Things That Go Bump in the Night

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Chapter Twenty
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As they slowly made their way up the stairs, Buffy laughed at Richie's nearly horrified expression. Admittedly, she hadn't gone into *much* detail, but it had been enough. Anya's past as a demon was enough to horrify any man -- which the woman in question would boast to anyone willing to listen. She did tell him what she'd been told about Cordelia's wish, but she didn't mention the boils put on painful places she'd also heard about.

"So," he asked, curiosity overcoming his horror, "she suddenly found herself human again after 1100 years, and didn't know how to interact any more?"

"That's about it," Buffy admitted. "It's led to some, hmmmm, how do I put this . . . embarrassing -- for Xander -- moments." She snickered. "Of course, it's led to a couple that weren't too normal for Giles, either," she continued, launching into the story of Anya calling Giles' friend Olivia his 'orgasm friend'.

Richie shook his head, chuckling. "You have . . . um . . . very interesting friends."

Buffy laughed out loud. "And you don't? Adam's quite the character."

"Yeah, well, he's one of a kind," Richie shrugged. **In more ways than one,** he thought privately.

"He'd have to be, to be taking switching bodies with a vampire as well as he seems to be. Personally, *I'd* freak." Buffy stopped, frowned, then bit her lip pensively. "*Is* he taking this as well as he seems to be?"

Richie shrugged again, at something of a loss. "I don't know, Buffy. Adam is past-master at hiding what he's really feeling -- presenting an . . . image to the world. He creates it. He lives it. That's just the way he is."

Buffy nodded slowly. "So, we're just going to have to play it by ear and keep an eye on him," she said, half as question, half as statement of fact.

Richie nodded back. "Yeah, I think so. I wouldn't worry too much, though. He's very good at taking care of himself -- you know, good at coming out on top."

"I'll have to take your word for it. It doesn't seem like he's an easy man to get to know." Buffy grinned then, turning to face Richie squarely. He was different than anyone she'd met before. He seemed so young, yet so sure of himself at the same time. She liked that. "So," she asked, not-so-adroitly changing the subject, "is anyone allowed to attend these training sessions between you and Xander?"

"Not, I think, for the first few sessions. For those, it might be better, easier, for Xander if his friends weren't there."

Disappointed, Buffy nodded. "Oh, okay."

"But," Richie continued, smiling, "the actual weapons training won't take all my time. Maybe after we get Xander past this trouble, and Spike and Adam back to normal -- well as normal as either of them get -- you could show me the sights?"

**Yes!** "I'd like that," Buffy replied shyly, only just keeping her smile from spreading ear to ear.

"I was hoping you would," Richie returned softly, leaning slowly forward.

Tilting her head up slightly, Buffy met him half-way, parting her lips beneath the gentle press of his. He pulled her closer, briefly deepening the kiss before pulling away. "Good night, Buffy."

"Night," she whispered as Richie walked away.

Richie stopped, and turned, a puzzled expression on his face.

"What?"

"What about Spike?"

Buffy opened her mouth with an immediate comeback, but didn't utter it, closing her mouth a moment before answering with a question of her own. "What about him?"

"How does a vampire end up friends with a slayer?"

"He's *so* not a friend," Buffy shot back without thinking.

Richie frowned. "Could have fooled me."
“It's just. . . ." Buffy shrugged, not sure exactly how to explain the strange situation with Spike. "He's harmless."

Richie just looked skeptical.

Buffy sighed and hesitantly began the story of the initiative, beginning to stammer slightly as Richie's horror grew. She didn't understand why he seemed more horrified of the government project than he'd been of Anyanka even. She hadn't even gotten to their betrayal, and secret agendas, yet. "What's wrong?" she asked, laying a gentle hand on his arm.

"Wrong?!" he asked, his voice edging toward hysterical, his skin shuddering beneath her hand. "Every Immortal's nightmare come to life."

Buffy gasped. "That would be bad," she said softly, understanding making her stomach churn as far too vivid images of what the initiative would have done to any Immortals they may have happened across. "But," she continued brightly, a little too brightly, "they're gone, history, finished."

