Two's Company
Part 5
Spike beamed at the barman as he bought two beers. The barman looked momentarily surprised, then smiled back, passing Spike his change and giving his hand an over-friendly squeeze. Spike stopped smiling. However, fortunately for the barman Spike was in far too good a mood to spell out (literally; using a sharp knife, and the barman's skin) exactly how little chance he stood. Of course the chip played its part in reigning in his worst impulses, but mostly it was the good mood. In fact good wasn't the word for it, Spike was flying. Anya was out of the picture and he had a date with Xander! Well, okay maybe not a date *exactly*, but Xander was coming here to meet him, wasn't he? That had to make it a kind of a date, right? After his conversation with Xander he'd calmly walked into the men's room, locked himself in a cubicle and given a very loud and uncool whoop of utter delight. And then come out to find a couple of guys looking at him warily and obviously wondering what the hell he'd been up to in there.
He hoped he'd played it cool enough on the phone, it had taken him *days* to work up the nerve to call Xander. He'd practically haunted the Bronze and assorted graveyards hoping to bump into him, but Xander had turned into the Invisible Man. Ironic really, considering how in the old days when Spike *hadn't* liked him, he hadn't been able to move without tripping over Xander or his stupid friends. No doubt he'd have bumped into Xander eventually, but patience wasn't a virtue of his, which left the direct approach. Fortunately Xander was still happily oblivious to all the date-type thoughts that were swirling around in Spike's addled head. He was probably seeing tonight as another chance to get drunk and moan about Anya. Still it was a start in Spike's plan to initially show Xander he wasn't so bad, and would hopefully end up with a mutual declaration of undying love.
Spike found a table, and sat down, Xander should be here any moment. His excitement began to be overwhelmed by sick nerves. This was how spotty teenage boys who had somehow scored a date with the head cheerleader must feel. Overjoyed that they actually had a date, yet absolutely petrified that it was all going to go wrong, that they'd be mocked, rejected and eventually laughed out of town, duster tucked between their legs. But he may be personalising it a bit. The other night when Xander had just ended up drinking in his crypt had been so easy compared to this. Spike ran a hand through his hair, but thanks to the over-excessive amount of gel he'd put on tonight his fingers got stuck halfway. He wrenched them free with an effort, but panicked. Had he ruffled himself? Was his hair standing up in a ridiculous point? A tentative investigation revealed all seemed to be well, but should he sit or stand? Should he lean casually against the wall, or not? Spike stood up. Then sat down again. Maybe he should play it cool and pretend not to see Xander when he first came in, maybe he should gaze thoughtfully into the distance, a sexy, enigmatic figure. Xander would be intrigued; 'Look he's staring into the distance, he's deep and sensitive and I'm strangely attracted to him!' Or maybe Xander would think Spike was being rude by ignoring him, and leave. God, no wonder he never dated, this was *hell*. And what was taking Xander so long to get here?
As though his thoughts had magically conjured him up, Xander stepped into the Bronze, his eyes narrowed slightly as he looked around. Spike's stomach lurched. Xander was here - looking for *him*. So much for playing it cool, his hand shot into the air, waving as eagerly as a school kid who knew the answer. Xander spotted him, nodded and made his way over. Spike beamed and nodded right back, thankfully managing to lower his hand. His heart felt like it was about to explode with happiness.
"Hi Xander," he said, feeling extremely short of breath as Xander joined him. He knew he had a huge foolish grin on his face, but couldn't seem to get rid of it.
"Yeah, yeah, save the insults," Xander said, barely listening to him. He sat down, and took the beer Spike pushed towards him. "Don't ask me why I agreed to this, I haven't got a clue."
"Maybe you missed me," Spike suggested, still grinning.
"Maybe there will be a day when you're not a pain in the ass, and maybe there will also be a day when monkeys take over the planet and learn how to hold meetings, but I'm not gonna be holding my breath for either one."
//I'd love to be a pain in your ass// Spike thought, with a sudden clench of longing so fierce it shocked him. //Well, no not a pain, maybe more of a *filling* sensation ...//
"Spike?" Xander was looking at him strangely. "Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?" Spike squeaked, suddenly terrified Xander could somehow see right through into his brain, where the image of him riding Xander, naked and sweating, was still seared. It might sound nuts, but this was Sunnydale. Things like the ability to read minds just kind of happened around here.
"Like ..." Xander widened his eyes, and let his mouth hang open gormlessly. Spike gulped.
