Shadowlands Chapter 14
Aug. 17th, 2005 07:04 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
lunabee34Title: Shadowlands Part 14
Email: lunabee34@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Disclaimers: The Buffyverse and all its characters belong to Joss Whedon & co. The story is mine.
Summary: Set immediately after the Ats ep "Damage." Xander finds out Spike is alive and comes to L. A. to see for himself.
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
kitty_poker1 You RAWK!!!!! Hard. LOL
Previous Parts flirt shamelessly with each other HERE.
Shadowlands Part 14
“Spike?” Buffy stood with one hand firm against her breast, fingers splayed as if to grip her heart, her face upturned and caught in that expression shared by both rapture and great pain. Xander thought she looked like one of the many saints they’d seen immortalized in bronze in the courtyards of churches between the airport and Buffy’s home. Behind her, Dawn squealed and dropped her boxes, scattering shoes and tissue paper all over the living room floor.
“Spike! You’re alive! I can’t believe it.” Dawn ran to Spike, rocking him back on his heels with the force of her embrace. His arms circled her automatically before he visibly forced his attention from Buffy’s silent, unwavering gaze. Dawn stepped away and put her hands on her hips. “You suck. Don’t ever do that to me again. I really missed you.” Then she hugged him once more, her tears a darkening bloom on his shirt front.
“Missed you, too, Niblet. Missed all you lot.” Spike looked back at Buffy as he said this last, and Xander felt something twist deep in his gut.
Don’t be stupid, Xander. Of course he missed Buffy. He loved her . . . loves her. Doesn’t mean . . . ‘Course he missed her. Xander looked down, unable to bear the tension in the room, the anticipation of Buffy’s words stretching out the air to a fine, brittle point.
Andrew put his hand on Xander’s shoulder and squeezed. Xander leaned back into the touch gratefully. We’ve just had our worst argument—God, our ONLY real argument—and here’s Andrew comforting me like I didn’t just call him a moron with a death wish.
“Where have you been? How’d you come back? Did you go to heaven like Buffy said?” Dawn sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Spike himself looked like a statue, a pale marble figure turned to life, animated by his astonishment at her question. “You told Dawn I went to heaven?”
Buffy smiled, gloriously. “Didn’t you?” She stepped closer, and he put shaking arms around her. Then Dawn was hugging Xander and trying to tell him a million things at once, most of which concerned her new boyfriend, Paolo. When Spike and Buffy seemed unlikely to part any time soon, Angel and Xander shared an awkward glance over the top of Dawn’s head.
Angel had moved away when Dawn rushed Spike, fading into his preferred position in the background. He leaned against the far wall now, something wistful and patient and resigned in his expression. Guess Buffy’s not the only one to get beautiful martyr down pat tonight. And where’s that leave me? “One of these things is not like the other one; one of these things does not belong.” And guess which one—yep, that’d be me, the jealous pirate.
Dawn waved at Angel as she pulled Xander towards the couch. Xander knew that Dawn and Angel had never actually met, but his memories told him that Dawn was afraid of Angel. In the past the monks had created for her, Dawn had been very young when Angel lost his soul on Buffy’s birthday; all she really remembered of him was Angelus. Xander wasn’t surprised that her reception of Angel was cool and distant.
Finally, Buffy pulled back from Spike, who sat beside Xander on the couch as Buffy greeted her other guests. “Angel,” she said simply, and hugged him. Xander thought she looked uncharacteristically fragile next to Angel’s broad bulk. Then Buffy was pulling Xander to his feet and squeezing him so tightly his ribs creaked. Okay, maybe not so fragile.
They sat back down again, Xander sandwiched in between Spike and Buffy, Dawn perched on the arm of the couch closest to Spike. Andrew reclaimed the armchair, and Angel maintained his slouch against the far wall. Before Xander could begin the spiel he’d prepared on the plane ride over, Buffy drew back and popped him sharply against the side of the head.
“Ow!” he said. “What’s that for?”
