TITLE: Ghost from the past 1/?
AUTHOR: Rilja (golf_clap@yahoo.com) PAIRING: Xander/Spike RATING: PG-13 DISTRIBUTION: Archives are ok, just tell me were it went so I can go look at it. Others please ask first. ARCHIVE: nummy.verticalcrawl.com DISCLAIMER: Spike, Xander and all things Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon. FEEDBACK: Yes! Please tell me if I did good, or bad. SPOILERS: No. SUMMARY: Xander receives a letter. NOTE: This occurs some years down the line. Xander has moved from Sunnydale. NOTE 2: //Xander's thoughts//.
Four days. Four long days since someone had brought the mail in and dropped it on the counter and that one pristine white envelope had been sitting there ever since. He knew it was for him. Hell, everybody on the sight knew it was his letter, since he was the only one to have his mail sent to the sight instead of his home. There it would usually never make it into his hands, and if it did, not without being read a couple of times. The crew's betting on when he would finally open the letter had already reached an appropriate high level. He already knew whom it was from. Still, he couldn't reach out and just look at it. //Did it have a return address, and in case it didn't could it be traced by the postmark?// The easiest way to find any of this out would be to just pick up the damned letter and look, but he couldn't, not today, maybe tomorrow.
He had no idea why *he* would send him a letter. //Yeah ok, so they had become somewhat friends over the time, but shouldn't the letter be to Buffy?// Then again maybe she'd gotten one to, maybe all of the gang had gotten one. He made a mental note to ask them when he made his weekly are- everybody-still-alive-and-I'm-fine call, pushed the thoughts out of his mind so not to saw his arm off, and spent the rest of his day concentrating on whether or not he had ordered enough nails and if the delivery would be late this week too.
Saturday morning and he had woken up early even though he usually slept well past noon on his few days off. The cause of his sleeping problem sat innocently on the table beside the phone. He'd finally picked up the letter and Matt had bought the rest of the crew a beer with his winnings. On the drive home he'd had to put it in his bag in the backseat to not have an accident while constantly glancing at it. When he'd gotten home, closed and locked the door, he'd picked it up, traced his name in that elegant script with his fingertip, turned it over and felt rather disappointed when he couldn't find a return address and the stamp was too smudged to be readable.
Now he was sitting beside the phone, too nervous to make the call. It wasn't the call in it self but the question that he'd had to ask. His stomach lurched, and after deciding that breakfast would have to come first he got up and went in to the kitchen after a quick stop to the bathroom.
Breakfast finished, dishes done and the washer merrily humming in the background, he thought about breaking out the vacuumer, but realized he was only postponing the inevitable and picked up the phone. The ringing on the other end sounded loud in his ear and he was beginning to think that it was to early to be calling at, he glanced over at the clock-radio, //7.03!? Maybe a *bit* early on a Saturday//, but then the phone was picked up and a sleepy Willow asked, "What?"
"Hi, it's me. Sorry to call so early, but you know me up at the crack of dawn." //And wasn't that a big fat lie.//
"Xander? What? You're never up this early if you don't have to. What happened? Are you all right?" Sleepiness instantly replaced by a worried concern that he hadn't realized how much he'd missed.
"I'm all right, nothing happened. Really." //Who am I trying to fool?// "Just wanted to hear from my favorite witch and couldn't wait one second longer." Goofy, harmless, joking Xander made a quick appearance.
"Xander, you know that don't work on me any more." But the worrying had lessened, and there was laughter in her voice now.
"I know. Worth a try though? So how's everybody? Dawnie got any new boyfriends, or girlfriends?
"Dawn is fine, no boy- or girlfriends on the horizon. You didn't call this early to hear about her love life. What's wrong?" The laughter had turned into concern once again, and he could almost see the beginning of a frown.
"Ok, something strange happened this week, I got a letter."
"From whom?" From worried to serious research mode in an instant.
"I don't know, I haven't opened it yet, but I have my suspicions. Did any of you get a letter?" Holding his breath, hoping both that they did and that they didn't.
"Humm. not that I know of, nothing out of the ordinary anyway, but Dawn brought in the mail Monday. I don't know if she got one, she hasn't said anything. Who do you think it's from? You said that you had your suspicions?"
