Part 1: Clumsy
"Go ahead and sleep, love, it may be a long time before you can again." < That's me alright, being comfort guy for my guy. > "Go ahead, love. Sleep." < But he won't listen t'me. That'd be about the same as me listening to my bloody sire. Bollocks. >
The ocean rocked Xander and Spike on top of him, warmed by hard 'n soft body below. The boat jostled over the ocean pointed east. Xander stares at Spike's duster over the porthole, the sun should have poured in through that little thing. The ocean growled under the boat, but the sky beyond the porthole held no clouds.
"Why are we going home, Spike?"
< Don't know, but I will turn you while we're there. > "Guess it's cause you miss your friends, love. Do you have a light, fuzzy boy?" Spike rubbed his thumb along Xander's chin. "You need t' shave."
"There's matches in the duster."
"Guess I'll wait here then." < Cause I'm not movin'.>
"Just get up, not-romantic romantic guy. Why are we going home?"
Spike leaned up on Xander, stared down at him, "You booked us passage on this floating bloody coffin, you tell me."
Spike clambered out of the small bed, reached into an outside pocket of the duster, pulled out matches. The boat lurched and Spike braced himself on the cabin wall. < Where's my smokes? >
Xander's eyes got big. His face got green. He looked like he was about to spew. The boat lurched back. Spike stood up straight, found a cigarette, lit it, stared at Xander. Big, souled, not-yet-a-vampire, Xander. < Nummy. >
"Why are you looking at me like that?" Xander said.
"Like what?"
"Like a man sized chicken dumpling, that's like what."
"Is there any sweet 'n sour sauce? Love sweet 'n sour sauce. Especially on skin. Mmmm. Xander dumplings. That's prob'ly quite marketable, love. Don't tempt me. More, I mean."
"You're so, with the, and the. Come see where flattery will get ya, bucko."
Spike laughed. "I know exactly where flattery will get me, love. In'ta your pants and back out again in one piece. Like seduction, but without the bleedin' rose petals. You're avoiding my question, pet."
Xander looked down. He looked back at the duster. He looked anywhere, but at shirtless blue-eyed cigarette smokin' Spike. Spike frowned.
Xander paused, then said, "What question?"
"You know which bloody question, Xan-dur. The one about the Hellmouth, the one about your friends, the one about, why in bloody hell we're going back." Xander groaned. "Yeah, love, that question." Spike turned around, put his cigarette out in the ashtray bolted to the table bolted to the deck. Xander's face went white when Spike turned around.
Spike's eyebrows shifted, furrowed, then bulged down in the center, his mouth opened and his fangs showed, his eyes turned yellow and wild, caged animal wild. Xander shuddered. His hands went straight to his mouth. Spike stalked over to the side of the bed, and gripped one strong hand around Xander's jaw, which clenched tight inside the hold.
Xander's focus darted back and forth between Spike's eyes, then drifted from eyes to mouth, and came to rest on Spike's curled lips.
"Why the hell are we going back?" Spike's voice insisted, more growled than spoken. "I want a bite, love. Give me?"
Xander's jaw relaxed, and dropped, a hot tongue reached out to the underside of Spike's hand and licked, slow. Spike's hand slid down on Xander's face, and Xander bit down hard between Spike's thumb and forefinger. He locked his jaw as Spike's blood ran down his chin and over his cheeks. Into his mouth. Spike panted. He didn't pull away. Just panted.
"Nummy."
Xander's eyes rolled back into his head and Spike slapped him back into the moment.
"No passing out when the fun's just begun."
Xander's jaw went slack and Spike pulled his hand back, licked it.
Xander yelled, "JesusmotherfuckingWilliamfuckingShatner. Fuck, Spike. You twisted fuck."
Spike's face fell back into pretty mode, and he sidled up again to Xander. "Well, you could just tell me, love."
"Love, love? You must be confused."
"Sweetness, why are we going back?" Spike licked Xander's chin, slow, painstaking, lifting his blood from Xander's stubble. "Hmmm?"
"We're going back, because of promises."
Spike stopped, jerked back. "Bloody promises put my blood on your chin?"
"That would have been the biting, probably. Just a guess."
"I thought I taught you better than promises. Don't be a git, git. There's no promise in the world worth steppin' back onto the Hellmouth. No bloody promise in any dimension."
