Chapter 2: It doesn't matter what I want, doesn't matter what I need. If you've made up your mind to go, I won't beg you to stay.

Shadows Of You

Invisible, I pursue you, but you
remain a step outside my grasp.
I try to reach you, getting closer,
Almost there when I stumble,
indulge myself for a moment.
They aren't you, but they carry
your scent, the ghost of your touch,
the imprint of you on their fingertips.
So near you for a second,
basking where you'd been.
Now I'm farther away from you than ever.

How did we get on this topic again? Xander set down the box of books in Willow's room, careful to leave space for the lamp Buffy was toting. It was kinda weird, moving Will's stuff back in, but a little part of him was intensely happy that the core Scoobies were together again. The only thing that might make him happier would be if Anya would stop popping up in conversation.

"Do you think I should call her?" he suggested. Maybe a long, painful conversation would provide the closure that was obviously lacking in their... was it still a 'relationship'?

"I don't know." Buffy replied, helpfully vague. "Just don't get your hopes up, okay?"

"Hopes?" It took a second, but Xander got the implication. "Oh no, no, no. There are no hopes. I know that Anya and I will never be together again, and I've accepted that. There's nothing wrong with being single. I'm healthy, I've got a good job, and the idea of dating any woman who catches my fancy makes me positively giddy." he assured her with a Xander-patented grin.

"If you want a chance with those hoards of girls ready and waiting to catch your fancy, you might want to lay of the use of words like 'giddy'." Buffy replied, amused. "It tends to move a guy from 'potential date' into 'potential friend' territory."

Xander made a gasp of mock-outrage. "So now I'm being discriminated against by my choice of words? What happened to justice in the world?"

"The same thing that happened to fairness, and the absence of bias in the media today." Dawn offered, Willow nodding sagely next to her. "Face it, dating today is a challenge not to be undertaken lightly."

"I don't know," Xander objected, mind drifting back to the mysterious author of the love poems. "I think that somewhere out there is someone who's lusting after the Xan-man, and she's just waiting for me to find her."

"I don't trust what I see anymore." Spike confessed quietly, sitting in a corner of the school basement. Xander knelt barely two feet away, attention completely on him. "I don't know how to explain it, exactly. It's like, I've been seeing things. People. Who aren't really there. I can feel them, but they aren't there. They can't be there." Spike's voice trailed off into a whisper on the last bit, but Xander didn't ask him to speak up, just let Spike talk at his own pace.

"Dru used to see things, you know?" he glanced up at Xander, fond smile blossoming as he remembered his dark princess. "She'd always be starin' up at the sky watchin' the planets dance or the heavens bleed or some such nonsense." he studied the ceiling now, gaze traveling along the cement foundation as if he could see it too. He grinned a little at Xander. "I used to stare at her and think she'd lost what few wits Angelus left her with." His gaze returned to the ceiling. "But she'd see the sky when we were inside, and it'd make her so happy. She'd see showers and stars and all manner of things." His head fell, and he closed his eyes. "Now I see her."

"Spike." Xander said after a moment of silence, trying to keep Spike focused on the conversation.

"I'm in trouble, Xan." Spike admitted. He'd long given up the idea of being able to fight off the insanity by himself, he knew he needed help.

As if they were on the same brainlength, Xander said, "I can help you."

Spike's attention returned to Xander and they held eye contact for several heartbeats, Xander trying to silently show his sincerity. Finally Spike looked away and exhaled, long and slow. "I could never ask, not after I... with Anya..." he murmured, trailing off. He'd been more than willing to let Xander stake him that night, not even bothering to fight back. He'd seen the look of pure agony and betrayal in Xander's eyes, and he knew he had a major role in hurting Xander so deeply. He still hadn't forgiven himself for that night.

"It's different." Xander insisted. "You're different."

"I could never ask." Spike repeated, staring at the ground as one hand rose to wrap around the back of his neck, fingertips stroking the sensitive skin there. Allowing himself that tiniest of comforts while denying that which he desired most sitting so close...

But Xander was a persistent bugger, and Spike should've known he wouldn't give up that easy. "Spike, it's me. It's you, and it's me, and we'll get through this."

"Never." Spike said again. He didn't deserve Xander's help, and he would not be so bold as to ask for it. Xander leaned closer, laying his hand on top of Spike's, cradling the back of his neck.

Christ, but he felt so warm, pouring out forgiveness with those huge soft brown eyes and that warm-blanket comforting voice, "We'll get through this."

Footsteps got louder and Spike looked up to see Buffy walking towards them. "Spike." she greeted him curtly. "This basement is killing you. This is the Hellmouth. There is something bad down here - possibly everything bad."

Spike glanced at Xander to see what he made of Buffy's statement, but there was nothing but empty space where Xander had been. Spike bit back a sob of despair. Xander wasn't there, Xander had never been there. It was just his mind playing tricks on him again. Poor stupid little vampire, actually believing for a moment that Xander would come rescue him. Xander would never come for him. He began to laugh, a horrible, jerky sound as he let that realization sink in. This Buffy probably wasn't real either, probably just another figment of his imagination. After all, why would a Slayer want to rescue him? "Can't hear you. Can't hear you." Spike chanted to himself aloud.

Buffy looked pissed. "You have a soul? Fine. Show me."

Spike glanced up at her. She might be real after all. A pissy Slayer was much more realistic than a forgiving Xander. "Scream 'Montresor' all you like, pet."

"Get up and get out of this basement." she commanded.

Spike sighed. "I don't have anywhere else to go." he protested after a moment.

"Then I'll find you someplace." Buffy said, turning on her heel and stalking out, leaving Spike alone with the voices in his head.