Chapter Text
Part 1
“It’s Farah Litand. Is Mr Giles available please? It’s… well… it’s really kind of urgent.”
The young slayer tapped her chewed pencil impatiently on the side of the small cracked Formica tabletop that was one of five in the tiny backstreet café in Algiers.
She was relieved when the phone made a clicking sound indicating her call had been taken.
“Giles speaking.”
“Mr Giles, I… I think you need to have someone come here and… and um…”
In Esher, UK, Giles removed his glasses and in frustration ground out, “Oh do spit it out girl I’m…”
“It’s Xander, Mr Giles, it’s my watcher Xander! He just won’t come out of his room, won’t even answer me. He’s been weird all week, I found him crying on Sunday. He said it was just an old memory. We’d just dusted three vamps – no big deal, but there was a little girl with blonde hair, a tourist I think. She was drained already, nothing I could do.
“He picked her up and carried her back here and contacted her parents, just like normal but then he… well he was crying after and then after that just stared at the wall all day then…then he yelled at me when I said we should go patrol, kept saying something about a Zeppo and it going on and on and something about everyone dying, he said he just couldn’t… couldn’t stop it, couldn’t stop me from dying and then went really quiet, just turned and locked himself in his room and now… Mr Giles, I’m scared he will do something or maybe already… Mr Giles?”
“Break the door down.”
“Excuse me?”
“You heard me girl. Kick it in. Make sure he’s… Just make sure he’s still… well, in there. Now”
“OK… I’ll just… Just wait OK? I’ll do it.”
Giles heard the phone go quiet then an almighty crash in the background, followed by what sounded like a struggle. Finally the phone was picked up again, this time it was Xander’s familiar voice though despite the words, the flat tone was less than reassuring.
“Hey G, I guess the Council is going to have to pay for the repairs this time, ‘cause I didn’t bring my tool kit.”
Giles had seen it before, not necessarily whilst in his current role heading up the Council of Watchers, but he had a nephew who had recently served in Iraq returned to England for the very same reason. A brilliant field surgeon Nigel had arrived home reduced to a barely functioning human being, terrified if a helicopter flew over their home, and prone to fits of despair or rage for no apparent reason. His dear wife and he had finally agreed that professional help was needed. A year on he was doing better, but it was a slow process.
Xander had been on the ‘front line’ effectively for the past eight years. Post Sunnydale he’d apparently accepted Anya's death in the Sunnydale implosion with stoicism worthy of any Brit, claimed the insurance money and government disaster compensation due him and moved to Portland to work in construction.
A year later he had turned up at the Watchers’ Council doors in England and volunteered his services, claiming that normal life wasn’t for him. He’d been in the field, collecting new Slayers ever since.
Giles knew he needed to act, and quickly, but also aware that Xander would not appreciate a ‘kid glove’ approach.
“Xander, I need you to bring Ms Litand back to England with you. It’s a matter of urgency. I will make the necessary calls to her parents and arrange your travel details. Can you be at the airport by tomorrow morning?”
“I thought you wanted me in Kenya after this one.”
“I’ll send Russell, he’ll be thrilled to be deployed at last.”
Expecting an argument, Giles was rather surprised by the resigned, quiet tone of the answer, “We’ll be there. See you in a couple of days then. Email me the details.”
“Indeed… and thank you Xander. See you shortly.”
As soon as the phone cut out, Giles rang Andrew, “Yes arrange it immediately and blind copy me the Email if you will… And before you ask, yes it will be me that picks them up from Heathrow.”
Xander was coming home.
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The final battle with Wolfram and Hart’s Los Angeles Branch brought it down with blast from Illyria but not before Angel was dusted and Gunn dead.
Illyria had been standing over a badly injured Spike when she threw the blast that not only knocked out Wolfram and Hart, but also somehow removed her from Earth’s dimension.
Spike woke as the sun poked its head through the clouds, lighting the sky with pale reds and warm pinks.
He was too broken to move, so simply lay still, expecting to dust. He opened his working eye, the other too swollen to manage, and stared at the pink then blue above, hoping that someone would perhaps remember him, reflecting on his long life as the Sun’s rays gradually crept closer.
It was an agonizing three hours later that the lady Sun finally broke through to the alley. In a blast of heat he felt the moment and closed his eyes, sending a last minute prayer that his Grandsire might have found peace and wishing his mother hers also.
But then… nothing happened.
There was no whooping for joy. He felt for a heartbeat, but none was present. He breathed, then found it was as unnecessary as ever, though broken ribs seemed to demand he… not.
He was aware enough to register a figure appearing in his peripheral vision, felt strong arms lifting him, then blissful black.
Part 2
Connor cradled the badly broken Spike to his chest, amazed that he was apparently not dust, given his body was in direct sunlight.
The young Aurelian had felt his father’s passing, as had Spike, but also registered a familial tug that demanded he return to the blast location that was previously Wolfram and Hart L.A. Branch.
On arrival in the alley, he saw little beyond an enormous pile of rubble, a number of obviously dead individuals, puddles of ooze and a decent covering of dust across the vista. Then, just as he was about to retreat, he heard a faint, “Oh God.”
Pushing aside large chunks of concrete and twisted metal stays, he eventually found his vampire ‘brother’. Not dust, despite the sun falling on exposed legs and part of his back.
Connor felt for a pulse, having been versed with the Shanshu prophecy from birth.
There was none, which was odd. But then everything about his life was odd.
So, shrugging off obvious questions, he swallowed hard, shoved aside the detritus and lifted the limp and broken body of his only (un)living relative, then continued back to the main road where he hailed a cab. En route to the Good Samaritan he rang his temporary ‘house mate’, Matthias, the brother of one of his fellow Stanford buddies who agreed to put him up for a week or two after Connor made mention of some family crisis in L.A.
The instructions to the cab driver were brisk and urgent, the good natured cab driver assuming Connor to be a do-gooder university friend simply collecting a mate after a too heavy night on the booze.
With some juggling of the inert vampire’s form he managed to let himself in to his shared apartment just off the main road near the Good Samaritan and contacted Matthias again, this time the young resident doctor answered, who was just finishing up his shift at the hospital.
“Hey man, can you um… I’ve kind of got a situation here… It’s kind of urgent.”
Matthias had heard about some of Connor’s ‘situations’ from his brother, and sighed audibly before answering, “OK, who is she and do I have to…”
Connor settled Spike on the rather lumpy couch in the front room whilst juggling the phone and cut Matthias off, “Just listen. I need a few bags of human blood. I’m happy to pay.”
“Jeez Connor! What’s…”
“I’ll pay for it! And before you ask? No, it’s not for me! It’s a… well… It’s for my… half brother I guess. He’s been badly hurt and I…”
“So call 911 man! Or do you want me to?” Matthias was beyond tired after a shift of eleven hours and really didn’t feel ‘the love’.
“I can’t. You’ll understand when you get home… Can you do it? The blood? Like I said.. I’ll pay!”
Matthias gave a heavy sigh. He was used to dealing with some pretty odd requests but this was well and truly outside ‘the box’.
In the two weeks Connor had been staying he had been utterly focused on his studies, and spoke lovingly of his sisters and parents, though recently had opened up that he had discovered he was adopted and made contact with his birth father here in L.A. If this was indeed a birth brother in need of blood then there must be something seriously wrong.
“Fine. No problem. As long as you’re sure? F@#k Connor? Why don’t you just bring him in here?”
“Trust me Matt, you’ll understand when you get here… Just?”
“I’ll be out of here in ten. And you owe me OK?”
The quiet response was all he needed to confirm that Connor was serious.
Matthias divested himself of his ‘scrubs’ twenty minutes later, having ordered up three bags of ‘O-pos’ at the end of his shift (feeling like the most ungainly felon). No-one called him on it as he hailed a taxi and took the quickest way home.
_____________________________________________________
Xander was aware he was heading home, handed over his passport, answered all the questions asked of him at the border check and customs, and sat in his seat dispassionately as the plane took off.
It was as always. He had collected tens of… hundreds of girls… slayers… in the past just like this… it was no different this time… collect deliver and then back out to find another. But this was different… this was the end of a too long journey. Something within him had broken, he knew that, and yet could not feel … that was the kicker, he couldn’t feel… there was nothing left to feel…
Like a robot, going through a program, he was answering questions then directed to collect his bags and push through the line on the green direction, “Nothing to declare.”
There was plenty to ‘declare’, like “Oh by the way I’ve just watched twenty three individuals die”, or “Do you know what a dying individual smells like?”, or “How do you kill a Groxlar beast after it has just killed the young slayer you were charged with counseling?”
None seemed appropriate, so Xander stayed silent.
Giles, true to his word, collected Farah and Xander as they exited the ‘Green Line’ at Heathrow.
The drive back to the Watchers’ Council buildings was disturbingly silent, Farah unwilling to make commentary or ask questions.
_________________________________________________
Matthias arrived home with the promised bounty of blood.
He had expected, well he wasn’t sure what… but the physician quickly took over.
Connor was more pragmatic.
“Matti… Oh! Thank the Gods you’re home!”
Matthias was almost jetlagged due to the starting time and length of his shift, but immediately snapped out of his stupor as he took in the broken figure on their shared couch.
“F@#k!!! Connor!!! We should be…”
“NO!!!”
“But….”
“Matt, just trust me on this one. O.K.? Feel for a pulse and then I’ll… Well I’ll kind of, try to explain.”
Some hour and a half later Matt had managed to reset Spike’s various broken bones, feed him the purchased blood (with difficulty) and witnessed Connor opening his own wrist to feed the individual that was currently mending on their couch.
Matthias had finally given in to sleep, not really believing anything he had witnessed, rather putting it down to sleep depravation, and would no doubt sort itself out in the morning.
Spike was in a haze.
He was aware his body had been lifted and moved. He knew that technically he should be dust. He knew, on a visceral level, that Angel had dusted. He *thought* he had felt the sun on his legs and back. He had felt himself lfted, then travel then the agony of bones being pulled straight and realigned. He knew he’d been fed, recently, and human, which made no sense!
And there were just too many… there was too much ‘blessed black’
Spike struggled to consciousness in a sunlit lounge room.
Several things were immediately apparent. He was alive (well ‘undead’). His breaks and wounds had been treated. He had been fed... obviously, and he was lying in a direct sunlight with someone staring down at him.
Injuries notwithstanding he made an effort to at least thank someone before he was dust.
“Hmmph… Guess this is.. whatever… hmmph jus… thanks Pet… thanks.”
Connor held on to the broken figure and whispered rather brokenly, “He pretty much said goodbye to me.”
With a voice scratchy due to injury, Spike ground out, “ I felt him pass too… I’m sorr… n’ thank y…”
Unable to finish before the darkness took him, in his last conscious moments Spike hoped Connor understood.
Connor laid Spike on his own bed, initially lending his own heat to the inert figure, and woke to a sobbing, muttering Spike.
“Kill me too… Just… Sire is dead… Kill me too please… I should be dead! Everyone is dead… Me too… just take me… I can’t… no more… I just…”
Connor did the only thing he could think of, he grabbed a blade from his desk and sliced his wrist diagonally, shoved his arm against the form of the thrashing lips of the only living vampire family he had left, and hoped…
Part 3
He had been back at HQ for almost a month. Everything seemed strangely normal.
If he was a little ‘jumpy’, no-one commented. Giles had done the usual debrief though this time the replies were by rote and delivered with none of the usual jovial commentary.
Xander’s old apartment was there, and if he spent more time incommunicado, no one mentioned it, but those who knew him ‘before’ noticed, and Giles acted.
Giles and he had had a conversation regards Farah when he first came back, twice they had even cordially chatted about old times in Sunnydale, nothing unusual there, but Giles agreed with the intuitive Farah, there was something out of sorts, something definitely wrong.
Despite his natural instincts to intervene immediately, Giles was left waiting and watching as the boy, now man he saw as almost his son, Xander, slowly imploded.
Giles had initially made it a point of ‘checking in’ daily with Xander, if only to set his own mind at rest, but after a month, deferred the task to John and Madeline, qualified clinical and post-trauma psychologists.
They had initially engaged Xander in conversations about his role as watcher, then his Sunnydale days, and finally about family, trying to glean his status as best as was possible in both formal and informal discussions but despite their efforts, and perhaps due to them, not knowing the Xander of Sunnydale, they came up with nothing unusual, though both recognized the signs of PTSD. They had dialogue with those who knew Xander prior to Algiers, all of whom described a jovial individual, infinitely dedicated and supportive of others, ‘chatty and warm’ individual. But none of that was evident now.
Now there was a quiet, rather morose individual who barely met their eyes when in discussion, and abjectly refused to discuss the deaths he had witnessed most recently. Stating simply, “Par for the course innit, as Spike used to say.”
They had no idea who ‘Spike’ was, but the observations and evidence confirmed their diagnosis, PTSD. They both came to the same conclusion, psychiatric advice and treatment was desperately needed.
It was ‘Bank Holiday Weekend’ and fearful of leaving Xander alone, Giles had suggested he stay at Giles’ own family home in Oxford for the duration, with the premise that Giles would rather like the company, a suggestion Xander complied with, apparently without objection. The “I’ll go wherever you send me”, delivered with no evident emotion to his tone, worrying both Giles and the two attending counselors.
“I’ll be leaving shortly. Perhaps you would like to gather your things from upstairs.”
“Yeah, sure.” Xander stood, stared into space for just a little too long then exited Giles’ office.
Seconds later, John and Madeline were ushered in to give the Head of the Council their weekly report.
John removed his glasses and began to polish them, much in the manner of Giles himself when faced with breaking bad news to the Sunnydale crew of old.
“Mr Giles, Xander does seem to be doing a little better. He is showing an interest in local events and…”
Giles removed his own glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose in an act of frustration. “If you don’t mind I would rather you were out with it man.”
“Yes, indeed Sir. I fear this may be beyond our capacity to assist. Xander is most definitely suffering post traumatic stress, Sir. Both Madeline and I consider that he needs the services of a psychiatrist, indeed may need time in an appropriate facility.”
“I see.”
“We can recommend a private hospital…”
“Yes. Quite. And thank you. I will see to the arrangements as a matter of urgency. Do you consider that post weekend would be a possible timeframe?”
“I can’t imagine it would hurt, but be aware that the longer Xander is allowed to languor in this state, the longer his recovery.”
“I see. Thank you. If you could provide a few names and numbers to my secretary it would be most appreciated.”
Giles stood and offered his hand to both attending physicians, took the proffered hand and shook it soundly.
Half an hour later, Giles pulled out of the parking bay at Council Headquarters and turned his BMW sports car, with its cargo of silent Sunnydale ex-resident toward the M1.
_________________
Xander woke suddenly.
The room was unfamiliar, though the snoring emanating from the bedroom next door confirmed he was ensconced at Giles’ family home as promised.
His ears felt ‘funny’, but the light through the window indicated it was sometime past ten.
Padding down the cold hallway in his pajama bottoms, he found the loo, relieved himself, and returned to his bedroom to dress for the day.
Coffee… coffee was of the good. But apparently no one had thought to provide milk, so he garnered the keys from the fridge top and ventured to the front of the house, letting himself out with a stealth he thought he had lost years ago (read basement and drunken parents).
The local petrol station was only a mile or so away and had all the ‘emergency’ produce one could need.
He noted that he was shaking as the key went into ignition but thought nothing of it, but as a car pulled out and passed him, his ears seemed to augment the sound, then the shaking became worse, and his focus was blurry.
He slowed the car, but the shaking was getting worse and his hearing… it just wouldn’t stop, and the shaking… and that buzzing was confusing… and his missing eye seemed to be sending sparks… and he couldn’t breathe… he knew he had to breathe… but it wouldn’t come!
He didn’t dare stop the car, kept repeating “Just get home… Just get home” and at a snails pace directed the vehicle onto side streets and back routes, terrified he might see another vehicle. Finally pulling up to Giles’ home he burst out of the vehicle, stumbled up the walkway and burst into the lounge room screaming at the top of his voice “Giles!!!! Oh God! Giles!!! Please… Help me!!”
Giles stumbled out of slumber in response to the ruckus and was faced with a hyperventilating, violently shaking Xander, sobbing on the floor.
He did the only thing he could think of, fell to the floor and pulled Xander into his lap, grabbing the violently shaking individual tight and repeating “Just breathe with me… Just breathe… breathe… breathe!!!!”
_________________________________________________________
Matthias took a time to come to terms with the revelations Connor had been forced to divulge regarding his very injured ‘relative’.
Not the least of which was that the man he had been ‘sharing with’ was apparently ‘super-powered’, and vampires were real, and the guy on their couch was apparently close to one hundred and seventy years old – or possibly more?!
But to his credit, Matti pulled in some favors regards blood supply and seemed willing to monitor Spike’s progress.
Connor was attentive to a fault. Both wrists bore constant bandages over the ensuing weeks and Spike healed.
It was late afternoon and Spike had been lifted and placed on an old lounge piece in direct sunlight when he came to consciousness.
Connor was in a chair opposite, reading when Spike finally surfaced and spoke.
“Figured I was dust… all things being considered.”
“Spike!”
“Yeah… apparently that would be me. Still not very chipper, mind, but will give it me best anon.”
“Do you know who I am?”
“Little brother if I’m not mistaken… though my taste buds may have lost a little in the translation. But push comes to shove, reckon there's some thanks needs to come your way... so thanks... for.. everything I guess.”
Connor reached out and squeezed Spike’s left deltoid gently.
“It’s cool. I felt him pass too… I… I kind of need you to meet someone…”
“Friend of yours?”
“He kind of helped save you.”
Part 4
Spike smiled weakly at the ginger headed Matthias, “Right grateful then mate. Figure the lad here has filled you in on what I am, least as much as he knows.”
Matthias smiled back then gave Connor a quizzical look, “Well some. You’re his half brother to his birth father and have been working with Angel at Wolfram and Hart law firm for the past year or so. There was some sort of terrorist attack. Connor went back to look for his Dad but the emergency crews wouldn’t let him near the place, then he found you in an alley practically dead. He rang me and brought you back here, though he didn’t tell me the full story until we got back here, all I knew at the time was that you don’t have insurance and I since I work in the ER anyway...”
Connor had the wherewithal to look a little guilty at that point and picked up the story, “Matti here has been looking after you, sewed up the worst of your wounds, set both your legs and left arm, brought enough blood for the first few days, and changed your drip…”
Spike’s eyebrows went up at that and belatedly he realized that indeed he did have an IV line taped down on his lower right arm.
Connor gave Spike a small nod noting some confusion, “We couldn’t get you to drink too well and Matti figured painkillers and well...”
“So I must have been pretty bad…”
“As close to really dead as it comes.”
“How long since…?”
“Two weeks, and either I’m a great doc, or you have the best healing time on the planet, or both. Still Connor told me that it was kind of normal for your family.” Matti grinned at that, “Now you’re awake we can probably get rid of the IV in a day or two, see how you go. Anyway, I’ll leave you two to catch up I guess. I’m… I’m sorry about your dad.”
Spike felt a stabbing pain in his chest and tears instantly threatened, he still managed a quiet, “Yeah, thanks.” Before Matti moved to his bedroom door and disappeared from view.
Spike moved slightly but the sun was clearly shining on his very pale forearm. The strange part was that there was heat to the rays, unlike the necrotinted windows at Wolfram and Hart which was strange, but when Connor stood and moved to apparently open the window, he pulled said appendage back immediately with a rather panicked, “Oi! Don’t fancy frying!”
Connor simply smiled and said, “No necrotinting Spike. You seem to… well just trust me on this one.” With that he pulled up the window and swept the blinds aside fully until the entire room and Spike’s nude torso was in bright sunlight.
The look of wonder on his face was priceless, Connor grinning even wider.
He moved slowly, as if in a dream wiggling fingers and let his eyes fall closed as he faced the sun directly. Suddenly Spike had no control over his emotions and did the only thing left to him… accepted the proffered hand from Connor and held fast to the strong male form beginning to cry in earnest. His distress was marked not by the quiet sobs of the upset adult, but rather the bone shaking cries of a lost child, screams of a bereft lover, the ultimate distress of parent losing a child… He didn’t need to breathe but it seemed his body not only wanted to, but also struggled as his sobs alternated with attempts to speak to vale lost ones then tried to whoop large gasps of unnecessary air.
Connor simply held on…
After long minutes, he opened his eyes again, pulled away a little, cleared his throat and wiped his face roughly with the palm of his right hand causing the IV line to tug a little. When he looked at Connor again it was with true puzzlement and a not so small amount of embarrassment. “Sorry ‘bout that. But… not human cause no heartbeat so far as I can tell, ‘n can hear yours clear as a bell, so how??”
The young man sat down on the couch near Spike’s splinted legs placing a gentle hand on the plaster, “I figure you’re a day walker now, you know like in that movie Blade. I guess when Illyria went all postal it must have done something to you…” He shrugged and looked down at his hand on Spike’s plaster. “She wasn’t there when I found you, but I figured it must have been her that caused the blast.”
“Yeah, I guess that makes sense, she was standing over me is the last thing I remember. Came to for a moment or two but figured the bright light was just all part of it, never figured it for the sun proper. Passed out after that, ‘n you know the rest.” Spike stared thoughtfully at the younger Aurelian for a moment before continuing, “So why’d you…?”
“You’re family Spike, and you fought the good fight along with Angel, our well… Sire, and I figure he loved you and would want me to keep you safe, plus you’re the only one who really knows me now – you know the vampire part and that makes you important to me, really important.”
Spike ducked his head, then looked up to stare into Connor’s pale blue eyes and saw the truth of what the boy was saying, breaking into a shy smile, “Your Da loved you, was right proud as punch when he knew you were at Stanford. Yeah the ol’ bugger was right proud.” He couldn’t continue past the lump that had suddenly formed in his throat and he could see Connor struggling to hold back tears also.
They sat in silence for a long time after that, not quite sure what else to say, but sharing the grief was somehow comforting in itself as both remembered Angel’s part in their turbulent and unusual existence.
Finally Spike yawned a little and Connor stood and stretched, “You need to rest some more. I guess I’ll just go heat you some blood now that you’re awake. You need some more pain killers too?”
“Nah, much as it hurts still I figure that’s just the bits pullin’ together, plus not all to keen on the floaty feelin’ that comes with, and I’m sure you’d rather not I be sick on the bedding if I’m eating proper again.” Connor screwed up his face a little at that and made for the door to the kitchenette in the small apartment, but paused when Spike asked, “We still in L.A. then? Last I heard Stanford was a good eight hours away.”
“Yeah, I had to come here for one of my uni assignments – was supposed to be doing some hands on experience at Universal, looking at the changes they’ve made to their Studios, the financing and promoting that sort of thing. I kind of caught up with dad before the big showdown, and during. Saw him kill some tall guy in a flash suit – we kind of fought him together for a bit until dad worked out that he could drain him. He told me to go after that, so I ran. The building had started to shake really badly, I saw dad heading in the opposite direction. It was the last time I saw him.” Connor’s voice trailed off for a minute.
“When I found you, you know, after, Matti said I could extend my stay. I’ll still have to do the study but that’s OK, I’ve done all the research already. When you’re up to it you can, well if you want to that is, you can come with me when I head back. I was going to move out of the frat house anyway ‘cause there’s just too many distractions, and I’m sure Mum and Dad will agree if I put it like that. I’m on scholarship so money’s not such a big deal.”
“Money won’t be a problem pet, got my own stash from back in the day, haven’t touched it in a long while, all safe ‘n sound in good ol’ neutral Schweiz. I’ll pay my way so long as I’m welcome. No doubt Angel has some squirrelled away for you too.”
The ensuing days saw the former vampire healing (at least on the surface), physically and emotionally. The casts came off and though he was still a bit shaky if he stood for too long, Spike doing what he did best, adapting and shifting his focus to the ‘day at hand’.
As soon as he was able, he made himself useful. He cooked for Matthias and Connor, lay out in the sun on days that were warm, and even cleaned for the two boys. Anything that would take his mind away from his grief, the loss that when he allowed himself, had him on the floor of the kitchen holding his knees and crying like the bereft childe he truly was.
It was late Connor had retired to bed early, claiming the next day they had to do the drive back to Stanford and he wanted to be rested. Spike was reading and Matthias was bent over his computer at the main table, apparently focused on some article or other online.
He had become used to the presence of the quiet young man who was apparently a half brother to his friend Connor, though he was still a little unsure of why or how.
“What’s the study?”
Matthias startled then turned to smile at their erstwhile ‘houseboy’.
“Not sure it would interest you, but it’s a history paper on the British Legal system, specifically looking at the history of the Queen’s Counsel and rule changes applying to them over the twentieth century.”
Spike took a seat opposite as he snorted an “Oh, general knowledge or hobby?”
“General knowledge actually, one of my patients is a retired lawyer. He was talking to me about how different our system is in the states versus UK. It just kind of… well I figured it would be nice to learn a bit more.” He went back to his reading so very nearly missed the murmured, “Studied Law at Oxford back in the day.”
Matthias looked up surprised, “You don’t look…” He was about to say old enough but then remembered what Connor had told him about vampires being really old. “So that was what mid twentieth century or something?”
Spike laughed out loud at that, “Nah mate, finished me articles in ’73.”
“That still would have been interesting, all that flower power stuff and Vietnam…”
“1873 mate. Women still to get the vote n’ all that.”
Matthias’ eyes went wide, “So you’re what? One hundred and something?!”
“A hundred and fifty five at last count, turned vamp in 1880.”
“I… Wow! All the changes you must’ve seen?! All the progress - just amazing!!”
“Yeah, guess it’s one of the perks. C’n be bloody frustratin’ ‘n lonely at times too, ‘specially after Dru left.”
When Matti simply sat and waited looking like he wanted to ask a million questions, Spike added, “C’mon mate, I know you want to ask sommit or other. Fire away an’ I’ll do me best at an answer or three.”
They ended up talking until the early hours of the morning about all manner of things. Matthias drifted off to bed eventually with his head full of images of women in bustles, horse drawn carriages and lavish décor of Victorian England. He would be genuinely sad to farewell his guests and return to solo life, but was buoyed up a little when he learned that Spike (or William as he had established his human name to be) was quite web savvy and promised to reply to emails should Matthias be so inclined.
...................................................................................
Giles wrapped Xander in a blanket as the terrified young man continued to shake violently despite being curled up in a foetal position on the lounge suite, hands over his ears to try to stop all noise input, and eye squeezed shut tight.
Giles kept Xander in plain sight as he reached for the phone and rang the number for an after hours visiting doctors’ service. Twenty minutes later a young medic knocked on the door and Giles ushered him in.
“Is he on any medication already?”
“No.”
“Are you allergic to anything Mr Harris?”
“Not that I’m aware of.”
“Has this happened before, the panic I mean.”
“Never. Not even in the middle of a fight, not even after I lost my eye.”
“Well, I’ll give you a light sedative for now, but you really would be best to see someone pretty much immediately.”
“I… I’ve been seeing a couple of counsellors since I came back, but…”
“I would recommend attending a psychiatrist, he or she can take it from there. I’ll write a referral to a Dr Hokin. He’s a young guy, pretty up with folks who’ve seen active duty, kind of his speciality.”
