Spikedluv's Scribblin'
~BtVS/Ats: The Seduction of Spike~
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When Visions Come True
by Spikedluv
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17/Slash
Spoilers: Through season 6 ‘Hells Bells’.
Summary: Xander has a 'horrifying' vision of the future and sets out to see if it’s true or not.
Notes: Mostly fluff and funnies, some angst. Written for the first round of the Choose Your Author Ficathon..
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
Disclaimer: I don’t own these characters, just borrowing them for awhile. Everything belongs to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whomever else they really belong to, although I wouldn’t mind having a Spike of my own. Who would? The story is mine, though.
Thanks: To Tammy, for the most excellent beta.
Written: August 5, 2004
Part One
Xander had been drinking for three days straight now, and he was nowhere near ready for sobriety. His life was in shambles, his emotions in turmoil. While burying his head in the sand wasn’t his normal approach to life—something it was dangerous to do on the Hellmouth if you wanted to survive—on this occasion he thought he might be forgiven for doing so. Although, it wasn’t sand he was burying his head in at the moment, he thought with a bitter laugh as he took another swig of JD straight from the bottle, having given up two days ago on the glass now rolling around somewhere under the bed.
Because three days ago he’d left Anya at the altar. Dumped her. Broken her heart along with their engagement. The dismal future the demon had shown him was straight out of his worst nightmare. It had reeked of hopelessness and despair. It wasn’t the reason he’d called off the wedding, but it was the only excuse he’d been willing to acknowledge to himself, much less admit to Anya.
What he hadn’t told Anya was that the demon had shown him two visions of the future. One in which he and Anya lived a miserably unhappy existence as they strove for the American Dream and ended up turning into younger versions of his parents. Discontent, disillusioned, and dissatisfied with their lives, and with each other. And another, which had been closer to the future he’d hoped to have with Anya, and in which he was extremely happy. The unfairness of it all made his chest tighten and his eyes burn.
Xander closed his eyes and let his memories of the second vision run through his mind. Despite the joyous atmosphere pervading that vision, it felt like an assault. And it seemed that no amount of alcohol would clear it from his brain. He kept telling himself that the demon had lied. He knew that the demon’s purpose had been to hurt Anya for her part in ruining his life, but he could still see the bright, cheery images, could still sense the delight he’d felt in just being alive, and in love. It was so ironic he could scream.
Even with his long and deeply held fear of turning into his father, the vision of his future with Anya might not have seemed so dire if it hadn’t been viewed side-by-side with the other, happier future. Or so he told himself.
For three days he had tried to drink his memories away, but he’d been tremendously unsuccessful. He’d reminded himself of all the reasons the vision had been a load of crap; a lie of monumental proportions. He’d even made lists. Lots of them if the crumpled balls of paper scattered about the bed were any indication. He picked one of them up and un-balled it, groaning when he read the words he’d printed there. No wonder he’d crumpled it up and threw it away.
To show how low he’d fallen, he’d even considered asking Willow to perform a spell that would make him forget, but then he remembered how well that had turned out last time, only belatedly recalling that Willow had sworn off magic entirely.
Xander knew he wouldn’t be able to just return to his life as if nothing had happened. He couldn’t pretend he hadn’t hurt Anya, and he would need to handle the fallout from that. Nor could he shake the residual feelings from the second vision. He loved Anya, but in the second future he’d been shown, he’d been in love. Deeply in love. And he’d known he was loved in return. He didn’t know how he knew, or how the demon had managed to make him feel those feelings, but he couldn’t rid himself of them. There was no white picket fence, no 2.5 children running around the house. No Anya, no Buffy, no Willow. But there had been smiles, and laughter, and love. And he wished he could gouge the images out of his brain.
Christ, he needed a shower! He stank like his father after a three-day binge, and that was the only thing that got him to put the bottle down and stagger to the bathroom. He needed to shower and go home, deal with the mess he’d made of his life, and decide what to do about the vision. He crumpled the piece of paper on which he’d drunkenly scrawled ‘Spike luvs Xander’, going so far as to dot the ‘i’ with a heart, and tossed it back onto the bed.
When he pulled into the parking lot and slid into his reserved spot, his first thought was that he wasn’t ready to confront Anya. His second, that he’d probably lost the deposit on his tuxedo. He gripped the steering wheel tightly in both hands, working up the nerve to go up there and see her.
