1 4 3
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,176
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
3
Views:
3,176
Reviews:
4
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Disclaimer:
I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.
Conversation in the Bar
Author: c_woodhaven
Title: 1 4 3
Chapter: 1/3
Pairing/Characters: Spike / Xander
Rating: NC-17
Feedback/Concrit: Yes, but please be gentle. I'm new and fragile.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, just playing in Joss' sandbox.
Warnings: Mention of character death, m/m slash, rimming, anal, lusty grindage
Summary: Xander's been left at the altar, and Spike discovers that they have something in common.
Conversation in the Bar
“You ever think about getting married?” Xander gestured vaguely with his beer bottle.
“What?”
“You know, before?”
“Unlike now, when I’d likely burst into flame during the ceremony?”
“Well, you know, you could do the Jewish thing – break the glass…” Xander broke off when Spike gave him an incredulous look “Anyway, we’re not talking about your potential flambé. Did you ever think about it?”
They were sitting in a nearly deserted hotel bar. Spike had promised Dawn he’d check up on Xander, and make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous. So he’d reluctantly come down, and found Harris, sitting in the bar. Jacket slung across the back of the padded chair, tie askew – ordering another beer. He’d signaled for one himself, and sat down in the adjoining chair.
“What are you nattering about?” Spike asked impatiently, taking a swig of his own beer. He’d thought this was only Xander’s second beer. He had no intention of joining Harris’ pity party – not even to keep Dawn off his back.
“Just curious if you had ever thought about it, you know, before the death and mayhem”
“Is there some reason you’re asking me this, Harris, other than the obvious?”
Xander was quiet for a few moments. Then he started distractedly picking at the label of his beer. “I never did” he said finally. Turning his head he caught the surprised look on Spike’s face. “What? You look surprised?”
“Well, yeah” Spike said, gesturing at the small jewelry box that sat forlornly off to the side, keeping the stale pretzels company.
Xander glanced at the box and then corners of his mouth turned up in a strange little smile.
“Look, Harris, maybe I should go up and get one of the girls?” Spike started to get up.
Xander laid a warm hand on his shoulder “Look, sorry man. Stay. Open bar, get sloshed on someone else’s tab… ”
“Your tab,” Spike corrected, sitting back down. “Never thought you’d be buying me a drink”
Xander smiled that strange smile again.
They sat in an almost companionable silence for awhile. The bartender stopped by to drop off a couple of fresh bottles.
“You know your bartender is a Krelx demon?”
“Huh, that would explain why he was so cheap. How can you tell?” Xander peered down the bar, looking for horns or a tail.
“Clan tattoo on his wrist, ink's mixed with virgin blood to enhance their empathic ability. He must have had it done recently, I can smell it from here” Spike paused for a moment then asked “Why’d you want to know?”
“He mentioned something about my first-born son, I thought he was joking. I keep forgetting we’re on a Hellmouth.”
“No, ‘bout the other thing…marriage?” Spike said it in an offhand way, but Xander could see the tension in his body.
“Like I said, I never really thought about marriage. You know how girls seem to have every detail of their weddings planned before they turn 14? I never thought about it. It was just something that everybody did. The only thing that filtered up was that I was going to be better than my folks, which wasn’t much of a commitment.”
Spike nodded, remembering the frequent drunken shouting matches.
Xander continued, “Then there was Anya, and the world was ending, again, and she was so needy. And I needed to be needed. I thought we were perfect. But I was going through the motions. Even after I left her at the altar, I never gave up the thought of the picture postcard. Because that’s all it was, a Kodak moment: Xander at Disney, Xander eating the world’s largest hotdog, Xander getting married.
“And then today, again with the wedding that never happened. I thought so much had changed, but really, nothing has for me. I was still chasing the picture postcard.
“So I was wondering if it was a guy thing, or just me?” Xander finished, and took a sip of his beer.
Spike looked at him for a minute, as if sizing him up. Then he abruptly reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter, and lit up. Before he’d even snapped the lighter shut, the bartender dropped off an ashtray, and slipped away. He inhaled deeply, and then said “Things were different then,” before exhaling the bluish smoke.
Xander rolled his eye.
“For all you know, Harris, I was married to a dozy cow of a wife who squirted out dozens of rug rats”.
Xander chuckled, “Who are you kidding, Spike, you turned your mom.”
Spike would have been seriously pissed, but the look on Xander’s face was full of mirth as opposed to maliciousness. “Git,” Spike said, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette.
“And what exactly is a git, anyway? You English people have seriously lame insults.” Again, this was said mildly.
“Are you possessed?”
“Um, not as far as I can tell. Usually though, I can’t tell,” Xander paused thinking for a second, continuing “Or if I can tell, I lie about it.”
"We’re having a conversation. Don’t you find that a bit,” Spike paused, looking for the right word “odd?”
“Odder than the fact that I’m willingly sitting on a Hellmouth being served by a demon recently tattooed in virgin blood, after being jilted at the altar by a slayer who once tried to kill me?”
“She tried to kill you?”
“High school, old news…Don’t change the subject”
Spike looked at him exasperatedly, “You hate me, Harris”
“I don’t hate you.”
