As Xander came to, he first noted that he was in a bed. It didn't seem like he should be in a bed...
He tried as best he could in his groggy state, to remember exactly how he had gotten there. As usual memories came flooding back in a specific order... And the first memory to surface took hold and wouldn't let him go. He had left Anya. At their wedding ceremony, he had left her!
He saw perfectly the heart wrenching image of her in his mind, her in her wedding gown, looking gorgeous, with tears streaming down her pretty face. His stomach did flip flops as he remembered looking from that tearstained face to his father in another screaming match with his mother. That lead to a steady stream of older memories, all cutting into him. All reasons for why he had left...
He wanted to believe it had all been some nightmare he was just waking up from...but of course, that was impossible. As impossible as changing the past...
He shut his eyes tightly against the images, only to have others, unbidden come into his mind's eye. The visions that the demon had shown him.
Particularly the last vision. When he came at Anya, crying out in rage and then... Well, he didn't know what had happened next, but it felt like something nightmarish must have followed. He didn't know how many times he had thought of this...he wasn't even sure how long it had been now since the wedding...
Xander only knew that each time, the memories chilled him and horrified him just as much as when the demon had first deceived him, even more so. He felt a sudden, overwhelming queasiness overtake him.
Pulling himself over to the side of the bed, he lost all the vending machine junk that had made up the whole of his non-nutritionally balanced meals for some time now, onto the floor below.
"Oh...bloody hell," came Spike's exasperated tone.
After the task of emptying his stomach was done, he lifted his head slowly and looked up past the foot of the bed. To his great dismay he saw Spike sitting in a chair, almost obscured in the darkness of a corner. The room...if you could call it a room, it was more like part of a cavern, was lit only by two lamps, one by the bedside and one near the chair where Spike appeared to have been reading a book.
Now there was an appropriate look of disgust on each face. Spike, because he'd just seen Xander throw up all over one of his new rugs. And Xander because he had just realized he wasn't still in the motel. He was in Spike's crypt...in *Spike's bed*?
'Perfect,' Spike thought. He'd worked so hard on fixing the place back up after Buffy and Captain Cardboard's little game of GI Joe... He had worked almost non stop on it. He'd gotten new furniture, new lamps, new accessories to make his home more "homey" and oh yeah,...new area rugs. It was still a little charred around the edges but it was starting to look pretty decent again and now, there was Xander, barfing up some disgusting assortment on his new stuff. 'Figures.'
"Hope you realize I just got that," Spike explained testily. "You owe me a new area rug."
Xander didn't answer. He was stuck on another thought.
"Am I in your bed?"
Spike almost smiled.
"Yes," he spoke to the boy slowly, drawing the word out, as if he were talking to someone who was mentally ill.
Not that he was sure that 'mentally ill' didn't entirely apply to the Harris boy.
"The bed that you...did your...exercising in?"
Actually, it wasn't the same bed. He'd had to get a new one after the...incident. Had to hire a bunch of bloody people, well not so much people as demons (people asked too many questions), just to get it down there, along with the rest of the furniture and new stuff he had acquired...
Still,... it was irresistible. The look on Xander's face... He had seen him swallow hard before saying the word 'exercising' and he'd almost lost it.
Spike delivered the line with his best poker face, yet his eyes could not hide the glint of mischief and surpressed laughter.
"Well,...I was on the other side."
At that moment, Xander jumped out of the bed as if it had caught fire, narrowly missing the ruined area rug on the floor below.
"I think I'm going to be sick again."
"Right. Should've known you would blame me for you upchucking all over my stuff."
"Hey!," Xander protested. He looked around warily for a moment, as if he had began the protest without knowing where it was going. His mind was fuzzy... 'How did I get here?' Instead he blurted out, "Why am I here in the first place!?"
"Oh I see, you're also going to blame me for you getting attacked by *two* Kolariah demons and me saving you *twice* then carrying your sorry carcass out of the rain before you got attacked again." This time Spike spoke without looking up at Xander, instead studying the book he held, his voice calm and casual with just a touch here and there of his almost trademark sarcasm.
Xander considered this, just beginning to remember what had happened. The thing with the red scales and with goo...not exactly pleasant. The and the second one was...even less pleasant. His mouth was poised to say something, but it never came out as more than a sputtering sound.
Spike continued.
"How many times have I saved you now, anyway? I lost track after thirty-five or so..."
"*You* have *not* saved me thirty-fi--"
"And you know, one would think a person would eventually gain some sort of appreciation. I mean, I'm not talking about actually being treated like a person, instead of like that rug you just ruined...but a simple thank you every now and then, that would be--"
"Thank you," Xander grumbled, cutting off Spike's rant. The expression was spoken so low that Spike almost thought he had imagined it.
And it caught him completely off guard.
He stared at Xander, setting his book down on the table beside him absently. He said nothing for...well, it must've been a record for a Spike/Xander verbal sparring match.
"What did you say?," he asked finally, not able to believe without hearing it again.
Xander sighed. He had only been out for a little less than an hour. Spike could still hear the steady rains outside. Xander looked tired and pale and...devastated really. Completely conquered. 'But conquered enough to say...?'
"I said thank you. Now could we just drop it?" He really hadn't wanted to say it, but he had. 'Anything really *can* happen in Sunnyhell...,' Spike thought, amused at the irritation he could hear beneath the fatigue in Xander's tone. The boy sounded even more exhausted and distressed than he looked. That was hard to believe considering Xander now looked about five shades paler than Spike did, a sheen of sweat covering him from his fitful sleep and it looked as though it were taking all his strength just to stand up straight.
He was sick, tired and mentally wrecked. Spike felt like he could relate even though he knew vampires really couldn't be sick quite in the way that Xander was right now,...from a mixture of heartbreak, stress, fear, too much junk food on the stomach and too little sleep. But it was only the last two that did not contribute to Spike's own periodic bouts of sickness, the worst of which had been the weeks immediately following Buffy's death, that past summer.
"Harris, why don't you just lay yourself back down. I do wash the sheets you know." He was actually half smiling now, unable to believe Xander Harris had actually thanked *him*, 'the evil thing,' as he walked over towards the ladder. "In fact, I'll have to change them again today since you got 'em all wet and dirty... Hey, maybe you wouldn't mind doing that while you clean up that mess beside the bed." In passing he tossed Xander a stack of clean, dry clothes. "And you might want to change too."
Spike threw a glance back Xander's way as he started up the ladder, only to see him swaying. Xander then looked down to the rug he was about to clean and his hand flew over his mouth. The other hand dropped the clothes he had been holding. He became even more discolored.
"All right then!," Spike began quickly, not wanting to waste any time, as he rushed back down the ladder. "On second thought...let's get you something to calm your stomach before you ruin *all* my new stuff." He had really put too much time, energy and money into erasing the damage done, at least to his crypt, during Riley Finn's short stay, to let that happen. He made his way up the ladder after Xander, in case the boy should actually faint, fall back down and crack open his noggin. Slayer would never believe him if Xander managed to kill himself in his crypt. She'd stake him for the murder before he could get two syllables out in explanation.
Spike took Xander over to the mini refrigerator that he kept in the corner of the upper level of his crypt. Opening it up, he took in what he had to offer other than some fresh pig's blood which he guessed Xander wouldn't enjoy hearing about right now.
"So what'll it be?" In answer to Spike's question Xander just stared into the frige blankly. Spike continued undaunted. "Let's see,... I have some soda water, that should help a bit. And you need to eat something bland to settle your stomach. No more spicy Cajun chips or those cheese doodles for you." Xander swallowed hard, almost losing whatever was left in his stomach at the mere thought of eating those things again.
Spike took a small bottle of soda water out of the mini frige and handed it to Xander. There was a box on top of the mini frige, he went for that next. "And here's some wheatabits. Those should do you up good and proper. No more Xander to clean out of the carpets." Xander was about to take his soda water and wheatabits back down the ladder with him so Spike continued in haste, steering him away from the passage and over to the sarcophagus. "Why don't you just stay here until you down that and feel a little less like vomiting the rest of your stomach lining up. At least this is easier to clean." Xander shot him a look, but with difficulty hoisted himself up onto the sarcophagus, opened the soda water and took a tentative sip.
"K then Whelp, you're all set. I'll be back... Want to watch the telly?" At his own words Spike almost shuddered. He was being all accommodating and considerate. It was disgusting, really.
'Why the hell am I doin' this? The whelp hates me! Always has, always will, made that clear enough...*And* the feeling's *mutual*! I don't bloody care what he thinks! I should toss him out into the rain instead of cater to him like I'm some nancy boy nursemaid!'
Xander's eyes were far away as he took out a wheatabit and popped it into his mouth, following it with a swig of the soda water. It did seem to make his stomach feel a bit less raw.
"Why do you have things like soda water and wheatabits, Spike?"
Spike shrugged moving over to the ladder. In truth, the soda water had been for Buffy, when she'd been feeling bad. With all the stress she'd been under lately, he liked to keep things around to make her feel better. Soda water was just one weapon against Buffy sickness and blues in a massive arsenal. That same arsenal had also included anything from liquor, to ice packs to well,... himself. But he decided Xander really wouldn't appreciate hearing that. So he stuck with half-truths.
"Just like 'em. Pretty simple, really."
"Yeah but... I mean, vampires usually just drink blood, right? Angel didn't eat food...or drink anything other than blood...," Xander thought a moment. "In fact, he was really testy about people eating around him. Like it pissed him off or something. He wasn't loud and all 'get out of my face' about it, but it wasn't too hard to pick up on. I just always figured he,...well, vampires in general, couldn't eat." Spike seemed to consider Xander's words in the short pause that followed. It brought back questions he had pondered before, many times. But asking those questions never got him anywhere.
"Well, good thing for you then I'm not like Peaches, huh whelp?"
Xander didn't catch the meaning for a moment. He thought about telling Spike to stop calling him 'whelp,' but the soda water felt good on his sensitive stomach and before he knew it the moment had passed.
Spike spoke up again.
"Does it help?"
"Sure as hell better than blood, so...," he glanced at Spike to see the bleached vamp with a pointed expression on his face and Xander almost smiled at him. "So okay,... I give you that. I'm glad you're not like Angel. Good to know Evil Dead always has a plentiful stock of wheatabits available."
"Damn straight." Spike said, perfectly serious. "Those things are bloody wonderful." Then he disappeared down into the lower level, leaving Xander alone to contemplate...all those things he *didn't* want to contemplate.
