Non-Sequitopia

by
Misanthrope7842

         
         
         






Part One

 Xander descended the stairs slowly, not really trying to be quiet. This was more the lassitude of the nervous.  In Xander's head, there was a dirge playing.  Or that song from movies that signaled the walk of the dead.

What was that called, again?

Attempted silence would have been useless anyway; his target's enhanced senses would know he was coming no matter what.  But what he was here to do would no doubt shock the vampire close to another death, so there was really no need to engage in ambush tactics.

Take that, soldier boy.

"Spike, you down here?"

"Where else would I be at noon, Whelp?"  Good to see the new soul hadn't replaced the old snark.

"Yeah, daytime."  That was intelligent.  "I wanted to talk to you."

"So I see."

"Well, I... I'm... I'll just get to the point, here."

"Please."

"I'm moving"  This wasn't going nearly as well as he had expected.  But on the plus side, there was no laughing so hard blood came out the nose.  Of course, the Question hadn't been asked yet.  There might soon be some hitting so hard blood came out the nose.

"Okay."

"Out."  Xander clarified.  Why was this so difficult again?  Oh yeah.

"Right. Congrats and all that."  Spike turned around as if to end the conversation.  No! Not yet.

"I was just wondering..." This is a bad idea, bad idea, bad.  "Wanna come with?"

Spike stared at Xander.  Hard.  It was not fun.

Hehehe, look, speechless Spike.  Xander could cross one off the 'need to do before I die' list. Which, if the look on Spike's face was any indication, wasn't going to be much farther in the future. 

"What? Why? Where? What?"  Ah, composure regained. Sort of.

"Can we do these single-file or do you just want a list?"  No, that would imply there was a list.  And there wasn't.  Not here, anyway.

Spike lit a cigarette and slowly inhaled.  Good, maybe he was stalling. Xander needed a good stall.  He liked his lungs too much to take up this particular habit, effective though it was.  And really, could Xander pull off the smoking?  Not unless hot sex had just been had, which explained the rapidly staling pack in his nightstand.  No more with the 's-word' dammit.

"Yeah, one at a time.  First..." again with a pause and inhalation.  And a face rub.  Now that was a method he could employ.  Except he would probably look sleepy rather than slightly agitated.

"Where are you going?" 

"There's this town about an hour away.  Little place, but starting to boom.  I've got a job there if I want it.  Thought I'd try it out."  The offer for promotion had been made several times by his boss, but relocation was mandatory.  Xander couldn't go, couldn't leave the girls, My girls.  Now, though, now... he could.

"Why?  Giving up the white knight routine, Pet?  Doesn't seem like you."  Yes. Sarcasm still present, but Spike couldn't hide the curiosity from the question.  Curiosity could mean interest, and interest might mean acceptance, and acceptance meant Spike would go.  Not that it mattered, Xander was leaving whether or not Spike came too.  And his motivations for asking him to come were not going to be analyzed now. Not, not, not.  There were no motivations.  Just a question.  An offer.  A trunk packed so that half the space was still available.

"No, just going where I'm needed, I guess."

"You're needed here." Spike said softly, the 'more than I am' from numerous Speeches left off, but heard and sympathized with anyway.

Piffle.  "You don't believe that any more than I do." Xander protested. 'That' being the Speech or the statement, neither man was entirely sure.

There was no self-deprecation here, Spike noted, not like when the others were present.  This was just honesty. One more thing Xander was better at than the rest of them that he probably didn't realize.  Spike looked at Xander, obviously waiting for more of an explanation.  Eyebrow cocked, another 'I'm so much cooler than you' mannerism Xander longed to pull off, but never could.

Xander sighed heavily, needing the breath to steady himself more than to force the words out.  "I've been wanted, occasionally; useful even, sometimes.  But never needed."  Pause, another deep breath.

He added, not really for Spike to hear, "Unless you count donut runs and free window replacements as needs."  Until then, Xander hadn't really noticed just how nervous he still was.  When the words came out before he could even stop them- words that stung even though he had come to terms with their truth long ago, around the third, fourth, five-hundredth time they were spoken out loud or otherwise- his verbal slip was a neon sign that screamed 'unsettled human, come torture me'.  Not a good thing to be projecting around a vampire.  Or anyone, really and Xander could attest to this.

Repression.  Embrace it.

