Summary: I have absolutely no idea where this fits in with canon. I suppose it really doesn't. In my mind it takes place in a time post-NFA, where Spike does the occasional odd job for the Watcher's Council. On Torchwood it takes place after Captain John comes onto the scene, but again, no spoilers other than that.
Disclaimer: I own none of the characters of either Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Torchwood, and claim no responsibility for anything other than this story, from which no profit is made.
Author's Notes: Thanks to Lisa and Elisabeth for the betas. But, of course, all mistakes are mine. The Future is Now
Willow groaned and sat up, rubbing her hip where it had crashed into the cement floor beneath her. Her gaze flicked to Spike, who was muttering and frowning.
“Don’t remember you mentioning the part where I end up with a bruise the size of Texas on my arse,” he said, rubbing the aforementioned part of his body.
“How come vampires bruise?” she asked, curious. “I’ve always wondered. Because, you know, the blood isn’t exactly flowing. How can that happen?”
She was so serious and earnest that he thought about explaining it to her, but now was neither the time nor the place. “And where the hell are we?”
“I told you,” she said, sighing, “that there would be a slight temporal shift—and possibly a geographic one as well, if the spell worked properly. This,” she said, looking around them at the abandoned warehouse, “would be the shift.”
“What happens now?” he asked, getting to his feet. He held his hand out and she took it, letting him pull her to her feet as well.
“It’s just a temporary thing. The rubber-band effect will pull us back to our own time in an hour or two,” she explained, her lips straightening into a thin line. “Didn’t you pay any attention to my briefing?”
He shook his head, completely unrepentant. “Too many bloody words, and none of them interesting. More fun to jump right in and see what happens next.”
She stared at him, eyes wide. “I can’t believe you. You totally ignored my briefing, and you didn’t even show up for Giles’ research session. You could have put the whole mission in jeopardy—”
“Hold it right there. Hands in the air.”
“Great. Just bloody brilliant, Red. I hold you personally responsible for this,” Spike complained, as he raised his hands.
Willow did the same, and they turned towards the voice, seeing three figures backlit by the morning sun as they walked through the warehouse door. “It’s not my fault,” she hissed at Spike. “If you’d gone to the meeting or read Giles’ paper, you’d have known that there was no way to control the time shift. But no, Spike had to go running off half-cocked, as usual.”
He smiled when she said ‘cocked’ but the smile was short-lived as the three individuals approached slowly, guns drawn. “Hey now; we didn’t mean to cause any trouble. Little woman, there, she thought it might be a lark to do some exploring. You can just head out now, no problem, right, mate?”
“John,” the man snarled.
“Right. John. Sorry,” Spike corrected automatically.
The slight scent of arousal from both the man and his two female companions took Spike by surprise. Sure, he was a handsome bloke, but it was unusual to note such a strong response from three complete strangers.
The man was angry, although Spike wasn’t sure why. Angry and aroused...it reminded him of Buffy.
“Quit playing games, John,” the man said. “I told you to stay off my turf, and now I find you sniffing around. With another unwitting accomplice, I see. Does she know about your past? About all the people you’ve killed?”
Willow and Spike exchanged confused looks. This man seemed to know something of Spike’s past, but he clearly had the name wrong. Spike was pretty sure he’d never gone by the name John, nor had he ever been warned off someone’s turf. Not lately, at least. Except for Buffy, of course. And this certainly wasn’t Buffy.
“I think there’s been some sort of misunderstanding,” Willow said, slowly walking towards the three strangers. “My name’s Willow, and this is Spike. He’s not John, and I don’t think either of us knows who you are.”
“Captain Jack Harkness, Torchwood.” He said it with the stiffness of a military man, and although Willow had never heard of Torchwood, she thought she could figure out what type of organization it was.
“Willow Rosenberg. Um...formerly of Sunnydale, California.” She half-lowered her hand in order to shake hands with the man before her, who she could see now was really quite handsome, but the two women were training their eyes and their guns on her still, so she gave up, putting both hands back up in the air.
He nodded at her, then turned back to Spike. “John, I warned you. I tried to play nice, but you don’t seem to understand anything but the direct approach.”
Spike rolled his eyes. “The name is Spike, not John.” He spoke slowly, as if explaining a complicated situation to a small child. “I’m not sure who you think I am, but you’re wrong. Not sayin’ I haven’t done some things in my day, but that was a long time ago. Been on the straight and narrow for a while now, thanks to Red and her friends.”
Willow was tempted to roll her eyes at Spike’s rather edited account of his past, but knew that now was not the time to get into that. “I’m not sure who this John is, but trust me, he’s not him.”
“Miss, I’m sure you have the best of intentions, but lying for him isn’t going to help you. The last time I saw him, he’d just killed a woman in order to steal her fortune, and he almost killed Gwen, here, too. The hair color may have changed, but deep down, he’s the same homicidal killer he’s always been.”
