Belonging

by RubyWisp

Part One

Belonging...

Something Xander had never really experienced.

He didn't like to think he belonged in that collection of drunks, losers and users that he was reluctantly related to, but he never seemed to fit anywhere else either, no matter how hard he tried. He wasn't a jock or a brain, and there wasn't exactly a club for class clowns that he could have joined when he was still in high school.

There'd been the brief, shining moment on the swim team, but that was more about helping Buffy than anything else. As far as the slaying went, well - there was a reason he was Doughnut Guy, wasn't there? Sure, he could research, and he could "patrol" with the others - but that usually ended with Buffy pulling his ass out of whatever corner he'd managed to get thrown into when the fighting started.

The truth was, Xander never belonged anywhere. Except with Willow - she'd been his right arm, his best friend - the person with whom he shared everything. Until they'd decided to add kissing to their list of Thing Best Friends Do For Each Other, right behind "giving the shovel talk to prospective boy/girlfriends" and just before "helping each other not to make major mistakes - like cheating on your boy/girlfriend", apparently. Oops.

Now even his relationship with Will wasn't what it used to be - there was always going to be that residual awkwardness, that recognition that they'd crossed a line they had no business being anywhere near, and aren't we just much too aware that I'm a guy and she's a girl and doesn't that screw it all up nicely. Even if she is a lesbian now. ((And how odd is that? Why couldn't she have discovered that a couple of years sooner - like, say - before we kissed and hurt two people we cared about?)) Not that he thought it was all Willow's fault - he knew better than that. But still, it would have solved a lot of problems before they ever happened.

Of course, this is the Life of Xander Harris, and we can't have easy, now can we? Not even when we ((I? What pronoun should I be using here, exactly? Will, where are you when I need you? My inner voice needs an English tutor)) have a gorgeous girlfriend with a great body who wants to give me ((us? Arrgh!)) orgasms every time we're together. Not that there's anything wrong with that. Orgasms are good - orgasms with a beautiful girlfriend who loves you and wants nothing more than to marry you are even better.

Unless you've realized that you don't really want to be married. The house, the kids, the white picket fence, the minivan and all those things that Anya wants so badly, wants to wrap around her and brandish as proof of her humanity, Xander is no longer sure he wants at all. He doesn't think he belongs in that life, either.

He knows he's human - all too human, in fact. He's reminded of it every time he can't run fast enough, can't hit hard enough. When he can't find a way to make the demon that's got an iron grip on the scruff of his neck let go so that he can kill it himself instead of being rescued by a little blonde thing that looks like she shouldn't even be able to lift that axe, much less swing it through the neck of the demon that has now let go of Xander. And oozed neon purple slime all over his work boots. Ewww.

"Thanks, Buff. Again." Xander grinned wryly at his friend, as she used the axe to scrape some of that purple slime off the soles of her own, much prettier, boots.

"No problem Xan. Saving people from gruesome death at the hands of even more gruesome monsters is what I do, right? Speaking of monsters, at least it was me who saved your neck this time, instead of Spike." Buffy perked up, "Hey, not only did I save your life, he has one less thing to tease you about later!" She smiled widely, "Making sure Spike has less fun is always of the good."

"'S not what you were saying a few weeks ago, Slayer," Spike smirked as he walked up behind Buffy, taking a drag off his cigarette. "I recall it was more along the lines of 'Harder, Spike, harder!! I thought that was all kinds of fun, m'self.'"

"Shut up, Spike," Buffy and Xander chorused, Buffy blushing furiously, Xander with a look of disgust.

"What? It's true, innit? There she was, lyin' on the floor of m'crypt, naked and sweaty and ow!" Spike yelped as Xander used the flat side of the axe he'd grabbed from Buffy to whack the vampire on the side of his head. "Not fair! I can't even hit you back, you bloody cheat!"

"Yeah, and that's the point, isn't it? Leave her alone, Spike. It's bad enough she... that you two did the thing you did, where you were, just shut up about it, already! Nobody cares!" Xander handed the axe back to Buffy and glared at Spike.

Spike snorted. "You care. Otherwise you wouldn't be runnin' about, walloping me with sharp bladed weapons just 'cause I feel like sharin', now would you?"

