t'is the Season!

Season Four:

The sound of a car door slamming shut outside was enough to stir Xander from his thoughts. He quickly pulled the red sweater he’d picked over his head, and looked around for his shoes. Any minute now, the screaming would start… The slamming doors could only mean that his uncle Rory and aunt Carol had arrived. His dad would have been drinking all day, and there was no doubt that uncle Rory was not exactly sober as well.

Wait, his shoes were underneath the bed! Xander fell to his knees and fished his shoes out from between the dustbunnies. He lifted himself to the bed and pulled his shoes on. The orange recliner was in his direct line of sight, but somehow he managed to avoid looking at it and it’s occupant.

Why did he get stuck with vamp-sitting duties? In his opinion, Spike had been perfectly fine in Giles’ bathtub, no need at all to move him! Xander frowned as he pulled his right shoe on, tying it quickly. He had to hurry, had to be gone before his dad came down to demand his presence at the “festivities”. Damnit, the laces of his left shoe were all knotted, and he yanked at the knot in frustration, hyperaware of the pair of blue eyes following his every move.

“You can just let me go, yanno.”

Shit! No time to start an argument with the bleached wonder now! He tugged the laces once more and tried to squirm his left foot into the shoe unsuccessfully. 

“Shut up Spike.”

“No, seriously, you planning on keeping me tied up till all eternity then, genius?”

“Listen bleachboy, I haven’t got time for this!” Xander ground out, as he finally managed to pull his left shoe on as well. He was already running late for the Christmas celebrations at Buffy’s, and he had to get out as soon as possible, because the mood upstairs would soon turn sour, now that his aunt and uncle had arrived. Xander stood up from the bed and pulled his coat on, fumbling with the zipper a bit, looking anywhere except at the vampire tied up in his chair.

“It’s bloody Christmas you wanker!” said vampire snarled, once again straining against the rope that kept him secured to the chair. Upstairs, the first of many shouting matches began. Xander knew had to get out of here, fast. He grabbed the sheet from the kitchenette’s counter and unfolded it, before tossing it over the captive vamp.

“Hey! HEY!” a toss of the head did little to dislodge the sheet.

“Shut up! It’s for your own good, you idiot! What if my dad and uncle Rory come down here looking for me! Just be quiet and don’t move, I’ll be back tomorrow!” Xander hissed, as he made his way to the door.

“No, wait, listen, Harris…” Spike could hear the door opening and closing, the key turning in the lock, tumbler sliding into place, then footsteps heading up the stairs outside the basement.

“HARRIS!”