Fiction by Lorraine

This is set immediately after the Ats ep "Damage." Xander discovers Spike is alive and comes to L.A. to see for himself. In my world, about a year has passed between the destruction of Sunnydale and "Damage."

Beta: kitty_poker1 All Hail All Hail

Wesley opened the door to Angel’s office, everyone in a tight group close behind him. Gunn was still ribbing Xander about his demonic suitors back at the bar, and Fred was slightly drunk and hanging on Wesley’s arm. Lorne seemed a bit distracted but smiled at Gunn’s teasing and off-handedly flirted with Spike as they all piled into the room.

Angel stood with his back to the door, one hand resting flat against the glass of the window. He made a soft noise, something deep in his chest like a laugh choked off, and Xander realized he was crying. Xander had never seen Angel cry, and he didn’t think he wanted to now. He’d seen Spike cry before, and it was loud and messy and blotchy and angry, but Xander had always thought that if Angel ever cried it would be an event both silent and epic, something stoic and slow like the ocean lapping away at a glacier. Then Angel turned from the L.A. cityscape, and his eyes were red and his face was wet, like so much rain on pale marble. Angel’s bottom lip quivered, and Xander averted his eye. Angel’s tears were not subtle as he’d expected. A crying Angel was naked, raw, exposed.

It’s just wrong to see him like this. Like we’re trespassing.

In an instant, all the laughter and optimism they’d brought with them from Caritas hit the wall of Angel’s grief violently and shattered. Wesley took a half-step forward and stopped. “Angel, what’s wrong? Where’s Cordelia?”

Beside Xander, Lorne blinked back tears, and Xander realized why Lorne had seemed so affected by his number at Caritas. “You knew, didn’t you?” he whispered.

“From the first note, babe.” Lorne rubbed his eyes, a single tear escaping his fingers to shine like green glass on his cheek.

Angel turned away again and leaned his forehead against the cool windowpane. “She’s dead. The Powers only let her come for a day to deliver a message and now it’s done. They don’t need her here anymore, and she’s dead.”

The absolute certainty that Cordelia was gone sat like a stone in Xander’s stomach. He was grateful when Spike maneuvered closer and put a hand on his shoulder. Xander leaned back into the contact, the weight of Spike’s hand on his body something tangible to focus on, something safer to feel than the sharp edges of Angel’s sorrow.

Somebody really should go to him. He shouldn’t be over there by himself.

For a long moment, no one moved. Then Fred stumbled across the carpet, catching her hip painfully on the back of a chair in the process. She winced and touched Angel hesitantly, her hand dwarfed by his broad back. Angel broke into sobs, ragged sounds that hurt Xander to hear. He bent down into Fred’s arms, and the others rushed to where they stood, leaving Spike and Xander alone across an expanse of room.

Spike squeezed his shoulder, and Xander turned to face him. Behind them, he could hear Wesley asking Angel questions and Gunn cursing softly under his breath. I don’t want to do this anymore. I just want to go back to Spain and sit on the beach. Drink San Miguel and laze in the sun. Spike opened his mouth as if he might speak, but instead he took a deep breath and awkwardly pulled Xander into a hug—just the briefest press of Spike’s arms around him, the barest instant for Xander to note the way the shorter man’s chin nestled perfectly into the crook of his neck. Maybe Spike could come with me. We’ll scrap the beach and go to Madrid instead. Figure out this destiny thing together. Okay, enough crazy talk, Xander. Spike is hugging you ‘cause he’s your friend and he feels sorry for you. He doesn’t even know about Anya’s message or that it somehow feels right to be in his arms.

Then Spike released Xander and dug through his pockets for a cigarette, cursing when he found only a half-crushed, empty pack. He dropped the box in Angel’s wastebasket and muttered under his breath, “ ‘There are three things that are never satisfied, yea four things say, It is not enough: The grave; and the barren womb; the earth that is not filled with water; and the fire that saith not, It is enough.’”*

Abruptly the door swung open behind them, and Harmony poked her head in.

