All About Spike - Plain Version
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Summary: Spike and Xander run into a little trouble on a routine patrol the
summer after Buffy’s death.
Disclaimer: Joss said I could. No, really. Okay, so he didn't so much as say,
"Beamer, write this story." as much as he said "yeah, fans
should write fanfic now that Buffy is over." so, I'm a fan, and I wrote
this. I don't own a single part of it, except the cheesy Big 80's compilation
CD that inspired it.
Feedback: Come on, stroke my fragile ego. Circe242@hotmail.com
Author's Note: Thank you Green and Kes for the incredible beta work, and not making
too much fun of my stupid typos. Thank you Circe and Miss Murchison for the
Author’s Note part deux: I blame it all on Tommy
Happy Birthday, Saussy.
Spike and Xander are
the kind of running that Xander would describe as ‘hell bent for leather’, even
though he has no idea what that really means. It’s just something he heard some
place, maybe in a movie, and he thinks it sounds cool. Thinks it describes this
kind of running perfectly, but what they’re really doing is running for their
There’s a demon hot on their
tails. Xander would like to say he knows what kind of demon it is, but he’s not
really sure. He didn’t stick around to examine it after it swatted at Spike,
sending him flying twenty feet through the air - limbs flailing and leather
duster flapping - into the dumpster behind the Double Meat Palace. He has no
desire to come face to face with a creature that strong. What he does know is
that this thing - whatever it is - it’s ugly. Real ugly. As in, U.G.L.Y,
You ain’t got no alibi ugly. Far worse than anything he’s ever seen in his
entire life, and seeing as he was born right smack dab in the middle of
Hellmouthville - that was saying something.
Spike’s in front of him,
leading the way. As they twist and turn through some of the seedier alley ways
of Sunnydale, Xander hopes that Spike will find someplace to hide real quick,
because his lungs feel as though they’re going to pop any moment, and his legs
are screaming their dissent at this sudden outburst of marathon running. Just
when he doesn’t think he can run another foot, Spike takes a sharp turn and
bursts through a door, pulling Xander in after him. They run a few more feet
and the door slams heavy behind them. Spike takes a sharp left through another
door and shoves it closed nearly catching Xander’s foot in the process.
Xander tumbles head first
into a stall, nearly hitting his head on the toilet. Spike locks the latch
before leaning heavily on the door.
“What the hell *was* that
thing?” Xander asks once he gets his breath back enough to talk.
“Hell if I know,” Spike
says, panting unnecessarily. “Never seen one like that before.”
“Maybe it’s one of those
ones that came through when the portal opened,” Xander mumbles as he crawls out
of the bathroom stall. Spike says nothing, but his lips are pressed thin and
tight, and Xander thinks he might see a slight nod of acknowledgement. It’s a
touchy subject, and no one has healed enough to discuss it yet.
One look around lets him
know where they’ve ended up, and Xander knows he should move, because the floor
of the men’s room at Willy’s can’t be all that sanitary. Xander reminds himself
that he isn’t going to be eating off of it, so it doesn’t matter just what has
been spilled on this floor - besides, his legs don’t seem to want to work at
all right now, so he’ll just have to be content with the floor. He leans up
against the wall under the condom dispenser that seems so very out of place in
a bar whose major clientele are demons.
“Yeah, could be.” Spike
finally says absently. Xander only nods in silent understanding before leaning his
head back and closing his eyes to rest.
“You think it followed us in
here? Into Willy’s, I mean?” Xander asks after a silence long enough for Spike
to smoke three cigarettes.
“Nah. Coast is clear, I
think,” Spike says, standing upright. Xander pushes himself up off the floor,
dusting off. He watches as Spike flicks the sturdy deadbolt and pulls on the
door. He thinks about how nice it will be to get home to Anya, who is most
likely sound asleep seeing as it has to be well after midnight.
giving another hard yank on the door. “Fuck.”
Xander stands back, watching
curiously as Spike rocks forward and back slightly, his forehead banging on the
door. He knows exactly what this means,
but he’s not going to accept it. He refuses to accept that the door has somehow
been locked from the outside. He starts making wild plans to move to Egypt for
the remainder of his years, because he refuses to accept that he’s locked in
the bathroom at Willy’s with Spike.
