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Summary: Xander always hoped Tony wasn't his father. Jim never expected to be one. Jon just wants to get through high school without dying of boredom. Fate is a funny thing.

Categories Author Rating Chapters Words Recs Reviews Hits Published Updated Complete
Multiple Crossings > Xander-CenteredSherzaFR1542113,99820307145,04423 Jul 1117 Nov 14No

Spike and Dru, Part 1

Spike and Dru Part 1

A/N: Disclaimer's in the first chapter.

September 29

Buffy stared at Principal Snyder, one eyebrow raised, then looked over at Sheila before giving a mental snort. Wait until her mother heard about this one. Snyder would never know what hit him. Trying to expel her if she does a bad job decorating for something ... yeah. She totally wanted to be there when her mother read this idiot the riot act. It would be a thing of beauty.

She walked out without saying anything, not willing to give the troll his jollies by acting at all concerned. Sheila didn't look worried either, but Buffy had a feeling it was for a different reason. Ah well.

The troll's bullying aside, Buffy did plan to decorate. Because Xander was going to have a parent here for parent-teacher night for the first time ever. Jim had called yesterday, the meeting had come up, and Jim had promptly arranged for a long weekend to come hang out.

Buffy fought down a grin. Xander had been ... a lot happier, the last few months. It was good to see on him. She hadn't known him anywhere near as long as Willow had, but she'd been aware that he hadn't been a happy camper last year, and for more reasons than the death of Jessie. Between Jim and Jon, Xander was ... well, as happy and content as someone living on a hellmouth could be, really.

Speaking of, Xander bounced up to her as she headed for her first class.

"So, what did the troll want?" Xander asked.

"To get his ass kicked by my mom." Buffy told him. "He threatened to expel me if I did a shitty job decorating for parent-teacher night."

Xander stopped in his tracks and stared at her for a moment, mouth half-open. "You're kidding me."


"Your mother is going to crucify him." Xander said firmly, then grinned. "Can I come watch?"

Buffy snickered. "Hopefully so, but I dunno. If everyone comes to watch that will want to, there will be quite an audience."

"Good point." Xander said with his own snicker.

Jon loped up at that point. "So, Snyder's put his name in for an ass-kicking. Too bad Jim won't be here until Thursday. They could tag-team him."

Buffy and Xander both laughed at that. "Oh, that would be evil." Xander pointed out. "I mean, Joyce is going to be bad enough. If we added Jim into it we'd need ... " He stopped, thought about what he'd been about to say, then grinned at Jon. "Damn, you're right. It is too bad they can't tag team him." He said. "We'd have a new principal then."

The rest of the day was sadly devoid of anything interesting outside of schoolwork. Once informed of Snyder's demands, Willow had been as amused as the others had been. Once the day was done they all trooped home.

Xander was still adjusting to having adults that gave a damn about him around all the time, so he had a big grin on his face when they walked into the house and got greeted by Joyce. Even Jon got a brief hug, much to his (continued, this was hardly a new phenomenon) chagrin.

"Mom, you are never going to believe what the troll tried to do today." Buffy said as they trooped into the kitchen to unpack their bookbags and finish whatever homework they'd not been able to do while at school. "He pulled me and Sheila into the office and threatened to expel whichever one of us did a crappier job at decorating for parent-teacher night."

Joyce's eyebrows hit her hairline. "Oh really now. I shall have to have a few words with that man." She shot a look at them all when they all started to snicker. "What has you so amused?" She wanted to know.

"Just anticipating you stomping a mudhole in the troll." Xander said. "We've been snickering about it on and off all day." He frowned at the homework in front of him. "I hate social studies." He groused.

Joyce gave Xander an amused look. "Oh really?"

Xander grinned at her. "It's a compliment, really. You're kind of on the fierce side." He pointed out. "You sort of looked like you wanted to take a sword or something to everything in sight that time we took you on patrol with us."

