Road to Poofdom


by
Bytemi66



Part Four



Randy rolled over and handed the lube to Alex.

"First things first," he said, pulling Randy towards him, cuddling him and kissing him softly. Alex couldn’t help but think that, from all appearances, they’d been together for awhile. But, since he didn’t remember that, he was going to do his very best to make sure that this time, the first time being inside Randy during his new, abbreviated memory, was as special as possible.

He kept his touches gentle and caring, hands sliding over Randy’s face, through his hair, down his back. Kissing each eyelid in turn as they fluttered closed. He ran his hands down to his partner’s ass, feeling the moisture that was still there from his tongue. Alex pulled his lover’s thigh up with his left hand and placed it over his own hip, spreading Randy for better access. He moved his hand back to the moist crevasse and stroked.


~*~*~*~*~


Alex was such a gentle, considerate lover. The emotions this man made him feel were surging inside of him. He undulated against the man, running his hands over the warm, tanned body, gripping his biceps. Kissing. Kissing constantly. Wet, gentle, thorough kisses. He loved the way those rough, calloused hands felt stroking him, touching him. Owning him. At the first touch of the fingertip against his hole he pulled back from the kiss, gasping, "Yes. Oh Alex, now, please. Hurry."

Alex reached over and coated his fingers with lube and continued the stroking. Randy whimpered and tucked his face into the crook between Alex’s shoulder and neck, his hand coming up to tangle in the thick mop of hair. He licked Alex’s earlobe, took it into his mouth and sucked it, then nibbled it. Moving down his neck licking and kissing. When the first finger slid into him, he latched onto Alex’s neck with his blunt teeth and sucked. He could hear Alex breathing in his ear and feel the hot breath on his neck.

The dark-haired man rolled them so Randy was on the bottom. Randy let go and admired the purpling love bite on Alex’s neck. He wanted to make more, but Alex pushed his thighs up, pushing his back into the mattress. He hooked Randy’s legs up over his shoulders and put a pillow underneath his hips. He added more lube and inserted another finger. Randy groaned and thumped his head against the pillow.


~*~*~*~*~


Alex loved the feeling of that tight coolness gripping his finger, the soft, fluttering sensation of the surrounding muscles, the tiny, soft grunting noises from his lover. When he rolled them, he couldn’t help but admire Randy; his garter belt had scooted down, and his hard cock lay on top of it. One of the stockings had come loose and slid down his thigh.

He brought Randy’s legs up onto his shoulders, relishing the roughness of the nylon against his skin, loving the kinkiness of the high heels, which by some miracle had stayed on. He slowly pressed a second lubed finger in and watched his lover’s reaction. His own prick was turgid and drooling, eager to be inside.

He leaned down to Randy, gently grasping his lower lip between his teeth and pulling slightly, only to release the kiss-swollen lip and move down to give the same treatment to each nipple in turn. His fingers continued to pump in and out. He scissored them, loosening the grasping channel.

God, those noises; Randy was breathing hard, whimpering, and mewling. The noises interspersed with "Alex", "baby", "please" and "yeeeesssss."

Randy’s slicked channel began to warm from the friction. He added a third finger. Harder to get the third in; it was just so damned tight. He wiggled his other fingers trying to get it in. Whoa. Big reaction there.

"Bloody hell!" Randy shouted, his back arching off the bed. His hands flew up and grabbed the maple headboard with such force that it creaked. "Do that again!"

"You mean this?" Alex asked, demonstrating.

"Ungh! Christ, yes! J-just keep doin’ that!"

"Don’t want me to put my dick in there? See how that feels?"

"Yes! Now! Hurry the bloody hell up!"

Alex tsked. "You’re such a backseat driver."

He coated his cock completely, better too much than not enough, he figured. He slid home.

Randy’s eyes rolled up in his head and the headboard actually cracked from his grip.

Alex stopped and babbled rapidly, "Don’tmovedon’tmovedon’tmove." He panted to get under control. The grip of Randy’s ass around his dick was incredible, tenacious, overwhelming. It was a whole fucking thesaurus of unbelievable rightness.

He looked down at Randy, who was struggling not to move, the muscles in his chest, arms and neck bulging from the exertion. "For the love of Christ, move," he ground out.

