Part 6
They got out of the car in silence and trudged up the stairs. After unlocking the door and inviting the vampire in, Xander went into the kitchen to... //to what? Make some tea? I don't drink tea. I don't even think I have any tea.// He stuck his head out into the living room where Spike was busy going through his CD collection.
"Um, you didn't really want tea, did you?" //Please say no.//
"Don't tell me, you don't have any." Spike smirked.
"Um. So a beer is fine?"
"Sure."
Xander ducked back into the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a couple of beers. All the while thoughts were running through his head at a mile a minute. //Why did I ask him to come back with me? I need time to think. Why did he invite me to the vernissage? Was it so that I would see the portrait, but why didn't he show it to me if that was what he wanted? Why did he paint it in the first place? Why did he name it 'Love'?// There were far too many questions and not nearly enough answers. The only way he would get some answers was simply to ask.
When he stepped back into the living room, Spike had given up on his quest to find a CD he liked and had turned on the television. He had found a soccer-match and was now loudly cheering on one of the teams. The familiarity of the situation made Xander flash back to an evening years ago. The evening that Xander believed to be the reason that Spike left Sunnydale for the last time. They had all thought that he would be back, but the months had passed and reluctantly they had begun to realise that perhaps he was gone for good this time.
That evening so long ago had started out as any other evening. They had been drinking beers and watching a game of soccer on TV, or football as Spike persisted to call it. Spike had been rooting for the team in red shirts, and just to annoy him Xander had picked the other team. The other team, that much to Spike's disdain had had the lead. A typical evening in the Harris household, until their usual banter had turned unexpectedly heated and ended in a searing kiss. Xander couldn't really remember what they had been fighting over. It could have been over whose team was best, over the remote, or over what channel to watch. That wasn't what was important. What was important was that the evening had gone from ordinary to unreal in a matter of second. Xander didn't know if it was the large amount of beer or their shared loneliness, but somehow they had ended up in bed, together.
The next morning Xander didn't know how to act. Should he just ignore it, chalk it up to one more drunken adventure, or what? Spike was no help, he barely said two words the whole day and in the evening they retired to separate beds. That night Xander had laid awake for hours, tossing and turning, trying to get his mind wrapped around what had happened. He didn't know if Spike's silence was because he felt awkward and regretted the previously evening, or if he felt awkward because he *didn't* regret the previous evening.
"Hey, is one of those mine, or are you just gonna stand there 'til they get warm?"
Xander visibly shock himself free from his memories and returned to the present.
"I'm thinking about it. I could always put your beer in the microwave if you're gonna be so ungrateful." //Xander, the harmless bearer of bad jokes,// Xander thought bitterly and handed over one of the bottles to the vampire. He sat down beside the older man, unconsciously choosing to sit on the couch beside him instead of in the chair to his right. This way he could hide his scarred side from view. Or maybe it was a conscious choice. This way he could sit closer to the man that had hunted every good dream he had had for years.
They watched the game for a while in silence; the good camaraderie silence not the uncomfortable one, drank their beers and made occasionally comments on the game. Xander felt a 'so' coming. //Best to get it over with.//
"So."
"So."
//And I didn't see that coming from a mile away. I'll just ask then. What can he do? Act like a drama queen and storm out?//
"Why did you invite me?" //Please don't storm out.//
Spike turned away from the screen and looked at Xander. "I thought it was time to forgive and forget. I have missed you."
//Forgive and forget. That means that he regretted what happened. Ok, I can do this. He wants us to be friends again. I don't know if I can do this.//
"You missed me. Well that's all right then. I'll just forget all these years when I didn't know where you were or what you were doing. For all I knew you could have been dust and I would never have known." The last bit had been nearly shouted, and Xander took a moment to calm himself down. "Didn't you ever think that we might be worried about you. Didn't you ever think that we might be looking for you." Xander couldn't sit still any longer and got up to pace the small room.
"I didn't think." Spike started apologetically.
"No! You didn't think." Xander exclaimed. "You didn't think about how I would feel being the one to run you off and not be able to tell the others why."
