|
Written for ![[info]](http://www.insanejournal.com/img/userinfo.gif){kind=small}
tamingthemuse prompt 'Haste Makes Speed'.
Title: Under the Influence part 2 - Possibilites
Fandom: BtVS, Season 4, Spike and Xander in the basement.
Rating: Teen+
Warnings: Drug use, profanity, self-pitying wallowing and Star Trek repeats.
Disclaimer: All Joss's, with a nod to Gene Roddenberry.
Wordcount: ~4100
Summary: Spike decides it's time for another night smoking weed with his pet project Xander.
Part 1 can be found here.
Spike wandered into the basement, stepping lightly around the discarded clothing littering the floor. He assessed the pattern as simple slob rather than the ripped-off-to-get-to-the-good-bit type discarded. The lack of female clothing aided the assessment, though he wasn't discounting any possibilities. Possibilities that were, after all, a contributing factor to his presence. Ultimately, however, it was the soundtrack to the scene that was really the decider.
"Seriously, pet. Nothing is ever bad enough to subject yourself to this rubbish."
"Country music is the music of pain," said a mound of blankets.
"Yeah, useful for torture," Spike clicked off the CD player, stood at the foot of the foldout bed, and kicked the frame.
"Leave me alone, evil fiend," said the muffled Xander, "You've got your own place, no need to be bothering us pathetic mortal basement dwellers any more. Move along, nothing to see here," a hand appeared from under the pillow and waved him away half-heartedly, then flopped down on the covers.
"My, my, aren't we feeling sorry for ourselves," Spike scuffed his foot lazily on the concrete floor.
"You haven't gone away. Why haven't you gone away? I have no job, ergo I have no money, ergo I have nothing to mooch. I have nothing you could possibly want. So long, farewell, auf wiedersehen, goodbye," the hand waved feebly without even making it off the bed.
Spike sat down on the coffee table and lit a cigarette. He absently flicked his lighter open and closed and watched the flame - ca-click, snap, ca-click, snap, on, off, on, off.
The corner of the pillow lifted and an eye peered at him from the cushioned darkness, "You're still here."
Spike rolled his eyes with all the contempt he could put into the simple gesture, "Right observant you are."
"Can't a man be left in peace to wallow in his own basement-based misery? Don't I have that right?" whined the pillow.
Spike figured these questions were either rhetorical or aimed at some higher power he wasn't on speaking terms with. He wasn't on speaking terms with many; they were amazingly easy to piss off.
"'S cold."
The pillow shifted and the eye eyed him again, "What?"
"My new place. It's a crypt and it's cold. Haven't had a chance to get any heaters in yet."
"You have no body temperature, why do you care if it's cold? And you're British, I'm thinking the Sunnydale climate must be positively balmy compared to what you're used to. So again I ask why?"
Spike didn't feel like getting into the finer points of his living arrangements, so he changed the subject, "Why are you lying around here moping?"
"Had a row with Anya and now she's avoiding me," mumbled the pillow.
"Pfft" said Spike.
The pillow shifted, "What?"
Spike tried to enunciate 'pfft' more clearly, but gave up and instead wagged his cigarette authoritatively at the pillow-creased Xander that emerged, "Birds, mate, are not worth moping over."
Xander snorted, "Says Love's bitch. Excuse me I have a bleak pit of despair to get back to."
Spike snatched the pillow before Xander could disappear under it again, there was a brief tug-of-war accompanied by a volley of scowls and warning looks. Xander relinquished the pillow and flopped back down, throwing an arm over his eyes. Spike threw the pillow out of reach.
"Your little demon bint is on the rag that's all. Give her a few days and it'll all be fine and dandy again."
"How do you know that? Oh god, no, I don't want to know, don't tell me, I can imagine!" Xander squeezed his eyes shut and held up a hand to stave off any explanation Spike might be about to offer on that score, "Can't she just tell me these things? I've had girlfriends before. My best friends are girls! Not like I haven't been sent on the mercy mission to buy tampax and painkillers before, all my embarrassment on such matters was used up years ago."
Xander was upright now, and conversing. A small triumph. Unfortunately, Spike noted, he appeared to be fully dressed under the bedclothes.
"Asking the wrong, bloke," Spike shrugged, "women are all insane."
"Yes, well, considering your experience I won't take that as gospel. I'd say you've had a statistically skewed sample," Xander sat up against the back of the sofa part of the foldout and extracted his legs from the tangled bedding.