“Not calling your friends, dumbass. Now, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you in close to a year, Xander. Somehow I don’t think you’re here to make s’mores and watch Bollywood.”
“But we could. Make s’mores, I mean,” Dawn interrupted. “I’m hungry.”
Xander smiled. I’ve really missed this. In three seconds Buffy’s gonna roll her eyes and say something smart. Then Dawn’ll toss her hair over her shoulder and look down her nose at Buffy, but we’ll all be eating smooshy chocolate before you know it. However, the script didn’t play out as Xander predicted; Buffy merely agreed with the caveat that she wasn’t making them and she wasn’t repeating anything anyone said while someone else was making them. Dawn nodded and settled herself more comfortably on the couch arm. Apparently she was willing to sacrifice a sugar high to hear whatever story Xander had to tell. This moment was small, insignificant even, but Xander felt a vague sense of loss and disconnection when he looked at Dawn quietly crossing her legs and smoothing her dress down over her thighs.
“Okay,” Xander said. “Something world endy’s going down, as usual. I know Giles said that Angel can’t be trusted, that Wolfram and Hart has poisoned him, but, Buffy, this is big. Huger than Glory, huger than the First. Giles is—“
“Wrong,” Buffy interrupted. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
~ ~ ~
Xander sighed and flopped down face first on Andrew’s bed. Everyone else was still talking strategy in the living room; he could just barely hear the low hum of their voices through Andrew’s bedroom wall. He’d left the makeshift war council under the pretense that he had to call Giles but, truthfully, Xander was freaking out. Buffy had agreed to help them more readily than he’d ever imagined, and they’d already made and revised (three times, no less) a rather solid set of attack plans. But Xander couldn’t stop thinking about the hallucination he’d had in L.A.—the one where Spike had chosen the Slayer over the Zeppo.
I mean, he’s not throwing himself at her feet and begging her to marry him, but he’s not exactly announcing that he and I are . . . involved, either. And how’s he supposed to do that anyway? Is there a good way for that to just come up in conversation? ‘So, Buffy, I know I said I’d love you for all eternity, but lately I’ve been playing grope and tickle with Xander; isn’t that just the darndest thing?’ Xander put Andrew’s pillow over the back of his head and briefly considered attempting to asphyxiate himself with it. Nah, I’d just pass out and Dawnie’d paint my toenails Bahama Mama yellow or something. And then Spike would choose Buffy for her superior pedicure. Oh well, can’t put this off any longer.
Xander pulled himself upright and slowly punched in the numbers to Giles’s personal phone. It rang several times before Giles answered.
“Hello. Rupert Giles speaking.”
“Hey, Giles. It’s Xander.”
Xander could hear a door closing and the rustling of papers. Then the airwaves were silent for long minutes. “Xander.” Giles paused. Xander imagined that he heard the soft swish swish of a linen handkerchief on glass lenses, and then Giles cleared his throat and began again. “Xander, I owe you an apology. Every word you said to me before is true. You are not the same young man I feared for years ago. You have made mistakes, at times very imprudent ones, but then, so have I. These last years have changed you. You’ve grown into the kind of man I always hoped you’d be—smart, insightful, and willing to give an old fool the what for. You make me proud. I should never have been more willing to trust the judgment of strangers.”
Xander grinned. “No worries, Giles. All is forgiven. How long you been practicing that speech?”
“Since approximately ten minutes after you hung up on me.”
“I hear Lynard Skynard’s good inspirational music.” Giles made a tsk-ing sound, and Xander smiled again. “Seriously, Giles, it means a lot, what you said. I know Buffy’s the one you came to Sunnydale to watch, but I’m sure glad you watched out for the rest of us.”
“Speaking of your former circle, Andrew passed on the news about Cordelia. I understand that you were with her shortly before she died. I’m terribly sorry, Xander. Although her blunt honesty was at times grating, Cordelia was a most extraordinary young woman. She will be missed.”
