Distracted

by
Wildepet

Part Three

Telling Angel about his first encounter with Spike had been one of the less fun experiences of Xander's young life. Especially because Angel had not been pleased, and had - uncharacteristically - been very vocal about his displeasure. Like it had been his fault that the other vampire had grabbed him in that goddamn cinema.

And how the fuck had he been supposed to know...? Yeah, right, maybe Angel had a point there. If he had told the others ... but then he would have had to think about things he'd rather not think about. Like how he had actually liked the thrill, the danger. The touch. The seductive whispers.

But that had been then, when he'd been weak, vulnerable. He'd learnt to deal with the guilt, the feeling of loss. He was stronger now, he'd faced more than his fair share of demons over the last months and he would face Spike, if he had to. He just hoped that Buffy would face him first and all he would have to do was to gather up the ashes. Again.

And he really didn't want to think about why the thought of Buffy staking the blond vampire bothered him. Maybe he was just going insane. That seemed to be a well-documented side-effect of unfatal vampire bites, according to Giles' extensive collection of books covering that subject.

Yes, he was obviously quite mad. Angel had told him so, as well. Repeatedly. Mad. Irresponsible. Foolish. But nevertheless the vampire had grudgingly promised him that he wouldn't tell the others, for the time being Xander had sworn not to leave the house alone after dusk, not to invite anyone he didn't know into his house, to always carry a stake, an axe, a cross, holy water, etc., etc., and to inform Angel immediately if Spike tried to approach him. Sure ... if he survived another encounter with Spike it'd be his pleasure to call Angel first thing.

Another encounter with Spike. Oh, shit. He really had to stop his brooding session. He picked up the phone and dialled Willow's number, but put it down after the fifth ring when nobody answered. Maybe she'd gone home with Buffy after the disastrous parent teacher night experience. Courtesy of Spike.

Fuck. Everything was just taking him back to Spike again. It was like the vampire was haunting him, ever since he'd seen him again behind the Bronze. And just why had he told him to run? Xander groaned and closed his eyes. Counting sheep suddenly sounded like a really good idea.

As soon as the sun had gone down, Spike had retreated to the relative privacy of the factory roof. Too much had happened in the last 24 hours, and Dru' s constant nattering about the Slayer and the now-dusted 'Annoying One' hadn't really helped him to make up his mind about what to do next. Because with this Slayer, acting without a proper plan was apparently not the road to success. She had friends. And family. And a great big, very obviously souled vampire to help her out.

Fuck. He'd never get Angelus to help Dru. So he'd have to find another way to heal his dark princess. This was certainly not how he'd pictured his return to the Hellmouth. If she couldn't have Angelus' blood and his care, she would at least get his blood; he'd make sure of that. He'd get some of the soddin' minions to do some research, find the best way to make her whole again without her Sire's cooperation.

There had to be another way. He'd had to stake one or two of the more annoying vampires, but most of them had been wise enough to stay out of his way after he'd gotten rid of the little sod. But he knew they'd been talking behind his back. He would have to be careful. They didn't trust him and he didn't trust them.

But first he had to take care of the Slayer. And her fucking mother. He gingerly rubbed his head. The bump was almost gone, but his pride had taken a severe beating and was far from healed. He needed a plan. The thing was, he didn't know anything about that Slayer.

Weak spots. Anything. Something. To bring her to her knees, break her and make her beg him to kill her. She would never beg for her life. But she would beg for her death. With a satisfied grin he crossed his arms behind his head and lay down, staring at the dark blue night sky. He'd be the bloody Master of the Hellmouth.

He heard Dru pottering downstairs with teacups and spoons, and prayed that she wouldn't find him. He really didn't have the nerve for another of her stupid tea parties. As much as he loved her, sometimes her insanity drove him ... well, insane. Even if he managed to restore her strength, she'd still be as mad as they come.

Sometimes he just wished he'd have someone a little more ... stable, reliable to spend his unlife with. Dru, well, Dru was unique. She made him feel needed, useful, she adored him, she was his black princess. He'd never leave her. Yet, something was missing.

Something. Someone? Someone he could be holding right now if he hadn't told him to run, maybe? Run! What kind of effin' moron was he, anyway, to let the boy get away? To let the boy distract him so that Angelus got the chance to kick him, painfully, and escape. Which had left him with the Slayer. And her mother.
There was something about that boy. Maybe that something that he was missing about Dru. He'd find out soon enough.

