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Fandom: BtVS |
![[info]](http://www.spanderfiles.net/communitygif.gif){kind=small}
The Hidden, Revealed
by
Spikedluv
Part One A
“This is very important, Buffy.” Giles’ voice was more urgent than normal. “You need to remember.”
“I know, Giles, I’m sorry,” Buffy replied. “I’m trying.”
“We need to know what night the ritual is going to take place, otherwise we’ll be forced to stake out the Hellmouth every night until it occurs,” Giles mused, taking his glasses off and rubbing the bridge of his nose tiredly.
“I’m not bloody well staking out the Hellmouth,” Spike muttered, rolling his eyes. “You know, slayer, you’re not really blonde, you should be able to . . . .”
“Shut up, Spike.” Xander whacked Spike upside the back of the head as he walked past him.
“Watch it, git,” Spike snarled.
“Or what?” Xander taunted the chipped vampire. “You’ll bite me?”
Spike’s eyes flashed yellow. “I get this chip out . . . .”
“Hey, why don’t we do a spell?” Willow chirped, interrupting Spike’s threat. Spike gave her a dirty look for ignoring him, which was also ignored.
“What k-kind of spell?” Tara asked, wringing her hands.
“A memory boosting kind of spell, to help Buffy remember when the ritual is going to take place,” Willow said, bouncing with excitement. “I mean, the information’s in there, we just need a super-duper dose of magical ginkgo biloba.”
“Oh, uh, I don’t know about that, Will,” Buffy said. “I remember the last time you did a spell.” Buffy glanced over at Spike with trepidation.
“That was different,” Willow huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. “I didn’t know the spell had worked when I made those wishes. Besides, both Giles and Tara are here. They can look the spell over, and help me with it, so no chance that it’ll go all . . . wonky. Besides, I’ve done plenty of other spells since then,” she pouted.
“But not on me,” Buffy muttered.
Tara made soothing noises and patted Willow’s back.
“Did you have a specific spell in mind, Willow?” Giles slipped his glasses back on.
“Giles!” Buffy objected.
“I’m sorry, Buffy,” Giles said without looking at her. “Trust me when I say I understand how you feel, but we really need this information, and it is locked somewhere in that head of yours,” he said distractedly, as he took the spell book Willow handed him and began to peruse the memory spell she’d chosen. “Hmm, this actually looks like it might work,” he said.
“Don’t sound so surprised!” Willow complained.
“Yeah!” Buffy added her two cents.
Giles handed the book off to Tara so that she could also check over the spell. “I believe I even have all the necessary ingredients here at the shop.” He moved off to check the shelves, ignoring Buffy’s continued sputters of protest.
While Tara read the spell, Willow helped Giles gather the necessary ingredients. Within minutes, they were ready to perform the spell. Willow and a reluctant Buffy sat cross-legged inside a chalked circle, lit candles surrounding them and a pouch of herbs that Giles had mixed for the incantation in Willow’s hand. The others stood closely around the circle to watch, except for Spike, who didn’t want to chance kissing the slayer again.
Willow began to speak the short spell.
“The eye cannot see,
What the mind holds deep;
Reveal what is hidden,
The secrets it keeps.”
As she spoke, Willow drew a handful of herbs out of the pouch and sprinkled them over Buffy. No one noticed that Xander had leaned forward and breached the sacred circle, or that some of the herbs Willow flung landed on him.
Willow thanked the God and Goddess, then put out the candles, ending the ceremony.
“Well?” Giles asked. “Did it work?”
Buffy looked up, eyes wide with horror. “Tonight!” she said. “The ritual takes place tonight.”
“Oh, bloody hell,” Spike swore.
~*~*~*~*~
The training room erupted in chaos, with everyone shouting and running around in circles. Giles stuck his fingers in his mouth and let out a shrill whistle that halted everyone in their tracks. “Thank you!” he said, when silence reigned once again. “Now, we need to be a bit more organized.” He turned to Buffy. “What time is the ritual supposed to start?” he asked.
“Midnight,” Buffy responded immediately. “You know, it’s a real turn-on when you take charge like that,” she added. Everyone turned to stare at her. “What?” she asked. “Oh, please, don’t tell me you don’t agree . . . Willow!” she turned to the girl she knew had a crush on Giles during high school.
“Traitor,” Willow hissed at her best friend. “It is kinda sexy,” she admitted, when Giles caught her eyes. She glanced at her girlfriend. “Don’t you think so?”
