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Monday, September 6th, 2004 01:28 am
Hullo, flist!
You know, i seriously debated whether or not i should post this yet - or like this at all. I mean - do i REALLY want another WIP on my LJ, trying to keep it updated? Should i just FINISH IT!!?
But then i thought - well, people were so excited, and i don't want them to forget the first part completely, so...

Here it is, part one...
Totally unbeta'd, so please feel free to point out my dreadful mistakes so i can archive a nice clean copy.
:)
Thank you thank you [livejournal.com profile] roxymissrose for the look-see and encouragement. Loves ya, babe!

The previous part is at Scarecrow Horses and also in my memories.


For three days Dawn had been bouncing through the house, chattering almost endlessly and Xander was about to lose it. Spike just laughed, watching her; indulging her sudden desires to buy presents for everyone, to start packing now, to call Buffy again, Willow again. Xander understood her excitement, but he was on edge, and it was getting harder and harder to hide.

For the first time in months Xander had actually sat down and talked to Willow, the phone hot against his ear, and heard the whole story. The Council had finally come to its senses, so to speak, and realized that one Slayer simply could not deal with a rampaging Hellgod. They'd begged, borrowed, maybe even stole power and information and had finally found the thing that would defeat her. This after three abysmal attempts to contain her that had lost the Watchers a double handful of their members. The final solution to Glory had been something called a Qui-Gon Jinn Puzzle Box - Willow's voice had drowned a little in static and Xander wasn't sure that that was exactly what she'd said - that had sucked Glory into an alternate dimension that was inside the box. Roomy, apparently, since it had taken a half-dozen of her little troll acolytes and some random demons, as well.

"You should have seen it, Xander! It was all - lights! Camera! Action! Except no actual camera 'cause we weren't there to take pictures except maybe we should have 'cause it was like this amazing tornado or something made out of lights and sparkles and...and fairy dust -"

"Fairy dust?" Xander asked, laughing, and Willow laughed too.

"Well, some sort of highly magical dusty stuff! It glittered, okay? Like in Legend when Una tried to tick Jack..." Willow went off on some complicated ramble that somehow equated a movie fairy with a million-year-old Hellgod being sucked into a cloisonné prison and Xander let his mind wander.

Spike hadn't touched him since that day. Well, that wasn't strictly true. He had touched him, but nothing had come of it. Brushing his hand over Xander's back when they were both in the kitchen - propping his feet close and letting his toes bump Xander's while watching TV - coming up behind him and nuzzling into the hair at the nape of his neck and then slipping away. Xander had yet to touch back - he was nervous about Dawn seeing - and he wasn't sure what he wanted to do. Wasn't sure if this was just some game, to Spike. Some...easy let-down because now they'd be going back to Sunnydale and the Stalk-the-Slayer business would start up all over again and Xander really didn't think he could watch that. He wondered what the likelihood was of him moving to, say, Oxnard and getting his old job back.

*Not like he didn't say. Because he DID. He said - we aren't soul mates and we aren't each other's...one true love. Just - having fun. Just...enjoying it while it lasts and FUCK...why did it have to last such a damn short time?*

"Xander? Are you there?" Willow's voice was sharp with - something - and Xander straightened unconsciously in his chair and cleared his throat.

"Yeah, I'm here Wills, sorry, just -"

"Oh, it's okay! I know you're excited about coming home... I can't believe you're finally coming home! It's been so long -" And Willow was off again, detailing all sorts of things, large and small, that had changed since they'd left. Talking about classes and about Tara, talking about some UCS guy Buffy had gone out with, talking about how hard dealing with Glory had been - stuff she had put in her emails but needed to say again for some reason and Xander just kind of zoned out.

"Xander, I don't think you're listening," Willow said, and Xander nodded distractedly before realizing he was on the phone and she couldn't see that.

"I - I guess I'm a little...overwhelmed. Things are just kind of different now, you know? It's kinda...weird.

