Author's Note:    Well, sorry about the length of time it's been since I posted. I could tell you about how my boyfriend came back into town and is totally non-supportive of my fanfic writing, calling it stupid, therefore I avoided doing it while it was Thanksgiving week and he was here… Or I could tell you about how, right before and after he left, I got severely ill with the flu and pharyngitis and couldn't move from bed for three days without help… Oooh! OR I could tell you about how after all THAT wound itself up and I spent my daughter's 1st birthday this week bitching her father out for not putting in an appearance on her birthday of all days, my farkin' PHONE got turned off for a week because the idiot phone company didn't know how to process the payment that I gave them before the due date, therefore making me suffer through three different CSR's telling me that I didn't pay them and it's all my fault. I threatened to catch the next plane to their headquarters, pregnant or not, and kick their asses, and they said I could speak to a supervisor the following Monday, what number would be good to call me back? "Oh, geez, I don't know, the number you DISCONNECTED, perhaps???"  Needless to say, I bitched and threatened and complained, and fully expect to get a free month of phone service for my troubles. I refuse to go through this crap and PAY for it. Would you?    Yeah. I could tell you about all of that, but what would be the point? I have a new chapter up, so enjoy. wink and please pardon the pregnant lady's ranting. I'm a sick, single mom and I don't get out much. So, review the story. It's the only happy I get nowadays. giggles For those of you who asked to see more of Xander, here's your chapter.

Oh. Also: the poem at the beginning of this chapter is one that I found in a book while I was working at a hotel gift shop a couple of months ago. I had to copy it, so sue me. It's not mine. That's my disclaimer. The author's name will appear at the bottom of the poem excerpt. I just know that this poem, when I read it, bowled me over with "Spike and Buffy"ness.

Chapter 9

To love

Means to communicate

To the other

That you are all for him,

That you will never fail him

Or let him down

When he needs you,

But that you will always

Be standing by.

¾ Ashley Montagu

            When Spike came downstairs from the bedroom he shared with Buffy, the first thing he noticed was Xander sitting on the couch. The second thing he noticed was that the man wasn't attempting to end his unlife. He looked around for Willow, but the witch's room upstairs had been empty and a cursory downstairs glance declined to yield her. His mind chimed in with her most likely location: Survey says…school library. He heartily agreed. He wouldn't have wanted to be here after the Slaying of Anya, either. He edged his way casually towards the kitchen to warm himself a cup of blood. He fully intended to high tail it back upstairs before Xander's hands found something sharp and wooden. No love lost there…As the blood warmed, what puzzled him was why Buffy wasn't here, as well. Logically, if Xander was here… well, honestly, there was no logical reason for him to be in the Summers' living room while the Slayer was out dicing his ex-girlfriend. The microwave beeped and Spike gingerly retrieved the mug, heading for the stairs.

            Xander's voice stopped him in his tracks. "Spike… Could you spare a minute?"

            The vampire tilted his head slightly, assessing this bizarre character deviation on the other man's part. However, it wasn't the words that finally convinced him to join the man on the couch, it was the pain in his voice. He knew that pain too well. Anya wasn't dead, but to his little world, she might as well be. He slowly walked to the edge of the living room. "All right," he drawled carefully, keeping a wary eye on Xander.

            Silence reigned in the room for a few minutes, both men not knowing how to begin the conversation. Or even what to converse about. Finally, Xander gestured to the mug that Spike was tentatively sipping at. "You, uh, got enough to last you. Blood, I mean."

            Spike nodded with a hint of his old smirk. "I got what you meant. And yeah, for a few more days. Countin' what's in the freezer…" His voice trailed off as he evaluated the other man. "You were the one that got it the first time, weren't you? Why?"

            Xander glared at the platinum-haired vampire for a moment before shrugging dejectedly and staring at his hands. "Buffy wants you here. You've actually gotten better since you've been out of that basement." He looked at Spike and smirked. "Don't get me wrong: Seeing you all crazy and such was well worth the price of admission," he received a raised eyebrow from the other, which he supposed was better than a raised finger, "but it hurt Buffy seeing you like that. She didn't come back 'wrong' when Willow did that spell…" He stared at his hands again, unable to meet Spike's gaze. "She came back in pieces. Some of them were missing. We just couldn't see that, we were all too obsessed with her being the Slayer and back on the job. We forgot that she was a person, too."

