Unbreakable

By fanbot

Eleven

While Xander knocked the dust off his clothes and washed his face in the changing rooms, Spike took to the tunnels, ran to the house and burst through the door into the kitchen. As he’d hoped, everyone was gathered around the table.

“Spike!” Willow fussed. “You’re all dusty.”

“I know, not important.” Spike put his hands flat on the table and looked at each one of them in turn. “I’m sure Gunn’s told you Xander’s telling the story of his capture tonight. If you can’t handle it, if you’re going to weep through the whole story, don’t be there.”

“But…” Willow started.

Spike stared her down with his ‘don’t think I won’t fuck you up if you do’ face. “Stay in the kitchen and bake comfort cookies or something. It’s going to be hard enough on him without a pity party. Tell Dawn when she gets in.” With that, he retreated back to the basement to clean himself up.

A few minutes later, a less dusty Xander came in to find a few spoons still in mid air. “Is there something wrong?”

“No. No,” Gunn covered. “Oz just realized he was supposed to set the Tivo for something.”

“Yeah,” Oz said, getting up. “I’ll go do that.”

Midra bustled up and sat a bowl of ice cream before him. “Do ya want nuts or sprinkles on that?”

Xander picked up his spoon and grinned. “What do you think?”

“Both and a dash of M&M’s.”

Xander turned to Gunn. “You’ve got a great lady here.”

“Don’t I know it.”

Spike made a more sedate entrance and settled in a chair. “I’m not even going to ask if you want any,” Midra told him.

Spike pulled a pout. “What did I do wrong now?”

“Don’t even try to make me look the villain in front of Xander. I just know very well you don’t like ice cream.”

“Spike!” Xander cried, exaggerating his shock. “You don’t like ice cream? Not even chocolate?”

Spike slouched, laced his fingers behind his head, and stretched his legs out. “Nah. I don’t like cold food. It just lays in there and takes forever to melt.”

“Ew!”

+++

After the ice cream was eaten, Willow took Xander aside. “Giles e-mailed me. He wants you to call him, when you’re ready.”

“Giles,” Xander said with a smile. “It’s only now I see how much patience he had with all of us and how much he cared.”

“He still does care, Xander.” Willow put her hand on her old friend’s arm. “He also told me to ask you if you want your backpack.”

Xander startled. “My… backpack?” The few possessions Xander had were in that backpack. He’d figured it was looted from the hotel or lost when he turned up missing.

“The hotel sent it to him as your employer. His name and the headquarters address was listed as the emergency contact when you registered. Plus, I think he made a few threats.”

Xander paused. He’d started to rebuild a life after Sunnydale and had bought the bright blue pack in a camping store. It had acted as carry on during his trip to London, then to Africa. He’d carried that battered blue pack on all his adventures. As many nights in his early captivity he’d wished for the simple comforts offered by its contents, he couldn’t even remember what was in it now. He had left it behind the day he was kidnapped as he went to market because he was staying in a real hotel with real security and it would be nice to travel light for an outing.

“You don’t have to answer now, Xander,” Willow said softly, breaking into his thoughts.

“Yeah. I’d like it. And... tell him I’ll call him soon.”

The evening passed quickly with Xander taking a tour of Willow and Midra’s herb garden and another lively discussion of what movies and television shows he’d missed. Dawn returned home before dinner. Her contribution was to gather a stack of DVDs suitable for watching on the smaller TV without surround sound in his room.

During dinner, Spike could see the nervousness building around the edges of the group. Xander kept falling quiet, and Willow kept biting her lip and glancing at Xander. Dawn babbled about her day less than usual.

“So, Red,” Spike cut into one of her stares. She blinked and shifted her attention to Spike. “You and Bit going to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies like you’ve been promising?”

Willow looked over to Dawn who nodded.

“Can you put walnuts in them like you used to?” Xander asked, missing the subtext.

“Sure can!”

The rest of the meal passed in a better mood. As Midra and Dawn gathered the plates, Gunn stood up. “I’ll be in the den when you’re ready, Xander.”

Spike watched him nod and bring up a hand to bite on the side of a nail in on old familiar manner. It was going to be a bumpy night.

Xander went into the living room to find Gunn sitting in an armchair with a laptop on a tray table and a small tape recorder at the ready. “I need to get all the details right. I hope you don’t mind.”

“Of course not,” Xander shrugged and dropped onto the end of the couch closest to Gunn. “Tell me, do you charge by the hour?”

Gunn laughed. “Shit. You’re family. Don’t ask that again. ‘sides, this for the greater good now.”

Oz walked in as he was talking and sat on the other arm chair, followed by Spike who sat an open beer before Xander and sat down beside him. “Go ahead when you’re ready. The ladies inform me they’ll read the Cliff’s notes later.”

Xander was more glad than he realized that it was only him and the men. He took a swallow of the beer. “What do you want to know?”

Gunn tapped a few keys on his computer and switched on the recorder. “Eventually, everything you can tell us that will bring the mother fuckers down. Tonight, let’s focus on the details of your capture.” Gunn looked at the screen and read off a date and location he knew well. “You were first reported missing when you didn’t call in before your flight. Then you missed it.”

Xander took a deep breath and let it out. Spike heard his heart speed up as he remembered.

He felt good. He’d rounded up three Slayers this month, and he was headed home in two days. He had just shopped the last market before the rainy season hit and mailed off a package to home. Trinkets for everyone.

Not so long ago, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere without his collection of Babylon 5 collectors plates on the wall, his comics neatly in their bags, and a selection of T-shirts. After Sunnydale sank along with said collections, he rapidly adjusted to living out of a backpack. Hell, he’d had to buy the backpack. Now his dusty once-blue pack was more of a companion than anyone. After the last year of traveling around the inhospitable paths of the dark continent, he knew what possessions mattered; a good warm blanket, comfortable shoes, a bowl, a sharp knife, a floppy hat, and when lucky; a book to read.

“I went shopping and had just dropped off a package of gifts.”

“It arrived,” Oz said quietly. “I’ve been told about it.” Xander nodded at the odd comfort of this small event.

He smiled at the lady who had sold him a colorful scarf for Buffy earlier. The lady smiled back, waved a red scarf at him, and tried to sell him another one “in case he’d forgotten someone.” He shook his head and headed out of the market. He passed the last stall when it happened.

“One minute, everything was fine. Then there was panic. I don’t remember hearing any gunshots or an explosion.” He spoke like it was a theory he’d been trying to work out.

There was a sudden collective cry and the crowd surged around him. The air that had carried some atmosphere of celebration, abruptly turned sour and sharp with the tang of fear.

He tried to push his way to shelter, but the crowd carried him along like a flood-swollen river. Surprisingly, he found himself pushed into the scarf seller’s booth. When had he been turned around? He grabbed one of the poles and swung himself out of the pull of the crowd. He tripped over something in the booth and looked down to find the once-smiling seller lying on the ground. She still clutched the scarf she had waved at him. The red of it blended with the blood that ran from her head.

He crouched behind the flimsy shelter with her. He had no fear of the dead. At least this one he knew would not rise again. The poles rocked and swayed. After what seemed like hours, the flood of running feet stopped. He applied one of his best skills. He hid. Rules one and two for Hellmouth children. If you can, run, if you can’t, hide.

He heard the guttural sounds of demon speak before he saw them. He wasn’t sure of what kind they were, but didn’t look to find out. He heard screams and things being smashed all around him. Where were the police? What was going on here? He clutched the biggest piece of wood he could get his hands on and waited.

“There were just suddenly people running everywhere and shouting. Somehow I got turned around and was swept back into the market. I… I hid in a booth, but there were demons.”

When they finally found him, he swung the sharp end of the stick with all his might at the ugly, horned face that appeared over the edge of the ruined stall. Thick, black blood and watery fluid ran down his hand as he felt an eyeball give way under his attack. His stomach lurched at knowing what he’d done. The sense memories of it happening to him came back.

“Fyarl demons. I hurt one of them. Took out an eye,” Spike watched as Xander’s hand moved to cup his own empty socket.

The fyarl demon roared and knocked all barriers from between them. He tried to scramble away, but was grabbed before he could move. He was lifted in the air and felt himself flying toward another ruined stall. His last illogical thought was that at least it was a carpet seller’s booth to land in.

They hauled him out of the wreckage and two of them held his arms. They dragged him one street over to where a short figure in a fancy hooded robe stood over several other people who lay passed out or dead on the street. It waved its hand, said something, and Xander’s world went dark.

“They dragged me out. There was a short figure in a cloak. He said something and I was out.”

“We wondered if they used mages,” Gunn muttered.

“I saw someone die before they knocked me out,” Xander said sadly.

Spike dropped his hand to the couch, letting it land next to Xander’s leg to let him know he was there.

Gunn clicked a key. “We suspected you were taken in the riot. The timing was too good. That day five people died and at least twenty five went missing, including you.”

“When I came to, it was dark. I was in the back of an army troop truck with about fifteen other men. And I was wearing the bands.”

“It would take some mojo to keep you out that long, and while they put the arm bands on.” Gunn said.

“Yeah.” Xander twisted one of the leather bands, then abruptly unsnapped it. He rubbed his wrist and fiddled with the leather, turning it over and over.

“Do you know where they took you?”

“North. There was another period of unconsciousness, so I have no idea how far we went. I later learned we were in a mountain riddled with caves. One side exited into jungle, the other into desert.”

Gunn made notes. “Xander, can you tell me the names of anyone captured with you?”

Xander blinked, swallowed, and nodded. He spun the band faster and faster. “Buford Newton. White. He was a broker. Don’t know what happened to him. Marx. Skinny young guy. Jewish and proud of it. In college. Last seen in captivity in the… pleasure rooms. Jack Williams from Texas. Dead.” Spike picked up a throw pillow from the couch and put it in Xander’s hands. He clutched it without noting its arrival. “Sarah and her little boy Jason. Unknown.” Xander fell silent, clutching the pillow.

“Xander,” Gunn finally said softly, “we don’t have to do this now.”

“I want to. I know of others. Not the names of all of them but…” They could all see he was looking into the past and seeing things he did not want to again.

“I have some pictures of those missing. Do you want to look?”

Xander squeezed his eyes shut for a minute. He didn’t want to revisit his sins. He didn’t want to say aloud before his friends what he’d had to do.

“If it will help you,” came Oz’s soft voice. “Think of how it will help their families to have any news at all.”

Xander opened his eyes. “What if the news is they died at my hands in the arena?”

“Then they can mourn and move on.” Oz said, not flinching.

Spike shifted closer to Xander on the couch. He silently put a hand on the broad back and rubbed in circles, lending his support. Xander closed his eyes again. “Should I, Spike?”

“It will be cutting another link to that place. Any information you give us will weaken them until we can go in and rip their guts out.”

Xander sat up straighter and Spike stilled his hand but let it rest on his shoulder. “Show me. Show me everyone who’s vanished in Africa.”

Gunn brought up an image viewer and turned the screen so Xander could see it as he typed in the info.

“We’ll start with those who vanished when you did.” The first picture as of a young man grinning before the forbidden city in China.

“That’s Marx. As far as I know he’s still alive.” The next picture was of a sandy haired man standing at a grill wearing an apron and holding tongs. “I… He fought well. Last year we faced off in a death match.” The next picture was a middle aged African man. “I never saw him.” The next appeared to have been scanned from a Xeroxed flier. A broad shouldered man in a business suit sat at a desk. “Buford Newton. Bud. He’s a good fighter. He was sold off maybe two years ago. I don’t know where he is.”

Xander clutched the pillow as he went through the images of smiling people. All he could see was suffering and unhappiness. And in the case of three men, death at his own hands. They reached the last of the files and Gunn turned the computer away.

“Thank you,” he said softly. “You’ve been a big help.”

Xander abruptly stood, towering over Gunn and almost knocking over the lap table. “A big help? How? By... by killing them?” Xander threw down the pillow and ran for the door.

“Xander, wait!” Gunn called after him.

“Don’t wait up, and save us some cookies,” Spike said as he ran after the big man.

He caught up with Xander on the porch, where he stood with arms locked leaning on the railing. “I’m a murderer, Spike,” he muttered.

Spike crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar. “So tell me, what would have happened if you hadn’t killed them?”

“Death.”

“For you?”

“And them. The first time they put me in a death match, I threw my weapon aside and refused to make the killing blow. I had been told what would happen, but I’d never seen it before. I’d never been allowed to watch a death match session. They… they took the guy. He was a little shorter than me, built like a foot ball player. They made an event out of it. All evening he hung in the ring and the victors would take a stab at him or... or a bite. They used magic to keep him alive until I made the blow and ended it for him. They made it clear that next time it would me hung up there.”

“So it was all self preservation? Every time you killed?”

“In the ring, yeah.”

Spike let that comment go for the moment. “Then you’re not a murderer.” He pushed off the pillar and strode down the steps. “You said you wanted to see the ocean? Come on.” Spike started walking down the driveway in the darkness, his long legs eating ground. He listened and was gratified when he heard Xander coming up behind him at a trot. Spike lengthened his own stride and Xander was soon running after him. He let him catch up as they turned onto the public road. Xander didn’t even look at him, just watched his own feet move. “It’s two miles straight ahead,” Spike said. “I’ll see you there.” Spike dropped to a walk and watched as Xander started to run harder.

Xander let his rage and grief surface and shoved the energy into his legs. He felt the hard asphalt of the road still warm under his feet as he pumped his legs. Tears blurred his eye, but the road was straight. Somehow, he knew Spike was not far behind and it comforted him. Memories of the dead and the still captive swam in his head, now mixed with happy vacation snaps. By the time the hard road melted into sand and a short flight of stairs climbed a dune, his breath burned in his lungs and sweat covered his body.

He stopped and breathed deep of the salty air as the moonlit ocean lapped at his feet. His breathing evened out and Spike strolled up beside him as if he’d happened to run into him while shopping. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”


Twelve

Xander stopped and breathed deep of the salty air as the moonlit ocean lapped at his feet. His breathing evened out and Spike strolled up beside him as if he’d happened to run into him while shopping. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

Xander shook his head in fondness at Spike’s casual acceptance and followed the vampire. Spike patted a picnic bench on the porch of a closed bar and grill. Xander sat and Spike went around to the front of the building. Xander was puzzled until he heard the jingle of change and the whir-thump of a vending machine.

“You carry change?” Xander asked as he took the icy bottle of water Spike held out.

“Collect calls are a bitch.”

“Why not just mug the machine, Mr. Big Bad?” Xander called up an old joke.

“Why bother? Besides, I know the couple who own the place. Nice folks.”

Spike sat in silent companionship beside Xander as he drank. They watched the ocean play with a child’s sand bucket, pushing it up and down the beach. Finally Xander sighed. “I was so damn scared that day, Spike.”

“Riots are horrible, I know. The Boxer Rebellion is a good example. ‘Course at the time it was all fun to me.”

