![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: The Resolute Urgency Of Now
Author: Emelye
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: Mature
Summary: "Dru gave me a hundred years of grand passion. What she never gave me was one chance to be first in her affections. Five minutes with you and I feel like the only man in the world. I'd trade ten lifetimes with Dru for ten more minutes with you."
Warnings: None.
Xander winced as the shop bell rang like a klaxon in his ears. "Hey guys, is Buffy around?"
"I think she's in the back. Xander, are you all right?" Willow asked.
"Yeah, you're looking pretty craptastic," Dawn contributed.
"I'm just excited about this meeting," he quipped, deliberately not meeting Anya's eye. She had been asleep when he came home and he'd opted to spend the night on the couch with a six-pack of cheap and domestic. They hadn't slept apart since Xander had signed the lease.
Buffy breezed through the training room door with a towel and water bottle followed by a sweat-soaked, red-faced and gasping Riley. "You know, everyone always goes on and on about how intense Ashtanga is, but I just find it really focusing," she stated with a mischievous smile.
"Grgl," he replied, intelligently.
"Hey Xan! Gotta say, I'm not loving the sleepless in Sunnydale look," Buffy greeted, taking pity on Riley and helping him to a bench.
"Where's deadboy?" He evaded.
Buffy fixed him with a look. "Taking patrol for me tonight."
"Really?"
"I think you really got to him, yesterday," Dawn whispered gleefully. "Spike bet me twenty dollars he'd have to rescue him."
"He can't be that out of practice, can he?"
"That's what I said! You don't think Spike set him up, do you?"
Just then Angel slammed through the door, cursing a blue streak and dripping viscous pink slime. "SPIKE!" He bellowed.
"He's not here. I believe he said something about sweeping Restview," said Giles without looking up from the book propped on the counter.
"I just came from Restview. Spike wasn't there. But do you know who was there? Four Fyarl demons who seemed to be under the impression that I owed them money!"
"Doesn't their mucus harden after a while? You should probably take care of that," Xander suggested helpfully.
"Come on," said Buffy, taking Angel's elbow before he killed Xander, "Riley's got a change of clothes in the back."
"Doesn't that bother you—him wearing your clothes?" Xander asked Riley, after they'd gone. Riley looked oddly serene.
"Guy's covered in demon slime and I just spent forty-five minutes watching Buffy do yoga. I think I still win this round."
Xander nodded sagely.
Angel cut a rather unimpressive figure in a Hawkeyes hooded sweatshirt and it was some time before he was able to convince everyone to sit down and stop laughing at him. "Thank you," he said as everyone finally gathered around the table. Gathering his dignity around him as best as he was able, he continued pacing in front of the cash-wrap.
"There are several key components to a formal challenge. The challengers announce themselves to the reigning Master, either themselves or their second, the Master sets the location the challenges are to take place, then the challenges begin, the oldest challenger going first and so on, one battle per day until either the challengers or the reigning Master are dust."
"So the position of second is primarily ceremonial?" Giles asked, intrigued.
"Yes and no. If a Master is incapacitated, the second fights on their behalf, but it isn't very common for a vampire to be injured severely enough not to fight without being dusted."
"What about weapons?" Buffy asked thoughtfully.
"Nothing mechanical. Everything else is allowed."
"Good," she stated.
Angel looked at her sharply. "You're not thinking…"
"If he won't accept you, I'm pretty much the only other option."
"Buffy, I don't think that's such a good idea," Riley said.
"Why not? I fight vampires. It's kind of my thing."
"You can't heal like a vampire. If you get a sword in the gut, it could kill you," Angel said.
"My guts, my decision."
"I think we're getting off topic," Giles interrupted, wearily. "What of the location?"
"Usually, it's the Master's residence."
"Somehow, I don't think Spike's crypt is going to cut it," said Buffy. "Options?"
"Oh, what about the old mansion, Angel?" Willow asked.
"I sold it when I moved to L.A."
Xander steeled himself to make his suggestion. "If Anya could make us a lot of money, very quickly…"
She perked up at that. "You bet your sweet ass I could! I've been learning about day trading, and…"
"I have complete faith in you," he interrupted, gently. She beamed him a thousand-watt smile.
"My company just bought up a bunch of houses in the old part of town to convert to rental properties. I'd like to make them an offer on one of them, and if they accept, I can restore it—"
Giles broke first. "Xander, that's a wonderful idea. That would give us the tactical advantage of keeping the contest on familiar ground."
"—I know it's a big job, but I really just need an extra pair of hands to frame the stairs and I figured that Dawn could help me with most of that and it's a lot of money but it's kind of a fixer-upper opportunity so—"
"Xander," Buffy stopped his babble. "It's a wonderful idea."