"Oh, that. I was just seein'. if you, uh ... recognised your natural facial expression on someone else?" Spike managed to reply, but he could feel his brain melting into a gooey, besotted mess. Xander snorted, and flicked some beer at him. Spike gazed at him surreptitiously as Xander slipped out of his jacket, and glanced casually round the Bronze. He looked good. Maybe a little less groomed than he'd been while he was with Anya, but the rough-edged look of messy hair and faded jeans was really working for him, making him look like a 'real' man. The sort of guy you'd want to be rescued by. Spike, who loved a good fight as much as the next vampire, was a little taken aback by this sudden - and previously untapped - rather girly urge to be rescued. However, drawing on his memories of Xander looking out for him when he'd been human, he had to admit that being rescued by Xander would have all kinds of good points. Xander glanced at him and Spike dropped his eyes from his now blatant stare before he lost control and begged Xander to go to bed with him tonight and marry him tomorrow.
"So ... uh ...h-how've you been?" Spike asked awkwardly as he fumbled for his smokes, searching in all his pockets before he found them.
Xander took a sip of his beer. "I'm drinking with you, does this not convey how utterly my life has turned to crap?"
"Oh, well that's ...uh ..."
"Oh don't act like you're not pleased."
"Pleased your life is crap, or pleased you're drinking with me?"
Xander looked at him with narrowed eyes. "You tell me."
"I invited you didn't I?" Spike said evasively, and instantly wished he hadn't. If he didn't get a grip and stop gazing yearningly at him, and dropping coy little hints Xander would soon work out there was more on Spike's mind than a sudden yen for male company. Something told Spike Xander wasn't quite ready for that yet, not on their first 'date'.
He looked at Xander, noticing how he looked a little tired, how underneath the casual 'don't care' remarks about his life being crap, there was an tone of unhappy regret. "Are you really missing her?" Spike asked quietly.
Sadness flared in Xander's eyes and he glanced away briefly, his shoulders tensing, momentarily surprised out his nonchalant demeanour. "Yeah."
A pang shot through Spike, an ache that Xander's feelings - even sad ones - were still bound up in someone else, and a yearning to do *something* to chase the unhappiness away. He couldn't exactly make a promise that as long as he had strength in his body he would do anything it took to make Xander happy - but he'd work with what he did have. He pulled out his lighter and said casually; "Y'know if you're really feeling that crap you could threaten to kill me. That always seems to cheer you up."
Xander nodded, relaxing again and looking a tiny bit amused. "That would help. It creates a comfort zone."
"Go on then."
"Okay. Spike, you need something wooden jammed in your heart, I'd like to volunteer for the job."
"There, feel better?" Spike asked.
"Much. Thanks."
"Glad to be of service," Spike rejoined, then instantly loathed himself for sounding like a pert serving wench. He tried to light his cigarette but the bloody lighter wouldn't spark. He tried more viciously than needed and it sprang out of his hand and clattered to the floor, of course Xander was watching with an amused grin. Damn.
Spike quickly bent down to pick it up in an effort to move away from this embarrassing moment as swiftly as possible. A ploy that might have worked if he'd been looking at what he was doing instead of shrivelling in embarrassment. He cracked his head violently on the table with an impact he could feel from the blossoming ball of agony exploding on his forehead, right the way down to his toes, and that had people turning around from three tables away to see what had happened.
"Ouch!" Xander winced. "That had to hurt! Are you alright?"
Spike managed to lift his head. "Oh yeah." He shrugged and rolled his teary eyes to imply that in no way did he feel like he was going to pass out. "You know me. Pretty tough." His forehead was throbbing angrily and the way Xander was staring at it with a mixture of fascination and revulsion told Spike that it was coming up in one hell of a bump. Spike tried to look cool and unconcerned, but could feel his face slipping into an expression of heart-breaking desperation. //Don't look at me!// Spike inwardly wailed. //I'm a mess!// He wanted to run home, and lie sobbing under the covers.
"You sure?" Xander said, addressing the bump rather than Spike. "I don't want you passing out on me, 'til I've told you I hate you a few more times."
"Oh thanks," Spike muttered. Some great night this was turning out to be. Xander would never actually like him.
Xander managed to tear his eyes away from Spike's forehead to look at his face. "And until I've bought you a beer, y'know since I drank most of your whisky the other night." Xander gave him a slightly embarrassed, but nonetheless, genuine smile, and suddenly despite the sick pain in his head, Spike felt like the luckiest guy in town.
