Updated PartTitle: Expecting
Author: EntreNous
Rating: NC-17 overall
Fandom: Buffy the Vampire Slayer
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Summary: The things that happen when you're least expecting them...
Archive/Distribution: At my site, http://www.geocities.com/entrenous88/ soonish and at list archives. Anywhere else, please ask first.
Disclaimer: All Btvs and Ats characters belong to Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy and affiliated production companies. I do not profit from this story in any way. No infringement is intended. The story, however, does belong to me.
Feedback: Yes, please. ezbake88@a... or on my updates list http://www.groups.yahoo.com/group/EntreNousUpdates/
AN: mpreg* * * * * *
"This is lame," Xander announced.
"Got that right," Spike said.
"Why can't Angel get his stupid packages himself? What's Giles doing being Angel's receiving service? And how come we're the ones that have to deliver the box? Do you realize how stupid we look trolley-ing this thing through the streets on a hand-cart?"
Spike sighed and shrugged further into his coat. "Look, we'll drop the big bad box off, then I can go get my blood at your place and you can go back to wallowing in that sad existence that you're calling a life these days."
"My life is not sad," Xander said with a frown.
"Got no bint. Not getting sex. Get fired every other week. Live in a glorified laundry room." Spike paused as he counted off the first four items on his hand, then brightened when he thought of the last. "Got no style whatsoever."
"Shows how much you know," Xander retorted. "I've had the same job for a couple of months now, and at the end of the month I'm moving in to a new place.
Signed the lease a week ago. Bye bye basement; hello semi-swanky bachelor pad."
"Cheeky!" Spike said. He grinned at Xander and tapped a cigarette out of its carton. "Moving on up then, are we? Won't forget about your old buddy Spike when you're tacking up your miserable comic book paraphernalia on the white walls of that soulless new apartment unit?"
"Whatever," Xander muttered. "At least I'm not living in a crypt."
Spike raised his eyebrows and wagged his tongue at Xander. "Hurt, really, I'm hurt that you can't drum up a better comeback than that."
Xander shot him a look, and Spike drew on his cigarette merrily as they finished the walk to the mansion in silence.
"End of the line," Xander said finally when they got to the steps leading down to the courtyard. "Either we lift the trolley or we carry the thing down by hand."
Spike cocked his head at the box. "Let's give it a go carrying it. Faster that way."
"Okay," Xander said, snapping the cords securing the box to the hand cart off. "Ready?"
"Yeah," Spike said through the cigarette dangling out of his mouth. "Heave . . ."
"Ho," Xander finished.
They lifted up the box rapidly and stumbled back, ending up sprawled on the pavement with the offending item on the ground between them.
"Hey!" Xander cried indignantly.
Spike rubbed his elbow and grabbed his still-lit cigarette from where it had landed, shoving it impatiently back into his mouth.
Xander pointed at the box and sputtered. "That doesn't weigh anything at all!"
Spike curled his lips in derision. "Thanks ever so for stating the obvious."
"The hell? Why the big production with the cart?"
Spike shrugged.
"This is nuts," Xander said. "I can carry that thing down there by myself."
"Yeah, but maybe I'm here to make sure the beasties don't get you," Spike said with a twinkle in his eye.
"Look, just wait here, okay?" Xander lifted the extremely-light box up and trudged down the stairs. Spike just grinned and followed at his heels.
Xander set the box down and rapped at the door. Nothing. "Geez, he isn't even there. For all that, he's probably out of town or something, and this whole stupid trek -- aaaarrggghhh!!" he shouted when Spike tapped him on the shoulder suddenly. "Don't you ever follow directions?"
"Step aside while I open the door," Spike advised coolly.
"Fine. Guess we can just leave it here. Giles didn't say anything about a person-to-vampire delivery, so . . ." Xander muttered as he followed Spike inside. He set the box on the floor and brushed his hands off. "All right. Let's get out of here."
Spike toed the box with interest. "Aren't curious about what's inside?"
"No," Xander said, but he paused before he got the word out.
"Wonder if it's some sort of cape," Spike mused. "Can picture Angel swooping around here all by his lonesome, baring his fangs at motes of dust. Cape'd be light."
