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thismaz.
Title: A dateless bargain
Part 36 of the Blood on a Sundial series.
Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #52 - Lock Pick
At:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
tamingthemuse
Summary: Spike, Xander, AU in Season 2. We are talking slow burn here, people.
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 2,510
36. A dateless bargain
"Spike was awesome." Jimmy's voice carried a mixture of excitement and awe. "He was all kicks and punches and, dude, you should have seen the bodies flying all over the place." As he talked, he mimed out some of the moves, but when he came closer and seemed about to try and drag Xander up to join in, Xander picked up the fully assembled gun from his side and cocked it. Jimmy drew back and whether it was a natural movement on his part, or a response to the gun, almost but not quite pointing at him, Xander didn't know. Regardless, he continued his tale, "He got me out because I wasn't in such a good way by then. But I tell you, man, it's not over, not by a long chalk, it's not."
Returned to his task of cleaning the other gun Xander nodded. "Yeah, he can fight." He wasn't too sure why he had Jimmy's company. It had not yet been dark outside when he came downstairs and Jimmy had never been up and about before Spike, at least, not as far as Xander had noticed. Xander had been in the basement making up some more shells for his shotgun, but he'd soon been distracted by his new Colt 45s. They were beautiful. They felt so right in his hands. Prettier than the Smith & Wessons they'd seen, he was looking forward to testing them, once Spike was awake. Waking a sleeping vampire by shooting at targets in his basement was probably not such a good idea. But why Jimmy had joined him and why he seemed to want to talk, had Xander puzzled.
He kept one wary eye on the young vampire as he reassembled his weapon, but Jimmy didn't seem interested in snacking off him. He paced back and forth across the mats, arms waving with more enthusiasm than Xander could ever remember seeing, although his contact with Jimmy had been strictly limited and always under Spike's watchful eye. "I tell you, man, I'm not going to stand around and let them behave like that to my Sire. Scum like that should think themselves lucky he even goes to their house. They should be treating him with respect. He deserves that. I mean, he's old, man. And any master who lives that long... He's like the oldest vampire ever."
Xander smirked to himself, remembering the real Master with his wrinkly skin and piggy face. And Angel. Hell, even Drusilla had been older than Spike was now. It was obvious Spike was not teaching Jimmy any vampire history. He remembered the soft tone in Spike's voice, when Xander found them asleep together. Maybe he'd been doing other things. Maybe he didn't see Jimmy that way, whatever way that was. Studying the vampire, Xander had to admit that Jimmy was pretty. His face had fined out in the weeks since his death, so his cheekbones were more visible, like he'd lost his puppy fat. He looked like the grad student he had been in life, with a fresh faced innocence, in spite of his pallor. Xander hefted his reassembled gun. Personally, he preferred being able to fight for himself. He placed the Colt carefully in it's box but kept the other, loaded one, close.
Picking up the remaining one of his original pair, he began dismantling it. Jimmy had moved on to a description of the fate deserved by anyone who didn't grant Spike his due respect. Xander wanted to laugh and luckily Jimmy mistook his snort of amusement for approval. "Well, you know how it should be, man. I mean, you follow him. You fight for him. Because you recognise how strong he is, how he deserves your respect." The gun was pretty badly carboned up, but it didn't look like it had been damaged by Spike's experiment. Xander set to cleaning out the barrel. "He must trust you, too." Jimmy's voice was wistful. "I mean, he gave you those guns and he lets you sleep upstairs." His tone brightened. "But I tell you, man, I'm going to be up there too. Soon as I prove myself. I'll be up there in that fancy room," he smirked at Xander, "and maybe you'll be down with the car, like that guy Spike took prisoner for a while." His forehead creased thoughtfully. "What happened to him anyway, did Spike eat him?"
Sighting down the barrel, Xander decided it was clean enough. He glanced up at Jimmy as he picked up the breach mechanism. "No, we let him go."
Jimmy's face fell. "Oh. Oh well, I'm sure Spike had good reasons for that. He must have." He paused in thought and apparently came up blank. "Er, do you know what they were?"