Spike couldn’t help but wonder why, if he’d almost killed the beautiful brunette, she was putting off enough desire to tempt a celibate monk. Something about this whole set-up didn’t make sense.
“Sorry. Spike’s had the same hair color since I met him, about six or seven years ago.”
“Something quite easy for a time agent to pull off. Tell her, John.”
Willow frowned. “Time agent?” she repeated slowly. “What’s a time agent?”
“Ask your friend, John,” the pretty Asian woman on the other side of Jack replied.
“I...Spike, you don’t have any idea what they’re talking about, do you?”
He shook his head, his expression just as confused as hers. The phrase ‘time agent’ didn’t ring any bells, but it certainly sounded intriguing. Were they serious about it, or just a bunch of idiots playing at being superheroes, like those three geeks back in Sunnydale?
“Can I put my hands down? Arms are getting tired, and frankly this whole conversation is giving me a headache. I’m not John, and I’m tired of saying it.”
The three strangers shared a look, and Jack nodded. Willow gave a sigh of relief as she lowered her arms, her hands reaching up to massage her shoulders. “Thanks.”
“So, what do we do with them?” Gwen asked. She glared at Spike, who gave her a bland smile in return.
Jack shrugged. “I guess we take them back to the hub until we figure out what they’re up to.”
The only problem with that was that the sun was still shining away outside, which would be a bit of an inconvenience for Spike. “Uh, can’t we just stay here?” Willow asked.
“Why?” Jack asked sharply.
Spike had had enough of this rubbish. “Because I’m a tad bit flammable,” he told them, letting his human mask melt away until they stared into the eyes of the demon. “Could your friend John do this?”
Willow wasn’t sure who fired first—her money was on Gwen, who seemed to have an itchy trigger finger—but it didn’t really matter. She froze the scene, locating the bullets and sending them to the ground with a tap of her fingers. Next, she took the guns and threw them into the far corner of the warehouse where they were well hidden by the shadows. When she was sure that Spike was at no further risk, she flicked her wrist and time resumed its normal flow.
The three looked at each other, stunned and suddenly nervous. “I knew it. If you’re not John, then how’d you do that?” Jack demanded, glaring at Spike.
“I did it,” Willow announced, sending four pairs of eyes in her direction—one amused, and three confused. “But I’m not a time agent—I’m a witch. The good kind,” she added, just to dispel any misconceptions.
Jack stared at Spike, still in game face. He circled the blond slowly, eyes bright with curiosity. “And that would make Spike a vampire, I take it?” he asked. He’d heard of such creatures, but had never actually seen one.
“Vampire with a soul,” Spike insisted. “Worked hard for that soul.”
The strangers seemed curious but cautious. “Wait until night and then take him back to the lab,” Gwen said. “I’m sure Owen would get a kick out of him. Medical curiosity and all.”
Spike shook his head and took a couple of steps back. “Not on your bloody life. No way some stranger’s gonna poke and prod me.” Jack’s raised eyebrows had him adding, “least, not unless I get dinner and a drink first.”
Jack grinned. “Play your cards right...”
“Hey!” the three women yelped. Jack shook his head, his gaze never leaving Spike’s as he walked back to his companions.
“So, what are you doing here? Not that I believe your story; let’s just say I’m curious.” Jack crossed his arms over his chest, his body language once again confident, even though he wasn’t in a particularly strong position of power.
“Witch, here, did a spell. Savin’ the world type of stuff. We do that, sometimes. Thing is,” he glared at her, “there was a side effect that slingshot us forward to here—wherever here is—and in an hour or two we’ll slingshot back to the past. So, if you can see your way to keeping me in the dark a little longer, I’d be mighty grateful.”
Jack’s attention switched Willow. “He’s telling the truth?”
Willow agreed. “Yep. Except that if he’d actually done the prep work like he was *supposed* to, he’d have known that there was a time distortion. It’s not *my* fault he wasn’t paying attention. As usual.”
Spike rolled his eyes and shot Jack a look that men everywhere would understand, about the absurdities of women, and having to deal with them.
“I think I can keep these two company until they’re whisked back to their own time,” Jack told his partners. “Why don’t you two head back to the office. I’ll join you in a couple of hours.”
“You sure, Jack?” the Asian woman asked, glaring at Spike. “I’m still not convinced he’s not John. Just because *she* says he’s telling the truth, doesn’t mean he is. And, if he *is* from the past, we need to make sure he doesn’t go mucking up his future.”
“Which is why I’m staying with him, Tosh. Relax.”
“Well, you’d better check in every hour,” Gwen insisted, obviously as unsure as Tosh that leaving Jack alone was a wise idea.