“Go away, Harmony. This is private,” Angel said in a flat tone, his face hidden behind Fred’s hair.

“Okay, but you told me and Deandra Simmons and, like, twenty other people to work late on the Anderson project, and I am not doing it all by myself. If the whole building gets a night off, I’m leaving too.”

“What the hell are you talking about, Harmony?” Gunn asked.

“You guys sent out some secret code, and everybody packed their bags and left. I stayed to work on the invoices like I was supposed to. I should get a bonus for overachieving.”

Xander looked at Spike. “Lindsey,” they both said simultaneously.

“What about Lindsey?” Angel gently pushed away from Fred, his mouth set in a grim line.

“He tried to kill me earlier tonight, and now I think he’s infiltrated Wolfram and Hart. He’s wearing a protection spell, but Wes can easily break it if he knows where to look,” Xander said.

In an instant, Angel’s entire demeanor changed. All emotion vanished from his face and he squared his shoulders. When Angel spoke, Xander thought his eyes looked empty, void. “Alright. Fred, Wesley, you work on breaking the protection spell. Harmony, I want to know who sent out that code and what it means. As soon as we find that bastard, Xander, Spike, Gunn—you’re with me.”

~ ~ ~

It feels like I’m back on the Hellmouth. I had forgotten how much it sucks to never have time to grieve. We just run from one disaster to the next with barely a moment in between.

Harmony had determined that the code sent out through the building related to some secret scheme Wolfram and Hart had developed to kill Angel. Someone, probably Lindsey, had set the plan in motion, but the team wouldn’t know for sure until Wesley completed the counter spell.

Now Xander walked through one of Wolfram and Hart’s subterranean corridors, flanked by Spike. In front of them, Gunn and Angel marched silently, Angel brandishing a sword in one hand. According to the blueprints Harmony had shown them, the room that housed the secret death-to-Angel weapon was situated at the end of this hallway. Ahead, the corridor intersected with another, forming a large space with openings on all four sides. As the team passed through this section of the corridor, Xander heard footsteps and looked down the hall to his right.

Oh, shit! Are those zombies? I hate zombies. They smell like crap, and they’re always trying to bite you. At least with a vamp you’ve only gotta watch out for your neck, but zombies’ll gnaw on anything.

“Um…guys? I think we have company.”

“I see them, Xander.” Angel stopped and dropped into a fighting stance, holding his sword before him.

“There’s too many, Angel. It’ll take too much time. You and Charley go on ahead. Boy wonder and I will beat back the zombies.”

They ARE zombies. Yay. Xander automatically turned his back to Spike, trusting the vampire to protect him from attack on that side. He hefted the axe Gunn had given him and started hacking as the first zombie lurched towards him, spraying his face with its fetid spittle. Xander’s fighting skills had grown tremendously since the destruction of Sunnydale. When he had requested service in Africa, Giles had insisted that some of the Slayers train him in self-defense tactics. Apparently Africa was full of insurgents and guerilla warfare and dangerous humans that might hurt Xander. Why Giles had never expressed this sort of concern for Xander’s well-being when nasties were knocking him around on the Hellmouth, Xander could never quite wrap his brain around.

But the training served him well. Xander was plastered in zombie-drool and zombie-blood and various other zombie fluids that he’d really rather not identify too closely, but none of them had bitten or scratched him. Behind his back, Xander could hear Spike taunting the creatures as he effortlessly sliced through body parts. Zombies weren’t particularly challenging foes, but the large number of them funneling into the corridor detained Spike and Xander for longer than Xander would’ve liked. He could hear what sounded like swordplay from farther down, and he was anxious to rejoin the other half of the team.

When the last zombie toppled unceremoniously to the ground, Xander stopped for a moment to breathe. Spike wiped his hands on his jeans and looked at him, that same feral look he’d had at the car dealership. A look of danger and power mixed with desire; a look that had radiated slow warmth through Xander’s body before and did so again now. Xander knew they should hurry; Angel and Gunn might need help. But what if this is it? If I’m gonna be a zombie-snack, or worse, do I really wanna go out not knowing what might happen? So what if I’m afraid? This is no time to be a wuss.

