As If We Should Forget We Have No Hands...part six. *s/x*
Hullo, hullo.
I know, most of your are probably watching the Oscars. I can't stand all the smarm, so i generally don't. Plus - why can't the speeches be like the ones back in the thirties and forties? When someone won, they came up to get their statue and they said 'this is such an honor, thank you so much'. And *that was it*. All. They were done.
Instead now there's this endless list of people they're sucking up to and possibly some disconnected babble and sometimes inappropriate political commentary and...
Bah, Humbug.
Anyway.
realtsunamigirl tagged me for this meme. Peek under here for the five most effective things to bribe me with!
1. Book certificate. Oh, yis. If i can go browse the shelves with money in my pocket? I'm yours.
2. Certificate to a place that sells rocks. Or just, you know, *rocks*. Ones you picked up on your last hike or ones you found at the beach or...whatever. I have rocks from folk in Russia, Scotland, all over the US... I like rocks.
3. Make me food. Food i don't have to shop for, prepare in any way, or clean up after. It's likely i'd help you if you did it at my house but if i didn't have to do *anything*, and i got a yummy meal? Yeah.
4. Be my friend and need my help. I'm pretty much a sucker for the people i consider *mine*. If i can do it, i *will*. And if i can't, i'll try to find someone who can.
5. There is no five. I want for very little. Ummm...oh, maybe if you offered to help me do some sort of computer thing that i was being annoyed by... But, really. You got four. Run with 'em!
I might have said i'd pimp something here...but damned if i can remember what or who or....Gah! Well, if i said it to you, remind me! Really. It's like damn Swiss Cheese up here.
As always, big hugs and smooches to reremouse and darkhavens for all their spiffy help! You guys are the cat's meow!
*has moment of utter terror that that apostrophe is wrong*
And DH, love - Many Happy Returns of the Day! I hope it was just lovely!
*smoooooooooch*
Anyway. Fic!
Previous bits here.
"So - pie and a pint," Xander said, staring at the plate in front of him. Browned pie with gravy coming over the edge - limp bit of lettuce with a hunk of tomato and some sliced cucumber off to one side. Spike had already taken and eaten the two rings of raw onion. Pile of chips shiny with grease and a topping-full glass of wine-dark beer.
"Best bloody pie and pint you'll find in London," Spike said, and ate his own onion.
"Yeah. It looks...ummm... Why is there vinegar on the table?"
"For the chips, mate - here -" Spike snatched up the cruet and made as if to pour vinegar over Xander's chips and Xander yelped and hunched over his plate.
"Back off, man! These are my - chips, and they will not be desecrated with vinegar!"
"Never know how much you'll like it 'til you try." Spike waggled the cruet enticingly and Xander almost growled.
"No way. Put it on your own. I need ketchup." Xander snatched the sticky bottle that was on the edge of the table and twisted the cap off - drenched his chips before Spike could get more than a shake or two of vinegar over them. "You fiend," Xander muttered.
"Ketchup's for the pie. You Yanks don't have a bloody clue." Spike liberally salted and vinegar-ed his own chips and then tucked in, grinning at Xander's look of disgust when he slathered ketchup on the pie.
"You're such a freak - you're all freaks," Xander said, but he took a bite of pie and chewed thoughtfully. "Hrmmm."
"S'good, yeah?"
"It's...different. Is this just - meat? There's no vegetables."
"It's not stew. It's steak and kidney pie. You want veggies we'll get vindaloo again."
"I'm not sure my esophagus is up for that so soon." Xander ate another bite - ate a chip and then took a long swallow of his beer. He wiped his lip off and fiddled with his fork.
*Here it comes.* Spike drained half of his own pint in anticipation.
"Just so we're clear... Angel used to be a vampire. He got this - thing. Made him human."
"Shanshu. Some kind of half-cocked reward from the Powers That Be bloody annoying."
"Right. Reward for being an evil vampire for two hundred years."
"For being a right poncey git with his head up his -"
"Right, right. Anyway. Human. In LA. Doing - Council-type, save the world type...stuff."
"Right." Spike forked up more pie - stabbed some chips and then sawed at his tomato with the edge of his fork. It squished wetly over the lettuce.
"Doing the - stuff with Wesley-the-sometimes-dead guy, Gunn who used to be a gangster or something but is a lawyer now and - a god?"
"Reckon she's more of a demi-god now," Spike said, and drained his pint. "Want another?"
"Huh? Oh - uh, in a minute." Xander took another sip of his beer and Spike rolled his eyes. "And the Slayer that I know and her sister moved there to, like...help out."
"Help out, shag, whatever," Spike said, waving his hand.
"Not the sister -!"
"God no! If Angel touched Dawn I'd have his guts. So would Buffy. 'Sides, the niblet's got more taste than that."
"Yeah, she had a crush on you." Xander grinned and Spike picked up his glass - stood up and tucked his thumb into the pocket of his jeans - canted his pelvis out just a little.
"Don't blame the girl, do you, Harris?" Xander blushed. Spike smirked and sauntered to the bar.
"Not for one fucking minute." Xander probably thought Spike wouldn't hear that. It made Spike put a little extra slink in his step and the blowsy redhead behind the bar lit up, leaning forward to show off tired cleavage.
"What'll it be, sexy?"