“Kick it in,” he pleads.
“I can’t kick it in, you fucking
dunce.” Spike says through his teeth. “We are
in. I’d have to kick it out and there’s a three inch steel bar and two padlocks
that’ll break my leg before I even come close to kicking it down.”
Xander knows exactly what
Spike’s talking about, because he’s seen that kind of lock on the public
bathrooms in Braxton park that have been closed for as long as Xander can
remember. “Who the hell locks a bathroom from the outside?” he asks angrily.
His plan to live in denial is going down in flames.
Spike turns and leans back
against the door, allowing his head to fall back heavily.
“Willy,” he says, as if
that’s all the explanation Xander needs, and the only one he’s going to get.
Xander looks down at the
floor and contemplates his current situation. His thoughts wander again to
Anya, who is at this moment at home, warm and naked in their bed. He can’t help
but think about how there is nothing he wants more at this moment then to slip
in between the obnoxious pink and teal flowered sheets she so proudly brought
home from Bed Bath and Beyond, and then slide into her tight inviting body.
Instead, he has to do the one thing he was hoping to avoid for the rest of his
life - spend the night with Spike.
He groans in despair.
“Something wrong?” Spike
asks as he lights another cigarette, drawing heavily.
“Only I would escape the
ugliest demon to ever grace this dimension to be stuck over night with the most
“Could be worse,” Spike
states with a smirk, smoke curling around his head like an evil halo. “Could be
There are many different
ways Xander could be spending his Friday night, and being locked in the men’s
room of Willy’s isn’t one of them. Being locked in the john with a fidgety
vampire is even further from the top of the list.
“Spike!” Xander barks as he
watches the vampire pace in front of him for what Xander would say is the
hundredth time… if he were counting his undead companion’s laps around the
small room, which he’s not.
“Yeah?” Spike responds, but
he doesn’t stop. He continues following the course he’s set out.
“Spike, stop. You’re making
“Can’t stop,” Spike says,
almost off handedly. Xander knows there’s a reason hanging there, if only he’d
ask. But he won’t. He’s not going to do it. Isn’t going to give in and …
Xander sighs heavily as
Spike passes him again, and he asks, “Why can’t you stop, Spike?”
“Don’t like closed in
spaces,” Spikes replies with a shrug.
“Spike we’re in a bathroom…
a big bathroom for a seedy little dive bar.”
“Can’t get out though, can
I? Be fine if I had my smokes, but no… someone had to go and flush them.” He
states, his voice full of indignation.
“Don’t know where you’ve
been for the last 40 years, blood breath, but second hand smoke kills humans.”
“Not like a few hours of
breathing it is enough to char your lungs , ya wanker… or like you’re going to
be around long enough for it to make a difference. What with you living on the
hellmouth and all.”
Xander decides that it’s
useless to argue. It’s not as though Spike would care if Xander inhaled enough
smoke to give the cells of his body a reason to mutate and spread their cancer
all over his lungs. He decides to ignore the vampire who has just altered his
course into a figure eight and is mumbling something under his breath about
walls closing in… when the realization hits him, and he lets out a whoop.
“What of it?” Spike growls.
“Nothing... just a little
strange is all… shouldn’t be too shocked. Knew you were psychotic, guess I
shouldn’t be surprised to discover you’re neurotic too.”
“Not neurotic… just don’t
like it.” Spike says with a hint of a pout in his voice.
“Whatever,” Xander sighs,
not wanting to get any further into it, because Spike is looking and sounding
more human at this point than he ever has in the entire time Xander has had the
displeasure of his company. “Just stop pacing. Find something else to do.”
“I don’t know… go read the
graffiti on the wall or something. I don’t care. Just. Stop. Pacing.”
Spike brightens up, nods his
head a little, “Yeah… I could do that.”
It’s been over a year since
Spike had stayed with him in his basement, and Xander had forgotten just how
tiring Spike sitting could be. He sighs as Spike shoves the door to the first
stall open, certain that this little activity will give him at least 10
minutes, which is enough time for him to lull himself to sleep so he won’t have
to deal with it when Spike resumes his laps around the john.
“Azriel Glrrattcozth has
crabs,” Spike informs him with a chuckle, just as he is dozing off.