Taking pity, Xander smiled. "He took a message back to the people who sent him. And we needed him alive to do it. But I'm sure if it hadn't been for that, your Sire would have drained every drop."
Bouncing back to happiness, Jimmy grinned. "Yeah, yeah, that's right. He would. If he'd had more time. Because Spike would never let a watcher escape with his life, normally. He's death to them. The slayer of slayers. Did you know he's killed two?"
Xander nodded his recognition of that fact as he began to snap the gun back together. Maybe he'd mount it on the test rig they'd built for Spike's experiment. The Sarge objected to a potentially unsafe firearm lying around. It should be okay now it was clean, but better safe than sorry. He looked across at the rig.
In that way he did, that involved no word, the Sarge had insisted that Xander not actually hold the gun, when Spike pulled out his wooden bullets. So they'd mounted the guns in a vice and activating the triggers by means of a length of wire and a few pulleys. The first shot had been a success, the wooden bullet doing commendable damage to the target, before splintering against the wall behind and Spike had been gleeful. But the second had resulted in the breach exploding, scattering shrapnel across the room and putting a big dent in the wall behind the workbench, about where Xander's head would have been, if he'd been holding the gun himself. So that had been the end of that and the Sarge had sent him a smug sense of vindication. Xander had strung some of the remaining, unused rounds on a leather thong and now they hung around his neck like the lion tooth necklace he had envied Jungle Jake having, as he fought the poachers and treasure hunters in Xander's childhood comic books.
Reassembling the cleaned gun and putting it down, he picked up the loaded one and, getting up carefully, walked over to the ammunition shelf. Grabbing a box, he went back to the workbench and turned to face Jimmy as he loaded the clip with standard, non wooden rounds. Jimmy watched him. "What you doing, man?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered the gun in Xander's hand and the one on the bench by his side.
"Just going to take a couple of test shots. See if the wooden bullets did any permanent damage. See if the breech is still solid. It looks okay, but I think the wood expanded too fast and blocked the barrel in the other one. I've cleaned this one now, but I want to be sure it's good." He placed it in the special mount he'd fashioned, in the vice, and attached the trigger wire. "Go stand over there, out of the way," he instructed. Once Jimmy had withdrawn to the far side of the room, Xander climbed behind the wall of the firing range, wire in hand. Bracing himself, he gave a tug and the explosion reverberated around the room. It was only after he shook his head to clear the echoes that he remembered that Spike was still asleep upstairs. Probably not any more. However the gun looked to be okay and the bullet had even hit the target. Xander grinned to himself and stood up as Jimmy started to move. "Let's try that again," he suggested.
Jimmy backed up. "How many bullets does that thing hold?" he asked.
"Eight," Xander replied. "Seven in the clip, one in the chamber. Now, get back." Five more shots and the gun was still in one piece. He picked up his own gun as he watched Jimmy approach the workbench.
"You know what?" Jimmy asked, rhetorically. "I think that might be just what I want." He reached out and began to unwind the vice, pulling the gun free.
Xander raised his own weapon. "Leave that alone."
Jimmy smiled. "You can't kill me with that," he pointed out smugly. Xander lowered his gun, recognising that he really didn't want to shoot, not even to maim. Not Jimmy.
Turning the gun over in his hands, Jimmy worked out where his various fingers went and struck a pose, feet apart, knees slightly bent, arms stretched out in front of him, pointing it right at Xander and Xander felt a sudden conviction that Jimmy didn't share his own scruples about shooting someone he sort of knew. He straightened slowly, both hand raised, palms facing outwards, his gun hanging loosely from his fingers. "Err, gently now, put the gun down." Jimmy didn't move. "Put the gun down, Jimmy. Spike would really not be pleased if you hurt me. So, just put the gun down."
Jimmy's smile was hard and feral. "But if you have an accident... I'll get to move upstairs even sooner." He didn't shoot though, instead he grabbed the box of ammunition off the bench and began backing up, towards the door. "I just want the gun, man. I won't hurt Spike's pet human. But I'm going to prove to him that I'm as good as anyone." He nodded in approval as Xander stayed still. "So I just want the gun." Reaching the door, he fumbled behind his back, searching for the knob, then pulled it open and backed through, never removing his aim from Xander's chest. When the door finally closed behind him, Xander collapsed to his knees in a heap of panting breaths and released tension and buried his head in the crook of his arms, his fingers flexing through his hair.
