::::::SUMMARY::::::
With Sunnydale rebuilt after it's destruction, which ended the battle with the first everything should be back to normal right? Wrong, Spike is back from the dead, but to what purpose? He has no clue. Having new feelings for a person he knows he should not doesn't help much either. But when he meets up with that person, on a bright night in the park, things begin to change. And his life molds itself into a portrait of greater happiness than he could have ever perceived possible.
Xander Harris should be celebrating; his life is back to normal. He has his old home back, his old friends, and a new eye, courtesy of a powerful redheaded witch. But he's depressed, with the loss of his ex-daemon love, and many of his friends who died courageously in battle, he doesn't wish to go on. Pouring his soul out that night, to a very intent blonde vampire, he finds that friendship can happen in the most unfamiliar of circumstances. And he decides to ask the one thing that he's been wanting since the day the memories started to return.
But what both men want is something that cannot be done, at least without question and certainly not without fault. And even when the world is new again, Xander fights to keep his sanity intact and his tears at bay. Then spike has a discussion with Tara and a discovery is made, he must cast a spell, to see, to truly see what Xander needs.
Spike sauntered down the deserted Sunnydale Street, reveling in the silence that the night brought. Being a vampire was not very fun, but it had its perks. Clutching tightly to the plastic bag in his left hand he sighed, taking a long low drag of his cigarette.
Walking confidently through Sunnydale Park he kept an eye out for a park bench that wasn't already being used as a bed, either by lovers or bums. Spying one he quickly made his way to it, sitting and smiling as the pressure exerted on his feet from the many hours of walking diminished.
He reached into the plastic bag, pulling out a small Styrofoam container filled with a familiar red liquid. "Bloody Hell." He stated plainly to no one. "The stuffs ice cold, now how's a man supposed to enjoy himself a midnight snack if it's as cold as an Eskimo's balls?"
As he made to place the container back in the white butcher bag a gnawing hunger made itself known in the pit of his stomach. Not one to ignore what his own body told him he nodded resolutely. Quickly morphing into what he had come to know as 'his bumps' he sank his fangs into the plastic lid and tipped the cup, cringing ever so slightly as the cold blood slithered down his throat, stopping the grumble that was becoming more pronounced in his gut.
"'S better than nothing I s'pose." He said, quickly shaking off the looming memories of his days of starvation while in an Initiative holding cell.
Thinking of his initiative days sparked a chain of thoughts. Thoughts he had been trying to repress since latest falling-out with the scoobies. The Scoobies. They were the cause of all his problems; every thing that had gone wrong in his life over the past five years had been somehow linked to them. And yet he had remained determinedly close, though he was sure if they knew the reason why he'd be staked, ashes to ashes, dust to dust and all that other bullshit.
It wasn't because of the bloody slayer; he chuckled at the thought. No the idea of her absolutely repulsed him, nor was it for the little bit, which many of his demon chums believed.
No, to get to the one he wanted you had to go way down, past the werewolf, past the witch, past the key and past the watcher. You had to reach into the lowest part of the bag of scoobies and pull out the carpenter.
Spike knew from the very beginning that the attraction had been wrong. True, he had been know to follow up on the occasional homosexual fantasy, but he had never felt so strongly about a person as he did for Xander.
He closed his eyes, and mentally drew up the image he had long since memorized, the huge puppy dog eyes and silky chocolate curls. Smooth, stubbled, skin and full pouting lips. The body was the thing that always got him though, for a boy who was always considered to be a weakling his muscles would definitely say otherwise. How many times had he watched the rippling sinews move under his perfectly tanned skin? How many times had he savored his sweet scent of sawdust and sandalwood?
If he concentrated he could recall Xander's smell, the feelings he got when the scent filled his nose replicating as he brought the boy to life in his mind. 'So real,' he thought, as he smelled the air. He had been around the boy so much, watched him secret, in shadows, so often that he could almost hear his voice. Wait a minute!
The blonde's brilliant blue eyes flew open to reveal a slightly callused hand waving in front of his face. A hand that connected to a sculpted arm, and lead up to the perfect face of none other than Xander Harris.
"Welcome back to the land of the...non-living." Xander said, making no effort to hide is sarcasm. "Jesus tap dancing Christ, Spike I've been calling your name for almost five minutes! It's ok if you hate my guts because frankly, the feeling is mutual, but least respect me enough to pay attention when I speak."
