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The Sequel to
Reasons For Living
Headfirst
7 Pretending to be Friends
Bored now.
Xander sat in the water. The dark, boring water. There were some random cars he could see the dark. Some skeletons with feet in concrete. Typical stuff.
Spike did this for weeks? No wonder he sunk the first random boat he found. Among other reasons. No. No other reasons. He had no good reason for sinking that boat. Nope. I certainly had nothing to do with it. Things with I didn’t do with Buffy definitely had nothing to do with it. Nope.
Xander unbuckled his seatbelt. The door to the car wouldn’t open. Xander knew from the blackness of the water that it was night time above. He didn’t know what time though, and his watch was ruined by the depth of the water pressure. He scrunched up against the passenger door, the door closest to the bottom, aimed his feet at the driver’s side window and pushed off, breaking the glass. He pushed out through the shattered window and made his way to the surface.
Spike woke slow. The dark around him was the dark of night. He heard the buzz of a silent television in the other room and the solid, sleepy breaths of a person, much closer than another room.
He rolled off his side, stretched his legs out, and turned his head. Riley slept a foot away on his stomach, head turned away from Spike, still dressed except for his feet, which were bare.
Spike hummed lightly as he lay there. Almost content, warm from the room and the body that slept sound beside him. Almost content except for the nagging suggestion of something. Except for the slight gnaw in his stomach. Not hungry. For food, or for snacks. He thought for a moment longer. Sober. ‘M bloody sober. His hum turned into a low rumble into a growl. Events rather effectively numbed by his extended alcoholic episode tumbled through his head and his face shifted out of normal human passing into supernatural vampire rage.
The body next to him thrummed with life and Spike snapped his jaw at Riley. Gotta get outta here. Don’t wanna bite soldier boy. Rather not piss off Buffy that way… Or… Maybe I would.
Spike rose from the bed. Stood and walked through the apartment to the door. Opened it to the chilly Iowa night. Turned back, found Riley’s keys in a coat pocket, left the apartment and closed the door, heard the click as it shut.
Xander staggered out of the surf onto the shore.
He looked over his shoulder, up at the bridge, back to San Francisco. He left the place, walked up to the place where the bridge met the land and followed the highway further out of the city into the darkness, the early darkness as best he could tell. Stuck his thumb out and tossed his soaked shirt to the side of the road.
Shirtless in the dark Xander walked forward. His body lit up every time a car drove by. A trucker blared his horn at Xander and pulled onto the side of the road ahead of Xander. He climbed into the truck, noted the non-human origin of the driver, and sighed.
“You heard of Willliam the Bloody?” Xander said.
“Vampire, right? So?”
“I’m looking for him.”
“You’re not the only one then.”
“How’s that?” Xander said.
“That government unit, that got raided on the Hellmouth a few years back…”
“The Initiative.”
“Yeah, that. Word is, he’s made his way across the country and back, left a bunch a bodies everywhere. Anyway, the government is on him.”
“Whatever, man. The Initiative got shut down. I was there.”
“So. You’re Alexander the Great?”
“What? What did you call me?”
The demon revealed his real face, all horns and mucus, and glanced over at Xander.
“Look, guy, I’ll drive you wherever you want. But the story is William the Bloody and Alexander the Great been tearing up this country seven ways from Sunday. I work for a living Mr. The Great. I don’t want no kinda trouble.”
“Right. So, what’s the rumor, ‘bout where we are?”
“Oh, well I heard you were in Pittsburgh for a week or so. That’s the longest you stayed anywhere. Heard you were in Seattle at some point. All this has been in the last month, y’know. So where you been if you ain’t with Mr. the Bloody?”
“San Francisco.”
“Right, but, how come you don’t know where your boyfriend is?”
“Boyfriend?”
“Well, Mr. the Great, you’re boyfriends aren’t you? Gay-vampire-Bonnie and Clyde?”
“That’s a good one, actually. No, we had some trouble with a Gorgon, it’s kind of a long story.”
