The Stray

PART 4

In all his travels, Spike had never been to Seattle, until the boom of Boeing and Microsoft and all the spin-off industries, it had really been of little significance in America, other than as a port.

Jock’s truck had stopped somewhere east of the main city to do their delivery, late afternoon.

Spike was pulled from the truck as usual and tied to the ring at the front, while Jock and a number of other men used a fork lift and trolleys to unload… Spike could care less. He read ‘Bellevue’ on a few signs around and decided if he could determine which way was ‘up’ from here, he’d take it.

An hour or so later, approaching dusk, they were finished.

Spike knew better than to hesitate when he was untied and ordered into the cabin. The pick up was in the morning, so the truck was parked outside a rather stingy hotel by an industrial estate somewhere in the area close to the depot. Spike had listened carefully to Jock on his mobile as he repeated directions to their destination then caught a long look at the rather tatty map Jock tossed to the ground in frustration as he tried to find the correct route to his hotel for the evening.

They were to stop somewhere in a place called Everett, further north of Seattle city than they had been, Spike knew that much, and tried desperately to memorize the names of the towns or suburbs… whatever to the north of that.

Spike knew Jock was heading back south after the pickup, and had tied him up for the evening then gone for a beer and food. Before he left, he had the sense to fling a few dollars at the son of the hotel owner, and told him to “Give the mutt some water and fling him some dinner scraps if you think of it.”

The boy did as he was told and more, and Spike was given not only tasty meat scraps but rice and some vegetable leftovers all smothered in the remainders of the evening’s gravy. It was a wonderfully sumptuous repast compared to his usual fare. He thanked the boy by wagging his tail and pressing his nose into the boy’s hand. And not long after Jock returned and retired to his room, his escape was made.

Without the sun to guide him he sought out Highway No. 5 and keeping it as much as possible within sight by traveling on parallel roads. Initially it was on his right and he ensured the signs indicated Marysville, then crossed under the highway to head for Stanwood, then Conway. By morning he had traveled nearly thirty two kilometers but still felt relatively fresh as the sun lit the sky in the south east. He would be ever thankful that he had at least retained the ability to read!

Jock would only now be awake and realize ‘the mutt’ was gone. Spike hoped his next dog was a pit bull prepared to bite the hand that occasionally fed him – or better still a Hell Hound… He wondered idly, as he trotted along, if Jock had ever thought of doing a delivery run to Cleveland, they had a nice healthy Hellmouth where he could find himself a mighty ‘attentive’ canine. How the ex vampire wished he still had his true bite, he’d turn the bastard as the lowest minion and give him to the Master of Mexico City to play with.

Spike amused himself for a good hour or two with various revenge scenarios – none of which were practical – but still, it didn’t hurt to dream.

Mount Vernon was a much bigger centre than the ones he had passed through for a few hours, and in daylight, with no owner and no collar – bar for the chewed through rope, which he belatedly realized was still around his neck – he would be seen as a stray if caught. As a consequence he did as he had done in LA and for most of his 140 or so years as a vampire, he kept to the shadows and backstreets, trusting his sense of direction until able to think of something else. He still had no clear idea of where he was going *to*, just that he felt the need to keep moving.

He had successfully navigated through the back streets for a time but needed to re-orientate himself, so headed for the main road again, this time using the sun to the south to navigate. He had just rounded the corner when he realized he was walking past a small local shopping precinct and was suddenly on full alert. He glanced sideways longingly as he passed each of the food shops and was very tempted to pick up the half eaten bagel from the edge of sidewalk, but resisted as it would draw notice to him. It was then he spotted her.

A very young, pretty cocker spaniel was tied up outside the drug store whimpering and occasionally barking pitifully, her owner obviously inside the shop. Spike recognized the sense of abandonment, be it permanent or very temporary, and could not help himself.

He moved cautiously toward her and though she looked decidedly afraid for a moment, he nuzzled her gently and she lay down in a submissive pose calming a little. She could only have been three months old by his reckoning, and Spike’s natural protective nature kicked in with a vengeance. He settled down beside her and made sure she could feel his soft fur, his breathing and heart beat. He may have been dusty and thirsty and hungry, but for now as the little pup snuggled into him and relaxed, he felt strangely happy to be able to do something for a fellow creature.

Her owner was amazed to see a large shepherd/husky cross lying beside her new pet, and did not fail to notice that ‘Bella’ was calm and almost asleep, rather than in distress as she had been for the first few minutes of separation from her owner (her cries audible from inside the shop).

