shadowscast

Sorry this update took so long in coming; life got busy for a while, and the last chapter was more difficult to write than I expected!

I started this thing back in November, with what was supposed to be a little plotless piece of h/c fluff (ha!) that I wrote when I was home sick from work one day. That story implied a bunch of history between Spike and Xander that I'd thought out only in the very fuzziest of ways. Then I decided to try to fill in the gap—to get them from where they were at the end of the series to where they were in "Human Frailty." It took me five months. Those were five pretty difficult months in my real life, and seriously, working on this story was one of the things that kept me sane. So at this point I want to say a gigantic THANK YOU! to everyone who ever commented on this thing and encouraged me to keep on going. I honestly couldn't have done it without you.

For this last chapter in particular, I'd like to thank

estephia for helping me with the local details, and for trying to keep me within the realm of physical possibility.

And now, without further ado, the standard intro:

This is part of my Fragments series. It's a sequel to "Late Night Porn Store Blues," which is in turn a prequel to "Human Frailty."

Rating: 18+ for language and sexual content

Warnings: Spoilers for all of BtVS and AtS.

Previously in the Fragments 'verse: In "Late Night Porn Store Blues," Giles sent Xander from Rome to LA after hearing rumors of an undetected Slayer there. Xander found the girl, but it turned out to be Illyria, erstwhile god-king and currently roommate of Spike. Xander found Spike working in a porn store and suffering from a migraine, but it wasn't until Angel intervened that Xander realized Spike was now human. Spike was wounded superficially in a fight and also took an overdose of painkillers, so Xander took him to a hospital.

The next day in "How the Light Gets In," Giles asked Xander to recruit Spike for the new Council. Xander went and tried, and in the course of his interaction with Spike he found out that Cordelia was dead. Xander, in turn, informed Spike of Anya's death. The two of them got drunk and mourned together, and there may have been some drunken cuddles but they didn't talk about that in the morning. After sleeping the sleep of the drunk on Spike's couch, Xander had a morning cigarette in the kitchen and unfortunately triggered an apparent asthma attack in Spike. Note to Xander: don't smoke around Spike.

Meanwhile, Xander tried to recruit Illyria for the Council but it didn't seem to work. Then Xander decided to solve some of Spike's problems by getting him fake I.D. Something Giles said on the phone made Xander start to worry that Spike was suicidal, so he confronted him about it. They had dinner together, and Spike managed to convince Xander that he was too afraid of hell to kill himself.

The next day, they went to a gay bar together to buy a CD for Andrew (who is, by the way, gay). At first Spike danced with a stranger while Xander watched and Angel lurked outside and worried about Spike being up past his bedtime, but then Spike got laid in the bathroom and Angel and Xander had a nice conversation and finally Xander got to dance with Spike, and kiss him.

The next day Giles called up with a crisis: he needed Spike to translate an Ancient Greek text so they could stop someone from turning into stone. So Xander pulled Spike out of church, they got printouts of the text, and Spike slightly crashed Xander's rental car while driving to the UCLA library for a dictionary. Spike spent the day translating, and Xander spent the day dealing with crashed-car paperwork and resenting Spike. Then Spike's phone went dead so Xander had to go visit him in person to find out how the translating was going. He discovered that Spike wasn't in good shape; he was getting sick with a cold, and also hadn't eaten for a couple days. Xander went to get food. He came back with KFC, and he shared its greasy goodness with Spike while they chatted a bit. Then Xander slept in Spike's bed while Spike kept working. All that effort finally paid off; Spike found the right page and called Giles.

The following night, Xander showed up at the porn store during Spike's shift with subs to share. He hung around while Spike worked, and finally kissed him. Spike's reaction was unthrilled, and Xander worried he'd made a mistake. They talked in the back room for a while without mentioning the kiss, and Xander seemed to make some progress in convincing Spike to come to Rome. Then Angel came by and had an argument with Spike. He told Xander he was worried because Spike was sick; Xander told him to lay off, but then invited him to work for the Council. Finally Spike left Xander alone in the back room with a bottle of Wild Turkey and a bondage magazine. Xander drank the bourbon and read the magazine, and Spike had to drive him back to his hotel.

