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It's Just a Jump to the Left
by kimberly_a
Part 1: Naked. With Spike.
When the fight was over, Xander was still lying in the grass, blinking to try to clear his vision. Spike stood over him, not mocking him for getting smacked down by the spiny demon, just extending a hand in a silent offer of help. When Xander reached up, they clasped hands and Spike lifted him to his feet.
They turned and walked on as if nothing had happened. Spike was flipping his knife into the air, catching it by the handle, flipping it into the air, catching it again. It was a habit he'd picked up over the summer for no apparent reason. Sometimes Xander wished he could flip a knife like that -- it looked so cool -- but imagining what his hand would look like with no fingers always cured him of any desire to fling sharp objects around.
Xander rubbed the back of his head, where a large lump was forming. He must have hit his head when he got thrown to the ground during the fight. Great. Why was he always the one who got tossed around like the morning newspaper? Oh, right ... because Spike was the one running around killing things. Nice buddy system they had going there. Xander glanced back at the collection of spiny demon parts on the ground behind them as they walked away. "That both of them?" he asked. It was hard to tell, what with the unidentifiable parts and all.
"Nah. The little bastard buggered off while I was ripping the big one's head off." Spike flipped his knife into the air and caught it. I wish I could do that, thought Xander. But Spike was still talking, grumbling, "Can't even get a good fight around here these days."
Any fight that involved him hitting the ground hard enough to cause painful lumps was plenty of fight for Xander, but Spike seemed restless. Xander rolled his eyes and said, "I'm so sorry the Hellmouth is not satisfying your vampire entertainment needs."
Spike flipped his knife and caught it, the blade gleaming sharp and silver in the moonlight. "You should be sorry, brat. Few things more dangerous than a bored vampire." He flipped his knife and caught it. It was strangely hypnotic. Xander tore his eyes away with some effort.
"Yeah? Well, there's a lot of things more dangerous than a chipped vampire. Like paper cuts, maybe. At least those can hurt me." Xander grinned.
"A newborn baby could hurt you, Harris." Spike shook his head, a hint of a smile twitching at his lips. The insults were old, familiar, but they didn't really hurt anymore. It had been a long summer, and they'd gotten to know each other a lot better since ... since Buffy.
It was nice just to hang around with somebody and not have it be all emotional and weird. Spike had gotten a lot quieter since Buffy's death, but it was sort of nice to be able to just walk along with someone and not talk. Their silences were comfortable, sort of like the insults.
If it were Willow, it would be the "why won't you talk to me about how you feel?" silence that had been between them since that night at the tower. If it were Dawn, it would be the "tell me everything's okay" silence that seemed to follow her everywhere. He didn't really know Tara well enough to have anything in particular between them, which meant they experienced the "I guess I should make small talk" silence. The silence from Giles was pretty obvious, since he was back in England. And Anya ... well ... if Anya was around, it would be the "why wouldn't you give me what I wanted?" post-relationship silence.
But Spike ... Spike didn't expect anything out of him, didn't want him to spill his guts or comfort him or make small talk or anything like that. Spike just walked beside him, flipping his knife, looking around in the darkness. Xander would die before admitting to Spike how comforting that was sometimes, to be able to just hang with him on their patrols.
It wasn't like they were friends, exactly, but things had changed after Buffy was gone. They'd all had to rely on each other more, especially after Giles left. They almost never mentioned Buffy's name. It was like they were all afraid that talking about her would upset the precarious balance they'd finally accomplished.
And so they didn't talk about Buffy, but they all pretended that everything was okay.
Spike didn't pretend that everything was okay. He didn't talk about Buffy, either, but he had just gone rather grimly quiet for a few months there, not talking much at all. He'd patrol, he'd spend time with Dawn, he'd fight when they needed him, but he was really strangely quiet. Lately, he'd slowly begun talking a bit more to Xander while they patrolled, just guy stuff: insults, fight talk, rants about something on tv, that sort of thing. And apparently tonight he was feeling bored.
"I heard Jonathan Richman's playing at The Bronze tomorrow night," Xander offered
Spike growled, "So?"
"So that's entertainment. And it's kind of a big deal for the Sunny D, don't you think? He's all famous and stuff."
"Jonathan Richman? That wanker?" Spike's voice was disgusted. "What a sell-out." He flipped his knife with a bit of additional frustration, so that it spinned an extra time before he caught it. That's so cool.
"What do you mean 'a sell-out'?" Xander rubbed the back of his head. Man, that lump was getting big.
"The wanker was one of the forefathers of punk rock. Used to be..."
And that's when it happened.
Xander probed the bump on his head just a bit too hard and then it really hurt. He closed his eyes with a grimace of pain, hissing, "Ow!"
{blink}
And when he opened his eyes, everything was different. He still had his hand holding the back of his head, and it still hurt, but he wasn't in the cemetery anymore. And he wasn't wearing clothes. And Spike was standing really close to him. And Spike wasn't wearing any clothes, either.
What the fuck is going on? No! No 'fuck'! What the hell? Yeah, 'cause this would definitely be hell. Me, naked, with Spike.
And the even worse thing? Spike looked incredibly pissed off, like he wanted to rip Xander's head off and use it for a bowling ball.
Okay, I don't know what's going on here, but this seems like a good time to cover myself and run away like a big girlie man.
Unfortunately, it didn't look like that was going to happen, because something very strange was going on. It was like Xander was inside his own body, but he wasn't in control of it. He was panicking on the inside, but he just stood there, naked, gazing back at a naked, pissed-off Spike.
Is it a spell? It must be a spell. Because I have no idea how I got here or why it feels like I'm just watching what's happening, instead of really being here.
But, in all honesty, it didn't feel like a spell. It felt more like ... a memory. But that was so not possible, because Xander was pretty sure he would have noticed if he'd ever been this up-close-and-personal with Spike nakedness. They'd been roomies, sure, sort of, but not that kind of roomies. Not naked roomies.
How do I get out of this? I hope Willow knows about the spell and is working on saving me, because I just don't even want to know why the whole nakedness thing is going on. I just want to get out of here. Preferably clothed. Clothed and in full possession of everything on my body that dangles.
Actually, now that he thought about it, not everything was dangling. Mr. Happy seemed to be enjoying the proceedings quite a bit. And, okay, that was so so much worse. Naked with Spike, and sporting wood.
Spike had been staring at him all this time -- though Xander wasn't sure how much time had passed -- but Spike now walked across the room toward the bed.
Bed? Hey, that's my bed! What are we doing in my apartment?
Xander wanted to avert his eyes, not look at naked Spike as he walked across the room, but he didn't have control over his own eyelids, and he was forced to watch. And he was oddly mesmerized by the movement of muscles in Spike's butt.
I am not staring at Spike's butt. I'm not I'm not I'm not! How do I get out of here? Help!
Spike turned to look at him again and raise one eyebrow, his mouth still set in a tense, angry line. "Got any lube?"
Xander felt himself nodding, while inside he was screeching, Lube? LUBE? Why do we need LUBE? Oh my god! This really is hell! Aloud, he heard himself say, "In the cabinet by the bed."
Spike opened the drawer and rummaged around a moment, then pulled out a small bottle, which he then tossed onto the bed. He turned around and eyed Xander again. His voice was harsh when he said, "That'll come in handy when I fuck you in the ass."
Inside, Xander was running around in panicked circles, making ridiculously frantic squawking noises, but he could feel his body react very differently. His cock throbbed and he licked his lips. His face felt hot, like he was blushing, and his voice sounded kind of nervous when he replied, "Yeah, I guess it will."
What the fuck? What the fuck? Why would I be okay with this? Because I just can't imagine a universe in which I would be okay with this. Did Spike threaten to kill me if I didn't do what he said? Or did he drug me?
But, again, it didn't really feel like he'd been threatened or drugged. He could feel how his body felt, and his heart was beating fast, his cock was hard and aching, and his lips were sort of swollen and sensitive, like he'd been kissing really hard. And there was a familiar sort of tension in his stomach, tension of the Oh, yeah, I want this variety, a tension he had mostly felt before first kisses, when he knew what was going to happen, but felt a little scared and a lot excited and really really nervous. He'd never really felt that way about sex, because with Faith it had all happened too fast and with Anya it had just been so ... pragmatic. Both she and Faith had just sort of told him what to do and taken what they wanted.
"Then come over here and suck me off," Spike said, and Xander felt his heart race faster. Okay, so maybe he sort of liked being told what to do -- but not by Spike -- and that didn't mean this made any sense whatsoever.
Why Spike? Why am I here with Spike? Okay, so he's not so evil anymore, and he's almost sort of my friend, but he's still a guy, and a vampire, and ... uh ... definitely not hot. I mean, I don't think he's hot. Well, I mean, I can see how girls would think he was hot. But I don't.
But he was walking slowly toward Spike, who was now leaning casually against the tall footboard, his -- not hot not hot -- ass resting slightly against the top edge, his left hand resting on the bedpost. He watched Xander with a slight smirk on his lips. He had a sort of "lord of the manor" look about him, lounging there, waiting for Xander to ... to ... service him.
Xander didn't stop walking until his body was lightly brushing Spike's, his feet spread so that Spike's legs were pressed between his thighs. Xander watched Spike's face for a long moment, and then leaned in and kissed him.
It was different from any kiss Xander had ever experienced, harder, rougher, hungrier. His body was almost shivering with the intensity ... he could feel a slight fluttering trembling inside his chest and he thought maybe his hands were shaking. Spike's lips were soft, but his tongue was wet and strong and demanding, thrusting into Xander's mouth over and over again, tangling with Xander's tongue, making him clutch Spike's upper arms in his hands, until at last Xander had to pull away to catch his breath. He was panting. Spike's hands were tight on his hips. They stared at each other.
Watching all of this, feeling it, feeling Spike's kiss, feeling his own body's reactions, Xander was having trouble forming any coherent thoughts. No one had ever kissed him like that. It was so ... well ... yeah ... hot.
Xander slowly slid down Spike's body until he was kneeling on the floor. Spike's cock was right in front of his face, and it was hard. Xander looked up at Spike, who was watching him, and then he wrapped a hand around the base of Spike's cock and took the head into his mouth.
Oh my god! I have a cock in my mouth! I have Spike cock in my mouth! What am I doing? It's a spell! It has to be a spell! A really really evil spell!
Xander continued licking and sucking, moving his way further down, getting more and more of Spike's cock into his mouth.
How do I know how to do this? Why am I so calm about giving a blow job? What ... I just get down on my knees and suck off every vampire who tells me to? What kind of bizarro world is this?
Then suddenly Spike was manhandling him roughly until he was on all fours on the fake Persian rug. "Stay there," Spike growled before leaping to his feet and returning only seconds later to kneel behind him.
No no no no! This is not happening! Maybe it's a really really bad dream. A really bad dream which I will never ever tell anyone about.
Then Xander felt Spike leaning forward and wrapping an arm around him to grasp his cock with a slippery hand.
Spike is holding my dick. Spike. Is holding. My dick. This sentence makes no sense.
It felt good, though.
Hey, touching my dick feels good. It doesn't matter who's doing it. It's just ... biology. But I can't believe I'm enjoying Spike giving me a hand job. Well, I mean, hand jobs are good, just by definition. But still...
And then Spike trailed a slippery finger along Xander's hole.
Ack! Danger, Will Robinson! Somebody help me! Willow? Somebody! I really don't like where this seems to be going.
Spike kept up a slow stroke on Xander's cock while he simultaneously worked on relaxing and opening Xander's body.
And now there are fingers! Fingers! No! No fingers! Please no fingers! Why am I just letting him do this to me?
The fingers inside Xander felt strange, but he'd read about the prostate. Even tried to find his once or twice in the shower. No luck, though. He'd figured that was why some guys liked the butt stuff -- you know, the gay guys -- but he'd never really understood the appeal until now. It actually felt ... it felt weird ... but it felt really sensitive, too. In a good way. Better than when he'd used his own finger -- which had actually felt kind of good, too -- just like somebody else's hand on his cock was way better than masturbating.
Again, it's just biology, right? It doesn't matter whose hand it is! But ... Spike hand! Spike hand! Spike hand ... in my butt! This is way wronger than any other really wrong thing.
He didn't know how many fingers Spike had inside him now, but it felt tight and slippery and sort of stretched, but not hurting. Something inside him was feeling even better than before, little brief flashes of something that made him buck and groan. He sort of wanted more -- more something -- because if this felt good, then more should feel even better, right?
No! I don't want more! I don't care if it feels good! If Spike said jumping off a cliff felt good, would you do it, too? No! No feeling good with Spike. Oh my god ... I can't believe my dick is this hard when I've got Spike's fingers in my ass.
Spike was talking, interrupting Xander's panicked thoughts. "I'd just fuck you now," Spike said, his voice low and rough, "if the chip would let me. I'd hurt you, ride you hard, none of this slow and gentle crap." Spike's hands on him, both front and back, were speeding up and Xander was feeling the beginning of an orgasm building. "Never had anybody in your ass, hey? You'd be tight and hot and you'd scream when I pounded in."
Suddenly, the hand which had been on his cock was gripping the back of his neck, still slick with lube but holding him tightly.
Help! Vampire! Vampire has me! Naked gay vampire has me! Run away! Run away!
Spike pushed Xander's head down so that his cheek was pressed against the rug, his ass raised obscenely high behind him. Spike spat angrily, "Here's your last chance, boy. Run now or you'll be losing your cherry in about two seconds."
Why is he so pissed off about this? I'm the one getting shoved around like a whore. I'm the one who is apparently going to have a dick in his ass, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm going to be raped! Raped by Spike! I am so going to kill him after this! Wait until Willow finds out! She's one bad-ass witch these days ... oh ... wait ... no! Nobody finds out! I'll just kill him quietly and then no one will ever have to know that I...
And then he heard his own voice. "Please, Spike," he said softly.
What? Xander didn't know what to think. He really didn't sound -- or feel -- like Spike was forcing him to do anything. Not rape? But...
The hand on his neck relaxed and curved around the side of his head, encouraging Xander to raise his head and rise again onto his hands and knees, encouraging him to turn his head and look back at Spike, who had leaned forward again.
The fingers slid out of Xander's body and a thickness pressed against him.
Spike's cock, that's what that is. Spike is about to fuck me. And I asked him to do it. Yes, this is definitely hell.
Spike began to press forward, only the tiniest amount, but Xander felt that fullness inside him and moaned softly. It was so good ... he never would have imagined. He wanted more.
I am not gay. I am not gay. I do not want to have sex with Spike. Ever. Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?
Now Spike was leaning forward and Xander was craning his neck around and they were kissing as Spike began to slide slowly inside. Spike's hand slid from his neck up to cradle his head, make it less awkward as Spike began to move inside him.
This feels ... disgusting! Yeah. I don't like it at all. It feels gross. And terrible. Because I'm not gay. I mean, it's fine for gay people to like this -- from a purely physical standpoint, it does feel pretty good -- but not for non-gay people. Not for me. Nope. Not gay. Not liking the butt sex.
Their kiss grew more heated, Xander was feeling like he might come any minute, and Spike's hand on his head began to pull him even closer, pressing too hard on the bump on the back of Xander's head, making him wince slightly and think, Youch!
{blink}
"... worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though ... lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander nearly fell down, but Spike stopped talking and caught his arm as he stumbled. They were in the cemetery again, just walking like they'd been before ... before whatever that was.
A nightmare? But I was awake! I was just walking along, and then there was the utter insanity! Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Could this be a concussion? I've had concussions before, and they didn't involve frighteningly vivid imaginings of anal sex with the undead.
"Uh ... what?" Xander stammered, pulling away from Spike's steadying hand on his arm. Try to act normal, Xander my boy. Don't want to have to explain to Spike why I'm freaked. Because that would be BAD.
Spike eyed him with what looked almost like concern. "You tripped over your own feet. I already knew you were clumsy, but this was something, even for you."
"Oh," Xander laughed, hoping he sounded casual. "I just ... I wasn't looking where I was going. What were you saying?" He tried to look interested, hoping that Spike wouldn't ask any more questions.
Luckily, Spike just cast him another curious look and then continued walking, flipping his knife idly. "Was just explaining that Jonathan Richman is a sell-out former punk with bad rhyming skills."
As he walked, Xander's mind raced, trying to remember what they'd been talking about. He needed to act normal. Nothing to see here. Xander's just fine. No weird naked vampire fantasies. No butt sex. Just strollin' through the graveyard on a balmy autumn evening. Talking about Jonathan Richman. "But ... uh ... isn't he the guy from There's Something About Mary?" There, that sounded relatively normal.
Spike snorted. "Yeah, and ain't that a hard-driving work of musical genius. 'There's something about Mary that you don't knoooow' ... like what, you tosser? That she's got jizz in her hair?"
Xander laughed a bit nervously and Spike stopped walking again, turning to look at him with obvious suspicion.
Xander looked away, afraid Spike might be able to see something on his face. They had a stand-off for a few long, silent moments, and then Xander hunched his shoulders and admitted reluctantly, "I think maybe I have a concussion or something."
"You do seem a bit stupider than usual."
Xander looked up to see Spike was smirking. He made a frustrated noise and said, "Gee, thanks, Spike. No, I think I hit my head when that spiny demon threw me around. And then I ... I saw some kind of weird stuff." Xander continued quickly, "I definitely think something's wrong."
But Spike hadn't missed the vagueness. "What do you mean you're seeing 'weird stuff'?" he asked, peering more closely at Xander's face. "What kind of 'weird stuff'?"
Xander jumped further away and looked down at the ground, blushing. "None of your business! It's nothing! But it's weird, okay? It's definitely weird. And I want it to stop. So I need to see a doctor or something."
Spike arched an eyebrow and eyed Xander with obvious curiosity, but then shrugged. "Fine. Let's get you to a hospital, then, if everything's so bloody 'weird'."
Xander nodded vigorously, the lump on the back of his head still aching. "Yes, thank you, hospital, yes." Spike looked at Xander as if he had lost his mind, because yes, okay, he was probably acting a little strange, but that was because he was completely freaking out, not that he had any interest in explaining why.
Well, you see, Spike, I just had this little sudden vision of you fucking me up the ass while I begged for it.
Yeah, the hospital was a good idea, because it had to be a concussion. I mean, this was just too weird.
What else could it be?
Part 2: There and Back Again
Walking through Pleasant Hill Cemetery -- which was neither pleasant nor hilly -- on the way to the hospital, Xander started feeling a little ridiculous for making such a big deal about the whole thing. Okay, so he'd seen some weird stuff. Big deal.
Maybe I was just remembering a dream or something. I mean a nightmare. Actually, yeah, that's probably what it was. It sure seemed real, though.
Xander was just beginning to question whether he should tell Spike not to worry about going to the hospital when the sky abruptly opened up and pelted them with a sudden rainstorm.
"Argh!" cried Spike in frustration. "Can't anything go right today?"
Xander looked around the dark cemetery, hugging his arms tightly around himself, shivering. The night that had seemed so balmy only a few minutes ago seemed a lot colder when he was standing around in sopping wet clothes, water still pouring down his face, plastering his hair to his head.
"My crypt isn't far," Spike yelled over the sound of the rain. "We can go there to wait it out." Xander nodded and they jogged toward Spike's crypt, Xander's high-tops squishing in the mud.
When they got inside the crypt, Xander stood dripping on the cement while Spike went downstairs. He reappeared a few moments later and threw a towel at Xander's head. It hit him smack in the face, and he pulled it down and glared at Spike, who was vigorously towelling his hair so that it stuck up in wet curls. Xander started drying his hair carefully, not wanting to press too hard on the bump he'd gotten earlier.
Tossing his towel onto the nearby chair, Spike took off his duster and draped it over a wall sconce. Then he abruptly stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, beginning to towel off his naked upper body. Xander just stared at him. Spike's pale chest looked just the way he remembered it, and his abs were just as ripped as they'd been when Xander had slid down his body to kneel...
This is only freaking me out because of the dream. Normally, I wouldn't notice Spike at all. This is just some post-dream weirdness.
"Enjoying the show?" Spike's voice sounded amused, and Xander's face was suddenly so hot he thought it might just explode. Even the tips of his ears were burning.
"I told you I've got a concussion!" he snapped defensively. "I was just ... uh ... spacing out. I wasn't looking at you."
"Relax, Harris. I know you're not lusting after my luscious bod. Your loss." Spike's easy grin made it clear that he was just joking. He hadn't actually realized what was going through Xander's head. He had no idea about the dream thing.
Actually, now that I think about it, that should have been my first clue that it was a dream or a concussion or something. Because why would Spike be wanting to have sex with me? Okay, so he seemed really pissed off, so maybe he was doing it just to make fun of me or something. Fuck! What am I even thinking about this for? It was a dream! Or a hallucination! Or something like that ... it didn't actually happen.
A hand waved in front of his face, and then Spike was leaning close to look into Xander's eyes. "You went a bit slack there again. Your pupils look all right, though."
Having Spike right in his face like that made Xander's blush flare even warmer and he jerked his head back. Spike got a wrinkle between his eyebrows that Xander knew meant he was about to start asking more questions, so Xander just stepped further away and began drying his face with the towel, patting hesitantly at his dripping hair. "I'm fine."
Spike shrugged and went back to towelling off his chest and stomach. Xander turned to look at the wall, hoping his face would stop burning.
"I'm gonna go get into some dry clothes. Make yourself at home." Spike gestured to the chair and television. Xander nodded vaguely.
When Spike was gone, Xander relaxed a bit. His clothes were sopping, but he doubted Spike would have anything that fit him, since his legs were longer and his shoulders were wider. Not that I've been noticing Spike's legs or shoulders. Man, this dreamhallucinationconcussion thing was really throwing him for a loop! Just because it had been feeling good there at the end...
