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Disclaimer: It may come as a surprise but I'm not Joss Whedon or Mutant Enemy and therefore I do not own Spike or any of his many shagging and verbal sparring partners. I weep for the injustice of it all and play with these characters in the fiction I write because this is pretty much all the fun I have. |
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![[info]](/userinfogif.gif){kind=small}
Are You There?
by
Eyezrthewindows
Part One
Spike blinked, looked at the mug of blood in his hand and sniffed it. No, it hadn't gone off but he had no other explanation for what he was seeing at the moment.
Xander stepped into the crypt as if he owned the place, as if he did it all the time, and settled in Spike's easy chair -- the one Spike had been just about ready to plop down on so he could watch telly.
"Hey, Spike." Xander bounced a little, comfortable as could be.
Spike lifted an eyebrow and sat the mug down before he dropped it. He had enough stains and weird smells to contend with, without adding the putrid scent of pig's blood sticking to his floor.
"Harris."
Xander rolled his eyes. "So, whatcha doing? Watching some telly-vision, having a nice, hot cuppa swine plasma?"
"I was," Spike said shortly, still staring at him in disbelief.
"Sit down, Spike. I won't bite. You're the one with that little fetish, not me."
Spike sat down numbly on his newly acquired couch -- he'd stolen it from the college campus; two university kids had chucked it out and left it, despite it's lack of wear and tear. The vomit smell was nearly gone, already.
He sat staring at the boy until Xander sighed gustily and stood up. "Okay, since you're being all weird and non-talky I'm gonna go. See you later. When you're not acting like that."
Xander disappeared out the door and Spike stared at it long after he was gone, mouth open, eyes wide.
That...was strange.
~*~*~*~*~
Second time Xander turned up unannounced, it was maybe an hour before sunset and Spike had just woken up. He was in mid-drink, barely awake, scratching his belly, and spluttered blood down his chin when Xander chirped a 'hidey-ho there, neighbor!' at him as he bounded down the steps toward him. He glared at the boy and wiped at his face, stared at the drops of blood he'd just spit all over his wall.
He was officially completely awake now.
He set the mug down and made a mental note to not be eating the next time Xander showed up.
He crossed his arms. "What..." He sighed and uncrossed them, gesturing with one hand as he shrugged. "What are you doing here? It's not as if...we're friends, right? Shouldn't you be visiting one of your little slayerette pals or something? Sure they'd love to see you..."
"Bah," Xander snorted, waving a hand. "They don't need me. They ignore me. At least you've got some interesting British insults to throw at me. Besides, I think you secretly like me."
Well, he didn't hate the boy but then again he didn't really like him either. He tolerated him, mostly.
Spike frowned and sat down heavily in his chair. He stared at Xander, marveling at what he saw.
A relatively happy boy who thought his friends didn't care for him and didn't seem to really think that much of it.
Spike wondered if they did act that way...well, before. Because now they cared, obviously; the boy just didn't know it.
"Look, I don't know why you're here but--"
"Spike, Spike, Spike, can't a guy visit his fangless, vampire buddy without getting all these questions? What is it, do you want to play Twenty Questions? Is it a famous person? A breadbox?"
Spike sat there a moment, frozen in confusion, fingers twitching against his thigh, then growled. "It's not a sodding breadbox and I'm not playing that naffing game! Had enough of that with Harm, the daft bint."
Xander snickered and sat down on the couch. "I still can't believe you...well, you didn't date her, you had sex with her...what's that? A fuck buddy? Except, you weren't buddies, or friends, or anything. You didn't really like her, did you? You know, sometimes I feel sorry for her. She was shallow and stupid and got vamped at graduation and isn't really a good vampire, if you think about it, and now she's...well. She is what she is."
Spike's mouth had dropped open somewhere in the middle of Xander's babbling and now hung limp somewhere around his chest. He snapped it shut with a decisive click.
"Well. You still babble. The world doesn't know what it's missing, does it? Neither do your friends, I suspect."
Xander gave a half smile and glanced at the dark tv. "Well? What are you watching?"
"Nothing yet. Was just eating when you showed up. Just woke up. Nothing much on, probably. Get shitty reception down here. Can't exactly get a cable hook-up or satellite tv or anything, though."
"Maybe I could run cable through here...I mean, I'd have to steal it but...you're an evil vampire so that wouldn't matter, right?"
Spike just breathed and blinked at him. "You'd do that for me?"
