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Summary:
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by
Someone (some*thing*?) had broken into Spike's crypt and smashed his telly in the midst of looking for the bleached blonde vampire. Spike, being a bloodthirsty soulless demon who was *totally* addicted to the soap-opera "Passions" had then stomped across town, muttering and cursing the entire way until he reached Xander's basement apartment. He then spent several hours doing his best to frustrate and annoy the whelp until his beloved show came on the telly, at which point he planned to ignore the boy. So that was how he came to be there when the witches rang up the walking-talking demon bait on the phone.
He watched, mildly curious, as Xander threw one last glare at him and then stomped over to pick up the jangling phone. His exasperated "What?" was soon followed by a softening of his features and a slight smile peaking at the corners of his mouth.
"Oh, hey Wills. No, no. I'm not mad at *you*. The blonde fangless wonder stopped by and..."
The whelp gave a small quiet giggle at whatever the witch had said and Spike felt his curiosity rise up. Willow was one of the few mortals he could even *begin* to like. She treated him good, was really smart and she blushed so wonderfully at the things he said. He shuffled over to where Xander sat talking to her.
"Hey. What's up with Red? She's not planning on going out and patrolling is she?"
Xander shifted away from him slightly and made shooing gestures. Spike rolled his eyes and forcibly reminded himself that if he gave in to his first impulse and tore the whelp's throat out then the thrice damned chip in his head would send him to his knees with a blinding skull-ripping migraine. Xander may well be an irritating little shit, but he wasn't worth *that* kind of suffering. Not even *Riley* was worth that pain.
Spike was finally pulled from his daydreams of random violence and gratuitous slaughter by Xander's indignant squeak.
"What? No! I'm *not* going to bring Spike with me. Are you nutz? The guy's a walkin' time-bomb. That chip of his could short-circuit any minute now and..."
Spike grinned. Xander was one of the very few who never forgot that little fact. His continued fear of Spike was his only redeeming quality in the vampire's studied opinion. Well, that and his nice new shiny telly, that is.
"Fine. Fine. But, I'm doing this under protest here. I just want you to know that. I'll come over to help with that spell, but if Deadboy Jr gets all bitey on everyone than I *don't* want to be held responsible. Got that?"
Spike watched with a smirk as Xander hung up the phone and glared at him sullenly. The whelp was about five seconds away from having a major pout and Spike was forced to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing in the boys face.
Well? What did the witch say?"
Xander growled low in his throat. He was totally incomprehensible.
"What was that again mate? I didn't quite catch it the first time 'round."
Xander's glare turned up a few notches. If looks could kill, Spike was sure he'd be nothing more than a billowing cloud of ash at that point.
"She *said* that she baked you some damned *cookies* and that I'm supposed to take you over there to pick them up. *Then* she wants me to help with some spell she's been working on."
"Cookies, huh?"
Xander growled again and stomped away towards the back door of his basement. Spike's smirk threatened to split his handsome pale face in half as he followed behind.
********
Spike leaned back on the witch's bed in her dorm room and watched as she, Xander and Tara set up the spell. Reaching off to the side, he grabbed another sugar cookie, dipped it into his mug of warmed pig's blood and popped it into his mouth.
Ever since Red had found out that her grandmother had been adopted at the age of two by her great-grandmother's best friend after a fire had killed all but the infant, Willow had been driven to track down her roots. She wanted to find out about the family she was linked to through blood. Apparently, researching them through normal means wasn't enough for the red-headed witch. She wanted to *see* them. So... her girlfriend Tara had found this spell. It was supposed to open up a small gateway through time-space inside of the large round mirror that they had gotten for this very purpose. Once that gateway was open, they should be able to see and hear everything happening on the other side.
Grabbing another cookie, Spike watched as the two witches began to chant while they directed Xander to burn certain herbs over an open flame. Spike still hadn't figured out *why* they had needed the whelp to help them when the girls brought out a small rabbit from a cage. His one eyebrow shot up towards his hairline at that. He'd *never* thought that *either* girl would ever resort to blood magic, but it *did* explain why they wanted Xander there. They expected *him* to do the dirty work.
