Spike was seething with hatred. He hated sitting in that fucking
wheelchair. Hated the Slayer for putting him there by dropping that goddamn
organ on him. Hated being helpless and hungry. Hated not being able to hunt, fight,
kill, feed, shag. But most of all he hated Angelus.
Every single gesture that passed between Angelus and Drusilla, every
touch, every word cut like a knife, like it was meant to. Angelus toyed with
Drusilla, not because he felt anything for her, but because he could. Because
Spike’s spine was broken. Because there was nothing Spike could do to stop him.
Who’d have thought jealousy could hurt so much?
Spike watched with perverse intensity as Angelus slid his hands
underneath Drusilla’s skirts. Spike listened as they laughed and told him of
their exploits. They were sated and smelled of sex and violence. They had
caught a young girl and brought her into the mansion alive, but they had killed
her without inviting Spike to join them.
“I guess we forgot. We got tied up,” Angelus grinned and rubbed
Drusilla’s wrists demonstrably. She giggled. Spike struggled not to let his
humiliation and fury show.
“There, there…,”Angelus patted Spike on the head before grabbing him by his
hair and forcing him to look up. “I’m sure we can find something for you to…”
Spike woke with a start. His body was tense with hatred and humiliation,
like a clenched fist. It took him a moment to realize when and where he was.
When he did, his rage didn’t exactly go away - only a decent bout of
destruction and violence would do the trick - but at least it cooled off a bit.
Spike shook his head to clear his mind.
Two years worth of acting under the threat of chip induced migraines had
done wonders for his self-control.
There were sounds of arguing coming from the bedroom. *Bollocks!*
Spike rolled off the sofa and hastily slipped into his pants, hopping on one
leg towards the bedroom door. He could hear Xander and Anya talking in raised
voices. He pulled up the zipper and ran his hands through his hair. It was soft
and poofy without the usual gel. *Ah well, no time for that now.*
“You wasted no time, did you?” Xander was just saying. He sounded hurt
and insecure. “Is there anything else I should know about?”
“You started this,” was Anya’s confused and irritated reply. Spike
realized their argument was about what’d happened last night, between him and
Anya.
*Bollocks!* he thought once more, but then he corrected himself. *No
wait! Not bollocks. The jack is out of the box, that’s all. Was bound to
happen.* Not bothering to knock,
Spike just opened the door. He was momentarily blinded by bright (but
fortunately indirect) daylight.
“I didn’t think you’d mind. Why should you? YOU invited him to have sex with
us. It was your idea,” Anya was shouting. She and Xander were still in their
pjs. Both were too caught up in their argument to notice the vampire. “You say
you wanted him for me, but how do I know you haven’t been hankering after his
body for years already? How do I know you weren’t thinking about HIM whenever
we were having sex?”
Spike took a deep breath, bracing himself for the inevitable. “Don’t,”
he said.
Xander flinched, startled by the interruption, and quickly turned
towards the intruder. He saw Anya do the same.
The vampire stood in the doorway, just beyond the threshold. He made no
move to come in. He was barefoot, dressed only in his black leather pants, hair
all unruly and in soft waves, almost curly. He looked even paler than usual in
the bright morning light, beautiful but also not quite human. Xander was
acutely aware of the effect that lean, masculine body was having on him. He
also found himself wondering if Anya felt the same way, and what Spike felt for
Anya, and what if both had seen him as second best all along. That’s when he
freaked.
“Spike!” Xander exclaimed, hot anger honing in on the new target.
“You’re just in time to watch us bring the house down.”
“Don’t.” the vampire repeated, lifting his hands pleadingly. It looked
as if he was trying to ward off a blow. “Don’t do this to yourselves.”
“What? Isn’t this what you planned all along?” Xander snapped. He
couldn’t help it, he was overcome by raging insecurity, not to mention the
mounting dread that what was happening between Anya and him might be the
beginning of the end.
“Do you think so?” Anya interjected, sounding uncertain. “Do you think
he lied to me… us?” The look of betrayal and sadness in her eyes just helped to
fuel Xander’s anger.
Spike dropped his hands, in a gesture of defeat and shook his head.
“You can bring out the popcorn, Spike. What with Anya and me, fighting,”
Xander continued accusingly. “Front row seat and all.” Part of him knew he was
being unfair because the vampire looked anything but happy, but another part of
him felt like lashing out.
“Fine,” Spike said coldly. “Think what you will.” He was struggling for
composure but felt his self-control crumbling. Spike had known there’d be
setbacks. *Rome wasn’t built in a day* he tried to remind himself. Even
so, Xander’s mistrust felt like a knife that was twisted around in his gut. It
hurt and it made him furious.
