I signed up for the
Fractured Fairytale Ficathon but the draw was a bit uneven so I
ended up doing an independent entry. In a way it’s great,
because I dearly love the story of A Christmas Carol, it’s
one of my favorites.
On the other hand it has been a nightmare because I’ve set
myself up to doing something serious, and trying to meld different
concepts and different holiday beliefs into one fic, all the while
trying to make Spike fall in love with Xander. It's been
frustrating to no end, I've been to the point of tears at times and
I've actually ended up with nightmares from this plot. Thank you
Kyrieane
Sukibluefiction
And my Kitty_Poker1 for help and listening to me whine.
Keep
in mind that I have really tried to keep to the spirit, if you
will, of the Christmas Carol so this is not nice and fluffy. At
best I can say that I torture everyone at least once if not more in
this fic. Also, I have completely destroyed Season Five. Glory Who?
Dawn is just a kid, Xander still lives in the basement and Spike
having naughty dreams about a slayer? Never happened.
Rating: NC17
Pairings: Spike/Xander
Spoilers: Season Four, parts of Season Five of BtVS
Warnings: Angst, mental, physical and sexual abuse mentioned,
character death mentioned, and a bit of gore.
Summary: Umm, yeah, it's my version of The Christmas Carol
with Spike and Xander.
Disclaimer: I own nothin of Sunnydale or of the Christmas Carol.
I'm just liberally borrowing from both before I put them back
where they belong.
A Sunnydale Christmas Carol
by
Amejisuto
Part One
Penn was dead. Spike was sure, the source he had in L.A. was too
scared of him to lie. Penn had met his final death, at the hands of
his Sire no less. Angel, once known as Angelus, the Scourge of
Europe, had killed his own Childe with, Spike figured, little
remorse. After all, the brooding vampire with a soul had even
killed his own Sire. What was one more death in his family after
having abandoned them? Penn was dead, a pile of dust left in some
warehouse in the City of Angels some months ago and he was only now
getting word of it.
Penn had been the older brother that Spike admired but never liked,
hunting with the vampire when Angelus was too busy with Darla and
Drusilla to care about what the two males did in his absence. A
hundred years older than young William, who had clawed through the
dirt to emerge from his grave at the whim of his mad Sire.
Drusilla was too insane to teach him, and, while Spike had always
enjoyed Angelus’ lovely lessons that always involved pain and
his own blood, he had enjoyed Penn’s lectures more. It was
Penn that encouraged his revenge on the dandies that had made fun
of him as a mortal, Penn that taught him the value of striking
quickly, killing his prey efficiently.
Okay, so he didn’t always follow that rule but he still knew
it. Spike stomped through the graveyard, looking for something,
anything to fight. He’d always thought that, even when worse
came to worst, Angel would never kill one of his Childer.
Angst over them, sure. Brood and wear sackcloth and cover his face
in ashes. But while minions were a dime a dozen and no smarter than
the average tree, a Childe and his Maker had a special bond.
The knowledge that Angel could do away with one of his own made the
demon inside him howl and rage.
"Spike! Wait up!" The panting mortal trailed behind him.
"Hurry up, Harris! Haven’t got all bloody night, you
know."
"Fuck! What crawled up your ass and died? You’re even
grouchier than usual, and that’s saying something."
"None of your fucking business, whelp! Move your arse. Time is
money and there are things to kill."
"Spike, it's Christmas Eve. Even the vamps have gone home to their
little vamp families. Give up, let’s head back to the Magic
Shop and meet up with the others. I’ll even spring for the
hot chocolate."
"Leave off with your Christmas crap, Harris, I don’t need to
hear it!"
"Brrr! You’re just full of the Christmas Spirit, aren’t
you Blondie? All warm and fuzzy."
"I’ve got your warm and fuzzy right here, Harris." Spike
said, as he flipped the younger man a rude hand gesture.
Instead of getting mad, Xander just laughed and it gave Spike a
bitter taste in his mouth. He couldn’t even frighten the
least of the Scoobies anymore; he was weak, chipped, and constantly
starving.
Used to be his name struck fear in the hearts of demon and human
alike. Well, those humans smart enough to know what was what in the
world. People would run from him in terror, either that or crawl at
his feet in supplication. He had been a true Master, with his Dark
Princess at his side and minions fawning all over him for a bit of
praise.
Now here he was, stuck in bloody Southern California. Hardly ever a
gloomy day to let him roam the streets without fear from the sun,
no minions, no Drusilla, only a motley band of children barely
older than his fucking shoes and their two parental figures.
His unlife sucked.
He discarded the one cigarette he’d smoked to the end and lit
another, barely pausing long enough for the human to catch up and
steadfastly ignoring the prattle coming from the dark man following
behind him.
Finally he called it a night. Whatever may have been lurking about
in the shadows for him to kill had been warned away by
Harris’s chattering. He didn’t even know why the man
had volunteered to go on patrol if he was so excited about his
holiday. Spike wanted none of it! What demon did want peace on
earth, for fuck’s sake?
The Magic Box was well lit despite the lateness of the hour and
closed sign. The shop glowed to his sharp night eyes to almost the
point of pain, what with tree lights and candles in just about
every available nook and cranny.
"Spike! Merry Christmas, Spike!"
"Keep your Christmas to yourself Bit, I’ll have none of
it."
The teenager put her hands on her hips and gave a pout he was sure
she’d learned from Dru, despite never being around the
vampire that much.
"Come on Spike, it’s a holiday!"
"For you fluffy lot maybe, not me!"
Xander came up and threw an arm around Spike’s shoulder,
which the vampire immediately shrugged off. "Don’t mind him
Dawnster, he’s just being the Grinch this year. I have enough
of the Christmas spirit for both of us!"
"Shove off! Don’t know what you lot have to be so happy
about! You-" Spike pointed at Buffy, "your soldier git was keeping
time with vamps and left you in the lurch! Watcher here has been
working his fingers to the bone since demon girl left Mr. Holiday
Spirit here all on his lonesome in his bloody parents' basement.
The witches are off on their own and not a one of you get paid for
this saving the world business you do so none of you have two pence
to rub together and yet you’ve all been running around trying
to buy anything you can get your grubby little hands on! So tell me
what in the bloody hell there is to be excited about!"
Part of him hated the words the moment they left his mouth.
Dawn’s eyes shimmered and while he might hate the others with
a passion he had a soft spot for the girl. Plus it was always a
treat to act nice to her, made the Slayer’s ears steam.
He wasn’t going to let up, though. He didn’t want their
fucking sympathy or their charity. Besides, they’d stake him
given half the chance, each and every one of them. Just like
he’d kill them. It was nature, the fucked up circle of life.
Vampires killed humans and the white hats killed vampires.
Which was why Penn was a pile of dust in the rubbish bin.
"Because, Fang, Christmas is supposed to be the one night of the
year when you forget all your problems and spend time with the
people that are important to you." At Red’s glare the whelp
started talking even faster, if that was possible. "Or Yule, or
Kwanzaa, or Hanukah, whatever you want to call it. Look, no matter
the name..." a reasonable glare was turned back on the little
witch. "No matter the name, it’s the feelings that
count."
"And you are using that to convince me to join you in your Fa La
La-ing? Not bloody likely, people. You lot hate me just as much as
I hate you."
He turned and walked into the night, slamming the door as he left.
The sound of glass shattering covered the sound of one person
protesting his last statement.
"But I don’t hate you, Spike…"
****
He would have thought he’d have a better chance without that
pesky human following him around but still Spike couldn’t
find anything to get into a fight with. He did manage to scare the
wallet off some college boy and ended up at The Alibi just as
Willie was closing up.
"Wait a minute mate, want some Jack."
"Oh! Spike! Sorry Spike, but I’ve locked up. Heading home
early for the holiday. Catch you day after tomorrow, all
right?"
"Not bloody all right. Every single fucking store has closed up
shop early just for one holiday. Can’t even find a poker game
going on. So open up and get me some booze else I’m gonna
come back and kill every single one of your customers and
you’ll be out of business!"