Spike glared at him, "Leave Dru out of it, ok? Not like I don't have other experience."
"Harmony? Not making a convincing case there, buddy."
"Yeah, right, Dru and Harmony are the only two lovers I've ever had. Has the watcher taught you nothing about demons?" Spike sighed; he ground out his cigarette on the floor, and fished out the tin of cannabis, tobacco and papers.
Xander's attention went straight to the familiar little box of delights and stayed there.
"Oh, I see, I'm welcome now am I? Bring Rupert's missing stash into the equation and I'm the world's best guest."
Xander snorted, "Don't push it, blondie, as guests go I'd say it is one of your only redeeming features."
"Wanker," said Spike, though he was pleased to see Xander was smiling in a joking kind of way. He longed to know what, in the boy's opinion, his other redeeming features might be. Instead, he took off his coat and without further ado, cracked open the tin, took out the ready rolled joint, and lit up.
"Not going to need to convince you again of the merits of a little illegal drug use?"
"Nope. Pass it over."
"Regular little pothead. What would the other white hats say?"
Xander inhaled deeply and shook his head, "Hardly regular. And as I understand it, Giles would say 'give me back my doobage'."
Spike inclined his head in agreement on that point.
"We still got a deal with the no telling tales?" Xander said.
"Did we have one before?"
Xander paled slightly, hesitating to take another puff of the spliff.
"Don't worry, scooby snack. We both know who'd come off worse in that scenario."
Xander relaxed and passed the joint, "Ok then, but 'scoobie snack'? Seriously?"
Spike laughed, "Maybe not."
They smoked companionably, and Spike fought the urge to smooth down the rumpled mess that was Xander's hair after his sojourn under the pillow of tragedy.
"Got fired from your latest dead end job then?"
"Gee thanks for the critique on my career path there, Mr Never-done-an-honest-day's-work-in-my-un
Spike smirked, not like that was a bad thing, "Take it, it didn't end well."
"Let's just say that the dim-sum delivery business and being a slayerette, unmixy things. Unmixy in the worst possible way. Dim-sum, very popular in certain demon communities as it turns out, and Buffy's secret identity? Not so much."
"Ever thought of trying something that didn't involve food or food delivery?"
"Like what? Selling body parts? Far too many takers and not enough Xander for a long career there. Ooo, how about medical research subject. How do you recommend that?"
Spike's eyes flashed gold and his teeth itched, he growled low in his chest.
"No, didn't think so," Xander passed him the joint in a conciliatory gesture.
"You could always resurrect your career at the Sunnydale equivalent of the Fabulous "Ladies' Night" Club," Spike said slyly with a curl of his tongue.
"Not - and I mean this very, very sincerely - for all the dope in… wherever they grow dope."
"But I heard you were a big hit. Wouldn't mind a demonstration…"
"Nope, not going to bite. That story remains untold. To my dying day. Not a word. Nada. We clear?"
"Fine, fine," Spike took the last hit and stubbed out the joint, "Your turn to roll-up."
He slid the tin across the bedclothes to Xander, stood up and wandered over to the shelves in the corner; he picked up a carefully wrapped comic book.
"Put that down, it's worth more than I am," Xander didn't look up from his appointed task.
Spike frowned, but complied, he spared a thought to pinching it and selling it to a demon he knew who might be interested, but it wouldn't help his ultimate goal with his boy here. He noticed the request for a stripping demo didn't so much as raise an eyebrow, but he wondered whether the weed would be enough to weaken the boy's resolve against the whole 'evil fiend' thing. It hadn't been last time, but it had made for an interesting list of revelations about the way his mind was ticking, especially regarding Xander's apparent attraction to neatly packaged blonds as well as blondes.
"Damn it! Am I doing this wrong?" Xander turned to him pleadingly.
Spike leaned over the back of the fold-out and peered over Xander's shoulder. He took in the carefully rolled paper tube and its contents that had fallen out onto the tin lid; he sniggered. Xander gave him a dirty look, which, since their faces were side by side, was an extremely close up dirty look. It didn't have the same impact when the giver was cross-eyed. Spike also noted the quick flicker of those crossed-eyes down to his mouth, another moment for The List.
"You didn't roll it tight enough. Look, I'll walk you through it," he sat down on the bed again, scooching up to sit next to the boy.
