Fic: Teenage Dirtbag - 15/? - NC-17
Title: Teenage Dirtbag
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Season 1, so contains young Xander. Some parts may contain mature themes, violence, and graphic sex. You have been warned! Also, this fic is likely to be very long and will be updated whenever the muse feels like it.
Summary: Teenage life on a Hellmouth. Spike and Angel track down Dru. Xander does a spot of reading.
Beta'd by kitty_poker1
Written for my darling amejisuto
Previous parts are HERE
Xander was lying on his bed. He’d been lying there for twenty minutes, hugging his pillow and trying desperately not to cry, and he was damn well gonna stay there until his brain could accept the truth.
The compendium Giles had given him had previously sailed across the room and now lay collapsed in a pathetic looking heap on top of Xander’s old toy chest amidst a sea of stuffed animals and a plastic Enterprise C.
Spike was a killer. Spike was a murderer. Spike had slaughtered women and children and old people with their pet poodles.
Spike was a monster.
And the worst thing was that Xander had already known it all. He wasn’t stupid. Spike was a vampire and that meant only one thing. Blood suckage and mucho death. Okay, so that was two things, but the point was still the same.
“Fucking bastard,” Xander muttered under his breath. Why did Spike have to be different? Why did he have to be charming and funny and sexy?
Xander sat up and frowned over at the book. Why was Spike so different?
Throwing his pillow behind him - ‘cause a sack of polyester certainly didn’t have the answers he needed - Xander got up and retrieved the book. He turned it over in his hands while he sat back on the bed and thanked the gods that he hadn’t damaged it. Well, apart from a couple of crumpled pages. Oh well, Giles would never notice…
Xander quickly smoothed the pages back down as best he could and settled back against his pillow to read the rest of the vampire chapter. If he couldn’t have Spike then the least Xander could do was find out why.
**
A week of bar crawling around underground clubs, gambling rooms and demon strip joints, and Spike had decided he didn’t much like LA. The surface was okay, the normal parts that were visible to the naked human eye - the nice boutiques, the spotless offices, the expensive apartments, the ghettos and the odd drive-by-shooting. It was everything a person could expect and hope for from a major US city.
But the other parts, the dark, creepy, demon parts, were rife with blood and torture and creatures that should only exist in the nightmares of children.
It seemed that every type of demon that walked the earth had a holiday home or a relative in LA.
It wasn’t to Spike’s taste. Like any other vampire, Spike was more than happy to indulge in a little bit of mischief, a little bit of blood letting and a little bit of play, but the places he’d seen in the last week were enough to make him long for a thatched cottage in Somerset.
And this place was no better.
“She’s here.” And by the slightly curled lip and disgusted expression on Angel’s face, he thought the same.
Spike nodded and looked up the stairs. He didn’t move.
Angel waited.
“I don’t get it,” Spike said. “Why do people live like this? What’s the fucking point?”
Angel shook his head and toed away some fabric on the floor that could once have been clothing. “I lived like this once. Destitute. Broken. Nothing to exist for. Nothing to…”
Spike rolled his head back in dramatic gesture of irritation. “You and that bloody soul; gets on my tits, it does. Put a sock in it.” He started up the stairs. Angel followed silently.
They were in a house at the edge of one of the poorer parts of town. From the lack of furniture, the writing on the walls and the piles of empty cardboard boxes, food wrappers and cigarette butts, it clearly was not a family home. Spike glanced over the banister on his way up to the first floor and noticed a table below him covered with tiny bags of weed and a small amount of cash. He hoped he remembered to pocket it all on the way out.
The stench of human waste was less intense on the first floor, Spike decided. But perhaps that was because of the alluring smell of human blood and the intense bouquet of Drusilla’s perfume. It was very distracting.
He knew where she was, which room. He could sense her, feel her, just as Angel could. He stopped to collect himself. It had been so long since he’d seen her, touched her, kissed her and he wasn’t sure that he could bear that emptiness a moment longer. Angel’s hand touched and held his arm.
Spike turned and nodded. Angel was a ponce but he was still family. Angel was here for him. He’d helped him track down Drusilla and was still here, offering his silent support.
Or perhaps the hand on his arm and the stoic expression were a warning that a firm staking was not completely out of the question.
Whatever.
Spike didn’t care. He shrugged off Angel’s hand and strode along the hallway and into the room. “Dru, baby.”
**
“Spike!” Drusilla smiled and stood from her place on the floor. She opened her arms wide and wrapped them around Spike’s shoulders when he rushed to greet her.
“Where have you been, Drusilla?” Spike asked. He buried his face in her neck and hair.
“Here, there, everywhere. Oh my Spike, but where have you been?”
“Looking for you, luv. Bloody hell, I missed you.” Spike looked up when Drusilla’s hands gently touched his neck and jaw. He closed his eyes and sighed when she kissed him. Her lips were colder than he remembered and her hands so much frailer and lighter. His own hands went to her waist and he pressed them together and kissed her back with everything he had. Floorboards creaked behind him, signalling Angel’s departure, but Spike paid him no mind.