"Yeah. Speaking of...I saw your mom in the grocery store the other day. She looked - good." Willow's voice was tentative and Xander sighed. He'd asked Willow to print out a letter for him - a story about needing some time on his own and that he was okay, everything was fine. Something so his folks wouldn't worry. They hadn't sent any sort of reply back and Xander had given up asking.

"You did? Did she - I mean...that's great." Willow sighed, and Xander clutched the phone a little tighter. *She didn't say anything about me. She didn't...ask. She doesn't...* Xander slammed the mental doors shut on that thought hard. He was not going to sit here and think about his parents and get all...

"I'm sorry, Xander. She seemed a little - preoccupied. I - we didn't talk long."

*Just long enough to confirm that they don't care. Fuck. Neither should I.* Xander rubbed his eyes with one hand, doing his best not to let it get to him. *Don't want to care.*

"Wills, I gotta go," Xander said, his voice strained and a little hoarse, and he heard Willow take in a sharp breath.

"Xander, I'm really -"

"Don't, okay? Just...don't. I - I'll talk to you tomorrow or something, okay? Bye Wills."

"Bye Xander. Say hi to Dawnie for me." Willow's voice was sad but Xander resolutely clicked the phone off - set it on the table instead of throwing it. He got up and went over to the fridge and got a soda out and stood leaning against the sink, drinking slowly.

*I'm twenty, damnit! What they think doesn't matter anymore. I'm...fuck, I'm in MEXICO! I'm on my own and I helped save the fuckin' world and...* Xander glared at the floor and blinked rapidly. *Think about something else, for fucks sake...think about...anything...*

The Council had finally coughed up some cash - reinstated Giles' pay and dealt with the mess that Joyce's death had made of Buffy's finances. They were paying for Giles and Buffy to fly down to Veracruz and bring Dawn and him home. Spike - had muttered something about how he wasn't going to abandon the DeSoto and he was driving back, but there hadn't been an offer of a ticket for Spike in the first place.

*Can't believe they'd do that to him, after all he's been through for her...for DAWN. He let Glory torture him! And he...* Well, nobody but Xander knew how he'd financed them here, and Xander was pretty sure that if he were to tell Buffy or Giles or even Willow about it they'd be disgusted and angry. Angry because he was biting humans and disgusted because...

*Because they would be. They'd think 'whore' and that would be it. But he's just doing...what he can. Selling what he can 'cause he doesn't have a choice. I mean...I don't like it but I understand it.* The Scoobies, he was sure, would never understand. *And when did they become 'The Scoobies'? I'm still a Scooby...aren't I?* Xander sighed, and shook his head. He really wasn't, anymore. Research was mostly beyond him when he had to work two jobs just to stay afloat, and his years of fighting beside Buffy had been more a string of bad luck and near misses than anything else. It was a scary kind of thought. It made him feel - adrift. Like he had no anchor, and no real home.

*Two more days and they'll be here. Two more days and I'll be back in Sunnydale. Lost my apartment so I don't have any place to stay... At least Anya put it all in storage for me but...where can I go when I get there? Crash with Giles, maybe... Back in Sunnydale and...I don't even know if I WANT to go back, anymore...* Thinking about it all made Xander feel a little sick and he dumped the rest of his soda down the sink and paced around the apartment for a while, jittery and unsettled. Dawn was off with Serafina, getting in as much time as she could with her friend before they left and Spike was -

"Would you stop stompin' around like a bloody elephant?" Spike stood in his bedroom doorway, in those damn striped pants, glaring at Xander with sleep-heavy eyes.

"I'm not-! Oh, fine. I am." Xander flung himself down on the couch and a moment later Spike ghosted over, sliding over the back and settling bonelessly beside him. Xander wanted to get up again - wanted to touch him - but he held himself still and kept his eyes down, concentrating on picking at the threads on the worn knee of his jeans.

