Unfinished Business


by
KittyPoker1



Part Thirteen

From the corner of his eye, Xander could see a rampant cock and rippling six pack heading for the bathroom. He kinda hoped Spike planned to deal with said rampant cock in private to spare his blushes, but the concept of Spike and modesty in the same city, never mind the same sentence, was so hard to imagine that his brain made a valiant bid for escape by way of his ears.

He didn’t dare look higher, to perky nipples topped by a knowing grin and glittering eyes. Everything above the waist was becoming as tempting as everything below it, which was…

“Now, that’s seriously disturbing.”

"Huh? Xander? Are you okay?"

“Sorry, Wills. I got, um, distracted. Thing is…I wanna have crazy monkey sex!”

"......"

“Willow? Are you still there? Sorry. That didn’t come out right. Not that I don’t wanna have crazy monkey sex, but I planned to slide into it.”

A snicker over his left shoulder alerted him that some things could be better expressed.

"Sounds like someone’s having a bad day. You know you don’t wanna have sex with me ‘cos that’d be, you know, so retro. Besides, Kennedy would do that thing. You know, the one where she kills us both horribly?"

“Not so much bad, as very confusing. And I’ve always been scared of Kennedy, but that’s pushed fear right into the area of terrifying. Anyways, problem is, there’s a naked vampire wandering around my apartment, being all entice-y.”

"Xander, tell me you didn’t let an unbreathing girl pick you up! You know better than that. Go, stake her now! Just say no to biting."

“And why didn’t you assume I picked her up? Oh, right. Anyhoo, staking h…them isn’t an option.” He took a deep breath. “It’s a vampwithsoul.”

"Did you just say it’s a ham with fries? Because sheesh, Xander, if you said what I thought you said… Put Angel on the phone."

“Angel? What’s Broody McBrood got to do with this?”

"As far as I know, he’s the only vamp with a soul…’cept for Spike."

Xander suddenly found himself with a lap full of, blessedly for his heart rate, unnaked walking dead.

Spike picked the receiver from his nerveless hand. “Red? It’s me.” He held the receiver at full extension for thirty seconds then returned it to his ear. “Now now, no need to get so excited about it. I know you’ve missed me...”

…then almost threw the receiver back at Xander. “Maybe you’d better finish your chit chat with the witch, mate. She doesn’t seem to appreciate my dulcet tones.”

Xander sighed and put it to his ear. This could’ve gone better.

“Hi again, Wills!” he said brightly. “I should probably have added that Entice-y Vamp is a ghost and he keeps being dragged down, hellwards.” He glared at Spike. “I would’ve, if he’d given me another, oh, two minutes.”

"So, you want to have nutsy gorilla sex with Spike but he doesn’t stick around long enough?"

“Wow, impressed by your grasp of the deeply weird situation!”

"Ooh, I’m right? Excitement! This is new, what with the newness and everything. I’ll be there tomorrow, laptop in lap and volume-y texts in hand luggage. And you’d better be ready with a good reason for why you want to do sexy stuff with Spike, Mister. He’s cute, if you squint, but you hated him!"

“Desperation is a terrible thing, Willow.”





Part Fourteen

Xander hung up the phone and sighed happily. Willow was on the way and he had every confidence that she’d know how to fix the weirdness that had become his life. Things suddenly seemed a whole lot better. Briefly.

“Hey, stop jiggling your legs! If you want me off your lap, you only need to whimper pitifully.”

“I want you off my lap. You’re heavier than you look, you’ve got a bony ass, and my legs are going to start snoring any minute now. Whimpery enough?” Ignoring the expected huff of laughter from lapvamp, he then wrapped his arms around Spike’s middle to stop him sliding off.

“I’ve got just the cure for that.” Spike wriggled around until he was straddling Xander’s thighs and wound his arms around Xander’s shoulders. “Even weight distribution, yeah?”

“Mmm, relief.”

