Wk 20: Pygmy Enemies Closer "Snark and Wild Turkeys"

[sunnyd-lite.livejournal.com]

For some reason the muse embraced this prompt. This is a continuation from the first part that I posted last week which you can read Here

Title: Enemies Closer part 2
Snark and Wild Turkeys
Author: SunnyD_lite
Fandom: Buffy
Prompt: Pygmy
Rating: PG for now,
Set: Post Hell's Bells
Word Count: 1624
Feedback: Love it!
Summary: Love is complex, sometime you need a simple hate. Drunken!Xander
A/N: Bunches of thanks to spiralleds who did a super fast betaing job. Then I re-worked it. All errors are, therefore, my own.
Disclaimers: I don't own the Buffy Verse, but Joss said play so here I am!


Xander slid his eyes towards the enemy. Spike was busy lighting another cigarette. He'd have to be quick and sneaky. Taking a deep breath, his hand darted out to the radio dial and twisted it, hoping to find a country station. It was music of pain time.

Spike had won the last round of "station identification" and, despite his years in construction, listening to Tool every third song was not the right type of pain.

Static, trombones, Mariah Carey, a voice saying, "We're coming up to the weather and traffic at six thirty in the p.m." His hand dropped and he sank back in to the seat.

6:30. Hey, he knew what was going to happen at 6:30. It was on the master schedule; Anya's Excel wedding spreadsheet. She'd been quizzing him all week. 6:30 was the end of cocktails and snacks (hors d'oeuvres Xander, not snacks!) and Mr. and Mrs. Harris would be leading everyone into the Sunset Room for soup, salad, then chicken. But he wasn't eating chicken now.

Nope, he was several beers into a road trip with Spike.

His friends weren't close, but he'd got the enemies closer part right. And Spike was an enemy. Hey, he just put the Tool station back on!

"So any destination in mind? Away's not a lot of guidance."

"As if you'd listen to me. Don't care, just not Oxnard." Oops, shouldn't have said that. Must have been the itty-bitty bottles of Wild Turkey. He could hear the sergeants in every war film saying "Don't volunteer information, grunts!" Shh, maybe Spike wouldn't notice?

"Not sure how far this bucket of bolts will get to. No interest in seeing family at the moment. How's about Reno?"

Spike hadn't mentioned Oxnard. Why hadn't he mentioned Oxnard? If he stopped thinking about Oxnard so would Spike. Xander felt his head bob back and forth. That made sense. Had to distract Spike.

"Why Reno?"

"Little less of a cliché than Vegas, isn't it? Or do you want them to think the worst of you?"

"But there's a casino off the strip with miniature farm animals. Little pygmy goats! Anya wanted to" His brain listened to his mouth for a moment. "Reno it is!"

Xander lifted the beer can to his lips then paused. He'd just agreed with Spike. Spike was being kinda helpful. Were they getting along?

"She likes miniatures, does she?" Spike glanced at Xander's lap and then smirked at him. "Well, that explains the attraction."

And back to the insults on his manliness. This was what he expected. This was why he'd said yes.

The beer can crinkled under his grip. Today was his wedding day. "Dum dum de dum," he hummed.

Today was about cakes and 'I do's and family and bunches of champagne. All that he had was the pain part. And most of that was Anya's. He'd messed this up bad. Amy love spell levels of bad. "You don't see any ladies chasing us, do you?"

Spike turned and Xander bent over until Spike was straight again. Why did Spike look confused, maybe his head was spinning too?

It was a big day. Months of planning big. Hell, if he'd spent as much time on school stuff he'd have got Willow's scholarships. Even apocalypses took less time.

"Big Day."

"That it is."

"Spike, were you getting married too?"

"You hold your liquor like Buffy. Did the Watcher never teach you how to drink?"

"Buffy. I built a chest for Buffy. A big chest, busty Buffy chest. Spent hours and hours on it. Good chest, didn't ask me about colors or food or chair covers. Anya didn't want naked chairs. Do you like naked chairs?"

"I'm fine with naked anything, mate."

"Anya had lists and lists and spread sheets and lists. Got a secret."

"Do you now?"

"Yup, built the chest to avoid more wedding stuff. Told Anya that we'd save money that way."

"You do know the way to the bird's heart, don't you Romeo?"

"Wasn't about money. Just wanted to see that I was doing something. Cuz the wedding lists kept getting bigger. Felt like they were tying me up with paper cuts. And I know about being tied up. Hey, didn't you tie me up?"

"Which time? No wait, don't think I bothered."

He pouted at Spike. That wasn't fair. "Why not? I need to be tied up."