Spike's eyes narrowed as he took another hit off his cigarette. "Oh, that's the problem, eh? I hit a little too close to home? Peaches told me you had a thing for the Slayer - you still carryin' a torch for her? Is that why you decided not to marry the demon girl?"

Xander almost corrected Spike, almost reminded him that it was "ex" demon girl, but then he remembered that it wasn't true anymore. Anya had somehow managed to persuade D'Hoffryn to give her back her old job as a vengeance demon, once she'd realized that Xander meant it, that he didn't want to marry her. Xander breathed a silent sigh of relief, thanking whoever decided these things that Anya wasn't allowed to use her newly regained powers on her own behalf. Otherwise, he was sure that he'd be missing a penis right about now. Or it would be growing out of his forehead, covered with something disgusting and no doubt smelly.

"Spike, unless you want to be greeting the sunrise from my balcony instead of my nice dark living room, I suggest you give it a rest already. I haven't had a crush on Buffy since high school and you know it. I just didn't want to get married - why is that so hard for everybody to believe?" Xander sighed; he was so tired of everybody poking and prodding, wanting to why he'd broken it off with Anya. He didn't really know, himself - he only knew that the closer he got to the wedding, the more certain he was that he couldn't go through with it. Wasn't supposed to marry Anya. He'd lived on the Hellmouth long enough to know when to go with his instinct, he just wished he didn't have to try to explain it.

Buffy broke into the verbal boxing match. "Guys? As thrilling as this is, I need to go. I promised Dawn I'd be home early tonight. She rented a movie and we're going to eat pizza and bond. So try not to kill each other - well, if you really want to dust him, Xander, I won't object, it's not like I understand why you let him move back in with you anyway - but you're going to have to finish this round without an audience, because I'm late." The blonde carefully placed the goop-covered axe on her shoulder, taking care not to get any on her new coat, and walked off.

Xander turned away from Buffy and started walking in the other direction, towards home. "C'mon, Big Not-So Bad, let's get going. Maybe the Bugs and Daffy marathon is still showing on the Cartoon Network."

---

Sighing, Xander tried to get comfortable for what seemed like the hundredth time that night. He wondered why he hadn't fallen asleep the minute his body hit the sheets. He knew he was tired enough, but the sleeping just wasn't happening. Idly, he wondered if Spike had fallen asleep yet, or if he was twisting and turning, as unable to fall asleep as Xander.

((Probably not. He's probably sleeping the sleep of the haven't-been-innocent-in-over-a-century right now. It's not fair. He lazes around all day doing nothing but mooching off of me, while I bust my ass working, and I'm the one that can't fall asleep at night. Something is definitely wrong with this picture.))

It never had occurred to Xander before now to wonder why, exactly, he let Spike "mooch off of" him, why he let Spike move into what used to be the spare bedroom. It was just something that happened, like Willow's babbling, Giles's polishing his glasses, or Buffy's threatening to stake Spike for…well, for not breathing. Just the way things were. ((Why is that? He's annoying, irritating, lazy, rude, messy, and he takes great delight in pointing out every mistake I make. Not to mention the fun he has with my clothing choices. Why do I let him live here?))

Xander pondered this for a moment and couldn't come up with anything better than "It's just the way it is". He snorted softly. ((That makes a whole lot of sense. Not.)) Xander gave a mental shrug and rolled onto his side, punching up his pillow to make it big and puffy the way he liked it. Having Spike living with him was apparently part of the natural order of the weirdness that was his life and there was no point in losing sleep over it. ((Accept it, deal and move on to dreamland, Harris. The alarm rings awfully early in the morning.))

---

"Ow!" Spike yelped, when Xander hit him as he hopped over the back of the couch and plopped down next to the vampire. "What was that for?" he asked, rubbing the back of his head.

"For eating all the Twinkies. You know I eat Twinkies when we're watching 'Baywatch'. It's the perfect fusion of television and food, and it's ruined this weekend, because there are no more Twinkies." Xander glared at Spike as he settled into his seat, making himself comfortable.

