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By Jackson
Xander peered out through a gap in the wooden slats that had been haphazardly nailed over the windows of the ramshackle abandoned gas station. The great 'run away' plan had failed, utterly and completely. The knights outside surrounded the building, pacing restlessly, held back by the magic barrier Willow had erected, while they were inside, cornered like rats in a trap with no transport, no weapons and no plan. Although his sickness had faded his stomach was still tensed in a huge tight knot. It had been one disaster after another, first the attack which had led to them losing the R.V, then the frantic fight they'd had in here before Willow had got the barrier up, followed by Buffy's cold, tense confrontation with the General they had captured. The General wasn't going to stop his knights from attacking them until Dawn was dead. Pretty ironic that although both groups were desperate to keep Dawn from Glory they had still ended up on opposite sides.
Although they now had a moment to re-group none of them could relax. He was charged with nerves but had no outlet for his energy, there was nothing they could do but wait for the barrier to break or fade away, and for the knights to come charging in. Not to mention Glory would be searching for them by now. He almost wished the battle was happening, it would be better than it looming over them like this. He wondered vaguely if he was a candidate for a nervous breakdown. Probably, but he couldn't flake out now, they had more important things to worry about.
He turned away from the window, to look at Giles. Giles had been impaled with a spear during the attack on the R.V and was bleeding heavily, and although Xander tried to stay calm - freaking out wasn't going to help anyone - dread kept clutching at him, paralysing him with agonising worry. Giles looked pretty bad. At least the knights had allowed them to send for help for him, he just wished help would hurry up and get here.
Xander tore his eyes away from Giles to check on the others. Buffy was pacing anxiously, biting her lip so hard tiny drops of blood formed under the pressure, the angry red standing out garishly against her pale strained face. Willow had her arms wrapped around Tara who stared ahead blankly, oblivious to Willow's embrace. Dawn was huddled in the corner next to Spike. Xander's eyes flickered as they lingered on Spike. Spike had also been injured in the attack, his hands had been badly cut when he had grabbed hold of a sword to stop it from impaling Buffy in her head. Plus despite the knights being human he had thrown a punch at one, which must have given him one hell of a headache.
/That was very brave of him./ A small voice in his head whispered. That voice had been whispering a lot of things like that the past few hours. Ever since he'd first stepped into the R.V and been brought face to face with all the feelings he'd so stubbornly refused to acknowledge. He forced himself to look away before Spike became aware of his gaze, he didn't have time to think about this now - not while Giles lay bleeding silently and ominously.
He turned again to look back out of the small gap and to his immense relief he saw the brightness of headlights cut through the dark.
"Buffy, he's here."
Buffy ceased her pacing, and nodded. "Will?"
The girls slipped outside to open up a door in the barrier as Ben, looking around him nervously at the gathering of the knights around the building, climbed out of his car.
***
Thankfully Ben seemed to take all this weirdness in his stride with impressive calmness, working away, stemming the bleeding, bandaging Giles up and injecting him with something to numb the pain, while all the time laying on the charm with the Buffster. Pretty smooth of Ben. Xander felt a tiny smile touch his mouth as his gripping anxiety about Giles eased. Ben seemed like a good guy, and having a doctor around was always handy. Buffy obviously liked him, maybe this time she'd hit the jackpot. It was kind of nice that in the midst of all this hellish uncertainty something good was beginning. Buffy was smiling at Ben, her eyes filled with gratitude and warmth, and a spark that could so easily become something more, while Ben was looking at Buffy as though he was just falling into her. In an effort to give them a little more privacy Xander let his eyes slide away from them. It felt almost like trespassing to watch them when they were looking at each other like that.
With a mighty effort he managed to stop himself from looking across the room to where Spike's tense, black leather clad form was. Instead he found himself watching Dawn. Sometimes it was impossible to believe that this fragile-looking young girl was the cause of all this, that she was made from mystic energy so precious that the monks had believed she could be a powerful force for good and so dangerous that the knights would fight and die to stop her from falling into Glory's hands. He loved her dearly, as though she were his own sister, but how much of that was real and how much was false memories? Whatever - it didn't matter. The General said she was the Key no matter what form she had been pressed into - well as far as he was concerned she was Dawn, no matter what she was made from.
She must have sensed his eyes on her, because she turned to face him and as he flashed her a small reassuring smile she came over to him.
***
Spike slumped moodily against the wall and made a renewed effort to stay calm as the pressure inside him to roar, break something, fight someone, mounted steadily. This waiting was hard on everyone, all charged up with nowhere to go, but he felt like for him it had an extra dimension of frustration. His demon was rattling in its cage angrily - desperate to be out and free and tearing through the bastards who had them trapped. Starting with the wanker General in the next room who spoke about Dawn so coldly and emptily. If only he didn't have this fucking chip, he'd slash a bloody swath through those knights, steal the doc's car - get Dawn and Xander to safety ...
His fists tried to clench and the stab of pain from his injured hands brought him back to the reality of the situation. He was totally helpless against the knights, trapped in here with his back against the wall and Xander everywhere he looked, and as the knights outside worked out a way to kick the door down, and slaughter them all, Slayer refused to move, plan, do anything but wait and make googly eyes at the idiot doc! Did she think that the knights were going to go away if she waited long enough? Not bloody likely, the only thing on their mind was destroying the Key.
He instinctively looked up for Dawn to reassure himself she was still safe and saw her over the other side of the room, heading towards Xander. Despite a small twinge of guilt, knowing that Dawn wouldn't like it, he couldn't stop himself from tuning into their conversation.
"Hey," Spike heard Xander say comfortingly to her. "You okay Dawnster?"
Dawn gave a slight shiver as she avoided the question. "I think Giles is looking better."
"Sure he is - Giles is pretty tough for a member of the tea and scones brigade." Xander spoke lightly, but Dawn didn't respond to his cheer. Spike glanced up surreptitiously, Dawn had a look on her face that broke his heart, weary and guilty and frightened. For a moment she looked old.
/C'mon Xander/ Spike silently pleaded. /Stop the jokes, open your eyes and help the girl will you?/
"Hey," Xander said seriously as he realised the depth of Dawn's distress. "Don't worry, everything is gonna be okay."
"How?" she asked hopelessly.
"We'll find a way," Xander replied determinedly, sounding indestructibly positive. "No way will we let anything happen to you. We're not going to let you go."
Dawn gave Xander a small, grateful smile. Spike felt a surge of bittersweet relief as she looked comforted. Of course they hadn't needed him over there. They were doing just fine without him.
"Are *you* okay?" Dawn asked Xander.
"Sure," Xander replied casually.
"Spike's not."
Spike started with shock, his eyes widening. He couldn't believe that Dawn had just said that! Part of him was embarrassed and a little annoyed at her interference, another part was deeply touched that she cared enough about him to speak up for him, and more than either of them was the overwhelming, powerful surge of hope as he listened, transfixed, for Xander's reply.
/Please/ he begged silently. /Please, give me something. Anything .../
"Oh," Xander said quietly. "Well maybe I don't care how Spike is feeling."
Spike flinched as the words slashed into him, even as he rolled his eyes in bitter mockery at his own stupidity. What else had he expected? Unable to bear listening to anymore, he stumbled blindly away.
***
As he spoke, out of the corner of his eye Xander saw Spike flinch, and knew, as he'd suspected all along, that Spike had been listening to their conversation. Damn vampire hearing. But he didn't have to worry about that anymore as Spike blundered from the room.
/Serves him right for listening/ Xander thought defensively, but it was an empty consolation. Spike was hurting. The thought didn't give him any savage pleasure anymore and a cold touch of fear ran down his spine. He'd built these walls of hate thick and high around him to keep him safe, and now they were shaking around him.
"Please make up with him." Dawn said quietly. "He's really sorry and he's trying so hard to make it right. Don't hate him anymore."
"What else am I gonna do? I think we all saw how well the other thing worked out."
"You could just be friends," Dawn said hopefully.
Xander closed his eyes briefly in despair. He knew she meant well, but offering sugar-sweet suggestions that couldn't even begin to deal with utter, devastating, raging heartbreak wasn't helping. For a moment he was barely even aware of Dawn next to him, in his head he was seeing himself, drunk and drowning, so much hurt, blood pouring from his arm, the pain where he had sliced his arm, nothing compared to the pain in his heart.
"I can't be friends with him."
"Well okay maybe not friends," Dawn said, frowning a little as she struggled to explain what she meant. "But ... forgive him. All he wants is to make things right with you."
And her words weren't sugar or useless anymore, as she spoke the walls shook around him, as though each word was a bash against them.
"If it's revenge you want - then you've got it." Dawn continued. "You're really hurting him, but things are really bad and scary right now, and we don't know how it's going to end. You don't have to ... you know ... with him again, but if you can let him know that he hasn't been trying for nothing ... well I wouldn't waste your chance, because ... I think you want to take it."
His defences were crumbling, memories crowded in of all the things he'd tried to block out but just kept pressing against him, demanding to be acknowledged. Spike who had loved him, Spike who had admitted he'd been a real bastard but apologised and swore to make it up to him. Spike who had grabbed onto a sword to save Buffy and been tortured by Glory for Dawn and for *him* and all this good, all this courage had stemmed from Spike's 'plan'. It didn't make the pain Spike had caused him any less heart-rending, but it made it less meaningless. Even now Spike was trying so hard, suffering along with him as he tried to put things right and Xander couldn't bear to think of him hurting. He couldn't go back - the relationship was dead, and he would never be able to bear to be so vulnerable with Spike again, but he didn't want Spike to hurt anymore because of him, and even as he articulated these feelings in his head forgiveness finally streamed though him as the walls crashed down.
