The Long Summer 6
Awareness returned in vague trickles, sound first, smell second and sight if he could unglue his eyes from the closed position. He was flat on his back, he could tell that much. Whatever part of his body wasn't aching from some kind of bruise seemed grateful for the prone position.
He dimly remembered ordering a halt to the work on Sunday and so the part of his brain that might have worried about the lack of alarm clock failed to rouse him from this stupor.
Sounds began to penetrate the fog and slowly he put a name to each sound as it was made. Dishes were rattling as though being loaded into a dishwasher. There was a cupboard being opened, then another, then another. The refrigerator was next and a sound that might have been disgust.
It was the last one that caught his attention and he began the onerous process of opening his eyes. Onerous indeed because they were refusing to cooperate; the first lid to peel back slammed shut at the light, which stung the eye underneath.
Groggy and irritated at his own weakness, he fumbled into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes fiercely. More sounds interrupted his concentration and as he convinced his eyes to open enough to squint, he looked around at what was his apartment.
His now clean apartment.
"Oh, this is a nightmare." He moaned a little as a wavery, blonde haired figure swam into view carrying of all absurd things a basket of laundry.
"No, but you smell like one. Might want to shower. Food be here in a bit."
Xander rubbed his eyes harder and resisted the urge to gouge them out as he struggled to get a better grip on what was going on. He looked down at himself first. He was whole and in one piece.
He was still dressed.
So far, so good.
The apartment was next. He recognized the furniture. Okay, check that. The only thing out of place was the blonde vampire who seemed to be almost humming as he put away clothes.
Xander's clothes.
"What are you doing?"
"Playing a hand of gin rummy." Spike tossed over his shoulder carelessly. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Putting away my clothes?" Xander ventured the guess. It sounded as absurd spoken as it did rattling around in his head.
"Good. Figured it in one." Spike nodded approvingly. He turned around and swept up the now empty white laundry basket and made his way across the room. There was a pile of whites near the door and he was adding them to the basket.
"Hey!" Xander shot to his feet, regretting the action the moment it was taken. "That's my underwear!"
Spike sniffed once and gave him a disdainful look. "Well it certainly isn't mine. I'd never let mine get into this state."
"Get your hands off my clothes."
"Ease up there mate and sit down before you fall down. I don't fancy having to lug you around again."
"Again?" Xander sat abruptly, even though his initial urge had been to remain on his feet.
"Yeah, how else do you think you got back here? Tinkerbell?" Spike chuckled and vanished off, Xander's clothes still in his possession.
Swiping his hand over his face, Xander pushed his way to his feet again and walked out into the front room. It was like entering a stranger's apartment. The furniture was his, but everything was straight. The piles of debris clothing, garbage and various boxes were completely straightened.
"Mail's on the table." Spike pointed as he added some detergent to the wash. "I sorted it. Bills in one stack, personal mail in another; I figured you weren't big on the sales so I gave those to Clem when he came by."
"Why did Clem come by?" Xander asked dazedly.
"Pick up a list and some money. Still a bit bright for me to be getting out and about; he told me he would pick up some stuff. You know your refrigerator was empty?"
"Spike – how the hell did you get in my apartment?" Xander's head was spinning; information overload combined with sheer exhaustion was making him feel ill.
"Manager. Nice bloke. Explained the situation, you passing out and all, he let me in so I could get your things, then I went down and brought you up."
"The manager doesn't live here though."
"No, but he runs the building and has keys. Technically he can invite. Small technicality really, but it works."
"But he doesn't even live in the building. Just keeps an apartment, but he doesn't use it."
"We're not going to get passed this anytime soon, are we?" Spike tapped out a cigarette while he was leaning against the refrigerator and lit it.
"It's just – I thought you had to live somewhere to invite someone in."
"Misnomer. You have to be living." Spike grinned. "Good thing to know, eh? Your manager is definitely alive."
"Yeah, great."
They stood in silence, Spike smoking and Xander still trying to come to grips with everything. He looked towards all the windows with their shades tightly drawn. A bit of sunlight peeked around the edges. He could go flip them open and solve a lot of problems all at once.
But for some reason his feet just stayed where they were.