"What happened?"

She shrugged again. "We destroyed them."

Richie nodded, managed a slight smile and a quiet good night before turning away. He did glance over his shoulder before disappearing into his room. "That doesn't explain Spike."

Buffy frowned. What was there to explain. He was a vampire pain in the ass. She couldn't kill him, cuz he couldn't fight back. Half-way back to her own room, she stopped mid-step. She couldn't remember the last time she'd actually threatened to stake Spike -- not that he'd taken the threats seriously anyway. They'd been empty threats born out of frustration and he knew it. **The wanker,** Buffy thought with amusement, wondering what he'd think of being called that -- it being one of his favorite curses.

**Why do I care what he'd think anyway?** She sighed, but couldn't manage to build up the hatred she'd always thought she'd had for the blond menace. When had it become habit instead of reality?

*****

Xander shook his head as he closed the door on Richie and Buffy's kiss. When he'd heard the two of them come up, he'd gone to his door in the hopes of being able to talk with Buffy, but after seeing what he had, he really didn't think that was much of an option tonight. He really didn't think her mind would focus on anything right now -- well, anything short of a full scale apocalypse, anyway. He laughed quietly. He remembered well the early days of Riley Finn. At least this time, he actually liked the guy. Something else he was glad of, was Richie's denial of Buffy's request to be included in the training -- at least for now, he reasoned to himself.

He was nervous enough about making a complete fool of himself. He really didn't want to do it in front of her. She was so good at everything she put her mind to . . . well, maybe except for driving. He shuddered, remembering the first -- and last time -- he'd ridden with her. It hadn't been fun, and he'd sworn he would never do it again, barring life threatening emergencies.

As he prepared for bed his mind raced, his thoughts chasing themselves in frantic circles. By the time he crawled into bed, he couldn't stop them. His primary worry, well, beyond that of fearing for his life, was where was he going to come by a sword. They weren't exactly cheap, nor could you pick them up at the corner market. And didn't you need, like, a license to carry one? He was pretty sure Richie had one he could practice with, but he needed one he could keep.

Angel had lots of weapons, he was sure, but he was equally sure they were, like, antiques or something. It was a good bet that they were *real* expensive, at the very least. Add to that, he wanted, in absolutely no way, to owe the souled vampire. That would be . . . well, in Xander's opinion, in no way of the good. He wasn't even happy about him knowing what had happened, let alone did Xander what him to contribute anything.

**Damn it!**

This was getting him nowhere! Xander tried to clear his mind, to think of nothing. He almost succeeded, then thoughts of Anya popped back up. He sighed. What *was* he going to tell her, anyway? *How* was he going to tell her? Was this a romantic candle lit dinner kind of announcement? **No,** he thought instantly. Was this a 'We need to talk.' announcement. **NO!** he thought vehemently an instant later. That would just make her panic, thinking he was going to break up with her. That would *definitely* not be the way to start out the conversation. Coming no closer to figuring it out, Xander's mind relentlessly moved to another topic.


How would she handle it when he did tell her? Would she freak? **Oh, God!** Would she leave him? A sudden thought occurred to him. Maybe she already knew about Immortals. She had lived an awfully long time -- a demon with access to all sorts of information *mere* mortals couldn't. It was even possible she'd met Immortals. Panic threatening to overwhelm him again, Xander ponder his new line of thought. Unfortunately, he couldn't decide if the possibility of her having met Immortals helped, or hurt, his case.

She already didn't like the danger they lived under, what with being part of the Scooby gang. Would this final, additional, danger be too much for her? God! He hoped not. He hadn't been kidding when he'd told Richie that their relationship was getting serious. He was . . . occasionally . . . getting flashes of seeing them together for the rest of their lives.