No. Nothing more to that thought. It just ends there. I am straight. I like having sex with girls. Even if it's been a while since I did so.
Spike came back up the stairs dressed in his usual uniform of black jeans, black T, and red shirt. But, lucky him, they were all dry. Xander shivered again. The crypt really wasn't much warmer than outside in the rain.
"Storm should pass pretty quick," Spike said, walking over to the crypt door and peering out.
Xander nodded mutely, then decided he should be trying to carry on a conversation. "Yeah, rain never lasts long this time of year." Talking about the weather now? What is this, a date? It's just patrol. We should be talking about ... normal stuff. What were we talking about before? Oh, right.
"So ... uh ... Jonathan Richman ... he used to be a punk rocker, huh? Punk turned sensitive poet. What're the chances of that?"
Spike gave him an odd look. What ... had he said something wrong? He thought that had sounded pretty normal. Then Spike smiled this strange little smile, like he knew something Xander didn't, and said, "You'd be surprised."
"What do you mean?" Xander asked, giving up on his futile attempts to pat his clothing dry with a towel. He pulled his t-shirt a bit away from his torso and began wringing it out onto the concrete floor. Spike didn't seem to mind.
Spike threw himself down into the armchair, dangling one leg over the arm and looking down at his fingernails in an oddly shy gesture. "The punk and the poet aren't that different," he said, still looking at his hands.
Xander snorted, feeling better now that they were back on familiar guy-talk ground. "Right. Because the Sex Pistols wrote such sensitive verse."
Spike looked up and smirked, looking much more like his old self. "Hey, don't knock it, Harris. 'God save the Queen, she ain't a human being' is classic." He pulled out his knife and started tossing it again. It was getting sort of irritating, actually, watching him always do that. Like he was showing off.
Xander didn't say anything for a long moment, and it seemed like the silence was a little less comfortable than it had been earlier that night. Now it was filled with all kinds of stuff Xander really didn't want to think about, let alone discuss. Spike tossed his knife, and Xander returned to trying to wring out his t-shirt. It would be easier if he took it off, but there was no way in hell that was going to happen. He glanced over at Spike again.
"So, I was wondering," Xander began hesitantly. Spike looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "You think you could maybe teach me how to throw a knife like that?"
Spike chuckled and replied, "You? You can't even walk without tripping over your own feet." But just as Xander was nodding and looking away again, embarrassed that he'd even asked, Spike continued, "Could give it a try, though. Pass the time." Xander turned back toward him, grinning. This'll be so cool!
They spent the next half-hour or so in companiable knife-tossing, and everything was good again. They were like buddies, just hanging out, doing guy stuff. Spike first made Xander just watch him, so that he could try to catch the rhythm. Then he gave Xander a stake to toss, instead, to see if he could catch it at the same end each time. When they finally heard the rain let up outside, Xander still hadn't worked up to flipping the knife, but he was feeling great that he'd asked and Spike had said yes and he was starting to learn.
As Spike pulled on his still-damp duster, he commented, "Could probably teach you to throw a knife in a fight, too. Something you could do from a distance, not get knocked around."
Xander almost bounced up and down -- okay, maybe he actually did bounce, just a little, but no real man would admit to such a thing -- and quickly said, "That would be great!"
The cemetery was muddy and depressing, but Xander felt like he was walking on air. He was learning to toss a knife! And was going to learn to throw knives in a fight! He pictured himself like the men in the magic shows, throwing knives to outline a nubile woman's body. He could do that! He could be knife-throwing Xander, the dangerously mysterious man!
They were almost to the entrance when Xander heard a low voice from behind them. "I feel the Jewel." And then there were hands on his neck, pulling him backward. Spike turned quickly and saw whatever was grabbing Xander, and he cursed.
"It's the fucking little one that got away earlier," Spike explained quickly. He punched over Xander's right shoulder, and suddenly Xander was released again, falling to sprawl awkwardly on the ground, trying to catch his breath.
"The little one?" he gasped, looking up at Spike's grim face. "That's not so bad, then, right?"
Spike jerked his chin behind Xander and growled, "He brought friends."
Xander's eyes widened and he turned to look. Three very large demons and one relatively small one were standing together a small distance away, and the small one was rubbing his jaw as if it was sore. They were all a green so dark it was almost black, with their backs and shoulders covered in sharp spines. The big ones all had huge, muscular bodies, like obscenely exaggerated weight-lifters. The small one eyed Xander and said firmly, "I can feel the Jewel."
Xander jumped to his feet and yelled, "Nobody's gonna be feeling any jewels, pal. Especially not my jewels!"
He didn't know if it was because of his yelling or if it was only coincidence, but that was when two of the larger demons lumbered forward and attacked Spike. The small demon began to smile, still watching Xander closely, and said, "You have been touched by the Jewel. And you shall lead me to it."
"I didn't touch anything!" Xander insisted, afraid to look away from the two demons in front of him to see how Spike was doing. He heard fighting still going on, and he trusted that Spike could take care of himself, but it was still nerve-wracking. The two demons facing him hadn't moved toward him again yet, but Xander was pretty sure they were just biding their time.
Then all sound of fighting behind him stopped and the little demon smiled wider. Xander couldn't take his eyes off of them. When one of the large demons that had been fighting Spike walked forward to join them, Xander thought, No! That's not the way it happens! Spike always wins the fights! He must be tricking them. And as the Spike-fighting demon turned and joined its two companions, a knife came flying from behind Xander and pierced the demon's eye. He -- or it or whatever -- fell to the ground, suddenly completely still. Xander felt Spike come to stand behind him again, though he still didn't turn to look, because that would mean looking away from the bad guys who apparently wanted to feel his "jewel." And that just wasn't going to happen.
Spike's whisper in his ear was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. "This is real trouble. So run. Get out of the cemetery ... the entrance isn't far."
Xander was just turning his head to insist that he wouldn't leave Spike alone when the remaining large demon moved forward. This time it wasn't one of the bad guys who knocked him to the ground; it was Spike. "Run!" he yelled as he shoved Xander behind him, but Xander had been in the midst of turning his head, and so he lost his balance. God! Don't I always do stuff like this! I'm completely useless!
And then the smaller demon was walking toward him ... and he was carrying a knife. It looked like Spike's knife. Did he pull it out of the other guy's eye? Ew. But then Xander suddenly realized that the guy who kept talking about feeling his jewels was walking toward him with a knife, and didn't that just conjure up the most frightening possible mental images? Xander started scooting away as fast as possible, but he was afraid to get up and start running because that again would require him to turn his back on Creepy Guy.
The small creepy demon licked his lips and grinned happily at Xander. There were still sounds of vigorously fighting coming from Spike's direction, but Xander had no idea whether Spike was going to get over here in time to save him. He had to figure something out to save himself.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," small demon guy said again, and Xander was getting really really tired of hearing him say that. "And when I hold your heart beating in the palm of my hand, you shall lead me to the power I seek."
Okay, that was scary enough to bring Xander scrambling to his feet, but he didn't have time to run, because the small demon was surprisingly fast, darting forward and lifting Xander by the throat so that his high-tops dangled a small distance above the ground. Then the demon turned him quickly, holding him from behind, one arm across his chest, and the grip was so tight that all Xander's struggles amounted to nothing. He saw the knife rising, shining silver in the moonlight, and he looked around frantically for Spike. He saw him not far away, still fighting the last of the spiny Schwarzenegger demons, though the other two lay on the ground unmoving. Spike looked badly beaten -- one of his arms was hanging at an odd angle and his face was a bloody, swollen mess. Xander realized that Spike must have already been pretty badly hurt earlier, when he'd told him to run.
And then everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The knife was shining as it came closer and closer to Xander's face, just like it had shone earlier when Spike was tossing it. Spike was still getting pummelled by the huge demon, blood running dark and red on his face from some unseen wound as his head flew back from a punch. The knife came closer and then gently touched Xander's throat, like a kiss. It sliced across in a smooth motion, and then there was wetness, just like the rain earlier, soaking his neck and his t-shirt. It didn't hurt. But he saw Spike's eyes widen, heard him scream, "Xander!" ... saw Spike frozen in horror, saw the huge demon grab him from behind and twist, twist in a remarkably graceful motion, like he was removing Spike's head like a bottle cap. And then there was dust where Spike had been and Xander couldn't feel anything except the wetness and a sort of buzzing in his head, kind of like the noise of static on the tv late at night, and his eyes drifted closed.
{blink}
Xander opened his eyes and immediately noticed that the bump on the back of his head was hurting, that his hand was pressed to it. And he was standing in his bedroom. Naked. And Spike was standing really close to him, and he was naked, too.
Spike looked incredibly pissed off, like he wanted to rip Xander's head off and use it for a bowling ball. But at least Spike's head was right where it should be.
What the fuck? What happened? Did I die? I saw Spike get dusted, but he's right here, and he looks fine! In fact ... this looks like what I saw in my weird concussion nightmare. Maybe this is a series of different nightmares? But, man, that seemed so real! I've never felt like that before. And seeing Spike get dusted! I mean, we've been sort of hanging out this summer, but ... that was like seeing Willow or Dawn get killed. It was horrible. I don't ever want to see that again. Man, if this is all concussion stuff then I'm gonna start wearing a crash helmet everywhere I go, because I can't take much more of this.
Spike was standing over near the bed now. He'd apparently walked away while Xander was lost in thought.
"Got any lube?" Spike asked abruptly, his face tense and angry.
And Xander heard himself answer, "In the cabinet by the bed."
Oh god. Here we go again.
Part 3: Set It Right
The first time he'd found himself naked with Spike, Xander had been pretty damn freaked out. But now he felt almost ... almost comforted by the fact that Spike was okay, and he was okay, and everything was happening exactly the way it had happened before. Nothing that had happened last time had hurt him, and he'd survived the experience, and so it really didn't seem quite so bad.
And, yes, a world in which I describe having Spike's dick up my ass as 'not so bad' is a world gone indescribably crazy.
Okay, so maybe naked romping with Spike was still more than a little disturbing, but it was infinitely less disturbing than both of them getting hacked to bits. There was a time, not all that long ago, when Xander would have sworn that he would rather die than have sex with Spike ... but now he knew from experience that it was most definitely not true.
So he found himself much more rational this time. He was naked. Spike was naked. Naughty penetration was likely to happen soon. But Xander had other problems to think about.
Okay, have to think. What's going on here? What's the deal with the sex, then the dying, then the sex again? Are these nightmares? Am I having big time hallucinations? Am I actually really dead, and this really is hell?
But by that time, Xander had walked across the room and was kissing Spike, and the experience was just as distracting as it had been the first time. Spike's mouth was by far the most talented he'd ever kissed. Okay, so he hadn't kissed all that many, but you'd think a gaziliion-year-old vengeance demon would have learned a thing or two over the years. Maybe she'd been sort of hampered by the whole vengeance-against-men gig. It probably didn't really attract dates. Except, apparently, Xander. Huh. Well, he'd always had odd taste.
Spike's kisses were like nothing Xander had ever felt, as if their mouths were sliding against each other in an extremely pornographic dance. It was like having the hottest possible sex ... with just your mouth. Xander could feel his cock rubbing against Spike's belly, brushing against Spike's cock occasionally in a touch that made his toes curl.
I was thinking about something. What was it? Damn ... I can't remember ... Oh god that feels good! Oh ... I was thinking this might be hell. But ... uh ... if people get kissed like this in hell, then I wouldn't mind going. I mean, as long as it's girls I'd be kissing like this. Right.
Xander pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, panting heavily, staring into Spike's eyes. And without the panic of last time, Xander noticed that Spike looked sort of strange. His face was all tight and his eyes were shiny. Spike raised his chin minutely, as if daring Xander to mock him for something.
Does he get a lot of people cutting him down after kisses like that? Man! No wonder I get so little play, if that's mock-worthy in today's market!
But now Xander was sliding down Spike's body, running his hands again over the familiarly muscular chest and stomach. Spike really was in good shape. As a guy, Xander could notice such things, without it being gay.
Of course, sucking on Spike's cock ... well ... that was arguably a little more into the 'gay' territory. But it was less scary the second time around. It still definitely gave him the wiggins, but it was a slightly less wiggy wiggins.
I can't believe I'm giving Spike a blow job again. Wasn't it enough I did this last time? And, you know, it's making my mouth sort of tired. Other than that, it's not so bad. I wonder why so many girls think it's gross. I mean, I hear that and read it in magazines and stuff ... that's the problem with having friends who are girls. And I so do not think I'll be sharing this particular experience with them.
Being less distracted this time, Xander noticed that Spike's hips were making small bucks and thrusts whenever he fondled Spike's balls while sucking especially hard on his dick. And Spike moaned softly sometimes, too. That was kind of cool.
Not that I like giving him head, of course, but I guess at least it's kind of nice to know that I'm not terrible at it. Wait. That sounds kind of weird. Well, it would be sort of embarrassing to have repeated sex fantasies that involved me trying to give Spike head and him falling down laughing at me. Yeah. As far as sex nightmares go, this one's pretty tame. Or hallucinations. Yeah, probably a very vivid hallucination. Wait. Don't crazy people have hallucinations? Like ... um ... Son of Sam?
And then Xander was manhandled onto his knees on the fake Persian carpet and Spike was kneeling behind him. A burst of unexpected and utterly humiliating excitement hit Xander as he realized that Spike was just about to take hold of his cock.
Ooooh!
And there it was, right on time, Spike's hand all slippery and tight on Xander's cock, stroking him slowly. Xander heard a moan come out of his own mouth. Yeah, that's pretty much what I was thinking.
This time the wet touch against his asshole wasn't quite as much of a shock, but it still made something inside Xander squirm with nervous fear, though fear of what he wasn't sure. He did his best to think deep thoughts while Spike worked slick fingers inside him, firmly stroking his cock all the while.
It could be ... uh ... gah! ... maybe I've gone crazy ... oh! do that again! oh, right, he can't hear me ... oh! but he did it again anyway! god! ... maybe ... it was all that ... masturbation ... unh! yeah! ... aren't hallucinations a symptom? ... oh god! ... uh ... my brain just couldn't ... uh ... uh ... oh god! ... yeah, maybe I'm ... ready for the ... oh sweet jesus ... funny farm...
And then he couldn't think anymore, no matter how determinedly he tried, because Spike was inside him, Spike was fucking him and kissing him, and the kiss was even better than the one before, because it was softer without losing any of the urgency. Xander couldn't do anything except feel, with Spike in him everywhere, touching him, stroking him, making him feel ... everything, all at once. It was as if he were drowning in sensations over which he had no control. He wondered what would happen if he were to come from this. Would his body come? Or would it just be him, in his thoughts?
Spike pressed into him a bit deeper and Xander arched his back, moaning, so close ... so close ... but then Spike's hand pressed too hard against Xander's head bump and Xander winced and thought, Youch!
{blink}
"... worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though ... lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander nearly fell down, his body still reacting as if it were nearing orgasm, as if his limbs were all disjointed with passion. And his dick was undeniably very hard in his pants. As he stumbled, though, Spike stopped talking and caught his arm, keeping him from falling. Xander glanced around them in utter confusion, then looked directly at Spike, who was still holding his arm as if to steady him.
"What?" gasped Xander abruptly, still looking around. "What?" He just couldn't seem to find more words to express his confusion. He had died, and then had the sex hallucination again, just like it was before and making no more sense the second time around, and now he was back just walking along with Spike like nothing had happened? The insanity option was looking more and more likely. Xander hoped they had a nice padded room with cable tv. Maybe even pay-per-view.
"What're you asking, Harris?" Spike was looking at him uncertainly.
Xander looked around some more. Normal cemetery. Normal Spike ... head attached ... fully-clothed version. Nothing was weird. Nothing except Xander.
His voice quiet and uncertain, Xander asked slowly, "What just happened?"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Nothin'. Just patrolling. Talking about that bloody Jonathan Richman. What, did my talk about his putrid poetry make you come over all sickly-like?" Spike smiled a sort of good-buddy kind of smile. But when Xander didn't laugh at the implied joke or respond in any away, Spike stopped smiling and just watched him with thinly-veiled concern, waiting.
Xander thought a long moment, aware of Spike standing impatiently, his head cocked to one side. Eventually, Xander looked up and said grimly, "Spike, I think I've gone crazy."
Spike raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Well!" he admitted with a sort of huff of breath. "Wasn't expecting that one."
"No, I'm serious. I might be a danger to self and others." Yeah, and I might spontaneously have butt sex with random hot vampires. I should be locked up to protect the innocent ... and the evil ... and my butt.
Once again, they weren't all that far from Spike's crypt when the rain started. Right on cue. Xander had decided that all of this -- or something like it, anyway, but which made more sense -- had probably really happened once, but his brain couldn't accept it all, and so he was just going around and around and around with these crazy thoughts. It must have been the sex. I must have had sex with Spike, and it drove me insane. Bats in the belfrey. They're coming to take me away, ha ha hee hee ho ho...
When they got inside the crypt, Xander stood dripping on the cement while Spike went downstairs. He reappeared a few moments later and threw a towel at Xander's head. It hit him smack in the face, and he pulled it down and glared at Spike, who was vigorously towelling his hair so that it stuck up in wet curls. Xander started drying his hair carefully, not wanting to press too hard on the bump he'd gotten earlier.
Tossing his towel onto the nearby chair, Spike took off his duster and draped it over a wall sconce. Then he abruptly stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, beginning to towel off his naked upper body. Xander just stared at him.
This is exactly what he did last time! Everything exactly the same! Maybe the Spike sex drove me insane, and so I imagined the rest, and that's why it's all the same but weird. Maybe I only imagined getting him dusted, like revenge or something.
"Enjoying the show?" Spike's voice sounded amused, and Xander looked up in embarrassed surprise. Okay, so this time he actually hadn't been ogling the Spike nudity, so he shouldn't get mocked for it.
"I wasn't looking..." Xander started to say, but Spike interrupted him with a wave of his hand.
"Relax, Harris. I know you're not lusting after my luscious bod. Your loss." Spike grinned and kept towelling his hair and chest.
A long moment passed, during which Xander kept running over possible ways to begin explaining the problem to Spike, but every idea got discarded once it got past a certain point. He felt like he was panicking, but wasn't sure exactly why or what to do about it.
Well, you see, Spike, I keep seeing the same stuff over and over again, and none of it makes any sense. Thus far, I've seen two things twice: one is us here, and one is us rutting like crazed weasels on the floor of my bedroom. So what do you think it means?
Spike's voice interrupted his spinning thoughts. "I'm gonna go get into some dry clothes. Make yourself at home." Spike gestured to the chair and television. Xander nodded vaguely.
Vivid hallucinations. I'm having vivid hallucinations. Pretty soon I'll be talking to mailboxes and piling newspapers to the ceiling. My apartment could be like a newspaper maze. I suppose that could be sort of fun. Add a bit of adventure to every day. Being crazy might not be so bad. I'll bet it never gets boring. Especially if I'm going to keep having sex hallucinations. Because I might call those a lot of things, but I wouldn't call them 'boring.'
Spike came back up the stairs dressed in his usual uniform of black jeans, black T, and red shirt. But, lucky him, they were all dry. Xander shivered. The crypt really wasn't much warmer than outside in the rain.
"Storm should pass pretty quick," Spike said, walking over to the crypt door and peering out.
Xander nodded morosely. "That's what you said last time." His panic had distilled into something small and still and frightened. On its way to resigned, but not quite there yet.
"Last time?"
"Yeah, the last time we did this. Right before we died."
"Right before we ... died." Spike's voice sounded awfully dubious on that last word.
"Yep. Died. We went walking out of here and ran into the demons and then I got my throat cut and you got your head torn off. It all pretty much sucked." Xander was still shivering. He wished Spike had a space heater or something.
"And you 'saw' this, did you? Like a vision?" Spike was eyeing Xander now with a familiar sort of speculation.
Xander walked away from the crypt door, holding his arms around himself and shivering slightly in his wet clothes. "I'm not your freaking Drusilla. I'm not some loony psychic vampire."
"No, of course you're not," Spike crooned comfortingly, but Xander only scowled, batting Spike away when he got too close and then scuttling to stand against the far wall.
Xander stared at Spike from across the room. "I told you I'm no longer riding the Sane Train. I don't know what happened, maybe it was the bump on the head," or the big gay vampire sex, "but I'm obviously looney tunes now."
Spike frowned. "I'm not so sure. There's a lot strange in the world, especially in the demon world. Tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what I think."
Xander sighed heavily. "Spike, I don't know what the hell's going on, but the only answer that makes any sense is that something funny is going on in my head."
Spike's face was unusually serious when he said, "Well, you're not bonkers, Harris. I'm infinitely well-acquainted with bonkers, and you're not it. Something insane might be happening, but you are not crazy."
Xander stilled, peering at Spike, waiting for the mockery. But it never came. "You really think so?"
Spike nodded.
Xander looked down at his feet and swore violently.
"What was that for?" Spike was clearly surprised at this reaction.
Shaking his head in frustrated anger, Xander explained, "Well, then, if I'm not crazy, then what about us both dying? It was real, Spike. It was real. I saw your head get torn off. I saw you turn to dust. Maybe we weren't friends to start with ... okay, yeah, we were sort of enemies ... but I've gotten used to having you around ... you're probably the closest thing I have to a real friend lately ... and I've gotten kind of used to having me around, too ... and I don't want either of us getting murdered."
Spike looked a bit taken aback at this little speech. His eyes were a bit wide, his face almost slack with something that looked a bit vulnerable. Even during those difficult months of silence, Spike had always seemed a bit distant. Like he didn't want anyone to know what was going on inside his head. But right now, it was pretty clear that Spike was shocked at Xander's words. Xander felt a little bad that he hadn't said something before this.
