Two's Company
Part 3
Spike grabbed his beer, scowling heavily as some drops splashed his hand. He was in a black mood, which wasn't helped by the pounding in his head, a leftover from last nights drinking session. He *hated* this. It had been a long time since Spike had had a crush on someone, and even longer since it had been on someone so totally oblivious to him. He'd forgotten how crap it felt; the prospect of staying in bed for some serious moping had been pretty strong. The only reason he was at the Bronze now was because he flat out refused to stay in a dark room and brood, it was just too 'Angel'. Besides he needed some hair of the dog that bit him. Last night after leaving Xander's place where he and Anya were probably shagging like rabbits he'd gone to Willy's and gotten *seriously* hammered. He had a vague memory of slinging his around Willy's shoulder and declaring emotionally that Willy was his best friend and if he had a sister he'd want Willy to marry her. He then 'delighted' the bar by doing an impromptu rendition of Britney Spear's 'Crazy' thinking of Xander all the while, before breaking down and wailing nobody had ever loved him and he was going to die alone. He had no recall at all of how he'd gotten home, but had woken with a monster hangover to find himself curled up in bed with a pink feather boa around his neck and embracing a large cuddly-toy hippo, neither of which Spike was entirely sure what to make of.
He had to get over this! Xander Harris was seriously messing him up. But ... he wanted him. He wanted him so *much* and it wasn't fair to feel like this, without even having a shot at getting what he wanted. Jealousy was attacking him, twisting around in his gut like a knife, and try as he might, he couldn't stop tormenting himself with images of Xander and Anya smiling at each other, kissing each other, shagging each other ... They'd probably end up getting married or something and ... Spike almost passed out in horror as the thought occurred maybe *that* was what the romantic evening last night had been about! Maybe Xander had been proposing, slipping his ring onto Anya's finger, even as Spike stood outside imagining slipping *his* finger into Xander's ... Ahem.
Bloody Hell why was he only thinking of this now? If only he'd thought of this last night he'd have done something - nuisance phonecalls, putting a brick through the window, anything to spoil the mood. Oh perfect, Xander and Anya were going to live happy-bloody-ever-after, totally oblivious to him with his pathetic, futile, painful desire. Him with his daydreams and fantasies that were all he had because Anya had the whole package ...
He had to jerk to a sudden halt as he turned around and promptly bumped into someone. He growled as even more of his beer slopped over the glass, then felt his temper rise another ten notches or so as he saw The Bitch Girlfriend herself standing in front of him. Not content with taking his guy, she now had to ruin his beer. He wanted to rip out her intestines and strangle her with them.
"Well look who it is." Spike sneered, infusing the words with a wealth of bitterness, and a touch of disgust.
"Spike, go away." Anya snapped, the air of discontent around her almost palpable. Spike's eyebrow raised. He'd learnt a couple of things about women over the years he'd spent with Dru. One - *never* disagree with Miss Edith, and two - when a girl looked as pissed off as Anya did right now, she usually had boyfriend troubles. Well either that or the stars weren't singing but somehow he didn't think that was the problem with Anya. At the very least she certainly didn't look like a happy fiancée, and a quick glance to her hand revealed it was ringless. Suddenly Spike's rock bottom spirits lifted.
"So," he said, switching tones in an instant, and sounding both warm and agreeable. "What's new with you?"
"I said go away!" Before he could say anything however she launched into a vitriol of abuse. "What is wrong with you men! Why can you never accept a woman's point of view?"
"Oh dear," Spike said, oozing sympathy. "Had a fight with Xander have you?"
Anya rolled her eyes. "He's so ..."
"Isn't he though?" Spike agreed swiftly. "What happened? I thought you two were all happy and nauseating. Yesterday Xander was planning a ... " He curled his lip and managed to spit out the words; "...romantic evening."
"Yes, he had candles and champagne," Anya said, waving her hand and dismissing the romance that had tortured Spike with an impressive lack of interest. "So what? It doesn't solve anything!"
"Right, right, so you didn't uh ... " Spike stopped, he totally balked at saying the words 'shag him' to Anya, accompanied as it was by all the painful imagery. " ... uh ... you know?"
"What? Oh yes, we had the romantic make up sex but ..."
Anya stopped as the pint glass in Spike's hand shattered, beer cascading over his hand onto the floor.
"Um, it must be a faulty glass," Spike said quickly, "Come on." He wiped his hand off on his duster and led her away from the broken glass, sitting them both down on a nearby couch. Fortunately with it being early Sunday evening the place was quiet, almost cosy, and just the sort of atmosphere to induce confidences. "What's the trouble in Paradise then?"
"He doesn't take me seriously."
"I've noticed that," Spike lied.
"You have?"
"Sure. I mean to be honest, I never got why you were wasting your time with him, you could easily dump him and find another guy."
"I don't want another guy!" Anya snapped.
"Oh. Right."
"I just want Xander to stop finding danger and running straight into it taking me with him!"
"I get that." Spike agreed carefully. "Why should you risk your neck for the goody-good gang?"
"Exactly! And Xander has no powers, no special strength, its not like they couldn't do it without him, why doesn't he just stop? He can still be friends with them, why does he keep nearly dying for them?"
//Because its him. Because he's loyal to the end and brave to the point of stupidity and if you can't understand that, then you can't understand him.// And Spike didn't pause to question how it was that *he* understood this so well.
"Beats me." Spike shrugged, as he forced himself to speak casually, keeping a tremor out of his voice that might betray his glee. In reality his insides were churning with violent excitement. This wasn't just some lovers spat - this was an ongoing, serious problem. If he played this right he might have a shot at actually getting rid of Anya. "What does Xander say about all this?"