“Yeah, she will. One of these days, when it’s only apocalypse soonish, we’re gonna have to talk about everything she said. But not today. Giles, I need you to do something. All our plans pretty much hinge on you and Willow being able to pull off some kinda mass teleportation spell. We’re gonna need Slayers, as many as you can send, for this to work, but we also need the element of surprise. Do you think that can be done?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Giles said. “Utilizing the power of the coven at Devon will be essential, but I think we can accomplish that feat. What sort of timeframe do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know; we’ll contact you later with more details. In the meantime, you should make arrangements with the Slayers, choosing which ones will go and that kinda thing. Remember, this is real secret-like and the Senior Partners keep tabs on us. Make sure you ward any conversations about it.”
Giles sighed. “Xander, while I am an admitted old fool, I am not a damned one. I do understand the need for secrecy.”
“Sorry. Listen, I gotta let you go. We’re gonna be leaving soon.”
“Alright, Xander. Take care.”
“Bye, Giles.”
As Xander slipped his cell back into his pocket, Andrew opened the door and closed it behind him quietly. He sat down on the bed beside Xander and threw him an unopened beer.
“Thanks,” Xander said and used the hem of his shirt to twist the cap off. “So, what’s going on out there?”
“Not much. Angel is still in the corner making cow eyes at Buffy, Dawn’s interrupting her every two sentences, and Spike and Buffy are still sitting with a Xander-shaped space between them.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess.” Xander took a long swallow of beer. “Andrew, about Ethan. I’m dropping it, okay? I’m chewing you out about stuff I don’t even understand. When all this is over and we get five minutes, explain it to me, alright?”
“Okay. Thanks.” Andrew looked like he was about to say something more, but Dawn’s short knock, followed by her entrance, prevented him.
“Xander, what’s going on with you and Spike?” Dawn crossed her arms and leveled a stare at him.
Xander looked quickly at Andrew, who shrugged. “Ummm….what do you mean, going on with me and Spike?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I mean, the whole time you were in the living room you kept looking at him the way Angel’s looking at Buffy. You know, like you were going to throw up but were really, really sad about it. And when you left the room, Spike kinda shook himself like he’d been daydreaming or something. Now he keeps staring at this wall,” she pointed behind her, “and squinting like he’s trying to listen to whatever you’re doing in here. So, what’s going on with you and Spike?”
Xander looked again at Andrew, who again shrugged. “Well, it’s complicated. We’re, ah, we’re kinda . . .” He poked Andrew sharply in the side. “A little help here, please.”
“Well, Dawn, Spike and Xander’s situation is very similar to the one between Jean Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher. You see, early in his career Picard’s best friend was Dr. Crusher’s husband. Unfortunately, this worthy man, whose name and rank escapes me at the moment, which is weird, ‘cause I hardly ever forget things like that. But anyway, this worthy man died and eventually Picard became captain of that most glorious of vessels, the Starship Enterprise, and Dr. Crusher became his chief medical officer. Over time they fell madly in love, but always in between them was the shadow of her slain husband.”
Xander looked at Andrew incredulously. “You think that’s helping?”
Andrew pulled nervously on a loose thread that hung from the bottom of his jeans. “Not really. But I cave under pressure. You know that. It’s your fault for asking.”
Suddenly Dawn gasped and pointed at Xander. “Oh my god! You’re Captain Picard! I mean, you and Spike have a thing!”
“Shhhhh, Dawnie. I don’t think the neighbors heard you. Yes, me and Spike have a thing. Actually, that’s a really good way of putting it. We have a thing. A largely undefined thing.”
Dawn sat in Andrew’s desk chair. “A thing that might be screwed up now that he’s seen Buffy again.”
“Yeah. When did you get so grown up, Dawn?”
She smiled at him a little sadly. “I’ve always been grown up. I’m older than you are. A lot older.” But then she giggled and bounced in her seat. “Oh, man. This is crazy. I never knew you were gay. I never knew Spike was gay. This is so cool.”
Xander snorted. “Well, I’m glad you think so, Dawnie. Although, to be fair, I guess we’re really both bisexual. And I cannot believe I’m talking to you about this.”
