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thismazTitle: Unfriendly fire
Part 23 of the Blood on a Sundial series. Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #39 - Inertia - ref Wikipedia - In an isolated system, a body at rest will remain at rest... unless disturbed by an unbalanced force.
At:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Warnings: Irresponsible use of firearms. Don't try this at home.
Word Count: 2,245
23. Unfriendly fire
"No." Spike sighed. "That move never works. It's too obvious." Xander lay on his back staring up at Spike standing above him, legs spread either side of Xander's thighs. Xander's back ached from the throw that had sent him crashing onto the mats. He managed a grimace and accepted Spike's hand to pull him back to his feet. "You keep trying for it," Spike added. "But think about it. It's instinct to protect your balls. That only ever works in cartoons." He paused and Xander knew he was thinking about the fight with Heinrich's goons. "Mostly," he added. "Anyway, you need to be a lot faster than that, and your opponent needs to be a lot stupider than me. Any normal man will always bring his knees together, as soon as he sees your muscles twitch. You ever let anyone catch you there?"
"No, I haven't," Xander admitted. He leant forward, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. After a moment he looked up at Spike from under his hair. "Okay. So when you say think...?"
"Let's go back to basics," Spike suggested. "How to fall..."
Xander grimaced. "Er... I've had lots of practice at that. You could call me the king of falling."
"Falling properly," Spike interrupted, sternly. "Falling so you don't hurt yourself. Falling so you can get up again." Xander straightened under the verbal whip and nodded to show he was paying attention. "Right," Spike said. "So, when I do this..."
*****
Spike stood in the middle of the mats, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He raised his arms in front of him, hands flat, palms up, and twitched his fingers with a 'come and get me' motion. Xander ignored the taunt and concentrated on his own stance, keeping out of reach and dancing lightly from side to side, trying to spot an opening which never seemed to come. Eventually Spike dropped his hands and his shoulders in apparent disgust. He turned and began to walk away. Xander didn't hesitate. Three running steps and a leap and his forearm was around Spike's neck and he was clinging onto Spike's back for dear life.
At exactly the same moment that he realised that attempting to strangle a vampire would probably not be as effective as it would be on a human and he began to pull back his free arm to punch the side of Spike's head, Spike heaved his shoulders as he bent forwards, tipping him and he landed once more, flat on his back.
Spike spun on one foot and dropped so he was sitting on Xander's chest. He grabbed Xander's wrists and held them firmly still, smirking down into Xander's face and shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Oldest trick in the book, mate." He stood up so he was straddling Xander's legs and hauled on his imprisoned wrists, dragging him back to his feet. "You don't have a clue how to attack. What was that watcher thinking, not to train you at all?" He sighed. "Right. We'll start with defensive moves. Maybe you'll learn how to attack, by being attacked."
*****
After a couple of hours, which Xander mostly spent looking up at Spike from the floor, Spike walked away and picked up the black duffel bag he'd brought down from the apartment with them. Lifting it up onto one of the shelves he unzipped it, spreading the flaps to allow him to pull out a double-barrelled shotgun and a couple of handguns, which he placed on the shelf above his head. Boxes of shotgun shells and other ammunition followed. Xander wasn't close enough to read what was written on the boxes but he guessed they weren't small calibre. He wandered closer, peering up in an effort to see exactly what Spike had brought. Meanwhile Spike shoved the empty bag aside, picked up the shotgun again and turned to face Xander. "Starter for one, pet," he said tossing the gun across to Xander, who caught it automatically. "Let's see you load that."
Xander hefted the shotgun thoughtfully, assessing its weight and inspected the guard, trigger and safety catch. He broke the breach and saw that it was unloaded. Closing it again he raised it to his shoulder turning slowly, aiming along the barrel until he came to a stop pointing directly at Spike's face. "Boom," he said, pulling the trigger and pretending to react to the recoil.
Spike merely raised an eyebrow and reached up to pull down the box of shells. Xander dropped the shotgun from his shoulder and broke it open again. Taking two shells from Spike's hands he shoved them into the breach and turning carefully away snapped the gun closed. Once again he raised it to his shoulder and began to swing around in a circle. Before he'd got anywhere near pointing towards Spike, although the dream was tempting, his body was already rebelling and he knew he couldn't do it. Dropping his arms he hugged the gun across his chest and sighed.