So maybe I hadn't ever actually said that I consider Spike my friend, but it was pretty obvious, wasn't it? I mean, all these months of hanging and patrolling together, watching each other's backs. I mean, I don't suppose I'm much good at the back-watching thing, since I mostly get knocked down, but, still, I try. And there's the whole comfortable silence thing. You don't get that with just anybody. And he was going to teach me how to throw knives.
Spike cleared his throat and his face suddenly looked as blank and clear as usual. "Well, I'm not so easy to get rid of. Maybe somebody's projecting stuff into your mind. Making you doubt yourself, making you doubt me. Something like that. Maybe somebody wants you to think you're off your nut."
"But who would want that?"
"Don't know, do I? I'm just throwing out ideas for consideration." Spike collapsed into the room's only chair, dangling one leg casually over the arm. He pulled out his knife and began tossing it idly, looking deep in thought.
Xander shivered again in his wet clothes, pulling his t-shirt a bit away from his torso and trying to wring it out with little success. It would be easier if he just took it off, but ... well ... actually, there didn't seem to be much reason not to, considering that he'd already hallucinated sex with Spike twice. What's a little partial nudity between friends?
Stripping his wet t-shirt off over his head with a slick plop, rather like turning a plastic glove inside out, Xander tossed the shirt onto a small table near him, then began drying his chest and arms with the towel.
"Nice pecs," smirked Spike, probably just trying to mock him. But he'd stopped tossing the knife.
"Thanks," Xander replied distractedly. "I've been working out. So you think maybe somebody is putting these thoughts into my brain?"
"Dunno. It's possible. Don't have much information to work with, do I? Tell me about what you've been seeing and we can try to figure it out." Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. Xander still wanted to learn how to do that, but it was not one of his top priorities at the moment.
"What do you want to know? Where do I start?"
"Well, you said I repeated myself earlier. So what else did I say 'last time'?"
"Um ... let me remember. You said you would teach me how to throw knives, and you gave me a sort of first lesson ... and we talked about ... oh! Right! We talked about Jonathan Richman some more ... and you said something like 'the punk and the poet are the same' or something weird like that."
Spike was suddenly rigid. The knife, strangely enough, clattered to the floor. Spike wasn't usually so uncoordinated. His voice was tense. "I said ... what?"
Xander shrugged, "It's probably just my craziness talking, so you shouldn't get all freaked. But the way I remember it, you were acting really strange and you said something about 'the punk rocker and the sensitive poet' being not very different."
Spike was staring at Xander as if he'd grown slimy antlers on top of his head. Xander looked behind him, looked up. Nope. No antlers. "What? Why are you looking all weird again?"
Spike stood and turned his back, his head lowering. Xander didn't notice the muscles in his back. He really didn't.
When Spike was quiet for a long moment, Xander frowned. "Hey. What's the deal?"
Spike shook himself slightly and turned around, his face set in careful lines. "Nothing," Spike lied. Xander could tell he was lying. Spike was a shitty liar once you knew him. "So what else do you remember?"
"Look," Xander began in offended frustration, "I'm telling you all about my crazy thoughts. Not to mention the fact that I watched you die, and I'd always thought that would be one of my top ten fun things, but in fact it really really sucked and I hope I never see it again. And I told you that you're probably the best friend I have. I think I deserve a little respect in return. Or am I the only one who thinks we're friends?" Xander crossed his arms over his chest, still not wearing a shirt, but not particularly caring at the moment, because he was pissed.
It looked like Spike was gritting his teeth. A little muscle twitched in his jaw, and his eyes were dark and angry as he stared at Xander. "Fine," he spat out. "I was a poet."
Huh? Not what I was expecting him to say, not in a million years. Xander frowned and asked, "You were a poet? When?" Here we are in bizarro world again. Doesn't it look familiar? I think maybe I'm just going to start living here full-time.
Spike lifted his chin slightly, obviously waiting for the mockery. "When I was human. Wrote all manner of horrid doggerel."
"Um ... doggerel? I'll assume that's a poetry thing? Probably nothing to do with dogs, right?"
Spike rolled his eyes and chuckled despite himself, which had been sort of what Xander was going for. It lessened the tension a bit. "It's shite poetry, Harris."
Xander nodded slowly. "So when you said whatever that was about the punk and the poet ... you were talking about you?"
Spike sighed. "Yeah, probably."
"Hmm."
"So I'd say it's unlikely you would have just imagined that. I probably actually said it."
"Anybody could have made up something about punks and poets. It's sort of alliterative, after all."
Spike shook his head, "But to imagine me saying it, and behaving strangely at the same time? No ... that doesn't seem likely, and I've never told anyone about the poetry before, so no one else would know to put that in your head."
Xander stopped dead and stared at him. "You've never told anyone?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Don't turn into a big girl and tell me how much that means to you, eh, Harris? 'Cause I had some blood recently and I'd rather not toss it on your shoes." Spike leaned over to pick up his knife, then sank gracefully into the chair again.
Fine. I won't say anything. But that doesn't change the fact that I feel sort of ... honored ... or something. It feels nice. Spike's my friend. He tells me secrets. Wow. A year or two ago, I never would have believed that would make me happy.
But Spike was all business. "What do you remember about these demon fellows?"
That certainly brought Xander's attention back to the matter at hand. "They were the same spiny demons from earlier tonight, but the little one had brought three new big ones with him, and they were massive. Really strong, too, apparently. The big guys beat you up pretty bad. The little one was the one who was after me, and he seemed like the boss of the others. He kept saying something about wanting to touch my jewels." Spike snorted in amusement. "Oh, ha ha, Spike. Let's see you laugh when a creepy demon with a knife is coming at you ranting about your jewels. It's not so funny then."
"I doubt they were after your precious stones, Harris. More likely there's an actual gem or two they're looking for. Sunnydale seems to have a lot of magical objects floating around, especially in these crypts. What exactly did he say about the jewels?"
"He said I'd touched them ... but I don't remember touching any jewels ... oh, he also said something about my heart and his hand. I didn't really understand it all."
"Not much information to go on. You couldn't have listened a bit closer, could you? This sort of stuff is a bit important, especially when it means my head getting torn off."
"Well, they were trying to kill me. I sort of had a lot on my mind. I don't really think very well during a fight."
"We've all seen the proof of that often enough."
"Shut up."
Spike was quiet, seeming to be thinking about something. Then he looked at Xander, but seemed distracted. "Some demons can cause distortions in time," he mused. "It's possible that's what these demons are doing, perhaps even unintentionally. Just by having contact with them, you might be getting caught up in some kind of time loop or something."
Xander frowned. He noticed he'd been doing that a lot during this conversation. "But then why aren't you seeing the looping, too? You had contact with them the same as I did."
Spike's answer was thoughtful. "I don't know. Maybe it's only the little one who has the time effect."
Without thinking, Xander continued, "That wouldn't explain the other ... uh..." he slowed down, realizing that he really did not want to discuss the other ... thing...
"Doesn't explain the other what?" asked Spike.
Xander looked around, saw his t-shirt, and picked it up, beginning to wring it out vigorously.
"Doesn't explain the other what?" repeated Spike, refusing to be ignored.
Staring at the wet t-shirt in his hands while he twisted it and sent water pouring to the floor, Xander muttered, "Other hallucinations." He glanced at Spike nervously, and saw him leaning forward curiously.
"What other hallucinations?"
Xander found himself heartily regretting ever starting this entire conversation and frantically tried to think of something to say which would allow him to deflect Spike's questions without actually telling the truth. How about vagueness? Would vagueness work?
"Okay, after I saw us both die, then I had this other ... hallucination ... before I ended up back in the cemetery talking to you again." Xander bit his lip. He hoped he wasn't blushing.
"What sort of hallucination? Were the demons involved?"
Xander concentrated harder on wringing out his shirt, though it had probably lost as much water as it was going to. It was still pretty wet, but wringing wasn't accomplishing anything anymore, except to give him something to do with his hands. Well, there was one demon involved, but not like you mean.
Xander just shook his head, his eyes looking everywhere but at Spike. "No. It was ... at my apartment. I was ... doing stuff there. And then all of a sudden I was back here again."
Spike's eyes had narrowed now, as if he sensed that Xander was hiding something. "You know I'm too stubborn to let it go, brat. May as well just tell me now."
Xander pulled his damp shirt over his head and pulled it down with some difficulty. It was all wrinkly and the wet cloth didn't want to slide easily over his skin, but he would really rather not be bare-chested for this conversation. "Well, I was here in the cemetery, with you, and then I had this weird vision where I was at my house, and then all of a sudden I was back here again, and then we got killed, and then I was back at my house again, and then I was here again, and now here we are." Xander realized he'd been babbling like a crazy person. Hmm. Maybe the insanity theory was still viable.
Spike took a deep breath and then spoke very very slowly. "What. Happened. At. Your. Apartment?"
Xander squirmed. At least, he thought he squirmed. He felt like he squirmed. He felt decidedly squirmy. Was this what Spike felt like when he was hounding him about the poet thing? Well, hell, Spike could step up to the plate ... so could he. Xander's voice was abrupt in the silence. "Sex."
Spike's eyebrows went up immediately. "Sex? So you had a little vision of both of us dying, then took a bit of a psychic break to get your end away before popping back here?"
Xander's voice was quiet now. "Sort of."
"Sex with who?"
Xander squeaked. He knew he squeaked. He couldn't help it. He squeaked, "What?"
"No, the question is 'who'. Although I suppose it could be a 'what', if you're into creatures of indeterminate gender." Spike was smirking uncontrollably now. The smirks were just all over the place, taunting Xander, making him want to flee.
"None of your business!" Xander replied, and he sounded about four years old, but he didn't care.
Spike nodded slowly, a calculating look in his eye. "Demon girl?" he guessed, watching Xander's face closely. "One of the witches?" Suddenly Spike's face became harder as he hissed, "The Nibblet?"
That one make Xander jump. "Jeez, Spike! No! I would never have sex with Dawn, not even in a hallucination! It would be like ... um ... incest! And pedophilia! Incestual pedophilia!"
Spike was still watching him appraisingly. Then he grinned. "Both the witches at once?"
And that one made Xander blush, because, okay, so he'd had a fantasy about that once or twice. But Spike seemed to think he'd hit upon his answer, because he relaxed and stopped staring at Xander so intently. He just lounged in the chair, grinning evilly.
Xander cleared his throat. "Shouldn't we be focusing on the demons who want to kill us? Because if this is some kind of 'time distortion' thing, and we showed up here again, then aren't they out there again, too?"
That wiped the grin off Spike's face. "Good point. But the time distortion idea doesn't really work well with this little three-way nooner you have going on between. Perhaps it isn't a simple time loop, but something more compicated."
Xander just listened, nodding as if he understood. It sounded a little bit like the time-looping in the movie Groundhog Day, except that the sex stuff in his apartment just didn't fit in at all. So maybe it wasn't a time loop at all. But what else could it be?
Spike suddenly shrugged. "If it's a time distortion, and the demons are doing it, then we just need to kill 'em and it'll go away." He smiled, pleased with the simplicity -- and violence -- of his solution.
"Just kill them," Xander repeated.
"Yep," replied Spike happily.
"Just kill the guys who dusted you and slit my throat. Just like that."
"Yep. Let's get ourselves some weapons." And with that, Spike bustled downstairs where he apparently kept his weapons chest. Xander stood without moving. Just kill them. Oh, yeah. I'm sure that'll be easy. He shuddered, remembering the feel of the knife against his throat, remembering the sight of Spike suddenly disappearing into dust.
Spike came back up with a couple of large axes. "These should do the trick. I already fought one of these guys earlier tonight, so I have a bit of a feel for how tough they are. I'm sure they just caught us by surprise."
Xander was nodding, but he wasn't nearly as confident as Spike. He took one of the axes and leaned it over his shoulder to balance the weight. While Spike was still busy putting on his duster, Xander walked toward the door and noticed the silence.
"Um, Spike? When did it stop raining?"
"Dunno. Why?" And then Spike was opening the door and stepping outside. As Xander stepped out after him, he saw Spike being set upon by three very large, muscular spiny demons, and a small demon stood only a few yards from the crypt door, watching Xander gleefully.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," Little Creepy Guy said. "And you shall lead me to it."
Oh fuck! They're here! They're here already! He noticed Spike swinging ferociously with his axe, surrounded by the three hulking spiny demons. I've never been much good at thinking when someone's trying to kill me, but Spike said it was important. So remember it! This guy said I was 'touched by the jewel' and that I would 'lead him to it.' Might be important. Remember!
The little demon reached out to grasp Xander's neck and pulled him from the crypt doorway, Xander's axe falling useless to the muddy ground. The demon turned him easily so that his arm wrapped across Xander's chest and kept him immobilized, facing away so that his throat was fully bared. Not far away, Xander could see Spike fighting desperately, one of the large demons apparently dead on the ground, one of the others clearly weakening. The third demon, though ... that one looked as strong as ever, but Spike was clearly hurt. Xander watched with growing horror.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," small demon guy said from behind him, speaking almost into Xander's ear. "And when I hold your heart beating in the palm of my hand, you shall lead me to the power I seek."
And then the knife was rising, shining silver in the moonlight, and Xander's thoughts were racing. I have to remember what he said! Memorize it! He wants to hold my heart beating in the palm of his hand. It'll lead him to the power he seeks. I have to remember. Spike told me. I have to remember. And then the knife was at his throat, touching him so very gently, and Xander saw Spike start to run toward him, saw him stopped by the remaining two demons, saw the stronger demon raise up Spike's own axe and swing, saw Spike's face staring at him suddenly turn to ash. Somewhere during that time, the knife had slid along Xander's throat, and he found himself thinking crazily, Is that Spike's knife? Or did these guys bring their own this time? and then his eyes closed.
{blink}
Xander opened his eyes to see a naked Spike standing very close to him, looking very pissed off. But he was alive. Or undead. Or whatever you wanted to call it. Xander was alive and Spike was un-dust, and that made Xander want to whoop aloud with happiness. But, of course, he couldn't, because he was back in the strange sex scene where he was only able to watch and feel. He couldn't actually change anything.
Hey! But I can change things in the other reality. So if it's really a time loop, which is looking pretty likely, then I can make things different! Maybe I'm like Sam on Quantum Leap, jumping around in time in order to 'set right what once went wrong'. Hey! That would make a lot of sense, since I saw us die! Maybe I'm going back in time to make that not happen, so that we both live! But ... uh ... what does that have to do with the butt sex?
Pissed-off Spike was now on the other side of the room, standing beside the bed. "Got any lube?" he asked abruptly, his face tense and angry. But Xander thought Spike's expression was a little bit like when he talked about being a poet. Like he was waiting for Xander to get in a cheap shot.
Xander heard himself say, "In the cabinet by the bed," and for the first time noticed that his voice was quiet and firm and sort of ... gentle. Maybe reassuring?
Don't I have enough to worry about with homicidal demons apparently fucking me up in time ... now I have to worry about me fucking up Spike's sensitive feelings, too? Not to mention the actual literal fucking. What the hell is going on around here? And how can I get back to my normal life? Where, admittedly, there has been very little fucking for quite a while now. But this is all too weird and I don't want to die again and I just want to go home. I hope this time around I can fix whatever's wrong and stop all the craziness. No more sex with Spike. 'Cause that's crazy.
And he and Spike must have said things to each other while Xander was busy thinking, because now he was walking across the room and he knew that in a moment he would be kissing Spike and in some very secret, private part of himself he admitted that ... well ... he actually wouldn't mind doing this part again.
Part 4: The Details.
Xander had decided that Spike was right. The only way to find out what was going on and how to fix it was to start paying attention to the details. Even here, in the bedroom, naked with Spike, he needed to try to figure out what was happening. There was no way he was going to discuss this particular stuff with Spike, but at least he could try to figure things out for himself. So he tried to notice details.
Like Spike's hair. As Xander walked across the room toward him, he noticed that Spike's hair was soft and fluffy. It looked like it didn't have any gel in it at all. Xander had never seen it so soft-looking. Sort of like a baby chick or something.
Heh. Spike looks all cute and fluffy. Well, except for that whole scowling thing he's got going on. Maybe a sort of evil baby chick.
When they began kissing, when Spike's tongue was exploring his mouth and his tongue was exploring Spike's, Xander distantly noticed that Spike's mouth tasted like Aquafresh.
What are the chances he uses the same toothpaste as me? Well, maybe he thinks striped toothpaste is cool, too. Because ... hey ... stripes! Neat!
And then Xander stopped noticing much of anything except Spike's tongue for a while. Though there did seem to be infinite things to notice about it. For example, it was wicked. Xander had never used that word honestly before -- he'd only used it in a joking way, like "I shall have my wicked way with you!" -- but Spike's tongue was definitely wicked. It made Xander want things. He couldn't even quite imagine all the things it made him want, but it made him want. Kissing Spike made Xander want to cling to him and do every secret thing he'd ever had a wet dream about, every private shameful thing he'd ever fantasized about in the shower or in the dark in his bed. Spike's kiss, Spike's tongue, Spike's lips ... they made Xander weak. And they made him feel ... wicked.
I've never felt wicked before. Well ... maybe when I was possessed by the hyena, but that doesn't really count, because it wasn't really me. I just ... I guess I'm not a wicked guy, as a rule. Now, Spike ... he's a wicked guy. Even now that he's not so evil, he's still got that sexy wicked thing going on. Not that I ever noticed that he was sexy. And I think I'm fine in the sex department, too. I just, I've had sex lots of times, but it wasn't wicked sex. I never felt like this ... like ... an animal ... desperate ... hungry. I want. I want and want and want. I want to pull Spike down on the ground and hold on tight to his hair so he can't move and then I want to bite his stomach muscles and just do very nasty things to him.
Okay ... wait ... maybe this whole 'noticing the details' thing would work better if I stick with the external stuff. Yeah. Good. Right. Ahem.
As Xander slid slowly down Spike's body, his fingers trailed curiously along Spike's chest and stomach, and he felt Spike's stomach tremble slightly at the touch. He tried not to think about what it would be like to test his teeth against those muscles. Instead, his nose close to Spike's skin, Xander noticed that Spike smelled faintly like Irish Spring.
Huh. What are the chances that he uses the same toothpaste as me and the same soap? I think we'll have to assume that Spike has showered here. Why? When? I mean, is this next year sometime, after I've had some kind of spontaneously gay life change ... and Spike has stopped overusing hair products? Or is this something that could happen, but needs to be prevented? Or ... oh my god ... is this something that needs to happen in order for the time loop thing to stop?
Sucking on Spike's cock was less traumatic each time. Xander found that knowing what was going to happen next made the whole experience less frightening and ... well, in all honesty, pretty interesting. And the fact that none of it had any lasting effects, since Spike never remembered any of it, eradicated any anxiety.
In fact, he found himself occasionally frustrated with his inability to control his own movements. While they'd been kissing, he'd wanted to slide his fingers into that fluffy yellow hair and hold Spike's head closer to him. While he had Spike's cock in his mouth, he wanted to repeat everything he did that made Spike gasp or shiver or suddenly clench his fists.
It wasn't like he would want to do any of this stuff in real life. But it was like a fantasy. You can do anything you want in a fantasy, and no one has to know. It doesn't mean anything. It's just in your head.
When Spike pushed him down onto his hands and knees on the fake Persian rug, Xander noticed a pile of clothes over by the door to the living room. And tossed off to one side was his gray t-shirt with the Babylon 5 logo on the front. The t-shirt he'd put on under his work shirt this morning. The t-shirt he'd been wearing when he was walking through the cemetery with Spike when they got killed.
Oh fuck! So this is the same day! Well, I do wear that t-shirt sometimes, so it isn't a guarantee, but it would be a pretty freaky coincidence otherwise. So ... this is the same day! But where does this fit in? We just swing by my apartment for a quicky before running back out to get hacked up by monsters? This makes no sense!
But now Spike was fucking him again. Fucking him and kissing him and Xander thought, My neck should really hurt, turning at this angle to look back at him, but it doesn't. Maybe that's because he's holding my head in his hand. Or maybe it's because nothing hurts much when everything else is feeling this good.
And then the hand on Xander's head pressed just a bit too hard, making the bump throb, and Xander winced and thought, Youch!
{blink}
"... worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though ... lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander stumbled -- that transition always seemed to leave him disoriented -- and found his erection (thankfully) wilting almost immediately at the realization that he was now back in the reality where he was likely to meet up with throat-slitting demons.
"Okay, fuck this!" spat Xander, his hands clenched in frustrated fists. "I am sick and tired of getting killed in this fucking place!"
Spike had stopped walking, his knife still held ready to continue tossing. He looked bemused at Xander's sudden outburst.
"And put that fucking knife away!" Xander insisted, rubbing his throat nervously. "It's freaking me out."
Spike raised an eyebrow and tucked the knife away somewhere inside his coat, watching Xander as if certain the boy had suddenly lost his senses.
"We need to get to the crypt right away," Xander said, looking nervously around the cemetery.
Spike asked gently, "My crypt?" His voice was slow and patient, as if he were speculating on the state of Xander's sanity. He sounded like he was talking to a rabid dog ... or maybe a sniper with a gun on the bell tower. Or maybe he'd just talked to Dru like this all the time.
Xander exhaled noisily. "No. Napoleon's crypt! Yes, your crypt, bloodbreath. It's the only place nearby where we can talk with at least a little bit of privacy."
"Oookay," Spike's voice was still smooth and soothing. "Why'd we be needing privacy, ducks?"
"I have to tell you a lot of stuff and we have to figure out what to do so we don't both get killed." Xander knew he was talking too fast, but being back in the cemetery and having everything be just the same as it was right before he'd died ... twice ... well ... it was a bit disconcerting, to say the least.
As they walked toward the crypt, Xander commented, "We'd better hurry before it starts raining."
