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Chapter 6
William
woke first, still cradled within his master’s embrace, and for
a few short moments he was truly
happy. Then he
remembered where he was, and he whimpered quietly as the
recollection hit
him. That
creature.
Buffy, he
remembered. It
looked like another person,
but… Master was
unaware of the intense danger, but the vampire’s senses had
been overwhelmed by the knowledge and it roused something
powerful within him, so much so that he’d been quite literally
stunned by the uncoiling of the beast within
him. It had
shocked him deeply, and he knew the reaction was wrong because
Master had welcomed the creature into his
presence. William
reminded himself that he was bad and stupid and didn’t
understand much about anything, and he knew he would try his
best not to disappoint or anger his beloved
master. The beast
would be quelled.
But should the Buffy creature come too close…
A
quiet knock broke into the vampire’s troubled thoughts, and he
raised himself onto one elbow, protective of his sleeping
master and instinctively ready to defend him against any
intruder. The door
cracked open and
Willow
peered
in, waiting a few seconds for her eyes to adjust to the
gloom. She made
out the glint of blue irises, and smiled in their
direction.
“It’s
only me, Spike, and I’m not coming
in. Can you give
Xander a shake for me?”
Spike
stopped to
consider. Then he
tapped Xander’s chest with the hand that had lain on it all
night.
“Mmm?”
“Xander.
Xander, I’m sorry to wake you but there’s
apparently some emergency at work – that’s your work not my
work – and they need to speak to
you. They’ve
already called twice.”
“Oh…fuck,”
Xander groaned.
“I’ll be there in five, make ‘em wait.”
“Okay,”
Willow
agreed
brightly before giving Spike another smile and silently
closing the door.
“Don’t
want to move.”
Xander groaned another groan and pulled Spike close for a
moment, planting a kiss in his hair before prising him
off. “Gotta get
up. Sure I can
remember how to do that if I try really
hard.” With a
supreme effort Xander got
vertical. He
groaned.
“Oh…fuck.”
The
mood of grumpy bastard hung about Xander like a cloud of doom
and
Willow
pitied
whoever was on the other end of the
phone. He took the
receiver and gave her one of the
shoot-me-and-put-me-out-of-my- misery looks she knew so well
from times past.
With a pat to his arm she withdrew.
“Alexander
Harris. Who’s
that?
… This had better
be… … Hold on,
hold on… Will you
calm down!
… For Christ’s
sake, there’s not a
problem. Where’s
Patrick? Pat knows
about this.
… And you couldn’t
have waited half-an-hour for him to get
there?
… Listen to
me. Shut up and
listen.
…
Listening?
…
Right. You in my
office?
… Okay, there’s a
file on the desk marked up for the Penciatti
development.
Inside the front cover there are reference numbers for the
relevant
blueprints. Pull
the blueprints, have them ready for Pat when he gets there,
and, hey presto, no
problem.
… Because I
know the site like the back of my hand, and I really,
really wouldn’t question my judgement if I were
you.
… Why, yes, Corey,
I am fucking mad at you, so you better back off before you
make it any worse.
…
Calmer?
…
Good. Now, this
number was only for emergencies, what are you doing calling
it?
… No, this is not
an emergency, this is an indicator that you need to get your
head out of your
ass.
… You don’t get
it, do you? I have
to be left alone.
… No – it’s –
not.
… When I get back
you will see an emergency, and it will involve the job section
of the local rag and a round of farewell drinks, do you get
that or do I fax you a
picture?
…
Okay.
… Say hi to
Patrick for me and ask him to give you a reference because you
won’t get one from
me.” Xander
slammed down the phone and stood
fuming. “Fucking
dickhead.”
“Pissed
much,” came Dawn’s impressed voice from behind him.
Xander
looked slowly around and found Dawn and Buffy at opposite ends
of the sofa, under blankets that Willow had obviously thrown
over them the previous night when they’d finally talked
themselves into unconsciousness.
“Long
time since I’ve been woken up by a rant-o-gram,” Buffy
yawned.
“That
was pretty mean,” Dawn said with an ill-concealed grin.
“So
not in the mood.”
“Been
working out?” Buffy asked casually, reminding Xander he was
only in a skimpy sleeveless t and
boxers. Suddenly
he felt very exposed, which was ridiculous.
