tabaqui | Neverland....chapter eight! *s/x*

Neverland....chapter eight! s/x

Saturday, September 30th, 2006 10:24 pm

My my, what a day! Crazy goings-on with livejournal and all this nonsense about 'sponsored communities'...gah!

I swear, LJ is just becoming so damn annoying. Read the post linked in that one to get the full story. Sheesh.

Chilly again, rainy a little, things that make me *happy*! I'm wearing my flannel pj pants! I'm huddling over the space heater in the mornings when the Monstrous Bebe gets ready for school! All, all good.

Speaking of the Monstrous Bebe...clickity to see her school picture. OMG, she's just... Way too pretty and grown-up and...*smart*. Help!! *Yis, i'm bragging. I get to do that, i'm her mum!*

Anyway - more Neverland! Sorry for the delay. Life...happens. :)
Previous chapters here.
Thanks, as always, to

reremouse for her excellent poking and prodding and back-and-forthing. And you guys!! You rock. Feedback on 'Drowning Not Waving' is just...awesome!
*bounce*

Xander was down near the shore – a boat-landing, apparently, the beach scattered with bark canoes and racks of drying nets. Spike followed the solid thwack thwack thwack of wood striking wood more easily than Tink's erratic, hummingbird flight. When Xander came into view, Spike finally saw the reason for all the noise. Xander had a long branch in his hands and was systematically decimating a half-rotten, lightning struck tree. Spike came to a stop in the heavy shadows of the trail, watching.

Xander was breathing hard, his skin oiled with a fine sheen of sweat. His clawed leg was bleeding a little through the bandage. A steady breeze came in off the sea, doing nothing to dispel the low, leaden clouds that bulked to the horizon. Spike lifted his head, taking in a long breath. Xander smelled of iron and salt and something savory-sweet – he smelled alive, and it made Spike's mouth water. He watched the flex and shift of muscles under the scarred skin of Xander's back as he lifted the branch – brought it down and around, again and again. Spike wanted to bite into him – wanted to feel the weight of his fangs sheering through that salty, dusky flesh.

*Don't have time for that... Need to get out of this bloody place.* Spike wasn't sure if getting out – if any of it – really hinged on Xander being himself or not. But one hundred years with Dru had taught him one thing, for sure: you can never know all the rules. *Figured Dru out, most times. I can figure out this little boy…* "Think you've killed it right proper, mate," Spike said, stepping out onto the sloping, pebbled beach and Xander whirled around, branch up and ready. Face flushed – hair in lank strings across his face. And tears. *Christ…*

"Fuck you! Get away from me."

"C'mon now, boy – don't be like that."

"Be like what?" Xander barked, his voice rough – thickened with emotion. He strode straight at Spike, branch raised and Spike hopped back with a curse when the end came whistling through the air, narrowly missing him. "I know how to fucking kill you and I will kill you, bastard!"

"You'll try, I suppose," Spike said and let the demon slip out. Xander's eyes went hot and narrow with rage and then he attacked. Spike grinned, bouncing a little on the balls of his feet – relaxing into the familiar rhythm of a fight. Turn and duck, reach and swing. Pulling the punches or kicks that would have shattered bone – surprised and pleased when Xander got in a few good hits. Made Spike's lip bleed – made his ribs ache. But Xander was already on the fine, fraying edge of himself. Was already skidding down the slope of burn out, his adrenalin flagging and his injured leg giving out under him once and then twice and then Spike kicked it and he was down, on his back – branch skidding away.

Spike went down too – knees on either side of heaving ribs, his hand loosely over Xander's throat. Xander fought on, his broken nails digging into Spike's wrist, his fist flailing blindly at Spike's face. Spike just grabbed and held on – rode out the cursing and the wild-bronco bucking until Xander lay still, panting. Still crying, face wet and eyes wide and blood on his mouth.

*That's right. Get it all out. Settle yourself, now – got things to do.* "You done?" Spike asked, and Xander worked his mouth, like he was going to spit. Spike let his fingers tighten just a little. "I wouldn't, boy."

