Sweet Revenge
Part 12
Spike lit up a smoke as he walked slowly back to his crypt. He didn't feel particularly good. Not as good as he should considering the evening had gone just the way he wanted really. Not good at all actually.
Everything felt drab. Looked dull. Like Xander was some kind of drug that now he'd had a fix of he was having the come down. And his mind kept wandering down paths he didn't like. Whispering things to him that he couldn't block out. No matter how deeply he inhaled on his smoke or how much he shook his head futilely to try to dislodge the thoughts they were still there.
He threw his cigarette away angrily, picking up speed as he began to walk faster, jog, soon out and out sprinting, but he could still hear his thoughts through the roar in his ears and eventually he stopped.
"Right! Fine!" He walked into the kiddies park he'd stopped by and sat down on the swing. Lit up another smoke and let his thoughts come out clearly. /Deal with 'em one by one. Nice and logical./
"Alright brain. What's the effin' problem?" he asked aloud.
/Oh great. Nice going mate. Talking to yourself. Treating your brain like it's a separate person. You don't think you might have spent just a tad too much time with her looniness do you?/
"Whatever. Just stop festering and whispering in there before I really do get as loopy as Dru and come out so I can deal with it."
He flicked the ash away, tried to relax his shoulders and attempted to face the feelings bubbling away under the surface that were driving him crazy.
***
He'd been propped above Xander, still inside him when he'd felt Xander pushing against his chest. Since speech was still a fair way away from his brain he'd just pulled out and watched as Xander slid on his boxers and without looking at Spike, left the room. A moment later Spike heard the shower click on.
A few minutes passed by and Spike had managed to pull his jeans on with fingers that seemed curiously reluctant to work properly. He'd felt . . .weird. Not really ready to go. But didn't want to stay either. He'd felt fidgety. Restless. Unsettled and he didn't like it. And it was all bloody Xander's fault with his sweet mouth and hot skin and the 'oh yes do hurt me a little more' look in his eyes. For some reason he couldn't quite put his finger on Spike felt incredibly pissed off with Xander at that moment. Wanted to yell at him, or punch him or fuck him or *something*. Just anything, just to make him feel like Xander was still working in this plan, like Xander wasn't spinning off in his own direction and taking the plan with him.
Remembering letting Xander come into his mouth, that tender kiss, Spike felt the anger and tension coil up another notch. *Bloody* Xander, making him act all nice, all caring and gentle. What the *hell* was going on? His fingernails dug into his palms and he had an urge to go in that bathroom, drag Xander out by his hair, throw him on the floor and give the lad his first lesson in how to suck off a vampire. /Show him who's in charge here. Why not? I dropped my head to him. Only fair he returns the favour./ His features in a snarl, fury just below the surface, his game face hovering far too close he'd entered the bathroom.
He could see the shape of Xander through the shower curtain. Unaware that Spike was standing so close to him. Spike forced himself to take a moment. To just calm down a little, the last thing he needed was for the chip to go off, and if he didn't do this right it would. And hell he hated always having to be so bloody careful! He'd looked away from Xander, and his eyes fell on the cracked mirror.
He stared at it, confusion gradually fading away as he realised that Xander must have done this. Hammered at the mirror with his fists. In pain. In fear. Not now or he'd have heard it. Before. After the first time. /Now you don't know that mate/ he thought uncomfortably. /Could have been anything, you don't know/ Except he did, with a certainty that defied logic. He just knew, and he should be pleased about it.
He turned his eyes back to Xander through the curtain. Looking properly now, not just through a haze of anger. His head was hanging dejectedly, his fists clenched against the wall. The water was obviously too hot, Spike could feel the heat from where he was standing and the steam was filling up the room.
He'd felt . . .something catch in his throat. Something painful balled in his chest and his game face had receded without him even noticing. His fists relaxed and he'd backed out of the bathroom. Closing the door with a tiny click behind him.
He'd tried to dress himself quickly, wanting to be gone when Xander came out, cursing his own clumsy fingers, and his dithering that caused him to waste time, he'd just grabbed his duster when Xander had reappeared. His dark hair was plastered against his head in a black wet slick. He'd slipped on a pair of jeans and his skin was still flushed from the heat of the water.
And Spike didn't think he'd ever seen anything sexier in his entire existence. It was only spoiled by the utter misery on his face. And for a second he remembered the tremulous smile Xander had given him, just before he began to move inside him. The painful feeling in his chest intensified.
Xander froze as he saw Spike.
