Touched (Part 1 of 8) Completed

(Characters: Not mine, Joss' - I'm just playin' with 'em)


Spike was innocently watching the telly when his phone rang. Bloody hell. It had to be the Slayer. Only Buffy telephoned him at this time of the night. Make that... only Buffy telephoned him, period.

He put the phone to his ear. “Why don’t you ever call during the adverts?”

“Uh... don’t watch hokey soaps? Spike, need your help with something.”

Spike gave a resigned sighed and shut the television off. What else was new. “Where do you want to meet and whose arse are we kicking?”

“Well... it’s more a scooby retrieval mission.”

“A what? Cryptic doesn’t become you. Spit it out, yeah?”

“It’s Xander. Need you to bring him home.”

“I think he made it pretty clear that he went off to find himself.” A few weeks had passed since the day the boy dropped the bomb that he was gay and the only person who’d looked shell shocked was Xander himself. All his friends had taken it in stride. Spike didn’t know what the big deal was. Sure he made a few good poofter jokes, but so what, he didn’t mean anything by them.

“Yeah I know. And he found himself alright. I mean he found more of himself than he thought. So... needs help getting home.” Buffy paused. “He’s outside of Dallas.”

“Did he forget the way home?” Spike barely noticed she didn’t answer. “I’m not playing baby sitter, and think about it, if you’d just ‘come out,’ would you really want to spend a few days with me? No you wouldn’t. Look, why don’t you send someone else?”

Buffy glanced over at Giles who was holding an ice pack to his forehead, and resting his casted leg on the coffee table. “Tried that. Didn’t work so good. We need someone unbreakable to go, and I can’t do it right now, so it’s you.”

“What do you mean unbreak... ah... Slayer? Hello?” All he got out of her was an address and a ‘good luck.’ This couldn’t be good.

*

Days later, Spike pulled into the motel’s parking lot. He’d wanted to take a plane, get here, grab the boy, and get back. But no. For reasons Buffy hadn’t explained, she’d insisted he take the car. Actually, she hadn’t been around to explain, but Dawn had arrived shortly after his phone call with the Slayer. She’d given him the keys and message and though he’d done his best to brow beat her into giving him more information, all she’d known was that Giles hadn’t succeeded in getting Xander back, and had needed medical attention. That made him wonder if Xander had shacked up with yet another demon...

Except for the flashing red light that screamed “Bronco Motel,” the place looked dark, quiet, and down-market. The boy probably didn’t have the cash to find a better place. The two story, L shaped building, looked like a hundred other motels he’d seen along the route. He wouldn’t be surprised if they rented the rooms out by the hour.

Slamming the car door shut behind him, he lit up, took a long drag, then strode to Xander’s room. Pounding on the door didn’t get him anywhere. He stilled and listened. His senses told him the room was empty. Why was nothing simple anymore?

The relative quiet of the night was broken for a moment, and he turned his head to see a bar across the street. The sound of country music drifted out as someone left the place, then the door closed, muting it again. What were the chances?

Minutes later, he’d crossed the street and was pushing the door open. The bleached blond, leather-clad, all-city vampire drew looks from the patrons. A lot of them. Some stared coolly ... as if to say he didn’t belong, others just gaped, and then there were the interested ones that followed him around. But he was on a mission. Find Xander, and then get the bloody hell away from the whining tones of country music.

Was that...? It was. Xander, sitting at the corner of the bar, beer bottle in hand, ten gallon hat on top of his head and ... he wasn’t bloody well wearing... Spike’s eyes widened when the boy turned on the stool to reveal he really was wearing them... or something like them. Jeans with fake leather chaps, that’s what they were. If he liked Texas this much, getting him to leave was going to be tougher than Spike had imagined. There would be much screaming and yelling and tying-up.

Spike vaguely noticed a big portly cowboy helped another cowboy onto a mechanical bull. Xander, on the other hand, seemed to be paying such close attention to the rider that he jumped when Spike clapped him on shoulder. “You’re looking ...” his light blue gaze sparkling with amusement as it traveled up and down Xander’s strange outfit, “...rather gay.”

“Fuck off Spike, you don’t want to do this, you really don’t.” He took a swig of his drink. “Giles couldn’t help, and you can only make things worse.

“Offered you tweed, did he? Might have been a better choice.”

