Suki Blue Fiction

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Chapter 18

 

This was bad. Really bad. Completely and totally bad. Things were going from bad to worse to totally sucky.

As if it hadn’t been bad enough that the comic book store had been closed due to staff sickness, now the damn cable was out.

This had to happen on a Saturday why, exactly?

And his stupid, dumb-ass father had to insist that he stayed in why, exactly?

It was Saturday, a day that every self-respecting teenager spent firstly reading comics, then watching the TV and then going out to meet friends. And since the first two options were out…

“But why?” Xander whined. Quietly.

His mother was busy exploring the kitchen like it was the first time she’d ever seen it. Currently, she had her nose stuck into a cupboard that Xander was pretty sure had only ever been opened by the guys that fitted it back in the year 1807.

“Because,” his mother replied.

“Okay, I’d just like to announce that I don’t buy the standard ‘because’ reasoning. It didn’t even make sense when I was a kid and I wanted to paddle with the penguins.”

“Honey, you would have drowned,” his mother replied distractedly.

“I don’t care!” Xander yelled. “I wanted to paddle with…! Okay, we’re getting off the point, here. I want to go out and I don’t see why I can’t.”

“You just can’t, Alexander. Now leave it be.”

“But why?!”

“Because.”

“No! Why do you torture me so? What did I do to you? I’ve been a good son. I pick my socks up once a week and, you know, I even cleaned the toilet once. Admittedly, that was because I got peanut butter all over it, but that was Willow’s fault and I still did it.”

Jessica Harris sighed and closed the cupboard door. “Xander, your father wants us to have a nice family day. Just the three of us.”

“But it’s boring and all Dad wants to do is…”

Tony Harris poked his head around the door and interrupted. “Hey, you two slowpokes, you ready? Where are those drinks? I’ve got all the albums ready and waiting.” He grinned and his head disappeared.

Xander groaned.

“Just sit with us and look at the photos, honey. I’ll see what I can do afterwards.” Jessica opened the fridge and pulled out four bottles of beer and two Cokes.

Xander eyed the alcohol. “Mom, it’s one in the afternoon,” he said.

His mother went completely rigid. “What are you trying to say?!” she snapped.

“Nothing,” Xander quickly defended. “Just…that it’s early and…nothing.” He looked down at his shoes and waited for his mother to dump a half-eaten packet of cookies onto the tray. “Sorry. Um, you promise you’ll try to spring me later?”

Jessica’s stern expression softened and she motioned for Xander to take the tray. “I promise to try.”

**

“Oh, god, I thought I was never going to get out of there.”

“House arrest, huh?” Buffy asked. She waved Xander over to join her on the gym mat. “What did you do?”

“Nothing.”

“Nothing? Are you sure? Are you lying?”

Xander put on a stricken expression. “Buff, I’m wounded that you would think such a thing. Have I ever lied to you?”

“How about the time you told me James Spader was in the cafeteria?”

“Okay, apart from that, have I ever lied to you?”

Buffy narrowed her eyes and looked sceptically at her friend. “Not that I know of,” she said. “Now attack me.”

Xander attacked and ended up on his back. “Ow. I swear, Buff, ever since my dad got this promotion at work, he’s been all…dad-like. It’s really annoying.”

Buffy held out her hand and pulled him up. “Know what you just did wrong?” she asked. “And maybe your dad just wants to share his joy.”

Xander checked that his butt was still the same shape. “Well, I just wish he’d share it with someone else. It’s freaky. And what I did wrong was to attack a Slayer in the first place.”

“I saw you coming, Xander. That’s what you did wrong.”

“Of course you saw me! You have eyes!”

Buffy smiled and, not for the first time, Xander could see exactly why the entire school probably lusted after her. There was a genuine beauty there and again Xander wished he could feel something for her other than friendship. Even if it did mean he’d one day be shot down, liking Buffy in that way meant that he wouldn’t feel the other things.

Or maybe he would.

Perhaps he should be grateful. Hey, he was lucky he was only having feelings for other men. Imagine if he felt things for both sexes. How confusing would that be?!

“You ran into me like a dog runs for its dinner bowl,” Buffy said. “All I had to do was remove the bowl and you were flat on your ass.”

“Did you just insult me?” Xander asked.

“Uh, kinda,” Buffy admitted with a guilty expression. “The point is, do something surprising. Throw me off balance. And cut your dad some slack. Enjoy the new improved version while it lasts.”

Xander sighed and rubbed his forehead as though he had some kind of huge headache coming. “I guess. Freaky-dad is definitely better than grumpy-dad.” And it was better, Xander had to admit. He no longer felt like he had to assess the situation before he opened his mouth, no longer had to tread on egg shells. Oh, his father was still drinking and, if possible, was actually drinking more but he wasn’t distant, wasn’t…angry.

Xander sighed again and charged Buffy for the second time. She caught him easily and the two of them went down, Xander pulling Buffy on top of him and crying out when her elbow connected with his stomach.