Spike patted Xander's arm in an excruciatingly patronizing manner and assured him, "No chance of rain tonight, luv."
Xander rolled his eyes and just pulled on Spike's arm determinedly. "I don't like to be wet."
They were only a few yards from the crypt door when the rain starting pouring down. Spike stopped right where he was and stared in shock at Xander, the water drenching them both. After a moment, Spike seemed to remember himself and bolted through the door into the dry crypt with Xander right behind him.
Xander was standing a little ways inside the crypt, grumbling to himself. "I fucking hate being wet. And I fucking hate getting killed. And I hate this whole fucking thing and I just want a beer and a pizza and a hot shower and my nice warm bed."
At that, Xander pulled his soaked t-shirt over his head and began vigorously wringing it out. "Okay, we don't have much time. We have to figure out what to do."
Spike walked slowly past Xander, further into the crypt, and stood next to the armchair, his eyes watching the boy closely. "How'd you know it was going to rain, Harris?"
Xander exhaled in frustration again. "Because I'm stuck in some kind of fucking time loop and I've been here twice before. Why don't you go ahead and go downstairs to change into dry clothes, then bring me a blue towel and throw it at my face, eh?"
Spike frowned in confusion. But he nodded slightly -- he didn't like wet clothes any better than Xander did -- and went downstairs, trusting that the Scooby nutjob wouldn't run out on his own before Spike got back.
Xander continued to wring out his t-shirt until it seemed about as dry as it was going to get. He draped it across a wall sconce to let it air-dry a bit more before he had to put it back on, and then he threw himself down in Spike's chair, letting one of his legs dangle over the arm.
Huh. This is pretty comfortable, actually. No wonder he always sits like this.
When Spike emerged from the downstairs, he noticed Xander bare-chested in his chair and raised an eyebrow. He threw a towel at him, though it hit Xander in the chest instead of the face.
"Your aim's off this time, Spike," Xander ribbed him.
Spike smirked and ribbed back, "Must have been distracted by all your tasty manflesh on display."
Okay, that had Xander blushing, which had probably been Spike's intention, but for different reasons. He began vigorously drying his chest and hair, not meeting Spike's gaze.
Xander cleared his throat. "Back to the important stuff. We need to figure out how to not get killed and how to fix this time looping stuff. Any ideas?"
Spike leaned against a low windowsill lined with candles and asked, "What the bloody hell are you talking about? You haven't made a lick of sense since you started babbling about all this time stuff."
Xander took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down. Of course this Spike didn't know anything about the situation. So he explained. The little demon from earlier in the night. Its gigantic new friends. Them taking Spike's head off. Them slitting Xander's throat. The whole being dead problem. And then the whole thing starting again. He left out the sex. Didn't seem important. At all.
Spike's face didn't look promising. Xander could tell he didn't believe him, so he just kept talking. Maybe Spike would understand eventually. "The last time, you said that some demons can sort of mess with time. And maybe that's what was happening here, and if we killed the demons, then it would solve the problem."
Spike's eyes lit up then. "Dunno about all this time crap, but I'm all for killing stuff. Let's get some weapons." Spike started to head downstairs, but Xander stopped him.
"Last time, we took weapons, and we still got our asses kicked. Well ... I mean ... our heads ... sort of off. So I think we need to look at this more closely. They never attack before the rain starts or while the rain is still falling. At least, the past two times that's been true. They attack after the rain. The time when we left the crypt right when the rain stopped, the demons caught us almost at the entrance to the cemetery. But the time when we stayed here even after the rain stopped, they eventually came here to get us."
Spike was frowning in thought now. Xander didn't know if he believed about the time looping, but he was willing to plan a good attack.
"So," Spike mused, "we might be able to catch them unawares while it's still raining. If we can find them. What sorts of weapons are they using?"
And so they talked logistics for several minutes and eventually came up with a plan to take not only the axes from before but also some smaller knives. Spike stashed many of the weapons in pockets and through loops inside his coat, but he gave Xander two of the knives, as well, then gave him a cursory lesson in how to throw a knife in a fight, though the likelihood that such a brief introduction would be enough to really improve Xander's aim seemed slim.
"Oh!" Xander suddenly remembered just before they were going to leave the crypt into the still-pouring rain. "Last time, you told me to listen to what the demons were saying. The little guy said that I had touched the jewel and I would lead him to it. He also said that when he held my heart beating in his hand, I would lead him to the power he seeks."
Spike nodded pensively. "So he's after some kind of powerful artifact, and thinks you can take him to it. That explains why they're after you. They probably don't give a toss for me, then, except that I'm in their way."
Xander gulped, wondering if he should tell Spike to stay behind, so that they wouldn't both get killed, but he just wasn't that selfless. He knew he couldn't beat the demons by himself.
Spike had been watching Xander's face, and smiled slightly. Xander didn't know if Spike had been able to tell what he was thinking, but suddenly he was feeling the buddy vibe, so he smiled back. Spike came up, clapped an arm around Xander's shoulders, and said, "Let's go kick some demon ass."
Of course, it didn't end up being quite that easy. The fight took a bit longer this time, and Spike injured all three of the huge demons pretty badly. Xander actually had a chance to throw a knife, but it bounced harmlessly off the forehead of the small demon who was walking toward him. In fact, it only seemed to piss the little guy off. He grabbed Xander and turned him, just as he had the other times, so that Xander faced away from him, faced Spike battling the other demons.
The creepy little guy said all the same things as before, and Xander tried to memorize them even more clearly. He also tried to memorize everything he could about what the demons looked like -- yellow eyes, slit pupil, no nose, sharp teeth -- hoping desperately that some of this information might somehow help them next time. Because by this point he knew that this time around was probably a loss.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," the creepy demon murmured to him as the knife lifted so that Xander could see it shining silver in the moonlight. He once again found himself wondering crazily, Is that one of Spike's knives? Is he going to kill me with one of Spike's knives? Because Spike would be so pissed. "And when I hold your heart beating in the palm of my hand, you shall lead me to the power I seek." Xander once again repeated over and over and over again in his mind exactly what the demon had said. Spike had said it could be important, and he trusted Spike. How weird was that, that he trusted Spike? But he did. Even before all this happened. He trusted Spike.
Spike who was over there fighting three huge demons. For him. For Xander. Spike knew he might die, but he came anyway. Xander felt himself suffused with gratitude, remembering a million good things about Spike. His friend.
But those thoughts had all passed in the space of a moment, and the knife was now at Xander's throat, and Spike was racing toward him, vamping out, shouting something, but it all seemed unreal. The knife against Xander's neck was just a gentle touch, and its smooth travel across didn't seem very terrible at all. But now the wetness was flowing down Xander's chest -- he thought vaguely, This bastard ruined my Babylon 5 shirt -- and Spike was tearing at the demons who had caught him, he was raging at them with fists now -- they must have taken his weapons -- and it all seemed in slow motion as Spike looked over at Xander at the last moment, and his face was human again and his eyes were wide and seemed to glisten with tears -- though that could have been the moonlight -- and Xander didn't even see what happened ... his vision was getting dark and fuzzy ... but then Spike was gone and there were only demons and Xander felt like he just wanted to sleep, and there was a buzzing, sort of like the static on the tv late at night, and Xander was so very tired that he just closed his eyes.
{blink}
When he opened his eyes to Spike naked in front of him, looking decidedly pissed off, Xander wanted to throw his arms around him and sob. Sob because Spike wasn't dust. Sob because Xander wasn't dead. Sob because Spike had been a good friend to him and he'd never even thanked him and maybe now it was too late because they were both just going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. Sob because Spike had gone up against the demons with him, even when he didn't have to. Sob because Spike had come running to try to save him when the creepy demon had him, even though the big demons were right on his tail.
Basically, Xander just wanted to throw his arms around Spike and feel the realness of him, the solidness, the here-ness. He didn't care that they were both naked. Faced with being dead, being naked seemed pretty fucking unimportant.
For the first time, Xander understood a little bit of what Anya had meant about death making her want to do something about creating life. He still didn't want to make babies -- he still felt sorry that he couldn't be that for Anya, but it just wasn't what he wanted -- he still didn't want that, but he did want to be close to Spike, to sort of revel in their non-deadness.
So this time he didn't try to catalogue details. He didn't try to memorize information for future use in fixing the time loop problem. This time, he just let himself be glad that Spike and he were both alive, that they had the option to do this, that they could do things that felt good, that they could be close to each other, that it wasn't too late for them to say the things that Xander suddenly felt like he wanted to say. Not that he loved Spike, necessarily, but that he liked Spike, that he was grateful for everything Spike had done, that he was sorry for having been a prick sometimes, that he wanted Spike for his friend, that he was goddamn fucking TIRED of watching Spike get killed, because somewhere along the way, Spike had become someone who mattered. He might have seemed invisible, silently folded in on himself in all these months since Buffy died, but Xander had been right there with him, and they'd had that companionable silence that Xander thought meant they were in this together, that they understood each other somehow, and somehow Xander had ended up caring. He'd ended up not fucking wanting Spike to die!
So on the outside, Xander kissed Spike, sucked him off, got down on his knees for Spike's cock ... on the outside it all probably looked the same. But on the inside, Xander was wanting to grab on to Spike's body, push and pull and squeeze and grip him, make sure he was really there, he was really whole and okay and there.
He kissed Spike the same as before, but on the inside he was thinking, You were dead ... I saw you die ... you bastard ... I saw you die! I don't ever fucking want to see anything like that again. You are too fucking tough to die. His tongue was tangling with Spike's, their thrusts hard and hungry, but Xander was revelling in the taste and feel and sounds, not caring if this was a hallucination, not believing -- really -- that it was. It was like some kind of respite, some kind of reward for putting up with the hell of watching Spike die over and over again.
On some level, Xander knew he'd probably be embarrassed for this rush of emotion later, but right now it didn't matter. No one would ever know. And right now he needed this ... this drowning in the realness of Spike and of himself. He needed it to comfort himself. Because if he had another round of demon death coming up, then this was something to appreciate and hang onto as long as possible.
{blink}
Unfortunately, the next few times around were much the same. Xander developed a sort of brief summary to try to catch Spike up to speed each time. Spike was always dubious, but the prospect of killing demons always perked him up. Xander stuck to Spike's initial theory that the demons themselves were causing the time looping, and that they therefore needed to kill the demons to set everything right.
Unfortunately, killing the demons was turning out to be more difficult than it sounded.
They tried all different approaches: going after them in the rain, going after them before the rain, waiting in the crypt until long after the rain had let up, walking different routes through the cemetery, bringing various different combinations of weapons, pretty much everything they could think of. And each time, Xander had to tell Spike which options they'd already tried, before they could start brainstorming a new approach.
One time, Spike came up with an elaborate plan, full of camouflage and dodges and feints and fake-outs and surprise attacks. They'd both ended up just as dead as before.
Another time, Spike had come up with a plan that required Xander to throw knives, since he had gotten very slightly better at it after trying repeatedly. Spike gave him a bit more training in preparation. But that plan didn't work so well, either, since the little guy turned decidedly mean upon finding a knife protruding from his shoulder.
Around and around and around they went. And every time, Xander had the sex hallucination in between. And every time, the sex seemed less strange, less uncomfortable, less embarrassing. He sort of forgot that "gay" should be something to be ashamed of. He didn't really think anymore about the fact that this was sex with a guy. It was just ... Spike. And every time he saw Spike die, he felt just a little more happy to see Spike alive again. The whole "gay" thing just seemed ... stupid. Irrelevant.
Xander had lost count of how many times he'd seen them both die. Maybe a dozen? Maybe more? He was sitting in Spike's armchair with his head in his hands, thinking as hard as he could. They'd tried everything they could think of. They needed something completely different.
He leaned back and laid his head on the chair back, staring up at the cobwebby ceiling. He knew Spike was standing nearby, but they hadn't spoken for a few minutes now, both thinking. And then suddenly it hit him. Xander knew what they needed to do.
"Okay. Fuck trying to fight them," he said grimly. "That isn't working, and I'm really tired of getting my throat cut. It's time to pull out the big guns."
Spike's face lit up eagerly. "Flame throwers? I don't have one here, but I can get one..."
"No, not flame throwers," Xander interrupted, and then explained with one determined word: "Willow."
Part 5: Asking Questions.
Xander'd never really been in charge before. It felt weird. Before Buffy's death, she'd always been the one barking out orders. Or sometimes, especially back in high school, Giles would tell them all what to do. Even Willow, now that she was all big with the magic, would tell them where to stand and what to do in order for a spell to work.
But nobody ever listened to Xander. He was never the boss, except a little bit at work, where the higher bosses were always telling him what to tell other people to do.
So it was weird to be the person really in charge. Especially with Spike, because Spike just wasn't the sort of guy who liked to be told what to do.
But every time Xander looped back to the beginning again, he was the only one who remembered everything they'd talked about before. He was the only one who remembered their plans, their ideas, their mistakes. And so he was the one calling the shots. Xander was the head honcho. Yep. That's me. Xander In Charge.
So when he looped back the next time -- after yet another failed race through the cemetery, this time in an attempt to get to the Summers' house to find Willow -- Xander just touched on the high points.
Some sort of time distortion.
Evil spiny demon guys.
Killed us lots of times.
Something about a jewel.
Need to kill evil guys.
Need to get Willow to find out how.
Spike was always remarkably calm in the face of such unexpected information. He'd apparently had experience with time distortion in the past, though nothing as significant as what Xander was experiencing. So he mostly listened to what Xander told him to do. It was kind of a power rush.
So Xander once again filled Spike in on the plan. Run to the Summers' house. Try to dodge as much as possible, don't fight the demons unless necessary (since they had a disturbing tendency to win), just move move move as fast as you can.
Then Xander had another thought. "Hey! I'm the one the demons seem to be after, so how about you just run ahead to Willow's and find out how to kill the guys?"
Spike rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Because, you moron, you'll get killed while I'm gone. And when you loop back, you won't know what Willow told me, now will you?"
"Oh." Xander's face fell. "Right." Yeah, that's why Xander wasn't usually the boss. Because he was stupid. Nobody wants the stupid guy in charge.
But Spike was talking again. "But you may have a good idea, there. We don't have to stay together, necessarily. If we run into the demons and they cause us trouble, I'll just keep 'em busy and you run on to Red's."
Xander frowned deeply. "Spike, that wouldn't work. They'd just kill you again."
"Well, yeah," Spike deadpanned, looking at Xander as if he were excruciatingly slow. "But when you loop back you'll have the info and I'll be fresh as a daisy again, eh?"
Xander shook his head. "No way am I running off while you get killed."
Spike was looking frustrated now, that little crease appearing between his brows. "It'd work. Just do it."
Xander crossed his arms, his mouth a tight line of stubborn disapproval. "No."
After a bit of a staring contest, they begrudgingly came up with a plan for a new path through the cemetery, a planned route along Blake Street, and an obstacle course of fences and alleys to get them to the Summers' backyard.
They didn't really agree on whether Xander would run ahead if they met the demons. They just planned as if the demons wouldn't catch them.
So when they were ready, they took off running through the rain, heavily armed as always, and were doing pretty well until they hit Blake Street. Suddenly, Little Creepy Guy appeared with his three goons, and things started looking decidedly less pleasant. "I can feel the Jewel," Little Creepy Guy said, just like he always did.
And that was when Xander turned to Spike and hissed, "Get out of here! They won't follow you, and you won't get killed!"
But Spike hissed back, "Sod that! 'M not running away from a fight. Not leavin' you here against these blokes on your lonesome."
The goons began to lumber forward, just like they always did, and Xander hurriedly threw his knife, which hit one of them right in the middle of the forehead, sending him toppling to the ground like a giant tree.
"I did it!" Xander cried in gleeful shock, grinning, hopping a very undignified hop of Yay Me! celebration. "I did it!"
Spike gripped Xander's upper arm in a hold so tight that it would leave dark bruises, and pulled him closer. He hissed into Xander's ear, "You got rid of one of 'em, so now I've got only three to fight. I should be able to keep 'em busy on my own, so now's your time to bugger off. Get to Red, find out what you need to know." Xander was shaking his head, but Spike's hold on his arm tightened even further. The two remaining goons were getting nearer, and Spike growled in to Xander's ear, "Fuck off! NOW!" and then gave him an abrupt shove.
And so Xander turned and ran. He ran faster than he'd ever run before in his life. He ran as if homicidal, throat-slitting demons were on his tail, planning to kill him. He ran toward Willow, hoping against hope that she'd be able to help him figure out how to fix this whole mess. And while he ran, he imagined Spike behind him, surrounded by spiny demons, fighting alone because Xander had run off and left him. And after a while, Xander realized there were tears on his face, though he didn't know why.
When he felt a strong arm behind him pulling him off his feet, he tried to turn his head. It was Creepy Little Guy and one of his goons. This means Spike is dead, Xander thought to himself suddenly. If they caught up with me, then Spike is dead. He barely noticed the demon holding him tightly, one arm around the front of his chest, the knife sliding across his throat, the wetness pouring down. I left Spike behind, and Spike is dead, Xander thought as his eyes slowly closed.
{blink}
Sex with Spike. Before all this time distortion or time looping or whatever it was ... before all that started happening, Xander would have responded to the phrase "sex with Spike" with a shudder of revulsion and an exclamation along the lines of "I so do not need to hear about this!"
But now ... now ... it was different. He'd always thought -- not that he'd thought about it much, because eww -- that Spike would be really raunchy during sex, all rough and rude and blunt. And he was ... some of the time. But Xander was surprised how much he liked it. How much it turned him on. When Spike glared at him from across the room and demanded, "Come over here and suck me off," Xander felt like he could almost come just from that tone of voice, just from that ... that ... command. He could admit it here, since this was some kind of nowhere land inside the time loop ... he could admit that a part of him really wanted to know what it would be like for Spike to command him a lot more than that. Would it be as exciting as this bit was?
Because ... yeah. He wasn't really freaking out about the sex anymore. A part of him said he should be. A part of him kept saying, "You're not gay." But the rest of him had just slowly, gradually, inch by inch, bit by bit ... relaxed. Every time through, the whole thing seemed just a bit less scary, just a bit less strange, just a bit more normal.
He'd come to appreciate the skill with which Spike stroked his cock, giving him tingles everywhere. He'd come to know and appreciate every arch and curve and angle of Spike's body, every ripple of muscle, every flex and stretch. He'd come to eagerly anticipate getting to kiss Spike's mouth, feeling their tongues clashing, feeling their lips against each other, feeling their chests brushing oh-so-slightly.
And he'd come to enjoy the ... well ... the stuff with his butt. He still felt embarrassed about it, though, and didn't plan on telling anybody about any of this anytime soon, because he was pretty sure he would die from blushing too hard. But having Spike inside of him was ... intense. And kissing him at the same time was like ... it was like flying ... and falling ... and spinning ... or some combination of all those. He wished he could see Spike's face during those moments, wished he could have some idea of whether Spike was feeling the same things he was feeling. But they were always kissing, and Xander's eyes were always closed, and so he could only imagine.
And in his imagination, Spike's face was always just as awed and joyous and a little bit frightened as Xander felt inside.
{blink}
Back to the cemetery, and this time around, Xander was telling Spike about their failed attempt to get to Willow at the Summers' house when Spike suddenly interrupted him. "Why didn't we take the tunnels?" he asked impatiently.
Xander felt like he'd been hit on the head with an anvil, like in cartoons. Little yellow "Xander is stupid" birds were flying around his head. When he found his way back to what was currently presenting itself as reality, Xander mumbled, "I guess it was because I was making the plans."
Spike paced from one side of the crypt to the other, shaking his head and distractedly tossing his knife as he walked. "Well, that's what I get for listening to you, eh? Dead. That's what I get. Dead."
Xander paled and looked away. Spike was right, of course. All these times they'd gotten killed, it was because Xander had been the one making the plans. What sort of sick joke was this, that Xander was the only one who looped, so Xander was the only one with the information to make plans? It was cruel, is what it was. It was like making the kid from the Special Ed class do your geometry homework.
Spike was still muttering to himself. "Right. Got me all turned around with the time loop mumbo jumbo 'til I was daft enough to let Xander bloody Harris tell me what to do."
Xander thought that was a bit harsh. "Hey, I'm not that bad."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "How many times you get us killed thus far, mate?"
Xander winced hard enough that it was probably visible. He turned away and walked to the crypt door, looking out at the rain, trying not to cry, because wouldn't that just be even better? Cry in front of Spike, who already thought he was a pathetic loser, when Xander had thought they were sort of friends or something. Xander fought the irrational and childish urge to just run out in the rain and find the stupid demons and get himself killed again because it was all so meaningless.
But Spike had walked up behind him and his voice was near when he said reluctantly, "Look, I didn't mean that, all right?"
Xander didn't turn. "No, you're right." His voice was kind of choked. He hoped Spike didn't notice.
But Spike replied immediately, "No, I'm not right. I'm just being an obnoxious tosser, just like always. Takin' the piss. You're supposed to say something back, you know? Say maybe it was because your brain was fried by the blinding whiteness of my skinny torso when I took off my shirt."
Xander looked down, awash in self-loathing, and mumbled, "You're not that skinny."
Spike's voice sounded a little surprised and confused when he said, "Didn't think you noticed, Harris."
Xander stood there a long moment, trying to think of something jokey and snarky he could say to lighten the mood, but he just couldn't think of anything. Finally, he said quietly, very earnestly, "I'm sorry I got you killed..."
But Spike interrupted him, turning Xander around and grabbing his chin in one hand so that he could look Xander in the eyes. "Look, from what you say, we've been through this a lot of times now, yeah? You ever see me back down from the fight? You even once see me walk away?"
Xander slowly shook his head a bit in Spike's grip.
