Suki Blue Fiction

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Chapter 31

He was running but they were so far away. All of them. He reached out but they all turned from him.

“Spike!”

There was no answer. Only darkness and grass made wet with blood. He ran faster, but the ground was slippery and littered with wood: branches, twigs and stakes. He tripped and fell to his hands and knees and when he staggered back to his feet he retched at the blood dripping through his fingers.

“Spike? Where are you? She’s gone, Spike. She’s dead. We’re all dead.”

Nothing. His heart was hammering, crashing in his ears, getting louder and louder like a marching band. There were trees surrounding him, spinning, their branches reaching out; and when he tried to run, his hands at his ears, the branches snagged his clothes and the blood ran down his face.

“Spike!”

“All right, all right, hold your bloody horses. I’m coming!”

Xander’s eyes flashed open and he sat bolt upright, immediately regretting it when the room swung dangerously to the side and his head threatened to split open. He pressed the heels of his hands to his sweaty forehead and swore. “Ow.”

Spike appeared at his side with a mug of something hot and a plate of something that made Xander’s stomach swish like a washing machine. He pushed the plate away and bolted for the bathroom.

When he came back, pale and shivering, he sat down heavily on the bed and accepted the mug that appeared beneath his nose. He glanced around warily for the plate.

“Stashed it in the hall,” Spike said, tilting his head towards the door. “You alright?”

Xander drank down the - oh god, tea, yum - and held out the mug for Spike to take. “No. Definitely not alright.” His brow wrinkled in thought as he tried to remember what had landed him in such a state of sickness. “You bastard,” he said when he’d remembered. “You drugged me.”

Spike shrugged awkwardly. He looked away and scratched at a worn patch of denim on his knee. “Yeah. Well, you knew that when you took the pills. Obviously.”

“I didn’t know they were gonna knock me out cold!” Xander yelled. Yelling was such a harsh thing to do when your head felt like it was about to give birth to an alien. “Oh god, you killed me,” he said, clutching at the sheets and hoping he wouldn’t barf a second time.

“I’m sorry, luv.”

A tentative hand touched his shoulder and rubbed gently. Spike did sound genuinely sorry and Xander was really in need of some sympathy. He leaned vaguely in Spike’s direction and closed his eyes when an arm slipped around him. “If you weren’t already dead, I would so kill you for this.”

Spike nodded and kissed Xander’s damp head. “I know I deserve it. Didn’t want to do it, though. Believe me.”

“Just please tell me you have Advil.”

Spike pulled a little bottle out of his pocket. He shook it in illustration and the pills inside jangled happily. Spike passed him some water and tipped three of the pills into his hand. Xander threw them into his mouth, drank just over half the water and closed his eyes again.

“These work in under thirty seconds, yes?” He drank the rest of the water, keeping his eyes tightly closed, and lay back on the bed when Spike relieved him of the glass.

“Sorry,” Spike said again. “I’ll make it up to you. Promise.”

Xander felt cool fingers against his cheek. He opened his eyes and stared into a face which appeared to be extremely sorry. Xander was used to giving people the benefit of the doubt, so he was prepared to do the same for Spike. Besides which, Spike was utterly gorgeous when he was sorry, and Xander wondered how exactly Spike would make it up to him. He smiled and immediately some of the worry slipped from Spike’s face.

“Okay, then,” Xander said, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling. “Tell me why…there is a huge crack in the ceiling. Uh, has that always…?” He pointed directly above them. “Did you know there’s a huge crack in your ceiling?”

“Ah,” Spike replied. “Earthquake did that.”

Xander frowned at him and propped himself up on his elbows. He looked from the crack to Spike and then back to the crack. “How long was I out?”

Spike shrugged again. “Day and half.”

Xander sat up and glared incredulously. “Excuse me, what now? I think maybe I’m losing either my hearing or my senses because I could have sworn you just said a day and a half.” He looked over at the open window. “It’s Friday? Prom night? Spring Fling?”

“Look, don’t worry-”

“Don’t worry?!” Xander catapulted himself from the bed and pointed at Spike with an accusing finger. “Spring Fling isn’t just about getting flung, it’s the night of the prophecy! Buffy! Oh my god!”

