Authors: 2writers4spike aka mabel_marsters & dawnofme
Warning: Mentions of Spike with others.
Betas: seapealsh & slaymesoftly. Thank you so much!
Anticipation: a: a prior action that takes into account or forestalls a later action b: the act of looking forward ; especially : pleasurable expectation
Summary: Having no idea how it happened, Spike finds himself back in 1977, reeling from a newly acquired soul and more guilt than most could handle. After dodging Drusilla, his main focus is getting back to his own time and back to Buffy in Sunnydale so that he can atone for all he's done. That is, until he sees the newly born slayer in 1981 and goes off in a new direction. Can he stop the events that brought misery to Buffy's life, or will he be forced to watch destiny destroy the woman he loves all over again?
Disclaimer: We own no part of Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. We write this purely for fun and not financial gain. No infringement of copyright intended.
banner by dawnofme
“Come on. It’ll be fun.” Spike’s voice adopted a wheedling tone as he smiled down at his friend.
Volkov rolled his eyes. “Yeah, right! What sort of vampire are you anyway?”
Spike’s face split into a grin – he was going to get his own way, he was sure of it. “I’m the vampire that’s not gonna snack on you while you’re sleeping. . . if you come with me.”
Volkov sighed dramatically and heaved himself up from the chair to stand next to Spike. “Ice Capades! I share a house with a vampire who likes Ice Capades!”
Spike vamped out his features and snarled. “Still scary, though!”
Volkov chuckled. “Still scary, Spike.”
Spike shifted his features back and forced a smile. It was funny how he felt the weight of his soul more acutely at some times than at others. Right now, the word ‘scary’ had triggered a pang of remorse for the people that he’d terrorized in the past.
“We’ll go in my car,” said Spike, giving Volkov a nudge with his elbow.
“Damn straight we are. This whole evening is on you. The tickets, the snacks, the works. No way am I using any of my hard earned money on this.”
“No worries.” Spike pulled out a wad of cash from his jeans pocket. “Worked hard and had a good day at the office.”
Shaking his head, Volkov walked towards the door. “Your ‘office’ is anywhere that will take your bets, preferably where liquor is available to drink. That’s really not all that hard, is it?”
Spike scowled and gave Volkov’s arm a thump as he pushed by him to get outside first. “’Tis, too. Lot of effort working out the statistics.” He tilted his head to one side as Volkov stared at him. “What?”
“I don’t think you know what a statistic is.”
“Hey! I win loads so I must be doing something right.” He grinned unashamedly.
“Hmm,” replied Volkov, not entirely convinced. “I don’t know anyone as lucky as you are.”
Spike rarely, if ever, lost. In fact the only time that Volkov had seen Spike lose was when he bet on Dancing Brave, the eventual runner up in the English Derby horserace last year. When he’d asked Spike if his bet had won, Volkov could have sworn that he’d heard Spike muttering something about forgetting the bloody stupid jockey had cost the horse the race. Volkov had thought better of asking Spike more about it as the vampire had stomped around the house in a mood for the rest of the day. He hadn’t dared to ask how much money Spike had lost.
“Good ole Coventry City,” said Spike, shoving the cash he was still holding back into his jeans pocket.
“Huh?” What was the vampire talking about now?
“Coventry City football club. In 1987 they were — uh…they won this year’s English F.A. Cup Final over Tottenham Hotspur at Wembley yesterday, three – two, and I won enough to keep me going for about three months,” replied Spike, leaning on the roof of the DeSoto and grinning broadly. “Got great odds. Don’t you just love it when the underdog wins?” Especially when you know that they do!
When the vampire was in a good mood like this, Volkov found it infectious and he grinned back as he opened the car door and got in. Spike got behind the wheel and floored the car, making the tires squeal loudly.
“Do you always have to drive like the Hounds of Hell are after you?” grumbled Volkov.
“Just don’t want to be late, is all.” Spike threw his head back and roared with laughter at the disgusted look on his friend’s face.
“You owe me one for this, big time!”
“Quit moaning. You know that you’ll love it.”
About forty-five minutes later, Spike parked the DeSoto in the already crowded lot and the pair headed over to the entrance. Spike scoured the area trying to find the Summers’ car. He was sure that they would be here to see the show tonight. He really didn’t relish the thought of coming to see it for a third consecutive night. He’d lied to Volkov about going to a club yesterday and had asked him to come tonight so that it might actually be fun, rather than painful. Spike stifled a shudder. What the hell was Buffy thinking, liking bloody Ice Capades? Mind you, she did look cute as a button when her folks took her ice-skating each week. She was getting pretty nifty on the ice.
Spike spotted a blonde ponytail bouncing several yards in front of him and his un-beating heart clenched. It was her. She was here. Dressed in Barbie Doll pink, the six-year old slayer-to-be was holding each of her parent’s hands and giggling as they kept swinging her up off her feet.
“Hurry up.” Spike caught hold of Volkov’s arm and began to make him walk more quickly to the entrance.
“Jeez. You really do want to see the show!” exclaimed Volkov. “I thought you were joking.”