The doorbell rang and Spike moved towards it with an exclamation. He pulled the door open to let in the wrinkly dog-faced demon better known as Clem and Xander watched as the two man-handled grocery bags from the entryway to the kitchen.
"Good man, Clem. Good man. Did you get the --? " Spike looked expectant.
"It's in the cooler. I'll run down and grab it in a minute. They were out of Wheetabix though." Clem apologized. "Hey Xander!" He waved at Xander and Xander started to lift his hand to wave back, but paused in mid-motion to stare at it.
"Want something to eat?" Spike asked. "I can run up a fair omelet I imagine. Watched the Chef on the telly do it enough times."
"I'm not hungry." Xander answered automatically before his stomach growled loud enough to be heard across the room in protest.
"Right." Spike nodded agreeably, pausing to take the cooler from Clem as he returned with it. "Thanks mate. I give you enough money?"
"We're good, Spike. You gonna come play poker tonight?" Clem grinned and Xander found himself staring at the two of them. Maybe he was in the Twilight Zone.
That would explain so much.
"Nah, think I'll hang out here. Keep an eye on." Spike jerked his head towards Xander.
"Okay. Well, give me a call, there's an all night Baywatch coming up soon and a marathon of As Time Goes By on BBC America." Clem grinned. "I like Judith."
Spike chuckled. "I'll give it a whirl."
"Hey, Harris?"
Xander blinked and realized that he'd nodded off leaning against the doorframe. He glanced around and saw Spike setting a plate on the table. "Omelet's ready," Spike informed him. "Sit, eat. Then shower and get some sleep."
"Why are you still here?"
"Brushing up on my Mary Poppins, now have at." Spike pointed his finger imperiously and Xander wandered over to the table. The omelet smelled wonderful and his stomach made a few voracious noises in approval.
"You poison it?"
"Not tonight. I'll save that for when you start annoying me again. Now eat." Spike was somewhere near the washer and dryer again.
Xander ate almost mechanically, but with growing vigor. The omelet was actually very good. Spike wandered past again with another load of folded clothes and Xander stared after him.
Definitely the Twilight Zone.
Awareness returned in vague trickles, sound first, smell second and sight if he could unglue his eyes from the closed position. He was flat on his back, he could tell that much. Whatever part of his body wasn't aching from some kind of bruise seemed grateful for the prone position.
He dimly remembered ordering a halt to the work on Sunday and so the part of his brain that might have worried about the lack of alarm clock failed to rouse him from this stupor.
Sounds began to penetrate the fog and slowly he put a name to each sound as it was made. Dishes were rattling as though being loaded into a dishwasher. There was a cupboard being opened, then another, then another. The refrigerator was next and a sound that might have been disgust.
It was the last one that caught his attention and he began the onerous process of opening his eyes. Onerous indeed because they were refusing to cooperate; the first lid to peel back slammed shut at the light, which stung the eye underneath.
Groggy and irritated at his own weakness, he fumbled into a sitting position and rubbed his eyes fiercely. More sounds interrupted his concentration and as he convinced his eyes to open enough to squint, he looked around at what was his apartment.
His now clean apartment.
"Oh, this is a nightmare." He moaned a little as a wavery, blonde haired figure swam into view carrying of all absurd things a basket of laundry.
"No, but you smell like one. Might want to shower. Food be here in a bit."
Xander rubbed his eyes harder and resisted the urge to gouge them out as he struggled to get a better grip on what was going on. He looked down at himself first. He was whole and in one piece.
He was still dressed.
So far, so good.
The apartment was next. He recognized the furniture. Okay, check that. The only thing out of place was the blonde vampire who seemed to be almost humming as he put away clothes.
Xander's clothes.
"What are you doing?"
"Playing a hand of gin rummy." Spike tossed over his shoulder carelessly. "What does it look like I'm doing?"
"Putting away my clothes?" Xander ventured the guess. It sounded as absurd spoken as it did rattling around in his head.
"Good. Figured it in one." Spike nodded approvingly. He turned around and swept up the now empty white laundry basket and made his way across the room. There was a pile of whites near the door and he was adding them to the basket.
"Hey!" Xander shot to his feet, regretting the action the moment it was taken. "That's my underwear!"
