Update: Before the Time of Dawn (5 of ?)
Nov. 7th, 2005 07:19 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
shadowscastWas it just yesterday that I posted chapter 4? Yes, it was! Do I have another chapter ready? Yes, I do! Is ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
flurblewig a wonderful speedy beta and fantastic person? Yes, she is!
*ahem*
Before the Time of Dawn (WIP: 5 of ?)
By:shadowscast
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R for naughty language and implied sexual situations
Summary: Post-series Spike and Xander must travel six years back in time to prevent an apocalypse in the future.
Notes: This chapter is about 3200 words. Beta read by the lovelyflurblewig. Feedback and concrit welcome in comments or by email.
Click for:
Previous chapters in "Before the Time of Dawn"
Previous stories in the Fragments 'verse
Cross-posted to![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
spike_fics
Cross-posted tobloodclaim
Chapter Five
They dressed in black for breaking into the school library. Nothing conspicuous, nothing that screamed "I'm out for a pleasant evening of cat-burgling!"—just black jeans for Spike, black cargo pants for Xander, black t-shirts all around. Spike wore his motorcycle jacket, and Xander had a black corduroy blazer he'd borrowed from Giles before the trip.
They took the rental car and switched the headlights off when they pulled into the school's driveway. At the library's rear entrance—the little-used door that led directly into the stacks—Xander listened with a stethoscope for a minute to make sure the place was empty. Sure, it was nearly midnight on a Saturday, but remembering the hours the Scooby gang used to keep, a little caution was in order.
He couldn't hear a thing. "Go for it," he whispered to Spike.
Spike pulled out his lock picks and set to work. They glinted silver in the beam of the sodium light mounted over the door.
In a very short time the door swung open, silent on its hinges.
The library was dark inside, which was good—if anyone was there, they'd have the lights on. Spike slipped inside first and Xander followed, pulling the door shut behind him.
It wasn't pitch black; the moon, three nights from full, shone though the skylight. Once Xander's eye adjusted he could easily make out the bookshelves, the big table and chairs, the circulation desk, the door to the rest of the school.
A shiver ran down his back. For just a moment it was as though he could see them all gathered around that table: Willow in her fuzzy pink shirt poring enthusiastically over the latest dusty text, Oz beside her all cool and laconic, Cordelia pouting and remote but working with them anyway, himself cracking jokes and secretly wondering if he even belonged, and Buffy golden in the center of it all.
Spike's hand on his shoulder brought him back. "You see if you can find the ones out here while I break into the office," he whispered.
Giles had given them a list of six books to bring forward in time. "All six of them are irreplaceable, full of vital information," he'd said, "and after the First's assault on the Council and the destruction of Sunnydale, no copies remain at all. As long as you're in the past anyway, it would be very useful if you could collect them."
"Wasn't there some little thing about not altering the timeline?" Spike had said pointedly.
"I never did find the need to consult these particular volumes in the later years in Sunnydale," Giles had assured him. "If I happen to miss them, I am sure I will attribute their disappearance to the confused evacuation on the morning of the mayor's Ascension."
So here they were. Xander pulled out his pocket flashlight and started searching.
He'd found two of the books on the list when he heard footsteps and voices in the corridor outside. He killed his flashlight and dashed for the office, where Spike was standing on a chair to scan the titles of the books Giles kept on the high shelf.
"We've got company," Xander said, shutting the door behind himself as quickly as he could without slamming it.
"Bugger," Spike said, and snapped off his own flashlight.
At almost the same moment, the library itself was flooded with bright fluorescent light.
"Fuck," Xander whispered, "Get down on the floor."
They sat side by side, backs pressed against the door. If anyone glanced in from the main room, they wouldn't be visible, but if anyone actually tried to come into the office they were screwed. Xander scanned the room for a better hiding place, but nothing presented itself.
Buffy's voice carried easily through the door. "...definitely some kind of nest," she was saying, "right where you thought."
"And you didn't get a good look at any of them?" Giles asked.
"Just shadows," Faith said. "Like B said, we stayed pretty far away. There were too many of them to take on without some kind of plan."
"Well, that's where we come in," Xander heard his own cheerful voice, only slightly muffled by the door. "We're plan-tabulous!"
