Title: Nothing the Same
Rating: PG for now
Feedback: yes, please
Concrit: any and all
Disclaimer: don't own them, never will, just playing with them
Spoilers: Anything from Season 1 on.
Summary: AU from The Harvest. Xander doesn't deal well with Jesse's death and everything changes from there.
Notes: Based on the plotbunny posted here awhile back by wickedchocolate
. I took the first part of the bunny only: Xander never got over Jesse’s death. After he dusted Jesse, he was never the same. Xander isolated himself from Willow and wanted nothing to do with Buffy.
Previous parts here
Plucking an egg at random from the carton, Xander turned it over in his hands, contemplating it cynically. The way his life had been going recently only emphasized the ludicrousness of this assignment. Carting around an egg for several days was somehow supposed to teach them responsibility? If Mr. Whitmore really wanted to teach them about life and responsibility, there had to be a better way than passing out breakfast foods. Really, aside from the slime factor, if the egg broke who cared? After all, who was going to know unless you did it in public? Another egg from the refrigerator and voila! responsible parenthood status remained intact even if the original “child” wasn’t.
Still holding the egg in one hand, he walked out of the classroom considering whether he could get away with stashing it in his locker for the rest of the day. In another lifetime, he would have been joking with Willow right now about her decision to go the gay parenthood route. She and Buffy had teamed up automatically and Xander could hear them giggling as they selected their offspring. He hadn’t even bothered to try and find a partner for egg parenting. It would be just his luck to get someone who took the assignment seriously. So now, courtesy of the American education system, he was the proud single parent of a small, round child.
Hearing Buffy’s and Willow’s voices following him down the hallway, Xander was just glad that he hadn’t needed to work so hard on avoiding them over the past week. For several days, Willow had seemed to be in an unusually good mood towards him, smiling at him and talking to him casually about neutral subjects like class assignments and the weather. For several days, she hadn’t even mentioned Spike and the hurt, betrayed look had completely disappeared from her eyes. Xander had hoped that she was trying to make good on her promise to back off about his friendship with Spike but her good mood had vanished with the rumors that had swept the school about Buffy killing her mother’s boyfriend. Whatever that had been about - and since Buffy wasn’t in jail or even suspended, Xander figured it couldn’t possibly have been true - it had killed Willow’s tolerant mood but had also had the effect of drawing her attention away from Xander.
Which was good because he was getting tired of being stared at with the sad, disapproving eyes that had reappeared since then. Mostly Willow wasn’t actually saying anything about the situation but her eyes spoke volumes every time they looked at him. He knew that Willow was disappointed and hurt by his decision to stay friends with Spike but it wasn’t like he’d done it deliberately to hurt her. His friendship with Spike had nothing to do with Willow. He just wished she could see that.
A sentence pitched slightly louder than normal caught his attention. Willow was talking about her egg and her voice carried clearly to Xander as it was obviously intended to.
“We have to take it seriously, Buffy, or what’s the point? We can pretend we’re teaching our child about the Hellmouth, like about how not to associate with evil vampires and how demons are dangerous. It’ll be fun.”
“You know, I’ve had about enough of this, Willow.” Exasperated, Xander spun around and confronted her. “You promised you’d back off. Is this your definition of backing off? Because it sure as hell isn’t mine.”
“Overreact much?” Buffy stepped between them, but not before Xander saw Willow blush slightly and look a little embarrassed. “She was talking to me.”
“No, she wasn’t.”
“For god’s sake, chill out.”
“Butt out of this, Buffy. Here,” Xander impulsively tossed his egg to Willow feeling the need to make some kind of gesture, no matter how stupid. “Teach it anything you want.”
Buffy slapped the egg away from Willow, knocking it across the hall and Xander just rolled his eyes. Like Willow had needed defending from an underhanded toss of an egg.
“Great save, Slayer. That could have really hurt her.”
“Get out of here, Xander. Leave Willow alone.”
“What?” Buffy finally looked at Willow as her voice rose to a near shout.
Willow was clutching Buffy’s arm and Xander and Buffy both followed her wide-eyed stare to where Xander’s egg had landed. Instead of the usual yellow and white egg mess, the egg had left a light purple stain on the wall and the white shell fragments were mixed in with a small purple and black lump.
