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Chapter 9
Xander found the drawing pad and pencils, laying down on the
floor with Spike, receiving the smiliest almost-smile yet as
he wriggled his way onto the sheepskin with the
vampire. He took a
pencil for himself and gave one to Spike, who watched with his
usual interest in any and all things Xanderesque as the human
wrote his name on a blank page.
“Can you do that?”
Spike thought, studied the letters, copied them in as close a
hand to Xander’s scrawl as he possibly
could. “Can you
write the word without copying the way it’s
written?”
Frown. “It’s just
that you didn’t used to write like
me. Your writing
was…elegant,
refined.
More…” Xander
tried to imitate Spike’s beautiful
script. Spike
tried to imitate Xander’s
imitation. Xander
hid his disappointment and smiled, writing Willow’s name
beneath his and
Spike’s.
“Recognise that
name? Can you read
that name?”
Shake.
“Okay. Can you…”
Xander began thoughtfully, “…can you draw me
something?” Xander
drew a quick sketch of a
chair. Then a
cat. A
flower. He put his
pencil down and nodded at Spike, who withdrew into deep
thought. Willow
wandered over and peered at the pad.
“He can’t remember how to write?”
“Nope.”
“Didn’t take any chances, did they?”
“Nope.”
“I think it was
deliberate.
Choosing Spike.
They knew he was a part of us and…and I don’t know what.”
“The whole bad dead/undead fraternisation thing?”
“Or did they do this to a Master to convey a message to the
lesser vampires?”
“Whatever. They
paid,” Xander muttered grimly.
“Was that Angel you spoke to in the night?”
Xander hesitated.
“Did I wake you up?”
“Haven’t been sleeping too well anyway.”
Another hesitation.
“Yeah. That was
Angel.”
Willow nodded sagely, but surprised Xander as he braced
himself for the inquisition.
“Spike could draw, you
know.” She went to
the dresser and pulled out an A5 notebook, handing it to
Xander as he rolled and sat
up. “I found this
between the sofa cushions after he went missing.”
Xander took the notebook and slowly flicked through
it. The first few
sketches were of the people around him at the time – several
of Dawn and Willow, a couple of Buffy – then they went further
into his memory.
Giles, Angel, Drusilla, a few faces that Xander didn’t
recognise, but the majority were of Xander himself.
“These are really good.”
“If he’d tried to make a go of it as an artist as opposed to a
poet he might have been quite successful.”
“You heard his poems?”
“After pride had become a charade for him.”
“Willow…”
“When he was in a particularly silly mood one
night. He shared,
we laughed until we
cried. He could be
so…” Willow
shrugged sadly and walked away.
“Did he really change so
much? After I
went?”
Willow stopped, pausing before she turned back.
“That’s a pretty stupid question,
Xander. Destroy a
man’s foundations and expect him not to
fall?” She gave a
ladylike snort, shook her head and left the room.
Yes, that was a fair
assessment. He was
pretty stupid.
Vastly stupid.
Infinitely stu—
Xander had turned back to Spike, seen what was on the paper
before him. He had
drawn Xander, which was almost to be expected, but – open
expression, laughter in the eyes, longer hair, general lack of
heartache – it was the younger Xander, the one that Spike had
fallen in love with.
“Willow! Willow!”
Willow raced back into the room.
“What? What’s
happened?”
“Look.”
“It’s you. He was
always going to draw you.”
“Look. That
isn’t the face I see in the
mirror. I haven’t
seen that Xander for years.”
“Oh, Goddess…” Willow
whispered. “He
remembers you. He
remembers.”
William didn’t understand the fuss, and he kept missing the
point when they tried to
explain. It was a
likeness of Master which, if he was honest, did no justice to
the inner goodness that shone from him but could not be
captured by such primitive means and inadequate
ability. Growing
tired of the constant questioning and reasoning he very
deliberately put down the pencil, pushed the pad away, and
turned so he could take Master’s hand and press it to his
brow.
“You want me to shut up about
this?”
Nod. “Okay.”
William slumped onto his back and stretched, ignoring the
prickly feel of his wounds and the smell of blood as the tiny
amount of healing was
undone. He flopped
a forearm across his eyes and lost himself in the joy of
listening to Master’s heartbeat.
Xander moved beside him and made himself comfortable,
stretching out on his side, head leant on an extended arm,
other hand resting gently on Spike’s stomach and stroking.
