shadowscast | New WIP: Before the Time of Dawn

Okay, it's been a while since I did any serious fic writing. I've been trying to get some non-fanfic writing done, among other things. But now I've come to the (convenient?) conclusion that putting off fanfic writing doesn't really increase my non-fanfic output, so I'm letting myself try out another WIP.

Anyway, tonight I decided "I love time-travel stories. I should write one!" And then I came up with an idea. So I had to start writing it. You know how it is, right?

This story fits in my Fragments 'verse; it happens after all the other posted stories in that 'verse. So, it's after "Late Night Porn Store Blues" and "How the Light Gets In," and even after "Human Frailty" (which is set later than the others, although it was written first). However, I intend to write this one so that you don't need to have read all the others to understand it; it's sufficient to know that it's set about a year post-NFA, and Xander and Spike work for the Watcher's Council and are lovers. Oh, and Spike's human (due to some still not fully explained Shanshu action).

It being a WIP, I'm not entirely sure where it will end up, but I think it will be different from the others in the Fragments series: funnier, less angsty, and quite possibly porn-free. This first chapter is about 1400 words.

By the way, it might be nice to have a beta reader. Any volunteers?

Cross-posted to

bloodclaim
Cross-posted to

spike_fics

Without further ado:

Before the Time of Dawn (part 1 of ?)

Spike stalked onto the stage, resplendent in his long black leather coat. The thud of his heavy boots on the wooden planks was the only sound in the room. A spotlight lit his scowling face in stark planes.

He stopped at an invisible mark at centre stage, spun on his heel to face his audience, crossed his arms and lifted his chin. In an almost accusing tone, he began, "You've heard that vampires are real." He waited—a soft rustle of whispered translations filled the dramatic pause. "You've heard that they're strong, that they drink blood, that they love to kill your kind." Another pause. "Maybe you've also heard that some of them are as liable to sit down with you for a cuppa tea as to fight you, that some of them hold down real jobs and pass in human society without ever harming a kitten, that some of them are bloody fantastic ... conversationalists." There was a nervous twitter of laughter in the audience, and Spike waited it out with a hint of an indulgent smirk. "It's all true. But know this." All traces of amusement left his face. "Every vampire is a demon. Every vampire dreams of ripping your throat open and gulping your hot, bitter blood until there's none left in you. Every vampire that walks this earth delights in murder, rape, and torture. I know this because I used to be one."

***

After the lecture, Xander caught up with Spike in the senior staff lounge.

Spike was stirring his coffee so violently it was in danger of splashing over the edge of his mug. "What did you think?" he asked as soon as he noticed Xander. "Did I overdo it?"

"Nah, it was great. They needed that. It's better than learning the hard way, right?" Xander gave Spike a quick kiss and took away his coffee spoon. "Calm down, okay? It's over, you were awesome—actually, you made three of them cry."

Spike snorted. "Was hoping for at least six." He took a gulp of coffee and casually straddled a wooden chair. "Bit different from anything I've done before, that's for sure. But I think I like this teaching gig. I'm considering making them call me Professor Smith. Sounds posh, don't it?"

Xander grinned. "I'm just wondering when you're going to get around to explaining Angel and Harmony."

"Oh, that's all set for the second lecture: Moral Ambiguity and the Post-Modern Slayer. Andrew made a Powerpoint."

"I cannot wait to see it." Xander glanced at his watch. "Oh, hey, speaking of Andrew, I saw him right before your class. He said Giles wanted to see us both in the conference room as soon as you were free."

"Right." Spike took another long gulp of coffee and then set his mug aside. "Did it sound like the world was about to end, or can we stop in the broom closet on the way?"

"Hey, if the world's about to end I insist on a broom closet break." Xander tugged on the lapels of Spike's coat to bring him close enough to kiss. "Impending apocalypses are big turn-ons for me. Did I ever tell you about my first time?"

They made it to the conference room fourteen minutes later, only slightly rumpled. Giles and Andrew were standing at the whiteboard, puzzling over a diagram with a lot of arrows in it. Dawn was sitting cross-legged on top of the big wooden table with a heavy old book open in her lap. "Hey guys," she greeted them. "How did Vampires 101 go?"

"Spike kicked ass," Xander said proudly. "Best class ever. Man I wish they'd offered that as an elective back at Sunnydale High."

