Getting the Girl (1/1)
Oct. 26th, 2008 10:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
sevendeadlyfunCharacters: Andrew, Spike, Faith
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He knows that voice. The evil Slayer, as dark as her sister Slayer is bright; and of all the cemeteries in the world she’s in his.
A/N: Based heavily (which is to say entirely) on Buffy Season 8 comics canon and a tish bit on Angel: After the Fall. Set in a possible/AU future where Faith and Giles are now actively working against Buffy and the Scoobies with the help of a now-released from Hell-A Spike. Andrew is an official Watcher with many Slayers under his command. I won't say there are spoilers here, but if you have not read the comics, you may (like my fabulous beta,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
noandwhere) be a tish bit confused.
Revenge of the Author's Note: This entire story was inspired by a comment I made over![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
fanficrants based on a horrible "Who gets the girl, Spike or Angel?" summary, only the original had less punctuation and worse spelling. I said that the horrible cliched plot summary made me want to write a story where Andrew gets the girl. So after much encouragement, I did.
It’s always an adventure. He likes adventures, the feeling of being free and in touch with fate, destiny, the calling. Well, okay not his calling exactly but it is a calling and he’s part of the whole thing and so it sort of counts. Maybe not though because Xander is part of the whole thing too, and yet he maintains an air of humility, a masculine nobility that fits him as well as his tight, black jumpsuit.
The jumpsuit. The duckie pajamas. The Xander-ness of Xander. It’s right up there with the Spike-ness of Spike. A mystery wrapped in a dream wrapped in…some other sort of unknowable thing.
“Well, lookie who I found.”
He knows that voice. The evil Slayer, as dark as her sister Slayer is bright; and of all the cemeteries in the world she’s in his. Not his. He doesn’t own the cemetery. But it’s the cemetery he’s currently in and that makes it his. Kind of.
“Faith,” he acknowledges, aiming for cool. He suspects he may have missed by an octave or so. “What brings you to this lonely corner of death and desolation?”
“Same thing as you, I imagine.” She smiles at him sardonically. “Hunting up a baby Slayer. Giles sent us.”
“Us?” He asks nervously. A rogue Slayer teamed up with a rogue Watcher is two more rogues than he feels comfortable with.
“Yep,” she confirms, her cherry red lips popping on the final 'p' sound. “Got your hero with me. Somewhere.” She shrugs one shoulder.
Andrew glances left and right, wondering what feat of dark magic she and the-now clearly evil-Rupert Giles could have conjured that would have brought pre-Palpatine Anakin to life. Although, could the magics be all that dark if the end result is a strong, handsome Jedi, ready to stand by his side, or slightly in front, and do battle against the forces of evil?
“Bloody hell.” The words lack their normal gusto, but they’re quintessential Spike
“Spike! Wait. Why is it every time I see you these days, you’re part of a band of evildoers?” Andrew asks, mind whirling. “Have you lost your soul?”
“ ‘Lo, Andrew and no, I’m just as souled as I ever was,” Spike replies. “What’re you doing in Cleveland? Besides looking like a right ponce in tweed,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.
Andrew squirms a little under the piercing light of those bright blue eyes. He’d specifically asked his girls if tweed was overdoing the Watcher bit, but they’d assured him tweed was exactly what a new Slayer needed to see. Here, next to the dark leather-clad villains, he admits that perhaps a round of Evil Eye for the Good Guy might not be such a bad thing. Evil always dresses well.
Before he can answer, the sound of battle carries across the still Cleveland night. Somewhere in the gloom, a Slayer fights for her life and the lives of those she holds dear. Faith and Spike wheel around, preternatural bodies moving in a graceful, if speedy, ballet. Andrew scurries after them. He doesn’t try to catch up to them.
He’s not the hero of this piece and he knows it. Once upon a time, he yearned to be center stage. But The fall of Sunnydale convinced him that being the big star wasn’t exactly the life of a god he'd imagined it to be. He saw what fate and destiny did to Buffy. So he doesn’t mind being support staff because those big bright spotlights only leave you cold and scared and dead.
“Her name is Marie,” he pants, coming up behind the two still figures. “She’s 32, one son, just got her degree in Accounting.”