The doctor injected Xander in the arm and handed a script for vallium to Giles then rose to leave. Walking to the front door and just out of earshot of Xander the doctor turned to Giles. “I really think you should contact the psychiatrist today. If you tell Hokin I sent you and the circumstances he might even be able to fit you in this week.”
“Yes, indeed. Thank you for all your help and candor. I’ll do what I can.” He shook the young man’s hand and the doctor departed.
Two days later Xander was seated outside Dr Hokin’s office looking miserable, picking at a loose cotton on his light summer sweater and staring at nothing in particular. Giles was worried again as, since his panic attack Xander had not said more than three words in a row, eaten nothing, and had obviously not slept more than a few hours, even then crying out in his sleep tp the point Giles himself was feeling rather stressed.
Xander had returned from Africa obviously thin, but now was positively haggard and had been wandering Giles’ small back garden incessantly during the day for the past two, apparently trying to find some balance. None seemed to come and the shaking was still apparent.
Admitted to Dr Hokin’s rooms he was ushered in to a warm modern style consulting room and invited to sit.
Dr Hokin with his long hair pulled back in a ponytail and wide Hollywood smile did not immediately put Xander at ease, but in the ensuing hour, as the ex-Scoobie and recently returned Watcher answered all manner of questions, he eventually relaxed, his shaking hands stilling for a moment or two before the crux of the matter was tackled head on.
“So… are you sleeping?”
“Well, yeah. Not always at once.”
“Meaning?”
“I wake up… but everyone does that… you know to pee.”
“And you remember what wakes you?”
“No! Yes! And No… sort of. Giles says I call out and cry, but I don’t really remember.”
“How much sleep do you get – you know… straight through before you have to ‘get up’?”
“Two maybe three hours.”
“So how much sleep do you get in a day?
“I figure four is OK and six a bonus. Why?”
“No matter, Xander do you wake up to noise or movement in the house where you reside?”
“Well of course! Doesn’t everyone… I mean if there’s a burglar or…”
How long have your sleep patterns been disturbed… and by that I mean compromising, giving headaches or exhaustive feelings?”
“I…. Forever.” Xander slumped down into his chair at the last admission. It was as if a balloon that had held him just above water had burst and much to his shame, he covered his face with his hands and cried.
Dr Hokin said nothing until he calmed, handed him the tissue box then made a suggestion that caused Xander’s heart to skip several beats. “I really think you would benefit from a short stay in the Delmont. It’s a private hospital, you’ll have your own room and en suite. Just until your sleep is sorted, and we can sort some antianxiety and anti depressants while under supervision. I’m fairly sure there’s a bed coming up tomorrow or the next day.”
Xander sat stock still for a moment then stated flatly, “So I am officially insane. Just… please, can I talk to Giles because if you guys are going to do something that involves being strapped down or, I don’t know, bars? There’s gonna have to be a court order.”
Dr Hokin simply smiled and handed Xander a card. “Mr Harris, the Council of Watchers is fully insured for their employees so your stay will be in our private facility. You can sign yourself out at any time.”
Giles delivered him to the door two days later, Xander signed his name in a rather shakey hand, and he was directed to his new abode for the next four or so weeks.
And strangely enough, despite all his worry about stigma or horror stories of mental hospitals of bygone eras, he relaxed on the first night after sleeping meds prescribed by his doctor (the first of seven days of sleeping tablets as agreed to), and the second sleeping a fitful ten hours without worry of attack or dire consequences for charges. Dreamless and comfortable, and utterly surprised, he realized on the second morning that he had almost missed breakfast sleeping twelve hours straight. Xander nodded to the male nurse on his wing and headed to consume a hearty cooked breakfast before confronting his first day of official ‘therapy’ sessions.
Signing up for art therapy and a more worrying stress understanding and management session before lunch, he still felt relaxed for the first time in what seemed like… forever. Still he knew, he was in a private hospital, the people around him were struggling with their own ‘demons’, he just hoped his would be found to be neuro-chemical rather than 'real' insanity.
_________________________________________
PART 5
Xander’s life fell into a rather set pattern after coming to terms with the routine of the hospital, though he was still rather ‘miffed’ that he could not lock his own door due to the night nurses (male and female) being required to check on him several times a night apparently.
His room was much in the fashion of a classy hotel room – but for the single bed – the en suite ample and it was serviced daily. A small alcove sported a desk and window overlooking a pleasant garden and had sun in the afternoon. Willow had supplied him with a laptop computer, and though internet was not available, he was able to read from the many books she had loaded on for him, listen to music, watch movies, and do something he thought he would never undertake post high school, write.
In the beginning it was just random thoughts on a document, but as the days passed he began to compose somewhat of a journal of his travels, trying to remember places and people from his past in minute detail. It was a healing process of sorts, though he still avoided the harsher realities of his experiences.
He was always up and showered by the time the morning call for breakfast came, greeting Charles with a genuine smile on the fifth day, before padding down the long corridor to the dining room.
Breakfast started at 7.30am and finished at 9, though the ‘perpetually confused’ members of their exclusive club tended to wander in just after the kitchen closed, much to the cook’s chagrin. They were always fed and given the same speech about arriving on time complete with stern looks and promises that this was the ‘last time’.
He avoided most of his fellow patients for the first two days, but after art therapy on day three, began to talk to a rather portly gent who sported a stiff back brace and suffered from chronic back pain due to an injury incurred when a rather violent attack on his clothing shop saw him defend a young worker against thieves and saw him tossed down a set of stairs. Kevin apparently checked himself in a couple of times a year for pain management and ‘to give the missus a break’, though Xander came to the conclusion that it was rather the other way around.
Dr Hokin visited each afternoon, and despite Xander’s efforts to the contrary, managed to have him admit to some of the horrors of his time in Africa, his early home life and the devastation that led to his loss of an eye (carefully edited) and the consequent demise of Sunnydale (again with details of vampires witches etc deliberately omitted). For the first time since what seemed like a lifetime ago, he allowed himself to grieve for his parents, and Anya, and Spike, and the many others he had witnessed passing in the event.
In one particularly harrowing session, he admitted his feelings of powerlessness over circumstance, his thoughts of impotence in the face of ‘unspeakable odds’ and his lack of ability to save the people he was charged with protecting. Dr Hokin had taken notes, made some suggestions and recommended that he take his time before deciding to ‘check out’. And after a week of ‘lockdown’, recommended that Xander join the small group of patients who were allowed to attend the local pool and fitness center.
Despite his trepidation, he was still appreciative when Giles delivered his swimming gear, and from the moment he dived in to the warm water, he felt that life just might improve. He hadn’t really swum since high school, not for recreation at least, though there had been several times when he had been forced to make an escape via the aquatic route during his time rounding up new slayers. After initially experiencing dismay at his lack of condition, three days into the new routine he simply pedaled up and down with an easy freestyle and genuinely enjoyed the feeling of exercising ‘for the heck of it’.
So that became the pattern. Breakfast and morning meds, group therapy, lunch, afternoon at the aquatic center, dinner, chat with his doctor, evening meds, write, then bed… and repeat. Giles visited twice, once to bring in his fitness gear, and the second as a courtesy. Other than that, he was left to his daily happenings and began to heal, a little at a time.
Spike would never admit it aloud, but the drive north with Connor was rather fun.
For a start, the boy was genuinely friendly, intelligent and a willing and (as it turned out) a witty conversationalist.
Spike was still chuckling and staring out the passenger side window after Connor’s rather terrible attempt to imitate Spike’s accent.
“Oh come on! It wasn’t that bad!”
“Little more coaching and around ten years of proper practice mate, you might just ‘ave it down.” Spike punched the driver lightly in the arm and grinned in his direction as Connor tried his best to look annoyed.
“Alright, you do American SoCal then… if you can.”
“Ah let’s see…” Spike paused for effect whilst trying rather desperately to think of the correct terminology to suit the accent.
“OK how’s this?” then in a falsetto voice said, “OMG I cannot believe you’re wearing that. You do realize that halter tops that colour are so last year.”
Connor roared laughing and almost changed lanes by mistake before offering an apology, “Geez Spike, if I knew you did ‘little sister speak’ I would not have started this!”
Spike grinned and pushed his right arm out of the open window to catch the draft of the car as they sped along the I5, still wondering at his immunity to the sun. “Just as well then mate, figure if I’ve gotta meet your nearest an’ dearest afore we hit campus, might as well give it a go. Anyways, was taught by the best. Slayers little sis used to spend a fair bit of time with me before…”
Spike cut off suddenly, and Connor spared a sideways glance, seeing in a short moment the pang of pain wash across handsome features, so he quickly shifted the subject.
“Mum and Dad will just love to get to know you I’m sure.”
“That right? So what’ve you told ‘em? That I’m a dashing 150+ year old vampire, who’s a relative of sorts and who’s saved the world a time or two?”
It was Connor’s turn to scoff, “Yeah right, not. I told them you are a Post Doc student in Law History, and before you ask, Matti told me about your studies, well a bit. Anyways I figured, you are here to look at the American legal system and doing some tutoring on the side. Oh, and that you write poetry as a hobby.”
“Bloody hell!”
“What?”
“This mean I have to invest in a brown swede patched jacket, an’ a pith helmet or sommit? Bugger that!”
“Spike… geez… Just?! I know who you are, and what you are, and kind of get that you are a whole lot more, especially intellectually. Just play along… please? Remember why we’re stopping in?”
Spike looked a little contrite (and somewhat pleased) after the outburst, and muttered a quiet, “No worries mate. I’ll give it me best.”
A few hours later they pulled up to the front of a pretty double story home in Fremont, in a leafy suburb that was bordered by Lake Elizabeth.
Spike would never admit to being nervous, but still brushed himself down as he departed the small RV and wished that his ‘upgrade’ had come with the ability to check in a mirror.
Connor strode up the path with a confidence and familiarity that Spike did not share, the vampire hanging back, hoping he would be found an acceptable candidate for the Reilly’s son’s venture into independent living ‘out of digs’. He need not have worried.
Connor’s adoptive mother was at the open front door before her son even made it to the bottom step of the porch. The woman reminding Spike instantly of Joyce Summers with associated easy smile and pleasant demeanor that promised a warm welcome.
Connor immediately fell into a hearty hug then turned to introduce the interloper. “Mum, this is S…William, the guy I met in L.A. that I told you about.”
Warm hazel eyes were turned on Spike as he too made his way up the stairs. “So lovely to meet you William. Connor has told us all about you. I’m so glad you boys could stop in while you do your house hunting. And you really must stay until you’re all settled. I’m so glad Connor has decided to… well it doesn’t matter at the moment… come in… Come in!”
Spike, to his credit, took the offered hand but rather than shaking it, gave it a genteel kiss on the back followed by “Charmed Mrs Reilly. And thank you so much for the welcome.”
In the ensuing four days it took for Spike and Connor to find new lodgings near(ish) to Stanford, Connor was amazed at how easily Spike was incorporated into their house, and a little jealous of all the attention his sisters seemed to pay their unexpected guest, particularly when it came to the number of girlfriends who happened to ‘drop by’ in the two afternoons they were actually at home.
His sisters (to their credit) were rather protective of their brother’s new friend, making sure he always had an exit planned as a seemingly endless number of female lashes were batted in his direction over glasses of iced tea or simply across a room.
Finally Spike took matters into his own hand admitting, apparently embarrassed that he was in fact ‘gay’, and had no designs on the brother Connor as he, Spike, was but temporarily parted from the love of his life due to work commitments. It was an embellishment of the truth to be sure, but seemed to quell the tide of young women apparently determined to win his heart. It didn’t stop Connor’s youngest sister Claire from all but begging Spike to accompany her to the Homecoming Ball at her high school. He begged off (backed by Connor’s mother) on the grounds that he was far too old, promptly suggesting a number of prospective beaus more suited to the task.
Though she pouted at the time, the handsome captain of the swim team eventually came to the party and Spike was afforded a reprieve.
The trip back to the coven was odd after the five weeks of safety in a place that Xander had come to think of home, the Delmont, but it had to happen eventually. In that place he had found his high school physical form (severe loss of weight and associated adult construction musculature notwithstanding), had a schedule he knew was important to keep, had rediscovered his love of woodwork, and to continue writing, though the subject matter was becoming something he would rather not share - other than anonymously online to a random writers’ group which he had learned of whilst he was ‘convalescing’ from Justin, a rather intense young man with jet black hair, effeminate features and a penchant for spitting into the nearest bush whenever anyone mentioned their mother.
And despite, or perhaps because of, Justin’s enthusiasm that he should post anything he wrote, Xander found he actually enjoyed the feedback, and so began his venture into the world of fantasy. Although for him it was autobiographical for the most part.
He was given a space in the coven workshop to create with wood and when not there took himself to his room to write. But Giles still worried on a number of levels.
Xander was certainly ‘better’, but Giles still remembered the big hearted, open boy from Sunnydale and struggled with the quiet, withdrawn man, though no longer feared the man might take his own life as two of Giles’ peers had during his university days. It did not stop him worrying for Xander’s future however, and there was no way Giles could imagine him going back into the field without disastrous repercussions.
Xander attended the outpatient program at the Delmont twice a week and saw Dr Hokin every month, took his medication and tried hard to fit back into life at Council headquarters, but he felt directionless and useless on the whole. Who really wanted a one eyed, emotionally damaged ‘nutter’ in their lives longer term. He had no formal training, just a whole lot of experiences. He’d been out of the construction business since leaving Sunnydale, so even something he had prided himself as being good at in years past was no longer available. He voiced his worry in several of the group therapy sessions and to Dr Hokin. Eventually the suggestion that he try his hand at a woodwork course being run at a local arts and crafts center provided a focus and Giles organized some tools and a small workshop at Council headquarters.
A month after establishing the workshop, Giles thought Xander was doing a lot better particularly as he seemed to be taking a keen interest in his woodwork and continued to write. But when Willow visited for the first time since Xander’s stay in hospital, Giles was confronted by a tearful witch and realized that he had perhaps simply become used to the changed man.
“He’s not the same person Giles… it’s like he’s lost himself! And he’s so thin!”
“My dear he’s put on some weight since before hospital, but I confess he eats only if I cook and put it in front of him. I fear that he often goes the whole day without more than a small meal at night if he’s in his workshop. The days he attends the clinic I know he at least gets morning tea and lunch.”
“When I asked him about friends he just shrugged and kept on sanding the table top he’s working on.” Willow blew her nose and wiped away tears before continuing, “What can we do? We have to do something! Maybe there’s a spell that would help?”
Giles took Willow’s small hand in his, “No Willow. No spell. He has to heal on his own and it will be a long journey. We simply need to be there to support him when he needs it. As Dr Hokin and all his therapists keep saying PTSD is not a simple fix and even the professionals say it is not a single solution that will help but a combination. They are doing their best and so must we, the rest is up to Xander.”
Mid afternoon post Willow’s visit he found Xander sitting in a darkened bedroom staring at himself in a mirror apparently blank. He turned the light on and the brunette jumped to standing and swung around with fright.
“Are you alright, dear fellow?”
“Fine, I’m… yeah I guess I’m fine. The mirror is wonky though.” Giles nodded at the strange comment, “I see. Well I’m about to make tea, would you like a slice of apple cake with it Meredith my secretary’s specialty”
“No just a black tea would be fine… just a bit weaker than last time.”
“Indeed. Are you coming down?”
“Yeah, be there in a minute. Just need a shower.” Giles was about to point out that Xander had already showered that day but thought better of it.
“Right I’ll see you in ten then.”
Xander grabbed the towel from where it hung by the heater, slung it over his shoulder and made his way down the hall in the opposite direction to Giles.
Giles woke suddenly around 3am the next morning to agonizing screaming from Xander’s room down the hall. Grabbing his old robe from behind the door and flinging it on he raced to the younger man’s door and burst inside flicking the light on as he went.
Xander was curled up in a ball in the corner of his room arms over his head as if under attack intermittently crying out and sobbing. Giles squatted down beside him and gentled away resistant arms. When Xander scrambled away and jammed himself between his dresser and the bed, Giles followed this time speaking to him as though to a frightened child, “Xander… Xander… It’s just me, Giles… It’s just me… Xander you’re safe… Your safe here…”
After a long minute the young man looked up, staring at Giles with a wild look of terror in his eye and blood from a nasty gash on his forehead dripping into the empty socket of the other. Giles took both Xander’s hands in his and said quietly, “What’s happening son? What are you seeing? Xander it’s me Giles, can you tell me what’s wrong?”
Xander gave a hitched sob and whispered, “They just keep dying… all just ripped apart and dead… bloodied and all dead… and I can’t help… can’t reach…” He started to hyperventilate and shake violently then let out a blood curdling scream, followed by “No… No!! I can’t breathe… I can’t… help me!!! I’m disappearing… I’m disappearing… I can’t breath and I’ll be gone… just like them… gone… gone…”
Giles grabbed him by the shoulders and with a strength borne of desperation pulled the bigger man into his lap and enveloped him in a tight hug and simply held on, repeating over and over, “You’re here Xander, you’re here and you’re safe.”
Eventually the shaking subsided somewhat and Xander went quiet, but for the occasional sob.
Giles gentled him up until he could sit on the bed and wrapped him in a comforter, and sat next to him rubbing small circles on his back. “I’ll get you some mirtazapine OK? Later we’ll ring Dr Hokin OK? I’ll only be a minute, will you be OK if I do that?”
Xander gave a single nod and pulled the comforter tighter.
True to his word Giles collected Xander’s drugs and a glass of water juggling that and the phone he returned to Xander’s room as quickly as possible. Rather than ringing Dr Hokin’s rooms he called the hospital and spoke to a member of their CAT team. After a few pointed questions, the advice was that a bed was available, so he should bring the boy in the next morning and they would contact his doctor on his emergency number immediately.
At least Xander seemed happy at that, knew where he was going and why.
He was welcomed easily by a nurse he knew and ushered to a different wing to that he had stayed in previously, but the rooms were much the same.
Giles had carefully packed his laptop and basic clothing, intent upon visiting the following day with anything else necessary. His drugs were checked in and Xander left sitting on his bed still shaky and staring into space but at least somewhat calm, or at least resigned, regards what was to happen next.
All settled, he trained his one good eye on Giles and stated in a flat tone, “It’s OK Giles, go home. I’ll be fine now. Second home and all that apparently…”
The old Watcher looked rather pained by the despondent tone, but still managed a forced cheerful, “Right then, I’ll let the Art Center know you’ll be missing for a week or two.”
“Yeah, taa… I finished the table top at least.”
“Indeed you did Xander, and it’s beautiful… indeed you did… Well, I’ll leave you to it. Your computer is plugged in on the desk if you want to….”
He barely heard the “Yeah, whatever,” as the brunette curled into a ball and faced away from Giles as the Watcher departed. It would be four hours before Dr Hokin was available for a consultation, but at least Giles felt that the troubled brunette would be well cared for (again).
A week later, Xander had fallen back into the pattern that was life at the hospital after the initial shame he felt at having to return so soon, but there were others there that remembered him. The staff were understanding and helpful, the therapists reassuring, and some of the inpatients genuinely welcoming. It wasn’t home, it wasn’t permanent, nor was it ideal, but it was a reprieve. His drugs were changed and he slept dreamlessly for the most part as a consequence. There was no workshop, but he did return to his art and his writing pace increased.
Part 6
On the second week of his stay, Xander was feeling decidedly better once more. It was early evening just after dinner and he was again writing at his small desk, intermittently gazing out the window that this time faced only toward a quiet street. Dr Hokin was a little late but Xander was unworried. His latest story was about a certain blonde vampire, one he had come to respect, like even there at the end of Sunnydale, one whose good looks were undeniable, presence bigger than life, and loyalty to those he protected (Xander included) demonstrated time and again.
Xander rubbed his good eye, the one Spike had saved then tried again to describe what he imagined Spike would have been like as a human. After writing the same paragraph three times, each time feeling it was inadequate, he decided more research into Victorian England would perhaps assist.
He had only a vague idea of the lifestyle of a middle class gent of the era, and most of that via period pieces on television and the occasional movie. He already had notes jotted further down, memories of discussions with Spike about his past, anything he could recall about Spike’s ‘softer side’, snippets from Dawn and Buffy, and his own ideas regards a storyline. It was not really an attempt to write a biography, just a baseline from which to start. He’d attempted a similar story for Anya, but ultimately abandoned it after only three chapters after realizing how rather inadequately he truly knew his now dead former fiancée.
A quiet knock on the door signaled the arrival of his psychiatrist. He hit save and stood.
“Evening Xander. How are we today?”
“Fine I guess.”
Dr Hokin dragged the guest chair closer to the window and sat down. Xander turned his chair to face the doctor and did likewise. “Same story?”
“No, kind of had writer’s block and… anyway. It’s only a draft. I kind of need to do some research for this one, so I’ll kind of have to wait until I can get onto the net.”
“Hmmm. Have you been sleeping since we stopped the Sonata pills?”
“Yeah, I suppose.”
“Dreams?”
Xander snorted, “Could say that…”
“So themes still the same?”
“If you’re talking death and mayhem, less, or at least not real memories… some falling from things - buildings that sort of stuff. A weird one of flying where I couldn’t seem to get down no matter how hard I tried, the rest I just don’t really… they’re too confusing.”
“I wouldn’t worry too much if they are confusing. If you get any emotion or theme from them you might still find them informative. Try to write down anything you remember straight after you wake. We can talk through them when I visit again Friday if you like.”
“I’ll try.”
Xander stared down at his hands for a minute, frowned then said in a small voice, “I kind of want to ask you something… something kind of odd.”
Hokin smiled, in all their sessions it was the first time Xander had really ventured a question without prompting, it was progress of sorts. “Of course, go ahead.”
“Well, it’s kind of… I was standing in front of the bathroom mirror yesterday, I had the light off, ‘cause… anyway I, kind of… I just kind of disappeared… not I mean, literally. There was still someone there but it just didn’t… I sort of couldn’t recognize me… as me… I was just gone, someone else was there not me… I’m not making any sense, don’t worry about it.”
Dr Hokin frowned just a little then schooled his features back to neutral. “Has it happened before?”
“Yeah, but not for as long. Used to happen a bit when I was… away… in the field. Figured it was just ‘cause I was by myself a lot and too much in my head. So it can’t be that right?”
“Did you feel any particular emotion? At the time, or after?”
The doctor noted Xander begin to nervously roll and unroll his the hem of his sweatshirt as his patient stared at the floor again.
Answering almost in a whisper, “Lost, alone, not there, nowhere… I kind of lifted my hand up, but it wasn’t mine… I dunno really… then I kind of came back… And I kind of felt… um… sick, afraid that… Well what if it really happens and I can’t come back? What then? It’s crazy I know… but I want to be here, and *Me* not some freak nutcase who keeps scaring his friends, can’t recognize himself, and is no good to anyone… and I’m, you know… drugs and it’s better… But it’s always me but maybe not, the one with the responsibility, the one who gets them killed because I’m not fast enough or smart enough… and they die not me… but if I’m not there anymore then… that’s why I guess…” He had raised his voice gradually as he tried his best to explain… but trailed off at the last part, “I guess that’s why I’m here and they’re… not… anymore. I just… so many times it should have been me, and now I’m just a guy who needs a certificate to say he’s sane…” He trailed off.
Midway speech, tears began streaming down Xander’s cheeks from his good eye, and eventually oozed from the damaged tear duct of the scarred other as he finished.
Dr Hokin waited for the brunette to compose himself, quietly reaching for the tissue box on the desk and passing the man a couple, and was given a nod for his trouble.
“Xander, your responses are far from unusual to a combat situation, or any trauma per se, but I would like you to report if you have the sense of disassociation from yourself again. It would help you to understand and perhaps even resolve some of the underlying issues, to give the flashbacks causing you to panic some sort of context, a full storyline as it were, and may well aid in your recovery.”
After composing himself and listening, Xander nodded contritely, though not looking particularly convinced as he angled his eyes up to meet Jacob Hokin’s.
“So what now?”
“Now you stay for a little longer, keep up your writing, and when you return home, your woodwork, and we start to help you truly heal, to bring you to a sense of wholeness again. I won’t promise it will be easy or fix everything… just perhaps it will give you a starting base, yes?”
Xander felt empty and unsure but tried to meet his doctor’s eyes, to gauge the truth in the man’s words, then managed a small, “Yeah… OK.”
“Now I’m going to suggest you have another week here, we see how you are travelling and then discuss a release date you feel comfortable with.”
Xander let out a small sigh of relief and nodded once. The prospect of going home to the Watchers’ Council seemed an insurmountable task at the moment, but he knew he could not stay at the Delmont indefinitely, it was a security of sorts and one he needed right now.
“Now, I am going to leave you with some homework for Friday. Try to note down your dreams, document any more episodes of the kind you just described and do continue your exercise. I am also going to leave a prescription for meds on demand with the night nurse. I need not tell you that they are a last resort, but I do want you to feel confident that your sleep patterns are stable before you sign out. Agreed?”
The brunette mumbled his agreement, then answered more clearly, “Yeah… sure.”
The doctor stood to leave, “Right. Well I must be off, I’m afraid my partner will be terribly miffed if I don’t get home before 7.30 tonight, we’ve tickets to some live play or other.”
“Yeah… well… thanks… I, um… thanks.”
Dr Hokin smiled and departed the room. Xander slowly turned his chair back to the desk, contemplated writing some more, then decided a hot chocolate and mindless television in the common lounge was preferable.
_______________________________________
Spike and Connor’s new abode was a relatively small but comfortable apartment in a back street within walking distance of Stanford, which was a blessing as far as Connor was concerned having become used to not having to worry about lengthy time in traffic or parking whilst living at the fraternity house on campus.
Spike was easy company, generally sleeping until well after his younger ‘sibling’ had departed, rising to watch some daytime television, play house boy to a degree and as the season changed to a sunny spring took to sitting on their small balcony reading on an iPad Connor had given him having recently upgraded to a more powerful laptop. Lately, if Connor had a late start, he would accompany the young man to the university and had taken to reading in the main Green Library, after Connor had managed to obtain him a library pass on the grounds he was his brother from England and graduate of Oxford (both technically true).
The Lane Reading room made a pleasant change from the apartment, and several of the library staff more than happy to help him search out some more obscure texts, even suggesting he visit the Classics Library and the Crown Law Library after establishing his broad interests.
Spike usually sported his trademark black jeans, T-shirt and his Doc Martin boots, but his duster that had been badly damaged in the final battle, was absent. Despite being repaired and cleaned, it simply hung in the wardrobe for old time’s sake. Now he wore a short, collarless, black biker jacket or very occasionally a knit sweater. He still sported short blonde curls, often leaving them softer with product rather than gel and perhaps better described as Nordic pale blonde rather than electric white.
Connor was surprised as to how easily Spike (aka: William) blended in to the university life, if only a few times a week. There was no pretense, yet he inevitably (at least of late) had at least two or three ‘in tow’ if ever he and Spike met for lunch. Whether they were library staff, post docs or young under graduates of literature seemed of little consequence.
