Looking back, much later, Xander knew that finding the beginning of his descent into his current vida loco could have been when he kept skipping classes---even before he became a Scooby; how he didn't study for the PSAT and how he never thought about going to college, because, gah, more classes and more boredom; how his parents, exasperated at his lack of a Life Plan, tried to make him pay rent, and then decided to give him autonomy by renting him the basement; how Xander rebuffed Mom's offer to give him his bedroom furniture, and how he bought stuff at tag sales and fished other things out of dumpsters, in company with a fangless bleach-headed vampire; but it was buying the damned table lamp that really turned out to be banana skin on the floor, the missing rung on the ladder, the whatever that madeyou fall down on your head and wake up with your life completely different and kinda bruised.

" How much for the lamp?" Xander asked the woman. The shade was a faded world map print, and the brass wasn't polished, but it was tall enough to go on the side table beside the sofa. He hadn't gotten up early enough to score the really good stuff; that's what happened when you stayed up watching "Mystery Science Theatre 3000" with vampires.

The woman was packing up a set of tomato-stained Tupperware, and she glanced up. "Ten." She looked more than ready to come in from the chill of early winter, and her tables were almost empty.

Xander blinked. He was the only one there. "Five," he said.

"Seven-fifty and I'll give you a lightbulb and this Tupperware."

"Okay," Xander said.

When he got back to the basement, Spike was watching television and drinking juice from a box. The dryer was going, and everything in the basement smelled April-fresh, including, Xander suspected, Spike.

"Your mum was down," Spike said. "Brought me a juice. What's this crap you've bought?" He sucked the last juice through the straw with a loud,echoing slurp.

"My Mom is a sucker for a British accent," Xander said, setting the lamp on the table. He had the creeping suspicion that Spike was doing his Giles-imitation-voice on Mom, because neither she nor Tony had said anything about Xander's friend. Which could mean that Tony hadn't noticed anything, of course, or had decided that Spike was just another in the line of Your Weird School Friends. So there was Spike, turning on the accent and, Xander suspected, actually carrying baskets of laundry up and down the stairs as part of his fiendish vampire wiles.

"Tarnished," was all Spike said. So Xander grabbed a tee-shirt and swiped at the brass, and suddenly a cloud of spicy smoke was all around them. Xander eeped, and he and Spike clutched each other.

"Masters," said a voice. "I am yours to command."

"Oh, crap, " Xander said.

Second part of Xander and the Magic Lamp

" This never ends well," Xander said gloomily.

"Tell me about it," Spike replied.

They were sitting on the couch, staring at the slight woman walking around the basement, picking up comic books and cola cans and peering at them, setting them back down. She wasn't dressed like Barbara Eden, but she was wearing something that looked kind of silky and changeable like some kind of Star Trek material.

It made Xander nervous.

"Genies," he said. "What next?"

"A djinn," said the woman. "Technically."

"Technically?" Spike repeated. "You must have been out o' that lamp pretty recently."

"Well, yes. Things didn't work out for my last Master, and this poor slave of the lamp was returned at his untimely death." She opened the refrigerator. "Can I have a Coke?"

"Sure," Xander said. In an undervoice, he said, "Untimely death? Things never work out with magic lamps. I've seen enough X-Files to know that."

"Djinns," Spike said scornfully. "I could've told you. Every one knows that. They're made of smokeless fire, they're evil." His face creased in a smile. "An' evil, so you should let me handle her."

"You're a vampire," the Djinn said, closing the mini-fridge, and popping the top of a Coke. "I saw the blood. Why are you in this basement with him?"

"I got a chip in my head," Spike scowled. "Hey, that can be my first wish. Put me back the way I was," he said.

"That is your first wish, O Master?" the Djinn asked formally.

"Spike, no---" Xander began, sitting up.

"Yeah," Spike said.

"Granted," the Djinn said.