Spike looked up and was ready to bolt but a kind hand reached out – again he sniffed it dutifully before the hand began to scratch behind his ears.

“Now who are you, you lovely thing?” Brenda was a rather portly woman in her mid forties, and had a soft spot for all animals. She didn’t fail to notice signs of neglect and abuse. The thinner than normal frame, the chewed through rope and missing fur and chafe marks around the neck as she gently tugged it loose then removed it completely, and the flinch of pain as she ran her hand over the dog’s thickly furred flank.

Little Bella stirred stood, yawned then wagged her tail rather awkwardly.

“Well, I really can’t take you home for good, but Bella and I can certainly give you a big thank you from us, can’t we Bella.” She petted the pretty spaniel’s soft fur, untied the lead and indicated to Spike to follow, “Come on, we’re just around the corner.”

Though he still felt the need to put more distance between himself and bad memories, he knew offers like this did not come along often for a dog like him and for the second time since his change, Spike was taken in for the night by a kindly soul who washed and fed him. He snoozed the afternoon away on the front patio of Brenda’s tiny apartment with Bella happily resting with him while Brenda worked on her computer inside, but as dusk approached had knew he had to make a move.

He rose and pawed at the glass door that had been closed as the cool of the late afternoon chilled Bella’s owner who was working on her laptop at the small dining table. Both dogs were invited in and Bella padded along beside her big companion happily. Spike wished he could stay but knew it was not to be so made his way to the front door and indicated he needed to get out.

“OK sweetie, I know you can’t stay, but you be safe…”

Spike wagged his tail a little then leaned down and licked Bella as he let a near subsonic rumble calm her. Brenda picked up her little charge as Spike turned and took to the road once more – this time looking back just once to see the two still standing at the door watching him leave.

Spike had a plan and this time found the railway yards, padding along the security fence until he found a hole big enough to squeeze through. He had traveled the trains many times before – with and without tickets but this time had to be careful to find a carriage that was open enough to escape from but complex enough to hide in. Many of the carriages on the goods train that he could see must have been heading north, were simply a tray with a shipping container on it or completely covered and secure, but there were some with logs and another three with new cars. He chose to use one of the vehicle carriages and hid behind the left wheel of a new Jeep Cherokee ® destined for Canada.

The whole long train began to move at around eight that evening. It stopped at Bellingham briefly but then continued on. The inspection at the border was cursory – though there were torches and customs officials who looked in and around the carriage Spike had chosen to take refuge in. He had been cautious and jumped down to hide near the train’s wheels as the inspection passed then returned to his spot. In the space of an hour or so they were pulling up near the Vancouver inland dock, and a relieved Spike alighted.

The night was still young, but he decided rest was a better idea – as he really did not know where he wanted to go. As a dog, it was easy to go unnoticed on the docks. But there was very little to eat and he had a rock thrown at him more than once as he approached some of the workers in the yards.

Vancouver was a confusing city with too many choices. He desperately needed to see a map, develop a decent plan, and somehow find a purpose... for all this. So far he had just been running, just as he and Dru had after China, but then his purpose had been to keep her safe, and much of the running was to do with war, her whimsy, fear of being set upon, or for the sheer excitement of it all. Dru was as dotty as they came, but at least they had been together. Even Sunnydale had ended up somewhat bearable just before his martyrdom, indeed so had LA… sort of. Now… ?

Spike had not been concentrating on where he was going and ended up outside a hotel where a group of humans were getting onto a tour coach that had ‘Discover Holidays’ written on the side. He watched and listened as the group discussed their itinerary but in the end made a snap decision and while the driver was distracted helping the passengers aboard, he dove for the last remaining open luggage door and buried himself amongst the suitcases, packs and bags.

The first part of the trip wasn’t so bad, and the compartment relatively warm, he even managed to muffle the roar of the diesel engine by tucking his head between two relatively soft duffle bags. Then they began to climb a little, though the road was relatively straight, he knew that. Eventually he slept in defense as his growing thirst and hunger gnawed at him. The bus stopped for a break – apparently the group visiting a salmon gate and restaurant. The luggage doors remained closed and Spike tried to count his blessings, at least the noise stopped for a time.

The next section was still bearable but as the day wore on the road began to wind more and Spike’s stomach lurched, though there was nothing to be sick with. His tongue was hanging out and he put up with the noise in preference to panting through the nausea, though that made him feel even more dehydrated.

