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Part of his physiotherapy was video games. 'Course, he couldn't afford much and the Poof's generosity didn't extend to technology, never mind the big plasma thingy in his office.
So, he'd had to use old-school tech and games from the eighties. He'd been fine with that fact until Harris had wandered over to check in on the invalid. Not that he'd want to impress the tosser, but...
He needn't have worried.
"Wow, an original Nintendo! I so lusted after one of those but, well, you know my parents. Not really focused on any technology advances after the microwave, and that was for reheating take-out."
As he'd said that, Xander had reached for one of the joysticks and plopped himself on the threadbare couch. "So, ready for a real challenge?"
That formed the pattern of the next few weeks. He wasn't sure where Xander was staying. He wouldn't say, and wouldn't let Spike walk him home; he just took cabs. When Spike pushed the topic, he replied, "You're healing. And it's not like this is Sunnydale."
The lad had a point, but it would be a shame to lose a mate, especially since Xander had somehow pulled ahead on points in their mid-way challenge. Couldn't have the wanker die before he'd beat him, now could he? Point of vamp pride here.
So far, Harris and Doyle hadn't crossed paths, through there'd been a few times when he'd found Harris waiting for him after a night of rough and tumble. And, even though it wasn't Sunnydale, he didn't want a Scooby lurking in his hallway. One night he tossed him a key saying, "Just make sure you bring the brewskis when you come over, ya?"
***********************************
He'd been having a civilized drink with the crew when Angel came down to the pub and broke the news. Peaches always did know how to kill a party.
So, Spike, who'd never had much to do with the dark-haired cheerleader, decided to bow out of the wake and head back to his basement. Wonder how long Doyle--no, Lindsey--paid the rent on it? Wouldn't do to get thrown out in the daylight.
Approaching his door, he heard a now-familiar string of curses, but raised his eyebrow as he recognized some African words in the mix.
Waltzing in, he saw Xander leaning against the couch, swearing at the flashing screen in front of him.
"What's up?"
"Dropped by to see how you were doing. Just warming up before our rematch. There is no way I'm letting another monkey beat me. Hey, you're later than usual."
"Bit of a busy day, mate. Life kinda went pear-shaped on me. Remember me mentioning that seer bloke?"
"The one helping you," and here Xander used the obnoxious air quotes, "'help the helpless?'"
"Yeah, that's the one. Well, I don't have a bleeding destiny after all. He was just trying to yank Angel's chain. Plus, the crew's a bit down. Seems their seer up and died on them, after pulling some mystic mojo to set Angel on his course. Am getting a bit tired of being sloppy seconds here."
"Wow, that's wow. So, no divine intervention? You can do as you please now?"
That comment earned Xander a slight growl. "Was always my own man; I go where I want."
"And you take what you please. Yup, I've seen the invoices Anya used to send you after a bit of 'taking.' Didn't you know she had security cameras in the storage areas?"
"Hmm… had always wondered about that. So, anyway, they managed to get rid of the git, so we were out for a bit of the good stuff when we got the news. The others all seemed broken up by the bird's death. Didn't remember you lot loving the Cordelia chit so."
Xander swung his head so that his eye pierced the vamp's, "What about Cordelia?"
"She was his seer, but the lass has been in a coma since last year. Was told she was evil, but that was just another of this Lindsey's mind games. Seems she had a job to do and then poof. Lorne'll let me know about a memorial service. Not sure why, never even wanted to bite the chit. Told the poof it was only a taste test."
As he was running on, he noticed that Xander had achieved the same expression as a deer they'd hit one night in the DeSoto. Xander remained unnaturally still; then slowly blinked, and began to ease away from Spike.
"No, not another one. Can't be. But is. Said so."
Tilting his head at the lad's even-more-than-usually incomprehensible babble, Spike noticed that the brunet's heart rate was up, but that his temperature was down, like he was actually in the first stages of a panic attack. Concerned, he moved towards Xander, saying, "Not sure I'm following you there, mate. Care to fill in some of the dozen blanks?"
Xander broke out of his trance to look at Spike. Still sitting on the floor, he blinked and began to slide away again, saying, "No, not safe. Can't hurt. Not again."
Spike huffed, "You're not going to hurt me, pet. You've been trying for years and haven't managed it yet. Not like anything's changed, ya?"