"Still here then?" His voice came out hard, brittle with tears he was determined not to shed for Spike.
Spike shrugged on his duster, trying to move slow and casually, like he just couldn't be having a better time, and shoved his hands deep in the pockets to hide the shaking.
"Wouldn't be very polite to shag and leave without saying goodbye now would it?" He forced himself to sound jaunty, amused, and it must have come out fairly convincingly because Xander's face closed down a little more and his voice was harsh.
"So say goodbye."
"Right. Goodbye." He'd brushed past Xander quickly, no smart comments this week. He just wanted to get away, escape from the feeling that he was in a steadily shrinking room. He'd reached the door when Xander spoke again.
"What the hell do you want?" Anger and hurt. And self hate. Acres of it. "What is *in* this for you? Mind games? Are you that bored?" A pause. A pronounced tremor as he asked. "Do you hate me so much?"
Not looking round at Xander, he hadn't intended to answer him, because talk was so cheap, it was actions that counted and no matter what he said he was still going to hurt Xander, and he just wanted to leave, to get *away* from these fucked up feelings, but he heard his voice say, "Low self esteem much mate? How do you know it's not just the sex? You might not have been around much, but I have, let me tell you, sex like this doesn't happen everyday."
"Just tell me the truth."
Spike turned around. The dark eyes were fixed on him intently. Shaking, but determined, his jaw looked like it had been cast in iron. Xander wanted some answers. And Spike felt something, some touch of . . .respect? Admiration? Even after everything Xander still was asking for answers from him, a demon. Still trying to work this out. And maybe he did deserve an answer of some kind. Not *the* answer, but something.
"You know" he began with no clear idea of what he was going to say, "Dru used to ask me if I would give you to her. She liked you. She said you were strong and beautiful. Light held in darkness. She wanted to see what you'd be like when you were dark inside and out. Crazy, I wouldn't of course, had enough problems trying to keep her under control. Last thing I needed was her lifting her dress for someone else, and the Slayer chasing us with a personal vendetta. Then she got strong. She used to go out and watch for you. It was a full time job keeping her away let me tell you. You were lucky, well protected. Angelus came back and she started on him. Trying to get him to turn you, he wanted to. He would have done. I kept talking him out of it. He would have still done it eventually but got distracted by the Slayer and the whole trying to end the world deal. I think he wanted to break you in." He shook his head in amazement. He hadn't thought of this before but it was true. "First time I've ever got somewhere before him, got something he wanted."
Xander stared. Confusion written all over his face, trying to make sense of all of this. " Dru was insane, and Angel, he wanted to kill all of us, to hurt Buffy."
Spike shook his head, "No, Dru was crazy, but when it came to what she sensed, what she wanted she was bang on, and with Angel . . .well Buffy would have been a plus, definitely, but if it was about hurting her, he'd of just killed you, turning you wasn't about her really. He just wanted you. It'd just eat him up to know I've got there first."
"So this is about Angel?" A faintly sick expression was on the lads face.
"No. Lets just call it a bonus."
He turned to go, but Xander called after him, "Angel hated me, I hated him."
"And you hate me, but you still want me don't you? Passion has got nothing to do with liking someone mate."
Not waiting for a reply, he left the apartment. Heard nothing behind him but silence.
***
Now sitting on the swing in the park his cigarette turned into a long column of ash, Spike swore softly. That little scene had bothered him. In fact the whole night had somehow taken a swing into weird territory, despite it also somehow turning out how he wanted it.
He didn't like that Xander had wrung an admission of sorts out of him. He didn't like that he'd wooed the lad gently as he seduced him to respond. Being gentle wasn't part of this. In fact it really would have been better to take him hard when he was trying to be switched off. That would have really proved the point that Xander was Spike's to use as he wanted to. He didn't like the sad droop of Xander's head in the shower and he didn't like that shattered mirror. He didn't like that he was starting to think of Xander like, well like a person. . .like he wasn't just a commodity to be used and discarded as Spike saw fit. Most of all he didn't like that little voice in his head telling him that he was abusing Xander.
/It's not abuse. He was willing. Hell, begging for it at the end.
Oh yeah?/ Piped up another voice. /So it's not abuse of his body. What about his mind? What about his feelings? When you know you're only doing this to hurt him, to hurt Buffy? Not rape but bad enough. Face it, for all your high and mighty speak about being better than Angelus you've turned into a sick, twisted, mind game playing prick just like him./
"Shut up!" He muttered. "Buffy deserves it. And if this is the only way to teach her a lesson then I'll do it. And I couldn't give a toss about little Xander's soddin' feelings."
