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Chapter 5 This Much
Spike stirred as sunset
approached, smiling at the lovely toasty state of his body thanks to Xander’s
shared warmth. Move or stay put? He didn’t think Xander would freak out if he
woke to find himself wrapped around a vampire, not if it had given him the best
sleep in, possibly, years, but did he want to take a chance? This was
Xander, however much the turn his life had taken had changed him. There could be panic and loudness and the
loss of the smidgeon of trust they were teetering on the edge of. With a sigh Spike peeled himself away,
shivering with the chill when he lost that intense heat, even though the room
itself was quite warm. Having heard the faintest
sound of a familiar engine during the morning, Spike knew that Angel had arranged
a delivery; he went to the door and, standing carefully to one side because of
the sun’s last rays, threw the lock and opened it, reaching a single hand out
to snatch in the large duffle bag that was sitting on the threshold. Fresh clothes, other odds and ends they might
need, nice fat roll of notes, a few bags of blood which Spike transferred from
the insulated sleeves to the small fridge in the hospitality area of the
room. He switched the kettle on while he
was there, preparing mugs for tea and coffee and listening as Xander woke. “Okay,” soon came the
man’s encouraging voice, talking to the boy, Spike guessed. “Show me.
… Again. …
Okay, yes I can see it now.”
Spike turned to watch, leaning against the wall and being still and
silent. Xander was on his back, and his
hands were poised over his chest as if holding something Spike couldn’t
see. “Yeah, it’s wood, lacquered white,
it’s… Smaller.” His hands adjusted. “And when the lid opens…” Xander opened the lid that only he could see
and smiled. “Music box. The dancer, the ballerina, pops up and dances
to the tune.” Xander began to hum along,
and Spike recognised it immediately. “From “ Xander’s hands flopped
onto his chest, his eye closed and he inhaled deeply, releasing the breath
slowly. “Was that your client?”
Spike asked wryly as he turned back to finish preparing their drinks. “He was nine years old when
he passed. Can you – William – remember
being nine?” “Not really,” Spike
lied. “Those memories become
insignificant after a while,” he lied again.
“Here,” he brought the coffee to Xander and sat on the edge of the bed. “Can I ask something?” Xander shuffled to a sit,
took the mug, and sipped. “Thanks. Yes.” “You passed out after the
uber-nasty had been at you. Is that
usual?” “Can be. If the contact is very stressful, or
draining, or if I’m working for a long time.
It doesn’t always happen, and I can’t predict when it will. There are so many reasons why I’m not the
right guy for your job, if you want to change your mind…” “Don’t keep doing
this. You know you’re not going to talk
either of us out of it.” “In that case… I hope you’re prepared to keep picking me off
the floor.” “I caught you last time,
I’ll catch you next time.” “That’s
quite…touching. And equally disturbing.” Spike chuckled. “Medusa was more disturbed…” “Don’t call Simone that.” “…I think she thought I
was about to run off with you.” “She was right then, you
did.” “I’ll take you back to
Medusa. In one piece.” “More sincerity? Shit, brain’s going into meltdown. Can I change the subject, or at least slide
it several feet towards any place I feel comfortable?” “Slide away.” “I think I have to go by
myself to see Chrissie.” “No.” “It’s only into town
and…” “No,” firmer. “How much trouble can I
get into here?” “The boy died in
circumstances that you think might be questionable and you’re going to be
poking around in all that. I can see the
potential for trouble, even if you’ve conveniently manoeuvred it to your blind
side.” “You block the voices,
the people who are trying to talk to me.
Fantastic for a good night’s sleep – and I never said but I do
appreciate that – but I need to be able to get a clear link to the boy.” “You just did. I was standing…” Spike gestured to the hospitality area. “We simply need to establish the minimum
distance away you need me to be for that to happen.” Spike stood and crossed to the far side of
the room. “Is this enough?” “Spike…” “Is this enough?” Spike
repeated sharply, the severity of his voice conveying that there was no way he
was about to let Xander out of his sight. Xander listened. “Seems to be,” he admitted. Spike moved a step in. “Now?” Xander waved him closer. Then closer again, before holding up his hand
to stop Spike’s progress. “I come along
with you, keep at least this distance away, and I’m there to catch you if you
pass out.” “You’re…protecting your
investment, so to speak.” “Yes,” Spike replied
bluntly. “Not doing this ‘cause
you think I’m an idiot who’s going to blunder into a Scooby-Doo script.” “Wouldn’t be the first
time, would it?” Spike replied with a snort of derisory laughter. Xander’s undisguised look of hurt briefly
became sad acceptance before settling as bitter resentment; he took himself
away for a shower. “I didn’t mean…” The slamming door cut his
words short, and Spike was left alone to analyse the exceptional talent he had
for alienating people without even trying. … While Spike took his turn
in the shower, Xander went to the diner for what his screwed up body clock
insisted was breakfast. As he waited for
his food he took a notebook and pen from his coat pocket and tried to make sense
of some of the scribbles inside, pretending that he was okay with the time away
from home because it meant he’d catch up with detailing some of his more
interesting contacts and experiences for a highly intrigued Willow. He set to work with great determination that
lasted only minutes before he was wondering how The food arrived while he
was staring at his phone, and eating gave him more time to think. Which he did.
Trying to move forward rather than look back. Finding his concentration persistently
slipping away from the Dead Guy situation and fixing on a nine-year-old boy and
his traumatised mother. Nerves suddenly
struck him, turning his stomach into an uncompromising knot; the remainder of
the food on his plate was left uneaten as he considered the evening’s sitting
and the responsibility he’d heaped onto his own shoulders; he’d never done
anything quite like this before, and if he’d been asked about the possibility a
week earlier he’d have said no way, not without the advice and support of the
experienced team he usually had access to.
Yet here he was, with a mourning woman, a son’s restless spirit, and his
only backup was someone who thought he was a fool for trying to help. Xander was back to
staring at his phone, but he returned it to his pocket with a sigh. He didn’t want to fight with Spike. In order to use his skills to the best of his
ability Xander needed to stay calm and collected and, more than that, if this
low profile scenario carried on for any length of time, it would be unbearable
for the two of them to be at close quarters and constantly at each other’s
throats. Ah. Bad turn of phrase when
there’s a vamp in the equation. Besides, Xander liked to
think he’d matured rather nicely, become a better person than…the one who’d
thumped Spike a couple of days ago. He
cringed at the thought, closing his eye for a moment and opening it seconds
later to find he had company. “I shouldn’t have hit
you,” he told Spike at once, before his pride could stop him. “Oh. Right.
Not a problem.” “Really? You’ve just…forgotten it?” Spike nodded and stole an abandoned
pancake. “You want something of your own
to eat,” Xander offered, “or shall we go?” “Consider this a well
constructed and impassioned speech about why we shouldn’t,” Spike told Xander
as he licked syrup from his fingers. “Okay. That’s a…well constructed and impassioned
speech, and I’m truly moved, but…shall we go?” “I’ve packed up our
things. I reckon we should find
somewhere else to stay.” “Why?” “’Cause you’ve un-lowed
your profile and I want us out of here.” “You don’t even know
anyone’s looking for us.” “You do your job. Let me do mine.” Xander gave in without a
struggle. Having paid his diner
bill and asked for directions to the address he’d been given, Xander wandered
back to their room to pick up his belongings.
