Rating: NC17/Slash
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Length: 4043 words
Spoilers: Through BtVS ‘Chosen’ and Ats ‘Damage’
Summary: Spike goes to Africa.
Notes: Written for [info]summer_of_spike v 2.0.
Feedback: It’s ALL about the feedback (and naked Spike)! Don’t make me beg, it’s not pretty.
Disclaimer: Buffy the Vampire Slayer and Angel the series, characters and concepts are the property, copyright and trademark of Joss Whedon, Mutant Enemy, Kuzui Enterprises, Grr Argh, the WB, UPN and whomever else they really belong to. No ownership is claimed by the author. This work is nonprofit, noncommercial and not for sale for commercial purposes. Characters and situations not specifically owned by the creators of BtVS/Ats or under copyright, are the sole copyright of the author.
Thanks: To [info]truly_tazi and [info]velvetwhip for the beta. I appreciate your help more than words can say. *hugs & kisses*
Written: July 18, 2005



Spike had nothing to do with his time but think. Fred came to visit him several times during the day, but other than Angel’s single pity-visit, Spike had seen no one else. On one of her early visits, Fred had shown up with an Xbox and several video games. He figured that she knew how bored he was, but was too polite to mention his lack of visitors. She merely told him that it would help him regain dexterity in his recently reattached hands.

He’d thanked her politely, because it was Fred, after all, and tried to look as excited as she sounded while she hooked it up to the television. After she’d left, he’d set the controllers and games aside. He had no intention of playing such a poncey game. This was more a-a-a loser like Harris’ speed than a formerly-evil-but-still-not-a-nerd-ta-very-much vampire’s. Until complete and utter boredom made him pick up the controllers and figure out how to play the game Fred had already inserted into the console.

Between games, Spike thought about Xander. He’d pushed Andrew’s revelations about what each of the Sunnydale crew was up to to the back of his mind, but now, lying in the Wolfram & Hart medical ward with only Fred’s occasional visits and the Xbox to keep his mind occupied, Spike remembered.

Xander’s in Africa.

Xander’s in Africa.

Xander’s in Africa.

It reverberated through his head and he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Was the new Watcher’s Council made up of total idiots? Well, given that Andrew had come to Angel’s gang billed as Giles’ ‘top guy’, that was altogether possible. But, bloody hell! To send Xander to Africa, of all places. That was beyond stupid. It was unmitigated lunacy, is what it was.

The boy was a bleedin’ demon magnet, and Africa was the oldest bastion of demon-kind. And he’d been sent there without any soddin’ protection to collect a bunch of slayers who didn’t know what they were and hadn’t yet been trained how to use their newfound power.

Spike thought about the others, especially Buffy, but he didn’t worry about them the way he worried about Xander. Buffy was off the front line and busy playing big sis to the Bit, which was exactly what both of them needed; Willow had Kennedy watching her back, not that she needed it these days; and Giles had taken Andrew under his wing and was grooming him to be part of the next generation of Watchers.

Which left Xander. And that boy had no instinct for self-preservation at all. After fretting about Xander’s safety for a couple of days, though he’d stake himself before admitting it to anyone, Spike decided to take matters into his own hands. Such as they were.

On her next visit, Spike requested a phone from Fred. She brought him one immediately without giving him the third degree or even raising an eyebrow at his request. When she’d left him alone, he stared at the phone, studying it as he did any enemy. He dialed the international code for England, and then quickly hung up and stuffed the phone under his pillow.

Later that night, when the sun was just coming up over England, Spike pulled the phone out and dialed the number he’d memorized despite pretending he hadn’t been listening to Andrew’s blithering. The phone rang twice, and then there was a ‘click’ as the answering machine picked up. Andrew’s electronically-saved voice was transmitted over the line. “Hello, you’ve reached the new and improved Watcher’s Council....”

“Hello, hello, don’t hang up!”

Spike heard the sound of buttons being pushed frantically while the recorded message played on in the background. Finally, the message shut off in the middle of Andrew’s spiel about which extension to dial to report a demon sighting.

“Sorry, sorry,” Andrew breathed heavily into Spike’s ear. “You’ve reached the new and improved Watcher’s Council, Andrew Wells speaking. How may I help you? Hello? Is anyone there? I apologize that the machine picked up, but I had to.... Well, that’s not really important. What is important is that we’re open for business. In fact, we’re always open for business; the Watcher’s Council never sleeps. Well, individually we sleep. I sleep. But there’s always someone here to deal with your needs, be they related to....”

