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tarotgalI'm not sure how long my mind will think "Scotland" when I think of Spike/Xander, but apparently it still does. So here's some fic with half-human Spike and angst and nighttime feels.
Xander found getting away and staring up at the moon the most sobering and calming activity since moving to Scotland. He’d never asked for this life; it had been thrust upon him when he had been a kid in high school. He couldn’t have imagined back then how long and difficult a road it would be. So much had changed, but the moon… the moon was the same. It was the same moon he’d looked up at in Sunnydale when he’d gone patrolling with Buffy through the cemeteries. It was the same moon he’d seen the night before the Battle at the Hellmouth when he had lost Anya and, technically, Spike.
“Hey love.”
Xander smiled, both at his partner’s appearance and at the reassurance that Spike hadn’t been lost for good. “You found me.”
“Not so hard to do,” Spike said, climbing the last stair and walking over to sit beside Xander on the castle battlement. “You always come up here to think.” He rubbed his hand up and down Xander’s back. “Are you worried about what the witches saw?”
Xander didn’t answer apart from shrugging. It was as good as a yes, though.
“You worry too much.”
“Considering what’s at stake, I don’t think I worry nearly enough.” After all, it was only the fate of the entire world in their hands.
“Hhn.”
Xander’s head snapped to the side. He knew that sound all too well. “Are you getting sick...?” The word ‘again’ died on his lips, but they both knew it was there anyway.
And Spike didn’t say a thing, because he couldn’t lie and deny it but neither could he bring himself to confirm it. It was like all those decades of being a vampire and immune to diseases and viruses were catching up with him now that he was human. Hopefully this was just another cold and nothing worse.
Placing the back of his hand against Spike’s forehead to feel for fever was a gesture his younger self would never have believed him capable of. “Not hot,” he declared.
Spike frowned. “I’m plenty hot,” he objected, his hand to his now beating heart as if the declaration had wounded him.
Xander smirked, taking his meaning. “Maybe for the 1970s.” He tugged on the sleeve of Spike’s black leather jacket. Then his hand slid up and his fingertips stroked Spike’s short, platinum blonde hair.
“For the ‘70s and for you, luv.”
He wasn’t wrong there.
“Hhhhh!” Spike pressed his fist against his nose, which was twitching with an approaching sneeze. Sometimes, with some pressure or rubbing at his nose, he managed to get them to go away. Most times, however, he couldn’t stop them. Like this time, for example. “HihhShoo!”
“Bless you,” Xander said reflexively. “Let’s go inside before you get chilled.”
“Too late.” He scooted over toward Xander who immediately wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. The leather jacket was more of a fashion statement than anything else, but he was still glad that Spike had the extra layer.
Of course, now that he had Spike snuggled against his side, he didn’t want to move. He had his man and had the moon and, for a few minutes of his life, everything was just that simple.
“h’Shuhh!” Spike sneezed, his hand cupped over the lower half of his face as he snapped forward.
Not that simple after all. “Inside. Into something warmer. Into bed.”
“Mmm. Bed sounds wonderful.” Xander stood and pulled Spike up with him as well. As they moved toward the stairs, Spike looked over his shoulder and up at the moon. “Don’t like the moon anyway.”
Xander froze. “What? Who doesn’t like the moon?”
“Someone who spent a century staring at it and wishing to see the sun.”
That made sense. Xander pecked his cheek. “Well then, let’s come up here during the day sometime. Coffee and scones and a flannel blanket and a beautiful sunrise.”
“Sounds good to… hnn! Hhh… h’urchoo! Hihchoo!”
Xander patted Spike’s chest then guided him to head down the stairs first. “But let’s wait until you’re feeling better.”
Sniffling, Spike nodded and headed toward their room.
