Title: Nothing happens in Chicago
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything you recognize, it all belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant enemy, Jim Butcher and whoever owns Due South. NO disrespect was intended anywhere in this work of fiction
Chicago was a very windy city. That was the first thing that crossed Xander’s mind as he stepped out of the wind. He and Dawn had come here to check out the university, as this was one of the only cities that hadn’t batted an eyelid at her more colorful school file. As well as the fact that Giles had assured him that it had one of the lowest vampire populations in Midwest America.
“Come on Dawnie,” Xander said to the brunette beside him, “it won’t be that bad.”
“Ha!,” groaned Dawn. “I bet it’s going to be dead boring here. It’s not like anything really goes on.”
Almost immediately after the words came out of her lips, a car screeched around the corner, followed by what looked like a husky in close pursuit. Before the duo had time to blink, they were gone.
“OK, did you see that?” asked Xander looking at the spot where the car had come out of.
“See what?” asked Dawn. “Look, whatever it was, I’m sure it was perfectly normal for a Chicago. I mean, it’s the the Lake Regions. Nothing here could be as weird as Sunnydale.”
As if to contradict this statement, two men in a Riviera stopped next to them, and lowered the window. One of them was wearing clothes that would have given Xander a run for his money in high school, and the other appeared to be dressed as a Mountie.
“Excuse me sir,” the Mountie asked politely, “but you wouldn’t have happened to have seen which direction a dog chasing a car ran down would you?”
Xander mutely pointed the way the car had gone.
“Thank you kindly sir.”
The car drove off in its mission.
“I’m sure that’s nor...”
Dawn didn’t even get to finish her sentence. Xander slapped his hand over her mouth before she could jinx them further.
“Look, let’s just get to the university before anything weirder happens.” Xander snapped.
He wasn’t even surprised this time when a group of vampires leapt out and attacked them. In fact he was rather glad. At least some things never changed.
Rupert Giles was in town for a business meeting with a man for a somewhat rare and invaluable manuscript. Just for a change.
He had figured that it would be rather easy, and was due to meet the representatives of Mr. Marcone in a few hours at a bar called MacAnally’s. Then, the wall of his hotel room exploded inwards thanks to a rather impressive display of fire magic. But more importantly, a man crashed into his room a few moments later.
Giles did what any sensible Watcher would do when faced with a situation like this. He bashed the man on the head with his briefcase.
A rather large dog bounded into the room, and seeing the unconscious man, gave a happy bark. He was followed by a rather tattered looking young man. He had shadows underneath his eyes, was wearing a long black duster that seemed to belong to the set of El Dorado, and was carrying a large staff.
The man swept his eyes over the scene, and then stuck out his hand and presented Giles with a rather battered business card.
“Harry Dresden.” He had a firm shake, and his touch left Giles’ hand tingling with the sensation of power that he hadn’t felt since his Ripper days.
Giles quickly glanced down at the business card. Harry Dresden, Wizard. It proclaimed proudly.
“Mr. Dresden,” Giles said, “sit down please. I’d like to ask you something, and our guest won’t be moving for some time. Tell me, have you ever heard of an organization call the Watchers?”
“Freeze!” cried Ray Veccio pointing his gun at a supposed; actually, he had no idea what it was. There were three figures around a young girl, and they appeared to be fighting. None of them paid the least bit of attention to him. Suddenly, one of the figures exploded into dust, causing him to cough furiously.
When he looked up again, all the figures save one was gone, and the sole survivor was swiftly moving off.
“Freeze!” he shouted again, and this time it actually did him some good. The figure he was pointing his gun at was short, blond and decidedly female.
“Oh come on,” she groaned, “look, it’s been a long night, and I’m really tired, so listen. You can’t pin any charges on me, I haven’t done anything wrong, and Giles is going to kill me if he has to bail me out of prison again.”
“You have the right to remain silent. Anything you say will be used against you in a court of law...”
Spike looked around gleefully. He really couldn’t believe it, in fact he had thought it was one of Angel’s bad jokes when he had heard, but it was real. All around him at the convention, ghosts were chatting, floating through food and generally having a good time. A huge banner above his head proclaimed this to be THE 23867 ANNUAL GHOST CONVENTION.
“Excuse me everyone,” a ghost dressed in clothing that came straight from the Middle-Ages called out, “but it is time for the events to begin. At 2 we have several guest speakers who are going to give lectures on,” he looked down to check his list, “Screaming for Dummies, How to Make your own Chains, and The History of the use of Fake Blood. At 3:30, we will start the games. First game will be...”
The ghost never managed to finish his sentence. A very angry young man dressed as a Mountie, came strolling in the room and started to berate another older man. Who seemed to pale even further when he saw him.
“Why are you here Dad? A party? Don’t you think you have more important thing to do? We are on the verge of finding Mom’s killer, and you want to go to a party?” The young man looked around, and seemed to notice the amount of attention that he was attracting.
“Ah. Excuse us please, we’re just leaving.” He nodded to all of the ghosts and walked out of the room, his father following behind him.
“Well, now that that’s over, we can...”
A tall man entered the room, armed with what appeared to be a staff. He strode up to a shifty looking ghost, and started to talk to him.
As soon as he had entered, a whisper went up among the ghosts.
Dresden, Dresden, Dresden...
“Really, Kravos,” he drawled, “You’d think that you’d find a better place to hide than a ghost party. Hell’s Bells, this isn’t even a party. What’s the matter, were all the dark scary mansions sold out? And honestly, why did you come back this time? I mean, you screwed up enough the first time, and that was when you were all powerful. I mean, are you a masochist or something? ”
Kravos snarled at him, but Dresden merely dumped a bag of dust on his head, and the ghost dispersed.
“Well, that was easy,” Dresden said brightly and exited the room.
Spike decided not to stick around. He, as much as it pained him, wanted to get back to Angel as soon as possible.
A/N: Please for the duration of the story, ignore that Spike was stuck inside the Wolfram and Hart buildings while he was a ghost.