Belonging
by RubyWisp
Part Two
A couple of nights later, Xander was more than willing to hear Spike make sex jokes. Longing to hear Spike insult Xander for his clothes, his hair, his miserable choices in love. Or Spike could just make fun of him generally, in that cheerfully rude way of his. Whatever. Anything. Anything at all. Just as long as it meant that Spike was there, instead of wherever he was. Which was somewhere apparently far away from Xander and the three vampires ((Of course, three. One I could handle, two - I still might stand a chance, but three...no, keep running, not going out like this)) currently chasing him as he ran not-quickly-enough through the woods hoping that on the other side of the next tree he passed, or maybe behind that big rock just up ahead, or even ((Please, God)) over that hill near the cemetery that Xander was now aiming for in the hope of running - literally, he supposed - into Buffy. Oh God, still running, still not fast enough, up and over and down again the other side and no Spike in sight, ((where is he? C'mon Spike, this isn't funny, get out here and save my ass, come on, come on, come on, oh shit I'm gonna die)) but just then there was Spike, stepping out from behind a crypt, with a cigarette in his mouth, a grin on his face, and ((thank you God)) a stake in each hand.
Spike tossed one of the stakes to Xander who came skidding to a stop on the damp grass. Spike then easily staked one of the vamps that had been chasing the boy before settling in to joyously pound the hell out of another while Xander dusted the third. Spike finished his off without even letting the ash touch his leather duster.
"Where the hell were you? I was almost a late-night snack for those guys!" Xander said as he brushed the remains of the vampire he killed off his jacket.
"'Almost' bein' the key word here, pet," Spike answered, leaning back against a nearby tombstone and lighting another cigarette, having lost his in the all-too-brief (for him) fight. "Saved your life, didn't I? No need to get all worked up about somethin' that didn't happen."
"That's not the point. We're supposed to be patrolling together. As in you, here with me, fighting the bad guys. Together! Instead of me running through the woods alone, hoping they get distracted or I somehow manage to find Buffy before I can't run any more," Xander said, trying hard to control his temper."You're still alive aren't you? And the vamps are dust. I fail to see a problem here," Spike pointed out.
"You 'fail to see a problem'. So, what - end of discussion? I don't think so, Spike!" Xander was yelling now - probably not a good idea, in the middle of a cemetery in the middle of the night, but he was so far past caring that he was an entire continent away from wherever caring lived. "Damn it, I could be dead right now! One wrong step and there'd be no more Xander for you not to patrol with!" Xander knew that hadn't come out right, but he was damned if he was thinking clearly enough to figure out what was wrong with it, so he seized on the most important point and repeated it. "Dead!"
Spike took the cigarette out of his mouth and waved it vaguely in Xander's direction. "'S not like you would've stayed dead. Not if I'd found you in time, anyway."
"What? What are you talking about?" Xander asked, not sure he wanted to know, but asking anyway.
Spike rolled his eyes and took another drag off his smoke. "I'd have turned you if they'd gotten you, pet. If I found you in time, like I said."
Some tiny thing, buried so deep inside Xander that he didn't even know it existed, leaped for joy, saw this as an admission on Spike's part that he wanted Xander to be his, to belong to him. But his conscious self didn't know that thing lived in Xander, so all he said was, "Did all that bleach sink into your skull and fry your brain? Turn me? Have you lost your fucking mind? In what alternate universe do you think I want to be a vampire?" Xander lifted his hands up, "OK, wait - don't answer that. But in this universe, I don't, and that's what's important here. Got it? No vamping of the Xan-man. I don't want to spend eternity wearing leather."
"It's better than that crap you wear now," Spike snorted. "Look mate, it's over. You're neither dead nor undead, and you can wear ugly clothes for the rest of your life. Let's go home, then."
"No." Xander folded his arms over his chest and glared at Spike.
"No, what? No, your clothes aren't uglier than a Qwerlesh demon's arse? No, you're not alive? Which you are, I can hear your bloody heart beating, remember?" Spike flicked his cigarette away. He was irritated at Xander, and angry with himself. For barely getting back to Xander in time to help, for caring whether he did or not, and explaining himself was neither something he cared to do nor something he was good at doing.
