Juliatheyounger
Author's Site: http://www.geocities.com/juliatheyounger/fiction.htm
Email: juliatheyounger@yahoo.com
Disclaimer: These characters are not mine and have been merely purloined from the wonderfully creative mind of Joss Whedon, the rest of the Buffy writers and their associated companies.
Rating: NC17
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Spoilers: Up to Entropy in Season 6 of Buffy
Summary: Xander confronts Spike about certain events in Entropy.
Feedback: Yes please!
Author’s Note: This is set post Entropy. Anything else in season 6 never happened, particularly Seeing Red.
Thanks to Wajoma for being my guinea pig on this story :D
Xander caught a cab to where he had parked his car ten blocks away. He drove too fast all the way back to Sunnydale. It would be Saturday in the morning which turned out to be a good thing because despite getting back before dawn, Xander only fell asleep around ten a.m.
******
Spike paced. Spike swore. Spike collapsed on the bed and hid his face in the pillow so he could pretend he wasn’t crying.
Bloody, bollocking, buggering, fucked up bleeding, bloody hell.
*******
Spike was right. Xander told himself for the hundred and fifty millionth time that day. Spike was right. There was no point being all groiny and sexual and…getting attached. No damn point. Spike wasn’t going to come back. Xander couldn’t leave Sunnydale. Hell, Xander didn’t even *want* to be with Spike. It was just….ok, horniness, and lust, and need. Comfort too. But nothing more than that. And Spike knew it. So there was no point staying, denying reality, if in the morning this would be where they would be at anyway. It would just confuse the issue. Spike was right.
Xander wasn’t quite sure what he wanted. He knew he didn’t want to ache anymore. He knew he wanted to be happy again. Have a nice, normal love life. Talk to Anya again. And he knew there was no quick fix for any of those things. And why had he slept with Spike anyway? He hated Spike, loathed him even. But that wasn’t true anymore. Hadn’t been true since the night in the crypt. So why? Need? Because Spike was as screwed up and as pathetic as him? Yep, that was so the wrong reason to have slept with anyone, let alone *Spike*…even if they gave each other some sort of comfort, some sort of understanding. He’d used Spike. And why had Spike slept with him? Even if Xander no longer hated Spike, he knew Spike’s feelings bordered on dislike at best. Xander thought about what Spike had said. He’d expected Xander to walk out on him afterwards, to be disgusted by him. But then, Spike had told him it had been hard to leave…Was it to get Sunnydale out of his system, to be hurt so finally and so badly that he couldn’t ever go back? Or maybe it *was* just mutual need. Xander knew he’d been craving more, ever since the passionate moment in the crypt, when all the hate and anger and despair had been released. And last night for a while he’d had more. It had been good afterwards, Xander could hardly believe it at the time. It had been good. Laughing and talking, companionship, understanding.
Damn it. Xander knew he had to stop thinking about it. Adding to the ache was the last thing he needed to do.
*****
Spike opened the door to his apartment and almost collapsed on the floor. He’d been beaten to a bloody pulp but at least he’d worn some of the edge off. Spot of violence and a lot of alcohol seemed the perfect solution to thinking too much about things these days.
Spike hadn’t thought about certain things in over three days. And before that he’d made two days, so he was getting better.
Fighting, shagging, drinking, feeding; the four things he needed to be happy. He had fighting, shagging and drinking. So he was close there. Oh and telly. He had telly. And he could buy blood. So he had everything he needed. And least he wasn’t called upon every other night to go save the bleeding world. For no thanks either, he might add.
Life of leisure and violence, that’s what being a vampire was all about. Sure he’d taken a job as a bouncer for some demon strip joint cause he was sick of sucking cock, but it let him get paid to be violent and some of the strippers were more than friendly after hours. So no big infringement on his lifestyle there.
Three days since he’d thought of warm flesh, he’d make it to four, at least.
**********
Xander finally resigned himself to the knowledge that Anya wasn’t going to trust him ever again. No matter how many dinners they had together, how many lunch dates, they wouldn’t be getting back together. But at least they would be friends.