Spike could see that he was seriously losing ‘cool’ points with Volkov and quickly added a lie. “Look, I’ve been shagging one of the skaters, all right? Just want to see her perform…um…her other skills.”
Volkov stopped short. “You’re screwing a human? Are you mad? Does she know?”
Spike tugged impatiently at Volkov’s arm again. He glanced over his shoulder in time to see the Summers disappear inside. “What? That I’m a vamp? ‘Course not.”
“But you’re cool..."
“Look, mate. She spends the night flitting about the ice half-naked . Trust me, I feel bloody warm to her! Now come on!”
He dragged Volkov through the doorway and tapped his foot impatiently as he paid for their tickets. God! I hate paying for stuff! Not that he had much choice with his soul searing if he stole anything. He could only just cope with cheating the bookmakers with his bets, outright stealing something was just…wrong. Shit!
Spike’s good mood had returned by the time the pair was settled in their seats just four rows behind and slightly to the right of the Summers. He had a perfect view of Buffy. Her little face was flushed with excitement; her pink cheeks matched her outfit. Spike watched Hank and Joyce’s body language carefully. He wasn’t sure when they'd actually split up. He knew the year that they got divorced – 1996 – but he wasn’t sure if they had been parted for very long before then. Tonight, however, they looked like a very happy family unit. The lights dimmed in the seating areas and everyone settled down to watch the show. Everyone except Spike, whose eyes were fixed in fascination on the mini Buffy. Spike could see how much Buffy loved her father as he watched her holding onto her dad’s hand and bouncing with excitement in her seat. She’d feel his departure acutely, of that Spike had no doubt. He sighed softly. Maybe I came back in time just to watch over her – to keep her safe? He’d long ago decided that he wasn’t too worried about having to live through the same decades for the second time. Well, apart from having to listen to sodding ‘Lady in Red’ by that whining git, top the charts for weeks on end all over again.
Volkov nudged him hard in the ribs. “So, which one is it?”
“Huh?” Spike tore his attention from Buffy.
“The one that you’ve been…” Volkov let his words hang in the air.
“Um, that one,” said Spike, pointing quickly to a dark haired figure whizzing past.
“That’s a man!”
“Not him, you git, the one behind him.” Spike snorted in disgust.
“Oh!” Volkov chuckled a little. “Had me worried there, buddy.”
Spike joined in the laughter and they had trouble stopping when they were shushed loudly by a large woman sitting behind them. Spike bit the inside of his lip to keep from getting even more raucous. The last thing that he wanted was for the Summers to notice him.
Spike was surreptitiously following Joyce and Buffy around the mall three weeks later when he became aware that he wasn’t the only one paying attention to them. He leaned against the wall in the corner of the store and switched his attention from Buffy to the man that he’d noticed hovering around the pair as they wandered from store to store.
He was average height and weight, and wore clean, well cut clothes that were the standard attire for a man of his age – about forty. All in all, he did look like ‘Mr. Average White America’. What he didn’t look like was anyone to be afraid of, but something about him set Spike’s teeth on edge.
Watching him watching Buffy was beginning to creep Spike out.
Shit! Is that what I look like to others when I’m watching over them?
Spike had to admit that with the bleached hair and his black clothes that he looked a lot more threatening than old ‘Mr. Average’ over there.
He tensed as the man approached Joyce and Buffy. He would have relaxed when the man spoke to Joyce, if he hadn’t been able to see her expression when he’d ruffled Buffy’s hair with his right hand. Joyce’s smile had faltered and she’d nodded to the man and pulled Buffy away from him. Spike saw Joyce glance anxiously over her shoulder as they walked away, but the man had turned and was heading out of the store.
I’ll cut that git’s hand off! No right to touch Buffy! Sod this bloody soul! It wouldn’t be right to kill the bloke, but I sure as hell can still give him a scare.
Spike followed him for half an hour as the man wandered the mall, walking in and out of several stores, but there was nothing in the least bit suspicious in what he was doing. Spike sighed and decided to go home.
Maybe I’ll just check on Buffy once more before I go.
Using scent was useless in trying to find her in the crowded mall. In fact Spike tended to avoid using his nose at all when in contact with a large group of people since quite a lot of them didn’t smell so fresh. So Spike wandered along the upper level hoping to spot them in the walkways. He smiled and leaned on the rail when he saw them walking out of a candy store on the lower level with Buffy happily sucking on a lollipop.
Spike thought that he’d misjudged what he had seen. He just put it down to his being very over-protective of the young Buffy. Then, Spike growled low in his throat when he saw the git walking briskly along. And this time ‘Mr. Average’ was definitely following Buffy and her mom.
Spike broke into a jog and ran to the stairs. He stared around wildly when he got to the lower level. Where had they gone?
“Thank God,” he muttered as he spotted Buffy and her mom going into a department store.
The man was still following and closing the distance between him and the Summers. When Joyce took Buffy into the changing rooms, Spike debated with himself as to whether he should just confront the man now and get him the hell away from the Summers. A quick glance around made him decide against it. The place was crowded with shoppers and he couldn’t afford to be tackled by security if ‘Mr. Average’ cut up rough.
