Under the Mountain update!

[tabaqui]

And maybe some Angel-talk? I'm not going to go through all the eps, but the last one we watched was 'Slouching Toward Bethlehem'.


Everyone is still acting like complete fools. Still hating on Wes, still not bothering to *ask him* what happened, still irritating the bejesus out of me. Then Feral!Connor! How cool is that? I'm in love. Can he stay all feral and twitchy, please, and naive and...sweet and mean?

Then - running to Wes for help and treating him like scum *at the same time*!! And how much do i love Wes starting his own business and taking Angel's clients and generally getting on with his life, scruffy and bitter and having sex with Lilah!

All good. Noticed a disturbing trend - Gunn seems to be able to think the absolute worst of anyone in about one minute. And man - can't believe Fred being all door-mat-y and every time she would say - i really want to talk to Wes and Gunn would say no - she'd just fold! Lame.

Cordy going up, Angel going down - ha! Holtz was a mean old bastard. Poor Connor. But ooh, i love his mean streak and his deceit. He's *good*.

Justine deserved to be locked in a cage in Wes' apartment - wheeeee!! And Wes, ever loyal - searching for Angel, searching for Cordy. He roxors. The rest? Suck in varying degrees.

Now Cordy is back, she's hanging with Connor, and what's next, what's next? *bounce*



And now, we have more 'Under the Mountain. As always, many thanks to reremouse for her invaluable help. Previous parts are here.






It wasn't a month and a half before Xander saw Spike again. This time it was about five days. Xander was feeling good - pleasantly achy from a couple of rounds in the ring at his gym - freshly showered and hungry and he stepped outside and started walking down the street to the bus stop. Ride over to Boren, have some breakfast - 13 Coins served it all day - and then go home and sleep. No time to think about vampires with souls and very pretty mouths and fingers that touched just so.

Xander shook his head - dug his stocking cap out of his pocket and pulled it on, rubbing his hands together. It was getting chilly at night and there were clouds in the west, bringing a dampness to the air that made Xander shiver and zip his coat up tight. He resettled the patch and turned the corner and nearly ran full-tilt into -

"Spike! What in hell are you doing here?"

"Just - passing through, Harris. Can't a fellow just walk the streets?" Spike looked everywhere but at Xander, fiddling with the cigarette in his fingers and Xander stared at him, his brain finally registering something.

"You're wearing - that's that coat. That coat you had in Sunnydale." Xander frowned and Spike flicked his cigarette butt away and frowned back.

"Yeah. S'my coat - had it for years. So?"

"So, you left it at Buffy's house. The night you left."

"I didn't leave that night and I went back for it. Wasn't gonna leave my coat behind. It has a bit of sentimental value, this coat." Spike's fingers smoothed the worn lapels and Xander stepped around him and strode on down the sidewalk, noticing when Spike fell into step beside him but not looking around.

"I know where that coat came from - Buffy told me once. It's just -"

"It's mine, is all you need to know, Harris." Xander shook his head and they walked on a few more feet and then Spike sighed heavily - did a half-turn and put his arm out, making Xander come to a stop. "Look. Not trying to fight with you, all right? Just wanted to - to say thanks."

Xander blinked at him, baffled. "Thanks? For what? I didn't do anything for you."

"Course you did. Came upstairs, didn't you? Knocked that Star for a loop - pissed her off so bad she stole my car and left town."

"Stole your car?" Xander felt a lurch down in his stomach but Spike was grinning so it couldn't be too bad.


"Just a leased one. Doesn't matter - stole the name I leased it with, didn't I?" Spike turned around and started walking again and after a minute Xander stumbled back into motion and followed him. "So I thought I'd take you for a steak or something. Whatever you like, since you shared your dinner with me and all."

"You want to...well, I didn't actually share...you stole -? Angel said you have a soul now!"

"Oh, bloody hell!" Spike stopped dead, spinning around and getting right up in Xander's face and Xander took a hasty step back. "Why've you been talkin' to that wanker?"

