Persistence is Key

 

Spike was not giving up.  He hadn't expected this to be easy, but he was surprised at the anger that he'd seen in Xander's face.  He'd expected the man to be shocked, and yes, a bit angry, but nothing like the rage he'd seen simmering in those chocolate eyes.

 

What had incensed the man so?  Spike could understand feelings of anger and jealousy, but Xander had acted as if he hadn't even cared whether Buffy lived or died.  But Spike had seen compassion and caring in him before he'd dropped the news about his mother.  Could he hate her so much that he was willing to let Buffy suffer?  A woman he'd never even met before? 

 

Spike was hoping that, once the shock had worn off, the answer would be no.  That Xander would understand that whatever reasons his mother and father had had back then, they had nothing to do with Buffy.  That Buffy shouldn't be punished for whatever slight Xander felt his parents had inflicted upon him.

 

Spike studied the scrap of paper he'd written Xander's work address on.  The private investigator they'd hired had provided a lot of information; home address, work, phone numbers for both.  Spike had debated calling him before his arrival, but had feared his response.  He didn't want to be turned away before he could even meet the bloke he was supposed to convince.

 

Now that he'd been rebuffed, Spike's only plan of attack was to dog the man until he agreed to listen.  And so he found himself here, wondering whether he'd written the address down incorrectly.  The PI had mentioned that Xander worked in the adult industry, stripping.  This was something that hadn't entirely shocked Spike; although he'd never actually known any strippers of the male persuasion, he had met one or two of the female variety.

 

Xander's profession didn't particularly shock him, but his place of employment did.  He'd expected something along the lines of The Fabulous Ladies Night Club, not The Gentleman's Club for Men.  Xander stripped at a gay club?  Was Xander a pouf?  Spike had never been in a gay club before, and he wasn't especially interested in changing that.  But if this was the only way to make Xander realize he wasn't going away, at least not without another serious discussion, then he had no choice.

 

Spike steeled himself and entered the smoky club.  The lights were down low and it was difficult to see more than a few feet in front of him.  He took a seat at the bar and ordered a beer.  He waited, wondering where Xander was and if he would get a chance to talk to him before the show started.  He was glancing around the club, waiting for his eyes to adjust to the darkness when the stage lights came on and an announcer appeared.

 

"Good evening, everyone!  As always, our sexy stallion Xander is first up!  Enjoy!!"  The crowd erupted in applause and then the man moved off the stage and the lights turned to focus on the break in the curtains.

 

Unconsciously Spike held his breath, and then nearly fainted when Xander appeared.  Sexy stallion?  The man hadn't been kidding.  Xander's dark brown hair looked almost black shining in the lights on stage. His skin was slick and shiny from some type of oil, and his cheeks were flush.  His costume tonight was some kind of cowboy, although there wasn't much to it.  He appeared to be wearing a black leather vest with no shirt underneath, and black leather chaps with just a matching black thong.  Every time he turned his back on the crowd they were treated to an excellent view of his ass clenching and unclenching as he moved sinuously across the stage.

 

Spike found himself squirming on his barstool.  He was shocked to realize he'd already gotten half hard watching the man strutting on stage.  What was wrong with him?  He'd never once been attracted to a man before; he wasn't a pouf, thank you very much.  He liked women just fine.  Not that there was anything wrong with it, just that, that had never been something he was interested in.  But as he watched Xander dancing above him, Spike couldn't help but lose himself in the man's performance.

 

But when Xander started taking his clothes off, Spike's jaw dropped open.  Maybe he hadn't thought this whole thing out too clearly.  He'd forgotten that, whether he was in a gay club or not, by the end of the night Spike would be seeing Xander naked.  And though it obviously didn't bother Xander, since he did this sort of thing every night, Spike wasn't too sure how he felt about the idea.  He'd never seen another man naked before, barring actors in movies.  His nervousness was made worse by the fact that he was still half hard and getting harder every moment.

 

Then Xander was wearing nothing but his thong, hips gyrating to the music, muscles glistening from the oil.  And Spike couldn't move.  His eyes were glued to the man before him, and he was powerless to look away.  If not for the loud beat of the music, Spike would have heard the raucous laughter and hooting catcalls.  Or maybe not, absorbed as he was in the performance itself.