At the hotel, Xander drunkenly tried to come on to Spike, but Spike took advantage of Xander's inebriation in a different way: he asked him what his nightmares were about. Xander somehow found the courage to tell him about his terrible experience in the Democratic Republic of Congo and the Slayer he'd let die. Xander then had a cathartic emotional breakdown, and afterwards they talked more calmly, Spike advised telling Giles, and Illyria called to see where Spike was.

Spike stayed the night with Xander at the hotel. In the morning Spike was noticeably sicker than before. Xander left him to sleep in, then came back just in time to help him manage an asthma attack. After a phone call to Illyria, Spike agreed to go to the hospital. He was admitted after passing out in the emergency room. When Illyria and Xander were finally allowed to visit his room, they learned he had pneumonia. Xander suggested that Spike's health problems might stem from something going wrong when he turned human; Spike admitted the possibility and agreed to go to Rome and work for the Council in hopes that their doctors might be able to help him. Also, Xander and Illyria bought Spike a teddy bear.

Upon returning to the hotel, Xander found that Spike's new I.D. had been delivered. There were also several messages from Giles. He called Giles and found out that there was a crisis in South Africa; vampires had taken over a gold mine, and Xander was the only one who knew the local Slayer. Xander didn't want to leave LA while Spike was sick, but Giles convinced him that Willow (who's pregnant!) and Kennedy could come take care of Spike. So Xander went to the hospital one last time to tell Spike he was leaving; Angel was there too. Spike and Xander promised to meet each other in Rome.

Previous parts can be found here.

Chapter 16

Xander was dreaming about vampires when the door buzzer rang just after noon. He woke up to the taste of stale beer and cigarettes, and the perky chatter of the satellite station that had been showing the Red Sox versus the Yankees at two a.m.—now it was an infomercial for some kind of exercise equipment that looked vaguely like a comic book villain. He stumbled to the window, nearly tripping over his jeans and shoes. He hoped it was Andrew, and not Giles or one of the girls; if it was Andrew he wouldn't have to get dressed. He stuck his head out and squinted down at the street below. "Hello?"

It wasn't Andrew, Giles or one of the girls. He saw bleached white hair, a black leather jacket—and then Spike tilted his head up, shielding his eyes against the sun, and shouted "Oi! Harris! You gonna let me in or not!?"

***

He just had time to shut off the TV and pull on yesterday's jeans while Spike was coming up the stairs. Then there was a sharp knock on the door and he opened it, and faced Spike for the first time since he'd left him in the hospital in June.

The first things Xander noticed were the differences. For starters, Spike wore glasses. The stark black rectangular frames managed to look vaguely punk, but in an intellectual way. He wore a black leather motorcycle jacket over a red T-shirt and black jeans. Overall, he looked a hell of a lot better than he had in LA.

"Hi," Xander managed to say. "I thought you were still in England."

"They let me go a couple days ago," Spike said with a half shrug. "How's your arm?"

"Pretty good," Xander said, flexing his hand automatically, just a little startled by the question. "Got the cast off last week. How did you—"

"Rupert mentioned it when he called on me a few weeks back." Spike finally stepped into the apartment, giving it a cursory glance before he turned back to Xander. "So, would you be up for a road trip?"

***

Twenty minutes later, his hair still wet from his shower, Xander was eyeing Spike's bike nervously. "It's a 1998 model, near perfect condition," Spike explained, patting the gas tank almost reverently.

Xander pulled on the helmet and leather gloves Spike handed him. They were black, to match the bike. "You haven't told me yet where exactly we're going."

"Germany," Spike said, meanwhile reaching under Xander's chin to make sure the strap was done up right.

The brush of Spike's knuckles against the skin of his neck made Xander's pulse race, made him think of all the things they hadn't said to each other yet, all the questions left between them in June in LA. What are we to each other? But all he asked was, "What part of Germany?"

