On the Other Side

Chapter 22


Spike couldn’t sleep. Not only was the sofa extremely uncomfortable, but the questions bombarding his mind simply wouldn’t stop. Why had Angel’s hands, lips felt so amazing? What did he feel for Wesley? Was he gay? Could his father have made him gay? Did his father make him gay? Was he truly a monster like his father?

Sighing in frustration, he flipped himself over and stared at the ceiling. Allowing a little bit of William to the forefront, he decided the best thing to do was to get organized. First of all, there was Wesley. He’d kissed his friend…hell, they’d practically made out in his car. And there was no doubt that he didn’t enjoy it. But he’d thought it was simply comfort between two friends, a one-off, because Wesley had been there. But did he like Wesley? Well, it was obvious he liked the other boy, they were friends after all… Wesley was nice, and gentle, and wickedly brilliant, and cute… Cute? Spike thought back about the grin Wesley had worn, just before he’d fallen off the sofa onto his ass. He chuckled at the memory. Ok…Wes was cute. He felt affection for the other boy, but it wasn’t... He puzzled over the thought a few minutes more before it dawned on him: William would have fallen for Wesley, and would have fallen hard. He could see it stretched out before him, a timeline that could have been: their love would have been hard and gentle by turns, but William would have truly loved the boy, and the boy would have loved him back, just as desperately. He’d simply met Wes a bit too late. Saddened by the thought, he shed a tear for what he’d lost.

Snapping himself out of the broody thoughts, he focused back on his task. He supposed his first revelation took care of the gay thing as well. He’d liked touching another male, kissing another male, and under different circumstances he would have fallen in love with another male. Ok, so he was definitely gay, or maybe he was bi? Did he still like girls? There’d been that brunette at the party, long smooth dark hair and sparkling blue eyes, wearing a low-cut, too short dress. He thought about soft breasts, smooth limbs and gentle smiles. He thought about Buffy, about how pretty she’d looked and how she’d licked the ice cream from her spoon. Yeah, he definitely still liked the girls. Curious, he imagined that spoon in Angel’s mouth, watching as the older boy cleaned it of the treat, dark eyes glittering, grinning wickedly across the table at him.

Spike drew in a deep breath, shaking his head. So he liked girls, but liked guys more. Was that bi? Was there a name for that? Or maybe he just liked Angel more? And why was he so attracted to the poncy git, anyhow? Just thinking the college boy’s name had him writhing on the sofa, trying to rid himself of the urge to jump up and run to the brunet. But he didn’t even know the man! Sure, Angel was tall, and had nice, dark eyes, and was warm and hard when pressed up against him, but he didn’t even know Angel’s last name, or where he was from, or what kind of music he liked. And he didn’t know why Angel had invited him, by name, to the party. He rubbed his hands against his eyes in frustration. Maybe he’d get lucky and never see the other boy, and he wouldn’t have to worry about all these questions. He tried to ignore the sinking feeling in his gut at that suggestion.

The question of his father’s role in his recent revelation crossed his mind, his stomach contracting violently in terror. He pressed himself into the cushions, drawing into a trembling ball and burrowing under the blanket. He pushed the thought away with a shudder. He couldn’t think about that. Couldn’t think about how his father, his daddy could…no, not just yet. He wiped his eyes on the blanket; he wouldn’t think about that. With an exaggerated sigh, he forced his body to unravel, stretching his limbs and sucking in deep breaths as he refocused his thoughts on what could be the most worrying question of all: What about Xander? He lay on the couch, thinking about the boy that had been his shadow for years, when a pang of longing hit his stomach. Flinging back the blanket he’d wrapped himself in, he ran up the stairs, stopping at Xander’s door. Hesitantly, he placed his hand on the knob, sighing in relief when nothing…unsettling happened.

He opened the door and went in, standing next to the sleeping boy. For a moment he just looked at his little brother, limbs sprawled across the bed, a small puddle of drool on his pillow. He felt…love, and trust, and even pride, but there wasn’t a hint of malice, or lust, or ill-will towards the boy. Smiling with relief, he jerked the pillow out from underneath the younger boy’s head before smacking him with it.

“Move over, ya git.”

Xander blinked absently, wiping the drool from his cheek with a look of disgust, before turning sleep-glazed eyes toward Spike. “Huh?”

“Wesley’s pissed. Asleep in my bed. Now shove over.” To emphasize his request, he pulled the bedclothes back and sat next to the boy, physically shoving him over until he had just enough room to lie down. They’d both grown considerably since the last time they’d shared a bed; Spike pulled the boy close, finally able to sleep.