"Nothing, he just wants to go on as we are!"
"Not seeing your point of view is he? Break down in communication, never a good sign."
"Why?" Anya continued, barely even listening to him anymore. "Why is so stupid to not to be in mortal danger every night? I mean is it so crazy to not want to fight monsters? I'm mortal now - I can't be careless with myself the way I used to be. I'm going to get old and wrinkly, if I don't get eaten by some demon first."
"And he doesn't understand that?" Spike shook his head sadly.
"Oh he understands, he just doesn't want to change, but I do .. I *have* changed. I'm sick of Sunnydale and all the demon's, I saw enough of that while I was working in vengeance. Now I'm mortal and I like it. I want to travel and see what the world is like as a mortal and do all the things that normal girls do, but Xander won't even take a holiday!"
//She wants to leave *town*?// Spike almost wept with joy. //To whatever power that looks out for us vampires thankyouthankyouthankyou! I'll eat the poor, I'll set fire to churches, anything you want, just *please* let me get rid of this chit. //
He forced himself to stretch his arm nonchalantly along the back of the couch, as though he just couldn't care less what way this conversation went and remarked idly; "Well if he won't budge, and you won't change your mind maybe its time you just left. Alone."
"Alone ...?" Anya's brow creased.
"Yeah, you know ... dump him. Go live your life, and let him get on with his."
Anya plucked at her skirt, biting her lip. "I've thought about it. I just ... I'm not sure ..."
"Take it from me luv, dump him. There's no way you two are gonna work this out, and the quicker you do it the better, the longer you leave it the worse its gonna be."
"I guess," Anya agreed uneasily. "But ..."
"Hey, obviously you guys have had fun, but you can't hold onto that as a reason to stay together if you want different things." Spike inspected his nails as he let the line play out a little. "Of course if you change your mind and decide you don't mind the danger and being stuck in this town for the rest of your life ..."
"No," Anya said, with decision. "I've thought about this a lot, and I know I won't."
"Well you do what has to be done then luv. And don't you go worrying about him, he can take it." With evil pleasure Spike twisted the knife. "If you ask me, he isn't all that concerned with making it work with you anyway, if he was he'd do whatever it takes to hang on to you."
Anya's eyes were bright with tears. "You really think?"
"Are you kidding? He's got a woman like you and he's not even trying to make you happy! The guy's a git Anya. Dump him."
Anya bit her lip but she nodded determinedly and Spike's heart soared. "You're right! You know he's never even told me he loves me."
"Really?" Spike couldn't keep the delight out of his voice. "*Never*? That's ..." He caught Anya's frown and stopped himself, feigning a look of outrage. "... terrible, that's terrible. Dump him luv, it's the only thing to do."
"I can't believe I've got to break up with him," Anya whispered, suddenly looking very vulnerable.
"Yeah it's a shame." Spike said, sitting on his hands to prevent himself from punching the air in ecstasy. "But you've got to think about you now. Dump him. And don't you worry about upsetting Xander, he'll see it's for the best, cruel to be kind and all that, you've both got to move on."
"Yes, I'm sure it won't take him long to find someone else to have sex with," Anya sighed.
"You got that right," Spike agreed fervently, then was hit with sudden panic. "There uh, isn't anyone else around is there?"
"No, but he's a guy, he'll have sex with pretty much anybody."
"Really? Anybody?" Spike asked casually.
"As long as they're about twenty, female and have a pulse."
"Oh. Right. But anyway, don't you wait around, and start having second thoughts, you be brave. Go and dump him now - tonight, and leave first thing tomorrow. You got your whole life waitin' for you."
Anya gave him a grateful smile through her teary eyes. "You're right Spike, you've really helped me clear things up. Thank you."
Spike gave her shoulder a comforting pat, and bit back a roar of triumph, looking down to hide the delight he was sure was glowing in his eyes. "That's alright luv, I live to give."
***
Xander had spent a pleasantly lazy Sunday evening watching a Star Trek Voyager marathon and pigging out on anything remotely edible in his apartment. He was finishing off a pack of peanuts, idly wondering where the zip was on Seven of Nine's skin-tight uniform and if there was any chance of getting Anya to dress up in an outfit like that, when there was a knock on his door.
Levering himself off the couch he found Anya standing at the door, her eyes bright with determination, her jaw set. Despite the warmth of the evening, Xander felt a cold wave wash over him, and silently realised that the chances of him ever seeing her dressed up in a Star Trek uniform had vanished.
"We need to talk," she said.
***
Spike was bouncing around his crypt, practically bounding off the walls, it was crazy to think just a few hours before he had barely had the energy to crawl out of bed. This was *brilliant*! Not only was Anya going to break up with Xander, she was going to leave town! Plus they'd been having problems for a while - there was no way Spike could be blamed for this! He wondered when exactly he'd 'officially' hear about them breaking up. Xander would probably try to keep it quiet from him until he'd licked his wounds a little; he'd hate for Spike to know this. He'd think - and not without reason Spike had to admit - that Spike would use it to make his life hell. Still when Spike was told he'd show Xander how wrong that was ... He laughed out loud and grabbed Petunia, (as he'd named the stuffed hippo he'd woken up with), and waltzed around the crypt with her - he couldn't *wait*! He'd have to find the Scoobies soon - tomorrow, keep alert for any hints, possibly Dawn would let something slip ...
