I didn’t post any fic at all during the whole of October. That’s perhaps the longest period of inactivity in the history of this journal. However I’ve made substantial progress on the next ‘Tabula Avatar’ chapter and it will appear shortly. In the meantime I have knocked off a short fic.
This is a strange one. The idea came to me as I was trying to write a Clex fic. Now, I don’t watch Smallville, and to me ‘Clex’ could mean only one thing. I’ve had an idea kicking around in my head for a long time but something goes wrong every time I try to do something with it. This was no exception. I lost interest, started thinking about unusual pairings, and came up with what is probably the weirdest pairing in the entire history of fan fiction. No, scratch that ‘probably’. And it’s Biblefic! Starring Spike!
This is a BtVS/Doctor Who/The Bible crossover. PG-13 but contains mild slash. 1,500 words.
Undead Inna Babylon
“Well, we’re here,” the Doctor announced. “Ancient Babylon. Are you ready, Spike?”
“Sure thing, Doc,” the vampire replied. He frowned. “It is night-time, right? Don’t fancy spontaneous combustion.”
“Don’t worry, dawn won’t come for over nine hours,” the Doctor assured him.
“Knew I’d picked the right Summers sister,” Spike said, smirking.
The Doctor rolled his eyes. “You have nine hours twenty-six minutes until sunrise. That’s ample time to accomplish your task and to return here.”
“Okay, Doc,” said Spike. “Here I go to save the day.” He opened the door of the TARDIS and stepped out into the Babylonian night.
The pit was illuminated by flickering torches. The prophet Daniel stood impassively awaiting his fate. He was not afraid. The Lord his God would protect him. There was also another factor on his side, unknown to the treacherous Persian satraps who had plotted his downfall, and he was confident that he was safe. In fact he had found it difficult to suppress a triumphant smirk when Cyrus the Great, erroneously referred to in the Bible as Darius the Mede, had declared that Daniel was to be executed by being thrown to the lions. There was only one lion in Babylon and, years before, Daniel had extracted a thorn from the lion’s paw. He had befriended the grateful beast and he knew that it would never attack him.
His confidence wavered when a herald appeared at the edge of the pit and addressed the crowd of spectators. “Subjects of the great king,” the herald declared, “I regret to announce that, due to circumstances beyond our control, there is a change to the advertised spectacle. Someone has poisoned our lion!”
The herald paused as a collective gasp sounded from the crowd. “Great is the wrath of King Cyrus,” he went on, once the noise had subsided, “and dreadful will be the punishment visited upon the malefactor once he is caught. The execution must go on, however, and therefore we have selected a substitute beast. The criminal Daniel will be devoured by a savage leopard. We apologise for this alteration and hope that you will still enjoy this evening’s entertainment.”
Daniel’s jaw dropped. This was terrible news, as he had never pulled thorns from the paws of any leopards, and it seemed that he was doomed. He pulled himself together. If he had to die then he would do so with dignity. He stood up straight and awaited the arrival of the leopard.
A guttural growl rang out. Slaves pulled upon ropes and a wooden door set into the side of the pit swung open. A wild leopard, five cubits and a span of snarling fury, padded into the pit. The prophet gritted his teeth and prepared himself for death.
Suddenly, from out of the crowd, a strange figure emerged. Pale was his hair, even as the colour of straw, and black as night was his long coat of leather. He jumped down into the pit, ran past Daniel, and charged at the leopard.
The ferocious feline predator bared its teeth at the newcomer. The yellow-haired man bared his teeth in return. The leopard sprang, claws extended, and Daniel winced. He was certain that he was about to see the man torn apart.
Verily, a miracle didst occur, for the newcomer seized the leopard in mid-leap. His movements were swifter and imbued with greater power than those of the wild beast. The straw-haired man swung the animal into the air, raised it above his head, and then slammed it down onto the floor of the pit.”
“Just a big pussy, aren’t you?” sneered the man. He bent down and slapped the great cat’s ears. “Want to be a deaf leopard?”
The beast spat and clawed. It failed to make contact. The interloper swatted aside the leopard’s paws and punched it on the nose. The animal yowled, spun about, and ran back through the opening in the side of the pit into its cage.
“Winner, and still champion,” boasted the stranger. He turned to the condemned man. “You’d be the prophet Daniel, right?”
“Yea, verily, I am he,” Daniel confirmed. “Who are you?”