And Spike (to his own surprise) reveled in it. Realizing belatedly that some of the joy was to do with his ability to enjoy the lady Sun.
The Stanford ‘Cafe’ became his occasional haunt. He affected an air of nonchalance and consequently, if he happened to ‘skim’ from one or two satisfied undergrads in ‘the mens’ it was a bonus. He knew how to thrall, not as well as his Drusilla, but enough that their odd marks on the neck, when felt by a passing stroke of the hand, sent a shiver of excitement straight to their groin. And many returned to engage the ‘fascinating young academic from overseas’ more than once.
By the summer break he had quite a following of undergraduates wanting to engage him in dialogue regards history, philosophy and all things European. Initially it was a couple of Connor’s friends who he had met at their apartment once or twice, but later groups of young women and men were drawn to the handsome blonde ‘academic’ from England who had an easy smile and was willing to debate topics they otherwise found rather dull, effortlessly adding a lively narrative to any discussion pertaining to the old cities of Europe, various wars, the English legal system and sometimes even the supernatural.
He and Connor sparred nightly, their fights increasingly faster and harder each time, and, of late, went out at night to ‘patrol’. An innocent enough word if it pertained to simply wandering the streets around their abode, but so much more when two progeny of the ‘Scourge of Europe’ was concerned. They rid the city of many low life demons, vampire nests, and all besides, and ‘had a right ol’ time of it’ according to Spike.
Connor was as vicious and swift to the kill as Spike, they had the habit of fighting back to back when outnumbered. It was thrilling for both individuals, more often than not both men finishing off their opposition and grinning maniacally at each other afterward almost disappointed that the tussle was over.
Six months later, as Connor embarked on his MBA (on scholarship again having passed with no less than nothing under a ‘High Distinction’), the younger Aurelian found himself surrounded by the University’s elite early one evening at their apartment, and watched with a sense of awe as Spike held his own in a discussion related to China in the era of the Boxer Rebellion and the social upheaval that had caused the same. It was the first of many soirees and the beginning of Spike’s desire to return to England at least for a time.
Part 7
Eventually the decision was made. Connor was understanding, particularly when Spike paid his share of the rent to cover the next six months, “Just in case you can’t find another lodger or this whole thing goes to pot.”
Finally, meagre possessions packed, he was driven to the airport and given a heartfelt hug goodbye from his human ‘brother’.
He was going back to the ‘old bligthy’.
______________________________
Nothing could have prepared Spike for what came next.
He had not expected to be welcomed into to Surrey Coven let alone the inner sanctum of the Watchers’ Council HQ, though his phone call to Giles from the USA two weeks previous (initiated by Connor who gave the initial explanation as to Spike’s ongoing survival) was surprisingly pleasant, he inquired of Dawn, Buffy, Willow, even Andrew and all seemed positive. Giles alluded to the difficulties Xander had been experiencing without going into detail.
Giles offered him lodgings at a flat he owned in Soho, for a small fee to cover housekeeping. Spike graciously accepted insisting he was unsure of the duration of his stay, but was good for the funds regardless of time. After the worry of Xander, Giles found the contact welcome, and almost hoped that the two men might meet, and perhaps, though it was a long shot, just perhaps Spike could assist the troubled ex-Watcher.
Spike met Giles at the ‘green door’, storming through in a swirl of leather and black denim with a minimum of baggage.
He waited until they were driving down the freeway – the I1 – before he broached the issue that had been bothering him for days, if not weeks, “So what’s up with the boy… What’s up with Xander!?”
Giles yanked off his glasses, which Spike pulled from him and voluntarily polished using his own duster’s inner satin lining, then handed them back, repeating his question, “So? What’s up with the boy?”
“He’s not who you knew Spike. He… has problems…”
“Problems how?”
“It’s not really my place to..”
“Oh leave off watcher, boy’s in trouble, obviously so I’m inquirin’ why? Friend of sorts, fellow white hat that sort of thing. Bloody hell Watcher I lived in the boy’s godforsaken basement for good on six months… and yeah I care, so spill.”
Spike, who himself had survived more tortures and, yes… deaths than he would care to mention but this was not his boy, not Xander, he bounced back always, and yes Spike really did care. What could possibly bring the boy to his knees, what could have been so terrible that he was ‘out of commission’.
The old Watcher stared at Spike for a good minute or so then seemed to come to some conclusion. “He, well he has had a breakdown of sorts.”
Spike was furious with the namby pambying of the problem so called it, “Has or hasn’t he had a mental breakdown, Watcher!”
Giles pulled over the car into the next fast food outlet on the side of the M1 and led the vampire inside. After purchasing both of them Earl Grey tea he sat heavily and stared into his cup as though it held the answers to the universe. Finally he looked up.Giles paled under the intense scrutiny of the vampire. Xander was a friend and Giles’ erstwhile son, becoming so whilst the boy was still at school, and more so of late as he blossomed as a Watcher and collector of the newly found Slayers. But Spike was right. This was not just a normal meltdown due to battle fatigue, it was more than that, so Giles simply bent his head and let tears that had been too long held… fall.
If it had not been for Spike’s keen hearing he would have missed it, “We, that is the council pushed him too far, his last message was all normal, too normal… I knew what we were sending him into… A war zone… Oh he’d been in that before, but this one was a little more ‘difficult.’”
Spike’s ire was raised, “Difficult! What is more difficult to tip the boy over? Come on Rupert, you are taking to the thing that goes bump in the night! I’ve been most people’s worst nightmare, caused more than a few back in the day… What did you send him into?”
Giles took off his glasses and seemed to look just a little older than Spike remembered, “We didn’t realize, not how bad it had become, machetes dismembering children, guns cutting down the innocent, hand-made bombs blowing up… I can’t begin to explain, Xander has tried but it was just too much. He dealt with it in his usual style but the last time he came back with a potential… he was lost. It was the last straw…”
“That broke the camel’s back… yes… and it seems to have been a long time coming wouldn’t you say?” Spike gave a near subsonic growl and took another look at Giles and his defeated demeanour, paused a moment then pressed on. “So… that’s it, boy get’s checked in to a mental institution and all’s well with the world? You have got to be kidding me!”Spike was on a roll, and the Watcher seemed happy to have someone angry rather than defeated for a change.
“Harris – the boy who had faced down Angelus, the boy who had run with the Slayer for seven years, and from all reports, the boy who had brought more Slayers back to the coven, the Watchers than any other individual on the planet, that Alexander was waning, on his watch, and I’m havin’ none of it…”
Whatever was bothering the boy, he, Spike, needed to know.Screw Angelus, her ladyship Illyria and all else besides. The boy had, strangely, been there for him in the last few hours, of course minus the half hour shag with his ex prior to their successful closing of the hell mouth – and Spike’s burning to a crisp notwithstanding – but they had shared a sort of friendship.
So Giles and he shared what they knew of the boy, now man, over tea.
“So you see,” he concluded, “We, that is I, thought you might bring him some balance. A sense of himself… I don’t know Spike, just… a connection to who he was.”
Spike lit up a cigarette as they returned to the car before answering, “I’m happy to try.”
“That’s all we ask.”
The rest of the journey was in silence, the old watcher reflecting on the last two years and Xander’s problems, the vampire just wondering what he had walking in to, so it was hardly a surprise that Spike was barely in the door of the coven before he dumped his bags unceremoniously in the hallway, and demanded to know the way to Xander’s room.
The old coach house had been renovated and incorporated into the ground floor of the large double story house, the coven, via a long hallway. Giles had emphasized his concern that little could really prepare Spike for the defeated character he was to face as they took the rather grand Georgian hallway and proceeded to Xander’s ground floor rooms.
The boy, no man, was slumped over a table when Spike entered the room without invitation, and Giles immediately retreated.
.
Spike knew the boy was asleep, but ventured there was more to it. Spike could not help but think… There was no one – not a single individual – that would take the boy down. Not now. Not ever, and yet…
Xander didn’t even bother to lift his head, favouring his elbow as speaking point, “Come to cheer; to wax lyrical; to rejoice at the fall of the great white hat?! Well here he is… broken…. Done and dusted… you must be thrilled. And can you do a guy a favour, was planning on me but always figured it would be by demon…. Just drain me, at least let my life-source go to a good cause yeah?”
“And that’s exactly why I can’t! F*&$ sake Harris! What the hell do you think you are doing? Depression? OK, Been there done that – and quite frankly seem to remember you reminding me at the time of all the bad things I had done – so… what have you done that entitles you to be so… ?”
“Got them all killed didn’t I… all the would be slayers… would have had normal lives until I showed up… Enticed them to their ‘true calling’ and their untimely deaths… Stupid Harris, they came, they saw, they fought and died. Always the same scenario…”
Spike struggled to cope with the waves of pain that emitted from the boy… man in front of him. He had seen ‘broken’ before, and this was the epitome of it. The question was, whether or not Xander could come back from it. He immediately dropped his brash tone and interrupted quietly, “There was just you, pet, wasn’t there, just you? An’ you were tryin’ to help even though the whole bloody place was goin’ to hell in a war zone. Bloody crazy places wars. Good for killin’, maimin’ and aught else, no place for a watcher on a mission. Trust me now, I know … been there, too many bloody wars – in the literal sense. Watchers should ‘ave pulled the pin on the whole cocked up continent, bloody wankers.”
Xander failed to react, other than to stifle a sniffle, then slowly raised his head to stare rather blankly in Spike’s direction. “Why are you here? Did Giles or someone send for you? Cause it’s a lost cause. I got them killed, I saw the girls I was supposed to ‘retrieve’ violated and dismembered, I saw babies beheaded in front of their mothers, and the fathers shot in front of their sons. I carried a ten year old five kilometres to the nearest hospital run by ‘Medicine Non frontiers’ only to have him die in my arms. Maybe I am crazy, but can’t I just rest now? Won’t you do it for me?... I need to… I tried you know? Tried to off myself… all it got me was a couple of stints in the crazy house… but you know, don’t you Spike, there’s no going back… Please just finish this for me… I’m begging you… just finish it.”Xander finished his diatribe with a pleading look and trickle of silent tears from his good eye.
The only reply was “No! Not now. Not ever. You are the strongest, most annoying man on the planet and you don’t get out of that, that easily. You wouldn’t let me do it, neither with the bloody chip, nor post soul, so now it’s time to turn the tables. Fuck you Harris, didn’t really come here for this but I bloody well ain’t leavin’ with you in this state.”Spike hauled the reluctant man up by his armpits and shoved him toward some French doors that he hoped led to somewhere outside.
“Where are we going?”
“To look at the bloody night sky, and if you have a problem with that, I promise to bite you – and not in a kind way!”
Part 8
Spike leaned casually on the concrete balustrade of the small outdoor patio and waited. Xander came to a halt just outside the doors and stared rather forlornly into the darkness beyond where Spike stood, apparently unwilling to go any further.
Waiting for Xander to make any sort of comment, Spike stared upward, noting that only a few stars managed to peep out from behind the thin veil of cloud.
Silence abounded for what seemed endless minutes with the vampire intensely aware of Xander’s tense, still figure silhouetted by the light from inside.
Ultimately it was the human who broke the silence in a barely audible, “The nights were always alive with noises over there.”
Spike raised an eyebrow and was about to make a comment but decided against it as the brunette’s stance relaxed a little, hospital pale arms winding around a too thin torso to grasp the dull grey sweater in a protective hug as his gaze seemed to wander though still unfocussed.
“I never thought places worse than Sunnydale existed you know?” Xander gave a derisory snort, “Yeah right… Oh I knew humans could be vicious and unpredictable… heck I watched the news. But in the States it’s always guns and drugs and money, and an occasional random mass murder-suicide by idiot teenagers with a misguided grudge against their classmates or something… at least there you’re pretty much safe if you put your mind to it.
“Africa was different… you just didn’t know… Religious differences, territory battles, famine and disease, power and money, hell, even tribal squabbles going back hundreds of years… And the whole place is like the ‘haves’ and the ‘have nothings’. Just throw in a few corrupt politicians and a fanatic or three, add firepower (usually supplied by outsiders wanting something from the outcome) and stir.”
Spike stared hard at the man in his midst as Xander finally began to move toward him as if sleepwalking.
“I thought I’d seen the worst of people, you know? I mean…” His good eye closed and face screwed up as if in pain, Spike noticing for the first time that the sunken empty socket was without patch or prosthetic.
“… I just used to think demons or magic or something ‘other’, you know? But anything we saw back there was… I met this ex SAS guy last time I was in… you know… the hospital. He’d done two tours in the Gulf war, and one in Afghanistan before he volunteered for the UN Peace Corp. Got posted back to Afghanistan, lasted six months before he… lost it. Sent home for ‘R&R’ for… Anyway… He was a really nice guy too…”
Spike was still processing the ‘was’ in the final sentence when Xander seemed to switch gears mid thought and turned to stare hard at Spike as if willing him to pre-empt what he was about to divulge. Spike met the scrutiny with what he hoped was a steady, noncommittal gaze and waited. The voice that had been flat and without emotion began to change to one filled with anger and pain as he continued.
“Have you ever been in a war zone Spike? Wait, of course you have. Except these places… it’s not like regular war, whatever that is. It’s like there’s no rules, none. And all I was there for, was to try to find these potential Slayers when everyone and everything around was totally f#@%ed, human f#@%ed. Not just guns and bombs, but machetes and knives and disease and starvation… and there were…” Xander began to shake as memories of the horror flooded in, his stare becoming as intense as his emotions took over.
“It wasn’t even the first or the second or even the twentieth one I retrieved and sent back here, it wasn’t that I didn’t have the right contacts, or the resources to get them out safely… Her name was Halla, it means ‘unexpected gift’, kind of ironic really considering her Slayer status was pretty much unknown until... well you know that bit I guess. Wills and Giles told me to be ultra careful – they always said that. Still, it was my decision to leave Farah (the slayer assigned to me) in Algiers, safe ‘cause the Democratic Republic of Congo? Not the easiest of places on a good day, even with the UN Peacekeepers around. I figured I’d be OK doing an in and out, quick mission, so I flew into Bunia from Kampala with some of the UN forces.
“The UN’s there to try to stop the ivory trade and control the radically political insurgents along the eastern borders - well all the borders really. The militants are armed and/or paid for the ivory by smugglers (some of whom are even corrupt government officials) who don't care how many elephants or people get killed or where the guns end up, just that they get their booty out and onto the black market.
"Everything was barbed wire and blue berets when we arrived and the town seemed peaceful and fairly well off - they even had a school and university there - but I was warned by the soldiers that outside the zone could 'get messy'.
"I found a driver with an old four wheel drive truck who was willing to take me where I needed to go, for a fee - the Council was paying so… anyway…
“It was wet season and we were driving out onto the flatlands, so that made a quagmire of what passed for the road out to the village in the Apanwaza region where Willow had located Halla, the new Slayer. It was only around a hundred kms but took us a day and a half of digging out bogged wheels, avoiding debris and occasional the dead animals to get there. I should have guessed there was trouble ahead on the second day when the driver got spooked as we crossed the Aruwimi River. We were met on the other side by a band of gun-toting young boys who demanded we pay them for our ‘safe passage’, and ‘accept’ their offer of two of them accompanying us on our journey west.
“The village was only just visible from the road, just a few houses made of tin and whatever materials could be found in the scrubland around. I should have guessed there was something wrong straight away, there was no smoke from fires or human noises, but I figured I’d been in too many places where... Anyway... The boys with the guns sort of grinned at me when I jumped from the truck, but I didn’t take much notice at the time – except for the fact that they had their guns at the ready, but again with the ‘normal’ I guess.”
Spike focussed on the brunette’s hands and noted that the shaking remained even as he began mechanically rolling and unrolling the hem of his t-shirt. He contemplated commenting that a lone Scoobie in the scrubs of middle Africa was hardly the wisest of travel plans, let alone venturing on a mission in an unstable war zone to pick up a random newly emerged Slayer. But Xander’s voice had dropped to barely above a whisper, and Spike realised that this was something beyond a normal travel log, perhaps the only time Xander had divulged fully what had happened to anyone, so remained silent.
“It was too quiet, well apart from a few chickens and goats wandering around, and a mangy dog or two sniffing at things. Villages usually have... you know... at least a few people at home even if the majority are out tending their farm or whatever. But there was no one, just mud and animals and quiet. So I walked through the mud and into the first hovel. There were some cooking pots on the floor and what looked like the start of a meal being prepared, but no one around.
“I was kind of aware of the truck engine still running, but figured Lhawi wasn’t going to risk us getting stuck there any longer than he had to.
“By the time I had been to the third house I knew there was something really wrong. There were signs of a struggle and blood on one of the outside walls. I think I picked up a hoe as I walked into the fourth place, and that’s where I found them...”
Tears began to flow from Harris’s good eye and leak slowly from the maimed scar of the missing one, and Spike fancied the man was going pale as the memories overtook him, but the whispered recount of the experience did not stop.
“They were there. Bloated bodies and bits of...” Xander’s voice hitched but he continued, “There was a foot, a child’s foot, tiny... and one body with no hands or head... I... and the flies... and the smell! Ghod! The smell!!”
Xander gripped the edge of the balustrade, turned suddenly and promptly threw up into the garden. He coughed a few more times, roughly wiped his sleeve across his mouth, then bent further to rest his forehead on his arms.
Spike knew the smell Xander described too well and was assailed by memories of his own. Images of he and Dru stumbling past just such a scene in the Dardanelles during WWI, him cursing their vampire sense of smell and the stupidity of humanity, Dru alternately trying to dance to the 'pretty lights' of the artillery fire and trying to pull away from Spike as he guided her around the carcasses of too many men.
He pulled himself back to the present and waited, somehow gleaning that the worst of the story was yet to come. He knew better than to touch the man, but instinctively moved closer as Xander took a shuddering breath and let the man continue.
“I... I couldn’t... I’d seen bodies before hundreds of them, blown up, gun shots, dead in the street, even witnessed an execution style... but these were just... butchered, every last one... I... I didn’t lose it then, at least I don’t think I did, but it’s all a bit of a blur really. I know I found a little can of oil, for cooking I think... tipped it out over the pile of... over... them and set it alight... set the whole house alight. When I stood back to watch, that’s when I saw... her. She was face down near the edge of a clearing that led towards a track.
“She was older, I figured the grandmother or something, I thought it must have been her that put up a fight - two dead militia boys nearby kind of indicated someone had at least. There was a gun shot wound in her back but I rolled her over anyway... and as I did... as I did her ::hitch:: her stomach... and all the... it just all spilled out, all over my boots and into the mud. They had... it was... Her face was sliced but you could still see... And I couldn’t just leave her there, but I couldn’t move her either, not without... ::hic:: I tried to dig a bit of a hole with the hoe but it was too muddy, so I went back to one of the huts and got a few of the thin blankets there and rolled her back over, and kind of just put them over her. I pulled some branches down from the scrub trees to pile on top.
“It was raining again and the driver started yelling something to me. As I turned to head back I thought I saw something in the trees, and there she was. I don’t know how or why, but I knew it was the Slayer I had come for, Halla.
“When I got closer I saw she was still alive... somehow she was still alive. She didn’t move when I approached her, just sat there in the mud with a sort of blank stare. She was spattered with blood and bleeding from a huge gash down the arm holding a broken chair leg. There was one of the militia rifles in her other hand but she didn't raise it, so I squatted down in front of her and, just talked to her quietly, said everything was going to be OK, that I was Xander and I knew she was Halla, that she was OK, that I was…
"But there was more shouting from the truck and I knew we had to get out of there. When I grabbed her good arm to pull her up, she let out an almost silent scream and shoved herself backwards. I thought she was going to attack me but instead she dropped the chair leg, grabbed what I thought was a bundle of rags she had been cradling in her lap and struggled to standing with the gun pointing at me.
"Something must have clicked for her then, I don't know, maybe just the fact I was a westerner or… I just dunno… Anyway, she eventually lowered the gun and followed me back toward the truck. As we rounded the building I had set on fire, I saw what all the shouting was about. There were three older men with guns standing around my driver who was kneeling in the mud apparently pleading with them, one of the gun barrels only inches from his head. The two boy soldiers we had come with didn't seem to be around.
"I tried to back away, hoping they hadn't spotted us, but the driver saw, and then it all happened so quickly…
"He shouted a warning, then the shot fired and he fell to his side, executed, in the mud. In those few seconds Halla had shoved the bundle at me as she pushed past cocking her weapon as she went, and opened fire. It must have been a rapid fire assault rifle because the magazine was empty before I could even register what was going on or move. The militia men must have been surprised too, 'cause they only got off a few round before she mowed them down and collapsed back onto me.
"One of the guys was still alive, screaming on the ground, by the time I pulled from under her. She tried to move but her leg was shattered, one of their bullets had torn through her thigh. She kept pointing to the truck and the carnage in front of it, and I realized the injured man was still trying to reach for his weapon which had fallen along side him somewhere. So I… I… ran forward and picked up the gun and… I was going to… I don't know… but then he sort of saw what I… and went to grab something from his belt… and I shot him… and he stopped… time, noise, all just… stopped.
"I really don't remember anything from there until I was carrying her into the hospital some time at night back in Bunia. I don't even know how we got into the truck, or crossing the damned river, whether we saw anyone, or paid anyone or got bogged again, not even how long it took really… But then I was waiting in a white room outside the operating theatres and someone was shoving a hot tea into my hand, and I just sat there, for hours, while people rushed in and out…
"Then there was a young doctor with bloodied scrubs and a mask around his neck standing over me, and he was saying sorry… that they had done all they could, but the leg… and the blood loss had been to great… and together with her other injuries… and they had tried but couldn't save her… And then a nurse was there saying the baby in the truck, the bundle Halla had been holding in the bush and which I had apparently brought with us, had been dead for days. And that our driver’s body had been delivered back to his family – I didn’t even remember putting it him in the back of the truck… Then she led me to another room where I was to wait and give a report to the UN officer who would be there within the hour…
"After that it's all just blank. I don’t really know how I got back to Algiers, but I did, and then we were on a plane to Heathrow, and then… here… And I just… It was all just… wrong.”
Xander turned, the look of utter desolation and grief so evident it caused Spike’s breath to hitch. This time he did reach out and just managed to catch the human as legs gave out. He gentled Xander to the cold paving stones and sat beside him cradling the now sobbing man to his shoulder, rubbing small circles on the too thin upper arm, still not game to break his own silence, opting to wait in case there was more pain that needed to be expressed.
After many minutes, and a shirt sleeve wet with Xander’s tears later, the brunette began to speak again. This time it was accompanied by Spike’s soft, rumbling purr as he continued his comforting action against Xander’s skin.
“Everything back here was so… normal… but not, you know? The coven, the slayers in training, people I knew just carrying on with their lives… and I just… couldn’t. I just couldn’t… nothing seemed to have meaning any more, I didn’t have anything to… I don’t know… and they kept saying I should eat, even when it all tasted like ash, and every dream I had I’d see it… her… them… And the smells of cooked meat, of petrol or mud, it was all still there. And they kept asking what was wrong… asking me to explain what had *really* happened, as though I had missed something or that there was some monster or demon involved that I had not mentioned. Shit Spike!” Xander’s posture stiffened and he turned to stare directly at his vampire audience.
“I mean the coven and everyone here want to know about demons and possessions and magicks… and the psychiatrists want to know about my upbringing and all that ‘normal’ response to crisis situations stuff, at least they kind of got the in a warzone trauma thing I s’pose… And everyone kept telling me that I was important… and that what I did in life had a purpose… that I did the right things despite the outcomes, and that I need to ‘focus on being in the moment’ and ‘enjoy the now’… And it’s all bulls@#t! Arrrghhh!!! It doesn’t mean anything! I’m still here and I don’t know why, and there is so much wrong out there, and I just… I’m not… Urgh! You have to understand… I’m not worth it anymore. ‘M a lost cause or something. Nobody can… *F@#$*!”
Xander was shaking with rage and almost shouted the last rather incoherent statement, after which he seemed to lose all his energy, pulled slightly away from Spike and curled in on himself, forehead on his knees and arms over the top in a protective gesture.
Spike stared at his own hands in the silence that followed, smelled further tears and the scent of anguish and pain flowing from the boy. He understood. Not just the reasons for Xander reaching his breaking point, but the collective effects of being participant, or even simply bearing witness in a life of violence, whether voluntarily or by chance, involving the natural or the supernatural, and regardless whether actions were deemed courageous, selfless and successful, or maleficent, or simply foolhardy and doomed.
He contemplated his existence as human and the years post his vampiric state; the years with Dru; Sunnydale before and after the chip, then the soul; unlife as a ghost and then corporeal at Wolfram and Hart; and after. His own nightmares still plagued him, there were still times when he questioned his own purpose for existence. Memories of experiences and motivations, good and bad, often warred within, torturing his psyche if he let them. How had he endured? In the end, he just had.
He turned to examine the miserable figure of the formerly irrepressible boy he’d known in Sunnydale. What did a future at the coven or the Watcher’s Council really hold for the man now? While Xander stayed in this environment he was treated with ‘kid gloves’, seen as a wounded individual in need of care, someone to be rehabilitated and either sent back into harms way or ‘put out to pasture’ as it were, relegated to some sort of normalcy that had, for the ex Scoobie, never really existed.
Spike sighed and shook himself out of his reverie. He knew what to do, but it would take a number of phone calls and some convincing of Giles and the others before he could put his fledgling of a plan into place, and even then he was unsure of the ultimate outcome. Still, he was here and Harris needed him, he knew that much, and it was enough.
He stood and held out a hand to the man on the ground, “C’mon mate, reckon it’s time to get some rest somewhere horizontal and bed-like.”
Xander stirred, wiped his face with both hands and sniffed hard, grasping the offered hand and standing with a less than elegant groan. He stumbled a little as he began to transfer his weight and walk, giving a wry smile and rather derisory snort, “Foot’s gone to sleep, sorry.”
Spike pushed the man toward the small ensuite, “You do your human thing. I’ll just wait ‘til you’re settled then take my leave, okay?”
Spike moved back to the sitting room, closed the French doors and turned the main lights off. He heard the toilet flush and the sounds of a face being washed and teeth cleaned. He waited a few moments then moved to the door of the bedroom as a small table lamp switched on illuminating Xander’s gaunt but much more relaxed looking face on his pillow in the gloom.
“Right well… Reckon I’ll take my leave mate.”
Xander looked momentarily crestfallen, and bit his bottom lip a little before eyeballing Spike and in a small voice replied, “Please don’t tell the others all that stuff… I mean they know pretty much everything anyway, but they’ll just get all worried again… and…”
Spike’s hint of a smile held genuine understanding as he turned to leave, “Right you are. Sleep tight, ‘n I’ll see you on the morrow.”
As much as Xander knew nothing had been resolved, or that he was any the wiser as to why Spike was even here, he felt somehow a little lighter for Spike’s visit, his last thought before falling asleep was that he actually looked forward to a ‘morrow’ with a certain blonde vampire, apparently now friend and confidante, in it.