"Two of the Skullcrusher, ducks." Spike leaned on the bar - risked a tiny glance back. Xander was eating chips and surreptitiously watching Spike and Spike...had a moment of doubt. *He might be getting' an eyeful but it means sod all. He's not...him. It'll only end badly. Worse than badly. Apocalyptic, like.* Spike pushed a note across the bar - realized it was something big when the redhead's grin went positively incandescent at his 'keep the change'. Fuck it - was only money. He grabbed the glasses and pushed back to their table and told himself to behave. Looked down at Xander who was looking up through his eyelashes, this funny little half smile on his face and his paper napkin crumpled in his fingers.
"Miss me then, pet?" *Bloody. Fucking. Hell.*
"Did you know Buffy was pregnant?" Xander asked, poking through a selection of gum.
"Not really too keen on the breeding habits, mate. Figured she and Angel were getting all - intimate, now his soul's stuck tight. Presumably."
"His soul - oh! Yeah. You told me. Man, is everybody I know just - weird?"
"M'not weird."
"Dude, you're a vampire who eats food and works for the good guys. You're weird, all right." Xander tossed his gum in the air with a triumphant smirk and Spike snatched it - stomped up to the counter to pay. Xander followed, pointing. "See? You pay for stuff! You should be - ripping and tearing and drinking! Creature of the night stuff!"
"I do that sometimes," Spike said, knowing he sounded sullen - no, pouty - but unable to stop himself. "Do that a lot, me. When I'm not..."
"When you're not being good? 'Cause you're a gooood vampire." Xander was grinning - he was all but laughing, eye sparkling and his cheeks flushed from the chilly walk and Spike felt that sweet, sensuous flush of arousal go all through him.
*Gonna wipe that smirk right off your face...* Spike dropped a crumpled note on top of the gum and cigarettes and little tin of pastilles and took two long steps that brought him to within inches of Xander. He insinuated one leg between Xander's and put his hand flat on Xander's chest, feeling the rapid, rhythmic thump-bump of Xander's heart under his palm. "I am good, pet," he murmured, little cat-grin and half-lidded eyes and bump of his hip. "But I'm even better when I'm bad." The slow, scalding flush of blood that hit Xander's skin was fragrant with pheromones - sweet with clean sweat and soap and rich with hops. Enticing and intoxicating and so fucking close...
The man behind the counter cleared his throat and Spike let his hand slip down Xander's chest as he stepped back, getting enough distance between them so that by the time his fingers were at waist-level they were also a couple of inches away. Spike grabbed change and sundries and sauntered out of the shop - stopped outside to light up and wait for Xander. It took him a minute to catch up.
When he finally joined Spike on the pavement Xander was pleasantly flushed and wide-eyed and Spike just ambled away down the block, letting Xander sort himself. Two blocks later Xander wordlessly held out his hand for the gum and unwrapped a piece - shoved it into his mouth and offered the pack to Spike who recoiled slightly.
"None for me, mate. Sticks in my fangs."
Xander snorted softly and shoved the gum away. "Yeah, doesn't really go with the big bad vampire image." They walked another block and Spike glanced over at Xander a few times. He had his hands in his pockets, his head down. He didn't look unhappy, just...thoughtful.
"I'm glad Buffy's not going to try and - do anything. Even if she's only a month pregnant."
"Can’t imagine Angel lettin' her out of his sight, really," Spike said.
"It's just - if something happened... That would really suck."
"Slayers are bloody tough. But yeah," Spike said, when Xander looked up, frowning a little. "It's for the best, I'm sure. Only ever knew one other Slayer with a kid before, 'though I suppose a couple hundred years ago it was more common."
"How'd you know this other Slayer?" Xander asked, voice only curious - the faint scent of cherry gum.
"Killed her," Spike said shortly, and Xander's mouth opened and then closed and he ducked his head again.
"You were... It's really hard to...I mean, I know you -"
"Yeah, you, Amnesia-boy, know me - souled up William the Bloody."
"Okay, maybe I don't know you. Or...but, I do. Some of you. You don't seem....you're not -" Xander floundered for a moment and Spike smoked, a curious mixture of anger and resentment roiling in him. He didn't want to be the bloody good guy. He didn't want to be...dismissed. And he didn't want to scare Xander off. "I can't imagine you just - hurting random people," Xander finally finished, and Spike sighed.
"Bet you imagined it pretty good when you saw me take that bloke out the other night, yeah?" Spike stopped walking and turned to face the man, smoke hot and sharp on his tongue. "That was me, Xander, just like this is. I might be playin' on the side that's mostly keeping the world safe for puppies and grannies but I'm still a demon and it's best if you bloody well don't forget that." Spike turned and walked on, and Xander did too. "Never did before," Spike added, unnecessary and pointless bit of truth that made Xander take in a sharp, startled breath.
"What's that mean?"
"Nothing," Spike muttered, and Xander's hand reached out and grabbed his arm - pulled him around as Xander came to a dead stop.
"No, I don't think it's nothing. What's it mean?"
"Bloody hell. It means, Harris, that we hated each other on sight back in Sunnydale and it didn't improve much over the years and even if we've saved the bloody girl and the gold watch together, we weren't ever friends, all right?" Spike twitched away and stomped on down the street, heading for the lit sign of a tube station. Listening to Xander's heart beat and his lungs push and pull for short, shocky breaths. Then Xander's booted feet moved - gritted on the concrete and stomped after him and Spike slowed infinitesimally.
