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Hullo, hullo!
Well, March has been odd. First lamb-like, then lion-like, now sort of...in between. Plus tornado sirens and hail and torrential rain! Wheee! I do *like* weather.
The response over at![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
douse_house has been awesome - thank you guys so much! *bounce*
I've also posted another Supernatural ficlet inkaz2y5. The challenge word was 'kink'... I think you'll probably be surprised. :) Demon. The rest are in my memories.
It's Spring Break here, so the Monstrous is playing lots of Toon Town and just went on a veritable sticker-buying *orgy* from the machines outside the horrible K-Mart. Fifty cents for a sticker! Sheesh. Ah well, they're *her* quarters.
We watched the HBO show 'Deadwood' - seasons one and two. OMG! Loved it. *All* of it. Season three appartenly doesn't start until July? Who knows when we'll get to watch but man - can't wait! Also watching 'Carnivale' - also HBO. It's extremely odd and very frustrating. I know it was cancelled after season two - i hope they managed to resolve the arcs even a *little*. All in all, enjoyable stuff! *hugs Calamity Jane*
On a slightly more personal note, in the past few months i've gotten several requests to beta fic. It's frankly quite boggling. I *don't* beta. I'm not much good at it and i've never put my name on any beta lists or anything. This isn't directed *at* anyone, but i just want to make it clear - i'm not a beta! *Unless your name is![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
roxymissrose and that's 'cause she's my roxy and the rules don't apply to her.*
On to the fic! Of course,reremouse and darkhavens gave it a good going over. *snogs them* The previous parts are here.
Of course it was back to the Council headquarters the next day, to sit in Giles office and watch him and Wesley dance around each other. A card table in the corner for Wes and stacks of papers, books and ratty scrolls on every flat surface. Wes was on the phone taking rapid notes, his hair a rat's nest and his cheeks dark with stubble. He looked a bit post-Illyria, really, and Spike hoped he wouldn't be having one of his...spells. Giles was balancing two books on his lap and writing something, glasses slipping down and his shirt sleeves rolled up, tie askew and top button undone.
"Jeez, have you guys even slept?" Xander asked, and stepped hastily aside for the divine Miss M, who was just bringing in a loaded tea tray.
Spike looked it over critically. "Hope you got the good jam this time, that plum was a bit -"
"That is for myself and Wesley, Spike, if you don't mind - we've been hard at it since sun-up! Yesterday!" Giles cleared a space for the tray and shot warning looks at Spike and Spike reached for his cigarettes, slumping down into one of the chairs.
"Not very mannerly, are you?"
"You don't even need to eat!" Giles snapped, and Wesley put the phone down and rubbed his eyes.
"Is there tea? Thank god." There were a few moments of tea-making and shuffling about. Xander got the folding chair out and Wes mainlined two cups, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. "We've worked out how to do - everything. Lure the demon and trick it with your soul, Spike, and then collect your soul again when the demon is destroyed and - and put it back in you."
"Got it all figured out, do you?"
"Yes, I believe we do." Wes picked up a currant bun and nibbled. "It's a variation on something we used once with Angel, a muo ping. It's a sort of a...jar of holding." Xander made a snorting noise and Spike made a mental note to ask him what that was about. "We'll need something from you, Xander, in order to set things in motion."
"Yeah? Okay...what?"
"Just a little blood," Giles said. His voice was scratchy and he was downing little deviled-ham-and-cress sandwiches like the Fyarl he'd once been, wolfish snaps of his teeth into soft white bread. "It's for a glamour, of sorts. To make Spike look and smell like you."
"Better ways to do that," Spike muttered, too low for anyone but Xander to hear and Xander snorted again, flush of blood rushing to his face that made Spike want to grab him right there - show the Watchers a thing or two about vampires and sex. *Right there over that desk would do nicely...fucking hell.*
"Okay, so - blood, glamour - the demon grabs Spike and we zap it?"
"You don't do any -"
"Xander, I really think that -"
"Perhaps -"
"Stop!" Xander actually yelled and the three of them stopped talking - stared at him in surprise as he pushed a hand back over his still-tufty-but-growing hair and then leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together between his knees. "Look. I get it. I'm just human, nothing special, blah blah. But if you think I'm going to - to hide away somewhere while you guys -" Xander leveled a glare at the Watchers, who bridled. "You guys who are - are mostly just human do all the dirty work, you're crazy. All of you," Xander added, turning his gimlet stare on Spike, and Spike snarled.
