Written for btvs_halloween as a gift for spikess.
Season 7 AU (assumes Spike and Xander got together after Spike returned from Africa. Spike is souled and de-chipped.)
Spike shows Xander the real meaning of Halloween.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the Series are the intellectual property of FOX, Mutant Enemy, and Joss Whedon.
This Fan fiction is written for fun, NOT FOR PROFIT. No copyright infringement is intended.
Xander kicked the door closed behind him, his arms full of bright orange
roundness, a swath of black clenched in his teeth.
“Sike? A ‘ittle ‘elp?” he grunted as he juggled packages. The unlatched door swung back open and hit him, causing the pumpkin to fall from his arms. He watched as it rolled clumsily across the floor to thump against Spike’s boot.
Spike dragged his eyes away from the television, where Jodie Foster was about to feed arsenic laced cookies to that guy, what’s his name, who played the president on The West Wing.
He looked up at Xander, seeing the bags full of Snickers bars and tubes of M&Ms topped with plastic Scooby Doo’s.
“What are you doing?” Spike asked slowly.
Xander spat out a mouthful of cheap black rayon, the fabric falling down to drape over his arms, and glared at Spike.
“Trying to close the door, Señor Oblivious. Thanks for the help.” Xander kicked back at the door viciously, slamming it shut, and dumped his purchases on the table.
Spike stood, nudging the pumpkin off of his boot. He walked over to the table and lifted a swath of the black fabric, scowling at the red satin lining. He picked a tube of candy, rattling the M&Ms inside.
“What’s all this, then?” he asked.
“Candy. Decorations. Costumes,” Xander answered, pushing past Spike to pick up the pumpkin, examining it for dents or bursts.
“Yeah,” Spike said, turning to look at Xander. “And it’s here, why?”
“Halloween?” Xander enunciated carefully. “All Hallows Eve? Candy Day? Remember? You said you’d dress up and pass out candy with me tonight, as long as it meant staying in?”
“I bloody well did not!” Spike said, staring at Xander in horror. He reached for his cigarettes, quickly lighting one and inhaling deeply.
“Yes, you did,” Xander argued, his fingernails digging into the sides of the pumpkin. “Last night. You very distinctly said, ‘Sure, pet, whatever you want.’”
Spike choked on a stream of smoke. “Xander, you had your head buried so deep in my crotch last night, I would have agreed to dress up like the Slayer and offer Rupert a mercy shag.” Spike’s glare grew darker as he saw Xander’s eyes light up with interest at that thought. “That was a sneaky bit of coercion, pet. Promises made while my brains are being sucked out of my cock don’t count.”
“Spike,” Xander said, his voice lowering, becoming deeper and darker and causing Spike to harden in his jeans and pissing him off at the same time, “you made a promise. You’re keeping it. That’s what having a soul means – agreeing to something and following through.”
“Bollocks,” Spike said, grinding out his cigarette and crossing his arms defiantly.
“You are putting this on,” Xander said, lifting one of two matching black and red Dracula capes, “and passing out candy. You can take out all of your ‘Halloween’s a soddin’ embarrassment to real demons’ frustration by growling and hissing at the kids. We’re going to watch scary movies, carve a pumpkin, drink beer, and then you’re going to screw me into the sofa cushions while just wearing this cape.”
“Like hell I will…wait, what’s that?” Spike shook his head, reaching out to yank the cape from Xander’s hands. “’M not wearing this piece of shit, bargain basement novelty cape. How many vampires have you seen, livin’ on the Hellmouth? Ever seen one wear anything this clichéd and tacky?”
“Well, Dracula,” Xander began…
Spike sighed. “Follow along with clichéd and tacky, pet. Not. Bloody. Wearing. It.”
“Spike,” Xander sighed, catching the cape that was flung at his head, “you know how bad this year has been…Willow coming down from the evil, you with the basement crazies, ‘from beneath you it devours.’ I’m just asking for one night of normal here, okay? I don’t think that’s too big a sacrifice for you to make.”
“Sacrifice?” Spike sputtered. “You’re telling me about sacrifice? There’s no end to things I’ve given up for you lot. Christ, Xander, I got a bloody soul, for fuck’s sake…”
“For Buffy,” Xander said quietly, heedlessly breaking their ‘that which we never speak of’ rule. “I need you to do something for me, for once.”
Spike went completely still. “Never done anything for you, have I? You’re going to forget the past few months because I don’t want to tart up in a cheap plastic cape to observe a holiday that’s totally devoid of meaning, except that it gives you an excuse to load up on sugar and pretend that the demons aren’t real?” Spike jerked his duster off the chair and shrugged into it. He grabbed his cigarettes up and stalked toward the door.
