Work Text:
Spike was used to the dim lights that illuminated the bars he went to. He was used to the dark figures lurking in the corners. Preying on other customers, looking for trouble and itching for a fight, sometimes waiting, sometimes trying to forget their troubles by getting blackout drunk. He was used to demons, vampires, even the occasional human straying into the underground clubs. And he wished he could say seeing a hunter around wasn't a normal occurrence.
Even more, he wished that for once in his life he would be smart and just stay the hell away.
The tall man at the corner table had been nursing a whiskey bottle for the last hour or so. It was almost empty. In the whole time he'd been here, he hadn't looked up Even once, holding his head bowed, strands of long-ish hair falling into his face and covering his eyes. Spike could tell that he was properly sloshed as it was, and would probably not pose a deadly threat even if it came to a fight. Still, the guy was huge, definitely trained as a hunter, and would not be easy to take down. And who was Spike to turn down a challenge? He hadn’t had a good brawl for quite a while.
The vampire emptied his glass, then slinked over to the tall guy’s table.
He plopped down in a chair, his back turned to the room, facing the hunter. The hunter lifted his head, frowning at Spike, who was now sprawled in the chair, a shit eating grin on his face.
“You looked like you needed some company mate,” he said.
The hunter simply grunted and looked away again.
Spike scoffed. “So what? You too good to talk to a vampire? Is that it?”
Again, the hunter looked up more calculating this time. Spike rolled his eyes.
“Now, don't act like you don't know what kind of establishment you're in. You're a hunter. I can smell that three miles away. The question is, what are you doing in a place like this?”
The hunter set down his bottle and looked more closely at the vampire in front of him, examining him. “I'm looking for someone.”
His voice was raspy, as though his throat was sore. Which, considering the amount of alcohol he’d just downed, wasn't that unlikely.
“Well, as long as that someone is not me,” Spike said, “I might just be able to help you out.”
The hunter eyed him warily. “I'm looking for a demon. A crossroads demon.”
Spike laughed. “Well, there's a thing you don't hear every day.”
“It’s important,” the hunter insisted. “There’s a deal I need to undo.”
The vampire shrugged. “Didn’t hear anything about a crossroads demon.” He looked sly. “Though I might know some people in deeper circles who might know one thing or the other.”
The hunter raised his eyebrows. He sounded sort of defeated. “I'm taking that as you're not one of the ‘guys in deeper circles’. What, you not interested in the big fish? You pretending to be a good guy because you only kill when you need to?” He snorted.
Spike laughed. “Coming from the guy hanging out here with us?”
“Who knows something?”
“Cutting to the chase right away, eh?” Spike crossed his arms and stuck out his chin. “What am I getting out of it?”
The hunter’s eyes darkened. “Your head stays on for now.”
Spike chuckled. “Well, see, as tempting as that is, you can’t ask me for information when I’m dust, so there’s that.”
“You’ll wish you’d talked.”
Spike didn’t think the threat was empty, but he also didn’t peg the guy as the kind to overestimate himself. He knew he was drunk. And he also seemed a little bit desperate. Desperate was good. Desperate Spike could work with.
“What, goody good guy torturing some poor sod because he asked for payment?”
“Who's to say I'm good?”
Spike smirked. “Well, you're clearly human. And a hunter at that.”
“And you know what hunters do?” He slammed down his hand on the table, and spike flinched slightly, followed by a grin spreading on his face as the hunter grabbed him by his lapels. “We kill monsters like you. So, you better give me all the information I need.”
Spike stuck out his tongue and snickered. “See, knew you had it in you.”
A fist struck him in the face, and Spike laughed.
Three more punches hit him, before he caught the hunter’s wrist. He darted out his tongue and licked at his blood-stained lip.
“As fun as this is,” he said with a grin, “We should probably take it out back. ‘less we want to stir up the peace around here.”
The hunter hesitated and Spike knew that flash of consideration. That should I or should I not? That wanting it, that needing the fight. But not being sure whether you wanted to give in to the temptation. Spike had seen that hesitation a lot. Whenever he’d started a fight, he’d seen it. The short moment where you could decide to be a good person and walk away.
He’d seen it with Buffy, before he got his soul. Every time they’d been about to fuck, he’d seen it. And every time he’d encouraged the wrong decision.
Even with a soul, he wasn’t one to just let people make the right decision. So, he pushed the hunter off him, and swung at him in turn.
The tall man spun into the wall, and Spike felt powerful. He grabbed him by the shoulder and stirred him toward the back exit, and, not surprisingly, the hunter wasn’t protesting.
The cool night air mixed with the buzz of alcohol and Spike was exhilarated. He shoved the hunter forward enough to make him stumble a few steps, then waited for him to turn around. He left him the first move.
The hunter launched at him, staggering, still, from the booze and the blow to the face, his movements uncontrolled, but no less powerful. He landed a few good punches, before Spike managed to duck away and send a fist into his ribs.
