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!!!!!
“So that’s the plan? Buffy’s charge-down-into-the-Hellmouth-with-a- bunch-of-teenagers- and-hope-Willow-doesn’t-go-all-veiny was a better plan than this.” Xander stabbed the air with his half-empty Corona for good measure. Sitting next to him, Spike nodded in agreement and clinked his beer bottle with Xander’s.
“Xander, it’s the end of the world. The Senior Partners have kept us . . . me. . . so busy with all the bullshit of running Wolfram and Hart that I didn’t even see Armageddon coming until almost too late. We don’t have a whole hell of a lot of time. You got a better plan, lay it on me."
Wesley looked at Angel, who was staring intently at Xander, and Xander, who was absently fingering the strap of his eye patch. “Angel, I don’t think Xander is denying the need for action. I think he merely wants to explore all possible avenues before we decide on a plan.”
Heh. That’s putting it . . .nicely, Wes. You mean, ‘Poor guy’s already lost an eye in the last apocalypse; don’t blame him if he gets all twitchy on ya.’ Under the table, where no one could see, Spike’s hand kneaded Xander’s thigh, then settled, a solid and comforting weight on his leg.
Angel sighed. “Wes, we don’t have any options. Any good ones, anyway. Lindsey said . . . .”
“Speaking of which, what do you think happened to the fucker?” Spike interrupted. The question seemed casual, but Xander could tell from the way Spike’s fingers dug into his thigh when he said Lindsey’s name that Spike was very interested in Angel’s answer.
“I know exactly what happened to him. Little perk of running Evil Incorporated. Trust me; Lindsey’s not going anywhere.”
Spike leaned back in his chair, apparently satisfied. He took another beer from the tray Lorne carried over from the bar and smiled at Xander. Xander smiled back and slid his hand under Spike’s, lacing their fingers together. I’m holding hands with William the Bloody under the table like a sixth grader. Woohoo!!
“Hey, wait a minute.” Fred tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "If Lindsey needed those tattoo thingies to hide from the Senior Partners, how come we’re doing our apocalypse planning all out in the open?”
Gunn looked at Fred in alarm. “And we’re just worrying about that now?”
Lorne waved his hands in a placating gesture. “Relax, people. Relax. I had the lovely ladies who set up the wards for Caritas dose the place up extra special for the evening. The Senior Partners could break the wards if they tried, but it’d take a hell of a lot of mojo to do it, and I’d know.”
Angel looked down at his whiskey, at the drops of condensation sliding down the slick glass and pooling at its base. “We don’t talk about this again, not without magical protection. Unless we get new information or a better plan, you all know what to do.”
Xander’s cell phone chose that moment to ring, breaking the tension at the table. Giles. Crap. Not good timing, G-man.
He walked to the farthest corner of the bar to answer his phone. “Giles, hey! What’s shaking?”
“Xander, it’s been more than a week since I heard from you last.”
“Oh, you know how it is. Just lazing around in the Spanish sun. Guess I lost track of time.”
“Do you think I’m an idiot, Xander? Despite Andrew’s best attempts to hide the invoice for your plane ticket from me, I know you’re in L. A. And now it’s time for you to come back to London.”
Xander glanced up at the group. Spike and Angel were watching him attentively. Stupid vampire hearing. Guess there’s no point in trying to make this a private conversation.
“Giles, I’m not coming back anytime soon. Something big is going down here, and I’m not just gonna hide in Headquarters while the world goes to shit.”
“Xander, I admire the bravado, but Angel and his cohorts cannot be trusted. They’ve been tainted by their association with Wolfram and Hart.”
“His cohorts? They’re not wearing Spandex and leaping over tall buildings, Giles. We’re talking about Spike. Died to save the world; remember him? Still pissed that you knew he was alive and didn’t say anything. And Wesley—granted, he didn’t make the best impression in Sunnydale, but he’s come a long way since then. And let’s not forget the Original Souled Wonder himself. When we had our own little apocalypse to deal with, Angel didn’t just tell us to go fuck ourselves.”
“Don’t be so damn naïve, Xander. Our seers have had visions of what is to come. They’ve seen Angel do terrible things. I cannot believe I have to explain this to you.”
“What did they see?” Xander looked again at Angel. He was staring at his hands, brow furrowed. Spike was smoking furiously and talking softly to Angel in between drags.
“They saw him giving a human child to a clan of demons, among other things.”
Xander walked back over to the group. “Lorne, do the wards in here cover phone calls, too?”
“They should. It’s some pretty powerful magic.”