“Not helping Spike.”

“Sorry, mate. Bit ‘o my bad humor. But, yeah. Seen riots and mobs. Humans in a collective bad mood are worse than most vamps I know. Want to talk abut it?”

Xander took another big drink. “There was a lady in a stall who I had just talked to and bought a scarf from. She was smart and funny and a good salesman. It was her booth I hid in. She was dead when I jumped in there, and still holding the scarf she’d tried to sell me. Yet all I could think about was keeping myself alive.”

Spike had seen thousands of corpses in his existence and well knew the stark contract of life and death. “The madness of crowds.” Spike quoted, lacking anything else to say.

“What’s that?”

“A book I read when human. ‘Extraordinary Popular Delusions & the Madness of Crowds.’ It’s all about how people go daft when acting in mass.”

“When I was a kid, I was playing in the waves and one caught me wrong. It tumbled me and flipped me underwater. I had sand in my shorts and my hair. It was like that. The riot. I was trapped in a big power I couldn’t fight, moving me and shoving me. It was years before I’d go more than waist deep in the ocean, and I don’t like crowds any more.”

“I don’t either. Used ta love them. No better place to grab a bit of blood or dosh. Did you know I was at Woodstock?”

Xander shook his head. “It looks miserable from the pictures.”

“Nah. There was an energy there, a passionate feeling.” Spike waved his hands as if trying to capture an elusive feeling with words, then let them drop back on his knees. “Bugger that, we were all stoned to the gills.”

Xander chuckled. “Why don’t you like crowds any more?”

“Too many people, pushing, making noise… And I’ve got this soul now, don’t I? Takes the fun out of it.”

Xander studied Spike’s sharp profile. “Do you regret it, Spike? Getting the soul?”

Spike took a deep breath and blew it out in a puff. “Once in a while. To be honest, yeah. Life is fun when you don’t have morals.”

“I watched some men give up their souls, Spike.”

“Fighters?”

“It’s like some of them were waiting to let go of civilization. They got a license to kill and enjoyed using it.”

Spike met Xander’s eye levelly. “The humans you killed. What about them?”

“The ones I faced in death matches? Two of them were evil, no doubts. Three, I never met. The first man. He had a soul, Spike. I could tell. He wasn’t one who fought for bloodlust. He was like me. It was his first time in the death ring and he was just trying to stay alive.” Spike could see the pain Xander carried. “And I had to kill him.”

“You’ve got yours firmly in place,” Spike observed.

“Do I, Spike?” he asked distantly, looking away.

Spike saw him drifting into self doubt; took hold of his shoulder, gripping it firmly in comfort. Xander turned to look at him. “Hell, yeah, you do. I don’t know how you did it, but you remain a good man, Xander.”

“I have killed, lied and stolen… Even used enslaved people for sex.”

Spike’s features hardened. “Did you kill for fun? For sport?” Xander shook his head, a little horrified at the thought. “Did you only lie and steal out of need?” Xander nodded. “The people you fucked, did you abuse them or take them roughly? Leave bruises and blood?” Xander shook his head violently. “No. I bet you were gentle and said thank you every time.” He pushed Xander’s shoulder away, dismissing the notion that Xander was in any way evil. “No. You were and are a damn good man, Xander Harris. The fact you’re agonizing over it proves it. The people in that house know this, too.”

Xander nodded, knowing it was true. “I… know more that will help the cause.”

“Let it out as you need to mate. There’s no hurry.”

“Yes there is! Those people. I never knew most of their names. They were… Left handed man who fought well with a staff, or Sarah who liked having her hair brushed, or… Man who gave up while fighting so I had to kill him.” Xander dropped his head. “Seeing their faces like that…”

“I’m going to have a word with Charlie about springing that on you.” Spike said with steel in his words. ”It was hard. But think about it. Now their people will know. Questions will be answered. It’s better to be able to lay someone to rest than to wait with the faint hope year after year that they will turn up. ‘Cause in that time you just know they’re being kept from you, imprisoned. Otherwise, they’d come home.”

Xander looked at Spike who was now clutching is hands tightly together, and wondering at the determination in his voice. “You know this, don’t you?’ Xander ventured. Spike nodded. “Who?” Spike shook his head and stared out to sea. “Tell me?” Xander coaxed.

Spike looked back to Xander and saw the true caring and concern there. He had not talked about this in years. One time he’d shared with Buffy after her father missed another family birthday, but Spike knew now she’d not listened. She had not cared about him, only herself. “My father. He was a merchant. When I was twelve he went to Egypt and never came back.”

“I’m sorry.” Xander had never heard Spike speak about his past, and the Watcher’s journals knew very little.

Spike didn’t notice the softening of his accent and the properness of his speech. “Back then, communication was slow. It would be months and months between letters and we had no way of getting letters to him. The last one was on linen paper from a fancy hotel and he had put in a scrap of papyrus with a few glyphs on it. It was magical to me. He said he’d found a contact who could supply fine fabrics and that he’d start working his way back to England with the shipment. He said he would arrive in the spring. We never heard another word from him.”

Xander put his hand on Spike’s back, mirroring Spike earlier gesture. “That’s rough. Did you contact the company he worked for?”

Spike scoffed. “Company? He worked for himself. I had an uncle who tried to investigate it, but the best lead he ever got was a report from the hotel who claimed he left without paying his bill and demanded payment from Uncle. My mum and I were left alone. We had money, but only just enough.” Spike thought of the pains of being less than upper class and being scorned for having only one servant. “Once in a while, we’d reread the letters he’d sent us.”

“Oh.” Xander patted Spike’s back and let his hand drop.

Spike shook off his gloom. “So it’s good to know.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed and he chewed on the side of a nail. “My dad is dead. It just struck me. My dad is dead.”

“I heard about that.” Spike braced himself for a melt down.

“I… I can’t be too sad. Is that bad of me, Spike?”

Spike shrugged. “I don’t think so. I know you weren’t close.”

“No. We weren’t. They packed up and left Sunnydale without telling me where they’d gone. It was just because I called Aunt Susie that I found out they were safely away and where they were. I… I talked to Mom once after the Hellmouth closed and all she could talk about was collecting insurance and buying new furniture. She didn’t even ask where I was.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I… I think I let go of them right then. I always knew Dad’s drinking would be the death of him somehow.”

“But you know for sure and that makes a big difference,” Spike said.

“It does. I see that.” Xander looked again for the bucket and found it rocking in the surf.

“After I was vamped, we went to Egypt. Drusilla wanted to eat an archeologist or some damn fool thing. Even though my pop would have been an old, old man if he were alive, I still found myself watching for him.” Spike laughed. “We did got he the hotel where he last stayed and created some merry mayhem with the staff.”

He noticed Xander didn’t join in his joke.

“There’ll be a trial, Spike. The men I killed. They’ll want to know why and how. I’ll be sent to jail and I can never spend another day in a cell.”

Spike snorted. “Horse shit.” Xander turned a surprised eye to him. “Gunn is a legal god. Wolfram and Hart opened his brain and poured in every nuance of the law. He will take care of everything.”

“He’s got my confession on tape!”

“I’d bet good money the information is being transcribed and the tape blanked as we speak.”

“But shouldn’t I, Spike? Shouldn’t I pay for my sins?”

“Sounds to me like you have been. And don’t expect your friends to judge you. We all have our evils, our regrets. Remember Willow and Warren? Giles and Ben? They love you, Xander, never doubt that.”

“Wow. We really do have a high body count between us.” Xander absently drained the bottle and started twisting the cap on and off as he looked at it from this angle. “I did try to do any good I could. When I could. Fortunately, my... owner was a bit more fair than others.” Spike noticed him fingering the pearl around his neck.

“I don’t doubt that, white hat.”

Xander barked a laugh. “I’d think about that. When I was alone and had no one to talk to, I’d pretend we were all sitting around the table in the library or Magic Box and I’d look at whatever was bothering me from all sides. It’s a wonder I didn’t go multiple personality.”

“That work for you?”

"Uh huh. At first I’d ask myself ‘what would Buffy do?’ then realized the answer was often that she’d call a Scooby meeting.” Xander warmed to his theory and switched to rolling the bottle between his palms and occasionally waving it for emphasis. “Not everyone was at every meeting. It would change.”

“Why was that?”

“Not every problem’s the same, is it? Giles was always the voice of reason. I’d look at the facts I was given and try to remember anything I might know that would help. Willow would be the comforter and the one to make me look out for myself. Buffy would help me be merciless when I had to. Oz would help me stay calm.” Xander suddenly became aware of how much he was revealing and blushed.

Spike gave him an arched brow and smiled. “You were lucky to have such friends.”

“Yeah.” Xander scowled at the bottle he was playing with and tossed it in a neat arch into a trash can. “You were there too, sometimes,” he said quietly.

“Yeah? What use did you have of a Big Bad in that brain of yours?”

Xander looked at the beach and was disappointed to find the bucket half buried in the sand and unable to dance about. “When I was fighting, or learning to fight, I’d try to remember your style.”

“Like you could ever have style like mine,” Spike play scoffed.

“No. I could never fight like a vampire. But you do have confidence, Spike. You lead with your bluster and balls and I admire that.”

Spike tilted his head and met Xander’s steady gaze. He had always acted like everyone should admire him, but found himself surprised and very flattered when he learned someone really did. “Really, Xander?”

“Really.” Xander looked away, ducking his head. “And some nights when I was alone… I would imagine we were watching TV or you were tied to the chair nearby and snarking at me.”

“Like me tied to the chair, did you?”

“It was a way to explain why you weren’t…” Xander trailed off, catching that he'd almost remarked about wanting Spike in his bed, and regretting he didn’t have the bottle to fiddle with.

Spike wanted to snark and tease, say something about joining him in bed, but held back. “Why I wasn’t making noise in the kitchen and keeping you awake?”

“Yeah… Like you’d do to annoy me.”

They sat quietly together, watching the surf as the moon rose higher. Finally Xander sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Thank you, Spike. you’ve put things in perspective.”

Spike shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

Xander searched out the bucket and could only see the handle flipping back and forth in the tide. “I love the ocean. I can control my dreams, did you now that?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I learned how to keep sane. I like to dream I can breathe under water. I love to dive deep and look up at the sunlight shining through the water. I love how the water feels rushing over my naked body as I swim.”

“Oh, yeah. That rocks.”

“You’ve dreamed that?”

“Done it, Mate. Only without the sunlight.”

“Oh.” They sat and listened to the ocean pound for a while. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I’m jealous of a vampire.”

“Hey, there’s a lot to be jealous of.”

“I know, long life, strength, blah, blah.”

“I mean, in me there’s a lot to be jealous of. Everyone wants to be the Spike.”

Xander snickered. “Yeah, right.”

“’s true!”

Xander smiled and it turned into a yawn. “Can we go back and see if Gunn left us any cookies?”

“Sure.”

Xander hopped off the table and instead of heading to the road as Spike expected, he went down to the beach. He dug the kid’s bucket out of the sand, rinsed it off, and set it on the steps that climbed the dune.

Spike smiled at the big hearted man who even rescued toys.


Thirteen

They were silent on the walk home. Spike easily kept up with the ground-eating pace Xander set. Occasionally, the man would kick a rock that the moon highlighted on the smooth road.

When they reached the porch, Spike pulled a key from his pocket. “We need to get you one made,” he said as he unlocked the door.

Xander stopped him from opening the door with a hand on his arm. “Spike. Do you want…” He dropped his hand. “Never mind.”

“What, Xander?”

“I’m… still a bit wired. Would you want to watch some TV with me?”

“There’s nothing on this late, but Nibblet picked out some good shows.”

“Yeah? Like what?” Xander was surprised how relieved he felt.

Spike opened the door and ushered Xander in. “Did you ever see ‘Firefly?’”

They parted ways at the second floor landing so Xander could clean up and Spike change out of his jeans into his lounging pants. When he stepped out into the hall, the door to Willow’s room opened, and she poked her head out.

“Spike?” she asked quietly.

“Yeah, Red. It’s me.” He crossed to where she stood in the open door, clutching her bath robe closed. Spike could smell the musk of sex that mingled her scent with her husband’s.

“I heard some of what he said… How is he?” she asked quietly.

“He’ll heal. He went through a lot of shit that would have destroyed a lesser man. I’m still not sure how he remained unbroken.”

“Okay. You need anything?”

“Not now. We need to make him his own key.”

“Of course. I’ll do it tomorrow. Thanks, Spike. Good night.”

“Night, Red.”

Spike let himself into Xander’s room and found Xander standing nude in the middle of the room, toweling off his hair. Spike’s eye was drawn to a silvered scar high on the inside of his left thigh next to where his furred balls hung.

“See something you like?” Xander asked, peeking out from under his towel.

Spike shrugged and turned his attention to the stack of DVD’s by the television. “Here’s the show.” Spike put aside the thought of a bite scar there and what it might mean.

Xander paused. What was Spike looking at? He glanced down and saw the scar he tried not to think about. A pang went through him. “Spike,” Xander said close beside his friend. “It was…”

“Something you’ll tell me about if and when you want to.”

“Yeah… sometime. So, what’s so special about this show?”

They spent a pleasant couple of hours watching the crew of Serenity until Xander nodded off. Spike watched the grimaces that flickered across Xander’s features as he slept with sadness. Long ago in the basement of doom the boy had more often smiled in his sleep. Quietly, he pulled the blanket up to cover him and turned off the show before leaving the room.

+++

Xander awoke abruptly and to the same feeling of loss. This time, he knew what he sought. He thought he had asked Spike to stay, but he guessed the vampire had no interest. He dressed and made his way downstairs.

“Good morning, Xander!” Midra cheerily greeting him in the kitchen.

“Morning. What’s up today?”

“Waffles if you want.”

“Waffles? Damn, it’s too bad Gunn met you first.”

Midra laughed. “We were meant to be. All the fates say so.”

“You’re very lucky, both of you.”

“I did a reading of the bones. You won’t be lonely for always,” Midra said as she poured waffle mix in a bowl.

Xander had learned a lot in his time in Africa and did not dismiss her words. “Really? What’s she look like?”

“Ah! You know they don’ work like that. Just keep your mind and eyes open.”

“Yes, Ma’am.”

“Don’t you disrespect me, boy!” She said with a smile.

Xander held up his hands in surrender. “Never. I swear.” He watched her deftly mix the batter. “It’s comforting. The thought there’s someone for me.”

“There is.”

“Where is everybody today?”

Dawn and Willow went to run errands. Oz went toward the city. Gunn’s in the office. I think Spike’s still in the garage.”

“In the garage?”

“He takes spells of working on that bike of his. He was out there when I went to get something from the car at dawn.”

Xander wolfed down the hot waffles and rewarded Midra with a quick hug. “Want me to help clean up?”

“You go do whatever calls you to do.” She smiled after him as he headed out he back door toward the garage.

