Rating: NC-17
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer is trademark 20th Century Fox. The
world of Buffy the Vampire Slayer and the characters within are derivative of
works copyright © 20th Century Fox, 1997-2004. No copyright infringement is
intended.
Distribution: The Mystic Muse: http://mysticmuse.net
Nothing Like the Sun: S/X –
http://www.nothinglikethesun.com/SX/
Feedback: Yes, please.
Spoilers: After season 5. AU after that. No Buffy.
Author's Notes: This fic has been heavily influenced by some or all of the following: the BTVS episodes
"Life Serial" (the mummy hand section) and "Dead Things" (the fight with the time-shifty demons);
the movies Groundhog Day, Run Lola Run, Donnie Darko, Happy Accidents,
and Being John Malkovich; the entire television series Quantum Leap; the "Deja Voodoo"
episode of the television series The Dead Zone; the Babylon 5 episodes "Babylon Squared"
and "War Without End (Parts 1 and 2)"; and any other time-loop or time-shift story I've ever encountered.
I haven't purposely stolen anything in particular from any of them, but they're no doubt all stirred up
together in the mix that is my brain. There've also been many similar movies and television episodes and
whatever that I haven't seen, of course. For example, in the fic, Xander refers to the "Been There, Done
That" episode of the television series Xena: Warrior Princess, which I've never seen, but which my
husband assures me was hysterical. And I should point out that this whole fic was in fact inspired by my
husband's off-hand remark (while watching The Dead Zone), that "Every science-fiction
show has to have a Groundhog Day episode," to which my brain immediately replied, "SPANDER!"
Pairing: Xander/Spike
Summary: Xander finds himself stuck with Spike in a "Groundhog Day" type of time loop.
When the fight was over, Xander was still lying in the grass, blinking to try to clear his vision. Spike stood over him, not mocking him for getting smacked down by the spiny demon, just extending a hand in a silent offer of help. When Xander reached up, they clasped hands and Spike lifted him to his feet.
They turned and walked on as if nothing had happened. Spike was flipping his knife into the air, catching it by the handle, flipping it into the air, catching it again. It was a habit he'd picked up over the summer for no apparent reason. Sometimes Xander wished he could flip a knife like that – it looked so cool – but imagining what his hand would look like with no fingers always cured him of any desire to fling sharp objects around.
Xander rubbed the back of his head, where a large lump was forming. He must have hit his head when he got thrown to the ground during the fight. Great. Why was he always the one who got tossed around like the morning newspaper? Oh, right…because Spike was the one running around killing things. Nice buddy system they had going there. Xander glanced back at the collection of spiny demon parts on the ground behind them as they walked away. "That both of them?" he asked. It was hard to tell, what with the unidentifiable parts and all.
"Nah. The little bastard buggered off while I was ripping the big one's head off." Spike flipped his knife into the air and caught it. I wish I could do that, thought Xander. But Spike was still talking, grumbling, "Can't even get a good fight around here these days."
Any fight that involved him hitting the ground hard enough to cause painful lumps was plenty of fight for Xander, but Spike seemed restless. Xander rolled his eyes and said, "I'm so sorry the Hellmouth is not satisfying your vampire entertainment needs."
Spike flipped his knife and caught it, the blade gleaming sharp and silver in the moonlight. "You should be sorry, brat. Few things more dangerous than a bored vampire." He flipped his knife and caught it. It was strangely hypnotic. Xander tore his eyes away with some effort.
"Yeah? Well, there's a lot of things more dangerous than a chipped vampire. Like paper cuts, maybe. At least those can hurt me." Xander grinned.
"A newborn baby could hurt you, Harris." Spike shook his head, a hint of a smile twitching at his lips. The insults were old, familiar, but they didn't really hurt anymore. It had been a long summer, and they'd gotten to know each other a lot better since…since Buffy.
It was nice just to hang around with somebody and not have it be all emotional and weird. Spike had gotten a lot quieter since Buffy's death, but it was sort of nice to be able to just walk along with someone and not talk. Their silences were comfortable, sort of like the insults.
If it were Willow, it would be the "why won't you talk to me about how you feel?" silence that had been between them since that night at the tower. If it were Dawn, it would be the "tell me everything's okay" silence that seemed to follow her everywhere. He didn't really know Tara well enough to have anything in particular between them, which meant they experienced the "I guess I should make small talk" silence. The silence from Giles was pretty obvious, since he was back in England. And Anya…well…if Anya was around, it would be the "why wouldn't you give me what I wanted?" post-relationship silence.
But Spike…Spike didn't expect anything out of him, didn't want him to spill his guts or comfort him or make small talk or anything like that. Spike just walked beside him, flipping his knife, looking around in the darkness. Xander would die before admitting to Spike how comforting that was sometimes, to be able to just hang with him on their patrols.
It wasn't like they were friends, exactly, but things had changed after Buffy was gone. They'd all had to rely on each other more, especially after Giles left. They almost never mentioned Buffy's name. It was like they were all afraid that talking about her would upset the precarious balance they'd finally accomplished.
And so they didn't talk about Buffy, but they all pretended that everything was okay.
Spike didn't pretend that everything was okay. He didn't talk about Buffy, either, but he had just gone rather grimly quiet for a few months there, not talking much at all. He'd patrol, he'd spend time with Dawn, he'd fight when they needed him, but he was really strangely quiet. Lately, he'd slowly begun talking a bit more to Xander while they patrolled, just guy stuff: insults, fight talk, rants about something on TV, that sort of thing. And apparently tonight he was feeling bored.
"I heard Jonathan Richman's playing at The Bronze tomorrow night," Xander offered
Spike growled, "So?"
"So that's entertainment. And it's kind of a big deal for the Sunny D, don't you think? He's all famous and stuff."
"Jonathan Richman? That wanker?" Spike's voice was disgusted. "What a sell-out." He flipped his knife with a bit of additional frustration, so that it spinned an extra time before he caught it. That's so cool.
"What do you mean 'a sell-out'?" Xander rubbed the back of his head. Man, that lump was getting big.
"The wanker was one of the forefathers of punk rock. Used to be…"
And that's when it happened.
Xander probed the bump on his head just a bit too hard and then it really hurt. He closed his eyes with a grimace of pain, hissing, "Ow!"
{blink}
And when he opened his eyes, everything was different. He still had his hand holding the back of his head, and it still hurt, but he wasn't in the cemetery anymore. And he wasn't wearing clothes. And Spike was standing really close to him. And Spike wasn't wearing any clothes, either.
What the fuck is going on? No! No 'fuck'! What the hell? Yeah, 'cause this would definitely be hell. Me, naked, with Spike.
And the even worse thing? Spike looked incredibly pissed off, like he wanted to rip Xander's head off and use it for a bowling ball.
Okay, I don't know what's going on here, but this seems like a good time to cover myself and run away like a big girlie man.
Unfortunately, it didn't look like that was going to happen, because something very strange was going on. It was like Xander was inside his own body, but he wasn't in control of it. He was panicking on the inside, but he just stood there, naked, gazing back at a naked, pissed- off Spike.
Is it a spell? It must be a spell. Because I have no idea how I got here or why it feels like I'm just watching what's happening, instead of really being here.
But, in all honesty, it didn't feel like a spell. It felt more like…a memory. But that was so not possible, because Xander was pretty sure he would have noticed if he'd ever been this up-close-and- personal with Spike nakedness. They'd been roomies, sure, sort of, but not that kind of roomies. Not naked roomies.
How do I get out of this? I hope Willow knows about the spell and is working on saving me, because I just don't even want to know why the whole nakedness thing is going on. I just want to get out of here. Preferably clothed. Clothed and in full possession of everything on my body that dangles.
Actually, now that he thought about it, not everything was dangling. Mr. Happy seemed to be enjoying the proceedings quite a bit. And, okay, that was so so much worse. Naked with Spike, and sporting wood.
Spike had been staring at him all this time – though Xander wasn't sure how much time had passed – but Spike now walked across the room toward the bed.
Bed? Hey, that's my bed! What are we doing in my apartment?
Xander wanted to avert his eyes, not look at naked Spike as he walked across the room, but he didn't have control over his own eyelids, and he was forced to watch. And he was oddly mesmerized by the movement of muscles in Spike's butt.
I am not staring at Spike's butt. I'm not I'm not I'm not! How do I get out of here? Help!
Spike turned to look at him again and raise one eyebrow, his mouth still set in a tense, angry line. "Got any lube?"
Xander felt himself nodding, while inside he was screeching, Lube? LUBE? Why do we need LUBE? Oh my god! This really is hell! Aloud, he heard himself say, "In the cabinet by the bed."
Spike opened the drawer and rummaged around a moment, then pulled out a small bottle, which he then tossed onto the bed. He turned around and eyed Xander again. His voice was harsh when he said, "That'll come in handy when I fuck you in the ass."
Inside, Xander was running around in panicked circles, making ridiculously frantic squawking noises, but he could feel his body react very differently. His cock throbbed and he licked his lips. His face felt hot, like he was blushing, and his voice sounded kind of nervous when he replied, "Yeah, I guess it will."
What the fuck? What the fuck? Why would I be okay with this? Because I just can't imagine a universe in which I would be okay with this. Did Spike threaten to kill me if I didn't do what he said? Or did he drug me?
But, again, it didn't really feel like he'd been threatened or drugged. He could feel how his body felt, and his heart was beating fast, his cock was hard and aching, and his lips were sort of swollen and sensitive, like he'd been kissing really hard. And there was a familiar sort of tension in his stomach, tension of the Oh, yeah, I want this variety, a tension he had mostly felt before first kisses, when he knew what was going to happen, but felt a little scared and a lot excited and really really nervous. He'd never really felt that way about sex, because with Faith it had all happened too fast and with Anya it had just been so…pragmatic. Both she and Faith had just sort of told him what to do and taken what they wanted.
"Then come over here and suck me off," Spike said, and Xander felt his heart race faster. Okay, so maybe he sort of liked being told what to do – but not by Spike – and that didn't mean this made any sense whatsoever.
Why Spike? Why am I here with Spike? Okay, so he's not so evil anymore, and he's almost sort of my friend, but he's still a guy, and a vampire, and…uh…definitely not hot. I mean, I don't think he's hot. Well, I mean, I can see how girls would think he was hot. But I don't.
But he was walking slowly toward Spike, who was now leaning casually against the tall footboard, his – not hot not hot – ass resting slightly against the top edge, his left hand resting on the bedpost. He watched Xander with a slight smirk on his lips. He had a sort of "lord of the manor" look about him, lounging there, waiting for Xander to…to…service him.
Xander didn't stop walking until his body was lightly brushing Spike's, his feet spread so that Spike's legs were pressed between his thighs. Xander watched Spike's face for a long moment, and then leaned in and kissed him.
It was different from any kiss Xander had ever experienced, harder, rougher, hungrier. His body was almost shivering with the intensity…he could feel a slight fluttering trembling inside his chest and he thought maybe his hands were shaking. Spike's lips were soft, but his tongue was wet and strong and demanding, thrusting into Xander's mouth over and over again, tangling with Xander's tongue, making him clutch Spike's upper arms in his hands, until at last Xander had to pull away to catch his breath. He was panting. Spike's hands were tight on his hips. They stared at each other.
Watching all of this, feeling it, feeling Spike's kiss, feeling his own body's reactions, Xander was having trouble forming any coherent thoughts. No one had ever kissed him like that. It was so…well…yeah…hot.
Xander slowly slid down Spike's body until he was kneeling on the floor. Spike's cock was right in front of his face, and it was hard. Xander looked up at Spike, who was watching him, and then he wrapped a hand around the base of Spike's cock and took the head into his mouth.
Oh my god! I have a cock in my mouth! I have Spike cock in my mouth! What am I doing? It's a spell! It has to be a spell! A really really evil spell!
Xander continued licking and sucking, moving his way further down, getting more and more of Spike's cock into his mouth.
How do I know how to do this? Why am I so calm about giving a blow job? What…I just get down on my knees and suck off every vampire who tells me to? What kind of bizarro world is this?
Then suddenly Spike was manhandling him roughly until he was on all fours on the fake Persian rug. "Stay there," Spike growled before leaping to his feet and returning only seconds later to kneel behind him.
No no no no! This is not happening! Maybe it's a really really bad dream. A really bad dream which I will never ever tell anyone about.
Then Xander felt Spike leaning forward and wrapping an arm around him to grasp his cock with a slippery hand.
Spike is holding my dick. Spike. Is holding. My dick. This sentence makes no sense.
It felt good, though.
Hey, touching my dick feels good. It doesn't matter who's doing it. It's just…biology. But I can't believe I'm enjoying Spike giving me a hand job. Well, I mean, hand jobs are good, just by definition. But still…
And then Spike trailed a slippery finger along Xander's hole.
