Take Care: Get Out

"Xander, you ever gonna tell me what's going on with you?" Buffy asked as she peered around an overgrown bush.

"Huh? No. Nothing going on." He readied the stake he had been given, set to make an attempt to back-up the slayer if needed. "Why?"

She held up a hand that meant to stay still and stay quiet. He gripped the stake tighter and a flash of memory whipped across his brain. The stake fell to the ground and he froze. A moment later he felt his body shake and heard a sound directed toward his head. He blinked and shook his head. "Sorry. I'm okay," he stammered.

"That's why," Buffy said.

"Why what?"

"Why I asked what's up. You've been acting weird a lot lately." She looked concerned, genuinely concerned that something was wrong.

He offered her a smile. "I'm okay. Just a little bit of 'leaving your fiancée at the altar' blues."

"You sure?"

"Yeah. You take care of whatever you were stalking?"

She nodded. "Vampire. Dusted. All gone." She smacked her hands together like she was brushing off dust.

He smiled. "Oh, good. What's for dinner?" he asked and retrieved the fallen stake as they began to walk.

*****

Spike.

He wanted to talk to him... have sex with him. Feel him touching his body with lips and hands and tongue and... But then that one night would zip through his mind again and all the bright would turn to dark. He did damn near anything to avoid the vampire, but Buffy's patrols had required random meetings. Spike seemed to pretend nothing had happened - like he had when they were still acknowledging each other's presence - throwing barbs and insults. Only now they sort of hurt. Before they were just Spike, now they almost seemed vicious. Or maybe that was just him. He had hoped that 'back to normal' would have been comforting, but he found himself missing the conversations, the stories, the sex.

Dammit.

The building rose up in front of him as he turned the last corner. He said a passing 'hello' to the front desk receptionist, then got onto the elevator. He pulled his keys from his pocket as he stepped from the car. When he raised his head he stopped dead in his tracks. The leather coat, the black boots, the platinum hair - all were unmistakably Spike; all were leaning against the wall just outside his apartment. He took a deep breath and walked to the apartment door.

"Leave me alone, Spike," he snarled.

The vampire raised his head and plucked the unlit cigarette from his mouth. "Plan to. Just dropping off some of your stuff." Spike held up a plastic Wal-Mart bag holding several recognizable items.

Xander nodded once. "Uh. Thanks." He took the bag and slid the key into the lock. "Something else?" he asked, his words clipped.

"No." The vampire turned and stalked down the hall.

Xander growled as he unlocked and opened the door, then slammed it shut and gave it a swift kick. Dammit! He threw the bag to the floor and sank down on his haunches, his head in his hands as the keys clattered to the floor. How do I get myself into shit like this? With a grunt, he got to his feet and made his way to the refrigerator. "No beer. Just great." He pushed the refrigerator door shut. "Maybe I should have let Spike come over here. There'd be beer."

As he drew a glass of water from the tap, he took another deep breath. He drank down the water and drew another glass that he sipped on his way to the bedroom. The warmth of his cozy, if empty, bed was beckoning, drawing him in. He put the glass on the bedside table and toed off his shoes.

*****

"My turn," Spike drawled, reclining lazily in the ugly armchair.

Oh. Uh. Um. Kissing was one thing, touching was another, but... I can do this. I can do this. He knelt on the floor, between Spike's feet, his hands on Spike's knees. He slid his hands up the strong thighs to the fly of Spike's jeans. "I'm going to need a road map here. Driving directions."

What the fuck? Xander frowned. "Uh, yeah. So, guess I'll be going." He loosened his grip and made to stand.

Slowly, he opened his eyes to get a glimpse of the vampire's face - eyes closed, lips parted in a silent moan of pleasure. He really wanted further verbal instructions, but the fact that he had not had his head ripped off, led him to believe he was doing fine. And, oddly, I'm enjoying this. And, apparently, so is Spike. I've never had another man's dick in my mouth and I'm not sure why I do now, except that I'm so horny and this is actually kinda hot.

