Dreams Hide In The Cracks Lonely People Walk Over I
Going back to old-old (but not oldest) routes of my fandom's I thought I'd try a Spike/Xander (yes BtVS) fic. Title is from Count Me The Stars by Kylie Johnson.
Time, Spike mused, was an odd concept. Measured in breaths and heartbreaks and tear-stained smiling faces. It had been ten years since the one infamous Scooby gang had really been a gang. Oh they still kept in contact, most of them anyway, but they were no longer the true family they once were. So, when Willow had asked Spike to find Xander, to invite him to the Wicca’s wedding she did so without any indication that anything was wrong in the brunette’s life.
Since Xander had left them he had emailed the redhead monthly updates of his life, each letter preciously guarded by its recipient. But never in all the missives had it indicated that there was even the smallest thing wrong. Always full of funny observations about the strangest things and witticisms that seemed second nature to the boy.
However, the man who stood in front of Spike was someone completely different. Dressed in form hugging jeans and a sheer shirt, all straight black, and with that distinct tingle to his senses that said demon the blonde could hardly reconcile this man with the boy-child he’d known. The most difficult point of all to comprehend was his face. Hardened, grown up, beautiful, and flawless. Not a hint of the scars he had obtained in Sunnydale, and both eyes trained exactly on Spike with a slight smile on his face.
When the (beautiful, stunning, soddin’ hell why did I never realise he was going to turn into that) ex-Scooby took a step forward his expression changed, shutting down completely, and Spike realised he’d taken a subconscious step backwards. Resigned understanding filled the brunette’s eyes and he turned away, quickly disappearing into the dancing throng of the club - the demon club. Letting loose a string of expletives that made a few of the patrons closer to him turn and raise their eyebrows he quickly followed the intoxicating scent of the boy. He still smelt of Xander, only now it was stronger, richer, like he was covered from head to toe in dark chocolate (and wasn’t that just an image to keep with him for those lonely nights?).
Tracking the boy-turned-man to where he was dancing with a blue skinned demon Spike had to stop for a moment and admire the brunette’s fluid movements before stepping up to his back and tilting his head so he could be heard over the pounding music.
“Thought you might like to know your lovely blue Jane is a John, pet.” He said, then immediately forgot the words that had left his mouth the second the boy turned to face him.
Buggering Christ on a cross the boy hadn’t aged! And it was true, he looked perhaps a year older than when Spike had last seen him all those years ago.
The words slipped out of Spike’s mouth before he could catch them; “What are you?”