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Hallo!
I know most of you are off doing egg day things - i, myself, will be doing egg day things soon. Of course, the day *started* at around five-thirty a.m. when i staggered from bed to bathroom to bed and then a minute later was up and staggering again as i realized i'd fallen asleep and forgotten *all* about the basket for the Monstrous.
So i sat on the floor in the bathroom - not as gross as that could be - and made up her basket with these uber-cute little clear 'eggs' that have ears and a bunny face on them. Three of those, chocolate rabbit, a pen that lights up and has fluff on top and a 'catch the rabbit' game that's a stuffed rabbit and two paddles with velcro. Heh.
Monstrous was feeling ill last night and so lay down on the couch around nine - and fell asleep for the *entire* night. So no dying of eggs. We'll do that tonight. In an hour or so we're going to my sis-in-laws to do some sort of egg day thing...a hunt, or lunch, or something. Who knows? My sis-in-law's life is chaotic, but usually not too bad. If only she and mum-in-law would stop smoking in the fucking house. Gag me. *Her house, not mine. Attempt to light a cigarette in *my* house - i dare ya.*
ANYway...here is the fic! Yis, the final chapter plus an epilogue, which i hope all fits here. Another fun ride with my boys - amazing where these fics take me, as i usually have only the vaguest idea of plot and ending scenes when i start writing. Thank you, everyone, for the lovely fb and encouragement!
And thank you,![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
reremouse for the chit-chat and fixes and discussions that always spur me on. And of course 'thank you!' to darkhavens for the brit-beta. As always, ladies, i luffs ya!
Previous parts are here.
The next few days were - surreal. Xander seemed in a daze, most of the time. Lost his train of thought halfway through conversations and flinched from voices - from noises. His dreams escalated from bad to horrible to fucking unbelievable and Spike watched his shoulders bow and his gaze turn inward - his pale face go paler in contrast to the dark circle under his eye. Spike tried to talk to him but Xander didn't seem able to say - anything. He'd start and stop and chew his lip - get up and pace in frustration and finally just go silent. The words dammed up behind his teeth and too much emotion flickering in his gaze.
Spike just wanted to take him away somewhere - somewhere without nosey Watchers or staring, whispering Slayers or agitated phone calls from 'best friends' who couldn't seem to shut up. Xander talked in a hollow voice and sat silent and hunched afterward and Spike went out and vented his frustration in various vicious, bloody ways until the rising sun drove him inside again. Xander never said anything when he found the torn, bloody shirts in the trash, or had to take Spike's sponged-off coat down from the curtain rod before he could shower. It made Spike want to get right up in his face and yell at him. Or, alternatively, fuck him boneless and breathless and not let him out of bed for days. But Spike didn't do either.
Xander still slept on the couch but the nightmares came thick and fast and Spike gave up all pretense of sleep - sat up all night, watching him. Trying to stop the dreams, or sooth them away. Trying with everything he had in him to keep his instincts at bay, because his instincts were getting damned impatient. He wanted Xander fixed - fuck him, turn him - take him away. The only solutions that rang true in the discordant clamor of frustration and unhappiness and need. Anyone else that damaged would have been dismissed as food and dispatched the first night. Spike grimly ignored the demon inside himself - ignored every whisper and scream and shout by drinking them into silence. But...
It was so bloody hard.
Seven days of hunched silences and screaming nights and that bleak, wounded stare and Spike was ready to bolt. Xander scurried off to the Council building every morning, looking like death warmed over and Spike would pace and smoke and drink and curse - slip out on the gray days and find a scrap or two to occupy his mind. Everything seemed tinged with a blood-red haze now, and he was on a hair-trigger.
Seventh day and Xander came in an hour after sunset, shutting the door silently and slipping off his jacket. Spike glanced up at him, surly and half drunk and steeling himself for another night of the gibbering horrors. But Xander sat down next to him on the couch, hands between his knees, fingers laced and locked together and his knuckles white.
"I gotta...talk to you."
"'Bout fuckin' time," Spike snarled, and Xander flinched. "Christ, Xander -"
"Shut up, okay? Let me just - say - what I need to say."
"Fine," Spike said, looking away. Smoking furiously and ignoring the sick certainty that was knotting in his stomach like demented snakes.
"I've been talking to a doctor, kind of. Therapist. Down at the Council and...talking to Giles..." Xander fell silent and Spike tamped out his cigarette and took a long drink from the bottle he held, watching Xander's fingers twist and clench.
"Yeah? What's that got to do with you and me?"
"With -? Spike...fuck..." Xander reached up and pushed the patch off his face - rubbed at the socket for a moment and then looked up at Spike, turning the patch in his fingers. "You know, you're the only person I've ever been comfortable around without this on."
"I've seen worse - why should I care?" Spike mumbled and Xander gave a choked little laugh.
"Yeah. It's cause you don't see it, Spike. You just don't even...fucking notice. Everybody else notices."
*I notice. I notice but it doesn't matter. Doesn't change...anything. It's just you...*
"I'm not scared of you," Xander said, and Spike looked at him, shocked.
"Of course you're not - why should you be? Xander -"
"I know about those tattoos, Spike. I know what they mean. I know what they did." Xander's voice was calm - his gaze steady and his hands finally fallen still. Only his heart beat, fast and furious in his chest and Spike fought back the growl that threatened and reached for his whisky.
"Just what is it you think you know?"
"Spike -" Xander sighed softly and shook his head - reached out and with one finger touched the center of Spike's chest. Touched the tattoo under the black cotton, a flare of warmth against Spike's skin. "They weren't to protect you from the glamour or anything else. They were to protect you from the re-souling spell." Xander looked up from where his fingertip was rubbing gently over Spike's sternum. "You let William go."
Spike stared down at Xander's hand - at the chewed back nail and scarred knuckles. At the cuff of Xander's jumper, which was raveling a little. He took in a shaky breath - opened his mouth to say something. But there was nothing to say.
"I understand it, what you did. What you said about William..." Xander's hand fell slowly away, brushing Spike's knee and Spike's own hand darted out and seized his wrist - held it in a grip that probably hurt, but Xander didn't flinch. "I remember the things you did in Sunnydale. You were always - different. It made me mad. I wanted to find things to hate you for but you kept doing all this stuff... And Dawn, and Buffy..." Xander sighed softly and pushed his free hand back through his hair, making it stand up on end. Making him look like a somber hedgehog and Spike wanted to laugh.
"So - what are you going to do about it?" he said softly, and Xander looked surprised.
"Well, nothing. I mean - what's there to do? It's a done deal. And if William's - where you think he is...it'd be a dirty trick to yank him out of there again. I couldn't - justify it."
"Not your place, to decide," Spike muttered, and Xander's wrist flexed in his grip.
"I know. It never was. There's so many...things..." Xander stopped and shook his head again. "Listen, I wanted you to know because I'm leaving in the morning."
"You're leaving." Spike felt the words like blows, falling with the sick ache of already-bruised flesh being struck again and again.
"Yeah, I'm - I'm going up north. There's a place... I can't live like this, Spike." Xander's voice cracked and he stopped and swallowed - took a breath and went on. "All these memories...they're so fucking strong, they push at me all the time. Confuse me..."
"It'll get better, Xander, promise." Spike let his grip on Xander's wrist loosen - let Xander's hand twist and take his, palm to palm. "It's like - when I first got the soul, went a little crazy, didn't I? But it - sorted itself soon enough."
"Yeah, after you'd killed a bunch of people. I can't take the chance, Spike!" Xander's hand gripped fiercely and Spike squeezed back, watching the dark eye close for a moment and then open again, sparkling with tears that Xander blinked back. "Sometimes I don't even know - what's me. I don't know and I can't stand it. They said maybe...they could erase some of them. Or...I dunno. I have to do something. I have to get out of here - away from...all this."
"Yeah. Guess you do." Spike lifted the bottle and drained the last inch - set it down with a little click on the coffee table. He gently disengaged their hands and stood up. "Guess I'll be moving on, then."
