crazydiamondsue (![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png)
crazydiamondsue) wrote2004-09-16 10:48 pm
crazydiamondsue) wrote2004-09-16 10:48 pm
Entry tags:
Fic: Sunday Morning Coming Down, Part 9
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Beta:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
adis723
Notes: The flowers are a shout-out totabaqui's story Changes
Previous Parts
PART NINE
But I took the sweet life, I never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I've spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that costs too much to be free
Hey lady...
I've been to paradise,
But I've never been to me…
Xander’s hand shot out, cutting the alarm off. He fell back against the pillow, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. What the hell radio station was that thing set on?
He rolled over, checking to see if the embarrassing bit of sugary pop had awoken his bed partner. Pale hair faded into a white pillowcase. A paler cheek was burrowed into the pillow, the sheets pulled up to small, strangely delicate ears like a dramatically drawn cape. There be vampires here.
Well, one, anyway, and that was scary enough. Xander lay back, blinking around the darker than normal room, trying to remember what time he had set the alarm to go off. His eyes went to the sleeping bag he had haphazardly nailed over the window last night, after informing Spike that he could sleep on the sunny side of the bed and receiving a sour look in response.
Xander reached a careful hand out, barely touching the edge of the sheet by the back of Spike’s neck, and then jerked back when Spike suddenly rolled over onto his stomach, still facing away from him, and abruptly stilled. Xander held his breath, staring at the pale back that was now bared to him until he was sure that Spike was still sleeping. Or hibernating or regenerating or whatever vampires did.
Xander’s eyes followed the slight groove of Spike’s spine to that dip his back made right above where the curve of his ass mounded up the sheets. He felt his breath hitch slightly and clenched his fingers into the sheets, wadding the cloth into his fists and then stopping when he realized he was baring even more Spike nakedness.
He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to look at Spike and see ‘pretty’ and ‘strong’ and ‘dangerously hot.’ He dropped his eyes from the sleek lines of Spike’s back, staring blindly at the white sheets as if their blankness would blanket these thoughts. What was in this insane attraction to Spike? Was it just the inherent “Come to me, my pretty” danger in Spike that had nothing to do with him being a guy or no longer of the living? Or was it something more…and we’re not going there.
Xander pulled his hands away from that tempting flesh and rolled over with a sigh to check the alarm clock. 7:10, which meant he needed to get up, shower and head over to Dawn’s to get the mower, to the woods to mow, back to Dawn’s to get the girls, back to the woods for the Sunday morning routine, drop the girls off and then back home to his…vampire.
He eased out from beneath the sheet and into the shortest shower he’d had in days. Mostly dry, he almost silently opened his closet and drawers to find a t-shirt and shorts to mow in and khakis and a pullover to wear back to the woods. He was tying his tennis shoes when he heard the sheets rustle behind him.
“You don’t have to sneak out, pet, it’s your flat.”
Xander turned around, seeing Spike rubbing his hand sleepily over his wavy, ungelled hair and refusing to find that cute. “Gotta go mow,” he mumbled.
“Ah,” Spike answered. “Guess I kind of threw your routine off last night, eh?”
Xander decided not to enumerate the ways his routine had been thrown off last night and nodded toward the darkened window instead. “You gonna be okay here for a while?”
“Suppose so,” Spike answered, snuggling back down into the sheets with a grin. “Find and mock your porn, answer the phone with ‘Harris’ bitch,’ put your albums in all the wrong cases…no shortage of evil I can get up to on my own.”
“Don’t answer my phone,” Xander said with a stern finger point, and then grabbed his keys and left.
Xander put the mower back into the shed behind the house and used the hose to rinse most of the grass off of his legs. He ducked behind the shed, shucking his shorts and t-shirt and scrambling into khakis and pullover before the neighbors caught the early morning naked Xander show.
Ah, sweet routine. Comforting creatures of habit. Peaceful, unthinky normalcy. Okay, time to get the witches and the teen of vague mystical energy to go visit the secret, hidden grave of a vampire slayer. Bring on the normal.
He walked around to the front of the house and found Willow, Tara and Dawn waiting for him at the open door. It was always so strange to see Dawn in a dress. Well, a dress that wasn’t so short that it had him casting his eyes around for somewhere to look than at those long legs that got less skinny and more eep, bad thoughts, with every passing day. Willow and Tara in dresses was too normal to be naughty-making, but these Sunday morning ones were always less Renaissance Fair and more Parent-Teacher night.
They drove to the woods like usual, the only sounds the radio turned up so that they could ignore that they weren’t talking and the crackling of the cellophane around Dawn’s flowers.
Xander pulled off the road and drove in as far as he could without getting stuck. They got out and started into the woods in the unspoken order: Willow in the lead, Tara clinging to her hand, Dawn following behind and Xander bringing up the rear. He tried to concentrate on the shiny bounce of Dawn’s hair rather than the memory Giles’ sweater-clad back blocking the view of it and the feel of Anya’s fingers twining with his.
Dawn turned and gave him the same half-smile she always gave when she smelled the fresh cut grass and saw the grave cleared of the – don’t think dead – old flowers. Dawn knelt and arranged the new ones as Tara started chanting softly and Willow stood with her eyes closed, her face lifted to the sky and her hands out, the palms turned up. Xander wasn’t sure if that was a witch thing or a Jewish thing, but he’d always felt it would be dumb to ask.
Besides, other than, “When are you coming to get the mower?” and “Need to pick up the flowers,” they never talked about what they did here.
Xander’s job was done once the mowing was finished, so he did what he always did, watched the others, casting the occasional glance around to make sure that no one disturbed them. Before, he had stood and muttered, “I don’t know, I don’t know,” repeatedly to Anya’s whispered questions of, “What’s Tara saying? Why is Willow doing that? Why doesn’t Giles look at any of us? How long do we have to keep coming here every week?”
The truth was, none of them really knew what to do once they got here. Tara chanted for a while, and Willow did that looking up thing and Dawn spread the flowers out and then gathered them together and then spread them out again. And then they all waited for Giles to say, “I suppose we should be heading back, then.”
