PAIRING: Spike/Xander
RATING: NC-17
SUMMARY: Alert the presses! Spike’s a fairy!
SPOILERS: BtVS season four, more or less.
WARNINGS: An un-beta’d exercise in foolishness. Just ‘cause it’s going around.
DISCLAIMER: The characters in this series are the property of Joss Whedon et al. No profit is derived from this work.
FEEDBACK and constructive criticism very welcome.

Fairy Dust

by
Rakshathewolf

Part One

“H’llo. Xander’s house of pain.”

“Oh. Erm, Xander? It’s Giles. Sorry to bother you, but would you be willing to come over? There’s been…ah…well, there’s a bit of a problem, and we could use some help.”

Xander looked over at the digital display on his bedside clock. 10:15pm. So much for the big night off. Which was shot anyway, what with the no showing up of the object of his affection.

He sighed. “Sure, Giles. Be there in a few.”

“Thank you, Xander.” Giles hung up with a decisive click.

Well, that was short and sweet, Xander thought as he replaced the receiver and stood. Surprising short, what with Giles usually being big exposition-man.

Grabbing up his jacket and keys, Xander left his basement abode and made his way to Uncle Rory’s convertible. As he started the car and pulled away, he admitted to himself that he was a little glad for the distraction from the helluva mess he was in.

He’d admitted itself to himself, even if he’d MUCH rather not admit it to anyone else. He had a crush. On Spike. It sucked.

Consider the facts: Having this crush indicated that he was gay, which was news to him. He and Spike hated each other, except in his case, apparently, not so much. Besides hating Xander, Spike was straight, as far as Xander knew, plus Spike was, like, the most obnoxious human being ever, and then he wasn’t even a human being, which was a whole other can of worms.

Also, Xander’s life sucked in general. He had a shit job and no prospects, he lived in his parents’ basement, and the only bright spot in his shit life was his night off when he got to sit around and drink beer and trade insults with this vampire he was in love with, who hadn’t even bothered to show up tonight.

Feeling distinctly sorry for himself, Xander sniffled softly as he parked in front of Giles’ place.

***************

The Scoobies tended not to bother to knock these days, so Xander didn’t. As he stepped into Giles’ apartment, Buffy was the first to greet him, giving him a sunny “Hey, Xan!”

Tara, looking worried, managed a little half-smile and a wave.

Giles looked up distractedly from the volume he was studying with a rather distracted “Hello, Xander.”

Willow, in tears, shot up from the sofa and flung herself into Xander’s arms. “Oh, Xander! Spike’s a fairy, and it’s all my fault!”

Part Two

“What? How? What?” Xander stood there bewildered, ignoring the little voice inside that immediately exclaimed ‘If only!’ and ‘I’d rather it be MY fault.’

“It’s a rather curious set of circumstances, actually.” This was Giles.

“I’ll bet,” Xander muttered dazedly as he put Willow away from him gently. “Why don’t you guys start at the beginning, okay?”

Willow stepped back and dropped her eyes guiltily, rubbing her nose hard with the back of her hand.

Feeling Xander’s gaze, she stumbled back to her place on the sofa beside Tara, who was studying the flower patch on the knee of her jeans. After a moment, Tara reached for Willow’s hand and her shy eyes flickered up to meet Xander’s for an instant. “It…It’s not all W-w-willow’s fault. It’s mine, too.” She swallowed hard and trembled, looking as if the admission had taken a lot out of her.

“I had nothing to do with this,” Buffy volunteered, reaching for a cookie and settling back into her armchair.

“Swell!” Xander exclaimed. “So how about less of the blame game and more of the WHAT IN THE HELL IS GOING ON?” He dropped into the nearest seat and looked expectantly around the room.

Giles cleared his throat and removed his spectacles with one hand, reaching for his handkerchief with the other. Not finding it in his pocket, he made a small grimace and replaced his glasses. Clearing his throat a second time, he launched into his narrative.

**************

“Giles! I’m here!”

Giles bent to peer out from the window that separated the galley kitchen from the rest of the small flat. “Ah, Buffy. You’re early.”

The Slayer wrinkled her nose in puzzlement, glancing at the clock. It was 7:13. “You said seven o’clock, right?”

“Yes indeed.” He turned back to the stove.

“Are you making fun of me?” She pouted, ever so slightly.

“Perhaps a bit.” Giles poured the water into the teapot.

“Oh, ha ha. I would have been here, but Mom gave me a gift certificate to get my nails done.” She glanced around. “Where are Willow and Tara?”

“They haven’t arrived yet.” He put cookies out onto a plate.

“They’re late,” stated Buffy with a note of accusation.

“Quite.” The Watcher’s tone was dry as he carried the tray out into the living room.

Buffy frowned then kicked off her shoes and curled up into her favorite comfy armchair. “So, is Xander coming?”

“No.” Giles placed the tray onto the coffee table, wordlessly offering Buffy a cup of tea with a gesture. At her slight shudder, he shrugged and poured himself a cup, fussily adding just so much sugar and cream. “Thanks to the information that Spike gave us, we know when and where the Kli’es demon will rise tomorrow night, as well as what it wants. All that’s left is to determine the best way of killing it, and that should be a reasonably simple task.”

Giles sipped experimentally, added a bit more cream, then continued. “As Xander is working two jobs, and his nights off are rare, I told him that we would manage quite well without him.”

“Xander’s working? Two jobs? What’s he doing?” Buffy, busy examining the mauve paint on her perfect little toenails, missed the mild disappointment in her Watcher’s look.

“DoubleMeat palace by day, and pizza delivery by night. A thankless existence, I should think.” Giles stirred thoughtfully.

Buffy, finished with her scrutiny of her pedicure, was now inspecting her fingertips. “Yeah, me, too. It’s too bad that Xander’s grades weren’t good enough to get him into college. Would have been fun to have him with us at Sunnydale U.”

Giles’ spoon slowed, then stopped. “Actually, Xander’s grades weren’t that bad.” His voice was level.

“Really?” Buffy looked puzzled. “He always talked like he was practically flunking out of everything.”

Giles shrugged. “Not really. It’s actually more a matter of Xander not having the financial support from his parents that you and Willow have.”

Buffy raised her eyes then, curious.

“Really?”

Giles stared down into his tea. “Really.”

There was a moment of silence. Buffy looked troubled. “That’s too bad.” She was silent for a time, then she shrugged. “So tell me more about what Spike had to say about these Kli’es demons.”

“Very well.” Giles set his tea down precisely and picked up his notes.

Ten minutes later, the front door of the flat opened quietly and the witches slipped in, offering quiet greetings. The Watcher, who was, after all, trained to watch, observed that the two of them looked flushed, disheveled, and ever-so-slightly guilty.

Having begun to have his doubts about Willow’s escalating forays into magic, Giles made a mental note to have a private word with the girl later. It could wait, though. At the moment, they had other matters to deal with.

They had barely begun to delve into the question at hand when the door burst open and Spike strolled in, attitude at the fore.

The two witches on the sofa squeaked in unison. Buffy raised an eyebrow, then casually produced a stake from her waistband and flung it with a sporting air.

“Oi!” The vampire feinted quickly, then turned back to look at the stake now quivering in the door where he had been standing a moment before. “Is that any way to thank me for clueing you in to the latest big bad?” Moseying further into the flat, he tsked. “Bad form, that’s what I say.”

Giles’ brow knitted. Not surprisingly, he’d seen a flash of fear on the vampire’s face as the Slayer made her move. What puzzled him, though, was the brief wave of hurt he thought he observed afterward. Surely not.

Quickly, he gave himself a mental shake. “To what do we owe the dubious pleasure of your presence, Spike?”

The vampire stuck out his jaw. “Gave you the low-down on the Kli’es, di’n’t I? Ought to be worth something’, right? ’Ts only fair.”

Giles heaved a sigh and reached into his pocket. “Oh, alright.” He extracted his wallet.

“Giles, no!” Buffy objected. “You’re not going to actually pay him, are you?” She presented a forefinger. “I just broke a nail, and it’s his fault!”

“Oh!” Willow sprang into motion. “I’ve got a bottle of NailMend.” She pawed through her macramé purse. “It’s right here, somewhere….” As she rummaged energetically, a tiny vial of glittering powder flew out and came to a rolling stop atop the toe of Spike’s black boot.

The top of the little container dropped off. “”Ere, what’s this?” Spike bent to touch the shiny substance.

There was a flash of light, and everyone in the room froze.

“Oh, dear.” Giles murmured, looking at the pile of clothing where Spike had been. All was quiet and still for a long moment, then there was a collective gasp as the pile of fabric fluttered and a tiny voice rose up: “Oh, BLOODY hell!”

Part Three

There was a flash of light, and everyone in the room froze.