Spike was already there and standing by the dresser, holding and
studying the eyepatch, evidently deep in less than pleasant thought as he
rubbed a thumb over the smooth surface. “Terrible time,” Xander
admitted, quietly enough not to startle the vampire. “Yes.” “We got through it.” “At a price.” “That’s right. I lost my cool car but you were only turned
into a pillar of flames, how unfair is that?” Xander joked, not wanting to
dwell on losses – youth, innocence, home, eye, Anya – and not wanting to see
Spike’s shoulders slumped miserably as he reflected. “Want to hear something crazy?” he asked
brightly. “I feel like I can’t see so
well when I’m wearing the patch. Think
it’s psychosomatic?” “Probably.” Xander came close to
Spike’s back, reaching past to take the patch away from him. Grinning to himself he took the last step
until they were touching. He felt Spike
stiffen. “Spike… I know you won’t want to hear it, but there’s
something I have to tell you.” Xander
flicked the patch onto the dresser and placed his hands on Spike’s waist before
taking his time sliding them forward, down, and around until they rested on
Spike’s backside. “Xander…” The protestation due to
follow that curiously toned address never emerged. Target identified, Xander slipped his fingers
into Spike’s jeans pocket and pulled out his keys. “I’m driving, baby,” he
whispered into Spike’s ear. Snatching up his patch
and backing quickly off, Xander grabbed his luggage and left. Spike remained fixed in
place, deeply disturbed by the contact, the pretence of intimacy; stunned and
ashamed by the sudden longing he felt to be close to someone, anyone: it wasn’t
about Xander, it was about…not being alone.
An unpleasant revelation when he thought he was past that nonsense. He collected his duffle
and followed Xander out to the car, trying to find a persona to wear, or at
least get cross at being touched – teased
– in such a way. But after the clumsy
remark he’d made earlier he felt he owed Xander a little slack, so there would
be no glaring or growling or threats to keep his hands to himself. He’d give Xander nothing. And as he felt completely empty it meant that
Xander…got the lot. A smile from Xander as
Spike got into the car after throwing his duffle into the trunk, not a snarky,
gotcha smile, more of a harmless, please-get-the-joke smile. Unexpectedly finding a little something in
the nothing, Spike gave Xander a nod that evidently told Xander he was off the
hook because the smile relaxed. “Navigate for me.” Xander dropped the order
slip with the address and directions into Spike’s lap, started the car and
pulled out of the motel’s parking lot, following Spike’s monosyllabic instructions
and soon finding their destination: a tidy little house on the edge of town,
surrounded by open countryside to the south and west, and woodlands to the
north. Xander parked up, peered into the
dusk and coveted. “Wouldn’t it be great to
live somewhere like this?” he said, more to himself than to his gloomy
companion. “So peaceful.” “Quiet enough for the
kid’s last screams to be heard, but remote enough that…” “You say anything like
that when we’re with her and…” Xander
put a stop to the pointless threat about to emerge from his mouth. “You wouldn’t. I know you wouldn’t.” “There’s a turnaround,”
Spike noted with begrudged interest. “I have to stop doubting
you, your intentions, all of it; if we’re permanently at odds I’ll need
medication before the week’s out. I can
do it. I can do it. And…Spike… God, this is difficult, what I have to say,
and I’m not fooling around now.” Xander
paused awkwardly. “Since I started doing
what I do, I’ve been used to having someone I can lean on. Figuratively and sometimes physically. I spend a lot of time alone but I always know
my colleagues and friends are there for me.
And now…they’re not.” Another
tense pause. It was obvious where this
was going and that was good, Spike’s nothingness being usurped by a welcome
swell of self-importance as Xander continued.
“I need someone for support and I’m sorry but that has to be you,
whether we like it or not.” Spike looked
away, giving the illusion of being thoroughly unimpressed, but in truth hiding
the satisfied smile that played over his lips.
“You keep being honest. Be honest
with me now.” Xander turned in his seat
and waited for the vampire to do the same so he could meet Spike’s eyes. Spike, realising what was expected,
straightened his face and looked to Xander.
“Say I can trust you…” Xander
held his thumb and forefinger an inch apart.
“…this much. This much is all I
need to work with.” Spike stared at the
gesture, appreciating Xander’s need and accepting that, as he had all but forced
the man into this reliance, the least he could do was accept his part
graciously. The thinking time extended to
encapsulate a momentary surge of irrational resentment at being needed, and Xander
was beginning to look extremely worried by the time Spike gave a well-played,
determined nod that embodied selflessness.
The vampire even went so far as to extend the trust gap to an
inch-and-a-half, and adding, for good measure: “We’re on the same side.” “I know that, and I’m
going to do my best to keep reminding myself.” Spike finally cracked a
smile. “Pod Xander.” Xander grinned. “Yeah, I guess I’ve
mellowed. Shame it doesn’t always hold
around you, but I’m going to try.” “For her?” Spike tipped his head toward the house’s lit
porch where Chrissie was anxiously waiting for them. “Her. Us.
Sanity in general. Don’t let us
down, Spike.” Spike bristled at that
questioning of his integrity for a whole five seconds. Then, all else aside, he reminded himself of
the chance he was being given to prove himself, and who it was – the vulnerability of who it was – giving him
that chance. He felt quite moved, and he
didn’t like that one bit. “I don’t let people
down. Not anymore.” “Okay.” “Okay, my arse. I don’t need your endorsement.” Xander pulled on the
eyepatch. “That’s fine. I’m sure with your track record you won’t get
it.” “Good,” Spike snapped,
and Xander climbed out of the car while Spike quickly reviewed the last
exchange. “No, that isn’t… Oi, Harris, hang on…” Spike caught up with
Xander as he arrived beside the woman, experiencing unanticipated pity when he
looked at her properly for the first time, seeing how desolate she appeared. “Hi Chrissie, I’m Xander
Harris, this is Spike.” She turned a weak smile
on Spike but her attention was understandably focused on Xander, and she led
him inside without a word, issuing no invitation and leaving the vampire stuck
outside. “Xander,” Spike prompted through clenched teeth. “Yeah? Oh.”
Xander thought fast and returned to Spike. “Umm…Chrissie, are you quite happy for us
both to be in here?” “Of course, I’m sorry,
where are my manners? Come in, Xander,
Spike, please, come in.” They followed her through
to the living room, where a brawny youth was waiting; his apprehension was
laced with a hostility that seemed to flavour the air. Chrissie dithered between the boy and her
guests. “Hi, I’m Xander, and this
is Spike,” Xander said with his best inoffensive smile. “And this is Toby, he’s
my eldest son.” It didn’t need a psychic
to see the moment when the awful truth struck home yet again: not her eldest
son, her only son. She hurried to put an arm around him and hug,
trying to comfort them both. “This is
Toby.” Xander smiled again while
Spike studied the surroundings, relatively happy once he’d figured out the basic
ground plan of the place and where the exits were. “Has your mom told you
why I’m here?” Xander asked. Toby
nodded. “Are you okay with that?” “I’m not…” Toby cleared his throat and tried again. “I’m not going to stay while you do…whatever
it is you do. This is for my mom, I
think it’s crap.” “Toby!” “That’s okay, he’s fine,
thinking that.” “I’m so sorry,” Chrissie
told Xander, “he’s…well… I’m sure he
doesn’t mean to be rude.” Xander wasn’t, but
magnanimity won out. “The prerogative of
being…what? Seventeen?” “Sixteen.” “If you can’t get it out
of your system at sixteen…” Xander
shrugged amiably and Chrissie let out the breath she’d been holding. “Hey, Toby, Spike can keep you company while
we’re talking to The woman’s face crumpled
in upset and, barely able to excuse herself, she hurried from the room. “How d’you know his
name? Someone in town tell you?” Toby
demanded. “He told me.” The boy shook his head
hard and stormed out of the room. Spike turned on Xander. “I thought you wanted me
with you.” “I’ll be fine, I just
think a one-to-one will be better.