Spike pulled on his own helmet, and flipped up the visor to grin at Xander. "Berlin. You did pack a toothbrush, hey?"

***

The bike growled and purred between Xander's knees, a living thing. As they rounded the first corner he knew he was going to fall off, and his arms locked desperately around Spike's waist.

"Lean into it!" Spike shouted over the engine noise. Yeah, like that helped. Xander's right foot slipped off the passenger peg for a second and the adrenaline rush left his blood roaring in his ears even louder than the Roman traffic. "Into the bloody turn!" Spike repeated, his voice maybe cut off a bit by Xander's death grip on his abdomen.

At the next turn, he got it. It was like dancing; he just had to follow Spike's movements. He dared to relax his grip a bit, so his hands were resting on Spike's waist instead of clutching it frantically. By the time Spike had them out of Rome's traffic-choked streets and onto the traffic-choked highway, he was starting to enjoy it. It was like dancing—two bodies becoming one. Like dancing and...other things you could do with one other person. Other things he still hoped he might get to do with Spike sometime soon.

***

The first time they stopped to eat, just inside Austria, they talked about where they were going.

"Rupert's not as good with that locator spell as Red is," Spike said, "but he thinks there's a Slayer in Berlin—maybe a new one."

A new Slayer? That would be important. So far all the Slayers they'd made contact with had gained their powers at the moment of Willow's spell. Andrew had even voiced the worrying theory that with the line of succession broken, no more new Slayers would ever be called.

"How are we going to find her once we get to Berlin?"

"Su Li's back in Rome, having a rest. I've borrowed her compass."

"Okay, that works." Willow had made five of the magical devices back when they first started rebuilding the Watchers' Council and searching the world for Slayers. It had taken her a full week. They looked like ordinary compasses—they were, in fact, cheap compasses bought from the travel shop near the central train station in Rome—but within a ten mile radius of any Slayer, the needle would point directly at her.

Xander had lost his in the Congo.

When they finished eating, Spike went to the counter to pay with his new Council credit card, and Xander went outside. It was windy out, so he went around a corner of the restaurant to a more sheltered side before lighting up a cigarette.

Spike appeared half a minute later. "Where are you off to, Har—oh."

They exchanged an awkward look for a moment, Xander holding his breath instinctively because he didn't want to blow smoke Spike's way.

"I'll get the bike ready," Spike said abruptly, and stalked away.

Xander blew out the breath he'd been holding, closed his eye, and let his head knock back against the wall behind him. Shit. It was such a stupid thing to be all awkward about, such a fucking stupid thing to come between them. Especially when you considered that for most of the time they'd known each other, it'd been Spike who smoked and Xander who said things like 'if you stink up my apartment again while I'm at work I swear to God I'll stake you.'

But that was the problem, really. Spike had smoked for a hundred years or so, and probably loved every minute of it. Not like he'd had to worry about lung cancer or cigarette taxes or anything. Now he couldn't smoke, and Xander bet that his own smoke breaks reminded Spike of the long list of things that got screwed up when he turned human.

He took another long drag. He shouldn't smoke, anyway. The girls were always hassling him about it. Dawn kept asking 'What kind of idiot starts smoking past the age of thirteen?' But when a soldier named Philippe had handed him a cigarette in the back of the truck as they were driving Mathilde's body back to Kinshasa, the prospect of getting emphysema thirty years down the road hadn't seemed like a really important concern.

He'd tried to quit when he got back to Rome from LA. That had lasted a day.

He heard Spike rev the engine. "I'm coming!" he shouted, grinding the stub of the cigarette under his heel.

***

The second time they stopped to eat, just after midnight somewhere in Germany, they talked about where they had been.

"When did you get the glasses?"

"Soon as I got to Rome. Rupert figured out I needed them when I didn't recognize him in the airport."

"Oh. So back in LA, you were—"

"Blind as the proverbial bat, yeah." Spike shrugged and gave a rueful half-grin. "I thought it was just the change from vamp senses to human that made everything seem all blurry. Suppose I should've clued in when I couldn't see the bloody telly from the bloody couch."