“She’s not there,” someone said directly into his ear.
Xander screamed like a girl. His head twisted around and his whole body jerked while his heart dropped to his stomach and then slammed back into place. “Good...god...Buffy!” He rubbed his chest. He’d been so tense, he thought he pulled something. And he now knew how you could literally scare someone to death.
She looked him over critically. “You look craptastic.”
“Thanks.” He glanced back at the apartment building. “How do you know she’s not in there?” he asked worriedly. “Some Slayer superpower?”
“Yeah.” Buffy pointed to her eyes. “I saw her working at the Magic Box with my x-ray vision. And heard her with my supersensitive hearing. She said something about the smell of money making her feel better.”
“Oh.” That meant he had a bit of a reprieve.
“Plus, she moved out,” Buffy added.
“Oh. She did? How do...?”
“I got to help!” she replied with faked cheer. “Because, she reminded me, several times, that she’d helped me move into my dorm room, and then back home a week later. A year and a half ago,” Buffy added dryly.
Xander winced. Anya’s tact left a lot to be desired. It was one of the things he’d loved about her. Funny how the two women he’d dated had both been outspoken and blunt. Just like Spike.... “Ack, no!”
“Xander? Are you all right?” Buffy asked worriedly.
Xander ignored the question. “You’re sure? That she’s gone, I mean?” That gave him even more of a reprieve, which was good, but it also meant that he had more time to stew and put off seeing her, which would probably only make things worse, so, bad.
“Positive.”
“And she’s really not coming back?”
“I’m pretty sure she’s not, if the tears and curses are any indication. That girl really knows how to curse!” Buffy sounded impressed.
“Yeah, she can swear with the best of them,” Xander agreed distractedly.
“No, I mean real curses, like boils-on-penis curses,” Buffy corrected much too casually for Xander’s peace of mind as she unlocked the car door and opened it.
“Curses?” he yelped, one hand going protectively to his groin while he watched Buffy press the button that put his window up.
“Thank your lucky stars that she’s not still a vengeance demon,” Buffy said as she pulled Xander from the car. “She has quite the imagination, our Anya,” she added, sounding way too impressed.
“What? She can’t do that! Can she? Isn’t that cheating?” His legs were still a bit wobbly and he stumbled. Buffy steadied him, and then grimaced.
“You smell like a distillery.”
“I was on a mission,” Xander responded.
“To drink every bottle of liquor in Sunnydale?”
“To for-forget.” He sniffled and wiped his eyes. God, he couldn’t cry now. Not in front of Buffy.
“Xan—.”
“Can we not talk about this now?” he interrupted.
“Sure, but when you need to....”
“Yeah, thanks, Buff.”
She looked unconvinced.
“Really, I will. Just...not now. I can’t....” He lost the battle against the tears he’d been fighting back. “My life sucks! Everything’s all screwed up!”
Buffy held him while he cried like a big girl, and then took his keys and locked the car up before leading him to his apartment.
Despite being plied with aspirin and water before being put to bed, Xander woke up with a splitting headache. Buffy had offered to return his tux—which she’d picked up as if it had been dipped in a toxic chemical—and see if she could get his deposit back. She also offered to let everyone know he’d returned home safely. Xander wasn’t sure he was ready for that, but his friends didn’t deserve to worry about him unnecessarily, and so he didn’t say anything.
He rolled over and blindly reached for the glass of water Buffy had left on his bedside table. He drank half down in one go and finished the rest with the two aspirin lying there. He’d drunk enough to dehydrate a football team, and he was feeling it. Xander took a moment to thank Buffy for thinking to close the curtains against the bright morning sunlight before burrowing back under the pillows.
The next time he woke up, Xander felt almost human. He staggered to the bathroom and splashed his face before cupping water into his hand to drink. His mouth was dry and tasted like a sewer. He brushed his teeth while he stood over the toilet, and then examined his reflection in the mirror above the sink while the water heated for his shower. His face was pale with dark circles around bloodshot eyes, and his lips were chapped. Even after a full night of sleeping it off, he still looked like hell. He combed his fingers through his hair and wished he could fix his life as easily as he could wash away the effects of his three-day drunk.