And it was true, three months
on, the ache had dulled. Work was going well and things seemed good at the moment,
hellmouth wise. Yet he still found himself thinking about Spike. Spike had been
true to his word, he hadn’t returned. Part of Xander envied him. The decision
made to leave and actually carried out. He felt a twinge of guilt now whenever
he remembered his visit. Had he really been so presumptuous to think he could
haul Spike back, after everything that had happened? That he *should* bring
Spike back? Aside from the occasional erotic dream, the sex had been filed away
in Xander’s brain as something stupid done under emotional stress. He knew
that Spike had been just as screwed up, confused and upset as he had been. It
had been a “thing” nothing more. Spike had been right. But still,
Xander found his thoughts returning more and more frequently to the blonde vampire.
Xander hoped that the ache had dulled for him too.
*******
Things were good. Well as good as they could be for a soulless fiend who couldn’t kill or hurt his natural prey. One day Spike had woken up and decided he was sick of pretending he wasn’t thinking about Sunnydale and the people there, and that the only solution was to just *not* think about it or them anymore. After all they weren’t worth it and he didn’t need them.
And, Spike also decided, since he was immortal he might as well make the most of it.
So, since he didn’t particularly care about helping humans, and he wasn’t particularly interested in taking over the world either, Spike did the things he used to do for nearly one hundred years, only this time without Drusilla and without the killing.
It had been a whole month since he’d last dreamt of warm flesh. But still Spike kept catching himself thinking about the dark-haired, smart-mouthed little arsehole he’d shared his despair with so many months ago. Why he would think about Xander the most, when it was Buffy he had loved, and Buffy who had caused the most pain, Spike didn’t know. It might have been to do with the moments distraction Xander had given him, that *that* experience had been about forgetting wounds not opening them. He was just glad not to have thoughts of blonde slayers dancing through his head. And he wondered, only in passing, mind, if Xander still used humour to cover up the pain in his eyes, or whether things were good now, for him too.
********
Xander got out of bed and went into the bathroom. He turned on the cold water in the shower and then stared into the mirror. His reflection gave him no answers. This had to stop. Another dream about Spike. Another erotic dream. Another dream that Xander woke up from…longing. It had to stop.
Four months. It was four months ago. Xander rubbed his hand over his face. If he could just stop dreaming about…hard flesh, smooth skin…tight…Xander leant his head against the mirror for a moment, before stripping off and getting into the shower. After about two seconds he added hot water.
It was just because he was lonely and horny. That had to be why he was fantasising about Spike. Xander had refused to think about the sex. The sex had not been thought about at all. But now he’d started to catch himself dwelling on the dreams…elaborating on the dreams and adding reality. Fixing reality.
Xander let the warm water run over his face. Aside from his earlier attempts to get Anya back, Xander hadn’t looked at a girl, hadn’t been interested in a girl. It was only four months, he still had to get over Anya. But that was the problem…he was over Anya. He was fine. They’d both gotten on with their lives. The only person he’d been having any sort of groiny thoughts about lately was a bleached blonde male vampire. Especially now he’d sorted things out with Anya.
Shit.
It had to stop. For a start, no one had heard from Spike since he’d left. Xander had been the last to talk to him, and yeah, that had gone so well. Even if Xander did see Spike again, why would Spike actually have reciprocating feelings? The stuff they did hadn’t been about actually liking each other in that way. It had been about sex and getting over their respective exes, and heaps of other complicated issues that made Xander feel uncomfortable and guilty.
Xander knew all this, but it still didn’t stop him from either waking up achingly hard and yearning for the dream Spike, or waking up sticky and damp…and yearning for the dream Spike.
Xander banged his head against the shower stall. Maybe he just needed a life.
******
Spike sat in the departure lounge at Sydney airport. Well that was that. Now he’d been to all the colonies. He knew now why he and Dru hadn’t exactly bothered with Australia earlier. It was too sunny to be vampire friendly for one. He’d only given it a go since he’d managed to get by all right in southern California. And the night life wasn’t exactly L.A. though there was a bit of fun to be had, specially in the towns out west. All the same, there were other places to see. He was having a good time. Seeing the world, getting drunk in exotic places, finding exotic people who would do anything for a vampire bite. Including pay the equivalent of an airfare. Nice to know he could do it if they wanted it. If Spike thought that it wasn’t as fun now without anyone to share it with, he kept it to himself.