Xander smiled and shrugged. "Why not? We're not complete enemies anymore, are we?"
Spike frowned slightly. "No. I guess we're not."
~*~*~*~*~
Spike banged on the side of his tv, twisted the rabbit ears roughly, and growled when all he got was static and a few snatches of garbled conversation that made no sense.
If only Harris could do the cable for him. He'd be a happy vampire with cable tv and likely get all the skin channels as well. He wouldn't say no to some porn.
He sighed and switched off the WB. He was going to miss Dawson's Creek again.
That ruddy Pacey was stupid anyway. And Dawson? He wasn't even going to go there. Joey didn't deserve all that attention she got using all those big words and even bigger eyes and that lucious little body of hers. Jenn was a slut just toying with Dawson's emotions.
His kind of show, really. Between it and Passions he had a full serving of angst and incredibly fictitious problem solving that really made no sense but was entertaining nonetheless; took his mind off his own troubles, anyway. When he could see it, that is.
He slumped into his chair and looked at the time on the clock above the tv. It was eight-twenty-nine and the boy hadn't shown up yet.
That had him worried but it could also mean he was back with his friends.
Selfish bastard he was, he wanted Xander there with him. He didn't have anyone he could call a friend, hadn't in years, and the boy was quickly becoming his only one.
~*~*~*~*~
Xander showed up again two nights later, appearing dazed and confused and more than a little wobbly on his over-sized, sneakered feet.
"Spike? What am I doing here? I was...there. And now I'm here. I-I don't..."
Spike stood in front of the boy, stared into his eyes. "I don't know. You've been coming here the last few days. Except when you weren't here the last few days. You've been here twice before."
Xander pushed a hand through his hair, frowning. "I did? I have? I don't think so...I don't remember..."
Spike sighed and gestured to the couch. The boy sat down and stared at his hands.
"You got a problem? Well, other'n the obvious."
"Apparently, I have many. I don't remember coming to see you, Spike. It's been...hazy for a while. I don't remember. Why don't I remember? What am I missing?"
He was starting to sound hysterical but Spike didn't know what to do for him. All Spike knew how to do was to create the situations that caused hysteria, he didn't know how to calm a person down. Unless it was Drusilla, that is, and all that took was shoving a doll at her or showing her the night sky or some pretty little girl in a dress she could play with.
"I don't know, mate. This whole thing's confusing the hell out of me. Can't imagine what it's like for you."
Spike sat down beside him, not too close.
"I remember the fight and then going home. I remember showering and going to sleep. I remember driving to work the next morning and...then, nothing. Why can't I remember?! What's wrong with me?!"
Spike winced as the yell grew loud enough to hurt his sensitive ear drums. "Calm down, boy. Jesus, that was loud. Listen, I don't know why you don't remember, don't really know what the hell you're talking about, but you've got to go back, yeah? You've got to go. You can't stay here, not anymore."
Xander sat there a moment staring down at his own hands, then looked at Spike with eyes filled with such sadness and hollow helplessness that it pierced Spike in the chest like a stake.
Spike inhaled sharply and scooted as far away from Xander as he could.
"I-I don't want to go. I don't seem to know where to go. Will you help me?"
Spike swallowed. "If you don't know, I sure as hell don't. I've no bloody clue what's going on! This is...this is buggered, is what it is. Tee-totally buggered. Why do these ruddy strange things keep happening to me, anyway? You goody-goodies should learn to keep your weird shit to yourselves."
Xander's eyes filled. "I don't know how to get back."
Spike felt a suspicious burning at his own eyes but ignored it. "All you have to do is try. I'd think."
Xander breathed unevenly, then got up after a moment and left.
Spike was relieved in some ways and disappointed in others but he knew the boy had to go.
He sat on his couch staring at nothing for the longest time and wondered if he'd see Xander again. He suddenly hoped he didn't, that the boy found what he was looking for and returned to where he was supposed to be.
~*~*~*~*~
Xander smiled at him, bounced on the balls of his feet, stuck his hands in his pockets, and gestured inward as Spike stood at the already open door. "Can I come in?"
"You know you don't need a bloody invite." Spike paused and stared at him. "You okay?"
Xander laughed and walked inside without the invitation he'd been politely waiting for. "I'm fine."
He sat down on the couch like nothing had happened the previous day. And maybe it hadn't. Maybe he didn't remember again.
