Pairings: primarily Spike/Xander, secondarily Angel/Xander, some Xander/Cordelia
Setting: Season 2, few days after "School Hard"
Rating: Mostly R, but gets to NC-17 for sex and violence at places
Feedback: Please, please, please
Disclaimer: Nothing belongs to me; all belongs to Joss and Mutant Enemy and anybody else who actually makes money off this stuff - certainly not me.
Warnings: m/m sex, het sex, character death, sexual violence, rape
Summary: Spike has a plan, sort of; Xander is just a meal, at first; Angel plays superhero, and fails; can the three of them live in this world and not kill each other?
Chapter 1 HERE
Previously on Backfire:
Neither moved. Something fired in Xander’s brain and he twitched. The vampire twitched back and pulled his fangs out of Xander’s neck. Spike was suddenly two steps away from him and Xander slid down the wall and brought his hand up to his neck. He looked up at Spike and saw two sparkling blue eyes piercing down at him. Somehow he found himself still angry.
“You done?” He asked. Spiked nodded. “You aren’t gonna kill me?”
Spike just grinned. “See you again soon, yeah?”
“Oh, you bet. Anxiously awaiting that encounter.” Xander snarked back.
Then Spike was gone and Xander was left sitting in his side yard with blood dripping from his neck through his fingers. He was pissed off, and tired, and weak, and hot, and confused, and…oddly satisfied. Then he panicked.
Chapter 2 - Panic
Angel was sitting entirely too close to Xander. Granted, he was about three feet away, but it felt way too close. They were both reclining on the middle step of the stairs in the library, the set closest to Giles’ office. Xander couldn’t remember who had sat down first, but now he couldn’t concentrate on what Giles was talking about because Angel was sitting way too damn close. Okay, so the concept of concentration has flown out the window this last couple of days, but I’m trying, I really am. Plus, the dead guy kept looking over at him. He could practically feel the cold eyes burrowing into his head. But whenever he would turn to glare back at him, Angel would quickly look back out at the other people in the room.
And…okay, wait, is he even closer to me now? Angel’s shoulder wasn’t touching the railing anymore. He was sitting more in the center of the stairs. Xander had had about enough of this.
He deliberately turned toward Angel and was about to open his mouth to say something when the vampire closed the distance between them and was sitting mere inches away.
“I have to ask you something,” Angel whispered without actually looking at Xander.
On the other side of the rectangular table in the center of the room, Giles had his easel out with some sort of demonic family tree displayed on it and was trying to explain something about something and it was all just so fascinating. Xander could tell by the backs of everyone’s heads that they were just as riveted as he was.
Xander leaned away from Angel as much as he could, “Personal space, Deadboy. Did they not have this concept two hundred years ago? Not looking to make-out with you.”
“This may sound a little strange but…” The vampire trailed off, seemingly searching for words.
Xander was just pissed off and impatient now. He had been twitchy all day, and Angel pulling this weird secretive too-close crap was just making him twitchier. “What?” He hissed out, still trying to stay quiet so no one would turn around and see them sitting this close together.
“When Spike bit you-” (Xander went cold) “-how much blood did he take?”
Xander had stayed in panic mode for quite a while after Spike had disappeared. He had pulled himself up out of the dirt and ran to his door, feeling his pockets frantically before discovering his key was still in the lock, exactly where he had put it just a few minutes (How long? Five minutes? Ten? An hour?) ago.
He scampered inside as quickly as he could, cursing himself for not doing that when he had first put his key in the lock. How, exactly, did I end up by the side of the house, anyway? How did he grab me? How could I be such a moron? Did I let this happen?
He locked himself in the bathroom, turned on the bright overhead light, took his shirt off and inspected the bite mark in the mirror. He saw two distinctive holes in the space where his neck met his right shoulder. They were dark and there was a slight discoloration of his skin around them. That’s going to be a nasty bruise. There was also some blood, but not as much as he expected to see.
Then he noticed the bruising starting to take shape on his upper arms, then on his wrists (it was going to be really bad on his wrists). Dark color was also spreading on his shoulders. He used a small hand mirror to look at his back. He couldn’t see anything different yet, but knew the evidence would show up soon since he could now suddenly start to feel it all over his body. The pain was really starting to come into focus now. He hurt all over. He felt like someone had…well, he felt like a vampire and tossed him around then took a bite out of his neck.