His hands that had been tightened into fists relaxed, his shoulders loosened, and the relentless, unbearable tension that had been relentlessly gnawing inside him, making him frustrated and furious, vanished. Folded up and flew away with a whisper.
It felt very strange to be out from his protective barrier. It was quiet without the relentless roar of his anger and hurt, he felt exposed, raw and shaky, but somehow more himself than he had been for a long time. Dawn smiled supportively at him, sensing his change of heart and he felt a little stronger. How strange it was that *Dawn* of all people was able to help him let go. Not Buffy, or Willow or Giles, in the end help came from where he had least expected to find it. Xander looked at her for a moment. "Y'know what? I am really glad the monks sent you to us."
Dawn's eyes glowed with surprise and pleasure as he kissed her lightly on the forehead.
***
Spike stood in the dark, chilly back room, ignoring the General who was tied up in here, as he fiercely willed himself to regain his composure although it felt like his rack was being tightened an extra couple of hundred notches. Of course he could handle this - he could handle anything, but right now he needed a moment to give his poor aching heart a chance to patch itself up, to regain his customary assurance. His hands hurt. He was tired and lonely, heartsick and sad. He'd tried so hard but it was all for nothing and it hurt. It hurt.
The moment stretched on and his composure remained just out of reach. After a while he tried to light a smoke, anything to stop himself from breaking down but his hands hurt so badly he couldn't get the grip necessary on the lighter to spark it up.
"Ow," he whispered, despising himself for such pitiful weakness, when Xander entered the room, standing in the doorway, his eyes glancing briefly at the General before coming to rest thoughtfully on him. Spike furiously refused to look up. If he had come in here to unleash more vitriolic abuse he didn't want it.
Xander didn't say anything, but he moved. He stepped up to him, taking the lighter from him gently, but firmly. Spike finally managed to look up at him warily. Xander remained beside him, looking at him without the crackling loathing that had been emanating from him for so long.
Spike looked at the lighter still nestled in Xander's hand. "Thanks," he said, his voice coming out almost casually.
The lighter sparked under Xander's fingers and Spike leaned in briefly, guiding his cigarette to the flame. Couldn't look Xander in the eyes. Couldn't or else he'd end up doing something stupid. The tip of the cigarette glowed in the darkness of the room and Xander snapped the lighter closed as Spike took a drag, waiting.
"You know, those things'll kill you," Xander said, breaking the silence with reassuring awkwardness as he nodded to the cigarette.
Fortunately, since words were beyond him, Spike didn't have to reply to that, he merely arched an eyebrow. /Keep cool. Keep unemotional. Keep safe./
"Oh. Right," Xander said as he thought processed that sentence, then nothing more. The abuse didn't come - and cautiously Spike acknowledged that it didn't feel like it was going to come. There was no bitterness or searing tension polluting the air, and somehow it was deeply comforting that Xander was being ... well *Xander* with him again.
They stood side by side, leaning against the wall, as Spike inhaled. The acrid smoke filled his lungs, and suddenly he felt a little better, though maybe it didn't really have anything to do with smoking.
"I mention today how much I don't like you?" Xander said as he stared into the middle distance.
Spike felt a small smile touch his mouth. "You mighta let it slip in ... " He looked at Xander. "Once or twice."
Xander looked at him and smiled back. A real smile - the kind he hadn't seen from Xander for a long time, and suddenly he wanted to laugh, howl with relief, and weep because with that tiny, wordless exchange he heard everything Xander couldn't find the words to say.
He wanted to babble out his thanks, his feelings, try to explain what was in his heart but there were no words that could begin to cover it and he was afraid of saying something stupid, making some passionate proclamation that would only upset Xander, so he stayed silent, still, and despite all the overwhelming relief, sadness welled up as well. Sadness that he already knew would never really leave him. He may have been forgiven, but Xander wasn't going to come back. An aching loss for what might have been wrenched inside him, as they stood, without touching, beside each other, behaving so politely, when once this dark boy had loved him so much, had laid in his arms, exhausted, sated and glowing.
"How're your feelers?" Xander asked.
Spike tensed again as his thoughts were drawn back to the danger they were all in right now. "Nothing compared to the little bits we're gonna get chopped into when the Renaissance Faire kicks the door in. And here we bloody sit."
"It's not like we got much of a choice," Xander pointed out.
"Could make a break for it!" Spike said desperately, all the emotion he dared not reveal to Xander firing him up as he let off steam by lashing out against their situation. He gestured to their captive. "Use General Armor-All as a shield, get to the doc's car, and ..."
"Great plan," Xander interrupted. "And while all the hacking and slashing's going on, what are you gonna be doing, huh? Throwing migraines at 'em?"
"Look, we stay here, we all die!" /*You'll* die you idiot and d'you think I could stand it?/ "At least this way, some of us /you/ might get ..."
"No."
Buffy's voice cut into their exchange and they both jumped as guiltily as if she'd caught them plotting to hand Dawn over to the knights for a little slice and dice while they snuck out the back way. They spun around to see her standing in the doorway.
"We're all gonna make it," she said grimly. "I'm not losing anyone."
Spike sighed. When it came to sheer bloody determination you couldn't beat the Slayer - but still ...
"Check the supplies." Buffy ordered coldly. "See if anyone's hungry."
They exchanged a glance, but walked out of the room without attempting to argue with her. However before they reached the next room. Spike grabbed Xander's arm, pulling into a small unlit cubby away from the others.
"Hey - what ...?" Xander yelped startled, and instantly on edge.
Spike quickly let go of his arm, /not gonna fuck it up - not gonna upset him/ forcing himself to keep calm, determined not to scare Xander off the second they'd begun to make peace, but still blocked his way out, speaking rapidly.
"Listen we could get out Xander, you and me, the knights out there don't care about us, we could get past 'em ..."
"What?" Xander exclaimed in confusion. "What are you talking about? What about Dawn?"
"Slayer can look after her until ..."
"Gee its nice to see how deep your loyalty goes Spike!"
"*Loyalty*?" Spike repeated incredulously. "You know I'd protect her until the end of the world."
"So why do you want to run out on her now?" Xander questioned grimly, folding his arms.
"I'm not running out on her," Spike spelled out. "I'm trying to save *you*." Despite his determination to stay cool and unemotional in order not to disturb this delicate balance they had just reached he couldn't stop the passionate words from flowing, the situation was too desperate. "Do you think I could stand it if anything happened to you? I'll come back to help the others when you're safe!"
"Oh." Xander said softly.
For a long moment their eyes locked on to each others, and something swelled up in Spike's heart, something hot and tight and full of longing, then Xander uncomfortably broke the gaze. "But no way. I'm not leaving my friends."
Spike rolled his eyes in furious exasperation as his frustration reached boiling point. "Look it's not like you can do anything! What good is you getting killed gonna do them?"
"Thanks Spike," Xander said, annoyance masking his hurt. "But I can do more than you against these guys, and useless or not I'm staying - and if you can't get that then I guess you really don't understand loyalty."
"You're a bloody fine one to talk about loyalty!" Spike snapped before he could stop himself, and shit here he was fucking things up *again* but he couldn't help it. The past weeks had been hell for him as well, and the words he'd repressed for so long were hurtling out of his mouth like lemmings off a cliff.
"What?" Xander questioned angrily.
"What happened to all those promises *you* made? All that stuff you said ..."
"Yeah I think that was *before* I found your stalker closet of my best friend!" Xander snarled.
"I burnt it!" Spike hissed furiously. "Y'know you're not the only one that's been through hell. Do you know what it's been like while you've been so busy hatin' me? It's not been a bloody joy to behold, I've taken a beating from a Slayer, abuse from the witch, threats from the watcher, a punching from you, and, oh yeah, *torture* from Glory, all for *you* - you want to see the scars?"
"You want to see mine?" Xander burst out furiously, and his dark eyes weren't polite or cold or empty anymore but brilliant, burning with passion.
"What the hell are you talking about?"
"You're not the only one that's faced up to Glory okay? I went after her for you!"
"What?" Spike snorted in disbelief. "Yeah as if you'd do that for me ..."
"How do you think I got these?" Xander viciously pulled his shirt away to show bruises coming up on his throat as his voice flowed on in an unstoppable tide. "Or had a dislocated shoulder, or a knife nearly embedded in my head? I went after her for *you*- after everything you've done to me, so don't tell *me* about loyalty or love or ..."
Xander stopped.
Spike was motionless, so was Xander, as though they were standing on a precipice and the slightest movement would have them tumbling down. Spike stared at Xander, he stared back. His too-long dark hair was falling into his eyes, which were just full of that confused look he'd missed so much as Xander tried to work out what had just happened between them. Always trying to make sense of stuff, that was Xander, but he was beyond making sense of it, there was no sense in any of this, all he knew was that Xander had risked his life for him. For loyalty, for love, and he wanted to touch him so badly he ached inside.
"Let me see," he said quietly, reaching his hand out, stopping just before his hand brushed against the bruised skin on Xander's neck.