***
Xander sipped his beer and felt his lips quirk slightly as he watched Spike tentatively investigating the truly impressive lump on his forehead. Spike was being very strange tonight. For a start he was actually being nice. He hadn't even mentioned the cab-fare money from the other night, and he seemed nervous. Hell, he was being *clumsy*. Xander was used to seeing Spike move with an arrogant, flowing grace, as irritating as it was impressive. In fact a while back at the impromptu party they had thrown to celebrate the Magic Box being open for a week, the champagne had been flowing and he'd heard a giggly Dawn say to Tara; 'Do you think Spike ... you know, the same way he fights?' Although he'd quickly blocked his ears - and his mind - he could kind of understand what she meant. Spike never seemed to mess up, or fumble. He knew what he wanted and got it. Tonight, seeing the edge taken off his characteristic confidence reminded him of William, and was almost endearing. Of course Xander was still a little stumped as to *why* Spike was acting like a nervous teenager.
Spike caught his eye, and smiled shyly. Xander began to toy with the idea of concussion as a cheerful rock song came on over the speakers, Spike absentmindedly hummed a snatch.
"You like Pink?" Xander asked surprised and amused. // Not of course that I'd use this information for blackmail ... much.// Spike had always done his damnedest to come across as a purely 'thrash-metal' sort of guy.
Spike started then looked briefly mortified. "She's catchy is all! Do ... you like her?"
"Oh you're not gonna catch me out that easily. Something tells me the next round is on you Spike."
"Damn," Spike said, smiling slightly. There was a moments pause. "So ... who do you like?" Spike blurted out quickly. Xander raised his eyebrows.
"And since when have you been interested in my musical taste?"
"Just making conversation Harris," Spike said casually, as he gazed into his beer as though he'd never seen anything quite like it before.
"Well stop. It's freaking me out." Then he relented. If Spike did have concussion the best thing for him would be to keep talking. "Dingo's were great before Oz left."
"Yeah, Dog-Boy could play."
"I didn't know you'd heard him," Xander commented.
"You'd be surprised on the close tabs I kept on you and yours."
Xander decided not to pursue that one. "I thought the Sex Pistols were more your thing."
"How did you know that?" Spike asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.
Xander had a sudden flashback to the night he'd come across Harmony trying to burn Spike's CD's, and the fight he tried never to think of. Even by his extremely low standards, that one had to be at about ant level.
"Oh, just a wild guess," he said airily.
Spike looked at him appraisingly for a moment, then apparently decided to drop the subject. "Yeah, they're ok. Along with Marilyn Manson, Alice Cooper ... 'Sex, Death and Money', now that's my kinda ..."
"Are we still talking about music?" Xander jibed, a slightly hard tone to his voice.
"It's one of his songs!" Spike said indignantly. "Talk about bloody stereotyping, you think us ..."
"Demons?" Xander suggested coolly.
"Living impaired." Spike said pronouncing clearly, "have only got a one track mind - I happen to like doing other stuff than killin', shaggin' and squeezing money out of you lot."
"Yeah I can see by your musical taste what a shy, sensitive guy you are." Xander scoffed, aware that there was rather more edginess in that sentence than a simple discussion of musical taste warranted. What could he say. The two of them had issues.
"I like doing other stuff." Spike repeated emphatically. "Watching 'The Simpson's', playing cards, I even read a book now and then. And I like different types of music."
"Okay, like what?"
"I don't put it about!" Spike spluttered. "I have got the remains of a rep you know. I'm a laughing stock as it is, if it gets out I like soft stuff I'll probably have my lunch money stolen."
For a second Xander felt a twinge of sympathy, he'd used that same technique himself, joking to hide the fear that one day the bigger boys were gonna get him, and he'd never really considered - or cared - how hard it must be for Spike, cut off and chipped. But still, it was no reason to sympathise with him because he couldn't kill people anymore. And definitely no reason to let him off the hook on the music question.
"Come on Spike, I'm not gonna tell anyone. Quit stalling and tell me."
"No."
"What is it? Britney Spears?"
Spike turned a peculiar shade of green. "No!" he choked, his eyes darting uneasily from side to side. "And sod off. I'm not telling you."
"Ah, so you're a 'New Kids on the Block' man!"
"Harris in a minute you're gonna be wearin' that beer."
"Hey there's no shame in it Spike ... If you're eleven, and had your good taste surgically removed at birth."
"I do *not* listen to 'New Kids on the soddin' Block'." Spike growled.
"So who then?" Xander pressed.
Spike sighed and rolled his eyes, and finally said; "Okay. Um ... uh Frank Sinatra."
"Frank Sinatra?" Xander repeated incredulously.
"Hey the guy could hold a tune, you know?" Spike said defensively. "'Sides, you can't listen to the heavy stuff all the time."
Xander nodded, desperately trying to hold back a splutter of laughter. He had an image of Spike wearing a fedora, crooning to 'Something Stupid' when he was alone at night, and try as he might the image wouldn't go away. He couldn't help it, a snort escaped.
