Pairing: Xander/Spike
Prompt:
tamingthemuse
#274-Danseur Noble
Warnings: m/m, mentions of battle
Rating: R
Disclaimer: I do not own anything except the computer I'm typing
this on and am making no money. Buffy the Vampire Slayer and
Angel belong to their respective creators and owners who *are*
making money off them. I'm just doing this for my own fun and
entertainment; in general, if you recognize something, I don't
own it.
Beta: NONE! Any mistakes are my own
Summary: Spike watches Xander fight
Spike leaned against the front of a gaudily adorned crypt,
alert in case he needed to step in and help, but otherwise
content to simply watch as his lover spun and slashed and stabbed
his way through the small pack of demons. They were minor demons,
sure, but it had taken a year of intense training with both him
and the Watcher to get his boy to this point.
Xander was like one of the danseur noble from the many
ballets his dark princess had dragged him to while they were
still in Europe - all strength and grace, secure in the honorable
intent of his actions. He couldn’t help but watch the fluid
movement of limbs, the play of muscles under the tight t-shirt,
the slide of moonlight over sharp steel. The grunts and pained
howls of the demons were simply the music behind the dance, cause
and effect, each noise simply spurring his boy into the next
step, the next deadly swing of the sword.
An evil grin tilted Spike’s lips as he watched a
particularly ruthless move from his boy and remembered the
conversation with the Watcher that had prompted Xander’s
training…well, perhaps conversation was a little
mild for what actually happened that night.
He and the Scoobies had been fighting yet another demon incursion
inside the remains of the old high school and, as usual, he and
Buffy were in the thick of things doing what they did best while
Red and Glinda worked their mojo and Rupert helped keep any
demons from getting too close to the witches. Then there was
Xander, stuck between the two groups, trying to deal with any
injured demons that managed to make it past him and the Slayer
and trying to help Rupert defend the two girls.
He had to give the boy credit, after all the years of helping
Buffy and all the fights he’d been in, and been injured in,
he still came back anytime they called. It didn’t help
though that his method was more luck and passion than style and
talent. It had amazed Spike every time he watched the boy fight
that he’d made it as long as he had. Unfortunately luck can
only last so long, and Xander would usually be the first to tell
anyone that the only luck he had was of the bad. One particularly
stubborn demon made it past its remaining brethren as they made
one last en mass attack against him and Buffy, and the next thing
Spike knew, he heard a pained grunt and Red screaming before
there was a wash of heat against his back. Once the two of them
had finished up with the small horde, slightly bloodied but still
whole, they’d turned to meet back with the others only to
find Rupert and the girls on the ground clustered around a prone
figure.
Xander had apparently received a pretty nasty slash from the
demon at which point Red had nuked it in a panicked attack,
luckily missing the good guys. Meanwhile, Xander was clutching
his stomach, blood pouring out from between his fingers as he
gasped and gritted his teeth. Spike’s estimation of the boy
went up even more as he refused to cry, even going so far as to
make weak jokes as he tried to calm down his upset friends. And
somehow, in the middle of the humans fussing over him, Xander had
managed to capture his gaze with those deep brown eyes, and
something in the pain-filled, yet steady, gaze had called to
him.
They managed to get back to the Watcher’s house without
further incident, get Xander patched up and medicated and settled
on Rupert’s sofa to rest. Spike managed to hold his tongue
until after the girls left for their dorm rooms before he turned
on Rupert, shoving him back into his recliner and getting in his
face, his appearance shifting back and forth between human and
demon as he grappled with his emotions.
“This is all your bloody fault!” Spike hissed as he
pointed at Xander’s unnaturally still figure buried under
blankets on the couch.
Giles tried to get up only to have Spike shove him back down
again and fought not to yell at their ally. “How do you
figure that, Spike? I’m the one who patched the boy
up!”
“Exactly! How many times have you patched the whelp up over
the years? And how many times have you patched up Willow or Tara
or Buffy? You’ve never even bothered to train the boy,
after all these years, you just let him wade blindly into battle.
It’s a wonder he hasn’t managed to kill himself or
one of the others with his bumbling!”
“He’s not the Slayer; he’s just a normal human
boy, Spike. I’ve tried to keep him from going with us, we
all have, but he insists. All I can do is see that he receives
the proper medical care afterwards.”
Spike growled and pulled at his hair as he fought the urge to
throttle the clueless man in front of him. “For a smart
man, you are so bloody stupid at times, Rupes. Buffy’s the
Slayer, so you train her to fight. Red and Glinda are witches, so
you bloody well train them how to do their mojo. And
Xander… him you ignore except when you need more
doughnuts! You know he’s going to fight next to his
friends, he’s bloody well their White Knight and every
demon in this town knows it. So how come you’ve never once
trained him to fight too? Oh sure, you’ve showed him which
end of the sword to point at the baddies, but beyond that? That
soldier memory stuck in his head can only help him so much,
especially when it was never trained in anything but guns and
explosives, which we don‘t use. So here’s
what’s going to happen, you and me, we’re going to
start training the boy as soon as he’s fit enough to start.
He’s going to learn how to properly use those weapons he
normally does and how to fall and dodge and take a hit. Or
you’re going to start chaining him up in your tub when
there’s a fight. Are we clear?”
Giles was quiet for a long moment, staring back at him before
glancing over at the still young man on his couch. “Why are
you doing this, Spike? What’s in it for you?”
“How ‘bout bloody self preservation? One of these
days, the boy’s going t’ miss and take me own head
off, then where will I be?” He couldn’t tell the
other man that he dreaded seeing the light in those deep brown
eyes extinguished, couldn’t bare to see the normally
active, laughing boy so still and pale…like he was already
dead. It just wasn’t right. The bravery and inner strength
needed to return time after time to fight against the evils of
the world without any special powers…it wasn’t
something he could just ignore, not anymore.
Spike was pulled from his reverie by the sudden quiet. Focusing
back on his lover, he watched as Xander cleaned the gore off his
sword on the pelt of one of the fallen demons before making his
way back towards the crypt, his body near vibrating in adrenaline
fueled excitement.
“Spike! Did you see? I totally had them, I can’t
believe how easy it was, and that new move you showed me really
came in handy and mmph!” Xander’s words were cut
short by the quick and easy method of Spike hauling him close and
kissing him breathless.
Spike laughed at the stunned look on his boy’s face.
“Wish I had found that method to shut you up ages ago, luv.
And yes I saw; you were bloody fabulous out there. Knew you had
it in you, just had to get you past all those hang-ups of yours.
Now then, how ‘bout we head back t’ the apartment and
you can show me what other moves you know.”
Xander, still slightly dazed from the passionate kiss and the
adrenaline rush, took a moment to notice the decided leer Spike
was giving him and grinned broadly.
“Right…moves…you and me…and
yeah…race you back!” Laughing, he took off, mind
racing to what the two of them would be doing as soon as they got
back inside their place.
Spike gave his boy a head start, once again watching the play of
muscles and the fluid movements that now came so easily to his
boy, grinning as he heard the laughter floating back to him on
the still night air. Deciding Xander had enough of a lead, he ran
after him, already imagining a completely different type of dance
they’d be doing as soon as they were alone again, with the
bed as their stage, their naked bodies moving together as one and
their impassioned cries the music that spurred them on.