Hold Me Thrill Me Kiss Me Kill Me

Spike watched the boy walk home from the shadows. It wouldn’t do to let the lad actually think he was looking out for him, even if he was. Xander had been doing some odd jobs for people around town and many times he ended up working after the sun went down.

While it was obvious the lad took care to protect himself, Xander had the sort of luck that only the very fortunate had, or the very cursed. He’d walk past an alley and some vamp would make a move for him, but he’d drop his keys or bump into a passer by and end up talking to the git. Once he’d seen Xander almost become demon doggie chow, but the lad crossed the street unexpectedly and a car had hit the thing following him. All the while Xander went on his way; blissfully unaware that he’d just about met his maker.

So if Spike found himself bored and ended up following the lad, it was all right. Because Xander might need help and even if he didn’t it was fun watching his reactions to the world around him.

Tonight had been a good example. Xander was doing yard work for someone who Willy said was the Slayer’s Mum. It was well past nine-thirty but he kept working, weeding the borders and the like. Spike thought the lad was being more than daft, the Slayer’s house was a magnet for trouble, but when he’d got close enough he could detect the scent of several protection herbs, garlic included. Not that garlic affected vamps like it showed in the bloody movies, but anything with a halfway decent sense of smell would stay far away.

Then the lad had gone in and spent a half-hour sipping lemonade and the like before going home, as if he hadn’t a care in the world. But if you watched carefully you could see that he was being as careful as he could be, given the fact that he lived on the Hellmouth.

Xander was different than the others happy-meals that walked around the town; he actually thought about things first. Not that you’d notice, given the lad’s tendency to babble about anything and everything on his mind. It was a sort of camouflage, as far as Spike could tell.

After all, the same tactics that creatures used in the wild to survive being attacked by predators worked in the human world, the gits just didn’t realize it. Using bright colors and loud noises to divert a predator worked just as well for vamps as it did for bullies.

And certain Fathers that needed their heads ripped off and shoved up their arse.

Spike couldn’t help but have a sad sort of fascination for the way Xander changed the closer he got to his home. His long-legged gait would turn into shuffling and his shoulders would droop as if he was just waiting to be hit. He probably was.

Spike watched as Xander carefully went inside, he even took a chance and got close enough to listen as the lad made his way downstairs. Satisfied that Xander was as safe as he could ever be, Spike made his way to the more populated areas of town to hunt.

He wasn’t quite sure what made the boy so interesting. The only reason he gave was the fact that Xander didn’t hide himself away from the more gruesome facts of life. He actively went looking to read about Spike’s history, even asked if Spike had taken pleasure in ramming the railroad spikes into someone. Yet the next night when Spike showed up the lad didn’t hid behind crosses or holy water, he just asked what Spike was doing later on.

He was odd for a boy that followed the Slayer and was a do-gooder. And he soaked up information like a sponge. It was obvious Xander was dying for attention, and would turn to whoever took time out to teach him. Why the Watcher didn’t do it Spike couldn’t figure it out, but Spike was determined to make up for that.

Spike made his way through the crowds around the Bronze, finally settling on two annoying twins that thought it would be funny to dress alike for dinner. As he flirted with both girls, who turned out to be visiting for the summer, he made his plans.

After all, if Xander wanted to learn about the world and no one else would teach him, Spike would have to.

*****

Xander lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling. It was morning but he didn’t have to move. His parents were actually both out of the house and he could just lie there and enjoy the quiet.

Of course, when it was quiet that damned voice in his head started up talking to him again, but Xander was getting better and better at telling it to shut up. Luckily Willow would be home soon and between his repression techniques and her babble there wouldn’t be any room for worrying in his head. Well, except for worrying about when Spike and Buffy finally had their showdown.

The night before Spike had walked him home, again. Just talking about his day and whatever it was Spike was doing besides hunting for his fellow classmates to eat. Angel was back in town and Xander got the feeling that Spike spent a lot of time stalking the other vampire. How Angel didn’t realize Spike was in town, Xander couldn’t figure out. After all, they were related in a vampire way; Angel should be able to feel him or smell him or use some sort of vampire version of the Force.

Spike wasn’t sure either so he talked of getting some sort of spell that would hide both his scent and his presence from Angel, or Peaches as Spike called him half the time.

What had been really weird, though, was the fact that four fledges attacked them. He would have thought that Spike’s presence alone would have warned them off, but no. The idiot things attacked and Xander found himself fighting one while Spike took care of the other three. He dusted his right off but Spike…played with them. Breaking their necks and their spines so they couldn’t fight but would eventually heal unless they staked them.

