lusciousxander: (grabby hands by Moscow_Watcher)
[personal profile] lusciousxander
Fic: Teenage Dirtbag
Author: [ profile] lusciousxander
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG 13
Setting: Starts during Lover’s Walk, S3. Spike's POV throughout.
Summary: Halfrek gives Spike the curse that will change his entire life.
Note: This fic is written for the Reviving Spander Ficathon.

Super thanks to [ profile] devo79 for being my awesome beta.

Previous Chapters

Part 15:

Made by Tickyboxes

“I can’t believe you never tried Hubba Bubba Bubble Jugs.” Willow holds up the small container and pours all pink dust into her mouth. She starts chewing on it in heavenly bliss. My disgust wanes with a laugh when she starts coughing.

“Now you do.” I grab a bubblegum container that looks like a pager and break the seal open. “Sorry. Nothing beats regular.” I hold up a perfectly normal gum stick with a wrapper that has ‘SORRY, LINE’S BUSY’ written on it.

Willow, already managed to turn that galling dust into gum and is now blowing tiny bubbles, seizes the container in my hand and runs her thumb on the sixteen other sticks inside. “I like to pretend I got a beeper when I hold one of these bad boys in school.”

Only one in our sad little group who has a pager is Buffy. Rupert believes these vile things lead to drugs, so neither of us has one. I’d rather have a mobile phone instead. Like the one Cordelia flounces about with in school.

Willow spits her gum in a tissue and tosses it in the garbage can next to my bed. She turns her gaze to the rest of the junk she snuck into my room when Rupert wasn’t looking and exhibits her trademark guilty frown. “We need to study a bit of math. I don’t like lying to Giles.”

Only reason Rupert allowed Willow in was for her exceptional tutoring skills. Math isn’t exactly my strong suit.

“Oooh, the William Sonnet Stravaganza!” Her face lights up when she finds the forbidden notebook tucked between the textbooks. Never hide anything in books when dealing with Willow. “Have you written something new?”

“Not really, no.” I steal the book of bloody rhymes and lock it in my drawer out of her reach. Though from her reaction, William clearly let her read his odes to Xander.

I watch her dip a Dorito in the sour cream, engrossed in the way her chin moves as she chews on it. “What?” she asks with her mouth full.

“Do you still think about Jesse?” The lad was only mentioned in that first poem, but was never referenced to again. I haven’t worked out his significance in their lives yet, even Rupert didn’t remember who he was when I casually brought him up at breakfast.

Willow’s face is splashed with deep crimson shame. “Not as of late,” she admits rather difficulty.


“I don’t know.” She averts her gaze toward our neglected textbooks on the floor, safely removed from the dangers of dipping sauce and chips crumbs. “He… we don’t really bring him up. It also sucks ‘cause he doesn’t have a tombstone to visit or anything. Even his parents left town after he ‘ran away.’”

‘We don’t bring him up.’ By ‘we’ does she mean herself and Xander? It doesn’t sound like William knew their deceased friend well. Rupert let it slip that we have arrived to Sunnydale a few weeks before Buffy, so he was either killed before her arrival or shortly after.

Turned. He was turned. Consistent with William’s sappy poem, Jesse wore the face of the devil and it burst to dust, then he mentions Xander’s guilt. Could Xander have staked his friend? That ought to leave some permanent scars. I should know. I’ve staked my own mother.

“You know; it was really sweet that you got into trouble because you wanted to help Xander.” Willow wiggles her eyebrows suggestively. “Romantic even.”

That lie I told Rupert! Since when did he turn into a chinwagger? “Rupert told you about the vengeance demon?”

She nods with a wide grin. “Gave us the full scoop.”

She wouldn’t be grinning like that if she knew the truth. They knew about the pendant. They knew I gave it to Xander. They didn’t know I was withholding it in my room for a long time while Xander suffered for weeks.

But Xander did.

“Was Xander there?”

“He looked really pensive.” She shrugs and fetches a Dorito for another dip.