"No, I'm not going home. We're not going home. Not until I get some answers." Xander tried to look resolute and hoped that it worked half as well for him as it seemed to for Willow. "I want to know where you were, Spike. I want to know what was so fucking important that I ended up running for my life, alone."
"I had some business to take care of," Spike said carelessly, patting his pockets, trying to find his cigarettes. ((Damn it, where are they? Bloody duster, 37 pockets, got everything but m'bleedin' mum in here, and I can't find a goddamn thing.))
"Business," Xander snorted. "You're Donald Trump now? No, wait - he has better hair!" A thought slammed into Xander, doing ninety miles an hour with no brakes, and he staggered under the impact.
"Whoa," he said, backing a few steps away from Spike. "This would be business of the 'if Buffy finds out what I'm up to, I'm going to fit in an ashtray before morning' variety, right?"
"Shut your gob," Spike snarled, eyes glinting dangerously. " 'S none o' your business, and none o' hers, either. I needed some information, and I can't be out and about in the day, now can I? 'Sides, the people who got what I need, ain't fond of Slayers or her fuckin' groupies. Now, if we're fini -" Spike's not-quite-forthcoming answer was interrupted by the appearance of a large blond man at the edge of the woods.
"Spike?" The man didn't seem to see Xander as he rushed on, "Xruunas said the original time is no good. He wants you to meet him tomorr -" The rest of the message was cut off as Spike hurtled into him and knocked him to the ground.
"Subtle, Spike. I'd never guess that he's got something to tell you that you don't want me to hear," Xander said dryly. Part of his brain took note of the fact that blond man wasn't really a man, obviously, since Spike's chip didn't...oh shit, hold that thought. And back up a few feet. "Spike. You're - you're still a vampire with a chip in his head, right?" Backed up a few feet more. ((Yeah, 'cuz he'll never catch you with this head start.)) A few more steps, and, "a functional chip? As in, no hurting the humans? Which this guy appears to be, and yeah, I know appearances are deceiving and all that, but still, this isn't very comforting."
"He's half-demon, calm down. What, you think the first thing I'd do if I lost the chip is help you finish patrolling? Not bloody likely." Spike looked at the man pinned to the grass underneath him, and then over his shoulder at Xander again. Sighing, he stood up and gestured to the still-prostrate blond to do the same. "Have at it, mate." He dug into his pockets again, looking for his cigarettes. With a small shout of triumph, he pulled the slightly crumpled pack out and lit a smoke. "Well? Out with it! I'll worry about him m'self," he said with a nod at Xander.
Xander thought this wasn't very comforting either, but decided to forgo saying that in favour of getting to hear what Spike's mysterious message carrier had to say.
With a last glance at Xander, the messenger said, "You're supposed to meet him tomorrow night - same place - but, uh...2 hours later. Something came up, and he can't make it when he said he would."
"Fine." Spike said shortly. "Anything else?" When the messenger answered with a shake of his head, Spike dismissed him. "Right then. Off with you," he said, lighting a cigarette before turning to look at Xander. "I s'pose you think you need to know what that was all about?" Spike asked, with a lift of his scarred eyebrow.
"I think I've earned it," Xander shot back, folding his arms across his chest.
"I told you this didn't have anything to do with you or the bloody Slayer," Spike reminded Xander impatiently.
"Gee...why do I find it so difficult to believe you? After all, you're a model of morality and virtue, you'd never do anything to hurt any of us, or - God forbid - try to kill us, and of course you've never been known to lie..." Xander's sarcastic retort was interrupted at this point by a familiar voice.
"What's he lying about now, Xander? Trying to tell you he's a natural blond?" Buffy asked as she walked over to where the two men were standing.
Spike started to say something insulting and probably disgustingly vulgar, but Xander cut him off.
"Nothing, Buff. Spike's just trying to convince me that he's the one who convinced Elvis to wear head-to-toe black leather for his '68 Comeback Special. No biggie." ((Nothing to see here, people, move along. Don't you have monsters to slay or something?))
"Nope. Monster-slayage has ended for the night."
Oops. Gotta work harder on that inner monologue staying inner, Xander thought, but he merely grinned at Buffy. "Cool. So does this mean that Dennis-the-Bleached-Menace and I are free to go? 'Cuz there's a little lost pizza out there somewhere with my name on it, and I'm on a mission to find it and give it a good home."