“Oh, dear.” Giles murmured, looking at the pile of clothing where Spike had been. All was quiet and still for a long moment, then there was a collective gasp as the pile of fabric fluttered and a tiny voice rose up: “Oh, BLOODY hell!”


Fairy Dust, Part 3

Giles, Willow, Tara and Buffy stood frozen with shock as the agitation under the leather duster grew more violent and the tiny voice turned the air blue with a string of increasingly creative obscenities.

The witches blushed scarlet, Buffy’s eyes widened, and Giles was impressed in spite of himself at Spike’s verbal abilities. Finally, after endless moments, the pool of fabric on the floor gave a mighty heave, a battered Doc Marten toppled over, and Spike…emerged.

Willow eeped.

Tara cooed with surprised pleasure.

Buffy broke into a peal of laughter.

After one filthy look back at the offending garments, Spike turned and glared at the humans, looking disoriented and extremely pissed off.

Giles, fascinated, moved closer to the…being.

“Back off, Watcher!” Bewildered and feeling threatened, Spike drew himself up to his full eight inch height and shifted into gameface. As he did so, his iridescent blue-green wings began involuntarily to beat, and Spike stared down as his feet left the ground and he found himself hovering two feet above the floor. “FUCK me! I’m a soddin’ fairy!”

“You’re so PRETTY!” This was Tara, delight overcoming her shyness.

Spike, experimenting with his new-found ability, zipped over to hover a foot from her face. “Ta, love. Glad you like what you see.” His tone was acidic.

That close up, Tara’s aesthetic appreciation was subsumed by embarrassment; Spike was pretty, but he was also naked as hell.

“Spike…” Willow began, torn between guilt and the desire to shield her shy girlfriend.

As soon as she spoke, Spike turned his attention her way. “Yeah, Red?” Feeling belligerent, and getting the hang of his new equipment, he zoomed close to Willow, getting in her face, his naked fairy bits (still pretty impressive, comparative to overall size) flapping aggressively four inches from her nose.

Alarmed, Willow reared back against the couch cushions. “Personal bubble, Spike!” She flapped a hand in front of her face. “Shoo!”

Growling now, Spike the fairy retreated and looked around the room, taking in the two discombobulated witches, the Watcher who seemed temporarily immobilized, and the Slayer, who was writhing in her chair, laughing her skinny ass off.

Not in the mood to be ridiculed, Spike zeroed in on Buffy. Zipping around with the speed of a hummingbird, he did a fly-by on the giggling blonde, grabbing handfuls of her tacky bleached hair, pulling, and discovering that, yes, dammit, the chip was still working. Buffy screeched, and Spike, temporarily incapacitated by the pain in his tiny skull, windmilled like an out-of-control bi-plane and nearly crashed into the wall before he managed to right himself.

“STOP IT!” Giles’ uncharacteristic bellow managed to capture everyone’s attention. “Everyone just stop.” He turned to his Slayer, who, having recovered from the vicious attack on her hairdo, had resumed giggling. “Buffy, please. You’re not helping.”

His eyes sought out the er…fairy, who was now hovering near the ceiling. “You, Spike, just…light somewhere. And YOU…” He turned a stern eye on Willow. “Start. Talking.”

“Um. Ummm.” While the discomfited witch dithered, Giles removed his spectacles with one hand and extracted his handkerchief from his pocket with the other. Before he could bring the two together, Spike darted in and snatched the square of linen from the Watcher’s fingers.

Bereft, the Watcher peered at Spike as the little vampire whirred out of reach and wrapped the fabric around himself toga-style.

“Ta, ever so, mate. Don’t want to further traumatize the bints, even if they did DO THIS TO ME!” Darting in close to the two witches, then away, he bellowed at the top of his wee lungs. “Now, will you two bloody well EXPLAIN?”

“Yes, please do.” Looking very firm indeed, Giles replaced his unpolished spectacles and pinned the witches again with a rather Ripperish stare.

Willow and Tara traded uncertain looks before Tara piped up timidly. “I-i-it was just a…a FUN spell.”

Willow interrupted. “Which Tara had NOTHING to do with. I concocted it, and I talked her into trying it. It’s all my fault.”

“Quite the surprise, that.” This from Spike, who had come to rest on top of the antique clock by the door.

“Yes, quite.” Giles sounded downright steely. “Go on.”

Willow gulped. “It was in this old book I found. At a yard sale, can you believe it? It’s really harmless. You make this powder, and sprinkle it on each other. It just shows you what mythical creature you are. Like one of those online quizzes.”

Tara squeezed Willow’s hand. “Willow was the cutest little elf,” she offered fondly.

“Oh!” Willow’s face lit up. “You should have seen Tara! She was this beautiful snowy unicorn!”

“Swell!” This was Spike again, not the least bit pacified. “Can we get to the bit about the flippin’ antidote?”

“Oh! The antidote! Of course I made an antidote. I mean we’re all here and human, right?” She swallowed and looked at Giles with puppy-dog eyes. “I made the antidote first. I thought that was the responsible thing, right?”

Pained, Giles closed his eyes for an instant. “Actually, Willow, the responsible thing would have been not to dabble in frivolous magics at all.” He sighed. “Do you have the antidote with you?”

Willow was already rummaging in her purse again. After a few minutes of fruitless searching, she admitted guiltily. “I think I left it at the dorm.”

“Here’s a thought,” Spike grumbled. “Why don’t you GO GET IT?”

“On my way.” Willow was already half-way to the door.

“I’ll come with.” Tara followed hurriedly, glad to escape.

“No rush,” Buffy called after them. “This is kind of fun.” She plucked an oreo off the plate, twisted off the top and flung it Frisbee style at Spike.

Spike dodged the missile and zoomed in closer, growling. “You’re skatin’ on thin ice, Slayer.”

“You know, Spike,” She paused to nibble on the cream filling on the other half of the cookie. “You’d be a lot scarier if you didn’t sound like Mickey Mouse.”

“That’s it. You’re dead.”

“Please, you two.” Giles stepped between them. “This isn’t accomplishing anything.”

Ignoring her Watcher, Buffy leaned over to peer around him at the wee flitting vampire. “What are you going to do, get Tinkerbell and the rest of the gang to come after me?”

Enraged, and hampered both by his reduced size and by the chip, Spike hovered for a moment, little features scrunched up in thought. Then, inspired, he went for the jugular, zooming down and snatching up one of Buffy’s brand-new Pappagallo flats.

Screeching Slayer in pursuit, he shot into the kitchen, stuffed the shoe down the garbage disposal, and flipped the switch.

Feeling much better, Spike flitted back out into the living room while Buffy, wailing tragically, scrambled to turn off the disposal and extract the ruined shoe.

Rubbing suddenly aching temples, Giles fell back into Buffy’s vacated chair. “Well, there goes my security deposit,” he muttered mournfully.

********************

By the time Willow and Tara returned some forty minutes later, Giles had given up all attempts at mediation and was leaning on the kitchen bar, glumly sipping a scotch.

Buffy was liberally splotched with mud; Spike had at one point availed himself of a newly-watered philodendron, taking shelter behind the foliage and flinging handfuls of wet soil with deadly accuracy.

Incensed by the ruin of her new shoe and her white silk blouse, Buffy had moved on to serious kill tactics. Clutching a handful of toothpicks foraged from the kitchen, she stalked the fairy with ruthless determination. Spike was wisely keeping himself out of sight.

“Wh…what’s going on?” Tara asked hesitantly, Willow just behind her, looking worried.

“What’s going on is that I’m going to dust that little fairy.” Buffy’s glare coursed around the room, looking for her enemy.

“Where is he?” Willow’s voice was timid.

“Hiding, the little shit.” She turned in a slow circle. “Come out and fight like a teeny little man,” she growled.

“W-w-we have the antidote.” Tara offered.

“Right then.” Giles set his glass down with a sigh, then stood, gathering himself. “Let’s get to it. Spike?”

There was no answer, so the Watcher turned to Buffy. “Will you promise to cease hostilities, please? Just so we can get this business over with?”

Buffy heaved a put-upon sigh. “Oh, alright.” She raised her voice. “Come on out, Spike. I promise not to hurt your little fairy bad self, at least until the spell’s done.”

There was a moment of pregnant silence, then Spike emerged from hiding behind Giles’ vintage record collection, watching Buffy warily.

Willow stepped toward him, uncorking a little jar. Spike scowled at her and zoomed backwards.

“Don’t trust you, Red. I want Glinda t’ do it.”

Shamefaced, Willow hesitated, then handed off the little vial to her girlfriend.

“So, how’s this work, anyway?” Still suspicious, Spike eased a little closer to Tara.

“Don’t worry, Spike.” The blonde Witch edged closer. “It just calls back the human part of you. It’s painless, I promise. I’ve already done it myself, remember? I just have to sprinkle a pinch on you. J-j-just come a little closer, okay?”

