Future Written in Blood ((Complete))

Title: Future Written in Blood, Chapter 1
Author: MadRog
Email: madrog@ev1.net
Rating: R
Category: Spike/Buffy
Disclaimers: I don't own any of the characters, it's all owned by Joss Wheldon and Mutant Enemy. Yada, Yada :)
Status: Work in Progress. R & R please!


I cannot thank my beta, Isis, enough. She has been wonderful and has such fabulous insight. Thanks, honey! It has been such fun. And you guys read her story – Yellow Skies by Isis :)


*****Background Note: The story includes season five with a few of my own alterations. Here’s my twist in short form: Spike’s chip is still in. He is friends with Dawn but not infatuated with Buffy (so no stalking or Buffybot). Fool for Love still happened but not the attempted kiss. Accordingly, Crush never happened, but Harmony has left. Spike helped the Scoobies save Dawn from Glory, and Buffy never died. So in other words, this story is an alternate version of how Spuffy could (or should) come about.




Chapter 1, Pennies from Heaven:

“Help…No…Please NO! Don’t touch me.” Carol, a tall brunette, was struggling in a dark alley with two attackers. “I’ll give you my money. Take the whole purse - Just don’t hurt me. Somebody HELP!”

As she kicked at her assailants, she also mentally kicked herself. This was Sunnydale, known for mysterious disappearances and murders, so she had known it was dangerous walking to work along its deserted streets at 5AM. However, her car had broken down three blocks back. Desperate for money and thus needing to keep her job at the bakery, she had set out for work on foot. Carol had almost made it to the street where the bakery was located when strong, large hands wrapped around her arms and jerked her into an darkened alley. Two young punks had been hiding like cowards in the darkness, but when she got a look at their faces, she realized that they weren’t men at all. All she could see was yellow eyes, wrinkled faces and fangs. ‘What in God’s name were these creatures?’ she thought, not knowing that God wouldn’t have anything to do with these two.

*****
‘What a bloody marvelous night!’ Spike congratulated himself on a good nights work. His idea of work, at least. Earlier that evening, the vampire had helped the Scoobies wipe out a gang of Shreila demons. The blokes usually just stuck to stealing but this group of mental giants had moved on to murder. At the nauseatingly self-righteous Scoobie meeting the night before, the Slayer had announced that she was having none of their antics, which was perfectly fine with this vampire. When the Slayer had first mentioned taking on some Shreilas, Spike saw a opportunity for a tidy profit, and before the attack plan was completely formulated by the Scoobies, Spike was already seeing dollar signs. He lined up a fence before they had ever started the actual raid.

The silly Shreila buggers had gone down easily, but Spike had enjoyed taking out the three he had trounced. However, when the Scoobies headed for the Bronze, Spike circled back to the lair, nabbing some of the gang’s spoils. After stashing a new TV and VCR at his crypt, he took the rest and hocked it before another hour was up. Then he went on a little shopping spree of his own. Spike first stocked up on cigarettes, Weetabix, and other miscellaneous essential and luxuries including a new CD for the Nibblet, and now he had just come out of the butcher’s shop with a two week supply of blood with money to spare. Sporting a smug bounce in his step and a cigarette dangling from his lips, Spike headed back to his crypt since the sun would be rising in an hour or so. As he passed an alley, he could hear a scuffle and a woman pleading for her safety, if not her life. Glancing down, Spike groaned when he made out two fledglings harassing a woman that looked to be in her mid-thirties.


“No style, no panache. Youngsters these days…” Spike snickered continuing on his way. “None of your concern, Spike ole boy, if two pillocks want to have a bit of fun.”

Nonetheless, her pitiful voice floated back to him, “My daughter needs me, no, no…”

As clear as if she were standing in front of him, Spike could suddenly see Joyce’s face. ‘Oh, mum, why the visit now?’ She looked like one of the last times Spike had seen Joyce with her younger daughter, Dawn. The Nibblet had just come home from a friend’s house complaining of some minor tiff, and he had watched as Joyce had handled it with her usual grace. God, he missed that woman. “Bloody Hell. What a ponce I am. Save me from mums and their daughters.” Sharply turning around, Spike headed back to the alley and came up behind the two fledglings as they tussled the woman back and forth between them. “Didn’t your sire ever tell you it’s not polite to play with your food?”