"Okay, so - we hated each other. So what? We can't hate each other that much or you wouldn't be hanging out with me. You could have just - shoved me into my place and left me there."
"Yeah, well..." Spike shrugged, taking the last drag on his smoke and tossing the butt into the gutter. "C'mon, got a train to catch."
"Where are we going?" Xander sounded happy - again. He sounded vindicated, like Spike's lack of argument meant he was right.
*Not fucking right. Still not friends. Doesn't mean a bloody thing.* "Got a place at Highgate cemetery - got a couple bits and bobs that might - help. Protection and such. You're like a bloody walking target." *Nope. Doesn't mean a fucking thing.*
Highgate was closed, of course, it being nearly ten, but Spike knew a way in a human could handle and they strolled in silence through the avenues of headstones and tombs and sepulchers. Faint light from the street and a gibbous moon sailing silently in and out of gaps in the clouds. Xander stumbled once or twice on uneven ground.
"It's really, really...creepy to think that I spent my after-school hours wandering around cemeteries in California. Really creepy," Xander added as they walked past a finely sculpted weeping angel who seemed to glow in the intermittent, silvery light.
"Best place for vamps, and there was always some demon or evil cult or band of - possessed monks or some such hunting for relics or talismans. When I lived in my crypt -"
"You lived in a cemetery? Oh, wow, that's just -" Xander stumbled over a hidden rock and yelped, flailing. Spike caught him around the elbow and steered him to smoother ground.
"It was a bloody nice set-up. Place upstairs for my 'fridge and telly, nice space tucked away underneath for my bed, access to the underground. Was perfect until Captain sodding Cardboard blew it up."
"Blew it....up. Okay. Guess tonight's gonna be story time again, 'cause you've got to tell me - what the fuck is that?" Xander flinched from a sudden rustling in the overgrown ivy that had taken over a tomb. There was a short, shrill scream.
"S'a fox. There's a bunch of them live here. Sounds like a hare in a trap, doesn't it?"
"Sounds like a woman," Xander said, his voice suddenly low and flat.
Spike opened his mouth to say something but nothing sensible would come out, so he caught Xander's arm instead, pointing. "Look - nearly there."
Xander lifted his head, squinting a little, and then shot a wide-eyed look at Spike. "We're going in there?"
"Fifth one down on the left," Spike said cheerfully, and walked on. Xander scurried to catch up. On either side were tall, narrow doorways that led into catacombs. Each lintel was carved with a name or crest, most obscured by time and pollution and nature. It was like walking down a row of derelict, crooked houses and Spike smirked to himself. Creepy wasn't the half of it.
"Fuck, this is...ummm... Going in? We're going in?"
"Got it in one," Spike said, and stepped across the threshold.
"Uh - Spike, I don't -" A fox ululated in the distance and Spike heard the sudden, almost panicked shuffle of Xander's boots.
"Stop! Stop there - you'll take a tumble. Hang on -" Spike dug out his Zippo and lit the candle he kept stuck back behind a bit of crumbled stone. He held it aloft and Xander blinked in the glow - looked around himself nervously.
"Okay. Okay. No bodies, that's good. No - bones. Umm - dirt. I see dirt and - stone and - you, thank god."
"No fears, mate. Nothing here but the worms."
"Actually not helping," Xander muttered, and walked gingerly over to Spike. "So - uh - this is pretty low-maintenance. Those - boxes in the walls and that - uh - big box there where there's probably a really old dead guy and his pet worms."
"Actually, really old dead guy moved out a while back. Just the worms now." Spike grinned at Xander's disgusted look and heaved aside the stone slab that sealed the tomb. "You hold this now," he said, giving the candle to Xander. "I've got to get a few things from the basement."
"Basement? Oh, god. I really do not want to go there. Just - hurry up." The foxes were yipping and snarling in a rising, eerie chorus and Spike swung his leg up and over the edge of the tomb - gave Xander a little salute and swung up the other leg - dropped straight down. He chuckled softly to himself at Xander's gasp of surprise.
"Spike! You okay?"
"Course I am! Five minutes. You just stand watch."
"Against what?" Xander called and Spike laughed. Against nothing, actually - everything that might come through Highgate knew Spike had staked a claim and that he didn't tolerate mischief. It was a quiet cemetery. Spike lit another candle and moved quickly, opening one of three trunks and fishing out a silver medallion, a piece of polished malachite and a brace of intricately etched daggers. He also perused a shelf that was lined with jars and selected one. He could hear Xander's heart pounding - could hear him muttering to himself, 'damn vampires' and 'I must be crazy' and 'fucking foxes'.
Tucking everything away into his coat, Spike blew out the candle and put it on its bit of broken plate - went to stand directly under the golden square of the open tomb. "Xander? I'm coming up!"
"Thank god - okay!" Xander's boots scuffled on the dirt and Spike leaped straight up - touched one toe on the edge of the tomb and landed lightly in front of Xander, his coat rising and then falling around him like rustling, leathern wings. "Way to fucking impress, Batvamp."
"Don't call me Batvamp." Spike scowled at Xander, who grinned. "Have to stop on the way back and pick up a thing or two - I'll be buggered if I have to keep doing laundry every other day."
"Ooh, would that be shopping?" Xander waggled his eyebrows and Spike snorted - took the candle out of his hand and snuffed it out.
"Yes, shopping. And if you're real nice, I'll buy you a lolly."
"Pervert."