“Right, then. Get on wit’ it.” Spike hovered close to Tara and closed his eyes.

Tara drew a deep breath, intoned a few Latin phrases, then flung a pinch of the dust on Spike.

A flash of light, a billow of smoke, and a few seconds of silence followed.

Finally, Giles spoke. “Well, that can’t be right.”

Tara stood frozen, and Willow crept closer, looked down at Spike, and gulped heavily.

“Ooh! Way to go, you guys! You’ve invented a hair changing spell.”

“Buffy, be quiet.” Giles sounded tense and unhappy.

The fairy picked himself off the floor, clutched the folds of the handkerchief closer around his tiny form, and looked up at the assembled humans, frightened blue eyes peeking out from under waves of soft brown hair.

Part Four

Xander stood mute, his eyes fixed on the pile of clothing--black denim, a t-shirt, abandoned battered Doc Martens, and an iconic leather duster--that lay pooled on Giles’ floor. His brain felt like it was in the middle of a storm. Too much information. Spike was a fairy--where was Spike? He felt the urgent need to ask that question, but his tongue was held captive by the thoughts he was thinking, what with the just figuring out why hanging out with Spike was the highlight of his week, and why he didn’t spend much time trolling for girls at the Bronze any more, and the big bunch of worrying he was suddenly doing.

Finally, he raised his eyes to Giles’. “Go on.”

“Yes, of course. As nearly as I can figure, the problem with the spell is that it, well, it was constructed for humans. The antidote produced a pre-vampiric Spike, without changing him back from his fairy form.”

“So what, we’ve got a little tiny human Spike? With wings?”

“In a word, yes.”

His mind reeling, Xander considered the other four. Giles looked concerned, Tara and Willow tearful and distressed, and Buffy cast her eyes down, avoiding his eyes guiltily.

Xander narrowed his eyes at the Slayer before turning back to Giles. “He must be scared. Is he scared? Does he remember us?”

“Well,” Giles began hesitantly, and Xander saw the Watcher’s eyes slew in Buffy’s direction. “We weren’t actually able to determine that.”

Buffy was concentrating hard at the carpet between her neatly-painted toenails.

Feeling increasingly worried, Xander raised his voice. “C’mon, you guys, spill already. Where’s Spike? What happened?”

“Well, he certainly isn’t quite himself.” Giles sounded nervous. “Before we could really determine his state of mind, er…”

Buffy stood suddenly and met Xander’s gaze defiantly. “Okay, it’s instinct, okay? I didn’t know he was all human fairy.”

Xander turned and glared at Buffy “What. Did.You. DO?”

She seemed to shrink. “I threw a toothpick at him.”

Xander was gradually admitting to himself that the vampire had come to mean something to him, but he was still taken aback by the icy dread that skittered down his spine. “Did you kill him?” His voice was very quiet.

“NO!” She shrugged, trying unsuccessfully to look indifferent. “I just…winged him.”

“JESUS, Buffy! He’s helpless! How bad was he hurt?”

Willow spoke up now. “She means literally. One of his wings is broken. He can still fly, just not very well. He screamed and” her own tears flowed again as she went on, “he started to cry, then he flew up the stairs, to the loft. He was kind of banging into things, but he got up there. We went up to look for him, but he’s hiding. That‘s when we decided to call you.”

Tara put a comforting arm around the redhead as she dissolved into sobs.

Xander closed his eyes and counted to ten, surprised at his own rage. When he opened his eyes again, his voice was flat, toneless. “Get out.”

“Xander…” This was Giles, somewhat against being thrown out of his own flat.

“Look, Giles. Just do this for me, okay? Take them…” Buffy and Willow both paled at the cold contempt in their friend’s voice. “Take them and, I don’t know, go get ice cream or something.”

Giles considered the young man for a moment, then nodded once. “Alright, Xander. Will an hour do?”

“Wait a minute!” Buffy objected, indicating her murdered shoe, and splotched face and blouse. “I can’t go like this.”

“Then go naked,” Xander hissed so savagely that Buffy stepped back, paling.

“We’ll stop by your house so you can change.” Giles assured soothingly. “Let’s be off, and let Xander do what he needs to do.”

“Thanks.” Xander could barely force the word out. As Buffy passed him, she reached out a conciliatory hand.

“Xander…”

Xander’s jaw tightened. “Don’t. Just don’t right now, okay Buff? You’re my friend and I love you, but right now I’m WAY pissed. So just go, willya?”

Chastened, Buffy withdrew her hand and followed the other three out the front door.

Xander stood there until he heard Giles’ weird little cartoon car chug away, then scrubbed his hands over his face. Some night off. He shook his head, a little bumfuzzled by the way this whole situation had forced the escalation of his budding feelings for his undead roommate into overdrive.

He couldn’t have foreseen it, but he had gone from the beginnings of warm fuzzy feeling to hardcore overprotective mode. He glanced up toward the loft, where the former Big Bad was hiding, probably terrified. Walking softly, he started up the stairs.

At the top, he called out softly. “Spike? You up here, buddy?”

No response.

Xander frowned, trying to remember what he’d read about Spike’s human life. William. That was it.

“William? Will? They’re gone. It’s just me. You know, your friend Xander?”

After an endless moment, a tiny, desolate voice sounded in the empty bedroom. “Friend? I have no friends. I think, perhaps, I deserve none.”

“I’m your friend.” Xander wondered a little at the certainty of that statement, but he recognized the truth of it. “I’m your friend,” he repeated with conviction. “Do you remember me? Do you remember anything?”

“It’s all a little hazy, but yes, I remember you.” The little voice hesitated. “Don’t we hate each other?”

Xander swallowed, feeling vulnerable. Talk about your shaky ground. “Well, yeah, that’s the whadya-call-it, conventional wisdom.” He drew a deep breath. “But the truth is, since we’ve been hanging out, I don’t hate you anymore. I really don’t.”

Another silence, and Xander prompted. “What about you? Do you hate me?”

Finally, “No. No, I don’t believe I do. Certainly, if I’ve got a friend here, it’s you.”

“Good. Okay, that’s good. So, you gonna come out and talk to me?”

“I’m sorry, Xander, I’m trying to trust you, but there are others here that I dare not trust.”

“Oh! Oh, it’s okay. I sent them away. There’s no one here but me and you.”

“They’re gone?” The little voice was hesitant.

“Yup. Giles promised me they’d be gone at least an hour. Come on out, okay? You’re safe.”

After a moment of silence, there was a small thump emanating from under a round, skirted table in one corner of the room.

Xander watched, holding his breath, as a tiny figure emerged from beneath the fabric and rose into the air, tiny wings beating. The fairly rose a few inches into the air and flew toward him until the damaged wing drew him off course and slammed the slight body into the footboard of the bed.

With an effort, Xander prevented himself from jumping forward to aid the fairy, who moaned softly and picked himself up off the floor.

Well, Tara had been right. He was pretty. He’d been pretty even before the whole fairy deal, Xander admitted to himself, but now he was pretty with a whole bunch of tiny little ‘awwww’ prettiness thrown in. The white linen of the handkerchief was barely paler than his smooth skin, and the shellacked silver-white hair had been replaced by soft, longish brown waves. He had four iridescent blue-green wings, like a dragonfly.

Xander frowned as he observed that the lower wing on the left was broken and bent, and the smooth white shoulder underneath was blooming with bruises where the damaged wing had sent the creature knocking into various surfaces.

“I can fix that,” he blurted. “Your wing, I mean. I think I can fix it, until they get you fixed. I mean, put back the way you were.” He stuttered to a halt. “If you want me to.”

The fairy stared back at him solemnly.

“I mean, do you want to come back with me? To my place? I can take care of you, until we get this all straightened out. I can keep you safe. Will you come with me?”

William raised his eyes and nodded. “I can’t trust anyone else. I’ll go with you.”

Xander ignored the way his heart was soaring and tried to be practical. “Okay, since your flying’s not so good right now, can I carry you?”

The fairy considered for a moment, then nodded, still looking unsure. “Yes, alright.”

Xander knee-walked closer to the little figure. “You’re shivering.” He didn’t know whether it was cold or shock, but the tremors were unmistakable. Xander took off his outer shirt (a red and purple Hawaiian affair that Spike had called ’tragic’), and leaned forward to wrap it around the little body, then hesitated.

“I want to keep you warm, but I don’t want to do any more damage to your wings,” he murmured.

Fairy Spike/William thought for a moment, then knitted his brow and twitched his shoulders. The jewel-like wings folded slowly in, the fairy crying out softly as the broken wing caught, quivering, before joining its fellows, the tip still sticking out awkwardly.

His heart in his throat, Xander reached forward carefully and nudged the recalcitrant wingtip with a careful fingertip, very glad when the little fairy responded only with a soft sigh as the little sheer bit joined its fellows, resting tightly against the fairy’s body.

