Old Enemies... (S/X)

**DISCLAIMERS in part 1**

Part 2
Harrison Alexander sighed softly as he walked into his two bedroom apartment in upper Northwest DC.
His agent Elliot had just dropped him off. For some reason, the DMV in Washington didn't want to let him have a driver's license. Possibly because he was missing an eye and possibly because of his driving record. Either way, he figured he was lucky to have become successful enough that he could call on his agent to drive him around.
Even so, it was somewhat degrading. He was able to see well enough that he should at least have been given a provisional license. Daytime only would have been fine.
As it was, he ran the risk of getting arrested every time he took his new Jag out, which was exactly why Elliot had insisted on driving him to and from the press thing. And waited while he had dinner with the reporter before driving her back to her hotel, then him to home.
Harrison Alexander. He sighed.
He knew the new Watcher's Council couldn't take a chance on him exposing them. Even with changing his name a bit, he was surprised they hadn't protested. Hell, he was amazed that they hadn't ordered him to stop writing the books.
Not that he would have listened, but still.
He'd been writing mostly as some sort of therapy, he thought. So he could find a way to accept himself and the things he'd done. Or not done, he admitted.
He'd never admitted his attraction to certain of his colleagues. Never admitted that he'd been hateful to them because he'd wanted them. First Angel, who'd had eyes only for the Slayer, and then... a little later... Spike. Even with Anya, he'd wanted him. Anya... was just another indicator. He should have...
It had taken him years to realize that he was drawn to demons. For the longest time, he'd blamed it on the Hellmouth.
It wasn't until that night... that horrible night... the night he and his friends managed to keep the world from ending...
Xander groaned and curled into his pillow, trying not to think about it. It had been six years and... he'd moved on.
He tried to force himself to sleep, and once he managed to do it even half way, that was even worse.
He saw again the fight in the old High School... saw again Spike from his eavesdropping spot at the top of the stairs before it all went fiery.
"I love you," Buffy had said, and Xander wished it was him there saying that to Spike, even though he hadn't known it then.
"No you don't," he'd heard the blond vampire respond, "But thanks for saying it..."
He remembered his heart skipping a good beat or two when Spike looked up towards where he was hiding, but then...
Then the flames came, and the long, drawn-out scream... and then Spike was gone. Eaten from the inside for a love that would never be.
And, Xander admitted privately, even if Spike had been talking to him, it would have been the same.
He hadn't truly known that he loved Spike until after he was gone.

And thank GODS he hadn't married Anya.
If he had, he'd be dead by now.
He had a sneaking suspicion that she might have had a problem with his inherent desire for lean, cut, cocky blonds of the male variety by now. Or even worse, would want to join in... assuming a different end to things, anyway.
He spared a sad, small smile for Anya, wherever she was. Did demons go to Heaven, even if they died saving the world? He had no idea.
"Gods," he said softly, and not for the first time, "Grant her happiness and peace."
His eyes closed tiredly as he slipped off completely, for some reason imagining all the things he wished he'd done before he'd lost his world.
Whether he defined his world as the blond vampire occupying his mind was another question entirely. He could just as easily have meant his hometown. He'd been very careful not to look too deeply into that question. He was honestly afraid of what he might find out if he asked himself and actually gave himself an honest answer.
Besides… he’d built himself a new world, this one with very little involvement of demons or Slayers. Except for the rare occasion when one of the old crowd called him. And he figured that was… if not good, then at least okay.
* * * * *
It was the ringing of his phone that dragged him from yet another sweaty, moaning dream and he groaned deeply as he reached for the receiver. He pressed it confusedly to his ear, calling "hello? Hello?" into it before he grunted and reversed it until the mouthpiece was actually by his mouth. "Wha...?" he said, trying again.
"Jesus Christ, Harris... do you even know what time it is? You CAN'T still be sleeping, right?"
Harrison sat up suddenly, his eye finding the clock across the room. "SHIT! I... sorry, Elliot! I overslept. Give me five minutes and I'll be down, okay?"
He forced himself to jump from the bed, then tossed the phone down once he hit the disconnect button. He didn't think he could actually shower, shave, dress and be out the door that quickly but he was for damned sure going to give it his best shot.
Fifteen minutes later he stepped from his apartment, locking the door behind him. His laptop was slung over one shoulder in its case while the other shoulder supported the carry on bag he'd packed two days earlier. There was no way he could miss this damned signing in New York. Even if it HAD interrupted a very good dream.
"Sorry, guy," he said sheepishly as he climbed into Elliot's Mercedes, "I swear I set the alarm this time..."
Elliot laughed, his pale blue eyes crinkling at the corners as he gunned the engine and headed for the nearest exit to 495. He tossed his head slightly, short blond hair bouncing with the movement as he yelled at another driver who had almost cut him off.
"It's fine, Harris," he said once he'd managed to merge into the next lane, getting in front of the bastard. "I know how hard you sleep, remember?"
The dark haired man chuckled, recalling the three months the two of them had been an item. They'd been good together, he knew, but... Elliot wasn't quite what he truly needed. Too American, for one thing... and too warm.
Besides, the other man had felt it. That he was a stand-in for someone who was gone.
Fortunately, he hadn't been angry about it. If he had been, he never would have stolen the first manuscript and taken it to work for the lead staff to read. And Harris wouldn't have had a carreer.
No, Elliot had told him that he figured it had been fun while it lasted. And the slightly younger one-eyed man had ended up being one of his closest friends, so... it was all good. A good fuck wasn't as hard to find as a good friend. And a good friend who didn't mind the occasional good fuck was even better.
Harris agreed on every level really, so when recognized the tone Elliot had used to say that about knowing how hard he slept, he frowned a little. "Okay... and this is me waiting for the punch line."
The blond had the grace to blush just a little, then laughed. "Our flight's not until eleven. I thought we could use some extra time. Especially considering how often you set that stupid clock-radio for PM instead of AM. You should just hire a service and be done with it. Or better yet, find yourself a man. Or a woman. Whichever you’re currently bothering with.” He winked.
Harris groaned, longish dark hair falling into his eyes as he looked down at his clenched hands, trying his best not to throttle his friend.
"If you knew," he grated out roughly, "how good the dream you pulled me from was, you wouldn't blame me for hitting you right now."
Elliot's pale blond brows rose and he darted a glance at Harris as he took the Dulles Airport exit from the Beltway. "Ohhh... dreaming about HIM again, were you? Guess you ARE in a male phase. So did he put it to you or were you the one driving this time?" he asked smugly. He didn't know who the guy Harris dreamt of was, but he'd be damned if he didn't want to find one like that for himself. All hunger and want... or at least in his friend's dreams.
The brunette sighed and shrugged a bit. "Doesn't really matter, does it? Ashes to ashes, dust to dust. That's what they say, right?"
The conversation fell off as Harris stared out the window of the car for the rest of the short ride to the airport. God knew he loved Elliot. The man was pretty much his best friend these days. But there were still certain things he wasn't ready to tell him. Things he'd NEVER be ready to tell him.