Xander stared at him blankly as though he'd just spoken in a different language he didn't understand, then he shook his head as he fumbled with his shirt to try and hide his injuries again. "No - it's not - it doesn't matter. I should ..."
"Xander."
Xander stopped talking.
"Please."
Xander swallowed hard. " A-alright." He glanced away, looking at the floor as though the words were just too difficult to get out while he was looking at him. "But let me look at your hands."
Spike nodded.
***
Xander didn't know what he was doing. Why he had told Spike about him going after Glory, why he was letting this happen. This wasn't something that should be happening if the relationship was dead, but his mind, which should have been screaming at him to stop this, was silent.
The light was dim in here and outside this small private space he could sense the others moving, talking, but they felt a million miles away, as though he and Spike had slipped sideways into another dimension. Wordlessly Spike let him untie his bandaging on his hands. Xander traced over the deep, angry welts gently with his fingers, those physical marks of how hard he'd tried to make things right. He wanted to press a kiss into his palm but didn't. He re-tied the bandages tighter, more carefully.
He didn't dare look up. He could sense Spike's eyes on him. Watching him with a kind of helpless aching want and it made him feel scared, weak and powerful at the same time, and more than that - it made him aware of feelings that he'd really hoped he'd pushed down until he'd pushed them away and he couldn't face them - he was too frightened to face them. Instead he looked at his hands still gently clasping Spike's. Unable to stop himself he slowly ran his hands up over Spike's leather clad arms, across his shoulders, down his chest to his stomach. Spike was silent, perfectly still as they both watched his hands move, running over this body that he'd known so well, and he wanted to feel the skin under these clothes so badly it hurt, and he was tired of *thinking*, thinking he should stop, thinking of all the bad things this could lead to. He lifted Spike's T-shirt, and this definitely shouldn't be happening, yet it was. He was making it happen. His breath was short as he reached out his free hand, tentatively letting his fingers brush over Spike's stomach. Spike inhaled slowly, raggedly as he touched him, as though his hand tracing over Spike's skin brought relief from all the pain. Spike's skin was still cool, but not the flowing tactile sensation of satin he remembered, now it was broken up with rough scarring.
"Been through a lot," Xander said through the lump in his throat as his fingers skimmed over the healing wounds gently.
"Yeah," Spike replied quietly. "Ripped apart inside I was. Crying into my pillow."
"You'll heal." Xander said as his eyes blurred, his shaking hand still sliding over Spike's stomach.
"Don't know." The words came out haltingly, as though Spike was finding talking just as difficult as he was. "Don't think I'll ever really get over this one."
"You really hurt?" he asked, managing to somehow get the words out even as his voice emerged cracked and wavering.
"Yeah." Spike said brokenly. "So much. You can't imagine."
"I don't have to imagine."
He still didn't look up - too afraid that once he looked up he would be lost forever.
Spike's hands reached out to his, halting his movements, tracing over his wrists, brushing over the scar that remained from the night with the glass.
"Glory?" Spike asked.
Xander shook his head hard. There was a long, long pause.
Spike's hand cupped his cheek, gently lifting his face up, brushing back his hair to look at the healing gash where the knife had torn a path, tilting his face slightly to examine the bruising on his throat. Spike, gentle and slow, stroked along the line of his bruised neck and shoulder. Xander swallowed hard and closed his eyes. It was all too much, the dark and the warmth, the silence and stillness after so many sleepless nights, and too much to drink and too many hangovers and too much frantic activity. He wanted to speak but didn't dare. He couldn't let it out - if he did he'd never stop. The too-tight spring that had been coiled up inside him was unwinding, but too far, soon he was just going to collapse. Spike's thumb gently rubbed at his collarbone and he opened his eyes.
"I am sorry Xander." Spike said, and he knew Spike had seen further then he wanted him to as his eyes, his voice radiated with painful, heartbreaking sincerity. "I'm sorry for everything."
After a long moment Xander managed to speak. "I'm not. Not for everything."
He looked up. Blue eyes locked onto brown as memories blasted between them, longing, desire, *want* and the gentle looks Ben and Buffy had been exchanging were *nothing* compared to this. That was a spark - this was a *blaze*, it slammed into him with such force the outside world spun away and disappeared, and he wasn't half dead and cold anymore, couldn't be - not when this, whatever the hell it was between them triumphantly surged up - not dead, never dead but powerfully, vibrantly, spectacularly *alive*. Spike's eyes were scorching blue beams, his hands holding on to him tighter than ever and although he knew Spike's hands should feel cool they felt hot - incredibly hot, searing heat pressing through his clothes, branding his skin and he was falling, falling into the heat, the dark, and those passionate fiery eyes.
"Xander ..."
Spike spoke, then stopped suddenly, struggling to keep the words back, but he didn't want Spike to hold the words back, he wanted to fall and fall and never come back out, because right now he was vulnerable and floating and maybe he was losing it, and that was fine with him ...
"Spike," he managed to form the word, his speech clumsy, his mouth dry, his heart thudding double time. "I ... "
"You don't understand, I gotta get out, open a door *now*!"
The voice, panic stricken and loud burst in between them and they snapped away from each other as though an unseen force had yanked them apart. Propelled back to reality the chill of the room flooded over Xander again and the sounds from the next room no longer seemed a million miles away, they were damn close and damn loud.
Spike shot out of the cubby and he followed a step after to see Ben, no longer calm and efficient but pale and sweating, desperately whipping his head around the room, trying to find an escape route. Spike flew over to Dawn's side with Buffy. Xander couldn't quite get his feet to work, still shell shocked and stunned from whatever it was in there that had happened, he watched anxiously from the doorway.
"What happened?" Buffy asked in confusion.
"I-I don't know, he just freaked out." Dawn said panicked.
"Let me out!" Ben cried out frantically.
"Okay!" Buffy snapped to a decision. "Will, open a door!"
But before Willow could even draw breath, before Xander could move from his stunned state, before anyone could try to calm Ben down, he cried out desperately in denial, putting his hands to his head, as though trying to cram something back in and suddenly ... suddenly ...
Xander froze as the ice cold panic flew over his body, and no, no this wasn't real it was some awful, awful hallucination because this couldn't be happening they couldn't be trapped here with the thing they were running from ...
Glory stretched easily, gazing around herself, taking in her surroundings. As her eyes fell on Dawn a smile began to creep across her face. "Well, what do you know. Little Ben finally did something right."
"The beast!" The General yelled hoarsely.
Glory glanced over at him. "Hey, it's Gregor!" She grabbed a hubcap that was hanging on the wall nearby and threw it like a Frisbee. Xander's shocked stare could do no more than track it as it flew at the General. There was a sick, wet, crunch.
"Now it's not." Glory said happily.
Spike broke out of his horrified paralysis and flew at Glory with a yell.
/No, Spike!/ Xander reacted a split second later, throwing himself after him, no *way* was he letting Spike die after all this! Glory swatted Spike aside casually and he crashed backward into Xander.
Under Spike's force he smacked into the wall, sharply rapping his head. For a second he lay disorientated, unsure of where he was, all he could see was the dark, Spike's body on top of him ... He could almost believe he'd dreamt the last couple of weeks, that they were back in Spike's crypt the night before everything had descended into hell.
Spike swiftly rolled up to his feet, extending his hand to Xander. He shook off his fog, ashamed of his momentary confusion, and pathetic wish. Unfortunately this was all too real. He grasped Spike's hand firmly as Spike pulled him up. Sounds of shrieks and fighting came in from outside. Dawn, Glory and Buffy had all gone, he was about to race outside to help when Buffy burst back in: "Willow! Get it down, now!"
Willow raised her head and Xander took an instinctive step back as the magic crackled around her, her eyes black and dense with power. "Hear, hear my plea. Circling arm protecting me."
Buffy raced back outside and he shot after her, then slammed to a stop.
Glory and Dawn had vanished. Buffy was picking her way slowly through the bodies of the knights. Dead. All dead.
"The car," Spike was standing beside him, and he could sense Spike shoving aside his shock to concentrate on the basics, getting Dawn back. Spike impatiently shook him to get him to snap back to reality. "Get the keys!"
Automatically he obeyed, shoving aside his horror as he and Spike pelted over to the car. His heart, which was still trying to catch up with the shocks, thudded heavily in his chest. He tried the car door fruitlessly.
"Locked - Spike it's locked!"
"Fuck." Spike swore articulately, slamming his hands against the car in frustration. "*Fuck*" he swore again as the jolt jarred his injuries. "Get back to the Slayer - see what she thinks we should do now."
They ran back, his breath was sounding in harsh gasps. All this pointless running back and forth was more terrifying than anything. It only underlined that every second was taking Dawn further away from them and they were at an utter loss to know what to do now. They were cast adrift with no plan, no guidance, no clue, but Buffy would know what they should do.
They shot back over to Buffy then stopped. Willow was pleading helplessly with her as she sat on the ground amid all the corpses, her eyes wide and empty as tears trickled down her face.
Xander paced about the dimly lit shack restlessly. The feverish useless activity had ceased now. They had to keep cool, think clearly. They weren't going to Dawn back, not right now, and certainly not with Buffy like this. She had allowed them to lead her into the gas station, but remained in her zombie-like state. They had yelled and pleaded, shaken her and embraced her tightly. Hard, frightened hugs with no comfort in them, only desperation. Not so much as a flicker of response had come from her. He was trying to avoid touching her now, it was a skin crawling sensation to feel her warmth, her breath yet know if he jabbed a pin in her she wouldn't flinch. The mind, the spirit that dwelled inside this body had retreated into some far away place inside herself and all that was left out here was her shell and her tortured eyes.