Maybe Spike was going completely out of his mind.
Spike sighed and shut the door. He'd had it open to get some ventilation. It got pretty damned humid down there some days, so stifling that even he could feel it.
Spike idly wondered, as he poured himself some blood, if the boy would find him if he happened to not be in the crypt when he decided to pop up.
He drank his breakfast and watched Xander examine every nook and cranny of the crypt as if it was the most fascinating thing in the world. He turned on the telly and sat down in front of it. He ignored Xander because the boy didn't seem to be paying any attention to him.
He watched some red-haired woman try to sell some special dishes, including a free special spatula and scoop thingy while Xander nosed through his things.
"You're a messy vampire, Spike."
"Yeah, well, when you live as long as me you discover that cleanliness don't really matter. Especially when you collect a lot of shit and don't have the space to be orderly."
Xander hmm'd and walked into the kitchen. Spike watched him covertly from the corner of his eye.
Xander looked around and then meandered back to Spike's side. He gazed down at him silently for an uncomfortable amount of time and Spike found himself looking back.
The boy blinked as if waking up, shook his head, and then turned without a word and walked out of Spike's home.
Spike's eyelids fluttered rapidly after the departure then finally closed.
He was so tired and all these visits from the boy were confusing the hell out of him.
~*~*~*~*~
It was more than three days later, Spike was patrolling when he heard his name being yelled. He quickly dusted the fledge he'd been toying with, sighing as he didn't get to finish playing with it, and ran toward the sound.
He found Xander wide-eyed and panicking outside his crypt. The boy was practically running around in circles like a chicken with its head cut off.
"What's wrong?" he panted, breathing hard out of habit.
Xander swallowed, tears rolling down his cheeks. "You weren't there, Spike. I couldn't find you and you weren't there. I'm so alone. So scared. I don't know what to do. You're the only one that's been there, Spike. Don't leave. Don't let me be all by myself."
Spike's fingers twitched with the need to touch the boy but he didn't. He kept his hands at his sides and just looked at him.
"Well...I've gotta make sure the town's safe for puppies and little old ladies, don't I? Have to go out sometime, right?"
Xander sniffed, wrapping his arms around himself. He shivered and continued talking as if he hadn't heard Spike. "I'm cold, Spike. I can't seem to get warm. Except when I'm not here. When I'm nowhere I want to be."
Spike's heart thudded a phantom beat in his ears. "Where are you when you're not here, pet?"
"I don't know," the boy whispered, eyes downcast.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike had to do something and he had to do it now. After Xander had left as abruptly as he'd shown up, a normal occurrence of late, he'd stalked to the slayer's house and banged on the door.
Joyce opened the door with a tired smile and invited him inside. "What are you doing here, Spike? Buffy's not here. She can't go on patrol with you, I'm afraid."
"Didn't figure she was," he said fingering the cigarette he was holding unlit in his hand. "Look, I need to see them, Red and the slayer. One or the other or both. You know where they are?"
"They are where they've been since the accident, Spike."
"Yeah, should've figured. Thanks, Joyce."
~*~*~*~*~
He hurried to the hospital, a fire lit under his ass, and suddenly Xander popped up in front of him a frantic look on his face.
"Where are you going, Spike?"
"Where the hell do you think I'm going?" he snarled, moving around Xander to continue on his way.
Xander ran after him. "Wait! You can't go! You don't wanna go there! I need you here, Spike. You can't leave me. You promised! I...I don't know what to do! You have to help me, Spike!"
Spike stopped and turned and Xander skidded to a halt in front of him. "Look, boy, I don't know what you want from me. I don't know why you're showing yourself to me when you're not doing that to anyone else. I don't deserve these little visitations, all right? Go to the little witch. She'd be the one you should see, not me. She might even know what to do, might know how to help you."
Xander began to cry. "But you're the one I want, Spike. You're the one that--" His eyes widened as he stopped himself. "It had to be you and now it hurts. Oh, God, it hurts! Why does it hurt so bad?"
Xander gasped and began to claw at his chest frantically. His breathing was laboured and forced.
Spike watched helplessly as the boy began to fade, to pale, to look increasingly desperate, then slowly disappear as if he'd never been there. He began to run as fast as he could.
He reached the hospital a few minutes later, raced up the stairs because the elevator wasn't fast enough and came to a stop as he saw a flash of red hair and bottle blonde together as Willow and Buffy huddled together on the couch in each other's arms.
