Bliss Took Hold 1
by Danielle


Spike rummaged through the trash heap, thankful that he didn’t need to breathe the stench that wafted through the Sunnydale City Dump. His crypt had been ransacked ~again~ and he’d stopped by to pick up a few basics. The vampire scowled at the discarded TV stand he’d liberated and contemplated how far he had sunk since his days as a true Master. Only a year before, he’d had the world at his feet, and now here he was -- rooting through garbage. 


The blonde knew he was in serious danger of brooding, and the Poof he was not, so he tried to think of lighter things. Like the look on the Slayer’s face when that demon had appeared behind her in this very dump only an hour ago. He’d egged it on, hoping that whatever it was would kick her bony ass. Spike stayed around to gloat until he got caught in the crossfire. So he’d laid low until the Scoobies fled and continued his search for replacement tables for his crypt. Come to think of it, that wasn’t such a good train of thought to pursue.  At the reminder that he-- William the Bloody-- wasn’t even considered a threat to them anymore, the TV stand went sailing into a stack of auto parts with a satisfying clang.


Spike regarded the flask he’d liberated from his leather coat then took a long pull of cheap brandy. As he replaced the cap, he caught sight of something shiny in the rubble beneath him. Bending to free the sparkling bits as he tucked his flask away, he saw that it was jewelry of some sort. // I could hock it if it’s decent…// he thought as he lifted the delicate strand of beads. Rot. It was worthless--only a rosary, and a broken one at that. Spike’s head tilted as he contemplated it. Angelus had adored rosaries. When Spike *William* had first been turned, Darla, Angelus, and Dru dragged him from one convent to another, feasting on the clergy and collecting the rosaries as trophies. He never understood Angelus’ thing for convents. The soft little women shaking in their habits made for too tame a prey and no challenge at all.  Even the wispy collared men were all too much like William had been in life: quivering and whimpering in the face of adversity.  It might have been the screams... he had to admit that coaxing a quiet little repressed thing into a shrieking and writhing mess while you drank your fill was something of a high. 


“Well, it didn’t help, did it, Angelus? You left me; Dru left me -- Hell! Even Harm left me!” He got a certain amount of satisfaction from venting like this, to nobody.


His apathy towards churches aside, Spike admitted that he longed to have a family again. Even when he and Dru had been on their own, they had minions and hell-mouth beasts on their side. For now, Spike had no one.


Spike reminisced, entwining the strands in his long nimble fingers and letting loose beads fall off the end.  Dru had used them as restraints a few times.  Every once in a while a cross would fall onto flesh, burning skin. Spike winced at the memory, pleasure lanced with pain. He missed her more and more these days--how easy it was to make her mewl and smile, the way she danced when she had a vision she liked.


“Her dark eyes became an earthquake to me; shattering my world and pulling me into the cracked, frigid depths.  Waxing poetic--bloody ponce!” Spike shook his head and continued rambling. “It’s only loneliness making me want to crawl to her, beg her to let me belong again.” He kicked a broken box fan over as he ranted to himself.


“Not a man, not a monster, reduced to a chip in dead flesh, depending on *humans* who loathe me for survival!” Tears stung his eyes.


“Bloody humans. Can’t live with them, can’t eat them…can’t sodding avoid them.  No safe place to grab a nip of blood or a beer because the local demons hate me for helping the Slayer!”  And now he *was* brooding.  The vampire heaved a frustrated sigh--


--And got a lungful of putrid dump stench. “Ah, bugger!” His thoughts scattered at the assault and he dropped the beads. Making a mental note not to breathe until he’d showered, Spike gave up on getting anything for the crypt and stomped toward the exit of the dump. As he rounded the next mound of junk, the body of a certain drowsy Scooby sent Spike arse-over-teakettle.


Spike pushed himself up roughly, grousing and scowling, and glared at the whelp. Could things get any worse? 


“What the hell are you doing here, Harris?” Spike demanded, hauling the blinking human to his unsteady feet.


“Guh-huh?” Xander answered eloquently as he struggled to stay upright. The vampire had no patience for this.


“What? Blighters go off an’ leave you, then? I blame the wardrobe.” Spike regarded the fluorescent yellow pullover and hideous orange Hawaiian shirt with raised eyebrows. Xander groaned and started to double over. Spike sighed dramatically, instantly regretting it for the smell, and reached out to catch the boy by his arm.


The two started ambling towards the entrance of the dump, Spike supporting Xander’s weight easily.


“I could leave you here to become tonight’s vampire buffet, but--” Spike’s face lit up and he slowed down.

“Come to think of it, I could, couldn’t I?” the vamp teased, but the stark terror he saw in Xander’s eyes took the joy out of it for him.