After three more sightseeing stops, Spike had all but lost consciousness so when the bus stopped for the evening and the doors to the luggage compartment were opened he hardly registered that he had not only been spotted but that the shock of his discovery swiftly turned to concern then action.

He felt the bags around him shift away, a slip chain push over his ears to rest around his neck as two sets of strong hands encouraged him to stand, then pushed him gently into the cage. He didn’t fight, merely staggered forward and flopped onto the base of his temporary prison.

He was aware enough to read ‘BCSPCA – Kamloops’ on the front of the jacket of the rescue officer as his cage was loaded for travel.

Two days later he had been fed and watered, washed and checked over by a vet. Just like in LA, his quiet nature and intelligence was noticed immediately and despite his recent ordeals, he was in relatively good condition, though very thin and rather worryingly quiet.

Spike was not just quiet, he was utterly listless and depressed. There was nothing for it now but to hope that someone might take a shine to him and pay the CA$200 to purchase a full grown dog of undetermined age – if only they knew! The alternative was the oblivion bringing needle in a month, which now, for Spike, was looking more and more inviting.

He watched over the next two weeks, as a litter of tabby kittens, two cute as a button black Labrador/something crosses, and a small very arrogant fully grown Shiatsu were adopted. The kittens made him think of Clem and kitten poker… and in the coming days as the hours dragged, he tried to recall in minute detail as much of his long life as he could. He was walked twice a day by one of the sweet volunteers, Tracy, who had the charming habit of chatting to him about her girlfriends, boys she liked, school, and all manner of other things. So much so, that Spike could have sworn he was walking along with the girl in human form as he had with Dawn years ago.

But then he was returned to his cage, fed and watered… and waited. In ten days time he would not have to wait for anything anymore.

The following afternoon he had his back to the ‘viewing end’ of the cage. It was mid afternoon and he knew there were a couple of males visiting the adoption room with an intent to purchase a dog to replace a recently deceased companion.

The two walked along the row. There were only four dogs in at the current time of which Spike was one, but the other three were younger and certainly livelier at the current moment. He listened to the conversation.

A rather booming baritone was accompanied what heard like a slap on the back, “So? Don’t worry if it’s not the same type of dog – these guys need a chance just like your Mace did – and if it hadn’t been for that bloody tumor, he would have gone on for years! And stop beating yourself up over it – vet said he was in terrible pain – geez even I could see that. You did the right thing Xan… Now the best thing to do is get back on the horse so to speak ayy?”

Spike’s heart skipped a beat when he heard the name but then felt stupid, there was no way it was the Scoobie from Sunnydale, and even if it was, there was no way he could think of how he might convey who he was… and even if he did, that might simply mean rejection yet again. But he couldn’t help but take a look and that meant standing, shaking himself and turning in the small cage.

The large man was wearing a thick corduroy jacket, blue jeans and work boots on, and as soon as he saw the pretty blue eye and rather striking markings, thick coat and all over attractive features, he let out an impressed whistle. “Come on Xan! At least squat down and have a look. If you like him I’ll give you half what you need to pay – think of it as an early Christmas present.”

Xander squatted down as requested and Spike almost fainted. Xander Harris, ex Scoobie, now sporting goatee beard and longer curly hair, and a sheepskin lined jacket… but it was definitely him. And now Spike felt *utterly* hopeless. There was nothing he could do to convey who he was, but to lick the fingers that were poked into the cage then rub his muzzle against the bars as he would Xander’s leg given the chance. He leveled his crystal blue eyes to Xander’s brown, trying to *will* him to see the truth.

But then the figure stood and turned to go, “I don’t know Jerry… I mean he’s a nice looking dog and all… and obviously pretty friendly… but… Maybe it’s just too soon after Mace you know?”

“OK buddy, ‘s OK… Just thought it was an alright idea and since we were passing… Anyways, let’s go find the hotel eyy.”

Spike curled up in a small ball and did a pretty good impression of a dog crying. His only hope, the whelp, the Zeppo, his jailer for a time, and in the end friend,,, was not going to be his rescuer.

He had just about completely given in to the notion that there were nine days to go before he could say good bye to his current form and the world generally. At least it would be painless, a lethal injection of anesthetic then eternal sleep. Better than burning up, or being staked… at least there would be some remains to throw in the furnace post mortem – had to be happy about that. Every other time there had been nothing to show for it.