“W-well . . . ,” Tara stammered.
“I do,”Anya heartily agreed.
“Ahn!” Xander was broken out of his stunned silence by Anya’s proclamation.
“Well, it is,” Anya said. “Kinda like how you get all take-charge-y when we play . . . .”
“Never mind,” Xander said, quickly covering Anya’s mouth with his hand.
“Can we get back to the ritual, now?” Giles asked sarcastically, slightly embarrassed.
“Please,” Spike murmured.
“Sure, Giles,” Buffy replied.
“Sorry, G-man,” Xander said.
“Now,” he started again. “We’ll need weapons. You two.” He pointed to Willow and Tara. “Gather the ingredients you’ll require for spells. The rest of you, choose your weapons from the trunk.”
Buffy was there first, snagging a broadsword; Spike took an axe; Anya chose the baseball bat she was becoming quite proficient with; and Xander grabbed a short sword. Giles reached for his axe, a bit smaller than the one Spike carried, and said, “Don’t forget your stakes.” Everyone scrambled to fill their pockets with stakes.
When they were all ready, they headed for the Hellmouth, which lay beneath the ruins of the old Sunnydale High School. They snuck into the school and the old library without being seen, and looked down into the chasm created when they’d blown up the school. A group of thirteen demons wearing flowing black robes with voluminous hoods formed a circle, and chanting filled the air.
“The ritual,” Buffy hissed worriedly.
“Yes, it looks like they’ve started early,” Giles replied evenly. “Perhaps now would be a good time to stop them,” he suggested.
“Gee, ya think?” Spike asked sarcastically, and then jumped down into the rent in the floor without waiting for anyone else.
“Hey! Wait for me!” Buffy yelled. “You can’t have all the fun.”
Giles shook his head as Buffy also jumped down into the pit.
“You don’t expect me to do that, do you?” Xander asked.
“No, Xander,” Giles assured him. “I think we lesser humans should climb down a little more carefully. You girls stay up here out of the fighting and, uh, do your spells.”
Giles, Xander, and Anya climbed down into the hole where Buffy and Spike were already fighting. The demons were a little pissed that their ritual had been interrupted. One of the demons broke off its attack on Spike and Buffy, and rushed the three newcomers. Xander met it head on. When the demon was too close to change its course, Xander squatted, and grabbed the demon around its legs. In a fluid motion, he stood and tossed the demon over his head, hearing it hit the wall with a satisfying ‘crunch!’
“Holy moly,” Xander thought he heard Willow say, but was too caught up in staying alive to check. He waded further into the fight, taking one demon with a stab through the heart with the short sword he carried, and another with a punch to the face followed by a series of kicks to the ribs and a beheading.
He looked around and saw that, between their fighting, and Willow and Tara’s spells, the number of demons had been halved. He came back to the fight just in time to see another demon charging towards him. Xander hesitated, and then turned and ran away from the demon, which gave a mighty roar and chased him. When he reached the wall, Xander jumped up and placed one foot on the rock face. Using his momentum, he pushed off the wall and back towards the demon. He kicked out, hitting the demon in the head and knocking it to the floor, where Giles finished it off.
Xander landed lightly in a crouch, and quickly looked up. Fewer demons still, but two of those remaining had backed Spike into a crevice where he was unable to swing his axe. One of the demons was struggling with Spike’s axe hand, while the other looked like it was going to choke Spike until his head popped off. Xander stood and ran towards them.
“Nooooo!” he screamed, in an attempt to distract the demons holding Spike. Both of them turned, and Xander barreled into the one holding Spike’s wrist. He slammed it into the unyielding rock wall, causing it to relinquish its hold on Spike, and then stabbed it with his short sword. Spike, who was now able to move out of the tight spot he’d been trapped in, and whose axe hand had been freed, shoved the head of the axe into the stomach of the demon still choking him, knocking the air out of it. The demon doubled over, gasping for air, and Spike decapitated it with one swing.
“You all right?” Xander asked frantically, looking Spike over.
“Uh, yeah,” Spike said, confused. “Thanks.”
“No problem,” Xander said, and then turned to look around them. All of the demons were dead, and all of his friends were staring at him. “What?” he asked, with a shrug.
“You fought,” Buffy said.
“I always fight,” Xander replied, a little annoyed.
“I think she means, you fought well,” Giles said, though not unkindly.
Xander wanted to take offense at that, but knew that normally he didn’t fight well.
