Fic: Courtship Rituals Pt. 4
Fandoms: Buffyverse and NCIS
Pairing Spike/Xander, Tony/Gibbs
Rating: Teen+ (dirty words, sexual situations)
Warnings: Potty mouth
Notes: Written for the Fall of S/X, not so beta'd. While it's a crossover, knowledge of NCIS isn't necessary to enjoy the fic.
Go back to Coursthip Rituals Pt. 1
Go to Courtship Rituals Index
Courtship Rituals Pt. 4
Pretty boy was at the cooler, reaching to open it, but Xander blocked him.
Spike draped himself decoratively in the chair at the table again, the same way he would drape himself on a dusty throne in a broken down factory in front of a bunch of minions. "Bring me my dinner, pet."
Xander narrowed his eye.
"Now, pet."
"You are so not the boss of me."
"You started this, boy. How did you think it would end? Bring me my dinner."
Xander stared at Spike for a few minutes. The face was lazy, but implacable, like Shere Kahn. Xander was willing to bet that he was the only one that could see the reality lurking in Spike's eyes and slant of shoulders. Spike might be in control of the situation, but that didn't mean he wasn't a bit scared. Xander couldn't blame him. These people might not be Initiative, or soldiers even, but they were the government. Xander suddenly felt like a complete screw up. "I'm sorry, Spike," he said.
Spike smiled. "S'okay, pet. Likely turn out better this way. My dinner."
Xander picked up the cooler, feeling kind of like the same third grade idiot that had a lunch box full of cookies and cereal instead of the sandwich and apple Willow thought he should have, and carried it over to Spike. He knew the buddy cops were exchanging significantish glances and that whole think-they're-onto-something routine. Xander just put the cooler down on the floor next to Spike, but not between him and the cops, opened the cooler, and picked up one of the bags of blood.
It was cold, but it wasn't like Spike was a reptile. Spike preferred it heated up, but Xander had a strong hunch that Spike was going for show rather than tell. "Hey, it's AB pos. How much did that set you back?"
Spike took the bag regally. "Poof paid for it."
"Blood," DiNozzo said mockingly. "Next thing you'll tell us you're a vampire."
Spike smirked. "Wouldn't tell you anything, thick boy like you." Spike shifted into game face and sank his fangs into the bag.
DiNozzo yelped and jumped backward. Gibbs' expression tightened and his lips started turning a little white from the pressure, but he didn't move otherwise.
Xander rolled his eye. "Spike's more a show not tell kinda vamp."
"Riley Finn's group put a behavior modification chip in his head," Gibbs said. "For what purpose?"
Xander shrugged. "They were into make super soldiers. Thought that maybe they could use vamps, if they could control the vamps. They used other demons for things that are just too yuck to think about."
"Vampires," DiNozzo said.
"Yeah. It was disgusting. Sure, vamps are all evil and stuff, and I'm with the whole stake first ask questions later philosophy myself, but what the Initiative did was just wrong."
"So how come you aren't staking him? It?" Gibbs asked.
"Spike's on the good guy side now."
"Because of the chip," Gibbs guessed.
"Nah, chipped vamps are still evil. Spike's a completely different kind of special ed."
Spike finished off the bag and licked his fangs.
"So what makes him good?"
"Kinda hard to say, y'know?" Xander scratched his chin. "I'd say it's the soul he got back a year or so ago, but everyone that worked at the Initiative had souls and some of them out-eviled Spike on his worst day."
"Oi!"
Xander poked Spike in the arm. "Oh, you know it's true. You were evil, but Walsh had you out-eviled like Broodboy has you out-gelled. Which is saying something. You using shellac these days?"
Spike scoffed.
Gibbs stared at Spike without moving for a few minutes. DiNozzo started by gaping and then switched to frowning. Spike just stuck his hand out for another blood bag, which Xander provided with a heavy sigh and another eye roll.
Gibbs pointed at Spike "Wilder put the chip in his head." Gibbs turned his accusey finger on Xander. "You want Wilder to go to jail for putting the chip in his head." Gibbs dropped his hand and frowned at Spike. "What do you get out of this?"
Spike pulled his fangs from the blood bag. "Need to get into the jail."
"No," Gibbs said.
Spike curled his lip. "Yeah. Gotta make sure that thing in jail is human. Angelman died years ago. The thing in your jail is either Angelman raised from the dead, or something else. In either case, don't want what's left of the Initiative, or any other of you boys, to have it. It knows things that no one else knows. It should be dead." He dropped the sneer---his sneer was uber creepy in game face by the way---and stuck his fangs back into the bag.
"Raise the dead?' Gibbs sounded mostly skeptical, but partly hopeful.
"No way. No good ever comes from raising the dead," Xander said. "Especially when it rips them out of heaven. Bad, bad, bad."
Gibbs didn't say anything.
"If what you're saying is true," DiNozzo said slowly, "which it can't be, then Wilder's an asset they'd want to keep alive."
Xander nodded. Maybe this wouldn't turn into such a clusterfuck. "Yup. He can do all of the behavior modification and super soldier making stuff."
DiNozzo took in Spike's game face consideringly, like Willow with an interesting new idea on how something might work.
Xander frowned. "I kinda get what you're thinking. Let vampires fight the wars 'cause it'll save lives. Vamps are evil and why not? We'd kill them all anyway, right?"
DiNozzo shook his head. "I can see the benefits of using things like him to fight wars, but---"
"That makes us Nazis," Gibbs finished.
Xander beamed and chucked Spike on the shoulder. "Told you!"
Spike set the empty blood bag aside. "Boy here, he wants justice for me. I want Angelman dead."
"No," Gibbs crossed his arms. "He'll go to trial. He'll be locked up for life."
Spike lounged again, his face melting back to human. "Most demons don't get along with others of their own kind, let alone demons from a different species. What happens if the Initiative gets the idea to use demons again, for demon control?"
"Demons aren't human, most don't even look it," Xander said, "but that doesn't mean they're all stupid."
"They'd band together," DiNozzo said.
"Demons all together against humans." Xander smiled at DiNozzo. "Right now, we're on top and stuff because demons just all get along with their lives better if people don't know about them. The torch and pitchfork days weren't that long ago, really, and they know what a mob of people can do to the average demon. But they get that kind of thing, too. Mobs are just revenge. What the Initiative did was different. Might start a demon war that we don't know we can win."
Gibbs sighed. "I don't know that I believe all this."
Xander had to agree with that. His intro to demons way less fun than this. "It is kind of hard to take in."
"I'm not getting you into the jail."
"Don't have to, then." Spike stretched a bit drowsily. "Take your arse down to the jail and burn a bit of Angelman's hair. If the flame burns black, he's not human."
"And then what do we do?"
Spike grinned toothily. "Well, tell us, of course."
Xander frowned at Spike. "You can send him to jail. Keep an eye on him, make sure he gets no visitors or mail, you know, so he can't pass on his information. If he breaks out, we'll take care of it."
"That's it." Gibbs didn't sound convinced.
"That's it." Xander tried to sound reassuring.
"What if Wilder is human?"
"Well," Xander said, "if his hair doesn't burn black, then we'll need to get some kind of genetic sample, maybe an interview, to see what he is."
Gibbs eyed him for a few moments. "You two planning on going anywhere?"
"Maybe on a date, if I'm lucky," Xander said.
"I'll get back to you." Gibbs headed for the door. "DiNozzo!"
DiNozzo looked at Xander, obviously a bit creeped out. "If he's really a vampire, he's dead."
"Well, yeah, that's the way vampirism works."
"Isn't that disgusting? A dead body?"
Xander smiled. "I've never known anyone more alive than Spike."
DiNozzo didn't look convinced. "Yeah, well, I don't want to see it."
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled from the door.
"On it, Boss!" DiNozzo trotted out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Spike tilted his head and looked up at Xander from the corner of one eye. "He's right, luv. I am a dead body."
Xander shrugged. "You're a vampire. Big difference. Besides, you're just what I like. Smart, honest, with just enough evil to make you fun."
Spike nodded abruptly. "You can take me out, show me a good time. See if you're good enough."
"Oh, gee, thanks." Xander flopped onto the bed. "I feel so privileged now."
"Should do, pet." Spike pulled another smoke from the pack. "I'm particular."
Xander rolled onto his side to get a clear view of his vamp. "I'm just what you like, too, Spike."
Spike arched a brow. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Loyal, strong, and a bit loco in the cerveza."
Spike was silent for a moment, then put his cigarette away. "Could be, pet. Could be."
Xander smiled.
"And it's cabeza, pet. Cerveza is beer."
***
Gibbs didn't wait for Tony to buckle up before he took off. The jail was a little over a mile away and he wanted to get this over with.