Their food came—some kind of meat in batter thing for Spike, and roast chicken with fries for Xander. Weirdly, the waitress gave him mayo along with the fries. Spike discreetly shook a couple pills out of a prescription bottle and popped them in his mouth, chasing them with a gulp of Coke.

"I tried to call you in England," Xander said suddenly. It had been bothering him ever since Spike showed up that afternoon. "I left four messages."

Spike shrugged. "Wasn't in a mood to talk." He stuffed another bite in his mouth.

"Down in the gold mine my phone didn't work. When I got out, I got all Willow's emails at once, about you almost dying and everything." Xander saw Spike's expression closing down—he didn't want to talk about this. Xander pushed ahead anyway. "I called LA as soon as I could, but the only one left at your place was Kennedy. She told me you were better, I'd just missed you, you'd gone to Rome. But then when I finally got to Rome, you'd already gone to England."

"Wasn't my choice," Spike pointed out, which Xander already knew. "Rupert thought this doctor he knew in London would have a better shot at figuring me out than those youngsters who patch up your broken Slayers in Rome."

"So, did she?"

"Did she what?"

"Figure out what was wrong with you."

Spike rolled his eyes. "Yeah, all right? It's sorted now. Just gotta take some pills."

"Hey, that's great."

"Yeah. So what about you? Did you talk to Rupert about how you let that Slayer get killed in the Congo?"

Xander winced. "Thank you, Spike, for your sensitivity. And yes, I did."

"And?"

"He's making me see a combat psychologist." Xander realized that he was about as eager to talk about this as Spike was to talk about his health. So, okay, time for a conversational truce. "Hey, you haven't told me how Willow's doing!"

Spike grinned. "She looks about the same, only with bigger breasts."

***

Back on the road. It was past midnight, but Spike still thought they could make it to Berlin. The road was wide and straight, and the nighttime traffic was thin.

They followed a silver BMW in the left-hand lane for a while, cruising along at an easy 130 kilometers per hour. The loose sleeves of Xander's battered leather jacket snapped incessantly in the wind, just audible over the healthy roar of the engine. Xander had to keep his head ducked down behind Spike's or that same wind would threaten to tear him right off the bike. His arms were wrapped around Spike's waist, and he could feel the steady rise and fall of his breathing.

Maybe fifteen minutes north of the restaurant, Spike decided the BMW was going too slow. He pulled out to the right and accelerated past it. Xander held on tighter against the G-force...which wasn't letting up. The BMW had vanished from the rearview mirrors, but Spike was urging the bike still faster. They were gaining fast on a semi in their lane, and Spike darted to the left again. They zipped past the semi and then slid over in front of it to get past a red Ferrari that was in the fast lane.

"Maybe we should slow down!" Xander shouted, but Spike gave no sign of hearing him. A nervous peek over Spike's shoulder at the speedometer showed the needle holding steady at 180.

He's insane, Xander realized suddenly. We're going to die. We're going to be nothing but a red smear on the autobahn. There won't be enough left of us to send home in a bucket.

And then it hit him. Two months ago he'd been fighting a vampire apocalypse two miles under South Africa. Five months ago he'd been chasing a rogue slayer and her heavily-armed entourage through an actual war zone. A year and a half ago, it was ten thousand uber-vamps in Sunnydale High. God, he hadn't been safe since he was fifteen years old—and even then, he'd only thought he was.

We should have died a thousand times over. Hell, Spike did die.

The helmet muffled his giggles, but Spike must've felt the shaking; he tensed up, started to ease off the throttle. Xander patted Spike's thigh, and though he was pretty sure Spike couldn't hear him, yelled "It's okay! I just realized we're fucking immortal!"

Spike gave a slight nod, and the engine roared. Xander barely managed to resist flinging his arms out and making airplane noises. The road became one long blur—they weren't driving, they were flying.

Of course they were going to die. But not tonight.