“And you s-saved Spike,” Tara added.
“Hey, now!” Spike said, not wanting it to get around that the puny human had saved his bum. “I’d’ve taken ‘em.”
“I didn’t do anything special,” Xander said, trying to shrug it off. He had no idea what had just happened, how he’d been able to fight . . . and fight well. Nor did he know what made him rush to Spike’s rescue.
“Xander!” Willow chastised his dissembling. “You threw that demon over your head!”
“A-and you stabbed the one,” Tara offered.
“And punched and kicked the other,” Anya added.
“And you did that jump-thing up on the wall,” Giles said with wonder.
“And you saved Spike!” Buffy said in disbelief.
“Hey!” Spike cried.
~*~*~*~*~
Without replying, Xander clambered up the stone wall. He laid on his stomach and extended his hand to help pull Anya up. His friends watched silently as he practically hoisted her up unassisted. Anya squealed, and then kissed Xander when she reached the top and they were both standing. The trip back to the Magic Box was made in stunned silence.
When Xander and Anya finally got inside their apartment, she immediately fell on him, ravenous with desire. She pushed him back against the recently closed door and kissed him, hard and heated, her hands squeezing his shoulders, and then moving down his body. Xander, having spent the entire short drive home listening to Anya tell him how turned-on she’d become watching him fight, and exactly what she was going to do with him when they got home - in wonderfully explicit detail - was very receptive to her vigorous attentions.
Anya pulled his shirt out of his pants and splayed her hands over his stomach, kneading his muscles, teasingly slipping her thumbs beneath his waistband as she continued to kiss him. Xander groaned and cupped her ass, squeezed her buttocks as his prick reacted to her touch much the same way it had reacted to her words earlier. She unbuttoned and unzipped his pants, then pushed them down his legs.
Pulling out of his hands, Anya went to her knees. She took him in her hands, wrapping the fingers of one hand around the shaft and running her thumb over the moist tip as she reached between his legs and gently cupped and squeezed his balls. Xander groaned, his legs shaking as he watched her take him into her mouth. He threw his head back against the door and closed his eyes as she sucked him off.
Later that night, Xander lay awake in bed, Anya snoring softly beside him. There was no logical reason for him to be awake. After sex with Anya, especially hot and heavy sex like they’d had tonight, his body was always worn out. But he couldn’t shut down his mind, was afraid to close his eyes. Because every time he did, he pictured Spike. Instead of Anya. Spike on his knees, sucking him, moaning around him; Spike on his back, his legs drawn up as Xander thrust into him, begging him for more, and harder, and deeper.
~*~*~*~*~
Xander didn’t sleep much over the next week. He went from work, to research, to patrol, and then home with Anya. He spent the days wondering why he could suddenly fight; why his reflexes were faster, his instinct sharper, his senses more acute. Why, when he had sex with Anya, he pictured Spike’s face. He spent the nights fighting sleep, afraid what he would see when he closed his eyes.
Tonight’s patrol was especially difficult. Spike had spotted a couple of Fyarl demons at Willy’s bar, so they were searching for them to find out what brought them to town. Buffy took Willow and Tara with her, while Anya and Xander got paired with Spike. Despite his newfound agility and grace, Xander found himself awkward and clumsy around Spike. Until they found the Fyarl demons.
The pair of Fyarl demons seemed to appear from out of nowhere. Xander hadn’t seen them, nor sensed their presence. It was obvious that Spike, who looked just as surprised as he felt, hadn’t either.
“Are you the vampire known as Spike, William the Bloody?” one of the Fyarl asked, its voice deep and rumbly.
“Who’s askin’?” Spike responded, adopting a deceptively casual stance.
“You must come with us,” the other demon intoned.
“Uh, yeah, right,” Spike replied sarcastically. “I don’t think so, mate.”
“You do not have a choice,” the other spoke again. “We must not return without you.”
“Then you won’t be returning,” Xander broke in. He stepped forward, swinging the small axe he carried, not sure exactly where this protective feeling for Spike was coming from.
“Wait!” Spike yelled, but one of the demons stepped towards Xander and the fight was on.
Xander hacked and twirled and kicked, while Anya screamed and battered the demon with the bat. Spike took on the other demon, doing his best to beat it, while keeping it alive. His battle was against his own demon, which was raging with blood lust, as much as it was against the Fyarl.
