The Many Shades of True Heroes
by
L Mouse
Chapter 6
Minor PG rating for implied m/m relationships between vampires.
* * * * *
Spike sipped his wine and leaned back against the wall in a dark corner of the bar. The room was smoky and the air smelled wonderfully of barbeque meat. Mama's Bar was known as much for Mama's pulled pork as it was for being a fine drinking establishment.
It was also neutral ground, as far as demons went. Certain classes of humans came here as well -- most fit in with the demon crowd for one reason or another. And he worked here -- Mama knew exactly what he was. Being inhuman helped her there; he wasn't exactly sure what flavor of demon she was but few human women stood seven feet tall, massed around four hundred pounds of solid muscle, and had three fingers on each hand. She had pegged him as vampire the moment he'd walked in her door a few months ago.
She'd calmly handed him a menu, and had equally calmly threatened to stake him if he made any trouble. When he'd pitched in to help evict a pair of Throk demons who were making trouble a few weeks later he'd earned himself a paid job as "peacekeeper." It had helped that Mama had sources who'd told her some of his back story; she didn't care for vampires much, normally.
Bouncing at Mama's paid some of his bills; various odd jobs -- not all of them legal, but all of them honest -- covered the rest. Metropolis was an expensive place to live even for a man who was perfectly happy with a dank basement apartment in a bad part of town. The last several months hadn't been easy but he was making it on his own, and doing it in ways that he could be proud of.
Mama caught his eye, from across the room, and cast a significant glance at a trio of men who'd just entered the bar. She made a staking motion -- she could identify a vampire faster than he could; he had to rely on smell and an acute sense of hearing. She wasn't asking him to stake the vampires but simply to keep an eye on them -- what he did later, on his own time, she'd made clear she didn't want to know about. Vampires were trouble, though; violent and bad for business. She didn't mind when unpleasant vampire customers came up missing. She just didn't want to be associated with it in demon circles. Killing the clientele was also bad for business.
He didn't recognize the trio, but knew the type. They were well dressed, drinking freely, athletic, raucous. The trio had a certain, unmistakable, sexually charged edge. Once, he and Angel and Darla and Dru had been something similar. Party animals, always on the prowl, dangerous, not to be trusted. And these weren't fledges; something about their demeanor warned him that they had some experience as vampires. They wouldn't be easy kills and he'd already made up his mind that he needed to kill them.
They claimed a booth and began loudly haranguing Evelyn, one of Mama's waitresses, for drinks. Blood and rum; the taller, older of the trio ordered drinks for his companions. He was the sire, Spike decided; the other two were his get. As he watched, the master reached out and stroked one of his boy's cheeks -- then turned the gesture into a vicious slap.
"We go back!" The master said, shortly.
Spike casually claimed a table near their booth. By prearrangement with Evelyn he ordered whisky -- "Just bring the bottle!" but the amber liquid in the bottle was tea. If he was going to tackle this trio later in the evening he'd need to be sober. He'd also need to have the element of surprise so he wanted to appear that he was just a lone vampire on a bender.
He listened, discretely, as the trio argued. As he'd assumed they were up to no good.
"Pier, there's millions of people in this city, all easy pickings. I don't see why we have to go kill *that* one!" One of younger vampires, a blond man, protested. "He's got some kind of mojo!"
Pier glared at the blond vampire. "He's in the way. We haven't been able to use the construction site for ... amusement ... since they hired him. He's just a man, Rufus. Like any other. We can take him out."
Huh. Somebody'd hired someone -- what, a security guard? -- with the stones to tackle vampires, Spike realized. Now he was curious as well as feeling a bit heroic on general principles. He was new to town, but he'd identified most of the players on the side of the light -- there were twenty or thirty people in town who might be able to put the hurt on a vampire. None of them worked as security guards.
Could be somebody under cover, he supposed. Given that Buffy was in town, it could easily be one of the Scoobies. He decided he'd let the vampires lead him to their intended victim before he dusted them, rather than catching them in a dark alley somewhere.
"You've got to admit he's gorgeous," the other young vampire said, with a leer of appreciation. "Hey, Pier, do you think we could turn him? You know I love guys like that -- gotta love those brown eyes and that black hair and we could make him our pet for a few decades. He wouldn't be no trouble, Pier!"