In the dark office, Spike poked Xander in the ribs and raised an eyebrow. Xander cringed. "I'm eighteen," he whispered defensively.
"I've been working on a spell that might help," Willow said out in the main room. "I think I could fill the cave system up with a sort of dense fog—they wouldn't be able to see what's going on, and maybe you could take them on a few at a time."
"Well that—that's a promising line of attack," Giles said. "Let's talk about techniques for fighting in low visibility."
"They're talking about the Sisterhood, aren't they?" Spike whispered. "Thought this meeting wasn't supposed to happen until Sunday."
"That's what Giles said," Xander whispered back. "I guess he was wrong."
"What do we do if he decides to come into his office for a spot of tea?" Spike whispered.
Xander shrugged in the darkness. "Run for it?"
"And outpace two Slayers who are already between us and the exit?"
"Fuck." Xander grimaced. "I guess we explain ourselves nicely and as vaguely as possible, and then break out the Lethe's Bramble."
"You do realize that's a terrible plan, right?"
"Oh yeah. I'm well aware."
"All right then."
They lapsed back into silence.
In the main room, it sounded as though Faith and Buffy were practicing some combat moves on each other. There were feminine grunts and occasional clatters and thuds. Faith hasn't crossed the line yet, Xander reminded himself. She's still one of the good guys. Hasn't even fucked me yet.
"Wish I could see her," Spike whispered.
Xander was actually confused for a moment, until he realized Spike wasn't talking about Faith.
Buffy.
Oh god.
Buffy was out there, probably fifteen feet away from them. A younger version, sure, but Buffy nonetheless.
Spike hadn't seen Buffy since the day the amulet had burned him up saving the world. She'd found out that he was alive after Xander found him in LA, and of course she'd been furious at Spike for not contacting her and with Giles and Andrew for keeping him a secret. But then there'd been a lot of things happening at once—Xander had gone straight to South Africa to meet up with Rona's team and fight vampires who'd taken over a gold mine, Spike had been sick, and Buffy herself had had to go to Siberia to help Faith fight a frost demon. By the time everyone was safe again, Buffy had heard from Willow that there was something between Spike and Xander.
Ever since then, Buffy had been away from Rome whenever Spike and Xander were in it. And they never talked about it—not him and Buffy in their rare, stilted phone calls, and not him and Spike.
He was a little afraid that Spike was still in love with Buffy. He wasn't sure whether Buffy had ever been in love with Spike, but six months of awkwardness and silence said she felt something about him.
"Can I take this book home, Giles?" Willow asked.
"Yes, of course. Just let me stamp the card."
They could hear Giles's footsteps as he passed the office door on his way around to the back of the circulation counter.
Spike coughed, muffling the sound against his sleeve.
"Shhh," Xander whispered. "He's really close."
Spike nodded, but Xander could hear him breathing. Struggling to breathe. Fuck. He was having an attack.
Spike fumbled in his jacket pocket and his inhaler clattered to the floor between their feet. Wincing at the noise, Xander snatched it up and pressed it into Spike's hand. Spike shook it and then took it between his lips and inhaled sharply. Xander held his own breath for as long as Spike held his. In the heavy silence, Giles's footsteps headed closer to them again and then away as he rounded the desk and went back into the central area, presumably to give Willow the book.
Spike exhaled slowly.
"Are you okay?" Xander whispered.
"Think the medicine's doing the trick," Spike whispered back, hoarse now and quieter than before. "Already breathing easier."
"What happened?"
"Been feeling ... off, all day," Spike confessed. "Maybe it's the Sunnydale air."
Xander's stomach tightened in familiar worry. "Are you getting sick?" he whispered.
"No," Spike insisted. "Nothing like that."
Xander laid his palm over Spike's forehead. He didn't feel feverish.
"I'm fine," Spike said.
Out in the main room, the party seemed to be breaking up. "So we'll reconvene tomorrow at four o'clock," Giles said. "Willow, you should come an hour earlier to practice the spell."
There was a bit of random chatter and squeaking of chair legs against the floor. Xander held his breath again; if Giles was going to decide to come into his office, this would be the moment.
The library light turned off.
"Oh god," Xander said, allowing his voice to rise just above a whisper. "That was too close."