Ack! Danger, Will Robinson! Somebody help me! Willow? Somebody! I really don't like where this seems to be going.
Spike kept up a slow stroke on Xander's cock while he simultaneously worked on relaxing and opening Xander's body.
And now there are fingers! Fingers! No! No fingers! Please no fingers! Why am I just letting him do this to me?
The fingers inside Xander felt strange, but he'd read about the prostate. Even tried to find his once or twice in the shower. No luck, though. He'd figured that was why some guys liked the butt stuff – you know, the gay guys – but he'd never really understood the appeal until now. It actually felt…it felt weird…but it felt really sensitive, too. In a good way. Better than when he'd used his own finger – which had actually felt kind of good, too – just like somebody else's hand on his cock was way better than masturbating.
Again, it's just biology, right? It doesn't matter whose hand it is! But…Spike hand! Spike hand! Spike hand…in my butt! This is way wronger than any other really wrong thing.
He didn't know how many fingers Spike had inside him now, but it felt tight and slippery and sort of stretched, but not hurting. Something inside him was feeling even better than before, little brief flashes of something that made him buck and groan. He sort of wanted more – more something – because if this felt good, then more should feel even better, right?
No! I don't want more! I don't care if it feels good! If Spike said jumping off a cliff felt good, would you do it, too? No! No feeling good with Spike. Oh my god…I can't believe my dick is this hard when I've got Spike's fingers in my ass.
Spike was talking, interrupting Xander's panicked thoughts. "I'd just fuck you now," Spike said, his voice low and rough, "if the chip would let me. I'd hurt you, ride you hard, none of this slow and gentle crap." Spike's hands on him, both front and back, were speeding up and Xander was feeling the beginning of an orgasm building. "Never had anybody in your ass, hey? You'd be tight and hot and you'd scream when I pounded in."
Suddenly, the hand which had been on his cock was gripping the back of his neck, still slick with lube but holding him tightly.
Help! Vampire! Vampire has me! Naked gay vampire has me! Run away! Run away!
Spike pushed Xander's head down so that his cheek was pressed against the rug, his ass raised obscenely high behind him. Spike spat angrily, "Here's your last chance, boy. Run now or you'll be losing your cherry in about two seconds."
Why is he so pissed off about this? I'm the one getting shoved around like a whore. I'm the one who is apparently going to have a dick in his ass, and there's nothing I can do to stop it. I'm going to be raped! Raped by Spike! I am so going to kill him after this! Wait until Willow finds out! She's one bad-ass witch these days…oh…wait…no! Nobody finds out! I'll just kill him quietly and then no one will ever have to know that I…
And then he heard his own voice. "Please, Spike," he said softly.
What? Xander didn't know what to think. He really didn't sound – or feel – like Spike was forcing him to do anything. Not rape? But…
The hand on his neck relaxed and curved around the side of his head, encouraging Xander to raise his head and rise again onto his hands and knees, encouraging him to turn his head and look back at Spike, who had leaned forward again.
The fingers slid out of Xander's body and a thickness pressed against him.
Spike's cock, that's what that is. Spike is about to fuck me. And I asked him to do it. Yes, this is definitely hell.
Spike began to press forward, only the tiniest amount, but Xander felt that fullness inside him and moaned softly. It was so good…he never would have imagined. He wanted more.
I am not gay. I am not gay. I do not want to have sex with Spike. Ever. Why is this happening to me? What have I done to deserve this?
Now Spike was leaning forward and Xander was craning his neck around and they were kissing as Spike began to slide slowly inside. Spike's hand slid from his neck up to cradle his head, make it less awkward as Spike began to move inside him.
This feels…disgusting! Yeah. I don't like it at all. It feels gross. And terrible. Because I'm not gay. I mean, it's fine for gay people to like this – from a purely physical standpoint, it does feel pretty good – but not for non-gay people. Not for me. Nope. Not gay. Not liking the butt sex.
Their kiss grew more heated, Xander was feeling like he might come any minute, and Spike's hand on his head began to pull him even closer, pressing too hard on the bump on the back of Xander's head, making him wince slightly and think, Youch!
{blink}
"…worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though…lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander nearly fell down, but Spike stopped talking and caught his arm as he stumbled. They were in the cemetery again, just walking like they'd been before…before whatever that was.
A nightmare? But I was awake! I was just walking along, and then there was the utter insanity! Maybe I hit my head harder than I thought. Could this be a concussion? I've had concussions before, and they didn't involve frighteningly vivid imaginings of anal sex with the undead.
"Uh…what?" Xander stammered, pulling away from Spike's steadying hand on his arm. Try to act normal, Xander my boy. Don't want to have to explain to Spike why I'm freaked. Because that would be BAD.
Spike eyed him with what looked almost like concern. "You tripped over your own feet. I already knew you were clumsy, but this was something, even for you."
"Oh," Xander laughed, hoping he sounded casual. "I just…I wasn't looking where I was going. What were you saying?" He tried to look interested, hoping that Spike wouldn't ask any more questions.
Luckily, Spike just cast him another curious look and then continued walking, flipping his knife idly. "Was just explaining that Jonathan Richman is a sell-out former punk with bad rhyming skills."
As he walked, Xander's mind raced, trying to remember what they'd been talking about. He needed to act normal. Nothing to see here. Xander's just fine. No weird naked vampire fantasies. No butt sex. Just strollin' through the graveyard on a balmy autumn evening. Talking about Jonathan Richman. "But…uh…isn't he the guy from There's Something About Mary?" There, that sounded relatively normal.
Spike snorted. "Yeah, and ain't that a hard-driving work of musical genius. 'There's something about Mary that you don't knoooow'…like what, you tosser? That she's got jizz in her hair?"
Xander laughed a bit nervously and Spike stopped walking again, turning to look at him with obvious suspicion.
Xander looked away, afraid Spike might be able to see something on his face. They had a stand-off for a few long, silent moments, and then Xander hunched his shoulders and admitted reluctantly, "I think maybe I have a concussion or something."
"You do seem a bit stupider than usual."
Xander looked up to see Spike was smirking. He made a frustrated noise and said, "Gee, thanks, Spike. No, I think I hit my head when that spiny demon threw me around. And then I…I saw some kind of weird stuff." Xander continued quickly, "I definitely think something's wrong."
But Spike hadn't missed the vagueness. "What do you mean you're seeing 'weird stuff'?" he asked, peering more closely at Xander's face. "What kind of 'weird stuff'?"
Xander jumped further away and looked down at the ground, blushing. "None of your business! It's nothing! But it's weird, okay? It's definitely weird. And I want it to stop. So I need to see a doctor or something."
Spike arched an eyebrow and eyed Xander with obvious curiosity, but then shrugged. "Fine. Let's get you to a hospital, then, if everything's so bloody 'weird'."
Xander nodded vigorously, the lump on the back of his head still aching. "Yes, thank you, hospital, yes." Spike looked at Xander as if he had lost his mind, because yes, okay, he was probably acting a little strange, but that was because he was completely freaking out, not that he had any interest in explaining why.
Well, you see, Spike, I just had this little sudden vision of you fucking me up the ass while I begged for it.
Yeah, the hospital was a good idea, because it had to be a concussion. I mean, this was just too weird.
What else could it be?
Part 2
There and Back Again
Walking through Pleasant Hill Cemetery – which was neither pleasant nor hilly – on the way to the hospital, Xander started feeling a little ridiculous for making such a big deal about the whole thing. Okay, so he'd seen some weird stuff. Big deal.
Maybe I was just remembering a dream or something. I mean a nightmare. Actually, yeah, that's probably what it was. It sure seemed real, though.
Xander was just beginning to question whether he should tell Spike not to worry about going to the hospital when the sky abruptly opened up and pelted them with a sudden rainstorm.
"Argh!" cried Spike in frustration. "Can't anything go right today?"
Xander looked around the dark cemetery, hugging his arms tightly around himself, shivering. The night that had seemed so balmy only a few minutes ago seemed a lot colder when he was standing around in sopping wet clothes, water still pouring down his face, plastering his hair to his head.
"My crypt isn't far," Spike yelled over the sound of the rain. "We can go there to wait it out." Xander nodded and they jogged toward Spike's crypt, Xander's high-tops squishing in the mud.
When they got inside the crypt, Xander stood dripping on the cement while Spike went downstairs. He reappeared a few moments later and threw a towel at Xander's head. It hit him smack in the face, and he pulled it down and glared at Spike, who was vigorously toweling his hair so that it stuck up in wet curls. Xander started drying his hair carefully, not wanting to press too hard on the bump he'd gotten earlier.
Tossing his towel onto the nearby chair, Spike took off his duster and draped it over a wall sconce. Then he abruptly stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, beginning to towel off his naked upper body. Xander just stared at him. Spike's pale chest looked just the way he remembered it, and his abs were just as ripped as they'd been when Xander had slid down his body to kneel…
This is only freaking me out because of the dream. Normally, I wouldn't notice Spike at all. This is just some post-dream weirdness.
"Enjoying the show?" Spike's voice sounded amused, and Xander's face was suddenly so hot he thought it might just explode. Even the tips of his ears were burning.
"I told you I've got a concussion!" he snapped defensively. "I was just…uh…spacing out. I wasn't looking at you."
"Relax, Harris. I know you're not lusting after my luscious bod. Your loss." Spike's easy grin made it clear that he was just joking. He hadn't actually realized what was going through Xander's head. He had no idea about the dream thing.
Actually, now that I think about it, that should have been my first clue that it was a dream or a concussion or something. Because why would Spike be wanting to have sex with me? Okay, so he seemed really pissed off, so maybe he was doing it just to make fun of me or something. Fuck! What am I even thinking about this for? It was a dream! Or a hallucination! Or something like that…it didn't actually happen.
A hand waved in front of his face, and then Spike was leaning close to look into Xander's eyes. "You went a bit slack there again. Your pupils look all right, though."
Having Spike right in his face like that made Xander's blush flare even warmer and he jerked his head back. Spike got a wrinkle between his eyebrows that Xander knew meant he was about to start asking more questions, so Xander just stepped further away and began drying his face with the towel, patting hesitantly at his dripping hair. "I'm fine."
Spike shrugged and went back to toweling off his chest and stomach. Xander turned to look at the wall, hoping his face would stop burning.
"I'm gonna go get into some dry clothes. Make yourself at home." Spike gestured to the chair and television. Xander nodded vaguely.
When Spike was gone, Xander relaxed a bit. His clothes were sopping, but he doubted Spike would have anything that fit him, since his legs were longer and his shoulders were wider. Not that I've been noticing Spike's legs or shoulders. Man, this dreamhallucinationconcussion thing was really throwing him for a loop! Just because it had been feeling good there at the end…
No. Nothing more to that thought. It just ends there. I am straight. I like having sex with girls. Even if it's been a while since I did so.
Spike came back up the stairs dressed in his usual uniform of black jeans, black T, and red shirt. But, lucky him, they were all dry. Xander shivered again. The crypt really wasn't much warmer than outside in the rain.
"Storm should pass pretty quick," Spike said, walking over to the crypt door and peering out.
Xander nodded mutely, then decided he should be trying to carry on a conversation. "Yeah, rain never lasts long this time of year." Talking about the weather now? What is this, a date? It's just patrol. We should be talking about…normal stuff. What were we talking about before? Oh, right.
"So…uh…Jonathan Richman…he used to be a punk rocker, huh? Punk turned sensitive poet. What're the chances of that?"
Spike gave him an odd look. What…had he said something wrong? He thought that had sounded pretty normal. Then Spike smiled this strange little smile, like he knew something Xander didn't, and said, "You'd be surprised."
"What do you mean?" Xander asked, giving up on his futile attempts to pat his clothing dry with a towel. He pulled his t-shirt a bit away from his torso and began wringing it out onto the concrete floor. Spike didn't seem to mind.
Spike threw himself down into the armchair, dangling one leg over the arm and looking down at his fingernails in an oddly shy gesture. "The punk and the poet aren't that different," he said, still looking at his hands.
Xander snorted, feeling better now that they were back on familiar guy-talk ground. "Right. Because the Sex Pistols wrote such sensitive verse."
Spike looked up and smirked, looking much more like his old self. "Hey, don't knock it, Harris. 'God save the Queen, she ain't a human being' is classic." He pulled out his knife and started tossing it again. It was getting sort of irritating, actually, watching him always do that. Like he was showing off.
Xander didn't say anything for a long moment, and it seemed like the silence was a little less comfortable than it had been earlier that night. Now it was filled with all kinds of stuff Xander really didn't want to think about, let alone discuss. Spike tossed his knife, and Xander returned to trying to wring out his t-shirt. It would be easier if he took it off, but there was no way in hell that was going to happen. He glanced over at Spike again.