            Spike took a sip of his blood, contemplating his words, before crossing to the armchair and sitting on the edge of it. "She's always been a person, mate. Believe me," he snorted in self-derision, "when I was out to kill her and the rest of you those years ago, I forgot that, too. But whether or not you or I forget it, she'll always be a person, with thoughts, feelings, needs, and fears. Just like you or me."

            Xander spread the hands he was inspecting, still not meeting the blue eyes of the vampire. "It's just… as long as I've known her, she's always been Super-Buffy. You know: 'This doesn't bother me, I'm the Slayer. I'm the One. The Chosen One. The Only One.' Hearing that repeatedly during high school tends to make you believe it…"

            "Maybe she just went on like that to make herself believe it, mate."

            "Yeah…well…" For the first time, Spike noticed that the young man had a flask and was sipping from it infrequently. He watched with interest and more than a little concern as Xander took such a sip now. "Point is, she wasn't happy when she came back. She was looking for something here, on Earth, to replace what she lost when we pulled her out of…" he pointed to the ceiling, "Heaven."

            Spike gave a half-smile. "And I'm to understand what you're saying, with the heaviest of irony, is that she found me."

            Xander snorted once with laughter. "Much with the irony, there, Fang-Boy."

            "Um, could you not call me names? I haven't called you whelp, yet." Spike raised an eyebrow in irritation.

            Xander blinked, then laughed a little. "All right, point taken." He raised his flask. "I'd raise a white flag for the truce, but I seem to be out of flags, at the moment…"

            Spike simply followed the path the flask took to the young man's lips, wondering how he could ask him about his new drinking habit without turning to dust at his hands. "Harris, what's with th' flask?" Granted, not the smoothest approach, he reprimanded himself, but it got attention.

            Xander shrugged. "I'm above legal age, I'm drowning my sorrows. I'm talking to you. Let's just say today's pretty bad."

            "I'll try not to take offense that you included me as evidence in your 'drastic measures'," Spike replied dryly.

            "Well, you did try to rape Buffy, if I were to go listing your offenses, that would be head of my list. Killing a person is one thing, raping them is another. By all rights, you should be fitting neatly into a dust buster right now…"

            "No need to rub it in," Spike said softly, never breaking Xander's gaze. "I know what I did. I'm not proud of it, it's downright shameful for me."

            "Well, I'm still piecing things together about that point in time. I know it's probably none of my business, the whole bunch of it, but I'm really confused. I mean, you want to kill her, but you love her, and you make a Buffybot… And she wants you, but she doesn't admit it, and she beats the crap out of you. Then she dies and comes back. Now, she's using you, you're still in love with her, much boinkage going on that I really didn't want to find out about, and then Riley shows up with his perfect wife and she 'breaks up' with you…" He paused at the pain on the vampire's face. "See where I'm confused? And then …the 'bathroom scene'… and then you leave, for what we think is for good. The thing is, I never saw Buffy so upset as after you left. I always chalked it up to you having just tried to rape her and she wanted to dust you, but no…" He took a swig of his liquor. "It was her missing you, I think. Dawn was pissed at you when I let it slip what happened…but she missed you too. And then you come back all crazy and none of us know what's up with you…"

            "But it's well worth the price of admission," Spike interrupted the monologue with a smirk.

            "Yeah. Something like that." Xander stared into his flask for a moment before holding it out in Spike's direction. "Drink?"

            Spike raised a scarred eyebrow. "If you're offering, I'm drinking." He accepted the flask and took a hearty swig. "Jack Daniels," he murmured appreciatively as he passed the flask back. "Good man."

            "Yeah, I tried to be a 'good man' tonight. What did it get me? I pull a sword out of Anya's chest and she yells at me for stepping in to save her. D'Hoffryn steps in out of nowhere and makes a few snide remarks about me, then kills Halfrek so Anya can be human again. Real ways to spice up the evening, huh? Trade in the death of one vengeance demon for another…Buffy had to take a walk and do some patrolling to make herself feel better, I guess…"

            Spike winced. "So, Anya…?"

