SERIES: New Traditions (Part 3)
AUTHOR: Kylia (kylia_bug@yahoo.com)
DISCLAIMER: Nobody belongs to me, unfortunately. They belong to Joss & Mutant Enemy, and a few other people I don't know.
RATING: R
FANDOM: BtVS/AtS
SPOILERS: Everything up to Listening To Fear & The Trial
CATEGORY: Friendship, UST.
PAIRINGS: Xander/Angel
SUMMARY: Xander & Angel spend New Years together
DISTRIBUTION: My site (http://kyliasworld.cjb.net ), AENO, List archives, anyone else, ask, and you shall receive.
FEEDBACK: Please My muses need to be fed
AUTHOR'S NOTES: This is the follow up to 'Holiday Thing' and 'Mistletoe, Karaoke and Revelations' and the 3rd part in the 'New Traditions' series.
DEDICATION: To everyone enjoying this series, and especially Liz & Kaite. :)
**********
I close the lid on the large plastic container, listening to the telltale snap as it locks in place, and lift the box and set it down on top of the other two that have already been filled and closed.
"Where's Mr. Brood?"
I look up from my examination of the box at the sound of my friend's voice. I stare at her blankly for a second, trying to remember what she asked.
"Huh? Oh, he had a thing."
"A thing?" Cordelia smiles at my wording.
I shrug. "Yeah. He didn't say where."
Cordelia nods at me and she's got this odd look on her face.
"What?" I ask, getting nervous.
Cordelia just smiles at me and looks around the room, which seems somehow, more spacious than it did before we decorated.
I'm not really in the mood to figure out what it is she's thinking, so I decide I should just back up these boxes. I lift the one on the top and make my way towards one of the empty rooms on the bottom floor. Angel told me to store everything in there, for now.
Once all of the boxes have been moved into the room, I take a seat on the empty bed. All of a sudden I feel sort of winded, although I'm not really tired or anything.
I think it just sort of hit me. I'll be going home tomorrow. Giles called again last night, to find out what time I'd be back. I get the feeling he misses me. Either that or there's some catastrophe that he needs me for, which doesn't seem very likely since I'm usually not more than a waste of space, as far as slaying goes.
Maybe he's afraid all this time in Los Angeles will lead to someone's death. Either I would kill Angel, or he'd kill me. I don't have the heart to tell him that that isn't likely to happen. Not anymore. It probably never was.
I feel as though I've been in some weird dream state these last few days. I mean I've been here for eight days. A lot longer than I had originally planned. A lot longer than I could have imagined *wanting* to be anywhere near Angel. But yet here I am. And to make matters stranger, I find myself not really looking forward to leaving.
But such is my life.
I have spent this past week getting to know someone I never knew. A man, not a demon. Oh, he's still a vampire. That hasn't changed, and I really don't want it to. It wouldn't be him then. I know that according to that prophecy he'll become human one day, but I can't help but believe it won't really change who he is.
I wonder if this week will change things between us. I know it must. It already has. But that's now, here, what happens when I return to Sunnydale?
The next time we see each other, will it be like it was before? I don't think so. I hope not.
Shaking my head from my pointless thoughts I stand up. I have some errands to run before Angel comes back.
We didn't exchange any sort of gifts for Christmas, neither of us expecting to spend the holiday together, or even knowing each other well enough to get something that wouldn't seem contrived.
But after eight days spent almost solely in his company, I think I know enough to get him something appropriate. Something he might like. I have something in mind. Something practical even.
I think I'll have it engraved, so that just in case we never see each other again, he'll have something to remember me, and this week by.
***
"Can I help you sir?"
I look up at the woman who spoke. She's perky. Is that some sort of job requirement? I have been to half a dozen stores and every single one of the sales people seems perky.
This one looks to be about twenty, with the most artificial blonde hair I've ever seen. Worse than Spike's even. Her wide blue eyes are staring up at me. I remember she asked me a question and have to make the effort to be polite.
"No, thank you." I tell her, quite certain that there is nothing she can help me with.
I'm not really even sure why I'm here. I came to this insidious place, otherwise known as the mall, to find something for Xander. He's leaving tomorrow so this is our last night together. *Together*. I say that as though we are together, which we're not, of course. Not in the romantic sense.
Although, I must admit, I have given it some thought these last few days. Well in all honestly, the thought has been rolling around in my head ever since that mistletoe kiss last week.
We spent the week in pretty close quarters. Despite the size of the hotel, we always seemed to be in the same room at the same time. We did something I don't think I've ever really done before.
We talked.
Imagine that?