"Red, Slayer, has there been any change?"
Willow started, blinked, looked up at him with a frown. "Spike? What are you doing--"
"I don't have time for chit chat, Red. I need to know. Within the last week or two, has anything changed?"
Buffy looked at him, suspicion written on her face. "How did you know? You haven't been here. You haven't talked to anyone. Have you?"
Spike growled with frustration and thrust a hand into his already disheveled hair. "Slayer."
Buffy looked at Willow. "He's started to come out of the coma. He's twitched and opened his eyes and stuff but he isn't really responsive and, umm, what'd that doctor say, Will?"
"He's not responsive to normal outside stimuli. Won't blink when light's shone in his eyes. His pupils do dilate but if you snap your fingers in front of his face or touch him he doesn't react. But he's not in that deep coma anymore. It's highly unusual, Dr. Adams said. He doesn't know why he's not awake and alert. The swelling on his brain's down to almost nothing and the MRI's and CAT scans are nearly normal again. They took him off the breathing tube and he's breathing on his own just fine, now."
Spike inhaled and turned on his heel toward the room.
"Hey, where are you going?" Buffy lurched to her feet and followed after him.
Spike opened the door, revealing a pale, thin figure in a hospital gown that made him look even more washed out. His hair was black against the whiteness of his skin, the starkness of the sheet, and far longer than Spike had ever seen. Dark smudges were pronounced beneath his eyes.
Giles sat in a chair in the corner, open book lying across his chest, eyes shut as he slept.
Spike stalked to the side of the bed and pulled Xander's hand into his own. "Xander, you have to wake up. You've got to stop visiting me and staying like this. Wake up, boy."
"What the hell are you doing, Spike?"
"Your boy here's been paying me visits, is what, Slayer. More than a week he's been showing up. Coming to my crypt, scaring the bejeezus out of me and at first I thought it was a nightmare or a hallucination gone wrong. But I don't think so. If he's changed in the last fortnight, it's because he's been coming to me."
"Astral projection?" Willow asked, coming to stand beside a frowning Buffy.
"No ruddy idea, Red. All I know is, he keeps coming to me, asking me to help him. That he's alone and afraid and cold. Doesn't know where he is or how to get back to where he's supposed to be."
"Why would he come to you?" Buffy spoke harshly, "Why not to me or Willow? He doesn't even like you. You don't care anything about him."
Spike looked down at the unresponsive hand tucked in his own. "Don't know. I don't have any answers, Buffy." She started as he used her name, one of the few times he'd used it. "I just know he wants my help. I don't know why I care. Didn't before. But he must've chosen me for some reason, right?"
The girls didn't say anything and all that was heard was Xander's breathing, the beep of the hospital machines and Giles' snoring.
"Wake up, Xander. I'm here. I won't leave. You don't have to worry about that."
Willow looked at him strangely and Buffy refused to look at him at all.
Spike ignored them and continued. "All you have to do is wake up. Open your eyes. Come back."
It seemed like a fruitless task and eventually Buffy and Willow left the room when he had no luck and Giles awoke with a start, saliva dripping out of one corner of his mouth.
"Spike, what are you doing here? Where are Buffy and Willow?"
Spike looked at him from the chair he'd dragged over to the side of the bed. His hand was wrapped loosely around one of Xander's, much the same way it had been for the last hour and a half. "Don't know where they are. Left about forty-five minutes ago. As for me...he called me here, Rupert. Kept visiting me like a ghost. I couldn't ignore it anymore. He's a right stubborn little bastard when he wants to be, even when he's a spirit."
Giles frowned at him and, in a surprising reaction, didn't seem too amazed by what Spike had said. He nodded and stood up, stretched the tight muscles in his shoulders and back. He picked up his book and tucked it under his arm.
"I can't imagine why he'd do what he did but I'm sure it was for a good reason, Spike. I'll leave you to watch over him. I need a cup of coffee...or what they're trying to pass off as coffee."
Giles left him and he dropped his forehead down onto their joined hands.
He was nearly asleep when he heard his name again.
"Xander?" He looked up anxiously, eyes searching the slack face in front of him. He frowned.
"Spike?"
His head whipped around and he stared at Xander as he stood at the end of his own bed, looking wide-eyed at his body. "I-Is that me?"
"Uh, yeah. It is. Why aren't you in your body? Thought you'd've gone back."