Xander licked his lips and leaned over the slender hips to begin again.

*****

Xander turned the bottle of shampoo over in his hand, pondering. Anya used to use this brand. He put it back on the shelf and chose something less fruity and more manly. He tossed it into his cart and rolled to the next aisle.

"Hey, Xander!" a chirpy voice greeted him.

"Hey, Will," he returned and pushed his cart toward her. "Vitamin shopping?" He pointed to the bottle in her hand.

She smiled at him. "Sort of. Little research project for class. How are you? You were really quiet at dinner the other night."

"I'm okay. Just got kinda spooked when I was on patrol with Buffy. But, I'm good now." He put on his most sincere 'I'm fine' face.

"You sure?" Willow asked, voice full of concern.

He nodded. "Yeah. Thanks."

"Spike asked about you." She twitched her mouth. "Okay, not so much 'about' as 'Where's the Scooby-nit? Haven't had my fill of barbs and insults.' Was more asking than... not."

Xander gulped, swallowed hard. Spike had asked about him? Yeah, he had done it in the typical 'I don't want anyone to know I really care' Spike kind of way, but he had asked. Shit. I don't care. "Yeah? Great. Anything else?"

She shook her head. "Just...."

"I will. I am. Really." He did not want her to say it - take care of yourself - Spike had told him that. He did not want his best friend saying it too. He glanced at his watch. "Damn. I have a meeting with the crew in an hour. Look, I gotta go. I'm fine, Will. Thanks."

She smiled at him and turned to go. He sighed and leaned his head against the cart's handle. This sucks and it's getting worse.

"Oh, Xander," the red-head called to him one last time. He raised his head and caught her peeking around the edge of the aisle at him. "Swing by tonight or something."

"I'll try." He gave her a wave and went about the rest of his shopping.

*****

"You know, I shouldn't be seen in public with you unless one of us is at weapon-point?"

That sounds ominous. He kept stride and looked around for signs of Scoobies or other acquaintances. He stopped, refusing to move another inch, outside the store Spike had entered. "You have got to be kidding me."

Excuse me? Spike being nice? Carrying concern for my fears and not exploiting them? Shit. That just means he'll come out of the store dressed like a clown just to hear me scream like a girl. Yeah, the exploitation comes later. I should go. Xander sighed and leaned against a wall support outside the store. Spike was gone for a long time. He rolled his eyes and pushed away from the wall. I'm out of here in five... four... three.... Oh my God, what the hell is that? Xander took several steps away from the bouquet of balloons floating around the vampire's head.

Shit. How do we get out of this? If I start talking, I'll become stammer-man, which never goes well.

"Dare," Spike jumped in. Not saving the day, dumbass. Is that the best you got?

He said all that without a stutter? Damn.

My turn "Can't say. That's part of the dare. I can only tell one person, then I have to drag him or her along with me."

The younger Summers giggled. She bought it. "Well, suppose I should let you get back to your dare." She gave him a hug, Spike a slap on the shoulder and a quick peck on the cheek with a 'thanks,' then disappeared with her balloons into the Starbucks.

Oh. Oops. Thought we were going somewhere else with that. He blushed a little at the thoughts roaming through his brain.

The last few months had been anything but normal. The gang was focusing on trying to get back to research and demon fighting - that whole 'getting on with real life' stuff they all tried to do, Hellmouth or no. He had been spending one night a week with Spike - that was as much planning as ever went into his visits - but had started trying to find ways to swing by during the day without letting anyone find out about it. He had been doing well too - except that one time... Best not think on that now.

Spike shrugged. "Don't have to. Can just look if you want."

*****

Xander shook his head and focused his eyes on the road. That had been the first and only time he had agreed to take Spike to the mall. That store had wigged him a bit, but after a seemingly innocent trip to the grocery store turned into 'let's see how many ways I can make Xander blush,' he had decided shopping with Spike would need a carefully thought-out plan. Of course, shopping with Spike now was completely out of the question. He did not want to shop with Spike or talk to Spike or anything else that would involve the vampire being closer than a mile away.