"You see!" Spike snapped. "That's exactly why I didn't want to tell you!"
"Sorry, don't sulk," Xander said, choking back the chuckles and regaining control. "No problem with Frank - I just never pictured you as the type of guy who'd like Old Blue Eyes, you're just full of surprises."
"You have *no* idea," Spike muttered, Xander raised a questioning eyebrow, but before he could ask what *that* meant, Spike had changed tones and was talking; "So come on, your turn. Who do you like?"
Xander shrugged. "It depends what mood I'm in." He sort of coughed over the next word; "'untry when I'm feeling blue, rock when I want to let of steam and break out my boogie shoes. I've even got some sensitive girly music to make lurrrve to." The last he said in an exaggerated French accent.
Spike smiled slightly but there was a flash of ... something in his eyes that made Xander flush and feel a little bit stupid, Spike was probably laughing at him inwardly. Xander dropped his eyes from Spike's, shifting slightly under his gaze. For some reason it was making him feel ... not uncomfortable exactly, just a little ... strange. There was a moment's silence. Xander felt like he ought to make a joke, but for once couldn't think of anything to say.
"You want another beer?" Spike asked, changing the mood so suddenly Xander jumped.
Xander shrugged. "I should probably get home." It was strange. The words came unhesitatingly out of his mouth. They made perfect sense, and yet he didn't seem to believe them, even as he was saying them.
"Alright. If you want."
Xander frowned, he couldn't help feeling he shouldn't be spending time with a guy he disliked intensely, but it was early yet and he really didn't seem to want to leave. All that was waiting for him was an empty apartment, and Spike *was* behaving okay tonight, (although that was probably the concussion). However he did have some standards; he couldn't spend the whole night just hanging out with Spike - again - could he? With relief Xander spotted the pool table. Of course! He hadn't played pool yet, that was why he didn't want to go. And tonight with Spike having concussion and all, he was probably in with a good shot a winning.
"Okay, just a couple more beers, you order 'em and I'll go snag the pool table, and get ready to be beaten Concussion-Boy."
Spike smiled, his eyes bright. He seemed to be recovering his confidence and strangely, it didn't piss Xander off. "Harris, if I was blind I'd still beat you."
"That can be arranged," Xander offered.
"I haven't gotten laid in months," Spike said dryly. "Trust me, if I was gonna go blind it would have happened long ago."
Xander choked. "Spike, that comes under the heading of *waaay* too much information, okay?" But he was grinning as he said it.
***
"Bollocks, you tosser!" Spike was saying passionately some time later, in some might say, a somewhat unfair character assassination, considering his earlier statement. "The best Simpson's character is Mr. Burns - people just don't appreciate the effort it takes to be that evil."
"No way! Homer is the King!"
"Oh come *on* - a fat, stupid, bald guy? And how did a guy that looks like him get a knockout like Marge?"
"So blue hair does it for you? That's ... scary, Spike."
Spike shrugged, and shot him a sidelong glance. "Nah, I've always had a thing for brunettes myself. H-how about you, do you prefer ... blondes?"
Xander pondered, a fleeting picture of all the girls he'd had a crush on flashing through his head. Blonde Buffy, brunette Cordelia, red-headed Willow, Anya who had been every shade of brown and blonde ... "Nah, no preference."
Spike nodded. "Right." There was a moments silence as Spike studied the arrangement the balls had formed on the pool table, deliberating which to go for. By this time they'd had two games, both of which Spike - despite his possible concussion - had won, and it was looking like he was going the right way to win this one.
"So c'mon," Xander said impatiently. "Take your shot."
"I'm gettin' to it," Spike replied as he lazily strolled around the table. "You're eager for me to beat you for the third time on the trot aren't you? Guess this proves who the better pool player is, when even with 'concussion', I still win. "
"Spike, all this proves is your head is so thick that hitting a stationary object extremely hard makes no difference, and hey, I already knew that. I will however challenge you to another game, another time, just to be sure tonight wasn't a fluke."
"Oh," Spike said lightly as he paused in his wanderings, chalking the tip of his cue slightly more thoroughly than seemed needed. "You mean you want to ... meet up with me again?"
"Well, it's getting beaten - or not as the case may be - at pool, or Hugh Grant with the chicks. Hand me a pool cue any day of the week."
"Ugh," said Spike, sounding decidedly chipper for a discussion on Hugh Grant, as he took his shot, and the ball raced eagerly towards the pocket. He stepped back and picked up his beer. "That guy gives British Guys a bad name. Plus the flicks he does are so wet."