In a way, it wasn’t much different from the first time they’d come here, except there had been more things to do that time. More things to do, important things, non-thinking things. And then Giles had said something in Latin, Xander was almost certain, and Tara and Willow and even Spike had nodded along with the words. Xander had just stood and held Dawn’s hand, feeling younger than she was and wishing that she were holding his hand, and not the other way around. It had been dark that time and easier to ignore the details, like the name engraved on the stone and the way the ground mounded up in front of it.
Xander looked down at Dawn, watching the flowers sift through her fingers. Stargazer Lilies, Tara had said they were. They were kind of bright and loud and big, but in some way the name Stargazer had fit Buffy. Not that she had been much of a dreamer, but somehow the way they’d all looked to her…
He realized that he was staring past Dawn now, staring at the name. Buffy Anne Summers. If he just read it like that, all together, it didn’t seem like the same person. Had he even known her middle name was Anne? He stared at it harder. Buffy Anne Summers. Buffy. Buffy, I….
Buffy, I fucked Spike. Xander’s eyes opened wide and bit down on his lip, hard. He hadn’t thought that. It’d be like yelling, “fuck” or “goddamnit” in a church. Buffy, I left Anya, or she left me, and I fucked Spike, or almost, and now I think I might be…Xander’s teeth snapped down on the tip of his tongue, tasting blood. He swallowed hard. He was not telling his best friend’s spirit, or whatever, that he was banging, or hoping to bang, her undead stalker.
Or maybe Buffy was up in Slayer heaven and she and all the other Slayer-angels were sitting on clouds and looking down at him, watching him suck off a vampire on his kitchen floor. Xander closed his eyes tightly, no, no, heaven was perfect and Buffy’s idea of perfect was not watching Xander try to deep throat her lusty nemesis.
He opened his eyes again to see Tara looking at him with a soft, understanding smile on her lips. Oh, God, she thinks I’m trying not to cry. Yeah, that’s it, I’m just letting this place, and this day and this act, and not last night, get to me. I’m thinking of Buffy. And Slayer heaven. Which…huh, wonder if it’s like Jesus heaven with big, white fluffy angels or like Willow’s heaven, or does Willow even have a heaven, or maybe it’s just like another world, like when that portal opened Buffy just went somewhere else, but no, her body stayed here so does that mean she… He realized that his eyes were opened wide again and that he was chewing his lip and Willow and Tara were both staring at him.
“I suppose we should be heading back, then,” he heard himself say.
Tara took Dawn by the hand and helped her up and they started walking back towards the car. Xander turned to follow them and felt Willow’s hand slide into the crook of his arm.
“Hang on a second,” she said softly. She watched until Tara and Dawn had moved away from them and then turned to look at him, “We need to talk tonight,” she said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “About what were going to do now. How we’re going to handle things.”
Xander nodded, looking at the ground and frowning when he noticed a spot were the grass was taller than the rest.
“Xander,” Willow said, tugging at his arm until he looked up at her, “Are you with us? Are you going to be able to do what needs to be done?”
He looked back at her, wanting to say, Nope, and stroll out of this place without another thought, but he felt himself nodding. “Yeah, Will, whatever you need.”
“Okay,” she said, sighing and then smiling a little. “Can you meet Tara and me at the Bronze tonight? Around eight?”
Xander nodded again, moving slightly so that her hand dropped from his arm. “What about…should we ask Spike?”
Willow frowned at him. “I thought you said that we couldn’t count on Spike, that it would be better to just leave him out of this.”
Xander shrugged. “Yeah, but…I don’t know, Will. This is,” he looked around, avoiding Buffy’s headstone. “This is asking a lot of us, and really I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to do it alone.”
Willow crossed her arms. “I’m not worried about that. And for tonight, it’d be better if Spike weren’t there. Maybe later, when we have some idea of what we’re going to do. Anyway, I need someone to stay with Dawn. So, I figured, after we leave here, I’d go by the crypt and see if…”
“I’ll ask him,” Xander said quickly. Willow raised her brows and Xander cleared his throat and said, “I have stuff to do over by Restfield, anyway, so it won’t be a big deal to stop by.”
Willow shrugged, nodding. “Okay. You can have Spike duty.” She turned to start toward Tara and Dawn. “After all, he’s your patrol buddy and late night escort.” She looked back at him with an impish grin. “Come to think of it, he’s really been up your butt, lately.”
Xander groaned. Naturally, the one bit of Judaism he did remember was, “From your mouth to God’s ears.” He shook his head and followed after her.
Xander walked into his apartment and headed straight for the kitchen to put the bags down on the counter. He glanced into the living room and found Spike sitting at the center of the couch, away from the windows, and leafing through one of the research books Xander had been supposed to look…something up in a while back.
“’Bit okay?” Spike asked, not looking up.
Xander nodded slowly, unloading his purchases, and then remembered to answer aloud. “Yeah, I guess. She, um, she hasn’t cried the last couple of times and Tara says that shows that she’s learning to start dealing with it. Living with it,” he finished quietly.
Spike nodded and Xander turned to open the refrigerator and stumbled over the over-flowing garbage bag that blocked his way. He looked around, discovering that the pizza boxes, beer bottles and empty take-out sacks were gone, presumably stuffed into the bursting bag at his feet.
“Spike…you cleaned,” he said in shock, the quart of milk in his hands falling to land in a safe, non-exploding way on the bag of garbage.
Spike shrugged, flipping pages faster. “I had to find somewhere to sit, didn’t I? And Harris? It smelled,” he looked up and met Xander’s eyes before wetting his thumb and forefinger and turning another page, his attention going back to the book.
Xander picked up the milk and moved the garbage out of the way to finish unpacking his groceries. He snickered a little. “William the Bloody – house vamp,” he chuckled, looking around the room. “What – you couldn’t do the dishes, too?”
Spike slammed the book shut. “Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and deadly, his fingers clenching on the spine of the book. “Look, I picked up your garbage, yeah, fine. I didn’t answer the bloody phone – didn’t ring anyway, you were with anyone who might want to call you, ya stupid wanker. I didn’t touch your precious cds, the comics under your bed are still in their little plastic coats and I only smoked twice.” He shook his head, tossing the book aside. “I did find your porn, though, and I was right – sad lot, that.”