Andrew stood up. “Maybe I should get more beer.” He opened the door, pulling the doorknob from Buffy’s loose grip. Spike and Angel stood behind her in the hall and followed her inside.
“Okay, I guess the party’s moved.” Xander drained the last lukewarm and frothy sip of beer from the bottle and set it on Andrew’s night stand. “What’s up?”
Buffy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Spike said . . . Spike said that you and he are dating. Is that true?”
Xander looked at Spike. Spike seemed a little anxious about Buffy’s reaction, but he still smiled at Xander encouragingly. “Yes.”
“Oh.” Buffy sat down on the bed beside Xander. “That’s unexpected.” She laughed a little. “Okay, this is really weird. But not bad. Ummmm…. It’s good, even. How did . . . why . . .I don’t even know what to ask.” She reached out and poked Andrew sharply in the side. “Alright, gay man, help me here.”
Andrew took a deep breath, but Spike beat him to the punch. “Buffy, I don’t expect you to understand. I know it seems off, me and Harris, after everything that happened back in Sunnydale. But there’s something between us, something that feels right in a way that what we had never did.”
Buffy twisted a silver ring around and around her index finger. She looked up then at Spike. “I don’t exactly understand, but I can say I’m happy for you both. Too many of us end up alone for this not to be a good thing.”
~ ~ ~
Spike and Angel climbed into the backseat of the taxi as Xander gave Buffy one last hug goodbye. The night air was cool and damp, and from somewhere Xander could hear the faint sound of running water.
“Bye, Buffy. I promise I won’t be so long between visits.”
“You better not be. I miss you, Xander. We all do. Please call Willow. It really hurts her that you won’t call.”
“I will. Again, I promise.” Xander bent his head to her ear and whispered, “Angel’s soul is anchored now. He can never become Angelus again. Just thought you should know.” And then he kissed her on the cheek and climbed into the taxi, rolling down the window to catch Dawn's and Andrew’s last, frantic goodbyes.
TBC
Email: lunabee34@yahoo.com
Rating: NC-17 (overall)
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Disclaimers: The Buffyverse and all its characters belong to Joss Whedon & co. The story is mine.
Summary: Set immediately after the Ats ep "Damage." Xander finds out Spike is alive and comes to L. A. to see for himself.
Beta:
kitty_poker1 You RAWK!!!!! Hard. LOLPrevious Parts flirt shamelessly with each other HERE.
Shadowlands Part 14
“Spike?” Buffy stood with one hand firm against her breast, fingers splayed as if to grip her heart, her face upturned and caught in that expression shared by both rapture and great pain. Xander thought she looked like one of the many saints they’d seen immortalized in bronze in the courtyards of churches between the airport and Buffy’s home. Behind her, Dawn squealed and dropped her boxes, scattering shoes and tissue paper all over the living room floor.
“Spike! You’re alive! I can’t believe it.” Dawn ran to Spike, rocking him back on his heels with the force of her embrace. His arms circled her automatically before he visibly forced his attention from Buffy’s silent, unwavering gaze. Dawn stepped away and put her hands on her hips. “You suck. Don’t ever do that to me again. I really missed you.” Then she hugged him once more, her tears a darkening bloom on his shirt front.
“Missed you, too, Niblet. Missed all you lot.” Spike looked back at Buffy as he said this last, and Xander felt something twist deep in his gut.
Don’t be stupid, Xander. Of course he missed Buffy. He loved her . . . loves her. Doesn’t mean . . . ‘Course he missed her. Xander looked down, unable to bear the tension in the room, the anticipation of Buffy’s words stretching out the air to a fine, brittle point.
Andrew put his hand on Xander’s shoulder and squeezed. Xander leaned back into the touch gratefully. We’ve just had our worst argument—God, our ONLY real argument—and here’s Andrew comforting me like I didn’t just call him a moron with a death wish.
“Where have you been? How’d you come back? Did you go to heaven like Buffy said?” Dawn sniffled and wiped her eyes on her sleeve.
Spike himself looked like a statue, a pale marble figure turned to life, animated by his astonishment at her question. “You told Dawn I went to heaven?”
