Title: That Damn Happiness Clause
Writer: Azure K Mello
Disclaimer- I don't own the shoes I'm currently dancing in what's the likelihood I own anything in Joss' universe? I own the original novels. . . I bought them in Borders, and I own the DVDs. I don't however make money off of this I just seem to spend a lot on it. I in no way intend to infringe copyrights. I'm just entertaining myself, honestly, I'm shocked that anyone's read it.
Setting: After Hero. Keep in mind that I am a strong believer in the fact that one little thing can change the course of history, hence cannon gets meddled with because life took a different path my cannon is not Joss'.
Warning: SLASH Angel/Doyle. Spike/Xander. Don't like, don't read, don't flame.
Thanks to: Poison for being the best Beta I've ever had! I do hope you feel better soon, hon.
Dedicated to Leo, the best cat a girl could ever have, who I had to have put to sleep today. You gave me the best fourteen years of my life and you will always be my best boy.
Section rating: R
Part 17/?
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Doyle walked back into the room and smiled at Xander. "How ye holdin' up?"
"I'm not dead."
"That's a plus," Doyle said as he settled down on the bed next to Xander. Xander rested his head on the man's shoulder and Doyle wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man. "Hey, it's gonna be ok, yeah?" Xander looked up into Doyle's eyes and Doyle took the opportunity to kiss the boy. When he finally broke away he cursed. "God, What am I thinking? I'm sorry, Xander," he said ducking his head in a coy manner. "I love you and I shouldn't be trying to get in your pants."
"Doyle, you don't have to apologize. It's ok," Xander said with a smile. Taking this as an invitation, Doyle plundered the boy's mouth. Both were shocked at the heat. Dead lovers make for cool mouths. This was fire.
"I want you so badly, Xan. Please?"
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"There's one more place I want to go before we go back," Spike said. "Stop by The Alibi Room?"
"This is no time to get drunk," Angel said with a smirk. "You have to go to a funeral tomorrow."
"I have no intention of drinking, *Sire*, I just want to ask dear Willy a question." At the sound of his childe's request Angel smiled wickedly and pulled into the parking lot.
"Allo, Willy," said Spike as he threw the doors open.
"Spike," squeaked the man, "Angel. Umm, what can I get you fellas?"
"No, we just came for a talk," Spike sneered.
"I aint heard nothin'. I'm outta that business."
"Easy now, this is just a talk between friends. How did that Harris woman die?"
"I heard about you and Xander. That's great. I'm so happy for you. Really. That's great."
"How did you hear?" Spike asked, getting pissed that the man never gave straight answers.
"The slayer and the witch were talkin' while patrollin'. One of my customers heard. Wanta place a bet on how long it'll last?" he asked turning to Angel.
Spike cut of his sire's words. "Such sweet girls. So how'd she die, Willy?"
Willy looked confused at the question. "It weren't nothin' odd. She fell down a flight of stairs. Had an aneurysm from repeated blunt trauma two hours later."
Nodding Spike slapped sixty dollars on the bar. He received an odd look from the barkeep which he ignored and instead punched a hole in the faux marble bar top. "That'll cover the damages?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Angel?"
"Yeah we'll go. Thanks Willy," he said, leading his near comatose childe out of the bar. "What are you gonna do?" he asked as he drove them, not trusting Spike's "mad skills" at the moment.
"I can't do anything." He saw the look his sire threw him and added. "He had a nightmare, I made him tell me. But he made me promise I would never hurt the bastard. And it's not out of love. He still fears the rat-fucking bastard," Spike said with venom. "But I promised," he added sounding tired, "and I wouldn't break a promise to him. Not ever."
Angel nodded. "We haven't had this conversation. We did not go to Willy's. We do not know how she died. And I don't know anything about that promise. Ok?" Spike nodded. "Don't worry, ok?" he said as he turned off the car outside the motel rooms. "It's gonna be fine," he assured his boy as they walked into Xander and Spike's room. He cocked his head at the scene in front of them. "Aww, they're so cute." The boys were sprawled over the bed. Smiling, Spike crept over to the bed. "You're not going to wake him are you?" Spike just grinned. "You're as impatient as a child with a present."