12. Moon, Spike/Xander, Buffyverse
Xander found getting away and staring up at the moon the most sobering and calming activity since moving to Scotland. He’d never asked for this life; it had been thrust upon him when he had been a kid in high school. He couldn’t have imagined back then how long and difficult a road it would be. So much had changed, but the moon… the moon was the same. It was the same moon he’d looked up at in Sunnydale when he’d gone patrolling with Buffy through the cemeteries. It was the same moon he’d seen the night before the Battle at the Hellmouth when he had lost Anya and, technically, Spike.
“Hey love.”
Xander smiled, both at his partner’s appearance and at the reassurance that Spike hadn’t been lost for good. “You found me.”
“Not so hard to do,” Spike said, climbing the last stair and walking over to sit beside Xander on the castle battlement. “You always come up here to think.” He rubbed his hand up and down Xander’s back. “Are you worried about what the witches saw?”
Xander didn’t answer apart from shrugging. It was as good as a yes, though.
“You worry too much.”
“Considering what’s at stake, I don’t think I worry nearly enough.” After all, it was only the fate of the entire world in their hands.
“Hhn.”
Xander’s head snapped to the side. He knew that sound all too well. “Are you getting sick...?” The word ‘again’ died on his lips, but they both knew it was there anyway.
And Spike didn’t say a thing, because he couldn’t lie and deny it but neither could he bring himself to confirm it. It was like all those decades of being a vampire and immune to diseases and viruses were catching up with him now that he was human. Hopefully this was just another cold and nothing worse.
Placing the back of his hand against Spike’s forehead to feel for fever was a gesture his younger self would never have believed him capable of. “Not hot,” he declared.
Spike frowned. “I’m plenty hot,” he objected, his hand to his now beating heart as if the declaration had wounded him.
Xander smirked, taking his meaning. “Maybe for the 1970s.” He tugged on the sleeve of Spike’s black leather jacket. Then his hand slid up and his fingertips stroked Spike’s short, platinum blonde hair.
“For the ‘70s and for you, luv.”
He wasn’t wrong there.
“Hhhhh!” Spike pressed his fist against his nose, which was twitching with an approaching sneeze. Sometimes, with some pressure or rubbing at his nose, he managed to get them to go away. Most times, however, he couldn’t stop them. Like this time, for example. “HihhShoo!”
“Bless you,” Xander said reflexively. “Let’s go inside before you get chilled.”
“Too late.” He scooted over toward Xander who immediately wrapped an arm around him, pulling him close. The leather jacket was more of a fashion statement than anything else, but he was still glad that Spike had the extra layer.
Of course, now that he had Spike snuggled against his side, he didn’t want to move. He had his man and had the moon and, for a few minutes of his life, everything was just that simple.
“h’Shuhh!” Spike sneezed, his hand cupped over the lower half of his face as he snapped forward.
Not that simple after all. “Inside. Into something warmer. Into bed.”
“Mmm. Bed sounds wonderful.” Xander stood and pulled Spike up with him as well. As they moved toward the stairs, Spike looked over his shoulder and up at the moon. “Don’t like the moon anyway.”
Xander froze. “What? Who doesn’t like the moon?”
“Someone who spent a century staring at it and wishing to see the sun.”
That made sense. Xander pecked his cheek. “Well then, let’s come up here during the day sometime. Coffee and scones and a flannel blanket and a beautiful sunrise.”
“Sounds good to… hnn! Hhh… h’urchoo! Hihchoo!”
Xander patted Spike’s chest then guided him to head down the stairs first. “But let’s wait until you’re feeling better.”
Sniffling, Spike nodded and headed toward their room.
no subject
Date: 2020-10-05 11:56 pm (UTC)And I mean, they could totally be in Scotland. Where the nights are chilly, but scones and a flannel blanket are always readily available. :D
no subject
Date: 2020-10-06 12:10 am (UTC)Thank you for reading! Glad you enjoyed the sweetness and promise of eventual scones. (I might have had Snowbaz in my mind at that moment. I can't think of scones without thinking of Simon Snow now LOL)