"Tell me about it," Xander said with fervent understanding as he surveyed the table. "Last night they had me watching 'Four Weddings and a Funeral'."
"Ack. Give me some violence or I'm straight to sleep."
"We're not actually discussing your sex life right now, Spike."
Xander snickered as Spike choked on his beer.
"I'm not ... I mean occasionally Dru would ... but not ... uh ..."
"I'm kidding!" Xander interrupted before Spike let some information slip that they would both wish he'd kept to himself. "And yeah, I think directors should have a rule. More explosions than dialogue. That's what makes a classic movie." He took his shot. Missed, but did manage to put Spike in a tricky position for a shot.
"You said it," Spike agreed. He frowned thoughtfully at the table, wandering around it before settling on a position, and leant way over the table, his T-shirt riding up a little, revealing a strip of pale skin. Xander grinned to himself and moved to stand next to him as Spike carefully lined up his shot.
"Hey Spike, you ticklish?" Xander asked innocently as he playfully flicked his fingers over the exposed skin. Spike leapt like a scalded cat, the cue slipped and the ball shot off the table with a clatter. Xander doubled over with laughter, as Spike, looking adorably flustered, darted his eyes from the table, to the ball, back to Xander. He swiftly tucked his T-shirt back in, and shot a glare at Xander.
"You bloody cheat!"
"What? I asked an innocent question, to which the answer was obviously a resounding 'yes'! Don't worry Spike, I won't use this information to make your life hell. Much." He feigned a tickle attack at Spike's ribs, and Spike jumped back nervously, bumping into the table, but he was smiling too.
"Sorry," Xander lied through a huge grin. //I should have done that *years* ago// The sight of Spike watching him with an air of suspicion and anticipation was enjoyable in the extreme. "No, really take your shot, I'll go over there."
Strangely Spike looked almost disappointed for a moment. He picked up the ball and placed it back in its approximate position, and leant back over the table, watching Xander warily all the while. Xander gave him a teasing wink. Spike took his shot - and missed quite spectacularly.
"Ooh, a swing and a miss for Concussion Boy," Xander commented gleefully. He chose his shot, and made it easily. He was quite a bit behind Spike in the game, so he wasn't really expecting to beat him, but for the rest of the game Spike seemed unsettled, his concentration shot. More than once Xander caught Spike glancing at him surreptitiously, visibly vibrating as Xander passed close to him. //Wow - he is *so* paranoid about being tickled!// Xander thought with amusement as he began to catch up, then -metaphorically speaking - kick Spike's ass all over the pool table.
Soon he was just about to pot his final ball in an easy shot, and was looking forward to a sweeping victory, (and possibly doing a little dance as well, just to rub Spike's nose in it) when the table seemed to shift slightly, just as he took his shot. They watched, Xander in disbelief, Spike in delight as he jabbed the ball violently and inexpertly with the cue. It missed the pocket, bouncing off the side and scuttling to the other side of the table.
"The table moved!" Xander protested.
"Oh, yeah!" Spike crowed. "That's the most pathetic excuse I've ever heard, the table moved ..."
Then Spike staggered sideways with a little yelp that he would deny forever after, as the whole *room* moved. A chorus of surprised yells hit the air as everything rocked, the tables and chairs, the bar, the staircase. The ground shook under Xander's feet, and he grabbed onto the pool table for balance. Some lights on the ceiling, shaken free from their position, crashed to the floor, mercifully not hitting anyone. The wires snapped with a fiery cascade of sparks shooting up into the air, then all the lights flickered and went out. The Bronze was plunged into pitch black and the ground rocked again, more violently than before. The table shifted away from Xander's hands, he could hear several clatters that indicated the balls were bouncing off it. He managed to stay on his feet, but felt paralysed with nerves now he had nothing to hold onto.
"WHAT the bloody HELL...?" Spike's voice roared out of the darkness.
"Its an earthquake you idiot!" Xander shouted in the approximate direction where Spike's voice was coming from. Someone hurtled into his back, knocking him painfully with their elbow, and forcing him to shoot forward a few steps under the momentum.
"Ow! Hey watch it, don't panic ..."
It was useless - people were badly spooked, and the cries and shouts filling the Bronze drowned out his voice. Plus the fact he was feeling more than a little panicked himself. Although the ground had stopped shaking, no progress was being made with the lights, and he could hear people charging blindly about. Various unhappy scenarios, mostly involving being trampled to death were streaming through his head. His eyes were open as wide as they could go, and he couldn't even distinguish a slightly darker black spot from just the general blackness, that might indicate someone was about to run into him. No sooner had he thought it then someone *did* slam into him. He stumbled back and his foot landed on one of the fallen pool balls. In a second of horror-stricken realisation his arms flailed wildly for balance, and failed. He flew backwards, bracing himself for the impact - but never hit the floor. //WHAT the FU ...?// Somehow he was floating with his upper body a foot above the ground, his feet scrabbling uselessly for a purchase on the ground. After a stunned moment, he realised that someone had tight hold of him under the arms.
