Bewitched, Chapter 17
Jul. 25th, 2009 02:15 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
thismazTitle: Bewitched, Chapter 17
Pairing: S/X. I promise it will get back there... eventually.
Rating: This chapter PG-13
Summary: Valentine's Day arrived and Dru dipped her finger in the brew, giving it a stir.
Word Count: 1,900
Betaed by![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
sparrow2000 and DJ, for which, many thanks. Thanks also to Sparrow for her help, conflabbing on plot twists and forms.
Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: here.
Prologue here, with a link to the other chapters, or you can find the whole thing, in reverse order, in tags, or in the correct order, in memories. There's a menu of links on the right hand side of my main journal page.
Many thanks tomwrgana for the beautiful banner.
Chapter 17 - Interlude
Bothered, part 1
Sunnydale, Summer 1999
The morning after graduation, Xander stood opposite the place where the front entrance to the high school had been and stared at the ruins. The sight seemed to sum up his life. It had been a tough senior year, beginning in danger and collective incompetence, when Buffy ran off, leaving them to cope alone, and finishing in danger and grief, with the loss of so many, in the fight that ended with an exploded school full of lumps of mayor meat.
Intellectually, he knew that he was probably still in shock. He'd spent most of the night at the hospital, until he had the full casualty list, and their faces kept surfacing in his mind, robbing him of any desire for sleep. It wasn't just Larry, although he was perhaps the worst. It was Jimmy B and Jimmy D, and Harmony, and Jack Keele, and Antonio, and Dwayne and Wayne, inseparable even now, and Helen, and Suzi, and Heidi, and Kyle, and Jamie, and the two Franks, and Jannine, as well. Suzi had signed his year book, with a heart instead of a dot above the 'i' in her name. Kyle had been boasting about his football scholarship, even as he strapped his axe on under his gown. And Larry... Larry had tried to talk him into resurrecting their disastrous and short-lived relationship, for a one-nighter, saying that Xander would regret not taking a last chance to have sex, if he went and died. Well, it was Larry who died and Xander did regret it. If they'd snuck off, like Larry wanted, and spent the night together in a cheap motel, would Larry have died happier? Would he have died at all?
So many parents, who had come to see their kids walk up onto a stage in a stupid gown and shake the hand of the Mayor before going home to celebrate and boast to their family and neighbours, were now making funeral arrangements instead.
And it was Xander who was still alive. It didn't seem right. He'd led them into the fight and they'd died, leaving him to contemplate the wreckage, before loading his bags into his car and driving away.
The blackened hulk of the school loomed over the surrounding streets. The clock tower was gone, but many of the walls still stood, even if the roofs had fallen in, or out, from the blast and the fire that followed.
He was still numb from the discovery that Larry hadn't made it. There had been no body, so it wasn't until Suzanne Grainger offered him her condolences that he heard the news of that one more death and forced himself to stop searching among the wounded.
They had never really been compatible. They were simply the only two gay guys in school and the dating and kissing, and the sex, had seemed to follow naturally from that.
Turning on the spot, he scanned the parts of the town that he could see from where he stood. Everywhere he was reminded of things that had marked this year and, in the process, had marked him. Down the street, at the far end, was the place where he'd saved Faith from the Sisterhood of Jhe and ended up having his one and only experience of sex with a girl. Just around the corner was the shop doorway where he watched her verbally disembowel Wesley, soon after his arrival. Xander wasn't particularly proud of that memory now, but it had felt like vindication at the time.
Like a man going to the gallows, he started walking around the ruins of the school. The sports field came into view, with the bleachers where he'd finally surrendered to Larry's persistence, at the start of the year. Next to it was the staff parking lot and beyond that, the door near the basement entrance, still hanging incongruously from one hinge. It was in that basement that he'd faced down Jack O'Toole and his bomb, while Buffy and the others were upstairs fighting the hellmouth in the library. That was the night, he thought, when he'd finally started to grow up.
Lifting his face to the sun, Xander looked up at the hills behind the school. Somewhere in amongst those trees was Crawford Street and he wondered if Angel was still there, holed up and waiting for sundown before he left, or whether he'd already gone. He felt no desire to go and check.
