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Mar. 15th, 2005 04:29 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kat8chaTitle: Born in the Right Century
Pairing: Now that would be telling wouldn't it? ~giggle~ Spike/Xander predominant with slight Aus/X, Dru/X, Darla/X, Willow/X(UST) and other relationships yet to be decided.
Rating: Right now? PG-13. Later, er... maybe R/NC-17
Author's Notes: Well... I got this idea a while ago after reading a great S/X, Aus/W fic. And I decided to see what *I* could so to send the X-man back in time. I kinda liked how this turned out, but I warn you I really know nothing of the victorian age. Maybe I should have gotten it beta-d. Hmm... Anyways, I enjoyed writing this and there will be more.
“London grew into something huge and contradictory. It was a good place, and a fine city, but there is a price to be paid for all good places, and a price that all good places have to pay.” Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere.
Alexander let out a small sigh as he looked over the financial papers of one of his families estates. Cousin Unice was really making a nuisance of herself. Allowing himself one more sigh he straightened the papers on his desk and set about preparing to go home. As he locked up the office and left he allowed himself a small chuckle. His walk back to his flat was quiet and uneventful, and no one looked at him strangely. Oh if his Sunnydale friends could see him now.
Entering his flat he locked the door and then locked and bolted it as he stepped inside. It was funny, he thought, how easily a resident of the 90’s had adapted to living in the Victorian age. Except, that wasn’t completely true…
A few months ago Xander had done something very stupid. He had been verbally sparring with the chipped blond vampire and was losing spectacularly. When Spike made a comment about how he was born ‘decades too late’ to use that type of language in response to his colorful form of cussing Xander had lost it. Conveniently forgetting that he was living on the Hellmouth, dating an ex-vengeance demon (which none of the demon community seemed terribly happy about) and that bad things happened when you wished…
Xander had made a wish.
A big one.
“Sometimes I wish I was born in the right century!” And poof, he had ended up in the Victorian age, in England, and living the life of a gentleman. At first it had very difficult to get used to, he had two memories living in his head, one stating that he was Xander Harris of Sunnydale, CA and the other saying that he was ‘young mister Alexander Harris’ a young man who was rather estranged from his lavish family but helped manage their finances. Young Mr. Harris was an Oxford graduate, and had strangely enough graduated with a degree in literature. Young Mr. Harris occasionally submitted a piece of work to a newspaper or a magazine. He was a good story writer and a good journalist, though he hid his light under a bushel, like any proper lad. He was also single.
And very, very, bi-sexual.
This was where Xander of Sunnydale’s centuries later morals came into play. It made Alexander okay with his bi-sexuality (which had originally wigged Xander too) and allowed him to appreciate both men and women, though he would never approach one. He knew that he would eventually settle down with a young lady of his families chosing, but the though of a love-less match did not appeal to him any longer. Xander and Alexander had gradually melded together and allowed themselves to relax into their new lifestyle. Such as attending dinner parties, afternoon teas, and luncheons quite regularly not to mention paying calls upon ‘relatives’ and ‘acquaintances’. Changing out of his normal everyday clothes and into his formal attire Xander smiled at himself in the mirror. He was different from his Sunnydale self, his body leaner and trimmer. While at school Alexander had excelled at a number of rough sports but was now rather restricted in that area of exercise. He put the memories of exercise from the 20 century into good use to keep himself in shape. And if he did say so himself, Xande thought as he straightened his cravat, he looked quite fetching.
Xander was attending a dinner party tonight of one of his acquaintances, an older man called General Young. It was not specifically for his daughter, since she had already had her coming out, but now General Young was interested in introducing his daughter to members of London’s polite society. And Alexander was willing to oblige, he had met young Miss Young once she reminded him of Dawn.
Once Xander got to the party he fell into his usual talkative roll, mingling easily with the crowd. He spent a little time with Miss Young, but not enough to express interest, and spent time talking about politics with some other young men, and then went to the refreshments table to get a glass of punch. For some reason he flashed to Buffy preparing the refreshments for Parent Teacher Night. Shaking off his sudden melancholy Xander turned at the sound of laughter, and his breath caught in his throat.
Standing not to far away animatedly discussing the recent disappearances sweeping through London was William. William and he had attended Oxford together and Alexander’s mind was filled with memories of him and William spending time as friends. Or as close as friends Alexander could be with the shy boy, but there was nothing shy about William now. Not even the way his clear blue eyes gazed sultrily from under those honey brown curls.
Oh no, Alexander didn’t have a crush on William, not at all. He simply felt deep inescapable lust for the man’s body and a thirst for his companionship.
See? Not a crush.
But now Xander was making connections, swift connections between Sunnydale memories and this new sight and William. This William was his William and not, his body language was different, bolder, sexier and his eyes sparked with a flame that had hitherto been hidden. He was, William the Bloody. Xander stood there in shock, he had had a crush on Spike and had never known, but maybe… maybe this wasn’t Spike….
