Shacking Up
By
EntreNous

**************

Part 32: Friends and Lovers

"So how did the moving in party go at the new homestead?" Xander asked as he poured Buffy another cup of coffee.

"Well, Nathan and Oz and Willow already had the furniture in, so it was mostly boxes," Buffy said. "But heavy! You should be glad that you got out of that one in exchange for patrolling. Want to guess how many boxes of books Willow had?"

"I'd put good money on bunches of boxes," Xander said, putting another teaspoon of sugar into his coffee and stirring.

"You'd win big time," Buffy affirmed. She reached across him toward the plate of brownies that she’d brought, and waved one in his direction. "But you already won, what with the not-moving."

"Well, I couldn't really get out of that round of on-site meetings. Some of us are working stiffs, Buff," Xander pointed out.

"Yeah. Some of us," Buffy said with a pointed look at Spike, who had just stumbled into the living area, hair tousled, wearing flannel pajama bottoms and a t-shirt of Xander's that was too big for him.

Spike curled his lip at her in a half-sneer, but Buffy just rolled her eyes as he leaned over Xander to bury his nose in his hair and then kiss the top of his head.

"You okay, though, finding housing on your own?" Xander asked. He absently pulled Spike towards him in a brief squeeze, and then grinned as he watched him wander over to gaze at the coffee pot with a confused look on his face.

She shrugged and bit off another corner of her brownie. "I guess. It’s not really a problem right now, since I'm going to be at home for the summer in a month anyway. And next fall I'll just start over in the dorms with a shiny new single."

"Think they'll put anyone else in your double for the rest of this semester?" Xander asked.

"Nah. I'm totally playing up that burned-down-the-gym and blew-up-the-high-school angle to work that psycho single option. And oh, don't forget -- my first roommate disappeared without a trace. And who's a better suspect than me?" she noted brightly. "Just let 'em try to move anyone else in, and I'll be ready with the full fake freak show."

"Fake, eh?" Spike asked as he leaned on the counter. His low, menacing tone was only slightly marred by the yawn that overtook him at that moment.

Buffy waved her hand in the air as if Spike were an annoying fly buzzing about her head. "So no roommates for me either this semester or next year. And I figure, without roommate distractions I can totally plot to reverse my current boyfriend-less status."

"But you haven't been hunting down boys for your nefarious Amazonian male-domination games before this because . . .?" Xander asked.

"Because I've been way busy helping out you and Willow with your love lives," Buffy explained impatiently. "First I was trying to keep you and Spike apart, and then I was working to get you together. And then, just when I got the two of you nice and settled and Davy out of the way, the whole Nathan and Willow and Oz thing went crazy haywire. Took me a while to make sure that would work out, and believe you me, those three can be a handful when they want to be. You saw how long it took them to move in together."

Spike and Xander exchanged befuddled looks. "Got to tell you, Buffy, didn't realize how much you'd been working behind the scenes there," Xander offered.

"Oh, I've spent a lot of time and energy on other people's relationships this year. But it was worth it," Buffy answered with a weary sigh. "But now that none of my friends are wigging out about that kind of stuff, I'm ready to move in on one or two of the many guys at UC Sunnydale who are not only hot and smart, but sensitive, funny, and warm."

Xander gestured at her with his mug, sloshing some of the coffee on the table. "That's the spirit. With all those good pickings, you're bound to meet someone great."

"Can't be that good of an assortment," Spike said, joining them at the table with his own cup brimming with coffee. "Only so many desirable Romeos out in the world to start with. Can't imagine they'd all end up serendipitously in proximity to you."

Xander cleared his throat. "Well . . . uh . . . what Spike means, is --"

Spike sipped at his coffee contemplatively. "Besides, Willow's already gone and landed herself two of them. So the number's gone down right there." Xander shot him a look as Buffy's eyes widened slightly.

But Spike continued, blithely unaware of Xander's foot winding up and preparing to kick him hard. "Ought to teach you a lesson, that. Better to spend your time keeping your nose out of your friends' tiffs and troubles, and spend those perky obsessive qualities on the mess you've made of your own love life."

"Oh man," Xander said under his breath as Buffy's face crumpled. Even Spike looked vaguely pained, though that could well have been from the toe of Xander's boot jamming into his shin.

There was a brief, tense pause, and then:

"I'm never going to meet anyone!" Buffy wailed. "Angel left because he said I'd be better off, but since then, I only meet guys who are almost all complete jerks. Or, if they're not total lost causes, they're only interested in other guys! And it's so incredibly unfair that Willow has two really great boyfriends who aren't jerks and aren't completely gay and I'm going to be all alone for the rest of my life!"

"Hey, hey, hey," Xander said quickly, scrambling out of his seat and pulling Buffy up out of her chair into a tight hug. "It's not going to be like that, okay? Maybe it won't be the easiest thing ever, finding someone you like, and maybe it'll take a while, but there's no way that you're doomed to a life alone. You'll meet someone, they'll be great, you'll be great, and you'll both be happy."

