Gossip on the Edge

[madimpossibledreamer]

Clueless Xander is delightful.
~Dreamer~

Main Points:
Buffy/Dresden Files Crossover
Chapter Summary: Xander takes Steel (Spike) up on his offer.
Word Count: 1179
Rating: Teen

 

          “If I’d have known you were going to invite Miss Summers as your plus one, I’d have reconsidered.”  Steel is frowning at me.  He rarely frowns at me.  My brain immediately takes it as a threat when he’s not being amused at me.
          I try not to overreact because that’ll just make him even more on edge.  Gangsters on edge usually leads to shootings.  Which are of the bad.  “Look, if you wanted to flirt with Willow, you could have easily just invited her instead.”
          “Oh, it’s not your company I’m objecting to.”  It’s…odd.  Glancing over, I’m pretty sure he actually means it.  But then…hmm.  Having shared a soulgaze, I’m a known quantity, as much as you can ever know anyone.  I expect mobsters appreciate known quantities.  They’re unlikely to stab you in the back without you knowing about it.  With that, I could actually see him finding being around me strangely relaxing.  “I just try not to spend much time with our city’s finest, as much as I can help it.”
          “That’s not exactly the impression you were giving at the dedication the other day.”  Yeah, he is enjoying the banter.  Because he knows that I won’t just kick him down a flight of stairs without warning.  I might not be the biggest fan of the mob, but I like to play fair.  Makes me better than them.  “As for my choice, she’s here in an unofficial capacity, as I’m sure you know, because it’s not like she can write a report since it’ll only get buried anyway.  Mostly, I think, she’s here so you don’t have me killed.  She’s only got eyes for our friendly neighborhood untrustworthy vampire, and she’d probably also kill me.”
          From the way he frowns at me, he’s trying to decide whether or not I’m being hyperbolic.  “I’d think you should be more concerned for your safety.”  That’s…shockingly not a threat.  At least, it doesn’t feel like a threat.  Is he…actually agreeing with her?  About my safety?
          I wince.  Not only is this whole situation weird and freaky, my love life is actually a bit of a sore spot.  Not that he’d know, or care.  Probably.  “To be fair, I can be perfect friends with a lot of people, but something about dating me seems to turn people homicidal.”  Or get them hurt.
          He…actually seems upset by the idea.  But then, I—I’ve turned into a mob boss’s safety blanket, haven’t I?  Help.  “A curse, do you think?”  There’s no sign of the anger in his voice, but he can’t hide the hints in his eyes.
          “We’d probably notice.  Among other things, I was checked for all sorts of spells after—”  I realize, midsentence, that I’m about to talk about the aftermath of the trial, which is probably a terrible idea in a lot of ways.  Easy as he is to talk to, it’s easy to forget that he’s a mob boss with blood on his hands one way or another.  I’m generally not supposed to talk about this.  Even if he might generally be in the know about the supernatural, the inner workings of the High Council aren’t meant for outsiders, and as much as I’d like to sic that sarcasm on them, I’m not sure I want to see what happens when Steel decides they’re in the way.  I really shouldn’t be doing anything putting Willow in danger, anyway, and I suspect they would violently and potentially homicidally disapprove.  And I trust him probably more than I should, but he still might use such vulnerability against me.  He notices, and gets even more frown-y, but I am definitely not about to finish that sentence.  “Anyway, a lot of different people have checked me because of my bad luck, and nobody has found anything, so it’s probably not actually a curse.”
          He hesitates, probably considering whether he has any resources he can offer to get a wizard in his debt.  When he doesn’t voice that, it becomes clear that either he doesn’t know anyone (and will probably be working double-time to make sure he becomes acquainted with someone, not me, since it’s clear I don’t fully know what I’m doing in that department, who can do all that curse-detection stuff), or whatever glimpse he got of my soul told him exactly how stubborn I am and how likely I am to accept his help.  Or both.  “That’s good to hear.”  Another pause as he swirls the wine or champagne or whatever it is around in his glass.  Buying time for thought in the Society-approved way, I guess.  (I’m not drinking, because I’ve already been nearly killed by not being prepared once this week and that’s exceeding my quota.  Also, I’m the child of alcoholics, but generally not being dead because of reflex time is the most important factor.)  “By the way, I’ve been meaning to ask…how does a Slayer and a Vampire fall in love?”
          I wipe off the smile as quick as I can, but by the smirk and way he lights up, I get the feeling it wasn’t fast enough for him not to notice.  I didn’t think he’d be a little gossip, but then, I’d seen his previous efforts at mingling, and the atmosphere here would make the iceberg that sunk the Titanic melt in shame.  Whatever chance for friendly business got entirely lost with that scene in the mansion.  A pity.  Truly.  “A question for the ages, but definitely not me.  I have no idea, and I’ve got the feeling that if I did know I wouldn’t want to.”  I can see how he might be appealing, with the whole cool mystique, and it’s not like he doesn’t have a great body, too.  I’ve even seen how he’s polite to people he doesn’t hate, and he can also be stammery like a schoolboy with a crush.  It’s the he’s a vampire part I don’t get.  Never will.
          Summers herself is sitting at a table chowing down on the appetizers, once I’d cleared them for poison or spells.  The frosty politeness she’d met any attempts at approaching her could probably cause another ice age.  That, and the obviously-not-standard-issued axe she’d bought along as a ‘comfort blanket’ have led to the vampires all giving her a wide berth, which is for the best anyway.  Not that I think a Vampire Slayer would get caught unawares by the whole vamp saliva thing, but cutting down on the chances for something sneaky always helps.  Particularly when you’re in the middle of what’s supposed to be a shady diplomatic kind of party.
          Steel reaches out and pats my arm.  “Well, I’d like to congratulate you on remaining drug-free.  Please, keep it that way.”  And then he walks off without me being able to retort, the nerve of him.  I mean, I’m not going for the vamp saliva thing either, but he makes it sound like that was the whole reason I volunteered—er, was volunteered for this thing in the first place, rather than keeping an eye on Steel and Chase’s vamps.