Black hair. Brown eyes. Working as a security guard on a construction site. Able to do something nasty enough to an experienced trio of vampires to make them hesitant about going another round.
Spike knocked back a shot glass of tea and listened with a growing sense of amusement as the blond fledge -- Rufus -- joined in, proclaiming the man's attributes. It seemed like the guy had broad shoulders, and was tall and handsome and generally appealing. Given that these were vampires and vampires weren't exactly known for being discriminating about their sexual partners, that might mean simply that the guy was moving.
But the description of the guy made him grin with anticipation. Given that Buffy, Giles, and Willow were in town that likely meant the third original Scooby was around somewhere too. This might just be fun.
* * * * *
"Taxi!" Giles waved his hand. The taxi cruised by without stopping, leaving him standing alone on a dark street. He could smell rotting garbage and diesel fumes; the hot night magnified the foul city air. There was no one human in sight.
He glanced around warily, assessing his surroundings. The Magic Book, one of several magic shops in town, wasn't in the best neighborhood and he'd spent far longer than he'd intended catching up with the owner, an old friend, after buying some of the supplies needed to send Clark home. It was well past dark.
Grimly, he started walking back to Lois' apartment. "Just my luck to die of a mugging," he muttered as he headed down the dimly lit street.
When he heard footsteps behind him, he wasn't surprised. He was even less surprised when it turned out to be someone after him -- he sped up and so did the footsteps. He turned up a side street; the footsteps followed.
He broke into a run. The person ran after him. He looked back, saw blue hair and glittering blue eyes, and ran harder. The woman was faster than he was; she was clearly a demon. He ducked into an alley, and tried to punch the woman as she whipped around the corner after him. Impossibly fast, she grabbed his wrist, slammed her other fist into his gut, and then flung him into a wall. He tried to scramble to his feet but another blow followed, and then muzzy darkness. Dimly he was aware of being carried before consciousness faded entirely.
* * * * *
Tracking the vampire trio wasn't hard; they left a sour odor of plentiful quantities of wine in their wake. They'd drank a couple of bottles each -- enough to get a vampire buzzed and happy but not enough to slow his reflexes down substantially. Spike followed after them, a few hundred yards behind, hands in his pockets. They were having a good time -- he watched as they kicked in a door on a liqueur store and helped themselves to more booze. Party boys; he knew the type.
He slid his hands into the pockets of his duster and fingered his stakes. This was going to be a heck of a fight. He was looking forward to it; he grinned as he followed them from a block behind. They led the way to a fenced construction site -- a very large skyscraper was being erected on a city block. It loomed overhead, backlit by a full moon -- it was a skeleton of steel girders and concrete pillars and three very large cranes. The site itself was a jumble of construction materials, equipment, trailers, and assorted shadowed and bulky objects.
Everything had a certain patina of neglect over it. The equipment had cobwebs on it, and flat tires, the lumber was warped and sunbleached, and rust coated the girders. Spike was new to town but he had a vague memory of reading a newspaper article about a company going bankrupt and a bit of a political fight over what to do with a half-built skyscraper that nobody now wanted to complete or pay to tear down, and creditors warring over the assets on the site.
Spike grimaced as he hopped the fence after the trio. The place was a maze. He could see why the vampires wanted to be able to use it; it would make a fine lair. The lower levels of the building were partially complete and the basement should be closed in and safe from the sun.
A construction trailer had lights on in it, at the base of the building. He could hear an old movie playing on a TV in the trailer and could smell somebody's dinner -- ramen noodles, maybe some egg. He crept closer, keeping to the shadows. He was just as much a vampire as the trio of playboys and if this guy did have any kind of magic he didn't want to get caught in a case of mistaken identity. Emphasis on the "stake" in mistaken.
Something crashed, loudly, nearby. Glass broke. The vampires shouted with drunken glee. Spike drew farther back into the shadows.
When the door opened on the trailer and a man burst out he was moving so fast that Spike only caught a glimpse of black hair, olive skin and broad shoulders. *Maybe ...* He wasn't sure who he'd seen. He ran after the man, towards the noise.
"Hey!" The man shouted, "Get out of here!"