“Where are you going?” Xander asked, crushing the collar of the vampire cape in his hands.
“Somewhere where they remember I’m a demon and not some bloody dress-up doll,” he said, slamming the door behind him.
Another knock sounded at the door, and Xander decided that he had enough candy for the few kids left in the building and after this he’d just bring his Jack-O-Lantern in and turn out the lights. He opened the door and was too impressed by the black hooded figure in front of him to be irritated by the fact that, judging from their height, it was a teenager scamming for candy, something he’d never been too proud to do.
“Cool costume,” Xander said, digging into the candy bowl. “Hey – you’re in luck, I’ve still got one Scooby left, and that costume so deserves...” his words were cut off as a black draped arm shot out, grabbing him around the throat and yanking him against a hard chest.
Xander struggled against the arms that held him as a gag was shoved into his mouth and a blindfold was tied tightly over his eyes before he was spun around and felt rough rope cutting into his wrists as his hands were bound.
He felt himself being lifted and slung over a hard shoulder, and then nothing but steady movement as he was carried down the hallway.
He felt the jarring as they headed down the stairwell. No elevator to make this kidnapping quicker, he thought, ‘cause explaining to Trash Bag Darth and his cheap mother why you were carrying a hog-tied man in vampire costume was too wiggy for even a Sunnydale Halloween.
He felt the night air and heard laughing kids in the distance, and then he was being dumped into the trunk of a car and heard the lid slam down before the engine started and the radio was cranked, the sound muffled but the words clear. She went away for the holidays, said she's going to L.A. But she never got there, she never got there…
Oh, thank God, Xander thought, closing his eyes behind the blindfold. It is Spike.
Xander waited for the trunk to be opened and his punishment to be meted out, but instead heard the sounds of someone – Spike, please be Spike – walking away, and long minutes of dull thuds, followed by a hiss and quiet crackling.
Xander tried breathing shallowly and then felt his breath shudder in his chest when he heard footsteps nearing the car again. The trunk lid was thrown open and he was hauled out and set on his feet. Before he could steady himself and regain his footing he was being dragged away from the car and toward the crackling sound.
“Sike! Sike!” he choked out from around his gag, but his captor remained silent. Xander felt the heat suddenly and realized what was the crackling was. Except for the snapping of the fire, the night around him was quiet – no street noises, no voices, nothing but the snapping of flames and the quiet crunch of a step behind him as his gag was removed.
Xander swallowed several times to get the taste of the gag out of his mouth and to steady his voice. “Spike, this is way beyond a prank,” he said, his voice tight with anger, still able to see nothing but the inside of the blindfold.
“Not a prank, love,” Spike answered quietly behind him, and Xander felt himself relax a bit, real fear gone but giving over to real anger. “Giving you what you wanted,” Spike continued.
The blindfold was removed and Xander’s eyes widened at the roaring bonfire in front of him. The firelight illuminated the small clearing they were in and cast long shadows against the trees that surrounded it.
They stood so close to the fire that Xander’s face burned with its heat and his eyes squinted against the glow. He felt hands fall to his bound wrists, tugging him back slightly and he turned his head peering over the high collar of his vampire cape to see Spike.
Spike walked slowly around to Xander’s side, the black robe draping the vampire’s hands, the dark hood shadowing his face, hiding his eyes and revealing only full lips that quirked up on one side as he smirked at Xander.
“What you wanted, innit, love? Night of darkness, of magic and spirits?” Spike stepped closer and Xander tried vainly to see those familiar blue eyes beneath the cover of the robe, trying to figure out what this was, searching for that teasing glint.
“You wanted All Hallows Eve,” Spike said, coming around in front of Xander and blocking the fire. “So I’m giving you the real thing. Samhain.”
Xander frowned, his confusion deepening. “Sow-in? What the hell is Sow-in?”
“Samhain,” Spike said, his voice lowering to a husky growl. “The day that belongs to neither the old year or the new. No distinction between years…no distinction between worlds.”
He reached up, brushing a hand, blessedly cool after the heat of the fire, against the bare patch of skin between the tie of Xander’s cape and the neck of his t-shirt. Xander shivered and unconsciously leaned into the familiar touch.
“It is at Samhain that the veil between worlds becomes thin, and the dead may pass between the worlds freely. Walk amongst the living,” Spike said, his hand sliding across Xander’s chest and stomach to suddenly grasp the waist of his jeans, jerking Xander closer. “But you see that every day, don’t you love?” he breathed against the skin of Xander’s neck.
