Turnabout

Author: Liz

Banging on the bathroom door jolted Xander out of his uncomfortable doze. He had no idea what time it was, but as he straightened his legs and twisted his back, he recognized by the stiffness that he must have been curled up on the floor between the toilet and the tub for at least a few hours. Pacing and silent, hopeless swearing had given way to sinking to the floor as his hang-over and bloodloss returned in place of the receding adrenalin-fueled argument with Spike. Spike. Who was still outside the door, and, unless Xander had suddenly been granted Anya's power of the wish, the vampire would be the one doing the pounding.

"Oi, whelp!"

Nope. Still the undeader undead bleached menace.

"Cut yer brooding and yer arse out here."

Okay. Irritation. That had to be better than the careful concern that drove him in here. Maybe it meant that Spike had had enough and would take off. And that's what I want. Want the over-concerned vamp gone. Yep. No heart to hearts with ex-Scoobies. He groaned as he dragged himself to his feet, flexing sore muscles. He rested his head against the door as he reached for the knob. Deep breath. He stepped back and pulled the door open a crack. No blond vampire in sight. Shit, I'm such a fucking coward. This is my place, and I'm hiding in the john from a vampire who would stake himself before he bit me. Xander shivered slightly at the thought of Spike biting him, then disgustedly poked at that thought again. He would never bite me. He longed for the intensity of being bitten by someone he knew rather than those anonymous encounters at Sang Froid—-and wasn't that a pathetic name for the vampire brothel. He'd had to stifle a smirk the first time he heard the name.

"It's safe to come out. Not gonna bite, you wanker." The voice from the other room echoed his thoughts eerily.

Spike paced on the other side of the room in front of the window. Dusk had fallen, and the curtains were open. The vampire cast glances back and forth between the bathroom and the parking lot. The return of his soul had not brought with it any measure of patience, and being cooped up another day in the motel room, this time with his only companion behind a locked door, pushed him to the limits of endurance.

As Xander cracked open the bathroom door, Spike caught a glimpse of a purple figure walking up to the front door. He yanked it open before Margie could knock. He reached out to relieve her of the two brown paper bags she carried.

"Cheers, luv."

"My pleasure, dahlin'. Gotta take good care of m'boys." She winked and tapped Spike on the cheek with a vaguely scaly finger. Then her gaze turned serious. "You be careful. Folks aren't gonna be glad to see him go."

"Already taken that into account," he assured her. He glanced back over his should to see how much of the interaction Xander was taking in. The bathroom door was open, but the man had yet to step out.

"Thanks for everything." He returned his attention to the demon at the door.

"He's a good man, isn't he. I been waitin' for somebody to show up and drag him outa this pit. Never thought it would be a vampire." She chuckled at the irony.

"Yeh, he's a good man," Spike swallowed past the sudden lump in his throat at the memory of the vibrant, passionate boy that had been beaten down by whatever despair currently ruled his consciousness.

"What's going on?"

Spike started at the reappearance of his friend. Xander stood with his hands on his hips, glaring at the figures in the doorway.

"Dinner, pet." Spike held up the bags. "Thought you might be ready for a bite."

"I gotta get back to the bar before somebody takes offense over Carl's attempts at mixing cocktails." Margie exaggerated a shudder. She waggled a dozen fingers at the two men and turned away.

Spike closed the door and set the two bags down on the dresser, studiously avoiding Xander's glare. He began to pull Styrofoam containers out of one of the paper bags before pulling a six-pack of soda and containers of blood from the other. He set their dinner out on his bedspread.

"Don't know what she brought. Just asked for what she thought you'd like." The vampire continued to avoid Xander's gaze as he gestured at the containers. He picked up his container of blood and eased the top off.

"Right, room service. Because folks are gonna have a problem with me going out for food?"

Spike winced under the sarcasm. He took a long sip of blood before leaning back against the dresser and engaging his companion's eye.

"No, food because you need something in your system besides booze. Food because it looks like you haven't bothered to have an actual meal in weeks. And room service because you're in no state to go anywhere right now."

"That's not all." Xander grated out.

"No, that's not all. But you don't get the rest until you bloody well eat something."

The contest of wills continued in silence for a long moment before Xander's stomach rumbled, undercutting his resolve to make Spike tell him immediately the whole of what he had planned.

"Fine." Xander crossed over to the bed, yanked one of the soda cans free from the plastic holder, and picked up the Styrofoam take-out container before retreating to the far side of his own bed and settling back against the headboard. He popped open the soda and took a long drink, feeling the caffeine and sugar burst across his tongue and down his throat. Caffeine shouldn't be a religious experience, but on hang-over after-vamp-bite days, he worshipped at the altars of sugar, caffeine and chocolate. He popped open the top of the take-out container. Mmmm. Double cheeseburger and fries. Add grease and salt to the equation and there was hope that he'd begin to feel human again.

