm - jerking her to her feet and pulling her into his chest. Greg, dark haired boy, stood to his feet and turned to face Spike quickly. "Hey man, what's your problem?" He demanded, looking at Krysta. "Fuck you." Spike's word's dripped with venom - causing several of the people around them to back away or leave the bar all together. "Spike?! What the hell?" Krysta yelled, trying to jerk her arm away from him. Who did he think he was? Spike tightened his grip and pulled her away from Greg. "Fuck you, asshole! Where do you get off--." Greg tried to shove Spike back in a failed attempt - only pushing him backwards in the process. That's all it seemed to take to break Spike's control - he let go of Krysta's arm and punched Greg in the face - sending him flying backwards into one of the unoccupied tables. Splintering the wood easily. "Shit! Spike?! What the hell! Are you crazy?" Krysta demanded, putting her hands on his chest as he tried to push past her towards Greg. The hand he was using to drag her away cave man style was now pressed tightly to his temple - a look of pure pain on his features as the surge of the chip sparked in his brain. "I just wanted to talk to you! Who the fuck does HE think HE is acting like I can't talk to you!" Spike continued to yell obstinacies in Greg's general direction - causing several of the bouncers to move in on their little gathering. "Spike! Please.. just come outside with me.. come on.." Her hand slipped into his free one which seemed to calm him somewhat as they moved through the bar and to the exit.

Once they were outside Spike took in a deep, useless breath - glaring at his company.

"Krysta! What the fuck? I'm not good enough to talk to now because I won't fuck you!?"

Krysta stared at Spike in shock - four days ago she had considered him a very close friend, tonight - no so much. "Why are you doing this?" She asked, trying to keep the emotion from her words. The rims of her eyes were pooling up with tears as she spoke. "I thought that we had something, Spike - a real connection with each other.." Her voice trailed as she wiped away the few tears that fell down her cheek. The unexplainable rage inside Spike was quickly fading at the sight of her tears. He had no right to be jealous of whom she talked to - she wasn't his to keep. Spike closed his eyes in despair. "I'm sorry.." His voice barely a whisper. "I don't want to hurt you.."

Krysta lifted her hand to stop him. She didn't want to hear the whole 'I love you but I'm not in love with you' speech - not from Spike. She thought they had something special - something untouched by so many people in the world but apparently he would never be able to move on from whatever train wreck he had left in California. A small, pain filled sigh escaped her as their eyes met. It really was a shame because he was soo sexy. "It was a mistake, okay? Apparently I let my imagination get the best of me - I thought that you were into me, too but I was wrong and I'm sorry.. we can just go back to being.." She thought for a moment. "..whatever we were before we kissed - come on, you can buy me a drink."

Spike stared at Krysta in disbelief as she walked down the alley and towards the street. "We're going to have to find another bar, though - I don't think you should go back in there." Spike couldn't seem to find his footing. Krysta was just as messed up as he was. Burying all those feelings deep inside for no one to find was really going to catch up with them one day.