"So, I was wondering," Xander began hesitantly. Spike looked up and cocked an eyebrow. "You think you could maybe teach me how to throw a knife like that?"
Spike chuckled and replied, "You? You can't even walk without tripping over your own feet." But just as Xander was nodding and looking away again, embarrassed that he'd even asked, Spike continued, "Could give it a try, though. Pass the time." Xander turned back toward him, grinning. This'll be so cool!
They spent the next half-hour or so in companiable knife-tossing, and everything was good again. They were like buddies, just hanging out, doing guy stuff. Spike first made Xander just watch him, so that he could try to catch the rhythm. Then he gave Xander a stake to toss, instead, to see if he could catch it at the same end each time. When they finally heard the rain let up outside, Xander still hadn't worked up to flipping the knife, but he was feeling great that he'd asked and Spike had said yes and he was starting to learn.
As Spike pulled on his still-damp duster, he commented, "Could probably teach you to throw a knife in a fight, too. Something you could do from a distance, not get knocked around."
Xander almost bounced up and down – okay, maybe he actually did bounce, just a little, but no real man would admit to such a thing – and quickly said, "That would be great!"
The cemetery was muddy and depressing, but Xander felt like he was walking on air. He was learning to toss a knife! And was going to learn to throw knives in a fight! He pictured himself like the men in the magic shows, throwing knives to outline a nubile woman's body. He could do that! He could be knife-throwing Xander, the dangerously mysterious man!
They were almost to the entrance when Xander heard a low voice from behind them. "I feel the Jewel." And then there were hands on his neck, pulling him backward. Spike turned quickly and saw whatever was grabbing Xander, and he cursed.
"It's the fucking little one that got away earlier," Spike explained quickly. He punched over Xander's right shoulder, and suddenly Xander was released again, falling to sprawl awkwardly on the ground, trying to catch his breath.
"The little one?" he gasped, looking up at Spike's grim face. "That's not so bad, then, right?"
Spike jerked his chin behind Xander and growled, "He brought friends."
Xander's eyes widened and he turned to look. Three very large demons and one relatively small one were standing together a small distance away, and the small one was rubbing his jaw as if it was sore. They were all a green so dark it was almost black, with their backs and shoulders covered in sharp spines. The big ones all had huge, muscular bodies, like obscenely exaggerated weight-lifters. The small one eyed Xander and said firmly, "I can feel the Jewel."
Xander jumped to his feet and yelled, "Nobody's gonna be feeling any jewels, pal. Especially not my jewels!"
He didn't know if it was because of his yelling or if it was only coincidence, but that was when two of the larger demons lumbered forward and attacked Spike. The small demon began to smile, still watching Xander closely, and said, "You have been touched by the Jewel. And you shall lead me to it."
"I didn't touch anything!" Xander insisted, afraid to look away from the two demons in front of him to see how Spike was doing. He heard fighting still going on, and he trusted that Spike could take care of himself, but it was still nerve-wracking. The two demons facing him hadn't moved toward him again yet, but Xander was pretty sure they were just biding their time.
Then all sound of fighting behind him stopped and the little demon smiled wider. Xander couldn't take his eyes off of them. When one of the large demons that had been fighting Spike walked forward to join them, Xander thought, No! That's not the way it happens! Spike always wins the fights! He must be tricking them. And as the Spike- fighting demon turned and joined its two companions, a knife came flying from behind Xander and pierced the demon's eye. He – or it or whatever – fell to the ground, suddenly completely still. Xander felt Spike come to stand behind him again, though he still didn't turn to look, because that would mean looking away from the bad guys who apparently wanted to feel his "jewel." And that just wasn't going to happen.
Spike's whisper in his ear was so quiet he almost didn't hear it. "This is real trouble. So run. Get out of the cemetery…the entrance isn't far."
Xander was just turning his head to insist that he wouldn't leave Spike alone when the remaining large demon moved forward. This time it wasn't one of the bad guys who knocked him to the ground; it was Spike. "Run!" he yelled as he shoved Xander behind him, but Xander had been in the midst of turning his head, and so he lost his balance. God! Don't I always do stuff like this! I'm completely useless!
And then the smaller demon was walking toward him…and he was carrying a knife. It looked like Spike's knife. Did he pull it out of the other guy's eye? Ew. But then Xander suddenly realized that the guy who kept talking about feeling his jewels was walking toward him with a knife, and didn't that just conjure up the most frightening possible mental images? Xander started scooting away as fast as possible, but he was afraid to get up and start running because that again would require him to turn his back on Creepy Guy.
The small creepy demon licked his lips and grinned happily at Xander. There were still sounds of vigorously fighting coming from Spike's direction, but Xander had no idea whether Spike was going to get over here in time to save him. He had to figure something out to save himself.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," small demon guy said again, and Xander was getting really really tired of hearing him say that. "And when I hold your heart beating in the palm of my hand, you shall lead me to the power I seek."
Okay, that was scary enough to bring Xander scrambling to his feet, but he didn't have time to run, because the small demon was surprisingly fast, darting forward and lifting Xander by the throat so that his high-tops dangled a small distance above the ground. Then the demon turned him quickly, holding him from behind, one arm across his chest, and the grip was so tight that all Xander's struggles amounted to nothing. He saw the knife rising, shining silver in the moonlight, and he looked around frantically for Spike. He saw him not far away, still fighting the last of the spiny Schwarzenegger demons, though the other two lay on the ground unmoving. Spike looked badly beaten – one of his arms was hanging at an odd angle and his face was a bloody, swollen mess. Xander realized that Spike must have already been pretty badly hurt earlier, when he'd told him to run.
And then everything seemed to be happening in slow motion. The knife was shining as it came closer and closer to Xander's face, just like it had shone earlier when Spike was tossing it. Spike was still getting pummeled by the huge demon, blood running dark and red on his face from some unseen wound as his head flew back from a punch. The knife came closer and then gently touched Xander's throat, like a kiss. It sliced across in a smooth motion, and then there was wetness, just like the rain earlier, soaking his neck and his t-shirt. It didn't hurt. But he saw Spike's eyes widen, heard him scream, "Xander!"…saw Spike frozen in horror, saw the huge demon grab him from behind and twist, twist in a remarkably graceful motion, like he was removing Spike's head like a bottle cap. And then there was dust where Spike had been and Xander couldn't feel anything except the wetness and a sort of buzzing in his head, kind of like the noise of static on the TV late at night, and his eyes drifted closed.
{blink}
Xander opened his eyes and immediately noticed that the bump on the back of his head was hurting, that his hand was pressed to it. And he was standing in his bedroom. Naked. And Spike was standing really close to him, and he was naked, too.
Spike looked incredibly pissed off, like he wanted to rip Xander's head off and use it for a bowling ball. But at least Spike's head was right where it should be.
What the fuck? What happened? Did I die? I saw Spike get dusted, but he's right here, and he looks fine! In fact…this looks like what I saw in my weird concussion nightmare. Maybe this is a series of different nightmares? But, man, that seemed so real! I've never felt like that before. And seeing Spike get dusted! I mean, we've been sort of hanging out this summer, but…that was like seeing Willow or Dawn get killed. It was horrible. I don't ever want to see that again. Man, if this is all concussion stuff then I'm gonna start wearing a crash helmet everywhere I go, because I can't take much more of this.
Spike was standing over near the bed now. He'd apparently walked away while Xander was lost in thought.
"Got any lube?" Spike asked abruptly, his face tense and angry.
And Xander heard himself answer, "In the cabinet by the bed."
Oh god. Here we go again.
Part 3
Set It Right
The first time he'd found himself naked with Spike, Xander had been pretty damn freaked out. But now he felt almost…almost comforted by the fact that Spike was okay, and he was okay, and everything was happening exactly the way it had happened before. Nothing that had happened last time had hurt him, and he'd survived the experience, and so it really didn't seem quite so bad.
And, yes, a world in which I describe having Spike's dick up my ass as 'not so bad' is a world gone indescribably crazy.
Okay, so maybe naked romping with Spike was still more than a little disturbing, but it was infinitely less disturbing than both of them getting hacked to bits. There was a time, not all that long ago, when Xander would have sworn that he would rather die than have sex with Spike…but now he knew from experience that it was most definitely not true.
So he found himself much more rational this time. He was naked. Spike was naked. Naughty penetration was likely to happen soon. But Xander had other problems to think about.
Okay, have to think. What's going on here? What's the deal with the sex, then the dying, then the sex again? Are these nightmares? Am I having big time hallucinations? Am I actually really dead, and this really is hell?
But by that time, Xander had walked across the room and was kissing Spike, and the experience was just as distracting as it had been the first time. Spike's mouth was by far the most talented he'd ever kissed. Okay, so he hadn't kissed all that many, but you'd think a gaziliion-year-old vengeance demon would have learned a thing or two over the years. Maybe she'd been sort of hampered by the whole vengeance-against-men gig. It probably didn't really attract dates. Except, apparently, Xander. Huh. Well, he'd always had odd taste.
Spike's kisses were like nothing Xander had ever felt, as if their mouths were sliding against each other in an extremely pornographic dance. It was like having the hottest possible sex…with just your mouth. Xander could feel his cock rubbing against Spike's belly, brushing against Spike's cock occasionally in a touch that made his toes curl.
I was thinking about something. What was it? Damn…I can't remember…Oh god that feels good! Oh…I was thinking this might be hell. But…uh…if people get kissed like this in hell, then I wouldn't mind going. I mean, as long as it's girls I'd be kissing like this. Right.
Xander pulled away from the kiss to catch his breath, panting heavily, staring into Spike's eyes. And without the panic of last time, Xander noticed that Spike looked sort of strange. His face was all tight and his eyes were shiny. Spike raised his chin minutely, as if daring Xander to mock him for something.
Does he get a lot of people cutting him down after kisses like that? Man! No wonder I get so little play, if that's mock-worthy in today's market!
But now Xander was sliding down Spike's body, running his hands again over the familiarly muscular chest and stomach. Spike really was in good shape. As a guy, Xander could notice such things, without it being gay.
Of course, sucking on Spike's cock…well…that was arguably a little more into the 'gay' territory. But it was less scary the second time around. It still definitely gave him the wiggins, but it was a slightly less wiggy wiggins.
I can't believe I'm giving Spike a blow job again. Wasn't it enough I did this last time? And, you know, it's making my mouth sort of tired. Other than that, it's not so bad. I wonder why so many girls think it's gross. I mean, I hear that and read it in magazines and stuff…that's the problem with having friends who are girls. And I so do not think I'll be sharing this particular experience with them.
Being less distracted this time, Xander noticed that Spike's hips were making small bucks and thrusts whenever he fondled Spike's balls while sucking especially hard on his dick. And Spike moaned softly sometimes, too. That was kind of cool.
Not that I like giving him head, of course, but I guess at least it's kind of nice to know that I'm not terrible at it. Wait. That sounds kind of weird. Well, it would be sort of embarrassing to have repeated sex fantasies that involved me trying to give Spike head and him falling down laughing at me. Yeah. As far as sex nightmares go, this one's pretty tame. Or hallucinations. Yeah, probably a very vivid hallucination. Wait. Don't crazy people have hallucinations? Like…um…Son of Sam?
And then Xander was manhandled onto his knees on the fake Persian carpet and Spike was kneeling behind him. A burst of unexpected and utterly humiliating excitement hit Xander as he realized that Spike was just about to take hold of his cock.
Ooooh!
And there it was, right on time, Spike's hand all slippery and tight on Xander's cock, stroking him slowly. Xander heard a moan come out of his own mouth. Yeah, that's pretty much what I was thinking.
This time the wet touch against his asshole wasn't quite as much of a shock, but it still made something inside Xander squirm with nervous fear, though fear of what he wasn't sure. He did his best to think deep thoughts while Spike worked slick fingers inside him, firmly stroking his cock all the while.
It could be…uh…gah!…maybe I've gone crazy…oh! do that again! oh, right, he can't hear me…oh! but he did it again anyway! god!…maybe…it was all that…masturbation…unh! yeah!…aren't hallucinations a symptom?…oh god!…uh…my brain just couldn't…uh…uh…oh god!…yeah, maybe I'm…ready for the…oh sweet jesus…funny farm…
And then he couldn't think anymore, no matter how determinedly he tried, because Spike was inside him, Spike was fucking him and kissing him, and the kiss was even better than the one before, because it was softer without losing any of the urgency. Xander couldn't do anything except feel, with Spike in him everywhere, touching him, stroking him, making him feel…everything, all at once. It was as if he were drowning in sensations over which he had no control. He wondered what would happen if he were to come from this. Would his body come? Or would it just be him, in his thoughts?