Showered and dressed, Xander looked through his cupboards for something to eat that wouldn’t make his stomach revolt. He considered a bowl of cereal until he got a whiff of the milk. That meant no PB&J sandwich, either. Keeping his sensitive stomach in mind, he settled for washing a granola bar down with a glass of water.
He sat on the couch and stared out the sliding glass doors. There were things he needed to do, but he wanted to put off facing reality as long as he could. He wondered if he could just stay holed up here in his apartment until next Monday when he needed to be back to work. He didn’t want to have to face Anya or his friends. He most definitely didn’t want to face Spike.
The memory of the vision made his stomach churn. He briefly wondered if some hair of the dog was in order, then resolved that was a slippery path he really did not want to start down. He knew he needed to speak with Anya before anyone else so he could clear the air with her, apologize, beg her to forgive him and please not curse his genitals, and he preferred to do it without an audience, so he decided to go to the Magic Box and get that over with. He swallowed hard. Yep, anytime now he’d get up and do that.
The interior of the Magic Box was cool and dim. He heard the soft murmur of Giles’s voice as he discussed the merits of eye of newt versus a less expensive substitute. Xander looked around for Anya, but didn’t see her. She wasn’t standing behind the cash register as he’d expected. He walked slowly down the steps, heart pounding at what was sure to be an unpleasant meeting.
Anya suddenly bustled up from the basement. “Sorry to keep you waiting,” she said breathlessly, as if she’d rushed after hearing the door bell jingle, and set the box of inventory she’d retrieved down on the counter without looking up. “How can I help...” She glanced up at him. “...you?”
Xander waved nervously. “Hey.”
“Xander.” Her voice was cold, pinched, and he could tell she was trying to hide her pain.
Giles’ voice paused briefly before continuing.
“Anya. Can we talk?” He stuffed his hands into the front pockets of his pants.
“About what? Because I’m not taking you back after you left me at the altar in front of our family and friends, Xander,” she declared.
Xander’s mind boggled. He knew it would be dangerous to tell her that wasn’t what he wanted to talk about, so scrambled to think of a reply that would keep his privates boil-free.
“You’re right to feel that way,” he said truthfully. “What I did was...unforgivable. But I hope you’ll be able to forgive me one day, anyway.” Anya looked away from him and sniffled. He swallowed hard and continued. “I know it doesn’t make it any easier, but I never intended to hurt you. And I’m sorry that I did.” He’d broken into a fearful sweat. “Please don’t curse me!” he begged.
“I’m very angry with you, Xander,” Anya stated.
“I know.” He just hoped she wasn’t angry enough for the boils. Or worse!
“You hurt me.”
“I know.”
Her eyes were downcast. “I don’t know if I can, Xander. I need time to think....”
“Time, yes, okay. As much time as you need!”
“Being human sucks.”
Xander didn’t know what to say to that. He just hoped it didn’t mean she was wishing for her vengeance powers back.
“Excuse me,” Giles said, interrupting them. “Anya, Mrs. Culver is ready to check out. Can you...?”
“Of course!” Anya quickly said, hiding her pain behind a mask. Nothing got her moving faster than Giles suggesting he might go near the cash register.
“Xander,” Giles greeted him softly.
Xander glanced up at the other man. “Hey, G-man,” he responded, subdued.
“How are you?”
“Fine,” he replied.
Giles stared at him thoughtfully. “Hmmm,” he finally said. “Why don’t I make a cup of tea and you can tell me how you really are?”
“No, really, I’m fine,” Xander assured him as he followed Giles to the back of the shop. “I just.... How has Anya been?”
“How do you expect?” Giles asked, pausing in his tea-making.
“Yeah, that’s what I was afraid of,” Xander sighed.
“Are you ready to talk about why you called off the wedding?”
“No!” Xander yelped.
Giles raised an eyebrow at him. “Anya said something about a demon and a vision?”
“Oh.” Xander strove to slow his breathing and racing heart. “Yeah, that. Someone Anya had cursed during her vengeance demon days decided to repay the favor. It was, um, horrible,” he said. “I know it was a lie, but it felt so real.” Tears filled his eyes. “And I was afraid. What if that’s really my future?” he asked hopelessly, images of the second vision running through his mind like a slide show. The Spike and Xander from the vision laughing together, holding hands, kissing, and, heaven help him, making love. He wasn’t lying to Giles when he said it had been horrible.