That hope was smashed as another familiar laugh was heard, or actually the voice laughing was familiar but that particular vampire had never laughed around Xander so he couldn’t be sure… Until he spotted Angelus talking to William, correcting the mistake of whatever he said. Angelus looked, happier then Angel and a hell of a lot saner then the version of Angelus Xander had met. He was smiling as he talked the William, and resting a congenial hand on the other man’s back as he turned to address the group.
Wait. That hand looked far too comfortable there.
Before Xander had time to think to hard about it General Young was there, sweeping him over to the other group and introducing him. “Mr. Harris and I are already acquainted.” William states, with a laugh in his voice and a twinkle in his eye. Xander winces but decides to play the game and escape as soon as possible. After all they didn’t know that he knew.
“Yes, Mr. Bradford and I attended Oxford together.” And everyone nods and the conversation flows onward. Xander shifts on his feet though, distinctly uncomfortable at the attention William is paying him, and at the intensity of Angelus’ eyes upon him. It makes him wildly glad that he decided to carry a cross and stake in his overcoat today. As soon as possible though Xander has excused himself and claiming exhaustion makes his leave.
In the coat room Alexander’s shoulders slump with relief. If Angelus and William were attending the party then Darla and Drusilla were no doubt somewhere nearby. All four of the scourge of Europe, all together in their hayday were not people that Xander wanted to run into. Especially Drusilla. She might be several kiwis short of a fruit salad but she saw things and that worried Xander. Picking his coat up he gave a smile to the attendant and prepared to pull it on.
“Allow me.” Said a cool voice and cool hands tugged his coat into place, effectively trapping his arms for a minute. “You will share our carriage, won’t you Alexandrite?” Xander closed his eyes as the memory flashed through him.
It was a form of poetry. William told him, late at night as they huddled together and talked after lights out. William had blushed as he’d told him that, and turned an especially appealing shade when he asked if he could please call Alexander that.
Xander knew that it was also a stone, a crystal, some sort of beryl and William agreed that yes it was. And that stone helped with regeneration of the mind and body and spirit, in a way that Xander had helped him and several of the others.
Xander had blushed and acquiesced.
At the time it had made Xander happy, William had a pet name for him. But now? Facing certain death at the hands of a vampiric William?
Not so cute.
“No thank you Mr. Bradshaw, I do not live that far away.” Xander stated coldly, and began to pull out of William’s hands, or was he already Spike?
“But Alexander…” Xander finally managed to pull away and give himself enough room to face William. His blue eyes glistened in his handsome face and the light from the candles transformed his curls into a halo.
Lucifer was an angel too, Xander reminds himself.
“No, Mr. Bradshaw. I am perfectly capable of getting home on my own. I do not wish your help and I do not encourage you to come calling. I will not invite you into my house.” This last part was said crystal clear and definite, and briefly Xander allowed himself a small smirk as William froze, unable to cope with someone knowing his secret. Unfortunately upon exiting the coatroom Xander runs straight into Darla and Drusilla. Falling back a few steps he blinks and manages somehow to avoid Drusilla’s deep brown eyes, and Darla’s deep white cleavage. “Sorry Madames. I was not watching where I was going.” A tip of the hat and Xander prepares to move around them. Drusilla halts him though, stepping into his path and reaching up her hand to touch his face. It’s quite improper behavior and besides Xander really doesn’t want a crazy woman who called him her ‘kitten’ touching him. Giving another brusque apology he steps around Drusilla and out.
Drusilla giggled to herself as she watched the world waver, all the pretty colors and dancers all swimming at once. “The jack ate all the tarts.” She whispered to Darla as she watched the party, particularly her sweet William, who seemed focused on talking to a young man while Angelus rested a hand possessively on his back. Darla nodded semi-absently and continued her conversation with one of the women of society. All four of them had already fed, leaving corpses in places where they would not be discovered till morn. Drusilla giggled again as the colors swam around he kitten that was running from her William. The kitten could run, but William wasn’t a kitten anymore, he was a big mean tom. Kitten would learn that later. Dru decided and she and Darla caught Angelus’ motion to leave. William had already disappeared, trying to hunt his kittycat. But he’d need the whole family to do that. Mummy and Daddy and Dru and her William. Drusilla stepped up to face the kitten, touching him and watching the burning fishes that swam around him. Too many, and not enough at the same time. Kitten was a twisted mess of memory and forgetfulness, with cruel mad animal laughter and a deep mean barking voice and books and tea and fights and blood and death and calm and quiet and kind and hugs and love and soft sweet laughter and hungry kisses. Kitten was running away now and Drusilla could feel her Daddy and her William behind her.
“He is one for us. Kitten will knit us together as closely as mittens and then kitten will lose us. Daddy, we must have him. All of us.”