"So go buy another box, problem solved." Spike grinned, "Then you'll have Twinkies for the show, and I'll have some to eat with breakfast tomorrow. Compliments the crunch and saltiness of the Weetabix and blood perfectly, y'know."

"No, I don't know. And I could have lived the rest of my life without knowing how you profane the Twinkie goodness, thank you. I can't go now, anyway - the show's almost on. If I have to choose between watching babes in bikinis Twinkie-less or going to the store to buy you breakfast food, I think I'll stick with the babes. Why don't you try buying your own damn junk food for a change, anyway?" Xander snarled as he tore open his bag of Cheetos. Not a perfect replacement for the Twinkies, but it would have to do.

"Oi, what's crawled up your arse and died, whelp? You're actin' like somebody's gone and killed your mum." At Xander's raised eyebrow, Spike muttered, "Well, the witch then."

"Nothing. I'm fine. I broke up with my girlfriend, she of the frequent and mind-blowing sex, for reasons I have yet to discover, I have a short, dead and annoying man living with me, and I have no goddamn Twinkies! Why would anything be wrong?" Xander yelled.

"Er…'cos there's an advert for the new Star Wars movie on the telly and you have yet to yell anything about how that bloke with the big ears better die this time 'round. You're either jacked off about somethin' or - hey! I ain't short!" Spike got off the couch and stomped over to the refrigerator. Pulling out a six-pack of beer, he handed two to Xander as he sat down again. "Here, drink these. Mebbe it'll improve your disposition some."

Xander sighed. "Sorry, Spike. I have been edgy, I don't know why." He took a long pull from one of the bottles he now held. "Work's going well and there isn't much happening in the fighting-monsters department lately. But something's not right. I don't know what it is, but it's getting to me."

Spike put his booted feet up on the coffee table. "Stop brooding and drink your beer. Mebbe you'd figure it out if you relaxed a bit. You've been wound tighter than the Watcher lately, and it's gettin' on my nerves. One tall, dark and angsty in my life is enough. No need for you to start actin' like that ponce of a Sire o' mine."

At the mention of Angel, Xander grimaced. "Way to get harsh, Fangless. One order of lighthearted Xan-man coming up, as requested. You want fries with that?"

"You're lucky I can't hit you, whelp," Spike said, but grinned as he popped open one of his bottles of beer and settled in to watch the show.

---

"Erika."

"Pamela."

"I thought you had better taste than that, Shaggy. I'm disappointed in you."

"C'mon, Spike, she's gorgeous - who cares if it's fake. All I'm doing is looking. I can't believe you think Erika Eleniak is prettier than Pam Anderson. You just don't appreciate the wonders of modern medicine." Xander stopped just as he reached the front door of The Magic Box, and turned to look at the vampire, "Um, sorry about that Spike. Guess you wouldn't, after everything."

Spike shrugged his shoulders carelessly. "Don't worry 'bout it, pet. As long as nobody tries to put great bloody balloons in my chest, I'll be fine."

Xander goggled at Spike for a moment before collapsing into laughter. "That...that isn't quite what I meant, Bleach Boy," he said.

The door to the shop swung open, and Buffy stood in the doorway, arms folded. "Are you two coming in to join the rest of us, or are you just going to stand out here all night?"

Trying to calm down but failing utterly as the mental image of a certain blond vamp, running down the beach with his chest bouncing in time to unheard music, kept playing in his head, Xander nodded. "We're...we're coming in...just...just gimme a minute."

Buffy turned and walked back into the shop, letting the door fall shut behind her.

"Don't let the door hit you in the ass..." Spike murmured as he threw down his cigarette butt and ground it out under the toe of his boot.

Xander took a deep breath and gently shoved Spike towards the door. "C'mon, bad-ass vamp, let's get in there and help save the world again."

---

"As I was saying..." Giles glanced sternly over the top of his glasses at Spike and Xander, who were trying to look like they'd been listening instead of throwing bits of pizza crust at each other. Well, Xander was trying - Spike just smirked at the Watcher and tossed another piece of his half-eaten snack at a slightly embarrassed Xander. Giles pushed his glasses up on his nose and sighed, "...we don't know much about this particular demon. The Xwislats are said to be proficient in dark magicks and are solitary creatures. They're reputedly quite powerful and dangerous when provoked. That's the extent of the information I have on them, and I'm concerned about the recent appearance of a pair of them here in Sunnydale."