Before he could argue against himself, Xander crossed the zombie-littered floor and kissed Spike. Spike turned his head at the last second, and Xander caught the corner of Spike’s mouth accidentally. For the space of two heartbeats, neither of them moved, Xander’s lips just resting softly against Spike, his breath warming Spike’s face. Then Spike opened his mouth, and Xander kissed him. Really kissed him, a swirl of tongue against tongue and teeth and the sensitive roof of Spike’s mouth. Spike’s arm snaked around Xander’s waist and pulled him closer, heedless of the gore that covered their clothes. Xander felt little shivers of want run through him and concentrate in those places where Spike’s body pressed tightly against him. As the kiss became more urgent, Spike tightened his grip on Xander, his fingers digging sharply into Xander’s hipbone. He trembled when Spike broke the kiss to run his tongue up the column of Xander’s neck, long wet licks that left him breathless and weak-kneed. Xander breathed a long shuddering sigh, but reluctantly pushed away from Spike and cleared his throat.

“Sounds like Deadboy needs backup.”

Spike’s eyes were dark and half-lidded with desire. He tucked a strand of hair behind Xander’s ear and nodded. A particularly loud crash from down the hall startled them both, and they jogged down the corridor toward the unmistakable sounds of a battle. As they entered the room, the first thing Xander noticed was Angel holding a bare-chested Lindsey tightly around the throat. As he watched, the tattoos lifted off Lindsey’s torso and hung in the air above his head, writhing around each other like snakes before dematerializing. Angel tossed Lindsey against the wall, where he crumpled in a heap.

Lindsey struggled to regain his footing, using the wall for leverage. “ ‘So, what now, huh? Think you got it in you to kill me’?”**

“ ‘I really don’t think I have to’.”**

“Hey, Lindsey,” Gunn hollered from atop a platform in the center of the room. “ ‘I think your epidermis is showing’.”**

A portal opened in the ceiling and something sucked Lindsey through. It closed with a bright flash of light that left spots dancing before Xander’s eye. When the electricity in the air had dissipated, Angel seemed to shrink, fold in on himself somehow. He turned to Xander wearily and asked, “Does that offer to help still stand?”

Xander nodded.

“Good. Lay low for a couple days and then meet me at Caritas. Big surprise. It’s the end of the world again.”

Angel dropped his sword on the ground and motioned for Gunn to follow him. As they walked back the way they’d come, Xander could hear Angel say, “Cordy told me something really interesting, Gunn. Seems there’s a sarcophagus stuck in Customs that you’re about to sign through.” Gunn said something in reply that Xander couldn’t quite make out, and then Xander and Spike were alone.

Xander laughed nervously, the full weight of the implications of that kiss hitting him hard now that the crisis was over. “We both really need baths,” he said. Oh crap, what if he thinks that’s a lame come-on? I did just stick my tongue down his throat, after all.

Spike smiled back, a little smile that flickered around his mouth and barely curled his lips. “What was that back there?”

“You mean that kiss?” Xander asked, stating the obvious to stall for time.

Spike rolled his eyes and nodded.

“I don’t know. I just . . . wanted to. I’ve been wanting to pretty much since we cleared out that vamp nest in the car dealership.”

Spike took a deep breath. “I don’t know what you want from me, Xander. You show up here, offer me a place to live, and then you kiss me like it means something to you. Not that it wasn’t a bloody good snog, but . . . Do you still love Anya? ”

“Yes. Do you still love Buffy?”

Spike looked at the floor. “Yes.”

Xander shrugged. “What do I want, Spike? I wanna stop being so lonely. I wanna be happy. I really think I wanna kiss you again.”

Next

*Proverbs XXX, 15
**Taken from Ats episode “You’re welcome”