Spike sighed. “Will you shut it, Andrew?”

The sudden silence on the other end of the line was deafening.


“Yeah,” Spike drawled.

“Spike!” Andrew squealed, and Spike held the phone away from his ear and rolled his eyes. “I can’t believe you called! This is the most exciting thing since rumors hit the ‘Net that they’re bringing back Doctor Who. So, what’s up? What’re you doing?”

Sensing a break in Andrew’s babble, Spike snarled, “Recovering the use of my hands, after your psycho slayer lopped ‘em off.”

There was a moment of silence, then, “Your hands? Your beautiful hands?”

Spike felt a teensy bit bad when he heard the concern in Andrew’s voice. “Yeah, well, Wolfram & Hart reattached ‘em. Nearly good as new now.” He flexed his fingers. “Fred bought me an Xbox to, you know, work on my dexterity.”

“Really? What games...?”

Spike interrupted. “That’s not why I called.”

“Oh, right. Listen, Spike, I’m sorry about the way things ended. You know, between us. I had my orders. It was nothing personal. And if I’d known....”

“Water under the bridge.”

“If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you....”

“Actually, there is. Need a bit of information.”

“Information? Oh. Um, okay. If I can.”

“Good, Andrew, appreciate it,” Spike said, thinking about flies and honey.

“So, um, what do you need to know?”

“I want to know where Xander is.”

“Oh, that’s easy! He’s in Africa. Didn’t I already tell you that?”

“Yeah, where in Africa?”

There was a moment of silence, and then Andrew asked, “Why do you want to know?”

Spike wondered how much he’d need to reveal to get the information out of Andrew. “Thought I might pay him a visit,” he told him.

“As a representative of Wolfram & Hart?” Andrew asked warily.

“Don’t work for Wolfram & Hart,” Spike replied. “Just ask the big man himself.”

“Then why...?”

“As a...friend,” Spike admitted.

“Are you coming back?” Andrew asked, his tone full of wonder. “Leaving that stronghold of evil and returning to the bosom of....”


“Is this a secure line?”

Spike took the phone away from his ear and studied it, then replaced it. “What?”

“I’m sorry, Spike, but this is the Wolf, Ram and Hart we’re talking about here. No telling what they’d do with this kind of information.”

“The whereabouts of one Xander Harris?” Spike asked incredulously. He was concerned about Xander because he could too easily become demon chow, not because Wolfram & Hart would go after him.

“He plays a key role in our fight against evil, not to mention being best friends with Buffy, Vampyre Slayer extraordinaire, and a lesbian witch with beaucoup magickal abilities. Who knows what kind of nefarious plans....”

“Andrew,” Spike growled, almost sorry he’d called, “I’m calling on a Wolfram & Hart cell phone from the Wolfram & Hart medical facilities.”

“Hmmm. Call me when you get out. I’ll have the information for you then.”

There was a ‘click’, shortly followed by the dial tone. Spike glared at the phone before turning it off and placing it on the table beside the bed. The poncey little git had hung up on him!

Two weeks later the Wolfram & Hart jet landed at a private airstrip in Kenya. Spike had learned from Andrew that Xander had found four slayers who were to be delivered to the Watcher’s Council’s tender care via private plane at this small airport. Xander would turn them over to the Watcher’s Council representative for the trip back to London, and then he’d set off again to continue his search. Andrew didn’t know where Xander was heading next, as he relied mainly on rumor and campfire stories to choose his path, but Spike didn’t care where he was going, so long as he took Spike with him.

The jet put down several hours after sunset and Spike sauntered down the metal stairs that had been rolled up to the hatch with just the clothes on his back, the duffel thrown over his shoulders, and the credit card he’d stolen from Angel in his pocket. He planned to turn it into a used vehicle that might offer him some protection from the sunlight (since Andrew had told him that Xander had refused Council funds to purchase even an old, beat up jalopy), and as many funds as he could get via the cash advance function before Angel realized the card had been stolen and cancelled it.

The pilot and her crew never disembarked, just refueled and headed back to L.A. Spike lit a cigarette and watched from the bench outside the small airport until he could no longer see it. He should probably feel like he was losing a piece of himself, or a piece of his past at least, the way Angel had fallen all over himself getting Spike out of L.A. and extracting a promise that he would never return.