"I am a childe with a present," Spike said. Kneeling next to the bed he ran a hand over Xander's shoulder blades. "Xan-pet, wake-up."
Xander just moaned. Opening one eye he fleetingly wondered if his lover would be upset but his fears were pacified as he smelled Spike's arousal. "Why?" he asked petulantly.
"I need you to come out to the car. Only quickly but I need to show you something."
"Can't you just tell me? What is it?"
"The spoils of our blue-collar crime." Xander rolled his eyes but got out of bed and reached for his ruined leather pants. Angel watched appreciatively as the boy dressed. The pants while cracked, stiff, and charred from the beacon had become Xander's favorites. He figured they had to be lucky - they'd saved his life. So while they were falling apart he had still worn them for the trip back praying good fortune.
He followed Spike out obediently though still half asleep. Spike handed him the trunk keys and stood back. Suddenly he said sounding more alert, "Please tell me that there is no one bound and gagged in here. I'm too fucking tired."
"Maybe next time, pet. I told you: this was blue-collar, completely pedestrian." Xander just shook his head. He was learning to respect the fact that Spike *would* get what he wanted.
Resignedly he turned the keys and popped the boot. First confusion swept over his face. He picked up a book from one of the boxes. "Oh god, you stole mom's books for me." he said, his voice flat.
"Is that bad? I thought you would like them. I just thought-" he stopped when Xander turned to him. The moon caught the tears falling down the boy's face making him look inhuman and god-like. "Did I do good?" he asked suddenly confused.
"No, this isn't good . . . This is fucking amazing. Spike, I can't believe . . . Thank-you so much. I don't even . . ."
"Well then don't say anything," he said with a smile. "You're not angry?"
"I'm never angry at you. This is wonderful. I never . . . this is the kindest, most random, and thoughtful act ever."
Spike beamed, one of his rare real smiles. "Let's go to bed, love. You're tired. Tomorrow's gonna be long."
Xander nodded and turned back to the boot of the car. He sorted through some of the books, found what he was looking for, and shut the trunk with a thud. He had a very old copy of Winnie the Pooh in his hand as he walked back into the room. Angel and Doyle were gone and they were alone. He pulled the blonde into bed with him shucking the leather pants as he did. Spike wrapped himself protectively around the boy. "Hey, Spike?" said Xander through the darkness. "Don't let me cry tomorrow? No matter what. 'Cause I don't wanna cry in front of *them*." He said the word with so much pain and frustration.
"Check," Spike said, "I'll beat you bloody before I'll let you shed a tear."
"I love you."
"Always, pet."
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The morning dawned obscenely bright. Xander looked out the window with disgust as Spike straightened the boy's tie. "It should rain on funerals," he said absently while playing with the ring on Spike's finger. Doyle had given it to the man an hour before. Jokingly the man had held out a phonebook and made Spike swear he wouldn't do anything "bad and/or evil" while wearing it. Spike had asked why the phonebook and not a bible. Doyle had told him that he didn't want him to turn up at the cemetery with a red, angry palm: it looked sketch. Spike had laughed.
He kissed Xander's forehead. "Pray hard and maybe it'll bucket down." Xander smiled slightly. "Remember that we're going home *tonight* if this is bad. Ok? Don't worry and if things go to shite in our hands: well, we're leaving," he said. Xander nodded and walked to the bed. He sat Indian style uncaring for his mourning suit. He picked up the book and flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
"Dad can't read and when I was little he didn't like Mom reading to me. I guess I over compensated, 'cause I read this to myself when I was five. Mom and I used to write notes in the margin to each other. I would ask her what words meant and tell her what parts I liked. Every night I would look forward to seeing what she'd written back . . . She wasn't a bad person; she was grossly neglectful and afraid of her husband. She was an awful mother, but only by default. He beat her down to a point where she wouldn't fight back for anyone not herself and not me . . . She drank a lot and she was a mean drunk but I can't fault her. I had my books she had liquor . . . Now she's dead and I hated her. She died while I hated her and wasn't even talking to her. I was supposed to protect her from him. I wasn't even here." His voice hitched as tears fell down his face. Of course Xander knew his father was to blame, he was intelligent. He hadn't been planning on telling the boy, but he was stupid to think Xander *needed* to be told. "What have I done?"