"He's got a point, mom." Buffy pointed out, grinning.

Joyce shook her head at their antics. "Well, your principal will be finding out if you're right about me or not tomorrow morning." She told them. "I'll not have any of this expelling you for specious reasons. If you earn it, that's one thing, but not decorating good enough is not an expellable offense."


Spike smirked as he ran down the welcome sign for Sunnydale.

Ahhh, the hellmouth. He could practically taste the evil the thing poured out, could feel it tugging at his demon, encouraging it to be more vicious, more violent. Not that he, of all vampires, needed much help with that.

He glanced over his shoulder at the back seat, grateful that Dru had fallen asleep. She'd been driving him barmier than usual the last few months with her jabber about Miss Edith and the stars, Sunnydale and the Grand Pouf. A couple of times, it'd been all he could do to keep her from racing out into broad daylight in her efforts to go save her 'daddy'. Other times, it'd taken every ounce of connivery he possessed to draw her out of whatever corner she'd jammed herself into, gibbering in terror.

Whatever was going on in Sunnydale, it was big. Dru might be nuttier than a fruitcake, which made her visions unreliable, but Spike had long since learned to listen when she babbled about the same thing consistently. She might not have the details right, but if she was seeing something again and again, it was something that needed worrying about.

It had all culminated in that mess in Prague. Now, Dru was in bad shape, and the Hellmouth was really her only hope. So he'd given in and got them moving towards Sunnydale. It'd helped that he'd heard rumor the newest Slayer was there. He'd been getting bored with the usual hunts, lately. It was about time for him to test his mettle against a Slayer again.

Spike drove until he found a warehouse he liked the looks of, and pulled the DeSoto inside. That done, he slipped out to go get the lay of the land. Dru'd be safe enough where she was for now.

He beat up (and dusted) a couple minions to get a bit of information, among which was that the Master was dead and, if not fully dusted, then definitely unavailable for resurrection by any means. Which had, evidently, been attempted by his successor, called the Anointed One. The lair had also been moved from its old place to a warehouse.

Spike found the warehouse and slipped inside, crouching in the rafters, watching the assembled vampires and snorting in disgust. The Anointed One? What a crock of shit. Was nothing but a kid, playing at being a Master and making the mindless dregs bow to him.

He actually laughed out loud when they started talking about challenging the Slayer on St. Vigeous, and dropped from the rafters, landing neatly and then prowling around the group.

"You lot are pathetic." He fairly laughed. "Prayin' ta a dusted vamp for strength enough ta challenge a Slayer."

The Anointed One gave him a look that Spike suspected was supposed to be angry and challenging, but with a child's face came across as petulant. "And who might you be, to barge in here and mock your betters?"

Spike laughed again. "I'd be Spike, mate. Also known as William the Bloody, one of the Scourge, and slayer of Slayers." He smirked at the lot of them, daring one of them to be dumb enough to try to jump him. "Ain't needed to pray to a dead vamp yet ta have what it takes ta take down a Slayer. You lot want the bint out of the way, I can get it done."

Spike could literally see the power in the room shifting as the minions around the miniature wanker responded to his complete lack of concern about both the kid and the Slayer. New-risen minions tended to do that, gravitating towards the most powerful vampire in their vicinity. Better yet, the baby wanker knew it too ... and couldn't do a damn thing about it evidently.

Oh, Spike imagined the kid might've been something ... in about fifty or sixty years. There was an edge of 'something different' to him that Spike couldn't place. Unfortunately, the kid was damn near as newly risen as the minions bowing to him, and whatever ability he might have was clearly not fully developed yet, or he'd be using it. He gave a contemptuous snort and whirled, his duster flaring out behind him as he stalked out.

Now to find the Slayer and get a good look at how she fought.

A half an hour later, he'd tracked her down ... and discovered why Dru'd been frothing so badly. This Slayer wasn't working alone.