Visions of Anya in tears and his father threatened, but he pushed them away. In desperation, he chose to contemplate other things. Such as how Spike had ended up so different from his sire...and who was his sire anyway? ... Angel had said he was, but then Buffy had mentioned Dru? ... Spike was pretty different from either one of them ... And what were the odds that any other vampire alive or, ... unalive, had a mini frige.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty-some minutes later Xander had consumed about five generous hand-fulls of Spike's 'bloody wonderful wheatabits' and finished off his bottle of soda water. He almost hated to admit, that having done that in addition to having been able to distract himself from the events of the past several days, in truth, the past... nine or ten years since he had been old enough to take notice what went on in his home, made him feel surprisingly better for the moment.
Had it only begun nine or ten years ago? Seemed like fifty... Perhaps it had only started then, but... He was remembering again. He felt an alarm go off in his head. 'Think happy thoughts...well, no happy thoughts to be had...think...weird thoughts, like about how Spike likes wheatabits...possible future cracks I could make about Spike liking wheatabits...' 'How old was I the first time I actually saw him try to hit her?' The alarm sounded again as the unwelcome thought pushed into his mind and Xander hopped off the sarcophagus.
He made his way down the ladder into the cavernous underground section of Spike's home, as he continued to try *not* to think about the things he was thinking about. But his mind seemed hell bent on making him crazy.
Before he noticed Spike, he realized that the bed he'd woken up in now had fresh sheets on it. The other set had been blood red and these were...white. The idea struck him as odd, a creature of the darkness sleeping in white sheets, munching on wheatabits while watching daytime soaps. If it had not been for the war waging inside him, he would have chuckled at the image.
He also realized that Spike had cleaned the Xander out of the throw rug. 'Hey I didn't ruin it after all... Not that I'd care. I mean, he's evil. He deserves his rugs to be ruined! ... Man, am I normally this lame? It must be sleep deprivation. Yeah, that's it.'
He saw Spike then, over in the corner near where he'd been sitting before, at a bookshelf. Looked like he was straightening up. Or maybe hiding something. He turned then, not seeming too surprised to see Xander standing at the foot of the ladder. Xander had been hoping to sneak up on the chipless wonder and see exactly what he was up to. 'Stupid vampires with their stupid vampire hearing...' He needed something interesting, to distract him. He just couldn't deal with Anya or his father or what he'd done. Surely, if Spike was hiding something away, it had to be interesting.
"Well, I remembered how you commented on my poor housekeeping last you visited and well, it just hurt me so," Spike explained sarcastically upon seeing Xander's curious expression. Really, he was still in the process fixing everything up from the Finn fiasco. He wondered if Xander had even noticed the charred look of his humble abode...probably not. He was too worried by other matters.
Any fool could see that the boy had a desperate battle raging inside him. There were demons inside him that he was struggling to push away, demons that wanted to destroy him.
"Yeah, yeah," Xander started to feel a twinge of something that made his skin crawl. It was...Guilt...about Spike! No couldn't be... It was just,...badness. Badness for what? For having Spike save his life, clean his vomit, feed him...and all for what reason? Xander couldn't actually believe that Spike didn't have some ulterior motive for all this. But as much as he searched his brain, he could think of nothing he would gain...other than perhaps telling his friends what a pathetic mess he'd been, though they would probably see that for themselves in time. 'Maybe he just gets a kick out of watching me miserable.' There that was it. Made perfect sense.
"How are you feelin' now?" Damn it. Didn't Spike know how disconcerting that was when he acted like he actually cared. How *wrong* was that?! It was enough to give Xander nightmares.
"Oh, I'm just dandy! I'm spending the night of what *should* still be my honeymoon in Evil Dead's crypt. Now *that's* what I'd call a dream come true!" The familiar sarcasm between them acted as strange comfort. Xander went on, pretending to be talking to himself. "And I thought things couldn't get any worse." Spike had his back to Xander, picking out a book from the shelf after some consideration. He rolled his eyes at Xander's comments.
Turning, he began to make his way over to the ladder again. On the way picking up the same stack of clothes that he had given to Xander earlier. He tossed them over. Xander caught them more easily this time.
"Here's the clothes you dropped while you were swooning a while ago."
"I was not swooning!"
"Right," Spike chuckled.
Xander examined the clothes Spike had given him to change into for the first time. It did sound like a nice prospect to get out of the dirty, uncomfortable tux that he'd been wearing for days now. It would be good to be dry again. And these clothes actually weren't black...they kinda looked like...
"Hey, these are my clothes!"
A while later, once Xander had gotten comfortable in his new/old clean clothes, had settled into the bed with crisp white sheets, had some sleep, and after Spike had gotten his fill of soaps in for the day, the two found themselves sharing each other's company once again, down in the lower level of Spike's crypt. Spike was rummaging through a pile of books in the corner and tossing some into a discard pile, those that were too burned to be salvageable and the others he placed carefully in the shelves.
Xander had awoken to this. He watched Spike curiously as the vampire spent considerable time on some books, brushing them off carefully and flipping through the pages quietly, an almost wistful expression gracing his features.
Xander had to wonder about the burned books. He started studying the room...
"So what Spike, you forget to put out your cigarette one night when you went to bed?," Xander asked sarcastically, getting up and walking over next to where Spike stood. He knelt next to him, over the considerably large pile of burnt and semi-burnt books on the floor.
"Yeah," Spike answered dryly, not wanting to admit the truth. Not wanting to humiliate himself further by saying, 'No, it was the slayer and her solider boy. Captain Cardboard himself came by to push me around and, of course, Buffy joined in, taking his side over mine, after having just come in and shagged me conveniently, even getting me to tell her once again that I love her, like the stupid whipped bitch of a vampire I am. So he threatens me, while she insults me. And me all the time, completely helpless against them as they search my place. Then they blow up everything. After that, just for good measure, Buffy comes back to tell me it's over between us. Not as if there was anything between us to start with by her view of it, other than just shagging each other senseless.'
During his internal rant he had totally missed it when Xander had asked him if he was serious. He was once again, hopelessly lost in his mind as he relived his most recent humiliation and betrayal.
Just when he had thought maybe he was getting closer... She had asked him to tell her that he loved her. She'd *never* done anything but tell him *not* to tell her that. Turns out, it was just the next level of her using him. He had finally figured it out in retrospect.
"Hey Spike! You really zone out on those books don't ya? What's the deal?" Xander was feeling a little better physically and a little embarrassed at the same time over all that had happened since he was attacked by the demon with the red scales and the pink goo in the cemetery. He wanted to distract Spike from any talk about it, or about what had happened at the wedding. He didn't know why he didn't just leave now. He wasn't even sure what time it was or exactly how long he'd been sleeping or how long he'd been there.
But where would he go? Back to the motel? To sit by himself and think over and over again of what a fool he had become? To contemplate in silence the possibility that it might be fate...that he would, no matter what, end up just like his father? His grandparents had been just like his parents, after all. Maybe it was just this never-ending vicious cycle... To wonder how he could ever accept the risk of getting as close to someone he loved as he had been about to with Anya? To remember all those things he'd rather forget. So many things he wanted to forget.
Not to mention the fact that the others were probably out looking for him now. The thought of facing them still terrified them. He didn't know if he'd ever felt so ashamed of himself. And he couldn't even form the words inside his head to explain to them what he had done and more importantly, why.
One thing that kept coming to his mind was Willow. Willow, his best friend in the whole world, since they were...what? A year old? She would never forgive him for not confiding in her. Well, she *would* forgive him...that was just Willow, but she would always be hurt about the fact that he hadn't trusted her enough to let her know. There were so many things she didn't know. She knew his parents weren't exactly...blissful together. But she'd never known about how bad things got. He'd kept her away from that. To protect her...or to protect himself, the latter felt more true, even though he reasoned the first to be his actual reason.
It was true however, that he didn't want her to worry for him. He could handle himself. And on those occasions when he had been hit, hurt in some way...it had been easy enough to make up a lie. He'd lied to Willow. She would never understand that either. Never understand the shame he felt at his father's words to him.
His father who had challenged him to fight, whenever he would try desperately to take up for his mother. His mother, in turn would always defend his father during these times. He never understood it. *Why* she defended him, even when she was using extra concealer every day to cover up her bruises? ... Even when she knew that he had hurt both of them...
After time, he'd just come to accept it, most days. It was all he knew, after all. His mom said nothing was wrong with their family, when Xander would raise the question to her. If she wanted that kind of life, maybe she knew what was best for her. He was just a stupid loser anyway. His father was right about that,... and the weak part...right on the money.
No wonder he'd been so desperate to be a part of the scooby team, even if it got him killed. For once he just wanted to prove his dad wrong. Just once he wanted to not believe all the insults and cruel statements from his father that he'd endured all his life. Maybe if he could prove himself, things would finally change. That's what he had thought anyway. 'What an idiot,' Xander thought of himself in contempt. Nothing had ever changed.
None of his friends would understand why he had kept it a secret. They would see him for who he really was then. They would see the boy his father saw whenever he looked at him. He would be weak to them. Weaker even than they had considered him before. Wasn't it considered mental to allow yourself to be beaten, abused...verbally and physically...to know further, that it was also happening to someone you loved,... even if she didn't really love you, and to still do nothing! They would think he was crazy!
None of them understood what it was like. Buffy had the best mom ever, even if her dad did turn out to be a loser, at least he'd left and not hung around to try to knock the shit out of them and make them feel worthless and miserable the rest of the time. Not that Joyce would have ever allowed such a thing to take place.
Willow's family left a lot to be desired. Most times, he didn't even think her parents really knew who she was. And yet, he had been so jealous of her growing up. He had felt such a yearning to be their child, especially early on, when things first started to go so wrong. Willow's parents were well meaning people, polite, loving... Even if it was on a superficial level, it was better than not loving at all. It was better than the fighting. The screaming and yelling that would eventually escalate into something... far worse.
But there were no words to truly explain these things.
They would never understand why he had to do what he did on his wedding day. Why he had to protect Anya from a life like the one he had, a life like his mother had. He loved her too much for that. She was too good to live like that. 'But if you hadn't been such an idiot, maybe you could've figured that out *before* you asked her to marry you and then had to stand her up on your *wedding day* of all days!'
If he ever even got to speak to her again, how would he ever explain to *her*!? Explain that the reason he couldn't say "I do," that day was because he was trying to save her...from him. It sounded so stupid. She would hate him, like she probably already did. But he would rather her hate him now and always and be able move on. Better that than knowing she was somewhere crying her eyes out, that he had permanently damaged her in some way.
