Love's Bitches

Title: Love's Bitches 2/?
Author: Rowaine (rowained@yahoo.com)
Pairing: Spike/Xander, eventually
See first part for disclaimer, warnings, etc ad nauseum
Feedback is welcome, but please limit yourself to constructive comments. Flames will be forwarded to my hormonal teenagers for their weekly bonfire and weenie roast.

Special AN for this part: Yes, I'm well aware that Eddie Bauer (or however you spell it) doesn't do jeeps, but hey, it was funny in context. If jeep commissioned a designer like that, I'd have used it... unless they do and I missed something. AU = who cares about the technicalities, right? It's my alternate reality -- I'll abuse whatever I like.


:: Hello, I don't believe we've met ::

All a dream, it's gotta be, just a dream. The high altitude or unsmogged air, or maybe a leftover from that greasy spoon at breakfast. There is no possible way a very naked -- and very dusted -- Spike could be standing outside my rover, goose pimply from the chill. Cus hey, we all know that vamps don't feel the cold like humans, right?

Opening his eyes again, Xander watches in fascination as a splat of some random bird's excrement lands on the blond's shoulder. And if this is really a dream, Xander's memory of his former roommate's extensive vocabulary is much better than he thought. Somehow, just hearing the creative uses of avian entrails brings home that maybe, just maybe, this really is William the Bloody. In all the flesh.

And *gah* that's one image he really didn't need, right? There's only so much denial a man can stand before his brain collapses from the stress.

Slowly pealing back the layers of blanket, he stabs a finger at the interior lights. Yeah, there's no one else who could pull off that swagger while bare-assed and shivering. Another finger lands on the door locks, and he issues an unnecessary invite. "Come on in here before your balls crawl back inside for warmth."

"Thanks pet. Nice to see you care about the condition of me 'nads." A blur of bleached hair and skin later, and Spike is comfortably esconced under the mound of blankets, soaking up residual heat. "Don't suppose you've got a spare set of cloths for your ol' mate, eh? Bloody Powers That Trip dumped me here with nothing, not even a goodbye kick in the arse."

Ignoring the silence from his reluctant host, Spike continues his monologue of seemingly unrelated complaints, "Dunno whau'reu're doing trekking through the eastern mountains in fall anyways. It's cold enough to freeze a whore's fancy, it is. Nice wheels though. Pity they won't move for ya now, right? Guess I should be grateful they didn't drop me from too high up. No telling how long it'd take to recover from that. Leastwise, you're out here in the middle of nowhere, or the locals woulda gotten a bit uppity by all this..."

Sounds like him, looks like him, the accent's right and his use of words and all... but there's something off. The vamp I know would have taken it as his right to occupy my space and borrow my cloths without bothering to ask.

"Who the fuck is Eddie Bauer, and why's his name on your car, mate?"

Definitely not right. Shouldn't be surprised about the possibility of him coming back. After all, he saved the world -- when it should have been Angel's job -- so maybe this is his reward or something. Except, why would he be sent back without cloths, and land just a few yards from me, out in the middle of BFE?

"... taste has improved, I see. And hey! Silk knickers? Damn mate, moving up in the world."

Although... there's proof that he's still undead. He hasn't stopped to take a breath one time. Wait a second! "Dammit, stay out of my boxers, you bleached twit!"

After a short wrestling match (that quickly degenerated to tickle war), the vampire triumphantly holds up a pair of black silk boxers, waving them like a flag above Xander's head. He's already found sweats and socks, and promptly slides into the warm fuzzy cloths.

"First thing in the morning, I'll pop the hood and do a quick look-see, k? Y'don't stay walking round as long as I have without picking up some useful skills, and this baby can't be in that bad a shape. Too new, y'know?"

Xander hums at him, still barely blinking. This new version of his old nemisis-turned-friend is giving him a mid-range case of wiggins.

"Heh, you'd let me burst into flames just to get free mechanic's work? Nice, I like that. Bloody hell, pet, blink or something, prove you're still alive, right?"

If the request hadn't been followed by a sharply pinched arm, the man in question might well have remained in stunned silence.

"Hey, no need to get brutal about it. Damn, you're just as ornery in your third incarnation. And what's up with that? Why'd you land *here* of all places? Other side of the country from Buffy and Dawn..."

That half-asked question turns the tide, forcing Spike to adopt some of the mortal's confusion. "Why would I land on them?"

"Er, cus you're back, and you love her..."

"Oh, that. Yeh, always will. Always love Dru too, don't mean I'd go seek her out, now does it?"

