* * * * * * * * * *

Fifth Position: The Magician

"A state of harmony with, or the ability to control one's environment. One who
possesses the positive qualities of humankind, including skill, initiative,
intelligence, discernment, and comprehension. Reversed: A manipulating
trickster. One who is willing to exploit the weaknesses and trust of others,
resulting from a lack of real self-esteem, and domination by outside forces."



* * * * * * * * * *



Xander sped his pace again to catch up with Buffy. He shouldn't let his mind
wander and try to walk with her at the same time. But really, could anyone
blame him, this wandering? Pulled from the most amazing kiss of his life *Okay,
pushing that thought aside for now.* to explain to one of his best friends why
he had been kissing...Spike, it seemed unfair, so a little mind travel should be
expected.



In fact, when comparing the two kisses he had received from...Spike, he was
shocked at the differences. The first had been, well, sweet in all of its
attention-grabbing glory. Xander was more grateful for the distraction the kiss
had offered than for the head-trip it had sent him on last night. But tonight,
tonight's kiss had been so beyond explanation, Xander would have to ask Willow
for words to describe it. And maybe it wouldn't hurt to admit, for just this
one second, that he hadn't been on the receiving end of tonight's kiss.



And he really, really should not tell Buffy that.



*Buffy who? Oh yeah, girl walking ahead of me again.*



Xander brought his mind back to the here and now of one very pissed off Slayer,
and matched Buffy's steps to sneak a peek at her face. No, not an angry
expression, just Buffy in super-thought mode. So a little reminiscence on his
part was okay. Except now reality-type thoughts kept intruding. Like, why were
he and Spike kissing? And why did he hold Spike's hand earlier as if to let go
would have made the vampire disappear? *I mean, kissing...okay, weird, but the
brain can at least process the words now. But holding hands? Like a...like a
boyfriend?* Xander shook his head. He didn't know if he even liked the guy.



Which was way outside the realm of whether or not Spike liked him. Or what else
Spike might want to do to him. Because he had no clue what sorts of things two
guys did together. Well, except for the times he'd snuck to the back of the
magazine shop to flip through those magazines, which hadn't given him any ideas
at all. Nope. Not a one. *Ack! Thinking about sex with Spike!*



Xander looked for the nearest wall to bang his forehead against.



Buffy was gone again. No, not gone, just up ahead, holding the door to the
Bronze open for him. Wait, he should be doing that for her. Some manly guy he
was, kissing male vampires and peeking between the Abercrombie and Gap ads for a
clue. He tried to save face by grabbing the door above her head and gesturing
her inside, but it only made Buffy look at him as if he'd sprouted horns
somewhere above his eyes. Not a terrible thing in the face of it all, except it
made Xander realize that she was having trouble meeting his eyes.



By unspoken agreement, Buffy went to find a private spot to sit while Xander got
drinks. He found her on a couch away from the stage and sat facing her while
she stared down at her drink. He would have to open this, he knew. He may be
confused about any possible change in his life under the label 'sexual
orientation', but one thing he was sure of: they were supposed to be past the
'ignore the problem and it will go away' phase of their friendship. He stared
at her, willing her to look at him. Desperate measures might be needed. He
searched his memory banks for a clue as to how to start.



"So, Buffy...have you considered just how open your mind has to be before your
brain falls out?"



Buffy's startled look became a bittersweet smile as she remembered the heated
argument that, earlier that summer, had almost torn the Scooby Gang apart. "So
this is a relationship choice, then?"



Xander smiled back. "No. That was a poor excuse for an opener. Want me to
try another?"



"This is serious, Xander."



And really, Buffy was looking serious. And she had a right to, because the
circumstances surrounding those memories had been created by Spike's deception.



But he didn't want to visit the past and couldn't resist one more smile and was
hoping for an eye twinkle. "I'm not sure if I'm capable of serious thought yet. 
Skipped that class too often."



He was rewarded with smile, twinkle, and swat on the arm. But then serious
became Serious, and Xander knew he had to start talking. If only he could
figure out where the start line was. Buffy figured it out for him.