Xander groans, knowing he’ll
regret this but asks anyway. “Who’s that?”
“The barber over on Bishop
“Huh… wonder why some one
would write about him on a bathroom wall in a demon bar,” Xander puzzles,
closing his eyes again, hoping sleep will try and over take him again before
Spike starts up with more chatter.
“Cause he’s a demon.”
“What?” Xander says with
alarm in his voice. “Nah. He’s just an old man who runs the same barber shop
his grandfather set up when Sunnydale was founded.”
Spike’s voice has a slight
echo to it as it comes over the stall. “You mean the same shop he set up when Sunnydale was founded.”
“No way! He used to cut my
hair when I was a kid. He looks so human.”
“Not all demons are ugly
whelp, some of us are quite fetching.”
Xander can’t help but snort
at that. He’s about to say that every demon he’s ever seen looks as though
they’d gotten the beating of their lives from the ugly stick when he remembers
Anya, and although he has no idea what a vengeance demon truly looks like, Anya
is far from ugly.
“We have to remain human looking,” she had told him once when they had
talked about the day D’Hoffryn had come and offered her what she still refers
to as the ‘opportunity of a lifetime’. “No one really trusts strangers when
they’re scary and veiney, and that’s one of the first rules of good vengeance.
Gain their trust, so they’ll make a wish. That’s the problem with a lot of
vampires. They let themselves go. You can’t really lull someone into a false
sense of security if your clothes are gross and you have dirt in your hair from
when you clawed your way out of your grave. And have I mentioned the blood
underneath the fingernails? That’s
just bad personal hygiene. No one said good grooming had to end with death?”
“Got a pen?”
“A pen. You know, a writing
“I’m not going to help you
deface public property, Spike.
Spike’s blonde head pokes out
of the stall. “S’not public.” He tells Xander. “S’private. Belongs to Willy.
‘Sides, I’m not going to write anything on the wall. I want to write this
Xander pats his coat
pockets, finding a pencil he’d grabbed during his and Anya’s last trip to the
bowling alley. He tosses it to Spike who flashes him a gleeful grin before
ducking back into the stall. Xander’s not even going to ask, because even
though he knows that a guy has needs, there has to be a better way for Spike to
get laid than by calling a number found on a bathroom wall.
The door flies back,
slamming into the toilet paper dispenser as Spike strides out holding a slip of
paper out to Xander, grinning from ear to ear. Suddenly Xander is reminded of
the Cheshire cat - and look how well that turned out for Alice.
“Give this number a ring,
mate,” Spike says with a grin, shaking it in Xander’s face when he hesitates.
“Trust me, you won’t be sorry.”
“Spike, I happen to be in a
very happy and committed relationship.”
Spike looks at him blankly
in silence. Blinks once, then twice. “So?”
Xander’s flabbergasted, but
then again, what did he expect? Spike is morally bankrupt. Which is funny when
he thinks back to the conversation he had with Dawn just a week earlier about
how Spike is so unfair, with his ‘outdated Victorian values’ that kept her from
the most important social event of the summer - the Annual Skinny Dip In The
Sunnydale Municipal Pool, a time-honored rite of passage for Sunnydale High
students. Which is followed up with the post Annual Skinny Dip in the Sunnydale
Municipal Pool All You Can Eat Feeding Frenzy. Funny how no matter how many
kids die on their way home, the following year some group of idiots is going to
do it again.
Xander tried to explain this
was the real reason Spike put his
foot down and refused to let her go. It wasn’t outdated Victorian values at
all; he just wanted to protect her like the rest of them did.
Dawn had scoffed, “No. He just wants to make sure I make it into my
thirties without ever being felt up.”
“What she doesn’t know won’t
hurt her,” Spike says as he slaps the paper into Xander’s hand.
“Spike, she was a vengeance
demon for 1100 years. She can smell infidelity on a man a mile away.”
“Your loss,” Spike says with
a shrug, as he turns away.
