Taming the Muse Prompt 54, BoaS Part 38, To thine own self..., BtVS, PG

[thismaz]

.
I discovered something today - apparently my friends page stops at skip=900. I didn't know that. It's only two and a half weeks, for goodness sakes. I don't know how much I've missed as a result. Hopefully any ongoing series will post another chapter soon and then I'll just be confused at the apparent lack of continuity. *Growls*

But this morning I heard some really nice news. BoaS won a runners up award at the forbiddenawards. And a Judges Choice. I got pretties to prove it


Thank you to vamptastica for making them.

And the Judges said: This is a slow burn story of the very best kind. It starts as a rewrite of S2 with Spike up to his neck in his usual schemes. But as always, things don't go according to plan and that's when the fun and the complications really start. This is Spike and Xander storytelling at its very best and demonstrates that sometimes the slow burn is the only way to go.

And: A wonderful blend of canon and fanon. Both Spike and Xander's characterizations are right on the money and the slow burn of their relationship is mesmerizing. A joy to read.



A short one this week. I wrote the first draft of this last night, which made for a pleasant and relaxed day today. *g* So I went back and did some tidying up of earlier chapters. Nothing huge, mostly small corrections of things that got missed in the beta'ing process. Please do let me know if you see any more. A quote from Shakespeare as a title seemed appropriate.


Title: To thine own self...
Part 38 of the Blood on a Sundial series.
Previous parts, in reverse order, are here or in my memories.
Fandom: BtVS
Prompt: #54 - Cry Havoc
At: tamingthemuse
Summary: Spike, Xander, AU in Season 2. We are talking slow burn here, people.
Disclaimer: here.
Rating: Pg
Word Count: 1,070



38. To thine own self...

Spike's walk home through the late night streets was a confused tangle of reassessment as he called up every available memory from the last three weeks and examined them in the light of his new knowledge: the boy's sulkiness in the days following their confrontation with the watchers, but his determination at the same time to learn all that Spike could teach him of hand-to-hand combat, the fact that he'd volunteered the secret to finding the book, but his coldness in the days that followed. Suddenly Black Wind's words to Xander as they left his place took on stark new meaning.

On reaching home, he climbed the stairs and hesitated at the door, almost afraid to enter, not sure if he wanted to find Xander there, or not. It became moot, anyway - the flat was empty.

For a few moments he stood, shoulders slumped and arms hanging uselessly at his sides, staring at the bed, before he realised that sleep was far beyond him right now. Instead he shrugged off his duster and flung it over the back of the sofa as he made his way to the kitchen, where he grabbed a glass and the bottle of Jack Daniels with one hand and a fresh packet of fags and the ashtray with the other. Turning to the table he set the bottle down, allowing the glass to skitter from his fingers at the same time. Slamming down the ashtray and the packet of cigarettes next to it, he fell into the nearest chair. He slumped forward, elbows resting on the table, as he ran his hands back across his head and lacing his fingers together at the back of his neck. For a while, he stared sightlessly down at the golden grain of the table then, with a sigh, he reached for the bottle, unscrewed the top and sloshed a large measure into the glass. Raising it to his lips, he took a long gulp, gasping as the spirit hit the back of his throat sending fumes snaking up into his sinuses. With his other hand he awkwardly tore open the cigarette packet and extracted one. It was only as he was digging in his pocket, searching for his zippo, that he felt the intellectual centres of his brain re-engage and begin to shove possible motivations, reasons, explanations into his consciousness.

Xander had said he knew that the bracelet wasn't working, but he hadn't said for how long he'd known. And suddenly Spike was sure it wasn't immediately after it broke down. The boy's behaviour in the days following Roger Wyndham-Pryce's death and Wesley's release had been sullenly hostile. If he'd known then that he was free, Spike had no doubt he would have run.

