Plei, I just wrote Buffy/Wes. Did I mention how this is your fault?

Lalala.

Fault? There's fault here?

I see no fault.

Dana is a stone killer.

Fault and glorious fault. Whee! They really are a OTP, both dark and light, aren't they?

Dana, more please.

More, quickly.

Dana is a goddess, but we knew that. And I'm so happy to have ita writing and posting again - such a joy.

Here's my flashfic story - 1000 words. It's supposed to be h/c, does this count?

Pairing - S/X
Written for hils

Author Notes - This takes place during the episode 'Spiral'. Xander's first lines and the final dialogue exchange are taken directly from the episode. I like to think that the scene that I've written between those lines was filmed, but got cut for time.

Having a Real Good Day

I thought it hurt when Glory poked a finger into my chest and dug around, but that's nothing compared to the pain of watching Buffy fawn all over young Doctor Ben. I steal a sodding recreational vehicle for her, prevent her getting pithed, get my hands sliced to ribbons - and the most she'll do is toss me orders like they were bones. I'm not going to take this - I may be Love's Bitch, but I've never been its lapdog.

Keep the pressure on Dawn said to me when she was bandaging my hands, and I answered her true when I said that I always did. But we're in a shack, surrounded by the Renaissance Faire, my bally lighter won't strike, and the pressure is too much. So when Harris closes the door on triage and grabs my lighter, I decide to have myself some fun. The boy cups his hands around the flame; I look up, thank him, and cover his hands with mine. I dip my head to light my smoke, letting my fingers linger on his wrists as he pulls away - he pockets my lighter, and isn't that interesting - and I can sense his confusion even as I damn the cloth that keeps me from feeling his warm skin.

"You know, those things will kill you."

Stupid quip - he's off balance. Good, I like him like that. So I look up at him from under my lashes, let my gaze erode his composure a little more, until he flushes and mutters "Oh, right." before looking away.

"Lots of things can kill you, might as well enjoy them while they do it." I stand and toss my cigarette as I speak; I'm a tad too close to him. I can hear his pulse jumping. "You're in a dark room, alone with a vampire and an unconscious Templar. No one to stop me when I sink deep into your pretty white skin." I lean closer to him with each word, until my lips graze his throat with each plosive. The sweat that sheens his skin is not from fear.

"You can't bite me."

"Wasn't thinking of biting you." I taste his ear before I tilt my head back, pushing my hips against his. "Not unless you ask me real nice."

His eyes glitter in the dark of the room and the blood rushing to his head makes both of us dizzy. I forget about the others and lose myself in his wide-eyed startlement. He strains away from me as I move in; the new angle increases the pressure on my groin. My moan is muffled in his gasp when our lips meet in lust and a surprisingly sweet tangle of tongues.

I'm concentrating on his mouth, on the click of teeth and the spit slicked curve of lips, but we're wearing entirely too many clothes. I'm trying to remedy the problem when pain shoots up my arm.

"Bugger." I look down to see my wayward hand pressed up against Xander's cock, bandage hopelessly tangled in his zipper. Fiddling with the pull brings another twinge, and a groan from the boy.

He looks down, pulls in a deep breath, raises passion-drugged eyes and licks at his wet, red mouth with a nervous and wanton tongue. "Hands in new places." he whispers as he reaches, disengaging the bandage, sliding down his zipper, pushing at his jeans until they catch on his hip bones and he stops with a shudder. And I know that he's recalling who he's with and what he's doing and all the reasons why he shouldn't be doing this and doing me and all of a sudden it's vitally important that he knows all of this and still chooses to do it. That he knows it's me doing this to him. No. With him.

I step back a pace and let the night air cool him. He looks at me, uncertain and frightened, I drop to my knees in front of him, looking up at his hungry young face, and lick my lips. He sucks in a deep breath and looks away. It's the crisis point - I'm trying to decide if nuzzling will push him over the edge when he lets out a sigh of utter, abject surrender and nudges his waistband until the denim pools around his feet.

I give in to impulse and rub my face along the soft, heated cotton of his pants, nibbling at the ridges of his penis through the cloth, reveling in the hardness and the heat.

I'd curse my useless hands were it not for the treat of his gasping surprise when I pull at the elastic waist with my teeth, tugging it over the length of his erection and lower, until it dips beneath his testicles and I release it with a snap that sends a ripple of pain through my head and a jolt through his body. I continue to rub against him; breathing in the aroma of blood and lust and life.

His hands grab my head, fingers twisting into my hair, he's moaning with need when I slip my mouth around his cock and swallow him deep. He bucks, once, twice, and I'm glad that I don't need to breathe and can savour each thrust.

The moans are louder than before. I think that we realise simultaneously that the noise is coming from across the room. His cock slides from my mouth with a slurp when I turn to see General Forehead waking up. By the time I turn back Xander has already zipped up and is nervously smoothing his hair.

I stand up, dust off my knees, and lean up against the table next to Xander. We maintain a proper manly distance and stare at the trussed man while he moans and stirs.