“Medusa, huh? That bitch.”
“Yeah, that bitch. Cast me into the desert and Spike into the ocean.”
“Spike? Oh, Mr. the Bloody. Got it.”
“Yeah,” Xander said, “Anyway, she did that, and I did something stupid, and Spike found me doing something stupid, and now he’s in hiding.”
“I don’t know about stupid things you might have done, but I’d say he’s hiding in plain sight. I’d say you’re not looking hard enough. Or maybe you’re looking too hard in the wrong places. I mean, the rumor is, you guys didn’t kill people who didn’t deserve it one way or the other. If he’s out there killing regular folks, I’d say he’s trying to get your attentions.”
Hello to the reading my mind. Don’t.
“Sorry. I forget.”
“I didn’t even think it was possible to read vampire’s minds.” Xander said.
“Uhm, two species can. I’m one of ‘em. Sorry.”
“Just don’t. Where are you headed?”
“Sacramento, then back south.”
“Eh. I need to get to the Hellmouth.”
“Sorry. Out of my way.”
“Fuck it. Drop me at the next stop.”
“No problem, Mr. the Great.”
“Call me Xander.”
“Wow.” The demon’s face shifted back into human form and he blushed. “It’s an honor.”
Riley woke alone. Remembered falling asleep beside Spike, conscious to keep his distance, not to startle the sleeping vampire. He recognized the hurt on the vampire’s face. The kind of hurt that she leaves on someone. He suspected nothing more or less. He didn’t know he should suspect anything else.
The television was loud enough he could make out some words. Riley knew he hadn’t left the sound on and sat up groggy in bed. He stood, pulled down the sleeve that had bunched up his arm, went to the bathroom, peed, came out.
Spike sat in the kitchen in one of two folding chairs around a card table.
“You didn’t have a table,” Spike said.
“So you bought one?”
The vampire held a beer in his hand, but made no move to drink from it. The cap was still on.
“I’ve been pissed for a month straight,” Spike stared at the bottle in his hand, read Riley’s face without looking.
“You’ve done that before, right? When Drus… when another girl messed you up?”
“Right. You pay pretty good attention, don’t you, Finn?”
“Nah.” Riley felt his face flush red.
“You slept beside me.”
“What else was I gonna do?”
“Did you want me to bite you?”
Riley shuddered and Spike was up from the table and in his face before he could register the movement.
“Did you?”
Spike pulled Riley close to him, one arm around his back, the other tilted Riley’s head and exposed his neck, the faded scars.
“Vampire bites never really fade away, do they? I’ve only seen a few bites on people who lived through them. Seen… fewer this close.”
Spike licked Riley’s neck.
“This isn’t why… This isn’t fair, Spike.” Riley said. “You know, have always known, my weaknesses. I don’t know yours anymore. Though I’m guessing it rhymes with huffy.”
Spike pulled his head back. Read Riley’s face as well as he could. The human smelled of fear but his face showed something else, respect, or understanding; Spike couldn’t tell.
“What do you know about the Slayer?”
“That she can mess up a guy’s head.”
“And I’d wager you don’t say her name anymore. Not aloud, not when you’re thinking. Never.”
Riley looked down, away. The television had some overpaid actors pretending to be friends on it.
Spike let go of Riley, went back to his chair. Held the beer in his hand again. The cap stayed on.
“So, you bought me a table?”
“What kind of demon would I be if I bought you a table?”
Riley rolled his eyes and pulled out the other chair, sat down.
“Don’t look at me like that, Soldierette. I found it, right? Didn’t steal it, least not technically.”
“I really want to know. I really do. But I’d rather have a beer or five and go down for the night. Spike, I don’t know what you’ve been up to. I did hear a rumor that you were on the loose. I heard a rumor about bodies, or whatever, that you’ve been leaving behind you. Can you say to your knowledge that’s true?”
“Yeah, I can say to my knowledge. I don’t think I’ve been killing anyone.”