"Don't care if you think we're sodding barking, that's not the bloody point -"
"No, it's not," Xander said, and his voice was tired - a little sharp. "The point is, from what Giles and you both told me... This is my job. My - thing. I went looking for Slayers and I found this demon and - I have to be there. I have to be there." His fingers washed and washed and washed together and Spike smoked the last inch of his cigarette - ground it out on the bottom of his boot, watching that restless movement. Knowing exactly what Xander was thinking about.
"Okay. You're right." Spike held up a forestalling hand as both Watchers opened their mouths to protest. "We're going to be controlling this. We'll make sure it goes exactly where we want, and we'll make sure it's a place that's safe." He stared, jaw clenched, ignoring the flummoxed look from Giles and the knowing smirk from Wesley. The Watchers finally exchanged glances and nodded, giving in.
"I suppose we could do another glamour. To - to disguise Xander," Wesley said, drawing a piece of paper towards himself - plucking a pencil out of a cup. "There's that one by Horbach, it's easy and quite effective -"
"Oh, yes - quite. That will do nicely. Now, Xander - I'm afraid we need the blood."
"Sure," Xander said. "Thanks, Spike."
"Just make sure you do what we say," Spike muttered, flashing back to Dawn and 'mind me' and not feeling like a sitter at all, no. Feeling like a slightly panicky lover who was facing something dire for the first time. *I'm a bloody fool.*
"Sir, yes sir," Xander muttered, but there was life back in his voice and his fingers clenched together once and then dropped away to rest naturally on his thighs, tension easing out of his shoulders with almost audible clicks.
"Right - ready?" Giles was holding a small silver dagger and a pottery bowl that had some sort of markings on the inside in what looked like charcoal and Xander blinked and then straightened in his chair.
"Yeah, let's - let's just get it over with."
"Of course. Spike, if you would -" Giles held out the bowl and Spike took it - reached across Xander and lifted his left arm.
"Just hold it up, yeah? It won't hurt much. Will it?" he added, looking at Giles with a little glimmer of gold in his eyes and Giles narrowed his eyes and huffed, coming around the end of the desk.
"Of course it won't. I'm not a butcher. Now, Xander - just hold still." Giles put his hand below Spike's on Xander's arm, gripping firmly. He rested the silver blade on the fleshy part of Xander's forearm. "Libere datus," he murmured, and slashed down. Xander twitched but held still, his teeth in his lip, and a thin line of ruby welled up and then ran down. Spike caught the drops in the bowl and when there was about a teaspoon's worth in the bottom, Giles nodded. "That is sufficient, thank you," he said, and Wesley appeared over Spike's shoulder with a wad of gauze that smelt strongly of witch hazel.
Bowl and gauze shifted around and Spike was left holding the gauze to Xander's arm while Wes and Giles did something with the bowl, tucking it out of sight. "You all right?" Spike asked, and Xander nodded.
"Yeah, I'm good. It didn't really hurt - just kinda stung. What - what was that you said, Giles?" Xander put his own fingers over Spike's and Spike reluctantly let him take control of the gauze. Wishing - with a little twist of heat and tingle down in his gut - that he could put his mouth to Xander's skin and taste...
"Eh? Oh - I said 'given freely'. It's - a bit of a blessing. That spell won't work if you obtain the blood through subterfuge or violence. Now - that's done..."
"And I think it's time we were off home," Wesley said, eyeing the last of the sandwiches on the tray. "We'll need to do some tricky spell-work to set everything up and I, for one, would feel better about it if we were well-rested. Rupert?"
"Hmmm? Oh, yes, yes..." Giles started out of a semi-daze, looking around vaguely and slowly gathering up his jacket, a leather-bound notebook and a few papers from the desk.
Spike reached over and picked up a small cream cake, holding it out to Xander. "Here, better have that. Don't want you getting wobbly after the blood-letting."
Xander took the cake with a roll of his eye. "It's not like they took a bowl-ful or something. I'm fine." He stuffed the cake in his mouth anyway, earning a tsk from Giles and a grin from Wesley.
"Never underestimate the fretting power of the vampire, Xander - like father like son, I'd say."
"Angel is not my sodding father, Percy! Bloody Irish bastard is - was - nothing more than a - a distant relation! On Dru's side, and you know what she was like."
"Yes, actually..." Wesley's face took on a distant expression and Spike stood up fast.
"Right. We've got our own - things. To do. So -" Spike was interrupted by the phone and Giles spoke briefly, his shoulders slumping and his face taking on a hard look.
"Yes. Yes, all right. Yes, please fax that to Miss Merchant... Thank you." Giles rang off and stood there, silent, and Wes finally took the phone out of his hand.
"What is it, Rupert?"