"Listen Spike, you were acting weird. And you didn't try to kill me. And nobody ever knew what happened with you and - and I saw one of Angel's cards on your floor, so -"

"So you called him. Christ." Spike lit a cigarette - smoked furiously for a moment, glaring at Xander who started to scowl back. "Right. Fine. Let's go."

"Go where?"

"Someplace we can sit and I can tell you the real bloody story, not whatever nonsense Angelus fed you." Spike seemed determined - pissed off and totally serious and Xander stood there and contemplated his inner cop. Inner cop said he was probably safe but sit with his back to the wall and know where all the exits were.

"Okay. We'll go."

"Brilliant," Spike muttered - turned around and started walking back the way they had come.

"Where are we going? The bus stop -"

"I don't ride sodding buses, Harris. Got my bike right around the corner, here. " Spike grinned when he glanced over and saw Xander's expression. "You trust me, don't you Harris?"

Xander sighed heavily and pushed his hands down deep into his pockets. "Oh, yeah. I trust you, all right."



By the time they got to whatever place Spike had chosen - he had his eye closed for most of the trip - Xander was feeling faintly sea-sick. He wobbled gratefully off the big, black bike and leaned against the nearest wall, taking deep breaths and trying to rub some feeling back into his hands.

"Gonna live?" Spike asked, and Xander opened his eye - noticed with a guilty sort of flush that the front of Spike's shirt - some sort of button-up - was wrinkled and possibly sweaty from Xander's desperately grasping hands.

"Uh. Yes. I think. Sorry about your shirt. I don't do well on things that move so - fast."

"Only way to ride," Spike said - grinned and grabbed Xander's arm and hauled him down the sidewalk. Wherever they were was unfamiliar - somewhere near the Sound and the docks - and Xander stared around, trying to orient himself.

"I've never been down here - there's a restaurant down here?"

"And bar. Damn good drinks and the food's all right, too." Spike ducked aside into a narrow alley between two massive warehouses. Ahead, Xander could see a dull red glow coming from - down?

"Downstairs? It's underground? Oh god - you're taking me to some demon bar or something, aren't you!"

"Got a problem with that?" Spike stood with one foot on the top stair, cigarette between his lips and Zippo halfway there, eyebrow cocked up and a look of amusement on his face.

Xander sighed. "No. After all this time I really don't, but - I'd better not get sniffed or licked or spindled or anything else!"

"Don't worry, Harris, I'll protect you. Make sure your virgin purity remains intact." Spike was smirking as he lit his smoke - turned and clomped down the stairs and Xander pulled his cap off and shoved it into a pocket - glared at the pale, spikey hair that was disappearing behind a heavy steel door streaked with rust.

"Great. My virtue is in the fucking hands of the most conniving, sexiest vampire I know." Xander muttered.

"I heard that," Spike yelled, and Xander - grinned.

*Fuck it. Live and learn and have fun while you do it.*



The interior was dark - not suprisingly - and lit with electric candles on the walls with fake wax dripping down. Red and white checkered table-clothes and little lamps with red shades on the tables - prints of old movies on the walls. It was actually pretty quiet and sorta -

"It's kinda cheesy," Xander said, struggling out of his coat and hanging on the back of his chair. He unzipped his hoodie but left it on - it was a little cool underground like that. Spike did the same with his coat, folding the leather over carefully and then sitting down, pale-blue chambray shirt and those damn black jeans. There was a hole in the shirt, up near the collar and Xander caught himself staring at the pale oval of collarbone showing underneath.

"It's quiet and I like the stuffed mushrooms. Don't look a gift dinner in the mouth, Harris," Spike said, dragging the ashtray closer and tapping his cigarette on the edge. He seemed to have morphed back into nervous and Xander leaned back in his chair and studied him. Spike was - unchanged. Same intense gaze, same sarcastic mouth - same tapping fingers that never seemed to be still.

"So what's the story, Spike? How do you know what Angel told me, anyway? Maybe he told me the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth."

"So help him god? He's Irish, Xander. He wouldn't know how to tell the whole truth if St. Patrick himself demanded it." Off Xander's look Spike made a 'kill me now' face. "I'm a vampire. I'm allowed to hate the Irish. Especially bloody annoying ones with stupid hair. Trixie, you look smashing, as always."