After Xander and Anya killed their demon, they stood back and watched Spike. When it looked like the demon was getting the better of him, Xander joined the fight and planted the blade of his axe in the demon’s back. When the demon dropped dead to the ground, Spike turned his own demon on Xander.
“What in bloody hell do you think you were doing?” Spike growled around his fangs, amber eyes blazing.
“Saving your life!” Xander yelled back.
“Saving my life?” Spike asked in disbelief. “I don’t need you to save my life, human,” he snarled.
“Hey, don’t you yell at him!” Anya yelled at Spike.
“Then why didn’t you finish it off yourself?” Xander asked angrily.
“Because I wanted it alive, you moron,” Spike snapped.
“Bullshit!” Xander responded with a little less force, suddenly unsure. “Why would you want him alive?” he asked, subdued.
“To find out who sent them,” Spike explained slowly, as if he was talking to an idiot.
“Ohhh, God,” Xander moaned. He closed his eyes and covered his face with his hand. Christ, he’d really screwed up. What had he been thinking? That was the problem, he hadn’t been thinking. He’d seen a threat to Spike, and dealt with it. “Sorry,” he mumbled.
And he was, sorry that he’d screwed up, sorry that he couldn’t control this . . . whatever it was that had him thinking about Spike at inappropriate times, and rushing to his rescue, like he really needed Xander to rescue him.
“What’s that?” Spike asked in surprise.
“I said,” Xander said, lowering his hand and raising his head. “I’m sorry. Let’s just get back to the Magic Box,” he said, then took Anya’s hand in his and started walking back the way they’d come, not looking to see if Spike followed them, almost hoping that he wouldn’t.
That night, for the first time in their relationship, and despite Anya’s valiant attempts to make it otherwise, Xander was unable to perform. Regardless of Xander’s fear of closing his eyes, and his self-flagellation over his screw-up that night, he fell asleep. And dreamt of Spike. Though his waking thoughts of Spike usually consisted of the vampire naked and sweating beneath him, his dream was less, and yet so much more.
Spike smiled at him before kissing him tenderly, and then held his hand while they snuggled on the couch watching television; Xander woke with tears dried on his cheeks.
~*~*~*~*~
Before Xander left for work the next morning, he asked Anya to beg off research and patrol that night when she saw Giles at work. He knew she was hoping they’d have a romantic evening in, but he knew that they needed to talk. When he got home, Anya already had scented candles lit, and a bottle of cheap champagne cooling in a dishpan full of ice, in lieu of a proper ice bucket.
Xander gave her a sad kiss, and then took a shower. As the water washed the day’s dirt and sweat away, Xander beat himself up. He knew that no matter how he handled this, he was going to hurt Anya, but he couldn’t continue to live with this inside him. He needed to tell someone, and this affected Anya almost as much as it affected him.
Cleaned up and dressed in a pair of jeans, a little baggy because he didn’t have much of an appetite these days, Xander emerged into the living room. Anya was sitting on the couch, playing with the chain around her neck. “Is something wrong, Xander?” she asked, direct as always.
Xander sat on the couch and took one of her hands in both of his. He played with her fingers while he considered the best way to say what needed saying. “I think I know why I can fight,” he said, starting with the seemingly innocuous.
“Really?” Anya’s eyes sparkled with interest as she leaned towards him. “Why?”
“Remember that spell Willow did so Buffy would remember when the ritual was taking place?” he asked, without taking his eyes off her fingers.
“Yeah,” she replied, sounding a little confused.
“Do you remember the words of the spell?” Xander looked up at her. Anya shook her head ‘no’. “I looked them up,” he continued, and then quoted the spell to her.
“The eye cannot see,
What the mind holds deep;
Reveal what is hidden,
The secrets it keeps.”
“Why is that important, Xander?” Anya asked with a frown.
“Did I ever tell you about the time I was possessed by the spirit of a hyena back in high school?” Xander asked, with a twist of his lips.
“No.” She shook her head again. Xander told her about the hyena. “And you think...what exactly?” she asked when he was done.
“I think I can fight better now, because I . . . remember.” He motioned to his head. “I remember what it’s like to be a hyena. How to move . . . it’s just instinct now. And my senses are more . . . keen.”
“What senses?” Anya asked.
“Hearing, smell, sight . . . .”
“Does this have something to do with last night?” Anya asked.
“Yes. And no,” Xander said. Anya cocked her head in confusion. “I think the spell did something else.”
“Another memory?” she asked.
“Not exactly. More like . . . suppressed . . . desires,” Xander replied. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. God, this was going to be difficult.