He smirked. Perhaps this was the result of his own bad influence on the Scooby Gang. At least, he hoped it was.
They were halfway through the spell when Spike began to feel that little tingling feeling down his spine that usually signaled that things were about to go horribly, utterly wrong. He'd felt it when he'd first met Angelus back when he was still human. He'd felt it as soon as he'd set foot in Prague with Dru and he'd felt it as soon as he'd found himself surrounded by the Initiative's soldiers. Now, he was feeling it again. Something was going wrong with Red's spell. But what?
He watched with a sinking feeling in his guts as the whelp sliced into the small rabbit and the first drops of blood began to spill. Suddenly, the large round mirror that was the focus of the spell began to glow. A deep blood red mist with streaks of darkest black began to swirl around and around in it's flat surface. It raced faster and faster until, with a flash of light and the sound of an iron bell being struck, it cleared.
They all gasped as they turned to look into the, now open, portal. They were gazing into a large room made of dark grey stone. The decor was lush and ripe in a dark and morbid way that spoke loudly of arrogant corruption and deeply buried pain. Heavy tapestries and sharply bladed weapons graced the walls. A strip of thick blood red carpeting led the way to a huge black obsidian throne that was generously adorned with sparkling gems and jewels. An ornate metal stand stood beside the throne and at the apex of it was situated three human skulls. On top of each skull there burned a black candle which threw dancing patterns of light across the room.
But that was not what had *truly* captured the attention of Spike and the three mortals. It was the two occupants of the room that deserved their undivided attention.
The man who sat upon the throne wore midnight armor and a red-lined black cape. His dark blonde hair held a heavy crown of gold and jewels. His bearing was arrogant and regal and his dark eyes held such a vast quantity of pain that even Angel's angst could not hope to compete with it. The other, younger man was dressed in black leather adorned with buckles and pins and bits of metal. He had raven dark hair and pale pale skin. His eyes held the glint and flash of madness within them.
But the most striking thing about them both was that they had turned to look at the portal and were now staring *back*. Red had *promised* that the people on the other side of the portal would *not* know that they were watching. But these two *did* know. Then the younger one spoke.
"Hey Unc Hades. Wha's'up wit da swirlin' portal thing-a-ma-bob? I mean, I *know* that Unc Ares is due ta petition ya for my life back again, but... this just ain't his style. Ya know?"
The man on the throne raised up one elegant eyebrow.
"Indeed. Let's find out, shall we?"
Then, to the horror of the two witches who began to frantically try and disrupt the spell, the dark brooding man on the throne reached out with one hand and made a graceful gesture. The hair on the back of Spike's neck raised up on end and he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Xander leaned towards the glowing mirror and then stumbling forward a step or two.
The two men beyond the portal exchanged silent glances and the younger one shrugged. Then they *both* reached out and made the same gesture in the air. Spike's entire body quivered this time and Xander shook and trembled as he was drawn irresistibly to the portal in the mirror. Spike watched in fascination as the whelp raised one hand to brace himself and it slid *through* the open portal.
"Xander! NO!"
The high pitched panicked squeal of the witch jolted him out of his stunned stare. With a shrug and a mental note to see someone about his obvious deathwish, Spike leaped forward and grabbed hold of Xander around the waist to try and pull him back. Unfortunately, the two men on the other side of the portal had the same idea. They had both latched onto Xander's hand and arm and were dragging him through the mirror slowly but surely.
Spike tightened his hold on the boy as he slid further into the dark room beyond the mirror. Just as Xander's head made it to the other side, the man with the crown touched his forehead and whispered "Relax." in the softest and most honeyed tones that the blonde vampire had ever heard. Suddenly, all of the tension in Xander's body went completely slack and the boy stopped fighting the pull of the two men, leaving Spike to do all the work.
"Oh Bloody Hell!"
With one last yank from the two in the mirror, Spike and Xander both went flying through it to land in a tumbled heap with the younger man wearing the black leather. The older man in the metal armor had merely stepped aside and watched them fall.