Back at Xander's flat Spike found a little paint brush in the junk drawer and opened the jar he'd brought back from the crypt. The liquid inside smelled of earth and yew and juniper. There was a large, empty space in the middle of Xander's living room floor and Spike dipped the brush into the jar and began to carefully paint on the glossy wood.
"What're you doing, Spike?" Xander asked softly.
"Something to make this place a little safer. Let me concentrate, now." Spike walked backwards, around and across, drawing a complicated veve. The symbol of a god. He'd never cared for magic - twisty, untrustworthy stuff that slipped and slid and made his head hurt. But he'd learned this particular spell from a mambo in New Orleans. A large and smiling woman who, despite her rich, bitter-dark skin and thread-wrapped dreadlocks had reminded him powerfully of Dru. Spike understood vodoun in a way he didn't understand most other magic. You gave so you could get - a price and a product.
When the veve was done he poured a measure of whisky into a glass and set it on the open sill of the kitchen window - put a half-dozen cigarettes beside it and the piece of malachite. "Papa Legba, open the door," he murmured, and somewhere behind him Xander stirred.
"Are you inviting something in?" His voice sounded a little...shaky.
"Asking for a door to be opened," Spike said. He poured some salt into his hand from the shaker on the back of the stove and turned back to the living room. Back to Xander, who was sitting on the couch, his hands locked between his knees and his expression a little wary. The veve gleamed faintly, fading as it dried to a translucent shimmer. Spike stood at the head of it and closed his eyes for a moment. This was the part he hated. The part where the god - came in.
"Danballah-wedo," he said softly, "protect this place, and those that dwell within." A sudden, hard gust of wind skirled through the kitchen window, bringing in the scent of wet earth and ozone - the scent of burning. The wind danced around Spike, lifting the hem of his coat up and rushing up the sleeves - tugging at him. Xander made a small noise - fear or excitement, Spike couldn't tell. "Gros bon ange, protect this man. Ti bon ange, keep watch." The wind chuckled and Spike shuddered - felt the laughter bubbling in his chest and shook his head. He flung the salt over the veve and it gleamed there like scattered diamonds. Quickly, he crouched down and changed - dug the razor point of a fang into the ball of his thumb and flicked his bleeding hand over the symbol, scattering blood. Mouth to the wound, he opened his Zippo and lit it - held the flame to the edge of the veve. The entire thing went up with a whump and then seconds later fire and smoke were both gone and Xander sat blinking, looking dazedly at Spike, who rubbed a singed knuckle on his thigh.
"That should do it. Keep most anything out, that will." Spike stood slowly - found the brush and tossed it into the bin and screwed the lid of the jar down tight. He deliberately didn't look at the now-empty windowsill over the sink. He crossed back into the living room, feeling in a coat pocket. "Here - this is for you." Spike held out the medallion which had the same veve embossed on one side and a complicated sort of maze/web thing on the back. "See, that's for trapping bad magic, if it gets to you. This should keep it away, though. Should keep that demon off you if it comes around.
"Is it going to - come around?" Xander asked, dropping the chain over his head and shivering. He picked the medallion up and studied it, and Spike could see the gooseflesh on his arms.
"Dunno. The witches might have got it stirred up. It knows we know, now, and... Well, it might run, or it might attack. Never can tell."
"Oh. Fuck, this thing is cold." Xander settled the medallion on the outside of his shirt and started to slowly work his boots off. "If it comes here... Will it come for me? Or for - anybody that's around?"
"Rupert said it needs power to keep the form it's made. Or borrowed, I guess." Spike shed his coat to a kitchen chair - pulled off his own boots and got a beer from the cabinet. "Want one?" he asked, raising the bottle, and Xander nodded slowly.
"So it'll probably go for...Giles or - or you? It got everything it could from me," Xander added, slumping down and propping his bare feet on the coffee table and Spike came over and flopped down next to him - handed Xander his beer and opened his own.
"Could do, mate. Won't get to us without a fight, though. Should see our Ripper with a sword."
Xander snorted softly. "Ripper? What, is that his secret Watcher name?" He opened his beer and took a long drink - rubbed absently at his chest, his fingers not quite touching the medallion.
"Oh, no. That's the name he went by back in his glory days. Have to ask him, some time. It's worth it to see him go all red and fumble for his handkerchief."
Xander laughed softly but then he sobered, picking at the label on his bottle. "Did I... Was I actually any good? I mean - at fighting and stuff? You said -"
"Oh, I know." Spike drank deeply - leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, thinking. "Mostly just takin' the piss, mate. You didn't have any real training - and why Giles never showed you lot how to fight better is beyond me - but you managed." Spike rummaged in his mental memory file, digging until he found something Dawn had told him about on one of his sitting nights. "Had a run-in with a chaos mage one year at Halloween - you all got turned into your costumes and you were dressed up like G.I. Joe or some such. Said you remembered being the soldier for a long time."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, sure. You stole this rocket-launcher from the Army base there and gave it to the Slayer so she could take out a baddie."
"Huh." Xander didn't say anything else but Spike could just see the slow smile curling up the corners of his mouth and he smiled himself - drank another mouthful of beer and stretched out, feet bumping Xander's a little on the table.
"So... You up for some chicken and something violent?"
"Always up for one of those," Spike said, and Xander elbowed him as he got up and went into the kitchen, small smile stretched to a wide grin.
For a visual of Spike's place, go here.
