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Part Fourteen: Grey smoke danced up uninterrupted in the silence, barely visible in the dim light of the crypt. Bare footed, Spike sat with one leg stretched on the floor while the other was bent up bracing his elbow - the cold stone wall against his back. Two fingers, V shaped, held the cigarette in place as the tip glowed brighter with each dragging breath. Through the mass of long uncombed hair, Spike stared at a dusty blue vase on top of his television. It mocked the rugged surrounding, showing off a veiled feminine elegance with its unique design despite the small crack on top. It appeared out of place in his dark, filthy, messy,
manly domicile.
He never noticed it before.
Grabbing the nearest discarded beer bottle, Spike hurled it at the boastful vase. The sound of it breaking on the solid ground into countless little pieces did little to appease him, as the echo of it in his ear was reminiscent of derisive giggles a clan of cerulean fae had bore into his ears for a fortnight when he had fallen prey to their web many years ago.
He growled at the memory of yet another time he was weak - helpless. However, then, he had found a way to break free – no thanks to a fickle Drusilla. His skin was in tatters when it was over, but he was no longer ‘pretty to keep’.
Not now though. He emptied his drink without tasting it, tossing his cigarette in the bottle. He got up and staggered towards the split clay. The phantom laughter clouded his mind as he stomped on the shattered pieces, intent on crushing them to dust.
The pain in his foot was a solace to his crazed mind as it broke him out of his momentary trip down a path filled with impious diminutive wooden creatures.
“Hell’s frozen.” He grabbed at his long hair with aggravation, an act he had found himself unconsciously doing more and more. “How the mighty wolf had fallen.” He limberly raised his leg to his face and plucked out the prickly bits of broken vase out of his foot. He uncaringly lowered his bleeding foot to the ground and headed towards his chair, flopping down with a deep sigh. He pulled out a cigarette from the cushions and stared at it. Snorting somberly, he mumbled, “Better watch it, or soon enough I’d find myself brooding and wishing I had a heartbeat.”
Lighting up the bud and taking a long drag, he let his arm hang over the chair’s arm, ashes falling to the ground while he lost himself once more in contemplation.
He stared sightlessly at the broken glass, slowly blowing out a cloud of smoke. He had nearly lost it just now - like a feeble mortal. He had to get a grip and think about his situation rationally.
Things couldn't get worse. He was already wallowing in the dank and reeking bottom, there was no more down he could get.
"There you are," Xander's wise-cracking voice sounded from the door.
Tempting fate, slick. Spike growled inwardly before putting on a bored expression and turning to Xander, forcing himself to relax into the chair. "What?" The cigarette bobbed in his mouth as he checked out the intruder.
Xander looked different, and it wasn't about him being all hairy again. Spike was hard-pressed to even think it, but Xander looked better than he was before fate had decided to put a pathetic chipped vampire in the middle of a domestic squabble.
Xander’s hair was neatly gelled, reminiscent of another look that irked Spike. His face was smoothly shaven and he wore well-fitting black slacks and a red shirt completed with a black jacket.
Was this a brand-new Xander Harris or did the git pull out the fashion fairy for the sole purpose of annoying him? Spike angrily bit on his cigarette, cracking the stem before spitting it out onto the floor.
"Was that a scream I heard?" Xander asked, letting himself in.
Spike imagined that a vase breaking could sound very different if heard from outside the crypt. He frowned. “Bugger off.”
Xander walked towards Spike – ignoring the unwelcome air and swinging a bag over his shoulder. "Was it a roach? Want me to step on it?" He shook his big sneaker in Spike's face.
Spike narrowed his eyes. On autopilot, he pulled out a fresh cigarette and fiddled with it before placing it in his mouth and lightening it up.
He needed to buy a new pack.
Xander made a show of looking around. "Was it a nasty rat? Not to worry. No mouse is mightier than the man." Hands closed in fists, Xander placed them on his side, showing off his big macho body.
Weak as his act was, Spike didn’t put it past Xander to be getting back at him for all the insults and jokes, despite having been personally responsible for his grief. Spike felt suppressed anger bubble in his chest and calculated how much he could harm the insipid human before the chip fried him completely. He hissed, "Are you rat-arsed or just your regular ‘I damn forgot my brain in my other suit’ nutter?"