"Have I mentioned today how much I don't like you?" His smile is rueful.

"Might have let it slip in." We exchange sly, sidelong glances. "Once or twice."

Here's mine: Possibilities. Tara/Anya, Season Four.

And Dana, that was fantastic.

Spike/Xander! Spike/Xander! Whee!!! By Elena!!!

Damn this incoherence.

heheheheheh.

I'm not participating in the 1000-word thing, but damn, am I enjoying reading everyone's?

Oh yes.

yes, I'm just using this because I'm too lazy to save it to anything else. Getting people on this bus is such a pain.

Giles looked at his watch impatiently. "Granted, I've watched Buffy prepare for major outings before, so I know how she is on organization, but, really ..."

Spike was leaning against the side of the bus, one foot up and flat on the vehicle. He seemed quite calm and collected as he smoked, until one saw the way the foot against the bus was nervously tapping. "I'm not going back in there, mate. Joyce is still arguing that she should stay, Slayer keeps picking things up and wondering if she should bring them, and Niblet and Demon Girl are hiding in the corners. What's taking Red and Harris so long?"

"I don't know. Spike, one of us is just going to have to go in there, grab things, and bring them out and stow them on the bus. And you're the one with the invitation."

"Ripper, please, they're all just waiting for a common target to stick his head in there--"

They both looked over in relief as Xander's car pulled up in the driveway. "Isn't that ..." Giles started.

Spike laughed. "Good on you, Red. Leave no one behind."

Willow, climbing out of the back seat, blushed but smiled. "I was just wanting to save time. Now we can go." Tugging gently, she pulled Tara out of the car to stand beside her. Tara stared at the two vampires anxiously but cuddled into Willow's shoulder quietly.

Giles looked pointedly at Xander. "Do not give me that look, Giles," Xander snapped, pulling bags from the trunk. "Just--don't." He carried duffles and backpacks onto the bus.

"It's not his fault," Willow said firmly. "I threatened him with the resolve face. And it's too late now, anyway. Where is everybody?"

Spike and Giles looked at each other. "They're, um, still ..." Giles started.

"They're still packing," Spike finished.

"Still?" Willow protested. "But I thought we had to get going. Why haven't you gone in and hurried them along?" Spike and Giles looked each other again.

"Geez," Xander muttered as he jogged down the bus steps. "Creatures of the night, they hide. I'll go get them. If nothing else, I can haul Anya out of there bodily."

"She likes the caveman act, huh?" Spike asked. He chuckled at the evil look Xander gave him as he headed up the walk.

Still, Xander took a deep breath before opening the door of Chez Slayer. Not-quite-raised voices came from the kitchen, but Dawn was sitting on the couch, hunched together as if she didn't want to be noticed. She looked up at Xander anxiously.

"We're back," he said with as reassuring a smile as he could manage. "Time to load 'em up and head 'em out."

Dawn looked toward the kitchen nervously. "Mom's saying she shouldn't go, that she'll only slow us down."

"Well, I don't know how, it's not like we're making a run for it cross country on foot. Get on the bus, I'll make sure she comes along."

Anya came out of the kitchen. She had her arms wrapped around herself and her unhappy thinking look on her face. "You're back."

"I'm back. What's up?"

"Why is Joyce being so stubborn? She knows it's not safe if she stays. I mean, we're going to go get Tara, who will slow us down as much as a woman recovering from a stroke, but no one's suggesting Tara stay behind. Doesn't Joyce know that everybody will just worry about her if she's not with us?"

Xander hugged her. "It's something good moms do, not want to be a burden. She thinks Buffy has enough to do without worrying about protecting a sick mom."

"That's dumb. Buffy will worry anyway, she's in there saying that. But Joyce keeps being stupid and noble."

"We're not leaving her, so it's not going to be a problem."

"Well, it's not like we can just drag her out of here--" She tilted her head to study the look on Xander's face, then smiled.

"I said nothing about dragging!" Xander protested.

"Xander," Dawn gasped, "you're not going to just grab my mom and--and carry her off."

"No, I'm not. Your mom's a smart woman, she'll see the logic of our arguments."

"And if she doesn't?" Dawn sounded far less outraged than one might expect at the idea of her mother being carried out bodily.

"Hopefully it won't come to that. I mean, we've already got Tara on board, so Mrs. Summers can't really argue."

"Tara?" Anya frowned. "We have to go get Tara."

"Well, no. Willow talked me into going and getting her just now. Tara's on the bus."

Dawn squeaked and looked towards the door, then, guiltily, towards the kitchen.

"Go on," Xander said. "The more people already on the bus, the more argument we have for getting a move on."

Anya leaned up to kiss him. "You're a brave man, Xander Harris. I like that about you. Come on, Dawn." She took Dawn's arm and led her out the door.

Xander squared his shoulders and headed for the kitchen, trying not to wonder why Anya considered arguing with Buffy and Dawn's Mom something requiring courage.