Xander’s breath sped up when he felt the ridges as Spike shifted to vamp face, fangs rending the neck of the black t-shirt Xander had ‘borrowed’ from his lover. Spike spread the shredded shirt open, his nails dragging lightly across Xander’s chest.
Xander shivered despite the heat from the fire as Spike’s hands slid around his sides, ripping the back of the shirt and tossing the pieces away. Hands rubbed across Xander’s back now, chill bumps rising beneath the cape as Spike’s fingers followed the waistband of his jeans around the front to slowly pop the buttons of Xander's fly open.
“Old ones believed the dead could be appeased with offerings,” Spike said, his hands sliding beneath the open jeans to push them down Xander’s hips, smiling when he realized that Xander had gotten completely into his vampire character and there was nothing between denim and skin.
Spike slid to his knees, shoving the jeans down further and unlacing Xander’s boots. He pressed his face against Xander’s quivering stomach, pulling the boy harder against him as he jerked the boots from Xander’s feet. “Sacrifices,” he said huskily, the word fluttering against the tender skin beneath Xander’s navel.
When Xander was bared to the night but for the fluttering black cape, Spike stood, pushing the hood of his own robe back slightly to meet Xander’s shocked stare. “In the old times, they thought that if these sacrifices weren’t made, the unhappy dead would cause…mischief.”
Spike licked his lips, settling his hands on Xander’s hips. “Don’t want to make the dead unhappy, do we love?”
Xander slowly shook his head, his eyes not leaving Spike’s. His body burned, both inside and out, the ropes around his wrists dug into his skin and he was so hard, so aching, and Spike was so close. Xander groaned, unable to touch, and Spike laughed softly, moving closer and rubbing his robed body against Xander’s.
Xander clenched his jaw and hissed behind gritted teeth as he felt Spike’s body, hard and tantalizingly naked beneath that robe. “Spike,” he moaned, falling forward against him, his body yearning, wordlessly offering himself as cool hands continued to glide over his skin.
“Offering has to be made, Xander,” Spike said, drawing his robe off and spreading it on the ground next to the fire. “Sacrifices of fire…blood…life.” He reached behind Xander, ripping the bindings from bloodless wrists and drawing his hand back to extend it to Xander. “Will you give it, love? An offering to the night in thanks for all the year has given you?”
Xander looked down at the hand that was held out to him and then reached for it, his fingers closing over Spike’s. “I offer it,” he said, and then jerked Spike to him, his head lowering to take Spike’s lips in a rough kiss. Spike moaned into the kiss, his mouth opening, teeth biting at Xander’s lips, drawing blood and then licking it away.
Spike broke the kiss, tugging at Xander’s hand. “C’mon,” he said, low in his throat, and then drew Xander down to the robe spread in front of the fire. Their lips met again, warmed by fire and want, Xander offering his breath and body with every groan, Spike answering back with soft words that were swallowed in each kiss.
Spike’s lips followed Xander’s jaw to his neck, down across his chest to nipples that stiffened in autumn hair and shuddered beneath a mouth warmed by Xander’s own. Spike raised his head, his hands following the dancing path of firelight on Xander’s skin, looking up at Xander and seeing lips that gleamed wetly in the light and eyes that reflected flames.
Spike smiled, head lowering again to Xander’s warm skin, his mouth opening in soft, sucking bites across stomach and hip until it closed over skin harder and hotter than the rest. Xander’s thighs jerked against Spike’s cheeks, knees lifting to grip at smooth muscled shoulders and Spike’s mouth opened, taking all of Xander in.
Spike’s lips closed around the base of Xander’s cock, his tongue fluttering lightly and then licking firmly, causing Xander cry out and grip handfuls of the robe beneath them in his hands. Spike slid his mouth slowly up Xander’s length, sucking hard at the glans one last time, before he raised his head, his voice quiet as he met Xander’s eyes. “Offer yourself, Xander. Offer yourself to me.”
Xander’s head fell back, his eyes closing as his legs drew up, spreading open to the warmth of the fire and the heat of Spike’s gaze.
“Yes,” Spike breathed, his hand reaching back beneath the robe, his eyes never leaving Xander’s wanton pose. “Sweet boy. Beautiful, like this. So open, so unafraid.” Spike slipped the small tube from inside his robe, spreading slick, warm wetness over his fingers and then slid them into Xander’s body, sighing as he felt the boy tense and then fall back, opening to him again.
“Spike,” Xander groaned, reaching for the fingers that pressed inside him. “Enough. Want you now. Need to do this.”
Spike’s fingers stilled. “Need to do what, love?” he asked softly.
