FIC: Thinking it Through (1/1)-- S/X-- R-ish, at most-- Reflection #5
Previous parts can be found HERE
TITLE: Thinking it Through (1/1)
AUTHORED BY: Tisienne
RATING: NC-17-ish, I think.
PAIRING: S/X
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I’m just playing in his sandbox. No money made. Ever.
SUMMARY: Spike figures a few things out… which only leads to more questions.
A/N: This is #5 in the ‘Reflection’ series.
POV: Spike’s again.
* * * * *
Was too good to be true.
Know that now.
Whoever those bloody Voices were that sent me back, they were right.
I’m supposed to be with whoever their bloody fucking ‘Warrior’ is.
It just took them-or maybe the world-a little while to figure out that old Spike wasn’t playing ball, but when they did…
Yeah, the tossers took care of me good and proper, didn’t they?
Guess their pet once-a-vamp wasn’t supposed to want anything for himself, right? Wasn’t meant to have anything that could possibly be mistaken for happiness.
Hate to admit it, but maybe Broody had the right of it.
Better to expect misery and embrace it, yeah? Won’t be so bloody disappointed that way.
I can’t stand this flat, for fuck’s sake. It’s too sodding big, even if it is bloody well tiny. Got used to Xander’s place, I did.
Got used to Xander.
Could always feel him there, like some sort of invisible presence; even when he was gone, I knew he’d be coming back and I suppose some part of my brain filled the empty space with him… with what he’d do when he was there again, be it sitting on the couch or taking a shower or listening to music, or even better, shagging like a wild thing.
Was like I could see him, feel the rooms just waiting to be full of his laughter and horrible jokes and…
And this isn’t bloody helping, is it?
Bloke put me out and I should hate him for it, but… I don’t. Can’t.
Hell, I can’t even blame him for doing it.
The boy took what I was offering. He never said forever or always… never even said he liked me, in point of fact. Loved my ass? Yeah, he did say that much, but…
My own fault.
Never should have thought it was anything more than just a ‘so fucking tight; thank you, Spike’. Never should have let it be more to myself, either, but I was never too bloody bright when it came to my heart, was I?
Been seeing affection that didn’t exist in people since long before I ever ran into Drusilla, after all.
Should have learned better by now, I suppose, but obviously I didn’t.
I guess I should be glad that he didn’t put me out with nothing, though. Gave me the clothes he’d bought me, and a suitcase… hell, he even found this flat for me and paid it up for six months. Put a check in with my things, but I didn’t find it until after I was done crying and started unpacking.
Six thousand pounds. For ‘services rendered’, for fuck’s sake!
Was bloody well furious about that at first, to be honest.
Services rendered!? Like I’m some kind of whore to be bought and sold?
I caught myself thinking, right at first, that the boy wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer; that he likely didn’t know how that would sound… and moments later, I discovered that I was crying again, only this time… this time it was because I was laughing so bloody hard.
Not even Xander bloody Harris could be that sodding obtuse. Not even when he was a mere boy in Sunnydale, chasing after the Slayer’s skirts with an eye to getting up them had he been that bloody unaware.
And that meant… what?
Something I’m only figuring out now, hours later.
The boy wants me to be angry. Wants me to hate him, maybe.
Wants me to walk away and not look back, in any case…
But he was so fucking happy to see me when I showed up, and it wasn’t until the last day or so that he got all… odd. Odder than usual, I mean.
So, yeah.
Something happened.
Something that made him think I’d be better off away from him… or he would be.
Maybe it’s that bloody Warrior; maybe he-she-or-it came looking and threatened the boy. Maybe it threatened me and Xander figures I’m safer if I look to be available for it.
Don’t know, and more importantly? I don’t much care.
Never signed myself over to the bloody Powers as carrot or stick, did I?
Yeah, a case could be made that they brought me back and that means I owe them, but… it’s a faulty argument at best.
Never asked to come back. Never was asked. Just… suddenly there, wasn’t I, and by that reckoning, I don’t belong to the bloody Powers.
Helped them out a bit, yeah, but… I’m my own bloke. Always was. And it’s up to me to decide who and what has me for its own.
I remember every moment of my existence.
I remember each long, convoluted plan Angelus ever came up with and I remember very clearly just how to out-stubborn beings with far more power than I ever had. Hell, time was, I’d have died rather than give in.
And it seems that time still is because… if I’m supposed to be some sort of a prize for whatever creature the Voices like, rather than choosing my own place?