Spike smiled, pleased, for a moment. Then he said, "Hey," uneasily, putting a hand on his chest, and Xander saw his face have a tinge of human color. That is, before it wrinkled, shrivelled, and Spike collapsed in a pile of dust.

Xander sighed. "Please reverse his wish," he said.

"As you wish," the Djinn said.

"Yes," Xander said.

The dust rose, swirled, and Spike sat on the cement floor, blinking. "Fuck me," he coughed. "That was unpleasant."

"So I may be right once in a while?" Xander asked. "No wishes. We don't wish for anything. You heard what she said, her former master." He held out his hand for Spike to take, and pulled him up.

The Djinn sat down in the orange chair, smirking. "I can only grant exactly what you wish. You said to put you back as you were."

"Djinns create mischief to torment humans," Spike said. "Why torment me?"

"It's the nature of the wish," the Djinn said. "Doesn't matter who's doing the wishing."

"Okay, then, pop back in the lamp."

"It doesn't work like that," the Djinn said. "You released me from the lamp and I am your obedient slave, and---"

"So are all the Slaves within the Lamp," Spike muttered. "Yeah. Why are you in an electric lamp instead of an oil lamp?"

"Why do you microwave your blood instead of drinking it on the hoof? You have to move with the times." She found the remote and turned on the television.

Under the cover of the sounds of Jerry Springer, Xander and Spike both moved to the bathroom side of the basement.

"I'll tell you what," Xander said suddenly, "we can't let Anya find her in here." The Djinn was leaning forward, chortling at the onscreen couple screaming at each other.

"Huh. Demon girl'll be back in business, won't she? Back pulling spleens out of men's noses in no time at all. She mad at you, by the way?"

Xander started. "I wasn't even there yet. I was just thinking how jealous she is."

"They probably know each other," Spike muttered.

"Can I have a McDonald's hamburger?" the Djinn called.

"Don't have one here, vamps ate the second shift and they packed up," Xander said. He glared at Spike.

"Before my time," Spike said. "There was just Jack-in-the-Box when I got here."

"Can I have a cheeseburger and fries, then?" She twisted in the chair, looking over her shoulder at them. "You could wish for it, and I would have to provide you with anything you wished to eat."

"No," Xander said. "I'll go get it." And go see Giles, he thought, and tried to give Spike a meaningful look.

"I'll stay here," Spike said. "Too light out, anyway."

Giles wasn't at home, his little car was gone, and Buffy and Willow weren't in their dorm room. Willow was probably studying in the library, and Buffy out with Riley. Reluctantly, Xander drove to and through the Jack-in-the-Box, and brought enough food for himself, as well.

When he opened the basement door, he was confronted by a large, snarling tiger. "Reverse it," Xander yelled. He could feel a migraine coming on.

"As you wish," came the Djinn's voice. He couldn't see her, but she sounded sulky. The tiger's growl turned into Spike muttering, "Bloody hell," from all fours on the floor.

"Stop wishing," Xander said, wearily. "You're a hundred years older than me and you've been watching Twilight Zone since it premiered. Why are you the one making the wishes?"

"Why are you the one reversing them?" the Djinn asked.

Xander rolled his eyes. "I don't want a tiger down here." He held out the paper bags. "Cheeseburgers."

Spike stood up. "Watcher say anything?"

"Not home."

"Hell. We've got to do something, Harris, or you and I are gonna have a sticky end."

"We? You're---" Xander saw the Djinn look up, her red pink tongue swiping catsup from the corner of her mouth. She looked straight at Xander, as she sucked another french fry between pursed lips.

The basement felt very hot.

"She's got to go," he said hoarsely.

They were afraid to take her with them to look for Giles, and they were afraid to leave her alone. She couldn't be alone with either one of them, they were in unspoken agreement about that. Xander didn't want to risk being turned into a spotted owl or some such.

"Saturday night television still sucks," the Djinn sighed. "Can we rent a movie?"