Xander pushed open the garage door to the cool open area. Two of the cars were gone and the sound of a ratchet came from behind Spike’s car. Louis Armstrong played quietly on a radio. “Hello?”

“Over here.”

Spike sat on a milk crate bolting the frame together. Xander smirked at the normally tidy vampire who was now grease-smudged. “Nice bike.”

“Will be. You should have seen her when I got her. She was covered in rust and vines.” Spike patted a fender fondly.

“What is it? It’s old, isn’t it?”

“She’s a 1941 Indian Chief. I’ve had a bitch of a time finding some parts. Fortunately, Gunn is as wicked a blacksmith as he is a lawyer. He reproduced that fender beside you from looking at the rusted remains of the original and pictures off the net.”

“Sweet.” Xander pulled a crate up beside Spike’s and reached out to steady the part Spike was working on.

“Thanks, mate.”

Xander watched him work for a while, admiring Spike’s skillful touch. “Midra said you’ve been out here for a while.’

“After you went to sleep, I was still wired. When there’s no Slayers upstairs, I like to come out here and work. I don’t have to sleep much.”

Xander handed Spike a screwdriver when he pointed at it. “When I was first captive, sleeping was all I wanted to do.” Spike nodded, letting Xander tell his story as he wished. “Of course, that was a two edged sword.”

As he watched Spike work with tools and grease, he let his story continue to pour out:

The truck stopped at dusk and the short figure reappeared. Again, the world went dark.

He woke up an unknown time later. Slowly, he opened his eye and looked around. He was on the floor a cave and some thirty other people were crammed in with him. “You’re awake. That’s something,” came a voice from beside him.

“Yeah,” Xander slowly sat up and looked at the woman who held a little boy on her lap. “Something. How long have I been out?”

“I don’t know. We woke up in here, too. And we all have jewelry.” She held up her hands to display iron bands around each wrist.

Xander wore a matching pair. “Damn. Slavers.”

“I’m Sarah. This is my boy, Jason.”

“Xander Harris.”

No one knew anything about where they were or how they’d come to be there. Everyone had a similar story to his. Capture, then awakening in the cave with wrist bands. Their belongings and some of their clothing was gone, along with all shoes and jewelry.

After a couple of hours, a blue-skinned demon showed up and instructed them in poor English how to behave in order to get food. Of course there were those who protested and shouted at the demon. More than a few panicked, not believing what they saw. Damn it, he was hungry. Xander stood up, brushed off his hands and went to stand where he’d been instructed.

Finally, others fell in line behind him and calmed the rest. The demon met his eye and nodded sharply once. Xander knew he’d done right. They all got a bowl of questionable content. Xander gave it a sniff and determined it to be better than a lot of the things he’d had to eat in the last year. He found a corner to sit and eat. Nothing more happened, and eventually he curled up to sleep, accompanied by the sounds of crying and raging.

The next day after his capture, the demons came into the holding pen. He’d been doing his best to comfort the others and help tend the wounded. The iron bands around his wrists with chafed and hurt. His body ached from sleeping on the stone floor.

“The Fyarl demons came back. As much as I wanted it to be true, I knew none of them were a middle aged Watcher. They started separating the men from the women. I don’t know what came over me, but I had to step in when they went to take Jason from Sarah.”

Spike knew. He knew the white hat impulses in this man could not be squashed.

“Leave them alone!” Part of him knew he could not change things, but a bigger part couldn’t just let this happen. Xander shoved the demon who was pulling the screaming child’s arm. The beast turned to him and made a gurgling noise like he was about to spit. Xander remembered what he’d read about their hardening mucus and ducked out of the way. He was able to get another good kick in before a second one grabbed his arms. He found himself pulled aside along with three big men.

“Big bullies!” Xander taunted. “Can’t fight me fair and square!”

“What are you doing? Shut up!” The man in a once-nice business suit told him.

“Unless you got a silver dagger, I’ve got nothing to fight with but words.”

“You know what these things are?”

“Fyarl demons. Silver kills them.”

“Fat lot of good that does us.”

“Tell me about it.”

He and three other healthy looking men were taken into a little room and left alone for several hours. Xander demanded they all turn out their pockets and searched for anything that might help them escape. Apart from a roll of Tums, a rubber band, and a five dollar bill, they had been picked clean. If he had been Spock he could have made a phaser beam and saved them. Xander set to examining the bars and the bands instead. This place had been there many years, and he could find no clear flaw, but he looked over and over the joins.

“Give up! You’re driving me nuts!” The man in a Budweiser t-shirt said after a while.

“Nope. Not gonna. I’ve been in tough situations before. True, Buffy always bailed me out, and sometimes Willow. Well, once it was Spike, but anyway, I’m alive, I’m not giving up.” He watched others from the main cell being dragged past, screaming. At least two came back being carried. They were pale, limp, and bleeding from their necks.

“They got a vampire here somewhere, guys.”

“What the hell do you know?” Budweiser got to his feet and loomed over Xander.

“I grew up with them. Get any kind of wood through their heart, set them on fire, or decapitate them and they’re dead.”

“Yeah, right. And If I clap real loud a fairy will get his wings!”

Xander shrugged. “Then you explain that.”

A third woman was carried past, her lulling neck torn open.

Budweiser blanched and sat back down.

One by one Xander’s forced companions were taken from the cell. Only Mr. Budweiser was seen again. As he was led past, the big man turned wide eyes to Xander. “God damnit, you were right,” he muttered.

Then it was Xander’s turn. He stood and stepped out as the green demon came for him. “Right. My turn at an interview. So what’s the big boss like? What’s his favorite sport?” The demon snarled at him in a manner that clearly translated as “shut up.” “Golf, huh?”

He was taken down a long rough tunnel and to a heavy door set in the stone. The goon leading him knocked once before opening the door and shoving him in.

Xander gained his balance and looked around as the door closed behind him. The stone walls were covered with a bright mix of cloth hangings and tapestries. The floor was layered with rugs. It appeared to be an attempt to make the room warm, but instead Xander felt he’d been eaten by a giant who had been chewing on bits of string. The only furnishings were a heavy table with a padded chair by it near the door and a massive carved chair that could only be a throne. There were a few books, papers, and a cup of writing implements on the table.

Xander looked wearily around. As nice as the carpet felt to his feet and as inviting as the chair was, he remained standing. There was no way he was here alone. “Hello? You placed an ad for a doughnut boy?”

If he hadn’t been expecting it, the sudden appearance of his host would have startled him. Xander stood steady and looked over the man before him. He was much taller than Xander, maybe by four inches. His skin was so dark as to reflect back the lamp light. His hair hung in heavy dreadlocks to his waist and jewels winked in the length. He wore the bright red, heavily detailed robes of a chief. His brown eyes were intelligent.

Xander nodded to himself. This had to be the vampire. “I’m afraid I’ve misplaced my resume. Maybe I can get my staff to fax one over,” he quipped.

“What need would I have of seeing the resume of a… doughnut boy?” His voice was as deep and rich as the colors in his robes. He spoke in clear, clipped English that reminded him of Giles.

“It’s not just doughnuts, you see. I can serve beer, deliver pizzas.” He pointed and winked. “And I once made a fair amount of money dancing, but we won’t speak of that.”

Xander tried to read the man before him but it was impossible. What the hell. He was probably going to be killed soon anyway. He screwed his most winning grin in place and waited.

Just when he was readying a new line of quippage, the man spoke. “You are not as afraid as others.”

Xander shrugged. “I’ve been around, seen a lot.”

“But not this!” Suddenly the man was in game face and had raised his arms to make himself look even taller.

Xander grabbed up a pencil from the cup. “Actually, I have. And that ‘make myself look big’ stuff only works with kittens.”

The vampire hesitated, and Xander pressed on. “Yeah , that’s right, I know all about vampires! I’ve had William the Bloody do my laundry and Angelus buy me a beer!”

+++

“I never did your laundry.” Spike cut into his story.

“It was bluster, Spike. There was no getting out of there anyway.”

“And it was Angel bought you a beer, not Angelus.” As much as Spike admired Xander’s strength in his story, he couldn’t let these slights pass. He saw some of the growing tension drop from Xander’s shoulders and considered his interruption a success.

“Anyway…”

+++

The vampire scoffed. “What do you know of the Scourge of Europe?”

“Plenty. Angel’s hair sticks up and Spike likes cereal in his blood.”

The creature’s arms dropped. “Spike? The warrior who won his soul?”

“Oh yeah. That Spike. The Big Bad himself. Doing my laundry.”

+++

“He’d heard of me?” Spike searched his mind for who this mysterious vamp could be.

Xander nodded. “You’re quite respected down there. Legend really. You’re the only demon to win back his soul and survive longer than a week afterwards in over two hundred years. Not that many made it out of the cave, even.”

“You’re shitting me!" Spike couldn't believe it. A legend? For something other than bloodshed? Amazing.

“Spike, let me tell the story.”

+++

The vampire’s features smoothed back to human. “Have a seat.”

“What? I drop names and suddenly I’m in the in crowd?”

“There have been rumors about the fall of the Scourge. I wonder if perhaps you do know something.”


Fourteen

Spike interrupted Xander’s tale. “Fall! Bloody never did! I’m still…”

“Spike!” Xander glared at the repeated interruption.

Spike held up his hands in surrender and let Xander tell his tale. Truth be told, he was mad at himself for interrupting now that he was getting the information he’d been wanting. If he read all the signs right, this vampire was Xander’s Anthony.

+++

Xander eyed the tall vampire and weighed his options, which were to make the vampire mad by saying no or to have a seat and maybe learn something. Maybe this guy could get him free, though Xander doubted that.

“What’s in it for me? You drain me of information then drain me of blood?”

“Food? Drink? You entertain me, human. That’s hard to do these days.”

Xander shrugged. He’d played Zeppo for worse reasons than to save his life. While he wanted to leave that behind, it was a useful persona to keep around. Besides, he really was hungry.

+++

“So he had food brought in and we talked for hours.”

“Talked? About what?”

“America. California. How I knew about vampires. The Slayer. Stuff like that.”

Spike realized he’d been leaning forward, eager to hear Xander’s story, and made himself lean back. “Oh. Of course.”

Xander laughed. “And about you. Nothing bad.” Spike gave him a doubtful look. “Really. He was keen to know about your soul and I told him about your sacrifice to save the world.”

“Oh. Well then.” Spike found himself glad to learn the boy had not thought bad of him for some time. “What happened after that? He obviously didn’t eat you.”

“He called a guard, said some things to him, and I was taken to a cell by myself with a cot and a blanket. I slept very well that night.”

“Huh.” Spike was dying to know more, but didn’t dare push. He picked up a tattered box and started taking out pieces of the motor.

Time passed as they worked quietly on the bike, with Spike laying out the parts and Xander handing him tools. “My training started the next day. To fight. There was a huge natural cavern where the floor had been leveled and lights installed. There was a big sandy area and several smaller rings. Basically, they would shove two of us captives in a ring and watch to see who had better skills. I got pretty beat up the first few times until I managed to convince the other men we needed to work together.”

“Survival of the fittest approach? That never works except in death matches.”

“I know,” Xander said quietly.

“Peaches got drawn into one of those in L.A. once. I wish I could have watched…”

“Angel’s a good fighter. I realize how good now.”

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Spike bit down a pang of loss as he remembered what it was like to fight along side of Angelus.

“So we’d train one another. There were ten of us.” Spike took mental notes of the names Xander listed and their descriptions. “We were never allowed to talk or socialize. We’d fight, then we’d be separated. I came to realize I was getting special treatment.”

“How’s that?”

“I had a cell to myself, the rest of them had a dorm type room. They asked me why and I had no clue. Actually, I didn’t find it all that special. After I got used to the constant echoes of people crying and screaming, the chill of the cave, the lack of baths, the crappy food, and the exhaustion of training, I was damned lonely and bored.”

Spike nodded. He knew isolation and boredom. Memories of being locked away for a month and barely fed by Angelus, and his weeks at the Initiative, bubbled to the top.

“I was lucky. The more things I saw, Spike, the luckier I knew I was.” Spike nodded, cleaning an already clean valve. “Some people were used as human ponies. They had to pull the feeding and cleaning carts around. Some were kept as pets. Once in a while I saw the fat cat who ran the place, or so I assumed he was.”

Spike looked up from his work. “What’s he look like?”

“He’s a big man, dark skinned, large nose, goatee. He had a gold ring with a stone in it on every finger. And he has a tattoo of some kind of glyph on the side of his neck. He always had a pretty woman on a leash with him.” Xander’s voice was hard. “Each one had bruises.”

With a start, Spike realized he’d seen this man once on the ship. At the time he’d assumed he was another buyer. “That’s good news, Xander. I’ve seen that pompous ass. This means he travels on that ship once in a while and we can get to him.”

Xander nodded, his face grim. “Good. I want a piece of him.”

“Every scrap of information brings us one step closer.”

Spike fitted a piston into the body of the motor and tested its movement. Xander slowly clicked a ratchet wrench around and around. Normally, Spike would have taken it from him or snapped to stop the annoying sound, but he let Xander be. Spike noticed Xander seemed to cope better when he had something to fiddle with.

Xander finally broke the silence. “Days were pretty routine. Sleep, eat, train, sit. Every eight days they’d take me to a cavern with a hot springs and hole high in the ceiling. I could wash and stand in the sun for a while.” Xander sighed. “I was about to go mad.”

“No one to talk to,” Spike sympathized.

“That is a favorite thing of theirs, not allowing talking among the prisoners. After maybe four months of being trained, they brought a woman to my cell. I guess they liked how I was progressing. I… held her. Spike, it was so good to just have non-violent contact with someone.” Xander blushed. “She wanted to do more… and I didn’t stop her.”

“Xander, there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, it may have gotten her in trouble if you hadn’t.”

Xander nodded. “So I learned later. But I did get her in trouble. I started to talk to her. To babble like I do. She pushed out of bed and kept shaking her head no. I didn’t understand. I just wanted to... talk to somebody.” Xander dropped the wrench and put his face in his hands. “The guard came and dragged her out of there. ‘No talking!’ he said and hit her. Hard. I don’t know why they didn’t hurt me. I was the one talking.”

“You were more valuable. And I bet you learned the lesson.”

“I did. God, I did.” Xander straightened, picked up a pickle jar of nuts, and started running his fingers through it. “For maybe a month my routine didn’t change. Sleep, eat, train, sit. Then it suddenly did. It was Bud who first noticed Anthony watching us.”

“Anthony?”

“The vampire I’d met. Everyone was terrified of him. There were… balconies over the arena. Once in a while I’d see people, demons up there, but after a while I stopped looking. When Bud pointed him out, he stepped out of the shadow and looked me straight in the eye before leaving the balcony. The next day, I found myself alone in the ring. Then the vampire joined me.”