"You didn't run me off. Xander, please sit down." Xander reluctantly took his seat again.
"If I didn't run you off, then why did you leave?" He asked sullenly and looked down at his hands that were keeping themselves busy, pealing the label of the beer bottle.
"There were so many reasons." Spike started out hesitantly. "I was still having trouble adjusting to the soul and all that it brought with it." He paused to think and take a swig of beer. "It was a very confusing time. Us sleeping together only made me even more confused. Then, the morning after, when you didn't seem to want to acknowledge what had happened. I guess I felt hurt. I thought it meant something, and you acted like you just wanted to forget about it. So I left. I thought I did the right thing. I felt like I had taken advantage of you. Like I had betrayed your friendship. I didn't want your pity." Spike ended subdued.
"You talk about how you felt and what you wanted. What about what I felt, what I wanted. Do you think you were the only one confused. Do you think that you were the only one that it meant something to." Xander grounded out through clenched teeth. "The only reason why I didn't say anything that morning was that *you* didn't say anything. I thought that you regretted what had happened." Xander was still angry. //How could he just think of himself and leave.// .me, a small voice in the back of his head added.
"Never regretted what happened." Spike hurried to assure the young man. "I regret leaving, but never that night. I am sorry that I didn't talk to you before I left. I was hurting and the guilt didn't let me see things clearly."
"But you're here now." Xander said and left the safety of his hands to look the other man in the eyes. It was high time to leave the hurting subject of the past, and return to the present situation. If Spike was truly sorry, and it sounded like he was, then maybe it was time to forgive and forget. Xander just didn't know what would come next. He had been living with the hurt and guilt for so long that he didn't know what to do if he had to let it go. Maybe he could start living again, really living instead of merely surviving. If it would only be that easy.
"Yes. I'm here now. And I have no intention of leaving again." Spike vowed and looked back into the younger man's eyes, his own eyes filled with sincerity and hopefulness.
"I just have to know, and I want a straight answer." At Spike's nod Xander continued. "Why didn't you stay in touch after leaving? I mean, a postcard a year would have been enough, just so that I knew that you were still alive."
"You didn't know this, but I kept up with what happened in Sunnydale after I left. I wanted to keep you safe so I had some favours called in to keep an eye on you." Spike reached over to Xander and pushed the hair, which had fallen forward to conceal his scarred side, behind his ear. "Apparently they didn't tell me everything. If I had known you had been hurt, I would have been there." Xander shied away from the hand that had come to rest against his left cheek. "What happened?" Spike asked softly.
"I don't want to talk about it. Not now anyway." Xander answered with a shaky voice. Just mentioning it brought back a well full of memories, and he had to blink hard not to let the tears gathering in his eyes fall. "I can't." Xander whispered brokenly and fled into the kitchen.
He leaned against the counter and buried his face in his hands. //I will not cry. I will not cry.// Normally the memories of that traumatic week wouldn't have this kind of power over him, but the evening had been full of emotions and Xander was too tired to ward himself against the feelings. He remained leaning against the counter for a few more minutes, breathing deeply and trying to shake the fear and unease. When he felt that he was once again in control and able to face the vampire, he picked up two fresh beers from the fridge and walked back out into the living room.
The game had ended some time ago and Spike had changed the channel to the one that Xander had silently dubbed 'all reruns, all night'. It was probably the channel that he watched the most. There had been more nights than he cared to acknowledge that he had had trouble sleeping. He put the bottles on the table and sat down.
"I'm sorry I upset you. I won't mention it again." Spike said by way of apologising.
"It's ok." Xander answered, but they both knew that it wasn't.
"The reason that I didn't keep in touch," Spike continued, resuming the earlier conversation, "was that the reports I got about you all said that you were doing fine. They told me that you were battling evil, hanging with the gang." Spike trailed off before seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. "I thought that you were happy. That me leaving was a good thing. That you didn't miss me," Spike ended on a subdued note.