"But…"
"No buts, else you’re losing patrons the hard way."
Finally he got three bottles of Jack and a couple of quarts of
human blood. Silly git expected him to pay regular price too but
Spike just threw the human a twenty and left.
"Jeeze. What a Scrooge!"
****
It was well after nine at night and for once all the streets of
Sunnydale were deserted. For Southern California the night air was
colder than the norm. The sky was overcast and it seemed as if the
clouds were soaking up the ambient light, making the night darker
than it should be.
Houses he passed had lights in windows, displays, even artificial
snow sprayed on artificial trees. The parts of town he walked
through looked like pictures out of the Saturday Evening Post and
made him snarl in the back of his throat.
A mile away from the crypt he opened one of the bottles of Jack and
started drinking. By the time he’d reached his pitiful excuse
of a home he was down to the last bottle of booze and only one
quart of blood. The cemetery was dark and he moved through the
headstones silently. Just as he reached the door to his crypt he
thought he heard something and stopped to look around.
Nothing. Not the sound of insects, or dogs barking in the distance,
or even the sounds of humans from the apartment building three
blocks way. For once it actually was as silent as a graveyard.
Spike felt like he was being watched but could find nothing.
He turned slowly, looking into every shadow, every nook and cranny.
Despite the fact that he found nothing, the hair on the back of his
neck slowly raised and he actually shivered.
Finally his eyes came to rest on the angel that topped a monument
next to his crypt. It usually was a cherubic looking thing,
protecting some child’s grave.
But tonight, tonight it looked like Penn might have looked if he
had wings, but the look on his face was so sad that Spike took an
involuntary breath. He could nearly count the hairs on his head and
saw the small scar on his neck where Angelus had marked him.
"Fuck!"
When he looked again it was just an angel.
"Bloody hell." This is what brooding got you, Spike told himself.
Seeing things in the bloody statues. He went inside his crypt and
pulled the door shut. He’d paid a demon who was handy with
tools to put a sliding lock on the door and he made sure it was
secure. He could have asked the whelp to do it, but he really
doubted if Harris would have liked the reason for it. Spike was
tired of Buffy just waltzing into his home as if the girl owned the
place.
He lit a few candles and threw himself into the second hand
recliner and flipped on the small television. He had a small amount
of electricity and water stolen from the city, enough to run a
telly and a few other things and give him water to wash up in.
Really, it was all he needed.
He spent the next few hours finishing his blood and Jack and had
moved onto the cheap whiskey he had stashed in his crypt for a
sunny day. This was certainly it. He’d drink it all and have
a proper wake for Penn. The fact that there was nothing to kill and
the bloody telly had nothing but soporific shows about the season
added to his boredom and his alcohol intake.
He must have fallen asleep. All he knew was that suddenly the sound
on the television went up and he swore at it. "Fucking commercials,
turning the sound all the way up! Sodding…"
Spike tried the remote control, but it wasn’t working. If
anything, pressing the buttons only made it worse because the
channels started flipping faster and faster, the sound level rising
till he was forced to cover his ears as he groped on the floor for
the cord to pull the plug from the wall. Anything to get it to shut
the hell up.
Blessed silence.
After the ringing left his ears Spike realized it was completely
silent, as it had been earlier that night. The hairs on the back of
his neck rose once again as he heard ever so faintly the sound of
footsteps.
"What the fuck?" The problem was that the footsteps weren’t
coming from the outside of his crypt but from the lower floor,
where his makeshift bedroom was. If anyone had been down there he
would have heard them earlier so Spike assumed they had come in
through the sewers while the telly was playing with him.
He grabbed a stake and stood in the corner of the room, waiting.
The candles in the room flared before being blown out by some wind
that he couldn’t even feel and he growled low in his
throat.
"Nice to see you haven’t gotten soft, little brother."
"Bloody fuck!" Spike spun around, peering through the darkness.
"Over here, young William."
He turned to face his ratty overstuffed chair. There, sitting in
his place was the very person he had been admittedly brooding
about. Penn.
"Fucking hell, I’d heard you were dead."
The figure smirked at him. "I can assure you, William, that I
am."
Spike laughed. "I meant the dusty kind of dead, you git, not our
normal kind of dead. I’d heard Peaches got it into his
overly-gelled head to turn against his family."
Blue eyes crinkled at the corners as if he was laughing at a joke.
"This time, young Wil, the reports of my death were not
exaggerated, to misquote Mr. Clemens. I did indeed meet my dusty
death at Angelus’s door. He really has taken his Champion of
the People, quest for redemption deal quite seriously, hasn’t
he?"
Spike stood in shock, jaw working furiously to keep from
falling.
"What? No words of sympathy for me? At the very least, I’d
say, you could wish me luck in Hades. It isn’t quite as hot
as I had been led to believe in my youth. Not to say that it
is…pleasant. No, not in the least bit, just not what
I’d been told in the Sunday sermons when I was a lad."
"I’m trying to figure out if you’re something the
fucking Hellmouth spawned or if the blood I got from Willie’s
was from a crack addict, which would mean I’d have to figure
out how to rip the spine from the little wanker."
Penn folded his hands in his lap and crossed his legs. "I am
neither, although the thought of you drinking blood provided by
anyone called Willie is quite amusing. I am…a messenger of
sorts. Someone has petitioned the Powers That Be on your behalf and
I have been drafted in to explain things to you. Evidently Miss
Edith was busy."
Spike reached into the duster he had left on the stone coffin and
dug out his lighter and cigarettes. He light one up, taking a long
drag as he looked at his companion. "Here, catch mate."
The pack of cigarettes was thrown in Penn’s direction, and
fell through his open hands. Not between, but through them.
"I do believe I explained that I am a ghost, William. I am unable
to touch anything of this world, no matter how I might try."
Spike thought about this as he blew out smoke in a steady stream.
"Well, that’s just got to suck when you want to change the
bloody channel on the telly, doesn’t it? So, you’ve got
a message for me? Don’t leave me hanging."
"It’s not quite that simple, I’m afraid. You, William
the Bloody, have been given a unique opportunity and yet you are
throwing it away. Yes, that small piece of ceramic and wires in
your admittedly thick skull is the bane of your existence and good
health, but you haven’t tried to use it to your advantage.
You still refuse to be more than what Angelus forced upon you over
a hundred years ago."
"Advantage? I can’t eat, can’t hunt, and I starve all
the bloody time! What the hell kind of advantage is that?"
Penn frowned and gave that condescending clucking noise that had
always driven Spike crazy and he wondered if he’d fall
through the spirit if he tried to hit him.
"You have been given the opportunity to break free of the insanity
of the Aurelius line. Something I too was given once I left
Angelus’ and Darla’s influence. Now I pay the price for
not taking that chance."
Spike frowned. "Did soul boy hit you on the head a few times before
he staked you? That made less sense that what usually comes out of
your mouth."
"Please, William, do not act as if you don’t have a brain
between your ears. You forget that I have known you from the time
you clawed out of the grave and I know just how smart you truly
are. Despite what our dear Angelus beat into our heads, vampires
are a natural part of the world. Every herd animal needs its
predators or else they overpopulate. The Master and his Childer
took it to extremes, though, starting long before you or I were
ever conceived of. Most vampires now are brutes, idiot minions who
should have never been made. We have lost our natural place in the
order of nature, Wil, yet because of your curse you have been given
a chance to…unlearn, if you will, all those lessons Angelus
and Darla forced into your young fledgling head."
Spike frowned and found himself nearly crushing the cigarette
in-between his fingers. "What the sodding hell are you going on
about?"
Penn sighed. "You’ve not been using the wits the deities gave
you, little brother. I would say you’ve been with our dear
Drusilla too long if it wasn’t for the fact that she’s
gone on her merry way. You, Spike, are being given the chance to
see that not all vampires have to be the brutes that Angelus was,
and that not all humans are, as you so quaintly put it, happy meals
on legs. I had that chance once, not long after Angelus was
reunited with his soul, and I disregarded it. Now I pay the
price."