They can take this bloody fucking humanity and shove it straight up their retentive bloody asses!
I scream it out, my eyes clenched shut with the force of it, and I almost think I can feel something being surprised.
“Go ahead,” I shout again into the chilly air of my flat, “send me ta Hell if you want ta, but I’m not goin’ ta be your slave! Don’t want your bleedin’ Warrior! Want Harris, I do, an’ I’m for bloody damned sure goin’ ta get him back! An’ you an’ your whole lot can piss off an’ leave us alone!”
Bloody hell. That felt good. Feels good. I feel good!
Now all I need to do is… find my bloke and convince him that whatever the Powers’ pissant ‘Warrior’ said to him isn’t binding on me, and…
And that’s enough of a plan. Not like I’d actually follow it if it were any longer, after all.
Find my bloke. Get him back.
Sounds to be simple enough.
* * * * *
“You… bloody… tosser!”
Yeah, I’m snarling. Why shouldn’t I be?
“Spike,” he says, like he’s humoring me, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but…”
“Shut th’ fuck up!” And I’m snarling again. More. “Might be human but I’m not bloody well blind, am I? Saw you, Xander! Been followin’ you for nights now, I have! Just never caught th’ action before.” I glare. “Figured th’ Slayers an’ such always managed ta scamper off by th’ time I caught up, but that wasn’t it atall; was it, mate!”
And that’s beyond being bloody fucking true, too.
Five nights I’ve followed him, cursing the mere humanity that always let his longer stride and stronger form outpace me. Spent what felt like eternities dashing from shadow to shadow on cold, darkened streets just so he wouldn’t glance back and see me there stalking him.
He never quite lost me completely. I could always at least hear his footsteps echoing just a bit in the narrow lanes between the buildings… and when I did catch up eventually, it was always to peer around a corner or a doorway or from behind a parked car to see him standing there, sais in his hands, shaggy hair wild as he stood above the shape-or dust or slowly spreading pool of ooze or deflating skin-sack-of whatever it was he’d been fighting.
I really had assumed that I’d just missed seeing the rest of whatever team he always met up with, but tonight… oh, God. Tonight, I think my heart almost stopped.
“What are you?” My tone is demanding, but damn it, I have a right, don’t I? Bloke just sat about after I came back and never said one single bloody word about being stronger and faster than any Slayer I’ve ever seen… never mentioned that he could heal up quicker than I ever did as a vamp-even when I was still on the human-straight-from-the-tap!
Hell, he never once bothered to tell me that I didn’t have to worry when he went out at night and left me ‘sleeping’ in his bed, did he, and what kind of lover-or even friend-keeps that sort of thing to himself? He had to know I was going completely bloody bug-fuck nuts with wondering if I’d ever see him again, and not… one… word.
Almost want to take back the question when the boy frowns, but I can’t. Won’t. Made up my mind that I want him, however sudden it seems now.
I mean, when exactly did I decide I wanted the boy?
Always thought he was a bit of alright in the looks department, I suppose, no matter what I may have said to him more than once, back in the day… and I did appreciate his sarcastic bent. Not so much when it was pointed at me, granted, but still.
But I never seriously thought about the boy as someone to have… someone to love. Hell, I barely even gave him a thought while I was in Los Angeles, and yet here I am, back from wherever… and human… and I love him.
Guess something’s showing on my face now because he’s suddenly right there in front of me, less than an inch between us, and…
“Come home, Spike,” he says on a long sigh. “I… I guess I need to tell you some things.”
One part of me wants to snarl and snap ‘you guess?’… but another part is nearly vibrating at the fact of the words before that. ‘Come home’, he said. ‘Come home, Spike’, he said… and if he’s thinking of the place he kicked me out of as my home, then… that has to mean something, right?
Like maybe… maybe he misses me.
Maybe he’s spent hours tossing and turning and feeling too alone, too.
And maybe, just maybe… Xander cares at least a little bit about me.
I can’t let myself think he might love me, but if he cares even that wee bit, then… there’s hope, right?
I’ll let myself believe there is, in any case, despite the possibility that he really meant ‘come to my home’.
Besides, once he lets me back in, he’ll need a bloody prybar-and possibly a Clydesdale-to make me leave again because I’ve figured it out in the last three seconds that felt like a year.
My bloke is the Warrior.
I was sent to him, for him.
I’m what Xander wants!
And what was it that male Voice said?
‘Who is to say when want might become need’, it was.
So I’ve got a new plan, don’t I?
Make him need me.
Yeah. I can do that.