"Is this about Anya?"



Xander shook his head, confused. "No, this is about me and Spike." He gulped. 
"And what you saw."



"I just mean, you and Anya, just all of a sudden...I didn't even know until
Willow told me."



There was no mistaking the hurt in the edges of her voice. Because they had all
promised no more secrets, and he'd been keeping one or two biggies. To be
completely honest, he was glad to have them out.



Taking a deep breath, Xander attempted the best answer he could. "I didn't
break up with Anya because of Spike, if that's what you're asking." At Buffy's
nod, he continued. "Or...maybe I did. All I know is I wasn't happy. And I was
making her less happy." He ducked his head, then met her eyes, which was a
little easier now. "I'm sorry I didn't tell you what was happening at the time. 
I was, and still am, confused."



"Is she all right?"



This was a curious question coming from Buffy, who never seemed to care about
Anya's welfare much before. Xander figured it was some sort of sympathetic
woman-scorned thing.



"She's less hateful today than she was two days ago, but that's because she has
a new life purpose now." Xander shrugged. "She came by today to say good-bye,
and that she didn't despise me. Of which I'm glad, because I still care about
her. I just can't be what she wants." That had never been more evident than
when they had shared a sweet kiss good-bye and all Xander could think to
describe it was...sweet.



"Good-bye?"



"Yeah, she's hitting the open road, until she gets to LA, then she's going to
look up some other demoted demon friend. I think they're going to go into some
kind of business together. Anyway, that's how I discovered the missing money, I
was going to lend her some."



The little light bulb went off above Buffy's head. "Which brings me to an
important point; you can't trust Spike," she said, nodding her head at her own
wisdom.



Xander couldn't deny her that truth. Spike was, above all things,
untrustworthy. Not just for stealing money, but for his repeated manipulation
and threats. Which was a good reason not to like the guy. And an equally good
one to believe he wasn't liked in return. Xander tried to bite back his
surprised disappointment at that thought, but some leaked through anyway.



Xander kept his attention away from his friend and glanced around the bar. He
did a double take when he caught a flash of blond hair by the pool table. 
There, bent over the table, smoke curling from a lit cigarette hanging out of
his mouth, was the Big Bad himself. Who may not be trustworthy, but was
exhibiting a bizarre sense of loyalty to Xander's safety. Who had held Xander's
hand as tightly as it had been held in return. Who was supposed to be at
Giles'. He fought rising panic at the thought of Spike wandering downtown
Sunnydale alone. After all, Xander had been the one ready to send the vampire
packing to his house just to keep Spike away from Buffy.



He turned back to Buffy as if he had seen nothing. "You're going to think this
is crazy, and I might be, but I do trust him...kind of."



"He's just making you feel sorry for him because he's all chipped and dipped."



"Look, he may play the pathetic card on occasion, but he can't make me feel
something I don't want to feel." And he would have to stop reading the
self-help books Anya had left behind, if he didn't want to sound like he watched
Oprah. "I have never felt sorry for Spike, and I think he actually appreciates
that," he clarified.



"So it wasn't a pity kiss, then?" she asked, hope disappearing from her face.



"That's what it looked like?"



"Actually, I'm trying to erase the visual memory of the whole event." Buffy was
biting her lower lip, which would have looked adorable, if Xander wasn't
fighting the urge to invoke Angel's name as a defensive shield.



'Cause he didn't want to hear about how Angel was different. Didn't want to
hear Angel's name at all. Not after what he'd read in some of Giles' notebooks
about vampires and sex. *Ack! Thinking about Spike and sex again.* His eyes
strayed over to the pool table, but the Bleached One wasn't visible. Xander
only just stopped himself from craning his neck.



He glanced at Buffy, at her expression of mixed compassion and shame and felt a
surge of anger. "Look. The truth of the matter is, if I want to be with him, I
will. I don't need your permission or your understanding."