He began to muse as to where his soul would go… he knew it was still there. But surely it was still a human soul? Lord knows he did not want to end up in doggy heaven with all that *barking*.

The viewing session was exceptionally quiet on the next day, a Wednesday, and Spike did as he had decided to do for the rest of his stay – facing the wall instead of the prospective adopters. Toward closing, Spike was snoozing, so jumped a little as the cage door opened. It was around walk time – he just must have overslept. The supposition was supported by the fact that a lead had been attached to the ring on his collar – along with another tag.

The young dog walker was very sad to see her charge go but knew it was for the best. The darker man did seem nice, “Paper work is all done… Thanks so much for your support.”

A very puzzled Spike was led out to a double cabin pickup with tool trailer attached. He assumed he would be outside in the tray for the ride to wherever they were going, but instead Spike got the entire back seat to himself. He wondered whether Xander knew Jerry had bought him, but then noticed no Xander and his heart sank again. Still he was at least out of that place.

Jerry started the truck and drove up the street. Spike wondered if the way he had acted toward Xander put him off.

Then the vehicle stopped and a brunette hefted himself into the truck.

“D’ya think he’ll be ok in the back all the way to Calgary?

“Looks pretty happy I reckon”

Xander gave a definite grin and reached over to stroke Spike. “Yeah,… Home Jeeves! And don’t spare the horses”

PART 5

The trip from Kamloops to Calgary was not all that far but certainly a very windy road. Spike was stretched out relaxed, the padding of the seat and quiet cabin absolute luxury, and the knowledge that he was now officially registered as owned by Xander Harris was just… wonderful in one sense, unbelievable in another… didn’t even cover it. The pickup hummed along and the nausea he had experienced in the bus did not even feature as he gave in to a relieved sleep.

They stopped at Banff and Spike woke with a jerk, rather disorientated as to where he was, but relaxed as the back door was opened and an old friend’s hand gave him a quick pet between his ears.

“Come on… Geez Jerry, I’ll have to give him a name – can’t just call him ‘Dog’.”

As the relieved canine jumped down from his the truck onto the stones of a carpark in front of a municipal park, and looked up at Xander with crystal blue eyes trying to convey, as much as he could, his relief, gratitude and genuine affection for a colleague of old. Xander’s breath hitched and he felt quite teary.

Jerry noted the odd mood, “’Sup buddy?”

Xander replied in a rather emotion affected voice, “Just that those eyes remind me of an old friend… died a while back in that Sunnydale collapse, you know before I met you guys. Saved me more times than I can count… you know in fights and… other stuff… name was Spike.”

“That was his name?’

“Nickname – real name was William th… William. Guess Spike just fitted his tough guy image. He always had hair peroxide blonde, and crystal blue eyes just like this one. He was slim, handsome, wore black mostly, had that bad boy thing going, but he was really a pretty good guy when it came down to it. Could really be a softy and loyal to a fault when protecting those he loved.” Xander’s voice had dropped almost to a whisper.

Spike sat back hard on his haunches stunned by the admission, the name, the… everything.

Jerry grinned and tried to lighten the mood, “Well then, Spike it is. See if he answers to it, you know… ‘cause you can’t expect him to just understand first time.”

With that Xander moved away from their parked car twenty or so meters into the park. “Hey Spike… Come to me… come on Spike.”

Before he had time to realize what had happen, a blonde and black streak flew forward bowled him over onto his back, and began licking his face enthusiastically, tail almost wagging at light speed.

Xander sat up surprised but laughing and pushed the dog away with firm affection, “Blaagh! Doggie breath!”

Spike flopped down beside the now seated Xander, put his head on his paws and looked up with the saddest, most apologetic eyes he could manage. He really hadn’t meant to push Xander over, but it was all too much with the events of the last months and the rescue and the admission and he *so* wanted to tell Xander… what he wasn’t sure. So he waited submissively.

Jerry yelled across laughing , “Yup seems he answers to that alright.”

Xander ruffled Spike’s fur between his ears then put a hand either side of Spike’s muzzle and lifted his head until they were Xander’s chocolate eye to Spike’s blue pair. “You’re not in trouble buddy, just no lickin’ of the Xanman’s face OK? No licking of faces. Now come on let’s all have a bit of a stretch of the ol’ legs – still a fair way to go, and man I need a Coke or something and food… food is of the good. C’mon let’s get Jerry.”