"Nothing, you did nothing wrong. It wasn't your job to take care of her when she didn't want it. It was her responsibility to protect you. What you're feeling? That's grief, plain and simple. It sucks. But it's what makes you human. That aching inside? You feel like you swallowed an apple whole, and it's sitting in your throat? That'll go away. Embrace the pain. You loved her and she knew that damn well. One doesn't need to tell their mother that they love her. She knows already, it goes with the territory: have a kid get a admirer- free." Spike felt so much better; at least Xander was talking to him. That was good. The healing could start now, right? He wished he remembered human grief better. A knock came on the door. "That's Cordy, should I let her in?"
"Yeah," Xander said, scrubbing his face in his hands. "Keep your promise?"
"Of course, Xan-pet."
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Rain started to fall as they walked into the graveyard. "Good job, Xander. Next I'll have you ask god for a box of chocolates and a red bicycle," Spike said with a laugh. He saw someone across the way. "Go ahead you three I'll be right behind." They gave him bemused looks but walked on. Moving like light, Spike was across the cemetery to the other gate in only moments. "Allo, girls," Spike said to Buffy, Willow, and some blonde chit holding Willow's hand. "Look, we're not throwing down, do you hear me?" Willow nodded fervently. Buffy stood coldly. "This is a funeral and you will respect that and not use this as some sort of platform to attack Xander. And that means you will be courteous to everyone with him. That includes me. I would love to throw down with you girlies right here and now but I won't because of *him*. This is his mother's funeral. Slayer, you *will* be polite. If you can't manage that: go home. If you can't say something nice in a warm tone and a smile in your eyes then leave. If you so much as breathe at him in a way I deem inappropriate I will have no qualms in ripping your tongue out."
"Is that a threat?" she asked with a fighter's edge.
"No, it's a pledge." Buffy looked at him, looked down at his ring, practically growled as she left the graveyard. Willow gave him a weak smile. She unlike Buffy had noticed the ring that *wasn't* the gem. She was going to be nice if it killed her. "Hello, Red. You are?" he asked.
"Tara."
"Pretty name," Spike said as they walked to the fresh plot together. He smiled at Xander when he got there and stood close to his boy.
"You are?" asked Mr. Harris.
"He's Alex's roommate, Will," Brian said quickly.
Sunnydale was most likely the most homophobic and bigoted town on the whole west coast. A guy could barely touch a guy without getting lynched. It had happened once while Xander had been in freshman year. He and Jesse had discussed moving that very night. It had been just about then that the game "Anywhere But Here" had been invented. Spike had a theory on the mass prejudice of the town. They couldn't accept that Little Billy had been eaten by a beastie that then walked around wearing his face so they said, "Well hell, let's blame it on the fags." Cute. He fucking *hated* Sunnydale.
"Hi," said Willow tentatively. "Buffy was really sorry she couldn't make it. She had a thing. She said to send her regrets. She's gonna try and swing by the house later." Xander nodded. "I'm so sorry, Xand." He just nodded again with a sad half smile.