There’s also a chance that Toby will come back and cause trouble, so if
you can keep him occupied…” “If he thinks it’s crap,
what is he getting so worked up about?” “He’s afraid. He’s just a kid, and he’s afraid of what he
doesn’t understand. And he has to be
feeling pretty protective of his mom right now.” “I might take the
opportunity to have a word with him about his manners.” “Don’t say anything to
make him feel bad.” “Why? He’s already insulted you.” “No, he hasn’t, that
wasn’t about me. Look, I don’t want any
repercussions for Chrissie if you make Toby feel…” “Yeah, yeah, all
right. Kid gloves for the little shit.” “Spike…” Xander began
cautiously. “I know you get this. I know
you do, whatever front you put up, I know.” “You don’t know me.” “I know a mother’s
son. I know you get this.” Xander tensed as he
waited for the repercussions of being so presumptuous but, after the briefest
pause, Spike merely gave another of his resigned sighs and started out after
the boy. Xander sat in the
armchair closest to the door, closest to Spike, he supposed, should he need
him. As he waited the music box tune
entered his head, sung by a child’s voice, and the nerves began to disperse:
this would go well, or as well as it could with that poor woman suffering so
deeply. Chrissie returned,
apologetically waving a handful of tissues, actually managing a smile when
Xander joked that he should have a sideline selling the things. She offered him a drink, and he accepted a
glass of water, and while she fetched it he encouraged her son to make firmer
contact, feeling his guide’s presence very strongly as “He keeps singing to me,”
Xander told Chrissie the moment she returned.
“It’s the tune from the music box, Spike says it’s “Yes.” “It’s wood, the box “He’s okay now?” Chrissie
pleaded, fresh tears falling. “You said
he’s okay.” “He is. Completely recovered from how he passed,
he’s…with…” Xander listened. “Thank you.
Your grandmother, she’s taking care of him.” “Tell me,” Xander made
out through the sobs. “Tell me
everything.” … Spike found Toby outside
the house, idly rocking himself in the rope swing that hung from a large tree
at the side of the garden. “We don’t need this,” the
boy insisted sullenly as Spike strolled over to him. “No? Have you looked at your mum recently? Really
looked? At a guess she’s mid-thirties or
so but she looks fifteen years older, she’s stick-thin, newly grey, her eyes
are dead, her hands shake. You don’t
think that’s someone who needs help?
Needs comfort?” “Not from him, from what
he does.” “What do you know about
it, eh? Saw a TV movie that said it’s
all bollocks, that the depth of your knowledge?” “It’s not right.” “You’d know, would you?”
Spike grinned. “With sixteen years of
worldliness tucked under your belt.
Where’s the furthest you’ve been in sixteen years? Other end of town? Well, if the diner holds the key to the
universe’s infinite mysteries you’re set for life. If not…” Spike strolled a circuit
of the garden. “What’s happening?” Toby
asked, nervously as the show of bravado slipped. “Inside? Your brother’s talking to Xander, Xander’s
passing what he says on to your mum, and your mum’s no doubt bawling her eyes
out and enjoying every minute of it.” “Enjoying?” “Not in a Man U doing the
double kind of way, but she’s in touch with the boy she thought she’d lost
forever, course she’s enjoying it.” “How does she know it’s really
him? That guy could be making stuff up.” “That guy’s got a name,”
Spike said coolly, and Toby shrugged. “Xander doesn’t know anything about your
brother. He’ll just repeat what the kid
tells him and then it’s up to Chrissie to judge whether it’s really her son.” “Xander could have asked around.” “Why? You’re a pair of nothings, what’s to
gain?” Spike liked the gleam of anger he
saw in the boy’s eyes at that, it was far better than the impotent sulking. “That’s it, get pissed off with me, might get
you past the self-pity.” Another circuit of the
garden after the boy became resentfully quiet, but that seemed to have passed
by the time Spike returned. “What are you? His manager?” “Something like that.” “Can you do this stuff?” “No, and I wouldn’t want
to.” “Why?” “’Cause… It isn’t fun.” “Does it hurt?” “Yes, all the time,”
Spike lied without compunction. “Xander
suffers for this, suffers the dead to help the living. The spirits that talk to him… He experiences the way they died, it could
kill him any second.” “Really?” Toby asked,
wide-eyed with horror. “Yeah,” Spike assured
him, warming to this fabrication. “Every
time he does this he’s risking himself, but does it stop him? Nah, not Xander. Bloody hero, he is, ready to drop dead to
help the likes of your mum. The likes of
you.” “We should stop him then,
maybe, before…before…” “How did your brother
die?” The stroppy teenager
turned into a grief-stricken boy before Spike’s eyes, posture weakening,
despair undisguised by the head dropping forward. “ Spike recalled Xander
saying there was something not right about the child’s death. It begged the question… “Drowned, or was
drowned?” The sound of strangled
emotion accompanied Toby jumping from the swing and running off and, having
managed to thoroughly upset the boy, Spike considered going after him but
basically couldn’t find it in himself to give a toss. Instead he lapped the garden a few more times
before quietly re-entering the house. He paused in the doorway
of the living room; the reading had apparently come to a halt and Xander was
sitting on the edge of the sofa, holding Chrissie’s hand and talking in low,
comforting tones about the spirit’s messages.
She seemed inconsolable. Spike
revised his thinking: perhaps enjoy was ever
so slightly the wrong term. Despite having had years
to get accustomed to the idea, Spike still hated being useful. Useful. It rubbed the wrong way against every fibre
of his demonic being. But a glance and
gesture from Xander and he found himself in the kitchen, making tea, being useful. “I’m not your bloody tea
wallah,” he snapped the moment that Xander joined him. “Keep your voice down.” Spike growled and Xander
held up his hands in a placating stance. “Oh, come on then,” Spike
demanded at the sight of Xander’s uneasy expression, “this is going to be
good.” “What?” “Don’t take the piss.” “Er…yeah. Thing is…
Chrissie has asked us to stay here for a couple of days.” “How did she convey
that? Draw it on the carpet in snot?” “I said we would.” “You fucking what!” “Spike,” Xander hissed, “shut up.” “No.” “Spike…” Spike seized Xander by
the elbow and swiftly manoeuvred him through the house, barely leaving him time
for a ‘Just collecting our stuff’ to Chrissie as he was hustled past. “Get in the car,” Spike
ordered once they were outside. “I’m not leaving.” “We can talk privately in
there.” Xander popped the locks
and they climbed inside the Mustang, Spike with an energised sense of purpose,
Xander with reluctance that exuded from every pore. “You speak to Toby?” “Don’t try to change the
subject. We can’t stay here, we don’t
know these people…” “It’s about as low
profile as we can get.” “Until there’s talk of
the strangers staying with the diner’s waitress and they’re there because one
of them talks to the dead.” “That’s not…” “It is going to happen, small place like this where everyone knows
everyone else’s business. And what about
the brat? He certainly doesn’t want you
here.” “Maybe, when he
understands…” “He doesn’t want you here.” “Chrissie feels all alone
in this. Her husband— She says he works someplace away from here
but I think he’s gone, so it’s just her and Toby, and she can’t lean on him,
he’s just a kid, and she’s suffering so much.” “You can’t put everyone
right.” “I’ll tell you what I
couldn’t tell her,” Xander continued, unconsciously lowering his voice. “She knows he drowned and the circumstances
were odd. What she doesn’t know is that
he was deliberately held under.