"Good warm-up for Tuesday, then, wasn't it?" Spike said. "Let's find the rest of the books and get the hell out of here."
***
They drove back to the motel with six stolen books in their trunk.
The thing they forgot to take into account, Xander realized slightly too late, was that driving was faster than walking.
As he was unlocking the door to their room, he heard Faith's voice behind them, "Hey, mister, can I bum a cigarette?"
Xander's hand tightened reflexively on the doorknob. He stepped even closer to the door, keeping his face hidden. "Sorry luv," he heard Spike say behind him, "Don't smoke anymore."
"No?" Faith said. Her voice was all teasing and sultry. "Now why would you give it up? Don't tell me you're one of those clean-living types."
She's flirting with him! Xander realized, appalled. In three days I'm going to lose my virginity to her, and she's flirting with my boyfriend!
He couldn't just keep standing there with the key in the door; Faith would realize something was weird. He was afraid to even say anything to Spike, in case Faith recognized his voice. So he just opened the door and slipped inside. He left it open a crack so that Spike could follow.
Which he wasn't doing.
"Turns out," Spike said in a low, amused, silk-and-sandpaper tone, "the things are bad for you."
Xander stood with his back pressed against the wall between the door—still open a crack for easy listening—and the window. He didn't turn on the light in the room.
My boyfriend is flirting with Faith.
"I have been told I'm a bad girl," Faith said.
"Fuck," Xander whispered to the empty room. "I am gonna kill Spike." He turned and took a step sideways, peeked carefully between the room's closed curtains.
Spike and Faith were standing face-to-face, closer to each other than strangers in a deserted parking lot had any business standing. They were right in front of the rental car; Faith had one combat boot perched provocatively on its bumper, and she leaned slightly forward with her elbow on her knee. Spike had his thumbs hooked in his belt so his fingers just happened, so very casually, to frame his package. He was looking at her with that subtle I'm-gonna-eat-you smile that made Xander's knees wobble when it was directed at him, and this was wrong on so very many levels.
"I used to like bad girls," Spike was saying.
"Used to?" Faith repeated, putting on a blatantly seductive pout. "So what do you like now?"
"Nice boys," Spike said, nodding towards the room he shared with Xander.
"Really." Faith chuckled, low in her throat. "Should've known. So," she lifted one finger to touch Spike's chest, "What would you say to both at once?"
Spike caught her wrist in his hand, brought her finger up to his mouth and sucked on it for a moment, locking eyes with Faith. Xander shivered, watching them. "Love the idea," Spike said, releasing her hand. "But my good boy is a little more on the conservative side, so I must regretfully decline."
"Too bad." Faith took a step backwards and caressed her hips with her hands. "If you change your mind, you know where I am, bad boy."
Spike watched Faith until she disappeared into her own room, and then finally came inside.
"What the hell was that?" Xander demanded as soon as the door was closed.
Spike flicked the lights on and blinked in the brightness. "What?" he said, innocent as a kitten. "We didn't do anything."
"You talked," Xander pointed out acidly. "Remember the fucking timeline? The one we're not supposed to screw with?"
"She'd never even seen me before," Spike said, taking his coat off and tossing it over the armchair. "No way of knowing who I was."
"But she'll see you again! For what's supposed to be the first time!"
Spike shrugged it off. "She won't recognize me. My hair'll be all different, and I won't have the glasses."
"Oh yeah, glasses, that's an impenetrable disguise." Xander rolled his eye. "Who do you think you are, Clark Kent?"
Spike sat down on the bed and started unlacing his boots. "All right, say she does recognize me later. So what? She'll think she had a narrow brush with the Big Bad, she'll wonder why her Slayer sense didn't tingle, and that'll be the end of the story. Doubt she'll even bother to mention it to anyone." He kicked the boots across the room and flopped down on the bed.
Xander threw his own jacket on top of Spike's and stalked around to the other side of the bed. "You're not taking this thing seriously enough," he accused Spike. "If we fuck up here, we could ruin everything. You took a stupid chance. Why did you even talk to Faith? You could've just said you didn't smoke and then followed me into the room!"
"Why did you talk to Larry this morning?" Spike retorted.