"Huh?" Xander glanced up - and then did a double-take at what he supposed was their waitress. She dimpled at him, handing him a menu. She had - "Wings?"

"Ooh, he's new," Trixie said. Her voice was a cross between Betty Boop and Betty Grable and Xander shut his mouth with a snap and tried to ignore the way her tail - with a little fluffy pom-pom on the end - was flicking back and forth. She had a little black and white uniform on that did nothing to disguise the Bettie Page figure.

*Wow. No clue I knew so many Bettys.*

"Yeah, very new. Gimmie a Red Eye, whatever's on tap and -" Spike gestured his cigarette toward Xander who cleared his throat.

"Uh - how about - just some cranberry juice, okay?"

"Sure thing, stud." Trixie dimpled again and then flitted away. Xander realized that wearing panties with a tail was probably pretty difficult.

"Variation on the theme of wood-nymph," Spike said, and Xander dragged his gaze away from Trixie and focused on Spike again.

"Interesting. Are there guy-nymphs? Oh, hell. Never mind." Spike grinned. "I'm ready to hear the whole sordid story, Spike. Tell away."

"Why's it have to be sordid?"

"You're a vampire. There's always sordid."

Spike took a last drag and crushed out his cigarette. "Yeah, maybe. Anyway..."



The story took a long time. Through drinks, appetizers, food, more drinks, a dessert that Trixie said would send Xander to heaven, more drinks and an enlightening trip to the washroom. Xander was fairly certain he'd never look at demons the same again. Or look at demons, since that - scene - in the washroom kept intruding into his brain at the oddest moments.

"Okay - so. You and Buffy. Big, ugly relationship that she wanted to hide and you didn't. Screaming, hitting, crying, fucking. Then - one night you snap, jump her - get completely denied - and off you go to Africa."

"Been through this, Xander," Spike said, tipping his chair back and sipping the dregs of his sixth or seventh Red Eye.

"Yeah, but - I'm still a little boggled. Buffy says she figured out why you did it, you know. She told me that she'd been...subconsciously pushing you. She wanted you to give her an ultimatum. She'd never have been able to - uh - break up with you if you hadn't."

"That wasn't a break-up, Harris. That was -" Spike seemed at a loss for words and Xander leaned forward in his chair - met the hooded gaze with his own, wanting to be sure Spike understood.

"It was - the only way you knew how to make her listen to you. It was the only way you felt like you could get through her...coldness. Buffy's really good at freezing you out if she decides...she doesn't need you anymore."

"It was bloody madness, was what it was," Spike murmured. He looked up at Xander, squinting through the smoke of a fresh cigarette. "I did love her, you know. Thought I could help her. She was so unhappy... She didn't have to hide anything with me and... I wanted to be everything to her. Like she was to me. Hated it when I wasn't."

"Yeah. I get that." Xander took a drink of his ice-water - crunched up a cube of ice while Spike smoked. "Okay. So. Off to Africa to get the chip out."

"Yup. Knew a demon down there - could do about anything if you passed the trials. So, I did. Pass the trials, I mean. Said I wanted to be my old self." Spike visibly shook off the mood of the last few moments and Xander happily let him.

"That's dumb, Spike! He could have made you human!"

Spike looked thoughtful. "Suppose he could have. Wanker. Gave me back my soul instead. How is that my old self, I ask you! I've never been a souled vamp. That's Angel's lot in life."

"Yours now." Xander swirled his finger through the smears of hazelnut syrup on his dessert plate and contemplatively sucked. "But he took the chip out, too."

"Yeah. Thought it'd make me feel better about going barking mad. Stupid soul. Wailing and moaning and whinging all over the Dark Continent - tried to cut it out, a time or two. It's a wonder I made it to L.A. at all." Spike tamped out his cigarette, shaking his head.

"Is that - what those scars are from?" Xander asked, and Spike nodded shortly. "So - why'd you go to L.A.?" Xander got more syrup and licked his finger clean and Spike narrowed his eyes at him. "What?"

"Are you doing that on purpose?"

