By the Light of a Blue Moon

by
Dustandroses



Ghouls. There was nothing worse than ghouls. Nasty, filthy creatures that fed on human flesh – just the thought of them creeped Xander out. He’d shudder if he still had that much energy. He glanced up at the big, full moon hovering low in the sky, casting an eerie pale blue light over the graveyard. The ghouls had been out in force tonight, attracted to that moon, and the Scoobies had spent the whole night fighting them off, driving them away from the graves of the recently deceased.

They’d finally killed the last of the large pack. As Buffy and the others staggered back in the direction of their cars, Xander stumbled along at the end, staring at the ground, his head too heavy to hold up. He’d done his part tonight, protecting Willow and Tara while they cast spell after spell. Buffy and Spike had kicked and punched, swords flashing as heads and bodies flew through the air, spattering the ground, and occasionally the gang, with dark blood that looked black in the deceptively tranquil light cast by the moon. It had been a long night, and since it was a weekday, he still had to go to work in the morning.

Later this morning. It was almost dawn already. He wouldn’t get much sleep before the alarm was clamoring at him, reminding him that construction work and demon fighting were not two great things that go great together. And since last night had been Halloween, the chances were good that he’d get ribbed mercilessly by the guys at work for staying up partying all night. If they only knew.

According to Giles, it would be almost twenty years before there was another full moon on Halloween. Xander started to make a vow that he would not spend that night cruising graveyards, looking for ghouls too dense to know they were supposed to stay in on Halloween, but he stopped himself before he could mumble even a word. Therein lay stupidity. A vow taken over the Hellmouth had all sorts of potential for dangerous results. There’s no way he’d ever do something that idiotic.

He struggled to lift his eyes up from the path at his feet, wondering exactly how far he still had to go before he reached the questionable safety of his car. He stopped moving, a shock of adrenaline rushing through his veins. He was alone. The rest had disappeared, and now he was faced with the ultimate in stupidity: alone at night. In a graveyard. On the Hellmouth. Fuck.

He forced his legs to start moving, eyes narrowed as he scanned the area. At least he didn’t need to worry about his exhaustion now. His heart was racing – that charge of adrenaline pushing through him with every rushed beat, like a triple hit of No-Doze. As tired as everyone was, if the others hadn’t noticed he wasn’t with them, they might have left without him.

That was a cheery thought. He gripped his short sword tighter in his hand, and felt for the stake in his back pocket. At least he was armed. He could handle this. It’s not like he hadn’t patrolled by himself in the past. He’d just keep alert and he’d be back home in no time.

Xander kept to the path, despite the protection the shadows of the trees and mausoleums seemed to offer. He was better off in the faint light of the moon, where he could at least see if something was headed in his direction. Besides, the victims in slasher movies always ended up hugging the shadows, and look what good it did them.

He swallowed hard, his mouth dry. His first instinct was to shout for the rest. They couldn’t be that far ahead of him, could they? Although shouting might get their attention, it would also alert any demons in the area that a tasty morsel was wandering around bleating like a sacrificial lamb. Surely by now they’d noticed he was missing. Any moment now they’d head back to see where he was. That’s right. Any moment now he’d see Buffy striding through the graveyard, sword in hand, ready to save him from any random monsters that might be sneaking up behind him.

Yep, any moment now.

He realized that his man status was gonna suffer for this. If he wasn’t careful, they’d take away his membership card. But if there was one thing he’d learned during the time he’d known Buffy, it was that no matter how small or defenseless they looked, women could kick butt.

Besides, there was no harm in just imagining a tough female warrior coming for him, hair blowing in the breeze, tight, skimpy outfit hugging every firm muscle in her shapely body, eager to fight for his life. That didn’t hurt his manly self-image at all. Women who could fight were hot. Look at Xena. Look at Lara Croft. Look at Seven of Nine!

He felt his eyes glaze over, and blinked to clear them. Okay, maybe he had a thing for hot women warriors, but that didn’t make him less of a man. Didn’t Aeryn Sun teach John Crichton to fight? And he was a damn hot manly man, in those tight leather pants and big gun…

He cleared his throat and looked around; realizing he’d strayed away from the path somewhat, distracted by the thought of those hot women-- and stuff. Big mistake. He'd wandered into the danger zone, and found himself in the shadow of a large mausoleum. What had he just been saying about idiots? He headed back toward the path.

That was when he heard a scrape from above and behind him. He spun around just in time to see a ghoul jumping off the roof of the mausoleum. It flew though the air straight at him, the full moon behind it, limning it with eerie blue light. Xander shouted as the ghoul hit him, knocking him to his back on the grass, claws digging at his chest as it hissed and snapped at his neck.

