Long Time Gone

By Yindagger

Chapter Twenty Five

Xander sipped from his mug of coffee and followed the steady stream of thumps emanating from the gym. Turning the corner, he leaned against the doorframe to watch Buffy pound the heavy bag. She was wearing a pair of bike shorts and a sports bra, both faded pink. Her hair was swept back in a ponytail and she was sweating freely as she rhythmically rained blows onto the bag with both her fists and her feet. He laughed at himself just a little when he realized he was paying more attention to her fighting form than to her figure. Great, he thought, most of my life all I wanted to do was ogle Buffy – and now I’d rather think about a different blonde. He smiled at the memory of slipping out of Spike’s arms earlier, and the soft sounds the vampire had made as he'd wrapped his arms around Xander’s abandoned pillow and drifted back to sleep.

Buffy caught sight of Xander and danced over to the door, peeling tape from her knuckles. She pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Hey, Xan. You’re up early,” she observed, tilting his mug to steal a sip of his coffee. He smiled down at her. “Yeah, those damn vampires want to keep us up all night, but I thought I’d go up to the roof and work out in the sun. Wanna come?” She nodded and replied, “Yeah! I could use some stretching work – can you show me some of the warm-ups you and your friends were doing?” He agreed, and they headed for the roof. Xander marveled a little that here was the Slayer, asking him, the Zeppo, for fitness advice. The mind boggled.

They reached the roof and walked to an open, flat area that had been planted with grass. They kicked off their shoes. Xander led Buffy through some simple exercises to get warm, and then started challenging her with some more advanced moves. “Try this one,” he said, as he seated himself on the ground with his legs straight out in front of him. He pressed his fisted hands to the ground next to his hips and raised his entire body, still in the same position, to balance on his fists. Corded muscles stood out on his arms as he held the position and took and released seven deep breaths. He lowered his body in a controlled motion, and then turned to Buffy. He grinned at the stunned expression on her face. “Your turn,” he taunted.

She seated herself beside him and tried to mimic the move. She couldn’t seem to get both her heels and her butt off the ground at the same time, and teetered back and forth. Xander showed her how to lock the position before rising, and where to find the balance point. Within minutes, she had it. They both smiled as she executed it perfectly. “You’re a good teacher, Xan,” she said, back on the ground. “You explain things clearly and you don’t get frustrated, unlike some vampires and Watchers I could name.” He smiled. “I wish all my students were as easy to teach as you – at least you can follow directions.”

“Show me another one,” she pleaded, “this is fun.” He thought for a moment, and then his eyes lit up. “I bet you can do this.” He knelt and placed his elbows on the ground, forming a triangle between them and his cupped hands. He placed his head down in front of his hands and rose in a headstand. Once the headstand was stable, he tilted his hips forward and arched his back so that his entire body formed a taut crescent shape. He shifted his hands apart and braced his palms on the ground. Once he was steady, he lifted his head and balanced on his forearms. He bent his knees to bring the bottoms of his feet nearly into contact with the back of his head. He turned his head and grinned at Buffy. “It’s called the Scorpion,” he panted. She goggled at him while he slowly lowered himself back to the ground.

They worked on the posture until Buffy got the hang of it, stopping several times to laugh hysterically when she overcorrected and fell on her ass. Once she had the move down, they sat side by side on the grass to take a rest. Xander took a deep breath and turned to her.

Before he could speak, she touched a finger to his lips and said, “Don’t, Xander.” He looked at her quizzically and she removed the finger. “Don’t apologize to me,” she said, smiling. “I don’t need it. And, if you don’t apologize to me, I don’t have to apologize to you.” He grabbed her hand and held it. “Buff,” he whispered, “I was a shitty friend.” She clasped his hand back and looked him in the eye. “So?” she asked, “who wasn’t? It was the end of the freaking *world*, Xander – none of us got through it in good shape. I was a shitty friend to you for a long time before you left. I couldn’t see it at the time. All I saw was my own pain, not the pain I was inflicting. God, I was full of myself.” Xander smiled at her. “Remember the speeches?” he asked in a small voice. “Don’t remind me,” she groaned. “I’m just lucky nobody staked me out of self-preservation.”