Penn stood and his appearance changed. What looked to be barbed
wire twined around his body, the barbs piercing his flesh, even
through his arm. He looked as if he’d spent hours being
tortured; bruises and cuts with blood dripped off his wounds only
to disappear before it hit the floor.
His eyes were both hollow yet Spike could tell Penn was still able
to see, and bloody tears flowed down his face. The wound in his
chest where Angel had dusted him was still there, and it seemed as
if darkness itself was leaking from the ghost.
Worst of all were the obvious signs of decay and death. Small bugs
infested Penn’s body, but he still had enough awareness to
know what was happening to him.
"This is your future, William, if you do not take this chance.
I’m being punished, not for being a vampire, but for not
thinking for myself and letting others do it for me. For not
learning my lessons and acting as nature intended me to. If I had
not tried to be everything Angelus wanted of me I would never have
been stalking women in L.A. and doing something as foolish as
leaving a signature; no one would have found out and Angel would
never have dusted me."
Penn walked closer and Spike froze. There was no scent of blood but
he could smell pain, terrible pain coming from Penn himself. Penn
made as if to grab him and Spike was chagrined to find he actually
flinched.
"The worst of it is, I killed the one and only being on this earth
who tried to help me be more than I was. I learned the lesson of
compassion for others entirely too late William, but someone thinks
it is not yet too late for you. To that end you will be visited by
three Spirits…"
Spike found himself laughing, but it had a slightly hysterical edge
to it. "I fell asleep, didn’t I? Fell asleep watching A
bloody Christmas Carol and now I get to go see Tiny Tim, is that
it?"
Penn changed into his true face and roared. "This is no joke,
William! Your miserable little life actually affects others in this
mortal realm, someone actually gives a shit about you and yet you
are willing to throw it away in the name of pride! This is your
last chance to find some sort of contentment in this world! If it
were up to me I’d let you rot with a choke chain around your
neck but it is not! Be ready for the first spirit and take your
head out of your ass and listen!"
With that the television came back to life at full volume, even
though Spike clearly remembered pulling the plug from the socket.
His head whipped around at the unexpected sound and when he turned
back he was alone.
"Fuck. I’m gonna kill that bastard Willie. And the ponce that
programmed this sodding holiday telly, even if I have to wait
years. Sodding druggies donating blood." Spike was convinced what
had happened had been a reaction to bad blood, bad booze or too
much time brooding. Either way, he put it out of his mind. He sat
back down in front of the television and flipped around the dial
until he fell asleep.
*****
"Wake up! I was told you knew I was coming and you’d be
ready! Why are you sleeping anyway? It’s night-time and
you’re a vamp! Come on, let’s go!!"
"What the fuck?" Spike blearily opened his eyes. There in front of
him was a young girl. She reminded him of Dawn a bit, but she had
bright green eyes and a shock of auburn hair that fell into her
face. She was dressed in a white gown tied by a silver cord and had
a silver bell on a chain around her neck. "Who the hell are you,
little girl?"
She snorted, and flipped her hair out of the way. "I’m older
than you think, Bleach for Brains, I am one of the Spirits that
have been called on to help you. Now come on! It takes a while to
view a person’s past and you’ve got more than one
person’s to see!"
"I thought you were supposed to show me my past?" Spike
sputtered, as the dainty hand hauled him unwillingly from his chair
before he knew what was happening.
"Usually yes, but, you see, what you need to learn is about humans,
therefore you get to watch some of your little friends’ pasts
instead. Thank the Powers, because I’ve seen what you and
your loony ex did a few years ago and that even grossed me out and,
believe me, I’ve seen a lot!"
She lifted up her bell, letting it ring. Spike suddenly felt the
world shift around him and he turned.
There was a little boy in short pants being dragged by an older man
who looked like the Watcher. The boy was crying, big tears running
down his face and his breath hitched. Spike figured he
couldn’t have been more than six years old.
"But…but I just wanted an airplane from Father Christmas! And
he asked! Why couldn’t I get one? I want to fly!"
The man shook the child until his teeth rattled. "Because you are
going to be a Watcher, Rupert, you have no time for your silly
little fantasies. You should have asked for something more
practical, something to do with your studies. Now I’m a
laughingstock in front of the Council, thanks to you! No Christmas
dinner for you, young man! Go to bed and think about what
you’ve done!"
The bell rang again and the scene shifted. A little girl with pale
skin and red hair. Spike could tell it was little Willow. He knew
that the Wiccan had started out Jewish, but when he looked around
he found no Menorah or gelt or anything to celebrate with. It
looked depressingly normal.
Just then what were obviously her parents came into the room.
"Now be a good little girl and do all your homework. We’ll be
back around ten." The mother was absently primping in front of the
mirror as the father left the house.
"I don’t like being alone Mommy, can’t Jesse or Xander
come over to play? Or…or we could all go to Jesse’s
house. His Mommy make cookies and they have candles and
everything!"
Her mother frowned. "Now, Willow, you know how we feel about the
over-commercialization of the holidays. It’s not good for
young minds like yours. Just do your homework and go to bed."
With that she left, not even looking back at the sad face in the
window.
Spike turned to the Spirit before she could ring her bell again.
"What the fuck? What is this supposed to teach me?"
The Spirit pulled her hair out of her eyes and then looked at Spike
as if he was stupid. "Okay, your main problem is the fact that even
though Darla and Angelus were idiots you still believe half the
crap they told you. The little mortals you’ve been hanging
around with know about that, been through it themselves but they
don’t let that change who they are."
Spike snorted and absently patted his pockets for his cigarettes.
"I really doubt any human could get as bad as Angelus in a snit, so
I don’t see the point. And you left me without my smokes,
little girl! Take us back."
"Nuh-uh, William, no can do. Now stop grouching and
watch."
"Silly bint, what can I learn from humans?"
Suddenly there was an aura around the young spirit. "I said
WATCH!"
Spike shrank back from the brightness. "Watch, sure, I’ll
just be watching now."
And watch he did. He watched as the Slayer and her little sister
huddled under the covers as their parents argued and fought, and as
the father all but said he never wanted children in the first
place. Dawn was biting her lips as she looked up at her sister.
"Buffy? Why doesn’t he want to spend time with us?"
"I don’t know, Dawnie, I don’t know."
The Spirit’s bell rang again and he watched as Tara was
beaten not only by her Father but by her brother, just because she
was reading her mother’s Book of Shadows for the Solstice.
They were trying to "beat the evil out of her" and Spike snorted.
He knew evil, and Glinda witch didn’t have an evil bone in
her body.
He watched other scenes of the humans’ holidays. Willow being
left at home most of the time, Tara’s abuse at her
family’s hands, Giles being forced into a calling he
didn’t want. Even the Slayer’s mother, Joyce, had her
share of bad memories. The woman came from a broken home herself
and it hurt her that her marriage had ended and her children were
going through the same.
The Spirit rang the bell again, but this time Spike found himself
on the street instead of in someone’s home. He wouldn’t
admit it but what he’d seen had affected him to a certain
degree. He’d always thought the Slayer and her little friends
had an easy life; the way they acted you’d think they
didn’t have a care in the world
"One last person to see, Spike, but I hope you’re watching. I
saved the best, well actually the worst, for last."
Spike looked at the girl. "Just how much more do I have to look
at?"
She frowned, looking serious. "Too much, William, Childe of
Angelus. More than most humans can bear. Now watch."
The door to one of the houses on the street they were on flew open.
A man came storming out of the house and broke off one of the
thinner branches of a tree in the yard.
"I’ll teach you to smart mouth me, boy! We’ll see how
well you learn your lesson!"
Spike shivered. Despite the difference in accent, the tone the man
spoke in reminded him of Angelus in one of his drunken rages.
