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Taming the Muse Prompt 37, BoaS Part 21, The night after the morning before, BtVS, PG
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Title: The night after the morning before
Part 21 of the Blood on a Sundial series. Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #37 - Devotee
At:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 1,658
21. The night after the morning before
Waking up was a slow and uncomfortable process. Xander's body was reluctant, but some instinct buried deep in his brain was insistent. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. The room was dark, but he hardly noticed that because the first thing he saw were a pair of yellow eyes hovering in the air next to him, glowing like twin headlights. He let out a gurgling scream and scrambled madly backwards, blankets and cushions shifting under his flailing hands and feet.
The glowing eyes disappeared to be replaced by Spike's voice, "Calm down, pet. It's just me. Hang on, I'll get the light."
There was the sound of boots retreating across the wood floor, then the light above the stove flicked on and Xander could see Spike, dressed and looking ready to go out. He sagged with the loss of sudden tension and drew the blanket back over himself, up to his chin, as he watched Spike return.
Spike squatted down next to him again, this time in his human face. He studied Xander closely. "Looking a bit peaked, love. How you feeling?"
Xander groaned, bringing one hand up to push his hair back off his forehead. It felt sweaty and lank. He rubbed his eyes. "Well since you've now woken me up, I think I can safely say..." He paused. "I really wish you hadn't," he finished, with as much vehemence as he could muster, before subsiding again with another groan. "I think my head's going to fall off," he added pitifully as he began to push the blanket away, preparing to play the martyr. "Okay. I'm getting up."
Spike shoved him back down with a smirk. "Think maybe you'd best stay in, today," he suggested. "I've got to go hunt down that snitch. You don't look like you're in any state for a scrap. Positive liability like that, what with being a target now, an' all."
Even to Xander's foggy mind that sounded not right. He blinked, blankly at Spike. "Target? Why am I a target? I don't want to be a target." Running both hands up over his forehead and through his hair, he attempted to scratch life back into his brain through his skull. "Really... I'm just as happy being overlooked." But he pulled the blanket back over himself, just in case Spike was serious.
Spike snorted with what could have been amusement. "Too late for that mate." He said. "You killed three vampire's last night, including the so-called master of New York. That sort of thing doesn't go unnoticed. There'll be a new master ready to step up, but they'll have to prove themselves. What better way than to kill the human who killed the last master?"
Xander squinted up at Spike. "But it was just luck," he protested. "You shoved the first two at me. And the only reason I got any of them, was because they didn't really notice me. The only reason I got close to the master, was because he was concentrating on you. They took one look at me and knew I wasn't a threat. And I'm really not. The only way I'd ever manage to kill a vampire, would be pure luck." A sudden memory of The Bronze and Jesse's face just before it disintegrated caught Xander unawares and the pain in his head was dwarfed by the pain in his chest. It was so intense that he curled himself up into a ball in an effort to escape it.
Spike didn't appear to notice anything because he continued the conversation, "Doesn't matter. You did it and you were seen to do it. I'll silence Azumar, the little bastard, but if you think the story's not all over the city by now, you're dreaming. And there's no way a sneaky bloody ingrate like him will play it down, if only to explain why the hell he ran away." He rolled backwards so that he was sitting on the floor with his knees bent up in front of him, leaning on his bracing arms. "Hmm... looks like I'd better teach you a few moves. Didn't drag you 3,000 miles just to have you get yourself murdered in New York."
"I've been meaning to ask you about that..." Xander said.
"Don't go there, pet," Spike warned with a subvocal growl.
Xander subsided back into his nest. "I think I need coffee," he said. "I'm not sure I can cope with offers of martial arts training from the undead when I'm not even awake." He closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his cushions, as if he was going to go back to sleep. "I think I must be dreaming," he mumbled.
Spike laughed again and Xander could hear him getting to his feet. "You get yourself some coffee. Probably could do with some food inside you too. Soak up the remains of the alcohol. I'm going to go torture a snitch. I won't be late. We'll start your training tonight."
Xander heard the door open and close again, but he didn't move. This was too weird. Maybe just another hour...
*****
In fact it was nearly 5am before Spike returned. By then Xander had drunk most of a pot of coffee, had a very long shower, eaten a meal consisting completely of fried foods and was much more awake. He looked up as Spike closed the door behind him, threw his duster onto the cushionless sofa and came to sit at the kitchen table. Xander poured the last of the coffee into a second mug and shoved it across to him.
Spike picked the mug up with both hands, elbows resting on the table and tilted it in a toast of thanks. He took a large gulp and closed his eyes as if savouring the flavour. "That's better," he said, as he put it back down. "There are some demons who don't taste bad, but there are some..." he shook his head slightly. "Can live on the stuff, but it tastes like shit..."