Spike scrambled to his feet as fast as he could, grabbed up the whelp and tossed him limply over his shoulder and then made to dive back through the portal... only to watch in horror as it closed up into nothingness.
With a resigned sigh that could easily be translated into "dammit all to hell", Spike turned back around to face the two strangers and tried out his best "I'm a nice harmless bloke and not a bloodthirsty soulless demon who wants to eat you up" smile.
"So, um... I'm Spike and this idiot you put the whammie on is Xander. And who might you be?"
The dark haired lunatic giggled and Spike lost all his illusions that maybe the guy wasn't as nutz-o as he'd first thought.
"Me? I'm dead. Ya can call me Strife though."
Spike grinned and lifted up his scared eyebrow.
"That's one hell of a coincidence, 'cause I'm dead too."
The maniac in black leather giggled again and pulled a dagger out of thin air and began to twirl it around on his palm. Spike clutched Xander a little tighter to him.
"Hey! Watch it with the sharp pointy toys mate. *I* may be a walking corpse, but the whelp here is *alive* and *I'm* the only one as allowed to remedy that problem."
Then the older man, the one with the crown on his head stepped closer and made another of those graceful gestures. A large wooden table filled with various foods and drinks appeared suddenly in the middle of the room.
"Forgive my nephew his lack of manners. I blame it all on Ares. Please. Sit down and dine with us. My name is Hades, Lord of the Dead. Welcome to Asphodel."
******
Ares, God of War and Violence grabbed tight hold of his two offerings by their respective throats and then reached out with his power to twist the fabric of the time-space continuum. He felt the surge of energy rush up his spine and then out of his body into the ether with an almost sensual sigh of pleasure. He *loved* travelling that way, it was always sooo... erotic.
The two mortals with him, however, didn't seem to feel the same way about it. The one on his left was swaying on his wobbly knees and Ares knew he'd crash to the ground if he let go of the unfortunate man's neck. The one on his right had turned a gruesome shade of green and it appeared as if his lunch wanted to return to the light of day. Ares grinned wickedly and ignored both of their suffering.
He had more important things to do.
Glancing around the dimly lighted room quickly, the War God spotted his Uncle Hades and his favorite nephew Strife sitting at a table with two men. The table was laden with food and the four of them seemed to be deeply involved in discussion. Clearing his throat loudly enough to capture everyone's attention, Ares strode over to the banquet with his two sacrifices in tow. All eyes turned to face him. The two strangers, one dark and one light, merely seemed a mixture of confused and frustrated. His uncle was as calm and stoic as ever. And Strife... Ares grinned. His insane nephew was amused... as always.
"Hey Unc! S'good ta see ya. Oooo look-it! Presents! Um... hey Unc Ares? Why are they still... ah... *alive*?"
At *that* announcement, the wobbly kneed man fainted. He hung limply in Ares grasp. Ares rolled his dark eyes and Strife giggled and covered a whispered "Oops!" with one hand. The blonde stranger laughed out loud, obviously enjoying the two mortal's torment as well as the Mischief God's morbid sense of humor.
Not wanting to waste any more time, Ares thrust the two mortals towards the King of Asphodel while still holding them tightly around their throats.
"For you Hades. In exchange for Strife. You give me back my First Lieutenant, *alive*, and I'll give you these two."
Ares thrust his chin at the mortal on the left.
"This one... ah, I forget his name, but anyway... he's the head scribe for Queen Lacuna. Not just copying letters, he can actually *read* them. Greek, Latin and even some Egyptian. You could get a lot of use out of this one with your paperwork."
Ares thrust his chin out at the other mortal.
"This one spent most of his adult life working on a slave galley as the drummer or as the whip-handler. I'm sure you could find use for him somewhere in the Pits of Tartarus. Granted, he's not up to *Strife's* skill level at torture, but then again... few are. There's only three of us that fit that description actually, and two of them are in this room... Oh... that reminds me..."
Ares turned to look at the dead God of Mischief and flashed a wicked smirk.
"Your mom says hi."
Strife blanched and shivered in disgust.
"Wonderful. Tell her sleaziness I said hi back... An' do it wit' a brandin' iron, if ya could."