We talked about my life, pre-curse, post curse. Pre-Hell, post-hell. It was weird, talking about those things. Weird, but almost natural. He told me about Sunnydale, and the things that have gone on there.
He told me about Anya and how she left him because she woke up one morning and discovered her boyfriend was gay. When he first told me that, I thought it had been some sort of misunderstanding. But then he didn't deny it. Didn't even seem nervous by the suggestion. He actually seemed okay with it.
And that was it. Xander's gay. Kind of a revelation, only not.
Our topics drifted from our mutual friends, to our mutual enemies. I told him about everything that happened with Darla. He seemed to take it a lot more calmly that I would have thought. Just nodded his head and grinned and said, "thought you could get away from the Hellmouth, did you, Deadboy?" Then his voice dropped a little lower. "It always follows you. You will never be free!" Then he cackled like some sort of crazed villain from one of those B science fiction movies he made me watch.
I couldn't help but laugh.
I did a lot of laughing this week. A fairly new experience, but one I could get used to.
This has been a strange, but informative week. But tomorrow it ends. Which brings me back to why I'm here in the mall, searching for some gift, for my new friend.
I sigh wearily. It's obvious, I won't find it here.
I make my way back to the underground parking structure and have almost reached my car when a flash of color catches my eyes. There's a piece of paper lying on the ground. It's a soft blue color and looks as though it's flown off of one of the car's windshields. I pick it up, intending to throw it away.
However once I have it in my hands, I run a cursory glance over it and notice it's a flyer for a bookstore.
An occult book store.
That's when it hits me. I know what to get him.
I jog to my car, now eager to leave and find the address on this flyer.
****
"You want this engraved?" The man is staring at me strangely and I know he's got to be thinking that I'm some sort of psycho.
"Yes. Is that a problem?" I ask, hoping I look harmless, which of course I am. "It's a gift. For a friend."
"A friend?" The man asks me as he looks from me to the gift in question and back again. He looks as if he's about to ask something else but then changes his mind. "Okay. Wait here."
The man takes my gift into a room in the back along with the small form I filled out telling him what I want the engraving to say. I hear the sound of a machine turning on and I wait, rather impatiently for him to return.
Now that I've brought the gift here and am it engraved, I know there is no turning back. I wonder what he'll think when I give it to him. It's not your traditional Christmas gift, but we don't seem to do that traditional thing very well anyway. I hope he likes it.
When the guy returns, I pay and leave, anxious to get back to the hotel and wrap it before Angel comes back. I hope he likes it. This particular gift has history. Maybe I'll tell him about it some day.
Once I make it back to the hotel, I run up to the room I've been staying in and barricade myself in. I sit on the bed for a few minutes and look at the box, trying to decide if this is really a good idea.
I mean. It's a gift. For Angel. Will he read something into this small gesture? And do I want him to? When I went out looking for it, I kept telling myself it was just a belated Christmas gift. But is it more?
Is there something else I want to happen here, other than this new, unexpected friendship?
And if there is, am I ready for what might happen after I give this to him?
Things will change. Maybe. Probably.
But is that a good thing?
I can now say, with some amount of honesty that Angel and I are friends. What will happen if he takes this gift and reads, correctly, that maybe it might mean something else?
I don't have the answers to any of these questions, but wrap the box anyway. In for a penny, in for a pound, as the expression goes. Its too late to return it now anyway, if I wanted to. And I realize with alarming clarity that I don't.
I don't want to return it, and I don't want to leave tomorrow without even attempting *something*.
****
"Knock knock."
I turn around to see Cordelia peeking her head through my bedroom door.
"Come in." I tell her absently as I return my attention back to the package sitting on my desk.
"Ooh, a gift." She exclaims as she sees what I am looking at. "For Xan?" She grins at me in this way which I know to be trouble.
I nod, trying to decide if this really was a good idea. Buying him a gift. That will mean *something* although I'm not sure exactly what.
"What is it?" She asks me as she sits down on the edge of my bed.
"A book."
"A book?" She crinkles her nose at me. "For Xander?"
"Maybe." I tell her, not sure if I should give it to him or not.
"So" She begins, and when I look at her she has this odd expression on her face. "What's up with you and Xander?"
I turn around in my chair to face her. "What do you mean?" I ask her, aware she isn't buying my 'confused' act.
Cordelia rolls her eyes at me. "You too are pretty cozy." She tells me.
"Like you and Gunn?" I ask her, and too late I realize exactly what it is I have said.
Cordelia grins at me. "Exactly."
Before I can say anything else, like denying what it is she must be thinking, she's stood up and made her way over to the desk.
"A book huh?" She's grinning again. "I saw him checking out Wes' collection this week. I see I'm not the only one." And then she's gone. But before she gets too far down the hallway, I hear her stop and speak, just loud enough for me to hear. "He'll love it."