Xander wasn't sure he really wanted to know that, although part of him was thinking 'better a demon than a human'. He knew what Spike lived off, but he really didn't know what he'd feel about it, if he ever let himself follow the thought through to its conclusion.
Spike looked up at Xander and spoke again, "Too late to start training tonight. But I was thinking as I was coming back... Halloween night, you shot me. You know how use a gun? Or was that sheer luck, too?"
Xander got up and busied himself making another pot of coffee, as he tried to work out how much he wanted to tell. In the end he realised that there was really no point in holding back. Spike did seem serious about teaching him how to look after himself in a fight and the truth was, he did remember, in a sort of second-hand way, a lot of the background training behind soldier guy. In fact on a couple of occasions since then, when he had acted without thinking, he'd even managed to replicate some of those moves, although his muscles had protested the next day.
He turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Halloween. Yeah. It was a whole thing with costume possession. There was a guy. I think Giles knew him." As he said the name aloud, he felt a pang of such intense home sickness wash over him that for a moment he thought he's fall. He shook his head, pulling himself together by main force. "Some sort of devotee of chaos. Something like that. And everybody who got their costume from his shop ended up turning into whatever they'd bought. I bought a toy gun and that was enough to turn me into a battle seasoned sniper." He smiled reminiscently. "Shot you in the leg, didn't I?"
Spike didn't seem annoyed. He merely cocked an eyebrow, inviting more. "Yes I remember," Xander admitted. "I remember drills, regs, ordinance and the command structure. I could give you a guided tour of half a dozen different army bases, home and overseas. And I'm pretty sure I can put together an M-16 in 57 seconds." He walked over to the table and picked up his mug, taking it back to the sink and giving it a rinse to get rid of the dregs. "But I also know that guns don't do shit against vampires."
Spike nodded slowly. "No, they won't kill, but they can hurt like hell. Put a bullet in the right place and it'll sure slow the vampire down." His fingers tapped against the surface of the table as he stared down into his coffee, lost in thought. Eventually he looked up, a sly smile gradually spreading across his face. "Shotguns," he said. "Think you could manage that?"
Xander nodded. "Yeah, sure. And they're different how?"
Spike's smile became a full-blown grin. "You ever seen the damage a blast from both barrels of a shotgun can do? Take your head right off."
Xander found himself smiling back. "That sounds good. I mean... I would like to learn how to fight... I do know the theory... Well some of it... But my body just won't do it."
"Probably just need practice, pet. Could be your brain knows but your muscles don't. We can work on that, too."
They sat up long beyond sunrise while Spike explained how they could turn the basement into a firing range and the kind of moves he thought Xander could learn, given his pseudo military background while Xander joined in enthusiastically, recounting his memories of combat and special ops training. When they eventually separated to their respective corners at around 10am, Xander felt more in charity with Spike than he ever had.
His last thought before he fell asleep was to remember how the night before Spike had said he could leave the factory as long as he intended to come back and how he really should try and find a public call box and phone Giles again. Soon.
Next Part
Right, going shopping now.
Title: The night after the morning before
Part 21 of the Blood on a Sundial series. Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #37 - Devotee
At:
tamingthemuseDisclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 1,658
21. The night after the morning before
Waking up was a slow and uncomfortable process. Xander's body was reluctant, but some instinct buried deep in his brain was insistent. He rolled onto his back and opened his eyes. The room was dark, but he hardly noticed that because the first thing he saw were a pair of yellow eyes hovering in the air next to him, glowing like twin headlights. He let out a gurgling scream and scrambled madly backwards, blankets and cushions shifting under his flailing hands and feet.
The glowing eyes disappeared to be replaced by Spike's voice, "Calm down, pet. It's just me. Hang on, I'll get the light."
There was the sound of boots retreating across the wood floor, then the light above the stove flicked on and Xander could see Spike, dressed and looking ready to go out. He sagged with the loss of sudden tension and drew the blanket back over himself, up to his chin, as he watched Spike return.
Spike squatted down next to him again, this time in his human face. He studied Xander closely. "Looking a bit peaked, love. How you feeling?"
Xander groaned, bringing one hand up to push his hair back off his forehead. It felt sweaty and lank. He rubbed his eyes. "Well since you've now woken me up, I think I can safely say..." He paused. "I really wish you hadn't," he finished, with as much vehemence as he could muster, before subsiding again with another groan. "I think my head's going to fall off," he added pitifully as he began to push the blanket away, preparing to play the martyr. "Okay. I'm getting up."
