Tainted Returns

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Chapter Seventeen

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Spike followed Xander, not sure when, exactly, hell had frozen over. He was sure it had, however, because Xander was acting most unXanderlike. It was . . . unsettling.

Arousing, don't you mean?

Spike growled under his breath, really beginning to hate that inner voice. And there was Willy's, the place he'd just spent 45 minutes in, suffering through the third most humiliating experience of his existence. Why the hell was he back here? Oh, right, because the pillock, known as the slayer's White Knight, had insisted.

You didn't have to follow.

"Sod off!" he muttered quietly, speaking to no one but himself. I'm tired, I'm hungry, and I just don't have the energy to fight against this shit any longer. The final shock of the night, he received as Xander Harris simply stormed into Willy's, a bar full of vampires and assorted demons without so much as a look left or right, heading straight for the bar itself -- and the bartender. Harris was either completely insane -- Drusilla level insane -- or the idiot trusted him to watch his back.

Spike frowned, equally pleased and pissed off at that thought, not entirely certain which feeling should take precidence. He couldn't deny that it felt good, however, at least to himself.

"Willy!" Xander growled, and to Spike's surprise, it was a rather impressive growl. Almost didn't sound human. "What's this I hear about you not serving Spike?"

Spike bristled at the human's easily carrying words, wincing as several of the bar's patrons noted it as well, smirking in response. Bloody big mouthed prat! he thought spitefully.

Willy simply shrugged the boy off. "My customer base is made up of demons. I abide by their rules. They say you own him, which means he can't conduct his own business. Sorry, guy."

Spike growled low in his chest. This was just what he'd wanted to avoid, a repeat performance. Surprisingly, the customers present seemed happy enough to just watch the night's 'entertainment'. Spike, on the other hand, wasn't so happy; though, he was revelling in the intense smells the boy was putting off, an incredibly arousing mix of lust, anger, and something indefinable, something that seemed inherently Xander.

He clamped down on that. Spike didn't know what all Xander was planning, but he wasn't going to get caught up in it all again. He was already in too deep to get back out easily. The last thing he needed was to get in deeper. He was leaving town. He didn't even know why he'd let Xander talk him into coming here. It wouldn't make any difference in the long run. Jerking his attention back to Willy and Xander as he sensed the sudden, sharp increase in Xander's anger, Spike was surprised to see Xander's hand dart out and grab the bartender's shirt collar and haul him across the bar.

"You say I 'own' Spike, right?"

Willy nodded eyes wide and he darted a quick, wary look Spike's direction. "When did you suddenly get so strong?" he asked Xander, worried, bringing both hands up to the one holding him in place. He couldn't budge Xander's grip.

"About the time he got doused with Margaso blood," Spike offered, smirking. It was fun seeing the oily bartender get his. Since he couldn't do it himself, this was the next best thing.

"What?!" Willy exclaimed, horror spreading across his face. "Did you tell the slayer?"

Spike snorted. "Of course not! Why would I?"

"Hyena," was all Willy said, his words cutting off as Xander's hand tightened.

Did everyone know about that but him?

"A side affect," Xander said shortly, "the other stuff already wore off." He pulled Willy closer. "You leave the slayer out of this," he ordered. "Understand?"

Willy nodded quickly. "Whatever you say, mate."

"Good," Xander purred. "We've already established that I own his ass. That means I can tell him what to do, right?"

Bloody Prat! Spike thought in growing horror, diverting more of his attention toward the bar's patrons. They were still getting a good laugh out of the show, but he didn't know how much longer that would last if Xander kept denigrating him. Part of their willingness to sit back might actually be fear of him. If that went away, they might both be in trouble here. Anger started to overcome everything else he was feeling. I thought the bloody kid wanted to help, not get us both killed!

"As long as you've got the strength to back it up, I suppose so," Willy replied.

"Good, so what happens if I tell him to come down here and buy supplies?"

Willy blinked in response, saying nothing.

"You going to deny my right to have him do that? Go above demon law all that shit?"

Willy shook his head vehemently, beginning to turn a bit blue around the gills.

"Hey, Harris," Spike called out, "unless you want the bloody bloke dead, you might want to ease up on your grip. I don't think he's getting enough air."

"Think so?" Xander asked.

"Yeah, I think so," Spike retorted drily.

"Hmmm," Xander replied thoughtfully, looking only at Willy. "You think so too?"

Willy nodded emphatically.

"Really? You going to serve Spike when he comes in here?"

Again Willy nodded.