"I don't know how. I didn't know I wasn't...well, in it. What the hell is this, Spike?"
"No idea. Your friends don't know either. But your body's been trying to wake up. That's probably the strange pain you've been feeling lately. Know why it won't, now. You're not in there. Hop back in, mate." He pulled the body's limp hand up. "Don't think about it, just let go. Think that's your problem. You're hanging onto something that's not letting you back in. You're keeping yourself like this."
"I'm keeping me in a coma? That makes no sense."
"None of this makes any bleeding sense." Spike rolled his eyes. "Just get in your body, Harris."
Xander sighed and walked around to the opposite side of the hospital bed. He looked down at his own body for a while and then reached out to touch himself.
His fingers passed right through the body and he gasped.
Spike felt something like electricity pass into him from the hand he still held as phantom Xander touched himself. He swallowed and watched.
Xander took a deep breath, sat down on the edge of the bed, then scooted over until he was in the center inside his body. He looked at Spike for a second, then lay back, shut his eyes and disappeared into his body.
The hand in Spike's twitched slightly but Xander didn't wake up.
Part Two
Two hours later, Spike woke up when a hand brushed through his hair and settled on top of his head. He looked up to find two brown eyes boring into him. The hand fell from the top of his head and landed on the bed with a thud, lacking the energy to stay up on its own.
"Xander?"
The boy blinked, cleared his throat weakly. "Yeah," his voice was quiet and hoarse with disuse. "It's me."
"Welcome back."
Xander smiled slightly. "Good to be back. Where was I?"
Spike chuckled. "No fucking idea."
"What happened?"
Spike looked down at Xander's hand, nearly as pale as his own now. "Three months ago you were on your way to work and got in an accident. Car was totaled, you were a mess. You've been in a coma ever since."
"Three months?"
"Yeah, about that."
"I still feel tired."
Spike laughed. "Well, you're entitled, I think. Used up quite a bit of energy trying to heal and all that rot."
"Spike?"
"Yeah?"
Xander nibbled his bottom lip and stared down at the needle in his arm that was feeding him intravenously. "I think I dreamed. Can you dream in a coma? I really think I did."
"Yeah?"
"I dreamed I talked to you."
Spike frowned. "Don't...I don't think it was a dream, Xander. I wasn't asleep when it happened."
Xander's eyes widened. "It wasn't a dream."
"You paid me quite a few visits, mate." Spike shrugged.
Xander blinked up at the ceiling. "That's...weird."
"Tell me about it."
"Spike?"
"What is it?"
"You think you could do something for me?"
"Depends on what it is."
Xander flushed red, a stark contrast with the paleness of his flesh. "Do you think you could get a nurse to take out the catheter? It's uncomfortable."
Spike snickered.
~*~*~*~*~
"So you don't know why you came to me?"
Xander sat in his hospital bed, the back of it reclined upright, nearly fully recovered a week after he'd finally woken from his coma. He'd been trying to convince the doctors to release him so he could go home and sleep in his own bed but he'd failed so far.
They'd told him once he could get up and walk to the bathroom or down the hall and back without keeling over due to his extremely weakened limbs, they'd consider it.
He had yet to accomplish even the simple task of going to the bathroom on his own.
He did look better, however, with colour finally returned to his cheeks that had begun to fill out since the doctors had taken out the feeding tube and he was back on solid foods.
"I don't even know how I did it, Spike, nevermind why."
"Oh."
Xander grimaced as he ate his strawberry yogurt. "This tastes like crap. All this hospital food is killing me. I'm gonna waste away if I don't get something good. I want a pizza, a burger, hell, some chicken wings or one of those onion things. And a soda. I'd kill for a Mountain Dew, Spike."
Spike snorted, eyeing what the hospital cafeteria staff passed off as food. "Don't envy you, mate."
Xander rolled his eyes and pushed his tray away. He drank some orange juice to rid himself of the horrible yogurt taste. "You've visited me every night."
Spike was suddenly wary. "Yeah..."
"Why?"
"What do you mean why?" he exploded. "You're the one that bloody came to me. Annoyed me even without a body. Made me care, you wanker."
Xander's mouth moved into a crooked grin.
Spike straightened and glared down his nose at the boy. "You want I should leave?"
"No. No, I don't want you to leave. Just wondered why you kept coming back. Buffy and Willow haven't even been in this much."