He clamped down on that emotion, pretty sure that Spike wouldn't use it against him anymore. That was after all, one of the reasons he had asked him to come along. 

Spike began to speak again. "And you'll be needed somewhere else?"  No sarcasm this time, something more akin to concern.

"Probably not.  But the pay's better." Both men smiled.  Xander's rule of life number five: when all else fails, crack a joke. Rules one through four, see: repression.

There was a fairly uncomfortable silence while Spike smoked and Xander counted cracks in the ceiling. Not too many, considering the life-endage that had taken place above.  Spike was musing.  Either thinking of accepting the explanation at face value, or of whether Xander was worth draining before killing. 

Probably not.

"And you want me to come with you?"  Xander was interrupted in his search for seventeen.  
"If you want to?"   Wait.  That wasn't supposed to come out as a question. Maybe Spike wouldn't notice the almost-crack in his voice.

"Are you asking me, or am I asking you?" No luck.  But at least Spike seemed to be not much annoyed.  Maybe he had rules of life, too.  Unlife.  Whatever.

"Yes, I do want you to come.  That's why I asked."

"Why?"

There was the $64,000 question, now wasn't it.  About time.  Now, how to answer this?  Xander could barely explain it to himself, and no amount of conversation-practice-in-his-head had given him the answer.  He decided to go with whatever came out of his mouth.  No telling what it would be, but he could usually talk his way out of trouble.

"Okay, let me just put it like this."  Check with Spike, who nodded for Xander to continue.  Xander took another deep breath. If this conversation went on much longer, he was going to hyperventilate.  He continued anyway.

"Even though you're not in love with Drusilla anymore, do you ever want to go back to Prague?"

Spike blinked.  Opened his mouth, shut it, and blinked again.

"Right.  What time do we leave?"

Part Two   The Drive

They were in Xander's car, had been for about half an hour.  Xander was driving, liking his car, and himself, in one piece. Kinda wouldn't mind Spike to stay that way, too, although whether the vampire was still in one piece was debatable. Besides, he was the only one who knew the directions.

Spike was pressed into the passenger side door, had been for the past half hour. He hadn't even asked to drive, and that had bothered Xander. 

He had at first tried to make conversation, but the one word, sometimes nonsensical answers {"Spike, did you bring plenty to eat?  I don't know where the butcher's is yet."  "Fine, thanks."} made it useless, if not quite impossible.  There had been a small cooler wedged into the trunk though, so he wasn't too worried.

He decided to give it one more shot, replacing small talk with... large talk.  "Spike, everything okay?  No second thoughts, right?"  Say no, say no, say no.

"Why did you ask me to come?" 

Oh. Very large talk.  Huge talk. 

"Is 'I don't know' an acceptable answer?"  Xander really hoped it was.  It was all he had.

"Is it the truth?"

When did Spike become a mind reader?

"As close as I can get right now."  Xander wasn't sure if that was going to be good enough, because Spike returned to staring out the window.  Not much Xander could do about it either way.  Maybe the stars were talking to Spike.  It seemed to be a fairly common occurrence among vampires with a tenuous hold on reality, if past experience could be trusted.

"Are you going to kill me?" 

"What?"  What?  So softly, Xander wasn't sure if that was hope he heard, or fear.  Or fear of hope. 

"I would understand.  If you did.  I don't deserve it... for this to stop.  But if anyone should, you'd be... third or so on line." 

Third?  That high?  Wow.

Not wow.  Spike had a list too, and it wasn't headed 'Pros and Cons of Leaving Sunnydale'. 

"Stop."  Please stop.  Spike should never sound like that, so defeated.  Especially now that he did, all the time.  "Spike, I'm not going to kill you.  I mean, long midnight drive on a deserted highway to an unknown destination..."  Maybe there was some non-talking-stars-logic involved here.  "I see."  He spared a glance at the vampire, who was not meeting his eyes. 

"No, I am not going to kill you.  I just... thought you... needed to get away from there... the hellmouth... and... things."  He was trying to explain.  There were more pauses than words, but Spike remained silent.

"Figured, I'm going.  Might provide a way for you to go and not live in the sewers on rats for eighty years or so."  Xander had tried for levity. Remember rule five.  From the look on Spike's face, he had failed.  Miserably.  But it was as close to the truth as Xander could get, without really knowing what the truth was himself.