Xander contemplates the
piece of paper for a moment, not because he’s thinking he might take Spike’s
advice - like that would ever happen - but because it’s a receipt from the sex
shop on Graver. He’s so stunned he can’t scold Spike, and tell him to stop
trying to jimmy open the condom dispenser. He’s not shocked that Spike
frequents an adult bookstore. After all, he and Anya have a preferred customer
card at Bernie’s Adult Emporium over on Addley Avenue. It’s the fact that Spike
actually paid for something that has
him so dumbfounded… until he notices he paid for it with Giles’ credit card.
The sound of tearing metal
fills the room and Xander looks up to see that Spike has succeeded in pulling
the door off the dispenser, but he doesn’t go after the money like Xander
thinks he’s going to do. Instead he pulls out the condoms, tears into one and
blows it up like a balloon, humming a senseless tune as he ties it off and
starts batting it around.
As long as he stays
Xander just shakes his head
as he looks back down at the credit card receipt. He’s expecting to see a
masculine chicken scratch that’s nearly impossible to read, but he’s astonished
to find that Spike has the most incredible handwriting he’s ever seen from a
guy. It’s small and loopy, looking old fashioned in a manner that makes Xander
think, ‘This is what they mean by good penmanship.’
He follows the slant of the
cursive, a grin creeping across his face as he catches the name and number for
the first time.
Jenny - 867-5309
“This isn’t a real number,
Spike.” He manages to get out before he’s completely incapacitated by laughter.
“Sure it is.”
“Spike this is a song.”
Xander says once he’s managed to control the laughter a bit.
“Yeah.” Spike’s response is
long and drawn out.
“Spike, it’s just a song
some guy wrote. It’s not even about a real girl.”
“Course she’s not a real
girl.” Spike snarks, standing in the middle of the bathroom, attempting to
juggle three condom balloons. “She’s a succubus.”
Xander chokes, “A succubus?”
“Yup. And a righteous shag
too. I met up with her in New Orleans, back in 83. Amazing stamina - rode me
for hours, she did. Sweetest fuck I ever had from a girl outside of Dru. She
really knows just what to do with a bloke’s cock. And tits… Mmm, bloody hell.
Tits like none other in the world - big, pert, succulent and ripe.”
Xander stares at Spike,
rapt. Watches as Spike’s face tells tales of ecstasy, and for just a moment - a
few seconds really, Spike isn’t some obnoxious undead thing that has tied his
best friend up in an attempt to make her love him. No, for just a few seconds
he’s the regular guy friend that Xander has always wanted, always hoped Oz or
Riley would have turned out to be. The kind of guy you can sit down with and
tell stories about conquests. He considers the number in his hand for just a
second before two of the condoms pop loudly as Spike gives them a sharp
Anya… They’re engaged.
There’s a twinge of guilt for having even thought about straying. He holds out
the receipt to Spike, trying to give it back. Better to not even have the
number. Because it would be just his luck that Anya would find it in his pocket
while doing the laundry, ands that’s a scenario that he doesn’t even want to
But Spike’s not even looking
at him anymore. His attention is focused on the wall above Xander’s head.
“Hello there.” He drawls.
“What are you looking at,”
Xander asks with a frown.
“The way out of here,” Spike
smiles as he crosses the room. “Give us a boost.”
Xander stands before Spike
steps on him. “What are you talking about?”
“The vent.” Spike says,
pointing, his voice full of snark.
Xander’s eyes follows
Spike’s finger, and sure enough, there’s a vent in the wall.
“Oh hell no.” Xander
affirms, “You’re even crazier than I thought if you think I’m going to help you
get out of here. You’d leave me here in a heartbeat - well, the same amount of
time it would take for a heart to beat if you had one.”
“I have a heart,” Spike says
defensively. “Just doesn’t work.”
“Whatever,” Xander says,
standing firm. “I’ll go through.”
“Right, like you could even
get your birthing hips through there.”
“I do not have birthing
hips,” Xander shouts in righteous indignation.
“No? Then what do you call
it? Middle Aged Spread at 21?”
Xander knows Spike is right.
He’d never fit through the vent, but how does he know Spike won’t find the way
out, and just leave him there?
“Have a little faith in me,
Harris.” Spike says with a pout and - oh god, he’s batting his eyelashes. “I’ll
just shimmy through, see if I can find a way out. ‘Snot like I can leave you
here, Nibblet would kill me if anything happened to her favorite pet monkey.”