Buffy smiled, gloriously. “Didn’t you?” She stepped closer, and he put shaking arms around her. Then Dawn was hugging Xander and trying to tell him a million things at once, most of which concerned her new boyfriend, Paolo. When Spike and Buffy seemed unlikely to part any time soon, Angel and Xander shared an awkward glance over the top of Dawn’s head.
Angel had moved away when Dawn rushed Spike, fading into his preferred position in the background. He leaned against the far wall now, something wistful and patient and resigned in his expression. Guess Buffy’s not the only one to get beautiful martyr down pat tonight. And where’s that leave me? “One of these things is not like the other one; one of these things does not belong.” And guess which one—yep, that’d be me, the jealous pirate.
Dawn waved at Angel as she pulled Xander towards the couch. Xander knew that Dawn and Angel had never actually met, but his memories told him that Dawn was afraid of Angel. In the past the monks had created for her, Dawn had been very young when Angel lost his soul on Buffy’s birthday; all she really remembered of him was Angelus. Xander wasn’t surprised that her reception of Angel was cool and distant.
Finally, Buffy pulled back from Spike, who sat beside Xander on the couch as Buffy greeted her other guests. “Angel,” she said simply, and hugged him. Xander thought she looked uncharacteristically fragile next to Angel’s broad bulk. Then Buffy was pulling Xander to his feet and squeezing him so tightly his ribs creaked. Okay, maybe not so fragile.
They sat back down again, Xander sandwiched in between Spike and Buffy, Dawn perched on the arm of the couch closest to Spike. Andrew reclaimed the armchair, and Angel maintained his slouch against the far wall. Before Xander could begin the spiel he’d prepared on the plane ride over, Buffy drew back and popped him sharply against the side of the head.
“Ow!” he said. “What’s that for?”
“Not calling your friends, dumbass. Now, what’s going on? I haven’t seen you in close to a year, Xander. Somehow I don’t think you’re here to make s’mores and watch Bollywood.”
“But we could. Make s’mores, I mean,” Dawn interrupted. “I’m hungry.”
Xander smiled. I’ve really missed this. In three seconds Buffy’s gonna roll her eyes and say something smart. Then Dawn’ll toss her hair over her shoulder and look down her nose at Buffy, but we’ll all be eating smooshy chocolate before you know it. However, the script didn’t play out as Xander predicted; Buffy merely agreed with the caveat that she wasn’t making them and she wasn’t repeating anything anyone said while someone else was making them. Dawn nodded and settled herself more comfortably on the couch arm. Apparently she was willing to sacrifice a sugar high to hear whatever story Xander had to tell. This moment was small, insignificant even, but Xander felt a vague sense of loss and disconnection when he looked at Dawn quietly crossing her legs and smoothing her dress down over her thighs.
“Okay,” Xander said. “Something world endy’s going down, as usual. I know Giles said that Angel can’t be trusted, that Wolfram and Hart has poisoned him, but, Buffy, this is big. Huger than Glory, huger than the First. Giles is—“
“Wrong,” Buffy interrupted. “Just tell me what you want me to do.”
~ ~ ~
Xander sighed and flopped down face first on Andrew’s bed. Everyone else was still talking strategy in the living room; he could just barely hear the low hum of their voices through Andrew’s bedroom wall. He’d left the makeshift war council under the pretense that he had to call Giles but, truthfully, Xander was freaking out. Buffy had agreed to help them more readily than he’d ever imagined, and they’d already made and revised (three times, no less) a rather solid set of attack plans. But Xander couldn’t stop thinking about the hallucination he’d had in L.A.—the one where Spike had chosen the Slayer over the Zeppo.
I mean, he’s not throwing himself at her feet and begging her to marry him, but he’s not exactly announcing that he and I are . . . involved, either. And how’s he supposed to do that anyway? Is there a good way for that to just come up in conversation? ‘So, Buffy, I know I said I’d love you for all eternity, but lately I’ve been playing grope and tickle with Xander; isn’t that just the darndest thing?’ Xander put Andrew’s pillow over the back of his head and briefly considered attempting to asphyxiate himself with it. Nah, I’d just pass out and Dawnie’d paint my toenails Bahama Mama yellow or something. And then Spike would choose Buffy for her superior pedicure. Oh well, can’t put this off any longer.