+++

The tall vampire appeared at the edge of the area with two Fyarl demons flanking him. Xander gripped his dull-ended pike and met his gaze levelly. Without a word, the vampire nodded, untied his belt and let his flowing red caftan fall. He picked up a matching pike as he stepped into the ring.

“What’s this? I thought auditions were last week.” Xander taunted.

The vampire said nothing, but paused ten feet in front of Xander and bowed.

“No need to be formal,” Xander muttered, but returned the bow. Fortunately, he’d seen enough martial arts movies to expect the attack that immediately followed.

He brought his staff up and blocked the blow. He let the vampire feel him out before making a move of his own. His opponent easily jumped aside of the jab at his chest, but did so with a twist of a smile. Five more minutes of feints and attacks and Xander’s mystery guest backed off and bowed again. Wearily, Xander did the same and allowed himself to relax a bit to match the vampire’s stance.

“You fight with enthusiasm, human,” he said in his clipped English.

“Thanks. It comes from not wanting to be killed. I’ve found that to be a good motto to live by.”

The vampire chuckled. “I, too, have found that a good idea. I invite you to my quarters this evening.”

“Let me check my schedule.” Xander looked upwards for a second. “8 o’clock; eat slop. 8:30 to 9:00: stare at empty bowl. Yeah. I can fit you in.”

“Good. You will be sent for. And I will see if I can do better than… slop.”

+++

Xander stood up and stretched. He wandered over to the sleek sports car and ran a hand over it’s curved fender. “You’ll have to take me for a ride some time.”

“Sure, sure. Anytime.”

“Hey! It’s Dawn’s birthday next week. I need to go shopping.”

“Xander! What happened?”

“Humm?” Xander asked as if he didn’t know why Spike had been polishing the same clean piece for twenty minutes.

“With the meeting!”

“Oh, that.” Xander poked his head in the car’s window and looked at the dashboard. “Will you let me drive? Of course, I’ve not driven anything in five or six years. I’d be better off starting in something slower.”

“Xander! The story?”

“Well, I was sent for. I had a very good meal. We talked about what I’d seen in my travels, American food, and he asked about my family.”

“Did he offer you a fine cigar and a glass of wine after that?” Spike asked, feeling Xander’s story was anti-climatic.

“No, even more dramatic.”

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t hit on you did he?”

Xander laughed at the surprisingly warm rush he got at the glimpse of jealousy from Spike. “No. Not that night. He requested to me allow him to personally train me.”

“Train… For the games?”

“Yeah.” Xander swallowed. “He told me his position was such he was allowed to… keep a human or two. He’d not had one in a while and said that if I could learn enough to keep myself alive I’d live in reasonable comfort.”

+++

“Wait. Me? The Zeppo fight for my life? Mister, I can barely keep from tripping over myself most mornings.”

“You have told me yourself you fought by the Slayer’s side. You have watched the Scourge in action. You have…what word did you use… dusted many of my kind and faced a myriad of demons.” Xander started to protest, wondering how deep he’d gotten himself. “The war wound you bear speaks of your courage. And you lasted a year in the roughest parts of Africa with no ill befalling you until your capture.”

“It’s all true to some degree, yeah.” Xander tiredly rubbed the scar over his empty eye socket.

The vampire steepled his long fingered hands with their scarred prominent knuckles before him. “Consider the alternative, Xander.”

“Wha… what is it?”

“I throw you back into the pool of captives and you fight your own way up, or die in the trying. The luxury you enjoy of a cell to yourself is by my request.”

Tthanks.” Xander bit his lip and toyed with an apple core. Really, this guy didn’t seem so bad. He was intelligent and well placed. “Um…”

“What?” the vampire asked, amused.

“When Spike would talk of keeping a human, he always sneered and implied it was normally for… um….”

“Sexual reasons?”

“Yeah. That.”

+++

Spike burst out laughing. “The birds, maybe.”

“You said I was a nummy treat!”

“To eat! If I said anything else it was to watch you squirm.”

Xander sighed and rolled his eyes. “Anyway.”

+++

“Am I that unbecoming?”

Xander couldn’t look at his host. Truth be told he was intrigued by his tall, lean build, strong features, and graceful way of moving. But he knew it was probably something all old vampires had in common. “No. It’s that… How old are you?”

“Seventy five man and vampire. I’ve been here forty years.”

“Oh, well. That’s respectable.”

“Too big an age difference?” he asked dryly with what Xander was coming to recognize as amusement.

“No. It’s just that I like women.”

“I see. Well, to put you off the hook, it would not be a requirement. However, being under my care would protect you from the attentions of others.”

“You put it that way…” Xander looked him in the eye, meeting the deep brown steadily with his own one good eye. “Yeah. I want to live. I’ll learn to fight and I’ll be what I need to be a winner. I want to someday get out of here and kill the son of a bitch who runs this place.”

The vampire laughed and leaned forward. “My dear human, how do you know I’m not the son of a bitch who runs this place?”

Xander froze, his blood running cold. “Um. You said you were allowed to keep a human?” he said tentatively, hoping to save his ass.

“I could have been lying.”

“Cause, yeah, vampires are evil and they do that.”

The vampire sighed. “Alas, I am not the son of a bitch who runs this place. If I were, my accommodations would be much more roomy than this.” Abruptly, he stood. “Is there any small boon I can grant you to show my good will?”

“Maybe… something to read?”

The vampire nodded and went to a chest that sat to one side. “Romance? Mystery? Adventure?”

Xander couldn’t help it and allowed himself to be drawn to the trove. A stack of well-worn paperbacks lay within. Most were modern. “Um… I’ve heard of Clive Cussler.”

The vampire picked up the silver paperback with a sunken ship on the cover and handed it to Xander. “I am allowed first choice of the…pickings.”

Xander looked for a full minute at the treasure before the meaning of the vampire’s words sunk in. “Pickings. From the captives’ belongings.” he said quietly.

“From the captives,” the vampire nodded. “Many of those who get first pick go for the gems and clothing. I like the books.”

Xander held the book respectfully, knowing it once belonged to a hapless traveler like himself. “Yeah. Thanks.”

The vampire closed the chest and stood. “I will have you escorted back to your bed. We will start training tomorrow.”

Xander sagged, not knowing exactly where life was taking him, and followed the vampire to the door. “Thanks.”

The vampire paused with his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder. “Thank you, for tonight’s company if nothing else. I live a dull existence, Xander,” he said softly, then straightened. “Just remember, you are now my property.” He moved to open the door.

“Excuse me, who do I belong to?”

“Forgive my seldom-used manners. You are property of…” he spoke a series of clicks and glottal sounds Xander recognized as some African dialect. “Also known as Anthony, sired by Lord Markus DeAmeron.”

+++

“Xander, are you sure you said DeAmeron?”

“Positive.”

Spike gave a low whistle. “He was older than Angel by a bit. British aristocrat by all accounts. Your new pal is of royal blood.”

Xander hung his head. “Was, Spike. Was.”

“I’m sorry, mate.”

“It’s okay.” Xander ran a hand over his face. “Anyway, he kept his promise. Starting the next day he trained me. I was provided with some luxuries including more books to read and better food. I knew I had it lucky. Well, as lucky as a captive slave could be.”


Fifteen

“I didn’t have much contact with the other men after that. Only when Anthony couldn’t train with me because of other business or if he wanted me to practice against a human. I forget why, but one day he took me with him as he went to their cell. Four men shared a cell and they didn’t have many luxuries.” Xander chewed the side of a nail. “They looked at me with hatred, Spike. I had done my best make things better when we worked together. It weighed on me.

“So after three months, I requested an audience with Anthony.”

“Didn’t you talk much?” Spike asked as he fiddled with the motor. “You seemed all chatty at first.”

“No. Up to that point we had just talked twice. He had me escorted to his quarters and fed me again.”

+++

Xander was uneasy being alone with this powerful vampire again, but the food looked too good to pass up. Once Anthony motioned for him to eat, he sat with steepled fingers and watched Xander eat with unmatched enthusiasm. Half way through the meal, he interrupted Xander’s happy food thoughts. “So, Xander. What is it you wish to speak to me about?”

“Oh,” Xander swallowed his mouthful and wiped his mouth. “Sorry. It’s just this is so much better than what I normally get.”

Anthony eyed the simple meal of fresh fruits, a slim cut of meat, and a heel of bread. “I do not pay attention to what the fighters eat.”

“That’s kind of my point. If I’m out of line, I’ll just take my banana and leave.” Xander picked up the fruit in question. “That is, if I’m allowed to take the banana.”

“I have no need of human food.”

Relieved, Xander sat the banana back on the tray and took a small bite of the meat. “I understand that. Angel never ate anything. Oddly enough, Spike did. He liked to put Wheetabix in his blood.” Seeing Anthony’s raised eyebrow, Xander cleared his throat. “So. To my point. We are in hell.” Xander paused to gauge the vampire’s reaction. When he only nodded, Xander continued. “We’ve all been kidnapped. Taken from family and friends. Put in holes in the ground and fed things the demons tending us apparently do not want. I know you may not care and I know you’re not the one in charge. I’ve figured out a bit how things flow around here, but maybe you can do something.”

“What have you figured out about ‘the flow’ around here?” Anthony asked.

Xander bit off some bread and spoke around it. “People come in, but they don’t all stay. I believe you see them all and determine who goes where.” Anthony nodded. “I think this is the clearing house. And you keep those you judge will have a fighting chance in the ring.”

Anthony nodded again. “You are very observant.”

“Thanks. And… I know you’ve provided a bit better for me. The zoo keepers are afraid of you, so they do what you say. Thanks for that. And the books. I appreciate what a privilege it is to be in a room by myself, but without the books you’ve loaned me, I’d be crazy by now.” Another nod and perhaps a quirk of a smile from Anthony. “So if the guys could have a little more consideration they - we may fight better. All hope of escape has been thrashed out of us after seeing someone slowly killed for trying.” Xander suppressed a shudder at the memory of seeing the vampire before him slowly disembowel a man who had made it to the surface with his bare hands. “Hey, heck of a technique you’ve got there.”

“You have nothing to fear from me, Xander.”

Xander met his gaze levelly. “Yes, I do. No disrespect, but I don’t know you from the devil. As soon as I stop amusing you or get badly hurt, you’re just as likely to eat me. I don’t know how many… other kinds of slaves are here, but you seem to have say over the fighters.”

“You are correct.”

“Make the keepers give us our due. Give us... I don’t know, warmer blankets. Food that isn’t half rotten some nights. Little things. If we can maybe earn them somehow.”

Anthony stared at the bold human who dare invade his personal space and demand things. And he felt something solid within him yield.

“What?” Xander said quietly, not daring to even eat.

“I am thinking about what you have said. You may finish your meal.”

“I don’t know if I can.”

Anthony dropped his hands to his lap and smiled. “Let me ease your mind and tell you I am not going to kill you for your presumptions.”

“Okay. Good then,” Xander said and went back to eating, still uneasy about the eyes upon him. When Anthony abruptly stood, he couldn’t help but tense.

The vampire paced away from him and stood gazing at a watercolor of the English country side that hung on one cloth draped wall. “I should thank you, Xander. You make me realize I’ve been in a rut for… I’m not sure how long. I will look into what you say.”

“Thank you,” Xander said, feeling some optimism for the first time in months. He ate the coveted unbruised, ripe banana last. He was starting to worry about his host when he finally turned away from the landscape and sat again in the throne-like chair.

“You may wonder why I am here.” Xander cautiously nodded. “I was captured almost half a century ago. I cannot leave because I have been cursed; linked to this place. Any time I approach any of the exits I find myself back here. In this room.”

+++

“Damn,” Spike said. “That’s an evil curse.”

“Yeah, it would be,” Xander replied.

“When I was a ghost I could go as for as the L.A. city limits and I’d find myself right back in the Wolfram & Hart building. I couldn’t touch, taste, feel, smell or run away. I can’t image having to be underground for that long.”

“Wow. I didn’t know you were a ghost.”

“I’ll tell you about it some time” Spike waved away Xander’s attention. “What did he say?”

++++

“I have a position here which you have rather accurately summed up. I’m the one who chooses the showers or the gas. Left or right. Life or death. I rebelled at first, then they cursed me. I had no reason to struggle. You are the first being to sit and talk to me in far too long. You are correct in all you say. I will do what I can for those around me.”

Xander just stared at the vampire for so long he stood and approached him.

“Sorry!” Xander said. “I… I didn’t expect an answer that quick.”

“Were you hoping to negotiate over more meals?”

Xander shrugged and played with his napkin. “Beats staring at he wall.”

Anthony chuckled and went to the chest. He pulled out a new paperback and set it on the table by Xander’s elbow. “This is the sequel to the last one. Perhaps once you’ve read it, we can discuss its strengths and weaknesses.”

“Okay. I've never been in a book club before.”

Anthony went to the door and opened it. “Have a good sleep, Xander. We will speak soon.”

+++

“After that things did get better. Slowly, but they got better. For all of us fighters.” Xander twirled a wrench on his finger.

“That’s good, Xander. You did good.” Spike wondered about his twinge of jealousy at the thought of Xander spending so much time with this unknown vamp. The suspicion of what their relationship became bothered him. He turned his attention fully to the bike and tried to be casual about getting the information he wanted.

“Yeah, I made the cages a little better padded.”

“What about your new friend? Did you chat about books?”

“We did. It started out that we would talk about the books we read. Then, the went on to other things,” he said, one of his hands went up to wrap around the pearl at his throat.

Spike attached a wire, trying to concentrate on getting it right. “What next, poetry?”

Xander chuckled. “Actually, yeah. I tell you, if my teacher’s had used some of those poems in class, I wouldn’t have flunked English.”

“Let me guess. John Donne?”

“How did you know?”

“To His Mistress Going to Bed, right?”

“Yes!”

“Figures it would take poems about women undressing to get you to read.”

“Spike! I read a lot!” Xander sat up straight.

“Not while I lived with you.”

“Because I had a life, and friends, television and wonderful things like that! I read the whole time I was in Africa.” Xander frowned at the stings.

“And then you joined a private book club.”

“Anthony kept me sane, Spike! We talked about all kinds of things!”

“Dinner, poetry, how long before he got in your pants?” the minute he said it, Spike wished he could call it back. He turned to Xander to find his friend’s eye wide. “Xander, I…”

Xander’s face darkened, he stood up, and threw down the wrench. “You don’t know a thing, Spike. Not. A. God. Damned thing.” He turned and ran for the door.

Cursing under his breath, Spike scrambled to his feet, scattering bike parts, and ran after Xander. “Wait! Xander, I’m sorry!” He stopped short of the bright sunshine outside the door. “Come back!” He watched, trapped, as Xander ran away up the path and disappeared into the woods.

With a snarl, Spike whirled and threw the screw driver he still clutched across the room. It imbedded itself in a wooden stud and the plastic handle shattered. Disgusted with himself, Spike put his back to the wall and slid down to sit in the cold floor.