Spike watched as Xander devoured the burger and tossed the man a second can of soda when he saw that he'd drained the first. He got a mumbled thanks.

Dinner consumed and third can of soda opened, Xander turned his attention to his visitor once more.

"Okay, spill."

"We're getting out of here," Spike replied simply.

"But I live here. As in, this is my home, Spike."

"No. Not any more."

"What do you mean `not anymore?' What part of `this is where I live' does not compute in the tiny vampire brain?" Xander was up off the bed and in Spike's face.

"The part where you drink yourself stupid and get sucked off by vamp whores." Spike stated blandly.

"What I do is none of your goddamn business. You wanna save somebody, get the fuck out of my motel room and find some other asshole. I'm not your guy. No more fucking whitehat Scooby demon-bait playing the superhero. I'm finished with all that. And I'm finished with you, so get the HELL OUT!!" Xander pulled back a fist and glanced Spike's chin with a right hook when the vampire didn't quite react in time.

"Get out! Just get the hell out! I uninvite you!" Each sentence was punctuated by another wild swing that Spike easily avoided. He reached out to grab the flailing hands and hold them still against Xander's sides. It took little effort to keep the weakened human still.

"Leave me alone. God please, just leave me alone. Why won't you just leave me alone?" Rage bled into despair, and Xander couldn't meet his captor's eyes.

"Shhhh, luv." Spike gathered his friend into a firm embrace as the tears began. He stroked one hand down Xander's back to soothe the broken sobs. They stood there for several minutes with Spike crooning comfort and continuing his gentle strokes. As Xander's breathing became more regular, the vampire guided him back to the bed and coaxed him to lie down. He suspected the pent up emotion was only a glimpse at the pain that Xander carried, but even the release of that much would leave the human exhausted. Xander immediately curled up on his side facing away from Spike while the vampire continued his gentle ministrations by carding his fingers through dark curls.

"Just leave me here, Spike. Please." The low hoarse voice pulled at the vampire's unbeating heart.

"Why, pet? Why do you need to stay here?"

A long silence filled the room as Xander considered how to answer this question. He carefully pushed last night's activities away along with the associated entanglements that guaranteed he was never leaving this hotel alive. He finally settled on a partial answer.

"There's nowhere else for me." Harsh laughter shook the slender frame. "There's nowhere for me. Sunnydale's gone."

"There's a whole world outside Sunnydale, Xan."

"God, do you know how horrible that sounds? A whole world. A whole world that needs to be saved. A whole world of people and demons killing each other. I can't. I just can't. Please, let me stay here. Please, I can't leave. There's no place that's good. No place safe. No place it's okay." The words were gasped out as his panic increased.

"Shh, pet, shhh." Spike curled up behind the shaking man on the bed and held him as the tremors wracked the fragile form. What the hell was going on? He had no idea how to help Xander, and he was beginning to fear that his grand scheme to drag Xander off to LA might be more traumatic than he had anticipated.

"Xander. I want you to listen to me. Okay?" He waited for the nod.

"The night you invited me in, you asked for help. I said I would help you. Not gonna hurt you, mate. Do you hear that?" Another nod.

"Not gonna hurt you. I'm gonna keep you safe. I'm gonna make it okay." He prayed he wasn't lying to the boy. "You hear me? Nobody's gonna hurt you anymore. Not even you. But you'rena hna have to trust me. Can you do that? Can you trust me to help you?" He could feel the man weighing his options, considering his answer.

"I can't, Spike." A deep sigh shuddered through him.

"Can't trust me? Or won't?" Spike fought to keep the hurt from his voice.

"It's not trust," Xander replied tiredly. "Nothing to do with trust, here, really. I let you in, didn't I? It's just. . ."

"What, pet?"

"There's no way out for me. I can't . . . I can't leave." Misery bled through the whispered admission. "I'm not allowed."

"I'm giving you permission. You're allowed to leave."

Another harsh laugh. "Not yours to give, Blondie."

"Whose then? Whose permission do you need?" Spike's genuine confusion played across his sharp features as he turned Xander to face him. Somehow this went beyond simple addiction.

"Leave it." Xander struggled to his feet and paced in front of the bed. "Isn't it enough to know I can't go? There's nothing you can do about it. There's nothing I can do about it. I'm here, and thiswherwhere I'm staying. So just drop it. You're not tied . I . I release you from any imagined promise to help. Just fucking go, Spike."

"No."

"No?"