With a sigh he sat up again and started to search his coat pockets for his smokes. Time for a little walk. There had to be someone out there who'd just be too happy to tell him where the boy lived after he'd beaten the crap out of them.

Part Four

Xander was very much not being paranoid, thank you very much. He admittedly hardly ever left the house alone anymore, and if he did, even in broad daylight, he'd see Spike everywhere. Lurking in the shadows, pushing a cart at the supermarket, lighting a cigarette in that dark alley. Everywhere Stalking him. Except that he was pretty sure that his mind was playing tricks on him. Especially at the supermarket. Absurd.

And he was also very much not dreaming about Spike either. Nope. No naughty touchy-tasty-fun dreams about the evil undead. Xander was in denial. And that was final. He refused to even think about the vampire. And consequently spent most of his days thinking about not thinking about Spike. It was driving him crazy. But then he already was crazy, anyway.

He tried to play it cool in front of the girls, re-doubling his flirting efforts with Buffy, Cordy and basically every other mildly attractive girl that crossed his path. Except Willow. That was best-friend territory. No way he'd ever think about Willow that way. Ampata. That had been a nice distraction. Well, maybe not quite as nice as it could have been. If she hadn't turned out to be a mummy.

Fuck. He'd really liked her. After she'd kissed him and left him lying on the floor, stunned and somewhat confused, he could have sworn he'd seen Spike in the shadows. Again. His memory was a bit fuzzy, though. And then Buffy and Willow had come and chased the ghost that haunted him away.

Spike was getting impatient. Almost two weeks and he wasn't really making any progress. He'd had a couple of minions keeping an eye on the Slayer. An eye and a video camera, to be precise. He'd been studying her moves, watching her fight. And she was a damn good fighter for sure. So far she'd killed every bloody thing that had dared to look at her sideways. He was starting to think that he'd been pretty damn lucky.

As for Dru, the Hellmouth seemed to be doing her good. She was feeding again, though still not on a regular basis, but she had even left the factory once or twice, to hunt. Much to his annoyance, the idiot minions had let her sneak out on her own. And his princess roaming the streets of Sunnydale unprotected when there was a very eager Slayer and a big souled poofy vampire around was not a risk he was willing to take.

So, he'd tortured the tosser who'd been supposed to look after her, just a little. He'd recover. Probably. Not that Spike actually gave a damn. They had, however, discovered that there was a chance to fully heal Dru, now they just needed to find the book that described the details of the ritual.

But what was bugging him most was the fact that he couldn't seem to get near Xander. Angelus must have warned the boy, and he hardly ever left the house alone when it was dark. And if he did, Spike could sense the holy water and the crosses from the other side of the soddin' street. One night he'd followed Xander and a girl he hadn't seen before to the Bronze.

He was dressed up and looking pretty hot. The girl, she was beautiful. South-American, if he wasn't mistaken. Quite a catch for his boy. Too bad Spike would have to snap her neck. He'd followed her backstage and found her making advances on another lad. Now that wasn't nice. Before he'd had a chance to interfere, the other kid had stormed off as Xander had come looking for his princess.

Curious, Spike had listened to their conversation from his position behind the curtains, not able to suppress the feeling that something was very wrong with that girl. He'd heard them kiss, and then something strange had happened, and when he'd ripped open the curtain the girl had been standing over a barely conscious Xander, muttering something about a seal before she'd run away without noticing him. Xander had been lying on the ground, staring at him, wide-eyed, without really seeing him.

He'd been carrying the boy towards the back door when the unpleasant sound of the Slayer's voice calling her friend's name close-by had stopped him. Risk a fight with the Slayer, or leave the boy behind for the time being, once again? Resignedly, he'd put the boy down when he'd realised that the bitch wasn't alone.

Whoever it was, they would probably have taken Xander to a safe place while he was busy kicking the Slayer's skinny arse. Unless her mother made a surprise appearance again and hit him over the head with an axe. God, he was never going to live that one down.

Well, that was the closest he'd gotten to Xander since their encounter at the high school and he was not happy about that. Which meant he really had to wreak some serious havoc somewhere or he'd explode. He grabbed his coat, and called for Dru not to leave the bloody factory until he was back. Then he went on the prowl.

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