All I Need...

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Part 7

Three days. Or rather three nights.

Nights spent meeting up with Alex in the bar and just… hanging about chatting.

He almost felt like he was betraying Xander. But of course he would feel that way. It was what he got for actually enjoying the creature’s company, wasn’t it?

He wasn’t any closer to finding out what had happened to the human the being was aping, though, and maybe that was why it felt like betrayal.

Hell, he could almost believe it really was the young man, aside from the extra eye and that not-right smell… and the clothes. He couldn’t forget the clothes that constantly reminded him that he’d never truly appreciated the young man’s appeal.

Still, Spike found himself doubting that whatever it was he’d been spending time with would have hurt the man. Not that it didn’t have the ability to cause grievous bodily injury because he could tell the creature wasn’t the sort to be shy about doing what needed to be done, but…

He shrugged to himself and sipped his drink.

There was just something about Alex that made him believe that he’d never unnecessarily harm another being. Not even the human whose face and body it had stolen.

He had moments when he wondered whether Giles was right and if Alex really was Xander Harris, but… he couldn’t get past the eye and the smell.

One more night, he figured. One more night of faux friendship and one more day of cruising the internet demon sites until he felt like his eyes were going to explode gobbets of blood and tissue onto the screen and he’d do it.

He’d do the one thing he’d promised himself he’d never do.

He’d call Angel for help and see whether the vast resources of Wolfram and Hart could find out what he couldn’t on his own.

He sipped again, ignoring the fact that it was a good twenty minutes past the time the bloke—or whatever—usually met him, just as he ignored the fact that his eyes had been locked on the doorway for that entire time.

“Where the bloody fuck is he?” he growled, ignoring his concern as well.

* * * * *

Xander was running late. He knew he was. Hell, he’d been running late all day and between trying to catch up with himself and still needing to do ordinary things like eat, bathe, dress and so on, his original five minutes behind had turned into a half an hour.

Not that he had anywhere he specifically need to be, he reminded himself as he pulled the slightly sparkly copper shirt over his head and tucked it into the tight black trousers he’d chosen to wear, but… he’d made his own internal schedule before turning in the night before and he hated to have it as screwed up as it was right then.

He blamed it on the unintentional nap he’d ended up taking out by the pool earlier.

His feet stomped almost desperately into the shoes he had ready and with a quick grab he found his room key and was out the door. Tonight was the night, he figured.

Tonight he’d find out what the surprisingly not-evil Spike-alike was up to.

Hell, he’d spent enough time with it to have a fair idea of its intentions and he couldn’t believe that it was up to anything that would make the original owner of its face and body cringe… even after the soul.

He spared a quick glance for the watch on his wrist and growled softly, choosing the stairs for speed yet again.

How was it that he was always rushing around for Spi… Will, he wondered before pushing the thought away and striding across the lobby to the bar.

His slight sense of worry evaporated completely as he saw the blond in their usual spot, obviously unconcerned by his tardiness.

“Just goes to show,” he whispered to himself, “You’re getting way too invested here. He couldn’t care less.”

Still, he plastered a smile on his face as he went to his bar stool, taking a sip of the beer the bartender set down as he sat.

“So… have a good day, Will?” he asked quickly, followed immediately by “Dozed off in the sun for a while. Sorry I’m late.”

* * * * *

Spike shrugged, not entirely sure about why his body suddenly felt more relaxed than it had mere moments earlier. “Not bad, ta tell ya true… an’ ya do look like ya got a bit more sun than usual.”

A frown. “Oh, sorry. I forgot about your uh… allergy. Didn’t mean to rub it in.” Xander sighed, shaking his head. “Hey, I saw this brochure today. The hotel does moonlight tours of the falls. I… well, I thought it might be the kind of thing you’d like, y’know? Uh, unless you have some business or something, there’s one tomorrow night…” Subtle, he congratulated himself. Good way to find out what ‘Will’ was up to.

One dark brow arched suddenly. “Business? Nah, mate. No ‘business’. On bloody holiday, aren’t I?” And in no way was he going to interpret the brunette’s words as asking him out. If it had been the real Xander, he might have considered it, but… that Xander was straight. Hell, that Xander would have been too busy giving him grief for coming to a place with so much sun on purpose to even bother looking for something they could do together after dark.

“An’ isn’t that a couples sorta thing, mate? Unless we’re datin’ an’ ya didn’t bother tellin’ me.” Spike smirked, keeping his tone teasing and light, entirely unprepared for the sudden burst of musky scent that tickled his nose. Well, well… the impostor wanted him. Hardly surprising but… “Bloody hell.”

And why was his heart tripping a mile a minute, Xander wondered. He didn’t want the not-Spike. He didn’t! He might—possibly—want the real Spike, but since he was dead it didn’t much matter, right? Right, he answered himself. Besides, even when he’d been alive, Spike hadn’t been interested. Not that he’d have taken him up on it even if he had been, but still.

“Dating? Who’s dating?” He looked around as though he was trying to figure out who Will was talking about then shrugged, blushing slightly when he smelled his own interest in the air. “Damn, that girl’s hot,” he added, trying to salvage the situation just in case he wasn’t the only one who’d noticed his scent.