The vampires whirled -- they'd been smashing the windows in on one of the cranes, no doubt to lure the man out into the open. If he lived in the trailer they wouldn't have been able to cross his threshold so they had to make himcome out. Spike winced as they whirled around, game faces illuminated by moonlight.
"You freaks again," the man said, stopping lightly on the balls of his feet. Spike approached from behind, frowning. The man was athletic -- he wore battered jeans, redwing work books, and a tight t-shirt, and Spike noted significant muscles. He had black hair, a bit curly. For a moment, Spike entertained the thought that this might be Xander ... but no, he was built wrong. Xander was a big man, but no athlete, not like this guy Spike was vaguely disappointed; coming to Xander's rescue would have just made his day, mostly because it would have pissed Xander off. "I told you to get lost the last time."
With snarls, the vampires lit into the man. Spike was *impressed* when the man more than held his own. He fought well -- he was fast, very strong, and fearless. Spike watched as the man caught Pier by the arm and threw him hard into a pile of iron scraps, and sent Rufus flying over the fence. He punched the third vampire in the face hard enough to send blood flying.
Spike watched for a few minutes more as the man proceeded to beat the vampires to a pulp. The vampires weren't backing down, though.
"Give it up already!" The man said, chucking Rufus against the side of the crane so hard that he left a dent. There were several previous dents on the crane already. Rufus -- battered, bruised, but with singleminded vampiric determination -- rolled to his feet and charged at the man again.
"What are you freaks *on*!" The man said, "Damnit, give it up!"
He obviously had no idea how to deal with a vampire. When the dark-haired man tossed Pier at Spike's feet Spike pulled out one of his stakes and efficiently dusted the vampire. The dark-haired man stared at Spike, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
Spike tossed him another stake. "Your turn."
The man was a *quick* learner -- he dusted the other two in short order, after seeing Spike's example, then spun around and stared at Spike with wide eyes. "What are those things?"
"Vampires." Spike stepped closer, and frowned. The man looked familiar. Not Spike, but -- "Clark?"
No, that wasn't right. The man gave him a puzzled look. He had Clark's face, but his hair was a bit longer, he looked ten years older, and he was just slightly heavier. But they could be twins, or clones, ten years apart. Maybe brothers. Or maybe all just aliens simply looked alike.
"I'm Bill," the man said, holding a hand out for Spike to shake. "Bill Smith."
"Spike." Spike said. Bill even smelled almost like Clark Kent, though Bill's odor indicated he hadn't been eating nearly as well -- he smelled of junk food and ramen noodles. The classic American poverty diet. There was no taint of booze or drugs on the man, though. Given his physique, Spike wondered briefly why the man was living in a construction trailer babysitting an abandoned building site. With looks like that he should have been able to find a decent job -- Spike had no illusions about how having a pretty face affected one's job prospects.
"Vampires?" Bill said, regarding Spike levelly. "You're the same as they are."
Spike held his hands up defensively and backed away. Bill obviously had detected he was a vampire. And one taste of Clark's power and speed had made him exceedingly wary of Kryptonians in general. "Not a bloody bad guy, mate. I'm the only vampire you're ever to likely meet who willingly works for the forces of good. Excluding Angel and he's probably dead."
Bill said shortly, "Why are you here?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Got wind those three were going to make some trouble. I thought I'd stop it."
Bill said, "Why?"
Spike shrugged expansively. He glanced at the horizon; late evening was rapidly becoming morning. "It's a habit. And now I do have to go."
"Wait!" Bill said, hurrying after him. "You can answer my questions, can't you?"
"Questions?" Spike said.
"You knew -- know -- about things. It's obvious you know what vampires are. I want to know. About the supernatural. Please." Bill asked. His tone was pleading and there was a yearning look in his eyes. "I've never met anyone who could answer my questions."
Spike hesitated. It was curiosity about the stranger more than any sympathy for his desire for answers that led him to answer, "Sure, mate. I'll fill you in on what I know. Mind, I'm no nerd boy, but I can tell you a few things."
Bill gave him a delighted grin. "Really?"
"Sure. Why the hell not. Meet me at Mama's Bar tomorrow night. This should be amusing." Spike glanced again at the horizon. "And now, I do have to go -- it's a long way back to my apartment."
