Work Text:
Spoilers: None, but it takes place season 5-ish. (Xander's in the apartment, Spike's got the crypt, Giles owns the Magic Box, Willow and Tara are together, Joyce is alive--but not sick--and Dawn is in existence.)
Merge
by Anatari
// Xander's thoughts //
# Spike's thoughts #
~~ Dreams ~~
(( Memories ))
~~ "Xander, stop him!" Willow's voice rang out, audible even above the roar of wind and growls of fighting. Xander ran at full speed, but still he was too late.
"NO!" He screamed as the shadowed forms disappeared through the barrier. He was too late, couldn't stop it, too weak, too slow. "Willow, don't, maybe I can find him if you hold it a little longer--"
"We have to?" Tara looked pale, exhausted. The light grew between them, and Xander watched as they finished the spell, barrier ripping apart and discharging. Something ripped inside him as well. He fell to his knees on the pavement, a piece of him missing. He felt Willow kneeling beside him, fingers running through his hair, soothing.
And then a cold embrace, a bright light, a voice whispering to him. He answered? but couldn't make out what was being said? "Xander? Come on, Xander! Xander, get up!" ~~
"Whahuh?" He blinked, sitting up in bed and rubbing his face. Anya's annoyed face was hovering over him. Xander groaned. "Yea, An?"
The ex-demon sat on the bed and flicked her //What color is it this week? Brown? Red? Auburn-ish with blond streaks?// Hair over her shoulder. "Xander Harris, it's 10 o'clock."
Xander shrugged. "So? I'm still sleepy, therefore I sleep. There is no such thing as oversleeping. The rest of the world is just way too jittery and awake. I blame it on Starbucks. Now, if you'll excuse me, it's Saturday." He flopped back onto the pillows and rolled over, only to feel a hand on his shoulder, shaking him.
"Xander, wake up! Saturday's when people go shopping!"
"No, Saturday is when *teenagers* go shopping. People with jobs during the week? We sleep. Like this. Watch." He mumbled into the pillow, pulling another one over his ears. It wasn't entirely Anya's fault, he'd just been a lot more tired than usual lately. He already didn't get much sleep, due to work and patrol, but lately the little he did get wasn't very restful. He woke from his dreams feeling panicked and miserable, like a part of him had been torn away and he was empty now.
"But you've been sleeping since you got home from work yesterday. You ate and went to bed. What happened to my orgasms?" Anya was starting to whine now, and he was *not* in the mood.
"Go get them somewhere else, I have a headache."
"You'll apologize for that later." He felt her weight lifting off the bed, heard the door slam a few seconds later. Oh, well. They hadn't had an argument since he had taken in Spike when Giles' friend was visiting, months ago. Another one was bound to happen sooner or later.
Then again, maybe he wouldn't be apologizing.
Xander rolled over, flopping onto his back to stare at the ceiling. He began to count slowly, distracting himself from the turmoil in his head.
//Oooooone sheep, twoooooo sheep, threeeeee sheep, fooooooour sheep? fiii?//
~~ Someone was singing. ~~
*************
Spike took one last drag and flicked the end of his cigarette away. It was a boring night.... Boring and long, with no demons to kill or...
A faint clang in a nearby alley drew his attention from his thoughts. Spike moved quietly towards the darkened space. #With a little luck?.#
He entered the alley and froze, suddenly more interested in watching the action than being a part of it. And watch he did. Spike looked on as Xander, the donut boy, the whelp, the normal, average, everyday human he'd come to know and hate kicked major vampire ass. There were three vamps around him, minions it looked like. Not fledges at any rate.
Xander moved gracefully, kicking, punching and spinning in a style decidedly not his own. In fact, if Spike had had to say who was fighting, just by the moves, he'd have said it was a cross between himself (Spike) and Buffy. Xander's normal fighting style looked more like a girl in a catfight, his punches short and miss-aimed, his kicks weak and sloppy. And Spike had *never* seen Xander spin like that.
Spike was riveted to the fight. The dark-haired human dusted one of the vampires, before spinning around to a second. He kicked out only to have his foot caught by the vampire, who twisted it brutally... a move Spike had used in the past. Xander pushed himself off the ground, letting his entire body twist in midair before landing gently and dusting the surprised vamp. #Someone's been watching the Slayer?#
The third was more wary now, but Xander fixed him with a slightly hungry-looking stare, a challenge. #Alright, so he's been watching me, too?# The third vamp charged and Spike leaned casually against the wall to watch what Xander would do. The human was effectively cornered, back literally against the wall. Spike grinned, knowing exactly what he would-- #Fuck, that's *my* move!#
Spike's mouth dropped open as Xander reared back and charged forward, using his momentum to run right up the wall, flipping and landing behind the vampire. He turned and lashed out with the stake, and number three settled to the ground as ashes.
Pushing off the wall, Spike moved forward, clapping. "Beautiful, whelp. Now, where'd you learn it?" Xander didn't respond, didn't even turn to face him. He just dropped the stake and rubbed at his face, and now Spike could see tear tracks on the human's cheeks.
"Sorry." Xander was staring down at the dust, eyes blank and emotionless, even as his tears fell. "You couldn't have known." With that he turned away from Spike, walking quickly out of the alley, shoulders slumped and head hanging.
Somehow Spike knew that Xander wasn't crying over the vampires.
Somehow he knew that wasn't really Xander.
*************
Xander woke with a start, his heart racing and breath coming in short pants. //I'm really starting to hate this.// He remembered snips from his dream, mainly feelings. Fear changing to panic, then grief. A deep, wrenching sorrow that made him want to curl up and cry like a child. Soft voices and whispered words, tiptoeing around his heart until the cold came? and he was fighting.
He was still tired, muscles aching like he really had been out fighting vamps. He snorted. //If I was actually fighting, I would have a lot more than aches.// he acknowledged gravely, looking over at the clock radio. Bright red number proclaimed it as 3:45 am. He'd slept right through the day and into the night, yet still felt tired.
