![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Whipping Boy, pt. 1
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike, Xander, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. These belong to Mutant Enemy and its creator, Joss Whedon.
Notes: Anya who? “The Wish” never happened.
“Well by now I've showed you how much I believe in the here and now and I wish that you knew…”
“Oi, whelp! You’re gonna get yourself killed if you don’t get outta there now!”
Heh. Not that it would matter all that much to Spike. But if he let the boy get killed, Slutty’d be after him. And that was one thing Spike did not want to deal with. His unlife was complicated enough as it was, thank you very much. Thanks to this buggering chip, he had to rely on the bloody Scoobies to get any blood. And sometimes it just wasn’t worth it, all the crap he had to go through.
“Shut-up, Spike! Just throw me that axe and we’ll be done with this guy, all right?”
Xander shouted towards the unliving one, while still trying to fight this K’merlkashiwhatever.
Figures, Xander thought, the one time Buffy decides to go out of town for a few days coincides with the same time that all the demons on earth decide to check into La Maison d’Hellmouth for a Hell On Earth convention with an all-you-can-eat buffet. And the Bleached Wonder certainly wasn’t about to chip his nail polish and help. Nosireebob. Just standing there watching him getting his butt kicked by whatever passed for hands on this thing.
“Ta, mate. Here’s your bloody axe – hope you lose a limb or four,” Spike said as he hurled the small but hefty weapon.
Xander immediately started whacking the thing in whatever spot he could get to. He didn’t have a whole lot of luck. The size and speed of the demon was pretty formidable, even for someone as astute in the art of hacking as the Xan-man was.
“You know – argh, I just – ah! Don’t under-uh-stand why you have to be su-ow-such a god-ah-damned-grr asshole!” Xander managed to snort out in between blows to the green machine in front of him.
Finally Xander found whatever spot on the thing that made it go “grr” and landed the sharp blade squarely into it. All of its…limbs…went down in a grumble and the bulk of the thing caused the earth to shake just a little bit.
“Told you, whelp, I. Don’t. Bloody. Like. You! How many times do I have to tell you gits before it finally sinks in? You know, you damn cadets might do an okay job of taking care of most of the riff-raff around here, but you’re all too bloody thick for your own good.”
Honestly, Spike thought, what did he have to do to get his point across? So what if it wasn’t true? That’s part of the package. Nasty evil vampires don’t tell the truth. And what’s more, his reputation was bad off enough by just shacking up with the whelp, let alone letting them think he actually *gasp* cared about them. Well, not all of them…
“Seriously Spike, I think you can drop the act now. It’s been, what, three months since your naughty nerve first got zapped? You’d think you’d figure out by now that *you* are in lurve with us- all of us. You might as well just face the music, fangless – you’re stuck like the last Snickers bar in the vending machine.”
Xander knew that was the only way to get under the vampire’s skin…well, not the only way, but the easiest. And there’s nothing better than a whiney ‘ole neutered vampire- especially when you live with him.
Stupid smarmy vampire who just has to sleep naked. Er, bug me while I’m trying to sleep. Whining about the fact that the night is his ‘awake time’ and that it’s his ‘killing time’ and… some other stuff Xander so did not want to know about Spike’s nocturnal habits.
“Oi, mate. I’d be amazed by what you could do with your mouth if it wasn’t running off all the time.” Blink. Blink. “You know what I bloody well mean, stop sniggering over there.”
“Again, I say, whatever, Spike. Can we just pack up and go back home?” Xander started to pick up all the weapons that had been dropped when he didn’t scream like a girl and almost run away when this whatsit-demon decided to pop up out of nowhere.
“If you call that home, whelp. S’more like a crypt with spliced cable and sometimes working plumbing. Hell, my crypt was better off, than yours. At least mine was free of the crazy upstairs neighbors better known as your loving parents.”
Spike just couldn’t figure why Harris wouldn’t just move out, already. He had the money – Spike found that out by snooping through the boy’s not-so-secret-anymore stash of emergency money and Hershey’s bars.
Honestly, you’d think the boy enjoyed being emotionally kicked like a rabies-infested puppy, the way he puts up with the Tosser Twosome’s crap. Not that the mum was all that bad, but what was bad was how she stood back and let everything happen all this time. Seriously, the lady should grow some balls…er, something.