"This one is."
"Is what, love?"
"Worth it."
Spike, more William the Bloody than Spike these days, rolled his eyes. The words he thought. < Can't wait to make you, Xan. Can't wait to taste you deep down. The deepest part of you. Crimson and clover, shit. Crimson and. Whatever. Licorice, right? Like dark licorice flows from you into my mouth and I want to be. bloody full on it, and fill you with me. I understand promises, pet. I do. Christ. If. >
".you say so, pet. you say so."
Spike kissed Xander on the forehead, on the eyes, and pulled Xander tight to his cold body. Xander's heart calmed and they drifted to sleep on the tumult of the sea.
*****
Xander stepped up to the door, turned the knob, pushed in. The Scoobies sat around, thumbs twiddled almost to nothing. They looked, like five sets of eyes could be one, to the door, jaws dropped.
Xander stood there and didn't speak. He winked, grinned, but said nothing.
Years of living with Spike hardened his look, his eyes. Made him cold inside even though he radiated heat. His clothes were dark now too. Still more denim and cotton than leather and silk, but deep indigo instead of faded jeans, black boots instead of brown ones or sneakers. A black tank-top that could have been painted on, thin framed black sunglasses pushed up into hair longer than it had ever been, and long sideburns all showed a man where a boy had been. Showed the dark that had been light.
The Scoobies gaped in shock, and started to move as one towards Xander with crosses and stakes behind their backs.
"What, like, I've been turned by the neutered one?" he said as they approached.
The Scoobies stopped and five sets of eyes darted between each of the other sets of eyes.
"Xander, we." Someone started to say.
Xander waited a moment, the right moment and said, "Yeah, you did."
Xander reached outside the doorway. Sunlight hit his hand, (Look, not dust) glinted on the long blade he pulled from just out of sight. He raised the weapon before him. The Scoobies gasped, like five throats could be one, at his ease, the strong hands, as he handled it.
< I want to plow through you people like a plow in a field. I mean, like a bomb through a bomb. Er. I want to kill you people. Scoobies. Who ever asked me if I wanted to be a Scooby? Who ever gave me an option? Oh, wait. silence. I hear a great big heapin' helpin' of silence from the peanut gallery. Course, I'm usually the peanut gallery, but we can't stay the same forever, now can we? Though I suppose you'd like it if I had, wouldn't you Buffy? Giles? Will? Anya? Ha. Dawn. >
For every word he thought he swung away. Soon covered in as much blood as any sane vamp would stake himself for. Buffy fell first, headfirst. Head clean off her shoulders with one swipe. Giles next. Will. Anya runner up, running for the door. Lost her feet, one, two. Dawn last. Almost not at all. Xander paused.
"Hi, Dawnie."
"Xand. What happ. What did we.?" she said, stammered, a tear in her voice.
"You grew up pretty, didn't you? Would have been nice to see it, be nicer still if you were gonna keep growing. I'm sorry Dawnie, but you're not. Gonna keep."
A long, shiny blade through her heart, one last pained look, and Dawn fell.
* * *
"Shit." Xander leaned against the porthole. The ocean boiled night black and bruise blue to match his cheek and the sky was clear with lightning on the horizon. "Fucking dreams."
Spike sat up slow in the bed, rested on one arm, fished for a smoke with the other, eyes half-open. "Where you go, love?"
"Here."
"Bed too small? Tired of me already?"
"Years, Spike. Years."
"We almost there then?"
"Too almost there."
"Come on then, one more for the ocean and we'll get dressed." Spike exhaled and looked up at Xander, covered shoes to shades, through the dark. "Or, I'll get dressed and find a people burger, whichever."
Xander turned his head to Spike. "No fast food on the open sea, baby."
"Aw, love, you called me, 'baby'."
"Need a dipey-wipey?"
"Sod off." Spike sat up, exhaled again. "Why the mood?"
Xander looked back to the ocean. The east turned a lighter shade of night with every passing moment. The human-made kind of lighter. Xander watched headlights far not far enough away cross a bridge. "Fuck."
"We land that soon, then?"
When Xander straightened himself out, stood tall, and turned around the vampire had disappeared, clothes gone, as smoke drifted out the cabin door like a trail of Spike. "Fucking dreams."