“I’m all here, baby!” Xander responded with hearty confidence.
Spike got up, flicked his cigarette at Xander and watched him jump out of the way before putting it off with his huge manly shoe. Infuriatingly, Xander grinned up at him.
Maybe Spike could burn him as he slept.
Flinging his hair backwards with a quick raise of his head, Spike crossed his arms and frowned at the smug jerk. "Why are you here?" Spike sniffed at the air. “And why do you smell like a male escort?”
“Putting that TMI in ‘the box’ and-” Xander shook off his nervous expression then adjusted his collar. "There, all better.” He plastered that annoying smile on his face once more. “I wanna celebrate my big 'he's male again' victory out in the town."
Spike's jaw tightened, guessing where Xander’s mouth was running at. "No one’s home, call again - never."
Xander mock-pouted. "Can't go without a date."
He held up the bag and tossed it at Spike. Instinctively, Spike caught it and looked in inside to find what looked like a simple little black dress and matching high heels. The rumbling thoughts in his head were interrupted by an order.
"Fix yourself up," Xander said as he leaned against the wall, muscled arms crossing over his wide chest.
Spike blinked livid eyes at the idiot in front of him. Fire was a painful and serving way to die. He hissed a dangerous, "Why you…"
"Oh, and don’t worry." Xander beamed. "I stole Buffy's make up. I know you like her collection better than Willow 's." He pointed at the bag. His exhausted grin dissolved into a critical grimace. "But, dude, that hair--” He tisked. “Good thing I tossed in a comb."
"Look, you sodding…"
"Right.” Xander smacked a hand to his forehead. “What was I thinking?" Xander turned around, giving Spike his back. "As a true gentleman I wouldn't peek." Throwing a lopsided grin over his shoulder, he added, "Much."
Spike was tempted to burn the women wear with his lighter, but that would give Xander the satisfaction and might point a finger at Spike when Xander’s charred corpse was discovered. After all, who would suspect a distressing helpless chit?
Xander started to whistle.
An idea sparkled in Spike head. He felt a sneer build as his eyes bore into Xander's back.
Who said that he just had to stand there and take Xander’s crap? Spike could dish it out like the best of them. He was the best of them! No one knew how to better invest what they had than William the Bloody.
Spike looked down at the weapons he held. And unashamedly started to undress, Xander would regret his venture into Spike’s world.
*~*~*~*~*
Xander released a big happy sigh, exiting the toilet. The bless of being a man was appreciated with even the little things.
This was the third time he went into the restrooms to collect himself. He knew what he attempted tonight was really delicate and tempting a homicidal killer, but he had made a decision and had came prepared. He recalled when he first looked at himself in the mirror earlier that night.
“Buffy! Do you really have to go that far?”
“Now, now, Xander, this was your idea. Stop. Don’t touch the hair!” Xander’s hand convulsed, wondering where all the cool he had was disappearing to. It was his idea after all.
His grand confidence had first started to waver the second he had heard Spike’s clothes fall to the ground - Xander couldn’t believe that Spike didn’t catch up to how his heart was racing when he said those scathing comments. Or how Spike hadn’t felt Xander’s whole being shake when he wrapped two pale, smooth arms around him from behind, whispering in his ear ‘I’m ready.'
Spike sure did wonders with what little he had to work with. The dress was a size too small and more than accentuated that well-formed petite feminine body. Others would call how Xander looked at Spike smitten, Xander would rebut that it was nothing more than shock at how he wasn’t dead yet.
Xander had to excuse himself twice tonight to ‘go check on his little buddy’ because Spike didn’t stop shamelessly flirting with Xander and every other guy who passed by - the third visit to the toilets didn’t count because Xander really needed to pee.
Xander heaved a sigh. Spike was pulling no punches, and while Xander had counted on that, it sure messed up his reflexes good.
Standing at the other side of the club, he watched on as every man and some women did a double take at the sad blonde with the smoky eyes sitting at the bar. Xander felt something twitch in his chest.
He walked to the bar, passing a gaggle of giggling women on a table littered with an assortment of colored drinks - bachelorette party. They eyed him with interest and whispered among each other. Xander flashed a charming smile that did its job and all the women squealed. Note to self: thank Buffy later. She had meticulously gone through his closet to pick this outfit for him. He wasn’t all that sure about the large garbage bag filled with clothes she had confiscated though.
