Playing to Win

Switching Sides


Disclaimers and Summary: see chapter 1

A/N: Things start to pick up in this chapter, but it is the first of a two-parter, so be prepared for an abrupt ending... As always I love feedback, and I will always try to address any questions or comments you make :)

ETA: I realised that the formating here was making some things unclear, especially in the last chapter - there are scenes that are flashbacks intertwined with real time all through the fic; unfortunately I forgot to format it so that it would be clear what was happening... Hopefully it makes more sense now. Thank you everyone who has read and reviewed - your comments are encouraging and helpful :)


Spike trudged through the streets of Sunnydale, cursing that he had somehow dropped his last pack of fags during the shag…, no, that wasn’t right; it was more than that… In any case, he now was really in need of a smoke, and he was forced, thanks to the chip, to go into the menacing lights of the local 7-1SpikSpike sighed as the fluorescent lights hit him; they really did nothing for his complexion – good thing Angelus was gone by the time they came about. The low chuckle Spike gave at that thought made the nervous kid that came in behind him dart off to other, far away, parts of the store. Suddenly the dare his friends made him to buy condoms seemed like a much safer thing to do than being anywhere near the terrifying vision in black leather that stalked in like he was going to kill everyone in the place – and that they might even like it.

The deeply shamed vampire tried to get he he needed as quickly as possible, dreading the moment when he would get to the counter, knowing that all he had was a bluff, a flash of fangs, to get away without paying, and he absolutely would not bloody pay. It was so wrong that he had to be there in the first place – when he should have been ripping people’s throats out and taking what he needed… and was that marshmallow fluff covered in chocolate? Spike’s eyes gleamed as he reached the candy aisle.

A whistling vampire, swinging a red shopping basket full of chocolate, a six pack of Harp and a carefully buried box of ‘perfect platinum’ hair bleach, made his way up to the counter. The 8 bottles and 12 fun-sized Mounds candy bars, bloody brilliant things, he had consumed while ‘shopping’ had lifted his mood considerably. He was just breaking away from the soap opera digest display when the doors to the 7-11 burst open. A gang of vampires strode in, trying their best to look as dangerous as possible, in spite of the fact that even being dead hadn’t been enough to help the leader’s acne problem.

The silence was broken by the very loud whisper from one of the vampires in the back, shuffling nervously back and forth.

“Don’t forget the beer.”

“We’re dead, moron, it’s not like they’re gonna card us,” the vampire next to him, wearing a t-shirt that announced that he dialled 1-800 Call ATT, said mockingly.

”Just get the stuff and kill… and stuff,” the leader commanded.

The vamps went wild – well as wild as a bunch of two former chess club members, one towel boy and the guy that once streaked during pep week can be – at that inspiring battle cry. Spike slunk off to the side, amused at this group of wankers that thought the height of evil was stealing beer from the 7-11. It was almost embarrassing to be a vampire.

One of the minions, the one Spike had informally dubbed ‘geek-boy #1’ was suddenly very interested in the display of very cheap and almost toxic smelling perfume next to the counter. Looking around in a hilarious parody of shop-lifting, he pocketed a bottle of one that he was sure his new girlfriend would love, L’moure Diabolique; it was French, and she was always going on and on about France and how her ‘last boyfriend was going to take her… blah blah blah’. The mood suddenly changed as he stepped up to the terrified clerk who was holding a gun, aiming it randomly at each of them, and calmly took the gun from the man as he vamped out.

At the flash of fangs Spike suddenly leapt into action. Later he would have no answer, at least none he would admit, to why he decided to save the clerks life. He should have stood cheering when Jimmy, who had been eyeing him like he was a bloody criminal since he walked through the door, got his throat ripped out; hell, he should have been giving pointers, bathing in the blood, possibly taking up a new calling as a mentor. Instead he spun the grinning vampire around and staked him. Unfortunately, in the process, the bottle of perfume that had been stashed in the devoted boyfriend’s pocket flew out in some sort of tragic parody of a slow motion save. Unable to avoid it, Spike let out a groan as the bottle splashed all over him, dousing him in the most noxious stench he had ever smelled, which reminded him of Harmony for some strange reason. With an internal shudder at her memory, he turned and walked away, fending off offers from the lackeys to be his new minions and picking up his loot. Spike sniffed himself cautiously and winced; he really needed a shower… now.

