Quantum Xander II: In Wake of the Curse

Part 3

Spike was improving. He was no longer as crazy as he had been that first week after Xander had brought him home. Now, midway through week two of their cohabitation, the vampire seemed almost back to his old self - annoying habits included.

“Spike! God damn it, I thought I asked you not to leave your wet towels all over the floor?”

“You did.”

“So why are there towels all over the floor?”

“Just because you asked, doesn’t mean I’m gonna listen, now does it?”

Xander stopped. Thought about it and burst out laughing. Spike stepped away from him and eyed him warily. He wasn’t sure if he had finally driven the boy around the bend, but if that was the case, he wanted space to run.

“You know what? You’re right. I should have expected this.”

“You’re not gonna yell at me some more? Take a swing at me?”

“Over wet towels? Nah, not worth it. Why? You want me to hit you?”

“Deserve it. After what I did.”

“Spike, I already told you, I understand what happened with Buffy, I don’t like it, but I do understand it.”

“Not her, was talking about your girl.”

Spike paused and looked at Xander in confusion.

“Didn’t they tell you?”

Xander watched as Spike backed away from him, a look of horror on his face.

“They didn’t tell you!”

“No, they didn’t. I assume you mean Anya, so why don’t you tell me?”

Spike sagged onto the couch and put his head in his hands. Xander sat next to him and waited.

“Well, now I know why you’re being so decent to me. No one told you; I shagged your girl. I’ll just be gettin’ my things now.”

Xander gaped at the mental image of his ex-fiancée and Spike… together… doing things.

“Wow, um, how did everyone find out?”

“Was caught on camera. The geek patrol that was stalking Buffy set up a camera at the shop. Just happened that the witch was trying to track the signal back and came upon the broadcast.”

“Ouch. Bet Buffy was pissed.”

“Well, not so much, actually. More hurt than anything else. Why haven’t you hit me yet?”

“Why would I? Anya’s not my girl; not any more. I lost the right to be pissed about her having sex with anyone else when I left her at the altar. So what happened? You guys break up?”

“What!? No, wasn’t like that. It was… solace. She was hurtin’, I was hurtin’. Just sorta happened.”

There was silence for the next few minutes while Xander pondered the idea of Spike and Anya. It was definitely a better match then him and Buffy; at least it would have been, before the soul.

Spike, meanwhile, was using the silence to try and figure out who this new Xander was. The boy he’d known would have torn him apart for touching his girls; either of them. He wondered if he’d ever find out just what had happened to him when he’d disappeared. He hadn’t had the guts to ask him just yet. Maybe now would be a good time?

“Xander? Can I ask you something?”

“You just did.”

Xander smiled and Spike rolled his eyes.

“Fine. Can I ask you something after asking if I can ask you something?”

Xander smiled beatifically at him; Spike was even starting to think like one of them now.

“Sure, Spike. Ask away.”

“Where’d you go? Before I left, everyone was looking for you, it was like you’d dropped off the face of the earth.”

“Long story. Let’s just say that the word ‘wish’ should be stricken from my vocabulary.”

“You made a wish? After leaving your ex-demon fiancée at the altar? Not to mention the fact that there were a bloody lot of vengeance demons at that ceremony. Are you insane?”

“Insane. Drunk. Don’t really remember making a wish. But there you go.”

“What’d you wish for?”

“I wished I knew how my life could have been different. Spent about ten months jumping around to different realities.”

Spike was shocked. He hadn’t really expected Xander to tell him anything. And the idea that he had spent the last ten months - to him, two and half months to everyone else - hopping from world to world was mind boggling. He wanted to ask what he had seen; if he thought he had made the right choices in his life after seeing what could have been.

He wondered if there were places where he had made different choices, like not leaving that damn party over a century ago and getting turned. Was there a reality out there somewhere, where William the bloody awful poet had lived; maybe married and raised a family? Maybe a world where he and Dru hadn’t gone to Prague and therefore never had reason to come to this damnable little California town. Were they still together? Happy?

“Don’t do it, Spike. Trust me; finding out isn’t worth the price you have to pay.”

There was a note of pain and longing in the young man’s voice that brought Spike out of his contemplation. Something had happened during Xander’s time away, something that had fundamentally changed him, something that had hurt him beyond his endurance. Spike was determined to find out what it was.

“Wasn’t gonna do nothin’. Was just thinking about the possibilities.”

“Well, one possibility was you being recaptured by the Initiative. It wasn’t pretty, trust me.”

“How’d that come about? What have you got to do with me being recaptured?”

“I wasn’t here, in Sunnydale. Therefore no cozy basement to hide out in. It’s all interwoven. My life affects everyone else’s, in some way or another. So does yours. Think about the implications of that before doing anything stupid. I’m going to my room. Goodnight, Spike.”

Xander left the vampire sitting on the couch with a lot to think about. He stripped off his shirt and pants, crawled into bed and liberated the CD player from his nightstand. He popped in the first disc he grabbed and the not-so-soothing tones of The Ramones blasted through the tiny ear buds. Xander closed his eyes and remembered his mate dancing around the room listening to this and singing along. It was a good memory and it made him smile, even as the tears rolled down his face.

Spike heard the muted music coming through the headphones and tilted his head in confusion; he didn’t know the boy liked classic punk rock. He walked down the hall and stopped just on the other side of Xander’s door. He could smell tears and grief, as well as hear his muffled sobs. He made a decision; tomorrow while Xander was at work he was going to find out what had happened to him. He felt he owed him; for his friendship these past couple weeks, for his own sanity - the power of the hellmouth was making him even crazier than the soul - and his understanding about not only Buffy but Anya, as well.

Spike had no plans for the night so he heated some blood and settled in front of the TV. A&E was doing a biography on twentieth century poets, and if Xander wasn’t gonna be around to take the piss with him for watching, he was going to do just that - watch.

The next morning, Spike waited until he was sure Xander was gone for the day before leaving his room and going down the hall to Xander’s bedroom. He knew that snooping through the man’s things was wrong, but he didn’t know how else to help him. Besides, he might have a soul now, but he was still evil; just not in the ‘killing, maiming and eating of people’ way that he used to be.

The first thing he did was to open the closet. He knew from living with Xander in the basement that the boy hid all his personal things in his closet. He had been impressed by the sheer number of wank magazines the boy had had. This time, however, he was searching for something other than porn; although, he had made good use of those skin mags.

Xander’s clothes were mostly jeans and shirts that went in his dresser, so there were only a few button-down shirts and two suits hanging on the rod. Spike pushed them aside and froze at the sight of his beloved duster. Only, it wasn’t his. He could tell his own coat, and this one, while identical to his, wasn’t his.

For one, it had a rip on the left shoulder; his coat didn’t. For two, he had left his at the slayer’s and it was likely still there. And for three, there was a pair of Docs sitting on the floor directly beneath it. Spike knew that his Docs were in his room, under his bed where he kicked them off last night. So, if the boots weren’t his, then it made sense that the coat wasn’t his either. And that meant that Xander had brought back the duster and Docs of some other Spike. But why?

Curious, but not really wanting to know any more, Spike righted the clothes in the closet and closed the door. He stood silently in the middle of the room and wondered if he shouldn’t just leave this alone, let Xander tell him in his own time. If he told him. It was the ‘if’ that made his decision.

Next stop, the bedside table. Spike opened it and looked through the contents. A few CDs - decent bands too, some rather interesting sexual accessories - Spike took a moment to appreciate the softness of the leather cuffs before putting them back, and two leather-bound notebooks. Figuring that these would hold the answers he sought, he sat down and opened the first book. Noticeable shock registered on his face as he recognized his own handwriting.