No surprise there. He’d know it was a lie. He was probably wondering why I was summoning a vengeance demon in the first place. Unless he thought I wanted to curse him again.

Willow hands me a Dorito covered in sour cream with an understanding smile. I pop it in and enjoy the cheesy flavor in my mouth.

“Speaking of scoops, any more on our slayer gone rogue?” I wipe a bit of cream from my lips. “Anything Rupes is holding out on me?”

“Bad case of loony-tunes is still the main headline.” She sweeps the Dorito crumbs off the desk and into the tissue she’s holding with her other hand. “Buffy thinks she can be redeemed, but if you ask me, that type only belongs behind bars.”

I raise an eyebrow in her direction. “You really don’t like her.”

“After everything she did?” She takes the tissue filled with crumbs and walks over to the garbage can. Her body stiffens after she drops the garbage in the can and jerks her fear stricken face in my direction. “Giles is coming!” she hisses, rushing back to relieve the desk from all the junk food.

I grab the math books from the floor and drop them on the desk. I glare draggers at her when she stuffs the Doritos and dips in my drawer. She gives a helpless shrug.

The door clicks open.

We crack open the books, each a different page, and Willow blurts out, “Okay, which trig function is negative in the second quadrant?”

My gaze skims through the diagrams drawn in my page. “Um, an ellipse?”

“Would you two care for some pie?” Rupert stands by the door, a hand on the knob and his head rests against the frame.

“No, thanks, Giles.” She tries to hold in a burp. Too much dip for that one.

He smiles knowingly, his gaze on the crunched Dorito on the floor. “Go on with your studies then.”

After he closes the door, Willow furrows her eyebrows at me. “An ellipse? You’re even worse than Xander.”

I snap the book shut and lean back against my chair. “And how is Mr. King of the World? Still can’t believe Faith buggered him. I mean, really.”

She smiles empathetically. “Is that jealousy I’m hearing?”

I scoff. “Of Xander?”

“Of Faith. It’s me, remember? You don’t have to hide anything.” Her confused stare twitches to a sad one as she empties my drawer. “I did the cry my eyes out in the girls’ bathroom. What was your sad reaction to the news?”

My nostrils flare when I notice some of the dip has stained my notebook of poems. William’s. William’s notebook of poems. We are not the same person. And I bloody don’t have a pesky crush on Xander Harris.

“Nothing.” I take the notebook and sniff its stained edge, shuddering at the foul stench.

“Really?” Willow does her wide eyed face, having already finished stacking every piece of junk food neatly on the desk.

I shrug. Since Rupert busted my bum and cancelled my purchase of magic ingredients and chucked out the items in my room – without returning my money, the wanker – I’ve lost the will to pretend. Mostly smaller things. Probably everything soon enough.

“I just feel so… disappointed,” Willow says softly, watching me as I clean the stain on the notebook with a tissue. “I mean, his first time. It should be uber special and with someone special, not that skanky kook.” Her eyes droop down and she heaves a sigh. “Xander will look back on his first time and all he’ll remember was Faith trying to kill him.”

I blink up and refocus on her face. “Wait, what?”

“You know, when she tried to strangle him.”

No, I don’t know. When did that happen? “Again, what?”

She frowns. “Giles didn’t tell you?”

“Clearly not.”

She bends to get the tissue that fell out of my hand. “Xander went to Faith’s motel room to talk to her about what happened…”

“After what Buffy said?” I exclaim, recalling how Buffy laid it out for the boy in the cafeteria. Pointing out, quite harshly, that he was nothing but a big joke to Faith.

“Yeah, but you know Xander…”

Git never listens to reason, always ignores decisions made by the group and acts on his own.

“If it weren’t for Angel, Xander would have been dead,” Willow whispers. “I just can’t process the awfulness of the whole thing.”

Xander thought he had something special with Faith. What did he say? Connection. Finding out that it was nothing in the worst way possible, that’s just…

Heart freezes. “Where is Xander now?”

“He went back home.”

A sick thud of fear slams against me. I chuck the notebook aside and jump to my feet, racing in the room with my eyes on the sodding iron bars covering the window. “I need to see him.”