He looked up at Xander, his smirk fading. “So just…don’t. I got to sleep ‘til I wanted to get up, an’ I got to sit here, all non-flamey, so I held up my end of the bargain. I cleaned. Sod it. And then you come in here, dumping your snark on me, because we both know you don’t have the balls to say what you really want…”
“Here,” Xander interrupted. He held his hand out, the dark red bag gleaming in the low light. “I kept my part of the ‘bargain,’ too.”
Spike stood up staring at him, and then slowly made his way over to the kitchen, reaching to take the bag of blood from Xander’s hand. Xander handed it over, seeing Spike stare down at it like it was a fluttering virgin or a children’s choir – or whatever Spike’s vamp kink had been back in the day – and not like plastic full of cold, dead pig juice.
“I need you to do something for me,” Xander said, watching as Spike walked over to the cabinets and started searching for mugs. I’m going to lie to Spike, well, not lie, but not tell and, okay, a week ago, so not big on my list of things that make my gut clench, but now... “Not the Quark’s Bar mug,” he said, shoving Spike gently aside to replace the two-quart novelty cup and reach for something less Trek.
“But it’s the biggest one,” Spike argued. “Welsher.”
“Here,” Xander said, handing him a Batman mug. “Knock yourself out.”
Spike rolled his eyes and headed to the microwave. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked, vamping to rip the bag open with his teeth. “’Cause if it’s laundry, you’ll find it all piled up in the tub.”
“You know we have fancy newfangled machines for that now, right?” Xander paused. “Heh. New fangled,” he snorted and then looked up in horror. "Tell me you didn’t use the cheese grater as a washboard….”
“Barely held my dinner hauling ‘em into the bathroom,” Spike said, setting the timer on the microwave. “What you do with them now is your problem.”
“Now, here’s something I’ve always wondered about,” Xander said, leaning back against the refrigerator and crossing his arms, and then smirking a little as he watched Spike mirror his pose and lean back against the counter. “You don’t breathe, right?”
Spike nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.
“And yet you have a super-keen sense of smell – not unlike Daredevil, except you’re not blind – so explain to me how this coexistence of no breath yet bloodhound sniffing occurs?”
Spike shrugged. “Don’t have to breathe, ‘s all. But I can still draw in air to scent something out.”
“So you don’t just do it,” Xander said thoughtfully, “you have to make yourself do it. So you were making yourself huff my boxers?”
Spike’s lips fell open and his body language changed to righteous rebuttal just as the microwave pinged and saved him from answering. “What did you need me to do, Harris?” he said instead, lifting the mug to his lips and draining it and then starting the refilling and reheating process again.
“I…we need you to stay with Dawn tonight.”
Spike looked back at him, watching as Xander’s gaze fell from his. “All night?” he asked quietly.
Xander shrugged, flushing a little. “Whatever.”
“So…what’s up with you and the witches that I’m on Niblet watch?”
Xander turned away, busying himself with shaking the garbage bag and searching for a tie. “Just a Scooby meeting. Figuring out what the plan is now.”
“And…you don’t think I should be there for that?” Spike said, turning in irritation as the microwave dinged again.
“That’s not it, it’s just that someone needs to be with Dawn, and…”
“And it should be the person with the least to offer to the big summit,” Spike said, giving him a pointed look.
Xander dropped the garbage bag, walking out of the kitchen and slamming his way back to his bedroom. “Just be at Dawn’s after sunset,” he yelled back through the closed door and then kicked it hard for extra measure.
When Xander opened the door several hours later, he found the living room vamp free, a blood-stained Batman mug sitting in the center of the coffee table. CDs were scattered around the floor, and Xander didn’t even bother to look at the evil Spike had wreaked on his meager, post-Anya, music collection.
He picked up the phone and dialed. “Dawn? Is Spike there? Okay, tell Willow I’ll meet her in a few minutes. What? Oh, well, tell Spike I said right back atcha. What? Oh, nevermind.”
Making his way into the Bronze several pissed off minutes later, Xander saw Tara and Willow sitting at a small round table at the back. He walked over to them, smiling at their heads bent together, allowing himself a moment to ponder what sort of naughtiness they were whispering, and then hopped up onto to the stool closest to Willow.
“Oh, how the mighty Scoobies have fallen,” he said, looking at the two of them and forcing a grin. “I can remember when we could fill an entire booth at the Bronze.” He pointed across the room. “That booth over there. I think it has our names on it. I think they bronzed it.”
Willow and Tara smiled half-heartedly, and then Tara reached for her cup, burying her face in it.
“So, is there a plan?” Xander asked. “Have we figured out a way to do this without losing our ass? ‘Cause I’m dying to hear it, really.”
Willow elbowed him and then picked up her straw, toying with it. “Yeah, I think I’ve come up with an idea.”
“Well, that’s great,” Xander said, looking around for a waitress. Beer was needed now, and he was okay with that. “So what is it? Cast a protection spell on the entire Hellmouth? Turn the demons into Tribbles with a few carefully muttered and hard for me to remember words?” His eyes gleamed. “Use Spike as bait?”
“Um, no,” Willow said, looking to Tara and then reaching out to take her hand and Xander’s. She leaned forward, staring into Xander’s eyes with a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.” Her fingers tightened on his, painfully. “Xander,” she said, dropping her voice, “I think I know how to bring Buffy back.”
Lyrics from “Never Been to Me” by Charlene
Continued
Rating: NC-17
Beta:
adis723Notes: The flowers are a shout-out to
tabaqui's story ChangesPrevious Parts
PART NINE
But I took the sweet life, I never knew I'd be bitter from the sweet
I've spent my life exploring the subtle whoring that costs too much to be free
Hey lady...
I've been to paradise,
But I've never been to me…
Xander’s hand shot out, cutting the alarm off. He fell back against the pillow, rubbing a hand roughly over his face. What the hell radio station was that thing set on?
He rolled over, checking to see if the embarrassing bit of sugary pop had awoken his bed partner. Pale hair faded into a white pillowcase. A paler cheek was burrowed into the pillow, the sheets pulled up to small, strangely delicate ears like a dramatically drawn cape. There be vampires here.