Alex chuckled as he pulled out and slid back in, angling himself to hit the same spot he had with his fingers. He groaned, saying, "You keep mentioning God in my presence. You a religious man?" he teased.

"What can I say, luv? Your cock makes me want to kneel down in worship."

Alex leaned forward to kiss Randy. "I feel the same way about your ass." His left hand reached under, cupping said ass and squeezing. Alex stayed in that position, pumping steadily, firmly into that glorious ass.


~*~*~*~*~


If everybody could feel this, the whole fucking world would be gay, Randy thought. He could feel the sweat dripping off Alex and rolling down onto him, making his skin slick. The new angle had trapped his penis between Alex’s flexing abdomen and the garter belt. The friction from the scratchy lace against his sensitive foreskin and the heat and pressure from the body above him was incredible. Not to mention the cock inside him, skewering him open, hitting that wonderful spot inside of him on almost every stroke, making him see sparks and fireworks behind his eyelids. His left leg slid down off Alex’s shoulder due to the pounding, and his shoe-clad foot bounced with each thrust.

Alex began to speed up, going deeper, plunging harder. His eyes locked on Randy’s. He felt so connected; it was almost like they were two parts of the same person. Heat. Desire. Love? Could all that really be there in Alex’s dark brown eyes?

He was so close. So close. Just. A little. More! Randy’s orgasm hit hard. He shot his load up so it hit his chest and chin and Alex’s chest. The sensation caused him to kick his leg out. The shoe flew up in an arc…and took out the bedside table with a loud crash. Alex followed, yelling out his completion.

As they lay there, panting in the dark, Alex spoke, "Was it, huh, whoo boy, g-good for you, too?" He gave a wheezy laugh.

"Bloody brilliant."

They laid in the dark recovering, basking in the afterglow. Alex pulled out gently, the sensation causing them both to moan in unison. He slid down and rested his head on Randy’s chest and took his hand in his, stroking the palm with his thumb. The phone, now off the hook, made a persistent ‘EH, EH, EH’ noise, but eventually stopped. After a few minutes Randy spoke, "I guess we should check out the shower, luv. We’re a right mess."

"Yeah," Alex replied, kissing the blond’s belly. He got up, saying, "Wait here, I’ll turn on another light. Wouldn’t want you to get glass in your feet." He felt his way around the wall, found the overhead switch, and turned it on. "It looks like the light bulb didn’t shatter; just the base is broken and luckily it’s in several big pieces. Bad news though; ding dong the shoe is dead." He held it up by the broken heel for Randy’s perusal.

"Acceptable losses, eh?"

"Most definitely."


~*~*~*~*~


Alex reached down and took off the other shoe, dropped it on the floor, and held out his hand. Randy took it and they walked hand in hand to the bathroom. He took a moment to figure out how the shower worked, started the water to let it warm up, and then knelt down in front of Randy. He undid the garter clasps. As he rolled the stockings down and off, lifting each leg in turn, he rubbed his cheek against the smooth, almost hairless skin on Randy’s inner thighs. He reached up and pulled down the belt and tossed it with the hose.

They stepped into the shower together, gently touching, softly kissing, but not speaking. They spoke volumes with their eyes.

After they got out, Alex went ahead into the bedroom and stripped off the soiled bedspread and threw it on the floor. He just moved the broken lamp out of the way, not in the mood to go look for the trash container. He didn’t bother to put the phone’s receiver back into the cradle; he didn’t want them to be disturbed. Finally, he made sure the heavy drapes were shut and turned to see Randy. He looked so cute; a little bit of smeared eye makeup remained around his eyes and his hair was wet and rather curly.

He turned off the light and they tumbled into bed, too spent to do anything else but cuddle and whisper endearments into each other’s hungry ears.





Part Five


A/N: This chapter contains obvious references and general misuse of Rocky Horror.

Spike knew the moment the spell had ended. The actual bloody second. He hadn’t been able to sleep; so keyed up by the emotions still stirring from his night of passion with Alex. Xander fucking Harris. He had sex…and liked it, with a stupid, idiotic, human boy. His first impulse was to jerk away, fling vitriolic abuse, and stalk out of the apartment.