The next half hour was spent with Jerry and Xander playing catch and Spike – not one for sport (other than fighting, or of the TV variety) delighting in beating either one of them to the tennis ball if the catch was missed. The first few times he dropped it at Xander’s feet, but later in the game, refused to give it up. Instead, ball in mouth, he dodged between the two men, came close enough for them to pounce then swerved sideways and sprinted away to flop down and drop the ball between his paws – apparently exhausted. When Xander and Jerry tried to ambush him from that position, he grabbed his prize and ran once more. Finally the game ended as his owner flopped to the ground and conceded defeat, Jerry joined him. Spike sauntered up wagging his tail and triumphantly dropped the ball in front of the two then sat panting with what could only be described as a smile on his face.

Xander was breathing hard but grinned at the dog, “Yeah, right-o smart ass! Just because you’ve got four legs and can turn full pelt on a dime! Hey Jerr, you up for a Coke or something?”

“Mate after that, anything wet and cold with bubbles would be great. C’mon let’s drive into town – we’ll need to get him something too I reckon… Beef jerky and water shouldn’t upset his stomach too much – we’ve still got a fair bit of winding to do before we’re on the flat – I‘m sure he can hang out for food ‘til you get home.”

And so it was hamburgers and Cokes to go for the men and *bottled* water and beef jerky for Spike – a far cry from licking filthy drain water but weeks ago.

The trip started with Spike again lying down but as the really windy sections began, so did his nausea. He pushed up to sitting then remembered other times, trips at sea or in lurching closed carriages when the only thing that seemed to relieve it was fresh air – and now he didn’t even have to worry that it was daytime! He pawed at the window a little and gave the tiniest squeak of a whimper.

Xander was driving for the second leg and guessed the problem as he remembered being car sick once or twice as a child. He hit the controls for the automatic window on the right hand rear, and Spike immediately stuck his head out into the chilled mountain air in absolute relief. It felt wonderful. His ears were pressed back with the rush of the air and thick fur blew flat against his face. He closed his eyes as the cold and the speed of the wind made them water something fierce, but he felt instantly better. He could smell the fresh mountain air, various shrubs and trees, and yet also registered that he was comfortably seated in the back of his owner, Xander’s car, and they were going ‘home’.

Big enough to rest his cheek on the window sill, Spike let himself simply enjoy for a time, until his ears began to ache slightly with the cold. He pulled his head inside, but sat up in the middle of the back seat rather than lying down, belatedly noting that he was able to see through the windscreen between the two front seats, that too reduced the feeling of motion sickness.

Xander noticed the dog’s more perky nature and put the window up. Jerry was sleeping with his head resting on an old sweater against his window so Xander had time to think at last. For some reason he could not stop staring at the beautiful blonde chest and dark markings, and those eyes! The dog would no doubt fill out a little with good food, exercise and a lot of love.

Spike took his eyes off the road in front looking into the rear vision mirror instead as Xander began to talk, almost to himself, bemused that his newest companion Spike’s ears were pricked and his head cocked slightly to one side, blue eyes meeting his one brown with an intensity and strange familiarity that was a little unnerving.

“You and I will have to, you know, muck in a bit for a while – I’m still doing my place up so the back yard’s a bit of a mess, you know builder’s stuff… well OK it’s all a bit of a mess – but it’s getting there. I was lucky to get it too… mate of Jerry’s was moving to Saskatchewan and was happy to sell, and the company had sponsored me here so I’m good to stay. Poor Mace, he never got to see it… ::sigh:: Guess Jerry is right though, one door closes another opens… “ Xander seemed to drift off into his own world for a time leaving Spike to wonder exactly where Xander had been in the interim years since the Sunnydale Hellmouth implosion.

Spike had intended to lean forward a little to try to hear the rest of the monologue but at the last moment decided that it was perhaps better left as information for another day. Besides they were on the open plain and he decided to lie down again and enjoy a snooze until they arrived in Calgary.

It was late dusk as Jerry was dropped off, promising to visit Xander on the morrow and congratulating them both on their successful business trip and Xander’s new companion. Jerry’s twin ten year old boys were well impressed by the ‘sled dog’ in the back of the car and each gave Spike a quick pat before being hurried inside so Xander could get home.