"But you hate me." 

Xander wasn't sure if he was supposed to hear that or not, either.

"Of course I hated you.  '-Ed'.  Past tense. I hate everyone who tries to kill me." He remembered that fun psycho-Buffy period and added, "Repeatedly.  I'm irrational that way."

"But you want me to move out of town with you?"  Asked with that oddly not-odd wonder Xander had begun to notice more and more recently.

"Yeah, well. Things change."

"That much?"  Spike, who was still pressed into the corner of the car seat, turned to look directly at Xander as if to judge the honestly of his response.  His eyes were wide, confusion for once not concealed by anger, or hurt, or any of the other emotions Spike used to cover himself.  Xander wasn't sure if it was due to the offer he had made or that he had made it.  Probably a little of both.

Xander's grip on the wheel tightened.  "Look, Spike, in the time since I met you, among other things and in no particular order, my ex-girlfriend, who I jilted at the altar, was/ wasn't/ was/ wasn't a vengeance demon."

"Yeah, took brass ones, that."  Spike gave his approval. That was a compliment, right?

"To continue, without commentary this time, please," Xander spared a smile at Spike.  He was so much easier to deflate these days.  Xander was hoping to extend the conversation, now that reasons were coming out about this journey.  It boded well for the future.  No! Not planning the future!  There will be no boding.  Spike nodded, but kept silent.

"Anyway, my supernatural slayery friend died.  Again.  And I helped bring her back, again, but from Heaven as it turns out; my other best friend tried to end the world, and I helped stop it.  Again.  The stoppage, not the Willow-world-endage."  Xander felt compelled to clarify.  As far as he knew, Wills had only tried to end the world once. On purpose. 

"Add to that the fact that you're not the first, but the second souled vampire I've ever met," Xander noted the slight grimace that quickly crossed Spike's features again at the mention of Angel, even indirectly, and filed that away.  He didn't want to hurt Spike, and this was probably as fertile soil as his own parents were for him.

"I'd say I'm allowed to grow, wouldn't you?"  There.  At that, the explanation-well dried up. All further questions were going to have to wait until the end of the tour.  But feel free to check out the gift shop.

"Yeah.  Guess things can't stay black and white forever, even for you."

"Nope.  Fully technicolor seeing nowadays."  Xander replied, basking in the glow of the not really condescending smirk, but still a smirk, given to him by the vampire.  A little normalcy, or what passed as such on a road trip to a new life with a souled vampire, went a long way in Xander's existence.

Spike settled in a bit more, moving away from the car door enough that Xander was no longer afraid that he would throw himself from the vehicle the first time they slowed below 20 mph. Much better. If there was to be boding on this journey, it was going to be of the good sort.  Don't think like that.  They weren't that far from the Hellmouth, and there was no end to the ways this could still go to... hell.

Part Three   Wow



Xander and Spike finished the rest of the drive in comfortable silence, Spike watching the scenery speed by them and not crying, and Xander watching the road in front of him and not crying. He tried to think of this as 'not an ending, but a new beginning' or some other cliche he would have heard at his high-school graduation, had he not been planning on blowing up the school and dying. But the truth was it was an end. He left the town he'd grown up in, the life he knew and the people he loved for something unfamiliar with a person he only recently stopped wanting completely dead. Letting go of the could- have- beens and should- have- dones was going to take some time. He suspected Spike felt much the same, but a hundred years more so.

It wasn't that long before he pulled into the heart of downtown and stopped in front of their new home. His company had been responsible for refurbishing the beautiful art deco building, and when the clients had gone bankrupt, kept the property for their newly founded real estate department. Once an office building, it now housed luxury apartments leased to and owned by musicians and artists. Successful ones, if the rent was anything to go by. Not that this was a problem for Xander anymore. Since the company that paid him also owned the building, he was living rent free for the first time since the instant he had no longer been the legal responsibility of Mr. and Mrs. Harris. He had seen photos in the portfolio the company had presented him with, but they didn't do it justice. Maybe there was a photographer in residence who could help. He would have to bring it up at the meeting Monday. Nothing breaks the ice like raising profit-margins.

"This is it." Xander got out of the car and walked around to the passenger side to stand with Spike. They gazed up at the building.