Everyone smiled encouragingly except for Anya who seemed strangely subdued.
"Guys, what gives?" He asked.
"What do you mean?" Asked Giles.
"This whole supportive thing you're doing."
Buffy looked genuinely confused. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say, huh?"
"Come on, we all know I'm a colossal screw-up. I'm not a watcher, a slayer, a witch or a partridge in a pear tree. Why is everyone listening to me all of a sudden?"
"Xander! How can you say that?" Willow asked.
"We never stopped listening, Xander," said Giles.
"You've always been idea guy, Xander," Buffy said. "Remember the rocket launcher?"
"Yeah, but that was just because I still had all those memories…"
"CPR?" Willow challenged.
"Well, sure, but…"
"I seem to recall detonating the school around the mayor was your idea," said Giles.
Xander paused. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome, wasn't it?" Xander had a sinking feeling that he had been very stupidly underestimating his friends. "So, the whole fray-adjacent thing…"
"Naturally we worry, Xander, but you've been an invaluable part of this group from the beginning," Giles explained. "I don't know why you insist on disparaging your intelligence so."
"Whelp's got a way of thinking around corners."
Xander's head whipped around. Spike stood in the doorway to the cellar, having come from the tunnels. As he watched, Spike removed a billfold from his coat and palmed Dawn a twenty.
"Hey, that's my wallet!" Angel protested. He was ignored.
Xander turned back to the group. "Guys, I don't know what to say. You all got so powerful so fast—and then with the college thing… I guess I just figured I'd pretty much become cannon fodder, which was cool, because at least I was helping."
"Oh, Xander, no," cried Willow.
"Xander it's precisely because you're so valuable that we try to keep you out of the line of fire, don't you understand? I must admit, I am relieved to finally have a reason for your reticence to contribute this past year. I—I've been quite concerned." Giles polished his glasses.
Willow threw her arms around him followed by Buffy a moment later, cracking his ribs.
"Ow, ow, ow! Feeling the love, Buff."
"Sorry," she sniffed.
Over Willow's shoulder, Xander saw Anya looking dejectedly at the table. Behind her Spike caught his eye and cleared his throat. "Xander, a word?" He asked.
Spike was using his given name? That piqued his curiosity. Reluctantly, he resolved to find out what was wrong with Anya later. "Sure, Spike," he answered gesturing toward the training room. "Guys, give us a sec?"
The others continued their discussion and Xander followed Spike into the back.
"What's up?"
Spike didn't meet his eye as he ran a hand over the pommel horse. "Look, Whelp, I was out of order last night, all right?"
"Spike, you don't have to apologize."
Spike looked at him in obvious confusion. "Wait…why? I mean, I'm not. Wait, are you patronizing me?"
"What? No! I just mean…" Xander backpedaled.
"I don't need you sparing my bloody dignity!" Spike shouted.
"I'm not!" Xander insisted.
"Good!" Spike looked around, seeming suddenly unsure of his purpose in being there.
Xander sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. "You weren't wrong, what you said."
"Xander…" Spike began.
"No, don't, okay? I know. That's why I…shit, Spike, I just wanted to do something right, you know?"
"Which is why what I said last night was a load of bollocks," Spike admitted. "Your da never put anyone else first in his life. You're a right charitable bloke, an' I was brassed off because—"
"You're not my charity case, Spike."
Spike paused in his gesticulating. "Huh? I…well…of course m'not."
Xander smiled, conspiratorially. "This is what's best for the town. And it royally pisses off Angel."
Spike smirked at that. "And the enemy of my enemy is my friend, eh, Harris?"
Xander grinned. "Something like that."
Having reached a détente, Spike suddenly looked awkward.
Xander took pity on him. "You want to see the house?"
Spike nodded in relief. "Yeah, mate."
"Great. I'm parked in back. Just let me tell the others, and we'll go."
As they walked to the car, Xander was suddenly struck by the faith his friends and reluctant ally were placing in him. It made him feel kind of warm.
"Oi, Xander…"
"Yeah, Spike?"
"What house?"
The house was faded whitewash over brick, done in the Spanish mission style. There were two stories, with turreted front and back entryways and three-story towers on the north-east and south-west corners giving it a sort of Victorian character, though the house was built in 1915 and had quite a lot of art deco stained glass throughout. It had once been a jazz age masterpiece, but had stood in disrepair so long that the original woodwork was largely dried-out, warped and cracked, many of the original floor tiles were broken and the beautiful stained glass windows were grimy and dark. The roof leaked in places, the wiring was an arsonists dream and the less said about the plumbing, the better.
Xander had fallen in love at first sight.
"The gardens are kind of a mess, I know, but my buddy at work says his brother can landscape it for us at cost."
