The door to the apartment is ajar, and Spike pushes it open cautiously.
He crosses the threshold and his eyes easily adjust to the darkness. There are no lights on in the whole apartment, but the heavy blackout curtains have all been ripped down, and the streetlights provide plenty of illumination.
Spike slowly makes his way to the slumped form on the couch. He stands in front of Xander, taking in the powerful smell of alcohol permeating the room and the human especially.
"Xander?" Spike prompts quietly. He knows his lover hasn't passed out because the dark head jerks just a little at the sound of his voice, but Xander doesn't reply.
"Xander," Spike sighs, sitting lightly on the couch and running a hand through matted black hair. The youth doesn't stir. He's slumped over, naked save for his boxers, and a cool sweat coats his skin. This is bad; Spike knows it, and it's all his fault. Spike knows that too.
The vampire can easily recall his deal with Xander, months old now, and never before violated.
The youth had been drinking so much that Spike began to worry. He had never been particularly fond of Xander, in fact, he hated the sneering mortal. But this young man had become Spike's one tether to reality and life, and seeing Xander falling apart forced Spike into action.
Tending to Xander's budding alcoholism had been Spike's first real purpose in life since the restoration of his soul. The vampire fought, soothed, cajoled, nagged, and finally just demanded that Xander stop drinking. They made a deal: neither would drink when he was upset. Or as Xander put it, "We'll only drink when we don't really need to."
The whole ordeal made Spike truly see Xander, see his beauty and his frailty and his strength. See how precious the mortal was.
The vampire still remembers clearly the day he finally did something about his growing crush.
No conscious decision had been made; Spike just swooped in for a kiss when Xander turned his head to the vampire. The grin on those soft lips immediately faded. Panicking, Spike began to pull away until he felt Xander's tongue coyly dart against his lips and away again. At that moment the ache of all Spike's former life disappeared, only to be replaced by a worse, but more delicious pain.
That first kiss took place on Xander's cream-colored couch where the two sit now.
Spike strokes Xander's hair sadly, not knowing what to say.
At last, Xander's raw and broken voice croaks out tentatively, "Spike?"
"I'm here, luv." The vampire just wants to wrap his arms around his boy, but is afraid. So he scoots closer and waits for Xander to reprimand him for breaking his promise.
"You're not... dead?" Xander asks in a tiny, childlike voice.
Spike knows this is not the appropriate time for the usual response to a question like that, so he shrugs frankly and replies, "Not dead, pet; right here."
And to Spike's surprise and utter horror, Xander says the words that had been right on the tip of the vampire's tongue. "God, Spike, I'm sorry," Xander sobs, turning into his boyfriend and wrapping liquor weakened arms around him. "I'm sorry. I'm so fucking sorry..."
"Shh. Shush, luv, don't cry. No need... no need to be... you don't have to be sorry." And Spike wishes he had killed himself, wishes he could do it now, because Xander has been so so strong these last months, and now he's crying. Loud and hard, though he's got his face buried in Spike's shoulder to muffle the noise.
Spike feels so helpless, so *useless* right now, and he can't even imagine knowing the right thing to do here. "Xander," he pleads, "don't cry. Please don't cry? I'm sorry. I... I shouldn't have gone, I..."
Spike is cut off when Xander raises his wet face and kisses the vampire hard on the lips; nothing of their usual playfulness or gentleness here. The salt scent of the youth's tears is only made worse by the liquor on his breath, and this is too much a replay of Spike's morning. The vampire shoves Xander away roughly, rising abruptly from the couch and pacing across the darkened living room.
Spike makes a few laps around the couch, not knowing what to do, but steadfastly not looking at his boyfriend, not seeing the look of hurt he knows Xander will be wearing.
The youth stands slowly, shaking a little, but Spike guesses that's just tension and alcohol. Xander wobbles over to the kitchen area, flipping on the light as he goes. He keeps his back turned to Spike as he gulps the contents of an entire water bottle.
"So you're leaving now?" Xander's voice is harsher than he means it to be, and Spike doesn't hear the question mark at the end of the sentence.
The vampire tries to swallow, he really does, but he just can't. Can't move or speak or breathe. He just stands in the middle of the living room, staring at Xander's bare back. So his boy wants him gone. Of course he does. Who would want a weak, sniveling, promise-breaking, vampire lover anyway? Gathering his strength-- Spike's had some practice at being left these last few years, and he really is getting better at it-- Spike nods at Xander's back and turns away. Walks to the door in measured steps, not going slowly, but barely able to force heavy feet to move.
Xander flinches when he hears the soft click of the front door, but suddenly there's the rage.
It's the usual next step in any Harris evening of drunkenness: 1) buy extra liquor from the lovely mart on the corner that delivers 2) drink copious amounts 3) sob uncontrollably and inappropriately 4) go into a blinding rage and take it out on someone you love.
Xander storms across the apartment, throwing open the door, intent on finding Spike and beating the vampire into the ground.
