AUTHORS: dru as Spike & Evil Willow as Xander (Go worship the goddess that is EW!)
SERIES: Chance Encounters
SEQUEL TO: Chance Encounters
Version Spike-Xander
PAIRING : Spike/Xander
RATING : NC17 (highly slashy with plenty of salty goodness!)
DISCLAIMER : We do not own these
characters. We just like putting them in lewd positions!
NOTE: We wrote this as role-play
on Yahoo! IM! We had *so* much fun! We've co-authored before but never live like this! We hope you enjoy the fruits of
our lab- okay, so it wasn't really *work*. It was more like play!
DEDICATION: This fic is for
Vicky and her husband who apparently love us for the first one!
=====================================================================
THE BABYSITTER
When I decided to come back to
Sunnydale, it was for the sole purpose of getting that bloody ring. I had no
intention of hooking up with Harm *or* of going against the slayer again.
Okay, so yes, I was planning on
killing the slayer, but I *wasn't* planning on going to LA. And I sure as Hell
never intended on coming *back*. But I did. And then I fucking found myself
chained to a fucking bathtub drinking pigs blood, of all things!
On a scale of one to ten, I'd get
a million for life fuck-ups.
But… there's a silver lining to
everything.
Xander. Or should I say, Alex.
He's pretty much called me names
and barely made eye contact since I first showed up. I doubt they even know he
was in Vegas, let alone, fucking men. And I've often wondered if it was my
business to tell, and I'm sure I would have, if I thought it would have made
any difference.
This
wasn't my idea of a fun night.
My
idea of a fun night would have been my previous plan. Me and Anya, spending
some quality time together. NOT Spike-sitting for Giles so *he* can spend some
quality time with his girlfriend.
Not to
mention the change in plans has Anya so pissed she won't speak to me. Damn it.
And things were going so well for us. Even with Spike back in town. At first I
was .... well, terrified, when he showed up again. I mean, he knows things
about me that could make the gang freak. Of course, there's always the
possibility I could convince them he was lying, but I really don't want to find
that out for sure. And surprisingly enough, he hasn't made me find that out,
either. Yet.
Not
that I think he won't. I mean, this *is* Spike we're talking about. He can't
keep quiet about my bout of temporary insanity forever. And this is why it's really
a bad idea for me to be stuck with him tonight. Because I've managed to keep
clear of him until now. But no. Giles just had to have a date and *I* was the
only one nice enough to take the chipped vampire.
Why
me?
I haven't said a word to him since we left Giles' place. I
don't plan on saying a word to him at all, if I can help it. But as I've said
before, this *is* Spike. So I'm thinking that plan's not going to work out too
well.
This is
actually the first time I've been alone with him since I came back into town,
now that I think about it.
And I'm
not planning on keeping my silence anymore, cause I need a good shag. And he
*was* a good shag.
"Dance lately?" I ask.
I trip and he grabs my arm to keep me from falling on my
face. I pull out of his grasp, and keep walking. I've got nothing witty to say,
so I'm going to stick with my plan of ignoring him.
Besides, he's just trying to bait me, scare me. It's not
working. I'm not scared. I don't wake up every morning, wondering if today's
the day he's going to try to destroy my life.
"Oh
come on, Pet." I say as I catch up to him. He tried walking faster, as if
I don't have supernatural speed. *He* should know. He benefited from all my
supernatural abilities. As I recall, he liked the oral parts. Mouth. Fangs.
Tongue.
He just keeps walking. "Maybe I should ask Anya if you
ever dance for her." I comment.
Oh
yeah. The night just keeps getting better. I stop short at the mention of Anya.
So much for pretending he can't get to me. I'm sure he's had a lot of fun in
the past, making his victims suffer before he finally killed them. I'm only
*slightly* lucky in that he can't kill me. He *can* make my life pretty
miserable though, and we both know it.
"What do you *want*, Spike?" I ask. "I won't
bother to appeal to your sense of decency by telling you I love Anya, because
that really wouldn't affect you, would it?" I know that was a low blow,
but I can't help it. He's threatening one of the most sane relationships I've
ever had. "You want money? Will that keep you quiet about Las Vegas?"