/And what about bein' all gentle with him?/
"Cos I'm not Angelus! I'd never do to anyone what he did to Dru. Cos I don't want to be staked! Besides yeah I might be fucking him to hurt him but it's me preference innit? I want a bloody lover who appreciates the things I do, not one who doesn't notice not matter what I'm gonna do at the finish."
/And what about that kiss?/
"I was in the soddin' moment alright?"
/You want him. You want to crawl back in that bed with him and spend the night taking him, teasing him, making him beg for you. You want to feel what it would be like if he took over, if he lay you down and ran his hands and mouth over you. You want to take him and kiss him and suck him and worship him with your body until you collapse into an exhausted sleep, then wake up in the night and do it all over again and again and again . . ./
"No I don't! I've got a plan, it's a good plan, it's working like a dream."
But it didn't feel like a dream. And he knew. It wasn't Xander he was pissed off with back there, it was himself. Things might be going smoothly on the surface, but the reality was his stomach clenched in knots. His knuckles glowing white and the tension radiating from the inside out.
"Alright." He admitted. "He might be having an . . .effect. I'll just have to try a bit harder. Not *let* him have an effect. I am still in fucking control here."
/Not when you're shagging him you're not./
"Shut. The. Fuck. Up."
Xander was lost. Not physically, that would have been pretty easy to sort out. Ask for directions, buy a map, whatever. This wasn't so easy, emotionally, mentally he was about a million miles from where he should be in a strange land where the sky was yellow and the grass was blue and water ran upwards and there was nobody he could ask for help. Completely alone. Led here by a demon with blue eyes and a wicked mouth and without the faintest idea of how to get home. And he wanted to cry and he wanted to laugh and he wanted to stake Spike and he wanted to fuck Spike and he wanted Spike to vanish and he wanted Spike to carry him away to a place where there was just the two of them forever and ever and ever . . .
"Xander?"
Xander jumped slightly then raised his eyes to look around the magic shop where the Scoobies were in high research mode, and turned to see Willow watching him. He realised he'd been clenching the book he was supposed to be translating so tight the spine had bent.
"What?" Shouldn't snap at Willow. Willow is good and sweet, but he has to snap at someone he feels like a ball of energy shoved in a too small cage and wants to run and shout and scream and kill something but he can't. So he's just sitting quietly with a book clenched in his hand feeling like any minute he's going to explode.
Willow blinked in confusion.
"I asked if you were coming to the party on Saturday?"
Xander slowly stretched his fingers out, it was hard going, they felt like they'd cramped up. How long had he been drifting in his spooky world ?
"Dunno, probably not, not really in a party mood."
"Oh come on, it'll be fun." She paused then batted her eyes teasingly at him. "Pleeeaaase?"
Xander felt a smile tug at his lips then gave in to it grinning reluctantly. "Don't give me the bambi eyes ok?"
"I'm ruthless when it comes to getting my own way." Just to prove the point she gave him her resolve face that worked as well now as the first time he'd seen it after he'd stolen her Barbie.
"Don't I know it." He shook his head slightly in defeat. "Okay, I am party guy, hear me roar."
"Great!"
His smile faded as he looked back at the book. What the hell was he doing? How had he somehow gotten into a place where smiling was almost a chore?
As if he had to ask. He was sick. That was the only thing he could think of to explain it. Sick.
And it was all Spike's fault. Bad, cruel, impossibly sexy Spike.
To fool around with Spike once - okay curiosity and lust. Fair enough. To sleep with him once, maybe, that was bad, terrible, but still kind of understandable but to do it again! After Spike had treated him so badly. . .twice! It was unbelievable. Except he had to believe it because it had happened. Why? Why, why, why? All he had to do was say no. One little word no. N.O. Spike couldn't force him to do anything. But he couldn't say it, and even if he could say it he didn't mean it, and even the last time, when he'd tried not to respond, tried to take his mind away Spike had done things, made him feel things that had him begging for more. He flushed with embarrassment. He'd actually *asked* Spike to fuck him!
Stupid, stupid, sick Xander.