+++

Xander ran. He let his feet take him up the path to the overlook. He didn’t see the trees blurring past. When he reached the table, his breath was burning in his lungs. He sat on the bench, dug his hands into his long hair and let it go.

It had been hard to think about Anthony so much. Hard to remember and talk about those early days. He thought the one person who would understand would have been Spike.

+++

Half an hour later, Oz stepped into the garage carrying a tray. He looked down at Spike who still sat by the door. “Spike? I brought lunch for you and Xander. But, no Xander.”

Spike sighed and pulled himself up. “I put my foot in it, Oz.” He crossed the garage and leaned against the tool chest.

The slim redhead followed him and sat the tray on top of the chest. He sat down on the low stool Xander had vacated. “That happens.”

“That’s the problem. It shouldn’t. Not with me. He trusts me, Oz. Hell, he even hired me to hear him out. He was opening up about someone he cared for and I…” Spike flung himself away from the tools, desperately wanting to destroy something. His hands clenched and unclenched.

Oz pointed at a cardboard box by the door. “You know, that box over there looks mighty helpless.” Spike went gameface, and attacked the box. He kicked it, pummeled it, and ripped at the cloth that soon spilled out. When the box was reduced to something not even close to square and the clothing inside ripped to shreds, Spike finally stopped.

He crossed back to the tool chest and sat down on the floor with is back to it and closed his eyes. “What did I just destroy and which female will scream at me for it?”

“Old clothes destined for the thrift store. I’ll tell Willow I took it into town.”

“Thanks, mate.”

“Should I go after him?”

“No,” Spike sighed. “I should. Damned sun.”

“He’ll listen, I’m sure.”

“I’m not, Oz. He’s so fragile right now. I let myself get… I didn’t watch what I said.”

“He’ll forgive you.”

“I hope so, Oz. I hope so.”


Sixteen

Three hours later, after Spike had gone through the tunnels to the barn, beat up a punching bag for a while, come back, methodically cleaned up all signs of the great box massacre, and attempted to return to fixing up his motorcycle, he sensed someone behind him.

“Hey, Red,” he said without looking around.

The petite redhead looked at the untouched lunch tray with the sandwich still covered and the blood congealed in its mug, then sat down next to the vampire and watched him slowly turn a ratcheting socket wrench, making it click. “Still no Xander?” Spike shook his head. “Want to talk about it?”

Spike sighed and put down the wrench. “He was telling me about his time in the tunnels. He’s giving us some good information, too. I learned the bastard who runs the operation travels on the ship sometimes! That means he’s in our territory when he’s in California.” He looked up at Willow with an optimistic grin.

“Spike. You know what I mean. What went wrong?”

“Can’t throw you off, can I? He was opening up about... about someone he had made friends with.”

“Mrs. or Mr. Pearl?”

“Huh?”

“The pearl he wears. I know Xander. It has to mean something.”

“Yeah. The pearl.” Spike didn’t want to share any secrets Xander wanted to keep to himself. He berated himself again for his lack of caring. Damnit, he’d been learning about what he most wanted to know; the mysterious Anthony. “I don’t know why, but I… I let myself get distracted by a tricky bit on the bike and … I snarked when I shouldn’t have.”

Willow studied Spike’s profile, seeing the lines of distress on his brow. “Well, you’re evil, after all,” she joked.

Spike whipped his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed. “Not to him. Not to you.”

Willow smiled, slid to her knees next to Spike and put her arms around the slumped shoulders. “I know, Spike. I know. I’ve seen your soul, even before you had it officially reinstalled. He knows, too.”

Spike closed his eyes and allowed himself to accept some of Willow’s sweetness. “I hope so.”

Willow gave him a final squeeze and sat back on the stool. “Where did he go?”

“He took off into the woods. I’m sure he can take care of himself. The wards are working and I don’t think he’s fool enough to get himself lost.”

“Yep. Our boy’s all growed up!”

“He has, Red. He really has.” He ran his hands over his hair and looked to his friend again. “Can I admit something without damaging my reputation more?”

She smiled at him, “I’ll keep it to myself. Witchs’ promise.”

“You’re making that bit up, but I trust you as far as Oz.” He smiled a little at Willow’s pout. “I could see this Xander within the doughnut boy, long ago. A strength and courage he wasn’t aware of himself, and all the white hat qualities I mocked… I… I really admired.” Spike looked at the chrome frame of the bike where he should be reflected. “He’s always been a good man. And I’m still not sure how he kept his humor through it all, but I have to admit I’m glad.”

Willow suddenly saw something in Spike’s attitude that she wasn’t quite sure had been there before. Spike genuinely cared for Xander on more than a friendly level, and he didn’t know it himself. Maybe it was just his pleasure at having someone to take care of again. She bit her lip to keep from doing an Andrew impression and doing some mocking herself. Instead she said softly. “I agree, Spike. Xander was and is the best ever.”

Spike bobbed his head, sniffed, and picked up a couple of engine parts. “At this rate, I’ll have this baby together and can give him a ride when he comes back. If he’ll talk to me.”

“He’s pouted long enough. I’ll go get him.” She stood up. “I bet he’s at the overlook.”

“Red?”

“Yeah, Spike?”

“Take chocolate. You may have to bribe him.”

“I will. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”

She picked up the tray, but paused on the way out the door. A tiny scrap of blue fabric with a button on it lay just under the bumper of her car and the box she’d been after Oz to take to town for weeks was gone. She filed this away and took the tray back to the kitchen. She left it on the counter with a scrawled note of her destination, then hurriedly threw some fresh food and drinks into a backpack before setting off up the path.

+++

At the beginning of her hike, she fully expected to make the steep climb to the top, but when she reached the broken sign pointing to the gazebo, she heard the loud snap of a branch breaking. Cautiously, she turned up the weed-choked path to investigate.

She rounded a bend in the path to see Xander wrenching at a limb on the dead tree which lay partially on the broken gazebo. His broad, muscular back was covered with a sheen of sweat and his long braid was no longer neat. The limb gave way with a loud crack. Xander turned with his back to her to throw it on a growing pile when Willow spoke. “We have saws for that kind of work.” In an instant, his grip on the branch shifted to hold it like a club, and he whirled to face her with his feet braced. “Eep!” cried Willow.

Xander immediately relaxed and threw the branch aside. “Willow. I’m sorry. You startled me.”

She carefully picked her way toward the gazebo. “I guess I should be glad you weren’t piling rocks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay. I’ve lived around people who could break me long enough know I should whistle when I walk.”

Xander’s shoulders slumped. “Is that how you see me now, Willow? As someone who could break you?”

Willow dashed to her friend. “Oh, honey, no. I just mean the way you’re all shirtless, your hair’s wild and full of leaves, and Conan, and with the tree breaking…”

“It’s okay. Say… did you happen to bring food?” He poked her backpack.

“Yes. Come sit in the shade with me and we’ll see what I threw in here.” They settled down on a bench in the gazebo. As Xander guzzled a bottle of water, Willow looked around. “You think this place can be fixed up?”

“Sure. It will take a little while and I’ll have to hire a little muscle and maybe a bit of heavy equipment, but it can be done.” Xander opened a package of peanut butter crackers and shoved one in his mouth.

“I thought you’d be up at the overlook.”

Xander swallowed his mouthful. “I was. Then I got my head back on straight and realized I was hungry. I headed back, but couldn’t resist visiting Zeb again. I started cleaning up a few small branches and one thing led to another.”

“So you’ll take the job Oz offered you?”

“If you approve. From what I understand, you run the place.”

Willow snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m delighted to have you around, Xander.”

“I’m delighted to be back, Willow. I really am.”

She watched Xander bite deep into an apple. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”

Xander glanced at the long deep scratch on his forearm and shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

She was now looking him over with the trained eyes of one who has treated too many post-fight wounds. “But you’re covered in scratches and bruises!”

“They didn’t allow me to fight for a month before I was sold. They wanted me to be as pretty as possible so I’d bring a good price.” Xander took another big bite.

“Oh, Xander. I’m sorry.”

“You didn’t do it.”

He hadn’t mentioned Spike, so she dared go there. “Spike told me you’re giving us lots of information to take down the kingpin.”

“So he says. What else did he tell you?” Xander mumbled around his apple.

“Enough to know he still suffers from Footnmouth. He’s careless about pretty much everyone but himself. You should see him delight in making the Slayers cry. I tell you a couple of them would have dusted him if they hadn’t been using plastic stakes.”

“That would be fun to watch.”

“Xan, he knows what he did, even if he doesn’t know why. He’s back there beating himself up.”

“I thought his soul had pretty much settled in and he was over the whole evil gig. He’s been super nice to me.”

“Who, Spike? Well, yes and no. He’s been snarling at us to treat you nice.”

“Like you wouldn’t?”

“Xander… We do, we will. But he’s right in some ways, Xander. It’s all I can do to keep from grilling you about… about everything.”

Xander nodded and threw the apple core into the woods. “Like what? What did Spike say?” His hand went to the pearl and grasped it.

“He said nothing you may have told him in confidence, I swear. Just that he accidentally insulted someone you cared about.”

Xander nodded. “I told him about making the one friend I had down there and he turned it into something smarmy.”

“That’s just how he is. Haven’t you noticed? Whenever something hits him too close personally, he strikes out and pushes it away.”

Xander paused. “Why would Spike care if I had a friend? I’d think he’d be glad.”

Willow shrugged, not wanting to voice that she thought Spike was jealous. “Maybe he resents everything having to do with Africa.”

“Maybe. But Anthony was different. He kept me sane, Willow, he saved my life.”

Willow noted the name, nodded, and pulled a Hershey’s bar from the pack. “Spike told me to bribe you with chocolate.”

Xander laughed and took the brown wrapped candy. “I’m ripping limbs off a tree, what’s he up to?”

“He’s sulking in the garage and I suspect he murdered a box of clothing.”

“I guess he didn’t have a bottle to throw.”

“When Angel told him off, Spike actually destroyed a jeep.”

Xander almost choked on his chocolate. “A jeep? Was he driving? Was he hurt?”

“Nope. It was parked by the garage. It came with the place and was a fixer upper. He tore into it and ripped pieces off… It was a thing to see.”

“Wow.”

“I made him clean up every bit of it and buy me a new one. I won’t have grand scale tantrums on my turf.”

“What did he do then?”

“He disappeared for six months. I wasn’t sure we’d hear from him again.”

Xander unwrapped a piece of cheese and bit into it. “Where does he go when he’s not here?”

“Nobody knows. Sometimes he travels. There’s a voice mail number we can use to contact him and I think he has to check in with the council on a regular basis. We’ll get odd postcards in the mail sometimes. And the council sends him places.”

“Oh. You don’t think…” Xander straightened as if ready run and find Spike. Willow noted this, too.

Willow laid a hand on Xander’s arm. “He’s not going to leave until you tell him to or he’d be gone by now.”

“You think so?”

“Xander…” Willow hesitated. “Spike has never spent this much time around here before. A week here, a few days there. Never this long.”

Xander nodded. “I… I thought if I came back after dark, he’d be gone.”

“If he wanted to be gone, he would, Xander. He was sitting right next to his car with the special windows.”

“Oh. I forgot about that.” Xander cracked open the can of soda and took a big drink. “Damn that’s good. What’s for dinner?”

Willow laughed. “I don’t know. Let’s go back and we’ll find out.”

Xander threw a muscular arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I love you, Willow. I missed you so much.”

She slid her arm around him and hugged him back. “I love you, too, Xander. I never stopped looking for you when I could.” Then she pulled back a little. “Even if you do bleed on me.”

“I’m so sorry!” Horrified, Xander moved away from his friend.

“Panic much? No worries, Xan. One of the first spells I learned for Buffy takes blood out of clothes.”

“I’m not contagious or anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“AIDS. Other nastiness. What do you think modern scientists would think if they learned a bit of magic rock planted in the right place can fend off venereal diseases?” Xander rubbed the area between the base of his penis and leg.

“Honestly? I knew there was some residual magic around you, but it was protective, so I’ve not asked about it.”

“It hurt like fire for a week and it renders the bearer sterile, but... all in all, I’d rather be alive.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I ever wanted kids, anyway.”

“Did you have a say in the matter?”

“Yes. I had to earn the money for it.”

“Oh.” Her first reaction was to be a shocked that her friend would spend money to have sex, but then right on the heels of that reaction was the thought that Xander was smart. Willow didn’t know his story. She didn’t know if Xander had a say in the sex, either. She pulled on a brave little toaster face and smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

Xander knew his friend well enough to read what flitted over her face. It pained him to see her pity him. Suddenly, he realized Spike had been shielding him. Now wanting to go there with his friend at the moment, Xander grinned and got to his feet. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

“Are you going to talk to Spike?” She tucked away the litter and zipped up the backpack which Xander promptly took from her to carry.

“I’m still a bit mad at him. I think I’ll wait until he says he’s sorry.”

“You may have a wait.”

“We’ll see.”

+++

When they got back to the house, they came into the kitchen to find it full. Spike, Oz, and Gunn were sitting around the table, beer bottles before them.

The smell of blood hit Spike as soon as the door opened, instantly bringing him to his feet. He looked Xander’s bare chest over and took in the scratches and bruises. Xander’s hair had bits of leaves in it and was coming wild from its braid. “Was there a fight? Did something get through the wards undetected? Did you kill it?”

Xander exchanged a look with Willow. “It was already dead. I think I won.”

Spike’s concern turned to puzzlement.

Willow took pity and explained before things could get worse. “Xander started cleaning up the tree that fell on the gazebo.”

“We have saws for that,” Oz said.

“That’s what Willow told me. I’m going to go clean up.” Without another look at Spike, Xander headed upstairs.

Willow chewed her lip as she watched Spike wilt, eyes downcast. “Spike?”

“What?” he asked miserably.

“Ball’s in your court,” she said before turning to inventory dinner ingredients.


Seventeen

“Man, that smells great!” Xander said as he came back to the kitchen with his long, wet hair pulled back into a neat braid once more.

“Cheese burgers with three kinds of cheese, grilled onions, mustard, and a thick pickle on the side,” Willow smiled. “Your timing is perfect.”

Instead of sitting by Spike, Xander dropped into the chair beside Oz. "Remember when we’d have ‘cheeseburger in paradise’ nights?”

Oz nodded. “When everyone chipped in five bucks, we all ate good.”

Willow frowned at the snub to Spike, but placed his full plate before her friend. “As long as Giles didn’t get stuck with the clean up, I think he liked it, too.”

“I need to call him,” Xander said as he wrapped his hands around the soft bun.

Willow took what should have been Xander’s seat beside Spike. She patted the withdrawn vamp on the arm before she answered. “He’s supposed to chat me on the computer tonight. Do you want to talk to him then?”

