Feedback: Yes please but be very gentle. First fanfic and first slash.
Archive: If you want, but please let me know
Pairing: S/X
Rating: PG - NC 17 (maybe, I've never rated anything before)
Disclaimer: Most characters misrepresented in this tale belong to Joss Whedon,
Mutant Enemy and Neil Gaiman. I'm only taking them out to play, changing their
clothes and then putting them back. There may be some original characters floating
about. They are mine but usually don't admit to it.
Spoilers: Up to Buffy Season 6 sorta but definitely AU
Summary: Spike and Xander get to take a trip and go a bit further than intended.
Crossover eventually with Neil Gaiman's Neverwhere.
'' '' '' '' '' '' '' ''
Spike and Xander were motioned to the front of the dais. Spike stepped
forward with Xander half a step behind and to Spike's left. Spike's bow was
smooth and precise, respectful without in any way indicating that he was
inferior in rank to the Earl. The watchful wolfhound growled warningly and
Spike retuned the growl with interest. On a command from the Earl the dog
subsided but continued to watch the vampire carefully. Identity and species
established, Spike allowed his game-face to slip away.
Xander, much less practiced in bowing, stepped forward and managed to
follow Spike's lead without disgracing himself before standing back in his
position behind Spike's shoulder, waiting to follow the vampire's lead,
desperately curious about what the vampire had planned. Remembering,
ruefully, a few seconds later, that Master Vampire or not, careful forward
planning was not something that Spike did often or well.
"Harrum," mumbled the Earl, seemingly at a loss for something to
say. "I've
hunted a few o' your kind in my time, Master Vampire. Always gave me a damn
good run." His look at Spike was challenging.
"That's all right," replied Spike, unconcerned, "I've hunted
a few o' your
kind in my day."
A single shaggy eyebrow rose. "Drinking the blood of a vampire never lived
up to the expectation." A gnarled finger rose to caress the eye patch.
"Never does, your Grace, believe me."
The old man leaned back in his chair and chuckled, "Oh, Master William,
very good. Didn't get what you expected out o' bein' turned, eh? Still, you
pays your penny and takes your chance, or so I'm told. Looking to establish
territory in the underside, then?" The eye fixed on Spike unblinkingly,
suddenly less vague and watery.
Spike shook his head. "I have no intention of re-establishing my court
here. I needed access to the underside and it seemed only polite to pay my
respects."
The old man snorted. "Well thought out, Master Vampire. If I acknowledge
your presence here, the rest of the Underside will be available to you.
However, I could just drop you off at Blackfriars in London Above and that
would be the end of your little adventure. So what do you want in the
Underside, Master William?"
Spike considered. The Earl was generally temporally unfocused, or so rumour
all those years ago had held. It seemed they'd chosen a day when he was
firmly in the present in which to make their visit. That meant platitudes
and a quick escape were out. The Earl had been a cunning and brilliant
general in his day and tonight shadows of that man were firmly present.
The truth then, or part of it at least. There would be no sympathy for a
vampire or a childe of a vampire's menage here. The peoples of London Below
knew exactly what kind of nasties, beasts and boggarts existed in the
shadows. But trade was trade, be it with demon-kind or the sewer-folk.
"It's true, your Grace, I needed quick access to the Underside. Something
of importance to the safety of one of my menage has been lost here. I had
hoped to track information as to where it had gone. I had thought of
trading some goods for access and directions to the next Floating Market."
He swung Xander's backpack off his shoulder and patted it for emphasis.
The Earl turned to his herald. "Hear that, Halvard, they've lost
something." His tone was delighted and his single eye calculating. "I
don't
think trade for goods will be necessary. Follow me please, Master and
Consort."
He heaved his bulk upwards, dislodging the wolfhound on his feet, shuffling
forward and stepping carefully down the steps of the dais. Spike and Xander
stepped up behind him, followed by their crossbow-bearing guards. Pulling
back one of the tapestries revealed a door. Not the style of door that
traditionally linked two cars as Xander half expected, but instead an
impressive, oaken door with a gargoyle-faced doorknocker in the middle. The
Earl banged the knocker three times." Three's always the charm," he
mumbled
to Halvard, "but I wish to 'ell tha' door'd stay the same." He turned
back
to Spike and Xander. "Hurry up, step lively, mind your heads."
He led them through to a great library, bigger than the car of the train
that was supposed to contain it, with a high, wooden-beamed roof and tall,
tall bookshelves. The shelves were full, not only with books but with
scrolls and manuscripts, all jumbled together with objects, things Xander
could only describe as stuff or possibly junk. Umbrellas, china figures,
tennis rackets and hats. Dolls, some broken and some not, were propped up
against a model ship. Dangling from the ears of a stuffed white rabbit were
a pair of well used hiking socks. Single playing cards and Scrabble pieces
were strewn across a desk. Faded stickers on the desk declared that
Librarians Rule, OOK! and that Librarians Do It Between The Covers. Another
stated baldly, Hungry? Eat The Rich.
"Knew I was Lord of the Underground didn't you, Master William? Lord of
the
Bakerloo, the Waterloo and the great Piccadilly line."
Spike nodded.
"I also hold sway over th' Realm of the Lost, don't you know. Perhaps
we
can deal?"
Xander opened his mouth to speak but Spike shushed him. "Take it we're
not
talkin' about trade for goods here?"
The old man shook his head. "Favour for a favour, I'm thinking, Master
Vampire. It's a rare thing to be owed by one of your kind."
Spike shook his head and frowned. "Your Grace, I will not be in the
Underside long. I do not wish myself or my Consort to slip through the
cracks, so to speak. I have a menage to protect and a territory to guard. I
do not wish to leave myself in debt here; these things have a way of
pulling you back."