"What? Where? Spike -" Xander stood up as well, mouth and eye wide in shock and Spike swung his coat on - patted his pockets and took a final look around. A long look at Xander. "What about -"
"The Council?" Spike interrupted, knowing it wasn't what Xander was asking about. Desperate not to let anything be said - for things to be made final. *As long as he never says...if I don't, then...maybe...* "Oh, the Council's seen the last of me, mate. Told Andrew I quit this morning. Sick of doing their sodding dirty work, aren't I? Let 'em find somebody else for the job. Got my own life to live."
"Yeah. Guess you do." Xander's arms were around his ribs - too-familiar gesture anymore and for a moment Spike wished Xander could find comfort in that pad and Mickey Mouse pen again - wished those things could be the anchor they had once been. Solidity in a shifting, bewildering world.
"You go get your head straight and then..."
"Then -" Xander looked as if he was on the verge of some violent emotion, shaking as his fingers dug into his sides. "Then what, Spike?"
"Then we'll see I guess." Spike strode toward the door - stopped and turned and walked back to Xander and reached out and cupped his face. Held it, fingers just brushing the empty socket - the point of his jaw. "Don't let 'em tell you what to do, Xander. Don't be afraid. You're a hero, remember? Nothing changes that."
Xander nodded, silent and Spike turned and walked out. Out of the city - out of the country. As far and as fast as he could. And even though his soul was gone, his heart still felt as if it had been shattered, just the same.
Monbaz Street was alive with music - with people. Swirling groups of boys and girls, giggling and dancing and drinking soda. Pretending to be tougher, sexier - hipper than they really were. About half were tourists, alternately trying to blend in or sticking out like loud, sore thumbs and Spike growled softly as an overly made up woman teetered into him and his chair, her heel catching in a crack. He shot her a venomous glare and went back to sipping moodily out of his flask. Nobody sold alcohol around here and he didn't know why the fuck he'd come.
Didn't know why he was in Jerusalem, of all places. Holy of holies and rife with bloodshed - sacred and profane cheek by jowl and the very dust under his feet so steeped in holy water and sin it almost hurt to walk on it. Almost hurt to breathe.
But then, he only had to breathe when he chose and if hurting and breathing were the same then - he could stop. Except then it hurt to not breathe - hurt to think and Spike snarled to himself and lit another cigarette. Everything hurt now. Remembering the past - thinking about the handful of people he'd loved. All of them gone, and here he was sitting and brooding and hurting and would it ever fucking end? Four months of selective mayhem, violent sex and a sodding river of blood and he was still...
*Still want him, for fuck's sake. Like I wanted Dru so bad I made an utter fool of myself. Angelus...fuck - don't need to revisit that shite. And did it again for Buffy. Not making a fool, this time. Just being a fool but at least no one's here to tell me so.*
No one and nothing and Spike lit another cigarette and watched the smoke swirl up, stained red and blue and green by the neon and the colored lights. Watched it go up and sideways as a hand fanned it away from a tanned, familiar face and Spike felt the smile - felt it stretch his lips and bare his teeth and lift his mangled heart. For just a moment. One precious moment and then he wiped it away - looked away. Felt himself hunching and stopped it and then didn't know what to do.
Ended up doing nothing as Xander pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He was past being thin, now - was back in fighting trim, it seemed. Broad and muscled under the jacket Spike had bought him in Saigon. Hair grown out long enough to flop in his eye a little and...no patch.
Spike smoked and watched Xander take a drink of Coke - watched Xander's throat swallow and his tongue lick his lips and cursed himself for watching but really couldn't stop himself from watching and what the fuck was wrong with him?
"Come here often?" Xander said and Spike snorted cigarette smoke and looked Xander straight in the eye. Didn't see anything but amusement and...
*Don't see anything. Stop it, now.* "Just passing through," Spike said finally, and Xander took another sip of Coke.
"Yeah - you've been passing through a lot of places lately."
"What, you've been keeping tabs?" Spike snapped, and Xander looked down at his bottle, tipping it this way and that. Watching the neon reflect along the sides.
"The Council tracks - everybody. Now. Willow figured out some remote viewing kind of spell -"
Spike stood abruptly, snarling, and Xander blinked up at him, looking dismayed. "Bloody witch is spying on me? I'm not their bloody go-to boy anymore, they need to -"
"Spike - stop." Xander's voice was quiet - almost a whisper and Spike stopped cold and looked at him, waiting. "She can only do it if she has something of yours. And I - took it. Okay? She's not spying on you."
"Not anymore, you mean," Spike muttered, but he sat back down, finishing off his cigarette and taking a long drink from his flask. He held it up and Xander shook his head. "So, what'd I leave behind?" Spike asked. He couldn't think of anything at the moment.
Xander looked a little shifty - stretched his leg out and dug his hand into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a chain, heavy and silver and Spike stared at it blankly for a moment before remembering... *Took that off to get the tattoos, gave it to him to hold...*
"You kept it."
"I kinda...forgot about it?" Xander didn't exactly look at him when he said that and Spike could see the faint lines at his throat where a thickish piece of jewelry might have blocked a little sun.
"Liar," Spike said. He stood up again, sweeping smokes and flask and lighter into his pockets - snagged the necklace from Xander and stepped around behind him before he could react. Undid the clasp and looped the chain around Xander's neck. "You've been wearing it for weeks, I can tell."
"Yeah, so...what?" Xander said, his fingers coming up in what looked like a habitual gesture, settling the chain and stroking over it.
Spike leaned down, mouth close to Xander's ear. "Wearing it and thinking about me." Spike knew he sounded smug - didn't actually care. Xander sat there for another moment, Spike's fingers on his shoulders. Waiting - breathing. Or not, maybe. Spike wasn't. "C'mon, I've got a room at the Colony - got a private terrace to the garden." Still smug, because the Colony was the best hotel around, and the terrace rooms were always booked.
"Of course you do," Xander muttered, but he got up and walked with Spike - out of the Russian Compound area and into East Jerusalem, the scent of night-blooming jasmine wafting in from somewhere. Probably forced blooms from a hothouse, so early in the year. They bumped shoulders and wrists as they walked - got caught looking sideways at each other too many times until Xander started laughing and then Spike did. He ducked into the shadow of an overhanging balcony and snatched Xander in with him, pinning him to the wall with a knee and hip - hands on either side of Xander's head, palms flat to the cool, crumbling brick.
"Why are you here, Xander? Why'd you come looking for me?"
Xander's eyes caught the light, faint shimmer of red in the shadows. "I - wanted... Well, I wanted to talk to you. About - stuff. Demons and...stuff."
"Stuff? Really. You wanted to talk to me about...stuff."
"Well...yeah," Xander said, and his hand came up to the necklace and his fingertip stroked over the thick coil of metal - the close set links that more than anything resembled a silver snake. His other hand somewhere on Spike's coat, slipping a little on the leather. "Stuff and...other stuff. Private kind of stuff I don't really wanna talk about under somebody's bedroom or whatever," he said, glancing upward. A radio was playing somewhere above them; doleful classical music, all lute and drums. Someone's living room, maybe - bedroom.
"Private stuff." Spike grinned, knowing Xander probably couldn't see much more than a silhouette. "All right, come on." He pushed away from the wall and walked on and Xander fell into step beside him again.
At the hotel, they walked in companionable silence to the east house - the ground-floor suites that had once housed a Pasha's wives. Spike unlocked the door and flicked on a light or two - tossed his coat over a plump foot stool and went to the bar for a drink. "Want anything?"
"Nah - think I wanna stay sharp for this."
"Is it gonna be that bad?" Spike asked, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. Not quite daring to meet Xander's eye and Xander sighed and took off his own jacket - perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair, his palms cupping his knees.
"I don't - think so. Wanna give it a try?"
Spike tossed the whisky back in a single gulp - came over to the chair that sat opposite Xander's and sprawled down into it, affecting nonchalance. "Why not? Try most anything, me."
"Yeah. Uh... Xander's fingers strayed upward again - rolled the necklace back and forth for a moment. It seemed to give him courage. His heartbeat - pounding hard for most of the walk - settled a little toward normal. "That demon...when he died, I got my memories back and I got - well, I got all of his, too."
