Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: G
Disclaimer: I'm not Joss
Summary: A drabble thing, set some time in the Biteverse

All Right


There was a headstone. He hadn’t expected that.

He’d gone to the house first but it was gone, long-since razed and replaced with an office building. So then he’d gone to Highgate Cemetery, where his father had been buried when William was five, because Spike knew she’d always intended to be laid to rest there. And there, beside the stone for Robert H. Pratt, was a matching one for Anne Chambers Pratt. Her brother Thomas must have had it made.

Spike knew the ground below the stone was empty of coffin and corpse. But still he knelt there, and he raised one hand to tentatively stroke the weathered granite. “’T’s all right, Mum,” he said. “Turned out all right in the end.”

He wished he’d thought to bring flowers.

Then he stood and brushed off his trousers and walked away. Xander was waiting silently for him several yards away, looking at Karl Marx’s  tomb. As Spike approached, they put their arms around each others’ waists and began to amble toward the cemetery’s exit.

“You okay, Spike?” Xander asked.

Spike nodded. He was. He truly was.

Xander squeezed him. “Maybe next year I’ll visit Jessica’s grave.”

Spike squashed him back. “If you do, I’ll be there with you.” And then he looked up at the sky, where clouds scudded across a nearly full moon. He grinned. “I’ll wager we could find something to hunt here, pet. Fancy a run?”

Xander stopped, shifted quickly to his other form, and let loose a long, happy howl.

The End

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