Title: Nothing the Same
Rating: this chapter, soft R to be safe
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 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
Spike and Angel sat nearly silently, both drinking and studying the other patrons and not looking at each other. This was the third time they had gotten together for a drink and long, awkward silences and taboo subjects were still more frequent than conversation.
Spike figured things were actually improving slightly. His Sire had loosened up enough by now to order human blood, although Spike had to wonder if the look of sheer disbelief on the bartender’s face when Angelus had ordered pig’s blood the first time they’d had a drink together didn’t have something to do with it. That and the fact that it had taken several minutes of rummaging through the bottom of the refrigerator before the bartender had been able to produce an elderly bottle of pig’s blood. Spike had forgotten about any ideas he’d had about being diplomatic at the expression on Angelus’ face at his first taste of the blood which had obviously gone off some time back.
Angelus had taken his mockery surprisingly well, admitting that he detested pig’s blood even when it was fresh. He’d drunk the mug of human that Spike had ordered for him to replace the pig and had even agreed with Spike that he shouldn’t pay for the pig’s blood.
It wasn’t the same: a century ago, Angelus would have eviscerated any bartender that had served him bad blood and left them still alive and bleeding into upturned glasses for the next customers, but it was better than the self-flagellating prig Angelus had been for so long. Not that Spike felt like he hadn’t changed himself. Part of him was feeling ridiculously like a bureaucrat: he’d run the Gorches out of town so they wouldn’t wreck havoc, havoc he would have once delighted in causing. Despite the fact that he was Master of the Hellmouth and it had been a power thing, it still sat uneasily with his self-image that instead of raising hell, maybe even literally, with the Gorches, he’d settled for a tame drink with his Sire. He wondered idly if this was what humans meant when they said they were feeling old, the banished the thought immediately.
It was difficult though, trying to re-connect with his Sire when there was so little they could talk about. The past was pretty much off limits since Angelus didn’t enjoy reminiscing about the bad old days. They didn’t talk about Xander or the Slayer or Angel’s bizarre crusade to kill all vampires. They were demons, they weren’t quite reduced to talking about the weather and each other’s health, but it had come close on occasion.
But they persisted, both making tentative forays into conversation, usually preceded by long silences as they studied the bar hoping the other patrons would provide them with a safe topic. Spike appreciated that his Sire was making an effort, trying to bridge the divide of his neglect and indifference.
Tonight was the same, although Angelus had actually ordered human blood voluntarily without having to be talked into it. Spike hadn’t missed the way Angelus relished the taste, his eyes closing in bliss as he drained his single glass to the dregs. Spike watched him as his tongue flickered out, chasing the last drops at the bottom of the glass. He really needed to talk to Angelus about his diet - it wasn’t right for a vampire to live on animal blood.
Setting the empty glass down, Angelus caught Spike’s gaze, and the muscles in his jaw tightened at the disapproval in Spike’s eyes. Pushing the glass away from him, his Sire asked abruptly: “What happened to Drusilla?”
The shock of the sudden question was like holy water to the face and he snarled at Angelus, fury and grief roaring through him. He didn’t even realize he had sprung to his feet until Angelus’ hand clamped down over his, stopping him.
“She was my Childe too, Spike,” Angelus said quietly. “I need to know.”
Spike glared for a moment longer then his anger abruptly fled, leaving him feeling drained and weary. He sat back down slowly and sighed. “She got sick. She just…faded away into nothing.” He pulled out a cigarette and lit it with unsteady hands. Looking away from his Sire, he took several deep drags before he was able to continue. “I tried. Tried so hard to find a cure for her.” He glared at Angelus with old resentment. “Sire’s blood might have helped her but you weren’t bloody available, were you? Off cleaning the lint out of your navel and too damn busy to help your childer, now weren’t you?”
Angel’s shoulders slumped under Spike’s malevolent, yellow-eyed anger but he didn’t look away. “I’m sorry. I should have been there for both of you. I shouldn’t have abandoned you the way I did.” He didn’t offer any other explanation but what could he say that would be new: Angelus had gotten himself a soul and didn’t want his family around any more.
Eyes hard, mask firmly in place, Spike just made a scoffing noise. He leaned back against the cushions of the booth, wrapping his duster around him with both arms. “Yeah, well, we did just fine, Dru and me. Didn’t really need your brooding face around to interfere with our fun.” He flicked his cigarette away, ignoring the shriek of complaint from the hr’ashlek demon whose soft fur almost ignited as the still burning cigarette arced near its table.
Angelus’ regretful expression didn’t change. “I know. You did well by Drusilla, Childe. Better than I did.”