"This is it?" Spike asked apprehensively. Xander had not expected wariness from Spike. He followed his eyes to the building's western facing facade, full of large windows and few drapes. Did Spike think he brought him all this way just so he could combust in the three o'clock sun?

Probably.

Xander stifled his grin. Boy, was Spike gonna be impressed. Or pissed, you never could tell.

"Come on, grab your bags and let's go."

Xander led them through the lobby and to the elevator and pushed the button. This had always been his favorite part. It almost made going to the hospital fun, except for the friends in comas or the stitches or evil soulless vampire ex-boyfriends finding you or the having to go home even after the interviewer from Children's Services said you wouldn't have to. Xander shook off the memories and stepped into the car. Spike followed and when the elevator started moving downwards, he smirked.

"Have this planned for long, Pet?"

Xander just smiled and waited. He did not need to tell Spike that he had called in most of the now nonexistent favors owed to him to have the building's sub- basement renovated. They stepped out into a hallway, tastefully decorated and smelling of fresh paint and sawdust. Xander guessed his secret was out now. There was only the one door in the hall; Xander was willing to wager that most of the building's occupants didn't even know they had a sub-basement. Good.

Xander held his key chain up and jingled it. "These are mine." He walked to the door and tossed a similar set of keys to Spike. "And those are for you."

Spike caught them easily, even through his shock/ amazement/ aprehension. Xander thought that if he hit Spike on his back his eyes would freeze in a wide-eyed wonderment he had never seen from the vampire before. He'd like to see it more often. Spike slid the key in the lock and pushed the door open but Xander stepped in front of him before he could enter. "Yndnvt."

"Want to try that with a few more letters, Pet?"

"You need an invite." Xander had forgotten in his rush to surprise and please the vampire. Vampire being the key, here. Spike dropped his eyes and Xander hurried to explain. "I didn't put you down on the rental agreement, since from what I understand, that would make this pretty much a come in and play zone for demons. But it's your place, too. That's why I gave you the keys. I just wanted us to be safe. Both of us."

Spike resumed looking at Xander. "Good thinking. We just won't mention the fact that until yesterday, you didn't even know I was going to be here."

"Yeah, let's not." Xander stepped over the threshold. "Come on in, Spike."

"Wow." Xander was a little upset that Spike had gotten to comment on the apartment before he did. No one would ever believe that Spike had said 'wow'. That was cool, but it wasn't as if he was going to tell anyone.

Xander looked around, and decided that 'wow' was as accurate a description as he could muster. He had been afraid when he began plans for the basement that he would be taking a step backwards. But he had relied on the company's excellent resources and his own craftsmen. Craftsdemons. Whatever, and the work was perfect. What he had now was more akin to an underground penthouse than a basement. The main area was huge, bigger than some of the houses Xander considered before the move. There were two bedrooms on the far side of the room, each nearly as big as the main area itself. Between them was a bathroom. Although, from the size of the tub, Xander wondered if maybe it was supposed to be a pool room. The kitchen was to the right of the front door and an enclosed laundry area was to the left.

Spike came out of the bathroom. "Xander, there's no mirror in here." That had to be a mistake. People simply did not have bathrooms with no mirrors.

"Yeah, I figured I'd put one up in my room. Not much use for one anywhere else, is there?"

Spike just stared. For him? Xander had done this for him?

"I know it's not a crypt, but there's no pesky sunlight to worry about."

"Definitely not a crypt."

"Thought the black leather living room suite would make up for that."

"Didn't know you had it in you."

"So, you like?"

"Yes." Spike was still reeling from Xander's concern. Xander. Was concerned about him. No matter how many times he repeated it to himself, the words failed to make sense.

"Hey, why don't you go pick out a bedroom. I'm going to move the car around. There's a garage  in back where people... park... their cars." Xander finished lamely, still wanting Spike to both be impressed and feel at home here. Spike just continued to look around with his lips occasionally twitching, and Xander didn't know if he was trying not to cry or trying not to laugh.

"Which one is yours?" Spike asked. Any minute now he'd wake up, still manacled to the basement wall even though it was unnecessary now. Then she'd come down and tell him how useless he was, and he'd agree. But there was no reason to turn this pleasant dream into a nightmare by being rude. The last time anyone had ever provided him with this kind of consideration for his feelings had been Angelus. That was because he was a responsibility, not because he was a... whatever Xander considered him to be. Spike wanted to keep this feeling as long as possible. There was no need to cry, and no one was yet trying to hurt him. Yet.