The service started and he was saved from having to find something to say to his former best friend. The service was brief, solemn, and few were in attendance. Spike managed to keep a furtive hand on his boy at all time. A calming force seemed to sweep through the boy as he sank back into Spike's touch. The day dragged, there was an unknown, unaccountable time space between the service and going to the Harris'. In that time they had changed out of suits and into plain dark clothes. Xander was back in the ruined leather pants. The group mingled with other mourners
Darkness fell and Angel arrived at the same time as Buffy. He nodded curtly to Spike and Doyle and pulled the girl to a corner. It seemed their conversation consisted of naughty little words being thrown back and forth. She shot a dirty look at Xander and Angel grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eye as he spoke. Spike took this as his queue. He walked over to where Xander was talking to a woman and looking sadly at Buffy.
"Are you one of the caterers?" the woman asked Spike.
"Yes, do try the nibblies." he said warmly in his rather posh accent. "Now I'm sorry, I must steal Mr. Harris away for a moment." He practically pulled Xander from the woman. He steered them past Xander's father, he waved, into a back hall. Spike shut the door behind them and kissed Xander. "You've done so well today. I'm so fucking proud of you," he said, his lips ghosting across his husband's. He sat down on the stairs behind them. "Does anyone come back here?" Xander just shook his head and sat a few stairs below Spike, resting his head on the vampire's thigh. "Ya wanta play that game you love so much?"
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Willow had seen the pair walk into the corridor. She followed quietly hoping to get to say something to Xander, anything, just to let him know she still loved him. She paused at the back door to the corridor; there were three that lead into it. It was slightly ajar when she heard the words fall through it.
"Smothered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream." She heard Xander say. Thank-god it's physically imposable to swallow one's tongue without biting it off first. Oh goddess, she had just walked into a very dirty conversation she never wanted to hear.
"Sounds nummy, pet." Oh Dear God! Willow felt like she was about hyperventilate into unconsciousness.
"So where would you be if you could be anywhere but here?"
"I'd be in the pancake house with you. Though I would forgo the death by chocolate. I could go for bacon."
"You and breakfast meats!"
The statement was met with a soft chuckle. "And I'd want that syrupy stuff to dip it in."
"I thought that was a 'disgusting bloody American' thing to mix meats and sweets."
Again Spike laughed. "Well it is, Xan, but you got me hooked." They fell into silence. Willow couldn't see them but heard after a moment, "Pet, don't cry." A soft reprimand from Spike's lips. Then a little harshly he said, "Xander, stop crying." That made her angry. If her friend wanted to cry then he should cry. This was his mother's funeral! His lover of all people should respect that! "You made me promise I wouldn't let you cry while *they* were around. Don't mug me, I'm sure the witches and the slayer are still out there. So don't cry. Just wait until we get out of here and you can fall into my arms in an endearing yet manly fashion. You didn't want to let them see you hurt, so don't let them." Oh, God, what had she done wondered Willow. How could she have hurt him that *badly*? She heard a shuffling and peaked through the crack of the open door. She watched as Spike picked Xander up and cradled him in his arms. "Remember what I told you to remember?"
"That we can be gone by tonight. Well, now is tonight. This is hell, can we just go?"
"Sure, but you have to tell Angel. If I do he'll yell at me for not being supportive." Xander laughed softly and made to move but Spike held fast. "Give me a few minutes? Just let me hold you a while?" Xander nodded.
"So Whatcha think of that ring?"
"Neat gadget: I didn't freckle."
"You gave it back to Doyle?"
"The minute we got out of light. Were you scared I'd go power trippy?"
"No, I just wondered . . . Thank-you for being here. I couldn't have done this alone."
"There's nowhere I would have rather been . . . well that's not true I'd have rather been *anywhere*. But not if you were here. If I could be anywhere but here . . . well I don't know really. Said the diner . . . but that's because that's where you were."
"Can we go to Canada?"
"Canada?"
"They have 165 gun related deaths a year. Compare that with our 11,127. Let's just go somewhere nonviolent for a few weeks. Could you cope?"
"My legs might cramp but I'll deal. So Canada it is. Though if you really wanted to avoid violence marrying a vampire wasn't the best move."
"It was the *best* move I ever made."