“Oh, god, Xander! I’m so-” Buffy finished her sentence from the other side of the gym mat. “...sorry.”

Proud of his impromptu surprise attack and pleased that he had the strength to throw Buffy that far and not just make her wobble like a Weeble, Xander stood and grinned. “That’s okay. It didn’t really hurt.”

Buffy pushed herself up onto her elbows. “Okay, officially label me surprised.”

“Are you alright?” Xander asked, still perversely pleased at his achievement but worried nonetheless. He moved to help her up.

She looked up at him, an unsure expression on her face. “I’m… Xander, that was really…cool!” Her smile broke out again and she reached up to take Xander’s hand. “You’re getting so good at this!”

Xander shook his head. “Nah, I’m not good. I just lured you into a false sense of security. I bluffed the Buff!”

The squeak of loafers on the shiny gym surface alerted Buffy and Xander to Giles’ presence. “Ah, good, there you are. Finished beating each other up?”

“Actually, I was just getting started,” Xander beamed.

Giles looked to Buffy. “I landed on my butt,” she said in a tone that was, strangely, also very proud.

“Oh, good. Excellent news. Now come with me, please.”

“Uh, Giles?” Buffy called as Giles turned and walked back out. “I’m not sure how to take that!” When she got no answer she jogged to catch him up, Xander doing the same.

When they arrived at the library, Willow was at the table, a platter of books set out before her.

“Ah, hello, fellow fighter,” Xander said. “Quick, knock Buffy on her butt while you can. She’s not on top form today.”

Buffy sat opposite Willow and picked up a bottle of water from the table. “Don’t worry, Wills. He beat me once. And knowing him, he’ll try that move a dozen more times before he realises that I caught on the first time. His butt is going to get buttered real good. And that sounded very wrong and I’m seriously thinking about being quiet for a while. Thoughts? Anyone?”

A very sad-faced Willow looked back down at her books.

“What’s going on?” Xander asked. He pulled out a chair next to Willow and turned it around, sitting on it backwards. “Wills?”

When Willow looked up at him she had tears in her eyes. “Billy Pattison and Trisha Carpenter were killed last night.”

It took a moment for the names to click. Both were in Xander’s American History class. He hadn’t known them very well, but they had seemed okay. The only thing Xander knew about them was that the two had been dating since forever. Wherever he saw one of them – library, water fountain, The Bronze – he saw the other. Childhood sweethearts.

“I didn’t really know them,” Buffy admitted.

Xander shook his head. “I don’t think any of us did,” Xander said.

Willow straightened and sniffled. “I did. Second grade. I hung out with them for a whole month.”

“I don’t remember that,” Xander said. “Where was I?” He strained to remember a time that he and Willow hadn’t been together. It wasn’t coming to him.

Willow looked at him affectionately. “You weren’t there, silly. It was that time you were in hospital.”

“You were in hospital for a month?” Buffy asked. “What d’ya have? Hookie-itis?”

Xander laughed deliberately loudly and falsely. “Very funny.”

“He got hit by a car,” Willow said. She looked at him seriously, her gaze giving Xander the urge to squirm. “It was really bad. He broke both legs.”

“Yep, the doctors said I would never ever play the piano,” Xander said. “And they were right.”

“Seriously?!” Buffy asked.

Giles rolled his eyes and leaned on the table with both hands. “Could we get back on track, please?”

Guilty looks all around, and Xander felt himself relax. That accident didn’t exactly fill him with warm fuzzies. The pain and agony of two broken legs, a fractured collarbone and the most evil of all concussions was bad enough, but over the years, as he’d grown older and become less innocent and more jaded, he’d started to hate his mother just a little bit for the whole thing.

How much effort would it have taken to hold his hand instead of letting him run off by himself like he always did?

“There have been some witness reports,” Giles continued.

“Let me guess,” Buffy said. “Guys with ugly faces?”

“And robes,” Giles said.

“Okay.” Xander sat up a little, reaching out to snag one of the bottles of water. He untwisted the cap and said, “Didn’t we close that case a while back?” Taking a large gulp of water, he looked to Buffy for confirmation.

“Looks like someone just reopened it for us.” Buffy sighed and put her elbows on the table. “These vampires are repeating on me.”

“I guess it was too good to be true,” Giles said.

Of course, Giles was referring to the nest of robed vampires that had mysteriously turned into many little piles of dust.

It took Xander great effort not to grin at the memory. Spike at his best and baddest, his fists flying and his leather coat twirling. His blue eyes flashing gold with rage, his fangs extending and his body coiling and springing, flexing and dancing. It had been beautiful, and again Xander had to wonder how and why Spike was so different from other vampires. He killed mercilessly, with pleasure and glee, but Spike hadn’t killed him. Hadn’t even come close to trying.

If Spike wanted, he only had to take. But he didn’t.

Giles walked around the table, deep in thought. He got half way around it and then walked back. “We really don’t have much to go on,” he said.

“Except for the virgin thing,” Willow pointed out.