*****
"Follow and watch." The Spirit led the way up the steps but Spike
found he was reluctant to do as she asked. He knew this was the
Harris house, and remembered the drunken fights he’d overhear
in the basement. He knew that Xander’s parents weren’t
the greatest; but the way the Spirit was acting made him
apprehensive.
Inside, the small form of what was clearly a young Xander was being
held down on the kitchen table by one of his father’s strong
arms as the other wielded the switch. As Spike watched, marks were
placed on the boy’s back, buttocks and thighs. All the while
the adult was swearing at the child, about how the boy wasn’t
grateful enough for what he had.
Spike watched at the little boy cried and found himself growling
and in his true face. Sure, Xander mouthed off. Hell, it was
fucking annoying as shit at times, but with him around there were
very few uncomfortable silences. And he was surprisingly quick
witted at times, which was amazing considering his father was even
now banging his small head on the oak it was lying on.
"Are you watching, William, Childe of Angelus?"
"Yeah. S’not like I can do anything else, is there?"
Spike’s tone was arrogant.
The Spirit turned and looked at him, a sad expression on her face.
"Would you actually do anything if you had the power? Show that you
gave a damn about someone other than yourself?"
Spike looked away from her all together too wise gaze. "Dunno. It
depends…"
"On what the boy could do for you? Or the fact that the father is
one human the world would be better without? Or would you have
killed the Father and taken sport in the child’s pain?
Remember, I am Truth, I have seen into your heart many times over
the years." The silver bell was lifted again. "We shall see more of
your young friend’s Christmas holidays."
Spike toed at the ground absently. "He’s not my friend."
"Is that his fault, or yours?"
"It’s just how things are."
The Spirit shot him a look of annoyance and rang the bell.
"Don’t be a moron, watch. Don’t make me tell you
again."
Spike fell silent and was a silent witness to many of
Xander’s holidays. He saw everything from mental abuse out
and out physical abuse. Over the years the boy was ignored, beaten,
starved and Spike had an idea that he was even sexually abused.
That he never saw, and he found himself glad. He’d had enough
of that over 100 years ago.
This year was not long after that time he’d kidnapped the boy
in a boy to get his dark goddess back. He knew because he was
watching as the boy packed a duffle bag in his room while swearing
all the time.
"Stupid bleached menace of a vampire, giving me a head wound and
locking me up with Wills. If he hadn’t messed us up, we would
have never kissed in front of Cordy and Oz! Stupid Deadboy, making
Buffy go all silly over him. Stupid parents, fighting." He
collapsed on the bed. "Stupid me for thinking that any of them
would care."
Suddenly the sound of something breaking could be heard from
downstairs and Xander jumped from the bed. "Shit!"
"Sad, isn’t it?"
Spike looked up from his position by the window. He had been
watching as Xander scrambled down the side of the house and started
making a sort of camp in the back yard, just as the boy had done
for so many holidays. "What’s sad?"
"Oh, the fact that he knows he can be killed out there, but finds
more peace under the stars than in a warm bed?"
"Yeah, well…" To tell the truth, Spike wasn’t sure what
to say. He growled low in his chest at the thought that he actually
could understand why Xander would rather be outside. He remembered
nights when Darla and Angelus would fight and then turn their anger
on Drusilla and himself.
The Spirit waved her hand and they were in the back yard. "The sad
thing is that more than any other night it is dangerous for him to
be here. The First Evil’s minions are in town, plotting
against Angel to free him of his soul. Dark forces are at work."
She turned to him with a smirk on her youthful face. "Of course you
know he survived, so we can go now. Our time is up!"
"But…but! You’re just gonna leave him there?"
She looked at him in disdain. "Why not? You would. And it’s
not like it’s happening now. You can never change the past,
or predict the future. It’s what you do in the present that
counts."
Part Two
Authors Note: I just want to mention that I twisted a line from my very favorite version of the Christmas Carol. I have just about every version on tape from Mr. Magoo to George C. Scott and Patrick Stewart, but this one like was too good not to...well not borrow so much as take inspiration from. Virtual chocolate to the person who guesses which line it is! LOL
The silver bell rang again and Spike once more found himself in a kitchen, but it was one he’d never seen before.
“Oh good, you’re here. And not a moment too soon!” A plump middle-aged woman with short brown hair came into the kitchen. She was wearing blue jeans and a red sweater, but worst of all was the butcher’s apron; it had a picture of a reindeer with a flashing nose on it.
“Yeah, I’m here but I don’t know where the fuck I am. Where’s here?”
“Language, William! I swear, what some people get away with these days.” The woman, obviously a Spirit, bustled around the kitchen, getting out trays of biscuits and candies. “Here, bring these into the dining room please, and this.” Spike was handed two trays and he took them in his shock. “Now come along William, there is much to do today.”
He was lead to a dining room that already had food of all kinds set out in a buffet. Turkey, ham, roast beef, yams and green beans, and a whole table full of desserts and cakes.
The walls were decorated with fresh evergreens, holly and ivy and sprigs of mistletoe. Poinsettias and candles decorated the tables, but on the main table stood a tall candle, in a golden holder. There was a tree decorated with lights and bows and glittering baubles.
“What the ...? Who the hell lives here, that Martha Stewart bint?”
The Spirit chuckled warmly. “No, but close. I am Christmas Now. These are…I supposed the closest thing I would say is that this represents the fruit of human kindness. It’s really quite nourishing, even for one such as yourself. You should try it sometime.”
Spike snorted and leaned against one of the few bare spots on the walls. “Fruit of human kindness? Not bloody likely! M’not human, remember?”
“Aah, but being humane has nothing to do with being human, or even mortal. How many times were you invited to share yesterday and you only turned your friends down? And why? Because you have some sort of reputation to maintain?” The Spirit looked at him sadly, shaking her head.
“Well, we’d best be off, there are only so many hours in one day.” The Spirit walked to the main table and picked up the giant candle. “Let’s go.”
With a wave of her hand they appeared in a small room, that Spike recognized as one of the dorm rooms. A small tree stood on the desk, decorated with lights, little miniature suns and reindeer. Spike could smell incense in the air, cinnamon and bayberry and he figured it was the witch’s room at college.
Just then the door opened and proved him right. Both Willow and Tara came in the room, looking happy but tired.
“Goddess! I hate that we had finals on the Solstice, but that was fun!! Sleepy now, nap please?” Willow flopped down on the bed with her coat on and Tara sat delicately beside her.
“Come on Willow, it’s not like we did the traditional staying up all night, we just got up early to watch the sun rise. Besides, we’ve got the day planned with Dawnie, her Mom and the rest of the gang.”
Willow suddenly sat up. “Ooh you’re right! And I’ve got to find my Grandmother Rosa’s recipe book. I’ve got to get there early to make the applesauce and get everything ready for the latkes!”
Spike looked on as the girl who had been so tired before jumped up and dug through the closet while her shy lover laughed. Their happiness was evident. The Spirit of Now simply smiled on benevolently and the flame on her candle seemed to flare.
“It’s so nice to see the younger people of this generation learning from their elders and honoring both the past and present. Take your young friend Willow. She has honored the Rebirth of the Sun, and is making traditional Hanukkah treats for her friends and joining their Christmas dinner. It’s so nice when my children get along; I just wish people everywhere would.”
Spike snorted and sat down on an empty seat as he watched Tara and Willow gather what they needed to go to Buffy’s house. “Not bloody likely! It’s as much human nature to fight and squabble as it is a demon's.”
“Language, William!! Yes, it’s true it’s humanity’s nature to fight, but it’s mainly sibling rivalry gone amok, poor dears. This is a good example of people coming together as family despite their differences.”
Willow bounced around the room as Tara gathered their coats and bags. “Okay, I have the recipe book and Mrs. Summers let me store all the ingredients at their place yesterday! So…I guess we’re ready to go!”
Just then the phone rang and Tara turned to answer it. “You go on Willow, it’s probably Buffy and if you two get on the phone together we’ll be late. I’ll get it and catch up with you.”