Spike drove a stake through the back of the closest vampire and watched with a satisfied grin as the dust cloud began to settle. The second vampire just froze as Spike turned his own yellow eyes towards the fool. “Tsk, tsk, tsk. The deer-in-the-headlight look just isn’t a good look for you, mate.” Spike lunged to finish the bloke off quick. This fledgling wasn’t very big but much faster than he looked. He unexpectedly jumped to the right, avoiding the serious end of Spike’s stake. Then he punched Spike in the jaw. As Spike recovered his balance, he slowly set his bag on the concrete and absently wiped the blood from the corner of his mouth. Glancing down at his own blood on his fingers, Spike spoke in a low voice, “Oh, got a little spunk in your after all, boy? Good, let’s have a proper go then.”

What the fledgling lacked in strength, the little wanker made up in speed and survival instincts. He dodged quite well, in fact, evading Spike’s punches. As Spike maneuvered the wily bugger into a corner, Spike faked a right and swung left but only caught air. The fledgling was lying on the ground unconscious.

A moment passed before the changed situation surrounding him could properly register on Spike’s brain. Now the woman was standing at his side, holding a pipe, staring down at the vamp she had just knocked out cold. ‘God, you’ve got a love a woman that can handle a piece of iron like that,’ Spike thought as he held a stake out to the woman. “Here, mum, you can do the honors. Mind that you hit the heart.”

The woman lookedat Sat Spike with luminous eyes, “What?”

Wiggling the stake in front of her face, Spike tried to prod her, “Go ahead. Drive the stake through this git’s heart so he’ll go all puff and we can be on our separate ways.”

Carol took a step back, shocked. Her eyes drawn back to the felled vampire, but she was shaking her head at Spike’s suggestion. “I can’t do that…I just can’t do that.”

When she was holding that pipe, this lady in front of him again reminded Spike a great deal of the Slayer’s mother who had once clobbered him with an axe. This lady had spunk just like Joyce had. Turning to face her but keeping the downed vamp in his peripheral vision, Spike asked, “You said you had a daughter you need to live for, didn’t you?”

She turned her eyes up to meet Spike’s, nodding now.

Satisfied that he had gained her full attention, Spike tilted his head to the side before continuing, “Understand this, that bloke wanted to separate you from your daughter - forever.” He leaned down briefly to point out the best point of entry when the women still hesitated, but Spike could tell she really wanted to stake the puke. He stood back up beside her and whispered close to her ear, “Maybe he will go after your daughter next time, instead of you. Wouldn’t want him snacking on your little sweat meat, would you?”

‘That’s the ticket,’ Spike thought. The woman grabbed the stake out of Spike’s hand and shoved it through the vamp’s heart, stepping back, trying to wave away the resulting dust cloud.

With a satisfied smirk, Spike took out a cigarette and lit up, leaning casually on a wall and watching the woman gather her wits back together.

“Thank you. Can I…? How can I…?”

Spike blew out a slow, long string of smoke. “No need, pet.”

Carol took a step towards Spike, arms out stretched, “But I want to…”

‘Bloody hell, what was the woman going to do? Hug him?’ That had Spike ducking, and they both heard the clink of his lighter hitting the pavement. “Ah…look mum, the sun will be up soon which means I got to get home. How about you wish me luck in my poker game tomorrow night? Damn, where’d I drop my lighter?”

While Spike searched though the refuse scattered about the alley, the woman picked up Spike’s bag from the butcher, saying a few quiet words in Latin and smiling when the contents momentarily glowed from within.

Having located his favorite lighter, Spike turned back to the woman, “Here it is. Would have been really pissed to have lost that. Er…Excuse the language, mum, but I’ve had it for some thirty odd years or so. Now where’s my package?”

“Here you go, sir.”

“Sir? Ha.” Spike shook his head while trying to repress a smile. “Where’re you headed, mum?”

“I work at the bread shop around the corner.”

“Well, let’s get you there safe and sound this time, why don’t we?” Escorting Carol out onto the street, Spike glanced up towards the heavens and certainly hoped Joyce appreciated this. A Big Bad walking a perfectly good meal to her place of business. Spike couldn’t figure out if this was one of life’s little jokes or pranks.

*****

At times, the poker game felt surreal to Spike. In fact, he felt like he had never woken up from the dream he had earlier that day. He could see that Clem had a pair of tens. Z’hrak, a Clossek Demon, was bluffing with a hand of utter rubbish. ‘The cheeky bastard,’ Spike thought. ‘Bloke isn’t even holding a pair.’ Ned, a harmless Nouf Demon, was holding two aces and two nines. Not bad by half, but the only problem was that Clem was just beginning to deal the hand, and with an intense feeling of déjà vu, Spike had known the outcome of the current hand before the last card was tossed onto the table.