Nine-years-old, an innocent, and he was murdered.” “I’m not entirely without
compassion, Xander, I can understand why that’s difficult for you to come to
terms with.” “This isn’t about me.” “It shouldn’t be, that’s
right. How d’you know that the person
who killed the boy isn’t going to bump you off too if it looks like you know
too much?” “I don’t know. But what I do know is that Chrissie needs my help. This family needs my help. They need to understand what happened to
their son and brother so they can move on.” “An accident becomes a
murder, and you think they’ll move on from that more easily?” “They will when we find
the person responsible and he’s brought to justice.” “It’s probably some
vagrant, passed through and long gone.” “If that’s true they
still need to know. The authorities need
to know to stop the guy hurting someone else.” “If you don’t care about
the risk to you, what about the risk to everything
if the murderer chucks you in the same river and…” “Pool. It was the pool, it’s…” Xander gestured through the windscreen to
their right. “Stop missing the point!” “This is the point. I’m staying, we’re figuring out what
happened, and if there’s a risk… I’m trusting you to keep me safe.” Xander held up the thumb
and forefinger: the inch-and-a-half gap became two. Spike slapped the hand down. “Your argument: me and
daylight. You go out in daylight, this
bloke catches up with you, you’re dead.
Then what do I do?” “Umm… Find a medium so I can tell you who it was.” “Is this where I get to
hit you again?” “I’m sorry you’re mad at
me, but…” “Not sorry enough.” “No.” Xander gave him a broad smile and
shrugged. “We’ll be okay. You told me you’d keep me safe, that I could
trust you. Why would you lie?” Xander left the car and
collected their belongings from the trunk.
On the way back to the house he paused in conversation with, presumably “I thought you could stay
in “That’ll help, somewhere
familiar to him. Is there space for
Spike in there?” “There’s a guest room…” “I really need Spike to
be with me.” The entirely wrong penny
dropped and Chrissie blushed furiously.
“We’re not… I didn’t mean…” Xander couldn’t help the giggles. “No, it’s just that Spike has this effect on
the spirits, keeps them quiet so I can sleep.
If I’m going to get any rest I need him close by.” “Oh, I’m so sorry,”
Chrissie smiled, embarrassed by her previous embarrassment, and Xander started
giggling again. “I’m not that bad a
prospect,” Spike protested. The giggles broke into
laughter. “There’s a mattress that
I can put on the floor next to “Yeah, thanks,” Spike
said as he frowned at Xander. “He’s hysterical. Which is handy as I do seem to have this
irresistible urge to give him a slap right now.” “No, no, no! I’m fine, not laughing at that,
not…laughing. At all.” Good as his word, Xander
managed to stop, even if it was a stop full of contorted features and bitten
lips. “Probably just the
tension lifting,” Spike explained reasonably to Chrissie, and Xander guffawed. “Yes,” he agreed as he
wiped his eye. “It is that
actually. Sorry.” “Don’t be,” Chrissie told
him, “it’s wonderful to hear laughter in this house again.” A nice sentiment to end
the night on, and Spike herded Xander upstairs and left him to experience “That be all right?” “Maybe you should put
it…” Xander pointed to a space
along the far wall. “What help will I be to
you over there?” “We don’t want Chrissie
thinking we’re doing anything…y’know…in here.
It’s her son’s room.” “I think she got the
message loud and clear.” “Yeah, but… Can we try it this way?” “You won’t sleep.” “I’m not that tired, and
I’m used to…” “Oh, for pity’s sake,”
Spike muttered before turning to take the bedclothes for the mattress from Chrissie
as she came in with a bundle. “It’s a nice room,”
Xander said with a smile. “He was… The contentment he felt is still here, in the
residual energy.” “He was a very happy
little boy.” “Unlike that one,” Spike
muttered from where he was staring out of the window. Seconds later a door
slammed downstairs and both men saw Chrissie steel herself for the conversation
she was about to have with her remaining son. “Please, if you need
anything, just call.” “Thanks. We’ll be fine.” A round of good nights
and Chrissie left them. “He’ll give her a hard
time.” “Maybe,” Xander conceded,
although he knew Spike was right, and it wasn’t long before they were aware of
raised voices as mother and son quarrelled over the night’s arrangements. Xander shook his head and
hummed to distract himself as he moved the mattress and got to work with the
sheets and blankets, Spike joining in with tunes he recognised as he snooped in
cupboards and drawers. “You care which you
have?” Xander asked. Spike gestured to the mattress
rather than the bed. Back to humming,
Xander kicked Spike’s duffle out of the way and went through his own bag for
his toiletries, starting to leave for the bathroom but hesitating at the door. “What?” Spike asked. “I don’t want to walk
into family warfare.” “Not your problem. Not if you believe you were right to stay,”
Spike finished provocatively, ensuring that Xander was out of the room in
seconds. Spike was in bed by the
time Xander returned, and he breathed in the sweet scents of toothpaste and
soap, studied the shaved face and combed hair. “Why the effort before
you hit the sack?” Xander stopped and
thought, questioning his routine. Smiled
affectionately at the memory. “Force of habit. Still.
Due to a long time of having an Anya.
Had to smell good, taste minty fresh, and if a single bristle scraped…” Unfortunately the memory
had advanced to include the room’s other occupant, and so much for the care
Xander had taken time and again when all Spike had to do was wallow in
self-pity, stink of booze and tip the woman in question onto a magic shop
tabletop. Xander returned to his bag,
rifling through until he found a well-worn paperback book with a pen tucked
inside; onto the bed, and he found and pored over a page, staring at it blindly
in his annoyance for a while before his interest was genuinely gripped and he
started writing in fits and starts, either on the body of the page or
scribbling what looked like figures in the margin. “What’s that?” Spike
asked, seeing Xander’s jaw clench before he made the effort to let the plethora
of negative emotions go, and rather admiring him for being able to manage it. “It’s a puzzle book. Numbers, logic, that kind of thing. Not words, I’m no good at crosswords, I get
one word stuck in my head and I can’t think of any others, so Doug…” “Doug again?” “He gave me this. It’s hard work, it forces me to concentrate,
almost to the point of cutting out the voices.” “No almost if you let me
move this mattress over there.” Xander gave Spike a long, cold, perfectly eloquent fuck-off-and-die look before returning to his puzzle; the vampire pseudo-nonchalantly turned his back and settled down to rest, or at least to attempt the illusion of rest as his mind relentlessly followed the monotonous, scratchy sounds of ballpoint on paper. Spike didn’t want to dwell on yet another mistaken assumption about the man, but he was prepared to concede that assuming Xander was managing to let all the negative emotions go might prove to be…a little…premature.
|
|
Chapter 6 Comfort
It was the sound of bare
feet pacing, floorboards, rug, floorboards, rug that woke Spike. The low muttering should have done the trick
but Spike guessed that it had been a continual murmur for so long his sleeping
self had become used to it. “Xander?” “It’s okay, go to sleep,
go back to sleep, I’m…I’m…” Xander’s
voice cracked and the pacing took on a new urgency. “Go to sleep, I’m okay, I’m okay, I’m okay…” “What’s happening?” “I don’t know. “C’mere.” “No.” “Xander…” “No. No.
