Spike’s Holiday Hunt 4

CAUGHT FOR CHRISTMAS
by EntreNous

 

Spike curled his lips into a menacing sneer. The hunt was going exactly as planned.

Well, not that he’d planned it this way, really, but it looked planned, and that was the important thing.

At Willow’s party, he’d briefly been carried away by the prospect of an actual hunt complete with attendant stalking, domineering, and at least some gesture at slaughtering. He’d no intentions of actually hurting Xander, mind you. He knew he was attracted to the boy, and it made little sense to give him a reason to fear Spike if in the process he wrecked any chance of being with Xander. On the other hand, going through the familiar paces would make for an experience neither of them would soon forget. And if it somehow let him be closer to Xander during those four days -- well, that would be a holiday gift in and of itself, no matter what the result.

Of course, the witch had explained easily that a hunt like that, without the resolution of the kill, wouldn’t hardly be worth the pursuit.

“Wouldn’t you rather,” she’d asked, “try a different kind of hunt? One that actually has a chance of concluding with some . . . uh, satisfying ending?”

So he’d listened carefully and not without surprise. He had worked to hide his feelings for Xander so carefully that he was sure no one knew a thing.

“Oh, come on Spike.” Willow had rolled her eyes. “Maybe I didn’t know for sure before tonight, but the ID bracelets you found for him -- his and Jesse’s -- I mean, no one would go to all that trouble unless he really cared about the other person.”

Spike started. “Okay, so maybe I do have some interest, but you only realized it because of the gift I gave him.”

Willow laughed. “I suspected. You’re not the most subtle vampire -- from the way you look at him, I figured out you were having lusty thoughts about Xander a while ago. But I thought it was just groiny-related, so I left it alone and let you think no one noticed. But if you really like him, want to be with him in both the sexy and non-sexy capacities . . . well, as weird as this sounds, I think that you two might actually be good for each other.”

At that point Willow had cleared her throat and shuffled some papers around her desk as though she were preparing her next statement. In reality, she was kindly waiting for Spike to stop opening and closing his mouth like a carp before she continued.

“Bright one, aren’t you?” he’d smirked, though the look on his face still betrayed some uncertainty. “Should have figured you’d be the one to guess what was happening.”

“So I think we understand each other then,” Willow said, leaning forward conspiratorially.

“Oh, yeah. Absolutely,” Spike said, nodding his agreement. After a moment, however, his eyes tightened in confusion. “What is it that we understand?”

Willow sighed quietly. “You like Xander. I happen to think Xander just might like you back, but he’s not so good at figuring this stuff out on his own. If I told him straight out right now how you feel, he’d be shocked. If you told him right now how you feel, he’d freak and run like a scared little bunny.”

“So what do I do then if I can’t -- ”

“You can use this ‘hunt’ as an excuse to warm him up to the idea of the two of you together. You know. Make him want to see you, do nice things for him, persuade him to recognize what’s been going on all along.”

Spike regarded her thoughtfully. “Sounds like we’re talking about an old-fashioned wooing. Like enough to a hunt anyway, isn’t it?”

“Something like that.” Willow smiled at him. “Think you can do it?”

“Can I!” Spike exclaimed. “I can, right?” he asked in a dubious tone.

“Yes. I have every confidence in you Spike. Now you go out there and get your man!” Willow said, pulling him out of the chair and turning him towards the door.

“Thanks for the pep talk, love,” Spike said as he paused at the threshold. “You really look out for the boy, don’t you?”

“I do, kind of,” she said with a wide grin. “And it’s a job that I recommend highly.”

***

Spike left that night feeling enormously pleased. Here was his chance to get Xander, in more ways than one.

By the time he arrived back at his crypt, however, he was frowning and kicking up chunks of grass in the cemetery out of spite. How was he supposed to go about this? Considering the problem all night left him with no more than different ways to ask the same question. Just what sort of tricks and strategies would enable him to pull Xander Harris into his arms at the end of four days?