But he didn't want to go back to sleep.
A little voice in his mind was nagging for him to make a connection... he'd been feeling like this for almost a week, and the dreams were becoming more memorable. And similar. He could almost overlay them on one another, each time building it a little more. He still didn't know what happened in them, but he knew how the occurrences made him feel.
Like there was something missing.
As awful as he felt in the dreams, he also felt complete. In a way where his heart was ripped out and he was left bleeding all over the ground.
But in a good way.
It was as if the dreams had awakened a hunger in him.. and when he was awake, he wanted. Wanted company, love, comfort, everything he'd tried to convince himself he already had. But nothing was enough anymore. There was a piece inside him missing and he wanted it back, wanted it there. And the only time he knew how to get it was in his dreams.
When he was asleep, the pain was worse. Everything was more acute, as if during the day it was happening to someone else--but when he was asleep, it was all happening to him. It was more real, and whoever he was when he was asleep, they knew what to do about it.
//So why don't you fucking tell me what it is already?//
3:58 am.
Xander closed his eyes.
~~ Nononononononononononononononono? it didn't happen, it couldn't have happened?
((A flash as the barrier dissipated, ripping apart. He ripped as well, looking out at what they had done. The demons were gone, true. But?))
Nonononononononononononono? "God, no?"
"Xander? Oh, goddess, I'm sorry we had to?" Willow knelt beside him, a flash of red hair and concerned green eyes. "Xander?"
Xander stared down at the dust he was sitting in. The dust that covered the ground, an inch thick everywhere. He choked back a sob, hands grasping at the fine gray power.
"I don't even know where he is?"
"I? I?" Willow reached out, running her hand through his hair, tangled and dirty. "Maybe I could?" her voice trailed away from her as she began to cry. "Oh god?"
Tara knelt in the dirt beside them, looking helpless. She ducked her head, blond falling like a curtain over her face. Xander jerked his eyes away, but it was too late. A slim hand in his hair, a flash of blond and the tears came, hard and fast and silent. His body shook with the force of his sobs.
(("You have hair, play with your own."
"Yours is thicker." Playfulness in blue eyes, a blond curl falling forward, the curve of that wicked mouth. Xander smiled back, leaning into the touch, content.
"Love you."
"Love you, too, pet."))
Nononononononononononononono? dust.
"M-m-maybe we sh....should get him home."
"Come on, Xander." He felt arms tugging gently at him, speaking softly and holding him softly, as if he would break if they were too forceful. It didn't matter--he was broken already.
(("Xander, stop him!"))
(("Maybe if you can hold it a little longer?"))
(("NO!"))
"Xander? Come back to me..."
~~
Xander woke up again to feel tears on his cheeks--his throat constricted painfully. The apartment felt more empty than ever, and it had absolutely nothing to do with Anya. //Well, they're definitely getting more memorable?// He took a slow breath, and looked at the clock.
7:23 am.
He'd made it through another night? now for the day.
****************
Spike strolled into the Magic Box, scanning the shop quickly. Giles was behind the counter mumbling about inventory. #Typical.# Willow and Tara, sitting close together over a large book, talking in hushed tones. Whether their conversation was about a spell or something else, Spike couldn't tell. #Too bloody cute.#
He looked away, and saw Xander sitting on the couch, looking tired and a little upset. He moved in, sitting right beside the human. Xander looked up and fixed him with a look that screamed 'fuck off.'
"Oh, if looks could stake, eh whelp?"
"I wish they could, 'cuz then you'd be dust." Xander smiled sweetly, but the banter felt empty. Spike frowned.
"You can dust me anyway." Spike shrugged, then raised an eyebrow knowingly. "And you never answered me. Where did you learn all that?"
Xander looked confused. "What the hell are you talking about, Fangless?"
"Last night, alley, three vamps? I don't take well to being ignored."
Xander snorted. "You better learn to, then." He looked back down at the book he'd been reading. Spike growled under his breath.
"Oh no you don't. I want to know how you dusted three vamps, and why--" #Why you were crying like you'd just killed someone else?# "--why you used my moves to do it?" Spike watched as Xander tensed, and something flitted through the human's eyes that he couldn't quite read.
"I think the bleach has seeped into your brain." Xander tried for an insult, but again, Spike felt his mind was elsewhere. Willow and Tara were looking at them oddly now, and Xander shifted, putting the book on the table and standing. "I'm going for coffee. Back in ten."
Spike watched him leave, noting how he almost tripped over his own feet on his way out the door. #What's going on with you, Harris? Last night you put the Slayer to shame and today you can't even walk straight?#
"What did you say to him?" Willow was standing now, fairly close. He blinked. #Get a grip, Spike, you didn't even hear her get up!#
"Nothing, Red, just the usual banter. For once it wasn't me, vamp's honor." He placed his hand over his heart in a mockery of a pledge. Willow's shoulders slumped a little.
"He didn't even insult you back?" Her tone was no longer accusing, more like defeated. Spike shook his head.
"Not even a nibble. 'Fangless' and a comment about bleach." He answered honestly. Maybe Willow knew something?
"That's all?" She sat on the couch beside him, expression worried as she stared at the door. #Alright, maybe she's just as clueless as the rest of us.# Before Spike could respond, the bell over the door sounded.
"Hey guys!" Buffy entered the shop, looking around for a moment. "Where's Xander?"
"Coffee run. He'll be back soon enough." Giles answered, closing his book. "How was patrol last night?"
Buffy shrugged, settling into a seat at the table. "Same old. Nothing around Weston though. I waited around for a good hour and they didn't show."
"Who?"
"There's supposedly three vamps terrorizing the area. Willy said they're around 70 or so, vamp years. Pretty much taking over. But they musta been smart enough not to show."
"Ah. Most likely. Keep looking." Giles adjusted his glasses and came out from behind the counter as Xander re-entered the shop, a takeout tray of coffee in each hand.
