For Shadowscast
a Buffy the Vampire Slayer story
by Symphonyflute
Buffy Summers was sad. Well, not sad exactly, more like contemplative. Actually, she was both sad and contemplative. She was sitting on her front steps contemplating the options she had after it happened. It of course being her undead boyfriend having sex with her best guy friend's ex-fiancé on a table in the magic box. Only thing was, thinking about it made her sad.
It was probably her fault. She could try to blame it on the fact that being undead he had no soul, and therefore no sense of right and wrong, but deep down she knew it was because she had hurt him. The look in his dark eyes when she told him she didn't love him still haunted her. But as much as she wanted it to mean something to her, every time she thought of that look, she remembered how she felt when it happened and felt a surge of anger.
"Want me to dust him for you?"
Buffy looked up at her new company. "Hi Xander."
"Hi Buffy." He sat down next to her. "Want me to dust him for you?"
"What are you talking about?"
"You're sitting on the stairs outside in the middle of the night instead of patrolling, so something must be bothering you," her dark-haired companion explained, "and considering the recent events we've all borne witness to, I assume it's Spike. So I repeat for the third time: Want me to dust him for you?"
Buffy shook her head. "No. At least not right now. I just want to figure what to do about everything, you know?"
He nodded grimly. "I do know."
"I'm sorry about Anya," Buffy told him. "I guess she really does like vengeance."
"We sure know how to pick `um, don't we?" he asked. Buffy nodded.
"I have an idea," he announced, standing up suddenly and jogging back to his car, because no one walked around Sunnydale after dark.
"What is it?" Buffy called after him. He just waved his hand at her and continued with out answering. Buffy shrugged and went back to her thoughts.
Xander opened the door to the Magic Box and cringed at the ding it made to signify his presence. He'd forgotten it did that. So much for a covert entrance.
"What are you doing here?" Anya spat from behind the counter where she sat reading `Finance Weekly'. "You aren't welcome here, get out."
Xander cringed at her searing tone. "I'm here to get some magic supplies. It's a free country, I can practice black magic anywhere I like. You don't have the right to refuse me that."
"Fine," she agreed curtly, "just hurry up."
Xander definitely had no intention of spending any more time there than absolutely necessary, not after it happened. So he quickly found the ingredients he needed and the spell book he wanted, paid, and hurried out.
Back at his basement apartment, he got to work. A little werewolf blood here, a little pollen of the Japanese geranium there, the right incantation: that monster would learn to hurt his friend and corrupt his girlfriend.
It was cold out. Really really cold. Xander had been standing out in the really really cold for almost an hour, waiting by Spike's crypt in the cemetery. He really should have been back by now, Xander kept thinking. He had a chip in his head, so he wasn't out hunting. He ruined any semblance of a relationship he had ever had with Buffy, so he wasn't with her. It was truly mind boggling.
"Harris, what are you doing at my crypt?"
Xander tried to stop shivering and look tough when he heard Spike's voice. "We need to talk," he stated in what he hoped was a strong enough voice Spike wouldn't think to argue. Turned out it was, as Spike shrugged and didn't slam the door behind him. Not exactly a friendly invitation, but it would do.
"Where were you?" he demanded as he followed the vampire into the dark and not much warmer crypt.
Spike held up a jar of pig's blood. "Butcher."
"Are you sure it isn't human blood?" Xander asked."Do I look like I'm in pain?" Spike drawled, looking bored. He rolled his eyes at Xander's skeptic expression. "Here," he said, tossing him the jar.
Xander caught it with the tips of his fingers and dropped it again. It hit the ground but didn't break, so he picked it up and unscrewed the lid and pretended to study the thick red liquid inside while surreptiously pouring into it some powder from the vile he had tucked in his sleeve. When he was done, he handed the jar back to Spike. "Looks like pig blood to me," he admitted.
Spike took a long gulp. "Well I told you that, didn't I?"
Xander nodded. "That you did. Well I gotta go. Bye." He made a mad break for the exit, leaving a very confused Spike behind him.
The next morning as Buffy was pouring milk into her bowl or cheerios, she heard frantic knocking on the front door. Curious, she shoveled a spoonful of cereal into her mouth and approached the door. Glancing out the peephole, she saw it was Spike, wrapped in an army blanket to keep the sun off, but still smoking a little.
She swallowed the mass of food in her mouth as she pulled open the door. "What the hell do you want?" she asked.
"Invite me in," he gasped. When she didn't do anything, he repeated "Invite me in."
Buffy sighed. "Fine," she muttered, "come in."