"I don't know for certain. I just got this feeling. and the handwriting" //when I finally got the nerve to pick it up// "reminds me of, well it looks a lot like. I think it's from Spike." //There, I said it, laid it out in the open, bared it. whatever.//
"From Spike! What? Why? When? What?"
"You said that all ready." And there was laughter in *his* voice now.
"Are you sure? You have to open it. Why haven't you opened it?" Distress and a bit of worry crept into her voice again.
"I don't know, I didn't even pick it up until yesterday. I have no idea why he would write to me. And then I wanted to wait to hear if you had gotten letters too, but I guess no, unless Dawnie got one Monday."
"You could have called Monday, you know."
"I know." But he hadn't. He called Sunnydale every Saturday and it hadn't occurred to him that he could have called when he first got the letter instead of worrying over it all week. //So, I'm not the smartest guy on the block, sue me.// "Can you check if Dawnie got one too?"
"Sure. But I'm gonna wait a few hours, it is Saturday even if some of us rises at dawn." The pretended irritation and the amused tone made his heart ache and he wondered again why he had left.
"Sorry." And he was. He wouldn't have called this early if he had looked at the clock before dialing.
"It's all right. Take care of yourself. I worry about you, you know, and open that letter."
"I will. Bye Willow, love you. Tell the others I said hi."
"I will. Bye Xander, love you too."
After he had put the phone down his eyes settled on the envelope beside it. //.and open that letter. Right.// He was disrupted in his thoughts by the washer biping for some fabric softener. One cup of April freshness later and he were back in the chair stretching for the letter. It was probable just a small note about how Spike loved New York, London, Bombay? and was glad he got away from the Hellmouth. //Or it could say "I got the chip out and by the way I'm coming by on Saturday."// This made him retract his hand an inch before shaking it of, calling himself foolish and with a slightly embarrassed grin on his face reach for the envelope, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.
He stared dumbly at it until there were another more insistent knock and he got up to answer it, half expecting it to be Spike grinning like a madman and asking for an invite. It turned out to be Mrs. Hendel from next door who kindly reminded him to not use the washer this early since the water pipes were right in her bedroom wall. A stumbled apology and some pleasantries later he was back in the chair staring at the letter.
So, what did you think? Should I continue? golf_clap@yahoo.com
AUTHOR: Rilja (golf_clap@yahoo.com) PAIRING: Xander/Spike RATING: PG-13 DISTRIBUTION: Archives are ok, just tell me were it went so I can go look at it. Others please ask first. ARCHIVE: nummy.verticalcrawl.com DISCLAIMER: Spike, Xander and all things Sunnydale belongs to Joss Whedon. FEEDBACK: Yes! Please tell me if I did good, or bad. SPOILERS: No. SUMMARY: Xander receives a letter. NOTE: This occurs some years down the line. Xander has moved from Sunnydale. NOTE 2: //Xander's thoughts//.
Four days. Four long days since someone had brought the mail in and dropped it on the counter and that one pristine white envelope had been sitting there ever since. He knew it was for him. Hell, everybody on the sight knew it was his letter, since he was the only one to have his mail sent to the sight instead of his home. There it would usually never make it into his hands, and if it did, not without being read a couple of times. The crew's betting on when he would finally open the letter had already reached an appropriate high level. He already knew whom it was from. Still, he couldn't reach out and just look at it. //Did it have a return address, and in case it didn't could it be traced by the postmark?// The easiest way to find any of this out would be to just pick up the damned letter and look, but he couldn't, not today, maybe tomorrow.
He had no idea why *he* would send him a letter. //Yeah ok, so they had become somewhat friends over the time, but shouldn't the letter be to Buffy?// Then again maybe she'd gotten one to, maybe all of the gang had gotten one. He made a mental note to ask them when he made his weekly are- everybody-still-alive-and-I'm-fine call, pushed the thoughts out of his mind so not to saw his arm off, and spent the rest of his day concentrating on whether or not he had ordered enough nails and if the delivery would be late this week too.
Saturday morning and he had woken up early even though he usually slept well past noon on his few days off. The cause of his sleeping problem sat innocently on the table beside the phone. He'd finally picked up the letter and Matt had bought the rest of the crew a beer with his winnings. On the drive home he'd had to put it in his bag in the backseat to not have an accident while constantly glancing at it. When he'd gotten home, closed and locked the door, he'd picked it up, traced his name in that elegant script with his fingertip, turned it over and felt rather disappointed when he couldn't find a return address and the stamp was too smudged to be readable.