“Speaking of relief…”

With a moan somewhere between resignation and anticipation, anticipation winning by a narrow margin, Xander opened his mouth to allow the invasion of a cool, slippery tongue which seemed determined to pry out every last filling. He made a hazy mental note to visit the dentist, very soon. When a wandering hand wandered to his fly, he pushed it away and came up for air.

"Nuh-uh, nix to that, nope. We’re an inch away from figuring out how to keep you here permanently-"

"I’d say more like eight inches-"

"And I’m not risking you disappearing again before that happens. Next time you vanish, you might not come back, what with the possibility of being sucked down to hell and all.”

Spike tilted his head and fixed him with the stare of doom, and Xander knew an awkward question was working its way from brain of Spike to lips of Spike.

Right, time for Deflecto Boy to spring into action. He so wasn’t ready to delve into his feelings. For now, finding a way to keep Spike in one place long enough for a few orgasms would count as a win.

“Um, Spike? There’s something I’ve been meaning to ask you.”

“If it’s how I do that thing with my tongue, I’d rather show you.”

Xander had an uneasy feeling that Spike could see right through his not-so-subtle tactics. “No, listen. This might be relevant.”

“Fine, I’ll bite. I mean that in the metaphorical sense, of course. Unless you’re offering?”

“No!”

“I was afraid of that. On with the question.”

“’Kay. When you got back the…went soul-y, was it your own soul?”

“Hang on. How is this relevant?”

“Because if it was someone else’s soul, maybe they want it back.”

“Hmm. Good thinking, surprisingly enough. There’s more than cheddar behind that overgrown, floppy hair.”

“What’s wrong with my hair?”

“It’s overgrown and floppy, boy. Already said. Suits you, though.”

“Gee, thanks, ever so.”

“The answer to your question is, no idea. It’s not like there’s a timeshare arrangement for the use of souls. I know that because there’s been a startling lack of cold calls, asking if I want to sell.”

“Funny vamp.”

“I thought so. I figured once I had it, it was mine for good. Or bad, considering it came with that awkward conscience.”

“Phht. Look on the bright side: No conscience, no Xandery goodness of the sexing variety.”

“Got to admit, that’d be a pity. You ready to pour some of that goodness all over a hard-done-by pilgrim to ease his difficult and perilous journey through life?”

Xander was so pleased to have diverted Spike’s erratic mind from territory he wasn’t ready to enter – yet - that he would’ve done almost anything to continue the trend. Almost anything…

“Alternatively, I could just barf.”





Part Fifteen

Xander managed to fight off Octopus Spike the easiest way – he locked himself in his bedroom. Then propped a chair under the handle for extra security. So what if he spent the next four hours studying his pillow, trying unsuccessfully to muffle the impressive stream of grumbles seeping through the gap under the door by burying his head in the comforter and missing arms and lips of Spike? It was for Spike’s good, right?

It so was.

Jeez, the guy could make a helluva lot of noise for someone without functioning lungs.

When the sound effects finally stopped, he unlocked the door and poked his head out, to find Spike curled up on the barcalounger, face a picture of misery.

“So,” he said brightly, feeling like a very small piece of shit scraped off someone’s Doc Martens, “Willow should be here any minute. Think you can keep your hands to yourself for that long?”

“I give up.”

“Say huh?”

“You’re right. I’ll deny I ever said it until the next apocalypse, but it’s just possible that sex isn’t actually the answer to everything.”

“Hello, have we met?”

Spike sighed. “Could be I’m a tiny bit distracted by this whole being dragged down to hell scenario.”

Not sure what to do with a depressed Spike, Xander sat down on the edge of the chair. Ripping off his clothes and turning himself into an all-you-can-fuck buffet was a very bad idea, but very tempting. Anything to take that woebegone expression from his vamp’s eyes and put back the mischievous gleam…

“There, there,” he said, awkwardly patting him on the shoulder. Concern turned to near-panic when Spike made no attempt to feel him up. That was new, and worrying. To his relief, there was a knock on the door and he almost ran to open it, and found himself with an armful of hugging, squealing redhead.

“Willow!”

“Xander!”

“Red.”

“Spike!”

“Wondered when you’d notice me, witchy woman.”