Panic rose in him again but he forced it down. Panicking wasn't going to help, he had to stay calm, cool, collected, but it was hard when the toxic fear was seeping through his body, when he felt trapped and smothered enough to scream and every second ticking by cranked it up another unbearable notch. Glory had Dawn and they were doing *nothing*.
"Better part of a century spent in delinquency just paid off," Spike said, breaking the tense silence as he re-entered the gas station. "Hot-wired Ben's auto. Who's for gettin' the hell out of here?"
"All in favour, let's do it," Xander agreed fervently. He loathed this place so much he could hardly stand still. They had been trapped in here way too long, now the doors were open he could barely restrain himself from leaping into the car. He glanced at Giles who was looking like hell. He was seriously worried about Giles, he could barely move and kept drifting in and out of consciousness. "You good to go?"
"Oh, don't worry about me," Giles said painfully as with a palpable effort he tried to regain focus. "How's Buffy?"
"The same," Xander turned to look at her helplessly. "Still."
"It's been almost a half an hour," Willow said nervously.
"The Slayer's gonna be all right, won't she?" Spike asked with concern. Xander was amazed, then disgusted with himself as an unforgivable pang of jealousy shot through him.
"You should try it again, Will," he said quickly, trying to distract himself from his chaotic emotions. What the hell was the *matter* with him?
"All right," Willow sighed, "but ... I'm not even sure she's, you know ... really in there."
"Try," Xander asked quietly. Willow sighed and stepped forward, kneeling on the ground in front of Buffy.
"Can you hear me? Buffy!"
Buffy stared blankly ahead. Unseeing, unhearing.
"Buffy!" Spike joined in. No response.
Spike circled them helplessly, totally at a loss. "She can't just be brain-dead. I mean ... she's still Buffy, somewhere in there, right?"
No one answered him.
"Spike, come on," Xander said tersely. "We're not gonna get Dawn back by sittin' around here."
"You're not gonna get Dawn back any way you slice it, Harris," Spike snapped. "It's for Buffy to decide."
"Good, panic. That oughta help!" he shot back, hiding the hurt as Spike's sharp tone lashed like a whip across his heart. If he'd been thinking clearly he might have remembered his own waspish behaviour in the R.V as Spike's apparent composure had driven him wild, but right now the only thing he was really thinking about was holding his shredding nerves together long enough to help Dawn, and how Spike was *not* helping.
Spike continued to pace restlessly about the room, Xander tried to ignore him but he was hyper aware of Spike's every movement. Each step Spike took set his teeth a little further on edge, stretching his too-thin veneer of self control to breaking point. Irrationally he resented that Spike could show his edginess so easily while he had to stay calm and helpful like a good Scooby should. In fact right now he was resenting a hell of a lot to do with Spike. What the hell was going on in Spike's head? Jumping down his throat now when less than an hour ago he'd been saying ... saying ...
Xander's mind shut down protectively. Nothing had been said. Nothing, nothing and less than nothing, and even if something had been said it was over, a moments madness never to be repeated.
"We should move her. Unless we shouldn't. Should we?" Willow asked, ignoring the sharply rising tension between the ex-lovers.
Xander shrugged with weary frustration. "I am so large with not knowing." Yeah, God forbid he might actually be able to suggest something helpful. He cast another desperate look to the moonlight and fresh air outside. If they stayed in this dark, cramped shack a second longer he was going to kick down every derelict wall in the place.
"It's impossible to know for sure," Giles said, struggling for breath. He had managed to pull himself into a sitting position. Deep pain lines were etched on his face but they were overshadowed with worry for Buffy. "Losing Dawn, after all that Buffy's been through ... I think it's pushed her too far into some sort of catatonia."
Spike rolled his eyes impatiently. "You don't need a diploma to see that. Snap her out of it." He grabbed Buffy by the shoulders, vigourously shaking her.
"Buffy! Oi, rise and shine, love!"
Buffy flopped back and forth under his rough grip like a doll. With every shake the anger inside Xander bubbled a little hotter, a little higher.
"Spike..." Willow began warningly.
"Come on, people," Spike snapped angrily. "Girl's endowed with Slayer strength. It's hardly the time to get dainty! Buffy!" He shook her harder.
"We tried that!" Xander yelled in agitation.
Spike ignored him, his hand shot out. The loud crack sounded like a gunshot as he slapped Buffy hard across the face, almost simultaneously yelling with pain as his chip activated. Xander's control shattered as the pent up fury erupted, it propelled him over to Spike with a speed that was almost vampiric. He grabbed Spike, hauling him away from Buffy's vacant form so viciously he flew back a few steps. He was shaking with anger and wasn't even sure what he was so angry with Spike for - if it was really about him hitting Buffy, or about him stupidly hurting himself for setting the chip off, or maybe it was really about what had happened between them earlier.
Because as hard as he tried not to think about it his mind kept flashing back. Back to his hand sliding over Spike's skin, that had been just as cool as he remembered. Back to the soft words that said one thing and meant another and he *hated* it, had to do something to make *stop*.
"Are you *insane*?" he raged, yelling in Spike's pale, perfect face as though his burning anger would somehow melt the memories of cool skin. "We could be dealing with neurological damage here. You want to kill her?"
"We have to do something, I can't just sit here watching!" Spike yelled back, his voice shaking, his eyes burning like two blue flames. "*You* waste time with kid gloves. I'm willing to wager, when all is said and done, Buffy likes it rough!"
And he knew it was coming, knew that look on Spike's face, he waited for it, every muscle in his body tensed, wanting to hear it, wanting to rain blows on him until all these feelings went away and maybe then he would be at peace ...
Spike mouthed at Xander. "Like you."
Xander flew at him.
***
Spike's head snapped back under the blow as Xander's fist smashed into his face, and crazily, he welcomed the blast of pain, hell he'd practically been begging for it. It felt like anger. It felt like passion. It *felt*, and right now he needed that, needed to feel something other than terrified, crazy with worry about Dawn, no sodding clue what to do next, inside out and upside down and everywhere he turned Xander was there, torturing him, taunting him.
He flew back at Xander and they grappled furiously, rough and despairing as he tried wordlessly to pour out all the feelings he couldn't begin to explain, but he never made a move to hit him back. He didn't want to hurt him ever again. He didn't even know why he'd lashed out at Xander, just that he'd had to, because he couldn't take another second of this. Xander acting so bloody calm, brushing off what had happened between them in the dark enclosure like it was nothing, the knowledge that Xander had been so fucking *stupid* as to risk his life and take on Glory for him, and most of all he couldn't take that scar on Xander's wrist, yet it was seared into his mind, a scar that somehow he was totally responsible for. Sick with guilt, remorse and anger, he deserved every punch Xander threw at him, he *wanted* to be hit, and most of all he just wanted to feel him close, even if it was like this. Xander's body was burning hot - pressed against him without restraint as they lurched against each other and he felt like crying and felt like screaming, and wanted to hold Xander so tight he'd never get away again ...
"Separate."
At Red's icy command a powerful, invisible force came between them driving them apart. It propelled them swiftly and suddenly away from each other, throwing them to opposite sides of the room. Suddenly bereft, alone, the cold snapped forward to meet him as Xander was wrenched from him. They both turned to stare at Willow. She looked at them grimly.
"Buffy's out," Willow summed up coldly."Glory has Dawn. Sometime real soon, she's gonna use Dawn to tear down the barrier between every dimension there is. So if you two wanna fight, do it after the world ends, okay?"
Spike dropped his eyes from hers. He was *not* loving this. Shame, a feeling he hadn't had much to do with until he'd fallen in love Xander-bloody-Harris, had him writhing in it's grip yet again. Willow was right, later, when they had Nibblet back, then he could pick fights, wail, and wallow in emotion. Right now he had to ignore his broken heart and think with his head. He owed Dawn that much.
But it still hurt. And that was something he was helpless to stop.
Xander defensively re-adjusted his clothes, shooting furious glares over at him, but some clarity had returned to both of them. They remained apart.
"All right," Willow continued after a moment. "First we head back to Sunnydale. Xander'll take Giles to a hospital, Spike, you find Glory. Check her apartment, see if she's still there."
Oh *shit*. Out of all the places in the world she had to send him there? He never wanted to see Glory's place again. He saw it often enough in his nightmares.
/Oh come on!/ he frantically tried to fire up his fighting spirit. /Stop acting like a bloody nancyboy. This is nothing, I can handle Glory. Maybe even I'll be able to get a little payback. Show the bitch that when she messes with my Dawn, with my *Xander* then she's got me to deal with/.
"Try anything stupid, like payback," Willow continued as if she was reading his mind, "and I will get Very Cranky."
His eyebrows rose nervously. The last time he had heard that particular tone in Willow's voice she had been threatening to rip out his heart and set it on fire. All right then. No payback. Part of him, a small, sore, afraid part, the part that still had nightmares, the part that had never really managed to break through the chains Glory had bound him with, was incredibly relieved.
Willow's eyes swept over them all. "Everyone clear?"
Xander cautiously raised his hand.
"Xander," Willow acknowledged.
"Uh, what will you do?"