"Stay away, Spike. Gotta get out. Might be too late. No, no can't be." Xander continued a nonsensical chant as he squirmed away from where Spike was standing.
It was bloody annoying, was what it was. He'd been right pleased to see Harris had dropped by, but the lad was acting nuttier than Dru on a bad day, and that was saying something. Reasoning always worked so well in these situations, so Spike fell back on the tried and true.
Climbing on the sofa to get behind Xander, he began to speak in a low, soothing tone. He wasn't sure what he was muttering -- something like, "Got you, nothing's gonna hurt you, mate. Just stay still. It's okay." He splayed his legs to contain the now-shivering boy, and began to run his hands up and down his arms, trying to lend physical comfort.
As Xander's heartbeat slowly regained a normal rhythm, Spike leaned back on the couch, leaving his legs where they wereto give him space and to continue to provide comfort.
"What's that about, then, mate? Seen you take a lot of bad news and never saw you react like that. What set you off about this Cordelia bird?"
Xander's head was cradled in arms hugging his bent knees. He murmured something, then gave a sigh and lifted his head.
"Sorry about that, but it was news from left field. Kinda hadn't thought about Cordy in a while, but to find out. . . well, she'd been my first real girlfriend. Especially if you don't count the mantis lady or the Inca mummy. It's just yet another person I've cared for is dead."
Spike raised his left eyebrow at that comment and said, "You do remember you're in the saving the world business, right? Tends to lead to casualties every now and then. And what they hell were you doing with a praying mantis? They can out-big-bad most of the big bads. Not me, but--"
That comment earned the chuckle that Spike had hoped for.
Xander took another breath and said, "Don't worry, your rep is safe with me. Buffy beat it with bat sonar, and I saw you withstand the aural assault of *NSYNC. On repeat."
This time, Spike shivered. "Don't remind me. The things you do for the ones you love, ya?"
"Ya," sighed Xander. "Think I should get going, you having had the busy day and all."
On the face of it, it made sense. But Spike rarely relied on surface intel. Xander's heart was pumping fast again and there was a change in his scent, something both resolved and resigned. It beat the hell out of the fear that had been pouring off of him, but didn't jive with his casual comments.
"Still a little juiced here. Why not stick around for a bit, see if we can't get to the next level on this thing. Think Doyle, umm Lindsey -- oh hell what's his name -- may have left one or two bottles of a palatable brand." He didn't think Xander was as settled as he tried to present, and Spike was a bit worried by the maelstrom of emotions he'd scented.
A sad smile crossed Xander's face, "Sure, why not? Couldn't hurt, and not like it's near your bedtime."
"That's the spirit! Why don't you warm up the game and I'll grab the beers."
They were mid-game when Spike raised a point that had been bugging him since Xander's fit. He'd debated whether to let it slide, but figured that's what the Scoobies would have done, and they'd shown him time and time again that he wasn't a Scooby. He turned to Xander and asked, "So, what did you mean, not another one?"
That question caused Xander's Mario to be run over by a barrel. Upon receiving the expected glare, Spike smirked and took his turn at the controls. Keeping his eyes on the screen, he also repeated the question.
Dropping his head a moment, Xander folded into himself. Spike heard his heart speed up to almost hummingbird levels before dropping off to merely that of a scared rabbit. Xander took a sip from his beer and, staring straight ahead, began to speak.
"Seems like there are two consistencies in my love life, such as it is. Either I'm playing a demon magnet, like with the Inca mummy and that one who tried to offer me to the First, or the people I care about die. Buffy, now Cordy, and then guessing that Anya falls in both camps. Thinking I'm kinda a reverse black widow, so what's the point?"
Spike stared at the game, but let his peripheral vision pick up the dejection in Xander's slumped shoulders. Well, that thought process might explain the resignation that surrounded the lad, but not the resolution. And a resigned Xander just didn't sit well with him. This was the boy who, when offered up as a snack, had cursed and ranted at Angel while struggling against his fate. He'd seen him put up with a wide variety of slave-wage jobs without complaint and get himself out of the basement of doom. Xander did a lot of things, stupid things, but giving up was never one of them. Had to engage him.
"What about post-Sunnydale? Deepest darkest Africa and all that? Nice looking bloke like you, what with the eye patch and adventure gear, should have been beating them off with a stick, ya? And, hate to brag, but I'm now two levels ahead of you."
