All I Need...
folder
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
40
Views:
14,218
Reviews:
137
Recommended:
0
Currently Reading:
0
Category:
-Buffy the Vampire Slayer › Slash - Male/Male › Spike(William)/Xander
Rating:
Adult ++
Chapters:
40
Views:
14,218
Reviews:
137
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.
Part 4
* * * * * * * * *
Part 4
Smokes in his pocket, blood-breath dealt with. Hair slicked back, clothes sharp as usual. Yeah, Spike was ready. Ready for anything, he decided.
Down the stairs because the bloody elevator was so damned slow, then across the lobby and into the bar which was a good bit more lively now than it had been earlier. And that was good, Spike decided quickly. More options for him, wasn’t it?
He set himself up comfortably on a stool at the end of the bar, ordering a beer and a shot of good Irish whiskey. Lucky for him, Africa was one of the few places a bloke could still have a fag in public. And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t have stopped him.
He lit up, taking a deep, slow drag, lips pursed as he savored the flavor. “Bloody brilliant,” he murmured, finally turning to scan the room and the constantly arriving humans.
* * * * *
It hadn’t taken long to get back to his rental jeep. In fact, it took much less time than getting to his lookout had, mostly because he didn’t have the fully human Watcher with him. He might hate being back in Africa even if this was a very different part of the country than he’d traveled before, but the hyena was in his element.
Into the jeep, eye patch coming off to be shoved carelessly into his shirt pocket, then out along the overgrown dirt road to the paved one and on to the hotel… the Paraa Safari Lodge.
It was a nice place, as was proved by the fact that the desk staff didn’t so much as bat an eye when he walked to the counter covered in dust and dirt, a few leaves still in his hair despite his best efforts.
Fortunately he was on the Council’s dime because while Xander Harris wasn’t exactly poor, more than a few days in this place would have put a noticeable dent in his fun money fund, not to mention the new wardrobe he’d gotten in London. It made a nice change from the generally threadbare clothing he’d had left after Africa… the first time.
A quick shower, shave, then into a fitted pair of dark brown slacks and silky, soft olive green t-shirt, tight enough to show off his hard-earned muscles. Soft soled brown shoes, a quick pass of a comb through his hair, and… he was ready.
“Not too shabby,” he told his reflection in the mirror, giving it a quick smile. “Alright, Harris, time to get your grub on. Maybe they’ll have some nice rare gazelle loin in the restaurant. Something I can sink my teeth into.” And even the spirit of the beast found that idea appealing.
* * * * *
He hadn’t seen the man walk in. Then again, he’d been a bit distracted by the questionable dancing which had actually looked more like mindless flailing than anything else. Still, he saw him now.
Bright blue eyes traveled slowly down the man’s back, then up again. Strong legs, round butt covered in some sort of dark fabric… possibly linen, from the look of it. Tight, toned back, long muscles outlining the central dip of the spine… broad shoulders, but not too broad, connected to strongly muscled arms… nice wrists, big hands, resting there on the edge of the bar.
Bloody hell, there was something familiar about the bloke… something about the way he held himself.
Spike frowned, trying to place it then shook his head. He’d probably just seen the git ‘round the hotel and that was why he seemed…
And then the human turned around and Spike almost spat beer across the room.
He found himself standing, jaw hanging down. Harris… Xander Harris… looking all grown up now, like he’d grown into himself.
His eyes examined the man’s front just as carefully as they’d done to his back and… yeah, this was Droopy, all mature with a few years away from Sunnyhell under his belt.
The face was thinner, but then so was the body. It suited the human, though, Spike decided, trying to ignore the urge to stalk over and grab the bastard. Couldn’t be bothered to call or write, but he showed up here? What the hell did that mean? Or did it mean anything at all?
His head cocked just a bit as he watched the young man watching the dance floor and he almost laughed himself when the human did, brown eyes sparkling merrily in the low lighting.
“Wait a minute… Eyes. Plural. EYES. What th’ bloody fuckin’ hell!” His own eyes narrowed dangerously, staring until the man turned back to the bar.
He got up quickly, moving past the brunette and growling to himself when he caught a whiff of him but he continued past and out the door, barely holding himself back until he got to his room.
“Not Harris!” he snarled, his hand lashing out to knock the lamp beside the bed into the wall across the room. It wasn’t enough.
“Not bloody Xander Harris!” he nearly howled, not sure of why he was so bothered exactly. But he was.
He was infuriated… almost homicidal. “Some bloody fuckin’ Hellspawn runnin’ around lookin’ like my bloke? Goin’ ta kill it. Slowly,” he snarled, the words distorted just a bit by the fangs he was suddenly sporting, “Painfully. Messily.”