I… No.” Spike leaned up and watch
the fraught man pace some more. Xander’s
arms came up and wound around his head, as if somehow he could protect himself,
block out the constant barrage. The
distress on the young man’s face screamed of how unsuccessful that approach
was. “Xander, c’mere, I’ll
help you.” “Don’t do that.” “No hidden agenda, Pet,
just want to…” “Makes me weak. Don’t make me weak, I can’t… Fucking hell, I can’t do this, I’m not good
enough, I can’t do this.” The voice broke apart
again and Spike could see how hard Xander was shaking. “Can’t do it alone, perhaps?”
Spike suggested, lowering his tone to sound inoffensive, appealing even. “Let me help you?” “Getting the job done?”
Xander asked with a bitter laugh that threatened to turn into a sob.
“Can’t do it, can’t focus, no focus…” “Xander…” “Fuck off, fuck off, fuck
off.” Pacing. “It’s not “Shh. Want to wake up Chrissie? That brat of hers?” “I don’t care. No, I do care. I do. If
it would stop, for a minute, one minute, if I could…I could…” The pacing had become
fast and erratic, bringing Xander close enough to Spike that, when he stumbled
over the edge of the rug and almost crashed to the floor, Spike was able to
grab his wrist and pull him onto the mattress, overcoming the automatic struggle
for freedom and tugging Xander close, forcing him still for as long as it took
him to notice that the voices had been silenced by the demon. The effort to escape
abruptly became the effort to be closer, Xander mindlessly seeking the peace
that Spike brought him, wanting rather than resenting the gentle, calming
strokes that ran over his neck and shoulders, down the twitching muscles of his
gradually unclenching back, needing the shushing and wordless noises of comfort
that took the place of the racket that had seemed quite determined to send him
insane. The result was
inevitable, Spike supposed; hot body squirming against him in the darkness,
reminiscent of so many moments – memories
– he’d attempted, sometimes pretended, to shun, and there didn’t seem so much
difference between squirming to be close and squirming to get away, not when a
vampire who is multiple times stronger has his arms around a human who is
really not going anywhere. The thin
cotton sheet and equally thin cotton boxers that separated them may as well
have not been there; Spike’s body responded to the stimulus and he was hard in
seconds: vampire hard, vampire fast. Spike didn’t care, he was
actually enjoying the contact, but he knew Xander would feel betrayed and
repulsed, certainly wouldn’t react favourably in any shape or form and… Fuck
me, yes! …the man was getting hard
in response, still pressing closer, hands wriggling out to grab and hold,
pushing past the sheet and onto cool, bare flesh that was kneaded and clawed
at. Too dark for Xander to
see who he was clinging to, the man was driven to distraction and very possibly
not in control of his actions; it was up to Spike to put a stop to this. No stopping then. The medium’s nonsensical
rambling stuttered to a halt, but the shuddering breaths continued as Spike
moved for the first time, rubbing his erection against Xander’s. “Steal you back from the
ghosts, shall I?” Spike crooned, nuzzling Xander’s cheek and grinning against
the skin as he waited for Xander to freak out at his mindless participation in
anything other than the quest for peace and comfort. Spike felt the change as
he dragged his cock over Xander’s, the good in him relishing being able to turn
the man’s anguish to pleasure, the wicked streak simply wallowing in the
eroticism of a fresh and unlikely fuck.
There were probably several hundred comments he wanted to make, from
teasing to downright pornographic, but Spike reluctantly kept quiet: there was
always the chance that this encounter might come to an abrupt end – and not of
the satisfactory variety – if he reminded Xander who was methodically working
their bodies together. Even so, Xander
leaned back, turning his face away, and for a split second Spike was enraged to
think it was over, but the rest of the still-trembling body stayed put, and
Spike ran a hand down to the human’s hip and tightened his grip, determined
that neither of them was going anywhere until this was done. But Xander was apparently
working to the same game plan. The
fingers that had been carving nail marks in Spike’s back made a hurried move to
cup the most convenient buttock and grasped far more clumsily and harshly than
Spike’s more controlled touch. The
vampire groaned at the show of urgency, delighting in the thought of bruises
being left on his body, however fleetingly: physical proof of being
desired. Undeniable proof should Xander
suffer a lapse in memory when this was over and start an unequal apportioning
of blame. Spike felt his features
change, the rarely seen demon coming to the fore and thankfully concealed by
the night; despite the presence of the soul, the urge to bite wasn’t easily
suppressed, but the inner struggle added its own piquancy. An absolute flurry of movement, relentless
pursuit of release, and Spike abandoned the habits of a century and just let
himself go, doubting that Xander would want more than this and therefore… Trained. I’m fucking trained. Fucking women. …not needing to make it last for hours. This was more than a half-decent fuck, it
was…liberation. With a hearty moan Spike
soared into his orgasm, aware of Xander joining him, the man stiffening and
gasping, yet astonishingly silent except for the rigidly suppressed creak that
very nearly escaped his throat. … Repercussions. Spike knew there had to be
repercussions. For a moment he even
considered the possibility of Xander coming to his senses and getting away from
the situation – the vampire – as fast as possible. Up, dressed, packed, into the car and on his
way home without listening to a word of Spike’s…apologies. Okay, he would apologise if Xander thought
he’d taken advantage but he’d be damned if he apologised for the rest because –
Spike smiled to himself quite genuinely – he had bruises. Xander shifted, and Spike
reluctantly removed his hand from the hip that fitted so nicely into it. Surprisingly, no running away, just a turn
and a fidget as Xander got comfortable, pushing himself back against Spike and
finally relaxing when he felt a strong arm encircle his waist. “Quiet,” Xander observed
flatly, sounding quite exhausted.
“Quiet.” “What happened? You said it wasn’t normal.” A quiet groan at the
thought before Xander forced himself to answer. “It was…everything I
usually have, but… More. Amplified.
It’s…it’s the mental equivalent of standing beside a jackhammer. Inside a ring of jackhammers.” “Another way for that
nasty to get at you, you think?” “I don’t know. Could just be me feeling out of control. Panicking ‘cause I don’t have the usual
people around me. If I was panicking
maybe it wasn’t as bad as…” “It was bad, I could see
that.” “Don’t make excuses for
me, I have to figure this out.” “In the morning.” “Yeah. In the morning.” Another subdued grumble
as Xander leaned up, Spike barely resisting the urge to grab him and bring him
back: surely he wouldn’t be daft enough to try spending the rest of the night
alone? Evidently not. The leaning up was about reaching over to
grab the blankets that Spike had discarded soon after getting into bed. Xander covered their bodies and tucked them
in before once more shuffling as close as possible to Spike. Spike returned to
stroking and fussing, whispering reassurances as Xander began to doze, the
caresses to the dark hair giving way to fingertips being drawn over brow, nose,
cheek, to the smooth, recently shaved jaw.
Lips. Spike tickled Xander’s
bottom lip and grinned when the tip of his tongue poked out to lick the
irritation away. A few more
acclimatising touches and Xander was more asleep than awake, ignoring the fingers,
even the one that gradually slid between his lips, scraping past teeth that
parted for the intrusion, in, out of the sleek, moist heat, slowly and
rhythmically. Spike closed his eyes and
simply…imagined. … More muttering. Spike woke to the, by now, familiar sound of
it, opening his eyes fractionally to see Xander pulling clothes onto a freshly
showered body. “I’ll do that,” Xander
was saying as the words became discernable.
“I will do that, I just need to let Spike know, and… … Again. … No,
I… Help him. … Ah,
okay. Thank you, Saul. … I
can find that. … No, that’s okay, I’m happy to.” “Happy to what?” Spike
asked suspiciously, making Xander jump. The human turned to him
and held up a quieting hand as he brought his conversation to a close. “You rest now. … I’ll
be there.” As Xander listened his gaze
travelled idly over Spike’s body, and the vampire went though the motions of a
leisurely stretch, kicking back most of the covers and making a display of it. “Okay.