Well, one, anyway, and that was scary enough. Xander lay back, blinking around the darker than normal room, trying to remember what time he had set the alarm to go off. His eyes went to the sleeping bag he had haphazardly nailed over the window last night, after informing Spike that he could sleep on the sunny side of the bed and receiving a sour look in response.
Xander reached a careful hand out, barely touching the edge of the sheet by the back of Spike’s neck, and then jerked back when Spike suddenly rolled over onto his stomach, still facing away from him, and abruptly stilled. Xander held his breath, staring at the pale back that was now bared to him until he was sure that Spike was still sleeping. Or hibernating or regenerating or whatever vampires did.
Xander’s eyes followed the slight groove of Spike’s spine to that dip his back made right above where the curve of his ass mounded up the sheets. He felt his breath hitch slightly and clenched his fingers into the sheets, wadding the cloth into his fists and then stopping when he realized he was baring even more Spike nakedness.
He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to look at Spike and see ‘pretty’ and ‘strong’ and ‘dangerously hot.’ He dropped his eyes from the sleek lines of Spike’s back, staring blindly at the white sheets as if their blankness would blanket these thoughts. What was in this insane attraction to Spike? Was it just the inherent “Come to me, my pretty” danger in Spike that had nothing to do with him being a guy or no longer of the living? Or was it something more…and we’re not going there.
Xander pulled his hands away from that tempting flesh and rolled over with a sigh to check the alarm clock. 7:10, which meant he needed to get up, shower and head over to Dawn’s to get the mower, to the woods to mow, back to Dawn’s to get the girls, back to the woods for the Sunday morning routine, drop the girls off and then back home to his…vampire.
He eased out from beneath the sheet and into the shortest shower he’d had in days. Mostly dry, he almost silently opened his closet and drawers to find a t-shirt and shorts to mow in and khakis and a pullover to wear back to the woods. He was tying his tennis shoes when he heard the sheets rustle behind him.
“You don’t have to sneak out, pet, it’s your flat.”
Xander turned around, seeing Spike rubbing his hand sleepily over his wavy, ungelled hair and refusing to find that cute. “Gotta go mow,” he mumbled.
“Ah,” Spike answered. “Guess I kind of threw your routine off last night, eh?”
Xander decided not to enumerate the ways his routine had been thrown off last night and nodded toward the darkened window instead. “You gonna be okay here for a while?”
“Suppose so,” Spike answered, snuggling back down into the sheets with a grin. “Find and mock your porn, answer the phone with ‘Harris’ bitch,’ put your albums in all the wrong cases…no shortage of evil I can get up to on my own.”
“Don’t answer my phone,” Xander said with a stern finger point, and then grabbed his keys and left.
Xander put the mower back into the shed behind the house and used the hose to rinse most of the grass off of his legs. He ducked behind the shed, shucking his shorts and t-shirt and scrambling into khakis and pullover before the neighbors caught the early morning naked Xander show.
Ah, sweet routine. Comforting creatures of habit. Peaceful, unthinky normalcy. Okay, time to get the witches and the teen of vague mystical energy to go visit the secret, hidden grave of a vampire slayer. Bring on the normal.
He walked around to the front of the house and found Willow, Tara and Dawn waiting for him at the open door. It was always so strange to see Dawn in a dress. Well, a dress that wasn’t so short that it had him casting his eyes around for somewhere to look than at those long legs that got less skinny and more eep, bad thoughts, with every passing day. Willow and Tara in dresses was too normal to be naughty-making, but these Sunday morning ones were always less Renaissance Fair and more Parent-Teacher night.
They drove to the woods like usual, the only sounds the radio turned up so that they could ignore that they weren’t talking and the crackling of the cellophane around Dawn’s flowers.
Xander pulled off the road and drove in as far as he could without getting stuck. They got out and started into the woods in the unspoken order: Willow in the lead, Tara clinging to her hand, Dawn following behind and Xander bringing up the rear. He tried to concentrate on the shiny bounce of Dawn’s hair rather than the memory Giles’ sweater-clad back blocking the view of it and the feel of Anya’s fingers twining with his.
Dawn turned and gave him the same half-smile she always gave when she smelled the fresh cut grass and saw the grave cleared of the – don’t think dead – old flowers. Dawn knelt and arranged the new ones as Tara started chanting softly and Willow stood with her eyes closed, her face lifted to the sky and her hands out, the palms turned up. Xander wasn’t sure if that was a witch thing or a Jewish thing, but he’d always felt it would be dumb to ask.
Besides, other than, “When are you coming to get the mower?” and “Need to pick up the flowers,” they never talked about what they did here.
Xander’s job was done once the mowing was finished, so he did what he always did, watched the others, casting the occasional glance around to make sure that no one disturbed them. Before, he had stood and muttered, “I don’t know, I don’t know,” repeatedly to Anya’s whispered questions of, “What’s Tara saying? Why is Willow doing that? Why doesn’t Giles look at any of us? How long do we have to keep coming here every week?”
The truth was, none of them really knew what to do once they got here. Tara chanted for a while, and Willow did that looking up thing and Dawn spread the flowers out and then gathered them together and then spread them out again. And then they all waited for Giles to say, “I suppose we should be heading back, then.”
In a way, it wasn’t much different from the first time they’d come here, except there had been more things to do that time. More things to do, important things, non-thinking things. And then Giles had said something in Latin, Xander was almost certain, and Tara and Willow and even Spike had nodded along with the words. Xander had just stood and held Dawn’s hand, feeling younger than she was and wishing that she were holding his hand, and not the other way around. It had been dark that time and easier to ignore the details, like the name engraved on the stone and the way the ground mounded up in front of it.
Xander looked down at Dawn, watching the flowers sift through her fingers. Stargazer Lilies, Tara had said they were. They were kind of bright and loud and big, but in some way the name Stargazer had fit Buffy. Not that she had been much of a dreamer, but somehow the way they’d all looked to her…
He realized that he was staring past Dawn now, staring at the name. Buffy Anne Summers. If he just read it like that, all together, it didn’t seem like the same person. Had he even known her middle name was Anne? He stared at it harder. Buffy Anne Summers. Buffy. Buffy, I….