Tony curled his hand into the oh-shit handle and braced himself. "What the hell was that, Boss?"
"Stop sign."
"No, the vampire thing. What the hell was that?"
Gibbs didn't bother to answer. He didn't know what the hell that was. He didn't know if he should believe it or not. The punk's shift from human to, whatever that thing was, was chilling. He didn't know how it could be faked, but anything was possible. The only thing was that his gut had instantly told him to kill it. His heart had started pounding and his stomach had climbed up into his throat. It had been hard to breathe. Everything inside of him had screamed to kill it. It was dangerous. Nothing had pissed him off more in his life than that feeling.
The kid with the eyepatch said it was good, but---
Gibbs shook his head and pulled into the jail's lot. He slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. First, he wanted to talk to Wilder. Then, well, he'd figure out what to do.
"Uh, boss?" Tony stepped beside him. "We're gonna, you know, burn Wilder's hair?"
"We're going to talk to Wilder. See what he knows."
Tony relaxed. "Good."
Gibbs marched into the jail with Tony trotting at his heel. Honestly, he didn't know what he was hoping to find out from Wilder, other than to see which of the two had broken into the jail the other night. Gibbs' money was on Spike. The Harris kid just didn't have the intimidating presence. He briefly considered the delivery man the Harris kid had nearly strangled, but dismissed it. Harris was more like a puppy, one of those big water-loving ones that people put bandanas on and threw Frisbees for. He had teeth, but his intimidation factor was less than none. Had to be Spike.
They were shown to the same interview room and, a few minutes later, Wilder was shoved in. Gibbs sat down calmly at the table, hands clasped and placed just so on the scarred laminate top in front of him. Tony took up his usual insolent pose a step behind him and to the right. Wilder stayed by the door, eyes darting between the two.
Gibbs waited until Wilder started to settle, then said, "Tell me about Spike."
Wilder flinched. "I don't know anything."
"You know Spike," Tony said helpfully. "About so tall, bleaches, sounds like a bad Benny Hill episode?"
"Tell me," Gibbs added.
Wilder licked his lips and stared at the door behind them, almost as if he expected Spike to come leaping through it.
"Seems Spike will be in town for a while," Gibbs said. "He's awful interested in you."
"You gotta keep him away from me. Please."
Gibbs settled back in the chair. "Why."
Wilder licked his lips again and sidled away from the door leading to the cells, as if Spike might come bursting through. "He's an animal. A monster."
Gibbs stared until Wilder shivered, then said, "A vampire."
"God, you know. Yes! Please, you have to do something. Help me. Get me out of here. Something. Anything!"
"The Initiative," Gibbs said.
Wilder flinched again, looking around wildly.
Gibbs banged a fist on the table. "The Initiative!"
"It's gone. Buried under the Sunnydale crater. Even before that, it was gone. Emptied out and buried. I can't tell you anymore!"
"You put a chip in Spike's head."
"Are you going to help me?"
"Spike and his new little buddy seemed very interested in visiting you tonight, after lights out," Tony said. Gibbs didn't have to look to see the grin.
"Oh, God," Wilder whimpered. "You can't do this to me. You can't! It's insane!"
"You put a behavior modification chip in Spike's head."
"Yes! Okay, yes!" Wilder curled around himself. "I did what I had to do. They're animals, monsters. Could you imagine the offensive capabilities of a weapon like that? In the right hands it would save hundreds of lives on any battlefield, any night!"
Gibbs felt his lip curl.
"Harris was right," Tony hissed.
"Harris?" Wilder jolted straight. "Xander Harris?"
"Spike's apparently his boyfriend these days." Tony shifted his weight. "Kind of gross, but no accounting for taste."
"But why?"
"He's into necrophilia," Tony said.
"No, Harris works for the Slayer. He's on the good guy side. Why would he be around Hostile 17? It makes no sense!"
Gibbs stood up and slowly made his way over to Wilder, who crouched down. Gibbs pulled his knife from behind his belt, and grabbed Wilder by the hair.
"Please," Wilder whispered, palms rising defensively, eyes closing. "Please."
Gibbs cut a chunk of hair out. "Harris says you're not human. What are you?"
Wilder's eyes opened wide. "What? I'm human!"
"DiNozzo!"
Tony stepped forward, a lighter handy. Gibbs lit the hair on fire. It stank like charred fiberglass. The flame burned black.
Wilder stared at it. "What? What was that?"
Gibbs stood up. He handed the lighter back to Tony and stuck his knife back in its hiding place. "That means you're not human."
"What? No! I'm human!"
He ignored Wilder's screeching and headed for the door. Tony paused, no doubt to smirk at Wilder, and then followed.
Neither of them said a word until they were both sitting in the car. It was nearly six in the evening. The sun hadn't started going down yet, but it would. Somehow, Gibbs didn't feel as comfortable with the dark as he used to.
"Now what, boss?" Tony asked, his voice soft.
"Secnav."
Tony's head jerked toward him.
"If he doesn't know what's going on, he has the clearance to find out."
Tony's nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. "We're taking this vampire thing seriously?"
"Hair doesn't burn like that, no matter what kind of products are in it. Nothing burns like that." Gibbs' voice was a soft as Tony's had been moments ago. "We saw a vampire today. We're putting away a man that performed experiments on that vampire. Someone who isn't human. The black ops boys wanted us out. We either pretend nothing happened or we go to Secnav."
"Even if we wanted to, I don't see the Harris kid keeping quiet about it." Tony drummed his fingers on his thighs. "He seems to know that covert ops guy you mentioned."
Gibbs grunted and turned the engine over. "Call McGee, tell him to locate Secnav."
"Uh."
"Tell him to keep it quiet."
Gibbs hit the nearest Starbucks drive-thru while Tony dealt with McGee. After two cups of coffee and some ridiculous latte thing for Tony, they were on their way to the Secnav's house. Thankfully, Tony didn't have any of his usual chatter or movie quotes. He sat in this seat, vibrating, eyes roving sidewalks, when they were on city streets. Gibbs figured that he was looking for signs of vampires in the pedestrians washed with shadows by the late afternoon sun. He didn't blame Tony. He was doing the same thing.
He pulled up to the Secnav's gate house and opened the door for the marine MP on duty. He forked over Tony's and his IDs. A few minutes later, he drove to the garage, as directed. The lights in the mansion were on and shining, indicating that some sort of shindig was going down soon. He snorted, parked in front of the door farthest from the mansion, and climbed out. Tony mimicked him, leaning against the side of the car to wait. It wasn't long. Another MP opened the garage door and they went inside.
"Gibbs."
"Davenport."
Secnav Davenport sucked on his cigar, eyeing the two of them as if they were naughty sailors fresh from a long weekend of shore leave.
"What brings you here?"
Gibbs stared pointedly at the door, until Davenport waved his hand and it shut. Gibbs squared his shoulders. "The Initiative."
Davenport's eyes widened, then narrowed.
"We've got a problem," Gibbs said. Tony ducked his head, either to hide a wince or smirk.
Davenport stood, holding the stogie in between his fingers, poker face in place, and listened to the entire story laid bare before him. When Gibbs was finished, Davenport took another long puff on the cigar. "You've put me in a shit position, gunny."
"You were in a shit position whether I was involved or not, sir," Gibbs said.
Davenport sighed. "Fuck."
Tony shifted, but remained silent.
"Get a room tonight. Pay cash. Call the Harris kid in the morning and set up meeting. 10 is good. Don't tell him it's with me. Get a room or something in his hotel and have McGee sweep it. Have Harris bring the vampire."
Tony stiffened. "Vampires are real."
Davenport took a long hit on the cigar, the nodded. "Yes, son. They are."
Gibbs crossed tilted his head. "What are we going to do about Wilder?"
Davenport smiled. "Get rid of it, whatever it is. You don't need to know who runs the Initiative, Jethro, just that they should never have made this thing."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Some people might argue that it could save the lives of servicemen and women in combat."
"Only if you can keep control of these things. Plans like these have a way of turning around and biting you on the ass. That vampire you saw today, Hostile 17, only thing that stopped it from eating you is that it didn't want to." Davenport grunted. "Maybe the Harris kid. Point is, they had it, they chipped it, listed it as an asset; it ended up a part of what brought their operation crashing down around their ears."
Gibbs nodded.
"See you tomorrow at ten."
"Sir," Gibbs said. Davenport stood aside and watched them leave.
Tony didn't say anything, which was unusual in itself, until they'd left the Secnav far behind. Gibbs didn't feel like breaking the silence and drove. First stop, an ATM.
"Vampires are real." Tony's voice sounded sure and competent. He'd assimilated the information then.
"Looks that way."