Xander went back to his cell phone. “Giles, it’s part of the plan. Angel’s not supplying demons with tasty infant snacks. You’re just gonna have to trust me.”
“I do trust you, Xander. I just don’t trust the rest of them.”
Xander sighed. “And that’s just insulting, Giles. I’ve always thought of you as a father. I’ve stood beside you more times than I can count and done my part to hold back the end of the world. If you were half the man I thought you were, you’d be here, too, with an army of Slayers beside you.” Xander turned off his phone, cutting off Giles’ reply.
Most of Angel’s team seemed oblivious to the discussion. Fred and Wesley were talking softly at the table, laughing and punctuating their conversation with small touches. Gunn watched the two of them talk with something that Xander could only identify as regret on his face. Lorne even seemed to have forgotten Xander’s question. Xander could hear him clinking glassware behind the bar and humming to himself. But Angel looked . . . defeated. And Spike looked angry. Very angry.
“Can’t believe you stood up to the Watcher like that. Took a lot of courage, Harris. But what I really can’t believe is that old fool saying that shite to you. If he can’t trust you . . . if he can’t trust me after all this time, after everything that happened, everything I did . . .” Spike stood up abruptly. “Outta smokes. I’ll be right back.” He stalked out of the bar, but not before Xander saw exactly how deeply Giles’ distrust had hurt him.
How could Giles not trust him? I just don’t get it. Oh right, the last thing Giles did before we marched down into the Helllmouth was try to kill Spike. Did the man never read Tolkien? Xander tried to ignore his growing hostility towards the Watcher and instead touched Angel on the shoulder to get his attention. “Can I talk to you for a second? Away from the others?”
“Sure.” Angel followed Xander back over to the far corner of the bar. “What do you want to talk about? Spike? He’ll be alright; he’s just blowing off some steam.”
“I know. That seems to be going pretty well, actually. I never thought I’d be thanking you for interfering in my love life, but thanks. By the way, Spike told me what you said. I know you’ve got the corner on angst, Angel, but geez. You’re not alone, you know.”
Angel sighed. “Xander, everyone I love is either dead or letting someone else eat their cookies.”
“What?”
“Don’t ask. All I mean is that I’ve pretty much given up on that part of my life.”
Xander leaned forward. “It’s not only the kind of love that makes you wanna interlock parts that matters, Angel. You’ve got friends here that care for you, and you’re pushing them away.”
Angel frowned. “What are you talking about?”
“The memory spell.”
Angel glanced over at the group across the bar and lowered his voice even further. “Xander, the only thing keeping us all together is that spell.”
“Have you ever seen Star Trek V?” When Angel looked at him as if he’d lost his mind, Xander hastily added, “This is on topic, I swear.” Angel shook his head no. “Okay, in that movie, Spock’s half-brother Cybok has the power to take away people’s pain. He can get rid of someone’s deepest, darkest trauma, but the mojo leaves behind a kinda hollowed-out pod person. When Cybok offers to take away Captain Kirk’s pain, Kirk says something like, ‘No. Don’t take away my pain. I need my pain. It makes me who I am.’ Angel, that memory spell is a great big wedge between you and your team. You know; they don’t. You’re angry and guilty, and they don’t have a clue. So you just drift farther and farther apart.”
“Isn’t that the pot calling the kettle black? When’s the last time you talked to Willow?”
“Touche. But Willow’s not mindfucked into forgetting that I don’t call. Do you really want to die without knowing the truth? Without giving your friends a chance to really be your friends again?”
Angel locked eyes with Xander. Xander almost flinched at the raw pain he saw on the other man’s face. “But what if I lose them?” Angel whispered.
Just then, the front door swung open and Spike strode back in. “We done here, Peaches? If so, me and Harris are leaving. We’ve got places to go, people to see.”
Xander hid a smile. And the bossy vampire speaks for us both. One day, perhaps, I will find that annoying, but today is not the day. No, today my inner sheep is happy to follow my almost-boyfriend wherever he may lead.. “Presumptuous, much?” he said aloud.
Xander could feel Angel watching as he and Spike walked out the door.
~ ~ ~
“Wow. This place is cool. When Deadboy decides to do something right, he really delivers.”
During their heart-to-heart, Angel had apparently agreed to put Spike up in company digs. As they left Caritas, Spike had invited Xander to stay with him while he was in L. A. “Not like you can use the Council credit card after that little chat with Rupert. We’ll swing by the hotel and get your kit, yeah?”