He has a point there, and
it’s odd to think that his safety while with Spike actually lies in the hands
of a 14-year-old girl. He really has no choice but to concede.
“Fine,” Xander says,
sounding just a little bit disgruntled as he cradles his hands together to give
Spike a step up. “But be quick about it.”
Spike shucks the duster,
hanging over the door to one of the stalls. Xander can’t say that he blames him
either, after all he’s pretty sure it’s the most important possession Spike
owns. Spike steps into his hands and proceeds to rip the vent off the wall,
sending it clattering to the floor after it narrowly escapes hitting him in the
Once Spike boosts himself
through the vent, Xander takes a step closer and examines the coat for the
first time. It’s old - real old - the leather worn and soft. It’s in
surprisingly good condition considering all it must have been through - the
latest being a header straight into a dumpster. He tries to imagine the kind of
action this coat has seen over the years, wonders what sordid tales the coat
would tell if it could speak.
“Shit,” Spike curses from
the room next door. “It’s just a store room. Locked from the outside too.”
Xander deflates just a
little “Can you get back?” He calls.
“Yeah… if I move this keg
Xander can hear shuffling
and the sound of a keg hitting to floor heavily. A minute later, Spike’s head
pokes through the vent, and he’s grinning.
“I may not have found a way
out, but I found some friends,” he says before disappearing again. Xander only
has a second or two to wonder what Spike is talking about when Spike pops
through again, handing Xander two bottles. “Meet my friends Jack and Johnny.
Mighty nice blokes that know how to treat a man right.”
“Spike, this is stealing,”
Xander says, looking at the two bottles of booze he’s now holding.
“So?” Spike blinks after he
drops from the vent. “Oh that’s right, you’re a white hat. Never done anything
morally questionable in your entire life.”
He grabs the scotch out of
Xander’s hand and opens the bottle, drinking long.
Xander is sitting on the
floor next to Spike, open bottle of Jack Daniel’s half empty between his legs.
He’s laughing, quite hysterically.
“You expect me to believe
you’re the inspiration for Interview With a Vampire?”
“Don’t care what you
believe, but it’s the truth, mate,” Spike states, finishing up the bottle of
scotch. He lights another cigarette from the pack he’s stolen out of the
“Let me see if I got this
straight,” Xander snickers drunkenly. “You say you met up with Anne Rice… where
was it again?”
“San Francisco, 1975.” Spike
“Right,” Xander chuckles, as
he takes another slug from the bottle. “And the two of you had a drink.”
“More then one,” Spike
amends, snatching the bottle. “She was quite the sot back then. All depressed
because her brat had just gone toes up.”
“You’re all heart, Spike.”
“I do try,” Spike grins.
“’Sides, it’s not like she meant anything to me… just another drunken human
crying in her beer.”
Spike had a point there.
Xander knew he stuck around out of some strange deluded sense of duty. He’d
never admit it, but he was firmly aware that the vampire had truly loved Buffy.
But he didn’t want to think about that right now. Right now, he was drunk and
happy to laugh at Spike’s ludicrous stories.
“Spike, I happen to know for
a fact that Anne Rice wrote the book as a way to deal with her daughter dying
“Closet fan, eh?” Spike
snickers. “Anything else you’re hiding in the closet there, Harris?”
“Nothing about me is in the closet
Spike,” Xander says harshly snatching the bottle, angered by Spikes
insinuation. “And I’m not a fan at all. But after sitting next to Harmony
Kendal in seventh grade homeroom for a whole year, I know more than I ever
needed or wanted to know about Anne Rice.”
Spike roars with laughter.
“Harmony was more than vocal
on how Anne Rice had written Louis as a male persona for herself.” Xander
“Never said I was the
inspiration for Louis, ya sodding nonce.” Spike smirks as he crushes out his cigarette.
“You’re Lestat?” Xander
“Yeah. Both blonde blue
eyed, ain’t we?”
Xander chokes on the whiskey
he’s trying to swallow. “That’s how you got into Harmony’s pants, isn’t it?
Told her you were what Anne Rice was thinking of when she wrote Lestat.”