“Okay, then.” Xander blew out a relieved breath. “Ready to go?”

The fairy’s blue, blue eyes met his, and he nodded, stepping closer to let the gigantic human wrap the shirt around his tiny, shivering body.

William lost himself in pleasure as the folds of the shirt were wound carefully about his small body. The fabric was warm and soft and redolent of Xander, his only source of comfort. Taking full advantage of this first, slight reprieve from terror, the tired little being let himself doze, only coming to when Xander laid him carefully in the passenger seat of his car.

“You just lie there and rest, Spike. I’ll have you home in a minute, and everything’s gonna be alright.” Too exhausted to do otherwise, the fairy accepted his big human friend’s word at face value, and fell into a deep sleep.

Part Five

Two hours later, Xander was sitting at his kitchen table, brow furled in concentration. Before him on the table was a burgundy velvet throw pillow, one of Anya’s useless left-behind what-nots that had now become useful. Cradled by the soft velvet, the Victorian gentleman-fairy lay prone, drowsing, modestly covered from waist to feet with Giles’ handkerchief, his little belly full of bread and honey and hot sweet tea.

Thankfully, he had been asleep or half-asleep since Xander brought him home. The magic, followed by the struggle with Buffy, had worn the little guy out, for which his caretaker was deeply grateful. Xander had no idea what Spike/William, presumably with a soul in place, would feel once fully aware.

Taking a deep breath, Xander surveyed the equipment he had gathered. Some glue, a pin to apply it in small amounts, a needle threaded with fine silk thread (thanks again to the departed Anya), and some strands of flexible nylon that had attached price tags to a new shirt. A magnifying glass. Scissors.

Xander reached up to brush his over-long hair out of his eyes, noticing that his palms were sweating. He felt a little sick. What if he hurt the fairy? Willow had said he’d cried out when the wing was broken. He’d thought about giving him some kind of pain-killer, but how the hell did you safely dose a critter this size? Even worse, what if he botched this, and his clumsiness resulted in some kind of injury to Spike when he was back to normal? Hell, he didn’t know how this worked. For all he knew, Spike would be maimed if he did nothing.

Xander was on the verge of a full-scale freak-out when the sleepy fairy turned his blue eyes in Xander’s direction and murmured softly. “Do what you must. I trust you.”

Like magic, those three little words calmed Xander. He blew out a breath, then stroked the silky brown hair with a fingertip that was growing steadier. “Okay. Good. I just need you to hold real still, okay? And you tell me if I hurt you. Will you do that?”

“I will.” The fairy arched his neck as though he enjoyed the caress, then smiled shyly up at him. “I put myself entirely in your hands, Xander.” The jewelled wings stopped their gentle fanning, lying flat and still.

William tensed the first time the needle pierced the gossamer film, and Xander froze.

“Does that hurt?”

“N-not too much. Just a little sting. Carry on.”

Xander worked quickly then, cursing his big clumsy fingers, whispering softly. “Just a few more stitches, then we’re done. Still okay?”

“I’m well. Don’t worry, Xander.”

An hour later, Xander laid down the magnifying glass and sat back in his chair, twisting his neck from side to side, working out the cricks. William had relaxed once the needle work was done, and now Xander smiled tiredly, listening to very faint, but extremely endearing, snores issuing from the fairy.

Quietly, he eased his chair back from the table and tip-toed to the fridge to snag a beer. He took a deep swallow, deeply glad that he’d been able to line up his pizza-delivery night off with his Double-Meat Palace day off; he was off the clock until seven o’clock tomorrow night.

Unable to resist, he stepped softly back to the table where Fairy William still slept. The little creature was a sight, moonlight pale skin glowing against the wine-dark velvet, soft brown hair flopping untidily about the beautiful sleeping face. Filmy wings formed a jeweled chevron on the silky back. The fine linen of Giles’ handkerchief revealed more than it hid of the tiny form, outlining the perfect curve of the tiny little butt. Xander barely resisted the urge to stroke the little form as he felt his insides turning into warm mush.

His eyes still on the snoozing fairy, Xander sat back and had himself a think. He thought about how he’d felt about Buffy, and his brief infatuations with Willow and Cordelia, neither of which had ended well (thanks to you, he thought with a fond glance at the fairy), and his love for Anya. Which now looked kinda pale compared with what he felt for…

Whoa, fella! He brought himself up short. Get a grip, he told himself. So the Big Bad had been reduced to a tiny little helpless soft-eyed soul-having fairy. And Xander was a sucker for the helpless. It didn’t mean anything, right? Giles and Willow would do that hoodoo that they do so well, and Spike would be back, wingless and soulless, larger than life, with the wicked mouth and the attitude and the eyebrow and the muscles and…and…

And Xander’s heart was swelling at the thought, as was at least one other organ. Oh, man. He had it bad.

A soft stirring on the pillow in front of him brought him out of his increasingly agitated thoughts. Spike, or William, fumbled at his linen sheet in his sleep, trying to cover more of himself.

Realizing that the fairy was cold, Xander shot out of his chair and hurried to the bedroom, found a favorite worn old flannel shirt of his, and returned to the table to take the scissors to it ruthlessly, cutting out a large rectangle which he doubled and placed carefully over the little one, who immediately snuggled contentedly into the soft fabric without waking.

Feeling sleepy himself, Xander looked at the clock over the sink. Nearly two a.m. Time for all big scoobies and little fairy vampires to be in bed.

He yawned, stretching, then bent to pick up the cushion, careful not to disturb the sleeping occupant. Setting it down on the bed, he considered for a moment, then cleared everything off the table by his bed, including the alarm clock and the twee little lamp with its beaded shade (Anya again).

He settled the cushion onto the newly bare tabletop, then knee-walked across the mattress to click on the matching (awful) lamp. After the events of the day, he didn’t want to take the chance of Spike waking up in complete darkness.

After glancing once more at his charge, who, wrapped snuggly in flannel, was again cutely snoring, Xander went to the bathroom, brushed his teeth, stripped down to his usual sleeping attire of boxers and T-shirt, checked the locks, and turned off the rest of the lights.

His duty done for the night, he stretched out on the bed with a groan, then watched the sleeping fairy until sleep closed his eyes.

*****************

Xander sat bolt-upright some two hours later, jerked out of a deep sleep by pitiable cries of terror nearby.

Disoriented, he rolled out of bed, stumbling to his feet to peer blearily down at the fairy, who, still asleep and cocooned in linen and flannel, thrashed desperately upon the cushion, caught in the throes of a terrible nightmare.

His heart melting, Xander eased two big hands under the writhing bundle, leaving the cushion behind, and, unconsciously imitating the instinctive action of new fathers everywhere, lifted William up to rest against his shoulder, one hand supporting the little bottom as he patted the fragile back with his other hand, fingertips very careful.

Time seemed to stop for a while, and that was okay with Xander. Hard to know what the future would bring, but the present was…well, kind of satisfying. Didn’t know if there was a future with Spike, didn’t know if there was anything else, either. Didn’t know about home, or picket fences, or any other of the good stuff. But just at this minute…

Xander paced slowly back and forth in rumpled boxers and t-shirt, messed hair and day’s growth of beard, and the world quiet and shut out while he cuddled his little guy, who for the moment, at least, needed him.

Part Six

Feeling strangely contented, even though his eyes were heavy with sleep, Xander wandered back and forth, cuddling his nightmare-ridden vampire/fairy/person until said vampire/fairy/person showed signs of waking, tiny fists winding into Xander’s soft t-shirt, little face pressing sighing into the side of Xander’s neck.

Murmuring softly, Xander dropped down onto the side of his bed and leaned forward, easing the little body away from his, propping his elbows on his spread knees and cradling Spike in careful hands.

A doleful fairy blinked up at him from the flannel nest, blue eyes swimming in tears, and Xander felt his insides melting into goo…some more.

“Pretty bad dream, huh?”

Spike closed his eyes and nodded, his breath coming in quick, hitching sobs. “My memories of the last many years are hazy, but not hazy enough, I fear. How could…” He swallowed. “How could I have done such things?”

Xander began to rock gently back and forth, trying to sooth them both as he parroted what he had been told, even if he had long since begun to think it was a lot more complicated than that. “It wasn’t you, baby. It was the demon.” Frowning, he paused to choose his words, unaware of the endearment that had slipped out, not noticing the soft gratitude in the fairy’s blue eyes.

“See, when you got turned into a vampire, there was a whole thing with a demon. The demon’s what did all that. I’m sorry you’ve got the memories, but it’s not your fault. You didn’t…”

“Thank you.” William/Spikes’s soft words cut Xander off in mid-flow.

“What? Oh, you’re welcome. Giles could explain it a lot better.”

“Not just for that. For everything.”