A loud thud on his door made him jump as the door flew back - and Xander, his face like thunder stood in the doorway. Spike froze in shock. Xander's fists were clenched, his eyes dark with fury his mouth twisted in an angry snarl. Somehow Spike got the feeling this wasn't about to be a 'my darling, I've always longed for you too' scene. He was very good at reading body language.
"Well, well," Spike managed to drawl, though he was unable to release his tight grip on Petunia; she was his only friend now. "To what do I owe this pleasure?"
Xander launched himself across the crypt and punched him in the face. Spike staggered back and hit the floor, but managed to let go of Petunia. A small victory.
"You told Anya to break up with me!" Xander roared. "She's leaving, you bastard - I should kill you!"
Yeah, he'd have to keep his ears open for those little hints.
"Ow!" Spike considered picking himself up, but decided it wasn't the wisest course of action at the moment. Xander would just see it as a chance to knock him down again. Besides, staying on the floor for a moment was nothing, not when Anya had done it! She'd actually done it! On the other hand it looked like she hadn't exactly kept quiet about Spike's subtle push, and now his joy was tempered by the worry he was about to have his ass kicked from one end of the cemetery to the other, then tied up to await the rising sun. He raised himself on his elbows and met Xander's furious eyes. "Bloody Hell, calm down will you?"
"*Calm down*?" Xander spluttered. "You just talked my girlfriend into dumping me!"
"Hey all I did was provide a friendly ear!"
"You've ruined my life! Anya is leaving and it's all your fault!"
"My fault?" Spike repeated with a flash of anger. It was so typical he got the blame for this, when all he'd done was give her a push in the right direction - i.e. away from Xander. "I was just tryin' to help the girl!"
"You told her to dump me!"
"Do you think if she hadn't wanted to do it anything I said would have made the slightest difference?" Spike shot back, knowing that it was true, and using it in a swift attack to disarm Xander. He got to his feet, all the better to stare Xander down. "All *I* did was try and clear things up for her - she decided to leave because it was the best thing to do and if *you* weren't being so selfish you'd realise that!"
"Selfish? *Me*? You're the selfish guy around here, you never do anything unless there's something in it for you!" Xander paused as a thought occurred to him, and he grabbed Spike's T-shirt with a fresh burst of anger. "Are you after her?" Xander snarled into his face. "'Cos if you are ..."
"Oh please!" Spike rolled his eyes, but Xander continued to glare at him, only inches away, demanding an answer. Spike felt a lurch in his stomach that had absolutely nothing to do with the prospect of an imminent beating. "No," Spike said seriously, looking into Xander's eyes - god, how Xander's eyes could blaze - "I'm not after Anya."
Xander shoved him away in disgust. "Oh so it's all because of me!"
Spike felt his mouth go dry with fear. "Wha ... what?"
"It's me!" Xander repeated. "You're just out to make my life hell!"
Spike almost fainted with relief.
"I *cannot* believe you," Xander continued, by now in a state Spike's dear departed mum would have called 'high dudgeon'. "What the hell have I done to deserve this from you?"
"Hey!" Spike yelled, getting seriously pissed off, not to mention still a little shaken with the after-effects of having Xander hold him so closely. "This was nothing to do with me, and if you weren't so busy trying make yourself feel better by blaming me and having a game of 'Beat the Spike' you'd see that! This was about the two of you and all the things *you* can't give her. The girl wants a normal life, she wants to see more of the world than this piss-ant little town. She wants kids and safety and not having to think about the latest big bad of the week, and there's nothing wrong with that! If you ask me you're the one being selfish here, trying to make her stay and live a life she didn't want!"
The words seemed to echo around the crypt like a thunderclap. Spike stared Xander down defiantly and suddenly the anger seemed to drain out of him. He visibly deflated, leaning back against the wall, and his lip trembled. "But I need her."
"No - you don't." Spike said brutally. "If you needed her you'd have done anything to keep her in your life. You didn't love her, you just liked having her around. Seems to me if you care about her at all, you'd think she deserved better than that."
There was a long silence. Xander swallowed and looked away as the last of his energy left him and he slumped down the wall, hitting the floor with a defeated thud. "I knew this was coming," he said at last. "I knew it - I just didn't want to see it."
"Yeah, well." Spike suddenly felt utterly at a loss. He should feel delighted at how well today had gone, but Xander, sitting on the floor with his lip trembling and his hair falling into his eyes, looked like a kid who needed a hug. It made Spike's chest feel tight, scaring him a little at just how much he wanted to console him - and not just in a 'get in his pants' way. //How did I get to the stage where I hurt when he hurts?//
More than sympathy though, Spike was also feeling a *very* unexpected pang of guilt. Spike *never* felt guilty about anything and he didn't care for the feeling now. He tried to shake it off. He shouldn't be feeling bad about helping to end a relationship that was already over in all but name, even if he did have an ulterior motive! But he did. Despite being overjoyed beyond all measure that Anya was suddenly out of the picture he *hated* to see Xander so unhappy and know that it was partly because of him. Even Petunia was looking as though she was about to shed a tear for the poor guy.
Spike awkwardly sat down next to Xander, but didn't dare pat his arm in case it made him bolt. He so badly wanted to help, to show Xander he could be a pal, but he was trembling inside. Nerves mingled with the desire to just ... lean over and kiss him. //Keep cool// he told himself sternly. //Stay calm, whatever you do don't screw this up by jumping on him - and for Gods sake don't start talking about Essence of Toad.// He groped for words that could help, although consoling words weren't really his forte. "Um ... it's better its done now. Worse things happen at sea."
