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Pairing: Spike/Xander |
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Letters of . . .
by
Cobalt Mystic
1 ...a Witch
Thankfully, he’d exited just as her last tendril of restraint left her and a full second before a dainty hand connected with flesh. "Incorrigible heathens, the lot of you," she cursed as her hand struck it's target with more force than should have been possible.
She turned to follow the young man out, but a firm hand gripped her wrist, "Not very ladylike of you my dear."
Without hesitation she faced her captor grinning evilly, "And what, pray tell, would you know of being a lady? Though I assure you that if you do not release me you will become intimately familiar with the concept." Her smile never faltered as she pressed a small dagger into the man’s crotch and watched with satisfaction as the blood drained from his face and he released his grip on her. With a nod and a flick of her wrist she strode out to seek the young man who was her only reason for being with these people in the first place.
He had been an enigma to her- even now much of him still was. He radiated of a strength and compassion far beyond anything she’d ever encountered, yet he was so quiet, almost mousy, and he seemed to have no concept of the power that poured off of him.
They had quite literally (and oh, so cliché-ly) run into each other outside a bookseller’s. He’d been the perfect gentleman even while stumbling over himself trying to gather fallen books and offering numerous apologies. And she had only been able to stare. Imagine, at her age with enough decades for six lifetimes behind her, one quiet spoken Victorian caused her to gape and lose all powers of speech.
She had known from that first encounter that she had found the person she had searched for, that she had to, was meant to protect and guide him however much she could without altering his path. After her first vision, she knew it would be a hard road for him, one which she would not be able to physically accompany him on- hence, the letters. It had been difficult and tiring; so many years to comb, so many visions to analyze, so many letters to write, but somehow she had managed. There were well over a hundred letters now; all with arrangements for delivery set and handsomely paid for.
As she made her way through the dimly lit London streets, she steeled herself for the confrontation to come. There would be no going back after tonight- this was her moment, her destiny.
The sound that escaped her mouth upon arriving at her destination should have been a horrified scream, not a deep guttural command to "Stop!" But a command was exactly what it was; a command that a rather large portion of London was currently obeying.
Ignoring the hisses, curses, and growls of the vampires she had interrupted, she calmly walked over to the time-frozen man she had come to think of as her boy. Never taking her eyes from him, she asked, "You were planning to turn my boy, were you not?"
"He’s not your boy!" the dark male vamp growled.
Unphased by the vampire’s aggression, she caressed the soft cheek of her young man before turning her attention to the vampires. She looked them over appraisingly, cocking her head to the side before meeting their eyes.
The girl, she noticed, had enough sense to step back when eyes burning with green fire met golden ones as she spoke, "And who are you, Childer of the House of Aurelius, to tell ME what is or is not mine?"
At the realization of what, if not precisely who, he was dealing with sunk in even the angry male cowed slightly.
She waved her hand dismissively and turned her attention back to her boy, "Never mind." She ran her long fingers through his hair and over tender lips, "You will turn him, and when he wakes, I will be his first kill." Turning back to the now stunned vampires she questioned, "Understood?"
For the first time the girl spoke, "Yes Lady, as you say."
She smiled at that, "Good. Now, Drusilla isn’t it, I believe I interrupted you."
Drusilla smiled a truly terrifying happy smile, "Thank you, Lady," then looked to her companion for approval.
A nod of his head and Drusilla was back at the boy’s neck.
With a quick gesture of her hand, time began to flow properly again, and she stood by watching as her precious boy died.
2...a Vamp
As his eyes flew open a soft, "Bugger," passed through perfect pink lips while the lingering image of green tinged fire melded the real world with his dream. It never boded well when he had those dreams. "Bloody witches," he muttered, rubbing his face as he climbed out of bed.
He never remembered the dreams just the fiery green eyes that taunted him. It was always the same with those eyes, always right before something big happened. He saw them before Dru left, before Angelus came back, before the damned Initiative and the chip, before Buffy died, and now before gods know what.
It was times like these he could almost understand his broody Grandsire. Not that he’d admit it even with his unlife in the balance, but he could understand having someone else in your head, someone who was a relentless reminder of all the things the Big Bad should never be.
And people wondered why he had a thing about witches- see how you feel about them when you’ve had one in your head for a hundred plus years. Alright, so it wasn’t as if she was evil- hells, that might have made things easier- but no she was kind and protective and sent him letters. Always when he needed it, ALWAYS! Bloody sodding witches! She was dead. He’d killed her. His first, thank you very much. But he supposed that was the problem, she had been his first kill and she’d wanted it that way.