Then he looked himself in the eyes. And he got really scared. All he saw staring back at him was a frightened little boy. He was just a small town comic book geek who had somehow gotten himself mixed up with a super-hero chick and spent his days adding demonology to his school curriculum and nights trying to help battle said demons and most of the time not being very successful. And, ladies and gentlemen, let’s use tonight’s little suck-fest as a slap-in-the-face demonstration of why I…suck.
Xander reached over and hit the light switch, engulfing the room in darkness. He sat down on the toilet seat and stared into the nothing. Perhaps it’s just best if I don’t think about this anymore tonight. But the way his body felt was not going to let him just stop thinking.
He bowed his head and looked at his hands. As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, he was able to see that they were covered in dirt and grime. Then he felt that dirt and grime creep over his whole body and into his skin, and he never felt so filthy in his entire life.
Without switching on the light, Xander pulled the rest of his clothes off quickly, trying to ignore the drying spunk on the inside of his jeans, and jumped into the shower, turning the tap to as hot as he could stand. With a funky old washcloth and a tiny sliver of soap, he scrubbed every inch of his body hard, including the bruised areas and the bite mark (even though that hurt like hell).
Xander didn’t know how long he stayed in the shower. It only occurred to him to get out when the water started getting cold. He made quick work of drying off, then gathered his clothing, crossed the hall to his bedroom, dumped his clothes in a pile at the end of the bed, and buried himself beneath his covers. He prayed that sleep would overtake him, and before he could say amen, he was asleep.
He slept for two seconds. Or at least it felt like two seconds. When he awoke, it was quarter past eight. He had forgotten to set his alarm and was now late for school.
And the memories of the night before…well, they took less than two seconds to come flooding to the front of his brain. He sat up and his body screamed at him. He had never been this sore.
For several more minutes, Xander sat on his bed. He took slow deep breaths and lightly rubbed the muscles that hurt the most. His bruises were turning pretty (disturbing) colors and his wrists looked like he had smeared them with black paint. He reached into his nightstand, got out the bottle of Advil he kept there, and dry swallowed four pills.
Okay, here goes. He swung his legs over the side of his bed, stood up slowly and planned his strategy for telling the others what had happened as he got ready for his day, choosing a collared shirt with long sleeves as his hide-all-the-evidence-of-the-real-world-f
Perhaps “strategy” wasn’t really the right word. He would just tell them what happened. Spike got him. Slapped him around a bit. Bit him. And let him go. That was really all the happened. Right? Xander didn’t know why Spike had let him go, but that was for Giles to figure out. And the rest of it…no. There was no rest of it. Spike bit him. A long…slow…bite. A long slow bite that curled Xander’s toes. A long slow bite that made his blood surge to very wrong places of his body. A long slow bite that made him…no. The rest of it didn’t really happen. Not really. And the crumpled sticky pair of jeans on the floor at the end of his bed was certainly no evidence to the contrary. Nope.
Xander arrived at school just when the bell dismissed second period. He quickly got lost in the crowd and then managed to keep his brain text-book oriented for the next two classes before meeting the gang in the library at lunch.
By the time he had finished the telling of his dramatic little vampire encounter, and everyone was done with their “Oh, dear Lord” and “Oh, Xander!” and “I’m gonna kill that son-of-a-bitch just a little more than usual,” he finally felt that he could put it behind him. Giles was going to ask Angel if he knew of any reason that Spike wouldn’t have killed him, and Buffy said she would target her patrol to flush out Spike. Willow cried a little, and Xander had to reassure her that he would be extra-specially careful. He promised not to go anywhere at night alone until William the Bloody was dust under the carpet.
All in all, he felt better. He had taken two more Advil just before lunch, and he had the support and protection of his very best friends, so everything was going to be just fine.
It wasn’t until his last class of the day (the stupid science test that he forgot to study for) that he noticed that maybe everything wasn’t fine. He couldn’t get his mind to focus. He could barely finish reading one question on the test before his mind wandered. And he wasn’t thinking about Buffy in that short little skirt she likes to patrol in. And he wasn’t thinking about the supple curves covered by that tight cream-colored sweater that Cordelia was wearing. And, no, he wasn’t even thinking about the Babylon 5 mini-marathon on the Sci-Fi Channel this Friday.
He was thinking about the bite. That bite. He was replaying it over and over again. Remembering things that he couldn’t have noticed at the time. Like how cool Spike’s breath had been when his mouth opened. And the sharp pain as his fangs had glided into Xander’s skin. It had been so easy, so smooth. Like a warm knife through butter, although that sounded cliché. He remembered how, as his body went white, the world had gone red, just for a moment, and how he had felt a kind of strange peace come over him. The moan that had escaped Spike’s throat that matched the moan that had escaped his own. Spike’s body pressed against Xander’s. And, oh god, I can still feel it. Spike’s cool body against mine. His skin getting warmer, hotter, or is that my skin?