"I owe too much in late fees," Xander said. "See if there's any videos down there you want to watch."

She bent down, her neckline gaping. Spike shifted his position on the couch, as if he was going to stand up.

"I'll stake you if you try to leave me alone," Xander muttered.

"Git," Spike muttered back, but subsided.

Which is how they ended up both sleeping on the sofa bed.

"I could get in there with you," the Djinn offered. "Masters."

Xander shuddered, tossing the pillows against the sofa.

"Is that what you sleep on?" she asked. "I could get you the most comfortable mattress in the world."

Spike came out of the bathroom, smelling of Xander's toothpaste, and shirtless. "I've slept on crypts," he said shortly. "Harris' bed is fine."

"I'm just trying to foresee your needs," the Djinn said.

"You watch TV," Xander said, unlacing his shoes. "We have no needs." Still in his jeans and tee-shirt, he switched off the gooseneck lamp,
before stretching out on the mattress.

Beside him, Spike gave his snort of laughter. "Huh. You never even plugged in the fuckin' lamp."

"Everyone has needs," the Djinn said sullenly, but she turned back to the blue square of the television.

Xander had just managed to forget that he was in bed with a vampire, and was drifting off, when the light feminine voice said, "Maybe you two are too happy together to have any other needs."

He sat up, but felt a cool hand on his elbow. Glancing over, he saw Spike give the tiniest shake of his head, so Xander lay back down.

Happy together? Twelve hours earlier, he was just buying a lamp.

So he could read his graphic novels.

With Spike.

He was so doomed.

Xander and the Magic Lamp, part 3

Xander and Spike (under a singed blanket) took the Djinn and the lamp to see Giles, the next morning.

"He won't see me," said the Djinn, in the sing-song that Xander already hated.

"I. Don't. Care," Xander said.

She was right. Giles didn't see her.

"I see a brass lamp with an unfortunate shade," Giles said. "And you two, telling me that there's a genie--"

"A Djinn," she said, walking around the room.

"A Djinn," Xander said. "Look, Giles, both Spike and I agree on this. When have you known us to co-operate on anything, ever?"

Giles raised his eyebrows. "I've seen you two put away pitchers of beer and plates of onion rings, but point taken."

"Spike keeps making wishes and they turn out badly," Xander said.

"You have to be clear," the Djinn said.

"She says we're not being clear."

"Ask her what she wants," Giles said, walking straight towards her to his bookcase. She moved out of the way, just as it seem he would walk through her.

"She can hear you, you know," Spike said. He walked around the counter and into Giles' kitchen. Xander heard the refrigerator door open.

"Um, yes. Spike, get out of my kitchen." Giles selected a book with heavy marbled covers and began paging through it.

Xander looked at the Djinn. She shrugged. "No, really, what do you want?" he asked. "We're not gonna wish, so what else?"

"She may want you and Spike to perform a service," Giles said, not looking up from the book.

The Djinn put her finger on her nose, and grinned.

"That's what she wants," Spike said. He slumped down in the recliner.

"Yes," she said, sitting on the arm on the chair. "I need you to perform a task for me."

Xander sat on the sofa. "She's saying she wants us to perform a task for her."

Giles leaned his elbow on the bookcase. "Hm. Probably something mystical that she can't do for herself. It would be something that would release her from her, er, lamp."

"He's pretty smart," the Djinn said, ruffling Spike's hair.

"Hey!"

Giles blinked, and took off his glasses. "I see your hair." He put the book up. "It is, unfortunately, quite well documented that Djinns torment---"

"Thank you," Spike sighed.

"---humans," Giles said, "by granting wishes. These wishes tend not to be exactly as expected by the wisher. The Djinn has to grant a certain amount of wishes, or find someone to perform the task, to be released from the lamp. Once released, they become completely corporeal, and live a natural life."

"It's going to be something horrible, isn't it?" Xander asked, resigned.
" Something horrible. Dangerous."

