Archive of Our Own

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No Place Like Home (1/6)

Title: No Place Like Home
Chapter: 1 of 6
Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: NC17
Disclaimer: I'm not Joss 
Summary: Vengeance demons have changed Angel into a baby. Before they will change him back, they demand that Spike and Xander fetch them a magic stone from an alternate universe. This is an entry in my Biteverse and a crossover with my original novel, Stasis, but this fic can be enjoyed on its own. 
Notes: This story is complete and I'll post a chapter per day. It was written for the lovely chaoskir . Many thanks to my hard-working beta, silk_labyrinth !  

No Place Like Home

One

“I’m not burning.”

Spike’s voice was so full of wonder, his upturned face so full of awe as he gazed at the blue sky above them, that at first all Xander could do was gather Spike into his arms and nuzzle gently at his neck.

But then Xander pulled away in shock. “You have a pulse.”

Spike put a hand to his chest, feeling his heartbeat. He looked utterly stunned and his breathing was rapid. After a few moments, though, he shook his head to clear it. “Your witch said I’d be…be human here.”

“Yeah, I know. But saying’s one thing, the reality of it is...really weird. How does it feel?”

“Odd. My senses are dulled.”

“Yeah, mine too.”

Spike nodded. “Right. No wolf here either.”

“So remember what she said—we’re both fully mortal now, with the weakness and the being killed easily parts and all.”

Spike nodded again, and then moved a half-step away from Xander. “And we’d best get a feeling for local customs before we’re too cozy with one another.”

“But Willow said it was San Francisco. You know, rainbow flag central.”

“No, she said it was the geographic area where San Francisco is in our world. Here, who knows?”

Xander made a sour face. In his educated opinion, alternate universes sucked. In the last one he’d visited there was no magic and alternate!Xander was a huge loser. Well, he was until Xander and Wes and Spike got to him—now, Xander suspected, the other Xander was doing a little better for himself. Still, visiting this place had not been at the top of his bucket list.

Spike was looking around at their surroundings, and Xander decided that was probably a pretty good idea and did the same. Nope—this place definitely didn’t look like SF. No Transamerica Pyramid. No Golden Gate Bridge or clanging cable cars. No cars at all, actually.

“Reminds me of London,” Spike muttered.

“Really?” Xander replied, because he’d been to London and it didn’t look anything like this. That body of water off to one side was a huge bay, not the Thames; the hills were steep, the streets cobblestoned and lined with stone and wood buildings of one or two stories.

“When I was a boy, I mean,” Spike explained. “No engines, no electric lines.”

Spike was right. There were a lot of people but they were mostly on foot, aside from the few that rattled by in carriages and one or two on horseback. The clothing was old-fashioned too—long, wide skirts on the women, suits with tailcoats on the men. “It’s retro,” Xander said.

“And we stick out like sore thumbs.” Spike was right again—he was dressed in his usual post-punk ensemble, and Xander was willing to bet Spike had the only pair of Docs in town. Xander himself was wearing jeans with a khaki-colored button-down and a brown jacket and Reeboks, which were also probably pretty rare around here.

“Maybe we better get our mystical doodad and get the hell out of here,” said Xander.

“That’d be lovely, pet. But first we have to find the bloody thing.”

Xander frowned. If they were going to get sent on stupid errands in unknown territory, you’d think someone could at least give them a hint where their quarry might be found. But no, that was too easy. “Fucking vengeance demons,” he mumbled.

Spike put a hand on Xander’s shoulder and pushed him off to the side, up against a wall where they were probably a little less conspicuous. Passersby still gave them strange looks, but now Xander saw that quite a few of the people in the area were wearing exotic costumes. Made sense, he supposed. They were standing right at the port, and there must be visitors here from all over. The bay was full of ships of varied sizes and shapes. Some of them looked like something you’d use to chase Moby Dick or hang out with Long John Silver. They all had sails and oars—clearly, no motors in the mix around here.