But still . . . Spike could have fucked him, used him and strolled out but he didn't, only sliding in when he knew Xander wanted him to, /Yeah to make it more fun for him. To prove that I'm putty in his hands. Not because Spike actually cared about how I was feeling/ And he'd been feeling . . .bad. Used. Dirty. But somehow Spike had made him forget that, at least for a little while, so even though the afterwards horrified realisation that he'd done it *again* was awful the sex was still amazing. The only problem was the afterwards lasted a hell of a lot longer. Except it was hard to remember that when Spike was wrapped around him like a second skin and that hard sweet body was thrusting against him.
And not thinking about Spike anymore. Nope. Not a bit of it. Not remembering the last time he had Spike in his bed. Not remembering the line of his neck as he threw his head back, not remembering how he sounds when he whispers to Xander when he's inside him, not remembering Spike's mouth wrapped around his aching length. . .
Bad, bad thoughts and Xander was great at dealing with bad thoughts. There were simple rules. You never speak about them, you batten down the hatches and keep smiling so that nobody asks what's wrong and eventually you stop thinking the bad thoughts.
Except normal rules don't quite seem to be working here because he is still thinking about it, and smiling is hard to do and he is remembering it and he's got the evidence to prove it. Hard, heavy, straining against the fabric of his pants.
He shifted uncomfortably, shivering slightly as the fabric rubbed against him, thanking god he was sitting at the table and nobody could see. Staring blindly down, not wanting to look up in case they can see the truth on his face.
And God he *hated* Spike, but he *wanted* him. Wanted him so bad . . . /I guess it's official. I am completely fucked up./ Felt edgy and antsy and bad and wanted Spike to come and fuck him and fuck him and fuck him because when Spike was fucking him everything went away, and he was lost in his cool skin and demanding kisses and pleasurepain but that was what had gotten him into this bad place in the first place so it must be wrong, it was wrong and Willow was asking him if he wanted to go to a party? It felt like two desperately incompatible parallel universes trying to converge and yeah he actually had considered that option. And what the hell had that last conversation been about anyway? Xander didn't really believe that Angel and Dru had wanted him, but maybe *Spike* believed it which might explain why Spike was doing this, except Spike had already said it wasn't and for some reason totally beyond his comprehension Xander believed him. So it was something else. Spike had all but admitted it, and whatever these reasons were Xander doubted they were for the good. Someone was going to get destroyed. Probably him. All because he couldn't say no to a guy he hated who was busy playing mind games with him.
So somehow his almost extinct social life wasn't high on his list of priorities of things to worry about. What was high on the list was the current family of demons trying to make the hellmouth their new home. Even higher than that was that no amount of research was yielding what they were or what would kill them so Buffy had gone to ask Spike if he knew anything. And yep there it was, top of the list, clear and undisputed winner of the things to worry about was maybe Spike was going to make an announcement of exactly what they had been doing with each other lately, and though that was a stupid idea, Xander couldn't shake the feeling that Spike just might do it.
"What are you going to wear Xander?" Willow asked perkily.
"Hmm?"
"To the party!"
Xander gazed at her completely befuddled. What was he going to *wear*? What did it matter?
"Clothes matter" She said sternly almost like she was reading his thoughts, "If you want to meet someone else you know, now Anya's um, gone, you gotta make the girls go non verbal."
"Believe me Will's I am *not* looking to meet anyone else," he said viciously.
"As much as I hate to interrupt this obviously important matter of Xander sartorial elegance," Giles said, interrupting, "have either of you actually found anything about the demons currently wreaking havoc?"
"Nope." Willow sighed and looked over at Tara who shook her head.
'Xander?" Giles rubbed his eyes tiredly.
"Nada. But we should keep looking don't you think? Then we can call Buffy and tell her not to bother with Spike and . . ." He trailed off at Willow's look. "What?"
"Nothing." She turned to check on Dawn who was fast asleep her head pillowed on her arms
Xander stood up to get another book, thankfully his erection had receded - for the moment. Pure fear had a habit of doing that.
/Please God/ He prayed fervently /Please don't let Buffy find Spike. And if she does please don't let him say anything/
And where the hell was Spike and what was he doing?
Song lyrics taken from Nickel's 'Stupid Thing'
Spike was in a graveyard. Except he thought he knew every graveyard in Sunnyhell, and he didn't remember this one at all. There was something . . .wrong with it. It was huge, filled, practically stuffed with the dead, and the grass was slightly too long, ragged, and there were way more headstones than there should be, and they looked wrong as well. Too crooked and dirty. He could almost imagine faces leering out of them, faces of the dead with sly smiles that didn't hide their hate and anger. The branches of the trees were almost reaching towards him, and he knew it was crazy but they looked, felt, like clutching fingers trying to grab at him and the sky was blood red and the moon had fangs and it was cold. Bitterly cold, can feel the coldness in his very bones and can't think of a way to make it stop. Hasn't felt chill like this since he was alive, and there's nowhere here to shelter. The graveyard stretched out as far as he could see, bleak, the wind is whistling through him and he is completely alone.