Pairing: Now that would be telling wouldn't it? ~giggle~ Spike/Xander predominant with slight Aus/X, Dru/X, Darla/X, Willow/X(UST) and other relationships yet to be decided.
Rating: Right now? PG-13. Later, er... maybe R/NC-17
Author's Notes: Well... I got this idea a while ago after reading a great S/X, Aus/W fic. And I decided to see what *I* could so to send the X-man back in time. I kinda liked how this turned out, but I warn you I really know nothing of the victorian age. Maybe I should have gotten it beta-d. Hmm... Anyways, I enjoyed writing this and there will be more.
“London grew into something huge and contradictory. It was a good place, and a fine city, but there is a price to be paid for all good places, and a price that all good places have to pay.” Neil Gaiman, Neverwhere.
Alexander let out a small sigh as he looked over the financial papers of one of his families estates. Cousin Unice was really making a nuisance of herself. Allowing himself one more sigh he straightened the papers on his desk and set about preparing to go home. As he locked up the office and left he allowed himself a small chuckle. His walk back to his flat was quiet and uneventful, and no one looked at him strangely. Oh if his Sunnydale friends could see him now.
Entering his flat he locked the door and then locked and bolted it as he stepped inside. It was funny, he thought, how easily a resident of the 90’s had adapted to living in the Victorian age. Except, that wasn’t completely true…
A few months ago Xander had done something very stupid. He had been verbally sparring with the chipped blond vampire and was losing spectacularly. When Spike made a comment about how he was born ‘decades too late’ to use that type of language in response to his colorful form of cussing Xander had lost it. Conveniently forgetting that he was living on the Hellmouth, dating an ex-vengeance demon (which none of the demon community seemed terribly happy about) and that bad things happened when you wished…
Xander had made a wish.
A big one.
“Sometimes I wish I was born in the right century!” And poof, he had ended up in the Victorian age, in England, and living the life of a gentleman. At first it had very difficult to get used to, he had two memories living in his head, one stating that he was Xander Harris of Sunnydale, CA and the other saying that he was ‘young mister Alexander Harris’ a young man who was rather estranged from his lavish family but helped manage their finances. Young Mr. Harris was an Oxford graduate, and had strangely enough graduated with a degree in literature. Young Mr. Harris occasionally submitted a piece of work to a newspaper or a magazine. He was a good story writer and a good journalist, though he hid his light under a bushel, like any proper lad. He was also single.
And very, very, bi-sexual.
This was where Xander of Sunnydale’s centuries later morals came into play. It made Alexander okay with his bi-sexuality (which had originally wigged Xander too) and allowed him to appreciate both men and women, though he would never approach one. He knew that he would eventually settle down with a young lady of his families chosing, but the though of a love-less match did not appeal to him any longer. Xander and Alexander had gradually melded together and allowed themselves to relax into their new lifestyle. Such as attending dinner parties, afternoon teas, and luncheons quite regularly not to mention paying calls upon ‘relatives’ and ‘acquaintances’. Changing out of his normal everyday clothes and into his formal attire Xander smiled at himself in the mirror. He was different from his Sunnydale self, his body leaner and trimmer. While at school Alexander had excelled at a number of rough sports but was now rather restricted in that area of exercise. He put the memories of exercise from the 20 century into good use to keep himself in shape. And if he did say so himself, Xande thought as he straightened his cravat, he looked quite fetching.
Xander was attending a dinner party tonight of one of his acquaintances, an older man called General Young. It was not specifically for his daughter, since she had already had her coming out, but now General Young was interested in introducing his daughter to members of London’s polite society. And Alexander was willing to oblige, he had met young Miss Young once she reminded him of Dawn.
Once Xander got to the party he fell into his usual talkative roll, mingling easily with the crowd. He spent a little time with Miss Young, but not enough to express interest, and spent time talking about politics with some other young men, and then went to the refreshments table to get a glass of punch. For some reason he flashed to Buffy preparing the refreshments for Parent Teacher Night. Shaking off his sudden melancholy Xander turned at the sound of laughter, and his breath caught in his throat.
Standing not to far away animatedly discussing the recent disappearances sweeping through London was William. William and he had attended Oxford together and Alexander’s mind was filled with memories of him and William spending time as friends. Or as close as friends Alexander could be with the shy boy, but there was nothing shy about William now. Not even the way his clear blue eyes gazed sultrily from under those honey brown curls.
Oh no, Alexander didn’t have a crush on William, not at all. He simply felt deep inescapable lust for the man’s body and a thirst for his companionship.
See? Not a crush.
But now Xander was making connections, swift connections between Sunnydale memories and this new sight and William. This William was his William and not, his body language was different, bolder, sexier and his eyes sparked with a flame that had hitherto been hidden. He was, William the Bloody. Xander stood there in shock, he had had a crush on Spike and had never known, but maybe… maybe this wasn’t Spike….