Spike nodded firmly. "That's right. That's because we go down fighting together." Xander began to interrupt, but Spike shook his head. "So we made a plan last time that split us up, but we were still both fighting. Ain't nobody getting anybody else killed unless you want to talk about them demon fellows." Spike seemed to calm down a bit and released Xander's chin. They both stood a bit straighter, still watching each other's eyes, as Spike said, "So maybe this time-loop business got us both a bit confused, not making the best plans for a bit, but we've got a clean shot at it now, yeah?"
And that made Xander smile with a bit of hope. Yeah, Spike was right. They had another chance right now, so it didn't matter if they'd messed things up -- if he'd messed things up -- before. Maybe there was a lesson in there somewhere, but he didn't have time to think about it right now. Right now they needed to pack up and head out and hope that the demons didn't know about the tunnels.
Spike seemed pretty confident that the tunnels would be safe. These spiny fellows were a bit too big, apparently, to make sewer tunnel travel comfortable. So Spike and Xander ran and scuttled and splashed their way to the sewer entrance less than a block from Buffy's ... er ... the Summers' house.
There was a bit of a nervous dash to the front door, with both of them watching expectantly for a spiny demon to suddenly appear, rambling about feeling jewels, but the next thing they knew they were inside the house and Xander was yelling his head off.
"Willow! Willow! Cast a protection spell or something! There are demons coming to kill us!" He and Spike warily inspected the downstairs of the house, wanting to make sure the bad guys hadn't preceeded them somehow.
Willow emerged at the top of the staircase looking decidedly dishevelled. "Xander?" she said quietly, frowning in confusion as she peered down at them. "And Spike? You're going to wake Tara and Dawn."
Xander ran forward, partway up the stairs, and explained quickly, "Some very bad, very spiny, very creepy demons are trying to kill us. Can you cast some kind of spell on the house to keep us safe here?"
Willow ran a hand through her messy hair and clutched her orange chenille bathrobe more tightly at her throat. "Xander, Tara and I keep a shield of protection around this house all the time now. Since ... since ... we want to keep Dawn safe. Nobody can come in without an invitation."
Xander glanced back down the stairs at Spike and they both heaved a sigh of relief, then grinned at each other. Spike asked Xander, "Is this the first time this happened?" and Xander nodded eagerly.
"We never got this close to figuring out what's going on before."
Willow cleared her throat, still looking rather grumpy and half-awake with the pillow creases on her face. "You mind telling me what the heck you guys are talking about?"
So Xander filled her in on all the details -- well, not all the details, since some details just really didn't need to be shared at this particular juncture in time, if ever -- and she trudged upstairs to wake up Tara and Dawn.
Yeah. All aboard the late-night emergency research party train. It was like a flashback to Xander's youth. But not an actual flashback, because there were quite enough of those going on these days, thank you very much.
The girls came downstairs dressed rather hurriedly, with shirts half-tucked and everything rumpled, their hair haphazardly combed, all rubbing their eyes and trying to look as if they were prepared to face imminent disaster and ward it off before immediately falling back asleep. Dawn, however, had a bit of an extra spring to her step which Xander easily identified -- based on his own youthful experiences -- as the Woo hoo! I get to be up really late! effect.
Willow pulled out dozens of Giles' old demon-identification guides, and they all ranged themselves around the living room and started looking for the spiny demons. After all, the first task, according to Willow, was to figure out what these demons were, so that they could have a better chance of figuring out why they were there, what they wanted, and how to kill them if necessary.
Xander and Spike had exchanged a look when she said that, then looked back at her, saying dryly in unison, "If necessary?" Then they'd looked at each other again and grinned. Yeah, they were gonna kill these things. They settled down with their extremely boring books to find out how.
The room was quiet except for the occasional turning of pages. Tara seemed to have a bit of a sniffle, though it was quiet and only sporadic. Xander found himself nodding off over the musty pages in his lap, and so stood and stretched. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
"What? Oh ... right ... sorry. I've just ... it's been a really long night and I'm bushed. I'm gonna go get some fresh air to help sharpen the old frontal lobes. But I'll be right back for more of the researchy goodness."
Everyone just sleepily nodded and went back to their demon-hunting, except Spike. "I'm gonna go have a smoke," he said, standing, "and make sure donut-boy doesn't fall asleep on the lawn."
Hearing Spike's comment as he walked away, Xander rolled his eyes, then stretched his head from one side to the other. It really had been a long night. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd gone through this whole thing since he got off work today. How many hours had it been since he'd slept? Did time looping hours still count as hours he hadn't slept?
As he approached the back door, he turned toward Spike and asked, "You think the back porch is covered by the protection spell?"
Spike shrugged carelessly. "We'll leave the door open. If any of the nasties show up, you can just duck inside."
Xander nodded tiredly -- too tired to even object to Spike's use of "you" instead of "we" -- and went out onto the porch, sitting on the top step and leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. It wasn't really the spell that made him feel safe out here. How crazy was it that, even after all these times they'd gotten killed, Spike made him feel safe?
Spike sat down beside him and lit up a cigarette.
Xander looked out at the darkness, his eyes feeling sore and dry, like he'd been awake far too long. "So, Spike," he began, still looking straight ahead, "how many times you figure you've saved my life?" He turned to look at Spike then.
His cigarette poised half-way to his mouth, his lips parted slightly in surprise, Spike seemed momentarily frozen. But then he was moving again, lifting his cigarette to his lips, drawing on it, exhaling a gray plume of smoke slowly into the darkness.
"Thought all this round and round was about me not saving your ass," Spike said.
Xander thought of all those times, of Spike fighting to save him, of Spike's face when he knew that he hadn't been able to save Xander. He cleared his throat. "I mean before this," Xander explained. "How many times have you killed some demon that was about to shishkebab me, while I was just laying there on the ground rubbing a bump on my head?"
Xander looked over at Spike again and saw that he was frowning. He looked a bit disgruntled, like he was feeling like he should say something he didn't want to. After a pause, Spike griped, "You're not always entirely useless. And you wouldn't be out on patrol if it weren't for me, anyway."
Xander's eyebrows went way up on that one. "Whoa! Back up there, buddy! Because I am not out on patrol because of you. I'm out on patrol because of Buffy, same as you are."
There was a long silence. He'd used her name, and they weren't supposed to do that. Spike was very still, as if frozen in place. So was Xander. They were like two statues in the backyard that was once Buffy's, still there even long after she was gone. Neither of them said anything, but there was a slight wind in the trees. It only seemed to make it more obvious that they weren't talking.
When Xander couldn't bear the silence anymore, he risked it. He asked quietly, "If you could bring her back, would you?"
Spike threw his cigarette out into the lawn, a small orange light arcing through the dark. "Nah." Spike's voice sounded a little weird, like he was being strangled, but Xander thought he sort of understood. This was tough stuff to talk about, for both of them. Even just mentioning her name was like a shock. "If there's a heaven," Spike continued in that choked voice, "then I figure little blond girls who save the world are probably first in line to go there. She paid her dues in full."
Xander watched Spike's face, which seemed more peaceful than he would have expected. "And you're okay with that?"
Spike looked down at his hands, weaving his fingers together between his knees. His voice sounded even more strained when he replied, "You know as well as I do that she never would've loved me. She told me often enough. Hell, you told me often enough." Xander winced and opened his mouth to say something, apologize somehow for past unkindnesses, but Spike was still talking. "Nah. It's time for me to move on. Figure out what to do next. That one's had me stumped these past few months. Not quite sure what I'm about now."
Spike cleared his throat and shook himself slightly, then looked over at Xander with a hint of a smile. "How 'bout you? You ever wish your demon would come running back?"
Xander smiled sadly. "No, that's over."
"What happened there?"
"With Anya?" Xander sighed heavily and shook his head, looking down at his hands, picking at a callus at the base of his thumb. He glanced hesitantly over at Spike, not wanting to bring up those painful memories again, memories they'd never actually discussed in any detail, memories they had danced around and avoided at all costs before tonight. "I don't think..."
"Just spit it out, whelp. I know it was right after ... I won't go bat-shit just because you mention her name again."
Her. Not Anya, of course. Her.
Nodding hesitantly, Xander went back to rubbing at his callused thumb. It was nice and distracting.
"It was right after..." Xander cleared his throat. Why was this so hard? Was it only because they'd waited so long to talk about all of it? His voice was a bit stronger when he started again. "It was right after Buffy died." But he couldn't help the catch in his voice, and he couldn't help noticing the utter stillness of the man at his side. Xander stretched his neck to one side and then to the other, trying to ease the tension. "After Buffy ... and, you know, Anya was pretty badly hurt ... and with everybody injured and hurting ... well ... Anya ... I guess she was feeling scared ... and she wanted ... she said she wanted to 'create life'."
Spike's head jerked back slightly with obvious surprise. Turning to look at Xander's partially averted face, Spike repeated with a slight smile, "Create life?"
Xander rolled his eyes, waiting for the mockery. "Yeah, yeah. I think she used the word 'spawn', too. It was all very romantic."
Spike was grinning now. "So the bint decided she wanted to start squeezing out puppies and you made a runner, eh?"
"What?" Xander exclaimed, offended. "What are you talking about? I didn't make a runner! No runners were made! Or, hey, if anyone was making runners, it was Anya!"
Spike just cocked an eyebrow in a wordless expectation of more.
Xander sighed again and looked at Spike out of the corners of his eyes, then down at the step beneath his feet. He'd forgotten about the callus on his thumb now, and his hands lay still between his knees. "I said no," he explained quietly, and there was still some sadness there as he said it. "I thought I was okay with getting married, but there's no way I'm ready to be a dad right now, especially with the example I had to learn from. So Anya decided to find a more willing sperm donor."
A slight frown wrinkled Spike's forehead between his brows. "So, you weren't willing to knock her up, so she took off in search of anybody willing to fuck her 'til she plumped?"
Xander winced. "Nice imagery there, Spike. Thanks ever so." But it didn't bother him, not really. Anya had done what she needed to do, and he missed her, but he was fine with it. It was the right thing for both of them.
He'd never really talked this openly with Spike before. There'd been the companionable silence, but there hadn't been the talking. Xander wondered if maybe it was because of the sex stuff he kept seeing when he looped. He would have expected something like that to make him feel disgusted or at least embarrassed, but he'd just gradually started feeling ... calm. He'd felt glad to hold Spike, to put that look in his eyes. He'd felt close, and it had felt really really good. So it didn't feel strange to talk to him about Anya. It felt ... right.
Spike was looking out into the dark backyard again, his eyes serious. Xander looked away, looked out at the yard, because Spike's face seemed too vulnerable just then, though he wasn't sure why. And then Spike spoke. "At least she loved you, mate. You had that. Mightn't have been forever, but you..." Spike paused, cleared his throat, then went on, "I was with Dru a hundred years, more, but she never loved me. Angelus had broken her so she didn't know how to love anymore."
Xander tilted his head and looked over at Spike, then quickly look away again, because Spike's eyes were shining and he was sure Spike wouldn't want him to see that. Xander asked gently, "What about when you were alive? When you were a poet?"
The sudden complete stillness next to him made Xander grimace slightly. He'd thought Spike was still before, but that was nothing compared to this. This was the stillness of the small animal hiding from a predator. This stillness had a faint air of desperate fear. Oh, shit. I hadn't told him I knew that.
Xander glanced over at Spike with an apologetic look on his face. "You told me, one of the other times we looped around."
Spike raised an eyebrow, obviously trying to look casual. "Can't imagine a situation in which I'd do that, but it's obviously true. Nobody to tell you 'bout it, since nobody knows."
Xander nodded quickly, "Exactly. You told me that, too."
Spike leaned forward, his forearms pressing into his thighs as he stared out into the dark. He rubbed his hands over his face then looked out at the darkness again. "I guess this time loop crap really is true, eh?"
Xander pulled a face. "Afraid so."
Spike turned his face away. "Wasn't full certain, but figured I'd go along because what the hell. Time distortion. Well, bugger me. Pain in the ass, that is."
Xander nodded emphatically. "I'd have to say a big YES to that one."
They were quite another moment before Spike asked in a voice that was probably intended to still sound casual, "So, what'd I tell you about Cecily?"
Xander frowned in confusion, "Cecily?"
Spike glanced back, then away again. "Yeah. Posh bint I fell in love with, wrote poetry for. Thought I had a chance, poor sod. Never had a chance." Spike's voice got quieter as he continued, "Never did, not with her, not ever." By the end, Xander could barely even hear him. Then, after a long silent moment, Spike sat up straighter and brushed his hands against his denim-clad knees. "Fuck that!" he blustered. "I don't need that crap. Give me something to kill and I'm set."
Xander was watching him now, trying to read Spike's face. Was this where so much of that Big Bad attitude came from? Was he trying to prove that he didn't need people to care about him? And was that why he'd been so quiet these past few months? Because he couldn't pretend anymore? Because it got to just be too much?
Xander thought of Spike, naked, blustering and acting all tough, with his eyes all confused and frightened. He thought of Spike always acting like he didn't need this, when he did ... he obviously did ... just like Xander did.
Lost in his thoughts, in his confused memories, Xander reached out a hand to touch Spike's hair, causing the other man to startle. He turned to look at Xander, and Xander realized they were actually sitting pretty close. He wouldn't have to lean very far...
Spike was watching him with obvious confusion and a bit of suspicion as well. That same look in his eyes in all Xander's confused time-looping naked memories.
Then Xander leaned forward that tiny bit, and then his lips were on Spike's. Spike's lips were soft and surprised, not fighting Xander, but not really cooperating, either. Xander kissed those lips gently, trying to communicate everything he'd felt during those times when they'd had sex, and he thought maybe Spike was just beginning to kiss him back when suddenly ... out of nowhere ... he heard a throat clear behind them.
Xander pulled away and turned guiltily to see Willow standing silhouetted in the bright kitchen doorway. Even in shadow, her face looked curious and concerned and Xander knew they'd be having a really uncomfortable conversation sometime soon.
But Willow didn't ask any questions. She just held up a fairly ragged book in her right hand and said, "I think I found your demons."
Part 6: That Would Be Telling.
"They're called Jnok!'ha demons," Willow explained, yawning immediately afterward and then blushing and murmuring, "Sorry."
Xander peered at the grainy drawing and verified that those looked like the guys, complete with spines, slit pupils, sharp teeth, and noselessness. The drawing was black-and-white, so he couldn't see if their eyes were yellow, but it seemed like a good bet. Dawn seemed to find the lack of noses particularly gross. "How do they breathe?" she asked. "With their mouths open all the time, like big pointy goldfish? Ookie."
Spike was sitting as far as possible from Xander, leaning over at an awkward angle to investigate the drawing curiously. Right. This Spike, this loop's Spike, hasn't actually seen the demons yet. He's been kissed by me, though, and avoided eye contact ever since. Way to go, Xan Man!
Spike looked up at Willow and asked calmly, "So how do we kill it, then?" and Xander grinned. He couldn't help it. Yeah, a vampire after his own heart.
Except ... not in a vampiry tear-your-heart-out sort of way. And not in a Valentine's Day hearts-and-flowers sort of way, either. Just ... I mean ... in a "let's go slaughter those spiny demons who keep killing us" sort of way. A manly demon-killing sort of way. Not a hugs and cuddles sort of way. Even if he does have fluffy hair sometimes and it's kind of cute. Even if I did kiss him and freak him out.
Xander rubbed his forehead in confused frustration. He'd been missing part of the conversation, obviously, because Willow and Spike were arguing something about the demons. Tara was nodding off in a chair in the corner, her nose a bit red. Xander wondered if she was coming down with a cold, and then felt guilty for dragging her out of bed. Dawn, on the other hand, was bouncing lightly on a couch cushion. When she caught Xander's eye, she grinned. "Can I go with you?" she asked eagerly. But Xander shook his head.
"These things are bad news, Dawnie. They killed Spike and me a lot of times. We're gonna get 'em this time, but I don't want you out there getting hurt. Maybe next time, okay?" He smiled slightly.
"The next time some demons are killing you, I get to come, too?" Dawn's grin was even wider now. Had she been drinking coffee with the rest of them? Because she looked about ready to go into orbit.
Xander gave her a look. He hoped it was kind of coolly sardonic like Spike when he raised one eyebrow. Then he told her, "It would depend on whether you were there to help or not."
Dawn smirked. "Help who? You or them?"
Xander rolled his eyes.
Then Spike abruptly stood up. "You ready to go kill something?" He glanced over at Xander expectantly, but still did not make eye contact.
"These particular somethings?" Xander asked eagerly. "That would be a big YES. As in right now, please. As in can I kill them even deader than usual? Because I am so sick of having my throat cut." And watching you get dusted. "You know, the first twenty times weren't so bad," he quipped, "but it got really old after a while."
Spike was hefting a sword now and once again shoving knives into various loops and pockets inside his coat. Xander armed himself as well as he could, but he didn't have the nifty weapon accessorizing ability that Spike apparently possessed, so he was seriously outclassed. Still, he did manage to grab a couple of nasty-looking knives.
Xander glanced around. "So how do we kill 'em?"
Spike looked at a spot somewhere over Xander's right shoulder and growled in frustration. "Weren't you listening?"
Xander sighed. "Why do you ask questions when you already know the answer?" And how badly exactly had he fucked things up out on the back steps?
The girls seemed to be watching them with some interest. Xander wondered if he was acting different than usual. Even with the post-kiss weirdness, he definitely felt more comfortable with Spike now than he had before the night that wouldn't end. He'd always felt like Spike was smooth and graceful, but Xander had always felt like a big clumsy lump next to him. Now ... now he felt like he was on more equal footing. He felt like he knew how to move with Spike, whether it was in a physical fight or an argument. Or ... on my bedroom rug. He felt like he knew Spike now.
Willow piped up again, as if wanting to inject a bit of non-testosterone logic into the conversation. "You can puncture their brain somehow" -- Xander grinned, remembering the knife he'd thrown smack-dab into the demon's forehead Go me! -- "or you get alcohol into their blood stream," she finished. She was looking a bit cranky, which Xander thought might just be the lack of sleep ... or maybe she and Spike had been fighting about something that ticked her off.
Reflecting on what she had just said, Xander asked sarcastically, "So, what? We take 'em to The Bronze and get 'em wasted? Because I'm thinking these guys might not really be much for the club scene."
Spike held up a pretty scary-looking knife and rubbed it with a cloth. Then he poured something from his flask onto the cloth, then rubbed the knife again. He raised an eyebrow.
"Oh," Xander nodded slowly. "Cut them and get alcohol in their blood. Gotcha. Okay, let's go!"
He and Spike were already opening the front door when Willow fretted behind them, "Xander, I really want to do some research on this jewel stuff before you..."
But Xander couldn't wait to watch these demon guys die. The tension between him and Spike was making him even more antsy, and he just wanted to get out there and kill something. He finally understood why Spike had said that so many times. He finally knew what it felt like.
"We'll talk about it after, Will. Right now, gotta motor. We're a couple of well-armed men on a murderous mission." He didn't look back, but he was willing to bet she had resolve face and wasn't very happy.
But he and Spike really were on a mission. They walked down the street like old fighting compadres. It felt good. He occasionally caught Spike casting a discreet glance his way, but Xander just rubbed whiskey on his knives and smiled grimly in anticipation. He had never met a demon that deserved to die more than these ones did. Nobody killed Xander Harris twenty times in one night and got away with it!
The fight, when it came, was almost anti-climactic. They met up with the demons in the Shady Rest Cemetery, and the smaller demon recited his now extremely familiar mantra of "I feel the Jewel." But this time, Xander strode right up to the creepy little jerk and slashed his whiskey-smeared knife across the wide-eyed demon's throat, surprising him so thoroughly that he didn't even swipe at Xander while he thrashed.
The actual knife cut didn't seem to bother the demon much, but the alcohol was causing some kind of rapid chemical reaction. Green bubbles were foaming up from the wound, causing the demon to look down in horror. Xander stood there and watched the demon's face as it became more and more afraid.
Yeah. Welcome to my world, asshole. Welcome to my fucking nightmare. Now die. At least you only have to do it once.
Xander breathed deeply and watched. Until now, until he finally got to end it, he hadn't realized how scared he'd been, how horrible the night had been, dying over and over again, watching Spike die over and over again ... Wait ... Spike?
Xander turned and saw Spike standing off to one side. Three hulking spiny demon corpses lay around him, all of them foaming from wounds here and there. But Spike just stood there and silently watched Xander with a look on his face Xander wasn't sure he'd ever seen before. It looked like it might be respect. Or maybe Xander just had something on his face.
When the smaller demon collapsed to the ground and lay still, Spike hopped up to sit on a large square granite gravestone. He lit up a cigarette and surveyed the spiny corpses in the moonlight. He nodded in approval and smiled slightly.
Xander realized suddenly how tired he was -- god, what a night! -- and staggered over to another gravestone, far enough away from the dead demons that he could see them without feeling like he was actually sitting among their foamy corpses. He leaned a hand against the cold stone and then slowly sank to his butt, scooting to sit with his back against the granite. He looked over at Spike, who was all silvered by the moon. Xander thought he looked gorgeous like that, and the thought frightened him. It was all the sexy butt hallucinations' fault! They made him lust after Spike! Except he knew it wasn't just lust. He liked Spike, too. Fuck.
Heaving a heavy sigh, Xander decided to do the brave thing. But he couldn't look at Spike while he did it. "Hey, Spike, about earlier ... back at the house ... on the steps ... when I ..."
Spike took a deep drag off his cigarette and exhaled slowly, looking out at the cemetery, away from Xander. "Right. What was all that about?"