Spikes eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.
Xander turned to look at Spike earnestly. “Standing on that hill, facing Willow down, I thought ‘this is it.’ Every time she tore into me, I thought it was going to be the last time. Even losing my eye didn’t hurt as bad. But I was ok with it, because it felt right. I knew that I was going to die, but Willow would make it, and the world would be ok.
“The absolute clarity in that split second when you realize you’ve chosen to stay and die. Knowing for certain that your choice is not about being heroic, or dramatic – but because it’s right. You’re so sure that this is how you were meant to go out. This was how the movie ended.” Xander paused for a second, and then continued, voice becoming a bit more subdued “But somehow it didn’t end. And you’re left feeling like, even though you saved the day, your sacrifice was somehow less – tarnished because you survived.
“That’s why I don’t hate you, Spike. We weren’t chosen. We chose.”
Spike was floored. He remembered the gut wrenching feeling he’d had when he realized he’d rematerialized in Angel’s office. It had been a bit easier to take when he’d been all ghostly, but once he’d become solid again, the feeling of ‘no longer worthy’ had been the main reason he hadn’t gone to Buffy. It never occurred to him that Harris had gone through the same thing.
Xander drained the last of his beer, and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Bar’s paid up for another couple of hours. Stay, have a few drinks on me.” He grinned “It’ll be like when you used to steal my wallet and go to the Bronze.”
Xander slid his chair back from the bar and grabbed his rumpled tux jacket off the back of the chair. He placed his hand on Spike’s shoulder, “Thanks for coming down. I know Dawn forced you, but I appreciate it. Tell them that I’m leaving first thing in the morning and I’ll call when my flight lands.”
If Xander’s hand lingered more than necessary, Spike didn’t notice it.
When he reached out to stub out his cigarette, Spike noticed that Xander had left the jewelry box on the bar.
He turned and called out “Xander, you forgot…”
Xander cut him off “Don’t need it. Keep it. Sell it. Whatever.” He didn’t even turn around, just continued walking out the door.
Spike picked it the box and cracked it open. Nestled in the padding was a wide, unadorned titanium band, something practical to wear while slaying. On a whim, Spike plucked it out of the padding and examined the underside of the band, where he found the numbers 1 4 3 etched in elegant script. Frowning, he put the ring back in the box.
When he left the bar, he slipped the box into his pocket. He figured he’d give it back to Xander at some point, after things had calmed down a bit. They were bound to run into each other sometime.
The number bugged him though, 1 4 3. What the hell did that mean?
Title: 1 4 3
Chapter: 1/3
Pairing/Characters: Spike / Xander
Rating: NC-17
Feedback/Concrit: Yes, but please be gentle. I'm new and fragile.
Disclaimer: Not mine, no money made, just playing in Joss' sandbox.
Warnings: Mention of character death, m/m slash, rimming, anal, lusty grindage
Summary: Xander's been left at the altar, and Spike discovers that they have something in common.
Conversation in the Bar
“You ever think about getting married?” Xander gestured vaguely with his beer bottle.
“What?”
“You know, before?”
“Unlike now, when I’d likely burst into flame during the ceremony?”
“Well, you know, you could do the Jewish thing – break the glass…” Xander broke off when Spike gave him an incredulous look “Anyway, we’re not talking about your potential flambé. Did you ever think about it?”
They were sitting in a nearly deserted hotel bar. Spike had promised Dawn he’d check up on Xander, and make sure he didn’t do anything dangerous. So he’d reluctantly come down, and found Harris, sitting in the bar. Jacket slung across the back of the padded chair, tie askew – ordering another beer. He’d signaled for one himself, and sat down in the adjoining chair.
“What are you nattering about?” Spike asked impatiently, taking a swig of his own beer. He’d thought this was only Xander’s second beer. He had no intention of joining Harris’ pity party – not even to keep Dawn off his back.
“Just curious if you had ever thought about it, you know, before the death and mayhem”
“Is there some reason you’re asking me this, Harris, other than the obvious?”
Xander was quiet for a few moments. Then he started distractedly picking at the label of his beer. “I never did” he said finally. Turning his head he caught the surprised look on Spike’s face. “What? You look surprised?”
“Well, yeah” Spike said, gesturing at the small jewelry box that sat forlornly off to the side, keeping the stale pretzels company.
Xander glanced at the box and then corners of his mouth turned up in a strange little smile.
“Look, Harris, maybe I should go up and get one of the girls?” Spike started to get up.
Xander laid a warm hand on his shoulder “Look, sorry man. Stay. Open bar, get sloshed on someone else’s tab… ”
“Your tab,” Spike corrected, sitting back down. “Never thought you’d be buying me a drink”
Xander smiled that strange smile again.
They sat in an almost companionable silence for awhile. The bartender stopped by to drop off a couple of fresh bottles.
“You know your bartender is a Krelx demon?”
“Huh, that would explain why he was so cheap. How can you tell?” Xander peered down the bar, looking for horns or a tail.
“Clan tattoo on his wrist, ink's mixed with virgin blood to enhance their empathic ability. He must have had it done recently, I can smell it from here” Spike paused for a moment then asked “Why’d you want to know?”