"That closes four cold cases. One in Peoria, two in Baltimore, and one at NCIS."
That brought Gibbs up short. There were vampires in Peoria? He blinked. "It won't close them."
"No, I guess we can't stamp vampire victim on the cover and file it away. It does close the investigation, though. At least the one at NCIS."
Gibbs frowned. "Which one? Munoz?"
"No, my money's on cult victim for Munoz. Whitaker, the petty officer that looked like a supermodel. Exsanguinated from the right femoral, and then the body disappeared three days later." Tony drummed his fingers on his leg. "I wonder if Spike would know how to find her, if she got vamped."
"Harris might."
"He's an odd duck," Tony said. "Seems like the world's oldest class clown, but. . . ."
"Yeah, but. Wonder what he's into."
"We can always ask."
Gibbs grunted. He flashed back to the conversation he'd overheard in the jail's hallway, between the kid and the lawyers. He had a few questions for the kid. Gibbs put it into drive and decided on a roundabout trip to the hotel Harris and the vampire were located in, with a stop at the Base Exchange for a few toiletries and some cash.
It didn't take long to get through the BX. Tony, as expected, bitched about the lack of serious designer labels, but wasn't such a stickler that he didn't purchase three outfits. Three! Gibbs only needed a new shirt and a standard shaving kit. His ex-wives had spent less time dithering over perfume than Tony did with the cologne selection, before he abruptly decided to do without. He watched Tony's production with his eyebrows raised, trying to decide if this was a show put on solely for his benefit in some odd DiNozzo way of thinking, or if this was the way Tony really did shop.
Tony strapped the seat belt in. "I thought you got all of your clothes at Sears."
Gibbs shook his head and started the car. "Better deals, no taxes, and they have sandpaper."
"It's just a shame to waste all of that," Tony waved hand at Gibbs, "with all of," there was a pause, then another, but more curt hand wave, "that."
Huh. Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the hotel.
"You're a decent enough looking guy, Boss. You should invest in a decent wardrobe."
"If it isn't machine washable, it isn't decent."
"And the Old Spice? Forget it! They're doing great stuff with wood scents that you'd like."
Gibbs glared at the road. "I'm not a makeover project, DiNozzo."
"All I'm saying is that you could benefit from stuff that brings out your natural, er, Gibbsness."
Gibbs spent the next, very satisfying, few minutes imagining Anthony DiNozzo as a marine. If anyone needed to be restricted to a uniform for his own good, it was Tony. If his sartorial choices were limited to inspection day uniform and whichever daily uniform was cleanest, he might learn a thing or two about how the other half lived. He smirked. "I tell you what, DiNozzo," he said abruptly cutting off a flow of discussion about classical cuts and freedom of movement, "you can give me a makeover, DiNozzo style, but you'll have to get a makeover, marine style, first."
Tony's hand went to his hair. "Uh, I can't pull off the marine cut, boss."
"I'll leave your hair alone." Gibbs smiled at the thought of putting Tony through a one man bootcamp. You could take the gunny out of the marines, but he'd still be a gunny.
"Uh, I'll pass. Thanks." Tony's exaggerated shudder made the entire car shiver. "Yeah, you enjoy Sears and I'll keep my Zegna."
Gibbs pulled into the underground parking of the Marriott.
Tony shook his head. "You and McGee. Completely hopeless. Not as hopeless as Ziva, but at least she has an excuse."
"What's that?"
"She's still stuck in a war zone." Tony climbed out of the car and stretched. "She has an excuse for driving like she's in a war zone, boss. You don't."
Gibbs held back a chuckle. "Rule 12, DiNozzo."
Tony snorted. "I like Ziva, most of the time, but she needs a deprogrammer. I have no idea what kind of shit her life has been like, but I know it's been crap. She needs help, not a boyfriend."
Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and led the way to the elevator. "A deprogrammer, DiNozzo? She's Mossad, not in a cult."
"Is there really that much difference between the way special operations people are taught to think and react than the way cult members are brainwashed? Sure, special ops people have a good reason and purpose for their training and cults are just wrong, but the ends don't mean that the means are all that much different. I'm not a profiler, but even I can tell that not all of that is PTSD. A lot of it is training. You're like Ziva, only more deprogrammed." Tony shrugged and thumbed both elevator call buttons. "Once a marine, always a marine, but you get that you're in the civilian world now, and not in a war zone and you can react like a civilian when you want to."
Gibbs frowned and stared at the closed elevator doors. He wasn't sure what he should make of Tony's insight, for lack of a better word. "Ziva's a liaison. She's subject to recall."
He felt Tony's eyes on his face, boring a hole into his profile. He didn't react. Tony sighed after a moment, and looked at the doors, too. "If they can call her back to her old job, then she really shouldn't be here, boss."
Gibbs could hear the creak of the elevator as it approached. "She's fine."
Tony sighed again, sounding a bit more sad this time. "We'll make her soft. She'll forget to be in her war zone all the time someday, boss, turn more and more civilian." He shrugged. "She already is, somewhat. And when she goes back, well. . . ."
Gibbs clenched his teeth. He knew that, knew it well. If they put her back in the field, she wouldn't be ready for it.
Tony stepped into the elevator before the doors had opened completely. "Maybe she won't get called back."
Gibbs didn't say anything, just pushed the button to the lobby. He never put much faith in maybes.
***
"Should get you a collar, pet," Spike said out of the blue.
Xander's butt was facing his vamp while he dug around in his duffel for something appropriate to wear on his hot date with Spike. He'd never had to come up with a dinner-dancing-demon slaying outfit before. He'd briefly---briefly!---thought of calling Buffy for some fashion advice. She did go through high school dressed for both slaying and meeting up with her hunky, deadboy hunny. But, it was bad enough that she was going to have plenty of opportunities to torture him by throwing his dating the evil undead commentary back in his face, he didn't need a make-over on top of it. He could survive the pointing out of his hypocritical choice of boyfriend these days, but he couldn't survive a make-over. Not ever.
He looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"Collar for you. Thick bit of brown leather with spikes, I'd say. Something that's a bit strong, a bit tough, and a bit tender."
Xander frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Spike prowled over, a bare strip of flesh between the top of his jeans and bottom of his tee shirt flashing Xander provocatively with every step. Spike trailed his fingers across Xander's throat. "Should put a collar on you. Get a tag with my name on it."
"Just to be perfectly clear here, Evil Undead, you can call me pet because that's your weirdo British way of talking, but I am not your pet because that's the weirdo vampire way of playing with their food."
Spike just smirked at that.
"No, uh-uh, not happening."
Spike's hand curled around the back of Xander's neck and brought their bodies flush together. "Who's the Big Bad, pet?"
Xander rolled his eye. "Duh. You."
"What makes the Big Bad the Big Bad?"
"Snark and bleach?"
Spike smiled. "Power. Demons fear me. I beat the First Evil, pet."
Xander rolled his eye. "Demons don't respect you for that."
"No, but they do respect my power. Takes bollocks and strength to take on the First. I did. I'm here, First isn't."
Xander frowned at that. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Beating the First is a thing, but no one has ever beaten you lot."
"So?"
"You aren't an idiot, pup."
Xander tilted his head a bit, as if in thought, but more to watch Spike's eyes dilate at the new arch in his neck. "Thought I was a 'lackbrain,' oh mighty Big Bad?"
Spike scoffed. "Point is, demon world hasn't made up its mind yet. Am I the Big Bad or the Slayer's hanger-on?" Spike nodded toward the cooler. "Varshall's boy'll be telling tales about the Slayer's minion playing the minion for me. Demanding I get the respect I deserve. Gonna put the D.C. nightlife in a bit of a tizzy, it will."
Xander straightened his head and glared. "So not a minion, here."
"Doesn't matter what you really are, pet. Point is, you wear my collar and demons'll think I have more power."
"I won't act like a pet," he said before he even knew he'd decided to go along with this crazy Spike Plan.
Spike smiled. It lit up his face like a, uh, face-lighty-up-thing. Made him stunning and beautiful. "Even better, pet. Even better. Knickers will get in a twist all over when the Slayer's boy voluntarily puts on my collar."
"I think we should save it for kinky sex games, fang face."
"It's a good idea, pet, trust me."
"Last time the evil undead had a plan to use me to play power games with another demon, you saw right through it."
Spike shrugged. "Peaches never could put the lump rattling in his skull to good use. Beauty of my plan, pet, is that it's true. You would wear it because you wanted to. Demons attach whatever meanings they want to it."
Xander could feel the doubt bubbling up from the place that still whispered words like Zeppo and donut boy. "Would you have put a collar on Buffy, if, you know, you would have been, you know, in a place to kind of do that back in the 'Dale?"
