This is my entry for willshenilshe's Slash is Sexy Spike mini-Slashficathon.
Rating: PG-13 (And I can't believe I just typed that!)
Summary: While Spike is still living with Xander in S4, they get trapped in the basement and have to find ways to keep themselves occupied.
Betas: As funny as it sounds, crazydiamondsue and ghostgirl13 both emailed me at the same time. Big thanks to you both!
A/N: Written for spikegrrl1, who wanted humor, snarkiness, and a recap of past sexual exploits but no explicit sex or violence.
A/N 2: And boy, was that hard to do! No sex? What! No violence? What! Humor. What's that?! I had no clue what to do with the story. I write angst. Angst, people! But with some great people giving me support, I was able to come up with something appropriate. Although, a little bit of angst did make it in the final cut. I just couldn't help it.
Feedback: Love some, thanks.
Xander watched the bottle spin around in a circle, the warm liquor flinging off the rim to splatter at his knees and leave a wet trail in front of him.
He and Spike had become trapped in the basement under what Buffy had informed them was a demon corpse about a city block wide, which the local news stations were calling a unearthed dinosaur that fell from a transport plane. In truth, it had escaped the Hellmouth only to run into the Slayer. Luckily, it just flattened the house; the new supports Xander had installed transformed the basement into more of a cellar. The water, sewer, and phone lines, all buried underground, were still intact and functioning but the gas and electrical were shut off to avoid any explosions.
Buffy had told Xander over the phone to ration out food and blood to last for the week. It would take the rescue crews at least that long to get to them. With very little food, nothing to entertain themselves, and only very fast cold showers, they just had to wait to be dug out.
Luckily, Xander found a wilted deck of cards hiding in between the cushions of his fold out bed. Using first a flashlight, until the batteries ran out, and then resorting to candles, he played over fifty games of solitaire, wanting to avoid Spike as much as he could. But as the days wore on, the need for contact became necessary, for both of them. Spike had insisted on some kind of communication to keep him from becoming twitchy and the games had begun.
They started with card games: gin rummy, poker, and pinochle, which Spike taught him how to play. In the dim light, arguments would often break out over card confusion, mostly six versus nine and the face cards. The arguments would go on for hours until they both retreated to opposite ends of the basement and sat sulking. Finally, after the sixth or seventh fight, Xander decided that this probably wasn’t the best way to spend the week and so he suggested that they try Twenty Questions. Spike wanted something more exciting and insisted they bet on it, winner of each round gets a prize. Now they had graduated to a warped version of Truth or Dare, with Spin the Bottle used to determine whose turn it was to ask the next question.
The bottle slowed, then came to a stop, nozzle pointing off into Xander’s half of the dark, bland nothingness of the basement and he realized it was his turn.
“You do realize this isn’t how the game is played, right? I mean, there really doesn’t need to be a bottle here…unless it’s full of something, preferably alcohol of some kind, and upright.”
Spike snorted, “Yeah, but I like it. Keeps it interesting.”
“How?” Xander asked.
Spike looked at him as if he’d lost his mind. “It’s a spinning bottle.”
And that meant what, exactly?
“’Sides,” Spike continued, “s’not like you’ve played it before, otherwise you wouldn’t need to ask.”
“That’s not true!”
“Really?” Spike looked slightly interested.
“Yeah, played just last week at the haunted house, before demons started falling from the sky.”
“Oh, that.” Spike rolled his eyes. “Yeah, you’re a real danger hound. Getting a snog from a pissed co-ed.”
“She wasn’t pissed…well, until that hair thing but then-”
“Drunk, you idiot.”
“Oh, but still. See, I’ve played…although not for very long. Game called on account of haunting.”
“Right.” Spike nodded, but Xander could tell when he was being ridiculed.
“And like you’ve played all that much? When was this? While you were plotting to kill us or while you were coming to us to save your sorry hide?’
“Never needed to play a game to get what I wanted,” Spike leered smugly.