Spike looked doubtful.
Xander entered the realtors code into the box on the door handle and removed the key.
Which caught in the door and refused to turn.
"Here, let me give it a go," Spike offered, as Xander colored and stepped aside.
With the application of vampire elbow grease, the sticky lock finally turned and the door swung open with a comically gothic groan. Xander steeled himself for a jibe that never came.
Spike stood in the foyer with an unfathomable look on his face. "Dru an' me stayed in a place like this once. Had parties lasted weeks, people comin' an' goin' at all hours. Everyone drunk an' dancing. Dru ate ten girls one night an' no one noticed. Got right tipsy on their blood, she did."
"Good times?" Xander ventured.
Spike looked at him intently. Xander felt like he was being willed to understand. "The best."
Xander nodded, not sure if he understood completely, but something told him this was about more than bloodlust.
"Those years before the crash were some of the best we had. Before the depression made folk skittish, before that damned U-boat—"
"U-boat?"
"—Ask the poof to tell you about it sometime. We had some times, Dru an' me. Until Prague, anyway." Spike trailed off and Xander didn't push. He showed him what he could of the living and dining areas, the half bath and the kitchen.
Opening a door off the main hall, he explained, "The stairs are all rotted so I won't take you down, but I'm thinking we'll be able to outfit the cellar for the fight…" Xander trailed off.
Spike nodded. "If they're putting out a formal challenge it's my right to set the whereabouts of the contest."
"Why do I hear a 'but' in there?"
Spike sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know these other vamps from Adam. They might play by the rules, but I reckon it'd be smarter to try an' off me before it comes to that."
Xander privately agreed.
"Xander, oh good, you're back," Giles began, shifting books around the shop counter. Willow sat in the loft surrounded by piles of spell books that Dawn was surreptitiously reshelving.
"How was the house? Was it cool?" Dawn asked Spike as he perched on the ladder. Xander took his usual seat at the table and began casually flipping through the book in front of him.
"Wasn't half bad. What'd you lot find out?"
"Angel and Buffy got the names of the other Masters down at Willie's and we've been researching them here, and guess what? One of them is a kid!"
"Dawn," Giles warned.
"Okay well he's not actually a kid, but he was turned when he was like, twelve or something. Creepy huh?"
Spike turned to Giles with a fairly serious look on his face. "This wouldn't be Kitchener's bastard, we're talking about, would it?"
Giles nodded wearily. "One and the same, I'm afraid. It seems the political unrest in the Sudan has made vampirism extremely difficult in Khartoum."
Spike snorted. "I'd be surprised if there's anyone left to eat."
"What kind of a threat is this kid?" Xander asked.
"This 'kid', as you call him, has ruled an ancient East African city for the past 91 years. You would do well not to underestimate him."
"Any idea who his second will be?" Spike asked.
"There are several possibilities. He has several older childer, though he favors a Fulani vampiress who has apparently filled a kind of maternal capacity for some time."
"Sounds practical. Hard to move about independent-like when you look like your balls haven't dropped."
Giles rolled his eyes and continued. "Your other opponents are a bit of a mystery. According to what Angel was able to find out, the Mistress of San Paulo has recently pulled up stakes and seemed to be heading this direction."
"And who's this bint when she's at home?"
Giles steeled himself in a way Xander had learned to mean whatever he was about to say was extremely disturbing. "Willow?" He called.
Willow's head poked up from the loft. "Yes, Giles?"
Giles looked at Dawn and something unspoken passed between them. Dawn nodded and began to pack her book bag.
"Willow, would you mind taking Dawn home?"
"Sure thing, just let me mark my place and I'll be right down."
"Thank you."
Spike's brow furrowed. Catching Giles' eye he inclined his head toward Dawn.
Giles shook his head and tipped his head in Willow's direction.
Both their eyebrows rose.
When both girls had finally left, Giles removed the kettle from the hotplate and poured tea for all of them, gesturing for them to sit down.
"Jesus, Giles, you're scaring me. Who is this chick?" Xander asked.
Giles cleared his throat and began. "She's a Nazi ex-patriot and the former protégé of Joseph Mengale."
"Jesus."
"Oh, holy fuck," Xander whimpered.
"Indeed."
They sat there in silence, holding their teacups without drinking.
"Who's her second," Spike asked soberly.
"She doesn't have any childer at the moment. Our best guess is a minion of some sort."
"At the moment?" Xander asked and immediately regretted it.
"It doesn't seem her enthusiasm for science has lessened any over the years."
Xander felt the bile rise in his throat. "I'm gonna be sick," he managed to get out before bolting for the washroom. As he heaved the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the old nightmares came back to him in merciless Technicolor. Willow with her hair shorn, standing in a gas chamber. Willow rail thin, being burned alive. Willow crying, reaching for him to save her. He hadn't realized he'd been crying until he heard the knock on the door.