"No," Spike said after a few moments. Xander stiffened and pulled back. Spike sighed softly and cupped his cheeks gently, in a way that made it seem almost affectionate. "Pay attention, Xander. I would've put on a collar and said it was from her, had it come to that. Slayer has to be the Big Good. Has to have power to lord over demons, yeah?"
Xander felt his lips pulling down mulishly. "Yeah."
"She put on a collar, even from the Big Bad hisself, and she loses some of her power. Loses respect. Some of the lesser demons who run from her might be thinking they could maybe take her. And she spends more time fighting." Spike smiled. "You, though, you're hers. Her minion. Her supporter. Her friend. Her Scoobie. You don't have the same kind of power. Your power is different. You don’t have to be the Big Good because you're a weapon the Big Good has. Demons don't understand your power, but they do respect it."
Xander wasn't so frowny now and it was kind of irritating. Buffy wasn't the boss of him and all owner of the lackies and minions. Buffy was his friend, his bud, one of his girls. But the average demon understood friendship about as well as Xander understood German. He knew it when he saw it and could maybe pretend to be knowledge-boy because he could say guten morgen, Oktoberfest, and beer. Demons wouldn't know why Xander spend his life helping Buffy, they'd just know he did for some human reason.
His eye narrowed suspiciously, in what he hoped was menacing but suspected wasn't because he could feel his bottom lip start to jut out. "And why the sudden thing with the collar?"
Spike suddenly acquired a defensive, almost sheepish slump to his shoulders. "Well, ah, I might have offended a few demons, being on the side of you white hats. Now that I might survive whatever do Peaches has planned, I should drop by a few locals and have a spot of tea and pleasantries."
Xander relaxed. "Now that makes more sense. I didn't think we were to the kinky sex games stage of your courtship yet. You're an old fashioned vamp."
Spike smirked. "Needs must, and all that."
"Fine, we'll go get a collar. But no make-overs. If your fancy demon power brokers don't like the Xan-man the way he's dressed, they can just build a bridge and get over it."
"I'll get you into leather pants yet, pet."
He pictured himself in a pair of leather pants, and knowing Spike's sense of taste, probably a silk shirt on top. With his dark hair, he'd look kind of Angelussy, a clumsy, one-eyed Angelus, but the look on Willow's face would be priceless. He'd probably get a face full of holy water as soon as he walked in the door. He grinned. Or if he knocked on the door, like he was pretending he forgot his key or something and needed help getting inside…. "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem, bleachy."
Spike eyed him in a suspiciousy way. Xander just grinned wider. "What're you on about, boy?"
"Can you imagine Slayer Central if I showed up dressed like Angelus?"
Spike's eyebrows went up, then went down again, this time with the pink tip of his tongue sliding out a bit.
Xander's grin shifted into a more affectionate amusement. "Like that idea, huh?"
"Might do, pet."
"I've never been a leather pants fan, but if you buy me some, I'll---"
Spike's growling, along with the sudden knocking on the door shut up him up. Spike sneered again, then slumped into his throne-chair. "It's the government gits again."
"Oh for the…." Xander stomped over to the door and flung it open. DiNozzo had his hand up, about to knock, with Gibbs frowning beside him. "Unless you've got the bad jailed guy in the trunk of your car, this can wait until tomorrow."
DiNozzo looked down. "I thought you'd be more of a Princess Leia fan than a Yoda fan."
Xander looked down, too. Nothing was sticking out inappropriately and his Yoda briefs were clean. He refused to be embarrassed, even though this was just about as bad as the time in high school when, well, there were too many to choose from. "I gotta date. Good bye." Xander tried to slam the door, but Gibbs caught it.
"We need to have a word with you," Gibbs was saying while stepping forward. He ran into Xander who had no intention of moving.
"Yeah, about that. We don't need to have a word with you so, bye now."
Gibbs apparently didn't want to get into a wrestling match with a guy in his best Yoda briefs. Gibbs shot a few looks down the hallway. "It's about Wilder."
Xander put on his expectant face.
"Inside."
"Let 'em in, pet."
At least Spike was dressed this time. Just missing his usual silk shirt and his duster. Xander backed up to let them in, and glared at Spike. "You are so not the boss of me."
"Mr. Harris, Mr. Spike," Gibbs said, looking directly at Spike with the kind of gonna kill it before it kills me intensity some of Riley's buddies had on whenever they'd been around on patrol. DiNozzo hovered anxiously, somewhere between backing up Gibbs and bolting out of the door.
Xander dug the last clean pair of jeans out of his duffel and tugged them on.
Spike was obviously just as impressed as he was, because he tossed off a two fingered flip off and said, "Wanker. Lackey."
Gibbs tightened up a bit around the mouth, but he had a hell of a poker face. Spike, if anything, just lounged his way into his amused Shere Kahn impression. DiNozzo shrugged and stared in open fascination at Spike.
"Out with it, wanker. What's in your jail?"
"The hair burned black."
"Great," Xander said after he finished pulling on his best tee shirt. It was a white Hanes that he wore for important meetings. "I knew Ethan didn't raise the dead."
"Ethan?" DiNozzo flicked his eyes toward Xander for a moment, then back to Spike.
Spike quirked a lip. "'M not a trick pony, boy."
Xander shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway. You guys just do what you do best. It can't cause trouble in jail, especially since it thinks it's a human."
There might have been a bit of squirming in the two cops.
"You told it, then?" Spike said.
"It noticed something was wrong," Gibbs said flatly.
Xander huffed. How stupid could you be? "It didn't occur to you to take the hair to another room and burn it? I've seen Law and Order. You could have told it you were drug testing it or something."
"Not without a court order."
"Shouldn't much matter anyway. Homonculi don't have any powers and if it talks, you humans will just think it's gone off its nut." Spike made a shooing motion with his fingers, as if he couldn't be bothered to give his full attention. "Now that's settled, bugger off."
Gibbs stood his ground. "We need to discuss options."
Xander rolled his eye. "Just prosecute him. It's not like anyone can tell he's not human, well, unless you have a vampire there to test all of your criminals."
Gibbs shook his head. "Not good enough. We need to know how to deal with this thing. Meet us 10 am tomorrow, room 708."
"Piss off."
Gibbs looked pretty ready to start shooting. DiNozzo spread his hands out. "We can't just put it in prison as if it were human. We don't know what we're dealing with and we don't want anyone to get hurt. More importantly, we don't want that thing to get away with what it did, or to get loose to do it to something, er, someone else."
Spike grunted then, eyes narrowed. "You're up to something."
DiNozzo flashed a grin. It was shakey. "Always am, but I'm right about this."
There was several moments of silence. Xander tried to figure out what to say or do. Spike tilted his head. "All right. We'll meet." Spike smirked then. "Just remember, lackey, I'm the only thing stopping me from eating you. Don't fuck us over."
"Wow, Spike, an Americanism!"
Spike tilted his head, looking more at Xander than the feds. He had his amused with you face on. "We've used fuck in Jolly Old long before anyone in America spoke English."
"Fine, bring history into it if you have to, fang face." Xander scrunched his face up.
"Will do, pet."
"Let's go, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Harris." Gibbs bobbed his head in Xander's general direction, one of those super manly, hey man, I'm the dude, head bobs. Gibbs then glared at Spike, before turning around and heading for the door.
"Be careful, wanker. Never know when something's looking at your neck."
"Spike," Xander said. Well, it might have been a whine instead of a said, but he didn't think it was a whine. But it might have been because, really, this was Spike and Spiteful Spike was a Sexy Spike.
The door shut behind the feds with a decisive click, one that said Gibbs would rather it had been a slam. Spike bounced to his feet. "Let's go."
Xander frowned at him. "You weren't in this big of a hurry before they got here. You were more interested in looking for footie on the telly."
Spike gave him a look that reminded him of the last time Buffy had smelled his shoes. "You are never to say footie or telly again. It's worse than Angelus' singing voice. Don't do it."
Xander rolled his eye. "Whatever, fang face. Why are you in such a hurry all of the sudden, anyway?"
"The jail is a mile away. Shouldn't have taken six hours for them to wander down there, burn a bit of hair, and return, should it? They did something, something we won't like."
Xander was back to frowny face. "That's not a good thing."
"Was planning to take you to a pub or two, show off my pet Scoobie."
"Hey! Not a pet."
Spike scoffed. "Now, think we'll drop by a demon I know, works for your government. See what's doing with these two."
"Demons work for the government? That explains the IRS."
Go to Courtship Rituals Pt. 5
Go to Courtship Rituals Index
Pairing Spike/Xander, Tony/Gibbs
Rating: Teen+ (dirty words, sexual situations)
Warnings: Potty mouth
Notes: Written for the Fall of S/X, not so beta'd. While it's a crossover, knowledge of NCIS isn't necessary to enjoy the fic.