"And thank you for that nightmare image. It's probably nothing. Literally nothing, since it doesn't weigh more than the cardboard," Xander said firmly.
"Nothing, eh?" Spike ran a finger along the seam of the box. "No harm in opening it up then, is it?"
"Maybe," Xander said. He took a step closer to the box and Spike.
"Come on, then," Spike said. He grabbed Xander's hand and pulled him closer to the box. "We'll open it together. Go halves on anything worth taking."
"Not going to be anything to take," Xander insisted, but he skimmed his hand over the top and watched Spike expectantly.
"See, it's not even properly closed," Spike argued. Xander took a look at the heavily taped box with DO NOT OPEN written all over it and raised both eyebrows.
"There'd be a proper lock on it, and a tougher material than this, if it was something really dangerous," Spike explained.
"That does make sense," Xander said slowly. His hand went to his pocket and came out with a round of utility tape. "And I've got this -- forgot that I snagged it from work -- so we can shut it up again."
"There you go," Spike concluded. Xander took out his pocket knife, and Spike shook his hand to turn fingernails into talons, and they sliced the tape sealing the box quickly, meeting halfway and opening it the cardboard flaps together.
"Holy --"
"Christ --"
They looked at the box and then at each other.
"It's a bit of fluff," Spike said disbelievingly.
"Like a big ball of cotton-fluff," Xander agreed. "And . . . a bunch of glitter?"
"Sparklies," Spike confirmed. They looked at one another for a long moment, then burst out laughing.
"Is Angel going to make some . . . arts-and-crafts paper heart . . . with that . . . stuff?" Xander gasped out.
"What a sad sod!" Spike crowed.
"Maybe it's to get Buffy to be his . . . Valentine," Xander got out, and they laughed so hard that they held on to one another.
Spike wiped his eyes and Xander shook his head as they wound down. They grinned at each other while Xander taped the box back up nice and tight, and traipsed out into the night, occasionally lapsing into loud snorts and guffaws and leaning on one another for support.
* * * * * *
Back at the basement, Spike poked around in the freezer for blood, and wordlessly accepted the mug that Xander handed him to heat up his dinner in the microwave.
Xander sprawled on the couch and turned on the television, eyeing Spike when he took a seat at the other end. "You staying?"
"Why not?" Spike shrugged. "Night's getting on . . . not much time to hunt down anything satisfyingly large and kill it before daybreak. Might as well stay here."
" 'Kay. Hey, Spike?"
"Yeah?"
"That was kind of hilarious . . . that stuff in the box at Angel's," Xander grinned at him.
"Was at that," Spike smirked back.
"What the hell was that fluffy shiny mess, do you think?" Xander asked. He resettled on the couch, ending up on the cushion next to Spike instead of at the other end.
"Dunno. Maybe Angel doesn't know what's in there. Giles say anything about what was inside?" Spike rested the top of his hand on Xander's thigh and stroked lightly.
"Nah. Just took a look at the thing and rounded us up for delivery detail." Xander shifted a closer to Spike so that their legs were touching.
"Oh, well, who cares," Spike said, running his palm along Xander's leg with a bit more pressure.
Xander gave a little sigh, and leaned towards Spike, who lifted his arm to rest around Xander's shoulders. "Well, it was funny anyway. And I'm so giving him hell for the glitter."
"You should. Became a right ponce once he decided to stay in Sunnydale with Buffy after all," Spike murmured into Xander's hair.
Xander turned to Spike and looked at him with widening eyes. "Do you think we should tell him we opened the box? Since it wasn't anything big in there anyway . . . I don't want him getting all avenge-y on us for no good reason."
Spike gazed at Xander's full lips and licked his own. "No use in it. Just let him find his bits of shiny and fluffy on his own. No point in us getting involved."
"No point in us getting involved," Xander agreed shakily, his lips a breath away from Spike's mouth.
"Yeah," Spike murmured, and drew Xander's head closer to kiss him.
Spike's fingers threaded through Xander's hair as Xander's mouth moved back against his. Xander moaned slightly, parting his lips and shivering when Spike's tongue slipped through them, lightly stroking.
They pulled away from one another and stared.
"This should be really strange," Xander said wonderingly.
"Not though," Spike replied, diving back in to kiss his way up the side of Xander's neck.