So now Xander was wandering around a living room as big as the entire basement he’d once shared with Spike back in Sunnydale. The apartment was seriously swanky—expensive fabric framing the windows, real art on the walls, the latest in technology everywhere.
“Good thing the place came furnished, huh? Otherwise we’d be sitting on the floor.” Xander plopped down on the plush couch. He picked up a notebook that lay on the cushion next to him, then set it back down when he realized the notebook contained Spike’s poetry.
“It’s okay. You can read it. I mean, if you want to.” Spike said the words shyly, as if he were afraid Xander might refuse or make fun of him.
Something melted inside Xander, some part of his heart he’d kept frozen and inaccessible since he’d left Anya at the altar. He took up the notebook and handed it to Spike. “Why don’t you read one to me? I really liked listening to you the other night at Finnegan’s Wake.”
Spike smiled, gloriously, blindingly. If Xander didn’t know better, he’d have sworn the vampire was blushing. Then again, Spike never did fit the mold.
Haltingly at first, then gaining in confidence, Spike began to read. “This one’s called ‘World War 24.’ I wrote it about Dru.
World War 24
Porcelain Doll Your mother owns an antique shop She takes some stuff I take a lot
We sleep all day
Slow response I’m feeling like an after thought I guess I’m kinda lost in space And London’s okay
She don’t even ask what time it is anymore Dressed up like it’s World War 24
Sugar sweet She loves it when it hits her teeth The river hides the carousel In London, oh well
Coma comes Like bullets from a candy gun Delivers us into the sun In London my love
She don’t even ask what time it is anymore Dressed up like it’s World War 24
And if we get too high We’ll burn this town
Oh baby bring me down
I’m all yours I’m all yours.”*
Spike looked up nervously but expectantly over the edge of the paper.
“That was beautiful, Spike. Terrifying, but beautiful. I can really see you and Dru plotting to burn London to the ground. When was this written?”
“The poem’s recent, but it’s about the turn of the century, before even the first of the World Wars. Cocaine was all the rage back then. Everybody who was anybody was doing it. Kinda like the ‘80s, actually. We were in London again, and me and Dru’d holed up in an antique shop. The man who owned that place tasted like cobwebs and mothballs. Barely a drop of blood in that skinflint’s body. Anyway, we’d snort obscene amounts of coke, then smoke opium to come down. The only thing I can compare that time to was how wild everybody got after the World Wars. Woulda been more fun if coke didn’t make Dru batshit.”
“Spike, I don’t exactly remember Dru not being batshit.”
Spike snorted. “Yeah, but she wasn't suicidal. Coke made her think she could walk in the sun.”
Hesitantly, Xander asked, “Do you still love her?”
“Yeah, I still love Dru. I think I always will. But she’s a part of my past, not my future. Besides, we’re too different now to make it ever work.”
Xander nodded. “It’s good that you keep in touch, though. And I can’t believe I just said that. So what’s Dru up to these days?”
“Last I heard, giving what’s left of the Initiative hell. I’ll be damned if I tell her not to eat those wankers. I did ask her to lay off Finn and his wife. Buffy wouldn’t like it if she killed them.”
Xander smirked. “Awwww…..going soft in your old age?”
“Not hardly. As far as I’m concerned, Dru can make necklaces out of Finn’s entrails. I just don’t wanna see the old girl staked.”
“Uh huh. Softie.”
Spike shot him the bird and turned on the television.
“I should’ve known. Spike TV.”
As the opening music of Most Extreme Elimination Challenge blared, Xander shifted on the couch until his leg was touching Spike’s. Spike shifted as well, moving gradually closer to Xander until they were plastered together. Just as Guy le Douche attempted to grab the mud-encrusted breasts of a contestant, Xander turned and kissed Spike, who opened his mouth to let Xander’s roving tongue inside. As the kiss deepened, his hands worked their way under Xander’s shirt, exploring smooth planes of skin. Xander broke the kiss and looked at Spike, his eyes dark and liquid with desire.
“Spike, I really wanna make out with you. All we’ve really done is kiss, and that’s been amazing, but I’m feeling all gropy and handsy. And I understand if that’s not okay. If it’s too soon, or whatever, I can wait. I know you said we don’t have to rush like it’s the end of the world. But it’s always the end of the world, and I feel like we’re running out of time.”
Spike smiled at him so seductively, Xander was sure it must be illegal in forty three states. He didn’t speak, just stretched out his hand and led Xander down the hall to his bedroom . . . .
TBC
*"World War 24" by Ryan Adams on the album Love is Hell