Feeling much better after a shower and a smoke, Spike ventured out again, rueing that his treasured leather still vaguely smelled like a bouquet of flowers vomited on it despite numerous attempts to clean it. Spike had been thinking a lot about the previous night, and wanking too, and he needed to see Buffy, talk to her and go back to grudging hatred. Because, right now, all he felt was a strangely peaceful hum when he thought of her, like there was an understanding that hadn’t been there before, forged in lust and pain. It wasn’t right.

He also needed to see Xander because last night had also forced him to see, with perfect clarity, that although he understood the slayer, he wanted – no, he craved, that dark haired boy.

As luck would have it, Xander was running at that moment from parts of town to other parts, and Spike just happened to be right in between those parts, directly in his path actually. With a muffled thud and some cursing, the two men tumbled to the ground.

Xander was the first to move, strangely wishing he could stay in contact with the leather covered hard male body under him for a little while longer. With a groan, he rolled to the side and lay on the hard pavement. He just wanted to stay there and bask in the comforting smell of smoke, leather and perfume? This was new.

‘Or maybe not so new,’ Xander thought, as the scent started bringing back memories of high school trauma better left bottled up in a pretty glass bottle.
“That’s a new smell you’ve got there Spike, trying something different you’re your normal aroma of blood-drenched villainy, are you?” Xander questioned scathingly, assuming that Spike had been with some girl, probably Harmony again, judging from years of smelling that particular bouquet right before suffering horrible belittling from a nasally vapid now-vampire.

Spike looked up at him, distracted by the way the blood was so fetchingly pumping through the boy’s veins and colouring his skin with a flush of exertion that could be mistaken for passion.

“How could you do that to Buffy?” Xander accused Spike, silently adding ‘and me’ before his inner voice chastised him.

Spike was about to answer, or rather continue to stare at him blankly while lust battled with confusion to effectively cut off his ability to think... or even speak – since the two didn’t necessarily go together when it came to him, when Xander cut him off impatiently.

“You know what – I don’t care. We have more important things to worry about right now,” he said, literally waving it off with grand flapping gestures to hide the tremor is his voice.

“I don’t have time to be jealous of an evil, disgusting thing like you, or of my best friend or anything else that my twisted mind seems so eager to come up with lately, and I want to blame you, but I have a feeling that, as usual, you’re only the ‘little bad’ here.”

“Hey now!” Spike was able to protest.

But the young man was on a role.

He stalked around, flapping his arms madly, making Spike admire the way his shirt pulled up nicely to reveal a surprisingly firm abdomen. The vampire struggled to pay attention to what the boy was saying, but it was a futile effort as his gaze landed on parts lower. Apparently Buffy wasn’t the only one to get aroused when they argued with him. Smirking to himself, Spike almost missed Xander saying…

“… Buffy and Faith,” Xander continued his rant, and Spike started at the wave of fear and lust that rolled off the boy.

“So, we need to get to the watcher’s post-haste, right?” Spike interjected impatiently, not bothering to ask why they were worried about Buffy’s religious crisis; although, he suspected it had something to do with him.

“I’m going to go take care of something; so you go on ahead, and we’ll meet up at his flat yeah?” he continued, staring at the adorably flustered boy in front of him as if deciding something.

As Xander gave a muted nod of assent, he felt cool lips capture his in a surprisingly tentative kiss. This was a sigh rather than a shout, and when it ended, it ended on a whisper. Pulling away was like going back to hell.


TBC...