"Okay, that's totally different. I mean, for starters, Faith's not dead. You can fucking call her up and flirt with her as much as you want as soon as we get back to the future, I don't fucking care."
"Oh." Spike propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at Xander better; now his expression was serious. "Yes, you do. You're not mad at me for the timeline, you're mad at me for Faith."
"No I'm—well, yeah!" Scowling, Xander kicked his shoes off and stripped off his t-shirt. "You were writing act one of a porno flick with her, right in front of me. I think I have a right to be pissed off!"
"I wasn't going to do anything with her," Spike said. "It was all just ... fun."
"You sucked her finger."
"If you calm down, I'll suck all sorts of different parts of you," Spike offered.
Xander was not ready to be appeased. "I know you think you know her, but that's later—you don't know her from now. All she wants is to use you and throw you away."
Spike tilted his head. "Who are we talking about now, exactly, pet?"
Under the influence of Spike's penetrating look, Xander stopped and thought about what he'd just said. "Okay, I may have some outstanding issues here," he admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have talked to Faith."
Spike lay back down on the bed. "May've got a bit carried away. Sorry," he said to the ceiling.
Xander sighed, and decided he didn't want to fight about it any more for now. He finished changing into the boxers he'd been using for sleeping in. When he turned around he saw Spike's eyes were closed. "Are you even going to get undressed?" he asked. Spike didn't respond. Xander crawled across the bed and shook his shoulder.
"Hm?" Spike said, opening his eyes.
"You're not going to sleep in your clothes, are you?"
"Right. No." Spike dragged himself into a sitting position, sat with his head hanging low for a minute, then started peeling off his shirt.
Xander tucked his knees up under his chin and watched. The bruises on Spike's back and chest were on their way to bright purple, and from the slow way he was moving, Xander guessed there was some pain involved.
The transition from being pissed off at Spike to being worried about him was so routine that Xander barely even noticed it happening. "Are you sure that fledge didn't break any ribs?"
"Positive," Spike assured him curtly. "Had enough broken ribs as a vampire, I bloody well know the difference between that and a bit of bruising."
"It's not a bit. It's—damn, we should've put ice on them or something. I could run to the 7-11...." Xander uncurled, moved as though he was about to get off the bed.
"No," Spike snapped. "Let's just go to sleep."
Xander glared back at him. "Why are you mad at me all of a sudden? I'm not the one who was making come-fuck-me eyes at Faith."
Spike's hand curled into a fist but he didn't do anything with it. "I'm tired, all right? My chest still hurts and I ache all over and I hate being human and I was only flirting with the fucking bint, it didn't mean anything!"
"Jesus," Xander whispered, almost under his breath. Spike's frustration with his human situation almost always went unspoken; it scared Xander, sometimes, how bad it had to get before Spike would say something.
He had no idea how to respond to Spike's explosion.
Spike was taut, angry—he had a look like he wanted to storm out of the room, but wearing nothing but pajama pants and covered in bruises he couldn't exactly head down to the local bar. Xander pitched his voice low, conciliatory. "Faith doesn't matter, you're right. She's a ghost here." Trying to talk Spike down from his trembling furious isolation on the other side of the bed. "I didn't mean to—I didn't realize you were so wiped out. I'm sorry." He crawled across the bed and wrapped his arms around Spike from behind, and Spike didn't relax but he didn't resist. "Let's go to sleep. I'm tired too. It'll all be better in the morning."
"No it won't," Spike said. Flat, no tone. "I'll feel like shite in the morning. I feel like shite every morning."
Xander felt a chill run down his spine even though the room was perfectly warm. He wanted to hug Spike tighter, but remembering the vibrant bruises he brushed a kiss across the nape of his neck instead. "When we finish here you're going to go back to London and see your doctor again," he said. "Promise me, Spike."
Spike made a noise that sounded vaguely affirmative.
"Out loud," Xander insisted. "In words. Promise it."
Spike squirmed around so he was facing Xander. "I promise," he said against Xander's lips, suddenly sounding like himself again, "as long as you promise to come to Camden Market with me and get something pierced."
Xander blinked. Thought about it for a second. "Okay," he said. "Deal."