Buffy, I fucked Spike. Xander’s eyes opened wide and bit down on his lip, hard. He hadn’t thought that. It’d be like yelling, “fuck” or “goddamnit” in a church. Buffy, I left Anya, or she left me, and I fucked Spike, or almost, and now I think I might be…Xander’s teeth snapped down on the tip of his tongue, tasting blood. He swallowed hard. He was not telling his best friend’s spirit, or whatever, that he was banging, or hoping to bang, her undead stalker.
Or maybe Buffy was up in Slayer heaven and she and all the other Slayer-angels were sitting on clouds and looking down at him, watching him suck off a vampire on his kitchen floor. Xander closed his eyes tightly, no, no, heaven was perfect and Buffy’s idea of perfect was not watching Xander try to deep throat her lusty nemesis.
He opened his eyes again to see Tara looking at him with a soft, understanding smile on her lips. Oh, God, she thinks I’m trying not to cry. Yeah, that’s it, I’m just letting this place, and this day and this act, and not last night, get to me. I’m thinking of Buffy. And Slayer heaven. Which…huh, wonder if it’s like Jesus heaven with big, white fluffy angels or like Willow’s heaven, or does Willow even have a heaven, or maybe it’s just like another world, like when that portal opened Buffy just went somewhere else, but no, her body stayed here so does that mean she… He realized that his eyes were opened wide again and that he was chewing his lip and Willow and Tara were both staring at him.
“I suppose we should be heading back, then,” he heard himself say.
Tara took Dawn by the hand and helped her up and they started walking back towards the car. Xander turned to follow them and felt Willow’s hand slide into the crook of his arm.
“Hang on a second,” she said softly. She watched until Tara and Dawn had moved away from them and then turned to look at him, “We need to talk tonight,” she said, reaching up to brush her hair behind her ear. “About what were going to do now. How we’re going to handle things.”
Xander nodded, looking at the ground and frowning when he noticed a spot were the grass was taller than the rest.
“Xander,” Willow said, tugging at his arm until he looked up at her, “Are you with us? Are you going to be able to do what needs to be done?”
He looked back at her, wanting to say, Nope, and stroll out of this place without another thought, but he felt himself nodding. “Yeah, Will, whatever you need.”
“Okay,” she said, sighing and then smiling a little. “Can you meet Tara and me at the Bronze tonight? Around eight?”
Xander nodded again, moving slightly so that her hand dropped from his arm. “What about…should we ask Spike?”
Willow frowned at him. “I thought you said that we couldn’t count on Spike, that it would be better to just leave him out of this.”
Xander shrugged. “Yeah, but…I don’t know, Will. This is,” he looked around, avoiding Buffy’s headstone. “This is asking a lot of us, and really I don’t know if we’re gonna be able to do it alone.”
Willow crossed her arms. “I’m not worried about that. And for tonight, it’d be better if Spike weren’t there. Maybe later, when we have some idea of what we’re going to do. Anyway, I need someone to stay with Dawn. So, I figured, after we leave here, I’d go by the crypt and see if…”
“I’ll ask him,” Xander said quickly. Willow raised her brows and Xander cleared his throat and said, “I have stuff to do over by Restfield, anyway, so it won’t be a big deal to stop by.”
Willow shrugged, nodding. “Okay. You can have Spike duty.” She turned to start toward Tara and Dawn. “After all, he’s your patrol buddy and late night escort.” She looked back at him with an impish grin. “Come to think of it, he’s really been up your butt, lately.”
Xander groaned. Naturally, the one bit of Judaism he did remember was, “From your mouth to God’s ears.” He shook his head and followed after her.
Xander walked into his apartment and headed straight for the kitchen to put the bags down on the counter. He glanced into the living room and found Spike sitting at the center of the couch, away from the windows, and leafing through one of the research books Xander had been supposed to look…something up in a while back.
“’Bit okay?” Spike asked, not looking up.
Xander nodded slowly, unloading his purchases, and then remembered to answer aloud. “Yeah, I guess. She, um, she hasn’t cried the last couple of times and Tara says that shows that she’s learning to start dealing with it. Living with it,” he finished quietly.
Spike nodded and Xander turned to open the refrigerator and stumbled over the over-flowing garbage bag that blocked his way. He looked around, discovering that the pizza boxes, beer bottles and empty take-out sacks were gone, presumably stuffed into the bursting bag at his feet.
“Spike…you cleaned,” he said in shock, the quart of milk in his hands falling to land in a safe, non-exploding way on the bag of garbage.
Spike shrugged, flipping pages faster. “I had to find somewhere to sit, didn’t I? And Harris? It smelled,” he looked up and met Xander’s eyes before wetting his thumb and forefinger and turning another page, his attention going back to the book.
Xander picked up the milk and moved the garbage out of the way to finish unpacking his groceries. He snickered a little. “William the Bloody – house vamp,” he chuckled, looking around the room. “What – you couldn’t do the dishes, too?”
Spike slammed the book shut. “Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and deadly, his fingers clenching on the spine of the book. “Look, I picked up your garbage, yeah, fine. I didn’t answer the bloody phone – didn’t ring anyway, you were with anyone who might want to call you, ya stupid wanker. I didn’t touch your precious cds, the comics under your bed are still in their little plastic coats and I only smoked twice.” He shook his head, tossing the book aside. “I did find your porn, though, and I was right – sad lot, that.”
He looked up at Xander, his smirk fading. “So just…don’t. I got to sleep ‘til I wanted to get up, an’ I got to sit here, all non-flamey, so I held up my end of the bargain. I cleaned. Sod it. And then you come in here, dumping your snark on me, because we both know you don’t have the balls to say what you really want…”
“Here,” Xander interrupted. He held his hand out, the dark red bag gleaming in the low light. “I kept my part of the ‘bargain,’ too.”
Spike stood up staring at him, and then slowly made his way over to the kitchen, reaching to take the bag of blood from Xander’s hand. Xander handed it over, seeing Spike stare down at it like it was a fluttering virgin or a children’s choir – or whatever Spike’s vamp kink had been back in the day – and not like plastic full of cold, dead pig juice.