"Which is why you're lucky you have the vampire," the Djinn said brightly. "He won't get hurt."

"Bloody hell," Spike said.

Giles looked a question at Xander.

"She says I'm lucky I have Spike because he won't get hurt." Xander sighed. "So I'm gonna get hurt?" he asked the Djinn.

"Not necessarily." She trailed a fingernail along Spike's ear, and he looked as though he wanted to shudder and was stifling the urge in the name of still-evil vampire-ness.

"Right, then. Tell us what to do, and we'll do it," Spike said. He straightened up. "This---task---better involve kickin' demon ass, girlie girl, or we're out of luck. I have a piece o' government technology in my head that'll stop this plan right now, if you expect me to hurt any humans."

"Or me," Xander said, alarmed. "Being human, myself."

"Another Djinn," she said. "The one who put me in here."

"Djinns are capable of being good or evil," Giles said, reading. "They can marry humans. There are greater or lesser djinns. They have tribes, and have kings and queens, djinn.It's where we get the word genie."

"Yeah, that set us back a century or so," the Djinn said, rolling her eyes. "That damn television show. For years, afterward, all the men wanted to see if we had belly buttons. But he's right about the greater one. The one that put me in here, was a shaitan, a devil. He lives up in the hills above Los Angeles." She looked around. "Hey, by the way, where are we at? I'm still in California, right?"

"Shaitan, she says," Xander said. "What's that."

Spike and Giles exchanged glances. "A powerful demon," Spike said. "Right. We'll go, but I'm not letting Peaches know I'm there. He's probably still pissed off about that whole torturin' thing."

"Yes," Giles said at his driest. "I know the feeling."

Title: Xander and the Magic Lamp, part last
Author: Tesla
Genre: AU

Thanks to [info]dessert_first for invaluable brain-storming
this morning!
The earlier parts are here: http://www.livejournal.com/tools/memories.bml?user=tesla321&keyword=Xander+and+the+Magic+Lamp&filter=all

On the way to Los Angeles, the Djinn had gotten bored and had tried, a little belatedly, to flirt with Xander and Spike. Spike was driving like he did everything, casual, careless, frightening to mere mortals. The Djinn tried to get Xander interested by tickling his neck with her long fingernails, but he said, "Hey!" and slapped at her hand.

She switched to Spike. "I could massage your shoulders while you drive," she offered.

"Yeah, sure," Spike said. Looking sideways at Xander, he said, not quite sotto voce, "Wouldn't mind shaggin' her."

Xander thought about it and shook his head. She was gorgeous, true, something that you could think about in the shower in the morning, not that he would, but, no.

Spike, on the other hand, casually adjusted his jeans.

Xander snorted.

On the way back, racing against the sun, the mood was gloomier. The front window of the car had been completely blown out, and they were covered in
demon blood. Not the Djinn, of course. She had prudently ducked away when Spike charged after the Shaitan.

Xander was so bruised that he didn't want to move, and Spike was pretty battered, himself. The Djinn, however---

"I thought that once we killed the Shaitan, you were released," Xander began, looking uneasily at the eastern sky.

"True," the Djinn said.

"And yet, you're still here," Spike said bitterly. "Can you stop the sunrise?"

"Hm. No."

Spike pulled off the highway. "Then we have to stop," he said. "Who has money?" he asked. At the blank stares, he swore. "I wish---"

"No!" Xander said. "She'll whammy you!"

"I have to give you a genuine wish, no tricks," the Djinn said. "Then, I'll go."

"Fine," Xander said. With difficulty, he reached in his pockets and pulled out a wad of crumpled bills and some change. In the parking lot of the motel, Spike got out of the car and dug one-dollar bills out of his pockets and boots. They had enough for one room, and the Djinn had to go get it, since she was the only one not covered in disgusting substances.