Rest now. Rest now.” Seemingly impervious to
Spike’s attempts at garnering a little interest, Xander sat on the end of the
bed and started tugging on socks and boots. “Where are you going?” “I, um…” Xander glanced over at Spike and shocked him
with a friendly smile. “ “No.” “It won’t take long, the
pool…” “No. Not if I can’t go with you to keep you safe.” “I don’t need keeping
safe. This will just be a quick look
around, and… Anything feels wrong, or
the uber-nasty shows up I’ll be back fast, that’s a promise.” As Xander rose and headed
for the door, Spike was up too, barring the way before the vampire was seen to move. Now Xander refused to let his sight line drop
below Spike’s chin. “Don’t you ever feel the
cold?” “My job, we agreed, was
to keep you safe.” “And
my job, my…vocation,
isn’t about being safe, it’s about helping people, and I can’t do that if you
smother me.” “Don’t give me ideas,
that pillow is perfect for it.” Xander chuckled. “I’ll be careful. I may not be the person you expected when you
showed up, but I haven’t forgotten what Sunnydale taught me.” “There’s a killer out
there somewhere, and if he gets the merest inkling of what you’re up to,
knowing how to stake a vamp isn’t going to cut it.” “Can we be totally honest
here? You want me for your job because
I’m a convenience, I’m not fooling myself I’m anything more. If something happens to me before the big day
you can find another medium, however awkward some of the job description may
be. Something else I learned in
Sunnydale? I’m expendable. How about neither of us try to pretend any
different?” With a sincere smile,
Xander moved an unresisting Spike aside and left the room. Amazing how those words stung: one expendable
to another, Spike supposed. If they’d
been delivered in anything other than that reasonable tone they may have been
easier to brush off or argue against, but Xander knew exactly what he was
talking about. And, amazingly, he didn’t
seem to mind. It made Spike twice as determined
to get the man through this in one piece, and he rather liked that there were
aspects of Xander that brought out the best in him. Liked and
resented, naturally. To make up for his
admiration of Xander he did his best to find and steal the stereo, but he’d
apparently been outsmarted there. He
picked up the puzzle book from the floor and studied the page it fell open
at. He’d been expecting…he wasn’t sure
what – join the dots, he uncharitably
smirked – but this was complicated stuff, and he could see from the amount of
scribbled notes and calculations around the edges of the page that Xander
wasn’t lying when he said he didn’t find it easy, But Xander had persisted and was halfway
through the book, discounting the few unfinished puzzles that had been
scribbled into oblivion, evidently in frustration when Xander gave up on ever
finding the solution. Spike turned to
the front page. MENSA. Spike sighed and shook his head, pissed off
to discover yet another way in which he’d underestimated his companion, and
this was something – someone – he
should have remembered: the Xander Harris that accepted tackling the impossible
as a reasonable option. “‘To keep my dear Padawan
occupied’,” Spike sneeringly read aloud.
“‘With great affection, Obi-Doug.’” Spike was beginning to hate … Xander had returned after
a couple of hours, quite safely, and they’d found a note from Chrissie under a
fridge magnet telling them that she had changed to day shifts, they should help
themselves, and she’d see them later.
Spike rolled his eyes at the ridiculously trusting nature of the woman,
lecturing her in her absence while Xander made them sandwiches for lunch, deep
in thought over what he had and hadn’t discovered. Toby, Spike confirmed
after a moment’s listening for an extra heartbeat, was in the house, which left
Xander reluctant to talk about the circumstances surrounding Wayne’s death, not
wanting them to be interrupted and the boy’s brother to be alarmed or upset by
anything he overheard. “The front of the house
is in the shadow of the trees. I’ll move
the car into the shade and we can go sit in there and talk about it,” Xander
told Spike firmly when the vampire tried to extract some details. “Very unsuspicious. It’ll look like we’re staking the place out.” “No-one’s going to
notice, the road outside doesn’t really go anywhere, I doubt anyone much passes
by in the winter.” “Doesn’t really?” “It just goes up to a
picnic area and lake. We need to check
that out ‘cause someone could have got to the pool from there. I want to feel if there are any
emanations.” Xander noticed Spike’s
smile. “What?” “You. Emanations.”
Xander looked a question. “The
new edition Xander Harris takes some getting used to.” “We don’t have to talk
about any of this if it makes you uncomfortable.” “Not uncomfortable,
almost…excited. You talk emanations and
I get a bit of a tingle. Least…I think
that’s the emanations,” he said leadingly. The blush that swept over
Xander’s face confirmed that Spike had hit the intended target, and there was a
tense moment of expectation that was far more than almost exciting. But no
anger from Xander, despite the blush no coyness, apparently not even regret. “Spike, what
happened… Was that okay? I didn’t mean it to happen, I don’t know how
it did, and you didn’t say to stop, but I wouldn’t want to assume…” “It was okay,” Spike
assured, baffled by the fact that Xander obviously thought he had started it,
but quite willing to let that version stand.
“Really okay.” “I think I know why I was
so troubled last night,” Xander told him, ignoring the insinuation. “I have a routine that prepares me for a reading
or a meeting. I always give myself time,
if not to fully meditate, then to be quiet and focus properly, attune myself to
the energy around me. I came into this
not calm, not ready, completely stressed by everything that’s happened over the
last few days. So, my fault. Not the uber-nasty, my own shoddy
preparation.” “No more jackhammering
voices of a night then?” “I can’t promise
anything, that’s part of my problem.
Y’know…” “If you tell me one more
time to find someone else…” Spike pause,
stumped for a suitable threat.
“Actually, I don’t know what I’d do because you’re right what you said
earlier: you are convenient. That
severely cuts down my scope for intimidation.” Xander snickered. “I’m going to spend some
time alone this afternoon before Chrissie gets home, do what I should have done
yesterday before the reading. You can
spend the time figuring out tortures for me that won’t offend the soul or screw
with my efficiency.” “Or…” Spike began in a
sultry voice as he sidled a little closer.
“We could go to bed and carry on where we left off.” Xander looked mortified, and Spike sat back,
rubbing his hands gleefully. “No
objection from the soul, even to that agonised look on your face.” “Wait, wait, wait. Sexual innuendo as torture? After Anya – undisputed queen of verbal blunt
force trauma – you’re an amateur.” At Xander’s dismissive
snort, Spike quickly slid into the vacant chair beside him, arm around the
broad shoulders before Xander could get away.
The seductive voice returned, and it brought a set of fingertips with it
that trailed down Xander’s neck, barely touching but raising goosebumps
nevertheless. “Think you misunderstood,
Pet. Not just innuendo.” A single
fingertip rested on the pulse point.
“Now, tell me…” The accent
snapped to coarse, overemphasised cockney.
