All We Are

One: Little Warrior

The first time Buffy Summers saw the bleach-blond Spike was when he came barreling through the hospital emergency room, his face purple and red with fresh bruises. He was striking, in both the 'car-wreck you couldn't look away from' and 'bad boy punk hottie from the streets' ways. He had on dark jeans so worn in some places it looked gray and some severely scruffed up Doc Martens. His black tee shirt looked stained with blood and was ripped in some places.

His entrance, however intimidating it seemed, barely ruffled the ER nurses and Doctors. Confused, Buffy observed the staff closely and their interaction with this new blond man. They seemed only irritated by his appearance, though for some the irritation was also accompanied by some degree of affection.

An annoyed sigh brought Buffy's attention back to herself. She turned and smiled when she saw Ben, the really nice intern who was working on her mother's case.

"That's Spike," Ben told her as he watched, disdain in his eyes, as the blond man approached the reception desk, a flirty grin on his face as he addressed the middle aged nurse, Rena.

"He looks like got beat up really bad," said Buffy, frowning.

"More like he was the one doing the beating up," mumbled Ben, "He's a hooligan."

"Oh." Buffy sounded almost disappointed, mostly by the fact that she found someone like that even a little bit attractive.

"So Buffy," said Ben, smiling at her, "You mom's fine. Looks like just exhaustion. We just have to run one more test, but you'll both be free in less than an hour."

Buffy let out a relieved breath, "That's great news. Is there anything I need to do?"

"Yes, Rena has some papers for you to sign," said Ben, motioning to the front desk where Spike was still conversing with the nurses, "I gotta go check up on a patient. Will you alright?"

Buffy nodded, "Of course. I'll be perfectly fine."

Ben gave her his most charming smile. "I'll see you Buffy."


She waved and watched as Ben hurried down the hospital corridor, musing how lucky she was to have such a good looking, young and nice Doctor—well, it was her mother's Doctor, really. She let out a breath and headed towards the desk, eyes warily on the hooligan Spike, who was hovering around the reception desk, probably waiting for his Doctor. He barely glanced at her as she brushed past him and ask Rena for her paperwork.

The door to the emergency room opened again and a pair of police officer entered, looking quite menacing and ready to make an arrest. They spotted Spike and made a beeline for him. Buffy watched with morbid fascination as things unfold, still standing at the reception and half turned towards them.

Spike gave the officers a grin so full of cheek that Buffy expected one of them to just punch or slap him, but she couldn't get rid of the notion of how good he looked with that grin.

"'Lo officers," Spike greeted, sliding his hands into his pockets, "I'm flattered you came all the way for lil ol' me."

Buffy noted his accent in surprise. British, like Giles, her Godfather.

The two officers glared, and when they came close enough, Buffy could see they were both much larger and taller than Spike, who mostly wiry in build.

"Spike," the dark haired officer grumbled, "This time we're gonna have to take you in."

Spike threw up his hand, "A date? Already? Said I was flattered, mate, but I don't bend that way. I mostly go for the birds."

The officers rolled their eyes. "Let's go Spike, we don't wanna make a scene in a hospital."

"Look mates," Spike sighed, "I'm all for justice and fighting for rainbows and puppies, shit, I'm all for the clink after a good fight, but this time 'round, I'm telling you, I didn't start it."

"You still knocked him out," the dark haired one muttered, "And that's ground for some time in cooler, buddy."

"Uh huh, not going 'til I see Grace."

"Spike! We don't have time for this."

"'M saying you do. S'not like you lot do anything most of the—"

"Alright, cuff him."

The light haired officer took a step forward towards Spike, cuffs in hand. Spike backed up a bit and made to evade the officer, but other man grabbed a fistful of his shirt and spun him around. He grabbed and twisted Spike's left arm while violently pushing Spike, face first onto the surface of the reception table. Buffy backed away slightly, startled and winced as she heard the smack as face met table top.

Spike let out a snarl, turning his face so that his left cheek was pressed down instead of his nose. His eyes traveled around angrily and finally fell on Buffy, meeting her eyes. He flashed a roguish grin at her and winked. Buffy started back, her face flushing in embarrassment. She caught herself a second after, and her pride swelled as her irritation did at his ill-time flirting. She pursed her lips, raised a bored eyebrow at him, rolled her eyes and turned her eyes away. She swore she heard him chuckle.