*Christ, why is all this
getting-along-with-people shit so bleedin’ difficult? God knows it was
difficult enough when I was alive. How on earth am I supposed to know what to
do or say? It's not like I spent the last 120 years honing my bloody social
skills.*
The vampire turned around and strode back into the living room.
*Shit, I did it again!* Xander stared at Spike’s retreating back. “Hey!
Not so fast,” he exclaimed. He hastened to follow the vampire into the darkened
living room, Anya at his heels. They almost bumped into him, when Spike
suddenly stopped and turned around. He looked absolutely livid.
“You know, I’ve had it with you bloody humans,” Spike shouted in a
mixture of exasperation and anger. He began pacing. “I’m fed up with all this
farting around. I mean, what’s it take? How many bloody hoops do I have to jump
through before you get it into your thick skull, Harris: I’m not your enemy. Or
Anya’s! It was YOU, Xander, who made me come back from L.A. and now you think
that was all part of my grand evil master plan? Oh please!”
Xander tried to get a word in between, but the vampire was on a roll.
“Already told Anya last night,” Spike continued, gesturing towards the
ex-demon, “I’ve no intention of wrecking that thing you’ve got. Not my MO.” The
vampire stopped pacing and stood in front of Xander. “But you don’t need me for
that, do you? You can mess this up all by yourself. Don’t think I don’t know
that your worst nightmare is. Not the hellmouth. Not nasties like me. You’re
just scared you’ll end up like your soddin’ parents. Am I right? Well, let me
tell ya, you’re on your best way!”
Xander cringed. Anya reached for her fiancé’s hand. He didn’t respond.
His arms were limply hanging at his sides. The vampire’s words were like a slap
in the face. *How come he knows these…things?*
“I… I’m…” Xander stammered.
“You’re what? Twenty-one?” With two long strides Spike was standing next
to his duffle bag. He picked it up and rummaged around in it, without
interrupting his tirade. “The way you and Anya talk is like you can’t reach
fifty fast enough. House, kids, rings, forever blah blah. You live on the
hellmouth and you can snuff it any day, so why make everything so bloody
complicated?” He yanked a black T-shirt out and pulled it over his head. “Seize
the day, for Christ’s sake!” He sat down and started to put on his shoes,
fumbling ineffectually with the laces.
“What’s wrong with wanting a house and kids and a car and all those
things?” Anya asked, looking alternately at her fiancé and the vampire. “It’s
what humans do. I am human now. I’m trying to act like one. It’s hard work,
what with all those rules and strange human traditions, but I don’t mind. I
want Xander to be happy. I love him,” she stated simply.
Xander swallowed. He squeezed Anya’s hand, suddenly very certain of what
he wanted. “And I love you too,” he said and turned to look at her. “Very
much.” He pulled her into his arms and proceeded to kiss her anxiety and
confusion away.
Spike looked up from his laces. He hadn’t seen the two mortals kiss like
that since what seemed like forever. Not since the day the Gentlemen had stolen
everybody’s voices. He watched quietly for a moment before wrenching his gaze
and attention back to his boots.
Most of his anger was spent, as was most of his momentum. He wearily got
up and slung his bag over his shoulder. He tried to concentrate on the task of
getting back to his crypt without catching fire. The deSoto was parked too far
away. He’d have to borrow a blanket. Maybe the building had access to the
sewers…
Spike made his way to the door, when suddenly a hand touched his
shoulder. He turned around.
“You’re running away again,” Xander stated, one arm around Anya’s waist.
“You’re how old? One hundred and twentysomething? Well, my pointy-toothed
friend, you’re acting like a five-year old, throwing tantrums, sulking… I
should know, I’ve often been told that that’s my mental age.”
Spike frowned, trying to understand Xander’s sudden change of tone.
“Sulking! I’m a vampire. Vampires don’t sulk.”
“They must, because you are.”
“Am not.”
“Actually, Xander’s right. You are,” Anya interjected amiably.
“Don’t run away again, Spike. Last week was bad enough,” Xander pleaded.
“I’m sorry. Again. I still mean what I said on the phone. I just had a
temporary lapse of… I dunno…”
“Trust.” Spike prompted.
“Yeah,” Xander admitted unhappily. “But I’m working on it. So, are you
staying for breakfast? We could, like, talk and um, well, talk…”
“Or we could play Scrabble,” Anya suggested cheerfully.
“Scrabble?” Xander and Spike replied as one.