Torchwood Aftershock: Halloween 12
Aug. 4th, 2020 12:07 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
madimpossibledreamerMain Points:
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Torchwood crossover
Summary: Would you look at that, more stuff from 2012. This one is a follow-up to a Choose Your Own Adventure Halloween adventure I may or may not finish eventually where Xander ends up with Captain Xan in his head. This one is definitely not an episode tag (and I've got a note calling it 'bounty').
Word Count: 2546
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Warnings: Underage drinking, Xander actually figuring out he doesn't stay dead
Xan was sitting in Willy’s again. The first couple times he tried to throw him out on the grounds that Xander wasn’t of the right age to be drinking alcohol. Xan had thrown in a threat along with the flirtation, and Willy soon left him alone, knowing that this was a fight he really didn’t want to pick. It wasn’t like he caused much trouble. In fact, besides a bit of posturing among the various demons wanting him to go home with them (which he had never done, despite the agony that Xan was in by this point-apparently the man hadn’t gone without for a long long time and wasn’t altogether picky about his partners), things were actually quieter while he was around.
The only clincher was whether Buffy would ever wander in while he was there, looking for answers. Or whether Willy would mention his new pastime, even if he didn’t happen to be there.
He finished his glass, swirling around the remnants in his glass.
At any given time, there was a fair balance between Xan and Xander. Any time he came here, Xan was close to the surface, begging to be let out to do...well, anything. He was impatient with playing the powerless, the errand boy, letting the others do the work. He wasn’t bloodthirsty like his ex-partner, but he wanted a bit of the action now and then. And he wanted to flirt with everything that moved, which was hard to fight back and honestly he was kind of surprised that no one had noticed yet.
But it was Xander today. Xander with a chip on his shoulder. Xander who was sick of hiding it. Xander who really wanted just to return to his Slayerette status and forget about all of this. Xander who was sick of an alternate Xander yelling at him in his own head, of the urges and other insanity that came with this.
The alcohol made it easier. He didn’t have to think, just be. He could exist without worrying about spells or remnants of a man so like him and yet so not or whether it counted as a possession or...anything. It was a nice change.
There was something about being invincible that made you more prone to vice, he mused. Like Wolverine and smoking. Didn’t matter that the nicotine was doing irreparable damage to Logan’s lungs and throat. He’d just end up healing it anyway.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him-which was unusual, considering the daze he was currently in. He was in danger of ending up his old man. An alcoholic that hated the world, that would hit out at everything and anything within reach.
That was considerably sobering.
He blinked, stood, wavering. He handed Willy the cash-less than it was worth. He’d realized that if he paid the correct amount, he’d be like any other customer, and surprisingly enough Willy would be more likely to tell on him. No respect, no fear, he’d call him out like anyone else. Some fear, some mystery, now there was a Xander he wouldn’t mess with.
“Want some company home?” One of the less ugly demons of the night turned to him, tail flicking hopefully, displaying a pretty if red and slightly scaly thigh.
He smiled, waved his hand. “I’m okay. I can make it home, thank you, m’lady.” He bowed, and it giggled into its drink. Strangely enough, none of them had seen fit to push, at least not too hard. How he’d earned respect in their community was something he’d never understand. Just one of Xan’s questionable talents, he suspected.
He’d perfected control over his body. Strangely enough, drink didn’t seem to have as much of an effect on him as other people. At least, physically. Mentally might be a whole other story. His walk was straight as he headed out.
Of course, he couldn’t fathom why he was heading toward the graveyard. Even for him, with his Captain Xan ace, that was most likely suicide.
It was then that he heard the sounds of a fight, and headed unerringly toward it, pausing behind one of the many crypts and peeking around the corner to get a better idea of what his body was wanting to throw him into.
It took a moment to recognize the figure in the middle as Spike. A simple glimpse of bleached hair and that coat was enough to give him that. Strangely enough, he was being attacked by his own kind-a fair number of them, and strong ones too, for Spike was having trouble making quick work of them. The bleached vampire struck him as the sort of troublemaker who’d have little trouble hunting his own kind if it came to it, and might do so every now and then just for kicks.
“The Lady Drusilla put a bounty on your head. How does that lover’s quarrel feel, William?” one snarled, and received a swift and vicious kick to his leg for his pains.
