Part One: The Hero
A/N: This is set during Angel season 5 a few months after Destiny and, of course, AU from that point on. I do not own any of these characters. An Act in Two PartsPart One: The Hero
It happened on his way home. That had surprised him. This had to be the worst place Spike had been to on his road trip. As a new “Rogue Demon hunter” (the Watcher's words, not his) or rather a “Roving Demon Hunter” he was down right bored with this city. Two days and he had only staked one vamp. He also couldn't find the local demon hangout. That was almost unheard of; every city had at least one demon bar.
He had chatted up the vampire, prior to staking of course, and found that most demons avoided this city all together. To much military presence. He had noticed them, of course. The only thing that kept him from just driving right through Colorado Springs was the pressing need for fuel. For both him and his RV.
It was a beautiful machine, as far as RV's went. Much nicer than the last one he drove, which was probably still beached in the desert with a sword or two stuck in it. This one was a brand new A class with all the comforts of home: a trailer with a motorcycle on it (also new), a mini-fridge, a queen sized bed in the back...and a catch of weapons under the sofa.
He would have never been able to afford this on his own. It, along with his new legitimate, corporeal
identity, and new paycheck were now in the employ of one Wesley Wyndham-Pryce. William James Edwards was a licensed private investigator with Angel Investigations.
He was still working on convincing the Watcher to change the name to something better. Something like Spike Investigations had a nice ring to it, though Wes didn't think so, but Spike was working on it. Maybe something to do with his new ability. It seemed that going up in a pillar of sunlight had had an unexpected side effect: Spike was immune to the sun's rays.
It was the biggest shock since becoming solid again. He had taken a large bottle of alcohol from Peaches and managed to locate an empty office in which to drink that unfortunate encounter with Harmony out of his brain. He was watching the sunset through the windows when Angel found him. Seems he was none to happy with him for emptying the liquor cabinet, among other things. So Angel came storming in, intent on hitting him or something, when he suddenly flinched back into the shadows, smoking. They stared at each other dumbly before Angel called Fred. Turns out the office was empty because it didn't have necro-tempered glass yet. Oh, he was still undead, just immune to the sun. Spike hadn't had this much fun since he'd had the Gem of Amara. The best part had been rubbing it in Angel's face.
A few months later, and the novelty still hadn't worn off. He spent the day walking around town in the sun before heading out to this great bar he had found. It was called O'Malley's and served that onion flower thing that he loved so much. He spent much of the evening eating, drinking, and playing pool.
It was while he was walking home that he heard the struggle. He picked up speed when he smelled the vamps. Turning the corner, he ran, duster trailing, toward the alley. From the entrance he paused for a second to judge the situation.
A teenage boy was about to be fed on by two vamps. He was putting up a struggle though. He punched one of the vamps in the face causing him to grab his nose, before the other vamp grabbed the teen from behind, preparing to bite.
Spike charged in and pulled the vamp from the stunned kid before staking it. He turned quickly to the other vamp and after a short scuffle, staked it.
“Amateurs.” Spike scoffed. It was disappointing how easy that was.
“What...was...that.” The teen's voice carried in the small alley, even though he stood with his hands braced on his knees, panting.
“Uh...gang members...on PCP. Yeah. I chased them off.” Spike stuttered through an explanation. In Sunnyhell, the victim would have already run off by now.
“That.” The boy stood, his voice becoming stronger, “was no gang member.”
Spike sighed. “Just go home, kid. You don't want to know what that was.”
The kid seemed to flinch before drawing himself to his full height. He was taller than Spike, almost 6 foot and Spike had to look up to meet his eyes. They were old eyes. The kind of eyes that reminded him of the Slayer. This kid was not at all what he appeared to be.
The brown eyes hardened, gaze challenging.