"They've neglected slaying duties and homework since you've been in hospital, pet. Think they want to try and catch up with things."
"Oh." Xander plucked at the shapeless hospital gown. "I want to go home."
"I know."
"I don't think I have a job anymore, do I?"
"You'll find another one."
Xander sighed. "Maybe."
Spike rolled his eyes and smacked the boy gently on the arm. "Don't be so bloody pessimistic. You've been on your back for over three months, it's not your fault."
Xander arched an eyebrow. "Are you defending me?"
"What? No!"
Xander grinned.
Spike scoffed. "Whatever, mate. All I'm saying is...when you get well you can get another job. Something better that pays more so you can get out of that dank hole you call home."
Xander's grin faded. "They didn't come visit, did they?"
Spike didn't have to ask who Xander was referring to. His heart sank. "Not that I know of, pet. I'm sorry."
"It shouldn't surprise me, or hurt, but...it sort of does."
"When I get the chip out I'll kill them for you if you want. Just say the word."
Xander's grin returned, albeit a poor imitation of the last one. "Just because my parents don't love me and don't care doesn't mean you can kill them, Spike."
Spike sniffed and picked up the gooey mess that was supposed to be peach cobbler. He stuck the spork Xander had been using to eat his yogurt in it and took a bite. He grimaced but kept eating anyway.
"Fine. Don't take my offer. See if I care."
~*~*~*~*~
Xander was released just over a week and a half later. He was wobbly and weak and had to be transported out in a wheelchair, which Spike pushed since Xander had been let out at night when the vampire could be there. He was finally free.
He was escorted to Joyce's SUV and packed into the backseat like he was a piece of fine china that would break at the slightest touch.
He grinned and took all the mothering with a grain of salt and was taken not to his basement, but to a building he'd never seen before.
He frowned as Spike picked him up and put him in the wheelchair. Buffy led the way to an elevator and tapped the number six floor button.
He was pushed to a door down the hall, given a key and pushed toward the knob. He pushed it inside curiously, turned it, and the door opened.
"Welcome home, Xander!" Willow squealed ecstatically, scurrying forward to gently hug him.
Spike pushed him inside and took the keys from his hand and dropped them into a dish near the door.
"What's all this?"
"We moved you out of your basement. All your stuff is here and the rent's paid up for a full year. We got a good lease, it's rent controlled and you have all utilities paid."
Xander's mouth fell open. "Wh-what?"
Spike smacked him on the head gently. "Be grateful, pup. We got you out of that shithole. You've got your own place, you'll get a job, and then you'll have a life."
Xander stuck out his tongue and looked from Buffy, to Giles, to Willow, to Joyce. "I don't know what to say. I don't deserve this."
Buffy rolled her eyes, crossed her arms and cocked one hip. "Don't tell us what you do or don't deserve, Xan. You've had bad luck crap all over you and you need something good. We've got a line for a good job, too. Told 'em about you and they said once you're a little stronger you can come for an interview. They'll give you a desk job to start out while you're still healing. Pay's about ten times what any fast food place offers."
Xander's eyes welled up and he blinked quickly. He rubbed his face with a shaking hand. "Thanks, guys," he whispered.
"I think he needs to rest. We should go," Willow said, wiping her eyes. She smiled at Xander and Spike.
And then they left, save for Spike, who unloaded Xander from the chair and put him on the couch in front of the new tv that had satellite cable.
Spike shoved the remote in his hand and went to the kitchen to heat up some of the soup Joyce had brought over. He put some crackers and a soda on the tv tray and placed it in front of the boy in the space between the coffee table and sofa.
Xander ate it all hungrily and passed out shortly thereafter, the excitement of the day having burned out what little energy he'd had.
~*~*~*~*~
Xander woke up in his own bed, not knowing how he'd gotten there, with the need to pee nearly painful. He gingerly sat up and shuffled his way to the bathroom. When he came back out, he noticed something.
He was alone.
He shivered in the sudden cold and walked slowly from the bedroom to the living room. And found Spike fast asleep on the sofa, tv turned down low, remote still in his hand, one bare foot on the floor and the other propped up on the arm of the couch. There was a half-eaten bowl of popcorn and a mug on the coffee table in front of him.
"Spike?"
Spike snorted, woke up abruptly and shot upright. The remote control went flying and clattered when it hit a table and finally landed on the floor several feet away. "What? What? Something wrong, pet?"
