5 Days More
by
BmblBee
Part Eleven
Tuesday morning 3:00am. Xander Harris has four days left to live.
Xander groaned and rolled over onto his back. His mind and body were inhabiting that purgatory world of somewhere between still drunk and grossly hung over. Neither one more than the other. Both agonizing.
He cracked one eye open and knew it was still dark out and by the fact that his hair and clothing were cold and soaked to the bone with dew, he was sure he was still in the graveyard.
Painfully, he lifted the fifty pound arm that lay heavily at his side and tried his best to focus on the watch around his wrist. After several tries he realized the problem was that his eyes no longer worked in congress with each other and he squeezed one shut.
3:00am. Task completed, the arm fell back to the earth with a painful thud. Slowly the memory of the previous twenty-four hours seeped back into his limited functioning brain. Turning his head from side to side he satisfied himself that he was alone and wondered for a minute if he hadn't just dreamt the entire Spike escapade during a drunken binge.
No, the drunk alone proved that Spike had been there. Had. As in, was now gone. Xander sighed. If it was really three and he vaguely remembered telling Spike it was eleven just before he passed out, that meant the vampire
had ditched him. Left him alone and helpless for no less than four hours in a probably demon infested cemetery.
Although it was entirely what one would expect of Spike and it was completely in line with his personality, Xander found it overwhelmingly depressing. Mostly because the last day had been one of the best he could remember in a long time and, in a small way, because if the Spike times weren't going to continue, well, he was a demon magnet. Where were they when you needed one?
He squinted into the darkness. Nope. Nothing appeared interested in eating a weak, helpless human. Damn.
Knowing what he had to do, Xander rolled over onto his stomach. He screwed up what could be viewed as superhuman strength and endurance and he pushed himself to his knees.
After determining that it would be generally too time consuming to make the entire trip home on his hands and knees, Xander gripped the headstone of one Rose Thornwood, and heaved himself to his feet.
Luckily, Rose had no complaint about his sitting there for a minute or two to rest so he took five. He then staggered upright and started the long, horrendous trek home.
"Hey, where you been? We must have gotten separated in the grave yard when I went after that fledge. I came back here and been waitin' for you ever since."
Xander again closed one eye, just to make sure he was really seeing what he thought he was. Yep, there sat Spike, big as life on the steps leading down to his basement apartment.
"What? What fledge?" Xander gripped the cement ledge that ran the perimeter of the building and leaned forward hoping he wasn't about to vomit again. Spike immediately jumped up and rushed to his side putting his
arm around Xander's waist and encouraging him to lean back and allow the vampire to lead him down the steps.
"Come on, Buddy. Wow you really can't hold your beer at all can you?"
Xander's head lolled back onto Spike's shoulder and he belched. Spike visibly cringed at the foul smelling puff of air that assaulted his nose. When they reached the bottom, Xander fumbled about in his pockets unable to locate the golden key that will allow him to die in the privacy of his own home.
"Here, let me." Spike shifted the weight of the boy's body to his other arm and fished about in Xander's pants till he found what he was looking for.
"Well now, seems like you got plenty to be proud of there." Spike laughed as he unlocked the door and carried his patient inside.
"Huh? My key? Proud of my key? Huh?" Xander gave his last effort toward understanding before he and Spike
reached the bed where he relinquished all intelligent thought and allowed his body to go limp. Spike dropped him like a sack of potatoes.
"You're a slug, Harris."
Xander mumbled his agreement.
Spike went about the task of undressing him by starting first with the shoes that were still caked with the dirt of the dead.
"Say, Xan, old buddy, you don't have any extra money lying around here do you?"
"Huh? Oh, no, no money."
Spike peeled the wet t-shirt off over Xander's head and tossed it to the floor where it landed with a plop.
"You sure? Nothing worth hocking? No rainy day cookie jar?"
Xander allowed himself to be flopped from side to side as his pants were tugged down off his hips threatening to take his boxers with them. He felt just slightly obligated to answer the nice person who was making him feel so much better.
"Rain? Cookies? No, I got that CD that my grandma gave me when I graduated but I don't use that. I hide it in my underwear drawer. It's for my future."
Spike looked down and grinned, thinking. 'Well that won't be a problem, now will it?'
Quickly he tossed a blanket over the sleeping boy and headed for the worn out wooden dresser. He tisked his tongue at the sad shape of the few pair of socks and underwear. He snickered at the generous supply of lubrication, then wondered with a scowl, if anyone had shared it with him.