“Missed you,” he said when he’d pulled back.
Drusilla sighed dramatically and went back to join her carpet picnic. The other guests did not seem to have noticed her departure, but she apologised to Brown Ted, Cynthia the Rag Doll and a dead child anyway.
Spike sat with them, grimacing at the way the child’s skin had turned a sickly green and her face had puffed up to twice its normal size. This was why Drusilla needed him. Without constant guidance she did…weird things. Things that revolted even him.
“What are you doing here, pet?” Spike asked. “This isn’t a nice place.”
Drusilla pouted and shook her head. “No, it isn’t.” She smiled then and leaned over to Spike and whispered. “I’m going to kill them all.”
Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?” He looked over at the little girl.
Drusilla hit him. It was playful and more of a tap but Spike still rubbed his arm and pretended that it hurt. “What was that for?” he asked.
“I’m not going to kill the little ones.”
Spike nodded slowly, not quite knowing what to expect. Drusilla had never been a fan of children. Seen and not heard. But she did have a weakness for little girls with bows in their hair. Just like this one.
Spike couldn’t tell, but he guessed that, when she’d been alive, this little girl would have pleased Drusilla greatly. He could just imagine them playing together and giggling. It wasn’t even unheard of for Drusilla to occasionally let one go instead of draining her once they were done having tea. But obviously not this one.
Drusilla hit him again.
This time it did hurt. “Ow!”
“Naughty Spike!” Drusilla chided. “I didn’t kill her. I found her. Already dead. Already snuffed and smothered and gone. We were having a farewell party.” She leaned in to whisper again, turning her head to the back of the room as she spoke. “I killed them, though.”
Spike glanced over his shoulder and noticed two adults. The man looked as though his neck had been broken. The woman barely looked like a woman anymore.
“She was her own,” Drusilla explained. “She should have taken care. Like you always took care of me. And now I’m going to kill them all. Heroin in the blood tastes icky, Spike. I don’t like it.”
Spike noted the use of the past tense. “Why did you leave me?” he suddenly asked.
Drusilla stood and her gaze pierced him, and Spike couldn’t decide if she was angry or sad or just plain old neurotic. “I saw him, Spike. I saw you with another.” She sniffed. “You love him more than me.”
“Eh?” Spike immediately thought of Xander, but he couldn’t be who Drusilla was talking about, not if she’d left because she’d seen him with someone. And there had
been no one else, not since they’d passed through Mexico together and Drusilla had picked up a nice young morsel for him to chew on while she watched. “Pet, I haven’t…”
“You have. You will. They told me.”
“Not the bloody stars again?” Spike asked, his shoulders slumping.
Drusilla rolled her eyes and smiled faintly. “Silly Spike. The stars always sing to me. This time they screamed for me to get away. So loud. So loud.” She covered her ears as her smile faded. “I can’t be with you because of him.”
“What…? Dru… Wait…I don’t get it…”
Drusilla stepped closer and sniffed Spike’s neck. “They told me he’d be at the Mouth of Hell. And I know his skin feels warm against yours. So much warmer than mine.”
Spike was beginning to get a bad feeling.
“He’s pretty.” Drusilla sighed and Spike’s heart almost broke at the sad look on her face. “Dark eyes and dark hair, just how you like them. I wish we could share.”
“We can!” She had to be talking about Xander, Spike thought. And maybe Xander would take some persuading, but Spike was confident that he would come around to the idea of a threesome pretty damn quickly.
“No, my love. They won’t let me.” Drusilla whined and turned away, her long skirt twirling and fluttering at her ankles. “Gone, gone, gone, Spike. Ashes to ashes, dust in your eyes.” She growled and turned again. Her arm swung back and she delivered a harsh slap that sent Spike flying over the dead parents and into the wall.
The wall vibrated under the force of Spike’s body and, when he stumbled away from it and gradually got his senses back, he wondered how he hadn’t gone straight through into the other room.
Angel was back, standing in the doorway and looking back and forth between Spike and Drusilla, a confused look painted on his face.
“Now go! You’ll be the death of me!” Drusilla yelled. Her eyes were wide and furious and as her fangs dropped she hissed between them to make her point. “Go, Spike!”
“No!” Spike yelled back. “I can’t leave you!” He held out his hand and approached Drusilla with more caution than usual. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen or what you think I’ve done, but…”
Angel came forward, his fists clenching and his muscles readying for a fight as he watched Drusilla’s body tighten and coil to strike. “Spike, be careful.”
What do you care? Fucker. “Dru, luv. Come on, baby. Come with me. It’ll be just like it was. I know we’ve had our ups and downs. We weren’t perfect; I know that. But we can try. Okay, there is someone else. I admit that, and I was gonna share; swear it, luv. I met him in Sunnydale while I was looking for you. But it’s over now anyway. Not compatible, and all that rot.” Spike ignored the increasingly bemused look on Angel’s face. “It’s over, yeah? Come with me.”