"Oh, god," Xander croaked. "Just keep doing that, or . . . wait," he shoved Spike away, breathing hard.
"Well then," Spike said with a frown.
"Don't get all mad . . . I just want to . . ." Xander trailed off before reaching for Spike's shirt to unbutton it, running his hands along the thin t-shirt beneath.
"Nice, very nice," Spike said in a low voice, moving to pull Xander's t-shirt off and drawing that warm body flush to his own.
"Wow," Xander mumbled into the kiss, and Spike slipped his hands down into the waistband of Xander's jeans, kneading at the skin there. Xander cried out softly when Spike brought one hand to the front of his jeans, resting along the button fly. He thrust up against Spike's palm, deepening the kiss with enthusiasm.
"You know, easier doing this if we're more comfortable," Spike said reasonably when they drew apart, and they rose together to pull out the couch.
"Yeah . . . easier," Xander said as he crawled on to the fold-out bed and turned onto his back to face Spike.
Spike growled low and pounced.
Xander made a small noise of surprise, but then he was digging his nails into Spike's shoulders to bring him closer, crying out under Spike's thumbs scraping against his nipples, and squirming underneath Spike's hard body trying to increase the contact of skin-on-skin. He actually squeaked when Spike undid and pulled off his jeans along with his boxers in one swift motion.
Spike looked over the flushed boy splayed out front of him and his skin prickled with anticipation as he stripped off his own denim and shrugged the rest of the way out of his t-shirt. "Fuck, Xander . . . want to fuck you right now . . . "
"Go for it," Xander urged. He reached under the pillow and came up with a tube of lube, slapping it into Spike's palm.
Spike stopped suddenly, kneeling back on his heels and bringing the heel of his hand to his forehead. "Wait. Wait just a second. Wait."
"Hey," Xander said petulantly, sitting up to run his hands down Spike's chest. "Why did you stop?"
"Something's weird," Spike said weakly as Xander's right hand trailed down to cup his balls then slid up to stroke up along the underside of his cock. "It's too quick, it's . . . fuuuuck," he moaned out as Xander began to pull on him slowly with an up-over-down motion.
"Don't you want to?" Xander asked.
Spike shook his head, nodded, then shook his head again, but his hands kept creeping up Xander's thighs, pressing and caressing until he was rubbing Xander's groin gently around but not touching his cock.
"Not right, something's off, and I won't have you blaming me when . . ." Spike insisted for a moment, trailing off when he realized that he was actually turning down what was shaping up to be a really fine shag. "Yeah, okay," he said quickly.
Xander shifted so that he got his legs around Spike, then leaned back onto the bed, pulling Spike along with him. "Like this," he whispered as their cocks met and rubbed together.
"Want inside of you," Spike muttered.
"Yeah, want . . . please Spike, please . . ."
A kiss, a snap of plastic, a soft murmur.
"Fuck, so tight . . ."
"Uhh . . . another one . . ."
"Ohh yeah . . . like that, don't you?"
A whimper, a sudden intake of breath, a sharp cry.
"Do that part again!"
"What, this?"
A gasp. Laughter.
"I'm okay, I'm good -- more . . ."
"Yeah . . . yeah . . . fuck, that's right . . . just hold on to your legs there, love . . . ready?"
"Oh . . . my . . . god . . ."
"Oh, do that again, lovely . . . taking it so nicely, aren't you? Push back then, that's right."
"Can't last, can't . . ."
" 'S okay . . . so hot, baby, feel so good . . ."
"Aahh . . . kiss me again, now . . ."
Muffled cries.
"Fuck, love!"
A long pause.
"Wow . . . Spike?"
"What's that, pet?"
"What the hell just happened?"
********
Part Three:
Spike rolled onto his back, one arm bent, hand cupping his head, and exhaled slowly. "I should think that'd be obvious."
He paused before reaching for his lighter and a cigarette, but as he'd already taken rather more important liberties with Xander he shrugged and lit up.
Xander's voice was muffled through his hands covering his face, but the words came through clearly enough. "Yeah, I get what happened. What with the touching and the thrusting and the . . . oh god . . . But I mean, what happened?"