            "Remains one hundred percent un-slayed," Xander confirmed with another swig of the flask.

            "So, why the alcohol, mate?" Spike asked softly.

            Taking a deep breath, the younger man looked at him. "Perhaps it's because I finally realized what Cordelia told me a few years ago…" At Spike's confused look, he continued. "I'm nothing crucial to the Scooby Gang. I'm not a vampire slayer, I'm not a vampire – thank God – with superhuman strength, I'm not a witch, I'm not a Key, I'm not a Watcher, I'm not an ex-demon, or anyone with any special powers. I'm just a construction worker with a knack for running two steps faster than the demons chasing me." He fixed the vampire with a baleful gaze. "I'm the Zeppo."

            There was silence for a moment before Spike replied, "Now, I'm sure that's not true. In fact, with the new Big Bad that's coming, you may have an advantage that the others don't have… I'm betting you that the next major thing to come our way will be something only you will be able to deal with properly."

            Xander laughed out loud. "Man, I'm not that drunk yet. Wait until I've downed a little more before you start seeing how gullible I am."

            They shared a laugh, an unusual thing for them to share, since it was something other than hatred. Finally, Spike stood. "All right, well, believe this: It's time to get you back home, before Buffy comes back to find you boozing on her couch. C'mon, I'll walk you back." He was faced with no objections from Xander, who pocketed his flask and attempted to stand on his own.

            "You know, Spike," he told the vampire on their way out the door. "I might be able to work with you after all."

            "Good to hear it."

            Pause. Then, "I still very much hate you…"

            "I know, Harris. Believe me, I haven't forgotten…"

            When she got home after patrolling, she heard the water running in the bathroom upstairs. She slowly climbed the stairs and peered into her bedroom. Her breath was still coming ragged and fast, having exhausted herself with dusting vamps in an effort to forget the course of the evening. There were twigs and blades of grass woven into her blonde hair, and dirt smeared across the back of her outfit. She made a mental note to stop wearing her best outfits when she went out slaying. Steam wafted into her bedroom from the bathroom and she heard a humming, low and sexy. Listening to the familiar tune, she couldn't really place it…Then she noticed the steam smelled like hyacinth and honeysuckle. She frowned. Since when did Spike take scented baths?

            The water stopped running at the same time as the humming ceased. He came out of the bathroom, fully clothed, reaching to the dresser near the door of the bathroom for her towel and washrag set that he had left there. Noticing her, he gave her a small smile.

            "I'll be out of here in a moment, Buffy. Then you can get to the business of getting undressed for your bath." He turned and placed the terry cloth items on the sink and moved to leave her bedroom. She surprised the both of them by catching his arm with her hand and looking into his eyes.

            "You… drew a bath for me? With scented bubbles and everything?" The shock could not have been more evident in her voice.

            "T-that's right," he found himself unable to meet her gaze and wished he could sink through the floor. "Just wanted to give you a way to relax. I know tonight was difficult."

            She was silent for a moment. "You know tonight was difficult, but you also know I didn't kill her…"

            He nodded. "The whelp… Harris, was here. Bit worse for wear, but overall relieved I think. Depressed, but relieved."

            She shook her head and sighed. "Xander…"

            He frowned and lifted her chin with his index finger. "You had it rough tonight, too. Don't forget that." He thought for a moment before spinning her to face the door of the bathroom. "Wait. On second thought, get in there and forget about it."

            She felt him give her a small push towards the bathroom, but stopped and spun back to face him. "Spike," she murmured to his back as he tried to leave.

            He turned. "Yes?"

            Crossing to him, she lifted her face to his and pressed her lips softly against his in a chaste kiss. "Thank you," she whispered. "No one's ever done this for me before. It means more to me than you know."

            As she disappeared into the bathroom, her mind a swirl of confusion regarding Spike and feelings in general, Spike's eyes slowly misted over. "Cor, pet…" he whispered into the emptiness of the bedroom. "I wish you could feel what you do to me…" And he quickly retreated downstairs, grabbing his duster, and went outside for a cigarette. His lips still tingled with fire from contact with her warm ones. Oh, yes. Tonight would be full of wonderful dreams.

TBC! happydance