Xander blinked, abruptly feeling shy at the fairy’s suddenly direct blue gaze. True to form, in a moment of unease, he fell back into Xanderbabble.

“What, me? I didn’t do anything. Just did what anyone would do. You needed someone, right? So I came and got you. Like anyone would.” Xander quaked, nervous now.

“No.” Spike almost whispered, making Xander lean closer to catch the words. “Not just anyone. You. I was alone and friendless, and you came and saved me.”

Xander closed his eyes for a moment. “No. Not friendless. You’ll never be friendless as long as I‘m around, okay?”

“Friends always?”

“Always.” Xander promised. “Hey, you’re shaking. You’re cold, aren’t you?” Without waiting for a reply, Xander tucked Spike into the crook of his arm and backed up, easing his legs around and getting under the covers. Making himself comfortable against the pillows, he settled Spike high on his chest, pulling the comforter over both of them.

“Much better.” The fairy sighed, wriggling contentedly on the soft cotton covering Xander’s warm chest.

“Yeah. Much better.” Xander brought a hand up under the covers, carefully cupping the little body, the repaired wings tickling his palm.

The two lay for long minutes in peaceful silence, until Xander yawned mightily. “Should get you back to your own…bed.”

“May I not stay here? I fear that the dreams will return.” The little fairy was giving him a dazzlingly blue puppy-dog gaze, and again with the ooshy-gooshy feelings. And Spike was begging to sleep in his bed, a fantasy that had been creeping ever higher in the hit parade in the last few months. Except that in his fantasies, Spike wasn’t eight inches long. Well, actually…

Xander was brought out of his musings by Spike creeping a little further up his body on elbows and knees like a tiny little soldier, pouting now.

Oh, God. Not the pout. Xander was glad he was lying down, since he was pretty sure that his knees had gotten real weak, especially since Spike had now squirmed his way up into the base of his throat and curled up there.

Xander plucked the fairy up gently and scooted him back down to where he could look into the forlorn little face, maybe not such a good idea, because hey, eyes, pout.

“Look, Spike. I thrash around in my sleep. I’ve been told by everyone I’ve ever slept with.” And was that a flash of jealousy sparking those blue eyes? If only. “I don’t want to squish you by accident. ‘Cause that would be real bad.”

Spike gazed at him, little pink bottom lip poking out. “You won’t.”

“And you know that how? You don’t have vamp reflexes at the moment, y’know.”

More of the pout, and the eyes. Shit. “Okay. Here.” He lifted the fairy and settled him onto Anya’s vacant pillow. “Don’t blame me if you wake up flattened by a flailing arm or something.” He pulled up a corner of the comforter to cover the little guy.

“Thank you, Xander.” The fairy smiled at him, now pout-free.

“You’re welcome.” Xander rolled onto his side and watched Spike curl up and slide into slumber, finally falling asleep to the sound of the fairy’s soft, endearing snores.

**************

Xander woke up at mid-morning, much refreshed, with a warm little body--still snoring--curled into the side of his neck. It felt kinda nice, so he lay still, just listening to Spike sleeping, enjoying the morning sunshine that lay in honeyed bands over them.

Shit! Sunshine. Xander stiffened in a moment of panic, then remembered that Spike was human--well, not human, but not a vampire anymore. Reaching up with careful fingers, he poked gently at the little warm bundle of flannel, which awakened squirming, soft hair tickling Xander’s ear.

Turning his head cautiously, he watched Spike emerge out of his flannel, scratching lazily at his little belly, catching the folds of the handkerchief just short of satisfying Xander’s curiosity.

Fondly, Xander watched the fairy rise to his feet, balancing carefully on the soft pillow.

“’Morning, Spike.” Xander offered cautiously, noting the mild distress on the little face. “You okay?”

The fairy shifted from foot to foot, the distress seeming to deepen.

“Spike? What’s wrong?”

“Err,” The fairy blushed pink, almost dancing. “It’s been some time, you see, but I think I need….erm…the facilities.”

“The what?” Xander stared at the fairy, puzzled, for a moment, then, “Oh! Oh, okay. You need to go to the bathroom?”

Avoiding his eyes, Spike nodded. “Rather urgently, I’m afraid.”

“Oh!” Xander rolled to his feet quickly and plucked Spike up unceremoniously, heading for the bathroom, trying to figure out the logistics. “So, do you just need to pee, or…”

His blush deepening to poppy-red, Spike hurriedly broke in. “Yes, just that.”

“Oh, well, okay, no problem.” Xander entered the bathroom and set the fairy on his feet on the edge of the sink as fast as speed would allow. “There you go.”

Spike gave him a startled look. “Oh, no. I couldn’t possibly…”

“Spike…”

“It wouldn’t be decent.” Spike’s jaw was firm with determination, in spite of the little dance he was doing.

Feeling harried, Xander plucked up the fairy and plunked his little feet down on the toilet seat. “There you go. Now be careful, the surface isn’t level, so be careful, willya?” He pushed aside the terrible vision of his little fairy crying for help as he spun in the whirlpool.

“I DO have wings, Xander.” Spike was fumbling under the folds of his makeshift turban.

“Which we haven’t tested since my repairs. So be CAREFUL.”

“I shall, but…do you mind?” The fairy’s hands had stilled under their tent of linen.

“What? Oh, yeah right.” Xander turned his back, feeling stupid, then smiled in spite of himself at the soft groan of pleasure that preceded the delicate sound of Spike peeing, and how cute was that?

A contented sigh, a few last droplets, then, “I’m finished.”

“Swell.” He turned and picked Spike up carefully, set him on the vanity, then turned him around to face away. “You just stand there. You’re not the only one with needs, ‘kay? And if I don‘t get to watch, neither do you.”

Feeling a certain urgency himself, Xander positioned himself in front of the bowl, extracted his cock, aimed, and let go, watching the fairy from the corner of his eye.

Spike fidgeted on the counter, and Xander felt his spirits rising. Oh, yeah. He wanted to peak. He definitely did.

Part Seven

At 5:00, Xander parked his car and headed for his front door, nonchalantly carrying a paper shopping bag. At the door, he paused to peek down into the bag. “You okay in there?”

“S’alright,” answered Spike, his little voice artificially gruff, then giggled giddily.

Feeling a little giddy himself, Xander snorted with laughter and unlocked the door. Once in their own space, he set the bag on the table and watched, grinning, as Spike shot straight out, mended wing working perfectly.

Xander dropped down onto the sofa and watched as the fairy made a dizzying circle of the room then dropped lightly down on the table at Xander’s elbow.

Xander rolled his head against the back of the sofa and considered the sight before him. “You’re a mess,” he observed fondly.

“I imagine that I am.” Spike grinned and hopped closer, lighting on Xander’s knee. His eyes softened. “Thank you again, Xander. It’s been a wonderful day.”

“Yeah. It has.” He smiled into those happy blue eyes.

***************

He’d made scrambled eggs and bacon and canned biscuits, set out butter and blackberry jam. They had ended up eating out of the same plate, Spike settled cross-legged beside it, Xander’s enjoyment of the meal heightened by the fairy’s gusto as he savored bits of food with obvious pleasure.

Spike had somehow fashioned his handkerchief into Yul Brynner-esque King and I trousers-- “Indian chap I knew showed me how”--a look that Xander found very becoming.

Giles had called just as they finished the meal to request their presence at 6:30; he and Willow thought they had the right spell.

Xander glanced over to where Spike lay on his back on the table, rubbing his belly contentedly, a tiny smear of jam on his chin. “So, this spell is going to put him back the way he was?”

His attention caught, Spike turned his head lazily to look in Xander’s direction.

“We hope so, but just in case it produces…erm…unexpected results, we’ve got a reversal spell that will…er…undo it.”

“I see. Hold on a sec.” He muffled the phone against his midriff and gave Spike a run-down.

The fairy nodded thoughtfully, then asked apprehensively. “Will that…will Buffy be there?”

“Hold on.” Xander carried the phone back to his ear. “Giles, is Buffy gonna be there?”

Giles dithered. “Well, yes, I suppose…”

“No, Giles. She needs to stay away.”

“Xander, I…”

“No.” Xander was firm. “No offense, Giles, but she needs to stay away this time.” A glance at the fairy revealed a look of profound gratitude. “I mean it, Giles. It’s a deal-breaker.”

On the other end of the line, the Watcher sighed heavily. “Very well, Xander. I’ll telephone her at once.”

“Thanks, Giles. We’ll see you then.”

Xander replaced the phone on its cradle, then turned to find the fairy trying out his wings, bouncing higher and higher from the surface of the table, finally zooming confidently from the table to the back of a nearby chair, where he balanced happily, sea-colored wings fluttering.

Enjoying the sight, and not in any way willing to let Spike deal with the results of the spell on his own, Xander dialed another number, calling in sick at his pizza-delivery job, reporting a case of ‘flu that would keep him out for a few days, and very likely get him fired. Somehow, with his own personal gorgeous fairy flitting happily about the room, little things like jobs didn’t seem to matter much.