***

When they finally stopped for gas, Xander felt like he was still flying even when he got off the bike. At the edges of his vision, the whole world still seemed to be rushing by. The ground under his feet seemed to be vibrating with the cadence of the bike.

It had been a long time since their last rest stop. The toilet was one of those 'ask for the key at the desk' deals. Spike took his turn first, then Xander. Xander noticed that his hands were shaking as he undid his fly.

When he opened the door again, Spike was right there in his face.

"You've been behind me all day, I want to fucking look at you," Spike said in a low, growly voice, pushing Xander back into the washroom and letting the door click behind them.

"We had face time over supper," Xander pointed out, letting Spike back him into the tile wall.

"Not enough. Couldn't do this at the restaurant." He planted his hands on the wall on either side of Xander's shoulders, and kissed him.

"Uhummm," Xander murmured in agreement and encouragement. He hadn't seen this coming, but he was sure as hell ready for it after spending the whole day with his arms wrapped around Spike. Now he slid his hands under Spike's jacket and T-shirt at the small of his back; his skin was hot, smooth, sticky with sweat. He pulled Spike tighter against him, and Spike made a little sound that was almost a moan and attacked his mouth with more ferocious kisses.

When Xander felt Spike's hand slide down between them and cup his crotch, he turned his head to escape Spike's lips long enough to say, "Shit, Spike, not here. The gas station guy's going to wonder what's taking us so long."

Spike grinned, and nipped playfully at Xander's neck. "Don't worry, I told him you were constipated. Told him not to expect you out for half an hour."

"You did not! You don't know that much German."

Spike shrugged it off. "It's the middle of the bloody night. The bloke's sitting behind the counter reading a magazine about the sodding X-files. He doesn't care how long we take."

Xander wasn't so sure, but then Spike kissed him again and squeezed his balls gently and Xander decided he didn't care what the gas station guy thought.

Worst case scenario, Giles'll bail us out of jail.

That was his last fully coherent thought for a while.

"Want to feel you in me," Spike was whispering in his ear. "Want you to fill me up." A zipper sound accompanied his words; he'd opened Xander's fly.

Xander shook his head, even as he closed his eye for a second to sink into the shivery, delicious feeling of Spike easing his dick out of its confinement. "I didn't bring—I don't have—"

"I did. I do." Grinning, Spike produced from his pocket a box of condoms and a very small bottle of lube.

Xander laughed. "You were planning this!"

"Thought we'd find a hotel, talk first." Spike kissed Xander again. "But I got impatient."

"You, impatient?"

Soon Spike's jeans were down around his knees and his hands were braced on the edge of the sink. Xander was behind him, teasing him with one slicked-up finger. He was a little nervous, actually; that time they went to the gay bar he'd tried to make Spike think he was all experienced now, but actually this was exactly the fourth time Xander had had sex with a guy—and only the third time he'd topped. "Feel okay?" he asked, trying to make the question sound sexy instead of anxious.

"Fantastic, pet. Now go ahead and fuck me."

Xander watched Spike's face in the mirror as he entered him. Spike's eyes squeezed shut behind his glasses and his teeth clenched, and on the edge of the sink his fingernails scraped the porcelain. Xander hesitated, afraid he was hurting him.

"Don't stop, pet. Bloody hell, don't stop."

Xander's body was happy to not stop. Sweet Jesus, it was happy.

His hands were on Spike's hips, helping his balance, but now he reached around with his right hand to touch Spike's dick. Spike was wearing a condom, too—"don't wanna make a mess," he'd murmured at some point in the middle of the kissing and touching and getting ready—so he was inhumanly smooth against the palm of Xander's hand. Xander matched the movement of his hand to the rhythm of his hips and Spike rewarded him with a happy-sounding groan. His eyes opened slightly, glittering feral slits gazing at Xander in the mirror.

Spike came before Xander did. His head arched back and his knuckles went white and he moaned through clenched teeth, and Xander thought he was beautiful.

He paused, after, wondering if he should stop now.