“Don’t I always?” he retorted, winking at her.
Gwen and the other woman exchanged a glance that implied that he didn’t ‘always,’ but they followed orders, leaving the warehouse and closing the door behind them.
“So, kiddies,” Jack said, “what should we do to pass the time?”
“You’re cheating,” Jack insisted. He was down to his underwear—boxers, and he looked damn good in them, if he did say so himself—and his wrist cuff, which he’d explained didn’t come off under any circumstances. Willow was similarly attired, in only a bra and underwear. Jack turned to her, “He’s got to be cheating, right? I mean, I’m cheating, and he’s still winning. Something wrong with that.”
Willow frowned. No wonder she was losing. She was the only one who wasn’t cheating. Still, she could think of worse ways to spend an afternoon. Jack was a terrible flirt, and Spike was giving as good as he got. In the meantime, she was doing her best to keep clothes on her body. It hadn’t occurred to her to cheat, but apparently it should have.
“Well, hell. Here I’ve been playing fair, and now I find out you two...” She shook her head. Her hand reached out to touch the pile of clothes next to her; she wished she’d thought to dress in layers.
Spike sat back against the wall of the building, smiling broadly. “Just because I’m a bloody brilliant player doesn’t mean I’m cheating. Has it ever occurred to either of you that agreeing to a game of strip poker with someone who has played for over a century might not be the smartest decision you’ve ever made?”
Jack just smiled, and Spike’s eyes narrowed. “Unless you’re losing on purpose.”
The man’s eyes widened at the accusation; he certainly looked innocent, but the arousal Spike sensed coming off both him and Willow was hard to miss. Suddenly, a much more interesting way to pass the time came to mind.
“How about a game of spin the bottle?” he asked, looking from Willow to Jack. “No chance to cheat with that one—just the three of us and a bottle.”
Willow swallowed audibly. The thought of kissing Spike sent a thrill down her spine. Even though she was so very gay, she still had to acknowledge that he was beautiful in a way that was completely masculine. And Jack, she had to admit, was equally attractive. His lips looked soft and sensual, and something in his manner told her that he knew exactly what to do with them. ‘It’s just a kiss,’ she reminded herself. ‘Not like I’m gonna jump into bed with either of them. Besides, before long the time displacement will send us back to our time, and this will all be history. Well, future history. If there is such a thing.’
“Okay,” she agreed, licking her lips anxiously.
Jack didn’t even bother answering. He just got up and grabbed a bottle off the floor and sat back down. “My time, I get to go first.”
Neither of them objected, so he grabbed the bottle and with a twist of his wrist he set it spinning.
It seemed to take forever as they watched it turn, waiting with a sense of nervous anticipation for it to slow, and then stop, the mouth of the bottle pointing directly at Spike.
“Haven’t done this for a while,” he muttered, glancing at Jack speculatively.
Jack smiled, refusing to comment. He leaned forward and gave Spike a quick buss on the lips, and then pulled back, leaving the vampire surprised by the brevity of the kiss. Disappointed as well, although he wasn’t about to admit that.
“My turn, then,” Spike said, grabbing the bottle and giving it a twirl.
“Oh, this is going to be fun,” he said, as the bottle stopped, pointing directly at Willow. “Pucker up, Red. This is your big chance.”
Willow was nervous, but she did as instructed, leaning towards Spike. She’d intended to follow Jack’s example and give him a short buss, but Spike took control before she had a chance to object, plunging his tongue into her mouth and grabbing the back of her neck to stop her from pulling back.
His tongue slid against hers, seductive and demanding, and she leaned further into the kiss, closing her eyes and relaxing into his touch. Something warm settled into the bottom of her stomach, radiating through her body and setting off sparks of pleasure everywhere. His kiss promised amazing pleasure, if she was brave enough to grab for it. God, did he know what he was doing. She’d never imagined that a simple kiss could get her this hot, this close to losing control.
Suddenly Spike pulled back, leaving her breathless and frustrated. She tried not to show it, but was sure that he could see her every thought and feeling written plainly on her face. Stupid vampire.
She tried to take a moment to try to catch her breath and get her raging hormones under control, but Spike wasn’t going to give her the time she needed.
“Your turn, Red. Spin the bottle.”
Willow frowned, but grabbed the bottle and gave it a spin. She was hoping it would point to Jack, since she didn’t know if she could make it through another of Spike’s kisses without doing something embarrassing, like tearing off the rest of her clothes and wrestling him to the ground. She’d had no idea that his kisses would be so damned good. Sure, Buffy had said things, but she tended to exaggerate. Well, she hadn’t been this time.