The blond witch kissed her lover and Willow bounced out the door as she answered the phone. “Hello?”
“It’s about time you answered the goddamned phone! I expected you to at least try to call your family on Christmas! Now, Tara…we’ve talked about this and know that you were under the influence of those weird friends of yours. If you come home now, we’ll forgive you.”
Spike snorted. He remembered helping the little witch in one of his poofier moments. There was something about her family that stuck in his craw. Tara drew in a sharp breath and closed her eyes as her fingers gripped the phone. He could almost hear her teeth grinding.
Tara slowly opened her eyes and spoke into the phone. “I’m sorry, I have to go now. I’m celebrating the holiday with my family.”
The phone was slowly hung up, even though Spike could hear the swearing coming from the receiver. Tara straightened her hair, took a deep breath and put a smile on her face as she left her dorm.
“Well. I’m glad she made her choice. That awful family of hers has been bothering her for too long, according to my older Sister. Still, it had to be hard on her, to break the chains her family had trapped her in, don’t you think, William?”
Spike snarled. “Yeah, yeah, I get it, all right? Don’t need to hit me upside the head with a 2x4 to get the idea across!”
The Spirit actually laughed as with a wave of her hand they were transported to the Summers’ home. “Actually, this is a cosmic 2x4 to the head. You’ve been ignoring any and all other…suggestions from anyone for quite some time now. The Powers had just about given up on you, young man; be glad someone interceded on your behalf.”
Before Spike could answer Joyce Summers walked into the kitchen, humming slightly under her breath. The room smelled of spices and rising bread and even Spike had to admit that there was a delicious, warm sort of feeling in the room. The Spirit's candle glowed even brighter, as if it was putting out an aura of comfort.
Spike turned when he heard what sounded like a heard of elephants running into the room and fought back a smile. Buffy and Dawn were both fighting to see who could get into the kitchen first and had gotten stuck in the door.
“I was first, move it shrimp!”
“Nuh-uh Buffy, I made it down the stairs first, no fair using you slayerness to beat me!”
Joyce turned and laughed. “Calm down girls. Buffy, step back and let Dawn through. It’s not a race, we have all day together.”
There was a scramble while food was prepared and breakfast eaten. Dawn had turned on the radio and it was playing horrible cheesy holiday music. The doorbell rang and Dawn immediately jumped up. “I’ll get it!!”
Joyce smiled. “That will be Willow and Tara, I think. Mr. Giles and Xander said they’d be by later. And you made sure to invite Spike, I hope?”
Spike was shocked to hear it. He knew that Dawn and Xander had invited him but not the Slayer’s mother. He’d always admired the woman; it took some brass balls to knock a master vampire upside the head with an axe. He’d visited her many times at night to make sure no fledges gave her problems or just to talk.
The Spirit seemed to feel his surprise. “Yes, you were invited to join these people many times. Why did you feel you weren’t welcome?”
“Didn’t want pity, or charity. It’s bad enough I help them to get blood.”
“Perhaps it is because you will not accept anything else because of your pride?”
As they were talking Buffy had been fussing in the background and Joyce stopped her with a look. “Buffy, be nice! Why wouldn’t you want Spike to come? He's friends with Dawn and has protected her, and he’s always polite when he comes over for cocoa.”
“You don’t know how many wiggins it gives me to know that you two bond over cocoa. It’s just wrong!! He’s a vampire! He’s evil, and mean and grouchy and…and he dresses badly!”
“Oi! Nothing wrong with my looks, Slayer! Least I don’t follow the crowd, trying to look like the latest star teenybopper on the telly!”
The Spirit slapped at his arm. “Hush! I want to hear!”
“Elizabeth Anne Summers!! It’s Christmas Day and I will not have you saying nasty things about people. If Spike does change his mind and choose to come you will be polite! I bet if you ever looked closely and got to know the real person that Spike is you might find a good man inside.”
Buffy huffed for a moment. “Okay, I’ll be nice! But I expect extra dressing for it!”
“Of course, dear.”
Spike had heard it all and found a perverse pleasure that the Slayer’s Mum was standing up for him. Plus the little speech had left him snickering. “Elizabeth Anne! That’s too good, got to remember that one!”
“Buffy!! Come on! Willow and Tara are here!” Dawn’s voice called from the living room.
“Just a sec!” Buffy turned to her mother and gave her a big hug. “Thanks Mom, for everything you do for us. Thanks for Dad’s gift too.”
Joyce gave her daughter a smile. “You knew?”
“Yeah, but I won’t tell Dawnie. If that bastard doesn’t care about us on Christmas I’m not going to worry about him, but I don’t want her hurt either.”
“Thanks, dear. Now, go talk to your friend and tell Willow that she can come work on the applesauce in about ten minutes. We’ll wait to do the latkes till right before dinner.”
A final kiss and Buffy was bouncing out the door. As soon as she left Joyce collapsed into a chair and put her head into her hands, massaging her temples. She pulled a bottle of pills out of her pocket and took two dry.
The bottle was a prescription but Spike didn’t know what it was for. He’d hadn’t heard from the Niblet that her Mum was sick, and Joyce herself hadn’t said anything the last time he talked to her. “What are those?”
“Hmm? Oh, some sort of pain medication I believe. She’s been having problems with headaches and the doctors can’t seem to find anything wrong with her. They’ve done all sort of nasty tests to her to find out.”
Spike was shocked. “Do the Slayer or Bit know?”
“Buffy knows there was a problem but not how bad, Dawn knows nothing. Shame really, she’s going to need the support of her family.”
“Then why won’t she say anything?”
“Pride perhaps. She feels she is the mother and it’s her job to take care of her girls, not the other way around. Or maybe it’s because she doesn’t want to accept their charity?”
Spike grumbled and looked at the floor. “Yeah, yeah. Don’t need to keep pointing it out, do you? What’s wrong with her then?”
The Spirit set her candle down on the table by the sick woman and it seemed to fill Joyce with energy, erasing the lines of pain that had been on her face. “Brain tumor I think, but there are some blockages forming in her brain as well.”
Spike was silent as he watched Joyce get up and start fussing about the kitchen for a while. “Will she get better? I mean, the docs…they‘ll figure it out, right?”
The Spirit walked to where Joyce was trussing up a large turkey for the oven and ran a hand over the woman’s brow. The mortal woman shivered for a moment but otherwise made no sign that she knew the Spirit was there. “Remember, my realm is the Now, not the Future. Still, if nothing is done there are the possibilities of cancer, aneurysm or a stroke. They could leave her crippled, a vegetable, or dead. This could very well be her last Christmas with her family.”
The Spirit walked slowly over to where Spike was studying the pattern of the floor. “But why should you, a Master Vampire, care? She’s just a…what was the colorful term you like so well, young William? Ah yes. She’s a happy meal with legs. Why should you care what happens?”
Spike growled but the Spirit’s eyes never left his. “Just do, alright?”
But even in his mind he couldn’t find a good reason to explain why one mortal woman’s fate worried him.
*****
Spike stayed quiet for the majority of the day. It was if he were watching the Scoobies on fast forward.
Giles had arrived with gifts of wine and a proper Christmas Pudding and Spike found himself remembering listening to the pudding sing in the pot when he was a child and the housekeeper chasing him from the stove so he wouldn’t peek and ruin it. It had been a long time since he had allowed himself to remember his mortal life.
Spike also noticed that the older man looked happy for once. He’d seen Giles’ past and how he’d fought being a watcher with tooth and nail. Seems he didn’t mind it so much now and Spike figured it was because these people thought of him as a person, not just as a watcher.
The Scoobies watched a movie and exchanged gifts. Spike noticed that Xander’s were all hand made woodcarvings and admired his work. He wondered if the boy would be sleeping outside again tonight and why he didn’t just leave home. When he asked the Spirit about it she merely shook her head. “He’s afraid that if he leaves he’ll be alone. Haven’t you noticed how he hates being left behind?”