Xander followed the smoke out of the cabin and down the hall. He turned where it turned, climbed stairs where it climbed stairs. Followed it to the top deck, to the bow of the ship, to the blond head that rested on top of a pile of leather. Wrapped his arms around the leather and squeezed Spike's waist. Whispered something that sounded like nothing into Spike's ears. Let Spike go. Stepped to the rail beside the vampire.
"I can feel the Hellmouth from here, pet."
"You mistakenly assume I can't."
"I'd never." Spike started, yeah he would.
"Yeah, you would."
"I know."
"I don't want to see them, but they're why we're."
"I know."
"I dreamt that I killed them all. I didn't even think twice about it. The sword from Okinawa."
"Yeah? Lots of blood, then?"
Xander winced. "Yeah. Asshole."
"Sorry." Spike tossed the cigarette butt into the water, watched it disappear under the ship. Pretended he was the thing, bumping along the hull, sure to be eaten by some confused shark, or merman or something. Water demons. "Ew."
"What?" Xander looked at Spike.
"I'm repulsed. Water demons."
"What?" Xander looked back at the water. Scaly figures with arms and legs leapt up and down through the rough surf like dolphins on crack. "Ew."
"That's what I said, love."
"I wonder if I went to school with them," Xander said.
"Dreamt about killing them too?"
Somehow, Xander managed to not answer that, and the man and the vampire looked out at the coastline as it glowed in the dark.
"Welcome to Sunnyhell." And Spike turned to Xander, hands on shoulders, pulled Xander to him. Kissed Xander. Backed away. Xander blushed and turned back to the rail. Spike stared at the man's profile, something in him like envy, or yearning, for home. "Enjoy your stay, love."
"You're right though," Xander said.
"What's that?"
"I don't know when I'll be able to sleep again."
*****
Willow hung out on the balcony, checked for vamps, demons, whatevers, by remote. The Bronze moved pretty slow these days, had for a couple of years, but Willow still felt sixteen every time she walked in. Still felt alone and smart in a room full and stupid, complete with boogey men. Now, the room was less full and Willow was less alone plus, now, she could feel the boogey men from a hundred paces.
She registered a human, but not quite, presence on the dance floor, a blond woman. Buffy glanced up then worked through the small crowd. Her shoulders pinched, her hair long again, Buffy looked maybe more beautiful than ever, but still not as beautiful as the brunette she walked towards.
Willow smiled as Dawn smiled at Buffy, Buffy said something, Dawn looked up and waved at Willow, Buffy pulled Dawn's arm down, scolded her. Buffy would always be the big sister, the big bad Buffinator.
Willow's face stayed in perma-smile mode until she felt the first tic of something fully not human. Buffy turned, too, grin off. With a status check glance at Willow, Buffy moved to the door, Willow to the stairs.
By now the two had cracker-jacked their system. Willow, the human highlighter, picked out the bad, keyed up its aura into a visible range, immobilized it, then Buffy swooped in, either for the kill with the real threats or the oh-so-witty "This is my turf" to the lesser threats. Buffy's brawls had been limited to bickering with Dawn for almost two years.
Willow froze on the stairs, spotted Buffy. Two. She felt them. One at the door, one outside. Buffy nodded. A black and yellow aura moved through a mass of blue and brown. Neither saw the figure itself, just the colored shadow over its head. Then the other one came through the door and they both saw it. Red.
"Typical," Buffy said, to no one. "Even their auras can't dress."
Buffy moved for the red aura, the black and yellow already forgotten. Willow gasped as Buffy neared the figure crowned in red. Willow burst back into movement. She wanted to clear the distance between Buffy and herself before the blond reached the red aura, but couldn't make it.
Buffy came to rest in front of the aura, greeted by a too familiar quirk of scarred eyebrow and the same tag line that always emerged from its guttersnipe mouth:
"Slayer. Not feeling well? You look a bit tired."
Willow whispered the spell of stillness as she approached, but the spell's target shrugged it off with less strain than it had taken her to whisper it.
"Red. Hello."
"Spike," Buffy said, "This is my turf."
"And there's always that option." Spike said.
"What?"
"Talk the Big Bad to death instead of making with the bloodsport. Come on, Slayer, I like it rough. You do too, as I recall. Or, wait. How about I don't recall and we fight now."
"What are you playing at?"