“Spike, what—”

“Ssh!” Spike tilted his head, clearly eavesdropping on the passing conversations. After a moment, he shook his head. “Bloody hell.”

“What?”

“They’re not speaking English.”

“Oh. What then?”

“Dunno. Sounds like Latin’s bastard child.”

“Latin. Goody.” Although it really didn’t matter—Xander was equally inept at every language except English. And French, in which he could say merde, sacre bleu! and because Madame Poujade wouldn’t give him a hall pass if he asked in English,

Peux j'aller à la salle de bains?

Well, Spike was good with languages, so maybe he’d be able to play translator.

They both pressed more tightly against the wall as two men in navy coats with lots of fancy braiding and shiny buttons walked by. Their backs were very straight and their gaze sharp. They gave Spike and Xander a doubtful look before continuing on their way.

Xander breathed a sigh of relief once they were gone. “You know, I’ve been in port cities before. Back when I was on duty in Africa.”

“Yeah?”

“They’re usually pretty lively places. Lots of noise and commotion. This place, though…doesn’t it seem kinda….” He searched for the right words.

Spike found them. “Dour. Dreary. Depressed.”

“Yep, all the bad d-stuff. Down in the dumps.”

Spike nodded. “I see what you mean. And I noticed the way the locals were watching those soldier-types. It’s a bit like the way people eye an vampire who might be a bit peckish.”

“Lovely. Spike, we should—”

“I know. Follow me.”

Xander did, sticking close behind Spike as they walked away from the waterfront, alongside a wide and busy street. Most of the buildings seemed to house businesses. Xander couldn’t understand the signs, but he guessed from the window displays and the scents that most of them sold nautical supplies like ropes and sailcloth and fishing nets, and the others housed restaurants filled with surprisingly un-rowdy sailor-types chowing down. The food smelled very good and Xander’s stomach rumbled. They hadn’t eaten for several hours before they left because Willow said cross-dimensional travel might make them queasy.

After several blocks, the buildings became slightly more upscale and the shops sold a larger variety of things, like clothing and pots and pans. There was one store that Xander thought might be a pharmacy. The upstairs apartments had open windows with clotheslines strung between them.

Spike led them onward a little while longer, and then turned down a side street and then another, until they found themselves in a narrow, empty alley. “We need a scheme,” Spike announced.

“Agreed. You got one?”

“I can manage a bit of the lingo. I’ll find us a flat and you can wait there whilst I poke about.”

Xander frowned. “That sounds like I’m pretty useless, Fang.”

Spike rested a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “You are pretty useless at the moment, love. You can’t understand a word anyone says, you’ve no idea how to manage in a place with this level of technology, and with the eye you stand out even more than I do.”

Xander automatically touched his eye patch. He sighed unhappily, but couldn’t really argue with Spike’s logic.

Spike glanced down the alley to make sure nobody was watching and moved closer to grasp both of Xander’s shoulders. “You’ll be of use eventually, I’m sure of it. For now, stay safe and let’s get this finished as quickly as we can.”

Xander put his arms around Spike’s waist and nodded against him. “But you won’t do anything risky, right?”

“Just info gathering, pet.”

“Go ahead and gather. But I’m coming with,” Xander said stubbornly. Spike frowned but nodded.

So Xander tagged along again when they left the alley. They walked around for a little while longer as Spike formed an idea of the city's layout. Xander mostly looked at the people. The majority of them were going purposefully about their work, and as far as he could tell they were well fed and decently dressed. But as they turned down one street, he saw a thin man in clothing that was hardly more than rags. The man had a thick metal collar around his neck and was straining to pull a cart that was overladen with pieces of broken cobblestone. A second man walked alongside him looking bored and bad-tempered.

Xander poked at Spike and cut his eye toward the men with the cart. Spike looked very unhappy. “Slaves,” he hissed.

“This place gets better and better.”

In a slightly shabby neighborhood, on a block crammed with people selling food and who-knows-what-else from pushcarts and stalls, Spike came to a halt in front of a door with a hand-lettered sign attached to it.