Spike frowned, following the brown gaze to a petite and curvy redhead who was swaying languidly at the far edge of the dance floor. Right. Alex wanted someone but it for damned sure wasn’t him. “Yah,” he finally allowed, wondering why he was suddenly so… disappointed. “Not bad at all, mate.”

* * * * *

Two hours later and Spike was facing away from the bar, the edge digging slightly into his back as he prepared himself for a good laugh. That same stunning chit from earlier had finally approached and asked Alex to dance. Should be amusing, he figured, eyes locked on the young couple as the next song began.

“Bloody hell… Nine Inch Nails. Love this one,” he murmured, softly singing along You let me violate you….

And if he’d truly harbored any doubts about the dark haired man’s identity, seeing him dance would have eliminated them. The bloke was slick and sleek, his body shifting ever-so-subtly with the music to create a seamless, sensuous picture. He moved with the girl, brushed against her, hands skimming over far too much exposed and tanned skin…

Bloody hell, the thing was coming as close to having sex in public as could be managed while fully clothed and upright.

Spike growled low and deep in his chest, fingers tightening around his beer bottle until he felt more than heard the small crackling of stress fractures in the glass just under the music.

He turned slightly, setting the abused bottle on the bar before going back to watching the creature who’d stolen his Xan’s face, the same hand clenching tightly as he realized it wasn’t just the bloke and the bloody slut now… another bloke had joined the mix and this one…

Tall, also dark-haired, less toned than the Harris-thing but not bad… wearing t-shirt and jeans and… pressing up against the mock-human’s back.

He waited a moment, fist clenching harder, wondering how badly the whatever was going to hurt the man for horning in on his dance, and that was when he got yet another bit of proof that the being he was watching was definitely not the man it pretended to be because…

Xander Harris would never simply look over his shoulder at an unknown bloke and laugh. He’d never give a dark and inviting smile to a strange man practically humping his back. And he’d for bloody damned sure never pull the chit in front of him closer while he pressed back against the guy behind him.

The vampire snarled, barely managing to keep the demon suppressed. ‘Not our Xan,’ he told it quietly, aware that talking to himself might well be a sign of insanity, ‘not who it looks like.’

It was the sense of ‘don’t care, want’ that had him blinking and swallowing hard.

He was lucky that the soul disagreed, or disagreed enough, anyway, even if it was giving off a similar sense of want although directed at the true Harris and wasn’t that a kick in the jewels?

Had he wanted Xander all this time? He couldn’t have. He would have… would have known, wouldn’t he?

Well, maybe not, he realized. Not when he’d come back from this same continent, his mind a shambles and filled with images of the Slayer and his own past… full of the First and urges he’d been fighting to the best of his ability. And then… everything had been so rushed, too much going on, everything too immediate and panicked under the surface for all of them.

He’d hated watching that bastard take the boy’s eye; he remembered that… and he’d been so bloody… awestruck by the way the bloke had handled it, pushing it aside and moving on, not letting it stop him from doing what needed to be done even when his friends would have pushed him out of harm’s way…

And maybe that was the beginning, he realized. Maybe that was when his admittedly odd affection for the boy had started to become admiration and perhaps… desire, although he hadn’t realized it then.

Of course, the figure he was watching on the dance floor wasn’t the bloke in question, so… he could afford to think about what the sudden hardness in his jeans implied. And maybe it was just the increasing arousal rolling from the Xander-thing. He’d always been sensitive to other peoples’ excitement, after all, although rarely to the point of becoming excited himself.

“Bloody hell. I really am goin’ ta have ta call my Sire… fuck!”

He adjusted himself quickly and stood, catching wide, wicked brown eyes as the threesome still dancing turned. One hand rose, pointing at himself then to the door of the bar and he strode off at the nod he received.

They’d catch up the following night, he knew… and maybe by then Angel would have told him something useful. Like what the thing was and why he was suddenly responding to it so strongly.

* * * * *

Dancing. Dancing was good. Or it was now that he actually knew how. It was a seduction carried out in full view he’d learned, and somehow that idea appealed to him.

Hell, it had been ages since the last time he’d danced… and even longer since he’d enjoyed the actions it imitated. And the Spike-alike was gone, strolling off to God knew where for God knew what reason and that meant he was on his own.

Or not really, he acknowledged as large, strong hands came to rest on his hips, holding him hard against the suggestively moving hips of the man behind him.

He growled softly, still staring deep into the redheaded woman’s eyes, but when the guy leaned in and issued an invitation into his ear, he groaned and nodded. “Another time,” he directed to the woman, “and thanks for the dance.”

He watched her grin, shrug, and move off to find another partner and it was only moments later that he left the bar as well, not following a bleached blond this time but being followed by a tall brunette. And if a part of him that was hidden even from himself wished that same brunette were a certain snarky and truly dead vampire, well, who would know the difference?

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(A/N: MANY thanks to TheShadowCat, nulinka, Alice & Fenris Mourningstar (stop making me blush, damn it! :P) for the lovely and adored feedback! You guys kick some serious ass and I hope you'll continue to like this little story. *grins* More soon.)