Mission Implausible

Part Two: Training Missions

That Friday night, Spike forced himself to maintain a leisurely pace as he walked from his crypt to the Magic Box. He raised the smoldering cigarette to his lips and took a deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs, and then exhaling long and slow. There was a growing ball of excitement simmering in his gut. He wasn’t certain whether it should be attributed to the new wardrobe he was picturing as he tried to decide what to wear to the club that evening, or to his anticipation of the nice spot of violence the Watcher had promised.

Deciding it didn’t matter, he continued on his way. Outside the magic shop he drew once more upon the cigarette before tossing it into the gutter and pushing the door open. His ears were assailed by a raucous noise, which he eventually determined was Xander and Buffy arguing in the back room. Willow, Tara, and Giles sat around the research table.

Giles was nursing a scotch, the tumbler gripped tightly in one hand while the other held onto his glasses and rubbed his temples. Willow and Tara were holding hands and giggling. They smiled at Spike and waved as he stalked past them. When he reached the training room, he leaned against the doorframe and watched as Buffy tried to dress Xander.

He was wearing a pair of silver leather pants, and nothing else. Spike was surprised to find he enjoyed the view. Maybe he wouldn’t be embarrassed to be seen in public with Harris. Well, at least not because of the clothes.

Xander held his arms out to his sides and indicated the pants he wore. "I can’t wear these," he insisted loudly.

Buffy placed her hands on her hips and leaned forward, menacingly. "Why not?" she growled in reply, her tone indicating it wasn’t the first time she’d asked, and that she hadn’t liked any of the answers so far.

"They’re too *tight*," Xander replied vehemently. "And they’re really not my color," he added piteously.

"Did you take your boxers off?" Buffy asked, obviously deciding to take the tack of ignoring his objections.

"Buff..."

"I think they look fine. What do you think, Spike?" she asked.

Xander jumped and tried to cover himself when he saw Spike standing there. Spike just smirked and let his eyes roam over Xander’s body. "He’ll do," he said, and then turned his attention to the rack of clothes, picking out his own outfit. As he headed for the bathroom in the front of the shop, Buffy handed Xander the red mesh t-shirt.

"Buffy!" he whined.

***

When he stepped out of the bathroom, everyone was gathered around the table. Xander was no longer complaining about the clothes he had to wear, his attention captured by the cell phone he was fondling. As Spike watched, he closed it, and then flipped the top open. "Beam me up, Scotty," he said into the makeshift communicator.

Spike moved silently until he was right behind him. Reaching around the other man, he snatched the phone out of his hand. With a squeal of surprise, Xander jumped and turned around to face him. "Q won’t give you any more of these if you keep treating them like toys," he said.

Xander looked confused. Not that that was unusual. "Uh, Q wasn’t in the original...," he said, his voice tapering off at Spike’s look.

"Not Picard’s Q, Bond’s Q," Spike retorted in exasperation. "You’re the one who wanted to be all ‘Mission Impossible’," he added.

"That’s not Bond...," Willow started, and then clamped her lips shut at the narrow-eyed look Spike threw her. "But what do I know?"

"You know a lot. You’re a very smart witch," Tara stuck up for her.

"Thanks." Willow preened.

"Now, play nice, you two," Buffy urged, and then smiled as if she was really enjoying this. "We should have made popcorn," she whispered loudly in Willow’s direction, her eyes never leaving the sight of Spike and Xander dressed for a night out. "Their first date," she simpered, pretending to wipe a tear from her eye.

"Hey!" Spike and Xander both cried.

"Are you both ready to go?" Giles asked suddenly.

"I’m ready," Spike said. "Just need to put these in the back." He hefted the clothes he’d changed out of. Tossing the phone to Xander, who bobbled it several times before catching it and clasping it tightly in his hands, he swept past and deposited his bundle on the couch in the back room.

When he returned, Giles was giving Xander a pep talk, and Spike took a moment to check out the boy’s outfit. Xander was wearing the silver leather pants and red mesh t-shirt with a pair of black boots and a brown leather jacket that fell to mid-thigh. He was nervously fingering the phone and nodding as he listened to Giles, sparing a frown for Spike.

"Well, kiddies," Spike interrupted, rubbing his hands together gleefully. "Let’s get this show on the road." He was eager to be seen in his new kit.

"Yes, well...," Giles began, and then hesitated. He cleared his throat and started again. "I think it would be...best...if you were to have transportation this evening. In case you need to make a, er, quick exit. And also to give you more, uh, standing among the other patrons...credibility, as it were."

There was silence as everyone waited for him to continue. Spike finally broke it. "What do you want us to do, Watcher? Hijack a bus?"

"Oh, um, no. I..." He reached into his pocket and drew out a key chain with one key on it. "I’m giving you, er, *Xander*," he emphasized, "the key to my car." He turned to Xander, took his hand, and placed the key into the palm. "Be careful, please. And do not let Spike behind the wheel or I will put itching powder in your laundry detergent. Am I clear?"

Spike pouted.