"Watchers must love that." He muttered, watching the group. The sight of his sire slouching along with them, looking miserably unhappy, made him want to laugh and snarl at the same time. So this is what Angelus had been reduced to ... tagalong helper to a Slayer. Pathetic.

He followed them, keeping to the rooftops, as they patrolled around town. The news wasn't good. Not only did this Slayer travel in a pack ... both she and the pack were better trained and equipped than the norm. The others with her (minus Angel) were all wearing military gear, boots and vests, and the vests had all sorts of goodies in the pockets from what he saw them use as they patrolled. There were two crossbows and enough arrows to make even him twitchy, as well as a couple of axes that he saw being put to use.

The Slayer herself fought with a focused brutality and economy, wasting very little energy and movement in the effort to kill whatever demons they came across. Spike hadn't seen the like since the Chinese Slayer. Yet it was clear that she wasn't a brainwashed automaton, either. She laughed and joked and seemed to be quite comfortable with her helpers.

The helpers were ... odd ducks. The redhead that tended to stay at the center of the group was clearly the weakest link, but she was close-guarded. The tow-headed teenager confused him. The kid moved and acted like a combat vet, but there was no way in hell a teenager could possibly be one. The dark-haired kid was a bouncy goof between attacks, but once a demon popped up, he was nearly as focused as the Slayer, though nowhere near as deadly. Yet. Spike had a feeling that given a year or two, the kid would be as close to a Slayer's equal as humanly possible, like his tow-headed friend.

"What the hell have you got yourself into, Angel?" Spike asked aloud.

It was just as well he was watching them so closely, or he'dve missed what happened next. The tow-head said something, and in the space of about two seconds, one of the crossbows was in the Slayer's hands and an arrow was slamming into the brick wall at his feet, missing his leg by less than an inch. Spike cursed and scrambled for cover, even as two more arrows sang through the air, both narrowly missing him. Only when he'd gotten several walls between himself and the Slayer did he stop to gather his wits.

What the bloody hell?


"Damn, we missed." Jon whined. "Bastard moved fast, I'll give him that."

"Hopefully he'll decide Sunnydale's too much bother and go away." Buffy said.

"And if he doesn't, he's going to be ridiculously easy to spot and track, with that neon white hair." Jon said with a snort.

That comment made Angel stiffen. "Neon white hair?" He asked.

Jon eyed him. "Yeah. And he seemed to know you. Called you by name."

"Damnit." Angel cursed, then sighed. "I think I know who it is. Not entirely sure, but there's a high probability."

"And who would he be, then?" Xander asked, finally chiming in.

"Spike. He's dangerous. Has killed two slayers, and he's only a little over a century old. The first one he killed when he'd been turned for only twenty years, and it wasn't by accident or thanks to getting to her after she'd been worked over by bigger, nastier oppenents. He deliberately hunted and challenged her when she was well rested."

That news made them all cringe a little. "So he's a good fighter, then?" Willow asked.

"One of the best. There aren't too many vampires out there who can challenge him ... and most of the ones who can are a good fifty years or more older than he is." Angel said, looking rather sour at having to admit it.

"And you know all this ... how?" Xander demanded.

"He's my Childe." Angel admitted. "I haven't seen him since the second world war, though, and even then only briefly."

The Scoobies traded looks before Buffy stepped in. "Well, we can't get mad at you for not telling us about someone you didn't even know if they were still around." She said.

"You need to be careful. There can really be only one reason why he's here." Angel pointed out.

That made both Xander and Jon make amused noises. "Let him try. He's going to get a few surprises." Xander said. "Buffy's got way more backup than most Slayers ever did."

"I'll try to figure out what he's up to." Angel said. "With some luck, I can head him off."

Xander shot Jon a look, and Jon returned it, a look that said 'yeah, we're really going to depend on you to drive him off. Not'. "Whatever. Just make sure he understands he'll be dust if he crosses us." Jon growled.

Angel made another face before he headed into the darkness to track his wayward childe down.
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