“Absolutely brilliant, dunderhead,” Spike whispered under his breath.
He wasn’t looking so good. Paler than usual, like he hadn’t been eating. But he hadn’t flinched on the Drusilla thing. Which meant that it had been a while. He was resigned to it.
Just as he had with the Cicely thing.
Xan felt his heart reach for the vampire. Poor Will. Then he realized that Spike was going to lose, and he knew it. The other vampires hadn’t realized yet. They talked a good game, but they had no idea. There were enough of them that they’d win by force of numbers. And Spike was exhausted. It was only a matter of time.
Bullies, preying on the weak. But this was no schoolyard fight. There were two choices here.
He could walk away, report yet another victory for the Buffy Team. No one would much mourn his passing. Xander would feel a little guilty, and would miss him, but he could try to go back to the way it had been before. Try to ignore Xan, with his innuendo and his caring and his cool image and his heroism. He could try to ignore the world Xan had introduced him to, beautiful and wild and wonderful and deadly.
Or he could intervene. He could run into the middle and fight back, save the underdog. Willingly help an erstwhile enemy of Buffy. Accept Xan, with all his quirks and memories, terrifying man that he was. Acknowledge that the two were in fact one, that this was no ordinary coincidence, that he’d gotten that costume, that Xan didn’t leave, that he wanted to wear that coat and gun and waistcoat, that he was in love with Spike, instead of the considerably safer Buffy or Willow or even Cordelia. In fact, step off a cliff and freefall into goodness knows what, leaving his safe, easy existence that he’d been trying so hard to hold on to with both hands far behind.
In the end, it was the way he’d felt that decided him.
He needed to drink, to become his dad, to run away from the Captain. It was essential, a part of him, now. And thoughts of denying that, of the cool guy he could have become, only made him depressed. He felt most happy, most alive, when he was fighting Spike, kissing Spike, dreaming of memories that were never his, that he’d never earned. And to some extent, Spike was like him. No one paid attention to him, took him seriously. Part of that was the persona he’d put on. So deadly, but with that hair they’d thought him too ridiculous. Nobody took him seriously either.
Just like him. Been abandoned by everyone. Hurt by the ones he cared about. If nothing else, no matter what Buffy might say about Spike being on the side of evil, if he was a good guy at all, he had to save the vampire. Sure, he was annoying, and probably would slit their throats if he got the chance, but if he’d just left he wouldn’t be a hero. He’d be the jerk sheriff in the movies, who cared more about his job than the people in it.
Some part of him wanted to yell ‘yeehaw’ as he ran in. He suppressed that. There was only so much he could stand, even if he was accepting this part of himself. Hadn’t he ever heard of moderation?
Of course not, this was Captain Xan.
He took a knuckle to the jaw that didn’t, luckily enough, break it as he sped in front of Spike. He stood up again, everyone staring at him in amazement. He grinned, wiping off the blood from his lips. “Hey, ladies and gentlemen. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“X-Xan.” Spike stammered his name, staring at him as if he was a hero or lunatic or possibly both. He made a decision too. “Get out of here.”
“As if. You’re stuck with me.” Perhaps those weren’t the best words, but hey, he could be forgiven for being a little drunk at the time.
“So you are the one who prompted William to forget his loyalty to Lady Drusilla.” One of the vampires, possibly the strongest, leered at his neck. “It will be my pleasure to suck you dry before we turn William into dust.”
“You’re welcome to try.” It was a rush, being the Captain again.
He met the first quickly, and ducked out of the way, using the enemy’s momentum against her, throwing her into the fence. Which here was wooden.
One down, only seven or eight to go.
It would’ve been smart to grab a stake before rushing in, he realized. But then Spike threw him one, and he caught it easily, whirled it around a bit for dramatic effect.
He imagined a conversation with his alter ego. Sometimes you’re such a performer.
In his mind, Xan turned around the chair, legs crossed, and winked. Yeah. You complaining?
He rolled his eyes, exchanging blows with another vamp before staking him.
The next he practically danced with, pulling close, spinning her whenever she tried to bite his neck. He could smell her pheromones-wow, she’s hot. And confused. He spun her once again, then staked her.
