PART 17 - After Dark
When Xander finally arrived at the cemetery it was already long past
nightfall. Gusts of wind were hurling
leaves into the air and there was the distant rumble of an approaching
thunderstorm. He had been determined not to go, but eventually he had been
annoyed by his own cowardice and Anya's incessant nagging. *This has got to
end.* He groped around on the floor of the car and grabbed two of the
stakes that lay scattered there. *I'm not Spike's butt-monkey.* He
tucked one into his back pocket and put the other into the pocket of his
jacket. *Did I really say I like the guy? Well, I lied.* He grabbed his
tool belt and locked the car. *I'm not looking for a vampire buddy. I like
my friends without the evil.*
He felt a bit stupid about this because he KNEW there was nothing at
that crypt that needed 'fixing'. Still, Anya would have noticed if he had left
without his tools, and leaving them in the car didn't seem like a good idea.
And armed with his tools, he could at least pretend that he didn't know what
Spike really wanted him in his crypt for.
*And I think I just passed Denial 101 with flying colors.*
As he neared Spike's mausoleum he saw yellow light seeping out through
the arched windows. He could also hear the faint sound of music. He silently
approached the crypt door and slowly pressed down the handle, hoping the Doors
would drown out the sound of his entry.
...There's a killer on the road
His brain is squirmin' like a toad
Take a long holiday...
He quietly opened the door, his heart beating fast for reasons he wasn't
prepared to contemplate. The crypt was lit by dozens of candles that gave off a
warm *romantic* glow. Spike was sitting in his armchair, with his back
towards the door and his shoulders stooping forward. A few lit candles were
standing on a small rickety table beside him. From the glowing tip of an
incense stick, blue smoke curled upwards. For once, the mausoleum didn't smell
of death, decay and mould. Spike's
right hand was lying on the armrest holding something that looked suspiciously
like a joint. The music came from a small portable tape deck that stood on the
floor.
...Into this house we're born
Into this world we're thrown...
Xander suddenly felt like an intruder. *Good! Give him some of his
own medicine!* He tried to rekindle his anger at Spike. Anger was good. It
kept him from thinking about the vampire's lips and his eyes and... *Oh no!
Stop! Not going there.* He stepped in and slammed the door shut. The effect
it had on the vampire was gratifying. Spike flinched, tossed his joint to the
floor and quickly bent forward out of sight, as if he was hiding something.
Less than a moment later he propelled himself out of the chair and turned
around with a snarl, vampiric features to the fore, facing his visitor.
"Oh, it's you," Spike said, when he recognized Xander,
instantly dropping the predator act. His features shimmered briefly, then his
handsome human face was back in place. "Hi! What took you?" he asked,
smiling, unable to keep his eyes from roaming appreciatively over Xander's
broad and muscular body. The boy was wearing tight faded denims and a plain
white T-Shirt, obviously work clothes. A pleasant change from his usual
wardrobe. But Spike's smile faded when he noticed the scowl on Xander's face.
"Did you think you'd just have to snap your fingers and I'd come
running?" Xander asked, radiating hostility.
"Well, you're here, aren't ya?" Spike answered softly, unable
to fully appreciate his victory. It had been fun pushing the boy's buttons back
at his place; fun, but also stupid. He took a few steps towards the human.
"But what do you think you're doing here at night, all alone. For God's
sake, Harris, you're really asking for it."
"Oh yeah? Is that what you think? That I'm asking for... something?
What am I asking for? Tell me, Spike. Or should I say, what are YOU asking for?
Since it was YOU who blackmailed ME into coming here..." *Anger is
good. Anger is good.*
"Huh? Are you daft? All I'm saying is that you shouldn't be out
here after sunset, all on yer own! This is a bleedin' cemetery, with all kinds
of nasties out there who'd be happy to get a taste of you." He shook his
head in exasperation. "As for the rest... I didn't... I mean, I wasn't...
oh, bloody hell! Think what you will." Spike turned around, crushed the
still smoldering joint under his boot and picked up his cigarettes, fumbling
awkwardly to get one out of the packet. *Good Lord, does he really think I'd
force myself on him?*
Xander noted that this was the second time the vampire had expressed
concern for his safety. *If he goes on like this I'll end up believing him.*
It was hard to maintain a facade of hostility and anger when the vampire before
him looked so... vulnerable. Xander was also uncomfortably aware of the fact
that he was primarily angry with himself. Last but not least, he noticed that
the vampire was still wearing yesterday's pants. Xander found himself staring
at that little bit of white buttock that was showing through the tear.
After the vampire lit his cigarette, he turned around to look at the
human. "I wasn't blackmailing you," Spike said tiredly, wondering how
he always managed to cock up around humans, and around this human in
particular. "Well, perhaps a little," he admitted with a shrug. "Obviously
not one of my brightest ideas. Look, if you wanna go home I'll take you to your
car."
Spike grabbed his leather jacket from the marble angel it was hanging on
and headed for the door. Xander made no move to leave. He just stood there,
trying to come to a decision.
Xander didn't know how often he had replayed that kiss in his mind since
he had fled from Spike's crypt yesterday afternoon. Often. It had felt like
watching an exciting movie that was cut off by a power blackout just as it
became interesting. And he had to admit to himself that he was dying to know
what would happen next.
So far, The Young Xander Harris Sex Wars Chronicles consisted of - he
quickly counted - six exciting episodes... starring a giant praying mantis, an
Incan mummy girl, the most self-involved high school beauty of the Western
hemisphere, a delinquent Slayer and a thousand-year-old ex-vengeance-demon, not
to mention the stellar cast of Sunnydale's entire female population lusting
after him because of a botched love spell. For two years now he had lived with
the belief that his love life could not possibly get any weirder. *Oh boy,
was I ever wrong!*
*Is it the Hellmouth or is it me? And does it really matter?* he asked himself.
He knew he wasn't the world's most courageous guy, but he had faced monsters
and demons and Principal Snyder without completely disgracing himself, and
somehow he had always come out of every catastrophe alive. Even without having
any super-powers. He wasn't going to let a simple kiss or a horny vampire scare
him again.
"Nope. Not going home," Xander said. "More talking, less
running away." He smiled at his Anya-ism.
"Oh?" Spike warily raised an eyebrow.
"Unless you want me to leave?"
*How about less talking and more shagging?* Spike sighed inwardly. But all he said was
"Stay."