"Whatever, they should both be the same. I thought we could personalize them ourselves later on. Pick one, and I'll take the other." Xander walked over to the door and paused before grabbing a stake and shoving it into his back pocket. No hellmouth didn't mean no want-to-kill-yous.

Part Four   You Can Take The Boy



As Xander retrieved the car, he forced himself to stop grinning like an idiot and to calm down. Things were going so well. The drive had finally relaxed him a bit, and he had gotten to convince Spike he wasn't in iminent danger. The apartment was so much better than expected and he could see himself and Spike living there quite happily, just a boy and his vampire. He even saw a few flashes of Old Spike, which was better than he had planned.

Yes, there had been planning. He had engaged in copious amounts of planning. And thinking and hoping and wishing and wanting. Xander stopped himself from humming and pulled the car around the building. He wanted Spike to be here, mission accomplished.  Wanted Spike to be happy, also a go. He'd wanted Spike...period. No!

Maybe.

Yes.

Truth be told, and it was just a man and his car now, so truths it was, he wanted Spike.  Once he got over the initial 'you fucked my ex (on camera) and now you must die' reaction of last summer, and all the fallout from the fun that followed, he stopped trying so hard to see Spike as 'vampire/ embodiment of all evil/ another dead guy that Buffy would rather fuck than me' and started paying attention to him as a person. Person-type creature. No, person, with demonic tendancies. And, okay, it hadn't been as easy as all that, but still... Xander liked what he uncovered. Xander loved his intelligence, that he tried to cover but couldn't, and his wicked sense of humor that everyone else failed to notice wouldn't be so damn good if he didn't know them so well. He loved his experience, envied the things he had seen and some that he had done and wanted him to tell him about. He loved his loyalty, even though it was as misplaced as his own usually was and loved his body. Who wouldn't love that body?

He knew this all years ago. But admitting that Spike was capable of... anything, other than death and distruction and public sex-capades with other people's almost-wives was not an option. It meant that they were all capable. That Jesse had been capable.

And he killed him anyway.

It made Xander a murderer, worse than the vamps he killed, worse than all of them because he was better than them, he had a fucking cause. Not his cause, but a cause nonetheless.

Xander tore himself back to the present and pulled into his parking space, shaded at any time of day, just in case.

See?

Shut up.

He climbed out and locked the door and turned around to face yellow eyes. Yellow eyes that weren't amused or remorseful or sexy or any of the things that would have made his heart start beating again.

"Hello."

"Um, yeah, hi, nice to meet you. Is there a demon newsletter or something? E-mail? Pop-ups proclaiming 'The Magnet is on his way, strike now for twenty percent more free blood!'?" So what if he babbled, staring ridgey death in the face made him nervous and this is how nervous Xander reacts. Also, this is what generaly keeps nervous Xander alive.

The vampire ignored him. "Think I'll make you dinner." She took a preditory step towards Xander, ready to strike. Years of being on the wrong end of that step prepared him well, though. This is a new town, damn it. He was not going to be drained here by some two-bit vamp who couldn't even make it to the Hellmouth.  Xander readied his stake, now definately glad he had not left it on the table. She pounced and Xander thrust, forcing stake into chest, and pulling it back, right on cue, out of dust.

"I'm thinking not." Xander replaced the stake in his pocket. At least that had taken care of the dopey grin.

***

Spike came out of his chosen bedroom when he heard the front door's locks engage.

"One on the left, I see?" Xander asked. 

"Yeah." Something was off here, and the boy smelled funny. Had taken a long time, too, but admitting that meant admitting he had kept an eye on the clock. Stopped himself from checking on him a couple times, too.  No, not hanging that out to see anytime soon. He may be a nancy-boy soul having poufter, but he still had some pride. At least here, he did. A little. Xander looked a little flushed.

"Everything... You still have a car, right, Pet?"

"Huh? Yeah." Xander chuckled at the thought of Spike worrying about car theives. "Safely tucked in for the night. Just had to dispose of the welcome wagon. No coupon books, but she did leave a lovely little dust pile. Nice to see they checked in with what we were familiar with, although I think it was a bit tacky considering one of us is a va-"

"Vampires? Attacked you?" Spike was so stupid. Xander brought him here, set up this place for him and he had nearly let him get himself killed. "Shoulda gone m'self, not let you get hurt." He was at Xander's side in an instant, running his hands over the boy to take stock of the inevitable wounds.

