Title: Bargaining for Doomsday
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Summary: Willow is determined to resoul Xander, and Buffy is just as determined to help...
Notes: A 4-drabble 'chapter' in the life of baby!vamp!Xander.
Everyone Has A Price
"He said what?!"
Spike made a final grab at his patience, and missed.
"Listen, you bog-trotting bastard! Yes, your pathetic soul had a thing for the Slayer. I know that put you through some awful crap. But you moved on, got yourself an unlife, such as it was; my Xander never had that bloody chance! He was at her beck and call for too many years, always treated like the fifth wheel, and now he wants the chance to take her down and I think he's earned it. So, what'll it take to get you to agree that she's his?"
A Heavy Cost
"He said what?!"
"Just be thankful I'm so good at bargaining, luv. His opening offer was six bloody months!"
Xander blinked and tried to imagine being Spikeless for that long. His stomach dropped away. He felt hollow.
"Yeah. Still... Six weeks? And I'm not allowed to see you unless he says? He really hates me."
"Don't be daft. He wants to play pretend for a while; make like he's the Angelus he was before the soul. For that he needs sweet William and Drusilla by his side, so he can be the great all-knowing Daddy. Point is, the Slayer's yours."
"She said what?"
Willow winced at Giles' tone and nearly dropped the phone from where it was pinned between her ear and shoulder.
"One of Willy's contacts says he's seen them down in Mexico, and she didn't want to take a chance on losing them again. She caught the first plane out there to make sure it's really them, but she promised not to face them down alone."
"Of course she did. And you believed her?"
"I'm packing spell components as we speak, Giles. The next flight's leaving LAX at nine."
"I reserved two tickets."
"I'm on my way."
"He said what?"
The sullen, scruffy boy scowled and clutched the money tighter.
"He say I to tell you that Slayer blood is sweeter than he thought. Then he say I have to give you this."
He handed over a crumpled sheet of grubby rough-edged paper, flinching at the brush of pale fingers against his own, then turned and ran for home and safe and mama, wishing he had never followed the ones with strange faces.
So, Willow, do you still want to soul me after this? Can you imagine the grief and guilt I'd feel?
Leave us alone.