“There’s
a gym in the basement of my building,” he replied equally as
casually, refusing to resort to babbling Xander circa 2000,
telling himself he did look good and if Buffy wanted to cop an
eyeful, as Spike would say, who was he to
complain? He
scrubbed his hair into an unruly
mess.
“Coffee.
Shower. Is it
still the middle of the night or is it me?”
“You,”
Willow
returned
to put a mug of coffee into his right hand, a mug of blood in
his left. “It’s
nearly eleven.
D’you think Spike minded me opening the door?”
“Didn’t
seem to, did he?
That’s a good
sign. You think
that’s a good sign?”
“I
don’t know what to make of him right now, so…I don’t
know.”
Xander
started to leave but turned back at the door.
“Wills…there
isn’t a spell or something…?”
“Too
dangerous. While
we don’t know what caused him to be…like…like he is, it’s not
safe to start throwing magic at
him. I asked Giles
and I could hear him frantically polishing his glasses all the
way from
England.”
This
time Xander did leave, and he grinned as Dawn’s voice drifted
up the stairs behind him to the giggled shushing of the older
women.
“God,
he was always hot, but…”
“Spike,
open the door, I’ve got my hands
full.” The bedroom
door was flung back and Spike welcomed him with sheer
delight. “You
never think I’m coming back, do
you?”
Pause. Reticent
nod. “That was a
crap lie crappily
lied. Here,
breakfast.” Xander
switched on the overhead light so he could see Spike clearly
and climbed back onto the bed, propping himself up against the
headboard; the vampire sat at his feet and
drank. “I
want
Willow
to
take a look at your
wounds. Is that
going to be okay?
Don’t say yes because it’s what I want to
hear. Think and
decide.” Spike
thought hard, brow kinked into a deep
frown. Minutes
passed. The frown
dissolved and Spike nodded, attention shifting to Xander’s
feet – whole, healthy, unbloody feet – and he couldn’t resist
a touch, sliding his hand over the smooth skin before holding
the toes in a direct copy of the way Xander held his when he
checked they were
working. The toes
wiggled and Spike almost smiled, looking to
Xander. The
expression on the human’s face sent a buzz of warmth through
his cold body and, although he had no words to put to the
feelings, he knew he was loved, and that he returned
love. It was an
old emotion, a trickle through the dam in his mind that held
back his past, the only remnant of a previous existence strong
enough to make any kind of breach.
“Finish
your food before it gets
cold.
Spike…” But Spike
was distracted by the feel of the skin beneath his fingers,
and he traced up the foot to the ankle, enjoying the shape of
the bones before moving to the sculptured
calf. Xander
flexed his leg, catching Spike’s attention as the muscle
turned rock hard.
“Hey, Spike,” Xander called, a little more insistently,
wanting the vampire to stop exploring before the wandering
hand encouraged anything else to rock
hardness. The leg
bent, slid out of Spike’s
hand. “Finish your
food.” Spike
blinked. Then he
nodded and did what he was told before staring mournfully into
the empty mug. “If
you’re still hungry you can get
more.
Willow’s in the kitchen, and she was by
herself. Want to
be brave? For
me?” Consideration
then determination crossed the vampire’s
face.
Nod. He stood and
went to the door, vacillating briefly before leaving the
room.
Xander
had only a moment’s pleasure at the bold
action. He was
delighted that Spike was prepared to trust
Willow
this
much, but Buffy had caused such an uncomfortable reaction last
night and she was still
downstairs.
Standing and pulling on some clothes, Xander forced himself
not to hurry, after
all… His stomach
clenched. He
picked up speed.
Halfway
down the staircase Xander heard Dawn shriek the vampire’s
name, and he leapt down the remaining stairs, racing toward
the sound of the young woman’s terrified
shouting. Through
the kitchen and into the back hall, he was in time to see the
cause of the
commotion. Spike
was an opening door and two feet away from the
daylight. Xander’s
reaction came from his gut: the only way to stop Spike dead in
his tracks before he was dead in the sunshine.
“William!”
he screamed at the top of his voice.
Spike
dropped like a stone, folding into the despised servile
posture; in the immediate silence the door clicked harmlessly
shut. Xander
covered his face with his hands, dragging what he hoped were
calming breaths into his lungs, the biggest ‘what if’ in the
world taking a hearty prod at an incipient panic
attack. The sound
of scuttling and a pleading touch to his feet brought him back
from the edge. He
fell to his knees and pulled Spike to his chest, hating that
necessity had let his friends see Spike this way.