"Now listen, you silly bird, I am playing at a wink and a shag, but it ain't for you. It's for the horse I rode in on." Spike laughed, lit a cigarette.
Willow stood dumbstruck at the vampire in front of her. Everything she knew said, "Whoa, Will, harmless, de-fanged wannabe." The Slayer thought the same thing as she stared at the smoke sliding out of Spike's body.
"You want to fight me? And have it not lead to sex?" Buffy said.
"Red, did you teach her about perception? Or did she learn it on her own?"
"Actually, no, Anya taught. Or, then there's, nevermind," Willow said. "Buffy, do you have a stake?"
"Right so, Red's the slayer these days? That's interesting, didn't see that coming. Buff being all, dead, yeah, thought that might happen, but."
"Oh, my God! Spike!" The voice slammed into Spike's head and he smiled, more out of instinct than joy.
"Dawn. Gosh, it's good to see you. Look at you, all, not like the Slayer. That's swell." Dawn ran into Spike's open arms. Willow and Buffy stared at each other, dumb with dumbness. Spike squeezed tight, but not as tight as Dawn who seemed like she might never let go.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were gone forever after." Dawn stopped herself and looked up into Spike's face. His eyes dropped as he searched the past for words that were fair.
"Well, so did I kiddo," he said.
"Spike, please drop the innocent thing." Buffy said, tolerance faded
He looked up from Dawn, "Bloody. are you still here? Don't you have someplace to be? Something to slay? Who's the villain this season? Or did you finally rid the world of all the big bads?"
"Well, at least she missed one." All heads turned now, as Xander, sporting a nifty yellow and black aura, walked into the mix.
*****
Xander leaned on the counter of the Magic Box. < The last time I saw this place it looked like Sarajevo. > He stared at the table; Buffy, Giles, Willow, Anya, and Dawn sat round it. He thought about the days he hated to think about, stared around at all the magic stuff. He thought of the dream he'd had the night before, on the boat. < Just a few swings of the blade and... > Willow looked comfortable amidst all the gadgets and whosists. Xander smiled and felt the weight leaning on him shift a little bit.
Spike sucked on a little, white, plastic nicotine inhaler as if it were the last meal he'd ever suck. He shoved off from Xander's side, made for the door, and fished in his pockets for the real thing.
"Bloody hell. I'm going outside."
Xander left the counter and moved to the table, heard the bell < new bell > over the door ring and then the slam as it shut. Anya tapped her finger on a book, irritated at the blank stares and cowed silence.
"Well, I'll say something." Anya waved her finger at the body closest to her. "Could this little Scoobfest not happen elsewhere? I have green pieces of paper with the faces of dead presents."
"Presidents." Dawn held back a smile.
Anya rolled her eyes, continued, "Anyway, I have money to fucking count."
Xander watched this exchange, amused. "Whoa, Anya, that's not ready for prime-time language, even for you."
Anya's nostrils flared and Xander could feel her inner ex-vengeance demon. "That's it, I've had it. Get out."
Xander laughed and pushed out a lopsided grin. "I haven't said anything."
Anya crossed her arms, looked at the Scoobies who remained silent and waited for her to do something. She sighed defeatedly and slumped back in her chair. She said, "It was more than enough, really."
"Anya, unwrap your panties from the bunch they're in and be in the now. Xander is here, granted, Spike is what, part of the ordered pair, but so? Anyway, yay," Dawn said.
Giles leaned back in his chair. Willow and Buffy looked at him, tried to gauge his expression. Xander looked at Willow and Buffy and followed their eyes to Giles. The three of them combined could make nothing of it. Giles' expression stood unchanged by the attention, unreadable as ever.
"At least some things never change, hmmm," Xander said.
A moment of silence passed; Dawn found the tabletop fascinating, Willow looked up to the rafters, Buffy stared tried to stare Xander down. When he didn't blink, she did.
"Fine, I'll bite. Why are you back? And why are you living the life of Trent?" Buffy said.
Xander started to laugh. "I guess I'd rather have nine inch nails than nine inch stakes?" Willow groaned and eyes all around rolled back into heads. Xander chuckled, regained composure. "Seriously, you spend most of your time living at night where there's pretty people, you have to - you know - be a pretty night person. Besides, I'd kill the me you remember if I met him today."
Willow gulped. "Kill?"
"Sorry Will. Willow. I don't really deserve to call you Will anymore, I've done things." Xander said, found Willow's eyes and held them.