Xander didn't look up. He didn't appear to be finding this particularly comforting. Spike made another effort. "She'll be alright. So will you."
Xander still stared miserably at the floor and didn't reply.
Spike was flummoxed, this was his golden opportunity to help Xander - and to help himself by showing Xander that he wasn't such a bad guy - and he hadn't a *clue* what to say. There must be something that would help. He needed to hit the right note - not so arsy as to piss him off, not so needy as to scare him off, and not so cold as to make him feel unwanted.
Inspiration suddenly struck, and he said casually. "Fancy a drink?"
Xander looked up at him with a spark of hope in his eyes.
***
Xander choked slightly as the disgusting taste of whisky dragged at his throat. He liked beer but other than that he wasn't much of a drinker. He was notoriously susceptible to the dubious charms of alcohol, and it didn't do wonders for a guy's morale when Buffy and Willow could hold their drink better than him. However now and then he felt the need for a strong drink, and tonight was definitely a now and then time.
"I see you don't appreciate a good strong drink," Spike said from where he sat next to Xander on the floor, smirking a little at his coughing fit.
"I appreciate it fine," Xander responded as coldly as was possible while turning red in the face, and spluttering as though his throat had been sandblasted. He toyed with the idea of leaving, maybe finding Mr. Rog ... uh, that was *Willow*. But he was feeling exhausted after his emotionally traumatic evening and although Spike was an insensitive, irritating prick, he was an insensitive, irritating prick that was offering him a free drink. He took another sip and grimaced. He really shouldn't have come here, but he'd been so upset and angry after Anya's less than sensitive break up speech; "We both know we should break up! Spike even knows it!"
It hadn't taken much to piece together that Anya had seen Spike earlier tonight, and apparently his 'advice' had been the final straw on the camels back of their relationship. Although he'd had a strong suspicion that he and Anya were on borrowed time, being dumped was not pleasant, and the fact that Spike had been even slightly involved had left Xander with the very strong urge to kick his ass. However now that urge was gone and he just felt miserable. As much as he hated to admit it, Spike was right. Anya *did* deserve better, and if she hadn't wanted to break up with him, nothing Spike had said would have made the slightest difference. //Great, so its all my fault - I feel *sooooo* much better.// He wished he still felt mad; blaming Spike was much easier than blaming himself. Fun too.
"So how long things been going wrong with Anya then?" Spike asked cheerfully. Xander's hackles should have risen at the tactless question, but he actually didn't mind. Willow and Buffy were always so sympathetic and kind about relationship problems it made him feel over-emotional in a way that really messed with his manly pride. Much the same as when he watched 'Bambi', or 'Charlotte's Web', he could never seem to stop himself from bawling like a child. Spike's matter-of-fact approach somehow made it easier to talk about. Or maybe it was the whisky.
"Ages," Xander sighed, realising it was true, but it didn't make him feel any less crappy about her imminent departure.
"Yeah? Surprising, you two always looked pretty cosy."
"You were obviously looking during those two seconds a day where I hadn't managed to piss her off."
Spike gave a snort of laughter and topped up Xander's glass. Xander watched him suspiciously. //Why is Spike being so nice to me? He's probably going to get me wasted then send me home dressed in a pink ballgown. As long as its not taffeta, itchy, scratchy stuff.// He took another sip and dismissed the worry about going home dressed like a reject from a transvestite bar. He could worry when he wasn't nursing a heart that might not be broken, but certainly felt battered and chipped around the edges. He took a slightly larger sip, the whisky still tasted foul, but at least it was warming. Unfortunately he couldn't stop his face from going into a gargoyle-like spasm of disgust every time he took a drink.
"Bit narky was she?" Spike clucked his tongue emphatically; pausing to drink his own whisky with a smoothness Xander could only envy. "Women, eh?"
"She's leaving *town*" Xander said suddenly, and he looked away in shame as something knotted painfully in his chest.
Spike paused. "That's not 'cos of you mate," Spike said in a studiedly casual tone of voice. "You're the only reason she hung on as long as she did."
Xander felt a wave of gratitude that momentarily knocked him speechless. He drained his glass to hide his emotion, feeling oddly unsettled. Nice Spike was supposed to have vanished when Toth's spell had ended, but now here he was being - well not nice exactly, but certainly bearable. In fact, right now, with Spike sitting next to him, generously filling his glass Xander was reminded of William's well meaning kindness. It was strangely ... soothing, and it shouldn't be! Awkward, meddlesome vampire always messing with his expectations! He shot Spike a glare, just so they'd both be sure that Xander wasn't succumbing to the madness of actually *liking* him again, but Spike wasn't even looking at him. He was sipping at his drink and talking. "Now, Dru she said I was the reason she was going. And she left the *country* when she dumped me."
"Thus proving she's not *quite* as insane as she made out," Xander said nastily, finding comfort in snapping at Spike. A secure point in a changing world. He took a large gulp of the whisky in case Spike decided to take it off him, quickly followed by his Quasimodo impression.
"Oh no, she was barking all right," Spike replied, ignoring the insult. He had a slightly distant look on his face, as though he was remembering events past. "Sometimes literally," he winced. "My poor little evil plum, at least life was never dull with her."
"Yeah," Xander nodded. "Anya's a bit crazy, but she really keeps ... kept things interesting."
"Yeah but did she ever ask you to fly to the moon with her?"
"No, but she did want me to tie Giles up in the basement."
Spike choked on his whisky to Xander's immense satisfaction. //Now who doesn't appreciate a strong drink?//
"Wha ...? *Please* tell me it wasn't a sex thing."
