![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Title: Learn to be Lonely chapter 2/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Rating: PG-13ish at the moment
Pairing: BtVS Spike/Xander
Author’s Note: Because I’m lame and can’t find a way to fit my stories into canon at all, this piece is sometime after Spike is chipped and while he’s enjoying his stay at the lovely Chateau D’Harris. Also, a huge spanking thanks tokitty_poker1 for volunteering to be my official L2BL beta. Also, previous parts are up at my website.
Disclaimer: These character’s aren’t mine, never were; I don’t get any profit for this hobby, so don’t sue – Thanks.
Warning: None for now, other than it’s a little slow on the ship front for now. But we are eventually headed for equal parts angst and schmoop, because really, can I even write anything else?
“…ander…Xander…” A woman’s voice called through the hazy blackness that swirled through his vision. “Wake up, Xander.”
“Huminumph,” Xander mumbled through a mouthful of pillow. There’s no way that it could be morning already. Lately, the nights weren’t nearly long enough. And now someone was trying to make this night even shorter.
“Hurry up, Harris. We’re losing darkness.” Spike, Xander mentally cringed. “Get your arse outta bed so we can get this done before I get dusty.”
“Knock it off, Spike.” Buffy, who had apparently found Spike. “Xander, are you awake?”
“Ungh…” Xander replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his eyes still closed. He opened them slowly, squinting at the sudden brightness of the once dull lamplight.
“Was that a yes?” Buffy asked with a little too much chipperness in her voice for Xander’s liking. “I think that was a yes. He’s sitting up, at least.”
“Who bloody cares?” Spike snarled. “Just get him up and into some clothes so we can go.”
Clothes? Xander thought.
“Huh?” He asked, scratching his chest and realizing he didn’t have a shirt on. For a moment, he almost reached for the pillow to cover up with. Whatever, he decided. S’not like she’s never seen a set of nipples before.
“We need you to come with us,” Buffy explained.
Xander glanced at the clock on the stereo and winced when he realized he’d only been asleep for a few hours. Looking up, he found Buffy staring at the ceiling. Following suit, he saw nothing to be stare-worthy other than the same water-spots on the drop panels that had always been there. Standing next to her, Spike was staring at him with a half-smirk. Xander started to panic.
“What is it, Buff?” he managed to choke through a sleep-clammy throat and dry lips. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “You hear something up there?”
“No, you git, she’s trying to be polite and not stare at your dangly bits,” Spike explained, rolling his eyes as he picked up a random pair of jeans off the floor and tossed them at him.
“Wha-oh, shit!” Xander looked down to find that, indeed, the boys were very much out for a stroll. He’d forgotten that he’d been Commando Xander today, thanks to the recent Washing Machine-go-boom incident. Standing as quickly and shyly as possible, he turned around and crammed his feet into the legs of the jeans and pulled them up, only to find he’d put them on backwards.
“Oh, Christ!” Spike muttered while Xander scrambled behind the privacy curtain sectioning off a corner of the basement, something Anya had insisted on when Spike was unceremoniously dumped on him.
“Is it safe?” Buffy asked, with a tinge of humor in her voice.
“Safe as it gets in this dump,” the vampire offered.
“Oh, good,” she said pointedly. “You realize, of course, the phrase ‘Xander-shaped friend’ will take on a whole new meaning now, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We must never speak of this again,” Xander replied as he came around the curtain with the jeans on correctly this time. Kicking through the laundry that was scattered on the floor, he found a shirt he’d only worn once since the last time it was washed. He bent over and pulled it over his head, trying in vain to smooth out the wrinkles on the front.
“Right, like that’s an option,” Spike chortled. “That’s prime material, whelp. Can’t not use that. As a matter of fact, I think I might use that next week when I’m tapped for dosh and need a pint or two.”
“Well, leave me out of it, at least,” warned Buffy. “As it is, it’ll take years of denial to erase this memory.”
“Uh, thanks, Buff,” Xander replied sarcastically. “As for you, blondie bear, you will most definitely not be allowed to continue unliving, should you feel the need to pull out the nudie Xan-man card.”
“Oh, I’m so scared of the big angry naked slayerette with a collection of limited edition Star Wars fag lighters.” Spike snorted. “I’m shakin in my boots, Harris.”
“And don’t you forget it, Mr. Not So Evil Anymore,” Xander threw back. And as an afterthought, “Star Trek.”
“Huh?” asked a confused Buffy.
“They’re commemorative Star Trek lighters, not Star Wars,” he explained.
“No, I got that part,” she said. “I was wondering why you have them.”
“Oh, that,” he replied, flashing back to when he and Jesse had swiped them from the local Texaco down the street. It had been a contest to see who could get the most without getting caught. Everyday for an entire summer, they’d each stolen one or two. By the end of August, they’d amassed a collection that would make any pyromaniac spontaneously orgasm. After Jesse…After he was gone, Xander threw most of them away, except for one lighter for each character.