“But you’re grounded,” Willow reminds me with a swift glance at the door. Rupert is an obstacle, but there’s a way around him. Just need Willow to cooperate.


My hands grip her shoulders, her skeptical gaze locked with mine.

And that’s when I tell her everything.


The Harris household is uncharacteristically silent. The faint sound of Conan O’Brian taking a piss out of some bloke drifts from inside and blocks the chirps of the crickets. Frantic knocks on the door that don’t stop, if his legless folks don’t hear this, I’ll slip in from Xander’s window.

The doorknob is turned. Bloodshot eyes of a weary woman regard me in confusion.

“Hello Mrs. Harris, is Xander home?” I force in a polite William act, desperately hiding the anxiety inside.

The audience’s laughter in the TV floats out as she takes her time staring at him, then recognition lights in her eyes. “William? You haven’t dropped by for months.”

Been here on Christmas eve, but the woman was drunk out of her arse to notice. My serious case of collywobbles intensifies. “Is Xander home?”

She blinks, as if trying to comprehend the question, a gutted frown touches her brow. “Oh, Xander, he… he always sneaks in unannounced.”

I head past her when I realize she’s no use, scanning the chaotic living room for a certain dark haired wazzaock.

“Don’t mind the mess.” The woman fledges next to me with an embarrassed laugh. “I was in the process of cleaning up when you came.”

“So, Xander is in his room?” I already take a step in the direction of the boy’s bedroom when his mother stammers, “Unless he’s in the bathroom. Or with Willow. He’s always hanging out with those girls.”

I turn around, seeing past her tosh. “In other words, you don’t know.”

“He never tells me anything,” she says defensively, wiping her hands together the same way her son does when he’s tense. “Always got more important things to do.” She catches her tone and forces a fake tender smile on her lips. “But it’s just a phase. He’s still my little boy.”

I clamp my jaw closed so I won’t say anything else and turn around to Xander’s room. Dark and empty with nothing but the moon shedding light on the swarming rubbish the boy never bothered to tidy since Christmas.

I hear a hint of a movement coming from another room. I try to open the door. It’s locked.

“Mom?” Xander’s voice, hollow and distant.

“Xander, open the door.” My demand followed by two aggressive knocks.

“What are you doing here?” his voice isn’t its usual irritation, too loaded with exhaustion.

“I said open the bloody door, Xander!” I hit the door with my shoulder, switching to kicking it, then banging on it with my fist. “Open the door!”

Movements, something slides, something is flung away, heavy movements opposing to my intense banging on the wooden barrier standing between us.

The door swings open revealing an irritated Xander, finger-shaped bruises surrounding his throat. I push past him into the decrepit bathroom, gaze examining the Formica that’s peeled from the vanities and the water dripping from the base of the faucet.

“What? What?” Xander throws out his arms in frustration, eyes screaming wrath at the invasion of his privacy.

I grab one of those flailing arms and push his sleeve up, and voila, there they are! A fresh cut surrounded by faded older ones.

“What the hell? Let go, son of a bitch!” He rips his arm out of my grasp, eyes wide with alarm and fury. His outraged rampage booms louder and louder with each defensive step back he takes, “You barge into someone else’s home and get in their business! Maybe that’s what you do in England, but here we don’t…”

His riot is cut short when his mouth slams against my shoulder, his body stiffening as my arms close around him. He doesn’t say a word, stands there in shock, then his muscles relax with a quivering breath. I feel his head drops, breath coming out in shudders, and wetness starts to form on the base of my neck.

Over his shoulder, I witness the edge of a bloodied knife poking out from behind the sink.


The dripping of water slows down into a drop each minute on the chipped surface in the sink. Perched on the tile floor and leaning against the tub, my legs growing numb as my hands patch the cut in Xander’s wrist. His eyes ablaze, dotted red and staring ahead, and his hand held out submissively for my attention.