Finally, tucked in the bottom of the drawer, he found it. $1000.00. Spike waved it high in the air and, with great restraint, stopped himself from whooping and shouting.
He took one last look down on the sleeping boy then dashed from the room, the racing results in one hand and the savings bond in the other.
By 5am he was back. Everything had gone off like clockwork. The bets had been placed, the bond traded off to a demon with banking connections and the other arrangements handled.
Exhausted, Spike eased back into the apartment and secured the door behind him. Slipping into the bedroom, Spike wanted to satisfy himself that the boy hadn't wakened up while he was gone.
Spike stood by the bed and looked down on the sleeping, live, human. He looked so different from the body that would lie in the Watchers basement this weekend. It wasn't the fact that this Xander's chest rose and fell with a steady rhythm or the fluttering of his eyes as they darted about behind the closed lids.
It was more than that. It was deeper than that. It was the spark. Spike had seen enough people die, a lot by his own hand to know the second a person becomes a body is when the spark goes out. Like the flip of a switch, the spark is gone.
Xander rolled over on his side and Spike smiled. Xander was full of more spark than anyone he had seen in a long time.
Sadly, and not taking the time to think about it, Spike undressed and slid into the bed beside the boy. He laid there feeling the warmth roll off his body and he listened to the steady beating of his strong young heart.
Spike curled up and laid his head on Xander's chest where he slipped in to a deep, untroubled sleep.
Part Twelve
2:00 pm Tuesday afternoon Xander Harris has 3 1/2 days left to live.
A slight awareness of his surroundings slowly seeped back into Xander's brain. He could tell by the feel of the lumpy mattress beneath him and the odor of smelly socks around him that somehow he must have made
it home in one piece.
The next list of questions were as follows:
Home from where?
What did he do there?
How did he get here?
And most urgently, what was the heavy weight that was pinning him down on said lumpy mattress?
Quickly, Xander took mental inventory of his body parts and decided that, except for a #6 headache, which really under the circumstances, could easily have been closer to a #10, he felt surprisingly good.
After ascertaining the condition of his own body, Xander decided it was time to determine the condition and owner of the other body presently sleeping in the small, cramped, single space.
Turning his head cautiously to the side, Xander squinted one eye open and found himself staring into the most beautiful. clear blue eyes of, "Spike?"
Spike had been awakened the moment Xander had. The increased heartbeat and more shallow, erratic breathing told him that his companion was returning to the land of the living, at least for now. Strangely, that was a concept that was beginning to bother Spike more than he wanted to examine.
Instead, he decided to make the most of his time here and give Xander another day well worthy of confessing to Saint Peter when the human begs entrance to the golden pearly gates.
Spike put on his best hurt pout, the one that came complete with a protruding bottom lip and an almost imperceivable sigh, and he pulled back from his spot on the warm human chest.
"Of course, Spike. You didn't think I would just leave after last night did you? After all the things we said and did to each other? Do you really think that little of me? All this was your idea, after all."
The little man in Xander's brain immediately dashed to the card catalog and began sifting through newspaper articles with titles that ranged from, 'Gay Sex' to 'Spike'? Unfortunately, someone had shut off all the lights
inside the library and he was totally left in the dark.
Spike did his best not to snicker as he watched a confused, flustered young man trying to understand the complexities of the world around him. One thing that did surprise the hell out of Spike was that regret didn't appear to be on the menu. At least not yet.
Sex? The word rang like a church bell in Xander's head. He and Spike had had sex? Just how much sex?
Immediately Xander's hand shot around to his backside as he probed and patted his puckered prize. Once he had determined that the secure borders to Xanderland had not been breached, he visibly relaxed.
Xander had always been comfortable with the idea that he lived in a tree whose branches swayed whichever way the wind blew. After all, his dating options had never been such that he could afford to cut out half the population.
It was just that he had never thought of Spike as someone who would be willing to swing in that tree with him. Spike was always sniffing after Buffy, wasn't he? So why was he here? Why was Spike in his bed?
Spike had waited patiently. He thoroughly enjoyed the shock, denial, embarrassment, and confusion that flowed over the handsome face. He smiled when the boy had blinked, his dark eyebrows scrunched together, and he nearly burst out laughing when Xander had actually checked himself for signs of violation.
Now, though, he was seeing an emotion that he didn't like. Suspicion. He knew if he allowed this weed to grow it would take root and choke off all the other vegetation killing what promised to be a lovely day.