Giles was rubbing his shoulder and speaking to him softly, but Xander didn’t hear the words. For a moment he floundered. He turned into Giles and rested his forehead on the other man’s shoulder. Giles lifted Xander’s head and looked into his eyes. “But the one thing I do believe, Xander, is that you will never turn out like your father. It’s just not in you.”
After his brief talks with Anya and Giles, Xander needed to get some air. He decided to drive over to UC Sunnydale and see if he could find Willow after her last class of the day. He realized he had some time to kill, so after parking he walked around the campus. It was a cool, brisk day, but that only served to help clear his mind. When Willow exited the red brick building, Xander was waiting for her at the bottom of the steps.
“Xander!” she greeted him with a smile, her voice holding equal measures of pleased surprise and concern. “Buffy said you were back. I’m glad you’re all right. What are you doing here?” she babbled as she grabbed his hand and continued down the sidewalk, pulling him away from the other students congregating near the entrance.
Xander shrugged. “Thought maybe we could talk,” he said, not really knowing what else to say. Or what exactly he’d tell her about what had happened. He just couldn’t see himself admitting to anyone that he’d been shown a vision about Spike. Even worse that the vision had him and Spike living ‘happily ever after’ and that it had freaked him out so much he’d called off the wedding. Yeah, he could imagine how well that would go over.
She led him to a bench and they both sat. He stared at his feet, and found himself wondering who did the lawn maintenance. He looked up and actually opened his mouth to ask that question, though he doubted Willow would know the answer, and saw her staring at him with big green eyes full of worry. She tried to smile, but it came out looking more like a grimace.
“Sorry I worried you,” he said, ducking his head and fixing his eyes on the tips of his worn sneakers.
There was a pause and he imagined all sorts of platitudes running through her head. Finally she said, “I’m just glad you’re okay. I mean, physically okay. ‘Cause it’s okay if you’re not emotionally okay. If you know what I mean,” she trailed off.
“Anya tell you about the vision?” he asked, figuring it was a safe bet that she had.
Willow nodded slowly. “Wanna talk about it?” she asked.
“No.” Xander shook his head. “Not really. I mean, it was all a lie anyway, right? Not real. We wouldn’t have turned out like my parents.”
“Xander,” she said, her tone sympathetic. She reached out and took his hand. “You know Anya and I weren’t...” She made a face. “...the best of friends. But you and she seemed to get along. It was like, you got her. I didn’t get her, but you did. I don’t think you would have turned out like your father, because you’re you. Plus, Anya wouldn’t have let you.”
Willow tried to grin, so Xander tried it too. It felt tight. Like it didn’t fit his face.
“It was a lie, right?” he asked, and he knew he sounded pitiful.
“Yeah, it was a lie. I’m so sorry that demon used you to hurt Anya. If I could, I’d turn him into a nasty ol’ frog for ya!”
The smile felt more natural this time. “Thanks, Will.”
Xander felt anxious as the time for meeting the gang at the Magic Box neared. They all knew he was back, and he’d spoken to each of them, except Dawn, but, awkward much? The wedding-that-wasn’t was going to be like the pink elephant in the corner of the room that everyone would pretend not to see. That is, if Anya was even there. Would she still attend research sessions and help them patrol? he suddenly wondered.
Xander pushed the door open with his butt, his hands full of peace offerings—donuts and lattes—and was greeted by a squeal from Dawn. “Xander! Buffy said you were back, but I wasn’t gonna believe it until I saw you for myself.” She skipped towards him.
“Doubting Dawn,” he teased.
She wrinkled her nose and smiled at him. “Oooh, donuts! Here, let me help you carry those.” She grabbed the box of donuts and he changed his grip so he didn’t drop the drinks.
“Hey, Xan!” Buffy called as she stepped into the shop from the training room. “What did ya bring?”
“Stupid Slayer senses,” Dawn muttered, and then said louder, “Donuts, but I get first pick.”