Xander pulled himself upright and slowly punched in the numbers to Giles’s personal phone. It rang several times before Giles answered.
“Hello. Rupert Giles speaking.”
“Hey, Giles. It’s Xander.”
Xander could hear a door closing and the rustling of papers. Then the airwaves were silent for long minutes. “Xander.” Giles paused. Xander imagined that he heard the soft swish swish of a linen handkerchief on glass lenses, and then Giles cleared his throat and began again. “Xander, I owe you an apology. Every word you said to me before is true. You are not the same young man I feared for years ago. You have made mistakes, at times very imprudent ones, but then, so have I. These last years have changed you. You’ve grown into the kind of man I always hoped you’d be—smart, insightful, and willing to give an old fool the what for. You make me proud. I should never have been more willing to trust the judgment of strangers.”
Xander grinned. “No worries, Giles. All is forgiven. How long you been practicing that speech?”
“Since approximately ten minutes after you hung up on me.”
“I hear Lynard Skynard’s good inspirational music.” Giles made a tsk-ing sound, and Xander smiled again. “Seriously, Giles, it means a lot, what you said. I know Buffy’s the one you came to Sunnydale to watch, but I’m sure glad you watched out for the rest of us.”
“Speaking of your former circle, Andrew passed on the news about Cordelia. I understand that you were with her shortly before she died. I’m terribly sorry, Xander. Although her blunt honesty was at times grating, Cordelia was a most extraordinary young woman. She will be missed.”
“Yeah, she will. One of these days, when it’s only apocalypse soonish, we’re gonna have to talk about everything she said. But not today. Giles, I need you to do something. All our plans pretty much hinge on you and Willow being able to pull off some kinda mass teleportation spell. We’re gonna need Slayers, as many as you can send, for this to work, but we also need the element of surprise. Do you think that can be done?”
“Yes, I believe so,” Giles said. “Utilizing the power of the coven at Devon will be essential, but I think we can accomplish that feat. What sort of timeframe do you have in mind?”
“I don’t know; we’ll contact you later with more details. In the meantime, you should make arrangements with the Slayers, choosing which ones will go and that kinda thing. Remember, this is real secret-like and the Senior Partners keep tabs on us. Make sure you ward any conversations about it.”
Giles sighed. “Xander, while I am an admitted old fool, I am not a damned one. I do understand the need for secrecy.”
“Sorry. Listen, I gotta let you go. We’re gonna be leaving soon.”
“Alright, Xander. Take care.”
“Bye, Giles.”
As Xander slipped his cell back into his pocket, Andrew opened the door and closed it behind him quietly. He sat down on the bed beside Xander and threw him an unopened beer.
“Thanks,” Xander said and used the hem of his shirt to twist the cap off. “So, what’s going on out there?”
“Not much. Angel is still in the corner making cow eyes at Buffy, Dawn’s interrupting her every two sentences, and Spike and Buffy are still sitting with a Xander-shaped space between them.”
“Well, that’s something, I guess.” Xander took a long swallow of beer. “Andrew, about Ethan. I’m dropping it, okay? I’m chewing you out about stuff I don’t even understand. When all this is over and we get five minutes, explain it to me, alright?”
“Okay. Thanks.” Andrew looked like he was about to say something more, but Dawn’s short knock, followed by her entrance, prevented him.
“Xander, what’s going on with you and Spike?” Dawn crossed her arms and leveled a stare at him.
Xander looked quickly at Andrew, who shrugged. “Ummm….what do you mean, going on with me and Spike?”