Xander paled, his stomach clenching. *Her* life -- the rest of *her* life. He was Immortal, she wasn't. That meant-- His thoughts ground to a halt, a hard, painful lump forming in his throat. That meant he was going to lose her. Even if she did stay with him now, he'd lose her later. A heartbroken sob escaped him as his mind stubbornly refused to stop sending him images of the many, many ways he could lose her -- and *finally* he suddenly understood her sometimes obsessive fear of death.

She could get sick. She could be in a car accident. She could die in a fight with a demon. She could die of . . . old age, while he stayed young -- forever young. Or, he thought with a gulp, she could leave him. He didn't know what would be worse, losing her to death, or losing her because she simply walked away. Angrily dashing away tears he was glad no one else had seen, he jumped back out of bed.

"What? I don't have *enough* trouble that I have to make up problems that haven't even happened yet?" he berated himself. Swallowing hard, Xander took a deep breath, letting it out slowly, just as Adam had shown him. It helped a little, but didn't make the tense, almost painful, sickly feeling in his gut go away. It was then he realized that it was going to be a very long night.

**What was your first clue?** he asked himself sarcastically, hating what his life had suddenly become.

Jerking his clothing on, Xander stormed out of his room, knowing there was absolutely no way he was going to get to sleep any time soon, no matter *how* tired his body said he was. Shutting the door with exaggerated care, he made sure not to slam it; although, was was exactly what he wanted to do. It would have felt great. It certainly would have relieved some of his tension. There was nothing, quite so satisfying, as the sound of a well-slammed door. Unfortunately, it would have probably woken everyone in the mansion.

No, what he really wanted, Xander realized as he reached the main floor, was to go home. He wanted to go home, climb into his own bed, and simply forget that today ever happened. He couldn't *do* that, of course -- nothing could be that easy. According to prophecy, of all things, the demons would be out to get him for the next couple of nights. Being in danger from demons was nothing new. What with fighting them on a regular basis it was old hat, so to speak. Tonight, however, it was different. It was suddenly personal, and it was one stress too many.

He stared past his reflection in the window, gazing at everything and nothing, his mind still running maniacally from one set of problems to the next.

"Trouble sleeping?"

Xander spun around, hand clenched to his chest as if to hold in his thumping heart. "Damn it, Dead Boy! Make some noise when you do that!"

"Sorry," Angel replied softly, awkwardly coming to stand next to Xander.

"What do you want?" Xander asked, not even bothering to try and be polite. He wasn't in the mood, and it was only the two of them there.

"I've been thinking," Angel responded, not meeting Xander's angry gaze.

"Should I be impressed?" Xander sniped, a little voice deep in the back of his mind asking him if maybe he was being a little unfair. He ignored it.

Angel shook his head, took a deep breath, and continued. "I know you don't like me,--"

"What was your first clue?"

"I know you'd probably rather cut off an arm than accept anything from me,--"

"Easier now. It'd probably grow back." **What is wrong with me tonight? God!**

Angel's mouth tightened for a moment, irritation flitting across the souled vampire's face, but he took another deep breath and continued as if Xander hadn't spoken.

**What does it take to make you go away?** Xander thought acidly.

"But you're going to need a sword, Xander, a good one."

Xander opened his mouth in immediate protest, another zinger all ready, but Angel stopped him with an upraised hand.

"Please, Xander, let me finish. I'm not trying to *give* you anything." He laughed sourly, and shook his head. "If I tried, you'd probably just throw it back in my face."

"Good guess," Xander sneered.

Angel blew out an explosive breath, and turned to leave.

Xander sighed in relief. He wanted to be left alone, not constantly reminded of his new 'status' in life. Unfortunately, it seemed Angel was going to pick tonight, out of all nights in the universe, to suddenly decide he stubbornly wanted to talk. The vampire turned back and faced him squarely, this time locking eyes with him.

"I'm not even doing this for you," Angel snapped angrily, obviously finally losing his temper. "I'm doing it for Buffy, and Willow, and Cordelia, and anyone else who might be upset if you died -- permanently. I want to *loan* you a sword, Xander, until you can get a good one of your own."

"I don't want anything from--"

"From me," Angel interrupted bitterly, " yeah, I know. But guess what? It doesn't look like you have a lot of options."