“Fine then. Stay here as long as you want. Talk when you need to.”
“I don’t need to talk to you, Finn. But if you’re going to bed. I’m coming with you.” Spike said.
A wave of arousal drifted across Spike as he said it, and he knew if he wanted his way with Riley Have my way with what had its way with mine… he could have it.
8 The Edge of Realization
The doors opened into a bright courtyard.
Only a few months away from it but the daylight seemed to bleed everything into white and Xander walked into it. The white, the daylight, the courtyard all found themselves focused in Xander.
Daylight for the first time. Daylight came and didn’t take Xander with it. It stayed and watched Xander who stared back amazed. Felt the ridges of his brow. Walked through the bright to a fountain that sprinkled and ran slow in the middle of the courtyard. Walked up to the fountain, looked inside. Saw the ridges of his brow. Saw the demon in him and knew there was no demon.
Xander turned toward the doors he’d come through. Turned to the wall that had been doors. Xander looked back into the fountain and saw nothing but the water and the sky and the bright whiteness reflected there. Xander teetered on the edge of realization and felt it slide away like water though his fingers, through his hair and the light did that. The light fell from the sky funneled through his fingers, through his hair and ran into the fountain until all that was left around Xander was the courtyard and night.
The sky hung starless over Xander. The fountain trickled and ran slow still but without light it looked of nothing. Xander’s eyes focused in the darkness and the sounds around him filtered in, the sounds of anger and rage a hint of fear, the sounds of beasts.
The dark shifted.
Xander watched the walls crumble into liquid and run away from the earth. The air around him changed its texture, beaded up on his skin, in his clothes, in his hair, clung to his form. The air around him changed to water and the courtyard melted into the sky and the world became blacker than it had been and Xander was inundated. Drowned but unencumbered. Sensed the pressure of the water on all sides of him crushing him but for his unnatural strength.
Xander felt something brush past him, felt himself naked, unbound. It brushed past him again. He shivered under the pressure and the tease and floated in the dark surrounded. Light eluded him but he could see, there was no light but there was an image in front of him. A maw gaped at him full of row after row of huge cerated teeth. Despite himself he moved around, dodged the huge jaws as they clamped.
Then he floated away.
The huge mouth, the shark, got smaller and smaller in the distance and in the darkness Xander grew aware, in the pit of his stomach, of a blond head moving along the back of the creature, but he couldn’t place the shape before the image was gone.
3:20 a.m. Iowa time.
“You don’t need to talk, huh?” Riley shifted from his stomach to his back, still dressed despite hours in bed and near sleep. He lifted his arms and crossed his hands behind his head.
3:37 a.m.
“Not to you I don’t.” Spike rolled from his back to his side, faced away from Riley.
3:49 a.m.
“So go to sleep.” Riley smiled in the dark, colored the words through his facial expression. Slight change from sleepy to happy-sleepy.
4:11 a.m.
“You sodding go to sleep.” Spike looked over his shoulder at the dozing but not sleeping former government operative who lay behind him. His words lacked the commitment of their meaning and he knew it.
5:03 a.m.
“Are you still awake?” Riley moaned. One arm dropped from behind his head. His elbow rested against the small of Spike’s back.
5:04 a.m.
“Nocturnal. Getting a bit drowsy now though.” Spike’s words were clipped, short, he pushed backwards, moved Riley’s arm and then scooted forward again, left the arm away from his body; away and not touching him.
“Xander? Xander, sir?”
Xander jumped at the hand that shook his shoulder.
“Hummunuhwhut?” Xander mumbled and his eye twitched. He shivered.
“We’re at the first good stop. We were driving into the dawn, you know? You should get a room. I won’t tell nobody you were in my truck.”
“Thanks…”
“Bobby. Bobby Gujungaranji.”
“Right. Of course, Bobby.” Xander hugged himself, looked out at the twenty dollar a night motel that sat in front of him and looked back at Bobby. “Can I borrow?”