Everything Spike knew about the boy, told him that Xander should have left anyway. So why didn't he? Taking a drag from his cigarette, he thought back to that eventful night. They'd done the job, retrieved the Anashaman, found out what Black Wind wasn't telling them about it, locked Wesley away safe, gone to Black Wind's shop and stayed to barter and to reminisce, then they'd gone home. Hang on! Telephone call. On the way back from Black Wind's shop Xander had made a phone call to his little friend and afterwards, he'd talked about change. Spike had been so caught up by the sudden memory of Dru and her blasted tarot cards, he'd forgotten about Xander's confidences. But thinking about it now, the boy had seemed lost, bereaved almost.

Spike lifted the glass to his lips again and emptied it. Slamming it back down, he picked up the bottle and refilled it. "You keep missing him," she said. "Squandering your chances for the promise of more." What the fuck was Dru talking about? What the hell did that card mean? Lurching to his feet, he crossed the room and switched on the computer, returning for his supplies as he waited for it to do its booting up thing. The internet seemed to be the twentieth century equivalent of the British Library Reading Room, there had to be something about tarot cards in there.

*****

The sun had long risen and the bottle was three quarters empty before Spike caught the sound of heavy footsteps on the stairs. He stiffened in his chair and swung around to watch the door handle, waiting for it to move. Nothing happened. The footsteps continued past and on up to the floors above.

Picking up the bottle, Spike threw it across the room where it smashed against the brick wall scattering shards of glittering glass across the floor and leaving a dripping stain of pungent liquid, marring the smooth perfection of the paintwork. He got to his feet, walked over to the door, opened it and trudged up the stairs.

He found Xander, as he expected, on the roof, sitting in his deck chair out of Spike's reach, but there all the same. "You came back," he observed, speaking to Xander's profile.

"As you see."

Sitting down on the top step, Spike tilted his head back against the wall and gazed at the picture of boy and chair and sky, framed by the limitations of the doorway. "Why?"

Rolling his head against the back of the seat, Xander turned to look back at Spike. "Because I have nowhere else to go."

In spite of knowing it was a stupid thing to say, Spike opened his mouth and said it anyway: "You could go back to Sunnydale."

Xander's smile was bitter and twisted. "No. I really can't." He closed his eyes and a frown formed between them. "What's it been," he asked, "three months? Four? It feels like longer." He opened his eyes again. "I'll be 18 in a couple of months," he added inconsequentially. "Right now, the High School's closing down for the summer. Soon it'll be the start of a new school year. Senior year. I'm not supposed to grow up until after that." He shook his head. "I never thought I'd get out of that place alive. And I certainly never thought I'd get out of it like this. I know it was you that cried havoc, not me, but the idea of going back..." He turned his face away from Spike and gazed up at the sky as he trailed off.

"So you staying?"

"Yeah, I guess I am."

"Right then," Spike announced cheerfully. "We'd best see about you getting your GED then."



Note: For those outside of North America, the GED is the General Educational Development test, for people who don't have a high school diploma for some reason and acts as proof of equivalent achievement.

Next Part


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Comments

[smwright.livejournal.com]

Wow. Wow. And congratulations.

Wonderful chapter. I'm actually rather glad you didn't take it any farther/longer. I think you might have diluted the rather large implications if you had. Spike's near numbness as he begins to turn things over in his mind and then the explosion as understanding comes were beautifully written. Then Xander's own perfectly in-character almost apathetic acceptance... that was painful to read (and still reassuring to me somehow *g*).

Just very well done. Yes, I'm glad you didn't do more here.

"You could go back to Sunnydale." That was the big step, wasn't it? I'm glad, too, that you didn't belabour the point here. You made it, but you didn't hit us over the head with it.

Very, very well done, love.

[thismaz.livejournal.com]

Heee, thanks. No, you're right, I couldn't take this further this week. For all that it is short, it is important.

and still reassuring to me somehow
*g* Reassuring to me too, because anything else would have knocked my future plans right out the window, again.

Thank you for your lovely comments and continued encouragement.