When he spoke, the Xander-babble was breathy, but no less frantic.  “I--I don’t think I’m capable of walking, much less fighting off anything. And it’s not like evil is gonna see me hobbling home and just leave me alone…Remember me? Demon magnet? Besides, Buffy’d stake you if anything happened to me. They’d choose tonight to leave me out here at night and it’s not like I didn’t just take a...a... whatever it was in the gut for Buffy or anything. But no, forget the ‘Thanks, Xan-Man!’ I get left in the garbage and, wait... Where are you going?”


They were out of the dump by now, and Spike eased Xander against the fence, but the whelp didn’t let go of his duster, and Spike was pulled with him. They ended up with Xander’s back to the creaky boards with Spike’s torso pressed to his and his arm wrapped around the vamp in a death grip. Smirk playing on his lips, Spike thought he knew how to rattle this one’s cage. He ground his hips against the boy’s, savoring the human’s gasp and shutter.


“Love to cuddle, pet, but *dump smell* isn’t exactly an aphrodisiac. How ‘bout a shower first?”  Spike’s voice was honey and ash, pouring seduction into every word. Eye to eye, the disgust he was expecting never happened.  Xander’s wide, clear eyes showed a vulnerability Spike had never seen before. In the brown depths, Spike was surprised to see the heat of desire. As though the thoughts summoned them, a flare of arousal from the boy hit his vampire senses. The brunette’s hard length pressed against his responding groin and both men began to breathe heavily.


As the vampire’s plan to wig the boy sputtered to a halt, Xander nodded.  Spike squinted and tilted his head at that answer, trying to remember what the question had been. This was the last thing he expected from the whelp. His own reaction was disturbing him, and the human’s heat was addicting. The quickening heartbeat in the boy’s chest echoed in Spike’s ears as he concentrated on the human’s half-open, inviting lips.  


“What are we playin’ at here, boy?” Spike suspiciously asked, still unable to break away.


Xander spoke breathlessly as he matched Spikes rhythm with his hips.  “I don’t know how I missed this. I mean Willow is always saying how I have gifts even though I’m not a Slayer or a witch or a werewolf…that I see people, you know, how they are, like I knew Angel was bad news before he lost his soul. Or that Anya deserved a chance even though she used to be a demon. Sure, I was wrong about Faith having good in her, but then who doesn’t get a little delusional when it comes to their first--“


“Is there a point, or are you just going to bore me to death?” Spike’s gaze kept lingering on the point where the human’s mouth dipped up in the middle as he said this.   A joke’s a joke, but they couldn’t continue this little dry hump session until he was clear on why and how. At least that’s what his mind said. His groin didn’t seem to be listening as he closed his eyes and he rubbed his cheek against the brunette’s own. His lips moved to brush the soft skin on the human’s neck as Xander haltingly explained.


“I see you. Before, there was this voice blaring in my head screaming ‘EVIL CRAZY VAMPIRE’ every time you came around.  But I don’t hear it anymore and so many times I wanted to grab you and kiss you, like when the Initiative put that tracking device in your back and we had to get it out. You had your shirt off and--uh, never mind. The point is that I like you…more than like--does this make any sense to you?”


Spike planted his hands on the boards to either side of the human’s head and pushed himself off of the fence, successfully disengaging from the boy’s grasp. He thoughtfully turned and angrily fished in his coat pockets as he regarded the boy. After a moment, the vampire spoke.  “So let me get this straight. You despise me all this time, and now you wanna shag? Are you incredibly drunk?” 


Xander stumbled to him, wrapping arms around him and pulled him back to lean on the fence. The vampire felt the boy’s hands move to his hips and start to pull.   “Look, I don’t understand it any better than you do. All I know is that I’ve been Denial-Guy, and I can’t hide it anymore--and I have to fix that. Starting now.” 


 He should have been pushing the boy away, but Xander was looking at him so intensely, and grinding into him again.


“Well, I meant what I said about the showers, mate. Not that I think you’ll follow through on this ‘I see you’ bollocks…” Spike felt himself give just a little. The walls he’d put up since Angelus and Dru creaked a bit, and he was left feeling confused and raw, but he wanted to give this a chance.


“Sorry, I just...grabbed you. I thought you were gonna let me be drained or shot at by more demons. You’re not going to leave me here, are you?” The human’s babble was calming, but the fear was back in his eyes.


Spike was losing himself on the friction they were finding, but concern made him return to reality.  “No, like you said-- the Slayer’d have my head if I let the beasties have their way with you.” Great. As if the inexplicable urge to comfort the boy wasn’t enough, now he was getting a mental image of having his way with the human.  But the pheromones the boy was exuding were driving him to distraction.


Nobody had looked at him with that much trust, or that much *want* since-- well not since Dru. Harm didn’t count. This was Xander. The Xander Harris he knew loathed his very existence. The boy wasn’t much, but usually he had fire and fight to him. This one was soft, pliable, sexy…. He backed away then, the picture of nonchalance as he produced a cigarette and put it to his lips. He had to calm down and figure out what was bothering him about this. He had to focus on what was wrong here. //What the hell was going on?//







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