“Okay, li’l buddy.” He stood and approached the fairy, who was currently hovering playfully in a ray of sunshine peeking through the drapes. “We’ve got plenty of time before we have to be anywhere. What do you want to do?”

The hovering fairy favored him with a blinding smile. “Can we go outside?”

***************

Yeah, it had been a great day. Xander had taken his fairy to a park nearby with a private little clearing where Spike could romp freely.

The fairy had clearly enjoyed himself, and Xander had had the time of his life. Now, observing the little being perched Peter Pan-style on his knee, Xander took in the muddy feet and legs, the bits of grass and leaves caught in the brown hair, and the dribbles of their shared chocolate ice cream cone adorning the bare torso. Frowning a little, he also noted the tell-tale pink of sunburn on the tiny shoulders, back and chest.

“You need a bath,” he stated firmly.

“You do too.” Spike, feeling his oats, flashed even white teeth, hopping lightly.

Xander was sure he was right; the day had been warm, and he’d run himself ragged following the gamboling fairy, guarding against dangers real and imagined. No rabid squirrel or out-of-control Pekingese was going to get his Spike, no sirree.

Before Xander could formulate a plan, Spike spoke up. “We’re a bit short on time; shall we share that bath, then?”

Xander blinked, swallowing hard.

*************

That bath would live in Xander’s memory until the day he died. Him reclining in the luke-warm water--Spike was sunburned, after all--far from relaxed, while he washed a little Victorian fairy who had completely forgotten his shyness. The same couldn’t be said for Xander, who blushed beet-red when Spike’s naked glory got him hard as a rock. Bad, bad Xan, he chided himself. Spike’s just a little guy. He shrugged off the little message his mind sent back that he wasn’t always going to be that way, because that thought? SO not helping.

Balanced on Xander’s knees, the fairy craned his neck with pleasure as Xander massaged shampoo into Spike’s unruly brown locks with careful fingertips.

“Okay. You’re done. Hold your breath for the rinse, okay?”

Spike, almost purring with pleasure, nodded, and Xander straightened his legs, lowering his knees until the fairy was submerged. Seconds later, Xander grabbed up the little body, relieved as the fairy shook himself like a dog, grinning at Xander.

Spike then splashed contentedly at the foot of the bathtub, sneaking surreptitious glances while his big friend washed his own body. Spike found Xander’s body pleasing in the extreme, and when Xander ducked under the water to rinse his hair, the fairy took the opportunity to stare unobserved at the big erect manhood, wishing that he was back to his own full size.

Embarrassed by his own wantonness, the fairy flickered his wings, rising straight out of the water like a helicopter. By the time Xander sat up, shaking his wet, longish locks out of his face, Spike was perched on the vanity, toweling off with the washcloth Xander had provided for that purpose.

Ten minutes later, Xander was dressed and Spike was lying face down on a towel, sighing with pleasure as Xander stroked aloe vera ointment onto his sun-pinkened back and shoulders.

Having finished that pleasurable task, Xander retrieved Spike’s white linen hanky/pants out of the dryer, having washed them out in the sink, scrubbing to remove grass stains and traces of chocolate ice cream. Spike re-created the garment deftly, enjoying the fresh-from-the-dryer warmth.

Xander shrugged into his jacket and came forward carrying the shopping bag. Spike made to hop into it.

“Wait a minute.” Xander produced the length of flannel he’d cut out of his shirt the night before. “The evening air’s cold.” He wrapped the fabric carefully around the little figure, who looked up at him with soft eyes.

“Thank you, Xander.”

“Don’t want you to catch cold.” Xander mumbled, shy under the blue gaze.

“Won’t matter after tonight, right? I’ll be…the way I was.” The blue eyes looked troubled as he added under his breath. “Then what?”

Xander hunkered down ‘til he was eye-to-eye with the fairy. “No matter what happens, you live here with me, okay? Long as you want to. Friends, right?”

“Yes, friends. Thank you.” Xander smiled at Spike’s obvious gratitude, and hoped that restored Spike would be as willing to stay there with him.

************

Xander got to Giles’ at 6:30 on the dot, shopping bag in hand. The furniture had been pushed back, and Tara was carefully creating a circle on the floor with some multi-colored dust. Giles and Willow were bent over a large leather-bound volume, carrying on a conversation in whispered tones.

Giles was the first to look up and notice the new arrivals. “Ah, excellent, Xander.” He frowned. “Did you bring…”

Xander nodded at Giles and settled the shopping bag on a side table. Immediately, Spike, having shrugged himself free of the flannel, fluttered up out of the bag.

“Oh, hello, Spike.” The Watcher half-smiled. “Very nice dhoti. Well folded.” Xander frowned, then realized that Giles was referring to the fairy’s make-shift garment. A new vocabulary word for the Xan-man.

“Y-y-you look like a little maharaja,” This was Tara, distracted from her work to smile at the fairy.

“Thank you, Tara.” Spike hovered a foot or so from the shy witch, liking her.

“Yes, you look nice, Spike.” This was Willow, coming forward. “Listen, I just want to tell you how sorry I am about all this. I never meant…”

“It’s quite alright, Willow.” Spike floated at a discreet distance from her face, very much the gentleman. “It’s turned out to be…a rather enjoyable experience.” He shot a quick glance in the direction of Xander, who smiled at him.

“Well, good then.” This was Giles. “Let’s all sit down, and I’ll explain how this is all to work.

They all found their seats, and Xander’s heart went into double-time when his very own fairy settled onto the arm of his chair and leaned lightly against Xander’s shoulder.

“Now,” Giles began, the ancient book settled on his knee, “This is how we begin…”

********

Fifteen minutes later, the spell completed, the smoke cleared to reveal Spike seated cross-legged in the middle of the circle, chin propped on one fist, finger of the other hand drumming impatiently on the floor. Platinum hair gleamed under the restored lights, and the jewel-like blue-green wings fluttered impatiently.

“Jesus on a rock,” he groused. “You lot could screw up a wet dream.”

“Oh dear.” This was Giles, rubbing his forehead distractedly. “That didn’t go exactly as expected.”

The two witches fluttered, dithering, wondering about the next step.

Xander stood mutely, grieving a little for the loss of his little human fairy and wondering what was next.

Fairy Spike, looking weary, stood and laid down the law. “Will you lot try and get it right? In the meantime…” His eyes found Xander’s, and Xander caught his breath at the vulnerability there in those blue, blue eyes. “Can we go just go home?”

Part Eight

Author’s note: When I wrote Part 7, I didn’t mean to imply that Fairy!Spike was returned to full size; however, about half of the folks that commented assumed that was the case, so I’m going with it. Spike is still a fairy, but he’s back to original size. Sorry for the confusion. Now, on with the tale.

“Wait a moment.” Giles stepped forward, a hand raised. “I can understand your frustration, Spike, but this was an entirely unforeseen result of the spell. I must ask that you stay just a bit longer so that we can establish some facts.”

“Look, Watcher…” Before Spike could finish his sentence, the front door opened and Buffy entered, took one look at Spike, and burst into laughter.

Giles’ turned and regarded his Slayer with mild irritation. “Buffy, I thought we agreed that you would take a night off.”

“Sorry, Giles,” she offered between gales of giggles. “I figured you would be done by now and I was curious, and...” She gestured at Spike, who stood scowling, clutching the tiny remains of his dhoti/hanky pants to his groin. “I’m definitely glad I didn’t miss this! I mean, I‘ve never seen a five-and-a-half foot tall fairy. At least not one with wings.”

“Five-eleven, Slayer!” Irritated past bearing, the big fairy flapped his wings angrily, shooting up and banging the top of his head sharply into the plaster ceiling.

Finally emerging from his paralysis, Xander moved quickly to Spike, who, having fallen on his butt, was sitting rubbing his head.

“Buffy, will you either shut up or go away? Giles, would you please find something for Spike to wear?” His voice softening, he turned to the fairy. “And you, did you hurt yourself? Let me see your head.”

Spike batted his hand away. “Leave off. I’m fine.” Spike’s voice was gruff, but he caught Xander’s fingers in his for an instant and offered a private little half-smile just for him.

And still with the ooshy-gooshy. Returning the smile shyly, Xander knee-walked to the side. “I want to take a look at your wing, ‘kay, Spike?”

Spike nodded wordlessly, and Xander bent his head close to examine the injured wing. Fortunately, the repairs had held through Spike’s size change, and the wing was healing nicely.

“Um, Spike, are you okay?” This was Willow, still sounding extremely apologetic, and, along with Tara, studiously avoiding looking at the expanse of fairy skin on display.