#Three vamps in the area around Weston... isn't that where I saw Xander last night? Fighting and dusting three vamps that were obviously smart enough to avoid the slayer and go for the normal human instead?# He looked over at Xander, sitting in an arm chair and sipping his coffee. #Maybe not so normal after all?#
***************
Xander could feel Spike's eyes on him, watching closely. He pushed the second tray over to the vampire. "Yours." The blond raised a scarred eyebrow, but thankfully took the cup and stopped staring. Xander could practically see the gears turning in Spike's head, about the same speed as his own.
How did the vampire know about his dream? Answer: it wasn't a dream. But it was, had to be. He'd woken up in his bed, hadn't he? Could he have been sleepwalking? No, because he couldn't slay when he was awake, let alone when he was asleep. It was that 'I can do it blindfolded' saying, but he couldn't do it sighted.
He looked over at Spike, only to find himself staring right into the vampire's blue eyes. ((Playfulness in blue eyes, a blond curl falling forward)) Xander tore his eyes away, closing them against a memory that was *so* not his own. In his mind's eye he saw a street, black asphalt completely covered in ashes? ((his own hands grasping desperately, trying to salvage... something. Remains of himself?))
His eyes snapped back open and he drained the last of his coffee, heart rate up a few notches. //Alright, relax?//
"Xander?" Giles' voice broke through his thoughts.
"Huh?"
"Xander, the meeting is over. Everyone's left. I thought you had, too. Is something wrong?"
"No, just zoned out. See ya later, G-man."
Giles rolled his eyes at the nickname but humored the brunette. "Goodnight Xander. Get some rest, you look tired."
//You have no idea?// "I will." He left the shop, heading for home. //Great, now I'm losing time. Either I've entered the Twilight Zone or I've been abducted by aliens.//
Xander entered his apartment, closing and locking the door behind him. "Then again, this *is* Sunnydale." He murmured, heading for the bathroom.
(2)
Spike reclined in his chair, fanning his cards out in front of him. Good hand, yet again. He reached into the bag he'd brought along, depositing a second kitten in the basket. "Raise ya one." He smirked at the glares he received. They all thought he cheated. Most of the time he did--they all did, they were demons. But tonight, he was just lucky.
"See, up two." A scaly blue demon at the opposite side of the table grunted, placing three kittens in the basket. #Someone could use hooked on phonics, mate.# Two demons folded.
The game continued, whittling the table full of players to three. Spike, blue-scales, and another vampire with Asian features, who was looking nervous. "No more." He announced loudly, slapping his cards facedown on the table.
Spike glared at his opponent. "Whatcha got?"
The demon gave a smile that looked more like a snarl. "Flush." He spread his cards out on the table.
"Ooooh... ouch... so close?" Spike smirked, laying his cards out in a similar fashion. "Full house. Read 'em and weep." He stretched out, three jacks and two queens smiling proudly up at the table. Multiple demons cursed as Spike reached for the basket.
"Cheat." The blue demon pounded his fist on the wooden table. "You cheat."
Spike shook his head. "Not tonight I didn't. Search me, count the cards, I'm clean." He held up his hands in a dismissive manner, before standing up.
"Cheat." Blue-scales repeated vehemently. His fist smashed into the tabletop, breaking off pieces of wood? pointy pieces of wood. "Vampire cheat."
#Uh oh... he may not speak much English, but the point is definitely clear..# Spike backed up as the demon stood, raising himself to at least six and a half feet. The vampire blinked, noting the considerable bulk he hadn't seen when they were sitting. #Okay.... so he's a foot taller and twice as wide. So you don't know how to kill 'im... you can still run.#
He sidestepped the rest of the players and darted around what was left of the table. He reached for the doorknob and ducked as a shard of wood came flying at him. #Shit shit shit#
Spike made it down the hallway and into the main area of Willy's, the bar. He was halfway to the door when he felt a massive hand close around his neck, lifting him off the ground.
"Vampire cheat." Blue-scales growled right in his ear.
#Oh. Fuck.#
*****************
Xander tossed in his sleep, hands fisting in the sheets. To a casual observer, it might appear as if something was trapped inside him, struggling to take control. The casual observer would be correct.
~~ (("Xander, please... eat something. It'll get better, but starving yourself won't help."
"Can you get him back?"
"We've been through this. He was a vam--"
"Then it won't get better. It'll never get better."
"Is your claim mark fading?"
"No. I don't want it to."
"Xander, he isn't coming back, just let it go."
"I can't, Wills. How would you feel if Tara died?"))
Xander sat in his apartment, staring at the boxes and boxes of things that reminded him of Spike. Black clothing, cigarettes, ashtrays, boots, the large mug Spike had used--still bloodstained... the things the vampire had bought for him over the years. Anniversary presents, birthday gifts, gag gifts, just-because stuff, things for the apartment...
The only thing he couldn't bring himself to put in the box was his ring, the silver eternity band with the name 'Spike' engraved on the underside. The vampire had worn an identical (if smaller sized) band with 'Xander' on it.
(("Xander, he isn't coming back, just let it go.")) He ripped the ring off, throwing it to the floor. Grief tore through him again, and he curled up, squeezing his eyes shut.
"I love you." He whispered to the emptiness, his gut clenching. Willow was right, Spike was a vampire. God knows where an unsouled, essentially evil creature went when they died. Everything pointed to Hell, but Xander couldn't even entertain that thought.
Besides, Spike had loved, been loved, fought for the good? he could only hope that was enough to make up for 120+ years of cruelty... hopefully the bond was enough. It had been in place for nearly 8 years--their anniversary was in another month.
Eight years ago he had been made complete? and now he was torn apart again.
"Why didn't that damn spell work? Why am I still here?" He sobbed brokenly, his tears hitting the hardwood floor Spike had insisted on for the dining room.
(("You can't carpet a dining room, Xander, forget it."
"Linoleum then?"