Spike frowned - sat forward in his chair a little. "His. You did? Its - his from - when he took yours?"
Xander shook his head, his gaze going distant for a moment. "No. His from - from his first memory. I got - his whole life. He was pretty old. I mean, for a human. Older than you."
"Bloody hell, Xander -" Spike wanted to reach out - take Xander's hand. Touch him. But the chairs were too far apart and it was... *Too much, too soon. Just listen.*
"Yeah. It was...pretty crazy. The place he was from was - a lot different. Darker and more -" Xander made a gesture with his hands, helpless looking. Shook his head again. "It's hard to describe. Do you - does the demon in you remember...where it was before?"
"Before?"
"Before it - you...fuck. Before William got turned? I mean, you weren't just - floating around in limbo or anything, right?"
"No. There was a place..." Spike looked away for a moment. Remembering a place of green light - a seemingly endless sea of towering green and a true sea of cold, depthless water that foamed with life. Remembered the bone-deep tug and screaming pain of becoming. Remembered - waking. "It's... out of reach, now."
"Yeah." Xander rubbed his hands up his arms, looking cold. "He wanted out, from where he was. It wasn't a prison but it wasn't - home. He'd made a mistake. He...liked it here. I remember how much he liked the air - the colors."
Spike liked it here, too - the other place a dim memory that didn't compare, mostly. But - this wasn't a fucking fairy tale. "Did he like gutting those girls?" Spike said, watching the odd, rapt expression snap off Xander's face, replaced with misery.
"Yeah, he did. Not because he wanted - it wasn't like torture, to him. It was survival." Xander looked straight at Spike, his shoulders going back and his chin coming up. "Like when you killed that guy in London, that first night. Survival."
"I don't have to vivisect my prey," Spike snapped, and Xander shivered.
"No, you don't. But you've done worse. But - Spike..." Xander pushed himself to his feet and paced over to the French doors - stood looking out at the garden, silver and charcoal in the glow of a gibbous moon - squares of honey-gold from the lights of other, occupied rooms. "The thing is - I remember him. I remember how fucking happy he was when he saw me at my place. I remember how much it hurt when that ward burned him and - I remember riding the lightning over London. He could hear me. He could hear my soul and it was... It was so...beautiful."
"So, you're the demon apologist now? Telling me how my own kind's got its own special take on the world - how we're all precious, pretty snowflakes or some such bollocks?" Spike stood up too - stomped over to the bar for another, stiffer drink. Xander just stood there, looking out, and Spike stood a few steps behind him, watching. Listening to him breathe and listening to his heart - to the faint susurrus of metal against metal when Xander touched the necklace again.
"No, I'm not...whatever that is. I'm trying to tell you that... I guess I'm trying to say I don't see things...the same anymore. I still - have those bad dreams..." Xander's voice cracked a little and he paused for a moment then went on, voice hardening into something closer to a growl. "Doesn't matter how much he liked fucking orange soda, he still tore those girls apart and didn't...fucking care. But he...cared about other things. Cared like - anybody would. Like any human would." Xander's fists clenched and relaxed, his shoulders tight. "And it's all in me, now." Xander turned around with a sigh - stood there staring at Spike. Staring long enough to make Spike fidget.
"So you had this epiphany and thought I should know?"
"Yeah. Kinda. Thought I should tell you I didn't let them - talk me into anything. I didn't let them erase anything. I remember other stuff too, Spike."
"Back to the stuff, now," Spike said, still feeling like he wanted to fidget. Feeling nervous, somehow and not quite as smug and Xander smiled a slow smile. Took a few steps forward until he was right there, up close and personal and completely ignoring anybody's 'space'. He was warm, and smelled thickly of salt and honey and something...savory. Something good that Spike wanted to taste.
"Yeah. Stuff. Like...movies and take away and steak and kidney pie. Stuff like that." Xander's smile faltered a tiny bit and his fingers twitched and Spike knew he wanted to touch the necklace. "Like you crawling under the bed with me."
"Don't do that for just anyone, you know. You were a special case."
"Special, all right," Xander said, and swayed forward just a little.
Spike closed his eyes - took in the scent and the heat and the pressure of him. Xander's blood rushing through his heart - his lungs pushing and pulling air and his knee creaking as he shifted, just a little. "More special than you know, love...so bloody much more -"
Faint laugh from Xander. "If you ever walk away from me again I'll give this necklace to Willow and let her teleport you to a warded circle in the middle of Council Headquarters."
Spike's eyes snapped open and Xander was this this this close, face solemn and sober but his gaze - laughing. "I ever walk away again, love, I'll deserve it."
"Yeah, you will." Xander leaned in that last inch - pressed his lips to Spike's and kissed him. After a moment or two of sheer intoxication Spike's arms came up and pulled Xander close. His hands fitted into the hollow at the small of Xander's back and pushed up through his hair and Xander sighed into the kiss and wound his own arms around Spike. Found that hold that pressed them together just right - embraced Spike just right and Spike almost laughed and Xander pulled back, smiling.
"What?"
"This stuff. You remember this stuff, too."
"Oh, yeah. Pretty damn hard to forget...kiss...this...kiss...stuff."
"Bloody well hope so," Spike huffed, and then tumbled them both to the couch for as much stuff...as they could stand.
One year later, somewhere in Middle America...
"Xander! Fuck's sake, can we go?" Spike appeared like a jack-in-the-box at Xander's elbow and Xander almost toppled his hot chocolate - with extra whipped cream, nutmeg and cinnamon - over his laptop.
"Spike! Jesus - Christ!" Xander gripped the edges of the table and tried to slow his heart down from running-from-trolls speed while Spike jittered next to him, oblivious to the glares coming at him from the clusters of students huddled over their own laptops, notes, and mocha frappe latte-chino whatevers. "Do you want me to die of a heart attack? Just - keel over in the middle of nowhere in a pool of overpriced coffee?"
"Got a heart like a steeplechaser, love, you won't die from that." Spike's fingers - which were like pointy icicles - gripped Xander's chin and tilted his head up. Xander sat there and let himself be kissed breathless by cold, cold lips and tongue and teeth.
"Right, okay. Uh. What's a steeplechaser?" Spike grinned. "Never mind. Why are you in here yelling at me?"
"It's almost six. We need to get on the road, love." Spike was tapping his fingers and twitching at his coat and in general acting like a six year old on a sugar high and that could only mean one thing.
He'd just cheated the entire demon population of Bumfuck, Wherever out of every kitten they had.
"I’m not gonna get in the car and find it packed to the gills with kittens, am I?" Xander asked, clicking the 'spell check' button and watching various words light up in red on his screen. Getting better - only eight, this time.
"What?" Spike looked guilty for all of three seconds and then he pulled out his cigarettes to cover - lit up with a flourish and leaned on the back of the chair, his hand stroking absently through Xander's hair. "This town's dead, mate - not got a kitten here I'd heave into a pit of -"
"This is a no smoking facility, sir," a voice piped up, and Xander and Spike both swiveled to stare at the gangly student standing behind them.
"Yeah?" Spike said. He took a deep lungful of smoke. Xander hastily hit 'save' and closed his laptop - shoved it into its bag while wrestling with his jacket. It was caught on something on the back of the chair.
Spike blew the lungful into the boy's face. "Piss. Off."
The student coughed, waving a crumpled napkin in front of his face. "I c-can have you banned! All I have to do -"
"Listen, you git -"
"Whoa, look at the time! Gotta go!" Xander yanked his jacket so hard the chair came with it, then toppled over and crashed to the floor. Spike and the student both stared at him.
"Bloody hell, Xander, what've you got against that chair?"
"We need to go. Remember? Lots of driving to do. Hold this." Xander shoved his laptop bag into Spike's arms, confident Spike would catch it. He yanked his jacket on and grabbed his hot chocolate and then Spike's arm and towed him through the tables and out the door. Spike stumbled backwards through the tables, clutching the laptop and blowing as much smoke over the crowd as he could.
"Man, one of these days -"
"One of these days what? Not one bugger in there with the stones to do more than whinge at me."