“And that’s another thing, Spike. My name is Xander. X-A-N-D-E-R. Why is it so very hard for you to say it? Name’s not ‘whelp’ or ‘boy’ or ‘coffee kid’ or even ‘mate’. So why can’t you just call me by my name?”
Xander had just finished putting all the weapons into the large burlap bag he had taken from his last job as the lowest form of stock-boy at the Potato Bin, when he heard a sound behind him. He turned just fast enough to see one of the arms- or branches or tentacles or whatever the hell they were- from the thing he had killed come crashing down onto his head. The next thing he knew, there was a burning pain on the back of his left thigh, just below his ass cheek.
“Lookout, Harris! Bugger, too late.” Without even thinking about it, Spike was at Xander’s side in the blink of an undead eye and hefting the axe Xander had forgotten was in his hand at the bulk of what was left of the Sludge Monster From Hell. After dropping the axe on it a few hundred times, Spike was satisfied that it was, indeed, dead, or at least what passed for harmless squishy-ness. Spike quickly turned to find Xander sitting up, looking a little dazed but okay none-the-less.
“Har-Xander, are you okay?” Spike asked while extending his hand to help Xander up.
“What?” Xander looked around and for a second couldn’t quite remember what had happened. He could have sworn that Jesse had been standing right beside him a second ago, which was of course impossible. Xander had killed Jesse years earlier.
But now everything swam into focus – including the excruciating almost-blinding pain in his head.
“Oh, ow, ow…”
And then it was gone. But left behind was a sort of dizzy nauseous-making feeling. Wasn’t bad though, considering the incredible amount of pain he had been in only moments before.
“Um…yeah, I think so. What happened? One second I’m talking to you, and the next thing I know – WHAMMO! Someone’s playing whack-a-mole. With me as the mole.”
Xander took Spike’s hand and stood up just a little too quickly and wound up falling into Spike. Spike instinctively wrapped his arm around Xander’s shoulders to steady him.
“And this is what we call the Tilt-a-Whirl, boys and girls. Oh. I don’t feel so good. Can we just go home now?”
Xander’s entire world was spinning, but oddly he felt grounded somehow. It wasn’t until everything stopped doing the Poseidon Adventure that he realized the weight around his shoulders and the support of someone holding him. And oddly enough, it didn’t feel quite that bad at all. Of course, anything but spinning fit into the category of not-bad.
“Sure, mate. We better get you home an’ cleaned up. You got quite a knock on your noggin, there. You were right – the nasty wasn’t quite as dead as you thought it was, and it came back steamed.”
Spike picked up the bag of tools with his free hands and slung it over his shoulder. Worried about toppling Xander over again, he strengthened his hold on him.
“Ouch.” Xander whimpered.
“Sorry. Sometimes forget my own strength, I do,” Spike said and went to lose his hold of the boy.
“No, it’s not that. The pain’s just kind of moving around, is all.” Xander shook his head to clear his vision some more. Things were still just a little fuzzy around the edges. I’m sure I’ll feel a lot better in the morning, he thought.
“Oh, okay.” Spike returned his hand where it was and turned them due Dooms-way. “Right, then, let’s get home, shall we, Xander?”
“Sounds good to me, Spike.” Blink. Blink. “Did you just call me Xander?”
“Yeah…S’pose I did. Don’t get used to it though, whelp.”
“Don’t worry about that, my undead friend. Living on the Hellmouth for eighteen years, you don’t get used to anything. Err…maybe you get used to too much? Whatever, the point is – “
“Why don’t we save this injury-laden conversation for another night, eh?” Spike asked and finally got the boy walking, seemingly painlessly, towards the Roach Motel.
“Riiiggght…” Xander let Spike lead him all the way home, pretending not to notice how nice it was to have Spike’s arm around him, and to let Spike take care of him, and put him into bed. Xander’s last thought of the night was that maybe the demon-that-wouldn’t-die-till-it-was-killed had hit him a lot harder on the head than he thought, if he actually liked this last part of the evening – post Godzilla Crunch – spent with Spike.
Next Part here.