"Told you something was off," Spike said. "I wanted to stop, but oh no, you wouldn't listen to me."
He twisted to face Xander, his jaw set. Damned if he was going to take the blame when he was the one urging them to think long and hard, holding off the encounter for . . . well, for almost a whole minute before getting back into the game. But he'd given it a try!
Xander stared straight up at the ceiling, but the expression he wore was just as determined. "Oh, so you were the one that wanted to stop? Need I remind you that you were also the one with the sexy touching on the couch and the really incredible kissing and the suggestions for getting more comfortable and then that truly inspired thing you did with your finger and then . . . " Xander trailed off when he realized that Spike was staring at him pointedly.
"Okay, I'm not making a good case for myself am I? So I liked it . . . I . . . obviously, you're really good . . . I mean, I've never done that, and not to sound rude but I'm not sure I would've picked you for . . . but knowing what I know now, you'd top the list . . . And again I say, the hell?"
There was a long silence. Spike stabbed out his cigarette in the mug still wet from the blood he'd had earlier.
"Look," Xander forced out. "I'm not upset or . . . I wanted it too, it's just . . . you have to admit that that came out of nowhere!"
"Well." Spike's voice dropped low, and he laid a flat palm on Xander's abdomen. "Maybe it did. Fact of the matter is, it happened. Had a bloody good time is all. Nothing wrong with that."
Xander sucked in a breath and nodded slightly. "Yeah. Okay."
"Right. There's no call for getting upset then." Spike skimmed his hand up and down the thin line of hair tracing a path from Xander's navel to his groin. He swiped away the remains of streaks of cum, and gently twirled a finger in the damp curls surrounding Xander's now softened cock.
Xander swallowed and turned his head, gazing at Spike uncertainly. "It was . . . okay?"
"More than," Spike replied.
"Yeah, I thought so too. But new to the whole man-sex thing, so . . . just wanted to check. Was over kind of fast," Xander said a little breathlessly.
"Good kind of fast, but yeah." Spike's eyes dropped to Xander's chest, and his hand rubbed slowly, working up and down from collarbone to the seam separating thigh from hip and back again.
"Maybe we should do it again," Xander said in a rush. "Just to be sure . . ."
"Perhaps we ought," Spike said almost formally.
They looked at each other curiously, then burst out laughing.
"This is crazy talk," Xander said. "To be sure of what?"
"Right! Off our gourds, somehow. Feel like I've had a few too many . . ."
"We're not drunk. We've just --"
"Gone funny."
"Um, yeah, I guess." Xander smiled tentatively at Spike and Spike flashed him a smirk.
A few deep breaths, a few more strokes, and--
"Okay, seriously . . ."
"Right then . . ."
Xander rolled on top of Spike, murmuring nonsense into the kiss they launched even as Spike grasped his hips, repositioning him so they were cock to cock. He twisted helpfully underneath him, thrusting against Xander while Xander gripped his shoulders and bit and licked into the kiss.
"God this feels so good, feels so --"
"Feels right, yeah, so right, pet --"
"Not just that, it's like I need --"
"Yeah, like that love, fuck . . . need you too, want you --"
"Can you . . . again, inside me . . ."
"Think I could see my way to it, pet . . . oh hell. Have to be inside you, right now . . ."
Xander flushed all over as he lifted, rearranging his limbs until he was straddling Spike. "This okay?"
Spike peered up through heavy lids as Xander's slightly shaky hand reached behind to guide his cock flush to the cleft. "That's it, lovely. Nice and slow this time, I promise."
Xander stopped for a moment, his eyes screwed shut and made one last ditch effort. "This isn't like us!" he got out.
"Then we're idiots," Spike said firmly.
Xander opened his eyes and they gazed at one another for a moment. "We must be," Xander said in a soft voice.
"Right then." Spike gave a small nod, his hands stroking up Xander's torso soothingly.
This time there was no talking as Xander's hand found Spike's hard cock, as Spike's eyes rolled back momentarily when he felt his head breach Xander, enveloped at last in that enticing heat. There was no speaking as Xander moved back slowly, easing Spike's erection into that already slick hole, crying out softly as Spike murmured to him and pressed into him inch by inch. There were no words as Spike traced a finger along the prominent vein on Xander's hardened cock, ran it along the rim and over the damp head before bringing his finger to his mouth and licking it clean.
