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. The quote from Romeo and Juliet is from said book by Shakespeare, but honestly I think that's obvious, I mean hell Leo delivered them so well. Shakespeare is a screenwriter, right?. . . that's a joke
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.
Note: I don't know how children with alcoholic parents would react to Doyle's suggestion, so I went with my gut. My step-mum is a socially acceptable drunk but it's not the same. She goes to bed every night hammered off her ass on amoretto and that somehow makes a difference.
Thanks to: Poison for being the fastest Beta I've ever had! I hope you feel better soon! And to Annie for always being there.
Section rating: R
Part 18/?
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It was safe there in Spike's arms. He held Xander and rocked the boy. Humming old tunes softly. For ages they sat and Willow simply watched: transfixed. It was doubtful, in her mind, that Spike didn't see her. But the pain wafting off of her most likely pleased the vampire. She deserved his hatred and to feel this pain. He looked up then and nodded in her direction, maybe her scent betrayed her guilt and he was simply agreeing: yes, she was in fact a horrible person. At the other end of the hall the third door opened and the small Irish man she'd seen earlier walked in.
"How di' I know ye'd be here? This is the mos' depressin' funeral I've ever attained," Doyle said. Willow was shocked that the scene in front of him didn't befuddle the man, as Spike sat coddling the boy. Maybe it wasn't odd to him. But for her to be viewing her best friend being held by someone she thought of as pure evil was strange. Maybe he wasn't a bad guy, or maybe he was but loved Xander. No matter what he *did* love Xander. It confused her, she didn't know what to think anymore: whether to hate Spike for taking Xander from her or to love and thank him for it. The Xander that had walked into the necropolis that day had been mourning but he had been more whole and happy looking than she could ever remember. He looked more confident, less afraid, more sure of his place than he had since before Jess's death. She felt so torn and again Spike looked up at her, now his eyes held a gentle sympathy and empathy yet at the same time they told her not to fuck with him and to not try anything stupid.
"Tell me about it," replied Spike.
"Let's the five o' us go to the pub down the street and hold a real Irish wake an' not mourn her but celebrate her life, yeah?"
"I'd like to be drunk," replied Xander with little enthusiasm and not lifting his head from Spike's shoulder. " il n'y a pas d'infection ici. What a lie. There is nothing but infection here."
"That's the spirit," Cor said, walking in. "I'll be the designated driver. If you want to get gone well leave tomorrow night, I promise you won't remember tomorrow. I've seen Spike hung-over."
"That's the nice way of putting it," Angel said with a laugh as he rounded the corner. "We go?" he asked.
"We go," came the chorus.
"Maybe I should say goodbye to my dad," Xander said hesitantly.
"Don't bother, pet, he's pro'ly drunk already. Call 'im when we get home," Spike said softly as he met Angel's eye. The older man nodded slightly. Xander didn't move to vacate Spike's arms. "Well be right along. Princess wanna drive?" asked Spike tossing her the keys, the others got the message and left. "Do you not want to go, pet? Wassa matta?"
"I don't know. I just feel odd drinking to her; when she died due to, in part, drink. Is it wicked to be toasting her with the murder weapon?" Willow gasped softly neither noticed, or rather Xander didn't and Spike paid no attention.
"I don't know, luv. I'm pretty much wicked through and through. But you aren't. You're a good man, Xander Harris, so I think that whatever you want to do will be fine with god an' yer mum. If you wanna go have a few drinks and toast the woman and hang out with your mates then I'm sure she'd be happy 'bout it," he said as he picked the boy up off his lap and carried him out the backdoor to the car. With a large sigh of relief Spike noticed his sire was in the driver's seat while Cordy was pouting in the back. "Don't worry, Princess, you drink and I'll drive. That way you can have a nice night and not worry about little, old, hung over me." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night went much as Spike had planned. The humans and 'breed got nice and plastered while he and Angel cast each other furtive looks. He had no idea what his Sire had done, but the man had assured Spike that he would take care of the mess and he never lied. They had gone to the Fishbowl hoping to see no one they knew, they had been rewarded. Xander lay against him: inebriated, and happy, humming softly: Early One Morning.
He had sung it to the boy while he cried one night after he had a nightmare about killing his Jess. Spike had rocked his lover for an age and promised he wouldn't let go. Here and now Xander clung to him smiling faintly and humming near tunelessly save at times. Warm fingers ran up the vampire's cool spine. "Don't ever let me go," Xander begged sleepily.
