Disclaimer: I don't own Buffy, or any of its character's, and I don't claim to, so don't sue me!
Pairing: S/X
Plot: Only a small ficlet, to finish off where the last one ended. Spike's backed Xander into the corner – how will the Psychic!Boy react? Will he try his hand at bluffing again…or will he come clean? And just what would that mean for the other Scoobies?
Mini ficlet in my mini series of ficlets, based around Psychic!Xander. Therefore I've named it ficlet three point two (3.2)!
Again, please let me know what you think, and enjoy!
Also just thought I'd set the timing – although I'm not sure on the sequence of events in the programme, so this is hodgepodge of them… Spike's been chipped, tried to live on his own, and has done the bit with Giles.2) Xander has his carpenter job, isn't with Anya, never was with Anya, and moved out of his Basement without ever having roomed with Spike.
3) Joyce is dead; Buffy, Willow and Tara live at the Summers' house and take care of Dawn – nothing from Glory yet, nor do they have the money problems they did in the series.
4) Angel, Drusilla and Oz left the same way they did in the series.
Umm…if you spot any other inconsistencies let me know and I'll add them to this explanation.
Flask and a Half
Ignoring the brief flash of hurt in favour of sending a death glare in Spike's direction, Xander considered pretending he had no idea what Spike was talking about. One look at the expectant expressions on his friend's faces soon had him dismissing that idea though.
In Xander Harris' head it was one thing to lie by omission, but to actively lie, and to friends? That was a big no-no. When previously confronted about any unusual behaviour on his own part, he had always been able to divert the questions with some vague explanation – not a lie exactly, but nothing that could lead them to the truth – but this time they'd managed to get a direct question in first.
"…Xander?"
Willow's brown eyes were filled with concern for him, but for once the sight didn't fill him with warmth. Even if his willow tree would be willing to let it go, seeing how reluctant he was to discuss it, there was no way any of the other's would do the same. For God's sake, stop dragging it out and get it over with!
Xander narrowed his eyes slightly in annoyance, but followed the voice's advice for once. "I have a…condition, of a kind."
"Umm…" Blank faces waited expectantly, even Giles not wavering in his interest. "I guess you could say I can see the future, maybe?"
Tapping his fingers impatiently on the counter-top, Spike watched his boy fumbling to answer the question, the surge of sympathy not entirely unexpected.
"Aah, you can see the future! Well, that's good to know, explanation delivered, now lets get back to discussing who would want to kill little ol' me!"
Okay, maybe clapping his hands together at the end had been pushing the false enthusiasm a bit, Spike acknowledged, but they didn't need to look at him like he was a very rare species of alien!
As the are-you-crazy-? look slowly faded from Xander's face, to be replaced by a small smile of gratitude, Spike valiantly fought down a blush, but had to turn and pretend to fiddle with the cash register – one hand coming up to play with his hair in an attempt to hide his face from the others.
Glad though he was for the crappy help, even if it was from the one who caused all the trouble in the first place, even Xander couldn't keep from frowning at the blonde, who'd suddenly developed the habit of twirling his hair round his fingers and a variation of Tourette's syndrome, if his odd mutterings were anything to go by, "…'m not a soddin' girl… Don' wear skirts…Ah! My hair!…"
"Yes, thank you, Spike, that was very…uh, interesting. Now, Xander, you were saying?"
Leave it to the proper British guy to know how to react to that little show. And was it just him or was Spike turning pink?
"Right! Me. Condition. Right…" Clearing his throat nervously, Xander dragged his attention away from the pink-tinged vampire with difficulty (Cute) and tried to focus on what the Scoobies were asking of him.
"I can see glimpses of the future. I can't really control it, and I don't like it, so I try to block it out. I've been having a bit of trouble blocking it out recently though, and today I was in the right place at the right time to act on what I saw… So I did."
Shrugging, Xander saw Giles' cogs kicking in, processing what he'd heard, drawing comparisons to other knowledge, and trying to figure out what it all meant. This was why Xander'd never tried that hard at school – just watching the guy tired him out!
"Hmm… a type of precognition undoubtedly, but what kind? – Xander, your eyes change when you are seeing the future?" Giles waited for the nod before continuing to question him. "In what way do they change?"
"I've never been in a position to see how they change, but from what I've been told, Spike's description is pretty accurate; pupils contract, iris' expand."
The scholarly glint in Giles' eyes told him he wouldn't be going anywhere anytime soon, so Xander pulled out a chair and sat down, only then realising he was still clutching the donut in his hands. One look at the mess of chocolate and pastry and he hastily set it back in the box.
"Are you the only one, do you know?"
"No, it's hereditary – both of my parents, and all of the relatives I've met also suffer from it."
"How much of the future do you 'see', and what exactly do you mean by 'see'? Can you describe the experience?"
"It varies. Sometimes it's just an instinct about something, other times it's a full colour visual, with sounds, smells and touch."
"How long have you known about this ability?"
"I've been afflicted with it since I was a kid, but it's gotten stronger as I've gotten older."
"Do you know where the ability comes from? Do you think it could be an effect of living on the Hellmouth? Are there any other effects you've noticed –?"
"OI!"
Halting mid-question, Giles turned a surprised look at the ruffled-looking vampire.
"Yes, Spike?"
"I know you Watcher-types are all the same, but you'd think after the things you lot have been through together that you'd have a bit more tact with what is obviously a delicate subject for the Whelp! Have you given any thought to the fact that he may not want to be interrogated about something which he obviously doesn't like?"