“I’ve no bloody idea at all,” Spike muttered as the first beams of light shone dully through the crypt opening. “And I can’t very well go out and win the boy by making a Christmas kabob out of myself. Best to keep to the non-flammable indoors during the day. Should I begin tomorrow night then?”

He paced back and forth along the stone floor. “Should start small, and build up. That’s right, begin and . . . or sod all, bring out the big guns right away, and then . . .”

Spike paced himself into a kind of fury, then straight on into peevishness, and finally into the realm of pure exhaustion. He dropped down on the couch, still thinking, and didn’t wake until it was nearly daylight. Daylight of the next day.

When he did blink himself awake an hour before sunrise, he wanted to strangle himself for wasting an entire day. But there was no sense dwelling on the mistake. “Fine then. What’s done is done,” he reminded himself. “Best to come up with a new plan, move on with due speed.”

He pulled on his leather duster and began to move to the door. “I’ll just stop by his apartment then. Take a quick peek into the bedroom from the patio, and that’ll give me some ideas. Particularly seeing the boy all stretched out, tousled and luscious . . .” Spike drew in a sharp breath and growled. Why couldn’t he just be in that bed with him already? Stupid Xander. Having to be wooed and won.

But that moment of frustration was nothing compared to how he felt when he’d prowled around the balcony and didn’t find any signs of life in the apartment. He panicked, briefly imagining the terrible reasons why Xander might not be in his own bed. The obvious demonic explanations were quickly shunted for scenarios that inspired more jealousy than fear.

“Oh, well done,” he reproached himself. “One day and the boy’s clearly met someone else already. See what comes of indecision? Act first, I always say – that’s it, I’ve been blinded by feelings and let myself mope about like a poofter while some worthless sort made off with what’s mine.”

He threw one of the iron-wrought chairs off of Xander’s patio, vaguely pleased to hear one of the glass tables surrounding the deck of the pool smash into bits from the impact.

After a bit of stomping around, however, it occurred to him that he might as well check a few other places before the sun came up.

That’s how he came to have his face pressed against the Summers’ guest bedroom window, facing a shrieking Xander (who by the way looked quite scrumptious in boxers with jingle bells all over them). Sure, the scream had made him fall off the roof, but it had been worth it now that he realized what was happening. As he raced back to the crypt to avoid Buffy, he came to a most interesting conclusion.

Xander would likely have been startled any other time, but he’d jumped at that moment as though he were fearfully expecting Spike to pounce from any available corner.

“Must have been the full day that did it,” Spike said thoughtfully as he drew on his cigarette. “Expected something last night, but he got nothing. Saw me just now, and the build-up made him react more strongly than he would have otherwise.”

The pinking of the sky gave way to the sharp light of early dawn while Spike tapped the ashes away and considered his options. “Okay. He’s looking to see me . . . waiting for it . . . ” Spike smiled widely. “Oh, I’ll make him wait. I’ll make him want. When I’m through with him, he’ll come for me.”

***

The remainder of the day had been almost too easy. He’d popped up here and there, but always out of the boy’s sight and a little quick work with dusters and blankets had kept him mostly singe-free. Well, except for a nasty incident on his left hand when he’d leapt away to avoid discovery after nearly meeting Xander and Willow on the sidewalk.

By the next morning, his hand was healed for the most part, and he’d entertained himself through the early dawn by imagining all of the creative positions they could get into once the boy came around to his way of thinking.

“And now we wait,” Spike announced to his broken lamp, stumpy sputtering candles, and half-eaten pizza. He smirked, and thumped his heels against the stone post he sat upon.

Then he sighed. “Only trouble is, I do hate to wait. Like the boy, but he is slightly slow with this sort of thing.”

A small noise pricked his ears, and Spike tilted his head as it came near. Looked like the boy wasn’t so slow after all.

Xander burst into the crypt, all indignation and yumminess, wearing a dark red sweater with a cheery snowflake pattern splashed across the front.