"Caution, caution. That's good, I like that in a man." The old man
turned
away from the vampire and began to search, seemingly at random through the
shelves. He stopped and frowned at the pair. "Sure it was lost?"
Spike shook his head "Stolen actually."
"Ahh, that explains it. Normally I can put my finger on it, just like
that." He clicked his fingers and picked up a faded scroll and unrolled
it.
Peering closely at it he discarded it in favour of a small leather bound
book. "Stolen is not my realm, you'd have to see others for that genr'ly."
He waved the book in Spike's direction and began to thumb through the
pages. "However, you'll definitely find somethin' you lost here."
A meaty
index finger stabbed at the page he stopped at. He saw Spike's doubtful
face and chuckled. "This one's for free, gesture of good faith 'an all,
then. Master's Consort," the Earl addressed Xander, "the shiny, red...,"
the Earl paused, tasting an unfamiliar word, "...g-string owned by the
ex-demoness Anyanka can be found behind your refrigerator."
Xander grimaced. That actually sounded about right; he'd wondered where it
had gone. They'd had sex in the kitchen not long before Anya noticed it
missing. It wasn't often he'd made her completely lose track of a
possession, even temporarily. In the wake of the big Spike-supervised
moving-out exercise Anya had accused him of keeping it for a souvenir.
She'd kept an exact catalogue of 'mine', 'his' and 'ours' and had taken
everything hers and demanded, in cash of course, exactly half the value of
everything that had been 'ours'. He often wondered what she was doing now,
sad that he'd hurt her but, in the face of the possessive regard now being
leveled at him, he wasn't at all sorry.
Spike didn't like the look of half -pleased reminiscence that had settled
on his boy's face and he glowered at Xander. Mine. Only mine. He wanted to
shag the ex-demoness right out of Xander's memory. He stepped forward and
encircled Xander's wrist with his hand, the Earl completely forgotten. "Mine!"
Xander wasn't at all perturbed by the vampire's tone and stare. "What?"
he
said in a low tone, knowing exactly what had bought this display on. "It's
not like I get all glower-like when you talk about Dru. Think I've got more
to worry about when she drifts back and starts throwing around Sire-voice,
hmmm?"
"That's-"
"That's a discussion for another time, yes? Now let's hear what the Earl's
got to say."
The Earl, apparently undisturbed by the small domestic dispute, had retired
to a faded yellow sofa where he was engaged in playing with a wooden cup
and ball set. When they both turned to look at him he spoke. "Now if it
were properly lost -your book, I mean-" He held up his hand when Spike
opened his mouth to demand how he had known it was a book. "Likely I'd
be
able to tell you exactly where it is and that would be worth an awfully big
favor, I think. As it is, I can only give you approximate directions to
where it may be. A smaller favour and one that can be discharged with
little effort on the way to where you need to be. Do we trade Master William?"
Spike didn't like to bargain sight unseen but even a little information was
better than the none they had at present. If it was for anyone but the
nibblet.... He sighed. "We can trade, Your Grace."
"Good, good, good." The Earl rubbed his hands together. "I have
an idiot
nephew. Rather paltry boy. Fancies himself the romantic hero. Not bad with
his pig-sticker though, a redeeming feature I suppose. Any rate, got
himself drunk 'an killed another equally idiotic young romantic in a brawl.
The other youngster was a member of the Ravens Court. I'm not willing to
break a heavily-paid-for truce," the Earl paused and rubbed his eye-patch
reflectively, "to shelter the young fool, family be buggered in this case.
The Baron Raven feels that his young noble got exactly what was due to him
but can't stop the noble's equally foolish friends from seeking revenge.
Matter of honour and all that. If Ranulf, that's my nephew, I think?" He
looked to Halvard for confirmation and Halvard nodded.
The Earl continued, "If the fool can get himself to his affianced folk,
they'll take responsibility for 'im. The young nobles aren't going to go up
against the Provost Marshall of the Moors Head Gate, 'an once he's through
the Gate he's safe enough and well out of the way. Which will be a blessing
on the domestic front; the boy's mother is a bit of a shrew." Earl and
Herald gave remarkably similar shivers. "So really all you have to do is
collect the fool and his long-suffering bodyguard from the White Chapel an'
escort them to the Floating Market at The Bloody Tower. And it's to the
Floating Market you need to go. I'm not saying' your book 'll be there but
it'll put you on the right path."
He held up his small leather bound book. "There will be a map to guide
your
way." He bought the book close to his and peered at it. "Possibly
a mop,
eye's aren't what they used to be," he mumbled. "No, almost certain
it's a
map and you'll find it at the Market. Try the bookstalls or Old Bailey."
The old man looked slightly apologetic.
The Earl rose and headed over to the sticker-covered desk. After rummaging
in the desk a few minutes, he pulled out a pencil and some paper and began
to draw. "This map will get you to the White Chapel. I've made sure it's
mostly tunnels, Master William but you will have to cross the Streets of
London. I don't think it'll be day there for a few hours yet. Halvard will
send a pigeon to the White Chapel to let them know you're on your way."
The
Earl yawned and made his way back to the sofa. "Halvard, see to them, give
them a token for the acolytes. Drop them off where they need to be." The
old man settled himself on the sofa, sinking his white-sprinkled red beard
onto his chest and heaving a sigh. "The days just seem to get longer.
You'll find what you lost, Master William," he mumbled as his eyes closed.
Halvard, an oddly tender look on his face gently covered the Earl with a
faded old blanket.
Spike sighed, it really wasn't much, except that they knew where the market
would be and got themselves guides there into the bargain. Still, they knew
that the book was definitely Underside and possibly traceable. He looked at
Xander, who shrugged and grinned, obviously not at all perturbed about
taking off into the tunnels on a potential wild goose chase.