"Xander, are you all right?"
He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped his face. "M'fine. Just a second," he called out.
"Jessica, where's the boy been all damn day?"
"Sheila Rosenberg invited him to lunch, Tony, I told you yesterday."
"I thought I said I didn't want him hanging around that little Jew girl! Xander get out here! Dammit Jessica, those kike bastards shut down the plant, and now you're gonna let them brainwash our son? Come here, boy, World At War is on, I wanna show you something…"
Xander retched until his ribs ached.
Giles looked at him like he expected him to shatter into a million pieces when he finally emerged.
He held up his hand. "I'm fine," he said, hoarsely. "What do we know about the other Master?"
Neither Giles nor Spike looked inclined to believe that he was fine, but to their credit they pressed on ahead. "This is the strange part, you see," Giles began. "The other Masters are fairly young, powerful enough to pose a challenge and both have motivation to claim the Hellmouth. The other is Henri De Sauveterre."
"What?" Spike asked, visibly shocked.
"Who's Henri De—"
"The Master of New Orleans," Spike answered, briskly. "Are you sure, Watcher?"
"As near as I can be. He and his consort left New Orleans yesterday and left instructions to their minions to contact them here."
"Bugger all…" Spike moaned, burying his face in his hands.
"I don't understand," Xander said.
"It's like this, yeah? Henri's got a couple years on the poof, but he's spent nearly all of them as Master of New Orleans. He's a fucking institution there and a bloody scary son-of-a-bitch. I don't know what he's playing at, but if he's serious, I might as well stake myself now."
"I tend to doubt he has any real interest in the Hellmouth. It might be that he's simply interested in you. It is fairly unusual for a Master vampire to come into power so late."
Spike seemed to consider this, but hardly looked reassured.
Xander found he couldn't stop shaking. "Giles, I need to burn off some energy. Mind if I go a few rounds with the heavy bag?"
"Hmm, what? Oh, yes, of course. Help yourself."
Xander pummeled the bag with respectable form, trying like hell to ignore the worried tone of Spike's voice as he argued with Giles in the front room. Twenty or thirty minutes in, Xander couldn't be sure, the adrenaline spike seemed to wear off. He pulled off his shirt and began to mop his face. Remembering that he still needed to have that talk with Anya, he had a sudden overwhelming desire to avoid his apartment.
Bench press it was. Xander listened and couldn't hear anything from the front. Giles must have gone back to researching. "Spike, mind giving me a hand in back?" Xander called, sliding two fifty-pound weights onto the bar. Without waiting he lowered himself onto the bench and began a set of ten reps.
"You're gonna tear something going at it like that. That's too much weight. You gotta warm up a little first."
"That's why you're spotting me."
"How do ya know I wouldn't just leave you there?"
Xander felt something rip in his shoulder. "I'm about to find out. Spike!"
Spike ran over and pulled the bar off of him with little effort. "Oi, I told you that was too much weight too fast, git."
"Yeah, yeah, just help me out here."
Spike took a hold of Xander's arm and helped him sit up, then handed him a towel, which he took gratefully. "Don't know why you don't just go to a gym. Have someone show you how to do this properly since you listen to fuck all I say."
Xander reached for the water bottle by the bench and found he couldn't extend his arm far enough to reach. Spike huffed and handed it to him.
"Not a fan of ogling in the locker room. Thanks."
"How do you know I'm not ogling you?"
Xander spit water all over the weight bench. Spike leered. Xander gave him a look that clearly spelled doubt as he wiped down the equipment.
Spike seemed offended. "I'm a vampire, whelp. For all you know my sexual preference is yes."
Xander rolled his eyes then added, entirely too casually, "You know, Angel is a surprisingly chatty drunk."
Spike was up like a shot, finger jabbing sharply in his chest. "WHAT? That pouf better not av'…I'll…it was ONE BLOODY TIME and for your information…"
Xander put up his hands and backed away, laughing. "Relax Cassanever, I was joking. You are a paragon of all that is manly and heterosexual."
"You're damn straight."
It was Xander's turn to leer. "You sure about that?" he said.
Xander couldn't help laughing at Spike's swiftly retreating back. Suddenly feeling much more optimistic, Xander retrieved his shirt and went home.
Chapter Three
Author: Emelye
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: Mature
Summary: "Dru gave me a hundred years of grand passion. What she never gave me was one chance to be first in her affections. Five minutes with you and I feel like the only man in the world. I'd trade ten lifetimes with Dru for ten more minutes with you."
Warnings: None.