“You’re the reason I’m here, remember? Which reminds me, Mister,” she said, pulling away from Xander and fixing him with an accusing look. “What’s with the total lack of phone calls and emails? You don’t call until your love life reaches kablooey time?”

“Um, sorry about that, Wills. But, hey, you’re here now and much catching up will be done. Right after you’ve fixed Spike.”

“Xan, where’s your patch?”

Xander clapped a hand over his empty socket. “Oops, I forgot. Spike kinda likes me better without it.”

“Me, too!” Willow nodded firmly, pulled Xander’s hand away and smiled at Spike. “You’re in my good books now, Spike. No more kablooey. What can I do to help?”

“The boy’s had an idea. Could be a good one, at that. Colour me shocked.”

“Hey, I have good ideas all the time!”

“Ooh, do tell!”

“Well, it goes something like this: Spike got someone else’s soul and they want it back. All we have to do is figure out whose soul it is and return it. Maybe do a swap.”

“Swappy souls? Hmm, I wonder... Sounds like we need a locater spell.”

With bewildering speed and efficiency, Willow pulled a slim volume from her briefcase – Willow had a briefcase? – and turned to a well-thumbed page. “’Kay, here it is. Spike, Xander, clear some room.” As they moved furniture out of the way to make a space in the middle of the room, she reached deep into the case and extracted a bundle of foul-smelling herbs.

“Spike? I need some of your blood. It’ll contain a tincture of the soul that’s actually inhabiting your body so I can track down the original owner, and it should contain a smidgeon of your original soul so I can find that, too. Then, swapmeet!”

Xander and Willow watched in fascination as Spike switched to game face and, with surprising delicacy, punctured his wrist with a vicious looking canine. The wound healed almost instantaneously, but not before he caught a few drops of sluggishly escaping blood in the small stone bowl Willow handed him.

He handed it back. “That do, Red?”

“Perfect. Now, step back while I do the mojo. Just ignore any flashing lights and ear-splitting screams, ‘kay?”





Part Sixteen

Ignoring wasn’t an option as the room filled with whirling, multi-coloured lights and a brain-melting keening sound. Spike and Xander dropped to the floor, heads bent, trembling hands trying to decide whether to cover eyes or ears. The din quietened and they raised their heads to look up at the undoubtedly terrifying apparition Willow had summoned.

Then looked down.

“Well, that’s a bit of a disappointment.”

Xander nodded, scrambling to his feet. “Gotta say, I expected something…more. Bigger, butcher, scarier… Hi there, little guy.”

“Hewwo. Have you got my souw? I’ve been wooking for it evwywhere.”

“Not me, buddy,” he said, backing up rapidly when he noticed a mouthful of razor-sharp teeth and pointing at Spike. “It’s him.”

Spike jumped up gracefully. “Thanks, mate. Put me in the frame, why don’t you?” He raised the traditional eyebrow. “It’s a teddy bear.”

“It sure looks like a teddy bear.” Xander took a step forward and put a hand out to pet the animated plushie, then drew back again when it snarled.

“Ah, the teef explain the lithp. I mean, lisp. You’d know all about that, Blondie.”

“Oi! I don’t lisp when I’ve got my pointy teeth on.”

“Actually, you do. I just didn’t like to mention it. You were already trying to kill me and everyone I knew, so why push buttons?”

“Much as I love bantery Xander and Spike, can we get back to the point?” came the Voice of Reason.

“Willow, good job!” said Xander with an attempt at enthusiasm. She’d come a long way to help and deserved plaudits. “We have a very short demon with a pelt and many teeth in the room. We do what now?”

“Now,” said Willow, frantically thumbing through her spellbook, “they swap souls. Good start so far, huh?”

“Uh, yeah. He’s…it’s…he’s…here.”

“I’m a boy!” squeaked the plushie emphatically.

“Now, now, no need to get into a paddy. Anything you say, midget.” Spike circled the tiny demon. “So, you’ve got my soul, have you? Wanna give it back?”