They had to go a little across town to get to Xander’s house, a rather typical Canadian house for the area, but apparently needed ‘a lot’ of work when he first moved in six months previously. With shingles that needed replacing on the external walls, paint and wallpaper tired and peeling inside and plumbing almost irredeemable, Xander had set to on his time off and transformed the unloved, unoccupied for three years building into a quite pretty home – at least from the outside. The internal walls were all painted off white with one feature wall highlighting the faux fireplace that burned ‘gas logs’. There was ducted heating also, and the musty basement had been upgraded to a pool/chill out room, gym area and a large partitioned area for ‘stuff’ – though Xander still had yet to accumulate a great deal.

Xander fumbled a little with his keys but eventually levered the front door open – the trick was the knee in just the right spot then turn. Spike sat on the small porch behind him waiting patiently. Old habits died hard and it wasn’t until Xander was inside and called to him, “Well… come in Spike… this is your place too now. Better get used to it.” Xander threw his duffle bag in the archway of the lounge and indicated for Spike to follow.

67 Sunnyvale Boulevard, Calgary SE was a far cry from the cramped basement of Sunnydale – and even from the rented airy apartment that he had shared with Xander post Spike’s ensouling. There were three bedrooms and a study, cozy lounge, open plan kitchen/family/dining room, a large bathroom, an en-suite for the main bedroom, and a laundry.

The open plan area was obviously newly renovated and Xander proudly explained a number of the features he and ‘the guys’ had included. “… and in the morning I’ll show you around the outside, I’ve nearly finished the decking under the pergola and the only other thing to do is install the Jacuzzi, do some paving and landscape…”

Spike didn’t really mean to look bored but could not hide the wide doggy yawn.

“OK, OK! I know…I’m turning into one of those boring house owners who gets excited when the hardware store has a sale on coach bolts or routers and discusses the going price of ten liters of external paint or a new mixer tap!” Spike padded up and rubbed against Xander’s leg much as a cat might – a very *big* cat – grinning internally as he thought “What do you mean ‘turning into’? You were always like that!” They were both tired, it had been a long day.

“C’mon you… let’s find you a nice spot to rest your head – so long as you don’t snore you’re welcome in my room… I’ll just…” Xander tugged open the door to the basement and emerged with an enormous round futon like cushion full of flock surrounding a dense foam core. He disappeared down the hall to their left, emerging after but a few seconds grinning like the Cheshire Cat from “Alice in Wonderland”. “Think you’ll like your bed…”

Spike waited patiently as the mug of milk turned slowly in the microwave, then waited as Xander put it in a bowl, then waited again to touch his food in the same way a Childe waited for permission of the Sire to eat.

“Well? Oh I forgot… You may drink Spike.”

A short time later, Spike was on his mat next to Xander’s queen-sized double. What surprised him the most was the soft blanket thrown over him. He and his owner both sighed in unison and promptly fell asleep.

PART 6

Xander was up early the next day, Spike stirring immediately the human started to move.

Xander’s first act was to sit up, scratch his rather messy bed hair and bare chest then lean over the side of the bed to meet a pair of loving blue eyes. “Hey buddy, sleep OK?”

Spike had almost forgotten the scarred skin where Xander’s left eye should have been, the brown patch he had wore during the day almost passing as an accessory. He still regretted not having barreled that bastard before he could mar the handsome face, now all the better for the goatee and slimmer more mature features. That aside he wanted to show his gratitude, so pushed up to sitting, lifted a front paw onto the bed and rested his furry chin within reaching distance of Xander. He looked up with as much love and adoration as he could get into his baby blues and thumped his tail on the plushy material that covered the round futon he had slept on.

“That good huh? Well… guess that’ll have to be your night time spot from now on…” Xander stroked the fur between Spike’s ears and absently tugged and caressed the baby soft ear closest to him, “You’re so different to Mace you know… he was a Rottweiler-cross, all bounce and no brains… never could get him to settle inside… or listen to me for long. He was only four when… still miss him though. Guess it’s OK to do that…” The hand began to caress his other ear and Xander scooted down the bed a little so access was easier.

Spike still hadn’t moved but reached a little further forward with his paw now Xander was closer, and managed to touch the former Scoobie’s foot.

“It’s like you sort of know what I’m saying even… The real Spike was intelligent too, I mean he was really educated – Dawn once told me that he had a book collection and had read all the classics… And I guess being around that long would give you an edge on the book reading and the travel and… His hand writing was amazing. When he was living in my place – after the soul, he wrote a shopping list one time – OK not so much shopping list as a ‘by the way you need’ note. Even the way he wrote Wheetabix looked cool… Anyway enough of old times – you wouldn’t even have been a puppy in your daddy’s eye back then I’ll bet and here’s me boring you to tears again.