Xander winced as the shop bell rang like a klaxon in his ears. "Hey guys, is Buffy around?"
"I think she's in the back. Xander, are you all right?" Willow asked.
"Yeah, you're looking pretty craptastic," Dawn contributed.
"I'm just excited about this meeting," he quipped, deliberately not meeting Anya's eye. She had been asleep when he came home and he'd opted to spend the night on the couch with a six-pack of cheap and domestic. They hadn't slept apart since Xander had signed the lease.
Buffy breezed through the training room door with a towel and water bottle followed by a sweat-soaked, red-faced and gasping Riley. "You know, everyone always goes on and on about how intense Ashtanga is, but I just find it really focusing," she stated with a mischievous smile.
"Grgl," he replied, intelligently.
"Hey Xan! Gotta say, I'm not loving the sleepless in Sunnydale look," Buffy greeted, taking pity on Riley and helping him to a bench.
"Where's deadboy?" He evaded.
Buffy fixed him with a look. "Taking patrol for me tonight."
"Really?"
"I think you really got to him, yesterday," Dawn whispered gleefully. "Spike bet me twenty dollars he'd have to rescue him."
"He can't be that out of practice, can he?"
"That's what I said! You don't think Spike set him up, do you?"
Just then Angel slammed through the door, cursing a blue streak and dripping viscous pink slime. "SPIKE!" He bellowed.
"He's not here. I believe he said something about sweeping Restview," said Giles without looking up from the book propped on the counter.
"I just came from Restview. Spike wasn't there. But do you know who was there? Four Fyarl demons who seemed to be under the impression that I owed them money!"
"Doesn't their mucus harden after a while? You should probably take care of that," Xander suggested helpfully.
"Come on," said Buffy, taking Angel's elbow before he killed Xander, "Riley's got a change of clothes in the back."
"Doesn't that bother you—him wearing your clothes?" Xander asked Riley, after they'd gone. Riley looked oddly serene.
"Guy's covered in demon slime and I just spent forty-five minutes watching Buffy do yoga. I think I still win this round."
Xander nodded sagely.
Angel cut a rather unimpressive figure in a Hawkeyes hooded sweatshirt and it was some time before he was able to convince everyone to sit down and stop laughing at him. "Thank you," he said as everyone finally gathered around the table. Gathering his dignity around him as best as he was able, he continued pacing in front of the cash-wrap.
"There are several key components to a formal challenge. The challengers announce themselves to the reigning Master, either themselves or their second, the Master sets the location the challenges are to take place, then the challenges begin, the oldest challenger going first and so on, one battle per day until either the challengers or the reigning Master are dust."
"So the position of second is primarily ceremonial?" Giles asked, intrigued.
"Yes and no. If a Master is incapacitated, the second fights on their behalf, but it isn't very common for a vampire to be injured severely enough not to fight without being dusted."
"What about weapons?" Buffy asked thoughtfully.
"Nothing mechanical. Everything else is allowed."
"Good," she stated.
Angel looked at her sharply. "You're not thinking…"
"If he won't accept you, I'm pretty much the only other option."
"Buffy, I don't think that's such a good idea," Riley said.
"Why not? I fight vampires. It's kind of my thing."
"You can't heal like a vampire. If you get a sword in the gut, it could kill you," Angel said.
"My guts, my decision."
"I think we're getting off topic," Giles interrupted, wearily. "What of the location?"
"Usually, it's the Master's residence."
"Somehow, I don't think Spike's crypt is going to cut it," said Buffy. "Options?"
"Oh, what about the old mansion, Angel?" Willow asked.
"I sold it when I moved to L.A."
Xander steeled himself to make his suggestion. "If Anya could make us a lot of money, very quickly…"
She perked up at that. "You bet your sweet ass I could! I've been learning about day trading, and…"
"I have complete faith in you," he interrupted, gently. She beamed him a thousand-watt smile.
"My company just bought up a bunch of houses in the old part of town to convert to rental properties. I'd like to make them an offer on one of them, and if they accept, I can restore it—"
Giles broke first. "Xander, that's a wonderful idea. That would give us the tactical advantage of keeping the contest on familiar ground."
"—I know it's a big job, but I really just need an extra pair of hands to frame the stairs and I figured that Dawn could help me with most of that and it's a lot of money but it's kind of a fixer-upper opportunity so—"
"Xander," Buffy stopped his babble. "It's a wonderful idea."
Everyone smiled encouragingly except for Anya who seemed strangely subdued.
"Guys, what gives?" He asked.
"What do you mean?" Asked Giles.
"This whole supportive thing you're doing."
Buffy looked genuinely confused. "I think I speak for everyone here when I say, huh?"