Part 9
Spike let himself out as quietly as possible, and noted that light from the library was still on and spilling into the hallway as though an invitation.
Giles looked up from the book he was reading, promptly marked the page of the leather bound tome and placed it on the side table by the burgundy Chesterfield lounge on which he was seated.
Pulling his glasses off and rubbing his eyes for a moment with his free hand, he stood and then gestured toward a comfortable reading chair opposite.
“Do have a seat Spike. Drink?”
“Don’t mind if I do. Taa.” He sat heavily reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his cigarettes. “Do you mind?”
“Of course not, though I doubt many of the coven would appreciate the additional odor.”
“Right you are then.” Spike smiled ruefully but returned the packet to his pocket before Giles handed him a generous serve of single malt whiskey in a heavy crystal tumbler then, pouring one for himself, returned to his position on the leather couch.
Spike gave Giles a small salute with his glass then relaxed back in his chair as the old Watcher did likewise then sipped his drink, placed it gently on the broad arm rest of the couch and stared at the glass and its contents, twisting it contemplatively. Spike took a gulp of the liquor, appreciating its quality and the burn as it went down.
“I take it you two spoke.”
“Could say that. Though I reckon ‘twas me did most of the listenin’.” Spike unconsciously mimicked Giles’ action with his glass. “Boy seems to have had quite the time of it, but figure you know the details.”
“Yes, well at least the gist of it. We had his reports and what information we could glean from allied organizations, and of course his doctors have kept us informed where appropriate. I must say it strikes me as unusual for Xander to converse for such a long period, with anyone, particularly voluntarily as it were.”
“Yeah? Well I expect a neutral pair of ears and friend of old… at least comrade in arms… that sort of thing, brings out the reminiscing side of most of us. Still not clear on aught but his last trip to the dark continent, and gotta say if that was typical ‘tis no surprise he went a little sack’o hammers.”
“Good Lord?! He described his time there? In how much detail? What were the specifics of the shootings? How did he make it back to the UN base? Spike you are the first person... ”
Spike interjected as he processed the questions and the utter surprise being expressed, realizing suddenly that Xander had confided in him where he very well may not have done so to any other being to date.
“Hold your horses, Rupert. Boy’s in a bad way, c’n spot that a mile away. Even asked me to off him an’ I was barely in the door.”
“He what?! Surely you didn’t…?” Giles looked about to explode and made to stand, but stilled as Spike raised his free hand and fixed him with a rather angry glare.
“Oi! Don’t do that any more! Least not to thems as don’t deserve it, an’ certainly not a chap, no, friend of old, in such a bad way. No, boy needed to get a few things off his chest, private like. Reckon he figured I wouldn’t judge, maybe even understand more ‘n your lot. Least ways, he took me into his confidence, and much as I would like to divulge all the gory details, I don’t see as it would help at this point.”
Giles looked as though he was about to argue, then slumped back into his chair defeated. Spike noted how tired, worried and old the man appeared all of a sudden. “Yes, indeed. It just seems that he has made very little progress beyond acknowledging his disorder and complying with treatment suggestions. I fear he spends a great deal of time disengaged from other people unless prompted. Though I must say he does still show an interest in his woodwork and, according to his psychiatrist, has been writing a fictional story of some sort, though I confess he refuses to let me read it.”
Spike forewent sipping his drink, instead downing the remaining contents of his glass and moving to the sideboard to provide himself a refill. He turned, glass in hand, studied Giles profile for a moment, and ventured a question that had been bothering him since the trip from the airport.
“So just to get some things straight. You lot all walked away from Sunnydale and parted company. Some with the dark slayer and Nikki’s boy Robin,” Spike couldn’t help the slight growl as he uttered the name but quickly composed himself and continued. “You, Red and the rest of the new slayers came here and set up the new Watchers’ Council, Buffy and Dawn headed for Italy, so what did Harris do? Ponce Andrew made no mention of him in his hilarious visit to LA – or even after, in Italy. Though I can’t say I asked, we were sort of preoccupied at the time.”
“Yes, well, Andrew did make mention in his rather overly florid reports that you had met on several occasions, though the topics of discussion were hardly his focus. Damned boy. I should make mention that he has developed into rather good Watcher, despite, or perhaps because of, his overly ‘enthusiastic’ approach. No, Xander didn’t come with us. He bade us farewell at LA airport and the next time we saw him was almost eighteen months later, here, volunteering his services.”
“He give a reason?”
“I take it, he had used the time to locate his parents who had settled in the outskirts of Sacramento courtesy of the ‘Disaster Fund’ set up for former Sunnydale residents. From what he’s told me, he was welcomed and offered lodgings with them, but preferred to strike out on his own. He’s divulged little about the remainder of his time in the US, other than he was gainfully employed in construction somewhere in Washington DC before venturing here.”
“So what? He turns up and your lot just decide to throw him back in harms way for the greater good?”
“Quite the contrary, Spike. He stayed here at the coven, indeed it was he who project-managed the renovation of the stables in exchange for free board, and as soon as it was finished, indicated he wanted to be more heavily involved in the workings of the Council, particularly the retrieval of young Slayers. His penchant for the outdoors, desire to travel – in particular Africa for reasons unknown to me – made him an obvious choice as field operative in that region. We assigned him one of our most level headed, French speaking, young Slayers, Farah Litand, an Algerian national. They were a perfect team it seemed. Xander made no indication that he was under too much pressure, or that his task, though often quite difficult and dangerous, was beyond him (or rather them).
“Indeed the man proved our most effective Watchers on the ground as it were, even making valuable contacts in various NGOs and as a consequence even became a trusted friend of a number of highly placed members in UN Peacekeeping circles. His reports were always succinct and to the point, and only mentioned the challenges involved in locating and transferring the young Slayers when it pertained to their ongoing wellbeing. It was Farah who flagged his distress and arranged his return after two years in the field.”
Spike returned to his chair, placing his glass on one of the brocaded arms and twisted it around, swirling the amber liquid and contemplating the information in the somewhat comfortable silence that ensued.
Giles finally finished his own drink, and stood stiffly to replenish his glass, standing at the sideboard for rather too long. With decanter in hand, and back to Spike, he ventured, “I must say I was surprised by your interest in his welfare, Spike.”
Spike looked up as the Watcher turned to look hard at him, as though suspicious of his motives. The blonde vampire was unsurprised by the scrutiny. The old watcher and he had never really had a ‘comfortable’ relationship, more of a truce in the last days of Sunnydale. Standing in front of the wall of bound books, glass in hand, face lit only by the small table lamp, Spike fancied he saw some of the ‘Ripper’ in the stare, before tiredness and worry replaced it.
“Dunno really. Had intended to head back over the drink, give Angel’s lad some space, not that we didn’t get on mind, a right champ he is. It was you as mentioned the boy, and I just figured - friend in need, fellow fighter for the good ‘n all that - might be able to lend a hand. But if I’m not wanted, got plenty of places to be…” Spike shifted abruptly in his chair as though to move, but Giles staid him with a wave of his hand and returned to his chair sitting heavily.
“That’s hardly what I implied Spike. Indeed it seems, since Xander has taken you into his confidence already, that you may well have the ability to draw him out, just as I thought you might.” Giles paused, returned to his seat and then continued, “I must confess to being rather at a loss as to what more to do for him. It was most fortuitous that you called when you did, as I really must attend to some pressing family matters near Bristol, and intend visiting the Glastonbury Coven and our Cardiff Watchers’ Group whilst down that way. It may take a several of weeks.
“I am afraid Xander seemed decidedly reticent to accompany me, and I don’t believe languishing at length here at the coven is a particularly good option at this juncture. There is the option of returning to hospital, of course, but discussions with his doctors indicate that this may merely reinforce his current state of mind.”
Spike frowned at the last statement, “Yeah well, boy’s not an invalid. Just seems a bit lost is all. What’s wrong with the rest of the gang? I thought they’d be happy to have him tag along.”
“They have all offered, but the only sign of anything approaching interest was the suggestion that you might be willing to show him around London. I understand from our previous conversations that you have business to attend to and I thought it may be an opportunity for Xander to…”
“Play sidekick? Hardly think he’d take to that… What’s to say I wouldn’t drain him or some such? Still a vampire remember?”
“Spike, I am, that is we, at the Council, are well aware of your status as both ensouled and champion for the good as it were, though I must say it was somewhat of a shock to find you had survived final showdown causing the demise of the Wolfram and Hart LA branch. All our initial reports indicated that you fought by Angel’s side and that there were no survivors, though in retrospect it should have been unsurprising news, given your emergence after Sunnydale and apparent ability to survive all manner of misfortune both prior and post. It was only really recently we were delivered the information regarding the precise location and circumstances of Angel’s somewhat human son, and established conclusively that you had found your way to him.”
Spike was on his feet and snarling in full game face inches from Giles nose before the man even registered him moving. “You bloody well keep your mitts off the boy! Connor’s a right champion, worth ten times the lot of you, and some! He’s got smarts, and opportunities and a heart bigger than bloody Texas, and he doesn’t need your lot – or anyone else besides - dabblin’ in his affairs. You got me *Rupert*? Not now. Not ever! You. F#@%in’. Steer. Clear! Understood?!”
To his credit, Giles replied with a rather contrite, “Perfectly, thank you.”
Spike growled threateningly but then pushed back, returned to his seat, took a deep breath and shook off his vampiric features with difficulty, and pulled out his cigarettes. He extracted one, lit up without asking permission, and inhaled long and hard all the while glaring at the rather rattled man opposite. Finally the vampire seemed to calm and sat back, “Well?”
“I’m sorry? Well what?”
“What *other* little tidbits did your ‘sources’ tell you about me that you haven’t bothered to mention?”
“Well, put simply: that you were cohabiting with Connor until your recent trip; that you had somewhat of the status of popular visiting academic amongst some of Connor’s peers, or should I say, fellow students of the History department; that you have managed to keep a reasonably low profile since the fracas in LA; and that you and Connor appear to be two of the most adaptable, loyal and resilient individuals on this planet, both unique in your own right yet sharing a common vampiric family and all that entails, frankly in ways I struggle to begin to even comprehend.”
Spike relaxed a little as he realized the a few apparent, yet notable, gaps in the Watcher’s information. In particular, his ability to walk in the sun; his and Connor’s regular patrolling and sparring together; the welcome and acceptance of him by Connor’s adoptive family in the US; and his planned trip to Zurich sometime in the next month to source some long untouched Aurelian ‘investments’ still at Credit Suisse headquarters. Rather than volunteering any of that information, he chose that moment to steer the conversation back to the matter of Xander.
“Alright then… That out of the way, reckon we sort the arrangements for the whelp.”
He dropped the remainder of his cigarette deliberately into his all but empty glass and paused as thought considering his options. He had already decided to help Xander in whatever way he could, and if that meant letting to bloke tag along for a while, then well and good. After all, the boy had taken him in when he was at his lowest, albeit begrudgingly, first with the chip, then post soul, and they had been friends there at the end.
Spike had to admit seeing Xander so defeated earlier had shaken him to the core, but equally puzzling, and perhaps pleasing, was the man’s willingness to trust him with a story he had chosen not to share even with those he was closest to. He acknowledged that his inner William, his soul, was more than willing to help a friend in need, particularly one who was so obviously suffering for reasons he understood well. If Giles needed to be rid of the boy for a few weeks there was no harm in taking the boy on, particularly as he intended to do as much before he even set foot in the library.
The antique long case clock in the hallway sounded its midnight gong as if on cue. “Seems a bit late for a trip back to London. Reckon I could doss here and convince the boy of the move by tomorrow afternoon? I assume there’s room for two in that Soho place of yours?”
A wave of what could only be described as relief washed over Giles’ features and he smiled for the first time since Spike had arrived. “Yes, yes of course. I had planned to stay here, and we have a spare room set up for you on the second floor – it’s sparse but clean and has only one small north facing window to worry about. I’m sure Xander will agree to our suggestion if put in terms of the greater good of the coven, my Watcher duties, and ongoing concern for his welfare.”
Standing and gesturing toward the door and Spike’s minimal luggage, Giles added, “I’ll show you to your room shall I?”
They walked in silence to a well appointed room both caught up in similar thoughts. The Watcher quietly pleased and relieved that Spike had agreed to take on Xander, and confident that the man would be well cared for by the, for all his bluster to the contrary, tender hearted and trustworthy vampire. Spike contemplated the immediate future with Xander in tow, in truth, happy at the turn of events. He did not do well alone, that he knew. At the same time admitting to himself that he had always admired the boy’s bravery in the face of near impossible situations, and resolved that he would restore at least a little of the good humored fire in Xander’s eyes, somehow.
Spike dumped his bag just inside the door and turned to find Giles had extended his hand. He met it with his own and shook it politely rather surprised when the greying gent said, “I am glad you are here, Spike.”
Spike was about to reply but was cut off as the Watcher dropped the handshake and turned adding, “There is blood in the cooler by your bed. I expect you’ll be ready by early evening.”
Spike stared at the retreating back for a moment then closed the door.
_____________________________
PART 10
Spike slept the sleep of the extremely jetlagged, and was literally dead to the world until all that remained of daylight was the spectacular oranges, reds and pinks of early sunset. He found the bathroom three doors up from where he had slept; threw the four bags of AB-positive from the cooler into a basin of very warm water and showered for long enough have gained a decent body temperature.
He pulled on his travel clothes with a measure of distaste, but was unwilling to unpack anything until happily ensconced in the Soho flat.
Xander was already perched on what appeared to be a very battered backpack by the library door as Spike descended the stairs. He was staring at the hallway carpet runner as though it held all the answers to the universe, either that or wishing it would open up a hole into which he might disappear, regardless he failed to even acknowledge the vampire’s arrival until Spike’s boots came within his line of sight.
“Giles will be along in a minute. He said he’s just got a phonecall or two to make before we leave.” Spike would have missed the message had he not been blessed with vampire hearing, and tried unsuccessfully to gauge Xander’s mood beyond simple dejection. He stood for a moment then tilted his head to the side audibly sniffed and replied “Right then” before placing his own bag beside the ex-Scoobie and sitting on it like fashion.
They waited in companionable silence for a time, Spike focusing his attention on the library and the one-way dialogue in the various calls Giles was making. After twenty minutes or so the light in the office was switched off and the jeans clad Watcher appeared at the door laptop bag and small suitcase in hand.
“Sorry to keep you, I just had some things to tidy up before we departed. I take it you are both ready?”
Spike stood and offered a hand to Xander who looked up with surprise but accepted the assistance without comment, rising stiffly. “Right you are. Lead on ‘Jeeves’.”
Giles gave the blonde a hint of a smile before gesturing toward the front door, “The car is just around the side of the building. It’s open so you can put your luggage in the boot, I’ll just say my farewells to Mistress Carlotta I’ll be with you momentarily.”
Xander lifted his backpack and slung it over one shoulder with an “Umph”, tucked what appeared to be a rather full, soft briefcase under the other arm, took hold of the handle on Giles’ suitcase with the other, and proceeded out the front door without comment. Spike watched him go but paused before following him and whispered loud enough for only Giles to hear, “Boy OK with all this?”
“I believe so Spike. That is to say, he didn’t object to the arrangement.” Giles fished out an envelope from the back pocket of his jeans and handed it to the blonde, “Here’s all my contact details and dates of my movements… and some emergency numbers just in case…”
“Taa, ‘though I’m sure we’ll be fine. Now go say your cheerios and let’s be away. This much female white magic in one place is enough to make a bloke right twitchy.”
The trip from the coven in Surrey to the London flat was done in relative silence, at least on Xander’s part. The young man stared dispassionately out the window as the nighttime hedged laneways and fields gave way to darkened silver birch forests then more and more built up areas. Giles had the BBC 2 playing quietly on the radio, ‘easy listening’ music with intermittent chat from a perky host, certainly not Spike’s first choice, but he made no comment.
As they pulled onto the A3 merge by the edge of a large common and the traffic became heavier, Spike took out his cigarettes and lit up, winding down his window at the rather disapproving sideways glance from Giles.
“Haven’t been this way since the mid 60s, got bored of scruffy blokes in narrow ties ‘n tired trilbys, twead skirts ‘n twin sets, ‘n too many two-up-two-downs. Dru ‘n me much preferred to be in the thick of it ‘round the West End, not much changed there…” Spike trailed off as he realized that continuing that trip down memory lane led nowhere good. Instead he pointedly took a long drag on his cigarette, blew the smoke out the window and changed the subject as they approached the Thames. “What’s with the C’s on the road?”
“It’s the Congestion Charge, an attempt to discourage people from driving into the central city. We’re after 6pm so the ten pound fee doesn’t apply. I must say it has made a marked difference.” Giles went on to expound the improvements to public transport and comment on various familiar landmarks en route to their destination in Soho. Spike glanced back at Xander and caught his eye at last and, noting the slight bemusement on the young man’s face, gave him a wry smile and rolled his eyes. He was relieved to see Xander give a silent snort and the hint of a real grin before the young man switched his attention back out the window.
After winding through a number of narrow one way streets, they found themselves parked a short distance from a fairly non descript red brick four story building standing on a corner opposite a small, well manicured park.
Giles led them to the rather stylish entrance beside the shop front on the ground floor then up a set of stairs to the fourth floor landing. Opening the third door on the right, he ushered them in to an obviously recently refurbished, well appointed, living space with the customary, “Well here we are. I’m sure you’ll find everything in order.”
Xander dropped his pack in the middle of the lounge area and moved to stand and stare rather despondently through the large south-facing window, while Giles began to give Spike a brief tour of their temporary abode.
The small kitchen to the left of the entrance was well appointed, with black marble surfaces and ultra modern stainless steel appliances. Spike opened cupboards and draws at random, familiarizing himself and was surprised to note that someone had stocked the place with basic supplies to suit both new occupants. Giles caught the vampire’s look of surprise as the fridge door was eased closed, and pointed to a business card on the end of the pristine workbench.
“I wasn’t sure of your immediate plans but took the liberty of ordering you a week’s supply of… yes well I’ve left the details by the phone over there. It’s the local ‘off-license, just ask for the proprietor Sahil, he’s a nice chap and very accommodating when it comes to his more ‘unusual’ clientele.” Giles spared a glance toward Xander, who remained with his back to the room, then gestured toward the glass and pine, ‘floating’ staircase leading to the mezzanine level. “If you follow me I’ll show you to the guest rooms upstairs, I’m afraid the bedroom on this level has been rather taken over by the need for an office-come-library space, though if you prefer I can always fold out the couch in there.”
The upper level consisted of a wide sitting area with a waist high white balcony allowing a view down to the living room and giving the whole flat an airy, spacious feel. The two moderately sized bedrooms were separated by a shared bathroom and on the opposite side of the sitting area to the stairs, an upper walkway led to a glass door and open south-facing balcony, complete with seating and potted plants.
Spike took a quick peek into both bedrooms, identical but for the designs on the bedlinen, admired the ultra modern bathroom, and wandered out to the balcony followed by Giles. The view of the well-lit public park below was pleasant even at night, and the area itself seem very quiet despite being so close to restaurant, shopping and theatre precincts. He patted his pockets, pulled out his cigarettes shook one from the pack and offered it to Giles, who, to Spike’s surprise, accepted. Lighting his own then passing the silver Zippo® to Giles, he exhaled his first puff skyward and waved his hand back toward the door, “Must say, all this… seems a might high end modern for a Watcher’s digs, I would ‘ave thought.”
Giles mimicked Spikes action with his own plume of smoke, and answered after a thoughtful pause, “Yes well… strictly speaking this is, in fact, my private residence when in London. I do have other interests outside the Council, in particular, my own business matters.
“When my cousin George passed away before the final Sunnydale debacle, certain circumstances transpired and rather forced my hand regarding this property. The building itself was being updated, and as it was now mine via George’s will, it seemed both prudent and timely that I invest in the internals of the space. It is certainly far more convenient, and significantly more private than either the Coven or the Watchers’ council accommodations. I no doubt expect you will find it adequate for your purposes.” Giles concluded with a cautiously curious look in the vampire’s direction.
The blonde continued to smoke apparently lost in thought, but eventually butted out the cigarette in the dirt surrounding the nearest potted palm and answered the implied question. “Pretty sure the whelp ‘n meself‘ll do just fine here. Appreciated the offer when you first said it a month or so back, ‘n nothin’s changed with that. Reckon I’ll get done what needs doin’ and wing the rest. ‘N don’t you go frettin’, any sign of real trouble - I’ll have the boy to safety in a flash, with you the first to know - Cliff notes ‘n the works.”
As Giles reached down to put out his cigarette in the same pot as Spikes, his only reply was, “Yes, of course… Perhaps we should see to Xander now. I really must be off soon if I’m to reach Bristol before midnight.”
The Watcher departed after several reassurances regards Xander’s state of ease and promises of regular contact; a manly, if a little awkward, hug with the brunette; and a handshake and nod of understanding between he and the boy’s vampire carer.
As soon as the front door closed, Spike marched over to the forgotten luggage, picked up Xander’s pack and shoved it into his arms. “Right you go get yourself sorted upstairs – pick either room, ‘m not fussed. I’ll be down here rustling us up a snack.” He pushed Xander toward the stairs and turned his attention to the kitchen, pulling open the fridge to retrieve two beers, a couple of bags of blood and loaf bread. Pulling some pristine white crockery from the cupboard he yelled, “Hope you’re partial to toast and tomato soup, we’ll go for a real shop tomorrow.”
By the time Xander came down, the television was on and supper was waiting on the coffee table. Though little was said until they bade each other goodnight, there was a gradual but noticeable easing of tension between the two, and both males retired to their rooms around midnight, decidedly happier than when they had arrived.
Xander slept solidly until the call of nature permeated a rather scrambled forgettable dream. He woke rather disorientated, not helped by the battery of unfamiliar smells, city traffic noises and a very white bedroom ceiling.
Untangling from the sheets took a moment or two, remembering where he was and the way to the bathroom took a little longer, though he did manage to pick up some fresh boxers and his toiletries bag en route. His morning ablutions were completed at a leisurely pace with a deliberate effort to plan some quiet indoor activities for the day, in essence, time browsing online to familiarize himself with the Soho area and possibly beyond. At least, as much as was possible without actually venturing out, or most particularly, confronting the new environment solo.
He wasn’t fearful exactly and at least here he had a decent rationale. Spike was here with him and wouldn’t appreciate him wandering off alone on their first day in London; it was already late morning so by the time he ate and settled there would only be a few hours until the vampire woke; he could sit on the balcony later as it would be bathed in sunshine for most of the afternoon, assuming the weather held; and he was just a bit unsure of… well... anyway… Staying in? Definitely of the good and he proceeded to do just that.
Brunch consisting of toast with butter and jam, accompanied by two fresh bananas, his medications and an enormous mug of good filter coffee, was taken in front of a rather none descript morning chat show on the television. True to his initial plan, he followed up with some rather random online browsing and another coffee before venturing up and out onto the balcony. Settling in for what was to be a few hours, he rearranged outdoor chairs and table until his body was stretched in the sun, feet up, and everything else he might need (novel, laptop, sunscreen, water bottle and bowl of crisps) was within easy reach.
Spike woke around two in the afternoon, but remained in bed for a few long minutes worrying a little about the inevitable revealing of his now sun proof state to Xander. After a minor internal debate, long hot shower and liquid breakfast, he decided on the ‘no wait - no fuss’ approach.
Seconds later, sunscreen and dark glasses applied, and book (chosen at random from Giles’ collection) in hand, he wandered up the stairs and out to join his old friend in the sun.
Xander was dozing seated with feet up on another chair and his face pointed directly at our Lady Sun. He didn’t notice Spike’s presence beside him at first, but clearly heard the whispered, “Need to tell you a secret, pet. Might be only one of many you’ll know soon enough, but this is important. Can you spare a moment for a mate here?”
Spike steeled himself and waited as Xander blinked his good eye open.
________________________________________________________
PART 11
Spike had figured on some measure of shock from the brunette, but was hardly prepared for the scream and lightening fast act of lying prone to a full body tackle that collected him around the waist and flung him back through the balcony door and into the shade. Spike landed on his back with an oomph, sunglasses and book lost in the fall, and Harris sprawled on top of him.
"Bloody Hell Pet!" He was about to say more, but Xander's hands began frantically, and none too gently, patting him down anywhere he could reach, accompanied by an almost sobbing "No! No… Oh Ghod, no, no, no! Not this… Not him! No, no, no, Ghod! Not now! Not burnt… burning! Not for me, for us… Wasn't quick enough… no, no no…"
Spike, after but moments, managed to gather his wits and halt the desperate man by pulling him down fully and, despite further struggles, stilled him by wrapping all four limbs around the squirming figure in the parody of a wrestling move. He held on tight and on instinct, began a low rumbling purr, with intermittent baritone, "It's OK Xan. Everything's OK… Calm down pet, I'm OK…"
Long minutes later he felt the surrender of the body above him and smelled salty tears. He released their legs and arms, placed his hands on the shaking, rather too slim, shoulders and slowly pushed Xander up until the man was sitting on his thighs, head still bowed and body shaking slightly. Spike waited until he heard the heart rate settle further, then ventured a hand under the boy's chin and tilted it up until Xander could do aught but meet his eyes with a pained rather disbelieving stare.
Spike cautiously watched as disbelief gave way to wonder and relief, quickly followed by embarrassment and a measure of indignant anger when Xander finally realised he was, in fact, sitting on the vampire. At that point the vampire smiled a little, and softly ventured, "You right now, luv?"
Xander stood with what little dignity he could muster and backed to the safety of the wall, fists balled as though to defend himself. Spike rose also, and made a point of brushing himself down, "Right, well… p'raps we can take this outside and I'll try to explain, OK luv? No bursting into flames for me, an' no rugby tackles on your part - not that it wasn't appreciated, pet." In any other circumstance Spike would have tried for levity but recognised knife edge control when he saw it, so simply walked back out to the balcony, lit a cigarette and sat down.
Xander remained for a moment then followed, sitting heavily and staring at Spike *in the sun* and working hard to make his hands (and whole body for that matter) relax. Not knowing what exactly to say he settled on "Sorry", then proceeded to look down and pick nervously at the cover on his chair.
The blonde exhaled heavily and leaned forward a little, "'s me who should apologise, pet. Should 'a known to give a bloke fair warning before sprinin' that on you, but nice moves by the way - sentiment appreciated, ever the White Hat you."
"But you're still a vampire! Why? How? When?…"
"All fine questions, luv. Not sure as I'll have the answers, but reckon I'll try."
"But blood, and stake through the heart, and the…"
"All still the same mate. Just got me the sun is all I know for now. Least that's all little brother an' I 've been able to suss out."
"Wait… little brother?? What?! … but Giles didn't…"
Spike finished the sentence for him, "… Say anything. Would have thought as much. Not really much on the sharing that one. And before you ask, he doesn't know about this, the sun I mean, nor a lot of the backstory, and I'm trusting you to stay schtum yeah?" He looked at Xander hard, trying to assess the boy's willingness to keep more than a few of his secrets, without that as a premise his kernel of a plan for the next few weeks, or longer with luck, simply could not proceed.
