My head spun with thought, a rarity in itself. My heart was still beating, my lungs were still going up and down. Not that thay defined if you were alive or not. And now Anya knew all about it. I had to constantly remind myself it wasn’t my fault. If I stopped, it would mean that it was. It would mean I had Anya beleive going to him would make the world fade away. It may have, but it didn’t make anything better. It didn’t make the world stay faded, didn’t make it any easier. If anything, it brought it crashing to her feet.
And the worst part is, there truly is no one I can blame. I bet Anya suggested it or at least played a mimimal part in the idea popping into the bastard’s head. I can’t blame Spike that means. I can’t say it was rape because that would be too easy. That would make the world a little brighter, but there is no bright here. There never was. When I left Anya at the alter in her gorgeus white dress, that made it the darkest hour of anyone’s life. I touched her, sure, but not the way I was supposed to. It was supposed to be the happiest day of my life, but now it kills me every second to think what I’ve done to her. And I keep coming back. I keep living and breathing and uselessy beating. Uselessy is the key word there.
And I can’t blame Anya. Never. And it’s not all her fault either. It’s not like Spike wasn’t game. After all, he was on top. Plus, Anya dosen’t know a lot about the sex stuff. Spike knows a little to much for comfort. And I can’t blame myself, even thought hat would have been simple. But blaming, that’s different from hating. I can hate Spike as much as I want without feeling bad. I can hate him so much, it kills him. I can hate him so much, it hurts Buffy because I just don’t care. I don’t even care. It’s Spike. And sleeping with evil, that’s wrong. I can’t even look at either of them, Buffy or Anya, without feeling sick. And Spike is just as cocky as ever. Just as conceded, just as “I’ll-rape-and-kill-your-kids” as ever.
But I know there is no way to fix this. I know nothing will make this go away or make me feel better. I know screaming and crying and throwing stuff definatly won’t help. I know the only think that might help numb the pain would be more acohal to inhale. But I didn’t want to numb it. I wanted something to be worth it. Something to happen because I was in pain. And there was only one thing that could come out of pain. One thing that would come out of me and make scence and take a lot of heartache of my shoulders.
Dust.
****
I kicked open the door to Spike’s crypt and founding him drinking out of a wine bottle on the tomb, staring at the wall with a strange entencity.
“Something interesting over there? Bitch?” I asked.
“Xander,” he said, not diverting attention from the wall.
“Yeah, me. Want to settle this?” I felt anger like a person, felt it talke over me, felt it make my blood run hot. But Spike, when he got mad, or horny, his blood was never hot. It would never be hot. And that was what scared me. His coldness. There was nothing there! There was nothing to feel, nothing to love. He was a walking corpse, no matter how attractive that dead body may be. And that was what made it wrong. More wrong than it was. He was just dead. He may do good, he may be able to walk and talk like a person, but he was dead.
“Settle what? It’s done.” He just kept staring and taking swigs from his bottle. He looked troubled, not that it really mattered. But I wasn’t evil. I was mad, hurt, and human, but I wasn’t evil, like him.
“Done? We haven’t even started. Is that the kind of man you are? Oh, wait, you aren’t even a man!”
“Xander, shut it. I don’t have anything to tell you, bloody poof. I just can’t, alright? I didn’t mean for that to happen. I didn’t go to Anya for that. I just wanted to... I was drunk, not that helps. Just go. I don’t want this. I know this isn’t what you want. I know it will help a little, but it won’t change what we did. Yeah, *we*. I didn’t just decide alone to go at it in the Magic Box. I couldn’t of. But believe me, if I could change that little fact, you think I wouldn’t?” He finally turned to me, his eyes red, tears streaks staining his high cheekbones, making indentations at his chin. He looked at me in a way that almost made my heart stop. He looked at me in a way that nearly got to me. If I hadn’t known better, I would have felt sorry for the guy. He looked at me the way he looked at me back when Buffy was resercted. When he said something was wrong with her. When he said he was out of the loop because Willow knew that might happen.
“You think I feel sorry for *you*? You think that makes what *you* did with my girlfriend is my fault? You think I’m here to listen to your excuses?” I yelled, running at him, stake out. He grabbed my wrist and threw me against the wall, his usual viloence loving smile not on his lips.
“Go, Xander. I don’t want to hurt you. And if you stay, I might actully let me kill you. But then I think I don’t want to go Hell forever. Even if I deserve it. Xander, I didn’t mean to hurt you. I didn’t mean for this to be anything. I’m brainless. But love is like that isn’t it? Please, just go before I do something more. If I do something, just know, I’m deeply sorry. I’m sorry, not that it changes anything. Not that it’ll bring Anya back into arms. I wasn’t trying to anything. I didn’t mean it. I don’t want you guys apart.”