Author:
chocgood84Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17 eventually
Disclaimer: I don’t own Spike, Xander, or Buffy the Vampire Slayer. These belong to Mutant Enemy and its creator, Joss Whedon.
Notes: Anya who? “The Wish” never happened.
“Well by now I've showed you how much I believe in the here and now and I wish that you knew…”
“Oi, whelp! You’re gonna get yourself killed if you don’t get outta there now!”
Heh. Not that it would matter all that much to Spike. But if he let the boy get killed, Slutty’d be after him. And that was one thing Spike did not want to deal with. His unlife was complicated enough as it was, thank you very much. Thanks to this buggering chip, he had to rely on the bloody Scoobies to get any blood. And sometimes it just wasn’t worth it, all the crap he had to go through.
“Shut-up, Spike! Just throw me that axe and we’ll be done with this guy, all right?”
Xander shouted towards the unliving one, while still trying to fight this K’merlkashiwhatever.
Figures, Xander thought, the one time Buffy decides to go out of town for a few days coincides with the same time that all the demons on earth decide to check into La Maison d’Hellmouth for a Hell On Earth convention with an all-you-can-eat buffet. And the Bleached Wonder certainly wasn’t about to chip his nail polish and help. Nosireebob. Just standing there watching him getting his butt kicked by whatever passed for hands on this thing.
“Ta, mate. Here’s your bloody axe – hope you lose a limb or four,” Spike said as he hurled the small but hefty weapon.
Xander immediately started whacking the thing in whatever spot he could get to. He didn’t have a whole lot of luck. The size and speed of the demon was pretty formidable, even for someone as astute in the art of hacking as the Xan-man was.
“You know – argh, I just – ah! Don’t under-uh-stand why you have to be su-ow-such a god-ah-damned-grr asshole!” Xander managed to snort out in between blows to the green machine in front of him.
Finally Xander found whatever spot on the thing that made it go “grr” and landed the sharp blade squarely into it. All of its…limbs…went down in a grumble and the bulk of the thing caused the earth to shake just a little bit.
“Told you, whelp, I. Don’t. Bloody. Like. You! How many times do I have to tell you gits before it finally sinks in? You know, you damn cadets might do an okay job of taking care of most of the riff-raff around here, but you’re all too bloody thick for your own good.”
Honestly, Spike thought, what did he have to do to get his point across? So what if it wasn’t true? That’s part of the package. Nasty evil vampires don’t tell the truth. And what’s more, his reputation was bad off enough by just shacking up with the whelp, let alone letting them think he actually *gasp* cared about them. Well, not all of them…
“Seriously Spike, I think you can drop the act now. It’s been, what, three months since your naughty nerve first got zapped? You’d think you’d figure out by now that *you* are in lurve with us- all of us. You might as well just face the music, fangless – you’re stuck like the last Snickers bar in the vending machine.”
Xander knew that was the only way to get under the vampire’s skin…well, not the only way, but the easiest. And there’s nothing better than a whiney ‘ole neutered vampire- especially when you live with him.
Stupid smarmy vampire who just has to sleep naked. Er, bug me while I’m trying to sleep. Whining about the fact that the night is his ‘awake time’ and that it’s his ‘killing time’ and… some other stuff Xander so did not want to know about Spike’s nocturnal habits.
“Oi, mate. I’d be amazed by what you could do with your mouth if it wasn’t running off all the time.” Blink. Blink. “You know what I bloody well mean, stop sniggering over there.”
“Again, I say, whatever, Spike. Can we just pack up and go back home?” Xander started to pick up all the weapons that had been dropped when he didn’t scream like a girl and almost run away when this whatsit-demon decided to pop up out of nowhere.
“If you call that home, whelp. S’more like a crypt with spliced cable and sometimes working plumbing. Hell, my crypt was better off, than yours. At least mine was free of the crazy upstairs neighbors better known as your loving parents.”
Spike just couldn’t figure why Harris wouldn’t just move out, already. He had the money – Spike found that out by snooping through the boy’s not-so-secret-anymore stash of emergency money and Hershey’s bars.
Honestly, you’d think the boy enjoyed being emotionally kicked like a rabies-infested puppy, the way he puts up with the Tosser Twosome’s crap. Not that the mum was all that bad, but what was bad was how she stood back and let everything happen all this time. Seriously, the lady should grow some balls…er, something.