"Uggh! Well thank you for the increase in my future therapy bills there with that image, Spike. No I think it was more of an 'Anya wanted to run the Magic Box' thing."
"Well that's not so crazy, 'sides Dru and I always used to keep a spare human tied up in case we got hun ... umm, that is ..."
"Its okay Spike, I'm aware of the fact that you have done slightly naughty things from time to time. Only replace the words 'slightly naughty' with 'very evil', and the phrase 'from time to time', with 'every day of your life', right?"
"Not, umm, *every* day," Spike protested. "And not anything at all lately." He snorted. "Dru thought I'd gone soft before - think she'd stake me if she could see me now."
"I'll do it," Xander offered. //Make Drusilla happy. Stake Spike Now!//
"Sod off."
Xander felt a smile tugging at his mouth and hastily hid it by finishing off his drink. Drinking Spike's booze was one thing, but smiling at him was quite another. Spike re-filled his glass, and Xander considered what Spike had said about Dru through the haze the whisky was spinning in his head. "You know with Dru," he said tentatively, "you guys had fun and it was interesting and all that, but was it ever ... kind of ...exhausting?"
Spike looked at him with surprise, as though he hadn't expected Xander to get that. "You know it really was. It wasn't like I minded, but having to watch her, take care of her when she wanted it, stand back when she didn't, pander to every little whim, every crazy idea. I could never relax. Sometimes I wonder how she's doin' without me."
"You still miss her?" Xander asked, the whisky must have stripped his throat, his voice sounded hoarser than usual. He looked down at his hands - he seemed to have four - no two - no four again.
Spike shrugged. "Not really, I sometimes miss the good times, when they were good they were really bloody good. At first I thought I'd die from the pain of being without her - but now ... mostly I'm just kind of glad I'm out of it. Someone else can take orders from Miss Soddin' Edith."
Xander looked up from his two hands - four hands problem, confused. "Who's Miss Edith?"
"Her doll."
Xander stared for a moment then his lip quirked before a totally unexpected burst of laughter broke free. He'd have to slap himself for that later. Laughing with Spike was not something he should be doing, but there surely had to be a 'get out' clause for moments like this. "You - *you* took orders from a *doll*?"
"Hey it was a big doll y'know?" Spike's lips twitched.
"Did she talk?" Xander spluttered, picturing a Tiny Tears doll, ordering Spike around in its sweet little voice; 'Change me! Feed me! Hug me!' and giving him a cuff around the head with its little plastic hand if he did it wrong.
"Oh yeah - but not in words that any sane person could hear, that would've made it way too easy. Dru used to hold her up to my ear and if I didn't 'hear' her right ... well there'd be precious little action for me in the sack that night."
Xander laughed and drank, then Spike refilled his glass and he drank again. "I know what you mean," he said on impulse. "Not about the doll - about it being exhausting." The whisky was really taking its toll, he caught himself sliding towards Spike's shoulder and jerked himself back upright. "Anya's exciting, lotsa fun, but its never been *easy* I've always been waiting to slip up and piss her off."
Spike tutted and shifted so he was sitting a little closer to Xander. "What we men have to put up with - its shocking that's what it is."
"Damn straight!" Xander agreed, slapping Spike on the thigh in emphasis. Spike leapt about a foot in the air - oops, he must have done it harder than he'd thought.
"Sorry."
"Its okay," Spike squeaked. The whisky must be affecting his voice too.
"Well I've had it with women," Xander announced as the whisky in his glass joined the party in his stomach. "First they say they want to go out with you, then they leave town, without even wearing a Star Trek uniform, and they keep changing their hair and expecting you to notice, and saying they look fat." Xander fixed Spike with a serious look. "But lemme tell you - however much a girl says she's fat, you don't want to agree her."
"Oh, I'm right with you mate," Spike agreed. "We can do without them!"
"Cheers!" They clinked glasses, and drank deeply. Of course he didn't like Spike but it was nice to have a pal to drink with on the night his life turned to crap. Xander shot Spike a sideways glance; there was something he really wanted to know. It wasn't something he'd ever imagined himself asking, but tonight had been so strange already, and they were both so relaxed, and Spike was being so sort of *comforting* that Xander couldn't stop himself.
"Hey, Spike?" Xander began hazily, feeling himself slip down the wall as he took another sip of whisky. It didn't taste too bad now. Or maybe his throat was going numb.
Spike put a hand on his shoulder stopping him from sliding completely down the wall, and looked at him. His blue eyes had a slight glaze over them. "Yeah?"
"There's um ... there's something I really want to ask you."
Spike stilled, his hand still on Xander's shoulder. "W-what is it?"
"It .. uh ... it might sound a little ... weird," Xander stalled.
"Go on," Spike said slightly breathlessly, leaning a little closer to him.
Xander took a deep breath. "Why do you have a stuffed hippo?"
Xander swam from the depths of an alcohol induced almost coma, up to the surface of consciousness, with the feeling that Something Bad Had Happened tailing him all the way. He woke, but kept his eyes tightly closed as he had the feeling letting even a sliver of light hit them would hurt immensely. He tried to fix on why he felt so depressed. What was it now ... oh yes, he remembered! Oh no! He wished he hadn't.