Xander sighed again. What was he supposed to say that wouldn't freak Spike out even worse? "Well," Xander began, "see..." and Xander leaned his head back to rest on the gravestone behind him. Except he was so tired that he let his head fall back a bit too quickly and the stone collided with his head bump in a painful jolt that made him wince and grumble, "Ouch!"
{blink}
And helloooo, naked Spike. Fancy meeting you here ... in my bedroom ... where you've never been ... except in bizarro world. And, why yes, you do still look pissed off at me. Not all that different than you did a minute ago in the cemetery actually. But I'm gonna take a wild stab in the dark and guess that this time you're actually going to want me to put my manly lips on your pale yet supple flesh. Am I right? Oh, wait, I forgot. Well, I didn't really forget, but go with me here. I'm being sarcastic. Or ironic. Or ... damn, I can never remember the difference between those. And you were a poet, so you probably know. You're probably laughing at me behind that sullen exterior. Yeah, I'll bet you are. Making fun of me. Evil kiss-avoiding, fun-making jerk. Wait. What was I saying? Oh, right. You can't hear me at all. Because I'm not fucking here! I'm ... well ... I'm not here, but still fucking. How weird is that?
You want me to get down on my manly knees and suck you off? Sure, Spike, old buddy. Why not. I've got some time free. Can't imagine I'll be going anywhere for the next several minutes. You mind telling me why you seem so ticked at me, though? I mean, I could understand it before. I sort of freaked out and kissed you when we weren't in bizarro land. Broke the rules, right? At least you didn't punch me or something.
But why're you still being such a pain in the ass -- er, no pun intended -- when you're all naked and sticking your dick into various lubricated orifices of my body? Doesn't that warrant a little smile? A bit of cheerful good spirits? A spring in your step and an evil song in your heart? Your dick sure seems happy enough. So what's with the long face, Mr. Mopey Pants? Or should that be Mr. Mopey Pantsless?
Well, hell. At least in this reality you want my bod -- with those impressive pecs you noticed back at the crypt that one time. Yeah, I remembered that. I'm pathetic. But in the other reality, I kiss you and you become Mr. Avoidy. I think I prefer Mr. Mopey Pantsless. You're an enigma, but a naked enigma with its hand on my dick. And, hey, that makes up for a lot of flaws.
{blink}
"... worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though ... lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander didn't really trip or stumble anymore when he wound up at the beginning of the loop in the cemetery. He'd gotten disturbingly used to the whole thing, and so now he mostly just gave a sort of surprised twist of the hips. A little jerk of "okay, and now there is suddenly nothing in my ass anymore" adjustment. He always felt a little strange in his pants -- both fore and aft -- for a few moments after the loop, but hey. It was nothing he hadn't done a million times before, right? There were probably dimensions and universes where a guy could get used to this. Xander, on the other hand, was getting really really really really ... tired. He just wanted everything to be fixed. He didn't want to be taunted by sexy Spike anymore if he didn't get to keep him.
Spike had stopped walking and caught his knife in mid-air, as always. He looked back at Xander expectantly, and Xander geared himself up to give the whole spiel again. He closed his eyes and sighed. Fuck it. I'll kill two friends with one stone. Or ... wait ... that sounded bad. I'll tell him and Willow at the same time.
"We need to take the tunnels over to Willow's house. Come on. We've gotta hurry." Xander knew he sounded tired, and maybe a little crazy, but he didn't care anymore. He just started walking toward the tunnel entrance.
Spike hesitated a long moment, obviously puzzled, but then followed Xander's retreating form. He probably figured he'd better stick close to Xander or "the whelp" might get himself killed. Little did he know.
When they got to the house, Xander didn't yell or do anything to wake everyone up. He let himself into the house, secure in the knowledge that it was protected by Willow and Tara's spell, and ushered an increasingly curious Spike in behind him. Spike quite casually began rummaging through the refrigerator, leaving Xander free to tiptoe up the stairs. He knocked very quietly at Willow's door and then motioned her out when she peeked out through the crack.
When they got downstairs to the living room, Xander explained quietly, "I didn't want to wake Tara up, since she seems like she's getting a cold."
Willow tilted her very lopside-haired head to the side -- which made her wacky bedhair almost symmetrical -- and seemed suddenly far more alert. "How did you know that, Xander? Did you talk to her today? Because she didn't say anything..."
Xander sighed. "It's a really long story. You might want to make some coffee or something." He thought a minute. "But for god's sake don't give any to Dawn." He rubbed his forehead again. It was getting to be a habit. A habit grown out of dying a gazillion times in a row and not getting any sleep and watching vampires for whom he did not previously have strange feelings get dusted repeatedly and ... well ... and all kinds of crappy stuff, and therefore not a long-term habit, if Xander had any say in the matter.
Willow shot him a funny glance and then shuffled off in her orange chenille bathrobe. Xander heard her and Spike speak in low tones in the kitchen, probably commisserating over having an insane friend.
When they came back in with three cups of coffee, Xander told them the whole story. Anytime one of them seemed skeptical, he'd pull out some bit of time-loop knowledge. He pointed out when it was going to start raining, not long after they'd arrived. He demonstrated his improved knife-throwing abilities (which resulted in a tight-lipped Willow regarding the unfortunate section of living room wall and reminding him of his excellent spackling abilities). He talked about Tara having a red nose and a case of the sniffles, and he told Spike very discreetly that he knew "about Cecily," which made Spike go even more pale than usual. He narrowed his eyes and watched Xander considerably more closely after that.
Then Xander told them about the Jnok!'ha demons and the killings of him and Spike, and how to kill the demons in return. He also told them that killing the demons had not, as Spike had originally speculated, stopped the time-looping. So something else was causing the time-looping, and Xander was figuring it had something to do with the weird bump on the back of his head, since so many of his loops or shifts or whatevers seemed to begin or end with his head hurting.
As Xander began to wind down his babbling extravaganza, Willow walked behind him and inspected the bump closely. She rested her hand very gently against it, not pressing at all. And, after a moment, she admitted that she could sense a very slight aura of magic radiating from the area.
"Magic? In my head? Get it out! Get it out!" Xander was sort of exaggerating to lighten the mood, but mostly not.
But Willow just kept asking him questions, and they got to talking about the demons who kept talking about the jewel, and Willow said that their next research project should be identifying this jewel, since it seemed likely to have something to do with the time troubles.
So a couple hours later saw the three of them scattered around the living room, searching a bunch of dusty books for any reference to a "jewel" that could be "felt" and which might want someone to have a "heart beating in the palm of his hand" to "lead him to it," with an option on mysterious painful head bumps. It wasn't a lot of information and it wasn't very specific, but it was all they had. Xander was glad that he had at least memorized what the demon had said, thanks to Spike's prompting. He glanced over at Spike, who was sprawled in the armchair nearest the kitchen. Probably planning to raid the fridge again. He looked very serious, reading intently. But then he looked up, right into Xander's eyes.
"Problem, Harris?" he asked abruptly. Xander shook his head, blushing, and immediately looked down at his own book. During research time, there shall be no thinking of anything involving bizarro world! Bad Xander!
And then he suddenly felt a rapidly growing sense of disquiet. Damn. What if the stuff -- the very very private stuff -- that Xander wasn't telling them was important, somehow? What if it was the key to solving the whole thing? Xander felt like he was probably turning green. Just thinking about it, he felt like he might throw up ... though that could just be the effects of four cups of coffee. But the idea of telling Spike...
Wait. Willow was the wily wicca. No need for Spike to know. Xander cleared his throat. "Hey, Will? Could I talk to you about some ... uh ... sort of private stuff?" Spike looked suspicious, probably wondering why he was being excluded. "It might be important," Xander explained quickly, "but it's ... um ... kind of embarrassing." He could feel his face on fire. He wondered if there were actual flames.
Spike rose from the chair with that incredible physical grace he had and lifted his chin slightly in a motion Xander had started to interpret as defensiveness or hurt or something like that. "I'll go have a nice long smoke, then, won't I?" He was wearing an expression that Xander recognized now, an expression he remembered from a lot of times before this night-that-wouldn't-end. It was Spike getting invisible. Pulling inside himself. Going silent and ... well ... invisible. Xander had noticed the phenomenon these past few months, sort of, but he'd never realized that Spike did it on purpose. He suddenly wanted to call Spike back and apologize, but Spike was already gone and Xander didn't really want to say this stuff in front of him, anyway. The whole situation sucked.
So Xander sat across from Willow in the Summers' living room and finally told the whole truth. He explained about how the sex-with-Spike thing always appeared sort of right at the middle of the time looping somehow. He didn't give a lot of sex details, because that was so not necessary and Willow was already looking wide-eyed and pink. It was weird, because the sex stuff had gotten to the point where it seemed completely comfortable when it was happening, it didn't freak him out anymore at all, but talking about it was horrible. It was like some secret world where normal rules didn't apply, and talking about it in the normal world was just ... way wrong.
He also told her about the kiss on the back steps. Once he started confessing, it just all seemed to come out.
When he was done, Willow was quiet for a long time. "So, do you really want to ... you know," she made a sort of cute embarrassed face with her eyebrows and shoulders subtly wiggling, "with Spike?"
Xander glanced nervously toward the back door. Still no Spike. Good. "I don't know, Will. It kind of seems like not the important thing right now, you know? Maybe I'll worry about it if I ever stop repeating the same day over and over again like that episode of 'Xena'."
"Xena?" Willow looked amused now.
"What? You don't watch 'Xena'? I thought it was a rule. All lesbians must watch 'Xena'."
"So what are you doing watching it?" she teased.
"I have one word for you, old pal o' mine. And that word is 'breasts'." It was nice to be back on comfortable footing. Yeah. Nothing strange here. Good old heterosexual Xander.
Willow frowned slightly, making that little wrinkly thing over her nose. Then she looked at him and said apologetically, "I don't know what the sex stuff means, Xander. Maybe it's some kind of hiccup in the time loop or something. Maybe it's something that's going to happen a long time from now?"
Xander shook his head slowly. "I don't think so." He plucked at the gray cloth on his chest and said, "This t-shirt was on the floor. That seems like a really big coincidence."
Willow glanced over toward the kitchen and the back door, then leaned toward Xander and whispered, "Maybe it's something that's going to happen today. On one of the loops."
Xander blushed again. "That seems really unlikely. Spike wouldn't even look at me after I kissed him. The chances of him ... of ... that just seems ... I don't think so."
Willow looked at him for a while, long enough to make him start feeling self-conscious, and then she suggested hesitantly. "Maybe it keeps happening so you'll think about whether this is what you want. Because ... I've gotta say ... the way you talk about it? You kinda sound like you want this."
Xander picked at that blister on his thumb again. Ah, sweet blister, source of distraction in the face of awkward situations! He deftly dodged, "I had a thought. You know, this keeps happening over and over, and the loop is happening, too. What if I keep seeing this because it's something I need to do in order to stop the loop? What if it's the solution? Like I have to have sex with Spike or it'll never stop."
Willow frowned like he was talking Romanian. Except she probably knew Romanian, being the brainy gal and all. Oh, but she was talking. "That doesn't seem very logical, from a magical stand-point, unless this is a really specific spell someone cast on you. Who would do that?"
Xander shrugged. He had no answers. He'd already given his best idea and gotten shot down.
Willow reached out and touched his hands, stopping him from fidgeting. "Let's do the book thing and find out about this jewel, okay? And then we'll -- I don't know -- we'll figure out the rest of the stuff later."
Xander nodded reluctantly, then he went out back and asked Spike to come back in. He started to apologize as they walked through the kitchen, but Spike just interrupted him. "We still book-worming for this bloody jewel?" Xander nodded and Spike walked away, collapsing into the chair he had vacated earlier. He picked up the book he'd left behind and ignored Xander entirely as he began turning pages.
Xander went and sat down again and tried not to look at Spike. Man, he just kept messing things up. Xander slowly turned the pages of the sort of crusty, flaking book in his hands, his eyes so heavy with fatigue and defeat that he was barely even seeing what was written there.
Barely seeing it, that is, until some familiar words seemed to all happen together.
"Um, guys?" he said hesitantly, trying not to get his hopes up. "I think maybe I found it."
Both Willow and Spike looked up from their reading, their expressions curious. Xander read aloud, "Jewel of Grathnak. Power center prized by many species of time- and/or dimension-traveling demons. The Jewel can be disguised in any form, but legend says that the it can be located if the seeker removes the heart of one who has touched it. The heart must be held upon the open palm, and it shall begin to beat when the Jewel is near. This legend, however, seems based purely upon superstition and is worthy of little regard." Xander was feeling a bit woozy. He looked over at Spike. "You mean that guy was going to tear my heart out?" Xander decided now would be a good time to drop the book and put his head between his knees.
Fighting demons is one thing. Having my heart torn bleeding out of my chest ... that's just ... not something I'd like to imagine. Unfortunately, my friends, that particular horse is already before the cart. Whatever that means.
Willow was suddenly there with a glass of water, kneeling down to peer into his face. "Here. Drink something. You look a bit ... swoony."
Xander tried to pretend that hadn't been a completely humiliating choice of words and simply nodded, sitting up a bit and avoiding looking in Spike's direction. Oh, yes, I am the manly demon-fighter. I shall swoon with manly squeamishness!
There was a lot of papery rummaging noises happening from the Spike direction of the room, though, so eventually Xander turned to look. Spike had several different volumes on his lap and was marking his place in one with a finger, paging through another with the other hand, holding some books open with the weight of other books. He was muttering to himself, "Could've sworn there was a section on Grathnak somewhere..." He looked surprisingly Gilesy. All he needed was a pair of glasses and a handkerchief to polish them on.
With Willow's help, they found a few different references to Grathnak in different books, and the information all pulled together seemed to make some sort of sense, in a crazy-sense kind of way. Willow's theory was that Xander had accidentally touched the Jewel, which could be disquised as anything, and it had caused the bump on his head. And some kind of remnant of the Jewel's magic had attached itself to him, which was why the demons could "feel the Jewel," and was also probably why he time-looped whenever he hit that part of his head too hard.
"So ... what now, Wills? You're the wise and witchy woman. Now we know sort of what's going on ... how do we make it stop?"
Willow frowned in thought and stroked a hand up into her hair, which didn't help the lopsidedness at all. In her orange bathrobe and with the extreme bedhead, she looked sort of like a fluffy orange Gumby. But a very smart fluffy orange Gumby. "I'm not sure," she admitted, blowing Xander's whole smart fluffy orange Gumby idea out of the metaphorical water. Okay, she was still smart. She'd come up with the answer. Because Willow always came up with the answer. She was the answer girl. She of the bodacious brain.
Willow was still reading intently. "It looks," she mumbled, as if to herself, "it looks like we can stop the time distortion if we destroy the Jewel."
"But how do we find it if it can be disguised as anything?" Xander was feeling increasingly frustrated by the fact that right now he just really wanted to sleep. Willow's bathrobe looked very cozy. He wanted one of his own. And maybe a pillow. All time loops and no sleep makes Xander a dull boy.
Then Spike spoke directly to him, and that woke him right up. "Xander, do you remember when you hit your head? It was in that first fight with the demons, right? Near the Rolletti crypt?"
Xander nodded thoughtfully. Yeah. That was when he got the bump on his head, when he got knocked down in the fight. He looked into Spike's eyes and said, "That must be where the Jewel is."
Willow stood up in the center of the room to get their attention and said, "I think we should all go as a group and find this thing and see if we can and should destroy it. We don't know if we'll need you and Spike because you were there the first time, or if we'll need Tara and me for magic, or" -- she glanced apologetically at Spike -- "or even the Bot, for extra strength. So we should all go together."
Xander nodded slowly, but pointed out, "It's almost light. We can't go now or Spike'll get hit by the sun coming up." Spike glanced at him curiously, as if surprised that Xander would consider his safety. It hurt Xander somewhere in his chest, because it probably meant that he hadn't been a very good friend before this.
Willow agreed, "Yeah, I think we should go first thing at dark. Because we want Spike with us, but we also want to get this done as soon as possible." She smiled down at Xander where he sat on the couch and she added, "And I think I have a spell that should protect you. It should keep the demons from sensing the Jewel on you, and it might even keep you from the time-looping."
Xander smiled weakly, "That would be great, Will. Then I can go home and sleep until dark."
She frowned in obvious concern. "Can't you sleep here? We have a guest room, you know. I don't think it's really safe to go out again."
Xander sighed heavily. "You have no idea how long this day has been. I have been killed dozens of times. I've watched Spike get dusted dozens of times. I have run through cemeteries and been whacked in the face by branches. I have run through sewers, splashing through stuff I'd really rather not think about. I have done a whole lot of stuff that I never intended to do tonight, but the one thing that I have not done is lay down in my own bed. And that's what I'm going to do now. I think I've earned it."
And, with that determined pronouncement, he stood up and trudged toward the door.
"Wait!" cried Willow apologetically. "At least let me get the ingredients for the protection spell. It might not last the whole day, but it should keep you safer, at least on the way home. And we'll all be there to meet you tonight at sunset, so you don't have to go out when the demons might sense the Jewel."
Xander waited wearily at the front door. There seemed to be some quiet conversation back and forth between Willow and Spike, and suddenly Spike was standing by his side. "Let Red mojo you up and then we'll head out. Got plenty of liquored-up knives in case we meet any demons, and I could use a place to kip for the day."
Resigned, Xander nodded and asked, "So what do I have to do?"
It didn't take long, and less than half an hour later he and Spike were on their way to Xander's apartment. And Xander was so tired that he didn't even take a moment to consider what that might mean.
Him and Spike.
His apartment.
His gray Babylon 5 t-shirt.
Convergence was imminent.
Part 7: What Do You Expect?
It didn't take them long to get to the apartment. Xander was so tired that Spike had to take the housekey out of his fumbling hand and open the door for him. Xander nodded a vague thanks and then shuffled off to his bedroom, mumbling, "Smell like sewer."
After that, Xander didn't remember anything very clearly. He must have taken off his clothes, because he had some swirly, surreal memories of taking a shower. He vaguely remembered crawling damp and naked into his bedsheets and then hearing the shower running again, but he hadn't seemed to be able to make himself care. He'd just lain on his nice, soft bed, with his nice, soft pillow, in the nice, soft lack of murdering demons, and everything was good.
Next thing he knew, he woke up needing to pee. When he was done, he started to walk out to the kitchen to get something to drink, but stopped when he saw a huge poofy bundle of down comforter on the couch.
When did I take that out? I thought it was still in the closet.
Then the comforter moved slightly and Xander caught a glimpse of fluffy pale yellow hair.
Oh. Right. Spike. Oh. ... Right. ... Time looping. Demons killing us. Need to go smash the Jewel today.
It all started to come back to him, but it seemed pretty unreal, now that he'd had a comfortable sleep in his own bed and the world looked vaguely normal again, at least in a Sunnydale sort of way. Still, Spike's presence seemed pretty obviously real, so Xander ducked back into his room and dug a clean pair of boxers out of the dresser. He was remembering some pretty weird naked stuff between him and Spike and didn't really feel up to wandering around au naturel.
As he shuffled off toward the kitchen, the time looping stuff started to get a little clearer in his head. Yeah, it wasn't a dream, even if it seemed crazy enough to be one. Xander stood at the sink, running water into a glass, and thought, I had sex with Spike. Lots of times. He remembered Willow telling him to think about whether Spike was what he really wanted. The water flowed all over his hand and he quickly turned off the sink. He took a long drink, shaking water off his hand, then wiping on his boxers. His mind seemed to be so filled with thoughts that he couldn't really focus on one. And, weirdly enough, it wasn't the demon fights or the getting killed he kept thinking about. He just kept feeling Spike's skin against his, Spike's kiss, Spike's hardness inside him. He set the glass down on the counter and walked quietly back into the living room to look at the giant poofy pile of down comforter. The indirect light through the kitchen blinds left the room dim, but lit enough that he could still see that seductive bit of Spike's hair.
He stood there a few moments, lost in thought, before Spike's muffled voice emerged from the pile of bedding. "Know you're there, Harris." And then the comforter was moving around, bunching here and there until Spike was sitting up on the couch, poofy bedding folded and wadded in front of himself, one pale, naked shoulder revealed along with his head. He looked disheveled and grumpy. Xander walked over and sat on the couch beside him, then leaned his head against the couch back and sighed at the confusion of his thoughts.
Spike rubbed his hands over his face and then touched his hair and grimaced. Xander snickered, which earned him a sleepy glare. There was no hair gel in the house, and Spike must have washed his hair the night before. He looks all fluffy, like an evil baby chick, Xander thought to himself and then froze.
Holy crap. Is my Babylon 5 t-shirt on the bedroom floor near the door? Holy crap. Holy crap. Are we...? Is this...?
Suddenly, Xander's stomach was fluttering with nerves. He didn't know what to do. And then Spike spoke.
"So, told you about Cecily, did I?" Spike's voice sounded forced, like maybe he'd been fretting about this ever since Xander mentioned it over at Willow's, and Xander felt kind of bad for that. "I must've been three kinds of drunk to let that slip." Xander glanced over at Spike and noticed that the other man's face had that look again. That "go ahead and mock me, you asshole" look.
Xander wasn't sure exactly what to say that wouldn't make things worse. "Um ... no, not drunk. We were just talking."
"Talking," Spike repeated dryly.
Xander frowned. What, he and Spike didn't talk? This was so unbelievable? "Yeah, talking. I was telling you about Anya and ... well ... I'm not sure exactly which conversation it was, because we talked about so much stuff and I looped so many different times." Spike was looking affronted. Xander realized it probably wasn't very flattering to tell someone you can't remember when exactly they told your their huge tremendous secret.
Fuck. I'm messing it up again. What should I say?
But Spike was just looking at him, his expression inscrutable. Xander looked back at him. He thought about what Willow had said. Do I want this? he wondered to himself, looking at Spike's face. Do I? He looked into Spike's eyes.