Then he saw her, in the distance just like he'd seen her the first time. Dancing to a tune he can't hear and as he stumbled towards her the graveyard rippled, changed and he was in the Bronze circling around merging with the crowd and watching her dance, the red head and the whelp moving with her and the song starts echoing in his ears.
I did a stupid thing last night
And he is there, back at the beginning, where it all began but something isn't right, the Bronze has no scent and the people aren't giving off any warmth, but Buffy was the same. He began to move closer but the closer he tries to get the further away she moves.
I called you, a moment of weakness, no not a moment more like three months of weakness
The music was louder now, he could feel it hammering through him, feels like his ears are going to burst with the noise, and the louder the music gets the fainter the crowd gets until they just drift away, Willow and Xander vanish and the Bronze fades, and he's back in the graveyard, like he was there all the time.
I'm one step away
But he's not completely alone, she's still there some distance away. Her back was to him and she was retreating fast. He began to sprint after her, her golden hair beckoning him on like sunshine, vaulting over the gravestones and no matter how fast he runs she's always just too far away from him and his legs just won't move as fast as he wants them to, and that damn song is still thundering.
From crashing to my knees
His hands are raw and bleeding, and pain, awful, ripping, agonizing throughout his whole body the more he runs the more it hurts, but he can't stop, won't stop, feels like his insides are smashing up inside just gonna bust out through the frail covering of muscles and skin and bone, and he races past Angel? Wearing a cowboy hat and leaning against a headstone watching him with amusement.
"It must just eat you up that I got there first." He smiled as Spike stumbled.
"Not this time you didn't" Spike gasped as he sped past him but that makes no sense because he already knows that Angel has gotten to her, but none of that will matter if he could just reach her, trying to yell but nothing comes out, and she couldn't hear him over the damn music anyway but now she's closer, and she must be slowing down because he's not speeding up. Then she's so close, waiting for him? Did she know he was here all the time? Running up behind and she turns. He can see the crossbow in her hand, aimed right at his heart.
Finds his voice, wants to say something, anything, there must be words that exist to make her stop, make her love him, but can only stammer. "No. Don't . . .can't you give me some hope?"
Cold eyes, detached look with a touch of disdain on her face and can't she see how hard this is for him?
"It's not my fault. You're beneath me."
Hears the arrow released a split second before his stunned eyes tell his brain that she'd fired it and he doesn't know if it's hit or not, but feels himself falling, falling back,
I called you. I'm doing all right
landing on a bed, soft under his naked back and he is beneath her and she's riding him hard, and he's still so cold he grabs her hips and rolls them until she's under him, pounding into her,
No don't feel sorry for me really I'm alright
maybe trying to pound through her and he calls out "Xander".
I did a stupid thing last night
And opens his eyes to see blonde hair shorten and turn into brown, blue eyes darken to chocolate, breasts flatten and body lengthens and it's Xander, he's inside, Xander looking up at him with pain and lust he knows that look so well now
I'm one step away from crashing to my knees
and it's all so black, so dark, so lost in Xanders' hot flesh and wet soft mouth and somehow Xander must be passing his heat to Spike because it's overwhelming, so hot, can't imagine ever being cold again, and he's moving inside Xander, watching as he writhes under Spike
One step away from spilling my guts to you
and the daylight hits his eyes, makes him blink with pain, but he's not on fire, he's alone, cold and naked in the bed and Xander is standing by the door to his crypt, fully dressed and
You see there's this huge chunk of me missing
he's going to do something awful, Spike knows it but he can't move, can't speak can only watch in horror
I did a stupid thing last night
as Xander finishes pouring the petrol over himself and holds up the match. Looking at Spike sadly he lets it fall to the puddle of petrol at his feet and the flames burst out all around him
But it's the last time. Maybe tomorrow night will be the last time
and Xander is on fire, but not moving, not screaming only standing there, and Spike can smell the skin burning, but is paralysed as Xander dies before his eyes and he knows he's crying
One step away from crashing to my knees
He can hear Drusilla, and where was she hiding? She's yelling, "Open your eyes Spike! Open your eyes!"