Xander stopped by their car, shivering. It was snowing like crazy, thick white flakes spinning down and down, already a couple of inches thick over the parked cars. They prickled with cold as they fell on Xander's skin, like a soft mist. It was pretty in the white light of the parking lot lamps. The snow shone like sugar-dust and softened the edges of everything and Xander took a long breath, liking how the cold air made the inside of his nose crinkle.
"You worry too much, love." Spike smirked at him and Xander snatched his laptop back.
"You're driving. I didn't have time to finish my letter."
"With pleasure," Spike said. He pushed Xander into the side of the car, pinning him and groping leisurely at pockets and not pockets, cigarette held out and away and his mouth finding every hot spot between Xander's chin and his collarbone.
"What are you...oh, yeah...doing?"
"Looking for the keys, love," Spike murmured, pushing an icy nose into Xander's collar.
"God! Jesus, okay - jacket pocket. No more groping until you're at least seventy degrees." Spike jangled the keys and straightened up, grinning at him and Xander grinned back - wiped snow out of his eye and walked around to the passenger side.
An hour later he'd finished his letter to Willow and one to Dawn, deleted a ton of spam and shared the 'In-Crease UR P*E*N*I*S SIZE!!!' advertisement with Spike. He folded his laptop away and reclined the seat a little. They were somewhere in Kansas, heading west - California by Friday and Christmas with Angel and Buffy and the little bald monkey they called Natalie. Seven months old for her first Christmas. To make up for it, Xander had promised Spike an entire week in Vegas for the New Year.
They had a suite at the Las Vegas Hilton. The Star Trek Experience was going to be taking all of Xander's folding cash, that much he knew already. If Spike would let him out of the room. Xander tilted his head, peering speculatively at Spike in the cobalt glow of the dash lights and occasional oncoming head light. Spike was tapping on the wheel, singing softly along with ... Xander concentrated. Tom Petty.
"What is it, love? Want to stop?"
"Oh, no. Just thinking about our Las Vegas trip."
"Yeah?" Spike grinned over at him, flash of pointy teeth and golden eyes. "New Year you're never gonna forget."
"You think?"
"Oh, I know. Trust me, pet."
"I think I do," Xander said quietly, and Spike's smile was softer this time. His hand brushed over Xander's thigh and then squeezed gently, and Xander put his own hand on top of Spike's and they rode along in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Spike cursed and jerked his hand back to the wheel, bullying the car through a slick spot. Xander just closed his eye and gripped the door handle. He never even looked at the speedometer anymore - it wasn't worth the panic attacks. The car lurched back into true and there was a rustling in the back seat and then a small, pitiful noise.
A sort of 'meew' noise.
Xander's eye popped open. "Spike?"
"Mmm?" Spike said, fumbling along the seat for his cigarettes.
*The fake nonchalance of the caught-red-handed vampire!* "I just heard a - cat."
"No you didn't."
"Yes, yes I did."
"Meew!"
"There! I heard it again!"
"Not a cat, love."
Xander turned to stare incredulously at Spike. Spike glared at the road. "It was a cat, Spike. I know what cats sound like."
"No, it -"
"Meew! Meew!"
"In chorus! There's two cats in here, Spike!" Xander clawed at his seat-belt, thought better of it and twisted awkwardly, trying to see over the seats.
"No, there are not two cats in here -" Spike said, a little desperately, and Xander snapped on the interior light. It illuminated a cat carrier, lined with a plush and festive red and green throw. Two little faces - pale coronas around dark masks - stared up at him. Very blue, very crossed eyes blinked at him and two little mouths opened, exposing miniature white fangs and pink tongues.
"Ah ha!"
"See, not cats," Spike said, and lit up. He cracked his window and the sudden roar of cold air made the kittens hunker down, ears going back. "They're kittens."
"Spike!" Xander closed his eye and took a deep breath. Counted to ten. Lifted his hand up to the silver necklace he still wore and ran his fingertip over it. Opened his eye. "You're scaring the kittens with that noise and making them cold."
"Huh? Oh -" Spike took a huge lungful of smoke and then blew it out - shoved the butt out the window and powered the window back up.
"Why are there kittens in the car?"
"Buffy asked -"
"Oh, Jesus. Does Angel know?"
Spike looked shifty. "Angel thinks cats climb into cribs and steal a baby's breath."
"Angel doesn't know."
"I'm not daft. I made Buffy write me a note."
"A...note?" Xander boggled at Spike a little and Spike reached into his coat - pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it across.
Xander unfolded it. "I, Buffy Summers Griffin, do solemnly swear and promise that kittens were my idea." It was signed with a flourish underneath and Xander silently folded it back up and handed it to Spike, who tucked it away. "Well. Okay, then."
They drove another mile or so, Refugee thumping along in the background.
"That's half the reason you agreed to this whole trip, isn't it. To send Angel into a tailspin over kittens crawling all over his precious Natalie."
"Too bloody right, love. They might even climb the tree."
"That would be something." Xander sat for another mile then mentally shrugged. He undid his seat-belt, turned off the interior light and scooted over next to Spike, snuggling close and putting his hand on Spike's thigh, high and in.
"I love you, you know. Evil, conniving creature that you are."
"Never doubted it for a minute, love."
I know most of you are off doing egg day things - i, myself, will be doing egg day things soon. Of course, the day *started* at around five-thirty a.m. when i staggered from bed to bathroom to bed and then a minute later was up and staggering again as i realized i'd fallen asleep and forgotten *all* about the basket for the Monstrous.
So i sat on the floor in the bathroom - not as gross as that could be - and made up her basket with these uber-cute little clear 'eggs' that have ears and a bunny face on them. Three of those, chocolate rabbit, a pen that lights up and has fluff on top and a 'catch the rabbit' game that's a stuffed rabbit and two paddles with velcro. Heh.
Monstrous was feeling ill last night and so lay down on the couch around nine - and fell asleep for the *entire* night. So no dying of eggs. We'll do that tonight. In an hour or so we're going to my sis-in-laws to do some sort of egg day thing...a hunt, or lunch, or something. Who knows? My sis-in-law's life is chaotic, but usually not too bad. If only she and mum-in-law would stop smoking in the fucking house. Gag me. *Her house, not mine. Attempt to light a cigarette in *my* house - i dare ya.*
ANYway...here is the fic! Yis, the final chapter plus an epilogue, which i hope all fits here. Another fun ride with my boys - amazing where these fics take me, as i usually have only the vaguest idea of plot and ending scenes when i start writing. Thank you, everyone, for the lovely fb and encouragement!
And thank you,
reremouse for the chit-chat and fixes and discussions that always spur me on. And of course 'thank you!' to darkhavens for the brit-beta. As always, ladies, i luffs ya!Previous parts are here.
The next few days were - surreal. Xander seemed in a daze, most of the time. Lost his train of thought halfway through conversations and flinched from voices - from noises. His dreams escalated from bad to horrible to fucking unbelievable and Spike watched his shoulders bow and his gaze turn inward - his pale face go paler in contrast to the dark circle under his eye. Spike tried to talk to him but Xander didn't seem able to say - anything. He'd start and stop and chew his lip - get up and pace in frustration and finally just go silent. The words dammed up behind his teeth and too much emotion flickering in his gaze.
Spike just wanted to take him away somewhere - somewhere without nosey Watchers or staring, whispering Slayers or agitated phone calls from 'best friends' who couldn't seem to shut up. Xander talked in a hollow voice and sat silent and hunched afterward and Spike went out and vented his frustration in various vicious, bloody ways until the rising sun drove him inside again. Xander never said anything when he found the torn, bloody shirts in the trash, or had to take Spike's sponged-off coat down from the curtain rod before he could shower. It made Spike want to get right up in his face and yell at him. Or, alternatively, fuck him boneless and breathless and not let him out of bed for days. But Spike didn't do either.