Writer: Azure K Mello
Disclaimer- I don't own the shoes I'm currently dancing in what's the likelihood I own anything in Joss' universe? I own the original novels. . . I bought them in Borders, and I own the DVDs. I don't however make money off of this I just seem to spend a lot on it. I in no way intend to infringe copyrights. I'm just entertaining myself, honestly, I'm shocked that anyone's read it.
Setting: After Hero. Keep in mind that I am a strong believer in the fact that one little thing can change the course of history, hence cannon gets meddled with because life took a different path my cannon is not Joss'.
Warning: SLASH Angel/Doyle. Spike/Xander. Don't like, don't read, don't flame.
Thanks to: Poison for being the best Beta I've ever had! I do hope you feel better soon, hon.
Dedicated to Leo, the best cat a girl could ever have, who I had to have put to sleep today. You gave me the best fourteen years of my life and you will always be my best boy.
Section rating: R
Part 17/?
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Doyle walked back into the room and smiled at Xander. "How ye holdin' up?"
"I'm not dead."
"That's a plus," Doyle said as he settled down on the bed next to Xander. Xander rested his head on the man's shoulder and Doyle wrapped his arms tightly around the younger man. "Hey, it's gonna be ok, yeah?" Xander looked up into Doyle's eyes and Doyle took the opportunity to kiss the boy. When he finally broke away he cursed. "God, What am I thinking? I'm sorry, Xander," he said ducking his head in a coy manner. "I love you and I shouldn't be trying to get in your pants."
"Doyle, you don't have to apologize. It's ok," Xander said with a smile. Taking this as an invitation, Doyle plundered the boy's mouth. Both were shocked at the heat. Dead lovers make for cool mouths. This was fire.
"I want you so badly, Xan. Please?"
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
"There's one more place I want to go before we go back," Spike said. "Stop by The Alibi Room?"
"This is no time to get drunk," Angel said with a smirk. "You have to go to a funeral tomorrow."
"I have no intention of drinking, *Sire*, I just want to ask dear Willy a question." At the sound of his childe's request Angel smiled wickedly and pulled into the parking lot.
"Allo, Willy," said Spike as he threw the doors open.
"Spike," squeaked the man, "Angel. Umm, what can I get you fellas?"
"No, we just came for a talk," Spike sneered.
"I aint heard nothin'. I'm outta that business."
"Easy now, this is just a talk between friends. How did that Harris woman die?"
"I heard about you and Xander. That's great. I'm so happy for you. Really. That's great."
"How did you hear?" Spike asked, getting pissed that the man never gave straight answers.
"The slayer and the witch were talkin' while patrollin'. One of my customers heard. Wanta place a bet on how long it'll last?" he asked turning to Angel.
Spike cut of his sire's words. "Such sweet girls. So how'd she die, Willy?"
Willy looked confused at the question. "It weren't nothin' odd. She fell down a flight of stairs. Had an aneurysm from repeated blunt trauma two hours later."
Nodding Spike slapped sixty dollars on the bar. He received an odd look from the barkeep which he ignored and instead punched a hole in the faux marble bar top. "That'll cover the damages?"
"Yeah."
"Good. Angel?"
"Yeah we'll go. Thanks Willy," he said, leading his near comatose childe out of the bar. "What are you gonna do?" he asked as he drove them, not trusting Spike's "mad skills" at the moment.
"I can't do anything." He saw the look his sire threw him and added. "He had a nightmare, I made him tell me. But he made me promise I would never hurt the bastard. And it's not out of love. He still fears the rat-fucking bastard," Spike said with venom. "But I promised," he added sounding tired, "and I wouldn't break a promise to him. Not ever."
Angel nodded. "We haven't had this conversation. We did not go to Willy's. We do not know how she died. And I don't know anything about that promise. Ok?" Spike nodded. "Don't worry, ok?" he said as he turned off the car outside the motel rooms. "It's gonna be fine," he assured his boy as they walked into Xander and Spike's room. He cocked his head at the scene in front of them. "Aww, they're so cute." The boys were sprawled over the bed. Smiling, Spike crept over to the bed. "You're not going to wake him are you?" Spike just grinned. "You're as impatient as a child with a present."