"Come on, we all know I'm a colossal screw-up. I'm not a watcher, a slayer, a witch or a partridge in a pear tree. Why is everyone listening to me all of a sudden?"
"Xander! How can you say that?" Willow asked.
"We never stopped listening, Xander," said Giles.
"You've always been idea guy, Xander," Buffy said. "Remember the rocket launcher?"
"Yeah, but that was just because I still had all those memories…"
"CPR?" Willow challenged.
"Well, sure, but…"
"I seem to recall detonating the school around the mayor was your idea," said Giles.
Xander paused. "Yeah, that was pretty awesome, wasn't it?" Xander had a sinking feeling that he had been very stupidly underestimating his friends. "So, the whole fray-adjacent thing…"
"Naturally we worry, Xander, but you've been an invaluable part of this group from the beginning," Giles explained. "I don't know why you insist on disparaging your intelligence so."
"Whelp's got a way of thinking around corners."
Xander's head whipped around. Spike stood in the doorway to the cellar, having come from the tunnels. As he watched, Spike removed a billfold from his coat and palmed Dawn a twenty.
"Hey, that's my wallet!" Angel protested. He was ignored.
Xander turned back to the group. "Guys, I don't know what to say. You all got so powerful so fast—and then with the college thing… I guess I just figured I'd pretty much become cannon fodder, which was cool, because at least I was helping."
"Oh, Xander, no," cried Willow.
"Xander it's precisely because you're so valuable that we try to keep you out of the line of fire, don't you understand? I must admit, I am relieved to finally have a reason for your reticence to contribute this past year. I—I've been quite concerned." Giles polished his glasses.
Willow threw her arms around him followed by Buffy a moment later, cracking his ribs.
"Ow, ow, ow! Feeling the love, Buff."
"Sorry," she sniffed.
Over Willow's shoulder, Xander saw Anya looking dejectedly at the table. Behind her Spike caught his eye and cleared his throat. "Xander, a word?" He asked.
Spike was using his given name? That piqued his curiosity. Reluctantly, he resolved to find out what was wrong with Anya later. "Sure, Spike," he answered gesturing toward the training room. "Guys, give us a sec?"
The others continued their discussion and Xander followed Spike into the back.
"What's up?"
Spike didn't meet his eye as he ran a hand over the pommel horse. "Look, Whelp, I was out of order last night, all right?"
"Spike, you don't have to apologize."
Spike looked at him in obvious confusion. "Wait…why? I mean, I'm not. Wait, are you patronizing me?"
"What? No! I just mean…" Xander backpedaled.
"I don't need you sparing my bloody dignity!" Spike shouted.
"I'm not!" Xander insisted.
"Good!" Spike looked around, seeming suddenly unsure of his purpose in being there.
Xander sighed heavily and ran his hand through his hair. "You weren't wrong, what you said."
"Xander…" Spike began.
"No, don't, okay? I know. That's why I…shit, Spike, I just wanted to do something right, you know?"
"Which is why what I said last night was a load of bollocks," Spike admitted. "Your da never put anyone else first in his life. You're a right charitable bloke, an' I was brassed off because—"
"You're not my charity case, Spike."
Spike paused in his gesticulating. "Huh? I…well…of course m'not."
Xander smiled, conspiratorially. "This is what's best for the town. And it royally pisses off Angel."
Spike smirked at that. "And the enemy of my enemy is my friend, eh, Harris?"
Xander grinned. "Something like that."
Having reached a détente, Spike suddenly looked awkward.
Xander took pity on him. "You want to see the house?"
Spike nodded in relief. "Yeah, mate."
"Great. I'm parked in back. Just let me tell the others, and we'll go."
As they walked to the car, Xander was suddenly struck by the faith his friends and reluctant ally were placing in him. It made him feel kind of warm.
"Oi, Xander…"
"Yeah, Spike?"
"What house?"
The house was faded whitewash over brick, done in the Spanish mission style. There were two stories, with turreted front and back entryways and three-story towers on the north-east and south-west corners giving it a sort of Victorian character, though the house was built in 1915 and had quite a lot of art deco stained glass throughout. It had once been a jazz age masterpiece, but had stood in disrepair so long that the original woodwork was largely dried-out, warped and cracked, many of the original floor tiles were broken and the beautiful stained glass windows were grimy and dark. The roof leaked in places, the wiring was an arsonists dream and the less said about the plumbing, the better.
Xander had fallen in love at first sight.
"The gardens are kind of a mess, I know, but my buddy at work says his brother can landscape it for us at cost."
Spike looked doubtful.
Xander entered the realtors code into the box on the door handle and removed the key.
Which caught in the door and refused to turn.
"Here, let me give it a go," Spike offered, as Xander colored and stepped aside.
