Unacceptable Losses

Xander glanced around the room, taking in the empty appearance. Alone but not really by himself. This was what he wanted, wasn’t it? To be left alone?

“Fuck this,” he muttered. No introspection, no thinking at all, in fact. He strode into the kitchen, slamming open cupboards, only to be mocked by their emptiness. Throwing himself into a chair, he leaned over to gently bang his head against the tabletop. A soft rustling of paper sliding across the table caused him to sit up suddenly. He grinned.

“Pink Dot. Deliverer of salty goodness and, even better, beer.” He flipped through the menu as he levered himself to his feet and pulled his cell phone from his pocket.

He flashed a smirk at the apartment at large. “Dennis, my man, I think this is going to be the beginning of a beautiful friendship.”

Forty-five minutes later, Xander ripped open a bag of tortilla chips, unscrewed the lid off a jar of salsa, and sat on the couch with a bottle of Jose Cuervo Gold balanced between his knees and a six-pack of Corona on the end-table to his left. To his delight, the TV had a satellite hookup, and he found a science fiction channel running a Star Trek DS9 marathon.

Two hours, six beers, and half a bottle of tequila later, Xander never felt Dennis carefully drape a blanket over him where he lay passed-out on the couch.

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

“Uunngh,” Xander groaned and rolled into a sitting position. Fuck. Hangover déjà vu. He glanced down at the blanket tangling his feet. “Huh.” He looked around. No empty bottles strewn about. He wrinkled his brow and straightened his eye patch. Running his fingers over his mussed hair, he looked around again and listened for signs of life.

“Hello?”

A cool wind brushed across his face.

“Oh. Guess I kinda checked out on you, last night.” He stared blankly. Having a conversation with someone invisible, while not an entirely new experience (and how many people had the luxury of saying that?), was distinctly unnerving in that he had no idea where to look.

“Thanks for, um,” he waved vaguely at the blanket and tidy apartment. “taking care of things.” He levered himself to his feet and groaned softly. Why couldn’t building up an alcohol tolerance come with building up a hangover tolerance at the same time?

Xander dropped the blanket to the couch and staggered to the bathroom. While he didn’t anticipate immediate vomiting—and thank whatever gods watched out for self-destructive assholes—he desperately needed to brush his teeth.

Flipping on the light, he winced and reached for his toiletry bag. He rummaged around for toothbrush and toothpaste. Finally, he braved looking at the mirror and winced again. Fuck. He hadn’t looked this bad since the day Spike dragged him to the Hyperion. Bristle covered his chin and cheeks, and his good eye stared back haggard and hopeless. Somewhere between the six-pack and the bottle of tequila, he had given in to the comforting presence of the mournful ghost and talked, haltingly and without great detail, about his sorrow and guilt, reminisced about Cordelia, about Buffy, about Anya. Loves lost. Lives taken. Tears had fallen fast and hard, leaving him with a red rimmed eye with sunken bruises underneath.

“God, Harris, you fucking asshole.” He turned from the mirror and brushed vigorously, scouring at the taste of stale beer and pain, as he turned the shower on. Spit. Rinse. He could manage that much. Shucking his clothes into a messy pile on the floor, he climbed into the shower and rested his head against the cool tile as the hot water pounded down on his back.

Unnoticed by the man in the shower, his clothes appeared to fold themselves, and a glass of water and two Tylenol floated in to settle on the bathroom sink.

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

Grumbling and shaking out his coat, Spike batted away the smoke that rose from his body. Dawn giggled at his antics as she balanced the bag of groceries in her arms.

“I don’t know what there is to laugh about, Bit.”

“It’s like you take it as a personal insult that the sun burns you.” She nodded toward the door. “Gonna knock? Hands are kinda full here.”

“Yeah, well, you try burnin’ up just for walking outside at the wrong time of day, and see how much you like it,” he growled, but without any real heat. He pounded on the door with more force than necessary.

“Don’t know why we have to knock. Not like Lorne didn’t give us the spare key.”

“Because it’s polite. And because I really don’t want to walk in on Xander hanging out doing naked guy things.” She blushed.

“Naked guy things?” He lifted an eyebrow.

She tilted her chin up and refused to say anymore. They waited a long moment.

“You don’t think he, you know, left or anything, do you?” Spike felt the worry that underlined her question. It was the same worry that had him agreeing to bring her to the apartment at a time when he normally would be sleeping.

“Nah, prolly still in bed. Whelp sleeps like the dead.” He shrugged nonchalantly, but could see that she wasn’t buying it. He dug in the pocket of his jeans for the key, but before he could pull it out, they heard locks turning and the door opened.

“Um, hello?” Dawn asked hesitantly to the open air.

“Dawn, meet Dennis. Dennis, this is Dawn, ‘nother friend of Xander’s.” Spike relieved Dawn of the grocery bags and strode into the apartment, hoping that the trepidation he felt at the ghost opening the door didn’t show.

“Oh!” she exclaimed brightly. “Good to meet you. Lorne told us all about you.” She continued to chatter at him as she took in the apartment. Spike left them to it, settling the grocery bags in the kitchen and catching the sound of water running in the bathroom.

“Sounds like he’s in the shower. I’ll pop in and give him a head’s up that a lady,” he smirked, “is present. So no naked guy things.”

Dawn stuck her tongue out at him and continued to exclaim over the décor and ask Dennis about himself and how he liked having a new roommate.

The vampire stood outside the bathroom door, attempting to get as much information as he could before knocking. Just silence under the pounding spray. He could still detect the remnants of beer and tequila. Whelp must have had his own little housewarming party last night. He sighed and reminded himself that at least Xander was still here, even if he was clearly back on the path of alcohol poisoning.

Xander startled at the hesitant knocking on the bathroom door. He whipped his head around and stifled a groan as head and stomach rebelled against the quick action.

“Dennis?” Incredulity laced his tone.

Spike cracked the door open. “Nah, no ghost, just a vamp and his girl come to see the new pad.”

“Spike?” Xander fumbled with the soap, feeling very naked behind the fluttering shower curtain.

The vampire slid the rest of the way into the small bathroom, clicking the door shut. He reveled silently in the steamy heat and breathed in Xander’s scent.

“Just wanted to give you fair warning. So you don’t walk out starkers and scar the Bit.”

“Um, thanks. Give me a couple minutes to finish up in here, k?” He looked with dismay at his morning erection that suddenly seemed to have found a new lease on life.

“Sure thing, mate.” Spike grinned knowingly and enjoyed the pheromones that rode the thick air. He opened the door and tossed back over his shoulder, “Let me know if you need a hand with anything.” Closing the door gently, he ignored the prodding of his soul that told him it was unkind to tease the hung-over human and instead enjoyed the scent of arousal that followed him out of the bathroom.

Hearing the door click shut, Xander twitched the shower curtain aside to make sure that he really was alone before cursing softly and reaching down to take his now urgent erection in hand. Hardly the best cure for his hang-over, but if Spike thought him walking out naked would scar Dawn, walking out with a hard-on the size of Texas would have her in therapy for years. At least, that’s what he told himself as he braced himself against the wall and tugged on his cock, running Spike’s offer to help through his head until he shot harshly against the wall, blanking out all thought.