“What the hell is that?”
“Second the question.” All three moved towards the mess with fascinated horror.
“Whoa. I’d strongly suggest that you two crack your eggs right now and see if mine was just off somehow, because that doesn’t look like a rotten egg to me. Not in the traditional sense.”
“Agreed.” Buffy straightened up. “Go get some towels from the bathroom and let’s get this mess picked up. We’ll take it to the library and ask Giles what it is. We can check our eggs there.”
“Right.” With a last appalled look, Xander ran to the nearest boy’s bathroom and grabbed a huge wad of towels. Hurrying back, he used them to carefully sweep up the majority of the mess and the three of them hurried to the library, Xander carrying the wad of towels gingerly, Buffy and Willow watching their own eggs suspiciously.
“Yes, Buffy? There’s really no need to shout as you enter, I have quite good hearing.” The librarian emerged from his office as Xander set the remnants of his egg down on the counter.
“Something really strange just happened.” Buffy and Willow set their eggs down next to the broken one in its nest of paper towels.
“Is there some reason you all have eggs?” Mr. Giles asked, setting the book in his hand down and moving to the counter.
“Open the towels and take a look. It’s gross.”
Xander shook his head at that explanation. “We were all given eggs as an assignment. Mine broke and there’s something abnormal about it. We need to check all the eggs,” he summarized for the librarian.
Mr. Giles unwrapped the wad of paper towels and studied the purple and black mess with clinical fascination. “Hmm. I quite agree. One of you bring me some additional towels and I will get something to open the other eggs a bit more delicately than this one was. It will be easier to identify what’s inside if it’s intact, assuming the other eggs are the same.”
“Check. I’m on towel duty.” Xander left for the bathroom again and returned shortly to find that Mr. Giles already had a pile of reference books on the table and Willow was flipping through them while Buffy apparently was guarding the eggs.
Xander spread the towels out on the counter in two piles and put one egg on each. “Ready for slicing and dicing,” he called to the librarian who emerged from the book cage with a large knife and a mace.
Handing the mace to Buffy, he said: “it’s unlikely anything inside is sufficiently developed to be a threat but best to be cautious.” Willow left the books and came over to watch as Mr. Giles carefully sliced open the top of the egg, apparently trying for the shallowest cut possible.
“If this is just an egg, we’re all going to feel pretty silly,” Buffy commented. “Yeauchh. Not feeling silly.”
“Quite.” The egg contained the same purple goo that the first one had left smeared on the wall. Inside the opening a solid, purple…thing could be seen. They all watched tensely as some sort of pale, spotted tendril emerged and groped around blindly. Buffy lifted the mace threateningly but the tendril seemed to run out of energy and began pulling back inside the shell. It didn’t make it all the way back inside and collapsed limply onto the countertop.
Four pairs of eyes shifted suspiciously to the third egg and Mr. Giles performed a second surgery with the same results. Looking at the two hopefully defunct creatures and the smashed egg, Mr. Giles stepped back and pulled his glasses off. He rubbed at the bridge of his nose for a moment, then asked: “Where did you get these eggs?”
“Teen Health. Mr. Whitmore passed them out to everyone as an assignment.” Willow answered, still studying the eggs. It looked like disgust was rapidly giving way to scientific curiosity. Figures, Xander thought. Willow had always been the one who could dissect frogs without blinking. She’d always really gotten into finding out what made things tick.
“What are they?”
“I’m not sure. It will require some research to identify them. We should also question Mr. Whitmore about the origin of the eggs.”
“Yeah, there’s no way he was handing these out without knowing something was up. I mean, these can’t have come from the local supermarket.” Buffy set the mace down on the counter. “Why don’t I go get him and bring him here.”
“I’ll round up the other eggs and bring them back here,” Xander volunteered only to find himself the focus of three surprised looks. “What? There’s no way these are the only three bad eggs.”
“Well, duh, but just smash them. Don’t bother bringing them back here. Two samples should be enough for Giles to ID them. Right, Giles?” Buffy turned to the librarian for confirmation.
“Yes, I’m sure these two are sufficient.”