Xander shook himself from his warring thoughts, suddenly very aware he was standing next to Spike, of all creatures. Having a breakdown here would be the next worst possible event that could take place. He looked up from the pile of destroyed books he had been staring at when he zoned out, into the realm of nightmares again. Spike had not noticed his wandering mind, apparently because he had one of his own. He was holding another book, a thin book that looked as if it were older than he was, and burnt now to boot. He just stared at it, appearing incredibly...stricken, sad. Suddenly, unmasked in a way that Xander could not remember ever seeing him. He almost felt that he was looking at a variation on his own reflection. Like Spike was experiencing something like he had only moments ago.
Having these kinds of sympathetic stirrings for Spike was not a feeling he liked to have. So he moved away, surveying some of Spike's other stuff. Moving over to a portable CD player he noted a small stack of CDs. 'Hmmm, let's see what Mr. Billy Idol wannabe has here...' His eyebrows shot up in surprise at he sifted through the few titles that was there.
"Britney Spears,...Foxy Brown, and...Pink!?" He looked at Spike, highly amused, with a question in his expression. Spike glanced up.
"Dawn's. She and I have been doin' this kind of music exchange thing."
Xander looked in shock at the bleach blonde vamp before him. He wasn't sure what about this was the most strange.
"So... I mean, Dawn... So,... you listen to these?!," he asked incredulously.
"Why shouldn't I? Nibblet gave 'em to me to try out. If a girl her age is open-minded enough to give the Sex Pistols a listen then I don't see why I shouldn't try her stuff out... I trust her judgment a hell of a lot more than most around here." He glanced at Xander again who was eyeing the borrowed CDs with amusement then added, "'Specially yours."
Xander noticed Spike finally part with the burnt book he'd been studying. But he didn't put it in the pile on the floor with the other fire damaged literature. Instead he put it up in the shelf. Xander ignored Spike's offhanded insult. It was pretty weak for someone who'd just got caught with Britney Spears. He didn't even feel the need to retaliate. He also made a mental note to try to get close enough to that book, without drawing Spike's attention, and see what it was before he left.
"And 'sides of which," Spike continued. "Don't know who you are to talk. Don't think Anya didn't tell me 'bout your Backstreet Boys lunch box." Spike had to turn to face the boy, knowing the expression would be priceless. And it was...eyes bugging out, his mouth moved for several moments but no sound came out. 'Oh...if it could only *always* be this way...'
"Wha-, I don't hav-...Anya said?...She..." Spike couldn't contain himself, within moments his classic "Spike smirk" was plastered all over his face. "Hey! It's only for the collectable value! I'm planning on putting it up for re-sale. Having a girl like Anya around ain't cheap."
"Well, guess you won't have to worry 'bout that anymore," Spike's smirk faded as he turned his attention back to the books.
That cut. Xander *so* did not want to talk about this. So much more did he not want to talk about it with *Spike*. He looked back down at the CDs again.
"So which did you like the best?"
"What?"
"Foxy, Britney or Pink?" Xander almost grimaced, hoping Spike would take the bait and forget the Anya thing.
"Well, that Foxy's a real tart...no problem with that mind you,...but I couldn't get past the idea of the lil bit listening to that sort of thing. I mean, gotta wonder if Buffy knows the kinda stuff her lil sis listens to..." Xander tilted his head and gave him a look as if he'd grown an extra head. 'Is "William the Bloody" worried about Dawn being influenced by music and becoming a bad girl? Is this the twilight zone?' "Britney's cheeky, I'd love to sink my teeth into..." Off Xander's look he let that one go and moved on. "But overall I'd have to say I fancy that Pink the most...she's got spunk, her music's bit more towards my tastes. And don't bloody change the subject. What are you going to do, just go on hiding from your ex and all your mates and pretend nothing happened?"
"Of course, shoulda known...she's got that punk thing going on," Xander commented looking over the album cover, not wanting to meet Spike's gaze that he could now feel leveled at him. Spike cleared his throat. He was not having it. Xander took a deep breath. It was just as he'd feared.
"I told you, Spike. I don't want to talk about it."
"What do I care what you want?"
Xander was at a loss, Spike had him on that one.
"Why'd you leave her, Harris?"
It wasn't the words so much that threw Xander off... it was the tone, completely devoid of the usual snideness and sarcasm, not even a hint of them to be found. Instead, it sounded...sincere, almost gentle and...filled with sympathy. Suddenly Xander found himself terrified that Spike already knew the answer to the question. That this was just some elaborate trap to draw him out and humiliate him.
The thought then entered his mind that he could simply run up the ladder and out of the crypt. It wasn't likely that Spike would follow. He wouldn't have to explain. But somehow that seemed...undignified and he didn't want to give Spike anymore ammo.
"What do you care?!," he spat out angrily. He didn't want to be pushed about this. And it was *so* like Spike to be the one pushing him.
He still felt unstable inside himself. He still reeled every time he was confronted with the thoughts that had driven him away. He couldn't deal with this right now. Maybe never.
"I don't," Spike stated simply after the short pause. "I'm just trying to make conversation."
"Well don't."
Spike spun around to the boy who was still standing several feet away, now studying the liner notes of the Britney CD.
"You don't know a bloody thing about being a guest in someone's home do you, Harris? No wonder with that nightmare of a family you've got. Speaking of raised in a barn..."
"Shut up, Spike," Xander snapped, wincing at the mention of his family in spite of himself.
"Well I'll have you know, Whelp. When you're in my bloody house and I want conversation you'll oblige me!"
"This isn't a house. It's a hole in the ground, under a crypt,...where dead things live. Those rules don't apply."
That was it. He'd had just about enough of this.
Xander heard a low growl emanate from Spike. Deep inside his mind came the thought that, 'this can not be good,' but still, he held his ground. Spike had the chip, after all. He kept reminding himself he could do no damage. He was now finding Britney's lyrics so completely fascinating...that he didn't even look up to see Spike scowling at him.
"Fine then," he ground out. "You don't want to tell me, I'll just call it as I see it. I'm a hell of a lot better at honesty than you are, Harris. You haven't been honest with anyone lately, have you?"
Xander felt that run instinct kick in. But still he was unable to move. His legs felt like jelly at the prospect of what could be coming. He'd rather die than have himself be that transparent...surely Spike didn't really know about...
"You never even loved her did you?!," Spike demanded, and this time Xander did look up at the vampire before him, in shock. "You just used her and strung her along on crumbs of hope and then when you'd had enough, you dropped her cause you didn't figure an ex-demon was good enough for the likes of you!"
"What?!," Xander's voice came out somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. He'd been expecting Spike to say something terrible...his biggest fear would've been that he would have spoken the terrible truth, but never did he expect...*that*. 'How could he think that?! What if the others think that?! What if *Anya* thinks that?!' Xander's agitation increased by tenfold. "I love Anya!" He yelled back at Spike, walking right up to him in the most challenging stance he could muster. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me! She's...She's the only person I've ever loved who has loved me back so...unconditionally and so fully...she's made me a better person. I love her more than anyone! That's the reason I left!"
Spike was a little taken aback by Xander's extreme reaction, the desperation and conviction of his words. He knew that his own outburst had been the result of him over identifying with the jilted ex-demon, yet he couldn't help feeling a kinship to her. Couldn't help thinking that Xander had the same reasons behind dropping her as Buffy had in dropping him. But Buffy would never have told anyone she loved him, especially not with the vigor that Xander just had.
Although he didn't want to, he was inclined to believe the boy's words. Xander looked extremely brassed off, as if he were ready to punch him,... or try anyway, just for saying that he didn't care about his demon-girl. Spike felt somewhat uplifted by that. Which, he realized was a strange way to feel about it. He had this ridiculous notion of wanting at least one happy ending on the Hellmouth for him to witness... He needed *something* to hold up his long suffering belief in love, after all. It was the one part of William that would never die... and it seemed, ever since Buffy...William was just getting stronger inside him. 'Poofy wanker...,' Spike thought in contempt.
Plus, he kinda liked the demon girl. Sure, she was a bit annoying some of the time...well, most of the time. But he liked her blunt honesty. It was pretty refreshing really. Not to mention funny, especially when Xander was involved.
More importantly, she had never been one to get up on her high scooby horse and call him a 'thing' or dwell unnecessarily on the fact that he didn't have a soul. He realized of course, that probably had to do with the fact that in her time she had done far more damage than he had. In fact, at times he had even been jealous of her, more rightly, jealous of the scoobies' unwavering devotion to her despite her past sins, though he didn't for the unlife of him know why. What did he care if they accepted her and shunned him?
It was just so odd that the slayer, Giles, and the scoobies all accepted her as part of their little 'family,' as they called it. When surely, they must've realized a vengeance demon, especially one of Anya's age and rank must've wrecked far more havoc in her life than he ever had, even as a part of the so called 'scourge of Europe.'
At least, the worst a vampire could do was torture and kill...and Spike, for his part, had never really been into the torture and maiming part...that was Angelus's forte. But Anya, in her days as Anyanka could torture in ways even Angelus couldn't manage.
Strangely enough though, he'd never brought these points up to any of them. As much as he wanted to believe it was because he could've cared less...he knew really it was because he knew poor Anya would never survive being treated the way he was treated by them. If Xander and the others turned on her, she would have no place in the world... She loved them, especially the whelp for some unfathomable reason...and they loved her back. She didn't deserve to have that taken away. He knew how bad it felt and he certainly wouldn't be the cause of it happening to her.
Xander was reeling from his own outburst, in the truth of how much he loved Anya and in the almost irreversible fate that would surely befall them because of his moronic behavior. He still didn't know what to do though. He had thought this over a million times and he'd never come up with any answer other than knowing that he loved her.
Maybe if he went back to her, somehow convinced her to forgive him, it would be okay again. Maybe they could stay together, get married, have children, love each other and support each other and never even resemble the lifestyle that Xander had grown up in. But what if he got back together with her and some variation on the demon's visions came true? What if she wished she'd never married him? What if he drank all the time and they yelled all the time and they screwed up their kids lives just as much as his parents had screwed up his... What if he hurt her? What if he raised his hand to her? How could he know for sure? Probably no horrible failed or abusive marriage started out with the two parties thinking that was how it would turn out.
No two people who loved each other enough to commit to marriage would ever think that things could turn out so...wrong. But it did. Obviously, it happened all the time. How could he risk doing that to Anya? How could he risk doing that to his own children?
