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"But Willow.."
"Giles refused us. We were on our own."
"And you didn't think to ask the Witch's bestest bud and soul saver for help? Or did you just not think I'd be able to convince her?"
"Watcher said…didn't want to put you in the middle."
"Didn't think about asking me, did you? Fine. I thought you were different. That you saw, but just fucking fine."
"You didn't know the chit, why would you-"
"Help? It's what I do, Spike. It's not like I can save the day, but I help. And I did get to know her. How do you think I found my way into the medical facilities when you were all handless? Both Willow and Andrew talked about her, so I trusted her. She hung out with me while you were all druggy. Just because you're ashamed to be seen with me, doesn't mean I wouldn't help."
"Is that what you think? That I'm ashamed of you? Of this, whatever this is, and don't bloody say it's a thing. Know you've been avoiding the Council, didn't want to drag you into it."
"And you couldn't be bothered to ask. So, Xander can't make up his own mind. Obviously, I've deluded myself into thinking I'm somewhat competent, or that you thought I was, despite current consensus otherwise. I've got to go. I just need to get out of here."
Grabbing a handful of stakes, Xander stormed out of the condo, slamming the door loud enough to make even Spike wince.
"That went well," thought Spike as he collapsed on the leather sofa. He should probably follow him, talk it out, but he'd rarely seen Harris in such a foul humor. 'Course, his own disposition wasn't the sunniest at the moment. Nothing like losing someone who respected him, who was a good person, brave and determined. And he couldn't stop it. Couldn't save the girl. He'd kept it together, wasn't going to let Angel see him get all weepy, but he'd been expecting.. .don't know.
This wasn't what he thought his reunion with Xander would have been like. Christ, Harris hadn't even opened the present he'd grabbed for him on the way back to the airport. If he'd been thinking, he would have bought himself a bottle of Jack or good whiskey, but he'd picked up a dozen different Cadbury bars for his friend. Had to introduce the lad to the good chocolate.
Sitting up, Spike ran his hand over his face. Bloody knackered he was. It felt like he'd been up for weeks, not days. Topping that off with not being able to save the girl, knackered didn't begin to cover it.
Had he underestimated Xander? Had he been over protective? He'd been on enough patrols with the Scoobies to know that it pissed Harris off to be coddled. Spike hadn't known that Harris had met Fred, he hadn't wanted to presume--and how fucking Victorian was THAT turn of phrase--on whatever was between them, that Xander would go against his mates, would even consider it, for Spike.
Pushing on the seat, he got up and wandered to the kitchen. Blood, maybe that would help clear his head. On the counter beside the fridge, he saw a box of Weetabix. Harris didn't eat that stuff, he'd heard him complain about it enough times to know that. Why would he buy a box? Unless...
A thought that stopped all others crossed Spike's mind. The visits and the blood had been one thing; comrades in arms or some such could explain that. The kisses and extra? Boy was in a vulnerable place, needed some consoling, plus both of them were male, not going to decline a good time for silly emotional reasons.
No, couldn't be what he was thinking.
The box of Weetabix kept staring at him.
Huffing at his own fevered imagination, he set the mug with a vampire on it--and where had Harris found that? he wondered--in the microwave. He tapped his fingers on the counter while blankly watching the numbers wind down. He ignored the yellow box and wandered back into the living area..
Could go home. Could wait here for Harris; make sure he was okay. Could just pass out. All the nervous energy that had kept him awake over the last few days was conspicuously absent.
Draining his mug, he placed it on the side table, beside the DVD case for Return of the Killer Tomatoes. Good choice in flick, that was. Definitely up for MST3K'ing. Maybe he should put it in? A yawn overtook him. Maybe in a moment. He just wanted to rest his eyes. Xander should be back any minute.
**********************************
It had been a frustrating patrol. He'd tried to keep the storefronts on his left side, minimizing that big old blind spot he had. Meant he had to turn his head to check all the alleys, but better safe than sorry now.
He wasn't sure if he wanted to run into some vamps, or just wanted to be a where that was else. He couldn't believe that Spike, SPIKE, would have sidelined him like that. The rest of the gang, sure, they were used to the Zeppo. Their Xander-shaped friend's role was backup or in charge of the running away. Not that it had turned out well in the vineyard. God, he couldn't even manage the fleeing properly. But the times he and Spike had been out, he'd been treated as a full partner, not a sidekick.
The last few days, when Spike had been away, he'd suddenly realized how much he'd counted on Spike to watch his blind side. They'd never discussed it, but, during a fight, Spike was always on his left. He'd missed that, earned himself a few bruises until it came to his attention.
