Chapter One: The Stars Have Tattled
The Past Is In The Present
One Tree Hill Future x/over w/ BtVS Future & Angel Future Brooke Davis & Spike
Disclaimer: I do not own One Tree Hill, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, or Angel or it's characters. Those rights are reserved to Mark Schwann & the CW & Joss Whedon & whatever network Buffy and Angel belong too
Chapter One: The Stars Have Tattled
“Sp-ikey!” Brooke Davis whined, calling out from the living room. It was dark outside and the house was dark too.
“Coming, luv,” Spike answered from the kitchen where he’d been writing down notes for his next novel. He stood up, going through the dining room to the living room. He found his girlfriend of two years lying on the couch, the remote in her hand, “What is it, baby?”
Brooke looked at Spike, her face pouty like a puppy dog, “Do you think I’m hot anymore?”
Spike sighed sympathetically and slanted his head to one side. He went up to her and sat down beside her, holding her in his arms. As he ran his fingers through her soft, brunette locks, he kissed the back of her forehead, “Baby, what’s this about?”
She turned on the tele and her favorite reality show, Laguna Beach, came on, “They’re all so . . . so thin!”
“Baby, you’re having a baby! Our baby,” Spike said.
“I *really* don’t need a reminder,” Brooke sniffled, tears running down her cheeks. She put her hands on her seven-and-a-half months pregnant belly and whimpered.
“Baby, what’s wrong?” Spike wiped the tears from her eyes with his thumb.
“I’m scared!” Brooke cried, “I don’t know how to be a mother. I can’t even keep a pet alive! The longest I’ve kept on alive is when is when I had a hamster in the fourth grade! But it died six days after I got it! I’ve had hundreds of pets over the years and never for longer than six days! How am I supposed to take care of a little baby for life!”
Spike held her close, “Baby, you’re going to be fine. And I’ll always be there, you’ll never have to be by yourself. I promise.”
“Promise?” Brooke yawned, putting her hand over her mouth.
Spike chuckled, smiling, “Yeah.”
“You better . . .” Brooke slurred, her eyes closing.
Spike shook his head, “Come on, baby, let’s get you to bed.” Brooke mumbled in her sleep and rolled over. Spike wrapped her arms around his neck and stood up, picking her up. He went down the hall to the bedroom.
Later on, Spike sat at his desk in the dining room going through the first draft of his novel. From the time he’d put Brooke to bed until now, six hours total, he’d written the last four chapters of the novel. Now was the final editing and proofreading before he gave it to his publisher so she could proofread, edit, and accept it, to send it in to the actual editor before it was published and printed.
Brooke and Spike were extremely contrasting types of people but they fit together well. The one thing they did have in common, besides being in love with each other, was the fact that they were both attracted to the darker side of things. Spike had only known Brooke for about two years, but from what he’d learned from her best friends Haley James-Scott and Peyton Sawyer-Scott, she’d been quite the troublemaker back in junior high and high school. Not that Spike had always been the sensitive, caring, writer that he was now. In fact, he’d been quite the opposite.
When Spike had been twenty years old, he’d essentially died. On that day his world was turned upside down. He’d been made into a vampire by his sire, the deadly and vicious Drusilla. For about a hundred years he and Drusilla, along with her sire Angelus and Angelus’s sire Darla, terrorized through Europe, Asia, and the United States. Eventually Darla and Angelus had split, leaving Spike and Drusilla to roam on their own. And they had. They’d hunted in every city they’d come across in a very short amount of time. Spike had killed two vampire slayers in that time. One was in 1900, during the Boxer Rebellion in China. The other was in the 1980's in New York. He’d been known both as ‘Spike’ and ‘William the Bloody’. His real name was William Hastings, but he was always known by one or both of his nicknames. ‘Spike’ came from the fact that when he first became a vampire he drove railroad spikes into his victims. And, of course, later that his hair was always platinum blonde and spike. ‘William the Bloody’ came from the first time he’d been human and the other townfolk would mock his poetry. They said that he had ‘bloody awful poetry’. Of course, once Drusilla had changed him he’d been very fond of the ‘blood’ part and stopped composing poetry.
