Backfire - Spander Files

Suddenly the grip on Xander’s neck was loosened, and he was able to gulp in two
huge swallows of air before the hand closed down, sealing his windpipe again.
Angel glanced at Xander before turning back to Spike.
“Can’t let him die that quickly. After all, I do owe this boy a bit of gratitude. Did
you know I would never have gotten into dear Buffy’s pants if it hadn’t been for
your boy here? I gotta admit, not even close to the best lay I ever had, but I suppose
it was enough for soul-boy. If I’d known the trick to losing that pesky curse before,
then I wouldn’t have had to put up with myself for the last hundred years.”
The hand was gone and Xander quickly replaced it with his own, trying to rub the
pain away and breathe in as much oxygen as possible just in case he was deprived
of it again soon.
Spike finally stopped thrashing and looked to be thinking hard, which was a new
look for Spike.
“Angelus, if you want to tango with me, then leave the boy out of this. He’s dead
weight.”
Angel laughed hard. A laugh that Xander had never heard before and made all his
hair stick up.
“You’ve got to work on your negotiation skills, Spikey. Besides, this isn’t about
you. It’s never been about you. You’re the dead weight here. I’d off you both here
and now, but I’ve been buried way too long. I have some things to make up for.
Plus, like I said, I owe the boy.”
“Hey! Evil dead guys! ‘The boy’ is sitting right here! Angel, what the hell are you
trying to prove?” Xander’s answer came in the form of another punch to the face.
He felt something split this time and warm blood trickled down his cheek.
Having had enough of this, Xander scrambled down the bed, intending to hop off,
find his clothes and get the fuck away from the feuding vampires. That was his
intention. He didn’t get far.