Spike looked with new eyes at Xander and tried to understand. He saw Dawn and Buffy and their Mum all piled up on the couch. The two witches were in the kitchen working and Giles was talking to Joyce and gesturing with his hand.
Xander sat in a corner of the room alone with a sad sort of smile on his face. “With all this and he’s still not happy?”
The Spirit walked over and perched invisibly on the back of Xander’s chair. “Oh, he’s happy. He just wishes he didn’t have to leave when the night’s over. He's also the type of person who realizes that death can change things at any moment and he’s trying to sit here and capture the moment. Poor lost boy, so afraid of everyone leaving him.”
Spike could understand that. Penn had left their little family, and then Angelus had gotten his soul and taken off for over a century. Darla had no use for him and finally Drusilla had left him for some demon with slime and antlers. Even for a demon it hurt when your family left. And the demon bint hadn’t been gone that long; she had left the boy when he’d been unable to get a new apartment on his salary. Just as well, Spike thought. It would have hurt the boy more if all she was interested in was money.
The night went on. Massive amounts of turkey and ham and side dishes were consumed. Giles’s pudding was a hit of the night but there was also a pumpkin pie that Dawn had made by herself that needed to be fussed over and the teenager beamed at her friends.
Later on Spike noticed that Xander wasn’t in the room and the Spirit pointed the way to the back porch. He was sitting on the steps with his lean legs stretched all the way out and his weight on his elbows. A few minutes later Dawn came out and sprawled beside him.
“He’s okay, Xander.”
“I know. I just…”
The young girl looked serious as she put her hand on her friend's shoulder. “Why don’t you say anything?”
Xander snorted. “It’s not as easy as it sounds, Dawnie. Plus this is me we’re talking about, I trip over my tongue most of the time. If I tried it would probably strangle me. And he doesn’t seem interested. Nope, the potential for the Xan-man to be gay has been shot down repeatedly. It’s best if I stick to what I know, women who use me and then throw me away. On second thoughts, maybe I’ll just be the male version of a crazy cat lady that lives alone? Do you think Wills is going to let Miss Kitty have kittens? I should start now and in fifty years I’m sure I’ll have three hundred cats and when they find me dead alone in the house I can make the news.”
Dawn smacked him on the back of his head. “Ow! Dawn! No fair.”
“Stop it Xander! You’re a great guy and if people don’t see that then they don’t deserve you.”
“Yes, Ma’am!” Xander pulled Dawn into a hug and Spike wished he knew just what they were talking about. The fact that Xander had a crush on a guy was shocking, but not unexpected. The boy did hang around girls way too much to be totally straight. Maybe it was the Watcher he had a crush on; it was obvious that the boy loved the older man but the fact that Giles looked on him as a son would make things difficult.
“You’re not gonna say anything, are you, Dawn?”
“Duh! Xander, if I was going to say anything I would have when I first found out!”
“Thanks, Dawn. We’d better go back in, I think things are wrapping up. Merry Christmas.”
The girl all but strangled Xander in her attempt to hug the boy and Spike had to chuckle at the look on his face. “Merry Christmas, Big Brother, Merry Christmas.”
*****
“I can’t believe he’s out here again. At least my crypt keeps the nightly nasties from looking in on me.”
Throughout the day the Spirit had aged, and wrinkles now framed her sad eyes. “Where else has he to go? If he had shown up at your crypt would he be welcomed? Or pushed away?”
Spike had no answer for that and once again they were in Her dining room. The table that had been filled to bursting with food and treats was picked bare and trash littered the floor.
“Did you see what you have missed today, young William? Family and friends. But you don’t need that, do you? A Master Vampire needs no one.” Instead of sounding arrogant the Spirit's voice seemed sad. By now her hair was gray and her hand shook as she placed the candle back on the table. It had burned down through the day and was now just a nub.
Spike said nothing, merely shot her an odd look and stuffed his hands in his pockets. It was true, he could see where he had been missed, by a few of the Scoobies at least. It was surprising, to find out that they actually cared and he was a bit…befuddled by it. Not confused. A vampire didn’t get confused about mortals.
“Just remember, you only have the Now to act in, William. If you’re not quick that moment is gone forever.”
The candle spluttered out and all of the lights flicked off, leaving Spike alone in complete darkness.
*****
When Spike was finally able to see again he found himself in the cemetery once more. It was as if he had lost time or something and he shook his head in confusion before trying to shrug it off. By then he had learned to not question, just watch.
The Spirit for what he assumed was the Future stood to his side, and Spike bit the inside of his cheek to stop the near insane laughter that tried to escape. Dark robes with a hood hiding most of its face was very clichéd. At least it was till the Spirit looked at him and he saw a hagridden face, blue skin with red eyes and fangs even a vampire would find overgrown and gruesome.
The Spirit held a book in one of Her gnarled hands, and Spike found himself wondering what it was.
The Spirit said nothing, merely pointed her hand and gestured for him to walk in front of Her and Spike silently did as he was told. To tell the truth, Spike was unnerved. This wasn’t the cemetery his crypt was sited in so he was at a loss as to what he was doing here.
That question was answered as he came upon two figures. Buffy was standing watch, stake ready and a sword drawn as Xander tended a grave. It was obvious a few years had passed, not many but enough to make the Slayer look tired and drawn.
Xander looked even worse. The boy had never really been slender but now he looked almost bloated and Spike caught the scent of cheap whisky coming from Xander. He raised his eyebrows in shock. Xander had never been one to imbibe; he didn’t want to end up like his bastard of a father.
“Are you about done, Xan? Angel is going to be here in a half hour.”
“Just about. Hey, did you hear back from that lawyer yet?”
“Yeah, but it doesn’t look good. Daddy Dearest has loads of money and he’s shipped Dawnie off to some boarding school. I’m not even allowed to talk to her now.”
Xander laughed and it was a bitter sound. Spike really didn’t like hearing it from the usually upbeat boy. “Your Mom would shit bricks if she knew her ex was doing this to you two. I kinda hope she’s haunting him.”
Buffy laughed and it too had a brittle edge to it, as if she’d been pushed to her breaking point and more. “If anyone could do it, it would be Mom.”
There was silence as Xander moved to another grave and Spike got a look at the one he had been working on. Joyce Summers.
“Shit! Guess their bastard Da came and took Dawn away from her big Sis.” Spike was surprised to find he actually felt sorry for the blond girl. It was obvious she loved Dawn despite their sisterly fights and would do anything for her.
He followed to where Xander was working and saw the names on the next two graves. Tara and Willow.
He spun in anger to the Spirit. “What the fuck happened to the little witches?” He had noticed they had died on the same date.
The Spirit said nothing; She simply opened her book and pointed out an entry. Willow Rosenberg and Tara MacClay killed by a bullet that pierced both their hearts.
Spike was stunned. The babbling red head and her shy blond lover had been killed by a human with a grudge against the Slayer? After facing down big bads like him and Angelus that seemed wrong, somehow; they deserved to be taken out by someone nastier and die in the line of duty, saving the earth or some such shit. Not a fucking gun, those were for cowards.
He turned to the Spirit. “Where’s the Watcher, then?”
The page in the book was turned to another date. Rupert Giles, died due to a drunk driver.
Spike shook his head. The Watcher had a stick up his ass but again deserved a much better fate than that. He was almost surprised to find himself honestly regretting his death, as well as the witches.
Plus it explained so much. Xander had always been close to Red; with her and Giles dead no wonder he’d fallen into drink.
“I wish you’d come with me.” Buffy’s voice broke the silence, her fingers gripping the stake in her hand like a lifeline.
“I can’t Buff, what if Spike comes back?”
“Face it, Xander! He’d gone! He got the chip out and just left, didn’t even look back. I’ve always said he was a selfish, bloodthirsty bastard and I was right! Please Xander, LA will be so much better for you. Cordy get these weird vision thingies and she’ll know if the Hellmouth is trying to be opened. We’ll have more back up in LA, can get better jobs than the crappy ones we had.”