By the time Spike wandered downstairs, still blinking sleep from his eyes and hugging a mug of coffee, fifteen minutes later, he had pulled himself back together. On hearing what Jimmy was up to, Spike sighed, then shrugged. "Better go find the stupid bastard, I suppose. You wait here," he said as he headed out. "When I find him, I'm going to skin him alive and chain him up in the store room for a week." Since Xander believed that might well be the literal truth, he was glad he hadn't mentioned Jimmy's delusions of moving upstairs. If they were delusions and not promises made late at night. Shaking his head to clear it of that image, he took his new pump-action shotgun and his beautiful new Colts, and went to spend some quality time in the garage with the car, the front door and too many thoughts.
Spike returned six hours later and was talking even as he walked in and slammed the door shut behind him. "That bitch is boasting about taking out the watchers," he fumed. "As if she even knew they were in town before I told her. As if she thought it up herself." He began to pace around the garage, picking things up from the shelves at random and putting them down again, without looking at them. "Presumptuous, undisciplined, under-educated nonentity. Wouldn't know a watcher if he walked up and kicked her in the shins. Blasted woman! She's got something to do with it. I know it. Can feel it in my water."
Xander let him pace, piecing the story together from Spike's half sentences. Eventually he interrupted, "So you didn't find Jimmy?"
Swinging to face him Spike growled through fangs and pulled back lips. His eyes glowed yellow under heavy ridges and his voice distorted by the change. "No. He wasn't at Duke's and hadn't been there. I tried the other houses, too. No sign." He shook his head and his face shifted back to human. "He obviously didn't come back on his own?" Xander shook his head. "Bugger!" He stopped suddenly and took a long, deep breath which appeared to calm him. "After trailing around town half the night, I'm not best pleased," he announced. "Tomorrow night... we're going out. And you can bring your guns and give them a proper test drive. Meanwhile, I need a bloody drink. You eaten?"
They had turned away towards the stairs when Xander froze. "Do you hear that?" There was a scratching sound coming from the door. Then it bust open and Jimmy flopped in and fell to the floor, on his face.
Xander wheeled around and rushed back towards Jimmy, while Spike ran for the door. Coming to a halt by catching the sides of the opening, he hung out and peered up and down the street. "Damn!" he growled.
Meanwhile Xander had come to a cold stop, a foot from Jimmy's body. He felt the gorge rise in his throat at the sight. The back of Jimmy's head was missing, blood and matted hair framing a hole which left part of his brain exposed. One arm lay stretched out across the floor, terminating in a bloody stump at what should have been the wrist. Behind Xander the door slammed. "Bloody bastards!" Spike growled. "Picked the lock and ran." Xander found himself sitting on his ass, knees bent in front of him, his hands on the oily floor behind him the only things stopping him collapsing completely. "Not a chance of seeing them, let alone catching them." Spike's voice trailed off as it got closer.
Xander's head tilted slowly and he looked up at Spike's face. "Is he dead?" he asked.
Spike frowned. "He's not dust, is he? So, no, he's not dead." He strode away to the stairs where Xander had left his shotgun and Xander followed him with his eyes. Anything rather than look at Jimmy. Breaking the breech, Spike checked the shells and snapping the gun closed, marched back. "Left a letter on the pavement outside. Wankers!" Frozen, Xander watched as Spike walked towards them, wondering how he could ignore Jimmy's injuries, when he had admitted that whoever had dumped Jimmy's body was long gone. So when the shot roared out, he was totally unprepared.
As he watched the dust settle, he dimly heard Spike's voice echoing and roaring above him. "Looks like they work for real, then. Guess you've got your test drive." Xander tilted his face upwards and saw the hard line of Spike's mouth. "Jimmy was okay," Spike said. "Give him fifty years and he'd have made something of himself. He was smart. Well read, too." He paused and sighed. "He liked poetry."