Spike had been across three continents in the past four months. If his unlife had to be a meaningless, loveless, chipped existence then at least he was making it interesting. The thought had crossed his mind of trying to get the chip out, but for some reason he hadn’t gotten around to it. Probably would when he got back to L.A. He had one more place to visit though. The boarding call came for his flight to London. Spike placed his now unneeded Lonely Planet Guide to Australia on the seat beside him and stood up. One way flight to London. He smirked. The idea of visiting Ripper had crossed his mind, but only in a malicious evil fiend kind of way. It had nothing to do with missing Sunnydale and irritatingly erotic dreams about dark haired boys. Because he sure as hell *didn’t* miss Sunnydale. He’d kicked that habit. And as for the dreams, Spike was going to get himself a really good therapist as soon as he got back L.A.
********
Buffy had not mentioned Spike since Xander had told her he wasn’t coming back. Dawn did however. Constantly. Still. Or so it seemed to Xander.
“Hey, do you think Spike is working for Angel now? Can I call Cordy and ask?”
“Hey, did Spike say if he was going to like come and visit even if he isn’t living here anymore?”
“Hey, did Spike, you know, mention me when you saw him?”
As much as Xander was glad someone else was missing the bleached wonder, that it wasn’t just him, he didn’t need the continual reminder of the fucked up visit and his own desire to see Spike.
Maybe he should see him. Just once. Get a reality check. Hey, if Spike laughed in his face it would definitely cure the so wrong feelings of fondness he was developing lately.
He had to do something. It was six months now. Anya was dating other people happily. The guys at work kept inviting him to dinner with the unattached girl friends of their significant others. And Xander wasn’t interested. He had to do something. Spike was the one with the obsessive personality. And *he* hadn’t returned to Sunnydale. Which should have been a major clue that the guy wasn’t having the naughty dream issues Xander was having.
*******
It had been a whim, a spur of the moment act, done in a fit of overconfidence and borne on by the magnanimous feeling of nostalgia and forgiveness that had filled Spike when the plane had landed in L.A. He’d been walked past a newsagent and happened to see the rack of postcards. And so he’d bought one. And sent it.
And now of course, three days later, he was waiting for the reply.
His note had been brief, to the point and deliberately casual:
“Niblet,
Everyone still alive?
Will be at this address til the end of the week. Let me know.
Spike.”
It had been sent to Dawn in an envelope, just in case the Slayer decided to play censor.
Spike had casually enquired at the hotel’s front desk about the procedure for receiving mail. Not that he particularly cared if Dawn wrote back or not. He didn’t give a toss about what was happening in Sunnydale. He only wanted to make sure Dawn still was little girl shaped and not a glowing blob of green. He didn’t particularly want to know about anyone *else*. And he wasn’t listening for knocks on the hotel room door, because he didn’t subconsciously think that, given the address, *someone* might come and visit him. That would be pathetic and not worthy of new-improved ex-Sunnydale Spike.
Besides, she might not have gotten his postcard yet. Or her reply might still be in the mail. Still, the post wasn’t that slow in the good ole US of A, even with anthrax scares and heightened security. She might have decided not to reply. Or worse, she might not be there to receive it. Might not be able to receive it.
Stupid, bloody, stupid thing to do.
*******
Xander knew exactly twenty-five seconds after Dawn received the letter that it was from Spike.
Her squeal of delight was ear-splitting.
“Spike sent me a postcard!”
Xander, to his credit, managed to not even look curious.
“And where is the bleached menace?” Buffy had asked dryly, a touch of fondness in her tone.
“L.A. He wants to know how we are. He gave me a return address.”
Xander felt like everyone was looking at him, seeing how he’d react. Which was stupid of course. Why would anyone care what he thought of Spike providing an address?
So he didn’t react.
“What did he say Dawnie?” Willow asked. Good old Wills thought Xander.
“He said, and I quote: ‘Niblet, everyone still alive? Will be at this address til the end of the week. Let me know. Spike.’”
“Short and to the point,” commented Buffy.
Xander hadn’t expected a personal message. But you know, a mention might have been…ok, completely out of the question.
“I’d better write back to him. You all say hi right? Man, so much has happened.” She sat down at the table and opened her note book.
Xander concentrated on his book. He would not ask to look at the card. He would not ask to look at the card. Not looking at the card. Not squinting to read the address from across the table…
“Hey Dawnster, can I have a look?” he asked.
DAMN!