Acting quickly, Spike did the only thing he could think to do. He rolled lazily on top the human and planted a kiss directly on the surprised mouth. Xander's eyes shot open and luckily, so did his mouth.
Spike's tongue dove in and touched every inch of the warm wet cave. The minute it tickled that sensitive spot on the roof of Xander's mouth, the one right behind his teeth, Xander moaned.
He wrapped his strong muscular arm around Spike's waist and he lifted himself, flipping them like Siamese pancakes and landed on top. Considering they'd had some sort of sex already, Xander considered it pointless to play coy now.
Spike gasped at the sudden move and the erotic weight of the man pressing him down into the warm, rumpled sheets. Xander had decided long ago that life was too short to pass an opportunity by when it lands on your doorstep, or bed.
He instantly took charge of the kiss, overwhelming the vampire with the taste, feel and power of the human he had often erroneously dismissed as inconsequential.
Xander knew he had been too long without release. At least one he could remember. Lately he had been too despondent and bored to even masturbate more than a couple times a week. It was a slump he was apparently over.
Now his libido shot through the roof. He wanted to fuck and be fucked. He wanted his cock touched, sniffed, licked and sucked till his eyeballs exploded. And, most of all, he wanted Spike.
That was the amazing part. He wanted Spike to enjoy it too. Reaching his hand down between them, Xander lifted himself up slightly till he was able to align their cocks up together.
When his fingers felt the other man's hard shaft and soft foreskin, he shuddered with excitement. His fingers continued to tug and rub it.
"Fuck, you aren't cut. I never touched a cock's head skin. Shit, Spike it's so smooth."
Spike shivered at the thought that something might be new and unexperienced. After all these years of uninhibited sex with partners of all species, he couldn't remember the last time he faced someone experiencing
something new. It was as thrilling as if it were him.
"Oh, yeah, Xan. Right there." Spike spread his legs further apart as his hips jerked upward trying to coax Xander to stop playing with it and start stroking it.
Xander's own cock was getting equally annoyed with him and dribbled down, dripping onto his hand as a suggestion that it was time to move on.
Spike watched between them as Xander lifted his upper body, taking the weight on his hands and arms. His hips and groin pressed down on Spike's and together they began a slow rocking movement that felt so fucking good they never wanted to stop.
"Come on, Spike. Move with me."
Within minutes, Spike gripped Xander's hips, holding him firmly and picking up the pace. He humped up harder and faster, rotating every once in a while just to keep the bump and rub going.
"Yeah, fuck, Spike, harder."
Spike's right hand released his grip on the boy's hip bone and slid between them where he gabbed both cocks and squeezed them together. The pre-cum caused the friction to be wet and easy as they grunted, panted
and slid toward heaven.
Xander's head dropped and several beads of sweat fell from his hair onto Spike's face and chest. Spike's tongue darted out, tasting the salty moisture. It was pure Xander.
"Fuck, Xan. I can feel it. I'm cumming. Shit, come on,Xan, cum with me."
Xander's hips snapped down roughly and rapidly as the familiar tingle started in his spine. He could actually feel the hot fluid as it filled his sac and shot out through his painfully hard cock blending with the cool pool of vampire cum below him.
"Ah. Ah. Ah."
His hips continued to jerk forward three more times as his cock spasmed and spurted with the pleasure that poured through him. Spike's own orgasmic haze cleared and he watched the face of the man above him. He decided that Xander had one of the most wonderful fuck faces he had ever seen and he knew he wanted to see it again.
Slowly, Xander became aware that his arms were shaking with the strain of holding him up and he slumped, falling to the vampire's side in a boneless puddle of satisfied human.
"Was that what we did last night?"
Spike pouted. "You don't remember?"
Xander immediately propped his head up on his hand and ran his other palm over Spike's face.
"Oh, yeah, sure. It was great. Last night was great."
Spike smiled and snuggled closer.
Part Thirteen
Xander Harris has 3 1/2 days left to live.
Xander laid in the cramped small space that had until recently been a very lonely bed. He glanced at the man beside him and marveled at the amazing turn his life had taken. Just when he was beginning to think he had nothing to look forward to, he suddenly had a future worth living.
Xander Harris was thrilled to be alive.
He watched the vampire snooze and wondered if he always conked out like that after sex or if he was still tired from last night too. Either way, Xander was beginning to get restless. He decided to slip out of bed, get dressed and run down to the market for coffee and donuts.