Next Part
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Title: A dateless bargain
Part 36 of the Blood on a Sundial series.
Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #52 - Lock Pick
At:
tamingthemuseSummary: Spike, Xander, AU in Season 2. We are talking slow burn here, people.
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 2,510
36. A dateless bargain
"Spike was awesome." Jimmy's voice carried a mixture of excitement and awe. "He was all kicks and punches and, dude, you should have seen the bodies flying all over the place." As he talked, he mimed out some of the moves, but when he came closer and seemed about to try and drag Xander up to join in, Xander picked up the fully assembled gun from his side and cocked it. Jimmy drew back and whether it was a natural movement on his part, or a response to the gun, almost but not quite pointing at him, Xander didn't know. Regardless, he continued his tale, "He got me out because I wasn't in such a good way by then. But I tell you, man, it's not over, not by a long chalk, it's not."
Returned to his task of cleaning the other gun Xander nodded. "Yeah, he can fight." He wasn't too sure why he had Jimmy's company. It had not yet been dark outside when he came downstairs and Jimmy had never been up and about before Spike, at least, not as far as Xander had noticed. Xander had been in the basement making up some more shells for his shotgun, but he'd soon been distracted by his new Colt 45s. They were beautiful. They felt so right in his hands. Prettier than the Smith & Wessons they'd seen, he was looking forward to testing them, once Spike was awake. Waking a sleeping vampire by shooting at targets in his basement was probably not such a good idea. But why Jimmy had joined him and why he seemed to want to talk, had Xander puzzled.
He kept one wary eye on the young vampire as he reassembled his weapon, but Jimmy didn't seem interested in snacking off him. He paced back and forth across the mats, arms waving with more enthusiasm than Xander could ever remember seeing, although his contact with Jimmy had been strictly limited and always under Spike's watchful eye. "I tell you, man, I'm not going to stand around and let them behave like that to my Sire. Scum like that should think themselves lucky he even goes to their house. They should be treating him with respect. He deserves that. I mean, he's old, man. And any master who lives that long... He's like the oldest vampire ever."
Xander smirked to himself, remembering the real Master with his wrinkly skin and piggy face. And Angel. Hell, even Drusilla had been older than Spike was now. It was obvious Spike was not teaching Jimmy any vampire history. He remembered the soft tone in Spike's voice, when Xander found them asleep together. Maybe he'd been doing other things. Maybe he didn't see Jimmy that way, whatever way that was. Studying the vampire, Xander had to admit that Jimmy was pretty. His face had fined out in the weeks since his death, so his cheekbones were more visible, like he'd lost his puppy fat. He looked like the grad student he had been in life, with a fresh faced innocence, in spite of his pallor. Xander hefted his reassembled gun. Personally, he preferred being able to fight for himself. He placed the Colt carefully in it's box but kept the other, loaded one, close.
Picking up the remaining one of his original pair, he began dismantling it. Jimmy had moved on to a description of the fate deserved by anyone who didn't grant Spike his due respect. Xander wanted to laugh and luckily Jimmy mistook his snort of amusement for approval. "Well, you know how it should be, man. I mean, you follow him. You fight for him. Because you recognise how strong he is, how he deserves your respect." The gun was pretty badly carboned up, but it didn't look like it had been damaged by Spike's experiment. Xander set to cleaning out the barrel. "He must trust you, too." Jimmy's voice was wistful. "I mean, he gave you those guns and he lets you sleep upstairs." His tone brightened. "But I tell you, man, I'm going to be up there too. Soon as I prove myself. I'll be up there in that fancy room," he smirked at Xander, "and maybe you'll be down with the car, like that guy Spike took prisoner for a while." His forehead creased thoughtfully. "What happened to him anyway, did Spike eat him?"
Sighting down the barrel, Xander decided it was clean enough. He glanced up at Jimmy as he picked up the breach mechanism. "No, we let him go."
Jimmy's face fell. "Oh. Oh well, I'm sure Spike had good reasons for that. He must have." He paused in thought and apparently came up blank. "Er, do you know what they were?"