"I'll help Buffy."
"Okay then," Xander said, with the air of a man who knows not to push his luck any further.
"The world is spinning," Tara cried out unexpectedly, distressed. They all jumped slightly. "Straight to a new day! Big day. Big, big day."
Willow instantly dropped her grim persona, moving swiftly to reassure her. Stroking her hair and face she shushed her gently.
"Uh ... Will?" Spike began warily as he moved forward. "Now don't turn me into a horned toad for asking, but what if we come across Ben?"
"I don't think a doctor's what Buffy needs right now," Willow said distractedly.
"Well, yeah," he agreed ironically. "Especially not one who also happens to be Glory."
"What do you mean?" Giles asked in bewilderment.
Spike rolled his eyes. Giles was losing it, probably the shock of his injury was catching up with him. "You know," he reminded Giles impatiently. "Ben is Glory." He really hoped Giles would pull it together, the last thing they needed was for him to flake out as well, thinning their already depleted ranks. It was only as he looked around he noticed the bewilderment on all their faces.
"You mean ... Ben's with Glory?" Willow frowned.
"'With' in what sense?" Xander asked. "They're working together?"
"No. No." Spike said, spelling it out slowly as he looked at them warily. Was this some sort of joke? "Ben is Glory. Glory's Ben. They're one and the same."
There was a moments pause as they all looked around, wordlessly asking each other what the hell he was talking about. Not receiving any answers they turned back to him, all with identical, utterly mystified expressions.
"When did all this happen?" Xander asked, baffled.
"Not one hour ago!" Spike said his voice rising as he began to feel slightly freaked. If this *was* a joke he didn't think it was very funny. They must have noticed! "Right here, before your very eyes! Ben came, turned into Glory, snatched the kid, and pfft! Vanished, remember? You do remember...?" Spike trailed off as everyone continued to gaze at him blankly. He stared at them in utter confusion. How could they possibly have forgotten? "Is everyone here very stoned?"
Still no enlightenment was forthcoming from them, and now they were looking at him as though *he* was the one who was crazy. Spike's patience snapped. "Ben! Glory!" he thumped one hand into the other as he shouted, as though the physical movement would permeate their brains. "He's a doctor, she's the beast. Two entirely separate entities sharing one body. Like a bloody sitcom, surely you remember."
"So you're saying Ben and Glory ... have a connection," Xander said tentatively.
"Yes, obviously, but what kind?" Giles questioned thoughtfully.
For a moment Spike gaped. What the *hell* was going on? How could he be the only one that remembered? More than that, why did it feel like his words were hitting a brick wall? Like something - or some*one* - was blocking their memories.
"Oh, I get it," Spike shook his head with reluctant respect as the penny dropped. "That's very crafty. Glory's worked the kind of mojo where anyone who sees her little presto-change-o instantly forgets. And yours truly, being somewhat other than human stands immune."
"So ... Ben and Glory ... are the same person?" Willow suggested slowly.
"Glory can turn into Ben, and Ben turns back into Glory." Xander pieced it together carefully as though he was groping around in the dark.
"And anyone who sees it instantly forgets." Willow finished.
Spike sighed in relief. Now they were getting somewhere! If they could just hold in to that ...
"Kewpie doll for the lady," he said ironically, pointing to Willow.
"Excellent," Giles said nodding in satisfaction as he looked around at everyone. "Now. Do we suspect there may be some kind of connection between Ben and Glory?"
Spike looked hopefully at Xander and Willow who looked enquiringly back at him.
Spike fought off the powerful urge to beat his head against the wall.
"Glory *is* ...." he began, then shook his head, running his fingers through his hair in furious frustration. Bloody hell and *fuck* as if they'd needed this to get any harder! "Look lets just forget this for now."
There was a moments pause. "Forget what?" Xander asked.
Spike heard a noise that sounded something like; "Arrrrrrrggggggghhh!" issue from his mouth. The others all took a nervous step back, bewildered at his anger, which as far as they could tell had sprung up for no reason. "Let's just get going."
"Yeah," Xander was practically out the door before he'd finished speaking. "I'll drive."
***
As Xander almost carried Giles to the car, he tried avoid Spike's eyes, staying as far away from him as he could, he burned in mortification. What had happened to his new, lets-just-get-along-and-let-the-past-go attitude? He'd thought he'd be calm now, dignified, maybe a little sad, but not furious, not passionate, not overreacting and certainly not taking a swing at Spike. He should have known better. Spike never adhered to any plan. Even a plan of his own making.
He carefully deposited Giles on the back seat as Willow and Spike led Tara and Buffy to the car and guided them into the back with Giles. Tara whimpered anxiously as she was crammed in so close to the others.
"You want shotgun Will?" Xander asked hopefully, acutely aware of Spike's hovering presence behind him, waiting to find out where his seat would be. Not in the front next to him - please God - wasn't this hard enough?
"No," Willow said, dashing his hopes. "She'll, I'll feel better if I'm next to her." She looked at Tara sadly and he ached for her, a deep pang of shame shooting through him. He really was a selfish bastard, how could he be so wrapped up in his own feelings when people he loved were in so much pain? He gave her a comforting pat, waiting until she crammed into the back, squeezing the door shut before moving to take his seat.
"Wait," Spike, who had taken the front passenger seat, brushed the remains of the broken glass which spoke of his illegal entrance into the car, off the drivers seat. The black tips of Spike's fingers flashed before Xander's eyes. He flinched. He'd noticed in the RV that Spike was still painting his nails. He'd been trying not to look at them. It was a tiny thing, a huge thing. They were the same as they had been the last time they had slept together. He remembered how the black varnish had reflected the flame of the candles.
"Thanks," Xander muttered without looking at him as he slid behind the wheel. He slammed the door closed with unnecessary force and they pulled away, leaving the gas station behind them.
Crazy. Crazy that the sight of black painted nails would hurt. Yet they did. Every time.
***
They drove in silence for a long time, speeding back to Sunnydale along the roads that only a few hours ago they'd been pelting down in the opposite direction. Giles fell asleep - or passed out. Willow had her eyes closed, but she didn't look like she was sleeping, more like she was concentrating. Powering up, preparing for whatever it was she was going to do to help Buffy. Tara was huddled up against Willow, dozing. Willow had given her a pill to knock her out so she could be restrained safely without getting too upset while Willow would be busy helping Buffy. Buffy herself was still staring blankly ahead. Which only left himself, and Spike.
Though he didn't want to, Xander found himself surreptitiously glancing at Spike slouched in the seat beside him. He couldn't seem to stop, as though Spike was a magnet, drawing his eyes. He now knew why he'd been so reluctant to move out from behind his hate. Without it Spike was a force he had no shield from. He still loved Spike, totally, helplessly, he'd always known that. No matter what his head said, his heart ached with the loss of him, and to be so close to him ... it was torture. Spike was under his skin and was pushing every button he had, and he didn't even have to try - he just *did*. His every movement, his voice, the way the very air was charged with his presence all worked the old trick Spike had of stripping his defences bare, making him do, say what he most wanted to keep locked away inside him. He had lost control for a moment back there in that dark room, and when sanity had returned, it had terrified him. His heart may ache without him, the longing may tear him apart, but to be *with* him, when he loved him so much that Spike could break his heart with a look ...
He recoiled in fear. No way would he *ever* let that happen again. As much as his poor grieving heart hurt, he had to stay strong, keep his distance, but an unpleasant feeling was insidiously creeping over him. Much as he hated to admit it, it was shame. He had let things get out of hand back there, and taken his fear out on Spike, pounding on a guy who couldn't hit back because *he* couldn't deal.
"Spike," he began awkwardly, breaking the long silence, casting an embarrassed glance into the mirror to check the others weren't listening. Strange how intimate just saying his name could be. Unnerving. "About hitting you back there - I'm ... uh, I'm sorry."
He stopped, frustrated with his lack of articulacy. Too scared to display any emotion for fear it would all come spilling out he'd sounded expressionless and stupidly formal. Spike looked at him and Xander took his eyes briefly off the road to look back at him. The orange streetlights flashed past, highlighting Spike's face, the slash of his cheekbones.
"Yeah well," Spike said ironically, "I'm gettin' used to that."
Xander looked away again, staring at the road ahead, rigid with shame.
There was a pause, and Spike must have read his face because the next moment he'd dropped the irony. "Forget it," Spike said gently. "You were pissed off - *I'd* pissed you off." He turned away to stare out of the window and muttered quietly, almost to himself. "I deserved it."
Xander shook his head. "I shouldn't have done it," he said stiffly.
"Hey don't go gettin' all guilty on me." Spike said, his voice an odd mix of roughness and tenderness that made him want to lay his head down on Spike's shoulder. "It's not like I wasn't fighting you back."
"But you weren't," he said quietly. "The chip never went off."
He darted another look at Spike, surprise was written on his face. Spike hadn't thought he'd noticed. As if he could have missed it, and what he really wanted to ask was why? Why had Spike pushed until he snapped, and not even tried to fight back? But the look in Spike's eyes right now made him afraid to ask. They were full of heat, emotion, it was wonderful. And scary. And painful. The car began to wander dangerously. He snapped his eyes away, his hands trembling as he steered the car back on track, concentrating on the road.