Drusilla relaxed in a moment and sat down on the bed with a sulky bounce. “It will never be over. You and the Slayer’s boy and the payment is so harsh.”
“What’s this?” Angel asked, his brow more furrowed that it had ever been in his entire existence.
“Keep out of it!” Spike snapped.
Drusilla sing-songed and twirled her hair around one finger. “My Spikey has a boyfriend.” The finger went to her lips and she whispered again. “Bad bears. Shhhh. Don’t tell Goldilocks, Angel sweet; wouldn’t want to upset.”
“Who is this?” Angel demanded.
“No one. Keep your fat nose out of it,” Spike said.
“I want to know.”
“Yeah? And I want to win the lottery…”
“Spike!” Angel lunged forward, gripping Spike by the lapels of his leather coat and shoving him back into the wall. “You will tell me.”
Spike twisted in Angel’s grip. His leg came up and kicked out. “Fuck you.”
Angel recovered quickly and threw a punch that was directed at Spike’s face. At the last moment Spike ducked out of the way and Angel’s fist sunk into the wall. “What have you done, Spike?” Angel asked while he removed his hand from the flaking plaster.
Spike threw up his hands. “Why does everybody around here assume that I’ve done something?! I’ve done fuck all, mate.”
“You’ve done something with a friend of Buffy’s,” Angel pointed out. “And if you tell me it’s Alexander Harris I’m going to vomit.”
It took a moment for Spike to connect that name with Xander’s.
Spike’s face changed into his demon mask. His fangs extended and he roared and charged, forcing Angel out of the door and onto the landing. “You take that back! There’s nothing wrong with Xander!” He punctuated each word with a punch.
Spike finally pushed both palms out and struck Angel in the chest, knocking him over the banister and back down to the first floor. With a grin and a leap, Spike followed him down. He picked up a chair and smashed it against the wall.
Angel’s eyes widened at the remaining piece of wood in Spike’s hand. “Hey. Don’t do this, Spike. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You insulted Xander,” Spike pointed out.
“I didn’t.” Angel got to his feet and backed away. “I meant that the thought of you playing around with one of Buffy’s friends makes me feel really nervous and really sick. It’s not a good idea, Spike.”
Spike lowered his weapon. “Oh. Sorry, mate. My mistake. I’m feeling a bit fragile, you know?”
Angel nodded then lifted his chin at the stake. “You can get rid of that now.”
“Why?” Spike asked. “Perfectly good bit of… Oh, I see. You thought I was gonna dust you, didn’t you?”
Angel hesitated. “…No. No, no…”
Spike laughed and held up the stake. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“Right. Of course.”
Angel dusted himself down and started back up the stairs. He didn’t bother to turn at Spike’s muttered declaration of, “Might have stuck it up your…”
“She’s gone,” Angel interrupted. He rested one hand on the doorframe and glanced around the room they’d just a minute ago left. Spike arrived at his side and pushed past him.
“What the bloody hell…?” Spike scanned the room and looked at the open window. His heart sank and he toyed with the idea of using the stake on himself for being so stupid.
Spike walked over to the window and leaned on the sill. He didn’t speak for a long time and, while Angel made no sound behind him, Spike knew he was still there - waiting.
He could chase Dru through the streets and, hell, he might even catch her, but then what? Dru was a head-case, a nutter. But she was nearly always right. Spike couldn’t make sense of what she was saying anyway and perhaps that was because he didn’t want to.
Whatever her reasons were, only one thing really mattered right at that moment.
She didn’t want to be with him.
He wasn’t worth anything. Not to her. Or at least, not enough.
Spike sucked in a sharp breath and turned his head so he could see Angel out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll not be going back to Sunnydale.”
If Angel was relieved, he didn’t show it. “Where will you go?”
Spike turned back and gazed out over the coloured lights of the city. “Somewhere without all this neon shit. Fucking hate the city.” His voice was soft, defeated. Sad.
Angel nodded and looked down at the floor. When he looked back up, Spike was gone.
**
Xander sipped at his coke and stared out across the dance floor. It was Saturday and he’d agreed to meet Buffy and Willow here at the Bronze for a spot of pre-patrol fun.
He was early.
In fact, he’d arrived just as the club had opened. Since then he’d found a prime seat, bagged it, watched the club slowly fill up with other teenagers and nursed his one coke for an hour. He wasn’t made of money and he wanted to buy his girls a drink when they arrived. And besides, if he got up to go to the bar he’d lose the table. There were already two girls eyeing it up. Although why they were smiling and batting their eyelashes at it was way beyond Xander’s imagination.
Oh, they were smiling at him. Eeep. Xander pretended not to notice and looked instead at the band setting up on the stage.
All in all, Xander had had a pretty good day. He’d stayed up late Friday night and been allowed to sleep in. At around eleven he’d been roused by the smell of singed bacon. He’d followed his nose and come face to face with his mother, smiling away at the stove, and five minutes later he was presented with a steaming plate of bacon and eggs. It was a good job he liked his bacon extra crispy.
