Magic Moments

“Ah, Xander, Spike. Do come in.”

“We didn’t wake you?” Xander asked, noticing Giles’ relatively awake appearance.

“No, of course not.”

“Oh. I thought it might be a bit late.” Xander checked his watch. “Or early.”

“Well, late it certainly is, but I’ve been waiting. Spike…”

Spike coughed up a lung.

“…I mean, I’ve been waiting for…a…thing.”

“A thing?”

“Yes.”

“What thing?”

Giles pointed upwards. “A…star thing,” he said slowly, his brain unable to form anything even remotely close to a reasonable excuse.

“A star thing,” Xander repeated.

“Yes. A…shift in the constellations. It’s supposed to be happening tonight."

Xander frowned and planted himself on the couch. “Aren’t you going to ask why we’re here?” he asked Giles.

“Oh! Of course, yes, please tell me why you are here at such a late hour.”

Spike stood behind the couch and closed his eyes. As intelligent as the Watcher might be, he was a terrible actor. Most people with half a brain would have worked out that Giles was lying through his teeth. Spike was almost tempted to slap Xander for not catching on to it.

Xander turned around and flashed Spike a look that was way beyond pitiful. “Spike? You said you’d tell him.”

So Spike re-told the story and Giles had the good grace to act surprised, shocked, horrified and sympathetic in all the right places. But the true surprise came when Spike pointed at Xander and declared, “He's got fat.”

Giles leapt out of his chair like he’d been given an electric shock and proceeded to give Xander a thorough and, in Xander's opinion, unnecessary poking.

Finally, Xander decided that he’d had enough. “Quit it! Geez, I’m pregnant, I’m not suffering from please-poke-me disease. Need some personal space, here!”

“Yeah, back the fuck off, Watcher.”

“I just want to…”

“Shut your bloody gob. All that prodding gonna make him un-pregnant?”

“Err, no.”

“Right then. Leave him the fuck alone and do something that is actually going to help!”

“Well, I do have some books…”

“Go get them, then!”

“Yes, yes. Of course. I’ll be right back. Xander, is there anything I can get you?”

Xander opened his mouth to ask for something strawberry flavoured, but Spike cut him off before he got the chance to voice his request.

“He’s fine. He needs anything, I’ll get it for him.”

Giles nodded and retreated. Spike was beginning get a wee bit growly and it was probably best to just do as he asked and not wind him up any further.

Spike paced about the room and tried to make sense of his own emotions. A protective streak a mile wide had just ripped through him and Spike wondered if the spell had affected his mind.

Xander’s gaze followed Spike around the room. That damn suspicious vamp was being all suspicious again. First an offer to get him whatever he wanted or needed and now there seemed to be a large amount of pacing and muttering going on.

“Well, do you?” Spike suddenly asked.

“Do I what?”

“Want anything. More chocolate, some fruit, crisps, kick up the backside, perhaps?”

Xander smiled, pleased at the semi-snark. He just wasn’t ready to deal with a completely considerate Spike. “That’s okay. I can get…”

“What? I’ll get it. What do you want?”

“No, really. I’ll…”

“No, no, let me…”

“No, I can manage…”

“No, I insist…”

“Spike!”

“What?!”

“You’re freaking me out again. Stop being so helpful. It’s really weird. And also? I’m…pregnant. I’m not sick. I’m *not* an invalid. I’m independent, Spike. I don’t need anyone to…I’m starting to sound like a woman, aren’t I?”

“You said it. Look, bloody hell, I’m not trying to imply that you’re completely incapable. Although you are, by the way.”

Xander glared.

Spike ignored him and continued. “I just want to help. Do my bit.”

“Your bit?”

“Yeah. Look, I know it’s gotta be hard. Christ, I would be going out of my mind right now if it were me. Crazy monkey in the banana tree. You? You’re handling it well. Really well. I’m seriously impressed, Harris. So, I guess what I’m trying to say is that I…admireyou. There, I bloody said it.”

Spike paced to other side of the room and continued.

“I said it and I’ll say it again. I. Admire. You. *And* I’m gonna help you, whether you like it or not. I don’t know if it’s the spell or just because I’m a sappy bastard, but I’m feeling some stuff here and there’s this part of me, a tiny little part, that *almost* wishes that we could keep the baby.”

Spike turned and paced back to where he’d started.

“Now, I know what you’re gonna say… Xan?” Spike glanced around the room and, in a moment of complete confusion, checked under the table. “Pet? Where’d you go?”

The sound of retching coming from the kitchen gave Spike a small clue. He poked his head around the door just to be sure.

Xander was bent over the kitchen sink, his hands gripping the edge of the counter hard enough to turn his knuckles white.

“My speech wasn’t that bad, was it?”

“Sick…feel…urgh.”

Xander threw up the contents of his stomach.

Spike stood well back. “Crikey! You alright?!”

“Do I look alright?!” Xander snapped, before he found some more half digested food to fill the sink with.

“Well, no.” Spike shifted uncomfortably from foot to foot. He wanted to help, he really did. But one, he didn’t want to aggravate Xander further. And two, he was slightly concerned about splash-back. He called over his shoulder in a tone that was very much like a child wailing for its mother. “Giles! Xander’s being sick!”

A muffled reply floated down the stairs. It sounded something along the lines of, ‘not on my rug, I hope.’

Spike rolled his eyes and prepared to get his hands dirty. It was a stomach-churning job, but someone had to do it. He cautiously approached Xander, so as not to surprise him and cause a mouth-to-duster vomit incident, and gave him a few pats on the back.

Xander vomited up something round and brown. “Spike, I don’t doubt that you’re trying to assist. Again. And I really do appreciate it. But giving me a broken spine isn’t going to help.”

“Oh.” Spike stopped ‘patting.’

Xander vomited up something square and red.

Spike laughed nervously. “Good job we haven’t made those sloppy Joe wotsits.”

Xander vomited up something indescribable.

“Bleedin’ fuck! What the hell was…?”

“Spike?” Xander croaked.

“Yeah?”

Xander turned on the tap and splashed his face. “Could you do something for me?”

“’Course. Anything. Anything at all. Except, I ain’t cleaning that up.” Spike pointed to the vomit that trailed across the kitchen floor.

Xander stood up straight and shrugged. “Giles can do it. It’s his floor. Can you, um, go home and get something for me?”

Spike nodded. “What?”

“If you tell anyone about this, I’ll be forced to hurt you,” Xander warned.

“Ain’t gonna tell.”

Xander grimaced. Did he really want to ask Spike to do this for him? Did he really want to give Spike even more ammunition than he already had? Couldn’t he just cope without it?

No.

By all the gods, he was pregnant and in desperate need. The urge was just too great. The longing just too painful. What was happening to him? Where were all these emotions surging from? It didn’t matter. He had to have it.

“Could you go home and get my bear? It’s under my pillow.”

Spike simply nodded again and headed for the door. Xander wondered who’d vamp-napped Spike and replaced him with some kind of impostor. Where was the laughing and the humiliating? This was just too surreal.

Spike closed the front door and walked to the car. So, Harris wants his teddy bear, does he? What a pouf…

Now where the hell did I leave mine?

TBC…