"Good," Xander replied, immediately releasing the man.

"All you had to do was ask," Willy muttered, srambling back to his side of the bar and rubbing his throat carefully. "No need to go acting all demony on me."

Xander just turned, smirking. "Spike?" he inquired politely, indicating with a wave that he should approach the bar.

Spike hesitated, all too aware of every single eye watching the by-play. "I'll do it later," he drawled.

The deep flash in Xander's eyes as they narrowed, surprised Spike, sending a flash of uneasiness through him. He purposely rolled his eyes and sauntered forward. "Oh, I suppose I could do it now," he replied, as if it were a bother. "The good stuff," he continued, directing that comment toward Willy.

Standing next to him, Xander leaned close and whispered. "Get enough to last a couple days," he said.

Pure, unwanted, visceral lust shot through Spike as the human's hot breath ghosted across his neck and ear, and he shivered in direct response. He clenched his hands on the bar, but gave no other outward sign he'd heard. "Give me three days worth of bags," he ordered when Willy came back with his steaming mug.

Spike took a long swallow, savoring the taste he got so rarely these days. Human was a special treat when he was flush for a change. When he set the mug down, Willy had yet to move.

"The good stuff for that too?"

Spike wanted to say yes. Unfortunately, he may have more cash than usual, but he didn't have enough for that. "Half and half," he replied.

"All good stuff," Xander refuted.

Willy nodded and hurried off.

Spike jerked his head toward the boy, but any response was abruptly halted as he watched Xander pull out several bills and lay them on the bar.

x-x-x

The walk home was disturbingly silent. Disturbing, because, as much as Spike liked silence sometimes, this one was overlayed with the primal lust rolling off the human walking beside him. Spike would have left, told the boy, 'nice knowing you' and all that rot, but he knew the blasted idiot would simply chase him down . . . again. He knew he could get away from Harris. It really wouldn't be all that difficult. The problem would come when he had to go to ground -- so to speak.

When he had to seek refuge from the sun, Xander Harris would then be able to take all the time he needed to catch up to him. So what would be the point? He just didn't see why Xander had come after him in the first place. The boy had made it perfectly clear earlier where Spike stood.

Did he really? Didn't he just question your motives?

Spike shifted uneasily, risking a covert glance at his temporary companion. Xander seemed intent on staring straight ahead, not paying him a moment's notice. Xander had come after him, though, something the Slayer had never done. Dru hadn't ever, either, come to think of it. It was a new feeling.

"You're thinking awfully hard there, Spike," Xander offered quietly.

Spike started. He hadn't thought Xander was paying attention. Damn, but he was losing his touch. "Why did you come after me? Really," Spike demanded. "You had a cozy little chat with the pouf, big deal. What's that got to do with this?"

Xander just shook his head. "Let's wait for a bit more privacy, before we start that talk, please," he asked.

Spike frowned, but nodded just the same. He supposed it wouldn't dust him to wait the few minutes until they reached the whelp's apartment. He shook his head, though, how he'd come to be heading back to the place he'd left in such a rush earlier -- fully intending never to return -- was a mystery he didn't think he'd ever solve.

Oh, quite being so stupid! You know damn well why. It was the very same reason he'd always followed Angelus back to whatever their current lair was . . . no matter how brassed off he was, or how badly they had fought each night.

He ignored the thought, shoving it aside -- hopefully never to be dealt with -- forcing himself to be patient until the moment the door closed behind them.

"Explain," he said shortly, whipping around to face his current nemesis, arms folded around the bag he carried, and not coincidently, across his chest.

"Have a seat, Spike," Xander countered evenly, retrieving the bag of blood from him and heading for the kitchen.

Fighting yet another growl at this additional delay, Spike threw himself down onto the couch, sprawling along its length. One arm thrown along the back, one leg stretched out and one leg over the edge, his foot braced on the floor, he got as comfortable as was possible in the current situation. Hyperaware of the man in the other room, he could hear every movement, every action, and was surprised to realize that Harris was fixing him blood, the opening and closing of the microwave door a dead giveaway.

He shifted restlessly as the timer dinged, indicating the blood was ready, almost jumping up to retrieve it himself. He forced himself to remain seated, however, acting as if he hadn't a care in the world. In fact, he studiously ignored Xander as he re-entered the room, holding both the steaming cup of blood and two beers.

When Xander chuckled, however, he didn't manage to retain his air of uncaring. He snapped his head around to glare at the offending human, wondering what in buggering hell the bloody boy thought was so funny. It didn't phaze the prat, who simply handed him the blood and one of the beers.