In an effort to ignore how Spike was conveniently teasing some guy with an olive now that Xander was nearby, Xander spotted a redhead at the bar. She was sitting by herself, barely masking the envy in her eyes as she stared at the giddy striking women. With straight short hair, face filled with freckles, lipstick that didn’t match her completion and a large blouse that didn't go with her long skirt Xander understood why.
Something in Xander urged him to approach the girl.
"Hi."
The girl didn't look up, eyes still on the bachelorette table.
Xander tried again. "Uhm… excuse me?"
She finally looked up, and Xander noticed that she had handsome features.
“Want to dance?” Xander pointed at a few couples swaying to the music.
The girl gaped, she opened her mouth to say something, but Xander feeling that he knew where she was headed, pulled her up. “C’mon.” He was a little taken back at how strong her grip was. Poor thing must be freaking, he thought. He made a point to pass the group of women who looked at them, shock clear on their faces.
Xander felt vindicated, especially when dancing with the girl he noticed her owed look.
He opened his mouth to reassure her.
“Ow!”
*~*~*~*~*
Sitting at the bar, bored when the whole teasing thing got old fast especially with no audience, Spike chewed on the olive as his mind went back to his troubled thoughts. The second they had walked into the bar, Xander’s attitude had slowly shifted back to his usual self, taking in every hit that Spike threw out with the bare minimum of witty comeback. It started Spike thinking.
Spike’s thoughts slowed down as he watched Xander dance with that nerdy thing. He chuckled at each wince from Xander whenever the girl stepped on his foot. Spike could clearly see why the recently transmogrified man commiserated with the clumsy chit.
Spike wondered if he should tell Xander that the reason the girl was awkward in her steps as he led her around the dance floor was because ‘she’ had went through her own changes.
When Xander limped towards him, Spike smirked. “A boy in a dress is still a boy in a dress.”
Xander flopped down on the empty seat next to Spike. “I’d hold up a mirror…
but…” the dig was halfhearted.
Spike couldn’t help but snicker around his drink, Xander’s oblivious good nature still amazed him. He caught the sneaky calculating look Xander was giving him and pretended he didn’t see it. Instead, he licked his lips, taunting the bartender into dropping a bottle onto his foot.
Xander snickered.
Spike watched him from the corner of his eyes. “So, out saving the helpless, Angel?”
Xander’s hand instinctively went to his slightly gelled hair. “Cruel, Spike.” He glared as he caught his action, mentally swearing to never let Buffy anywhere near him with hair products.
Although, he shot another look at Spike who seemed to be taking delight in tormenting every guy that came within teasing distance, it all did not go to waste.
As Spike rebuffed yet another hopeless frat boy and turned to order a refill, his eyes fell on the proud grin that Xander was trying very hard to hide.
Spike did a fully body tilt and narrowed his eyes, crossing his legs sexily.
Xander, quickly covering up, donned his patented confused look. "What?" He started shifting uncomfortably under the piercing blue gaze.
Spike groaned the mismatched pieces finally fitting together. “You tricked me."
He watched how quick Xander gave up pretending that he was indifferent. He smiled genuinely. “My plan worked better than I thought.” Xander nodded, impressed with himself.
“Your plan to pay for my scotch?” Spike tapped his fingers against the bar. “Why bring me here?”
“Anya.” Xander took a sip from his beer, ignoring the growl at the mention of her name. “I wanted to yell at her when I saw her. To ask her how she could do that to me. But, I didn’t. Know why?”
“Cause you’re a wimp?” Spike felt himself relax enough that he actually started enjoying his drink, figuring out where this was heading. Xander wasn’t planning anything devious, he was simply being his wimpy self and ‘sharing’. Spike also knew that Xander must have taken pleasure in pulling one over the evil soulless creature for once. Spike was very impressed.
He smirked.
“Hell yeah! Did you see how demony she looked? Turned me on no more, pal.” Xander grimaced. “Other than that, I had it coming. Anything I said, she would’ve thrown back the ‘leaving her at the altar’ thing. So I ignored her. But, most importantly, I stopped caring.”