Yeah, he thought, feeling a little surprised and somehow relieved. Yeah, I do.
Xander got even more nervous. He could feel his hands trembling slightly and he had nowhere to hide them, sitting there in nothing but his ridiculous plaid boxer shorts. And so he did what he always tended to do when he was really nervous.
He babbled.
"I think you're lucky, actually. Because you really loved Dru, and you really loved Cecily, too, and even if they didn't love you back" -- Spike stiffened and Xander thought Oh hell that probably wasn't the right thing to say, was it? but his mouth was already running away with him again -- "you still really loved them. You know what it is to be in love. Really in love. But I never have" -- because of course I'm not in love with you, oh god, am I? no, I can't be -- "I mean, Anya ... I think she loved me, in her own way, as much as she can after being a vengeance demon for that long, with all the hating of men and all that, but I don't think I ever really loved her ... but she's the closest I ever came, you know? So at least you know how to really love someone, and I think that's admirable, because I don't know if I can do it. I mean, I never have."
Spike was staring at him as if he'd sprouted those slimy antlers again. This time, Xander didn't bother to check. He was reasonably sure the antlers weren't there. It was just Spike looking at him like he was crazy. He was the babbling crazy man. The babbling crazy man who was staring as if hypnotized by the silent vampire at the other end of the couch.
God, just ... look at him!
They stared at each other for what seemed like a very long time. When Spike's lips parted as if he was about to speak, Xander just suddenly lunged forward and kissed him, one hand slipping back around Spike's neck to bring him closer. He hadn't even planned it in advance, it was like his body did it without his permission. He was just sitting there, minding his own business, and then suddenly -- bam! -- there was kissage.
Spike's lips weren't moving, and so Xander did his best to persuade them. He used all his most impressive kissing techniques and rapidly became horrifyingly aware of how few and unimpressive they were. But then Spike's lips softened slightly beneath his, no longer so rigid with surprise, and Xander felt himself relax a little, too. He wanted to pull back, to see Spike's expression, to see whether Spike wanted this, but he was afraid that if he stopped then Spike would pull away and it would be over. And he didn't want it to be over.
Willow was right. I do want this with Spike. It's crazy, but I do.
He licked his tongue tentatively along Spike's lips, and that did something, made Spike make a little noise, a little noise Xander had never heard before, and then Spike's mouth was open and his tongue was stroking Xander's and it felt like the world was spinning and Xander had to anchor himself so he thrust both his hands into Spike's hair and discovered that yeah, it was fluffy, it was soft, but not as soft as he'd thought it would be, but Spike's tongue was just like he'd thought, just like he'd felt in that bizarro world, just as slick and agile and oh god Xander thought he might hyperventilate.
Xander pulled away only very slightly, just enough to take a gasp of air and then dive back in, press his tongue back into Spike's mouth and explore, his fingers flexing in Spike's fluffy, not-so-soft hair, grabbing him, wanting to pull him closer, because being in Spike's mouth wasn't close enough, having Spike's tongue in him wasn't close enough. He was half on top of Spike from the way he'd lunged across the couch, but he couldn't feel the shape of Spike's body through all that damn poofy comforter and that wasn't acceptable, wasn't right. So he slid his hands down out of Spike's hair, slid one down to slip back around to the nape of his neck again, because that spot was just too perfect and Xander wanted to cradle Spike's neck like that all day long, but the other hand slid down into the folds of the comforter to stroke that pale shoulder he'd seen before this kissing insanity started, sliding further to stroke over the chest he'd learned so well during all those time loops, wanting to feel those muscles flex against his hand, wanting to feel Spike's stomach tremble...
And suddenly he found himself on the other side of the couch, limbs splayed, hands empty, his mouth wet and open and confused.
Spike was staring at him, his bare chest rising and falling with rapid breaths. The comforter had become dislodged and now showed most of his upper body, down to one side of his stomach. Xander tried not to look, because this was so not the time, but the look in Spike's eyes kept making him want to look away.
Xander tried to keep his gaze on Spike's as much as possible, though it was difficult. Spike looked like he wanted to kill him, and Xander had no idea why. He was afraid to say something, though, since -- knowing him -- he would say the absolutely worst possible thing and make things immeasurably worse. Or he'd start babbling again, and that just never helped matters.
But he couldn't just sit there and say nothing, so Xander tried to gather his brains from where they'd been scattered and began hesitantly, "Spike ... what..."
But Spike interrupted him immediately, his voice low and gravelly. "I'm not your whore."
Xander's jaw dropped. "WHAT? I didn't..."
Spike was looking pointedly at Xander's tented boxers, one eyebrow raised. "That what your little sob story was about? 'Oh, Spike, poor me. My demon bird's flown the coop and my hand just doesn't do the trick. Since nobody loves you, how 'bout you spread your legs and think of bloody England?'"
Xander hadn't thought his jaw could drop more, but it did. He hoped he wasn't slobbering, because he felt like suddenly this was bizarro world and he had no idea what the hell was going on. On the outside, though, all he managed was to repeat brainlessly, even louder, "WHAT?"
Spike clutched at the comforter in a sort of bid for dignity and stood up, but Xander still saw several flashes of pale bare skin. Spike wasn't wearing anything under there. Once upon a time -- say, maybe a couple minutes ago -- that might have been incredibly sexy. Now it was just confusing. And kind of depressing.
Xander shook his head as Spike walked to the other side of the room and folded himself into a chair. As far away from Xander as he could get. That's what he did after the first time I kissed him, too, Xander remembered with a pang. But he doesn't remember that, because it was a different loop. This is so fucked.
"Spike," Xander began again, because somebody had to start talking sense here, and it apparently wasn't going to be Spike. Unfortunately, Xander himself had never been particularly skilled in that arena, but he'd give it the old Sunnydale try. "Spike, I wasn't..."
"Wasn't thinking about me?" Spike interrupted archly. "Closin' your eyes and imaginin' one of the big-titted bints off the telly or one of your porno mags? 'Cause I know you weren't after me, Harris."
Okay, now this was getting ridiculous. Spike was making all kinds of stupid assumptions based on nothing at all and Xander was starting to get really frustrated. "I was thinking about you, Spike. I was..."
"Right," Spike sneered. "Because you have such deep 'feelings' for me."
Xander blushed brightly and stammered, "Well, um..."
But Spike interrupted him again. "Why didn't you go after the Bot, Harris? Afraid the witches might curse your willy if they found out?"
Now Xander was confused again. "The Bot? Why would I..."
Spike shrugged a shoulder which was now thoroughly covered. "You lot treat us the same. Least she's got tits. You squeamish 'cause she looks like Buffy?"
Xander clenched his fists and suddenly just ... couldn't take it anymore ... and kicked the coffee table. It flipped over at the impact, landing bizarrely on its side. It felt good to hit something. He thought Spike might have flinched, but he wasn't sure, because he was too busy being really really ticked. He jumped to his feet and started pacing around the room.
Xander pointed his finger directly at Spike and said firmly, "I do not treat you like the Bot. You're my friend. And I just wanted to..." Well, that part got kind of confused. But he didn't have to worry. Spike was perfectly willing to run with what he'd been given.
"Don't treat me like the Bot, eh? Hm. Then I suppose you don't trot me out for patrol. Don't ignore me as we walk along our merry way. Don't forget all about me when there's no fighting needed. Yeah, you're right." Spike was sneering again. "You don't treat me like the Bot at all. We're great chums, you and I."
Xander was pacing again, his hands still clenched in fists. Why would Spike think this stuff? Do we really treat him like that? Does he really think I think about him like that?
Xander remembered the obvious shock on Spike's face when he'd said Spike was his closest friend in one of the earliest loops. He'd wondered about it at the time, but now it was starting to make a horrible kind of sense.
He'd gotten to know Spike a lot better lately, but Spike didn't remember any of that. All Spike knew was the "companionable silence" from before all this started. And it was becoming increasingly apparent that what Xander had interpreted as companionable silence had only been companionable on one side. On the other side, it had just been silence.
How was he supposed to fix this?
Oh god, this was why he was so pissed off when we had sex during the time loop. Because this is what he thinks of me. This is what he thinks I think of him.
Suddenly, Xander knew that he had to stop this. He walked over to the chair where Spike was sitting, and he knelt down on the floor, trying to look really non-threatening while casting uncertain glances up at Spike's face. Something weird was going on there, making him wonder what Spike had been thinking while Xander had been so lost in thought, coming up with this decision.
"Spike," Xander began, and thought to himself that he seemed to be beginning a lot of sentences that way lately, but none of them ever got finished. He cleared his throat. "Spike, I'm sorry. I shouldn't have..."
But now Spike was staring down at him with his jaw clenched, a small muscle ticking ominously in one sculpted cheek. "No, no," he said with a smile that looked so false it made Xander's chest hurt. "You want me, Harris? You've got me. Don't think it'll be what you expected, though. I'm no bottom-boy."
Xander shook his head quickly, determined to do the right thing. "I don't think that's a good idea." Maybe we could start out with a nice game of pool. Yeah. Get Spike used to the idea of being billiard buddies before we go straight to the naked groping and anal penetration.
Spike grinned at him, but his eyes were dead and cold. "Right. Thought that would send you running. 'Cause Spike's not what you were looking for at all, Harris."
Xander looked up at Spike's face and started to feel pissed off again. "Yes, you were," he ground out stubbornly, keeping his eyes trained on Spike's. "You were the one I wanted, Spike. So quit being such a fucking jerk about it."
Spike rose gracefully to his feet, the comforter falling behind him to pool on the chair and floor. He stood there completely naked and spread his arms wide, head cocked slightly in some sort of challenge. "You want me, eh, Harris? Fine. Let's do this. See how far we get before you run."
Kneeling as he was, Xander was suddenly uncomfortably close to Spike's dangling bits. He scooted back in a rather undignified crab-like movement and stood up. "You seem ... I don't think it would be a good idea right now. Maybe we should stop and..."
Spike grinned that cold grin again. "Oh, no need to stop, Harris. If you want my cock, you'll get it. Never let it be said that I wouldn't oblige a Scooby. It's my sole purpose these days, ain't it?"
Xander frowned and began to say something, but then Spike abruptly moved across the room and was right in his face and was kissing him, hard, hard, rough, grinding their mouths together, pressing lips into teeth, angry and frustrated and it was still so hot that Xander felt like he might faint.
And in that moment, with Spike's fingers clutching his head, Spike's tongue plundering his mouth, Spike's naked body tense against him, and all of it filled with some sort of desperation, some sort of mysterious rushing hatred ... in that moment, Xander figured something out. Yeah, it was like a miracle, but occasionally he did have his moments of clarity. And what he figured out was this: Spike is trying to prove something here, trying to scare me off to prove I don't want him, prove I only wanted to use him, prove that he really is invisible. That he really doesn't matter.
Well, fuck that.
Xander took a step forward, even though there wasn't really enough room to do so, and kissed Spike back just as hard, their bodies pressed tightly together now, as Xander let his hands wander up Spike's sides to his shoulders, back to the sharp angles of his shoulder blades, down along the hollow of his spine. He kissed him back just as hard, just as rough, just as desperate.
Spike pulled away, taking a slight step back, and stared at Xander in obvious confusion. He frowned after a moment. His eyes shifted minutely back and forth, searching Xander's gaze for something. And then his chin lifted again, just the tiniest bit, and he bit out one word: "Strip."
He looks like he expects me to run screaming from the room, my heterosexual virtue fluttering. And a couple days ago, I probably would have. How weird is that?
Xander pulled his boxers down, a bit embarrassed that his dick was already mostly hard. It wasn't just the kissing. It was the remembering, too. Remembering all those other times that Spike didn't remember. And the knowing. Knowing it would be good, because he'd already been there.
When Xander looked up from de-pantsing himself, Spike was still staring at him. He still looked pissed, like Xander wasn't following his part of some script for how this scene was supposed to go. At least, that's how Xander interpreted the look. Maybe it meant something else entirely. Hell, maybe he was pissed off at the lack of hair gel. It could happen.
Spike grabbed Xander's wrist and pulled his arm forward roughly. "Touch my cock," he demanded. Xander's own cock jerked slightly in response, a little jump of joy at being ordered around. Xander thought, not for the first time, I am one sick puppy. And then he wrapped his fingers around Spike's dick and squeezed. Spike let go of his wrist and gasped a little whispery breath of air which Xander took as encouragement, and so he set up a slow stroke. The foreskin made it easy, no need for lube to keep his grip moving smoothly, he just pulled his hand up and down in the sort of leisurely rhythm he liked to use on himself when he was just getting started.
Spike had closed his eyes now and was breathing noticeably. His left hand was tight on Xander's shoulder, gripping him hard enough to probably leave bruises. It wasn't long before, with a muttered curse, he batted Xander's hand away and then started kissing him again, kissing him so hard Xander could hardly think, but somewhere in the back of his mind he realized that they were moving. Xander was sort of stumbling along -- walking with eyes closed had never been one of his best skills, particularly since it tended to be rather inadvisable in Sunnydale -- but Spike was guiding him along as if they were engaged in some sort of dance. And then they stopped, and Xander felt something -- maybe the bedroom door -- against his back, and Spike's attack on his mouth grew in intensity. Xander couldn't help but answer in kind. Their mouths rubbed against each other in desperate bids to allow their tongues better access, resulting in an intensely sexual mating of their tongues, slickly writhing against each other, hard and twisting and Xander could feel his hips bucking against Spike's, because this was just too good, but it had been a really long time since he'd breathed and ... oh, maybe that was why he was getting so light-headed. Maybe it wasn't just Spike's tongue. Maybe he was going to pass out from lack of oxygen.
So Xander jerked his head back and took a gulp of air, smashing the back of his head against the door at the same time. His bump collided with the wood in a rush of pain, making Xander grimace, his eyes shutting as he gasped, "Ouch!"
And then he stood with his eyes closed for a moment, his hand raised to gently touch the painful bump. I'll be back in the cemetery now, right? Talking about Jonathan Richman? No more naked Spike who thinks I treat him like a whore? He wasn't sure if he wanted that or not.
But when he opened his eyes, Xander only saw a very tense Spike watching him intently. And, yeah, they were both still naked. And they were in his bedroom. Xander was puzzled for a moment, but then he remembered Willow's spell. Let's hear it for the wicca power! No more looping for me!
Spike was still staring at him, searching his eyes again, looking for something Xander couldn't name. Xander tried to put aside all his other scrambling, whirling thoughts and just look at Spike, trying to put everything he could into his eyes. Trying to show Spike that he did respect him, that he liked him, that he really did want to be here, whatever that ended up meaning.
Spike's eyes narrowed and he lifted his chin slightly, then turned to walk across the room toward the bed. Xander watched him go, watched the ripple and flex of muscles along the back of his body. Spike's body was beautiful. Maybe he hadn't realized that a couple days ago, but he couldn't help but notice it now.
Spike turned to look at Xander and raised one eyebrow, asking abruptly, "Got any lube?"
Xander almost smiled. That familiar question, when now he understood why Spike was being so rude ... he felt a sudden rush of compassion and guilt. But the best way that he could prove to Spike how he really felt was by going along with this ... this ... challenge. Because no matter how he phrased it, any attempt to end this would be taken as rejection, as proof of all Spike's damned assumptions.
So Xander nodded and said firmly, "In the cabinet by the bed." And he smiled, willing Spike to see that this wasn't the power struggle he thought it was.
But Spike was busy rummaging around in the bedside drawer. When he pulled out a small bottle of lube and tossed it onto the bed, he stared straight at Xander and said harshly, "That'll come in handy when I fuck you in the ass." He crossed his arms over his bare chest.
It was at that moment that Xander realized that this time it was really going to happen. He wasn't going to be watching or remembering or looping or whatever ... this time it was going to be him and Spike, for real. This was different. This was really different. And he blushed. He could hear a bit of a tremor in his voice when he replied, "Yeah, I guess it will."
He watched Spike from across the room and noticed what seemed like small signs of nerves. Spike's tongue licked his lips quickly. He swallowed, his adam's apple bobbing noticeably. He unfolded his arms, and then didn't seem to know quite what to do with his hands. All these signs endeared him even more to Xander, made him want to race over there and grab Spike and kiss him and somehow make him believe that things really weren't the way he thought they were.
But this was Spike's show. He wouldn't believe Xander anyway. He'd probably just believe it was more mockery. So the best he could do was follow Spike's lead. Keep doing what Spike said to do, despite Spike's obvious expectation that he would run away crying like a little homophobic girl.
And so he stood there. The lube seemed to glow like a beacon in the middle of the bed. Every time he glanced at it, Xander felt his dick get even harder. But mostly he couldn't keep his eyes off of Spike, who had walked over to lean against the tall footboard of the bed. He was sort of lounging now, one hand on the bedpost, and he commanded arrogantly, "Then come over here and suck me off." Xander recognized that Big Bad tone. Spike was going for the only kind of dignity he knew. Well, Xander didn't mind. He'd felt his heart race at the command, felt his dick throb even more insistently.
Yeah. I like it when Spike tells me what to do. Bet he never expected that one. Well ... surprise!
Xander walked slowly across the room, his eyes always on Spike's face, hoping desperately that he hadn't left anything laying around on the floor to trip him and make him look like a moron. But, luckily, he walked unimpeded until he reached Spike's feet. Since Spike was leaning slightly against the footboard, his legs jutted out in front of him, and so Xander simply kept coming closer, walking his feet to either side to allow Spike's legs to rest inside Xander's thighs. When he was close enough, he watched Spike's eyes for a long moment, trying to guess whether this would make things better or worse. When he found no answer, he simply took a chance. He leaned forward and initiated another kiss.
This time, there was something different about Spike. He was just as rough, just as demanding, but there was something hungry, something ... yearning, maybe. Something hopeful. Xander felt pretty sure Spike would have immediately gotten dressed and left if he suspected he was communicating any such thing through the touch of his lips.
They kissed a long time, because Xander couldn't get enough. He'd waited so long to be able to really kiss Spike. Him, not his memory looping self. Him. Kissing Spike. And every time it happened it seemed like a miracle. He roughly probed Spike's tongue with his own, learning its contours and movements. He stroked the roof of Spike's mouth, behind his teeth, inside his lips, everywhere he could think of, because he wanted to know it all. And Spike was no less demanding. Frequently, their tongues met and fought for dominance, a struggle that always ended in a sensual compromise of firm sliding and slipping and exploring that left them both weak. At least, Xander hoped it was both of them, because he'd never felt so affected by a kiss in his life. Not even this kiss, when he was seeing it in the loops. Everything was different when he was really here, choosing what to do at each moment. It definitely heightened his arousal.
And his arousal really wasn't needing much help at this point. While they kissed, his cock rubbed occasionally against Spike's stomach, occasionally glancing a touch against Spike's cock which made them both jerk in reaction.
When he couldn't wait any longer to take a breath, Xander pulled his lips away from Spike's, noticing that his hands were now grasping Spike's shoulders, and that Spike's hands were tight on his hips, pulling their erections closer together. Xander looked up into Spike's face and noticed that his expression was a bit strange. He looked surprised, sure, but he also looked almost ... worried. Afraid, maybe. He was watching Xander with eyes that were a bit shiny. And then he did that thing again, that slight lift to his chin. Yeah, waiting for the smack-down.
Xander smiled slightly -- a smile he hoped was mischievous and flirty instead of dorky -- and began slowly sliding down Spike's body. He allowed his palms and fingers to trail over shoulders, pecs, that lovely hollow down the center between Spike's defined abs, and those incredible abs themselves. Xander still wanted to bite them ... but he knew this wasn't the time. This was for Spike. Maybe some other time he'd get a chance to do all the other things he'd thought about. Or maybe this would be the only time. Either way, this one was for Spike.
Spike's body was trembling lightly at his touch, and when Xander wrapped a hand around that familiar cock and took it into his mouth, Spike's mouth opened on a gasp of surprise, his eyes wide with undisguised disbelief. And then, as Xander caressed that hard flesh with his tongue, bringing it further and further into his mouth, Spike swallowed convulsively, his eyes fluttering closed.
Xander kept his eyes rolled up to watch Spike's face -- see? I'm not closing my eyes and pretending you're anyone else, Spike -- stroking and sucking Spike's cock as if he'd been doing it all his life. He'd done it a couple dozen times before, after all. And the practice had helped, not just in keeping him from freaking out. He also knew a few tricks now, things that made Spike buck and swear and moan.
Watching Spike's face the entire time, Xander found himself becoming more and more excited. Sometimes Spike looked down to meet his gaze, and when he did his eyes were dazed and dark. But he never held Xander's gaze for long, because Xander always found some way to get to him, some way to send those lashes fluttering closed again: gently squeezing Spike's balls to make him groan, stroking his shaft while sucking especially hard on the head to make him jerk and curse, licking and sucking Spike's balls to make him moan and pant.
And then suddenly Xander was pushed away, Spike's arms wrapping around him and moving him with ungentle shoves and pushes until he knelt on the fake Persian rug on his hands and knees. "Stay there," Spike growled at him, and then went away for a moment, only to return to kneel snug behind him, just between his legs. Xander almost held his breath. That touch was coming. Any second now.
When Spike's slick hand reached around and grasped his cock, Xander barely contained a shout. He'd gotten so worked up while sucking Spike off, this was almost enough to make him come. He wriggled desperately against Spike's body behind him, and Spike's cock left wet trails against his buttocks. Xander moaned low in his throat, trying to hold back his own mounting excitement as Spike stroked him. He wanted Spike to be in him. He had to hold on until then.