“Huh?” Xander looked down at his clothed, and flushed a little. “I just wondered what I’d look like and then poof...”

“You mean poofter. That’s the word you’re looking for.”

“Argh... you SO wouldn’t understand.” He gritted his teeth. “Look... just beat it... go. Before something happens.”


“Something... like what?” Spike settled down and made himself comfortable on the barstool next to the apparently newly melodramatic gay-Xander. He hated guys who just came out of the closet. It was inevitable, they had to try to fit into the stereotype until they either tired of it or found themselves. How long would Xander’s loud phase last?

“Something that could end up getting you hurt. Didn’t they tell you?” Xander looked moodily at the vampire.

“They were too bloody busy to tell good old Spike anything. So Harris, why don’t you be a good boy and tell me?”

The stool unexpectedly shook under Spike’s ass. He frowned and looked over to where a line dance was forming. They weren’t stomping that hard. It wobbled around under his ass again, causing him to grip the bar top to steady himself.

“I’m a .....”

“What? Speak up, boy.” Spike raised his brow. “Can’t be any worse than your last announcement, yeah?” There went his stood again. “Bloody hell!” He stood up, and looked down at it. “What were you saying?”

“I said I’m a –“

Big Johnny, the portly cowboy and part owner of the bar came over to Xander. “Slim’s been on it for four and a half minutes. He told me that if he wasn’t pitched by this time, to tell you to get ready to fork over his money. How much did you bet him this time?”

“More than I have...”

“Then take it outside, I don’t want nuthing broke in here.”

The minute big Johnny walked away, Spike leaned close again. “You’re a what...”

“Oh man... he’s gonna win...”

“Harris, I’m going to beat you to a pulp if you don’t... what the–“

The mechanical bull went wild. It swung and bucked and twisted into configurations it wasn’t built for... until Slim was tossed clear to the other side of the room and slammed into the wall.

“Oh shit!” Xander winced. “My fault...oh fuck oh fuck oh fuck... I hope he’s okay....”

“You won. Good on you. Now...” Spike gripped Xander’s collar and pulled him close. “Pay attention, yeah... what were you trying to tell me?”

Xander swallowed. Up close and personal, he could smell leather, smoke and whatever it was that gave Spike his unique scent. His head started to swim with thoughts, and that was bad.

Spike snapped his fingers. “Harris? Are you listening?”

“What? Uh...oh...yeah, listening.” Fuck... please don’t let it happen now. Xander swallowed again. “I’m a warlock.”

“No you’re not...”

“Yes... yes I am. That’s why Slim owes me money now and... you’re looking at me like you don’t believe me. I wish it weren’t true...”

Laughing, Spike let him go and sat back down. “Bollocks. You’ll have to try harder to get me with your silly jokes.”

“It’s not a joke. Giles got hurt. And ... and when I took the bus trying to get home, it got into an accident, I burned down the last motel I was in and...”

“If you’re a warlock, you’re not a very good one, are you?”

Xander gritted his teeth at the jeering tone. “No...no Spike, I’m not a very good one.”

At that exact moment, all four legs of the metal stool broke off, landing Spike on the ground. This time, there had been no warning shake. Cursing loudly, he got up, then struck a pose against the bar, looking for all the world as if he hadn’t drawn teetering laughs seconds ago. “Right... then you are good.”

“No, no, no... I’m not.” Xander brushed the hair out of his eyes. “That’s just it, I didn’t mean to do it. I have no control.”

“Well my arse says otherwise.” Spike motioned the bar tender for a beer, and took a swig. “Go on.”

Did he really have to mention his ass? Xander watched in open-mouthed disbelief as Spike rubbed his ass as if to make a point. This wasn’t good. This was SO not good. No thinking about Spike’s ass, or body or... anything.

“Right... the story. Come on Harris, I drove a long way.”

“Just go home,” Xander looked down. He had no desire to go through the entire embarrassing story again. Especially with Spike. Especially when he was noticing Spike in ways he probably shouldn’t. As if that hadn’t been one of the main reason’s he’d left Sunnydale...

“Buffy wants me to get you home, and that’s what I’m going to do. Whether you tell your story or not. I’m thinking you’d best tell me.” There was a long silence, punctuated by the whoops and other sounds made by the dancers. And that infernal twangy country music which made Spike want to strangle someone. And if Xander didn’t spit out his story, the boy’s neck might make a good place to start.