"Thanks," he muttered sullenly, angry that Xander seemed to be holding all the cards in this game of theirs. Spike wanted control back, and he wanted it back now.

"I never realized just how much of an advantage vampires have over humans with their increased sense of smell.

"What?" Spike asked, thrown by the seeming tangent.

"It's amazing just what you can learn when you can smell emotions."

Spike frowned, raling against the unfairness of it all . . . despite the fact that he had rarely 'played fair' back when he'd really been the 'big bad'. He suppressed the growl of irritation and the demand that Xander get on with it all bloody ready. Instead, he cocked his head and turned to stare at the prat.

"I haven't heard that explanation yet," he said evenly. Grateful when it came out devoid of all the confusing mix of emotions he was currently fighting.

Xander sighed softly, raising his head to lock gazes with Spike. "I did know exactly what I was doing when I did it," he said softly. "It was . . . instinctive. The problem is, when everything swirled back to normal," and here he chuckled wryly, "well, as back to normal as it's ever going to get, everything that's human about me swamped everything that isn't.

Oh, that's bloody brilliant, innit? Spike thought sourly. He could recite word for word what was going to happen next. Xander was going to give him the brush off. Oh, he would 'soften' it, the bloody white knight would try to 'let him down gently', but it would be a brush off none-the-less. And he didn't need that. He was so out of here.

"I just needed time and a little reminder, that's all."

What? Spike was now confused. That hadn't sounded like a brush off, not even a 'gentle' one. Now competing with the bitterness and the hurt were tiny seeds of hope, seeds he tried to crush. That way led only to more pain. He knew it well.

"Right," Spike said falsely cheerful, jumping to his feet, "glad we got that cleared up. I'll just be on my way, then."

"What?!"

"I get it, Harris, Spike said airily, heading for the door. He didn't bother to look back as he continued. "The Zeppo's back. You don't need to explain any further. I'll just head out. See what the world has to offer. Was planning to anyway, before the Margaso got hold of me."

The wave of white hot anger that rolled off Xander at that point, was almost enough to make him stop . . . almost. He continued on his trek for the door. He made it to his goal, his hand reaching for the knob when a rustle behind him alerted him to Xander's movement. He grabbed for the knob, intent on ignoring everything behind him, but before he could grasp it, he found himself spun around and pressed up against the still closed door.

He gasped at the feral anger he saw reflected in the normally smiling eyes. "So, is this how you handled things every time Buffy said something you didn't like?" Xander snarled, pushing a little harder.

Spike frowned. What? "Of course not. I--"

"Oh, so it's just me that gets this special treatment, then?"

What the hell? "What are you on about now, Harris?" Spike blustered, thoroughly confused. Here he was, letting the wanker off the hook, and bloody git was yelling at him. It didn't make any sense.

"Is this all you understand?" Xander snapped, darting his head forward and claiming Spike's mouth in a bruising kiss.

A lightning bolt of arousal shot through Spike, and for just a second he was tempted to give in to the moment, enjoy whatever it was Xander was offering and the hell with tomorrow . . . or even 10 minutes from now. Sanity returned quickly, however, and he shoved hard. All the same, he was surprised when Xander was easily shoved away. "Get the sodding hell off me!" he growled, tired of being a yo-yo.

Glaring at Spike, Xander sneered. "Is that why you attacked Buffy? Because force is the only thing you understand?"

Shock flashed through him and his jaw dropped open. He couldn't believe-- "No, you sodding arse!" Spike snapped, rage swamping everything else he was feeling. "You know what that was about! I told you." He was so angry, he was shaking with the force of it.

"Right," Xander drawled, his face still twisted up into a sneer. "you were . . . frustrated."

"Damn right! Out of my head, I was."

"Why?" Xander asked bluntly, flatly.

Spike blinked in surprise at the unexpected question. "Bloody bint blowing hot and cold all the time." What was so hard to understand about that? "Couldn't take it anymore."

"You mean, like you're doing with me?" Xander asked casually.

Spike froze. "Say what?" he asked as soon as he could get his mouth to work. Xander Bloody Harris did not just accused him of being a tease!

"Every time I think I've got things figured out, you switch directions on me!"

"I do not!" Spike exclaimed, insulted.