Spike had enjoyed that yesterday morning and Xander had enjoyed Spike today. It seemed a fair trade off.
Xander quietly opened the bedroom door and stepped out into the shabby living room.
"ACK! Spike! We've been, um, gifted!" He wanted to say robbed, but considering his old 19" tv had been
replaced with a 32" HD flat panel, robbed didn't seem quiet an accurate term.
Spike came sleepily stumbling, stark naked, out of the bedroom. Xander looked back and forth. A naked, gorgeous man and a new tv. It was his two favorite fantasies combined in one. He wanted to touch them both. He was conflicted.
Spike laughed and took pity on the boy. He handed him the remote and lightly kissed his lips.
"I had it put in, Pet. Was no sense in having the satellite system connected to a shit telly. Called in some favors and got what we needed."
Xander aimed the remote like a weapon and punched the up arrow for what seemed like forever. Channel after channel appeared and disappeared. Soaps, games, infomercials, news, and religion. He paused on the channel with the ninety year old nun hawking expensive religious statues, touting them as the bargain of the day. That just seemed way wrong.
"Satellite? I can't afford satellite. I'm broke, Spike. Jobless and probably soon to be homeless. I wonder if I can have the satellite put in my cardboard box." Xander's finger never stopped punching the arrow till he suddenly
came to....
"Porn? We have porn, Spike. We have.......Oh, God. Gay porn. Men doing things to other......Oh God Spike! Is that really possible? Have you ever tried that?"
Spike snatched the remote from the quivering human and quickly located the channel he needed.
"Yes, Xan, it's possible and I'll personally prove it to you later. Right now I need to get the results of the first race at Hialeah. Placed a couple bets last night and unfortunately the ponies like to run in the sunshine."
After locating the station he wanted, Spike rushed over to where he had tossed his duster on the back of the ratty plaid sofa and dug through the pockets till he retrieved a stack of crumpled betting slips.
Immediately he sat down and began organizing them and checking them against the results of the races already ran. Quietly, Xander sat down beside him, trying to ignore the sight of the vampires bits dangling between his legs and resting comfortably on the couch he used to dislike.
Gradually, Xander came to notice a pattern. Each time the results of a race were announced, Spike would lay out the slip and match up the name of the horse to the one that had won.
Jimmy Durante won by a nose.
White Boy's Pleasure came on a length.
Snowflake froze out the rest of the pack.
Pretty Boy Floyd shot down the competition.
"Oh my God, Spike. You won! You're rich! You picked every horse in every race. How the fuck did you do that? You get a tip or something? Wait a minute, I thought you were broke. Where did you get the money to place all these bets? It must have cost you hundreds."
Spike avoided eye contact and continued shuffling his paperwork. "Oh, well, got it from a mate of mine. Just a loan it was. Got more than enough to pay 'em back, I do."
Spike reached into the other coat pocket and pulled out a twenty that he handed to flabbergasted human.
"Here ya go, Pet. Run down and get us some coffee and pastries, yeah? When the sun goes down we'll head for the track to pick up our winnings, place some bets for tomorrow and celebrate."
Xander hesitated. He wasn't sure about taking money from the vampire but Spike continued to waggle it and assure him that it was as good as his. Xander finally relented and headed out with a smile.
Spike retreated to the shower. Suddenly he felt dirty. It was a feeling he was quickly able to reason away by telling himself that the bond was for Xander's future.
Well, this was his future. The only one he had so Spike had made up his mind to make sure Xander enjoyed every minute he had left and if Spike could come out of it with a bob or two, well he was sure Xander
would want it that way. Conscience soothed.
The rest of the day was a series of firsts for Xander and a day he would never forget. He used to think that he had done everything possible in Sunnydale. He soon realized he had been deluded.
They had spent a relaxing afternoon of lying about on the couch watching an assortment of any type of game that could be played with a ball, apparently Spike had money on those too, a couple of cooking and home decorating shows, and a half hour of Tom and Jerry cartoons. He had never noticed the homoerotic undertones till Spike pointed them out to him.
They had laughed, tried to outdo each other on snide comments about the models on the Price Is Right, and much to Xander's delight, made out, kissing and groping, during the commercials.
But the most exciting part was when the sun finally set over the restrictive horizon. Hopping into Xander's less than trustworthy Chevy, they zipped cross town, Spike happily at the wheel.