“It’s, uh, just a thing,” he mumbled. Spike just grunted.
“Oookay,” Buffy singsonged. “And I’m the freak for being a super hero?”
“Yeah, that’s the reason,” Spike snarked.
“Shut up, Spike,” she replied on auto-pilot.
“Ouch, my unbeating heart, how it breaks.”
“Can we, maybe, not do this right now?” Buffy asked weakly. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“Then-“
“So why are you here, Buff? What’s the hubbub?” Xander asked. Buffy’s face dropped from slightly tired to total exhaustion. “What is it?”
“It’s Anya,” she murmured in a weak voice. She started to chew her bottom lip, making what she said next almost inaudible. But Xander could somehow make out what she was saying. “She’s dead.”
“Oh, is that all?” Xander responded nonchalantly.
*****
What the fuck!? Xander’s brain screamed as he bolted upright in bed, the dream still clear as glass in his mind. He knew it was a dream, because he was still in bed, with his boxers on, thank you very much. Sunlight was peeking around the edges of the window shade, casting a smokey glow through the shadowy basement.
“It’s morning,” he uttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes and the sweat from his brow. Looking down at himself, he noticed his chest was also coated in a thick sheen of sweat. The sheets and pillows were soaked, as well. For a split second, he felt like he was four again and shame made him blush. But he knew it was just the effects of the strange dream.
“Yeah, it’s morning,” a voice called from the chair beside the bed, making him jump enough to cause the bed to squeak. “And some of us are fucking knackered, so could you bloody well keep it down? You’ve been thrashing and yammering since sunrise.”
“Huh?” Xander asked, his mind still swimming in a receding fog. “Oh, right. Uh, sorry, Spike.”
Sorry, Spike!? Jesus Christ, that was some dream. Now I’m apologizing to Spike, for God’s sake.
For a moment, he just sat there, letting his eyes adjust to the murky blue and black bruise of darkness and light that filled the room. Glancing over at the clock, he found that it wasn’t only morning, it was quickly becoming the afternoon. He’d slept nearly twelve hours, yet he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.
“Weird,” he whispered to himself, swinging his legs off the bed and into the day ahead.
Author:
chocgood84Rating: PG-13ish at the moment
Pairing: BtVS Spike/Xander
Author’s Note: Because I’m lame and can’t find a way to fit my stories into canon at all, this piece is sometime after Spike is chipped and while he’s enjoying his stay at the lovely Chateau D’Harris. Also, a huge spanking thanks to
kitty_poker1 for volunteering to be my official L2BL beta. Also, previous parts are up at my website.Disclaimer: These character’s aren’t mine, never were; I don’t get any profit for this hobby, so don’t sue – Thanks.
Warning: None for now, other than it’s a little slow on the ship front for now. But we are eventually headed for equal parts angst and schmoop, because really, can I even write anything else?
“…ander…Xander…” A woman’s voice called through the hazy blackness that swirled through his vision. “Wake up, Xander.”
“Huminumph,” Xander mumbled through a mouthful of pillow. There’s no way that it could be morning already. Lately, the nights weren’t nearly long enough. And now someone was trying to make this night even shorter.
“Hurry up, Harris. We’re losing darkness.” Spike, Xander mentally cringed. “Get your arse outta bed so we can get this done before I get dusty.”
“Knock it off, Spike.” Buffy, who had apparently found Spike. “Xander, are you awake?”
“Ungh…” Xander replied, pushing himself up into a sitting position, his eyes still closed. He opened them slowly, squinting at the sudden brightness of the once dull lamplight.
“Was that a yes?” Buffy asked with a little too much chipperness in her voice for Xander’s liking. “I think that was a yes. He’s sitting up, at least.”
“Who bloody cares?” Spike snarled. “Just get him up and into some clothes so we can go.”
Clothes? Xander thought.
“Huh?” He asked, scratching his chest and realizing he didn’t have a shirt on. For a moment, he almost reached for the pillow to cover up with. Whatever, he decided. S’not like she’s never seen a set of nipples before.
“We need you to come with us,” Buffy explained.
Xander glanced at the clock on the stereo and winced when he realized he’d only been asleep for a few hours. Looking up, he found Buffy staring at the ceiling. Following suit, he saw nothing to be stare-worthy other than the same water-spots on the drop panels that had always been there. Standing next to her, Spike was staring at him with a half-smirk. Xander started to panic.
“What is it, Buff?” he managed to choke through a sleep-clammy throat and dry lips. He lowered his voice to just above a whisper. “You hear something up there?”
“No, you git, she’s trying to be polite and not stare at your dangly bits,” Spike explained, rolling his eyes as he picked up a random pair of jeans off the floor and tossed them at him.
“Wha-oh, shit!” Xander looked down to find that, indeed, the boys were very much out for a stroll. He’d forgotten that he’d been Commando Xander today, thanks to the recent Washing Machine-go-boom incident. Standing as quickly and shyly as possible, he turned around and crammed his feet into the legs of the jeans and pulled them up, only to find he’d put them on backwards.