"That was - was an operative in Germany. We've been tracking the demon and - we were sure it was making its way overland from - from India. It was spotted in Berlin..." Giles rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, sighing. "It's managed, somehow, to move more rapidly than we anticipated. And...another Slayer is missing. It's getting - much stronger, much too quickly. We have perhaps a day."
"Oh, fuck," Xander whispered, and Spike felt the demon rise - up and out with a soft growl.
"Then you two better get your kip in and get to work. I've got my own preparations to make. Xander -"
"I'm not staying here," Xander snapped, and Spike reached out rapped his knuckles on Xander's skull.
"I know that, you git. Safest place is with me, yeah? And thank Christ for bloody English weather or I'd be reduced to dodging through the streets in a blanket."
"I think I'd pay to see that," Xander said - shaky laugh and a punch to Spike's shoulder, doing his best to hide the fear that was making his heart trip-hammer behind his bones.
"You don't have the bloody means. Rupert - Percy -" Spike nodded once and then strode out of the office, leaving the Watchers to whatever preparations they had. He had to see a man about a dog. A very magical dog.
"Spike? What did I just step in?"
Spike considered. "Viscera, I'd say. Liver? No - that's spleen there, see -"
"Oh god -" Xander looked around and then lunged for the crumbling edge of the ledge they were traversing.
Spike snatched him backwards by his jacket collar. "What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
"Scraping this off, Spike! It keeps squishing."
"Plenty more of that where we're going." Spike smoothed Xander's collar down and then found his hand smoothing Xander's nape - the silky-soft hair just under the curve of his skull and Xander's eye went a little darker, pupil expanding. "There's a nest of Krv around here - they're not keen on calling 'round the bin-men."
"Are they - keen - on attacking harmless passers-by for all their viscera needs?" Xander asked, swaying closer, a gold and earth-brown cobra in the dim amber light.
"Xander, that's a dog spleen."
"You really know how to turn a guy on," Xander murmured and swayed right into Spike, warm mouth pressing tight and warm hand slipping under Spike's coat to splay, heavy and possessive, across the small of Spike's back.
"Always been one of my specialties," Spike murmured back, curling his fingers up through Xander's hair and fisting his other hand in Xander's jacket collar. Keeping him close. A distant rumble became a rushing roar and the wire-strung incandescent bulbs that were hung overhead - one for every fifteen or so feet - trembled and chimed against the old, slimed brickwork. Jubilee line, dragon in the dark and Xander shivered under Spike's fingers and pulled slowly back.
"Probably should - keep moving," he said, a little breathless, and Spike nodded slowly.
"Yeah, probably should. Doesn't do to keep this bloke waiting."
"Yeah." Another moment of stillness and then Spike blinked and really did back off - let his hands slide slowly down and away and Xander let him, grinning.
"I guess this is what you meant by 'demon magnet', huh? Can't keep your hands off me."
"You're an insufferable prat, mate, and don't you forget it," Spike said, and neatly side-stepped a pancreas. "Now that's human."
"Fucking - hell - thanks, love," Spike said, taking the cigarette Xander was offering, smiling at little at the flushed cheeks on the man opposite. At the slip of the tongue that Xander hadn't seemed to mind - or not noticed, maybe. "All right, now?"
Xander coughed again. "Yeah, sure, I'm fine. Catch me volunteering to light one of those tubes of evil, carcinogenic death again!" Xander huffed into his curled fist and made a face.
"Flask in my coat there," Spike said, trying not to bite his cigarette in half. The needles bit deep, coated in a pale mixture of holy water and salt from the Dead Sea. Thin trails of blood were running from the center of Spike's biceps and the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades. Ticklish and chilly in the damp air but Spike didn't move except to puff smoke slowly in and out. Xander dug out his flask and took a tiny sip - made a face and took another.
"Smoke tastes a lot better second hand," Xander said, and Spike grinned at him.
Doormun - who wasn't a mage, exactly, and wasn't a witch, exactly, or even exactly human - dipped the needles into the little cup of solution and leaned in, tattoo machine whining like a dentist's drill as he slowly drew the complicated veve over Spike's sternum. Last one, thank Christ, because the hard burn and buzzing sting and tickling, trickling blood were all about to drive Spike over the edge. But he sat carefully still instead and smoked and watched Xander flinch for him.
He'd told Xander the marks were for protection. To keep the demon off him, to keep the Watcher's spells from doing what they weren't supposed to do. Specific to being a vampire and not for him and Xander had just nodded and watched with a wide eye. Sucked in air and shifted uncomfortably when Spike's skin had blistered under the drops of holy water and sent up thin tendrils of white smoke.
