Whipping Boy pt 4

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Title: Whipping Boy, pt. 4
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. This is *not* a PWP. Though I may enjoy reading them, I can't write them. This is a purely H/C indulgence of mine.

“You spilled your purse onto my bed
Searching for something for your head”

“P’istriportendo-soporis!” Giles exclaimed, jumping up out of the chair he had been sitting in, knocking over his tea in the process, “Oh, bullocks. I just picked these trousers up from the dry-cleaners.”

“What are you on about, Watcher?” Spike gave him the eyebrow-arch from where he sat on the bed, next to Xander. He was continuing to change the water and the cloth to help bring down Xander’s fever. So far he hadn’t had much luck with it.

“P’istriportendo-soporis. That’s the name of the demon – er, I think it is. Here, look at the drawing.” Giles wormed his way through the piles of books and scrolls he had retrieved from his flat. He held out an ancient-looking (and weren’t they all?) book to Spike. Spike took the tome from the watcher and glared at the crudely-drawn picture on the page. An unexplainable growl began to stream from Spike’s chest.

“Yeah, that’s the arse, all right. What’s it do?” Spike turned back to Xander, who’s breathing had grown unsteady again. His pulse was also climbing, slowly but climbing none the less. Spike replaced the towel on the boy’s head.

“Well, exactly what the name suggests – it’s a sleep-invoking demon.” Giles’ whole face wrinkled up while he read from the page. If it were any other circumstance, Spike would have noted to the watcher how much he looked like a dried up old prune. “It appears that its tentacles each have small stingers on them, like a cross between a scorpion and a wasp. The stinger has sleep-invoking venom and when it stings its prey, the stinger dislocates itself like that of a wasp and stays in the victim. It uses them to attack its prey. Once stung, the victim falls into a state of deep sleep so that the demon can pull it back to its lair, presumably to feed upon them.”

“Well, now we know what it did, what do we do?”

“Er, well…” Spike turned back to watch Giles as he began to pace back and forth in the limited space available while reading to himself. If his face scrunched up any tighter the seam in the back of his scalp would split, Spike thought. This couldn’t be good. A few more minutes of pacing and scrunching and anticipation, Spike couldn’t help it.

“What is it, you git?”

“Hmm? Oh, it’s just that according to this, we must mix a solution – a sort of antidotal salve – and then spread it over the area in which he was stung.” Giles was still doing his impression of Oscar the Grouch and pacing, so there had to be more to it than that. Spike wondered what the catch was.

“S’that it? Or is there more?” It sounded pretty snarky, even to Spike. Oh well – they needed to do something soon, not beat around the bush.

“No, there’s more. To complete the solution, we need the original stinger. Which means we shall have to extract it from wherever it stung Xander. The place of which we are unaware.”

“Oh, that all? Well, it should be on top of his head, shouldn’t it? That’s where he was hit.”

“Well, I suppose that should make sense. But, there’s more, Spike.”

“Get on with it, then.” Now Spike was becoming intensely impatient.

“It seems that if a salve cannot be produced within two day’s time the fever will take over and completely destroy the victim’s sense of reality. They will be permanently stuck between their dreamscape and the real world. The venom in the stinger produces what is a sort of hallucinogenic dream-state, in which the person infected doesn’t so much sleep, as dream. The longer the fever is allowed to ravage the person, the deeper the dreams and nightmares, and also the rift between fantasy and reality, become. Even without the salve, the fever will eventually break, but it’s never happened in time to save the person’s mental state. Once awakened, if not cured, the person will forever be caught between their two ‘realities’. This explains why he believed Jesse was waiting for him earlier.” Giles finally stopped pacing, and as if on cue Xander started choking in his sleep.

Spike jerked his head back to see what was the matter, and Giles ran to the other side of the bed.

“No! Ms. Calendar!” Xander shrieked as he bolted upright in bed, arms stretched in front of him, eyes closed. Once again, it was as if someone flicked a switch because all at once sweat began to cascade down Xander’s face and his entire body was drained of color like a pitcher emptying itself. Not only did he appear moonlight-white, he also appeared to have become hazardously thin. His heart was beating faster than a locomotive. Spike wanted to cover his ears to get the sound of drums out. Not good, not good!

“Xander!” Giles shouted. “Xander, can you hear me? Xander, are you alright?”

“Giles? Giles is that you? Oh, Giles, I’m so sorry.” Xander brought his hands up to his face and started to sob. Spike didn’t know what to do and not for the first time in his unlife felt completely useless.

“Sorry? Why are you sorry? You have nothing to apologize for. You haven’t done anything wrong. It’s okay, Xander.” Once more, Giles’ face was contorted with grief. But was it grief over the boy or mourning over the teacher still?

“Yes I did, Giles. I could have helped her or saved her or something. That’s what she told me – that it was my fault. My fault that I let Angel kill her. My fault that I didn’t kill him when I had the chance. Just like Jesse. It’s my fault he died. My fault he got vamped. I am the one that killed him. I killed my – he was my, my…My fault, my fault, my fault!” Xander began screaming and Giles swooped in on him and pulled him into an embrace the likes of which Spike had never believed the watcher capable of. And suddenly Spike felt very uncomfortable and decided it was perfect timing to refresh the water in the bowl.