"Oi, no! I'm a fucking Victorian, we didn't *have* linoleum. I want one room my way, you promised."
"Alright? I can do it myself I guess... they're putting it in on one of the new houses, maybe I can get someone to show me."
"Mmmm? there's my Xan. Carpet in the living room then?"
"Don't I get any linoleum?"
"Of course, in the kitchen. But you have to show me the color first."
"You mean no purple?"
"No."))
He ran his hand over the glossy wood finish, remembering how wary Spike had been to even enter the room once he'd begun. Pieces of wood everywhere?
(("It's a bloody stakefest in here!"
"You wanted hardwood, I'm giving you hardwood."
"You give me that every night."
"Spike, come on and help..."))
They'd done it together, and once Spike had gotten over the initial fear of handling so many pointed wooden pieces, things had gone quite smoothly. And the vampire had always been proud of it, telling every guest they had exactly how it was done. The first thing they'd done together as a couple?
Xander pushed himself up off the floor, wiping his face and reaching for his ring. He jammed it back on his finger, leaning back against the wall. So weak, couldn't bear to part with it, the last thing he had left... He closed his eyes again, not noticing the white light that shone through the
room as a tear hit the ring? ~~
Xander woke up slowly, coming into awareness with a bleary yawn--it felt like he'd been asleep for days. He rubbed at his face, sitting up in bed. He felt a pang of sadness as he realized that yet again, he was waking up alone. And probably would be for the rest of his life.
Blinking, Xander looked around the room. Things were--[[Uh oh...]] He stumbled from the bed, nearly tripping over a pair of pants. This wasn't his apartment. Well, not anymore. He'd moved out of here right after he and Spike?
Xander looked down at his hand--no ring. He ran to the closet--Hawaiian shirts and baggy cargoes. He opened his bedroom door, crossed the apartment to the kitchen, and opened the fridge. No blood bags. Anxious now, Xander ran a hand through his hair... which was still shaggy but much shorter than normal.
[[Oh god... did it work? It sure as hell took long enough... and I'm pretty sure this isn't what was supposed to happen? Is this another dimension or am I just back in time? Maybe we weren't specific enough. Second chance with someone else maybe? No, we were specific, but then why am I in my old apartment, and why don't I have my ring and why am I still wearing those ugly shirts?]]
Xander looked at the clock. 1:18 am. [[I need a drink.]]
Soon enough he was sitting in Willy's, nursing a larger-then-average glass of JD. He'd always hated hard liquor, but Spike used to taste of it. Whiskey and smoke, whenever he came home. Now drinking it was almost a comfort. Smoking still made him hack, though.
He didn't like the way the demons were looking at him, like he was lunch. They hadn't looked at him like that in years, not since he became a Master's consort. The last real fight he remembered getting into was against three vamps who didn't seem to acknowledge his claim. They just launched at him, and he dusted them easily.
Maybe since his mate was dead, demons couldn?t sense it anymore. They probably had no way of knowing?
"Hey, watch it!"
"Stupid vampire?"
"What the FUCK?"
Xander's head snapped up in the general direction of the disturbance. He heard a door burst open, and two figures came barreling out of the hallway that led to the bathrooms and poker room. He watched the black-clad blur with mild disinterest.
Small guy, most likely a vampire. About to get his ass kicked by a rather large Kralon demon. He was turning back to his drink when the large blue-scaled demon caught the vamp, lifting him easily by the neck.
Xander saw a flash of blond hair, recognized the dull black shine of the coat as leather? "Vampire cheat." The demon snarled, and fuck if that didn't sound like something Spike would be invo--[[oh my god]]
It was Spike, hanging painfully in the demon's grip with his patented 'I'm in deep shit' expression on. Tears pricked in Xander's eyes, and he tossed his head back in a silent 'thank you' to whoever had put him here.
[[It worked, I can't believe it worked, a little slow, but it worked?]] His litany was cut off Abruptly as he saw the Kralon raise a piece of wood, pointing it at the vampire's chest.
"No!" He screamed, drawing the massive demon's attention. Xander launched himself up in one of the moves Buffy had taught him before she'd died, catching the demon right under the chin. His head snapped back and he released Spike, who kicked brutally.
"Fucker." He croaked. "I *didn't* cheat! Xander come on, we have to get out of here."
Xander's legs shook a little. [[It's really him... god, to hear his voice again.]] Spike was looking at him oddly. "Huh?"
"Xander, what the bloody hell? I don't know where you learned that, but we have to go."
Xander frowned. "Same person who taught you." The demon was up again, advancing on Spike. [[Kralon, Kralon... uh;;; got it.]] Xander tossed the blond the piece of wood. "Lower abdomen, his right!"
He watched in a daze as Spike stabbed the demon where he'd been told, and the Kralon fell to the floor, dissolving into blue goo and scales. Spike leaned against the wall, eyes wide.
"Alright, out. Both of you out. I didn't like him, but now I have to clean this fucking mess. Spike, you ain't getting no kittens tonight." Willy waved his cloth around, in the general direction of the door. Xander nodded at the greasy little bartender, and headed for the door, waiting outside for Spike.
**********************
Spike ignored Willy and rushed out after Xander. He was getting answers, and he was getting them now. He burst out the door, expecting Xander to have run off home. So he was shocked when he found himself pressed against the wall, a warm human effectively blanketing him.
"Thank God, Spike... Fuck, I love you so much and you're back or maybe I'm back I'm not sure but you're alive and it worked, it really worked?"
Spike listened, confused, as Xander mumbled nonsense against his neck, mouthing the sensitive spot below his ear. It was incredibly distracting. "Harris, really now, le---" He was cut off by warm lips on his.
#Whoa, what the fuck is he *on*?# His instincts said to pull away, that Xander was possessed or something. But there was so much emotion in the kiss... Xander was attacking his mouth with such a passion that Spike couldn't help but kiss back. When the human finally pulled away to breathe, his eyes were glittering with unshed tears.