In the stands overlooking the pit King Cyrus rose to his feet. “What is the meaning of this interference with my sentence?” he asked. “Passed upon Daniel in accordance with my decree, under the laws of the Medes and the Persians, which cannot be changed and altereth not.”
“Just making sure that things go the way they’re supposed to,” replied the straw-haired man. “Bloke who poisoned the lion was trying to change history. Bugger up the time-line. Couldn’t let that happen.”
“Your meaning passeth my understanding,” said Cyrus, “but such a feat of strength and valour is deserving of reward. The barbarian may go free, as mayest Daniel the Israelite.”
“Ta, your maj,” said the stranger. “Come on, Danny boy, let’s get out of here.”
A ladder was lowered into the pit and the two men climbed up. The hero went straight to the Great King’s scribe. “Do us a favour, mate,” he said. “When you write this up on your little clay tablets, leave me out of it. Just say that Daniel faced down the lion. Second thoughts, play the lion up a bit, okay? Say that the pit was full of the buggers.” Daniel could not see his saviour’s face but he could see that of the scribe. It suddenly went as white as alabaster. “Or I’ll rip your head off and do something nasty in the hole,” the man who had overcome the leopard went on, his tone steely. The scribe cowered back, nodding in terrified agreement, and the hero turned and walked away.
Daniel followed. Once they were clear of the crowd he addressed his rescuer. “Art thou an angel?”
The man snorted. “Am I lame? Does my hair go straight up? Am I bloody stupid? Nah, ‘m just a hero.”
“Then I thank you, hero, for saving my life,” Daniel said. “Tell me, how can I repay you?”
The warrior looked Daniel up and down, his eyes narrowing, and a grin came to his face. “Well, there is something that you could do,” he said. He bent close to Daniel’s ear and made a suggestion.
Daniel’s eyebrows shot up. “But is that not an Abomination before the Lord?”
The barbarian stranger shrugged. “So’s eating shellfish. Frankly, I don’t think the Lord giveth a toss.” His mouth opened slightly, his eyes seemed to twinkle, and he ran his tongue over the tips of his teeth. “Go on, give it a try. You might like it.”
Daniel cast his eyes over his rescuer. The man was undeniably attractive and had, after all, saved him from a hideous death. “Very well,” he said. “I shall do as you ask, abomination or no, for you have delivered me from the claws of the leopard. Tell me, oh warrior, what is your name?”
“Name’s Spike,” said the man with hair of straw. “Remember it, Danny boy, ‘coz you’re going to be screaming it in ecstasy later.” He grinned again. “Not quite what I had planned, mate, but the leopard legged it a bit too quick. I’d intended to eat some pussy.”
Back in the TARDIS the Doctor congratulated Spike. “Well done,” he said. “I knew that you’d be the right person to handle the leopard.”
“Just call me Tarzan of the Vampires,” Spike said, flashing a wide grin. “Timeline all fixed, then?”
“It is,” the Doctor confirmed. “Your threat to that scribe was a good thought. I’ve checked and the Bible still talks about Daniel in the lions’ den. There is no mention of a leopard, or of any mysterious stranger.”
“Still wonder how much the Bible and Androcles nicked off each other there,” said Spike. “Which came first? Not that it matters. Right, if everything’s sorted, let’s get back to the twenty-first century.” He directed another grin at the Doctor. “Good thing you didn’t need me to rescue Shadrach, Mesach, and Abednigo from the burning fiery furnace.”
“Oh, I did that myself,” said the Doctor, “with my trusty Sonic Screwdriver.” He held up the device. “It has a fire-extinguisher attachment.”
“Bloody useful gadget. Wouldn’t have a spare, would you, mate?”
“I’m afraid not,” said the Doctor. “You’ll have to content yourself with my thanks as your reward.”
“No problem, Doc,” said Spike. “Us blokes in long swirly coats have to stick together. Well, except for Angel.”
“He’s not so bad,” said the Doctor, as he began to operate the controls of the TARDIS. “Although I will concede that he doesn’t have your sheer flair and style.” He closed one eye. “There is one thing about this little adventure that has me slightly puzzled. I’d never realised that you are gay, or rather bisexual, and the somewhat elderly prophet seems a rather odd choice of partner anyway.”
“Oh, I’m not gay,” Spike told him. “It was only a one-off, Doc.” He smirked. “Just couldn’t resist the appeal of a little Spaniel.”