The meeting with the crew that morning had gone well and everyone was ready to start on the next phase of the job. He had even made it through most of the day without thinking of Spike, except that bit about the shopping trip.

No. Anyway, today was more about Anya. And why is she talking to Buffy? She trying to steal all my friends? He approached the porch, talked to Buffy, tried to follow Anya.... "Buffy..."

She told him to calm down, not run after Anya. He did not even realize he had smashed the ugly garden troll until Buffy pointed and said, "Did Willow put that there when I was dead...?"

"Buffy." He knelt by the broken yard ornament, lifted a plastic and metal box with a wire on one end. A camera.

"Who...?"

"Who's in love with you and not getting any?" he asked. He did not want to believe Spike had planted the camera, but he could think of no one else who might have had an interest in watching Buffy's every move. "Wha... wait. Where are you going?" He caught her arm as she started across the yard.

She huffed and sighed. "I have to talk to him."

"And how is that a better idea than not talking to him?"

"He won't hurt me." A set of blinks, a reassuring hand on his arm. "Promise me you'll go home and not try to talk to Anya? Not yet."

He nodded and let her go. Spike can't be doing this... Oh, who am I kidding. He got back into his car and drove and drove and drove.

*****

Buffy's house was quiet. Dawn was at a friend's house; Willow, at the laptop tapping into the camera network; and Buffy, waiting. Him? He was trying not to think about his conversation with Spike...

*****

"Now it's your turn, eh mate?" the vampire snapped and slapped one of the support pillars. "Already had Slayer 'round yappin' at me. What's your problem?"

He nodded once and left. The conversation having not gone as he had expected. What he had actually expected, he was not sure, but he had been grateful for the excuse to, at least, talk to Spike. See those deep blue eyes again. Hear that strong, rich, commanding voice. Just a glimpse of bare chest beneath the partially unbuttoned shirt that gaped a bit when the irritated vampire marched around the crypt.

*****

"Oh, what's this?" Willow gasped, drawing him out of his reflection.

He and Buffy were up and by the witch's side and gazing at... "Oh God." Then his brain shut-down. He began to function on auto-pilot, grabbed a weapon and stalked all the way to the Magic Box, his internal monologue firing off statements and questions with every step:

Why is he doing this?

What was I thinking?

Damn him!

Swing. Smack! The axe lodged in the thick doorframe of the Magic Box and not Spike's head, where he had been aiming.

Dammit!

The axe was stuck, so he pummeled the vampire with his bare hands. Pushing, shoving, yelling at the bleached son-of-a-bitch to fight back, ignoring the 'chip' argument. More hitting. More shoving. Until Anya screeched at him to stop and pulled him off the undead guy.

He heard words coming out of his own mouth, arguments, reasons why what Anya did was wrong, only half-believing and half-hearing anything. Then Spike said, "It was good enough for Buffy." That caught him and he snapped something about leaving her out of this, then the statement clobbered him. Holy shit! Buffy had been sleeping with Spike? No. No. No way! She would never....

The horrified look on her face told him otherwise. Shocked into silence and stillness, he barely felt his fingers release the stake in his hand or heard it hit the sidewalk. He blinked and turned and walked away, then heard another set of feet hit the pavement at a run - Buffy - leaving Anya and Spike alone on the corner.

"What the hell just happened back there?" he asked aloud, wandering the Sunnydale streets, unconcerned for his own welfare. "What has been going on with my friends that they can't talk to me anymore? Or me to them? Have we all fallen that far apart? That we have to, instead, resort to dark magic and vampire sex to fix our problems? Or ignore them? My life is so fucked up." He stuffed his hands in his pockets, kept his head down and walked.

Thinking and walking, he found himself at Spike's crypt. He frowned at the door, not wanting to be there, not wanting to be anywhere else. There had to have been a reason to come here. Why he had made a sub-conscious decision to walk around town long enough for Spike to, maybe, get back to his crypt, then walk here himself. He sighed and knocked on the door.