Buffy laughed, "We're finished, Xan. I hope you and your pizza are very happy together." She glanced at Spike as she walked away. "Be sure and order it with extra garlic."
"Love you too, pet," Spike called after the Slayer, grinning happily when she flipped him off over her shoulder. "Nothin' like the satisfaction of a job well done. And I didn't hardly have to talk," he told Xander contentedly, as the two of them began to walk home.
"I noticed," Xander said. "Why is that, anyway? It's not like you to make with the silent around Buffy."
Spike shrugged. "You were doin' such a lovely job, pet, what with the lyin' and the coverin' up and all. I was right proud of you. Didn't want to spoil it." Spike threw an arm companionably around Xander's shoulders, "You've got a proper little streak of bad in you, you do. Never even blinked. Good job."
Xander shrugged free of Spike's arm and frowned. "I wasn't covering up for you, Spike. I have no desire to sit and watch the two of you go at it when I could be home drinking beer, eating pizza, and watching 'X-Files' reruns, that's all. Which doesn't mean that you're off the hook at all as far as explaining the covert action back there."
Spike said nothing, choosing instead to chain-smoke in silence for the rest of the walk to the apartment.
Once they arrived home, the two men occupied themselves with the prosaic tasks of getting cleaned up and preparing dinner. Xander called and ordered pizza - no garlic, please - while Spike took a quick shower. Then it was Xander's turn to wash up, while Spike drank a mug of warmed blood, smoked yet another cigarette, and tried to think of something he could tell Xander that sounded truthful, but wasn't anything close to it. Spike thought the truth wouldn't go over too well - in fact, he was liable to be greeting the dawn from the inside of Xander's vacuum cleaner if Xander knew the truth, he thought.
Trouble was, he couldn't think of anything other than the truth that would explain his disappearance and subsequent mauling of Xruunas's errand boy, and he felt a gnawing in his gut that told him Xander, for all his apparent tendencies toward idiocy, probably was well on his way to figuring it out. ((Soddin' hell. Why can't the boy be stupid, instead of just playin' at it? Last thing I need is one of those bloody Scoobies messin' with m'plan. Every bleedin' time I get close...))
A knock on the door broke into Spike's reverie. "Whelp! Food's here," he yelled at the bathroom door.
Xander emerged from the steamy bathroom, dressed in sweatpants and towelling his hair dry. "Hey, don't worry about it Spike, I'll get it. Wouldn't want you to strain anything getting up off the couch."
Spike just smirked. "Thought you'd see it my way. Don't forget to ask him for extra packets of those little peppers," he said, as he got up anyway and went to the kitchen to get more blood. Pizza just wasn't as good without a little drizzle on top. The fact that it made Xander turn green was a bonus.
"I live to serve, O Peroxided One," Xander mocked. After draping his wet towel over a nearby chair, Xander paid the delivery guy, asked for the extra peppers, and closed the door. "Grab some plates and a couple of beers, Spike. The X-Files is just about to start," he said as he turned on the television set and put the pizza box on the coffee table.
"I think you're a bit confused about who does what for whom 'round here, pup," Spike grumbled. Nevertheless, he collected two plates, a six-pack of beer and a few napkins along with his blood before he went into the living room.
"Whom? Careful, Spike, your hidden intellectual is showing," Xander teased as he served up a couple of slices of pizza for each of them.
Spike twisted the top off one of the bottles of beer and threw the cap at Xander. Taking a sip of the beer, he said, "Mind your place and shut up."
"'Mind my place'?" Xander snorted. "Yeah, right, Spike. I think you took that 'I live to serve' thing just a little too seriously. Speaking of serious things, though..." He trailed off as he began to eat his pizza.
"Hey - your show's on, lookit that." Spike said. "Wouldn't want to miss this now, right?" he asked, in a (what he already knew to be) futile attempt to avoid the subject he'd been trying to - well, avoid.
Xander picked up the remote control and turned the TV off. "It's a repeat - I've seen it, I'll live," he said. "Nice attempt at a diversion, though. You get a 9.5 for the attempt, but only a 7 for execution, since it was pretty lame."
"You've bloody well been watchin' too much ESPN, that's what," said Spike. "'Sides, that was at least an 8, an' you know it."
