Second Verse

--Rating---------------------
You have to wait a while, but there is eventually sex.
--Pairing(s)-----------------
Spike/Xander
--Feedback----------------------
Craved, needed like air, big old feedback whore here.
--Author's Notes-------------------
The most up do date version of this story is available at http://www.litgal.vague-disclaimer.org/
--Disclaimer-----------------------
Totally don't own these characters. I'm just playing in someone else's sandbox and not making ANY money at all. So, this and all later chapters are written just for fun.



The sun shone through the streaked windows of Xander’s bedroom eliciting a groan from the dark haired boy. Rolling his nearly six feet of lean body over onto his side, Xander threw an arm over his eyes and cursed; he could have sworn he closed his drapes, but obviously not. Pulling himself upright in his bed, he found his mother looking down at him with an ominous expression.

“Xander Harris,” she barked. Internally he groaned, but on the outside he just put on his most neutral expression and smiled with his big brown eyes wide. “What the hell were you up to last night?” she demanded with his jeans in her hands. Shit. In the dark, Xander hadn’t seen the large bloodstain on the knee.

“Nothing, mom. Gunn and Casey were horsing around and Gunn scraped up his knee, and I was down next to him, trying to help, and I must have gotten his blood on my jeans when I was down next to him—helping him.” Xander realized he was babbling, but he just couldn’t seem to stop. Damn, a simple answer would have been believable, but even he didn’t believe his Xander-babble. Obviously his mother didn’t either because she continued to stand there, unmoving, unsmiling, and definitely unconvinced.

“That Gunn is a gang leader if I have ever seen a gang leader, and I do not want you anywhere near that boy. When your father moved us to this god-forsaken city, I told him it was a mistake, but no. That man just had to have his way.”

“Mom, I’m eighteen and Gunn isn’t a gang leader and the whole thing with the jeans was an accident. I’ll wash them now,” Xander retorted as he got out of bed and pulled the jeans out of his mother’s hands as he started toward the bathroom. The last thing he needed was for his mother to start one of her diatribes against his father. Yes, the bastard had left the family after moving them to L.A., but in his defense, the man had believed all that crap about making it rich in real estate.

“I am still your mother, and I don’t want to outlive you. I’m calling your father.” Mrs. Harris beat Xander to the door and pushed him to the side as she left his room ahead of him. Xander yielded without complaint; he only rolled his eyes and continued toward the bathroom. What did she think dear old dad would do; the man never paid child support, he avoided visiting, and didn't even call except for holidays, and then the calls were short and generally painful.

Xander reached the bathroom and looked in the mirror. Was he really so unlovable that his father didn't even care? Nope, not going there. He just needed to get the blood out of his jeans as quickly as possible before he lost another pair. He could understand his mother’s concerns, but he didn’t think it would make her feel any better if he announced that the blood came from a vampire’s victim who he had tried to give CPR while Gunn and the “gang” dusted the vampire and his buddy. Nope. Not going there either. Xander gave his reflection a lop-sided smile. At this rate, most of his own brain was going to be off-limits. Of course, other people had been telling him that he and his brains weren't on talking terms for years now.

“Mom, I have stuff to do,” Xander yelled as he left he apartment to the sounds of her arguing with his father over the phone. He only hoped his mother assumed he had work as opposed to having to look for work—again. He wondered if there were any fast food places in L.A. that hadn’t fired him yet. Once out on the street, Xander made a beeline for the warehouse that Gunn, Casey, and a half a dozen others had commandeered, turning it from a boarded up storage room into a bunk-house slash command central. Xander slipped in the door unnoticed and sat on an old faded floral couch that Casey and Troy had brought home late one night after patrol.

“Xander,” Gunn finally acknowledged, flashing a smile. Xander smiled back with a soft, “Hey.” He knew that he didn’t truly fit. He wasn’t one of the “brothers,” he couldn’t fight off a pack of fledgling vampires single handed, and he hadn’t grown up in the neighborhood; however, Gunn’s friendliness made all that disappear. Deep down in his heart, Xander realized he had a bit of a crush on Gunn, but he would never tell the tall African-American that. He didn’t *think* Gunn would beat the crap out of him, but the others might, and Gunn would certainly never let him stick around after that conversation. Xander found himself with itching fingers. Damn it, he had already told himself that his growing awareness of men's bodies, their firm bodies, their firm, muscular bodies were 100% off limits. Why wouldn't his brain just do what he told it to?

“We’re heading out on a supply run, wanna come?” Gunn asked

“Uh, no thanks,” Xander quickly replied. The guys might call it a “supply run” or “collecting the vampire tax,” but the police called it shoplifting. Considering Xander’s ability to find trouble, he didn’t want to take that chance.