Spike listened intently to the other boy's words, picking out each emotion in his tones and facial expressions. As far as he could tell the brunette was tired, irritated, and if he wasn't mistaken, a little hurt, most likely not enjoying being ignored. He also detected the ever prominent smell of whiskey that seemed to hang over Xander all of the time now. Noting that the Brunette was drunk, the vampire took none of his biting words to heart.
"Sorry luv, zoned out for a moment there. What can I do you for?" Then searching around for the rest of the scoobies added, "Where's the gang?" Not that he really cared about this last detail.
"They're off Bronzing, having a gay ol' time laughing and dancing the night away, but I...I just didn't have the heart I guess." He hung his head low, voice betraying both shame and deep depression.
Spike's heart melted to hear the man he loved so much hurting this way. Reaching out a tentative hand he held Xander's shoulder in the most comforting gesture he could think of, that wouldn't give away his obvious feelings.
"Want to tell your good friend William about it?" He sighed, as Xander shook violent, convulsing into a fit of sobs. It took a moment but when the dark haired boy had composed himself he spoke.
"I-It's just that, now that they've rebuilt Sunnydale, I'm reminded of all the things we lost to save the retched place. I mean, you came back, all the slayers, we lost, all of the friends we buried, and Anya, I'm never going to see them again and it hurts. The others don't seem to care, about all of the things we've left behind but I do, and this pain it...it's overwhelming.
I really am happy for all the souls we saved, yours included. But our lost seem so...forgotten, and I just don't know how everyone is living. How can they go so long, without shedding a tear? Without remembering all of the things...it's just...I can't bear it...
Listen I know you really don't care, about me or any of the rest of us, but I'm glad you listened to me." Xander leaned ever so slightly into Spikes hand, which still rested firmly on his shoulder.
"It's my pleasure. I've lost a lot of things in my life, hell before I was a vampire nothing was fair, my life was a shambles. The added power and strength was the only thing that kept me going, for almost fifty years. But what am I saying that is the last thing you need.
Listen Xander I want you to know that whenever you need someone to talk to I'll be here to listen. Bein on the other side of the perpetual good vs. evil line has given me some perspective. I miss just as many of the lost as you, but I want you to know, they gave themselves to a greater cause, they're in a better place, and they're happy. Truly, wonderfully happy." Without thinking, without for one second wondering what the consequences may be, he hugged the brunette with all his strength. Feeling the wet heat of tears on his shoulders as the boy cried.
"I-I hate t-to say this S-S-Spike. B-But, I am truly grateful for this." He clutched the blonde with all of his strength, until he fell into a dreamless slumber, contented for the first time in months.
The misty morning air refracted the light of the now rising sun, giving the dawn a pale hazy glow. Stirring as the light penetrated his eyelids, Xander woke, stretching contentedly against cool mass propping up his body. Then he stopped, puzzled, this had not been the first time he'd awoken to a stiff park bench but the smell was definitely unfamiliar. Sniffing, his eyes still closed, he picked up the familiar scent of menthol and citrus soap.
His nose tingled the minty spice serving as a rather indulgent wake up call. Yes he could definitely wake up to this every day, whatever this was. Cracking a head lid he glanced up at his slumbering pillow, the first thing his eyes caught hold of, was the sun, as it bounced playfully off of silken bleached locks, which hung loosely in eyes currently closed in contented slumber. Still groggy his brain did not automatically register the person he was looking at, but he was absolutely positive that whoever it was, they were the most beautiful creature he had ever laid eyes on.
He continued to take in the features of this sleeping angel until the slight smell of burning wood and flesh caught his nose, 'burning people? Bleach blonde hair? Menthol?' his mind began clicking into action until a full thought was formed, and that thought was quickly articulated. "Spike!" he jumped up, watching mortified as smoke began to rise from the slumbering vampire. Wait a minute, why was he still sleeping, why was he not springing away into the shadowed world that has for centuries protected him, and veiled him from the world?
"Spike. SPIKE!" He cried, grabbing the man's shoulders shaking him violently and watching as pale eyelids opened, sharing with the world, the most beautiful blue eyes to ever grace the earth.
