Sat, Jan. 9th, 2010, 10:19 am
Afraid of a Little Fire
1 Afraid of a Little Fire?
“Happens I got rid of the chip.”
Xander's gaze darted around the shop, skirting over the owner, dead between the bookcases. Why'd it have to be me, picking pick up magic stuff tonight, he wondered. But no, if Spike's going to kill anyone, I'd rather me than Willow. Although, since he's already eaten, maybe he'd just leave?
“What? Not gonna run?” Spike asked. Xander glanced at the door, knowing he wouldn't make it that far. “Oh, come on. It's more fun if you run.”
“Ha, you're a poet and you don't even know it,” Xander replied with a bit of grade school mockery. Hey, fighting wasn't going to work, maybe distraction would.
“What?” Spike looked pissed.
And, OK, maybe that wasn't the way to go.
“Enough playing,” Spike said, stalking towards him.
Xander grabbed one of the lit candles and held it out towards Spike, who jerked back. Huh, Xander wondered and then he remembered: vampires, highly flammable. Waving the candle towards Spike, he asked, “Afraid of a little fire, scarecrow?”
Spike rolled his eyes and blew the candle out.
2 Cold as Ice
“Climb into that coffin, pull the lid over, and you'll be set for the day. Even if somebody comes into the crypt, it'll look all normal like,” Spike said.
“It's not a coffin,” Xander replied. It was an obvious delaying tactic but it worked.
“A coffin is a wooden box, that gets buried in the ground. This is a big stone... thing, that's laid out in a crypt. Not a coffin,” Xander said.
“Look, I don't care what you call it. Just climb in and go to sleep. Sun's almost up and we've got a big night ahead of us tomorrow,” Spike said.
“But I'm cold,” Xander whined.
“Course you're cold. You're dead,” Spike replied. “Now go to bed.” As Xander hesitated, he added, “You won't notice the cold once you're asleep.”
Xander climbed into the casket. After a few minutes, his teeth started chattering. A few minutes later, he called out, “Spike?”
Rolling his eyes, Spike asked, “What, Xander?”
“I feel like a big block of ice.”
Shoving the lid over, Spike climbed out of his coffin, carrying his blanket out with him. “Fine, get up.”
Xander sent his lid flying and it shattered to pieces on the floor. “Good job, pet,” Spike said sarcastically. “Anyone who comes looking will know somebody was staying here,”
As Xander hung his head, Spike relented. “Come on, then.” He led Xander to a corner, where he laid out the blanket and sat down on it. “You can cuddle up with me tonight, not that I'm any warmer than you are. Tomorrow we'll get set up in a proper house and grab a warm body to sleep between us. How's that sound?”
Xander, sitting across Spike's lap, wrapped his arms around his Sire. “Like a big teddy bear?” he asked in a sleepy voice.
“Just like,” Spike promised.
3 Never Been So Alone
Xander and Willow. Willow and Xander. Hell, as far as Spike could tell, they'd been born together.
He stared at them from across the room of the mansion they'd set themselves up in. Xander held back, leaning comfortably against the flowered wallpaper, allowing Willow to play cat and mouse with the bint they'd brought home.
It reminded Spike of how he'd been with Dru, before she'd left him.
Cupping his hand into the glass bowl, Spike raised it up, and turned it over, allowing Angel's ashes to drift down. He was head of the line. The Master was dead. Darla, dead. Angel, a pile of ashes at his feet. Dru too mad to take up the mantle. Nope, the power was all his.
He'd never felt so alone.
Killing the bint made Willow horny. Fairly predictable that, most any vamp was when they'd made a kill. After she and Xander had disappeared into a back room, probably her bedroom since she was the dom of the two, Spike just stared off into space.
Until night fell.
As a surge of energy shot up through him, releasing Spike from his lethargy, he kicked over the ashes, shattering the bowl into a thousand pieces, shouting, “Let's make some noise.”
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