Chapter 13: Decisions

"Honesty does not always bring a response of love, but it is absolutely essential to it."

- Ray Blanton

Giles came over to the house the next day announced, on a weekday afternoon just as Spike had begun helping Xander repair the dishwasher, which had been overheating and leaking water for days before Xander could take time off work to come fix it.

"Is Buffy here?" Giles asked when Xander opened the door and gestured him inside.

Spike nodded toward the stairs. "Sleeping, I think," he said.

Giles frowned as he pulled off his glasses to clean them. "At two in the afternoon?"

Spike frowned at the censure in the Watcher's tone. Their picnic had lasted until almost two, and then he had taken the bit back home while Buffy patrolled after that. And for that matter, one minute he was telling her to stand on her own, and the next he was peeved when she wasn't awake by a certain time? "I certainly don't question her," was all he said, though. Beside him, Xander nodded emphatically.

Putting his glasses back on, Giles stared at Spike suspiciously. "Right, well, I'll just go up to see if she's awake. I'd like to talk to her about a couple things."

Spike turned back to the kitchen. "Suit yourself. Just don't be surprised if she kicks you through the wall for waking her." Giles ignored him and started up the stairs.

Xander rejoined him in the kitchen, and the returned to working on the dishwasher in silence. Really, they seemed to get along best with absolutely no conversation. Unfortunately, his conscience told him he needed to take this opportunity and try to make things right between him and Anya, so reluctantly, he broke the silence. "Harris… while we're here, I wanted to talk to you."

The other man stopped feeling around inside the drain and turned to look at him warily. "What?"

"It's about you and the dem- Anya." He waited, but Xander just stood there, glaring at him suspiciously, and Spike finally came right out with it. "You're having second thoughts, aren't you?"

Xander almost dropped his wrench down the drain. "Of course not!" he almost shouted. He lowered his voice. "And even if I was, you'd be the last person I'd tell."

Xander still couldn't lie for shit, Spike was pleased to see. He didn't even need his supernatural senses to suss out these lies. "Bullshit, Harris. You have the face a man walking to the gallows whenever she talks about the wedding."

"I do not!" he retorted, then hesitated, looking around to make sure they were still alone. "But…um, hypothetically, if I did – which I don't - there's nothing I can do about it. I don't want to hurt her."

Spike snorted. "Want to or not, it doesn't matter. It'll come out in the end, even if you try to hide it, and that'll hurt her even more." Xander flinched, and he tried for a more compassionate tone. "When's it gonna be, mate? Were you planning on leaving her at the altar? Maybe wake up after five, ten, fifty years being miserable and turn to her and say, 'Good morning, honey, and did you know I never loved you?'"

"What?" Xander looked genuinely shocked. "Of course I love her. More than I've ever loved anyone."

It was Spike's turn to blink in confusion, his train of thought momentarily derailed. "Er…so you're saying you don't want to marry her because you love her too much?"

Xander shrugged and leaned against the counter, looking sheepish. "Well, it's just that she has like a checklist for everything...puppies, house, career, babies…" He wiped his brow. "See? It makes me break out in a cold sweat just thinking about it. I'm not ready for this, Spike! I'm 23, but I feel like I haven't progressed much beyond a 16-year-old's maturity level. There are about a thousand ways I can and will fuck this up."

Spike tilted his head to examine the other man. "Oh, so you've already decided, then," he said casually.

"Decided what?" Xander said, confused.

"That she's not worth the effort."

Xander stood up and crossed his arms in front of him. "That's about the exact opposite of what I said, fangboy."

Spike shook his head. "No, the way I see it is you're backing out of the fight before the first punch is swung." His lips twisted sardonically. "Very pragmatic, means you'll never have to deal with the pain of losing, because you'll never try."

Xander was breathing heavily through his mouth. "Listen, you… you demon, I've loved more deeply and-and passionately than you can imagine."

"Oh, I highly doubt that," Spike said dryly. "But regardless, you're being a right idiot, now. You'll either sign yourself up for a life of misery or just dump your girl right now because it might not work out. Bloody genius. I can see why you have such a good track record with the ladies."

Xander opened his mouth and shut it a few times. "I don't have any other options…" he said finally, visibly deflating.