That’s why he doesn’t have to run fast, why he wears tweed instead of leather. He’s a Watcher. He might even be good at it. Buffy said so and that was nice. Although not the part where she sounded all surprised.
“She was pretty pissed about being called,” he observes softly. “Said she didn’t deserve to have her life screwed up by some know-it-all teen-ager with more hair than brains.”
“Has a point there,” Spike says, nodding once.
“Means she might be receptive to Giles’s message,” Faith shoots back, eye cutting towards him. “Let’s go give her a hand.”
Andrew sits down on an uprooted headstone. The dirt is dark and rich, smelling more of life and growing things than of death. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a yo-yo. No way to rush this and waiting around cemeteries gets pretty boring.
Of course, the last time he brought his Game Boy™ on patrol it got destroyed and he hasn’t had a chance to replace it. Turns out some vampires will ignore your tasty blood supply in favor of stealing your Legend of Zelda cartridge. In retrospect, he admits that having a slap fight with a vampyre over a hand-held gaming system was probably not his finest moment. Especially because he lost and now he’s stuck trying to decide between a reconditioned replacement of his classic or giving in to the future and its new gaming systems.
The battle winds down and there’s a lot of dust floating on the wind. The surprise is that none of the dust is Spike-dust. The new Slayer is talking to him, her face a picture of confusion. She probably remembers him. A vampire trying to help a Slayer is just crazy enough. The Slayer of Slayers trying to help a Slayer is like Fight Club starring Martin Short.
He stands up, smiling slightly as the Slayer walks towards him. He raises a hand towards the two dejected figures she leaves behind. Evil is a hard habit to break and deep down he’s not sure either of them has fallen to the Dark Side. Besides, he still likes Spike, still admires him for his leather coat mojo. Whatever side they’re all on, they have a history together and that means something.
And it doesn’t hurt that he gets the girl again. His smile broadens as he realizes that no matter how much leather coat coolness Spike has, no matter how tough Faith is, they’re walking away empty-handed. He may not be the hero, but he always gets the girl.
Rating: PG-13
Summary: He knows that voice. The evil Slayer, as dark as her sister Slayer is bright; and of all the cemeteries in the world she’s in his.
A/N: Based heavily (which is to say entirely) on Buffy Season 8 comics canon and a tish bit on Angel: After the Fall. Set in a possible/AU future where Faith and Giles are now actively working against Buffy and the Scoobies with the help of a now-released from Hell-A Spike. Andrew is an official Watcher with many Slayers under his command. I won't say there are spoilers here, but if you have not read the comics, you may (like my fabulous beta,
noandwhere) be a tish bit confused.Revenge of the Author's Note: This entire story was inspired by a comment I made over
fanficrants based on a horrible "Who gets the girl, Spike or Angel?" summary, only the original had less punctuation and worse spelling. I said that the horrible cliched plot summary made me want to write a story where Andrew gets the girl. So after much encouragement, I did.It’s always an adventure. He likes adventures, the feeling of being free and in touch with fate, destiny, the calling. Well, okay not his calling exactly but it is a calling and he’s part of the whole thing and so it sort of counts. Maybe not though because Xander is part of the whole thing too, and yet he maintains an air of humility, a masculine nobility that fits him as well as his tight, black jumpsuit.
The jumpsuit. The duckie pajamas. The Xander-ness of Xander. It’s right up there with the Spike-ness of Spike. A mystery wrapped in a dream wrapped in…some other sort of unknowable thing.
“Well, lookie who I found.”
He knows that voice. The evil Slayer, as dark as her sister Slayer is bright; and of all the cemeteries in the world she’s in his. Not his. He doesn’t own the cemetery. But it’s the cemetery he’s currently in and that makes it his. Kind of.
“Faith,” he acknowledges, aiming for cool. He suspects he may have missed by an octave or so. “What brings you to this lonely corner of death and desolation?”
“Same thing as you, I imagine.” She smiles at him sardonically. “Hunting up a baby Slayer. Giles sent us.”
“Us?” He asks nervously. A rogue Slayer teamed up with a rogue Watcher is two more rogues than he feels comfortable with.