“You’re gay!” Anya said. “I knew it!”
What? “Y-you did?” Xander squeaked. He wasn’t gay! Where did she get that idea? All right, he was attracted to Spike, but that didn’t make him gay! Did it?
“When you were unable to respond to me last night, I knew it must be something like that, because it certainly couldn’t be me. Right?” she asked worriedly.
“Of course not!” Xander found himself agreeing with her. Maybe it was better this way. Much easier telling her he was gay than that he was attracted to the evil undead. And how could that possibly be? He hated Spike. Always had, always would. Right?
“Oh, Xander,” Anya said sadly, and hugged him. “It’ll be all right.”
“Will it?” Xander asked, letting her comfort him. His emotions overwhelmed him, and the dam holding back the flood of tears broke. “I’ve never . . . . You’re the only one . . . . Please don’t tell anyone else about this,” he finally got out.
“Of course not, Xander. And I won’t forget, either. Not like the other times. Promise,” Anya assured him. After a couple of minutes of rocking Xander in her arms, she asked, “Do you want me to move out?”
“No!” Xander said, pulling back a little to look at her. “I mean, obviously we can’t . . . you know. But I’m not seeing anyone else, and you’re not . . . at least, not yet. I don’t see why we can’t stay here as roommates, as long as you’re not uncomfortable with that.”
“Are you sure?” she asked.
“Anya, I like you. I even love you. You’re a very good friend, and the only person I’ve mentioned this to, of course I don’t mind if we live together for a little while longer. You know, until some guy smarter than me sweeps you off your feet,” he added.
“All right,” she said. “Thank you.”
“Besides.” He gave her the patented Xander-grin. “Saves me having to lie to my friends when I tell them why we broke up.”
“You’re not going to tell them?” she asked.
“Nah,” he said. “Not until you find yourself another guy. This is all kinda new to me, and I’m still feeling a bit . . . .”
“Fragile?” she supplied.
“Yeah,” Xander said, with a bitter-sounding chuckle and a sickly smile. “Fragile.” Like the wrong word, the wrong look, might shatter him.
“That’s how I felt when I found out I was human again,” Anya said.
Xander looked around the candle-lit living room. “Want some champagne?” he asked.
“It was for a special night,” Anya said sadly.
“It has been a special night,” Xander said, squeezing her hand. Getting that off his chest didn’t really change anything, but for some reason it made him feel a whole lot better. Lighter, like he wasn’t the only one carrying that burden, now that he’d shared it.
Anya grinned as she rose from the couch. “Let’s use the special glasses instead of the plastic cups, then.”
~*~*~*~*~
The next night at the Magic Box, Xander took Giles aside and explained what he thought had happened to make him a better fighter; that the spell Willow performed on Buffy somehow affected him and made him “remember” the hyena possession. He didn’t mention the part about being attracted to Spike.
“Oh, dear lord,” Giles said, removing his glasses and wiping the lenses with a cloth he produced almost magically from his pocket. “I’ll have to see what we can do about reversing it,” he said thoughtfully, almost speaking to himself.
“Do we have to?” Xander asked. “I mean, I can fight better now. That’s good, right?” The last thing he wanted was to go back to being the one everyone else had to protect. Being able to fight, to actually contribute, felt good.
“Yes, of course it is,” Giles agreed. “But there could be other side-effects of the spell we’re not aware of. We don’t even know why it affected you, Xander.”
Xander almost laughed. Other side-effects, indeed. If he thought reversing the spell would make him forget his attraction to the aggravating bleached-blond vampire, he’d do it in a heartbeat. His luck, he’d lose his ability to fight, and remember being attracted to Spike. That didn’t bear thinking about.
When they returned to the front room where everyone, including Spike, was now gathered around the research table, Giles repeated what Xander had just told him. Willow, though excited that she had been able to release the hyena’s knowledge -- which they thought had been purged from Xander’s mind, but must have been deeply buried instead -- was horrified that yet another spell had gone wrong. Xander tried to comfort her, assuring her that everything was good, and that he wasn’t upset.
Things went smoothly over the next week. Xander was needed for little more than research and the occasional vamp dusting. He was amazed at how quickly he’d adjusted to his new abilities. The night Willow had performed the spell, Xander already noticed increased speed, agility, and strength, and over the last two weeks he’d just became even more adept. He and Anya spent some time alone, talking; learning how to be friends.