Spike pressed into him a bit deeper and Xander arched his back, moaning, so close…so close…but then Spike's hand pressed too hard against Xander's head bump and Xander winced and thought, Youch!
{blink}
"…worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though…lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander nearly fell down, his body still reacting as if it were nearing orgasm, as if his limbs were all disjointed with passion. And his dick was undeniably very hard in his pants. As he stumbled, though, Spike stopped talking and caught his arm, keeping him from falling. Xander glanced around them in utter confusion, then looked directly at Spike, who was still holding his arm as if to steady him.
"What?" gasped Xander abruptly, still looking around. "What?" He just couldn't seem to find more words to express his confusion. He had died, and then had the sex hallucination again, just like it was before and making no more sense the second time around, and now he was back just walking along with Spike like nothing had happened? The insanity option was looking more and more likely. Xander hoped they had a nice padded room with cable TV. Maybe even pay-per-view.
"What're you asking, Harris?" Spike was looking at him uncertainly.
Xander looked around some more. Normal cemetery. Normal Spike…head attached…fully-clothed version. Nothing was weird. Nothing except Xander.
His voice quiet and uncertain, Xander asked slowly, "What just happened?"
Spike raised an eyebrow. "Nothin'. Just patrolling. Talking about that bloody Jonathan Richman. What, did my talk about his putrid poetry make you come over all sickly-like?" Spike smiled a sort of good-buddy kind of smile. But when Xander didn't laugh at the implied joke or respond in any away, Spike stopped smiling and just watched him with thinly-veiled concern, waiting.
Xander thought a long moment, aware of Spike standing impatiently, his head cocked to one side. Eventually, Xander looked up and said grimly, "Spike, I think I've gone crazy."
Spike raised both eyebrows in surprise. "Well!" he admitted with a sort of huff of breath. "Wasn't expecting that one."
"No, I'm serious. I might be a danger to self and others." Yeah, and I might spontaneously have butt sex with random hot vampires. I should be locked up to protect the innocent…and the evil…and my butt.
Once again, they weren't all that far from Spike's crypt when the rain started. Right on cue. Xander had decided that all of this – or something like it, anyway, but which made more sense – had probably really happened once, but his brain couldn't accept it all, and so he was just going around and around and around with these crazy thoughts. It must have been the sex. I must have had sex with Spike, and it drove me insane. Bats in the belfrey. They're coming to take me away, ha ha hee hee ho ho…
When they got inside the crypt, Xander stood dripping on the cement while Spike went downstairs. He reappeared a few moments later and threw a towel at Xander's head. It hit him smack in the face, and he pulled it down and glared at Spike, who was vigorously toweling his hair so that it stuck up in wet curls. Xander started drying his hair carefully, not wanting to press too hard on the bump he'd gotten earlier.
Tossing his towel onto the nearby chair, Spike took off his duster and draped it over a wall sconce. Then he abruptly stripped off his shirt and tossed it aside, beginning to towel off his naked upper body. Xander just stared at him.
This is exactly what he did last time! Everything exactly the same! Maybe the Spike sex drove me insane, and so I imagined the rest, and that's why it's all the same but weird. Maybe I only imagined getting him dusted, like revenge or something.
"Enjoying the show?" Spike's voice sounded amused, and Xander looked up in embarrassed surprise. Okay, so this time he actually hadn't been ogling the Spike nudity, so he shouldn't get mocked for it.
"I wasn't looking…" Xander started to say, but Spike interrupted him with a wave of his hand.
"Relax, Harris. I know you're not lusting after my luscious bod. Your loss." Spike grinned and kept toweling his hair and chest.
A long moment passed, during which Xander kept running over possible ways to begin explaining the problem to Spike, but every idea got discarded once it got past a certain point. He felt like he was panicking, but wasn't sure exactly why or what to do about it.
Well, you see, Spike, I keep seeing the same stuff over and over again, and none of it makes any sense. Thus far, I've seen two things twice: one is us here, and one is us rutting like crazed weasels on the floor of my bedroom. So what do you think it means?
Spike's voice interrupted his spinning thoughts. "I'm gonna go get into some dry clothes. Make yourself at home." Spike gestured to the chair and television. Xander nodded vaguely.
Vivid hallucinations. I'm having vivid hallucinations. Pretty soon I'll be talking to mailboxes and piling newspapers to the ceiling. My apartment could be like a newspaper maze. I suppose that could be sort of fun. Add a bit of adventure to every day. Being crazy might not be so bad. I'll bet it never gets boring. Especially if I'm going to keep having sex hallucinations. Because I might call those a lot of things, but I wouldn't call them 'boring.'
Spike came back up the stairs dressed in his usual uniform of black jeans, black T, and red shirt. But, lucky him, they were all dry. Xander shivered. The crypt really wasn't much warmer than outside in the rain.
"Storm should pass pretty quick," Spike said, walking over to the crypt door and peering out.
Xander nodded morosely. "That's what you said last time." His panic had distilled into something small and still and frightened. On its way to resigned, but not quite there yet.
"Last time?"
"Yeah, the last time we did this. Right before we died."
"Right before we…died." Spike's voice sounded awfully dubious on that last word.
"Yep. Died. We went walking out of here and ran into the demons and then I got my throat cut and you got your head torn off. It all pretty much sucked." Xander was still shivering. He wished Spike had a space heater or something.
"And you 'saw' this, did you? Like a vision?" Spike was eyeing Xander now with a familiar sort of speculation.
Xander walked away from the crypt door, holding his arms around himself and shivering slightly in his wet clothes. "I'm not your freaking Drusilla. I'm not some loony psychic vampire."
"No, of course you're not," Spike crooned comfortingly, but Xander only scowled, batting Spike away when he got too close and then scuttling to stand against the far wall.
Xander stared at Spike from across the room. "I told you I'm no longer riding the Sane Train. I don't know what happened, maybe it was the bump on the head," or the big gay vampire sex, "but I'm obviously looney tunes now."
Spike frowned. "I'm not so sure. There's a lot strange in the world, especially in the demon world. Tell me what you saw and I'll tell you what I think."
Xander sighed heavily. "Spike, I don't know what the hell's going on, but the only answer that makes any sense is that something funny is going on in my head."
Spike's face was unusually serious when he said, "Well, you're not bonkers, Harris. I'm infinitely well-acquainted with bonkers, and you're not it. Something insane might be happening, but you are not crazy."
Xander stilled, peering at Spike, waiting for the mockery. But it never came. "You really think so?"
Spike nodded.
Xander looked down at his feet and swore violently.
"What was that for?" Spike was clearly surprised at this reaction.
Shaking his head in frustrated anger, Xander explained, "Well, then, if I'm not crazy, then what about us both dying? It was real, Spike. It was real. I saw your head get torn off. I saw you turn to dust. Maybe we weren't friends to start with…okay, yeah, we were sort of enemies…but I've gotten used to having you around…you're probably the closest thing I have to a real friend lately…and I've gotten kind of used to having me around, too…and I don't want either of us getting murdered."
Spike looked a bit taken aback at this little speech. His eyes were a bit wide, his face almost slack with something that looked a bit vulnerable. Even during those difficult months of silence, Spike had always seemed a bit distant. Like he didn't want anyone to know what was going on inside his head. But right now, it was pretty clear that Spike was shocked at Xander's words. Xander felt a little bad that he hadn't said something before this.
So maybe I hadn't ever actually said that I consider Spike my friend, but it was pretty obvious, wasn't it? I mean, all these months of hanging and patrolling together, watching each other's backs. I mean, I don't suppose I'm much good at the back-watching thing, since I mostly get knocked down, but, still, I try. And there's the whole comfortable silence thing. You don't get that with just anybody. And he was going to teach me how to throw knives.
Spike cleared his throat and his face suddenly looked as blank and clear as usual. "Well, I'm not so easy to get rid of. Maybe somebody's projecting stuff into your mind. Making you doubt yourself, making you doubt me. Something like that. Maybe somebody wants you to think you're off your nut."
"But who would want that?"
"Don't know, do I? I'm just throwing out ideas for consideration." Spike collapsed into the room's only chair, dangling one leg casually over the arm. He pulled out his knife and began tossing it idly, looking deep in thought.
Xander shivered again in his wet clothes, pulling his t-shirt a bit away from his torso and trying to wring it out with little success. It would be easier if he just took it off, but…well…actually, there didn't seem to be much reason not to, considering that he'd already hallucinated sex with Spike twice. What's a little partial nudity between friends?
Stripping his wet t-shirt off over his head with a slick plop, rather like turning a plastic glove inside out, Xander tossed the shirt onto a small table near him, then began drying his chest and arms with the towel.
"Nice pecs," smirked Spike, probably just trying to mock him. But he'd stopped tossing the knife.
"Thanks," Xander replied distractedly. "I've been working out. So you think maybe somebody is putting these thoughts into my brain?"
"Dunno. It's possible. Don't have much information to work with, do I? Tell me about what you've been seeing and we can try to figure it out." Toss. Catch. Toss. Catch. Xander still wanted to learn how to do that, but it was not one of his top priorities at the moment.
"What do you want to know? Where do I start?"
"Well, you said I repeated myself earlier. So what else did I say 'last time'?"
"Um…let me remember. You said you would teach me how to throw knives, and you gave me a sort of first lesson…and we talked about…oh! Right! We talked about Jonathan Richman some more…and you said something like 'the punk and the poet are the same' or something weird like that."
Spike was suddenly rigid. The knife, strangely enough, clattered to the floor. Spike wasn't usually so uncoordinated. His voice was tense. "I said…what?"
Xander shrugged, "It's probably just my craziness talking, so you shouldn't get all freaked. But the way I remember it, you were acting really strange and you said something about 'the punk rocker and the sensitive poet' being not very different."
Spike was staring at Xander as if he'd grown slimy antlers on top of his head. Xander looked behind him, looked up. Nope. No antlers. "What? Why are you looking all weird again?"
Spike stood and turned his back, his head lowering. Xander didn't notice the muscles in his back. He really didn't.
When Spike was quiet for a long moment, Xander frowned. "Hey. What's the deal?"
Spike shook himself slightly and turned around, his face set in careful lines. "Nothing," Spike lied. Xander could tell he was lying. Spike was a shitty liar once you knew him. "So what else do you remember?"
"Look," Xander began in offended frustration, "I'm telling you all about my crazy thoughts. Not to mention the fact that I watched you die, and I'd always thought that would be one of my top ten fun things, but in fact it really really sucked and I hope I never see it again. And I told you that you're probably the best friend I have. I think I deserve a little respect in return. Or am I the only one who thinks we're friends?" Xander crossed his arms over his chest, still not wearing a shirt, but not particularly caring at the moment, because he was pissed.
It looked like Spike was gritting his teeth. A little muscle twitched in his jaw, and his eyes were dark and angry as he stared at Xander. "Fine," he spat out. "I was a poet."
Huh? Not what I was expecting him to say, not in a million years. Xander frowned and asked, "You were a poet? When?" Here we are in bizarro world again. Doesn't it look familiar? I think maybe I'm just going to start living here full-time.
Spike lifted his chin slightly, obviously waiting for the mockery. "When I was human. Wrote all manner of horrid doggerel."
"Um…doggerel? I'll assume that's a poetry thing? Probably nothing to do with dogs, right?"
Spike rolled his eyes and chuckled despite himself, which had been sort of what Xander was going for. It lessened the tension a bit. "It's shite poetry, Harris."
Xander nodded slowly. "So when you said whatever that was about the punk and the poet…you were talking about you?"
Spike sighed. "Yeah, probably."
"Hmm."
"So I'd say it's unlikely you would have just imagined that. I probably actually said it."
"Anybody could have made up something about punks and poets. It's sort of alliterative, after all."
Spike shook his head, "But to imagine me saying it, and behaving strangely at the same time? No…that doesn't seem likely, and I've never told anyone about the poetry before, so no one else would know to put that in your head."
Xander stopped dead and stared at him. "You've never told anyone?"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Don't turn into a big girl and tell me how much that means to you, eh, Harris? 'Cause I had some blood recently and I'd rather not toss it on your shoes." Spike leaned over to pick up his knife, then sank gracefully into the chair again.
Fine. I won't say anything. But that doesn't change the fact that I feel sort of…honored…or something. It feels nice. Spike's my friend. He tells me secrets. Wow. A year or two ago, I never would have believed that would make me happy.
But Spike was all business. "What do you remember about these demon fellows?"
That certainly brought Xander's attention back to the matter at hand. "They were the same spiny demons from earlier tonight, but the little one had brought three new big ones with him, and they were massive. Really strong, too, apparently. The big guys beat you up pretty bad. The little one was the one who was after me, and he seemed like the boss of the others. He kept saying something about wanting to touch my jewels." Spike snorted in amusement. "Oh, ha ha, Spike. Let's see you laugh when a creepy demon with a knife is coming at you ranting about your jewels. It's not so funny then."