A warm hand stroked down the side of his face. "I can't believe it...."
Spike shook himself out of his stupor and caught Xander's hand, pushing the human's body an arms length away. He looked the larger man up and down, frowning. #Looks like Xander, smells like Xander, sounds like Xander... but sure as hell doesn't act like Xander.#
"Who the bloody fuck are you and what have to done with the whelp?" Spike narrowed his eyes, but his glare wavered as Xander's expression wilted.
"You haven't called me that for a decade..." Xander's eyes searched Spike's face, and the vampire was beginning to lose patience.
"I called you that yesterday when I saw you fighting off three vampires with moves you couldn't have possibly done. And you ignored me. And pretended you had no idea what I was talking about tonight at the meeting. And why the *fuck* are you at Willy's drinking *whiskey*? You didn't even drink the wine Rupes put out at Thanksgiving! And what. Was with. The kissing?!?!?"
Spike ranted at Xander mercilessly, not noticing the shift in the human's demeanor.
"It didn't work." Xander sounded tearful, his arm limp in Spike's grasp. He looked up at Spike almost desperately. "Can't you feel the claim? Look. It's me!"
#Alright, he's really gone 'round the bend...# "Right, Harris... someone needs some Prozac. The day you get claimed is the day I get a soul." Spike rolled his eyes and went to move away, but Xander shoved him back against the wall.
The human's voice wavered a little as he spoke, but the words held a conviction of someone absolutely sure of himself. "I *am* legal, I'm 31 years old. You claimed me as Consort eight years ago. We're mated, bonded, whatever you feel like calling it. I wear your mark, your ring, your scent... *You* taught me how to fight, remember? Please, Spike... we were fighting the
Oleisa? And you got--"
"Oleisa? Now I *know* you've lost it. Temporal demons? You can't fight them, you vanquish them. With an elemental." Spike grinned smugly. He didn't know what Xander was playing, but he had obviously gotten his facts mixed up.
"I know. Willow and Tara were doing the spell, and you got pulled out of the barrier... it dusted you... and the... the enchantment we put on the claim--I thought it didn't work but it did because you're here--"
Spike interrupted again. "Ah, I was always here, didn't get dusted. You're only 19, and I never claimed you, let alone put an enchantment on you. I'm not wearing any bloody rings, and you *don't* have a claimant mark."
Xander's hand flew to his neck, and he took a few steps back. "We're not mated?"
"No, we're not. And never will be." He waved his hands between them. "Mutual hatred here, remember? Now stop stealing my moves, stop playing dumb, and stop with the fucking joke." He punctuated each 'stop' with a poke to the chest. "It isn't funny, whelp."
"Hate... no, I.... oh God..." Xander looked around frantically. "Where am I?"
Spike had a snappy comeback ready, but the brunette looked truly lost, and it faded on his lips. "Xander, go home. Get some sleep, sober up."
Xander looked up at him, nodding weakly. #He looks like someone killed his puppy...# "Yea, uh... sorry..." He turned and began moving down past the docks, refusing to meet Spike's eyes.
"Xander!" The human turned around, and Spike blinked at the hope he found shining in those deep brown eyes. #Fuck, when did I start noticing his eyes? Abort, abort!#
"Yea?"
"You live the other way, lackbrain."
And the light was gone just as quickly as it had appeared. Xander hung his head, turning in the opposite direction. "Oh. Right. Still on Grove?" he mumbled, walking quickly away.
Spike stood, watching Xander's back as it faded into the distance... he couldn't see Xander going so far just to freak him out... and if it was all an act, the human deserved a bloody Oscar, Emmy, whatever it was nowadays.
#So he's drunk, decided to get into the joke?#
Things didn't add up. Even if he *was* just doing it all for laughs, the story was elaborate and drastic. Xander had *kissed* him, looking genuinely happy about it. And the drunkenness didn't explain the sudden fighting skills, or the sudden knowledge of demon anatomy. Even *he* hadn't recognized blue-scales as a Kralon...
Once again, somehow Spike knew that it wasn't really Xander walking away from him.
So who was it?
CHAPTER 3
***********************************
PLEASE NOTE: Some people have asked that I make the distinction between the Xanders clearer. So from now on and in all future archived versions:
This reality's Xander: Xander
Alternate-reality Xander: Xan
Spike WILL NOT make this distinction until he's aware of the situation.
*************************************
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP?
//Shut up.// Xander extended a hand to hit the alarm clock, but found himself swiping at the air.
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP?
//Alright, I heard you, I'm awake already!// He stretched his arm further, but still found nothing. //Aw, come on you fucking?// He rolled over in an effort to get closer to the nightstand.
Thunk. //Ow.//
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP?
Xander sat up, rubbing his hip where it had made contact with the floor. //Bloody hell, how close was I to the edge of the bed?// He blinked once. //Did I just use the phrase 'bloody hell'? Oh boy?// He shook his head and forced his body into a standing position?
And noticed that he was fully clothed and nowhere hear his bed. In fact, he was in the middle of the living room. He'd rolled off the couch and onto the floor. //Why the hell was I--//
BEEP BEEP BEEP BEEP?
Groaning at the high pitched sound, Xander headed into his bedroom, ignoring his stiff and aching muscles. //What the fuck did I *do* last night?// He shut off the blaring alarm clock and sat on his bed, shoulders slumped to ease some of the tension in his back. He felt wound up and edgy.
Somehow he doubted it was from sleeping on the couch.
//Speaking of sleep, how little did I get? And I don't remember drinking last night, so why am I dressed and smelling like alcohol and sleeping on the couch?// Xander rubbed his face, feeling exhausted and slightly hung over. //God, I'm losing my mind?//
BEEP BEEP BEE------------ CRASH!
Xander dropped his arm back to the sheets, clenching his hand in them reflexively. He stared at the now broken alarm clock, lying in pieces on the floor, a memory emerging from the corner of his mind.
(("Xan, you have to stop." Concerned green eyes, red hair. A dustpan full of bloody glass and circuitry.
