Touched (Part 1 of 8) Completed

(Characters: Not mine, Joss’)


It had been an incredibly hot day. The kind where you could fry an egg on the sidewalk. Xander had gone out, driven around listlessly, checked out the nearby lounges, the places Spike could have taken shelter from daylight. But he'd found nothing. No sign of the vampire. No phone calls. Nothing.

Now that the sun was gone, he sat in the small motel room, antsy as hell. First he caught himself bouncing his leg up and down. Then he was nervously changing channels on the remote, until he threw it on the bed in sheer frustration. Where was he?

Spike had stormed off so angry at him. And yeah, he could understand the big bad not wanting to have spewed those.... oh God, it made Xander cringe to even think back on Spike-bot's love talk. How had his mind conjured those things up? Spackle me? Heat burned his cheeks. Argh... it wasn't anything he'd ever want to hear from Spike, or anyone else!

He rocked back and forth. Okay, Spike was a big boy. He knew when he left that the sun would come up soon. He was probably holed up somewhere nice and safe and would walk through the door any sec. Yeah.... he would. And even if he was still mad, at least he'd be alive, and ...

Making a frustrated sound, Xander walked to the bathroom and washed his face with cold water. Again. If only he could find a way to stop focusing his magic on Spike. If he came back. No.... when he came back.

But how? How when it was Spike who'd caused him to realize... to face he was gay? The guy was a walking, talking sex God, and one day Xander had awakened to the truth. He didn't privately obsess over Spike's fight moves, or constantly argue with him, or ignore him, just because he was jealous or wanted to be like him or hate the fact he was a vampire. He wanted the guy to get in the guy's tight leather pants. It was that simple, and that complicated.

"Plenty of way cuter guys. Texans with nice drawls... Tall guys with hats...." he muttered under his breath as he walked back into the room. If only he could fixate on someone else. Well there was that guy who'd moved next door, with the cool Chinese angel symbol with wings tattoo. Or Brad Pitt, now he had a nice ass! And maybe...

A clicking sounded. Xander's gaze swung to the door to catch sight of a very disheveled Spike enter. It took a full minute to sink in. The smell of perfume. Cheap, cloying perfume. The mussed hair and clothes. The huge orange lipstick marks on his shirt and neck... damn, she must have had a big mouth.

Xander's stomach roiled. His gaze burned with anger, his face flushed to a dark shade.

Spike raised his hands, "Xander... calm..." he glanced around at the shaking room. "Look, you have to...."

Images of blonde bimbos, red headed sluts, brunets with one thing on their mind... touching Spike all over, kissing him, fucking him.... Xander wanted them out of his head. He wanted them to stop, but all he could see was the evidence. The smell... the lipstick. Hands all over Spike.... mouths.... fuck, not his mouth but theirs...

Spike took a few steps toward Xander, "come on Harris, get a hold of--" Some sort of force field pushed him back. And was Xander wrinkling his nose? He tried again, but stumbled as the ground rolled beneath him. "Xander! Stop this, now!"

Eyes trained on the vampire, all Xander could do was breath. His chest rose and fell as he tried to fight the images, pretend like this hadn't happened. All the while, the room was going to shambles. Pictures fell off the wall. The television crashed onto the ground.

"Harris....what the..." Spike tried to dodge the wash cloths that were flying toward him. He raised his hands to keep them off, but suddenly they were scrubbing his face and chest, lathering him up. "Owww.... that bloody hurts..."

Xander wanted it off Spike... all evidence of the woman. Or women. He wanted the vampire squeaky clean, like he'd been in bed....

As a washcloth attacked his cheek, Spike said something unintelligible. The scrubbing was so hard, he thought his skin would rub off. "Oh no, you bloody well won't," he ground out, trying to catch the edge of his shirt, as he found it being pulled off him. He tugged on one side, while an invisible force tugged on the other. By now he ought to be used to the sound of his clothes getting ripped to bloody shreds. Now his entire chest was open to attack. "Dammitall!'

Invisible hands worked at his belt. He might have enjoyed that, if they weren't tugging his pants down along with his boxers, to reveal more flesh for the evil wash cloth. His eyes widened as the area of suds on his body widened, to include more. "That's my arse.... that's my... Erp!"

When the wash cloth reached Spike's privates, Xander's temper started to cool. But only for a brief second, the time it took to get over the shock of what was happening. He still wanted the vampire clean of the girls...

"Xander!" Spike found himself imprisoned, hands raised in the air, legs straddled as if by invisible cuffs as the wash cloth worked his body, had their way with him. "I get the message, I'll take a shower!"

Spike's words came true. Water poured from the ceiling, right over his head. He sputtered, "too cold...too hot!." And the washing continued.

It continued. And continued. And continued. Until the floor was soaked. Until his skin was so sanitized a surgeon entering the operating room would be jealous.

Xander's eyes cooled. Now that Spike was squeaky clean again, he wanted the washing to stop. But it wouldn't. And he was growing more miserable by the second.

"Xander."

This time Spike's voice held neither anger nor impatience. It was a plea. That only made Xander feel worse. "I want it to stop, I really do. I don't want to be fucking freak," he shouted in frustration.

"Giles. Call him. Maybe they've found some sort of solution." Spike managed to sound calm and collected. The last thing he wanted was for Xander to grow more agitated. At least the room wasn't shaking as badly, and items were flying through the air a bit more infrequently. Also, the invisible force had released his arms so he no longer looked like a stick figure. Most men in his situation would probably have covered their nakedness, but he didn't try or care.

