A/N: Thanks for the reviews! You say you want more, and you want it slashy. But don't expect anything too graphic too soon. I like tension, that's where all the excitement is. So expect it to move slowly… Torturously so.
RATING: Still PG-13, for now…
DISCLAIMER: I still don't own any of these characters. I just fantasize about them.
Choices
(Chapter 3)
Xander awoke to the sound of a phone ringing. He was still on the couch, where he'd fallen asleep somewhere in the middle of Army of Darkness. And apparently he had had fallen against Spike. He was leaning against him; his head nestled in his shoulder. At least, he was until he jumped away.
Spike jumped up too, but in his case it was to attack the phone.
"Do you have any idea what time it is!"
"It's nearly noon." It was Buffy.
"I don't exactly run on a daytime schedule here." Spike growled, "What do you want?"
"Well, we need your help. Xander's missing."
"He's been in my crypt for two days, Slayer."
Click. Silence.
Spike hung the phone up and slowly turned to face the boy who was apparently still attempting to wake up.
"She's on her way over." He smirked, "Apparently the idea that you would willingly spend time with me is so appalling that she can't discuss it over the phone."
"Well, I didn't exactly come here of my own free will, did I?" Xander replied, "If I remember correctly I was unconscious." He was being playful, not expecting the anger and pain that flared in Spike's eyes. Must've hit a sore spot.
"If you want to go, whelp, go right ahead. But I'd suggest you take the sewers." Knew he hated me.
Xander frowned. That was only the second time he's insulted me since it happened. He started to approach the other vampire, but thought better of it. Instead he sat back down on the couch and stared at the door to the crypt, apprehensive about the inevitable confrontation.
Spike knew what to expect, and he expected to have to get the door repaired again.
*****
The door fell, as usual, under the force of a powerful kick. Buffy strode purposefully into the room, only to pause, puzzled, when she saw Xander sitting on the couch looking at her as if she were the enemy. She was, after all, here to rescue him.
Then she saw the changes. Slowly, as if ticking off characteristics in her head, she listed them, unwilling to believe what she saw, what she knew from simple slayer instinct. He's not breathing. He's too pale. Too…everything.
As if in slow motion, she turned around to face the other, the one she wanted desperately to be able to hate.
"What have you done?!!"
Spike was leaning against the wall, smoking. His eyes were fastened securely to the floor. He didn't move. He didn't say anything. There was nothing that he could say.
Surprising them both, Xander pulled her back from her approach. He knew that this time, Spike wouldn't attempt to defend himself. So it was up to him.
"He saved my life." It was the first acknowledgement that he had shown, the first sign that he realized the choice the vampire had made. He held his friend, possibly his former friend, by both shoulders and looked into her eyes. "And right now, he's the only thing keeping me from giving in to this demon that's keeping me alive."
Buffy stepped back, somewhat frightened. This was a version of Xander that she had only seen a couple of times before. He was strong, confident. And she had no doubt that he was capable of murder. Or worse.
"You will tell me what happened." She said, pretending that she wasn't affected by this change. "And you will tell me now."
*****
"That went well." Spike spoke for the first time about an hour after Buffy left. The boy had surprised him. The conversation he had listened to had given him a great deal to think about. Apparently, he wasn't angry about being turned. Spike felt as if a tremendous weight had been lifted from his shoulders. Unfortunately, the boy was obviously having difficulties controlling himself.
"I didn't try to bite her, if that's what you mean." Xander was pacing, obviously restless. It was still an hour before sundown.
Spike smiled. So he was worried about that, too.
"I knew you wouldn't, pet."
Xander looked at him strangely, "Why do you keep calling me that?"
"Would you rather I keep calling you what I did before?" he was staring into his wardrobe, "Somehow, it seems more appropriate now."
He looked from his clothes to Xander and back. There's no way he'll fit into any of this.
"You couldn't try using my name for once?"
"Why does this bother you so much?" he waved his hand in dismissal, "No matter. Relax a bit. We'll be going out soon enough."
"Why?"
"You need some new clothes."
Xander started to object, but then looked down at himself. He had to admit that he generally looked better when he had allowed the girls to dress him. Perhaps Spike would have the same effect.
"You won't make me wear all black, will you?"
"Yes. And you have to bleach your hair too." Spike laughed, "There's only room for one of me, pet, don't worry."
*****
Spike moved through the racks of clothing, pulling things down and placing them into Xander's arms. The fabrics were such that Xander would have never considered wearing before. He wouldn't have been able to afford them, for one thing.
Spike was staring at a pair of dark brown, antiqued leather jeans. He put out one long finger to stroke the leather before taking them down and putting them on top of the rest of the clothes. Xander's eyes were barely visible over the top of the pile he was holding. He pushed the boy toward the dressing rooms.
"Now you get to play model for me." He said. A saleswoman overheard and gave the couple a knowing look. Luckily, Xander didn't see it.
Xander dropped the clothes in a pile once he reached the dressing room. Most of the shirts were silk, in an array of colours. Deep red, burgundy, royal blue, forest green. He smiled. That blue would look good on Spike. There were also plenty of t-shirts, but in a size smaller than he would normally have worn them. They would cling.
There were some items that he was more dubious about. Particularly the one black shirt that Spike had picked out: a velvet polo. There is no way I'm wearing velvet. Nonetheless, he pulled it over his head and pulled on a pair of jeans. These weren't the baggy cut that he normally wore; they fit close, hugging his form. He had once heard the girls say something about how a good pair of jeans could work wonders for the male body. Looking down at himself, he wondered if this was what they had meant. He certainly seemed more prominent if nothing else. He glanced toward the mirror before realizing that he would see nothing, and stepped out. He would have to depend upon another's input.
Spike whistled. A change of clothes and the boy was downright gorgeous. Slowly, he let his eyes wander, pretending to be inspecting the fit that he already knew to be perfect. The shirt looked soft, touchable. And the jeans, well, they drew the eyes to a very particular spot. He smiled.
Spike's expression was enough to convince Xander that perhaps velvet was not such a bad thing after all.
He modeled every article of clothing, actually quite enjoying himself. Especially when the saleswoman came over and started complimenting him. It was a different experience than what he was used to. Spike discarded very few of the items he had picked out. They ended up buying almost everything. It was when he was carrying the pile to the cash register that he began to wonder something about the little shopping spree.
"Um, Spike, how exactly are you going to pay for all of this?"
"Here's a secret, pet, and you'd better not tell anyone." Spike winked conspiratorially, "I'm rather wealthy. Two centuries means a lot of time to make money, you know."
Xander was shocked, after all, Spike was always asking for money, and often bragged about his talent for theft. "Exactly how wealthy?" he asked.
"Oh, hmm, coupla billion, I s'pose."