Xander still slept on the couch but the nightmares came thick and fast and Spike gave up all pretense of sleep - sat up all night, watching him. Trying to stop the dreams, or sooth them away. Trying with everything he had in him to keep his instincts at bay, because his instincts were getting damned impatient. He wanted Xander fixed - fuck him, turn him - take him away. The only solutions that rang true in the discordant clamor of frustration and unhappiness and need. Anyone else that damaged would have been dismissed as food and dispatched the first night. Spike grimly ignored the demon inside himself - ignored every whisper and scream and shout by drinking them into silence. But...
It was so bloody hard.
Seven days of hunched silences and screaming nights and that bleak, wounded stare and Spike was ready to bolt. Xander scurried off to the Council building every morning, looking like death warmed over and Spike would pace and smoke and drink and curse - slip out on the gray days and find a scrap or two to occupy his mind. Everything seemed tinged with a blood-red haze now, and he was on a hair-trigger.
Seventh day and Xander came in an hour after sunset, shutting the door silently and slipping off his jacket. Spike glanced up at him, surly and half drunk and steeling himself for another night of the gibbering horrors. But Xander sat down next to him on the couch, hands between his knees, fingers laced and locked together and his knuckles white.
"I gotta...talk to you."
"'Bout fuckin' time," Spike snarled, and Xander flinched. "Christ, Xander -"
"Shut up, okay? Let me just - say - what I need to say."
"Fine," Spike said, looking away. Smoking furiously and ignoring the sick certainty that was knotting in his stomach like demented snakes.
"I've been talking to a doctor, kind of. Therapist. Down at the Council and...talking to Giles..." Xander fell silent and Spike tamped out his cigarette and took a long drink from the bottle he held, watching Xander's fingers twist and clench.
"Yeah? What's that got to do with you and me?"
"With -? Spike...fuck..." Xander reached up and pushed the patch off his face - rubbed at the socket for a moment and then looked up at Spike, turning the patch in his fingers. "You know, you're the only person I've ever been comfortable around without this on."
"I've seen worse - why should I care?" Spike mumbled and Xander gave a choked little laugh.
"Yeah. It's cause you don't see it, Spike. You just don't even...fucking notice. Everybody else notices."
*I notice. I notice but it doesn't matter. Doesn't change...anything. It's just you...*
"I'm not scared of you," Xander said, and Spike looked at him, shocked.
"Of course you're not - why should you be? Xander -"
"I know about those tattoos, Spike. I know what they mean. I know what they did." Xander's voice was calm - his gaze steady and his hands finally fallen still. Only his heart beat, fast and furious in his chest and Spike fought back the growl that threatened and reached for his whisky.
"Just what is it you think you know?"
"Spike -" Xander sighed softly and shook his head - reached out and with one finger touched the center of Spike's chest. Touched the tattoo under the black cotton, a flare of warmth against Spike's skin. "They weren't to protect you from the glamour or anything else. They were to protect you from the re-souling spell." Xander looked up from where his fingertip was rubbing gently over Spike's sternum. "You let William go."
Spike stared down at Xander's hand - at the chewed back nail and scarred knuckles. At the cuff of Xander's jumper, which was raveling a little. He took in a shaky breath - opened his mouth to say something. But there was nothing to say.
"I understand it, what you did. What you said about William..." Xander's hand fell slowly away, brushing Spike's knee and Spike's own hand darted out and seized his wrist - held it in a grip that probably hurt, but Xander didn't flinch. "I remember the things you did in Sunnydale. You were always - different. It made me mad. I wanted to find things to hate you for but you kept doing all this stuff... And Dawn, and Buffy..." Xander sighed softly and pushed his free hand back through his hair, making it stand up on end. Making him look like a somber hedgehog and Spike wanted to laugh.
"So - what are you going to do about it?" he said softly, and Xander looked surprised.
"Well, nothing. I mean - what's there to do? It's a done deal. And if William's - where you think he is...it'd be a dirty trick to yank him out of there again. I couldn't - justify it."
"Not your place, to decide," Spike muttered, and Xander's wrist flexed in his grip.
"I know. It never was. There's so many...things..." Xander stopped and shook his head again. "Listen, I wanted you to know because I'm leaving in the morning."
"You're leaving." Spike felt the words like blows, falling with the sick ache of already-bruised flesh being struck again and again.
"Yeah, I'm - I'm going up north. There's a place... I can't live like this, Spike." Xander's voice cracked and he stopped and swallowed - took a breath and went on. "All these memories...they're so fucking strong, they push at me all the time. Confuse me..."
"It'll get better, Xander, promise." Spike let his grip on Xander's wrist loosen - let Xander's hand twist and take his, palm to palm. "It's like - when I first got the soul, went a little crazy, didn't I? But it - sorted itself soon enough."
"Yeah, after you'd killed a bunch of people. I can't take the chance, Spike!" Xander's hand gripped fiercely and Spike squeezed back, watching the dark eye close for a moment and then open again, sparkling with tears that Xander blinked back. "Sometimes I don't even know - what's me. I don't know and I can't stand it. They said maybe...they could erase some of them. Or...I dunno. I have to do something. I have to get out of here - away from...all this."
"Yeah. Guess you do." Spike lifted the bottle and drained the last inch - set it down with a little click on the coffee table. He gently disengaged their hands and stood up. "Guess I'll be moving on, then."
"What? Where? Spike -" Xander stood up as well, mouth and eye wide in shock and Spike swung his coat on - patted his pockets and took a final look around. A long look at Xander. "What about -"
"The Council?" Spike interrupted, knowing it wasn't what Xander was asking about. Desperate not to let anything be said - for things to be made final. *As long as he never says...if I don't, then...maybe...* "Oh, the Council's seen the last of me, mate. Told Andrew I quit this morning. Sick of doing their sodding dirty work, aren't I? Let 'em find somebody else for the job. Got my own life to live."
"Yeah. Guess you do." Xander's arms were around his ribs - too-familiar gesture anymore and for a moment Spike wished Xander could find comfort in that pad and Mickey Mouse pen again - wished those things could be the anchor they had once been. Solidity in a shifting, bewildering world.
"You go get your head straight and then..."
"Then -" Xander looked as if he was on the verge of some violent emotion, shaking as his fingers dug into his sides. "Then what, Spike?"
"Then we'll see I guess." Spike strode toward the door - stopped and turned and walked back to Xander and reached out and cupped his face. Held it, fingers just brushing the empty socket - the point of his jaw. "Don't let 'em tell you what to do, Xander. Don't be afraid. You're a hero, remember? Nothing changes that."
Xander nodded, silent and Spike turned and walked out. Out of the city - out of the country. As far and as fast as he could. And even though his soul was gone, his heart still felt as if it had been shattered, just the same.
Monbaz Street was alive with music - with people. Swirling groups of boys and girls, giggling and dancing and drinking soda. Pretending to be tougher, sexier - hipper than they really were. About half were tourists, alternately trying to blend in or sticking out like loud, sore thumbs and Spike growled softly as an overly made up woman teetered into him and his chair, her heel catching in a crack. He shot her a venomous glare and went back to sipping moodily out of his flask. Nobody sold alcohol around here and he didn't know why the fuck he'd come.
Didn't know why he was in Jerusalem, of all places. Holy of holies and rife with bloodshed - sacred and profane cheek by jowl and the very dust under his feet so steeped in holy water and sin it almost hurt to walk on it. Almost hurt to breathe.
But then, he only had to breathe when he chose and if hurting and breathing were the same then - he could stop. Except then it hurt to not breathe - hurt to think and Spike snarled to himself and lit another cigarette. Everything hurt now. Remembering the past - thinking about the handful of people he'd loved. All of them gone, and here he was sitting and brooding and hurting and would it ever fucking end? Four months of selective mayhem, violent sex and a sodding river of blood and he was still...
*Still want him, for fuck's sake. Like I wanted Dru so bad I made an utter fool of myself. Angelus...fuck - don't need to revisit that shite. And did it again for Buffy. Not making a fool, this time. Just being a fool but at least no one's here to tell me so.*
No one and nothing and Spike lit another cigarette and watched the smoke swirl up, stained red and blue and green by the neon and the colored lights. Watched it go up and sideways as a hand fanned it away from a tanned, familiar face and Spike felt the smile - felt it stretch his lips and bare his teeth and lift his mangled heart. For just a moment. One precious moment and then he wiped it away - looked away. Felt himself hunching and stopped it and then didn't know what to do.