Go back to Coursthip Rituals Pt. 1
Go to Courtship Rituals Index
Courtship Rituals Pt. 4
Pretty boy was at the cooler, reaching to open it, but Xander blocked him.
Spike draped himself decoratively in the chair at the table again, the same way he would drape himself on a dusty throne in a broken down factory in front of a bunch of minions. "Bring me my dinner, pet."
Xander narrowed his eye.
"Now, pet."
"You are so not the boss of me."
"You started this, boy. How did you think it would end? Bring me my dinner."
Xander stared at Spike for a few minutes. The face was lazy, but implacable, like Shere Kahn. Xander was willing to bet that he was the only one that could see the reality lurking in Spike's eyes and slant of shoulders. Spike might be in control of the situation, but that didn't mean he wasn't a bit scared. Xander couldn't blame him. These people might not be Initiative, or soldiers even, but they were the government. Xander suddenly felt like a complete screw up. "I'm sorry, Spike," he said.
Spike smiled. "S'okay, pet. Likely turn out better this way. My dinner."
Xander picked up the cooler, feeling kind of like the same third grade idiot that had a lunch box full of cookies and cereal instead of the sandwich and apple Willow thought he should have, and carried it over to Spike. He knew the buddy cops were exchanging significantish glances and that whole think-they're-onto-something routine. Xander just put the cooler down on the floor next to Spike, but not between him and the cops, opened the cooler, and picked up one of the bags of blood.
It was cold, but it wasn't like Spike was a reptile. Spike preferred it heated up, but Xander had a strong hunch that Spike was going for show rather than tell. "Hey, it's AB pos. How much did that set you back?"
Spike took the bag regally. "Poof paid for it."
"Blood," DiNozzo said mockingly. "Next thing you'll tell us you're a vampire."
Spike smirked. "Wouldn't tell you anything, thick boy like you." Spike shifted into game face and sank his fangs into the bag.
DiNozzo yelped and jumped backward. Gibbs' expression tightened and his lips started turning a little white from the pressure, but he didn't move otherwise.
Xander rolled his eye. "Spike's more a show not tell kinda vamp."
"Riley Finn's group put a behavior modification chip in his head," Gibbs said. "For what purpose?"
Xander shrugged. "They were into make super soldiers. Thought that maybe they could use vamps, if they could control the vamps. They used other demons for things that are just too yuck to think about."
"Vampires," DiNozzo said.
"Yeah. It was disgusting. Sure, vamps are all evil and stuff, and I'm with the whole stake first ask questions later philosophy myself, but what the Initiative did was just wrong."
"So how come you aren't staking him? It?" Gibbs asked.
"Spike's on the good guy side now."
"Because of the chip," Gibbs guessed.
"Nah, chipped vamps are still evil. Spike's a completely different kind of special ed."
Spike finished off the bag and licked his fangs.
"So what makes him good?"
"Kinda hard to say, y'know?" Xander scratched his chin. "I'd say it's the soul he got back a year or so ago, but everyone that worked at the Initiative had souls and some of them out-eviled Spike on his worst day."
"Oi!"
Xander poked Spike in the arm. "Oh, you know it's true. You were evil, but Walsh had you out-eviled like Broodboy has you out-gelled. Which is saying something. You using shellac these days?"
Spike scoffed.
Gibbs stared at Spike without moving for a few minutes. DiNozzo started by gaping and then switched to frowning. Spike just stuck his hand out for another blood bag, which Xander provided with a heavy sigh and another eye roll.
Gibbs pointed at Spike "Wilder put the chip in his head." Gibbs turned his accusey finger on Xander. "You want Wilder to go to jail for putting the chip in his head." Gibbs dropped his hand and frowned at Spike. "What do you get out of this?"
Spike pulled his fangs from the blood bag. "Need to get into the jail."
"No," Gibbs said.
Spike curled his lip. "Yeah. Gotta make sure that thing in jail is human. Angelman died years ago. The thing in your jail is either Angelman raised from the dead, or something else. In either case, don't want what's left of the Initiative, or any other of you boys, to have it. It knows things that no one else knows. It should be dead." He dropped the sneer---his sneer was uber creepy in game face by the way---and stuck his fangs back into the bag.
"Raise the dead?' Gibbs sounded mostly skeptical, but partly hopeful.
"No way. No good ever comes from raising the dead," Xander said. "Especially when it rips them out of heaven. Bad, bad, bad."
Gibbs didn't say anything.
"If what you're saying is true," DiNozzo said slowly, "which it can't be, then Wilder's an asset they'd want to keep alive."
Xander nodded. Maybe this wouldn't turn into such a clusterfuck. "Yup. He can do all of the behavior modification and super soldier making stuff."
DiNozzo took in Spike's game face consideringly, like Willow with an interesting new idea on how something might work.
Xander frowned. "I kinda get what you're thinking. Let vampires fight the wars 'cause it'll save lives. Vamps are evil and why not? We'd kill them all anyway, right?"
DiNozzo shook his head. "I can see the benefits of using things like him to fight wars, but---"
"That makes us Nazis," Gibbs finished.
Xander beamed and chucked Spike on the shoulder. "Told you!"
Spike set the empty blood bag aside. "Boy here, he wants justice for me. I want Angelman dead."
"No," Gibbs crossed his arms. "He'll go to trial. He'll be locked up for life."
Spike lounged again, his face melting back to human. "Most demons don't get along with others of their own kind, let alone demons from a different species. What happens if the Initiative gets the idea to use demons again, for demon control?"
"Demons aren't human, most don't even look it," Xander said, "but that doesn't mean they're all stupid."
"They'd band together," DiNozzo said.
"Demons all together against humans." Xander smiled at DiNozzo. "Right now, we're on top and stuff because demons just all get along with their lives better if people don't know about them. The torch and pitchfork days weren't that long ago, really, and they know what a mob of people can do to the average demon. But they get that kind of thing, too. Mobs are just revenge. What the Initiative did was different. Might start a demon war that we don't know we can win."
Gibbs sighed. "I don't know that I believe all this."
Xander had to agree with that. His intro to demons way less fun than this. "It is kind of hard to take in."
"I'm not getting you into the jail."
"Don't have to, then." Spike stretched a bit drowsily. "Take your arse down to the jail and burn a bit of Angelman's hair. If the flame burns black, he's not human."
"And then what do we do?"
Spike grinned toothily. "Well, tell us, of course."
Xander frowned at Spike. "You can send him to jail. Keep an eye on him, make sure he gets no visitors or mail, you know, so he can't pass on his information. If he breaks out, we'll take care of it."
"That's it." Gibbs didn't sound convinced.
"That's it." Xander tried to sound reassuring.
"What if Wilder is human?"
"Well," Xander said, "if his hair doesn't burn black, then we'll need to get some kind of genetic sample, maybe an interview, to see what he is."
Gibbs eyed him for a few moments. "You two planning on going anywhere?"
"Maybe on a date, if I'm lucky," Xander said.
"I'll get back to you." Gibbs headed for the door. "DiNozzo!"
DiNozzo looked at Xander, obviously a bit creeped out. "If he's really a vampire, he's dead."
"Well, yeah, that's the way vampirism works."
"Isn't that disgusting? A dead body?"
Xander smiled. "I've never known anyone more alive than Spike."
DiNozzo didn't look convinced. "Yeah, well, I don't want to see it."
"DiNozzo!" Gibbs yelled from the door.
"On it, Boss!" DiNozzo trotted out, slamming the door shut behind him.
Spike tilted his head and looked up at Xander from the corner of one eye. "He's right, luv. I am a dead body."
Xander shrugged. "You're a vampire. Big difference. Besides, you're just what I like. Smart, honest, with just enough evil to make you fun."
Spike nodded abruptly. "You can take me out, show me a good time. See if you're good enough."
"Oh, gee, thanks." Xander flopped onto the bed. "I feel so privileged now."
"Should do, pet." Spike pulled another smoke from the pack. "I'm particular."
Xander rolled onto his side to get a clear view of his vamp. "I'm just what you like, too, Spike."
Spike arched a brow. "Oh?"
"Yeah. Loyal, strong, and a bit loco in the cerveza."
Spike was silent for a moment, then put his cigarette away. "Could be, pet. Could be."
Xander smiled.
"And it's cabeza, pet. Cerveza is beer."
***
Gibbs didn't wait for Tony to buckle up before he took off. The jail was a little over a mile away and he wanted to get this over with.
Tony curled his hand into the oh-shit handle and braced himself. "What the hell was that, Boss?"
"Stop sign."