"That was fan-fucking-tastic, pet," Spike murmured. "But you're not done, are you?"

That was all the permission Xander needed. Now Spike was watching him in the mirror with wide-open eyes and a lazy grin, licking his lips suggestively—and part of Xander's brain decided it was kind of redundant for Spike to flirt with him when they were already in the middle of having sex, but the rest of him was too busy enjoying it to care.

After Xander came he grabbed the base of the condom and carefully pulled out of Spike. Spike was still leaning against the sink, with his head hanging down now, and his arms were shaking. Xander tossed the condom into the garbage and leaned against the wall. "Fuck," he said. "That was..."

Finally standing up, Spike smiled. "Good, yeah?" There was just a hint of insecurity in his tone, like maybe on some level he wasn't sure if Xander had enjoyed it at all.

Which was crazy.

"Come here," Xander ordered him. His voice came out all low and rough.

Spike peeled off his own condom first and tossed it in the trash, and he fumbled with his jeans as he crossed the short distance to Xander. As soon as he was in arm's reach Xander grabbed him and pulled him close in a tight hug.

"Good?" Xander whispered. "I've been waiting for that for two fucking months, Spike. It was incredible."

"'Course it was," Spike murmured back, letting his cheek rest against Xander's collar bone. Xander felt something rough and warm; Spike was licking his neck. Then he felt Spike's teeth nipping gently at his skin, and Xander laughed.

"You're not a vampire anymore."

"Old habits, luv," Spike murmured with a smile in his voice.

"Spike? Did you just call me 'love'?" He wouldn't even have asked if he weren't so far past exhausted, in a state like being drunk. Now Spike stiffened in Xander's arms and butterflies dive-bombed Xander's stomach and he wished he'd kept his mouth shut.

"Just an expression," Spike clarified, stepping back from Xander. "I'm fucking English, recall?"

"Yeah. Uh. I don't mind. You can...call me that."

Spike raised an eyebrow at Xander, seemed to study him for a minute, then smiled. "Right then, luv. Time to go."

"Wait," Xander said. The thought of getting back on the bike and pushing on for Berlin suddenly struck him as incredibly stupid. They were both so tired they were shaking, and it's not like they were even in a fucking hurry. "There was a sign for a hotel at this exit, right?"

"Think so, yeah." Spike frowned. "Why?"

Thinking was hard, like wading through molasses. And who wades through molasses, anyway? But Xander managed to decide before he opened his mouth that trying to argue that Spike was too tired to go on was a strategy doomed to defeat. So instead he said, "I'm totally wiped. If we go much farther I'm going to fall asleep and fall off the back of the bike."

Xander was afraid for a moment that Spike would argue it anyway. But then Spike touched Xander's hand and looked at him, head tilted just a bit to the side, and said quietly, "All right then. I'll get you safe to bed."

Xander got a nice feeling in his belly when Spike said that. Warm, and soft, and unexpected.

The attendant barely raised his head from his magazine when they handed back the key. Outside, Xander pulled out his pack of cigarettes. "I'm going to, um, walk down the road a bit for a smoke," he said.

"Yeah, okay." Spike stuffed his hands in his pockets and scuffed the pavement with his boot, and tried to look like he didn't care. "I'll come meet you with the bike."

Xander, meanwhile, was still staring at the pack in his hand. "Know what?" he said. "Screw this." Without letting himself think twice about it, he shoved the cigarettes into the garbage can outside the station door.

Spike's eyebrow lifted again. "You're going to be in a right bad mood tomorrow, luv."

"Yeah, well." He shot Spike a tight grin. "You can distract me."

They climbed on the bike and set off slowly away from the highway. Xander kept his head high, willing himself to stay awake until they got to the hotel. He felt strange and light—giddy, maybe, from the exhaustion and the sex and the endless vibration of the bike.

No, it was more than that. Something had changed. This thing with Spike...it wasn't over. It was only beginning. Xander wasn't sure how far it could go, or what it meant, but he knew one thing: he was happier now than he'd been for a very, very long time.

THE END