"People are running at you like you're a punch bag. We need to get out of here." Spike's voice spoke next to his ear, making Xander jump in shock.
"Gee, y'think so?" Xander snapped, as Spike pushed him back up to his feet and he broke away from him. "And how are we meant to do that when we can't see ..."
"I can see," Spike interrupted impatiently.
"Oh," Xander felt himself flush a little. Of *course* Spike could see - how else did he think Spike had caught him? "Vamp vision. Right."
"Grab hold of my arm."
"I can't see your arm."
"Oh, right." Spike sounded a little uncomfortable, and there was an odd quiver in his voice, that sounded almost like nerves - or excitement. Typical vampire revelling in the chaos. "Okay, hang on, just let me ..."
And Spike's arm was slipping around his waist.
For a second Xander caught his breath.
Maybe Spike did too.
Then Spike was holding him in a firm, reassuring clasp; "C'mon," he said nudging Xander. "It's this way."
"Oh. Erm ..." Xander stared utterly blankly out into the black void where he could hear yells, and people smashing into things. "I dunno Spike ..."
"Xander we need to get out, it's not safe!" Spike snapped, his voice taut with frustration, then he added in a more gentle tone; "It'll be alright, I'll lead you. Trust me."
"You serious?" Xander questioned shrilly.
"I'm not going to make you walk into a wall if that's what you're worried about," Spike said impatiently, then sounding slightly amused; "Of course if you prefer it I can always carry you - "
"And we're walking!" Xander interrupted, taking a tentative step out. Oh crap. Oh crap. Oh crap. He was all turned around and didn't have a clue which way they were going. All he could see was black, black, and more black. //Yeah, that decision to black out the windows was really a touch of genius guys!// Although he knew it was nuts he felt like he was about to walk straight into a pit, or that monsters were hovering all around him, just waiting for the right moment to rip into him. This being Sunnydale, maybe he wasn't being that paranoid. All he could hear were yells and people brushing past ... and Spike. Holding onto him tightly, talking him through it soothingly.
"Okay, take a big step, there's wires on the floor ... yeah, that's it. Over this way now, or you'll walk into the staircase ... " Spike's free hand suddenly pressed firmly against Xander's chest, halting his faltering progress. "Stand still a minute, wait for this wanker to pass ..." Someone pushed past Xander so close his hair lifted in the breeze, and shit this was so *creepy*. Apparently unable to stop himself, his arm shot around Spike's waist, and gripped him tightly. Xander made a mental note to be embarrassed about this later. Talk about any port in a storm, he'd obviously cling to anyone in a blackout.
"O-okay," Spike said, his voice higher pitched than usual. "Lets go, nearly there ..." Xander took a deep breath and stepped forward again, still clinging to Spike.
"I don't usually do this on a first date y'know," Xander quipped, trying to calm his terrified, frantic heart that was thudding rapidly and kept making a concerted effort to leap up into his throat.
"Don't worry, I won't tell anyone," Spike reassured him, sounding a little breathless, Xander wondered a little guiltily if he was holding on too tight, and tried to get his fingers to loosen their death grip on Spike, but couldn't physically do it. Another shock, a very mild one compared to the others vibrated the floor under their feet, and more yells filled the air, as he clung to Spike more tightly than ever.
"Oh, Spike is the Earth moving for you too?" Xander gasped, feeling hysterical giggles welling up in his chest.
Spike gave a low laugh, that somehow had a bit of an edge to it. "It really is. C'mon you're doing *great*, we're there, I've just got to ...oh bugger."
"What is it?"
"The doors slipped in the frame - that's probably why no-one else has got out yet, even if they find the bloody thing, they can't open it, hang on a sec, I'll just ..."
The next thing Xander felt Spike give a sort of jump and jolt, there was a cracking of wood, the door flew open and they were spilling out into the night air, where the street lights and the moonlight flooded Xander's eyes. He blinked in the welcome light, it was such a relief to *see* again. All at once he felt a million times better, and a little silly for being so freaked out in there. He disentangled himself from Spike, and looked back at the door. "Did you kick that down?"
"Yeah."