Spike's eyes met Xander's in the moment that he was fully seated inside him, and they smiled at one another slightly.
"How do I . . ." Xander asked.
"Like this," Spike said, guiding Xander so that he lifted up and down. "Oh yeah. Keep on exactly like that, pet. You set the pace, alright?"
"You might have to help some," Xander said with a crooked grin. "Little hard to concentrate . . . because . . . oh god . . . why haven't we done this before?"
"Too busy harping at each other," Spike got out between pants. He gritted his teeth to stay on track, grabbed Xander's hips, and changed the angle slightly with each shove inside until he heard Xander yelp.
"Yeah, I . . . oh god . . . Spike . . .again . . ."
"Just like that . . . baby, love the way you . . . tight, oh fuck, so tight . . ."
Xander managed to look desperate and peevish all at once. "Want to go slow, but can't . . . please, Spike, help me . . . faster . . ."
Spike nearly laughed out loud. "Don't have to ask me twice, baby. Lovely like that, you are, pretty cock twitching at me . . ."
One hand under Xander, the other giving too-soft caresses to his erection down to his balls and back again, Spike began lifting and thrusting in tandem, pushing hard into Xander, watching those eyes get wider and hazier with every pulse.
They grunted at each other, gasping when a tightness in each of them buzzed along their nerves and somehow met in the middle between them. Spike's grip on Xander's cock pulled it taut again and again, and Xander pushed up and sank down relentlessly until they were shouting together hoarsely, coming so hard and so close that it wasn't clear who'd stopped and who'd started.
Xander struggled to even his breathing, but finally gave in, slumping onto Spike and letting the hitching breaths come out of him. Spike made noises, more like cooing than words, rearranging and settling them until Xander was in his arms, still panting, while Spike rubbed circles along his shoulders and back.
"Wow. And at the risk of repeating myself, wow," Xander said reverently. Spike just laughed.
They lay tangled for a long while, comfortably tracing patterns on skin and squirming closer together.
"Tired?" Spike asked after some time had elapsed, seeing Xander's eyelids droop.
"Kinda, but . . ." Xander looked up at him sheepishly.
Spike looked at him, amazed, then laughed again, a happy astonished laugh. "Seriously?"
"Yeah," Xander said, all embarrassment with flushing cheeks and downcast eyes. "Can we . . . again?"
********
Part Four
********
Xander's hand emerged from the covers and groped around on the stack of milk crates serving as a nightstand. Ringing -- alarm? -- no, phone -- and the receiver was snatched and brought under the pile of blankets.
"Xander. Thanks."
Not that Xander didn't welcome Angel's customary not-overly talkative self, because he could still feel himself struggling into waking status. But . . . thanks? Not so much like Angel. And for what?
"I'll give a hearty 'you're welcome' as soon as I know what the heck you're talking about," Xander grumbled into the phone. "What's the big idea, anyway, calling me so early? You're not supposed to be up in the morning. And did I miss the memo about you suddenly getting on board the whole human courtesy thing?"
"For the box, Xander. I'm awake because it's nightfall." Angel paused, and then remarked petulantly, "I say things like please and thank you all the time."
Xander shifted, bringing the covers down and yawning into the phone. "Not to me you don't."
"Well, this was important enough for me to thank you. Key, in fact, to negotiating a truce between the two warring Glaz'broth clans just outside of Sunnydale. So I just wanted to let you and Spike know --"
"Spike!" Xander shrieked, and the lump of covers next to him jerked and began cursing.
"GottagoAngelbye!" he blurted into the phone and hung up.
"Wazzat?" Spike said in a cranky voice.
"Spike!" Xander exclaimed once again.
Spike rubbed his temples and gave a world-weary sigh. "Got that part down already. Me Spike. You Xander. We . . . " He left his sentence unfinished and pointed a finger at Xander. "Hey! You had sex with me!"
"No, I didn't," Xander protested. "You had sex with *me*!"
They glared at one another angrily.
"Fine. I may have had sex with you," Spike said grudgingly.
Xander huffed indignantly, but then nodded. "Well, guess it's fair to say we both were involved. But this is *so* much more your fault than mine!"