But then Xander snuggled closer, spooning him. The arm wrapped around his waist and pulled him against his body tightly. Then warm breath, warm words in his ear, "Mmm. Randy." Those warm lips pressed against his neck in a sleepy kiss, a hum of satisfaction behind it. Whispered, "Love you." Spike clenched his teeth. The boy was obviously still sleeping; dreaming about their night together, if the not-so-soft prick in between his asscheeks was any indication.

It felt like his dead husk of a heart was being squeezed. Why him? Why now? He really shouldn’t be too surprised. Randy was much like William had been, sans wig and lacy knickers. William had been so soddin’ wet, he’d practically left a trail. Thank all that was unholy that the spell had lasted less than twenty-four hours. A couple more days with ‘Alex’ and he would have been spouting poetry. And if history was any indication, really bad poetry.

He made a decision. He’d ride this out, a really poor choice of words, until the boy woke up. After all, when was he likely to feel closeness like this again, even if it was magically induced? Not any time soon. Not from Buffy.

When he’d kissed her he had felt so much; it was like the fuckin’ ‘Hallelujah Chorus’ and ’Seventy-six bloody trombones’ all at once. But she had tasted, had felt, like greed, and sorrow, and desperation. Before tonight he could have deluded himself. But not now. Xander’s kisses were full of feeling -- genuine feeling, need, and raw desire. Even a little love, maybe?

Xander moved again behind him, rubbing his soft hair against Spike’s back. Spike sighed. So, no, he wouldn’t leave tonight. Tonight he would stay in a soft, warm bed cuddling with a soft, warm boy. He grasped the hand against his chest and held it.

He would soak up every drop of love and affection he could. He had no delusions, though; the spell was broken…over. He had no doubt that the boy would revert back to hating him, probably more vehemently than before. And the hatred would be returned. Probably.

He wasn’t a stupid vampire. He knew that loving Buffy, wanting her, was wrong. He knew that Buffy would never want him or love him. She would just use him and kick him when he was down. Dru had used him, after all. Oh, she’d cared for him, perhaps loved him in her own loony way, but Angelus always came first. He was simply made to scratch an itch when Daddy couldn’t get to it. Harm he’d used, but she had used him in return. "Wah, wah, wah, France. Wah, wah, wah, Blondie Bear." She was just a convenient, if noisy and annoying, body to fuck.

Buffy would never love him. It was funny how he could accept that now. Rather perturbing, actually. ‘Cause it meant that he had seen something better, something real, in the arms of a brown-eyed boy. He didn’t want to settle for something less. Not anymore. But could he accept it from Xander? If it were offered, that is. Not much chance of that. No, tomorrow the walls would come up and the closet would close. For both of them.


~*~*~*~*~


Xander became aware of the pounding on his front door slightly before the cooler-than-normal body next to him.

"Yeeeeeeeaaaaaaaaaaaaccckkk!" he shrieked, flinging himself backwards off the bed and into the wall.

His front door burst open with a loud ‘CRACK!’ as Buffy kicked it in, and Willow, Buffy, Dawn, Giles, and Anya rushed through – right into the bedroom.

Xander only had a fraction of a second to grab a pillow and hold it in front of his groin.

"Buffy!"

"Xander!" she shrieked.

"Spike!" Xander shrieked, pointing with his free hand at the pale man in his bed who was wearing a cat-that-ate-the-canary expression and absolutely nothing else.

"Xander!" Anya cried out in surprise and horror.

"Anya!" he shouted back.

"Xander?" Willow queried, eyes wide.

"Wills?" Xander whined. Then he made a whimpery sound and slid down against the wall to the floor, clutching his pillow. "I–I–I a-a-and Sp-sp-sp…" he began to sputter, his voice getting higher and higher with each syllable.

"Do calm down Xander," Giles said, in a futile attempt to calm Xander down. "Just take a deep breath and let it out slowly."

After Xander did as Giles suggested, all eyes turned toward the lone figure on the bed. Spike arched his eyebrows, pursed his lips, and stretched. The sheet inched downward indecently, displaying the bruises and love bites scattered here and there on his torso.