“Need to show you,” Xander said, reaching up to pull Spike against him. “Giving myself to you, offering myself to you. Freely.” He met Spike’s eyes as their bodies met. “It’s something you can do…for me.”
Spike arched back, his body pressing into Xander’s, hotter than ever before, warmth beyond all imagining. Xander surged up against him, his mouth finding Spike’s as their flesh met again and again. Spike pulled away slightly, his fingers tightening around Xander’s hips as he quickened his thrusts, sliding out and then slamming back, seeing the cords in Xander’s neck stand out as his head was flung back, a breathless, “Yes,” falling from open lips.
Spike slowed, falling back against Xander, grinding their bodies together slowly. “And on Samhain,” he said, his lips pressing kisses against Xander’s jaw, his throat, “the veil between worlds is thin and the night is given to divination, to deeper sight, seeing beyond this world. Look into the fire, Xander,” he commanded softly. “See the truth there.”
Xander turned his head toward the fire, looking past the flames and seeing the shadowy images that were thrown against the encircling trees. His breath caught in his throat as he saw the shadows of their bodies, twisting together in the light, two shapes twining into one as they were reflected against the woods around them, reaching up into the night.
“Yeah,” Spike whispered, looking down in Xander’s wonder filled face, “that’s us. You offering yourself so sweetly, me giving all I have back. That’s what we are, tonight and all nights.” His hand dropped between their bodies, sliding against Xander’s slick flesh, teasing and then tightening, driving Xander toward the place Spike was so close to reaching.
“Now, love,” Spike said, his body frantic against Xander’s, slick with the boy’s sweat and diving in again to hide in that heat for as long as he could, “give me everything. Offer it all to me.”
Xander’s hips jerked beneath Spike, his cock sliding faster in the tight grip of the vampire’s hand, his breath hitching as he came, warm living proof of his love, his life, coating his stomach and Spike’s. “God, Spike,” Xander cried. “Love you.”
“Love you, too, Xander,” Spike gasped as he squeezed his eyes shut, light brighter than any bonfire bursting behind closed lids as his body gave itself up to Xander’s, forcing air from his lungs as he breathed, “Love you, love you,” against warm, living flesh.
Their bodies curled into one another, turning away from the fire a bit as their breath settled and the heat inside them died down.
“So,” Spike asked, pressing a kiss against Xander’s hair. “Still pissed about the thing with the blindfold?”
Xander laughed softly. “Nah,” he said, meeting Spike’s lips and kissing him sweetly. “I like the way you say, ‘sorry.’” He grew quiet, his eyes following the shadows the fire cast against Spike’s pale skin.
“Spike,” he said eventually, his eyes still on the smooth perfection of the vampire’s chest, “I’m the one who’s sorry. You know, about the whole Halloween thing. I shouldn’t have asked…I mean, yeah, I love it, still trying to be a kid, here, but I didn’t realize that it was some kind of…undead holy day. I didn’t know it was a religious thing, all that stuff about the veil between worlds and that’s why you’re all so respectful…” he trailed off as he felt Spike shaking with laughter against him. “What?” he asked, pulling back to look at Spike.
Spike shook his head, chuckling. “Xander, my sweet innocent, I was turned in Victorian England.” Xander looked back at him blankly. “I grew up in the Anglican church, pet. Church of England. I’m no more a druid than you are.”
Spike snickered harder at the confused look in Xander’s eyes. “All that rot about Samhain? I went over to Red’s tonight and looked it up online. Just wanted to give you your Halloween jollies and maybe shag you outside, next to a fire, see all that pretty skin glow.”
“You mean all that stuff about sacrifices and offerings and seeing the truth in the fire…you looked that up on the internet?” Xander asked, pulling away from Spike.
Spike muttered at the loss of warmth and jerked Xander back to him. “Yeah. And damned hard job finding anything useful. It was all sodding harvest festivals or irate Christians wailing about evil pagans.” He laughed again. “Kind of funny, that. All this bluster about the wee ones dressin’ up like demons and gettin’ candy really twisted the holy knickers, you know? Figured anything that pisses off that many people has to be worth celebrating.”
“Spike…” Xander groaned, not sure whether to laugh or storm off in a snit.
“Oh, give over, Xan,” Spike said, grinning at him. “You liked it…creepy robe, gettin’ tied up, hot lovin’ down by the fire…and the stuff about you offering and me giving back all I have? Meant that,” he said quietly.
Xander looked at him, smiling softly. “I know.” He kissed Spike then, just lips pressed together, almost holy in its quiet gentleness. “Love you.”
“I know,” Spike answered against Xander’s warm lips. “Happy Halloween, love.”
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