Ares chuckled and the blonde stranger looked fascinated by the banter. With a scared eyebrow arched up high, he turned his blue eyes on Strife.
"I take it you don't get along with your mum too well?"
Strife rolled his silvery eyes and made a rude face that made Ares chuckle. Then the dead God grinned back at the blonde.
"Who Discord? She's a skanky ho."
Strife turned back to Ares, his grin just as wide as ever and his icy eyes sparkling with mischief.
"An' ya can tell her I said *that* too."
Ares was going to comment further when Hades banged his goblet on the table lightly, instantly riveting everyone's attention on him. The pale and morose God of the Dead sighed and waved a graceful hand at Ares and gestured to an ornate chair that materialized out of thin air. Ares dropped the two mortals on the ground, bent down to glare at them and growled in his most threatening tone of voice.
"Stay!"
The two miserable and shivering men sufficiently cowed, Ares stood back up and walked over to sit at the right hand of his favorite Uncle and occasional co-worker. He raised up one sculpted raven eyebrow and made a 'well... spill it already' type of gesture with his broad hand. Hades merely sighed.
"Ares... I'm *not* releasing Strife from my realm."
The dark God held up one hand to stall Ares' instantaneous sputtering protests.
"First of all, why would I except those two mortals as an acceptable replacement for a *God* when all I'd have to do is wait a few decades and get them *anyway*?"
Hades shifted and looked over with a serious expression on his sad face.
"I'm not a cruel or greedy man. I understand that you want Strife back. I am well aware that Discord doesn't fill his role as your First Lieutenant even *half* as well. I know all of that and more. Furthermore, I'll be willing to return the Mischief God's life when, and *only* when, you present me with something that is *worth* his loss to me. YOU of all the Gods of Olympus are aware of his value, you have *never* underestimated him. You're a smart guy Ares, and you have the courage to do what must be done. I have faith in you to solve this... mystery."
Hades shared a secretive smile with Strife and Ares ground his teeth together. He had the sudden urge to tear the two worthless mortals he'd brought with him into tiny quivering chunks. If nothing else, it would sooth his nerves. Then, Ares was effectively pulled from his morbid and violent thoughts by the oddly hollow sound of his uncles voice speaking once again.
"Now that you are here, however, perhaps you might be able to help us piece together a different puzzle all together."
Hades gestured to the two strangers sitting on the opposite side of the table from him. The War God turned his dark unfathomable gaze on the two and studied them for a moment.
"A bacchae and a mortal? What's to know?"
The blonde rolled bright blue eyes and sighed in exasperation.
"I'm *not* a bloody bacchae, whatever the hell *that* is. I'm a *demon*, a thrice damned *vam-pi-re*! What's with you blokes?You want me to go all Grr to prove it?"
Strife smirked at the blonde, gesturing him to do whatever it was he had threatened to do. The dark haired mortal's face held a long suffering expression on it. He had slumped down in his chair and was listlessly playing with a plate full of food that he couldn't eat. Glancing over at his blonde companion, he merely glanced up at the ceiling and sighed in exasperation.
Then the blonde's face... shifted.
His brow crinkled up into ridges and his well defined cheekbones became rather sharp edged. His blue eyes turned a bright golden yellow that seemed to capture all the surrounding light and his teeth... *elongated* into a set of nasty looking and deadly sharp fangs. Ares was delighted at the display. The potential for bloody violence was obvious. The mortal sitting next to the bacc... um, vampire didn't even blink. Instead, he rammed an elbow into the blonde's ribs.
"Spike? Not impressed. Wanna impress me? Get. Us. Home."
The blonde, Spike(?), turned in his chair and snapped his razor-edged teeth in the boy's face and then suddenly crumpled up, clutched his head with both hands and howled out a note of pure pain followed by a string of vicious curses. The mortal boy smirked and offered mock sympathy.
"Aww... what's a matter Spike? Headache? You should know better than to try and bite humans."