With his un-beating heart feeling like it was trying to crawl out of his chest, Spike kept watching the three of them. He took his eyes off them for a second when a loud crash near to the counter pulled his attention away. When he glanced back, he could see no sign of the man. Joyce was buying some crockery and Buffy was…Buffy was…nowhere in sight!
Spike’s eyes darted around the store.
Where the hell was she?
He caught sight of her standing in front of a cabinet displaying china animals.
Oh, thank God!
He breathed a sigh of relief that was cut short when he saw ‘Mr. Average’ walking briskly towards her.
Oh, fuck! Where’s Joyce?
Spike looked at Joyce and saw her still engrossed in her purchase. He walked quickly towards Buffy, pushing several shoppers out of the way, not heeding their complaints. Spike’s left fist clenched when he saw the man bend down and talk to Buffy.
I’ll just hit the fucker and take my chances with security.
Buffy’s tiny hand reached up to take ‘Mr. Average’s’ outstretched one. Spike growled under his breath and then was pushed violently to the side as Joyce raced past him.
“Get away from my daughter,” she yelled.
Spike staggered several steps to the right, before regaining his balance and slinking a little farther away to watch.
Joyce grabbed Buffy’s hand and got right in the face of ‘Mr. Average’. “What the hell were you doing with my child?”
Joyce’s eyes blazed with the fury of a lioness whose cub had been threatened.
The man held out his hands, palms facing her. “I was…she was lost and I was just…going to help her find her parents.”
“Well, her mother is here, now get away from us.”
A security guard walked up. “Is there a problem, ma’am?”
Buffy chose that moment to crumple her face and begin to cry. Spike could hardly bear to hear the sound of it, knowing how many more tears she would shed in the future. He hoped that he would be able to prevent at least some of them.
“Oh, honey, it’s okay. Don’t cry,” Joyce soothed. She bent down to kiss Buffy’s brow before she looked at the guard.
“This man was about to get hold of my daughter.”
There were several gasps from the crowd of onlookers that had gathered. Spike blended in at the back and couldn’t help but smirk at ‘Mr. Average’s’ discomfort.
“I thought she was lost. I was only trying to help,” he explained. “You should keep a closer eye on your child. Do you know how dangerous it could be if she had been lost?”
Spike grudgingly had to give it to the bloke; he could think on his feet. Then Spike shuddered as he thought of how many times ‘Mr. Average’ might have been in this exact situation.
“Don’t you dare! Don’t you dare say that to me!” Joyce pushed the man on his chest.
The security guard stepped between them. “Uh, maybe we should all calm down.”
He quailed as Joyce glared at him, but then she took a stride away from the men and nodded her head. She knew that there was nothing more that she could do and Buffy was still crying loudly. She needed to care for her child and standing in the store wasn’t going to do that.
“Come on, sweetie. Shall we get some ice cream?”
Spike chuckled as Buffy’s tears stopped and she nodded her head rapidly. He watched them walk away. Joyce was quietly telling Buffy that she must never go with strangers and that there were some bad men out there.
Yeah, Spike thought sadly. She’ll see lots of every kind of bad when she gets older.
He followed ‘Mr. Average’ as he was escorted from the store despite protesting his innocence. As Spike suspected, the man headed for the parking lot. No doubt wanting to lie low for a while. Fury blazed in the vampire.
He raced down the stairs as the man took the elevator down to the lot. Luckily, the garage only had one level and Spike was waiting for him when he got out. Spike had perfected the art of walking silently and the man didn’t know that Spike was there until the vampire in full demon face, fangs glistening in the florescent lighting, tapped him lightly on his shoulder.
Spike grinned as the man screamed when he saw him and he put a hand on the car at either side of him, effectively pinning 'Mr Average' there without actually having to touch him at all.
Spike bent closer to the man’s face. “I’m your worst fucking nightmare come true.” He growled at full volume and the man quivered pathetically against the car.
“Please don’t hurt me. A-Anything…I’ll do anything…I have money…”
Spike smirked. “Money, eh?” He shrugged. “Well, I’ll have that, seeing as how you’re offering an’ all.”
‘Mr. Average’ fumbled in his pockets before holding out his wallet in a violently trembling hand.
Spike snatched it from him, which caused the man to shriek, and flipped it open. It held the man’s driver’s licence with his address.
“I know where you live, you perverted son of a bitch.” His voice was low. “If I ever see you hanging around malls watching little girls again, especially that one, I’ll…”
He bared his fangs and bent to the man’s neck.
“I won’t…I promise…I’ll get help….oh, sweet Jesus, please don’t kill me.”
Spike pushed himself back with his hands and grinned; this was going to be fun. He swung his fist and hit the cowering man with full vampiric strength, sending him over the roof of the car.
Spike glanced over his shoulder to see if anyone was approaching before he slowly went around the car, rubbing the knuckles of his left fist with the palm of his right hand. He suffered no attack of guilt for doing it – apparently, even his soul was happy with the outcome. He sucked at his grazed knuckles as he melted into the shadows without being discovered.