Pairing: Spike and Xander
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No money made, no harm intended.
Angelus had offered him a gift.
But it wasn’t Angelus. And it wasn’t a real offer. But it was a very pretty gift, and brave too. Not many would have the knackers to mouth off while being held under the arm of a Master vampire who was offering him up to another. He’d have to remember this one.
But first he had old scores to settle. This pitiful creature that had stolen his Sire, his Yoda, needed teaching a lesson. And then there was the Slayer to deal with. But after that, well, he might fancy a nibble… or something.
“Want me to tell you a bedtime story, Pet, about that night when the Poof wanted to share you with me?”
Xander squirmed under the covers and tried not to listen to his hog-tied houseguest. That voice was so hard to ignore though, and the way he said that, like he meant that Angel had wanted to…
“Knew it was a trick, didn’t I? But I was really tempted to come back later and take what had been offered. Just wanted to take care of business first, damn it. Then I would have found you, tasted you, maybe even…”
“I’ll walk him home Slayer, see he doesn’t get eaten by anything unsavoury.”
And despite Xander’s protests, he had been packed off home with an undead escort. One who had been looking at him for weeks now like he wanted to be the one doing the eating.
He so did not want be thinking about what Spike kept whispering when the others couldn’t hear; things about tasting, and nibbling, and ‘such a pretty pet’. Not while he was less than an arms reach away, and… why was he so damn close anyway?
Oh! Spike kissing… mouths… tongues... Hands!
“C’mon Pet. Think of it as a new beginning. New orientation. New lover. New lifestyle. New look, even, cos there’s no way I’m going out with you dressed in any of those nauseating shirts you love so much.”
And so here he was, in skintight jeans and a black, mesh shirt over an emerald green wifebeater, with gel in his hair and eyeliner and his nails painted to match his outfit. Here he was, on the dance floor of the Bronze, dancing with his undead lover while they waited for their friends to arrive. He was coming out in style.
They’d talked it over so many times and it always came back to ‘not yet, but soon’.
Now suddenly it was time, their choice had been taken away. The new Slayer had gotten herself into a mess by not waiting for her Watcher to research the latest batch of ambitious demons and Xander had paid the price.
Even consorts weren’t invulnerable to a helm axe.
And so Spike waited, watched, and finally relaxed his vigil when the body before him began to stir.
“’M here, Pet. Got you something to eat too. Then we’ll go and thank Red.”
After the Funeral
In accordance with Willow’s final wishes, the funeral was held just after dusk. She’d told both Spike and Xander that it wasn’t just for them. In her sixty years in magical retail she’d made more than a few nocturnal friends and wanted everyone to have their chance to say goodbye.
This marked the final closing of the chapter of their lives that had been spent upon the Hellmouth. Willow had been the last, the only, reason they had stayed so long. She’d run the Magic Box and helped with Slayer after Slayer and... so had they.
Now the world beckoned…