Dawn rolled her eyes. “I mean, the whole time you were in the living room you kept looking at him the way Angel’s looking at Buffy. You know, like you were going to throw up but were really, really sad about it. And when you left the room, Spike kinda shook himself like he’d been daydreaming or something. Now he keeps staring at this wall,” she pointed behind her, “and squinting like he’s trying to listen to whatever you’re doing in here. So, what’s going on with you and Spike?”
Xander looked again at Andrew, who again shrugged. “Well, it’s complicated. We’re, ah, we’re kinda . . .” He poked Andrew sharply in the side. “A little help here, please.”
“Well, Dawn, Spike and Xander’s situation is very similar to the one between Jean Luc Picard and Beverly Crusher. You see, early in his career Picard’s best friend was Dr. Crusher’s husband. Unfortunately, this worthy man, whose name and rank escapes me at the moment, which is weird, ‘cause I hardly ever forget things like that. But anyway, this worthy man died and eventually Picard became captain of that most glorious of vessels, the Starship Enterprise, and Dr. Crusher became his chief medical officer. Over time they fell madly in love, but always in between them was the shadow of her slain husband.”
Xander looked at Andrew incredulously. “You think that’s helping?”
Andrew pulled nervously on a loose thread that hung from the bottom of his jeans. “Not really. But I cave under pressure. You know that. It’s your fault for asking.”
Suddenly Dawn gasped and pointed at Xander. “Oh my god! You’re Captain Picard! I mean, you and Spike have a thing!”
“Shhhhh, Dawnie. I don’t think the neighbors heard you. Yes, me and Spike have a thing. Actually, that’s a really good way of putting it. We have a thing. A largely undefined thing.”
Dawn sat in Andrew’s desk chair. “A thing that might be screwed up now that he’s seen Buffy again.”
“Yeah. When did you get so grown up, Dawn?”
She smiled at him a little sadly. “I’ve always been grown up. I’m older than you are. A lot older.” But then she giggled and bounced in her seat. “Oh, man. This is crazy. I never knew you were gay. I never knew Spike was gay. This is so cool.”
Xander snorted. “Well, I’m glad you think so, Dawnie. Although, to be fair, I guess we’re really both bisexual. And I cannot believe I’m talking to you about this.”
Andrew stood up. “Maybe I should get more beer.” He opened the door, pulling the doorknob from Buffy’s loose grip. Spike and Angel stood behind her in the hall and followed her inside.
“Okay, I guess the party’s moved.” Xander drained the last lukewarm and frothy sip of beer from the bottle and set it on Andrew’s night stand. “What’s up?”
Buffy took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “Spike said . . . Spike said that you and he are dating. Is that true?”
Xander looked at Spike. Spike seemed a little anxious about Buffy’s reaction, but he still smiled at Xander encouragingly. “Yes.”
“Oh.” Buffy sat down on the bed beside Xander. “That’s unexpected.” She laughed a little. “Okay, this is really weird. But not bad. Ummmm…. It’s good, even. How did . . . why . . .I don’t even know what to ask.” She reached out and poked Andrew sharply in the side. “Alright, gay man, help me here.”
Andrew took a deep breath, but Spike beat him to the punch. “Buffy, I don’t expect you to understand. I know it seems off, me and Harris, after everything that happened back in Sunnydale. But there’s something between us, something that feels right in a way that what we had never did.”
Buffy twisted a silver ring around and around her index finger. She looked up then at Spike. “I don’t exactly understand, but I can say I’m happy for you both. Too many of us end up alone for this not to be a good thing.”
~ ~ ~
Spike and Angel climbed into the backseat of the taxi as Xander gave Buffy one last hug goodbye. The night air was cool and damp, and from somewhere Xander could hear the faint sound of running water.
“Bye, Buffy. I promise I won’t be so long between visits.”
“You better not be. I miss you, Xander. We all do. Please call Willow. It really hurts her that you won’t call.”
“I will. Again, I promise.” Xander bent his head to her ear and whispered, “Angel’s soul is anchored now. He can never become Angelus again. Just thought you should know.” And then he kissed her on the cheek and climbed into the taxi, rolling down the window to catch Dawn's and Andrew’s last, frantic goodbyes.
TBC