Getting no reply but somehow satisfied by the look of surprise he received he flicked his spent cigarette but over the balcony, and made a move for the door, pausing at Xander's, "Wait! Where are you going?"
"Don't fret, luv. Kitchen. Beer. Back here in a jiffy for a tell all. Alright?"
True to his word, Spike returned with a six pack of beer in under a minute, handed one to Xander and settled into the chair opposite with his own. "Right then, tell me the bits you know and I'll try to fill in the gaps, yeah?"
The discussion lasted most of the afternoon, Spike learning more details of Xander's time after Sunnydale, his rationale for seeking out the Watchers' Council, and brief log of his experiences since. Spike for his part, gave Xander an overview of his own history for the same timeframe, pausing to answer questions as gaps in Xander's knowledge became apparent. By the time the beer was consumed and the shadows lengthened, both men were 'talked out', not everything revealed of course, but it was a start.
They finally fell into a companionable silence, deep in their own thoughts, Spike smoking his last cigarette and Xander picking off the label of his third beer.
Eventually it was apparent to both that there was a chill in the air and it was time to move. "C'mon Harris. Need to move ourselves. Run out of fags for one thing, 'n figure we could go for a bit of a wander, see what we can spy around here."
He heard Xander's heart rate pick up at that, but there was no sign of distress in the man's face, rather it seemed they were both keen to stretch their legs at least once for the day. "Right then. I need some proper kit on if we're walkin', meet you downstairs in five."
Spike was barely inside his bedroom door as he stripped off his black T-shirt and tossed it toward the unmade double bed. What little clothing he had brought with him was neatly hung or folded in the floor to ceiling wardrobe, including his ever present, beloved black duster. His hand brushed the soft leather lovingly but he left it on the hanger, instead pulling out a short, stylish biker-style jacket, his tight black, near new Ramones T-shirt and belt with a matching silver buckle. The latter two items making him smile fondly. They had been gifts from Connor’s adoptive sisters on his ‘birthday’, a date he had divulged after much cajoling on the part of the youngest Becky.
The pretty brunette reminded him so much of Dawn with her intelligence, enthusiasm for life and giggly ‘William worship’, as Connor described it. The older sister Pippa was far quieter, a gifted painter, who frequently rolled her eyes at her younger sibling’s antics in the presence of Connor’s friend William. She was the spitting image of her mother, slim and attractive with long soft auburn curls and particularly gentle smile reserved for those she was close to, of which William was one. He and Connor were both fiercely protective of the pair, and the girls made it plain that they adored Connor *and* William in return.
Spike smiled at his thoughts of Connor’s family, his by proxy, and finished dressing. He ran his fingers through his rather unruly hair. It was two-tone as he had not bothered to bleach it for some time, but his natural blonde and longer fringe gave the overall impression of being stylishly rakish. A pair of very dark, wire rimmed, round designer sunglasses completed the ensemble (dually serving as protection for his light sensitive vampire eyes and the measure of anonymity he still desired). He patted down his pockets, sprayed on some expensive aftershave (another gift) and descended the stairs whilst fitting a solid silver earing and adjusting the thick chain around his neck.
He was met by a quiet “Geez!” of surprised approval from his flat mate standing at the kitchen counter, but chose to ignore it, filing the definite smell of unsolicited, mild arousal for consideration later. Instead he commented casually, “See you’re ready then. Got a coat? No telling how the night will turn out weather wise.”
They exited the building, Spike noting with some pleasure, the decided spring in Xander’s steps as they made their way through the small well-manicured Soho Square they could see from their balcony. “You seem a might cheerier mate.”
Xander frowned a little at the comment then shrugged, “It’s just good to be outside I guess.”
“That it is. You got anywhere you want to be in particular.”
“Um, not really. But I kind of looked up where we are online, and I thought we could maybe just walk for a bit. You know, find where things are. If…well… if that’s OK with you.”
“Right you are then. Lead on McDuff.”
The streets were bustling with people, some obviously on their way home from work, others window shopping, while tourists seemed deliberately out to frustrate the locals by happily stopping mid footpath to snap ‘selfie’ photos in front of anything vaguely ‘Londonesque’ with the camera on their phones. Spike didn’t react for the most part, but drew the line and almost growled when a young group of giggling school girls somehow decided he was a celebrity of some sort, then followed he and Xander for almost a block.
They were eventually stopped together at a level crossing, and to Spike’s horror, and Xander’s look of genuine amusement followed by wicked commentary of, “Come on Will, it’s not paparazzi at least”, his fate was sealed. Photo with the blonde ‘celeb’ taken, the girls were off, leaving a bemused Xander with the vampire muttering promises of dire retribution to be dealt the brunette sometime in the future.
With the sun well and truly set, Spike deliberately steered Xander away from the fast food chain stores on the major thoroughfares and wandered down a number of back streets where finally, and to Xander’s joy, they discovered a small, obviously extremely popular shop and café specializing in all things chocolate. The brunette was all but salivating at the delicacies in the window, and nearly missed the fact that his companion had already gone inside to ask for a table.
Some hour or so later, Spike was left wondering how on earth one individual could consume quite so much at one sitting and still manage to spend twenty or so pounds on “chocolatie goodness” for later, although he had to confess to having had two enormous hot chocolate beverages with ‘the lot’. The first was (he claimed) to compare it to Joyce Summers’ homemade cocoa, and the second, allegedly to confirm his assessment of the first.
It was almost ten and the retail sector winding up as they began to wind their way home. Shoppers gave way to restaurant and bar clientele, and random groups of people threading their way toward various theatres in the area. Spike grumbled that he felt like he was taking a puppy for a walk as Xander, still on a bit of a sugar/cocoa/caffeine high, all but bounced along beside him looking every which way but where he was walking. Twice the vampire had to stop him from stepping out in front of a moving vehicle, the second time by grabbing the boy around the waist and physically spinning him back onto the footpath. Xander didn’t seem to mind the contact, and was in such good spirits that he simply slapped the blonde lightly on the back and thanked him then kept on walking.
Close to home, Spike recognized the name of the street Giles had written as his supplier of ‘the good stuff’. “Think we could swing by that off license down there pet? I reckon it’s on our way back and I could murder a drink.”
Xander only half heard the last part and before properly processing the statement, stopped dead in his tracks. Surely Spike was not back to drinking humans, or worse, killing them for their blood. Giles would have said something wouldn’t he? Or Spike would have let on earlier. His eyes went wide and mouth hung open as Spike went into game face momentarily and grinned. He could barely see the frightening visage before it was gone again, and belatedly realized that Spike was simply sniffing the air before moving again.
Spike had taken a couple more strides then turned back to see what on earth had distracted the boy this time. Xander looked pale and Spike heard the escalating heart rate and breathing, and smelled abject fear emanating from the man. He immediately thought there was some as yet unseen threat the boy, his vampire visage came to the fore ready to defend the boy from some unknown foe, but quickly ascertained the problem when Xander spoke.
“You… you wouldn’t! I mean you don’t… do you? You know… I thought with the bags and…” Xander was staring at him, on edge, frightened. Spike then realized how the previous statement may have sounded if the boy really had no idea regards his feeding habits post Sunnydale. He moved closer to the boy, venturing a cautious hand out and placing it gently on Xander’s shoulder, forcing the brunette to meet sincere crystal blue eyes that begged understanding and calm.
“Come on Xan… I said murder A drink - as in ‘really want a beer’, not take a human life. Bloody hell pet, haven’t munched on the locals since you that wanker Nikki’s boy fixed the First’s trigger in Sunnydale. Boss Watcher really has kept you out of the loop. Just meant we should pick up some booze is all… Come on Pet…” He dropped his hand satisfied that Xander believed him, or at least, was trying to, and let out a breath he didn’t realize he was holding. He turned to walk on again and Xander fell into step beside him.
They walked to the next intersection in silence, Spike noticing with some relief that Xander had noticeably relaxed, in fact had a hint of a smile on his face. “So you don’t think I’m a ‘nummy treat’ anymore then?”
Spike snorted his own wry amusement at remembering the circumstances of that comment, replying “Nah… not in that sense anyway.” He was about to try for a ‘come hither’ leer but at that exact moment a truck backfired loudly nearby, very nearby.
Instantly any of Xander’s restored good humor was replaced by the sense of cold, all too familiar dread as his memories of firefights and death flooded in. He instinctively flung himself forward onto the ground, collecting Spike en route. They collided with an unfortunately placed lamppost in the process and landed in a tangled heap on the pavement.
Spike was so shocked at the reaction that he was unsure of what to do next, but swiftly scanned the area for anything sinister using every enhanced sense he could engage. Nothing found, he shook off his fangs and game face that had emerged in natural response, just as a group of three couples rounded the corner. Spike extracted himself from the tumbled tangle and pushed himself to his feet to crouch beside Xander’s prone figure as an older gentleman at the front of the group rushed forward to assist.
Ignoring the audience, Spike put a cautious hand on Xander’s arm resulting in a flurry of movement and the ex Scoobie near crab-walking backwards as fast as he could until his back hit the nearest shop front where he remained in a seated ball with arms protecting his head.
Misinterpreting the scene the older gent assumed some sort of altercation, but nevertheless kept moving. He only halted when he saw the worry in the young blonde man’s face and heard, “It’s OK Xan… Nothing’s gonna hurt you… it’s OK.”
Spike saw the movement in his peripheral vision, and spared the man a glance, only taking his eyes from Xander for long enough to meet the good citizen’s squarely, putting a hand out to halt him. “Sir, please! My friend was just… He thought it a gun shot… I…”, satisfied the advancing figure had stopped, he turned his attention back to the terrified, crouching figure. “Come on Xan, it’s me. We’re fine… You’re OK… It’s safe…”
Now surrounded by the others in the group, Spike kept his focus on Xander whilst trying to placate the obvious concern of the crowd, fielding questions as best he could, in particular from the older man who was now on one knee beside him. “Do you need an ambulance?”
“No! Boy’s just… Xan… Xan! C’mon… look at me… Listen people just back up a bit, yeah? Xan you’re OK.”
Xander did not move again, but did allow Spike to ease his hands from where they were held tight to his hair, though his head still remained firmly between his knees. He smelled blood and quickly assessed the damage, noting a steady drip of red from a cut on the forehead and nose flowing onto Xander’s shirt.
The man spoke again, this time putting a kind hand on Spike’s shoulder, “If you’ll allow, I’m more than happy to help your friend… is there something I can do? I’m Dr Jonothan Pierce, physician.”
Spike noted the genuine concern in the man’s voice and willed himself to calm before supplying further information, not releasing his firm hold on Xander’s hands, or taking his attention from his comrade. “Boy’s just panicked is all. Heard the truck, thought it was gunfire I reckon. Too bloody long on active duty. Thought we were under fire. Come on Xan, that’s it, look at me, hey? Let’s see that pretty face o’ yours, c’mon Xan…”
The kindly doctor shook his head a little muttering, “Another casualty of our blasted foreign involvement,” then more loudly to Spike, “So this has happened before. Is there perhaps someone specific we should call?”
Spike could hear Xander’s heart beginning to return to its normal pace and breathing even out. “No, I think the worst is over. That’s it Xan… can you look at me now? Just a peep so’se I can see where you’re hurt… That’s it just a look. Nice doc here to help too.”
Bewildered, frightened chocolate eye finally lifted to meet concerned azure blue pair. His eye patch had swung askew in the fall and blood was streaked down his face, Spike noting a cut and swelling lip in addition to other injuries. Apparently the missing eye confirmed Xander’s status as returned young soldier to the rest of the group as several “Oh dear” and “Oh my lord”s were expressed. One of the elegantly dressed ladies reached forward and handed her husband (?) a purse sized pack of tissues, “Here Jon, it’s all I have I’m afraid, but it might help.”
Several minutes later and with Spike still holding Xander’s hands, the blood flow was stemmed with careful efficiency and the doctor stood with a slight groan. The vampire finally released his charge, patted his shoulder but left him seated and rose also. His well-practiced rough speech was gone as he offered the doctor his hand, “Thank you, sir, for stopping. Few would not have, I wager.” Spike offered a rather bloodied hand out to shake that of Dr Pierce.
“Not at all. Not at all. Can we offer you a lift anywhere? I still think your friend may be in need to be looked… ah…” Spike realized he had not identified himself and true to his proper Victorian manners, “So sorry, William, William ah... Aurelius at your service. My friend here is Alexander Harris. And we are most grateful for your offer, but we are only a block or two from our lodgings, so it’s probably best we make our way there. I’m sure we’ll be fine.” Spike noted the slight frown on the man’s face so sought to placate the concern, “Rest assured, Dr Pierce, I’ll have him looked at. I have his regular doctor’s number at home.”
“Indeed, well, here is my card should you need anything. My rooms are in Mayfair and there are a number of well known specialists in the same building.”
Crisis averted and their ‘rescuers’ satisfied, Spike watched as the group continued on its way still audibly discussing the sad plight of returned soldiers past and present, and congratulating themselves for stopping to assist. He waited until they turned the next corner and disappeared before squatting down again and gently stroking Xander’s now matted fringe back from the injured forehead. “You OK to get up now pet? Reckon you can stand?”
Finally Xander responded, his voice rather rough, and looking at once grateful and more than a little embarrassed, “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” Attempting to struggle up, he accepted Spike’s hand and leaned on him heavily as they stood, “I just… can we just stay here for a moment, I think my foot’s gone to sleep.”
Spike did not let go of Xander’s hand as the two again made their way toward the off-license that was, happily, located only minutes from home.
As they made to enter the shop, Xander paused causing Spike to come to a halt also. “Problem luv?”
“No… I just… my shirt’s kind of bloody and… you know…”
“It’ll be fine pet. Anyone asks we’ll tell ‘em the other bloke looked far worse.” At that Xander finally grinned, then grimaced as his injured lip protested.
The shop was empty but for a single attendant seated behind an over full counter, where a late night football was playing on a tiny television. When the man failed to acknowledge their presence, Spike pulled Xander behind him and addressed him directly. “S’cuse us mate, we were told to ask for Sahil. Name’s Spike, erm, William Aurelius? Come for a special delivery, Rupert Giles’ the watcher…”
The reaction was instant, and excited, as the man leapt to his feet and raced around the counter, “Master William!! William the Bloody!! You are back!”
__________________________________
Chapter 12
The young man halted in his flight “My grandmother spoke so fondly of you. When Mr Giles placed an order and said it was for you! Well, we could hardly believe it! It is truly an honor sir!” Spike must have looked a little stunned, but was happy to have placed Xander behind him. Particularly when the individual’s eyes changed to reveal the vertical slits of a reptile and his form shimmered once into his true form (that of a rather strange looking chameleon on two legs, sans tail) and back again to human.
Spotting Xander behind the vampire, Sahil slid gracefully to his knees in front of the Master vampire, “I am profusely sorry Master Spike. I did not know you were with companion. If it please you, how might I address him?”
Shaking off his shock at being treated with such deference, Spike replied rather formally, “This is Alexander Harris, ex-Watcher, fighter for good, former fiancé of the sadly departed Anyanka and original Scoobie of Sunnydale. Gave me care and lodgings when I needed it most, and fought by my side.” Spike tugged at Xander’s sleeve pulling him to stand at his shoulder.
Sahil bowed his head as the Scoobie came into full view, “Welcome Alexander Harris…” then raised his chin to look at Spike with concern. “Master, your companion is bleeding! What fiend dared touch what is yours in our neighborhood?”
Spike was tempted to create some grand story for Xander’s benefit, but thought better of it. “Boy here just had a bit of an altercation with a lamp post and the ground is all, not used to the terrain n’ cobbled culverts can be a right bitch in the dark. Listen Sahil, as I’ll be by more often than not for the few weeks, we’ll keep this visit short alright? Just want to pick up my order and some bits and bobs, and booze, and we’ll be on our way.”
“Of course, Master William. If you would like to help yourself, Mr Giles has left instructions that all purchases be put on his account. I will just fetch your order from the back.” Sahil made an effort to knee-shuffle backwards before standing and hurrying to a small door at the rear of the shop, ducking inside shouting back, “Back momentarily, Master Spike.”
Spike turned to Xander as soon as Sahil was out of sight, shrugged and handed Xander a hand basket from near the counter. “C’mon, you heard the man. Watcher’s payin’ so pick yourself up what you need food-wise and I’ll sort the drinks. Not havin’ you go wastin’ away on my watch… And pick up some dressings and painkillers if they’ve got ‘em here, should find the basics at least.”
In the end they were rather loaded up – both carrying bulging shopping bags in each hand. Spike thanked the young demon, agreeing to arrange to meet the boy’s grandmother ‘anon’, then ushered Xander toward the door saying “Off we go mate, let’s get this lot home and you seen to.”
Sahil was on his mobile phone within moments of the two leaving. He updated his Facebook page, gushing enthusiastically that Master William the Bloody and his Mate (for that is what he heard the vampire call Alexander as they were leaving) were in town and had shopped at his establishment. He also promised to provide photographic proof the very next time they paid a visit.
Unbeknownst to Spike and Xander, the news that the Aurelian Master William was back in London and had taken a human Mate, spread like wildfire.
Xander and Spike entered the darkened flat in comfortable silence. Down lights and lamps were switched on and food put away in quick order, before Xander was quietly instructed to have a shower. “You’re a right mess, pet. Get yourself washed off and I’ll come up to give you a hand with your injuries in a tick. Just give us a yell when you’re ready, and toss the T-shirt, yeah? Unless it’s got some sentimental value, I reckon we can find a replacement or two tomorrow. You need to borrow one of mine?”
Xander looked up at the last sentence, “What? No, no it’s OK… I… I’ve got a couple of extras.”
“Right, well you go do and I’ll fix us some supper in the meantime and see if there’s anythin’ worth a look on the box.” And when Xander didn’t move for another few seconds, Spike shooed him upstairs with a “Come on then… hop to!”
As instructed, Xander’s bloodied T-shirt was tossed toward the bin, and he noted his jeans would need a cold wash as he stripped before diving into the warm spray. He luxuriated under the faucet of the ultra modern shower, adjusting the water pressure and temperature when it came to his injured face. It really did hurt and he had yet to examine the damage in the mirror.
He had barely toweled off and was still tugging on fresh clothing when there was a soft tap on the door. “You alright in there Harris?”
“Yeah, just…” He pulled the sweat pants over his hips and tugged the door open to be greeted by a concerned looking blonde bearing dressings, scissors and the bottle of disinfectant they had purchased from the off license.
“Thought you might have drowned or sommat… Took your time of it.” The grumbled protest was without malice as Spike took in the damp mop of brown hair and smell of freshly washed human. The boy was still bare chested and though a mite too slim in Spike’s opinion, there was still a hint of a tan earned in the harshness of Africa and rejuvenated by a day in the sun on the patio. The vampire resisted the sudden urge to voice his admiration, instead pointed to the closed toilet and added, “Take a seat and let me take a look at the damage.”
Xander sat passively as Spike’s cool smooth hands gentled away the hair that flopped over his missing eye, inspected the grazed and bruised cheek and cut on his forehead on that side, gingerly dabbed disinfectant on the injuries, and added a dressing to the worst of the damage. Learned, feather light fingers mapped the edges of the eye socket and cheekbone, then the bridge of his nose was similarly touched before Spike seemed satisfied and straightened up. “Doesn’t look like anythin’s broken bone-wise. Reckon you’ll still have a decent shiner on that side though. Might be an idea leave the patch off for a few days… prob’ly best put a bigger dressing over it when we go out ‘n about.”
Xander looked a little surprised at the last statement, “So… you’re OK if we go out again? I just thought…”
“Thought what? Just ‘cause you decide to inspect the pavement up close n’ personal, don’t mean we’re gonna sit around cooped up here for the duration. Bloody well seen you bounce off more ‘n one lamp post before haven’t I, just need to give a bloke some warnin’ in future afore you decide on an impromptu cuddle on the cobbles.” Xander looked up to see a hint of mirth in the sparkling depths of Spike’s blue eyes and grinned then wished he hadn’t, “Owww! Jeez Spike, no fair to make me laugh! Geez.”
Spike looked unrepentant, in truth a little more than relieved at the outburst. “Alright then.” He held out his hand and pulled Xander to his feet. The man wincing a little at the action, “You hurt anywhere else?”
“Just a bruised hip, and my elbow a bit, I guess.” The brunette rubbing his tender arm then jumping a little as Spike moved forward apparently aiming for the waistband of his pants. “You want I take a look?”
Xander grabbed the elastic proprietarily and yelped, “Ach! No Spike. No looking at the… I haven’t even got any boxers on!”
Spike wiggled an eyebrow, but pulled his hand back with a chuckle, “That right? Well can’t have me comprimisin’ your dignity then can we. Come on. Beer’s gettin’ warm an’ supper’s waitin’.”
That settled, the two headed for the lounge room where, as promised, a modest repast was on the occasional table in front of the television.
Around midnight Xander yawned followed by a slightly pained “ouch”, and took himself to bed, leaving Spike to reflect on the day and give thought to his plans for the immediate future. Minutes later he picked up the detritus from the evening, dropped empty bottles in the garbage and plates in the sink, and heated another bag of blood. Drinking it without bothering to put it into a cup, he squashed the empty plastic into the bin, then turned off the lights and wandered upstairs out to the balcony for a quiet smoke where he continued to contemplate the day’s events.
A few things were obvious. Harris was still in a rather fragile state, his own near healed bruises from the sun drenched tackle early on and the collision with the lamppost later in the evening were evidence of that, but there had definitely been glimpses of the good natured Scoobie of old since their arrival in London. There was definitely room for improvement but it did augur well for a meaningful recovery.
There were a few things notable about the day that could certainly be considered positive. Their quiet, heartfelt afternoon sharing of their immediate histories had been relaxing; Xander’s unbidden yet obvious arousal when they were about to depart for their walk; Xander’s enthusiasm for window shopping and obvious enjoyment of dinner at the café (kilo of chocolate for ‘after’ notwithstanding); and the comfortable obviously relaxed evening in front of the television after their day. Yes, there was definitely hope for the boy’s state of mind, and some for the rather lovely body of his. Well, a vampire could dream, at least a little.
Spike smiled ruefully as he reflected. He had nearly always been one to ‘bounce back’ when life, or in his case, unlife served up the quintessential ‘curve ball’, but also recognized that some things were hard to get past: his sheltered life before becoming a vampire; his dear mother’s death at his own hand; Angelus’ cruelty and love then Angelus’ sudden disappearance; his devotion to Dru – the good times and bad; the torture of the chip and enforced change; the soul and all the pain of his past sins that engendered; the First, burning up and his time as ghost; then Fred’s demise and loss of the others that night; his very real grief at the loss of Angel; and his rescue by Connor, his vampire half brother. All of it informed his actions now, the determination to help the man now sleeping under the same roof. A young human who had hated and taunted, then tolerated and helped, then downright befriended him before the fiery end of Sunnydale.
His own survival through adversity, he had to admit, was miraculous to say the least, not just to be dismissed as some stroke of fate or natural instinct. Spike knew at his core it was some innate ability to adapt, to accept his fate (albeit sometimes dragged kicking and screaming to that point) and to move on.
He blew the cigarette smoke skyward and stared at the one twinkling star visible, its stalwart refusal to be masked by city lights or smog or the cloud rolling by. The poet, that was William, reflecting on the aptness of the natural metaphor. He needed to coax the inner energy, the light, that same determination to embrace life, out from under the cloud of dark memories that served to blacken Xander’s spirit - a spirit that was still there, battered but not broken, his life worthy of a good future and happiness.
Stubbing his cigarette out, he turned toward the door and let himself back inside, mentally listed off his original reasons for returning to his birthplace after so many years, pre learning of Xander’s predicament. He noted that his personal tasks could all be addressed with the man tagging along, indeed it was likely to be much more interesting with a companion in tow. Granted he was taking on a wounded ‘demon magnet’ with a short and checkered history, and they had hardly been best mates but he felt he owed the boy at least a few good new memories and who better to make them with…
He forewent a long soak in the oversized bath in favor of a scrub down in the hot shower then tumbled into bed, asleep in seconds. Literally, dead to the world.
The next day Spike woke around midday to find Xander lounging in the sun just as he was the previous morning. This time however, he was greeted with a casual “Hi Spike, sleep well?” and a smile, rather than the panicked tackle and drama of twenty-four hours earlier.
After exchanging pleasantries, Spike excused himself and went down to fix himself a liquid breakfast. He was rather surprised to find Xander had followed him, and was sitting on the bottom stair with a look of eager anticipation as he turned from emptying then washing his mug. “What?”
“Oh, nothing. Well, kind of something…”
“Look if you’re wondering about the blood, I’ve already told you, Giles wouldn’t supply anything if it wasn’t donated all legit like.”
“No, it’s nothing like that. I just kind of wondered…” Spike looked hard at the boy. He certainly had an obvious cut on his lip, decent bruise on his cheek and black coloring surrounding the gauze under his rather loose eye patch, and there was a decent patch of purple on his exposed shoulder on that side, but other than that he seemed fine. In fact under Spike’s scrutiny he smiled just a little, then turned a pretty shade of pink as though rather bashful and hiding something.
“All right I’ll take the bait. You were wonderin’ what?”
The brunette looked first at his hands and then at Spike again, and took a deep breath, “I was wondering if you would take me sightseeing, you know while things are all open ‘cause I really haven’t been in and around London, and I downloaded and printed a whole bunch of walks from the London for free website that we could choose from. And I figured that all the good stuff you probably know, and I don’t mind if we go wherever you want because you obviously know London, well at least up until you were here last but it can’t be that different. And some stuff will cost a bit but we can you know just look from the outside at least. And since it’s a nice day and now that you can walk in the sun, I just thought…” Finally he had to pause to take a breath, so Spike jumped in.
“Good well that’s settled. Seems like a plan – you going to get some strides on, or are you goin’ in the bathing suit?”
Xander was still trying to think of the next batch of convincing arguments when he belatedly realized that Spike had said yes. “Oh… Great! I’ll just um…” He pointed toward his bedroom.
Spike chuckled, “Yeah mate, you do that. See you back down here in ten.”
The following five hours were spent following a map of ‘the Royal Walk’ that took in everything from Buckingham Palace (their first stop) to Big Ben and Westminster Abbey with a side trip or two at Spike’s insistence, including a stop at an intimate old pub for a very late lunch. Xander took all the requisite tourist photos on his phone camera with Spike flat refusing to pose with a palace guard, and was scowling in at least three of the other few pictures Xander managed to catch him in.
They bought some rather good Chinese takeout close to home and finished the night without incident.
The next day Xander convinced Spike to join him on a double decker bus tour, though Spike drew the line at paying for twenty four hour tickets, and as they dragged their tired selves back home around 10pm that night, Xander had to agree it would have been a waste. But the brunette was genuinely enjoying himself it seemed, Spike being the recipient of increasingly more frequent open smiles and relaxed banter. There remained a noticeable tentativeness in Xander’s actions. He was constantly vigilant regarding Spike’s whereabouts, unwilling to venture out of sight for more than a few moments. But it was early days.