Ended up doing nothing as Xander pulled a chair out from the table and sat down. He was past being thin, now - was back in fighting trim, it seemed. Broad and muscled under the jacket Spike had bought him in Saigon. Hair grown out long enough to flop in his eye a little and...no patch.
Spike smoked and watched Xander take a drink of Coke - watched Xander's throat swallow and his tongue lick his lips and cursed himself for watching but really couldn't stop himself from watching and what the fuck was wrong with him?
"Come here often?" Xander said and Spike snorted cigarette smoke and looked Xander straight in the eye. Didn't see anything but amusement and...
*Don't see anything. Stop it, now.* "Just passing through," Spike said finally, and Xander took another sip of Coke.
"Yeah - you've been passing through a lot of places lately."
"What, you've been keeping tabs?" Spike snapped, and Xander looked down at his bottle, tipping it this way and that. Watching the neon reflect along the sides.
"The Council tracks - everybody. Now. Willow figured out some remote viewing kind of spell -"
Spike stood abruptly, snarling, and Xander blinked up at him, looking dismayed. "Bloody witch is spying on me? I'm not their bloody go-to boy anymore, they need to -"
"Spike - stop." Xander's voice was quiet - almost a whisper and Spike stopped cold and looked at him, waiting. "She can only do it if she has something of yours. And I - took it. Okay? She's not spying on you."
"Not anymore, you mean," Spike muttered, but he sat back down, finishing off his cigarette and taking a long drink from his flask. He held it up and Xander shook his head. "So, what'd I leave behind?" Spike asked. He couldn't think of anything at the moment.
Xander looked a little shifty - stretched his leg out and dug his hand into his jeans pocket. He pulled out a chain, heavy and silver and Spike stared at it blankly for a moment before remembering... *Took that off to get the tattoos, gave it to him to hold...*
"You kept it."
"I kinda...forgot about it?" Xander didn't exactly look at him when he said that and Spike could see the faint lines at his throat where a thickish piece of jewelry might have blocked a little sun.
"Liar," Spike said. He stood up again, sweeping smokes and flask and lighter into his pockets - snagged the necklace from Xander and stepped around behind him before he could react. Undid the clasp and looped the chain around Xander's neck. "You've been wearing it for weeks, I can tell."
"Yeah, so...what?" Xander said, his fingers coming up in what looked like a habitual gesture, settling the chain and stroking over it.
Spike leaned down, mouth close to Xander's ear. "Wearing it and thinking about me." Spike knew he sounded smug - didn't actually care. Xander sat there for another moment, Spike's fingers on his shoulders. Waiting - breathing. Or not, maybe. Spike wasn't. "C'mon, I've got a room at the Colony - got a private terrace to the garden." Still smug, because the Colony was the best hotel around, and the terrace rooms were always booked.
"Of course you do," Xander muttered, but he got up and walked with Spike - out of the Russian Compound area and into East Jerusalem, the scent of night-blooming jasmine wafting in from somewhere. Probably forced blooms from a hothouse, so early in the year. They bumped shoulders and wrists as they walked - got caught looking sideways at each other too many times until Xander started laughing and then Spike did. He ducked into the shadow of an overhanging balcony and snatched Xander in with him, pinning him to the wall with a knee and hip - hands on either side of Xander's head, palms flat to the cool, crumbling brick.
"Why are you here, Xander? Why'd you come looking for me?"
Xander's eyes caught the light, faint shimmer of red in the shadows. "I - wanted... Well, I wanted to talk to you. About - stuff. Demons and...stuff."
"Stuff? Really. You wanted to talk to me about...stuff."
"Well...yeah," Xander said, and his hand came up to the necklace and his fingertip stroked over the thick coil of metal - the close set links that more than anything resembled a silver snake. His other hand somewhere on Spike's coat, slipping a little on the leather. "Stuff and...other stuff. Private kind of stuff I don't really wanna talk about under somebody's bedroom or whatever," he said, glancing upward. A radio was playing somewhere above them; doleful classical music, all lute and drums. Someone's living room, maybe - bedroom.
"Private stuff." Spike grinned, knowing Xander probably couldn't see much more than a silhouette. "All right, come on." He pushed away from the wall and walked on and Xander fell into step beside him again.
At the hotel, they walked in companionable silence to the east house - the ground-floor suites that had once housed a Pasha's wives. Spike unlocked the door and flicked on a light or two - tossed his coat over a plump foot stool and went to the bar for a drink. "Want anything?"
"Nah - think I wanna stay sharp for this."
"Is it gonna be that bad?" Spike asked, staring at the amber liquid in his glass. Not quite daring to meet Xander's eye and Xander sighed and took off his own jacket - perched on the edge of an overstuffed chair, his palms cupping his knees.
"I don't - think so. Wanna give it a try?"
Spike tossed the whisky back in a single gulp - came over to the chair that sat opposite Xander's and sprawled down into it, affecting nonchalance. "Why not? Try most anything, me."
"Yeah. Uh... Xander's fingers strayed upward again - rolled the necklace back and forth for a moment. It seemed to give him courage. His heartbeat - pounding hard for most of the walk - settled a little toward normal. "That demon...when he died, I got my memories back and I got - well, I got all of his, too."
Spike frowned - sat forward in his chair a little. "His. You did? Its - his from - when he took yours?"
Xander shook his head, his gaze going distant for a moment. "No. His from - from his first memory. I got - his whole life. He was pretty old. I mean, for a human. Older than you."
"Bloody hell, Xander -" Spike wanted to reach out - take Xander's hand. Touch him. But the chairs were too far apart and it was... *Too much, too soon. Just listen.*
"Yeah. It was...pretty crazy. The place he was from was - a lot different. Darker and more -" Xander made a gesture with his hands, helpless looking. Shook his head again. "It's hard to describe. Do you - does the demon in you remember...where it was before?"
"Before?"
"Before it - you...fuck. Before William got turned? I mean, you weren't just - floating around in limbo or anything, right?"
"No. There was a place..." Spike looked away for a moment. Remembering a place of green light - a seemingly endless sea of towering green and a true sea of cold, depthless water that foamed with life. Remembered the bone-deep tug and screaming pain of becoming. Remembered - waking. "It's... out of reach, now."
"Yeah." Xander rubbed his hands up his arms, looking cold. "He wanted out, from where he was. It wasn't a prison but it wasn't - home. He'd made a mistake. He...liked it here. I remember how much he liked the air - the colors."
Spike liked it here, too - the other place a dim memory that didn't compare, mostly. But - this wasn't a fucking fairy tale. "Did he like gutting those girls?" Spike said, watching the odd, rapt expression snap off Xander's face, replaced with misery.
"Yeah, he did. Not because he wanted - it wasn't like torture, to him. It was survival." Xander looked straight at Spike, his shoulders going back and his chin coming up. "Like when you killed that guy in London, that first night. Survival."
"I don't have to vivisect my prey," Spike snapped, and Xander shivered.
"No, you don't. But you've done worse. But - Spike..." Xander pushed himself to his feet and paced over to the French doors - stood looking out at the garden, silver and charcoal in the glow of a gibbous moon - squares of honey-gold from the lights of other, occupied rooms. "The thing is - I remember him. I remember how fucking happy he was when he saw me at my place. I remember how much it hurt when that ward burned him and - I remember riding the lightning over London. He could hear me. He could hear my soul and it was... It was so...beautiful."
"So, you're the demon apologist now? Telling me how my own kind's got its own special take on the world - how we're all precious, pretty snowflakes or some such bollocks?" Spike stood up too - stomped over to the bar for another, stiffer drink. Xander just stood there, looking out, and Spike stood a few steps behind him, watching. Listening to him breathe and listening to his heart - to the faint susurrus of metal against metal when Xander touched the necklace again.