The next moment, Spike, handcuffed, was being led away from the two officers out of the ER room.

"Ooh boy," she heard Rena say, "One day that boy's gonna get in some real trouble."

Buffy looked at Rena, puzzled. "This wasn't real trouble?"

"Oh no honey, it's trouble alright, just petty kind. Spike's infamous 'round these parts for his hot tempered fights. Nothing serious though, just fisticuffs. But if he don't get his act up, he could end up doing worse."

"He beats up people?"

But her question went answered. Rena handed her some forms and left quickly to help an EMT handle a geriatric emergency.

Buffy was left with the image of those startling blue eyes meet her own, and winking.

The next day, Buffy made sure that her mother was comfortably nestled in bed with zebra toast and tea. The doctors had told her exhaustion, so Buffy made it her mission to make her mother untire-y as possible. Pamper her like a queen.

Joyce Summers was one of the hardest working people Buffy knew. If only her father had respected that, then he would have been here, doing the taking care instead of his 18 year old daughter. Lately, her mother had been working a lot more than usual—she had gotten an entire catalogue of works from three famous Czech artists who collectively called themselves Dagon. Apparently, the dudes were all the rage and everyone was more than shocked when they decided to sell their rare works to a small, no-name Southern California gallery instead of setting up in some ritzy place in New York. Joyce and her gallery were even in the LA times, and everyone was making a huge deal of it. Supposedly there was going to be a fancy, artsy Gallery Opening sometimes next month and, according to her mother, all the big shots in artists and collectors were going to be there.

"Oh Buffy," Joyce sighed, "I wish I could be there at the Gallery. The last shipment is coming in today and I wanted to see it in."

"No work for you," Buffy chastised lightly, "You're going to be relaxo-girl today while Buffy Summers takes care of you. It's a rare sight, rarer than some stuffy artsy paintings, so you can't miss it."

Joyce grinned, "Of course I can't. Thank you, honey."

"No problem."

"But oh I wish we could just go. There is this one collaborative, multimedia piece called 'Dawn' that is just divine, Buffy. It doesn't get that much attention, but in my opinion it one of their best works. I was thinking of buying it personally."

"Wow," Buffy said, trying to sound excited, "Must be great."

"You'll love it when you see it," Joyce said, smiling, "It's a warm and wonderful work."

"I'm sure, Mom," said Buffy, nodding, "But now, you rest while I…um…give you a foot rub?"

Joyce looked at her daughter suspiciously then. "Alright Buffy, you making me tea is all good, but foot rub goes into the realm of kissing up to mother. What's up?"

Buffy gave her mom an innocent smile, "Prom?"

"Oh, is that soon? I'm sorry Buffy, of course, you need to get a dress for prom."

"Yup. I saw this marvelous dress at Diane's Boutique the other day, you know, but it's a bit pricy so…"

"It's alright honey," said Joyce, smiling, "The money coming in from this event can allow me to indulge my only daughter on her Prom night."

Buffy's eye lit up, "Ooh yes! Now I love Czech artists!"

Joyce laughed. "Who are you going with? That Riley boy?"

Buffy's smiled faded a bit at the mention of Riley. "I suppose, I mean we're having problems, but I think we're still going together."

Joyce frowned. "Problems, honey?"

"Well, he's going to West Point, mom, and he wanted me to come to New York with him you know, go to NYU so we'll be closer. But I obviously don't want to do that—I want to go to Northwestern—and he said that perhaps I wasn't serious enough about our relationship. That's ridiculous, isn't it mom?"

"I agree with you Buffy," Joyce said, smiling at her daughter with a tint of pride, "He can't demand you go with him wherever he goes."

"Yeah," sighed Buffy, dejected, "I really liked him. He's so sweet, but he pulls something this ridiculous on me. And he's acting all insecure."

"Hm, why don't you talk to him more about it?"advised Joyce, "I'm sure he's just upset that distance will break you up. He really cares for you."

"Well, it seems that way," muttered Buffy, "But yeah, more talks in order with the boyfriend. We'll still be going together though, so I can dress all pretty."

"Right, well, Buffy, I'm going to take a nap. Why don't you go finish your homework and we can have a long chat about this later?"

