Fiction by Lorraine
Rating: NC-17
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Disclaimers: The Buffyverse and all its characters belong to Joss Whedon & co. The story is mine.
Summary: Set immediately after the Ats ep "Damage." Xander finds out Spike is alive and comes to L. A. to see for himself.
Beta: kitty_poker1 Thanks so much!!!!!
“Xander, it’s Spike. Ummmm…..right. I’m at Wolfram and Hart. There’s something here you’ve really gotta see.”
Xander put down the phone. He’d accidentally left his cell in the hotel room while he stepped out for Mexican food. Spike had left him that voicemail just minutes before he’d returned. So far, Xander had listened to the message eight times. He thought he detected
something, some emotion, in Spike’s voice, but he wasn’t sure just what. The message ended puzzlingly with what could either be interpreted as a horrible coughing fit or the death throes of a strangling man.
Xander shrugged. Guess I’m going to Wolfram and Hart.
~ ~ ~
As the elevator doors opened on Angel’s floor, a group of giggling office personnel headed by Harmony scurried through the lobby.
“Oh, Xander! Hey! I’ll catch up with you guys in the break room.” Harmony sauntered toward Xander, arms extended, clearly intending to hug him. “We never did get that drink. You should totally come over to my place. I just got a plasma screen TV, and we could watch The
Banger Sisters or something.”
Xander neatly avoided her hug by bending down to retie his shoe. She tries to woo me with the aging cleavage of Goldie Hawn? Wow. “Sorry, Harm. Don’t think I’ll have time. Council business and all.”
“Oh.” Harmony’s pink lips briefly formed a pout before she was again smiling like an orthodontist’s wet dream. “Are you here to make fun of Angel? Please say you’re here to make fun of Angel.”
“Angel? No. I’m here to see Spike. What’s the deal with Angel?”
Harmony just shook her head. “This you gotta see for yourself. Spike’s in Angel’s office.” She walked in the direction her friends had gone, her high heels making little clicks against the linoleum.
Okaaay…Something seriously weird is going on around here. A tall, yellow lizard exited an office to Xander’s left, all the while gesticulating wildly to a harried-looking lawyer.
And I’m surprised…..why?
Xander knocked on Angel’s door then slowly opened it. Spike slouched in one of Angel’s office chairs, talking to someone Xander couldn’t see.
“Spike, I got your message. What’s going on?”
Spike swiveled around in the chair, a shit-eating grin on his face. He pointed to Angel’s desk. “Voila.” Xander walked closer for a better look.
“What? Somebody left a cheesy rip-off of the Count from Sesame Street in Angel’s chair. That’s hardly original. Bonus points for the massive forehead though.”
Suddenly, the Count rip-off moved, rubbing its face with its wee, wee hands. And then it spoke, in Angel’s voice. “Why do you do this to me, Spike? Why? I’ve been nicer to you in the past two days than I can remember being the entire twentieth century. But are you grateful? No. You call Xander Harris to come mock me. It’s not enough that I had to represent Wolfram and Hart like this at a meeting of all the demon Lords of the Amesukietty clans, no. You have to call everyone I’ve ever known within driving distance of L.A. to see Angel the Puppet Vampire Freak. If Drusilla walks through that door, I’m making you stake her.” Puppet!Angel glared at Spike. Or Xander assumed he was glaring. He was at least looking in Spike’s direction and attempting unsuccessfully to furrow his puppet!brow.
Spike grinned. “No worries, mate. Dru’s in South America. I did email her a picture, though. God, I love technology.”
Xander felt a laugh, the frenzied kind that won’t be denied—the kind of laughter that leaves you warm, limp, and slightly phlegmy—bubble up in his chest. “Angel’s a puppet!” That was all he could manage to squeak out before the laughter overtook him.
After a long period in which nothing could be heard but Xander’s giggles and the drumming of Puppet!Angel’s fingers on his desk, Spike stood and took Xander by the elbow. “C’mon, Harris. Can’t make too much fun of Angel. Might hurt his widdle puppet!feelings.”
Spike navigated a still-laughing Xander down the hall and into an empty office.
Xander wiped tears from his eyes. “Thanks for calling, Spike. That was, well, that was better than my most creative ‘something emasculating happens to Angel in front of Buffy’ high school fantasies.”
Spike looked thoughtful. “Emasculating. Hmmmm……wonder if he’s fully functional." A mischievous grin split his face. "Let's go find out.”
Xander put out his hand. “Gimme a break, Spike," he pleaded. "I might hurl if I laugh any more.”
“I know. This is better than the time Charlie pissed in Angel’s chair.”
Xander started laughing again, albeit weakly. “Ow, face hurting. Gunn did what now?”
“Never mind. Long story. Anyway, Angel’s little predicament isn’t the only reason I called you down here.”
Xander stopped laughing abruptly and his mouth went dry. “It’s not?”
Spike sat in a chair at the conference table and motioned for Xander to do the same. He lit a cigarette and left the empty pack on the table to use as an ashtray. With a nervous smile at Xander, Spike took a drag and started to talk. “Been doing a lot of thinking since I left your room, Harris. Angel wasn’t lying when he said he’s been good to me lately. Actually found myself talking to him, like it was the old days. Well, like the old days except we both had our clothes on and nobody was bleeding.”
Oh, god. He’s about to tell me he hooked back up with Angel. ‘Thank you, Xander. Your pitiful crush on me has made me see the light. The Brooding One and I belong together, two souled vampires, fighting evil and having wild monkey sex for all eternity.’
Xander grimaced. “Let me mention again how much I really don’t wanna hear about naked Angel.”
“You never have liked him, have you?”
“No. But I never really gave him a chance, either. In high school, he was so mysterious and tortured, and he had all these superpowers and a kick-ass billowy coat. And Buffy. All she saw was Angel. I mean, I wasn’t even in Deadboy’s shadow. He obliterated me.” Xander leaned back in his chair. “But now . . . It’s hard for me to feel anything but sorry for him. He’s lost so much. Realizing that me and Buffy would’ve been even more of a disaster than me and Anya helps, too.”
Spike snorted. “Took dying, again, for me to get that one through my thick skull.” He stubbed out his cigarette and tucked the butt into the empty pack. “When I left the hotel, I was so angry—at you, at Anya, at Lindsey, at the fucking PTB. Somebody’s always playing Kick-the-Spike, and I’m tired of all these bloody games. But the old man gave me some good advice. He said, ‘Don’t be me, Spike. Don’t wake up one day and realize the only meaningful thing you’ll ever have lying next to you again is empty space.’ See, I may be love's bitch, Harris, but I’d rather be a fool than give up entirely.”
Does that mean what I think it means?
“What are you saying? C’mon, Spike, spell it out for the manual laborer.”
Spike took a deep breath, still smiling that little same little nervous smile. “I’m saying, I don’t detest you, Xander. Things’ve been a hell of a lot more interesting since you came to town. And if Anya thinks you and me should,” he waved his hands around in the air, “whatever, I’m willing to give it a go. Demon girl always did have a way of cutting through to the heart of matters, didn’t she? But let’s take things slow, yeah? Don’t have to run into anything like it’s the sodding end of the world.”
Before Xander could answer him, a fully restored Angel opened the office door and poked his head in. “I’m baaack, boys. We’re heading out to Caritas. It’s time to talk end of the world.”
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