"Spike, let go, I'm fine. We've only been away from Sunnydale for a few hours, I'm not that rusty. I'm fine. Get off."

Spike backed away quickly. "Sorry, I just. Sorry. Didn't mean it, Xander. Sorry."

"Spike, stop, it's okay," Xander sighed. "I didn't mean to yell, I just don't like people touching me if I'm not expecting it. I'm fine." He hadn't meant to upset Spike.  But he was fine.

"You stake her?"

"Yeah."

"Good." Spike seemed back to normal; if Xander had never met him before, he might even believe that was true. "Anyone drains you," there was a hitch to his voice, "'S gonna be me." Xander wasn't sure which part of that upset Spike, but decided to let it go.

"Hey, get in line, pal. I'm an intertownal delicasy. Specialty stores ache for an once of me." Xander made his way to check out the bedroom Spike had left for him. He added, raising his voice, "I have fan clubs and waiting lists."

"We don't think you'll taste good, Whelp," Spike called back. "We just want you to shut up. Probably a bloody reward."

Xander laughed at the insult and began to unpack. He finally figured out what would put this all behind them. "So," He paused, making sure he had Spike's attention. "Dinner?"

Part Five   Kept Man



Xander and Spike left the apartment, taking in the scenery and getting a feel for their neighborhood. Spike was warily watching for any more intruders, and Xander pretended not to notice. Or to be incredibly turned on by the whole someone's upset at my near-death experience besides me feeling he rarely got to experience. They passed a still open even at this time of night butcher shop, and noted its location. Then they found a burger joint and Spike sneered while Xander clogged his arteries.

"What?" Spike looked far to innocent.

"Don't play games, unevil undead. That's the eighth fry you've snatched. You want fries, I'll buy you some, but these babies," he circled his arms protectively around the fries, "are mine."

The meal was finished, three more snagged fries, and three futile attempts to wrestle them back from vampirically fast fingers, and one Very Annoyed Look from the manager later. Xander and Spike continued their walk until they located a department store that was still open. It wasn't that late, so Xander made them stop to buy linnens.

"Now?"

"Yes. I didn't bring sheets from my old place, cause I didn't pick them out and was not about to sleep on flowers now that I'm a swinging bachelor again."

"Swinging, eh?" Typical Spike Smirk, followed by a Typical Spike Drag on cigarette.

"New place, you never know who might take an interest." Xander teased back. As long as Spike didn't know who he wanted to take an interest, he was good with the flirting. He wasn't even sure Spike had sheets, but he knew he liked them. Blankets, too. No roommate of his was going to lack for creature comforts.

Xander told Spike to get whatever he needed. He followed Spike to the bedding section and watched as he picked out sheets.

Black, check.

Satin, check.

Then Spike casually noticed the price and set them back on the shelves.

Xander grabbed them back and threw them into the cart. "I told you the pay's better here."  He found another set of black and tossed them in too. And, with a petulant look, added a set of red. "Get whatever you need. I'll take care of it."

Spike opened his mouth as if to say something, but paused before just turning and taking off in the direction of the towels. Xander expected the duster to flap accordingly, but it just hung there, barely moving along with the vampire. He resisted the urge to comfort Spike, not knowing what had caused the defeat this time. Instead he did not get all tingly thinking of Spike and the sheets in the cart. Nor did he readjust himself due to said thoughts. And he certainly didn't replace them with thoughts of wet-naked-only-towel-covered Spike.

***

Xander was quickly devouring his third bowl of cereal the next morning when Spike came into the kitchen. He was dressed, and isn't that a loose usage of the word, in only his jeans, top button undone and hanging low on his hips. His bare feet poked out from beneath them and he shuffled into the room, wincing slightly as he transitioned from living room warm carpet to kitchen cold linoleum.

Xander imediatley made plans to buy a rug.

Spike opened the refridgerator and tossed a container of blood into the microwave.  While it was warming, he pulled a mug out of the cabinet and poured himself a cup of coffee. He thrust the carafe in Xander's direction and Xander waved him off, his own cup still mostly full and delightfully warm. Spike replaced the pot and turned his back on Xander to drink the blood.