“Owkay. Thwap.” Clearly realising who was in charge here, it waddled over to Willow and looked up at her imploringly.

Xander blanched and looked around for a weapon when she knelt down and scratched it behind one rounded ear, then stilled when it started to purr. Could be it looked more like a killer koala bear.

“It’s okay, cutie,” Willow crooned. “Spike’s got your soul and he wants his back, too. Let him pick you up. It’ll make it easier if you’re all cuddled up.”

“Red, I don’t cuddle.”

“You do now,” said Willow sharply. “Pick him up and try not to drop him. If this works, you may be cuddling up to Xander.”

Spike rushed to obey, daunted by the steely look in those usually soft green eyes and tempted by a quick glance at Xander’s assets.

“The second part of the spell is a bit more complicated. It needs some chanting. Ahem.” She closed her eyes in concentration and crossed her arms. “Ummmm, soulcome, ooommmmm, soulgo, oooooom, swappety, ooommmm.”

“Very Cole Porter, but it doesn’t seem to be doing anything...”

Spike twitched and dropped his burden, which promptly disappeared through the floor with a final ‘Fank ouuuuuuuuu’, then fell to the ground with an audible thump.

“Spike!” Xander slapped the comatose vamp gently on the cheeks while Willow rushed to the kitchen for a glass of water. “Come back to me, stupid vamp. You’re solid now.” Inspiration struck. “Sex!”

Magic word said, Spike opened his eyes and grinned. Evilly. And pulled Xander down.

Willow put the glass on the coffee table and sighed. “Xander. Xander? Xander! Excuse me. Are you listening?” Glaring at the writhing figures on the floor, she stamped her foot, but wasn’t too surprised by the lack of reaction.

“I should probably leave now. Next flight is in an hour. Anyone want to drive me to the airport? No? Anyone want to say ‘bye? I didn’t think so. Anyone want to call a cab? That’d be a big no.”

Xander surfaced for air long enough to pull his cell from his pocket and hand it over. “Speed dial 3,” then headed back to lips of Spike. “Mmmmmm.”





Epilogue

Xander yawned until his jaw cracked and stretched until his body popped, groaning as abused muscles creaked in protest. The bed bounced and he was suddenly enveloped by a cool, wriggling, multi-limbed demon. Oh yeah, now he remembered why everything ached. He grinned, pain forgotten, and planted a sloppy kiss on Spike’s nose.

“Hi, short, blond and sexy. Whatcha doing?”

“What do you think I’m doing? I’ve put on the coffee and now I’m sexually harassing you before breakfast, that’s what.”

“Call that harassment? Phtt. You’re an amateur. Now, this is how it should be done. Take notes.”

He flipped Spike over onto his back and straddled his hips, then sat down on the cock that never seemed to be limp. He sighed as it slid into him, the combination of slick and semen left over from the night’s fun and games easing its entry.

“Whatever you say... Aah, that’s so good, Xan. Move!”

Ever obliging, Xander grabbed the iron bedstead and started to bounce up and down enthusiastically while Spike took his cock in hand and pumped with the combination of firm and gentle, fast and slow, that always had Xander flinging his head back and howling, all too soon.

After mutual orgasms noisy enough to rouse deaf old Mrs Ramirez in the apartment below from a sound sleep, Spike pulled Xander down for a kiss, then nuzzled his cheek and whispered confidingly into his ear…

Xander stared at his boyfriend in disbelief. “You didn’t say that. Tell me you didn’t say that!”

“What? I thought you’d be pleased. Appreciative that I want to contribute to the household expenses, and all that palaver.”

“Spike, why would I be pleased at the idea of you working as a bouncer in a gay club?”

“Jealous, huh? You know I only have eyes for you…” Spike batted his eyelashes coquettishly, or a reasonable facsimile thereof, and Xander tried not to laugh. This was serious, dammit!

“Call me a moron, but I actually trust you. It’s the other guys I don’t trust. You’re like…like…catnip! One look at that ass and you’ll be more likely to cause a riot than stop one. What were they thinking when they hired you? Bouncers are supposed to be seven feet tall and 300 pounds, with broken noses and broccoli ears. Spot the discrepancy here.”