"Nice!" Xander said impressed. Other people inside the Bronze spotted the exit, and quickly began to surge out. He and Spike headed away quickly before they got caught up in the crowd. Xander took a deep breath, as they walked, and he began to shake off his panic. The world looked reassuringly normal, the Bronze had probably got the worst of it since the lights had fused. More of the famous Xander Harris luck working for him there. Of course it could have been a whole lot worse if Spike hadn't been there. Although, now they were safely out, the embarrassment about draping himself over Spike like a girl having the vapours had arrived bang on time.
Xander shot Spike a sideways glance, as they walked. "Hey, um ...thanks for the help in there," he said, a little awkwardly. "You'd make a great guide dog."
Spike glanced at him, and gave him a smile. "Don't mention it. Glad to help."
There was a pause.
"So - a night out Sunnydale style, huh?" Spike said.
"Oh yeah, that's my home town - filled with spills, kills and chills. Gotta say, at least thanks to living in constant terror, it's never dull here. What do think - apocalypse?"
Spike shook his head decidedly. "I haven't heard about any new big bad about to spring up - and there's usually *something*, rumours, or you can smell it in the air. I think it's just Southern California."
"Well that's a relief," Xander said thankfully. "Apocalypses are time consuming, and I've got a load of work on at the minute. Buff is gonna be *freaking* about this though."
"What, she's not keen on earthquakes?"
"Everytime there's been one while she's been here she's either died or nearly died. That kinda thing can really put a crimp on your day. So yeah - earthquakes lead to an edgy Slayer."
"Better not sneak up behind her then."
"You think I've got a death wish?"
They grinned at each other, then Xander checked his watch. "I'd really better get home," he said, slightly reluctantly. Tonight, surprisingly, had been the most fun he'd had since Anya had left. Earthquakes notwithstanding. "I'd better ring the others, check they're all okay, and I've got an early start tomorrow."
"Yeah," Spike said, sounding a little subdued all at once. "C'mon then, lets get you back."
"Um ... you don't have to see me home," Xander stuttered, both surprised and uncomfortable. "I'll be fine, you really don't have to bother."
"Yeah then I'll just be up all night worrying," Spike said, his voice sounding a little tense.
"You'd worry?" Xander repeated in astonishment, even as he began to smile at Spike. A feeling he couldn't identify, but felt suspiciously good and warm was unfurling inside him.
"Yeah 'bout myself," Spike said quickly. "You know the Slayer'll drown me in holy water if anything happens to you."
"Oh." The warm, happy feeling was instantly doused and the good 'two-guys-together' vibe that had developed over the evening abruptly vanished as he simmered in anger. Typical - just fucking *typical*, even *Spike* thought he needed looking after, and Spike wasn't even doing it because he cared one way or another. The only thing he was bothered about was keeping Buffy off his back.
"So are you coming or what?" Spike said impatiently as he realised Xander wasn't following him.
"Look I said it's okay," Xander said petulantly, folding his arms and standing exactly where he was.
Spike rolled his eyes. "C'mon Xander, just let me see you home. There's just been an earthquake for cryin' out loud, and you of all people know it's not safe here at night! All sorts of scary things could be lurking."
"Oh yeah, what a great way to be safe from scary things in the dark, to walk *with* a scary thing in the dark."
"It didn't bother you in the Bronze just now!" Spike snapped.
"Shut up! You don't have to treat me like I'm helpless you know!" Xander shouted defensively, furious - and hurt - and *embarrassed*, his face flaming at the memory of how only a few moments ago he had indeed been clinging helplessly to Spike. "Just because Anya thought I was the useless, most-likely-to-get-killed one in the gang, and just because I don't have bat vision and needed some help in there, doesn't mean I need walking home like I'm *Dawn*! I have been fighting the lurking evil for a few years and I'm not a kid anymore I'm a ..." he paused, his face getting even hotter, but finished defiantly; " ... man."
He looked at Spike, daring him to laugh and bracing himself for the mockery sure to follow, but Spike wasn't laughing. Spike's jaw was suddenly cast in iron, like he was holding himself back. His gaze flickered over Xander; and Xander's anger vanished as quickly as it had come. Replaced with an uncomfortable, confused feeling, because there was something there. Something that he couldn't place, and certainly hadn't expected to find in Spike's gaze. Xander found himself tensing, wondering wildly if he'd pissed Spike off somehow, because Spike almost looked like he was about to grab him.
But Spike didn't move. He swallowed and nodded slowly. "So you are. And I don't think you're helpless. Or useless. Or a teenage girl. So what if you can't see in the dark? I can't take a stroll in the sun. I know you can handle yourself. But you'll still need help if you're outnumbered five to one, so I either walk with you or follow you. Up to you."
