Chapter 2: Having a Drink

AN: There are two of us writing this. We're switching off chapters. Prepare for a change.

Disclaimer: Yes, we own Buffy the Vampire Slayer and House M.D. … on DVD, that is. Where else do you think we do our research for the fanfic? Well, there's also the internet, of course. :D Oh, and Spike's line about chick flick moments isn't ours either… belongs to the people who own Supernatural (not on DVD!)

Spike twisted around in his barstool, looking disdainfully at the bar. "My God, mate… How do you stand these depressing American bars? Or should I say saloons?" he asked loudly, getting a nasty look from the bartender in the process.

Chase shrugged his shoulders. "You get used to it after awhile. Plus, the booze does its job… even if it tastes utterly American…"

His companion winced. "You couldn't have mentioned this before we got to the bar?"

Chase gave him a stunned look. "A, it was your idea, and B, what did you expect in an American bar?"

Spike shrugged. "I dunno… I wasn't thinking at the time…"

"Clearly," his friend whispered not so quietly. Deciding to get to the point before Spike could act upon his innate immaturity, he asked, "What are you doing here anyway, man? My birthday's not for another week."

Spike was quiet for a moment. Then he grabbed the glass in front of him, giving a nod to the bartender. He took a long swig, followed quickly by a disgusted look. "Man, this beer really sucks… If you had told me, I would've brought some good booze back from Germany…"

"Don't change the subject, Spike." Chase took a sip of his own beer and looked intently at his friend.

"Well…" Spike began while stirring the ice in his glass. "I heard about your dad."

Chase grew very quiet. He began to stare at his glass as if it were the most interesting thing in the world. When he spoke, it was like he was in a daze. "It's weird, you know?" He gave a half laugh. "I mean, I hated him for so long, and then… He's just dead. That's it. Dead. Deceased. Not of the living. I don't even know how to feel now."

Spike watched his friend take a good drink of his beer. He knew the history of his friend, knew what he had gone through. Hell, he was his best mate. He was there for the first anniversary of his mum's death, the day he started medical school, even when he started his internship. He was there, and he knew that Rowan certainly wasn't. He knew how much Chase hated him, or just didn't care. Rowan Chase had never sent a birthday card, let alone shown up at one of his rugby matches. But Spike had. He was the one who got him into trouble, and then he was the one who got him out of it – most of the time. And he knew how much that had helped Chase. It was for that that he would never forgive his dad. He would never forgive him for leaving his son like that, letting some old rebel like him take care of Chase instead of his own father. It wasn't that he didn't like helping Chase or being his best mate, on the contrary. He loved it. He just wanted the best for his friend, and Rowan didn't care enough to do that.

But Spike knew that no matter how much Rowan didn't care, no matter how awful of a father he was, Chase would love him. He was his dad, for Christ's sake! The boy couldn't help it. He loved him desperately, hopelessly… God, he was turning into a ponce… Well, the point was Chase loved his dad, and his death was a blow, not to mention that his dad was a bloody idiot and didn't tell him Robert he was dying of cancer. Oh well. Nothing to do but drink some more.

"You've been giving me that bloody pitying look for about five minutes now, Spike. Don't tell me you're turning into a ponce," Chase said with a smug grin.

His friend tossed his bleached blonde head back and laughed. "Yeah right, mate. If anyone was going to turn into a ponce around here, it would be you."

Chase gave him a cheeky smile and shook his head. "Whatever you say, William; whatever you say…"

Spike, in an excellent show of immaturity and being under the influence of alcohol, stuck his tongue out at his Chase.

Chase laughed at his friend and took another sip of his beer. It was good to see Spike after so long, though this was the first time since Seminary boarding school that he had seen just his best friend. "Hey, mate… Where's Drusilla? She's normally attached to the hip with you…"

Spike went very quiet, almost as quiet as Chase had when talking about his dad. "Did you have a fight again?" he asked with a smile. Spike didn't answer. He merely stared at the glass, watching the ice melt slowly into the beer. Chase knew then that it was serious. Spike always had some comeback, something to say. It was only when it was something important, something painful, something… well, serious… that he ever stayed silent.

"Spike…" he asked softly, dreading the bad news to come, "What happened?"