Since Angel was providing him with a ride to Africa (as well as the credit card, though he wasn’t yet aware of that fact), Spike made the promise without taking the piss out of him. Too much. Of course, he crossed his fingers behind his back.

Instead of feeling loss, Spike felt like he was going home. He wasn’t surprised, after spending over one hundred years with Dru, that home for him would be a person rather than a place. What did surprise him was that home was Xander.

Spike hitched a ride into town and then familiarized himself with the layout, noting the used auto dealerships as well as the café Xander had chosen for his meeting with the Watcher’s Council rep and the butcher’s establishment. Finally he stood outside the motel where Andrew had made reservations after Xander contacted Giles to let them know he’d collected four slayers, and to arrange for their retrieval. Turns out Africa, home to many demon races, abounded with slayers.

He dropped his duffel in the room Andrew had reserved for him and heated up some of the blood that had been stocked in the small fridge. Having used up all but an hour or so of darkness, Spike showered and hit the sack, hoping anticipation wouldn’t keep him awake until the alarm went off.

Spike was waiting expectantly when he heard the key in the lock. He stood with his back to the wall, one knee bent and the booted foot flat against the wall, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth. The door was slowly being pushed open; its progress halted suddenly when a female voice Spike didn’t recognize said, “Xander, I sense something.”

“What is it?”

The dark timbre of Xander’s voice washed over Spike and caused him to shiver with anticipation. It sounded hoarse, as if Xander hadn’t slept for a while; unused, like he didn’t speak quite as much as he used to.

“Vampire. I think.”

“Me too.”


“Well, it’s daylight, so it’s not outside. Do you think there might be one hiding inside one of these rooms?”

“Maybe.” She sounded uncertain.

“All right. Well, let’s see if we can....”

Xander pushed the door the rest of the way open and Spike kept half an eye on the patch of sunlight he was letting into the room. He stepped into the room and dumped his duffel onto the chair next to the door before noticing the unmade bed...and then the vampire standing beside it. He yelped. Spike smirked.

“What’s wrong?”

Xander was immediately pushed further into the room as four tiny slayers entered the room behind him. He wore a robe to protect him from the sun, but the parts of him that Spike could see had been tanned a dark chestnut. He was dirty and covered in sweat. He was beautiful.

“I found your vampire,” he told them, never taking his eye off Spike. It was almost as if he was afraid Spike would disappear if he looked away.

“Do you need...?”

“No way! It’s my turn, you had the last one.”

“Sorry girls,” Xander said quietly, “this one’s mine.”

“Do you need to borrow my stake?”

Spike raised an eyebrow as he ran his eyes over Xander, who blushed at the obvious leer.

“Thanks, but that won’t be necessary. You’ll get your formal introductions later, but for now, this is Spike. We need to talk, so you girls go find your rooms, shower, rest.”

“But he’s a vampire,” one of the girls protested.

“He’s helped us before,” Xander explained. “Go on. I’ll come get you for supper.”

“Okay,” all four chorused before they left the room, obviously willing to trust Xander, even if they weren’t sure about Spike.

Xander closed the door behind them, locked it, and then turned and leaned against it as he studied Spike in the darkened room.

“Are you real?”

Spike flicked ash off the cigarette to give himself something to do, then stuck it back between his lips. He’d thought about all the things he’d have to tell Xander, but it didn’t make the words any easier to say. Best to get it over with, so they could get on to the good stuff.

“Was a ghostie for a bit, all solid now, though.” He thumped his chest.

Xander swallowed hard. “What happened? I mean, Buffy said....”

“She said what?” Spike interrupted. “That I was a hero, a champion?” he mocked.

“She said that you were...dead.” Xander’s voice cracked. “Dead-dead, not undead...dead.”

Spike could see the tears glistening in Xander’s eye, though they hadn’t yet spilled over. He shrugged. “Was. Painful, that. Being a hero? Not all it’s cracked up to be, ta very much.” He ground the cigarette out on the table.

“So...?” Xander gestured at Spike.

“Why’d I come back?”

“Well, I can figure out why you came back, but how?”

“You can figure that, huh? Then why’d I come back?”

“Buffy,” Xander said immediately.

“Hmm.” Spike wasn’t surprised that Xander thought that, but he found that he was, what, hurt?, that Xander hadn’t put two and two together and figured out why Spike was in Africa. “Actually, I had nothing to do with coming back. One minute I’m burning to death inside the Hellmouth and the next I’m standing in Angel’s office at Wolfram & Hart. Had something to do with that bloody amulet the poof gave Buffy.”