Giles appeared out of the training room and Willow arrived shortly thereafter. A surreptitious look around told him that Anya wasn’t there. They all settled around the research table, eating, drinking, and discussing what it was they should be researching. Everyone tiptoed around the topic of the disastrous wedding. And then the door slammed open and Spike strode in as if he owned the place.
“Well, well, well,” he said as he sauntered down the steps, “if it isn’t the missing groom.”
“Shut up, Spike,” everyone hissed.
Xander didn’t speak. He couldn’t move. His back was to the vampire, but he’d felt the energy in the shop change when he entered, as if he’d been near an electric charge. Instead of grating on his last nerve, the sound of Spike’s voice had sent shivers down his spine. The vision spun through his head and he felt like he was having a flashback. The moment seemed to play out forever for Xander, but when he looked up, Spike had just reached the table, his duster still swirling about his legs.
“If I can’t make fun of Harris, my night is ruined,” he commented theatrically. “Got any beasties I can kill instead?” He clenched both hands into fists and grunted, adding a little hip roll.
Xander’s eyes rolled back in his head and he got hard.
Xander was mortified. In fact, he’d been living in a constant state of mortification since last night. Buffy had coolly blown Spike off, which Xander found odd, since it had seemed for a while there that Spike was Buffy’s new best friend, always off patrolling together, trusting the vampire to protect her sister.... Okay, oddly enough, that sounded like jealousy talking. But was he jealous of Spike...or Buffy? That did not bear thinking about.
He’d remained hard for a full thirty minutes after the vampire left the shop. No one knew, but he was still considering jumping off his balcony to save himself from the distress he was experiencing. Except the fall would probably only maim him, rather than kill him, and he really didn’t want to deal with the pain, the traction, the embarrassment of not being able to do even that right. So no one could ever find out that the sound of Spike’s voice had aroused him, and the sight of the vampire pumping his hips as he grunted had made him hard. No one. And he had to stop thinking about it. Which he would do. Any time now.
Not wanting to think about Spike, or Anya, Xander considered vegging in front of the television until research that night, but then he took a good look at the apartment. It wasn’t trashed, exactly, but there had been a lot of people in and out before the wedding, and then Anya had packed, leaving things in a bit of disarray. He decided to expend his energy in a positive way by cleaning the apartment. Plus, he hoped it would keep him from thinking about Spike.
Once the apartment was spic and span, he’d taken a shower and a short nap, and then put on the baggiest pair of pants he owned before heading to the Magic Box. Looking like a hand-me-down reject was less embarrassing than the thought that he might get an erection he couldn’t hide. To Xander’s relief, Spike didn’t show up for research that night, and if he felt a twinge of disappointment he told himself it was heartburn.
By the time Monday rolled around Xander was feeling more himself. He felt like his life was his again, rather than fitting him like a secondhand coat. Things had gotten back to normal—lunch with Buffy Friday before she had to go to work, movies snuggled up with Willow on his couch Saturday night, research and patrol, and playing cards with Dawn over top the books they were supposed to be using for research on Sunday. He was glad to be going back to work, though he knew he’d probably take some razzing from the guys about calling off the wedding.
A week had gone by since he’d returned home, and Xander had only seen Spike twice. He was feeling pretty proud of himself when he went to the Magic Box that night, only to find himself in the middle of battle preparations. Willow was tapping away at her laptop, and she stopped only long enough to give him a small smile. Giles was standing over Buffy in the training room, reading a passage from one of his books aloud while she pulled weapons out of the chest and made sure they were sharp.
“What’s up?” he asked.
“Demon,” Buffy replied.
As that looked like all the information he was going to get, he asked, “What can I do?”
“Find the sheath for that sword.” Buffy pointed, and then looked up at him and gave him a weary smile. “And then we wait for Giles to tell me how to kill it.”
“Sounds like a plan.”
Before Giles figured out how to kill it, Spike burst through the door to announce that there was not one, but three demons marauding about Sunnydale.
Buffy turned expectantly towards her watcher. “Giles?”
Giles didn’t fluster at the startling information, merely flipped one of his books open to the page he’d marked and turned it so Spike could see the image. “From Buffy’s description I’ve determined that the demon was probably a Gor’lak, but the picture doesn’t match the demon she saw. Did you recognize them?”