Spike sighed and took a half-hearted swig of his beer before he began to speak. "Me and Dru were on a train. It was back in August, I think… A couple of days before her birthday. She never liked things on her birthday, always a day before so she could enjoy some peace and quiet." A small smile came on his face as he thought about his beloved, though it was betrayed by the sadness storming in his light blue eyes. "She liked trains, too. That's why we were on it… I bought tickets for her 'before birthday.' That's what she called it, her 'before birthday'…" Spike went silent again and took another sip of his beer.

"Well, to make a long story short, there was a wreck. Massive confusion, blood everywhere, smoke and smog, and people screaming loud enough to wake you halfway around the world." He gave a hollow laugh. "That wreck's where I got this scar," he said as he pointed to his left eyebrow. "That's the only injury I got on that bloody wreck. A scar. A small, stupid scar." His eyes grew softer, darker, filled with a raging storm of pain and anger. "Dru wasn't so lucky."

Chase looked on at his friend and felt a tight clenching of dread in his stomach. "Did she…" He paused, unable to bring himself to say the word. He and Drusilla might not have been attached to the hip or even best friends, but she was one of the loveliest people in the world, a person that you couldn't help but like. Plus, Spike was hopelessly in love with her. It would break his best friend if she was gone, if she really was dead…

Spike gave a whispered reply of "No."

Chase wanted to give a sigh of relief that the love of his best friend's life wasn't dead, but there was something in Spike's tone that was ominous, something he feared to hear.

His apprehension grew as Spike turned his head to face him. His eyes were filled with pain and such desperate sorrow that it would have made even devils in Hell openly weep and angels in Heaven with their wings broken from the weight of his pain. It was a pain that easily surpassed his own at the death of his father, and that scared Chase, even more than the prospect of death had.

"There are worse things than death," Spike said in a despondent voice. His eyes bore into Chase's, causing the young doctor to feel a discomfort he had never felt around his best friend before. He paused, simply staring as if he was reliving each moment of the train wreck, each moment he spent with Drusilla. Then he turned his head back to his beer glass, as if he had found what he had been searching for in his best mate's face.

"Hit her head… On a bar, or a window, or something; I don't remember. She just hit her head, bashed her beautiful skull in, and splattered her gorgeous hair with blood. God, it was horrible… My poor Dru…" Something stuck in his throat, and he couldn't speak for a moment. He took a swig of his beer, and he heaved a shuddering intake of breath.

"What happened next was all a blur… We ended up in the hospital somehow, me with my scar and… Dru with her bashed skull. They tried to fix her, but…" He shook his head. "There was too much damage. So, when she opened her eyes next… She wasn't my Dru anymore. She was someone else. She talked all in nonsense about dolls and stars and lambs, just pure and utter nonsense." Spike looked up into Chase's eyes, the tears bright and unchecked in his own. "She couldn't even say 'I love you' without jumbling it up."

Chase put his hand on his friend's shoulder. He felt bad about what happened to Drusilla, for she was not only the love of his best friend's life, but also one of his dearest friends. There wasn't a hangover that Dru wasn't waiting with a washcloth and Advil, nor was there a birthday where she wasn't urging him or Spike to blow at the candles. He could only imagine what his best friend was going through.

Spike gave a grateful smile to his best friend before he continued on with his story. "So, I took care of her for a while, put up with her insanity, listened to her songs and tried to understand without ever succeeding. I tried to take care of her, until one day… One day, I just couldn't do it anymore. I couldn't handle it. So I left, got myself on a plane and ended up here." He took a swig from his mug, only to discover that there was no beer in it. He sighed and set the glass down.

Chase gave a sympathetic smile to his friend. "I'm sorry, mate…"

Spike put his hand up and waved it at the Aussie. "No… What do you call it in America? Chick-Flick moments?" He gave a half-grin at his friend before calling out to the bartender for some more beer.

'Well, Mate! You know you've hit rock bottom when you want more of this trollop," Spike said with a half grin to Chase. His friend laughed at his joke. "So… Are you thinking what I'm thinking, mate?"

Chase gave a toothy grin to his bleached-blonde friend. "Get smashingly, unbelievably drunk, like hangover-before-you're-even-sober drunk to forget we've hit rock bottom?"

Spike nodded enthusiastically, causing both men to laugh before clinging their mugs together to celebrate a night of miserable drunkenness. They did not even care to think about the hangovers they would have the next morning.