They sealed it with a kiss. Ten minutes later Spike was asleep with his head on Xander's shoulder. Xander lay there for a long time, holding him, until finally sleep came and took him too.
flurblewig a wonderful speedy beta and fantastic person? Yes, she is!*ahem*
Before the Time of Dawn (WIP: 5 of ?)
By:
shadowscastPairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: R for naughty language and implied sexual situations
Summary: Post-series Spike and Xander must travel six years back in time to prevent an apocalypse in the future.
Notes: This chapter is about 3200 words. Beta read by the lovely
flurblewig. Feedback and concrit welcome in comments or by email.Click for:
Previous chapters in "Before the Time of Dawn"
Previous stories in the Fragments 'verse
Cross-posted to
spike_ficsCross-posted to
bloodclaimThey dressed in black for breaking into the school library. Nothing conspicuous, nothing that screamed "I'm out for a pleasant evening of cat-burgling!"—just black jeans for Spike, black cargo pants for Xander, black t-shirts all around. Spike wore his motorcycle jacket, and Xander had a black corduroy blazer he'd borrowed from Giles before the trip.
They took the rental car and switched the headlights off when they pulled into the school's driveway. At the library's rear entrance—the little-used door that led directly into the stacks—Xander listened with a stethoscope for a minute to make sure the place was empty. Sure, it was nearly midnight on a Saturday, but remembering the hours the Scooby gang used to keep, a little caution was in order.
He couldn't hear a thing. "Go for it," he whispered to Spike.
Spike pulled out his lock picks and set to work. They glinted silver in the beam of the sodium light mounted over the door.
In a very short time the door swung open, silent on its hinges.
The library was dark inside, which was good—if anyone was there, they'd have the lights on. Spike slipped inside first and Xander followed, pulling the door shut behind him.
It wasn't pitch black; the moon, three nights from full, shone though the skylight. Once Xander's eye adjusted he could easily make out the bookshelves, the big table and chairs, the circulation desk, the door to the rest of the school.
A shiver ran down his back. For just a moment it was as though he could see them all gathered around that table: Willow in her fuzzy pink shirt poring enthusiastically over the latest dusty text, Oz beside her all cool and laconic, Cordelia pouting and remote but working with them anyway, himself cracking jokes and secretly wondering if he even belonged, and Buffy golden in the center of it all.
Spike's hand on his shoulder brought him back. "You see if you can find the ones out here while I break into the office," he whispered.
Giles had given them a list of six books to bring forward in time. "All six of them are irreplaceable, full of vital information," he'd said, "and after the First's assault on the Council and the destruction of Sunnydale, no copies remain at all. As long as you're in the past anyway, it would be very useful if you could collect them."
"Wasn't there some little thing about not altering the timeline?" Spike had said pointedly.
"I never did find the need to consult these particular volumes in the later years in Sunnydale," Giles had assured him. "If I happen to miss them, I am sure I will attribute their disappearance to the confused evacuation on the morning of the mayor's Ascension."
So here they were. Xander pulled out his pocket flashlight and started searching.
He'd found two of the books on the list when he heard footsteps and voices in the corridor outside. He killed his flashlight and dashed for the office, where Spike was standing on a chair to scan the titles of the books Giles kept on the high shelf.
"We've got company," Xander said, shutting the door behind himself as quickly as he could without slamming it.
"Bugger," Spike said, and snapped off his own flashlight.
At almost the same moment, the library itself was flooded with bright fluorescent light.
"Fuck," Xander whispered, "Get down on the floor."
They sat side by side, backs pressed against the door. If anyone glanced in from the main room, they wouldn't be visible, but if anyone actually tried to come into the office they were screwed. Xander scanned the room for a better hiding place, but nothing presented itself.
Buffy's voice carried easily through the door. "...definitely some kind of nest," she was saying, "right where you thought."
"And you didn't get a good look at any of them?" Giles asked.
"Just shadows," Faith said. "Like B said, we stayed pretty far away. There were too many of them to take on without some kind of plan."
"Well, that's where we come in," Xander heard his own cheerful voice, only slightly muffled by the door. "We're plan-tabulous!"
In the dark office, Spike poked Xander in the ribs and raised an eyebrow. Xander cringed. "I'm eighteen," he whispered defensively.