"I am a childe with a present," Spike said. Kneeling next to the bed he ran a hand over Xander's shoulder blades. "Xan-pet, wake-up."
Xander just moaned. Opening one eye he fleetingly wondered if his lover would be upset but his fears were pacified as he smelled Spike's arousal. "Why?" he asked petulantly.
"I need you to come out to the car. Only quickly but I need to show you something."
"Can't you just tell me? What is it?"
"The spoils of our blue-collar crime." Xander rolled his eyes but got out of bed and reached for his ruined leather pants. Angel watched appreciatively as the boy dressed. The pants while cracked, stiff, and charred from the beacon had become Xander's favorites. He figured they had to be lucky - they'd saved his life. So while they were falling apart he had still worn them for the trip back praying good fortune.
He followed Spike out obediently though still half asleep. Spike handed him the trunk keys and stood back. Suddenly he said sounding more alert, "Please tell me that there is no one bound and gagged in here. I'm too fucking tired."
"Maybe next time, pet. I told you: this was blue-collar, completely pedestrian." Xander just shook his head. He was learning to respect the fact that Spike *would* get what he wanted.
Resignedly he turned the keys and popped the boot. First confusion swept over his face. He picked up a book from one of the boxes. "Oh god, you stole mom's books for me." he said, his voice flat.
"Is that bad? I thought you would like them. I just thought-" he stopped when Xander turned to him. The moon caught the tears falling down the boy's face making him look inhuman and god-like. "Did I do good?" he asked suddenly confused.
"No, this isn't good . . . This is fucking amazing. Spike, I can't believe . . . Thank-you so much. I don't even . . ."
"Well then don't say anything," he said with a smile. "You're not angry?"
"I'm never angry at you. This is wonderful. I never . . . this is the kindest, most random, and thoughtful act ever."
Spike beamed, one of his rare real smiles. "Let's go to bed, love. You're tired. Tomorrow's gonna be long."
Xander nodded and turned back to the boot of the car. He sorted through some of the books, found what he was looking for, and shut the trunk with a thud. He had a very old copy of Winnie the Pooh in his hand as he walked back into the room. Angel and Doyle were gone and they were alone. He pulled the blonde into bed with him shucking the leather pants as he did. Spike wrapped himself protectively around the boy. "Hey, Spike?" said Xander through the darkness. "Don't let me cry tomorrow? No matter what. 'Cause I don't wanna cry in front of *them*." He said the word with so much pain and frustration.
"Check," Spike said, "I'll beat you bloody before I'll let you shed a tear."
"I love you."
"Always, pet."
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The morning dawned obscenely bright. Xander looked out the window with disgust as Spike straightened the boy's tie. "It should rain on funerals," he said absently while playing with the ring on Spike's finger. Doyle had given it to the man an hour before. Jokingly the man had held out a phonebook and made Spike swear he wouldn't do anything "bad and/or evil" while wearing it. Spike had asked why the phonebook and not a bible. Doyle had told him that he didn't want him to turn up at the cemetery with a red, angry palm: it looked sketch. Spike had laughed.
He kissed Xander's forehead. "Pray hard and maybe it'll bucket down." Xander smiled slightly. "Remember that we're going home *tonight* if this is bad. Ok? Don't worry and if things go to shite in our hands: well, we're leaving," he said. Xander nodded and walked to the bed. He sat Indian style uncaring for his mourning suit. He picked up the book and flicked through the pages until he found what he was looking for.