He was pushed, and fell into Spike’s back. Luckily he seemed to have been waiting for it, because he didn’t fall. “Are you bonkers?” he demanded breathlessly. Not that he needed breath.
Xan grinned. “Aww, you’ve always got compliments for me.” They whirled as one, fought as one. They had each other’s backs.
“Xan,” Spike began again, after they’d taken out another two or three, but then Xan was pulled away. The leader, uh-oh. He was stronger than just an ordinary minion.
“Observe, Spike, as I drain the life out of your human toy.” He struggled a bit, but was no match for this one’s strength, just as he suspected Spike was stronger but just didn’t realize it.
And then there were pinpricks at his neck, like twin needles. Then the blood began being pulled out, and he managed a yell through the blinding pain.
Oddly enough, he was also aroused. But that he chalked up to the Captain, crazy as he was. Images of threesomes swirled around his head. Okay, that’s enough.
For once, Xan agreed with him. Yeah, you’re right. Just Will and Spike now. Sort of a foursome if you think about it, but not really. Fivesome counting John.
Thanks for that. he managed, feeling ill.
His eyesight began to grey out, and then there was a tearing where the fangs were at his vein, and a burst of agony, and he went sprawling.
Groggily, he raised his head, pushed himself up on his hands. Just then, his brain finally decided to give him the information that he’d heard a ferocious howl, several seconds after the event.
He reconstructed the event. Spike had tackled the vampire, furious that it had hurt him. He’d drawn energy from the danger to his...whatever he was now. They were now scrabbling in the dust like animals, rolling and wrestling and biting at each other viciously.
He tried to get to his knees, but it hurt. The mother of all headaches had come to roost, and besides his neck was bleeding freely, making him lightheaded, dizzy, and prone to losing consciousness at any moment.
Another vampiress straddled him from behind. “Calm. I will ease your pain, little one.” She leaned in and licked his neck, moaning.
He elbowed her in the face, and with a surprised scream she fell back. He was slow, but she was slower, and in the dance for death only relative speed mattered. He staked her, with no idea of how many were left.
Then they heard another person coming. Instantly the other vampires melted into the dark. Probably Buffy, then.
“Come on, Spike,” he whispered, pulling the two of them into a nearby mausoleum.
The vampire merely moaned, head lolling. Not good. But then again, he’d never thought it really would be.
He secreted him in a corner, out of the way. “I’ll be back, love,” he whispered, reaching out to pull Spike into a long, slow, sensual kiss. The vampire started to wake a little at that, responding, just as needy, but he pulled back.
Time for Xander. Performer, sure. Already his vein was healing, meaning that he’d probably died back there and just hadn’t realized it, but he rubbed away the blood using Spike’s shirt. Buffy didn’t need to see that.
He walked out, rubbing the back of his head dazedly, letting the alcohol get to him at last.
The next thing he knew, he was pinned against the heavy wooden door, a stake at his chest. Three, two, one...
“Xander?” Yep.
He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re not looking so good. Did the wittle wampires toss you around?” she teased, letting him go.
“Um, yeah. Also, I think they were drinking. They went that way. You should go after them and remind them why alcohol and hunting don’t mix,” he answered helpfully, pointing away from the direction he and Spike would be heading.
She shook her head. “Must have slobbered all over you. I’d take a shower. You smell of major yuck.”
He grinned at that. “Will do.”
“And, Xander. I know your manly pride has trouble with this stuff, but seriously, leave slaying to the Slayer, ok?” She actually did look concerned. In a ‘looking out for a friend’ rather than a ‘looking out for a civilian’ way.
“I can’t promise anything. You know manly pride is a tricky thing.” He winked. “I can try, though.”
“Get going!” She bounced off in the other direction, giggling. She hadn’t noticed the pinpricks on his neck.
And the Oblivious Award of the Night goes to...Except, then again, awarding it would completely miss the point.
He walked for a while in the other direction, then doubled back to pick up Spike.
Spike was apparently feeling a lot better now. He had begun to pace and finally grabbed Xander, worried. “Xan. Are you hurt?”
“Feeling a little light-headed, and of course...” He didn’t get to finish, as Spike picked him up bridal-style and took off in a run.
“Spi-” but he couldn’t finish. His eyes were closing by themselves.