~End
TITLE: Thinking it Through (1/1)
AUTHORED BY: Tisienne
RATING: NC-17-ish, I think.
PAIRING: S/X
DISCLAIMER: Joss owns them. I’m just playing in his sandbox. No money made. Ever.
SUMMARY: Spike figures a few things out… which only leads to more questions.
A/N: This is #5 in the ‘Reflection’ series.
POV: Spike’s again.
* * * * *
Was too good to be true.
Know that now.
Whoever those bloody Voices were that sent me back, they were right.
I’m supposed to be with whoever their bloody fucking ‘Warrior’ is.
It just took them-or maybe the world-a little while to figure out that old Spike wasn’t playing ball, but when they did…
Yeah, the tossers took care of me good and proper, didn’t they?
Guess their pet once-a-vamp wasn’t supposed to want anything for himself, right? Wasn’t meant to have anything that could possibly be mistaken for happiness.
Hate to admit it, but maybe Broody had the right of it.
Better to expect misery and embrace it, yeah? Won’t be so bloody disappointed that way.
I can’t stand this flat, for fuck’s sake. It’s too sodding big, even if it is bloody well tiny. Got used to Xander’s place, I did.
Got used to Xander.
Could always feel him there, like some sort of invisible presence; even when he was gone, I knew he’d be coming back and I suppose some part of my brain filled the empty space with him… with what he’d do when he was there again, be it sitting on the couch or taking a shower or listening to music, or even better, shagging like a wild thing.
Was like I could see him, feel the rooms just waiting to be full of his laughter and horrible jokes and…
And this isn’t bloody helping, is it?
Bloke put me out and I should hate him for it, but… I don’t. Can’t.
Hell, I can’t even blame him for doing it.
The boy took what I was offering. He never said forever or always… never even said he liked me, in point of fact. Loved my ass? Yeah, he did say that much, but…
My own fault.
Never should have thought it was anything more than just a ‘so fucking tight; thank you, Spike’. Never should have let it be more to myself, either, but I was never too bloody bright when it came to my heart, was I?
Been seeing affection that didn’t exist in people since long before I ever ran into Drusilla, after all.
Should have learned better by now, I suppose, but obviously I didn’t.
I guess I should be glad that he didn’t put me out with nothing, though. Gave me the clothes he’d bought me, and a suitcase… hell, he even found this flat for me and paid it up for six months. Put a check in with my things, but I didn’t find it until after I was done crying and started unpacking.
Six thousand pounds. For ‘services rendered’, for fuck’s sake!
Was bloody well furious about that at first, to be honest.
Services rendered!? Like I’m some kind of whore to be bought and sold?
I caught myself thinking, right at first, that the boy wasn’t the sharpest knife in the drawer; that he likely didn’t know how that would sound… and moments later, I discovered that I was crying again, only this time… this time it was because I was laughing so bloody hard.
Not even Xander bloody Harris could be that sodding obtuse. Not even when he was a mere boy in Sunnydale, chasing after the Slayer’s skirts with an eye to getting up them had he been that bloody unaware.
And that meant… what?
Something I’m only figuring out now, hours later.
The boy wants me to be angry. Wants me to hate him, maybe.
Wants me to walk away and not look back, in any case…
But he was so fucking happy to see me when I showed up, and it wasn’t until the last day or so that he got all… odd. Odder than usual, I mean.
So, yeah.
Something happened.
Something that made him think I’d be better off away from him… or he would be.
Maybe it’s that bloody Warrior; maybe he-she-or-it came looking and threatened the boy. Maybe it threatened me and Xander figures I’m safer if I look to be available for it.
Don’t know, and more importantly? I don’t much care.
Never signed myself over to the bloody Powers as carrot or stick, did I?
Yeah, a case could be made that they brought me back and that means I owe them, but… it’s a faulty argument at best.
Never asked to come back. Never was asked. Just… suddenly there, wasn’t I, and by that reckoning, I don’t belong to the bloody Powers.
Helped them out a bit, yeah, but… I’m my own bloke. Always was. And it’s up to me to decide who and what has me for its own.
I remember every moment of my existence.
I remember each long, convoluted plan Angelus ever came up with and I remember very clearly just how to out-stubborn beings with far more power than I ever had. Hell, time was, I’d have died rather than give in.
And it seems that time still is because… if I’m supposed to be some sort of a prize for whatever creature the Voices like, rather than choosing my own place?
They can take this bloody fucking humanity and shove it straight up their retentive bloody asses!