“Actually, Red, I’m not. I’m a gigantic naked fairy with a concussion.” Spike snapped bitterly. “But thanks for asking.”

“Well, at least you’re not eight inches any more.”

“More like nine and a half.” Spike smirked, and Willow retreated, blushing and abashed, while Xander suppressed a groan at the sudden tightening in his groin, involuntarily glancing down at the scrap of white linen inadequately covering Spike’s heavy sex.

“Gee, Spike, I’m beginning to think you’re prone to exaggeration.” Buffy, still enjoying the situation way too much, happened to be walking past Xander and Spike as she spoke, and Spike, never one for impulse control, stuck out one long leg, tripping the Slayer, who fell heavily, banging her elbow painfully on the coffee table.

“OW! Okay, that’s it, Bleachy. You’re so dead.” She scrambled to her feet, furious.

“Bring it on, Slayer. Apparently, government issue vampire chips don’t work on fairies.” Spike surged to his feet, facing Buffy down.

“ENOUGH!” Giles hurried down the stairs, carrying a small stack of garments. “Can we please put out petty difficulties aside until we find a solution to the problem at hand?” He gave Buffy a quelling glance then turned to Spike.

“Here’s something you can wear, if you’d just like to…” He gestured in the direction of the downstairs bathroom.

“Not to worry.” Ignoring the hint, Spike stepped nimbly into the sweatpants Giles had given him. “Those who don’t want to see can look away.”

“Too late! My eyes!” Buffy complained shrilly while the witches took a sudden interest in the ceiling. Xander’s eyes glassed over.

Unconcerned, Spike handed Giles his much-worse-for-wear handkerchief. “’Ere y’ go, mate. Ta very much.”

Grimacing, Giles accepted the scrap dubiously with finger and thumb, dropping it hastily on the side table nearby. “Hrrrmph.” Clearing his throat, he offered a worn t-shirt. “We can cut holes for your wings, I suppose…”

“No need.” With a look of concentration, Spike drew in his wings, folding them closely against his back, then donned the over-sized t-shirt.

Settling the garment, he turned again to Xander. “Like I said, can we just get out of here?”

Nodding wordlessly, Xander gathered up his things, preparing for departure.

“Please, wait.” This was Giles again, looking harassed. “Before we do further research, we need to know…”

“Need to know what, Watcher?” Spike shot a quick glance to Xander, whose relative silence was beginning to concern him, then continued. “Let’s consider the facts. You lot fucked me up. I’m a big fairy. All you have to do is change me back.”

“Well, for one thing, what’s the difference between the way you are now, and the human/fairy hybrid you were last night? You say that the chip is inactive? Are you sure?”

Spike looked thoughtful for a moment, then turned and delivered a sharp jab to the Slayer’s nose.

“OW! That’s it, I’m killing you now!” Buffy dived forward, producing a stake from her waistband, one hand catching the blood dripping from her face before it could fall on her blouse.

Spike knocked her arm up forcefully, sending the stake flying, and danced nimbly out of her way. “There you go. No chip. Still got me strength, though.”

Xander thrust himself between the two combatants. “Knock it off, Buffy. I mean it!”

“Whose side are you on, Xander?” Buffy scowled at him. “Get out of the way, I’ve got shoes to avenge.”

Xander, surprising himself, met Buffy nose to nose, belligerent “Right now, I’m on Spike’s side. Leave him alone! I mean it Buff. You back down right now.”

Giles stepped in then, and the Witches. Within a few minutes, everyone was seated, but the tension was high.

Giles sent one final quelling glance around the circle, then went into Watcher mode. “Spike, do you have a craving for blood?“

Spike thought about it for only a second. “Not so much. Could do with something sweet, though.” He shot Xander a covert glance, and Xander felt a blush suffusing his body.

Missing the byplay, Giles nodded with satisfaction. “Ah, yes. The famous fairy sweet tooth. Oh, of course! Can you shift into your vampire guise?”

Spike frowned and gave his head a shake. Nothing.

“It seems that you are indeed fully fairy, but just to make certain…”

“I know!” Buffy spoke up. “I’ll stake him through the heart, and if he doesn’t go poof, then we’ll know for sure.”

“Buffy, a stake through the heart would kill a fairy as well.” Giles spoke reprovingly as Xander edged protectively closer to Spike, scowling in Buffy’s direction.

“So?” Buffy glared at Spike, twirling her retrieved stake.

Xander and Giles both opened their mouths, but before they could speak, shy Tara spoke up. “Buffy, fairies are harmless creatures. W-w-we can’t kill him.” As all eyes turned her way, she blushed red and dropped her eyes, retreating behind her shining curtain of hair.

Willow spoke up, patting Tara’s hand. “Tara’s right. We did this to Spike, and we have an obligation to make it right.”

“Harmless?? He punched me!” Buffy had automatically grabbed the nearest thing to stanch the bleeding, and was, all unaware, pressing Spike’s erstwhile hankypants to her bleeding nose.

“Regrettable, but hardly a reason for killing.” Giles ignored the soft snickers issuing from the fairy. “I’m sorry, but I must concur with Tara and Willow. We must correct Spike’s…erm…condition.” He hesitated for a moment, then turned to the fairy. “Spike, it would help immensely if you would let us take a small sample of your blood.”

“Oi! Forget it! No one’s cuttin’ me open!” Unconsciously, he eased a little closer to Xander’s side

“Only a few drops, I assure you, Spike, and it would help to get to the bottom of this.”

Spike sighed and acceded reluctantly, but turned mulish when Giles returned with a sterilized scalpel and test tube. “Want Xander to do it. Don’t trust the rest of you lot.”

Xander wasn’t especially keen on cutting into his fairy, but Spike trusted him, so he accepted the implements in slightly trembling hands and took one of Spike’s warm, graceful hands in his and, swallowing heavily, made a tiny cut in one slender fingertip. Squeezing gently, he caught a few drops into the tube, then handed the container to Giles.

The Watcher hurried over to his makeshift lab table with the sample, the Witches at his heels.

Xander glanced around furtively. Giles, Willow and Tara were already absorbed in research. Buffy, her nosebleed having abated, was staring in dawning horror at the bit of fabric in her hand.

Seeing no one watching, Xander turned his back to the room and boldly pressed a kiss to the tiny wound on the hand he still held, then look quickly up, afraid of being rebuffed. To his relief, the blue eyes were glowing warmly, and the warm fingers tightened around his own.

“Home now, pet?” Spike’s voice was a low purr that went straight to Xander’s groin.

“Yeah, Spike” Xander breathed softly. “Home.”

Unnoticed by the others, the two slipped quietly out of the apartment.

************

The trip home was made largely in silence, anticipation sparking between them like electricity.

Once home, Xander dropped his keys on the stand by the door and shrugged out of his jacket, nervous, but wanting. God, how he wanted. Turning to Spike, who stood still by the door, he wiped sweaty palms on his khaki-clad thighs, looking for encouragement.

Spike stepped closer, his warm blue eyes reflecting Xander’s own desire. They stared at each other for a pregnant moment, then, suddenly, they crashed together, mouths seeking, melding in a kiss that weakened Xander’s knees.

Ten frantic minutes later, they were naked in Xander’s bed, carried there by mindless lust. Sheets twisted around their hips, Spike, panting, lay half on his side, half on his stomach, moaning softly as Xander pressed kisses on the delicate skin between the fairy’s jewel-like wings. The soft flesh there, or perhaps the silky wings themselves, gave off a scent like vanilla and night-blooming blossoms, and Xander felt light-headed with it, his cock so hard it ached and seeped against his belly.

A sudden flash of light interrupted the mood, and Xander squawked in reaction to the apparent disappearance of his fairy lover. After a frozen moment, though, there was a small flutter of the sheets, and a tiny voice spoke up conversationally.

“In my present condition, I can’t murder the lot of ’em myself, but I can certainly give you the benefit o’ my experience, if you want to do the deed.

Xander helped the tiny figure free himself from the bedding, then flopped onto his back, forearm over his eyes. “Ya know, right at this moment, it’s tempting.

Part Nine

A sudden flash of light interrupted the mood, and Xander squawked in reaction to the apparent disappearance of his fairy lover. After a frozen moment, though, there was a small flutter of the sheets, and a tiny voice spoke up conversationally.

“In my present condition, I can’t murder the lot of ’em myself, but I can certainly give you the benefit o’ my experience, if you want to do the deed.

Xander helped the tiny figure free himself from the bedding, then flopped onto his back, forearm over his eyes. “Ya know, right at this moment, it’s tempting.


Fairy Dust Part 9

Xander opened his eyes slowly in the mid-morning sunshine and sighed contentedly, smiling goofily until he became aware of a rather strange sensation. Puzzled, he pulled the sheet back slowly, looking down his body, then stifled a soft snort of laughter.

Snoring his tiny fairy snore, Spike slept on Xander’s groin, snuggled up to Xander’s half-hard penis.