He let Xander drive, and talked him through the task, until they had a perfectly prepared new joint. He let his hand brush Xander's as he took the finished product from him and lit up.
"Very good, pet. Just need to take your time is all."
Xander nodded, "Ok. Take my time. Haste makes speed."
"That doesn't make sense."
"What doesn't?"
"You mean 'more haste, less speed', or 'haste makes waste', or something," Spike was getting a bit lost in the idiom quagmire, he took a sharp left and ended up in a different conversation, "I could get you some speed if you want."
"What?"
"Amphetamines? Whizz? Dexies? I really had a thing for girls in dungarees for about 3 weeks after that song," Spike was gazing into the distance with a glazed happiness.
"What!?" Xander was looking thoroughly lost.
"Nothing," Spike shook himself, and wondered how he might get the boy to try something other than cannabis. He leaned back and stared thoughtfully at the blank TV screen.
"Stop that."
"Stop what? Not doing anything!"
"You're plotting, mister. I can hear the cogs whirring. There are nefarious plotty thoughts going through that bleach addled brain."
"Am not," Spike did his best to look offended rather than guilty, he wasn't sure how that combination actually worked on his face, he rarely if ever felt guilty about anything.
"I know plotting when I see it. And that? That was plotting," his eyes widened, he knelt up on the sofa-bed putting some distance between them and jabbed a finger accusingly at Spike, "You're plotting to make me your drug addled slave. Cannabis as the gateway drug, and bug-guy here we come."
"Am not. Don't need a drug addled slave, they're more trouble than they're worth, always moaning for the next fix, give 'em the wrong thing and you've wasted a good slave."
Xander boggled at him, Spike cringed. He might have said a little too much there.
"You have experience of, let me get this clear, 'wasting a good slave'!"
"Might've done some experimenting," Spike mumbled, "There may have been some casualties. But, hey, most of them died happier than they would've otherwise."
"Gross," stated Xander emphatically with both index fingers raised, "And experimenting? That's as bad as those creepy Initiative lab coats."
"Hey!" Spike sat up in indignation, "There is no comparison. A vampire might keep the odd human as a pet, or a slave, torture the odd victim for fun, but essentially you're food to us. Understand?" his throat tightened at the thought of proper food.
Xander looked at him warily.
Spike scrambled off the bed, "What's your favourite food? Doughnuts? Chocolate? Well imagine that isn't a treat, it's your staple diet, you need it to live. Now imagine you're forced to live on carrots. How do you think you'd feel? I'd call what those fuckers did to me inhumane, but I can't imagine any creature other than humans coming up with such a twisted, sick, fucking idea. I'm so damn hungry all the time; nothing replaces proper food for a vampire, human blood from the source. It isn't that I can't hurt or kill, that isn't even absolutely necessary truth be told, it's that I can't even eat. It's fucking cruel that's what it is. Cruel and unusual," Spike stalked about the room as he delivered his tirade, and Xander watched him wide-eyed.
"I'm sorry."
"No you're bloody well not. You thought it was a great laugh, not a one of you has wasted an opportunity to get a dig in about it. Impotent, neutered, fangless. Threatening to stake me all the time because suddenly I'm an easy target. Actively encouraging a suicide!"
Xander flinched at the reminder and looked at his hands, then he scowled, "We helped you didn't we? Took you in, hid you, fed you. We didn't have to do anything; you spent all your time plotting to kill us."
"Yeah? Conveniently forgetting the time I teamed up with the slayer to stop Angelus? You chained me in a bathtub. Tied me to a chair and half-starved me, made me even more helpless. I'm Aurelian, a master vampire, do you have any comprehension what that means? Do you know how much it cost me while I was out of commission? How much it's still costing me to only be able to target other demons? I'm becoming a pariah in the community I'm meant to have dominion over. My life is a sodding mess!" Spike whirled about in a conflicted mix of rage and despair. He shifted to his vampire face and punched the wall hard enough to split his knuckles, it was that or cry and no fucking way was he doing that. He stared vacantly at the dent and the settling cloud of plaster dust; he jumped when hands rested on his shoulders.
Xander wordlessly pulled him away from the wall and sat him on the bed, gave him the joint to hold and fetched a damp cloth to wipe his bloodied hand with. Spike snatched the cloth and toked deeply on the roll-up before handing it back.
"I thought this was supposed to take the edge off?" Xander said, taking the joint.