Spike's slippery finger against his asshole made him jerk and gasp. Spike continued to work Xander's cock, but now began to slide a finger into Xander's ass as well. Xander wanted to yell, Get on with it! Hurry up! I want it, so let's go! ... but none of those seemed appropriate responses right now, given Spike's hesitancy. So he knelt there, often allowing his head to hang loose as he struggled with the intensity of his own feelings, and let Spike slowly get him opened up. The fingers inside him were slick and wonderful, but not as wonderful as Spike's cock. Still, whenever Spike rubbed inside him in certain ways, Xander couldn't help but buck and groan and barely restrain himself from begging for more.
"I'd just fuck you now if the chip would let me," Spike said harshly. "I'd hurt you, ride you hard, none of this slow and gentle crap." Spike's voice was low and rough. "Never had anybody in your ass, hey? You'd be tight and hot and you'd scream when I pounded in."
But Xander now knew that was a load of crap. Because his body was already loose enough to hold Spike's cock. Spike had already been slow and gentle, and now he was just trying to scare Xander again, like some display of bravado or some last-ditch effort to save a situation gone far astray of his expectations.
Suddenly, the hand which had been on Xander's cock was gripping the back of his neck, still slick with lube but now holding him in a punishingly tight grip. He pushed Xander's head down so that his cheek was pressed against the rug, his ass raised obscenely high behind him, then Spike spat angrily, "Here's your last chance, boy. Run now or you'll be losing your cherry in about two seconds."
Xander bit down on a frustrated sigh at Spike's continuing macho vampire posturing. Those slippery fingers had stilled their movement inside him -- Spike was probably waiting for that cut-and-run he'd been expecting from the beginning -- and so, instead, Xander wiggled slightly to encourage Spike to keep going. With his cheek against the floor, he couldn't see much, but he felt Spike still behind him, waiting.
The silence stretched out for several moments. Xander felt like an idiot with his head pressed to the floor, his butt up in the air, and a pissed-off insecure vampire waiting for him to say something wrong. Spike couldn't seem to accept that Xander wanted this.
Oh ... that might help.
"Please, Spike," Xander said softly. And he tried to put everything he was feeling into those two words. I want this, Spike. I want you, Spike. I want to feel you inside me. Please.
He felt Spike tremble slightly behind him. The hand released his neck and curved around the side of his head, encouraging Xander to raise his head and rise again onto his hands and knees, encouraging him to turn his head and look back at Spike, who had leaned forward again, his eyes looking a little shiny.
Spike's head was tilted slightly, his expression almost childlike in its confusion and disbelief. He stared into Xander's eyes as if he were looking for something that he didn't truly hope to find. Something he didn't actually believe existed.
Xander felt the fingers slide out of his body and a thickness press against him instead. Spike was still watching Xander's eyes, and this time he heard Spike murmur so quietly that he almost didn't hear him -- apparently hadn't heard him during the looping memories -- just the softest wondering breath that said, "I didn't think you'd..." but Spike didn't finish the thought, just kept his eyes on Xander's as he slowly began to press forward, only the tiniest amount, but Xander felt Spike's cock begin its slide inside him and moaned softly.
He wanted more. And he wanted Spike to kiss him again. He wanted to feel that insane spin of pleasure at the same time that Spike's body moved into his.
He watched Spike's face and pointedly licked his lips, watching Spike's eyes follow the movement. And then Spike was leaning forward just as he'd hoped and Xander was craning his neck around and their lips met as Spike began to slide slowly further inside. The position was awkward, but Spike's hand slid from his neck up to cradle his head, taking most of their weight on his other arm.
Their kiss grew more heated and Spike's cock began to slide in and out in increasingly desperate strokes, causing their lips and teeth to meet in awkward bumps, but neither of them moved to end the kiss. Instead, Spike's hand on his head began to press him closer just as Spike's cock pressed into him a bit deeper, making Xander arch his back, moaning, so close ... so close ... and then Spike pressed him close again, pressing too hard on the bump on the back of Xander's head, making Xander wince slightly and think, Youch!
Part 8: Free and Clear.
{blink}
"... worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though ... lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
This time, Xander really did trip and almost fell right on his ass, but Spike caught his arm just in time, leaving him pressed up against Spike, looking right into his eyes, his heart pounding in his chest. Xander froze.
But Spike let go of him when he seemed to have regained his footing, and Xander looked away, his thoughts racing. He couldn't believe he'd looped again. He'd thought Willow's spell had it all taken care of. He'd thought...
He'd thought that maybe Spike was finally starting to believe him.
When he looked back at Spike again, he couldn't help searching the other man's eyes, looking for the emotions he'd never noticed before. But Spike's face was carefully blank. Yeah. He probably got used to not trusting us -- me -- a long time ago. Xander's chest ached painfully.
Fuck. If I have to start over, at least this Spike doesn't think I see him as a whore. At least I can try and avoid that mistake again.
He remembered the pain and accusation on Spike's face, the self-loathing in his voice, the pure disbelief that Xander might actually want to touch him, the absolute assurance that he was nothing but an object to them, a tool, a Bot.
Unfortunately, just standing around in the cemetery thinking about this was going to get them killed. Xander cleared his throat. Here we go again. "Hey, Spike? I know this is going to sound weird, but we need to get to Willow's right away. I'll explain why when we get there."
Spike looked curious, but shrugged and followed Xander toward the tunnels. Just a patrol Bot, Xander thought to himself. Goes where we tell him. Does what we tell him. Fuck. How could I not have noticed?
It was while they were splashing through unidentifiable sewage that Xander rasped out, "Thanks for saving my life, Spike." He was facing straight ahead as they hurried through the darkness, his vision just a little blurred by ... something in his eye.
"Which time, whelp?" Spike sounded sarcastic and smug, making a mild joke at Xander's expense, sort of the extent of their friendship. At least, on Spike's end.
Xander tried to put everything he was feeling into his voice. "All of 'em," he replied seriously. "Every single time."
Spike was silent for a while. The only sound was their feet splashing through the water and the occasional squeak of what Xander really hoped were rats, because anything else would be even worse.
Splash. Splash splash squeak squeak. Splash splash splash. Squeak. Splash. Splash splash squish. Ew.
After what seemed like forever, Spike finally just said quietly, "You're welcome." And they continued on without saying anything more.
When they got to Willow's, the three of them sat in the living room with cups of coffee and Xander told them about the time looping. He knew he probably sounded bored and frustrated and annoyed with telling the same damn story AGAIN when he'd hoped he was through with all this, but he just didn't have a lot of strength in him right now to act like he was fine. He told them about the Jnok!'ha demons and the Jewel of Grathnak and the getting repeatedly killed and the time distortion. He also couldn't help but tell them that he had already told them this story a few times before and he was thinking about getting explanatory flyers printed up because he was really tired of his own spiel.
And then there came the moment when Xander realized he was going to have to do something uncomfortable. Well, two uncomfortable things, actually. He was going to have to tell Willow about the sex stuff, and he was going to have to tell Spike to go away while he did it. While Willow and Spike discussed possible methods of destroying the Jewel, Xander thought and thought. And then he realized there wasn't going to be any really good solution.
"Uh, hey, Spike?" he said nervously. Please don't let me hurt his feelings. Please don't let him think I'm ordering him around like a servant or a ... a patrol robot or something. "There's some sort of magic-specific stuff I need to talk about with Willow, but we might as well divide up our efforts. Maybe you can keep looking for more about this Jewel of Grathnak while she and I go talk in the kitchen?"
Transparent! That's so transparent! It's like ... Saran Wrap, it's so transparent! It's like the Invisible Man! Like a jellyfish! It's like a really really see-through transparent thing!
Spike narrowed his eyes, but nodded and pulled a book onto his lap, settling in to search for information about how to destroy the Jewel. Xander mentally wiped his forehead with relief.
Once in the kitchen, he sat down at the table and faced Willow and told her everything in hushed tones, hoping Spike wouldn't hear if he spoke quietly enough. And, okay, he didn't tell her everything everything, because he left out most of the details, but he told her enough that her face gradually became an interesting shade of fuschia which clashed horribly with her orange chenille bathrobe.
"It sounds," she said, and her voice sounded a little strained, like she was trying to pretend this was all perfectly normal when it really really wasn't, "like my spell maybe messed things up a bit." She gave him her "oops" face, and it was so cute that he had no defense against it. "I think the spell might have lasted for a little while, but then worn off. So when you bumped your head the first time, you started some sort of ... um ... loop recording or something ... but you didn't actually loop. And then when the spell wore off, you looped when you bumped your head again."
Xander gazed at her with complete incomprehension in his eyes. Me no understand. Me big dumb monkey. Me need pictures? Pictures show?
Willow took a sip of her coffee and gave him big apologetic eyes. "Just ... it looks like the sex thing was repeating because of my spell. At least, that's my guess." She smiled her "oops" smile again and Xander rolled his eyes with a chuckle.
"Well, gee, thanks, Will," he deadpanned. "I owe you a lot. Like my whole new sexual identity." She looked really confused. "If that stupid sex thing hadn't happened over and over and over again, I never would have developed this weird 'thing' for Spike."
Willow's eyes got big and she glanced toward the living room, then back at Xander. "You really...?"
Xander shrugged and looked down. Oh, there's that interesting blister on my thumb! "Yeah." He smiled ruefully. Then he lowered his voice to almost a whisper and insisted, "But he doesn't know. And he doesn't ... he thinks ... it's just going to be complicated."
Then Xander had a sudden thought and his face fell. He looked down at the tabletop, then back at Willow. He whispered softly, "I don't even know if he likes guys, or if he was just ... just doing that to try to ... I don't know ... win some kind of macho contest." Xander swallowed painfully. "Maybe we can at least be friends." He licked his lips and glanced toward the living room. "I do know that if I want to ... if I ... I'm going to have to go slow, 'cause Spike's got all these ideas about ... me ... and us ... and ... everything."
Willow nodded supportively, putting on her "best friend" face, which looked particularly adorable beneath the extreme bedhead. "But you're sure you want to ... with Spike?" She looked serious. Concerned Willow, Friend Extraordinaire.
Xander looked down at the fascinating tabletop and nodded again. "If Spike wants to. Eventually. I guess. Yeah."
Suddenly Willow grinned. "So you're going to have to like ... romance him, right?"
Xander blushed and looked away. "Oh, yeah. I'm the big Don Juan. Maybe I'll give him a necklace so he can throw it back in my face. Or maybe I can cast a love spell on every vampire in Sunnydale."
Willow's face was alight with excitement. "I can help!" At Xander's raised eyebrows, she clarified quickly, "Not magic help. Just ... friend help. Romance help."
Xander smirked slightly and quipped, "I don't know if your idea of romance and Spike's have much in common, Will." But then he remembered what Spike had told him about being a poet when he was human. Xander wouldn't tell Willow -- or anyone else -- about that, but it did give him a bit of hope for the whole romance thing.
Not that Xander was going to go writing any poetry, because that would nix things for sure.
Xander cleared his throat. Time for a change of subject. "So ... uh ... destroying this Jewel should stop the time looping?"
Willow frowned. "I think so. It seems pretty clear, but these old books aren't all that reliable on the details."
"Sounds like we should include Spike in this conversation, so let's head back," Xander suggested. But as they stood he took hold of Willow's arm and said quietly, "But don't tell anybody, okay? Not even Tara. Because if you tell Tara, then eventually Dawn will find out, and then she'll be giggling every time she sees Spike, and then Spike'll figure it out, and it'll be like junior high all over again. And Spike'll write me a note to tell me he hates me and have you pass it to me in Health class and then the teacher'll intercept the note and read it out in front of everyone and..."
Willow laughed, shaking her head and holding up a hand. "I get it. I get it." She didn't look very happy about keeping something from her girlfriend, but Xander met her stare and hoped she could see how serious he was, despite the babbling. He must have won, because she nodded reluctantly and crossed a finger over her heart, whispering, "Promise." Then she gave him a little smile, and Xander hugged her tight.
Back out in the living room, Spike had found some new info on the Jewel. Willow sat down to read the new stuff he'd found, along with the books and pages Xander had been able to recommend from previous loops. At a certain point, Willow decided to go wake Tara, and they both came downstairs fully dressed.
"I think we should go soon," Willow said seriously. "I know the demons are still out there, but we need to destroy this Jewel or Xander might loop again."
Xander interrupted quickly to add, "And that would be BAD. Oh, and nobody touch the back of my head, while you're at it."
Willow nodded and gave everyone the run-down. The plan was to head out armed for any encounter with the demons, so Spike and Xander would carry blades coated in alcohol.
"Wait," Xander said suddenly. "I don't think Spike should go. He should stay here and guard Dawn. We can take the Bot, instead."
Spike turned to look at him, obviously pissed as hell. "I'm not staying behind, whelp. If there's fighting to be done, I'm going."
Xander gritted his teeth. Then he pulled Spike aside and told him quietly, "I've seen these guys kill you dozens of times now. I think it would be better if you stayed here."
Spike screwed up his face in disdain. "Since when have any of you lot given a toss whether I was dust or not?"
Xander look Spike straight in the eyes and said, "I care. And I don't want you getting dusted again. Not because of me."
Spike gave him a strange look, sort of confused, sort of impatient, sort of waiting for the punchline. Then he replied only very abruptly, "I'm going." He pulled away from Xander and turned toward Willow. "How many we need, eh?"
Willow glanced uncertainly at Xander, then back at Spike. "Um ... I guess Tara and me for the magic stuff, since we aren't quite sure what we're getting into ... and Xander, since he's touched the Jewel and might be able to help us find it. And..." she glanced again at Xander, uncertain, "I guess we probably need one other fighter. Maybe two. Maybe both you and the Bot?"
Spike stiffened slightly. Xander had always assumed that he was uncomfortable around the Bot because it reminded him of Buffy, but now he wondered if it might be a lot more than that. He figured it probably was.
"No," Xander butted in suddenly. "I don't think we need the Bot." Spike shot him a surprised glance. "Leave the Bot here to keep an eye on Dawn. We'll be back before sunrise, anyway."
Willow shrugged obligingly and said, "That seems like a plan."
So she and Willow grabbed some various supplies that seemed like they might be useful, and Spike and Xander dug into the weapons chest. Once again, Spike stashed blades all over inside his coat, and once again Xander had to make do with a couple of large knives.
"Hey, you think you could show me how to customize my jacket?" he asked Spike. "It would be good to be able to carry more knives like that, when we're headed into big fights."
Spike nodded easily. "Only takes a few loops here and there, some leather pockets to keep you from getting cut. I'll show you."
Xander grinned. "Great! Thanks!" A step toward non-Botness! Almost a friend-like thing!
The walk through the cemetery was eerie. Well, it was eerie for Xander, but he figured it was probably business as usual for everyone else. But for him ... he kept seeing certain areas of the cemetery and remembering battles that no one with him had seen. It was like those battles didn't even exist, except inside Xander. He felt sort of like one of those war survivors ... they've gone through all this intense stuff that bonds them to their fellow soldiers ... except Xander's fellow soldier didn't remember any of it. So Xander felt all bondy ... but Spike didn't.
It was sort of ... lonely.
When the demons showed up, it was even more anti-climactic than last time, because Xander didn't really feel any need to make a show of killing the Creepy Little Guy. He and Spike together polished off the demons in only a few minutes' time, and Tara and Willow were suitably impressed, especially with Xander's heretofore unknown knife-throwing ability. "One of the perks of time-looping," he grinned, glad he'd gotten a chance to show off. He wondered if Spike had noticed. And then they were all continuing on through the cemetery, green-foaming demon corpses in their wake.
They finally got back to the Rolletti crypt, where Spike and Xander had first battled the spiny demons before Xander's first time loop. Xander looked around and tried to find the place where he'd been thrown onto the ground. Suddenly, his heart was racing, pounding, as if he'd been running for his life. "It's nearby," he gasped, clutching his chest. "My heart is beating fast."
Willow and Tara quickly cast a spell to reveal magical objects in the vicinity, and a rock on the ground began to glow faintly. Xander gingerly leaned down to pick it up, but his heart beat as if it would leap out of his chest and the bump on the back of his head was suddenly shooting sharp pain through his head. He almost fell down.
Staggering back, Xander explained, "I can't touch it. My heart is freaking out and my head is splitting."
Spike glanced at Willow. "This thing gonna start me hopping around in time if I touch it?"
Willow shook her head. "We've got protection spells on all of us. Plus, the spell we cast to find it should make it sort of ... weakened ... for a few minutes. So it shouldn't have much power now."
Spike nodded, glanced at the fairly normal-looking rock that just happened to be glowing a faint pink, and then asked, "So how exactly you want me to destroy this thing?"
Willow grimaced slightly. "We didn't actually find anything specific about how to do that. I hoped it would be clearer when we got here."
Spike added dryly, "But it's not."
Willow shook her head apologetically.
"Well," Spike said, straightening his shoulders and pulling himself to his full height, "here goes nothing." And then he leapt into the air, landing with both Doc Marten'ed feet on the rock. It seemed to sort of shimmer ... but it didn't go away. So Spike proceeded to stomp on the thing over and over again. One foot. Both feet. Switch to the other foot. Each time, the rock shimmered but didn't break.
Finally, Xander stepped forward and said, "It seems connected to me, so maybe I can help. Maybe I can touch the rock at the same time as you try to break it."
"Nah. Nearly sent you to the emergency room the first time you tried that." Spike frowned in thought for a moment, then reached out unexpectedly and grabbed Xander's wrist. And then with a wicked grin, he kept hold of Xander while he leapt into the air again and landed with both booted feet on top of the rock, which abruptly shattered, leaving no visible remnants.
Xander let out a whoop of triumph and leapt into the air, grabbing Spike into a celebratory one-armed hug, grinning. Spike patted him a bit, as if humoring him, and then released him right away, looking uncomfortable.
"How's your head?" asked Willow immediately, and Xander reached up his hand to feel for the bump. Then he smacked himself in the back of the head, just to be sure. Okay, yes, pain, but not time-loop pain in my ass sort of pain.
"The bump's gone!" he shouted. "It's gone! No more looping for me, mister! No more looping for me!"
Everyone was watching him with little smiles on their faces, but Willow suggested that she and Tara both see if they could sense any of the Jewel's magic still lingering on him. After they'd made a thorough magical investigation, the verdict was that he was free and clear.
"Woo hoo!" yelled Xander. "Yeah, baby! I'm free!" He wanted to dance Spike all around, celebrating the fact that they wouldn't be dying anymore, but Spike didn't remember any of the dying, so he didn't really have anything to celebrate. Plus, he'd probably think Xander was making fun of him or something.
That was a sobering thought.
Yeah, there was still the Spike problem. Xander found himself pondering it as the group of them headed back to the house. They needed to get Spike inside before sunrise, and Xander wanted them all together for some kind of breakfast or something to celebrate. Like a group thing. Specifically with Spike.
Okay. So I've tried this whole me-and-Spike thing a couple of different ways. And last time I apparently made Spike feel like a whore. Let's not do that one again. Like, ever. Um ... unless he likes that sort of thing. Okay, don't need those mental pictures right now. Nobody'll notice if I straighten my jeans just a bit right? Okay, so I was thinking about something innocent, right? Something innocent ... about Spike ... why does that sound so insane? But if I want to see if he ... well ... then I guess I'm supposed to romance him? What the heck am I supposed to know about romancing somebody ... let alone a hundred-year-old male vampire?
Xander glanced up and saw that Willow had discreetly pulled Tara a bit ahead of them, giving him and Spike just a bit of privacy. Xander smiled a tiny secret smile at her back. She was a good friend. And this was so pathetically junior high. Then he glanced over at Spike, who was striding along just like always.
Spike was, as usual, tossing his knife casually. Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. And Xander got an idea.
On one of the tosses, Xander caught the knife in the air, making Spike turn to him in surprise. Xander tossed the knife in the air and caught it neatly. He'd never done the tossing thing -- only the throwing at murderous spiny demons thing -- but apparently the practice had paid off. He felt terribly excited that it had worked. I'm Xander the knife-tossing guy! But he tried to play it cool.
He tossed Spike's knife again and caught it, saying casually, "So. Want to go see Jonathan Richman at The Bronze tomorrow?"
Spike grabbed his knife on Xander's next toss and scowled, "Why would I want to do that?"
Xander shrugged, looking straight ahead as they returned to walking behind Willow and Tara. "I don't know. I sort of like those poet punk types."
He looked over and saw that Spike's eyes were narrowed, watching him with something like suspicion, something like defensiveness, something like anger ... something maybe like fear. Xander just smiled, trying to look as harmless as possible, and added, "Not like there's a lot of other stuff going on, anyway."
Spike looked away and started tossing his knife again, as if the rhythm were somehow comforting. "Sure," he said, affecting great boredom. "Should be good for a laugh."
And Xander smiled at him.
The End
Author's Note: Now that it's all over and I don't have to worry about spoilers, I can list my influences. This fic has been heavily influenced by some or all of the following: the BTVS episodes "Life Serial" (the mummy hand section) and "Dead Things" (the fight with the time-shifty demons); the movies Groundhog Day, Run Lola Run, Donnie Darko, Happy Accidents, and Being John Malkovich; the entire television series Quantum Leap; the "Deja Voodoo" episode of the television series The Dead Zone; the Babylon 5 episodes "Babylon Squared" and "War Without End (Parts 1 and 2)"; and any other time-loop or time-shift story I've ever encountered. I haven't purposely stolen anything in particular from any of them, but they're no doubt all stirred up together in the mix that is my brain. There've also been many similar movies and television episodes and whatever that I haven't seen, of course. For example, in the fic, Xander refers to the "Been There, Done That" episode of the television series Xena: Warrior Princess, which I've never seen, but which my husband assures me was hysterical. And I should point out that this whole fic was in fact inspired by my husband's off-hand remark (while watching The Dead Zone), that "Every science-fiction show has to have a Groundhog Day episode," to which my brain immediately replied, "SPANDER!"
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