"Ok, how about we not get carried away here until we know what they are." Xander looked around at the three uncomprehending faces. "Look, the first one was an accident. The second one we had to kill to confirm the first one wasn't a fluke. I'm not all that happy about having already killed the third one, much less the wiping out whole rest of the batch. We don't have any idea what these things are. Yeah, they may be hostile, body-snatching aliens out to take over the world but they could also be harmless critters who wouldn't hurt a fly. Doesn't anyone else want to know what we are dealing with before we start on the genocide?"
“Like there’s a real chance that they’re just fluffy bunnies who wouldn’t hurt anyone,” Buffy scoffed.
“I know that. But I doubt they are going to take over the world in the next few hours - you saw how weak it was, they obviously aren’t ready to hatch yet. I’m just saying we should hold off on the slaughter until we know if they have to be killed.”
“It does seem unlikely that the creatures will be able to hurt anyone for some time yet. I don’t suppose there is any harm in gathering them and bringing them back here until we know exactly what it is we are dealing with.”
“I’ll handle that.”
Xander grabbed a pad of paper and started listing the names of everyone in their Teen Health class. Buffy left to get Mr. Whitmore and Willow moved to where she could read the list and added a couple of names until they both agreed that everyone in the class was accounted for.
List in hand, Xander left to track down the students, wondering what exactly he was going to tell them about his sudden need for their eggs.
Nearly an hour later, Xander walked back into the library feeling vaguely like a Hellmouthy version of the Easter Bunny. He had a plastic grocery sack filled with eggs, a list in his back pocket with checkmarks by all the names and bad news. He found Giles and Willow still sitting at the central table surrounded by piles of books.
Setting the sack of eggs down carefully on the table, he looked at the librarian. “So, what do we know?” he asked.
Mr. Giles turned an open book towards him so he could see a line drawing of a… blob. “The creature is called a Bazor and I’m afraid that the young are parasitic.”
“Ok, that doesn’t sound good.”
“No, Mr. Harris, it’s not good. Buffy is down checking the basement as the adult of the species hibernates underground.” Mr. Giles rubbed his temples tiredly. “Unfortunately, it appears that Mr. Whitmore was under the influence of one of the offspring. We were able to detach the creature, but he doesn’t remember much of what occurred in the last 24 hours, so we cannot presume that your class was the only ones who received eggs.”
Xander looked at the bag of eggs sitting on the table. “Yeah. He’s already passed them out to three other classes. So what do we do with them?”
“We kill them.” Buffy entered the library looking a lot dustier than she had an hour ago. “The momma Bazor is in the basement all right,” she reported to the librarian. “The floor is cracked and you can see it under there, it’s huge and way ugly. Not really wanting to see a lot more of it.”
“Can you get at it to kill it?” Willow spoke up for the first time.
Buffy grimaced. “It’s going to be hard, the cracks are pretty narrow. I suppose I could just poke away at it with a stick, but I don’t know if that will work.”
“It would be difficult to be sure you hit a vital spot, perhaps we can pour something on top of it…” Mr. Giles’ voice trailed off absently as he began reading in one of the volumes.
Buffy looked at the eggs. “Did you get them all?”
“All the ones from our class, yes. But there’s more out there.”
“Still got a problem with us just killing them?”
“Not really, not now that we know that they hurt people.”
“Good, ‘cause I think you’re pushing this whole ‘demons can be our friends’ thing a bit far.”
Xander’s jaw tightened but he swallowed the sharp retort that rose to his lips, not wanting to make the situation worse. They still had to work together to round up the eggs.
“Actually, Buffy,” Mr. Giles looked up from his book, “Mr. Harris had a valid point. In the heat of battle, a Slayer cannot afford to weigh the motives of her opponent, but we were not in imminent danger. It did no harm to investigate first before taking action, in these circumstances.”
“Waste of time if you ask me,” Buffy grumbled, but she said it quietly. “Like there was any chance these eggs weren’t out to hurt people.”
“In any case, when circumstances permit, the preferred course of action would always be to find out what we are dealing with first,” Mr. Giles said firmly, surprising Xander. From what he’d seen in the Watcher’s books that was a departure from the party line.