Buffy the Vampire Slayer/Torchwood crossover
Summary: Would you look at that, more stuff from 2012. This one is a follow-up to a Choose Your Own Adventure Halloween adventure I may or may not finish eventually where Xander ends up with Captain Xan in his head. This one is definitely not an episode tag (and I've got a note calling it 'bounty').
Word Count: 2546
Rating: Teen
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Warnings: Underage drinking, Xander actually figuring out he doesn't stay dead
Xan was sitting in Willy’s again. The first couple times he tried to throw him out on the grounds that Xander wasn’t of the right age to be drinking alcohol. Xan had thrown in a threat along with the flirtation, and Willy soon left him alone, knowing that this was a fight he really didn’t want to pick. It wasn’t like he caused much trouble. In fact, besides a bit of posturing among the various demons wanting him to go home with them (which he had never done, despite the agony that Xan was in by this point-apparently the man hadn’t gone without for a long long time and wasn’t altogether picky about his partners), things were actually quieter while he was around.
The only clincher was whether Buffy would ever wander in while he was there, looking for answers. Or whether Willy would mention his new pastime, even if he didn’t happen to be there.
He finished his glass, swirling around the remnants in his glass.
At any given time, there was a fair balance between Xan and Xander. Any time he came here, Xan was close to the surface, begging to be let out to do...well, anything. He was impatient with playing the powerless, the errand boy, letting the others do the work. He wasn’t bloodthirsty like his ex-partner, but he wanted a bit of the action now and then. And he wanted to flirt with everything that moved, which was hard to fight back and honestly he was kind of surprised that no one had noticed yet.
But it was Xander today. Xander with a chip on his shoulder. Xander who was sick of hiding it. Xander who really wanted just to return to his Slayerette status and forget about all of this. Xander who was sick of an alternate Xander yelling at him in his own head, of the urges and other insanity that came with this.
The alcohol made it easier. He didn’t have to think, just be. He could exist without worrying about spells or remnants of a man so like him and yet so not or whether it counted as a possession or...anything. It was a nice change.
There was something about being invincible that made you more prone to vice, he mused. Like Wolverine and smoking. Didn’t matter that the nicotine was doing irreparable damage to Logan’s lungs and throat. He’d just end up healing it anyway.
Suddenly a thought occurred to him-which was unusual, considering the daze he was currently in. He was in danger of ending up his old man. An alcoholic that hated the world, that would hit out at everything and anything within reach.
That was considerably sobering.
He blinked, stood, wavering. He handed Willy the cash-less than it was worth. He’d realized that if he paid the correct amount, he’d be like any other customer, and surprisingly enough Willy would be more likely to tell on him. No respect, no fear, he’d call him out like anyone else. Some fear, some mystery, now there was a Xander he wouldn’t mess with.
“Want some company home?” One of the less ugly demons of the night turned to him, tail flicking hopefully, displaying a pretty if red and slightly scaly thigh.
He smiled, waved his hand. “I’m okay. I can make it home, thank you, m’lady.” He bowed, and it giggled into its drink. Strangely enough, none of them had seen fit to push, at least not too hard. How he’d earned respect in their community was something he’d never understand. Just one of Xan’s questionable talents, he suspected.
He’d perfected control over his body. Strangely enough, drink didn’t seem to have as much of an effect on him as other people. At least, physically. Mentally might be a whole other story. His walk was straight as he headed out.
Of course, he couldn’t fathom why he was heading toward the graveyard. Even for him, with his Captain Xan ace, that was most likely suicide.
It was then that he heard the sounds of a fight, and headed unerringly toward it, pausing behind one of the many crypts and peeking around the corner to get a better idea of what his body was wanting to throw him into.
It took a moment to recognize the figure in the middle as Spike. A simple glimpse of bleached hair and that coat was enough to give him that. Strangely enough, he was being attacked by his own kind-a fair number of them, and strong ones too, for Spike was having trouble making quick work of them. The bleached vampire struck him as the sort of troublemaker who’d have little trouble hunting his own kind if it came to it, and might do so every now and then just for kicks.
“The Lady Drusilla put a bounty on your head. How does that lover’s quarrel feel, William?” one snarled, and received a swift and vicious kick to his leg for his pains.