She pecked Joyce on the cheeks. "Okay, mom, sleep tight."


The first thing Spike day when he arrived in Sunnydale again after spending three weeks in the clink was to buy a pack of smokes. The second thing he did was heading to the Bronze so he could indulge in a bottle of JD. When he walked in, the music was sultry and loud as usual and the clientele young and fresh. He liked Bronze for the nubile birds that came and showed off what puberty had bestowed upon them. Spike had a mind to pick one up tonight, needing some real satisfaction after too much time with his five little friends for the last three weeks.

He swaggered in, moving smoothly like a predator on the prowl, blues eyes scanning the dance floor like a hawk. He was liking what he saw, figuring that the high school senior girls were out celebrating their impending freedom from the hell that was the American Secondary Education system.

Spike circled the dance floor, putting out his smokes into a nearby trashcan, enjoying the sight. His eyes finally fell on a familiar sight, and boy what a sweet, familiar sight she was. He recognized her gorgeous little face, the golden hair, the cute, distinctive nose and those wide, innocent hazel green eyes—though he couldn't quite see her eyes so closely now.

The girl's body was small and almost kittenish, but was lean and shapely, and swayed to the music in a fashion just bordering on erotic and innocent. She wore a backless halter top that swayed, giving hints to what lay just beneath. He was sure she was making the boys around her go crazy—hell, he wanted to rip that flimsy piece of cloth off and explore, and he wasn't as close as those boys were.

She was a magnificent, sweet thing, he realized, accidentally seductive and alluringly innocent. She was one of those birds he wanted to both take to his bed and wrap up protectively from the world.

Mostly, he was absolutely enthralled by the way she rolled her eyes at him at the hospitable after she caught herself blushing. She was obviously a proud and tough little lady.

Spike, however, didn't make a move towards her. She was out of his reach and had no business in his business, and vice versa, he'd just admire from afar. For now, he needed to pick out a bimbo to satisfy his bodily needs just for the night.

Buffy, Willow and Anya finally tired of dancing after some half hour on the dance floor, and fought their way back to the table. Riley, Xander, Oz and, oddly, Cordelia, were waiting for them, chatting and eating hot wings.

"Hey honey," Buffy greeted Riley, give him a kiss on the cheek, "Ooh, wings."

"Why are you here, Cordelia?" Anya asked suspiciously. She obviously didn't like Xander and his ex sitting at the same table—plus, Anya was never one for tact. Because it was Cordy, no one at the table really cared to rein back Anya's hostilities, which were more comic than anything anyways.

"Harmony that whore left me to throw herself on a guy," Cordy grumbled, "Some freak with weird hair."

"That's nice Cordy," mumbled Xander, "But you're here because?"

"'Cause I also just dumped Gavin."

Buffy raised her brows at the cheerleader. "Really?"

"Yes, loser," Cordy mumbled angrily.

Gavin Warchester was the star football player on their rather average Sunnydale team. Still, he was eye candy, and that's all that mattered to Cordelia, well, until she dumped him.

"You can't have Xander," Anya warned, which was met with the simultaneous, 'I don't want him' and 'I don't want to be wanted.'

"Good," Anya said tersely, satisfied.

Afterwards, the conversation carried onto the subject of prom, prom dresses and life after college. The wings and drink kept coming, and Buffy was very much enjoying herself. A cute, older guy came to flirt for Cordy, and the two of them danced while the rest watched, poking general fun at their 'frenemy'. When Cordy and her new boy came back, she announced that she was leaving with him, smiling complacently, and left the table.

"Fast," Oz commented.

"You think she just didn't break up with her boyfriend of nearly a year," Xander said bitterly.

"Oh it's just Cordy," Willow smiled.

"Who forgot her purse," Buffy added, seeing the red and black purse Cordy left behind on the seat. She grabbed it, "I'm gonna catch up to her."

Buffy left, with her and Cordy's bags in hand, and headed towards the exit. She could see Cordelia just leaving the building on the arm of the new man. Cordy was nowhere in sight when Buffy finally made it outside, and Buffy walked for a bit, hoping to catch up. A muffled scream stopped her in her tracks, and she looked around, and saw a shadow just behind the back alley exit. Frowning, she decided to check it out.