“Okay, so I lied. I got you the room. Paid for two days and one night just ‘cause. You really look like shit Xander. You smell like wet bones.”
Xander smirked. “Thank you so much, Guju. Thank you for the wonderful compliments. And for the room. I am of course, eternally grateful. But I don’t owe you anything, and you won’t come looking for me if you know what’s good for you.” Xander snarled.
Whoa. When I did I get so bitter?
Xander’s smirk stretched into a wicked smile. “And spread the word. Alexander the Great is tracking William the Bloody. Spread the word that Alexander the Great is on the hunt, and he’s fucking hungry.”
Bobby Gujungaranji squeezed as far away from Xander in that moment as he could. Xander reached across the truck’s cab, pulled the room key out of Gujungaranji’s shirt pocket, opened the door, leapt down, turned back to the open cab of the truck. Xander bowed, raised, curtsied, raised and stood up straight. His face and pose shifted from playful to business, the ridges emerged from his brow, and he straightened his shoulders.
A long low growl emerged from Xander’s chest and Bobby Gujungaranji shifted the truck into drive and floored the gas, sped away as fast as he could.
Xander laughed. Tossed the key and caught it, walked toward the motel. Sniffed the air for a man to eat.
Any man.
I am Hen-ery the Eighth I am.
Hen-ery the Eighth I am, I am.
“Damn.”
Spike rolled up until he sat on the side of the bed. Perched there for a moment, ears tuned careful behind him, tuned to the sounds of a Riley well asleep for more than an hour.
Spike felt the sun outside, as he always did. Felt the crackle of atomies soaring and burning, plaguing the dark. He rose from the bed silent and slow. Moved into the living room and the kitchen.
He opened the refrigerator and pulled out a beer and tongues, bodies, fuck.
He shivered, opened the beer, sat down at the table he’d swiped for Riley.
I am Hen-ery the Eighth I am... Bugger this tripe.
He lifted the beer to his lips, poured it down, swallow after swallow, placed the empty bottle back on the table.
He was more tired than he knew. Tired from the binge that had gone on how long? Tired from the anger and the confusion. Tired from fucking Iowa Riley Finn finding him in the middle of his binge.
Tired of not being looked for.
He stood up again, moved back through the living room, stood in the bedroom door. Stared at Riley for a moment, thought about laying down beside him again. Going to sleep in bed with a man who wasn’t Xander.
Xander. Commando Finn has no idea this is about you, you selfish, ungrateful prat. He, of course, thinks this is all about the girl. He doesn’t even know that you and I ‘ave been. What have we been? Galavanting? Navigating? Fucking, even. Bloody shagging. God knows. And god comes into this now? Silly, arrogant prig is god. What’s he know? Look what you’ve made me do Xan. You’ve made me into this. I’m fucking praying for you now. Praying. This isn’t praying. Don’t make me pray.
Spike’s eyelids grew heavy as he stared at Riley. His hands shook, tucked half-into the pockets of his jeans. He cried, without sound, tears bitter as the ocean, on his face.
Riley shook once, moaned, blinked into awakeness, rolled over and fixed his eyes on the vampire in his doorway.
Spike froze.
“I was dreaming. About you. And you and her. And her and me.”
“This isn’t. This isn’t about that.”
“I know. I mean, I think I know.”
“If this is… Ah, I don’t know, Riley. I don’t, effing, know. I want to go home. I want my lover back. I want to kill…”
“Shut up, Spike. Sleep with me.”
And Spike could feel the sunlight, felt it burn the world around him without even leaving a trace. The fading of paint on cars in parking lots. The slow peel and part of earth. Sweat on faces sunburned and loving it.
He could feel all that as he moved to the bed, lay down on his side, his back to Riley Finn, and felt the man’s hot, thick arms move to him, one sliding under his neck, the other up and over his side, hands rested on the bed and the pillows of the bed that were not Spike’s home.
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