I wonder. And in this moment, I really hate myself for getting myself in this
situation in the first place.
"Never said a thing about Vegas." I say innocently.
"I was just asking if you ever dance."
I
stare at him in complete disbelief for a moment before I let out a yell of
irritation and start walking again. Like hell he wasn't talking about Vegas,
but I'm not going to stand there and argue with him. I've already let him get
to me, and I know he's just going to keep on with the subtle torture, all
night.
Giles will owe me for years for this.
I follow him, staying slightly behind, before I start
mumbling. "Course if you wanted to pay me, not like I've never been paid
for anything... And if you feel the need to give me money... wouldn't say no.
Course, I wouldn't say no to a good shag either."
Oh
hell no. He's not going to blackmail me into having sex with him. I love Anya,
and she'll believe me over him. Won't she? Yes. She will, if she loves me. And
she does... I think. Shit.
It
doesn't matter. I'm not having sex with Spike... again. I shouldn't have done
it that one time. It was just temporary insanity, that's all. I was scared and
trying to keep him from killing everyone and ... why am I lying to myself?
I wanted
him. But it was still temporary insanity. And I don't want him now. No, sir. I
don't find myself thinking about that night, sometimes, when I'm alone.
Remembering his cool body.... And it's time to stop that train of thought,
right now.
I realize I've stopped again and he's looking at me
curiously. "Not a chance in Hell," I reply. Well, at least I didn't
stutter.
"Been working on that stutter, I hear. I'm
impressed." I say as I step closer to him. "But as I recall, that's
what you said *that* night too." I close the distance between us and place
my hand on his cock. "But I *still* got in your ass. Didn't I?"
I bite
my lip to keep from groaning as he rubs me through my jeans. I step back but
trip over something. Again, he catches me. He pulls me back against him and I
am hit by the insane urge to just kiss him. WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH ME? I'm
in love with ANYA!
I push
him away. "A mistake I don't plan on repeating," I say bitterly
before I start walking again. My house is just another half a block away.
Although why I think getting *there* is going to make everything all better,
I'm not sure. It's not like he's going to stop trying to get to me when we're
inside.
I just hope my dad is either asleep or out somewhere. I
don't want to explain why the obviously older man will be spending the night in
my room. And I especially don't need Spike sharing how I spent my summer with
him, either. Dad would beat the shit out of me, without asking my side of
things. After all, I'm the screw up son and he likes any excuse to make sure I
know it.
"Didn't think it was such a mistake when you were
screaming my name, *Alex*."
We're
at the door and I know he said something, but I'm not paying attention. All I
can hear is my parents fighting. Damn it. They're upstairs, at least, so I can
get Spike inside without Dad noticing. But this was really all I needed,
tonight of all nights.
Normally I'd go upstairs and break it up, but I have to get
Spike into my room, first. Then, if they haven't stopped after a few minutes...
I'll worry about that if I need to. I turn to him. "Stay quiet.
Please," I say as I open the door and lead him inside.
"Quiet?" I ask. "Why would I do that?" I
ask a little louder.
Fuck. "Oh fine. You want to see me get beaten bloody
for bringing you home?" Stupid question, of course he does. "Make
your presence known and that's exactly what will happen." And I'm not sure
why I'm baiting the evil vampire. I guess a part of me really doesn't care.
Because if Dad does come down here, Spike will either leave or get beaten up
too. Either way, he won't be bothering me as much.
Okay.
I'm evil.
I know
this. But more important *he* knows this.
But even
then, I know my boundaries.
And I
remember well, what getting beaten by father feels like. I wouldn't wish that
on him.
'Sides,
it'd make shagging him pretty hard. And if that's what I'm aiming for... it has
to be willingly. And I recall it was willing because I compromised a little bit
and knew my boundaries.
So I just shut up and follow him downstairs as I listen to
what the argument upstairs is about. Something about coffee being spilt and her
not being good enough. Yes, I remember those arguments well.