After a moment Spike began to untie the bandages on his hands. Xander glanced over with a strange tight feeling in his chest. Only earlier he had untied them to see deep welts, now the skin was almost completely healed, just faint white lines snaking across the palms. But despite vampire powers he knew Spike had some scars that wouldn't heal, and maybe - one day - that would be a kind of comfort to him. Spike had loved him after all.
Spike reached into his pocket and retrieved his pack of cigarettes, putting one in his mouth he began to pat his pockets, looking for his lighter. With a sudden flame to his cheeks that he fervently hoped Spike couldn't see in the dark, Xander remembered earlier - when he taken Spike's lighter from his bleeding hands, helping him to light his cigarette and - for some reason he didn't want to go into - he hadn't given it back.
Should he say something? No. He didn't want Spike to get the wrong idea - whatever the wrong idea was, he was just going to keep quiet ...
Spike was beginning to look irritated, searching his duster in earnest, Xander could feel the weight of the lighter growing heavier and heavier in his pocket.
"It's in my coat pocket," he blurted out. "I forgot to ... I didn't ... Uh, just sec ..." He was negotiating a tricky stretch of road and needed both hands on the wheel.
"It's okay," Spike said, his voice a little lower than usual. "I'll get it."
"No," he said panicked. "Don't ..."
But Spike had already leaned over close to him, reaching his hand into his coat pocket. He caught a breath of Spike's scent. The faint pressure of Spike's hand brushed against his hip. Even through the layers of clothing, that slight touch felt unbearably intimate. His fingers tightened on the wheel. He wanted to jerk away, yet was frozen. To his horror, desire, long repressed, almost forgotten stirred, sending it's demanding ache through his body.
His breath caught.
Maybe Spike's did to.
Then Spike's fingers closed around the lighter and he retreated, lighting up.
Neither of them said anymore as they flashed past the 'Welcome to Sunnydale' sign.
***
Spike fidgeted nervously with his lighter as they pulled up outside Xander's apartment to drop off the girls and change cars. Xander gently woke Giles. Giles was looking exhausted and confused, worry was written all over Xander's face.
"Spike," Xander said without quite managing to look at him, "get Giles into my car, I'm gonna help Will get set up."
He nodded and easily caught the car keys Xander tossed to him. Xander gathered the sleeping Tara to him, picking her up and carrying her into his apartment, as Willow followed, leading the docile Buffy.
When Giles was safely ensconced in his new seat Spike leant against the car, taking a much needed moment to steel himself to face the next torturous encounter with Xander. His lip curled bitterly, he *hated* this - being so utterly defenceless, playing the love-sick puppy, radiating need and love, begging wordlessly for approval, but he couldn't stop. Crazy that a perfectly ordinary young man would make him weak, make him ache, make him burn, but Xander wasn't ordinary. Not to him. He was warm and kind, he had guts and smarts, he was wickedly funny and oh yeah. He was amazingly, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Other people didn't really seem to notice it, and somehow he liked that, it made him feel amazingly good about himself, like he'd discovered an incredible secret, and he loved him. He *loved* him.
He couldn't stop. It wasn't in his nature to stop, and he couldn't give up hope. Not until all hope was utterly gone, completely smashed, and no matter how much Xander tried to run from it, despite Xander sending 'Stay Away' vibes so clearly he could almost feel a force-field around the boy that would fry him if he tried to break through, he still hoped. *Something* was there, still simmering between them. Tenderness had been almost tangible in the air between them when Xander had been looking at his wounds, in the car Xander had trembled under his hand. Xander had risked his life to go after Glory for him, and that had to mean something didn't it? He *must* still love him, at least a little, and that meant there was still a chance. Or at least so he hoped.
Xander came out of his apartment, walking over to them. "We good to go?" Xander asked him awkwardly as he reached him, still doing that bloody, flicking glances, no-eye-contact thing. Spike steeled his nerves. He wouldn't exactly impress Xander by collapsing into a quivering heap. He was trembling with fear, sick with dread but he didn't falter.
"You two are," he replied cooly, determined not to let even the smallest chink of fear out, he so dearly wanted Xander to admire him. "Catch you later." Without any more ado he began to walk away.
"Hey!" Xander called out after him. "Where you going?"
Spike turned back to face him, Xander was watching him, a slightly confused look on his face.
"Following orders," he said tersely. "I'm going to Glory's."
"Oh." Xander's eyes flickered. "That could be ... pretty dangerous."
"Tell me something I don't know," Spike agreed. The words were flippant but his tone was deadly serious.
"I - I could drop you off," Xander offered haltingly.
He shook his head. "No - Giles needs help now. Go, get him patched up, I'll find you later." This wasn't quite as altruistic as it sounded, if Giles worsened thanks to any delay of his causing, Xander would never forgive him.
Xander nodded reluctantly. "Right."
He turned away again, when Xander burst out; "Spike!"
He turned back, Xander froze, as though the words were on the tip of his tongue but he couldn't quite get a grip on them. Spike took a small, hopeful step forward, suddenly desperate to hear what Xander wanted to say.
"Just ... just don't do anything stupid okay?" Xander said in a rush. "If you do we'll all pay for it."
Spike couldn't even bring himself to muster up a bitter smile. "Got you. No stupidness." He turned away again.
"Spike!" Xander's voice was desperate, Spike turned back around.
"Yeah?"
Now it was Xander who turned his back. He opened the car door, he paused before climbing in.
"Be careful," he said quietly. Without waiting for a reply he climbed into the car, slamming the door shut and roared off.
Spike watched the taillights of the car vanish down the road as he stood there, hurting and hoping at the same time.
***
Spike stared at the door to Glory's apartment and fought down his fear. The problem was that his fear was putting up a hell of a good fight. It might be irrational but it was all consuming. He knew Glory wasn't in there, vampire ears didn't miss much, the place was deserted but he still couldn't take the final step through the door. What if she *was* there?
Stupid to be scared. He'd survived hadn't he? There weren't many guys around that could take all the torture Glory had to throw, escape and live to tell the tale.
He reached out his badly trembling hand, and silently began to turn the handle, then he pulled back again. He had to get over this, he wasn't going to be any help if he kept quivering with fear every time he saw Glory, sneaking around her like a whipped dog. She could beat him, he got that. The important thing was not to beat himself.
Xander - just a mortal, no Slayer power or vampire stamina had still burst in here, faced up to Glory for him. That had taken guts, and he had guts too damnit. He was gonna do this his way, snap the last chain Glory held him in. He waited until his hands were rock steady, then with a swift sharp kick, he burst through the door.
***
While the doctors were poking and prodding Giles about Xander wandered to the candy machine. He stared at it blankly before realising he didn't want any candy. Or coffee which pretty much encompassed the hospitals entire choice of beverages and food on offer. After a moment he realised his mind wasn't blank at all, it was worried about Spike. More than worried, *agonising* about him. If Glory was in her apartment, if Spike was caught ... And now she'd be even more pissed with him wouldn't she? She'd be wanting a little payback for his escape, and now she had Dawn there wouldn't be a single reason for her to keep him alive - he could be dust - right *now*. Unless of course she decided to torture him for a while first.
His heart twisted like wet rag, as waves of terror vibrated through him. Why the *hell* had he let Spike go alone? He thrust his hand into his pocket, scrabbling for the lighter ... but of course Spike had taken it back. Spike could be dead and he didn't even have one tangible thing of him to hold on to.
He turned away from the vending machines, and began to stride blindly down the corridors, trying to leave his fear behind, but it travelled with him, clinging to him tightly, whispering the terrible possibilities into his ear. Memories assailed him, flashing before his eyes, Spike, bleeding, tortured ...
He couldn't leave them behind. He began to pick up speed, jogging, running sprinting, and there wasn't enough *room* in this hospital to leave them behind. His feet thudded on the floor, his legs moving fast, beginning to ache, yet never taking him far enough. The sound of his breath filled his ears, harsh and fast. He shot past nurses, blurs in white, and pelted down the corridor where he had made his decision to help Willow get revenge. He sprinted faster, but there was no escape, nothing could stop the scenes of Spike's hellish torture playing before his eyes.
An agonising stitch struck him in his side and he slammed to a halt, doubling up in pain, gasping for breath. His legs were shaking, he was sweating, a cold, sickly, frightened sweat. Panting heavily he leaned against the wall, his hand clasping his side protectively. As he raised his head he focussed on the sign opposite him. He was right outside the psychiatric ward.
Maybe Glory's victims could help? Maybe in the same way Tara had gotten a flash of clarity about Dawn being the Key, these guys could tell him about Glory, tell him if Spike was with her.
It was a stupid, insane, impossible hope, but right now it was the best he had. He reached out and pushed open the swing door.
Rows of rumpled empty beds looked back at him. He slowly advanced into the silent, deserted room taking in the unmade beds, the broken restraints. This obviously wasn't the work of the nurses, all the crazies had picked themselves up and left under their own power. Or maybe someone else's had been calling to them? He didn't know, but what he did know that there was nothing and no one here that could tell him if Spike was alive.
He turned away, as terror wrapped him tight in it's cold insidious grasp, draining him. He walked at a slow cautious pace back to Giles as though in an effort to make up for his earlier frantic race through the hospital.
Giles was waiting for him, sitting on the bed, colour in his cheeks and his eyes considerably brighter, looking so *normal* relief shot through him. He hadn't realised until now just how worried he'd been about Giles.
"Hey Giles," he said, his voice filled with affection.