Spike made a wry face and inspected his knuckles, "Sort of. Just lowers inhibitions mostly," he gave his hand a lick, and ignored Xander's grimace.
"Hmm. Well if you get any more suicidal urges, try not to demolish too much furniture this time."
Spike huffed a laugh in spite of himself, then he realised something, "I thought that table was broken!"
"It was. 120 lbs of scrawny vampire landing on it will do that."
"140 lbs of pure lean muscle thank you. So you got a new one? 'Cause really, if you did, and that's your own personal choice of décor…" he knew was forcing the humour a little, but he needed to change to mood quite desperately.
"That's not a new one. I fixed the old one."
"Huh, nifty!" Spike was impressed, and he didn't miss the way the boy straightened his shoulders just a little bit at the praise, "Um, sorry about the wall."
"No problem. I can fix that too."
"I don't doubt it, pet," Spike watched Xander flush with pride then quickly become awkward.
"Hey, pet. I'm starving. Wanna get a pizza or something? No anchovies, my treat."
"Er, did I just hear right? Is the biggest freeloader in Sunnydale offering to pay for something? I must be hallucinating. Oh no! It's a spell. Are you feeling, ok, Spike? Pissed off any warlocks lately?"
"You have 5 seconds before the offer is rescinded, doughnut boy."
"Large spicy meat feast, extra cheese, easy on the garlic? I have the number right here."
Xander scurried off to get the phone, and Spike lay back sucking his knuckles. He flicked on the TV and channel hopped, skipping past and finally back to an old Star Trek episode, slowly relaxing with deep lungfuls of smoke into a puddle-o-vampire.
The order placed, Xander came back and stretched out on the other side of the sofa-bed. Spike noted the way Xander kept stealing glances at his injured hand, was that concern he detected? Interesting.
"So, Harris, I can't tempt you with anything a little more adventurous than marijuana."
"I'll stick to the small time, legal in some places, everyone knows the smell, wacky baccy thanks."
"Suit yourself, just-" Spike stopped.
"What?" Xander stared at him.
"Nothing," he pursed his lips.
"Go on, something's eating you."
"If you change your mind, don't go searching for a supply on your own. I'll sort you out, ok."
Xander stared at him, "I'm not incapable, Spike. I can handle myself pretty well in fact."
"That's not what I mean. Think of me as quality control. Dealers want customers, they're not automatically going to knife you on sight, but not every dealer is going to sell you the good stuff, or the safe stuff. Old Ripper obviously has a decent supplier, but I'm guessing you won't be asking him for the number."
"No," Xander agreed.
"So, I'll get what you want. At least I can sniff out the quality from the dross."
"Why?"
And wasn't that the $64000 question, Spike fended it off with an eye roll "Just promise me, Harris."
"Fine, I'll call you if I want to get high. Jeez, I wasn't planning on a career as a stoner anyway. This is more of an opportunity presenting itself and me taking it. I've little enough hard earned cash without smoking it away."
"Rather smoke away the watcher's hard earned cash any day, huh?"
"Don't make me feel guilty, evil fiend, it's a real buzz-kill."
"You should really look up 'evil fiend' in the dictionary one of these days."
"Why, is there a picture of you there?"
"You'd better believe it," Spike grinned.
Xander grinned back.
There was a knock at the basement door, they turned and said "Pizza!" in unison, then both got up to answer it.
Xander took the box and Spike fetched a wallet out of his coat. The delivery boy stared at him.
"What?"
"Nothing, sir."
Spike opened the sugar pink wallet with the unicorn charm hanging from the clasp and took out some cash, "Good lad, you can keep the change, and since I'm feeling generous your liver too."
"Thank you, sir," the boy looked from Spike to Xander then turned tail and fled.
Xander sat down and shook his head, "I'm just taking a wild stab in the dark here, but I'm guessing that's not your wallet."
"Why do you say that, pet?"
"The glitter finish was a bit of a give away."
"Maybe I'm just very secure in my self-image."
"Says the guy who freaked out about wearing one of my Hawaiian shirts."
"Well, everyone has there limits. I noticed the look pizza-boy gave you too. Not worried the delivery fraternity will think you're gay?"
"Not at all, and it's a union, not a fraternity. Can we eat now, please?"
They were quiet for a while munching on the pizza and watching the Star Trek: the Next Generation re-run that followed the repeat from the original series.
"It's the same bloody story!" Spike observed after a while, "There just no subtlety to the scheduling at night."