Life
just got a little weirder. I was expecting Spike to start yelling, and find out
why I hate living here. But instead, he just shrugged and followed me down to
my room. Quietly.
I lock
my door, trying not to listen to the fighting upstairs. But it's hard, when
things are being thrown. My instinct is to help Mom. But then I hear him
running downstairs and I freeze. Please let him keep going, out the door.
And here I thought this was just a bad night. I had no
idea.
He tenses, as the footsteps get closer. "HEY!" I
say. "Why don't we watch some telly? I think 'Friends' is coming on
soon." Perhaps a diversion might be good for him.
I
didn't realize I was holding my breath, but when I hear Dad keep going out the
front door, I let out that breath. Shit. That was too close. I walk down the
stairs, and it hits me that I'm more afraid of my father than I am of Spike.
How fucked up is that?
I guess not that much, considering that Spike's never hurt
me. He's had plenty of opportunities to do that, too. I'm not sure why he
hasn't, or how long that will last. But I can hope it will be true for a little
while longer. And I guess as long as he's not giving me a reason to treat him
like an enemy, I can at least be civil.
Spike's looking at me expectantly and I realize he must
have said something. "What?" I ask, sitting on the couch.
"Telly."
I say. "We could watch." I suggest before sitting next to him on the
couch. "*Or* we could just shag now, since you know you're gonna later
anyway." I say with a laugh, hoping it'll lighten his mood.
And I'm
still trying to figure out why the hell I *care* if his mood is light or not.
Light or
heavy. His ass'll still be just as tight.
I can hardly wait.
I'm
just about to change my mind about the being civil decision, when I hear the
front door slam again. Fuck. He's back already? "You know what? Watch
television," I say softly as I hand him the remote. "That's fine.
I--"
"ALEXANDER!"
Dad yells. I run upstairs, before he can find out the door is locked. Because
that won't improve his mood any. I unlock it and walk into the hall, shutting
the door behind me.
Dad's
standing there, drunk, a bottle of beer in his hand. Why couldn't he have
passed out and crashed or something? And I know, that's a horrible thing to
wish on someone, but he deserves worse. "Yes, Sir?" I ask.
"I
heard voices. Who ya got with you?" he asks. Shit.
"It's
just the television, Sir," I reply. "I'll keep it quiet. I'm sorry if
it bothered you."
He
narrows his eyes, and for a minute I don't think he believes me, but then in
the silence we hear the television. Thank you, Spike. Dad stands there for a
moment and then says, "You'd better, Boy. I got a headache." Really?
I would've thought keeping drunk all the time would keep him from getting a
hangover. But I don't bother to voice that opinion. I'm not feeling like a
confrontation tonight.
"I
will," I say. I don't move, expecting him to take a swing at me, just for
the hell of it. He doesn't, though. To my relief, he turns and walks back up
the stairs. I wait until he's in his room, before I return to mine.
I'm so wired now, from the adrenaline rush caused by the
near-fight with Dad. I can't sit. I work off a little of the energy by
straightening up my room. Spike just sits there, watching television. At least
his attention is elsewhere at the moment. That's a good thing.
He calls
his father, Sir? I remember that as well.
I never
figured that about his father and for some reason I wish I could kill him now.
Not only because I'm starving for some human blood, but because I'm of the firm
belief that there's enough nasties out there without parents beatin' their
kids.
But
apparently, I'm one of few who feel that way.
He comes
back in and I notice his heart racing, as if he expected something else. Like a
black eye. I wonder how many he's gotten in his life? Probably too many. No kid
should...
So I just let him do what he needs to do and I sit quietly
watching telly. Damn that Rachel. She's a fuckin' hottie.
THE BONDING
Okay.
The room is clean. So I could sit down... if I wasn't worried Dad won't get
bored and come downstairs again. All right, Xan. Stop it. He's probably passed
out in bed. He's not yelling at Mom, so that's the logical conclusion. Besides,
the door is locked. So you'll have enough warning, if he does come down.