Xander thought he had seen every type of demon the small southern California community had to offer till he spent some time at the local race track. He plastered himself to Spike's side as the vampire wove a path through
a bizarre collection of whooping and shouting creatures with scaly skin and long suggestively snapping tails.
Upon first arrival, Xander found the frantic mood combined with the mob of strange characters terrifying. It took all of forty-five minutes before he was hanging by the fence waving his betting slip high in the air and screaming his encouragement to the sleek animal working it's way round the track.
Spike had been handed a duffel bag that Xander presumed to be filled with cash and then engaged in what was no doubt a cursing match in some demon language Xander didn't understand. It all appeared to be good natured and Spike was busily placing more bets when Xander had walked away.
He had put his last $10.00 on a horse called Short timer and it looked like it was running just for Xander. Next to him, a chubby Flopper demon had joined Xander in his sideline antics and was copping a quick feel each time Short Timer would pass a slower nag on the bend. Xander knew it and didn't mind. What was a feel or two among new friends?
The electricity in the air increased tenfold when the pack of horses came round the last turn and entered the home stretch. The mob pressed in closer and Xander was mashed against the chainlink fence. He was enormously grateful Spike had made him pee before leaving the house.
The mob chanted, rocked and roared with anticipation. Xander stood on his toes trying to physically shove Short Time over the line. Horrified, he spotted the nearest competition closing in fast. Saving Grace was coming up on the flank.
Saving Grace was pulling up along side, her hooves pounding the dirt track into clouds of dust. Saving Grace was snorting, spraying mists of heavy mucus onto the rump of the horse she was trying to pass. Xander held his breath.
Saving Grace and Short Time were neck to neck, nose to nose.
Both horses crossed the finish line and a blanket of silence fell over the crowd as they awaited the results.
"Ladies, Gentlemen, and Demons of all kinds. We have the results of tenth race. The winner, by a nose, is....... Short Timer.
"WAHOO!!!!!!!" Xander leaped into the air, waving his golden ticket high over his head. His new companion slapped him almost painfully on the back.
"Way to go. Way to go, Buddy. Damn, them was good odds you just won you a passel full o' cash. Come on, let's celebrate. How bout you buy your new Buddy a drink or four."
"Don't do it, Love. Floppies are notorious pick pockets. He'd have your money and be gone before your first beer hit the urinal."
Xander shivered at the accented voice that whispered low and suggestively in his ear. He hardly noticed the Flop as it hissed and blended into the crowd, pissed that it had wasted so much time on a vampire's pet.
"Hey, Spike, look I won. I got enough to pay my rent and live for at least another month. Shit, you were right, I didn't need to go find another job right away. I guess I never realized what a smart vampire you are. I always just thought you were a smart ass vampire."
Xander roared with laughter as Spike rolled his eyes and began steering the boy toward the pay off windows.
"Look, Love, listen to me. I need you to collect your winnings, take the duffel bag and head home. I have something I have to do and it's too dangerous for you to tag along. I'll meet you back at your place around three."
Xander's mood popped like a helium balloon. He was having the best time ever and didn't want it to end. Frantically he grabbed the sleeve of the vampire's coat and tugged him close. "No. Come on Spike, I can take care of myself. Please. Besides, wouldn't I be in more danger walking the streets of Sunnydale at night with a sack containing thousands of dollars?"
Spike felt a twinge in his heart of.........what? He wasn't sure, but the pressure of time was weighing heavy. He knew if he didn't hurry, Xander would witness his Cinderella act as he turned into a pumpkin and evaporated
into thin air.
Spike knew he could end this now. He had his money. All he had to do was slip back to Saturday, go round to the boy's flat and pick it up. The end.
"No, Xander. I can't explain right now but I promise. You go home and get some sleep. Nothing bad can happen to you. It's only Tuesday. Now, scoot and I'll see you at three."
Spike planted a quick kiss on Xander's frowning, confused lips, shoved the bag into his hands and turned disappearing into the crowd just as the deep pull stirred inside him.
Part Fourteen
3:00 am Saturday morning. Xander Harris has been dead for 4 hours.
Buffy and Willow paced the room frantically. The magic hour of two am had come and gone with no trace of the vampire and the women had become desperate.
By 2:20 Willow had dashed up the stairs in search of a spell book that could possibly supply the answer to the question of what could have gone wrong. Within minutes she had returned. The dusty tome in one hand and a flashlight from Giles study in the other.