Spike barely glanced at the picture. “They were Gor’lak.” He tapped the image of a dark green-skinned demon sprouting two long, curved horns from its skull with his index finger. “This one’s a mature adult. Can tell by the color and size of its horns. The three I saw were young. Probably visiting the Hellmouth for their harsh’na.”
“A coming of age ritual,” Giles breathed. “Of course.”
“Giles?” Buffy reminded him of the urgency.
“Oh, sorry. Yes, well, the usual. Decapitation, a sword through their heart...”
“Which is on the right side,” Spike added as he moved quickly towards the front of the shop, an axe in his hand that Xander hadn’t even seen him grab. “Comin’, Slayer?”
Buffy glared at Spike, and then armed herself.
“They’re going to be ferocious, Buffy,” Giles warned her. “They’ve come to the Hellmouth to prove they’re men now...er, or rather, the demon equivalent of the human adult male, not that.... Anyway, killing a Slayer would certainly be a boon, so do be careful.”
“I will Giles,” she said distractedly. Buffy looked at him when he got up to stand beside her, weapon in hand. “Xander....”
“I’m going with,” he forestalled her objection. There was no way he was letting Buffy go out there without more than Spike backing her up. Or so he told himself.
Spike was pacing the sidewalk impatiently, a cigarette between his fingers. “‘Bout time!” he complained when they stepped out of the Magic Box. He ran frosty eyes over Xander. “Bringin’ a chaperone?”
“Shut up, Spike,” Buffy hissed, and began walking. “Where did you see the demons?”
Spike glared at Xander. “Try to keep up, Harris,” he snarked as he turned away and followed Buffy. “And out of the way. Got better things ta do than babysit you.”
Xander wasn’t sure what had just happened, but he was being left behind. He ran after them, catching up in time to hear the tale end of Spike’s brush with the demons. He tried to concentrate on walking, rather than on the vampire stalking through Sunnydale before him.
Spike led them to where he’d run into the Gor’lak. They were no longer there, but Xander could tell that they had been. He shuddered at the headless body of a demon laying on the blood-soaked ground. “Wh-what happened?” he asked.
“Took a trophy, didn’t they?” Spike said with a smirk at Xander’s obvious discomfort. He turned away and scented the air, and they followed him as he followed the trail of the three Gor’lak.
They stumbled across two more fresh kills before finding the young Gor’lak in the middle of collecting their fourth trophy. One Gor’lak stood tall, twisting its big head around to stare at them. Their leathery hide was a light green color and their horns were just little nubs on the top of their skulls, which is why Buffy and Giles had trouble finding a match in Giles’ books.
It gnashed its teeth and snarled something to its fellow demons in a language Xander didn’t recognize as it eyed up Spike. Could’ve been a demon tongue, or Latin for all he knew. The demon then turned to Buffy and its visage took on an expression of excitement that seemed to indicate he’d recognized her as the Slayer. It finally turned its attention on Xander, something he could have done without. It roared, and though he couldn’t understand the words, he was pretty certain it had just said something along the lines of, ‘Dust the vampire, kill the Slayer and take her head, and that one’s for dinner.’
Spike didn’t wait for the demons to make the first move, and soon he and Buffy were trading blows with them. None of the demons carried weapons except for the bloody daggers they’d obviously used to messily decapitate their victims. Xander stood with the short sword he carried clenched in his hand and watched for an opening.
Buffy fought with economical movements, striking with deliberate, practiced moves. Spike, on the other hand, was like a whirlwind. He fought with a flourish that reminded Xander of a dance; slashing, leaping, and then twirling to slash again. One of the demons landed a blow that Buffy hadn’t been able to block, and the strength of it knocked her to her knees. While she was catching her breath the demon prepared to strike.
Xander jumped forward, bringing the sword around with both hands, and slashed the demon’s softer hide over its belly. The demon howled its displeasure and brought its arm around, preparing to strike a blow that would have crushed Xander’s skull. Just before the blow landed, Spike’s axe whistled through the air and cut the arm off above the elbow. After a moment of not realizing its arm was missing, the demon wailed mournfully.
Xander, who’d still been struck by the demon’s blow, landed on his ass, the demon’s twitching hand in his lap. With a little shudder and a disgusted whimper, he tossed the arm away from himself, and then crab crawled away from it. He looked up in time to see Spike gleefully hacking at two of the demons while Buffy handled the third.