“Too right, mate.” Spike stood abruptly and this time Angelus didn’t stop him. “I’m bored,” he announced. “Let’s go kill something.”
“Hit a cemetery, take out a couple of fledglings?” Angelus suggested.
“That’ll do if we can’t find anything’ better.”
Xander had it figured out. Nothing to worry about. It had been an aberration. A one-time fluke. If Spike had even noticed it, then he’d been nice enough not to mention it.
It wasn’t like he’d been obsessing over the incident. Not really. Not more than any normal teenage male who’d suddenly found himself reacting to a member of the wrong sex. But a guy couldn’t help thinking about that sort of things, especially when they’d been caught unaware.
It wasn’t like anything was going on a school to occupy his attention. The only interesting thing going on was that Willow was suddenly being seen in the hallways flirting awkwardly with the short guy who dyed his hair so often Xander had always been mildly surprised it didn’t fall out. Oz something. Xander hoped it worked out for her, especially since it meant she had a lot less time for worrying about who Xander was hanging out with. Which brought him right back to his mild preoccupation with his own sexual problems. Well, not problem, that was putting it way too strong. Issue, maybe. Just a minor issue, hardly worth the time he’d put into working it out.
It all came down to the fact that he had been lonely for so long. He’d always been a pretty tactile person and Jesse and Willow had too. Willow-hugs had been a big part of his life until this past year. And Jesse, he and Xander had always been touching - wrestling, goofing off, one-on-one basketball and just friendly arms around each other’s shoulders. Maybe it was the memory of that last desperate hug - Jesse clinging to him when they found him in the tunnels - that had thrown his system out of wack. He’d dreamed of that hug so many times - nightmares in which Jesse’s familiar hug morphed into a cold, imprisoning grip holding him motionless as Jesse’s fangs neared his throat - that it was surprising he wasn’t afraid of touch entirely.
Since losing both Jesse and Willow, Xander hadn’t had anyone in his life that he could touch or that would touch him until he’d become friends with Spike. Going from lots of physical contact to none at all practically overnight, it was no wonder he was starved for touch of any kind. Since they’d become friends, Spike had touched Xander a lot, just casual, friendly, incidental touches which Xander had soaked up like desert soil offered water. His body had simply gotten its signals crossed because it felt so good to be touched again. Nothing to worry about at all.
Except that it was happening again.
Having worked it all out in his head, Xander hadn’t expected there to be any more problems. A good, long session in the shower with visions of bikini clad beauties to inspire him and he’d been good to go. It had been great to have the equipment reporting for active duty again; just one more sign that his life was slowly getting back to normal. Or as normal as it was ever likely to be again, with everything he now knew about living on a Hellmouth.
He and Spike had gone back to the out of town bar with the pool tables and Spike had offered to give him a few more pointers to help improve his game from what Spike described as “barely adequate”.
Xander had taken him up on it, remembering how badly Spike had wiped the floor with him the last time they played pool. Despite his mock grumbling, he didn’t really mind that Spike was a lot better than him at a lot of things. As he pointed out to the vampire, if he’d had a hundred years to practice, he would expect to be pretty good at stuff too, probably a lot better at them than Spike who clearly had been slacking off if this was as good as he’d gotten after a century of practice.
It was an intriguing thought that Xander couldn’t help pondering sometimes: what would he do with immortality? Not that he wanted to be a vampire, but Xander had thought about it more than once. Would he go the Bill Murray Groundhog Day route and spend all his time learning how to do things really well - become super smart and a pool shark and learn to play a bunch of different instruments and speak 14 languages, or would he just schlep around enjoying himself? He could see why Spike got bored so easily - the guy had done everything so it must be really hard for him to find something new to keep him busy.
Spike had talked angles and strategies and then had begun working on mechanics, demonstrating how to line up shots, scorning the use of a bridge as something a true pool player never had to resort to.
He worked on Xander’s stance, nudging his legs into the best position to get the maximum power and control for his shots. He patiently adjusted the positioning of Xander’s arms, correcting his grip and showing him how best to sight along the cue. As he demonstrated, his hands would settle on Xander’s hips, shifting them into different positions and lingering as Xander took the shot to ensure Xander didn’t move out of what Spike felt was the correct position. He leaned against Xander as he was bent over the table, sighting along the cue with him and reaching around Xander to adjust the angle of the shot slightly.