Spike rolled his eyes. "Can't admit to your own part. Typical. Who kept saying we should go again, now?"
"I resent that! Who was the one that was all, 'oh, need you, want you', and enticing me with the stomach stroking and thrusting?"
"Oh yeah? Well, who was the one that climbed aboard like a naughty boy and rode me like he couldn't get enough of--"
They moved desperately towards one another, breathing hard and bent on connecting their still-naked bodies, until Xander forcibly wrenched himself away.
"What the fuck?" he swore as he scrambled to his feet and backed away until he hit the wall.
"Oh, calm yourself," Spike snarled, but he looked worried as he began to scan the room for his clothes. "Can't go anywhere yet with the sun up, so we might as well try to make nice and get past this."
"Except not, because it's dark outside," Xander pointed out in a superior tone. "So you can just go ahead and leave any time you want."
"Like a casino in here, it is," Spike said. "How am I supposed to know?"
"What, like you thought after we spent all night doing it that we wouldn't sleep through the next day?" Xander asked hysterically.
"Truthfully, don't think I thought much about it, or wouldn't have done all this in the first place, would I?" Spike had gotten his jeans on, but when Xander met his eyes after pulling on a pair of cargo pants he dropped his t-shirt, plastered himself against the opposite wall and regarded Xander with a Must! Resist! face.
Xander pushed against his own wall and shook his head. "We don't have time for this. There's a meeting tonight, and it'll look weird if we don't show."
"It's odd if *you* don't show," Spike corrected him. "I've done my good deed for the week with that sodding box delivery, and until someone offers up more compensation to do more errand work for you lot, I'm my own vamp."
"Okay, fine." Xander said. He brought his hands up to rub at his face. "Just . . . can you not . . . that is, . . ."
"Don't worry," Spike muttered. "Won't tell anyone about your dirty deeds."
"Uh . . . thanks," Xander said after an awkward pause.
Spike gave him a dismissive wave and headed for the door.
"Wait . . . Spike?" Xander called, his voice trembling.
Spike turned back and looked at him intently, waiting. "Yeah."
"I . . . just . . . you . . . Angel said thanks," Xander finished weakly.
With a snort, Spike made for the exit once more.
* * *
"Perhaps we ought to run through the recent developments to start with," Giles said.
" 'Kay. Glaz'broth clans?" Willow asked.
"Check," Buffy replied absently. "Angel said he had the solution, and since it doesn't involve slayage, I'm more concerned about the new nest of vamps on the south side."
"Vampires," Xander put in. "You can't trust them further than you can throw them. Oh, sure, they say they had a bloody good time, and then they just take off like . . ." He trailed off as he realized that everyone was regarding him curiously. "Stake 'em all," he finished, and Buffy shrugged.
"Glad we have your go-ahead. You want to come along on this dusting expedition?"
"Sure, yeah," Xander said hastily. "Will?"
"Can't," Willow said. "I have to finish packing for the Wiccan Unification Summer Session. Three more days before two months of magic and fun in the sun!"
"Still trying to get my head around a Willow-less summer," Buffy said with a small smile. "Definitely go ahead home and get ready so that we can have a great time at your send-off tomorrow night."
"By all means, take care of your preparations," Giles agreed. "Though I find myself wishing the departure date were further off so we could keep you with us, at least we can look forward to your return all the sooner."
"You know I'll write and call and send you eerie astral projections of me frolicking by the pool," Willow said cheerfully. "Plus Oz'll bring back full reports when he visits every couple of weeks. So no need for the sad."
"Yeah, well, I'm not big on the idea," Xander said. "Especially now."
Buffy and Giles exchanged glances as Willow turned to Xander. "Wait. You're not? What's the what with now?" Willow asked.
Xander threw up his hands. "I . . . now . . . nothing. But isn't there a later session or something? Sure, you want to get your magic on, but did you ever think about *our* needs?"
"Xander," Buffy said softly. "We've been through this. Willow needs to connect to the coven-thing, and we all get the benefit of her skill-improvement.
Plus the summer's always a slow time. Better she take care of this now than have to take a semester off school and leave us high and dry during heavy-traffic evil season."