"I doubt they were after your precious stones, Harris. More likely there's an actual gem or two they're looking for. Sunnydale seems to have a lot of magical objects floating around, especially in these crypts. What exactly did he say about the jewels?"
"He said I'd touched them…but I don't remember touching any jewels…oh, he also said something about my heart and his hand. I didn't really understand it all."
"Not much information to go on. You couldn't have listened a bit closer, could you? This sort of stuff is a bit important, especially when it means my head getting torn off."
"Well, they were trying to kill me. I sort of had a lot on my mind. I don't really think very well during a fight."
"We've all seen the proof of that often enough."
"Shut up."
Spike was quiet, seeming to be thinking about something. Then he looked at Xander, but seemed distracted. "Some demons can cause distortions in time," he mused. "It's possible that's what these demons are doing, perhaps even unintentionally. Just by having contact with them, you might be getting caught up in some kind of time loop or something."
Xander frowned. He noticed he'd been doing that a lot during this conversation. "But then why aren't you seeing the looping, too? You had contact with them the same as I did."
Spike's answer was thoughtful. "I don't know. Maybe it's only the little one who has the time effect."
Without thinking, Xander continued, "That wouldn't explain the other…uh…" he slowed down, realizing that he really did not want to discuss the other…thing…
"Doesn't explain the other what?" asked Spike.
Xander looked around, saw his t-shirt, and picked it up, beginning to wring it out vigorously.
"Doesn't explain the other what?" repeated Spike, refusing to be ignored.
Staring at the wet t-shirt in his hands while he twisted it and sent water pouring to the floor, Xander muttered, "Other hallucinations." He glanced at Spike nervously, and saw him leaning forward curiously.
"What other hallucinations?"
Xander found himself heartily regretting ever starting this entire conversation and frantically tried to think of something to say which would allow him to deflect Spike's questions without actually telling the truth. How about vagueness? Would vagueness work?
"Okay, after I saw us both die, then I had this other…hallucination…before I ended up back in the cemetery talking to you again." Xander bit his lip. He hoped he wasn't blushing.
"What sort of hallucination? Were the demons involved?"
Xander concentrated harder on wringing out his shirt, though it had probably lost as much water as it was going to. It was still pretty wet, but wringing wasn't accomplishing anything anymore, except to give him something to do with his hands. Well, there was one demon involved, but not like you mean.
Xander just shook his head, his eyes looking everywhere but at Spike. "No. It was…at my apartment. I was…doing stuff there. And then all of a sudden I was back here again."
Spike's eyes had narrowed now, as if he sensed that Xander was hiding something. "You know I'm too stubborn to let it go, brat. May as well just tell me now."
Xander pulled his damp shirt over his head and pulled it down with some difficulty. It was all wrinkly and the wet cloth didn't want to slide easily over his skin, but he would really rather not be bare- chested for this conversation. "Well, I was here in the cemetery, with you, and then I had this weird vision where I was at my house, and then all of a sudden I was back here again, and then we got killed, and then I was back at my house again, and then I was here again, and now here we are." Xander realized he'd been babbling like a crazy person. Hmm. Maybe the insanity theory was still viable.
Spike took a deep breath and then spoke very very slowly. "What. Happened. At. Your. Apartment?"
Xander squirmed. At least, he thought he squirmed. He felt like he squirmed. He felt decidedly squirmy. Was this what Spike felt like when he was hounding him about the poet thing? Well, hell, Spike could step up to the plate…so could he. Xander's voice was abrupt in the silence. "Sex."
Spike's eyebrows went up immediately. "Sex? So you had a little vision of both of us dying, then took a bit of a psychic break to get your end away before popping back here?"
Xander's voice was quiet now. "Sort of."
"Sex with who?"
Xander squeaked. He knew he squeaked. He couldn't help it. He squeaked, "What?"
"No, the question is 'who'. Although I suppose it could be a 'what', if you're into creatures of indeterminate gender." Spike was smirking uncontrollably now. The smirks were just all over the place, taunting Xander, making him want to flee.
"None of your business!" Xander replied, and he sounded about four years old, but he didn't care.
Spike nodded slowly, a calculating look in his eye. "Demon girl?" he guessed, watching Xander's face closely. "One of the witches?" Suddenly Spike's face became harder as he hissed, "The Nibblet?"
That one make Xander jump. "Jeez, Spike! No! I would never have sex with Dawn, not even in a hallucination! It would be like…um…incest! And pedophilia! Incestual pedophilia!"
Spike was still watching him appraisingly. Then he grinned. "Both the witches at once?"
And that one made Xander blush, because, okay, so he'd had a fantasy about that once or twice. But Spike seemed to think he'd hit upon his answer, because he relaxed and stopped staring at Xander so intently. He just lounged in the chair, grinning evilly.
Xander cleared his throat. "Shouldn't we be focusing on the demons who want to kill us? Because if this is some kind of 'time distortion' thing, and we showed up here again, then aren't they out there again, too?"
That wiped the grin off Spike's face. "Good point. But the time distortion idea doesn't really work well with this little three-way nooner you have going on between. Perhaps it isn't a simple time loop, but something more complicated."
Xander just listened, nodding as if he understood. It sounded a little bit like the time-looping in the movie Groundhog Day, except that the sex stuff in his apartment just didn't fit in at all. So maybe it wasn't a time loop at all. But what else could it be?
Spike suddenly shrugged. "If it's a time distortion, and the demons are doing it, then we just need to kill 'em and it'll go away." He smiled, pleased with the simplicity – and violence – of his solution.
"Just kill them," Xander repeated.
"Yep," replied Spike happily.
"Just kill the guys who dusted you and slit my throat. Just like that."
"Yep. Let's get ourselves some weapons." And with that, Spike bustled downstairs where he apparently kept his weapons chest. Xander stood without moving. Just kill them. Oh, yeah. I'm sure that'll be easy. He shuddered, remembering the feel of the knife against his throat, remembering the sight of Spike suddenly disappearing into dust.
Spike came back up with a couple of large axes. "These should do the trick. I already fought one of these guys earlier tonight, so I have a bit of a feel for how tough they are. I'm sure they just caught us by surprise."
Xander was nodding, but he wasn't nearly as confident as Spike. He took one of the axes and leaned it over his shoulder to balance the weight. While Spike was still busy putting on his duster, Xander walked toward the door and noticed the silence.
"Um, Spike? When did it stop raining?"
"Dunno. Why?" And then Spike was opening the door and stepping outside. As Xander stepped out after him, he saw Spike being set upon by three very large, muscular spiny demons, and a small demon stood only a few yards from the crypt door, watching Xander gleefully.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," Little Creepy Guy said. "And you shall lead me to it."
Oh fuck! They're here! They're here already! He noticed Spike swinging ferociously with his axe, surrounded by the three hulking spiny demons. I've never been much good at thinking when someone's trying to kill me, but Spike said it was important. So remember it! This guy said I was 'touched by the jewel' and that I would 'lead him to it.' Might be important. Remember!
The little demon reached out to grasp Xander's neck and pulled him from the crypt doorway, Xander's axe falling useless to the muddy ground. The demon turned him easily so that his arm wrapped across Xander's chest and kept him immobilized, facing away so that his throat was fully bared. Not far away, Xander could see Spike fighting desperately, one of the large demons apparently dead on the ground, one of the others clearly weakening. The third demon, though…that one looked as strong as ever, but Spike was clearly hurt. Xander watched with growing horror.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," small demon guy said from behind him, speaking almost into Xander's ear. "And when I hold your heart beating in the palm of my hand, you shall lead me to the power I seek."
And then the knife was rising, shining silver in the moonlight, and Xander's thoughts were racing. I have to remember what he said! Memorize it! He wants to hold my heart beating in the palm of his hand. It'll lead him to the power he seeks. I have to remember. Spike told me. I have to remember. And then the knife was at his throat, touching him so very gently, and Xander saw Spike start to run toward him, saw him stopped by the remaining two demons, saw the stronger demon raise up Spike's own axe and swing, saw Spike's face staring at him suddenly turn to ash. Somewhere during that time, the knife had slid along Xander's throat, and he found himself thinking crazily, Is that Spike's knife? Or did these guys bring their own this time? and then his eyes closed.
{blink}
Xander opened his eyes to see a naked Spike standing very close to him, looking very pissed off. But he was alive. Or undead. Or whatever you wanted to call it. Xander was alive and Spike was un-dust, and that made Xander want to whoop aloud with happiness. But, of course, he couldn't, because he was back in the strange sex scene where he was only able to watch and feel. He couldn't actually change anything.
Hey! But I can change things in the other reality. So if it's really a time loop, which is looking pretty likely, then I can make things different! Maybe I'm like Sam on Quantum Leap, jumping around in time in order to 'set right what once went wrong'. Hey! That would make a lot of sense, since I saw us die! Maybe I'm going back in time to make that not happen, so that we both live! But…uh…what does that have to do with the butt sex?
Pissed-off Spike was now on the other side of the room, standing beside the bed. "Got any lube?" he asked abruptly, his face tense and angry. But Xander thought Spike's expression was a little bit like when he talked about being a poet. Like he was waiting for Xander to get in a cheap shot.
Xander heard himself say, "In the cabinet by the bed," and for the first time noticed that his voice was quiet and firm and sort of…gentle. Maybe reassuring?
Don't I have enough to worry about with homicidal demons apparently fucking me up in time…now I have to worry about me fucking up Spike's sensitive feelings, too? Not to mention the actual literal fucking. What the hell is going on around here? And how can I get back to my normal life? Where, admittedly, there has been very little fucking for quite a while now. But this is all too weird and I don't want to die again and I just want to go home. I hope this time around I can fix whatever's wrong and stop all the craziness. No more sex with Spike. 'Cause that's crazy.
And he and Spike must have said things to each other while Xander was busy thinking, because now he was walking across the room and he knew that in a moment he would be kissing Spike and in some very secret, private part of himself he admitted that…well…he actually wouldn't mind doing this part again.
Part 4
The Details.
Xander had decided that Spike was right. The only way to find out what was going on and how to fix it was to start paying attention to the details. Even here, in the bedroom, naked with Spike, he needed to try to figure out what was happening. There was no way he was going to discuss this particular stuff with Spike, but at least he could try to figure things out for himself. So he tried to notice details.
Like Spike's hair. As Xander walked across the room toward him, he noticed that Spike's hair was soft and fluffy. It looked like it didn't have any gel in it at all. Xander had never seen it so soft-looking. Sort of like a baby chick or something.
Heh. Spike looks all cute and fluffy. Well, except for that whole scowling thing he's got going on. Maybe a sort of evil baby chick.
When they began kissing, when Spike's tongue was exploring his mouth and his tongue was exploring Spike's, Xander distantly noticed that Spike's mouth tasted like Aquafresh.
What are the chances he uses the same toothpaste as me? Well, maybe he thinks striped toothpaste is cool, too. Because…hey…stripes! Neat!
And then Xander stopped noticing much of anything except Spike's tongue for a while. Though there did seem to be infinite things to notice about it. For example, it was wicked. Xander had never used that word honestly before – he'd only used it in a joking way, like "I shall have my wicked way with you!" – but Spike's tongue was definitely wicked. It made Xander want things. He couldn't even quite imagine all the things it made him want, but it made him want. Kissing Spike made Xander want to cling to him and do every secret thing he'd ever had a wet dream about, every private shameful thing he'd ever fantasized about in the shower or in the dark in his bed. Spike's kiss, Spike's tongue, Spike's lips…they made Xander weak. And they made him feel…wicked.
I've never felt wicked before. Well…maybe when I was possessed by the hyena, but that doesn't really count, because it wasn't really me. I just…I guess I'm not a wicked guy, as a rule. Now, Spike…he's a wicked guy. Even now that he's not so evil, he's still got that sexy wicked thing going on. Not that I ever noticed that he was sexy. And I think I'm fine in the sex department, too. I just, I've had sex lots of times, but it wasn't wicked sex. I never felt like this…like…an animal…desperate…hungry. I want. I want and want and want. I want to pull Spike down on the ground and hold on tight to his hair so he can't move and then I want to bite his stomach muscles and just do very nasty things to him.
Okay…wait…maybe this whole 'noticing the details' thing would work better if I stick with the external stuff. Yeah. Good. Right. Ahem.
As Xander slid slowly down Spike's body, his fingers trailed curiously along Spike's chest and stomach, and he felt Spike's stomach tremble slightly at the touch. He tried not to think about what it would be like to test his teeth against those muscles. Instead, his nose close to Spike's skin, Xander noticed that Spike smelled faintly like Irish Spring.