“She ever strap one on and give it to you?” Xander slapped a hand
over Spike’s mouth. “Fuck. Off.” “That a yes or a no?”
came the mumbled response. As the giggles started
Spike’s tongue squirmed wetly against Xander’s palm and he snatched his hand
back, ewwing and wiping it on Spike’s t-shirted chest. “Does my mom know about
you two?” came a disgusted voice from the doorway. “Us two?” Xander replied
blankly as Toby took the long way around the kitchen to the fridge, simply to
avoid passing closely by them. “Course she does,” Spike
smiled, catching on at once, rising and stalking the boy. “She thought while we were here we could
initiate you, introduce you to the joys of unrestrained arse banditry. We’re just waiting for her cheque to clear,
then we’ll toss a coin, and the loser will get to pop your painfully uptight
cherry.” “Don’t pay any attention
to him,” Xander chuckled as he watched Spike intimidate the hulking thing that
passed for a boy in these parts. “We’re
just… Damn, what are we, Spike? Friends would be an exaggeration.” “Kin. Care of Sunnydale.” Toby was now reversing
around the table, having become suddenly convinced that Xander was a safe bet
if he needed protection from the man who was pursuing him with slow but
frightening intensity, the last few minutes having taught him more about
watching what he said than years of reprimands from his mother ever had. Spike finally herded Toby to where he wanted
him, and the boy squeaked as he fell back into the chair Spike had recently
vacated. “Leave him alone, Spike.” Spike took a few more
intimidating steps, bowing and almost nose-to-nose with Toby before giving an
intimidatingly depraved grin. “Okay, Love, anything for you,” he told Xander
in a very sexy voice, then spun
quickly away. “Word of advice,” Xander
told Toby with faux gravity. “Never taunt the animals.” … Trudging through the cold
and dark, they checked out the picnic area that was on the other side of the
trees that bordered Chrissie’s house, then started to walk the shore of the
lake. “Picking up anything?”
Spike called to Xander who was twenty yards ahead of him. “Nothing so far, nothing
that matters,” Xander called back. “I
think we should turn around. Going
through to the pool would be a better idea.
Did you pick up the flashlight from the car? The path is hard enough to walk when the
sun’s up, moonlight won’t be enough. Not
for me, anyway.” “Yeah, I’ve…” Spike growled disapprovingly. “We’re going like this? All the way?” “We can get closer, you
know that, but this is good. And it can’t
be helped, not if I want to be receptive.
I can go by myself if…” “This’ll do.” Xander skirted around Spike,
maintaining the excessive distance, and headed for the overgrown pathway he’d
found earlier that day, the one that connected what should have been perfectly
safe land where the boys played, to this public ground. “Chrissie seemed a bit
better tonight,” Spike observed as he narrowed the gap a little. “Not so overwrought.” “It happens that way
sometimes. She’s found out that she hasn’t
lost her son entirely, and every contact makes her stronger. I barely told her anything new today, nothing
about his death, he just wanted to talk about his favourite toys, but that was
enough. It’s often the little details
that makes a person…makes a person…” “Xander?” “Uh… Stay there.” Spike watched as Xander
came to a halt and concentrated, increasingly fascinated by the twitching
fingers that beckoned the spirits closer. “Is it to do with “No, wait. Wait, Spike.”
Xander listened a while longer before literally bouncing on the spot in
satisfaction at a firm and deliberate connection. “Okay.
… Again? Edward?
No. Again? …
Ed…mund. Edmund. Edmund. …
Okay. Armit…Armitage, got
that. Edmund Armitage. … Yes,
I can… Who? … Oh,
I… Oh.”
Xander slowly rotated to face Spike, seeing the vampire’s shell-shocked
expression and wishing he’d listened to more of the message before speaking
aloud. “William Armitage?” he asked
apologetically, and Spike swallowed hard, nodded unsteadily when he finally
remembered how to. “You want to hear any
of this?” A more immediate reaction now
as Spike firmly shook his head. “Okay. I’ll get Saul and Jesse to help him move on.” “He’s here?” Spike’s voice was
disturbingly weak, and for a moment Xander considered lying but he knew Spike
would see straight though any attempt to convince him that his otherworldly
helpers had somehow acted in super-quick time to rid him of the contact. “He is.” “I’d love to see him,”
Spike said shakily. “See him, have him
here, real, get my hands around his fucking neck…” Xander twitched uncomfortably and Spike took
a few steps forward. “What? What did he say?” “He didn’t say. But… I
saw…” Xander refused to reveal
more but Spike waited a full minute before accepting that sentence was at an
end. “What did you see?” “You. Then. Through
his eyes. In life he wasn’t…” Xander fought down the sympathy, not wanting
Spike to misinterpret it as pity. “A
kind man.” Spike hated the idea of
Xander being one more person to be intimidated by his git of a father; he began
to march toward the medium, strong now, back in control. “Don’t look so worried,
I’m not about to take it out on you.” The spirits fled as the
demon approached, Edmund slow to disappear but gone by the time Spike reached
out and put his hands on Xander’s shoulders.
Squeezed. “It was his neck you wanted to get your hands
around, wasn’t it?” Spike laughed lightly and
shook his head in belated disbelief. “What a shock,” he stated
rather obviously, running his hands over Xander’s upper arms. “I must be about the last
person you’d want to know any of this. I
don’t have a choice, but I…” “I don’t mind you
knowing,” Spike said too brightly, a glaringly false show of not being
bothered. “What then? What did he show you?” “You don’t need me to
tell you.” “I do.” And here came the honesty, the pain. “I’ll always be wondering if you don’t. Every time you look at me I’ll be wondering
what you’re thinking.” “I look at you and think
Spike. This, here, you, Spike.” Spike’s hands dropped to
Xander’s; he entwined their fingers and brought the knot of digits up between
them. “Strong hands you
have. Always a worker’s hands.” “Yeah. I still do some carpentry. Raise a few extra dollars for the chapel.” “Strong. You’d—
Never lift them to a kid, would you?” Xander’s fingers
tightened around Spike’s. “No.” “Saw him trying to beat
the child out of me, didn’t you?” “Belt. He had a belt.” “Doubt he knew any
better. Just wanted to be rid of his
namby-pamby milksop of a son, wanted someone to be proud of, another barrister
in the family. Papa’s footsteps, and I
couldn’t follow. Fine, upstanding
gentleman he was, no-one would dream to question why his boy could barely walk
some days, brutality being the prerogative of the working classes, not… He just wanted rid of the weakness, and
thought if he hit William that bit harder, beat William, beat…me…” Spike finally looked directly at Xander, eyes
glittering wetly in the moonlight. “Why
does it still hurt?” “Because he betrayed
you.” “No.” “Yes. What he did was wrong, it was cruel, it was a
betrayal of you, and of everything a good father should be. You had the right to expect not to be hurt by
him.” “He really wouldn’t have
known any better.” “Don’t make excuses for
him.” “Am I?” “Kids do.” “I’m not a kid anymore.” “Yes, you are. You’re his kid.” “I’m a vampire.” “Okay, you’re his scary,
blood-sucking kid.” “You’re not scared of me,
are you?” Spike frowned, suddenly acutely aware that he was still clutching
Xander’s fingers. “I, um… A little.” “I don’t want that.” “It’s just the tiniest
bit of precautionary fear. I think it’s
healthy.” Spike looked down at
their hands; Xander’s gaze followed. “What did he want to
say?” “We didn’t get that far.” “He just wanted to show
you his technique with a buckle, did he?” Spike demanded with a humourless
laugh. “Spike… That may have been his way of showing me what
he had to apologise for. A lot of
spirits come through to acknowledge that what they did in life was wrong, they
come to say sorry.” “You said he wasn’t a
kind man.” “The man he was showing
me.” “But you don’t know.” Xander thought back,
trying to pin down the exact impression he’d received from Edmund. “I was shocked too,
but… I don’t remember hostility.” “I’ll be kicking myself
later for not taking the opportunity to tell him what I think of him.” “He knows.” “He does?” “I betcha.” The thought of that alone was quite
therapeutic; Spike’s hands relaxed and Xander was able to wriggle his fingers
loose, but made a split-second decision not to pull them free. “You okay to go to the pool?” Spike released Xander and dipped into his
pocket for the flashlight. “It may have
been your mom that told him to come and put things right.” “He shouldn’t be anywhere
near her. He should be in hell.” “It’s not as simple as
that.” “I don’t want to hear
that he’s been… What? Rehabilitated?”