Willow said weakly, "We tried to call first…"

Buffy put her hand over Dawn’s eager eyes and began to yell. It was something she was quite good at. "What the hell is going on? What did you do?"

Xander found his voice again, even if it still sounded rather hysterical, "You can ask that? Can’t you tell? I just screwed the sweet transvestite from transsexual Transylvania! Ha, ha!" He covered his face with his hands.

"Hot damn, luv," Spike added from the bed. "I think you’re sweet, too," he added, laying the sarcasm on thickly.

Xander thumped his head against the wall, looked up and saw Anya. "Hands! Hands in new places! Holy mother of Zeus! Why are you and Giles holding hands?" He began to wave his hands about frantically, the movement causing the pillow to shift slightly. He grabbed it back, desperate to have some sort of barrier between his family jewels and the rest of the room.

Dawn wrenched Buffy’s hands from her eyes to look at Anya and Giles. "Yeah. Why are you two holding hands?"

Anya looked up at Giles anxiously. He sighed, resigned, and began to speak, "Well, Xander, it seems there were several new developments last night, and, well, that is, to be specific..."

"Aging here!"

"Right. Anya and I have realized we have feelings for each other. We appreciate that this is not the most opportune moment to discuss it, but we are now together, and Anya intends to break your engagement."

"Yes, Xander. It’s true. I love Rupy…"

"Rupy?" the room echoed, disbelieving.

"…and he loves me. But it has nothing to do with your performance in bed."

Spike saw an opening. "Yep, at least the lad knows how to kiss." He tossed the comment pointedly at Buffy. She winced. So did Xander.

Unfortunately, Anya saw that as an opening. "Oh yes, Xander is a very talented lover. He gave me many good orgasms. How many did he give you last night?"

"Three."

Anya nodded, obviously impressed. Giles began to clean his glasses. Buffy blanched. Dawn’s mouth turned up in a wicked teenaged grin, and Willow began to chew her lip and stare at the floor.

Xander groaned and thumped his head again, "I thought I said ‘no more butt-monkey’!"

"I’m fairly certain that was me last night," Spike said, twisting on the bed.

The wicked teenaged grin got wider.

"For the love of god, shut up!" Xander yelled at him.

Spike continued, "Well, as much fun as this has been, I feel like I’ve been rode hard and put away wet. I’m going to take a shower."

"Spike! You didn’t go to bed with your makeup on did you? That’s very bad for your skin. Cosmo said that one night in makeup ages your skin seven days," Anya supplied helpfully. "However, ejaculate is full of protein and is quite good for your complexion."

Spike gave Anya a pointed look and said, "Cover your eyes, Nibblet."

Dawn covered her eyes as Spike stood up, completely naked, and walked unapologetically into the bathroom. She parted her fingers just enough to see his ass, covered with finger-shaped bruises, as he walked past. She eeped.


~*~*~*~*~


Spike could hear all hell breaking loose in the bedroom. He turned on the shower as hot as he dared and stepped under, hanging his head under the spray as he gripped the walls. He’d needed to get out of the room more than he needed the shower. Needed the distance. Even though he’d prepared himself, Xander’s reaction hurt him. He hit the wall with the heel of his hand and cracked a tile. Hurt. Him.

He was angry because it wasn’t Buffy he was obsessed with now; it was Xander.


~*~*~*~*~


Xander was numb. It was just too much. He’d slept with Spike. And liked it. A lot. Anya and Giles were together. Anya was leaving him. Just...too…much. He could hear Anya rambling in the background.

"And that’s when we realized we should be together. I’m sorry, Xander. It’s just that so much happened when we were under the spell. You’ll always be my first love and hold a special place in my heart, but, you weren’t ready for commitment. Not really. Rupert is everything I’ve ever wanted in a man; handsome, kind, loving…financially stable." She continued, "And as a bonus, like a free gift with purchase, he’s really terrific in bed, too! Joyce was right; he is like a stevedore." Her face practically glowed.

Wasn’t that just fucktastic.

"Again with the stevedore?" Buffy cried. "What the hell is a stevedore?"

Anya opened her mouth to answer, ever helpful, but Giles cleared his throat. She took the hint. Wow. He was already better at Anya-wrangling than Xander had been.