She told him things that night, about honour and strength and love. She hadn’t been afraid either, she held his hand and caressed his face- his gameface. The only thing she asked for was to see his eyes one last time.
Her gaze never left his face as he fought to morph his features into their human visage and she smiled blissfully when blue eyes finally met brown ones. They stayed like that a few moments, staring, lost in each other.
Then he heard her voice sounding as if it was speaking to and from the very core of his being, "I love you, William. I always will." As the words resonated through his mind, her deep brown eyes began to glow and turn a blazing green.
"It’s time, love," she whispered baring her neck to him.
The demon didn’t hesitate as he sunk virgin fangs into her taut hot flesh. The shear intensity of it must have overwhelmed him because the next thing he remembered Dru was fussing over him as Angelus pried their hands apart- through it all she’d never released his hand. Bloody witches!!!!
He needed to kill something- preferably something he could drain. And a drink. Yes, that sounded good- he’d go scout the cemeteries, then head over to Willy’s.
Besides if he was having the dreams a letter couldn’t be too far off and since his current stint in Sunnyhell they’d been arriving at Willy’s, so with any luck he’d kill two birds with one stone.
~*~*~*~*~
He sat at the bar and read and re-read the letter.
As always her timing was impeccable, but the contents… Oh, he was used to them varying in length, detail, context, even style to an extent- some were succinct and to the point and others were poncy enough for Peaches but this one was… odd.
Hello William-
Feel better? Nothing like a good fight to lift your spirits, yes. It will be our little secret that it protects your friends as well. They are your friends, William, despite what you or they believe at this moment; you’ve finally found what you’ve longed for- a family and acceptance.
Now then, about your family, what are your intentions for young Alexander? He above all needs you and only the child Dawn comes close to his caring. Just think on it, love.
All too soon you will have a decision to make and yes, love, it will be fraught with pain. I can only give you these words, heed them well: You have the strength; do not fear the fight.
3...a Lover
The crypt was different now, then again everything was different now, but somehow the crypt was comforting (and boy wasn’t that a scary thought) and not because of Clem’s attempts to ‘cheer’ up the place. If he was honest with himself it was because it reminded him of Spike.
Despite or maybe because of everything that had happened he missed the Bleached Wonder, he missed the snarkage, the bad tv, even the no-longer-quite-so-disgusting blood as a condiment and the stains it left everywhere. It had all become the normality of his life.
He told himself that was the only reason he came here.
And if he found himself lying in Spike’s bed it was only because he was tired.
And if he rummaged through what was left of Spike’s things it was only payback.
And if, on occasion, he found himself curled with something still smelling of Spike and a stray tear or two escaped, well, it was only because of life.
Yes, that’s what he told himself, and with a lifetime on the Hellmouth his denial skills almost allowed him to believe it.
Almost.
There were little things that got in the way of believing that. Like the wedding-that-wasn’t, and yes, he’d meant every word he’d said to Anya that day; he’d just ignored the part about his possible feelings for a certain bleach blonde dead man. Then there was the whole Spike and Anya thing; he truly didn’t know what hurt more, that Anya had slept with Spike or that Spike had slept with Anya. And of course there was Buffy.
The Buffy situation was a huge sticking point- how could Spike do that? They had trusted him, he had trusted him and then for Spike to just run away. And how completely un-Spike-like was that? Spike never ran from anything, except maybe Angelus but that was more for Dru’s sake. Spike didn’t run.
On the flipside that meant that he’d be coming back- it had to. The rest of the Scoobies thought that he’d gone to get the chip out and if or when he came back it would be to reclaim his role as the Big Bad, Master of Sunnydale. Only he, Dawn, and Tara had thought differently. Spike had changed, they could see it, so why couldn’t the others? Maybe they just didn’t want to.
Of course that was before. Tara was dead. And now that Dawn knew what had almost happened with her sis she only felt betrayed; Xander understood that, even agreed with it. Still, it didn’t make him miss the Bleached Menace any less and now with Tara and Willow gone and everything that happened since Spike left, he missed him even more. Damn-it, as much as he hated to say it, he missed his fucking vampire!
~*~*~*~*~
It wasn’t everyday a man in a three-piece suit showed up at a construction site. It was even rarer for such a man to not be the bearer of bad news. So when this particular man arrived people noticed. People took even more notice when he was sent in the direction of one Xander Harris.