“Oh yeah, run away, virgins among us,” Buffy said. “And that would be everyone except you, Giles. Hopefully.”

Xander was tempted to deny his status as a virgin, but the whole incident with Ms French had messed up any real chance to argue that point. “So we think Trisha and Billy were taken because they were virgins?” he asked.

“The reports certainly seem to indicate a ritual killing, yes,” Giles said.

“But how do they know when someone is a, you know?” Buffy asked.

“They can smell it,” Xander said, immediately wishing he hadn’t when both girls looked disgustedly at him. “Hey, don’t eye-ball me. Just passing on the facts.”

“Xander’s right,” Giles said. “All vampires have a very acute sense of smell. Virginity, sexual arousal: they’re very much attuned to them.”

Buffy looked horrified and Xander couldn’t say he blamed her. The day he’d found out that little titbit he’d been completely mortified. And that was a main reason for not wanting to hang out with Angel. Getting an unexpected woody was bad at the best of times, but it was a double freak-out when the guy next to you could smell it, too.

“Oh, my god,” Buffy said. “I’m definitely having a I Should Have Known That moment.”

“Yes, quite.” Giles stood again, seemingly unable to rest in one place. He paced into his office and out again. “From now on, none of you are to walk anywhere alone at night. I’ll contact Angel and arrange for him to act as an escort.”

Xander groaned silently to himself. Living on a Hellmouth? Oh, didn’t he just know it.

**

“Hey, there.”

Spike didn’t bother to turn around. He leaned over the porch and blew smoke into the night air.

“Haven’t seen you around here,” the voice persisted. “Where’d you come from?”

He knew who she was: a petite, brown haired, brown eyed woman dressed in a scarlet dress and claret coloured shoes that didn’t quite go together. She’d been eyeing him from the moment he’d walked in.

A house party in the suburbs. Lots of young people slowly getting ratted and slowly getting easier to pick off. This one hadn’t even required separating from her flock. She had come to him.

What was it about ‘burb people? Didn’t they know the danger from a stranger?

“Not talking tonight?” she asked.

Spike felt her hand against his back. He flicked his cigarette down into the garden and finally turned around.

She was pretty: milky white skin and full lips. Her dress was tight, low cut, and even its designer brand couldn’t hide the fact that this dress was worn only by those who wanted to get fucked.

“What’s your name?” she asked, moving closer and becoming bolder now that Spike was beginning to smile, beginning to show interest. She ran her hand down his t-shirt-covered chest, her finger skimming his belt and dropping lower.

He held her close then, kissing her neck and groaning when she squeezed his cock. “Does it matter?” he asked, quickly moving away, pulling her after him, around the side of the house, to the shadows - to the place where she would die.

“Hell, no,” she replied. Her eyes were glazed, not quite seeing, not quite able to focus. Her lights definitely weren’t all on, and that was just fine with Spike.

He unzipped his jeans and pulled himself out, stroking a few times just because he couldn’t resist. “Well? Don’t just look, luv. Get on your knees and suck it.”

She did. Clumsy and awkward, she latched onto Spike’s arm and lowered herself. She flicked her long hair over her shoulders and sucked him in.

One look at her red lips sliding over him and Spike had to close his eyes. She wasn’t Drusilla, not by a long shot. Her lips weren’t red enough, her hair wasn’t soft enough and her body wasn’t dead enough.

And she wasn’t Xander, either. His cock twitched and he began thrusting into the slut’s mouth. Xander had never sucked him, but he knew it wouldn’t be like this. It would be slower, shyer, wetter and so much more satisfying. They’d both want it to last, want to savour it. And when Xander was finished sucking, Spike would pull him up and kiss him hard, fast and deep, grab his virgin cock and fist it until Xander screamed and came.

Three more hard thrusts and Spike came in her mouth. He held her in place by her hair and shuddered against her. “Fuck. Xan.” He let go and braced himself with one hand against the wall.

“What?” she asked, wiping her mouth and clambering to her feet.

Spike shook his head. “Nothing.”

“So was that good? Do I deserve a turn?” she asked, plastering herself to him again.

His hand slipped between her legs and slowly pushed up her dress. His fingers slid inside her panties and he leaned closer and whispered, “Enjoy this.”

She was wet and slippery and Spike felt himself growing hard again as she moved and moaned to the beat of his fingers.

“God, yes. Do me, please. Do me.”

Always a gentleman, Spike was happy to oblige. He pushed her into the wall, ripped her panties away and slid himself in.

Thirty heartbeats inside, one outside and Spike was eager to get on. He thrust into her hard and fast, lifting her legs to get in deeper.

Tomorrow night, after this mediocre-but-hard fuck, a hearty meal of thirty one and a good day’s sleep, he would be on his way. By his own choice, it would probably be a while before he fucked and fed again.

He didn’t want to be alone.

In Sunnydale he wouldn’t be. He would have a friend.

He hoped.

Spike did his prey the courtesy of allowing her to climax first. Then he filled her with fangs and come and set about preparing the rest of his evening meal.

TBC…