“Well, well,” Spike said easily. “Look who’s here.” He flashed a look of smug satisfaction, mainly to cover his dismay at falling into such stock situation dialogue. Damn attractions of genre. What else was one supposed to say when the prey turned up at the lair?

“That would be me,” Xander said unnecessarily, and stopped. He screwed up his face and shook his head. “Just what the hell are you trying to pull, Spike? Did you think I wouldn’t see you there?”

“Wouldn’t see me where?” Spike asked with such genuine bewilderment that Xander looked doubtful in less than a second. “Here? I live here. Of course you’d find me in my home.”

“You know damn well what I’m talking about,” he said hotly, but he was starting to blush in a self-conscious manner at the same time.

“Can’t say as I do,” Spike returned. He paused to watch the flush creep over Xander’s face. Pretty, he thought almost dreamily. Then he shook himself, trying to focus on the matter at hand. “Why don’t you tell me all about it, pet? Have a seat.” Spike eased himself onto the couch and gestured for Xander to join him.

Xander sat and opened his mouth to begin his accusations.

“Croissant?” Spike offered.

“Croi-what?” Xander asked in confusion.

“Croissant.” Spike said slowly. “Baked things. The French eat them, I hear. And though you might know little about that, you do like things with butter and jam, don’t you?” He held out a plate of pastries that Xander hadn’t noticed until that moment.

“Uh . . . okay,” Xander said. He took one with only slight hesitation. “This wouldn’t be poisoned, would it?” he asked anxiously.

“Heavens no, pet,” Spike said. “Promised not to hurt you, remember?”

“Yeah,” Xander said. He chewed and looked confused.

“Coffee?” Spike offered with a quirk of his eyebrow. He pointed at Xander with a thermos and then waved it towards a set of mugs on the side table.

“What the . . . hey, I come over here to find out what’s happening, and you offer me continental breakfast?”

“Haven’t eaten yet, have you?” Spike asked. “Just go ahead . . . we’ll figure this all out together.” He patted Xander’s thigh reassuringly.

“Okay,” Xander said with an uncertain smile. He wasn’t really sure what was going on, but the coffee did smell really good. And Spike just seemed really friendly. After watching out for Spike’s tricks for two days, he felt overwhelmingly relieved to see him now. At least he could keep an eye on him for this day, maybe try to put an end to this stalker-y mind-game business.

Spike waited while Xander sipped his coffee. “What were you talking about earlier?” he asked with innocent curiosity.

“Oh, you know,” Xander said, waving his hand around vaguely. “Yesterday. The way you kept popping up, just out of my sight-line, and then disappearing to drive me crazy.”

“Now why would I do that?” Spike asked with wide eyes.

Xander faltered. “Um . . . to make me wig out?”

“What would be the point in that?” Spike asked. His befuddled glance played off Xander’s own expression as the boy appeared to grow more and more uncertain.

“That was you, right?” Xander took a gulp of coffee.

“Maybe you were imagining things?” Spike suggested. Best to keep answering the accusations and questions with questions of his own.

Xander turned away slightly and tried to think. He had been pretty worried since Willow’s party. Could it be that he’d somehow conjured the perception of Spike without Spike actually being around? He watched Spike out of the corner of his eye, but Spike looked kind of perplexed himself. Like he was trying to figure out what was happening with Xander. In kind of a cute befuddled manner, his blue eyes all agog. [And I did not just think that Spike looks cute] Xander told himself furiously. He turned back to face him.

“Okay, okay. I don’t know. Maybe some of it was my mind playing tricks on me. But you’re up to something. I know it. Hell, I agreed to it. Can’t you just tell me and then I can congratulate you on your good plan . . . and I can go back to just sleeping in and watching movies without stressing out over what you’re up to?”

“Surely you’ve figured everything out by now,” Spike said. He clapped Xander on the shoulder like he was congratulating him.