"Not so bad," Spike said, and Xander shook his head.
"It looks fucking - horrible. Your skin -" Xander took a last, tiny sip of whisky and tucked Spike's flask away again.
"Be all healed after my next meal, yeah? No worries." Doormun hissed a little between his teeth, shooting Spike a hard glance and Spike stopped talking, willing himself back to that null place he'd spent so much time in after losing his hands. After Glory and after his spine had been crushed and after he'd been half-flayed that time in Amsterdam. Except the null place was a little harder to achieve with Xander right there, soft scent of leather and salt and lust, his hands curling and twitching because he wanted to reach out and touch, and he couldn't. Spike found himself watching those hands, instead. Imagining those hands, and that was pretty much as far from null as you could get.
"Yah, is all done, then," Doormun muttered, sitting back, and Spike blinked and reached up to carefully take the mostly-ashed cigarette from his mouth. He looked down at his chest, grimacing a little, and then twitched back as Doormun slapped a soaking-wet towel over the veve.
"Jesus Christ! That's bloody cold!"
"Vill feel better. Vater from the fjords, salt from Lot's vife, vhite sage, cocaine. Vill make the blut stop."
"Could've given me some warning," Spike muttered. Doormun cleaned away the blood from all four marks and then stood up, cracking his back and his neck and his fingers, looking like a gnome made of gnarled twigs and dried sinew, his skin rough and dark. "Anything I need to know?"
"Vill hurt, when they vorking. You vill know. No hot tubs or sunlight. Huurn."
"Ha, very funny. What'd you think, Xander? Still got my looks, then?" Spike stood up as well and let Xander turn him left and right - step around him to examine his back.
"I dunno. I'm not sure about a guy with tattoos, man. It's kinda - hard core." Xander was grinning but he reached out and lightly touched the red skin over Spike's heart. "Does it still hurt?"
"Burns a bit, is all. I've had worse. Doormun, as always - top drawer."
"Al-vays a pleasure, Herr Spike. Take my card - take two! You may haf a friend -?"
"This one's 'bout it,' Spike said, taking the cards and tipping a nod toward Xander - finding his shirt and pulling it on with a wince. Xander gathered up his coat and handed it across and Spike pulled out another cigarette. "Right, then - off we go. Doormun."
"Herr Spike," Doormun said, little click of his heels and a bow - bow toward Xander who nodded back. They were silent for the twenty minutes or so it took to climb back up to street level. They stood in the shadow of a doorway for a moment, Spike finishing a third smoke and Xander scraping the soles of his boots on the edge of a concrete step.
"Well - that was fun. Who knew there were ents living under London?"
"He's not a bloody ent."
"Kind of looked like one. Like the hickory one, maybe. Or oak."
"He was a bit - rough," Spike said. The sun was nowhere in a nowhere-grey sky, mist sifting down fine as flour over them and the streets shining like glass, streaked with neon and the blue-white of halogen headlights. "Could go for a pint - round of billiards, maybe, something -"
"To pass the time?" Xander stopped scraping his boot and looked over at Spike. "I think if this demon's gonna be in town in twenty-four hours I'd like to spend my last -"
"Not your last -"
"My last hours as...as this Xander doing something...else."
"Yeah?" Spike tilted his head a little, giving Xander his best 'come let me ravish you' once-over, and Xander blushed hard.
"Fuck yeah."
"Talked me into it, then," Spike said, and Xander looked...relieved, which wasn't right.
Later, in the warm murk of Xander's living room - in the cocoon of scent and sweat and blankets - Spike lifted his head from Xander's throat and looked down at him, knowing his eyes were glittering demon-gold.
"You're not going to die, you know."
"Feels like I might. Feels like - like I'm going to be turned off like a switch." Xander's fingers rubbed slowly along Spike's spine and he shifted a little, one leg tangled with Spike's, the other hooked across his thighs. His own eye was dark and wide and a little wet, long lashes like cobwebs.
"I promise you'll remember. S'why I didn't want... Well, why this is a bloody bad idea, yeah?"
"Yeah, worst fucking idea of my life," Xander said softly. "I'm sorry I was...sorry for being a jerk all the time."
"Don't be bloody daft," Spike growled, and Xander laughed.
"Trying, man. I'm..." Xander took in a sharp, shaking breath and Spike worked his hands a little further beneath Xander's back, pulling him closer and dropping a short kiss onto Xander's mouth.
"I know, love. You are, and I am. It's all right."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Xander whispered, and Spike closed his eyes and leaned in.