“You should know by now that I’m a pretty simple person,” she told him. “I need things to be cut and dried. You always *were* my friend, and you always *will* be. That’s enough for me. You needed to be away for a while; you needed to not be here. I can understand that. You sacrificed so much to fight at my side – I could never begrudge you the chance at a normal life.” Xander looked into her open, happy face and was hardly able to believe that this was the same person he’d left behind so many years ago. She’d been through so much, yet she could still smile and forgive and love. The two old friends laughed together for a moment. “So, we’re OK? Just like that?” Xander asked. She nodded, “Just like that. You know me, Xan – save the world, love my friends, sleep with a vampire.” Xander pulled the petite blonde into his arms and hugged her tightly. “I love you, Buffy. I always have,” he whispered into her hair. “I know, Xan – me, too,” she replied against his chest. After a moment, she started struggling. As soon as he released her, she said, “OK, enough with the encounter group – show me more cool tricks!” He happily obliged, and pretended not to notice as she wiped a tear from her face. It was only fair, since she pretended not to notice when he did the same.

“This is cozy,” Spike drawled from the doorway of the small atrium that looked out over the roof of the hotel. Inside the specially treated glass room, Angel sat in a chair next to a large, padded chaise lounge and watched Buffy and Xander contort themselves into pretzels in the sunshine. “What do you call it?” the younger vampire asked, “Stalker Hut?” Angel spared his grand-childe a glance and ignored the question. “It’s only 11:00 - what are you doing up?” he queried. Spike looked at the floor, then walked into the room and seated himself on the lounge at Angel’s side. Angel looked at the petulant expression on his face and barked a short laugh. “You, too, huh?” he asked ruefully. “I sometimes can’t sleep after Buffy gets up either,” he admitted. “Christ,” Spike groaned, “we’re a matched set of poofs, aren’t we?” Angel shook his head. “That we are, my William, that we are.”

“Looks like the Slayer’s doing the old forgive and forget,” Spike observed, seeing the two old friends embrace. Angel smiled. “Buffy can be very forgiving. It’s a damn good thing, too.” They looked out the windows in silence for long moments.

“I love her,” Angel said quietly, not looking at Spike. “I mean, I’ve always loved her, since she was sixteen; but now, it’s different. It’s like she’s a part of me.” Spike regarded his grand-sire seriously. “She *is* a part of you, Angel. You make her complete. Oddly enough, you’re what makes her more human.” The younger vampire snorted. “I used to wonder how you could love a human more than your own childer; it used to eat me up inside.” Angel’s dark eyes settled on his face. “Oh, Will – how could you think such a thing? I didn’t always like you, but I’ve never stopped loving you.” Spike’s eyes opened wide in shock, and Angel couldn’t hold back a soft laugh. “You didn’t know, did you?” When the blond head shook at him, he sighed. “Childe, I always loved you. I loved your humanity.” He laughed bitterly. “I loved it as much as Angelus hated it. He – I tried so hard to tear it out of you, but it always stayed. That’s why you’re so different from most vampires - your core of humanity was never destroyed, no matter how hard I tried. It made you unique.”

Spike simply stared at his grand-sire, unable to form coherent thoughts. Angel moved from his chair to sit beside the smaller man. He took a slim, pale hand into his own larger one. He looked into Spike’s ice blue eyes as he stroked the cool hand. “Maybe I haven’t been clear in the past, Will, so I’m just going to tell you outright. You can call me a poof and a ponce all you want later. When Drusilla turned you, I was furious. She had no right to sire anyone, but she took what she wanted and didn’t care who got hurt. If I hadn’t stepped in and taken you away from her, you would have died like so many of her childer did. I wanted you, and I took you for my own.” Angel paused.