He didn't need to be told twice. He pushed past her to get out of the sun, closing the door behind him. Buffy put her hands on her hips and glared at her former vampire boyfriend. "Well?" she demanded.
"There's something wrong with me," he told her, sounding scared.
"That's old news Spike," Buffy told him, "why are you bothering me with it now?"
"No," he argued, "there's really something wrong with me. I've been hot and cold all day, and sneezing all the time. Do you have any idea how weird it is to sneeze after over a century of not having to breathe?"
"Are you trying to tell me you're sick?" Buffy giggled.
"Yes," he admitted snappishly, "and you find it funny?"
"Yes," she agreed, "I find it very funny."
Spike growled at her. "You have a lot of nerve slayer," he spat, "I come to you in my moment of need and you just....HETCHOO! ETCHAOO!" His face went demon as he sneezed, and he shook it back to normal before continuing, not smirking inwardly like he usually did as Buffy cringed. "And you just laugh at me. What's I ever do to you?"
Buffy raised her eyebrows, all sense of mirth gone now and replaced by sheer anger. "What did you do?" she repeated, "What did you DO?!" Spike took an involuntary step back. "You had sex with Anya on a table at the magic box, does that ring a bell?"
Spike raised his hand, turned to the side and sneezed roughly once more, muffled in the sleeve of his duster "Exxcht!" He turned back to her once his demon face was gone again, and continued the argument. "You dumped me Buffy," he reminded her, "I can very well shag anyone I want. And if I recall, that bloody git you call a friend had left her at the alter, so she didn't have any thing to hold her down either. Nothing wrong with two people taking a little comfort in each other."
"You're not a person," Buffy said quietly, "you're a demon."
"Well I feel like a human," he groaned, coughing into a fist and shivering. Then a though occurred to him. "How do you know we did it anyway? Did Anya kiss and tell?"
Buffy shook her head. "Remember the camera the geek trio planted at my house? There was one at the Magic Box too."
Spike paled, which was a feat considering how bloodless he was naturally. "So you saw?"
Buffy nodded. "I saw, Xander saw, Willow and Tara, Dawn"
"Li'l Bit?" Spike gasped. Buffy nodded again. He groaned, "she didn't need to see that."
"Neither did I," Buffy added.
Spike groaned again, and snapped forward with another sneeze. "Atchuu!"
This time he didn't seem to realize his demon face was on, or he was too tired to care, but Buffy didn't enjoy looking at it. "Spike you're a demon," she informed him.
"We've been over this," he rasped, coughing again.
"No," Buffy clarified, "I mean you face."
Spike morphed back to his human face, rubbing his temples tiredly. Buffy was really beginning to feel sorry for him . He really did seem like a human. A sick human.
"Come on," she ordered, pulling on his arm. He didn't put up a fight.
"Where are we going?" he inquired," cause remember-vampire?"
"We're not going outside," Buffy assured him, "I'm taking you to lie on the couch."
"Why?"
Buffy was about to answer him, but he answered himself by sneezing harshly three more times. "He'Atchoo! Hetchoo! ETCHUU!"
Buffy didn't look at him, knowing what he probably looked like, just mumbled "bless you," and pushed him down on the couch and chucked his blanket and some pillows from the chair at his head.
The doorbell rang then, and Buffy went to answer it, leaving Spike to detangle himself from his blanket.
It was Xander. "Hi Xander," Buffy greeted, "What are you doing here?"
He shrugged. "Just came to check up on things. What's up?"
"Spike's sick," she told him. He didn't look surprised, which made her suspicious. "You don't look surprised," she accused him, "what did you do?"
"What makes you think I did something?" he defended, "people get sick."
"Vampires don't."
She had a point there. "They do when you give them a magical cold virus," he informed her.
Buffy slapped his arm. Hard. "Owwww," he groaned, "what the hell was that for?"
"That was for making Spike sick," she snapped, as they heard Spike sneeze again from the living room, though he appeared to be asleep.
"It's just a cold Buff," Xander assured her, "not some deadly parasite or a blood allergy."
"Why'd you do it?" she asked, arms crossed.
"Well I did it for some amusement for you," he admitted, "but it seems like something else was achieved here today."
"What?" she snapped, "we learned about your sick sense of humor?
"No," he said. "Tell me this: why are you so mad I made him sick?" Buffy opened her mouth to answer, then closed it again. She didn't have an answer. "It's because you care about him," Xander told her. "You got the answer you needed. As much as I hate to think it, you and Spike really do love each other." He grimaced. "Just try to love each other where there are no cameras, ok?"
I don't own Buffy the Vampire Slayer. A little amusement goes a long way...