"Go away." I won't take anymore sympathy? I'm not the one who died.
"No. I won't. You can't keep doing this." Tiny hands, warm and steady, bandaging my own. Mine are cut and bleeding, red smearing on her pale skin. I can't take this anymore.
[[Why won't you just let me bleed?]] ))
Xander squeezed his eyes shut against the wave of grief that hit him. These dreams were positively less dreamlike. "Who are you and why are you in my head?" His voice was practically a whimper, raw and broken, like he had been crying.
He cleared his throat, padded back into the living room, and called in sick for work.
***
Spike paced his crypt restlessly. He'd wound up back in the cemetery at around five, the events at Willy's still making his head spin. Why couldn't anything in Sunnydale ever make sense?
#He's lost his bloody mind, that's the only explanation for it. He's finally gone 'round the bend--all these years on the Hellmouth, reading about the supernatural, fighting it? he's gone mad.#
With a sigh, Spike wandered over to the fridge, taking out a blood bag and ripping a small hole.
#He didn't *seem* mad, though? maybe it's some kinda spell. Or a demon.# Spike drained the bag, grimacing. #No, I woulda sensed something like that.# He tossed the bag away and leaned against the cool stone wall.
((Xander, warm body pushing him against the brick wall of the Alibi. The feel of hot hands on his hips, chest, face? touching in all the right places, kissing like he knew exactly which buttons to push?))
Spike jerked away from the wall, shaking off the memory. #That's it. I'm finding out exactly what the fuck he's up to.# In a huff, Spike headed down to the sewer tunnels.
The trip to Xander's was short and uneventful. Spike came up in the casement of the apartment, shaking the murky water off his boots. It only took him a few seconds to get up to the main building and find Xander's apartment. 4-C.
He raised his fist to knock and paused, the though occurring to him that it pulled a stiff piece of wire out of his pocket and opened the door with a few deft flicks of his wrist.
The apartment was quiet, shades drawn and light off, making things surprisingly dark. Spike noted the disarray of papers on the table, the rumpled blankets on the couch, the clothes messily dropped onto the recliner. #Whelp's getting messy, isn't he?#
Pushing the blankets on the couch to the floor, Spike flopped down, sprawling his legs. "Alright, I can wait. He's got cable?" he said to himself, reaching for the remote on the coffee table. His hand was halfway there when he heard a noise from somewhere in the apartment.
#Did Harris get a cat?# Spike frowned at the noise, a cross between a whimper and a cry, almost animalistic.
Remote forgotten for the time being, Spike stood and looked around. He didn't see anything pet-like in the immediate vicinity?
Another sound, more like a moan this time, distinctly coming from the hallway off the room he was in. Yea, definitely a moan. Maybe Xander was home after all?
"No, I'm not that lucky?" Spike shook his head, but wandered down the hallway anyway. Three doors. Closet. Bathroom. And a cracked-open door that was probably the bedroom.
"Then again, maybe I am?" He pushed lightly, the door falling open with little more than a soft creak of hinges.
Xander was curled up on top of the covers of the bed, fully clothed and clutching a pillow. Even from the doorway Spike could see the tear tracks on the human's face, the way his hands fisted in the sheets, the tension in hunched shoulders. For a second he had a thought that this was bigger than an obnoxious human prank.
The thought only lasted that second.
#What the bloody fuck am I doing? I came for answers, not to offer him a bloody therapy session.#
He slammed the door, grinning in satisfaction as Xander jerked awake, looking at him with sleep-clouded eyes. The frightened look mingled briefly with something Spike couldn't identify, then turned into annoyance.
"How did you get in and what do you want?" Xander stared up at Spike, not bothering to straighten his hair or clothes. It bordered between cute and disturbing, but it could have just been disturbing because Spike found it cute? Yea, that was probably it.
"The invite a few months back was to 'your place', not the basement." Spike explained, leaning against the wall casually. "And I want to know what kind of a stunt you're trying to pull."
"Stunt?" Xander blinked comically. "You sneak into my apartment--my bedroom--and accuse *me* of pulling a stunt?" he asked in disbelief.
Spike glared at him. "Don't you pull this again. You can't just?" he waved his hand in frustration. "Do you really expect me to believe? I don't even know! That you're possessed? Or you're a split personality where the other Xander comes out at night? Oh, I've got it. This one's good." He leered at the human, stalking closer. "Aliens! That's what it is! They're projecting into your body to see what it's like to fuck with a vampire. Is that it, Harris?"
Xander flinched back, but made a quick if unconvincing recovery. "You lost me, Fangless. What happened, you got zapped one time too many? Chip finally fried your brain?"
Spike bit back a growl. "Don't toy with me, Harris." Xander was shifting uncomfortably, looking everywhere but at him. "If it's not a prank, tell me what the bloody fuck is going on with you."
"My life is none of your business, Spike." Xander spat, his discomfort giving way to anger. "Now get--"
"It is so!" Spike interjected. "It is *so* my bloody business when it involves *me!* Isn't that the definition of 'my business'? Or maybe it's not me, I must be imagining things. Things like you, shoving me against a wall. But come to think of it, you and Anya haven't been so cuddly lately. So you figure you'll go off, release some tension... and I'm the first thing you see, huh?"
He glared at Xander, knowing his accusation was ridiculous. But he was pissed off, goddamn it. And he hadn't gotten any sleep yet. Spike shook his head. It was obvious Xander and Anya had broken up, her stuff was gone--cheap shot but true. The rest? utter dribble.
#And then all the alcohol? Which is probably why he's not at work.# Spike mused. Plus, Xander was straight. And hated him. Two points he'd been dwelling on an awful lot lately.
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Xander was standing now, looking slightly worried.
Spike shot the human a look of disgust. "Stop it already. You. Me. Demon. Willy's. A nice brick wall. Must I fill in the other blanks, or is your hung-over little brain starting to connect the dots?"