Buffy interrupted, "Things? Like, slayage? What? How bad could you be? You may look all children of the night, but you're still Xander. Aren't you?"
"Sometimes. Not anytime recently."
The door opened, the bell plinked and Spike reentered the shop. The smell if not the actual smoke found its way in after him. Xander looked over his shoulder, smiled, motioned for Spike to stand by him.
"When was the last time I was Xander, baby?"
"You mean 'get on the Banana Boat' Xander? Xander-proper? Outside guess, three years? Maybe." Spike thought, counted.
"Yeah, that's about." Xander remembered and his eyes lit up. "No, there was that bad week last summer."
"True enough. Yeah, I guess you lot don't much approve of new and improved Xander?"
Spike looked around. He stopped when Giles spoke up and pulled off his glasses. < He's going to wipe them off with the tail of his shirt. > Giles bunched up the bottom of his shirt around his glasses' lense and spoke. Xander and Spike, without a look to the other, both broke into grins.
"It's not that we don't. approve. It's certainly not that I don't approve, God knows. I've been. Well, rebel without a cause more often that I care to admit, but it is quite an astonishing transformation."
Spike smirked, "That's what happens to little boys when their bollocks finally drop."
Dawn and Buffy sounded a chorus of "ewww". Anya rolled her eyes, for once not to condescend, but to agree. A half-smile flitted across Giles' face; he put his glasses back on. Xander just stared at the vampire in a sad impersonation of total embarrassment.
He rolled his eyes and said, "I can't believe you just said that."
"Why not, love, y'know it's true. Truer words've never been spoken. To be or not to be, you are the question."
"Whether 'tis nobler of the kissage or the gropage." Xander said.
Spike leaned down from behind Xander who turned his head up and their lips crushed together, mouths opened just enough. Xander's hand found the back of Spike's head, Spike's hand found Xander's chest. They held the pose.
"So many things that are so very wrong are so happening right now," Buffy said as she tried to look away.
Xander and Spike broke their embrace and turned toward Buffy and together chimed the ultimate comeback:
"So?"
*****
Author's Note:
One question was always on Spike's mind and for Xander the calendar was always the answer. And the time killer was always pretty obvious... (i.e. actual nc-17 smuttyness)
*****
On to the flashback...
"How many days?" Spike said.
Xander stalked across the apartment, the one he once shared with Anya, to the calender covered in red x's, the days counted down one mark at a time. He held his finger to the calender, scanned down. "Eleven."
"Eleven bloody days, love. How are we supposed to make it?"
"On the sofa, probably. The bed, maybe. The shower is a yes, the kitchen counter is a yes. The floor, if need arise. How else? The park? Maybe again. Hmmm, there's lots of ways we can make it."
"I mean," Spike said, "how are we supposed to keep from killing them before we leave?"
Xander turned to Spike, his eyes shocked, but not really. "Gee, Spike, we just don't. Kill them."
* * *
Spike's tongue was cool, wet and dry, flicking across Xander's back. Xander arched up to it, Spike pulled away, almost broke the contact. Xander moaned. Spike held Xander face down, their bodies connected. Spike inside Xander, Xander around Spike. Their rhythm constant. In, out, press, pull, push, pull, in, out. Xander flexed tight around Spike. Spike growled, low, deep; sunk his dick in deeper. Xander rose to his knees, Spike pulled out, away.
"Hey, get back in there."
Spike pushed in free of hesitation, felt the man beneath him struggle to stay up. Spike's dick throbbed in and out, longer, slower, pushed the button deep inside Xander who came onto the hard floor beneath them. He clamped down around Spike, in one, two, three thrusts. They collapsed. Spike lay on top of Xander, slid around his side, his dick drained still inside Xander.
"Bloody hell. It amazes me every time we do that." Xander sighed a lover's sigh and pressed his lips to Spike's, slow, full of intent. Twisted his body away, for a moment, straightened himself, pulled Spike closer, spent dicks touching, a sequel greenlit into preproduction. Xander ran his fingers into the vampire's hair, where roots showed, and grabbed hold, a gentle tug, a tease of a bite on Spike's lip, and they were into principal photography, man hard against vampire, vampire hard against man.
"I know I'm not a vampire and all, but," Xander said, "can I come in?"