"Excuse me, are you Alexander Harris?"
"Who’s asking and why?"
"My card, sir." He handed Xander a very officious looking business card proclaiming him to be a lawyer with some pretentious firm in L.A.
"Okay, that’s the who. What about the why?"
"Are you Mr. Harris?"
Xander sighed. Damn lawyers. "Yes."
"Then, sir, I have a delivery for you." The man pulled a large manila envelop from his case and handed it to the young man. "Good day, sir," and he wandered off.
Xander waited until he got home to open the package and was glad he did. He doubted he would have been able to concentrate on anything else once he saw the contents.
Inside the envelop was a second letter sized envelop. The paper looked like it could have come from one of Giles’ books and the handwriting was nothing short of exquisite. A beautiful flowing cursive hand had written his name, his full name, and ‘Sunny Dale, California 2002’. Alright, so this was a little on the weird side, but hello Hellmouth, weird was a way of life. Carefully, he opened the letter and read:
Alexander, you must help William, please. He is lost and even I cannot reach him- there are too many voices. Please Alexander, if you care for my boy a fraction of what I believe you do help him.
He needs us- you and I. I can guide you to what you need to know but you must determine when and how to use it.
The second letter you hold is for William. Keep it with you until you find him. Now, Alexander this may seem unnecessary but I ask that you trust me. When you find him, read the letter to him and ensure his attention is only on you and the letter. He needs to hear the words unadulterated, to hear the truth in them.
Also, in the wall behind his bed is a box, the contents of which may aid you both.
Find him and help him remember. Help him find you. Help him find me. Help him find himself, again.
Have faith in yourself Alexander, just as I do,
Alyssa
Yes, it was definitely good that he had waited until he got home. He needed a stiff drink.
4...Inquiry
He couldn’t believe he was making this call, but he needed information and knew he didn’t know enough to find it on his own. Unfortunately, he knew who would- now, if they’d just answer the phone!
"Angel Investigations, we help…"
"Wes! Just the researcher I need."
"Xander? Is everything alright?"
"If you mean has anyone else died or are we in the throes of another apocalypse then no, or well, yes… I mean everyone’s okay. I’ve just never been big on the research and need some pointers."
"Ah, well, right then, how can I help?"
"Where do I start?"
Taking a calming breath, "Alright, Xander, let’s try this- what do you know?"
"Her name, or part of it."
"So, it’s female."
"Yes."
"Old?"
"Probably."
For not the first time Wesley was in awe of his former colleague, how Giles had managed with the likes of Xander Harris never ceased to amaze him, "Demon?"
"Maybe."
"New girlfriend?"
"No… Hey! Wes, I’m serious. Listen I don’t know much except her name and somehow she knows Spike."
"Spike! He’s come back?"
"Not yet, but she seems to think he will."
"She being the reason for the research."
"Yes!" Finally it seemed he was getting somewhere.
"Alright Xander, calm down. I’m sorry; give me the name and I’ll see what we can find out."
"Alyssa, A-L-Y-S-S-A. Oh, and she calls him William, not Spike, if that helps. And thanks Wes. Can you call me on my cell if you find anything?"
"Of course Xander, and not to worry we’ll find out who she is."
~*~*~*~*~
"Angel, thank goodness! Will you please tell them this is pointless!?"
"What’s…"
"Under normal circumstances I might agree Cordelia, but Xander actually called us to ask for our help." Before Angel could form the question, Wes answered him, "Everyone’s alright, he merely needs some research assistance. Actually, I was hoping you might be able to expedite matters."
"Sure. What exactly are we researching?"
"Alyssa."
If his heart hadn’t stopped beating some two-hundred years ago, it would have now.
"I take it you know of this person."
"Her full name’s Morgan Alyssa Cerridlyall- someone get me Xander’s number."
~*~*~*~*~
"Hello?"
"What did she say?"
"Oh fine Deadboy and how’s your unlife? Good to hear from you too."
"Xander, I’m sorry, but what did she say?"
"She who?"
"Alyssa."
"Oh, umm, just that Spike would need our help when he comes back."
"Our?"
"Yeah, hers and mine."
"Xander, listen to me, you have to be careful with her. She’s..."
"Hold up, you know her? So, why’s she asking for my help instead of yours?"
"We… tolerated each other."
"You mean she doesn’t like you." I like her more already. "So, who is she?"
"She was a witch."
"In case you missed it, I have known a few of those."