"Spike, get out." Xander sounded nervous now, his voice shaking a little as he spoke.
#Oh yea. Got him.# "I thought I made this clear, whelp. I'll leave when you tell me what?s happening." He gave Xander a smug grin, crossing his arms in an 'I'm waiting' manner.
"No. Nothing is happening. Therefore nothing to tell you about, so you can *leave,* alright?" Almost desperate now, the words tinged with hysteria.
Spike stared the brunette down, not accepting the obvious lie.
"Fine. Stay. *I'll* leave. Impotent bastard?" Xander stormed out of the room. Spike frowned, thought about following. He looked back at the bed, weighing the merits of sleep on an actual mattress with getting his explanation. The door to the apartment slammed.
#Nah, won't be following.# He shrugged off his duster and slid under the still-warm sheets.
***
Xander sat on a park bench about two blocks from his apartment building, head in his hands. He felt less tired than before, but as the adrenaline of the argument wore off, he was feeling achy and nauseous.
Emotions from the interaction still swirled through him, plus the lingering ones from his dream. He remembered this one clearly--they had been less fuzzy over the past few days. He'd pieced together the events, but this last dream told him the people, too.
Willow, Tara, himself.
And desire. A need, a hunger he'd never known he'd had. Something precious being torn away from him.
Spike.
The thought of Spike made his stomach twist violently, threatening to bring up whatever was in his stomach. He lay back on the bench with a groan, steeling himself against memories that weren't his. And yea, he called them memories now--they fit together too well to be anything else.
//Maybe my apartment is on top of some dimensional rift and I'm channeling someone else when I sleep? Someone else who's got a thing for Spike?//
Things were getting much too confusing for Xander's taste. The already blurry lines between his dreams and reality were officially smeared into unintelligibility, and all he could feel now was frustration, not entirely his own. It was like he'd lost control of himself somewhere along the way, as he was dragged through a minefield of someone else's pain. Pain that not only enhanced his own, but mirrored it in some way. It was effecting his life and relationships horribly.
He'd begun to pull away from his friends, both the gang and his work buddies. He almost never went out anymore, but no one seemed to be noticing, so who really cared? He was always tired, never hungry, grieving in ways he'd never known he could? and would never fully understand, because it wasn't his grief, wasn't his loss. He was just feeling it, associating with it.
*NOT* expressing it in any way. They were just dreams, they weren't really happening.
Spike must have been in his apartment the night before //'Cuz he can get in. I have to get Willow to do an un-invite spell.// and overheard his dream. He'd been known to talk in his sleep. And trust the bleached menace to capitalize on someone else's pain for fun, since he couldn't cause it himself.
//Manipulative mother fucking bastard. Deserves an Emmy, though.// Xander shifted on the bench, savoring the heat of the sun on his body. And no, he wasn't sitting in the sun just so that Spike couldn't get to him. Because *that* would be paranoid. He let out a long sigh, feeling the tension draining out with the air.
Anger and annoyance. Two familiar emotions, ones he easily and comfortably associated with Spike. Simple, safe, uncomplicated emotions.
//Never thought I'd be so happy to be angry.// He giggled a little, his eyes drifting closed as he relaxed. He was still tired, and no one in Sunnydale would look twice at him if he slept a little. Even if they did, he wouldn't care. Xander let himself slip into darkness, letting the sun chase away his dreams.
***
~~ "I still don't understand what went wrong." Willow rubbed her forehead in frustration, no doubt feeling Xan's eyes boring into the back of her scull.
"Well look harder. There must be some sort of loophole, or maybe we could do it again even though?" he trailed off, hands digging into the arms of the chair weakly. Weakly because he was in some sort of withdrawal... Without Spike's blood in his veins, his body wasn't able to function.
It seemed redundant to him. As soon as his mate died, he'd shut down completely emotionally and mentally. Why wouldn't his body want to follow suit? [[Why wouldn't it want to follow Spike?]]
"Xan, I'm sorry, there's no way now." Sad green eyes looked up from the book. "I think the spell only works if *you* die. 'I shall be brought through time and space to find; the one who holds my lover's mind. No task too daunting or pain too great; I cast this spell to seal my fate.' The mechanics are fairly specific, Xan. It's meant for a human, or at least a souled creature. If you had died, your soul would have entered another body, and Spike would have found you."
Xan grit his teeth in frustration, holding the casting crystal in his hand. "Then why isn't it glowing? It's supposed to be fucking leading me to him, what went wrong?"
Tara saw the anguish on her lover's face, and took over. "Because he didn't have a soul." She stated gently. Xan just blinked at her, and she sighed. "He was a demon, all that technically existed was his body. The spell would have sent the dead mate's essence into another body? but Spike didn't have a soul? no essence to send. That's why it didn't work."
"How the *fuck* can you say he was just a body?" Anger flooded him, directed at nothing in particular. At the spell. At the demons. At the situation. At his own uselessness. [[No, not useless, Spike always told me I wasn't useless? not gonna forget him, not gonna forget that?]]
The anger broke into grief and the tears came, fast and hard and quiet, for what seemed like the millionth time. A warm hand on his shoulder, meant to comfort. Something he would never feel again.
"He wasn't just a body, Xander. But he *was* a vampire, no matter how often we all forgot." Tara soothed, her voice low as if she was taming a wild animal.
[[We did forget. We forgot all the time. He always acted so human, even his demon face seemed normal to me. The biting? just another part of the man I loved. How could we forget he was a vampire?]] He wiped his tears away. [[Some people have skeletons in their closet, I had blood in my fridge.]]
"Then why do the acceptable pairings list a vampire and human?" Xan stared straight ahead, eyes unseeing as he clutched the crystal. He ignored the rasping thickness of his voice.
"Because the humans are usually the ones that die first. Vampires will always run rather than fight, their loyalty is practically non-existent. To think that a vampire would die for a human mate?" Willow shook her head. "Vampires are greedy. They might love their mate, but if there's a way for their human to die and come back, rather than risk their own unlife? they'll take it. Spike was different, Xan. You weren't just his pet."