“Man, you cannot keep trying to work some shit job all day and then fight vamps at night,” Gunn insisted as he put down the stake he had been sharpening and walked over to the couch. “You’re going to get your sorry white ass killed doing this,” Gunn commented as he gently smacked Xander on the side of the head.

“Not really a problem right now,” Xander admitted wryly as he rubbed his eyes. From Gunn’s comment, he knew he must look like shit, but the stress of the fight and getting fired had made a good night’s sleep difficult.

“Oh man, not again.” Gunn sat next to Xander on the bed. After a long pause, Gunn sighed softly. “I know a guy who might have a job—he went to high school with us before I dropped out although I doubt you ever met him. He didn’t exactly come to class much,” Gunn said in a voice barely above a whisper, "not that I did either."

“Don’t put yourself out,” Xander quickly responded. “I don’t want your friend getting pissed with you because I call in sick or am too sore to lift some box.”

“That’s why you lost this last job?” Gunn asked quietly. Xander loved the fact that he got to see Gunn’s quiet side—the caring side of the man who usually spent his time beating the shit out of vampires and fighting off the gangs that tried to make this small slice of the LA inner city their own. No one could doubt that this territory was Gunn’s, and Xander thanked god that his parents had chosen this section of town.

“I dropped a crate of glasses,” Xander admitted. “Have you ever heard 60 glasses hitting a tile floor all at once?” he asked with a small smile. “Impressive. It sounded like someone had driven a car through the big window. Hell, two people jumped right out of their chairs.”

“Damn, you do know how to make an impression, don’t you?” Gunn gave Xander a second slap on the side of the head, and Xander found that he enjoyed even this limited physical connection to the large man. “I doubt T will want you dropping his glasses, but he’ll understand if you’re too sore to do your normal lifting,” Gunn continued.

“Understand as in…”

“As in I saved his ass from three vampires a while back. He’s in the know, so tell him you got your ass kicked covering my ass on patrol and he’ll cut you some slack. You go see him or you stop coming on patrol—I’m not going to have you turned because you’re too damn tired to do anyone any good. Course—the offer to let you stay here and do a bit of tax collecting with us—that offer’s still open.” Gunn finished.

“Um, the tax collecting thing? I’m thinking no. I’d get caught and you know it.” Xander mumbled as he tried very hard not to think about Gunn and Gunn's ass in the same sentence. In his mind, covering Gunn's ass took on whole new meanings.

“Most of the business owners don’t mind—they know what we do. And Luther won’t give you any trouble at all if you stay here,” Gunn nodded over toward the short, heavy set Luther who was currently restringing a crossbow. Every chance he could, Luther expressed his dislike for Gunn’s only white crew member.

“Yeah, well I can handle Luther—well, okay, I can’t handle Luther, but I can ignore his random insults…and I don’t mean to suggest that what you’re doing isn’t legit, I mean you provide a real service to the neighborhood and I wouldn’t—”

“Xander, breathe,” Gunn finally ordered with a quiet laugh. “I’m not trying to back you into a corner. You stay here, you don’t—it’s your choice.”

“I just don’t want you to think…” Xander froze. How could he finish the sentence without sounding condescending? Most of him understood the system Gunn and his guys used, but another part of him really didn’t want to get involved in the less legal parts of the system. Part of him still believed stealing wrong, even if it allowed the guys the time to concentrate on vampire hunting, and the vampire activity had certainly increased recently. “I don’t mean to suggest…” Xander’s voice faded out again.

“Forget it, man. I don’t take it personally. You got more heart than any ten other guys I know, and I know you just aren’t comfortable with the way life is here. We do what we gotta do to take care of the neighborhood. That doesn’t mean you have to.” Gunn assured Xander with a small squeeze on his upper arm.

Xander felt his blood rushing to new zones: his face reddened and his groin tightened into a familiar knot that he hurried to cover by leaning forward to retie his sneaker. Of course leaning over didn’t help the problem, but at least he wouldn’t reveal his problem to Gunn. Xander just wished he could reach out his hand and run it down Gunn’s well developed leg, sliding it around to the inside of his thigh. ‘Oh, Xander,’ he thought to himself. ‘Xander you’d better just stop now or you’re going to have to retie this sneaker for the next week.’ Luckily Gunn didn’t seem to notice.

“I just don’t know if you want to work for T; we could find another place I suppose.” Now Gunn seemed to be nervous; Xander could see Gunn studying his fingernails with great interest. Anything capable of making Gunn nervous terrified Xander, but on the good side fear made the blood retreat from his cock. In fact, his balls seemed to be climbing back up into his body.