Well, March has been odd. First lamb-like, then lion-like, now sort of...in between. Plus tornado sirens and hail and torrential rain! Wheee! I do *like* weather.
The response over at
douse_house has been awesome - thank you guys so much! *bounce*I've also posted another Supernatural ficlet in
kaz2y5. The challenge word was 'kink'... I think you'll probably be surprised. :) Demon. The rest are in my memories.It's Spring Break here, so the Monstrous is playing lots of Toon Town and just went on a veritable sticker-buying *orgy* from the machines outside the horrible K-Mart. Fifty cents for a sticker! Sheesh. Ah well, they're *her* quarters.
We watched the HBO show 'Deadwood' - seasons one and two. OMG! Loved it. *All* of it. Season three appartenly doesn't start until July? Who knows when we'll get to watch but man - can't wait! Also watching 'Carnivale' - also HBO. It's extremely odd and very frustrating. I know it was cancelled after season two - i hope they managed to resolve the arcs even a *little*. All in all, enjoyable stuff! *hugs Calamity Jane*
On a slightly more personal note, in the past few months i've gotten several requests to beta fic. It's frankly quite boggling. I *don't* beta. I'm not much good at it and i've never put my name on any beta lists or anything. This isn't directed *at* anyone, but i just want to make it clear - i'm not a beta! *Unless your name is
roxymissrose and that's 'cause she's my roxy and the rules don't apply to her.*On to the fic! Of course,
reremouse and darkhavens gave it a good going over. *snogs them* The previous parts are here.Of course it was back to the Council headquarters the next day, to sit in Giles office and watch him and Wesley dance around each other. A card table in the corner for Wes and stacks of papers, books and ratty scrolls on every flat surface. Wes was on the phone taking rapid notes, his hair a rat's nest and his cheeks dark with stubble. He looked a bit post-Illyria, really, and Spike hoped he wouldn't be having one of his...spells. Giles was balancing two books on his lap and writing something, glasses slipping down and his shirt sleeves rolled up, tie askew and top button undone.
"Jeez, have you guys even slept?" Xander asked, and stepped hastily aside for the divine Miss M, who was just bringing in a loaded tea tray.
Spike looked it over critically. "Hope you got the good jam this time, that plum was a bit -"
"That is for myself and Wesley, Spike, if you don't mind - we've been hard at it since sun-up! Yesterday!" Giles cleared a space for the tray and shot warning looks at Spike and Spike reached for his cigarettes, slumping down into one of the chairs.
"Not very mannerly, are you?"
"You don't even need to eat!" Giles snapped, and Wesley put the phone down and rubbed his eyes.
"Is there tea? Thank god." There were a few moments of tea-making and shuffling about. Xander got the folding chair out and Wes mainlined two cups, his fingers shaking ever so slightly. "We've worked out how to do - everything. Lure the demon and trick it with your soul, Spike, and then collect your soul again when the demon is destroyed and - and put it back in you."
"Got it all figured out, do you?"
"Yes, I believe we do." Wes picked up a currant bun and nibbled. "It's a variation on something we used once with Angel, a muo ping. It's a sort of a...jar of holding." Xander made a snorting noise and Spike made a mental note to ask him what that was about. "We'll need something from you, Xander, in order to set things in motion."
"Yeah? Okay...what?"
"Just a little blood," Giles said. His voice was scratchy and he was downing little deviled-ham-and-cress sandwiches like the Fyarl he'd once been, wolfish snaps of his teeth into soft white bread. "It's for a glamour, of sorts. To make Spike look and smell like you."
"Better ways to do that," Spike muttered, too low for anyone but Xander to hear and Xander snorted again, flush of blood rushing to his face that made Spike want to grab him right there - show the Watchers a thing or two about vampires and sex. *Right there over that desk would do nicely...fucking hell.*
"Okay, so - blood, glamour - the demon grabs Spike and we zap it?"
"You don't do any -"
"Xander, I really think that -"
"Perhaps -"
"Stop!" Xander actually yelled and the three of them stopped talking - stared at him in surprise as he pushed a hand back over his still-tufty-but-growing hair and then leaned forward, his hands clasped tightly together between his knees. "Look. I get it. I'm just human, nothing special, blah blah. But if you think I'm going to - to hide away somewhere while you guys -" Xander leveled a glare at the Watchers, who bridled. "You guys who are - are mostly just human do all the dirty work, you're crazy. All of you," Xander added, turning his gimlet stare on Spike, and Spike snarled.