 

And then, between one blink and the next, Xander reached down and grabbed his thong and pulled.  The flimsy thing ripped away revealing Xander in his entirety.  Spike felt his cock twitch, and he stomped down hard on these new and off-putting feelings clawing through him.

 

Finally the lights went down and the club went back to its previous dim atmosphere until the next performer was ready.  Spike took the time to breathe in large draughts of air, choking slightly on the smoke he inhaled.  He was sipping his now warm beer absently when he felt a presence next to him.

 

"Enjoy the show?"

 

Spike spun to find Xander sitting beside him, a beer placed with a smile from the bartender in his hands.  "Uhm...yeah, mate, it was...you're very talented."

 

Xander threw back his head and laughed at Spike's spluttering attempt at a compliment.  "Never been to one of these clubs before, have you?"

 

"No, I - "

"Save the denials, I know you're not gay," Xander interrupted.  "You don't set off my gaydar."

 

"Gaydar?"  Spike asked, brow upraised.

 

"Yeah, you know.  A gay man's ability to sense other gay men in the area?  Like radar?  Gaydar?"  Xander tried to clue him in.

 

"So, you're..."

 

"Yeah."

 

They sat in silence for a minute, each sipping at their beers only as an afterthought.  Finally, Xander broke the silence between them.  "So, you're not going to go away, are you?"

 

"No, not until we talk."

 

"We've already talked."

"You were upset.  Understandable, but you don't even know Buffy.  Don't know anything about her, or why her life's worth saving."

"Buffy.  That her name?"

 

"Yeah.  Buffy, Buffy Summers.  Real name's Elizabeth, but nobody calls her that, not even your mum."

 

"She's not *my* mom," Xander said through gritted teeth.

 

"I'm sorry.  Didn't mean - "

"What?  Didn't mean to bring up a painful subject?  Didn't mean to rub my nose in the fact that she didn't want me?"  Suddenly Xander spun off his stool and stood.  He waved a perfunctory goodbye to the bartender, grabbed a small bag Spike hadn't seen lying on the stool beside him and headed for the door.

 

Hurriedly, Spike threw a few dollars on the bar and chased after him.  "Xander, wait!"

 

Xander stopped but didn't turn around.  When Spike caught up to him, he started walking again.  The club was only about a mile from his apartment and he had apparently walked to work that evening.

 

They walked in silence for a few minutes, and Spike was glad that he'd thought to bring his duster.  The Las Vegas night was crisp as the wind whipped up.  When he'd found out that Alexander Harris lived in Las Vegas and worked as a stripper, Spike was wary of what kind of man he'd find.  But after meeting Xander he knew, deep down, that he was a good man, and that he would eventually agree to do the right thing.

 

"Xander, I'm sorry."

 

"Yeah, you said that already."  Xander shrugged.

 

"I'm trying really hard to say the right things.  I don't want to make this any more difficult for you than it already is."  Spike was earnest.  "It's hard for me, too, you know."

 

Xander chuckled mirthlessly.  "Yeah, I'm sure it was really hard growing up with a mom and dad who love you, parents that actually wanted you around."

 

"Don't have a mum.  Died when I was just a babe," Spike muttered.

 

"I'm sorry," Xander murmured.

 

"I do have a da, though.  He and Joyce are quite close, as are Buffy and I," Spike explained.

 

"She your girlfriend?"  Xander asked, curious.

 

"No.  Just friends.  More like siblings.  She's been a part of my life for a long time now," Spike answered.

 

They were quiet as they walked the last few blocks to Xander's apartment.  When they got to the building's front door, Xander held it open for Spike, a silent invitation to enter.  Heartened at Xander's gesture Spike stepped in, then followed Xander back up to his apartment.

 

"Okay, I'll listen.  But I don't guarantee you'll like my answer," Xander stated as he fished his key out of his jeans pocket and inserted it in the lock. 

 

Just then the door across the hall opened and a bundle of pure energy came racing out.  The tiny figure hurled himself at Xander, hugging his leg enthusiastically.

 

"Hey buddy."  Xander ruffled the young boy's hair.  Spike estimated his age at about seven.  He was what Buffy would call adorably cute.  Brown hair, just a shade lighter than Xander's, deep chocolate colored eyes, and an infectious smile that he turned on Spike almost immediately.  Spike found himself grinning back.

 

Spike's jaw dropped open for the second time that night when the little boy turned to Xander and asked in a curious voice, "Daddy, who's that?