A flash of pain crossed Xander’s face before being pushed behind a solemn mask. “Thanks Buffy, I really love to hear how my life keeps going down hill and I lose all my good jobs. You’d think saving the world would be as good as a doctor’s excuse, but no! Let’s face it, I was born on the Hellmouth and I’ll die here. You have a chance to get away from here, you should take it.”
‘Xander…please!”
“No Buff. I don’t belong in LA.” A twisted grin crossed his face, a pale shadow of the honest amusement that used to be reflected in his eyes. “Besides, me and Deadboy in the same town is so not of the good.”
“Xan…”
“No! I’m not leaving! That’s final, Buffy.”
The Slayer looked so sad, Spike actually found himself wanting to comfort the girl for a moment. Then he saw the dark look on Xander’s face. However much this was hurting Buffy, it was hurting Xander ten times more. He looked as if he’d been punched in the face.
“Will I ever see you again, Xander?” Buffy was quietly crying, tears running down her face, smearing what little make-up she wore.
Xander gave a sad smile. “The Powers willing and the Hellmouth don’t get me I’ll be right here. Well, maybe not right here, I mean I’ll probably walk around a bit, go home once in a while, visit other graveyards, stuff like that.”
Buffy gave a choked laugh and threw her arm around Xander, giving him a one armed hug. “I love you, Xander. No matter what, you’ll always be my Xander-shaped friend.”
Xander pressed a chaste kiss to Buffy’s lips. “Go. Angel’s waiting on you by now. Have a good life Buffy, you deserve it.”
The two friends parted and it was obvious that neither one of them expected to see each other again. By now both were crying and finally Buffy gave a hitching sob, turned around and ran into the night.
*****
Spike and the Spirit followed Xander as he walked almost aimlessly through the streets of Sunnydale. The Spirit never spoke and it unnerved Spike to no end. He kept up a running commentary in his head. Wondering what would happen to Xander alone on the Hellmouth, why Buffy was going to live with Angel of all people, where he was in all of this.
He’d heard Buffy’s accusation that he’d gotten the chip out and left town, but Spike wasn’t so sure. Before tonight he would have least made sure he was back in fighting form and loose on the world just to make the white hats cringe.
After tonight he could see himself staying in town to at least watch over Dawn. But since she wasn’t here maybe he had left. But then there was Xander and it was pretty obvious that he needed a keeper.
One of the first stops Xander had made after leaving Buffy was a convenience store where he bought Jack Daniels and a pack of cigarettes. From the way the boy had lit up it was obvious that he’d been smoking for a while. Now that was all well and good for a vamp like Spike, he didn’t need his lungs, but if something happened and the boy had to run he’d probably have an asthma attack and get eaten by whatever big bad had his sights set on the mortal.
Suddenly Xander took off running and Spike followed, curious to see what was going on. There were a few of the frat boys fighting over a coat. Xander stopped to watch for a while till Spike heard a hiss of breath. Then Xander threw himself into the fight, actually pulling a knife from his boot to use against humans.
Xander had the coat in one hand and the knife at the leader’s throat in the other. “Where did you get this coat?!”
The frat boy spluttered till Xander pressed the tip of the knife in slowly, a small trickle of blood running down under the collar of his white shirt, staining it red.
”Chill, man!! Got it a couple of weeks ago. This freak attacked us right before dawn and we fought back. Took his coat and left him there. Why do you care?”
“Where!” Xander’s voice was furious, but Spike paid no heed to him. His eyes were focused on the long black coat the boy had desperately clutched in his hand.
“Couple blocks from here, behind that old magic shop place that’s closed. Take it, man! It ain’t worth dying over!”
Xander threw the other man into the wall and he and his friends took off at a run. Spike had never seen Xander so angry, and he’d never hurt humans before. He watched as Xander ran his hands over the long coat, delving into the pockets in curiosity.
“Oh, Spike! Damn them!” When Xander said that Spike recognized that the coat was his duster, something he’d never give up if he was still walking on the earth.
It was quite a shock to know he was dust somewhere. A cold chill ran down his spine and Spike shivered.
Tears were running down Xander’s face once again as he took off his own ratty coat and left it on the ground, pulling on Spike’s even though it was a tight fit. The boy walked slowly towards the Magic Box, stopping once to talk on the phone. Spike didn’t hear what he said.
They reached the alley where the frats had killed him, and Xander sat on an overturned box. Nothing was said, he just sat and smoked and drank the entire bottle of Jack.
When he got to the last of it, he raised the bottle in a toast and the words stuck in his throat and made Spike feel sick.
“Here’s to you, Spike. There are so many things I wish, Spike. I hope Dawnie and Buffy forgive me but what kind of a chance do I have of surviving on the Hellmouth if you can’t?” Xander drank the rest and then broke the bottle against the wall and Spike had a bad feeling.
“Xan, luv, don’t do what I think you think you’re gonna do. I’m not worth it, pet, and your Red will have your balls when you get to the afterlife.”
But no matter how he pleaded Xander couldn’t hear him, and Spike was unable to touch him. He was helpless to watch this mortal that had been brave enough to stand up to both him and his Sire, watch as this boy who had fought for what was right take the sharp edge of the bottle and slit his right wrist, then his left, making sure to slice up the arm, not across so that the blood flowed even faster.
The smell of it made Spike’s stomach turn. Xander’s scent was of pain and despair and hopelessness. As he passed out he mumbled a phrase to himself. “Loved you Spike, I’ll find you in the next life…Spike…”
By this time the words barely mattered to Spike. He was raging, demon to the fore at the thought of this human dying in some back alley. He turned to the Spirit, snarling in his rage. “Let me help him!! Please! I know I can help him; this is the Future right, just like in Dickens? I can change things. He doesn’t deserve this!”
“So you do care about him?”
The voice was familiar yet didn’t come from the Spirit. She was merely writing an entry into her book: Xander Harris, death by suicide. No, the voice came from the demon that had flashed in behind her.
“Bloody hell!! Anyanka!!”
“Yes, it’s me. I arranged this little get together, on Xander’s behalf of course. I did love him, I just couldn’t be with him when I took back my powers.” The demon walked over and smoothed the hair around Xander’s cooling face. “I did love him, and he loved me. Well, as much as he could. He loved you more. Has for a long time.”
Spike felt a pain in his chest that staggered him. It was almost as if he were seeing everything that had happened, both with the Spirits and in the past few months, in a new light. How Xander always went with him on patrol, or asked him to play pool. How he’d looked so sad when Spike had refused to come to dinner. Everything he’d overheard Dawn and Xander talk about when Spike was with Christmas Now.
“I see you’re finally starting to get it. He really does love you, and it’s nice. He has lots of love to share. I wasn’t even mad when I found out. Xander just stuttered and stammered and turned that really nice shade of red he’d get whenever I’d talk about our sex life in public. It was cute.” Anyanka left the dead body of her former lover and stopped in front of Spike, staring into his golden eyes.
“Have you learned what this has been all about, or do I get to give you boils on your penis now?”
Spike barely even heard the threat. His mind was blurred with everything he had seen and heard since the spirit of Penn had spoken to him. Was it tonight? Or days ago? Spike was no longer sure. He just knew that he had been looking at the world from Angelus’ point of view. If his Sire were here he’d probably would have cheered Xander on, or make fun of the boy for dying in a back alley alone. As if Angelus hadn’t met his own death in an alley with Darla’s fangs in his neck and her hand on his cock.
“I get it alright! Happy now? There are humans that are more than just take out meals, and Xander is one of the special ones. Can’t say I love him yet, but I know I like the daft little booger and I really don’t want to see him dead. Now do something about it, can’t change a bloody thing sitting on my arse, can I?”
Anyanka looked at the Spirit and She nodded before fading into the darkness. Anya stepped forward and laid her hand on her head. “Make sure you remember this, Spike, and don’t hurt him. If you do boils will be the least of the curses I can go with, okay? First things first, let’s get rid of this.”