Xander nodded, then let his eyes roll up in an expression of pleasure. They all smiled at Xander’s pleasure except Spike who was picking the label off his beer bottle. They chatted a bit, reminiscing about the burger and research parties at Giles’.

Once his food was half gone, Xander turned the conversation to the Gazebo. He gave Oz a breakdown of what he thought needed to be done and how long it might take. He hoped to complete it before winter.

“The first thing we need to do is get you established back in the world,” Gunn said. “I have started the paper work with the authorities, but they’ll have to see you in person.”

“Oh. Yeah.” Xander’s mood fell a bit.

“Hey! I almost forgot!” Willow chirped. She got up and rummaged in her pocketbook. She came back and held out a silver key chain with several keys on it. “Ta da!”

Xander swallowed his bite of pickle and took them. “What’s this?”

She leaned over his shoulder and pointed them out. “House key. Master key to all outbuildings except the foundry. Physical override key to the gate. Key to my car, just in case.”

“Oh, Willow!” Xander pulled her into a hug. “Thank you!” He was touched by this physical manifestation of being “home.”

“You’re staying here now. We can’t have you getting locked out at all odd hours. Look at the fob.” Xander turned over the silver oval to reveal an etched silhouette of the original Enterprise form Star Trek. “I looked for Babylon 5, but this was the best I could do.”

“Gee. I guess I need some pants with pockets, now.”

“It’s still early on a Tuesday. The mall should be fairly dead, if you want to go.”

“I don’t know…”

“Come on. We’ll just get you enough clothes to make it safe for you to work properly at the Gazebo.”

“Bare feet and power tools are of the unmixy.” Oz put in sagely.

“True, but… I don’t have any money.”

“Yeah, you do,” Spike spoke up. He didn’t look at Xander, but rolled the now-empty bottle between his palms. “Several of your gems have sold. I’m holding the money in a special account until you can establish a bank account of your own.”

“Less your commission?” Xander snapped.

Spike glanced up sharply. “I’m not getting commission, remember?” He got up and left before Xander could say anything else. Shortly, a door slammed upstairs.

Xander didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but returned to eating.

Willow bit her lip and started to tell Xander to go to Spike.

“Work clothes can be put on the company card,” Oz said. “It’s better than having the place shut down when you drop something on your foot.” He gave his wife his patented ‘don’t meddle’ look.

Xander shrugged.

“Come on,” Willow coaxed. “I want to go to the bookstore anyway.”

“Sure. I guess so.” He straightened. “It’s time I went out in the world anyway. No. Wait. I don’t have clothes to wear to go out clothes shopping.”

“You’ve got good enough clothes to go to Wal-Mart.” Willow said.

“First day back out in the world and you want to take the man to Wal-Mart?” Gunn asked.

Xander looked over at him. “I’ve fought Giftox demons in the ring. I can face Wal-Mart.”

Gunn thought it over. “That’s the only qualifications I would take. Still, be careful.”

Now excited, Willow hopped to her feet. “I’ll make a list, and then we’ll take you upstairs so I can measure you. It’s not good to start out not having a clue about sizes.”

Oz leaned in and said quietly to Xander, “Be brave, man. If you start to wig, you know she’ll bring you right back.”

“I know. That’s why I can bear to go.”

Xander finished his meal and let Willow take him upstairs to Midra’s sewing room for a good measuring. In his room below them, Spike easily heard their conversation about shopping and Xander joking about driving. He closed his eyes to dampen the unreasonable anger. Xander was going to go out driving with him. Then he suddenly knew what Willow had meant. He had to apologize.

Sod it! One thing Spike wasn’t good at was apologies. He listened to them walk down the stairs and leave the house. He followed their progress to the garage and listened to the car drive away. Spike picked up his notepad and pen and went upstairs to Xander’s room. The door was standing open and the man had not told him to stay out.

Spike crossed to the sun-lit chair and sank down upon it. He bit the tip of his pen and started to write.

+++

As Willow turned out onto the main road, she loked over at Xander. “Tell me when you want to go home, Okay?”

“Home. I will. Did you know I kept the keys to my apartment? Even after Sunnydale went all hole, I carried the keys. Not my car keys, though.”

“Huh. I did, too. I still have a key to Ravello drive somewhere.”

“You’ve built quite a home for yourself, Willow. I’m flattered to be a part of it.”

“Xander.” She reached over and took his hand. “you’ve always had a home in my heart.”

He squeezed her hand and let her reclaim it and put it safely o the wheel. “Thank you, Wills. But do I really rate the biggest room?”

Willow laughed. “Do you want a smaller room? There are three more to choose from. All guest rooms.”

“I like that room…”

“Then stay there. Share the window with Spike and no one will have a problem with it. Well, Buffy might complain, but she enjoys that.”

Xander laughed. “Yeah, I can share the window.”

“He feels bad, you know.”

“I know. But… I can’t let him walk all over me, Willow.”

“Just know that he’s fragile, too. He hides it, but his soul digs at him.”

“Yeah. I remember.” Xander cast about for some way to turn the topic of conversation. “You say we can talk to Giles over the computer? Through a crappy little picture?”

“Oh, Xander!” He knew he’d hit on her love of computers. “You don’t know all the good technology there is now!” He relaxed and let himself worry secretly about Spike as Willow went on about bandwidth and new micro chips. His attention snapped back when she brought it back to shopping. “We could buy you a lap top of your own! There’s a wonderful computer shop in the mall and the new…”

“Whoa! Slow down. I don’t need anew toy just yet. Let me get some clothes, first.”

“Okay. But I do have an old one I can set you up with. It’s not super fast, but you can learn on it. You were talking at dinner the other day about all the music you need to catch up with. The whole house is wireless. I can get the old laptop out and you can download what you want. I even have a MusicBox I’m not using but it only holds a hundred songs. I got it free with my new laptop. But I have a better one.”

“A hundred songs?”

And so they talked and shopped.

+++

Xander returned home wearing new clothes with an arm full of bags. He and Willow soon drew everyone into the living room with their happy chatter. They recounted how Willow turned the tables on a woman who was looking down on Xander’s shabby clothes by telling her Xander had lost everything in a fire. On their brief trip to the mall, a bookseller shamelessly hit on Xander; practically following him around and carrying his purchases to the counter for him.

“I think it was because I was buying so much,” Xander blushed.

“Bull!” Willow cried. “You’re hot, Xander.”

“No. I’m not.”

“Riiiiight. Hey! Where’s Spike? She told me one of the books he’d ordered was in.”

“He went out a little while after you did,” Gunn said. “Don’t know where.”

Xander’s good mood crashed. “I think I’ll take some of this upstairs.”

“I’ll call you for dinner,” Midra said.

“Thanks.”

+++

Upstairs, Xander immediately found the neatly folded note. It was sitting on a chair which had been set in the middle of the rug.

Xander chewed his lip as he read it, and was puzzled to find a verse of poetry.

Too often between brothers a word

Wounds more deeply than a sword.

Perhaps another word, spoken in due haste,

Can heal the rift, and avoid the waste.

I’m sorry I mocked what you hold dear

I hope this makes our course again clear.

See you tomorrow.

S.

Poetry? When had Spike had time to find the right bit of poetry? Still, he had apologized. His mood lifted, Xander wondered when he’d be back.

On his way down to dinner, Xander stopped at Spike’s room. In his chat with the admittedly attractive and intelligent bookseller, he’d told her about the bike Spike was restoring and she’d shown him a book about the history of the Indian motorcycle that had just come in. Xander didn’t think she worked on commission, but it looked like something all the guys would enjoy. He sat it on the floor and leaned it against the door where the vampire would find it. He jumped when the door that wasn’t latched opened, letting the heavy book thump to the floor. Xander started to just close the door, but curiosity got the better of him.

There was not much in the room. It was very simply and tastefully decorated in warm browns, tans, and punctuated with blue the color of a Siamese cat’s eyes. A part of Xander’s mind noted how the blue matched Spike’s eyes at times. The room was smaller than his own and heavy curtains blocked the sun from the one window. A few pieces of clothing were scattered around. The blankets had been thrown into place, or perhaps Spike slept on top of them. A sword in its sheath leaned in the corner. A stack of books lay on the bedside table and more were in a sloppy pile under the window.

Xander knelt down and looked over the titles, wondering if the poetry book Spike had quoted was there. Of course, there was a whole library in the room above, but he thought the book would be here. They were fiction novels and surprisingly to him a few biographies. No poetry.

Xander turned off the light, closed the door all the way, and left the book as he had intended.

After the meal, Gunn took Xander into the tidy office and went over details of Xander’s location and the timing of the event. He was very careful to stay away from any personal details. After three hours, a couple of phone calls, and several visits to various government websites, Gunn declared him pretty much backing the land of the living. The following week he had to appear in person at the court house.

“You should call your mother before the government does, Xander.”

He sighed and ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah. I should. First thing in the morning, okay?”

“I’ll print out the information you need and you can call when it feels right. Thanks, Xander. I’m sorry I had to do all this…”

“Gunn, I am more grateful to you than you know. I was worried about a media circus. I really don’t want to make the rounds of the talk shows.”

“I’m a pro. It won’t happen. Want to raid the cookie jar?”

“I’d love to.”

Willow intercepted them. “Xander! Do you want to talk to Giles? It’s almost G-Time!”

Xander moaned. “Oh, Willow. I do. I really do. But, tomorrow? Can I talk to him tomorrow?”

“Oh. Sure. I guess you’ve been digging things up.”

“Yeah, “ Xander laughed dryly. “I’m alive again. Now I know how Buffy felt.”

That night, Xander lay awake. Thoughts about talking to his mother haunted him. What could he say? “Hi, Mom! Guess what, I’m not dead and you have to return the insurance money. By the way, how was Dad’s funeral?”

And Giles. He loved Giles like a favorite uncle. There were times the man literally laid his life on the line for all of them. He had been the last person Xander had talked to before he set out on that fateful shopping trip. And the stroke? How could he face that?

He hoped Spike wasn’t mocking him with the poetry. He had seemed almost jealous when he’d mentioned reading poetry with Anthony.

Xander looked at the shape of the stack of books on the table. One of them was the complete poems of John Donne. Anthony had an often voiced regret that he’d never been able to get this hands on that very book. Travelers so rarely read poetry. Now Xander could read all those poems Anthony only barely remembered. The loss hit him again, hard. He punched his pillow in anger.

Damn Spike. He’d lost people before. He’d seen the vamp when Buffy died. Maybe they could talk about it. Suddenly, often-suppressed tears welled to the top. He rolled to his side and hid his sobs in the pillow. Jessie, Mrs. Calendar, Joyce, Buffy, Anya, Anthony, his father, the potentials and new slayers he’d barely gotten to know, the past five years of freedom… all his losses surfaced.

And he let it go. When the tide finally subsided, he lay as one washed ashore, wishing he could call out for Spike and see how his friend felt. He wanted to talk about that hard summer after Buffy died and to apologize for shutting him out. He wanted to know of another’s losses.

But Spike wasn’t there.


Eighteen

Oz snuggled up behind his still-drowsing wife and kissed the back of her neck.

“Oh, James,” Willow said, pressing back against him, playing a running private joke, and naming a movie star she’d once called cute.

Oz nipped her neck and growled a little. “Not James,” he said through his teeth.

“No. No. I said… Rains. Supposed to rain.” She giggled, rolled over, and kissed his nose.

He growled again, nipped at her and rolled over on top of her. “Mine!”

She smiled and bared her throat to him. “Of course, my love. Always yours.”

He kissed her neck and shifted down to lay with his head on her chest. Theirs was a comfortable marriage, full of humor and security. Every morning they took a few minutes to themselves.

“Spike didn’t come back last night, did he?” Willow asked.

“No. I didn’t hear him. I hope he hasn’t done a runner.”

“I doubt it. He knows Xander needs him.”

“True. I hope Xander knows he can come to any one of us.”

“I’m sure he does. I wish you’d let me go to him last night.” Oz had heard him crying, yet kept Willow from investigating.

“If he needs us, he’ll come. He’s not one to run from trouble any more.”

Willow sighed and ran her fingers through Oz’s short red hair. “He’s the same and yet he’s not. You should have seen him with that tree branch. I almost wet myself.”

“I’ve watched him fight, I can believe it.”

“I just wish we could catch a break and get the bastard who did this to him.”

“We will, sweetheart. Xander himself has been giving us lots of data.”

“Speaking of data, I’m going to give Xander my old laptop.”

Oz shifted and looked up at her. “Just make sure all the pictures are off it.”

Willow giggled. “I’m going to reformat it and give him a blank slate.”

“Good. And when do I get to take pictures of you in that new outfit?”

Xander heard Willow’s laughter as he passed their door. He smiled warmly and moved on to leave them their privacy.

No one was downstairs, so he grabbed an apple, some juice, and a pop tart and headed out to the barn. He used his new key and let himself in the empty building, climbed the ladder to the loft, and pushed open the doors that were once used to hoist up hay bales. He sat on an old sofa that partly made up a sitting area and looked out over the lawn to the misty trees.

He had eaten his meal and was enjoying the sun’s morning warmth when he heard a noise below him. Silently, he dropped to his knees and scurried to the edge of the loft. He peeked over the side and watched as a door below him opened. Spike stepped through with a package under his arm. He was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. Xander wondered briefly why he didn’t wear his coat anymore and made a mental note to ask. Xander grinned, and without hesitation, dropped the fifteen feet to land behind Spike. He knocked the startled and suddenly gamefaced vampire to the ground.

Spike rolled, leaped to his feet, and crouched as his opponent did the same. Instead of an assassin, he found Xander, his hair free and wild, matching his crouch. “What’s this, whelp?”

Xander quirked an eyebrow. “Payback, perhaps?” Xander charged and Spike dodged.

They grappled, almost playfully, for fifteen minutes, then Spike stood off a little distance after recovering from a nice rolling toss. “What’s the matter? Still mad? Didn’t you find my note?”

“Yeah. I did.” Xander paused, wanting to ask about what poem it came from, but during a fight didn’t seem right.

Spike tongued the back of his teeth. “Couldn’t you get anyone to read it to you?”

“Old joke, Spike. Almost as old as you!” Xander grinned and charged again, sending them both to the floor. Spike tried some of his more slippery moves, only to find himself countered again and again. They rolled into the weapons rack, and sent staffs and stakes flying. Xander wound up on top of Spike and was the first to grab up a stake and press it to Spike’s chest, deliberately off-target by a good four inches.

“Yield!” Spike called. Xander dropped the plastic stake and grinned down at his friend.

“Got you, didn’t I?” A triumphant Xander put his hands on Spike’s shoulders and pinned him. His hair fell around them like a tent.

“Yes, you’ve got me” Spike said. The air seemed warm and he resisted the urge to grab Xander’s hair with both hands and pull him down for a sarcastic kiss. “Now, are you going to let me up or are you enjoying yourself up there?”