Xander grinned. "No. Just wondering if I was alone. I woke up and...nobody was there."
Spike blinked sleep from his eyes and stood up. His t-shirt had ridden up his abdomen and slithered back down with the movement. Xander noticed his duster was hanging on the coat rack by the door.
It felt homey.
"Did you find this place?"
Spike looked at him. "Maybe. Why?"
Xander stared back. "Do you wanna live here with me?"
Spike blinked slowly. "What?"
"Wanna be roomies? It was you that got me the good rent deal and all this stuff..."
"That what you want? A neutered vampire underfoot all the time, making messes and using all the hot water? Not to mention the blood-stained mugs and all. And I have to tell you, mate, when footie's on there will be no switching stations."
Xander's cheek dimpled. "I'll just have to get a tv in my bedroom, won't I?"
Spike smiled slowly. "Well, then. You've got yourself a flatmate."
~*~*~*~*~
It took a little time for Xander to feel up to going to that job interview, but when he finally felt he was ready, he went, nailed it, got the job and was working before he really knew what hit him.
It was as if his life had been completely flipped upside down. It was better than it had ever been. All he had to do was give up three months of his life to get it.
Spike moved in, they became really good friends, they fought, they laughed, they teased each other with crappy movies the other didn't want to watch on movie night. They ate, they shared stories, they became patrol mates when Xander finally felt up to going back to it. They went to the Bronze to play pool and rented films and went to the theatre and to the mall and grocery shopping.
Willow and the others came over from time to time, marvelling at the burgeoning friendship, visiting him and Spike and checking up on him. When they weren't patrolling, they went to the movies together, or went to Giles' or Buffy's house and vegged out on the couch and floor with popcorn and sodas and rented videos or boardgames.
They were all becoming closer than they'd ever been.
He couldn't sleep alone, so Spike slept in his bed with him, waking him from nightmares if they came, wrapping him in his arms when he didn't want to feel alone.
One night, after patrol, they were sticky and covered in slimy demon blood -- it had exploded when Spike had shoved a rebar into its eye; apparently it was severely allergic to iron -- taking turns in the shower when Spike came out of the bathroom in a cloud of hot mist, body covered in only a towel.
They looked at each other, Spike stiffened, hands stopping the rapid movement of rubbing a towel over his hair.
Something changed.
Something was revealed.
"Xander?"
Xander got up from the couch, damp palms wiped off on his sweat pants, and pressed his lips to Spike's.
Spike eased into the kiss; it had been a long time coming, he supposed.
It was gentle and sweet. It was a touching of lips, a light caress of tongues, and their hands coming up to touch as they embraced one another.
After it ended, they stared at each another. Silently, Spike went into what was designated as his bedroom, dressed in a loose pair of sleep pants and a t-shirt and they went into Xander's bedroom, got in bed, and fell into each other's arms, much the way they had for the last several weeks.
When Xander woke up the next morning for work, Spike woke with him, and watched him get ready to leave. When it came time for Xander to go, Spike got out of bed and kissed him good morning, goodbye.
When Xander got home, he showered, tucked himself into the couch in Spike's arms and they watched tv.
Spike pulled the boy on top of him and they kissed, then they went to bed again.
And when Xander got up, it happened all over again until the weekend, when he woke up not having to go to work, turned in Spike's embrace and melted into him with a kiss that heated up his insides.
When they stopped kissing, Spike pushed his hand through the hair that fell across Xander's eyes and said, "I love you."
Xander's eyes shone and he gently moved his lips across Spike's. "I know."
Spike's eyes gleamed. "Got anything to share?"
Xander grinned. "Nope."
Spike flipped them over so that he was on top and tickled him unmercifully. "Give it up, Xander."
Xander giggled and then relaxed when Spike's fingers stopped tickling and began to caress. Spike's body dropped down onto his own and he felt the matching hardness of Spike's erection press into his.
He licked his lips. "I've always loved you, Spike. I think that's why I came to you."
Spike didn't have a response to that, he just began to move his body. For the first time, they moved together, still clothed, and came.
Afterward, Spike lay plastered across Xander's still heaving chest, their clothing having been removed, their skin having been cleaned of semen. Xander's hands curled into his hair, massaged his scalp. He sighed and closed his eyes.
"You won't leave me, will you, Spike?" Xander whispered much as he had when he'd been incorporeal.
"Never," Spike said, equally soft.
Here Endeth the Story
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