Willow had been listening silently to the conversation, her eyes moving from one speaker to the next. “But aren’t all demons bad?” she asked.
“No, in fact there are many peaceful species. It’s just that, here on the Hellmouth, the dangerous species far outnumber the others. The Hellmouth seems to attract the more violent types, such as vampires.” Willow looked like she wanted to continue on the subject and Mr. Giles lifted his hand, interrupting her before she could start. “But that is a topic for another day. The mother Bazor should be vulnerable to several caustic fluids, most of which will be available in the science labs. I suggest we obtain a fairly sizeable quantity and simply pour it over the creature. That would seem the most efficient way to kill it.”
Xander looked at the book, studiously avoiding Willow’s eyes. Although he was really hoping she had been listening to Mr. Giles, he really didn’t want to get into it right now and risk fracturing the fragile working relationship they had going. “What about the eggs?”
“Fortunately, they are linked to the parent at this stage in their development. The death of the parent will result in the death of the offspring.”
“Oh. That’s good, I guess.” Xander felt vaguely queasy at the dry explanation but had to agree that parasitic babies couldn’t be allowed to live. This was pretty much what Spike had been telling him too, that he thought too much about who and what his opponents were and that sometimes you just had to act or you would be dead. He just said it a lot more colorfully than Mr. Giles did.
“It makes things much simpler. The eggs will simply not hatch and any that have already hatched, such as the one that had taken control of Mr. Whitmore will simply die and detach from their unwitting hosts. The persons affected should have no memory of the incident and so no explanations will be necessary.”
Yep, Spike would have said that in one sentence: the eggs will die, no one will remember, end of story.
Spike walked through the cemetery only marginally keeping track of his surroundings. He was mapping out a battle campaign and the planning was not going well. Having decided to seduce Xander rather than just simply taking him, Spike had realized somewhat belatedly that he had no experience in gentle seduction. All his sexual experience was as a vampire and of little use to him in this situation. Demons tended to be extremely direct about sex. Spike again considered whether he should simply claim the boy and have his way with him. He could ensure that Xander would enjoy it but he was hesitating. Dithering around like a bloody human, more like, he thought sourly.
Spike thought back on his human existence. William had been an insecure, elitist fop, too frightened of rejection to do more than pathetically hang about, timidly adoring his love from afar. Victorian William would have been horrified at the idea of sex with another man, hell he’d barely considered the notion of sex with a woman. William had tended to think in terms of gentle embraces and closed mouthed, almost chaste, kisses as the goal of his ineffective and unsuccessful pursuit of his ladylove.
Demons were less inhibited or maybe just more honest. Most demons didn’t care about gender or species when it came to sex. Spike could, and had, fucked both sexes and a number of different species in his early years as a vampire, learning quickly that sexual pleasure came in many forms. After he and Dru were on their own, he’d come as close to monogamy as vampires generally get - only taking other partners with Drusilla’s consent and usually with her participation. With Dru, Spike had been more tender and caring of her pleasure than with any other partner he’d ever had. Sex with Dru had varied wildly from violent bouts of clawing, biting passion to gentle wooing suitable for the Victorian maiden she’d once been, as changeable as the whims that had flitted through his Dark Princess’ mind.
It was only now, looking back, that Spike clearly saw how much in control of their relationship Dru had been. He’d danced to her tunes and catered to her needs and whims and the wonder was that even now he didn’t resent it. Loving her as he had, it had seemed natural to let her set the tone of their unlives. There were times when he found himself wondering if she had been worth it, but mostly he knew that he would happily put up with it all again if he could have her back.
Xander was no mad Victorian maiden but he was an American teenager who undoubtedly had a thousand automatic defenses against homosexual thoughts, drives and urges. Remembering what had worked on Drusilla when she played at being a coy virgin, Spike began to map out his game plan. This prey needed to be lured, unsuspecting. Pouncing, no matter how satisfying in the short term, would only result in the prey slipping between his fingers, like one of Dru’s birds that could be coaxed to perch on her finger but panicked and fled at any sudden move to capture it.