Oh Spike was doing that neat Spock eyebrow trick. Xander raised a finger to his own eyebrow and concentrated. Nope his eyebrows wouldn't do it.

"Trying to lose an eye there? If you want to poke it out, you've missed."

"If I lose an eye, it's a sport. What was I saying? Oh ya. The chest made me happy. There was a start, and a finish and I could see when it was done. The stuff with Anya was never done." The wedding plans only lead to fights or long talks on the importance of the tiniest detail. "Candles floating in water, flowers, or still-beating hearts. Which would you prefer for a centerpiece, Xander?"

This wasn't what he wanted. Maybe Anya was right. Had he proposed because they were gonna to die? They'd been together a while; hell, they'd been to hell and back. He trusted her to be her. But marriage? Marriage he didn't trust. He took another sip of the beer, only to find the can was sipless. Nope, looking at his parent's example, he couldn't trust marriage. Or maybe he couldn't was himself.

And because of that he hurt his girl. He never wanted to hurt anyone, especially Anya.

"Think you missed if you didn't want to hurt her."

Xander felt his eyes open really, really wide. Could Spike read his mind?

"I'd say yes, but you're messed up enough as is. You've been talking, not thinking."

"Am thinking really thinking."

"Okay, I'll take the bait. What are you thinking?"

"Counties sure aren't putting their money into road repairs. This feels like the magic fingers. Back road suck."

"My vote was the 101N but someone got cold feet. Oops, guess the fact you're here proves that."

Xander took a deep breath. There was a reason. An important reason. "License, you don't have a license. And driving, this is like the first Mad Max films. So no--"

"--Ponch and Bobby. God, eating people was just easier."

Spike must have sensed his confusion.

"Ponch? CHiPs? Didn't you watch telly?"

"Chips. Wait. TV show? Had a lunch box with them on it. Was my cousin's first. The kids teased me about it. Willow didn't tease me."

"Jolly good for Red then." Spike took a drag of his cigarette then continued almost as an afterthought. "Named her your Best Man, didn't you?"

Xander hesitated; something was wrong. What was wrong with that question? That's right, whenever Spike got real casual he was usually being sneaky. Didn't matter. He might be a little tipsy, but he wasn't feeling no pain. Nope, this was about feeling all the pain. Wonder if Spike had new pain for him to feel?

"Yes." One word. That was good.

"Then isn't it her job to get you to the altar or to drive the get-away car? Or have you blown that relationship too? You lot keep doing this to each other, and you're not even blood."

He was going to regret this. He knew he was going to regret this. Maybe it was the little bottles of Wild Turkey talking but…

"Doing what?"

"Getting so self-centered you ignore the shared reality. It's how Adam almost got you and shall I list the current casualties? Bit's sticky fingers; I'm a mite proud that she never got caught in the nicking. Red's power surge. And Buffy's…Well the fact that you walked out of your big day - shouldn't one of them have notice before hand?"

Xander coughed as Spike blew some smoke in his direction.

"Was wondering something else, mate. If Red was your Best Man, was there lezzie porn at your bachelor party?"

That could have been ewwe-y—Hello Willow and sexy thoughts not that mixy—but he'd kinda hoped for the same thing. But Wills was busy with the non-magic thing and who'd have come any way? The guys from work? Spike? His Dad?

"Didn't have one." He dug into the Doug's Liquor Mart bag for another little bottle. Spike would tease him now. That's what Spike did.

Something strange happened. Or rather didn't happen. Or maybe the beer was being chased by the bourbon because that wasn't even making sense to him.

Spike said nothing.

Xander pulled out the bottle, unscrewed it, and took a swig. He waited for the shoe to drop. There should definitely be dropping shoes. He imagined a yellow diamond road sign, like the falling rocks sign, but with pumps and stilettos and flip-flops and god did he need to get more guy friends.

Something did happen. The radio got switched to a new country station.

That didn't feel like a shoe.

He squirmed in his seat. Sympathy was always awkward. Sympathy from Spike, annoying chipped SPIKE? Awkward wearing a pair of 3-D glasses.

Anya had talked about her and Spike bemoaning the whole ex-rampaging thing but he thought those discussions were more on the line of "my favorite massacres" than sympathy.

Still no shoe. He shouldn't get sympathy. "Spike I left her. Left her at, well near, the altar."

"So you said."

"Stop being nice. You're not nice. You're mean. You should be mean to me. You have to drive and pick on me. You always pick on me. Why aren't you punishing me?"

He didn't want nice. He didn't need nice. He didn't deserve nice. Spike would fix that, wouldn't he?