I find myself smiling, because I know she's right.
****
I sink into the couch and close my eyes. I'm stuffed. We just had dinner and I don't think I've eaten so much food in one sitting that didn't consist of Twinkies or Ho-Hos.
It's completely dark behind my closed eyes but I can feel him standing over me. When I open my eyes he's holding up a wineglass. But it isn't filled with wine. Instead it's filled with a milky looking substance. I take the glass and sniff it once, trying to determine what it is.
When I recognize the scent I grin. "Eggnog?"
He smiles back at me as he sits down next to me and I'm again amazed by his smile. I never knew he *could* smile, much less that it was such a nice one.
Remembering my gift, I jump off of the couch, nearly spilling my eggnog. I run upstairs to get the package before I forget again, or lose my nerve. When I return, Angel's still sitting on the couch, right where I left him, but he has this guarded expression on his face, although I'm not sure what's caused it.
I hold up the package. "Merry Christmas, Angel."
His eyes widen as he takes in the size of the box. For a minute I think he's going to tell me he doesn't want it, but then his eyes crinkle slightly in amusement. "It's New Years, Xander. Christmas was *last* week."
I shrug as I flop back down next to him. New Year. New tradition." I pause for a second. "Besides we didn't really know each other that well last week."
He nods his understanding and I'm sure he *does* understand exactly what I'm trying to say.
"No we didn't." He agrees and he sits there staring at the large box for a few minutes. Just as I'm about to tell him to open it he stands up and leaves the room.
Now, I guess it's my turn to sit here alone. I wonder where he's gone and whether he was upset by the gift, although it didn't really seem that way. When he returns, he's carrying a box of his own, wrapped. Although this one is only about a third of the size of the one I gave him. Which I'm kind of glad of considering what it is I gave him.
"I got you something too." He tells me as he hands the box over and sits down next to me.
We sit there in silence looking at our respective gifts for several long seconds. We're so close our thighs are almost touching and I am suddenly aware of a current of electricity running through the room.
Something is happening here. I'm not entirely certain I know what. I'm not entirely certain I care.
"Are you going to open it?" He asks me.
"You first." I take the coward's way out, almost afraid to see what he's gotten me.
*****
I take the bow and ribbon off of the large box, wondering what it is Xander has bought me. It's heavy, and I can't think of anything that he would have gotten me. I can't actually imagine him going out into the stores to shop for a two hundred-year-old vampire.
But then I couldn't really imagine myself braving the *mall* to get him a gift either. Not before today. Not before this week. Life, or unlife in my case, is surprising sometimes.
Just as I'm about to lift the lid off of the box, one of his warm hands descends on top of one of mine.
"I hope you like it." He whispers, and I can almost feel his nervousness.
He lets go of me and I find myself feeling oddly bereft, but push the thought away as I remove the lid. There's heavy brown wrapping paper inside and I move it away to see what my new friend is so nervous about.
I look at the gift and then over to Xander and then back to the gift again. I'm sure a look of shock is on my face. "You bought me an axe?" I ask him, astonished.
"You don't like it?" He asks, his nervousness seeming to grow.
I lift the weapon up and examine it closely. It's nice. Really nice. Looks to be expensive too. It's old. If I were to guess, I'd say it was older than me, but that's just a guess. Whoever owned it before took excellent care of it.
"It's beautiful." I tell him honestly.
When I turn to look at him, he's staring at me with this unusual expression, almost as if he isn't sure whether to believe me or not. "Really. Where did you find it?" I ask him.
Xander looks away, almost as if he is embarrassed. He mumbles something that I don't quite understand.
"What?" I ask, now more curious than ever.
"It doesn't matter." He tells me quietly.
I can tell there's more to this axe than he's saying, but I don't press it. Instead I turn over the weapon, and continue my examination. I notice there's an inscription engraved in one side of the blade.
"Deadboy, You fight because its what you do. Your redemption is your own."
I read the words aloud and am touched by the thought and meaning behind them. We spent several hours one evening talking about the things I've done, who I have become and how what I'm doing now effects those around me.
"Thank you." I look up at him, and I'm sure my emotion must be showing in my eyes because he looks away quickly, embarrassed. "You're welcome."
"Open yours." I tell him before an uncomfortable since can descend upon this room.
He rips the paper off just like a little kid, and I find myself chuckling at the display.
Once the box is opened and he sees what's inside, he goes really still and for a minute I think he hates it but then this huge grin splits his face.
"Angel I don't know what to say." He looks up at me and I think he might cry for a second.
"I saw you looking through some of Wesley's texts." I tell him by way of explanation.