Xander shrugged and bounced just a little. He could feel Spike’s sharp hipbones and ribs. Suddenly, he remembered straddling another vampire he fought with like this. Quickly, he got to his feet and held out a hand for Spike. “Something to sit on,” he mumbled.

“Something to sit on,” Spike echoed as he let Xander help him up, hiding his disappointment with more snark. “There are more interesting things to sit on.”

Xander got back in their game, smirked, and started picking up to the weapons. “I know.” They tidied up the barn together. “So where did you go?” Xander finally asked.

“To town. Let off some steam. Ate an attempted rapist. Picked up a bike part and my book. My book! Damn it, Harris, you better not have damaged it.” Spike stalked over to his dropped package and picked it up.

“Sorry if I did.” Xander followed him. He just glimpsed a colorful cover before the vampire tucked it back in its bag. “What cha got?”

“Birthday present for Niblet. I was going to hide it out here. It’s fine. Lucky for you.”

“Sorry. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

“You got me good, I’ll give you that. You need to tell me more about your mysterious trainer.” The more the concepts of sex and vampires surfaced, the more certain Spike was there had been more than a professional relationship there. Of course, the bite scar on Xander’s leg said that, too.

Xander’s smile faded. “I will.” He looked away. “He was a good man, Spike, for all his nature.”

Spike cursed himself. He wasn’t going to bollocks it up again. “It happens, you know.”

Xander met his eyes. “I know, Spike.”

Spike ducked his head. “Sorry I said bad things about…”

“It’s okay. You got distracted by something shiny and forgot to not snark.”

“Yeah. That was it.”

Xander felt the need to hug his friend, but just slapped him on the back instead. “Wanna see what’s for breakfast?” Spike hid the book up in the rafters as Xander dusted himself off.

Spike and Xander opened the outside and the basement doors into the kitchen at almost the same time, making Midra jump. “Xander! I thought you were still upstairs asleep. Spike! When did you come back?”

“I went out to the barn to watch the sun come up.” Xander said.

“Just got back,” Spike smirked.

“Well, you may as well sit down and eat while you’re here.”

“Just a bit of tea for me, Luv,” Spike said as he sat down.

“You know I don’t keep tea ready. I’ll put the water on, you make your own.”

“Bloody Americans.”

Midra grinned. “I passed that test with flying colors. Did better than you!”

“Why should I keep up with who the bloody hell votes on things? Not like I vote.”

The rest of the household shortly filtered in and Xander relaxed in the familiar banter.

+++

After breakfast where they all talked and laughed, Willow and Dawn dragged Xander off to the off to introduce him to his new laptop. Spike went upstairs to his room and picked up a battered paperback. Hearing that Xander was still downstairs, he went up to read in the sun.

When Xander finally broke away from the ladies, he came back to his room with the new computer under his arm. He paused in the door when he discovered Spike with one of his new graphic novels open before his face. “Now who’s reading comic books?”

“I am, now shut up and let me finish.”

Xander chuckled and set his new toy on the table. “Gunn is looking for you.”

“Oh?” Spike said without looking up.

“He’ll be in the office.”

“Cool.”

Xander left the vampire and went into the bathroom to shower. When he came out, the room was empty. Several of his graphic novels lay on the chair. He sat down at he table and turned the laptop on. Willow’s instructions swirled in his head, but he managed to connect to the Internet. He typed in his new password, jellyfilled1, and stared at the screen. So much was out there, where to start? He looked around the room and his eyes settled on the folded paper he’d left by his bed. He could find where Spike’s poem came from and one-up the vamp.

He found Google, and typed in the first line in quotes as Willow had showed him with no results. Puzzled, he tried various phrases with equal lack of luck. After fifteen minutes, he gave up and looked for naked pictures of Seven of Nine.

When Willow knocked on the partly open door later, she found Xander sprawled on the bed reading one of his new books. She sat down on the bed beside him. “Catching up with the X-Men?”

“Uh-huh. This Weldon guy is great.”

Willow picked one up and looked at the cover. “Whedon,” she corrected. “Hey! You need to watch the Wonder Woman movie he directed. She’s gorgeous!”

Xander put his book aside and smiled at his friend. “Show it to me, soon. Okay?’

“It’s a date. Oh! Gunn says to remind you to call your mother.”

“Eep!” Xander sat up and picked up a pillow. “I don’t know what to say to her, Willow.”

“How about ‘Hi, Mom. I’m home.’”

“That’s better than some of the ideas I’ve had.”

“Come on. I’ll be right here with you. It’s like the homework you never wanted to do. Just get it over with.”

“You’re right. Where’s a phone?”

They crossed the hall into the library where a few comfortable chairs sat here and there. Willow pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Here. You want me to stay?”

“No. Thanks, Wills. I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

Willow gave him a quick hug and left him alone.

+++

Xander fell into one of the chairs and stared at the phone like the alien thing it was. The last time he’d talked on one was the day he’d been abducted. The connection from Africa to England was staticy and Giles had been distracted by some disaster Andrew had caused. He sighed and picked it up. Carefully, he punched the numbers and leaned back when he heard the ringing on the other end.

“Hello?” Came the well-remembered voice.

“Hey, Mom, it’s Xander. I’m home.” His voice cracked and he felt his throat tighten.

“Xan... Xander? Baby? Where? Where are you?”

“I’m in California, Mom. My friends… my company rescued me.”

“Where have you been, sweetheart? I… Did you go native?” She asked with an uncomfortable laugh. “Mr. Giles told me how they searched. Then we couldn’t find you after so long, we thought…”

“I was held captive, Mom. I wanted to come home, I was on the way, but I was kidnapped and… kept.”

“Oh, my poor baby. How are you now? Are you being taken care of? Are you healthy?”

“Yes, Mom. I’m with friends. Good friends. I’ve got a lawyer who will take care of all the legal things.”

“Good, that’s good. I’m doing well. I…” She paused, and Xander closed his eyes, just knowing what she was going to say. “Baby. Did they tell you about…”

“Dad,” Xander rasped. “Yeah. They did. I’m sorry, Mom.”

“The big idiot. We always knew…” She was crying and laughing at the same time.

“Yeah, we did. What are you doing now?”

He heard her sniff and blow her nose. “I’m here in Houston with my sister. You know, Kitty? I… I got my license to sell real estate like I always wanted to. I’m doing real good. And I lost twenty pounds!”

“Oh, Mom! I’m proud of you.”

“Thanks. Oh, Xander. I always knew you’d come back.”

“I always hoped I could.”

“Um… I hate to do this, but I have to show a house in thirty minutes, and…”

“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll talk soon. I love you, Mom.”

“I love you, too, Xander. I always have.”

Xander hung up the phone and sat staring at nothing. His mother sounded happy. She wasn’t just sitting around, and he was very pleased for her. Now he just had to talk to Giles, sign a bunch of papers and he’d be back to being a real person. Whatever that meant.

He went to his room, dressed in his new work clothes, and collected Oz for a business walk up to the Gazebo. He felt best in the open air where freedom was all around him.

After dinner, where Spike teased Dawn about her birthday gift, Gunn took Xander aside for a bit more paperwork. Afterward, Willow whisked him off to the theatre room to watch “Wonder Woman,” eat too many snacks, and recuperate from his busy day. When the movie was over, Xander found himself yawning and looking for Spike.

He carried the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen. Midra was just closing the refrigerator. “What’s got you up so late?”

“Gunn wanted a cold drink. My man doesn’t always get around as well as he’d like.”

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

“Don’t you worry none about him,” Midra smiled. “He’s never been happier. You looking for that vamp of yours?”

“Who? Oh, Spike. Yeah. I wanted to ask him something.” Xander couldn’t stop wondering about the poem.

“He’s out tinkering on his bike again. You can always go help.”

“Nah. I got up early. It’ll keep.”

“Take your time, Xander. It’s a good thing,” Midra said as she left the brightness of the kitchen for the dim hallway.

Xander shook his head, puzzled. The woman was sweet, but said strange things sometimes. With a yawn, he switched off the lights and went up to bed.


Nineteen

Spike hesitated outside of Xander’s door. He could hear the human asleep inside; his heartbeat slow and even. Spike didn’t want to wake him up, but he wasn’t sleepy and his book was on the chair where he’d been reading in the sun earlier. Spike turned away, then back. He wanted his book, as he only had two chapters left. Decision made, Spike slowly pushed the door open. He heard Xander’s heart speed and his breathing quicken for two breaths.

“Spike?” came the sleepy voice from the bed.

“Yeah, mate. Sorry I woke you,” Spike stepped into the dark room and crossed to the chair.

“What’s up?” Xander said in fluent pillow.

“I just want my book. Go back to sleep.”

“You don’t have to.”

Spike picked up his book and paused. “Do what?”

“Read.”

“Well, I’m not sleepy, and it’s at a good part.”

Xander rolled to his side with his back to the room, and curled up around his pillow. “You can talk to me.”

“But you’re already asleep.”

“’m not. Not much.”

Spike chuckled. “Okay.” He sat on the chair. “What shall we talk about?”

Xander flopped an arm and patted the empty mattress. “Com’ ‘ere.”

Spike hesitated then went around the bed to sit down. “What’s up?”

“No,” Xander said and lifted the blanket. “Come here. Lonely.”

“Oh. Give me a second, let me get comfortable.”

“Not too comfy.”

“I’ll keep my hands above the covers,” Spike said with a smile.

“Kay.”

Spike took off his boots, socks, and shirt, then slid under the covers. He lay with his hands under his head and watched the ceiling fan turn. He listened as Xander’s breath deepened, but the young man did not fall asleep.

“Spike?” he finally said.

“Yeah, mate?”

“You said you’d tell me about Drusilla some time.”

Spike turned his head to look at Xander’s closed eye. “What brought this up?”

“Last night I was thinking about people I’ve lost. We’ve lost. Tonight, I was thinking about sex. About firsts: Anya.”

“I thought Faith was your first.”

“Yes… first sex. Not first… love making.”

"Why are you thinking about me and sex anyway, fancy me maybe?" Spike risked a joke.

"Wasn't. As if.” Xander calmly countered. “I was thinking about me and sex and the mental paths somehow crossed. Faith… Anya… you and Anya… you and… others… you and Drusilla.”

Spike could hear no anger or accusation in Xander’s voice when he mentioned his one time indiscretion. “I am sorry about that, Xander.”

“’bout what?”

“Anya, me, Magic Box.”

“Oh. It’s long over, Spike. We were on a break. ‘sides she was hot. I can’t blame you.”

“So, what lead you to thinking about Drusilla? You think she was my first?”

“I donno. Wasn’t thinking about that. I’m sure you had no trouble getting dates.”

Spike watched Xander breathe for a minute, wondering at the changes once more. The man wasn’t teasing or mocking. He honestly thought that. “Dru was my first,” he confessed, looking away.

“Really?” Xander’s eye popped open. He studied Spike’s sharp profile in the dim light.

“Really. It was the Victorian era, mate. I barely had any idea what a woman looked like without clothes on. If it weren’t for the woodcuts in the family bible, I would’ve had less of a clue.”

“Damn. You were, how old? Thirty-five?”

“Oi! Twenty-six. Have I ever looked thirty-five? No.”

Xander giggled and closed his eye. “So you died a virgin yet you teased me about how little I got in high school.”

“I’m evil. It had to be done.”

Xander blew him a raspberry. “So, Drusilla, huh?”

Spike sighed. “My black princess. I more than made up for a breathing life of chastity in the first month, even.”

“How long?”

“Oh, one time we shagged for maybe three days straight.”

“Uh. No. I mean, how long were you together?”

“A hundred years, off and on.”

“I thought you were constantly together.”

“No. We’d have our spats and she’d send me away. The longest we were apart was a year. But we always came back together like two strong magnets.” The pain of the loss of Dru washed up anew and he pressed it down. “Sometimes I wake up alone and my first instinct is to find Dru and make sure she’s safe.”

“That sucks.”

Spike shrugged. “It’s not so bad any more.”

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

“Three years ago. I was up in Seattle on business when I felt someone following me.”

+++

Spike had felt someone near, watching him all night. It was like an ache from a sword through his gut. It pained him, but at the same time it was oddly comforting.

He spent an hour at a bar, slowly sipping a drink and hoping his tail would show. When he grew impatient and left, turned toward the ocean, attempting to led his stalker into the open by the docks. Once near the water, he ducked into an alley and waited atop a heavy machinery crate some ten feet into the shadows. Finally the ache grew stronger and a well-known silhouette appeared.

“You can’t hide from me. The fish will always whisper where you are.”

Spike felt his chest tighten and he jumped down from where he’d been perched. “Drusilla!”

+++

“I didn’t think it was her dogging my steps. Don’t know why. I think maybe I didn’t want to be let down when it wasn’t her.”

Xander could hear the longing in his voice.

+++

She glided down the dank alley towards him. “Did you bring me here because of our first date? Such a pretty boy you were. Effulgent.”

Spike stepped toward her, his hand out in the courtly gesture they’d always shared, but she wrapped her arms tightly about her black corseted bosoms and turned away with a pout. “Dru…” he said softly over the tightness in his throat.

“You’re effulgent again. You went and found it. Wrestled it from the ether for her. You swallowed it down and now it chokes you like the fog you were born in.”

“Yeah. It does, princess.”

“Not your princess.” She turned sad eyes on his slumped shoulders. “First Daddy, then you. Grandmummy came back and I was her mummy, then she left again. It was her sent me to you. And you, bad boy, played and gave me hope.” Drusilla was suddenly before him, glaring up into his face with all the spite she had.

+++

“She mocked me for getting a soul. For getting it for Buffy. She reminded me that Angel had left her when he got his, too. Poor Drusilla. All alone in the world. Truth be told, I was surprised she was still around. Pleased, but surprised. She gave me one of her cryptic warnings about Angel. I tried to tell him about it, but he never put as much store in her powers of seeing as I do. Stupid bloody fool never listens.”

Xander wondered again about the rift between them, but that was a conversation for another night. Spike closed his eyes, forced out a breath, then continued.

+++

Spike looked into her eyes and once more saw the spark of the woman he loved under the evil and the madness. He reached for her as they had always reached for one another. “My princess…”

She hissed and her carefully painted nails dug deep furrows into his cheek. “Don’t, Spike! I asked you once to return to me and you held wood to my chest. She’s gone now, left you for cinders, and you’re all alone. Tried to play with Daddy like I did, but he’s gone, too.”

Spike ignored the blood running down his cheek and dripping onto his coat. He easily translated Dru’s babble. “Angel’s not gone. I saw him last week.”

“Daddy’s gone. Never coming back. Angelus is finally caged.”

He learned long ago to respect her visions. “What are you saying, Luv?”

“He doesn’t want to play vampire games any more. He wants to play house and own a doggie.” She giggled and whirled away. “He wants to play house with a doggie.”