Spike came awake abruptly as his personal body pillow twitched violently, jerking out of his embrace. “Oi!” He rolled onto his back, wings folded close to his body, and stretched, tilting his head back to give Xander a drowsy upside-down pout. “Was sleepin’.”

Xander grinned down at him. “So sue me. Men react strongly to visual stimuli, y’know. And that was both cute and hot.”

Spike rubbed his eyes and grumbled “M’not cute.”

“You are too. Plus you’re grumpy in the mornings.”

Spike grunted, had himself another luxurious stretch, then rolled up onto his knees, bracing himself casually against Xander’s cock, which was now at full attention, what with all the wiggling around down there.

“Jesus, Spike” Xander groaned softly, “would you come up here before someone gets hurt?”

“Anything for you, luv.” Spike began a slow, sinuous crawl up Xander’s torso, finally stretching himself out on Xander’s throat, chuckling as he rode the vibrations of wordless sounds of arousal.

Xander tilted his head up to give his fairy full access, clutching handfuls of bedding as tiny teeth nibbled at the vulnerable flesh just below his jaw.

When Xander was writhing, his heartbeat galloping, Spike scooted backwards onto the boy’s chest so he could look into chocolate-brown eyes. “Mornin’, luv.”

“Oh, my god.” Xander blinked at Spike dazedly. “You’re a fucking menace. If you can do this to me now, what happens when you’re back to full size? You’ll probably kill me, that’s what.

“But what a way to go, eh, luv?” Grinning, Spike stretched out sideways on Xander’s chest, leaning up on one elbow, bare toes brushing idly against a nipple, which hardened at the contact. “So, pet…” Dark lashes batted flirtatiously over sapphire-blue eyes. “Did you sleep well?”

Xander, his own eyes dark and velvety, stroked a finger down the side of Spike’s slim little body, shoulder, ribs, hip, thigh. “After last night? Are you kidding?” The single fingertip paused then made the return trip, stroking firm little belly and chest as Spike lolled onto his back Xander’s voice dropped to a soft whisper. “I slept like a baby.”


*******************


After last night’s fun and games had been called on account of severe fairy shrinkage, Spike’s suggestion of homicide all around had been damn tempting. Fortunately, the phone had rung before Xander had crossed completely over to the dark side.

“Ah, Xander. Sorry to be calling so late. I do hope you were still up?” Giles sounded tentative.

Xander did his best to ignore both his own frustration and the remarkably foul-mouthed fairy flitting angrily about the room, but he couldn’t completely suppress the hint of irony in his voice. “Oh, yes, G-man. I’m definitely still up.”

Perhaps aware of the tinge of hostility, Giles proceeded cautiously. “Well…er…I’m glad that I didn’t wake you.” He paused. “Xander, did anything happen just now?”

Xander gripped the phone until his knuckles turned white, but did his best to keep his voice level. “No, Giles. Nothing happened just now. Something nearly happened….but no, nothing happened. Oh, except Spike went poof and shrank back to Ken-doll size again. But otherwise, no, nothing. Zero. Zip. Nada.”

“Oh, dear. I was afraid of something like that.” Giles sounded pained, and Xander could practically hear the frantic polishing of spectacles through the phone line.

“Willow and I were tinkering with the incantation when Tara noticed some signs of reaction in Spike’s blood. I suspected that its presence might serve as a link that would enable the spell to work long-distance. I do apologize for any inconvenience.”

“Yeah.” Xander would have said more had not his brain suddenly begun to shut down; Spike had settled on his shoulder and sunk tiny little teeth into his earlobe. Giles droning in his right ear, Spike nibbling on his left…no contest there.

With supreme effort, he gathered his liquefied brains together enough to communicate verbally. “Giles, do me a favor and try not to incant in front of any part of Spike without giving us some warning, ‘kay?”

“Oh, yes, of course. With any luck, we’ll be ready for another attempt to reverse the spell tomorrow afternoon. I’ll be in touch.”

In the meantime, Spike had stopped biting and moved on to licking. Squirming, Xander made some sort of goodbye noise, then managed, after two or three tries, to turn off the phone with suddenly nerveless fingers.

“YOU,” he moaned breathlessly “are a very, very bad fairy.” Xander was beginning to pant like a big, goofy dog. Trying to recover some kind of control, he plucked the naked fairy off his shoulder, cradling him in his big palms.

Spike, tiny, naked and aroused, grinned seductively up at him. “That I am, luv. That I am.”

Part Ten

“But you like me bad, don’t you, Xan?” With a twitch of his shoulders, Spike levitated out of careful hands and floated before Xander’s eyes, wings a blue-green blur that wafted that delicious scent, tiny hand stroking an erection that was, all things considered, not especially tiny at all.

“Yeah. Yeah, I do.” Xander had to work at forcing the words out of a throat that had gone dry.

“Lie down on the bed, pet.” The fairy was so close to Xander’s face that the movement of the fragrant wings created a breeze that disarranged strands of dark hair and cooled Xander’s flushed cheeks. “Lie down, and let me look at you. Can’t do much right now, luv, but we can look. Lay yourself down for me an’ let me look at you.”

Enthralled and too aroused for shyness, Xander did as he was bid, stretching out on the bed and kicking the covers down so that the hovering fairy could see all of him.

“Christ, Xan! Look at you. Magnificent, aren’t you?” Spike hovered at the foot of the bed, still stroking himself, blue eyes avid. Below him, heart pounding, Xander lay spread out, sweetly vulnerable, long swimmer’s body exposed to his gaze.

“Guess it’s no secret that I’ve fancied you for a while, even before I knew what you were hiding under those clothes. And now…” The fairy chuckled. “Just the sight o’ you, pet. ’S enough to send me wild.”

Crazy excited and squirming, nervous but further aroused by Spike’s admission, Xander closed his eyes, his hands fisting into the sheets, then forced his eyes open and raised his arms hesitantly, searching for a grip and, finding none, scrabbling at the worn upholstery at of the head of the sofa bed.

Interesting, Spike thought. The boy was enthralled, and Spike wasn‘t above taking full advantage. “Ohhh, yeah. Yer a beauty, right enough.” The fairy hovered closer, eyes avid. “Just you wait until I’ve got m’ weight back. Gonna tie y’ up nice an’ tight, then cover y’ with kisses head to toe.”

Xander moaned softly at the words, his body arching up to meet empty air. “God, Spike.” His cock bobbed against his stomach, wetting his skin.

Almost cooing with pleasure, Spike darted down lightly and tasted, like a butterfly after nectar. “You’re sweet, luv. Sweet like honey.” Dazzled, Xander watched the warm lamplight catching the glittering wings as the fairy moved again up his body, lighting again to bite gently at a hard nipple.

Xander hissed at the feeling, twisting on the mattress. “Jesus. This is so hot, and SO wrong.”

“Nah.” Spike made his way slowly down the landscape of Xander’s big muscled torso, nipping here and there. “Not wrong. We’ve got a little logistical problem, but we’re horny for each other, and when that lot finally manage to put me right…” He left the thought unfinished as he caught Xander’s enormous cock in his arms and mouthed the sensitive arrow of flesh just under the head, then tongued the weeping slit.

Xander, whimpering, clutched at the pillow beneath his head until the pillowcase tore under his tense fingers, and holding the rest of his body rigidly still, lest he buck off his amorous passenger.

“Wanna come, luv?” Spike licked eagerly around the little hole, then pressed in his tongue again.

“GOD, yes.” Xander muttered through clenched teeth.

With a last fond kiss, Spike reluctantly released his boy’s huge erection and sidled back to perch on Xander’s quivering thigh. “Wish I could bring y’ off myself, pet. Will, soon.” He dropped his hand to his own cock and resumed stroking. “Now I wanna watch you, luv. Touch yerself; show me how you like it.”

No need to ask him twice. Xander wrapped shaking fingers around his erection and fell into the familiar rhythm, eyes pinned on the his fairy, who was matching him stroke for stroke.

“So lovely y’ are, Xan.” The fairy was panting and heavy eyed.

“Not gonna…last long” Xander groaned.

“S’alright, luv. Just takin’ the edge off ‘til I can do y’ right, yeah? Can’t wait. Gonna suck y’ proper like, swallow y’ right down and get y’ nice and wet and hard so y’ can slide that monster o’ yours right up my tight arse and fuck me through the mattress.”

“GOD, Spike!” Xander stripped himself harder, teetering on the edge.

“Then I’m gonna do you; make it so good for you, fill you so full of me…”

That did it. Xander howled, coming in arcs on his belly and chest, hearing Spike’s wordless cry as warm drops wet the skin of his thigh.

Feeling wrung out in the best possible way, Xander cleaned himself off clumsily with the sheet then fell into sleep with a warm little weight nestling against his neck.

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