Spike's smile was faint but smug as he walked across the room to the far wall. He grabbed an old pallet which had been too broken to be recycled into shelves or a part of the firing range and leant it up against the wall. He came back and stood behind Xander. "See if you can hit the top left corner," he instructed.
Xander carefully lifted the gun again, this time noticing the finer details of its balance, and manipulated the safety. "I've never used a shotgun before," he said. "I don't think they're very accurate, are they?"
"Let's see." Spike suggested. "Never really got into firearms, myself." Xander raised the gun, sighted on the pallet and pulled the trigger. The sound of the explosion was nearly deafening in the enclosed space and Xander was sent staggering by the recoil. Spike's hands caught his shoulders steadying him. "More power than you expected, eh?" The bastard was laughing.
He raised it again and this time he ran his forefinger backwards and forwards across the trigger, judging the pressure. Once again he aimed, thinking about what the recoil had done to him. The explosion was still deafening and the recoil was still hard, but this time he was ready for it and his body eased with it, by instinct. He raised his head and looked across the room. There was a rather large impact mark in the freshly painted white wall just above head height and another in the middle of the broken pallet. He hrumphed in disgust.
Accepting two more shells from Spike, he reloaded. Lifting the gun again, he took careful aim. This time it didn't sound so loud. Or maybe he was going deaf. He looked up. The top left-hand corner of the pallet was missing. He smiled. "Looks like this young dog remembers its old tricks."
Spike smirked back and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice one." He headed for the door. "You have a play with that. I'm going out." He pulled the door open, pausing just before he left the room and looked back. "And don't touch the handguns. I'll know if you do." With that he left.
Xander aimed the gun at the door. "Boom," he muttered again. Then he turned back to his original and Xander-safe target.
*****
Even after five days of intensive training, Xander still seemed to spend only two minutes on his feet before Spike was pulling him back up from the mats. He ached in places he hadn't known existed before and had more bruises than a lifetime of Larry and Co had ever inflicted. But at least he was managing two minutes now. That was better than at the beginning of the week.
Spike's hand came down on his shoulder, jarring tender muscles and joints. "You're improving. But you're gonna need to do better, before you can face the new master." He frowned. "Or even his lowest minion.
Xander straightened up, still breathing heavily. "About that..."
Spike shook his head. "Not a chance. You went and got yourself noticed. If they weren't too busy fighting amongst themselves, they have come for you already. Think yourself lucky you've got time." He paused and appraised Xander. "Right then. We'll take a break." But before Xander could relax he added, "Let's have some fun. Come on."
He grabbed Xander's arm and pulled him over to the makeshift firing range, handing him the twin handguns. Xander's original idea of a short but straight shooting range had developed during its construction, into something far more complex. Spike had taken up his idea of a wall and between them they had built an obstacle course with targets on ropes and pulleys that Spike hauled into view as Xander progressed around narrow corners and under and over the obstacles in the way. Xander suspected that Spike came down to the basement and moved things around while Xander was asleep, because the targets came at him from all angles as he made his way through the course. But here he had confidence. The memories of his soldier alter ego took over during this exercise and he found that instinct meant he rarely missed. When he had his guns and was firing two handed, his doubts fell away and his body knew what to do, as his mind went cool and calm.
*****
From somewhere Xander pulled a move which blocked the sweep of Spike's leg and although Spike broke contact and re-established his balance and position, Xander knew that he had found something which connected his body to his inherited memories. It was still imperfect, but there was a tantalising promise of more to come.
*****
When Spike grabbed him, instead of fighting back, for the first time Xander rolled with the move so that for a moment Spike's balance was gone. He hooked a foot behind Spike's ankle shifting his weight so his shin became a fulcrum, his body applying the load. For what felt like a long moment they hung there, unmoving, and Xander began to fear his play would fail. He leaned further into Spike, applying more pressure and suddenly, as if he'd somehow pushed them past some tipping point, they crashed together to the floor. He landed in a sprawl half on top of Spike, losing his advantage. While Spike pushed him away and rolled back onto his feet with all the natural grace of the predator, Xander lay still, exaggerating his panting, arms spread to either side.
"Come on mate," Spike called. "You were doing better there. Get up." He stepped forward to offer Xander his hand, as he had a hundred times before. Xander raised his head weakly, sighed in apparent resignation and lifted one arm. Spike grabbed it and stepped back to haul Xander upright. But before he could begin to exert any force Xander brought his right foot up and slammed it squarely into Spike's crotch sending him staggering backwards. Xander bounced to his feet, crowing victory as Spike lay curled up on the floor, clutching his balls protectively, half into gameface.