And I came. Fuck, that really happened didn’t it? And, oh God, so did he. Didn’t he? I think he did. I know I did. I’m so screwed up. There is something seriously wrong with me. Oh, great, and now I’m hard again. Right here in the middle of science class. Perfect. Why is this happening to me? I can still feel him. Why can I feel him? His mouth and his body and his teeth and his… *snap*
Xander looked down at his hand and saw he had snapped his pencil in half. Then the bell rang. He looked down at his blank test paper and cursed.
Now Angel was sitting inches away from him and asking him a really stupid question. How much blood had Spike taken? What did that matter? Xander pushed Angel away from him.
“How the hell should I know,” he answered as quietly as his angry voice would let him. “I haven’t really been thinking about it, you know.” Then he realized that was an odd thing to say. Why would Angel assume Xander had been thinking about it. Careful. I doth protest too much, Xander thought, channeling an inner Shakespeare he did know existed.
Angel turned his head and looked Xander square in the eye. The look was piercing and scrutinizing in that undead evil way, and it made Xander’s guts betray his no-doubt cool unyielding exterior by cowering into a little ball. Angel stared and Xander began to shake just a little. He hoped it wasn’t noticeable, but quickly realized it was.
“Now we both know that’s not true.” Angel’s voice was even lower and quieter than it had been before. Suddenly Xander was scared. This stupid dead thing knew. He knew what had happened, and how Xander had been feeling the last couple of days, and now he could feel the tears start to fall down his face, and he was embarrassed and ashamed and mad at Angel for seeing him and knowing him.
Angel reached out and touched the brilliantly purple bruise on Xander’s right wrist. The vampire then grasped him lightly by the elbow and guided him off the stairs and into Giles’ office. He set him down in the chair, handed him a box of tissue from the desk, then walked back out into the library, closing the door behind him.
Xander sat for a few moments before taking a tissue from the box and wiping his face. He threw the crumpled tissue at the trash can, missed, and then popped two more Advil from the bottle he carried with him at all times.
He sat there for what seemed like a very long time. He heard mumbled voices on the other side of the closed door, then he heard people leaving the library. Finally, Angel came back into the office with Giles immediately at his heels. Giles closed the door behind them. Xander looked back and forth from the vampire to the Watcher. He wasn’t really sure what was happening. He wasn’t sure how this next part was supposed to go. What was supposed to be said. Angel broke the silence.
“Xander, I have to ask you some more questions, and I need you to answer me honestly. I know it may be hard, but this is very important. I don’t want you to be embarrassed or ashamed. It’s just us men here. Okay?”
Xander was panicked. “Please don’t ask me, Angel. Please?”
Angel squatted down next to the chair. “It’s okay. You didn’t do anything wrong.”
Xander started crying again and did his best to hide his face from Giles who was cleaning his glasses and looking quite confused and concerned.
“Angel, if the boy doesn’t want to talk about it-”
“He has to,” Angel snapped back at Giles. “If what I think happened really happened then…” The vampire seemed to be searching for the next words. He shook his head slowly and turned back to Xander. “How much blood did he take?”
Xander wiped his eyes with another tissue and shook his head. “I don’t know.” Angel’s eyes narrowed. “Well, it’s not like I had a measuring cup! How am I supposed to know a thing like that?!”
“Just-” Angel started.
“I’m not dead, am I? That’s how much he took. He bit, he drank, he left. End of story.”
“How long did he drink?”
“Again, sorry I wasn’t forthcoming with the units of measurement. I didn’t clock him. He drank, okay? A lot. For…a while. For a long time.” Xander closed his eyes. He felt the teeth in his neck. He felt the pull of his blood as it left his body. He felt the hands on his wrists, and Spike’s body against his and the hardness pressed into his own, and now the desire began to build up in him. Again.
This desire, this heat, that had been engulfing him since science class the day before. It had been all he thought about. All he felt. He had masturbated six times in the last twenty-four hours and he still felt…unsatisfied. Restless. Twitchy. Empty.
He opened his eyes and looked at Angel. He hated this soulful vampire more now then ever before. He hated him because Angel knew what was happening. And why. He hated him because Xander Harris was about to ask Angel the vampire the very last thing he ever wanted to ask.
Xander took Angel’s wrist and growled out in anger, sorrow and desperation, “Will you help me?”
tbc in Chapter 3 - The Reason