“It’s a start,
y’know. You’ll
remember. It’ll
all come back
and…”
‘Your
loss, Xander. Fuck
you!’
“It’s a
start.”
Xander heard Buffy and Dawn come into the house a little
later; Spike must have heard too and the lack of reaction was
satisfying. He
heard Willow regaling them with the news about the relevance
of the sketch Spike had drawn, and he could discern Dawn’s
enthusiastic response; nothing from Buffy at
all. Her first
words were delivered as she entered and left the living room
in one quick movement.
“Oh…get a room.”
Xander felt Spike tense under his hand and was so tempted to
follow Buffy’s advice he was mentally
packing. But then
Dawn bounced in, sinking onto the carpet beside Xander and
reaching over to take the drawing
pad. She leant it
on Xander’s hip and studied the portrait.
“That’s you…what?
Twenty-two, twenty-three?”
“Something like that.”
“Hi, Spike.” No
response. Xander
prodded and Spike’s fingers gave a slow
wave. “Think he’s
listening?”
“I have no idea,” Xander admitted.
“Spike, this picture is really
good. Can I keep
it?” Spike raised
his arm and peered at Dawn as if he couldn’t believe his
ears. “Can
I? If Xander
doesn’t want it?
Do you want it, Xander?”
“No, you have it.
It just reminds me of how old I look now and how much older
still I actually feel.”
“Can I see?” That
was Buffy, standing over
them. Spike gave a
shiver.
“Dawnie, take it
away.” Dawn looked
at Xander curiously, trying to figure out if the ‘it’ he
referred to was the picture or her
sister. But she
stood and guided Buffy to the sofa, where they sat and
appreciated the
sketch. Xander
leant in a little closer to Spike and dropped his voice so
that only the vampire would
hear. “Did you
want me to keep
it?”
Shake.
“Good. I don’t
want to look at me and
you… Well, you
have the real thing if you want to do any
looking.” The
smile in Spike’s eyes died and his attention darted past
Xander.
“Xander,” Buffy said, and it was obvious from the tone that it
wasn’t the first time she’d tried to catch his attention.
“Buffy,” he acknowledged without looking round.
“What did Angel say?”
Xander bridled; why had Willow told her?
“About Spike? Or
were you hoping for something a little more personal?”
Mmm…the sweet sound of a slayer gritting her teeth.
“Does he think there’s any way of helping Spike?”
“He thinks I’m doing just fine.”
“Oh. Good.”
“You sound surprised.”
“Just hoped he’d be more
help.
Two-hundred-and-fifty years of experience and you’d think he’d
be able to offer more than keep up the good work.”
“He did help. He
was very…supportive.”
“Supportive.”
“Supportive.
Very.” Xander knew
without seeing Buffy’s face exactly what her expression would
be, and she wasn’t too impressed with his about-face over
Angel. To irritate
her more he stroked Spike’s cheek with the back of his
fingers. “I think
we’re going to see a
reconciliation.”
It was all he could do to keep the laughter from his voice.
“Okay.
That’s… Dawn,
shall we go pick up the pizzas?”
“I thought they were delivering.”
“No, we’re collecting.”
“But…”
“You can drive.”
The ultimate bribe: Dawn had the car keys in her hand and was
out the door in a second.
“Where’s Dawn going?” Willow asked as she entered the living
room with a tray of coffee.
“Pizza.”
“I thought…”
“No, we’re
collecting. We’ll
be ten minutes.”
“Ice cream too.”
“Fifteen minutes.”
Xander listened for Buffy to leave but she walked over to him
and crouched.
Spike was up and away before Xander was aware of him moving.
“That was clever,” he groused as he rolled onto his back and
propped himself up on his
elbows. “I thought
the idea was for you to keep your distance?”
“Xander… Xander,
we can understand if you’re lonely, but this isn’t right.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You don’t need him, Xander.
“This isn’t about me needing him, I’m taking care of him.”
“And you shouldn’t feel you have
to. Let the past
go and find someone you can have a normal relationship
with. A decent,
sane, uncomplicated
female. Or a
decent, sane, uncomplicated male, who cares, happy is all.”
She patted his shoulder and left, Xander watching her
open-mouthed yet speechless.
“Spike went up to your room,” Willow told him in her best
changing-the-subject tone.
“Did you hear that?”
“I tried hard not to,” she admitted.