But then she started again, "But, you’re gay now. Like Willow."

He cringed.

She continued, speculating, "Is it contagious? It seems to happen a lot with you people. I’m not going to breathe gay air and all of the sudden wake up one morning not liking men, am I? Is there a pill I can take? A lozenge? Because I really like men’s penises and it would be a shame to have to learn about new equipment all over again."

"It’s not contagious, and I’m not gay."

"Well…"

"No."

"But…"

"No."

"Maybe…"

"No."

Anya took a breath, but Giles forestalled her with a hand on her shoulder. Damn, he really was good at that.

Xander interrupted, "Where’s Tara, Wills?" He was desperate for almost any distraction from his situation at this point.

Buffy answered for her. "Tara left her, moved out." Buffy’s tone was rather clinical and matter-of-fact. Willow seemed to cave into herself.

"But, why?" he asked, truly surprised. They’d seemed so solid; so perfect for each other.

Buffy answered again. "The magic. The spell. Willow did it trying to erase my memories of my death and heaven, and Tara’s memories of her anger over Willow’s magic use."

"That true, Wills?"

Willow nodded, looking down at the floor, unable to meet her best friend’s eyes.

"Just…how could you? How could you do that to us? To Tara? To me?" He felt so betrayed.

As Willow took a deep breath, he prepared himself for the onslaught.

"I didn’t mean to Xander. I just loved Tara sooo much, and I felt so bad about what happened to Buffy, and it was all because of me! I thought I could make it better, make Buffy be happy again, make Tara stay," she trailed off. "I just wanted to make everything better."

"For you. You wanted to make everything better for you. Well, is it? Is it better?" Xander lashed out, breathing hard. He held up his hand as Willow tried to speak. "I know you’re hurting. I know you’re sorry. But I can’t deal with this right now. Not from you. I’d like you to leave Willow. I need some time to deal, and I can’t do that with you here."

Willow turned and left, dejected.

Spike burst forth from the bathroom in a cloud of steam, thankfully, with a towel around his waist. "Xan---boy. You got anything ta wear? Seems some horny bloke tore my dress off. I need some togs."

"Top drawer." Xander looked away, trying to look at something, anything else. Unfortunately, the only thing in front of him was the messy, unkempt bed. The bed in which they had… He swallowed hard, and looked down at the pillow clutched resolutely in front of him.

The rest of the room stood in silence, unsure how to react.

"Anything in here that doesn’t appear to be radioactive?"

"Second drawer."

Spike rooted through the drawer, tossed a few rejects over his shoulder onto the floor, and finally found something in a dark color without a superhero on it. He grabbed up a pair of sneakers from the floor and returned to the bathroom to change, slamming the door behind him.

Xander continued to sit on the floor, trying desperately to stop the tears that were filling his eyes. He would not cry. Not till everyone left. The others continued to stand there in silence, obviously uncomfortable with the situation, and shifted from foot to foot.

The bathroom door slammed open with such force that the doorknob smashed through the drywall and stuck. "It’s been just loverly. Ta ever so for the hospitality," Spike ground out angrily. "Where’s the redheaded witch? I wanted to thank her…personally."

"She left. Just leave Spike. Please. Just leave," Xander’s voice croaked out.

Spike left with as much dignity as overly-large sweatpants and a T-shirt proclaiming ‘Carpenters like to nail things to the wall’ could provide. It wasn’t much.

After Spike left, Xander covered his eyes and asked quietly, "Could everyone please go home?"

Everyone answered in the affirmative, and Anya asked if she could gather a few things to take with her. Xander agreed.

Xander continued to sit on the floor long after everyone had left and Buffy had propped the door against the frame. He wondered, briefly, what the neighbors must think; they must have overheard. They hadn’t exactly been quiet today. Or last night.

He sat. He sat till his ass hurt from the carpet pile biting into it. He sat as the digital clock changed, counting the minutes. He sat. He sat.





Part Six

"Do you think Xander is gonna be okay?" Dawn asked as they were walking home.

"It may take awhile Dawn. It’s an awful lot to deal with. Anya dumping him for Giles. Just wonder at that weirdness. I mean daddy-complex much? But then again, technically she is over one thousand years old, so it’s almost cradle-y robber-y when ya look at it like that..."