"What's troubling you, pet?" Spike said, and the change in his voice - from irritated growl to soft concern - made Xander glance sharply over at him. Spike was looking at him, sitting perfectly still and pinning him with that clear, intent gaze that made Xander want to squirm. Hair every which-way and left-over makeup around his eyes from last night. Double duty at the blood-house because he'd stepped up the de-chipping schedule. Xander couldn't tell if the circles under his eyes were smeared eye-liner or not. He forced himself to stay calm - to meet Spike's look with one of his own.

"I - it's... I'm just...nervous about going back." Xander watched the scarred eyebrow lift itself and braced himself for... something. What, he didn't honestly know, anymore. This Spike was so very, very different from the Sunnydale Spike. *Hell yeah, different. And not just the...ohgodsex, either.*

"Are you? Why's that, now?" Spike asked, and Xander had to suck in a startled breath.

*He's being nice! God I hate this.* "Well I guess because... Willow's been telling me how much has changed and...about the Council and everything and... I don't have an apartment anymore or - anything... It's just - weird." Spike just looked at him some more and Xander wanted to bolt. Wanted to take the vampire's shoulders and shake him until the cool, calm look was rattled right off his face. *I'm nervous because there's every possibility that once we get back to Sunnydale and you start chasing Buffy again and I start being...HIM again I'll just go postal! Fuck, I might start right here!* Xander shook his head, looking away finally, searching frantically for the remote to the TV in an effort to get some noise - some distance - between himself and his thoughts and Spike. He shivered convulsively when cool fingertips touched his jaw - gently cupped his face and turned his head. Spike was sitting up, leaning towards Xander a little and his eyes were wide and open.

"Not as bad as all that, is it?" he said, and Xander felt a surge of hysterical laughter bubble up in his chest and he gritted his teeth against it.

"Jesus, Spike - it's..." And Spike leaned forward and kissed him. It was several minutes before Xander could come up for air.

"You just need a little soothing, yeah? C'mon to bed, pet," Spike murmured, his lips brushing Xander's and Xander just sat there, shivering, his eyes shut and his skin singing where Spike's hand and lips were touching it. "Xander? C'mon..." Spike's hand in his, tugging, and he got up and stumbled into the bedroom after Spike - let him take his clothes off and push him down on the bed. Let him do this slow, crawling grope all over him, the striped pants on the floor and Spike like a snake, heavy and cool and impossible to escape Lips and fingers, tongue and teeth and Xander was starting to hyperventilate. He jerked hard away from Spike - pushed himself up the bed until the back of his head and his shoulders hit the carved wood of the headboard.

"Xan -?"

"Don't - don't. Just - quit, just -" Xander knew he looked like an idiot - chest heaving and his cock so fucking hard and his eyes about to brim over with tears. But it had hit him like a fist to his gut. Hit him hard. Spike was playing with him. Was - was doing what he did at the blood-house, Xander was sure. The image in his mind - so vivid it made him sick; Spike talking soft and sweet to some rich bitch with a complex - Spike easing her down and smoothing things over and Spike being gentle and it was just so fucking wrong.

"What the fuck is your problem, Harris?" Spike snapped, and Xander took in a hard breath, gasping chuckle.

"Now that's the S-spike I know and love, that's the - that's -" Spike made a disgusted sound and got up - stalked out of the room. Xander laughed again - wrapped his arms around his ribs and looked up at the ceiling, willing the tears to go away, surrounded by the smoky-sweet, musky smell that permeated Spike's pillows and sheets. There was a distant crashing sound and Spike stalked back in - flopped himself onto the bed and grabbed Xander by the back of the neck, pulling.

"Sit up, you git," he growled, and Xander sat up slowly, blinking. Spike pried one of his hands loose from his ribs and shoved something into it. "Drink that," he ordered. Xander looked down at the water-glass in his hand - at the two or three inches of amber liquid inside.