“Uh, that’s cauliflower ears, if I remember right.”

“Not that discrepancy,” Xander said through clenched teeth.

“Now, now, moron – you didn’t really expect me to pass up that invitation, did you? – you may be over-stating my gorgeousness and underestimating my interview technique. You’re not the only one who can be a wage slave, y’know. I just never bothered before. Why work when I can steal anything I want? Problem is, I’ve got a nasty suspicion you’d disapprove, with much nagging, if I practiced my special talents in your – our – new home town.” He looked hopefully at Xander.

“You can say that again, and twice on Sundays if you’re including the blood-sucking talents.”

Spike sighed unhappily. “Yeah, that’s what I thought.”

Pursuing that train of thought because it was less disturbing than the other topic on offer, Xander added, “Anyways, what if you got caught? I don’t think Cleveland’s boys in blue would take account of your special needs and toss you in a sun-free dungeon with a live food source. Not even a pig. Heh. I made a funny: police, pig – geddit?”

Spike’s lips twitched but his expression didn’t change. “Very original, and so hilarious I can barely contain my splitting sides.”

Xander poked out his tongue, then shuddered at the thought of going back to the far less pleasant days of satisfaction achieved with his own five fingers and an economy size jar of hand cream. He’d got used to the sex-on-demand…

He spaced out, snap images of the night before and ten minutes ago running through his head and down his spine until his cock half-filled and his balls tingled in anticipation.

Spike snapped his fingers in front of Xander’s face. “Pay attention, kid. I’m impressed by your recovery time, but more sex later. Back to the point for now, yeah? We’ve gotta get this straight. So to speak. My first shift is tonight and I don’t want to walk out of here while you’re pissed off.”

“Don’t call me ‘kid’ and, okay, explain this surreal concept of you putting on a suit and tie--”

“Uniform. Black leather uniform.”

“Uniform? Black leather?” Xander had to pinch his ear hard to keep from spacing out again. “Stop distracting me! I want to know what’s put this nutso idea in your head.”

“Simple. I reckon you want out of this tiny dump as much as I do, and we can’t get a mortgage and buy a condo on your pathetic--”

“I’ll pretend you weren’t going to say what you were definitely going to say. We’re just fine here, even if it is a tad on the compact side. My pay check is keeping me in Twinkies and pizza and you in blood – and pizza, hold the garlic - so where’d this sudden urge for more space come from? We only need one bedroom and it’s not like we throw a gazillion dinner parties. Or even one.”

“But it’d be nice to spread out a bit, you have to admit. A balcony’d be good, too.”

“So you can sunbathe at high noon, I suppose.”

Ignoring the crack, Spike continued, “Come on, be fair. At least visit the place with me before you make up your mind. It’s respectable, and all that. Well, respectable as a gay club can be. Tasteful, like. Even some of the Old Bill turn up there, and not with their handcuffs.” He smirked. “Well, not for official purposes, anyway; strictly in the interests of a fun time to be had by the bondage fans amongst the clientele.”


~*~*~*~*~


Right. Respectable. The club was in the seediest part of Cleveland, tucked away in a back street, behind a factory. Xander didn’t want to know what kind of factory; the smell emanating from it was enough. He looked at the large double doors and noted the peeling paint. “How the fuzzy hell did you hear about this place? Don’t tell me you’ve been hunting in these mean streets while I was asleep.”

“I never hunt any more,” said Spike virtuously. “You asked me not to on the not-so-subtle threat of a quick staking, remember? And not the good kind. I saw it under Help Wanted in the local rag, as it happens. Being a poet, even a bad one, means never having to say you can’t read. True, they didn’t actually specify that it was strictly for poofs--”

“Try not to be any more politically incorrect than you can help, Retro-boy. My 21st century ears are easily offended, and it turns out I’m a poof… I mean, gay.”

Spike sighed, rolled his eyes, pushed open a door and ushered Xander into The Lion’s Den.