Come on… It’s Saturday, time for a run, some washing, then a bit of a shop for food, and if you’re real good we can hang out in the hardware store, then you can help me with the patio – what do you say?” With that Xander ruffled the fur behind Spike’s ears, shifted back and swung off the bed.

Spike was still a bit caught up with the ear petting and processing Xander’s reminiscing, but stood immediately and wagged his tail enthusiastically as Xander hitched up his navy blue boxer shorts and headed for the bathroom. Spike was about to follow but then thought better of it. He was thirsty but really needed to relieve himself more than anything, so sat by the door of the bedroom in preparation for a bit of a wait.

Xander saw him out of the corner of his eye and twigged the probable cause of the longing look toward the hallway, “Ah geez… sorry buddy. Here, come with me, now if I let you out the back to do your business, you gotta promise not to run away OK?” Spike nuzzled Xander’s hand then followed him to the back door and was let outside as Xander returned to the bathroom to perform his morning ablutions.

Xander was right, the garden was a mess, but an organized mess with a purpose obviously. Builder’s materials, mounds of sand and scoria, piles of various sized planks for the deck and pergola, circular saw and a variety of tools neatly lined up along the back wall of the house – plus another pile of what was obviously rubbish in the back left-hand corner. Spike decided on that as his toilet spot and acted accordingly, scraping some loose dirt over his doings with his back legs after he had finished – it was the least he could do.

He decided to investigate the yard a little more. Xander had not been exaggerating; there was certainly room for improvement, once all the construction was finished. Apart from anything else there were no trees to speak of, just one rather tired looking holly and a gnarled old lemon tree that seriously needed attention. There were the remnants of a vegetable patch and a couple of edges indicating there may have been flower beds down the side at some stage, but the old shed, chicken coop, whatever, in the far right corner had long been covered by ivy and various other creepers, and would have to go.

Eventually he returned to the back door ready to wait, but noted that it was not quite closed, so nudged it fully open and padded inside. Knowing better than to invade Xander’s privacy when showering (and hadn’t that been a hoot that one time when they were living in the basement – the Scoobie jacking off under the hot spray only to turn and find Spike smirking at him from the doorway… resulting in more hours of the tortuous ‘comfy chair’). Instead Spike lay down by the stove in the kitchen.

A few minutes later Xander wandered in still rubbing his hair dry, another towel wrapped toga-like around his hips. Spike sat up and enjoyed the view. The boy was in his late twenties now and a fine example of manhood. Construction work was good for him but the idea that he also ran and kept himself fit was something Spike had not contemplated when living with the Twinkie eating youth.

Obviously used to having the house to himself, Xander almost jumped out of his skin when the towel cleared his face and he saw the dog head cocked slightly to one side staring at him with what could be interpreted as mild amusement. “Geez Spike! How’d you get in here?”

If Spike could have rolled his eyes he would have. Instead he made his point by walking past Xander to the back door, casually pushed it shut, then returned to his spot in front of the stove.

“OK, OK. Seems like I’m the one who must have grown up in the tent… Next you’ll want me getting you your own key. Hey… how about we have a bit of a drink then take that run – I really can’t have breakfast then go – makes me all queasy.” With that he served himself a juice and downed a couple of multivitamins chased by half a glass of water. He then found a large porcelain soup bowl and poured some fresh milk into it – belatedly thinking to crush a Wheatabix into it, “The real Spike used to do that with his blood you know… said it added texture.” Spike would have kissed him if he could have.

Both finished their respective drinks with relish, Xander dressed quickly and they headed off in the direction of the parkland along the river/stream nearby. Xander also thinking to bring a tennis ball and Spikes lead, which was just as well. Technically Spike should have been attached to the lead but it was still early and the weekend, so there were few people around to worry as he loped along easily keeping pace as Xander did his usual five mile run. This time for Xander, however, it was to be the first of many accompanied by his four-legged companion. Mace had been far to boisterous and ‘silly’ to let go of, but for some reason Xander just knew that wasn’t the case with this still slender new friend. The ball was thrown occasionally, Spike retrieving it and catching up to Xander with ease.