He took a swallow of his drink, trying to ignore what he'd just said. Trying
not to be angry. Because anger leads to...no, wait, fear leads to anger which
leads to hate. And he couldn't ever hate Buffy.



Buffy put her drink down and turned, facing him fully. "Okay, shoot. I'm
all-willing ears." She crossed her legs and held up her index finger. "But
then I get the chance to talk." Then she smiled, her face open and friendly.



Xander was taken aback, anger forgotten. He was pretty sure starting at the
real beginning wasn't what Buffy wanted. She wouldn't be swayed by a story of
growing attraction and imagined chemistry. She wanted bare bones...er, facts. 
But he wasn't sure where to begin. He shifted, using the movement as an excuse
to casually pass his eyes over the room, relaxing when he spotted a familiar
figure back at the pool table. How would Spike start?



"Buffy, I'm gay." He paused for effect.



She wrinkled her nose. "No you're not," she said.



He laughed with her. "Well, maybe," he said. "I'm still waiting for Tara to
get back to me on that one." Thoughts of Tara brought his mind where it needed
to be.



"When Wills and Tara cast that spell, something happened." At Buffy's 'Duh!'
look, he continued, explaining to the best of his comprehension, "You know how
Tara could tell you weren't you when Faith came back? How she can, like, sense
things. Special things about people." He slowed down here, making sure he got
it right. "When she cast that spell the other night, some part of her saw into
me and Spike. Things we didn't want to admit, like protectiveness and...I don't
know what else. All I know is the spell wouldn't have worked if those things
hadn't been there."



He stopped when Buffy looked like she wanted to say something. When he raised
his eyebrows, she waved her hand in a 'keep going' motion.



"I can't speak for Spike. It's not like we've talked about it or anything. But
I can say that on some level I feel...concern for him, for his well-being."



Xander opened his mouth to continue, but knew he was going to start rambling at
any second. Because beyond that concern, what was there, really? Slow building
attraction, playful and charged interactions that had left him trembling and
uncertain, but would Buffy understand all that? Maybe that's what it had been
like for her. Maybe that's why she was afraid for him.



She had already been half in love with Angel when she had found out he was a
vampire. And she had ended up loving him so much she had taken him back, had
protected him, even after he'd tried to kill them all. Even after Miss
Calendar.



Buffy took his silence as an invitation to speak. "You're sure the spell had
nothing to do with this?"



Xander nodded. Tara was sure, anyway, and he trusted her in that. But he
wasn't sure how Buffy felt about Tara and her role in this yet, so he would try
to sound like these were his words. "The spell doesn't control my emotions,
just my reactions."



"And you're having...emotions...for Spike?"



Xander allowed the cheering and muttering crowd around the pool table to
distract him. There was a press of bodies where Spike was playing. *Way to
keep a low profile, pal.* He looked back at Buffy, who seemed focused on him
alone, and felt guilty. She'd had every right to dust Spike on several
occasions and hadn't out of her own sense of fairness. She deserved the truth
he hadn't even told himself.



"Yeah. Definite emotional stuff happening."



Her face was neutral, but her hands were making a twisted mess of her shirttail. 
"Wow," was all she seemed capable of saying for a minute before she recovered
her footing. "Because you're right, you know? You don't need my permission at
all to have emotions for him-" she stopped and just looked at him for a moment,
cocking her head as if studying a new, not too threatening demon. "I just don't
want you to get hurt, Xander."



"Do you mean in the what-I-did-to-Anya-two-days-ago sense, or in the
fangs-in-my-neck sense?" he asked, needing her answer to see if it matched his
own worry. He heard more cheers from Spike's direction, but kept his awareness
on his friend.



"I'm just saying that, while he may have wanted to protect you before the spell
was cast, it might have been for Spike-like reasons." She faltered, as if
searching for the nicest way to let him down. "Spike's smart, Xander. He can
tell-he might just need- He might be using you, for money, blood and now
protection from his own enemies."