“Oh,
God, Spike, I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, but I had to stop
you.” He crushed
the vampire to him and pressed his mouth to an ear, whispering
a steady stream of
apologies. The
women watched helplessly,
Willow
hugging
a thoroughly traumatised Dawn.
It
took a long time before they were all back in the living room,
the atmosphere brittle.
“Someone
want to tell me what happened?”
“It
was me,” Buffy’s voice came from the farthest point of the
room. “I scared
him.”
“You
didn’t mean to,”
Willow
protested,
“all you did was walk into the kitchen.”
“After
last night I should have been more careful.”
“Why?”
Xander spat.
“Killing vampires is what you
do. What’s one
more?”
“Xander,
you know I would never…”
“I
thought you would never,” Xander retorted furiously,
and they all knew that this wasn’t just about the events of
the last two hours.
Buffy
drew breath to speak but stopped herself, waiting a few silent
minutes before announcing her intention of leaving.
“You
don’t have to go,” her watcher insisted
“Yes,
I do. Xander
already has a big problem with me and if I somehow hurt Spike
he’ll never forgive me and I’m not prepared for that.”
“Buffy…”
“I
understand what’s happening
here. And I know
that sometimes to keep most of what you want you have to lose
a little of it.”
She met Xander’s eyes, unsurprised but deeply saddened by the
hostility she
witnessed. “I
didn’t mean him any harm today,” she said in a
non-confrontational
tone. Xander
turned his back on her, focusing entirely on Spike and cutting
her dead.
Willow
saw
Buffy and Dawn out.
“He’ll
calm down and see this wasn’t really your fault.”
“I
don’t really deserve him to,” Buffy
sighed. “Ever
wanted to go back in time and change things?”
“You
want a spell?”
“No,”
Buffy smiled. “I
want to have not screwed up so badly over that rite of
Srumanteshtak. If
I’d—”
“We’d.”
“If
we’d kept Xander informed…”
“He
wouldn’t have risked Spike and we’d all be dead.”
“He
isn’t going to forgive
me. He – he –
tolerates
me.
Barely.”
“Same
old ‘give it time’ line being served up here.”
“Six
years, Willow.
Isn’t that time enough?”
“Have
you tried saying sorry?” Dawn
asked. Buffy
looked at her
blankly. “To the
both of them?”
“Apologise
to Spike?”
“He
was one of us by then,
unquestionably. He
deserved better.”
“But
I let him kick my ass, what more can he want?”
“Xander
needs the apology.
And maybe the acknowledgment that you treated Spike like a
worthless piece of shit.”
“Dawn!”
“If
you’re sorry you need to tell
them. Maybe you
can’t care about Spike, but do you honestly think your pride
is more important than Xander?”
Dawn
wandered off to the car and Buffy and
Willow
exchanged
a troubled look.
“She’s
right. Why does
she have to be right?”
“You
can do this. If
you can face evil gods and defeat them you can apologise to
Spike.”
“Well…”
Buffy grimaced to herself and borrowed a
favourite Spikeism as she followed Dawn to the
car. “Bloody
fucking hell.”
…
Hours
later Xander was still troubled over what had occurred; Spike
was, as
Willow
had
pointed out, very
accepting. He
accepted his fear of Buffy, that his attempt to escape had
been potentially fatal, and that Xander was right to stop him
by using that name; it boiled down to scared, run,
danger, saved, Master, safe,
food? So, as
Xander paced and fretted, or sat and fretted,
Willow
fed
Spike, bag after bag of blood until Spike was shaking his head
like the bolt attaching it to his neck had come loose.
“No
more?”
SHAKE!
Willow
smiled
at the vampire and left him alone with his books, pursuing
Xander around the house as he went through a bout of broody
wandering.
“Willow
…I’m not getting this
right. I can’t
tell you how much I want to help him but I’m no good at
this.”
“If
you’re going to ask me to keep him here and let you go
home…”
“You’re
good with him, he’s taking food from you, he likes
you.”
“Xander,
he is your responsibility,”
Willow
told
him in a hard
voice. “He didn’t
come to me, he came to you, and this time you get to keep
him.”
“Oh,
shit.
Shit. Why
me?”
“How
honest do you want me to be?”