"Don't care if you think we're sodding barking, that's not the bloody point -"
"No, it's not," Xander said, and his voice was tired - a little sharp. "The point is, from what Giles and you both told me... This is my job. My - thing. I went looking for Slayers and I found this demon and - I have to be there. I have to be there." His fingers washed and washed and washed together and Spike smoked the last inch of his cigarette - ground it out on the bottom of his boot, watching that restless movement. Knowing exactly what Xander was thinking about.
"Okay. You're right." Spike held up a forestalling hand as both Watchers opened their mouths to protest. "We're going to be controlling this. We'll make sure it goes exactly where we want, and we'll make sure it's a place that's safe." He stared, jaw clenched, ignoring the flummoxed look from Giles and the knowing smirk from Wesley. The Watchers finally exchanged glances and nodded, giving in.
"I suppose we could do another glamour. To - to disguise Xander," Wesley said, drawing a piece of paper towards himself - plucking a pencil out of a cup. "There's that one by Horbach, it's easy and quite effective -"
"Oh, yes - quite. That will do nicely. Now, Xander - I'm afraid we need the blood."
"Sure," Xander said. "Thanks, Spike."
"Just make sure you do what we say," Spike muttered, flashing back to Dawn and 'mind me' and not feeling like a sitter at all, no. Feeling like a slightly panicky lover who was facing something dire for the first time. *I'm a bloody fool.*
"Sir, yes sir," Xander muttered, but there was life back in his voice and his fingers clenched together once and then dropped away to rest naturally on his thighs, tension easing out of his shoulders with almost audible clicks.
"Right - ready?" Giles was holding a small silver dagger and a pottery bowl that had some sort of markings on the inside in what looked like charcoal and Xander blinked and then straightened in his chair.
"Yeah, let's - let's just get it over with."
"Of course. Spike, if you would -" Giles held out the bowl and Spike took it - reached across Xander and lifted his left arm.
"Just hold it up, yeah? It won't hurt much. Will it?" he added, looking at Giles with a little glimmer of gold in his eyes and Giles narrowed his eyes and huffed, coming around the end of the desk.
"Of course it won't. I'm not a butcher. Now, Xander - just hold still." Giles put his hand below Spike's on Xander's arm, gripping firmly. He rested the silver blade on the fleshy part of Xander's forearm. "Libere datus," he murmured, and slashed down. Xander twitched but held still, his teeth in his lip, and a thin line of ruby welled up and then ran down. Spike caught the drops in the bowl and when there was about a teaspoon's worth in the bottom, Giles nodded. "That is sufficient, thank you," he said, and Wesley appeared over Spike's shoulder with a wad of gauze that smelt strongly of witch hazel.
Bowl and gauze shifted around and Spike was left holding the gauze to Xander's arm while Wes and Giles did something with the bowl, tucking it out of sight. "You all right?" Spike asked, and Xander nodded.
"Yeah, I'm good. It didn't really hurt - just kinda stung. What - what was that you said, Giles?" Xander put his own fingers over Spike's and Spike reluctantly let him take control of the gauze. Wishing - with a little twist of heat and tingle down in his gut - that he could put his mouth to Xander's skin and taste...
"Eh? Oh - I said 'given freely'. It's - a bit of a blessing. That spell won't work if you obtain the blood through subterfuge or violence. Now - that's done..."
"And I think it's time we were off home," Wesley said, eyeing the last of the sandwiches on the tray. "We'll need to do some tricky spell-work to set everything up and I, for one, would feel better about it if we were well-rested. Rupert?"
"Hmmm? Oh, yes, yes..." Giles started out of a semi-daze, looking around vaguely and slowly gathering up his jacket, a leather-bound notebook and a few papers from the desk.
Spike reached over and picked up a small cream cake, holding it out to Xander. "Here, better have that. Don't want you getting wobbly after the blood-letting."
Xander took the cake with a roll of his eye. "It's not like they took a bowl-ful or something. I'm fine." He stuffed the cake in his mouth anyway, earning a tsk from Giles and a grin from Wesley.
"Never underestimate the fretting power of the vampire, Xander - like father like son, I'd say."
"Angel is not my sodding father, Percy! Bloody Irish bastard is - was - nothing more than a - a distant relation! On Dru's side, and you know what she was like."
"Yes, actually..." Wesley's face took on a distant expression and Spike stood up fast.
"Right. We've got our own - things. To do. So -" Spike was interrupted by the phone and Giles spoke briefly, his shoulders slumping and his face taking on a hard look.
"Yes. Yes, all right. Yes, please fax that to Miss Merchant... Thank you." Giles rang off and stood there, silent, and Wes finally took the phone out of his hand.
"What is it, Rupert?"