“Oh, Christ!” Spike muttered while Xander scrambled behind the privacy curtain sectioning off a corner of the basement, something Anya had insisted on when Spike was unceremoniously dumped on him.
“Is it safe?” Buffy asked, with a tinge of humor in her voice.
“Safe as it gets in this dump,” the vampire offered.
“Oh, good,” she said pointedly. “You realize, of course, the phrase ‘Xander-shaped friend’ will take on a whole new meaning now, right?”
“Yeah, yeah, whatever. We must never speak of this again,” Xander replied as he came around the curtain with the jeans on correctly this time. Kicking through the laundry that was scattered on the floor, he found a shirt he’d only worn once since the last time it was washed. He bent over and pulled it over his head, trying in vain to smooth out the wrinkles on the front.
“Right, like that’s an option,” Spike chortled. “That’s prime material, whelp. Can’t not use that. As a matter of fact, I think I might use that next week when I’m tapped for dosh and need a pint or two.”
“Well, leave me out of it, at least,” warned Buffy. “As it is, it’ll take years of denial to erase this memory.”
“Uh, thanks, Buff,” Xander replied sarcastically. “As for you, blondie bear, you will most definitely not be allowed to continue unliving, should you feel the need to pull out the nudie Xan-man card.”
“Oh, I’m so scared of the big angry naked slayerette with a collection of limited edition Star Wars fag lighters.” Spike snorted. “I’m shakin in my boots, Harris.”
“And don’t you forget it, Mr. Not So Evil Anymore,” Xander threw back. And as an afterthought, “Star Trek.”
“Huh?” asked a confused Buffy.
“They’re commemorative Star Trek lighters, not Star Wars,” he explained.
“No, I got that part,” she said. “I was wondering why you have them.”
“Oh, that,” he replied, flashing back to when he and Jesse had swiped them from the local Texaco down the street. It had been a contest to see who could get the most without getting caught. Everyday for an entire summer, they’d each stolen one or two. By the end of August, they’d amassed a collection that would make any pyromaniac spontaneously orgasm. After Jesse…After he was gone, Xander threw most of them away, except for one lighter for each character.
“It’s, uh, just a thing,” he mumbled. Spike just grunted.
“Oookay,” Buffy singsonged. “And I’m the freak for being a super hero?”
“Yeah, that’s the reason,” Spike snarked.
“Shut up, Spike,” she replied on auto-pilot.
“Ouch, my unbeating heart, how it breaks.”
“Can we, maybe, not do this right now?” Buffy asked weakly. “That’s not why we’re here.”
“Then-“
“So why are you here, Buff? What’s the hubbub?” Xander asked. Buffy’s face dropped from slightly tired to total exhaustion. “What is it?”
“It’s Anya,” she murmured in a weak voice. She started to chew her bottom lip, making what she said next almost inaudible. But Xander could somehow make out what she was saying. “She’s dead.”
“Oh, is that all?” Xander responded nonchalantly.
*****
What the fuck!? Xander’s brain screamed as he bolted upright in bed, the dream still clear as glass in his mind. He knew it was a dream, because he was still in bed, with his boxers on, thank you very much. Sunlight was peeking around the edges of the window shade, casting a smokey glow through the shadowy basement.
“It’s morning,” he uttered, wiping the sleep from his eyes and the sweat from his brow. Looking down at himself, he noticed his chest was also coated in a thick sheen of sweat. The sheets and pillows were soaked, as well. For a split second, he felt like he was four again and shame made him blush. But he knew it was just the effects of the strange dream.
“Yeah, it’s morning,” a voice called from the chair beside the bed, making him jump enough to cause the bed to squeak. “And some of us are fucking knackered, so could you bloody well keep it down? You’ve been thrashing and yammering since sunrise.”
“Huh?” Xander asked, his mind still swimming in a receding fog. “Oh, right. Uh, sorry, Spike.”
Sorry, Spike!? Jesus Christ, that was some dream. Now I’m apologizing to Spike, for God’s sake.
For a moment, he just sat there, letting his eyes adjust to the murky blue and black bruise of darkness and light that filled the room. Glancing over at the clock, he found that it wasn’t only morning, it was quickly becoming the afternoon. He’d slept nearly twelve hours, yet he felt like he hadn’t slept at all.
“Weird,” he whispered to himself, swinging his legs off the bed and into the day ahead.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
From:
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Wonderful again, and I'm looking forward to more!
~Nebula
From:
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*g*
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I shall now make you wait until August for more! Because I am teh Ev0l one.
Actually, there'll be more on Friday:)
*snogs*
Thanks, baby!
From:
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From:
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Glad you like this, babe:) There'll be more probably the end of the week. *beems*
From:
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From:
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That was great! Now I gotta know what the significance is to Xander/Anya...
Well that's what it sounds like anyway. The subconscious talking to Xander through dreams.
From:
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Thanks, sweety!