A Beautiful Friendship: A Wow Finish
by fej
Part 9, A Wow Finish
Later that day, in the Blue Suede Shoe, Xander and Faith are sitting in a darkened secluded booth in the back of the joint. A waiter serves cappuccino frozen yoghurt's, with Gummi bears and rainbow sprinkles on top, to both.
"Shall we do the legal thing, with papers and all that shit, or is a wet high-five good enough?" Faith asks.
"It's certainly not good enough," scowls Xander, in ironic good humor, "but since I'm in a hurry it'll have to do."
Faith spreads some more sprinkles on top of Xander's treat and says, "Ah, to get out of Casablanca and go back to America! You're a lucky man, X."
"By the way, my agreement with Giles and Lorne is they get twenty-five percent of the profits. That still goes."
"Hmm, I happen to know G and L get ten. But they're worth twenty-five, so that's cool."
He pauses to pick cold Gummi bear out of his teeth. "And Tara, Willow and Andrew, they stay with the place, if they want, or I don't sell."
"Of course they stay. Al's wouldn't be Al's without them. And maybe I can get in on some of that girlie action, could be wicked fun!"
"Well, so long, Faith. It's been real interesting having you around."
They both get up, respectfully spit in their respective palms, swing their arms up high and do a "wet" high-five on the deal, excess spittle spraying nearby patrons. Xander walks to the door, pauses and turns back to Faith. "And don't forget, you owe Al's a hundred cartons of parsley flakes."
"I shall remember to pay it...to myself!" she chortles.
Nighttime has now fallen. The front door to Al's has a sign on it:
"Closed by order of the Prefect of Police".
Inside, Xander sits at a table, casually looking over the talismans of transit, flipping them from one hand to the other and back again. They look very much like the old "Y" tokens once used on the New York City subway. At a knock on the door he puts them away in his pocket and goes to answer. Spike quickly enters.
"You're late," Xander accuses.
Spike is blissfully unconcerned, the kind of bliss one knows when one feels as if one is in control of one's situation. "I was informed just as Angel was leaving ze 'otel, so I knew I'd be on time."
Xander growls, "I thought I asked you to tie up your hellhounds."
"Oh, 'Ee won't be followed 'ere." Spike looks around the room carefully. "You know, zis place won't be ze same without you, Alex," says Spike, faint signs of wistful regret in his voice.
"Yes, I know what you mean. But I've already spoken to Faith. You'll still win at Donkey Kong."
Spike smirks to himself, satisfied. "Is everything ready?"
Patting his pocket, Xander gives him the answer. "I have the talismans right here."
"Tell me, when we searched ze place, where were zey?"
"Inside Giles's guitar."
"Serves me right for not being musical," Spike muses, with not even an iota of irony.
At that moment the sound of another car is heard from outside. Xander looks up at the door. "Here they are. You'd better go wait in my office."
Spike gets up from the table and trots up the stairs and out of sight.
Outside, Angel goes to pay the driver as Cordelia walks up to the door, Xander opening it just as she gets there. He can easily see she is seriously wigging out as she rushes up to him. He gathers her up and pulls her close.
"Xander, Angel thinks I'm leaving with him! Haven't you told him?"
"Not yet."
"But it's all right, isn't it? You were able to arrange everything?"
"Everything is all right," he deadpans.
"Oh, Xander!" she hugs him close, reveling in his warmth.
"We'll tell him at the airport. The less time to think the easier for all of us. Please trust me."
She is unsure for a moment, but relents. "Yes, I will." They separate before Angel can see them and they proceed down into the main sitting area.
Angel comes in shortly after and closes the door, then joins them in the middle of the room. "Xander, I don't know how to thank you."
"Don't. Getting rid of you will be thanks enough. We've still lots of things to do."
The three of them move over to the bar as Spike watches from above.
Angel begins to reach into his trademark duster. "I brought the payment, Xander"
"Keep it, you'll need it in America," Xander says, waving him off.
Angel protests, "But we had a deal!"
"Never mind about that. You won't have any trouble in Lisbon?"
Angel is a bit nonplussed by Xander's attitude but decides not to say anything. "No, it's all arranged."
