Fandom: Pairing: Buffy: Spike/Xander
Rating: R for language
Words: 600
Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Vamped!Xander
Summary: A set of twenty six 'mood drabbles', in alphabetical order.
Notes: Written for [info]fall_for_sx.

An Alphabet of Feelings


A is for Agitated

"C'mon, Spike! It's almost dawn already!"

Xander claws ineffectually at the bone-deep itch that stretches from shoulder to ankle, the length of his left side. He knows the buildings opposite will protect them for at least another half an hour, but it's driving him crazy and even vampire strength won't let him get a good hard scratch going on, not without shredding the sleeve of his favourite jacket. And maybe his flesh.


Brakes squeal. Bundles of over-inked paper thud on the pavement. Spike dives out and snatches up a new TV Guide.

"Stop your whining. We can go now."

B is for Breathless

She watches from a darkened doorway, serendipitously downwind. She doesn't really understand what she is witness to.

Two men, one dark and broad, one pale and lean, stand in moonlight, silver slivers turning line and plane and form into marble art.

Their kiss goes on forever. Mouths joined as one, no space to pass a breath of air between them.

On and on and on. Ravenous. Romantic. Ridiculously hot.

She inches closer, drawn by the power, the passion, the perfection of what she sees. She's envious of the languor and the lust. The love.

Then the wind changes.

She's lunch.

C is for Calm

Spike cannot find the words to adequately describe how he feels when that little red witch tries to stitch his Xander's soul back on.

He's accustomed to a flood of rage when someone tries to hurt what's his; he's used to hungering for revenge, for gratification of the violent persuasion. Blood has curdled in his veins beneath the wash of fear that what is his will soon be gone, beyond his protection.

He's not used to this.

This is pure ice and clear-headed thinking. This is a plan that won't fall beneath the wheels of his impatience.

This is calm.

D is for Drunk

"But… You were completely hammered when you kidnapped Willow to do that love spell on Dru. I know I had a concussion but you were the one slurring your words and getting all wet and weepy."

Spike keeps loading crates of hijacked alcohol into the trunk of the Desoto, one ear tuned to the road and the sound of rapidly approaching sirens.

"I'd been pouring industrial strength rotgut down my neck since Brazil, you daft git, of course I was drunk! Had no blood in my alcohol stream, did I? But, you want to get drunk, I'll get you drunk."

E is for Enamored

Spike didn't realise the size of the problem until Xander came home with a jacket like the Captain's, yards of fake gold braid carefully stitched to the red fabric - a gift for him.

Enough was enough.

"I didn't mind when you started watching the show. I didn't mind buying you the boxsets and watching them with you every week for three months. I didn't even mind too much about the stupid little action figures you've got tucked under the bed where you think I won't find them, but I am not dressing up as Captain John Hart while we fuck!"

F is for Fascinated

Spike never tires of watching Xander stalk his prey.

On city streets he's pretty rent boy, affable student or stumbling drunk. In smaller towns he's clueless tourist, earnest salesman or smoky-eyed drifter. On the long, deserted highways that stretch between the two, he's the one they all stop for - floppy-haired and big-grinned, as harmless as a puppy and twice as cute. Even in the parks - Yellowstone, Yosemite, Acadia and all the rest - he fits right in, all fluid limbs and flaring nostrils, wild hair and wilder eyes; a predator on the prowl.

Spike never tires of watching. How could he?

G is for Gross

Xander prodded the bags of blood lined up on the kitchen tabletop.

"Do I have to? Really? It's so…"

"Gross. I know, luv. We covered that with the 'eeeeew' and the gagging sounds you made when I told you what I was planning. And yes, you really do have to do this. You're not always going to be able to get the good stuff on tap; you need to be able to tell if the bagged shite is contaminated or too old or just plain 'off'. There's a bag of cow in there too, and one of dog. Start tasting."

H is for Helpless

Xander takes an unholy pleasure in tormenting some of the rougher specimens he picks from the smorgasbord of prey that passes obliviously through their lives. He's usually careful to remain unseen, but with these he lets himself dance just on the edge of being noticeable, on the edge of shadows, looming with intent. He'll take days, sometimes, stretching out his mark's last nerve until they snap and run.

There are moments when Spike wonders if he has a budding Angelus on his hands, but mostly he thinks he's stuck with a goofy, very vicious puppy. And he's okay with that.

I is for Insecure

Sometimes, when Xander is off doing other things and unlikely to come back to find his sire being maudlin, Spike thinks their shared insecurity might be the glue that holds the two of them so very tightly together. Oh, he'd deny it to his dusting day and so would Xander, but they each have a need for constant validation, reassurance, for blatant proof of love.