“No. I haven’t figured it out. I don’t get this,” Xander said slowly.

“Really?” Spike asked incredulously. “Well, I’m surprised, but I must say it’s made the whole thing much more amusing.”

At that Xander started up. “There! Now that’s the Spike I know. This amuses you? I’m upset -- I’m freaking out -- and you think it’s funny? Well, screw this, because I’m not playing your reindeer games any more!” He slammed down his mug of coffee, brushed the crumbs off his sweater, and marched indignantly out the door.

Spike set his mug down and swung his legs up on the couch. “Might as well have a nap,” he told himself. “He’ll be hunting me down again by evening for sure.”

***

Xander let himself back into his apartment and double-locked the door.

“Weirdness,” he said under his breath.

Okay, the only time he could say for sure he’d seen Spike was this morning -- and he’d been the one to seek Spike out instead of the other way around. “And now I’m being brunched by the evil undead? I can’t get a handle on this. Maybe I should just forget about this, go do regular stuff, like Willow said.”

Trouble was, now he couldn’t get his mind off of Spike. “Maybe he just hasn’t been hunting me at all. Kind of like getting a gift certificate that you don’t cash in on. Like if you get one for a store that has nothing you want.” Xander paused, remembering the wide-eyed looks the vampire had given him at the crypt. He shivered slightly. Spike had looked so sweet, so concerned . . . and what was up with that?

He puttered around the kitchen a little, trying to figure things out. He’d begun to flip through take-out menus when he had a new thought. “Wait a second. Does he think I’m not worth hunting or something? Like I’m not good enough prey for William the Bloody! That’s a real kick in the head. Hey, I’m just as enticing and alluring as the next victim. Maybe just because he can’t see it . . . ”

Xander grumped around the apartment and then decided to take a stand. “I’ll show him who’s a prize kill.”

***

The sky was darkened with dark blue wisps of clouds when Willow heard a banging on their door. She glanced at Tara, who only shrugged and went back to watching the “Year Without a Santa Claus”.

“Xander!” Willow exclaimed when she opened the door. Her best friend stood on the stoop with his eyes flashing and shoulders tensed.

“Where is he? Is he in here? Don’t tell me he left town. That’d be just like him!”

“Whoa, hey there,” Willow said. She grabbed Xander’s shoulders and tried to get him to focus. “Where is who?”

“God, Wills -- of course I mean Spike! Are you trying to mess with my mind?” Xander’s voice rose to a near-shriek, and Willow hastily pulled him inside.

“Look, just come in, and you’ll tell me all about it, ‘kay?” Willow nodded, hoping Xander would nod back.

“I don’t have time to fool around, Wills. He’s not at his crypt. He’s not at The Bronze. He’s not at the dump, or the movie theater, or Willy’s, or Giles’ apartment, or the gay bar down by the piers . . . ”

“You looked for Spike at a gay bar?” Tara bravely asked from her perch.

“Well, what else do you expect? It’s like he’s hiding under a rock!” Xander said. His voice was edged with frustration, and he leaned in conspiratorially. “You don’t think that he is hiding under a rock, do you?”

“Of course not!” Willow said. She searched his face for some kind of clue as to how she should handle this, but Xander had really worked himself into a state.

“I can’t stay, alright? If you don’t know what’s going on, I’ll find out myself.” Xander nodded decisively and rapidly retreated the way he had come.

Willow stared out the open door while Tara padded over, put her head on her shoulder and hugged her from behind with a tender squeeze.

“I’d have thought for sure that Spike would be the one asking where Xander is. You know, I don’t get those boys,” Willow said.

“Well hey, don’t ask me to explain boys,” Tara said with a funny voice, and Willow giggled.

***

“Ah ha!” Xander said loudly.

Spike looked up from his coffee. The quizzical look on his face threw Xander for a moment, but then he remembered that he wasn’t letting Spike get away with not hunting him. So he said “Ah ha!” again, despite some odd looks from the other patrons of the Espresso Pump.