Shaking his head, he opted for a short patrol. The punching bag in the condo's workout room would have been a safer bet, less likely for anyone to end up bloody. There wasn't that much vamp activity nearby, and he wasn't in the mood to cross town searching for it.
He should be used to it, being the lowest common denominator of the group. Probably what he got for hanging out with Slayers and witches and vamps. If he'd just stuck to bowling...his life would be empty. Normal just wasn't his calling. Neither was extraordinary, but there had to be SOME gray area where he would fit. He thought it had been with the Council. He'd really gotten along with the girls, calmed both them and their parents. After years of watching Buffy and Giles train, he'd added his own twists, making it fun. And his slayers did well. Giles had remarked how quickly "his" girls had adapted when they were sent for more centralized training. So why...damn pity train. Patrol was not a time to "woe is me," cause you never knew when--
*Scream*
that might happen. He raced towards the sound, pegging it an alley away. Stopping a moment to peer into the expected mayhem, he saw what looked like a large wild dog pinning a tall man into the wall. It was circling, as if playing with its food.
It looked a bit like Oz had, without the dyed furtips. Great, just great. Why did he need a werewolf to liven up these already lively times? And him without his wolfsbane or silver bullets.
The victim was trying to scrabble up on a dumpster, as if that would work. Xander could see that the alley opened to the next block. He looked up and down the street, praying for a miracle.
He got one.
A cab turned the corner. He ran toward it, waving it down. Double miracle -- it stopped. Hopping in, he told the driver, "Turn down that alley, quickly, then we're heading for the hospital."
He got a strange look, then a shrug. The driver pulled into the alley. The taxi's headlights reflected off two large eyes. There was a growl, and then a vague shape loped away.
A series of words that Xander assumed to be curses spewed from the driver's mouth, followed by, "Mother of God, what was that thing?"
"Wild dog? Look, someone's hurt." Barely giving the driver a moment to process that, Xander scrambled out of the car to the victim du jour.
"Hey buddy, that was some dog. Are you okay?" He scanned the man up and down. No scratches, no bites. He'd be okay, once he'd showered and burned those clothes. Not the tidiest of alleys here.
"That thing, it.."
"Did it bite you? Scratch you? Might need rabies shots." Xander had to make sure the guy was okay, another confused werecritter was not what any city needed.
"No, it never touched me. It just herded me into the wall. Why didn't it attack me?" The tall redhead now looked perplexed. "What type of dog was that? It was bigger than the Great Dane my neighbor has."
"All good questions, which deserve an answer. But unless you want to track it down, I think there's been enough excitement tonight. Do you need to go to a hospital? Or you can take my cab home. Don't think walking is a good idea after a shock."
"No, no hospital. Kinda between HMOs at the moment." Shaking his head, the man seemed almost to wilt. Xander knew that postadrenaline-droop reaction.
"Know what you mean. Here, take the cab. I'm only a block from home anyway."
Before the guy could complain, he loaded him into the cab and made sure he'd told the driver an address. Watching it pull away, he had a surge of satisfaction. He HAD made a difference tonight, even if it was just to scare the critter away. Might not be comic-book heroic, but it got the job done without him getting a turn at playing dead Scooby. Turning back toward the condo, he began to re-evaluate what had happened. Sure, Spike hadn't thought that he'd be able to help. At least he had a justification and not just that blank look the gang used to get, like why would Xander know anything?
He hated feeling useless. Even grabbing doughnuts was better than being ignored. But he hadn't been ignored. Spike had called before leaving for England, and had called to let him know he'd be over tonight. He entered the building's elevator and mindlessly pushed the button for the penthouse.
So, maybe he shouldn't be as mad with Spike. They'd never specifically talked about Fred, and he'd learned about being secondary to his friends' main interests. Support, he could do support.
Opening the door to his place, he saw a passed-out vampire on the sofa. He entered and locked up quietly, then he grabbed the bloody mug and smiled. Spike had looked a little haggard earlier.
Rinsing out the mug, he checked the time. Two AM. Dawn was a way off, but there were no curtains or blinds on the floor-to-ceiling windows. Shrugging, he kneeled by the couch and got his arms under the dead weight of a sleeping Spike. He rose and gently carried his burden to the bedroom, which DID have window coverings.
Placing Spike on the bed, he wrapped a blanket around him. Spike didn't hog the blankets, but he always made sure he was covered; no point in letting him grow cold. Xander backed out of the dark room and quietly closed the door.
He might still have access to the Watchers' online library. Time to research werewolves again.