Looking down at him Xander's grin stretched into a full-blown laugh and he leant forwards bracing his hands on his knees as the laughter interfered with him catching his breath. Eventually Spike raised his own head and began to uncurl with a groan, although he didn't attempt to stand. He took in the sight of the madly laughing human and a reluctant grin began to spread across his own face, which slipped back into its human mask.
"Never works, huh?" Xander gasped. "I don't know about that. But man, you should've seen your face." And he began to laugh again.
The laughter appeared to be infectious because very soon Spike was laughing too and Xander flopped down onto the floor next to him. Eventually Spike managed to gasp a few words. "Proud of you, pet." He said. "Proud of you."
*****
As the days went by, Xander gradually became aware that he felt easier in his body than he ever had before. For the first time in as long as he could remember his muscles seemed to be working with him, rather than sabotaging him with their awkward reluctance to do what he wanted.
*****
Xander had discovered that the best time to ask questions and hope of a straight answer was at the end of their 'day'. He pushed his empty dinner plate aside, picked up his soda and took a sip. "Why do you want this book anyway?" he asked. "You said it was for Drusilla, but that was a lie. So what's it for?"
Spike looked up from his glass of whiskey. He hesitated but then shrugged. "Old Heinrich was right about what I wanted. There's a thing called the Gem of Amara. Sort of what you'd call a Holy Grail. I aim to find it."
"Why? What does it do?"
Spike looked amused. "Who says it does anything? Maybe it's just worth a lot of money?"
"Somehow I don't think you'd be interested in something, just because it was worth a lot of money."
"I don't know," Spike said with a leer and a significant look. "I might be."
Xander straightened in alarm. "What does that mean? Am I worth money? Is that why you're keeping me?"
Spike smirked. "Didn't say that did I?" He slouched back in his chair and shrugged again. "Don't worry, pet. I was just winding you up."
Not fully reassured, Xander asked, "And why should I believe that, instead of what you said before?"
"No reason at all." He stood. "You'll believe what you want to believe. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"
Xander didn't sleep well that day.
Next Part
Part 23 of the Blood on a Sundial series. Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #39 - Inertia - ref Wikipedia - In an isolated system, a body at rest will remain at rest... unless disturbed by an unbalanced force.
At:
tamingthemuseDisclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Warnings: Irresponsible use of firearms. Don't try this at home.
Word Count: 2,245
23. Unfriendly fire
"No." Spike sighed. "That move never works. It's too obvious." Xander lay on his back staring up at Spike standing above him, legs spread either side of Xander's thighs. Xander's back ached from the throw that had sent him crashing onto the mats. He managed a grimace and accepted Spike's hand to pull him back to his feet. "You keep trying for it," Spike added. "But think about it. It's instinct to protect your balls. That only ever works in cartoons." He paused and Xander knew he was thinking about the fight with Heinrich's goons. "Mostly," he added. "Anyway, you need to be a lot faster than that, and your opponent needs to be a lot stupider than me. Any normal man will always bring his knees together, as soon as he sees your muscles twitch. You ever let anyone catch you there?"
"No, I haven't," Xander admitted. He leant forward, hands on his knees, to catch his breath. After a moment he looked up at Spike from under his hair. "Okay. So when you say think...?"
"Let's go back to basics," Spike suggested. "How to fall..."
Xander grimaced. "Er... I've had lots of practice at that. You could call me the king of falling."
"Falling properly," Spike interrupted, sternly. "Falling so you don't hurt yourself. Falling so you can get up again." Xander straightened under the verbal whip and nodded to show he was paying attention. "Right," Spike said. "So, when I do this..."
*****
Spike stood in the middle of the mats, bouncing lightly on the balls of his feet. He raised his arms in front of him, hands flat, palms up, and twitched his fingers with a 'come and get me' motion. Xander ignored the taunt and concentrated on his own stance, keeping out of reach and dancing lightly from side to side, trying to spot an opening which never seemed to come. Eventually Spike dropped his hands and his shoulders in apparent disgust. He turned and began to walk away. Xander didn't hesitate. Three running steps and a leap and his forearm was around Spike's neck and he was clinging onto Spike's back for dear life.
At exactly the same moment that he realised that attempting to strangle a vampire would probably not be as effective as it would be on a human and he began to pull back his free arm to punch the side of Spike's head, Spike heaved his shoulders as he bent forwards, tipping him and he landed once more, flat on his back.