Anya. His gorgeous, unpredictable, materialistic, entertaining girlfriend had dumped him. Not just left him - was leaving town. Now he knew how Buffy and Willow had felt when Angel and Oz had left, it was the final crushing blow - never mind that the ex didn't want to stay friends, they didn't even want to stay in *town*. Maybe the three of them should start a business; 'The Ex-express: Tired of bumping into your past partner? Is this town too small for the both of you? Then come to us - let us decrease that ex-cess Sunnydale population'. Then again the demons that flocked to the town in their droves seemed to have a pretty good handle on that, and the demons methods were far more efficient. Such was life in business, never any room for the little guy.
Xander groaned as his head gave a particularly vicious throb. Heavy-hearted and hungover was not a good combination. What on Earth had possessed him to spend a night drinking in Spike's company, and why had Spike let him drink so much whisky? Probably some evil vampire plot. He wondered uneasily exactly what Spike had done to him while his brain was happily sodden in whisky land, and cracked an eye open, managing to focus enough to see he was still in the clothes he'd been wearing yesterday. At least Spike hadn't sent him home in pink taffeta. He did however have a horrible feeling that Spike had dared him to down a glass of - oh God no - pig's blood and whisky, and that he'd won the dare with flying colours. He hastily stuffed the hazy recollection right at the very back of his mind, to be suppressed along with the memory of the time when he was six and he walked in on his folks . hugging energetically. He tried to recall how he'd gotten home. He had a strange inkling that Spike had offered to walk him back, which didn't seem like the sort of thing that would happen, but he must have done because there was some memory of flagging a cab on the way, and Spike had definitely been there. He remembered grabbing Spike by the facings of his coat, and telling him emotionally that this was goodbye before clambering into the cab. Then clambering out again and asking Spike if he had any money, since he, Xander, hadn't a cent.
Xander snickered slightly; at least in some small way it made up for the numerous things Spike had stolen from him. Surprisingly enough Spike had paid up - even extracting a promise from the driver that he would make sure Xander got home safely or Spike would hunt the driver down, skin him, and use said skin to make a coat to give to his grieving widow. Xander had felt a little bad about Spike's death threats and tried to tip the driver with his shirt when they arrived home. The driver hadn't been impressed, and had come up with some very inventive possibilities of what Xander could actually do with his shirt. Xander winced. There really hadn't been any need for that sort of language.
His head pounded relentlessly and he had just made the executive decision to call in work and say he was dead, when the phone pealed out, nearly splitting his throbbing head in two. He groped for the phone by his bed, and thankfully the ringing stopped.
He tried to say 'hello', but what actually came out was a kind of anguished croak, like a small injured animal who had drank far too much whisky the night before. Off to a roaring start. There was no answer, but he could hear vague squeaking, he cracked his other eye open, focused on the receiver and turned it the right way round.
"Wha ...?"
Willow's voice came in a rush down the phone. "Xander! Are you okay? I called and called last night, where were you? Anya came round to say goodbye, I had no idea she wanted to leave town she said she was leaving today, she wants to look around LA first, oh Xander why didn't you tell me, do you want me to come over?"
"Urk."
"You sound terrible, where were you last night?"
"Spike's," Xander managed to get out. His mouth felt like it had been covered with fuzz, and forming words had changed from an everyday occurrence into a skill that required considerable effort. Frankly he wasn't sure he was up to the challenge. He sat up and with bleary eyes looked at himself in the mirror. Green-tinged skin, bloodshot eyes, and shaking hands. He looked startlingly similar to a decaying monster, only slightly less attractive.
"Spike! Why?"
"Well," he croaked, "I found out Anya had spoken to him before she came round to dump me and ..."
"What? Is Spike behind this?"
"Actually, no." Xander admitted, not without a touch of reluctance. "He just said some stuff to Anya - and me - that was really ... harsh and ... " Xander rubbed his eyes tiredly as he admitted; " ... and really true." Xander blinked as he focussed on a grey, furry blur sitting on his bed. He looked closer. Yes, it was definitely a stuffed hippo. Why did he have a stuffed hippo? Wait a minute, he remembered Spike shoving her into his arms, saying something about her being comforting.
"Do you want ..."
"Petunia?" Xander asked the hippo doubtfully.
"What, you want Petunia? I'll get her!" A beat. "Who's Petunia? Xander - have you met someone else?"
"No, Petunia is Spike's stuffed hippo. I brought her home last night."
A baffled silence met this announcement.
Xander made a mighty effort to get his alcohol-sodden brain to work. "Will, what time did Ahn say she was going?"
"Eleven 'o' clock - she's getting the bus. Why?"
Xander peered at the clock; it was just gone nine. He stood up - then, thanks to his shaking legs, promptly sat down again. "There's something I gotta do. As soon as I can move."
***
Xander gazed around the Sunnydale Bus Station. He still felt like something the cat wouldn't bother to drag in, but at least after a shower and drinking about six pints of water his body seemed to be feeling like there might be some slight point in living after all. He spotted Anya, sitting with her bag at her feet, waiting for her bus, and reading a brochure about Egypt. A painful knot tightened in his chest and he made his way over to her.
"Makes sense," he said.
She looked up, and her mouth dropped open. After a moment she asked; "What makes sense?"
Xander gestured to the brochure. "I spent so much time paddling around in denial - it figures you'd go to take a look at it."
Anya closed the brochure, putting it neatly in her bag. "You look horrible."
"I'm glad to see the pointers I gave you on the use of tact really stuck."
She smiled a little, then asked with an uncontrollable note of hope in her voice; "Is this where you say you're coming with me?"
A lump sprang up in Xander's throat, and he shook his head. "No. This is where I say all the things I should have said last night about how much I'll miss you. And how sad I am this didn't work. And how brave you are. And weirdly - how glad I am that you're leaving. Because you're doing what's right for you, and I should have seen it a long time ago."