By the time they were both home Xander was sweaty again. He filled Spike’s bowl with water and went for a second shower, changing in the bedroom before he came out this time, and immediately busying himself making a cooked breakfast – a luxury not available on the frantic weekday mornings. He pulled out a second bowl for Spike and served him two pieces of crispy bacon after he had piled his own plate high with toast, fried eggs, bacon, tomatoes and mushrooms.

Xander sat at the table and tugged the plastic wrap from newspaper he had picked up from the front lawn as they finished their run and proceeded to eat and read the headlines in silence. Spike was amazed – not a hint of sugary cereal in sight and a huge bowl of fruit on the table indicating that much had changed.

The brewing coffee aroma mixed with the medley of delicious smells already in the kitchen and Spike was thrilled when a rather loud belch was followed by, “Gahh I’m full, you want the rest of my last egg? Shame to waste it…”, after which the delicious morsel was delivered to his plate. Xander delivered his plate and the pan to the sink, ran water over them, poured himself a coffee then sat back down to relax, read the sports pages and do the Saduko puzzle on the back of the paper. The Sunnydale boy who failed math at school certainly had grown up, and in a strange sort of a way Spike felt a sting of pride.

Eventually they did venture to the shops, Spike waiting patiently in the truck while Xander bought food and various items they *both* needed for the week ahead. They made a run back home with the bags before heading out again. This time Spike was allowed to sit at the front of the hardware store – submitting to being tied to a post and told to wait as Xander went inside the huge building. Several people patted him on the way past and one small child even gave him a lick of her ice-cream before her mother noticed her proximity to the large dog and dragged the child away.

The afternoon was spent with a shirtless Xander sawing the decking into the right lengths and nailing then (using nail gun) to the joists he already had in place. The sweaty male body glistening in the sun was a sight, and Spike could do little to help, so simply relaxed down on the grass and enjoyed the view. Around four in the afternoon the top of the deck was finished and Xander sat heavily on his handy work, the safety goggles around his neck, and used his checked flannel shirt to rub away some of the sweat dirt and sawdust. “Geez I could do with a beer right now…”

Spike could see the fatigue and sidled up to Xander, leapt onto the deck and licked Xander’s sweaty right forearm once then pushed the back door, managed to open the fridge with a firm push of his paw and grabbed a Heineken from the door compartment in his teeth.

He delivered it to a flabbergasted Xander then returned and repeated the exercise before padding back inside, clasping his bowl gently between his teeth and placing it too beside Xander, then sat sphinx-like with a twinkle in his eye and the look of “Well? Where's mine?!”

Xander laughed aloud, ruffled his fur and emptied the rest of his half drunk first bottle into the dogs bowl before cracking open the second, “I swear you have been human in a past life! Wait ‘til the boys at work hear about this… I’m cutting you off at one though – last thing I need is a drunken doggy howling his wows all night.” He could have sworn he heard Spike give a good humored snort, but discounted it as the two sat quietly together and enjoyed the afternoon sun.

Some time a half hour or so later, Xander pushed himself up with a bit of a groan, put away most of the tools and plugged in the circular sander finishing off the edges of the deck, then packing up as the chill of the evening began to kick in. Spike picked up the end of the extension cord in his teeth and carried it over to Xander as the human covered the circular saw and various other power tools with a weather proof tarp. Xander was so preoccupied he didn’t hear Spike’s approach and just about jumped out of his skin when he turn to find the dog directly in front of him, cord at his feet.

“And I say Gahhh again today! Geez Spike sneak up much!” The dog looked unrepentant. “I swear you must be related to your namesake somehow! If you start wearing leather and painting your claws black, I swear…” Spike heard some genuine annoyance but knew now how to veto it with ease. He dropped to the ground and gave his best hurt puppy look up to Xander.

“Oh come on you! I’m not really mad, just tired. How about we grab something from the Noodle House and watch TV tonight – I really don’t feel like cooking… ‘Course yours is easy… Here you silly mutt…” Xander squatted down and ruffled Spike’s fur with both hands with affectionate roughness, “Feel like I’ve known you for much longer than a couple of days you know? We’re gonna make a good team you ‘n I – so long as I don’t have a heart attack first from too many surprises!”

The night was spent in front of the television watching some mindless action movie on it’s forth sequel and third repeat. The real entertainment was Spike discovering that if Xander threw up a piece of popcorn, he rarely missed catching it, much to the amusement of both of them.

Eventually bed seemed more sensible than worrying about the end of the rather predictable plot. Spike felt the blanket thrown over him again and snuggled down. It hadn’t been such a bad day after all.