estepheia | More Pandora, still a WIP

Living with Proteus
PAIRING: Spike/Xander
RATING: NC-17
SPOILERS: vague S7, set post-'Him'
SERIES: set in the Pandoraverse, directly after Alatheia's Gift, but it can also be read as a stand-alone. All you have to know is that it's set post-shag.
Many thanks to

lordshiva and

ladycat777. Both helped me while I wrestled with the boys...
Parts 1 & 2

They end up whiling the afternoon away in amiable boredom. Of course Xander wouldn’t be Xander and Spike wouldn’t be Spike if they didn’t find a way to rub each other the wrong way. It’s like giving in to an itch and scratching the scab off a slow-healing wound.

It starts off harmlessly enough: Xander goes on about his favorite TV-shows, Spike slags off every single one of them - while displaying a frightening familiarity with them.

“Dru used to think them Klingons were demons. Wouldn’t listen when I told her that it was just humans with funny make-up. Dru liked her version better,” Spike says, an uncertain smile on his face. If Xander didn’t know better he’d think this is a clumsy attempt at geek-bonding.

Whatever. Xander’s pretty sure he doesn’t want to be regaled with tales of Spike’s evil past. The unbidden image of Spike and Dru sitting amiably in front of a blood-splattered TV-screen, surrounded by cooling bodies, sullies precious childhood memories of Xander’s favorite shows. Or maybe it’s just the mention of Spike’s ex-love of over a hundred years and the fondness in Spike’s voice when he says her name.

“I think I’ll go without the nostalgia, thank you very much.”

Spike falls silent, and that’s not what Xander intended.

“What, no snarky comeback? Cat got your spine?” It’s supposed to come out jokingly. Xander has no idea where the sudden venom comes from.

Spike looks up, stung. A host of unguarded emotions flit over his features, faster than Xander can name them, and not all of them pleasant. His face sets into a grim mask and he pulls back, looking like a poisonous snake poised to strike. “You want spine? When did that happen? Must’ve missed the memo,” he scoffs, erecting a fence of barbed wire sarcasm.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“Come on, admit it. You like me best when I’m down.” Spike’s lips curl into a suggestive sneer. “On my knees.”

Xander’s jaw drops. His cheeks burn, because some of that is true, but not the way Spike is making it sound and oh god, is that what Spike thinks and how did everything get so complicated?

“I like you best when you’re not acting like a complete asshole!” he shouts.

“Oh, and when is that? When I’ve got your cock up my ass? Kind of ironic, don’tcha think?” There’s a hairline fracture in Spike’s voice and a muscle in his jaw tenses.

“Is that what you think, Spike?”

“Well I don’t know, do I?” Spike bursts out, dropping all pretense. “I mean, what else is there?”

Xander is stunned by the display of sheer desperation.

“Remember what you said, when this… started?” Spike starts to pace as pent-up words break out of their cage. “The ‘five reasons why you don’t hate me anymore’ countdown? Lovely speech that was, pet. But believe me, in here…” Spike raps his temple harshly with his palm “I’m still the same thing you hated before I went and got that soul. Still me. Don’t feel different. Well yeah, there’s the guilt an’ the self-loathing, plenty of that, but the soul? Doesn’t make me a better person. Doesn’t make me want hugs and puppies for everyone. It just screws with me for all the things I’ve done. So, it’s either you feelin’ sorry for me cause that’s how you work or--”

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute. Lemme get this straight. You think I’m shagging you cause I pity you?” Xander finally manages to get a word in.

Spike stops and turns to face him, breathes deeply as if bracing himself for the coup-de-grace, then looks up to meet Xander’s gaze. When he finally answers, Spike’s voice is calm but slightly strained, as if he’s trying very hard to be reasonable about this.

“I think you’re shagging me cause I’m a good lay. Beats spanking the monkey. Bit of a power trip too, doin’ a vamp. Which, I s’pose, is as good a reason as any. And this—” he gestures vaguely at the apartment, “this—actually, I don’t know what this is. You tell me.” He falls silent, looking spent, all his fire turned to ashes

For a moment Xander is speechless, and that’s saying something. “Okay Spike, for the record: I don’t pity you. If you feel rotten about 100 years of carnage ‘R Us, that’s as it should be.”

Spike takes this without flinching, just stands there, like he’s made of stone, with barely enough life in him to keep his dead body animated. Or maybe like he exists in a different, much slower time continuum, standing still while the normal bustle of life rushes past him.

It’s not the first time they seem to be out of synch. If this were Star Trek we’d be talking temporal anomaly. There’d be level three diagnostics, a re-calibration of couplings or manifolds and plenty of manual compensating, and at the end of the episode they’d be synchronized and primed for a wisecrack remark or two.

Unfortunately, it’s not that easy.

Xander stares at Spike, wondering why these phases of stillness are making him sick in his stomach. The more he thinks about this, the more he prefers his vampire twitchy and restless and annoying. And how is he supposed to fix this? “Come on, Spike, grab your blanket,” Xander says on the spur of a moment. “We’re going out.”

TBC

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herself_nyc

Oooh, big drama and angst. Me likey.

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More Pandora, still a WIP

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