After the heartburn had dissipated, Xander had pulled a book from under his bed and spent the rest of the afternoon reading it. This was now the second book Giles had lent him from his personal stash.
And Xander hadn’t thought about Spike once.
Nope.
No way.
Not once.
Two hundred and three times, actually.
But it wasn’t all bad. At least now he knew that there could never be anything between them. At least now he knew that he’d been very stupid. He’d played with his life and he was damn lucky to still be on the side of the living.
That wouldn’t happen again.
Spike was different to most of the vampires that Xander had come across since Buffy’s arrival in Sunnydale. But that was because all the vampires he tended to watch Buffy dust or nearly get eaten by were fledges. They were brand-new-fresh-from-the-gave fledglings.
Spike had never been like that. He’d never been mindless and stupid.
Spike was stronger.
Spike was a Childe of Aurelius.
Childer were drastically stronger that fledges. They were far more than moronic bloodsucking demons. They had logic and cunning and a residual layer of the person they once were.
They had the man and the demon and they chose to be what they were. Uh, which was evil. Obviously.
In Xander’s mind, that put Spike way above any common fledge or the likes of Angel.
Spike could have killed him at any time, but he chose not to. He chose to be the man and not the demon.
A fledge would have killed him and Xander was fairly certain that Angel would kill him if it weren’t for the soul. The bloodlust was still there.
Angel wasn’t tame. He was on a leash.
Oh, yes. Xander was fast becoming an expert in all things vampire. He’d finished the second book and had even considered dropping in on Giles for another one. But then he’d realised it was the weekend. There were limits.
“Hi, Xander.”
Xander turned his head at the sound of Willow’s voice. “Hey, best friend.” It made him feel warm inside to see her smile. He’d been neglecting Willow lately and he knew it. “Ready to get jiggy with the…? Okay, I can’t pull that off, can I?”
Willow shook her head. “Nope. But that doesn’t mean you should stop trying.”
“Stop trying what?” Buffy asked, stepping out from behind Willow.
“Buffster!” Xander greeted. “You’re looking Buffylicious. What’s the what?”
“Yeah.” Willow’s eyes narrowed but her expression stayed playful. “You do look…all glowy and is that a new outfit?”
Embarrassed, Buffy fidgeted with her purse and perched herself on a chair. “This old thing?” she said. “Naah, I’ve had it…nearly a day now. Mom let me shop.”
There was suddenly a girly sort of sparkle in her eyes. When Xander saw it reflected in Willow’s he knew it was time for a hasty retreat. Shopping. Ack. “Drinks! Who wants drinks?!”
Willow jumped at the outburst and Buffy looked at him suspiciously. “Are you being weird again?” Buffy asked.
Xander shrugged and pulled some change and a few dollar bills from his pocket. “Of course! I would be being weird if I wasn’t being weird. You get me?”
Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes. “Weirdly, yes.”
Xander grinned. “Weirdo.” He turned away and counted his change on the way to the bar. He would take his time while the girls talked ‘shop’.
“Ooof!” Xander felt like a truck had hit him in the stomach. He looked up just in time to see Larry elbowing past him. “Hey! Pardon me!” Xander shouted after him. “Sorry if my stomach got in the way of your immediate need to be elsewhere!”
Larry stopped, turned and glared at Xander. “Get out of my face, Harris. I got bigger problems than a loser like you.”
It was one of those moments when Xander knew he should shut up. He knew that he should keep his mouth zipped and walk away.
But he didn’t. “I’m just saying a few manners wouldn’t hurt.”
Larry was still for a moment and there was a little spark of hope in Xander’s heart that perhaps Larry was going to walk away and Xander would have had the last word.
Larry snuffed it out.
With bared teeth and a cherry red face that looked as though it would burst at any moment, Larry charged towards Xander.
Xander considered running but he considered it for a little bit too long, and, before he knew it, Larry’s palms connected with Xander’s chest and shoved him back.
The force of the blow nearly knocked the wind from him but Xander stayed on his feet and stood his ground. Larry’s big hands came at him again and this time seized the fabric of his shirt and hauled him closer, nose to nose.
“You are a loser, Harris. Don’t ever get in my way again or I promise you’ll regret it.”
Inner Xander winced as outer Xander spoke. “I already regret it. Breath? Not so minty fresh.”
Larry didn’t bother with a clever retort. He simply grit his teeth and pulled back his fist.
Xander closed his eyes and expected to feel his nose collapsing into his face. He at least expected to see stars dancing behind his eyelids. Nope. Nothing.
Huh. Odd. He’d definitely heard the slap of flesh on flesh.
Cautiously, Xander opened one eye. What he saw made him open the other one immediately.
Standing with his hand wrapped tightly around Larry’s wrist was Angel.
TBC…
Teenage Dirtbag has been nominated at the Sunny D Awards. It's up for Best Characterisation for Xander, Best Pairing (Unconventional), Best Slash, and Best Unfinished. I would love it if you'd click the button below and vote for me. Thanks, guys!
