Title: Tickle the Fancy
Rating: PG-13
Feedback: Yes, please!!! nodbarn@yahoo.com Though no flames or attacks, only loving critiquing and criticism.
Type: Now, this is slash, but before you say "ewww, gross," read this real quick (besides, how many of us didn't love Tara/Willow…that's some slash there): It's not graphic. =) I think it's a really good story (though towards the end I think my writing was just a little sloppy), and I think you should at least take the time to read these few pages of delicious plot of beautiful characters and let me know what you think about it!
Timeline: This story takes place between the end of Entropy (6.18) with Spike and Anya's dirty deed, and the next time we see Xander in Seeing Red (6.19)
Spoilers: Entropy (6.18)
Notes: Yes, it is a bit angst-ridden (sorry Sheepy =( but I still think it's really good! =P) Also, this is especially for Sheepy =) Just 'cause she's so great!
Disclaimer: You know, if for one day I could own these characters I'd have a grand ol' time! But I don't. And I won't. And I respect that they belong to Joss Whedon and the beautiful people surrounding him.
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"I didn't want to know this. I didn't want to know any of this," stated Xander as he dropped the stake to the sidewalk. He gave a final look at Buffy and turned to walk away. He stepped onto the black pavement and set off into the shadows.
The night made itself evident, engulfing Xander in darkness as he took to the alleys to keep from seeing anyone; he didn't feel too social.
When he returned home he opened the fridge to see his assortment of half-empty, and some full, bottles of beer he had collected since his wedding day. Grasping the head of a full bottle, he didn't see the half-empty ones too appealing – not on a night like this, after everything that had happened.
He pulled off his tan, leather coat and tossed it onto the kitchen table. Resuming his position on the floor, he rested his back to the wall and let out a heavy breath of air. As was habit, he lifted his pinky in the air as he put the bottle to his lips.
A few beers late there was a knock on the door. Xander groaned in his half-sleep state. The knocking continued until Xander finally shouted.
"Go the hell away," he yelled. Silence only lasted a few minutes as the knocking started again. Xander's anger soon became apathetic as he finally shouted at whoever was behind the door to come in.
"Thanks, mate," said Spike as he opened the door, bringing in with him a brown paper bag with a bottle inside.
"One can only guess what's in there," said Xander, still indifferent. His eyes stumbled until they finally rested on Spike's pale, gaunt face. Rage resurfaced inside Xander as the memories of the night flooded back to him. Images of finding the lawn-gnome-camera, scanning for more, seeing Anya and Spike in the magic box, making his way to the Magic Box wielding an axe and stake opened alcohol-healed wounds.
"Son of a bitch," Xander grumbled, trying wobbly to get to his feet. He was able to do it before he collapsed forward. Spike slipped to his knees and caught Xander before his head was able to hit the table, cradling his cranium from the near-injury.
"Let go of me," whispered Xander, anger blazing in his eyes. "I said let go of me!"
"Have it your way, bit," said Spike as he let Xander drop the rest of the way to the carpeted floor, making sure to keep him from hitting the table. He grabbed his whiskey he had dropped, looking for a spill, then gazing in at the almost empty bottle. He was surprised he had drank so much-so fast, after not finding a drop on the floor.
Xander rocked himself over and sat up, swiveling from side to side. He threw his hand on to the top of the table and used it to help himself stand up. When he was finally able to stand without wavering, he glared at Spike, staring deep into his eyes.
Spike gazed back with eyes glazed over. Then with a burst of energy he had a fit of giggles that brought him to his knees. His chuckles shown through his face and in his eyes as he dropped to his back on the floor. Xander knelt down beside him and continued to glare.
"What's your bloody problem?" asked Spike, still grinning.
"Bastard!" yelled Xander in an enraged voice.
"Woah now! Xander! I didn't mean it," said Spike, ruffling Xander's hair. Xander jumped back. "I didn't mean it," he said again, calmer, this time touching Xander's cheek with his hand.
Xander was unsure how to react. Spike had caused him so much pain. He was in love with Anya so deeply, he adored everything about her. Yet, here was the monster that had caused Xander so much pain that very night. The monster only restricted from causing physical pain, the monster that didn't have to be an Angel. That monster was there to apologize, to beg forgiveness.
"Spike," started Xander, but was shut by one of Spike's fingers pressing against Xander's lips. Xander's eyes opened wide, unsure of what was to come. He watched as Spike leaned in close. Spike removed his finger, but continued to press Xander's lips with his own.
Xander's mouth made a weird sound as he gasped for breath from the surprise attack on his lips. Spike pulled back to allow Xander to get a few good breaths in before he spoke.
"What the hell was that?" asked Xander, stunned.
"Xander. I didn't mean it. That thing with Anya, I didn't mean it. Everything was so messed up. And I know you never realized that I had feelings for you, but Xander – I do. And it ached to see you with her, I wanted to know what it was; what was there," said Spike, pain showing through his eyes.
"Spike. I-I can't. Everything I've said over the years; it's all too much. You're a demon. And I love Anya," replied Xander.
"Xander," was all Spike had left to say.
"I don't know where any of this came from Spike. To be honest, I couldn't care less, either. Do you understand what you did?" said Xander.
Spike answered with another dab on Xander's lips. Xander tried to push him off, or at least he wanted to, but didn't make the slightest hint of a struggle. He fell backwards onto his bottom, hearing a thump.
Years of tormenting himself for loving a demon, and being interested in more than one of the many demons the Slayer and her friends had met over the years, were let loose. The emotions changed and switches clicked inside Xander. He admit to himself that the rage and hate was love bundled and combined with way too many other emotions.
Spike and Xander continued to lock lips as Spike began unbuttoning Xander's shirt, only imagining what was to come. Xander grasped Spike's pants and began to unzip them.
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"I love you, Xander."
"I-I think I love you, too."
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"Xander, do you trust me."
"Yes. I do."
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"Tell me you love me."
"I love you, Spike."
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The pair redressed and Xander gazed at Spike, full of affection. He leaned in to give Spike a passionate kiss before he left to his crypt, but Spike jerked away.
"Spike?" asked Xander. Spike's mouth stretched into a grin as he buttoned his pants and pulled his shirt on.
"What?" questioned Spike. Xander's eyes took a quick look over Spike's fully clothed body, and finally rested on his face, looking him over. He tried to tell what Spike was thinking, but couldn't see it in his expressions – instead he only saw a grin; the mark of the beast.
"See Harris, the thing about you is, was, and always will be, that you grasp everything that says they love you, too dearly. Take Anya for instance. She loved you, passionately – or so she said. But, if she loved you as she said she did, would we have had it off?" retorted Spike.
Xander wanted to retaliate; to lash out and make Spike feel his pain. He wanted vengeance, to make Spike feel what he was feeling – to have his heart ripped out. He wanted to say something - something horrible and despicable, but no words harsh enough entered his mind; so he sat, in silence.
"Don't you get it Xander? This was a game. It was to 'tickle the fancy' as they say. It was amusement. But don't worry, pet, it was fun. You provided the pleasure and you even had fun yourself, you can't deny it," said Spike.
Xander remained on the bed as Spike walked out of the bedroom door. He was still on the bed when he heard the door to the apartment slam shut and he finally let out a sob – a quick huff of breath as a few tears slid down his cheeks.