Xander’s eyes bugged and he nervously tugged his hand out of Giles’ grasp. "Very," he squeaked.

***

Xander looked down at the key he held and was suddenly filled with confidence. The gang was trusting him, the Zeppo, to not only drive Giles’ new baby, but to go undercover and get the book they needed. He tried to ignore the fact that they were sending Spike with him as backup. He pocketed the phone, and then tossed the key into the air and expertly caught it.

"Ready, fangl-, er, uh, buddy?" he asked Spike, and then turned and headed for the front door. "Don’t wait up, G-man!" he called back. He thought he heard Giles groan. Without waiting to see whether Spike was following him, Xander pulled the door open and stepped out into the night. He paused on the sidewalk to let his eyes run over the red convertible.

"Nice," he drawled to himself, and then swung around it and slid into the drivers’ seat. Maybe tonight wasn’t going to be so bad, if he got to drive Giles’ car. He adjusted the mirrors, and then rubbed his hand on the butter-soft leather of the seat.

He watched Spike as the vampire climbed in beside him. Spike didn’t look so bad, either. He’d chosen to pair the blue silk button-up shirt with the black leather pants, black boots, and black leather jacket. He almost looked like he normally did, except for the blue. And the fact that everything was shiny and new. Xander found himself mesmerized by the patch of white skin visible where Spike had left the top three buttons of the shirt undone.

"The night’s not getting any younger, mo-, er, Harris," Spike said, shaking Xander out of his musings.

"Huh?" he asked, and then realized what Spike had said. "Oh, yeah, right." He put the key in the ignition and turned it. The car purred to life, and Xander smiled. He checked the mirrors and then pulled away from the curb, driving slow and careful. When he reached the outskirts of town, he pulled over, found the button for putting the top down, and watched it retract.

After he pulled back onto the road, he increased his speed, enjoying the feel of the wind in his hair and the purr of the engine beneath him, secure in the knowledge that there was more power where this came from. He tried to pretend that he was alone, or enjoying the night with someone other than Spike. *Anyone* other than Spike.

He sighed as he admitted to himself that the evenings spent practicing being friends with Spike were a bit more fun than hours of boring research or being tossed about by the demon of the week while on patrol.

The first evening Xander had to bite his tongue at least a half dozen times to keep from spouting his usual insults at the blond vampire. As had Spike, though that had been almost comical to watch. Each time Spike caught himself about to say something offensive to Xander, his face had scrunched up as if he’d just tasted pig’s blood.

Neither one of them had been completely victorious, and it brought home to Xander just how many of the words he and Spike exchanged were barbed. In the end, they’d made it through the night, though it had taken a couple extra shots and long necks to do it.

After that hellish night was over, Xander went to sleep with the pride of a mission successfully completed. That feeling lasted until he reached the Magic Box the next evening where Giles informed him and Spike of their next assignment. They were to go out together once more, and in addition to not saying anything insulting, they actually had to come up with one nice or complimentary thing to say to the other by the end of the evening.

They’d both vocally protested on the grounds that it was morally objectionable and physically impossible, but Giles held firm, and the mention of Willow and Tara taking their place had both of them immediately backing down, though they continued to grumble and complain beneath their breath, existent and nonexistent. Giles just waved them out of the shop.

They played pool and drank, remaining silent for the most part, since removing insults from their conversation really cut down on their usual chatter. It wasn’t until their evening was nearly over that they managed to say anything remotely nice to each other.

Xander had thought of and discarded several compliments that would leave him open to ridicule, like the time the bar lights and smoke had combined to make Spike’s blue eyes sparkle. The fact that he’d even thought that, much less been about to say it aloud, had made Xander choke on his beer. Spike just glowered at him as he slapped him on the back a little harder than necessary.

Finally, one ball away from losing five games in a row, Xander said, "You, uh, you play pool really well."

Spike, who was lining up his shot to sink the 8-ball, paused and looked up at Xander through this lashes. "Yeah, well," he hesitated. "You don’t suck."

He took his shot, but Xander wasn’t even watching. He knew the ball would go into the pocket. He stared at Spike in disbelief. "Did you... Was that supposed to be a compliment?" he squeaked.

Spike grimaced in acknowledgment. "‘S not my best, I know," he admitted as he placed his cue stick in the rack that hung on the wall. "But look what I’ve got to work with."

Xander sucked in an indignant breath. "Hey! That’s not... You’re not... I’m telling Giles!"

Spike grinned happily. "Sissy."

Xander’s eyes went wide. "Look, you undead bloodsucker...!" he began, then stopped.

"Feel better?" Spike asked.

Xander flexed his shoulders. "Yeah," he admitted, without looking at Spike.

"Me, too. Now let’s go over to the bar so you can buy me another drink," he said, leading the way.

Xander followed, but only so he could complain. "Me? Buy you a drink? Why?"

"‘Cause you lost," Spike replied.

"Oh, yeah," Xander said glumly, pulling out his wallet. Why did he continue to bet with Spike?

