“Knock it off!” Spike pushed at him half-heartedly, but he didn’t care, because Oh My God, his sneakers looked awesome, so he snapped his jaw around the toe of one and dragged it out, gnawing on its rubbery flesh with relish, tasting dirt and grime but so not caring. Spike laughed. “Bet you piss him off, doin’ that. Give.” He held out his hand, and Xander ignored him, chewing on the sole. Grinning wide, the blonde vamp stuck two fingers into the shoe and tugged.
Thus began the most epic two second game of tug-o’-war Xander had ever played.
He fought valiantly, growling just a little as he whipped his head back and forth, tail wagging in play-mode. Spike, eyes sparking hot blue in amusement, gave a little and let him think he was winning. Then he yanked, and the shoe was snapped from his jaws, and he whimpered as he watched it hang over his head, almost wanting to snap at it.
“You and your master,” He laughed, wagging the shoe over his nose. “I’ll bet he lets ye win, don’t he? Always been a soft heart, that one.” Letting the rubber tap him on the snout, he dropped the shoes to the floor where Xander immediately had to have them. He pawed them over to his left, where he let them stay, sniffing at them and chewing the laces every once in a while.
Then Spike held up the one video he should’ve destroyed a long, long time ago.
It was a recording. It had no label. But on the bottom of the tape, it was marked in white-out pen, in handwriting that wasn’t his.
ME + XAN ‘96
Yelping out loud, he jumped, snapping for the tape like it was a life vest and he was drowning. But it was really the exact fucking opposite. It was an anchor. A lock to a past he didn’t want anyone, anyone, to ever see. Especially not fucking Spike, of all the people on this Godforsaken planet.
“What’s this then?” The stupid vampire didn’t even notice him freaking. He just got up off the floor and popped the tape into the VCR.
Oh God… He dropped to the floor, wishing the demon had just sliced him to ribbons instead of letting him live to see this. Oh God, Oh God No…
Dropping to the recliner, Spike picked up the popcorn and dipped a couple pieces into the blood on the table, eyes on the TV. Xander melted to the floor, wincing as (against all his prayers), the video began to play.
The first thing on the screen was the Jim Morrison poster that had lived on Jesse’s wall for years before this was shot. But the footage panned over a few inches, and there was Xander. All twisted up in Jesse’s dark blue sheets. Naked, sleeping off a round of sex that hadn’t lasted long enough. But hey. They were teenagers.
“Fuck.” His head snapped up, and he looked at Spike, whose eyes were wide with something like fascination at the sight.