“Gunn?” he asked warily.

“He runs a club that might make you a little nervous—no offense, but you are a little white-bread,” Gunn pointed out with a smile. He absent-mindedly ran his hand over his shaved head, a gesture Xander associated with eminent danger.

“White bread?” Xander asked. “The only people who think I’m white bread are standing in this room,” Xander sat up and gestured toward the nine young men engaged in various activities across the room. Casey and Luis battled it out on a Playstation set up on a plastic milk crate; Luther still fought with the broken crossbow, by the expression on his face, Xander guessed he was softly cursing. Fredrick, Lou, and Trey all slept on pallets laid out on the floor, catching some sleep after the previous night’s excitement. The same vampire that had caused the wound that bled all over Xander’s jeans had thrown Trey into a brick wall and his buddies had nearly killed Luther and Fredrick. In short, everyone was rather short-tempered and tired today. “If I hung out with anyone else, my whole vampire-bait act and front-line first aid performances would qualify as high-drama. It’s just compared to you guys that I end up looking white-breadish.”

“True ‘nough,” Gunn agreed, “but I still don’t know whether you want to be around T’s type of scene. He runs a club over near Glitters,” Gunn finished and Xander’s breath caught in his throat causing him to make a small strangled noise. Glitters sat at the center of gay island in the center of the club district. Gunn must have heard the noise because he quickly continued. “We can find you some other place, man, no need to choke.”

“No, it’s fine. If he’s willing to give me a chance with my employment record, I’ll give it a try. Gotta be better than scraping grease out of exhaust fans or washing dishes. I mean unless he wants me to clean out his exhaust fans. Cause I need the money, so I’ll take the job even if he does want me to clean the fans…or wash the dishes.” Xander stopped when he noticed Gunn was laughing. Xander-babble strikes again, revealing his nervousness but hopefully not its cause.

“Makes you that nervous, huh?” Gunn asked. “But you’re still gonna take the job—I’ll give you credit for having balls, and you just tell T that the guys have to lay off you or I’ll come down there and have a conversation with anyone who gives you a hard time,” Gunn promised. Xander sat on the odious couch in absolute shock. Within a matter of seconds, Gunn had given him an excuse to spend large amounts of time in exactly the place he wanted to be, and he had expressed the sort of protectiveness that Xander found incredibly sexy. He took a deep breath to try and counteract his body’s attempt to send all the blood to his crotch. He wished, for only the five millionth time, that Gunn had any interest in him at all. Of course, his luck held, and Gunn remained 110% straight, at least publicly. Who knows what Gunn did in private, but that's not the kind of relationship he wanted. He'd hid long enough, so when it was time for him to fall for some guy, he wanted to be obnoxiously public about it. God, fall for a guy, he was turning into a real girl. Next thing you know he was going to buy romance novels at the grocery story, Xander thought to himself.

Simple fact: he wanted permanence, someone who publicly acknowledged him. He wanted someone who found him so irresistible that he couldn’t keep his hands off. The real problem was that Xander knew just how resistible he could be. Gunn had this presence—this grace during a fight and strength that no one could resist. Luther had this whole dangerous thing going for him. A fight with a tall older vampire had left Luther with a long scar down his right cheek so that Xander tended to think of words like rakish and striking and daunting every time he saw the man. Casey had this quiet almost child-like charm that he often used to beguile half the females in LA all at the same time. Xander realized that he had nothing to offer compared to any one of these men. Even on patrol his job was to stay safely behind the others and help anyone who fell during the fight.

The first time he met these men, he had recently transferred to their high school, and he had foolishly gone out on a late night walk to avoid one more parental fight. Four of them had rescued him from a vampire attack that had left him seriously short on hemoglobin. Compared to them, he was weak, plain, and utterly white-bread, and despite his objection earlier, he suspected that he would have played second string no matter where he ended up. Maybe fate decided that it needed a comic relief to balance out all the heroes and Xander’s name had just come up.

“So, what’s the name of his place?” Xander finally asked, realizing that Gunn watched him with a curious expression. No doubt he had stood there zoning for long enough for Gunn to start worrying, but Xander wasn’t about to share his private thoughts with the man.

“It’s called Safari. It’s over by the Walgreen's on the corner. Go in and give him your name. I’ll call and make sure he knows who you are.”

“Thanks Gunn.” Xander stood up and just stood there for a minute, unsure of how to express his gratitude without expressing slightly less appropriate feelings. After all, Xander had no death wish, and lusting after Gunn in the middle of the crew would shortly lead to much Xander-beating, and he knew it. After a second or two, he turned and left the room without another word. Next stop: one serious mega-sized life change, or so he hoped. His life could use some changing.