He's nodding now. "Yeah. I I never expected this. Thank you." He reaches over to hug me then.
I freeze momentarily, not because I am uncomfortable with the gesture, but because I'm not. Then I wrap my arms around him and whisper in his ear. "Merry Christmas, Xan."
He turns his head slightly and our faces are almost touching. Close enough to kiss, if I move just *that* much closer. And so I do.
My lips move over his and it feels like it's the most natural thing in the world to be doing, as though we have done this thousands of times before. It's nothing like our kiss from last week. That one was closed mouthed, although not chaste. This one though, this one is so many things that one wasn't, yet so much more.
His lips open under mine and my tongue is seeking, and gaining entrance. I sweep the inside of his mouth and savor his taste. His warm mouth seems like a scorching fire compared to my own cooler body temperature.
Eventually he pulls away slightly, and he takes a deep lungful of oxygen, his eyes lock with mine. "Wow." He whispers, his voice hoarse.
I run my fingers down the side of his face. "I'm going to miss you." I tell him honestly.
His eyes widen and he seems surprised by this. "Me, too, Deadboy."
He moves away from me and scoots over just a little bit. To someone watching, the movement may appear to be a form of rejection, but it isn't, and I don't take it that way.
****
I'm sitting here, recovering from the kiss of a lifetime, and I find myself short of words. I don't know what just happened here, but I'm not too eager to analyze it either.
I tear my eyes away from his face and look back down at the gift he's given me. "Brialt's complete guide to demonology: fact and fiction: Myth and legend". I saw the book referenced in one of Giles' books but I've never actually seen it myself. I don't think the G-man even has it.
But that's not what touches me so deeply about it. I have an interest in demonology. I have from long before the time I met Buffy, although then, it was more in the realm of fantasy. But these past few years, dealing with whatever Hell deems fit to spit out, my interest has grown.
I don't think anyone even knows about it. It's not as though I keep my interest a secret. Not really. But no one seems to pay that much attention. I've got this reputation for being the one without the brains, or muscle, or anything else. It's not really their fault. I've never done anything to alter that perception.
And the truth is, I don't really want them knowing. I enjoy helping Buffy fight, slay the evil, but it always seems as though there's been something missing. Something that should be there, or something I should be doing, but I'm not. I guess I was afraid that if people knew exactly how much about demonology I really do know that I would be counted on more. Expected to do what I'm doing now, but more.
Maybe I just didn't want to see the astonished looks on their faces when I could identify some demon that Giles couldn't. I don't want to be reminded of how people see me.
That's what surprises me so much about
this gift. During this past week, Angel and I have talked about just about everything.
From Buffy and Anya to Darla and Drusilla, to redemption, poor decisions, and
the nuisance Spike likes to make of himself. But never once did I ever mention
my secret interest in demonology.
For him to have noticed says a lot about his powers of observation. And even
more about where this might be leading.
"Xander?" His voce startles me and I realize I've been silent for way too long.
"Sorry. I was just thinking." I smile at him, hoping to convey that everything is good. Better than good even.
I pick up my eggnog and hand him the glass of bloodwine he set down on the table. "Merry Christmas Angel."
"Happy New Year." He tells me, a smile curving his lips.
"New Year, New Traditions." I tell him, knowing that it will be.
We sit in silence for several long minutes, each lost in our own thoughts. He finally reaches out a hand and clasps it in one of my own, standing up and pulling me to my feet.
We walk up the stairs quietly, and I'm not really sure what's going to happen, if anything. When he reaches the door to my room he opens it and I walk in, but he remains outside.
He steps closer to me, leaning in and before I can even think about what I'm doing, I meet him half way and touch my lips to his. This kiss isn't like the previous two. It isn't intense or searching, but tender in its simplicity. It seems to speak in a language all its own.
When we pull away, his lips leave a trail down my jaw to my neck, finally settling near my ear. He kisses my lobe and then speaks softly. "I want you. Think about it. Think about us."
He pulls away and then shuts the door quietly, leaving me to my own tumbled mass of thoughts.
*****
By the time I reach my own room, I'm nearly shaking with the intensity of what almost happened here tonight. What *could* have happened here tonight. But he isn't ready, and neither am I.
If this week has shown me one thing, it's that there is more to him than I could ever have imagined. Wherever we go from here, I don't want it to be about sex. Not *just* about sex. For that to happen, we need time. Time to think, time to feel. Maybe time to just be.
He'll be leaving in the morning, and that's okay. Because he'll be back.
Its something I know. Just like the blood I need to survive and the air he needs to breathe, I know he'll return.
It's a New Year, and we have started our own traditions.
******