"Sked-uling," Xander corrected.
"Shed-uling, bloody Americans," grumbled Spike.
"Tomay-to, tomah-to," Xander shrugged, peeling an errant slice of the same off his segment of pizza and throwing it back into the box in disgust.
"There's never enough sex in Star Trek," Spike was growing frustrated by the way the evening wasn't developing.
"Sure there is. It's all implied," Xander waved his pizza at the TV, "You have to read the subtext, all the little looks and hints."
"So enlighten me, oh great reader of subtext. Who's shagging who on the Enterprise?"
"Enterprise or Enterprise-D?"
"Enterprise."
"Well, Kirk and Spock have the whole short-hand of ironic eyebrow raises going on. Spock sits back and lets Kirk chase all the hot alien women because he knows the captain will be back in his bunk after the adventure is over…What?" Xander stopped short at the incredulous look Spike was giving him.
"Nothing. Not what I was expecting from you, that's all."
Xander smiled, "I'm all about the unexpected, me. It's my middle name."
"Lavelle is your middle name."
"Why does it not surprise me that the wallet thief knows that?"
"Can't imagine," Spike smirked and stretched back with his hands behind his head, it was a pose designed to show himself off to his best advantage.
Xander ignored him and snagged the last slice of pizza.
Spike sat up, "Hey, that's mine you sneaky bugger!"
"Nuh-uh. You snooze, you lose," Xander leaned back in the corner of the sofa, holding the pizza slice out over the arm, out of Spike's reach.
"Give it here."
"Make me."
Spike made the wild dive, recognising only as he did so the irony of the situation. Xander had used the same move on him as he'd tried last time, only while he had ended up with a lapful of cold noodles, Xander had ended up with a lapful of vampire. Unexpected indeed.
Suddenly, frozen nose to nose and flattened full length against each other, who got the last slice of pizza didn't seem all that important. Spike could feel the boy's heartbeat thudding against his own chest: it was an oddly familiar feeling. He stared into wide open pupils and wished he could tell how much was due to the dim lights, the drugs and how much to arousal. He swallowed convulsively and altered his grip on the boy's wrist where he'd made a grab for the pizza. He pressed his fingers to the pulse there. The pizza hit the floor with a soft splat. Spike shifted his hips a little, pressing down; it drew a warm huff of breath from the boy. They were staring at each other's mouths-
"Spike?"
Spike blinked.
"Spike, the phone is ringing."
"So?"
"This time of night, that's usually a sign of an apocalypse."
"Bloody, buggering hell," Spike rolled away and thumped a fist down on the bed.
Xander scrambled for the telephone, "Hello?"
"Tell them to sod off," Spike suggested.
Xander scowled at him and turned away, "Ahn! No. Hush. It's ok, honey."
Spike adjusted his jeans and groaned; the boy had to be dating a ruddy vengeance demon, and a needy, demanding one that put out on a regular basis. Not only was it difficult to pry someone away from that, but it could also be bad for the health. Spike turned off the TV and packed away the remainder of the stash, listening with half an ear to the conversation. It seemed the girl was sorry about the row and desperate for a kiss and make up session. Hell, he wasn't sure he'd turn that sweet little bit of tail down himself in the same situation, she'd been everywhere, seen anything and wasn't afraid to ask for what she wanted.
By the time Xander hung up the phone and turned back Spike was stood up, wearing his coat and lighting a cigarette, "Your bird wants some attention, eh?"
"Yeah," Xander stuck his hands in his pockets and hunched his shoulders.
"Best make myself scarce then."
Xander stared at the floor, a flush of red creeping up his neck.
"Crack a window, light a candle or something, pet. She'll clock the smell of hash straight away."
"Yeah, good idea, ok," Xander said in a small voice.
Spike rolled his eyes, then walked up to the boy so quickly he flinched. Spike took a drag on the cigarette, then grabbed Xander's face with both hands and kissed him soundly on the mouth.
Xander gave a muffled squeak, then a high pitched moan.
Spike pulled away and blew out the smoke he'd been holding, "See you around, pet. Remember the offer if you want any more drugs."
Xander nodded dumbly. Spike was halfway out of the door when he heard, "Thanks… Evil fiend."
Spike grinned to himself as he walked off into the night. If a bloke was willing to bide his time: the possibilities? They were endless.
continued in an interlude for Bring Back the Porn 2008