One step away from spilling my guts to you
He wants to yell that his eyes are already open, but then understands what she means, and opens his eyes somewhere else, in another body, and he's still alone, cold and naked in his bed, but this time the music has stopped and he can move and he shoots upright in bed just as Buffy bursts into the crypt.
"Huh . ." What the *hell*?" Staring around wildly looking for Xander, he has to put him out, it might not be too late . . .
"Get dressed." Buffy snapped, folding her arms, tapping her foot impatiently.
"I . . .what?" Completely disorientated. Where the hell had Xander vanished to? Had he all burned up . . and Buffy was here and what the fuck was going on?
She rolled her eyes. "We need some information. Fifty in it for you, and if I were you . . ." She fixed him with a look that could bore a hole through a two inch plank. "I wouldn't push my luck."
"Information?" Slowly coming back to himself. It had been a dream. Just a dream. Xander hadn't set himself on fire, Dru was nowhere around and the real Buffy, who was much less fun than a dream version and who didn't morph into Xander was standing in front of him, bleating on about something.
She snapped her fingers at him. "Spike! Pay attention!"
"Uh . . .yeah. Information Slayer? What kind?" He slid his jeans on then untangled himself form the sheets.
"Demons. Black. Slimy, at least three of them moving into town. Do you know anything?"
Spike sniffed the air cautiously. It smelled like the sun had been down for a couple of hours, maybe about ten o' clock, that was unusual for him, he was generally awake early in the evening and vibrating with impatience, waiting for the sun to go down.
" Spike! " Buffy snapped suppressing a shudder. She had argued long with Giles about this asking Spike for information thing, Giles being the only one that knew about Spike supposedly - eww - being in love with her he had understood her feelings, but pointed out with perfect logic, (God she hated it when he did that) that Buffy had had her ass kicked by these demons and Spike probably knew what type this family of demons were that had apparently set their slimy black hearts on moving to the hellmouth, and more importantly what would kill them, and it would save valuable hours that would otherwise be spent on research while they killed with happy abandon.
It was times like this that Buffy really missed Anya. She would have identified the demons in a second. Instead she was here with Spike who kept drifting off on her . . .
Spike snapped back to the conversation. "Yeah, one eyed guys?"
'That's right."
"Skalor demons, you kill 'em by stabbing them in their eye with something iron. They sleep in the day, you've best to do it then, they hunt in their pack and they're strong bastards."
Later he would probably be ashamed of himself for coming out with a straight answer at once but he had other things to worry about, like Xander who wasn't dead, but he really would like to have that confirmed . . .
"You've not sent your little Scooby brats after them have you?" he asked trying to hide his horror at the thought.
Buffy rolled her eyes, "Research. And don't even think about trying to get more money out of them."
"Yeah. Speaking of which . . ."
She shook her head slightly in disgust, then shrugged her delicate shoulders and pulled the money out of her coat and threw it on the edge of the bed with a glare. "If you're lying . . ." She didn't finish the sentence but somehow Spike was in no doubt as to what she would do if he was.
"Hardly likely now is it?" He muttered picking up the money, beginning to count it.
Buffy turned to leave.
"Buffy . . ." Spike began, the words "be careful" ready to come from his mouth.
"No Spike." She snapped, her back still to him. "I don't want to talk to you. We're not friends. Just . . .don't, " she finished softly as she walked out, slamming the door behind her.
"Yeah you're welcome!" He called after her. For gods sake there was no need for her to act like he was a Chaos demon bent on destroying the Earth. He had only told her he was in love with her and she acted like it was the worst insult in the world, rude, hurtful, arrogant cow why the hell had he fallen for her again?
He slowly felt himself begin to return to normal. Not completely though, he was still so creeped out by the dream that having Buffy in the room with him, asking for help hadn't made his heart race the way it usually did. Well in a manner of speaking of course. Odd thing about vampires that. They didn't have the physical reactions to love they used to have, like heart racing, short of breath all the rest of it, but they still *felt* like they did. Just look at the way he panted when he was inside Xander . . .Spike cut that trial of thought off quickly.
But still Xander, suddenly the urge to see Xander to just check he was still alive was overpowering. Research she'd said, which meant the magic shop, he wouldn't go in, he'd had enough Scooby hatred for one night thank you so very much but he could look through the window. And yeah stupid to get so wound up over a dream but it had been a hell of a dream and fuck it he was only going to *look* at the whelp. No harm there. Right?
Continued in the next part
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