Their only hiccup on their bus trip day occurred when they wandered by the off-license to pick up Spike’s ‘red stuff’ en route home. Sahil waved to them and indicated that he would deal with the only other customer in the mini mart first. That done, he repeated the kneeling behavior of the first time they met, then prostrated himself fully as he begged to take a photo of the three of them together. A very embarrassed Xander convinced an extremely annoyed Spike that it was probably going to be quicker to simply do the photo than argue the point. With Sahil on the ground, Spike wasn’t going to get his blood anyway, so finally agreed to one in game face.
Xander almost fell over when Sahil’s glamor dropped and the human reverted to his half reptilian form, encouraging Spike to display his game face as they crowded in to a close up, Xander held firmly against Spike separating him from Sahil. The demon then took a second shot of just Spike and Xander, this time in all-human guise and with Spike’s arm around Xander’s waist pulling him close at Sahil’s insistence.
Thanks to a small group of customers entering the shop, the photo shoot was cut short, Spike’s package collected and hasty exit made.
---------------
Late on their fourth morning in London, Spike was woken by a loud knocking on the door to downstairs followed by Xander’s hurried footsteps on the landing and down the stairs. He rose quicker than he would have liked, pulled on his black jeans from the night before and followed as swiftly as he could, worried that there was some problem or possible threat. Instead he was greeted by a rather astonished, shirtless Xander almost hidden by an enormous flower arrangement in an equally proportioned colored glass vase, attempting to close the door with one elbow.
“What’s all this then? Got an admirer you’ve forgotten to mention mate?”
“What? No? I dunno. But the guy said it was the right address.”
“Well put it down somewhere. It’s bound to have a card. Probably Red wishin’ you a happy holiday or some such.”
Xander moved to the sideboard in the lounge and carefully placed the massive bouquet in front of a piece of sand colored, non-descript abstract sculpture. There must have been at least fifty long stemmed deep red roses, as many again in chrysanthemums, twisted thin black pieces of a vine of some description and what looked like blackened rushes poking out, all artistically arranged against a backdrop of huge fanned palm leaves. The vase itself was heavy black blown glass adorned with thick red what looked like drips running down, obviously added whilst the piece was still hot. In all the effect was quite magnificent, reached half way up the wall and certainly a striking addition to the otherwise rather neutral décor.
They both stood back for a moment and admired before Xander voiced the question for both of them. “Geez, I really don’t think Willow would have done this, do you?”
“No tellin’ with that one. Just so long as it doesn’t go poof and turn into sommit nasty is my thinkin’. The card’s stuck to the side there.”
Xander reached under the lowest blooms and tugged the little envelope free, handing it to Spike. “Be a pal an’ read it for us pet. Left my glasses upstairs.” Xander looked quizzically at Spike, but chose not to question the comment.
He tugged the elegant gilt edged card free, noting the fine penmanship as he read, “ ‘To Master William and Consort Alexander, Welcome back to London, With Congratulations and Deepest Affection Always, Lady Regina and Family.’ What the hell, Spike? Who’s Lady Regina and how does she know me?!”
“Well how ’m I s’posed to know you git?! Only one I know as goes by that name was… S@#t… That little loose-tongued half-breed from the shop must’ve… I’ll tear ‘im a new one!” Spike was in game face and growling, eyes flashing gold as he flew upstairs intent upon dressing as fast as possible then carrying out his threat. Xander raced up behind him and blocked the bedroom doorway.
“Spike… *Spike*!!! Calm down! You can’t just assume that it was Sah-whatever-his-name-is! It could have been Giles or Andrew or even Willow or, I don’t know… Just stop for a minute will you! Stop and talk to me! *Spike*!” Xander threw caution to the wind and grabbed the vampire’s shoulders shoving him backwards with all his might. Spike’s knees collided with the bed and he sat with a thump, one boot only half on. Surprised human features instantly replaced ridges and fangs, “Have a care Harris, nearly had me arse over teakettle!”
Xander stood in front of him hands on his hips and stared down. “Well? You were going to do something stupid, violent, weren’t you! Just talk to me and maybe we can work this out. We’ll ring Giles and see who else he’s told, and I can check my emails and things – maybe you can too, and you know, figure out who might know you are here – apart from that guy in the mini mart. I mean, he called you Spike, OK Master Spike, but definitely Spike, not William, so it must be someone else, or someone who knew you from before you… you know.”
Xander sat on the bed next to Spike who was frowning and looking increasingly worried. He waited for a long minute in silence, until Spike finally sighed, shrugged and stood, “Well no time like the present. Let’s do a ring around, or email or whatever. But I still reserve the right to snot that little bugger Sahil if I find out he’s been spilling his beans to the wrong sort.”
As they walked downstairs shoulder-to-shoulder Xander started to think aloud “You really don’t think he’s evil or something. Come on Spike, he did kind of throw himself at your feet last night, seemed more like Andrew than Angelus. I’m sure that even if he did tell someone it wasn’t to hurt you. And he didn’t even know me, just Giles, so maybe ‘snotting’ might be a bit extreme.”
Part 13
Two hours later found both individuals lounging, one apiece, on the comfortable, outdoor furniture of the balcony, small laptops perched on their knees, occupied with their own thoughts and matters online.
Xander had called Willow but only managed to leave a message promising he was well and would send an email.
Spike spoke to Giles immediately after, casually querying whether others in the Watcher’s Council or anyone outside the Coven a) might know of his existence and current location – and Xander’s, and b) may have deliberately or accidentally passed it on to someone(s). Giles was adamant that no such slip could or would have occurred and went on to stress his utmost support for the men he was entrusting his London abode to. Xander listened intently as the vampire stressed they were both well and happily occupied. To Xander’s relief, no mention was made of panic and injuries on the first day, before Sp0ike rather reluctantly passed him the phone, apparently to satisfy the older gent that the man he considered a surrogate son was indeed enjoying his ‘holiday’.
Xander repeatedly reassured Giles that he was enjoying himself; that Spike was being considerate and caring; and that he was more than happy to remain in Spike’s company, as long as Spike was happy to have him around.
Spike was pacing the floor by the time Xander was on his second round of, “Yes. Yes, I have. No. Of course… Yes. Yes, I know. Yes, I will I promise. OK. No, it’s really OK…” He had given up listening to the litany of Giles' side of the conversation that was peppered with “remember to…” and “are you sure that…”s in favor of openly growling. Finally he could stand it no more, he wrenched the phone from Xander said, “Listen Watcher, ‘e’s a big boy an’ ‘e’s here with me, an’ I take care of my own – you know that. Now, we’re due to pop out to the museum and at this rate it’ll be closed before you finish the lecture, so I’ll just say a cheery bye from both of us. We’ll call again soon.”
Spike would have slammed down the phone if he could, but had to be satisfied with pushing the call finished button and flinging it across the room, only to bounce off the settee and ricochet into a shocked Xander’s chest, where it was (happily for the phone) caught by reflex, and placed gently back on its stand.
Xander stood expecting a post phone call rant from Spike, but instead the vampire gave Xander a look that he interpreted as worry. Still somewhat reeling from the litany of instructions and voiced concerns from Giles, he dropped his gaze and chewed the inside of his cheek nervously, not sure what to say. He felt pathetic, the dull ache of old hurts and failures returned in full force for the first time since their first night in the flat.
Spike saw the change and recognized the problem for what it was, so acted rather than spoke. Before Xander could even glance up Spike had closed the space between them, put one hand on Xander’s bicep and tilted up his chin with the other. They were only inches apart and the younger man had no choice but to look into sincere, crystal blue. “Now pet, none of that. You are doin’ fine, have done for years, and it can only get better, yeah? I was serious about the National Museum by the way, someone’s got to educate you colonials, so come on. Emails can wait.”
With that he gave Xander’s strong arm an extra squeeze and made for the stairs. They were out the door within minutes.
The museum was only a ten minute walk through backstreets and the day overcast but warm. Xander was in a rather more subdued mood than on previous outings, obviously still mulling over the concerned lecture from Giles. Spike had expected as much but let the boy be, until they were mounting the grand steps of the museum entrance and he heard Xander's mumbled, " Sorry, Spike."
He took another step then spun on the spot to face Xander with a fierce expression, growled and (as they were about the same height in that position) poked Xander in the chest. "You say 'Sorry' one more time for somethin' else you didn't do or are, just because Watcher-man says, and I promise I *will* bite you. Got it?"
Xander looked as though he was going to shrink into the pavement, then closed his good eye and took a deep breath. "Yeah, I'll try..."
Spike looked skeptical for a moment, then his demeanor softened and he patted the arm he had been holding, "Right then. Let's go find us some mummies."
As they ascended the steps and passed the impressive colonnades of the front entrance, Xander ventured quietly, "And could we see the Vikings Exhibit, I'd kind of like to... it looked interesting online."
"Don't rightly mind what we look at."
For the next two and a half hours they tagged along behind various free guided tour groups on the ground floor, saw all that was to be seen of upper rooms, and finished up sitting in the Museum's cafe where Xander had just consumed an enormous, ice cream laden iced chocolate. Looking rather pleased with himself, Xander leaned over pointing to an area on the guide map, "I know it'll cost but I'd really like to see the Ancient Lives Exhibit. What do you think?"
Spike smiled indulgently, the young man really did seem to be having a good time, and to be honest, could better use the time to visit the Credit Suisse offices and confirm arrangements for his Zurich visit in person. "I think I'll sit this one out."
Xander's face fell immediately, "Oh."
"Don't mean you can't go though."
"But what will you do?"
"Well I won't be runnin' off and leavin' you if that's what's got your knickers in a twist. I fancy I'll just observe the 'passing parade', that sort of thing. Look meet you out front in an hour or so. That should be enough time for you to have a good gander, an' you can let me know all about it on the walk home."
"So we'll meet on the steps?"
Spike pushed back from the table, "That sounds a fine plan. Now come on, let's get you sorted with a ticket."
Watching the young man head happily into the exhibit armed with 'guided tour headset and iPod', Spike made for the front door, hailed a taxi and made for the Pall Mall office of Credit Suisse.
.....................................
The building was not particularly impressive, and the receptionist eyed the rather handsome blonde man with some disinterest, but was nevertheless polite as he stepped up to her desk, "Good afternoon, can I help you?"
Spike replied in his original upper crust English accent, "I do hope so. I was wondering if George Montague might be available?"
"Oh. I will check with his PA. Did you have an appointment?"
"Not as such. If you would be so kind as to let him know that it is Master William Aurelius."
"Of course. If you will bear with me for a moment."
Spike stepped away from the desk and studied the large abstract art piece on the wall opposite while he waited. He smiled to himself when he heard the receptionist give a slight squeak followed by "Yes, yes of course. I'll send him right up."
"Sir? Mr Aurelius?" She beckoned to Spike, " Mr Montague is currently in a meeting, but his secretary said he won't be long. He was expecting you, so if you would be kind enough to go up to the fifth floor..."
Spike gave her a blinding smile and turned toward the elevator, leaving the blushing woman to wonder who exactly the handsome young man was to have Mr Montague so willing to see him at such short notice.
Several flustered businessmen were waiting to enter the lift as Spike exited on the fifth floor.
A silver haired man immaculately dressed in a dark, pin striped suit complete with red rose in the lapel immediately strode across the hallway, hand outstretched and broad smile firmly in place. "William! Wonderful to see you again. I was hoping you might stop by."
Spike returned the easy smile and shook the outstretched hand, marveling that it felt, as he remembered, almost warm. "Come in, do come in."
He was swiftly ushered into a large well appointed office, noting the drawn curtains and tasteful lighting as he was offered a seat and Montague took his own behind a wide, glass topped desk.
The businessman's age was indeterminable from his appearance, particularly when he smiled, "I must say I was rather surprised when the chaps from Zurich contacted me last month. There had been some mutterings from across the drink, but then those colonials never could get their facts straight. It's a *great* pleasure to see you after all this time..." Montague leaned forward with a rather conspiratorial look on his face, "Now tell me how's the family, and when do I get to meet your new mystery man?"
Spike cocked his eyebrow at the last statement then gave the banker a *very* abbreviated version of events in LA, carefully skirted around any mention of his soul or sun proof status, managed to avoid all but the information necessary regards Connor's existence, and hedged around Xander and his exact relationship, Consort and Master, or otherwise.
Montague's normally carefully schooled expression alternated between surprised, saddened, annoyed and pleased as his fellow demon's story progressed. He liked William a great deal, and had always made a point of dealing directly with him rather than Angelus or the rest of the unpredictable Aurelians. Adding to that, neither he nor the bank had time for the very 'slippery' Wolfram and Hart - other than when utterly necessary- so when the vampire finished with "... and so you understand my need for discretion when it comes to liquidating some of our assets held in the Swiss vaults.", he allowed his true form to emerge for a moment. Attractive silver grey spines replaced hair, his elegant nose elongating slightly to match now pointed ears, and he replied with a slight lisp caused by his forked, bluish tongue. "You have my absolute word, dear fellow. And my sincere condolences regards your Sire."
Spike felt at once relieved and touched by the genuine sentiment being expressed. He trusted Montague, always had, truth be known. He smiled and gave a curt yet friendly nod, "Thank you."
Montague relaxed back in his chair and reverted to his human guise once more, "Now, I take it you are not just here to afford an old friend fuel for the gossip circle, so when do you intend visiting Zurich and how can I help, other than the obvious."
Twenty minutes later Spike was being ushered personally to the front door of the building. Montague barked an order to the receptionist as they walked past her desk, "Maria, have my car brought around for Mr Aurelius."
Within moments a large, silver, top of the line Mercedes pulled up outside and Spike was handed an umbrella as it was still light though overcast outside. "I'll send through the documents immediately and I'm sure we'll catch up before you leave. Lady Regina is having one of her usual soirees on Saturday and I *know* she won't allow 'her dear William' to miss it." George rolled his eyes and gave Spike a wink adding, "Don't worry, I'll be sure to rescue you if needed."
....................................
Xander emerged from the building exactly an hour later and scanned the steps for his friend and minder. There were a few people obviously doing the same, but Spike was nowhere to be seen. Pushing down his urge to panic, he checked the time on his mobile phone and sat down to the right of the front doors to wait. After seven minutes he spotted the blonde striding across the museum square with purpose and moved to meet him.
"I thought you said here at half six."
Spike took in the mildly worried look on Xander's face and smiled back apologetically, "Sorry mate, the car had to go the long way, road works."
"But I thought you were going to... you know... "
"Yeah, well... Just needed to see a man about a dog is all." Spike stood trying to look innocent but failed miserably
Xander narrowed his good eye at the comment but fell into step beside the vampire as he turned toward home.
They made it another hundred or so metres before Xander said, "Hang on. What car? I thought you were..."
"Tell you at home yeah? C'mon, still have to pick up some dinner."
__________________________________________
Part 14
Xander had barely said more than two words as they wound their way back home, stopping en route for takeaway at a small fried chicken shop that proudly claimed to sell the 'spiciest, niciest chicken in London'.
Spike let them both into the apartment, and had turned on the down lights, flicked the television on, cracked open two beers, and was seated on the couch nursing one before Xander had even closed the door behind himself.
He collected two plates from the kitchen on the way past and joined Spike at the low table. He spreading out their moderate feast and served himself before collecting his beer and sitting back to eye the vampire a little warily. He knew something was bothering the blonde, but he wasn't quite sure if he was the problem or even what to ask, so took a swig of his beer instead.
Spike leaned over, snagged a chicken wing and took a bite. His eyebrows rose immediately, and after several chews and an obvious swallow declared, "Bloody hell! That shop wasn't kiddin'. Reckon there's a chilly farmer short a whole crop out there somewhere!"
Xander was about to laugh when the mouthful he had just bitten off, caused a similar reaction. "Holy c#$p that's hot!" was said around his half eaten morsel, then they both burst out laughing. The rest of the meal (and another two beers apiece) was consumed with gusto, albeit accompanied by various comments regarding possible alternative uses for such a potent spice mix, which quickly devolved into silliness on both partakers parts.
In the end they were sitting side by side on the lounge suite, stomachs happily full, and in a considerably happier mood than when they had first arrived home.
"So Harris, thought the deal was you tell me all about the ancient thingy on our way."
"Yeah, well I got kind of distracted." Xander sat up straight and turned to look seriously at Spike."Why did you leave me there Spike? You said you don't have to watch me all the time, and I've been doing OK I thought, so why go to all that trouble to get me out of the way? Look I know you never really liked me and all that but I thought we were friends so what is it? What aren't you telling me?"
Spike went over the day, and their previous conversations, and realized that there was a whole lot he hadn't told Xander, that he would *have* to tell him if they were to continue cohabiting. The worrying question was just how and how much. He did consider Xander a friend, and someone who had been through the mill more than once just like he had. In all honesty he had hoped... but...Would the boy even want to come along with him if there were parts of the vampire's past that Spike (and, in all honesty, the part of him that was still William) needed to face and resolve, and then move on? What did he want from Xander? For Xander? For them both? Was it too early in Xander's recovery? Or too late for his own? He'd promised to help, more than once, and he meant it. And he genuinely liked the boy. So now what?
Spike was silent for just a little too long for Xander's liking, but more than that, emotions he didn't understand warred in the handsome face before him. The vampire's crystal blue eyes were firmly focused on some spot amongst the detritus on the table in front of them, and still Xander waited. He took his gaze off the vampire and let it wander to the enormous floral arrangement on the sideboard.
Finally he came up with something and took a risk, "Spike? Is this something to do with the flowers?"
Spike followed his gaze and conceded, "Yes, and no, and everything in between. Look to get a few things straight first off. I'm didn't mean to be back late to the museum, and before you jump in, *no* I didn't just want to get rid of you. Yes, we are friends. Yes, I did not like you at first and that went both ways I seem to recall, but we got well past that there at the end... Don't know about you, but I need a smoke and at least another beer for this, rain's stopped, let's take this to the roof , OK? And before you ask again, the flowers do have somethin' to do with it."
Xander simply replied "Oh..." then moved toward the stairs just as Spike headed for the kitchen to heat up his real meal and collect the promised beers.
They both settled onto the balcony furniture after Xander thoughtfully retrieved a towel from their shared bathroom and wiped down the remains of the summer shower. It was dark with no stars or moon, but the street lights reflected on wet surfaces and the glass balustrade bounced the soft light from the modern chandelier inside the apartment.
Spike lit a cigarette and blew a thick plume of smoke skyward. "Right... First, word's out I'm back in town. Seems like only the demon circles know at this stage, but it probably wasn't only that little starry eyed bastard at the off license as spread the word. I visited an old friend at Credit Suisse whilst you were gettin' educated 'bout ancients and whatnot. Could've done with lower profile 'til we were over the channel, but it can't be helped.
"Thing is, I got some things I need to sort here in England, some ghosts to put to rest so to speak. Things that I couldn't do whilst I was tied up with Dru, or Sunnydale and your lot, or even Angel and crew - despite all their so called resources. And apart from me own agenda, I owe it to little brother and 'is family to share some of the wealth 'Gelus had us stash back in the day. Angel set him up with the college fund 'n all, but the boy and 'is folks, and the girls, they deserve somethin' nice to divvy up - I know Angel would have wanted that."
Xander broke in as he noted the fond look on Spike's face as he mentioned Connor and his adoptive family. A family Xander knew, even from the few things the vampire had divulged in their short time together, Spike considered his own, and in turn they had extended their love and care to their son's half brother, the gentle William. "It's not just that Angel would want it, you do too don't you? Want to do something special for them, I mean."
Spike stared into space for a moment then turned to give his human companion a rather wistful smile, "'Course I do. Accepted me as family they did, open arms an' all."
In that moment Xander saw the gentle soul that was pure William. A young man who had loved his own family, looked after an ailing mother and, despite all his posturing and bluster even before the soul, had always loved and protected, kept his word, and had been hurt and suffered immense grief over and over as a consequence. He reached over as Spike moved to pick up his beer and put his large warm hand over the vampire's slender one, squeezed it for a moment and said sincerely, "I'm sure they will appreciate it, and they'll know that anything you arrange comes from you too, regardless if you say it's from Angel."
The blonde looked a little surprised at the last statement and returned Xander's steady one eyed gaze for a long moment, then interlaced their fingers where their hands were joined and squeezed back. The baritone reply was barely audible, "Yeah, reckon they just might."
They sat without moving for several moments longer, each engaged in their own quiet reflections. Spike finally broke the mood by releasing their hands, sitting back and sniffing hard. "Right, well... fancy a trip to Oxford pet?"
Xander appeared surprised by the apparent change in topic and mood, "What's in Oxford? I mean I know a university but why there?"
"Like I said before, to tie up some loose ends of old, but also want to follow up on an invite from a bloke I met at Stanford, history boffin and a bloody good laugh after a pint or two. Besides haven't seen me old digs since afore I was turned. I need to make a few calls, make sure he's about and whatnot, but I reckon a day or two wanderin' around the old town'll be fun. And according to Jonathon the new sports complex is top notch, give you a chance for a dip or a workout whilst I'm busy. What do you say?"
Xander looked a little worried at first but brightened when the prospect of a swim was mentioned, it had only been a few days, but he was used to regular exercise even whilst in hospital. "Sure. When?"
"Thought we could take off tomorrow, it bein' Wednesday 'n out of term time, shouldn't have too much trouble finding a B&B or some such to stay a couple of nights. We can catch the Oxford Tube from Marble Arch, let me sort the details. "
"OK... Sounds like... yeah why not. Do we need to visit Sahil again, you know for supplies?"
"Yeah, we'll drop by in the mornin'."
Xander nodded and thought for a minute, "You said there was something about the flowers Spike?"
"Yes I did didn't I. It's a long story, and one we'll have time for tomorrow on the bus, but long and short of it, demon lot know I'm here, with you."
Xander rolled his eyes at the almost tentative tone, "Well derrrr. Hello Lady Regina and bouquet the size of a florist."
"You nit it's not just that. *I'm* here, William Aurelius, and there are certain expectations."
"What expectations? You have start killing again? Or fight and make minions? Or swear allegiance to some London boss or something?… Shoot if Giles finds out he'll… "
"Nothin like that, and no he won't, well not so much as I can help, at least not yet…" Xander was beginning to look decidedly worried at the last statement but Spike continued with an even, all too reasonable (for Xander's liking) tone. "Listen it's not worth the worry at the mo. We just wait for the invite to the shindig Saturday and sort the details then. As for the Lady Regina - she's an old friend, as in old ties, old money, old manners, that sort of thing. Just need to be polite is all."
"Right… Polite… and what is something happens to me when you're out swanning about? Geez Spike throw us a bone here!"
"You'll be with me you nit! It'll be expected."
"Me? With you? Why would they expect me?"
"Seems the story on the street is we come as a matching set… Anyway, let's worry about that when the time comes." Spike stood and collected the empty two beer bottles and headed inside, still talking over his shoulder, "You go get some shut eye, I'm gonna do some bookin's online so we can away early. Why don't I see you 'round 10 on the morrow?"
Xander agreed reluctantly and added as he strode past his cryptic companion, "Alright, but you *promise* to fill me in on the rest tomorrow. Please?"
The pleading brown eye was Spike's undoing. "Solemnly swear mate, you'll have the whole deal - just don't get your hopes up - may not be that excitin'."
Spike listened to the man potter around in the bathroom and finally heard the door of the bedroom close as he logged on with his iPad. He sent an Email to Prof. Mc Dougall (aka Jonathon) and, as promised, booked and paid for their bus tickets, and a very tasteful Guest House. He struggled to find reasonably priced accommodation with twin rooms close to the city centre, so finally settled on one that promised a king sized bed. If Harris was worried about his virtue, he could bloody well sleep with a pillow between them!
Having logged off, Spike sat for a moment reflecting on the day. All in all it had been a good one, immediate plans in place and no major dramas to speak of. He wondered how his charge might react to some of the revelations that would inevitably occur in the promised discussion the next day. He shook himself out of those thoughts. It was tomorrow's problem.
He stood and stretched, he needed an early night so given it was 2am, turned off the lights and went up to bed.
............................................
Late morning found both men standing at the Oxford Tube's Marble Arch stop on the Hyde Park side. It was a sunny day with pleasant breeze, both men had packed light and dressed comfortably. Spike had enough blood for the three days they expected to be away packed in his small suitcase and their tickets in his hand. In the back pocket of his jeans was an elegant envelope that had been delivered just as both men had prepared to leave their apartment.
They settled into their coach seats, Xander opting for the window, and relaxed in comfortable silence to watch the passing sights.
Eventually they were clear of the city traffic and Xander turned to the blonde beside him. "So who's the note from?"
Spike was musing over the rather enthusiastic email he had received from the Oxford professor in reply to his contact the previous evening. Happily he would have the opportunity to meet and greet a number of Jonathon's colleagues that evening over dinner and the man had "cleared my schedule" for the following day in order to give William his "full attention". Adding that he was hopeful that several of his doctoral students might engage with the visiting academic from Stanford.
"Spike? Are you in there?" Xander touched his knee and the vampire startled out of his daze.
"Sorry... what?
"I said, who's the note from?"
"Oh that. Hang on." He lifted up, pulled the envelope from his pocket, liberated the neatly folded parchment and handed it to Xander. "It's from Lady Regina I'll wager."
Xander opened the note and his eyes went wide, "It's an invitation for Saturday night - for both of us." Xander kept reading then sat back. "Wow! She must really like you... "To my dearest William"? Come on Spike you promised to fill me in on the way to Oxford. Well?"
Part 15
"She's a second cousin of my mother. Lady Regina Grimston is one of the daughters of the Earl of Verulam, not the current one obviously."
"Hang on... that makes her...?"
"Not quite human? Well, to coin your phrase, 'Derrrr'." Spike quirked his eyebrow and grinned.
"No, I meant, an Earl is royalty right? So that would mean..." Spike sighed and wondered idly if another hour in the bus would be enough time to work through the confusion that was his human self's rather complex family history, but also knew that his travel companion would need to know at least the basics if they were both to survive Saturday's soiree without incident.
"That you'll have to shut your gob an' stop interuptin' is what."
Xander tried for a knowing wink, forgetting for a moment that it looked rather silly with only one eye. When Spike's look threatened to turn dark, he quickly held his hands up in defeat, "Alright already. Do continue, Your Highness."
Spike replied, "Cheeky prat," but continued, this time uninterrupted. "Right then. Mother was Lady Anna Seymour, second daughter of one of the Earls of Somerset. She was a real looker in her day they say, still had the prettiest blue eyes, even when she was... she still lit up a room when she smiled..." Spike's face softened and looked decidedly younger as fond memories flooded in, then he continued, "Anyway... she had money, well a generous dowry and allowance at least, a title and was considered a right catch. Father was Henry Cavendish, upper class, politician. Mother's family approved because of the Dukes of Devonshire connection, and the fact he was a hunting friend of her father's. They married the year she turned eighteen.
"He was twenty years her senior, a well off widower with no children besides, and she was of child bearing age with peerage background. Don't remember much of him, just that he had a bushy moustache, a pleasant smile and always smelled of cigars. Whenever I was presented to him it was always formal, usually him in his study, with brandy in hand and a book open. He died when I was twelve and still a lad at school."
