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Rewind. Shuffle. Replay. by cloud_forest
 
The Harvest
 
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Author's Notes:

Thank you so much for the positive feedback so far. Because I'm enjoying writing it so much, I'm very nervous about how this story goes over, so it's good to see thumbs up so far. :D

Dialogue lifted from Season 1, 'The Harvest'.
 



 

For the eight hundred and thirty sixth time that week, Buffy found herself missing Los Angeles. Big city like that, the principal barely noticed she was more than one of the two thousand human-shaped cockroaches scurrying around their school, let alone took time out of their day to find out why she was standing so close to the edge of school property.
 
Of course, Sunnydale hadn’t been so bad to her thus far. Except for the whole threat of apocalypse looming over her head, she was actually sort of enjoying herself. Had even made three new friends by the end of her first day.
 
Although, depending on how this mission turned out, that number might already be knocked back to two.
 
But- no. No, that wasn’t how this was going down. Buffy was gonna get Jesse out.
 
Just as soon as she found something to break this stupid chain. Wrapped around the entryway to the tunnel like some vile serpent, mocking her for the fact that yeah, she could take out two, three, even four vamps in one night but some measly little chain and padlock? Suddenly had her stumped.
 
A familiar sound pinged through the air then. Followed by a quick grinding noise.
 
Great. Stalker Guy from the night before was back.
 
Sighing, hands resting on her hips, she looked up at the ceiling as if she’d find some secret reserve of patience stowed there. No such luck. “I don’t suppose you have a key on you?”
 
“Sorry. Dropped it down the sewer on my way here.”
 
“Great. A blowtorch then?”
 
“In my other coat.”
 
Buffy turned to face him then, annoyed by the fact that filtered daylight was as kind to his facial features as the shroud of evening. Let’s skip right over that thought though, shall we?
 
“So, what? Were you just waiting around until I got here so you could gloat about how much help you’re not gonna be?”
 
“More or less.” Slipping his lighter back into his pocket, he strode forward to close the gaping distance between them. “Knew you’d figure this entryway out sooner or later.” He squinted one eye at her. “Actually, I thought it’d be a little sooner.”
 
Oh, so… not only was he not going to help her, he was going to tease her as well?
 
Crossing her arms over her chest, Buffy glared at him. “Are you planning to make a habit of dropping in on me like this? ‘Cause there were a lot of things I was hoping to find when I moved here, and a stalker definitely wasn’t one of them.”
 
“Hadn’t given it much thought one way or the other, to be honest.” He was grinning at her. Grinning. Apparently more amused by her indignation than in any way affronted. “And, not a stalker here. Haven’t sent you any notes written in blood, have I? And when’s the last time you heard of a stalker being helpful?”
 
“You’re not being helpful. I thought we’d covered that part.”
 
Still grinning. “Right. Sorry.”
 
“All right. Fine. If you’re gonna be making a habit of this… popping-up-wherever-I-am act, then… can you at least tell me your name?”
 
He seemed to actually take his time in contemplating how to respond to this request. Unfortunately for him though, one of this guy’s biggest problems appeared to be an inability to control his own vocal cords. “S-William.”
 
Buffy cocked an eyebrow and giggled a little. “Swilliam?”
 
A muscle in his jaw flexed, bulging beneath the skin like a groundhog about to break through the earth’s surface. “It’s. William.”
 
God, he almost seemed to be in physical pain at having to be marginally polite. “Well, William. It’s nice to meet you. I’m Buffy.”
 
The way his own eyebrow twitched- she hadn’t noticed the jagged scar there before –and his mouth curled up at one corner, she couldn’t tell if he was fighting back the urge to laugh at her given name… or if he was amused by her choice to offer it at all.
 
Because she got the feeling he sort of already knew that piece of information.
 
Which, come to think of it… if that were the case, maybe she shouldn’t be standing in some secluded, abandoned mausoleum with a guy who would had to have known her name before tracking her down first in an alleyway, and then here. Both times when she was alone.
 