"Eww. I so do not want to talk about the Anya-Giles sexcapades, thank you very much. I meant about the whole Xander being gay and playing ‘hide the salami’ with Spike."

"’Hide the salami’? First you research and now you think you’re mature enough to use tacky sex euphemisms?"

Dawn rolled her eyes. She was pretty good at it; practice makes perfect. "Off-topic much?"

"I don’t know. I never thought that Xander was gay. Maybe he isn’t. He never gave off a ‘gay vibe’."

"Yeah. Lots of straight guys summon musical theater-obsessed demons."

"I don’t know, Dawn," Buffy sighed.

"Anyway, seeing Xander and Spike there, together; that was just…wow."

"Yeah, the two of them together, who woulda thunk it?"

"Well, they always did fight a lot. Maybe they had a lotta repressed sexual tension." A new thought crossed Dawn’s mind. "God, it must have been soooo hot - the two of them together."

They both stopped and stared out into space. Buffy recovered first.

"Oh my god! Tell me you aren’t thinking about the two of them having sex!"

Dawn smirked.

"You were! You so totally were! Stop it! I can’t handle you thinking about hot, sweaty, gay, man-sex!"

"Hot, sweaty, gay, man-sex?"

"Ugh! Don’t say that!"

Dawn rolled her eyes again. "Why not Buffy? We learned all about alternative lifestyles in health class, like, eons ago." She began to enumerate, "There’s analingus, anal penetra-"

Buffy interrupted, "Do not finish that thought. That leads to a whole new world of ‘ewww’. I think it’s fair to say that I can live the rest of my life without hearing you saying analingus."

"How about fellatio?"

"Ack! No!"

"Cunni-"

Buffy slapped her hand over Dawn’s mouth. "Do not finish that sentence if you want to be allowed to come out of your room before you’re thirty."

Buffy removed her hand.

Dawn huffed, "Geez, I’m just talking about it. It’s not like I’m actually doing it." She glanced out of the corner of her eye to gauge Buffy’s reaction. "Yet."

"That is it! The first thing I’m gonna do when we get home is buy you a chastity belt."

"For Pete’s sake, Buffy! I’m fifteen, not ten! Plus, I don’t think you can get those anymore."

"Betcha I can. You can find almost anything on eBay."

"A used chastity belt? Ewww."

"Hush, or I will!" She mused to herself, "Maybe a muzzle would be better."

"A chastity belt and a ball-gag? Kinky."

Buffy gave up.


~*~*~*~*~


Xander cried; great wracking sobs that shook his entire body. When he finally stopped, spent and exhausted, he got up from the floor rather shakily. He had pins and needles in his ass and legs from sitting for so long. He looked down at the rumpled bed. Flashes of blue eyes and tousled blond hair. He began to angrily strip the linens. Smooth alabaster skin. Tender touches, soft words; he couldn’t stop the images from rolling through his mind. He wadded the sheets up, got a laundry basket and tossed them in. He took the basket into the living room and put it next to the off-kilter door so he could take them down to the laundry room.

When he went back into the bedroom he noticed the bedspread. He began to breathe harshly, angrily. He stalked into the kitchen and got a garbage bag and stuffed it in. Xander decided he needed a shower. I gotta wash that man right outta my hair, he thought. The thought caused him to choke down another sob.

God, he felt like Sybil; emotions see-sawing all over the place. Maybe a nice, hot shower would relax him and help him to calm down his frazzled emotions. That decided, he walked into the bathroom, not bothering to un-embed the doorknob from the plaster so he could close the door.

Spike had left him a little present; the stockings and garter belt were hanging over the shower rod. Xander’s face slid into a stony glare. He ripped the stockings and belt down from the shower and all but ran into the kitchen. He forced them down into the garbage disposal with an almost maniacal glee. When he flipped the switch, his mouth turned into a mockery of a true smile. His hands gripped the edge of the sink so hard his knuckles were white. He watched and listened with perverse satisfaction as the lingerie was devoured by the disposal.