Despite his brush with death and being totally grossed out by the arm leaking a purplish-colored ichor that stunk to high heaven, Xander couldn’t take his eyes off the beauty that was Spike during a fight. The vampire was nimble, graceful, and he was talking the entire time he fought. Xander couldn’t help but once more compare Spike’s moves to a dance. He slowly got to his knees and found the sword he’d dropped when he went flying, just in case his meager assistance was needed again.
Suddenly the fight was over; all three demons lay dead at their feet. Knees. Spike was laughing as if he’d just had the greatest fun. There was blood on his chin, and he reached up, wiping some off with his thumb, and then bringing the thumb to his mouth. Xander watched Spike lick his thumb, and then stick it into his mouth and suck on it.
Instead of disgust, he felt a warm tingle between his thighs that spread to the rest of his body, and was thankful he’d worn the really baggy pants tonight. When Xander remained frozen in place, Buffy came over and helped him stand, thinking he was more injured than he was. Xander had an hysterical moment when he wondered what he’d say if she noticed his hard-on. Thankfully, he wasn’t tested, and they made it back to the Magic Box with no further incidents.
On Friday night Xander met Willow and Buffy at The Bronze. Dawn was spending the night with Tara, and Buffy thought it would be good to get Willow out of the house so she didn’t mope. After taking a turn on the dance floor, he returned to their table for a well-deserved drink, leaving the two girls gyrating to the loud music without him. He wasn’t sure where either of them got their energy from. He lounged back in his seat and nearly choked on his beer when he saw Spike strut in.
Despite the black-on-black look, Spike reminded him of Danny from the movie ‘Grease’. He couldn’t take his eyes off the vampire, watching avidly as he pushed his way to the bar, leaned both elbows on it, and ordered a drink, coolly brushing off the people around him who tried to strike up a conversation.
Xander hadn’t gotten a lot of sleep since the botched wedding, and he was in no mood to see Spike. He’d thought, a little drinking, good times with friends, boogieing with his girls.... His plans for the evening had not included pretending to ignore Spike while he soaked up the vampire’s presence.
Spike shouldered his way through the crowd with equal parts charm and snark, and made his way to the pool tables across The Bronze. He approached a large bear of a man who was leaning on his pool stick as he watched another man take his shot, and they greeted each other with an elaborate handshake. Spike pulled a handful of quarters from his jeans pocket and lined them up on the edge of the table, and then proceeded to chat and drink until it was his turn to play.
Xander couldn’t pull his eyes away from Spike, who he’d never seen like this before—he was actually enjoying himself, and he wasn’t killing anything! The only people he knew Spike hung with was, well, them, but they’d made it pretty clear they didn’t want him around. He shouldn’t be surprised then, that the vampire had found other things to do, made other friends. What? Had he really expected that Spike sat alone in his crypt just waiting until they needed him?
The girls came back and they chatted for a while, but Xander’s attention drifted back to the pool tables where Spike was leaning one hip against the table, cue stick held between his legs as he flirted with the waitress who was handing him another beer. He watched Spike’s eyes slide over the waitress’s body when she turned to walk away, and then he smirked when the guy he’d originally spoken with slapped him on the back and mouthed something Xander couldn’t hear.
“We’ve gotten our second wind, so we’re going back out,” Buffy said as she and Willow stood. “Join us?”
“Oh. No, thanks,” Xander said, whipping his head back around. “You go ahead. I’ll just veg here for a few minutes. Crowd watch. Drink. Contemplate my idiocy,” he added when he realized he was starting to babble.
“No contemplating tonight, Xander!” Buffy admonished with a smile and a waggle of her finger.
“Okay, nix that one,” he agreed, feeling a little punchy. “Just drinking and watching, then.” He forced his eyes to stay on the girls until they’d turned away and disappeared into the teeming mass of bodies. For the hell of it, and to show that he wasn’t completely under Spike’s spell, he took a drink of the beer warming in his plastic cup before turning his head slowly, deliberately, towards the pool tables.
Spike had moved away from the table to give his opponent room to shoot. He raised the beer to his mouth, tilted his head back, and took a swig. Xander reached beneath the table to adjust himself while he watched the vampire’s throat work as he swallowed, watched the way his lips fit around the mouth of the bottle as he pulled the beer out of it.