How could he risk becoming the man in the demon's visions?
But he missed her so much. Maybe it was possible. Maybe if he was completely honest about his fears concerning himself up front, they could work on it. Together. They could make sure that never happened. Anya was no shrinking violet. She wouldn't just take it if he started to slowly turn into his father, after all. But...no, it was too late for that. He should've been honest from the get go and now...now, undoubtedly he had lost his chance. He'd left. He hadn't even stayed to help her "clean up" after the wedding. He left her with his family... He prayed to God that the others had taken care of everything. That they had been there for her... What Spike had thought about him...that he had used Anya, that he didn't really want her, love her... Anya probably thought that too. The thought of her believing that ripped his heart out. He felt like he couldn't breathe. 'God, Anya...what have I done to you? ... What have I done?'
Suddenly he saw Anya again, in his mind. Quite clearly he imagined her...crying, like she had been at the wedding. Barely able to speak through her sobs. "You...never even...loved me....did you Xander? You didn't want to... be with me?," the last part sounded like a squeak. She continued in a high whimper. "I felt that you didn't...want to marry me. I just wo- wouldn't let myself see. I loved you too much! I was so *stupid*, stupid to ever believe in love after all I've seen. And I... Oh Xander, how could you do this?" Her bloodshot eyes gazed straight into his and the pain seared him straight through. His eyes filled with tears at the vision. "Why?" She broke down, sobbing so hysterically that he couldn't make out anything more that she said, other than his name.
Spike watched Xander's eyes fill with tears as the boy walked away, staring at something far off. He sunk down to the floor then, the tears falling fast down his cheeks as he spoke in broken whispers.
"Anya...I'm so sorry. Anya... Please. I just didn't want to hurt you. I know...I've ruined everything. But I just didn't...didn't want him to hurt you...I mean, I didn't want me to hurt you...like he did...Please understand, wherever you are...please, please understand..."
Spike watched in horror. This was far worse than a pink goo-covered Xander, or even a sick Xander ruining his new carpets, this was a crying Xander. Something he'd not really been exposed to before. He knew Xander must've cried when Buffy died. But he had been too caught up in his own emotions to really notice anyone except for Dawn on that day.
He'd never been good with this. People crying. People in emotional pain. Physical pain he could handle, he even enjoyed it. Peoples screams had never bothered him as a vampire, but the pain in people's hearts... From the very beginning, it had been his Achilles' heel. He had tried to overcome it, knew he *must* overcome it. But by that time Angelus had noticed his weakness. That the very kind of thing he loved doing to his prey was the stuff that Spike could not tolerate. Another aggravating part of William's personality that had held. It had been unfortunate, all around. Not only did it make life as a vampire more difficult, but it intrigued Angelus, especially in those early days...
And that weakness had never gone away...
He remembered when he'd come back to Sunnydale, after the Gem of Amara was lost to him because the Slayer had sent it to Peaches, who proved what a stupid git he really was by destroying it... Then he'd been captured by the initiative and escaped. He was practically salivating for Slayer blood. He'd meant to go kill her in her dorm room that night, still unaware of the government chip newly implanted in his brain. He wanted his revenge, wanted to bag his next slayer, finally. Instead, he had happened upon Red. He hadn't minded that. He was more than ready to take her, had a good mind to change her too. Girl would make a great vamp. Would serve the Slayer right too. And then, he hadn't been able to bite her, cause of the chip. Though at the time he had no idea what was wrong with him.
There he was, pacing back and forth, freaking out, attempting in desperate intervals to try and get his fangs into her tender flesh... He kept shaking his head over and over thinking of the curse that seemed to reign down on him whenever he set foot in Sunnyhell. Now he couldn't even feed! Each time he came back things just kept getting worse! But of course, he always came back. Yet, there in the middle of it all, he'd realized the Red was in pain.
"It's me isn't it?," her tiny voice invaded his mind, he heard the pain in it and sliced right through his contemplation of what the hell was wrong with him and how he could bloody fix it before he got captured again.
"What are you talkin' about?," he'd asked, confused by the statement as he continued his pacing.
"Well, you came looking for Buffy and settled. You didn't want to bite me, I just happened to be around."
"Piffle," he waved off the notion. But she wasn't buying it. He could see it in her eyes as she continued and he started to stare at her, concern unknowingly etched itself onto his features along with the confusion at what the girl was thinking. She had been broken by someone, probably the werewolf. She thought she wasn't attractive, thought nobody would want her.
"I know I'm not the kinda girl vamps like to sink their teeth into. It's always like, "Ooo you're like a sister to me," or "Oh, you're such a good friend!" For that moment, just seeing the look on her face, his attention focused, away from the unlife-changing event of no longer being able to feed, to *making her feel better*.
"Don't be ridiculous...," he said looking her in the eye to show his sincerity as he sat down next to her on the bed. "I'd bite you in a heartbeat." She didn't move away from him, didn't flinch. That had made him feel...strange.
"Really?," she asked, her voice laced heavily with the need for reassurance. The girl had bad luck with romance. He could relate. Bloody ludicrous, really. He couldn't imagine why the werewolf had left her, anymore than he could understand why Dru had left him.
"Thought about it."
"When?," she asked, and it struck him as funny the girl sounded so hopeful at the thought that a vampire wanted to kill her.
"Remember last year, you had on that ah..fuzzy pink number with the lilac underneath?," he gave her a pointed look and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Her face lit up.
"I never would've guessed. You played the bloodlust kinda cool." She was actually smiling! Then, more amazing still, he actually smiled back. It was like he couldn't help himself. It looked as if she hadn't smiled in quite a while. He made her smile. And all he had to do was tell the truth.
So it ended up, that instead of trying to kill the slayer's best friend, he'd been busy working on boosting the girl's self esteem! Of course, in turn she had tried to make *him* feel better about the fact that he couldn't bite her. Hell, she'd even encouraged him to try again. Comforting someone who was about to kill you...*that* at least gave him the reassurance that he wasn't the only one who was off his bird.
He had tried to stay out of the Tara incident as well. When her family had come for her, claiming that she was about to turn into a 'disgusting demon,' he had attempted to watch impassively. Really, he had been riveted to the whole scene. Better than one of his favorite soaps, it was. Willow defending her white witch, not even the slightest bit cross with her for almost getting them all killed by casting that spell on them. Buffy acting as if she were about to hand her over to the family willingly, then turning on a dime and telling Tara's father that he would have to come through her if he wanted to take the pixie against her will. He had been as shocked as Tara. Then one by one, the others joined in. Tara had tears in her eyes, moved by their actions and words, protecting her after she had made such a horrible mistake, after she had failed to tell them the truth. He had fought an urge inside him...tried not to be moved by it as well. Still, Tara was torn. Desperately afraid of what she would become and that the others, in the end, would shun her. Looking in her tear-filled eyes, he saw the pain and the fear of rejection by the one she loved. Fear of being rejected by everyone. Then, he didn't just see it in her eyes...he felt it. After he'd figured out what the deal was with her family. The men kept the women almost as slaves, reigning them in with the whole demon trip. And of course, he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd punched the girl in the nose to prove her humanity. Bloody hurt like hell too when the chip went off.
Something had tugged on his heart, dead as it was, when she chanted in wonder with tears of happiness and freedom glistening still in her big blue eyes, "I'm not a demon." Willow looking at her with love, reaffirming..."You're not a demon." He had hated that.
And he hated this. He *so* hated this. Harris on the ground crying. The witches, the bit and of course Buffy was one thing, or...several things...but Harris! That was something else entirely! He really, *really* hated this. He felt so bad, so unsure. Something was seriously wrong here... Wasn't he supposed to be enjoying this!? Getting his kicks and laughs at the whelp's expense? Why did he feel like this!? It was very disconcerting. In fact, it went way beyond that. It was this unmistakable feeling of what it was like before...
Then Xander's words, sent out to Anya somewhere in the void, caught up to him. A light came on in Spike's eyes. He understood. He couldn't believe he had been so daft as to not have seen it before.
Xander was still on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. He crying had subsided somewhat, in that he was no longer openly sobbing and calling out her name, but the tears still silently fell. He was looking down, unable to look at Spike's superior smirk now. It would send him over the edge. 'Maybe I should just ask him to kill me...could be if the victim is willing to die the chip wouldn't send off the negative feedback...Surely that's all it would take to convince him...' He couldn't believe he had lost it like that in front of Spike. 'You know your world has crashed when *that* concern is only secondary...," he thought ruefully. He had lost Anya. 'Anya...'
He sensed Spike sit down a little ways over from him on the floor. He tensed up immediately, preparing for him to say something terrible. Never in a million years ready for what he said instead, in that same strange, serious tone he had used before.
"You're nothing like him, you know..." Spike's voice broke the silence. He dared to glance over at Xander, who was still looking down at his knees. Spike watched a tear fall and hit the boy's hand. He turned away, looking down himself. "You couldn't be, even if you tried." Xander felt his throat constrict, making it hard to swallow the tears he felt rising at Spike's words... The emotions overwhelmed him, both the terror and the relief that he knew... Someone knew. Someone understood it...
There was something else too, in the words themselves as well as in how they were spoken.
It was like when he was in kindergarten. He had hated school...the other kids had picked on him mercilessly and Willow had been his only friend. When they were separated, he had found it unbearable. These times were still within the realm of innocence. When all he felt for both his parents was love and longing to be near to them. Maybe they were even happy back then, he didn't really know.
But he remembered sometimes, his mom would come to the school to help out with something and he would find out in the middle of one of his most terrible days. When it seemed that things could get no more worse, no more unbearable. Out of nowhere, his mom comes and he's rescued. He got to leave school early, with her, after she was finished with whatever she had been doing there to help out. Getting in the car with her...it had felt just like that, getting rescued. She would take his tiny hand in hers. "Bad day?," she would ask knowingly. And he would get that same feeling...the constriction in his throat and the tears that seemed to be rising from the very core of his being. The tears were as much for the relief of having someone who understood how bad it had been, who was trying to help, as for the admission he had to make to himself upon it, that things indeed were bad.
Xander had to shake his head softly at the irony, even as he lost the battle and the new tears escaped from his eyes. He almost laughed it was so ridiculous.
Spike had rescued him.
To Be Continued...
Next time: Spike and Xander talk about their fathers. Hallie crashes and we find out what happened to Willow and Buffy.