“What, then?” Spike asked. He laid down his spoon and picked up his mug with deliberate motions.

“Ah ha?” Xander asked in a wavering voice.

“You said that already. Can I help you with something?” Spike asked.

“No. No way. No way do you get to back out of this, Spike. If you’re trying to make me feel inadequate, well, I won’t let you. I refuse to let you give up on this hunt.”

Spike smiled into his coffee. “What convinces you that I’ve given up?”

Xander gestured at Spike and then pointed at himself. “I had to come here to find you. I’d say that if you’re going through with this like you said you would, it should be the reverse, right? You’ve got me thinking about where you are, what you’re doing, what you’re thinking . . . cripes, it’s like I’m stalking you.” He shook his finger at Spike furiously. “And you’re supposed to be the one stalking me!”

“Well, one would think,” Spike remarked thoughtfully.

Xander paced back and forth. Spike watched.

“That’s it,” Xander said at last. “You’re coming with me.”

“What? Hey!” Spike shouted in protest. Xander hauled him up off the chair and stumbled him out of the café. “What gives?”

“Shut up,” Xander said a little hysterically. “We’ll talk when we get back to my apartment. Then you can explain yourself all you want.”

“Oh, you bet I will,” Spike said in what was meant to be a sharp tone. But though Xander couldn’t imagine why, it sounded like a very satisfied purr.

***

“Okay,” Xander said, giving Spike a little shove in the direction of his couch. It was well past midnight, the fourth day of the “hunt” and he still didn’t know what was going on. He was damned if he wasn’t going to find out right now, though. He gestured at Spike impatiently. “You. Sit.”

“Look at you, being all masterful,” Spike crooned, and Xander “hmph”ed.

“Just be quiet and sit down. I mean, sit down and talk. Don’t be quiet,” Xander amended. “Explain yourself.”

“I’d be more than happy to explain whatever you like,” Spike assured him. “If you could just provide the topic, I’ll explain until the twelfth day of Christmas.”

Xander took a deep breath. “You’re trying to drive me crazy.”

Spike paused. “You know, I’m really not.”

“What are you trying to do then?” Xander asked in a plaintive tone.

Xander had edged closer, his eyes desperate as he searched Spike’s face for the answer to his question. Spike found himself lost in those rich brown eyes momentarily. Well, he thought to himself, might as well go in for the kill.

He reached out and pulled Xander to him, bringing their mouths together with a sudden movement. Xander jumped slightly then went still. Spike kept up a soft pressure, gently sliding his lips over Xander’s in a teasing movement. Xander said “oh!” right into his mouth, and after a few more moments of brushing lips and Spike nibbling at him, he parted his lips and flicked his tongue into Spike’s mouth experimentally. Spike moaned appreciatively, and attempted to draw him closer, but Xander stopped, and retreated.

Xander raised his hand to his mouth and stared. He unconsciously began rubbing his lower lip, and Spike decided he didn’t want to wait any longer for everything to sink in.

He stood, and held out his hand.

“What?” Xander asked with wide eyes.

“Come on.”

“Where are we going?”

“To your bedroom.”

Xander leaned back and forward so quickly that Spike thought for a moment the boy would pass out cold. Then he got to his feet, looking down at the ground shyly.

“When did this happen?” Xander said to the carpet.

“What?” Spike leaned forward to try to catch his words.

“You know. You wanting to, uh . . . get all kissy and go to bed with me.”

“What do you think this has been about from the start?” Spike asked.

“This?” Xander asked in a small voice, gesturing back and forth from himself to Spike.

“This,” Spike confirmed, grasping Xander’s extended hand gently.

“Oh,” Xander said. He rocked on his feet like he was still dazed by this announcement.

“Just . . . be still.” Spike spoke softly, but with a firm tone. Xander shivered a little, then nodded.