“Oh, god,” he groaned.
Spike turned, looked the pool table over, and then set the bottle down on the edge. He bent over and lined up his shot, then shifted his legs. Xander was breathing heavily, and he forced himself to look away. Christ, what was wrong with him? Despite the stupid vision, he didn’t even like Spike. He glanced back over to see Spike prowling around the table as he picked his next shot. He imagined the vampire circling him that way, predator and prey, and moaned.
“You all right, Xander?” Buffy asked.
Xander’s focus immediately rocketed back to the table where Buffy and Willow were just pulling out their chairs. “Uh, yeah,” he said, picking up his cup and draining it to have something to do with his hand. “You’re back quick. I was, um, just thinking I should have gotten a refill before you got back.” He gestured towards the empty pitcher with his equally empty cup.
“Oh. That’s no problem.” Buffy looked around. “There’s the waitress. I’ll go order.”
“Oh, hey!” Willow said as Buffy slipped away. “Did you know Spike was here?”
“Really? Where?” Xander asked, his voice coming out strangled.
Xander was in Hell. Not just Hell, but the deepest, fiery pits of Hell. The whole evening was a blur, and all he could remember was bits and pieces, mostly having to do with Spike. As the evening drew to a close, he watched surreptitiously as Spike left the pool tables and headed over to the dance floor. Xander had felt the heat before, but now it ratcheted up to inferno.
Spike bounded onto the dance floor without a partner, but he wasn’t alone for long. He set himself up in the middle of the floor and women flocked to him like moths to the flame. Xander didn’t know if the queasy feeling in his gut was fear that they were going to get burned, or jealousy because he wasn’t.
The vampire almost looked like he was putting on a show for someone, and Xander’s chest clenched in a moment of panic, thinking that Spike had noticed him looking. He realized that was ridiculous—even if Spike saw him looking, he wouldn’t think there was anything sexual in it—and took advantage of the view he had.
Buffy returned with a full pitcher and refilled their glasses. Xander gulped half of his down. When he looked back up, Spike was getting down and dirty with a redhead who had short, spiky hair and who was wearing a white leather vest with nothing under it. Xander started choking on his beer when a man with a shaved head, a tattoo on his biceps, and a hoop in his ear stepped up behind Spike and cupped his ass.
He waved off Willow and Buffy’s concern and pretended to listen to their conversation while he stole glances at the dance floor. Watery eyes grew wide when the man slid his hands around to Spike’s hips and moved into him until ass met groin. Xander expected Spike to haul off and hit the guy, and then remembered the chip. But the vampire didn’t even pull away and snarl. Instead, Spike leaned back into the touch and pulled the girl with him, and then tilted his head back and said something that made the man laugh and the girl blush as they both looked her over.
Xander whimpered and grabbed himself to keep from shooting in his jeans. He didn’t know if it was the fact that Spike wasn’t adverse to getting up close and personal with another guy, the image his mind conjured up of the girl and guy making a Spike sandwich, or the way Spike’s face lit up when he smiled. The same way he’d smiled at Xander in his vision.
“I, um, I need to get going,” he squeaked. There was no way he could sit here and watch Spike dance, or worse, imagine him naked, without blowing his load. “L-long day. Tired. Can I give you girls a ride home, or do you want to hang?”
Buffy checked Xander’s watch. “I should patrol,” she sighed. “Can you give Will a ride home?”
“Sure.” He smiled at Willow, who smiled back a little tipsily.
Xander barely remembered dropping Willow off, or the drive to his apartment. He raced up the stairs, unwilling to wait for the elevator. As soon as the door was shut and locked behind him, Xander fell back against it, opened his pants, and wrapped his fingers around his hard and aching cock. The memories of Spike tonight at The Bronze mingled with his memories from the vision, sliding sinuously against one another as they created a slide show in his mind.
Xander stroked himself harder and faster as images of Spike swirled through his head—bending over the pool table, kissing him, drinking a beer, smiling at him, dancing with the tattooed man’s hands on his ass, draped over Xander’s back as he slid into him.... His legs gave out and he slid down the door to his knees, thighs spread as he pulled himself to completion, spilling his release over his hand and the floor.
Continued in Part Two
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