Spike sniffed once and gave him a disdainful look. "Well it certainly isn't mine. I'd never let mine get into this state."
"Get your hands off my clothes."
"Ease up there mate and sit down before you fall down. I don't fancy having to lug you around again."
"Again?" Xander sat abruptly, even though his initial urge had been to remain on his feet.
"Yeah, how else do you think you got back here? Tinkerbell?" Spike chuckled and vanished off, Xander's clothes still in his possession.
Swiping his hand over his face, Xander pushed his way to his feet again and walked out into the front room. It was like entering a stranger's apartment. The furniture was his, but everything was straight. The piles of debris clothing, garbage and various boxes were completely straightened.
"Mail's on the table." Spike pointed as he added some detergent to the wash. "I sorted it. Bills in one stack, personal mail in another; I figured you weren't big on the sales so I gave those to Clem when he came by."
"Why did Clem come by?" Xander asked dazedly.
"Pick up a list and some money. Still a bit bright for me to be getting out and about; he told me he would pick up some stuff. You know your refrigerator was empty?"
"Spike – how the hell did you get in my apartment?" Xander's head was spinning; information overload combined with sheer exhaustion was making him feel ill.
"Manager. Nice bloke. Explained the situation, you passing out and all, he let me in so I could get your things, then I went down and brought you up."
"The manager doesn't live here though."
"No, but he runs the building and has keys. Technically he can invite. Small technicality really, but it works."
"But he doesn't even live in the building. Just keeps an apartment, but he doesn't use it."
"We're not going to get passed this anytime soon, are we?" Spike tapped out a cigarette while he was leaning against the refrigerator and lit it.
"It's just – I thought you had to live somewhere to invite someone in."
"Misnomer. You have to be living." Spike grinned. "Good thing to know, eh? Your manager is definitely alive."
"Yeah, great."
They stood in silence, Spike smoking and Xander still trying to come to grips with everything. He looked towards all the windows with their shades tightly drawn. A bit of sunlight peeked around the edges. He could go flip them open and solve a lot of problems all at once.
But for some reason his feet just stayed where they were.
The doorbell rang and Spike moved towards it with an exclamation. He pulled the door open to let in the wrinkly dog-faced demon better known as Clem and Xander watched as the two man-handled grocery bags from the entryway to the kitchen.
"Good man, Clem. Good man. Did you get the --? " Spike looked expectant.
"It's in the cooler. I'll run down and grab it in a minute. They were out of Wheetabix though." Clem apologized. "Hey Xander!" He waved at Xander and Xander started to lift his hand to wave back, but paused in mid-motion to stare at it.
"Want something to eat?" Spike asked. "I can run up a fair omelet I imagine. Watched the Chef on the telly do it enough times."
"I'm not hungry." Xander answered automatically before his stomach growled loud enough to be heard across the room in protest.
"Right." Spike nodded agreeably, pausing to take the cooler from Clem as he returned with it. "Thanks mate. I give you enough money?"
"We're good, Spike. You gonna come play poker tonight?" Clem grinned and Xander found himself staring at the two of them. Maybe he was in the Twilight Zone.
That would explain so much.
"Nah, think I'll hang out here. Keep an eye on." Spike jerked his head towards Xander.
"Okay. Well, give me a call, there's an all night Baywatch coming up soon and a marathon of As Time Goes By on BBC America." Clem grinned. "I like Judith."
Spike chuckled. "I'll give it a whirl."
"Hey, Harris?"
Xander blinked and realized that he'd nodded off leaning against the doorframe. He glanced around and saw Spike setting a plate on the table. "Omelet's ready," Spike informed him. "Sit, eat. Then shower and get some sleep."
"Why are you still here?"
"Brushing up on my Mary Poppins, now have at." Spike pointed his finger imperiously and Xander wandered over to the table. The omelet smelled wonderful and his stomach made a few voracious noises in approval.
"You poison it?"
"Not tonight. I'll save that for when you start annoying me again. Now eat." Spike was somewhere near the washer and dryer again.
Xander ate almost mechanically, but with growing vigor. The omelet was actually very good. Spike wandered past again with another load of folded clothes and Xander stared after him.
Definitely the Twilight Zone.