“Pet, calm down. There’s a plan. Not one I particularly like, but there is a plan.”

Xander opened his mouth to say bad words, but Spike was in his personal space, crowding him and confusing him with his blue eyes and soft hands on his jaw.

“Please, luv. You said you trusted me.”

They stared at each other and Xander noticed the loud ticking of the clock and the creak of far away pipes.

“Please. Go shower and I’ll make you another cuppa. Come downstairs when you’re ready and me and Angel will explain everything that we’ve found out and what we intend to do.”

Xander nodded and backed away, staring until Spike went away with a guilty look. He was suddenly feeling numb again. And scared, really damn scared.

Xander showered quickly and was mildly relieved that his head felt a little clearer and, thankfully, he didn’t feel like throwing up his own intestines – not that he’d ever felt like throwing up someone else’s intestines because that would be weird. Yep, his thoughts were starting to dart around in all directions. He was definitely feeling more like himself. He towelled himself off ineffectually and then cursed when his underwear rolled over his damp legs instead of sliding. Five minutes later, rushed and dishevelled, he was heading down the stairs into the main room.

“Okay, what the hell is going on?” he asked Angel. There was no Spike in sight, a fact that Angel looked decidedly displeased about.

“Well? I realise you’re not big with the talking thing, but an answer sometime this week would be kind of handy.”

Angel’s expression didn’t change and Xander was left trying to stare him down. He again noted the cut on Angel’s lip, much less pronounced than it had been a day and a half ago.

Spike arrived at his side with another mug of strong, hot tea. Xander sat down on the couch and wrapped his hands around the mug, the steam lightly billowing over his face and the slight burn of the mug on his hands waking him up the rest of the way.

“Right,” Spike said, sitting down on the couch and nervously rubbing his palms over his legs. “Firstly…the whole drugging you thing…”

Spike hesitated and Xander turned to look at him while he waited.

When Spike finally met his eyes, he managed to finish his sentence. “…it was Angel’s fault.”

Xander’s head whipped around to glare viciously at Angel, who had the good grace to look away and find a spot on the wall suddenly very interesting.

“He came up with the idea to drug you,” Spike continued. “I didn’t want to do it, so we had a big row over it and exchanged a few unpleasantries. Had a bit of a falling out, we did.”

Xander turned back to Spike and squinted at the nearly-not-there black eye. “You wailed on each other?”

“Had a bit of a barny, yes,” Spike agreed. “I don’t want to you to be involved in this, luv. I want you well out of it.”

“That can’t be,” Angel said, solemn as could be.

“I bloody know that!”

“Ow, please don’t shout,” Xander said, pressing one hand to the side of his head.

Spike petted his back apologetically.

“Just tell me what’s going on so we can go save Buffy,” Xander pleaded. “There might not be much time.”

“We’ve got time,” Spike said, a knowing expression passing between himself and Angel.

“We’ve translated the text,” Angel said.

“The Manifesto or the Codex?” Xander asked.

“Both.”

“But the Codex was crap,” Spike added. He picked up the Xeroxed copies and threw them down on the floor.

Angel briefly frowned at the mess before he turned back to Xander, leaning forward to rest his forearms on his knees, his fingers lacing together. “It was very vague,” he said. “The Manifesto, once we got to grips with it, was much more detailed.”

“Very detailed,” Spike added.

Angel continued. “It agreed with the Codex in that tonight Buffy will face the Master.”

“But she doesn’t die?” Xander asked, clinging to any shred of hope he could find.

Angel was still and his stare seemed to pass straight through Xander. Spike clicked his fingers impatiently at him and Angel jolted slightly and seemed to shake himself out of whatever trance he was in. “She dies.”

“Oh my god.” Xander felt like crying. He felt like lobbing his tea mug across the room and screaming until his throat was raw and his voice was gone.

“Oh, do me a favour!” Spike spat. “For fuck’s sake, Angel, don’t stop there. You pausing for dramatic effect or what?! You git!”

“There’s more,” Angel calmly added, and Xander could feel Spike bristling beside him. “She comes back. She faces the Master again and she defeats him.”

Xander was confused. His panicked brain was having trouble processing this new information. “She doesn’t die?” he asked Spike softly.