“I need you to do something for me,” Xander said, watching as Spike walked over to the cabinets and started searching for mugs. I’m going to lie to Spike, well, not lie, but not tell and, okay, a week ago, so not big on my list of things that make my gut clench, but now... “Not the Quark’s Bar mug,” he said, shoving Spike gently aside to replace the two-quart novelty cup and reach for something less Trek.
“But it’s the biggest one,” Spike argued. “Welsher.”
“Here,” Xander said, handing him a Batman mug. “Knock yourself out.”
Spike rolled his eyes and headed to the microwave. “So what do you want me to do?” he asked, vamping to rip the bag open with his teeth. “’Cause if it’s laundry, you’ll find it all piled up in the tub.”
“You know we have fancy newfangled machines for that now, right?” Xander paused. “Heh. New fangled,” he snorted and then looked up in horror. "Tell me you didn’t use the cheese grater as a washboard….”
“Barely held my dinner hauling ‘em into the bathroom,” Spike said, setting the timer on the microwave. “What you do with them now is your problem.”
“Now, here’s something I’ve always wondered about,” Xander said, leaning back against the refrigerator and crossing his arms, and then smirking a little as he watched Spike mirror his pose and lean back against the counter. “You don’t breathe, right?”
Spike nodded slowly, his eyes narrowing.
“And yet you have a super-keen sense of smell – not unlike Daredevil, except you’re not blind – so explain to me how this coexistence of no breath yet bloodhound sniffing occurs?”
Spike shrugged. “Don’t have to breathe, ‘s all. But I can still draw in air to scent something out.”
“So you don’t just do it,” Xander said thoughtfully, “you have to make yourself do it. So you were making yourself huff my boxers?”
Spike’s lips fell open and his body language changed to righteous rebuttal just as the microwave pinged and saved him from answering. “What did you need me to do, Harris?” he said instead, lifting the mug to his lips and draining it and then starting the refilling and reheating process again.
“I…we need you to stay with Dawn tonight.”
Spike looked back at him, watching as Xander’s gaze fell from his. “All night?” he asked quietly.
Xander shrugged, flushing a little. “Whatever.”
“So…what’s up with you and the witches that I’m on Niblet watch?”
Xander turned away, busying himself with shaking the garbage bag and searching for a tie. “Just a Scooby meeting. Figuring out what the plan is now.”
“And…you don’t think I should be there for that?” Spike said, turning in irritation as the microwave dinged again.
“That’s not it, it’s just that someone needs to be with Dawn, and…”
“And it should be the person with the least to offer to the big summit,” Spike said, giving him a pointed look.
Xander dropped the garbage bag, walking out of the kitchen and slamming his way back to his bedroom. “Just be at Dawn’s after sunset,” he yelled back through the closed door and then kicked it hard for extra measure.
When Xander opened the door several hours later, he found the living room vamp free, a blood-stained Batman mug sitting in the center of the coffee table. CDs were scattered around the floor, and Xander didn’t even bother to look at the evil Spike had wreaked on his meager, post-Anya, music collection.
He picked up the phone and dialed. “Dawn? Is Spike there? Okay, tell Willow I’ll meet her in a few minutes. What? Oh, well, tell Spike I said right back atcha. What? Oh, nevermind.”
Making his way into the Bronze several pissed off minutes later, Xander saw Tara and Willow sitting at a small round table at the back. He walked over to them, smiling at their heads bent together, allowing himself a moment to ponder what sort of naughtiness they were whispering, and then hopped up onto to the stool closest to Willow.
“Oh, how the mighty Scoobies have fallen,” he said, looking at the two of them and forcing a grin. “I can remember when we could fill an entire booth at the Bronze.” He pointed across the room. “That booth over there. I think it has our names on it. I think they bronzed it.”
Willow and Tara smiled half-heartedly, and then Tara reached for her cup, burying her face in it.
“So, is there a plan?” Xander asked. “Have we figured out a way to do this without losing our ass? ‘Cause I’m dying to hear it, really.”
Willow elbowed him and then picked up her straw, toying with it. “Yeah, I think I’ve come up with an idea.”
“Well, that’s great,” Xander said, looking around for a waitress. Beer was needed now, and he was okay with that. “So what is it? Cast a protection spell on the entire Hellmouth? Turn the demons into Tribbles with a few carefully muttered and hard for me to remember words?” His eyes gleamed. “Use Spike as bait?”
“Um, no,” Willow said, looking to Tara and then reaching out to take her hand and Xander’s. She leaned forward, staring into Xander’s eyes with a small smile playing on her lips. “I don’t think it’ll come to that.” Her fingers tightened on his, painfully. “Xander,” she said, dropping her voice, “I think I know how to bring Buffy back.”
Lyrics from “Never Been to Me” by Charlene
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Oh, with the damn sneaky Willow! I still canNOT believe she got Tara to go along with her - another memory spell, perhaps?? Eeevol Willow.
And you DID shout out to me! You're so cool!
:)
*bounce*
And i like this, but Xander is being mean and Spike is being...well, he's being fine, damnit.
Niiice stuff, bay-beee.
*bounce*
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Oh, there's a lot of Will/Tara comin'. What did Tara really think about Will's brilliant idea? We'll see. I'm glad you liked!
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More S/X goodness!!
*bounce*
And yeah - i could never figure out why Tara went along with it - it'll be cool to see what you think.
*never had a shout-out like that before! Very cool*
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Very happy to see this chapter. Afraid of what might be coming...
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What will this mean for our boys? More nakedness, I say!
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Oh, and I love you, too!
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Let's try that again: I thought the pony tail switch out was beautifully done.
Geez, and I'm the beta?
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Glad the ponytail switch worked. I still wish I could have worked in a little more sexual tension into this bit. Oh, well, there's always Part 10...
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Where are the Gay Cowboys? No pressure, of course ; )
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So much to say...
Spike's threat to rearrange CDs, the way he'd answer the phone, and especially the mocking of porn was so funny.