“Gonna talk anytime soon?” I start examining my decent work. Never had to patch someone up in years. As a vampire, I used to lick Dru’s bruises clean and feel her skin healing under my tongue. Not that vampires had curative saliva, we just heal faster than humans, especially with heaps of their blood in our system.

“Like you give a crap,” tone as hollow as the look in his eyes that stared at the faded toothpaste spattered on the mirror.

“I do.”

He turns to look at me, some life in those dead eyes, clearly sensing the sincerity in my voice.

“I don’t get you.”

“I don’t get myself either.” Still sincere with a dash of confusion. I care, quite intensely I admit. William’s humanity taking over, I suppose.

“So fess up.”

He doesn’t. Just stares at me, trying to figure me out. Perhaps seeing little glimpses of his old best friend appearing on the surface.

“When did you start?” I give him a helping nudge and stretch my legs for the blood to flow.

He looks down at his wrapped wrist, breath slipping out ragged and short. “Remember that hypnotizing demon? The Bazaar demon.”

“Bazr demon,” I correct. Memory lane takes me back to a miffed Buffy slicing the demon in four to avenge her bruised slayer ego. Being the only poor soul who fell under its thrall had turned her vicious with rage. It was a sight to see. Willow, Rupert and I praised and cheered. I don’t remember Xander in that circle of applause.

“It grabbed my wrist and its scales bruised them,” he goes on, his thumb caressing the bandage on his wrist. “Which was followed by the regular flinging thing and the flying across the cemetery thing, both not so much with the fun.” An empty smile followed by a loaded sigh. I try to remember when he got hurt, but it doesn’t ring a bell. I don’t remember him at all that night. Could it be he walked home by himself? Did we not notice him missing?

He sucks in his lips and look up at the cracked paintjob in the ceiling with glistening eyes. “Things were… they weren’t good.” His voice breaks and he blinks back tears. “You started to detest the air I breathe, and Willow with her no touching rule, which yeah I understand, I screwed up that one big time. And Buffy and I weren’t, you know, ‘cause of the whole Angel thing. But with Buffy, there was that occasional pat on the shoulder, which was gone, too, because of the curse.”

He wipes the forming dampness in his eyes and takes a long shuddering breath. “It was really… it was like this bubble inside that keeps growing and growing but never popping, you know.”

His eyes droop down and his posture deflates, the finger marks on his throat so glaringly red. Intense hate nurtures in me when I remember Xander at the cafeteria, so sure he meant something to that bitch, so sure they shared something special, so sure he can be of help. Willow was right. He’ll look back at his first time and remember her sodding fingers on his throat choking him to death.

“When that demon cut me, it was really painful, but it was… it was better than feeling nothing. But later when I went back home, the feeling numbed down. I took that knife and made it hurt again.”

He looks at me and suddenly the room starts shrinking and a heavy feeling forms inside. “I get why Buffy and Willow… I get it. But I still don’t understand what happened here. You and me, we were inseparable.” His eyes are pleading, seeking an answer I can’t provide.

“It was what hurt the most,” he whispers, eyes red rimmed and mouth set in a cold hard line.

Ball in my court now, a ball I can’t possibly throw. Should I tell him the truth? Would it really matter now? Any chance to get back to who I was is destroyed when Rupert found out. There’s no way back. Might as well accept it; I’m stuck here. And Xander deserves to know. He deserves to know why his friend cut him loose.

“There you boys are,” Mrs. Harris’ chipper voice startles us both. Her smile is too bright for the dim bathroom. “Why didn’t you tell me William was coming, Xander? I’ve ordered Chinese. How about we watch the late night show and have a nice little meal?”

Xander releases a sigh. “Mom…”

“I’ll have mine in the kitchen,” she quickly proposes. “You two can eat in front of the TV.”

“Mom, it’s not…” He shakes his head and uses his other hand to push himself up. “William is going home.”

“Oh.” She looks at her son with disappointment, then directs her gaze at me. “Your father must have made those English pies then? Xander always talks about them.” The unmasked jealousy drips in every word.

I rise up and smile at her. “Actually, if you don’t mind, I’d like to have dinner here.” Xander whips his head up and stares at me with raised eyebrows.

