The Long Summer 18
Xander possessed enough sense to circle the block and grab his truck. Throwing it into gear, he drove wildly out of the alleyway and onto the street. The truck fishtailed with the force that he pushed down on the accelerator. He leaned into the steering wheel, willing the vehicle to speeds beyond its capabilities.
He raced across town and didn't slow an inch until he jerked into his parking space. The keys trembled in his fingers as he dashed up the stairs toward his apartment. The lock resisted the key so Xander forced the issue, shoving his way into his own apartment. He threw the door closed. The locks twitched into place with the twist his wrist.
He stood there in the silence punctuated only by the frenetic beating of his own heart. His mind raced. His stomach roiled. He lurched towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. His stomach emptied itself with a violence that left him holding the wall to keep himself up right.
How long he leaned there, he couldn't be sure. His halting feet carried him to the sink. A splash of cold water helped to rinse out his mouth. More splashes washed his face. He straightened and stared at himself in the mirror.
"You pathetic idiot." The mirror stated quietly. "You ran away."
"Yeah, what else was I supposed to do?" Xander's voice carried defeat like a banner. "I didn't know it was Drusilla."
"So? You've fought demons before."
"Correction, I've struggled with them. Most of the time I get pulverized."
"Pathetic."
"So?" Xander demanded harshly. The sallow face staring back at him filled with malice.
"So? You spend your hours wishing the world would go away and then whimpering because it has. You waste time on projects for people who don't care about you and your letting that creature look after you."
His shoulders slumped. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it?"
"It didn't used to be like that." Xander scooped up another handful of water and splashed his face. It ran in rivulets down his cheeks and dripped onto the porcelein.
"What if I tell you, that you can change all that?" The image in the mirror challenged him.
"I'd tell you that maybe you've had one too many. And I think that's a good idea right about now. Especially since I'm standing in here talking to myself." Xander shut off the light switch and escaped the bathroom.
He couldn't escape his own thoughts. The beer helped. He drained the dregs off the sixth one when the knock sounded at the front door. He turned his bleary gaze from the darkness of the living room to gaze impassively at the door.
"Xander?"
Spike.
Of course.
He stood with care and crossed the room towards the kitchen. The knock sounded at the door again, a bit more insistent this time. Xander reached into the fridge and pulled out the last beer. He uncapped it and wandered back into the living room.
"Xander - you all right mate?" The door muffled Spike's voice.
Xander lifted the beer bottle towards the door in silent salute, but he made no move to open it. Not tonight. The vampire didn't belong here.
Not even one with a soul.
The thought alone encouraged him to take another long drink.
Xander possessed enough sense to circle the block and grab his truck. Throwing it into gear, he drove wildly out of the alleyway and onto the street. The truck fishtailed with the force that he pushed down on the accelerator. He leaned into the steering wheel, willing the vehicle to speeds beyond its capabilities.
He raced across town and didn't slow an inch until he jerked into his parking space. The keys trembled in his fingers as he dashed up the stairs toward his apartment. The lock resisted the key so Xander forced the issue, shoving his way into his own apartment. He threw the door closed. The locks twitched into place with the twist his wrist.
He stood there in the silence punctuated only by the frenetic beating of his own heart. His mind raced. His stomach roiled. He lurched towards the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet in time. His stomach emptied itself with a violence that left him holding the wall to keep himself up right.
How long he leaned there, he couldn't be sure. His halting feet carried him to the sink. A splash of cold water helped to rinse out his mouth. More splashes washed his face. He straightened and stared at himself in the mirror.
"You pathetic idiot." The mirror stated quietly. "You ran away."
"Yeah, what else was I supposed to do?" Xander's voice carried defeat like a banner. "I didn't know it was Drusilla."
"So? You've fought demons before."
"Correction, I've struggled with them. Most of the time I get pulverized."
"Pathetic."
"So?" Xander demanded harshly. The sallow face staring back at him filled with malice.
"So? You spend your hours wishing the world would go away and then whimpering because it has. You waste time on projects for people who don't care about you and your letting that creature look after you."
His shoulders slumped. "It's not like that."
"Isn't it?"
"It didn't used to be like that." Xander scooped up another handful of water and splashed his face. It ran in rivulets down his cheeks and dripped onto the porcelein.
"What if I tell you, that you can change all that?" The image in the mirror challenged him.
"I'd tell you that maybe you've had one too many. And I think that's a good idea right about now. Especially since I'm standing in here talking to myself." Xander shut off the light switch and escaped the bathroom.
He couldn't escape his own thoughts. The beer helped. He drained the dregs off the sixth one when the knock sounded at the front door. He turned his bleary gaze from the darkness of the living room to gaze impassively at the door.
"Xander?"
Spike.
Of course.
He stood with care and crossed the room towards the kitchen. The knock sounded at the door again, a bit more insistent this time. Xander reached into the fridge and pulled out the last beer. He uncapped it and wandered back into the living room.
"Xander - you all right mate?" The door muffled Spike's voice.
Xander lifted the beer bottle towards the door in silent salute, but he made no move to open it. Not tonight. The vampire didn't belong here.
Not even one with a soul.
The thought alone encouraged him to take another long drink.