“Absolutely brilliant, dunderhead,” Spike whispered under his breath.
He wasn’t looking so good. Paler than usual, like he hadn’t been eating. But he hadn’t flinched on the Drusilla thing. Which meant that it had been a while. He was resigned to it.
Just as he had with the Cicely thing.
Xan felt his heart reach for the vampire. Poor Will. Then he realized that Spike was going to lose, and he knew it. The other vampires hadn’t realized yet. They talked a good game, but they had no idea. There were enough of them that they’d win by force of numbers. And Spike was exhausted. It was only a matter of time.
Bullies, preying on the weak. But this was no schoolyard fight. There were two choices here.
He could walk away, report yet another victory for the Buffy Team. No one would much mourn his passing. Xander would feel a little guilty, and would miss him, but he could try to go back to the way it had been before. Try to ignore Xan, with his innuendo and his caring and his cool image and his heroism. He could try to ignore the world Xan had introduced him to, beautiful and wild and wonderful and deadly.
Or he could intervene. He could run into the middle and fight back, save the underdog. Willingly help an erstwhile enemy of Buffy. Accept Xan, with all his quirks and memories, terrifying man that he was. Acknowledge that the two were in fact one, that this was no ordinary coincidence, that he’d gotten that costume, that Xan didn’t leave, that he wanted to wear that coat and gun and waistcoat, that he was in love with Spike, instead of the considerably safer Buffy or Willow or even Cordelia. In fact, step off a cliff and freefall into goodness knows what, leaving his safe, easy existence that he’d been trying so hard to hold on to with both hands far behind.
In the end, it was the way he’d felt that decided him.
He needed to drink, to become his dad, to run away from the Captain. It was essential, a part of him, now. And thoughts of denying that, of the cool guy he could have become, only made him depressed. He felt most happy, most alive, when he was fighting Spike, kissing Spike, dreaming of memories that were never his, that he’d never earned. And to some extent, Spike was like him. No one paid attention to him, took him seriously. Part of that was the persona he’d put on. So deadly, but with that hair they’d thought him too ridiculous. Nobody took him seriously either.
Just like him. Been abandoned by everyone. Hurt by the ones he cared about. If nothing else, no matter what Buffy might say about Spike being on the side of evil, if he was a good guy at all, he had to save the vampire. Sure, he was annoying, and probably would slit their throats if he got the chance, but if he’d just left he wouldn’t be a hero. He’d be the jerk sheriff in the movies, who cared more about his job than the people in it.
Some part of him wanted to yell ‘yeehaw’ as he ran in. He suppressed that. There was only so much he could stand, even if he was accepting this part of himself. Hadn’t he ever heard of moderation?
Of course not, this was Captain Xan.
He took a knuckle to the jaw that didn’t, luckily enough, break it as he sped in front of Spike. He stood up again, everyone staring at him in amazement. He grinned, wiping off the blood from his lips. “Hey, ladies and gentlemen. I hope I’m not interrupting anything.”
“X-Xan.” Spike stammered his name, staring at him as if he was a hero or lunatic or possibly both. He made a decision too. “Get out of here.”
“As if. You’re stuck with me.” Perhaps those weren’t the best words, but hey, he could be forgiven for being a little drunk at the time.
“So you are the one who prompted William to forget his loyalty to Lady Drusilla.” One of the vampires, possibly the strongest, leered at his neck. “It will be my pleasure to suck you dry before we turn William into dust.”
“You’re welcome to try.” It was a rush, being the Captain again.
He met the first quickly, and ducked out of the way, using the enemy’s momentum against her, throwing her into the fence. Which here was wooden.
One down, only seven or eight to go.
It would’ve been smart to grab a stake before rushing in, he realized. But then Spike threw him one, and he caught it easily, whirled it around a bit for dramatic effect.
He imagined a conversation with his alter ego. Sometimes you’re such a performer.
In his mind, Xan turned around the chair, legs crossed, and winked. Yeah. You complaining?
He rolled his eyes, exchanging blows with another vamp before staking him.
The next he practically danced with, pulling close, spinning her whenever she tried to bite his neck. He could smell her pheromones-wow, she’s hot. And confused. He spun her once again, then staked her.