Doyle smiled at the scene and met Spike's eye who then pretended he wasn't doing the "aww" face. Doyle was not drunk, though he went along with the others, he'd barely touched his drink and upon getting a second round had gotten a coke instead. He had shrugged when Angel had given him a look and had settled next to his husband with a self-aware grin. He ducked his head avoiding looking at Angel who was smiling gently in this "I'm so proud" way that *shouldn't* have made a grown man blush. He had never been an alcoholic or a drunk: he was Irish. The Irish were never considered drunks just good healthy Irish lads. And while he'd never been a drunk he felt somewhat cleaner going to bed knowing where and who he was. He had never been addicted nor would he have ever become so due to his demon blood, therefore he didn't feel he was denying himself anything but a hang over.
Much later they had left the bar, just before sunrise in fact. Spike had half carried half guided the boy to the car. Stone cold sober, Spike had speeded back to the motel worrying about the approaching dawn, no cops tried to stop them. The men in blue knew damn well not to stop a car with blacked out windows in Sunnydale. After carrying an almost comatose Xander to the room, he whispered to his lover that he was going out to the parking lot for a fag and a brood, that he'd be back before dawn, and that the boy better stop smirking. He said that he meant brood as in thinking not as in, "allow me now to hate myself and consider the world's problems and how I might fix them with hair gel."
The sky was a dark blue as apposed to the black it had been an hour before. He sat down on the curb next to the car. Lost in his own thoughts it took a moment before he light a cigarette. After only one puff the fag was hit out of his mouth when a boot clad foot slammed into his face. The force of the projected appendage caused the blond vampire to fall backwards and hit his head with a load crack on the concrete path. "It's a good thing I'm dead, Slayer, or Xander would be very angry right about now," Spike said calmly at the same time as he groped for his dropped cigarette. A smile stretched across his face when Buffy kicked him hard in the side of his rib cage, dirty move from an even dirtier slut. "I won't fight you, pet," he said while ignoring the pain, "for some reason Xander still thinks kindly of you so I won't hurt a bleached hair on your head."
A cold laugh came from above him. "What, so you're a good guy now?"
"I prefer to think of myself as the cool antihero," Spike said, finally standing up. "I'm not playing here, bit." She went to hit him again; he blocked but did not fight back. "I won't lower myself to your level. You won't rile me into doing something stupid that would hurt him. I won't give you a reason to stake me. I haven't eaten anyone since before I came here for that damn ring. Haven't killed a soul, have I. So shoo, go find some threat to kill," he said, all the while fending her off.
For over an hour she would not leave, thank the PTB it was a cloudy, dark day. Spike never threw an offensive move into the mix. All the while, she assaulted him with insults and injury. No matter how old and powerful he was, Spike couldn't stand up to a slayer while not actually trying. His lack of enthusiasm, willingness, and interest was a great hindrance. Slowly but surly she backed him up against a wall. Most likely she thought he would lash out like a cornered animal, which was the flaw in all slayers. Slayers think that their opponents aren't smart, are somehow less human than themselves. No matter what she did Spike would not fight back.
"Act evil, Spike. Stop playing!" she screamed punching him hard in the gut.
He laughed softly, "'Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting: villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.'" She laughed and kicked him as he fell, his knees giving out below him. "'I do protest,'" he continued, "'I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou cans't devise. till thou shall know the reason of my love. And so good Capulet who's name I tender as dearly as mine own, Be satisfied.'" He said morphing out and looking up at her. His features were disfigured because of his broken nose and jaw. "Be satisfied." She laughed again dropped her shoulders and stormed off clearly angry that he hadn't risen to the bait.
He watched her back, spat blood from his mouth and picked his long since burned out dog end up off the pavement and looked at the waste with disgust. Limping he walked back to the room, he started to strip off in the dark and paused when he heard Xander gasp. The scent of blood must have sobered the boy up and horary for that new improved night vision, Spike thought bitterly. "It's not as bad as it looks, pet."
"That's good because from where I stand you look like you're half a step away from being dust," Xander said, standing easily and walking to the vampire. Another perk of his link to a vampire, the odd ability to sober up when needed. He ran warm hands over cold flesh. "Jesus, honey." He looked up and saw Spike quickly look away and all the pieces fell into place in his mind. He had seen wounds like these inflicted before and he knew damn well who'd inflicted them. "I'm gonna go have a word," he said coldly in a tone not even Spike would dare to argue with.
He started to move away but Spike held on to his wrist. "Stay with me 'til I fall 'sleep?" he asked quietly. "Need sleep to heal, need you to sleep." Xander said nothing but pulled the man to the bed and laid him down gently.
Xander wrapped himself around the smaller man in a comforting protective way. "I'll be here when you wake up," he said softly. "And as you said earlier, I was really proud of you today."