"I should think you'd be happy for Willow and the good she'll accomplish as a result of this experience," Giles commented.
"This isn't just about protecting the people and the volume of distress signals and blah-dee blah," Xander said in frustration. "What about me? I haven't had to cope with a no-Willow situation in forever. I have needs, important Willow-specific needs. Don't tell me that doesn't matter in the greater scheme of things."
"But Xander, you're the one who said it was a good idea after we talked it through. You were all, 'And high time, too,' and 'do some spells for me!' when we spoke about it last. You were the one who said I shouldn't worry about aban doning Oz for a few months while I did this. And, you even said 'Don't worry about me . . . you're due for some quality non-Hellmouth time.' I mean, did something change?" Willow's brow wrinkled in confusion.
"Damn your near-perfect recall," Xander said finally. "No . . . nothing's changed . . . much. You're right, Willow. Sorry."
"That's okay," Willow said. She nodded, but her eyes studied Xander's face as though she was searching for some hint to his unexpected outburst. "*You* okay?"
"Sure," Xander said. He shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny. "Just feel . . . I don't know, like I'm coming down with the flu."
"Well, we can't have you getting sick when there are important bon voyage parties in the works," Buffy said. "Why don't you skip patrol and I'll see if Angel is lurking around?"
"Yeah, okay," Xander said.
"You want me to mix you up some medicinal herbs?" Willow asked. "Where are you sore?"
Xander opened and shut his mouth several times. "Uh . . . nowhere special. Kind of all over. And nah, I don't want to eat a bunch of dried grass. Probably just could use some sleep. I'll, uh, catch you all tomorrow night at the Bronze." He gave them all a half-wave, and left quickly.
"Okay, did anyone else think that was weird?" Buffy asked.
Giles frowned. "It did seem somewhat . . . I wonder . . . Has anything occurred recently that would have precipitated Xander's change of heart?"
"Not that I can think of," Willow said. "But I have been kind of preoccupied with leaving town."
"Haven't noticed anything myself," Buffy added. "Maybe we'll get more of a clue tomorrow night. Or maybe he's just grumpy with flu, and he'll be our sunshiny Xander again at the party."
"Well, then," Giles said. "I suppose we'll just have to wait and see."
* * *
******
Part Five
******
Xander congratulated himself when he got home that night, since he'd made it there without stopping by Spike's crypt.
It had been some convincing to get his feet to go the right way, and he'd actually had to turn around when he found himself at the cemetery gates, but he'd made it. Home free, Spike free. He tried to ignore the pang in his chest when he entered the empty apartment.
When he got up the next morning after a night of tossing and turning, and watched an infomercial about the *Quik Time Salad Shooter!*™ instead of calling Spike on the vampire's recently-acquired cellphone, he celebrated by eating two pieces of chocolate cake for breakfast.
He cursed the chocolate cake and his apparently continuing-flu soon after, however, when he spent the next hour throwing it up.
Afterwards, he actually took a bath instead of a shower, though that meant he had to scrub the tub first. He wasn't big on cleaning generally, rationalizing that if the soap got him unsmelly and presentable that it couldn't hurt the shower much. Of course, needing to fill the bathtub meant confronting the ookyness of the tiles.
Bath finally drawn and taken, Xander perched on the edge of the tub and sweated a little in the humid bathroom. It had helped a little with the overall soreness, though not so much with the sore-in-new-places from his all night bout of first time man-sex with Spike.
Of course, thinking of that novel soreness made him think of Spike some more, and for reasons unknown to Xander that led to him holding the phone receiver in one hand with the other hovering over the keypad. So to combat that he dragged his worn-out, nauseous self to bed, where he was finally able to catch some shut-eye.
Of course what he'd meant to be a short nap turned into waking up with only an hour to go before Willow's bon voyage party at the Bronze. The time shortage shouldn't have been an issue. He knew there'd be food at the club, so eating dinner wasn't a problem (though the thought of any kind of edible stuff made him feel more queasy). The idea that choosing what he'd wear would present a problem was laughable, since he didn't much care what he had on his back as long as comfort abounded. But for some reason when he went to get out cargo pants and a t-shirt, his limited clothing selection made him feel. . . sad. After sniffling on the bed for a good half hour, and asking himself when the hell he'd become such a big sissy girl, he finally pulled himself together enough to make it out the door.
