Unacceptable Losses

Disclaimer: All characters and references to BtVS and AtS storylines belong to Joss and Mutant Enemy and all the other folks with valid legal claims. Not mine. No claims on 'em, and no money made from playing with 'em, but innit fun?

Buffy bones. Little bits of Buffy bones. Xander stared at the dust and specs of white as Giles tipped the urn carefully, spreading the ashes over the flowers that surrounded the newly completed Sunnydale memorial. How ironic was it that the planners placed the memorial directly over the Hellmouth? Of course, they probably thought they were simply putting it over the epicenter of the quake, bomb, undiscovered volcano or whatever theory was currently making the rounds. The ashes and bits of bone slid over the petals and leaves to rest in the dirt below. Xander concentrated on clamping down the anguish that surged with the bile in his throat, but he couldn’t avert his eyes from the tiny square of bone that rested on a red geranium petal.

“Rest at last,” Giles spoke quietly as he placed the lid back on the emptied urn.

“Rest eternally,” Willow responded. A gentle violet arc indicated the warding blessing over the memorial.

Xander closed his eye, still seeing the red and white image of bone on petal burned into his brain. He swallowed past the lump in his throat. Pain hadn’t lessened in the year since he watched the demon kill her. This final burial, according to Buffy’s own wishes, had promised to bring closure to all of them, but for Xander, it deepened wounds that had never fully closed.

“Hey,” Willow touched his arm, “We’re heading back to the hotel now. See you there?”

Xander nodded without opening his eye. He knew that as soon as he did the tears held inside would fall, and he couldn’t bear the hugs and comforting noises that would bring from his oldest friend. He listened to the sounds of others moving off into the deepening dark, car doors opening and closing, quiet murmurs.

From his place under the ornate lamp post, Spike watched the mourners split apart and climb into cars, sharing hugs and quiet words. He shook his head slightly at Angel’s questioning frown. Angel shot a glance at the lone man standing beside the memorial and then looked back at the blonde vampire resting lounged against a light post. He returned the nod and joined the currently human appearing Illyria to return to the hotel with the rest. Spike returned to watching the still figure.

Gradually silence took over, creeping around him, and Xander welcomed its empty embrace. Unmoving, eye closed, he let the gradual chilling of the air prickle across his cheeks and fingers, whisping inside the light pea coat that hung unbuttoned in deference to the Southern California climate. He focused on the chill and the rhythmic in and out of his breath, keeping his thoughts as still as his body. Finally, he recognized that if he didn’t put in an appearance in the hotel soon, someone would be dispatched to find him. The Hellmouth might be closed, but a decade of keeping tabs on one another would have concerned friends making sure he hadn’t been waylaid by some hungry beastie.

Xander opened his eye and jumped back a foot.

“Sweet creeping tea biscuits Spike! You ever think it might be a good idea not to sneak up on people on a Hellmouth?” He stalked away from the silent figure observing him across the flowered memorial. Casting a dismissive glance at his car, he decided that walking offered the chance to excise the tension that suddenly returned full-force. Sure it would make him even later getting to the hotel, but if he got lucky there would be at least a vamp or two to stake along the way. He gripped the stake in his pocket and strode across the park, battling the increasingly familiar need to hit out at something.

Three blocks away, he finally turned back to acknowledge his vampire shadow.

“Whatever you have to say, say it and fuck off.” He glared daggers. Spike slid through the shadows and came to stand before the angry human. He cocked his head and ran his eyes over the gaunt figure before casually stepping back and shaking a cigarette out of the pack he pulled from a duster pocket.

“Fine. Nothing to say, then just fuck off already.” He cursed the slight tremor that undercut the vicious comment, and he flicked his gaze to the surrounding night.

Without a word, Spike lit the cigarette and held out it out like a peace offering.

“Don’t.” Xander still didn’t meet the vampire’s eyes.

The pale fingers didn’t retract the offering. For a long moment they stood under the flickering streetlight, the glowing ember casting listless curls of smoke through the cool air.

Xander let out a disgusted sigh and released the death grip on his stake, jerking his hand out to take the cigarette. He took a long angry draw, enjoying the thought of the cilia in his lungs shrinking back and wilting under the nicotine assault. Focused on the blowing out the smoke in a slow, smooth stream, he dimly recognized the familiar movements of the vampire lighting his own cigarette. Xander sat down heavily on the curb, resting his arms on his knees and hanging his head.

“Would you at least say something?” Defeat colored his voice.

“’M not the one that needs to talk, I’m thinking.” Spike smoothly settled against the lamppost, elegantly drawing in and blowing out smoke.

“Nothing to say here either, buddy. Buffy died. We had brought her back to be buried on the Hellmouth on the one year anniversary just like she wanted. Tonight, we’re all going back to the hotel to have a big group cry and laugh and do-you-remember-when fest. What, were you not invited?” The biting comment didn’t appear to faze the vampire at all. He continued to watch Xander fidget on the curb.

“Could say they left me to make sure you didn’t get your scrawny arse eaten by some lingering nasty, but we both know that’d be a lie.”

Xander looked at him sharply before staring back down at the cigarette burning between his fingers. He took another angry drag. Of course, they didn’t leave Spike behind to watch him. Like the vampire would take on that kind of duty anyway. They hadn’t spoken since the fall of Sunnydale so many years before, and he had hardly been the vampire’s bestest bud then. Besides, Willow would doubtless have checked in on him a couple of times with the locator spells that she seemed to find so effortless these days. Any sign of danger and no doubt the small army of slayers that came with them from England would have been dispatched to his rescue.

“Then enlighten me, oh bleached one. Why the fuck are you here?” This time exhaustion outweighed anger. Xander didn’t have the energy to keep up the anger, and at the moment, he wanted nothing more than to be safely ensconced in his hotel room where a brand-spanking-new bottle of Johnnie Walker Black awaited him, all praise be to duty free shopping.

“Why aren’t you walking away?” Spike gently tossed the question back.

“Whatever this is, just don’t.”

“Said that before, mate. What is it that you don’t want me doing?”

Xander stood and took a last drag on the cigarette before stomping out the butt in the street.

“Anything. I don’t need anything from you, Spike. I don’t need anything from anyone. We fight the baddies, sometimes we win, sometimes we don’t. Life goes on.” He shrugged the coat closer around himself, hands jammed in the pockets. “Life always goes on.” Without looking back, he strode off toward the hotel and the promise of drunken oblivion that was his reward for making this trip back to the mouth of Hell.

Spike nodded to himself. He pulled out his cell phone and pressed 2 on the speed dial. As the voice on the other end offered an anxious hello, he returned a single comment.

“Do it.” He snapped the phone closed and melted into the shadows, making his own way back to the hotel.