He tried as best he could in his groggy state, to remember exactly how he had gotten there. As usual memories came flooding back in a specific order... And the first memory to surface took hold and wouldn't let him go. He had left Anya. At their wedding ceremony, he had left her!
He saw perfectly the heart wrenching image of her in his mind, her in her wedding gown, looking gorgeous, with tears streaming down her pretty face. His stomach did flip flops as he remembered looking from that tearstained face to his father in another screaming match with his mother. That lead to a steady stream of older memories, all cutting into him. All reasons for why he had left...
He wanted to believe it had all been some nightmare he was just waking up from...but of course, that was impossible. As impossible as changing the past...
He shut his eyes tightly against the images, only to have others, unbidden come into his mind's eye. The visions that the demon had shown him.
Particularly the last vision. When he came at Anya, crying out in rage and then... Well, he didn't know what had happened next, but it felt like something nightmarish must have followed. He didn't know how many times he had thought of this...he wasn't even sure how long it had been now since the wedding...
Xander only knew that each time, the memories chilled him and horrified him just as much as when the demon had first deceived him, even more so. He felt a sudden, overwhelming queasiness overtake him.
Pulling himself over to the side of the bed, he lost all the vending machine junk that had made up the whole of his non-nutritionally balanced meals for some time now, onto the floor below.
"Oh...bloody hell," came Spike's exasperated tone.
After the task of emptying his stomach was done, he lifted his head slowly and looked up past the foot of the bed. To his great dismay he saw Spike sitting in a chair, almost obscured in the darkness of a corner. The room...if you could call it a room, it was more like part of a cavern, was lit only by two lamps, one by the bedside and one near the chair where Spike appeared to have been reading a book.
Now there was an appropriate look of disgust on each face. Spike, because he'd just seen Xander throw up all over one of his new rugs. And Xander because he had just realized he wasn't still in the motel. He was in Spike's crypt...in *Spike's bed*?
'Perfect,' Spike thought. He'd worked so hard on fixing the place back up after Buffy and Captain Cardboard's little game of GI Joe... He had worked almost non stop on it. He'd gotten new furniture, new lamps, new accessories to make his home more "homey" and oh yeah,...new area rugs. It was still a little charred around the edges but it was starting to look pretty decent again and now, there was Xander, barfing up some disgusting assortment on his new stuff. 'Figures.'
"Hope you realize I just got that," Spike explained testily. "You owe me a new area rug."
Xander didn't answer. He was stuck on another thought.
"Am I in your bed?"
Spike almost smiled.
"Yes," he spoke to the boy slowly, drawing the word out, as if he were talking to someone who was mentally ill.
Not that he was sure that 'mentally ill' didn't entirely apply to the Harris boy.
"The bed that you...did your...exercising in?"
Actually, it wasn't the same bed. He'd had to get a new one after the...incident. Had to hire a bunch of bloody people, well not so much people as demons (people asked too many questions), just to get it down there, along with the rest of the furniture and new stuff he had acquired...
Still,... it was irresistible. The look on Xander's face... He had seen him swallow hard before saying the word 'exercising' and he'd almost lost it.
Spike delivered the line with his best poker face, yet his eyes could not hide the glint of mischief and surpressed laughter.
"Well,...I was on the other side."
At that moment, Xander jumped out of the bed as if it had caught fire, narrowly missing the ruined area rug on the floor below.
"I think I'm going to be sick again."
"Right. Should've known you would blame me for you upchucking all over my stuff."
"Hey!," Xander protested. He looked around warily for a moment, as if he had began the protest without knowing where it was going. His mind was fuzzy... 'How did I get here?' Instead he blurted out, "Why am I here in the first place!?"
"Oh I see, you're also going to blame me for you getting attacked by *two* Kolariah demons and me saving you *twice* then carrying your sorry carcass out of the rain before you got attacked again." This time Spike spoke without looking up at Xander, instead studying the book he held, his voice calm and casual with just a touch here and there of his almost trademark sarcasm.
Xander considered this, just beginning to remember what had happened. The thing with the red scales and with goo...not exactly pleasant. The and the second one was...even less pleasant. His mouth was poised to say something, but it never came out as more than a sputtering sound.
Spike continued.
"How many times have I saved you now, anyway? I lost track after thirty-five or so..."
"*You* have *not* saved me thirty-fi--"
"And you know, one would think a person would eventually gain some sort of appreciation. I mean, I'm not talking about actually being treated like a person, instead of like that rug you just ruined...but a simple thank you every now and then, that would be--"
"Thank you," Xander grumbled, cutting off Spike's rant. The expression was spoken so low that Spike almost thought he had imagined it.
And it caught him completely off guard.
He stared at Xander, setting his book down on the table beside him absently. He said nothing for...well, it must've been a record for a Spike/Xander verbal sparring match.
"What did you say?," he asked finally, not able to believe without hearing it again.
Xander sighed. He had only been out for a little less than an hour. Spike could still hear the steady rains outside. Xander looked tired and pale and...devastated really. Completely conquered. 'But conquered enough to say...?'
"I said thank you. Now could we just drop it?" He really hadn't wanted to say it, but he had. 'Anything really *can* happen in Sunnyhell...,' Spike thought, amused at the irritation he could hear beneath the fatigue in Xander's tone. The boy sounded even more exhausted and distressed than he looked. That was hard to believe considering Xander now looked about five shades paler than Spike did, a sheen of sweat covering him from his fitful sleep and it looked as though it were taking all his strength just to stand up straight.
He was sick, tired and mentally wrecked. Spike felt like he could relate even though he knew vampires really couldn't be sick quite in the way that Xander was right now,...from a mixture of heartbreak, stress, fear, too much junk food on the stomach and too little sleep. But it was only the last two that did not contribute to Spike's own periodic bouts of sickness, the worst of which had been the weeks immediately following Buffy's death, that past summer.
"Harris, why don't you just lay yourself back down. I do wash the sheets you know." He was actually half smiling now, unable to believe Xander Harris had actually thanked *him*, 'the evil thing,' as he walked over towards the ladder. "In fact, I'll have to change them again today since you got 'em all wet and dirty... Hey, maybe you wouldn't mind doing that while you clean up that mess beside the bed." In passing he tossed Xander a stack of clean, dry clothes. "And you might want to change too."
Spike threw a glance back Xander's way as he started up the ladder, only to see him swaying. Xander then looked down to the rug he was about to clean and his hand flew over his mouth. The other hand dropped the clothes he had been holding. He became even more discolored.
"All right then!," Spike began quickly, not wanting to waste any time, as he rushed back down the ladder. "On second thought...let's get you something to calm your stomach before you ruin *all* my new stuff." He had really put too much time, energy and money into erasing the damage done, at least to his crypt, during Riley Finn's short stay, to let that happen. He made his way up the ladder after Xander, in case the boy should actually faint, fall back down and crack open his noggin. Slayer would never believe him if Xander managed to kill himself in his crypt. She'd stake him for the murder before he could get two syllables out in explanation.
Spike took Xander over to the mini refrigerator that he kept in the corner of the upper level of his crypt. Opening it up, he took in what he had to offer other than some fresh pig's blood which he guessed Xander wouldn't enjoy hearing about right now.
"So what'll it be?" In answer to Spike's question Xander just stared into the frige blankly. Spike continued undaunted. "Let's see,... I have some soda water, that should help a bit. And you need to eat something bland to settle your stomach. No more spicy Cajun chips or those cheese doodles for you." Xander swallowed hard, almost losing whatever was left in his stomach at the mere thought of eating those things again.
Spike took a small bottle of soda water out of the mini frige and handed it to Xander. There was a box on top of the mini frige, he went for that next. "And here's some wheatabits. Those should do you up good and proper. No more Xander to clean out of the carpets." Xander was about to take his soda water and wheatabits back down the ladder with him so Spike continued in haste, steering him away from the passage and over to the sarcophagus. "Why don't you just stay here until you down that and feel a little less like vomiting the rest of your stomach lining up. At least this is easier to clean." Xander shot him a look, but with difficulty hoisted himself up onto the sarcophagus, opened the soda water and took a tentative sip.
"K then Whelp, you're all set. I'll be back... Want to watch the telly?" At his own words Spike almost shuddered. He was being all accommodating and considerate. It was disgusting, really.
'Why the hell am I doin' this? The whelp hates me! Always has, always will, made that clear enough...*And* the feeling's *mutual*! I don't bloody care what he thinks! I should toss him out into the rain instead of cater to him like I'm some nancy boy nursemaid!'
Xander's eyes were far away as he took out a wheatabit and popped it into his mouth, following it with a swig of the soda water. It did seem to make his stomach feel a bit less raw.
"Why do you have things like soda water and wheatabits, Spike?"
Spike shrugged moving over to the ladder. In truth, the soda water had been for Buffy, when she'd been feeling bad. With all the stress she'd been under lately, he liked to keep things around to make her feel better. Soda water was just one weapon against Buffy sickness and blues in a massive arsenal. That same arsenal had also included anything from liquor, to ice packs to well,... himself. But he decided Xander really wouldn't appreciate hearing that. So he stuck with half-truths.
"Just like 'em. Pretty simple, really."
"Yeah but... I mean, vampires usually just drink blood, right? Angel didn't eat food...or drink anything other than blood...," Xander thought a moment. "In fact, he was really testy about people eating around him. Like it pissed him off or something. He wasn't loud and all 'get out of my face' about it, but it wasn't too hard to pick up on. I just always figured he,...well, vampires in general, couldn't eat." Spike seemed to consider Xander's words in the short pause that followed. It brought back questions he had pondered before, many times. But asking those questions never got him anywhere.
"Well, good thing for you then I'm not like Peaches, huh whelp?"
Xander didn't catch the meaning for a moment. He thought about telling Spike to stop calling him 'whelp,' but the soda water felt good on his sensitive stomach and before he knew it the moment had passed.
Spike spoke up again.
"Does it help?"
"Sure as hell better than blood, so...," he glanced at Spike to see the bleached vamp with a pointed expression on his face and Xander almost smiled at him. "So okay,... I give you that. I'm glad you're not like Angel. Good to know Evil Dead always has a plentiful stock of wheatabits available."
"Damn straight." Spike said, perfectly serious. "Those things are bloody wonderful." Then he disappeared down into the lower level, leaving Xander alone to contemplate...all those things he *didn't* want to contemplate.