"Ah Xander," Giles said, pleased. He rose to his feet slowly, clasping his hand briefly over where he'd been impaled and walked over to him, struggling into his coat. "Can you uh ..." Giles asked, gesturing at his coat, flapping around him.
"There." Xander said as he carefully draped Giles's coat over his injured side without trying to get his arm in the sleeve. "How you doing?" Xander asked as they walked down the corridor.
"It only hurts while I answer pointless questions." Giles said snappishly, Xander raised his eyebrows. Yup, Giles was totally back to normal. "Where's Buffy?" Giles questioned, trying to bring himself back up to speed.
"Willow's on it. Or ... in it. She's workin' some spell, trying to reach Buffy psychically."
"She's gone into Buffy's mind?" Giles asked, concerned.
"Pretty trippy stuff," Xander agreed, he'd been worried himself when Willow had told him what she had planned. He believed she could do it - he just wasn't sure she *should* do it.
"It's extraordinarily advanced," Giles said thoughtfully.
Xander's eyes flickered uncomfortably - he didn't want Giles to know just *how* advanced Willow was, like giving him superpower advanced. Thankfully Giles was already thinking of something else as his brain charged up. "I was thinking we should check on Glory's victims while we're here."
"Hmm?" Xander said distractedly as his heart gave a huge leap at the sight of a distinctive blond head. *Spike*! It was Spike! Here! *Safe*! He briefly squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them Spike was still there. He bit his lip to hold back a sob of relief. Flooded with gratitude he felt suddenly lighter, like he could bounce down the corridor. Spike hadn't noticed them yet, he was stealing a bag of blood from a hospital trolly, giving him a much needed chance to regain his composure, thank heavens, otherwise he might have said something stupid.
Giles was looking at him expectantly and he snapped back to attention.
"Oh, the mental ward?" Xander replied to Giles hurriedly, so he was talking unconcernedly as Spike noticed them and walked to meet them. "I've already been," he said, glossing over his frantic race through the hospital. "The vegetable section's closed. Nobody there. It's like they all just got up and walked away."
He greeted Spike with nothing more than an eyebrow raise and a pointed look at the blood bag in his hand. Certainly no endearments, no frantic questioning to if he was okay. Too afraid that if he started his overwhelming concern would be all too apparent. Maybe Spike was a little hurt because he launched straight into his report without wasting time with greetings.
"Checked out Glory's flat. Looks like the great one has scampered."
Relief and worry clashed inside him with equal power. He was painfully glad Spike was safe, but Dawn was still missing, they still had the end of the world racing towards them and no leads - what the *hell* were they going to do now?
"Gone to perform her ritual with Dawn and leaving us entirely clueless," Giles said with weary resignation.
"Not entirely." Spike said thoughtfully. They looked at him enquiringly.
"I know this bloke," Spike said resignedly, Xander guessed whoever this bloke was Spike really didn't want to see him, but hey, backs against the wall here.
"Well, not so much a bloke so much as a demon," Spike amended. "But still, bookish. All tuned in to the nastier corners of this our magic world." He took out another cigarette, looking as though it was less for the enjoyment, and more of an effort to take the edge off his nerves. "It's a bit of a last resort really, but still, we might persuade him to suss out Glory's game plan."
He lit up in total disregard of the 'No Smoking' sign on the wall beside him. It occurred to Xander that this summed up Spike's attitude to rules perfectly. Spike looked up at them questioningly. "Sound worthy?"
It sure did to him - he looked at Giles in a wordless question and Giles nodded in agreement.
"Off we go then," Spike said without meeting his eyes, then to Giles; "Meet back at the shop?"
Giles nodded again and Xander gave him a comforting pat on the arm before falling into step beside Spike just in time to receive a huge blast of smoke, from Spike's direction. He coughed, waving it away. It had been so long since he'd spent time with Spike he wasn't used to the accidental inhale anymore. Well he'd never really got used to it. With painful clarity he had a flashback to the night they'd spent together in Spike's crypt. After the second, or maybe the third time they had made love Spike had lit up, he'd coughed and Spike had blown more smoke teasingly at him. He'd hit Spike with the pillow, Spike had hit him back with his own pillow and they'd grappled playfully, he'd managed to roll on top of Spike, pinning him down and straddling his hips. They had paused, the lightheartedness fading. Spike had looked up at him and that look - it was so fucking *hot*, his body had stirred restlessly, aching and unsated, *again* as though they'd been apart months instead of a few breathless moments. Then he had leaned closer, as Spike slowly put the cigarette down.
It had smouldered, discarded in the ashtray and eventually died out, unsmoked.
"Found Ben's room at Glory's," he heard Spike say. "Didn't learn much."
"Wait, wait, wait," he said in astonishment as his attention was truly grabbed, wrenching him back to the present. *Surely* he couldn't have heard that right? "*Ben*? At Glory's? You're saying all this time he's been subletting from her?"
"This ... is gonna be worth it," Spike said, sounding amazingly pissed off. He turned to him with a frustrated glare and gave him a hard, sharp slap on the back of his head.
"*Ow*!!"
They both yelled in unison, clutching at their heads. They stumbled, and Xander only noticed too late that they had both reached out instinctively, using each other for balance. Spike's hand lingered, just a second too long against his arm giving him a fish leap of fear before Spike hurriedly turned it into a mild cuff on his back. They fell back into step, and Spike said wearily; "Last time. From the top."
***
Fortunately it was only a very brief journey to the Doc's by car. It was still an uncomfortable, mostly silent journey broken only by Spike's directions. There was so much stuff between them the very air felt heavy. With some relief Xander pulled up where Spike told him to, looking about himself curiously as he followed Spike to the Doc's door. Because of Spike's obvious reluctance to involve this guy he'd been a little worried, but this place didn't look particularly dangerous, just a small, snug building, at least it wasn't the sewers or a creepy mansion. Of course he had learnt not to rely too heavily on appearances. Spike knocked loudly on the door.
A voice from within called out; "It's always open!"
With a barely perceptible wince Spike opened the door.
The appearance of safety continued as they entered. It looked cosy in here - warm and bright, the guy who had called out to them was sitting at a desk studying huge volumes. He looked oldish, friendly, his absorption in the volumes surrounding him reminded Xander strongly of Giles.
So all in all it was surprising that a cold chill of fear was very lightly running down his spine.
"What can I do for you boys?" The old guy asked sociably. "Want some cocoa?"
"No," Spike said curtly. "We need information. We need ..."
"Ben's Glory!" Xander burst out as comprehension, *memories* suddenly, swiftly burst open in his mind, falling into their rightful place. Ben changing, Spike explaining, then yelling, then slapping him across the head, everything, he remembered it all.
"Who's what?" Doc asked warily.
"Look at this," Spike remarked tolerantly. "Special Ed remembers."
"Yeah. I do!" Xander said, too excited to be insulted. "Ben's Glory and Glory's Ben! It's like this fog's lifting," he waved his hands around his head in explanation.
"Wonderful. But not why we're here." Spike turned back to the Doc. "Hell-god type. Name of Glory-"
"A.K.A. Ben." Xander put in quickly.
" ... has gone missing. She's brewing up some major-league bad, and she's nicked the Slayer's kid sister in the bargain. You got any idea where Glory would take her?"
"Glory ... Glory." Doc seemed to be playing the name over in his mind, so why did Xander have the feeling he knew exactly who they were talking about? Despite his fleeting excitement about getting his memories back something in here was seriously spooking him out. 'Something' probably being the Doc. All of his hackles - pretty well developed after all this time on the Hellmouth were standing on end, and getting worse as Doc closed his book and slowly walked over to them.
"Oh! You don't mean Glorificus?" He was in front of them now, and Xander had to force himself not to step back. "Gosh," he continued. "What do you wanna get mixed up with her for? That's a sure way to get yourselves killed. I hear she's awfully unpleasant."
/Yeah, don't have to tell either of us that/ Xander thought uncomfortably. From the look on Spike's face he was thinking the same thing. /And how's about backing up a couple of paces there fella?/
To Xander's relief he turned away, replacing his book on a nearby table. "When it comes to hellgods, my best advice is get out of the way and stay there."
"Love to. Can't." Spike said brusquely.
"Well, uh, other than that," the Doc was fluttering round in a drawer now with his back to them, Xander tensed. When he turned back to them empty handed he felt sick with relief.
"I'd like to help ... but I'm a small-town guy. This Glorificus, if it is her ... she's big city."
How modest. Why was he now thinking of the witch in the story who lured children into her gingerbread house before eating them?
"She's got Dawn," Spike said desperately.
"Right." He looked thoughtful. "Well, I may know a fella ... you know, who knows a fella in... in China. He might ..."
"How the hell are we supposed to get to China?" Spike snapped. "Teleport?"
"I guess." Doc shrugged unhelpfully.
Spike looked at him suspiciously.
"You know," he continued a little nervously, "if you're in that much of a hurry. Wish you luck."
"You're lying." Spike said coldly, Xander looked at him uncertainly, although he had an intuition that Spike was right the last thing he wanted to do was piss this creepy guy off - at least not without a damn good reason. Doc took off his glasses.
Funny, without them he didn't remind Xander of Giles at all, now he reminded him of a snake.
"And what's more," Spike continued calmly "I believe you're standing right in front of the very thing we need."
Doc smiled. It wasn't a nice smile. It was the kind of smile the witch would give just as she slammed the oven door shut on the helpless little children ...