"Of course you do, you bloody poofter," Spike snapped. Really, how hard was this to understand? "How about, oh, talking to your fiancée? Tell her what you told me. You love her but you're chickenshit." He softened his tone. Slightly. "Bloody hell, mate, this isn't rocket science. Worst case scenario, you lose the girl. Same as if you'd dumped her, and better than living a lie for years. Best case scenario? You two work it out and ride off into the bloody sunset together."

"I…" Xander trailed off. "I think…that actually made sense, Spike." He paused, still thinking. "In fact, I think it helps. Incredibly enough."

Spike rolled his eyes as knelt in front of the dishwasher again. "'Course it did, I've been watching Oprah."

The other man stared at him for a minute as if he wasn't sure he was joking, then actually gave him a weak smile. "I need to go talk to my girl, then. Get this over with before I chicken out. You're okay finishing up, right?" Not even waiting for an answer, Xander grabbed his keys and walked out the front door, leaving Spike to try to remember how the myriad dishwasher parts all fit together.

For the millionth time, he reminded himself that Xander's happiness (and, to a lesser extent, Anya's) meant Buffy's happiness, and that was his goal. Every day.

It was all for her, whether she ever realized it or not.

The resulting blowout from Xander's confession wasn't pretty, but Spike had a feeling it could have been much worse. Anya hadn't resumed her demon life, as Spike had thought she might, but she did say she needed space. Lots and lots of space, for an undisclosed period of time. (Even if she drunk dialed him, he was instructed to provide neither company nor sex, according to Xander.)

Spike gathered all this from continual discussions between all the residents and visitors to Buffy's house, as if this were all one long conversation that had different iterations and different participants each time.

Xander stayed at the Summers house most nights, looking like hell and walking around with a slightly shell-shocked expression.

"It was the right thing to do, Xan," Buffy assured him one afternoon while Dawn was still at school. She had taken the news of Xander's temporary-maybe-permanent breakup harder than Spike had expected, but she wouldn't have been Buffy if she didn't pull herself together for her friends, her own emotional state be damned.

Tara came in from the kitchen with a toasted sandwich and handed it to Xander with a warm smile, then pointedly sat down next to Buffy instead of Willow. "Relationships have to be based on trust and honesty, or they're meaningless," Tara agreed placidly, still not looking at Willow.

Buffy nodded her agreement, not seeming to notice the interaction between the witches. "Though… you might have talked to one of us first?"

"I did. I talked to Spike," Xander said hollowly, still holding the sandwich in his hands, untouched. Spike stilled. His biggest anti-fan had called him an "us". Who'd ever have thought?

"Oh," Buffy said in surprise, glancing at him.

"I was just going to try to ignore it, keep putting on a show, but he convinced me that wouldn't work. Would just hurt An more, in the end."

Buffy's expression was…strange. "Well… I agree," she said slowly, as if that surprised her.

"It was no one's fault, Xander. You did the best you could," Willow piped in, and there were murmurs of agreement all around.

Spike grimaced and finally stood up. There was being a good guy, and then there was being a blubbering sot who was apt to grow misty-eyed at diamond commercials if this kept up.

He started for the kitchen to grab a bag of blood and retreat to the basement, but was surprised to realize Buffy had followed him.

She put a hand on his arm. "Thank you," she said quietly. For a moment, he could only stare at her in surprise, and she continued, "I don't think anyone's told you yet, but thank you for looking out for my best friend. I've been so caught up with my own problems that I wasn't there when he needed me."

He tried to argue, but she held up a hand. "Really, Spike, don't try to sugarcoat it for me. Just…thank you for seeing what I couldn't. I don't think he'd have ever opened up so much to the rest of us…he was afraid 'girl loyalty' or whatever would mean we'd side with Anya no matter what."

"'Most everyone underestimates your loyalty, Slayer," was the only remotely intelligible response he could come up with.

She smiled. It was small but genuine. "I guess it's loyalty. The people who are important to me... they're the ones who give my calling meaning. I'd do anything for them. Sacrifice anything for them."

He dipped his head in acknowledgement, and she turned to go. After only a few steps, though, she stopped and turned to look at him, expression almost shy. "You make my shortlist too, you know, Spike. I don't know when it happened, but… you're on there too."

She hurried back to her friends before he could respond, leaving him to stare after her, shell-shocked and warm with pleasure.