From the lavatory, Spike could hear Giles soothing Xander with words of support and security. Xander finally calmed down, and Spike could hear his heartbeat slow. When Spike returned, Xander was as before – on his back asleep, as if nothing had happened. He could tell that Giles was upset by what he had seen and heard.

“We need to do this now,” Giles said through clenched teeth and squinted eyes once Spike returned to the bed. He was also noticeably paler than when Spike had left the room.

“You sure you don’t need a minute, mate? You don’t look so well off, yourself.”

“No, the sooner this is finished the better it will be. Remember – we have until tomorrow night to apply the salve, or Xander will not be able to recover.”

“Right then…” Spike set the bowl of cold water on the table next to the fold-out, and got onto the bed. “How shall we do this? You take the left and I’ll take the right?”

Giles sighed and sat up on his knees.

“I guess that’ll be fine. Perhaps we should prop him up against the back, sitting up? Should make it easier, I presume.”

With the help of Giles, Spike managed to sit Xander up against the back of the couch.

They spent the next thirty minutes going back and forth through Xander’s scalp searching for a bump or splinter or something. First left to right and back to front, then back to front and right to left.

“Bugger. Not a damn thing” Spike said, the demon in him swimming curiously close to the surface. Spike wondered what was going on with himself.

“Surely, it must be here somewhere. Are you sure he was only hit on his head, Spike?” Giles took off his glasses and polished them for what had to be the tenth time in the last half hour.

“Oi, you bloody wanker! No, I am not sure! I wasn’t exactly zooming in for the play by bloody play, you git!” Spike had to fight the demon back. Really wouldn’t be a good time to go all ‘grrr” now would it?

“Well, we’re running out of time, Spike. We need to find this thing now.” Giles replaced his glasses and sat back on the bed and heaved a mournful sigh. “We need to help him…I can’t lose another,” he said, his voice barely audible to even Spike’s ears.

“Right!” Spike shot up like an inflatable punching clown, nearly giving Giles a heart attack.

“What is it, Spike?”

“It wasn’t just his head! I remember Xander grabbed his back somewhere, just as I started laying into the pissy-whatever.” Spike did suddenly remember that. But he only wished he could remember where. “So it’s somewhere on his backside, then.”

“Oh…well that’s – great.” Giles said and Spike could practically feel the warmth of Giles’ blush from where he was sitting on the other side of Xander. *blink blink* And then Spike realized why Giles was embarrassed…

“Right…means we’ll have to undress the boy then.” *Gulp* And why the gulp all of a sudden, Spike’s brain wanted to know.

“Uh, how shall we – I mean. Er?” Evidently the watcher was kind of squeamish about it. And Spike just couldn’t help himself.

“S’matter, mate? Not used to seeing boys’ bits? I should think that your time in the council and –“

“Not funny, Spike. And it’s not that – I’m thinking of Xander here. After he gets well, he’ll find out that I’ve seen him nude? As he would say – it’d give him the wiggings.”

“Wiggins.”

“What?”

“Wiggins. It’d give him the wiggins.” And why exactly did Spike know or care?

“Oh, well, whatever – just imagine how he’d react to that situation.” Giles was up and pacing again. Between Giles and himself, Spike was surprised there wasn’t a trench worn in the floor.

“What’re you getting at, Watcher?” Not that Spike hadn’t already figured it out. The peroxide hadn’t gotten to his brain yet.

“Well…perhaps – could you?” Giles stopped pacing, but refused to look Spike in the face. Spike could practically hear Giles’ brain screaming at him – ‘Do not look at face. Look anywhere but his face!’.

“You want me to get this boy naked and comb over him trying to find a tiny little stinger stuck who knows where on his backside?!” Spike couldn’t believe Giles had suggested something like that. He must be really uncomfortable with this, Spike thought.

“Um, well, I suppose so, yes.” That was all Giles had to say? In a hundred and twenty-odd years, Spike had never thought his brain would do flip flops like it was doing now. Just goes to show that the older you get, the more you can be thrown for a loop.

“Oi, watcher.” Spike thought it over a few seconds and decided he had no reason to say no. He did, for whatever damn reason, want Xander to be okay, and if it meant having to do that, then Spike was willing to do it.

“Alright, I’ll do it,” Spike said in his best ‘it’s a dirty job but someone’s gotta do it’ voice. “What’re you gonna do while I play doctor with the boy?”

“I – uh, I’ll run back to my flat and get the rest of the supplies we need for the salve.” Giles had finally come up with a good excuse, and just before the buzzer ran out on him! He quickly began gathering his jacket and the correct books and started to head for the door.

“Right, then. Why can’t you have Red do that?” Spike still couldn’t resist torturing the torturer. Even if he had agreed to do this. S’what he gets for chaining me to a bath, isn’t it?

“I already tried her. I rang her when I got back from retrieving these books. I guess she’s out with that Wicca group again. Besides, I think it’s best not to worry her – you know how she can get.”

And with that, Giles was out the door and gone, leaving Spike to his task alone.

“Tosser,” Spike muttered to no one in particular.

“Well, whelp, looks like I get to skin ya after all,” he said. And with a sigh, he set to it.

Next Part here.