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href="non90.html">90Sajinn
No, they aren’t mine. I wish they were, but they aren’t. They belong to their creators. No money is being made. I just take them out, put them in pretty dresses, and make them fight each other. No harm, no foul. Feed the writer. Review.
Happy Birthday, Edahs.
Spike pulled Xander closer to him, absorbing the young man's laughter as though it was his life's blood. They'd just exited the wax museum, where Xander had taken great delight in comparing the vampire to the many statues within. Spike had endured the experience good-naturedly, knowing that the boy was simply being his normal, silly self.
An odd, furtive movement at the very periphery of his vision caught Spike's attention. A youngish man in a dark suit was following them, ducking into storefronts every so often. The vampire knew exactly what the man was-- a Watcher. If his shifty eyes and defensive posture didn’t give him away, the presence of a cross in one hand did. Spike shook his head, wondering when the Council had gotten so sloppy with their training.
He didn't spend much time pondering the sorry state of the Watchers, though. If they were being tracked, then they didn't have much time. This man had only followed them for a few blocks; they were rather close to the hotel, so Spike figured they had time to pick up a few things before they skipped town. The blonde hadn't thought they'd get to stay long in London, but he wanted to start their trip off there--out of a sense of nostalgia more than anything. The last big adventure of his life had started there. Of course, Spike hoped that this excursion with Xander would prove more pleasant than being dragged across Europe by Angelus.
"What's up?" Xander asked. He'd felt Spike tense up and begin to move with more purpose.
"We've got company," Spike whispered. "Have I mentioned how charming Brussels is?"
Xander frowned, worried. "What about..."
"Don't worry," Spike murmured. "We'll stop by the hotel."
Xander's face cleared. "Ok. We're going by rail, right? I've never been on a train before!"
Spike hurried Xander down the street, managing to lose their tail in the process. They ran up to their room, Spike tossing the desk clerk a credit card as they passed. Once in their room, both men quickly filled their luggage. Within minutes, they were downstairs, signing off on their room charges and piling into a cab.
Xander explored the train with the same enthusiasm he poured into everything, tempered only by the overhanging shadow of the Watchers who were pursuing them. The young man hoped they'd managed to avoid the Watchers this time; he was in no mood to watch his lover turn into ashes because some bunch of stuffy old men needed lives.
Spike settled into a compartment in first class, making sure that none of the other passengers felt a need to intrude on their privacy. The train wasn't full, so he didn't suspect there would be any problems. Xander was bouncing nervously, squirming on the seats. As the train began to move, Spike pulled the boy into his lap, hoping to still some of his nervous energy.
"We'll be fine, right?" Xander asked Spike, his voice tinted with desperation.
"Of course," Spike replied softly. "They're not gonna follow us for long; there's more important things for them to do."
Xander laughed roughly. "Yeah, like get Buffy through college." Spike chuckled right along with Xander, knowing that the Slayer would rather chase Xander and himself than go to class.
But Spike also knew that underneath Xander's worries about the Watchers was his concern about his friends. They'd discussed it before, but the vampire figured that it needed rehashing. "They'll settle down, and then we'll go back," He said quietly. "Remember?"
Xander nodded. He knew that Spike meant it; they'd return to Sunnydale someday. Until then, however, Xander was more than content to spend his days on the road with Spike, seeing things he'd never hoped to see. Getting to be with Spike all the time was, to Xander, the best part. A boy and his vampire. What could be better?
Spike grinned when he felt Xander's lips on his neck, sucking gently. The vampire shifted Xander around slightly, until he was straddling the blonde's thighs. Xander moved from Spike's neck to his lips, sliding their mouths together wetly.
Spike smiled into the kiss as he freed his and Xander's erections, wrapping a cold hand around the hard flesh. Xander joined him, warm fingers interlacing with cool. Soon the compartment was filled with the murmur of gasps and moans, the scent of sex permeating the stale air.
Xander leaned against Spike, letting the vampire bear the burden of his weight. At the same time, he felt all his fears and concerns fade away, easily supported by the demon in front of him. Spike tasted like blood and toffee, sweet and coppery. Xander rocked into the vampire's hand, reveling in the silken slide of their cocks.
Spike didn't bother to hold back his pleasure, feeling it spiral lazily through his body, insidious and intoxicating. His cold release spilled over Xander, eliciting the boy's climax. Spike swallowed the boy's soft cries, slowing the movements of their hands until were an unmoving, sated mass of boneless limbs.
"Forty-four," Xander whispered, tucking his head into Spike's neck. The vampire wiped his hand on the underside of their seat and leaned back for a nap, smiling all the while.
•••
"They were here."
Angel looked over at Buffy, nodding. "I know," He admitted.
"How did you lose them?" Giles hissed at Anthony. The young Watcher blanched.
"I-I... They were right there one moment, and then..." Giles waved him off.
"Never mind," The older Watcher snarled. "I take it they left no evidence pointing to where they are now?"
"Not a thing," Buffy muttered. She looked through the desk drawer one more time, hoping something would show up. Angel shook out the bedding, while the Watchers combed through the closet and searched under the bed.
"This is Xander," Anthony murmured, holding up a small square. Buffy reached for the item before Giles had a chance to take it.
The Slayer slowly turned over the white square. She saw that it was a Polaroid picture--of Xander. Her old friend was looking beyond the camera, off to the left. His mouth was curved in a wide grin, as though he was about to laugh at something. His brown eyes were dancing merrily, dark hair illuminated by the street lamps above him. Behind him was a classic London sight--a chip shop.
Giles took the picture from his Slayer, studying it carefully. "He does not seem to be hurt," He said slowly, peering at the still image. "However, it gives us no new information. We should continue to search."
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