1
Spike Giles was far beyond bored. He had been sitting in the darkened reception of the Watchers’ Council Headquarters in London for what seemed like an eternity when the woman sitting behind the large glass desk, in the uninterested yet condescending voice that only a receptionist could possess, said: “Mr Travers will see you now,” as though she was doing Spike some great favour.
“Cheers, love,” he replied with his trade mark lopsided grin. As with all other females, the grin did not go unnoticed by the woman who smiled coyly and batted her eyes at him. ‘Well who can blame the chit?’ Spike speculated.
He was gorgeous and he knew it. Spike did not meet the stereotypical idea of a tweed clad watcher. His bleached hair was slicked back. His all black attire was completed by the leather duster that billowed around him in the night wind. His chiselled cheeks and stormy azure eyes saw to it that he never went without a warm body to leave in the middle of the night.
Quentin Travers had told him to change his appearance many a time, and Spike had told him where to go more times than that. The only reason why he got away with it was because he was the best. Well, almost.
Such was the case when Spike strolled into Quentin’s office and threw himself into one of the leather armchairs at the long polished oak table.
“Dear Lord, Spike. Have you still not outgrown that guise?” Travers asked.
“Apparently not,” Spike replied in a deadpan voice with a similar expression.
When Travers got nothing else for a few seconds he cleared his throat loudly. He knew better than to aggravate Spike Giles. He was unpredictable and ruthless to the point of being a danger to the Council. However, he had proven that an alliance was better than a deviation during the months that the Council had asked him to leave for trivial misconduct.
“Er, right. Yes, I suppose you’re wondering why you’re back here.”
“It had crossed my mind,” Spike said in a pessimistic tone.
“Well, surely you’ll have noticed that in recent weeks we have been without a slayer. A travesty that we cannot let be any longer. However, the Wiccas tell me that there is an active Slayer. You, Spike, have been entrusted with the mission of finding the Slayer and training her.”
“You mean all the other watchers are too old to do it and I’m the only one fit enough to travel the globe in cargo looking for this slayer.” His voice did not change.
“One could put it like that if one wished,” Quentin said only to receive a roll of the eyes from Spike.
“So you accept?”
“Ain’t got nothin else better to do, have I?”
“Wonderful! This document tells you everything you need to know about your assignment.” A beefy man in a suit passed Spike a stack of paper that looked thick enough to be the entire history of the world with illustrations and diagrams.
“Right, We’ll start at the beginning then, shall we?”
“Makes sense.” Quentin clearly didn’t pick up on the cynicism in Spike’s voice since he went straight on with his presentation.
“Well, you may have heard that a prophecy was uncovered several weeks ago. We hadn’t had much luck translating it, until yesterday in fact. This prophecy tells us a great deal about the slayer.”
After a long pause Spike felt the need to usher him on a bit.
“Such as?”
“Well that she is completely different in all ways to anyone around her, not just in her obvious physical condition. Her appearance is also different. The text says, and I quote, “the Stolen Slayer shall be the colour of the night. Her hair and eyes shall be darkest black and her skin more fair than the palest moon. She shall be pure. No marks will tarnish her skin.” From this we hope you will find her quickly.”
“The Stolen Slayer?”
“Yes. She was taken from her homeland as an infant . She doesn’t belong in her current location. That’s why she looks different.”
“Right. And are you going to tell me where I’m headed? Because if I knew there was a country full of tanned blonde girls, I’d have set up shop there years ago.”
Travers merely offered him a slight grimace in place of a smile. In a solemn voice he said: “Well that is the slightly off putting part. It’s rather a distance, to say the least.”
“Australia?!” Spike exclaimed in horror. “No way, Trav. I am not spending a full day on a plane, I don’t care what class you put me in! You know I get restless easy.”
“No, Spike. Not Australia. Where I’m sending you is further away than that.”
He had hoped not to have to elaborate further, but at Spike’s perplexed face, he saw that he would have to.
“The place you are going is called Operimius. It is another world, Spike.”
“Oh.”
Spike had come to terms with this piece if information that Quentin obviously didn’t want to tell him quickly. Too quickly, as far as Travers was concerned.
“Bloody hell, Travers! Are you completely off it? Another world? Why don’t you just activate another potential? There’s loads of them!”
“Because this slayer is to be the greatest slayer that ever existed. The prophecy says that only the Stolen Slayer can stop the evil that shall contaminate the Earth.”
“That’s a pretty detailed prophecy. Does it even give you the time of contamination?” Spike retorted with sarcasm dripping from his tone.
“Yes, it does actually.”
“Christ,” Spike muttered.
“So do you accept?”
“No! Send Wesley.” Spike was getting concerned with how whiny he sounded.
“We can’t. Wesley, while being of the correct age, was not fit enough for this mission. We don’t know what you’ll face out there and we have to be sure that you won’t end up …” Quentin trailed off as if looking for a better word than the one Spike used.
“Dead?”
“Er, not to put to fine a point on things, yes.” Quentin shifted uncomfortably.
“Is there no one else? I’ve already been “deemed unsuitable for the Watchers’ Council”, remember?”
“I know that Spike. But we all know you are skilled in combat and what little grey matter you do possess seems to be working. There isn’t time to train a new watcher. The prophecy has given us one season before some unspeakable evil comes and wipes the world away. That’s three months.”
“So what you’re saying is that I have the fate of the world on my shoulders?”
“Yes.”
“You better be paying me well for this,” Spike grumbled.
~ ~ ~
Spike was looking at Quentin as though he had gone completely mad.
“Have you gone completely mad?”
“Not at all,” Quentin said as though it were Spike who was losing his mind.
They were sitting in Quentin’s Jaguar in an alley way in a shady area of London. It was the dead of night and apart from a stray cat the place was deserted.
“You’re telling me that there is a portal here that will take me to this other world and all I have to do is go through it?” Spike said with a raised brow.
“Precisely. Take this. One charm will disintegrate every week. We don’t know what the time scale will be out there and we need to make sure you’re back in time, so don’t loose it.” Quentin handed him a long chain with what looked like small mussel shells attached to it. One for each week he would be away. He had also been given a bag with a few things in. There was a protection charm, some food, a knife, matches, a change of clothes and a silver amulet that supposedly made the wearer invisible.
“The portal is over there behind that dumpster. If you look at it from the front you can’t see it, but if you go behind it it looks like a mirror. Remember where you come out in the other world. That’s where the portal will be for you to return home.”
Spike nodded. His heart was going at a mile a minute. He was so scared. He wished he could talk to his dad.
As though reading Spike’s mind, Quentin said: “Your father would be proud of you” in an uncharacteristically gentle voice.
Spike nodded once, shook Quentin’s hand and slammed the car door shut behind him. He crept behind the dumpster and flattened himself against the wall. He examined the area closely until he saw it. The portal was no bigger than an average radiator. It was touching the floor and the mirror effect made there appear to be a combat boot and shin standing without a leg. He would have laughed if he wasn’t been so anxious.
Taking one last look at the world around him, Spike got down on his hands and knees and crawled through the portal, entirely unaware of what awaited him on the other side.
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Author's Chapter Notes:
I'm really nervous about this one guys. It's kinda out there as far as plots go, and I'm pretty unsure of how you'll react. However I think I'm pleased with it, and if you are too, be a dear and review? :)