Fic: Inescapable
I was watching parts of Him yesterday because despite the fact that I’m not supposed to like it because it’s misogynistic and whatnot, I kind of love it a lot. I love Xander for hating Spike and taking him in anyway, I love Buffy for mollycoddling her vampire, I love James Marsters for how tortured and miserable he looks, I love Buffy and Dawn’s bleacher conversation (the sisterliness…not the hand-waving about the soul bit), I love the bazooka scene, I love Xander and Spike working together, and I lovelovelovelovelovelovelove Anya and Willow’s “his physical presence has a penis!” argument (Alyson Hannigan and Emma Caulfield, y’all are brilliant and beautiful and I adore you).
However, I also always wonder about the bazooka scene and the fact that Spike is the one chasing Buffy because it seems like it could be a triggery situation for the characters. I understand why he does it, I love that he does it, and I think it’s probably intentional of the writers after Buffy’s ginormous flinch at the beginning. I don’t think the build-up to the scene would be as comical as the actual scene itself, though. Or maybe I just like angst and Xander and Spike interaction. In any case, I came up with a 1000-word ficlet. I’m not sure that I’m 100% satisfied with it, but if I ever get around to writing my early S7 Xander fic, I’ll probably get a better lock on his motivations and be able to edit this more then if I choose.
Title: Inescapable
Rating: R for one swear word and mentions of the AR
Setting: 7x06, Him
“Okay, I don’t know what Buffy’s planning, but we’re probably going to need brawn to stop her, and that means you.”
Xander’s rambling as he drives toward Sunnydale High at a much higher speed than he should, trying not to panic about what his best friends are doing, might have done already, trying to ignore the bitter fact that all of a sudden he needs Spike, the strange fact that he’s secretly relieved Spike is here, that he’s not the only male around. If the situation weren’t so dire he might laugh at the irony- or go into panicked hysterics.
“What do you mean?” says Spike in that new, quiet voice of his that tries to be neutral but can’t hide an undercurrent of bitterness toward the world.
“I mean I’m going to park and you’re going to run. If she puts up a fight, I can’t stop her.”
No, no Xander’s just a slightly overweight carpenter, no match for the Slayer. A vampire, on the other hand-
“No.”
Spike’s been so accommodating tonight, so not-the-anticipated-pain-in-his-ass that Xander thinks he’s misunderstood.
“No…?”
Silence for a precious few seconds before the low, pained answer that Xander automatically leans a little closer to hear: “I’m not attacking Buffy.”
Oh.
Spiteful words are on the tip of his tongue (Couldn’t have thought of that last May?) but Xander reins them in. It’s probably a good thing that the vampire has thought of this, but fuck if Xander is going to let him feel noble about it.
“It won’t be an attack,” he says through gritted teeth. “Not really.”
He got used to the fact that Buffy would always be stronger and faster than him years ago and it rarely wounds his pride, but now the almost-forgotten resentment flares up briefly. Not resentment toward Buffy, but resentment at the universe, at Spike, at himself for not working out more, eating a few too many cookies after dinner, for never being enough.
What is wrong with the world that he has to convince an attempted rapist to slightly manhandle his victim to stop said (out of her mind) victim from killing someone?
He thinks about telling Spike that he’ll try to reach Buffy first, but that sounds too much like comfort, so instead he says aggressively, because he can, “You’ll do it if you have to. Just get her weapon away from her. That’s all. No hitting her, no hurting her, and definitely no pinning her down-”
He breaks off, aware he’s teetering on the line, close to breaking the detente that’s been working so well all evening. Discomfort roils in his stomach. Spike stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched. Even in profile, it’s easy to see his eyes are blank, dead.
“You’ll be able to do that locator spell, Will?” says Xander, just to break the silence.
“Yes.” There’s the teensiest edge of resentment in Willow’s voice, the smallest pause before she speaks, and when Xander glances in the rearview mirror he sees her wince and rub her temple, trying to clear her cloudy mind, work past the love spell.
It’s a testament to how effortless the peace had been earlier in the evening that Spike is sitting shotgun, that Xander didn’t think to relegate him to the backseat once Willow joined up.
He finally pulls into the school parking lot, tires screeching, and his heart jumps into his throat as he scans the grounds.
“There she is!”
Xander’s surge of relief at finding Buffy quickly turns into horror as he registers what his friend is carrying.
“Is that a bazooka? Where the hell did she find a bazooka? Is that the same one-”
Never mind, never mind, priorities, he has them, the principal, oh god-
Luckily, his feet are well ahead of his brain and already moving out of the car. He tries, he really does, puts on a burst of gut-hurting speed like he did when he ran the mile in high school, when he could pretend for seven minutes that he was an athlete because seven minutes was all it took.
But he’s not fast enough, and the thought of wresting that bazooka from her is laughable-
“Go, Spike, run!”
Spike’s out of the car, but he doesn’t move, only stares at Buffy, wide-eyed, and Xander finds himself bellowing-
“I don’t care about your guilt or conscience or whatever! How do you think Buffy will feel if she wakes up from this spell and realizes she’s killed the principal?”
There’s an instant before Spike takes off running across the pavement when his dead eyes come briefly to life again. Xander thinks he sees terror. Self-loathing.
Good.
For a moment, before he feels stirrings of guilt because now he’s wondering how Buffy will react (remembers her spasm in his apartment when Spike touched her, hates the idea that this could trigger something, hopes the spell will dull her memory as it has her judgment), Xander feels vindictive pleasure in the fact that the vampire is suffering while being useful.