But for the second night in a row, Spike's standing right outside the door.
The vampire's leaning against the opposite wall, hands clutching his knees, head bowed. When he looks up at Xander, the harsh fluorescent light of the hallway mercilessly reveals his red, watery eyes.
The human stops in his doorway, staring at his boyfriend. Xander's mouth twists in pain, but Spike doesn't move, doesn't speak, just watches the youth, wondering what he's going to do.
"Why?" Xander asks, which is apparently very funny because Spike starts laughing. The tears that had been threatening to fall flow freely now as the vampire doubles up in pained laughter.
Down the hall, old Mr. Weatherly's door opens and the bald-headed man peers out, scowling at the two half-dressed men in the corridor. Xander shoots him a dirty look, and the man retreats, no doubt to call the super.
"Spike!" Xander says harshly, and the vampire shakes himself, stands up straight, and wipes self-consciously at his eyes.
"Get inside, Spike," Xander sighs wearily.
Spike obeys, but the pure surrealism and repetitiousness of this day is starting to wear on him. He says petulantly, "You want me to go, you want me to stay. Ask me to dance a bloody jig and I'll hop up on the counter for you..."
Xander listens as Spike grumbles. The young man shakes his head angrily, trying not to lose his temper, but he's still very very close to the edge of his patience. "I never wanted you to go, Spike. I *asked* you to stay."
Spike snorts, leaning against the kitchen counter. "Right. You told me to get out, I got. You want me back in, here I am. Xander-"
"I didn't tell you to get out," Xander blurts. "I thought you were leaving. I mean, after last night, why would you want to stay, and-"
He's interrupted when Spike utilizes his vampire speed, darting forward. Xander tenses as Spike kisses him, cupping his damp face lightly. Before the human even has time to absorb this abrupt change in the vampire's mood, Spike pulls back, but not very far. He rests his forehead against Xander's, whispering, "Never leave you, Xander. *Never*. Nothing wrong with last night, maybe we have to try again, but," he smirks gently, "don't really think that's a problem."
This is so nice, good, perfect, and Xander is loathe to end it, but... "You did leave me. You leave me every day." He steps out of their loose embrace, watching for Spike's reaction.
The vampire sighs tiredly, running a hand through rumpled hair. "I know," he admits. "I'm just a stupid, pathetic wanker..." Spike's jaw clenches as he swallows the rest of that rant. He meets Xander's eyes directly and swears, "I won't do it again. Ever."
Xander snorts, "You couldn't even not do it for *one day*, Spike. Don't make promises to me you can't keep."
The vampire looks away; there's nothing he can say to that. He knows he won't ever hurt Xander that way again, but he has no proof besides the future, and if Xander won't allow him that...
"Why *are* you here, Spike?" Xander's voice has softened, but Spike still misinterprets. The human sees the hurt on his lover's face though, and quickly adds, "I mean, why aren't you dead? Your letter..."
Spike smirks at his own tendency toward melodrama, wishing he'd never written that stupid thing. "I wanted to. I... well... ran into the slayer. We had a few words, talked it out." He shrugs. "I'm really not going to do it again, Xander. I know you don't believe me, but I swear it's true."
The problem is Xander does believe him. The boxer-clad man steps back again, taking in Spike's appearance for the first time.
The vampire's hair is badly rumpled, his shirt torn open, and the last remnants of rapidly healing scratch marks run over his nipples and across his pecs.
"You're back with Buffy," Xander says softly. He takes another dazed step back, hitting the wall and leaning into it for support.
And this is okay, really it is. Xander has tried so hard to heal Spike, to stop the vampire's suicidal urges, with no success. One day with Buffy and Spike's all better. That's fine. That's great, in fact. Xander's glad Spike's got someone who can take care of him right, someone he loves.
Spike curses under his breath and strides over to Xander, tilting the youth's face up. "No, idiot, I'm not back with Buffy. We just talked, made our peace, like. I'm back with *you*." Spike takes a deep breath. "For good if you'll have me."
Xander knows there was more to their meeting than Spike is telling, but the vulnerability, the want and fear and... affection on the vampire's face is all too compelling. Xander leans in and kisses Spike.
The vampire groans lowly; this is how they should always kiss, deep and gentle and passionate. These kisses they share have always conveyed more than either man was ever able to say.
"You're not with Buffy?" Xander asks when he draws away, but he doesn't relinquish his embrace of his vampire.
"No, not with Buffy," Spike answers, leaning in for another kiss.
"You're not leaving me?" Xander evades Spike.
"Not going anywhere. Least, not without you."
"You're not gonna try and kill yourself again in the morning?"
"No more, luv, I swear it."
"Good, 'cause I'll fucking stake you if you ever-"
Spike gives up on the whole conversation, pulling Xander tightly against him as he kisses the youth insistently. They'll say everything here, in this way, and the future, however unpleasant, will wait.