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Warnings: Season 1, so contains young Xander. Some parts may contain mature themes, violence, and graphic sex. You have been warned! Also, this fic is likely to be very long and will be updated whenever the muse feels like it.
Summary: Teenage life on a Hellmouth. Spike and Angel track down Dru. Xander does a spot of reading.
Beta'd by kitty_poker1
Written for my darling amejisuto
Previous parts are HERE
Xander was lying on his bed. He’d been lying there for twenty minutes, hugging his pillow and trying desperately not to cry, and he was damn well gonna stay there until his brain could accept the truth.
The compendium Giles had given him had previously sailed across the room and now lay collapsed in a pathetic looking heap on top of Xander’s old toy chest amidst a sea of stuffed animals and a plastic Enterprise C.
Spike was a killer. Spike was a murderer. Spike had slaughtered women and children and old people with their pet poodles.
Spike was a monster.
And the worst thing was that Xander had already known it all. He wasn’t stupid. Spike was a vampire and that meant only one thing. Blood suckage and mucho death. Okay, so that was two things, but the point was still the same.
“Fucking bastard,” Xander muttered under his breath. Why did Spike have to be different? Why did he have to be charming and funny and sexy?
Xander sat up and frowned over at the book. Why was Spike so different?
Throwing his pillow behind him - ‘cause a sack of polyester certainly didn’t have the answers he needed - Xander got up and retrieved the book. He turned it over in his hands while he sat back on the bed and thanked the gods that he hadn’t damaged it. Well, apart from a couple of crumpled pages. Oh well, Giles would never notice…
Xander quickly smoothed the pages back down as best he could and settled back against his pillow to read the rest of the vampire chapter. If he couldn’t have Spike then the least Xander could do was find out why.
**
A week of bar crawling around underground clubs, gambling rooms and demon strip joints, and Spike had decided he didn’t much like LA. The surface was okay, the normal parts that were visible to the naked human eye - the nice boutiques, the spotless offices, the expensive apartments, the ghettos and the odd drive-by-shooting. It was everything a person could expect and hope for from a major US city.
But the other parts, the dark, creepy, demon parts, were rife with blood and torture and creatures that should only exist in the nightmares of children.
It seemed that every type of demon that walked the earth had a holiday home or a relative in LA.
It wasn’t to Spike’s taste. Like any other vampire, Spike was more than happy to indulge in a little bit of mischief, a little bit of blood letting and a little bit of play, but the places he’d seen in the last week were enough to make him long for a thatched cottage in Somerset.
And this place was no better.
“She’s here.” And by the slightly curled lip and disgusted expression on Angel’s face, he thought the same.
Spike nodded and looked up the stairs. He didn’t move.
Angel waited.
“I don’t get it,” Spike said. “Why do people live like this? What’s the fucking point?”
Angel shook his head and toed away some fabric on the floor that could once have been clothing. “I lived like this once. Destitute. Broken. Nothing to exist for. Nothing to…”
Spike rolled his head back in dramatic gesture of irritation. “You and that bloody soul; gets on my tits, it does. Put a sock in it.” He started up the stairs. Angel followed silently.
They were in a house at the edge of one of the poorer parts of town. From the lack of furniture, the writing on the walls and the piles of empty cardboard boxes, food wrappers and cigarette butts, it clearly was not a family home. Spike glanced over the banister on his way up to the first floor and noticed a table below him covered with tiny bags of weed and a small amount of cash. He hoped he remembered to pocket it all on the way out.
The stench of human waste was less intense on the first floor, Spike decided. But perhaps that was because of the alluring smell of human blood and the intense bouquet of Drusilla’s perfume. It was very distracting.
He knew where she was, which room. He could sense her, feel her, just as Angel could. He stopped to collect himself. It had been so long since he’d seen her, touched her, kissed her and he wasn’t sure that he could bear that emptiness a moment longer. Angel’s hand touched and held his arm.
Spike turned and nodded. Angel was a ponce but he was still family. Angel was here for him. He’d helped him track down Drusilla and was still here, offering his silent support.
Or perhaps the hand on his arm and the stoic expression were a warning that a firm staking was not completely out of the question.
Whatever.
Spike didn’t care. He shrugged off Angel’s hand and strode along the hallway and into the room. “Dru, baby.”
**
“Spike!” Drusilla smiled and stood from her place on the floor. She opened her arms wide and wrapped them around Spike’s shoulders when he rushed to greet her.
“Where have you been, Drusilla?” Spike asked. He buried his face in her neck and hair.
“Here, there, everywhere. Oh my Spike, but where have you been?”
“Looking for you, luv. Bloody hell, I missed you.” Spike looked up when Drusilla’s hands gently touched his neck and jaw. He closed his eyes and sighed when she kissed him. Her lips were colder than he remembered and her hands so much frailer and lighter. His own hands went to her waist and he pressed them together and kissed her back with everything he had. Floorboards creaked behind him, signalling Angel’s departure, but Spike paid him no mind.
“Missed you,” he said when he’d pulled back.