Visions of Anya in tears and his father threatened, but he pushed them away. In desperation, he chose to contemplate other things. Such as how Spike had ended up so different from his sire...and who was his sire anyway? ... Angel had said he was, but then Buffy had mentioned Dru? ... Spike was pretty different from either one of them ... And what were the odds that any other vampire alive or, ... unalive, had a mini frige.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Twenty-some minutes later Xander had consumed about five generous hand-fulls of Spike's 'bloody wonderful wheatabits' and finished off his bottle of soda water. He almost hated to admit, that having done that in addition to having been able to distract himself from the events of the past several days, in truth, the past... nine or ten years since he had been old enough to take notice what went on in his home, made him feel surprisingly better for the moment.
Had it only begun nine or ten years ago? Seemed like fifty... Perhaps it had only started then, but... He was remembering again. He felt an alarm go off in his head. 'Think happy thoughts...well, no happy thoughts to be had...think...weird thoughts, like about how Spike likes wheatabits...possible future cracks I could make about Spike liking wheatabits...' 'How old was I the first time I actually saw him try to hit her?' The alarm sounded again as the unwelcome thought pushed into his mind and Xander hopped off the sarcophagus.
He made his way down the ladder into the cavernous underground section of Spike's home, as he continued to try *not* to think about the things he was thinking about. But his mind seemed hell bent on making him crazy.
Before he noticed Spike, he realized that the bed he'd woken up in now had fresh sheets on it. The other set had been blood red and these were...white. The idea struck him as odd, a creature of the darkness sleeping in white sheets, munching on wheatabits while watching daytime soaps. If it had not been for the war waging inside him, he would have chuckled at the image.
He also realized that Spike had cleaned the Xander out of the throw rug. 'Hey I didn't ruin it after all... Not that I'd care. I mean, he's evil. He deserves his rugs to be ruined! ... Man, am I normally this lame? It must be sleep deprivation. Yeah, that's it.'
He saw Spike then, over in the corner near where he'd been sitting before, at a bookshelf. Looked like he was straightening up. Or maybe hiding something. He turned then, not seeming too surprised to see Xander standing at the foot of the ladder. Xander had been hoping to sneak up on the chipless wonder and see exactly what he was up to. 'Stupid vampires with their stupid vampire hearing...' He needed something interesting, to distract him. He just couldn't deal with Anya or his father or what he'd done. Surely, if Spike was hiding something away, it had to be interesting.
"Well, I remembered how you commented on my poor housekeeping last you visited and well, it just hurt me so," Spike explained sarcastically upon seeing Xander's curious expression. Really, he was still in the process fixing everything up from the Finn fiasco. He wondered if Xander had even noticed the charred look of his humble abode...probably not. He was too worried by other matters.
Any fool could see that the boy had a desperate battle raging inside him. There were demons inside him that he was struggling to push away, demons that wanted to destroy him.
"Yeah, yeah," Xander started to feel a twinge of something that made his skin crawl. It was...Guilt...about Spike! No couldn't be... It was just,...badness. Badness for what? For having Spike save his life, clean his vomit, feed him...and all for what reason? Xander couldn't actually believe that Spike didn't have some ulterior motive for all this. But as much as he searched his brain, he could think of nothing he would gain...other than perhaps telling his friends what a pathetic mess he'd been, though they would probably see that for themselves in time. 'Maybe he just gets a kick out of watching me miserable.' There that was it. Made perfect sense.
"How are you feelin' now?" Damn it. Didn't Spike know how disconcerting that was when he acted like he actually cared. How *wrong* was that?! It was enough to give Xander nightmares.
"Oh, I'm just dandy! I'm spending the night of what *should* still be my honeymoon in Evil Dead's crypt. Now *that's* what I'd call a dream come true!" The familiar sarcasm between them acted as strange comfort. Xander went on, pretending to be talking to himself. "And I thought things couldn't get any worse." Spike had his back to Xander, picking out a book from the shelf after some consideration. He rolled his eyes at Xander's comments.
Turning, he began to make his way over to the ladder again. On the way picking up the same stack of clothes that he had given to Xander earlier. He tossed them over. Xander caught them more easily this time.
"Here's the clothes you dropped while you were swooning a while ago."
"I was not swooning!"
"Right," Spike chuckled.
Xander examined the clothes Spike had given him to change into for the first time. It did sound like a nice prospect to get out of the dirty, uncomfortable tux that he'd been wearing for days now. It would be good to be dry again. And these clothes actually weren't black...they kinda looked like...
"Hey, these are my clothes!"
A while later, once Xander had gotten comfortable in his new/old clean clothes, had settled into the bed with crisp white sheets, had some sleep, and after Spike had gotten his fill of soaps in for the day, the two found themselves sharing each other's company once again, down in the lower level of Spike's crypt. Spike was rummaging through a pile of books in the corner and tossing some into a discard pile, those that were too burned to be salvageable and the others he placed carefully in the shelves.
Xander had awoken to this. He watched Spike curiously as the vampire spent considerable time on some books, brushing them off carefully and flipping through the pages quietly, an almost wistful expression gracing his features.
Xander had to wonder about the burned books. He started studying the room...
"So what Spike, you forget to put out your cigarette one night when you went to bed?," Xander asked sarcastically, getting up and walking over next to where Spike stood. He knelt next to him, over the considerably large pile of burnt and semi-burnt books on the floor.
"Yeah," Spike answered dryly, not wanting to admit the truth. Not wanting to humiliate himself further by saying, 'No, it was the slayer and her solider boy. Captain Cardboard himself came by to push me around and, of course, Buffy joined in, taking his side over mine, after having just come in and shagged me conveniently, even getting me to tell her once again that I love her, like the stupid whipped bitch of a vampire I am. So he threatens me, while she insults me. And me all the time, completely helpless against them as they search my place. Then they blow up everything. After that, just for good measure, Buffy comes back to tell me it's over between us. Not as if there was anything between us to start with by her view of it, other than just shagging each other senseless.'
During his internal rant he had totally missed it when Xander had asked him if he was serious. He was once again, hopelessly lost in his mind as he relived his most recent humiliation and betrayal.
Just when he had thought maybe he was getting closer... She had asked him to tell her that he loved her. She'd *never* done anything but tell him *not* to tell her that. Turns out, it was just the next level of her using him. He had finally figured it out in retrospect.
"Hey Spike! You really zone out on those books don't ya? What's the deal?" Xander was feeling a little better physically and a little embarrassed at the same time over all that had happened since he was attacked by the demon with the red scales and the pink goo in the cemetery. He wanted to distract Spike from any talk about it, or about what had happened at the wedding. He didn't know why he didn't just leave now. He wasn't even sure what time it was or exactly how long he'd been sleeping or how long he'd been there.
But where would he go? Back to the motel? To sit by himself and think over and over again of what a fool he had become? To contemplate in silence the possibility that it might be fate...that he would, no matter what, end up just like his father? His grandparents had been just like his parents, after all. Maybe it was just this never-ending vicious cycle... To wonder how he could ever accept the risk of getting as close to someone he loved as he had been about to with Anya? To remember all those things he'd rather forget. So many things he wanted to forget.
Not to mention the fact that the others were probably out looking for him now. The thought of facing them still terrified them. He didn't know if he'd ever felt so ashamed of himself. And he couldn't even form the words inside his head to explain to them what he had done and more importantly, why.
One thing that kept coming to his mind was Willow. Willow, his best friend in the whole world, since they were...what? A year old? She would never forgive him for not confiding in her. Well, she *would* forgive him...that was just Willow, but she would always be hurt about the fact that he hadn't trusted her enough to let her know. There were so many things she didn't know. She knew his parents weren't exactly...blissful together. But she'd never known about how bad things got. He'd kept her away from that. To protect her...or to protect himself, the latter felt more true, even though he reasoned the first to be his actual reason.
It was true however, that he didn't want her to worry for him. He could handle himself. And on those occasions when he had been hit, hurt in some way...it had been easy enough to make up a lie. He'd lied to Willow. She would never understand that either. Never understand the shame he felt at his father's words to him.
His father who had challenged him to fight, whenever he would try desperately to take up for his mother. His mother, in turn would always defend his father during these times. He never understood it. *Why* she defended him, even when she was using extra concealer every day to cover up her bruises? ... Even when she knew that he had hurt both of them...
After time, he'd just come to accept it, most days. It was all he knew, after all. His mom said nothing was wrong with their family, when Xander would raise the question to her. If she wanted that kind of life, maybe she knew what was best for her. He was just a stupid loser anyway. His father was right about that,... and the weak part...right on the money.
No wonder he'd been so desperate to be a part of the scooby team, even if it got him killed. For once he just wanted to prove his dad wrong. Just once he wanted to not believe all the insults and cruel statements from his father that he'd endured all his life. Maybe if he could prove himself, things would finally change. That's what he had thought anyway. 'What an idiot,' Xander thought of himself in contempt. Nothing had ever changed.
None of his friends would understand why he had kept it a secret. They would see him for who he really was then. They would see the boy his father saw whenever he looked at him. He would be weak to them. Weaker even than they had considered him before. Wasn't it considered mental to allow yourself to be beaten, abused...verbally and physically...to know further, that it was also happening to someone you loved,... even if she didn't really love you, and to still do nothing! They would think he was crazy!
None of them understood what it was like. Buffy had the best mom ever, even if her dad did turn out to be a loser, at least he'd left and not hung around to try to knock the shit out of them and make them feel worthless and miserable the rest of the time. Not that Joyce would have ever allowed such a thing to take place.
Willow's family left a lot to be desired. Most times, he didn't even think her parents really knew who she was. And yet, he had been so jealous of her growing up. He had felt such a yearning to be their child, especially early on, when things first started to go so wrong. Willow's parents were well meaning people, polite, loving... Even if it was on a superficial level, it was better than not loving at all. It was better than the fighting. The screaming and yelling that would eventually escalate into something... far worse.
But there were no words to truly explain these things.
They would never understand why he had to do what he did on his wedding day. Why he had to protect Anya from a life like the one he had, a life like his mother had. He loved her too much for that. She was too good to live like that. 'But if you hadn't been such an idiot, maybe you could've figured that out *before* you asked her to marry you and then had to stand her up on your *wedding day* of all days!'
If he ever even got to speak to her again, how would he ever explain to *her*!? Explain that the reason he couldn't say "I do," that day was because he was trying to save her...from him. It sounded so stupid. She would hate him, like she probably already did. But he would rather her hate him now and always and be able move on. Better that than knowing she was somewhere crying her eyes out, that he had permanently damaged her in some way.