"Ok, confused again. Think you can work on the rover tonight, or do you need more light? Got some tools behind the front seat, not much, but should be enough for basic stuff."


:: Nifty new things found out via accident ::

Shock does interesting things to people, and in Xander's case, it generally helped him sleep. Alright, so maybe that isn't the best method of combatting insomnia, but whatever works, right? Giving his subconscious a mental shrug, he lets himself doze off to the strangely soothing baritone babble. Anything truly important would be repeated in the morning.

Watching his companion drift off to sleep, Spike gives in to temptation. Like he was good at resisting on a good day? He leans over the prone form and brushed the soft waves away from Xander's face, allowing him a good view of the damaged eye. For once, he was glad that the witch hadn't given up magic completely -- there were still scars, but he no longer suffered from the loss of one eye.

Next on the list was a glance through the young man's wallet, conveniently left on the center console. Driver's license, insurance cards for both him and the rover, emergency numbers for LA and London, a tidy sum in cash and traveller's checks. But no photos. The whelp had always carried excess numbers of pictures of his girls, so what had changed? Ok, other than the obvious...

A single set of keys, carrying only those for the jeep, sat beside a map and empty water bottle. No debris normally found in even the newest of cars. Even the expected candy wrappers are missing.

Sitting himself in the driver's seat, Spike ponders the abnormality of the situation. Other than his abrupt return. Xander Harris, found hundreds of miles away from his adopted family, without twinkies or chocolate in sight. Loaded with new cloths, new wheels, new eye, and no ties. As if he'd completely divorced himself from everything hellmouth-ish.

Spike leans his head back on the rest, deep in thought. Even after all his observations as a non-ghost, he still can't grasp what could have happened to cause this gap from the old whelp's normal behavior.

So thoroughly engrossed in pondering the complexities of his friend's changes, he almost misses the glimpse of white in the rear view mirror. The vision hits him like a ten-ton steam roller. His reflection. After all these years, *his* reflection shows up in a broken down car in the middle of nowhere, with his only companion sound asleep.

He has to remind himself that the need to breathe is a human requirement, he's so close to hyperventilating.


:: Sunrise, sunset ::

There's something truly wonderful about not having to live by the clock, Xander reflects as he leisurely wakes in the late morning sunlight. Something he could easily get used to, if only he had some coffee to go along with the lazy feeling of loose muscles and joints voicing their desire for caffeine.

A metallic clink from outside shifts his mental process into high speed, forcing him to recall his unexpected visitor. If that weren't enough, the string of profanity that follows would allay all doubts.

"Spike..."

Nope, not awake enough for this. Wonder if I still have that emergency Snickers under the seat... Probably not, since blondie's bound to have already snooped through everything.

Hold the fuckin phone! Daylight, vampire. Vampire in daylight, working on my car. No sounds of spontaneous combustion or other flame-related catastrophe. No smells of burned flesh. What the FUCK?

"Spike," he says, much louder this time. "The hell's going on? Did you suddenly become human or something?" He waits a minfor for a reply, and getting none eggs the vamp a bit. "Wasn't that Deadboy's gig, some sort of shansu-ey? Bet he'll be pissed to know you beat him to the punchline."

Still, the vampire doesn't answer. His cursing subsides into some retro punk tune, oddly at ease with the random sounds of wildlife.

Pulling on his shoes, Xander stumbles out of his nest of blankets, on a mission. His feet stop before the rest of him when he catches sight of a shirtless, lightly pinkened Spike, bent over the engine of his jeep. His hips sway in time with the song he's still singing, creating an interesting rhythm that draws Xander's gaze. Target locked, proceed with drool.

Finally, the platinum head withdraws from its mechanical hide-away. A bone-cracking stretch that flexes every muscle group in his torso, then over to touch his toes, Spike has obviously found his walkman CD player. Although... Xander can't remember having any Souxi and the Banshees. Can't remember much right now, what with the view and all. Daylight, vampire. Almost sunburnt vampire with well-formed pecs and a delicious... whoa boy!

So much for preternatural senses. Whelp's been awake long enough to tie his laces, but not quite enough to wipe up the drool. Heh, aughta tease him about that, but hey, after all this time, that one's just too easy.

"Mornin pet. Sleep well? This baby's not in that bad a shape. You musta hit one helluva pothole somewhere, knocked loa fea few hoses and rattled your serpentine belt. No problem, was just waiting on you to get up before I started her up, y'know?"

"Uh huh. Sunlight. Vampire. Pink skin. No shirt. No burning or ashes. Explain."

Gods, he's so much fun before his first shot of caffeine.