Drusilla sighed dramatically and went back to join her carpet picnic. The other guests did not seem to have noticed her departure, but she apologised to Brown Ted, Cynthia the Rag Doll and a dead child anyway.
Spike sat with them, grimacing at the way the child’s skin had turned a sickly green and her face had puffed up to twice its normal size. This was why Drusilla needed him. Without constant guidance she did…weird things. Things that revolted even him.
“What are you doing here, pet?” Spike asked. “This isn’t a nice place.”
Drusilla pouted and shook her head. “No, it isn’t.” She smiled then and leaned over to Spike and whispered. “I’m going to kill them all.”
Spike’s eyebrows shot up. “Yeah?” He looked over at the little girl.
Drusilla hit him. It was playful and more of a tap but Spike still rubbed his arm and pretended that it hurt. “What was that for?” he asked.
“I’m not going to kill the little ones.”
Spike nodded slowly, not quite knowing what to expect. Drusilla had never been a fan of children. Seen and not heard. But she did have a weakness for little girls with bows in their hair. Just like this one.
Spike couldn’t tell, but he guessed that, when she’d been alive, this little girl would have pleased Drusilla greatly. He could just imagine them playing together and giggling. It wasn’t even unheard of for Drusilla to occasionally let one go instead of draining her once they were done having tea. But obviously not this one.
Drusilla hit him again.
This time it did hurt. “Ow!”
“Naughty Spike!” Drusilla chided. “I didn’t kill her. I found her. Already dead. Already snuffed and smothered and gone. We were having a farewell party.” She leaned in to whisper again, turning her head to the back of the room as she spoke. “I killed them, though.”
Spike glanced over his shoulder and noticed two adults. The man looked as though his neck had been broken. The woman barely looked like a woman anymore.
“She was her own,” Drusilla explained. “She should have taken care. Like you always took care of me. And now I’m going to kill them all. Heroin in the blood tastes icky, Spike. I don’t like it.”
Spike noted the use of the past tense. “Why did you leave me?” he suddenly asked.
Drusilla stood and her gaze pierced him, and Spike couldn’t decide if she was angry or sad or just plain old neurotic. “I saw him, Spike. I saw you with another.” She sniffed. “You love him more than me.”
“Eh?” Spike immediately thought of Xander, but he couldn’t be who Drusilla was talking about, not if she’d left because she’d seen him with someone. And there had
been no one else, not since they’d passed through Mexico together and Drusilla had picked up a nice young morsel for him to chew on while she watched. “Pet, I haven’t…”
“You have. You will. They told me.”
“Not the bloody stars again?” Spike asked, his shoulders slumping.
Drusilla rolled her eyes and smiled faintly. “Silly Spike. The stars always sing to me. This time they screamed for me to get away. So loud. So loud.” She covered her ears as her smile faded. “I can’t be with you because of him.”
“What…? Dru… Wait…I don’t get it…”
Drusilla stepped closer and sniffed Spike’s neck. “They told me he’d be at the Mouth of Hell. And I know his skin feels warm against yours. So much warmer than mine.”
Spike was beginning to get a bad feeling.
“He’s pretty.” Drusilla sighed and Spike’s heart almost broke at the sad look on her face. “Dark eyes and dark hair, just how you like them. I wish we could share.”
“We can!” She had to be talking about Xander, Spike thought. And maybe Xander would take some persuading, but Spike was confident that he would come around to the idea of a threesome pretty damn quickly.
“No, my love. They won’t let me.” Drusilla whined and turned away, her long skirt twirling and fluttering at her ankles. “Gone, gone, gone, Spike. Ashes to ashes, dust in your eyes.” She growled and turned again. Her arm swung back and she delivered a harsh slap that sent Spike flying over the dead parents and into the wall.
The wall vibrated under the force of Spike’s body and, when he stumbled away from it and gradually got his senses back, he wondered how he hadn’t gone straight through into the other room.
Angel was back, standing in the doorway and looking back and forth between Spike and Drusilla, a confused look painted on his face.
“Now go! You’ll be the death of me!” Drusilla yelled. Her eyes were wide and furious and as her fangs dropped she hissed between them to make her point. “Go, Spike!”
“No!” Spike yelled back. “I can’t leave you!” He held out his hand and approached Drusilla with more caution than usual. “I don’t know what you think you’ve seen or what you think I’ve done, but…”
Angel came forward, his fists clenching and his muscles readying for a fight as he watched Drusilla’s body tighten and coil to strike. “Spike, be careful.”
What do you care? Fucker. “Dru, luv. Come on, baby. Come with me. It’ll be just like it was. I know we’ve had our ups and downs. We weren’t perfect; I know that. But we can try. Okay, there is someone else. I admit that, and I was gonna share; swear it, luv. I met him in Sunnydale while I was looking for you. But it’s over now anyway. Not compatible, and all that rot.” Spike ignored the increasingly bemused look on Angel’s face. “It’s over, yeah? Come with me.”
Drusilla relaxed in a moment and sat down on the bed with a sulky bounce. “It will never be over. You and the Slayer’s boy and the payment is so harsh.”