"Bleeding hell Xander, why are you shaking me...and what's burning." He leapt up as his mind finally gave the answer. Running as fast as he could under the shade of the nearest covered picnic area. "Thanks mate," he said tapping Xander on the shoulder. "You really saved my skin there. But what in the name of all that is holy are we going to do now. Not a tree for miles and me without my blanket and my duster?"
"Talk?" Xander offered, not quite willing to leave the security of being near his companion. 'Please, please don't say I have to leave spike, please.' He silently pleaded. Trying to convey what he couldn't save through his eyes.
Spike read Xanders expression and without hesitation nodded. "Alright...let's talk."
For hours the men talked, about anything and everything. About how new and hard life was, about how their old lives seemed so much simpler, even though both knew very well that they were anything but. Spike told of his experiences with a new soul, about the eternal torment it brought, but how pleasing it was to know that he was a good man.
Xander talked about his pre and post Buffy days. About how the strange and unfamiliar world of demons and occult and so quickly become your run of the mill everyday deal.
As the new Sunnydale clock tower struck 5:00pm, Xander was pulled out of his flashback haze and into the reality that he still had to endure. Stuck under a picnic awning, with a man he felt so strongly connected to, even as he knew he should hate him.
"What was your life like before you were turned?" Xander asked, letting forth the question that was plaguing his mind. He looked up at Spike, brown eyes waiting. He had to admit it was wonderful to have depth perception again, and he silently thanked Willow for the billionth time for casting that healing and renewing spell.
"It was bloody nightmare, that's what it was." Spike replied, taking his turn at flashbacky haze. "I was a ruddy terrible poet and a completely useless weakling. I never got what I wanted, and I never understood that I deserved better. It was like always being the new kid, I was different, therefore people always made fun of me, but with none of the tact or poise which is used so often today. Nope, it was all straightforward lash and gash insults. That is, until the day Dru changed me, then everything was different. I had power, I had control, and I used it to gain respect, I hungered, and I thirsted, and I took my fill from where ever I could find it. And only now do I see how terrible a man I was. I tell you what, if I ever sire a childe, I'll have the decency to return his soul before he even has a chance to something remotely evil.
I'll have you know that I'm rather good with the magiks, been working very hard and getting real good. I can pull off a souling spell faster than you can say 'good boy,' though; I will never be as good as red. She's the best there'll ever be."
Finishing with his ramble Spike settled into the comfortable silence of thought, enjoying the sensation of knowing that whatever he had just said, was both profound and possibly even intelligent.
And so they sat, they sat for the remaining daylight, until in waned away into nothingness, and the full moon bathed the Earth in a luminous glow.
Spike rose, stretching like a great dog, letting a low growl emanate from his throat and settled into standing, letting his cold useless blood flow back into his legs.
He turned then, and walked out, letting the cool air and shining moonlight dance over his pale skin, offering freedom, and happiness. He turned to see Xander still sitting, unmoving, looking straight at him, almost looking through him, if such a thing were possible, sending low shivers down Spikes spine as he watched.
Walking back over to the younger man Spike took his turn at waving a hand in front the other's eyes. Smiling in satisfaction as Xander shook his head to clear it of the mingled thoughts and emotions.
"Come on pet, let's get you back home where you belong. I'm sure red's missin' you somethin' fierce by now." The blonde smirked turning once more to begin the short trek to the Magic Box, where undoubtedly the scoobie gang was saddling up for another night of patrolling and vamp killage. But before he could walk more that two steps he felt Xanders hot flesh on his own cool wrist pulling him 'round to look into his deep brown eyes.
"Spike...." he trailed off for a moment, "I-I've been thinking about what you said, earlier. About how everything changed when you turned? Well I can't take this pain any more, one more night of openly weeping for all that's gone is going to kill me. I've been trying so hard to end it, and my last option is to jump off the Sunnydale bridge, unless, I mean, um...." he paused, trying to voice the words in his mind. "So I was wondering...w-well I was hoping maybe you could..you know, change me. Make me new again, make me better."
Spike looked back at the shorter man puzzled, was he really asking what he thought he was asking?
"Spike." The man stated. "I want you to make me a vampire."
A/N: I wrote the story in a sleep deprived stupor last night, but upon reading it this morning I thought that it was rather good. So tell me what you think, if you don't like Slash, or X/S then don't flame me, just go away.
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