The Advent of Spander

Snowflakes and Yule


The snow came down lazily, the flakes dancing a little on their way to the ground. It was the lull before the blizzard the news had been promising-the skies were gravid with the coming whiteout. Xander caught a snowflake on one gloved finger and examined it before it melted.

“What if they really can be identical? And the numbers are so big we just haven’t found it?” he mused.

“Then what difference does it make?” Spike asked in reply. “Those kinds of numbers make lottery winning look easy.”

“Yeah. Could be nature recycles patterns every thousand years or so. We’d never know.” Xander caught another snowflake.

Spike sat beside him on the garden bench, conceding only a muffler to the cold. Xander felt like Linus in his snowsuit, hat gloves, muffler and boots. He could barely feel Spike’s arm go around him.

“What’s on your mind, then, Pet?”

Nice that they were past the verbal evasion; Spike read him so well these days it was like taking shortcuts when they talked.

“I’ve been thinking about Tara. It’s Yule, y’know? It was her favorite holiday.”

Spike nodded. “I liked Glinda. Shame that.”

“That she died, yeah. No offence and don’t get me wrong, I’m glad you came back, but the really good ones don’t.  Joyce and Tara….”

“The Cheerleader, yeah. The Poof’s seer. I know. But maybe it’s ‘cause where they are now is so nice—t’would be cruel to bring them back.’

“Like Buffy.”

“Yeah. They’re rewarded. Us bad’uns, we gotta come back to suffer.”

“That’s very Buddhist of you.”

“Oh like you’d know Buddhist. Anyway, what else? That accounts for the wistfulness, but you’ve been grinding the gears over sommat else. Smoke’s getting’ to me.”

“Har de har.” Xander caught another snowflake as he gathered his thoughts. “Well, I got to thinking about death—life and death—and I don’t think you’re dead.”

Spike was still a second. “Eh… what?”

“I don’t think you’re dead. I don’t think vampires are dead.”

“No heartbeat, no breathing….”

“You breathe plenty when I get you going, but my point is, why does that mean dead? Why can’t it just be different?”


“Yeah, you know, like a butterfly is different from a caterpillar.”

Spike sputtered. “Not a bleedin’ butterfly!”

“Moth then, same thing. Maybe you start human, get bit, ‘cocoon’ for a couple of days and come out a vamp. Different but still alive.” Xander turned to face Spike, almost laughing at the dumbfounded look on his lover’s face.

“I’m dead, Love.” Spike ventured a question. “This isn’t some attempt to get around the necrophilia bit, is it?”

Xander wrinkled his face. “Ugh. No, because you’re not dead, dead. See, dead people don’t say or do anything. A person could do anything they wanted to the dead and the dead can’t respond. I figure that’s part of what necrophiliacs get off on, the power and lack of response. But vamps—Spike, you’re more alive than some humans I know and you definitely have opinions and reactions to what people want to do. I don’t think you’re dead ‘cause you never just lay there.”

“Lie there, Pet. English has rules,” Spike said absently, thinking.

“Pffft.” Xander waved grammar away. “Think about it. Who said vampires are dead? They’re matching a paradigm of deadness, sure, but what if the paradigm is wrong? And in so many ways they don’t match the paradigm. They don’t fit the box of deadness and I don’t think there’s a big enough hammer to make them. Ergo….”


“Ergo, you’re alive, just differently alive than humans.”

“Help us if you ever take a rhetoric course.” Spike sat in thought while Xander examined another snowflake. It was nice to be out in the daytime with Spike. There was still enough light to see fairly clearly and no vamp flambé. But the flakes were coming faster, harder, and he was getting cold.

“So,” Xander asked, “Want to go celebrate life?”

Spike snapped out of contemplation and leered at Xander. “Ever done it in the snow?”

Xander laughed, “Not when I have a bed with not only an electric blanket but also an electric mattress pad—which I turned on before I came out here.”

“Planning! My boy was a scout, yeah?” Spike pulled him up off the bench, then tossed him over one shoulder and carried him back to the house. Xander just sighed. A playful Spike was a fun Spike except for the humiliation of being carried under the knowing eyes of slayers, watchers and witches.

Once in their room, Spike slowed down and started unwrapping Xander. “My prezzie,” he murmured, stopping to give his lover a kiss. “I love unwrapping prezzies.”

Xander leaned forward to snatch his own kiss and let Spike strip him. When the snowsuit was off he held up his hand. “Okay, planning boy has a suggestion. Let me take care of you, then you can be in the bed getting warm while I finish. That way I won’t have thermal shock when you put your hands on me.”