"I've been working on a spell that might help," Willow said out in the main room. "I think I could fill the cave system up with a sort of dense fog—they wouldn't be able to see what's going on, and maybe you could take them on a few at a time."
"Well that—that's a promising line of attack," Giles said. "Let's talk about techniques for fighting in low visibility."
"They're talking about the Sisterhood, aren't they?" Spike whispered. "Thought this meeting wasn't supposed to happen until Sunday."
"That's what Giles said," Xander whispered back. "I guess he was wrong."
"What do we do if he decides to come into his office for a spot of tea?" Spike whispered.
Xander shrugged in the darkness. "Run for it?"
"And outpace two Slayers who are already between us and the exit?"
"Fuck." Xander grimaced. "I guess we explain ourselves nicely and as vaguely as possible, and then break out the Lethe's Bramble."
"You do realize that's a terrible plan, right?"
"Oh yeah. I'm well aware."
"All right then."
They lapsed back into silence.
In the main room, it sounded as though Faith and Buffy were practicing some combat moves on each other. There were feminine grunts and occasional clatters and thuds. Faith hasn't crossed the line yet, Xander reminded himself. She's still one of the good guys. Hasn't even fucked me yet.
"Wish I could see her," Spike whispered.
Xander was actually confused for a moment, until he realized Spike wasn't talking about Faith.
Buffy.
Oh god.
Buffy was out there, probably fifteen feet away from them. A younger version, sure, but Buffy nonetheless.
Spike hadn't seen Buffy since the day the amulet had burned him up saving the world. She'd found out that he was alive after Xander found him in LA, and of course she'd been furious at Spike for not contacting her and with Giles and Andrew for keeping him a secret. But then there'd been a lot of things happening at once—Xander had gone straight to South Africa to meet up with Rona's team and fight vampires who'd taken over a gold mine, Spike had been sick, and Buffy herself had had to go to Siberia to help Faith fight a frost demon. By the time everyone was safe again, Buffy had heard from Willow that there was something between Spike and Xander.
Ever since then, Buffy had been away from Rome whenever Spike and Xander were in it. And they never talked about it—not him and Buffy in their rare, stilted phone calls, and not him and Spike.
He was a little afraid that Spike was still in love with Buffy. He wasn't sure whether Buffy had ever been in love with Spike, but six months of awkwardness and silence said she felt something about him.
"Can I take this book home, Giles?" Willow asked.
"Yes, of course. Just let me stamp the card."
They could hear Giles's footsteps as he passed the office door on his way around to the back of the circulation counter.
Spike coughed, muffling the sound against his sleeve.
"Shhh," Xander whispered. "He's really close."
Spike nodded, but Xander could hear him breathing. Struggling to breathe. Fuck. He was having an attack.
Spike fumbled in his jacket pocket and his inhaler clattered to the floor between their feet. Wincing at the noise, Xander snatched it up and pressed it into Spike's hand. Spike shook it and then took it between his lips and inhaled sharply. Xander held his own breath for as long as Spike held his. In the heavy silence, Giles's footsteps headed closer to them again and then away as he rounded the desk and went back into the central area, presumably to give Willow the book.
Spike exhaled slowly.
"Are you okay?" Xander whispered.
"Think the medicine's doing the trick," Spike whispered back, hoarse now and quieter than before. "Already breathing easier."
"What happened?"
"Been feeling ... off, all day," Spike confessed. "Maybe it's the Sunnydale air."
Xander's stomach tightened in familiar worry. "Are you getting sick?" he whispered.
"No," Spike insisted. "Nothing like that."
Xander laid his palm over Spike's forehead. He didn't feel feverish.
"I'm fine," Spike said.
Out in the main room, the party seemed to be breaking up. "So we'll reconvene tomorrow at four o'clock," Giles said. "Willow, you should come an hour earlier to practice the spell."
There was a bit of random chatter and squeaking of chair legs against the floor. Xander held his breath again; if Giles was going to decide to come into his office, this would be the moment.
The library light turned off.
"Oh god," Xander said, allowing his voice to rise just above a whisper. "That was too close."
"Good warm-up for Tuesday, then, wasn't it?" Spike said. "Let's find the rest of the books and get the hell out of here."