"Bloody right you can, pet."
Xander rolled on top of Spike, Spike's back flat on the floor, his legs hooked around Xander's waist, dicks pressed together. Spike spread further, Xander spit into his palm, gripped his dick. He aimed his head, purple, expectant at Spike's hole, sought purchase. Rubbed it there for a moment, craned down to kiss Spike, felt the real sigh of permission, the truth, and drove forward slow.
Spike bit his lip, began to chew through the pain with dull, human teeth, felt himself open, swallow Xander whole, gameface always one growl away. < Can be all ugly-pretty when he can't see my face, but not like this. >
Xander pushed harder, longer, almost in. He felt Spike open, watched him chew at his lip, wanted to feel that pain, saw the furrow of the eyebrows that said, "Be careful with me." < Careful with Spike. Spike careful with me. Careful. > And he hit home. All the way, hard heat deep in cool. Spike lay still, Xander hovered over him, waited. Flexed his hips, his dick swelling. Spike shook, his whole body tense, every muscle taut. Xander backed out, slow, slow, slow. Spike rolled his head up against the hard floor, looked away. Xander grabbed his head, pulled it forward, up, kissed him as he pushed back in, slow.
< My head's going to explode. My bloody, body, Jesus I let you do this to me. Make me want to live so I can die happy. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. >
Xander moved faster now. Lapped up the blood from the vampire's chin. In, out, < damn, > out, in, < yes, > in, < Jesus, > in, out. Pushed hard, quick. Wrapped his hand around Spike's dick. Felt the vampire throb in his hand, pulled down, pre-come spreading over his head as the foreskin slid back. Held the foreskin down, squeezed the head, torture, pleasure, < good. >
Spike grinned, a little growl, a smirk. The whelp, the man, pulled Spike's flesh back, bared his head, squeezed, pressed. Began the slow tease, the one that happened fast.
Xander throbbed again, harder, felt the vampire jump as he found the spot, the place inside. Again, again, again. The vampire tightened around his dick, his grip tightened around the vampire's dick. Xander pushed deeper, deeper, pulled harder on Spike, up, down, in, out, up, < Jesus, > out, < damn, > in, up. < Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. > Both came, sudden, hard. Hot come filled Spike. Cool, warm come filled Xander's hands, their chests. Bodies. Together. Both.
* * *
"How many days?" Spike said.
Xander caught his breath. "Does it really matter?"
They lay in a pile, a cool, warm, hot, pile. Arms and legs tangled, face to face on their sides. Xander swallowed, gulped, kissed Spike. Spike kissed back. They broke.
"No, not really," Spike said. "Long as we're leaving. Long as it's together."
"It is, Spike, it is."
*****
"You left in such a. hurry. And we noticed, Xander gone. Bad gone. Nowhere to be found gone. And we noticed, Spike gone. We weren't sure whether that was good or bad, actually, but. Gone, both bodies. Together?"
Dawn spoke for the Scoobies, her voice high, curious. Each of the Scoobies looked to Xander for some reason, then to Spike as if he could make Xander say something. Xander who sat, monument still. Xander who wasn't quite who he had been, but wasn't quite different either.
"And you're back now," Willow said, a smile peeking out from behind somewhere. "But why now, why back? Why leave?"
The question < why leave? > no one wanted to ask, but the question < why leave? > everyone wanted answered, popped out of her mouth < why leave? > before she could stop it.
"I guess because." Xander began.
Giles held up his hand, "Don't, Xander, not quite yet. It's not time. I'm not sure that we're ready to know the why's and how's. I know I'm not. I'm content to have you back under this roof." Giles smiled wide, and Xander knew he meant it. Buffy took exception, shook her head.
"I don't get it."
"There's libraries of things you don't get, pet." Spike interrupted.
"No, I mean, whatever. Giles, is right, I guess, technically. I don't like it, but as long as you're here, Xander, you'll explain eventually, right? You'll explain before you."
"Leave again? I won't be leaving again."
Spike bristled at the finality, at the sheer, just, < Dammit, love, why'd you go and say something that permanent, why'd you make that particular promise? I won't stay here again, and I won't leave without you, so that puts me. where? > "Xander, won't?"
"Well, baby, it's a contraction using the words 'will' and 'not', it's often used as a statement of choice or intent, both of which I have in any give situation and which I choose to exercise now."