They had, around 1:30 briefly wondered where Giles had gone, but were mostly relieved that he hadn't returned and that was one piece of the puzzle they didn't have to contend with.
"Darn it, Buffy, hold the light steady on the page." Willow was again perched on the upside down crate in the cool dark cellar, her friend shifting her weight nervously from one foot to the other and causing the beam of light to sway annoyingly.
"Sorry. Sorry. Did you find anything? Do you know what went wrong? Is he stuck back there? Do you think his molecules evaporated into space like on Star Trek? Shit! I'll bet that weasely vampire DID come back and he just went home. Slithered back to his filthy, bug infested crypt. I ought to go there right now and stake his ass. I ought to........."
Willow carefully closed the book and laid it by her side on the cement floor. She held her wrist up to her face and checked the time on her watch.
"No, Buffy. He didn't come back. If my calculations are right I think we have a problem."
Buffy took two steps back. Her arm dropped, allowing the beam of light to shine on a small brown bug that skittered, in shock, into a crack of the concrete floor. Her body went rigid and her mouth dropped comically.
"You think we have a problem? You THINK we have a problem? For Fuck sake, Willow. Our best friend is dead and we're huddled in the basement with his body. Giles has disappeared and we've shot our arch enemy into the past banking on him to save us. Great Beeswax on a bun, girl, what else could go wrong?"
Willow sat back, resting her spine against the cool block wall and watched her friend stomp, wave her arms, and hyperventilate wildly. She knew it was pointless to try to cut her off. It was best to let all her frustrations flow, give them voice and not hold back. Willow knew Buffy well enough to know she would calm down then, be more receptive to reason.
When it appeared she was done, Willow took a deep breath and tried to explain.
"This is a time spell. I took into account the time of Xander's death as well as when Spike should arrive back and leave. I figured in four hours between the time he leaves there and returns to the past in case
we didn't want this to go on. Unfortunately there was just one thing I overlooked. Time here has not stopped. The original configuration of two am would have been accurate if our time did not continue to run."
Buffy was on the verge of pulling her hair out. "What does that mean? What the fuck does it mean, Willow?
Sprekenzee fuckin' English, Woman!"
Willow shook her head and stared at her best friend. They had sat in the light deprived room for so long, Willow was not surprised to realize that she could see quite clearly now.
"What it means is that each time he returns it will be an hour later our time. If I am correct, he will come tumbling down those steps at three am instead of two. If we allow this to continue the next time will be four and the last will be at five. Close to sunrise."
Even someone as slow on the uptake as Buffy didn't take a map to find her way around that territory.
She took a step closer to her companion and her voice dropped to a whisper. "It could be too late. Even if he finds a way to save Xander, Spike might get back here too late. If Xander has been turned, he will begin to rise
as soon as the sun touches the edge of the horizon. We won't have a choice if that happens. I'll have to........."
Buffy's voice broke and she rushed back to the cold, lifeless body, throwing herself over him, fearful of what seemed to be the inevitable outcome of this whole tragic affair.
Willow watched as Buffy's moving shadow blended with Xander's still one. "Let's not panic yet. It's 2:30. If I'm right we still have a half an hour. Besides, Spike said he had an idea. Let's give him a chance. We don't have
any other choice, Buffy. All our chips are on Spike. Let's pray he plays them well."
The next thirty minutes were spent bickering, apologizing and pacing. Buffy had rushed upstairs twice to pee and once to check her make-up. Willow had picked a loose thread on the hem of her sweater till it had pulled a gaping hole in the seam, rendering it unrepairable.
By 2:55 the anticipation had them both on the verge of screaming. What would they do if three am came and went with no vampire. Would he always be lost in the past? Did they really care beyond how it would affect them and their hopes for Xander?
Buffy's fingertips dug fiercely into her scalp as she pressed her palms over her eyes.
"What time is it now, Willow? What's the time?"
Before Willow had the chance to answer the small closed door at the top of the steps rattled with the force of the energy field that slammed into it and the vampire tumbled roughly down to land in a heap at the bottom.
"Fuckin' hell, witch. Can't you do that some other way?' Spike fumbled, off balance, and staggered to his feet.
In relief and gratitude, both women rushed to him and threw their arms around him, one on each side, they hugged him tightly.
Spike had no idea what was going on but their small warm bodies felt incredible pressed against him. When his hand slowly wandered too low, Buffy smacked it off her ass and stepped back.
"Pig! Damn, Spike. You scared us to death. We thought we'd lost you."