“I… love Chinese?” I provide awkwardly.

“That’s wonderful.” His mother brightens again, and I’m hit with a wave of rum. “I’ll go set up the table in front of the TV. Don’t worry I won’t be joining you.”

“No, you should…” I say out of false courtesy.

“Xander wants to have dinner with his buddy, don’t you, Xander? I’ll stay out of your way.” She hurries out of the bathroom, knocking something over on her way.

Xander gives me the stink eye. “I don’t need your pity.”

“What are you talking about? I love Chinese.” I brush past him and follow the sound of clanging plates in the kitchen where Xander’s drunken mother attempts to be hospitable.


Xander is sleeping, the comforting thought that accompanies me home. He can’t harm himself when he’s sleeping. Everything will be all right in the morning. But only for now. Something has to be done about him. Can’t leave him under the care of his wasted parents. His mother didn’t even notice the bandages on his wrist.

I unlock the front door to the flat and release a sigh. Rupert is my only way to help the lad. And ‘my only way to help Xander’ is sitting on his chair directed at the door, arms crossed against his chest, and eyes firmly boring a hole in my head.

Willow is sitting on a stool chair uncomfortably and waves at me. The sleeping in someone else’s bed to fool the father trick never works, but at least it managed to get me out of the flat. “Sorry, Will.” She flicks a concerned glance my way. “How’s Xander?

“He’s all right.” She doesn’t buy it. “Really, I was just being paranoid.”

“So Xander isn’t cutting himself?” she asks, searching in my eyes for the truth.

“This stays between us,” Xander has warned me. “I don’t want Willow and Buffy fussing over me. I’m fine.”

I shake my head. “He’s not.”

Willow stares at me long and hard. I try not to flinch.

“I believe you should be heading home, Willow,” Rupert says, smacking his hands on his knees and rising up. “Do be careful though.”

“I always do,” Willow reassures him. One last glance at me before she closes the door behind her.

Rupert takes off his glasses and the lecture is on, “Honestly, William, all that nonsense about Xander and worrying Willow…”

I slip my hand in the giant pocket of my baggy trousers and toss the bloodied knife right at the spot in front of his feet.

Rupert stares down at it, speechless.

“He’s been at it for a month or so,” I explain. “Now I promised him I won’t tell anyone, but I need your help to keep him safe.”

“Xander…” Rupert whispers in complete state of shock.

“I want him to move in temporarily with us until he gets better.” I try to get his attention but his eyes are captivated by the knife. “Rupert? What do you say?”

He blinks as if coming from a fog and puts his glasses on. “What about his parents?”

“Nothing to worry your head about. Just need you on board, what do you say?”

“Of course.” He bends down to take the knife and stares at it. “I can’t believe… how did we not notice?”

“Because he’s good at hiding things.” His heroic stunt during the apocalypse he wasn’t allowed to participate in springs to mind. “But no more.”

Rupert looks at my determined gaze and a proud smile tugs his lips. “You’re a good person, William.”

The heat radiates off my face and my heartbeat picks up speed. I did not anticipate this was going to turn into one of those awkward father-son moments. I give an uneasy shrug and helplessly stare at the door to my room.

Rupert heads to the sink to wash the blood off the knife when my mind indignantly protests, I’m not a good person. I’m bad. I’m… eh, who am I kidding? My big bad days are way behind me, I’m afraid. Bugger.


Part 16
Anonymous( )Anonymous This account has disabled anonymous posting.
OpenID( )OpenID You can comment on this post while signed in with an account from many other sites, once you have confirmed your email address. Sign in using OpenID.
Account name:
If you don't have an account you can create one now.
HTML doesn't work in the subject.


Notice: This account is set to log the IP addresses of everyone who comments.
Links will be displayed as unclickable URLs to help prevent spam.


lusciousxander: (Default)

September 2016


Most Popular Tags

Style Credit

Expand Cut Tags

No cut tags
Page generated Oct. 22nd, 2017 10:00 am
Powered by Dreamwidth Studios