"That was - was an operative in Germany. We've been tracking the demon and - we were sure it was making its way overland from - from India. It was spotted in Berlin..." Giles rubbed his forehead with his fingertips, sighing. "It's managed, somehow, to move more rapidly than we anticipated. And...another Slayer is missing. It's getting - much stronger, much too quickly. We have perhaps a day."
"Oh, fuck," Xander whispered, and Spike felt the demon rise - up and out with a soft growl.
"Then you two better get your kip in and get to work. I've got my own preparations to make. Xander -"
"I'm not staying here," Xander snapped, and Spike reached out rapped his knuckles on Xander's skull.
"I know that, you git. Safest place is with me, yeah? And thank Christ for bloody English weather or I'd be reduced to dodging through the streets in a blanket."
"I think I'd pay to see that," Xander said - shaky laugh and a punch to Spike's shoulder, doing his best to hide the fear that was making his heart trip-hammer behind his bones.
"You don't have the bloody means. Rupert - Percy -" Spike nodded once and then strode out of the office, leaving the Watchers to whatever preparations they had. He had to see a man about a dog. A very magical dog.
"Spike? What did I just step in?"
Spike considered. "Viscera, I'd say. Liver? No - that's spleen there, see -"
"Oh god -" Xander looked around and then lunged for the crumbling edge of the ledge they were traversing.
Spike snatched him backwards by his jacket collar. "What in bloody hell do you think you're doing?"
"Scraping this off, Spike! It keeps squishing."
"Plenty more of that where we're going." Spike smoothed Xander's collar down and then found his hand smoothing Xander's nape - the silky-soft hair just under the curve of his skull and Xander's eye went a little darker, pupil expanding. "There's a nest of Krv around here - they're not keen on calling 'round the bin-men."
"Are they - keen - on attacking harmless passers-by for all their viscera needs?" Xander asked, swaying closer, a gold and earth-brown cobra in the dim amber light.
"Xander, that's a dog spleen."
"You really know how to turn a guy on," Xander murmured and swayed right into Spike, warm mouth pressing tight and warm hand slipping under Spike's coat to splay, heavy and possessive, across the small of Spike's back.
"Always been one of my specialties," Spike murmured back, curling his fingers up through Xander's hair and fisting his other hand in Xander's jacket collar. Keeping him close. A distant rumble became a rushing roar and the wire-strung incandescent bulbs that were hung overhead - one for every fifteen or so feet - trembled and chimed against the old, slimed brickwork. Jubilee line, dragon in the dark and Xander shivered under Spike's fingers and pulled slowly back.
"Probably should - keep moving," he said, a little breathless, and Spike nodded slowly.
"Yeah, probably should. Doesn't do to keep this bloke waiting."
"Yeah." Another moment of stillness and then Spike blinked and really did back off - let his hands slide slowly down and away and Xander let him, grinning.
"I guess this is what you meant by 'demon magnet', huh? Can't keep your hands off me."
"You're an insufferable prat, mate, and don't you forget it," Spike said, and neatly side-stepped a pancreas. "Now that's human."
"Fucking - hell - thanks, love," Spike said, taking the cigarette Xander was offering, smiling at little at the flushed cheeks on the man opposite. At the slip of the tongue that Xander hadn't seemed to mind - or not noticed, maybe. "All right, now?"
Xander coughed again. "Yeah, sure, I'm fine. Catch me volunteering to light one of those tubes of evil, carcinogenic death again!" Xander huffed into his curled fist and made a face.
"Flask in my coat there," Spike said, trying not to bite his cigarette in half. The needles bit deep, coated in a pale mixture of holy water and salt from the Dead Sea. Thin trails of blood were running from the center of Spike's biceps and the middle of his back, right between his shoulder blades. Ticklish and chilly in the damp air but Spike didn't move except to puff smoke slowly in and out. Xander dug out his flask and took a tiny sip - made a face and took another.
"Smoke tastes a lot better second hand," Xander said, and Spike grinned at him.
Doormun - who wasn't a mage, exactly, and wasn't a witch, exactly, or even exactly human - dipped the needles into the little cup of solution and leaned in, tattoo machine whining like a dentist's drill as he slowly drew the complicated veve over Spike's sternum. Last one, thank Christ, because the hard burn and buzzing sting and tickling, trickling blood were all about to drive Spike over the edge. But he sat carefully still instead and smoked and watched Xander flinch for him.
He'd told Xander the marks were for protection. To keep the demon off him, to keep the Watcher's spells from doing what they weren't supposed to do. Specific to being a vampire and not for him and Xander had just nodded and watched with a wide eye. Sucked in air and shifted uncomfortably when Spike's skin had blistered under the drops of holy water and sent up thin tendrils of white smoke.