Huh. What are the chances that he uses the same toothpaste as me and the same soap? I think we'll have to assume that Spike has showered here. Why? When? I mean, is this next year sometime, after I've had some kind of spontaneously gay life change…and Spike has stopped overusing hair products? Or is this something that could happen, but needs to be prevented? Or…oh my god…is this something that needs to happen in order for the time loop thing to stop?
Sucking on Spike's cock was less traumatic each time. Xander found that knowing what was going to happen next made the whole experience less frightening and…well, in all honesty, pretty interesting. And the fact that none of it had any lasting effects, since Spike never remembered any of it, eradicated any anxiety.
In fact, he found himself occasionally frustrated with his inability to control his own movements. While they'd been kissing, he'd wanted to slide his fingers into that fluffy yellow hair and hold Spike's head closer to him. While he had Spike's cock in his mouth, he wanted to repeat everything he did that made Spike gasp or shiver or suddenly clench his fists.
It wasn't like he would want to do any of this stuff in real life. But it was like a fantasy. You can do anything you want in a fantasy, and no one has to know. It doesn't mean anything. It's just in your head.
When Spike pushed him down onto his hands and knees on the fake Persian rug, Xander noticed a pile of clothes over by the door to the living room. And tossed off to one side was his gray t-shirt with the Babylon 5 logo on the front. The t-shirt he'd put on under his work shirt this morning. The t-shirt he'd been wearing when he was walking through the cemetery with Spike when they got killed.
Oh fuck! So this is the same day! Well, I do wear that t-shirt sometimes, so it isn't a guarantee, but it would be a pretty freaky coincidence otherwise. So…this is the same day! But where does this fit in? We just swing by my apartment for a quicky before running back out to get hacked up by monsters? This makes no sense!
But now Spike was fucking him again. Fucking him and kissing him and Xander thought, My neck should really hurt, turning at this angle to look back at him, but it doesn't. Maybe that's because he's holding my head in his hand. Or maybe it's because nothing hurts much when everything else is feeling this good.
And then the hand on Xander's head pressed just a bit too hard, making the bump throb, and Xander winced and thought, Youch!
{blink}
"…worth listening to. Nothing but tripe now, though…lyrics like the worst kind of poetry, all simpering love-sick crap."
Xander stumbled – that transition always seemed to leave him disoriented – and found his erection (thankfully) wilting almost immediately at the realization that he was now back in the reality where he was likely to meet up with throat-slitting demons.
"Okay, fuck this!" spat Xander, his hands clenched in frustrated fists. "I am sick and tired of getting killed in this fucking place!"
Spike had stopped walking, his knife still held ready to continue tossing. He looked bemused at Xander's sudden outburst.
"And put that fucking knife away!" Xander insisted, rubbing his throat nervously. "It's freaking me out."
Spike raised an eyebrow and tucked the knife away somewhere inside his coat, watching Xander as if certain the boy had suddenly lost his senses.
"We need to get to the crypt right away," Xander said, looking nervously around the cemetery.
Spike asked gently, "My crypt?" His voice was slow and patient, as if he were speculating on the state of Xander's sanity. He sounded like he was talking to a rabid dog…or maybe a sniper with a gun on the bell tower. Or maybe he'd just talked to Dru like this all the time.
Xander exhaled noisily. "No. Napoleon's crypt! Yes, your crypt, bloodbreath. It's the only place nearby where we can talk with at least a little bit of privacy."
"Oookay," Spike's voice was still smooth and soothing. "Why'd we be needing privacy, ducks?"
"I have to tell you a lot of stuff and we have to figure out what to do so we don't both get killed." Xander knew he was talking too fast, but being back in the cemetery and having everything be just the same as it was right before he'd died…twice…well…it was a bit disconcerting, to say the least.
As they walked toward the crypt, Xander commented, "We'd better hurry before it starts raining."
Spike patted Xander's arm in an excruciatingly patronizing manner and assured him, "No chance of rain tonight, luv."
Xander rolled his eyes and just pulled on Spike's arm determinedly. "I don't like to be wet."
They were only a few yards from the crypt door when the rain starting pouring down. Spike stopped right where he was and stared in shock at Xander, the water drenching them both. After a moment, Spike seemed to remember himself and bolted through the door into the dry crypt with Xander right behind him.
Xander was standing a little ways inside the crypt, grumbling to himself. "I fucking hate being wet. And I fucking hate getting killed. And I hate this whole fucking thing and I just want a beer and a pizza and a hot shower and my nice warm bed."
At that, Xander pulled his soaked t-shirt over his head and began vigorously wringing it out. "Okay, we don't have much time. We have to figure out what to do."
Spike walked slowly past Xander, further into the crypt, and stood next to the armchair, his eyes watching the boy closely. "How'd you know it was going to rain, Harris?"
Xander exhaled in frustration again. "Because I'm stuck in some kind of fucking time loop and I've been here twice before. Why don't you go ahead and go downstairs to change into dry clothes, then bring me a blue towel and throw it at my face, eh?"
Spike frowned in confusion. But he nodded slightly – he didn't like wet clothes any better than Xander did – and went downstairs, trusting that the Scooby nutjob wouldn't run out on his own before Spike got back.
Xander continued to wring out his t-shirt until it seemed about as dry as it was going to get. He draped it across a wall sconce to let it air-dry a bit more before he had to put it back on, and then he threw himself down in Spike's chair, letting one of his legs dangle over the arm.
Huh. This is pretty comfortable, actually. No wonder he always sits like this.
When Spike emerged from the downstairs, he noticed Xander bare- chested in his chair and raised an eyebrow. He threw a towel at him, though it hit Xander in the chest instead of the face.
"Your aim's off this time, Spike," Xander ribbed him.
Spike smirked and ribbed back, "Must have been distracted by all your tasty manflesh on display."
Okay, that had Xander blushing, which had probably been Spike's intention, but for different reasons. He began vigorously drying his chest and hair, not meeting Spike's gaze.
Xander cleared his throat. "Back to the important stuff. We need to figure out how to not get killed and how to fix this time looping stuff. Any ideas?"
Spike leaned against a low windowsill lined with candles and asked, "What the bloody hell are you talking about? You haven't made a lick of sense since you started babbling about all this time stuff."
Xander took a deep breath and forced himself to slow down. Of course this Spike didn't know anything about the situation. So he explained. The little demon from earlier in the night. Its gigantic new friends. Them taking Spike's head off. Them slitting Xander's throat. The whole being dead problem. And then the whole thing starting again. He left out the sex. Didn't seem important. At all.
Spike's face didn't look promising. Xander could tell he didn't believe him, so he just kept talking. Maybe Spike would understand eventually. "The last time, you said that some demons can sort of mess with time. And maybe that's what was happening here, and if we killed the demons, then it would solve the problem."
Spike's eyes lit up then. "Dunno about all this time crap, but I'm all for killing stuff. Let's get some weapons." Spike started to head downstairs, but Xander stopped him.
"Last time, we took weapons, and we still got our asses kicked. Well…I mean…our heads…sort of off. So I think we need to look at this more closely. They never attack before the rain starts or while the rain is still falling. At least, the past two times that's been true. They attack after the rain. The time when we left the crypt right when the rain stopped, the demons caught us almost at the entrance to the cemetery. But the time when we stayed here even after the rain stopped, they eventually came here to get us."
Spike was frowning in thought now. Xander didn't know if he believed about the time looping, but he was willing to plan a good attack.
"So," Spike mused, "we might be able to catch them unawares while it's still raining. If we can find them. What sorts of weapons are they using?"
And so they talked logistics for several minutes and eventually came up with a plan to take not only the axes from before but also some smaller knives. Spike stashed many of the weapons in pockets and through loops inside his coat, but he gave Xander two of the knives, as well, then gave him a cursory lesson in how to throw a knife in a fight, though the likelihood that such a brief introduction would be enough to really improve Xander's aim seemed slim.
"Oh!" Xander suddenly remembered just before they were going to leave the crypt into the still-pouring rain. "Last time, you told me to listen to what the demons were saying. The little guy said that I had touched the jewel and I would lead him to it. He also said that when he held my heart beating in his hand, I would lead him to the power he seeks."
Spike nodded pensively. "So he's after some kind of powerful artifact, and thinks you can take him to it. That explains why they're after you. They probably don't give a toss for me, then, except that I'm in their way."
Xander gulped, wondering if he should tell Spike to stay behind, so that they wouldn't both get killed, but he just wasn't that selfless. He knew he couldn't beat the demons by himself.
Spike had been watching Xander's face, and smiled slightly. Xander didn't know if Spike had been able to tell what he was thinking, but suddenly he was feeling the buddy vibe, so he smiled back. Spike came up, clapped an arm around Xander's shoulders, and said, "Let's go kick some demon ass."
Of course, it didn't end up being quite that easy. The fight took a bit longer this time, and Spike injured all three of the huge demons pretty badly. Xander actually had a chance to throw a knife, but it bounced harmlessly off the forehead of the small demon who was walking toward him. In fact, it only seemed to piss the little guy off. He grabbed Xander and turned him, just as he had the other times, so that Xander faced away from him, faced Spike battling the other demons.
The creepy little guy said all the same things as before, and Xander tried to memorize them even more clearly. He also tried to memorize everything he could about what the demons looked like – yellow eyes, slit pupil, no nose, sharp teeth – hoping desperately that some of this information might somehow help them next time. Because by this point he knew that this time around was probably a loss.
"You have been touched by the Jewel," the creepy demon murmured to him as the knife lifted so that Xander could see it shining silver in the moonlight. He once again found himself wondering crazily, Is that one of Spike's knives? Is he going to kill me with one of Spike's knives? Because Spike would be so pissed. "And when I hold your heart beating in the palm of my hand, you shall lead me to the power I seek." Xander once again repeated over and over and over again in his mind exactly what the demon had said. Spike had said it could be important, and he trusted Spike. How weird was that, that he trusted Spike? But he did. Even before all this happened. He trusted Spike.
Spike who was over there fighting three huge demons. For him. For Xander. Spike knew he might die, but he came anyway. Xander felt himself suffused with gratitude, remembering a million good things about Spike. His friend.
But those thoughts had all passed in the space of a moment, and the knife was now at Xander's throat, and Spike was racing toward him, vamping out, shouting something, but it all seemed unreal. The knife against Xander's neck was just a gentle touch, and its smooth travel across didn't seem very terrible at all. But now the wetness was flowing down Xander's chest – he thought vaguely, This bastard ruined my Babylon 5 shirt – and Spike was tearing at the demons who had caught him, he was raging at them with fists now – they must have taken his weapons – and it all seemed in slow motion as Spike looked over at Xander at the last moment, and his face was human again and his eyes were wide and seemed to glisten with tears – though that could have been the moonlight – and Xander didn't even see what happened…his vision was getting dark and fuzzy…but then Spike was gone and there were only demons and Xander felt like he just wanted to sleep, and there was a buzzing, sort of like the static on the TV late at night, and Xander was so very tired that he just closed his eyes.
{blink}
When he opened his eyes to Spike naked in front of him, looking decidedly pissed off, Xander wanted to throw his arms around him and sob. Sob because Spike wasn't dust. Sob because Xander wasn't dead. Sob because Spike had been a good friend to him and he'd never even thanked him and maybe now it was too late because they were both just going to die and there was nothing he could do about it. Sob because Spike had gone up against the demons with him, even when he didn't have to. Sob because Spike had come running to try to save him when the creepy demon had him, even though the big demons were right on his tail.
Basically, Xander just wanted to throw his arms around Spike and feel the realness of him, the solidness, the here-ness. He didn't care that they were both naked. Faced with being dead, being naked seemed pretty fucking unimportant.
For the first time, Xander understood a little bit of what Anya had meant about death making her want to do something about creating life. He still didn't want to make babies – he still felt sorry that he couldn't be that for Anya, but it just wasn't what he wanted – he still didn't want that, but he did want to be close to Spike, to sort of revel in their non-deadness.
So this time he didn't try to catalogue details. He didn't try to memorize information for future use in fixing the time loop problem. This time, he just let himself be glad that Spike and he were both alive, that they had the option to do this, that they could do things that felt good, that they could be close to each other, that it wasn't too late for them to say the things that Xander suddenly felt like he wanted to say. Not that he loved Spike, necessarily, but that he liked Spike, that he was grateful for everything Spike had done, that he was sorry for having been a prick sometimes, that he wanted Spike for his friend, that he was goddamn fucking TIRED of watching Spike get killed, because somewhere along the way, Spike had become someone who mattered. He might have seemed invisible, silently folded in on himself in all these months since Buffy died, but Xander had been right there with him, and they'd had that companionable silence that Xander thought meant they were in this together, that they understood each other somehow, and somehow Xander had ended up caring. He'd ended up not fucking wanting Spike to die!