“I’m not sorry I did it, Will. I’m sorry for so many things that I did in the past, but I will never be sorry about that. We were magnificent demons, you and I.” Angel’s voice was husky, and he saw Spike’s eyes flashing yellow and knew his were doing the same. He smiled gently and squeezed the hand he held. “We can be good men, Will. We have good hearts; they may not beat, but they can love. We have good souls.”

Spike kept his eyes lowered. He was truly stunned. He had always thought that Angel saw him as an abomination; a mistake that Dru had made in a flight of fancy. Knowing that his grand-sire, the only true sire he’d ever known, loved him was almost more than he could bear. It occurred to him that he’d spent the past nine years coming to terms with having a soul, while guarding that same soul from the risks of loving and being loved. Sure, he loved Dawn and her family, and Willow and Cordelia, but not the way he loved his sire, and not the way he desperately wanted to love Xander. Without looking up, he made the one gesture that he knew would speak volumes to Angel. Turning his head to the side, he bared his neck and whispered, “Sire.”

Angel’s mouth dropped open in shock. He had never imagined that he would see Spike make this submissive offer to him ever again. They had not renewed their blood bond in over a hundred years. He placed his hands on Spike’s shoulders, and leaned forward to place a soft kiss on the side of his favored childe’s neck, then sat back. When Spike’s eyes rose to meet his, he smiled. “No, Spike,” he said. “After all this time, you and I are met as equals.” At the ritual words they shared a long look, and the younger vampire shifted over to make room on the chaise. Angel settled into the space, pressing the entire length of his body against Spike’s side. He threw an arm around Spike’s shoulders and drew the blond head down against his chest, and began stroking his silky hair. Silently, they watched Buffy and Xander.

Chapter Twenty Six

“Oh, shit!” Angel exclaimed as the two vampires and two humans walked into the kitchen. Cordelia was sprawled on the floor, her head resting in Willow’s lap as her body thrashed from side to side. Dawn sat on the floor next to her with a pen and a notepad, writing down the words that Cordelia gritted out painfully. Buffy pushed past the men and went to the cabinet, grabbing a prescription bottle and a glass. “Vision,” she said to Xander as she filled the glass with water. Cordelia went limp in Willow’s embrace, then opened her eyes and grimaced. “Ow,” she said succinctly, taking the proffered painkillers and water from Buffy. “You’d think the Powers would be a little nicer to me and make that not hurt so badly,” she complained.

Dawn helped her up and settled her at the table, where she dropped her head into her hands. “What did you see?” Angel asked her gently. She grimaced again. “The usual, death and destruction, blah, blah, blah,” she joked. She looked up at Dawn. “Drusilla is going to attack the girls, the Slayerettes, in Sunnydale. I think it’s tonight. I saw her attacking your old house with three or four other vampires.” Dawn got up and rushed to the phone to call the house and warn the girls. Once she returned to the table, she looked around the group. “Well,” she said, “I guess this is what we’ve been waiting for.”

“Yeah,” Cordelia said, “I get that, but why do the Powers care? They usually don’t give a crap unless they’re involved in some way.” Angel answered her, “There’s really no way to know, but they are protective of future prophecies. It could be that there’s someone at the house who is needed later, and that person will get killed if Dru isn’t stopped.” Buffy broke in, “Doesn’t really matter anyway – we’ve got to get there. Dawn, how soon can you and Jase and Sara be ready to go?” Dawn answered, “Soon,” and dashed away to get ready. Buffy turned to Xander. “We have a van that’s sun proofed, so the rest of us can take that.” He nodded, and she turned to Willow. “Wills, we need you with us; are you up to doing a little mojo at the house? Just a few wards and bolstering the de-invite spells?” The redhead nodded.