Xan's memory of Giles and Anya walking with them made me profoundly sad. And also, him wishing Dawn was "holding HIS hand," makes me feel so badly for him. He never got comforted, huh? Poor, pretty baby.
And now I'll never look at my Stargazer lillies the same. Maybe it's Buffy buried in my front garden...
(Saw a little type-o: Xander nodded....a spot were the grass was higher. That's kind of bitchy, just know that I want this to be as technically perfect as it is written perfectly.) Love this!!
Re: So much to say...
One of the things I do that drives Eddie absolutely insane is never put the cds back into the proper cases. If I'm listening to the Beatles and decide I want to hear Dolly Parton, out come the Fab4 and into Dolly's case while she's busy. Then Dolly ends up in Social Distortion (which would be funny - heh) and so on. To quote Chandler Bing: 200 cds...none of them in the right case. I figured that would bug Xander as well.
The Stargazers are a small little tribute (and steal) to tabaqui's "Changes." I kept visualizing stargazers, so I had to use them.
I was older than Xander when mom died (not by much) and I kept staring at people at the funeral home asking me questions thinking, "I'm just a kid! Why the hell are you asking me?" Then I had to hold dad's hand, instead of him holding mine. Thank God for Eddie.
Thanks for catching the typo. I'll run change it after I get out of the Friday morning meeting. Bleah.
I am the Doppelganger, where
Oh, Eddie. I like him more with every little detail. You too.
Re: I am the Doppelganger, where
I've got "Why'd You Come In Here Lookin' Like That" on my rodeo (gay cowboys) cd. I love Dolly. She's my guardian movie star. I'm just really not hiding my redneck cred anymore, am I?
Re: I am the Doppelganger, where
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I loved how Xander took Giles' place by ending the memorial. I suppose we should be heading back, then.
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Oh, wait. You're trying to build me up to all your LJ friends. I should probably shut up.
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I really had no idea that you were going to carry this story through the Buffy resurrection plot -- but the more of this the better, is my opinion.
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* goes off to do Numfar's dance of Joy*
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That made me want to cry. I was going to fb at the end, but that whole grave scene was really really well done, and I wanted to stop so I could remember to mention every single thing I liked about it, like Xander holding Dawn's hand, like Buffy being a Stargazer not for the way she looked at the stars but for the way they looked at her, like how Xander was confessing to Buffy, like how Jesus heaven is Jesus heaven and Jewish heaven is Willow heaven, like Xander noticing the bit of grass and that being such a perfect way to end that perfect perfect scene that still makes me want to cry.
But then I read something about Daredevil and Tribbles and it cracked my shit up and kind of forgot everything I was going to say.
And...well, I don't want to be one of those people who says, "I don't usually like X..." but I want to say, I don't really get Spander all that much, but it makes a lot more sense to me when you write it. I'm enjoying reading this a lot.
And I just know I'll feel compelled to stay up all night to read this to the end. Because it is finished!
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I wrote this story for 2 big reasons 1) I think that Xander loved Buffy more than anyone else had in her life. Not the kind of love that Angel and Spike felt for her, but Buffy's mission shaped Xander's entire life. He lived for Buffy. Her death would send his whole life spiralling in ways it wouldn't Willow and the others. I wanted to look at that, how Xander would change, and how grief would manifest. That was the one thing I was terribly disappointed about in the start of Season 6. I wanted to see more grief (we get it from Dawn and Spike) instead of Giles immediately leaving and Willow throwin' the spell into action.
Now, I get why that was. 1) Tony was leaving, Giles had to leave. 2) They'd just networks and you couldn't possilby introduce a series to a new audience without - you know - the star, so Buffy had to come back ASAP. Having experienced the loss of someone close to me (and having grown up southern and grave/death obsessed - not in a goth way, in a country way. It's a thing) I wanted more to the story of her death. And that's where Without Ceremony came in. It's gen fic, and probably the most incredible description of Buffy's 'funeral' I can imagine ever reading. It shaped a lot of how I wanted to write "Sunday."
And lastly - I loved Spike/Xander. I read so many fics that were truly excellent and I loved the dichotomy that makes them work when it's done well - Xander trying to find something a little darker, a little stronger inside himself to be a man and Spike trying to find the light and the humanity in himself to be a man. The one time I could see it happening for these two (canon wise, because I am a canon whore despite the slash thing) was the summer after "The Gift" when Buffy was gone and everyone was lost. And I think I worked it out the way I had imagined it, and I'd love to hear your thoughts on the way I ended things.
I got an email yesterday that said this was "too genfic for slash fans, too slash for gen readers and too glorious for everyone not to read." Kinda made my day, but not as much as you taking a chance on this - and for your wonderful words. Sorry to give you so many of them back. :)
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I'm very entertained by the song that starts the chapter, because it always makes me think of Priscilla Queen of the Desert!
What the hell radio station was that thing set on? teehee! *g*
I really like how it starts with Xander trying to process what happened the night before. This passage, in particular, so wonderfully deals with the varying reactions he'd have:
He didn’t want to feel like this. He didn’t want to look at Spike and see ‘pretty’ and ‘strong’ and ‘dangerously hot.’ He dropped his eyes from the sleek lines of Spike’s back, staring blindly at the white sheets as if their blankness would blanket these thoughts. What was in this insane attraction to Spike? Was it just the inherent “Come to me, my pretty” danger in Spike that had nothing to do with him being a guy or no longer of the living? Or was it something more…and we’re not going there.
I'm very fond of "their blankness would blanket", it's a very fun play with words and nicely describes the way Xander's staring. And I love that the last sentence opens up something more and then quickly backs away from it.
I love Spike moving in the bed because it makes me wonder if Spike's awake. And this is very awesome: Or hibernating or regenerating or whatever vampires did.
I enjoy the comment about the short shower (cause he doesn't need one after the night before!) and Xander trying to be all quiet. And I love this interaction so much, very funny and so S/X:
“Suppose so,” Spike answered, snuggling back down into the sheets with a grin. “Find and mock your porn, answer the phone with ‘Harris’ bitch,’ put your albums in all the wrong cases…no shortage of evil I can get up to on my own.”
“Don’t answer my phone,” Xander said with a stern finger point, and then grabbed his keys and left.