So on the outside, Xander kissed Spike, sucked him off, got down on his knees for Spike's cock…on the outside it all probably looked the same. But on the inside, Xander was wanting to grab on to Spike's body, push and pull and squeeze and grip him, make sure he was really there, he was really whole and okay and there.
He kissed Spike the same as before, but on the inside he was thinking, You were dead…I saw you die…you bastard…I saw you die! I don't ever fucking want to see anything like that again. You are too fucking tough to die. His tongue was tangling with Spike's, their thrusts hard and hungry, but Xander was reveling in the taste and feel and sounds, not caring if this was a hallucination, not believing – really – that it was. It was like some kind of respite, some kind of reward for putting up with the hell of watching Spike die over and over again.
On some level, Xander knew he'd probably be embarrassed for this rush of emotion later, but right now it didn't matter. No one would ever know. And right now he needed this…this drowning in the realness of Spike and of himself. He needed it to comfort himself. Because if he had another round of demon death coming up, then this was something to appreciate and hang onto as long as possible.
{blink}
Unfortunately, the next few times around were much the same. Xander developed a sort of brief summary to try to catch Spike up to speed each time. Spike was always dubious, but the prospect of killing demons always perked him up. Xander stuck to Spike's initial theory that the demons themselves were causing the time looping, and that they therefore needed to kill the demons to set everything right.
Unfortunately, killing the demons was turning out to be more difficult than it sounded.
They tried all different approaches: going after them in the rain, going after them before the rain, waiting in the crypt until long after the rain had let up, walking different routes through the cemetery, bringing various different combinations of weapons, pretty much everything they could think of. And each time, Xander had to tell Spike which options they'd already tried, before they could start brainstorming a new approach.
One time, Spike came up with an elaborate plan, full of camouflage and dodges and feints and fake-outs and surprise attacks. They'd both ended up just as dead as before.
Another time, Spike had come up with a plan that required Xander to throw knives, since he had gotten very slightly better at it after trying repeatedly. Spike gave him a bit more training in preparation. But that plan didn't work so well, either, since the little guy turned decidedly mean upon finding a knife protruding from his shoulder.
Around and around and around they went. And every time, Xander had the sex hallucination in between. And every time, the sex seemed less strange, less uncomfortable, less embarrassing. He sort of forgot that "gay" should be something to be ashamed of. He didn't really think anymore about the fact that this was sex with a guy. It was just…Spike. And every time he saw Spike die, he felt just a little more happy to see Spike alive again. The whole "gay" thing just seemed…stupid. Irrelevant.
Xander had lost count of how many times he'd seen them both die. Maybe a dozen? Maybe more? He was sitting in Spike's armchair with his head in his hands, thinking as hard as he could. They'd tried everything they could think of. They needed something completely different.
He leaned back and laid his head on the chair back, staring up at the cobwebby ceiling. He knew Spike was standing nearby, but they hadn't spoken for a few minutes now, both thinking. And then suddenly it hit him. Xander knew what they needed to do.
"Okay. Fuck trying to fight them," he said grimly. "That isn't working, and I'm really tired of getting my throat cut. It's time to pull out the big guns."
Spike's face lit up eagerly. "Flame throwers? I don't have one here, but I can get one…"
"No, not flame throwers," Xander interrupted, and then explained with one determined word: "Willow."
Part 5
Asking Questions.
Xander'd never really been in charge before. It felt weird. Before Buffy's death, she'd always been the one barking out orders. Or sometimes, especially back in high school, Giles would tell them all what to do. Even Willow, now that she was all big with the magic, would tell them where to stand and what to do in order for a spell to work.
But nobody ever listened to Xander. He was never the boss, except a little bit at work, where the higher bosses were always telling him what to tell other people to do.
So it was weird to be the person really in charge. Especially with Spike, because Spike just wasn't the sort of guy who liked to be told what to do.
But every time Xander looped back to the beginning again, he was the only one who remembered everything they'd talked about before. He was the only one who remembered their plans, their ideas, their mistakes. And so he was the one calling the shots. Xander was the head honcho. Yep. That's me. Xander In Charge.
So when he looped back the next time – after yet another failed race through the cemetery, this time in an attempt to get to the Summers' house to find Willow – Xander just touched on the high points.
Some sort of time distortion.
Evil spiny demon guys.
Killed us lots of times.
Something about a jewel.
Need to kill evil guys.
Need to get Willow to find out how.
Spike was always remarkably calm in the face of such unexpected information. He'd apparently had experience with time distortion in the past, though nothing as significant as what Xander was experiencing. So he mostly listened to what Xander told him to do. It was kind of a power rush.
So Xander once again filled Spike in on the plan. Run to the Summers' house. Try to dodge as much as possible, don't fight the demons unless necessary (since they had a disturbing tendency to win), just move move move as fast as you can.
Then Xander had another thought. "Hey! I'm the one the demons seem to be after, so how about you just run ahead to Willow's and find out how to kill the guys?"
Spike rolled his eyes with a frustrated sigh. "Because, you moron, you'll get killed while I'm gone. And when you loop back, you won't know what Willow told me, now will you?"
"Oh." Xander's face fell. "Right." Yeah, that's why Xander wasn't usually the boss. Because he was stupid. Nobody wants the stupid guy in charge.
But Spike was talking again. "But you may have a good idea, there. We don't have to stay together, necessarily. If we run into the demons and they cause us trouble, I'll just keep 'em busy and you run on to Red's."
Xander frowned deeply. "Spike, that wouldn't work. They'd just kill you again."
"Well, yeah," Spike deadpanned, looking at Xander as if he were excruciatingly slow. "But when you loop back you'll have the info and I'll be fresh as a daisy again, eh?"
Xander shook his head. "No way am I running off while you get killed."
Spike was looking frustrated now, that little crease appearing between his brows. "It'd work. Just do it."
Xander crossed his arms, his mouth a tight line of stubborn disapproval. "No."
After a bit of a staring contest, they begrudgingly came up with a plan for a new path through the cemetery, a planned route along Blake Street, and an obstacle course of fences and alleys to get them to the Summers' backyard.
They didn't really agree on whether Xander would run ahead if they met the demons. They just planned as if the demons wouldn't catch them.
So when they were ready, they took off running through the rain, heavily armed as always, and were doing pretty well until they hit Blake Street. Suddenly, Little Creepy Guy appeared with his three goons, and things started looking decidedly less pleasant. "I can feel the Jewel," Little Creepy Guy said, just like he always did.
And that was when Xander turned to Spike and hissed, "Get out of here! They won't follow you, and you won't get killed!"
But Spike hissed back, "Sod that! 'M not running away from a fight. Not leavin' you here against these blokes on your lonesome."
The goons began to lumber forward, just like they always did, and Xander hurriedly threw his knife, which hit one of them right in the middle of the forehead, sending him toppling to the ground like a giant tree.
"I did it!" Xander cried in gleeful shock, grinning, hopping a very undignified hop of Yay Me! celebration. "I did it!"
Spike gripped Xander's upper arm in a hold so tight that it would leave dark bruises, and pulled him closer. He hissed into Xander's ear, "You got rid of one of 'em, so now I've got only three to fight. I should be able to keep 'em busy on my own, so now's your time to bugger off. Get to Red, find out what you need to know." Xander was shaking his head, but Spike's hold on his arm tightened even further. The two remaining goons were getting nearer, and Spike growled in to Xander's ear, "Fuck off! NOW!" and then gave him an abrupt shove.
And so Xander turned and ran. He ran faster than he'd ever run before in his life. He ran as if homicidal, throat-slitting demons were on his tail, planning to kill him. He ran toward Willow, hoping against hope that she'd be able to help him figure out how to fix this whole mess. And while he ran, he imagined Spike behind him, surrounded by spiny demons, fighting alone because Xander had run off and left him. And after a while, Xander realized there were tears on his face, though he didn't know why.
When he felt a strong arm behind him pulling him off his feet, he tried to turn his head. It was Creepy Little Guy and one of his goons. This means Spike is dead, Xander thought to himself suddenly. If they caught up with me, then Spike is dead. He barely noticed the demon holding him tightly, one arm around the front of his chest, the knife sliding across his throat, the wetness pouring down. I left Spike behind, and Spike is dead, Xander thought as his eyes slowly closed.
{blink}
Sex with Spike. Before all this time distortion or time looping or whatever it was…before all that started happening, Xander would have responded to the phrase "sex with Spike" with a shudder of revulsion and an exclamation along the lines of "I so do not need to hear about this!"
But now…now…it was different. He'd always thought – not that he'd thought about it much, because eww – that Spike would be really raunchy during sex, all rough and rude and blunt. And he was…some of the time. But Xander was surprised how much he liked it. How much it turned him on. When Spike glared at him from across the room and demanded, "Come over here and suck me off," Xander felt like he could almost come just from that tone of voice, just from that…that…command. He could admit it here, since this was some kind of nowhere land inside the time loop…he could admit that a part of him really wanted to know what it would be like for Spike to command him a lot more than that. Would it be as exciting as this bit was?
Because…yeah. He wasn't really freaking out about the sex anymore. A part of him said he should be. A part of him kept saying, "You're not gay." But the rest of him had just slowly, gradually, inch by inch, bit by bit…relaxed. Every time through, the whole thing seemed just a bit less scary, just a bit less strange, just a bit more normal.
He'd come to appreciate the skill with which Spike stroked his cock, giving him tingles everywhere. He'd come to know and appreciate every arch and curve and angle of Spike's body, every ripple of muscle, every flex and stretch. He'd come to eagerly anticipate getting to kiss Spike's mouth, feeling their tongues clashing, feeling their lips against each other, feeling their chests brushing oh-so-slightly.
And he'd come to enjoy the…well…the stuff with his butt. He still felt embarrassed about it, though, and didn't plan on telling anybody about any of this anytime soon, because he was pretty sure he would die from blushing too hard. But having Spike inside of him was…intense. And kissing him at the same time was like…it was like flying…and falling…and spinning…or some combination of all those. He wished he could see Spike's face during those moments, wished he could have some idea of whether Spike was feeling the same things he was feeling. But they were always kissing, and Xander's eyes were always closed, and so he could only imagine.
And in his imagination, Spike's face was always just as awed and joyous and a little bit frightened as Xander felt inside.
{blink}
Back to the cemetery, and this time around, Xander was telling Spike about their failed attempt to get to Willow at the Summers' house when Spike suddenly interrupted him. "Why didn't we take the tunnels?" he asked impatiently.
Xander felt like he'd been hit on the head with an anvil, like in cartoons. Little yellow "Xander is stupid" birds were flying around his head. When he found his way back to what was currently presenting itself as reality, Xander mumbled, "I guess it was because I was making the plans."
Spike paced from one side of the crypt to the other, shaking his head and distractedly tossing his knife as he walked. "Well, that's what I get for listening to you, eh? Dead. That's what I get. Dead."
Xander paled and looked away. Spike was right, of course. All these times they'd gotten killed, it was because Xander had been the one making the plans. What sort of sick joke was this, that Xander was the only one who looped, so Xander was the only one with the information to make plans? It was cruel, is what it was. It was like making the kid from the Special Ed class do your geometry homework.
Spike was still muttering to himself. "Right. Got me all turned around with the time loop mumbo jumbo 'til I was daft enough to let Xander bloody Harris tell me what to do."
Xander thought that was a bit harsh. "Hey, I'm not that bad."
Spike raised an eyebrow. "How many times you get us killed thus far, mate?"
Xander winced hard enough that it was probably visible. He turned away and walked to the crypt door, looking out at the rain, trying not to cry, because wouldn't that just be even better? Cry in front of Spike, who already thought he was a pathetic loser, when Xander had thought they were sort of friends or something. Xander fought the irrational and childish urge to just run out in the rain and find the stupid demons and get himself killed again because it was all so meaningless.
But Spike had walked up behind him and his voice was near when he said reluctantly, "Look, I didn't mean that, all right?"
Xander didn't turn. "No, you're right." His voice was kind of choked. He hoped Spike didn't notice.
But Spike replied immediately, "No, I'm not right. I'm just being an obnoxious tosser, just like always. Takin' the piss. You're supposed to say something back, you know? Say maybe it was because your brain was fried by the blinding whiteness of my skinny torso when I took off my shirt."
Xander looked down, awash in self-loathing, and mumbled, "You're not that skinny."
Spike's voice sounded a little surprised and confused when he said, "Didn't think you noticed, Harris."
Xander stood there a long moment, trying to think of something jokey and snarky he could say to lighten the mood, but he just couldn't think of anything. Finally, he said quietly, very earnestly, "I'm sorry I got you killed…"
But Spike interrupted him, turning Xander around and grabbing his chin in one hand so that he could look Xander in the eyes. "Look, from what you say, we've been through this a lot of times now, yeah? You ever see me back down from the fight? You even once see me walk away?"