“What’s this?” Angel asked, his brow more furrowed that it had ever been in his entire existence.
“Keep out of it!” Spike snapped.
Drusilla sing-songed and twirled her hair around one finger. “My Spikey has a boyfriend.” The finger went to her lips and she whispered again. “Bad bears. Shhhh. Don’t tell Goldilocks, Angel sweet; wouldn’t want to upset.”
“Who is this?” Angel demanded.
“No one. Keep your fat nose out of it,” Spike said.
“I want to know.”
“Yeah? And I want to win the lottery…”
“Spike!” Angel lunged forward, gripping Spike by the lapels of his leather coat and shoving him back into the wall. “You will tell me.”
Spike twisted in Angel’s grip. His leg came up and kicked out. “Fuck you.”
Angel recovered quickly and threw a punch that was directed at Spike’s face. At the last moment Spike ducked out of the way and Angel’s fist sunk into the wall. “What have you done, Spike?” Angel asked while he removed his hand from the flaking plaster.
Spike threw up his hands. “Why does everybody around here assume that I’ve done something?! I’ve done fuck all, mate.”
“You’ve done something with a friend of Buffy’s,” Angel pointed out. “And if you tell me it’s Alexander Harris I’m going to vomit.”
It took a moment for Spike to connect that name with Xander’s.
Spike’s face changed into his demon mask. His fangs extended and he roared and charged, forcing Angel out of the door and onto the landing. “You take that back! There’s nothing wrong with Xander!” He punctuated each word with a punch.
Spike finally pushed both palms out and struck Angel in the chest, knocking him over the banister and back down to the first floor. With a grin and a leap, Spike followed him down. He picked up a chair and smashed it against the wall.
Angel’s eyes widened at the remaining piece of wood in Spike’s hand. “Hey. Don’t do this, Spike. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
“You insulted Xander,” Spike pointed out.
“I didn’t.” Angel got to his feet and backed away. “I meant that the thought of you playing around with one of Buffy’s friends makes me feel really nervous and really sick. It’s not a good idea, Spike.”
Spike lowered his weapon. “Oh. Sorry, mate. My mistake. I’m feeling a bit fragile, you know?”
Angel nodded then lifted his chin at the stake. “You can get rid of that now.”
“Why?” Spike asked. “Perfectly good bit of… Oh, I see. You thought I was gonna dust you, didn’t you?”
Angel hesitated. “…No. No, no…”
Spike laughed and held up the stake. “You know I wouldn’t do that.”
“Right. Of course.”
Angel dusted himself down and started back up the stairs. He didn’t bother to turn at Spike’s muttered declaration of, “Might have stuck it up your…”
“She’s gone,” Angel interrupted. He rested one hand on the doorframe and glanced around the room they’d just a minute ago left. Spike arrived at his side and pushed past him.
“What the bloody hell…?” Spike scanned the room and looked at the open window. His heart sank and he toyed with the idea of using the stake on himself for being so stupid.
Spike walked over to the window and leaned on the sill. He didn’t speak for a long time and, while Angel made no sound behind him, Spike knew he was still there - waiting.
He could chase Dru through the streets and, hell, he might even catch her, but then what? Dru was a head-case, a nutter. But she was nearly always right. Spike couldn’t make sense of what she was saying anyway and perhaps that was because he didn’t want to.
Whatever her reasons were, only one thing really mattered right at that moment.
She didn’t want to be with him.
He wasn’t worth anything. Not to her. Or at least, not enough.
Spike sucked in a sharp breath and turned his head so he could see Angel out of the corner of his eye. “I’ll not be going back to Sunnydale.”
If Angel was relieved, he didn’t show it. “Where will you go?”
Spike turned back and gazed out over the coloured lights of the city. “Somewhere without all this neon shit. Fucking hate the city.” His voice was soft, defeated. Sad.
Angel nodded and looked down at the floor. When he looked back up, Spike was gone.
**
Xander sipped at his coke and stared out across the dance floor. It was Saturday and he’d agreed to meet Buffy and Willow here at the Bronze for a spot of pre-patrol fun.
He was early.
In fact, he’d arrived just as the club had opened. Since then he’d found a prime seat, bagged it, watched the club slowly fill up with other teenagers and nursed his one coke for an hour. He wasn’t made of money and he wanted to buy his girls a drink when they arrived. And besides, if he got up to go to the bar he’d lose the table. There were already two girls eyeing it up. Although why they were smiling and batting their eyelashes at it was way beyond Xander’s imagination.
Oh, they were smiling at him. Eeep. Xander pretended not to notice and looked instead at the band setting up on the stage.
All in all, Xander had had a pretty good day. He’d stayed up late Friday night and been allowed to sleep in. At around eleven he’d been roused by the smell of singed bacon. He’d followed his nose and come face to face with his mother, smiling away at the stove, and five minutes later he was presented with a steaming plate of bacon and eggs. It was a good job he liked his bacon extra crispy.