I continue to enjoy how you incorporate humour into the quieter parts:
Peaceful, unthinky normalcy. Okay, time to get the witches and the teen of vague mystical energy to go visit the secret, hidden grave of a vampire slayer. Bring on the normal. Love the playing with what's "normal" in their universe.
I adore the entire going to Buffy's grave sequence, it's so wonderfully poignant. I love how there's an unspoken order that they walk in and the rituals that they have. It's so sad when he remembers Giles and Anya. This line really stands out, it's such a simple yet a perfect statement on the situation:
The truth was, none of them really knew what to do once they got here.
Because I don't know flowers I looked up the Stargazer Lilies and they do seem perfect! I love all of Xander's internal thoughts and imaginings in this section, especially this part because of how he repeats her name:
Buffy Anne Summers. If he just read it like that, all together, it didn’t seem like the same person. Had he even known her middle name was Anne? He stared at it harder. Buffy Anne Summers. Buffy. Buffy, I….
Buffy, I fucked Spike. Xander’s eyes opened wide and bit down on his lip, hard. He hadn’t thought that. It’d be like yelling, “fuck” or “goddamnit” in a church. Buffy, I left Anya, or she left me, and I fucked Spike, or almost, and now I think I might be…Xander’s teeth snapped down on the tip of his tongue, tasting blood. And I adore how he feels like he's sworn in a church. And it's so neat to me that he'd tell Buffy first (even if it's not really Buffy) because I suspect that she would be the one he'd tell first about this. Probably because he thinks she would understand the best. (It's late and I wish I could articulate that better ...)
It's also a really neat moment when Tara seems to misinterpret what Xander's thinking about, and he has that uncomfortable feeling that he's not thinking the right thoughts. I love Xander imagining Buffy in "Slayer heaven" and then comparing it to "Jesus heaven". And I love him chewing his lip, it's such a neat detail. It's interesting that Xander takes Giles' place unawares: “I suppose we should be heading back, then,” he heard himself say.
Continued...
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Xander nodded, looking at the ground and frowning when he noticed a spot were the grass was taller than the rest. Such a lovely moment.
The story shifts nicely to the humour of Xander discovering Spike has cleaned. I love Xander's amused reaction and Spike's totally defensive one:
Spike slammed the book shut. “Don’t,” he growled, his voice low and deadly, his fingers clenching on the spine of the book. “Look, I picked up your garbage, yeah, fine. I didn’t answer the bloody phone – didn’t ring anyway, you were with anyone who might want to call you, ya stupid wanker. I didn’t touch your precious cds, the comics under your bed are still in their little plastic coats and I only smoked twice.” He shook his head, tossing the book aside. “I did find your porn, though, and I was right – sad lot, that.” heee to the porn insulting!
I adore Xander worrying about lying to Spike:
I’m going to lie to Spike, well, not lie, but not tell and, okay, a week ago, so not big on my list of things that make but gut clench, but now... I really like how it suggests the potential for feelings towards Spike without being totally overt.
And the mix of humour and serious continues to work so well. Oh, I was totally laughing at the "new fangled" line (I love that sort of humour)!! And this whole part is so very funny:
“So you don’t just do it,” Xander said thoughtfully, “you have to make yourself do it. So you were making yourself huff my boxers?”
I love the turn it takes at the end of this part:
“And it should be the person with the least to offer to the big summit,” Spike said, giving him a pointed look. Lovely way of demonstrating that Spike is insecure about things by having him lash out - and he always knows people's weaknesses.
It's interesting how Xander's clearly putting on a role with Willow and Tara (ie. the forcing of the grin and the very jovial talk), to cover up what he's going through. Love his so Xander-ish humour: “That booth over there. I think it has our names on it. I think they bronzed it.” hee!
And the chapter ends with such a great revelation! I love that you're exploring these canony things and we get to find out about this part of the decision about resurrecting Buffy!!!
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This was a scene I wrote quickly, because I felt the need to post. Oh, the bane of the WiP! Plus it was where the whole dreaded plot comes in, with how Xander's going to react to Willow's plan once he hears it, that he and Spike have something going that no one knows about and that Spike and Xander would still be uncertain with what to do with one another if they aren't naked. And yeah, Spike goes for the jugular when he's insecure.
Hee! I think you're the first to laugh at "bronzed it." I wanted a really cheesy, ala "creation of the moon pie" Xander joke, and that one worked for me.
And to the last - I really wanted to get some backstory, how Xander first heard about Willow's resurrection plan, how he felt about it initially (in Bargainning it seems to be an established thing, but there's no real discussion as to how long the plan's been brewing. And again, the main reason I wrote this story was to give my idea of how their grief might have manifested, since we saw very little of it before the resuurection spell kicked into gear.
And thank you again for your wonderful feedback, I'm enjoying it greatly!
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The truth was, none of them really knew what to do once they got here. I'm sure I've already mentioned this, so please forgive me for reitterating, but one of the reasons I wanted to write this particular story was not only to try a) my first S/X and b) something as close to canon as I could write but also c) because of my own experiences after my Mom died. In the first year or so, I would visit her grave regularly because it was all that I left of her, and I felt like I was supposed to. I can remember vividly, standing there and thinking "What am I supposed to do? Should I be doing something? Do I look solemn enough?" I'd usually just feel empty and end up pulling weeds.
Stargazer Lilies came from Tabaqui's story "Changes." We were both posting this around the same time, and I threw that in and then had my beta remind me that Tabi had just used them in "Changes." I credited Tabi for that, she blushed, and I really liked the idea of Stargazers, both for the name and the fact that they're so open, full and joyful looking.
The repetition of the name also came from my experiences with Mom's death. I'd look at her headstone and think how weird it was to see her name on it - on a headstone. And since it read "Mazie Ann [My Maiden Name]" I realized that if I just read it all together like that, it didn't feel like her, like Mom. I know the opinion of fandom Mary-Sueism, but I'm totally candid about how much Sue there is in Xander in this story.
Thank you so much for your wonderful words - I love how you pick the things I loved as I wrote and pick some things I've been iffy on from day one, because it's very reassuring. :)