"Good. I've got the talismans right here," Xander informs Angel, putting his hand in his pocket, "all set to go." He takes out the two medallions to show Angel. "All you have to do is put a drop of your blood on them and chant each of your names three times."
"Gregorian?"
"No, no. Just say your name in a low melodramatic whisper. And remember, just three time. No more, no less. Not four and not two - unless you go on to three. Don't even think about five.
"Yeah, yeah," Angel cuts him off impatiently, "we've all seen the movie. Three. Got it. Sheesh, how immature can you get?"
Xander rolls his eyes. "Can I just say 'wig'!" He hands the subway tokens over to Angel anyway, who takes them gratefully.
Spike comes charging out. "Angel! You are under arrest, on ze charge of accessory to murder of ze lackeys from 'om zose talismans were stolen."
Cordelia and Angel are stunned, caught completely off guard, each of them with a deer-in-the-headlights look. Cordelia is horrified as Spike takes the talismans. Noting this, Spike explains, "Oh, you are surprised about my friend Alex?" Spike is insufferably delighted with the whole situation. "Ze explanation is quite simple. Love," glancing at Xander, "it seems, 'as triumphed over virtue. Zank--"
"Not so fast, Spike." Xander is holding a gun pointed right at Spike. "No one is going to be arrested. Not for awhile yet."
"'Ave you taken leave of your senses?" asks a dumbfounded Spike.
Xander chuckles a bit, a small self-satisfied smile emerging. "Perhaps I have. Sit down over there," he commands, waving the gun in the direction he wants Spike to go.
"Put zat gun down!" Spike protests, cringing slightly at the waver he's unable to keep out of his voice.
"Spike, I wouldn't like to shoot you--OK, actually I would--but you've become quite amusing since your Shanshu, with your horrible and silly French accent, and I'd prefer not to. But I will if you take one more step."
Spike thoughtfully studies Xander, scrutinizing his posture and expression. He quickly concludes Xander is deadly serious and not bluffing one bit. "Under ze circumstances...I will sit."
"And keep your hands on the table!"
"I suppose you know what you're doing, but I wonder if you realize what zis means?"
Xander is confident and in control of the situation. "I do. We've got plenty of time to discuss that later."
"Call off your 'ellhounds, you said," a chagrined Spike recalls, ruefully nodding his head.
"Just the same, you call the airport and let me hear you tell them. And remember, this gun is pointed right at your heart, which is now beating. This time it will kill."
"Zat is still my least vulnerable spot," Spike retorts as he picks up the phone and dials. "'Ello, is zis ze airport? Zis is Captain William speaking. Zere will be two talismans of transit for ze Lisbon carpet. Zere's to be no trouble about zem. Good!"
Miles away, across town, Buffy is holding the phone, frowning at it in confusion. "Hello? Hello?" She slams down the phone and yells, "MY CAR!" She grabs the phone again and calls the police station. "This is Buffy. Have a squad of police meet me at the airport, at once. At once!"
---
The airport is mostly dark, wrapped in fog, every quarter draped in ethereal and wispy curtains of eerily lit greyness . A huge carpet is just barely visible from the hanger where the orderly, Tara, speaks into the phone. "Hello, radio tower? The Lisbon carpet is taking off in ten minutes. East runway. Visibility is 1-1/2 miles. Light, yet subtly lit and dramatically swirling ground fog. Magic peerage ceiling unlimited. Thank you."
She spots the car that has just pulled onto the tarmac and moves over to it. Spike slowly steps out, followed closely by Xander, his hand in the pocket, covering him. Cordelia and Angel are last to get out.
"Spike, have your people go with Angel and take care of his luggage."
"Certainly, Alex, anything you say." He turns to Tara, "Get Angel's luggage and put it on ze carpet."
"Yes, sir," she salutes Spike, then turns to face Angel. "This way please." She looks back over her shoulder to ask Xander, "And can I exit this story as soon as I'm done with that?"
Xander replies laconically, "Yeah, sure. But no more free drinks at the bar!"
"Not a problem, Xander! Not a problem." She helps Angel with the luggage.
Xander hands the talismans to Spike as they walk toward the hanger. "If you don't mind, you complete them with your blood. That will make it even more official."
