Authors: cordelianne and reremouse
Warnings: Disdain, stingy bastards and one offended vampire
Summary: In a post-Chosen, post-NFA, non-comic canon compliant world, Xander's working with the Council and Spike's working with Angel. Somehow they keep running into each other.
All parts are collected in my memories.
"Right. You can't blame this one on me, Harris."
Xander doesn't glance up from the computer screen behind the desk of the Hollywood Boulevard Weingart Youth Center. "You're not youth. If you're looking for the walk-in HIV testing, it's half a block that way."
There's affronted silence. Silence that obviously wants to blurt it's a bloody vampire and bloody vampires don't bloody get sodding HIV. And would blurt it, too, if not for all the human kids sitting around the lobby in shabby trendy clothes.
As silences go, it's pretty ranty.
Eventually, Xander sneaks a glance at Spike. His expression's pretty ranty too. "Hey, Spike."
Spike throws himself into the visitors' chair and folds his arms. "Pillock."
Spike looks around the run-down lobby with more disdain than a body that small should contain. He spares an extra dirty look for the cross behind the counter. "Picked a hell of a place for it."
"Well - you know - when you're looking for a runaway. I'm at the Griffith Youth Center every morning until noon."
"What's she running away from?"
Xander drums his fingers on the keyboard, gives the ethical dilemma a mental shrug. "You guys."
This time, the rant's out loud. "I never laid a finger on her!"
"Well - no - that's true. Which is why I'm not using my masculine wiles to trick you into waiting for me in my hotel room."
"Masculine wiles, my arse."
Xander's of two minds about that comment - and one agrees and the other disagrees - so he waves it off and Spike moves on.
"You're not wrong."
"What's he doing beating up on Slayers anyway?"
"Trying to convert her as far as we can tell. But you know how it is. Street smart little city girl. Big hulking bruiser lurking in shadows and following her around." Xander hits 'save' and tosses a kid a key. "You know the rules. Put the balls away, rack the cues."
The kid mumbles something that could be 'thanks' or could be 'whatever' but that's life undercover at a youth center like this one.
Xander turns back to the vampire at hand. "The point is, Angel's really lucky Buffy was a naive upper middle class child of the shopping mall."
"Always did wonder why she didn't kick him in the nads and run," Spike admits.
"He was cute." Xander swivels his chair. "Or so I've been told."
"Cute." Spike's tone says it all.
All having been said, Xander changes the subject. "I'm off at 8:30."
"Angel'd have a fit if he knew you were here."
"Which is why you're gonna tell him the day after I leave?"
"Bloody right. Not going to stop him tracking down the Slayer, mind." Spike shrugs and sprawls impossibly wider, an undead starfish in black leather. "If he's got his mind wrapped around it, not much I could do. And 's about time we had a slayer of our own, you stingy bastards."
"Hmm. Let's see. When the choice is me or her creepy stalker - I'm thinking...that's not gonna change any time soon."
"You don't mind stalkers."
"No - but you're not exactly creepy."
"Can be when I want to," Spike sulks.
"What're you doing at the Weingart?"
It's hard to sulk while looking shifty. The sulk loses.
"Oh that is so cheating for Angel to send you and your - your cheekbones and your duster and your undeniable disreputable charm after a Slayer."
"I'm the secret weapon."
Xander can't deny that part. "So what you're saying is it's just me and you looking for her now."
Xander looks at his watch. Looks at the clock. "What do you say to a twelve hour truce? My hotel's on Sunset."
They call a truce.
They have noisy sex that has both Xander's neighbors banging on the wall.
To be fair, one neighbor bangs on the wall and asks if they want company.
But the guy on the other side does.
Spike stays for breakfast from Julia's Mini Market next door.
Eventually, Xander calls Spike from LAX. Around noon. "Hey, Spike."
"Did I wake you up?"
A grunt answers in the affirmative. A very English grunt.
"Chela says hi. Apparently, she's a lesbian."
There's the sound of Spike collecting his dignity. "Right, then."