When Saturday rolled around again, Buffy wanted to go to The Bronze, so Xander and Anya agreed to meet her, Willow, and Tara there. When they arrived, the place was already crowded, the band in full swing. They pushed their way through the throng and found the three girls already at their table. Each girl had a cup of soda in front of them; a pitcher and two more plastic cups sat in the center of the table.
“Ladies,” Xander greeted the three giggling women.
“Hey, Xan!” they called over the noise. “Anya.”
“Hello,” Anya replied as she took the chair Xander held out for her. He sat beside her, and poured soda into the two cups. When it was empty, he motioned to the waitress for a refill. After she took the pitcher, Xander sat back and looked around the table at his girls. Willow and Tara sat with their heads close together, whispering, while Buffy scouted the club for an unsuspecting victim to be her dance partner.
Xander looked at Anya, who was also searching the crowd. He leaned closer to her. “What are you doing?” he asked.
“Looking for a man,” she said.
“Ah.” Xander nodded.
“For you, not me,” she assured him.
“Ahh!” he squealed. “That’s really not necessary,” he said. “Especially with my friends right here.”
“You do realize they’ll find out eventually; once you do find someone?” Anya asked. “Besides,” she said, “we’re just looking.”
“No,” Xander corrected, “you’re looking. Why don’t we dance instead?” he asked, when he heard the first strains of a slow song. He stood and took her hand, pulling her out of the chair. “We’re hitting the dance floor,” he told the others. “Join us?”
Willow and Tara jumped up, hand-in-hand, and preceded them to the dance floor. “Buff?” Xander asked. Buffy’s eyes alighted on a likely prospect, and she nodded, detouring to ask him to dance as Xander and Anya made their way to a spot near Willow and Tara. When Buffy joined them, she introduced the guy she’d snagged, and then each couple concentrated on their partner.
Xander was relaxed and having fun, chatting with the girls and the different guys Buffy danced with in her search for Mr. Right, until Spike showed up. He watched as Spike pulled up a chair and straddled it, studying the group sitting around the table while he tilted the beer bottle to his lips. Hmm, Spike’s lips, Xander thought. They looked kissable.
Xander shook himself and stared at his cup, determined not to look at Spike again. When he glanced up, he noticed that Spike was watching him, a quizzical expression on his face. Xander frowned at him, and turned away. The rest of the night passed smoothly despite Xander’s preoccupation with Spike, and his inability to actually keep his eyes off the other man. Part of him made note of Spike’s not inconsiderable assets, while the other part was berating him for feelings he couldn’t control.
Then Anya leaned over to him. “How about that one?” she asked, not for the first time that night. Xander automatically raised his eyes to where Anya was pointing, and then groaned. He didn’t realize he’d groaned aloud, until he turned his attention back to the table and saw his friends all staring at him. “What?” he asked.
“What’s wrong?” Buffy asked.
“Nothing,” Xander denied, even as he felt heat suffuse his skin.
Spike, though, hadn’t missed the byplay between Xander and Anya. He looked over at the guy Anya had pointed out to Xander, and then back at Xander. “Something you want to tell us, Harris?” he asked with a smirk.
Xander didn’t think he could blush any more, nor could he think of anything to say in response. Anya leapt into the breach. “I’ve been trying to convince Xander that a threesome would be fun. He’s not being very cooperative.”
Xander was wrong; he could blush more. He wanted to crawl into a hole at the looks of disbelief and disgust Buffy and Willow gave Anya. Well, actually, Willow looked more intrigued than disgusted, and that didn’t even bear thinking about. When Xander looked at Anya and she gave him a little shrug of her shoulders and a ‘sorry’ face, he couldn’t be angry with her. He realized that she’d said the first thing she could think of to cover for him.
Although, a part of him pointed out, she wouldn’t have had to cover if she hadn’t been pointing out possible guys for him. If only he could tell her that the guy he wanted, the only guy he wanted, was sitting right here at the table with them. But he didn’t think he could ever do that. Xander did the only thing he could; he put his arm around Anya’s shoulders and leaned down to give her a kiss.
“Why don’t we talk about this later?” he asked, loud enough for his friends to hear him, to believe that he and Anya were actually discussing the possibility of a threesome. Xander found himself enjoying the shocked looks on his friend’s faces at the thought that he might really be considering Anya’s proposal. But the relieved look on Anya’s face was worth it.
“Really?” she asked. “I mean, you’re not mad?”