Xander sprang to his feet and headed for the door; Willow
caught his arm and stopped him as he passed her.
“What?” Xander
heard the harshness in his voice and felt guilty for firing it
at his old friend.
“I’m sorry. What
did you want to say?”
Willow ran her hand up and down Xander’s arm a few times,
making contact.
“I think she’s frightened you’ll let yourself be trapped in an
impossible
situation. If
Spike doesn’t get better you may be taking care of him like
this for the rest of your life.”
“So?”
“You deserve…more.”
“You were going to say
better. I deserve
better.” He shook
his head. “No, I
don’t. What
happened to Spike is my fault.”
“No, Xander, that’s ridiculous.”
“Indirectly.”
“Not even indirectly.”
“I owe him. You’ve
reminded me of that time and again since I’ve been here.”
“Not to the exclusion of your own happiness.”
“You think Buffy’s right
then? I should,
what? Dump Spike
on who? Angel,
maybe? Forget him
and just find this mythical decent, sane female?”
“Or male,” Willow said apologetically and
adorably. It
knocked the last of the anger out of Xander, leaving him
defenceless. Deep
sigh and he turned away, raking his fingers through his hair.
“I’m not gay. I
know what Buffy thinks and it’s not as clear cut as
that. I don’t
think I’m anything in
particular. Truth
is I’ve always been so damn needy I perk up if anyone shows me
any attention. But
this thing with
Spike…” Was so
hard to put into words, and Xander’s voice faded to nothing.
“Can I ask… Have
you been alone all this time?”
Xander nodded.
“It’s not like I haven’t had people interested in me – women
and men – but I don’t want any part of
it. I can’t help
comparing them to Spike, and when I do
that… They don’t
stand a chance.
How could anyone match up to
him? And…and…”
“What?”
“I… I’ve always
been…”
Willow waited for a full minute for Xander to continue before
offering a gentle prod.
“You’ve been…?”
“Faithful.”
“Faithful to him?”
Xander nodded again, sad eyes exposing his vulnerability as he
waited for kindly-delivered ridicule.
“Stupid?”
“Oh, no, Xander, no.”
“It’s not primarily a sexual thing, loving
Spike. But I
always wanted him, and it’s tough, knowing I can never have
him now.”
“This Spike…”
“No. I’ll never
have my Spike, the Spike I – I burn
for. And I do
burn.
Still. For the man
I fell in love
with. Inside I
burn. Wanting
him…consumes me.”
Willow could feel Xander’s misery as if it were a living
thing, the depression a solid mantle pressing over him, slowly
and deliberately crushing his already fragile spirit.
“Is that why you left?”
“I was so scared of how I
felt. Just a
stupid kid who didn’t understand about holding onto the most
precious thing in his life, frightened that if I let anything
start it wouldn’t be long before he got bored with me and I
couldn’t…I just
couldn’t… I
couldn’t have him, then not have
him. I was
obsessed with him.
I thought that if I didn’t get out then I would be lost in him
forever. Didn’t
take me long to realise it was too
late. Maybe it was
always going to be too late, from the minute I invited him
into my apartment and him staying for a couple of weeks turned
into a couple of
years. I admired
him for it, for
staying. A man
with such a fierce streak of independence allowing himself to
be dependent. It
was… What if it’s
all gone for good?
Those amazing
qualities. The
intellect, the humour, the
bravado? That
wonderful sense of the
absurd. Remember
his eyes? The
mischief there? I
loved… I loved his
eyes. I used to
see myself in his
eyes.” Xander
paused, taking in a few sharp breaths, and when he spoke again
the quiet desperation in his voice was enough to make Willow
shudder.
“I’ve been lost for so long,
Willow. Pretending
I was okay, that I’d got over him enough to have a life, but
I’ve been lost without him, afraid to look at myself and what
I’ve become: this – this…empty
shell. And now I
have some insubstantial image of him to care
for. It’s like
another punishment, as if the past five years haven’t been
hard enough. To
have this person who is but isn’t
Spike. I don’t
deny I love him, I do love him, but
he’s…he’s… He
isn’t my
Spike. He isn’t
the Spike I see when I close my eyes, he isn’t the Spike I
loved until I went crazy with
it. He isn’t the
Spike who made me light up inside when I heard his key in the
lock, he isn’t the Spike who made me feel good enough, he
isn’t the Spike
who…who… He loved
me. He knew me and
made me good enough and he loved
me. I need him so
badly, I need him and I
can’t… I’m empty
without him and I can’t…”
“Xander,” Willow said, her voice full of
compassion. She
reached up and touched her fingers to his
face. “You’re
crying.”