Spike nodded and stepped away. Xander took his time; unwrapping the muffler, sliding off the coat, removing the docs. Still on his knees, he lifted the black tee and nuzzled the pale flesh of Spike’s belly. The skin was cold but warmed quickly under Xander’s mouth. He worked the belt buckle and unbuttoned the fly on Spike’s black jeans. The long pale column of Spike’s cock immediately popped out of the pants. Xander lavished it with kisses, licks and nibbles before taking it deep in his mouth. Spike’s hips swayed forward and his hand threaded into Xander’s hair.

Xander released the pretty cock with a lick and stood up, taking the tee-shirt off as he rose. Spike’s nipples were peaked with the chill and Xander had to worship them a bit, too, before he skinned the jeans down Spike’s legs and off.

“Into bed now,” Xander grinned at his naked lover. ” Get warm and I’ll be right there.” He quickly took care of biology, then came back, shucked his clothes and dove into the bed. He was right; Spike was as toasty warm as the bed. He pulled his lover into his arms and just held him for a minute.

“Xander?” Spike murmured after a moment.

“Just,” Xander sighed into Spike’s stiff hair. “I love you.”

“Ah, Pet, I love you too.” Spike hugged him hard. “Now how about you warm up my insides as well as you have my out?”


Xander began with a kiss that was as sweet as it was dirty. When he broke it to slide his tongue down Spike’s throat, Spike gasped, “God but you’re good at this.”

Xander hummed as he made his way down Spike’s body and his lover shivered. What had started as play morphed into tenderness. This was not the time to leave bruises or laugh or indulge in more esoteric practices. This was love, and sweet, deep feeling was the order of the day. Instead of biting the soft skin at the join of hip and thigh, he kissed it. Instead of letting his teeth graze Spike’s balls, he sucked them, one at a time, into his mouth and swirled over them with his tongue. Instead of rough dry fingers probing the tiny anus, fingers slick with spit circled and enticed until Spike groaned and lifted his hips demandingly.

Xander took Spike’s cock deeply into his mouth, swallowing around it as he sucked. At the same time, he slipped his fingers into Spike, searching carefully for the prostate.

Spike was panting. “Yeah, yeah, do it doit!”

Xander wished he was bendy enough to fuck Spike and suck him at the same time. But alas… He regretfully let go of the rigid red cock. Xander slid his hands under Spike’s knees and rolled him up. “Hold these,” he said into Spike’s smiling face.

The blue eyes twinkled. “Don’t I get a turn?” Spike asked as he clutched his knees.

“Next time,” Xander promised. He dove back down to tongue at the prominently displayed hole. Licking, sucking, wetting; moving up to mouth the perineum and the backs of Spike’s balls, then back down to poke his tongue into Spike’s ass as far as he could reach. Tight muscles clutched at him, loosened, then clutched again.

When he thought Spike was wet enough, he laved his palm and used it to wet his own cock. Then he lined up and watched his cock touch, breech, and enter Spike’s body. He watched it slowly move until it disappeared entirely, then he looked up at Spike.

He was entranced by the love in Spike’s now yellow eyes. “So beautiful.”

He got a fanged smile. “Look better when I’m comin’.”

Xander leaned forward to catch Spike’s legs over his shoulders and put his hands down on either side of his lover’s head. “I want to see that. I’m going to see that.” He pulled out and then sank slowly back in. Long and slow and deep, he took his time fucking Spike, making sure to be thorough, making sure to drive his love mindless with need. Some long time later, Spike was clutching Xander’s arms, his head tossing restlessly on the pillow.

“Pet, Love, Xander, please, faster now, please.” Spike begging, very pretty. Xander thrust a little harder, a little deeper, a little faster. “Yeah, like that but faster. Oh Love, please make it faster.”

Xander gradually sped up until he was pounding into Spike’s ass, his hips pistoning, the slap of skin on skin sharp and loud in the room. Spike reached down and grabbed his cock, his hand blurring as he stroked it. Xander watched that, watched his face, looked down to see his own cock appearing and disappearing, looking red and purple and angry and wet. He looked back at Spike’s face and saw the desperate lust and the encompassing love, and felt the tightening in his gut that heralded orgasm. “C’mon, come for me. Let me see it.”

“Oh, fuck but-“ Spike tipped back his head, tensed so hard the veins rose in his neck and arms, then roared as he came, fluid coursing out of his cock and splattering his chest.

“Yes!” And Xander’s body erupted into and through his cock, filling Spike with his hot, hot spunk.

Xander collapsed onto Spike, and was cradled in strong arms and legs. “Like a Viking, seriously.” Spike shuffled. His face slipped back into human.

“More where that came from,” Xander murmured into Spike’s neck.

“Ha, you’re out for the count. Can’t think of a better way to celebrate a snowstorm.”

“Or life.” Xander sighed.



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