Xander didn't even know what to say. The emotions stirring inside him were confusing, explosive and depressing all at once. Half ashamed, he made the phone call. When Giles asked him what was wrong, his eyes teared up. "Everything."

"Give me the phone." Still forcefully rooted to the spot, Spike put his hand out.

Xander pulled the sheet off the bed, and tossed it to spike, then gave him the phone. Spike immediately wrapped the sheet around his waist.

Sitting on the end of the bed, Xander rocked back and forth. He couldn't help noticing how the now wet sheet molded to Spike's ass. Or where it stopped, and where Spike's water-slicked skin gleamed. He had to stop this. If he didn't, the sheet would tear too. It would get worse and worse. How could it get worse? It was baaad.

Spike caught himself as the room started to shake again. "He's getting upset. I think that might be one of his triggers. Wait... did you just call me Sherlock?" Apparently Giles' sense of humor improved when he was out of harm's way. He wondered if he should make a stripper joke, but decided he was the on that needed help right now. "Music.... as in it soothes the savage beast. That the best you can come up with? Preliminary research my arse!" Spike shut the phone and tossed it onto a chair.

"What kind of cheap room did you get us? No alarm clock," he glared at the telly which was now on the ground. No hope for music from there either. "Xander, take a breath."

Xander took a deep breath, and another, and another. But nothing helped. He was too upset at his powerlessness and it was making the cycle worse. Someone was gonna get hurt. Spike was going to drown. Or the wet ceiling was going to come down on them. Or....

"Well she's an earth quakin', hip shakin', soul breaking, love-making machine, yeah, yeah..." Spike stalled mid song. "That's probably not a good one considering the circumstances."

Brown, questioning eyes stared at him. The room still moved. Water still poured down his face. The blasted wash cloth were still circling around him like piranhas waiting to nip him to bits. Spike cleared his throat and tried again.

Close your eyes,
Have no fear,
The monsters gone,
He's on the run and your daddy's here,

Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy

Xander's mouth dropped open. He'd had no idea Spike could sing. What was this song? Was the idiot singing a lullaby to try to put him to sleep after knocking him out all day? It couldn't work. But he didn't want the vampire to stop.

Before you go to sleep,
Say a little prayer,
Every day in every way,
It's getting better and better,

The pressure holding Spike's legs in place dissolved. Immediately, the vampire crossed to the bed, sat down and pulled Xander into a hug. Never mind that they were both now getting drenched, or red, blue and white face towels were circling like carrions. He need the boy calmed if the shaking and waterworks were to stop.

Beautiful,
Beautiful, beautiful,
Beautiful Boy,

Out on the ocean sailing away,
I can hardly wait,
To see you to come of age,
But I guess we'll both,
Just have to be patient,

Strong arms crushed him, held him safe. Made him cry. Xander's shoulders shook as he sobbed like a child, burying his face in Spike's neck. Anguish. Desire. Self-loathing. Jealousy. Salvation. They weren't just words. They were real, and they surfaced so sharply, it hurt. But as Spike's comforting voice washed over him, the eruption of feelings inside eased. He snuggled closer, held tight as if to cling to a buoy in a stormy sea.

Beautiful boy... Spike ended on a soft note. Everything had stopped. The shaking. The water. The sexual harassment by rough fabric. But he'd forgotten that already. "I've been told only my own mother could like my voice, but this is a first... it driving someone to cry."

Xander didn't want to move away. He wouldn't, not unless he was pried away. "Spike, I don't think I'm your mother."

"That a compliment?"

Xander felt Spike's chest vibrate and rumble as the vampire laughed. He merely nodded, sliding his cheek up and down against wet skin.

"It's alright. You'll get a handle on this," Spike promised, rubbing his mouth back and forth over the top of Xander's hair.

It felt like a kiss. It felt like a soft kiss. Xander's throat tightened.

Spike didn't know how long they sat this way. It was clear that Xander had no intention of moving. Xander who's warm breath was skimming across the sensitive skin of Spike's throat. Xander who was wet and plastered to him, whose rough jeans were rubbing against Spike's exposed abdomen above the sheet.

Holding the boy imperceptibly tighter, he whispered, "get some rest now." He overcame Xander's resistance, by turning him around in his arms, but still holding him, spooning him as they lay on their sides.

"I can't sleep, I slept all day," Xander half heartedly protested.

Smiling with the knowledge that Xander had exhausted himself, what with the magic and the crying. Even the rhythm of his heart and breaths told the vampire that the boy would soon be asleep. "Just rest then."

"Don't we have to..."

"Leave? Yeah. A few hours won't hurt." Spike tried not to notice Xander wiggling his arse into his pelvis in an attempt to get closer. "You can't magically dry us, can you?"

Loud humming noises erupted from the bathroom and drew closer.

"No... not blow dryers, please...none of those!" Spike envisioned a swarm of the noisy buggers surrounding them and aiming hot air into their faces, not to mention other places which had no business near any electrical equipment of any sort. He prepared to get up and towel them both dry, when the noise stopped.

Looking down, he saw Xander had fallen into a deep sleep. Odd that his hand was behind him, holding Spike. Sighing, he lay back down. He'd never fall asleep. Three minutes later, he was dead to the world.

(Song Credit - John Lennon, Beautiful Boy)


(A/N: Feedback please, please, please ::grins::)