Taking pity, Xander smiled. "He took a message back to the people who sent him. And we needed him alive to do it. But I'm sure if it hadn't been for that, your Sire would have drained every drop."
Bouncing back to happiness, Jimmy grinned. "Yeah, yeah, that's right. He would. If he'd had more time. Because Spike would never let a watcher escape with his life, normally. He's death to them. The slayer of slayers. Did you know he's killed two?"
Xander nodded his recognition of that fact as he began to snap the gun back together. Maybe he'd mount it on the test rig they'd built for Spike's experiment. The Sarge objected to a potentially unsafe firearm lying around. It should be okay now it was clean, but better safe than sorry. He looked across at the rig.
In that way he did, that involved no word, the Sarge had insisted that Xander not actually hold the gun, when Spike pulled out his wooden bullets. So they'd mounted the guns in a vice and activating the triggers by means of a length of wire and a few pulleys. The first shot had been a success, the wooden bullet doing commendable damage to the target, before splintering against the wall behind and Spike had been gleeful. But the second had resulted in the breach exploding, scattering shrapnel across the room and putting a big dent in the wall behind the workbench, about where Xander's head would have been, if he'd been holding the gun himself. So that had been the end of that and the Sarge had sent him a smug sense of vindication. Xander had strung some of the remaining, unused rounds on a leather thong and now they hung around his neck like the lion tooth necklace he had envied Jungle Jake having, as he fought the poachers and treasure hunters in Xander's childhood comic books.
Reassembling the cleaned gun and putting it down, he picked up the loaded one and, getting up carefully, walked over to the ammunition shelf. Grabbing a box, he went back to the workbench and turned to face Jimmy as he loaded the clip with standard, non wooden rounds. Jimmy watched him. "What you doing, man?" he asked, tilting his head as he considered the gun in Xander's hand and the one on the bench by his side.
"Just going to take a couple of test shots. See if the wooden bullets did any permanent damage. See if the breech is still solid. It looks okay, but I think the wood expanded too fast and blocked the barrel in the other one. I've cleaned this one now, but I want to be sure it's good." He placed it in the special mount he'd fashioned, in the vice, and attached the trigger wire. "Go stand over there, out of the way," he instructed. Once Jimmy had withdrawn to the far side of the room, Xander climbed behind the wall of the firing range, wire in hand. Bracing himself, he gave a tug and the explosion reverberated around the room. It was only after he shook his head to clear the echoes that he remembered that Spike was still asleep upstairs. Probably not any more. However the gun looked to be okay and the bullet had even hit the target. Xander grinned to himself and stood up as Jimmy started to move. "Let's try that again," he suggested.
Jimmy backed up. "How many bullets does that thing hold?" he asked.
"Eight," Xander replied. "Seven in the clip, one in the chamber. Now, get back." Five more shots and the gun was still in one piece. He picked up his own gun as he watched Jimmy approach the workbench.
"You know what?" Jimmy asked, rhetorically. "I think that might be just what I want." He reached out and began to unwind the vice, pulling the gun free.
Xander raised his own weapon. "Leave that alone."
Jimmy smiled. "You can't kill me with that," he pointed out smugly. Xander lowered his gun, recognising that he really didn't want to shoot, not even to maim. Not Jimmy.
Turning the gun over in his hands, Jimmy worked out where his various fingers went and struck a pose, feet apart, knees slightly bent, arms stretched out in front of him, pointing it right at Xander and Xander felt a sudden conviction that Jimmy didn't share his own scruples about shooting someone he sort of knew. He straightened slowly, both hand raised, palms facing outwards, his gun hanging loosely from his fingers. "Err, gently now, put the gun down." Jimmy didn't move. "Put the gun down, Jimmy. Spike would really not be pleased if you hurt me. So, just put the gun down."
Jimmy's smile was hard and feral. "But if you have an accident... I'll get to move upstairs even sooner." He didn't shoot though, instead he grabbed the box of ammunition off the bench and began backing up, towards the door. "I just want the gun, man. I won't hurt Spike's pet human. But I'm going to prove to him that I'm as good as anyone." He nodded in approval as Xander stayed still. "So I just want the gun." Reaching the door, he fumbled behind his back, searching for the knob, then pulled it open and backed through, never removing his aim from Xander's chest. When the door finally closed behind him, Xander collapsed to his knees in a heap of panting breaths and released tension and buried his head in the crook of his arms, his fingers flexing through his hair.