“I know that you wanted this! You were trying to get back at Buffy because she felt like dirt! Just because she was replused by herself! Yeah, you love her! You love her so damn much, you made her feel like she should be in Hell! You made her feel like trash! And that’s what you do to the ones you love, huh?” I didn’t charge him again, but I stood and yelled at me.
“SHUT UP! Who are you to tell me about love? I didn’t leave her at the alter, she left me after she blew up my crypt! Yeah, I wasn’t the nicest boyfriend ever, but hey, she was the one that beat me up. Remember my black eye? Yeah, that was Buffy. I didn’t... I was hurt. I’m in love, Xander. I always will be in love, Xander. And if that hurts *you* or if more importantly that hurts *her*, I am truly sorry with my sould. Where ever that object might be. And if that means something, good. If it dosen’t, please, just go. You think just seeing you dosen’t hurt me inside? You think I’m twisted enough to be doing some kind of a happy dance? Yeah, I don’t like you all that much. But at least I’m not *trying* to make your life a living hell. At least I didn’t mean to tear you from your honey. You think you would have let me and Buffy be if she told you? Huh? As if.” Spike got off his tomba nd got inches away from my face. Normally menacing, in this case, not so much. If he didn’t have that Intivitive chip shoved in his brain, then menacing. But Spike, having Chips-a-hoy in a head, not so much.
“I don’t have to hear this.” I had nothing better to say. What he was saying, it was so true it hurt. It was painful to think maybe what he was saying *was*true. But it was much more painful to think what he was saying could be true. Buffy would never do those things. If I didn’t know she had, I would never have believed it possible. All those times, I told him to get lost, that he never had a chance with a girl like Buffy, with Buffy, she was going to him. She was lying to me.
“No, I think maybe you should hear this, X-Man. I think this is important. A poof like you shouldn’t be going of on me.” Spike tunred, leaving me to take gasps on the wall. What you would call the “kittenish look” was seriously a part of my daily expression. Spike seemed to be talking more to himself then to me, but he was getting scary. Like insane scary. And who was to blame for this? Him, but also Buffy was obviously tearing him apart inside.
“Who are you to say I’m bad? I’m the one that done you wrong? No, guess what Mr. Harris. I am *evil*. I think maybe you all forgot that.” Normally I would have interupted his mad rant to tell him I was like the only one that hadn’t, but the man was on a roll. “Yeah, evil. You can’t trust. You know if Riley and his parteners in crime hadn’t decided that they thought I was just to much of a threat to you Scoobs and do gooders, I would have you dead where you stand. But no, nothing *ever* goes well for Spikey, the dog. Karma my ass. And if Spike decides he rather be a bulldog than a lap dog, who are you to blame? I mean, you’re probably tired of taking orders from the super bitch from hell, too, right? But no, Buffy’s your *friend*. Xander the great poof would never hurt a friend. No, he would only make sure Spike isn’t happy. You think I’m so evil as to kill Buffy? It’s kind of like you and that Anya ditz. Come off it. You can hurt her as much as I could hurt Buffy. Wait a damn minute... I can hurt Buffy. As a matter of fact, I think I’ll go do that.” Spike turned as if to leave his crypt. And he walked. He walked toward the door. What the hell?
I stuck out an arm, caught his. He tunred to me, looking like he was... mad. Mad? How could he be mad? Uhh, I’m so confused.
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“What else can I do, Xander. Tell me, please, ‘cause I really want to know. What am I doing here? Why am I *still* here? Is this love? Does love hurt so much?” Spike looked at me like I knew the answers. Like I was his surprieor. For once in my life and probably his, I was the one that dominated over him. I wasn’t his lap dog.
“Spike...”
I let him go, but he threw his arms around me, sobs shaking his body. His dead body, I reminded myself. But his embrace, however gay that may sound, didn’t feel cold. It didn’t feel empty. It didn’t feel like I always supposed it would feel.
“Spike, buddy. I don’t know. I mean, I can’t really tell you what to do with all this... I think, maybe... We both need a little help. But come on, man. Get yourself together. You do remember who I am right? You do remember why I came over here in the first place? To beat you up? Right?” I wrapped my arms around him, layed my head on his shoulder, but I mean, it was weird. His tears, however freezing and weird they were, fell on my collar and sent shudders down my spine.
