Chapter two: In which Spike Sees an Old Friend
see chapter one for groveling disclaimers
Xander moaned, clutching his head, as soon as he knew he was out of the girls’ sight. Ever since he’d gotten into a fairly heated tussle with some big ugly demons—yeah, Xan, that describes seventy percent of the demon population—he’d been feeling a lot better than usual. Which was odd, considering that when those demons had left him knocked out in that hellmouthy alley, he’d actually thought for a minute they’d killed him. But he’d woken up, gone home, slept and woken up the next morning not even sore. Since then, he hadn’t had aching muscles after patrolling or working like usually, his stamina had improved, and the demons…well, the demons seemed to like him better than ever.
“Impressive, pet,” came a familiar snarky accent, and Xander moaned again. He just wanted to go home and sleep, not deal with the chipped wonder. “Didn’t know you had it in ya, tellin' Slutty off like that.”
“Fuck off, Spike,” Xander snapped back. “I’m sooo not in the mood for you right now.”
Spike actually softened, then caught himself doing it and pasted indifference on his face falling in beside the human. “Just out for a walk and over-heard the drama. Could’ve told ‘em the book was wrong, but they didn’t ask me, did they? Fact is, them demons only die from beheading or mercury poisoning. ‘Course back when them books was written, the bloody idiots thought mercury was just magic silver.”
Xander snorted. “Figures. I don’t care. I’ve had it with Buffy thinking she’s better than everyone else just because she’s the muscle for the group. Great, she’s a weapon, woopie. Without us, you’d have killed her before her seventeenth birthday.”
Spike couldn’t help but smile. It was true after all. The slayer’s friends were the only reason she had lived past the typical expiration date. Too bad the arrogant girl frequently forgot that. “Ta, mate, glad you recognize she’s no match for the pre-chipped Big Bad.”
Xander actually laughed but didn’t respond. Spike and he had formed a strange friendship, not that the others had noticed. They still snipped at each other but now their cuts and jabs lacked any real venom. Still, Xander was glad of the chip. Spike would still kill the others if it was gone, and then he’d probably turn Xander, just cause he liked Xander enough to want to free him from that pesky soul.
Spike kept an eye on Xander as they headed toward the Harris home. The human’s scent had changed recently. Well, not changed exactly, just the thing that had always been a little off about the boy’s scent had intensified enough that Spike could figure out what it was. He’d been calling around his old circles for help with the whelp but hadn’t been able to find the acquaintance that might have been able to teach the boy what he needed to know.
Suddenly Xander winced, his headache coming back full force and noticed Spike whirling around as though looking for danger. He started to tell the vampire that it was just a headache when a voice came from out of the alley not far away.
“Spike, William the Bloody, Blood-childe of Drusilla, Claim-childe of Angelus.” The man attached to the voice stepped into the light. “I hear you’ve been looking for me.”
Xander mentally sighed, wondering what fresh hell this was as he noticed the large broad sword in the man’s hand. At least his headache seemed to have faded. He shifted to a battle stance only to have Spike step between him and the man.
“I wasn’t looking to cause trouble, and Xander’s not part of your Game, Delvin. I need your help,” Spike said, scarcely believing the man he’d just been thinking of had appeared so conveniently, then shrugging it off. Things like that happened all the time on the hellmouth. Seemed like all you had to do was have a casual thought around here for something related to happen.
Xander frowned at Spike’s back. What Game? Why did Spike need this guy’s help? And if this guy was a friend, why did he greet him with a weapon? And why would Spike have to protect him from the man, Delvin? And when exactly had Xander learned not immediately voice such questions?
“Why, oh why, should I help you?” Delvin replied faux-blithely. “Last I saw you, you were ranting something about draining me dry to make a true immortal. You aren’t even the same species any longer as the man I befriended.”
Spike didn’t wince at the reminder, but it was hard. “Delvin, I was a bloody fledgling, I’ve learn a bit of restraint since then. Got human pals and everything.” Spike valiantly ignored the choking behind him. “But you’re the only one of your kind I could think of that would help a newbie, not just kill ‘em and be done with it.”
“What the hell are you two talking about?” Xander exploded, the conversation only confusing him further. “How could he have known you when you were a fledge? That would make him…”
“Very attractive for my age?” Delvin put in smoothly, chuckling at the young man’s outrage. Whether or not Spike was telling the truth about anything else, the boy clearly did need a teacher. He had no clue what was going on. “Very well, William, I’ll help. But if I see more than one or two clues that this is some trick on your part.” Here he glared at the demon that had stolen his friends form. “I will dust you, and sleep well for having avenged my friend.” His eyebrows shot up when the vampire meekly nodded, more like his old friend than the demon.
Xander grumbled something about stupid vampires and their stupid human-looking demon friends.
Spike sighed in relief, not even demanding that the Immortal call him Spike instead of William. He stepped from between Xander and Delvin, figuring introductions would calm Xander down.
“Delvin, this is Alexander Harris, called Xander. Xander, this is Prince D’Raven of Romania, called Delvin these days, he’s an Immortal, and he’s gonna be teaching you how to really get on in the world.”
AN: Well, enter the Immortal teacher in the slightly longer chapter. What do you think? Am I at all worthy to be here?