"You love to brag. You were so keen on this destiny thingy," a slightly more lively Xander responded, then paused a moment. "Oh, sorry, Spike," he continued, a little chagrined, "I guess you'll have to play knight errant rather than champion. S'okay though, 'cause thinking you really wouldn't wear anyone's colors."
"When did you brush up on your medieval history?"
"Again, with the whole cable-free Sahara, read whatever came my way, including Ivanhoe. Beat A Knight's Tale hands down."
"So, Africa, any girls? Any guys?" Spike was careful to keep his tone casually interested, not to stress any of the words. Being guys, they hadn't actually discussed Xander's "conversion", but he'd let slip a few comments that let Spike know it wasn't a completely taboo topic.
"Was in the field most of the time, tracking down the newbie slayers. And, well, non-work-related sociability wasn't my goal. A few things happened, but it was more wham bam than lovey-dovey. No last names, no questions, no breakfast the next day."
"Can lead to a proper shag that way, but some things require a bit more trust between the parties, ya?"
"It's bad enough I dragged Cordy into the quirk that is my life and she ended up in coma and died. Don't really want to do that to someone else. And, keeping it within the 'family,' well, smaller pool to fish from. So…" he shrugged. "And what about you? I mean, you've been fullbodied for a few months and I don't see the Buffster here. So?" Xander twisted on the sofa to face Spike, who was still glaring at the screen while fiddling with the controls.
"Was able to do some thinking when I wasn't a ghost. Always seemed to be following some skirt and, well, then I couldn't. If I'd been able to get away from LA at first... might have been a different story. But..."
"You, the most alive dead guy I know, have been holding out? For what?"
It was Spike's turn to drop his head and mutter.
"Not blessed with the vamp hearing here, what was that?"
"Tried with Harm, but my mind wasn't there and, well, then she started bleeding from her eyes."
"Ick, even for you that's got to be a turn-off."
"What do you mean, even for me? I am quite the catch, I'll have you know." Spike did a mock preen, "Always able to choose the best looking of the lot."
"And you were with Harm, back in the Dale, why?"
"Way too sober to talk about this. Just 'cause I acted the ninny, doesn't mean I want to relive it."
"Hey now, I showed you my stupid errors, only fair that you show me yours."
Was Xander intentionally giving him good lines? A quick glance confirmed that a bit of a blush was on his cheeks as well as a scent of… hmm, that did put a different spin on the matter.
"Playing doctor now, are we?"
"Can't listen for your heartbeat but..."
"Watch it there, Xander, a body might think you were making a pass, well, in a clumsy Hugh Grant kind of way." Or that's what he was going to say, but, turning to address Xander, he found his lips covered with warm beer-soaked lips.
It had been so long that his body went into automatic pilot. His eyes drifted closed. He matched the gentle pressure and groaned as he felt a tentative tongue start to outline his lower lip. It continued its exploration, pushing against the seam of Spike's mouth. More, must have more, Spike thought as his hands dropped the console to become tangled in Xander's hair, ensuring that he wouldn't retreat.
And he focused on the only important thing: lips on lips. Xander's warm tongue glided across sensitive skin and traced the bow of his upper lip, pulling another groan out of him, then again traced the opening of his lips, seeking entrance. Unthinkingly, Spike obliged. He was filled with the taste of imported beer and something hitherto undefined, a sharpness, a saltiness, a touch of bitter, and a dollop of sweet: Xander.
Bugger me! He was kissing Xander!
He tried to move away, only to find himself trapped by warm arms -- one around his waist and the other stroking his hair. As if aware of his reaction, the brushing movement slowed down but remained firm, reassuring. Fingers combed the back of his neck, where the hair gel wasn't lacquered in his bad-boy best.
Warmth was seeping into him where Xander's arms embraced him and where his hands were surrounded in Xander's hair. But where their lips were slip-sliding over each other, it wasn't warmth but heat pouring into him like a shot of whiskey, filling him with a glow. Following on the tail of that thought was one word: Ponce.
Then he stopped thinking, letting this unlooked-for, yet not unthought-of, experience sweep over him.
Suddenly the warmth, the solidity, the lips, pulled away from him, extracting themselves from his hands.
"Sorry, just had to. Going now. Bye, Spike."
Spike watched Xander's fleeing back, thinking What the bloody hell was that all about, then?