"Doing -? Oh! Oh, sorry, I -"

"Don't apologize, you git." Spike grinned - sprawled a little lower in his chair and went from mildly uptight to sultry in about three seconds. Xander felt the return of that little flutter in his stomach with resignation.

*Of course. My libido strikes at the most inappropriate moments. With the most inappropriate people. Oh. My. God. Did he just - touch himself?* Xander dragged his gaze away and heard Spike's soft chuckle. "So - L.A.?"

"Yeah, L.A. Thought Angelus could help - thought he might know how to get rid of the damn thing. But he just went on and on about redemption and second chances and - good god, it was boring."

"So you don't feel all - guilt-ridden? You're not - brooding?"

"Fuck, no!" Spike waved at Trixie, who zoomed away to get him another drink. "Angelus - well, Angel - he always said it wasn't him - he was a different person before he had his soul. He was right. There's me, Spike, who loves a good fight and a good fuck -" And there was that tongue-curling smile and Xander blushed to the roots of his hair. "And then there's William, who died in 1880. Poor bastard. Horrified by all the memories rushing in - all the things I did. Well - Spike did."

"Yeah, but - you're Spike."

"I'm Spike, I'm William - I'm bloody Sybil." Spike sat up, the teasing gone and his expression going serious - a little sad. "It's hard to make him shut up sometimes. And when I first had the soul - it burned so bloody hot - thought I'd burn up. But he didn't do - anything. It was all...me. Spike. Does this make - any sense?"

Xander did his best to really think about it. Think while trying not to find the exact name for the shade of blue Spike's eyes were. Or the right word to describe his skin, which was...poreless and so fucking perfect. He fiddled with an extra spoon, trying to concentrate. "I think - it's like those people who hear voices and - and think the F.B.I. is reading their brain waves. When they're not on the right medication it all makes sense. And then - when they are - it's all like..."

"Like a strange dream. One I'm still dreaming." Spike's left hand - rings winking dully in the low light - spread itself on the table-top - slowly traced a pattern on the checkered cloth. "He's learning to deal. I've made some...concessions. But there's no guilt, Xander. I'm a vampire. I'm - a predator. He was - is - a poetry-loving man who never wanted anything more out of life than a wife and family. We're still...getting used to each other."

Spike's hand drifted nearer, following the red squares and Xander watched it - watched the tip of Spike's index finger come closer to where his own hand was nervously turning the spoon over and over. When Spike's finger touched his, Xander froze. He looked up at Spike, who was looking back at him with a strange, closed expression on his face. As if he were bracing himself for something. Something bad.

"I think - we should go," Xander whispered, and Spike smiled, just a curve of his lips that opened the shutters over his eyes and made them alive again.

"I think we should, too."



The motorcycle ride wasn't quite so awful this time - maybe because Xander was a little giddy, so the swooping turns and hard accelerations didn't bother him quite as much. They ended up somewhere in Wallingford in sight of Union Lake, Spike guiding the bike into a covered garage that flanked a tall, old house. Similar to the house he'd been in when Xander had first seen him, but this time there didn't seem to be any other tenants.

"You live here by yourself?"

"Mostly. Sometimes I have a sleep-over." Spike grinned at him and patted the bike - ushered Xander out of the garage and padlocked the doors, then led him up the walk to the front door. There were marigolds, thick and bright, in the beds around the front steps. "Don't give me that look," Spike said, noticing Xander's surprised inspection. "Raif has a gardener or something."

"This is one of his houses? I've never seen it."

"It was all renovated before you came here, I suppose." Spike unlocked the door and they went inside, crossing a floor tiled in a compass rose pattern and heading up. There were dim little lights in sconces along the stairwell at intervals, but Xander still stumbled, his damaged vision betraying him.

"Sorry. Didn't think about the light. Nearly there." Spike's hand reached back and patted his shoulder and Xander felt carefully for the next step.

"You live - upstairs?"

"Yeah. Attic space, really. Like how it feels. It's all empty downstairs."

It was fairly empty upstairs. When Spike pushed open the door at the top of the stair and flipped on a light Xander saw that the large, oddly-angled space was taken up mostly by a huge couch scattered with cushions, a wall of books and music and electronic equipment and a huge bed with carved posts and a canopy. A sheer drape hung down, half-concealing a claw-foot tub that was centered away from the walls. That was all.