"Jesus -"

"Just drink it, Xan," Spike said, and there was a crack in his voice - a twist of utter weariness and Xander ducked his head and drank. The whiskey burned - the fumes went up his nose - and he choked, coughing. Spike smacked him sharply on the back and pushed the glass at him and Xander finished it. Spike snatched the glass away and set it on the floor and then turned back to him.

"Now tell me what in hell is going on." Spike sounded pissed - looked pissed - but his hand had crept out and was on Xander's knee, just lightly resting there, thumb stroking into the crease behind it and Xander watched, mesmerized.

"You don't have to do this, you know. I mean, I f-figured it out and -"

"Figured what out?" Spike sounded genuinely confused and Xander risked a look up - got the full manga-look of wide, wondering eyes and he groaned. The whiskey was like liquid fire in his belly and the heat was creeping outwards, tingling.

"Look, I know that you do this, okay? That you - act like you...really want - I mean, it's what you do every night, so you don't have to d-do it with me. I'm not a fucking idiot," he added, sniffing. Spike's thumb had stopped moving and his eyes had gone from wide-open to narrow - to pissed off and Xander cringed a little under that basilisk gaze.

"You think this is what I do?" Spike's voice was low and hissing and Xander flinched again.

"Well - yeah. You - make 'em feel good, don't you? Make 'em...want you." Spike just stared at him, as unmoving as a statue and Xander started to inch away, aware that something bad was probably going to happen. His skin was hot, and his legs felt too far away - felt rubbery.

"You think I'm...treating you like some...trick."

"Aren't you? We're gonna leave soon - go back to S-sunnydale and..." Xander turned on his side - grabbed one of Spike's pillows and curled around it. His head was swimming. The familiar - comforting - scent on the pillowcase filled his nostrils and he breathed in deeply - peered at Spike over the bunched case. Spike was still staring at him, but the 'kill you now' intensity of his stare had dimmed a bit to 'maybe I'll just make you cry instead'. *An' I probably will. Fuck. This is just so pathetic. I KNEW this was a bad idea...*

"What does this have to do with Sunnydale?" Spike asked, and Xander sighed, exasperated.

"Hello - Hellmouth! Where the Slayer lives? The girl you've been stalking for - months?"

"I have not," Spike snapped. "I've been here for months, watching out for the Niblet and you." Spike stared at him and then he sighed heavily, running his fingers back through his hair. "We talked about this, Xander. You said - this isn't true love or anything."

"No, you said that," Xander mumbled into the pillow. He felt - fuzzy. Hot and fuzzy, like a...like a bear.

"You feel like a bear?" Spike asked, and his voice was so bewildered that Xander laughed. And then he stopped and took in a hitching breath, because Spike's hand was back on his knee, cold on his heated skin, nearly weightless.

"I told you...stuff like this never turns out well. I like you, Spike," Xander said, trying to convey what he really meant. Not actually sure what he really meant, but knowing it was true. He liked Spike - a lot. And he was... *I am so very fucked.* He watched Spike frown a little, his head to one side.

"Harris..." Spike said helplessly, and Xander pushed his face into the pillow and shut his eyes - tried not to want...anything.

"I really like you, Spike. You said you wouldn't hurt me," he added, barest whisper, and he heard Spike heave another breathy sigh. Then the bed was shaking a little and Spike was shifting - was curling up behind him, tucking Xander up in his arms, chin on the crown of Xander's head and his body touching at every point down Xander's back. One cool hand stroked down his shoulder and arm - found his own hand and curled around it, thumb rubbing lightly over and over his knuckles.

"I won't, pet. Won't hurt you. You don't love me, Xander...and neither does she, yeah? It was all - for nothing. You just...just sleep a little now and we'll talk about it later." Xander wanted to protest that - *you don't know how I feel!* but did he really feel that way, anyway? The stresses of the past few days, and the upheaval he felt to his very soul - *and the whiskey* all combined to make his limbs heavy as stone, his eyes impossible to open. He sighed, his breath catching a little, and Spike's arm hugged him tighter, and then he slipped sideways and down into sleep.




Continued here.

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