"Of course I missed you, but I couldn't show it to the girls now, could I, 'cause they didn't know that we were that close. I did miss you, never doubt that." Xander firmly stated and took the vampire's hands in his. He looked into Spike's eyes and saw all he could ever hope for: acceptance, respect, friendship and. love. He knew that he was probably imagining the love part, but maybe... Spike had said that he wanted to forgive and forget, and Xander would honour the older man's wishes. If Spike only wanted to be friends he could do that. As long as he was a part of Spike's life he would be happy. //And I have to stop lying to myself before it kills me.//
"You could have called." Xander admonished.
"I know." Spike said ruefully.
"You didn't have to leave."
"I know, I'm sorry."
"So. friends?" //Please say you want to be more than friends.//
"Friends."
And Xander was genuinely happy about that. He really was. Just a week ago, friends had been more than he could ever have hoped for. He smiled happily at Spike and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, trying to convey his feelings. He got a beautiful broad smile in return and his world tilted, almost turning upright. Maybe there was hope yet.
Discussion ended, at least for now, they both turned towards the television and settled down to an episode of Dallas, the one where Bobby came back from the dead in the shower. It didn't take long before Xander was yawning and having a hard time keeping his eyes opened. The last week's suspense and the evening's emotional roller coaster had finally catched up to him and left him drained both physical and psychological. It didn't take long before he was snoring softly, curled up to the man beside him.
Spike turned of the television and carefully draped a blanket, that had been lying over the back of the couch, over the sleeping human. /What am I to do with you Harris?/ He thought. /This friend thing will kill me, but I'll do it for you. Having you in my life again is good enough. It has to be./ He bent down and gingerly touched the scars marring Xander's beautiful face, silently wowing to hunt down whoever had dared to mark his boy, if they wasn't dead already. But knowing the slayer there probably wasn't anything left to hunt. Spike quickly scrabbled down a short message on a legal pad that he had found on the kitchen table, propped it up on the coffee table, and with one last wistful look at the peacefully sleeping man, he left.
They got out of the car in silence and trudged up the stairs. After unlocking the door and inviting the vampire in, Xander went into the kitchen to... //to what? Make some tea? I don't drink tea. I don't even think I have any tea.// He stuck his head out into the living room where Spike was busy going through his CD collection.
"Um, you didn't really want tea, did you?" //Please say no.//
"Don't tell me, you don't have any." Spike smirked.
"Um. So a beer is fine?"
"Sure."
Xander ducked back into the kitchen and opened the fridge to grab a couple of beers. All the while thoughts were running through his head at a mile a minute. //Why did I ask him to come back with me? I need time to think. Why did he invite me to the vernissage? Was it so that I would see the portrait, but why didn't he show it to me if that was what he wanted? Why did he paint it in the first place? Why did he name it 'Love'?// There were far too many questions and not nearly enough answers. The only way he would get some answers was simply to ask.
When he stepped back into the living room, Spike had given up on his quest to find a CD he liked and had turned on the television. He had found a soccer-match and was now loudly cheering on one of the teams. The familiarity of the situation made Xander flash back to an evening years ago. The evening that Xander believed to be the reason that Spike left Sunnydale for the last time. They had all thought that he would be back, but the months had passed and reluctantly they had begun to realise that perhaps he was gone for good this time.
That evening so long ago had started out as any other evening. They had been drinking beers and watching a game of soccer on TV, or football as Spike persisted to call it. Spike had been rooting for the team in red shirts, and just to annoy him Xander had picked the other team. The other team, that much to Spike's disdain had had the lead. A typical evening in the Harris household, until their usual banter had turned unexpectedly heated and ended in a searing kiss. Xander couldn't really remember what they had been fighting over. It could have been over whose team was best, over the remote, or over what channel to watch. That wasn't what was important. What was important was that the evening had gone from ordinary to unreal in a matter of second. Xander didn't know if it was the large amount of beer or their shared loneliness, but somehow they had ended up in bed, together.