“I’m not mad,” Xander assured her. He was pretty certain, however, that he wouldn’t be able to sit at the table with Spike any longer without giving something away. So far he’d managed to avoid soulful looks and deep sighs, but you never knew. “In fact, why don’t we go home and talk about it now?”
“Now?” Anya asked in surprise.
“Yeah,” Xander said, rising to his feet and helping Anya out of her chair. “You can try again to convince me.” Anya giggled. “Goodbye, ladies,” he said, looking around the table. “Spike.” The vampire looked back at him with narrowed eyes, barely visible through a cloud of smoke.
When they got outside, Anya apologized. “I’m sorry, Xander. I didn’t realize I was being so obvious. I just, I love you. I’ve never had a best friend before. And I want you to find somebody who makes you happy.”
“I know, Ahn,” Xander said, as he led her to the car. “Nice save, by the way.”
Anya giggled again. “It was the first thing that popped into my head,” she admitted. “And I figured they’d believe it since I, well, have a tendency to say those private things when I shouldn’t, and . . . .”
Xander silenced her with a chaste kiss on the lips. “It’s okay,” he said, and opened the car door for her. “Why don’t we go home and see if there are any old black and whites on television?”
“Okay!” Anya agreed, as she slid into the car.
Neither of them saw Spike step from the shadows as they drove away, a look of contemplation on his face.
~*~*~*~*~
Three weeks later, Xander and Anya were still living together, and his friends remained ignorant of the fact that they were now just friends. On Friday night, they went to the movies. As they were walking back to the car, Xander’s more sensitive hearing picked up raised voices and the sounds of a scuffle from the alley beside the movie theater.
“Ahn, go get in the car,” Xander said, pulling a stake out of his pocket and heading towards the alley.
“Xander!” Anya hissed worriedly.
“I’ll be all right,” he said, looking briefly over his shoulder at her. “Go!” He turned back to the alley and moved stealthily towards the entrance. He didn’t know how many vampires there were, but he couldn’t leave an innocent in their clutches. The scene that met him when he poked his head around the wall was unexpected.
Spike was on his knees, clutching his head while three men kicked and punched him, laughing and taunting him. One man - obviously the man Spike had managed to hit before he went down when the chip kicked in - was lying on the ground. Christ, Xander thought, humans. Since they were hitting and kicking Spike, he hoped that meant they weren’t carrying weapons. He replaced the stake in his pocket, and snuck down the alley.
Fuck, he thought, when the dim light from the street glinted off the blade of a very sharp looking knife. The thug’s arm flashed, and Xander thought he heard the blade slice through the t-shirt and skin covering Spike’s chest. He lifted his arm for another slash while his two buddies laughed. Before he could strike, Xander moved in and grabbed his wrist.
“That would be a bad idea,” he growled as he squeezed the man’s wrist. Xander found that he found altogether too much enjoyment from the grimace of pain that covered the other man’s face as he crushed his wrist; nearly as much as he enjoyed the howl of pain and the clatter as the knife hit the pavement.
One of his friends moved in to assist him. Xander felt his approach, and without looking, punched him in the face. When he angrily charged Xander again, Xander kicked him hard enough to send him crashing into the brick wall on the other side of the alley. He slid down the wall and ended up slumped on the ground. The fourth man made a move towards Xander, but Anya’s voice stayed him.
“I wouldn’t,” she said. Xander glanced over his sholder to see her standing with her feet spread, the baseball bat they carried in the car held in both hands, like she was ready to take as swing.
Xander looked back at the man now kneeling before him. “If you want to keep this hand,” he snarled, squeezing harder, “you’ll disappear. I don’t want to see you again.” Xander let go of him and he staggered to his feet, cradling his wrist against his chest. The man Anya stood off picked up the man Spike had downed before Xander showed up, then helped the one Xander had kicked into the wall regain his feet. The four of them stumbled out of the alley and Xander heaved a sigh of relief.
He turned his attention back to Spike. He kicked the knife away and slowly went to his knees. Spike was now lying face-down on the pavement, his eyes closed. “Spike,” Xander called softly. “Spike?”
Xander carefully rolled Spike to his back, and hissed. Spike must have been in this alley with those men for a while before Xander found them. His face was swollen, and covered with cuts and bruises. He was bleeding from the cut on his chest, and Xander was afraid to see what kinds of wounds were hidden by the clothes he was wearing. Without conscious thought, Xander lifted Spike in his arms and carried him out of the alley.