“I don’t want to know!” Xander put his hands up as if to bat that thought away, then he realized something. Spike always bragged about his exploits. Blah, blah, big bad, blah, blah. But he had nothing to back it up. Especially when it came to issues of the bedroom. Drusilla and Harmony, not exactly cream of the crop and yet, Spike acted like he had women falling all over him. Xander knew this was his moment to learn the truth, well, as close to what Spike could ever utter. “Actually, you know what, I do.”
Spike scoffed, “Like I’d tell you a thing?”
Xander sneered, “You would if you had too.”
Xander watched as the realization washed over Spike’s face. He was caught. “Oh, bloody hell,” he muttered.
For a second it looked as if Spike would chose to take a dare, but he hadn’t all night and Xander didn’t think he’d start now. Spike knew a chicken dance would be in his future and there was no way he would agree to do that. He had just way too much pride. Plus, if he chose ‘truth’ he could always just lie. Which was why when they started this game, both sides agreed to give details if asked. Names, dates, it all had to be verifiable. So that way, at least it had to be a really good lie.
Decision made, Spike’s eyes hardened, the steel glint once more in place. His face took on its earlier poise, now perfectly sustained. “All right,” Spike said with an authoritative air, “ask away.”
There was something Xander had been wondering about for awhile. He only knew about Drusilla, but to be alive for over a century? Spike must have had a thousand lovers, except for the fact that he had been so devoted to her. Giles had always said vampires couldn’t love. And yet there was Spike, fawning all over Dru. He’d always wondered, but there never seemed to be a right time to ask the serial killer staying in his house.
“How,” Xander squeaked on the word and then cleared his throat, “how many people have you had sex with?”
Spike must have been expecting a different question. He sat up straight as if he had been slapped, eyes wide. Then he quickly settled back down, crossing his arms over his chest. “More than you.”
“Uh-uh, buddy. You know that isn’t going to cut it. Out with it. Ten, twenty, two?” He couldn’t help but laugh as Spike’s eyes darted down on that last one. “Two! Oh man, are you serious? We tie in the lovers department? I never would have thought.”
“No, not two! I said more than you, didn’t I?” He growled and then mumbled something Xander couldn’t quite understand.
Still chuckling, he put his hand to ear, “I’m sorry, what was that? I must be hard of hearing.”
“Three, you wanker! Happy? Three.” Spike rose, stalked over to the warm and wet fridge, pulled out another beer and chugged it down.
“Hey!” Xander launched himself at Spike, pulling the bottle out of his hands, “Man cannot survive by water alone, you know. Jeez, Spike! Take it personally, why don’t you? I was just teasing!”
Xander looked down the nozzle, into the bottom of the bottle. There was only a swallow or two left and he cursed as he realized this was the last of their supply and now it was all down Spike’s gullet. He glared at Spike but knew giving the evil eye to the evil undead was pointless, so taking the last swig of beer he’d have until they were rescued, he sat back down on the concrete floor.
“Sit,” Xander pointed to the rumpled fold out bed in front of him. “I’m not done with you yet.”
“You’ve had your one question.”
“House rules, Spike. You know we go all the way here. Sit.”
Reluctantly Spike sat down, but not on the bed as indicated. He chose to sit across from Xander with his back against the railing. He crossed his legs and with his eyes cast down, fiddled with the bottle in front of him.
“So, three huh? I know about Dru and Harmony,” he faked a shudder and was rewarded with a grimace from Spike. “So that leaves one. Who was she? It had to be while you were still human. A wife, maybe? No, you were too young, right? Or maybe some vamp you met along the way? Maybe a prostitute! I heard that was big back then.” At Spike’s scowl he backed off with a simple, “Well?”
Spike didn’t say anything and Xander was losing patience. It wasn’t very much fun to tease Spike if he didn’t get riled up.
“Fine,” Xander sighed, “just give me a name. It isn’t like I’m going to know them. They’ve probably been dead for over a hundred years.”
Xander watched a change come over Spike. No longer chagrined, he sat up straight and looked Xander right in the eye, and bringing the empty bottle up by the base he used it to punctuate his words, “Well, you’re right about that last part.”
