BtVS by Whedon and Mutant Enemy. Written as a story prompt for Twisting the Hellmouth. Please check out chapter three of "Two Scoobies, Two Vamps, Reweaved in Time" aka Story-16771-3 at TtH Fanfic dot org for MayhemManaged's entertaining take on "How Spike Got His Nickname. (Maybe)"
Alexander Harris walked through the darkened streets to his friend's house, worried that he hadn't seen him in several days. Opening up the window, he climbed in.
"Hey, Eric, are you okay?"
"Other than that I have a third eye on the back of my head, you mean?"
"What? Let me see," Alexander said, grabbing his friend by the shoulders and spinning him around. "You're right. How did that happen?"
"Some highwayman with a weird sense of humor, I imagine. I've been afraid to leave the house since it happened."
"Right. Well, stay here. I'll run down to the corner and grab a broadsheet. It may be that there's a plague of some sort going around and there's a cure."
"If there's no sign of other victims?"
"Then we track down the man who did this to you and beat it out of him."
Alexander nodded and climbed out the window, completely unaware of the Skilosh demon that was hiding outside, tracking his movements.
Alexander returned to the front of Eric's house in time to hear the sound of his friend's head exploding.
Noticing movement in the shadows, Alexander froze, as a misshapen man walked forward to tap on Eric's bedroom window. Another creature, covered in fresh ichor, climbed out of the house and shook itself off, spraying blood and hair everywhere.
Smiling the two monsters walked off, hand in hand.
A peek inside the window at the Eric's remains and the smell alone was enough to show what had happened. Not wasting a moment, Alexander silently tracked the monsters to a building nearby, where they were greeted at the door by a third member of the monstrous race.
Expressionless, Alexander set off for his house in a deceptively calm manner.
Further out in the country, where the houses were less close together, Alexander walked to the shed where his father kept his tools, only to hear the noise of something rubbing against the far wall.
Frowning, he walked around the building only to see his father embracing a red-haired young woman who appeared to be Alexander's age. The kiss that followed tore a startled gasp from Alexander's throat.
With a yell, the father leaped towards his son, grabbed him by the hair and pounded blow after blow into his chest. Releasing him abruptly, he left his son to sprawl gasping in the dirt.
"Tell nothing of this to your mother," Mr. Harris said, smiling cruelly, alcohol fresh on his breath. "Or the pain you feel now will be nothing compared to what will come."
Coughing, Alexander walked around the corner, out of sight.
Mr. Harris frowned as he heard rattling in the shed, as if his son was searching for something, but he shortly heard footsteps running away into the night.
Smiling, Mr. Harris turned to the woman, the words 'Now, where were we?' forming on his lips even as she reached up with unusually strong hands and snapped his neck.
Given that Alexander had the element of surprise and that one was still weak from birth, he made short work of the three monsters.
Panting from the energy expended, Alexander rested the head of the ax upon the ground and was moving to sit when a powerful force took hold of his arms and caused him to swing the axe up and to the left.
The axe embedded itself in the chin of an unseen fourth demon and cleaved its head in two.
In shock, the young man let go of the handle, leaving his would-be assailant to topple to the floor in a heap.
Before Alexander could turn his head, what felt like invisible arms took him by the shoulders in a firm grip and spun him around towards the doorway.
Standing there was the red-haired woman he'd seen shortly before.
"There are other monsters out there, worse than these," she breathed, her green eyes sparkling. "I can give you the power to fight them, if you wish."
"Power like what you used to control me just now? Power like what you used to catch my dad's eye?"
"No," she laughed. "I make no such promises. Only the guarantee you will be strong and fast and - barring accident or ill intent from others, or your own willingness for it all to cease - never die. Also, I can only give you power, it's up to you how you use it."
"I'm in," he said.
They were the last words of his first life.
Smiling with genuine warmth, she moved in close to bite the young man's neck.
As she felt the life-blood flow into her, she heard the familiar steps of her sire approaching from behind.
Leaning in, the elder vampire wrapped his arms around both childe and victim as the evil sound of his laughter filled the night.
Buffy rushed headlong out of the library. She'd hoped moving to a less populated area would also mean leaving the supernatural behind, but not only had this new Watcher caught her off-guard, he'd come on much too strongly for her tastes.
Not looking where she was going, she knocked a boy standing next to the doors off his feet.
"I'm so sorry," she said, helping him up. She noticed as she did so that he was about her age and fairly cute. "It's my first day and -"
"No worries. I only arrived this month myself. It's my own fault, I shouldn't have been listening in, in the first place."
"You mean - why were you doing that?"
"Well, he is my da, and all -"
"AGH!" Buffy yelled, planting her hand in his chest and pushing him to arm's length. "I can't take it! Your dad's here to 'train' me, but I can't protect him. I lost Merrick because I can't be everywhere at once. Now I have to protect my Watcher's family too? I don't want to fight vampires, so you don't need to be here! Why can't you just go someplace safe and leave me alone?" She ended her words with a glare and stormed off.
"What a beautiful creature," the British teen muttered. "I'll write a poem about her."
"That'd be nice, William," came his father's voice from behind him. "But if you do, could you please do it without that ridiculous working class accent you've been affecting?"
"What does it matter anymore? I like how it sounds and it's not going to reflect poorly on you here because it's not as if the bloody yanks can tell the difference!"