Xander shook his head, not sure himself, even, if he was agreeing that he had no options, or denying what Angel was saying.

"Damn it all, Xander," Angel shouted, then winced slightly, continuing more quietly. "You won't 'owe' me anything. You won't be 'indebted' to me. I told you, I'm doing it for them. Think of *them*, Xander."

When Xander didn't reply, merely turning back to face the window instead, Angel sighed and turned away, heading toward the door as silently as he'd entered.

**I'm an idiot!** Xander thought in angry frustration. **Ever hear of the phrase 'cutting off your nose to spite your face', Harris?**

"De--Angel?" he said quietly, turning to find that the vampire had stopped in the doorway at his call. He swallowed, more to shove down his stubborn pride than from any true need to clear his mouth or throat -- Angel had even offered in such a way that he *could* keep pri pride. "Thank you."

Angel nodded slightly, the smallest of smiles playing across his mouth. "I've still got quite a collection here, if you'd like to look at them," he offered. "I mean," he continued in hurried explanation, shoulders hunched -- as if he was afraid Xander would lash out again, "since it seems you're having trouble sleeping anyway."

**Angel, afraid of me? Now that's a laugh,** Xander thought, but couldn't quite get rid of the thought that perhaps Angel was just as uncertain of his place in the world as Xander was. It was . . . disconcerting to realize he might actually have something in common with the vampire. Forcing himself to move from his position at the window, Xander headed toward the vampire he'd seen as more of a threat to those around him than any other, and that *included* Spike. This one had pulled them apart from within. In front of him, Angel turned away once again, this time, leading him to a part of the mansion he'd never seen before.

"I never knew that door was there," he said, trying, for once, to be polite. He figured it was the least he could do . . . considering.

Angel nodded, turning his head slightly. "Most people don't. It's very well hidden."

Xander stepped into the room, and froze in the doorway. Even Giles' collection of weapons couldn't compete with this. "Wow!" he breathed, finally stepping further into the room, allowing Angel to do the same.

"I've been collecting a long time," Angel replied evenly, shrugging away Xander's awe.

Wandering around the room, checking out one wall at a time, Xander's eyes were glued to the myriad of weapons on display. Most were swords, but there were axes of all descriptions, and staves, -- he hadn't known there were that many different kinds -- as well as several weapons that looked like they belonged in a martial arts museum, though he had no name for most of them. Even he could tell they were worth a small fortune. He laughed quietly. It was more likely they were worth several small fortunes. Coming to a stop back at the beginning, Xander shrugged rather sheepishly, not willing to meet Angel's gaze. "I love swords, but I don't really know anything about them," he said, waving a hand vaguely toward the walls full of weapons. "I don't know which one would be best."

Angel nodded once, and stepping around Xander, he efficiently drew down three slightly different swords. To Xander's inexpert eye, they all appeared very similar in style, each varying mainly in size.

"You're not a small man, Xander," Angel said, returning to his side carrying all three weapons, "and you've put on on quite a bit of muscle in the last year. I figure a broad sword would be a good one for you, but you'll want to start with of thf the lighter, slightly smaller styles, and work your way up to the larger, heavy style."

Xander nodded. It certainly made sense to him. "May I?" he asked, pointing to the smallest of the three.

Angel nodded, holding out the scabbarded sword.

Xander grabbed hold of the hilt and carefully withdrew it from Angel's hands. The tip dropped down immediately. It was quite a bit heavier than he'd expecte to to be.

Angel grinned. "All three of these are made from good Damascus steel -- they're solid and strong."

"I bet!" Xander replied, an excitement growing inside himself despite everything. Then, he looked from the three swords, which were obviously going to be a far heavier burden than he'd imagined, to the door.

"I'll help you take them to your room . . . if you like."

Xander nodded his acceptance. "Yes, and. . . ." He paused a moment, then continued sincerely. "Thank you."

Angel smiled, and Xander was startled to note that it changed the souled vampire's entire look. "You're welcome, Xander."