“He mentioned something about my first-born son, I thought he was joking. I keep forgetting we’re on a Hellmouth.”
“No, ‘bout the other thing…marriage?” Spike said it in an offhand way, but Xander could see the tension in his body.
“Like I said, I never really thought about marriage. You know how girls seem to have every detail of their weddings planned before they turn 14? I never thought about it. It was just something that everybody did. The only thing that filtered up was that I was going to be better than my folks, which wasn’t much of a commitment.”
Spike nodded, remembering the frequent drunken shouting matches.
Xander continued, “Then there was Anya, and the world was ending, again, and she was so needy. And I needed to be needed. I thought we were perfect. But I was going through the motions. Even after I left her at the altar, I never gave up the thought of the picture postcard. Because that’s all it was, a Kodak moment: Xander at Disney, Xander eating the world’s largest hotdog, Xander getting married.
“And then today, again with the wedding that never happened. I thought so much had changed, but really, nothing has for me. I was still chasing the picture postcard.
“So I was wondering if it was a guy thing, or just me?” Xander finished, and took a sip of his beer.
Spike looked at him for a minute, as if sizing him up. Then he abruptly reached into his jacket pocket, pulled out his cigarettes and a lighter, and lit up. Before he’d even snapped the lighter shut, the bartender dropped off an ashtray, and slipped away. He inhaled deeply, and then said “Things were different then,” before exhaling the bluish smoke.
Xander rolled his eye.
“For all you know, Harris, I was married to a dozy cow of a wife who squirted out dozens of rug rats”.
Xander chuckled, “Who are you kidding, Spike, you turned your mom.”
Spike would have been seriously pissed, but the look on Xander’s face was full of mirth as opposed to maliciousness. “Git,” Spike said, tapping the ash off the end of his cigarette.
“And what exactly is a git, anyway? You English people have seriously lame insults.” Again, this was said mildly.
“Are you possessed?”
“Um, not as far as I can tell. Usually though, I can’t tell,” Xander paused thinking for a second, continuing “Or if I can tell, I lie about it.”
"We’re having a conversation. Don’t you find that a bit,” Spike paused, looking for the right word “odd?”
“Odder than the fact that I’m willingly sitting on a Hellmouth being served by a demon recently tattooed in virgin blood, after being jilted at the altar by a slayer who once tried to kill me?”
“She tried to kill you?”
“High school, old news…Don’t change the subject”
Spike looked at him exasperatedly, “You hate me, Harris”
“I don’t hate you.”
Spikes eyebrows nearly disappeared into his hairline.
Xander turned to look at Spike earnestly. “Standing on that hill, facing Willow down, I thought ‘this is it.’ Every time she tore into me, I thought it was going to be the last time. Even losing my eye didn’t hurt as bad. But I was ok with it, because it felt right. I knew that I was going to die, but Willow would make it, and the world would be ok.
“The absolute clarity in that split second when you realize you’ve chosen to stay and die. Knowing for certain that your choice is not about being heroic, or dramatic – but because it’s right. You’re so sure that this is how you were meant to go out. This was how the movie ended.” Xander paused for a second, and then continued, voice becoming a bit more subdued “But somehow it didn’t end. And you’re left feeling like, even though you saved the day, your sacrifice was somehow less – tarnished because you survived.
“That’s why I don’t hate you, Spike. We weren’t chosen. We chose.”
Spike was floored. He remembered the gut wrenching feeling he’d had when he realized he’d rematerialized in Angel’s office. It had been a bit easier to take when he’d been all ghostly, but once he’d become solid again, the feeling of ‘no longer worthy’ had been the main reason he hadn’t gone to Buffy. It never occurred to him that Harris had gone through the same thing.
Xander drained the last of his beer, and set the empty bottle on the counter. “Bar’s paid up for another couple of hours. Stay, have a few drinks on me.” He grinned “It’ll be like when you used to steal my wallet and go to the Bronze.”
Xander slid his chair back from the bar and grabbed his rumpled tux jacket off the back of the chair. He placed his hand on Spike’s shoulder, “Thanks for coming down. I know Dawn forced you, but I appreciate it. Tell them that I’m leaving first thing in the morning and I’ll call when my flight lands.”
If Xander’s hand lingered more than necessary, Spike didn’t notice it.
When he reached out to stub out his cigarette, Spike noticed that Xander had left the jewelry box on the bar.
He turned and called out “Xander, you forgot…”
Xander cut him off “Don’t need it. Keep it. Sell it. Whatever.” He didn’t even turn around, just continued walking out the door.
Spike picked it the box and cracked it open. Nestled in the padding was a wide, unadorned titanium band, something practical to wear while slaying. On a whim, Spike plucked it out of the padding and examined the underside of the band, where he found the numbers 1 4 3 etched in elegant script. Frowning, he put the ring back in the box.
When he left the bar, he slipped the box into his pocket. He figured he’d give it back to Xander at some point, after things had calmed down a bit. They were bound to run into each other sometime.
The number bugged him though, 1 4 3. What the hell did that mean?