Xander frowned a bit. He didn't know why Spike wouldn't eat in front of him, only that he hadn't since coming here. It didn't bother Xander, and Spike shouldn't have cared one way or the other. He should have been dunking and dripping like he always did.  But that was Before, and Xander didn't think he should be trying to convince Spike to leave blood stains in their new apartment.

Spike finished, rinsed his blood cup, and brought his coffee to the table. He pulled an envelope from his back pocket and slid it in front of Xander before sitting down.

"Spike?"

"'S yours."

Xander opened the envelope full of... money. Full of money. Lots of money. "What's this?"

"My share."

Xander did some quick calculating. "For the next eight months?"

"Won't have you thinking I can't pull my own."

"You don't have to."

"Look, I have money, and-"

"I know. You don't have to."

"How do you know?" Spike was cautious now.

"I've seen it."

"What? Where?"

"Your bedroom."

Spike narrowed his eyes. Had Xander been going through his things? Is that why he was here? To be watched, monitored? Still?

Xander noticed the anger and clarified. "Your bedroom back there, in the crypt."

"You were there?" He was sure he would have remembered the boy being in his part of the crypt.

"You were busy. Exercising."

Spike closed his eyes. "Oh."

"Yeah," Xander quickly continued. "You had a lot of nice things. Antiques. Good quality. And you're smart enough not to keep the really good stuff out where just anyone could find it. Plus you're like a hundred and whatever, so you've probably got stocks or bonds or notes or something. You may be formerly evil, but you're not, as I belive I mentioned before, stupid. And bugging us for money gave you something to do. Little tip, though, might wanna keep some of those assets liquid, just in case."

Spike tried to hide his... utter incredulity at Xander's insight with sarcasm. "Thought about it a lot, have you?"

Xander spotted someone playing at his own game. Hell, he'd invented the duck and defend technique. "Yeah, off and on." Honesty strikes again.

"I'll... I won't roll over and be your kept pet. I can take care of myself." Annoyance warred with real anger in the words.

Xander stood, the chair screetching back across the tile a little at the force. "Stop. Now. You're here because you want to be. I offered, you accepted. When the time comes and you want to leave, you're free to go. I'm not trying to keep you, and I won't have you accusing me of, of, of coersion. I know damn well you can take care of yourself and you've done a pretty good job at it, considering. But I do not expect you to pay rent on a free apartment and I do not expect you to chip in on food you don't eat. Am I making myself clear?"

Xander was very close to Spike, looking down on the upturned face and seeming much larger than he really was.

"Crystal." Spike flinched without fliching, a reflex retained after Angelus. Movement had not been commanded and it would not be tolerated.

Xander saw the look and stepped back. He sat back down and willed appology into his body language. But he would not say he was sorry. What he said had been important, too important for the meaning to be lost under an 'I'm sorry'.

"I don't need your money, Spike. It's yours. I wanted you here because I enjoy your company, and because I really, really didn't want to move out alone. And why don't you ever drink your coffee?"

Spike raised his eyes slightly from the floor to the cup.

"I don't mind, but you pour a cup and then hold it, and then it gets cold and you pour another cup. But you never drink it." The non-sequiter had at least broken the palpable tention in the room, and that was Xander's goal.

"Makes me warm.  Like to hold it and it smells good, the real stuff like you buy."

"But?" Xander prompted.

"Too bitter. Coffee is," Spike added, not wanting to upset Xander by commenting on his preparation of a beverage he wouldn't even drink.

"Is everything..." Xander trailed off, not sure how to finish that sentance without sounding like a complete moron.

"Some things, yes; some no. It's odd, that. But I don't have much to compare it to. Been a long time and I wan't much of a coffee drinker then, was I?"

"Guess not."

Spike lifted his eyes then, chancing a look at Xander. "We good here?"

"We're good." Xander smiled.

Spike nodded and left in the direction of the shower.  The envelope remained on the table.

Xander ran his hands over his face and back through his hair, unwittingly imitating Spike's gesture from the night he asked him to come. He heard the water come on and spoke his thoughts aloud.

"That was intense."  He gathred up the dishes and placed them in the sink, beginning on the final arrangements that needed to be made before his first day at work.







Continue

Index







Feed the Author


Visit
The Author's website