With the application of vampire elbow grease, the sticky lock finally turned and the door swung open with a comically gothic groan. Xander steeled himself for a jibe that never came.
Spike stood in the foyer with an unfathomable look on his face. "Dru an' me stayed in a place like this once. Had parties lasted weeks, people comin' an' goin' at all hours. Everyone drunk an' dancing. Dru ate ten girls one night an' no one noticed. Got right tipsy on their blood, she did."
"Good times?" Xander ventured.
Spike looked at him intently. Xander felt like he was being willed to understand. "The best."
Xander nodded, not sure if he understood completely, but something told him this was about more than bloodlust.
"Those years before the crash were some of the best we had. Before the depression made folk skittish, before that damned U-boat—"
"U-boat?"
"—Ask the poof to tell you about it sometime. We had some times, Dru an' me. Until Prague, anyway." Spike trailed off and Xander didn't push. He showed him what he could of the living and dining areas, the half bath and the kitchen.
Opening a door off the main hall, he explained, "The stairs are all rotted so I won't take you down, but I'm thinking we'll be able to outfit the cellar for the fight…" Xander trailed off.
Spike nodded. "If they're putting out a formal challenge it's my right to set the whereabouts of the contest."
"Why do I hear a 'but' in there?"
Spike sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. "I don't know these other vamps from Adam. They might play by the rules, but I reckon it'd be smarter to try an' off me before it comes to that."
Xander privately agreed.
"Xander, oh good, you're back," Giles began, shifting books around the shop counter. Willow sat in the loft surrounded by piles of spell books that Dawn was surreptitiously reshelving.
"How was the house? Was it cool?" Dawn asked Spike as he perched on the ladder. Xander took his usual seat at the table and began casually flipping through the book in front of him.
"Wasn't half bad. What'd you lot find out?"
"Angel and Buffy got the names of the other Masters down at Willie's and we've been researching them here, and guess what? One of them is a kid!"
"Dawn," Giles warned.
"Okay well he's not actually a kid, but he was turned when he was like, twelve or something. Creepy huh?"
Spike turned to Giles with a fairly serious look on his face. "This wouldn't be Kitchener's bastard, we're talking about, would it?"
Giles nodded wearily. "One and the same, I'm afraid. It seems the political unrest in the Sudan has made vampirism extremely difficult in Khartoum."
Spike snorted. "I'd be surprised if there's anyone left to eat."
"What kind of a threat is this kid?" Xander asked.
"This 'kid', as you call him, has ruled an ancient East African city for the past 91 years. You would do well not to underestimate him."
"Any idea who his second will be?" Spike asked.
"There are several possibilities. He has several older childer, though he favors a Fulani vampiress who has apparently filled a kind of maternal capacity for some time."
"Sounds practical. Hard to move about independent-like when you look like your balls haven't dropped."
Giles rolled his eyes and continued. "Your other opponents are a bit of a mystery. According to what Angel was able to find out, the Mistress of San Paulo has recently pulled up stakes and seemed to be heading this direction."
"And who's this bint when she's at home?"
Giles steeled himself in a way Xander had learned to mean whatever he was about to say was extremely disturbing. "Willow?" He called.
Willow's head poked up from the loft. "Yes, Giles?"
Giles looked at Dawn and something unspoken passed between them. Dawn nodded and began to pack her book bag.
"Willow, would you mind taking Dawn home?"
"Sure thing, just let me mark my place and I'll be right down."
"Thank you."
Spike's brow furrowed. Catching Giles' eye he inclined his head toward Dawn.
Giles shook his head and tipped his head in Willow's direction.
Both their eyebrows rose.
When both girls had finally left, Giles removed the kettle from the hotplate and poured tea for all of them, gesturing for them to sit down.
"Jesus, Giles, you're scaring me. Who is this chick?" Xander asked.
Giles cleared his throat and began. "She's a Nazi ex-patriot and the former protégé of Joseph Mengale."
"Jesus."
"Oh, holy fuck," Xander whimpered.
"Indeed."
They sat there in silence, holding their teacups without drinking.
"Who's her second," Spike asked soberly.
"She doesn't have any childer at the moment. Our best guess is a minion of some sort."
"At the moment?" Xander asked and immediately regretted it.
"It doesn't seem her enthusiasm for science has lessened any over the years."
Xander felt the bile rise in his throat. "I'm gonna be sick," he managed to get out before bolting for the washroom. As he heaved the contents of his stomach into the toilet, the old nightmares came back to him in merciless Technicolor. Willow with her hair shorn, standing in a gas chamber. Willow rail thin, being burned alive. Willow crying, reaching for him to save her. He hadn't realized he'd been crying until he heard the knock on the door.
"Xander, are you all right?"