"Not gonna work," Xander said, his mouth full of pizza. "Spill the beans, already."
Spike considered the merits of pretending like he didn't know what "spill the beans" meant, but figured that Xander wouldn't fall for it. ((Never did settle on a convincin' lie. Shit. Well, when sneak attacks aren't likely to work, it's always best to come out with both guns blazin', so to speak.))
Taking a deep unneeded breath, Spike looked Xander squarely in the eyes. "I'm tryin' to get the chip taken out. Or at least deactivated, " he admitted.
Xander looked surprised. "That's it? That's the big secret? You're trying to get the chip out? Tell me something I didn't already know." He grabbed another piece of pizza as he spoke.
Spike busied himself with eating to hide his confusion. "All you've got to say is 'That's it?' You sure those vamps didn't catch up to you and have themselves a little snack? You feelin' light-headed?" Spike made a show of trying to look at Xander's neck.
Xander shrugged and continued eating. "What do you want, Spike? You want me to get all worked up again? Want me to be angry and afraid? Sorry, buddy - ain't gonna happen. It's not like your plans ever work. Can't say I'm worried much."
Spike opened his mouth to argue. Thoughts of Adam, the attack on the high school, the Gem of Amarra, getting Dru back...all these played through his mind, and he growled. "This one will, wait and see, boy."
"So what time is this meeting with the demon with the un-pronounceable name?" Xander asked.
"Doesn't matter to you - you're not invited," Spike said. He picked up a piece of pizza crust, dunked it in his coffee cup, and took a bite.
"That doesn't get any less disgusting no matter how many times I see you do it," Xander commented, grimacing.
"Ta, pet - kinda the point, innit?" Spike asked, dunking yet again.
"No, actually - I think the point is to distract me so I don't notice that you never answered my question. Not gonna work. So, what time are we meeting this guy?" Xander wished he'd left the TV on, so he had something to look at besides Spike eating. Xander felt slightly nauseated, and pushed his plate away. He wasn't very hungry all of a sudden.
Spike grinned mentally at Xander's paling expression, but kept his face stern. "Like hell you're going with me."
"I go or I call Buffy. Your choice." Xander stared at Spike in a way that he hoped let Spike know he wasn't kidding. Xander wasn't sure if he'd call Buffy or not, but he was hoping Spike wasn't willing to take the chance.
Spike cocked an eyebrow at Xander and contemplated the pros and cons of the deal Xander was offering. He wondered why Xander would even consider not telling his precious Buffy that Spike was up to something, and filed that thought away for later pondering. There was something going on here, he was certain of that much, but he wasn't inclined to try and puzzle it out right now. Spike never enjoyed introspection. Waste of time, in his opinion. Besides, the world already had one introspective vampire - it didn't need another one.
"Fine, you can go. But you do what I say and keep your bleedin' trap shut, got it?"
Xander leapt off the couch, pumped his fist in the air and shouted a triumphant, "Yes!" - but only in his head, where Spike couldn't see him do it. Outwardly, he just nodded. "Cool. What time do we leave? And where are we going?"
"After patrol's ended, and you leave me to worry 'bout where it is." As he said this, Spike picked up his now-empty mug and walked to the kitchen. He washed it and put it in the dish drainer, and waited for Xander to protest.
But Xander simply began clearing the remains of their dinner off the coffee table. He threw the trash away and put the leftover pizza in the refrigerator. "All right. But if you get me killed, I'll haunt you for eternity, I swear."
Spike looked at Xander wonderingly, but decided not to look a gift horse in the mouth, as it were. "Idiot. If I get you killed, I'm dust before the sun sets the next day. You're safe as houses," he said as he went to his bedroom, unbuttoning his shirt as he walked.
"Aw, how sweet. You really do care," Xander said teasingly. He walked into his room, and stood behind the door. Peering around it, he said in the same too-sweet tone of voice, "Sweet dreams, my dark knight. Don't let the bedbugs bite." Xander blew a kiss at Spike and barely managed to get the door closed just as one of Spike's boots slammed into it. "Hey! No making holes in the walls!" Xander yelled, trying not to laugh.
Spike's reply was unintelligible, but Xander was pretty sure he didn't want to hear it anyway. Laughing quietly to himself, he got ready for bed.