"Raif's niece designed it. Had visions of her artist friend staying here and painting or some such. Didn't work out." Spike was shedding his boots - tossing his coat over an upright chair by the door and Xander unzipped his jacket and hoodie and lay them with Spike's coat and then stood there, fidgeting.

"I, uh - need to wash my hands," he said finally, and Spike gestured off into the shadows to the left of the tub.

"Proper loo over there, behind that door. The niece thought it was unaesthetic." Spike grinned and Xander smiled back - walked into the shadows, skirting the tub that had been glazed a deep, oceanic blue. Once inside the small blue and green and white cubicle he turned on the water and washed his hands - splashed a little water on his face. The mirror over the sink was pristine - the sink itself gleamed. It was obvious Spike didn't come in here much.

Xander stared at himself in the mirror. Patch off, hair wind-knotted and damp - face dripping and a little flushed from the chill of the ride. *Do you know what you're doing? What are you doing? You're...contemplating getting Spike naked and... Jesus Christ.* "I must be out of my mind," Xander muttered, and there was a soft laugh from the doorway. "God!" Xander spun around, glaring at Spike. "Don't do that!"

"Really think you're losing your mind, Xander?" Spike asked, and Xander realized that the wash-faded shirt Spike was wearing was unbuttoned - that the air behind him was shimmering with the wavering light of several candles and that Spike was very, very close.

"I - I think maybe I'm a little - unbalanced right now," Xander said - reached out very slowly and ran his fingertip over one of the thin, jagged scars that criss-crossed Spike's chest. Where his heart was. Spike made a small, breathy sort of sound - took a step closer so that Xander's fingers flattened on his skin - palm lying over the knot where all the scars met. "Does it still hurt?" Xander whispered and Spike stepped closer still, letting his hand come to rest on top of Xander's - lifting the other to delicately trace the edge of the empty socket in Xander's face.

"Does this?"

Xander closed his eye - long blink, trying to gather his scattered wits. "Just...sometimes. When - when I've had a rough day."

"Yeah. Me too," Spike said. Then they were kissing and Xander let his hand curve around bone and muscle - slide up Spike's back until it rested on the slight ridge of spine between Spike's shoulder blades. Spike's hand slipped back through Xander's hair - cupped his skull and coaxed him closer, his other hand finding the edge of Xander's Henley shirt and pushing up under it.

Spike's mouth was cool and smoky with an underlying tang that might be tomato juice - might be blood. Soft, where Xander thought it would be rough and yielding where Xander expected dominance. Xander tasted slowly - explored the slick teeth and high arch of the roof Spike's mouth - pushed his own tongue against Spike's when it snaked past his lips and curled, as arousing from the inside as it was from the outside. Xander gasped in a sharp little breath and Spike pulled away.

"All right, then? Xander?"

"Yeah. All right." Xander moved his fingers, pressing them into Spike's back; onetwothreefour, onetwothreefour. Rubbing a small circle with his thumb. His left hand rested lightly on the buckle of Spike's belt and he let his fingertips just brush the curved indent of Spike's navel. "I think - I'm wearing too many clothes."

Spike laughed softly - let his hand slide down to the back of Xander's neck and lightly rub there. "Me too."

Comments

[tabaqui]

But i have the t-shirt!
*points to icon*

[sorrelchestnut.livejournal.com]

That's true, you do have the tshirt. Are we competing for levels of evillness now? Because it's been said that any child I have will be the AntiChrist, which makes me pretty evil.

[tabaqui]

Oh. Antichrist.
Pfft.

He's so passe.

:) I already have the Monstrous Bebe...
*la la la*

[sorrelchestnut.livejournal.com]

Oh, well, in that case, I think I'll have to concede. I win for greatest tragedy, but you win for greatest evillness. Wanna call it a tie, or go for two out of three?

[tabaqui]

I say we call it a tie.

...

Cake?
:)

[sorrelchestnut.livejournal.com]

Cake would be excellent.