“You just keep your mouth closed and look respectable, right?” Spike said.

“No problem,” Xander replied, taking a moment to reflect on the irony of William the Bloody telling him to act respectable.

Spike rang the bell and a moment later the door opened to reveal a short, round woman in her mid-fifties or so. She wore a red scarf on her hair and a matching shawl over her shoulders, and she had a face that was shrewd but not unkind. Xander immediately got the feeling that she was the type of person who wouldn’t miss much. Spike said something to her that Xander couldn’t understand, but it certainly sounded a lot more polite than his vampire’s usual.

The woman frowned as if she were having trouble understanding him, and she asked him something slowly and a little loudly.

Spike replied, waving vaguely in Xander’s direction, and after a slightly doubtful pause she nodded and motioned them inside.

The foyer she led them through was plain but spotlessly clean, and a vase of bright flowers was set on a tiny table. They followed her to a stairway, then up two flights and down another hall, finally stopping in front of a white-painted door. Xander couldn’t help but notice the workmanship of the furniture they passed—everything looked handmade. The house itself was well-used, but solid and in good condition, as if someone had taken good care of it.

The woman opened the door and Spike and Xander entered what turned out to be a small room containing two narrow beds with a braided rug between them, a dresser, a plain wooden chair, and a window that overlooked the street. The ceiling was low and sloping, but Xander thought that made the room feel cozy.

Spike poked around for a few minutes before turning back to the woman and saying something affirmative-sounding. Then a pretty animated discussion followed between the two of them, during which Spike showed her a few of the pieces of silver that Willow had told them to bring. The woman inspected the silver very carefully, gave the two of them another long, considering look, and then nodded. She left, taking some of the silver with her.

“See?” Xander said as soon as she left. “Kept my trap firmly shut.”

Spike closed the door and then gave Xander an affectionate buss on the cheek. “That you did, love.”

“I take it this is our new digs?”

“’S a boarding house. The name of the missus is Fiana and it’s her house. I told her we’d sailed here just today. She wanted to know if we came after gold—I expect the gold rush happened rather later here than in our world. I told her we weren’t sure, but wanted to seek our fortune somehow. Promised we’d be well-behaved and paid for two weeks.”

“Two weeks! Do you really think we’ll be here that long?”

Spike shrugged. “Dunno.”

“Man, Angel will drive everyone nuts by then, Spike.”

“Xan, he’s normally enough to make anyone mental. I rather fancy him like this. He’s cute.”

Xander snorted. “Yeah, he makes an adorable baby, Spike. But he’s not so much with the demon-fighting, which leaves Kyna on her own and Giles and Lindsey and Wes babysitting, and I’m guessing none of them are happy campers.”

“Right. So we’ll find the vengeance demons’ trinket quickly and they can change the poof back, and you and I can go on a proper vacation—in our own world.”

“And Angel can pay for it.”

Spike walked to the window and Xander followed. The street was bustling with activity, but what caught their eyes was something they could just barely see through the rooftops: a hulking stone tower set on a hill.

“Looks like a fortress,” Xander observed.

“Likely it is. And it might be a good place to hunt for our knickknack.”

“Yeah, but the thing about fortresses is they’re hard to break into, Spike. And probably even harder to break out of.”

“Yeah,” Spike agreed unhappily. “Tell you what. You stay here and I’ll go find us a kit that won’t make us stand out. I’ll see what I can suss out about this place as well.”

Xander thought of that miserable guy with the slave collar. “Spike, I don’t want—”

“Can’t just hide away here, love, not if we ever want to return. I’ll be back soon. Board comes with the room, so if I’m not back by six, go down and eat.”

Spike began to walk away, but Xander caught his hand and held it tight. “Be back by six or I’ll come looking for you.”

Spike reached up and traced Xander’s cheek with one hand. “Right. I told Fiana we’re cousins. Seemed wiser.”

“So I’m thinking that pushing the beds together is probably a no.”

“All the more reason to hurry, love.”

Chapter Two