“Yeah. And you know what I am. You know why I stay here. To screw Buffy. But you’re still comforting me. You’re a good man, Xander. Just remember that next time I don’t feel like treating you descent, alright? Listen, this is bloody nasty. Can you let me go?”
I couldn’t surpress a laugh. I let him go, but kept my hands on his forearms.
“Spike, I’m sorry. I didn’t know... I mean...”
“Don’t strain yourself, puffter. I get it. But this, this never leaves the crypt.” His smile had a warmth I would have never thought possible. His eyes had a gleam to them, a love, I had never seen before. Not the gay love, but... love.
I shook my head. “You are a thing. You are *just* an evil thing.” But was he?
“You keep telling yourself that. Here, let’s get you home.” Spike put a hand on my back and it just, it was cold.
I couldn’t help it. I burst into tears, sobs actully. Like temper tanturm sobs. Gasps, spudders, no words could come out sobs. And Spike pulled me down to my knees and wrapped his arms around me again, letting me put my head against his chest. But the weird thing? No heartbeat. Again, a reminder he was dead. But he was holding me. He was holding *me*. This was *WAY* to confusing. *WAY,WAY, WAY* too confusing.
“Shh. Xander. Shh. It’s okay. Yeah, I’m evil. Yeah, I’m evil and rotten to the core. If that makes you feel better, I’m bad to the bone,” he soothed.
“It-dosen’t-help,” I sputtered.
“Okay, new approach. I may be an evil, undead creature. I should have died a hundred years ago, but yet here I am. And everyone is here for a *good* reason. And you and your witch bitch and the Key and the Slayer, you guys are my reason. I’m evil, sure, or at least I used to be. I’ve done wrong, I know it and I’m willing to pay for it. But I’m nearly human. I’m flawed. I have to... sometimes I make mistakes, mistakes worse than yours, Mr. Leaver at the Alter Sap, but I still am trying. I *will* mess up and it’ll make you like this again. Or worse. Because I... I just... I just can’t let myself be good, sometimes. The demon, it dosen’t like that. But a vampire is more than a demon. A vampire was once a man. And that man, he loves Buffy and her little damn Scoobies. And that means you, Xander.”
I squeezed him harder. If he needed breath, it would be impaired. For at least right now, it didn’t matter that I hated his guts to peices. It didn’t matter he had known Anya in the bibilical scence of the word. It just didn’t matter. If what he was sayign was true, or at least close to the truth, then it had no reason to matter.
“Is that true?” I asked, wiping my eyes with my hand. Spike pulled a tissue out from a box on his table. I took it much less than graciously.
“If I said it wasn’t, I’d be lying to you. But you have to know, I still don’t have everything,” he offered.
“Yeah, like a soul.”
“Yeah. LIke a soul. But does that really matter? I mean, Angelus, the puffter...”
“What’s with the puffter stuff? Everyone but you is a puffter or a bitch.”
“That’s not my fault. Anyway, back to Angelus and his pesky soul. Is it really all that good for me to have one? I’ll keep the chip. If that’s what Buffy wants, I’ll keep it. That helps more than a soul I could go and loose. I mean, Angelus has done that with our little Buffy before, who’s to say I won’t? And anyway, I seem to remember Angelus tring to kill our old chum Wesley, even with his soul, so who’s to say I won’t kill one of you when I have mine? Like you were trying to kill me.”
Dawing relization. Excuse the pun. He was right. People with souls, *still* kill. People who have souls and have had them, still kill. But Spike, if he got rid of the chip, would I even be sitting here?
“Spike, I get that, but what if, what if you ever got that chip out? Would I even still be alive?”
“I reckon you would. I don’t think I could kill a man who saw me cry. Or maybe that’s all the more reason to kill you.”
I couldn’t help, but luagh. Spike had that affect on people when he wanted it. Or when he didn’t.
“Okay, I can see this isn’t a good subject.”
“No, that’s not it. It’s just... It’s just I don’t know the answer...”
“Oh...”
“Yeah, but Xander, ask me what you want to know now, or else, there might never be civil answers to them ever again.”
“Was this supposed to happen? I mean, was this... is this like...”
“It never leaves the crypt. We’re still mortal enemies. Let them all think I’d suck you all drier than the Sahara. Let ‘em think that and then... Then you’ll know I’m better. You’ll know something they don’t. Plus, they might suspicious with the snuggles,” he laughed.
I immediatly relased my arms from around him. “Right, snuggles a big no-no, check.” He laughed and go up off his knees. He offered a hand to help me get off the ground, but I just got up myself. “Bye, Undead Un-American.”
“Bye, Ex-X-Man.”
Hmm...
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