Xander blinked. What was that supposed to mean? He rewound the last few things he said. Adding it up, it equaled some one he knew that had been dead for over a century. That list wasn’t very long. How many dead people could he possibly know?
“Ah-ha!” Xander knew he would figure it out. “Darla!” he exclaimed, a triumphant smile spreading across his face.
“Eh, wrong!” Spike leaned back and crossed his arms. “My prick would have frozen off if it had touched that frigid bitch.”
Xander thought he sounded like a demonic game show host, but then thought all game show hosts sounded demonic, so did that mean Spike sounded normal?
They sat in silence as Xander mentally went through all the vamps he and Spike both knew. Then thought to ask, “We are talking vamp here?”
Spike smirked and nodded.
He threw his hands up, signaling defeat. “I give up. The only vamp I know, that you know, is Angel! And you so wouldn’t…” Xander trailed off as Spike slowly unfolded his arms and placed the bottle between his legs, stroking it sensuously.
He watched, transfixed, as Spike’s fingers trailed up the sides gently and then cupping the neck tightly, he would push down, fingers fanning out slightly at the curve of the body. He’d then pull the bottle against himself and rub it between his legs. Xander audibly gulped and could feel himself reacting to the show Spike was putting on for him. A mixture of revulsion and excitement washed over him, but it was like a car wreck, he just couldn’t look away. He shifted uncomfortably in his position on the floor. He had a sudden new awareness of how tight his clothes were and he felt like he had just been taken out of a washing machine. Wet and somehow shrunken. He looked down to see himself mimicking Spike’s movement with his own bottle. He shrieked and threw it across the room as if it had been on fire.
Spike let loose with a roar of laughter. Something Xander wasn’t sure he’d ever heard before, not unless something was losing its head. “The look on your face!”
Xander stood up and tried to cover himself before he realized he was fully clothed, this only made Spike howl more. Spike’s strange reaction made Xander think he was being lied to. “You…you…” he frantically pointed at Spike, “…that was just…you were just…joking?”
This sobered Spike. He lowered his head and looked at the bottle in his lap, “Oh no. No joke.”
What had just happened? One minute Spike’s laughing and making Xander feel stupid, the next morose with the posture of someone defeated. Whatever it was that had happened between the vampires, it had a profound effect on Spike. And now Xander knew about it. This had gone much further than he ever intended and the embarrassment was making his skin feel hot and flushed. Yeah, he was sure that was it. Embarrassment.
He backed away from Spike, unsure of what to say or do. He didn’t care that Spike looked like he’d been dumped. He really, really didn’t! What did it matter that Spike and Angel were once lovers? But just the thought made his head reel. And he couldn’t stay and make Spike feel better, because as far as he was concerned, that union was worse than any demon combinations his nightmares had ever thought up. It was probably better for both of them…heck the world was better off, that they weren’t together anymore.
He’d backed himself almost into the bathroom before Spike spoke again, “No need to worry your pretty little head about it. Only happened the once.” Spike continued to talk, not raising his head as his fingers continued to absently rub and stroke the bottle, “Not like you’re gonna wake up with a confused vamp in your bed. Know the difference. Your virtue is safe.”
Xander nearly tripped as his feet slid down over the tack strip. Feet now safely on the bathroom side of the floor, he responded softly with, “N-never even crossed my mind. I’m just going to go…go shower before bed. Tie again?”
Spike nodded, eyes still focused on the floor. “Yeah, game begins new tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow. Night, Spike.” Xander quickly closed the door.
Xander rested his head on the door, trying to regain control. Over the sounds of his own shallow breathing and his heartbeat pounding in his ears, he faintly heard, “Night.” He relaxed, thinking that was the end of it but then Spike added, “Xander.”
Xander jerked back from the door, his hands going up to protect himself from words he didn’t want to hear. He ran for the shower, looking forward to the cold water that would abuse his skin.
This wasn’t a tie by any means. Spike had won this round and Xander had been lucky enough to escape without the loss of a pint as per their deal.
You didn’t ask questions you didn’t want the answers to. And if you couldn’t handle it, you lost.
It was Game Over.
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