He was pushed, and fell into Spike’s back. Luckily he seemed to have been waiting for it, because he didn’t fall. “Are you bonkers?” he demanded breathlessly. Not that he needed breath.
Xan grinned. “Aww, you’ve always got compliments for me.” They whirled as one, fought as one. They had each other’s backs.
“Xan,” Spike began again, after they’d taken out another two or three, but then Xan was pulled away. The leader, uh-oh. He was stronger than just an ordinary minion.
“Observe, Spike, as I drain the life out of your human toy.” He struggled a bit, but was no match for this one’s strength, just as he suspected Spike was stronger but just didn’t realize it.
And then there were pinpricks at his neck, like twin needles. Then the blood began being pulled out, and he managed a yell through the blinding pain.
Oddly enough, he was also aroused. But that he chalked up to the Captain, crazy as he was. Images of threesomes swirled around his head. Okay, that’s enough.
For once, Xan agreed with him. Yeah, you’re right. Just Will and Spike now. Sort of a foursome if you think about it, but not really. Fivesome counting John.
Thanks for that. he managed, feeling ill.
His eyesight began to grey out, and then there was a tearing where the fangs were at his vein, and a burst of agony, and he went sprawling.
Groggily, he raised his head, pushed himself up on his hands. Just then, his brain finally decided to give him the information that he’d heard a ferocious howl, several seconds after the event.
He reconstructed the event. Spike had tackled the vampire, furious that it had hurt him. He’d drawn energy from the danger to his...whatever he was now. They were now scrabbling in the dust like animals, rolling and wrestling and biting at each other viciously.
He tried to get to his knees, but it hurt. The mother of all headaches had come to roost, and besides his neck was bleeding freely, making him lightheaded, dizzy, and prone to losing consciousness at any moment.
Another vampiress straddled him from behind. “Calm. I will ease your pain, little one.” She leaned in and licked his neck, moaning.
He elbowed her in the face, and with a surprised scream she fell back. He was slow, but she was slower, and in the dance for death only relative speed mattered. He staked her, with no idea of how many were left.
Then they heard another person coming. Instantly the other vampires melted into the dark. Probably Buffy, then.
“Come on, Spike,” he whispered, pulling the two of them into a nearby mausoleum.
The vampire merely moaned, head lolling. Not good. But then again, he’d never thought it really would be.
He secreted him in a corner, out of the way. “I’ll be back, love,” he whispered, reaching out to pull Spike into a long, slow, sensual kiss. The vampire started to wake a little at that, responding, just as needy, but he pulled back.
Time for Xander. Performer, sure. Already his vein was healing, meaning that he’d probably died back there and just hadn’t realized it, but he rubbed away the blood using Spike’s shirt. Buffy didn’t need to see that.
He walked out, rubbing the back of his head dazedly, letting the alcohol get to him at last.
The next thing he knew, he was pinned against the heavy wooden door, a stake at his chest. Three, two, one...
“Xander?” Yep.
He grinned sheepishly. “Yeah. Sorry.”
“You’re not looking so good. Did the wittle wampires toss you around?” she teased, letting him go.
“Um, yeah. Also, I think they were drinking. They went that way. You should go after them and remind them why alcohol and hunting don’t mix,” he answered helpfully, pointing away from the direction he and Spike would be heading.
She shook her head. “Must have slobbered all over you. I’d take a shower. You smell of major yuck.”
He grinned at that. “Will do.”
“And, Xander. I know your manly pride has trouble with this stuff, but seriously, leave slaying to the Slayer, ok?” She actually did look concerned. In a ‘looking out for a friend’ rather than a ‘looking out for a civilian’ way.
“I can’t promise anything. You know manly pride is a tricky thing.” He winked. “I can try, though.”
“Get going!” She bounced off in the other direction, giggling. She hadn’t noticed the pinpricks on his neck.
And the Oblivious Award of the Night goes to...Except, then again, awarding it would completely miss the point.
He walked for a while in the other direction, then doubled back to pick up Spike.
Spike was apparently feeling a lot better now. He had begun to pace and finally grabbed Xander, worried. “Xan. Are you hurt?”
“Feeling a little light-headed, and of course...” He didn’t get to finish, as Spike picked him up bridal-style and took off in a run.
“Spi-” but he couldn’t finish. His eyes were closing by themselves.