Suddenly he leapt, was behind them, they whirled around, but it was too late. Xander froze in horror. Doc had a sword, the point was hovering less than an inch away from Spike's throat. With the clarity that came when every sense was completely focussed on what was in front of him Xander could even see the razor sharp sword reflecting the light on Spike's face.
His body was thrumming, fired up, desperate to move, but he forced himself to stay completely still, not to do *anything* to make Doc use that sword on Spike, waiting for the chance to make his move, as his thoughts ran in a panicked loop.
/No, no, don't kill him, don't make me watch him die, don't, don't./
"Idiot," Doc hissed.
Doc lunged forward but Spike smacked the blade aside, throwing himself to the floor. "Get him!"
With the blade away from Spike's throat Xander flew forward, but a tongue, long and lizard like shot out of the Doc's mouth across the room. It pressed hard against his chest, pinning him against the wall. For a moment everything, even the danger vanished as every part of him crawled in utter revulsion and horror, as he pushed against it, then thankfully the tongue retreated, but with it's pressure gone he toppled forward, crashing to the floor.
/Oh God, oh no, Spike is gonna die because I'm so fucking USELESS!/
Doc towered over Spike's prone form. "You think only underworld bottom-feeders worship the beast?" With a vicious kick to Spike's face he turned grabbing the box he'd been hiding, throwing it into the fire.
"Her day is coming, boys!" He shouted jubilantly as he stalked back, grabbing Spike by the front of his shirt. "And when she returns, then you're gonna see something!"
A red mist of panic and rage fell over Xander's eyes. He rolled up to his feet, kneeing Doc in the chest, knocking him away from Spike, all in a swift, Slayer-like movement. He fell on top of the Doc, wrestling with him furiously, Doc struggled frantically under him, it was repellent, revolting. He reached out and grabbed the sword that had landed nearby, slamming it down into the Doc's chest. The struggles ceased as blue slimy blood spurted up over him. Panting heavily he turned away from the body to look at Spike.
Spike was kneeling by the fireplace with the box in his slightly singed hands, staring up at him an expression of amazement, exhilaration and cocky pleasure on his face. For a moment they didn't speak. Xander staggered up to his feet, wiping the repellent blood from his face.
"What do we got?" he asked, trying to distract him. Whatever emotional scene Spike had planned right now he just wanted to skip it. It worked, Spike looked back at the box.
"Something worth dying for." Spike said seriously. They stumbled out of the room, into the fresh night air.
Spike closed the door behind them and paused before they carried on, opening the box. Xander leant over him to see, it was full of papers, carefully tied, covered in obscure markings, some language he couldn't even begin to translate.
"Looks like the ritual rights," Spike said, his eyes darting swiftly over the markings.
"Well obviously," Xander said uncomfortably.
His eyes were caught by Spike's fingers, skimming lightly over the weird writing on the papers, and his damn fingernails were still black. Suddenly he felt empty, exhausted and so close to tears he didn't know how he could begin to hide it.
"This is going to be very helpful," Spike was saying, unaware of his distress. "We need to get it to Giles."
"Great," he said dully. "Lets go."
"You don't seem very happy about it," Spike said casually.
"I'm not happy!" he snapped suddenly, unable to stop himself as the shock, the fear and the stress finally broke through. Spike's eyebrows shot up with surprise at the unexpected force in his voice. "Why the hell would I be *happy*? Great plan Spike - just take us straight to the guy that worships her!"
"I didn't know!" Spike snapped defensively. "It worked out didn't it?"
"*Worked out*?" he repeated incredulously. "You could have been killed in there!"
"Not with you fighting on my side," Spike smiled meaningfully, satisfaction warming his voice as his eyes lit up.
"Shut up!" Xander yelled, his voice shaking. "Stop looking so pleased about it! I hate this - I hate how you make me *feel*!"
"Oh really?" Spike snapped as the glow of pleasure vanished from around him. "You're not the only one this is hard for okay? I'm not bloody singing for joy about the way *you* make *me* feel."
"Right Spike and how's that?" he questioned angrily, and he didn't know why he was doing this - he was playing with fire, and he knew it, but he was driven, desperate to hear what the hell was going on in Spike's head, once and for all.
"Don't, all right?" Spike said, his voice shaking. "Don't *do* that. You know exactly how I feel!" His voice was raising with each word, his slender form trembling. Xander was transfixed, dry mouthed with sudden fright at the release of emotion from Spike that up to now he had kept penned up so well. "You can tear me apart with just a bloody look! I have tried so hard to stop loving you, but I can't so just stop torturing me, will you?"
"I'm not ..." Xander denied, stiff lipped.
"Oh yes you are!" Spike shouted. "Everything you do, everything you say - you *breath* and it hurts me, cos the soddin' air is closer to you than I am. Bein' so close to you - so close to somethin' I want so bad ..." Spike's voice broke, raking his eyes hungrily, desperately over him, Xander felt himself flush under that gaze, as Spike carried on. "But if you don't want me then stop looking at me with those bloody hot eyes of yours and stop trembling when I get close to you. Make a bloody choice and stick to it!"
"I am!" he shot back furiously. "I've made my choice!"
He stopped, his anger draining away at the raw pain that flashed in Spike's eyes. Oh God. Why did this have to hurt so much? It felt like every part of him was bleeding. "Spike," he tried to say it gently. "It's easier this way."
"Easy?" Spike repeated, his voice still shaking. "You call this easy?"
"I didn't mean easy - I meant better, I meant ..."
"You meant safe," Spike said contemptuously.
"What's wrong with being safe?" he questioned defensively.
"It's not *real*," Spike struggled for the words, "it's not *right*. We're not supposed to be apart. You and me are meant to be together," Spike tried to smile lightly, but couldn't do it. "We're soulmates, pet."
"You don't have a soul," Xander whispered.
"Maybe not the soul I used to have, but I've got something, I couldn't feel like this if I was empty. Whatever it is I love you with every bit of it. My heart, my head, my gut, my body ..." Xander shook his head trying to blot out the incredible, terrifying words, Spike raised his voice. "You think you're being so bloody strong shutting me out - the truth is you're too gutless to let me in!"
Something broke inside Xander, his deepest most dreadful pain roared up from the place where it had made it's home inside his heart, out of his mouth. "You *broke* my *heart*!"
He didn't know how those words came out of him, he had never before displayed a painful, private wound for someone else to look at - especially not the one who had wounded him. Nauseated and ashamed he felt like he'd had all his clothes torn off him in public.
He and Spike stared at each other, terrible, disfiguring pain written on their faces, and he knew they were both in hell. Impaled here by their love for each other, there was no way out. He clawed for breath.
"I know," Spike said brokenly. "But ... I can make it right, if you'll just let me. Let me in. Please Xander, I mean you do still love me a little ... don't you?"
The moment that followed seemed to go on forever as the pause stretched out. He looked at Spike, Spike was looking back at him, eyes burning, straining towards him, desperate for his answer. All desire and love and tension radiating from him, it was all in front of him, begging for another chance. All he had to do was reach out and take it, and he wanted Spike. Wanted him so bad. Wanted him right now. But he couldn't take the risk. He *couldn't.*
"No."
Spike's face whitened.
"No," he repeated again distinctly, the terrible word vibrating between them. "I don't." As he spoke something died inside him, inside Spike - he could see the death in Spike's eyes. The light in them vanished, something else began to fill them, a pain he could hardly bear to look at.
Seconds ticked by.
"Right," Spike said eventually, his voice hitching roughly, Xander flinched to hear it. "Right."
The shock began to shake through Xander at the enormity of the lie he had told. He was cold all over, he wanted to staunch the wounds he'd just inflicted but couldn't move his body, his tongue wouldn't work. He looked away, at his feet, at the car, anywhere but at Spike.
"Spike ..." He managed to get out, but Spike shook his head violently.
"We - we'd better get back to the shop," Spike cut him off as though he just couldn't stand to hear his voice.
"I'm sorry ..." he began brokenly, moving forward.
"No - don't," Spike stumbled away as he stepped closer. "Let's just go."
Spike got into the car, his movements jerky and uncoordinated as though one of his limbs had been hacked off. Xander closed his eyes briefly, shuddering. Searing pain, self-reproach and misery shredded him inside but what else could he have done? He knew what Spike wanted from him, it was in his heated eyes, his vicious gestures, the frustration in every line of his tense frame and he'd had to make it stop before he weakened enough to give in to it. He hadn't wanted to hurt him but Spike would never have really given up unless he'd destroyed all hope finally and forever.
Tears of loss stung his eyes but he forced them away. He'd done what he had to. He wasn't open like Willow, or fearless like Buffy, he had never been good at letting his barriers down, opening up his heart. The only person he'd ever let in heart and soul, had been Spike himself and that was a lesson he didn't need a repeat of, he had learnt it well. Taught by tears and heartbreak and drinking so much he passed out and hacking at his arm with a piece of glass. The barriers were back up and treble locked. He had forgiven, but he could never forget. He could never let Spike back in. Spike had so much power and he was so vulnerable, Spike would get bored, leave him, and he'd be destroyed all over again.
So he'd done the best thing. Obviously.
He stumbled blindly into the car, feeling half dead and hurting all over, like his body didn't belong to him. They didn't exchange another word as he drove erratically to the Magic Box.
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