He pulled out another cigarette. “Fred said I wasn’t a ghost, exactly, but I could walk through walls and I couldn’t touch anything. Eventually I figured out that if I concentrated hard enough....” He jabbed his cigarette at Xander. “...I could touch things. Pick up a cup, that sort of thing. Punched someone, once.” He smiled at the memory.

“I tried to leave once, back when I first came back, but I couldn’t. I reached the city limits and was bounced back to Wolfram & Hart. You have any idea how much it sucked, not being able to get away from that sad sack Angel?” He bounced onto the bed and leaned against the headboard. Xander was still standing by the door, using it for support.

“Fred tried to figure out how to turn me corporeal....” He shook his head at the memory of how that had turned out. “Then one day I got this package in the mail. Harm opened it and ‘poof!’, here I am again.” His lips curled up in a sneer and he gave a little shimmy of his hips.


“Harmony,” Spike said, taking a drag off the cigarette. “Angel’s ‘Administrative Assistant’.”

“No way.”


They both grinned, then Xander’s faded.

“So you didn’t come back for Buffy?”

“My return was not an expression of free will in any way, shape, or form,” he said, emphasizing his point with the cigarette. “Got my hands chopped off,” he said out of the blue, and then cursed himself. He wasn’t looking for pity.

Xander’s eye moved between Spike’s hands and his brow furrowed in confusion. “They put ‘em back.”

“Ah. What happened?” He gestured to Spike’s hands.

“Psycho slayer.” He stubbed the cigarette out on the table, adding one more cigarette burn to the design he was creating.

“Dana?” Spike glanced up. “Uh, when I spoke to Andrew...he was all excited about Giles sending him to L.A. to pick her up. He didn’t mention you, though.”

“He wanted to tell Buffy for me. Asked him not to. Told me what you lot were up to, though.” Spike stretched out and put his hands behind his head. “You gonna stand there all night?”

“So you know Buffy’s in Rome,” Xander said, almost making it sound like a question. He didn’t move away from the door.

“Yes. With Dawn. And the witch is in Brazil.”

“And you....”

“I’m in Africa.”

“Yeah. Why?”

“Because you are in Africa, you sorry git!” Spike angrily kicked his unlaced boots off and they flew across the room. “And we have unfinished business,” he added softly, and then pulled his t-shirt off.

Xander’s heart was racing and he was breathing fast and hard, as if he’d just run a race. The smell of Xander’s arousal filled Spike’s nostrils and he groaned as he slid his hand beneath the waistband of his jeans. Fuck he’d missed this! Suddenly there was a weight on the bed and fingers tightly gripping his wrist. Xander pulled his hand out of his jeans and kissed the tip of each finger.

“You made me a promise,” Spike whispered.

“If we made it....” Xander kissed his palm. “You didn’t make it,” he said brokenly, adding, “You ass.”

“Here now,” Spike said, and then Xander was kissing him.

Xander kissed him all over, telling Spike between kisses that he, “God, gotta taste you,” and “Missed you,” and “Mine.”

The kisses turned to licks and sucks, and Spike knew he was gonna have red marks decorating his body when Xander was done. With a quick ‘snap!’, his fly was undone and his jeans tugged down. Before he could react, Xander’s mouth closed over him.

“Shit! Oh, yeah, Xander, yeah, just like that. Oh...fuck!” Sooner than he liked, Spike was coming. Xander swallowed it all, then slid up the bed and kissed Spike again. He let himself remember how Xander could never get enough of him. How he’d loved to touch him and kiss him and hold him.

Spike held Xander’s face between his hands and looked into his eye. “Want you to fuck me, Xander.”

Clothes went flying and Xander was back on the bed before Spike had a chance to miss him. Hell, his boy looked good. He ran his hands over Xander’s firm, tanned body. “Missed you,” he said. “Need you.”

“God, yes,” Xander said as he crawled between Spike’s legs. He hesitated. “I don’t have anything.”

Spike reached beneath the pillow and pulled out the lube he’d brought with him. Xander grinned at him.

“You must think I’m easy,” he said as he took the bottle and opened it, squirting the slick onto his fingers and then pressing them between Spike’s cheeks.

Spike bent his knees and let them fall to the sides. “Was countin’ on it,” he groaned as Xander slid a finger inside him. “Hurry.”