Thinking of the pursuit in hunting terms, Spike began to relish the game ahead. No longer did it seem a pointless exercise in humoring human anxieties and teenage homophobia. This was a delicate stalking of an elusive quarry. And above all, vampires were hunters.
A puckish grin crossed Spike’s face as he considered tactics. Weighing the relative merits of different approaches, he let his feet carry him through the cemetery until the quiet murmur of voices pulled him back to awareness of his surroundings. He slowed his steps cautiously as he sensed the Slayer and Angelus nearby.
The two were snogging, going at it hot and heavy and oblivious not only to Spike’s approach but also to the fact that they were being observed from another direction. Shaking his head in disbelief that they would let themselves get so distracted, Spike retreated soundlessly, circling around and coming up behind the vampires that were watching the Slayer and Angelus from the top of a nearby crypt.
It din’t take long for Spike to recognize them: Lyle and Tector Gorch. Both dumb as posts, they were a pair of ignorant good ole boys but they could be fun. Lyle was telling his brother quietly that they would have to pick their time to fight the Slayer. Spike snorted quietly to himself, leaning against a tree and waiting for the two to come down from the roof of the crypt. Lyle had been vowing to kill a Slayer ever since he learned of their existence. Somehow, he never quite seemed to find the right time when a Slayer was at enough of a disadvantage for him to actually fight one.
The Slayer and Angelus finally left, holding hands and strolling through the graveyard and still nearly oblivious to their surroundings. The Gorches barely waited for them to move out of sight before vaulting down from the crypt. Spike stepped out of the shadows, moving into the open as they landed. The brothers came on guard, obviously surprised to learn that they had in turn been watched but relaxed when they saw it was another vampire.
“That you, Spike?” Tector asked after a brief pause.
Spike just nodded, lighting a cigarette and keeping a wary eye on Lyle. Tector always followed where Lyle led, if trouble was coming, it would come from Lyle.
“Well, lookie here. Spike. Haven’t seen you since… well, I don’t really remember when we saw you last.” Lyle settled his hat and looked like he was struggling to recall.
“Spain, the orphanage,” Spike filled in helpfully, not wanting to wait for Lyle to find the memory on his own. He didn’t have that kind of patience.
“That’s right. Damn, those were good times. You back with Angelus?”
“No.” His Sire was a delicate question and one Spike didn’t intend to discuss with the Gorches. “Just landed in the same town,” he explained briefly. “What brings you boys to the Hellmouth?”
“Just looking for fun, you know us,” Lyle said. “What’s up with Angelus and the Slayer? The two of them kissing like that? That just ain’t natural.”
“Angelus always did like his little perversions,” Spike shrugged dismissively as if the Slayer was just a passing fancy for his Sire. And maybe she was, he thought optimistically. “How long are you boys in town?”
“Well, Lyle here says he’s going to kill the Slayer,” Tector said proudly as if Lyle hadn’t been bragging about killing Slayers for decades.
“Let me guess - he’s just picking his time, right?” Spike had heard this tune before.
“That’s right,” Lyle confirmed. “Now you aren’t going to claim you got first dibs on her, are you Spike?”
“No, no,” Spike waved a dismissive hand. “She’s all yours. I’m more interested in what you’ve got planned for afterwards.”
Lyle and Tector exchanged grins. “Just the usual fun. This here seems like it’s a damn boring town for a Hellmouth. Maybe we should just kill everyone and burn it down. What do you say - you up for that?”
“Well, we’re going to have a problem there, boys.” Spike dropped his cigarette and his fist swung out, punching Lyle hard in the face and dropping him cleanly. Before either brother could move, Spike smashed his foot into Tector’s chest, staggering him backwards. Lyle roared in outrage, springing to his feet and rushing at Spike. Spike spun around in a swirl of black leather, avoiding Lyle’s fists and using the momentum of his spin to power a vicious kick to Lyle’s head. Lyle stumbled to his knees and Spike jumped on him, grabbing his hair with one hand and yanking his head up. He brought a stake whistling down to the unprotected chest and stopped the death blow before it did more than split the skin on Lyle’s chest. All three froze in place, Tector stopping in mid-stride as he raced to Lyle’s assistance and Lyle staring dumbly down at the stake that had so nearly dusted him.