Spike realized that his usual, carefully practiced, rough accent had slipped, but as a warm hand found his knee and conveyed friendly support, failed to really care and gave up all pretence. He let himself fall further into his memories, encouraged by the sense of quiet friendship and acceptance emanating from the man next to him.
"Mother always told me how proud Father was of my endeavors at school and that I was destined to follow him and others of the family into politics. In truth, it was the last thing I wished for. I was desperately shy and felt quite out of place in the society set, if it hadn't been for my cousin Richard, it would have been unbearable. He was four years older than I, a Viscount already, and was gregarious, tall, athletic and terribly handsome. Everything I wasn't. Nevertheless, he took me under his wing. We went to all the right parties and introduced me to the various pleasures that went with the lifestyle of a gentleman of the time. I idolized him and thought we would remain chums forever, but it wasn't to be.
"At seventeen Mother was encouraged to send me to Trinity College, Oxford, Father's old alumni. That same year Richard was married to some rich society heiress from New York, and we rarely saw each other again after that.
"I passed the oral entrance exams easily, studied Classics and did extremely well. It was the first time since I was a young child that I felt like I belonged. Was even named on the honor roll and won a scholarship in my third year. It was around that time that I fell truly in love for the first time.
"He was reading Law, you'd call it 'majoring', and in his final year. His rooms were just down the hall from mine but we mostly met up in the library at first." Spike's voice trailed off to a low almost whisper, "James and I had everything in common, yet were different in so many ways. He loved to laugh and everyone was his friend it seemed, he could be crass and rowdy and hold his own in a crowd, but when it was just the two of us, he was gentle and soft and thoughtful, beautiful. We didn't dare do anything beyond an occasional touch, but I remember one lazy spring day, lying in the sun, just together, happy, he kissed me. Not demanding or begging for more, just a simple kiss and caress of his hand on my cheek. We both felt it and I kissed him back..."
Xander had remained utterly silent throughout the monologue, but broke in when he sensed Spike tense a little, "What happened? To him, to you, I mean?"
"Pardon? Oh sorry... yes, well, we both graduated that year. I was called back to London as Mother was unwell, and he joined his father in their Law practise in Kent. I wrote to him once the following Christmas, but there was no reply, not that I really expected one. I saw him a few years later at a charity do. He had married well and was successful in his profession. I was happy for him.
"After that, and with mother ill, I did what was expected of me. I accepted a position as private secretary to a member of Parliament, attended the right parties and tried to mix with others of our class as was expected. I was supposed to marry and produce an heir, regardless of my leanings, plenty of others did it. I suppose I was terribly inept, always finding favour with the mothers of eligible girls, but never with the ladies in question.
"It felt like I would somehow be living a lie or would be found out somehow. I was twenty five when I was introduced to Cecily at one of Lady Regina's parties. She was pretty, popular and apparently well connected, and Mother approved and encouraged the possible match... And I suppose I saw her as... well, a solution, so I pursued her. Of course she showed no interest, but that did not stop me from trying more than once to come to her notice.
"I finally mustered the courage to meet with her privately during a party at her house in Mayfair, and was unequivocally told she was not in the slightest bit interested... I truly believed I had failed my parents, and had made myself the laughing stock of the London set. It was shortly after, when I had shamefully run from the situation, Dru found me."
Spike sniffed hard and reached for the sports bottle in the seat pocket in front. Xander knew it contained cold human blood and noticed that the vampire's hands were shaking slightly as he tipped it and emptied the contents in one go. " So there you have it Harris, satisfied? You now know more 'n all but the very privileged few about yours truly and pretty much all of 'em are six foot under."
When Xander merely stared at the hand that had previously rested on Spike's knee, the blonde became a little uncomfortable. "Well? Not goin' to mock or make comment?"
"No Spike, I'm not, mock I mean. Why would I? I mean, it's incredibly sad."
"I bear my soul and all you c'n offer is that I'm a sad sod. Didn't even need the Cliff Notes for that!" Spike snarled out the last part.
Xander knew that they were in no position to have an all out argument - nor did he want one - so he took the empty sports bottle from the hand that was now waving angrily in his direction and calmly tucked it back into the seat pocket before replying.
"That's not what I'm saying and you know it. I think it's sad because... well because it just is! I mean I knew, I guess instinctively with some of it, you know the keeping your word, protecting Dawn, going after Buffy, the sacrifice(s) you made with and without your soul. William was always there wasn't he? And we were too stupid to see, well with being a vampire and you were trying to kill us some of the time. But it makes a lot more sense now. And the gay thing, I get that, geez been there got the T-shirt. Can I ask something though? It's a bit out of left field I guess."
Though Spike was still in the throws of feeling agitated and a little confused by the almost revelation regards the man's sexuality (a question filed for later), he replied gruffly, "Fire away."
Xander shifted in his seat so he could look at Spike directly with his good eye. "Well... If you were gay, and the son of minor royalty, and well educated and all that, what happened? I mean when Dru turned you did all that just go away? 'Cause from where I'm sitting I kind of think not. But I can't figure the why and the how - you know from William to Spike? Was it just a bite from Dru and wham you go all vicious killer on everyone's arse? That sort of doesn't make sense, like, at all?"
All Spike's annoyance and defensiveness evaporated instantly as all he saw in the chocolate eye focused squarely on him was sincerity, friendship and genuine curiosity.
"OK in for a penny then I guess. But after this you're gonna answer me a couple of questions of me own, deal?"
"Deal." Xander relaxed back into his seat but continued to hold the vampire's cerulean gaze.
"I didn't change then and there. Oh I knew I had been turned alright. And pretty much had sex with Dru as soon as I rose, right then and there, twice if I recall, wild debauched f%#king in a pauper's graveyard where Dru had me buried. All teeth an' nails an'... anyway... You get the picture. For a Victorian bloke who had only ever sinfully jacked off before once or twice, it was a bloody revelation. I thought she was perfect, and for the first time in my life I felt free and like I could truly be with a woman. She dragged me back to the lair to meet 'Gelus.
"He was big an' powerful, an' a handsome bastard to boot. First time we met I reckon he took my measure pretty quick. Must've decided I was worth havin' around, even if it was just to look after Dru in her off moments. But he tested me and then laughed saying we were to be great friends, and he reminded me of cousin Richard in an odd way, Irish accent and no education to speak of aside. I had no idea so just went along for the ride I guess.
"The next day I was so excited about, well everything really, that I took Drusilla to meet Mother. I had this idea that if I turned her she could be well again, that we could all be together. 'Course that went arse over tit - didn't know that one so young shouldn't try to turn anyone. When I went back two days later to see if she had risen, well she had, but it wasn't her. She looked wonderful, healthy, younger, but it wasn't her. She was all demon. Said some horrible things, things Mother would never have said or thought even. I couldn't... anyway... I staked her.
"That night the bitch queen Darla came home, and was all for stakin' me, dragged me down to the coal room and took to me with a whip with 'Gelus watchin' just to prove I was a nancy boy not worthy of bein' turned. Reckon she figured she'd break me and have the big sod do the deed after she'd had her fun, hadn't figured on me just takin' it and more without cryin'. Hells she could wield that thing better 'n any depraved school master with a switch on a bad day, but she couldn't get me to break. Ended up orderin' 'Gelus to give me a good buggerin', which he did, before Dru went completely sack 'o hammers, screamin' an' scratchin like a dervish an' the two of 'em had their hands too busy containin' her to continue.
"Bitch never did get 'round to the stake that night, an' 'Gelus came down later an' fed me, was all sorry like, explained how things were, said I was young, but that 'e was impressed, promised to take me under 'is wing so to speak... unlife can be funny that way. Spent most of the rest of my time as vampire tryin' to get back to that... that point where he'd show me that attention, his approval." Spike looked past Xander and out the window to the passing scenery. They were close to Oxford, but Spike still had more to say, and an important couple of questions to ask his audience of one.
"Darla was ever the trumped up whore, but loved fancy clothes and posh parties an' when she found out I was 'connected' played that card for all it was worth. I was the one who could get us into the society shindigs, knew a lot of the old families, hells I was related to half of them if you went back far enough - and not so far in most cases. Really pissed her off when invites came for me 'n Dru and not her. But she managed to wheedle her way in along with 'Gelus most of the time. And that mob didn't mind a bit o' rumpy pumpy an' rough play, so long as everyone went home happy after the weekend at whatever manor house was hostin'. If one or two of the locals or the help went missin' no one seemed to pay any mind."
"I was about fifteen years turned before the Lady Regina summoned us to her, then, summer house just outside St Petersburg. Darla was in one of her usual snits and she an' Dru took off to the south of Italy for the winter at the invite of that trumped up ponce called the Immortal, so it was just me and 'Gelus in St Petersburg. Typical of her station in life her Ladyship had been turned by one of the Hapsburg mob, then took up with a cousin of the Tzarina. Royalty never really did mind the odd demon in the family. She still had a shine for me from way back when I was human, and, well even more after I was vamped apparently... anyway. That's about it for now, don't you reckon? Or was it, as you say, 'TMI' for that cute li'l noggin' 'o yours?"
"What? No! Thanks. Um... Wait, you think my nogging is cute... what the...?"
"Leave it you nit. My time for questions. How long have you known you were gay? Who was your first bloke? And do you fancy comin' as my Consort to that party Saturday?"
The bus pulled up to their Oxford stop and Spike was clambering out dragging Xander with him before the ex-Scoobie recovered enough from his shock to form even one answer.
Part 16
Xander was distracted but still managed to trail behind Spike as he moved away from the bus stop and hailed a taxi. After two attempts, he was successful and they piled in for what was barely a five minute ride south, over the Thames, turning down a narrow street opposite playing fields with pub on one corner and off license on the other. The car pulled up in front of one in a long row of smart Victorian terrace houses.
A light shower of rain started just as they stepped up to the front door of the "White House View Guest House". Spike rang the bell as a courtesy, and then opened the door, ushering Xander through into a simple yet attractive entrance hall.
A smiling, petite red-haired woman hurried down the stairs toward them. "Welcome, welcome! You must be William and Alexander. I'm Sally. Sally Parsons." She shook both men's hands with enthusiasm then indicated to the door on their left. "Please, just leave your bags there and come through to the sitting room." Adding as the two passed her, " Well, it sort of doubles as my office really. We try to keep things as informal as possible around here."
Sally made her way to a fine antique desk nestled in the corner of the tastefully appointed sitting room complete with bay windows and original fire place.
"Do take a seat, this won't take a minute. Now, I'll just find your booking details and we'll get you sorted." She smiled at the men as she shuffled a few papers, producing one with key attached, and pushed it and a guest book across the desk along with a pen. "Now, I have you down for two nights, and I'll just let you know now that you are welcome to leave your luggage here on Friday if you need to, there's always someone about. Weekends are our busy times of course, so we do ask that guests check out of their rooms by eleven but we don't push you out the door! You paid on line which is brilliant, so if you'd just like to sign the book, that would be lovely, and I can show you up to your room."
Spike then Xander signed dutifully, then followed Sally as she cheerfully pointed out the breakfast room and other amenities; informed them of the information regards the highlights to see around Oxford; and led them up the stairs to a newly appointed double room and en suite.
"Now the WiFi password and so on is on the card there beside the television, there are extra pillows in the wardrobe, and I'm sure you can sort out the rest. The front door is generally locked of a night from ten onwards, but that second key on your chain will let you in. Oh, and don't hesitate to ask if there's something else you need while you're here."
She breezed out just as the doorbell downstairs signaled the arrival of more guests.
Spike and Xander both remained where Sally left them, staring rather bemused at the door. It was Spike who broke the silence, "Well... she seems nice."
It was such a bland, somewhat absurd comment that they both ended up sitting on the bed accompanied by several bouts of (manly) giggles. Finally Xander calmed enough to stop, "Alright, alright. Spike, you do realize this is a *double* room."
"And?" Spike feigned a puzzled look in the brunette's direction
"And... she didn't comment. I mean, she must think we're together, as in you know *together*."
"And?" This time the query was accompanied by his trademark cocked eyebrow and almost smirk.
"Well are you OK with that? Her thinking that I mean. Gods Spike it's an enormous *double* bed."
"Better than two pissant singles. Besides there's *extra* pillows... in the cupboard. Whatever should we do with those I wonder? Good old Sally is probably fantasizing about that too right about now."
Xander managed to look annoyed, but Spike could sense his slight arousal at the comment.
"OK... Fine. But I get the window side. And don't even think about hogging the covers!"
Spike had thought there would be far more protestation, but just went with the flow. "Fine by me. Now we goin' to unpack the essentials an' get tidied up or what? I reckon there's a pub on the corner has a beer with my name on it."
And that was that.
Fifteen minutes later they were seated inside the small local pub, nursing a beer each with an order of hot chips on the way.
"OK Harris. Seem to remember a couple of questions you promised to answer."
Xander had been staring out the window at the open playing fields on the opposite side of the road, looking at nothing in particular, but turned back to his companion at Spike's statement.
"I did, didn't I. Me, gay, all the dirt... got it, although it's all pretty snore worthy really." Spike quirked an eyebrow and leaned back as Xander gave a resigned sigh, took a long draft of his beer and began, "Well after Sunnydale and... you know... we've sort of covered that bit - hung around the US for a while, followed the others here, Watcher in the field, Africa, yadda, yadda.
"Anyways, it was on my second trip to Africa, I guess I was lonely and I'd gotten to know a couple of the medico's from Medicine Sans Frontiers, mainly because we were all at the same dodgy hotel in Algiers. Anyway... they were on R&R and to pick up supplies. I was waiting from word from the Council.
I liked Jacque and he liked me, a lot. He was handsome and funny, and a brilliant surgical nurse - well according to his mates. We went out as a group a couple of times and on the third night he and I went on club together, had some drinks and ended up... well, I guess it sort of went from there. It wasn't hearts and flowers, just really nice, and we both knew that from the beginning... that it was just, you know, 'friends with benefits' for the time we had.
"I met up with him once more after that, again in Algiers, six months later. He was going back to France. We kept in touch on and off, the last time he said he and his boyfriend, well... partner, were buying a house in Nice and that I was always welcome. But you know... I never took up the offer."
Xander paused to take a long draft of his beer and closed his good eye for a moment, then watched as Spike went to collect their hot chips from the bar and triumphantly returned with not only crunchy, golden fried fat potato pieces, but a condiment rack also.
The brunette looked horrified as his companion picked up the vinegar bottle and sprinkled it liberally over the chips then added salt. Spike gave an unrepentant grin and managed to down three or four of the largest chips from the bowl before Xander grabbed his own handful and the vampire waved him to continue. "And...?"
"What 'and'? There is no 'and'... although I kind of wish... Look, I pretty much knew I was at least bi since high school. Although 'bi' sort of doesn't cover it since pretty much all my dates ended up being demons of one description or another, just that most of them looked like women. Anyway, I'm kind of sure you noticed my 'leanings' after Anya, Mr Scratch and Sniff, Snooping-in-my-bedroom-drawers-when-you-lived-with-me-and-I'm-at-work, house-vamp - although I guess thanks for not saying anything at the time. I was pretty confused for a long while.
"So now? Me and the whole same sex long term partnership thing? The way I see it - and ignoring the ninety nine point nine nine whatever percent of the population who wouldn't begin to understand my whole supernatural friends, Hellmouth upbringing history - the whole psycho PTSD, one-eyed Xanman? Really a turn off. No one wants that in their life."
Spike audibly growled at the last statement, let Xander polish off the last of the chips then grabbed the bowl and both their glasses, and stomped off to get another round for them both.
He had calmed a little by the time he sat down again and pushed the second beer across the table toward Xander. They sat in silence for a while, Spike tracing the condensation drips down his glass as he mulled over how to continue the conversation. He wanted to shake the boy, make him fight back and prove he was more than his self assessed, hopeless self. On the other he wanted to throw him over his shoulder and carry him back to their shared room and show him just what a vampire as lover could bring to the bedside.
In the end it was Xander who broke the silence. "So?... Do you want to get separate rooms now or something, 'cause, you know, awkward much... with the revelations I mean. "
When his only answer was an unfathomable look, his mind began to race, heart rate rose more than a notch and the time old habit of nervous babble kicked in. "Look I don't mind, I mean it's been really comfortable you and I for the last few days, and I really do appreciate that you are kind of putting up with me, and the whole tagging along thing and the tourist stuff, and I thought we were friends before, and Ghod I really did miss you after... Ghod Spike! I *mourned your passing* as much if not more than Anya, 'cause you did it for us and, well me, and I kept remembering all the times you saved me and wishing I had kind of realized before then, and that maybe we could have been more than friends but knew how stupid that was but it didn't stop me from thinking that. And then I would go over all the times I was mean to you and how you weren't gay and how stupid I was, but now you're here and you're helping again, and after you said... well I was hoping... but then that's stupid cause you're all Mr Cool and Gorgeous and I'm... well whatever, and you'd never... anyways..."
Spike caught up with the monologue half way through. The brunette reeked of pain, uncertainty and the same hint of arousal that had been present all week, so he used the only method he could come up with to shut the boy up. With preternatural speed he grabbed Xander's right arm and pulled him up from his position opposite at the tiny table, and met him half way in an almost brutal kiss.
Xander was so stunned he forgot to kiss back for a moment, then moaned and leaned in to return the gesture with surprised enthusiasm.
Spike eventually released the man and sat back down to wait whilst Xander did likewise trying to process what had just happened. Rather than let the thinking go too far he gave a cheeky grin and said, "Well, at least we didn't knock over the drinks, although there's always next time."
"Next time! Wha...?I um... that is... Geez ... What was...?" Xander touched tentative fingers to his somewhat swollen lips.
"That about? It was about shutting you up mate. It was about yes, I like you, did and do. It was about thanking you for all the times you helped *me* out. And it was, hopefully, telling you that I'd like more 'n just to 'help' you, now, here. An' it's about taking a risk, or Carpe Diem since we're in a university town."
Xander let his hand drop and stared at the vampire for a moment, seemingly trying to assess any ulterior motive, finding only openness and a rather shy, genuine smile directed at him. All he could think of to say was a quiet, "Oh... well yeah, OK... Umm... what do you?..."
Not wanting to give the man a chance to start back into a brood of some description, he took up his beer gestured toward Xander and said, "C'mon, drink up mate, got a prof. to call and dinner spot to find. Rain's hangin' off so I figured we could walk."
The rest of the afternoon was spent organizing their dining arrangements, quietly checking emails and matters online and finally getting showered and dressed. They meandered into the city centre and down to the Oxford Retreat on the Thames, Xander once again surprised by how easily Spike seemed to navigate them, and the relatively small size of Oxford.
The venue was an old pub and restaurant, and though they were a little early, the two were directed to a table nearest a wide window overlooking the river, where two middle aged gentleman and a younger looking woman were seated.
As they approached the three stood and one held out his hand, smiling broadly at Spike, "William! Wonderful to see you old chap. These are my colleagues Dr Rebecca Armstrong , Associate Professor, passionate Latin poetry lecturer, and Dr Stefano Angelista, professor and Trinity College, specialty is the Victorians."
Handshakes were exchanged all around with the requisite, "William Aurelius and this is my friend Alexander Harris."
Jonathon gestured toward the empty chairs at their table, "Well do sit down... do sit down. We've yet to order but what can I get you two to drink?"
Spike settled gracefully with Xander taking the seat to his right. He gave Spike a rather nervous smile and hoped desperately that no one would ask him what his 'area of academic expertise' was.
....................................................
Part 17
Spike noted Xander's discomfort. He could hear the raised heartbeat and smelled the slight tinge of fear as Xander seated himself, at the same time admiring the man's ability to cover it with his outer actions, the handshake and patented crooked grin that always matched genuine friendliness shining from his good eye.
Spike gave his full attention to his friend as they settled for the evening. Xander was handsome, thinner than Sunnydale, but still tall and broad shouldered with olive skin that used to be tanned. The brunette hair was longer, still thick and wavy, neatly hiding the strap to his ever present eye patch. Spike noted that he fitted the university student age image perfectly, particularly dressed in a thin cotton knit, burgundy sweater and jeans as he had. Realizing he had gazed for long enough, he squeezed Xander's knee under the table as a sign of silent support and turned his attention to the others in their company.
Two beers arrived and Jonathon ordered some starters to share while the group pondered their menus peppered by polite conversation. The latter consisting of Jonathon waxing lyrical regards William and his 'most colourful and insightful commentaries on Victorian England' and his 'highly engaging tutorial sessions' witnessed by the academic whilst he was visiting Stanford.
Spike gave a self deprecating comment at the end of Jonathon’s effusive introduction, and continued with a few thoughts on his perceived limitations of some of the historical resources generally referenced by students researching that era. Xander noted that his usually harsh ‘mockney’ accent slipped into the cultured tones of his Victorian upbringing as the blonde emphasized to his audience that he was hardly an expert, and merely tried to challenge some of the Stanford ‘crew’ on their concepts of the societal influences brought to bear on writers of the time, ending with the statement that, “After all, history’s written by the winners.”
Stephano was first to make comment as Spike fell silent, and the vampire seemed genuinely intrigued to learn that the man’s particular interest was in bringing light to some of the lesser known writers of the time, though could not suppress the slight growl when Oscar Wilde was mentioned. The Oxford professor did not notice and kept talking, but at Xander’s quizzical look and quirked eyebrow, the vampire said, only for his companion’s hearing, “Bloody trumped up Irish git. Tell ya later.”
At some point, Jonathon happened to mention that William’s own university studies had been in the Classics, after which their female counterpart, Rebecca, began to speak of her own area of research and a number of Greek poets and writers that Xander had little or no idea of. The woman reminded Spike of Fred, and Xander of Willow, as her shy demeanor fell away and she spoke passionately of her recent trip to Greece and a new line of research that had emerged as a consequence.
It seemed that Stefano and Jonathon both had interests in Greek poets and writers and their relevance to modern writing in their own academic pursuits. The ensuing dialogue was enthusiastic and passionate on the part of all present, but Xander. He felt quite out of his depth and therefore relieved when dinner was first ordered, then arrived. He paced his meal according to the others at the table, smiled and nodded when he felt it appropriate, and answered with what were brief, yet apparently apt, leading questions whenever the conversation turned to him. He thought he was doing quite well at hiding his self conscious state of anxiety, hardly noticing that he had zoned out a little too effectively, until his wine glass was filled for the third time and he was asked a direct question by the bottle wielding Jonathon.
“So is this your first time in Oxford, Alexander?”
Xander gave a nervous smile but managed to nod his thanks for the refill and smile, giving him time to quickly come up with an appropriate response, one that would hopefully not require much in the way of detail or explanation.
“Yes, although I’ve been in the UK on and off for the last three years for… well when I wasn’t in Africa for work. I’ve been staying in Surrey for… for a while, until Sp…William came. It was Will’s idea to visit Oxford.”
“So I take it you’ll have your own plans for tomorrow? I had hoped to snag William for an hour or two if you don’t mind too much. You are most welcome to use the University facilities of course if you are at a loose end. There’s plenty to see and I hear from William that you are quite the keen swimmer. We have terrific sports facilities if you fancy a workout.”
Xander brightened at the prospect of some exercise, and also grateful that he had been spared going into any of his background. “Yes, actually, that would be great.”
Rebecca jumped on the idea also and before Xander knew it he had been organized into meeting her outside the Hinksey Swimming Pool at one the next day, with enthusiastic assurances that it was only a few streets from their B&B and was heated outdoors with plenty of room for lap swimmers.
Whether it was the prospect of familiar exercise, the buzz of the alcohol, or the delicious sticky date pudding he was presented with for dessert, Xander was decidedly more engaged in the conversation toward the end of the meal. Even opening up a little regarding his time in Africa, at least his visits to Algiers, though still guarded as to the exact nature of his activities. Spike was adept at deflecting the more difficult questions. So good, in fact, that by the end of the night the three professors had the distinct (and not wholly untrue) impression that Alexander had been working with the UN; concluded that he had been injured in combat; and correctly surmised that he and William had known each other for an extended period, though their renewed friendship (or perhaps more) and joint travel plans was far more recent.
Arrangements were made for William to meet with Stefano and Jonathon the following day at their Trinity College offices, and Jonathon graciously paid for their dinner before anyone else could protest.
With farewells said, Stefano insisted on driving the two back to their lodgings at the end of the night.
Spike guided a slightly tipsy companion up the stairs to their shared room. Once inside, he flicked on the light and television in that order, and pulled two packets of ‘the good stuff’ from the cooler by the bed. Xander sat heavily on the bed and began to strip off while Spike took to the bathroom to warm up his AB pos and consume it in private.
By the time he rejoined Xander, the man was dressed only in T-shirt and boxers and was sitting staring at some forgettable late night movie on the flat screen. He looked over as Spike re entered the bedroom. “I’m, I’m sorry if I talked too much tonight.”
The vampire looked hard at the brunette and recognized the insecurity of earlier in the evening had returned in full force. “’Course you didn’t, ya sod. ‘Twas me as should be doin’ the apologies.”
Xander looked visibly relieved, “No! No. Not at all. Spike, I… well I guess I… You were like… well, like Giles only ten times better, with all the… you know the reading and the history stuff… and… I guess I’ve just never really…” He wasn’t quite sure how to continue, so settled on, “Ghod Spike, you were… are amazing… all handsome and witty and considerate, and I just… anyway thanks -for letting me tag along I mean. And, you know, thanks for not telling them… you know…about how I didn’t go to college and am just a dumb-ass carpenter, turned failed whatever… and…well… all the other stuff…” He trailed off into silence, shoulders slumped, as Spike simply looked at him with an unreadable expression.
Spike was by his side in an instant, took the hand closest and squeezed it almost painfully. “Now I think there was a lovely compliment in there somewhere, but I thought we sorted the rest earlier today. You keep talkin’ yourself down and I’ll just have to stop ya like we did earlier.” Xander’s thoughts instantly went to the kiss in the pub and Spike saw and smelled the reaction before he heard the whispered, “I wouldn’t mind.”
He ground out a seductive, “That right?” and proceeded to do just that. This time, however, Xander was a willing participant from the first touch of the cool lips, and Spike followed him down as the man fell back onto the covers deepening the kiss.
Strong human hands roamed and kneaded his shoulders and back, and Spike marveled at the warmth and feeling of utter rightness in the act as Xander also explored his mouth with a willing tongue.
Eventually the brunette had to break off for a much needed breath, and relaxed back, hands falling away as Spike was left to look down at the prone form with equal measures of surprise and fond affection. The chocolate eye staring back at him held his gaze, conveying deep friendship and the hope of something more. A long moment later, Spike leant down enough to give Xander a kiss to the tip of his nose then pushed back and up to standing. He held out his hand for the man, “C’mon pet, much as I’d like to play a bit more, reckon it’s time you were abed.”
