Title : Obsessive Tendencies
Author: Dea Brynhild Ensomhet Spikess
Timeline: Bs4
Rating: PG-13.
Pairing: Spike/Xander.
Disclaimer: Don't own any of the Buffy or Angel cast/crew/characters/plotlines/etc. Please don't sue.
Summary: Once upon a time there was Xander, who secretly liked
Spike. Nothing terribly squicky, but there are restraints used and
creepyness abounds.
Author's notes: Unbeated, so this will probably be full of mistakes. And I suck at tenses, so point out errors and I'll fix them.
Xander sips on a cold soda, savoring the flavor as he celebrates. He's nowhere near close to where he wants to be, but today he's one step farther than he was yesterday. Oh, but last night... Xander smiles in remembrance. Last night Spike came over, and they watched a movie together. Granted, they were sitting on opposite sides of the couch, and the only real conversation was spent sniping at each other or griping about the acting and plotline of the flick, but Xander still thinks the evening went better than he'd hoped for.
The ashtray might've been a little too much, judging by the look Spike had given him when he saw it. "What?" Xander had replied, beaming innocence. "Friends don't let friends burn the furniture." And the fact that he got to spend the evening surrounded by the scent of smoke and Spike has nothing to do with the small black plastic bowl on his coffee table.
Xander tipped back his head, swallowing the dredges of the soda, before snapping the silver tab off, pocketing it, and then crushing the can in his fist. He stood and grabbed the now full ash-tray before heading into the kitchen. He dropped the can in the waste basket, then went to the sink. He carefully extracted each cigarette filter from the small mound of ashes, and placed them in a row on the counter, before rinsing the ashes down the drain and using a paper towel to wipe out the ashtray for future use.
He then got a small plastic baggie from the cabinet and labeled it with yesterday's date in black permanent marker. He took a moment to caress the seven filters, letting his fingers drift over the stubbed and twisted surfaces, before carefully placing them inside the baggie and sealing it up. Taking out another baggie, he also labeled it with yesterday's date, and set it on the counter. Turning to the waste basket, he opened it and began to dig. He pushed aside several soda cans, all crushed with their tabs missing, until he found the one he was looking for. Uncrushed, with the tab still on. This was the can that Spike drank from last night.
Xander held the can, basking for a moment at the nearness he felt to Spike, holding an object that had touched his lips. He slipped the can inside the second baggie, and sealed it, before taking both items to his bedroom. Inside his closet was a large box that was slowly being filled with Spike - several baggies of his cigarette butts, a Sex Pistols CD that he'd stolen from the crypt, the ropes he'd used to tie up Spike that first night, flakes of black nail polish that Spike had picked off and left scattered on the floor, and several other things. Sometimes when he was really lonely, Xander would take one of the filters out and place it between his lips, and then he could almost taste Spike for the next several hours.
He reverently laid the new bag of filters and the soda can into the box, and replaced the lid. He re-covered the box with stray clothes before closing the closet door, hoping that no one would ever find his box of treasures. He never told anyone about his collection, knowing that the girls would think it was wrong, that he was obsessed and disturbed. But they didn't understand. He wasn't obsessed, he was in love, and he wanted to be as close to Spike as he could be, at least until Spike was ready to go to the next level...