"You should be, Rupes," Spike said as he ducked another crust missile from Xander. Giles turned and glared at the dark-haired man, who had the sense to grin sheepishly and pop the last of his pizza into his mouth.

"Why is that, Spike? What do you know about these demons?" Giles asked, turning to face the vampire.

"Yeah, Spike - cough up the info or you'll be coughing up blood," Buffy said.

"I know they're bloody well dangerous an' it's better to stay as far away from 'em as possible. You don't want to take these things on, Slayer. Just stay away, let 'em conduct their business and leave Sunnyhell. They ain't into killin' and maimin' much, so they'll just do whatever it is they've come for and then they'll be gone." Spike glanced from Watcher to Slayer, trying to impress them with the seriousness of the situation. "I mean it. They aren't your garden-variety type monsters. Yeah, you've been fightin' all sorts o' things for years, but these'll chew you up and spit you out and then piss on what's left. Just let 'em do what they've got to do and there'll be no problem." He sat back, hoping he'd convinced them, hoping he hadn't overdone it.

Willow spoke up, "Maybe that's not such a bad idea. I don't want to think about what these things might be like if even Spike's afraid of them."

Spike glared at the redhead, "I'm not afraid! I just know better than to take on a couple of 11-foot indestructible mojo demons just because I want to get my rocks off."

Now it was Buffy's turn to glare. "It's not about 'getting my rocks off', Spike. I'm the Slayer! It's my job - my, my...sacred duty," she finished lamely, with an embarrassed glance at Giles. He smiled gently, remembering how many times she'd rolled her eyes at his use of that very phrase as he attempted to get her to take her calling more seriously.

"I dunno, Slayer. All those times you had your wicked way with me after patrollin' tell me different," Spike leered at Buffy, who promptly turned to Giles and demanded that the Watcher "Make him stop that!"

Giles removed his glasses and began polishing them. "Buffy, I'm sorry that he upset you, but I don't think that I..."

"Jeez Buff, you slept with him, he's gonna give you shit about it for the rest of your life, get over it," Xander interrupted.

"You're sticking up for him?" Buffy asked incredulously.

"What if I am? The 'Buffy hates Spike' show is old and tired. Especially now that we know it was an act," Xander said.

"It was not an act! He's evil, annoying and...and evil! I hate him! I always have!" Buffy was furious, which usually meant she was about to have people agreeing to whatever she wanted, but suddenly, Xander didn't care.

"Except for when he was naked. God, Buffy - listen to yourself. Just deal. You 'shagged' Spike. You liked it enough to do it again. And again. You lied to everyone, kept acting like nothing had changed, and then you 'shagged' him some more. Now you're done with him and you want to act like it never happened. It doesn't work that way. You don't get to decide what's best for everybody, especially when you have a habit of keeping secrets about evil vampires."

"The useless undead one is living with you, and you're lecturing me about my sex life?" Buffy put her hands on her hips and gave Xander her best 'don't mess with me, I'm dangerous' look.

Xander shrugged his shoulders. "I'm just Doughnut Boy, remember? It's not my job to slay vampires, and who I live with is my business." He turned to Spike, "Since we're obviously not needed here, let's say I buy you a beer, Blondie? Maybe kick your ass at pool?"

Spike stood up and stretched lazily, careful to keep an eye on the angry Slayer. "Sure - but it's your ass that's gonna get kicked, not mine, boy." He winked at Willow and walked out of the shop.

Buffy raised a disapproving eyebrow in Xander's general direction. "You know, being nice and taking him in because his crypt is destroyed is one thing, but playing pool? Isn't that some kind of sacred male bonding ritual? I'm a little wigged by the idea of you two being buddies - are you sure he's not putting something in your juice boxes, Xan?"

"Yeah, didn't you hear, Buff? Spike got a job at the factory just so he could lace my drinks with 'be nice to the vampire' drugs. It's quite the little scheme he's got going," Xander grinned at the expression on Buffy's face. "I know he's an annoying pain in the ass, but he's not that bad once you get past the insults and the
bad attitude."

