Author: Dea Brynhild Ensomhet
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Timeline: Bs7. I'm not sure how close to canon I'll be sticking in the future... although there are a few canon things I'm changing i.e. Spike being able to touch the First, and the First taking Xander's shape (which I will explain in later chapters).
Rated: PG-13. Take the necessary precautions: practice responsible reading.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of the Buffy cast/crew/characters/plotlines/etc. I write the poems. Several bits of dialouge are taken from Bs7 episodes. The chocolate rum ball thing is a reference to Angelus, and a shout-out to Donna and Jess' "Days of Our Unlives". The poem 'Shadows' is kinda a shout-out to Rune's Spander fic, "Where You'd Been". 'Baka' is a kinda-harsh Japanese insult, meaning like 'idiot'.
"Is there anyone here who hasn't slept with each other?"
That's so not fair. Xander thought to himself. Most of us haven't intermingled. I never slept with Buffy or Wills, and Spike never slept with Willow...that I know of... And none of us have been kinky with Giles. Although Spike did spend a lot of time chained in Giles' bathtub, which could be considered kinky-fun bondage, but Giles would never... I mean... Tying Spike up to my chair could be considered bondage-fun, but I never got off on it... I'm not saying that he isn't attractive, 'cause he's got that whole predator-creature-of-the-night thing going for him while all I got is the dorky-good-guy-next-door look. And what does she mean by 'here'? Does she think Spike and I slept together? Xander took a chance and glanced over at Spike, who just happened to be looking at him at that exact same moment. They both pulled their gazes away immediately. Okay, that was weird.
And that would have been the end of it, except for what happened a few weeks later.
Xander sat down in front of the public library computer, and cracked his knuckles. He remembered something Willow had said back in high school, how she had been complaining that there were websites that hadn't updated in years, and he wondered if maybe the poetry that Willow had written was still online somewhere. Not that he had any doubts that she was over him, but it was a nice stroke to the ego that he'd been love-poetry inspiration.
After three tries he managed to find the Google search engine, and typed in "Xander Harris". A few hits appeared - a graduating-class roster for Sunnydale High, employee of the month at the pizza joint three years ago, stuff like that. He tried a few more searches - "X Harris", "Alexander Harris", "Xander H.", "Xan" - and then he saw a hit for "Unrequited Love Poem Archive". Xander clicked it, pulling up a page with a single poem in the center of it.
Pass through me like smoke Always watching, always waiting
I stay in the shadows, contemplating
What I could do to win your affection
What I could say to end this perplexion
I want to tell you, show you what I feel
Convince you, Xan, my love is real
But I'm so scared you'd turn away
and so I stay silent another day.
Xander stared a the poem for a while, not sure what to make of it. It didn't look like the kind of thing Willow would write, and the username for the artist was "searchforeffulgence" - not a nickname he thought Willow would choose for herself. Although, if it wasn't written by Wills, did that mean that he had another secret admirer out there somewhere? Xander almost laughed when he realized how worked up he was getting. There were probably millions of 'Xan's in the world; it was stupid to assume that the poem had been written to him. The poem had peaked his curiosity, though, and he decided to read some more. At the bottom of the page was a link for other poems the author had written, and Xander clicked on it.
The page reloaded, and Xander was surprised to see almost fifty poems posted by "searchforeffulgence". He began reading through them, the poems sounding strangely familiar even though he was sure he'd never read them before.
Banquet Once there was a feast laid before me,
Blood-red wine overflowing from goblets.
Ripe wicked plums,
Chocolate-covered rum balls,
Tart lemon drops.
Now I am barred from the table,
Goblets placed out of my grasp,
Plums dropped and rolling under the able,
Chocolate melted and ruined,
Lemon drops collecting dust.
Now I dine on water in lieu of wine,
Refuse in the absence of fruit,
Rodents instead of weets.
I choke on my demons,
Starving on the scant provisions.
My only nourishment your chocolate eyes,
your sugar-sweet smile.
Xander was unable to shake the weird deja-vu feeling, as if he knew the author, as if he'd heard the poems before or something. The index page also had a feature that showed when the poems were posted. The first one had been written three years ago, and the newest one had been uploaded last week, which ruled Willow out as the poet. Searchforeffulgence's bio page didn't have any information, except for the critical little nugget of info that they lived in Sunnydale, California. Xander frowned, mentally cataloging everyone he knew around town, wondering who could possibly have a crush on him.