I sit down on the other end of the couch and try to watch the
show. At least Spike seems to be done annoying me, for a while. So if I just
stay quiet, maybe he'll find the television more interesting than bothering me.
A guy can hope, anyway.
"That happen a lot?" I ask. I have to know. For
some reason, I have to know.
I look
over at him, expecting to see him sneering at me. But he's not. And it occurs
to me that nobody, not Anya, Willow, Buffy, not even Jesse has ever asked me
anything about my family. Not even when they hear the evidence of the unhappy
parents, loud and clear. They just ignore it and pretend it doesn't exist. Just
like I do.
And
I've always wanted someone to at least *ask*. At least, then I'd know they were
slightly interested. So why the hell does it turn out to be Spike who asks?
And for some reason, I think I can answer without getting
mocked. It's almost like he... understands? Maybe that's wishful thinking, but
then again, maybe not. "That was nothing. Usually it's worse," I say,
looking back at the television.
I look over at him as he looks at the television.
"Worse?" I ask. "How?"
A part
of me wishes he would have just dropped it. But then again, if I really wanted
that, I would've lied when he first asked. I would've said it wasn't that bad,
and didn't happen that often. The fact is, like I said before, I've always
wished I had someone to talk to. And I don't give a fuck if that someone
happens to be a vampire. My life has never been normal, so why should I be
surprised with this turn of events?
I sigh. "I've been to the hospital eight times in the
last eighteen years, with more than one broken bone each time. My parents have
said I fell down the stairs, fell out of trees, fell off my bike... I forget
the rest of the reasons we've told the doctors. All of the broken bones were
really caused by his fist... except once… when he used a baseball bat."
It's strange, how matter-of-factly I say all this. I guess it's just a way of
life for me, so it doesn't really bother me to tell about it.
It shouldn't bother me since I'm an evil demon. But it does.
"Sorry." I say, though I don't know why. "That shouldn't
happen."
I
really wasn't expecting that response. Not from him. He's supposed to be
impressed, or something, with how good my father is at being evil. Because Dad
*is* evil. I've known that for as long as I can remember. He was my first
introduction to the meaning of the word.
So Spike's not supposed to be sorry. It just doesn't fit
with how I prefer to think about him. And I don't know how to react to sympathy
from him. But I can't just sit here and stare at him, like an idiot.
"Yeah, well, if I wasn't such a fuck-up, maybe..." Maybe. I don't
know what's after 'Maybe'. But something is. Something better, where we're a
happier family, I guess. I suppose I think that way because he's screamed it at
me, enough times while he beat me. You hear it enough and you start to believe
it.
I should
make fun of him, crack a joke or tell him he's right. He *is* a fuck-up. I
should growl and be nasty and a vampire cause that's what I do. It's what I am.
But the
other part of me, that's got all the memories of my childhood, tells me not to.
It tells me that I was only William Bradley after my father died and I went to
live with my Aunt and Uncle Bradley. That part of me reminds me of Willie
Clague, a scared child, cowering in fear.
And
right now, that part is speaking louder than the rest of me.
"It's not your fault." I say, almost in a whisper.
And I
*really* wasn't expecting that. I just left myself open to get mocked and told
how much a fuck-up I was, but he totally passed up that opportunity. Instead,
he said the exact thing I have wished someone would say about this fucked-up
life for years. And why the hell did it have to be Spike, of all people, who
knew what I needed, when none of my so-called best friends had a clue how to
react?
But I still can't quite believe him. I mean, Mom wouldn't
have married Dad if he was like this. Would she? I must have done something to
make him not like us anymore. So I say, "How do you know?" I'm not
sure why I think he has any answers. Except for the fact that he has, so far.
I turn towards him and point to my eyebrow. "See
this?" I ask and he nods. "Vampires don't scar like this." I say
before turning away. "And little kids don't ask to be shoved through glass
windows."
Oh.
Oh!
That explains a lot about why he didn't help get me beaten
up. And why he was acting so understanding. And ... I really didn't think Spike
and I would have this much in common. But it's not freaking me out as much as
it should. "I guess they don't," I say. And that was so lame. Spike
just told me something he wouldn't ever tell anyone else in the gang, and I say
something stupid in response? "I mean..." I don't know what I mean,
so I'll just shut up now.