Spike spun on one foot and dropped so he was sitting on Xander's chest. He grabbed Xander's wrists and held them firmly still, smirking down into Xander's face and shaking his head in mock disapproval. "Oldest trick in the book, mate." He stood up so he was straddling Xander's legs and hauled on his imprisoned wrists, dragging him back to his feet. "You don't have a clue how to attack. What was that watcher thinking, not to train you at all?" He sighed. "Right. We'll start with defensive moves. Maybe you'll learn how to attack, by being attacked."
*****
After a couple of hours, which Xander mostly spent looking up at Spike from the floor, Spike walked away and picked up the black duffel bag he'd brought down from the apartment with them. Lifting it up onto one of the shelves he unzipped it, spreading the flaps to allow him to pull out a double-barrelled shotgun and a couple of handguns, which he placed on the shelf above his head. Boxes of shotgun shells and other ammunition followed. Xander wasn't close enough to read what was written on the boxes but he guessed they weren't small calibre. He wandered closer, peering up in an effort to see exactly what Spike had brought. Meanwhile Spike shoved the empty bag aside, picked up the shotgun again and turned to face Xander. "Starter for one, pet," he said tossing the gun across to Xander, who caught it automatically. "Let's see you load that."
Xander hefted the shotgun thoughtfully, assessing its weight and inspected the guard, trigger and safety catch. He broke the breach and saw that it was unloaded. Closing it again he raised it to his shoulder turning slowly, aiming along the barrel until he came to a stop pointing directly at Spike's face. "Boom," he said, pulling the trigger and pretending to react to the recoil.
Spike merely raised an eyebrow and reached up to pull down the box of shells. Xander dropped the shotgun from his shoulder and broke it open again. Taking two shells from Spike's hands he shoved them into the breach and turning carefully away snapped the gun closed. Once again he raised it to his shoulder and began to swing around in a circle. Before he'd got anywhere near pointing towards Spike, although the dream was tempting, his body was already rebelling and he knew he couldn't do it. Dropping his arms he hugged the gun across his chest and sighed.
Spike's smile was faint but smug as he walked across the room to the far wall. He grabbed an old pallet which had been too broken to be recycled into shelves or a part of the firing range and leant it up against the wall. He came back and stood behind Xander. "See if you can hit the top left corner," he instructed.
Xander carefully lifted the gun again, this time noticing the finer details of its balance, and manipulated the safety. "I've never used a shotgun before," he said. "I don't think they're very accurate, are they?"
"Let's see." Spike suggested. "Never really got into firearms, myself." Xander raised the gun, sighted on the pallet and pulled the trigger. The sound of the explosion was nearly deafening in the enclosed space and Xander was sent staggering by the recoil. Spike's hands caught his shoulders steadying him. "More power than you expected, eh?" The bastard was laughing.
He raised it again and this time he ran his forefinger backwards and forwards across the trigger, judging the pressure. Once again he aimed, thinking about what the recoil had done to him. The explosion was still deafening and the recoil was still hard, but this time he was ready for it and his body eased with it, by instinct. He raised his head and looked across the room. There was a rather large impact mark in the freshly painted white wall just above head height and another in the middle of the broken pallet. He hrumphed in disgust.
Accepting two more shells from Spike, he reloaded. Lifting the gun again, he took careful aim. This time it didn't sound so loud. Or maybe he was going deaf. He looked up. The top left-hand corner of the pallet was missing. He smiled. "Looks like this young dog remembers its old tricks."
Spike smirked back and clapped him on the shoulder. "Nice one." He headed for the door. "You have a play with that. I'm going out." He pulled the door open, pausing just before he left the room and looked back. "And don't touch the handguns. I'll know if you do." With that he left.
Xander aimed the gun at the door. "Boom," he muttered again. Then he turned back to his original and Xander-safe target.
*****
Even after five days of intensive training, Xander still seemed to spend only two minutes on his feet before Spike was pulling him back up from the mats. He ached in places he hadn't known existed before and had more bruises than a lifetime of Larry and Co had ever inflicted. But at least he was managing two minutes now. That was better than at the beginning of the week.
Spike's hand came down on his shoulder, jarring tender muscles and joints. "You're improving. But you're gonna need to do better, before you can face the new master." He frowned. "Or even his lowest minion.
Xander straightened up, still breathing heavily. "About that..."