It amazes him how well they fit together, how similar they are. It terrifies him how easily they might have missed each other; Xander just another Happy Meal drained along the way, if not for…

J is for Jealous

Even with the soul glued on, his sire had seen something in Xander, something familiar that he knew would call to Spike. It actually explained a lot. Including how out of sorts Angelus had been when Drusilla wouldn't stop going on and on about losing her kitten with a sad and lonely poem for a face.

They'd known magic was involved somehow - nothing else could turn Dru against her Daddy like that - but when the spell was broken, she hadn't given up, just changed her tune slightly, begging now for Xander as a brother, not for herself but for Spike.

K is for Kindly

Xander may be the strangest vampire Spike has ever known. The Master was deluded, Angelus is a megalomaniac, Dru's insane, Darla was a real controlling bitch, and Penn was religiously psychotic, but Xander… Xander commits random acts of kindness for people he should rightly see as prey.

He picks up flowers and trinkets for the little old lady down the hall - says she reminds him of the grandmother he'd met just once, when he was a kid.

He opens doors for women, gives his loose change to the homeless on the street.

Spike despairs, even as his love grows stronger.

L is for Livid

"He was beating them, Spike! Look at them! They're covered in bruises. One of them's bleeding internally, I can smell it. The littlest has a broken leg; I heard the bone snap as I was passing by the house. I couldn't just leave them there."

Spike stared in disbelief at the tangled heap of skinny limbs and knitted throws on the sofa.

"You do remember that you're a vampire, don't you, pet? Or did I miss the part where you got bit by a rabid social worker?"


"I let you keep the kitten, Xander. You're not keeping the kids."

M is for Manic

The bouncing knee was a big clue, as was the way Xander was flip-flip-flipping through the TV channels almost too fast for the snow to clear on one before he was moving on.

"Xander, what have I told you about eating speed freaks?"

"That I shouldn't. And I didn't, Spike! No more junkies for the Xanman, you made that clear. Anyway, the comedowns sucked like a sucky thing."

The knee was still bouncing, the channels still zipping by.


Xander sighed. "The barista at Joe's criticized your hair."


"He tried to cut me off from the chocolate-coated coffee beans…"

N is for Nervous

"She's not going to freak, is she, Spike? I mean… I know she wanted me for herself when that whole love spell thing went wrong, and she even got rough with Angelus to keep him off my back. She's not going to hold a grudge about any of that, right? I know she's your dark princess and all, but Dru still scares the crap out of me."

Spike straightened Xander's collar and reeled him in for a short sharp kiss.

"You're family, luv. She won't do anything… terminal, won't even leave a scar if she breaks the skin."

"Wow. Reassuring!"

O is for Obscene

"How can they do this? It's obscene, Spike. They've got Sylar playing Spock, and you know they only cast him for those stupid funky eyebrows. Didn't they learn the lesson with 'Enterprise'? Messing with Star Trek history is a huge mistake, people can get rabid over shit like this!"

Xander thrust the latest copy of Entertainment Weekly at Spike, who decided silence was the best course of action. He gently eased the magazine out of Xander's white-knuckled grip and opened it at random.

"Hey, did you know about the new Stargate franchise?"

"Oh, don't even get me started on that!"

P is for Playful

Xander bounced on his toes as his latest snack staggered from corner to corner of the badly lit alley Xander had chosen as his corral. Blood dripped lethargically from the thrice-bitten, masticated flesh below the man's chiselled jaw.

Humming happily, Xander edged closer to the wall on his left, and a ghost of a hope of escape sprung to life in his quarry's eyes. He watched, amused, as powerful thigh muscles bunched in preparation for a doomed headlong dash for freedom.

"Stop playing with your food, pet. We've got better things to do."

The food startled and ran. Xander pounced.

Q is for Queer

Sometimes they like to play the victims for a change of pace. They lure their prey in with perceived vulnerabilities, weaknesses; the equivalent of red rags to a bull. There are areas of every city, of every town, where the sight of two men walking hand in hand is easily enough to get them chased down and beaten, raped, stabbed, maybe even killed.

They always end their frantic flights in dark, deserted parks or empty, crumbling buildings; some place quiet, some place open. They let the hunters split them up and circle round, and then they strike.

They always win.

R is for Relentless

Xander doesn't shut up until Spike agrees they can go out for Hallowe'en. Later, Spike thinks it was maybe a mistake to choose Bayville Scream Park as their destination.