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. The quote from Romeo and Juliet is from said book by Shakespeare, but honestly I think that's obvious, I mean hell Leo delivered them so well. Shakespeare is a screenwriter, right?. . . that's a joke
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.
Note: I don't know how children with alcoholic parents would react to Doyle's suggestion, so I went with my gut. My step-mum is a socially acceptable drunk but it's not the same. She goes to bed every night hammered off her ass on amoretto and that somehow makes a difference.
Thanks to: Poison for being the fastest Beta I've ever had! I hope you feel better soon! And to Annie for always being there.
Section rating: R
Part 18/?
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
It was safe there in Spike's arms. He held Xander and rocked the boy. Humming old tunes softly. For ages they sat and Willow simply watched: transfixed. It was doubtful, in her mind, that Spike didn't see her. But the pain wafting off of her most likely pleased the vampire. She deserved his hatred and to feel this pain. He looked up then and nodded in her direction, maybe her scent betrayed her guilt and he was simply agreeing: yes, she was in fact a horrible person. At the other end of the hall the third door opened and the small Irish man she'd seen earlier walked in.
"How di' I know ye'd be here? This is the mos' depressin' funeral I've ever attained," Doyle said. Willow was shocked that the scene in front of him didn't befuddle the man, as Spike sat coddling the boy. Maybe it wasn't odd to him. But for her to be viewing her best friend being held by someone she thought of as pure evil was strange. Maybe he wasn't a bad guy, or maybe he was but loved Xander. No matter what he *did* love Xander. It confused her, she didn't know what to think anymore: whether to hate Spike for taking Xander from her or to love and thank him for it. The Xander that had walked into the necropolis that day had been mourning but he had been more whole and happy looking than she could ever remember. He looked more confident, less afraid, more sure of his place than he had since before Jess's death. She felt so torn and again Spike looked up at her, now his eyes held a gentle sympathy and empathy yet at the same time they told her not to fuck with him and to not try anything stupid.
"Tell me about it," replied Spike.
"Let's the five o' us go to the pub down the street and hold a real Irish wake an' not mourn her but celebrate her life, yeah?"
"I'd like to be drunk," replied Xander with little enthusiasm and not lifting his head from Spike's shoulder. " il n'y a pas d'infection ici. What a lie. There is nothing but infection here."
"That's the spirit," Cor said, walking in. "I'll be the designated driver. If you want to get gone well leave tomorrow night, I promise you won't remember tomorrow. I've seen Spike hung-over."
"That's the nice way of putting it," Angel said with a laugh as he rounded the corner. "We go?" he asked.
"We go," came the chorus.
"Maybe I should say goodbye to my dad," Xander said hesitantly.
"Don't bother, pet, he's pro'ly drunk already. Call 'im when we get home," Spike said softly as he met Angel's eye. The older man nodded slightly. Xander didn't move to vacate Spike's arms. "Well be right along. Princess wanna drive?" asked Spike tossing her the keys, the others got the message and left. "Do you not want to go, pet? Wassa matta?"
"I don't know. I just feel odd drinking to her; when she died due to, in part, drink. Is it wicked to be toasting her with the murder weapon?" Willow gasped softly neither noticed, or rather Xander didn't and Spike paid no attention.
"I don't know, luv. I'm pretty much wicked through and through. But you aren't. You're a good man, Xander Harris, so I think that whatever you want to do will be fine with god an' yer mum. If you wanna go have a few drinks and toast the woman and hang out with your mates then I'm sure she'd be happy 'bout it," he said as he picked the boy up off his lap and carried him out the backdoor to the car. With a large sigh of relief Spike noticed his sire was in the driver's seat while Cordy was pouting in the back. "Don't worry, Princess, you drink and I'll drive. That way you can have a nice night and not worry about little, old, hung over me." ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The night went much as Spike had planned. The humans and 'breed got nice and plastered while he and Angel cast each other furtive looks. He had no idea what his Sire had done, but the man had assured Spike that he would take care of the mess and he never lied. They had gone to the Fishbowl hoping to see no one they knew, they had been rewarded. Xander lay against him: inebriated, and happy, humming softly: Early One Morning.
He had sung it to the boy while he cried one night after he had a nightmare about killing his Jess. Spike had rocked his lover for an age and promised he wouldn't let go. Here and now Xander clung to him smiling faintly and humming near tunelessly save at times. Warm fingers ran up the vampire's cool spine. "Don't ever let me go," Xander begged sleepily.