Xander’s body began to react to the closeness and the constant touching. His cock twitched, filling gradually, until Xander was having to hide his erection, nervously chattering in an attempt to distract Spike so he wouldn’t notice what was happening. His nervous fidgeting just made matters worse, as Spike would rest his hands on Xander, steadying him and telling him he needed to relax into the shot, then his hand slid along Xander’s stomach as he pulled Xander further from the table, telling him he was standing too close. Which Xander already knew, he had been attempt to use the table to hide his erection. It was all Xander could do not to jerk away from Spike’s touch and he knew his face was red. He took a gulp of his second beer, hoping the drink would cool him down, and stop his embarrassing reaction to Spike’s touch.
Spike had a habit of running his hands over his cue, rubbing the wood with almost sensual grace, as he pondered his shots. Xander found himself mesmerized by the slide of Spike’s hand along the length of the cue. Something about the gesture was decidedly sexual, as was the way Spike’s curled tongue peeked out from between his lips whenever he prepared to make his shot.
It was only when Xander had reached the point of wondering whether he needed to take a quick bathroom break to ease his discomfort that something occurred to him. He had been wondering, rather wildly, when exactly Spike’s every movement had become so erotically charged, when the vampire’s entire body had begun to scream of sex. He’d been worrying that it was his perceptions that had changed and wondering how it had happened, when he stopped freaking long enough to actually think about the situation.
Replaying the events of the past hour, Xander finally was able to think about what was happening rather than just letting his body have the wheel. As soon as he did, it occurred to him that there had been a lot of unnecessary touching tonight. In fact, he was pretty damn sure he’d seen some of Spike’s moves in the romantic comedies Willow loved so much and had forced him and Jesse to watch. If he hadn’t been so freaked out by his body reacting to a male, he would have recognized what Spike was doing a whole lot sooner.
Suddenly very suspicious, Xander turned around quickly ignoring the fact that facing Spike would reveal the erection he had been trying to hide. Spike looked the picture of innocent helpfulness but Xander could see the laughter hiding in his eyes. Furious, he smacked the vampire hard on the shoulder. “You bastard. You’ve been doing this on purpose,” he accused.
“Well, yeah.” Spike answered unrepentantly. “Took you long enough to notice.”
Xander threw his cue down on the table. “Fine, make fun of the dumb kid whose too stupid to know he’s being played with.” He tried to leave but Spike blocked him, all laughter gone from his suddenly serious eyes. Xander threw a punch, aiming for Spike’s stomach but Spike easily blocked it, using his vampiric speed to snatch the moving arm and twist it behind Xander. He snagged Xander’s other wrist and pinned that one two, holding Xander immobile against the pool table. Xander struggled briefly, but he knew how strong Spike was and he stopped almost immediately.
Spike eased his grip as soon as Xander quit struggling and spoke with quiet sincerity, all mockery gone. “Not making fun of you,” he said. “Didn’t mean it that way.”
Xander jerked his arms free and crossed them over his chest, his face still tight with anger and resentment. “How did you mean it then? ‘Cause it sure seems to me like you were jerking me around for laughs.”
“Pet…” Xander flinched back slightly at the familiar nickname his face darkening even further and Spike started over. “Xander…” Unable to find the words, he settled for showing the boy what he meant. Reaching out, ignoring Xander’s attempts to push him away, he cupped both hands under the curves of Xander’s ass and pulled his body closer until their groins were pressed firmly against each other. Xander gasped as he felt Spike’s erection riding against his own and leaned his upper body away from the vampire, instinctively trying to get some distance between them.
“Spike?” Xander’s voice was suddenly uncertain, his eyes wide with shock. He clutched the edge of the pool table to steady himself. “What are you doing?”
“Enjoying myself, luv. How ‘bout you?” Spike rocked their hips together and Xander gasped, his face reddening, and Spike almost purred as the scent of arousal got deeper and richer.
“I’m not gay.” Xander blurted, then inhaled sharply as Spike undulated against him, their erections gliding against each other.
Spike just lifted an eyebrow. “’m not either,” he said calmly, thoroughly enjoying the sensations he was causing and seeing the arousal flare in the boy’s eyes.
Xander bit his lip and for a moment, he relaxed into the movement, his hips tentatively beginning to move with Spike’s. It only lasted a moment before he stiffened again and tried to shift away. His mouth worked soundlessly for a moment, then he managed to say weakly: “Then what’s this all about?”
“Vampire, pet. Demons don’t think in human terms like gay and straight.”
“You want to have sex with me?” Xander’s voice rose incredulously.
“Have for some time.”
“Spike, I’m sorry, but I do think like that. And I’m not gay.” Xander looked embarrassed and uncomfortable but not completely freaked which Spike chose to take as a hopeful sign.