“Am I?” Willow
pulled Xander to her with a strength he didn’t know she
possessed, trying to hold the pieces together as he finally
began to shatter.
He buried his face in her hair and released the bitterest
truth. “What am I
going to do? What
do I do? I’ve lost
him forever, Wills, I’m never going to love anyone like that
again. I’ve lost
him and I can’t do this and I don’t want to hurt
anymore. I’d
rather be dead.”
“No,” Willow whispered, as she cradled him and cried
too. “Don’t say
that, never say
that. We’ll find a
way, I promise, we’ll make him well, give you your Spike back,
I promise. Please,
Xander, please don’t give up.”
An uncertain touch to her shoulder made Willow jump, and she
forced Xander’s head up, making him look to where Spike was
standing, anxiously observing.
“Hey,” Xander croaked, wiping his
face.
“Everything’s
okay. I’ve just
been…” Xander’s
voice disappeared completely as the tears refused to cease,
and he lowered his head again, not wanting Spike to see this,
to be distressed.
But Spike showed nothing, just looked coolly at Willow until
she stepped back, giving him clear access to
Xander. He took
advantage of it immediately, pulling Xander into his arms with
an air of possessiveness that Willow had no wish to interfere
with, and she moved away to lean against the wall, emotionally
drained. Xander
let himself be comforted, feeling the urgency in the vampire’s
embrace as cold hands fussed and caressed, cold hands that
left his skin burning wherever they
touched. He’d
always loved Spike’s skin, cool and smooth, always wanted to
run his fingers over it without fear or
inhibition.
Turning his face he kissed Spike’s neck, and it was both
wonderfully tormenting and soothing so he did it again and
again, working up to his face, fighting shy of his mouth
because he knew if he really kissed Spike once he wouldn’t be
able to stop and he’d have to pretend and take him away
and use him and fuck him until he loathed himself. He took the
beautiful face in his hands and met the stunning blue eyes
that were misted over in concern and sympathy for him.
“Spike… Spike,
please come back to
me. Forgive me and
come back. I
want…I want you to love
me. I want you to
tell me. I want to
hear you…”
A fresh wave of tears took his voice and Spike held him with
such love and care, returning his kisses for the first time,
lips ghosting over his temple and cheek.
So intense was the moment that no-one registered Buffy and
Dawn coming back in, Buffy leading the way and dropping the
pizza boxes onto the coffee table, barely glancing at Xander
and Spike before tutting to herself as she turned away and
took off her coat.
“Hey, Xander, think you got a little vampire there on your
face.”
“Buffy!” Dawn snapped.
Buffy turned back sharply, saw in quick succession her
sister’s pale face, Willow propped against the wall, shaking
as she wept, and the fact that this was Spike comforting
Xander.
“Xander?” Buffy whispered.
“Back off.” The
hoarse direction was given without aggression, purely with
exhaustion and
misery. “Can’t you
ever just back off?”
“Xander?” she said again, sounding like a lost
twelve-year-old.
“What happened?
Was it me?” No
answer. “I’m so
sorry, Xander, I didn’t…”
Buffy began to cross the room, intent on making
amends. Two more
steps and Dawn squeaked in surprise as Spike put himself
between the slayer and Xander, shaking his head painfully as
he transformed into full game face.
“Xander, he’s turned,” Willow called urgently, and Xander
automatically grabbed Spike around the waist, pulling him back
against his body.
At that moment Xander knew that if Spike had been on top form
he’d have let him go and stood back to watch the carnage; it
was as good a sign as any that he had to get out, and right
now. He clumsily
pulled Spike around and rubbed the demon’s facial ridges.
“Change,” he urged, still breathless from
crying. “Change,
Spike, put the face
away. C’mon,
sweetheart, do it for
Xander.” Another
grimace of pain and the human façade was
restored. “Right,
good. Go and get
in the car.”
“Xander…”
“No, Dawn.”
“Can I…”
“No!” Xander
pushed Spike in the direction of the
door. “Spike, car,
now!” he shouted, and the vampire jerked back in surprise
before acknowledging the command with a dip of the head and
leaving the room.
Wiping his face on his sleeve, Xander went to Willow,
squeezing her shoulder
momentarily.