Xander let out the breath he'd been holding. She was right. Of course she was
right. She has had experience with boyfriends and vampires. And boyfriend
vampires, for that matter. Particularly boyfriends that made it a habit of
trying to kill you when they relived their evil vampire-like ways. Vampires
kill; Xander had to keep reminding himself of that fact. His head dropped, his
drink quite fascinating, really.



Tara had just said that Spike does, but Xander hadn't asked, does what?



More groans from across the bar and Xander would not look over there. His gaze
roamed other parts of the room, recognizing another familiar shape with his back
to them. Xander caught Buffy's eye and pointed out Riley, nursing a drink at a
table. She smiled, but returned her attention to him.



"I don't know what to say, except for you're probably right," he said, his voice
thick and hating himself for it.



Now Buffy didn't look happy. He knew she didn't like hurting her friends, but
right was right. They sat in silence for a time. Xander listened to the sounds
of the people in the bar surrounding them and continued to study his drink until
Buffy took it out of his hand, put it down and grabbed his hands.



"I know he can't hurt you physically, but he still could in other ways."



Xander nodded at his lap, took a deep breath, tried to meet her eyes, and
failed. He knew he wouldn't be able to hide his feelings of disappointment from
her, and they were so raw he wasn't able to stuff them down yet. In the course
of one day, he had gone from having lustful heebie-jeebies, to hating the guy
for stealing from him, to feeling pleased that a vampire was following him
around like a deranged stalker, to hurting because Spikey probably didn't like
him back. It was like thinking your whole life you hated licorice until someone
told you not to eat it ever again.



Welcome to Xander Harris' personal version of the Bizarro World. Who needed
Superman's confused alter ego when your best friends could--physically and
metaphysically--kick your ass, and you wanted to ask a blood-sucking fiend to
the prom? He was so lost in this unaccustomed place of examining his feelings
that he hadn't realized Buffy was speaking until he looked at her fully.



"...Just try to protect yourself."



Xander stared at her, stupid. "Huh?"



"Look, I don't like Spike, but you do, or you want to, for some reason. And
you're right; I can't stop you from seeing anyone you choose to, I mean, look at
Cordelia." Buffy's smile was cautious. "If Spike's as smart as I think he is,
he'll know that I'm going to be keeping my eye on him. When he-" She took a
breath. "If he hurts you, I won't be held responsible for my actions."



She pulled him closer and, for one irrational moment, Xander was certain she
was going to kiss him. Instead she gazed into his eyes, dubious support shining
out of hers. "I'm not trying to make you doubt yourself. I just...just be
careful," she said, shaking his hands for emphasis. Then she let go and sat
back.



He was still staring at her, unable to figure out what had just happened.



"Well, come on. I can't stop you, but I can watch your back," she said with a
returning tone of warning in her voice. Then she smiled. "Besides, you both
looked...very into that kiss."



Xander allowed a slow smile to spread across his face. "Haven't been able to
erase the image?"



Buffy just laughed. That deep throaty one she got when something amused her
beyond logical thought. "Every time I think it's gone, I see Spike over there
playing pool and it all comes rushing back."



He turned his head and saw that the earlier crowd had thinned, leaving Spike
more visible. He turned back to Buffy before he could wipe his grin away.



Her smile softened when she saw him. "He followed you here." At his nod, she
stood and pushed his hair off his face, looking down at him. "Just be careful,"
she repeated.



Then she kissed him. On the cheek. Jerking her head in Riley's direction, she
raised her eyebrows. Xander waved her away. He picked up his drink again and
put it back down, suddenly nervous. Yep, just sitting here, all casual like. 
Not interested at all in the male vampire-type person ignoring him across the
room. Just watching some guy play pool.



Right. Xander walked over to the pool table and leaned against the wall,
watching Spike make shot after shot against a pair of giggling girls. He
remembered how there had been a time, before bumps in the night had become
reality, when Harmony or Cordelia would have loved the flirtatious attention of
a good-looking older man. *Wait...flirtatious?*



Xander felt his breathing speed up as he dealt with an unfamiliar emotion. 
Spike was flirting with those girls. And continuing to pretend Xander wasn't
standing here.