"What?" Spike and Willow intoned, curious.
Spike continued, "Big words, love. Sounds like you even know what they mean."
"You think years abroad with you and I'd pretend you didn't talk in big words at night?" Xander replied, a smile emerged on his face, pride. Proud of himself, proud of Spike. proud of the Scoobies. < Home. Ick. > "Well, if everything's okay, then. I don't know about my sex-vampire, but I'd like to go make with the ugly bumpin'."
"When you say it like that, love, then. Bloody hell, yeah, might."
"Okay then. Guys, nice to see you, we'll play catch up tomorrow night? This is kinda my primetime as much as its Spike's."
"Wait." Buffy spoke now, hard. "What about your aura? Right, Will? It was off when we spotted you at the Bronze? What do you mean your primetime?" Her eyes scanned shelves near her for a stake within arm's distance. Xander noticed.
"Yes, my primetime, as in, I prefer night, not day. Day is of the 'I can't be with me mate,' as he might say. But because that's not what you're asking, I'll say this once, and only once. I'm clean. No bites on me. None of the turnin', none of the dustin'." Xander stood, crossed his arms as Spike walked to the door, not wanting any part of a confrontation between Xander and Buffy, at least not this confrontation. "We clear?"
"As a windshield, I mean. Window. Or, help." Buffy stammered.
"Crystal, Xander, Buffy's just worried. Who's not?" Willow said. She rested a hand on Buffy's shoulder who pretended to research an invisible blemish on some fingernail.
"I'm bloody not," Spike said from the door, cigarette already at his lips. "Come on, pet, so I can fuck you proper." Spike added for shock value, for the shock of him saying it. To Xander. And meaning it. < Giggle. >
�Come on, pet, so I can fuck you proper.� Spike added for shock value, for the shock of him saying it. To Xander. And meaning it. Giggle.
*****
Tongue flick across skin and a tiny artificial breeze cooled the spot the tongue traced and raised gooseflesh on the taut torso.
"Don't tease."
"Wouldn't dare, love."
A nip at a navel through a small patch of dark hair that led down and hands held a head to the stomach and clawed through the hair.
"You'll never hurt me."
Fingers down the side of a body and little red marks where the grip held too fast and too strong but still gentle.
"You'll never leave me."
A growl against stretched denim as a chin rubbed over hardness behind dark blue.
"I love you."
A button popped off between sharp teeth.
* * *
Spike played his hands across Xander's chest. Mapped the spaces between veins and back again. Rambled from nipple to nipple, down to navel, back up. Neck. The vein there called. Spikes fingers danced on the vein for a moment. Then the hand fell away. Spike lay on his side next to Xander's quiet, slow body. The movements more deliberate and meaningful than in wakefulness. No unneeded breath disturbed Xander's sleep, just the slow, warm in and out that filled the body of a growing grown, < yeah > man.
It was night for once. Xander asleep at night was as against his nature as Spike awake in day. It was early though and Spike knew Xander would begin to stir soon < He has to or the dreams. > Spike stood again, moved across the room; an echo reverberated in his head. Something he should never have heard. Something he should never have known was stuck in his head. A word, or its combination with two other words that sounded flat and empty and human to his ears. The Hellmouth grumbled beneath Spike's feet, he shivered, shirtless, propped open the one small window in the room and grabbed a smoke and his lighter from the table, lit it, and inhaled without hesitation.
< Love. > The word was Spike's vocabulary, it was all of it, except for those other words used for that pesky communication. The word should not have, had not until then, been in Xander's vocabulary. And then it was there. Because Spike was in Sunnydale with him despite Spike's own reservations? < Because of the years of wanton sex, slaying and. killing? > Spike looked over his shoulder to the bed. Smoke drifted from his nostrils and he stuck his chin out, pulled his bottom lip up.
He whispered as Xander began to stir, "Who do I have to kill so you won't keep this bloody promise? Who do I have to kill so we can leave this shithole again, love?"
Love. It somehow < who knows how > always came back to that word. Like, souls, mates, consciences were all that great. Spike knew how he felt about Xander and didn't even need the word to communicate it. Spike looked around the dark room, scanned the floor around the bed, found the jeans with his eyes. The button popped off, spat. < somewhere oh, yeah, across the room. > Spike felt that about Xander: too hot to wait, too cold to start, too desperate to leave, too desperate to stay.
