Almost like home, chapter three
Fandom: Buffyverse
Pairing: Spander
Rating: R
Summary: the aftermath of battle...
“Bloody hell. Bloody hell.” Spike had come back to find the basement empty. Xander hadn’t moved for days, but had apparently decided to start doing so the second Spike had stepped out of the door. Of course he had. “Bloody freakin’ hell!”
The vampire started searching the house, reaching out with his senses to count the heartbeats in the house. Two in the parental bedroom. One of the cat sleeping on the couch in the living room. Six racy heartbeats from the mice hiding in the cellar off the back of the house. No Xander. Unless he… Spike searched the house again, this time physically going from room to room. Then he searched the block. Then panic set in. Maybe he left for Buffy’s place? Or Willow’s?
The trip to both houses was spent looking left and right for a Xander hidden in the bushes or fainted on the sidewalk. No luck. He stood at Buffy’s porch, cursing the man. “Bloody hell, Builder Boy.” He sighed and started throwing stones against the Slayer’s window. A particularly sleep-drowsy Buffy hung her head out of the window two minutes later. “What?,” she snapped.
“I erm… I sorta lost Xander,” he tried to muffle the last words, not wanting to admit his mistake. She just looked at him, frowning. “I’m sorry? I don’t think I heard that right. Did you just say you LOST Xander?” “Erm… Yeah, I do believe that’s what I said,” he said, standing up straight, pretending he was completely cool and not worried sick about the dumb idiot. He prepared for the bashing that was sure to follow the statement. “HOW do you LOSE Xander?” Buffy was definitely sleep-deprived. Spike sighed. This was gonna hurt. “Well, a man’s gotta eat. Or well...” She didn’t wait for him to finish that explanation. “Wait there.”
He didn’t know how she did it, maybe she always wore her clothes under her pajamas, -kinda like Superman in a way, he pondered- but she was downstairs in thirty seconds flat, fully awake and in Slayer mode. Frightening. “Have you checked Willow’s?” “Wouldn’t wake ya if I hadn’t.” “Right. Giles?” Spike mentally slapped himself. “Hadn’t thought of that.” “Lets go. And oh,” Buffy turned mid-pace and punched him in the nose. “That’s for losing him in the first place.”
“Well then.” Giles started rubbing his glasses again. It seriously disturbed Spike that this was the third time in fifteen minutes the Watcher had done that. They hadn’t found Xander. Even with all the Scoobies looking. “Have we found out anything on the poison used to wound Xander?”
Tara jumped to attention. Apparently she had been dozing off on Willow’s shoulder. “Aztec.” “I see. What else?” “Well, it was smeared on a blade they used in rituals for a god called Quetzalcoatl. He would demand a lot of attention, being god and all. This poison in particular was used to bind demons to serve Quetzalcoatl.” Willow said off-handedly. “This Quicksaltcoat needs servants? What for?”
So Buffy still couldn’t pick up a name on the first hear. Spike thought she might be doing it on purpose. “To build more temples, gain more followers, that sort of thing,” Tara answered shyly. “Quicksaltcoat wants Xander to build him a temple?” “Quetzalcoatl,” Spike muttered. “What?” “His name is Quetzalcoatl. Not Quicksaltcoat.” “I know what his name is, Spike. I’m just not in the mood to get my tongue tied up in knots. What stake crawled up your ass?” Spike threw her an angry glance. “The one that says ‘You’re wasting time while Xander’s got enough of a fever to die out there’,” he growled. Buffy arched an eyebrow, but said nothing.
Dawn shot up. “What about a locator spell?” Spike felt like strangling her with her pigtails. Why hadn’t he thought of that?