Spike kept the stake where it was. “This is my town. If you boys had had the courtesy to check in with the Master of the Hellmouth when you got here, you would know that that was me.” He pressed a little harder with the stake when Lyle opened his mouth to say something. “And you are not burning down my town. In fact, you are not doing anything here without my permission.” He pushed harder, drawing a pained grunt and a fresh trickle of blood. “Are we clear?”
“We’re clear.” Lyle didn’t move a muscle until Spike pulled the stake out and stepped back. He got to his feet, plucking at the front of his plaid shirt, pulling it free of the blood on his chest. “Damnit, Spike. I liked this shirt.”
“Just wanted to be sure you were listening.”
“You could have just said something,” Tector complained. “You all right, Lyle?”
“Don’t fuss. Man was just making a point. So, you’re Master here, huh? What about Angelus?”
“What about him?”
“Well, how does he feel about that, you bein’ his Childe and all? How come he ain’t Master here?”
“Because he doesn’t want to be bothered with it.”
Lyle and Tector turned in surprise as Angelus’ voice answered from behind them. He approached the three and shot Lyle a dark look. “Spike might not care if you kill the Slayer but I do. I suggest the two of you leave town before you start something you can’t finish.”
Lyle scowled at Angelus. “It’s just not natural, you and the Slayer getting all snuggly together. I think we owe it to demons everywhere to put a stop to it. And I told Tector I was going to kill her. Can’t go back on my word now, can I?”
“Lyle, you’ve been saying that you’re going to kill a Slayer for nearly a century now. Somehow you never quite do it. Don’t waste my time.”
“Lyle’s just coming up with a plan, is all. You’ll see,” Tector said confidently.
Angel crossed his arms and frowned at the brothers. “What’s it going to be? Are you two leaving town or are we going to have to dust both of you right here?”
“They’ll be another Slayer in a couple of years, you can try for that one,” Spike added helpfully, ignoring Angelus’ wince at the reminder of the short life span of most Slayers. Served him right for barging in like this and not leaving Spike much choice but to back Angel’s play or risk looking like he wasn’t in control.
“Lyle?” Tector as always looked to his brother for guidance.
“Could take you both now, iffin I felt like it,” Lyle blustered. He considered the two vampires in front of him and shifted his feet. “But I don’t feel like it.” He tipped his hat. “I’ll let you boys off on account of we’re old friends, so Tector and me will just be moseying along.”
“Good,” was all Angelus said.
Completely unsurprised, Lyle never started a fight he wasn’t positive he’d win, Spike just added: “Spend the day anywhere you want, but be gone by an hour past sunset tomorrow. You boys eaten tonight?”
Tector nodded and started to describe the drunk they’d found but Spike waved him off. “Then you’re done for the night. Drink, raise hell, whatever you want, but no more killing in my town because you didn’t have the courtesy to let me know you were here.”
Ordinarily, Spike didn’t give a damn if vampires presented themselves to his court upon arrival, the whole silly introduction practice was a complete bore that he routinely delegated to anyone handy. But that was newly turned minions who just loved making a production of introducing themselves like they were someone important. Vampires that had survived for nearly a century were a different story, even idiots like these two. They had bloody well better have the manners to let the reigning Master know they were in town.
Predictably, Lyle started whining, but Spike growled, cutting him off. “You don’t like it, then your brother can carry you out of town in an ashtray. Those are the rules. What’s it going to be?”
“You were a lot more fun before, Spike.”
“Well, I don’t remember you being quite this much of an idiot either so we’ll both just have to live with our disappointment.”
Angelus and Spike stood watching the brothers move off until their grumbling died off in the distance. Glancing over at Angelus, Spike saw that he was about to leave, probably heading home to his lonely apartment now that his girl had gone to bed.
What a pair of complete saps they had both become. The two of them, Master Vampires, alone and bored because their teenaged crushes were too young to stay up late. It was embarrassing to have that in common with his Sire but maybe it was better than nothing.
“Fancy a drink?” he asked on impulse.
Angelus looked surprised but pleased. “Let’s do that.”