“Okay, gotta admit it looks a lot better on the inside,” Xander said, staring admiringly at the discreet lighting, the plush leather sofas and well-stocked bar. The dance floor was heaving with men, and a few women, swaying to the insistent beat coming from loudspeakers fitted into pillars dotted around the club, some couples so closely entangled that a playing card couldn’t have fit between them.

“Hah, told you!” Spike said triumphantly. “Have a drink while I get changed into the uniform. Black leather, you might remember.”

Too preoccupied to rise to the bait, Xander looked around nervously. “You’re gonna leave me alone? Here?”

“Relax. No one’s going to jump you.”

“Riiiight. Hey! What’s wrong with me?!”

“Not a thing in the world, pet,” replied Spike, eying his boyfriend’s muscular form. “Not a single thing. I meant, no one will get pushy. And if some bonzo--”

“Bozo.”

“--gets within six feet, just give ‘em the fish eye and they’ll back off. Told you, it’s a respectable place.”

“Really. And who told you that?” asked Xander sceptically.

“The manager, when he interviewed me for the job.”

“Did it ever occur to you that any place that hires bouncers needs them for reasons of anticipated violence and assorted mayhem?”

“Just a precaution, is all,” Spike assured him confidently. “Grikkle explained it - makes the clients feel more comfortable.”

Before Xander could ask whether the manager was human, demon or somewhere in between, considering the exotic name, Spike disappeared behind the bar and through a door marked Staff Only. If Grikkle had demon heritage, it would explain why he was hot to hire a vampire bouncer. Spike was several times stronger than any heavyweight boxer and ten times as dirty in a fight.

Xander ordered a beer and settled on a bar stool to watch the floor show and ponder the touching naivety of the hundred plus-year-old vampire. His experiences at 'The Fabulous Ladies Night Club’ had been instructive. He wasn’t surprised when a chubby, snub-nosed redhead left the dance floor and made a beeline for him. He knew he looked like an easy mark.

“Hi, I’m Dave,” Gingernut said brightly. “Can I buy you a drink?”

“Thanks,” said Xander easily, “but I’m with someone.”

Dave’s face fell. “Oh. Well, let me know if he dives out on you and you want some…company. I’ll be right over there.” He pointed at the packed dance floor and Xander took a moment to doubt he’d even be able to find Willow in the melee, never mind someone he’d spoken to for a minute and a half.

“Sure, Dave. No problem.”

That was just the beginning, and Xander’s self-esteem soared as a steady stream of men approached him with invitations ranging from a polite offer of a drink to much less polite, and scarily graphic, offers to participate in various sex acts, some of which sounded physically impossible. He rebuffed them all with a sweet smile and a firm voice, but took mental notes to try out some of the suggestions on Spike next time they were in bed. Or in a restaurant, or a car, or an alleyway, or a restroom…

“Right, we’re out of here.”

“Huh?” Xander’s head swivelled and he turned to face Spike. If he squinted, he could almost see steam pouring from his vamp’s ears.

In a tone he probably thought was nonchalant, Spike continued, “I’ve changed my mind about this job opportunity. Don’t think it’s really my cuppa. You working days, me working nights; we’d never see one another unless,” Spike’s voice became even more strained, “you spent a lot of time here.”

Xander smothered a grin. He’d apparently been spied on by his territorial boyfriend. Unable to resist the irresistible: “Oh, I don’t know. It’s not so bad. Friendly, you know?”

“Friendly, my arse. It’s a raid waiting to happen and you can’t afford to lose your job owing to a spell in the big house.”

“That’s one of the many things I love about you, Spike: you always have my best interests at heart. Who knows when one of the patrons will whip out his badge and handcuffs in the non-fun way? There could be whistles involved.”

“Too right. Can never be too careful.”

“Let’s go home, ‘kay? We can pick up some Chinese and beer on the way.”

“Sounds good, pet.” Spike planted a smacker full on Xander’s mouth, draped an arm around his shoulders and began to steer him towards the front door.

“’Sides, I’ve had a brilliant idea. I could get a job as a strip-o-gram!”




The End




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