"You zink of everything, don't you?" Spike huffs with grudging respect.
"And the names to chant are Angel's and Cordelia's."
Spike stops and turns as does Cordelia. Both of them gape at Xander in astonishment.
"But why my name, Xander?" Cordelia cries.
"Because you're getting on that carpet," Xander informs her in a firm commanding tone.
She is confused, not understanding. "I'm confused. I don't understand. What about you?"
"I'm staying here, with him, till the carpet gets safely away."
His intentions suddenly become clear to her. She takes a quick step to close the distance between them. "No, Xander, no! What's happened to you? Last night we said--"
He gazes lovingly down at her, his hand moving up to caress her face, his thumb tracing tenderly along her cheek. "Last night we said a great many things. You said I was to do the thinking for both of us. Well, I've done a lot of it since then, and it all adds up to one thing. You're getting on that carpet, with Angel, where you belong."
"But Xander, no, I--" She reaches up to grasp his arm, to hold onto him. Her confusion has begun to turn to anguish as she realizes the full ramifications of what he's telling her.
"You've got to listen to me. Do you have any idea what you'd have to look forward to if you stayed here? Nine out of ten we'd both wind up in a bizzarro world, or maybe even a Hell dimension." Xander turns his head slightly toward Spike. "Isn't that true, Spike?"
Spike drips some blood from his finger onto the talismans and chants their names before replying to Xander. "Buffy would insist."
"You're saying this only to make me go!" Cordelia wails, her grip on Xander becoming even tighter.
"I'm saying it because it's true. Inside both of us we know you belong with Angel. You're part of his work, the thing that keeps him going. If that carpet leaves, and you're not with him, you'll regret it."
"No!" Her eyes are shining wetly.
He remains firm and insistent. "Maybe not today, and maybe not tomorrow. But soon, and for the rest of your life."
Tears brim her eyes as Cordelia struggles to maintain her composure. "But what about us?" she asks, barely above a whisper.
They draw even closer toward each other, anguish in her eyes, tenderness in his. Their arms wrap each other up, expressing in simple physical touch thoughts and emotions that can be contained no longer. There are no words for the depth of the feelings they have for each other; they let their warm embrace do the communicating for them.
"Do I really have to continue the speech?" Xander whispers into her hair, the feel of her, the scent of her, nearly overpowering his resolve. He can barely stand anymore while at the same time she seems to regain some of her own composure, as if the nearness of him gives her the strength to go on.
She pulls back just a little, now able to look him in the eye, and they lean their heads forward, gently touching their foreheads against each other. "Yeah, you really do. It's a great speech, and the readers are kind of expecting it."
"Okay...for you, I'll do it." Xander sighs deeply. He takes another deep breath then resumes. "We'll always have Sunnydale. We'd lost it, until you came to Casablanca. We got it back last night."
She puts her finger to his chin, gently moves it up and across his face, feeling the familiar features beneath her touch. "And I said I would never leave you." She smiles sadly at him.
"And you never will! But I've got a job to do, too. Where I'm going you can't follow. What I've got to do you can't be any part of. There's a whole continent out there waiting for vegetable juice franchises that only I can supply. Cordy, I'm no good at being noble, but it doesn't take much to see that the problems of two people and a vamp don't amount to a hill of pearl onions in this crazy bizzaro world. Some day you'll understand that. Now... now..."
Suddenly she loses it again, tears streaming from her eyes. She's about to break down completely and practically collapses into him. He easily holds her up with one strong arm about her waist, gently grasping her chin with his free, raises her head so her eyes meet his.
"Here's looking at you, C," Xander says with the barest hint of a smile.
They gaze into each others eyes, the outpouring of love and affection continuing unabated as they separate and move apart.
Angel has started to return, and Xander slowly turns from her, going into the hanger to get the talismans from Spike. He dons a stoic, expressionless mask he keeps in his back pocket just for such occasions before he rejoins Angel and Cordelia. Her own expression has become indistinct, vague, as she stares into the empty distance.
"Everything is in order?" asks Angel warily, aware that something has been going on between Xander and Cordelia.
"All except one thing. There's something you should know before you leave," he says to Angel while looking at Cordelia.