The force of the fall knocked the sword out of his hand. Arms trembling with fatigue, Xander's hands shoved at its shoulders as its sharp teeth snapped at his face. The damn things were strong, and as tired as Xander was, he knew that the only thing keeping them apart was the burst of pure fear pumping through him, heart pounding as the snarling demon clawed at him.

Out of nowhere, a black blur hit the ghoul from the side, ripping it out of Xander’s grip, and rolling away with it. Growls and hissing cries filled the air. When the ghoul came to a stop, the black blur kept moving, rolling into a crouch, and quickly up onto its feet, where Xander’s weary eyes finally identified a game-faced Spike, who attacked the ghoul without even pausing for a breath.

Oh, right. Spike didn’t need to breathe, did he? Xander, on the other hand took huge gulps of air as he struggled to his feet, searching the nearby ground for his sword. Not that he planned to get anywhere near enough to that thing to try and swing a short sword at it. He watched the fight for an opening, hoping to throw the sword in Spike’s direction, as they’d discovered over the course of the night that a good beheading was the best way to deal with a ghoul.

It didn’t look like Spike really needed a sword, though. He was a whirling dervish, light and dark at the same time, hands and feet striking with pin point accuracy and swirling away again to spin around and hit from the other direction. Xander had always admired Spike’s moves, the grace with which he fought, the bunch and flow of well-muscled legs as he jumped and spun and struck again and again. John Crichton had nothing on him. Put Spike in a pair of black leather pants and…

Xander shivered and broke out of his daze, using one hand to adjust the uncomfortable bulge in his suddenly too-tight jeans. Okay, this was new, but not particularly surprising. Watching Spike fight was truly inspiring, after all.

The ghoul scrabbled at the ground, trying its best to get away. Spike kicked it in the ribs with his boot, sending it over onto its back, where it lay stunned as Spike brought his heel down one more time. Xander flinched as he heard bones crack, but Spike hadn’t finished, yet. He put one foot on the ghoul’s chest, reaching down to grab its head with both hands.

“And this is for having the nerve to touch - my - Xander!” he growled, twisting its head off with his bare hands and sending it spinning like a Frisbee to strike a gravestone with a meaty thud.

Did he say my? Xander opened his mouth to ask. Then Spike’s head turned, and Xander froze, stunned by the sight of the vampire, still in game face. Demon eyes focused on Xander as he stalked forward, every inch the predator. There was no doubt who was the prey in this scenario.

He stepped back, and back again, but then there was no place left to go. Xander’s body pressed against the cool stone of the mausoleum, shivering as Spike stared at him hungrily. Spike’s face slowly morphed back into his human guise, the moon’s radiance highlighting the sharp angles of his face and giving Spike an otherworldly glow that caused Xander’s breath to catch.

Spike stopped about a foot from him, well inside the border of Xander’s usual comfort zone, but all he could think to do was raise one hand to brush his fingertips across Spike’s cheekbone, as if he could touch the moon’s radiance on Spike’s skin. Then Spike closed the distance between them, and Xander whispered his name just before Spike’s lips met his.

Spike’s kiss was rough and aggressive, spurred on by blood lust and violence, and Xander answered it in kind, eager and greedy for more. When Spike growled into the kiss, Xander shuddered, his scattered thoughts flashing on a big cat devouring its meal. He moaned into Spike’s mouth, his hands curling around Spike’s hips, pulling their bodies closer together.

Finally recognizing that woozy sensation he was feeling, Xander pulled away, his head thumping against the wall behind him, determined to breathe, whether Spike wanted him to or not. “Some of us need oxygen, here, buddy,” he gasped, blinking to clear the spots swimming in front of his eyes.

“It’s overrated, I promise you.” But Spike gave him some room, moving to nibble on the line of his chin before slipping down to nip at his neck-- dangerously close to Xander’s blood supply.

Xander gasped, his stomach flipping over and his cock straining against the zipper of his jeans. In other circumstances, having a vampire this close to his jugular would be a major turn off, but Spike – Spike was different. Sexy and wicked and lithe and…oh god, why hadn’t they ever done this before? Xander's hips bucked as Spike's hand inched down between their bodies to knead at Xander's cock. Spike ducked his head and captured a t-shirt covered nipple between his teeth while he deftly worked open Xander's fly.

Xander shouted as Spike’s hand slipped inside his jeans. Fucking multi-tasking vampire! He was feeling a little overwhelmed at the moment, all these sensations attacking him at once, making him feel like the heroine in some romance novel. Fuck that shit. He’d dated Anya for six months, for Christ’s sake! He could show Spike a thing or two.