“No. Gonna take my time.” Xander closed his eye as his finger moved inside Spike, and then he pulled it out and pushed in with two. “I can’t believe you’re here.” He opened his eye and looked at Spike. “I can’t believe you’re here.”

Spike grabbed for the bedding as Xander touched everything inside him, pumping his fingers in and out nice and slow, rubbing them over his prostate until he was begging Xander to, “Please, damn it, fuck me!”

Instead, Xander lowered his head and licked a nipple, then sucked it before moving his attentions to the other. He added a third finger, but didn’t speed up the fucking. Spike moved his hips, driving himself onto Xander’s fingers.

“Xander, I swear, if you don’t fuck me, I’ll....”

“You’ll what?” Xander asked, and Spike heard the challenge in his voice. “What will you do, Spike? Will you leave me?” Finally, finally Xander’s fingers moved faster.

“No, you prat, I’ll do it my bloody self, is what I’ll do,” Spike ground out.

Xander froze, then slowly lifted his head up to look at Spike. He could tell that Xander was fighting a grin. “That didn’t come out right.”

The grin broke through and transformed Xander’s face, and then his eye glazed over. “Do it,” he said. “Fuck yourself, Spike. On my fingers.”

“Oh hell,” Spike nearly whimpered, and then began to move again. Faster. Fucking himself as Xander watched his fingers sliding in and out of Spike’s ass. He slammed himself down harder, trying to get Xander deeper. “Xander, please!”

“What?” Xander kissed him. “What do you want, Spike?”

“You,” Spike groaned. “Want your pretty cock inside my ass.”


“Gorgeous, manly cock,” Spike corrected. “Huge.”

Xander grinned again, then licked Spike’s ear. “Flattery will get you everywhere,” he whispered, slowly pulling his fingers out and wiping the excess slick onto his cock.

“I know,” Spike grunted as Xander pushed into him. “Yeah, yeah, missed this. Missed you. Fuck me, Xander.”

And Xander did. Xander fucked him as if he’d been saving up for this. He touched Spike just right, and made all those needy noises that told Spike how much he was enjoying it.

“Come on, Xander,” Spike urged, remembering how much the sound of his voice turned Xander on. “Want you to come inside me. Need to feel you coming inside me.”

“Bastard,” Xander panted against his lips. “Fuck, Spike!”

Spike felt Xander’s nice thick cock pulsing in his ass, filling him with fluid that warmed him from the inside. This was what he’d been missing. This was home. He whispered Xander’s name as he exploded between them. Xander, limbs still twitching, lowered himself onto Spike and Spike wrapped his arms around him. He let himself remember the many times they’d lain like this, holding each other while they recovered from orgasms that could only be more powerful if blood was involved.

“We’ll need a truck. Maybe something with an attached camper.” Xander was playing with Spike’s fingers while he mused.

They’d been talking about Spike’s intentions to join Xander in his quest for slayers. “‘Sides, you need someone to watch your back,” he’d concluded his arguments. Xander had merely raised an eyebrow. “Don’t give me that! You’re a demon magnet, and you know it!”

“Well, I attracted you,” Xander had replied thoughtfully.

“You did indeed,” Spike said, pushing a come-slicked finger into Xander, which had started another round of love making.

“I figured,” he answered now. “Andrew said you didn’t have one, so I came prepared.”

“You brought a car?”

“No. Git.” He reached over the edge of the bed and fished the stolen credit card out of his jeans pocket, and then pressed it to Xander’s chest. Xander picked it up and squinted as he read it. “Angel’s buying,” Spike added.

Xander handed the card back to him and Spike tossed it carelessly towards the table.

“Does he know?” Xander asked.

Spike grinned. “Will when he gets the bill.”

“You know, the Watcher’s Council will spring for a truck,” Xander began.

Spike rolled over onto him, pulled his knees up and thrust lightly. “They can buy the next one,” he said over Xander’s moan. “How long ‘til we gotta go get the baby slayers?”

“Uh, not sure.” Xander looked around for the clock they’d knocked off the table. “Is this one gonna be slow, or fast?”

“Slow,” Spike said, and thrust again. He captured Xander’s lips, thrusting his tongue into Xander’s mouth in time with his thrusts against him. When he finally lifted his head Xander was breathing hard and his fingers were leaving bruises on Spike’s hips as he gripped them tightly and used them as leverage to push up against Spike.

“Or not,” he allowed, and bent his head to Xander once more.

The End

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