“Is he all right?” Anya asked as she looked around them to make sure the thugs had actually left and weren’t waiting to ambush them.
“I don’t know,” Xander said. “He’s not dust, at least.”
Anya opened the backseat door, and Xander carefully levered Spike into the car. He drove back to their apartment as quickly as he could. When they got Spike upstairs, Anya helped Xander remove his duster, and then he laid him on the couch. Spike was still unconscious. Anya gathered their first aid kit while Xander cut Spike’s t-shirt off him. He gasped at the bruises covering Spike’s torso. It was impossible that his ribs survived this beating intact.
When Anya returned, Xander took the first aid kit from her and carefully cleaned the cuts covering Spike’s face and the slash on his chest. While he was doing that, Anya removed Spike’s boots to make him more comfortable. Xander hemmed and hawed about removing Spike’s jeans to check for injuries to his legs. He finally looked up at Anya.
“Should we . . . .” Xander gestured. “. . . remove his jeans?”
“Yes,” Anya replied immediately. “He’s bleeding.” She pointed to a damp spot on the leg of Spike’s jeans. Xander pressed his finger to it, and it came away red.
“Shit,” he said, quickly and mechanically undoing Spike’s jeans and pulling them off him with Anya’s assistance. “Throw these in the washer, would you?” Xander asked, as he set to cleaning the cuts on Spike’s legs. Those bastards must have been wearing steel toed boots, he thought, wishing he’d hurt them worse when he’d had the opportunity.
When all the cuts had been doctored, Xander took a moment to let his eyes wander over Spike’s naked body. He’d never seen Spike without his t-shirt, much less without his jeans, and the sight of his muscular chest and strong legs was enticing. Despite the severity of Spike’s injuries, Xander found himself getting aroused.
“He’s very nicely shaped,” Anya commented from behind him, and Xander’s unseemly erection deflated.
“I’m going to get him a pair of sweats,” Xander said, and hobbled into the bedroom. Anya helped him dress the vampire in the sweat pants, and then pulled the curtains while Xander placed a blanket over the unconscious form. He sat on the coffee table and studied Spike while he had the chance.
“I’ll just go get ready for bed,” Anya whispered. Xander acknowledged her with a nod, though he barely heard her. His thoughts were concentrated on the man lying on his couch. The man he felt a sudden, inexplicable attraction to. Tears burned his eyes as he thought about how he’d almost lost Spike tonight. Lost him before Xander had a chance to tell him how he felt. Not that he ever would. Xander could just imagine Spike’s reaction; the horror, the amusement, the contempt.
Xander didn’t think he could face that, so Spike would never know how he felt. And how, exactly, was he supposed to re-bury those feelings? Perhaps he should see if Giles had come up with a way to reverse the spell. He’d miss being able to fight, because that gave him such a rush, but it might be worth it to no longer have feelings for Spike. Feelings that he could never admit; that would never be returned.
He reached out and lightly brushed his fingers over Spike’s face. His chest ached, feeling the loss of something he’d never even had. With a low moan -- of pain, of sorrow, Xander didn’t know -- he leaned forward and placed a gentle kiss on Spike’s lips. A soft sound caught his attention, and Xander whirled his head towards it. Anya stood just inside the living room, her hand over her lips, her eyes wide.
“Oh, Xander,” she said once he’d spotted her. “Not Spike?”
Xander couldn’t speak, everything suddenly seemed overwhelming and unfair, and a tear rolled down his cheek.
“Oh, Xander,” she repeated, as she walked over to him. She sat down on the coffee table and pulled him into her arms. Xander rested his head on her shoulder and let the tears fall. He wrapped his arms around her as soft cries turned to sobs, and her hold on him tightened as she whispered nonsense words of comfort. Tears of confusion, and fear, and unhappiness that had been building up over the last month spilled out of him.
When the tears finally stopped Xander wiped his face with the hem of his t-shirt. “Tomorrow I’m going to see if Giles has found a way to reverse the spell.”
“Do you think that’ll work?” she asked.
“What do you mean?” Xander found the box of tissues and blew his nose.
“Do you really think you can un-remember all of this, Xander?”
“God, I hope so,” Xander said despairingly.
Anya’s brow crinkled in confusion. “But, I thought you liked being able to fight?”
“I do,” Xander admitted. “And I’ll miss that, if I even remember that I could, but it’s very difficult suddenly being attracted to someone you’ve hated, someone who still hates you. I don’t know if I can do it anymore.”
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