I know, most of your are probably watching the Oscars. I can't stand all the smarm, so i generally don't. Plus - why can't the speeches be like the ones back in the thirties and forties? When someone won, they came up to get their statue and they said 'this is such an honor, thank you so much'. And *that was it*. All. They were done.
Instead now there's this endless list of people they're sucking up to and possibly some disconnected babble and sometimes inappropriate political commentary and...
Bah, Humbug.
Anyway.
realtsunamigirl tagged me for this meme. Peek under here for the five most effective things to bribe me with!
1. Book certificate. Oh, yis. If i can go browse the shelves with money in my pocket? I'm yours.
2. Certificate to a place that sells rocks. Or just, you know, *rocks*. Ones you picked up on your last hike or ones you found at the beach or...whatever. I have rocks from folk in Russia, Scotland, all over the US... I like rocks.
3. Make me food. Food i don't have to shop for, prepare in any way, or clean up after. It's likely i'd help you if you did it at my house but if i didn't have to do *anything*, and i got a yummy meal? Yeah.
4. Be my friend and need my help. I'm pretty much a sucker for the people i consider *mine*. If i can do it, i *will*. And if i can't, i'll try to find someone who can.
5. There is no five. I want for very little. Ummm...oh, maybe if you offered to help me do some sort of computer thing that i was being annoyed by... But, really. You got four. Run with 'em!
I might have said i'd pimp something here...but damned if i can remember what or who or....Gah! Well, if i said it to you, remind me! Really. It's like damn Swiss Cheese up here.
As always, big hugs and smooches to reremouse and darkhavens for all their spiffy help! You guys are the cat's meow!
*has moment of utter terror that that apostrophe is wrong*
And DH, love - Many Happy Returns of the Day! I hope it was just lovely!
*smoooooooooch*
Anyway. Fic!
Previous bits here.
"So - pie and a pint," Xander said, staring at the plate in front of him. Browned pie with gravy coming over the edge - limp bit of lettuce with a hunk of tomato and some sliced cucumber off to one side. Spike had already taken and eaten the two rings of raw onion. Pile of chips shiny with grease and a topping-full glass of wine-dark beer.
"Best bloody pie and pint you'll find in London," Spike said, and ate his own onion.
"Yeah. It looks...ummm... Why is there vinegar on the table?"
"For the chips, mate - here -" Spike snatched up the cruet and made as if to pour vinegar over Xander's chips and Xander yelped and hunched over his plate.
"Back off, man! These are my - chips, and they will not be desecrated with vinegar!"
"Never know how much you'll like it 'til you try." Spike waggled the cruet enticingly and Xander almost growled.
"No way. Put it on your own. I need ketchup." Xander snatched the sticky bottle that was on the edge of the table and twisted the cap off - drenched his chips before Spike could get more than a shake or two of vinegar over them. "You fiend," Xander muttered.
"Ketchup's for the pie. You Yanks don't have a bloody clue." Spike liberally salted and vinegar-ed his own chips and then tucked in, grinning at Xander's look of disgust when he slathered ketchup on the pie.
"You're such a freak - you're all freaks," Xander said, but he took a bite of pie and chewed thoughtfully. "Hrmmm."
"S'good, yeah?"
"It's...different. Is this just - meat? There's no vegetables."
"It's not stew. It's steak and kidney pie. You want veggies we'll get vindaloo again."
"I'm not sure my esophagus is up for that so soon." Xander ate another bite - ate a chip and then took a long swallow of his beer. He wiped his lip off and fiddled with his fork.
*Here it comes.* Spike drained half of his own pint in anticipation.
"Just so we're clear... Angel used to be a vampire. He got this - thing. Made him human."
"Shanshu. Some kind of half-cocked reward from the Powers That Be bloody annoying."
"Right. Reward for being an evil vampire for two hundred years."
"For being a right poncey git with his head up his -"
"Right, right. Anyway. Human. In LA. Doing - Council-type, save the world type...stuff."
"Right." Spike forked up more pie - stabbed some chips and then sawed at his tomato with the edge of his fork. It squished wetly over the lettuce.
"Doing the - stuff with Wesley-the-sometimes-dead guy, Gunn who used to be a gangster or something but is a lawyer now and - a god?"
"Reckon she's more of a demi-god now," Spike said, and drained his pint. "Want another?"
"Huh? Oh - uh, in a minute." Xander took another sip of his beer and Spike rolled his eyes. "And the Slayer that I know and her sister moved there to, like...help out."
"Help out, shag, whatever," Spike said, waving his hand.
"Not the sister -!"
"God no! If Angel touched Dawn I'd have his guts. So would Buffy. 'Sides, the niblet's got more taste than that."
"Yeah, she had a crush on you." Xander grinned and Spike picked up his glass - stood up and tucked his thumb into the pocket of his jeans - canted his pelvis out just a little.
"Don't blame the girl, do you, Harris?" Xander blushed. Spike smirked and sauntered to the bar.
"Not for one fucking minute." Xander probably thought Spike wouldn't hear that. It made Spike put a little extra slink in his step and the blowsy redhead behind the bar lit up, leaning forward to show off tired cleavage.
"What'll it be, sexy?"