Somehow, she was starting to think she might be better off with the gang of bloodsucking fiends waiting for her.
 
Turning around, she moved to make a second attempt at the door, when his voice stopped her. “Again, love. I’d like to advise against the suicide mission.”
 
Buffy had to laugh at that comment. She had to. Facing him again, arms crossed, she tilted her head. “Let me ask you something. This Harvest thing you mentioned last night. The thing you want me to be ready for… I’ve asked around, and sources all say it’s on the epic level of badness.”
 
A single nod. “Sources say right.”
 
“So what you’re telling me is that I need to stay on the chained side of this door right now, so I’ll be able to go and face some other suicide mission later on?”
 
“That about sums it up.”
 
She gaped at him. “God! Do you even listen to yourself when you talk?”
 
He shrugged. “I drift in and out.”
 
Okay, that was it. She officially hated this guy. “Well, guess what. You? You’re gonna have to deal with my going.”
 
“The Harvest is tonight, you ninny,” he growled, taking another step closer. “You put yourself at risk like this, get yourself killed? The Master walks. Then it’s so long bloody Sunnydale and the rest of the world with it.”
 
Attempting not to taste the plume of leather and cigarettes that had just wafted in her direction, she stared right back at him, refusing to let her foundation be shifted by the bulldozer of his gaze. “Well, if this Harvest thing is such a suckfest, why don’t you stop it?”
 
This made him stand up taller. Made him squint his eyes a little as his head tilted off its axis ever-so-slightly. “Between the two of us, which one is the Slayer?”
 
A rock jammed in her throat when that word… that title slipped past his lips. Now, she stared at him not out of determination, but because her eyes had lost their ability to focus. Had simply reset to default mode and were gazing at whatever happened to be right in front of them.
 
Of course, she already knew that he must know what she was. He wouldn’t have followed her last night or today, wouldn’t have given her the cross or have been saying all the things he’d said if he didn’t know, but… she just hadn’t expected him to come right out and say it like that.
 
Somehow though, that comment just added to her strength. Yeah. Right now, she was willing to accept that she was the Slayer. Which meant she had every right- hell, a duty –to do what she’d come here to do. Spinning around, leg already cocked, she drove her boot into the metal structure. Tried not to acknowledge the way her muscles sang in delight at the feeling of such a thorough impact.
 
“They know you’re coming.”
 
“I’ve got a friend down there. Or… at least, a potential friend. Do you know what it’s like to have a friend?”
 
“Sure I do. Got you, don’t I?”
 
Buffy didn’t know how to answer that. Even more, she didn’t know if he was joking, or… attempting to hide something from her that she’d unknowingly unearthed. Like bug scrabbling for cover beneath an uplifted boulder, hoping that if it can get out of sight quickly enough, it’ll be saved from getting squished.
 
When a few seconds ticked by in which she failed to come up with a response that didn’t involve her jaw dangling open, he sighed in defeat. Whether it was because she had actually unsettled him with her question and he was attempting to cover for it, or because he was starting to understand that he was not in control of this particular situation, she didn’t know. Didn’t really care at the moment, either, because either way, she was getting the information she needed.
 
“When you hit the tunnels, head east towards the school. ‘S where you’ll likely find them.”
 
“Thank you,” she murmured, pausing to make sure that he knew she meant it. “So. You gonna wish me luck?”
 
The corner of his mouth quirked upwards. “Yeah. Good luck, Slayer.”
 
Unsettled again by his use of such a moniker, even though it was technically correct, she nodded and headed through the doorway.
 
“Although I’d wager that between the two of you, you’re not the one that’s gonna need it.”
 
“Oh yeah?” she scoffed. “That why you came to stop me from even going down… there?” Two days she’d known him, and already he seemed to have the uncanny ability to make her dizzy in all kinds of ways. She’d spun around yet again to face him, but somehow, without making a sound, he’d already disappeared.
 