"No, the vampire thing. What the hell was that?"
Gibbs didn't bother to answer. He didn't know what the hell that was. He didn't know if he should believe it or not. The punk's shift from human to, whatever that thing was, was chilling. He didn't know how it could be faked, but anything was possible. The only thing was that his gut had instantly told him to kill it. His heart had started pounding and his stomach had climbed up into his throat. It had been hard to breathe. Everything inside of him had screamed to kill it. It was dangerous. Nothing had pissed him off more in his life than that feeling.
The kid with the eyepatch said it was good, but---
Gibbs shook his head and pulled into the jail's lot. He slammed on the brakes and jumped out of the car. First, he wanted to talk to Wilder. Then, well, he'd figure out what to do.
"Uh, boss?" Tony stepped beside him. "We're gonna, you know, burn Wilder's hair?"
"We're going to talk to Wilder. See what he knows."
Tony relaxed. "Good."
Gibbs marched into the jail with Tony trotting at his heel. Honestly, he didn't know what he was hoping to find out from Wilder, other than to see which of the two had broken into the jail the other night. Gibbs' money was on Spike. The Harris kid just didn't have the intimidating presence. He briefly considered the delivery man the Harris kid had nearly strangled, but dismissed it. Harris was more like a puppy, one of those big water-loving ones that people put bandanas on and threw Frisbees for. He had teeth, but his intimidation factor was less than none. Had to be Spike.
They were shown to the same interview room and, a few minutes later, Wilder was shoved in. Gibbs sat down calmly at the table, hands clasped and placed just so on the scarred laminate top in front of him. Tony took up his usual insolent pose a step behind him and to the right. Wilder stayed by the door, eyes darting between the two.
Gibbs waited until Wilder started to settle, then said, "Tell me about Spike."
Wilder flinched. "I don't know anything."
"You know Spike," Tony said helpfully. "About so tall, bleaches, sounds like a bad Benny Hill episode?"
"Tell me," Gibbs added.
Wilder licked his lips and stared at the door behind them, almost as if he expected Spike to come leaping through it.
"Seems Spike will be in town for a while," Gibbs said. "He's awful interested in you."
"You gotta keep him away from me. Please."
Gibbs settled back in the chair. "Why."
Wilder licked his lips again and sidled away from the door leading to the cells, as if Spike might come bursting through. "He's an animal. A monster."
Gibbs stared until Wilder shivered, then said, "A vampire."
"God, you know. Yes! Please, you have to do something. Help me. Get me out of here. Something. Anything!"
"The Initiative," Gibbs said.
Wilder flinched again, looking around wildly.
Gibbs banged a fist on the table. "The Initiative!"
"It's gone. Buried under the Sunnydale crater. Even before that, it was gone. Emptied out and buried. I can't tell you anymore!"
"You put a chip in Spike's head."
"Are you going to help me?"
"Spike and his new little buddy seemed very interested in visiting you tonight, after lights out," Tony said. Gibbs didn't have to look to see the grin.
"Oh, God," Wilder whimpered. "You can't do this to me. You can't! It's insane!"
"You put a behavior modification chip in Spike's head."
"Yes! Okay, yes!" Wilder curled around himself. "I did what I had to do. They're animals, monsters. Could you imagine the offensive capabilities of a weapon like that? In the right hands it would save hundreds of lives on any battlefield, any night!"
Gibbs felt his lip curl.
"Harris was right," Tony hissed.
"Harris?" Wilder jolted straight. "Xander Harris?"
"Spike's apparently his boyfriend these days." Tony shifted his weight. "Kind of gross, but no accounting for taste."
"But why?"
"He's into necrophilia," Tony said.
"No, Harris works for the Slayer. He's on the good guy side. Why would he be around Hostile 17? It makes no sense!"
Gibbs stood up and slowly made his way over to Wilder, who crouched down. Gibbs pulled his knife from behind his belt, and grabbed Wilder by the hair.
"Please," Wilder whispered, palms rising defensively, eyes closing. "Please."
Gibbs cut a chunk of hair out. "Harris says you're not human. What are you?"
Wilder's eyes opened wide. "What? I'm human!"
"DiNozzo!"
Tony stepped forward, a lighter handy. Gibbs lit the hair on fire. It stank like charred fiberglass. The flame burned black.
Wilder stared at it. "What? What was that?"
Gibbs stood up. He handed the lighter back to Tony and stuck his knife back in its hiding place. "That means you're not human."
"What? No! I'm human!"
He ignored Wilder's screeching and headed for the door. Tony paused, no doubt to smirk at Wilder, and then followed.
Neither of them said a word until they were both sitting in the car. It was nearly six in the evening. The sun hadn't started going down yet, but it would. Somehow, Gibbs didn't feel as comfortable with the dark as he used to.
"Now what, boss?" Tony asked, his voice soft.
"Secnav."
Tony's head jerked toward him.
"If he doesn't know what's going on, he has the clearance to find out."
Tony's nostrils flared as he sucked in a breath. "We're taking this vampire thing seriously?"
"Hair doesn't burn like that, no matter what kind of products are in it. Nothing burns like that." Gibbs' voice was a soft as Tony's had been moments ago. "We saw a vampire today. We're putting away a man that performed experiments on that vampire. Someone who isn't human. The black ops boys wanted us out. We either pretend nothing happened or we go to Secnav."
"Even if we wanted to, I don't see the Harris kid keeping quiet about it." Tony drummed his fingers on his thighs. "He seems to know that covert ops guy you mentioned."
Gibbs grunted and turned the engine over. "Call McGee, tell him to locate Secnav."
"Uh."
"Tell him to keep it quiet."
Gibbs hit the nearest Starbucks drive-thru while Tony dealt with McGee. After two cups of coffee and some ridiculous latte thing for Tony, they were on their way to the Secnav's house. Thankfully, Tony didn't have any of his usual chatter or movie quotes. He sat in this seat, vibrating, eyes roving sidewalks, when they were on city streets. Gibbs figured that he was looking for signs of vampires in the pedestrians washed with shadows by the late afternoon sun. He didn't blame Tony. He was doing the same thing.
He pulled up to the Secnav's gate house and opened the door for the marine MP on duty. He forked over Tony's and his IDs. A few minutes later, he drove to the garage, as directed. The lights in the mansion were on and shining, indicating that some sort of shindig was going down soon. He snorted, parked in front of the door farthest from the mansion, and climbed out. Tony mimicked him, leaning against the side of the car to wait. It wasn't long. Another MP opened the garage door and they went inside.
"Gibbs."
"Davenport."
Secnav Davenport sucked on his cigar, eyeing the two of them as if they were naughty sailors fresh from a long weekend of shore leave.
"What brings you here?"
Gibbs stared pointedly at the door, until Davenport waved his hand and it shut. Gibbs squared his shoulders. "The Initiative."
Davenport's eyes widened, then narrowed.
"We've got a problem," Gibbs said. Tony ducked his head, either to hide a wince or smirk.
Davenport stood, holding the stogie in between his fingers, poker face in place, and listened to the entire story laid bare before him. When Gibbs was finished, Davenport took another long puff on the cigar. "You've put me in a shit position, gunny."
"You were in a shit position whether I was involved or not, sir," Gibbs said.
Davenport sighed. "Fuck."
Tony shifted, but remained silent.
"Get a room tonight. Pay cash. Call the Harris kid in the morning and set up meeting. 10 is good. Don't tell him it's with me. Get a room or something in his hotel and have McGee sweep it. Have Harris bring the vampire."
Tony stiffened. "Vampires are real."
Davenport took a long hit on the cigar, the nodded. "Yes, son. They are."
Gibbs crossed tilted his head. "What are we going to do about Wilder?"
Davenport smiled. "Get rid of it, whatever it is. You don't need to know who runs the Initiative, Jethro, just that they should never have made this thing."
Gibbs raised an eyebrow. "Some people might argue that it could save the lives of servicemen and women in combat."
"Only if you can keep control of these things. Plans like these have a way of turning around and biting you on the ass. That vampire you saw today, Hostile 17, only thing that stopped it from eating you is that it didn't want to." Davenport grunted. "Maybe the Harris kid. Point is, they had it, they chipped it, listed it as an asset; it ended up a part of what brought their operation crashing down around their ears."
Gibbs nodded.
"See you tomorrow at ten."
"Sir," Gibbs said. Davenport stood aside and watched them leave.
Tony didn't say anything, which was unusual in itself, until they'd left the Secnav far behind. Gibbs didn't feel like breaking the silence and drove. First stop, an ATM.
"Vampires are real." Tony's voice sounded sure and competent. He'd assimilated the information then.
"Looks that way."
"That closes four cold cases. One in Peoria, two in Baltimore, and one at NCIS."