By the time Spike wandered downstairs, still blinking sleep from his eyes and hugging a mug of coffee, fifteen minutes later, he had pulled himself back together. On hearing what Jimmy was up to, Spike sighed, then shrugged. "Better go find the stupid bastard, I suppose. You wait here," he said as he headed out. "When I find him, I'm going to skin him alive and chain him up in the store room for a week." Since Xander believed that might well be the literal truth, he was glad he hadn't mentioned Jimmy's delusions of moving upstairs. If they were delusions and not promises made late at night. Shaking his head to clear it of that image, he took his new pump-action shotgun and his beautiful new Colts, and went to spend some quality time in the garage with the car, the front door and too many thoughts.
Spike returned six hours later and was talking even as he walked in and slammed the door shut behind him. "That bitch is boasting about taking out the watchers," he fumed. "As if she even knew they were in town before I told her. As if she thought it up herself." He began to pace around the garage, picking things up from the shelves at random and putting them down again, without looking at them. "Presumptuous, undisciplined, under-educated nonentity. Wouldn't know a watcher if he walked up and kicked her in the shins. Blasted woman! She's got something to do with it. I know it. Can feel it in my water."
Xander let him pace, piecing the story together from Spike's half sentences. Eventually he interrupted, "So you didn't find Jimmy?"
Swinging to face him Spike growled through fangs and pulled back lips. His eyes glowed yellow under heavy ridges and his voice distorted by the change. "No. He wasn't at Duke's and hadn't been there. I tried the other houses, too. No sign." He shook his head and his face shifted back to human. "He obviously didn't come back on his own?" Xander shook his head. "Bugger!" He stopped suddenly and took a long, deep breath which appeared to calm him. "After trailing around town half the night, I'm not best pleased," he announced. "Tomorrow night... we're going out. And you can bring your guns and give them a proper test drive. Meanwhile, I need a bloody drink. You eaten?"
They had turned away towards the stairs when Xander froze. "Do you hear that?" There was a scratching sound coming from the door. Then it bust open and Jimmy flopped in and fell to the floor, on his face.
Xander wheeled around and rushed back towards Jimmy, while Spike ran for the door. Coming to a halt by catching the sides of the opening, he hung out and peered up and down the street. "Damn!" he growled.
Meanwhile Xander had come to a cold stop, a foot from Jimmy's body. He felt the gorge rise in his throat at the sight. The back of Jimmy's head was missing, blood and matted hair framing a hole which left part of his brain exposed. One arm lay stretched out across the floor, terminating in a bloody stump at what should have been the wrist. Behind Xander the door slammed. "Bloody bastards!" Spike growled. "Picked the lock and ran." Xander found himself sitting on his ass, knees bent in front of him, his hands on the oily floor behind him the only things stopping him collapsing completely. "Not a chance of seeing them, let alone catching them." Spike's voice trailed off as it got closer.
Xander's head tilted slowly and he looked up at Spike's face. "Is he dead?" he asked.
Spike frowned. "He's not dust, is he? So, no, he's not dead." He strode away to the stairs where Xander had left his shotgun and Xander followed him with his eyes. Anything rather than look at Jimmy. Breaking the breech, Spike checked the shells and snapping the gun closed, marched back. "Left a letter on the pavement outside. Wankers!" Frozen, Xander watched as Spike walked towards them, wondering how he could ignore Jimmy's injuries, when he had admitted that whoever had dumped Jimmy's body was long gone. So when the shot roared out, he was totally unprepared.
As he watched the dust settle, he dimly heard Spike's voice echoing and roaring above him. "Looks like they work for real, then. Guess you've got your test drive." Xander tilted his face upwards and saw the hard line of Spike's mouth. "Jimmy was okay," Spike said. "Give him fifty years and he'd have made something of himself. He was smart. Well read, too." He paused and sighed. "He liked poetry."
Next Part
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