"Let me up."

"Maybe. If you're nice."

The noise Xander made was choked – a little wheezy, and Spike eased back, fingertips stroking lightly over the skittering pulse, Xander's trapped wrist flexing under his other hand. "I'm not nice. I'm not – not anything, I'm –"

"You're Xander. Xander Harris. You used to live in Sunnydale sodding California and you used to know a Slayer." Spike almost laughed at the look of bewildered surprise that crossed Xander's face. "Annoying blonde twat of a Slayer. And you know what vampires are, and you know me, though I'll be buggered if I can remember you."

"You – you were gonna bite me. At the school. Angel –"

"Angelus?" Spike unconsciously leaned back, his hand slipping away from Xander's throat and Xander twitched like he wanted to get up.

"No, Angel. He was all – souled up and broody and he dragged me into the school and you were there –"

"I'll be damned," Spike said, and Xander actually laughed, shrill and a little shaky. "That was you, then? The little bit of all right all tucked up under the git's arm?"

"Uh. I – guess? Angel was gonna – give me to you or something. For a snack."

"You're really quite a bit more than a snack," Spike murmured, shifting on his knees just a little. Arse to pelvis and this time Xander all but growled, flailing and kicking and panting and Spike just pushed himself to his feet and yanked Xander up by his still-captive wrist. "You'll hurt yourself, mate," Spike said.

"Fuck off." Xander pushed his palms flat to his eyes – ground them around for a moment and then shoved his damp hair back, off his face. "Fuck. I stink. And my leg hurts. I want some god damn soda."

"I want a bottle of Jack and off this poxy island. The red-head said Hook didn't die."

"Huh? Well – Peter says he killed him but in the town, they say he didn't. He's not the same, whatever happened to him." Xander brushed at damp leaves and dirt that were sticking to his belly. "Come on, the Indians have soap."

"I need to meet this Hook. If he knows a way out –"

"He'll kill you," Xander said, and Spike felt for one of his few remaining cigarettes with a sigh.

"I'm bloody hard to kill, boy. Took out two Slayers, I have, and fought yours to a standstill once or twice. Don't think some washed-up pirate can do me in."

"You'd be surprised," Xander muttered. He started limping back up the trail to the village and Spike followed. "Why did…why'd you come after me, anyway?"

Spike took a pull off his smoke and considered what, exactly, to say. He didn't want to admit to being railroaded by a bunch of sodding kids. Or to be scared of never getting out of this madhouse.

He was interrupted by Tink, who'd zoomed away at the start of the fight. The fairy was suddenly back, wallowing through the air like a drunken pigeon and crashing head-long into Xander's chest. Xander's hands came up automatically, cupping the tiny body and Tink hung off his thumb, panting, gossamer wings drooping limply down.

"What in hell –?"

"Tink? What's wrong? You're – not very glowy."

Tink chimed faintly, the glow fading fast. Without it, Tink was palely blue, the color of the sky on a chill winter morning. But the blue was going ashy and as Xander lifted his hands, a thread of scarlet blood spilled over Tink's lips.

"Oh, Jesus! Tink!" Tink's eyes were half-shut, the attenuated body jerking in little spasms. There was a smear of something pink and sticky on his fingers and Spike leaned in and sniffed carefully.

"Smells weird. Smells off. Can they be poisoned?"

Xander looked up at Spike, eyes widening in horror. "Oh, fuck. Yeah, they can. We gotta – gotta go. The Indians –" Xander started running, cupping Tink close to his chest and Spike flicked the cherry off his cigarette and stuffed the unsmoked half into a pocket, loping after Xander.

"What'd he say, before?" Spike asked, and Xander glanced back at him, dodging a low-hanging branch, panting.

"Something about the…pirates…and Tootles and Wendy… I think...they got 'em. I think the pirates got all three."

"Never a dull moment, is there?" Spike grumbled, leaping a clump of brambles. But – captives had to be rescued, didn't they? Looked like he was going to meet Captain Hook sooner than he thought. *And without Pan around, too. Better and better.*

Tags:

neverland,
spander

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