“Don’t wait up.”
Willow pursued Xander into the hall, watching unhappily as he
grabbed his coat and the duster from the rack and sped through
into the garage.
She heard the mechanism for the garage door hum into action,
and thirty seconds later the virtually inaudible growl of the
Mercedes’
engine took Xander away from
her. In her mind
she willed him not to drive into a wall.
An hour later Xander pulled into a woodland clearing and
parked up, sitting staring into the night, hands still
gripping the steering wheel as he kept a firm hold on the
familiar. He’d
remembered what Angel had said about Spike taking care of him
when he went crazy, and it hadn’t been the joke he’d taken it
as. What he’d lost
as he fell apart, Spike had
found. He’d felt
the vampire’s protectiveness, and even if it was pure instinct
he’d appreciated it and loved Spike even more for
it. As wary as the
vampire was of the slayer vibes he’d stood up to Buffy, and at
that point it had been fearlessly.
“Spike?” The
vampire turned in his seat to face
him. “It hurt when
you changed, didn’t
it? When your face
changed?”
Nod. “Was
it…” How did he
put this? He held
up one finger.
“Did it hurt
physically? Like
the wounds on your
back.” Two
fingers. “Or did
it hurt
emotionally?
Inside, making you feel bad because it was something you
shouldn’t do.”
Spike thought.
Held up one, then two
fingers.
“Both?” Maybe the
physical was because of the splinters, the second through
conditioning? “Can
you do it for me
now? Will it still
hurt inside if you’re doing it because I want you to?”
There was a long pause and, just when Xander was convinced
that Spike couldn’t change without the stimulus Buffy had
provided, the vampire slid into game face, flinching once
again at the physical pain.
“Hurt as much?”
One finger. That
was an
improvement. “Does
it feel good once you’ve changed
though? Do you
feel stronger?”
Shake. “Want to
change back?”
Nod. “Well, that’s
up to you, you don’t need my
permission.” The
demon slipped away and Spike reached out to take Xander’s
hand, bringing it to his face, wanting Xander to touch as he
had at the house.
Turning to get comfortable, Xander did as he was bidden,
lovingly stroking and watching Spike’s contentment, feeling
the vibration of the purr rather hearing it.
“I’m sorry about…back
there. I was
upset.”
Understatement of the year there,
Harris. “You
were good, you helped
me. Thank
you.” Brow to
hand. “You don’t
have to thank me for thanking
you.” A finger
under Spike’s chin brought his face
up.
“Spike… Do you
understand what death
is? Killing
is? It’s like
being asleep and never waking up
again.” Panicked
eyes. “Not for
you, I don’t mean for you, you’re safe, you have to trust me
and believe you’re
safe.” Eventual
nod. “I want to
know how you feel.
About Buffy.
Spike, would you kill
Buffy?” Spike
touched Xander’s
chest. “For
me? You’d kill her
for me?”
Nod. “You know I
don’t want you to, don’t
you?”
Nod. “So she’s
safe with you?”
Rock. “Providing
she doesn’t hurt
me?” Reluctant
nod. Xander smiled
at the vampire’s intrinsic desire to dispose of a slayer, but
was glad it was controllable: despite his earlier feelings he
needed to know that Buffy was safe.
…
It was the early hours before they re-entered Willow’s house,
grateful that the lights were out and all was silent: Xander
had worried about walking in to find a reception committee
complete with cloying concern and the kind of hypocritical
platitudes that would tempt him to unleash his temper if not
his vampire. But
they were able to warm up a couple of bags of blood then creep
into their room without a post-mortem of the evening.
Xander flopped onto his back, taking a deep breath and
stretching out across the mattress, trying to remember why
coming here had been such a great
idea. Spike
stalked up from the foot of the bed on hands and knees before
inelegantly collapsing on Xander’s
chest. Oh, yeah,
that was it.
Vampire, noise, misery, escape.
“Home soon,” he told
Spike. “Can’t take
much more of
this.” He
shuddered as Spike’s chilly hand found its way under his
clothes and onto his
stomach. “There
are better places with bigger
warmth. Try
getting into bed.”
Spike looked appealingly up at
Xander. “I know
you’re comfortable there now but you’re getting into
bed. Me
too. Move.”
Xander fell asleep quickly, missing the apologetic tap on the
door and the way it opened a
sliver. Spike
leant up protectively over
Xander. The door
opened a little further and Willow was silhouetted against the
warm glow from the hallway.