Spike’s arm went around him again. “She dies, luv. I’m sorry, but we can’t stop that. But someone brings her back – CPR or whatever – and then she kills the old fucker. Happy ending, yeah?”

But Spike didn’t look so sure.

“What’s the catch?” Xander asked, because there was always a catch, always an obstacle or a price to pay.

“Catch is…it’s you that saves her.”

Xander’s eyes widened at that. “Me?” He started to smile. “I always knew I was Buffy’s white knight.”

“This isn’t a good thing, Xan. It means you’ve got to go down to his bloody lair.”

Xander took in the worried look on Spike’s face and he swallowed. “Well, what does the prophecy say?”

Angel looked uncomfortably at Spike. “It tells of three going beneath.”

“That’d be us three,” Spike interrupted.

“One saves the Slayer with the breath of life.”

“Okay, that would be me,” Xander said. He put the mug down on the floor before it cracked beneath his clenching hands or, more likely, he dropped it. “Then what?”

Spike and Angel looked at each other.

“Then what?” Xander asked again, feeling the panic crawling under his skin.

“Then…you face the Anointed One.”

Xander lifted both eyebrows. “The Anointed One who Buffy killed months back? Or is this a new and improved and much more deadly Anointed One whose ass you’re both gonna kick on my behalf?”

“She didn’t kill him,” Angel said. “We got that wrong.”

Xander got up and started to pace. “Oh well, mistakes happen, errors are made and sidekicks get sucked dry as a result. Nothing to worry about, huh?” He laughed nervously. “So what does the rest of the prophecy say? You guys save me, right? Or – or I deftly slay the Big Bad and we all go to the Dance?”

Spike stood and walked towards Xander, his arms reaching out to him.

“No, don’t,” Xander said, backing away from him. “Just tell me what the prophecy says.” He swallowed and looked down at his feet. “I die, don’t I?”

“No!” Spike said firmly. He reached out again and held onto Xander’s arms, giving him a little shake when he was unresponsive. “It doesn’t say that!”

Xander looked up. “Are you sure?”

“Luv, if it said that I would have drugged you and driven you as far away from this hellhole as I could. It doesn’t say that,” Spike repeated.

“Then what does it say?”

“Nothing,” Spike said. “It says nothing. The rest of the prophecy is missing.”

“Oh, that’s just swell. Thank you very much.” Xander pulled away again. “Okay, so what do you think it might say?” he asked, grabbing onto any thread of hope he could.

“We don’t know,” Angel said.

Spike surged forward again, his face suddenly brightening. “But you don’t have to do this. We can leave - now. We can get in the car and just bugger off. We can go anywhere you want, anywhere-”

“No, he can’t,” Angel insisted. “He has to save Buffy.”

“Oh right. So as long as your bird is alright, the rest of us can go to hell!”

“Spike, stop it. You know that isn’t the case. We’ve been through this. If Buffy doesn’t come back, she can’t fight the Master and the Hellmouth will open. Everybody dies.”

“Bollocks,” Spike muttered. He looked overwhelmed with misery, his features drawn and his shoulders hunched and deflated. “I keep forgetting that.”

“Okay, everybody just stop.”

Spike and Angel went very still, like they were frozen to the spot. They both looked at Xander.

“I can do this. I can face the Anointed One. I can do it. I can. I can.”

“’Course you can,” Spike said. He moved into Xander’s space again and held him tightly. “We’ll give you some cool weapons and you’ll kick his scrawny little arse.”

“He’s scrawny?” Xander asked, a little weakly but a lot hopefully.

“Pet,” Spike said, pulling back and hovering his hand about four feet from the ground. “He’s this high. He’s a kiddie. You’ll get him, no probs.”

“I have to fight a child?!”

And that was the point at which Xander had his freak out. His voice had thankfully broken a long time back, but Xander found himself hitting those high notes once again.

“I can’t kill a child, Spike!”

“He’s not a child. Not a real one, anyway. He’s a demon.”

They looked at each other and Xander thought “Just like you” but didn’t say it.

“You have to do it,” Spike continued. “You have to kill him. You will.”

“But the prophecy doesn’t say I’m supposed to,” Xander whispered sadly, his head starting to throb again. “It just says that I face him.”