They enjoyed vamping out to the surprise of the 'zombies' and 'vampires' of Bloodworth Manor. Spike lost count of how often they'd been asked who did their makeup. Curse of the Zombie Pirates was a nice little stroll through the miniature golf course, where they could snack with impunity.

And then there was Uncle Needles' Funhouse of Fear.

In his defence, Spike hadn't known about Xander's rampant coulrophobia.

It got messy.

S is for Shaken

They know something powerful is happening, though they don't know what. They feel the magic crawl like ants across their skin when they venture out beyond their strengthened wards, and then it hits them.

It feels like Slayer, everywhere, and it lasts about a day before it fades to a dull tickle at the base of the skull which never quite leaves.

Spike is totally unprepared to step outside and find Xander fighting not just one but three identical girls, Slayer energy pouring from them all along with rage and confusion and bone-deep fear.

Spike almost doesn't react in time.

T is for Tortured

Spike wants to hunt down Willow, the vicious bitch, and make her pay for every slightest hint of pain she's caused his Xander as she keeps on trying to stick his soul back on. But he knows her power is growing again. He hears she smells of corruption, of sulphur and pitch, carelessly masked behind a tissue-thin white-witch gloss.

She's too strong and ill-tempered now to be near his boy, and he flatly refuses to consider leaving Xander behind, so instead he sends word to Angelus, knowing Dru will catch the scent and go a-hunting for her favorite little tree.

U is for Unstable

Spike believed that Xander had somehow escaped the 'curse' of Aurelius, the one that touches its victims in the head and leaves them slightly off-kilter, a step out of synch with the rest of the world.

And then he drinks down his first - and second - completely stoned hippy, and when the acid hits, Spike finds he's got another, admittedly less-crazed, seer on his hands.

"She used an axe, Spike, a huge shiiiiiny axe, to cut the Slayer line into itty bitty pieces. Tweedledee and Tweedledumber want to stick it back together, but they never will. The dolls are free now."

V is for Venal

It's amazing what people will happily fail to notice when you've got enough cash in your pocket to bankroll a South American coup and a habit of tossing around $50 bills like confetti.

They spend a week at the Waldorf Astoria, New York, New York, bankrolled by the late, unlamented Frederic Ziegler and his diamond collection. Dinner is delivered to their door every evening - a brace of pretty young things, clean and sweet-smelling, innocent but eager for what bounty they can earn up in this rarefied eyrie.

The same service disposes of the leftovers, for a small fee, of course.

W is for Wanted

It's there in every biting kiss and gentle brush of lips, in every greedy grasp and fragile fleeting touch. It's there whenever Spike looks Xander over from head to toe and then smiles, slow and sinful. It's there when Spike talks proudly of 'his boy' to friends and strangers alike.

But it's also there when he fucks it all up; when he loses control, or the car, or the money, or the last living witness to their latest escapade. It doesn't matter what he does, or if he does it wrong, Spike still wants him.

That want leaves him awed.

X is for Xenophilia

Halfway through a Sci-Fi marathon, Spike looks at Xander and, instead, sees Drusilla, his dark princess, the one who'd left him for a slime-and-antlers chaos demon.

His boy's always been attracted to the not-quite-human. Having a demon of his own just made his tastes more Catholic.

In B5, his favorite is G'Kar - "I'd lick the spots off him, any day." In Farscape it's D'Argo or Bialar Crais. In Star Wars, Han is still his hero, but he talks of Chewie's fur tickling while they fuck.

And then Spike blinks and it's Xander again, including Spike in every kinky little fantasy.

Y is for Young

Spike can't remember being as young and puppy-like as Xander when he was first turned. There's a reason for that.

He spent his time keeping track of Dru's dollies and her fancies, her fripperies and herself, beneath the watchful, vengeful eyes of queen bitch Darla and her preening pet Angelus.

The rules were written in blood across his lily-white skin; enforced with iron, with rawhide, with bone-deep agony. He knew exactly what they were, even as he broke them.

Xander vaguely understands there are rules. He trusts Spike to let him know if he skates too close to breaking them.

Z is for Zen

Spike knows he's always been viewed as a loose cannon by anyone who's known him more than a day or two. He knows he has a tendency to go off half-cocked, shooting himself in the foot and screwing up his carefully laid plans more often than not.

Xander has changed all that.

Oh, he's still wild and reckless. He's still prone to hair-brained schemes and flights of fancy, bouts of manic violence and gleeful destruction. But he really is more careful now. He has Xander to consider: his center, his heart, his Zen place amidst the fury of the world.

Thanks to [info]entrenous88 for the suggestion of 'Venal' and [info]shakatany for 'Xenophilia'.

Mini-nanowrimo word count: 2958

The End

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