Still keeping their hips pulled together, Spike leaned forward, his eyes intent on Xander’s. “It’s just friction, luv.” His voice was pure sex and Xander shivered, staring wide-eyed at the vampire even as his upper body retreated backwards as Spike moved closer. Spike kept their groins riding together, undulating his hips in a teasing rhythm that kept them both on edge. He continued in a throaty purr: “Just flesh sliding against flesh. Just two bodies bringing each other pleasure. Just a tongue teasing at your nipples and gliding down your body to your cock. Just a mouth, swallowing you whole and sucking hard. Just a hand closing around you and pumping.”
Spike kept up his movements, sliding his erection against the boy’s the entire time he was speaking and Xander was breathing hard, his eyes dilated, no longer making any attempt to get free. Spike leaned even further into him , until Xander’s elbows on the pool table were the only thing keeping him from falling over completely. His legs had parted as he leaned further backwards and Spike was between them now, their groins still fused, as Spike whispered his last words against Xander’s lips. “Just lips, moving against yours.”
Spike kissed him, his lips gently coaxing, asking not taking. Xander groaned and his mouth opened blindly under Spike’s. Spike traced his tongue over the parted lips, dipping inside, reveling in finally tasting his boy. Xander tasted of beer and onion and stale breath and it was bloody marvelous.
Xander was kissing him back now, mouth moving tentatively against Spike’s, one hand coming up hesitantly and hovering as if Xander wasn’t sure if he wanted to pull Spike closer or push him away.
Spike gathered his will and forced himself to stop, his lips lingering as he slowly ended the kiss and moved back, releasing his hold on the boy’s ass and helping Xander up until he was fully upright again. He lifted a hand to the boy’s face and cupped his cheek, his thumb running over Xander’s lips as Xander simply stared back at him, his eyes dazed.
“Your body’s got no problem with it, Xander. Only real question is: will you let yourself want me as much as I want you?”
Xander just continued to gape at him wordlessly and Spike realized the whole bar was avidly watching them. “Come on, pet. Let’s get you home,” he said and steered Xander out of the bar with a hand on his lower back, pleased that Xander didn’t move away from his touch.
Driving his boy home in silence, Spike was torn. Part of him was screaming to take the boy to the factory, tie him to the bed and just take what he wanted. And while Spike knew very well that he might jerk off to that fantasy later tonight, he was struggling against every possessive instinct he had to not do that. Part of him was very afraid that if he let the boy out of the car, he wouldn’t ever see him again, that he’d pushed too far, too fast and Xander would retreat to the familiar safety of humans and heterosexuality.
Spike found himself in the unusual position of being completely unable to come up with anything to say. Pulling up to the boy’s house, he switched off the engine and stared out through the windshield, his hands clenched on the steering wheel to stop himself from simply grabbing the boy and keeping him in the car. Finally, realizing that Xander hadn’t moved, he looked over and found the boy watching him with worried, dark eyes.
“Spike? If…if I decide I don’t want to…you know,” he made a vague gesture, “Will we still be friends?” The hesitant tone carried a world of loneliness in it.
Spike almost sagged with relief at the question but managed to hold himself together enough not to. “’Course, pet. What kind of question is that?” The possessive instincts that he had firmly squashed earlier railed internally, accusing him of being soft, of having become a useless prat, but Spike didn’t care. His boy wasn’t going to run from him and that was all that mattered right now.
The worry faded from Xander’s eyes and he gave Spike a lopsided smile. “See you soon?” he said.
“Yeah, luv.” Spike actually found himself frantically trying to come up with a suggestion for a neutral activity, something that wouldn’t push the boy. “Maybe a movie tomorrow night?” he suggested.
“Great! Meet you here?” Xander suddenly blushed as if he realized how much like a date this was sounding.
So much for neutral activities. “Good enough. No sci-fi crap, now.”
Xander laughed as he got out of the car, leaning back in to say provokingly: “Star Trek revival.”
He laughed again at Spike’s “Bloody hell!” and slammed the door closed.
Spike took off before Xander could see the delighted smile on his own face. No matter how much of a complete girl it made him, he was absurdly grateful that Xander wasn’t freaking and running from him.
It was because he was a demon and he wouldn’t react well to his prey running, he told himself. If Xander ran, he’d chase the boy and end up forcing him. And that would mean he’d lost the hunt. That was why he was so relieved. Pity he couldn’t come close to believing that himself.
If the boy decided he wanted to be just friends, Spike didn’t know what he’d do. Recalling the rich scent of arousal that had overwhelmed the competing odors in the bar, Spike grinned. Not much chance of that, he thought smugly. Boy was probably jerking off now, thinking of Spike. Teenage hormones would do the rest.