Anya nodded sadly. "I figured."
He sat next to her and took her hand in his. "Thank you for coming Xander," she said quietly. "I know you felt all that anyway, but it's nice to hear."
"Hey, I couldn't let my last words to you be 'the next time you see Spike, his ass is gonna be a whole new shape!' could I?" Xander joked through the tightness in his throat.
Anya gave his hand a squeeze. "I'm glad they weren't. Is it?"
"What?"
"A whole new shape?"
"No, we decided some painful insights into where I'd gone wrong would be more fun."
"Ah." She paused. "You know I probably said it wrong last night - this is nothing to do with what he said ..."
"I know. You don't have to explain," Xander shook his head ruefully. "In a way he probably did us a favour. I still hate the guy though."
"I know. It's strange though," Anya said idly.
"What's strange?"
"Considering you hate him so much, you spend an awful lot of time talking about him."
Xander started in shock. "I don't, I ..." A tinny announcement issuing from the speakers crackled over his protest and Anya ignoring him, listened to it with her head slightly cocked. "That's me."
"Oh. Right."
They stood, looking at each other awkwardly and Xander felt the dull ache of misery sharpen into a knife's point as he remembered the first night Anya had turned up in his basement asking him to 'interlock parts'. An unusual beginning, that nonetheless had worked for them. For a while. A lot of nights together, a lot of jokes and hope, arguments and sex, it was so sad to think it had finished here.
"Ahn, I'm sorry I ... I couldn't ..."
"Love me?" Anya finished, her eyes too bright with tears.
"I ..."
"Don't. Don't try to explain. I ... I think you came close though?"
"Closer than you'll ever know."
They looked at each other, Anya's lip was trembling and Xander could feel his own composure begin to crumple.
"So ... take care," he choked.
"You too," said Anya.
There was a moments pause. "Well, goodbye!" Anya said with fake brightness and held her hand out formally. Xander shook it solemnly, then they paused. He held out his arms, she hurtled forward, and for a long moment they held each other tightly as Xander inhaled the familiar scent of her for the last time, speechless with the 'close but no cigar' pain of it all. For a moment he remembered her cool soothing hands stroking his face lovingly after he'd been knocked out once - odd, because Anya's hands were usually so hot - and he wanted to beg her to stay, to try again. Maybe she would have agreed, but a voice - Spike's voice, how strange - echoed in his head. Harsh and loud, and *honest*. "Seems to me if you care about her at all, you'd think she deserved better than that." And she did.
"You be happy, and if you need anything you call me okay?" Xander said fiercely. Anya nodded against his shoulder and gave him a brief kiss on the cheek before turning and quickly walking away.
***
In the following week Xander missed Anya like crazy. Despite a slightly guilty feeling of relief that he didn't have to work at holding together something that obviously wasn't meant to be, being without her was a huge wrench. He did however discover what great friends he had. Of course he already knew that, but it was still good to have it affirmed. They were all obviously trying hard to be there for him - he just wished it wasn't *quite* so obvious. So much kind support was, he suspected, remarkably similar to what being smothered in cotton wool must be like; soft and gentle and overwhelming. Everyone seemed to have their own ideas on what would help him feel better. Giles, after an uncomfortable; 'Well of course if you need to talk ...' speech, (followed, to their mutual relief, by a swift return to a discussion of cross-referencing) seemed to think that keeping busy with a lot of book cataloguing was the way to go. Meanwhile Willow and Buffy placed a lot of faith in warm hugs and sympathy, followed by chocolate and long talks. Not that he was complaining about the hugs - or the chocolate - but he could have done without the pop-psychology. He didn't understand most of it, (and he still hadn't admitted to them that he didn't know what 'co-dependant' meant) but it all seemed to be heading towards the conclusion that absolutely every relationship he'd ever have was doomed. Still at least they didn't try to console him the way Riley did. In fact, much as he liked Riley, Xander was beginning to have the urge to hide whenever he saw him coming. Riley was apparently of the opinion the way to triumph over depression about a broken relationship was not comfort food and long talks, but hard exercise and will power. If Riley had ever heard the phrase 'keep a stiff upper lip' he would have embraced it like a long-lost brother. He therefore dragged a protesting Xander to the gym and to play Paintball and even, on one never-to-be-repeated-occasion, canoeing. Although how capsizing eleven times was supposed to cheer Xander up was beyond him.
Xander rolled his eyes at himself, talk about Mr. Difficult To Please. He should be glad he had friends willing to devote so much time to him. He *was* glad, but ... well, it would be kind of nice to spend some time with someone who wasn't treading on egg-shells around him. Someone who he could relax with and be able to tell to shut up if they introduced subjects he didn't want to talk about.
He channel surfed aimlessly. Tonight was the first night he'd had alone all week, and it wasn't the funland it was cracked up to be. He was so *bored*. Willow and Tara were celebrating some witches anniversary thing - which Xander had a strong suspicion was just an excuse for getting naked and sweaty, and unfortunately he wasn't invited - and Buffy and Riley were on patrol. He would have liked to go with them, after all it was kind of the reason Anya had dumped him, but Buffy had insisted he have 'a night off'. Giles was about, but frankly if he had to look at one more book and mentally recite the alphabet again, Xander was going to shove the book where Giles would discover the alphabet was useless. A reaction that would be a little over the top possibly, but Xander *felt* a little over the top. Ever since Anya had left he had felt unsettled, like the ground was shifting under his feet, and his life was changing in some way that he didn't really understand. Hell, the very fact he'd spent an evening hanging out with Spike was surely enough of a portent of doom. Although - reluctantly - he had to admit, strange as that night had been, it had also been sort of, well, okay.