Angel looked at his Seer, whose head was resting on her arms. “Cordelia won’t be in any shape to travel until tomorrow. Will you be OK here?” he asked. Xander spoke up, “I think I can find you some company for tonight, if you’re up to it, Cordy. I think maybe Brooks could be persuaded to come hang for a while.” Cordelia smiled wanly at his light tone and nodded. With their assignments decided the group dispersed. Angel swept Cordelia up in his arms to take her to bed, followed by Buffy, who carried the water glass and prescription bottle.

Xander remained seated at the table. Spike walked behind him and dropped his hands onto the human’s shoulders. “This is it, isn’t it?” Xander said. “Yes, luv, this is it. You ready?” the vampire’s voice was soft. Xander leaned back, and Spike wrapped his arms around his lover, bringing his head down to nuzzle against the deliciously warm neck. After a moment, Xander’s arms came up to wrap around Spike’s neck. “I’m ready,” Xander said. “I’m as ready as I’ll ever be.”

Willow opted to join Dawn and her family in the SUV, while Spike, Xander, Angel and Buffy piled into the plain van that had no windows except those in front. The back of the van was curtained off from the front, rendering it completely lightproof. Buffy settled into the driver’s seat, and gave Xander a dirty look when he grinned and looked at her questioningly. “Yes,” she groaned, “I finally learned to drive well enough for Angel.” At the vampire’s snort from the back she added, “OK, OK – he still won’t let me drive his convertible.” She rolled her eyes.

Xander climbed into the back and settled himself next to Spike on one of the two long seats. Angel sat sideways across the other. Spike and Xander exchanged a look as Buffy pulled the van out of the parking garage with a squeal of tires. “We may get killed,” Xander whispered, “but at least we don’t have to sing.”

Shortly after they reached the highway, Spike shifted around in his seat so that he could lean back against Xander, who obligingly wrapped his arms around the vampire’s chest, holding him close. He snuggled his nose into Spike’s neck and inhaled the scent of smoke and rain. Within minutes, both men were asleep. Angel sighed as he looked at them. He rarely got to see his childe so relaxed. In sleep, Spike’s features dropped the ever-present tension – he was beautiful. His blond hair gleamed against Xander’s dark sweater, and a few tendrils of the human’s sable hair had fallen forward against his pale neck. Xander’s face smoothed out in repose, and Angel took the opportunity to really look at the young man. The years had changed him, bringing new lines and furrows to his handsome face, yet he still had the same cupid’s bow mouth that Angel had noticed the first time he’d seen the boy. He saw a notepad on the floor of the van and stooped to retrieve it. It had a pencil secured in the metal coil at its top, and he eased it free and began to sketch the study in contrasts before him.

The only sounds in the van were Xander’s breathing, Buffy singing along quietly to the radio and the gentle scratch of pencil on paper.

Chapter Twenty Seven

A covered carport had been added to the Summers’ house on Revello Drive years before. Buffy pulled the van under its shelter and released her seatbelt. She parted the curtain behind her and smiled. The two vampires and Xander were all asleep. Xander was leaning against the armrest of the seat with Spike clutched to his chest. Angel was sprawled across the back seat. His body was leaned forward; his head was pillowed on his arm, which rested on the seat in front of him. His other arm was draped over the seat, and his hand rested atop one of Xander’s, which in turn rested atop one of Spike’s.

“Angel,” she whispered, “Come on, honey, wake up.” Buffy knew that there would be a row if Spike woke and saw Angel touching Xander; she was well aware of the younger vampire’s jealous nature. Angel’s chocolate eyes opened, and he smiled at his mate. She gestured at his hand, and he nodded and pulled it back. Buffy leaned further into the back and tapped Xander on the knee. “Wake up, everybody, we’re here,” she announced in a louder voice. She levered herself out of the front seat and came around to open the sliding door. The three men yawned and stretched.