I scream it out, my eyes clenched shut with the force of it, and I almost think I can feel something being surprised.
“Go ahead,” I shout again into the chilly air of my flat, “send me ta Hell if you want ta, but I’m not goin’ ta be your slave! Don’t want your bleedin’ Warrior! Want Harris, I do, an’ I’m for bloody damned sure goin’ ta get him back! An’ you an’ your whole lot can piss off an’ leave us alone!”
Bloody hell. That felt good. Feels good. I feel good!
Now all I need to do is… find my bloke and convince him that whatever the Powers’ pissant ‘Warrior’ said to him isn’t binding on me, and…
And that’s enough of a plan. Not like I’d actually follow it if it were any longer, after all.
Find my bloke. Get him back.
Sounds to be simple enough.
* * * * *
“You… bloody… tosser!”
Yeah, I’m snarling. Why shouldn’t I be?
“Spike,” he says, like he’s humoring me, “I don’t know what you think you saw, but…”
“Shut th’ fuck up!” And I’m snarling again. More. “Might be human but I’m not bloody well blind, am I? Saw you, Xander! Been followin’ you for nights now, I have! Just never caught th’ action before.” I glare. “Figured th’ Slayers an’ such always managed ta scamper off by th’ time I caught up, but that wasn’t it atall; was it, mate!”
And that’s beyond being bloody fucking true, too.
Five nights I’ve followed him, cursing the mere humanity that always let his longer stride and stronger form outpace me. Spent what felt like eternities dashing from shadow to shadow on cold, darkened streets just so he wouldn’t glance back and see me there stalking him.
He never quite lost me completely. I could always at least hear his footsteps echoing just a bit in the narrow lanes between the buildings… and when I did catch up eventually, it was always to peer around a corner or a doorway or from behind a parked car to see him standing there, sais in his hands, shaggy hair wild as he stood above the shape-or dust or slowly spreading pool of ooze or deflating skin-sack-of whatever it was he’d been fighting.
I really had assumed that I’d just missed seeing the rest of whatever team he always met up with, but tonight… oh, God. Tonight, I think my heart almost stopped.
“What are you?” My tone is demanding, but damn it, I have a right, don’t I? Bloke just sat about after I came back and never said one single bloody word about being stronger and faster than any Slayer I’ve ever seen… never mentioned that he could heal up quicker than I ever did as a vamp-even when I was still on the human-straight-from-the-tap!
Hell, he never once bothered to tell me that I didn’t have to worry when he went out at night and left me ‘sleeping’ in his bed, did he, and what kind of lover-or even friend-keeps that sort of thing to himself? He had to know I was going completely bloody bug-fuck nuts with wondering if I’d ever see him again, and not… one… word.
Almost want to take back the question when the boy frowns, but I can’t. Won’t. Made up my mind that I want him, however sudden it seems now.
I mean, when exactly did I decide I wanted the boy?
Always thought he was a bit of alright in the looks department, I suppose, no matter what I may have said to him more than once, back in the day… and I did appreciate his sarcastic bent. Not so much when it was pointed at me, granted, but still.
But I never seriously thought about the boy as someone to have… someone to love. Hell, I barely even gave him a thought while I was in Los Angeles, and yet here I am, back from wherever… and human… and I love him.
Guess something’s showing on my face now because he’s suddenly right there in front of me, less than an inch between us, and…
“Come home, Spike,” he says on a long sigh. “I… I guess I need to tell you some things.”
One part of me wants to snarl and snap ‘you guess?’… but another part is nearly vibrating at the fact of the words before that. ‘Come home’, he said. ‘Come home, Spike’, he said… and if he’s thinking of the place he kicked me out of as my home, then… that has to mean something, right?
Like maybe… maybe he misses me.
Maybe he’s spent hours tossing and turning and feeling too alone, too.
And maybe, just maybe… Xander cares at least a little bit about me.
I can’t let myself think he might love me, but if he cares even that wee bit, then… there’s hope, right?
I’ll let myself believe there is, in any case, despite the possibility that he really meant ‘come to my home’.
Besides, once he lets me back in, he’ll need a bloody prybar-and possibly a Clydesdale-to make me leave again because I’ve figured it out in the last three seconds that felt like a year.
My bloke is the Warrior.
I was sent to him, for him.
I’m what Xander wants!
And what was it that male Voice said?
‘Who is to say when want might become need’, it was.
So I’ve got a new plan, don’t I?
Make him need me.
Yeah. I can do that.
~End