Xander slowly shook his head a bit in Spike's grip.
Spike nodded firmly. "That's right. That's because we go down fighting together." Xander began to interrupt, but Spike shook his head. "So we made a plan last time that split us up, but we were still both fighting. Ain't nobody getting anybody else killed unless you want to talk about them demon fellows." Spike seemed to calm down a bit and released Xander's chin. They both stood a bit straighter, still watching each other's eyes, as Spike said, "So maybe this time-loop business got us both a bit confused, not making the best plans for a bit, but we've got a clean shot at it now, yeah?"
And that made Xander smile with a bit of hope. Yeah, Spike was right. They had another chance right now, so it didn't matter if they'd messed things up – if he'd messed things up – before. Maybe there was a lesson in there somewhere, but he didn't have time to think about it right now. Right now they needed to pack up and head out and hope that the demons didn't know about the tunnels.
Spike seemed pretty confident that the tunnels would be safe. These spiny fellows were a bit too big, apparently, to make sewer tunnel travel comfortable. So Spike and Xander ran and scuttled and splashed their way to the sewer entrance less than a block from Buffy's…er…the Summers' house.
There was a bit of a nervous dash to the front door, with both of them watching expectantly for a spiny demon to suddenly appear, rambling about feeling jewels, but the next thing they knew they were inside the house and Xander was yelling his head off.
"Willow! Willow! Cast a protection spell or something! There are demons coming to kill us!" He and Spike warily inspected the downstairs of the house, wanting to make sure the bad guys hadn't preceded them somehow.
Willow emerged at the top of the staircase looking decidedly disheveled. "Xander?" she said quietly, frowning in confusion as she peered down at them. "And Spike? You're going to wake Tara and Dawn."
Xander ran forward, partway up the stairs, and explained quickly, "Some very bad, very spiny, very creepy demons are trying to kill us. Can you cast some kind of spell on the house to keep us safe here?"
Willow ran a hand through her messy hair and clutched her orange chenille bathrobe more tightly at her throat. "Xander, Tara and I keep a shield of protection around this house all the time now. Since…since…we want to keep Dawn safe. Nobody can come in without an invitation."
Xander glanced back down the stairs at Spike and they both heaved a sigh of relief, then grinned at each other. Spike asked Xander, "Is this the first time this happened?" and Xander nodded eagerly.
"We never got this close to figuring out what's going on before."
Willow cleared her throat, still looking rather grumpy and half- awake with the pillow creases on her face. "You mind telling me what the heck you guys are talking about?"
So Xander filled her in on all the details – well, not all the details, since some details just really didn't need to be shared at this particular juncture in time, if ever – and she trudged upstairs to wake up Tara and Dawn.
Yeah. All aboard the late-night emergency research party train. It was like a flashback to Xander's youth. But not an actual flashback, because there were quite enough of those going on these days, thank you very much.
The girls came downstairs dressed rather hurriedly, with shirts half-tucked and everything rumpled, their hair haphazardly combed, all rubbing their eyes and trying to look as if they were prepared to face imminent disaster and ward it off before immediately falling back asleep. Dawn, however, had a bit of an extra spring to her step which Xander easily identified – based on his own youthful experiences – as the Woo hoo! I get to be up really late! effect.
Willow pulled out dozens of Giles' old demon-identification guides, and they all ranged themselves around the living room and started looking for the spiny demons. After all, the first task, according to Willow, was to figure out what these demons were, so that they could have a better chance of figuring out why they were there, what they wanted, and how to kill them if necessary.
Xander and Spike had exchanged a look when she said that, then looked back at her, saying dryly in unison, "If necessary?" Then they'd looked at each other again and grinned. Yeah, they were gonna kill these things. They settled down with their extremely boring books to find out how.
The room was quiet except for the occasional turning of pages. Tara seemed to have a bit of a sniffle, though it was quiet and only sporadic. Xander found himself nodding off over the musty pages in his lap, and so stood and stretched. Everyone stopped what they were doing and looked at him.
"What? Oh…right…sorry. I've just…it's been a really long night and I'm bushed. I'm gonna go get some fresh air to help sharpen the old frontal lobes. But I'll be right back for more of the researchy goodness."
Everyone just sleepily nodded and went back to their demon-hunting, except Spike. "I'm gonna go have a smoke," he said, standing, "and make sure donut-boy doesn't fall asleep on the lawn."
Hearing Spike's comment as he walked away, Xander rolled his eyes, then stretched his head from one side to the other. It really had been a long night. He couldn't even remember how many times he'd gone through this whole thing since he got off work today. How many hours had it been since he'd slept? Did time looping hours still count as hours he hadn't slept?
As he approached the back door, he turned toward Spike and asked, "You think the back porch is covered by the protection spell?"
Spike shrugged carelessly. "We'll leave the door open. If any of the nasties show up, you can just duck inside."
Xander nodded tiredly – too tired to even object to Spike's use of "you" instead of "we" – and went out onto the porch, sitting on the top step and leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. It wasn't really the spell that made him feel safe out here. How crazy was it that, even after all these times they'd gotten killed, Spike made him feel safe?
Spike sat down beside him and lit up a cigarette.
Xander looked out at the darkness, his eyes feeling sore and dry, like he'd been awake far too long. "So, Spike," he began, still looking straight ahead, "how many times you figure you've saved my life?" He turned to look at Spike then.
His cigarette poised half-way to his mouth, his lips parted slightly in surprise, Spike seemed momentarily frozen. But then he was moving again, lifting his cigarette to his lips, drawing on it, exhaling a gray plume of smoke slowly into the darkness.
"Thought all this round and round was about me not saving your ass," Spike said.
Xander thought of all those times, of Spike fighting to save him, of Spike's face when he knew that he hadn't been able to save Xander. He cleared his throat. "I mean before this," Xander explained. "How many times have you killed some demon that was about to shishkebab me, while I was just laying there on the ground rubbing a bump on my head?"
Xander looked over at Spike again and saw that he was frowning. He looked a bit disgruntled, like he was feeling like he should say something he didn't want to. After a pause, Spike griped, "You're not always entirely useless. And you wouldn't be out on patrol if it weren't for me, anyway."
Xander's eyebrows went way up on that one. "Whoa! Back up there, buddy! Because I am not out on patrol because of you. I'm out on patrol because of Buffy, same as you are."
There was a long silence. He'd used her name, and they weren't supposed to do that. Spike was very still, as if frozen in place. So was Xander. They were like two statues in the backyard that was once Buffy's, still there even long after she was gone. Neither of them said anything, but there was a slight wind in the trees. It only seemed to make it more obvious that they weren't talking.
When Xander couldn't bear the silence anymore, he risked it. He asked quietly, "If you could bring her back, would you?"
Spike threw his cigarette out into the lawn, a small orange light arcing through the dark. "Nah." Spike's voice sounded a little weird, like he was being strangled, but Xander thought he sort of understood. This was tough stuff to talk about, for both of them. Even just mentioning her name was like a shock. "If there's a heaven," Spike continued in that choked voice, "then I figure little blond girls who save the world are probably first in line to go there. She paid her dues in full."
Xander watched Spike's face, which seemed more peaceful than he would have expected. "And you're okay with that?"
Spike looked down at his hands, weaving his fingers together between his knees. His voice sounded even more strained when he replied, "You know as well as I do that she never would've loved me. She told me often enough. Hell, you told me often enough." Xander winced and opened his mouth to say something, apologize somehow for past unkindnesses, but Spike was still talking. "Nah. It's time for me to move on. Figure out what to do next. That one's had me stumped these past few months. Not quite sure what I'm about now."
Spike cleared his throat and shook himself slightly, then looked over at Xander with a hint of a smile. "How 'bout you? You ever wish your demon would come running back?"
Xander smiled sadly. "No, that's over."
"What happened there?"
"With Anya?" Xander sighed heavily and shook his head, looking down at his hands, picking at a callus at the base of his thumb. He glanced hesitantly over at Spike, not wanting to bring up those painful memories again, memories they'd never actually discussed in any detail, memories they had danced around and avoided at all costs before tonight. "I don't think…"
"Just spit it out, whelp. I know it was right after…I won't go bat- shit just because you mention her name again."
Her. Not Anya, of course. Her.
Nodding hesitantly, Xander went back to rubbing at his callused thumb. It was nice and distracting.
"It was right after…" Xander cleared his throat. Why was this so hard? Was it only because they'd waited so long to talk about all of it? His voice was a bit stronger when he started again. "It was right after Buffy died." But he couldn't help the catch in his voice, and he couldn't help noticing the utter stillness of the man at his side. Xander stretched his neck to one side and then to the other, trying to ease the tension. "After Buffy…and, you know, Anya was pretty badly hurt…and with everybody injured and hurting…well…Anya…I guess she was feeling scared…and she wanted…she said she wanted to 'create life'."
Spike's head jerked back slightly with obvious surprise. Turning to look at Xander's partially averted face, Spike repeated with a slight smile, "Create life?"
Xander rolled his eyes, waiting for the mockery. "Yeah, yeah. I think she used the word 'spawn', too. It was all very romantic."
Spike was grinning now. "So the bint decided she wanted to start squeezing out puppies and you made a runner, eh?"
"What?" Xander exclaimed, offended. "What are you talking about? I didn't make a runner! No runners were made! Or, hey, if anyone was making runners, it was Anya!"
Spike just cocked an eyebrow in a wordless expectation of more.
Xander sighed again and looked at Spike out of the corners of his eyes, then down at the step beneath his feet. He'd forgotten about the callus on his thumb now, and his hands lay still between his knees. "I said no," he explained quietly, and there was still some sadness there as he said it. "I thought I was okay with getting married, but there's no way I'm ready to be a dad right now, especially with the example I had to learn from. So Anya decided to find a more willing sperm donor."
A slight frown wrinkled Spike's forehead between his brows. "So, you weren't willing to knock her up, so she took off in search of anybody willing to fuck her 'til she plumped?"
Xander winced. "Nice imagery there, Spike. Thanks ever so." But it didn't bother him, not really. Anya had done what she needed to do, and he missed her, but he was fine with it. It was the right thing for both of them.
He'd never really talked this openly with Spike before. There'd been the companionable silence, but there hadn't been the talking. Xander wondered if maybe it was because of the sex stuff he kept seeing when he looped. He would have expected something like that to make him feel disgusted or at least embarrassed, but he'd just gradually started feeling…calm. He'd felt glad to hold Spike, to put that look in his eyes. He'd felt close, and it had felt really really good. So it didn't feel strange to talk to him about Anya. It felt…right.
Spike was looking out into the dark backyard again, his eyes serious. Xander looked away, looked out at the yard, because Spike's face seemed too vulnerable just then, though he wasn't sure why. And then Spike spoke. "At least she loved you, mate. You had that. Mightn't have been forever, but you…" Spike paused, cleared his throat, then went on, "I was with Dru a hundred years, more, but she never loved me. Angelus had broken her so she didn't know how to love anymore."
Xander tilted his head and looked over at Spike, then quickly look away again, because Spike's eyes were shining and he was sure Spike wouldn't want him to see that. Xander asked gently, "What about when you were alive? When you were a poet?"
The sudden complete stillness next to him made Xander grimace slightly. He'd thought Spike was still before, but that was nothing compared to this. This was the stillness of the small animal hiding from a predator. This stillness had a faint air of desperate fear. Oh, shit. I hadn't told him I knew that.
Xander glanced over at Spike with an apologetic look on his face. "You told me, one of the other times we looped around."
Spike raised an eyebrow, obviously trying to look casual. "Can't imagine a situation in which I'd do that, but it's obviously true. Nobody to tell you 'bout it, since nobody knows."
Xander nodded quickly, "Exactly. You told me that, too."
Spike leaned forward, his forearms pressing into his thighs as he stared out into the dark. He rubbed his hands over his face then looked out at the darkness again. "I guess this time loop crap really is true, eh?"
Xander pulled a face. "Afraid so."
Spike turned his face away. "Wasn't full certain, but figured I'd go along because what the hell. Time distortion. Well, bugger me. Pain in the ass, that is."
Xander nodded emphatically. "I'd have to say a big YES to that one."
They were quite another moment before Spike asked in a voice that was probably intended to still sound casual, "So, what'd I tell you about Cecily?"
Xander frowned in confusion, "Cecily?"
Spike glanced back, then away again. "Yeah. Posh bint I fell in love with, wrote poetry for. Thought I had a chance, poor sod. Never had a chance." Spike's voice got quieter as he continued, "Never did, not with her, not ever." By the end, Xander could barely even hear him. Then, after a long silent moment, Spike sat up straighter and brushed his hands against his denim-clad kn