Teaching Xander self defense had been a brilliant idea. Talk about killing lots of bleedin’ birds with one well placed stone. His boy really did need to learn what Spike was teaching him, the exercise got Xander’s blood pumping so that Spike could almost taste it through the sweat-soaked skin, they both peeled off a couple of layers so Spike got a good view of his boy’s assets, and how else could he be rubbin’ all over the teen, slowly introducing the boy’s inexperienced flesh to the joys of male-on-male friction?
He was purportedly teaching Xander how to fall properly and how to win free when he was pinned. Xander had started the lesson laughing and concentrating of the moves Spike was demonstrating. Cool flesh against warm, Spike moved in slow motion as he demonstrated hold after hold. Bodies pressed together as he pinned Xander to the wall and the floor and Xander didn’t even seem to notice that most of the holds were more suited to a pirate ravishing a maiden than to a life and death struggle. God bless innocent teenagers.
Gradually, Xander laughed less, his breathing coming more quickly, his body becoming sensitized to Spike’s so casual touches that brushed against Xander’s groin whenever possible. Xander was on the edge of arousal, his body reacting to Spike’s without him even knowing it.
Spike had Xander’s back pushed against the wall, their bodies pressed full length against each other, as he demonstrated how the boy could still find vulnerable spots to attack that he felt it. Xander’s cock twitched and began to harden against Spike’s hip. Spike had been extremely careful to keep his own erection from coming in contact with the boy, it was too soon for that. Xander’s eyes dilated and the scent of arousal began perfuming the air. Spike inhaled deeply.
Xander jerked away from Spike, who released him instantly. He quickly turned away so the vampire couldn’t see his problem, his face red with mortification. When the hell had Xander Jr. decided to join the party?
Xander was painfully aware that his normal sex drive had pretty much disappeared recently. When he’d first noticed that he wasn’t feeling like a walking hormone anymore, it had almost been a relief. He’d had so much on his mind last spring that it had actually been awhile before he noticed he didn’t feel the need to jerk off in the shower anymore and that his body wasn’t embarrassing him with inopportunely timed arousal - usually at school. But his lack of interest in tight sweaters and mini skirts and spandex had felt like one more loss after awhile. Without Jesse around to talk to about girls and what they wanted to do with them and which ones were hottest, it seemed like somehow he’d become a monk overnight. Which was just what a formerly perpetually horny 16 year old wanted to feel like.
So why had his penis decided to return to active duty now, of all inconvenient times? Xander thought frantically, trying desperately to will his erection away. Spike would think there was something wrong with him and he was so not explaining that his plumbing was confused after having been out of order for months. Xander moved away from the vampire, pretending his leg was stiff and called back over his shoulder: “Hang on a second, got a Charley horse, I’ll just walk it out.”
“Right leg, innit?” Spike took his arm and eased him down to the floor. “Stretch your leg out, pet.”
Oh, god. What had made him think that a leg cramp was a good excuse? Spike’s strong, cool hands were massaging his calf, pushing up his pant leg and traveling between ankle and knee, and Xander Jr. was liking it way too much. “It’s ok, Spike, I’ve got it.” He reached down and tried to replace Spike’s hands with his own but Spike just gently pushed him back.
“My fault, Xander, I should have made you warm up longer. We’ll have this worked out in a minute.”
Xander groaned and lay back on the floor, bring his other leg up and trying to shield his groin from Spike as he thought about the most unsexy things he could think of. The vampire would think he was an idiot at best and lusting after him at worst if he noticed Xander’s arousal. He was going to have to have a stern talk with his penis tonight, congratulating it on its return and lecturing it about having been AWOL so long it had forgotten what its function was. Girls, he thought desperately, I like girls. Get with the program.
Oh, god, Spike was massaging his other leg. Xander shot upright. “Ok, I’m good,” he announced brightly. “That leg’s fine.”
Spike looked at him with concerned eyes. “Sorry, pet. We’ll be sure you warm up proper next time.”
Spike helped him to his feet, and Xander decided they were calling a halt to tonight’s session. Surely he could find a nice T and A show on TV to straighten his anatomy out and Spike would never have to know about this embarrassing incident.
As he walked over to pick up his jacket, he completely missed Spike’s amused smile and satisfied look.