* * *
Xander pushed his way into the crowd, searching for his friends. The noise and tumult around him made his head swim a bit, but he figured as soon as he sat down he'd be okay. The problem was trying to find everyone and sit down ne ar *them* before he slumped into some random sofa. Hell, never mind the sofa -- even the floor was starting to look pretty comfy right about now.
A good thing among other good things about Willow was that she was easy to zero in on even in the Bronze when a good band brought out wall-to-wall people -- just look for the cute, often flippy, red hair. Sure, someone else might guess Oz's hair would be the standout mark, but Xander knew that a placing a bet on a single color for Oz's spiky locks was a losing scenario.
"You made it!" Willow exclaimed with evident relief when he got close enough. "I thought you weren't going to, but Oz said you would come for sure, and Buffy thought . . . oh my goodness, Xander!" Her happy expression rapidly shifted to one of concern as Xander swayed on his feet.
"What's wrong?" Buffy asked loudly as she rushed over to help. Together they pulled him over to an available couch.
"It's no problem, guys, seriously. Just the flu, or whatever," Xander said. He sat back against the cushions and tried not to think about the way Buffy's face was blurring in front of him or how Willow's nervous hand clutching his arm was starting to feel like a faint touch.
But just then the noise of the dance music and the shouts and murmurs of everyone around him faded to silence. He did, however, hear Oz say quietly, "There he goes," just before he blacked out.
* * *
When he came to, he was lying on the Summers' living room couch with everyone hovering around him.
"Okay, Xander, you need to tell me what's happened to you in the last forty-eight hours," Buffy was saying firmly.
"What the what now?" Xander asked. "It's . . . I . . . why . . . Buffy, what the hell are you talking about?"
"Buffy thinks this might be something, um, supernatural," Willow said from her perch on the chair beside the couch. She patted Xander's hand reassuringly, but her eyes were troubled.
"Forty eight hours ago was around the last time that any of us really talked to you. Or at least, talked to you before you got all weird, like you were last night" Buffy explained. "If something did happen, I'm guessing that it went down in that time frame."
"I did not get all weird," Xander said hotly. But the combination of no food and the return of the earlier nausea wasn't really helping him sound righteously indignant. Plus, he suddenly had a hard time following the conversation, getting only snippets of the words spoken around him.
"You seemed upset last night, Xander, not like you--"
"Didn't you say Giles was the one who talked to--"
"Maybe Angel knows what to--"
"Might just really be sick--"
"That's it," Xander said, grasping on to one of the comments that he heard in the mix. "I'm just really sick. Nothing odd or out of the ordinary. And no supernatural whoosis for me. All kinds of normal here."
"Xander," Buffy said quietly, kneeling down so he could meet her gaze.
"Yeah," he managed.
"When was the last time you were sick? Cold, flu, stomach upset, anything?"
"Um . . . " Xander tried to think.
"Xander doesn't *get* sick," Willow put in.
"He does have a strong constitution," Oz said.
"Right," Buffy said seriously. "So I'm putting money on the something odd or out of the ordinary, okay? Even if you don't think so, Xander, I say it can't hurt to check."
"When is Giles getting here?" Oz asked.
"Soon," Buffy said. "When we called he said he'd see if he could scrounge up anything to take the edge off whatever this is and then head over. Plus I'm hoping that he'll know where to start looking for triggering events or demon thingies. Since he saw Xander two nights ago, before whatever this was started, maybe he can tell--"
"Spike," Xander said weakly.
"Spike?" Willow asked. She raised her voice a little. "Spike's not here, Xander. It's just us, see?"
"Spike was the one," Xander began, then pulled up short. However sick he felt, there was no way he was letting loose with the details of what exactly Spike had been the one to do.
"Think he means he *saw* Spike two nights ago," Oz suggested.
"Oh yeah," Buffy said slowly. "Angel said something about the two of them . . . and a delivery?"
Willow nodded, and stood up. "I'm calling Spike too. Maybe he can help us figure out what happened to Xander, or at least where to start asking questions."
And before Xander could make a protest, Spike was summoned, and Xander was given crushed ice to suck on.
* * *