Now he was sitting beside the phone, too nervous to make the call. It wasn't the call in it self but the question that he'd had to ask. His stomach lurched, and after deciding that breakfast would have to come first he got up and went in to the kitchen after a quick stop to the bathroom.
Breakfast finished, dishes done and the washer merrily humming in the background, he thought about breaking out the vacuumer, but realized he was only postponing the inevitable and picked up the phone. The ringing on the other end sounded loud in his ear and he was beginning to think that it was to early to be calling at, he glanced over at the clock-radio, //7.03!? Maybe a *bit* early on a Saturday//, but then the phone was picked up and a sleepy Willow asked, "What?"
"Hi, it's me. Sorry to call so early, but you know me up at the crack of dawn." //And wasn't that a big fat lie.//
"Xander? What? You're never up this early if you don't have to. What happened? Are you all right?" Sleepiness instantly replaced by a worried concern that he hadn't realized how much he'd missed.
"I'm all right, nothing happened. Really." //Who am I trying to fool?// "Just wanted to hear from my favorite witch and couldn't wait one second longer." Goofy, harmless, joking Xander made a quick appearance.
"Xander, you know that don't work on me any more." But the worrying had lessened, and there was laughter in her voice now.
"I know. Worth a try though? So how's everybody? Dawnie got any new boyfriends, or girlfriends?
"Dawn is fine, no boy- or girlfriends on the horizon. You didn't call this early to hear about her love life. What's wrong?" The laughter had turned into concern once again, and he could almost see the beginning of a frown.
"Ok, something strange happened this week, I got a letter."
"From whom?" From worried to serious research mode in an instant.
"I don't know, I haven't opened it yet, but I have my suspicions. Did any of you get a letter?" Holding his breath, hoping both that they did and that they didn't.
"Humm. not that I know of, nothing out of the ordinary anyway, but Dawn brought in the mail Monday. I don't know if she got one, she hasn't said anything. Who do you think it's from? You said that you had your suspicions?"
"I don't know for certain. I just got this feeling. and the handwriting" //when I finally got the nerve to pick it up// "reminds me of, well it looks a lot like. I think it's from Spike." //There, I said it, laid it out in the open, bared it. whatever.//
"From Spike! What? Why? When? What?"
"You said that all ready." And there was laughter in *his* voice now.
"Are you sure? You have to open it. Why haven't you opened it?" Distress and a bit of worry crept into her voice again.
"I don't know, I didn't even pick it up until yesterday. I have no idea why he would write to me. And then I wanted to wait to hear if you had gotten letters too, but I guess no, unless Dawnie got one Monday."
"You could have called Monday, you know."
"I know." But he hadn't. He called Sunnydale every Saturday and it hadn't occurred to him that he could have called when he first got the letter instead of worrying over it all week. //So, I'm not the smartest guy on the block, sue me.// "Can you check if Dawnie got one too?"
"Sure. But I'm gonna wait a few hours, it is Saturday even if some of us rises at dawn." The pretended irritation and the amused tone made his heart ache and he wondered again why he had left.
"Sorry." And he was. He wouldn't have called this early if he had looked at the clock before dialing.
"It's all right. Take care of yourself. I worry about you, you know, and open that letter."
"I will. Bye Willow, love you. Tell the others I said hi."
"I will. Bye Xander, love you too."
After he had put the phone down his eyes settled on the envelope beside it. //.and open that letter. Right.// He was disrupted in his thoughts by the washer biping for some fabric softener. One cup of April freshness later and he were back in the chair stretching for the letter. It was probable just a small note about how Spike loved New York, London, Bombay? and was glad he got away from the Hellmouth. //Or it could say "I got the chip out and by the way I'm coming by on Saturday."// This made him retract his hand an inch before shaking it of, calling himself foolish and with a slightly embarrassed grin on his face reach for the envelope, only to be interrupted by a knock on the door.
He stared dumbly at it until there were another more insistent knock and he got up to answer it, half expecting it to be Spike grinning like a madman and asking for an invite. It turned out to be Mrs. Hendel from next door who kindly reminded him to not use the washer this early since the water pipes were right in her bedroom wall. A stumbled apology and some pleasantries later he was back in the chair staring at the letter.
So, what did you think? Should I continue? golf_clap@yahoo.com