"Two of the Skullcrusher, ducks." Spike leaned on the bar - risked a tiny glance back. Xander was eating chips and surreptitiously watching Spike and Spike...had a moment of doubt. *He might be getting' an eyeful but it means sod all. He's not...him. It'll only end badly. Worse than badly. Apocalyptic, like.* Spike pushed a note across the bar - realized it was something big when the redhead's grin went positively incandescent at his 'keep the change'. Fuck it - was only money. He grabbed the glasses and pushed back to their table and told himself to behave. Looked down at Xander who was looking up through his eyelashes, this funny little half smile on his face and his paper napkin crumpled in his fingers.
"Miss me then, pet?" *Bloody. Fucking. Hell.*
"Did you know Buffy was pregnant?" Xander asked, poking through a selection of gum.
"Not really too keen on the breeding habits, mate. Figured she and Angel were getting all - intimate, now his soul's stuck tight. Presumably."
"His soul - oh! Yeah. You told me. Man, is everybody I know just - weird?"
"M'not weird."
"Dude, you're a vampire who eats food and works for the good guys. You're weird, all right." Xander tossed his gum in the air with a triumphant smirk and Spike snatched it - stomped up to the counter to pay. Xander followed, pointing. "See? You pay for stuff! You should be - ripping and tearing and drinking! Creature of the night stuff!"
"I do that sometimes," Spike said, knowing he sounded sullen - no, pouty - but unable to stop himself. "Do that a lot, me. When I'm not..."
"When you're not being good? 'Cause you're a gooood vampire." Xander was grinning - he was all but laughing, eye sparkling and his cheeks flushed from the chilly walk and Spike felt that sweet, sensuous flush of arousal go all through him.
*Gonna wipe that smirk right off your face...* Spike dropped a crumpled note on top of the gum and cigarettes and little tin of pastilles and took two long steps that brought him to within inches of Xander. He insinuated one leg between Xander's and put his hand flat on Xander's chest, feeling the rapid, rhythmic thump-bump of Xander's heart under his palm. "I am good, pet," he murmured, little cat-grin and half-lidded eyes and bump of his hip. "But I'm even better when I'm bad." The slow, scalding flush of blood that hit Xander's skin was fragrant with pheromones - sweet with clean sweat and soap and rich with hops. Enticing and intoxicating and so fucking close...
The man behind the counter cleared his throat and Spike let his hand slip down Xander's chest as he stepped back, getting enough distance between them so that by the time his fingers were at waist-level they were also a couple of inches away. Spike grabbed change and sundries and sauntered out of the shop - stopped outside to light up and wait for Xander. It took him a minute to catch up.
When he finally joined Spike on the pavement Xander was pleasantly flushed and wide-eyed and Spike just ambled away down the block, letting Xander sort himself. Two blocks later Xander wordlessly held out his hand for the gum and unwrapped a piece - shoved it into his mouth and offered the pack to Spike who recoiled slightly.
"None for me, mate. Sticks in my fangs."
Xander snorted softly and shoved the gum away. "Yeah, doesn't really go with the big bad vampire image." They walked another block and Spike glanced over at Xander a few times. He had his hands in his pockets, his head down. He didn't look unhappy, just...thoughtful.
"I'm glad Buffy's not going to try and - do anything. Even if she's only a month pregnant."
"Can’t imagine Angel lettin' her out of his sight, really," Spike said.
"It's just - if something happened... That would really suck."
"Slayers are bloody tough. But yeah," Spike said, when Xander looked up, frowning a little. "It's for the best, I'm sure. Only ever knew one other Slayer with a kid before, 'though I suppose a couple hundred years ago it was more common."
"How'd you know this other Slayer?" Xander asked, voice only curious - the faint scent of cherry gum.
"Killed her," Spike said shortly, and Xander's mouth opened and then closed and he ducked his head again.
"You were... It's really hard to...I mean, I know you -"
"Yeah, you, Amnesia-boy, know me - souled up William the Bloody."
"Okay, maybe I don't know you. Or...but, I do. Some of you. You don't seem....you're not -" Xander floundered for a moment and Spike smoked, a curious mixture of anger and resentment roiling in him. He didn't want to be the bloody good guy. He didn't want to be...dismissed. And he didn't want to scare Xander off. "I can't imagine you just - hurting random people," Xander finally finished, and Spike sighed.
"Bet you imagined it pretty good when you saw me take that bloke out the other night, yeah?" Spike stopped walking and turned to face the man, smoke hot and sharp on his tongue. "That was me, Xander, just like this is. I might be playin' on the side that's mostly keeping the world safe for puppies and grannies but I'm still a demon and it's best if you bloody well don't forget that." Spike turned and walked on, and Xander did too. "Never did before," Spike added, unnecessary and pointless bit of truth that made Xander take in a sharp, startled breath.
"What's that mean?"
"Nothing," Spike muttered, and Xander's hand reached out and grabbed his arm - pulled him around as Xander came to a dead stop.
"No, I don't think it's nothing. What's it mean?"
"Bloody hell. It means, Harris, that we hated each other on sight back in Sunnydale and it didn't improve much over the years and even if we've saved the bloody girl and the gold watch together, we weren't ever friends, all right?" Spike twitched away and stomped on down the street, heading for the lit sign of a tube station. Listening to Xander's heart beat and his lungs push and pull for short, shocky breaths. Then Xander's booted feet moved - gritted on the concrete and stomped after him and Spike slowed infinitesimally.
"Okay, so - we hated each other. So what? We can't hate each other that much or you wouldn't be hanging out with me. You could have just - shoved me into my place and left me there."