"No, I'm not...whatever that is. I'm trying to tell you that... I guess I'm trying to say I don't see things...the same anymore. I still - have those bad dreams..." Xander's voice cracked a little and he paused for a moment then went on, voice hardening into something closer to a growl. "Doesn't matter how much he liked fucking orange soda, he still tore those girls apart and didn't...fucking care. But he...cared about other things. Cared like - anybody would. Like any human would." Xander's fists clenched and relaxed, his shoulders tight. "And it's all in me, now." Xander turned around with a sigh - stood there staring at Spike. Staring long enough to make Spike fidget.
"So you had this epiphany and thought I should know?"
"Yeah. Kinda. Thought I should tell you I didn't let them - talk me into anything. I didn't let them erase anything. I remember other stuff too, Spike."
"Back to the stuff, now," Spike said, still feeling like he wanted to fidget. Feeling nervous, somehow and not quite as smug and Xander smiled a slow smile. Took a few steps forward until he was right there, up close and personal and completely ignoring anybody's 'space'. He was warm, and smelled thickly of salt and honey and something...savory. Something good that Spike wanted to taste.
"Yeah. Stuff. Like...movies and take away and steak and kidney pie. Stuff like that." Xander's smile faltered a tiny bit and his fingers twitched and Spike knew he wanted to touch the necklace. "Like you crawling under the bed with me."
"Don't do that for just anyone, you know. You were a special case."
"Special, all right," Xander said, and swayed forward just a little.
Spike closed his eyes - took in the scent and the heat and the pressure of him. Xander's blood rushing through his heart - his lungs pushing and pulling air and his knee creaking as he shifted, just a little. "More special than you know, love...so bloody much more -"
Faint laugh from Xander. "If you ever walk away from me again I'll give this necklace to Willow and let her teleport you to a warded circle in the middle of Council Headquarters."
Spike's eyes snapped open and Xander was this this this close, face solemn and sober but his gaze - laughing. "I ever walk away again, love, I'll deserve it."
"Yeah, you will." Xander leaned in that last inch - pressed his lips to Spike's and kissed him. After a moment or two of sheer intoxication Spike's arms came up and pulled Xander close. His hands fitted into the hollow at the small of Xander's back and pushed up through his hair and Xander sighed into the kiss and wound his own arms around Spike. Found that hold that pressed them together just right - embraced Spike just right and Spike almost laughed and Xander pulled back, smiling.
"What?"
"This stuff. You remember this stuff, too."
"Oh, yeah. Pretty damn hard to forget...kiss...this...kiss...stuff."
"Bloody well hope so," Spike huffed, and then tumbled them both to the couch for as much stuff...as they could stand.
One year later, somewhere in Middle America...
"Xander! Fuck's sake, can we go?" Spike appeared like a jack-in-the-box at Xander's elbow and Xander almost toppled his hot chocolate - with extra whipped cream, nutmeg and cinnamon - over his laptop.
"Spike! Jesus - Christ!" Xander gripped the edges of the table and tried to slow his heart down from running-from-trolls speed while Spike jittered next to him, oblivious to the glares coming at him from the clusters of students huddled over their own laptops, notes, and mocha frappe latte-chino whatevers. "Do you want me to die of a heart attack? Just - keel over in the middle of nowhere in a pool of overpriced coffee?"
"Got a heart like a steeplechaser, love, you won't die from that." Spike's fingers - which were like pointy icicles - gripped Xander's chin and tilted his head up. Xander sat there and let himself be kissed breathless by cold, cold lips and tongue and teeth.
"Right, okay. Uh. What's a steeplechaser?" Spike grinned. "Never mind. Why are you in here yelling at me?"
"It's almost six. We need to get on the road, love." Spike was tapping his fingers and twitching at his coat and in general acting like a six year old on a sugar high and that could only mean one thing.
He'd just cheated the entire demon population of Bumfuck, Wherever out of every kitten they had.
"I’m not gonna get in the car and find it packed to the gills with kittens, am I?" Xander asked, clicking the 'spell check' button and watching various words light up in red on his screen. Getting better - only eight, this time.
"What?" Spike looked guilty for all of three seconds and then he pulled out his cigarettes to cover - lit up with a flourish and leaned on the back of the chair, his hand stroking absently through Xander's hair. "This town's dead, mate - not got a kitten here I'd heave into a pit of -"
"This is a no smoking facility, sir," a voice piped up, and Xander and Spike both swiveled to stare at the gangly student standing behind them.
"Yeah?" Spike said. He took a deep lungful of smoke. Xander hastily hit 'save' and closed his laptop - shoved it into its bag while wrestling with his jacket. It was caught on something on the back of the chair.
Spike blew the lungful into the boy's face. "Piss. Off."
The student coughed, waving a crumpled napkin in front of his face. "I c-can have you banned! All I have to do -"
"Listen, you git -"
"Whoa, look at the time! Gotta go!" Xander yanked his jacket so hard the chair came with it, then toppled over and crashed to the floor. Spike and the student both stared at him.
"Bloody hell, Xander, what've you got against that chair?"
"We need to go. Remember? Lots of driving to do. Hold this." Xander shoved his laptop bag into Spike's arms, confident Spike would catch it. He yanked his jacket on and grabbed his hot chocolate and then Spike's arm and towed him through the tables and out the door. Spike stumbled backwards through the tables, clutching the laptop and blowing as much smoke over the crowd as he could.
"Man, one of these days -"
"One of these days what? Not one bugger in there with the stones to do more than whinge at me."
Xander stopped by their car, shivering. It was snowing like crazy, thick white flakes spinning down and down, already a couple of inches thick over the parked cars. They prickled with cold as they fell on Xander's skin, like a soft mist. It was pretty in the white light of the parking lot lamps. The snow shone like sugar-dust and softened the edges of everything and Xander took a long breath, liking how the cold air made the inside of his nose crinkle.
"You worry too much, love." Spike smirked at him and Xander snatched his laptop back.
"You're driving. I didn't have time to finish my letter."
"With pleasure," Spike said. He pushed Xander into the side of the car, pinning him and groping leisurely at pockets and not pockets, cigarette held out and away and his mouth finding every hot spot between Xander's chin and his collarbone.
"What are you...oh, yeah...doing?"
"Looking for the keys, love," Spike murmured, pushing an icy nose into Xander's collar.
"God! Jesus, okay - jacket pocket. No more groping until you're at least seventy degrees." Spike jangled the keys and straightened up, grinning at him and Xander grinned back - wiped snow out of his eye and walked around to the passenger side.
An hour later he'd finished his letter to Willow and one to Dawn, deleted a ton of spam and shared the 'In-Crease UR P*E*N*I*S SIZE!!!' advertisement with Spike. He folded his laptop away and reclined the seat a little. They were somewhere in Kansas, heading west - California by Friday and Christmas with Angel and Buffy and the little bald monkey they called Natalie. Seven months old for her first Christmas. To make up for it, Xander had promised Spike an entire week in Vegas for the New Year.
They had a suite at the Las Vegas Hilton. The Star Trek Experience was going to be taking all of Xander's folding cash, that much he knew already. If Spike would let him out of the room. Xander tilted his head, peering speculatively at Spike in the cobalt glow of the dash lights and occasional oncoming head light. Spike was tapping on the wheel, singing softly along with ... Xander concentrated. Tom Petty.
"What is it, love? Want to stop?"
"Oh, no. Just thinking about our Las Vegas trip."
"Yeah?" Spike grinned over at him, flash of pointy teeth and golden eyes. "New Year you're never gonna forget."
"You think?"
"Oh, I know. Trust me, pet."
"I think I do," Xander said quietly, and Spike's smile was softer this time. His hand brushed over Xander's thigh and then squeezed gently, and Xander put his own hand on top of Spike's and they rode along in a comfortable silence for a few minutes until Spike cursed and jerked his hand back to the wheel, bullying the car through a slick spot. Xander just closed his eye and gripped the door handle. He never even looked at the speedometer anymore - it wasn't worth the panic attacks. The car lurched back into true and there was a rustling in the back seat and then a small, pitiful noise.
A sort of 'meew' noise.
Xander's eye popped open. "Spike?"
"Mmm?" Spike said, fumbling along the seat for his cigarettes.
*The fake nonchalance of the caught-red-handed vampire!* "I just heard a - cat."