Doyle smiled at the scene and met Spike's eye who then pretended he wasn't doing the "aww" face. Doyle was not drunk, though he went along with the others, he'd barely touched his drink and upon getting a second round had gotten a coke instead. He had shrugged when Angel had given him a look and had settled next to his husband with a self-aware grin. He ducked his head avoiding looking at Angel who was smiling gently in this "I'm so proud" way that *shouldn't* have made a grown man blush. He had never been an alcoholic or a drunk: he was Irish. The Irish were never considered drunks just good healthy Irish lads. And while he'd never been a drunk he felt somewhat cleaner going to bed knowing where and who he was. He had never been addicted nor would he have ever become so due to his demon blood, therefore he didn't feel he was denying himself anything but a hang over.
Much later they had left the bar, just before sunrise in fact. Spike had half carried half guided the boy to the car. Stone cold sober, Spike had speeded back to the motel worrying about the approaching dawn, no cops tried to stop them. The men in blue knew damn well not to stop a car with blacked out windows in Sunnydale. After carrying an almost comatose Xander to the room, he whispered to his lover that he was going out to the parking lot for a fag and a brood, that he'd be back before dawn, and that the boy better stop smirking. He said that he meant brood as in thinking not as in, "allow me now to hate myself and consider the world's problems and how I might fix them with hair gel."
The sky was a dark blue as apposed to the black it had been an hour before. He sat down on the curb next to the car. Lost in his own thoughts it took a moment before he light a cigarette. After only one puff the fag was hit out of his mouth when a boot clad foot slammed into his face. The force of the projected appendage caused the blond vampire to fall backwards and hit his head with a load crack on the concrete path. "It's a good thing I'm dead, Slayer, or Xander would be very angry right about now," Spike said calmly at the same time as he groped for his dropped cigarette. A smile stretched across his face when Buffy kicked him hard in the side of his rib cage, dirty move from an even dirtier slut. "I won't fight you, pet," he said while ignoring the pain, "for some reason Xander still thinks kindly of you so I won't hurt a bleached hair on your head."
A cold laugh came from above him. "What, so you're a good guy now?"
"I prefer to think of myself as the cool antihero," Spike said, finally standing up. "I'm not playing here, bit." She went to hit him again; he blocked but did not fight back. "I won't lower myself to your level. You won't rile me into doing something stupid that would hurt him. I won't give you a reason to stake me. I haven't eaten anyone since before I came here for that damn ring. Haven't killed a soul, have I. So shoo, go find some threat to kill," he said, all the while fending her off.
For over an hour she would not leave, thank the PTB it was a cloudy, dark day. Spike never threw an offensive move into the mix. All the while, she assaulted him with insults and injury. No matter how old and powerful he was, Spike couldn't stand up to a slayer while not actually trying. His lack of enthusiasm, willingness, and interest was a great hindrance. Slowly but surly she backed him up against a wall. Most likely she thought he would lash out like a cornered animal, which was the flaw in all slayers. Slayers think that their opponents aren't smart, are somehow less human than themselves. No matter what she did Spike would not fight back.
"Act evil, Spike. Stop playing!" she screamed punching him hard in the gut.
He laughed softly, "'Tybalt, the reason that I have to love thee doth much excuse the appertaining rage to such a greeting: villain am I none. Therefore farewell. I see thou knowest me not.'" She laughed and kicked him as he fell, his knees giving out below him. "'I do protest,'" he continued, "'I never injured thee, but love thee better than thou cans't devise. till thou shall know the reason of my love. And so good Capulet who's name I tender as dearly as mine own, Be satisfied.'" He said morphing out and looking up at her. His features were disfigured because of his broken nose and jaw. "Be satisfied." She laughed again dropped her shoulders and stormed off clearly angry that he hadn't risen to the bait.
He watched her back, spat blood from his mouth and picked his long since burned out dog end up off the pavement and looked at the waste with disgust. Limping he walked back to the room, he started to strip off in the dark and paused when he heard Xander gasp. The scent of blood must have sobered the boy up and horary for that new improved night vision, Spike thought bitterly. "It's not as bad as it looks, pet."
"That's good because from where I stand you look like you're half a step away from being dust," Xander said, standing easily and walking to the vampire. Another perk of his link to a vampire, the odd ability to sober up when needed. He ran warm hands over cold flesh. "Jesus, honey." He looked up and saw Spike quickly look away and all the pieces fell into place in his mind. He had seen wounds like these inflicted before and he knew damn well who'd inflicted them. "I'm gonna go have a word," he said coldly in a tone not even Spike would dare to argue with.
He started to move away but Spike held on to his wrist. "Stay with me 'til I fall 'sleep?" he asked quietly. "Need sleep to heal, need you to sleep." Xander said nothing but pulled the man to the bed and laid him down gently.
Xander wrapped himself around the smaller man in a comforting protective way. "I'll be here when you wake up," he said softly. "And as you said earlier, I was really proud of you today."