“Yeah…” she said into the air, ignoring the little thread of disappointment that had now knotted in her stomach at his departure, because again with the hating him. “See you around.”
 

|#|+---+---+|#|

 
She’d done it. The fucking girl had done it.
 
Though he’d sworn to himself that he wouldn’t get involved, Spike hadn’t even tried to resist claiming a front-row seat to the whole show. It had required a bit of fighting against the very laws of gravity, clinging to some rafters that dug into some rather inconvenient locations on his body, but he didn’t regret a single second of it.
 
Oh, he’d have stepped in if he had to. Would’ve relinquished his oh-so-comfortable spectator’s spot to join in the fray if the big, vampire-shaped pile of cinderblocks had become a real threat to her. But he never had, so Spike stayed put.
 
Sure, there was a not-miniscule part of him that raged at staying idle through the whole thing. Every muscle in his body tensed and seized, protesting their lack of involvement in the fight. Angry that he would deprive them of such joyous chaos and violence.
 
But this battle… he knew it had to be hers. From start to finish, it was the Slayer’s gig. It was she who had to engage the enemy, who had to fight and finally slaughter them. Spike couldn’t imagine any other way for her to seize hold of the power that she possessed, and to really claim it as her own. From the way she’d spoken last night and earlier that day, he could tell that she was still uncomfortable with it. Bitter about having such a responsibility- a monumental one indeed –thrust upon her.
 
Tonight… it was a way for her to understand the necessity of embracing her calling. To perhaps see that she could even enjoy it.
 
And she had enjoyed it.
 
God, the girl was glorious to watch.
 
She wasn’t perfect. No, if anything she was still nearly as green as the needles on a Douglas-fir. Her staking technique needed to be refined, and it was clear that she hadn’t even begun to unlock the strength that was sewn through the sinews of her flesh. She thought a little too much about some of her more acrobatic moves, and that Watcher of hers would have to teach her a few things about keeping aware of her surroundings, no matter how many distractions were being lobbed at her.
 
That was half the fun of the show she put on though. Everything about her, about what she did, was still so raw. Still lacking some of the finer fighting skills, she instead used what was around her. Used her environment as a weapon. She’d used a god damned cymbal to decapitate a vamp. Took out the Vessel himself with nothing but misdirection…
 
Girl was a bloody genius, and she probably didn’t even know it.
 
Looked good with his gift slung around her neck through the whole thing, too. He wondered if she’d thought of him at all when she’d been slipping it on…
 
One thing was certain though. Despite all of her protests, no matter how much she insisted that slaying the Big Bad was someone else’s problem, she’d had fun tonight. She probably hadn’t meant to, probably didn’t want to, but… the quips, the little snickers she’d made at her more clever dusting methods… they served as pretty clear evidence that yeah, she liked what she did. Even if she wouldn’t admit it.
 
During the time he’d spent observing her so far, studying her, Spike had wondered on more than one occasion if the Powers had chosen her simply to play a practical joke on the Watchers. Handing over this bottle blonde former cheerleader whose main priority in life used to be making sure that the contents of her closet mirrored those of the latest magazines. They probably didn’t think, didn’t even care if this girl would last more than a few weeks. After all, there was always another Slayer waiting in line.
 
Yet here she was. Still. Nearly a year in and it looked to him like she was just beginning what would be a long and successful career.
 
Or maybe he was just confusing what he saw with what he hoped to be true…
 
Didn’t matter though. Not tonight. Tonight, she’d done what she had to. Stopped the Master from rising. Converted that bulkhead of a manservant of his into nothing more than a smudge on the stage, mixed in with the spilled beer and cigarette ash.
 
Spike was proud of her. Proud of his… proud of this girl.
 
Couldn’t wait until the next Big Bad came to town, so he could watch her dismantle that, too.



Post-Chapter A/N: The "I drift in and out" joke was taken directly from S2, E18 of Family Guy. Mentioning it here because I didn't want to spoil it by addressing it at the top.






 
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