Then Spike started going through their pockets, pulling out wallets and rolls of cash and rings and the like. Their gleanings from their killings. Xander stood there open-mouthed, not knowing what to do.

“Don’t just stand there, you git, go through their pockets. They can’t hurt you now.”

“But…but that’s someone else’s stuff!”

Spike had looked at him, his eyes drilling what felt like holes in his head. “Xander, the humans this stuff belonged to are dead, or vamped. They don’t need it anymore. Don’t worry, we’ll dust ‘em but why should we let good dosh go poof as well? It won’t go any good to anyone like that. I’ll even split it with ya’, and that way you’ll be able to buy a shirt or two that doesn’t make my eyes bleed.”

So there he was, on a Wednesday morning, well, mid-morning, and Xander had $100 saved up from doing yard work and fix-it type things, and over $300 taken from dead people. And it was a weird feeling, knowing that that money had belonged to victims.

But Spike was right, he didn’t know who it came from, couldn’t return it to someone’s family. Why not use it, or just use a little and give the rest away? There were plenty of charities in the Sunnydale area, a few for families of missing persons. He could give it to them or something.

He rolled over in bed and turned his CD player on. Anything would be better than listening to all the pros and cons of using money that was ill gotten. Heh, he could actually use that term. He'd always thought it was something that people like Giles used. His ill-gotten gains.

He turned up the music and buried his head under the pillows. He so didn’t want to think about it. Maybe he’d just mail it to UNICEF or something, weren’t there starving children in Africa somewhere? They probably didn’t care that it came off vamps that killed the people that earned it. As long as they got some rice and clean water, they’d be okay with it.

That was because they couldn’t afford to be picky. Considering that his wardrobe was shrinking thanks to demon hunting and the fact that he’d grown half an inch in the past month, he couldn’t really afford to be picky either.

That was his problem.

He was so intent on drowning out his conscience that he barely heard the knocking on the upstairs door. He finally crawled out of bed and pulled on a tee shirt and sweatpants while trying to climb the basement steps.

He didn’t even look out the peephole when he opened the door; after all, it was daylight. That was why he was so surprised.

“Willow! What are you doing home, I thought you got back in tomorrow?” He just knew he had a silly grin on his face. He had missed his Wills; it was like being peanut butter without the jelly.

“Silly Xander, I told you we’d get back in on Wednesday night and it’s Thursday. Where else would I be?”

“Ummm, ooops. I think I missed a day somewhere or other. Never mind, I’m just glad you’re here.” He turned and led the way back down to his room, but stopped when Willow called out his name.

“Xander? Why are you going to the basement, that place is stinky.” Her nose was squinched up in that adorable way, but Xander felt only the love of a sister for her.

“Sorry, Wills, you missed the day where I got moved into the basement to make room for Uncle Rory to stay when his wife kicked him out. It’s icky but it’s home.” And he really tried to sound like a brave little camper and not let the depression at that thought show in his voice.

“Oh! Oh, I’m sorry Xander, I’m sure with some…cleaning and straightening and air fresheners we can make it…”

“Smell like bad perfume over mold? Nah. Don’t bother, I haven’t even been in here all that much this summer.”

He flopped down on the bed and tried to straighten the covers for Willow to sit. She looked around and he had the distinct feeling she was waiting for something to move in the shadows. He couldn’t blame her. “So, what have you been doing since you’ve not been…here.”

Xander tried not to get flustered, really. He’d been prepared for that question, but he so hated to lie to his best friend. “Oh, you know, odd jobs, wandering around, hanging out. I planted some of those weeds you gave me to put in Buffy’s yard; I guess they’ve helped. I haven’t seen a vamp around the house.”

“That’s good. Did you go to the funeral?”

“Umm, funeral? What funeral?”

“Xander! Don’t tell me that you stopped reading the obituary pages!” Willow had her resolve face on and was scolding him. He ducked his head and didn’t meet her eyes.

“Okay, I won’t tell you.”

“This is serious, Xander! They found Larry’s remains along with two of his cronies in one of the storm drains about a half-mile away from here. It didn’t look like a vampire attack but something nibbled on them post mortem. It was in all the newspapers! It’s so horrible!”

Xander felt all the blood rush out to his feet or maybe even out of his body totally. He wasn’t sure. All he knew was that he felt really dizzy, as if the floor had moved underneath him, and not in a good way.

Because he pretty much knew what happened to Larry.