“Yep,” she confirms, her cherry red lips popping on the final 'p' sound. “Got your hero with me. Somewhere.” She shrugs one shoulder.
Andrew glances left and right, wondering what feat of dark magic she and the-now clearly evil-Rupert Giles could have conjured that would have brought pre-Palpatine Anakin to life. Although, could the magics be all that dark if the end result is a strong, handsome Jedi, ready to stand by his side, or slightly in front, and do battle against the forces of evil?
“Bloody hell.” The words lack their normal gusto, but they’re quintessential Spike
“Spike! Wait. Why is it every time I see you these days, you’re part of a band of evildoers?” Andrew asks, mind whirling. “Have you lost your soul?”
“ ‘Lo, Andrew and no, I’m just as souled as I ever was,” Spike replies. “What’re you doing in Cleveland? Besides looking like a right ponce in tweed,” he adds, almost as an afterthought.
Andrew squirms a little under the piercing light of those bright blue eyes. He’d specifically asked his girls if tweed was overdoing the Watcher bit, but they’d assured him tweed was exactly what a new Slayer needed to see. Here, next to the dark leather-clad villains, he admits that perhaps a round of Evil Eye for the Good Guy might not be such a bad thing. Evil always dresses well.
Before he can answer, the sound of battle carries across the still Cleveland night. Somewhere in the gloom, a Slayer fights for her life and the lives of those she holds dear. Faith and Spike wheel around, preternatural bodies moving in a graceful, if speedy, ballet. Andrew scurries after them. He doesn’t try to catch up to them.
He’s not the hero of this piece and he knows it. Once upon a time, he yearned to be center stage. But The fall of Sunnydale convinced him that being the big star wasn’t exactly the life of a god he'd imagined it to be. He saw what fate and destiny did to Buffy. So he doesn’t mind being support staff because those big bright spotlights only leave you cold and scared and dead.
“Her name is Marie,” he pants, coming up behind the two still figures. “She’s 32, one son, just got her degree in Accounting.”
That’s why he doesn’t have to run fast, why he wears tweed instead of leather. He’s a Watcher. He might even be good at it. Buffy said so and that was nice. Although not the part where she sounded all surprised.
“She was pretty pissed about being called,” he observes softly. “Said she didn’t deserve to have her life screwed up by some know-it-all teen-ager with more hair than brains.”
“Has a point there,” Spike says, nodding once.
“Means she might be receptive to Giles’s message,” Faith shoots back, eye cutting towards him. “Let’s go give her a hand.”
Andrew sits down on an uprooted headstone. The dirt is dark and rich, smelling more of life and growing things than of death. Reaching into his pocket, he pulls out a yo-yo. No way to rush this and waiting around cemeteries gets pretty boring.
Of course, the last time he brought his Game Boy™ on patrol it got destroyed and he hasn’t had a chance to replace it. Turns out some vampires will ignore your tasty blood supply in favor of stealing your Legend of Zelda cartridge. In retrospect, he admits that having a slap fight with a vampyre over a hand-held gaming system was probably not his finest moment. Especially because he lost and now he’s stuck trying to decide between a reconditioned replacement of his classic or giving in to the future and its new gaming systems.
The battle winds down and there’s a lot of dust floating on the wind. The surprise is that none of the dust is Spike-dust. The new Slayer is talking to him, her face a picture of confusion. She probably remembers him. A vampire trying to help a Slayer is just crazy enough. The Slayer of Slayers trying to help a Slayer is like Fight Club starring Martin Short.
He stands up, smiling slightly as the Slayer walks towards him. He raises a hand towards the two dejected figures she leaves behind. Evil is a hard habit to break and deep down he’s not sure either of them has fallen to the Dark Side. Besides, he still likes Spike, still admires him for his leather coat mojo. Whatever side they’re all on, they have a history together and that means something.
And it doesn’t hurt that he gets the girl again. His smile broadens as he realizes that no matter how much leather coat coolness Spike has, no matter how tough Faith is, they’re walking away empty-handed. He may not be the hero, but he always gets the girl.
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no subject
on 2008-11-24 01:40 am (UTC)