Xander felt the warmth of a flush creep up his cheeks and neck. “After the first time I... you know... with a guy...”

“Wrestled?”

“No,” Xander looked up and saw the twinkle in the blue eyes staring at him. “Stop playing with me Spike, it’s dangerous. And stop looking at me like you don’t believe me.”

“Get on with the story.” Who did the little pup think he was scaring?

“Anyway... afterwards, it was like some floodgates opened. Suddenly, magic happening all over the place. I mean... I have a thought, and sometimes what I’m thinking just happens.”

“That’s a handy trick.”

“Yeah....no. I imagine it, and it happens...even if I don’t want it to, or... sometimes it happens backwards and.... well I think of a lot of things, not seriously think, but like ‘what ifs’ and... Not good when they happen and I ... you know...”

“Now you’re scaring me. With your ability not to make any sense.”

“Jumbled thoughts, jumbled things happening, that’s the problem,” he answered seriously. “Giles did some research. It turns out I’m a Jagard warlock. Must be in the genes somewhere,” he shrugged. “So... usually, Jagard warlocks get their powers when they go into puberty. Hey, I didn’t think I’d ever use that word again. Looks like Health class came in handy.”

“Harris, stop wandering off topic.”

“Oh... yeah...so. It missed me at that age, and now that I’m... coming of age in a different way, bam! And it looks like I’ll gain control over it eventually, sort of how you gain control over your body when you’re a teen.”

“Well that’s good.” Spike raised a brow at the way Xander shook his head. “No?”

“I had wet dreams until I was...” He whispered his age.

“That’s only a few years ago! You were...”

“Yeah,” Xander cringed. “Hope I get control faster this time.”

“So what happened to Giles?”

“He was... beat up.” Xander bit his lip and hoped against hope that Spike would stop that line of questioning.

“You hit him?”

“Uh... no... it was Little Johnny.”

Spike narrowed his gaze toward the portly cowboy. “What happened? I thought it was you that injured him.”

“Well yes, and no. I mean, I did wonder...” Xander put his thumb against his index finger and held it up, “...only for the teensiest, itsiest, weeniest, nano-second known to man, what it would be like if Giles bent over Little Johnny and then–“

“Bloody hell,” Spike shuddered. “I feel unclean now. Why did you want that to happen?!?”

“Oh I didn’t? I just wondered and then...poof...”

“Poof is right.” Spike chuckled. “You didn’t get a photo, did you...”

“It’s not funny. He broke Giles’ leg, and hit his head.”

“Well then, that’s why they sent me. I don’t break,” he gave a smug smile, leaned across Xander to reach the bowl of pretzels and added. “Don’t worry Harris, I’ll get you home.”

Spike’s scent assaulted Xander’s senses again. He swallowed hard, and tried... tried his best not to imagine Spike with that leather duster and nothing else on under.

One minute he was sitting relaxed and feeling very confident, the next, Spike jerked up, eyes wide with disbelief. He looked down and saw a pair of pale legs visible under his leather coat. His legs! Not only was he completely free of his leather pants and underwear, the bare skin of his chest was pressing against the leather duster. “You’re not... you’d bloody well better not be...”

“I’m ... uh...” Mortified, Xander tried, he tried hard not to think of Spike. Spike who he’d always secretly admired. How he’d thought it was because he wished that in some ways he were like the vampire. Only now, he knew it wasn’t that he’d wanted to be Spike, it was because he wanted to actually kiss him and touch him and... no no...not going there...

A ripping sound alerted Spike. He looked at his shoulder and saw string unraveling at the seams of his leather duster. “Stop it... Xander... Harris...” his voice held a warning tone, which turned panicked when the sides of the duster started to disintegrate.

“Oh my God... oh my.... Spike I...” Long ago, Xander had seen the vampire’s body hidden under a thin sheet. That had been the beginning of the end of his sham existence, as he’d been able to think of nothing but how the vampire would have looked without the sheet. But now wasn’t the time... definitely not the time. Desperately, he tried not to think of Spike’s body.

“You’re dead!” Spike turned tail and ran out of the bar as his leather coat fell to the ground in shreds. He’d never forget the laughter and the gasps. Ever.

“Oh... shit!” Xander felt like the air had been sucked out of him as he slouched onto the bar.


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