"Ridiculous," he said loud enough to be heard. Then he turned and stalked out
of the Bronze, heart trying to exit his body through his stomach.



Buffy was right. Spike didn't like him. Spike was using him. The chant
continued through his mind as he walked several blocks, head bowed. Even if he
could never forget the feel and sound of Spike moaning into his mouth, Xander
had to remember the most important fact, something he kept trying to overlook:
Spike was a bad guy. He didn't care about anyone but himself. Xander walked,
trying to force himself to let go of the secret hopes that he hadn't realized
had grown in his mind.



He felt the firm grip on his arm before he could register someone had been
following him. Xander groaned. Not a good night. He tensed, waiting for the
inevitable conclusion after leaving his protector behind in a fit of jealousy.



"Going somewhere, mate?" came the cool whisper at his ear.



All the breath left Xander's body in one gasp as Spike pulled him off the
sidewalk to a dark corner of the street. He watched as intent blue eyes scanned
the area before returning to look into his. Then he had to remind himself to
keep breathing, as the expression on Spike's face was...not something Xander
could name. *Hello? Brain, respond, please.*



"Spike. Done so soon?" *Oh, yeah. That was clever. Let's go for snappy
next.*



Which would be a lot easier if Spike would stop staring at him. Into him, more
like. Then Xander's eyes were unable to focus on Spike's as the vampire's face
drew closer to his. And Xander couldn't make himself care that the moan coming
from him had started before Spike's lips had met his.



Cool, burning cool invasion of tongue and lips, and all Xander could do was feel
and touch and hope no one would walk by. But then he didn't care as the tip of
Spike's tongue traced a path over his own, squirming around Xander's tongue,
which was attempting to feel the rough ridges on the roof of Spike's mouth. 
And, oh, Spike was bad, but this was good. Beyond good. Spike tasted of beer
and cigarettes and maybe a little of him from their earlier kiss. Xander moaned
at this thought, searching every inch of Spike's tongue for a taste of himself. 
And it was better than good. It was...it was wicked. Deliciously wicked. And
who needs Willow? All thought fled as the vibrations entered his brain from
Spike moaning into his mouth. Spike moaning for him.



The remaining voice of sanity, which, surprisingly, sounded like Oz, was
floating away, but still repeating over and over, "Don't go there. Stay away
from there. There be monsters." And all of the reasons Xander had used to build
walls against this feeling started to vanish as soft, Tara-sounding voices
tickled his mind, whispering, "Come, Xander, come to the Dark Side."



Now Spike's hands were inside his shirt, tracing paths across sensitive skin and
oh, resting over his heart, back where it belonged and beating through the cool
hand holding it in place. Xander's hands scrabbled for purchase on the bricks
of the wall he was leaning against, but that didn't feel right. Didn't
feel...there, now his hands were pulling up the so soft fabric of Spike's shirt,
smelling faintly of flowers and smoke, and that's what someone else's nipples
felt like, pinched and hard. For him.



Xander reached his hands around Spike's smooth chest and grabbed his back,
pulling him forward, forcing their bodies to come into closer contact. Now he
was moaning, or was it Spike? Dizzying pleasure arced through his body as
Spike's weight fell against him, pushing him into the unresisting wall. Wall. 
Street. Higher thought processes kicked in and he tore his mouth away from
Spike, who just might be searching for a taste of himself in Xander.



"Somewhere," he panted out. He gulped in several breaths, resting his head back
on the warm bricks. Cooler than Spike, though, who was warm now, as long
fingers continued their caress of his chest. Spike was making sounds of protest
but seemed to have contented himself nuzzling Xander's neck, sending pings of
bliss-fear straight to his groin. Xander pulled his hands from Spike's shirt
and pushed lightly, forcing an irritable growl from Spike.



"We have to go somewhere, Spike," he said, his voice faint. "Away from here
somewhere."



Without answering, Spike grabbed Xander's hand and started pulling. Mind dazed
and legs jellied from desire, Xander followed at a stumbling pace.



END