Unacceptable Losses

Replacing the cap on the healing salve, Spike took satisfaction in the relaxed posture of the man before him. Sometime after the tears ended, Xander had succumbed to sleep. Sighing, he pulled a blanket over the prone figure. Looks like further conversation was out for the evening. Perhaps that was for the best, Spike acknowledged to himself, boy hadn’t slept well his entire tenure in Los Angeles and probably not before that either. He ran a gentle hand over dark, unruly curls before levering himself off the bed and leaving the room, shutting the door quietly behind him.

********************

Banging on the door to his room pulled Xander from the first sound sleep he had had in nearly a year. Without waiting for an invitation, Angel slammed the door open.

“Check out time. Get your bags and get out.” Clearly the night spent bludgeoning the demon population of LA hadn’t dampened the vampire’s determination to be rid of one Xander Harris.

Bitter anger had Xander sitting up and glaring daggers at the hulking figure.

“Safe to say you don’t get a four-star rating from Zagat’s,” he snarked.

“You. Out. Now.”

“Have the concierge call me a cab,” Xander sneered as he shoved back the covers and stalked over to the closet, yanking clothes from the rack and shoving them into his bag.

Angel stood in the doorway, watching and ignoring the twinges of guilt that pricked at him. This was his hotel, his home, dammit, and he had every right to determine who stayed and who left. Only that wasn’t exactly true, was it? Faith and Dawn had bullied their way in, dragging Harris along with them. While he couldn’t evict the two women, he thought he had a chance with Harris. Besides, the move might have the added benefit of pissing off everyone else who seemed so determined to take care of the broken man. Pissing them off enough to leave him alone. And that was all he really wanted—didn’t seem like too much to ask for after averting yet another apocalypse. Unwittingly, he growled.

“Fuck off, Deadboy. Packing as fast as humanly possible. Not like I don’t relish the chance to get away from this place.”

Angel took in the shaking fingers and jerky movements. He scented the air and registered the shame, misery, and defeat that radiated more strongly than the anger that colored Xander’s words. Before he could say anything, Xander shoved the last shirt into the bag and pulled the zipper closed. He stood and pushed past the vampire, dropping the bag at Angel’s feet.

“Take the bags to the car, bellhop,” Xander continued walking down the hall to the staircase, leaving the growling vampire behind him. He struggled to keep himself from reacting to the eviction. He wanted this, he reminded himself. He would be free of all the concern and coddling of his well-meaning friends. And they would be free of him. No more causing them pain. He focused on not stumbling down the stairs because wouldn’t that be just too embarrassing to have his last moments in the Hyperion consist of falling on his face while brood-boy stood over him, laughing at his idiocy.

Just as he congratulated himself on his dignified exit, Xander nearly tripped backwards as he confronted the green-skinned demon in a purple suit striding into the lobby.

“You hoo! Paying customer looking for a champion!”

“Gah!”

Lorne looked at the teetering man and reached out a hand to steady him. Having the demon reach out for him startled Xander into another step backwards. He banged his heel on the bottom step and went down hard on his ass.

“Sorry, sweetcheeks.” Lorne immediately apologized. He stretched out a hand to help Xander up, but before either man could react, Angel’s voice cut through the lobby.

“Lorne.”

“Angel.”

Xander struggled to his feet and quickly removed himself from between the two demons. Wow, and he thought the air had already reached the saturation point for tension. But the appearance of this guy ratcheted it up to thunderstorm level.

Angel stomped down the stairs, and dammit, Xander thought, didn’t that man ever just walk anywhere? He reached the bottom and tossed Xander’s bag to the floor, next to the lobby door. Looks like whatever the interruption that going on, it wasn’t going to stop him from tossing his least favorite human out on the street.

“Lorne! Hey there big green!” Faith came out from around the desk to greet the demon. “How’s it hanging?”

Lorne turned away from Angel’s intense stare to face the slayer. “Faith! I didn’t expect to find you in our lovely city again anytime soon after the last time.” He shot a glare Angel’s direction.

“Bygones and all that,” she shrugged. “We heard AI hit a bit of trouble with the Wolfram and Hart folks again to the tune of a minor apocalypse. So a couple of us broke ranks to join with the underdog. You know me, always up for a good fight.”

“Yeah, you always were one for the extreme measures,” he grinned. “It’s good to see you. Is the big lug giving you a hard time?”

“Hey. Standing right here.” Angel grumbled.

“So what brings you back here?” Faith hopped up on the counter, watching Lorne with an expectant gleam in her eye. Better and better. They had been trying to get Angel in contact with Lorne over this whole prophecy thing, and it looked like the powers were still on their side.

Lorne glanced at Angel guiltily, “I’d rather only go through this once, so maybe we should gather the team first?”

“Guess that’s my cue to take off,” Xander walked to the door and hefted his bag.

“And where do you think you’re going?” Faith swung her penetrating gaze to take in the defiant figure.

“He’s leaving.” Angel’s tone brooked no argument.

“Your idea?” Faith asked evenly. At Angel’s nod, she cocked her head as if considering her options.

“Dawn! Spike!” Faith’s bellow rang through the lobby, causing the other three to cringe.

“What crawled up yer arse, slayer?” Spike snarled as he appeared on the balcony overlooking the lobby. Snarling turned to a grin as he saw Lorne standing in the doorway. “’Bout time you showed up, green man.”

“Spike. Xander’s leaving.” Faith broke through the greetings.

Xander rolled his eyes and fidgeted with his bag. He wondered if there had been a moment when he could have just slipped out. Angel wanted him gone. He wanted away from the smothering care of one peroxide vamp. Seemed like a win-win.

Eschewing the stairs, Spike leapt over the railing and landed gracefully on the lobby floor. He sauntered over to join Faith at the desk.

“Oh, he is, is he?” The sharp gaze settled on Xander, taking in the defensive posture. “This your idea, pet?”

“He goes.” Angel stated.

Spike flicked a glare at his Sire.

“This is my house, Spike. And I want him gone.”

Dawn came in from the kitchen in time to hear the last comment. She paused as she took in the tableau: Faith and Spike against the counter standing off against Angel, who stood at the bottom of the staircase with arms crossed and brow lowered while Xander seemed to shrink against the lobby doors. Finally her gaze came to rest on the newest arrival. Making up her mind, she crossed the room and held out her hand.

“I’m Dawn. Welcome to Angel Investigations. What can we do for you?”

Lorne graciously bent to kiss the back of her hand, ignoring the knowing snort from Spike and gaping from Xander and Angel. Clearly it took more than a grumpy Champion to cow this one.

“Actually,” Lorne stated, glancing around the room, “It’s beginning to sound like we might be able to help one another.” He caught Faith’s eye, “This the whole team?”

She nodded, “If we need her blueness, we’ll fill her in the next time she lowers herself to mingle with the common folk.”

“Well, kiddies, settle in and let Uncle Lorne tell you a story.”

“Hold up a minute. What’s this about Xander leaving?” Spike demanded.

“Later, blondie. Looks like we’ve got a case. The PTB’s take precedence over family squabbles.” Faith settled herself back on the counter to listen.

Spike took the opportunity to cross the lobby and grab Xander by the arm, dragging him to the couch. He growled low at Angel as he walked past him.

“Sit.” Spike shoved Xander down and settled on the couch next to him, earning him a angry glare.

Outnumbered in his own hotel, Angel chose to express his displeasure by standing apart from the others, leaning against one of the columns at the base of the stairs.

“Right, then.” Lorne shifted awkwardly. “How do you feel about ghost stories?”