"Whelp. We leavin' or what? I'm tired of waitin' out here for the battle-of-the-witless to end," Spike said as he poked his head through the door, half-smoked cigarette dangling from his lips.

"Coming, Fangless. Don't 'get your knickers in a twist'," Xander said.

Spike flipped him off cheerfully. "Very funny, Doughnut Boy. Very funny."

---

"When did you grow a spine? I think I'd have noticed somethin' like that," Spike asked, watching Xander as he decided which striped ball to try to sink next.

"What are you talking about? I've always had a spine...I just choose to be Agreeable Guy. Didn't feel like it today, that's all," Xander said as he knocked a ball into the corner pocket.

Spike snorted and folded his arms across his chest, leaning back against the wall. "Sure thing, mate. You're a regular Rock o' Gibraltar, you are. Never get pushed around by those women, always standin' up to 'em, tellin' 'em what's what. I'm right impressed with your bottle, Xander," Spike cooed, batting his eyelashes.

Xander rolled his eyes. "Shut up, Spike. 'Bottle?' What's that? Are you making sex jokes again? I've warned you about that. Not funny. And it's your turn, I missed that last shot while you were hitting on me."

Silently, Spike pushed himself off of the wall and sauntered over to the pool table. He looked it over carefully, taking his time, deciding which ball to shoot and how badly he could bugger Xander's chances in the process. As he leaned over to take his shot, he bumped Xander with his cue stick. Without a word, he straightened up, gestured at Xander to move, and bent over the table again, lining up his stick with the cue ball, and promptly sank the 4-ball in the side
pocket. He circled around to the other side of the table, and sank two more balls before he missed a shot. Shrugging his shoulders, he nodded his head at Xander, indicating that Xander should take his turn.

Xander stared. "You're not talking to me now? Because I don't want to listen to your perverted jokes?"

Spike merely shook his head and pointed to the pool table.

Sighing, Xander carefully shot the 11-ball into a corner pocket. "Why the sudden clam-up? Pool just isn't the same without your sarcastic commentary, y'know." He stood; squinting at the balls left on the table, he moved around Spike and sank two more before missing a shot.

The vampire ignored Xander, taking his turn in silence. He quickly sank the rest of the solid coloured balls into various corners of the table, and lined up his shot for the 8-ball. He pointed to the side pocket, indicating where he was going to sink the black ball. As the ball rolled into the indicated pocket, he turned and faced Xander, hand out, scarred eyebrow raised expectantly.

Xander pulled twenty dollars out of his jeans and handed it over to the silent vampire. "Are you going to talk again at all tonight? Because I can go home and have a better conversation than this with the television set."

Without speaking, Spike leaned his cue stick against the wall, turned and walked over to the bar and sat down. Sliding his recently acquired cash at the bartender, he only nodded when the man asked, "The usual?" After pocketing his change, he sat quietly, sipping his whisky.

Xander just stood and stared at the blond man. He didn't know what to do. I've never seen Spike quiet for this long, he thought. It was unnerving. And unsettling. Not to mention unusual. ((Oh look, alliteration. Isn't that nice.)) He knew, he just knew that he was somehow responsible for the vampire's silence. That's what he was sure Spike would say, anyway - if he were inclined to say anything at all, which was looking less and less likely.

"C'mon, talk. What's the deal? Why am I getting the silent treatment?" Xander asked, not really expecting an answer.

He should have known better.

"Just doin' what you asked, Droopy. Seein' as how you were all brave and noble earlier, standin' up to the Slayer for me, I figured the least I could do is be quiet when you asked," Spike smirked at Xander and took another sip of his whisky. "You do remember tellin' me to shut up, doncha?" Spike looked at Xander, straight-faced, and knocked back the rest of his drink. "You ready to lose more money?" Spike asked as he stood.

Shaking his head in exasperation, Xander followed Spike back over to the pool tables. "You're the one going down this time, Junior."

Spike turned and grinned widely at the dark-haired man. "If I do, what'll you do for me?"

"I said no sex jokes!"

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