Spike shoved him back down with a smirk. "Think maybe you'd best stay in, today," he suggested. "I've got to go hunt down that snitch. You don't look like you're in any state for a scrap. Positive liability like that, what with being a target now, an' all."
Even to Xander's foggy mind that sounded not right. He blinked, blankly at Spike. "Target? Why am I a target? I don't want to be a target." Running both hands up over his forehead and through his hair, he attempted to scratch life back into his brain through his skull. "Really... I'm just as happy being overlooked." But he pulled the blanket back over himself, just in case Spike was serious.
Spike snorted with what could have been amusement. "Too late for that mate." He said. "You killed three vampire's last night, including the so-called master of New York. That sort of thing doesn't go unnoticed. There'll be a new master ready to step up, but they'll have to prove themselves. What better way than to kill the human who killed the last master?"
Xander squinted up at Spike. "But it was just luck," he protested. "You shoved the first two at me. And the only reason I got any of them, was because they didn't really notice me. The only reason I got close to the master, was because he was concentrating on you. They took one look at me and knew I wasn't a threat. And I'm really not. The only way I'd ever manage to kill a vampire, would be pure luck." A sudden memory of The Bronze and Jesse's face just before it disintegrated caught Xander unawares and the pain in his head was dwarfed by the pain in his chest. It was so intense that he curled himself up into a ball in an effort to escape it.
Spike didn't appear to notice anything because he continued the conversation, "Doesn't matter. You did it and you were seen to do it. I'll silence Azumar, the little bastard, but if you think the story's not all over the city by now, you're dreaming. And there's no way a sneaky bloody ingrate like him will play it down, if only to explain why the hell he ran away." He rolled backwards so that he was sitting on the floor with his knees bent up in front of him, leaning on his bracing arms. "Hmm... looks like I'd better teach you a few moves. Didn't drag you 3,000 miles just to have you get yourself murdered in New York."
"I've been meaning to ask you about that..." Xander said.
"Don't go there, pet," Spike warned with a subvocal growl.
Xander subsided back into his nest. "I think I need coffee," he said. "I'm not sure I can cope with offers of martial arts training from the undead when I'm not even awake." He closed his eyes and snuggled deeper into his cushions, as if he was going to go back to sleep. "I think I must be dreaming," he mumbled.
Spike laughed again and Xander could hear him getting to his feet. "You get yourself some coffee. Probably could do with some food inside you too. Soak up the remains of the alcohol. I'm going to go torture a snitch. I won't be late. We'll start your training tonight."
Xander heard the door open and close again, but he didn't move. This was too weird. Maybe just another hour...
*****
In fact it was nearly 5am before Spike returned. By then Xander had drunk most of a pot of coffee, had a very long shower, eaten a meal consisting completely of fried foods and was much more awake. He looked up as Spike closed the door behind him, threw his duster onto the cushionless sofa and came to sit at the kitchen table. Xander poured the last of the coffee into a second mug and shoved it across to him.
Spike picked the mug up with both hands, elbows resting on the table and tilted it in a toast of thanks. He took a large gulp and closed his eyes as if savouring the flavour. "That's better," he said, as he put it back down. "There are some demons who don't taste bad, but there are some..." he shook his head slightly. "Can live on the stuff, but it tastes like shit..."
Xander wasn't sure he really wanted to know that, although part of him was thinking 'better a demon than a human'. He knew what Spike lived off, but he really didn't know what he'd feel about it, if he ever let himself follow the thought through to its conclusion.
Spike looked up at Xander and spoke again, "Too late to start training tonight. But I was thinking as I was coming back... Halloween night, you shot me. You know how use a gun? Or was that sheer luck, too?"
Xander got up and busied himself making another pot of coffee, as he tried to work out how much he wanted to tell. In the end he realised that there was really no point in holding back. Spike did seem serious about teaching him how to look after himself in a fight and the truth was, he did remember, in a sort of second-hand way, a lot of the background training behind soldier guy. In fact on a couple of occasions since then, when he had acted without thinking, he'd even managed to replicate some of those moves, although his muscles had protested the next day.
He turned and leaned back against the kitchen counter. "Halloween. Yeah. It was a whole thing with costume possession. There was a guy. I think Giles knew him." As he said the name aloud, he felt a pang of such intense home sickness wash over him that for a moment he thought he's fall. He shook his head, pulling himself together by main force. "Some sort of devotee of chaos. Something like that. And everybody who got their costume from his shop ended up turning into whatever they'd bought. I bought a toy gun and that was enough to turn me into a battle seasoned sniper." He smiled reminiscently. "Shot you in the leg, didn't I?"