Anya’s hand glowed and Spike fell to the ground screaming. The chip in his head was going crazy, it felt as if it was firing every cell in his brain. His voice grew hoarse and the pain finally stopped as darkness overtook his vision and he knew no more.
Epilogue
When Spike finally came to he was lying on the floor of his crypt in front of the television. He could feel in his bones that it was past dawn and he groaned as he slowly picked himself up.
He sat down in his chair and closed his eyes, thinking about what happened the night before. He wasn’t sure if it was real or a dream. On one hand he had the migraine of all time that proved that Anyanka did something to his chip, hopefully getting rid of the damn thing forever.
On the other hand that could be passed off as too much drink. But did he want it to be a dream? Did he really want to go back to how things were and risk having that horrible future played out? Xander’s tear streaked face as he lay in his own blood kept popping up behind Spike’s closed eyes.
The problem was, it wasn’t just Xander. He really didn’t want to see Dawn ripped from her family, or her Mum dead. The Witches were a sad loss too, and while he didn’t see eye to eye with Buffy, seeing the Slayer so close to breaking was a tragic sight. Like seeing a fine sword being banged against a stone, you hated seeing the workmanship destroyed.
So fine. He actually gave a damn about a few mortals. It wasn’t like any of his family was around to bug him about it. Plus he knew that Xander had a bad history with Angel, so it would no doubt piss the elder vampire off if he at least became friends with the mortal.
And he did like Xander. Now he just had to show it somehow.
Spike got up and went to one of his hiding places in the crypt. He had some cash put away for a rainy day, and he guessed this was it. Who would have guessed he was going to use his hard stolen money on humans? Add to that there was only one place he could really go to buy anything to take to the dinner. He might be a bad ass vampire, but his dear dead Mum raised William to be a proper gentleman.
Spike climbed into the lower level of the crypt, stopping at the hidden entrance to the sewers to bang his head against the wall.
“Fuck. I guess I really am Love’s Bitch. I can’t believe I’m going to bloody fucking Wal-mart to buy people pressies.”
As he made his way through the sewer he had one good thought. He could always test out the chip on one of those damn greeters that tried to put smiley face stickers on everyone. If anyone deserved a black eye it was those overly cheerful people. Well, them and that Kathie Lee bint.
He was only going easy on some humans after all, not all of them. The evil and really annoying ones were fair game to his mind.
*****
Spike waited until he noticed Xander slip out the back door to brood on the back porch before following him out. The day had gone well; it had been cloudy enough that he could move about town as long as he kept to the shadows and used a heavy tarp to protect himself. He hadn’t hit the elderly greeter but he had hit the punk that was giving a woman in the parking lot problems as she struggled with her purse and a bag of batteries for toys that she had forgotten.
It had been a shock to be kissed soundly and wished a Merry Christmas by a total stranger.
The Scoobies had been shocked when he had shown up at the door, his skin smoking from the sun just a bit. But Joyce had welcomed him in and except for some comments from Buffy he’d been welcomed by everyone. In fact the comments from the Slayer were more of a teasing nature, sort of like the blond girl did with her little sis, and Spike wondered what she was thinking.
He was saving the knowledge of her full name to use against her at a later date, though. He was still mostly evil at the very least.
Spike had also taken Joyce aside and made her promise to go to a healer he knew. The woman wasn’t going to even get a hangnail if he had his way, and this one time he managed to out-stubborn the strong woman.
Xander was sitting much as he had been the night before. Lean legs stretched out in front of him, elbows on the top step. He leaned his head back and gave Spike a smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey, Spike! Sit a spell with me.” Spike did as he was told, crossing his legs as they stretched out to keep from the temptation of throwing one of his legs over Xander’s as they sat together on the steps.
“You okay, mate? You seemed awfully quiet in there for a bit. Surprising, since I’ve been listening to you babble on this past week.”
Xander sighed. “It’s just…one thing I’ve learned is that I could lose this at any time, you never know what’s gonna happen. I was just trying to make sure I remembered everything about today.”
Spike said nothing; he just nodded. If it hadn’t been for the fact that the chip was gone he would have sworn everything he had seen with the Spirits was a dream. Still, even if it had been he now knew what Xander meant. You had to take time to appreciate what you have in the present.
“So, what’s been up your ass the past few days, Blondie?”
Before Spike might have taken the name as an insult instead of the gentle teasing that it was. “Found out that Angel killed one of his other Childer. Kinda threw me for a loop. I mean I knew Peaches was doing the white hat thing, but…”
“But it really came home to you how he’d kill you if he had the chance? I get that. Angel or Angelus, Deadboy is still a sanctimonious ass.”
Spike shifted till he was just a bit closer to Xander, letting his their shoulders touch and he heard the indrawn breath at the move. He could almost feel the blush that was trying to make its way up Xander’s face and he realized Anya was right; Xander was cute when flustered.
“I can’t say that I will ever like him, but at least it’s done one thing. I’ve…been sort of thinking about things and came to a few new conclusions.”
He watched as Xander swallowed nervously, his adam’s apple bobbing ever so slightly and Spike fought back the urge to lick it. There would be time for that later.
“What kind of things?”
“Like how he wasn’t right about everything. Like how I have to make decisions based on what’s happening now, not what’s happened in the past.” Spike leaned forward ever so slightly and lowered his voice. “Like how certain young men have really kissable lips…”
Their first kiss was everything a first kiss should be, starting out hesitantly but quickly building to an all-consuming passion. Xander moaned and grabbed at the back of Spike’s head, pulling him closer and Spike allowed a hand to run over Xander’s back, tracing the lines of muscle through the layers of clothes.
They might have gone further if it hadn’t been for a high-pitched squeal of delight. They broke apart and Spike couldn’t help but notice how dark Xander’s eyes were.
“This is just so cool!! Finally! I thought I was going to have to lock you two in a room or something! I can’t wait till everyone else finds out!”
Xander was still catching his breath so Spike answered for the both of them. “Wait till New Years, eh Bit? We can shock ‘em at midnight.”
The teen bounced in place before sitting down on the steps behind both men. “Sure, but I get to take pictures! I can’t wait to see Buffy’s face, she kinda thinks you’ve had the hots for her, Spike.”
Xander turned an even brighter shade of red and Spike could almost hear all that blood rushing to his face. And a lovely sight it was. “Glad you approve, Dawnie. Just chill for a bit till we figure out what’s happening, alright?”
The question had been asked of Dawn but Xander looked under his eyelashes at Spike and he nodded. They had a few things to work out. He couldn’t honestly say it was love, not after just one day, but he couldn’t say it wasn’t either. It was a damn sight more than what he’d felt for Dru though, at least Xander had loyalty. And he didn’t talk to dolls or bloody stars.
“Sure, guys, you know I’m good at keeping important secrets.” Dawn cocked her head to the side and gave Spike an evil grin. “So…Spike. Did you heart grow three sizes overnight or what? Yesterday you were all Grinchy.”
Spike smiled and grabbed Xander’s hand and gave it a squeeze. “Something like that, Niblet. You could say I had a cosmic 2x4 to the head. But it wasn’t Seuss; it was a different author. Might just tell you some time, right now let’s get back inside, okay?”
They started to go inside and Spike pulled Xander back for a quick peck on the cheek. “And you’ll be coming home with me tonight. We've got lots to talk about and I get the feeling that my crypt is better than the Basement of Doom, right pet?”
Xander took a deep breath and Spike could almost feel the weight dropping from his shoulders. “I’d like that, Spike, I’d like it a lot.”
“Merry Christmas, Xander. I get the feeling that this next year is gonna be better for the both of us.”
Xander leaned forward and pressed a quick kiss to Spike’s lips, and he could feel the heat from it seeping into his bones, making him feel whole. “Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukah, Blessed Solstice, whatever. I’m just glad I’m with you.”
The End
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