Xander
turned to her, anxiety level rising a few notches.
“What
do you mean?”
Willow
took
a deep breath.
“Xander,
you have to know that he was in love with you when you
left.”
“No.”
“Really
in love – not obsessed, not infatuated, not compensating –
this was the kind of deep love he had for Drusilla, the kind
that lasted a century.”
“No,
Wills, I…”
“And
it never went
away. He was
tormented by losing you, he couldn’t get over it, and that’s
what made him find you when he no longer had the ability to
tell himself he
shouldn’t.” Xander
shook his head and tried to get away;
Willow
moved
fast and blocked his way out of the
room. “You’re
going to listen. I
had to live with this and you’re going to hear
it. You should
know what he was like when you left, how miserable he
was. He was
desperately unhappy without you, it was an effort for him to
talk, I had to force him to feed, he didn’t leave the house
for months. He
loved you, Xander, and you broke his heart.”
“I…
Did he
say… I mean, did
he speak about us?”
“He
would never have compromised you like
that. But the love
and the pain were there, every time he asked if I’d heard from
you, how you were, if I knew when you were coming back to
visit.”
“He’d
just disappear. I
wanted to see him, but he was never around.”
“Oh,
Xander, of course he was
around. He was
aching to see you, and he did, every time you
visited. But it
had to be at a
distance. I just
don’t think he trusted himself to be with you, to have you for
a while and then lose you again without it destroying
him. He even
said—”
“What?”
Willow
shook
her head. “What
did he say?”
“It
was… I shouldn’t
have…”
“You
have to tell me.
You want me to imagine God knows what to fill in the
gaps?”
“Xander…”
“Please?”
Pause.
“After…after
about six months he started to go out
again. He came in
one night, so drunk he could barely stand, but he found the
picture I had of you in my study and he broke it, punched it
until the glass in the frame had shredded his
knuckles. I was
fixing him up and he
said… He
said…”
“He
said?”
“That
he would have turned you and kept you forever if he’d been
able to.”
“Turned
me? Oh,
God…”
“He
took it back straight
away. He cried and
cried and took it back, said he couldn’t harm
you. He kept
asking me what he’d done to make you
leave. I knew the
answer but I couldn’t tell him, could
I?” Xander
apprehensively looked the
question. “I
couldn’t tell him that he’d done nothing except be himself,
that you left because you loved him
too. After all, it
made no sense: you have two people who are very much in love,
so why does one of them move hundreds of miles away?”
“I
think I have to get out for a while,” Xander said quickly,
trying to suppress the panic in his voice.
“No,”
the watcher’s voice brooked no
argument. “He
needs you here.
You’re not running away again.”
“An
hour.”
Willow
paused
in thought.
“Ask
Spike if you can go.”
“I’ll…I’ll
ask Spike.”
Xander
tried to skirt
Willow
but
she stepped in his way.
“He
never mentioned any of it once he’d sobered up.”
“No,
I… No.”
Willow
stood
aside to let Xander go back to Spike, following slowly and
observing.
Spike
was sprawled face-down on the floor, comfortable on the
sheepskin, brow furrowed as he studied the book of
photographs. When
Xander knelt beside him his face lit up, and the human felt
the adoration like a resounding smack around the head.
“What
have you
found?”
London
, 1900. “Anything
seem familiar?”
Spike pointed to one of the
buildings.
“What? You
remember that
from… Oh, it’s the
building from the other book,
right. Well
remembered.”
Spike
carried on flicking through the pages and Xander studied the
bowed head,
Willow’s words ringing through his
mind. He’d always
known he was fooling himself, trying to convince himself that
Spike was a fickle demon, that he couldn’t love as strongly as
a human, that he’d get over Xander and move on with a minimum
of upset. He laid
down beside the vampire, on his side and facing him, earning
himself an almost smile.
“How
can you look at me like that when I broke your
heart?”
Frown. “Never
mind.”
Xander
ran his fingers over Spike’s knuckles, thinking about him
slicing his hand up as he battered the framed
portrait. The skin
was perfect thanks to the magical qualities of vampiric
healing; shame it didn’t work as well on emotional
devastation. He
recognised the Spike of old in the fact that he’d taken the
photograph for himself – it was a fair bet that Willow simply
wondered where the hell it had
gone. Spike was
looking at him again, simply unable to concentrate on the book
when Xander was so close,
touching. He was
beautiful. Even
now. Spike was
always beautiful.