Xander was so stiff that he could barely walk. Even in the bathroom, he could barely take off his shirt. He held up his right hand, and saw, dispassionately, that his fingers were cut and swollen. "Must have been that porcupine thing he threw at us," Xander said to Spike, who had followed him in the bathroom.

"Nah," Spike said, kindly. "It was when you made that tackle to his knees. You weren't to know that he was double-jointed and had prickles."

Xander leaned wearily against the sink and put his hands under the tap. He was aware of Spike yanking off his shirt. He was still talking, in that happy tone he always got after killing something.

"You're getting smart in your old age, Harris, bringin' fresh clothes."

"We always get covered in guts and shit," Xander said. He subsided onto the closed lid of the toilet, his aching hands curled palm up on his knees.

Spike washed his hands and face and torso with much lathering with the tiny bar of soap. He stood over Xander, toweling off, and frowned down at him. "Well? Get your jeans off and wash up."

"In a minute," Xander said wearily. He tried making a fist, and winced.

"Oh, bloody hell," Spike muttered, and bent over Xander, unfastening
Xander's belt and popping the button of his jeans before Xander could
protest. But oddly, he didn't even feel like protesting, as Spike knelt and unlaced his Adidas and pulled them and his socks off, or even when, with that stealthy vamp mojo, Spike got Xander's clothes off.

Spike turned on the water, and then helped Xander step into the tub, and pulled the shower curtain closed. With one part of his mind Xander reflected that Spike probably spent years nursing Drusilla, with the other, he wondered why he didn't mind being in the shower with all of the nakedness, and the vampireness, and the nakedness.

"Thanks," Xander said, leaning against the wall. Everything hurt.

Through the water spray, he saw Spike's blue eyes narrow. "You need to watch it, Harris. You've been throwin' yourself into fights with demons an' beasts an' vampires as long as I've been in California. An' you're always gettin' beat up. You aren't a Slayer and you aren't a witch, you're just a kid."

"Thanks, again," Xander murmured. It seemed rude to argue, especially as Spike was gently running a washcloth over his forearms. Spike draped the washcloth on Xander's shoulder, and began probing his scalp with careful fingers. "Ouch."

"Bump," Spike said. His hands were in Xander's hair, and they stared into each other's eyes for a long moment. "I wish---" Spike said softly.

There was a banging on the door. "Hey! I want a Coke."

Xander shivered suddenly. "Don't wish," he said.

The Djinn was bored, and took some quarters to go play video games. Spike locked the door behind her, and shut the blinds and curtains against the morning light. That was the last thing Xander remembered clearly. As he slept the day away, he heard the door open, and then the television start up. His hands felt hot and itchy, and then, he discovered that the cool skin of Spike's back made them feel better.

The next thing Xander knew, the Djinn was standing over them, saying, "It's getting dark," and Spike was sitting up, lighting a cigarette.

The night air cleared Xander's head. "So, do you have to give us a real wish, before we can get rid of you?" he asked. He was in the back seat, feet propped up. He kept flexing his fingers, trying to get them to work. Work. He wasn't looking forward to losing another job, explaining to Tony and Jessica why he didn't have rent money. His mouth tasted sour. That was the way Xander's adventures always went, he thought. He got the snot beat out of him, and had to sleep with the vampire.

"---heart's desire," the Djinn was saying, in an oddly muted voice.

"The heart?" Spike said scornfully. "No one knows what's in his own heart, let alone what it desires. Kind of an impossible thing, there."

"What about you?" the Djinn said, twisting around to look at Xander. "What's the wish of your heart? True love?"

Stung, Xander said, "Hell, you already said you couldn't stop time. Can't change the past, can you? If I had a wish, I suppose I'd wish that my parents
could halfway give a rat's ass about me or what happens to me, but that hasn't been for years." He looked up into the empty rear view mirror, knowing that Spike could see him.

Spike glanced over the headrest at Xander. "What's wrong with true love? 'S a good thing to wish for."

Xander hunched one shoulder. "It's about as realistic as wanting---" he stopped himself.