After the heartburn had dissipated, Xander had pulled a book from under his bed and spent the rest of the afternoon reading it. This was now the second book Giles had lent him from his personal stash.
And Xander hadn’t thought about Spike once.
Nope.
No way.
Not once.
Two hundred and three times, actually.
But it wasn’t all bad. At least now he knew that there could never be anything between them. At least now he knew that he’d been very stupid. He’d played with his life and he was damn lucky to still be on the side of the living.
That wouldn’t happen again.
Spike was different to most of the vampires that Xander had come across since Buffy’s arrival in Sunnydale. But that was because all the vampires he tended to watch Buffy dust or nearly get eaten by were fledges. They were brand-new-fresh-from-the-gave fledglings.
Spike had never been like that. He’d never been mindless and stupid.
Spike was stronger.
Spike was a Childe of Aurelius.
Childer were drastically stronger that fledges. They were far more than moronic bloodsucking demons. They had logic and cunning and a residual layer of the person they once were.
They had the man and the demon and they chose to be what they were. Uh, which was evil. Obviously.
In Xander’s mind, that put Spike way above any common fledge or the likes of Angel.
Spike could have killed him at any time, but he chose not to. He chose to be the man and not the demon.
A fledge would have killed him and Xander was fairly certain that Angel would kill him if it weren’t for the soul. The bloodlust was still there.
Angel wasn’t tame. He was on a leash.
Oh, yes. Xander was fast becoming an expert in all things vampire. He’d finished the second book and had even considered dropping in on Giles for another one. But then he’d realised it was the weekend. There were limits.
“Hi, Xander.”
Xander turned his head at the sound of Willow’s voice. “Hey, best friend.” It made him feel warm inside to see her smile. He’d been neglecting Willow lately and he knew it. “Ready to get jiggy with the…? Okay, I can’t pull that off, can I?”
Willow shook her head. “Nope. But that doesn’t mean you should stop trying.”
“Stop trying what?” Buffy asked, stepping out from behind Willow.
“Buffster!” Xander greeted. “You’re looking Buffylicious. What’s the what?”
“Yeah.” Willow’s eyes narrowed but her expression stayed playful. “You do look…all glowy and is that a new outfit?”
Embarrassed, Buffy fidgeted with her purse and perched herself on a chair. “This old thing?” she said. “Naah, I’ve had it…nearly a day now. Mom let me shop.”
There was suddenly a girly sort of sparkle in her eyes. When Xander saw it reflected in Willow’s he knew it was time for a hasty retreat. Shopping. Ack. “Drinks! Who wants drinks?!”
Willow jumped at the outburst and Buffy looked at him suspiciously. “Are you being weird again?” Buffy asked.
Xander shrugged and pulled some change and a few dollar bills from his pocket. “Of course! I would be being weird if I wasn’t being weird. You get me?”
Buffy laughed and rolled her eyes. “Weirdly, yes.”
Xander grinned. “Weirdo.” He turned away and counted his change on the way to the bar. He would take his time while the girls talked ‘shop’.
“Ooof!” Xander felt like a truck had hit him in the stomach. He looked up just in time to see Larry elbowing past him. “Hey! Pardon me!” Xander shouted after him. “Sorry if my stomach got in the way of your immediate need to be elsewhere!”
Larry stopped, turned and glared at Xander. “Get out of my face, Harris. I got bigger problems than a loser like you.”
It was one of those moments when Xander knew he should shut up. He knew that he should keep his mouth zipped and walk away.
But he didn’t. “I’m just saying a few manners wouldn’t hurt.”
Larry was still for a moment and there was a little spark of hope in Xander’s heart that perhaps Larry was going to walk away and Xander would have had the last word.
Larry snuffed it out.
With bared teeth and a cherry red face that looked as though it would burst at any moment, Larry charged towards Xander.
Xander considered running but he considered it for a little bit too long, and, before he knew it, Larry’s palms connected with Xander’s chest and shoved him back.
The force of the blow nearly knocked the wind from him but Xander stayed on his feet and stood his ground. Larry’s big hands came at him again and this time seized the fabric of his shirt and hauled him closer, nose to nose.
“You are a loser, Harris. Don’t ever get in my way again or I promise you’ll regret it.”
Inner Xander winced as outer Xander spoke. “I already regret it. Breath? Not so minty fresh.”
Larry didn’t bother with a clever retort. He simply grit his teeth and pulled back his fist.
Xander closed his eyes and expected to feel his nose collapsing into his face. He at least expected to see stars dancing behind his eyelids. Nope. Nothing.
Huh. Odd. He’d definitely heard the slap of flesh on flesh.
Cautiously, Xander opened one eye. What he saw made him open the other one immediately.
Standing with his hand wrapped tightly around Larry’s wrist was Angel.
TBC…
Teenage Dirtbag has been nominated at the Sunny D Awards. It's up for Best Characterisation for Xander, Best Pairing (Unconventional), Best Slash, and Best Unfinished. I would love it if you'd click the button below and vote for me. Thanks, guys!