The taller man was only inches away and swayed even closer as Spike pulled the covers down with his free hand. He gently pushed Xander back onto the clean sheets and silently tugged the duvet up and over the long legs, tucking it tenderly around the man’s broad chest. As the man settled into the softness, Spike gentled Xander’s eye patch off and smoothed his ruffled locks, and despite their recent ardor, this simple act seemed far more intimate to Xander. “Sleep tight, luv” from Spike completed the perfect end of the evening for the ex Scoobie and he was well on his way to slumber by the time Spike had turned off the television and lights.
Spike silently pulled out of his clothes and slid in beside Xander just out of touching range and listened intently until he heard a happy sigh and the man’s breathing slow in sleep.
Spike watched the man next to him for a while. Xander, this Xander, was a complex individual, one with a past that he knew only parts of, but that he found himself wanting to understand. Rather than pondering the gaps in his knowledge of the brunette next to him, he began to review what he did know of Xander, and in that context, what he knew of himself.
He tucked his left arm under his head and turned to stare at the ceiling. The things they had in common were easy.
The boy was loyal to a fault, putting others’ needs and safety, and happiness for that matter, in front of his own. He was courageous even when the odds were stacked against him. He wore his heart on his sleeve and been deeply hurt as a consequence, not once, but many times and by those he loved most. He was scarred physically and psychologically, by events and circumstances beyond his control, and often because he judged others based on his own set of values. He was judged as lacking and seriously underestimated by friend and foe alike. He loved quickly and completely. He had lost and grieved for some of those dearest to him. He held untapped potential that even he was reluctant to acknowledge. He obviously craved contact – physical and emotional. He had acknowledged his attraction to the same sex, even so far as to openly explain it to Spike. He was easy on the eye – tall, brunette, athletic though slimmer than Spike remembered from Sunnydale. He was thoughtful and kind, and proving good company… And?
Spike paused at the final ‘and’ to switch his thinking to their differences. The first was easy – human. He was human and that almost summed the differences up there and then. But there was more. He had never had the privilege of a fine education, or a doting mother, or a protected upbringing and consequently had never… Spike left those thoughts and changed tack. He did not have the history of William the Bloody, had not lived through the tortures of Angelus or the various other torturers whom Spike had survived, and thank any god one chose to pray to that that was so.
Spike lay on his back for a while longer, contemplating his own more recent past and then turned to the immediate future. What did he want with or from Xander, and what did Xander want of him? They had kissed, lovely, intense and surprising as it may have been to either of them, it was the promise of what might be that had Spike stumped.
He silently removed himself from their shared bed, pulled on his jeans and duster, and quietly let himself out of their room. He needed a cigarette.
His nicotine craving was satisfied easily whilst pacing up and down on the small porch in front of the B&B. What his mind kept demanding was some sort of plan, at least an immediate one, if he and Xander were going to be… what?... more than just ‘friends’? Lovers? Partners? All of the three?
There, he had admitted it to himself. He wanted Xander. He wanted all that Xander was. All the flaws, insecurities and foibles, and he wanted to share all of himself too. He craved the opportunity to treat the boy as he deserved, better than he had ever been before, provide for him body and soul, build something between them that was mutual and beneficial and… all he just knew they both needed.
Flicking the spent cigarette into the street, he let himself back inside and took the stairs still deep in thought. His reasons were selfish and selfless, all encompassing. And it terrified him, just as he suspected it would terrify Xander.
Was it worth the risk of them trying? Was it too early to really tell if Xander…?
He heated up another bag of blood in the basin of the bathroom and consumed it whilst staring at the man in the bed. The conclusion was obvious. He was love’s bitch, always had been. He would put his heart on the line one more time and no matter how quickly or slowly things progressed he would hope, at least for now, that he was found good enough to love back.
That settled, he finally crawled back into bed, snuggled down on his own side and was quietly thrilled as he felt the warm large form move instinctively in sleep, spooning him from behind.
………………………………..
Part 18
He knew it was a dream and it was getting ridiculous, if that could be said of dreams.
Muddled in with images of long hallways and sets of stairs leading to old fashioned lecture rooms and faces of people he knew from his distant past, were others of Angel, walking in the distance out of earshot, and a feeling of dread as he tried to find something, someone. Spike had the distinct sensation that he was wrapped in something warm, but nude at the same time, the beings around him had noted his unclothed state if the looks of disapproval were anything to go by.
All at once, he was climbing a down a long flight of stairs. He was needed at a ceremony of some sort and had the distinct feeling that he was running late, that he had to be there *now*. The hallways went forever, so he kept turning corners and going through doors, only to find himself back where he started.
The scene changed suddenly to one of a trail on a snow bound peak. He had no shoes on which now seemed important for some unknown reason, but he knew he needed to continue, he was going to be too late.
His footing slipped and instantly he was falling into some sort of abyss. He seemed to fall forever, watching images flashing past until he managed to grab onto something, a branch. He held on tight and strangely when the scenery stilled, he was sitting on the marble floor of a hotel lobby. A faceless form approached him and handed him a key and indicated the stairs to his left. Opening the door at the top he was presented with the inside of the Great Hall at Trinity College with dinner in progress.
The platform in front of the long table was occupied by the Dons of the College, each academic gowned figure a person of Spike had failed and lost, Buffy, Angel, Fred, Charles and Wesley, his mother, and many others on either side of them. But his focus was on the beaten figure standing in front of the main group. At the edge of the podium was Xander, bound, covered in blood, with his head hanging down. The nude, badly beaten body of a girl was at his feet. As Spike approached, apparently by thought alone, as he didn’t feel his legs move, Xander lifted his chin and stared with horror into the distance. His eye socket was raw and bleeding, the other cheek streaked with tears. He started calling to Spike, “Please… Please! I tried and now… Look what I’ve done…”
Spike couldn’t seem to get any closer, he tried but nothing was working, he knew he was failing, but couldn’t let whatever was coming happen! A menacing figure passed by his shoulder toward the horrid scene of his friend, obviously intent on doing the boy harm. He thought he recognized the rear of the apparition. Pavane. It couldn’t be! And finally he could move again.
Rushing forward he tried to grab Xander, but the wraithlike Pavane wrapped its arms around his waist and began hauling him backwards, and where they were joined his skin began to flame.
Xander’s bonds fell away and he fell forward towards Spike, tripping over the body in front of him. They both began yelling at the same time. Spike trying to convince Xander to get up and run to safety, and Xander insisting he could help Spike. In his desperation Spike kicked out only to find that his feet also on fire and were caught up in something. Despite the flames spreading, he struggled desperately to get away from his captor, while the maimed Xander crawled toward him.
Finally Xander’s hand latched on to his wrist, pulling him free of Pavane, and all the flames extinguished instantly. He felt himself falling head first, grasping Xander tightly as he was pulled into an embrace. But then they kept falling, tumbling down into blackness, nothingness, he was at once horrified and relieved that he was now in the bloodied arms of the man he had been so desperate to rescue… And as he did so, his dream world fell away with an abrupt thud.
……………………………………..
Two male bodies and most of the bedding had landed in a tangled heap on the floor beside their shared bed.
Xander had landed on top of the vampire and though momentarily stunned, rolled to his side and began shaking Spike’s shoulder, “Spike, wake up! Come on Spike… Wake up! It’s OK buddy… We’re here in our room. It’s OK…”
The vampire was crying and begging as he struggled to consciousness, alternately grasping for Xander and pushing him away. “Xan!… Save you… ::sob::… No!... Burning! Don’t… Not hell…Not… you!… ::sob::…your eye! Can’t leave… Gahhh! Xan!”
With the final call to Xander, the images and panic, and his game face finally retreated, and though Spike continued to take unnecessary gulps of air, he slowly blinked open tear filled, terrified blue eyes.
Xander watched him carefully for a moment, then hauled the smaller blonde half over his chest and held him, letting his free hand slowly stroke up and down the smooth pale back. “Hey, shhh. It was a nightmare… you’re safe, we’re safe…”
They lay on the floor until Xander felt the vampire cease breathing altogether, then waited a while longer. Finally, however, his bladder made moving imperative. “Hey buddy, we need to get up, OK? Just up onto the bed while I go to the little boys’ room OK? Come on, here we go.” With that he reached down to the tangle of sheets, unwound a couple of twists and tugged their legs free. He then sat up, Spike pushing up with him.
Xander extracted himself completely and made for the bathroom while Spike pulled himself up to sit on the bed, legs hanging over the side with the corner of the duvet covering his nudity.
Xander flushed the toilet, washed his hands and splashed his face, then wet a face towel with warm water and returned to the bedroom. He sat on the bed beside a defeated looking Spike and offered the vampire the wet flannel, “Always helps me after a bad night. Don’t know why really, just does.”
Spike still didn’t look at the brunette, but took the towel with an almost whispered “Taa”, and proceeded to wipe his face of all traces of bloodied tears. When he had finished, Xander took the towel from him and dropped it on the floor then took the hand closest to him and squeezed, “You wanna talk about it?”
Spike gave an ironic snort and began to play with their fingers where they were joined. “Don’t even know where to start mate. ‘s the stupid thing ‘bout dreams, innit. You know it’s all bollocks and pretend-like but that whole bloody thing’s real when you’re in it. All half truths ‘n memories mixed in with regrets ‘n hopes ‘n whatever else. Like the bloody First on acid with some special guests for good measure.”
Xander turned Spike’s hand over where their fingers were still interlinked and started to make small circles with his thumb on the slim lines, keeping his focus down, knowing that any closer scrutiny would be unwelcome. He knew from bitter experience how the vulnerability endured after such nightmares, how discussing or being forced to dissect it with another immediately could simply augment the experience.
Eventually Spike leaned into Xander’s warmth, the brunette belatedly realizing that Spike was becoming increasingly cold as they sat silently in the darkened room virtually naked for many minutes. He leaned down, retrieving the bulk of the duvet from the floor, without dislodging Spike’s position against his shoulder, and wrapped it around them both. Spike’s only acknowledgement of the act was to ease further toward Xander’s heat and rest his head on the strong shoulder.
More minutes passed but were finally interrupted by Xander’s stomach rumbling. Spike sat up pulling away slightly, ‘tsked’ at the noise and finally smiled, saying without any heat to his statement, “Bloody hell you and your bodily functions, pet.”
Xander grinned back and the mood of the last half hour or so dissipated, “Yeah well, eat, drink, excrete and repeat, that’s us humans for you. Next you’ll be telling me you’re not just a little bit peckish, I just hope you woke us up early enough for the breakfast we paid for. I’m sure Sally has crumpets and tea all set up for us downstairs. Come on, let’s get this day started. ”
It was the last half hour of the breakfast service but Sally indeed made them most welcome, and did a little better, serving wonderful eggs and bacon and fresh squeezed orange juice, as well as the customary toast with wide selection of preserves. After the requisite refill of their cups of tea, Xander declared the meal wonderful and they both congratulated the chef. The smiling red head shooed them off to their room with instructions that she would be around most of the day should they need anything, but otherwise they were to have a “jolly old time”.
It was a perfect summer’s day in Oxford, clear, sunny and ideal for walking to the city centre and university. Nothing was said regards nightmares or other troubling matters either at breakfast nor as they stepped out for the day. Xander was wearing a tight white T-shirt, faded blue jeans and runners, Spike almost identical but for the docs on his feet, and the open, long sleeved burgundy shirt pulled on at the last minute. Both carried daypacks, Xander’s containing his swimming gear, whilst Spike had his lightweight laptop, small notebook and a ‘liquid snack’.
Xander kept stealing shy glances at Spike’s profile as they walked. The vampire’s ever-present dark sunglasses obscured his eyes, but even from the side Xander could tell the contents of the dream were still bothering the blonde.
“Do you want to talk about… you know… this morning… the dream, I mean?”
“No.”
“OK, but you can if you want… you know down the track.”
Spike kicked at an imaginary stone. “Yeah, I know… Taa.”
They walked a little further passing by the turn off to the swimming pool Xander was due to visit later in the day. “So what’s with the long shirts and the glasses, I mean, not that it’s not a good look, but I just thought sunshine not an issue and all that.”
“Bright sun hurts my eyes, ‘n don’t fancy a tan.”
Xander abruptly had a vivid image of a pink skinned, sunburned Spike lying nude on *their* bed while he rubbed copious quantities of after sun lotion up and down. He blushed profusely and tried to focus on their surroundings but his body betrayed him. He noted Spike’s smirk as the vampire senses clued in to his thinking. “’Course if I *was* to be all hot ‘n bothered, I have an idea you’d take care of it.”
Xander groaned but couldn’t help returning the suggestive grin he received as they kept walking.
The city centre was busy, particularly the high street which seemed full of backpackers and tourists where normally one would expect predominantly students, but neither man minded as Spike guided them through the throng toward the University and Trinity College.
Xander was reminded of Spike’s extreme age and history as they turned up a narrow alley way into the university proper. While Xander felt like his head was on a swivel admiring the architecture of the buildings and wondering at their age and just who may have wandered the very same path, Spike simply strode on, casually commenting on this or that memory from his time as a student.
They entered Trinity by the side gate and quickly found their way to Jonathon’s office where they were duly welcomed. Spike had already ascertained that Xander would much prefer to spend the next couple of hours exploring the university campus, even contemplating an official guided tour, but there was no need. It seemed that the good professor had ‘worded up’ one of his doctoral students, Richard (Dickie), who was quite happy to show Xander around the university and rendezvous with Rebecca at 1pm for their planned trip to the pool.
Richard stood at least a head taller than Spike, blonde and broad shouldered, giving Xander the odd impression that he was going to spend the day with a direct descendent of a Viking, not at all what he expected of a doctoral student (whatever they were supposed to be like). He gave the man a shy smile as they greeted each other, the look noted by Spike and eliciting a low rumbling growl.
Before the two left, Spike politely excused himself for a ‘quick word’ with Xander, pulling them both outside the professor’s door for a near whispered exchange.
Xander submitted to being led out by the arm, but when they were out of earshot, pulled away looking somewhat annoyed “OK…What’s with the caveman act Spike?”
Spike stood for a moment before replying, “Nothin’, but you going to be OK with him for a few hours?”
“What? Of course, I mean... What? Should I be worried or something? Is that Dickie guy a demon or something?”
“No, nothin’ like that… Just…” Spike backpedalled, not quite able to identify what he was really feeling. He tried again, “It’s just… You’ll be OK… with him, I mean? And at the pool?”
Xander was a little taken aback, and was about to make an angry comment, but thought better of it as he recognized a mixture of worry and something akin to a possessive leer warring in the vampire’s expression. So instead the brunette took a chance and taking Spike’s shoulder, maneuvered him until they were chest to chest. He then looked him directly in the eye before kissing the rather surprised blonde hard.
Pulling back, he simply stated, “There, that answer whatever’s got you all wound up? I’ll be fine! …Look, I’ll see you back at home this afternoon like we said at breakfast, if that’s still OK, ye olde vampire of mine.” Xander smiled through the last statement and released the blonde. Spike took a moment to process what had just occurred and, looking a little abashed, mumbled, “Yeah… course…” He turned to head back into the room, Xander only just hearing the “’m not that old you prat.”
Richard and Xander departed shortly after leaving Spike to his own devices with the professor and three others.
……………………………….
Part 19
Spike watched Xander leave, listening to the polite but friendly exchange between the two men until they were out of even Spike’s extraordinary hearing range. Stamping down his sense of worry and mild jealousy over the boy, he turned his full attention to the room and realized that, though he may have appeared polite, he had been paying very little heed to the introductions to the various guests present. His distraction had apparently gone unnoticed and he mentally shook himself as Jonathon’s final guest stood up and turned to greet him.
“… And this is Emeritus Professor Sir Donald Urquhart, who was the chief librarian of Old Library here at Trinity for as many years as anyone here can remember, amongst other things.”
The silver haired, elderly gent smiled easily as he offered ‘William’ his hand in greeting, and Spike’s eyes went wide with sudden recognition, even more so as he shook the man’s hand.
“William old chap, wonderful to meet you.” The thick Scottish accent was unmistakable, and the wink with implied ‘again’ that went with the handshake was for Spike only, and promised a private conversation later.
Introductions made, all present settled for what was to prove a morning of lively debate and highly engaging conversation covering all manner of current and past research, the dialogue only interrupted by a short break for tea and finally adjourning around two for a late lunch.
As the group made to depart, Sir Donald pronounced the meeting an “absolute delight” and insisted that all present attend a “rare opportunity for a free feed” at his home that evening, friends and family welcome. The invitation was unanimously accepted, with only a couple of good-natured (and obviously expected) jibes regarding haggis and compulsory wearing of kilts for the occasion.
In the end it was only Jonathon and Spike who walked to the nearest pub for lunch, and only after Spike was ‘cajoled’ into a private tour of the Old Library by the emeritus professor, who insisted they meet after he his customary “a wee nap”.
Jonathon was in a fine mood and over a simple Ploughman’s lunch in the beer garden of the pub, regaling his companion with stories of Sir Gordon and his own memories of the man’s apparently ‘terrifying’ guardianship of the library when Jonathon was an undergraduate, and his integral part in the advancement of the History Faculty and Jonathon’s own research career.
Nursing their second round of drinks after lunch, both men sat back in comfortable silence to simply appreciate the sunny day in pleasant surroundings. “So, William, is this trip to England simply a sabbatical, or are you looking to move back here? I, for one, would be happy to put a word in for you to the Academic Board if you wish to offer your services in the coming semester, and I’m sure Sir Gordon would second the nomination, I’ve not seen him quite so ‘taken’ by a newcomer in years. Don’t get me wrong, he is a great friend, but does tend to be a bit ornery in discussions such as this morning, usually takes more delight in shooting down arguments with a well informed pointed comments, than engaging others as he did earlier. His opinion holds a lot of sway with the ‘old guard’, so I’m confident you would be made welcome should you…”
Spike was a little taken aback by the offer and hid his surprise by taking a timely long draft of his beer before answering. Had it been some century and a half previous he would have jumped at the chance. It had always been a secret dream of his to join the intellectual elite, to spend his time researching and writing, cloistered safely and happily in the bosom of academia, able to pursue his passion for poetry and literature. But now? His status as undead was a fairly big impediment, and the fledgling relationship with Xander (and care of the man) his primary concern. But what were his plans beyond the immediate future?
He focused back on Jonathon and replied carefully, “Not that I don’t appreciate the offer, but my return to the ‘old country’ is strictly for personal reasons. I fear family matters must take precedence at this point, though I’ll certainly bear what you’ve said in mind.” When Jonathon’s face fell a little, he quickly added, “Hope that don’t mean I can’t occasionally contribute to the cause and annoy you with my presence down the track.”
He was rewarded with a broad smile, “No, no, of course not! You need but say the word and be assured, I *will* take you up on the offer of an occasional lecture – paid of course – just let me know your availability and consider me in your debt. It will be a rare treat to have one such as yourself addressing my students.”
“I think you’re overdoing it a bit, aren’t you?”
“Not at all. Young, worldly and articulate, you’d have them eating out of your hands, just the sort of thing we need to encourage students away from the Law and Commerce departments.”
Lunch was deemed finished on that high note, and the two men returned to Trinity with Jonathon bidding William farewell at the doors of the Old Library with the promise to pick he and Alex up ‘around seven’ at the B&B for the short trip to the Urquhart’s for dinner.
Xander had left with Richard still wondering at Spike’s proprietary growl, but happy that he had handled the situation (not to mention the rather nice kiss) with a, until recently forgotten, measure of assuredness and maturity. He smiled at Richard and engaged in easy conversation as they wandered around first Trinity College then beyond into other sections of the University proper.
Richard was good company, quickly identifying himself as one of the University Rugby First XV, a ‘reformed’ architecture student who fell in love with the interiors of the buildings he studied and their historical origins, eventually drifting over to doctoral studies in the History department. Xander was amazed how easily their conversation flowed as they wandered Richard including in the commentary tidbits of information regards various film and television productions utilizing the campus; funny side stories including the Trinity vs Balliol College rivalry; and the admission that he was an ‘elite member’ of their Nude Calendar for Breast Cancer crew from the previous year.
When asked about his own interests, Xander managed to give sketchy details only regards his preference for ‘hands on’ experiences beginning in construction and his recent return to the UK after work as ‘a field operative in Africa for an international organization based in Britain’. Despite emphasizing the less than glamorous nature of his Sub Saharan experiences and travels, Richard seemed genuinely impressed, though did not pursue the topic beyond a few questions as he sensed some reticence to share on Xander’s part. “What goes on tour stays on tour” seemed to cover much of the missing information for the intrepid tour guide as the focus turned back to sport and Richard’s travel and career plans for the immediate future.
By one o’clock the pair had completed an enjoyable circumnavigation of the university campus and Xander was delivered to Rebecca’s office door with a little more confidence than the beginning of the day, having managed to last the tour without once resorting to his old ‘goofy Xander’ act when feeling anxious.
After thanks and quick farewells were exchanged with Richard, along with assurances that they would meet again sometime, Xander was ushered downstairs again and followed the rather flustered figure of Rebecca to her car. As they waited to safely pull out onto the road, Xander noted the attractive brunette’s urgent tapping on the steering wheel, so ventured, “You know, it’s really nice of you to take me swimming and all, but if this is a bad time, I’m happy to go it alone.”
The pretty brunette abruptly stopped her nervous fingers and turned to face Xander, “Oh, I’m so sorry! But that would be terrific, it’s just that I’m speaking at a conference in Berlin on Monday next week and the organizers want my powerpoint and video materials by the end of today. I mean I’m almost ready but… Look would you mind awfully if I just drop you off? I know it’s terrible to abandon you like that, especially after I had promised…”
“No problem. The pool is right by where we are staying - five minutes walk max.” Xander tried for his most disarming smile, which seemed to have the desired affect, as Rebecca visibly relaxed and gave a relieved sigh, “Oh thank Ghod! I mean I always try hard to keep my word and I know it’s only an hour or two but…”
Xander was so reminded of a younger Willow that he could not help but grin as the drove out and the young woman continued to chat as they wove in an out of traffic, the young woman chatting cheerfully as quickly as she drove. She insisted on paying for his entry to the facility and waved brightly to him as he disappeared through the gate.
The open pool obviously catered for families and on such a clear summer’s day, was busy with numerous children and parents having a fine time in the leisure section. Xander divested himself of all but his swimming costume and goggles applied, dove into the cool depths of the lap lanes to swim with practiced ease.
An hour or so later found him relaxing on his towel in the bright sunshine, content to bask in the warm sun for a lazy afternoon, only moving for food and the inevitable toilet break. As shadows began to extend across the area, he packed up and walked home via the off-license picking up some much needed sustenance and a six-pack of beer. A leisurely shower later, he settled in front of the television with food and drink to wait for Spike to arrive home. It had been a very enjoyable day and as his thoughts turned to a certain blonde vampire, he reflected on the last few days with Spike, the good memories they held, and the hope for possible future shared experiences.
Sir Gordan was leaning against one of the tall oak bookshelves near the entrance, apparently engrossed in conversation with someone behind the stack but turned as he heard Spike approach. With a broad arm gesture and warm smile, he directed the vampire toward a side door, “William, my boy, welcome back. I’m sure things have changed somewhat since your time here, but let me assure you, I still keep a close eye on the collection and can certainly supply you with anything you need for your research. Now just follow me.” The odd announcement was obviously meant for the academic to whom he had been speaking moments before, so Spike merely nodded and followed the direction.
The small side room was obviously used as a temporary office or ‘breakout room’ for small gatherings and though sparsely furnished, was still brightly lit with two old, yet attractive prints depicting Trinity College and its original Durham heritage hanging on the wall.
The emeritus professor settled himself opposite Spike, leaning elbows on the broad dark wood of the circular table, hands clasped and looking expectant. “Well now, you simply must tell this old fellow exactly how you came to be here in Oxford after all these years.”
Spike pursed his lips then allowed a slight shift to his vampiric visage. When there was no indication of surprise on the old man’s face, Spike grinned and shifted back, “Only if you do the same Sir Gordon. Seems we both have a tale to tell.”
“As it should be, of course. But guests first.”
The remainder of the afternoon was enlightening for both parties, and a solid friendship that had stood the test of more than a century’s absence and change from human status (on Spike’s part) was firmly reestablished.
Sir Donald was a well-known figure on the Trinity Campus even before William appeared on the scene, though it had not occurred to the young gent at the time that his age and longevity of his tenure was anything particularly unusual. What had certainly been apparent to the young scholar, was that he was afforded unusual liberties in the library, and given a great deal of helpful advice by the, even then, somewhat feared and highly respected Professor Urquhart. The young William was often challenged by the professor, had his reading widened and poetry aspirations quietly encouraged, though the two were strictly on a favored student and revered teacher basis. William had, at the time, been blissfully unaware of the professor’s demonic origins, and simply enjoyed the encouragement for what it was, and at a time in his life when a guiding hand and assurance was desperately wanted.
Spike found himself feeling very much akin to the young student he once was as he told the professor of his rather mundane existence and mother’s illness following university, and the date of his turning, though not the particular circumstances. He then brushed over his time with Angelus and company, though felt the professor knew more than he was letting on as he merely nodded at the mention of the Scourge of Europe.
Spike did describe Drusilla, her madness, vulnerability and beauty in loving terms, but found himself strangely detached, realizing as he spoke that she really was a chapter that was permanently closed for him. Angelus being cursed and events following including two wars and post war ‘good times’ with his paramour were mentioned without detail. When it came to Sunnydale, his capture by the Initiative and miserable and dangerous existence leading up to his seeking out his soul met with an audible growl from his elderly audience. But when the First and his consequent voluntary sacrifice to stop the apocalypse, Sir Gordon’s eyes flashed crimson and gold, he stood abruptly and turned away staring out through the small ornate window at the courtyard beyond. Without returning to his chair, he waved his hand and commented for the first time, “I thought as much, go on.”
His return as a ghost, and exploits at Wolfram and Hart that followed, led to the inevitable description of the final battle with the evil law firm hoards, the losses incurred and Angel’s death. Spike was finding it increasingly difficult to keep the emotion from his voice and paused after all but whispering, “Angel’s son, Connor felt his passing and knew what was intended. He was the one who found and rescued me. He’d just lost his real Da, and he still stayed to help me. Right bloody champion, he is… always will be.”
At this last admission, Spike sat with his head bowed staring at his hands and fiddled with the ruby encrusted, Aurelian signet ring he had worn on and since that day, unsure of what more to add.
Sir Gordon retook his seat and reached over to pat Spike’s hand tenderly, “Brothers in battle and brothers by blood. I am sorry for your losses William, but also happy for you that you still have family through Connor, and now your soon-to-be Consort for comfort.”
So caught up in his own thoughts, Spike very nearly missed the last few words. As soon as he processed the statement he pushed back from the table in shock, almost upending his chair in the process. Recovering somewhat, he stared hard at the older man but seeing only a bemused knowing smile, decided it was time for the good professor to tell a few of his own home truths. “Seems not much goes on you don’t know about. But I reckon it’s your turn for show an’ tell. Maybe starting with the not quite human, and incredibly old part.”
“Happy to oblige you, young William.”
Spike rather sheepishly slid his chair back to its rightful position at the table and gave the professor a small smile as the older man took a deep breath and began.