Spike ground out the word in disgust, and Xander thought it was time to drop
the subject. He took the offered
flashlight and started toward the path.
“Xander?” “Yeah?” “You think she’ll come
back? My mum?” Xander stopped and
turned, an encouraging smile at the ready.
It faded at the sight of a master vampire’s tear-filled eyes. “I do. I can still feel the love she had for you,
Spike. William. It isn’t always easy for them to get through,
but if she finds the strength she’ll come back.” Spike sniffed, nodded,
waved Xander on. Glad for the distance and
the privacy that picking his way through the undergrowth allowed him, Xander
thought about what he’d heard, seen, felt, and his heart ached for the child
that Spike had been. His own parents had
been difficult to live with at times, but their constant arguments and
sometimes neglect of him were nothing compared to knowing your father held you
in enough contempt to want to eradicate the person you were, trying to mould
your nature with a sharp leather belt. He’d been left feeling
quite nauseas by the contact and its consequences, and it was with great relief
that he felt Wayne join him, excited by Xander’s presence and brimming with
happiness despite the tragic end to his mortal life. Ten minutes later the boy
zipped ahead to the pool and Xander was left in relative quiet; his mind made
up, Xander spoke to Saul and made an unprecedented request. Find William Armitage’s mother. … Nothing remotely sinister
during the walk through to the pool, words and images from Pausing beside the
driver’s door, Xander stared into the murky distance as he thought about what
next, startled out of his deliberations when Spike pressed up against his back,
hands running up and down his arms once again, but slowly now; face nuzzling
into windswept hair. “Um…Spike?” “You’re…comfort.” “I’m Xander,” he
grinned. “And you’ll really regret this
when you get over the emotions that have been raked up tonight.” “Why will I regret this?” “’Cause…I’m Xander,” was repeated with a laugh. “And we’re in public, and you’re…snuggling.” The explosion of denial
Xander was expecting never happened. “So? I like snuggling. Rarely get the chance.” “Yeah, I guess vampires
aren’t renowned for it. Bloodshed and
mutilation, yes, canoodling in picnic areas…not in the Watcher diaries.” “Mmm.” “You stopping now? Or do I call Giles and tell him to start a
new chapter?” “You mind then?” “It’s not that I mind,
I’m used to bereaved people acting out, but I think you’ll…” Spike was away and around to the passenger
side of the car so fast that Xander turned in a complete circle looking for him
before their eyes met over the car’s roof.
“You mad at me for saying that?” “No. Don’t want to be reminded is all.” “Okay. I won’t do it again.” Xander popped the car’s
locks, and they climbed inside. “Anywhere else you want
to go?” Spike asked. Xander glanced at the
dashboard clock. “Bar’s gonna be closed.” “I was thinking more his
school, or his friends’ houses.” “I think all the answers
are with Wayne. He’s the only one who
can tell us what we need to know.” “Is it likely? That he’ll tell us?” “Possibly more than
likely right now.” “Back to Chrissie’s
then? I’ll stand back and you can have
another crack at the ghost.” “Or we could go back to
Chrissie’s and grunt and groan outside Toby’s door,” Xander suggested with a
wicked grin. “Now you mention it… You surprised me. In fact…
I think I’m a bit disappointed.” “Disappointed by…?” “You. I expected you to be loud.” “You expected me to
be…” Mischievousness adroitly masked by
an expression of mild interest, Spike watched Xander’s consternation as the
penny dropped. “You expected? You…?
Since when have you been expecting?” “Since you made your
move. Don’t worry, I haven’t been concealing
a hankering for your arse since Sunnydale.” “I didn’t make a
move! And…and…we’re in a stranger’s
house, she’s in the next bedroom, her homophobic, us-hating son is across the
hall, of course I’m going to be quiet.
And can anyone tell me why I’m explaining myself?” “Well, yeah, there’s all
that, but when I considered…” “No, don’t consider,
don’t go there at all.” “Isn’t it a little late
to be squeamish?” “I don’t want to talk
about this. And I don’t want you considering anything.” “You started it.” “I did not! Yes! I
did! And I swear I don’t know how it
happened. I’m sorry, I’m really sorry,
and I’d be eternally grateful if a bolt from the heavens would strike me down
right now.” “Waste of energy: a car’s
the best place to survive a lightning strike.” “I know. But I’m prepared to step outside if you keep
saying…” “That I couldn’t resist
you?” “Stuff like that.” “You were all…warm
and…wriggling, I couldn’t help getting—” “I was – I was…stressed
out, badly stressed out. I think…I tripped and fell onto the mattress
with you, I wasn’t making a move, I was…” “Joking aside, I do know
that. Made you all the more
appealing. If it’d been a move I’d’ve…” “Let me get this
straight. You were turned on because I
was suffering?” “I was turned on because
you were warm and wriggling.” “But you said…” “What I said was… It wasn’t me being conned, it was you being
honest. That matters.” “Yes. Yes, I was being honest, but I still don’t
know…” Xander took a deep breath. “I didn’t thank you. For helping me, letting me sleep, not— Thank you.” “You’re welcome.” “I promise you I won’t…” “Don’t tell me you won’t
do it again.” “You think I’d lie about
that?” “No, I like to live in
hope.” “You’re not serious?” “It was nice. Wasn’t it nice?” “It was… Oh, fuck, I can’t believe we’re having this
conversation, just because…because…” “Because I’d expected you
to be noisy. Maybe another time…” “No. No other time.” “There’s a challenge:
make a screamer of you.” “I am not—” Xander took another deep breath. And yet more.
“Conversation’s finished. We’ll
go to back to the house, you’ll leave me in peace for a while, and I’ll meditate,
and what happened last night won’t happen again.” “You don’t want to share
your emanations?” Spike teased. “I don’t want to give in
to the need to repeatedly punch you and then get very drunk.” “Any chance there’s demon
blood in you? Shag, fight, bottle, it’s
a classic.” “We didn’t…!” Xander lowered his voice. “Shag.
We. Did. Not.” “That’s right,” Spike
agreed. “Nothing to get worked up over.” “I’m not getting worked
up.” “It barely even counted
as sex, it was more about…relief.” “Yes.” “Frottage as stress
management.” Xander dropped his face
into his hands. “I wonder if I could
still whittle a stake.” “Do we need a bad joke
containing a stake metaphor here?” “We really, really don’t.” Seeing Xander having to
hide from him, Spike felt a little guilty; he used a single finger to prise the
nearest of Xander’s hands away from his face. “I’m only playing.” Both hands dropped into
Xander’s lap. “I should know that,
shouldn’t I? You’ve changed but you
haven’t changed.” “It’s not meant cruelly.” “I get that.” “You do?” “Sure, you’ve…” Xander chuckled wearily. “Changed.” As the Mustang pulled out
of the picnic area Spike turned in his seat to study Xander’s profile as he
drove. It was a rare way to view the man
and not be reminded of being too slow in a vineyard. By the end of Sunnydale his ensouled self
hadn’t minded Xander, and now… It astonished
him to realise quite how much he admired this version. “Xander… I didn’t like you being upset enough for it
to happen, but… It was nice.” No reaction for a moment, then Xander gave what might have been the slightest, highly ambiguous nod.
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