“Not difficult to get into
Harmony’s knickers mate, but no that’s not how. I told her that all that
rubbish about vampires being impotent was just that - rubbish.” He grabs the
bottle from Xander and takes a swig, waggling his eyebrows. “Then I showed her;
in many different ways and many different positions.”
Xander shudders at the
thoughts of Spike and Harmony naked and fucking that start to fill his mind.
*So* not the images he wants to have emblazoned in his brain.
“I don’t know where the bint
got the idea that vampires were impotent anyway.” Spike grouses. “Not as though
I didn’t give her first hand knowledge that we weren’t.”
Oh god… that was worse.
Xander takes another drink, a big one. He’s going to drink himself into a
stupor just so he wouldn’t have to remember any of this. He’d happily bow down
in prayer before the porcelain god tomorrow morning, just to ensure that this
night would remain one very big blur.
“Not surprised she can’t
remember though. She was quite drunk.”
“Okay, maybe you did meet up
with Anne Rice at one point.” Xander says. His tongue is getting heavy and he
slurs his words just a bit. “But really? And don’t kill me for this - but what
I have read and heard about Lestat, he really seems more to me like a blonde
version of Angelus.”
Spike scowls at him as he
lights up another cigarette, “So she got some of his finer exploits confused
with mine. Like I said mate, she was drunk.”
Xander just laughs, drinking
more. “Whatever you say Spike.”
“Okay, I fulfilled my end of
the bargain,” Spike tells him, lips curled in a smirk that could rival the
Grinch’s. “Your turn.”
“You asked me a question.
Wanted me to tell you if I had ever met anyone famous, said I could ask you
anything I wanted in return. So now it’s my turn.”
“Right. Guess it is. Ask
away, oh undead annoying one.” Xander lifts the bottle to his lips and drinks,
swallowing fast and hard, reveling in the burn as the liquid slides down his
throat. He winces at the leering look Spike is giving him. He has a feeling he
was going to need to be much drunker than this.
“Have you ever shagged a
Xander chokes, then coughs
so hard he thinks he may throw up.
“I’m going to take that as a
no,” Spike chuckles.
“I’m not gay!” Xander
sputters. This is bad. Very *very* bad. Suddenly he’s back in high school and
having to defend his sexuality to Larry. He’d have thought he’d grown out of
this. He was older now, mind a little more open. His best friend was gay, made
with the smoochies with girls now. He was big on the acceptance.
“Neither am I,” Spike states
nonchalantly as he takes the bottle away from Xander.
“You!? Oh man! But you’re
such… a…” Xander sputters, tripping over his tongue. He stumbles to find the
right word, because Spike has just dropped a bombshell on him, so you’ll have
to forgive him for being a little tongue-tied. “A guy!”
Spike chuckles. “So that’s
your problem, is it? Afraid that accepting a poke now and then might compromise
“No.” Xander spits out
defensively. “I’m very much a man. I’m very manly. Burly even.”
“Oh yes, you’re a macho,
“And don’t you forget it!”
Xander tells him pointedly.
Spike turns his way, and casts
a glance at him. He’s got his eyebrow raised and Xander thinks there might be a
grin just about to be born across that face of his. Twitch… twitch ah yes,
there is. The look is cool and confident and how can Spike be so calm about
this? It’s wrong; guys just don’t start talking to other guys about being butt
pirates like they’re asking you to pass the salt, and then expect everything to
“You’re so concerned with
masculinity that you’re not one bit bothered that I’m one who’s sounding reasonable,” Spike shoots at him, eyebrow
cocked like the hammer of a gun.
Spike has a point, and
Xander ponders this, the possibility of Spike being the voice of reason in this
situation and that is just wrong beyond all reasonable explanations of
wrongness. Suddenly the idea that Spike has taken it up the ass a few times
just doesn’t seem so disconcerting.
Nope, still of the bad.
“But you’ve… eew.” Xander
stutters. “With a… right. I suppose you’re going to tell me that you and
“Among many others,” Spike
shrugs before taking another drink.
Shock does not even begin to
describe what Xander’s feeling, because Spike… Angel. Spike and Angel together,
touching, and grunting and…. He was right; he’s going to need to be very drunk
to deal with this, just not for the reasons he thought.
“I think you’ve had plenty,”
Spike says as he holds the bottle out of Xander’s reach.