“Are
you going to ask him?”
Willow
’s voice interrupted his thoughts.
“Ask
him?”
“If
he minds you going out?”
“Umm…no.
No.
I’m not going anywhere.”
…
Xander
offered to cook dinner, and
Willow
was
surprised by Spike’s interest as soon as he headed for the
kitchen.
“It’s
become part of the ritual,” Xander
explained. “We
decide what we want, then I cook and he watches, sometimes he
even helps.”
“So,
he eats with you?”
“Every
evening. He has
his blood but – and this seems weird – he seems to enjoy my
food more.”
“Maybe
it makes him feel more a part of your
life. The sharing
of food has always symbolised friendship and…”
“You
think he thinks that rationally?”
“I’m
not saying he thinks it, just feels
it. And he
obviously wants to do everything with you.”
Willow
realised
what she’d just said and blushed as Xander frowned at
her.
“I
can’t stop you thinking it but if you ask it I’m outta
here.”
“I
wasn’t…I mean I
didn’t… What are
you going to cook?”
“Nice
swerve.
Spike!” The
vampire appeared in the
doorway. “What
would you like to
eat?” Spike made
two definite gestures and Xander nodded his
understanding.
“Okay, come and help.”
“So,
what’s…”
Willow
repeated
the gestures.
“That’s
chicken risotto.
First thing I made
him. Comfort
food.”
Willow
smiled
and made the gestures again, trying to see the obfuscated
association.
“Progress
has been made,” she
grinned. “Looks
like he’s getting you pretty well trained.”
Xander
chuckled and began to find the ingredients for the
meal.
“He
always asks for the same thing; I think he’d live on it if he
could. He used to
be like that though, do you
remember? He’d get
hooked on something and eat it until he got sick of
it.”
“How
much of what you say to him does he understand?”
“I’m
never sure. Unless
he obviously doesn’t understand and then it’s…well,
obvious. I think
he often gets the sense of what I say rather than
understanding every
word. And
sometimes it’s the tone of voice he responds
to. But he’s
learning fast. He
does learn fast.”
“He’s
always been smart,”
Willow
agreed
with an affectionate smile that reflected her own private
memories of the vampire.
Xander’s
mind had
side-stepped. He
needed to share what his instincts had been shouting at him
for days.
“They
weren’t attempting to train demons,” he said quietly.
“What
then?”
Willow
asked
with immediate and intense interest.
“They
were enjoying
themselves.
Payback.”
Willow
opened
her mouth to argue the point, but found no words.
As
they ate
Willow
broached
the difficult subject of Buffy.
“She
didn’t mean to scare him.”
“I
know that,” Xander
sighed. “I
overreacted. But I
have to be so
careful. If he’d
got that door
open…” Xander
shuddered.
“Do
you want her to stay away
now? Because I’ve
been thinking along the lines of some reaction, better than no
reaction.”
“But
if it’s an adverse reaction…”
“If I
were you I’d take a
chance. Maybe if
she stirs him up he’ll start remembering, and once he starts
remembering he’ll be a little more…Spike.”
“Yeah,
I see all that, but he’s been so scared, and I came here to
help him feel better not worse.”
“Can
you ask him if he’d be prepared to have Buffy
here? Keep telling
him she won’t hurt him, and that we’ll always be here to look
after him.”
Willow
saw
by Xander’s face the way this was going and forestalled
him. “Think about
it. Don’t ask him
now anyway, let him enjoy his
food. This is
really good, by the way.”
“Swerve,
swerve, swerve,” Xander murmured to himself.
“Swerve,
swerve, swerve,”
Willow
echoed,
and he glanced at her with a weary smile.
The
evening was, on the surface, stress-free and
pleasant. Xander
didn’t ask Spike about Buffy, but the pros and cons were
constantly churning over in his
mind. Willow
brought out a book of Victorian horror stories and read to
them, remembering what Xander had said to her about Spike’s
level of understanding and putting as much expression in her
voice as possible to convey the meaning; Spike curled up to
Xander on the sofa, listening intently, taking the human’s
hand at the first sign of true creepiness and forgetting to
let it go again when the moment had
passed. It made
such a sweet picture,
Willow
only
wished she could have witnessed it when the vampire was
healthy and Xander hadn’t been made hostile and brittle and
detached by the loss he’d never come to terms with.