Spike shook his head. "Not a chance. You went and got yourself noticed. If they weren't too busy fighting amongst themselves, they have come for you already. Think yourself lucky you've got time." He paused and appraised Xander. "Right then. We'll take a break." But before Xander could relax he added, "Let's have some fun. Come on."
He grabbed Xander's arm and pulled him over to the makeshift firing range, handing him the twin handguns. Xander's original idea of a short but straight shooting range had developed during its construction, into something far more complex. Spike had taken up his idea of a wall and between them they had built an obstacle course with targets on ropes and pulleys that Spike hauled into view as Xander progressed around narrow corners and under and over the obstacles in the way. Xander suspected that Spike came down to the basement and moved things around while Xander was asleep, because the targets came at him from all angles as he made his way through the course. But here he had confidence. The memories of his soldier alter ego took over during this exercise and he found that instinct meant he rarely missed. When he had his guns and was firing two handed, his doubts fell away and his body knew what to do, as his mind went cool and calm.
*****
From somewhere Xander pulled a move which blocked the sweep of Spike's leg and although Spike broke contact and re-established his balance and position, Xander knew that he had found something which connected his body to his inherited memories. It was still imperfect, but there was a tantalising promise of more to come.
*****
When Spike grabbed him, instead of fighting back, for the first time Xander rolled with the move so that for a moment Spike's balance was gone. He hooked a foot behind Spike's ankle shifting his weight so his shin became a fulcrum, his body applying the load. For what felt like a long moment they hung there, unmoving, and Xander began to fear his play would fail. He leaned further into Spike, applying more pressure and suddenly, as if he'd somehow pushed them past some tipping point, they crashed together to the floor. He landed in a sprawl half on top of Spike, losing his advantage. While Spike pushed him away and rolled back onto his feet with all the natural grace of the predator, Xander lay still, exaggerating his panting, arms spread to either side.
"Come on mate," Spike called. "You were doing better there. Get up." He stepped forward to offer Xander his hand, as he had a hundred times before. Xander raised his head weakly, sighed in apparent resignation and lifted one arm. Spike grabbed it and stepped back to haul Xander upright. But before he could begin to exert any force Xander brought his right foot up and slammed it squarely into Spike's crotch sending him staggering backwards. Xander bounced to his feet, crowing victory as Spike lay curled up on the floor, clutching his balls protectively, half into gameface.
Looking down at him Xander's grin stretched into a full-blown laugh and he leant forwards bracing his hands on his knees as the laughter interfered with him catching his breath. Eventually Spike raised his own head and began to uncurl with a groan, although he didn't attempt to stand. He took in the sight of the madly laughing human and a reluctant grin began to spread across his own face, which slipped back into its human mask.
"Never works, huh?" Xander gasped. "I don't know about that. But man, you should've seen your face." And he began to laugh again.
The laughter appeared to be infectious because very soon Spike was laughing too and Xander flopped down onto the floor next to him. Eventually Spike managed to gasp a few words. "Proud of you, pet." He said. "Proud of you."
*****
As the days went by, Xander gradually became aware that he felt easier in his body than he ever had before. For the first time in as long as he could remember his muscles seemed to be working with him, rather than sabotaging him with their awkward reluctance to do what he wanted.
*****
Xander had discovered that the best time to ask questions and hope of a straight answer was at the end of their 'day'. He pushed his empty dinner plate aside, picked up his soda and took a sip. "Why do you want this book anyway?" he asked. "You said it was for Drusilla, but that was a lie. So what's it for?"
Spike looked up from his glass of whiskey. He hesitated but then shrugged. "Old Heinrich was right about what I wanted. There's a thing called the Gem of Amara. Sort of what you'd call a Holy Grail. I aim to find it."
"Why? What does it do?"
Spike looked amused. "Who says it does anything? Maybe it's just worth a lot of money?"
"Somehow I don't think you'd be interested in something, just because it was worth a lot of money."
"I don't know," Spike said with a leer and a significant look. "I might be."
Xander straightened in alarm. "What does that mean? Am I worth money? Is that why you're keeping me?"
Spike smirked. "Didn't say that did I?" He slouched back in his chair and shrugged again. "Don't worry, pet. I was just winding you up."
Not fully reassured, Xander asked, "And why should I believe that, instead of what you said before?"
"No reason at all." He stood. "You'll believe what you want to believe. You'll just have to wait and see, won't you?"
Xander didn't sleep well that day.
Next Part