Spike didn't seem annoyed. He merely cocked an eyebrow, inviting more. "Yes I remember," Xander admitted. "I remember drills, regs, ordinance and the command structure. I could give you a guided tour of half a dozen different army bases, home and overseas. And I'm pretty sure I can put together an M-16 in 57 seconds." He walked over to the table and picked up his mug, taking it back to the sink and giving it a rinse to get rid of the dregs. "But I also know that guns don't do shit against vampires."
Spike nodded slowly. "No, they won't kill, but they can hurt like hell. Put a bullet in the right place and it'll sure slow the vampire down." His fingers tapped against the surface of the table as he stared down into his coffee, lost in thought. Eventually he looked up, a sly smile gradually spreading across his face. "Shotguns," he said. "Think you could manage that?"
Xander nodded. "Yeah, sure. And they're different how?"
Spike's smile became a full-blown grin. "You ever seen the damage a blast from both barrels of a shotgun can do? Take your head right off."
Xander found himself smiling back. "That sounds good. I mean... I would like to learn how to fight... I do know the theory... Well some of it... But my body just won't do it."
"Probably just need practice, pet. Could be your brain knows but your muscles don't. We can work on that, too."
They sat up long beyond sunrise while Spike explained how they could turn the basement into a firing range and the kind of moves he thought Xander could learn, given his pseudo military background while Xander joined in enthusiastically, recounting his memories of combat and special ops training. When they eventually separated to their respective corners at around 10am, Xander felt more in charity with Spike than he ever had.
His last thought before he fell asleep was to remember how the night before Spike had said he could leave the factory as long as he intended to come back and how he really should try and find a public call box and phone Giles again. Soon.
Next Part
Right, going shopping now.
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bonding is starting...
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I like that Spike has finally started to see what's under his nose. Of course his motives for bringing out Xander's latent talents are anything but altruistic, but if bonding over a shotgun is what it takes, then I'm all for it. However Spike's "Don't go there, pet," is a very nice reminder that this is still a very unequal relationship.
Very nice update, love, and yes, the boy needs to keep Giles up to date - and test the limits of the spell.
happy shopping
s xx
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Yep, only our boy could end up in this situation... Do you think it might have something to do with us? *g*
Yeah, I think Spike's motives are becoming clearer - sort of thick fog now, rather than total black-out...
I'm glad you still like it. 'happy shopping' Err... isn't that a contradiction in terms? *g*
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Well, duh. I feel really stupid for not having seen that one coming.
I would very much enjoy seeing Xander stretch and develop his soldier guy residuals. *g* But I also like how you continue to remind us, week after week, of the nature of Spike... and how naturally Spike does this in his conversations and his mannerisms. It isn't forced at all but very easy and very rhythmic with whatever else is going on that week. I just love that.
"Target? Why am I a target? I don't want to be a target."
This whole paragraph is fantastic (although I particularly adore this bit of dialogue). It's just so typically Xander, the slightly mussed, slightly dazed and redundant, yet wholly correct in his assumptions self that we've all grown to adore since 1997. You've captured him wonderfully here.
Great chapter, really well done. Looking forward to next week!
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*grin*
I'm glad to hear that you still see Spike for what he is. I really don't want him to turn fuzzy. *g*
And yes, that line of Xander's was one of my favourites, too. Along with - I'm going to go torture a snitch. I won't be late.
Thank you for your lovely comments.
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I have a vague idea, but the really nice thing about writing this one is that it can be knocked totally off in a new direction by a randomly generated prompt.
And I was flattered to bits when
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Thank you for commenting.
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I'm glad you enjoyed this. I post each Saturday in response to the weekly prompt, so updates are pretty regular.
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But you write it well, and me likes. :D *Thumbs up* lol.
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Not really slash, this (well not yet) *thinks* Maybe never. (That's just a tease for anybody else who reads this comment) *grin*
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If it's really, really good I'll get sucked in, BtVs or not. lol.
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The boys seem to be coming closer and closer to each other. I love it when they start out with friendship and it just naturally develops into more. Just lovely!
Thanks for the lovely words, C
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I think they are still sort of circling each other... well Xander is circling. He's not ready to call Spike a friend yet. But he is learning to live with him.
Thanks for reading and commenting.
*looks at time* Got to go to work *groan* I'll catch up with you soon. *g*
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I love the idea of training, and Xander clarifying the military mental overlay was interesting. That came through a couple times in canon, though it was pretty much dropped in later seasons. Now it would still be fresh in Xander's mind, so it's delightful that Spike's going to use it as a starting place.
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I love a competent Xander and soldier Xander is so damned attractive, I had to indulge him a bit. I'm very glad you liked.