Angel senses what's about to happen. "Xander, you don't need to say anything."
Xander turns his full attention to Angel. "I'm going to anyway, because it may make a difference to you later on. You said you knew about Cordelia and me."
"Yes."
"But you didn't know she was at my place last night when you were. She came for the talismans of transit. Isn't that true, Cordelia?"
"Yes," she reluctantly answers, still staring into the yawning nothingness.
"She tried everything to get them, and nothing worked. She did her best to convince me she was still in love with me, but that was all over long ago. For your sake, she pretended it wasn't, and I let her pretend."
"I understand," replies Angel who, in a moment of rare brilliant clarity, really does understand.
"Here they are." Xander hands Angel the talismans.
"Thank you, I appreciate it." Angel shakes his palm, jingling the tokens together, then looks directly at Xander. "You know, you're not such a putz after all, Xander."
"You're not so bad yourself, Deadboy. Make sure you get yourself a better wig when you get back to the States."
They share thin yet sincere smiles and shake hands firmly, a cold clammy hand in a warm dry one.
"And welcome back to the fight. This time I know our side will win."
Cordelia has been watching this exchange between former antagonists with the same dazed expression she had moments before, hardly believing what's about to happen to her.
The carpet is ready to leave, the dust busted out of it, the tassels all untangled. Cordelia looks longingly at Xander, but he returns only the expressionless stare. They then both look at Angel.
"Are you ready, Cordelia?" asks Angel, reaching to take her hand in his.
She blinks, shakes herself, then holds her head up high. "Yes, I'm ready." Turning back to Xander she says, "Goodbye, Xander. May the Almighty Twinkie bless you."
"You'd better hurry or you'll miss that carpet," Xander says as he struggles to retain control. Angel and Cordelia turn together toward the carpet. Xander watches their retreating backs as they walk deliberately away. Her back is unnaturally straight and stiff, her steps short and choppy.
She never looks back.
Xander raises his arm slightly in an attempted half-hearted wave. "Goodbye, Cordy," he whispers hoarsely in a bittersweet whisper that nobody hears. His arm falls back limply.
Spike can hardly believes what he's seeing, attention jumping between the retreating pair and Xander. "You son of a bitch! You stupid git! How can you let 'er go!?"
"Stay where you are, Spike!" commands Xander, ready to take out his despair on him in a senseless violent rage.
Spike's sense of flippant irreverent amusement, missing since his Shanshu, does a sudden and long awaited encore as he takes in the end of this whole vignette. "Well, I was right. You are a sentimental sap! A stupid, brain-dead son of a bitch, but a sap nevertheless."
Xander takes a moment to lead his emotions down to the deepest, darkest dungeons of his mind. "I don't know what you're talking about."
"What you just did for Angel. And that fairy-tale you invented to send Ms. Chase away with 'im. I know a little about women, mate. She went, but she knew you were lyin'."
Xander heaves a ragged, gusty sigh, shoulders rising and falling back down. He slams closed the mental dungeon door, shutting away that part of his life forever.
"You always were good at reading people, Spike. Anyway, thanks for helping me out."
"I suppose you know...zis isn't going to be pleasant for either of us. Especially you. I'll have to arrest you, of course."
Xander turns back to watch the carpet. "As soon as the carpet goes, Spike."
The carpet floats away into the dancing fingers of fog as Buffy's car comes screeching up to the hanger. She jumps out, yelling at Spike, "What is the meaning of that phone call?"
"Angel is on that carpet." Spike informs her, nodding his head in the direction of the departing carpet.
Buffy is dumbfounded, "Why do you stand here? Why don't you stop them?"
"Ask Xander." Spike now inclines his head in Xander's direction.
Buffy smokes a withering glare at him, then heads for the telephone.
Seeing Buffy's intent, Xander yells at her, pulls the gun from his pocket and shouts, "Get away from that phone!"
Buffy stops to look back at Xander and sees that he is armed.
"Don't interfere, Xander!"
"I was willing to shoot Spike, and I'm willing to shoot you!"
Buffy watches the faraway carpet in agony. She looks at the phone and darts toward it in desperation, grabbing the handset and begins to shout into it. "Hello?"