Xander hoped that was the end of their ‘training missions’, but when he reported to the Magic Box the next night, Giles was ready with yet another assignment. This time they had to spend the evening together doing something other than playing pool, preferably something where they could practice actually carrying on a conversation, which Giles expected they’d be required to do at the club.

They were immediately presented with a hurdle when they tried to decide what they were going to do. Xander suggested bowling. Spike gave him the evil eye and told him he wouldn’t be caught dead, or dead-er, in bowling shoes. Xander stopped himself from telling Spike he actually had his own pair and they were pretty darn comfy.

Spike suggested going to a movie, he’d heard there was a movie with lots of skin and gratuitous violence showing at the cinema. Giles reminded him it had to be an activity where they could actually hold a conversation. Spike had just looked at them, shrugged, and said, "Yeah?" Giles vetoed the movie idea.

Buffy suggested ice skating, and everyone looked at her. She huffed, "What? At least I didn’t suggest bowling."

"Hey!" Xander protested.

Willow suggested dinner, which Spike gave the kibosh with a, "Don’t eat, Red."

Tara supported her girlfriend. "You don’t *have* to eat, but you do."

Giles suggested they go for a cup of coffee at the café down the street, or to the museum.

Xander and Spike looked at each other and shuddered. "We’ll figure something out," Xander said, and he and Spike quickly made their escape.

Giles’ voice floated after them, "And no insults!"

As soon as the door closed behind them, Spike took off towards the outskirts of town.

"Hey! Where do you think you’re going?" Xander yelled.

"Patrol," Spike yelled back. "Really need to kill something," he muttered.

"We can’t go on patrol now!" Xander cried as he ran to catch up. "You heard Giles, we have to...*talk*," he spat the word.

"Fine. I’ll tell you when to duck," Spike offered.

"Thanks a lot, fangl...," he paused as he caught himself about to insult Spike, and saw the vampire look over at him with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. "You know," he said. "Fangless isn’t an insult so much as a, uh, nickname," he finished happily, glad he’d actually thought of something to excuse his lapse.

"Yeah, right," Spike drawled. "So’s moron."

After patrolling two cemeteries, during which Spike was able to dust three vamps and kill a Dothrahk demon, and Xander had managed to stay out of harms way while he watched Spike have the time of his life, Xander tried to make Spike go bowling with him.

"No way will I participate in such a poncey...activity - I won’t even deign to call it a *sport* - as bowling," he declared.

"No fair!" Xander whined. "You got to pick patrol!"

"And you get to pick our next activity, so long as it includes lots of liquor," Spike said.

Xander grinned. Spike obviously didn’t know there was a bar at the bowling alley. Xander led the way to the Sunnydale Bowl. When Spike realized where he had been brought, he growled.

"What are we doing here?"

"You said, ‘so long as it includes lots of liquor’," Xander quoted smugly.

"I also said ‘no bowling’," Spike snarled.

"So I’ll bowl, you can watch. And talk," Xander said. Ignoring Spike’s look of disgust, Xander pulled the door open and went inside.

He had his rental shoes on and was picking out a ball when Spike stormed up behind him. "This is soddin’ ridiculous!" he barked.

"You’re just scared ‘cause there might be something I’m better at than you," Xander responded reasonably.

"Am not!" Spike denied the charge.

"Whatever," Xander said, slipping past him with the ball he’d chosen.

"I’m not!" Spike insisted, following Xander to the lane he’d been assigned.

"Fine," Xander said. "You’re a master bowler."

"Don’t call me that, ya poof!" Spike bit out.

"Tut, tut," Xander said, shaking a finger at Spike, and then raising his ball. He held the ball beneath his chin and lined up the shot. He drew his arm back and rolled the ball down the lane. He knocked down eight pins, leaving a split, with one pin still standing on each side. He groaned. When the ball came back, he lined up his shot and threw the ball again, knocking down one of the two remaining pins.

Spike moaned theatrically. "This is worse than watching that wanker Angelus fix his hair," he complained. "I need a drink."

Xander bought them each a drink. He nursed his, then switched to water. Bowling worked up more of a sweat than it looked like it should. By the time Spike had finished his third scotch with a beer chaser, he was insisting that he could bowl better than Xander.

Xander, realizing that the weight of the ball wouldn’t matter to Spike, held it out in a ‘come-and-get-it’ gesture. He knew the exaggerated expression of disbelief on his face would force Spike to prove himself.

Spike stepped up to the lane and grabbed the ball out of Xander’s hand. He growled at the attendant when he tried to make Spike take off his street shoes. He held the ball as he’d seen Xander do, and then sent it down the lane...and straight into the gutter.

Xander wasn’t sure how he held back the snicker. "Don’t worry." He patted Spike on the back. "You get one more shot."

"‘M just warming up," Spike said.

"Oh, yeah, I know," Xander said, snorting as the laughter he was trying to suppress bubbled out.

"Shut up, git," Spike growled, grabbing the ball when it rolled back.

Part Three: The Mission - Introduction