"Yes, but she’s very powerful."
"Is the blood in L.A. not doing the trick? Umm, Willow ringing any bells for you?"
"Damn-it Xander, Alyssa was the most powerful witch I have ever known. I’d be hard pressed to tell you who was more powerful- Alyssa or Willow."
"O-kay, point taken. But if she’s that powerful, why does she need my help?"
"Might have something to do with the fact that she’s dead."
"Dead as in vamp dead or as in normal human dead?"
"Normal dead. She died in the 1800’s."
"Wait, if she died in the 1800’s, why’s she so concerned about Spike?"
"She knew William, and is very protective of him."
"You killed her, didn’t you? That’s why she’s asking me instead of you?"
"No. Xander, I swear to you, I did not kill her. I’ll e-mail you if we find anything else- just be careful."
Well, that was odd, even for Deadboy. Wonder if he could’ve been any vaguer- not exactly overflowing with the information. On the other hand Xander now knew she was a witch and dead. It wasn’t much but considering what he’d started with, it was something.
5...Recovery, Pt 1Healing
Fuck it and fuck Angel. Eww, didn’t need that image. Spike needed help and he was going to get it. He checked and re-checked that he had everything, silently praying to whoever was listening that he could do this.
"Hey Spike? You down here buddy?"
Whether or not this worked he had to get Spike out of here. It couldn’t be good for his sanity- what little he had left.
"Come on Bloodbreath, I know you’re here. I brought you some blood, even sprung for the good stuff… Damn-it Spike we need to talk!"
"’bout what?"
Xander turned toward the voice, trying to make out where his vamp was ensconced. "About these," as he tossed the bundle towards the voice.
He watched with satisfaction as the bundle was plucked from the air exposing the vamp’s hiding place.
"Where’d you get these?"
Sitting down in front of Spike, or at least Spike’s voice, "You know where- the crypt, behind the bed. There’s another one- letter I mean. She said I should read it to you."
"She did, did she? Well, you’d better read it then."
"Um, she said I had to make sure you were focused on it."
"Bloody hell." Suddenly Xander found himself face to face with a very unhealthy looking vampire. "Better?"
"Jesus, Spike, you look like shit."
"Wasn’t expecting company."
He smiled wryly, "Good thing I was," and handed him a coffee thermos. "Here, drink, before it congeals."
Spike gingerly took the thermos, sniffing the warm liquid before setting it aside. "Thanks."
"Spike, you have to eat."
"Do I?"
"Well, no. You could sit here in the dark wallowing and brooding and acting like fucking Deadboy while you slowly starve to death and leave the people who care about you to wonder why you abandoned them and what more they could have done." The young man paused for a breath, "Did I mention the part about turning into Angel?"
Reluctantly, Spike picked up the flask and drank. Bloody Whelp would have to play the Angel card. "Happy?"
"No, but it’s a start. Now drink up so I can read this to you."
"Yes, Mother."
Once he got the vampire to start drinking it was no time at all before the thermos was emptied.
"More?" Another flask materialized from Xander’s bag.
Spike eyed him warily, but took the proffered container.
"What? I didn’t know when you’d eaten last and despite popular opinion I’d rather not be vamp food."
Spike merely nodded and started on the new bottle. When it was drained, he looked pointedly at Xander. "So, you gonna read me the letter or what?"
Xander reverently took the letter from his pocket, unfolded it, and making sure he did indeed have Spike’s attention he began to read.
William, I need you to listen, love. Listen to Alexander, concentrate on his voice, hear the words and hear me in them. William, you need to fight; fight for me; fight for who you truly are.
Many years ago I met a beautiful intelligent miraculous young man. A man who had no idea of his strength and power. I gave my life for him- to him- for I could see the man he would become. I saw the blood he would spill, the sorrow he would cause, the heartache he would bare, the daemons he would vanquish, and the love he had to give. I saw the truth of him.
I have seen much in my three-hundred years. I watched as my family, everyone I had known and loved, and generations of their descendents died. I have seen wars fought over nothing and everything. I have seen those touted as great and noble succumb to greed and power. I’m no saint, William, for I have seen myself traverse these roads. Yet unlike most I had the will and the time to turn back.
For over half my life I had searched for someone worthy of my knowledge and of my aide. Someone who needed me, someone who had the heart to see all their faults to face the pain and to survive it. I found that someone in a quiet young Englishman; now you must find me.
It is time, love.
I love you, William. I always will.
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