Wait, was that the Twilight Zone music playing in the back ground? Bugger it all, had he really dreamed this game the night before? Spike himself was holding three fours. Normally, not the best of hands, but Spike shoved what little caution he had to fly off in the wind with as much ease as he tossed all his chips into the pot. The hand played out as he knew it would with his three of a kind taking the win.

Much to Spike’s disappointment, the next hand dealt by Z’hrak played out normally. No premonition, no hocus pocus, just bleedin’ zip. Try as he might, he couldn’t tell what anyone was holding except for Ned who was squirming enough to make Spike suspect that the silly git was barely holding his bladder.

Later when Ned dealt the sixth hand, Spike’s vision blurred around the edges, and he saw his own left hand throwing a full house on top of a rather large stack of chips. When his vision cleared, he was looking down at his cards which he was currently holding: an ace, a three, a queen, and two sevens. What the hell? That full house he had seen was three sevens and two queens. Holding onto the queen and sevens, Spike drew another seven and queen. Full house, a frickin’ jack pot! Damn, it was good to be him tonight, Spike laughed to himself. He tripled his stakes when he easily won.

Spike’s premonitions sporadically occurred four more times during the remainder of the game. Two hours down the demon gambling line brought his obvious “lucky” streak to a head with the other players. Z’hrak called him a cheat while Sammy looked around for a stake to dust him. Obligingly, Spike took off his duster and shir pro prove he didn’t have any cards up his sleeve. Normally, he would have been ready to kill any blighter that sullied his name even if he had been cheating but this night had gone so well. Nothing could ruin his spirits.

Arrogantly, Spike played one more hand with no premonitions and no shirt. Oh, the beautiful Lady Luck was still hanging on his arm, though. Clem was the only one not impressed. He was just a little distracted and majorly grossed out due to Spike’s lack of wrinkles. When the game ended, Spike gathered up his winnings and was certainly glad now that they had played for money instead of kittens that night. Blunt was a sight easier to spend than squirming felines.

As he walked through the bar, he stopped off for a beer to celebrate. While casually sampling his Guinness, Spike watched a spot of ESPN showing on the telly above the bar while thoroughly enjoying the slightly uncomfortable bulge of the wad of money in his jean’s front pocket. Capturing his attention, the two announcers, who were desperately trying for a few funnies, speculated on the heavy weight prize fight that was to take place the next evening featuring the heavily favored belt holder. The current heavy weight champ was McKain, and some Esteban bloke was the puffed up contender who had been on the advantageous end of a mandatory defense clause in the champ’s contract. Judging from what the talking heads were blabbing on about, the underdog didn’t have a vamp’s chance in the Sahara.

As Spike watched the playbacks of each fighter’s previous matches, he recognized the signs of a coming premonition. His ears started to tingle and vision blur before he found himself staring at a completely different scene that he should have been. He found himself looking at the two fighters that the announcers had been discussing. But instead of promo pictures and photo opportunities, both were covered in sweat, circling each other in a boxing ring. McKain’s right eye was nearly swollen shut while blood dripped from Esteban’s nose. Then as clear as if he were standing at ring side, Spike watched Esteban sneak in a right upper cut between McKain’s guard, viciously snapping the champ’s head back. The crowd boomed with a roar that McKain never heard since his proverbial bell had been rung before his body even hit the mat. Then Spike’s vision blurred again, leaving the ire ire gazing again at the telly above the bar.

As if his stool were ablaze, Spike sprung up from his seat as inspiration struck. He had money to spare and knew who was going to win tomorrow night’s prize fight. He didn’t need some gypsy to read his palm to know that he had a trip in his future.rowirowing a few bills on the bar to pay his tab, Spike sauntered out the door, humming.

The bartender watched the blonde vamp go, suspecting Spike had been humming Viva Las Vegas. Funny, he had always thought Spike to be a Billy Idol fan instead of Elvis.

After checking to make sure the DeSoto was in top form and the black paint on the windows was still in tact, Spike packed a few essentials. Of course he grabbed a couple packs of smokes, but he also packed a four day supply of blood. He didn’t expect to stay longer than a couple of days, but he wanted to spend his time winning some unsuspecting casino’s money instead of hunting down a butcher that would sell blood by the pint. Then Spike was off, and this time, anyone listening could not mistake the tune the vampire sung while cruising down the highway, “Viva, Viva, Vivaaa Las Vegaaassssss!”


TBC

Oh, man, I have been sweating over this story, but I think it is going to be great!!

Please let me know what you think. Please, please…