"Who'd want to be with me?" Buffy snuffled against Xander's chest.

"Going to be hard to find someone willing to put up with the odd hours you keep," Spike observed, stopping when Xander turned an icy glare in his direction.

"Lots of people," Xander said emphatically. "Even Spike thinks so. Right, Spike?" He nodded at Spike, clearly indicating that now was the time to step into the fray and mend some of the drama he'd helped to set in motion.

"Sure, you'll be all right," Spike said reluctantly. Buffy's breath hitched in a sob. Xander curled his fingers towards him, gesturing for more. "You're . . . not bad looking," Spike continued. "Most of the time. And you're . . . nice." He grimaced as the last word left his mouth. Luckily only Xander could see the face that he made because Buffy's nose was still pressed against Xander's chest.

"And you're Buffy," Xander said, pulling back and tipping her chin up with his finger, making her meet his gaze. "You're great. It'll all work out."

"Promise?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

"Absolutely," Xander assured her, giving her one last hug.

Buffy sniffled and then stepped back, brushing out the wrinkles in her shirt and smoothing her hair self-consciously. "Thanks, Xander. Sorry for getting all upset just now."

"I think you're due the occasional freak-out," Xander said gravely.

"Especially considering you might need to put on your fake freak show to stay roommate-free," Spike pointed out.

Xander looked askance at him but Buffy just laughed out loud. "That's right," she said lightly, wiping her eyes. "Got to keep in practice, scare those potential roomies away."

"Anything I can do to help, just say the word," Xander said sympathetically. "Oh, more on the guy-finding mission, though -- I don't know how great I'd be at scaring off potential roommates."

Buffy smiled and slipped on her jacket. "Thanks, seriously," she said, reaching out and giving his arm a squeeze. "I just may take you up on that."

She left shortly after that, and Xander drained the last of his coffee, looking at the door every so often. Spike wandered out of the room, and his movements in the bedroom and then in the spare room approached ruckus-level, but Xander didn't really register it, still lost in thought.

"So what are we going to do about Buffy?" Xander asked when Spike charged back into the room, fully awake but still in his pajamas.

"Don't care," Spike said shortly. He disappeared, though the noise he made rummaging around in the cabinets in the bathroom and tossing boxes of band-aids, aspirin, and razors on the floor gave away his location easily enough.

"She just seemed so down," Xander called after him.

"Yeah, well. Strong woman, modern times, and all that. Take care of herself, I imagine." Spike reemerged and headed for the hall closet. "Now then . . ." he muttered.

Xander stood and walked over to the closet, leaning against the frame while Spike rooted around in search of something. "I know, she can take care of herself, but . . . I don't like that she's unhappy."

"Don't, do you?" Spike asked noncommittally. He cursed when a box of odds and ends tumbled down and spilled its contents on the floor.

"Spike? It makes me sad that she's upset," Xander said meaningfully.

Spike froze.

"You're sad?" he asked anxiously. "Because she is?" He dropped the fistful of hangers he held onto the floor with a clatter and pulled Xander to him.

After a few minutes of Spike petting and cooing at him, Xander pulled back and laughed. "This is nice and all . . . but not really targeting the problem at hand."

"Right," Spike nodded emphatically, regaining his take-charge attitude. He reached around Xander to grab a canvas bag from the floor, and then examined its contents with a keen eye. "Not in here either."

"Spike, you know how much I want things to be cool for my friends . . . They tried to help so much when things were weird with us . . . "

"Not that it did us a great deal of good," Spike observed.

"And I felt like I was getting through to you, with the dinner party, and the group patrols, just how much that it's important to me," Xander continued, trying not to raising his voice. "Like now with Buffy -- it’s not just having her around, but making sure that she . . . how she . . ." he trailed off in confusion and blinked at Spike. "What's not in there either?"

"The scented oil," Spike announced. He scowled a little and stalked towards the kitchen, pulling open the doors of the cabinet below the sink and nudging the contents with his foot.

"What are you talking about?" Xander asked him impatiently.

"What are you talking about?" Spike asked back over his shoulder.

"Buffy."

"Bath."

They looked disapprovingly at one another for a few moments. Xander's face was the first to clear.

"Bath?" he asked happily. He disappeared briefly into the bedroom and came out bearing a large new bottle of the bath oil that Spike favored.

"Oh, lovely," Spike purred to the bottle of oil, promptly turning on his heel and stomping towards the bathroom.

"Hey," Xander called after him with some amusement, watching Spike fondle the container lovingly. "You, uh, need some help in there? Because I feel kind of . . . dirty myself, and . . . mmph," he finished in a rush of air as Spike hustled him into the bathroom and drew his head down for a passionate kiss.

"Talk about the slayer later, won't we?" Spike murmured.

"Uh . . . yeah," Xander managed as Spike quickly divested him of his button-down shirt and pulled his t-shirt over his head. "Later. Because . . . oh god . . . "

**~*~** The End **~*~**