“Did you now?” Spike sounded skeptic.
“Or I made myself believe I did.” Xander shrugged. “I owe that to you.”
Spike raised an eyebrow. This ought to be good.
“Your brand of life does come off real easy, you know.”
Spike gave Xander a once over. “You don’t look like a sexy lone wolf.”
“Sing a different tune, Wilma.” Xander rolled his eyes. “I’m talking about rolling with the punches, getting the crap beat out of you and still finding a way to come on top – with cool hair.”
Spike paused for a second, and then shrugged. “You’re welcome.” Maybe death by fire was too extreme.
Xander pretended he didn’t see the grateful look in Spike’s expressive eyes. He chose to attribute his ability to read him too well on the female features, nothing more.
They sat in companionable silence before Spike cursed under his breath. “There comes another hound sniffing.”
Xander followed his glare at a presumptuous looking greasy man, who was making a beeline towards Spike. With only a second before the grease rocket hit, barely enough time to make a life changing decision, Xander got up, turned, pulled up Spike next to him and leered. His back served as a wall against the salivating homosapien.
“Let’s dance, babe.”
Spike just about got over the shock of being groped by Xander Harris before he felt a laugh build in his chest. He threw his head back and let out an unwomanly guffaw.
He threw his arms around Xander’s neck, enjoying how Xander's heart rushed under his touch. Over Xander’s shoulder, Spike threw the taken aback man a pitying look, and pouted. “Alex here has me on a tight leash. It’s leather and hard.” The guy gaped.
Spike pulled back to take in Xander’s flushed face. “Don’t call yourself a player if you don’t know the game, luv,” he purred and dragged a wild-eyed Xander to the dance floor.
*~*~*~*~*
“So what do you think?”
Xander looked uncomfortably at Spike who stood in the middle of his apartment, looking at him with an unreadable expression. After all, Xander just invited him to move in after luring him over for a promised ‘nightcap’.
“Now, don’t freak. I’m not ‘keeping’ you. You’re your own man – vamp. It's that I did this to you.” He gestured wildly at Spike’s rigid body. “Actually Harmony did, but Anya tricked her because --- well, you know the story.” Xander wondered if he had blabbed this much when he was a woman or was it all him. “I feel guilty. There, I said it and it's not the hair gel talking. I want to finally sleep the night without worrying that chipped-you is clubbing it with humans who’ll gang rape you or something…”
Spike raised an eyebrow.
“Go with it --- there’s a point in the end,” Xander promised.
Spike gave him the ‘I surely doubt that’ look that of all rights and purposes should have been patented for sole use of one Rupert Giles.
Xander frowned. “Now you made me lose my train of thought. Where was I?”
Spike crossed his arms. “Gang rape.”
“Yeah, right. And we don’t want that happening.” He looked at Spike to make sure they were on the same track. Spike snorted.
“Good. So, I decided…”
Another look…
“Uh, thought, that um, until your situation is fixed…”
Spike glared.
“Sorry. Poor choice of words…” Xander racked his finger through his hair, only to have them stick in the gel. “Ugh!” He pulled his hands free. “Do you want to stay here or not?!”
Spike pulled his arms tighter under his ample chest and looked pointedly at Xander’s bedroom.
Xander blinked stupidly at his soon-to-be-house-guest before he realized what Spike was insinuating at.
“No!” Xander nearly screamed in denial. Several images did a quick flash before his eyes while his body did an uncomfortable twitch that Spike’s smirk didn’t miss. Xander blushed and glared, not happy with the teasing. “We’re gonna have some rules.”
“Uh huh.”
Xander sighed in defeat. “There.” He walked them towards a small door and opened it, showing Spike inside.
“I actually got the idea of turning it into a mini-spare room after Buffy was done with impounding most of my clothes.” Xander made a show of flopping on the made-up bed. “I can’t compare, but I can guess it’s more comfy than a crypt.”
Spike frowned. He looked around before his eyes returned once more on an expectant looking Xander. He sniffed. “It smells.”
Xander grinned unrepentantly. “Lady Buff took care of that, too.” He brandished a couple of air fresheners from under the bed and waved them.
“Pina Colada or Honeysuckle?”