He growled loudly, not much caring that anyone in the rooms beside his would be able to hear him. “Teach th’ fuckin’ shit not ta mess with my friends, I will!” And just like that, he was more worried than angry.
The thing knew Xander. It had to. There was no other way it could mirror him so well aside from the eye. And that begged the question of… where was the real Xander?
“If that thing hurt ya, pet,” the vampire snarled softly, knowing the human would only hear him if he were dead and somehow watching over him, “I’m goin’ ta keep it alive for months, peelin’ bits of skin and extruding viscera a bit at a time, yah…? Just need ta get close ta it, don’t I?”
And even the soul was on board with that idea. Fully.
* * * * *
They’d had the gazelle and he’d had the gazelle and it was good. Not as good as the ice cold beer he was sipping, though… or maybe it was. He’d become all about immediacy as he’d grown more used to the spirit within him, after all.
He couldn’t help laughing as the so-called dancing continued on the lighted floor, remembering himself in the Bronze days. Fortunately he’d grown out of that awkward stage.
He grinned quickly at the bartender, nodding for another beer even as he felt the hyena inside perk up for no apparent reason. Then the… scent hit him. Something rich, thick… It wafted over him, filled him as he breathed it in. It was… intriguing, especially since he had no idea of what it was.
And then it was gone, leaving him frowning and confused. “What…?” he started to ask the guy behind the bar before stopping himself and shaking his head. It was his enhanced senses that had picked up that wonderful smell. He was sure the human would just think he was crazy if he asked about it.
See, he told himself, you’ve gotten smarter with age.
The thought had him chuckling ruefully. If he really had gotten smarter, he wouldn’t be in Uganda chasing some sort of demon or other just to get it to stop looking like the vampire he’d once lived with.
He forced the memory of the amazing scent from his mind, although he’d catalogued it somehow. He’d recognize it if he ever smelled it again.
His eyes turned to the dance floor again, crinkling at the edges as he watched the unintentional comedy show, trying to relax until he had the chance to find the Spike-alike.
He’d stake out the thing’s floor in the morning, he decided. Until then, his time was his own.
* * * * *
(A/N: Many thanks to Fenris Mourningstar (wow, you give amazing FB! You MUST write, too, huh? LOL), Alice (heh-heh... DO a jig. I'm watching, you know. *snerk*) & chibifae (just for you... a new part. *winks* And as for smelling Spike, well... you'll see. LOL) for the reviews! Always adored and majorly appreciated! *nods* More soon, I think. And thanks again, all!)
Part 4
Smokes in his pocket, blood-breath dealt with. Hair slicked back, clothes sharp as usual. Yeah, Spike was ready. Ready for anything, he decided.
Down the stairs because the bloody elevator was so damned slow, then across the lobby and into the bar which was a good bit more lively now than it had been earlier. And that was good, Spike decided quickly. More options for him, wasn’t it?
He set himself up comfortably on a stool at the end of the bar, ordering a beer and a shot of good Irish whiskey. Lucky for him, Africa was one of the few places a bloke could still have a fag in public. And even if it wasn’t, it wouldn’t have stopped him.
He lit up, taking a deep, slow drag, lips pursed as he savored the flavor. “Bloody brilliant,” he murmured, finally turning to scan the room and the constantly arriving humans.
* * * * *
It hadn’t taken long to get back to his rental jeep. In fact, it took much less time than getting to his lookout had, mostly because he didn’t have the fully human Watcher with him. He might hate being back in Africa even if this was a very different part of the country than he’d traveled before, but the hyena was in his element.
Into the jeep, eye patch coming off to be shoved carelessly into his shirt pocket, then out along the overgrown dirt road to the paved one and on to the hotel… the Paraa Safari Lodge.
It was a nice place, as was proved by the fact that the desk staff didn’t so much as bat an eye when he walked to the counter covered in dust and dirt, a few leaves still in his hair despite his best efforts.
Fortunately he was on the Council’s dime because while Xander Harris wasn’t exactly poor, more than a few days in this place would have put a noticeable dent in his fun money fund, not to mention the new wardrobe he’d gotten in London. It made a nice change from the generally threadbare clothing he’d had left after Africa… the first time.
A quick shower, shave, then into a fitted pair of dark brown slacks and silky, soft olive green t-shirt, tight enough to show off his hard-earned muscles. Soft soled brown shoes, a quick pass of a comb through his hair, and… he was ready.
“Not too shabby,” he told his reflection in the mirror, giving it a quick smile. “Alright, Harris, time to get your grub on. Maybe they’ll have some nice rare gazelle loin in the restaurant. Something I can sink my teeth into.” And even the spirit of the beast found that idea appealing.