Spike's face crinkled in confusion and he looked to Willow for a reasonable explanation, recognizing that expecting anything rational in this bizarre situation was probably asking too much.
"You're late, Spike. There's a glitch in the spell and each time you return it's an hour later. It's three, not two, and we weren't sure you could make it back."
Spike needed a minute to contemplate the implications of that. At first it seemed minute, unimportant, what was sixty minutes when they were dealing with days? He looked back and forth between the two.
Gradually it sank in. The girls had sent him back to save their friend and this new wrinkle was going to make it harder. They had no idea that this whole strange night was the result of a wish. A way to relieve the boredom
of an extended, tedious unlife. They had actually put all their hopes in him and he was about to let them down.
Buffy was becoming increasingly pissed off at his silence and grabbed him roughly by the arm.
"Speak! Say something. What the hell is going on back there? What about your idea with the newspapers? Did it work? Is he o.k? Can you save him? Damn it, Spike, talk to us."
Angrily, Spike jerked away from the clutching claws of the Slayer and wandered over to the still, quiet body of his new friend. Suddenly, he wished he had never started this. He regretted doing something as stupid as making
a wish on the hell mouth. He should have known nothing good would have come of it.
Brushing the hair off Xander's forehead, Spike voice dropped low. "It didn't work. I don't think I can save him. I don't know why but I think it's supposed to happen."
Buffy threw herself on Spike's back, pounding her fists against him as she screamed and cried her sorrow.
"Fuck you Spike. You try harder. Damn you, you worthless fucking vampire. You try harder. One Xander is worth a million of you and you don't have any right to be standing here if he's dead."
Willow gasped. "Buffy, no. Spike, I'm sorry. We're just so upset. She didn't mean it."
Spike looked down on the floor where Buffy had collapsed in sobbing tears and he felt one of his own slide down his cheek. "She's right. Xander is worth that, and more."
Spike went to the velvet pouch and took out another glass ball.
"I might not be able to save his life, but I can at least make sure his last few days are happy ones."
With that, he smashed the ball and was gone.
Part Fifteen
3:00 am Wednesday morning Xander Harris has 2 1/2 days left to live.
Spike stumbled forward, gripping the damp, ivy covered wrought iron fence for balance. He was beyond wondering or caring about the logistics of where he landed, he just knew where he wanted to be.
Leaping the fence in one smooth, cat like leap, Spike took off at a sweeping pace toward the seamlier side of town. He tried telling himself that he wanted to do this because he owed Xander. After all the boy had bank rolled his huge winnings.
He refused to feel any guilt over granny's CD. She had left it for her grandson to use in an emergency, or for something special that would make him happy. Well, thanks to Spike, it had done both. 'Of course' Spike decided. 'If he never finds out about it, all the better.'
Spike turned the bend and carried on at an even quicker trot. He was honest enough to admit that the boy had surprised him. All this time Spike had been so wrapped up in the Slayer that he had never even noticed how funny, how open, how ready for any new adventure his boy could be.
Spike smiled. No, the next two days wouldn't be a hardship. Not at all.
Spike's thoughts had been so focused on his destination and Xander that he was unaware of the dark shadowy figure waiting in the alley down the block till he hustled past and felt the steel pipe swing, just missing his head by inches.
"What the Fuck?"
Spike spun around in time to see a rail thin young man in a black hoodie approach him tenuously. The leather clad gloved hand tossed the pipe aside. The loud clanking metallic sound of it as it crashed against the side
wall of the brick building echoed loudly. It was the only sound on the dead quiet street.
Taking a fumbling step back, the young man reached in his pocket and pulled out a 9MM, pointing it with shaky hands directly at a spot between Spike's eyes.
"I'll shoot! I swear to God, I'll shoot. Give me all your fuckin' money! Now, mutha fucker! NOW!"
Spike inhaled, smelling the boy and the air around him. Beyond the stench of fear, sweat, and unwashed flesh, Spike clearly detected the odor of black tar heroin residue, dried on a metal spoon in his pocket.
Spike's eyes slid from the top of the would be thief's head down to the soles of his probably stolen Air Jordan's. It struck him as incredibly unfair that his boy would die soon while this piece of shit was allowed to live.
Spike decided that if the universe couldn't fairly even the balance a bit maybe he could.
"Take it easy, son. No need to use that thing. You don't really want to do this do you? Maybe you could get some help, you know, quick stint in a rehab. Just like all them Hollywood types."