Spike reached out a hand a lightly slid his fingers over Xander’s chest. He looked up inquiringly. Xander met his eyes in a kind of a fog, seemingly urging more explanation. But when Spike held out both his hands this time, Xander slipped his own in, and Spike led him walking backwards so that Xander could see him the whole time, see that he meant him no harm.

After quickly shucking his duster and shirt, Spike carefully slid Xander’s sweater up over his head. Xander’s thick brown hair ruffled when he was left in just his t-shirt, and his dark eyes shone with confusion and something more.

“What did -- ” he began, but Spike kissed him again so hungrily that he couldn’t help but urge him closer, running his hands through the blonde hair that should have been brittle but was soft and silky instead.

“You like this?” Spike asked as he drew back, sliding kisses along Xander’s neck and thumbing over one of Xander’s nipples through the thin material of the t-shirt.

“Yes,” Xander said in a hiss. He tugged Spike down on the bed next to him, sighing as Spike slipped his hands under his t-shirt and eased it off.

Spike nuzzled and licked the rose-brown nipples, biting lightly back up Xander’s chest and edging their bodies together point-to-point until they were rocking into one another, grasping at buttons and belts and fabric until there was only skin between them.

Small needy sounds emerged from Xander as he tried to move and mold and shape himself to fit Spike’s body. “I . . . god, Spike . . . I’ve never . . . ”

“Nice,” Spike said quietly. “Those sweet little moans . . . all for me?”

Xander gasped and nodded. Spike’s words contributed to his speechlessness just as much as the pressure of their erections rubbing together. But his gesture seemed answer enough, for Spike crooned at him, taking his wrist and drawing over it with blunt teeth before licking and sucking there.

“Oh, man,” Xander said softly as Spike locked eyes with him and continuing his biting and sucking motions up Xander’s arm.

“Lovely,” Spike whispered, and Xander couldn’t tell if he meant this, whatever this was, was lovely, or if he was calling Xander lovely. Either way . . . he blushed, and Spike nuzzled closer, running his hands over Xander’s warm, bright skin.

“Wait.” Xander panted as Spike’s hands gripped his hips and turned them over to that he was lying on top of Xander. “Wait just a second. What was up with those croissants?”

Spike paused, and then wriggled slightly, making Xander’s whimper. “Breakfast?” Xander whimpered again, but still managed to look slightly stern. “Oh, all right, they were part of my grand plan to seduce you.”

Xander turned disbelieving eyes on him. “I freaked out wondering what you would do to me for days, and you basically you went out and bought yummy baked things. And I kind of did the rest of the work. I mean, seduction-wise.”

“I suppose you did make it rather easy for me,” Spike said with a silky voice, skimming Xander’s sides with a ghosting motion that made the man beneath him shiver. “But neither one of us really did the seduction work, did we? I . . . wanted you, but you didn’t realize . . . ”

“Starting to realize,” Xander said slowly, his incredulous look softening as he gazed at Spike. Spike smiled at him, moving down slightly and beginning to stroke Xander’s thighs. “So you . . . oh god . . . you planned . . . This hunt was all about . . . ” Xander trailed off in a moan.

“Beautiful,” Spike murmured as he brushed his cheek against Xander’s abdomen. He looked up to see Xander regarding him anxiously, and he planted a kiss on each of Xander’s hipbones before meeting his eyes once more. “It was about making you mine, pet. And that didn’t begin just a few days ago. That plan has been going on for quite some time. The last few days . . . ”

“Were kinda like . . . ”

“Speeding things up a little. Drawing you in. Making you see how very badly I wanted you,” Spike finished quietly.

Xander reached down and stroked Spike’s cheek. His eyes were wide and dark. “Spike . . . can we just . . . ”

“Talk about this in the morning?” Spike finished for him, and they grinned at each other.

Xander pulled him back up and they kissed again, harder and more desperately this time.

“Um . . . merry Christmas, Spike,” he said shyly.

“And Happy Holidays to you too, pet,” Spike grinned, diving back in to kiss Xander back into distraction.

 

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