I turn
on the couch and face him before lifting my shirt up. Don't know if he took
notice before, but I point to the inch-long 'A' carved on my stomach, near my
navel. "Vampires scar *this* way." I say before putting my shirt
down.
"No
matter how you try and deal, it never goes away. But it's *never* your
fault." I tell him, hoping it helps or something, because he must feel
pretty damn shitty about his life. I can easily see how and why he would want
to save people the way he does.
And *that* you have to admire.
I did
notice the scar on his stomach, the last time we were ... together. And I'm not
stupid, I knew it was from Angelus. I wondered what else there was to the
story, but I figured he wouldn't want to tell me. So I didn't ask.
But I
think Spike got the worse end of the deal. Because I've only had one seriously
fucked up father. And he had two, apparently. And he still has it in him to let
me know he understands. Just when you think you've figured out a guy...
"You're the first person who's ever said that." I admit softly as I
turn back to the television.
It's a
Seinfeld rerun. We've been talking for almost half an hour? Anya and I have
never had a conversation that lasted this long. Willow and I, yeah. But then
again, never about Dad. She doesn't know how to handle that topic. She's helped
me get cleaned up after a fight with him more than once, without even asking
how it happened. She doesn't know what to say, and I can't blame her. She
doesn't understand the concept of families that don't get along. And that's not
her fault.
But even though I love Wills, and Anya, I'm glad that
someone understands. Even if it *is* Spike.
He turns
back to the telly. I know that trick. And I *really* shouldn't give a damn. I
should just fuck him and get it over with. But I didn't do that the last time
and I sure as hell want what we had last time.
*And* I
understand.
"Angelus,"
I start to say as I look straight ahead, like he is. "I wasn't around yet
when he drove Dru crazy, but he sure had fun keeping her that way."
"But
with me, he found it easier to use her to get to me, rather than make me crazy.
She worshipped him, even as he beat the shit out of her and fucked her dry. But
she didn't like it too much when he'd hurt me.
"So, he made sure to chain her to the wall and make her
watch." And now, that's all I really feel like saying about *that* because
I really don't want to remember much more. Certainly not about when he gave me
my other scar.
Yeah
he got the worse end of the deal, all right. Because anyone with eyes saw what a
psychotic fuck Angelus was. So if I had to choose, I'd take Dad over him any
day. And I can't believe I'm actually feeling sympathy for Spike... but then
again, he has his good points.
I did
NOT just think that. Spike has no good points. Soul-less demon. Really good
kisser. NO. Killer of two slayers. The best sex I've ever had in my life. NO!
This is *not* helping. I said I'd be civil. Nothing more. I don't want Spike...
in my bed. Shit.
It's also not helping that I'm finding we have way too much
in common. I also know about having someone you love used against you. "I
threatened to move out a few years ago. He put mom in the hospital. Told me
he'd put her in the cemetery if I ever thought about leaving again."
"Only
time Dru and I had to get away from him was when he got his poncy soul back and
disappeared."
I turn
towards him but he keeps watching the telly. "I tried to stake him a few
times, but..." I *really* don't need to be explaining the inner workings
of vampiric relations with him. "I couldn't." Simple and to the
point. "Tried running away and he..." I cough and clear my throat
because I feel as though I'm helping. And I shouldn't want to. But... "He
dragged me in front of the Master and made her watch."
"Never tried to leave after that." I comment and
turn back towards the telly. "So... have you told your friends? 'Cause you
could have the slayer kick his ass."
"No,
I haven't," I say. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see the confused
look he's giving me. But I don't explain that I haven't told them because it
wouldn't matter. They already *know*. They have to; it's obvious. And some part
of me thinks that since they haven't said anything, then that little voice in
my head must be right. He's like this because of me. And I keep trying to figure
out what I'm doing wrong and fix it.