* * *
Xander said, "You'll never leave me."
Spike's growl warned Xander, but also spurred him on. "I love you."
The flash inside Spike burned so hot and fast and he clamped his jaw and button popped, and almost choked, but no, and it was gone, across the room. Skittered across the floor as if Spike could have put himself into that button and moved himself as far away as. Love.
* * *
"Spike?"
Spike reached out the window, flicked the burnt filter of his cigarette into the lawn below the balcony. Turned back into the room. The night calling to him through the open glass pane. Fixed his sights on Xander, then the lamp Xander turned on. Back to Xander.
"You want to turn me, don't you?" Xander looked up from the disheveled covers, his hands behind his head, and squinted to make out Spike's expression.
"." Spike stood still, but his jaw and fists clenched beyond his control.
"It's okay, but not 'til we leave again."
Spike couldn't even form an ellipses with his confused tongue and shocked eyes. Xander smiled inward, but gave Spike an unmistakable expression of undying love.
Xander spoke again, "I love you . I have to believe that when you turn me, it'll still be me, somehow, that's what makes it okay. And it does. Make it okay." Spiked turned away, again. Gettin' dizzy, all this turnin', talk of turnin. Lit another cigarette at the window and blew thin gray smoke into the deep growl of the Hellmouth at night.
* * *
Spike strutted through the cemetery, avoided that place he knew too well. Little shivers ran through him at the thought, but he brushed them aside and replaced them with the whys and whatfors and Love.
Xander's home alone. Not home, someplace that used to smell like home. Spike growled low, inaudible to anyone but the fledge behind him. Spike turned, snarled, face to face with a little girl. A little, vampire girl. < How sad. >
"Ducks, I'm not a meal for you. You'd do better to run along now or I might have to end your short. whatever it is." Spike had never seen an undead thing in a body this small.
The girl vampire tapped her toes together, looked down at them with her hands clasped behind her back. When she looked up, she was a beautiful little girl. No older than ten and here, in front of him, who knew how old really. No heartbeat, anyone that couldn't hear those things would be a big, grown-up blood-bag to this little girl. Spike stooped down low to look at her. < So. Dru-like, and so Interview. Bloody stupid sires and their fucked up ideas of fun. >
"What's your name short stuff?"
"Spike, don't be foolish."
His eyes got big. A sound more like Tim the Tool Man than Spike emerged from his throat.
"You're kidding, aren't you Spike? One big jest to you, it all is." The girl's face shifted from teasing to confused. "Where's daddy?"
"Who's your daddy?" < That didn't just, bugger. >
"Spike, you know better. I've been looking all night in this cemetery, and I can't find his headstone, and I always always can. I rememberized it, you said I ought, for when we came back. But, I guess we never came back. I remember, trees and stars and boats and. Say a poem for me, Spike?"
"What poem love?" < I don't begin to know why this isn't more odd to me. >
"The one about daddy. The one that starts with, 'Alexander the great.'."
Spike's jaw dropped further than it already had. < Where's a witch when you need one? >
Spike took the girl's hand, "Come on then. I don't quite remember that poem, and I don't want to bollocks it up, now do I? We'll go find my journals and I'll read it to you proper, ta?"
"Sure, Spike, I like it best when you read to me. You wrinkle your eyebrows."
Spike led her out of the cemetery. They'd try the magic shop, failing that they'd hit the Summers' residence. Almost out of the cemetery and Spike stopped and asked the loaded question.
"So, kittens, what's your name?"
"It's funny when you play these games. My name's Buffy, you know that."
"What's the rest of it, kittens?" Spike's head swam around the Slayer's name, but he had to know, had to hear the rest.
"Buffy Rosenberg-Harris. Daddy taught me to sign things Buffy Harris. And Spike?" Buffy looked up at him, her eyes wide, nervous and expectant.
"Yeah, B. kittens?"
"I'm hungry." Buffy smiled and her little-girl game-face returned.
*****
Part 2: Smoke
Part 3: Wicked Little Town
Part 4.1: Foolish Love
Part X.X: Days Go By
Seven years before Xander and Spike returned to Sunnydale the boys were still waiting to leave. All they could do was mark the time until they got the hell off the Hellmouth.
Part 4.2: All In Me
Part 5: Unravel