“I don’t think I’ve had
anywhere near enough to deal this information,” Xander protests. “I don’t think
there’s enough alcohol in all the world. My god you and Angel… that’s just
wrong. I cannot even begin to describe the levels of wrongness that this
reaches. He’s so straight! He slept with… Oh god. Did Buffy know?”
“Don’t imagine Soulboy felt
the need to tell her about his sexual past.”
“You and Angel,” Xander says
amazed and disgusted. “I can’t believe it. That you… No. It’s just wrong.
You’re not even gay!”
“It’s not about being gay.
Jesus, you humans are all so repressed,” Spike says with disgust as he drains
the bottle dry, setting to his side. “With you guys it’s all about black and
white. Gay and straight, good and evil.”
Xander just looks at him.
He’s finding the whole scene very disturbing.
“It’s sex for the sake of
having sex. That is all, nothing more, nothing less. It’s forgetting all the
rules and stricture handed down by people who were too afraid of what they felt
to just let it go and feel. It’s
about losing your inhibitions and accepting…”
“Hold it right there, fangless.
It’s not about accepting anything, except a guy’s dick up your ass.”
Spike snickers at this, and
Xander can tell he is enjoying this just a little too much.
“Well, yeah. But who else is
going to be able to give you what you need?”
“What are you talking
about?” Xander asks.
Spike sighs, running his
hand through his hair, letting it rest on this neck. “When Red told you she was
gay, what did she say about it? Did she tell you that Tinkerbell gave her what
she had never gotten from Dogboy? That she knew exactly what she wanted and how
to give it to her?”
Xander nods, unable to find
words to speak, because he can’t admit that this is happening, that he’s
talking about sex with Spike - let alone gay sex.
The problem is Spike is too
comfortable with this whole situation, like he talks about this all the time.
It’s all out in the open with him, and Xander doesn’t know if he can handle
this, even in his drunken state. Because the Scoobies just don’t talk about
sex. They fumble around it, embarrassed and stuttering, trying to find the
perfect words that will make them sound less like idiots. Except for Anya who
is blunt and forthright and has left Xander red faced on more than one
prattling on as though he can’t sense Xander’s discomfort, which he probably
can’t because Xander’s just realized he’s not as uncomfortable as he is
And things just keep getting
“Right, it’s because
Tinkerbell and Red have the same parts and they know their way around those
parts better than any man ever will. No matter how much time we spend
exploring, no man’s ever gonna know his way around them better than a chit.
“Same goes for a bloke. No
woman is ever going to know how to suck cock better than a man. There might be
some pretty fine cocksuckers of the female persuasion, but they’ll never be
able to do it better than a man.” He pauses, considering. “Not unless they’ve
had pretty extensive surgery and keep their bits and pieces in a jar under the
“Okay fine,” Xander says,
ignoring the stirring he feels in the pit of his stomach. “Lets say that’s
true. Men just weren’t designed to play receiver.”
“Oh?” Spike blinks.
“Bollocks. What about the prostate?”
“What about it?” Xander asks
“If men weren’t designed to
take it in the arse now and then, why is it so happy to take a prodding from a
Xander knows about it, has
listened to Anya go on ad nauseam about how many men find prostate stimulation
very pleasurable, but he doesn’t buy it. He’ll never understand.
Spike’s face is serious. “Do
you know what it feels like to have your prostate probed?”
“No.” Xander enunciates,
drawing it out. “Like I said before. Not gay.”
“And as I said. It’s not
about being gay,” Spike sighs in exasperation. “It’s always going to be about
gay and straight with you, isn’t it? I suppose you’re going to tell me you and
your bird have never buggered each other senseless.”
Against his better judgment,
Xander just shakes his head. He thinks back to the package Anya had brought
home from Bernie’s just a couple weeks ago, wanting to use it on him. He’d
refused, shoving the package to the back of the closet before she could even
try to talk him into it.
Spike leans in closely, his
lips almost touching Xander’s ear, and whispers. “It feels like your world is
going to implode and explode at the same time.”
Spike’s breathing in his ear
and his voice is thick and heavy. “You’re suddenly aware of things you’ve never
been aware of before, of feelings and sensations and sounds.”