They drove back to the motel with six stolen books in their trunk.
The thing they forgot to take into account, Xander realized slightly too late, was that driving was faster than walking.
As he was unlocking the door to their room, he heard Faith's voice behind them, "Hey, mister, can I bum a cigarette?"
Xander's hand tightened reflexively on the doorknob. He stepped even closer to the door, keeping his face hidden. "Sorry luv," he heard Spike say behind him, "Don't smoke anymore."
"No?" Faith said. Her voice was all teasing and sultry. "Now why would you give it up? Don't tell me you're one of those clean-living types."
She's flirting with him! Xander realized, appalled. In three days I'm going to lose my virginity to her, and she's flirting with my boyfriend!
He couldn't just keep standing there with the key in the door; Faith would realize something was weird. He was afraid to even say anything to Spike, in case Faith recognized his voice. So he just opened the door and slipped inside. He left it open a crack so that Spike could follow.
Which he wasn't doing.
"Turns out," Spike said in a low, amused, silk-and-sandpaper tone, "the things are bad for you."
Xander stood with his back pressed against the wall between the door—still open a crack for easy listening—and the window. He didn't turn on the light in the room.
My boyfriend is flirting with Faith.
"I have been told I'm a bad girl," Faith said.
"Fuck," Xander whispered to the empty room. "I am gonna kill Spike." He turned and took a step sideways, peeked carefully between the room's closed curtains.
Spike and Faith were standing face-to-face, closer to each other than strangers in a deserted parking lot had any business standing. They were right in front of the rental car; Faith had one combat boot perched provocatively on its bumper, and she leaned slightly forward with her elbow on her knee. Spike had his thumbs hooked in his belt so his fingers just happened, so very casually, to frame his package. He was looking at her with that subtle I'm-gonna-eat-you smile that made Xander's knees wobble when it was directed at him, and this was wrong on so very many levels.
"I used to like bad girls," Spike was saying.
"Used to?" Faith repeated, putting on a blatantly seductive pout. "So what do you like now?"
"Nice boys," Spike said, nodding towards the room he shared with Xander.
"Really." Faith chuckled, low in her throat. "Should've known. So," she lifted one finger to touch Spike's chest, "What would you say to both at once?"
Spike caught her wrist in his hand, brought her finger up to his mouth and sucked on it for a moment, locking eyes with Faith. Xander shivered, watching them. "Love the idea," Spike said, releasing her hand. "But my good boy is a little more on the conservative side, so I must regretfully decline."
"Too bad." Faith took a step backwards and caressed her hips with her hands. "If you change your mind, you know where I am, bad boy."
Spike watched Faith until she disappeared into her own room, and then finally came inside.
"What the hell was that?" Xander demanded as soon as the door was closed.
Spike flicked the lights on and blinked in the brightness. "What?" he said, innocent as a kitten. "We didn't do anything."
"You talked," Xander pointed out acidly. "Remember the fucking timeline? The one we're not supposed to screw with?"
"She'd never even seen me before," Spike said, taking his coat off and tossing it over the armchair. "No way of knowing who I was."
"But she'll see you again! For what's supposed to be the first time!"
Spike shrugged it off. "She won't recognize me. My hair'll be all different, and I won't have the glasses."
"Oh yeah, glasses, that's an impenetrable disguise." Xander rolled his eye. "Who do you think you are, Clark Kent?"
Spike sat down on the bed and started unlacing his boots. "All right, say she does recognize me later. So what? She'll think she had a narrow brush with the Big Bad, she'll wonder why her Slayer sense didn't tingle, and that'll be the end of the story. Doubt she'll even bother to mention it to anyone." He kicked the boots across the room and flopped down on the bed.
Xander threw his own jacket on top of Spike's and stalked around to the other side of the bed. "You're not taking this thing seriously enough," he accused Spike. "If we fuck up here, we could ruin everything. You took a stupid chance. Why did you even talk to Faith? You could've just said you didn't smoke and then followed me into the room!"
"Why did you talk to Larry this morning?" Spike retorted.
"Okay, that's totally different. I mean, for starters, Faith's not dead. You can fucking call her up and flirt with her as much as you want as soon as we get back to the future, I don't fucking care."
