London Nocturne (Part 1)
Sandra
- Disclaimer: Characters created by Joss Whedon
- Distribution: Help yourself
- Rating: R (just guessing)
- Dedication: For Cassandra, because I promised her a story
- Feedback: Yes please
- Summary: A vampire and a Slayer meet in London during a sensational murder trial
- (Btw- personally I love London!)
Hell is a city much like London --
A populous and a smoky city;
There are all sorts of people undone,
And there is little or no fun done;
Small justice shown; and still less pity.
(Percy B. Shelley)
London. A chill driving rain sent the few pedestrians on Edgeware Road
scurrying for shelter.
All except for the slender blond man in the leather coat. He alone seemed
untroubled by the weather, sauntering casually across the street to wait on
the traffic island as the light changed.
There was a young couple caught with him; the girl gave him an interested
glance that made her companion scowl. The blond noticed; and his mouth
curved in amusement. He reached for a cigarette, groping for his
lighter...the flare of the tiny flame flicked over the window of the cab
pulled up beside him.
Shock held him suspended...he stared into the window- into luminous large
eyes he'd last seen half a world away, in a place where the sun was always
shining and the sky was always blue.
Or so he'd been told.
The line of traffic began to move; a sudden panicky feeling made him
strain to keep her in sight...but it was no use. She was going, would soon
be gone...the cab swirled around a corner.
The boy on the island smirked. "Lost her, hey mate?"
Spike smiled at the wanker, making a mental note to kill him at the first
opportunity. "Looks like it, mate."
The young man grinned. "Might be I could help you out, for a price."
"Yeah? You some sodding Sherlock Holmes?" Spike demanded.
"Don't have to be. That's my uncle's cab. Now...got a tanner?"
Spike blew a smoke ring. "I might at that."
***************************************************************************
*******************************************
The house stood in Kensington at the end of a quiet cul de sac. It was a
huge brick in the Queen Anne style, heavily embellished with porticoes,
porches, and towers.
Like a princess in a castle, Spike thought idly; then cursed himself for
thinking it.
Drusilla had been his princess, not the Slayer.
But...what was she doing here, in London?
High in one of the turrets, Spike saw a light go on, and he wondered if
that was her room.
He leaned forward a little; this reminded him of balmy nights in
Sunnyhell, when he'd sometimes stroll by the house on Revello Drive and
gaze up at her window. He'd never been sure why he did that; but once he'd
seen her light turn on while he watched. It made him feel...strange;
almost...excited.
"You should be more careful," a woman's musical voice sounded behind him.
Spike whirled- one arm coming up for a killing blow; but she didn't
flinch. Instead, she smiled at him; and his breath caught- she was,
quite literally, the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She was around
thirty, with dark hair that held the gloss of a raven's wing, and deep blue
eyes.
Welsh, he identified automatically.
He decided to bluff it out. "Careful, pet? Why is that?"
She put her head on one side and studied him. "Well...isn't it a bit
risky, for a vampire to approach the headquarters of the Watchers'
Council?"
Spike's cigarette fell from nerveless fingers. "Bloody hell! This is it?"
Before she could respond a black limo pulled up under the main portico;
and three people emerged. One was a fair girl with long hair nearly to her
waist; one a wizened, elderly woman. The third was a tall, extremely
handsome Eurasian man.
Spike watched them disappear into the house; then turned back to his new
acquaintance. To his astonishment, she'd gone as pale as milk...for an
instant he feared she was about to faint.
"I must go," she mumbled, starting across the street.
"Wait!" Spike grasped her arm painfully.
"Please! It's very dangerous- we can't talk here!"
"Where then?" Spike released her reluctantly.
"There's a place in Piccadilly- Samantha's- meet me there in two hours."
She ran swiftly towards the lighted doorway, but Spike couldn't see who
let her into the house.
"Sod it all!" he growled. "What was that all about?"
With one final glance up at the tower window, he strode off in the
direction of Piccadilly.
He had been six weeks in London; and spent five of them regretting he'd
ever come back. What had he been thinking? London had brought him nothing
but misery, ever...
Face it, chum, he told himself. What you wanted was someplace to lick your
wounds, far from anyone who knows you.
London had seemed an ideal choice- he knew it so well. Knew every street,
every byway...yet, in that whole great city, there was not one person who
remembered William the Bloody.
Until now.
Samantha's was small, quiet, discreetly lit... he waited in a private
booth. He'd almost given her up when she slid silently into the seat
across from him.
"My name is Blodwen," she told him, without preliminary.
He lifted the wine bottle he'd ordered, and filled her glass. "I'm Spike."
"I know of you," she said slowly. "Why were you watching the house?"
He had no intention of telling her that. " I heard something was going
down, pet. And I hate surprises."
"Are you planning to interfere?" she asked him baldly.
"No. Now...why don't you tell me what I won't be interfering with? Start
by explaining what you are!"
"But I told you..." she began.
Spike held up his hand. "Not WHO you are; WHAT you are. Are you a
Watcher? And, who were those people who showed up earlier?"
"It's all connected. The man you saw is Nigel Chang- and he's a Watcher.
The girl is named Stefania. She's a Searcher, as well as an empath. The
old woman is Elspeth Blackwood. She is the head of the Council."
Spike considered this. "Where do you fit in, Blodwen?"
"I work for Elspeth; but I'm not a full-fledged Watcher. Not yet."
He thought he heard an underlying edge there- but she continued, "That
isn't important. The Council is summoning as many of the Watchers, and
Searchers, as it can gather. They're coming from all over."
"What for?" Spike asked.
"For the trial, of course. In three days, the Council plans to put the
Slayer on trial- for her life."
"What?" Spike stared at Blodwen incredulously. "Why?"
Blodwen leaned towards him, her eyes somber. "For murder, Spike. You
see..." her hands were suddenly shaking; drops of merlot spattered across
the snowy tablecloth.
"...The Slayer killed her Watcher."
Next Part
Sunnydale