“And that’s another thing, Spike. My name is Xander. X-A-N-D-E-R. Why is it so very hard for you to say it? Name’s not ‘whelp’ or ‘boy’ or ‘coffee kid’ or even ‘mate’. So why can’t you just call me by my name?”
Xander had just finished putting all the weapons into the large burlap bag he had taken from his last job as the lowest form of stock-boy at the Potato Bin, when he heard a sound behind him. He turned just fast enough to see one of the arms- or branches or tentacles or whatever the hell they were- from the thing he had killed come crashing down onto his head. The next thing he knew, there was a burning pain on the back of his left thigh, just below his ass cheek.
“Lookout, Harris! Bugger, too late.” Without even thinking about it, Spike was at Xander’s side in the blink of an undead eye and hefting the axe Xander had forgotten was in his hand at the bulk of what was left of the Sludge Monster From Hell. After dropping the axe on it a few hundred times, Spike was satisfied that it was, indeed, dead, or at least what passed for harmless squishy-ness. Spike quickly turned to find Xander sitting up, looking a little dazed but okay none-the-less.
“Har-Xander, are you okay?” Spike asked while extending his hand to help Xander up.
“What?” Xander looked around and for a second couldn’t quite remember what had happened. He could have sworn that Jesse had been standing right beside him a second ago, which was of course impossible. Xander had killed Jesse years earlier.
But now everything swam into focus – including the excruciating almost-blinding pain in his head.
“Oh, ow, ow…”
And then it was gone. But left behind was a sort of dizzy nauseous-making feeling. Wasn’t bad though, considering the incredible amount of pain he had been in only moments before.
“Um…yeah, I think so. What happened? One second I’m talking to you, and the next thing I know – WHAMMO! Someone’s playing whack-a-mole. With me as the mole.”
Xander took Spike’s hand and stood up just a little too quickly and wound up falling into Spike. Spike instinctively wrapped his arm around Xander’s shoulders to steady him.
“And this is what we call the Tilt-a-Whirl, boys and girls. Oh. I don’t feel so good. Can we just go home now?”
Xander’s entire world was spinning, but oddly he felt grounded somehow. It wasn’t until everything stopped doing the Poseidon Adventure that he realized the weight around his shoulders and the support of someone holding him. And oddly enough, it didn’t feel quite that bad at all. Of course, anything but spinning fit into the category of not-bad.
“Sure, mate. We better get you home an’ cleaned up. You got quite a knock on your noggin, there. You were right – the nasty wasn’t quite as dead as you thought it was, and it came back steamed.”
Spike picked up the bag of tools with his free hands and slung it over his shoulder. Worried about toppling Xander over again, he strengthened his hold on him.
“Ouch.” Xander whimpered.
“Sorry. Sometimes forget my own strength, I do,” Spike said and went to lose his hold of the boy.
“No, it’s not that. The pain’s just kind of moving around, is all.” Xander shook his head to clear his vision some more. Things were still just a little fuzzy around the edges. I’m sure I’ll feel a lot better in the morning, he thought.
“Oh, okay.” Spike returned his hand where it was and turned them due Dooms-way. “Right, then, let’s get home, shall we, Xander?”
“Sounds good to me, Spike.” Blink. Blink. “Did you just call me Xander?”
“Yeah…S’pose I did. Don’t get used to it though, whelp.”
“Don’t worry about that, my undead friend. Living on the Hellmouth for eighteen years, you don’t get used to anything. Err…maybe you get used to too much? Whatever, the point is – “
“Why don’t we save this injury-laden conversation for another night, eh?” Spike asked and finally got the boy walking, seemingly painlessly, towards the Roach Motel.
“Riiiggght…” Xander let Spike lead him all the way home, pretending not to notice how nice it was to have Spike’s arm around him, and to let Spike take care of him, and put him into bed. Xander’s last thought of the night was that maybe the demon-that-wouldn’t-die-till-it-was-killed had hit him a lot harder on the head than he thought, if he actually liked this last part of the evening – post Godzilla Crunch – spent with Spike.
Next Part here.