It was going to point back to Spike—she could see it happening in her head—so she cheated, giving the bottle a little extra momentum to send it spinning around to Jack. She bent forward, shooting a look at Spike from under the curtain of her hair, but he wasn’t looking at her, and judging from his expression he didn’t realize she’d cheated. Well, if he could cheat at strip poker, then she could cheat at this.
Jack was grinning at her, and she smiled back, doing her best to make it cool and unemotional. He was really handsome—almost too pretty—but he was a stranger. Her innate shyness was kicking in, and she doubted she would be comfortable enough with him to give it her best effort.
If he sensed her doubts he showed no sign of it. He leaned towards her, his hands reaching out to cup her chin. She closed her eyes when their lips touched. He was gentle, coaxing, his tongue playful against her lips as he begged for admission.
He was a flirt; she could feel it in his manner, and in the way his lips teased hers. His teeth gently captured her lower lip and slowly let it go, quickly recapturing it again.
It was very different from the way Spike had kissed her, but no less appealing. Jack released her chin, his hands finding their way to her hair and burying themselves into her long locks. His fingers massaged her scalp and she found herself relaxing against him, just as she had with Spike. Pleasure washed over her in waves, and when Jack finally pulled back, she was limp as a rag, barely able to keep her body upright.
Was she really that much of a slut? Had it been so long that two men were able to turn her into a quivering bowl of mush? Or was it that these men were just so talented that she hadn’t stood a chance?
Jack was already spinning the bottle, grinning when it stopped, pointing directly at Spike. In an effort to make up for the brevity of his earlier kiss, Jack threw himself into the endeavor, grabbing Spike and wrapping his arms around the vampire’s shoulders. Their lips met, mouths opened, and tongues clashed. It was part kiss, part battle for power, and it felt wonderful. Spike was strong, insistent, and he knew what to do with that tongue of his. Jack gave up control of the kiss—albeit reluctantly—and allowed Spike to show him what he could do.
He was not disappointed.
After a minute, Jack pulled away, panting heavily. Spike sat back on his haunches, flecks of gold sparkling in those amazing blue eyes. “Well, now. You’ve got some talent there, Spike.”
Spike smiled, but there was something predatory in his gaze. Jack wondered just how far below the surface the demon lurked, and how comfortably it co-existed with the soul the blond claimed to have.
The bottle spun again, and again Willow was the recipient of Spike’s attention. The kiss seemed to last forever, and frankly Jack was getting bored. When were they going to get to the shagging? Foreplay was all well and good, but only if it led somewhere. So far this was going nowhere, and really slowly.
Deciding to up the ante, Jack got to his feet and walked over to Spike, sitting down behind him. He put his hands on Spike’s shoulders, massaging and touching through the shirt that the blond still wore. When Spike didn’t push him away, or object in any way, Jack reached around and unbuttoned the shirt, his hands sliding against skin, marveling at how cool it was against his warm hands.
He watched the muscles in Spike’s back move, his hands ghosting over the skin, reveling in the taut lines of his back. Something so lean and strong was obviously meant to be a predator.
Jack moved over to Willow, pushing the straps of her bra down her arms. Her skin was warm, flushed with desire, and she leaned back against him as he massaged her shoulders. Her hair was soft to the touch, silky and fine, and it fell through his fingers like sand.
He leaned forward, dropping light kisses on her shoulders. When she wrenched her mouth away from Spike’s for a breath, he captured her lips, refusing to let them go.
Spike watched the couple kiss, amazed at his luck. He’d thought this was going to be one of those boring, ‘saving the world’ type of missions, and here he was getting ready to shag the witch, and maybe even some hot stranger who had hands and lips that knew exactly how to make a man feel damn good.
Jack’s cock was standing at attention, or at least as much as it could in his restricting boxers. Time to get rid of those, he decided, getting up and pulling them off. He pumped his cock, trying to decide which of the two beautiful creatures he wanted first. That he would get them both eventually was a given in his mind.
Suddenly the air around them shimmered and, before Jack’s eyes, Willow and Spike started to fade, their features becoming indistinct. In less than ten seconds they were gone completely.
Leaving him alone, in an abandoned warehouse, with a bit of a problem.
“Damn you both,” Jack yelled into the silence, his hand still wrapped around his cock. “What the hell am I supposed to do with this now?”
Willow wasn’t sure who was more surprised when they materialized in the Council’s library: her, Spike, or Giles. The latter clucked like a chicken at the sight of Willow almost completely undressed, her lips glued to Spike’s.
“Why—what—I mean, really, what is the meaning of all this, Spike? This is—it’s most inappropriate!”
Spike pulled away from Willow, got to his feet and gave the Watcher a grin. “Just doing my part to save the world. If I’d known it was going to be this much fun, I’d have offered to help before.”
He left, closing the door closed behind him, leaving Willow alone with Giles.
“Young lady, I’m waiting for your explanation. And it had better be a good one...”