It’s not until later, after Anya casually comments, “Spike was helpful tonight. Convenient of him to stop being bonkers,” long after the dead-eyed vampire had quietly asked to be dropped off at the apartment rather than join the Scoobies at Buffy’s house, that Xander reflects back on that instant of terror and self-loathing and-
heartbreak
-and feels a creeping, inescapable sense of shame.
However, I also always wonder about the bazooka scene and the fact that Spike is the one chasing Buffy because it seems like it could be a triggery situation for the characters. I understand why he does it, I love that he does it, and I think it’s probably intentional of the writers after Buffy’s ginormous flinch at the beginning. I don’t think the build-up to the scene would be as comical as the actual scene itself, though. Or maybe I just like angst and Xander and Spike interaction. In any case, I came up with a 1000-word ficlet. I’m not sure that I’m 100% satisfied with it, but if I ever get around to writing my early S7 Xander fic, I’ll probably get a better lock on his motivations and be able to edit this more then if I choose.
Title: Inescapable
Rating: R for one swear word and mentions of the AR
Setting: 7x06, Him
“Okay, I don’t know what Buffy’s planning, but we’re probably going to need brawn to stop her, and that means you.”
Xander’s rambling as he drives toward Sunnydale High at a much higher speed than he should, trying not to panic about what his best friends are doing, might have done already, trying to ignore the bitter fact that all of a sudden he needs Spike, the strange fact that he’s secretly relieved Spike is here, that he’s not the only male around. If the situation weren’t so dire he might laugh at the irony- or go into panicked hysterics.
“What do you mean?” says Spike in that new, quiet voice of his that tries to be neutral but can’t hide an undercurrent of bitterness toward the world.
“I mean I’m going to park and you’re going to run. If she puts up a fight, I can’t stop her.”
No, no Xander’s just a slightly overweight carpenter, no match for the Slayer. A vampire, on the other hand-
“No.”
Spike’s been so accommodating tonight, so not-the-anticipated-pain-in-his-ass that Xander thinks he’s misunderstood.
“No…?”
Silence for a precious few seconds before the low, pained answer that Xander automatically leans a little closer to hear: “I’m not attacking Buffy.”
Oh.
Spiteful words are on the tip of his tongue (Couldn’t have thought of that last May?) but Xander reins them in. It’s probably a good thing that the vampire has thought of this, but fuck if Xander is going to let him feel noble about it.
“It won’t be an attack,” he says through gritted teeth. “Not really.”
He got used to the fact that Buffy would always be stronger and faster than him years ago and it rarely wounds his pride, but now the almost-forgotten resentment flares up briefly. Not resentment toward Buffy, but resentment at the universe, at Spike, at himself for not working out more, eating a few too many cookies after dinner, for never being enough.
What is wrong with the world that he has to convince an attempted rapist to slightly manhandle his victim to stop said (out of her mind) victim from killing someone?
He thinks about telling Spike that he’ll try to reach Buffy first, but that sounds too much like comfort, so instead he says aggressively, because he can, “You’ll do it if you have to. Just get her weapon away from her. That’s all. No hitting her, no hurting her, and definitely no pinning her down-”
He breaks off, aware he’s teetering on the line, close to breaking the detente that’s been working so well all evening. Discomfort roils in his stomach. Spike stares straight ahead, his jaw clenched. Even in profile, it’s easy to see his eyes are blank, dead.
“You’ll be able to do that locator spell, Will?” says Xander, just to break the silence.
“Yes.” There’s the teensiest edge of resentment in Willow’s voice, the smallest pause before she speaks, and when Xander glances in the rearview mirror he sees her wince and rub her temple, trying to clear her cloudy mind, work past the love spell.
It’s a testament to how effortless the peace had been earlier in the evening that Spike is sitting shotgun, that Xander didn’t think to relegate him to the backseat once Willow joined up.
He finally pulls into the school parking lot, tires screeching, and his heart jumps into his throat as he scans the grounds.
“There she is!”
Xander’s surge of relief at finding Buffy quickly turns into horror as he registers what his friend is carrying.
“Is that a bazooka? Where the hell did she find a bazooka? Is that the same one-”
Never mind, never mind, priorities, he has them, the principal, oh god-
Luckily, his feet are well ahead of his brain and already moving out of the car. He tries, he really does, puts on a burst of gut-hurting speed like he did when he ran the mile in high school, when he could pretend for seven minutes that he was an athlete because seven minutes was all it took.
But he’s not fast enough, and the thought of wresting that bazooka from her is laughable-
“Go, Spike, run!”
Spike’s out of the car, but he doesn’t move, only stares at Buffy, wide-eyed, and Xander finds himself bellowing-
“I don’t care about your guilt or conscience or whatever! How do you think Buffy will feel if she wakes up from this spell and realizes she’s killed the principal?”
There’s an instant before Spike takes off running across the pavement when his dead eyes come briefly to life again. Xander thinks he sees terror. Self-loathing.
Good.
For a moment, before he feels stirrings of guilt because now he’s wondering how Buffy will react (remembers her spasm in his apartment when Spike touched her, hates the idea that this could trigger something, hopes the spell will dull her memory as it has her judgment), Xander feels vindictive pleasure in the fact that the vampire is suffering while being useful.
It’s not until later, after Anya casually comments, “Spike was helpful tonight. Convenient of him to stop being bonkers,” long after the dead-eyed vampire had quietly asked to be dropped off at the apartment rather than join the Scoobies at Buffy’s house, that Xander reflects back on that instant of terror and self-loathing and-
heartbreak
-and feels a creeping, inescapable sense of shame.