That brought Gibbs up short. There were vampires in Peoria? He blinked. "It won't close them."
"No, I guess we can't stamp vampire victim on the cover and file it away. It does close the investigation, though. At least the one at NCIS."
Gibbs frowned. "Which one? Munoz?"
"No, my money's on cult victim for Munoz. Whitaker, the petty officer that looked like a supermodel. Exsanguinated from the right femoral, and then the body disappeared three days later." Tony drummed his fingers on his leg. "I wonder if Spike would know how to find her, if she got vamped."
"Harris might."
"He's an odd duck," Tony said. "Seems like the world's oldest class clown, but. . . ."
"Yeah, but. Wonder what he's into."
"We can always ask."
Gibbs grunted. He flashed back to the conversation he'd overheard in the jail's hallway, between the kid and the lawyers. He had a few questions for the kid. Gibbs put it into drive and decided on a roundabout trip to the hotel Harris and the vampire were located in, with a stop at the Base Exchange for a few toiletries and some cash.
It didn't take long to get through the BX. Tony, as expected, bitched about the lack of serious designer labels, but wasn't such a stickler that he didn't purchase three outfits. Three! Gibbs only needed a new shirt and a standard shaving kit. His ex-wives had spent less time dithering over perfume than Tony did with the cologne selection, before he abruptly decided to do without. He watched Tony's production with his eyebrows raised, trying to decide if this was a show put on solely for his benefit in some odd DiNozzo way of thinking, or if this was the way Tony really did shop.
Tony strapped the seat belt in. "I thought you got all of your clothes at Sears."
Gibbs shook his head and started the car. "Better deals, no taxes, and they have sandpaper."
"It's just a shame to waste all of that," Tony waved hand at Gibbs, "with all of," there was a pause, then another, but more curt hand wave, "that."
Huh. Gibbs pulled out of the parking lot and headed toward the hotel.
"You're a decent enough looking guy, Boss. You should invest in a decent wardrobe."
"If it isn't machine washable, it isn't decent."
"And the Old Spice? Forget it! They're doing great stuff with wood scents that you'd like."
Gibbs glared at the road. "I'm not a makeover project, DiNozzo."
"All I'm saying is that you could benefit from stuff that brings out your natural, er, Gibbsness."
Gibbs spent the next, very satisfying, few minutes imagining Anthony DiNozzo as a marine. If anyone needed to be restricted to a uniform for his own good, it was Tony. If his sartorial choices were limited to inspection day uniform and whichever daily uniform was cleanest, he might learn a thing or two about how the other half lived. He smirked. "I tell you what, DiNozzo," he said abruptly cutting off a flow of discussion about classical cuts and freedom of movement, "you can give me a makeover, DiNozzo style, but you'll have to get a makeover, marine style, first."
Tony's hand went to his hair. "Uh, I can't pull off the marine cut, boss."
"I'll leave your hair alone." Gibbs smiled at the thought of putting Tony through a one man bootcamp. You could take the gunny out of the marines, but he'd still be a gunny.
"Uh, I'll pass. Thanks." Tony's exaggerated shudder made the entire car shiver. "Yeah, you enjoy Sears and I'll keep my Zegna."
Gibbs pulled into the underground parking of the Marriott.
Tony shook his head. "You and McGee. Completely hopeless. Not as hopeless as Ziva, but at least she has an excuse."
"What's that?"
"She's still stuck in a war zone." Tony climbed out of the car and stretched. "She has an excuse for driving like she's in a war zone, boss. You don't."
Gibbs held back a chuckle. "Rule 12, DiNozzo."
Tony snorted. "I like Ziva, most of the time, but she needs a deprogrammer. I have no idea what kind of shit her life has been like, but I know it's been crap. She needs help, not a boyfriend."
Gibbs lifted an eyebrow and led the way to the elevator. "A deprogrammer, DiNozzo? She's Mossad, not in a cult."
"Is there really that much difference between the way special operations people are taught to think and react than the way cult members are brainwashed? Sure, special ops people have a good reason and purpose for their training and cults are just wrong, but the ends don't mean that the means are all that much different. I'm not a profiler, but even I can tell that not all of that is PTSD. A lot of it is training. You're like Ziva, only more deprogrammed." Tony shrugged and thumbed both elevator call buttons. "Once a marine, always a marine, but you get that you're in the civilian world now, and not in a war zone and you can react like a civilian when you want to."
Gibbs frowned and stared at the closed elevator doors. He wasn't sure what he should make of Tony's insight, for lack of a better word. "Ziva's a liaison. She's subject to recall."
He felt Tony's eyes on his face, boring a hole into his profile. He didn't react. Tony sighed after a moment, and looked at the doors, too. "If they can call her back to her old job, then she really shouldn't be here, boss."
Gibbs could hear the creak of the elevator as it approached. "She's fine."
Tony sighed again, sounding a bit more sad this time. "We'll make her soft. She'll forget to be in her war zone all the time someday, boss, turn more and more civilian." He shrugged. "She already is, somewhat. And when she goes back, well. . . ."
Gibbs clenched his teeth. He knew that, knew it well. If they put her back in the field, she wouldn't be ready for it.
Tony stepped into the elevator before the doors had opened completely. "Maybe she won't get called back."
Gibbs didn't say anything, just pushed the button to the lobby. He never put much faith in maybes.
***
"Should get you a collar, pet," Spike said out of the blue.
Xander's butt was facing his vamp while he dug around in his duffel for something appropriate to wear on his hot date with Spike. He'd never had to come up with a dinner-dancing-demon slaying outfit before. He'd briefly---briefly!---thought of calling Buffy for some fashion advice. She did go through high school dressed for both slaying and meeting up with her hunky, deadboy hunny. But, it was bad enough that she was going to have plenty of opportunities to torture him by throwing his dating the evil undead commentary back in his face, he didn't need a make-over on top of it. He could survive the pointing out of his hypocritical choice of boyfriend these days, but he couldn't survive a make-over. Not ever.
He looked over his shoulder. "What?"
"Collar for you. Thick bit of brown leather with spikes, I'd say. Something that's a bit strong, a bit tough, and a bit tender."
Xander frowned. "What are you talking about?"
Spike prowled over, a bare strip of flesh between the top of his jeans and bottom of his tee shirt flashing Xander provocatively with every step. Spike trailed his fingers across Xander's throat. "Should put a collar on you. Get a tag with my name on it."
"Just to be perfectly clear here, Evil Undead, you can call me pet because that's your weirdo British way of talking, but I am not your pet because that's the weirdo vampire way of playing with their food."
Spike just smirked at that.
"No, uh-uh, not happening."
Spike's hand curled around the back of Xander's neck and brought their bodies flush together. "Who's the Big Bad, pet?"
Xander rolled his eye. "Duh. You."
"What makes the Big Bad the Big Bad?"
"Snark and bleach?"
Spike smiled. "Power. Demons fear me. I beat the First Evil, pet."
Xander rolled his eye. "Demons don't respect you for that."
"No, but they do respect my power. Takes bollocks and strength to take on the First. I did. I'm here, First isn't."
Xander frowned at that. "What's that got to do with anything?"
"Beating the First is a thing, but no one has ever beaten you lot."
"So?"
"You aren't an idiot, pup."
Xander tilted his head a bit, as if in thought, but more to watch Spike's eyes dilate at the new arch in his neck. "Thought I was a 'lackbrain,' oh mighty Big Bad?"
Spike scoffed. "Point is, demon world hasn't made up its mind yet. Am I the Big Bad or the Slayer's hanger-on?" Spike nodded toward the cooler. "Varshall's boy'll be telling tales about the Slayer's minion playing the minion for me. Demanding I get the respect I deserve. Gonna put the D.C. nightlife in a bit of a tizzy, it will."
Xander straightened his head and glared. "So not a minion, here."
"Doesn't matter what you really are, pet. Point is, you wear my collar and demons'll think I have more power."
"I won't act like a pet," he said before he even knew he'd decided to go along with this crazy Spike Plan.
Spike smiled. It lit up his face like a, uh, face-lighty-up-thing. Made him stunning and beautiful. "Even better, pet. Even better. Knickers will get in a twist all over when the Slayer's boy voluntarily puts on my collar."
"I think we should save it for kinky sex games, fang face."
"It's a good idea, pet, trust me."
"Last time the evil undead had a plan to use me to play power games with another demon, you saw right through it."
Spike shrugged. "Peaches never could put the lump rattling in his skull to good use. Beauty of my plan, pet, is that it's true. You would wear it because you wanted to. Demons attach whatever meanings they want to it."