Blonde hair standing up from his fiddling with it earlier, and angry spots of colour on his cheeks, Spike looked more alive than the others could remember him ever looking before.
"It's obvious from the way he talks about it that he hates his ability – he 'suffers' from it, it's an 'affliction'…are you even listening to his answers?"
In full flow, Spike pushed away from the counter and stalked over to where Xander was seated, head lowered as he pushed a crumb about on the tabletop.
"And you're asking the wrong questions, Watcher. For example, if you have no control over your abilities, then how exactly do you block it out?"
Sinking into a crouch, Spike gently lifted his boy's head up, and quietly asked his final question. "And just what were you doing in that demon bar, drowning yourself in whiskey, in the first place?"
A distant look entered Xander's eyes, clouding them even more than the sheen of tears did.
"Alcohol – the only medium even remotely successful at blocking our abilities."
Blinking back to himself, Xander looked into the sky blue eyes looking at him so intently.
"Lately, even that hasn't been working."
Silence pervaded the magic shop, but the occupants were so busy digesting the tidbit of information they'd been unexpectedly granted that they paid no attention to the musty smell created by all the unusual products, or the faint gurgling emanating from the Phylorn heart (a heart which never stopped beating, despite being poked full of holes in a ceremony believed to gift the Phylorn, whose heart it was, with eternal life…the fact that the creature in question never again woke up didn't seem to bother the race, all that mattered was that the body never aged or decayed…odd beasts…).
What did finally wrest the Scooby gang's attention away from their own member, was the cheerful jingle-jangle of the bell above the Magic Box door. A far rarer thing than a Phylorn's heart…unless you count the number of times a non-paying customer has also entered the shop.
Lifting his gaze from the boy he often viewed with a fondness normally reserved for a nephew, or other close relative, and a good deal of annoyance the rest of the time, Rupert Giles hastened to the counter – by-passing the still-crouching vampire, as he aimed to reach the customer's side before the contents of the shop put her off spending her money.
The oft-clueless, blond Slayer was gawking at the poor boy in true gormless fashion; mouth slack, revealing a number of pearly whites, eyes widened to comic proportions, unblinking as the poor girl struggled to understand what she'd heard – not yet realising what it meant, but somehow intuiting that whatever it was was a bad thing.
Red hair brushed against pale shoulders, as the magic-smelling one slowly shook her head in denial. It was only as the boy who had caused all this slowly reached into his jean pocket to pull out a rectangular silver device, that the girl let out a small cry of dismay and water leaked from her eyes.
Yet none of that interested him, oh, no, for a Cupid Fairy the most interesting thing in this world, and all the other worlds, was the purple-blue haze currently swirling about the boy and the vampire. An odd couple, but not as odd as some. Take the old woman who had fallen in love with her hat, for example – now is that not the oddest couple you've ever heard of? Especially when you add in the fact that the hat reciprocated the old woman's feelings!
Confused by the tangent his thoughts were taking, the Cupid Fairy furrowed its blonde brows cutely. Hats have feelings?
A shake of the head, blonde curls bobbing, and the Fairy got back to business, focusing in on the aura of emotions hovering around the two who were in an almost-clinch at the round table in the magic shop.
Now, as everyone who is anyone knows, a Cupid Fairy is not like the traditional image of Cupid the God, or even like most common ideas of Fairies. Granted, they are small, often extremely good-looking, have a habit of wearing what can only be described as a nappy, and carry about vicious-looking bows and arrows – but they don't make people fall in love!
Instead, they are drawn to people who have the potential to fall in love – who may already even be halfway in love with each other and not yet realise it…and Cupid Fairy's make them tell the truth to each other, with a small, sharp, prick of their arrows.
Placing one careful knee down on the top of the bookcase, the Cupid Fairy (who really preferred to be called 'Hilary') rested his left arm and bow on the other leg, then slotted in an arrow and drew it slowly back with his right hand. Aiming…aiming…GO!
The small, green-plumed arrow shot across the open space between him and his target, so small that only a teeny tiny 'mip' announced its presence, until it sank home into the perfect round buttock of the dead one.
Spotting the small frown which appeared on the vampire's face, at what must have been a most unusual sensation, the Cupid Fairy hastily slotted in its second arrow and took aim.
…Perhaps too hastily, it acknowledged to itself, watching as the brown-haired, notably adonis-like, human, hit itself in the face.
This action dragged on the small arrow before it had its chance to disappear, turning what should have been a small spot of blood into a centimetre long shallow graze. Far more obvious though.
"Xan', pet! What the 'ell?"
An irrational feeling of impending doom suddenly struck Spike, and he paid heed to his finely-honed instincts – jumping up from his crouch and hauling the Whelp up with him.
"Right, that's enough for today – it's high time you got to change out of your work clothes, I didn't get a chance to cook you any dinner today, so we'll have to order some takeout in or something instead."
Ignoring the numerous stares he was suddenly pinned with, Spike headed for the door, pale hand resolutely gripping Xander's wrist.
However, unbeknownst to Spike, instead of hearing what he thought he'd said, the others in the shop, including Xander, had heard;
"Right, that's enough for today – it's high time I got you home and naked, I didn't get a chance to see you all hot and sweaty today, so I'll have to settle for giving you a nice'n'soapy bath instead."
Cackling to itself, the Cupid Fairy headed off to raid the magic shop's collection of flower seeds, its gossamer wings flapping as it left the Scooby gang to their musty smells and unusual sounds. Of which, the jingle of the shop bell, as the sole paying customer ran away, was beginning to become an unfortunately regular one.