The blonde snarled again and made an aborted move at the boy before clutching his head again. Ares watched the scene, confusion washing over him. He was not in the mood for watching the two strangers argue however. He was pissed off about Hades refusal to release Strife from the Underworld and he was annoyed with Eris's bumbling and... as much as he hated to admit it, he missed his nephew. Both in and out of the bedroom. Wishing to cut the harsh banter short, Ares turned to look at the God of the Dead and gestured to the mortal and the vampire.
"So... what *is* their story anyway? And just *what* is a... vampire?"
Ares ignored the indignant snort from the blonde and focused on Hades.
"Well, the truth of the matter is quite simple actually. Those two arrived here in the Palace through a time-space portal. They are originally from the future. Several millennia in the future. Apparently a friend of their's cast a spell that would allow her to see into the past so that she could learn more about her ancestors. However, when the portal opened, the magicks were clearly focused on that mortal boy right there."
Ares turned his head to see where Hades was pointing. The dark haired mortal frowned at them with an expression that conveyed utter frustration.
"That's what I don't get. Why *me*? Why am *I* always the demon bait? It was *supposed* to be about Willow? And why *here*? I mean, if the spell was to find ancestors, why did the portal open here? This isn't even *Earth*. I can't even eat the damn *food*!"
"The spell probably focused on you because *you're* the one as spilled the blood mate. As for why here, you probably have a few dead relatives roasting in the burning pits of Tartarus. Drunkards who beat their wives senseless, no doubt."
"Shut *up* Spike. No one cares to hear your theories. And leave my father out of this."
Ares gritted his teeth and was about to tell them *both* to shut up when Hades spoke.
"Actually, Spike's most likely right. If the spell called for the spilling of innocent blood and you were the one to perform that act, then you would have the most intimate tie to the magick. He's also right about you most likely having an ancestor here who has a direct bloodline to you."
The boy's face twisted up in thought.
"Oh... But who? I mean, *how* do we figure out who this guy is? And will that end the spell and send me and Spike back to the Hellmouth?"
The blonde snorted and shot his companion a dark look of mild contempt.
"Bloody hell Xander, the spell *is* over. It ended the second the portal *closed*. We're stuck here whether we find your long lost drunk or not. Lighten up. After all, *you've* just got to worry about not being about to eat any of the food here since your still alive and it's all dead. *I* have to put up with that bloody chip in me skull. I *think* we all know who has the worst of this deal."
The boy glared at the vampire.
"You really *do* want to be staked, don't you? 'Cause let me tell you buddy, I'd be more than happy to shove one right through your heart for you."
Still not in the mood to listen to the two time travelers argue, Ares waved one large hand through the air. Instantly, silence fell as both the mortal and the vampire found their mouth's gagged. Strife took one look at them trying to remove them and began to giggle madly again while pointing at them. Ares turned his scowl towards the dead God.
"Be quiet or I'll gag *you* too."
The Mischief God's expression turned sweet and his icy eyes opened up big and round in false innocence.
"Ya promise?"
Unable to resist, Ares flashed a half grin and then turned back to his uncle.
"Where did this portal thing open up?"
Hades merely turned and pointed to a spot in the air near his throne.
"And who was here when it opened?"
Hades gave an eloquent shrug of his broad shoulders.
"It was just myself and Strife. Why?"
Ares leaned back in his chair with a self-satisfied smile and gestured broadly with both hands.
"That solves it then. The portal was set to open at an ancestor, right? Well, it has to be one of you two then."
Hades shook his head at that and looked infinitely sad.
"It can't be me then. I'm the God of the Dead. Mortal women can't carry my seed. Only Gods or Goddesses can. The only logical choice would be Strife."
The dark haired dead God's face grew doubtful and he shook his head slightly.
"I don' know. I never fathered a lot a half-breeds. Six to be exact."
Ares shrugged and smirked at his nephew. He was thoroughly enjoying his nephews discomfort at the thought of being related to the dark- haired and mean tempered time-traveler.
"It only takes one mortal child and a bit of luck. Next thing you know, descendents from the future are popping in to say hello."
Strife turned to study the dark haired mortal that was most likely a descendent of his. Ares ignored them and turned back to Hades.
"So... now, what's a vampire? And what's this thing I heard about a... chip?"
******
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