Spike had thrown off the empty headed blonde bimbo off of him, deciding that as much as he wanted some tonight, he was sure he could handle her brainless twittering. The girl was a looker but she either needed to learn to shut up or get a real brain.

He headed towards the back alley exit.

Buffy rushed into the alley when she heard the scream get louder. It was girl's, and she crying and begging her attacker to stop. Buffy's stomach went cold at the thought of what might be happening. She reached into her bag and put her hands around her choice of weapon.

Buffy let out a sigh, and rushed into the opening. She saw a large brute of a man, obviously drunk, standing over a frightened woman, his hands ripping her shirt open. The woman was crying and a large purple and black bruise on one side of her face made Buffy's blood boil.

She hated things like this!

"Hey!" she shouted, running at him. Surprised, he turned around to face her as she came with her fist raised, and landed a strong punch right in the jaw. The man let out a howl of pain and staggered backwards, clutching his mouth.

"You bitch!"

Buffy put herself between the man and the woman in fighting stance.

"You're disgusting," she said, "Get out of here!"

The man took one look at Buffy and grinned. "I like the feisty ones better, anyways," he snarled, lunging towards her.

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Men," she growled, whipping out the can of mace from her bag and spraying it unapologetically in the eyes of the man. He staggered back, shouting bloody murder and rubbing his eyes.

"Tip for you jackass, rubbing makes it worse." She walked towards him and kicked him in the stomach, knocking him down to the floor. She stepped back and took out her phone and snapped a picture of him when he removed his hands from face long enough. "I'm calling the cops, creep, and it won't matter if you run, cause I gotta picture of you."

"Fuck you bitch," the man growled, blindly pushing himself off the color, "I'm gonna get you, you slut." He turned tail and ran, or at least attempted to; he hit trash cans and the wall on his way into the night, still clawing at his burning eyes.

Buff was surprised he could move that much at all, but he most likely pass out somewhere in the streets.

The call went through, and she quickly reported the incident.

Before Buffy could turn to the assess the woman, slow, purposeful clapping caught her attention. She whipped around, straining in the dark to see who was there.

"Nice job, luv," a familiar, British drawl came out from the dark. Buffy's eyes widened when the owner slid out from the shadows.

"Spike?" she said, before she could stop herself. The man in question grinned at her, looking her up and down.

"You remember."

"Hard to forget the man who was being arrested right in front of my eyes. Besides, your hair is weird."

He seemed affronted by that last comment. "I rather think most you birds like it."

Buffy scrunched her nose. "Birds? Whatever, if you were there all along, why didn't you help?"

"Oh I would have," Spike said earnestly, "But you came just a second before me, and you were doing, magnificently, pet. Love watching you. Didn't want to interrupt."

Buffy rolled her eyes. "Right. 'Cause letting a girl handle a drunk idiot three times her size is completely okay as long as you were enjoying the show."

"Letting a surprisingly able little girl handle a drunk idiot three times her size and watch her beat the shit outta him? Yeah, s'okay I reckon." Spike showed her that same roguish grin. The blue of his eyes were teasing.

"Whatever," Buffy muttered, and turned to the woman she just saved. "You alright?"

The woman was hugging the wall, eyes terrified. She nodded.

"You might want to rethink your choice in men," Buffy told her, and held up her can of mace, "And invest in one of these babies."

"Thank you," the woman whimpered. Buffy smiled sympathetically.

"You're welcome. Come on, let's get you home."

Buffy wrapped a protective arm around the woman, and looked back at Spike. He was still there, his head cocked slightly to the left, his lips curved in a faint, but amused smile, and his eyes curious and thoroughly enjoying the moment. Buffy noted the same black jeans and black shirt she had seen him in earlier, and that his white-blonde hair was showing his original color, and those blue eyes were as striking as ever. She couldn't deny he was a sight to look out, even with that hair, which, if she were being honest with herself, made him even more attractive. She had a thing for bad boys she didn't want to admit she had.

"You're useless," she told him, bitterly.

He laughed. "I think you're doing great by yourself, ducks. I'll see you around, little warrior." With that, he disappeared back into the shadows and into the club.

Buffy let out an irritated sigh. He really was bad news, unhelpful jerk!

Note: Yay, first chapter of first Spuffy AU done! :) Please leave comments and such! Thanks for reading!