"It would have come in handy," Andrew agreed.

Giles turned around, adjusting his glasses. "Funny you should mention Sunnydale High. In fact, you're going to have to go back there."

"A bit late for that, ain't it?" Spike said, sweeping his coat out of the way to sit down.

"Yes, indeed. I'll get to that." Giles glanced back at the whiteboard. "You see, there have been portents—"

"It's the end of the world," Andrew supplied helpfully.

Spike poked Xander in the ribs. "Told you so."

"You did not."

"When did that phrase stop being impressive?" Dawn asked, addressing nobody in particular. "Can anyone remember?"

"Familiarity breeds contempt," Spike said with a shrug.

Xander mock-punched Spike in the shoulder. "I sure hope you're not talking about our relationship."

"It's the end of the world," Giles said, rather more emphatically than Andrew had, "and we're six years too late to stop it."

Xander settled into the seat next to Spike's. "Well, that can't be good." Since the meeting lacked the panicked air of a true we're all about to die strategy session, Xander kicked his chair back and rested his feet against the table. "What're we going to do about it?"

Giles looked pained. He took his glasses off and pinched the bridge of his nose before finally saying, reluctantly, "You and Spike are going to travel back in time."

Andrew almost looked like he was going to start hopping up and down with excitement. "I got the idea from Star Trek: The Voyage Home. You know how they had to go back in time to get a whale? It's like that, only with a demon. See, there was a marathon on Space last night and I was thinking about our little apocalypse problem, and—"

"Thank you, Andrew," Giles cut him off. "Now, needless to say, this is going to be both a dangerous and delicate mission—"

"Wait, we can do that?" Xander stared at Giles and Andrew. "Since when can we do that? 'Cause, uh, I can think of a hell of a lot of things in our collective lives that might have gone better with a do-over."

Frowning, Giles put his glasses back on. "We do not propose to rewrite history. It would be appallingly unwise even to try. According to the top thinkers in magical temporal philosophy, any alteration in the timeline is bound to change it for the worse."

"Then why are we even talking about this?" Spike asked.

"We found a loophole," Andrew said.

Dawn nodded. "Me."

"We have come to believe that when the monks created Dawn, they projected her reality backwards," Giles explained. "Thus, even though Dawn did not exist as a human being six years ago, if you travel back in time six years you will find her there, just as you remember her."

"I had a childhood," Dawn said, grinning widely. "For real!"

"Because Dawn's life before the spell projects backwards rather than forwards," Giles continued, "changes in her timeline should not have any sort of deleterious effect."

Xander stared blankly at Giles for a moment, then turned to Dawn and Andrew. "Okay, could somebody maybe paraphrase that? Possibly with Star Trek references?"

"It's simple, really," Dawn assured him. "The point is that it doesn't matter if you change my history at any point in time before the monks do their spell, because when they do, everything gets reset. I won't remember anything that happened."

"In fact," Giles added, "we are reasonably certain that any events involving Dawn will be reset in all our memories, as well, when that spell is cast."

"Reasonably certain?" Spike repeated, raising his eyebrow.

"The important thing is that you don't make any changes that don't involve Dawn," Andrew said. "'Cause those wouldn't be overwritten by the monks' spell; they'd just be incorporated into it."

"And every change is a bad change," Dawn reminded them.

"Got it," Xander nodded. "I don't want to come back to a world where everyone has tentacles, let me tell you."

"Dunno," Spike said, pitching his voice so Xander and Dawn could hear but Giles couldn't, "Bet we could have a lot of fun with tentacles."

Dawn glared at him. "By the way, while you two are back there, I'll thank you to please not shatter my childhood innocence."

"What?" Spike asked, all wide-eyed innocence. "You'll forget it all anyway, won't you?"

"Yeah, but not for like a year and a half!"

Giles cleared his throat. "If you would please—we have a lot of details to go over."

"Speaking of which," Xander said, "exactly which part of my not-so-glorious past am I going to be reliving?"

Giles picked up a sheaf of handwritten notes from the table and quickly shuffled through them. "Do you remember the Sisterhood of Jhe?"

Spike's eyes went wide and he snuck a look at Xander. "Isn't that when you and Faith ...?" he asked in a voice somewhere between a whisper and a snort.

Xander let his feet thud to the floor. "Oh ... god."