Fic Title: The Rose Remembers
Summary: Death isn't done with Sandford, but a Slayer and a vampire on the run have something to say about that. Spike/Buffy, Nicholas/Danny
Warnings: Violence and sexual content.
Banner number: 47 by athenamuze
Setting: About 2 1/2 years post-NFA
Disclaimer: Not ours, as much as we would like them to be.
Author Notes: This is a crossover with the movie, Hot Fuzz, but honestly, you shouldn't have to be familiar with the movie to be able to understand the fic. However, by reading the fic, you *will* get spoiled for the entire movie. Just so that you know.
Previously on Buffy: Nicholas had a training session for the Sandford police, and after a fight with Buffy, Spike ran into Drusilla...
The story begins here.
“Pretty quiet out tonight, isn’t it?” Danny said, kicking a stone ahead of him.
Danny was already walking very close, but now his fingers slid over Nicholas’ hand, almost questioningly.
“What are you doing?” Nicholas asked, not pulling away.
“Well, there’s nothing going on, is there? You just said so yourself.”
Danny’s hand was comfortably warm in the cold night, and Nicholas wouldn’t say as much out loud, but he did appreciate the simple contact. Especially since he was freezing and he just wanted to go home. They hadn’t seen any sign of Drusilla, or anybody else for that matter. And he had been up since five.
“What do you think Buffy and Spike are doing right now?” Danny asked.
“I don’t know. Looking for Drusilla, I imagine.”
“Do you think they’ll find her?”
“I hope so. I don’t really want any more nights like this.”
“I don’t know. It’s not so bad. The moon’s nice.”
“Yeah,” Nicholas agreed softly. “Maybe another night like this wouldn’t be too bad. But we can still go for walks in the middle of the night after they find Drusilla.”
“Do you think I’ll get a chance to stake a vampire?”
Nicholas blanched. “I hope not, Danny. If we run into a vampire, that means Drusilla killed somebody else.”
“Yeah, that’s true. But still…”
“I just want a chance to see a bit of action. Everybody else gets to.”
“Well,” a man said from behind them, “maybe you’ll get that chance.”
Nicholas and Danny turned to face the vampire at the same time. Before Nicholas could make a move, a second flew at them from the side, tackling Nicholas to the ground. The crossbow he had been holding in his free hand went flying out of reach, and out of the corner of his eye, he saw the first vamp launch himself at Danny.
Nicholas grappled with the enormous vampire, struggling to get out from under him. He could sense Danny and the other vamp moving behind him, and his attacker took advantage of his distraction, moving in for his neck. Nicholas slapped the heel of his hand into the vampire’s nose at the last second, and blood immediately erupted from his face. The blow was enough to stun the vampire, and Nicholas rolled out from under him to jump to his feet.
Nicholas grasped the second, smaller vampire by his shoulders and yanked him away from Danny, throwing it to the ground. But the vampire was fast, and he was attacking again within seconds. Nicholas braced himself, making sure he stayed between the demon and Danny. The vampire’s fist immediately connected with his left cheek, and pain exploded in his eye. Nicholas lashed out, almost blindly, and returned the punch with enough force to send the vampire back again.
When the vamp made another move, Nicholas kicked out and smashed the vampire’s balls under the heel of his shoe. He crumpled to the ground.
“You okay?” Nicholas asked breathlessly, turning to Danny.
“Yeah. Look out!”
They both ducked at the same time, and the meaty fist whistled past their heads harmlessly. Nicholas pulled the gun out of the side holster Danny wore. He spun on his heel and barely had time to aim before pulling the trigger. Blood and flesh erupted from the vamp’s throat where the bullet buried itself, and the bulky vampire stumbled back, groping soundlessly at its neck.
“Thank you. Got your stakes?”
Nicholas aimed at the second vampire, and this time the bullet found its home in a golden eye. The back of his skull and bits of brain came flying out, splattering on the stone fence behind him. Despite the shot, he continued to lumber forward with an inhuman growl.
“Wow, that didn’t even stop him.”
“I know.” Nicholas squinted through his swelling eye and fired twice more. Each vampire hit the ground, both clutching what remained of their left knees. “But that did. Want to do the honors?”
Danny clutched his stake tightly and approached each of the writhing vamps. One reached out to grab his ankle, and Nicholas prepared to shoot again, but Danny nimbly stepped out of reach and bent to slam the stake into the vampire’s heart. The vampire’s growl was choked off as it exploded into dust. Danny spun on his heel and did the same to the second vampire.
“Did you recognize either of them?” Nicholas asked.
“Nah. Hard to tell with those bumps, though, isn’t it?”
Danny kicked a small pile of dust. “It’s kind of weird how their clothes go, too.”
“That’s the weird thing?”
“I’ll have to remember to ask Buffy about that.” Danny rubbed the back of his hands. “This dust is itchy.”
“It is,” Nicholas agreed absently as he loaded the gun. “Told you this would slow them down.”
“Do you think wooden bullets would work?”
“Maybe. But where would you find them?” Nicholas bent and picked up the crossbow.
“Yeah, good point.” He took the gun back from Nicholas and holstered it. “Think there are any more vampires around?”
“What’re you thinking?”
“I wouldn’t mind staking a few more. If your eye is okay, that is. It doesn’t look great.”
“Nah, I’m fine.” Nicholas slapped Danny on the back of the shoulder. “Let’s go see what we can find.”
Spike momentarily forgot about his marching orders, his promises to Buffy, his vow to finally just end it, because this was Drusilla. And for over a century, she had been his Drusilla, and he couldn’t stand to see her like this. She was his sire, and so much a part of him, of who he was. He couldn’t turn his back on that when she looked at him like that.
