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Cicirossi
Joss Whedon is God and owns all. It's still his world, although we like to sneak in the side door and cover Xander with chocolate sauce and whipped cream when no one's looking.
"You. Sent it. The chocolate."
Buffy got that look, the one with the big eyes and the scrunchy nose and the quivery lip that still had the power to make him all forgivey. Except that he felt like he'd been run over by a Mack truck. Xander looked at Spike. "Could I have another one please?"
Crushing out his cigarette, Spike walked over and looked down at him. "Only got five left, pet. You really want to chance it?"
"Well, no chills or puking, that's true." Xander held out a hand. It shook badly. "But still not normal. And Buffy's cute little pout doesn't account for the fuzzy feeling this time. I think if I'm going to hear the rest, then yeah, more chocolate."
His vamp (his? since when his?) tilted his head to one side and studied Xander for a moment, then nodded sharply and headed for the kitchen. Buffy started to speak, but Xander held up a hand. "Not yet, Buffster. Willow, could you get my sweatpants?" Now was as good a time as any, he supposed, to realize that he was on the bed, not the couch, and wearing boxer shorts instead of dried, um, yeah. Why was Spike doing this stuff? Spike wasn't supposed to be nice. And he wasn't, except for when he was. Willow came back with his sweatpants and he slid them on, teetering dangerously as he stood. God he felt weak.
After what seemed like at least an hour of uncomfortable silence, Spike came back with half of a Caramel Tornado. At Xander's raised eyebrows, he just shrugged. "Let's see if that'll do, right? Need to conserve, just in case. What?" he asked as Willow and Buffy both turned confused looks on him. "Makes sense, doesn't it?"
"It makes sense, Spike. Which is why they don't get it, coming from you."
That made Spike relax, back on familiar ground, and he gave Xander a two-fingered salute. "Whatever. Going to get me some blood. Back in a bit."
"Wait!" All three heads swiveled back to Xander. Buffy and Willow were starting to look like they were watching a really intense tennis match. "There's some in the fridge. You don't need to wander off. Just in case, like you said."
"Right. I'll just get it out of the fridge then, shall I?"
"Right."
Once Spike was out of the room, Buffy made another try. "Xan? I know the chocolate makes you do all sorts of weird things, and Willow explained that some of those were, oh, really weird, but Spike?"
"The chocolate?" he shot back. "That you sent? What's up with that?"
Arms crossed, shoulders hunched, Buffy moved a little ways across the room. "Dawn and I saw a flyer at the mall. The chocolate of the week club. It said, 'give someone you care about something they've always wanted.' And it had a list of all of these chocolate bars. I remembered that you said that Chocolate Hurricanes were your favorites, once, and Dawn thought it was really you. So we sent in the order."
"The thought was great, Buffy, but I gotta tell ya, I never thought chocolate was dangerous to anything but my blood sugar."
"I'm sorry, Xander."
"I know." Silence again, and wasn't that excruciating? They all heard the microwave ding, then Spike wandered back in, looking for all the world like he belonged there.
"So, if you ordered it by mail, where did you send the money?" Spike asked.
"Oh. Right. What kind of address was it Buffy?" Willow looked all action woman again, happy to have some direction for their quest.
"It was a PO Box. But maybe I still have the flyer attached to the check stub. Trying to account for every penny spent, after all." She sounded so rueful that they all smiled at her, except Spike, who rolled his eyes.
"So, what about the others then? The flying squirrel boy and the marathon guy? You think they got subscribed to the chocolate club too?"
"Spike! That's awful." Willow looked like she wanted to hit him, but he did have something there, so she didn't. "But maybe he's right. Buffy, we should go back to the house and get the PO Box, so I can try to trace it. While I'm doing that you can check on the four people in the paper, try to find out if they got the chocolate too."
"Cool. What do I do?" Xander wanted to do something, anything but sit there and wait for them to find something out. He hated being the useless one, which he knew wasn't fair, because this wasn't his fault and it really wasn't a butt monkey situation. But it still felt bad and wrong and he was bouncing in place with his agitation without realizing it until Spike's hand landed on his shoulder to hold him still.
"Looks like that half a piece did it, pet. You really want to go out like this? When you know what will happen next?"
Oh, gee, thanks for reminding me, he thought. But Spike was right. Who knew what he would do when either a) the chocolate wore off, or b) the Spike lust got so bad that he just jumped him in public. Which had appeal, but it shouldn't and that made his decision for him. "He's right. I guess I stay here."
"No!" Willow shook her head violently. "No. You can come with us. You don't need to stay here. Alone. With Spike."
Before he could even open his mouth to answer, Spike moved, and Buffy and Xander were both frozen in shock as he pushed Willow up against the wall and got right in her face. "He stays with me. And you should be glad it's me he's got a thing for, shouldn't you, rather than skydiving or stock car racing? I have a chip in my head, now don't I? I can't hurt him. I just help out when it gets too much for him. And he's only got four and a half bars left, and at least three days until the next shipment. Instead of arguing with me, how about you go figure out how to cure him?"
As if finally shaking off the shock, Buffy moved too, and yanked Spike off of Willow. "Stop it. Both of you." To Willow she said, "Spike has a point. We don't have to like it, but it's true." To Spike, she said, "You stay here. Keep an eye on him and your hands off him. We'll be back. Willow?"
Reluctant, Willow followed Buffy out the door, leaving Xander with one strangely wistful look. Leaving him with Spike. Again.
"Alone at last," Xander quipped, trying to make the butterflies in his stomach fly far, far away.
"Yeah. So why don't you tell me all about the whole give someone you care about something they've always wanted thing, pet."
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