"Yeah, well..." Spike shrugged, taking the last drag on his smoke and tossing the butt into the gutter. "C'mon, got a train to catch."
"Where are we going?" Xander sounded happy - again. He sounded vindicated, like Spike's lack of argument meant he was right.
*Not fucking right. Still not friends. Doesn't mean a bloody thing.* "Got a place at Highgate cemetery - got a couple bits and bobs that might - help. Protection and such. You're like a bloody walking target." *Nope. Doesn't mean a fucking thing.*
Highgate was closed, of course, it being nearly ten, but Spike knew a way in a human could handle and they strolled in silence through the avenues of headstones and tombs and sepulchers. Faint light from the street and a gibbous moon sailing silently in and out of gaps in the clouds. Xander stumbled once or twice on uneven ground.
"It's really, really...creepy to think that I spent my after-school hours wandering around cemeteries in California. Really creepy," Xander added as they walked past a finely sculpted weeping angel who seemed to glow in the intermittent, silvery light.
"Best place for vamps, and there was always some demon or evil cult or band of - possessed monks or some such hunting for relics or talismans. When I lived in my crypt -"
"You lived in a cemetery? Oh, wow, that's just -" Xander stumbled over a hidden rock and yelped, flailing. Spike caught him around the elbow and steered him to smoother ground.
"It was a bloody nice set-up. Place upstairs for my 'fridge and telly, nice space tucked away underneath for my bed, access to the underground. Was perfect until Captain sodding Cardboard blew it up."
"Blew it....up. Okay. Guess tonight's gonna be story time again, 'cause you've got to tell me - what the fuck is that?" Xander flinched from a sudden rustling in the overgrown ivy that had taken over a tomb. There was a short, shrill scream.
"S'a fox. There's a bunch of them live here. Sounds like a hare in a trap, doesn't it?"
"Sounds like a woman," Xander said, his voice suddenly low and flat.
Spike opened his mouth to say something but nothing sensible would come out, so he caught Xander's arm instead, pointing. "Look - nearly there."
Xander lifted his head, squinting a little, and then shot a wide-eyed look at Spike. "We're going in there?"
"Fifth one down on the left," Spike said cheerfully, and walked on. Xander scurried to catch up. On either side were tall, narrow doorways that led into catacombs. Each lintel was carved with a name or crest, most obscured by time and pollution and nature. It was like walking down a row of derelict, crooked houses and Spike smirked to himself. Creepy wasn't the half of it.
"Fuck, this is...ummm... Going in? We're going in?"
"Got it in one," Spike said, and stepped across the threshold.
"Uh - Spike, I don't -" A fox ululated in the distance and Spike heard the sudden, almost panicked shuffle of Xander's boots.
"Stop! Stop there - you'll take a tumble. Hang on -" Spike dug out his Zippo and lit the candle he kept stuck back behind a bit of crumbled stone. He held it aloft and Xander blinked in the glow - looked around himself nervously.
"Okay. Okay. No bodies, that's good. No - bones. Umm - dirt. I see dirt and - stone and - you, thank god."
"No fears, mate. Nothing here but the worms."
"Actually not helping," Xander muttered, and walked gingerly over to Spike. "So - uh - this is pretty low-maintenance. Those - boxes in the walls and that - uh - big box there where there's probably a really old dead guy and his pet worms."
"Actually, really old dead guy moved out a while back. Just the worms now." Spike grinned at Xander's disgusted look and heaved aside the stone slab that sealed the tomb. "You hold this now," he said, giving the candle to Xander. "I've got to get a few things from the basement."
"Basement? Oh, god. I really do not want to go there. Just - hurry up." The foxes were yipping and snarling in a rising, eerie chorus and Spike swung his leg up and over the edge of the tomb - gave Xander a little salute and swung up the other leg - dropped straight down. He chuckled softly to himself at Xander's gasp of surprise.
"Spike! You okay?"
"Course I am! Five minutes. You just stand watch."
"Against what?" Xander called and Spike laughed. Against nothing, actually - everything that might come through Highgate knew Spike had staked a claim and that he didn't tolerate mischief. It was a quiet cemetery. Spike lit another candle and moved quickly, opening one of three trunks and fishing out a silver medallion, a piece of polished malachite and a brace of intricately etched daggers. He also perused a shelf that was lined with jars and selected one. He could hear Xander's heart pounding - could hear him muttering to himself, 'damn vampires' and 'I must be crazy' and 'fucking foxes'.
Tucking everything away into his coat, Spike blew out the candle and put it on its bit of broken plate - went to stand directly under the golden square of the open tomb. "Xander? I'm coming up!"
"Thank god - okay!" Xander's boots scuffled on the dirt and Spike leaped straight up - touched one toe on the edge of the tomb and landed lightly in front of Xander, his coat rising and then falling around him like rustling, leathern wings. "Way to fucking impress, Batvamp."
"Don't call me Batvamp." Spike scowled at Xander, who grinned. "Have to stop on the way back and pick up a thing or two - I'll be buggered if I have to keep doing laundry every other day."
"Ooh, would that be shopping?" Xander waggled his eyebrows and Spike snorted - took the candle out of his hand and snuffed it out.
"Yes, shopping. And if you're real nice, I'll buy you a lolly."
"Pervert."