They were on the outskirts of Sunnydale. "I wish you'd leave," Xander aid. "I wish I'd never bought that lamp."

"Too late," the Djinn said enigmatically. "Pull over, though, and I'll get out."

Spike pulled the car over to the sidewalk. "Right, then," he said briskly.

The Djinn got out, and touched her fingers to her forehead and her lips. Xander just stared at her. "It was that easy? To wish you'd leave?"

"Oh, that's not your heart's desire, Alexander Lavelle Harris," the Djinn smiled. "Or yours, William--" Spike started the car and drove away.

"I don't get to know your full name?" Xander asked. "Fine."

"Stupid name," Spike said.

"More stupid than Lavelle ?"

"Yes."

But things were immediately better, because Spike swung by the Kwiky Mart and bought cold beer, and blood, and then drove them straight back to the
basement, where Xander had left nearly a whole pizza in the refrigerator. At the back of his mind was the nagging idea that the basement was a little different, but he looked around. Same bed, same sofa, same Playstation and television; same partitions between the laundry room and the basement apartment. Same kitchenette, and microwave.

"The lamp's gone," Xander said, finally. "The brass lamp."

"Huh," Spike said, looking around. "Guess it disintegrated or something when she was freed." He picked up the remote.

Things were back to normal, Xander thought, getting ice from the freezer for his hand.

But no, he was already skate-boarding down the slippery slope, they
were going down it, because the next thing he knew, he had fallen asleep on the sofa with his head on Spike's shoulder. And then, Spike was guiding him to bed, with the television off, and Xander reached out and said, "Sleep here."

After a heart-stopping moment, Spike shed his clothes and slid into bed with Xander, all awkward elbows and knees, but then they settled down together. "We're cuddling," Xander murmured.

"Yeah," Spike said. Then, with mock aggression, "You got a problem with that?"

"No," Xander said, and gave in to an urge he'd had for days or weeks, hell, months, and tilted his head for a kiss.

And so it went. The next thing he knew, Tony had got Xander a job with with a contractor, and Spike was bartending at Willy's, and Jessica had started dragging them with her to the Mall on Tuesday nights for the express purpose of being able to introduce them as "my son, Xander, and his Life Partner, Spike." Then there was the new apartment, and the coming out to the other
Scoobies that was greeted with deflating non-interest.

"Really?" Giles had asked drily. "What a complete surprise. Now, can we get back to the research?" And Buffy saying, tragically, "Am I the only straight one in the gang? Oh, I wasn't counting you, Giles!" and Spike muttering, "I was," in Xander's ear, and Willow talking about their mothers being able to go to PFLAG meetings together, and Tara smiling at them over the round research table.

Xander was secretly, miserly happy. Sometimes he couldn't believe his luck, the stupid luck of buying a lamp with a genie that didn't kill him, didn't do any of the standard Hellmouth evil things, the stupid luck of Spike not getting staked, and getting a chip, before he came to live with Xander. Xander, who always hated vampires, still hated Angel, still hated all other vampires except the one who was critically studying the string of chili lights Xander had strung up in the living room.

"I'm a demon magnet," Xander said. "That's what it is."

"Damn your sinister attraction," Spike said absently. Xander knew he'd been watching "Changing Rooms" again, because he was starting to use his posh Laurence Llewellyn-Bowen voice.

That's how I got stuck with a vampire for a Life Partner, Xander thought, and opened his mouth to say it, when Spike turned away from the wall and saw Xander studying him. Spike broke into a smile so ingenious and brilliant, and damn it, sweet, that Xander's impulse to tease died away.

"Were you gonna say something?" Spike asked, tilting his head.

"No," Xander said. He put his arms around Spike, and sighed, contentedly.
" I guess the chili lights are a mistake, but I always kinda wanted a Southwestern thing."

"Xander, all your taste is in your mouth," Spike said, and kissed him.

Life, Xander thought, was pretty good.