"Put that phone down!"
Buffy ignores him. "Get me the radio tower."
"Put it down!" he demands again.
Buffy pulls out a stake and flings it at him, but it misses as Xander spins about, dropping into a crouch. He whips the gun into line and fans the hammer. The first shot blows the handset cleanly out of her hands, his next shots plucking at it as it skitters away across the concrete. He stands and fires his last shot into the phone itself, destroying it utterly.
So shocked she is by Xander's Sundance Kid-worthy display of firearms dexterity that she falls unconscious. Really. I wouldn't kid about a thing like that.
The emotionless mask he was wearing has fallen to the ground. Xander calmly reaches into his coat pocket and pulls out a spare expressionless mask to hide behind, one he's had sitting on ice.
Another police car screams up, gendarmes jumping out. The carpet has turned onto the runway and is lining up for take off. The police hurry to Spike. The first one, Willow, salutes.
"Captain!"
"Buffy's been mugged," he declares. He looks at Xander, who returns his look with his cold emotionless mask. Spike pushes his tongue into his cheek as he considers his next move. He glances around, seeing the carpet about to leave, the supine body of Buffy, the beads of condensation on Xander's cold visage. He quirks his eyebrows and gives a small shake of his head as he reaches a decision.
"Round up the usual suspects."
"Yes, Captain!" Willow and another extra grab Buffy's body and hurry away, a light, happy spring in Willow's step as she sings to the sky, "It's over! It's over! I'm free at last! La la la la la!"
Spike goes in the hanger and grabs a bottle of vintage Slayer Army label holy water. "Well, Xander, you're not only a sap, but you've also become rather a White Knight, again."
"Maybe. It seemed like a good time to start over."
"I think perhaps you're right." Spike sees the label and dumps the bottle. He goes to stand over by Xander and they both watch the carpet undulate down the runway, gathering speed, its tassels fluttering in response to the magic ether invisibly streaming by. It takes off, quickly disappearing into the dark sky, finally gone.
They turn together and begin to walk slowly away from the hanger, heading into the increasingly dramatic curtains of fog.
"It might be a good idea for you to disappear from Casablanca for awhile. I hear there's this kitten poker game over in Brazzaville. I could be induced to arrange a passage."
"A talisman of transit?" asks Xander as he discards the mask, his normal good humor returning. "I could use a trip. But it doesn't make any difference about our bet. You owe me ten thousand points worth of cheap plastic toys."
"We can play with the zoo set during our trip."
"Our trip?" a surprised Xander asks, forehead furrowing in amusement.
"Uh huh," Spike agrees. Then he stops, shuddering as a wave of pain and pleasure tingles through his nervous system. Xander watches him curiously, and even with a little concern. It passes and Spike exults, "And check it, mate! I remember! Oi, I'm a real bloody English bloke again!! And I don't have that barmy French accent anymore!" He starts to dance about.
Xander smiles in response and claps Spike on the back as they both start together again, side by side, heading for the edge of the airport, leaving behind the perfectly good car they had arrived in.
"Spike, I think--"
A shadow emerges out of the fog in front of them.
Spike is the first to exclaim, "Hey! Waitaminute! You're in a coma! From back near the beginning!"
"I got better," Doyle answers with a twinkle in his eye, "again."
"Huh!," is all Xander says as shakes his head a little. "I thought it was just a one-time discount. How'd you do it this time?"
"Well, as they say--or should if they aren't already--a good Irishman is like a cat." Doyle winks at both Spike and Xander and regards them with amusement. "Say, would an ignorant Yank and an English pig care to hoist a pint or two with a dirty Mick?"
Spike, being the cheapskate he is, asks, "Ya buyin'?"
Doyle cocks his head to the side and considers for a moment before answering. "First round, yeah."
Xander and Spike share a look and shrug their shoulders in unison. "Yeah, sure, I'm up for it, mate!" Doyle turns with them as they all sensibly head back toward the waiting car.
"You know, guys," begins Xander, "I think this is the beginning of a beautiful friendship."
The End
Th-th-th-that's all, folks!
AN: To those who stuck it out to the bitter end, I thank you. I hope you enjoyed reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it.
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