* * * * *
He hadn’t seen the man walk in. Then again, he’d been a bit distracted by the questionable dancing which had actually looked more like mindless flailing than anything else. Still, he saw him now.
Bright blue eyes traveled slowly down the man’s back, then up again. Strong legs, round butt covered in some sort of dark fabric… possibly linen, from the look of it. Tight, toned back, long muscles outlining the central dip of the spine… broad shoulders, but not too broad, connected to strongly muscled arms… nice wrists, big hands, resting there on the edge of the bar.
Bloody hell, there was something familiar about the bloke… something about the way he held himself.
Spike frowned, trying to place it then shook his head. He’d probably just seen the git ‘round the hotel and that was why he seemed…
And then the human turned around and Spike almost spat beer across the room.
He found himself standing, jaw hanging down. Harris… Xander Harris… looking all grown up now, like he’d grown into himself.
His eyes examined the man’s front just as carefully as they’d done to his back and… yeah, this was Droopy, all mature with a few years away from Sunnyhell under his belt.
The face was thinner, but then so was the body. It suited the human, though, Spike decided, trying to ignore the urge to stalk over and grab the bastard. Couldn’t be bothered to call or write, but he showed up here? What the hell did that mean? Or did it mean anything at all?
His head cocked just a bit as he watched the young man watching the dance floor and he almost laughed himself when the human did, brown eyes sparkling merrily in the low lighting.
“Wait a minute… Eyes. Plural. EYES. What th’ bloody fuckin’ hell!” His own eyes narrowed dangerously, staring until the man turned back to the bar.
He got up quickly, moving past the brunette and growling to himself when he caught a whiff of him but he continued past and out the door, barely holding himself back until he got to his room.
“Not Harris!” he snarled, his hand lashing out to knock the lamp beside the bed into the wall across the room. It wasn’t enough.
“Not bloody Xander Harris!” he nearly howled, not sure of why he was so bothered exactly. But he was.
He was infuriated… almost homicidal. “Some bloody fuckin’ Hellspawn runnin’ around lookin’ like my bloke? Goin’ ta kill it. Slowly,” he snarled, the words distorted just a bit by the fangs he was suddenly sporting, “Painfully. Messily.”
He growled loudly, not much caring that anyone in the rooms beside his would be able to hear him. “Teach th’ fuckin’ shit not ta mess with my friends, I will!” And just like that, he was more worried than angry.
The thing knew Xander. It had to. There was no other way it could mirror him so well aside from the eye. And that begged the question of… where was the real Xander?
“If that thing hurt ya, pet,” the vampire snarled softly, knowing the human would only hear him if he were dead and somehow watching over him, “I’m goin’ ta keep it alive for months, peelin’ bits of skin and extruding viscera a bit at a time, yah…? Just need ta get close ta it, don’t I?”
And even the soul was on board with that idea. Fully.
* * * * *
They’d had the gazelle and he’d had the gazelle and it was good. Not as good as the ice cold beer he was sipping, though… or maybe it was. He’d become all about immediacy as he’d grown more used to the spirit within him, after all.
He couldn’t help laughing as the so-called dancing continued on the lighted floor, remembering himself in the Bronze days. Fortunately he’d grown out of that awkward stage.
He grinned quickly at the bartender, nodding for another beer even as he felt the hyena inside perk up for no apparent reason. Then the… scent hit him. Something rich, thick… It wafted over him, filled him as he breathed it in. It was… intriguing, especially since he had no idea of what it was.
And then it was gone, leaving him frowning and confused. “What…?” he started to ask the guy behind the bar before stopping himself and shaking his head. It was his enhanced senses that had picked up that wonderful smell. He was sure the human would just think he was crazy if he asked about it.
See, he told himself, you’ve gotten smarter with age.
The thought had him chuckling ruefully. If he really had gotten smarter, he wouldn’t be in Uganda chasing some sort of demon or other just to get it to stop looking like the vampire he’d once lived with.
He forced the memory of the amazing scent from his mind, although he’d catalogued it somehow. He’d recognize it if he ever smelled it again.
His eyes turned to the dance floor again, crinkling at the edges as he watched the unintentional comedy show, trying to relax until he had the chance to find the Spike-alike.
He’d stake out the thing’s floor in the morning, he decided. Until then, his time was his own.
* * * * *
(A/N: Many thanks to Fenris Mourningstar (wow, you give amazing FB! You MUST write, too, huh? LOL), Alice (heh-heh... DO a jig. I'm watching, you know. *snerk*) & chibifae (just for you... a new part. *winks* And as for smelling Spike, well... you'll see. LOL) for the reviews! Always adored and majorly appreciated! *nods* More soon, I think. And thanks again, all!)