For a split second there was despair on Spike’s face, utter desolation and devastation. Then something seemed to click and defiance took over. His features sharpened and he growled. “I won’t let you die.”

“But you can’t-”

“I won’t let you die.” His face changed, his brow creasing and his eyes morphing to a glittering gold.

Xander’s breath hitched and he longed to kiss Spike, to bare his throat for a second time and let Spike take whatever he wanted. His hand automatically went to the faint bite mark at his neck.

Then Spike was right in front of him, angry, passionate eyes staring into his. “I won’t let you die.”

Xander grabbed him and held on, grateful for the iron grip Spike had on him. He smoothed his cheek against Spike’s shoulder and let out a shaking breath. “You’d better not. Otherwise I’ll be really mad.”

Spike almost laughed. His hand carded through Xander’s hair instead. “Can’t have that, eh?” he whispered.

“No. And you promise me I can have the cool weapons?”

“Promise, luv. I’ll show you some wicked moves, too. I’ll bet Angel’ll let you practice them on him.”

Xander laughed lightly and quietly, his head still resting comfortably on Spike’s shoulder. “Oh yeah, I’ll bet.” A quiet but continuous tapping noise started outside, but Xander chose to ignore it. “Spike? Why did you drug me?”

“You were a walking zombie,” Spike answered immediately. If he heard the noise from outside, he didn’t show it. “You weren’t sleeping or anything. Angel thought you should get some rest.”

“By knocking me out? At least he didn’t punch me, I guess.”

“Like he’d have got close enough.”

“Is that why you two fought? Because he wanted to drug me and you didn’t ?”

“Yep.”

“My hero. I think he was probably right, though. I would have been useless, the state I was in. As much as it destroys a little piece of me to say that.”

“Telling me. Actually, I would have given in a long time before I did but hitting him was sort of fun, like gopher bashing.”

Xander heard the strain leave Spike’s voice. He smiled, even thought he was still scared as hell. “So you got to beat up Angel and I got to hurl my way to Barf City. Nice. And so not fair.”

The noise outside grew louder and Xander and Spike moved apart, each wearing puzzled frowns.

“What is that?” Angel asked, obviously having decided that it was safe to return. “Sounds like…?”

Xander pulled back the thick, heavy drape and gazed out into the darkness. He squinted and felt Spike move in behind him. “Uh…”

Spike laughed incredulously and pulled the material further aside. “Check it out, it’s raining stones! Bloody pebbles!”

“Figures,” Xander muttered. “Welcome to the Apocalypse.” He stepped away from the window, leaving Spike to his amusement. “So what next?” he asked Angel.

“I have to go out. I need to see Giles again.”

“Does he know about Buffy?”

Angel nodded.

“And me?”

“No. Not yet.”

Angel didn’t elaborate so Xander let him go. Not that Xander was scared of Angel, but he didn’t look as though he wanted to be pushed, which was fair enough. Neither did Spike.

Xander returned to the window and together he and Spike watched the falling pebbles. It really wasn’t a good time for insurance companies – or for Angel, Xander thought between snickers, as a particularly large pebble caught Angel in the eye as he left.

“I should have gone with him,” Xander said later when the pebbles had died down to just a dusting of grit.

Spike shrugged. “Maybe we both should have. Reckon we’re gonna have some explaining to do when all this is said and done anyway.”

That meant a lot, that Spike was talking like it was a forgone conclusion that Xander was going to make it through. Maybe he would make it through. But would Spike?

Xander quickly buried that thought. “Giles is gonna go crazy when he finds out about you.”

Spike shrugged again. “So? Let him. You and me, we’re gonna save his precious Slayer and the world while we’re at it. He’ll be thanking us before the night is over. Just think of the points we’ll score.”

Spike obviously didn’t know Giles all that well, but it was nice and strangely romantic that he was using all this to make their relationship easier.

“You really think we’re gonna make it, don’t you?”

Spike put his arm around him. “I know it. Got a sixth sense, you see,” he said, tapping his head to make the point. “Came from living with Dru for so long.” Spike dropped his arm and slapped Xander’s ass instead. “Right. Weapons.” Then he disappeared and came back with an axe and a maniacal grin.

Oh yeah, Xander was scared.



TBC…