The next morning Xander didn't know how to act. Should he just ignore it, chalk it up to one more drunken adventure, or what? Spike was no help, he barely said two words the whole day and in the evening they retired to separate beds. That night Xander had laid awake for hours, tossing and turning, trying to get his mind wrapped around what had happened. He didn't know if Spike's silence was because he felt awkward and regretted the previously evening, or if he felt awkward because he *didn't* regret the previous evening.
"Hey, is one of those mine, or are you just gonna stand there 'til they get warm?"
Xander visibly shock himself free from his memories and returned to the present.
"I'm thinking about it. I could always put your beer in the microwave if you're gonna be so ungrateful." //Xander, the harmless bearer of bad jokes,// Xander thought bitterly and handed over one of the bottles to the vampire. He sat down beside the older man, unconsciously choosing to sit on the couch beside him instead of in the chair to his right. This way he could hide his scarred side from view. Or maybe it was a conscious choice. This way he could sit closer to the man that had hunted every good dream he had had for years.
They watched the game for a while in silence; the good camaraderie silence not the uncomfortable one, drank their beers and made occasionally comments on the game. Xander felt a 'so' coming. //Best to get it over with.//
"So."
"So."
//And I didn't see that coming from a mile away. I'll just ask then. What can he do? Act like a drama queen and storm out?//
"Why did you invite me?" //Please don't storm out.//
Spike turned away from the screen and looked at Xander. "I thought it was time to forgive and forget. I have missed you."
//Forgive and forget. That means that he regretted what happened. Ok, I can do this. He wants us to be friends again. I don't know if I can do this.//
"You missed me. Well that's all right then. I'll just forget all these years when I didn't know where you were or what you were doing. For all I knew you could have been dust and I would never have known." The last bit had been nearly shouted, and Xander took a moment to calm himself down. "Didn't you ever think that we might be worried about you. Didn't you ever think that we might be looking for you." Xander couldn't sit still any longer and got up to pace the small room.
"I didn't think." Spike started apologetically.
"No! You didn't think." Xander exclaimed. "You didn't think about how I would feel being the one to run you off and not be able to tell the others why."
"You didn't run me off. Xander, please sit down." Xander reluctantly took his seat again.
"If I didn't run you off, then why did you leave?" He asked sullenly and looked down at his hands that were keeping themselves busy, pealing the label of the beer bottle.
"There were so many reasons." Spike started out hesitantly. "I was still having trouble adjusting to the soul and all that it brought with it." He paused to think and take a swig of beer. "It was a very confusing time. Us sleeping together only made me even more confused. Then, the morning after, when you didn't seem to want to acknowledge what had happened. I guess I felt hurt. I thought it meant something, and you acted like you just wanted to forget about it. So I left. I thought I did the right thing. I felt like I had taken advantage of you. Like I had betrayed your friendship. I didn't want your pity." Spike ended subdued.
"You talk about how you felt and what you wanted. What about what I felt, what I wanted. Do you think you were the only one confused. Do you think that you were the only one that it meant something to." Xander grounded out through clenched teeth. "The only reason why I didn't say anything that morning was that *you* didn't say anything. I thought that you regretted what had happened." Xander was still angry. //How could he just think of himself and leave.// .me, a small voice in the back of his head added.
"Never regretted what happened." Spike hurried to assure the young man. "I regret leaving, but never that night. I am sorry that I didn't talk to you before I left. I was hurting and the guilt didn't let me see things clearly."
"But you're here now." Xander said and left the safety of his hands to look the other man in the eyes. It was high time to leave the hurting subject of the past, and return to the present situation. If Spike was truly sorry, and it sounded like he was, then maybe it was time to forgive and forget. Xander just didn't know what would come next. He had been living with the hurt and guilt for so long that he didn't know what to do if he had to let it go. Maybe he could start living again, really living instead of merely surviving. If it would only be that easy.
"Yes. I'm here now. And I have no intention of leaving again." Spike vowed and looked back into the younger man's eyes, his own eyes filled with sincerity and hopefulness.