As they piled out of the van, Willow and Dawn came out the back door. Buffy hugged her sister, and then her best friend. “Mojo all … mojo-ed?” she asked. The witch nodded. “We’re warded out the wazoo, and all vamps except for our two are really, really uninvited.” Buffy nodded. Angel walked around the side of the van and enfolded Buffy in his arms. She looked a little surprised, but hugged him back tightly. “Good morning, sleepyhead,” she giggled. He kissed her temple, then released her and walked into the house. Buffy and Willow exchanged a look. Buffy shook her head in bemusement. “I don’t know what that’s all about,” she said, “but I am *not* complaining.” Willow shrugged. The redhead looked around the far side of the van for Spike and Xander, and then pulled back, blushing. She grabbed one of Dawn’s and one of Buffy’s arms and pulled them forward. All three girls took in the sight of their childhood friend being thoroughly kissed by William the Bloody. Willow cleared her throat and the two men separated reluctantly.

Inside, the house was controlled chaos. Dawn explained to Xander that she and Jase owned a house nearby and that the family’s old house was more of a command center. None of the potentials actually lived there, but someone was on duty at all times. Most of the potentials had settled down in Sunnydale. Several attended college, a few of them even had burgeoning families. Dawn took Xander around and introduced him to those he didn’t know, while Angel and Spike went to the kitchen for blood. Everyone gathered in the old dining room for a briefing. Dawn took the floor and explained what they knew, which was not much. A tall, dark-haired girl reported on the whereabouts of all of the potentials, and it was decided that they should simply wait for nightfall and for Dru to make her move. The meeting dispersed.

Xander wandered into the den and settled on one end of the couch. Spike stripped off his duster and tossed it over a chair. He walked back to Xander, pushed his knees apart and settled on the floor between his lover’s feet, leaning back and resting his chin on Xander’s leg. Xander absently stroked the soft hair at the nape of the vampire’s neck. Glancing over to a pile of schoolbooks on the end table, he laughed softly. He reached out to snag one and turned it over in his hands. “I used this book when I was in school,” he laughed. “There’s a poem in here that I loved …” His voice trailed off as he flipped through the pages. After a few fruitless minutes, he consulted the book’s table of contents and found what he was looking for. “You’ll like this one, Will,” he told Spike. “It’s my favorite, but Shari found it offensive – she took it too literally.” He cleared his throat and began to read.

“Nothing is plumb, level or square:
the studs are bowed, the joists
are shaky by nature, no piece fits
any other piece without a gap
or pinch, and bent nails
dance all over the surfacing
like maggots. By Christ
I am no carpenter. I built
the roof for myself, the walls
for myself, the floors
for myself, and got
hung up in it myself. I
danced with a purple thumb
at this house-warming, drunk
with my prime whiskey: rage.
Oh I spat rage's nails
into the frame-up of my work:
it held. It settled plumb,
level, solid, square and true
for that great moment. Then
it screamed and went on through,
skewing as wrong the other way.
God damned it. This is hell,
but I planned it, I sawed it,
I nailed it, and I
will live in it until it kills me.
I can nail my left palm
to the left-hand cross-piece but
I can't do everything myself
I need a hand to nail the right,
a help, a love, a you, a wife.”

Spike laughed. “The missus thought you were insulting her, eh?” Xander gave him a rueful look. “Yeah – too literal. She thought I was bullshitting her when I gave her my interpretation of it.” Spike held out his hand and Xander passed the book to him. Spike stood and walked over to the discarded duster, digging his glasses out of one of the pockets and putting them on. Back on the floor, he read the poem slowly, twice. “OK, poetry boy, give me your interpretation,” he challenged. Xander smiled. “It’s about accepting your life for what it is – living in the house that you built, no matter how shoddy the construction. It turns out that the poet wrote it while he was in some sort of mid-life crisis. The part I like, though, is when the house settles for one perfect moment ‘plumb, level, solid, square and true for that great moment’. Of course, it all goes straight to Hell in the next second, but that’s not the point. What?” Spike was staring at him with his mouth hanging open.