The gun pointed in Spike's face began waving wildly as the boy's breathing and heart rate both rose to a dangerous level. The hugely dilated pupils of his eyes flashed with hate and spittle foamed at the corners of his mouth.
"Shut the fuck up. I ain't going to no fuckin' rehab. Now, give me your fuckin' money before I just shoot your fuckin' English ass and take it."
Spike slowly reached into his coat pocket and saw the boy's lips curl up into a victorious sneer. "Yeah, yeah. That's right mutha fucker."
The elation of the win, however, morphed into confusion when, instead of money, Spike extracted a lighter and his trusty pack of Newports, shaking one out and casually slipping it between his lips.
Hoodie's eyes darted back and forth between the lit cigarette and the hand that dropped both items back in the duster pocket and returned empty.
Spike leaned, relaxed against the cool brick wall, inhaling and slowly blowing out a long cloud of poisonous nicotine as though he hadn't a care in the world.
"What the........? Who the fuck you think you're playin' with? I'll fuckin' shoot your white ass! I'll fuckin' ACK! ACK!"
Any further threats were cut off as effectively as the wind in his throat. Although he never saw his prospective victim move, the smoker was no longer standing in front of him.
Suddenly the small innocuous looking man in the long black coat was changed. He had moved in the blink of an eye and the strength of the arm around his neck was like an iron band. The forgotten gun fell from his fingers, clattering to the ground.
Spike grabbed the top of the thief's hood in his claw like fingers, jerking it down and taking a clump of greasy, dirty hair with it.
The pain worked wonders towards bring the boy out of his terror induced stupor and he began squirming and struggling, pulling at the arm that still restricted the flow of air into his lungs.
"Lemme go! Ack! Let go. Keep your damn money. I don't care about the fuckin' money. Let go or I'll....I'll....I'll call the cops, that's what I'll do. I'm a juvenile. You can't touch me.You better funkin' get off me or you're gonna be sorry."
Spike grabbed a fist full of the boy's scalp and snapped his head to the side. Now in full game face, he sniffed, the glorious smell of fear and adrenalin and the blood that pumped so rapidly so near the surface, smelling like cotton candy at the county fair.
"Don't worry, boy. It'll all be over quick." Spike growled low, a deep rumbling from his chest that the thief
could feel vibrate into his back. He froze. All struggling stopped as the certainty of the situation sank in. The boy whimpered and the front of his pants soaked through as his bladder released.
Spike grinned and sank his fangs through the tender young skin. It took only minutes before the empty shell was tossed to the side and disregarded.
Taking a step towards the mouth of the alley, Spike staggered back. His brain swam in his skull and his body flushed with the warmth of the heroin as it flowed through him.
Spike leaned against the cool brick facade, his head tossed back as his eyes rolled up. He felt sluggish, lethargic, fucking fantastic. He tried to remember where it was that he was headed and why but his cognitive abilities were simply not there.
With his mouth hanging open and his arms swinging limply at his sides, Spike slid slowly down till his ass rested on the filthy, garbage strewn alley floor, his head lolled forward as his chin came to rest on his chest.
Xander had made it home, all in one piece just as Spike had said he would, but that didn't make him happy. He almost wished he had been mugged and the duffel bag of cash stolen. That would serve Spike right. That would show him. Damn vampire.
Xander couldn't believe when Spike had ditched him. He thought they had found some sort of friendship. 'What was the term?' He tried to remember, 'Oh, yes, friends with benefits.' And Xander liked the benefits very much. To be strictly accurate, Xander liked Spike very much.
Xander realized that the only part of all this that should have surprised him was how long Spike stayed or that he was here at all. 'Why the fuck was he here?' It was a question that Xander really couldn't find an answer to.
Arriving home, Xander tossed the bag to the side and closed the door behind him. He looked around the place and frowned. Two days ago this was his pride and joy. His accomplishment. His home. Now, however, it looked empty and depressing without the vampire.
Xander snorted. A vampire was the one thing Goodwill didn't sell in their used furniture department. 'They should.' He thought 'It's the perfect decorative accessory.'
Dropping down on the ugly plaid sofa, he wondered again, where Spike had gone. Did he go to Buffy? Was he standing outside her window pining for her? Or worse, were they having friendly benefits too? He rubbed his hands roughly over his face trying to block out the full color images that now scampered around his brain.
Xander checked the time on his watch. Nearly midnight. With a resigned sigh, he turned off the lights and went to bed.
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