That hope was smashed as another familiar laugh was heard, or actually the voice laughing was familiar but that particular vampire had never laughed around Xander so he couldn’t be sure… Until he spotted Angelus talking to William, correcting the mistake of whatever he said. Angelus looked, happier then Angel and a hell of a lot saner then the version of Angelus Xander had met. He was smiling as he talked the William, and resting a congenial hand on the other man’s back as he turned to address the group.
Wait. That hand looked far too comfortable there.
Before Xander had time to think to hard about it General Young was there, sweeping him over to the other group and introducing him. “Mr. Harris and I are already acquainted.” William states, with a laugh in his voice and a twinkle in his eye. Xander winces but decides to play the game and escape as soon as possible. After all they didn’t know that he knew.
“Yes, Mr. Bradford and I attended Oxford together.” And everyone nods and the conversation flows onward. Xander shifts on his feet though, distinctly uncomfortable at the attention William is paying him, and at the intensity of Angelus’ eyes upon him. It makes him wildly glad that he decided to carry a cross and stake in his overcoat today. As soon as possible though Xander has excused himself and claiming exhaustion makes his leave.
In the coat room Alexander’s shoulders slump with relief. If Angelus and William were attending the party then Darla and Drusilla were no doubt somewhere nearby. All four of the scourge of Europe, all together in their hayday were not people that Xander wanted to run into. Especially Drusilla. She might be several kiwis short of a fruit salad but she saw things and that worried Xander. Picking his coat up he gave a smile to the attendant and prepared to pull it on.
“Allow me.” Said a cool voice and cool hands tugged his coat into place, effectively trapping his arms for a minute. “You will share our carriage, won’t you Alexandrite?” Xander closed his eyes as the memory flashed through him.
It was a form of poetry. William told him, late at night as they huddled together and talked after lights out. William had blushed as he’d told him that, and turned an especially appealing shade when he asked if he could please call Alexander that.
Xander knew that it was also a stone, a crystal, some sort of beryl and William agreed that yes it was. And that stone helped with regeneration of the mind and body and spirit, in a way that Xander had helped him and several of the others.
Xander had blushed and acquiesced.
At the time it had made Xander happy, William had a pet name for him. But now? Facing certain death at the hands of a vampiric William?
Not so cute.
“No thank you Mr. Bradshaw, I do not live that far away.” Xander stated coldly, and began to pull out of William’s hands, or was he already Spike?
“But Alexander…” Xander finally managed to pull away and give himself enough room to face William. His blue eyes glistened in his handsome face and the light from the candles transformed his curls into a halo.
Lucifer was an angel too, Xander reminds himself.
“No, Mr. Bradshaw. I am perfectly capable of getting home on my own. I do not wish your help and I do not encourage you to come calling. I will not invite you into my house.” This last part was said crystal clear and definite, and briefly Xander allowed himself a small smirk as William froze, unable to cope with someone knowing his secret. Unfortunately upon exiting the coatroom Xander runs straight into Darla and Drusilla. Falling back a few steps he blinks and manages somehow to avoid Drusilla’s deep brown eyes, and Darla’s deep white cleavage. “Sorry Madames. I was not watching where I was going.” A tip of the hat and Xander prepares to move around them. Drusilla halts him though, stepping into his path and reaching up her hand to touch his face. It’s quite improper behavior and besides Xander really doesn’t want a crazy woman who called him her ‘kitten’ touching him. Giving another brusque apology he steps around Drusilla and out.
Drusilla giggled to herself as she watched the world waver, all the pretty colors and dancers all swimming at once. “The jack ate all the tarts.” She whispered to Darla as she watched the party, particularly her sweet William, who seemed focused on talking to a young man while Angelus rested a hand possessively on his back. Darla nodded semi-absently and continued her conversation with one of the women of society. All four of them had already fed, leaving corpses in places where they would not be discovered till morn. Drusilla giggled again as the colors swam around he kitten that was running from her William. The kitten could run, but William wasn’t a kitten anymore, he was a big mean tom. Kitten would learn that later. Dru decided and she and Darla caught Angelus’ motion to leave. William had already disappeared, trying to hunt his kittycat. But he’d need the whole family to do that. Mummy and Daddy and Dru and her William. Drusilla stepped up to face the kitten, touching him and watching the burning fishes that swam around him. Too many, and not enough at the same time. Kitten was a twisted mess of memory and forgetfulness, with cruel mad animal laughter and a deep mean barking voice and books and tea and fights and blood and death and calm and quiet and kind and hugs and love and soft sweet laughter and hungry kisses. Kitten was running away now and Drusilla could feel her Daddy and her William behind her.
“He is one for us. Kitten will knit us together as closely as mittens and then kitten will lose us. Daddy, we must have him. All of us.”