Xander gave himself a mental shake. So they'd had an okay time. So what? It didn't change what Spike was, and it certainly didn't mean that Xander liked him. In fact he would probably have forgotten all about that night, if it wasn't for something Dawn had said last night ...
***Flashback***
He was hanging out at Buffy's with the girls. Willow and Tara were sitting next to each other on the couch holding hands, while he and Dawn were sprawled comfortably in the armchairs, and they were all working their way through a huge bowl of popcorn with an air of dedication. Buffy was in the kitchen microwaving some more, and they could hear her chatting cheerfully to Joyce.
"So what did you think of the movie?" Tara asked as the end credits rolled.
"Moving beyond all measure." Xander said with his best sincere-eyes.
"You hated it didn't you?" Willow snorted, not fooled for an instant.
"No, not at all - would Buffy *really* mind if I set fire to it?"
Willow grinned and Xander lazily stretched his leg out to kick the bowl of popcorn closer to him, and missed entirely. Only a quick reaction from Dawn stopped her drink from being splattered over the carpet.
"I blame Spike," Xander said in response to the good-natured giggles. "Ever since that night my co-ordination has been seriously off."
"What night?" Dawn asked.
"Oh, the night Ahn told me she was moving on to pastures new I ended up drinking whisky in his hell-hole." He shuddered. "That was a scary, strange night."
"I thought you said you guys got on okay!" Willow protested.
"I repeat, it was a scary, strange night."
"When he was all human-y because of Toth's spell you liked him."
Xander fidgeted restlessly. "Yeah, well that was before he got his demon mojo back on."
"Spike's okay," Dawn piped up, stuffing another mouthful of popcorn in her mouth. "Wi 'ung ou ovver 'ay an' ha' ife ream."
Xander frowned. "You wanna try that again in some known language?"
Dawn swallowed and said again; "We hung out the other day and had ice-cream." She frowned. "Don't tell Buffy though, she wouldn't like it."
"Gee I wonder why not," Xander said, widening his eyes with mock confusion. "Spike's such a great role-model."
Dawn rolled her eyes. "Why shouldn't I hang out with him if I want? With that chip in his head, *I'm* badder than he is, and Spike's cool. He doesn't treat me like a kid." She looked at Xander with a wicked smile. "And he's really easy to talk too."
Xander coughed. The glint in her eyes gave the distinct impression that somewhere in this conversation with Spike, his name had made a guest appearance. And what did she mean about Spike being easy to talk to? He shifted uncomfortably as he remembered bending Spike's ear for hours the other night about Anya. And the way Spike had walked him part the way home. And paid for the cab. //Okay, as blood-sucking demons go, maybe he does fall into the 'Easy To Talk To' category. He's also easy to hate, loathe, and detest. Strangely difficult to stake though.//
"The thing is, Dawn," Xander said, doggedly clinging to the known facts like a child to its blankie. "Spike is evil."
"Rude," Willow contributed.
"Arrogant," Tara put in.
"Conceited," Xander followed up. //Hey, this is fun!//
"Yeah, I know," Dawn agreed. "But once you get over all that, he's pretty cool." She had a slightly dreamy look in her eyes, and Xander's mouth dropped open in disbelief, just as Buffy came back in with more popcorn supplies.
"Hey, what's going on?" she asked cheerfully.
"Oh, Xander was just saying how much he'd like to watch another Hugh Grant movie," Tara said wickedly.
Xander groaned in dismay as the girls whooped in delight.
***End Flashback***
Xander sighed, he'd recognised that dreamy look on Dawn's face as she'd talked about Spike. Maybe his nose was just a little put out of joint. He'd known of course Dawn had a crush on him, he'd also known that crushes were pretty fleeting, and that at some point someone else would catch her eye, but *Spike*? Spike was knocking him of Dawn's hot-spot? Why? Just because he was a good-looking guy with a dangerous edge, why was that attractive?
Xander switched off the TV - and just at the start of an episode of Xena - yikes what was *wrong* with him? - and gazed around the silent room restlessly, drumming his fingers against his thighs. He wanted something, but for the life of him he didn't know what.
The phone rang, breaking into his thoughts, and he darted towards it, trying not to sound too eager as he picked up the receiver. It was probably just Giles ringing to check that he was sure he didn't want to come over, Dawn wanting homework help, Riley bailing on patrol and wanting to go to the gym ...
"Hello?"
"'Lo, mate," came Spike's unmistakable rough-edged voice. "How are we feeling tonight then?"
Xander felt a surge of annoyance. He had actually had the crazy hope lurking at the back of his mind that this call was something good about to happen. Obviously not. Knowing Spike he probably wanted his money back for the cab. Plus interest. "What do you want?" Xander snapped. "And I'm not your mate."
"Could've fooled me with all that crying you were doing on my shoulder the other night."
"I wasn't crying and we are not friends."
"So what are you doing tonight then? Moping, listening to girly tunes, crying into your beer?"
"Who's crying?" Xander shot back in a restrained shout. "Not me, and its none of your business what I'm doing."
"Got a beer waiting at the Bronze for you if you want to cry into this. Ya fancy it?"
Xander raised his eyes to the ceiling and shook his head with a weary, more-in-disbelief-than-anger motion that he'd seen Giles use on numerous occasions. As *if* ..! The *nerve* ...! He took a breath.
"Okay."
Continued in the next part
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