The hunter doubled over and wheezed, but before Spike could deliver a second blow, the hunter grabbed him and threw him into the close wall of the club.
Spike might have superhuman strength, but that didn’t mean he was superhumanly heavy. And the hunter was huge. He had a good 8 inches on him, and he was built. This was ought to be fun.
Spike pushed himself off the wall, and advanced on the hunter, who went back to fighting stance, chest heaving.
Hot, Spike thought, before he threw a kick at the hunter’s midsection. The hunter blocked it, and Spike took a fast step forward to get in punching range. He threw a blow at the hunter’s face, which he blocked with his shoulder, and retaliated by grabbing him and clocking him in the face with his elbow. Once, twice, again and again. Spike ducked, grabbed him in turn, tightened his stance and threw him over his shoulder.
He could see the air leave the hunter’s lungs as he wheezed on the ground, trying to sit up. He didn’t seem dizzy in the least. Good, Spike thought, the bugger knows how to tuck his head. And he was on him within a second, throwing punches, that turned the hunter’s head to the side, but never caused it to hit the ground.
He saw blood on his hands, and laughed, scrambling off the hunter. He stood over him, and the hunter lay groaning on the ground. Spike licked at his bloody knuckles and the hunter looked at him in disgust. Spike thought he caught some intrigue in his eyes as well. “You’re sick.”
Spike shrugged. “Vampire.”
He offered the hunter his other hand, and the man grabbed it, then let himself fall backwards, bringing his feet up under Spike and throwing him over.
The hunter got up just as quickly as Spike did, and they were facing off again. Circling each other slowly, Spike had a wide grin on his face, and the hunter at least didn’t look all gloomy anymore.
Spike lunged forward first, and they started trading blows. Their reaction time was on par, and the hunter’s height made up for Spike’s strength and after both of them had landed a few sloppy hits, they started to figure each other out. What had been a brawl turned into almost a dance. A violent, brutal, bloody dance. But it was beautiful in its own way.
Almost all punches were blocked, all kicks evaded, and they just kept going and kept going. Spike was sure his arms would have bruises all over tomorrow. He hoped they would. He didn’t get enough fights, and especially not ones with an equally matched fighter. Not since Buffy.
Looking at his dance partner, Spike thought he was seeing the same emotion in his eyes. And he grinned and redoubled his strength. There was no time for brooding. Now they were fighting. Now they were dancing. And that was all that mattered.
Spike broke the rhythm they’d come into, and Sam moved with him. Stronger, faster, harder. Stronger, faster, harder!
As they sped up, their brains started to struggle to keep up with their movements. Their reaction times started to be too slow. Spike relished in the hard fist that struck his jaw. He loved the tiny grunts that his opponent let out whenever he got him on the eye socket. He loved the steadily building pain everywhere in his body.
And he felt so alive for the first time in an eternity.
A blow to his cheek made his head snap to the side. He traded that for a backhanded punch against the hunter’s nose. He gripped at his face for a second, then came back with even more determination.
He landed several hard punches to Spike’s sternum, then brought up a hand and gripped Spike in a tight chokehold. He slammed him up against a wall, his feet dangling in the air. And Spike cackled, as much as he could with the strong hand gripping his throat.
“Alright you win,” he said, and the hunter punched him in the face again. Spike’s head cracked back against the wall.
“Who knows something about the demon,” he spat and Spike’s grin grew.
“Do that again,” Spike said, and sure enough pain bloomed in his nose and his head cracked against the wall once more. He groaned in pain, then the groan turned into a chuckle. “I don’t know,” he said.
The hunter’s hand closed around his throat tightly. “Liar,” he growled dangerously, his voice shaking just a bit with desperation and helplessness.
“I don’t know,” Spike croaked out, and the hunter’s free hand fisted his hair and slammed his head back against the wall harshly.
“Tell me, or I’ll crack your fucking skull.”
Spike grinned widely, his throat too constrained to laugh. “That’s my boy.”
And the hunter slammed his head into the wall once more, then let go of him and Spike sagged to the ground, his laughter echoing back from the alley walls. The hunter crouched down before him.
“Who,” he repeated.
Spike brought up his hand to his throat and kept wheezing out a laugh.
The hunter backhanded him across the face, roughly, then grabbed his lapels. “You got what you wanted, now tell me,” he yelled.
Spike finally gave in. “If anyone knows anything about hell’s demons, it’s D’Hoffryn. He’s this sort of evil demon king, yeah? Doesn’t necessarily hang out with hell demons much, but he has access to other dimensions.”
The hunter nodded, then slammed him against the wall one more time before he let him go.
Spike watched him get up and turn away. “So, you’re not even giving me a ‘thank you’ then,” he called after him.
The hunter turned back and glowered at him. “You got what you deserve.” And he turned again and walked into the night.
Spike groaned and slowly staggered to his feet. Everything hurt. He smiled. Sure enough, he thought, he did get what he was looking for.