"Not so bad," Spike said, and Xander shook his head.
"It looks fucking - horrible. Your skin -" Xander took a last, tiny sip of whisky and tucked Spike's flask away again.
"Be all healed after my next meal, yeah? No worries." Doormun hissed a little between his teeth, shooting Spike a hard glance and Spike stopped talking, willing himself back to that null place he'd spent so much time in after losing his hands. After Glory and after his spine had been crushed and after he'd been half-flayed that time in Amsterdam. Except the null place was a little harder to achieve with Xander right there, soft scent of leather and salt and lust, his hands curling and twitching because he wanted to reach out and touch, and he couldn't. Spike found himself watching those hands, instead. Imagining those hands, and that was pretty much as far from null as you could get.
"Yah, is all done, then," Doormun muttered, sitting back, and Spike blinked and reached up to carefully take the mostly-ashed cigarette from his mouth. He looked down at his chest, grimacing a little, and then twitched back as Doormun slapped a soaking-wet towel over the veve.
"Jesus Christ! That's bloody cold!"
"Vill feel better. Vater from the fjords, salt from Lot's vife, vhite sage, cocaine. Vill make the blut stop."
"Could've given me some warning," Spike muttered. Doormun cleaned away the blood from all four marks and then stood up, cracking his back and his neck and his fingers, looking like a gnome made of gnarled twigs and dried sinew, his skin rough and dark. "Anything I need to know?"
"Vill hurt, when they vorking. You vill know. No hot tubs or sunlight. Huurn."
"Ha, very funny. What'd you think, Xander? Still got my looks, then?" Spike stood up as well and let Xander turn him left and right - step around him to examine his back.
"I dunno. I'm not sure about a guy with tattoos, man. It's kinda - hard core." Xander was grinning but he reached out and lightly touched the red skin over Spike's heart. "Does it still hurt?"
"Burns a bit, is all. I've had worse. Doormun, as always - top drawer."
"Al-vays a pleasure, Herr Spike. Take my card - take two! You may haf a friend -?"
"This one's 'bout it,' Spike said, taking the cards and tipping a nod toward Xander - finding his shirt and pulling it on with a wince. Xander gathered up his coat and handed it across and Spike pulled out another cigarette. "Right, then - off we go. Doormun."
"Herr Spike," Doormun said, little click of his heels and a bow - bow toward Xander who nodded back. They were silent for the twenty minutes or so it took to climb back up to street level. They stood in the shadow of a doorway for a moment, Spike finishing a third smoke and Xander scraping the soles of his boots on the edge of a concrete step.
"Well - that was fun. Who knew there were ents living under London?"
"He's not a bloody ent."
"Kind of looked like one. Like the hickory one, maybe. Or oak."
"He was a bit - rough," Spike said. The sun was nowhere in a nowhere-grey sky, mist sifting down fine as flour over them and the streets shining like glass, streaked with neon and the blue-white of halogen headlights. "Could go for a pint - round of billiards, maybe, something -"
"To pass the time?" Xander stopped scraping his boot and looked over at Spike. "I think if this demon's gonna be in town in twenty-four hours I'd like to spend my last -"
"Not your last -"
"My last hours as...as this Xander doing something...else."
"Yeah?" Spike tilted his head a little, giving Xander his best 'come let me ravish you' once-over, and Xander blushed hard.
"Fuck yeah."
"Talked me into it, then," Spike said, and Xander looked...relieved, which wasn't right.
Later, in the warm murk of Xander's living room - in the cocoon of scent and sweat and blankets - Spike lifted his head from Xander's throat and looked down at him, knowing his eyes were glittering demon-gold.
"You're not going to die, you know."
"Feels like I might. Feels like - like I'm going to be turned off like a switch." Xander's fingers rubbed slowly along Spike's spine and he shifted a little, one leg tangled with Spike's, the other hooked across his thighs. His own eye was dark and wide and a little wet, long lashes like cobwebs.
"I promise you'll remember. S'why I didn't want... Well, why this is a bloody bad idea, yeah?"
"Yeah, worst fucking idea of my life," Xander said softly. "I'm sorry I was...sorry for being a jerk all the time."
"Don't be bloody daft," Spike growled, and Xander laughed.
"Trying, man. I'm..." Xander took in a sharp, shaking breath and Spike worked his hands a little further beneath Xander's back, pulling him closer and dropping a short kiss onto Xander's mouth.
"I know, love. You are, and I am. It's all right."
"Yeah. Yeah, okay," Xander whispered, and Spike closed his eyes and leaned in.
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