"Oh." Spike propped himself up on his elbows so he could look at Xander better; now his expression was serious. "Yes, you do. You're not mad at me for the timeline, you're mad at me for Faith."
"No I'm—well, yeah!" Scowling, Xander kicked his shoes off and stripped off his t-shirt. "You were writing act one of a porno flick with her, right in front of me. I think I have a right to be pissed off!"
"I wasn't going to do anything with her," Spike said. "It was all just ... fun."
"You sucked her finger."
"If you calm down, I'll suck all sorts of different parts of you," Spike offered.
Xander was not ready to be appeased. "I know you think you know her, but that's later—you don't know her from now. All she wants is to use you and throw you away."
Spike tilted his head. "Who are we talking about now, exactly, pet?"
Under the influence of Spike's penetrating look, Xander stopped and thought about what he'd just said. "Okay, I may have some outstanding issues here," he admitted. "But that doesn't change the fact that you shouldn't have talked to Faith."
Spike lay back down on the bed. "May've got a bit carried away. Sorry," he said to the ceiling.
Xander sighed, and decided he didn't want to fight about it any more for now. He finished changing into the boxers he'd been using for sleeping in. When he turned around he saw Spike's eyes were closed. "Are you even going to get undressed?" he asked. Spike didn't respond. Xander crawled across the bed and shook his shoulder.
"Hm?" Spike said, opening his eyes.
"You're not going to sleep in your clothes, are you?"
"Right. No." Spike dragged himself into a sitting position, sat with his head hanging low for a minute, then started peeling off his shirt.
Xander tucked his knees up under his chin and watched. The bruises on Spike's back and chest were on their way to bright purple, and from the slow way he was moving, Xander guessed there was some pain involved.
The transition from being pissed off at Spike to being worried about him was so routine that Xander barely even noticed it happening. "Are you sure that fledge didn't break any ribs?"
"Positive," Spike assured him curtly. "Had enough broken ribs as a vampire, I bloody well know the difference between that and a bit of bruising."
"It's not a bit. It's—damn, we should've put ice on them or something. I could run to the 7-11...." Xander uncurled, moved as though he was about to get off the bed.
"No," Spike snapped. "Let's just go to sleep."
Xander glared back at him. "Why are you mad at me all of a sudden? I'm not the one who was making come-fuck-me eyes at Faith."
Spike's hand curled into a fist but he didn't do anything with it. "I'm tired, all right? My chest still hurts and I ache all over and I hate being human and I was only flirting with the fucking bint, it didn't mean anything!"
"Jesus," Xander whispered, almost under his breath. Spike's frustration with his human situation almost always went unspoken; it scared Xander, sometimes, how bad it had to get before Spike would say something.
He had no idea how to respond to Spike's explosion.
Spike was taut, angry—he had a look like he wanted to storm out of the room, but wearing nothing but pajama pants and covered in bruises he couldn't exactly head down to the local bar. Xander pitched his voice low, conciliatory. "Faith doesn't matter, you're right. She's a ghost here." Trying to talk Spike down from his trembling furious isolation on the other side of the bed. "I didn't mean to—I didn't realize you were so wiped out. I'm sorry." He crawled across the bed and wrapped his arms around Spike from behind, and Spike didn't relax but he didn't resist. "Let's go to sleep. I'm tired too. It'll all be better in the morning."
"No it won't," Spike said. Flat, no tone. "I'll feel like shite in the morning. I feel like shite every morning."
Xander felt a chill run down his spine even though the room was perfectly warm. He wanted to hug Spike tighter, but remembering the vibrant bruises he brushed a kiss across the nape of his neck instead. "When we finish here you're going to go back to London and see your doctor again," he said. "Promise me, Spike."
Spike made a noise that sounded vaguely affirmative.
"Out loud," Xander insisted. "In words. Promise it."
Spike squirmed around so he was facing Xander. "I promise," he said against Xander's lips, suddenly sounding like himself again, "as long as you promise to come to Camden Market with me and get something pierced."
Xander blinked. Thought about it for a second. "Okay," he said. "Deal."
They sealed it with a kiss. Ten minutes later Spike was asleep with his head on Xander's shoulder. Xander lay there for a long time, holding him, until finally sleep came and took him too.