“His girl? The werewolf?”

“Yeah. Only I know the secret.” She pouted again and plucked at her skirts.

“Tell me, Luv,” Spike coaxed. “If you care even a little?”

“If he doesn’t let the demon out for a run, the demon will take him out for a run.”

Spike pondered this. “If he ignores his nature?”

Drusilla nodded and her mad laugh bubbled up, sending a tingle down Spike’s spine. “The stars tell me. Something less than Angelus will kill daddy.”

“Oh,” Spike put this away. “Dru. Where have you been?”

“Everywhere. Children don’t taste the same everywhere. Remember Spike?”

Spike clenched his fists in his pockets at the upsurge of his soul. He looked away from her. “Yeah. In India they’re sharp from the spices on their skin.”

“In America they’re sluggish like lard from all the sugar. Remember the games, Spike? All the pretty, pretty games? The orphanage where we got some watchers too?”

Spike nodded, then lashed out at the crate beside him. It exploded into splinters and bubble wrap. Without realizing it, he snatched a broken board and clenched it in his fist until blood dripped from it.

+++

“She reminded me of all the bloody, horrific fun we used to have. The innocents we corrupted together.” Spike paused and Xander studied his profile. “A part of me, Xander, wanted it back. Bloody hell, even after all the gnawing from my soul I just didn’t want to be lonely any more. A mad part of my mind wondered how much more evil I would have to do before my soul gave up and left me in peace. Or left me entirely.”

+++

Drusilla waltzed over to him and lifted his shaking hand to her lips. Their eyes met as she licked the blood from his knuckles before holding the stake between them with a point at either end pressing their chests. Slowly, she licked her lips. “My Spike. My bold knight. You never really left me, did you? Come kiss me and let our dust mingle as our lips meet.”

Spike raised his other hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Dru, you mad thing, it would only kill me and not you. Your point’s not over your heart.”

“Oh,” she pouted. “It doesn’t beat, so I forget.”

Spike stepped back slightly and tossed the stake away. He pulled her into his arms before she could protest. Their hands were everywhere as they pushed at each other’s clothing. Spike wrapped his long fingers around her tiny waist and carried her to the rough wall. With remembered ease, he navigated under her complicated skirts and thrust inside her. She wept into his shoulder-length hair as he morphed to the demon and bit her neck, tasting again the blood of his sire.

He tasted youth and vigor and knew she’d killed a child this very night. He reached a hand down to where their bodies joined and twisted her clit in the way he well knew. She screamed and bit into his neck as they both came, feeding on the shared pleasure and angst.

Spike’s chest heaved as he met Drusilla’s still-yellow eyes. “You taste like sunshine, Spike,” she said sadly. “When I was a little girl, I liked to hold flowers to my cheeks and lick the pollen from my fingers. That’s gone.”

Spike let his softening cock slip from inside her. He placed her gently on her feet. He found his cast off t-shirt and carefully cleaned his emissions from her thighs. Reverently, he placed a kiss at her moist center and lowered her skirts, soothing them over her narrow hips. He re-pinned a lock of her hair and rubbed a bit of blood from her chin before pressing his forehead to hers.

“Drusilla. You will always be in my heart.”

“And your soul.”

“Yes. In my soul. I do admit there are times I wish I could cast it aside and go back to our days of play…”

“But you never will. I tried to ignore the stars but they’re too loud.”

Spike pulled back. “Good bye, Dru,” he said softly. He took one last in her mad brown eyes, at the woman he loved once last time, then picked up his coat and headed back to the empty room he was calling home.

+++

“I couldn’t resist and I had her again, up against the wall, with all the passion and blood of the old days. God, it’d been so long. I should have killed her. I knew it was the just and right thing to do, but I’ve never been a sodding white hat. I loved her too much. Sometimes I hear news reports of missing children and wonder just where in the world she is. Feel bloody rotten about it, but I could never kill the one person who ever so totally loved me. Makes me feel like maybe one day I could be loved like that again.”

Xander knew that emptiness, the desire to be with a lost lover again. He envied Spike this opportunity which he could never have.

Spike heard Xander sniffle and looked over at him. He caught the warm brown eye brimming with tears before the big man rolled over and out of bed. “Be right back, gotta pee,” he muttered.

Spike rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes, dashing away the tears there. Damn the boy for stirring things up. Still, it was good to have someone to talk to about such things. Hell, at this rate, I should maybe refund part of my pay… Nah.

Xander went to the bathroom and closed the door. He looked himself in the eye and considered what he’d heard. Spike is lonely, as lonely as I am. For some reason, he had never considered this. Since he’d come back, he hadn’t seen any signs that the vampire was anything but happy in his role of lone wolf soldier for hire. Xander felt his stomach do a little flip, but pushed any notion of an idea of that flavor away. Spike is my friend, my pal, my fighting partner, nothing else. Xander blew his nose, relieved himself, and looked himself in the eye as he washed his hands. Just like Anthony was… Xander’s brow bunched angrily and he snapped off the light, ridding himself of the treacherous Xander who was feeding him such comparisons before memories of the lean body pinned beneath him earlier could resurface.

When Xander came back, the bedside light was on and Spike was sitting against the headboard with his book open before him.

Wordlessly, Xander climbed into bed and made himself comfortable with his back to the vampire without looking at him. After fifteen minutes passed and Spike still hadn’t turned a page, Xander rolled over and sat up. He looked Spike straight in the eye. “You don’t have to wake up alone if you don’t want to,” he said in an almost commanding tone.

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. You can stay in here with me if you want. If I want to be alone, I’ll tell you and you do the same. The bed’s big enough and it doesn’t mean anything other than camaraderie, okay?” Xander babbled.

“Thanks, Xander.”

Xander abruptly turned his back again and pulled up the covers. “Don’t thank me.” He said briskly. “I’m being selfish for once. I'd been meaning to ask you if you wanted to stay once in a while. I just remembered to.” He fluffed his pillow and settled down. “And keep those cold feet off of me!”

“Yes, Xander." Spike happily picked up his book to read for real. "Dear.”


Twenty

Xander awoke to find a reassuring weight at his back. From shoulder to hip, Spike was pressed against him, with the smaller man’s spine fitting below his. He closed his eye again, unwillingly comparing this body with another’s. In the caverns it was safest to watch one another’s backs, even when asleep.

Xander let out a great sigh and pushed nostalgia aside. He noticed the newness of Spike’s body. He wasn’t as bony as Anthony and not even near as tall. Spike tended to breathe in his sleep which was something Anthony did only if dreaming, and that was rarely in Xander’s experience. Inwardly, he laughed to himself. Two years he’d known Anthony, and only one of them had they been… together. How could that be considered any great length of experience?

Xander frowned in annoyance at his morning wood that twitched happily at the reflected warmth and comfortable presence. Go away, you. That’s not him. it can never be him. His erection twitched again, throbbing the message that it didn’t care, it would like some of that lean muscular body and nicely dimpled cheeks anyway. Shut up. That’s not the agreement we have and Spike would run for the hills if I suggested it. A throb and a drip said what if he doesn’t? I... We don’t have that kind of relationship. Can’t go there. Besides, I miss Anthony. His erection told him to move on already or at least get some.

Behind him, Spike shifted, pressing his buttocks closer. With a shock, Xander realized Spike had removed his pants some time in the night. His firm ass pressed against his own. Xander’s cock bounced happily as of having had its argument proved right. Xander lay still, hoping Spike would just go back to sleep.

Spike lay still for a few minutes, then moved, shifting as if to roll over. Xander had a sudden vision of Spike’s own morning wood being presented to him, or even worse pressed against him. Xander tossed aside the warm covers and dashed for the bathroom.

Spike rolled over and caught a glimpse of Xander’s bare buttocks disappearing into the bathroom. “You okay, Whelp?”

“Yeah. Fine.”

Spike frowned and stretched. His hand encountered a moist place on the sheets. He grinned and brought his fingers to his nose. Xander’s arousal exploded in his predator’s senses. Spike moved his other had to his own hard cock. Norwegian wood, isn’t it good? Poor boy was being all shy. He stroked himself teasingly and waited to see if the man would shower and wank off or just suppress, come back, get dressed, and leave real quick.

He listened to Xander brushing his teeth, relieving himself, and washing his hands. To his surprise, Xander walked back in still naked with his manhood proudly hanging free and sat on the bed on top of the covers with his back against the headboard. “Morning, Spike.”

“Morning.” Spike felt his own erection give up the challenge and fade away. “What’s on your busy agenda today?”

“Nothing definite. I think I’m going to talk to Giles today.”

“He’ll like that, Xander. I think he was starting to feel slighted.”

Xander blushed. “It’s awkward, Spike.”

“Didn’t you part on good terms?”

“Oh, the best. It’s just… I’m different now. I’m a different person. What I’ve done…”

Spike sat up and glared at him. “You really think that the man sometimes known as Ripper will turn his back on you for surviving? I can’t believe you still view him as a mild mannered shopkeeper. I know you’ve seen the fire in those eyes.”

Xander picked up Spike’s pillow and hugged it. “You’re right. I know you are.”

Spike felt a twinge of jealousy for the pillow being pressed to Xander’s body. “Of course I am. Call him today.”

“I will. Thanks.” Xander looked away from where the blanket had slid low on Spike’s body, revealing his smooth chest and that wonderful line at the bottom of the abdominal muscles that point downwards… “Did you finish your book last night?”

Spike smirked as he watched Xander flounder. Oh, yes. Biology will win out if nothing else. “Yeah, I did. Thank you for the book on motorcycles, by the way.”

“I want to look at it some time if I could.”

“Of course you can, Xander. Mi libre es tu libre,” he pigeoned.

“Thanks.” Xander was still looking anywhere but at Spike and he kept the pillow clutched to himself. “I like the new laptop, but I had trouble finding any naked pictures.”

“I’m sure Willow deleted them all off the hard drive.”

“Huh?” Xander gawped at him.

“Joke. Kidding. The Osborne’s aren’t into kinky porn.”

“Spike! Don’t even joke like that! They’re my friends!”

“They’re an earth witch and a werewolf,” Spike shrugged. “Deny what you will.”

“Grumble. Stop that.”

Spike chuckled. “So you want naked pictures? Of anyone in particular?”

“Well, I was looking for Seven of Nine…”

“Is the child lock on?” Spike tossed aside the covers and watched as Xander quickly looked away. Oh well, maybe I’ll wear the boy down. Then again, I really don’t want to mess up what we’ve got. Whatever it is. Spike slipped on his jeans.

“What’s that?”

Spike pulled on his discarded jeans and crossed to the computer, conveniently keeping his back turned to the man so he could put some pants on. “Keeps nasty and naked things from popping up in image search. Must protect the kiddies.”

“Um, I don’t know.”

Xander logged on and Spike started sharing computer tips and passing on some of his favorite URL’s. Xander quickly relaxed and marveled at Spike’s computer knowledge.

Soon, they were searching for strange things and laughing at the results like teenagers.

Jokingly, Spike typed in “skinny guys” and the screen filled with images of boney men, many in obscene situations. “Funny, Spike.”

He shrugged. “I thought so.” Then he saw Xander’s embarrassment. So the man wasn’t completely out yet. “You know, the Internet is a good place to look for song lyrics, too.”

“And poetry.”

“You were looking for something in particular? I noticed your Donne’s poems among the comic books.”

“They’re graphic novels, thank you very much, and I was looking for something.”

“Collect a bunch of comic books and put them in one cover doesn’t change what they are. What were you looking for?” Spike’s long fingers poised over the keys, ready to fill in the empty search field.

“You seemed to enjoy reading them. I was looking for the source of the apology poem.”

“I do like them if you must know. I was just mad back then because you wouldn’t let me read any of them you had in plastic. What’s an apology poem?”

“Too often between brothers a word wounds more deeply than a sword,” quoted Xander.

“Oh.” Spike’s hand’s slipped to his lap. “That’s... that’s an obscure poet. He didn’t publish much.”

“Huh. I like it and wanted to read more. What’s his name?”

“You won’t find him on the net,” Spike said quickly.

“Well, unless it’s a huge conspiracy, I’d still like to know.”

“William Aurelius,” Spike mumbled.

“That’s an unusual last name,” Xander pulled the laptop over in front of himself.

“Hey! Do you know about Live Journal? Lots of cool porn there. All the fan fic you can stand.”

“How would you spell that? A r e l i o s? No. Why does it sound familiar?”

Spike sighed and spelled it out. He watched as Xander hit enter and the results filled the screen. Among the entries for Marcus Aurelius was a listing for “the family tree of Angelus of the line of Aurelius.”

Xander looked over at Spike. “That’s where I’ve seen it. Angel is a poet?”

“No.” Spike got up and went to the comfy, sunny chair. He picked up another of the colorful graphic novels and flipped through it.

Xander gave him a puzzled look and clicked on the link. After reading a few lines he called out to Spike, “Hey, these people know a lot about Angel!”

“Associates of Wolfram & Hart,” Spike explained. “For a while he kept getting it taken down, but they’d just put it up again.” His fingers tightened on the book as he hoped Xander wouldn’t read much more.

“So are you part of his tale?”

“Family, aren’t I?” he muttered.

Xander scrolled down, paused when he found Spike’s name and read some of the early entries. “Ew! You did not feed off an orphanage?”

“Which time?”

Xander turned and looked at him, admittedly a bit shocked. “1889?”

“Yeah. That was mostly Dru and Angelus, but I helped.”

“I think this site is not what I’m looking for.”

“Who wants to know about the poof anyway? Want me to show you Live Journal now?”

“No. Later.” He looked at the list of bloody exploits and remembered something. He searched the page for the name William and there it was.

“London, 1880: A young gentleman named William Blooden was turned by Drusilla. Little is known about his life prior to becoming the vampire known first as William the Bloody and later as Spike. Records show he earned high marks at Cambridge in Classical Studies and Foreign Languages. For two years he served as editor of the monthly student-published booklet ‘The Shield’ that collected submissions of poetry and essays.”

“You wrote it,” Xander said softly. “You wrote me a piece of poetry.”

Spike put down the book. Now that he’d been outed, he may as well take the mockery Xander would dish out. “I did.”

Xander turned to look at him. “Wow. You’ve been published, too?”

Spike shrugged. “Here and there over the years. Never anything much.”

“That’s cool, Spike,” Xander grinned.

“Wait. You think it’s cool that I write poetry as a hobby?”

Xander came over and sat on the end of the seat. “Sure. It’s hard to write. I admit I tried a few times, and Anthony was encouraging, but…” Xander trailed off and chewed on a nail. “I can’t do it. Thanks for writing me something.”

Spike tilted his head at the suddenly shy man. “I didn’t know how else to say I was sorry.”

“It worked.”

“Hey Xander.”

“Yeah?”

“You tell anyone and I’ll have to slowly kill you.”

"Fair enough."

 

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