"Oh, really?" Xander asked skeptically. "I take off from the mansion -- and yeah, I admit I was the one that switched paddles midstream there -- leaving you every opportunity to simply take off, if that's what you wanted. But no. You come here, demanding answers, and when I don't answer right, you get all hurt and start to storm off. We get all hot and heavy, then suddenly your pushing me away and screaming that I don't understand you . . . just like a blasted girl."

"Hey!" He was not a sodding bint! He didn't have to take that. Before he could protest, or otherwise take action, Xander continued his rant.

"Then, I bloody well take your advice and become research guy. I go to Angel . . . Angel for information and advice, just to figure out what the hell I'd done wrong. I take the time to track you down to let you know and we come back here, I assumed to work things out. And just as it looks like we're getting somewhere you fricken jump up and basically say 'well, sod off, have a nice life, I'm outtie'! What the hell am I supposed to think? That you're screwing with me, maybe?"

"No!"

"Prove it!"

"What? How in sodding hell am I supposed to do that?" Spike asked, beyond exasperated. "If you bloody think I'm putting out just to prove a sodding point, you've lost it completely, Mate!"

Xander snorted. "No, Spike. I don't fucking expect that! If I wanted that, I'd simply take it. I'd push until it was all you could think of."

Eyes glazing for just a moment, Spike shook his head, clearing his thoughts . . . somewhat. Frustration taking over, he had to fight the urge to simply stomp his feet. That would be too imature even for him. "What do you want, then?" he snapped.

"Stick around long enough to talk to me. Listen to what I have to say, instead of jumping to conclusions and putting words in my damn mouth!"

"Oh."

"Yeah, oh."

"So, you weren't going to just brush me off, then?" he asked quietly, hoping he wasn't going to be the butt of the joke yet again, that he wasn't putting himself out on too fragile a tree limb. He wanted off the sodding roller coaster he'd been on for the last three days, and hopefully not on the downside.

"No, Spike, I wasn't," Xander replied softly. "I'll be the first to admit that this experience has sent me for more than one bloody loop, and I don't know where the hell it's going to end up. What I do know, is that I'm tired; tired of fighting what's inside me, tired of playing a part that isn't me anymore, and most of all, I'm tired of fighting you."

More than surprised, Spike swallowed nervously. "You are?"

Xander nodded. "Yeah, I am. What I want, is to move on, to discover if we can actually be."

"Oh," was all Spike could reply to that. He hadn't expected that. For so long, every one of the Scoobies had been so dead set against him, Xander especially, how could he have expected this alarming turnaround?

"Now, only one question truly remains."

"And what's that?" Spike asked warily, taking a deep breath, and letting it out slowly.

"What do you want?"

And that was the big question. What did he want? His earlier submission, and the after affects of such, notwithstanding, did he want to give up his hope of Buffy, and give Xander Harris a chance? Part of him, his instincts, screamed, 'hell yes!'. The hopeless romantic in him wanted to continue the tragic romance that was he and the slayer. The majority of him, however, was simply confused. He was a bloody vampire. None of this stuff was supposed to be this complicated! He wanted something, or someone, he took it; simple as that. There wasn't supposed to be this mind numbing confusion.

Buffy was a known quantity. Sure, it hurt like hell, but he knew what to expect. Xander, on the other hand was a complete unknown. This wasn't even the Xander he'd grown to know over the years. This was a completely new Xander, raw and exciting, but. . . .

Spike swallowed heavily, one more time, daring to meet Xander's steady gaze. Decision made. "I want. . . ." It was official. He'd gone off his nut! He'd be dusted as soon as this got out. If the slayer didn't take care of it, Xander's gal pal, Willow, would -- and that was one witch he really didn't want to piss off. Even when she messed up the results were . . . spectacular.

"Yes?" Xander encouraged.

"I want you."

Xander grinned, widely and closed the remaining distance between them. When they were nothing more than a breath apart, Xander stopped. "You're sure? You're not going to cut out on me again?"

"I'm sure."

"Good," Xander said brightly, pulling out of Spike's personal space. "Now that we got that girly stuff out of the way. What say you to a beer?" he asked as he made a beeline for the kitchen.

Spike gaped after the confusing human. Nearly growling, he was now utterly certain he was going to get whiplash trying to follow Xander's bloody moods. He shook his head. "And I thought Dru's moods were hard to follow," he muttered too quietly for the apartment's other occupant to hear, and made his way back to the couch. "Sure," he replied, just as Xander re-entered with two beers in hand.

TBC

Kiristeen ke Alaya

AN: This story will be continued on twisting the hellmouth. I'm currently editing/changing/adding to? all previous chapters. : ) I hope to see you all there!