He grabbed a wad of toilet paper and wiped his face. "M'fine. Just a second," he called out.
"Jessica, where's the boy been all damn day?"
"Sheila Rosenberg invited him to lunch, Tony, I told you yesterday."
"I thought I said I didn't want him hanging around that little Jew girl! Xander get out here! Dammit Jessica, those kike bastards shut down the plant, and now you're gonna let them brainwash our son? Come here, boy, World At War is on, I wanna show you something…"
Xander retched until his ribs ached.
Giles looked at him like he expected him to shatter into a million pieces when he finally emerged.
He held up his hand. "I'm fine," he said, hoarsely. "What do we know about the other Master?"
Neither Giles nor Spike looked inclined to believe that he was fine, but to their credit they pressed on ahead. "This is the strange part, you see," Giles began. "The other Masters are fairly young, powerful enough to pose a challenge and both have motivation to claim the Hellmouth. The other is Henri De Sauveterre."
"What?" Spike asked, visibly shocked.
"Who's Henri De—"
"The Master of New Orleans," Spike answered, briskly. "Are you sure, Watcher?"
"As near as I can be. He and his consort left New Orleans yesterday and left instructions to their minions to contact them here."
"Bugger all…" Spike moaned, burying his face in his hands.
"I don't understand," Xander said.
"It's like this, yeah? Henri's got a couple years on the poof, but he's spent nearly all of them as Master of New Orleans. He's a fucking institution there and a bloody scary son-of-a-bitch. I don't know what he's playing at, but if he's serious, I might as well stake myself now."
"I tend to doubt he has any real interest in the Hellmouth. It might be that he's simply interested in you. It is fairly unusual for a Master vampire to come into power so late."
Spike seemed to consider this, but hardly looked reassured.
Xander found he couldn't stop shaking. "Giles, I need to burn off some energy. Mind if I go a few rounds with the heavy bag?"
"Hmm, what? Oh, yes, of course. Help yourself."
Xander pummeled the bag with respectable form, trying like hell to ignore the worried tone of Spike's voice as he argued with Giles in the front room. Twenty or thirty minutes in, Xander couldn't be sure, the adrenaline spike seemed to wear off. He pulled off his shirt and began to mop his face. Remembering that he still needed to have that talk with Anya, he had a sudden overwhelming desire to avoid his apartment.
Bench press it was. Xander listened and couldn't hear anything from the front. Giles must have gone back to researching. "Spike, mind giving me a hand in back?" Xander called, sliding two fifty-pound weights onto the bar. Without waiting he lowered himself onto the bench and began a set of ten reps.
"You're gonna tear something going at it like that. That's too much weight. You gotta warm up a little first."
"That's why you're spotting me."
"How do ya know I wouldn't just leave you there?"
Xander felt something rip in his shoulder. "I'm about to find out. Spike!"
Spike ran over and pulled the bar off of him with little effort. "Oi, I told you that was too much weight too fast, git."
"Yeah, yeah, just help me out here."
Spike took a hold of Xander's arm and helped him sit up, then handed him a towel, which he took gratefully. "Don't know why you don't just go to a gym. Have someone show you how to do this properly since you listen to fuck all I say."
Xander reached for the water bottle by the bench and found he couldn't extend his arm far enough to reach. Spike huffed and handed it to him.
"Not a fan of ogling in the locker room. Thanks."
"How do you know I'm not ogling you?"
Xander spit water all over the weight bench. Spike leered. Xander gave him a look that clearly spelled doubt as he wiped down the equipment.
Spike seemed offended. "I'm a vampire, whelp. For all you know my sexual preference is yes."
Xander rolled his eyes then added, entirely too casually, "You know, Angel is a surprisingly chatty drunk."
Spike was up like a shot, finger jabbing sharply in his chest. "WHAT? That pouf better not av'…I'll…it was ONE BLOODY TIME and for your information…"
Xander put up his hands and backed away, laughing. "Relax Cassanever, I was joking. You are a paragon of all that is manly and heterosexual."
"You're damn straight."
It was Xander's turn to leer. "You sure about that?" he said.
Xander couldn't help laughing at Spike's swiftly retreating back. Suddenly feeling much more optimistic, Xander retrieved his shirt and went home.
Chapter Three
From:
no subject
Heeeeeee! Oh, i love that. I love the house, too, too fun and it sounds utterly awesome. All these challengers to Spike's supremacy!
*bounce*
:)
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From:
no subject
From: (Anonymous)
no subject
From:
no subject
From: (Anonymous)
no subject
Always makes me giggle!!!
"You're damn straight."
It was Xander's turn to leer. "You sure about that?" he said.
And then this as an ending just makes me swoon!!
From:
Whoops!