He grabbed Spike’s head in both hands and pulled it up, attacking his mouth with teeth and tongue, becoming the aggressor. Spike stumbled back a step in surprise, and Xander took advantage, flipping them so Spike was the one with his back to the wall, pressed tight between cool marble and hot human.

When Xander finally pulled back, damn those lungs and their demands for air, Spike’s eyes were wide, and he was panting as fast as Xander. Xander smirked. Spike wasn’t the only one with moves. He headed for the one place he’d always suspected would be a hot spot for a vampire and chewed on Spike’s neck, scraping his dull, human teeth across the soft skin and making Spike shout out loud.

“Bloody hell!”

Xander chuckled as he sucked hard on Spike’s jugular, forcing his knee between Spike’s and shifting so that Spike had something to rub against. Oh yeah, he knew how to make a vampire scream. He moaned against Spike’s cool neck, his own thrusts getting ragged and sloppy, his hard cock rubbing against Spike’s hip bone, the friction of thin boxer against jeans heating his skin to a fever pitch.

Spike had his hands down the back of Xander’s jeans, squeezing and pulling, urging Xander to thrust harder and harder, circling his hips to find just the right angle. Moving one hand underneath his boxers, Spike slid a cool finger between the cheeks of Xander’s ass, making him gasp.

“Fuck, yeah!” Xander couldn’t help but shout; he loved having his ass played with. Spike chuckled darkly in his ear and started to circle a finger around Xander’s asshole, pushing and pushing, but never quite entering. Xander lost it, all semblance of control gone with the first press of that finger tip against his hole. He knew he was ready to come, and he wasn’t about to do it on his own, so as he felt his orgasm take him, he bit Spike’s neck. Hard.

After that, it was all over but the shouting – and there was a lot of shouting, from both of them. They continued to rut against each other for a minute or two, gradually slowing until they leaned together, chests heaving. Finally Xander reluctantly pulled himself away, sliding down the wall to collapse on the dew-wet grass, panting heavily.

After a moment, Spike followed him, reaching up to Xander’s bite, his fingers coming away smeared with blood.

“You bastard. You beautiful, fucking bastard.”

He wrapped his hand around Xander’s head and pulled him in for a kiss, and Xander grinned against Spike’s mouth. He’d shocked Spike. That ought to be worth something. He might be able to wrangle a blow-job out of Spike if he played his cards right. He bet that non-breathing thing would come in very handy when he was on his knees at Xander’s feet. Now that was a nice image.

They rested against the wall as Xander caught his breath. It hadn’t turned out that bad of a night after all. The graveyard was quiet, truly tranquil for the first time as the fading light of the moon dissolved into the pearly gray of pre-dawn. Pre-dawn?

“Oh, shit!” Xander jumped up, reaching down to haul Spike up as well. “Move your ass, Spike. It’s almost dawn! We have to get you inside.” He fumbled with his pants, grimacing as he zipped them. He needed a shower. And some clean clothes.

Spike shook his head. “No big deal.” He tipped his head, motioning over his shoulder. “My crypt is just over there, I’ve got plenty of time.”

“No you don’t.” Xander grabbed his arm, pulling him along, back to the entrance of the cemetery. “If we’re gonna make it across town before you burn to a crisp, we have to get moving now.”

“Across town?” Spike pulled them both to a halt, crossing his arms and staring at Xander, puzzled. “What the hell are you talking about, mate?”

Exasperated, Xander sighed. “Think about it.” He held out one hand, palm up. “Smelly old crypt surrounded by people even deader than you.”

“Oi!”

Xander ignored him and held out his other hand, next to the first. “Nice, clean apartment with cable, beer, a hot shower and a horny human to share it with.” He shifted his hands up and down, as if weighing which might be the better choice.

Spike raised an eyebrow in what looked like surprise, but the look didn’t last long before he replaced it with a smirk. “Right then. Looking for someone to scrub your back, are you?”

Xander grinned at him, bouncing on his toes for a second before heading to the car. “Yeah. Think you could manage that?” he asked over his shoulder.

Spike joined him on the path, lighting up a cigarette as he went. “Oh, I think I might be able to handle that one for you. If you ask nice enough.”

Xander laughed, suddenly in the best mood he’d been in for months. He was going to have to call out of work today, no matter what they might think. It would be well worth the ribbing he’d get when he showed up on Friday. He sped up, eager to get home and get Spike into that shower. At least he wouldn't have to wait for the next blue moon to get laid again.



The End