Title: White Hair, Red Blood, Black Memories

Summary: The Slayer remembers Spike. Spike remembers the Slayer. Part 2 of the Falling Verse

Characters: Spike, Mary (OFC), Dean, Lisa, Ben, Castiel

Rating: PG

Disclaimer: Not mine, just playing

Author Note: Having some writer's block, decided to throw out a unlinear story from the Falling Verse (Supernatural/Buffyverse crossover) to get the juices flowing again.


"Ow.. Jesu..ow..." Mary opened her hazel eyes for a moment before squeezing them tight with a wince as pain flared all over her body, like stabbing red hot pins and needles. She let out some fluid curses in several languages before she went limp and blacked out.


A scream.

The horrified scream.

The gurgling scream.

The overwrought-with-pain scream.

The surprised scream.

It was always the dead silence after the final scream that woke her up as a child.


Mary opened her eyes, this time blinking away the fuzziness.

She stretched her body out, trying to gauge her current condition. She curled dirt under her fingers, her cheek was pressed against the ground, something sharp was jabbing her in the chest and she felt something wet against her stomach. Praying that it was blood, not hers mind you, she shifted her hips and felt something scratch her knees before she pulled her feet up to the side, her toes wiggling in their shoes.

Satisfied that she had all her body parts, she let out a deep breathe before rolling over to her back with a huffing groan. Her body was heavy, lethargic and oh so weak but she could still move if a bit slowly. She blinked a few times to clear her fuzzy vision before looking around her.

The sky was dark but there was a full moon and the stars were out, shining brightly as if what just happened didn't matter. And it was true, stars didn't care because they were already dead but it mattered to her and that is what counted. She cared. So did...

"Spike?" she croaked out, spotting the bleach blonde vampire laying face down not far from her. "Spike!" she coughed, her throat hoarse and dry. After the coughing fit passed, she worked up the effort to roll over again, put her hands under her and with a hefty groan pushed herself up to her hands and knees. Taking a break to catch her breath and build up some strength she started to make her way to her friend.

Spike is important to her. Very important. In all her life, she never had anyone who she held as close to her heart like her family but him. Well she had the angel but he was on a whole different level than everyone else. She expected more but Spike?

Spike was a vampire. A demon. A creature of the night that drank blood to survive. She didn't expect anything from him because of what he is. It was kinda cruel to think of him like that after all they've been through but she couldn't fight against an instinct that had been passed down for hundreds of years through girls that had fought and died against creatures like him. Or the two girls who had died by his hands.


A plead for forgiveness from her mother.

"Sorry luv, I don't speak Chinese."

A snap of her neck.

"Every Slayer has a death wish."

All ended by this monster with feral yellow eyes and sharp, sharp teeth.

Hidden under a facade of bright blue eyes, charming smile and a dark silky voice.


But Spike was part of her life, part of her inner circle, one part of her trinity that she needed to keep alive and to keep fighting. He's been with her almost from the beginning and she couldn't lose him now. Not now. She loved him. She trusted him. She needed him.

"Spike."

She reached his side and ran her fingers through the loose curls that broke free from the gel that normally held them back. He hated his curls with a vengeance because they reminded him of his earlier days as a vampire and a human. Of someone who was weak and innocent...who put his trust in the wrong people and paid the price for that trust with his heart.

But she loved his curls. They made him more human, she thought, of someone who didn't need to put up a front when with her. Of someone who can bare his soul and heart without worrying about being hurt or used. Spike could be himself with her and she was glad.

"Spike...please?" she pleaded, dropping to lay next to him. "Please."

He didn't respond and show no signs of life. On any normal person, this would have twisted her insides in dread but Spike was a vampire. Nothing could kill a vampire except a stake through the heart, beheading or fire. They turned to dust and ash; leaving nothing behind. Spike was still here...she was touching him right now so she remained hopeful as she closed her eyes.


"Am I dreaming? I am dreaming aren't I? This isn't real. You can't be real."

A man stood in front of her, covered head to toe in black, smoke curling from the end of his cigarette as he puffed on the small cancer stick. He walked towards her, throwing his cigarette to the ground, stepping on it with the heel of his boot.

"But it is luv, all of this here, what you see in front of you and what you see when you sleep," the blonde man he crouched in front of her, his blue eyes holding her hostage. "All those are real. Sorry luv, but you've been Chosen."

"For what?"

"Into every generation she is born: one girl in all the world, a chosen one. She alone will wield the strength and skill to fight the vampires, demons and the forces of darkness; to stop the spread of their evil and the swell of their number. She is the Slayer." He reached out and touched her cheek, sliding his fingers down her face before letting his hand fall away. "And that's you."

"I can't be a Slayer. I'm too young. Daddy won't like it. He doesn't even let me walk down the street by myself anymore. And Ben will be so mad...!"

"The Slayer."

"Huh?"

"Not a Slayer luv. You're It. The Chosen One...you're the one, true blue blood, original Slayer."

"But-But that means...if I'm the Slayer..." Mary let the dreams she remembered pass through her as her heart pounded in her chest and her stomach clenched into knots. Dreams of fighting, of running, of anger and pain and tears and envy rushed through her as she dropped to her knees.

It was too much.

"If I'm the Slayer then..."

Too much for a little girl who only turned 11 three hours ago. She was supposed to have a party today, she got dressed in her real black angel wings...she asked for pie instead of cake because she took after Daddy, who loved pie. She got a card from Grandpa Bobby, something he sent to her months ago before he died on a hunting trip and she was finally going to open it. It felt heavy so she knew he had sent her a gift of some kind. Ben was going to play her a song with his band, something he wrote just for her. Mom was going to smile and laugh and forget all about the stupid nightmares she kept having that scared her.

Even her best friend in the whole wide world said he was going to make a trip to see her on her very special day. And he was always so busy, so very busy making sure that the world was safe from his brother and his followers.

"SHE had to die."

Mary felt her vision blur as tears slid down her cheeks. A sob tore from her lips and she quickly turned away. Brave girls didn't cry. Tears never solved anything. She wasn't hurt or bleeding or had any broken bones. So she shouldn't be crying.

But she was hurt. Her heart was broken.

"Mary!"

Daddy yelled for her and she quickly wiped away her tears. If Daddy saw that she was crying, he would be angry at the man behind her. They would fight and she was afraid he would be hurt. She only wanted Daddy to be happy. "Mary?"

"Here I am Daddy!" she waved him over, stepping towards him as he quickly picked her up in his arms, checking her over and she saw that she had upset him. A pang hit her heart and she quickly hid her face in his neck. "I'm sorry Daddy, I didn't mean to run away from everyone."

"Who the hell are you and what are you doing with my little girl?" Daddy demanded from the blonde man, his voice deep and hot as he was in protective mode. "If you hurt her, I swear to God I'll-"

"He didn't hurt me Daddy. We were just talking." Mary pulled back from his shoulder to meet his eyes. "Daddy, he knows. He knows why I've been having those bad dreams."

Daddy glared at the man, looking him over before muttering, "Christo."

"Dean Winchester I presume?" the man asked, his scarred eyebrow quirked at the word Daddy muttered. "My name is Spike and I've come to you on behalf of the Watcher's Council. I need to talk to you about your daughter Mary."