Xander shook himself from his warring thoughts, suddenly very aware he was standing next to Spike, of all creatures. Having a breakdown here would be the next worst possible event that could take place. He looked up from the pile of destroyed books he had been staring at when he zoned out, into the realm of nightmares again. Spike had not noticed his wandering mind, apparently because he had one of his own. He was holding another book, a thin book that looked as if it were older than he was, and burnt now to boot. He just stared at it, appearing incredibly...stricken, sad. Suddenly, unmasked in a way that Xander could not remember ever seeing him. He almost felt that he was looking at a variation on his own reflection. Like Spike was experiencing something like he had only moments ago.
Having these kinds of sympathetic stirrings for Spike was not a feeling he liked to have. So he moved away, surveying some of Spike's other stuff. Moving over to a portable CD player he noted a small stack of CDs. 'Hmmm, let's see what Mr. Billy Idol wannabe has here...' His eyebrows shot up in surprise at he sifted through the few titles that was there.
"Britney Spears,...Foxy Brown, and...Pink!?" He looked at Spike, highly amused, with a question in his expression. Spike glanced up.
"Dawn's. She and I have been doin' this kind of music exchange thing."
Xander looked in shock at the bleach blonde vamp before him. He wasn't sure what about this was the most strange.
"So... I mean, Dawn... So,... you listen to these?!," he asked incredulously.
"Why shouldn't I? Nibblet gave 'em to me to try out. If a girl her age is open-minded enough to give the Sex Pistols a listen then I don't see why I shouldn't try her stuff out... I trust her judgment a hell of a lot more than most around here." He glanced at Xander again who was eyeing the borrowed CDs with amusement then added, "'Specially yours."
Xander noticed Spike finally part with the burnt book he'd been studying. But he didn't put it in the pile on the floor with the other fire damaged literature. Instead he put it up in the shelf. Xander ignored Spike's offhanded insult. It was pretty weak for someone who'd just got caught with Britney Spears. He didn't even feel the need to retaliate. He also made a mental note to try to get close enough to that book, without drawing Spike's attention, and see what it was before he left.
"And 'sides of which," Spike continued. "Don't know who you are to talk. Don't think Anya didn't tell me 'bout your Backstreet Boys lunch box." Spike had to turn to face the boy, knowing the expression would be priceless. And it was...eyes bugging out, his mouth moved for several moments but no sound came out. 'Oh...if it could only *always* be this way...'
"Wha-, I don't hav-...Anya said?...She..." Spike couldn't contain himself, within moments his classic "Spike smirk" was plastered all over his face. "Hey! It's only for the collectable value! I'm planning on putting it up for re-sale. Having a girl like Anya around ain't cheap."
"Well, guess you won't have to worry 'bout that anymore," Spike's smirk faded as he turned his attention back to the books.
That cut. Xander *so* did not want to talk about this. So much more did he not want to talk about it with *Spike*. He looked back down at the CDs again.
"So which did you like the best?"
"What?"
"Foxy, Britney or Pink?" Xander almost grimaced, hoping Spike would take the bait and forget the Anya thing.
"Well, that Foxy's a real tart...no problem with that mind you,...but I couldn't get past the idea of the lil bit listening to that sort of thing. I mean, gotta wonder if Buffy knows the kinda stuff her lil sis listens to..." Xander tilted his head and gave him a look as if he'd grown an extra head. 'Is "William the Bloody" worried about Dawn being influenced by music and becoming a bad girl? Is this the twilight zone?' "Britney's cheeky, I'd love to sink my teeth into..." Off Xander's look he let that one go and moved on. "But overall I'd have to say I fancy that Pink the most...she's got spunk, her music's bit more towards my tastes. And don't bloody change the subject. What are you going to do, just go on hiding from your ex and all your mates and pretend nothing happened?"
"Of course, shoulda known...she's got that punk thing going on," Xander commented looking over the album cover, not wanting to meet Spike's gaze that he could now feel leveled at him. Spike cleared his throat. He was not having it. Xander took a deep breath. It was just as he'd feared.
"I told you, Spike. I don't want to talk about it."
"What do I care what you want?"
Xander was at a loss, Spike had him on that one.
"Why'd you leave her, Harris?"
It wasn't the words so much that threw Xander off... it was the tone, completely devoid of the usual snideness and sarcasm, not even a hint of them to be found. Instead, it sounded...sincere, almost gentle and...filled with sympathy. Suddenly Xander found himself terrified that Spike already knew the answer to the question. That this was just some elaborate trap to draw him out and humiliate him.
The thought then entered his mind that he could simply run up the ladder and out of the crypt. It wasn't likely that Spike would follow. He wouldn't have to explain. But somehow that seemed...undignified and he didn't want to give Spike anymore ammo.
"What do you care?!," he spat out angrily. He didn't want to be pushed about this. And it was *so* like Spike to be the one pushing him.
He still felt unstable inside himself. He still reeled every time he was confronted with the thoughts that had driven him away. He couldn't deal with this right now. Maybe never.
"I don't," Spike stated simply after the short pause. "I'm just trying to make conversation."
"Well don't."
Spike spun around to the boy who was still standing several feet away, now studying the liner notes of the Britney CD.
"You don't know a bloody thing about being a guest in someone's home do you, Harris? No wonder with that nightmare of a family you've got. Speaking of raised in a barn..."
"Shut up, Spike," Xander snapped, wincing at the mention of his family in spite of himself.
"Well I'll have you know, Whelp. When you're in my bloody house and I want conversation you'll oblige me!"
"This isn't a house. It's a hole in the ground, under a crypt,...where dead things live. Those rules don't apply."
That was it. He'd had just about enough of this.
Xander heard a low growl emanate from Spike. Deep inside his mind came the thought that, 'this can not be good,' but still, he held his ground. Spike had the chip, after all. He kept reminding himself he could do no damage. He was now finding Britney's lyrics so completely fascinating...that he didn't even look up to see Spike scowling at him.
"Fine then," he ground out. "You don't want to tell me, I'll just call it as I see it. I'm a hell of a lot better at honesty than you are, Harris. You haven't been honest with anyone lately, have you?"
Xander felt that run instinct kick in. But still he was unable to move. His legs felt like jelly at the prospect of what could be coming. He'd rather die than have himself be that transparent...surely Spike didn't really know about...
"You never even loved her did you?!," Spike demanded, and this time Xander did look up at the vampire before him, in shock. "You just used her and strung her along on crumbs of hope and then when you'd had enough, you dropped her cause you didn't figure an ex-demon was good enough for the likes of you!"
"What?!," Xander's voice came out somewhere between a gasp and a squeak. He'd been expecting Spike to say something terrible...his biggest fear would've been that he would have spoken the terrible truth, but never did he expect...*that*. 'How could he think that?! What if the others think that?! What if *Anya* thinks that?!' Xander's agitation increased by tenfold. "I love Anya!" He yelled back at Spike, walking right up to him in the most challenging stance he could muster. "She's the best thing that ever happened to me! She's...She's the only person I've ever loved who has loved me back so...unconditionally and so fully...she's made me a better person. I love her more than anyone! That's the reason I left!"
Spike was a little taken aback by Xander's extreme reaction, the desperation and conviction of his words. He knew that his own outburst had been the result of him over identifying with the jilted ex-demon, yet he couldn't help feeling a kinship to her. Couldn't help thinking that Xander had the same reasons behind dropping her as Buffy had in dropping him. But Buffy would never have told anyone she loved him, especially not with the vigor that Xander just had.
Although he didn't want to, he was inclined to believe the boy's words. Xander looked extremely brassed off, as if he were ready to punch him,... or try anyway, just for saying that he didn't care about his demon-girl. Spike felt somewhat uplifted by that. Which, he realized was a strange way to feel about it. He had this ridiculous notion of wanting at least one happy ending on the Hellmouth for him to witness... He needed *something* to hold up his long suffering belief in love, after all. It was the one part of William that would never die... and it seemed, ever since Buffy...William was just getting stronger inside him. 'Poofy wanker...,' Spike thought in contempt.
Plus, he kinda liked the demon girl. Sure, she was a bit annoying some of the time...well, most of the time. But he liked her blunt honesty. It was pretty refreshing really. Not to mention funny, especially when Xander was involved.
More importantly, she had never been one to get up on her high scooby horse and call him a 'thing' or dwell unnecessarily on the fact that he didn't have a soul. He realized of course, that probably had to do with the fact that in her time she had done far more damage than he had. In fact, at times he had even been jealous of her, more rightly, jealous of the scoobies' unwavering devotion to her despite her past sins, though he didn't for the unlife of him know why. What did he care if they accepted her and shunned him?
It was just so odd that the slayer, Giles, and the scoobies all accepted her as part of their little 'family,' as they called it. When surely, they must've realized a vengeance demon, especially one of Anya's age and rank must've wrecked far more havoc in her life than he ever had, even as a part of the so called 'scourge of Europe.'
At least, the worst a vampire could do was torture and kill...and Spike, for his part, had never really been into the torture and maiming part...that was Angelus's forte. But Anya, in her days as Anyanka could torture in ways even Angelus couldn't manage.
Strangely enough though, he'd never brought these points up to any of them. As much as he wanted to believe it was because he could've cared less...he knew really it was because he knew poor Anya would never survive being treated the way he was treated by them. If Xander and the others turned on her, she would have no place in the world... She loved them, especially the whelp for some unfathomable reason...and they loved her back. She didn't deserve to have that taken away. He knew how bad it felt and he certainly wouldn't be the cause of it happening to her.
Xander was reeling from his own outburst, in the truth of how much he loved Anya and in the almost irreversible fate that would surely befall them because of his moronic behavior. He still didn't know what to do though. He had thought this over a million times and he'd never come up with any answer other than knowing that he loved her.
Maybe if he went back to her, somehow convinced her to forgive him, it would be okay again. Maybe they could stay together, get married, have children, love each other and support each other and never even resemble the lifestyle that Xander had grown up in. But what if he got back together with her and some variation on the demon's visions came true? What if she wished she'd never married him? What if he drank all the time and they yelled all the time and they screwed up their kids lives just as much as his parents had screwed up his... What if he hurt her? What if he raised his hand to her? How could he know for sure? Probably no horrible failed or abusive marriage started out with the two parties thinking that was how it would turn out.
No two people who loved each other enough to commit to marriage would ever think that things could turn out so...wrong. But it did. Obviously, it happened all the time. How could he risk doing that to Anya? How could he risk doing that to his own children?