"Dad can't read and when I was little he didn't like Mom reading to me. I guess I over compensated, 'cause I read this to myself when I was five. Mom and I used to write notes in the margin to each other. I would ask her what words meant and tell her what parts I liked. Every night I would look forward to seeing what she'd written back . . . She wasn't a bad person; she was grossly neglectful and afraid of her husband. She was an awful mother, but only by default. He beat her down to a point where she wouldn't fight back for anyone not herself and not me . . . She drank a lot and she was a mean drunk but I can't fault her. I had my books she had liquor . . . Now she's dead and I hated her. She died while I hated her and wasn't even talking to her. I was supposed to protect her from him. I wasn't even here." His voice hitched as tears fell down his face. Of course Xander knew his father was to blame, he was intelligent. He hadn't been planning on telling the boy, but he was stupid to think Xander *needed* to be told. "What have I done?"
"Nothing, you did nothing wrong. It wasn't your job to take care of her when she didn't want it. It was her responsibility to protect you. What you're feeling? That's grief, plain and simple. It sucks. But it's what makes you human. That aching inside? You feel like you swallowed an apple whole, and it's sitting in your throat? That'll go away. Embrace the pain. You loved her and she knew that damn well. One doesn't need to tell their mother that they love her. She knows already, it goes with the territory: have a kid get a admirer- free." Spike felt so much better; at least Xander was talking to him. That was good. The healing could start now, right? He wished he remembered human grief better. A knock came on the door. "That's Cordy, should I let her in?"
"Yeah," Xander said, scrubbing his face in his hands. "Keep your promise?"
"Of course, Xan-pet."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Rain started to fall as they walked into the graveyard. "Good job, Xander. Next I'll have you ask god for a box of chocolates and a red bicycle," Spike said with a laugh. He saw someone across the way. "Go ahead you three I'll be right behind." They gave him bemused looks but walked on. Moving like light, Spike was across the cemetery to the other gate in only moments. "Allo, girls," Spike said to Buffy, Willow, and some blonde chit holding Willow's hand. "Look, we're not throwing down, do you hear me?" Willow nodded fervently. Buffy stood coldly. "This is a funeral and you will respect that and not use this as some sort of platform to attack Xander. And that means you will be courteous to everyone with him. That includes me. I would love to throw down with you girlies right here and now but I won't because of *him*. This is his mother's funeral. Slayer, you *will* be polite. If you can't manage that: go home. If you can't say something nice in a warm tone and a smile in your eyes then leave. If you so much as breathe at him in a way I deem inappropriate I will have no qualms in ripping your tongue out."
"Is that a threat?" she asked with a fighter's edge.
"No, it's a pledge." Buffy looked at him, looked down at his ring, practically growled as she left the graveyard. Willow gave him a weak smile. She unlike Buffy had noticed the ring that *wasn't* the gem. She was going to be nice if it killed her. "Hello, Red. You are?" he asked.
"Tara."
"Pretty name," Spike said as they walked to the fresh plot together. He smiled at Xander when he got there and stood close to his boy.
"You are?" asked Mr. Harris.
"He's Alex's roommate, Will," Brian said quickly.
Sunnydale was most likely the most homophobic and bigoted town on the whole west coast. A guy could barely touch a guy without getting lynched. It had happened once while Xander had been in freshman year. He and Jesse had discussed moving that very night. It had been just about then that the game "Anywhere But Here" had been invented. Spike had a theory on the mass prejudice of the town. They couldn't accept that Little Billy had been eaten by a beastie that then walked around wearing his face so they said, "Well hell, let's blame it on the fags." Cute. He fucking *hated* Sunnydale.
"Hi," said Willow tentatively. "Buffy was really sorry she couldn't make it. She had a thing. She said to send her regrets. She's gonna try and swing by the house later." Xander nodded. "I'm so sorry, Xand." He just nodded again with a sad half smile.