He folded his fingers around hers and gently pulled her from the ledge. “What snare did you find?”
Dru didn’t speak, swaying into his arms as if she had never left. There was no hiding for her when she was this close, and bands of steel closed around his chest when he saw the scratches amidst the welts. She had obviously clawed at her face in her agony, and her deadly nails had inflicted just as much damage as…what? Holy water? Had she had a run-in with Nicholas and his crew?
“You shouldn’t have come,” she murmured. Hands like dried webs wafting in the wind skimmed over his chest, not quite touching, not quite not. “You should have stayed away, Spike.”
“Yeah, well, I’m always doing things I shouldn’t do. I wouldn’t be me if I did the smart thing, would I?” And it seemed like he was going for some sort of record since arriving in Sandford. Wrapping his arm around Drusilla and holding her closer was probably not even the worst decision he had made in the past forty-eight hours. He ghosted his fingers over her face, collecting a trace of blood from the deep gouges.
Dru turned into his touch. “Your heart has always been your truest grace.”
“Drusilla, it’s still early.” He couldn’t pull his hand away. The contact seemed to make her feel better. “There’s still plenty of moonlight left. Leave Sandford. Go back to South America. You liked Brazil. And it’s summer down there. Much nicer than winter in merry old England, yeah?”
Her lashes ducked. “Can’t leave,” she said, twisting out from the circle of his arms. She moved in circles over the flat roof, head cocked as if she was listening to some unknown melody. Spike snorted softly. She probably was. “There’s wishes to make, and beggars to ride.”
“Beggars would ride, pet,” Spike said automatically, though it didn’t matter, and it didn’t make a difference. Something was keeping her there. And something was hurting her. But the only person who had that sort of power over her was Angelus, and Spike was pretty certain that he had nothing to do with this mess. Not one hundred percent, because he never lost a chance to think the worst of Angel, but still pretty certain. He decided to take one more stab at being reasonable. “Dru, when Buffy sees you again, she will stake you. This might be your only chance to leave.”
“Did you take your chance, Spike?”
“No, I guess I never did take my chance.” He watched as Dru danced further and further away from him. How was he going to tell Buffy he didn’t take his chance when he had it? He knew he’d better brace himself for the I told you so now. “But I won’t let it slip by me again.”
She stopped where she perched on the edge overlooking the alley. When she looked back at him, the moonlight made her face look like it was still bleeding, though he knew the skin had long ago scabbed over.
“Don’t play the game,” she said. “You never liked the rules anyway.”
Then she was gone, a single step sideways dropping her into the lightless chasm.
Wesley didn’t emerge from his hiding place until long after Spike had jumped off the side of the roof, following Drusilla. He clutched a stake in one hand and a crossbow in the other, and tried not to think about the number of open shots he had but didn’t—couldn’t—take. Each time he tried, he thought of Fred.
Fred doing everything she could to save Spike. Fred arguing that Spike was worth saving. What would Fred say if she saw him literally stabbing a friend in the back? What would she think of him?
He couldn’t help but laugh at the picture the three of them made. Drusilla unable to save herself. Spike unable to harm her. Wesley unable to harm Spike. They all had their roles, they all knew their parts, but none of them quite had the courage to do what they knew they needed to do. It was rather pathetic when you thought about it—and Wesley did think about it. A great deal.
Wesley settled on the ledge, his feet dangling off the side of the roof, still holding the stake loosely. He should have followed Spike. Or gone after Drusilla. But he didn’t make a move to do either. Instead, he closed his eyes to the moon and forced himself to concentrate. It was hard to do. It felt like there was something extra in his head, like they had grafted a bulky piece of machinery right to his brain. But they had assured him they hadn’t done any such thing, and Wesley had to admit, when he looked in the mirror, he seemed normal. A bit more pale than usual, but that wasn’t out of place in England. Certainly if anybody saw him walking down the street, they wouldn’t immediately think of him as a zombie with extra dials and wires in his head.
Sometimes, he wondered if this was how Charles felt when he had his brain upgrade.
It took several minutes to abandon the notion of an extra piece of equipment under his skull, and several more after that to push beyond the thoughts of Spike, and Drusilla, and Fred, and Charles. He reached forward, his mind flying through the night, until he found Angel.
It was easier to do now they were on the same continent. Not that finding Angel was ever really hard. Not for him. Could Angel sense him? Could Angel feel Wesley’s mind touching his, even when Wesley was trying to disguise himself? Was that why he kept moving? Not that moving was a bad idea. He had thwarted the Senior Partner’s plans more than once with his constant roving.
That, and a few carefully chosen thoughts Wesley had left implanted in his memory. Nothing overt. Nothing to make Angel think somebody was pushing past his rather impressive mental defenses. But enough to keep Angel one step ahead.
Except the Senior Partners were now officially impatient. Time had run off the clock. For Angel. For Spike. For Wesley, himself. Wesley didn’t know what more the Partners could do to make his eternity hellish, but he was not interested in seeing how creative they could get.
It hadn’t taken Wesley long to figure out the rules of his new position in Wolfram and Hart. The Senior Partners believed in swift and unambiguous punishment, but they were equally quick to dole out rewards, if they were pleased.
And all he had to do to protect Angel and make sure he lived to fight another day was sacrifice Spike.
Which was easy enough.
Except that Fred had once called Spike a champion, and Spike had been the first to volunteer to fight at Angel’s side in the final battle.
Wesley pulled away from Angel’s mind and opened his eyes. He’d send Drusilla out again the next night. He didn’t want to risk Spike ignoring the bait. He’d have to make sure she upped the stakes a bit.
To be continued in Chapter 11...