But now he was human again, given a second chance to live a life he’d never even could have dreamed he’d be worthy of. From the moment he’d met Brooke Davis at the diner just blocks away from his job at a local bookstore he’d been smitten. She’d been at the diner on lunch between her classes at NYU. At the time she’d been a senior, twenty-two years old; just three years younger than Spike himself.
They’d flirted with each other, traded glances across the diner. Spike bought her a coke, asking the waitress to take it to her. He have bought her a martini or a glass of wine, but the diner didn’t serve any alcoholic drinks.
After a few weeks of more flirting and romantic rendevous at the diner he’d convinced her to let him buy her a more fancy meal to correspond with how classy, sophisticated, and effulgent she was. She’d agreed, laughing and blushing. And the rest was history.
Now they were coming upon the third anniversary of their meeting/dating. They lived together, were engaged, and were expecting their first child in little over a month. And Spike could honestly say he was happy with his life. He did not think he’d been this satisfied with his life (or unlife) since the first few decades he’d spent with Drusilla. Brooke was beautiful, sexy, hilarious, fun, intelligent, and passionate. Plus, she could be some kind of crazy on occasion and that’s just the way Spike loved had always loved his women.
He’d started a novel when he’d met Brooke, about a man trying to work up the courage to ask his high school sweetheart out. He’d based the character of the man’s crush off of Brooke. Once if was published, he also dedicated it to her. That day, six and a half months after they’d met and he’d started it, that day was when Brooke agreed to move in with him. They’d sold both of their own apartment and bought a new one. Less than a year later, Brooke was pregnant and Spike asked her to be his wife..
Spike loved her so much. Brooke’s friends from work always tease that he only proposed because she was pregnant. However, Spike knew that even if she’d hadn’t have gotten pregnant, he’d still have proposed to her. That’s all that matter to him and he didn’t care what anyone else thought either.
Spike took a deep breath and set down his pen. He’d had enough work for the night. He was tired, and if he left Brooke alone for too long she’d have nightmares again. As he yawned, gather up the papers for his novel.
As if on cue, he heard Brooke yell from their bedroom, “No! Spike, come back!”
The next day, Spike yawned again as he unlocked the door to his apartment. Setting his briefcase down, he rubbed his eyes and went on to the phone. Seeing the red voice-mail light blink, he pressed it.
“You have two new messages,” the phone told him.
“Hey baby, it’s Brooke! I just wanted you to know that I went baby shopping with the girls from the store again; I know, I know, what do we need more baby stuff for whom we’ve got a whole room full. But you know me; any excuse to shop! And I’m so sorry about last night. Next time I go to the doctor I’m going to ask why I keep getting those nightmares. I should be home around six. Ashley has to be home early ‘cause her husband Mark has to go on another emergency out-of-town business trip and she has to stay with their son Alex. I’ll see you tomorrow morning! I love you, Spikey!” Beep. Spike smiled.
“End of first message.”
“Look in your briefcase, William,” this voice was low and distorted. The hair on the back on Spike’s neck curled and stood up on end.
“End of messages.” Beep.
For a moment, Spike just sat still, staring at the phone. Who had called . . . and why? What was in the briefcase?
Well, there was only one way to find out: he’d have to open the briefcase. Tentatively he reached over across to the table and grabbed the briefcase. Looking around the room, he carefully unhooked the latches. He winced at the loud sounds it made and opened it.
“Gah!” he gasped, covering his mouth. Inside of the briefcase was a fresh human heart. Beside the heart was a picture of Brooke with her arms around his rounded belly. He picked it up and flipped it over. On the back was written; Leave. Leave town now or they both die. The stars have tattled on you, my William. You’ve been a very naughty boy.
Spike knew exactly what he had to do: he had to leave. And hew knew exactly where he’d go.
Time to visit some old friends . . .