For a long moment Xander just stared at Spike, his mouth slightly open in shock. Spike looked back at him, his eyes dark, and utterly serious. Xander didn't know if he was astounded at the way Spike had so calmly handed him his pride back, flattered that Spike obviously *was* concerned about his well-being, or completely confused. What he did know was that the warm, good feeling was making a tentative recovery. However he had his newly discovered male dignity to hang on to so he covered it with a nervous laugh. "My very own stalker, huh? It's tempting, but you may as well walk with me, so you can hear me complaining."
Spike nodded with a touch of relief, and they fell into step together. The walk home was silent, despite Xander's threat to complain, he couldn't quite bring himself to do it. He felt too confused to do anything as straightforward as complain. Tonight had been *weird*, and he didn't mean the earthquake. That barely rated a mention against the feelings that Spike was causing, from the extremely unexpected, and slightly scary warm fuzzies to the weird tension that had simmered up and was still hanging between them now. What the hell was going on? Maybe they were both in shock, Xander fixed on the idea with relief. What with the earthquake, and Spike's concussion, no wonder Spike was acting strange, and no wonder he was *feeling* strange.
"Well thanks," Xander said awkwardly as they arrived at his apartment, and he turned to say goodbye to Spike. "Sure you don't want to come in and check under the bed?" Spike's eyes widened and for some reason Xander began to blush and babble in a way he hadn't since he was sixteen. "Kidding! There's nothing there, at least I don't think so - I haven't cleaned under there since I moved in - but don't worry I can handle those pesky dust-bunnies -"
"Sure you can," Spike agreed vigorously.
"Plus, I've still got Petunia there, keeping guard, oh did you want her back, I could run in and get her -"
"Nah, you hold on to her for now."
Xander nodded, mercifully managing to shut up, God, what was *wrong* with him tonight? "Well ... goodnight then."
Spike's eyes rested on him for a moment. "'Night," Spike said so suddenly Xander jumped, moving to walk away.
"Hey!" Xander said suddenly.
Spike stopped. "What?"
"Well um ..." Xander searched for the right words. He needed some answers but the problem was he wasn't even sure what the questions were. "Tonight ... before the earth started shaking, it was ...um ... fun."
Spike nodded. "Yeah, it was," he agreed in a low voice, drifting a little closer to Xander.
"And well I was wondering ...why? I mean why are you being like this?" Xander asked awkwardly feeling strangely like although he had hit on the right question, somehow he was asking it wrong.
"Like what?" Spike asked warily.
"Like, almost, okay to be with."
Spike sighed, and rubbed the back of his neck thoughtfully, as though he was trying to decide what to say. "Well, you were ... decent to me when I was split."
Xander felt his cheeks flush. Not that he'd done anything to be embarrassed of with human Spike, but still, the slight affection he'd begun to feel for the guy wasn't something he really wanted Spike to know about. He'd make Xander's life hell. He looked at Spike narrowly. "I thought you didn't remember that."
"I remember bits. I remember you being less of a git than you usually are when I had my back against the wall - I just figured, since your life is so crap and all, maybe I could return the favour."
"Oh, well thanks. I think." Xander said in surprise. He could be wrong, but at least part of that had sounded like Spike wanted to help him out. Another shock, frankly Xander wasn't sure how many more shocks he could take tonight. There was a moments pause. He had the crazy feeling he was waiting for something, but he didn't know what. "Well goodnight -"
"Hey," Spike said hurriedly, "So I thought, maybe we could umm ..." Spike paused and looked acutely embarrassed, " ...hang out a bit. Y'know, if you want to."
"Oh!" Xander said blankly, utterly flabbergasted. Spike looked at him hopefully, and panicked, Xander tried to back up his exclamation of astonishment with some words.
"Umm."
He tried again, coming out with; "Aaaah."
//Oh come on mouth! You've been forming words for years, often miles ahead of my brain, why have you frozen now?// He couldn't help it though, under his amazement those good, warm feelings were staging a full on take over bid. Spike wanted to be his bud, William was still in there, and for a crazy moment Xander almost wanted to hug him. He didn't though - he felt he'd had more than enough 'embraces' with Spike for one evening. A guy had to draw the line somewhere after all.
Xander managed get a grip on his ridiculous emotions, enough to cobble together a few words, but he couldn't stop the bright grin he could feel spreading across his face. "You know I hate you right?"
Spike's mouth began to grow into a brilliant smile. "Oh yeah, me too, I lie awake at night thinking about how much I um ... hate you."
"Good as long as that's nice and clear."
A beat.
"So," Spike said. "You want to go the flicks this week?"
"To see something mindless and explosive?"
"What else?"
"I'm in."
Continued in the next part
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