"No you didn't."
"Yes, yes I did."
"Meew!"
"There! I heard it again!"
"Not a cat, love."
Xander turned to stare incredulously at Spike. Spike glared at the road. "It was a cat, Spike. I know what cats sound like."
"No, it -"
"Meew! Meew!"
"In chorus! There's two cats in here, Spike!" Xander clawed at his seat-belt, thought better of it and twisted awkwardly, trying to see over the seats.
"No, there are not two cats in here -" Spike said, a little desperately, and Xander snapped on the interior light. It illuminated a cat carrier, lined with a plush and festive red and green throw. Two little faces - pale coronas around dark masks - stared up at him. Very blue, very crossed eyes blinked at him and two little mouths opened, exposing miniature white fangs and pink tongues.
"Ah ha!"
"See, not cats," Spike said, and lit up. He cracked his window and the sudden roar of cold air made the kittens hunker down, ears going back. "They're kittens."
"Spike!" Xander closed his eye and took a deep breath. Counted to ten. Lifted his hand up to the silver necklace he still wore and ran his fingertip over it. Opened his eye. "You're scaring the kittens with that noise and making them cold."
"Huh? Oh -" Spike took a huge lungful of smoke and then blew it out - shoved the butt out the window and powered the window back up.
"Why are there kittens in the car?"
"Buffy asked -"
"Oh, Jesus. Does Angel know?"
Spike looked shifty. "Angel thinks cats climb into cribs and steal a baby's breath."
"Angel doesn't know."
"I'm not daft. I made Buffy write me a note."
"A...note?" Xander boggled at Spike a little and Spike reached into his coat - pulled out a crumpled piece of paper and handed it across.
Xander unfolded it. "I, Buffy Summers Griffin, do solemnly swear and promise that kittens were my idea." It was signed with a flourish underneath and Xander silently folded it back up and handed it to Spike, who tucked it away. "Well. Okay, then."
They drove another mile or so, Refugee thumping along in the background.
"That's half the reason you agreed to this whole trip, isn't it. To send Angel into a tailspin over kittens crawling all over his precious Natalie."
"Too bloody right, love. They might even climb the tree."
"That would be something." Xander sat for another mile then mentally shrugged. He undid his seat-belt, turned off the interior light and scooted over next to Spike, snuggling close and putting his hand on Spike's thigh, high and in.
"I love you, you know. Evil, conniving creature that you are."
"Never doubted it for a minute, love."
Tags:
Final Chapter
So Spike is once again feral and William is probably in one of those heaven dimensions where he should've been all along. This whole souling of a vampire never made too much sense to me as the soul is punished for things the body did while it was under the control of a demon.
I like the bit about the memories of Spike's demon. I recall once reading an early Spangel fic where Angelus picks out the demon to inhabit his beloved William (unfortunately I can't recall the title or author--it was too many fics ago). I always thought the question of where the demons are before they inhabit a human host an interesting one that one else seems to have thought about--good job.
Well another great variation has come to an end as the bois (and kittens) ride on their merry way. So glad Xander knew that he could trust Spike with or without the soul (and I assume the others including Deadboy are still in the dark).
Any ideas about your next variation?
Shakatany
Re: Final Chapter
And thank you! I liked the idea of Xander finally knowing about demons from the inside, as it were.
I've got a lot of stuff 'simmering' as it were. Not sure what's up next.
:)
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:)
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Heeeeeeee Angel and kittens! *cackles*
*glomps* bless you for knowing knitting ravels!
Loved it, loved it, loved it!
Heee Angel and kittens!
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:)
Of coz, ravels. I actually like a ravelling sweater. Heh.
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Thank you so much!
He had to have a note.
:)
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Did Spike honestly think he was pulling one over on Xander with those tattoos? Silly vampire. :)
I love Siamese kittens! Sorry, just had to say. :)
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Yeah, good threat.
:)
Spike *was* being clever. Heh. But not clever enough.
Siamese kittens rock!
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Sorry for the dupe. Wasn't logged in and can't find the delete link for the anon comment.
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Thank you so much!
:)
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This is a delightful ending in every way. Painful as it was that they weren't together immediately, it was better for Xander to make peace with himself--and his experiences with his own demon can only help him understand Spike better (and help him forgive himself). And the kittens were the perfect touch, as was "Star Trek: The Experience"! Thanks so much for this lovely story.
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Yeah, Xander needed some time.
:)
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spike: also cute and fluffy!
wonderful wonderful story as always darling.
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*snerk*
Thank you!
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Something new soon, i'm sure.
:)
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Some people do have kitten-paranoia. Hee.
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I also find myself EXTREMELY intrigued as the memories Spike had of "before".
Spike looked away for a moment. Remembering a place of green light - a seemingly endless sea of towering green and a true sea of cold, depthless water that foamed with life. Remembered the bone-deep tug and screaming pain of becoming. Remembered - waking.
So, so intriguing and rather eerie.
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Yis, William deserved heaven.
I liked the idea of the demon coming from somewhere else that was a *place*.
Since Spike's talk with Buffy in season two, it seemed that Earth was unfamiliar.
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♥ you.
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:)
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Julia, all tapped out for words, here after a overwhelmingly becousined day
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Sorry your day was so taxing, but i'm glad this made you a little happier.
:)
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Yeah, both of them. The note from Buffy is a great idea!
And I'm so glad they're together and things are ok. But, *snif* it's over? *sigh*
And so short too.
Now I'll miss it!
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:)
*smoooooooch*
Something else soon.
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Heh, love those little details, like running from trolls, and the jittery, swindling Spike. Really interesting about Xander getting the demon's memories. I'd suspected about Spike's tattoos but the other was a curveball. No wonder he was such a mess.
"In chorus! There's two cats in here, Spike!" Xander clawed at his seat-belt, thought better of it and twisted awkwardly, trying to see over the seats.
"No, there are not two cats in here -" Spike said, a little desperately
HA ha HA! Loved that ending scene, and Spike being shifty about Angel's knowledge.
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Thank you!
:)
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I know I always say this, but your Spike is Spike. And maybe I should tell you this more often - your Xander is the Xander I fell in love with when watching Buffy and the one I see warped and tangled into a mess too often when reading fic. There are few authors who capture them both, fit and mesh them together seamlessly and you are one of the best.
The best.
Seriously.
Loved this, knew I would when I started reading, know it whenever you post a new fic. Pain, anger, fire, love, laughter. Everything in between.
*loves*
It was amazing, darlin!
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Thank you so very much! Especially for the Xander comments 'cause i always feel a little uncertain writing him.
*hugs you hard*
You're the best!
:)
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And kittens to wind up Angel. With a note from Buffy! That was the perfect note to end this on. *luffs*
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Kittens!
:)
Thank you so much, bay-bee. Especially since you already saw this and didn't actually need to say anything.
<3
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A little humor is always good.
Thank you!
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Awesome story!!!
Great job as always!!!
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Yay!
Thank you thank you!
:)
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I love that you have Spike run away, because, after all, that is one of his favorite ways of dealing.
A chorus of kittens! wee! I love kitties...
Thanks for the ride!
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:)
Everyone loves kitties!
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Thanks for taking the time to comment.
:)
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You weave magic when you write Xander and Spike.
As usual this story was watered with a few of my tears, but I always trust you to make it right in the end, and you did. Thank you.
I too have always had my doubts about this whole "soul" thing.
Spike has always been Spike. I never thought it was a soul he got in Africa any way, he didn't need to, if ever anyone already had a soul it was Spike even from our earliest acqauintance with him a soul was present, not a human soul perhaps but a soul none-the-less.
Also
Check out my lovely Icon. Fanbot made it for me!
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Wow, just...thank you!
:)
I love to hear that an actual emotional response happened *because of my story*. That's just the greatest thing ever.
And i totally agree with you on the soul thing. Totally.
Ooh, lovely icon! Really delightful.
:)
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I love how this piece went from extreme h/c to lighthearted fun and banter. Love Buffy's note.
Wonderful read.
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:)
I just can't sustain the angst. Life can't, either, so i try to make it all good at the end.