"I know." ~~
***
Xan winced. There was an uncomfortably bright light shining right in his eyes, and he must have moved in his sleep, seeing as the couch cushions were no longer under him. He sat up, and quickly realized that he was outside, in the daytime, on a park bench.
[[Well this is different.]] He stood, trying to find a place to stick the 'you are here' pin on his internal map of Sunnydale.
"Alright. I'm positive that I went? home?" [[not my home not my home not my home?]] "And I *know* I went to sleep on the couch. Now, I'm about half a mile away from my apartment, and sleeping on a bench. At?" he consulted his watch. "Around two in the afternoon. What. The. Fuck?"
He took a deep breath and started walking back to the apartment, glad to hear the familiar jingle of keys in his left jacket pocket. Stating the situation out loud hadn't helped, he was still completely confused. But hearing his voice calmed him a little, made things a little more real.
It felt as if he'd been losing time? and didn't that sound like an abduction report? Only instead of weird aliens with big heads and spindly arms, he'd been seeing? stuff. Stuff that had to be dreams. But if it was all lost time and dreams, he hadn't really been aware of himself since?
[[No, not talking about that night. It didn't happen.]] He walked faster, the apartment building in sight now.
[[Maybe I should call Willow and Tara, I haven't checked in for awhile. Maybe have them check the crystal again--]] he stopped that thought train immediately. [[I'm not there anymore.]] He reminded himself. He was someplace where?
[[I'm not thinking about this now.]]
Pulling the keys out, Xan entered the building, headed up the stairs, and opened his apartment door. "Yup, just as I left it?" he sighed, tossing his jacket and the keys onto the table, heading for the kitchen. His back hurt, he had a slight headache, and he was hungry.
***
Spike opened his eyes blearily at the sound of a door closing. #Xander's back then.# he acknowledged. He considered getting up, trying to sneak out. Then he considered getting up, confronting the human again.
The fridge door opened, followed by the sound of the stove turning on and water running. Spike yawned and rolled over. #Seeing as he isn't heading in here, I'll just nap until he kicks me out.# He pulled a second pillow over and curled around it, falling back to sleep almost immediately.
***
After two eggs, four slices of toast, two glasses of juice, an Advil and a shower, Xan was feeling human again. He had realized about halfway through the third slice of toast that he was wearing the same clothes as the night before. And they smelled like it.
He had felt a little stab of grief when he saw the Pert Plus bottle sitting on the shelf. He'd been using separate shampoo and conditioner ever since Spike had started living with him, almost 10 years prior, in this very apartment. And the towel around his waist now was white. When was the last time he'd used white towels? Answer: 10 years ago.
(( "Xan, what the bloody fuck?" Spike's voice, loud and obviously upset about something.
"What, Spike? I swear to God, when I asked you to move in with me, I didn't think you'd be such a girl about the place." He grumbled good-naturedly, following the sound of his sorta-kinda boyfriend's voice to the bathroom. The blond was holding a towel, grimacing in disgust.
"White? Why on *earth* would you have sodding white towels? I'm not going to be the one to scrub blood out of these. Or some weird demon goo that'll get tracked home. Or--"
"Spike?"
"What?"
"They're white because that's what was on sale at Wal-Mart when I was moving in here. You don't like it, get your own." Xan shook his head and left the room, settling down on the couch to watch TV.
Three days later Spike came into the apartment, a little earlier than usual. He was carrying three bags and wearing an annoyed expression. "The lines in that place will kill you." He commented, moving swiftly to the bathroom. Xan followed, only to get hit with a projectile white hand towel.
"Spike, what are you doing?" he tried to sound pissed, but Spike was bending over in a very appealing manner?
"Redecorating." The vampire stated. "You told me to get my own, so here." He tossed the last white towel out of the bathroom and began pulling things out of his bags. Hand towels, washcloths, bathmats, and big fluffy body towels.
Xan watched, amused, as Spike folded and hung up the terrycloth pieces. They'd be on the floor after Spike's next shower, he knew for a fact. But for now, the blond had hung them all. Two different shades of blue, navy and sky, arranged in an alternating pattern that somehow made the room look bigger.
"Oh my god."
"What? It's just towels." Spike snorted, tossing the bags carelessly away and leaning into the shower.
"You bought towels. And folded them. True, you threw all the old stuff on the floor and have absolutely no intention of picking them up? but you bought towels." Xan stared at the bathroom a moment longer, until he noticed Spike was still leaning into the shower. "What are you doing now?"
Xan blinked as Spike shoved a green bottle at him and left the bathroom triumphantly, stepping over the mess of white towels and bags. Xan peeked into the shower-- two bottles sat on the tiny shelf beside his razor: shampoo and conditioner. Separate.
"Spike? Why did you buy shampoo? I have." He waved the Pert in his hand.
"Bloody 2 in 1 crap. You have thick hair, you need real conditioner. M'sick of my fingers catching." Spike answered from the couch, sprawled with his boots still on.
Xan sighed. "I had to move in with the Martha Stewart of vampires?"
"I heard that!" ))
Yea, he'd thought that was pretty demanding. But he'd done it anyway. And later, when they'd gotten their apartment together, most things had been done the way Spike wanted. Not that he was a pushover, the vampire just had better taste for those things.
Xan swallowed hard against his memories, pulling the towel tighter around his waist and exiting the bathroom in a cloud of steam. He checked to make sure he wasn't dripping, then headed for the bedroom. His bare feet made almost no sound on the carpeted hallway, and the door to the bedroom was already open.
[[That's weird, I usually close that door whe--]] he froze in the doorway, his mouth falling open at the sight before him.
It was the same room he remembered, blank walls and pastel carpeting, bed off to the right and dressed in horrendous paisley sheets. Yup, the same but for one small fact.
Spike was sleeping in his bed.
END PART 3