Three
stories and hot chocolate later, Xander prepared to clean
Spike’s wounds and change the dressings.
“Still
want me to see?”
Willow
asked
doubtfully, chary after the warnings of what to expect.
“You
don’t sound like you want to.”
“I
don’t But if I’m
going to explain to Giles…”
Xander
nodded at her grim face and took a deep breath as he steeled
himself for the awful task.
When
Xander had finished treating Spike and had helped him back
into his t-shirt and slippers he went looking for
Willow. She was staring
blindly at the dining room wall, face white and
tense. Xander
touched her shoulder and she turned easily to him, letting
herself be drawn close and held.
“Xander…
I never imagined…”
“How
could you?”
“I’m
so – so – so
angry. They
took him from me.
Four-and-a-half years he spent in this house with me, and we
got along and looked out for each other and kept each other
safe and then someone came along and just – just took him
away.”
Willow
shrugged
away from Xander and collapsed into a chair at the
table. “How long
before he gave up on us rescuing
him? D’you think
he knew we were trying to find
him?” Xander
shrugged; Spike might’ve made plenty of noise about what the
Scoobies owed him, but privately he’d expected
nothing.
Willow
didn’t
need to hear that.
“I couldn’t tell you when he
disappeared. It
was like you’d entrusted me with him and I’d let you
down. I tried to
tell myself that he’d got fed up with me and left, but in my
heart I knew it wasn’t as simple as
that. I have
crystals under enchantment that are dedicated to each of my
friends, and while they glow I know you’re on this
plain. Spike’s
crystal told me he was still as alive as he ever was, but a
locator spell couldn’t find
him. So, he was
being shielded by other magic, and I thought that he was under
protection because he’d managed to get the chip removed and
didn’t want Buffy to find him because she’d always said she’d
stake him. But I
never told Buffy what I suspected and we kept
looking. I knew
I’d be able to protect him if we found him – protect them from
each other if the chip was gone – and we kept looking.”
“These
other watchers, the rogue watchers, they could have cast a
spell to shield his presence?”
Willow
nodded,
a slow movement weighed down by remorse.
“Xander…
After…after what the Initiative did to him
before, he must have been so scared.”
“Don’t,”
Xander turned away, trying to evade the thought.
“He’s
a fighter, a survivor, resilient physically and
mentally. How far
did it go before he lost his mind?”
“I
try not to think about it.”
“And
I can’t stop. Ever
since you told me what happened to him I haven’t been able to
stop.”
“None
of this is your fault, Wills.”
“I
could have done
more.” Xander put
a hand on
Willow’s shoulder and
squeezed. He
empathised but had no words to make it
better. “I thought
tonight, the three of us together, it would be okay, maybe I’d
see him remember something or just be comfortable with me
because – well, because it’s
me. I used to read
to him. You
wouldn’t have known that, no-one else
did. I’d read to
him and we’d discuss the book – he’s really well-educated,
despite what he’d have us believe – and there were times we’d
end up talking all
night. I wasn’t
expecting anything like that tonight, but I hoped for
something… Just
something,
anything. But he
doesn’t know me.”
“He
doesn’t know me either,” Xander reminded
her. “Not as
Xander.”
Willow
sank
forward until her forehead rested against the table
top.
“You
feel old? I
feel old. Don’t
think I’m gonna get to thirty.”
“Oh, yeah. Last
couple of weeks, I’m older than Spike ever
was. Older than
Deadboy, throw in Dracula, Darla, the Master, you name it and
I can outstrip them all chronologically.”
“Take him up to
bed. I’ll see you
in the morning.”
“If you want company…”
“No. I think I’d
prefer to be alone.”
The bedroom served as a haven and, lying in the barely-lit
murk, Spike wrapped around him and rumbling away, it was
possible for Xander to shut away troubled thoughts about the
slayer and worries which now included Willow’s frame of mind.
“You okay, Spike?”
Nod. “You gonna
remember what I said about going
outside? Never in
the light?”
Nod. “’Cause I
think we scared each other pretty well
today.” Nod.
A long moment of quiet ensued, and Spike’s purr began to fade
as he drifted toward
sleep. When Xander
spoke again it was in a soft tone, voice filled with painful
realisation.
“I can’t live without
you.” I love
you and… “I
can’t live without you.”
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