"I just have to know, and I want a straight answer." At Spike's nod Xander continued. "Why didn't you stay in touch after leaving? I mean, a postcard a year would have been enough, just so that I knew that you were still alive."
"You didn't know this, but I kept up with what happened in Sunnydale after I left. I wanted to keep you safe so I had some favours called in to keep an eye on you." Spike reached over to Xander and pushed the hair, which had fallen forward to conceal his scarred side, behind his ear. "Apparently they didn't tell me everything. If I had known you had been hurt, I would have been there." Xander shied away from the hand that had come to rest against his left cheek. "What happened?" Spike asked softly.
"I don't want to talk about it. Not now anyway." Xander answered with a shaky voice. Just mentioning it brought back a well full of memories, and he had to blink hard not to let the tears gathering in his eyes fall. "I can't." Xander whispered brokenly and fled into the kitchen.
He leaned against the counter and buried his face in his hands. //I will not cry. I will not cry.// Normally the memories of that traumatic week wouldn't have this kind of power over him, but the evening had been full of emotions and Xander was too tired to ward himself against the feelings. He remained leaning against the counter for a few more minutes, breathing deeply and trying to shake the fear and unease. When he felt that he was once again in control and able to face the vampire, he picked up two fresh beers from the fridge and walked back out into the living room.
The game had ended some time ago and Spike had changed the channel to the one that Xander had silently dubbed 'all reruns, all night'. It was probably the channel that he watched the most. There had been more nights than he cared to acknowledge that he had had trouble sleeping. He put the bottles on the table and sat down.
"I'm sorry I upset you. I won't mention it again." Spike said by way of apologising.
"It's ok." Xander answered, but they both knew that it wasn't.
"The reason that I didn't keep in touch," Spike continued, resuming the earlier conversation, "was that the reports I got about you all said that you were doing fine. They told me that you were battling evil, hanging with the gang." Spike trailed off before seemingly coming to some sort of conclusion. "I thought that you were happy. That me leaving was a good thing. That you didn't miss me," Spike ended on a subdued note.
"Of course I missed you, but I couldn't show it to the girls now, could I, 'cause they didn't know that we were that close. I did miss you, never doubt that." Xander firmly stated and took the vampire's hands in his. He looked into Spike's eyes and saw all he could ever hope for: acceptance, respect, friendship and. love. He knew that he was probably imagining the love part, but maybe... Spike had said that he wanted to forgive and forget, and Xander would honour the older man's wishes. If Spike only wanted to be friends he could do that. As long as he was a part of Spike's life he would be happy. //And I have to stop lying to myself before it kills me.//
"You could have called." Xander admonished.
"I know." Spike said ruefully.
"You didn't have to leave."
"I know, I'm sorry."
"So. friends?" //Please say you want to be more than friends.//
"Friends."
And Xander was genuinely happy about that. He really was. Just a week ago, friends had been more than he could ever have hoped for. He smiled happily at Spike and gave his hands a reassuring squeeze, trying to convey his feelings. He got a beautiful broad smile in return and his world tilted, almost turning upright. Maybe there was hope yet.
Discussion ended, at least for now, they both turned towards the television and settled down to an episode of Dallas, the one where Bobby came back from the dead in the shower. It didn't take long before Xander was yawning and having a hard time keeping his eyes opened. The last week's suspense and the evening's emotional roller coaster had finally catched up to him and left him drained both physical and psychological. It didn't take long before he was snoring softly, curled up to the man beside him.
Spike turned of the television and carefully draped a blanket, that had been lying over the back of the couch, over the sleeping human. /What am I to do with you Harris?/ He thought. /This friend thing will kill me, but I'll do it for you. Having you in my life again is good enough. It has to be./ He bent down and gingerly touched the scars marring Xander's beautiful face, silently wowing to hunt down whoever had dared to mark his boy, if they wasn't dead already. But knowing the slayer there probably wasn't anything left to hunt. Spike quickly scrabbled down a short message on a legal pad that he had found on the kitchen table, propped it up on the coffee table, and with one last wistful look at the peacefully sleeping man, he left.