I want
to believe that Spike's right, that it's not my fault. But if that's true, then
there's no way to make Dad change. He's just like this and that's all there is
to it.
And I can't deal with that. It's easier to just keep
thinking it's my fault. Because then there's something I can do to make
everything better. And that's something to keep living for, the possibility we
can be one of those happy families I've always envied.
"Ya
know, we tried for thirty years total to be a happy family and it never
worked." I say and he seems surprised at the comment. I wonder why?
"For
ten years I tried to be better. I tried to do what he wanted. I tried to be
whoever it was that he wanted me to be. And ya know what? I never could be
because he was just *that* mean." I say. "Angelus was just *that*
mean and no matter what I did or didn't do, it wasn't gonna make a damn bit of
difference.
"Vampires,
Luv, for the most part, eat and run. Eat enough to survive. Most vampires don't
do much more. That's what makes Angelus more famous than others. Look at me. I
tried being the vicious killer I thought he wanted. It's how I got my nickname.
But in the end? It wasn't me. I'm just like all the others, do what I need to
do to survive and a little for fun. No end of the world schemes, no sucking the
world into Hell, no driving slayers or young nuns crazy... Angelus was just
*that* mean.
"Some people, no matter what, are just that mean. No
matter what I did for him, it would never be good enough because it wasn't
anything I was doing. He was just that mean."
No. It
can't be that hopeless. There has to be something I'm doing wrong and if I just
figure out what it is...
And why is Spike looking at me like that? I didn't say any
of that out loud, did I?
"You're breathing, Luv. That's all. You're just
breathing."
His words make me remember something Dad said to me, a few
weeks ago. 'You can't do anything right, you stupid little shit! I wish you'd
never been born, and your mother does too.'
"Well that must be what I'm doing wrong then," I say quietly
as I move to stand up. I don't want to have this conversation anymore.
He's
annoyed and it's getting too introspective for him, but I'm sure as Hell not
gonna stop now. "You don't get it, Xander." I say as I stand up.
"You're
*breathing*! There's nothin' wrong with that! You're just breathing!" He
doesn't seem to get it. "It's not your fault that you're breathing. It's
*his*. This isn't your problem, it's *his*. Just like it was Angelus'.
"Angelus was always trying to prove himself. To the
Master. To the Court. To Darla. Hell, even to the Slayer. It was *his* problem,
not mine. I was just his property."
"Spike,
if you're right, then where does that leave me?" I ask. "I'll tell
you where, exactly where I started, but with no chance of making anything
better. And I can't accept that!
"And I'm sorry that Angelus was such a bastard, but
he's a soul-less demon. My dad has a soul in there, somewhere, and I can't
believe he can't change. Because if that's true, then I'm *stuck* here until he
decides he's finally had enough of his fuck-up son." I don't tell Spike
that I've already figured out what will happen then: one of us will end up
dead. The only thing I'm not sure of is which one of us it will be.
"And what if he *did* change? Would you *want* that?
Would you ever be able to look at him and see anything but a monster? Could you
forgive him? Would you want to?"
"I..." I've never really thought about it, I
guess. Other than the dream that everything would be great and we'd all be
happy. But he's right. I know it. So, like I said before, I'm stuck here. And
there's no happy ending. I sit down again, feeling numb.
"I'm sorry to be the bearer of bad news, Pet, but the
fact remains, even if things could change *now* or for the future, you can
never change the past. And it's hard to forgive someone who used to beat you
until you bled out, even if they claim they've changed."
I can't do this anymore. I have the insane urge to cry, and
I haven't cried since Jesse died. I haven't cried about *Dad* for... at least
ten years, if not more. I stand but Spike blocks my path. "I'm
tired," I whisper. When I'm asleep, that's the only place I can hide
anymore. And I need to do that.
That's
it! I fucking spill all this shit about *Angelus*, who I never want to think
about again, to make *him* feel better and he wants to sleep? He fucking makes
me think about all the bleeding times Angelus took me dry and let Darla whip me
and wants to fucking sleep?
No way
in bleeding Hell!
I plant my feet on the floor, right in front of him.
"No."
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