Back at Xander's flat Spike found a little paint brush in the junk drawer and opened the jar he'd brought back from the crypt. The liquid inside smelled of earth and yew and juniper. There was a large, empty space in the middle of Xander's living room floor and Spike dipped the brush into the jar and began to carefully paint on the glossy wood.
"What're you doing, Spike?" Xander asked softly.
"Something to make this place a little safer. Let me concentrate, now." Spike walked backwards, around and across, drawing a complicated veve. The symbol of a god. He'd never cared for magic - twisty, untrustworthy stuff that slipped and slid and made his head hurt. But he'd learned this particular spell from a mambo in New Orleans. A large and smiling woman who, despite her rich, bitter-dark skin and thread-wrapped dreadlocks had reminded him powerfully of Dru. Spike understood vodoun in a way he didn't understand most other magic. You gave so you could get - a price and a product.
When the veve was done he poured a measure of whisky into a glass and set it on the open sill of the kitchen window - put a half-dozen cigarettes beside it and the piece of malachite. "Papa Legba, open the door," he murmured, and somewhere behind him Xander stirred.
"Are you inviting something in?" His voice sounded a little...shaky.
"Asking for a door to be opened," Spike said. He poured some salt into his hand from the shaker on the back of the stove and turned back to the living room. Back to Xander, who was sitting on the couch, his hands locked between his knees and his expression a little wary. The veve gleamed faintly, fading as it dried to a translucent shimmer. Spike stood at the head of it and closed his eyes for a moment. This was the part he hated. The part where the god - came in.
"Danballah-wedo," he said softly, "protect this place, and those that dwell within." A sudden, hard gust of wind skirled through the kitchen window, bringing in the scent of wet earth and ozone - the scent of burning. The wind danced around Spike, lifting the hem of his coat up and rushing up the sleeves - tugging at him. Xander made a small noise - fear or excitement, Spike couldn't tell. "Gros bon ange, protect this man. Ti bon ange, keep watch." The wind chuckled and Spike shuddered - felt the laughter bubbling in his chest and shook his head. He flung the salt over the veve and it gleamed there like scattered diamonds. Quickly, he crouched down and changed - dug the razor point of a fang into the ball of his thumb and flicked his bleeding hand over the symbol, scattering blood. Mouth to the wound, he opened his Zippo and lit it - held the flame to the edge of the veve. The entire thing went up with a whump and then seconds later fire and smoke were both gone and Xander sat blinking, looking dazedly at Spike, who rubbed a singed knuckle on his thigh.
"That should do it. Keep most anything out, that will." Spike stood slowly - found the brush and tossed it into the bin and screwed the lid of the jar down tight. He deliberately didn't look at the now-empty windowsill over the sink. He crossed back into the living room, feeling in a coat pocket. "Here - this is for you." Spike held out the medallion which had the same veve embossed on one side and a complicated sort of maze/web thing on the back. "See, that's for trapping bad magic, if it gets to you. This should keep it away, though. Should keep that demon off you if it comes around.
"Is it going to - come around?" Xander asked, dropping the chain over his head and shivering. He picked the medallion up and studied it, and Spike could see the gooseflesh on his arms.
"Dunno. The witches might have got it stirred up. It knows we know, now, and... Well, it might run, or it might attack. Never can tell."
"Oh. Fuck, this thing is cold." Xander settled the medallion on the outside of his shirt and started to slowly work his boots off. "If it comes here... Will it come for me? Or for - anybody that's around?"
"Rupert said it needs power to keep the form it's made. Or borrowed, I guess." Spike shed his coat to a kitchen chair - pulled off his own boots and got a beer from the cabinet. "Want one?" he asked, raising the bottle, and Xander nodded slowly.
"So it'll probably go for...Giles or - or you? It got everything it could from me," Xander added, slumping down and propping his bare feet on the coffee table and Spike came over and flopped down next to him - handed Xander his beer and opened his own.
"Could do, mate. Won't get to us without a fight, though. Should see our Ripper with a sword."
Xander snorted softly. "Ripper? What, is that his secret Watcher name?" He opened his beer and took a long drink - rubbed absently at his chest, his fingers not quite touching the medallion.
"Oh, no. That's the name he went by back in his glory days. Have to ask him, some time. It's worth it to see him go all red and fumble for his handkerchief."
Xander laughed softly but then he sobered, picking at the label on his bottle. "Did I... Was I actually any good? I mean - at fighting and stuff? You said -"
"Oh, I know." Spike drank deeply - leaned his head back and looked at the ceiling, thinking. "Mostly just takin' the piss, mate. You didn't have any real training - and why Giles never showed you lot how to fight better is beyond me - but you managed." Spike rummaged in his mental memory file, digging until he found something Dawn had told him about on one of his sitting nights. "Had a run-in with a chaos mage one year at Halloween - you all got turned into your costumes and you were dressed up like G.I. Joe or some such. Said you remembered being the soldier for a long time."
"Yeah?"
"Oh, sure. You stole this rocket-launcher from the Army base there and gave it to the Slayer so she could take out a baddie."
"Huh." Xander didn't say anything else but Spike could just see the slow smile curling up the corners of his mouth and he smiled himself - drank another mouthful of beer and stretched out, feet bumping Xander's a little on the table.
"So... You up for some chicken and something violent?"
"Always up for one of those," Spike said, and Xander elbowed him as he got up and went into the kitchen, small smile stretched to a wide grin.
For a visual of Spike's place, go here.