"No."

"What part of this is not getting through to you, you bleached freak?? Did that amulet thing fry just your hearing or your entire brain!? There is NOTHING you can do here. I'm not going anywhere! And I'm definitely not going fucking anywhere with you!!" Xander stood flushed with anger. Spike could feel the rage pouring off the man along with a bone-deep terror that Xander was barely keeping suppressed. The terror pulled at him, and he ignored the rage, knowing the boy had grasped onto that emotion as the easier, safer place to go.

"Tell me why." His gaze bore into Xander.

"I already told you. Keep up, Spike."

"No, you didn't. Tell me exactly and in explicit detail why you cannot leave this motel."

Minutes ticked by.

"You're not going to leave this alone, are you?"

"Nope. And eternal demon here, mate. I got all the time in the world to wait for your answer."

"Fuck."

"Yep."

"Promise that you'll leave me alone after?"

"Nope."

"Fuck you, Spike."

"Trying to distract me, pet?" Spike smirked.

"Huh? No!" A deep flush spread across Xander's cheeks. Spike scented the air again, expecting embarrassment and twinge of arousal but not the heavy misery and shame. His eyes narrowed as he considered the implications, and he changed tactics.

"Sit." His voice took on an edge of steel as he indicated a spot on the bed next to him.

"Huh?" Xander shifted his weight uneasily, arms wrapped around himself.

"Sit down. Here." Xander carefully perched on the edge of the bedike ike reached out and pulled the boy to him. He nestled him between his legs and pressed his chest against Xander's back, wrapping his hands around the boy's arms.

"Hey!"

"Sit still."

"Let me go!" A low growl reminded Xander that he was dealing with a non-chipped vampire. Souled yes, but still capable of tearing his throat out. He stilled.

"Look, pet," Spike began a gentle rubbing pressure up and down Xander's arms, "I've lived for over a century, seen every degredation known to man and committed most of `em m'self at one time or another. Hell, I've even died a couple of times and come back. There's nothin' you can tell me that's gonna shock or disappoint, mate."

"God, Spike, do you think I actually have any pride left that I'm worried about shocking or disappointing you?

"No but you know I'm gonna see your mates again sometime, and I'm guessing you don't want them getting wind of whatever you've got goin' on here. `Cause you know they'll come rescue you in full slayer force."

"Doesn't matter," Xander mumbled.

"Huh?" Spike's turn to be speechless.

"Doesn't matter," harsher now, "that's over."

"Over," Spike repeated slowly.

"Over. Done. Finito. The end."

"Xander, what's going on? Did something else happen?"

"Besides the usual apocalypse averting? Besides Anya dying? Besides Sunnydale disappearing?" His voice rose before dropping back to a low mumble. "Besides you dying? No, but it was enough." He paused. "Enough. Seven years of fighting and watching people die, Spike. Jesse, Miss Calendar, Teresa, Larry, Joyce, Tara, Buffy, Anya. Losing Willow to evil. I'm done. They don't need me for anymore world-savage, and I'm done losing people."

"Xan, Buffy and Red came back. We beat The First." Spike spoke carefully.

"That's not the point," Xander ground out. "The point is I'm done with it all. I can't take any more. Jesus, Spike, even their fucking graves are gone! Tara and Joyce and . . . Anya. They're gone. Nobody else seems to get that. I never wanted to save the world. I just wanted to keep the people I love safe, and I keep failing. I can't take feeling this. I'm not doing it anymore." He felt the sobs welling in his throat as he remembered the hours spent talking to Joyce and Tara in the cemetery. Telling them how the rest of the Scoobies were doing, assuring them that everyone was still okay and that they were missed. Trying to catch the wisdom of those two kind, generous souls when he felt so lost and cut off from the slayer, wicca ways of his closest friends as he went abous nis nine-to-five job and confronted his own normal human status every time the group faced the current baddie. He stuffed the emotion down, picturing himself nailing it into a box, sealing away the pain.

"Soddin' hell, Xander. So you just decide to hole up here and kill yourself? That's not on."

"Look. . ." Xander's furious reply was interrupted by a pounding on the door.

Spike groaned. His Sire's timing was as inconvenient as ever.

"Sorry, pet. Looks like you just got outvoted." He stood up to answer the door. As he heard Xander's heart rate jump, he turned back. He knelt down in front of Xander and took his chin between long pale fingers as he stared into the large, brown eye.

"This isn't the way I wanted to do this, luv. But I'm not leaving you here. Deep breath. We'll be safe out of here before you know it. I'm not gonna let anything happen to you." He gave Xander's shoulder a ortiorting squeeze and headed to the door as the knocking came again.