PART 13 - Return Policy
This was not his day. He hadn't been able to find anything nasty to
kill. The only food he was able to buy was pig's blood. He was almost out of
money, as usual, and when he tried to swipe some booze and fags he almost got
the crap beaten out of him by some Chinese store owner's kung fu fighting son.
Having to run away from a 16-year-old would-be JetLi was just one more nail in
his coffin - all courtesy of the Initiative. *God, I really hate this chip.*
He had lost half his loot and his pants had a long horizontal tear just
under his bottom, where the old Chinese shopkeeper had slashed his thigh with a
butcher knife. Thank God he hadn't worn his duster! It was hard enough keeping
it in good condition even without people shredding it with a machete.
Back in the tunnels, he quickly located the place where he had left
Anya's stupid little Tupperware container. *God, what a ridiculous sight, a
master vampire prancing around through the sewers holding a little plastic dish
under a blanket.* So, why was he carrying the damn thing around? Because it
was his only excuse to turn up at Harris's doorstep.
He arrived at Xander's apartment just after sunset. It was a nice place.
He had climbed onto the balcony a few times and looked inside through the large
windows. He had been curious what the boy's new home looked like. *Yes,
curious. Nothing more.* Hell, he knew where Anya used to live, too. And the
others. Always looking in from the outside.
He rang the bell, not entirely without apprehension. But it wasn't
Xander who opened the door.
"Spike? What are you doing here?" Anya asked, surprised but
cheerful.
"Was in the area and thought I'd drop this off." He held the
plastic dish out to her.
"Thank you," she said, nodding. "Did you know that sometimes,
when you lend things to people, they never bring them back? That's so
rude."
Spike just shrugged, trying to get a peek into the apartment. Was Xander
not in?
Anya paused and looked at him.
"Do you still have that chip in your head?" she asked.
"Yeah. I'm still all chipper," he said morosely.
"How do I know you're telling the truth?" Anya asked him.
"You don't." Spike shrugged.
"If I invite you in, will you promise not to come back and kill us
in our sleep, when that chip comes out?"
"Yeah, alright, I promise. I mean, I won't kill you here, but I
might do it elsewhere, you know, if we happen to bump into each other at the
cemetery? 'S that alright with you?"
"Okay," Anya said, satisfied. "In that case you may come
in, Spike."
Spike was never one to need a second invite. He slipped inside past Anya
as she closed the door.
"Oh!" Anya exclaimed. "But you mustn't sit down
anywhere!"
"Why not?"
"I don't want you to leave blood stains on the upholstery."
"Still bleeding, is it?" he craned his neck, but couldn't see
the gash in his leg. "Thought it might have healed already." He
grinned inwardly. *Looking at my bum, are you, Anyanka?*
"If you take your trousers off I can put a band aid on your
injury," Anya offered.
"What?" he was taken aback.
"We have a very well-stocked first aid kit. I even have band aids
with antibiotic already on them. They
were on sale. So, when Xander gets beaten up by vampires and demons he doesn't
need to go to a doctor. He doesn't like hospitals and doctors. He is scared
they'll give him injections."
He considered her offer for a moment. Oh, he could so picture himself
lying around with his bottom bare (he never wore underwear) and Anya dabbing
the wound with tiny balls of cotton and what not. Chances are, Xander would
walk through the door at exactly that moment, jump to all kinds of wrong
conclusions and stake him outright, no questions asked. Spike had long since
arrived at the conviction that whatever power was responsible for the
allocation of bad luck and bad timing, he, she or it had it in for him. Big
time.
"Speaking of Xander, where is he?" he asked, trying - without
great success - not to think about twosomes or threesomes. *Damn you,
Xander!*
"He's doing the shopping for next week. I expect him to return any
time now."
He smiled into Anya's pretty brown eyes. "Um, no need for a band
aid..." *Coward!* "But if I could just use your bathroom to
freshen up a bit?"
She showed him into the bathroom and gave him a cloth and a towel. He
quickly undressed, washed himself, rinsed most of the blood out of his pants, wrung
them out thoroughly and put them on again. *Ugh, cold and sticky!*
Without any body heat they would take ages to dry. No longer William the Bloody
but William the Wet he emerged from the bathroom.
"Your pants are wet," Anya said, ogling the way the damp
fabric clung to the man's bottom. "Do you want to borrow some of
Xander's?"
"I'd rather go naked."
Anya gave him a blank stare but then she smiled. "Ah, humor. I get
it."
"Nice digs," he said, truthfully, after dutifully admiring the
large living room and the kitchenette. "What do the other rooms look
like?"
Anya was pleased, because she did not often get an opportunity to show
off her worldly possessions. To her, they signified success. So, she showed him
around, yammering on and on about pieces of furniture she still wanted to buy
and about how they had lost their cleaning deposit. Then she showed him her
laptop computer and the website she had designed for the Magic Box. But they quickly
moved on to other subjects, and ended up talking about the other Scoobies.
Before he knew it, they had spent the better part of an hour shamelessly
gossiping about Willow's claims on Xander's friendship, Tara's horrible family,
Angel's sex life or lack thereof and Buffy's non-existent love life.
"Would you believe that she was actually interested in this guy
Ben? What a lapse of taste!" Spike complained.
"I bet she was glad she never had sex with him," Anya
pondered. "Can you imagine having sex with a man, and he suddenly turns
into a hellgod, and a female one at that?" She sounded fascinated.
"Yeah well, I wouldn't have touched either of them with a
barge-pole." Spike said, truthfully. "Good riddance."
"Sorry," Anya said, suddenly remembering something Xander had
tried to explain to her about being a good hostess when they had guests.
"I should offer you a beverage. But I have no blood in the fridge. Perhaps
you would like something else to drink?"
"Not to worry," Spike said. "Actually, I've got some
pig's blood right here, so if I could use your microwave to heat it..."
"Sure. Well, if you and Xander are going to be best male friends,
perhaps I should stock up on some."
While Spike was fixing his blood in the kitchen, Anya was busy spreading
a garbage bag on the sofa so that it wouldn't get wet when the vampire sat
down. As Spike came back into the living room to take a seat, they heard the
key rattling in the lock. "Anya, I'm home," Xander declared.