“Sorry, pet, I didn’t quite expect the literary criticism. You surprised me.” Spike raised an eyebrow when Xander’s grin widened. “I like surprising you,” he said. “Good thing,” Spike observed, “because you’ve done nothing but since you showed up.” He turned back to the book in his hands, settling himself back against the warm human. He flipped pages, stopping now and then to read a few lines, and then moving on. “Here we are,” he said, finding something he liked.

“The grave's a fine and private place,
But none, I think, do there embrace.
Now therefore, while the youthful hue
Sits on thy skin like morning dew,
And while thy willing soul transpires
At every pore with instant fires,
Now let us sport us while we may,
And now, like amorous birds of prey,
Rather at once our time devour
Than languish in his slow-chapped power.
Let us roll all our strength and all
Our sweetness up into one ball,
And tear our pleasures with rough strife
Thorough the iron gates of life:
Thus, though we cannot make our sun
Stand still, yet we will make him run.”

It was Xander’s turn to look dumbstruck. Spike’s voice rolled over the words, infusing them with heat as they dripped from his lips. Blue eyes met brown, and a wicked smile curved the vampire’s lips. Xander shook his head. “You could read the phone book and make it sound sexy, couldn’t you, Will?” he asked. Spike laid the book on the floor and rose to kneel between Xander’s legs, resting his forearms on his lover’s thighs. He leaned in and brushed their lips together lightly. They shared a tender kiss, and then Xander grasped Spike’s hands to pull him onto the couch. He pushed him to the opposite end, and then leaned down to retrieve the textbook. Handing the book to Spike, Xander reclined back and plopped his feet into the vampire’s lap. “Read to me,” he demanded imperiously. Laughing, Spike opened the book and began reading.

Xander heard a small noise from the door and looked up to see Willow standing there. She was giving them the dreaded puppy-eyed look that Xander could not resist. He prodded Spike’s thigh and looked at him questioningly. Not faltering in his reading, the vampire nodded. Willow was instantly by Xander’s side, kicking off her shoes and snuggling into the crook of her best friend’s arm. She turned on her side and draped an arm over his chest. He pulled her close and rubbed circles on her back. Eyes closed, they both listened to Spike, who read at a measured pace, his accent returning to the clean diction and precise pronunciation of his Victorian origins. He finished the poem he was reading and paused. Willow spoke, not raising her head from Xander’s chest. “Read something epic, Spike. I could listen to you all day,” she said dreamily. Xander grunted his agreement.

“As you wish, my lady,” was Spike’s gallant reply. After flipping through the book for a moment he began to read again. Xander drifted, eyes closed, hearing and feeling the deep rumble of Spike’s voice as he read the opening stanzas of Book 1 of Paradise Lost. He could tell that his lover was really enjoying reading to them, and marveled once again in the changes in Spike. The Big Bad of the old days may have liked poetry, but he would never have agreed to read it to any of the Scoobies, and certainly not while wearing reading glasses. Xander resolutely pushed thoughts of the upcoming evening out of his head and concentrated on Spike’s voice.

Xander felt Spike shift, and noticed that Angel had joined them. The large vampire had settled himself on the floor at Spike’s feet, leaning back against the sofa. Xander found that he was more surprised by Angel taking such a submissive place to sit, than by his seeking out company. Over the few days in L.A. Xander had seen the changes in Angel, too. Where before, isolation and outright broodiness had kept Angel apart, he had become much more open. The guy still wasn’t outgoing or anything, but Xander had to admit that he didn’t mind having him around. Just as Angel settled, Buffy walked past the door of the den. She did a classic double take, and stood for a moment with her mouth hanging open. At a gesture from her mate, she walked into the room and folded herself into his arms, resting her head on his chest and closing her eyes. Spike and Xander exchanged a soft smile and the vampire continued to read

Continue

NOTE: Xander’s poem is “Love Song: I and Thou” by Alan Dugan; Spike’s is the latter half of “To His Coy Mistress” by Andrew Marvell.