~*~*~*~*~


Spike was trapped in the basement laundry room. The day was too bright and Xander’s building didn’t have sewer access. The irony did not escape him. From one of the boy’s basements to another. He paced back and forth. He had to get the kid out of his head. What the fuck was wrong with him? Going from the slayer to the inept white knight. He jumped up and sat on one of the dryers. God he wanted a fag. A cigarette. He wanted a bloody cigarette. He scrubbed his hands over his face.

It never did take much for him to throw himself headlong into someone. He could remember the day when he fell for Cecily. She’d smiled at him. Saw him from across the garden and smiled, her face lighting up. Because of him. Unfortunately, it wasn’t him she was smiling at. It was Nigel Blackthorne, her second cousin, who happened to be directly behind him. By the time he found that out, it was too late; he was already smitten.

This time it was Alex/Xander. Only Alex really had been looking at him, or rather, at Randy. Fuck, this was so bloody confusing. He hadn’t thought about a man in this way since he’d been a ruddy teenager. And then, he hadn’t known what the feelings meant, just that they made him different. So, he’d latched onto any female face that he thought had looked his way.

Such feelings, such leanings towards the same sex were most definitely not accepted. Not in Victorian England. His father had been a stern man; incredibly strict. No deviation from what was ‘proper’ was allowed. He’d been told it was his responsibility, his duty, to follow in his father’s footsteps by taking over his business, and to marry in order to carry on the family name. Despite his love for his father, he’d been somewhat relieved when he’d died. It was only then that he was allowed to indulge in his love of the written word. His Mum had even encouraged it. Encouraged the whole Cecily debacle as well.

When Dru had turned him, it became a non-issue. She had saved him, made him so much more than the quiet mousy poet he had been. Over a hundred years of not thinking of a man in any way but a quick meal, and now a moronic boy had turned him into a pansy overnight. He began to pick at the red nail polish furiously.

Fuck. He couldn’t believe he was dredging up ancient soddin’ history. Christ, even Buffy hadn’t tied him up in knots like this. He jumped down from the dryer and kicked it, putting a rather significant dent in it. "A goddamned human boy!"

A young man who was loaded down with two baskets of dirty laundry dropped them in shock. "Sorry, man. I, uh, didn’t mean to disturb you. I’ll just, uh, come back later. Okay? Bye."

"Wait. What time is it?"

The young man, mousy and already sporting a rather obvious comb-over, froze in place. "W-what?"

"The time. What’s the bloody time?"

He looked at his digital watch. "Um, 6:33."

"Close enough." Spike brushed past the man and left the laundry room. The sun would be low enough now that he could make a dash for the sewer entrance across the street.

By the time he reached his crypt, he’d made a decision. Come hell or fucking high water, he was going to get this out of his system. He was not going to let one pretty human boy do this to him. No. No more. The boy didn’t want him? Well, he didn’t want him either. So bloody there. He went into the lower chamber and changed his clothes. Time to put on something less comfortable. He wadded up the t-shirt and sweatpants and threw them in a corner.

He couldn’t calm down. It was like there were ants under his skin. He hated feeling like this. Hated not being in control. Hadn’t been in control for a long time; bloody chip, bloody Scoobies. Going from one shitty situation to another. He punched the stone wall. Fuck. He really had to stop beatin’ on the masonry.

He found the half-empty bottle of Jack on the table. Good. Just the stuff to keep body and no soul together. He flopped on the bed and turned on the radio, not trusting himself to the silence.

Of all the things I believed in
I just wanna get it over with
Tears warm behind my eyes, but I do not cry
Counting the days that pass me by
I've been searchin' deep down in my soul
Words that I'm hearin' are starting to get old
Feels like I'm starting all over again
The last three years were just pretend
And I said...
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything
That I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
I used to get lost in your eyes
And it seems that I can't live a day without you
Closin' my eyes, you chase my thoughts away
To a place where I am blinded by the light
But it's not right
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything
That I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
And it hurts to want
Everything and nothing at the same time
I want what's yours and I
Want what's mine
I want you
But I'm not giving in this time
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
The one thing that I tried to hold on to
Goodbye to you
Goodbye to everything that I knew
You were the one I loved...


Spike chugged the bottle and smashed it against the wall.

"Goodbye to You" by Michelle Branch





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