“Can I come in?”
Spike reached over and switched on the bedside lamp,
supplementing the dim light from the lamp on the
dresser. Xander
murmured in his sleep and turned away from the sudden glare
and toward the vampire, throwing his arm around the thin body
and re-settling.
Spike waited a moment then nodded at Willow, who crept into
the room and carefully sat on the edge of the bed, smiling at
Spike.
“I used to do this sometimes when you lived
here. I’d have
something on my mind, and you’d be getting in from your
nightly wanderings and you’d come in here and I’d wait until
you were in bed and then I’d come in and get under the covers
here…” She flipped
back the bedclothes at the end of the
bed. “And we’d
talk and between us we’d make things all right.”
Spike thought and
gestured. Willow
impishly snuggled under the covers at Xander’s feet, a light
prod encouraging him to move in Spike’s direction, which he
obligingly did with another indistinguishable murmured
comment.
“Was Xander okay
tonight? After you
left?”
Nod. “And
you? Are you
okay?”
Nod. “Do you have
any memories of being
here? You lived
here for a long
time.”
Shake. “I was
really sad when you
left. Scared
too.”
Frown. “Do you
remember when you first went to…the, umm…the bad
place?” Spike
tried hard for Willow but there was
nothing.
Shake. “I just
wondered how they managed
to… Never
mind. You’re here,
that’s good. Even
Buffy’s pleased, really, in this strange way she
has. She’s a bit
over-protective of Xander, but you understand that, don’t
you? She wants to
take care of Xander
too.”
Nod.
Pause. “You love
him, don’t you?”
Frown. “You know
that feeling you get inside, like he’s the best thing in your
life and you can’t live without
him?
Love.” Willow
watched the light dawn in Spike’s eyes and realised she’d
given him a name for what he was
feeling. He nodded
and almost smiled before leaning down to bury his face in
Xander’s hair.
“That’s good,” Willow sighed, content as she sank comfortably
into the tangle of
blankets. “That’s
good.”
…
Xander woke slowly, thick head perplexed by the messages his
body was sending.
Hmm…go to bed with a single vampire, who seems to have
either multiplied in the night, or become bendy enough to lie
in my arms yet keep his feet warm on my ass at the same
time. Xander
peeled himself away from Spike’s back and leant up to find
Willow curled up at the end of the bed, half-in and half-out
the covers, probably too warm because of the decidedly toasty
state of her feet.
He started to giggle, trying to stifle the impulse which,
naturally, only made it
worse. Willow
stirred and lifted her head with a questioning if somewhat
bleary look.
“Ten years ago I’d have paid for this,” Xander admitted,
letting the giggles out as Willow took in this particular
ménage a trois and narrowed her eyes at
him. Having
figured out exactly where her feet were she dug her toes in
sharply, making Xander jump and the laughter intensify, and
now she joined in, trying to shush them both at the same time.
“You’ll wake Spike up.”
Too late. At the
sound of his name the vampire sat up and turned to face them,
still very tired and delectably sorry for himself.
“Oh, God, not the
pout! I’m helpless
against the pout!
Sorry for the noise, sorry,” Xander laughed as he put out an
arm to bring the vampire back to him, happy as Spike
immediately
capitulated. A few
minutes of rearranging and they were all at the same end of
the bed: Xander on his back, Spike sprawled over him, purring
softly; Willow by her friend’s side, enjoying the rare
closeness, caressing the vampire’s hand where it lay on
Xander’s chest.
“This is what I came here for,” Xander admitted as he turned a
contented smile on his
friend. “Thanks.”
Willow smiled back, giving him an affectionate kiss on the
cheek under the watchful gaze of his vampire, before resting
her head against the spare shoulder and closing her
eyes. They slept.
…
“So, how often did you end up in bed with my vampire, ya
shameless slut?” Xander asked with a grin as they prepared
breakfast at three in the afternoon.
“You know me: good-time witch who can’t say no,” Willow
replied in kind.
There was a silence as Xander concentrated on the eggs as they
cooked, but when he switched off the gas he inquisitively
turned back to Willow.
“Umm…Wills…”
“No, don’t even think it.”
“Okay. Sorry.”
Willow went and linked her arm through Xander’s, speaking
confidentially.
“You want the
truth? I think he
was always faithful to you too.” |