The door opened and there he was, the tall, lean, bleached vampire in black jeans, black boots and black T-shirt, cigarette dangling from his lips. "What the fuck do you want? Here to try hackin' off m'head again?" Spike asked around the cigarette, a heavy snarl in his tone.

Xander shook his head. "No. I wanted to talk to you."

"Yeah? Too bad. Sod off." The vampire made to slam the door, but stopped when Xander reached a hand out to it. "Look, mate, I'm not in the mood for company, so go hang out with your girlie mates.""You stupid son-of-a-bitch! I've had about enough of your shit for one lifetime. You lying asshole! You told me you weren't sleeping with Buffy, but you were. And now you make it with my ex- on a table?"

Spike frowned deep. "Since when is it any of your business who I'm doing and why? Thought you couldn't do this anymore."

"You and I... and all year... but you told me there was nothing... and now with Anya...."

"Go home, Harris. I don't need the lot of you."

Xander took a deep breath. "Look, I have some things I need to say to you and I'm not leaving until I've said them."

The vampire quirked an eyebrow and stepped backwards down the stairs, inviting him inside with a slight wave of a hand. Xander entered and waited at the base of the steps. Spike leaned against a support column, smoking his cigarette.

Another deep breath and he was as ready as he was going to be. "Spike, I don't hate you, but after what just happened, there is no way we can go back to what we had. Whatever you feel for Buffy, you can't get past enough to be with me. I don't love you, I'm not in love with you, but the way we were doing this thing was wrong." He stopped to breathe and let Spike speak if he wanted.

He apparently wanted: "Thought we were having fun?"

"Yeah, but at the expense of betraying and losing my friends? No. I don't want that."

The vampire's face remained stoic. "You." Spike removed the cigarette from his lips. "You could have told your friends at any time, Harris."

"And you could have told me you were sleeping with Buffy," he snapped.

"Would it have bothered you?"

"Probably. But we could have talked about it!" He was yelling; he was angry.

"Like we are now? Like, obviously, you and Buffy did prior to tonight?" the vampire snarked.

"That's not the point! I can't make Buffy talk to me if she doesn't want to."

"No, but why didn't she want to talk to you?"

His mouth dropped open, then snapped shut again.

Spike smirked. "That's what I thought." The vampire shook his head. "Get out."

"Spike..."

"GET. OUT."

He blinked, turned and left the crypt. That went well. He made his way home, alone, in the dark, same as usual. This time, however, he had the 'I'm a bad friend' vibe hanging over his head. Buffy had not wanted to talk to him, or Willow, even, about sleeping with Spike because she knew the reaction she would have gotten. One very similar to his from tonight - shock and disappointment. Shit.

His bed was cold and empty; the apartment dark and silent. He tugged the covers over his head and tried to sleep. Tried. Hard. Eyes wide open, he folded the covers down and stared at the ceiling.

His stupid subconscious started beating him up again:

What's really got you pissed? That Spike slept with Anya or that he had been sleeping with Buffy and right about your reaction to it?

You want him and can't have him or is it that you want him and don't want to?

"Fuck it," he snarled and rolled out of bed, padded to the window and peeked through the curtains. A lone figure wearing a black duster. "Shit. What's he doing here?" The shock of white-blond hair confirmed it, if the duster had not been enough. Xander stood back from the window, mostly hidden by the mostly drawn curtains, but able to see the figure on the lawn.

The figure who still made his body tingle at the thought of those strong hands touching him. Still set the butterflies to dancing in his stomach at the memory of each time they share quiet - and not-so-quiet - intimate moments together. He did not wish the bleached ass any ill will, he just could not justify being with him only for sex.

Maybe if they were friends. But he could not even find a basis for that. I don't hate you, Spike, but it was a bad idea.

"Take care of yourself, Spike," he said to the window, toward the man by the tree and he thought he saw the blond vampire nod before he turned and walked away.

End