How could he risk becoming the man in the demon's visions?
But he missed her so much. Maybe it was possible. Maybe if he was completely honest about his fears concerning himself up front, they could work on it. Together. They could make sure that never happened. Anya was no shrinking violet. She wouldn't just take it if he started to slowly turn into his father, after all. But...no, it was too late for that. He should've been honest from the get go and now...now, undoubtedly he had lost his chance. He'd left. He hadn't even stayed to help her "clean up" after the wedding. He left her with his family... He prayed to God that the others had taken care of everything. That they had been there for her... What Spike had thought about him...that he had used Anya, that he didn't really want her, love her... Anya probably thought that too. The thought of her believing that ripped his heart out. He felt like he couldn't breathe. 'God, Anya...what have I done to you? ... What have I done?'
Suddenly he saw Anya again, in his mind. Quite clearly he imagined her...crying, like she had been at the wedding. Barely able to speak through her sobs. "You...never even...loved me....did you Xander? You didn't want to... be with me?," the last part sounded like a squeak. She continued in a high whimper. "I felt that you didn't...want to marry me. I just wo- wouldn't let myself see. I loved you too much! I was so *stupid*, stupid to ever believe in love after all I've seen. And I... Oh Xander, how could you do this?" Her bloodshot eyes gazed straight into his and the pain seared him straight through. His eyes filled with tears at the vision. "Why?" She broke down, sobbing so hysterically that he couldn't make out anything more that she said, other than his name.
Spike watched Xander's eyes fill with tears as the boy walked away, staring at something far off. He sunk down to the floor then, the tears falling fast down his cheeks as he spoke in broken whispers.
"Anya...I'm so sorry. Anya... Please. I just didn't want to hurt you. I know...I've ruined everything. But I just didn't...didn't want him to hurt you...I mean, I didn't want me to hurt you...like he did...Please understand, wherever you are...please, please understand..."
Spike watched in horror. This was far worse than a pink goo-covered Xander, or even a sick Xander ruining his new carpets, this was a crying Xander. Something he'd not really been exposed to before. He knew Xander must've cried when Buffy died. But he had been too caught up in his own emotions to really notice anyone except for Dawn on that day.
He'd never been good with this. People crying. People in emotional pain. Physical pain he could handle, he even enjoyed it. Peoples screams had never bothered him as a vampire, but the pain in people's hearts... From the very beginning, it had been his Achilles' heel. He had tried to overcome it, knew he *must* overcome it. But by that time Angelus had noticed his weakness. That the very kind of thing he loved doing to his prey was the stuff that Spike could not tolerate. Another aggravating part of William's personality that had held. It had been unfortunate, all around. Not only did it make life as a vampire more difficult, but it intrigued Angelus, especially in those early days...
And that weakness had never gone away...
He remembered when he'd come back to Sunnydale, after the Gem of Amara was lost to him because the Slayer had sent it to Peaches, who proved what a stupid git he really was by destroying it... Then he'd been captured by the initiative and escaped. He was practically salivating for Slayer blood. He'd meant to go kill her in her dorm room that night, still unaware of the government chip newly implanted in his brain. He wanted his revenge, wanted to bag his next slayer, finally. Instead, he had happened upon Red. He hadn't minded that. He was more than ready to take her, had a good mind to change her too. Girl would make a great vamp. Would serve the Slayer right too. And then, he hadn't been able to bite her, cause of the chip. Though at the time he had no idea what was wrong with him.
There he was, pacing back and forth, freaking out, attempting in desperate intervals to try and get his fangs into her tender flesh... He kept shaking his head over and over thinking of the curse that seemed to reign down on him whenever he set foot in Sunnyhell. Now he couldn't even feed! Each time he came back things just kept getting worse! But of course, he always came back. Yet, there in the middle of it all, he'd realized the Red was in pain.
"It's me isn't it?," her tiny voice invaded his mind, he heard the pain in it and sliced right through his contemplation of what the hell was wrong with him and how he could bloody fix it before he got captured again.
"What are you talkin' about?," he'd asked, confused by the statement as he continued his pacing.
"Well, you came looking for Buffy and settled. You didn't want to bite me, I just happened to be around."
"Piffle," he waved off the notion. But she wasn't buying it. He could see it in her eyes as she continued and he started to stare at her, concern unknowingly etched itself onto his features along with the confusion at what the girl was thinking. She had been broken by someone, probably the werewolf. She thought she wasn't attractive, thought nobody would want her.
"I know I'm not the kinda girl vamps like to sink their teeth into. It's always like, "Ooo you're like a sister to me," or "Oh, you're such a good friend!" For that moment, just seeing the look on her face, his attention focused, away from the unlife-changing event of no longer being able to feed, to *making her feel better*.
"Don't be ridiculous...," he said looking her in the eye to show his sincerity as he sat down next to her on the bed. "I'd bite you in a heartbeat." She didn't move away from him, didn't flinch. That had made him feel...strange.
"Really?," she asked, her voice laced heavily with the need for reassurance. The girl had bad luck with romance. He could relate. Bloody ludicrous, really. He couldn't imagine why the werewolf had left her, anymore than he could understand why Dru had left him.
"Thought about it."
"When?," she asked, and it struck him as funny the girl sounded so hopeful at the thought that a vampire wanted to kill her.
"Remember last year, you had on that ah..fuzzy pink number with the lilac underneath?," he gave her a pointed look and raised his eyebrows suggestively. Her face lit up.
"I never would've guessed. You played the bloodlust kinda cool." She was actually smiling! Then, more amazing still, he actually smiled back. It was like he couldn't help himself. It looked as if she hadn't smiled in quite a while. He made her smile. And all he had to do was tell the truth.
So it ended up, that instead of trying to kill the slayer's best friend, he'd been busy working on boosting the girl's self esteem! Of course, in turn she had tried to make *him* feel better about the fact that he couldn't bite her. Hell, she'd even encouraged him to try again. Comforting someone who was about to kill you...*that* at least gave him the reassurance that he wasn't the only one who was off his bird.
He had tried to stay out of the Tara incident as well. When her family had come for her, claiming that she was about to turn into a 'disgusting demon,' he had attempted to watch impassively. Really, he had been riveted to the whole scene. Better than one of his favorite soaps, it was. Willow defending her white witch, not even the slightest bit cross with her for almost getting them all killed by casting that spell on them. Buffy acting as if she were about to hand her over to the family willingly, then turning on a dime and telling Tara's father that he would have to come through her if he wanted to take the pixie against her will. He had been as shocked as Tara. Then one by one, the others joined in. Tara had tears in her eyes, moved by their actions and words, protecting her after she had made such a horrible mistake, after she had failed to tell them the truth. He had fought an urge inside him...tried not to be moved by it as well. Still, Tara was torn. Desperately afraid of what she would become and that the others, in the end, would shun her. Looking in her tear-filled eyes, he saw the pain and the fear of rejection by the one she loved. Fear of being rejected by everyone. Then, he didn't just see it in her eyes...he felt it. After he'd figured out what the deal was with her family. The men kept the women almost as slaves, reigning them in with the whole demon trip. And of course, he hadn't been able to stop himself. He'd punched the girl in the nose to prove her humanity. Bloody hurt like hell too when the chip went off.
Something had tugged on his heart, dead as it was, when she chanted in wonder with tears of happiness and freedom glistening still in her big blue eyes, "I'm not a demon." Willow looking at her with love, reaffirming..."You're not a demon." He had hated that.
And he hated this. He *so* hated this. Harris on the ground crying. The witches, the bit and of course Buffy was one thing, or...several things...but Harris! That was something else entirely! He really, *really* hated this. He felt so bad, so unsure. Something was seriously wrong here... Wasn't he supposed to be enjoying this!? Getting his kicks and laughs at the whelp's expense? Why did he feel like this!? It was very disconcerting. In fact, it went way beyond that. It was this unmistakable feeling of what it was like before...
Then Xander's words, sent out to Anya somewhere in the void, caught up to him. A light came on in Spike's eyes. He understood. He couldn't believe he had been so daft as to not have seen it before.
Xander was still on the floor, his knees pulled up to his chest. He crying had subsided somewhat, in that he was no longer openly sobbing and calling out her name, but the tears still silently fell. He was looking down, unable to look at Spike's superior smirk now. It would send him over the edge. 'Maybe I should just ask him to kill me...could be if the victim is willing to die the chip wouldn't send off the negative feedback...Surely that's all it would take to convince him...' He couldn't believe he had lost it like that in front of Spike. 'You know your world has crashed when *that* concern is only secondary...," he thought ruefully. He had lost Anya. 'Anya...'
He sensed Spike sit down a little ways over from him on the floor. He tensed up immediately, preparing for him to say something terrible. Never in a million years ready for what he said instead, in that same strange, serious tone he had used before.
"You're nothing like him, you know..." Spike's voice broke the silence. He dared to glance over at Xander, who was still looking down at his knees. Spike watched a tear fall and hit the boy's hand. He turned away, looking down himself. "You couldn't be, even if you tried." Xander felt his throat constrict, making it hard to swallow the tears he felt rising at Spike's words... The emotions overwhelmed him, both the terror and the relief that he knew... Someone knew. Someone understood it...
There was something else too, in the words themselves as well as in how they were spoken.
It was like when he was in kindergarten. He had hated school...the other kids had picked on him mercilessly and Willow had been his only friend. When they were separated, he had found it unbearable. These times were still within the realm of innocence. When all he felt for both his parents was love and longing to be near to them. Maybe they were even happy back then, he didn't really know.
But he remembered sometimes, his mom would come to the school to help out with something and he would find out in the middle of one of his most terrible days. When it seemed that things could get no more worse, no more unbearable. Out of nowhere, his mom comes and he's rescued. He got to leave school early, with her, after she was finished with whatever she had been doing there to help out. Getting in the car with her...it had felt just like that, getting rescued. She would take his tiny hand in hers. "Bad day?," she would ask knowingly. And he would get that same feeling...the constriction in his throat and the tears that seemed to be rising from the very core of his being. The tears were as much for the relief of having someone who understood how bad it had been, who was trying to help, as for the admission he had to make to himself upon it, that things indeed were bad.
Xander had to shake his head softly at the irony, even as he lost the battle and the new tears escaped from his eyes. He almost laughed it was so ridiculous.
Spike had rescued him.
To Be Continued...
Next time: Spike and Xander talk about their fathers. Hallie crashes and we find out what happened to Willow and Buffy.