Xander could feel the doubt bubbling up from the place that still whispered words like Zeppo and donut boy. "Would you have put a collar on Buffy, if, you know, you would have been, you know, in a place to kind of do that back in the 'Dale?"
"No," Spike said after a few moments. Xander stiffened and pulled back. Spike sighed softly and cupped his cheeks gently, in a way that made it seem almost affectionate. "Pay attention, Xander. I would've put on a collar and said it was from her, had it come to that. Slayer has to be the Big Good. Has to have power to lord over demons, yeah?"
Xander felt his lips pulling down mulishly. "Yeah."
"She put on a collar, even from the Big Bad hisself, and she loses some of her power. Loses respect. Some of the lesser demons who run from her might be thinking they could maybe take her. And she spends more time fighting." Spike smiled. "You, though, you're hers. Her minion. Her supporter. Her friend. Her Scoobie. You don't have the same kind of power. Your power is different. You don’t have to be the Big Good because you're a weapon the Big Good has. Demons don't understand your power, but they do respect it."
Xander wasn't so frowny now and it was kind of irritating. Buffy wasn't the boss of him and all owner of the lackies and minions. Buffy was his friend, his bud, one of his girls. But the average demon understood friendship about as well as Xander understood German. He knew it when he saw it and could maybe pretend to be knowledge-boy because he could say guten morgen, Oktoberfest, and beer. Demons wouldn't know why Xander spend his life helping Buffy, they'd just know he did for some human reason.
His eye narrowed suspiciously, in what he hoped was menacing but suspected wasn't because he could feel his bottom lip start to jut out. "And why the sudden thing with the collar?"
Spike suddenly acquired a defensive, almost sheepish slump to his shoulders. "Well, ah, I might have offended a few demons, being on the side of you white hats. Now that I might survive whatever do Peaches has planned, I should drop by a few locals and have a spot of tea and pleasantries."
Xander relaxed. "Now that makes more sense. I didn't think we were to the kinky sex games stage of your courtship yet. You're an old fashioned vamp."
Spike smirked. "Needs must, and all that."
"Fine, we'll go get a collar. But no make-overs. If your fancy demon power brokers don't like the Xan-man the way he's dressed, they can just build a bridge and get over it."
"I'll get you into leather pants yet, pet."
He pictured himself in a pair of leather pants, and knowing Spike's sense of taste, probably a silk shirt on top. With his dark hair, he'd look kind of Angelussy, a clumsy, one-eyed Angelus, but the look on Willow's face would be priceless. He'd probably get a face full of holy water as soon as he walked in the door. He grinned. Or if he knocked on the door, like he was pretending he forgot his key or something and needed help getting inside…. "Oh, I don't think that'll be a problem, bleachy."
Spike eyed him in a suspiciousy way. Xander just grinned wider. "What're you on about, boy?"
"Can you imagine Slayer Central if I showed up dressed like Angelus?"
Spike's eyebrows went up, then went down again, this time with the pink tip of his tongue sliding out a bit.
Xander's grin shifted into a more affectionate amusement. "Like that idea, huh?"
"Might do, pet."
"I've never been a leather pants fan, but if you buy me some, I'll---"
Spike's growling, along with the sudden knocking on the door shut up him up. Spike sneered again, then slumped into his throne-chair. "It's the government gits again."
"Oh for the…." Xander stomped over to the door and flung it open. DiNozzo had his hand up, about to knock, with Gibbs frowning beside him. "Unless you've got the bad jailed guy in the trunk of your car, this can wait until tomorrow."
DiNozzo looked down. "I thought you'd be more of a Princess Leia fan than a Yoda fan."
Xander looked down, too. Nothing was sticking out inappropriately and his Yoda briefs were clean. He refused to be embarrassed, even though this was just about as bad as the time in high school when, well, there were too many to choose from. "I gotta date. Good bye." Xander tried to slam the door, but Gibbs caught it.
"We need to have a word with you," Gibbs was saying while stepping forward. He ran into Xander who had no intention of moving.
"Yeah, about that. We don't need to have a word with you so, bye now."
Gibbs apparently didn't want to get into a wrestling match with a guy in his best Yoda briefs. Gibbs shot a few looks down the hallway. "It's about Wilder."
Xander put on his expectant face.
"Inside."
"Let 'em in, pet."
At least Spike was dressed this time. Just missing his usual silk shirt and his duster. Xander backed up to let them in, and glared at Spike. "You are so not the boss of me."
"Mr. Harris, Mr. Spike," Gibbs said, looking directly at Spike with the kind of gonna kill it before it kills me intensity some of Riley's buddies had on whenever they'd been around on patrol. DiNozzo hovered anxiously, somewhere between backing up Gibbs and bolting out of the door.
Xander dug the last clean pair of jeans out of his duffel and tugged them on.
Spike was obviously just as impressed as he was, because he tossed off a two fingered flip off and said, "Wanker. Lackey."
Gibbs tightened up a bit around the mouth, but he had a hell of a poker face. Spike, if anything, just lounged his way into his amused Shere Kahn impression. DiNozzo shrugged and stared in open fascination at Spike.
"Out with it, wanker. What's in your jail?"
"The hair burned black."
"Great," Xander said after he finished pulling on his best tee shirt. It was a white Hanes that he wore for important meetings. "I knew Ethan didn't raise the dead."
"Ethan?" DiNozzo flicked his eyes toward Xander for a moment, then back to Spike.
Spike quirked a lip. "'M not a trick pony, boy."
Xander shrugged. "Yeah. Anyway. You guys just do what you do best. It can't cause trouble in jail, especially since it thinks it's a human."
There might have been a bit of squirming in the two cops.
"You told it, then?" Spike said.
"It noticed something was wrong," Gibbs said flatly.
Xander huffed. How stupid could you be? "It didn't occur to you to take the hair to another room and burn it? I've seen Law and Order. You could have told it you were drug testing it or something."
"Not without a court order."
"Shouldn't much matter anyway. Homonculi don't have any powers and if it talks, you humans will just think it's gone off its nut." Spike made a shooing motion with his fingers, as if he couldn't be bothered to give his full attention. "Now that's settled, bugger off."
Gibbs stood his ground. "We need to discuss options."
Xander rolled his eye. "Just prosecute him. It's not like anyone can tell he's not human, well, unless you have a vampire there to test all of your criminals."
Gibbs shook his head. "Not good enough. We need to know how to deal with this thing. Meet us 10 am tomorrow, room 708."
"Piss off."
Gibbs looked pretty ready to start shooting. DiNozzo spread his hands out. "We can't just put it in prison as if it were human. We don't know what we're dealing with and we don't want anyone to get hurt. More importantly, we don't want that thing to get away with what it did, or to get loose to do it to something, er, someone else."
Spike grunted then, eyes narrowed. "You're up to something."
DiNozzo flashed a grin. It was shakey. "Always am, but I'm right about this."
There was several moments of silence. Xander tried to figure out what to say or do. Spike tilted his head. "All right. We'll meet." Spike smirked then. "Just remember, lackey, I'm the only thing stopping me from eating you. Don't fuck us over."
"Wow, Spike, an Americanism!"
Spike tilted his head, looking more at Xander than the feds. He had his amused with you face on. "We've used fuck in Jolly Old long before anyone in America spoke English."
"Fine, bring history into it if you have to, fang face." Xander scrunched his face up.
"Will do, pet."
"Let's go, DiNozzo," Gibbs said. "Harris." Gibbs bobbed his head in Xander's general direction, one of those super manly, hey man, I'm the dude, head bobs. Gibbs then glared at Spike, before turning around and heading for the door.
"Be careful, wanker. Never know when something's looking at your neck."
"Spike," Xander said. Well, it might have been a whine instead of a said, but he didn't think it was a whine. But it might have been because, really, this was Spike and Spiteful Spike was a Sexy Spike.
The door shut behind the feds with a decisive click, one that said Gibbs would rather it had been a slam. Spike bounced to his feet. "Let's go."
Xander frowned at him. "You weren't in this big of a hurry before they got here. You were more interested in looking for footie on the telly."
Spike gave him a look that reminded him of the last time Buffy had smelled his shoes. "You are never to say footie or telly again. It's worse than Angelus' singing voice. Don't do it."
Xander rolled his eye. "Whatever, fang face. Why are you in such a hurry all of the sudden, anyway?"
"The jail is a mile away. Shouldn't have taken six hours for them to wander down there, burn a bit of hair, and return, should it? They did something, something we won't like."
Xander was back to frowny face. "That's not a good thing."
"Was planning to take you to a pub or two, show off my pet Scoobie."
"Hey! Not a pet."
Spike scoffed. "Now, think we'll drop by a demon I know, works for your government. See what's doing with these two."
"Demons work for the government? That explains the IRS."
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