Unacceptable Losses

Pounding. Too much pounding for the hangover headache that Xander had fully given himself over to when he slapped the alarm off at 9:15, and again at 9:24, and again at 9:33 before burying it under two pillows. He groaned quietly—no point adding to the dull thud that throbbed from around his skull when the increasingly agitated pounding on the door. He rolled slowly into a sitting position and placed his bare feet on the floor, scrunching his toes in the carpet.

“Harris, get your lazy arse out here now!”

Xander cringed. The vampire’s shout grated across frayed nerves, and Xander considered ignoring the menace at the door and making for the bathroom and a hot shower. Maybe if he delayed long enough, impatient vamps would whisk Dawn away and leave him behind. The thought appealed for approximately thirty seconds before the panic over losing Dawn and the inevitable regret over giving his friends more reason to worry took over. He stood and shuffled over to the door, flicked the locks, and turned around to shuffle back towards the bathroom without waiting for Spike to barge across the threshold.

Spike fumed as he listened to the locks being turned. When the door didn’t open, he reached for the knob and flung the door open. As he opened his mouth to let loose another stream of invective, he took in the wretched state of the room and the man disappearing into the bathroom. Two empty whiskey bottles along with several Hershey’s chocolate bar wrappers where strewn across the floor along with the now-crumpled suit that Xander had worn to Buffy’s memorial. Blankets laid in a tangled mass on the bed, testament to a night of restless sleep, although Spike grimly noted that Xander probably passed out rather than fell asleep. Anger, fear, despair all lingered in the air. As he took in the state of the room, he listened to the sound of Xander’s morning ablutions.

The vampire sighed and began to gather the man’s belongings, grateful that he had agreed to take on the task of rounding up the missing member of their new LA contingent rather than letting Dawn deal with Xander in his morning-after grunge. A thought flashed and had him at the bathroom door, snarling.

“You let her see you like this?” He ground out.

“Huh?” Xander raised bloodshot eyes, toothbrush hanging out of his mouth.

“Dawn. She find you like this? Stinking of booze and barely able to drag your sorry ass out of bed?”

Xander looked back down at the sink, spit out toothpaste, and ran water over the toothbrush to clean it. Answer enough for Spike.

“This ends.” He spun Xander around and pressed him back against the marble countertop. “You will not put her through that.” He grasped Xander’s stubbled chin and forced him to meet angry blue eyes. To his shock, the brown eye staring back at him gleamed with angry unshed tears. He forced himself to push down sympathy for the hopelessness that rolled off the man. “You don’t do this to her. Gonna be a drunk like your da, you do it somewhere else. Away from her.”

Xander closed his eye and a tear fell. He jerked away from the cool hands on his arms and angrily dashed the tear away. God, all he wanted was to get out of this room without any further conversation. Having Spike’s preternaturally strong hands on him, threatening him with the pain that he craved had almost undone him. The urge to spill out his failings, to beg for the punishment that might make him feel redeemed for even a few moments, warred with the certainty that Spike must be as disgusted with him as he was with himself.

Spike watched him stalk across the room and rip the dingy t-shirt off and yank on jeans and a clean tee with shaking hands.

“She never found me like this. I never let anyone find me like this. Until today.” Shoving the remaining clothes into his duffle, he kicked the bottles out of his way and headed for the door. Before he could open it, Xander found himself faced once again with that cold blue stare. He met the look with resignation, clearly accepting that only Dawn mattered.

The depth of brokenness and loss in the deep brown eye stung the vampire’s unbeating heart. He decided Angel’s timetable could take another few minutes of disruption, and he took the bag from Xander and guided him back to sit on the bed.

Spike ran a hand through his hair, trying to figure out what he needed to say.

“Sorry about that,” Spike jerked his thumb toward the bathroom. “Hit a sore spot. Promised the Slayer to take care of the Bit. I was just looking out for her.”

Xander looked away and nodded before muttering, “I wouldn’t hurt Dawn.”

Spike sat down on the bed. “Need something for that headache?”

He shrugged. “Doesn’t matter. It’ll go away.”

“And you deserve it?”

“Fuck off.”

“Gonna have to do better than that.”

“Leave it alone, Spike. I fucked up, and now we’re late. Can we just go?” Xander stood and picked up the bag again. He so did not want to be having any kind of conversation about the state of his life right now. Without looking back, he walked out the door. Spike frowned and followed. He had agreed to Dawn’s plan, but now he wondered what exactly he had gotten himself into. If he hadn’t been at such a loss as to what to do with his brooding Sire, he never would have agreed to this whole arrangement. As he trailed Xander down the hall and out to the parking lot, he smirked as another thought occurred. In this particular deal, Dawn and Faith got a broody immortal known for his temper and guilt-complexes that were ingrained centuries deep. Suddenly a young human bent on destroying himself seemed like the better part of the bargain.