A shiver runs down his
spine, and this is so wrong, because his cock should not be stirring.
Spike just needs to shut up
- that’s what needs to happen, but it woon’t, because Spike is going on about
hands being in places that no man’s hands should be unless he has the letters
M.D. after his name.
“It doesn’t have to be a
man, Harris. There are appliances that make it possible for women to give a
good buggering.” Spike tells him, and his
mouth is so close to his ear, and for just a millisecond Xander wants to
know what it would feel like for Spike to just stick his tongue out and lick.
“The point is, that it feels good. Feels good to give too. Better than a cunt.
Hotter ‘n tighter than any virgin.”
Xander swallows heavily,
very aware and very much in denial about how hard his cock is. Harder then he
thinks it’s ever been before, throbbing and tight inside his pants. Spike’s got
him in some kind of thrall. That has to be it. Like Dracula, only it’s his
voice that’s done it. Cause it’s like caramel and honey and maple syrup and
every other sweet sticky gooey substance that Xander has ever wanted on his
tongue. “The way you describe it...”
“Yeah,” Spike says, pulling
back. His tongue slithers out between his lips and licks.
“Rather show you,” Spike
rasps, and Xander bites his lip, and thinks he might even be nodding in
agreement. He knows he should be freaking out, because Spike is leaning closer
to him, nostrils flaring. But he’s so very drunk and so very horny and it’s taking
forever for Spike’s lips to reach his and there’s nothing he wants more in this
moment than to have Spike’s tongue in his mouth and his hands on his cock.
The sound of the door
splintering shatters the quiet of the bathroom, and before he can figure out
what has just happened, he’s got an arm and lap full of Anya.
“Is that for me?” She asks.
The look on her face lets him know that she’s discovered his hard on, and
flashes him a grin as she wiggles.
Xander nods as the blush
rises in his cheeks. Like Spike said earlier, what she doesn’t know, won’t hurt
Next to him Spike sighs and
stands up off the floor, dusting himself off before reaching for his duster.
“Seems as though the cavalry has arrived just in the nick of time.”
Xander looks up to see that
Giles and Willow have followed Anya into the bathroom.
“God, Xander,” Anya says
in-between frantic kisses. “I called Giles when I woke up and you weren’t home.
I was afraid that some demon had eaten you for dinner while you were
“Nothing happened to your
whelp,” Spike says on his way out the door, pausing briefly to light up a
cigarette. “Kept him safe as houses, I did.”
“We were already doing the
locator spell when he got to the house,” Willow explains. “Dawnie woke up and
kind of freaked when Spike wasn’t in his usual spot.”
Giles says, rubbing his temple looking very tired from lack of sleep, and maybe
just a little bit drunk. “I should think you might want to stop by the house
and let her know you’re okay before heading back to your crypt. I’ll give you a
Spike just nods. He casts a
glance Xander’s way, and nods before he quietly slips out the door.
Xander has only a moment to
try and puzzle out just what the look means before Willow is leaning over and
kissing him gently on the top of his head.
“I’m very glad you’re okay,
and no demons made you a Xanderkabob. You can tell me all about it tomorrow.”
She says before she follows Spike.
“Yes, it’s good that you’re
both well,” Giles agrees. “I shall be wanting a full report on tonight’s
Xander blanches, swallowing
hard. “Yeah. Sure. Full report tomorrow.”
“Oh Xander,” Anya coos as
Giles leaves. “I was so worried. If something had happened to you.”
“I’m fine Ahn,” Xander
assures her, kissing her softly.
“Was it horrible?” she asks
him softly. “I mean being stuck with Spike?”
Xander shakes his head,
refusing to think about what would be going on if the Scoobies hadn’t come to
the rescue. It was thrall, sinister vampire thrall. That’s his story and he’s
sticking to it. “Nah. He has some interesting stories.” He kisses her again.
“Let’s go home.”
He follows Anya out the door
and to his car parked haphazardly on the sidewalk. “Hey Ahn, you know that thing
you’ve been begging me to try?”
“You mean with the…”
“Yeah.” He swallows,
interrupting her before she can actually say it. “With the… that you brought
home from Bernie’s. I think I just might be up to it.”
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