The service started and he was saved from having to find something to say to his former best friend. The service was brief, solemn, and few were in attendance. Spike managed to keep a furtive hand on his boy at all time. A calming force seemed to sweep through the boy as he sank back into Spike's touch. The day dragged, there was an unknown, unaccountable time space between the service and going to the Harris'. In that time they had changed out of suits and into plain dark clothes. Xander was back in the ruined leather pants. The group mingled with other mourners
Darkness fell and Angel arrived at the same time as Buffy. He nodded curtly to Spike and Doyle and pulled the girl to a corner. It seemed their conversation consisted of naughty little words being thrown back and forth. She shot a dirty look at Xander and Angel grabbed her chin and forced her to look him in the eye as he spoke. Spike took this as his queue. He walked over to where Xander was talking to a woman and looking sadly at Buffy.
"Are you one of the caterers?" the woman asked Spike.
"Yes, do try the nibblies." he said warmly in his rather posh accent. "Now I'm sorry, I must steal Mr. Harris away for a moment." He practically pulled Xander from the woman. He steered them past Xander's father, he waved, into a back hall. Spike shut the door behind them and kissed Xander. "You've done so well today. I'm so fucking proud of you," he said, his lips ghosting across his husband's. He sat down on the stairs behind them. "Does anyone come back here?" Xander just shook his head and sat a few stairs below Spike, resting his head on the vampire's thigh. "Ya wanta play that game you love so much?"
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Willow had seen the pair walk into the corridor. She followed quietly hoping to get to say something to Xander, anything, just to let him know she still loved him. She paused at the back door to the corridor; there were three that lead into it. It was slightly ajar when she heard the words fall through it.
"Smothered in chocolate sauce and whipped cream." She heard Xander say. Thank-god it's physically imposable to swallow one's tongue without biting it off first. Oh goddess, she had just walked into a very dirty conversation she never wanted to hear.
"Sounds nummy, pet." Oh Dear God! Willow felt like she was about hyperventilate into unconsciousness.
"So where would you be if you could be anywhere but here?"
"I'd be in the pancake house with you. Though I would forgo the death by chocolate. I could go for bacon."
"You and breakfast meats!"
The statement was met with a soft chuckle. "And I'd want that syrupy stuff to dip it in."
"I thought that was a 'disgusting bloody American' thing to mix meats and sweets."
Again Spike laughed. "Well it is, Xan, but you got me hooked." They fell into silence. Willow couldn't see them but heard after a moment, "Pet, don't cry." A soft reprimand from Spike's lips. Then a little harshly he said, "Xander, stop crying." That made her angry. If her friend wanted to cry then he should cry. This was his mother's funeral! His lover of all people should respect that! "You made me promise I wouldn't let you cry while *they* were around. Don't mug me, I'm sure the witches and the slayer are still out there. So don't cry. Just wait until we get out of here and you can fall into my arms in an endearing yet manly fashion. You didn't want to let them see you hurt, so don't let them." Oh, God, what had she done wondered Willow. How could she have hurt him that *badly*? She heard a shuffling and peaked through the crack of the open door. She watched as Spike picked Xander up and cradled him in his arms. "Remember what I told you to remember?"
"That we can be gone by tonight. Well, now is tonight. This is hell, can we just go?"
"Sure, but you have to tell Angel. If I do he'll yell at me for not being supportive." Xander laughed softly and made to move but Spike held fast. "Give me a few minutes? Just let me hold you a while?" Xander nodded.
"So Whatcha think of that ring?"
"Neat gadget: I didn't freckle."
"You gave it back to Doyle?"
"The minute we got out of light. Were you scared I'd go power trippy?"
"No, I just wondered . . . Thank-you for being here. I couldn't have done this alone."
"There's nowhere I would have rather been . . . well that's not true I'd have rather been *anywhere*. But not if you were here. If I could be anywhere but here . . . well I don't know really. Said the diner . . . but that's because that's where you were."
"Can we go to Canada?"
"Canada?"
"They have 165 gun related deaths a year. Compare that with our 11,127. Let's just go somewhere nonviolent for a few weeks. Could you cope?"
"My legs might cramp but I'll deal. So Canada it is. Though if you really wanted to avoid violence marrying a vampire wasn't the best move."
"It was the *best* move I ever made."