The science block was still intact; probably the only part of the school that was. It was from there that Spike had kidnapped Willow in an attempt to get Drusilla back, sending Larry and Oz on a mad chase, while Buffy, Angel and Xander fought a gang war in the magic shop, to protect him long enough to find out what he'd done with her. It was not long after that, Xander remembered, that Larry and he broke up for the last time and Larry stopped coming to scoobie meetings. Larry had been a good man; in spite of how he felt about the supernatural and the life Xander led, he'd kept Buffy's secret. And in the end, he'd taken up a flame thrower and fought with the best of them.
Xander kept walking until he got to the crossroads at Ednamay Street, where he was faced with a choice - to continue to the left, around the back of the school, or to turn right and go to The Bronze. Ahead of him was the road where the Mayor set Faith up in a city-owned apartment, when she finally turned against them. That way also led towards his parents' house and he wasn't ready to return there yet.
The idea of standing outside a closed up nightclub was too depressing, so he turned left. He didn't need to see the drab day-time entrance to The Bronze, to remember the vampire with Willow's face, or the dark corners Larry had found and dragged him into in their early days.
Crossing the road, he continued along the sidewalk behind the school to the corner that would take him around to the front again. On the other side of the junction was City Hall, where the Mayor had hatched his plot to become a demon and where Buffy, Willow and Michael were almost burnt at the stake for being different.
The main school building looked less damaged from this angle, although the windows were all gone and the walls above them were blackened by smoke. He walked on, offering silent homage to each memory as it arose, until he returned to the steps where the senior class had proved itself more than brave. The steps where Larry died, protecting his classmates, fighting to save his town and family.
Studying the ruins, a weight finally lifted from Xander's shoulders. He had done his duty and paid his tribute to the year and to his fallen class mates. The memories and the scars would remain, but with the completion of this task there was a chance that he would find sleep again. Now all he had to do was visit Giles and Buffy and Willow (Oz would be at Willow's house) to say goodbye. Then he could go and pick up his bags, and drive away. He would get out of town, find a quiet rest-area by the side of the road and sleep in the car. He figured he'd being doing a lot of that over the next few months.
***********
Bothered, part 2
Early southern hemisphere spring, Chile, 1999
Spike wanted to scream. He wanted to tear something to pieces, to wreck havoc on the room, the town, on Dru. Instead he turned his back on her and walked over to the wall, leaning his hands against it, so he wouldn't be tempted to hit her. "What boy?" he asked. "You keep talking about this boy. I don't know any boy." Pushing himself upright, he turned around and the misery on her face drained the anger and frustration right out of him. "Baby, you know there's no one for me, but you," he said, returning to her side and drawing her into an embrace. Brushing his lips across her hair, he whispered, "There never has been."
Dru pulled herself free and stepped away, her back straight. "You're lying!" she spat. "I can still see him floating all around you, laughing at me. Why won't you just go?"
Dragging the remains of their supper off the sofa and dropping him on the floor, Spike collapsed in his place. He grabbed the open bottle of Scotch from the side table and took a swig. "For the last time, Dru, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. There is no boy. There never has been a boy. And I don't see why there ever should be a boy. But if you keep on at it, I'll go out and find one, just for the hell of it. Then, maybe, you'll be happy, Yeah?"
She cocked her head to one side, the expression Spike always thought made her look like a sparrow. "Oh," she said. "I forgot."
Closing his eyes in relief, Spike sighed. "Thank you," he said. "Now, can we go back to the festival?" He tossed the empty bottle aside. "I saw a lovely senorita in a black dress that would look wonderful on you." Smiling, he looked up at her. "You'll look like the princess you are. What do you say, love? Fancy some real Spanish lace?"
Picking up her skirts, Dru stepped delicately over the body and sat down, straddling his thighs. "Poor pet," she crooned, stroking the back of her hand down his cheek. "I forgot. But it's time now and you must go." Her voice sharpened and she snapped, "Look at me!"
Surprised by the sudden order, Spike looked up into her eyes. They drew him into their swirling depths and he was free, weightless and calm. Lying on his back, floating in nothingness, he gazed at the night sky, where the stars crackled and flashed, obscured occasionally by wispy clouds. A soft hum filled the air around him, through him, and the clouds began to gather and pulse so that he started to worry that they hid lightning to crash down and burn him. He tried to reach for Dru, but she was fading away, leaving him. The lightening split the sky from left to right, jagged bolts that blinded. He watched, as if frozen in time and space, as one huge flash, far greater than any of the others, formed above him. It spread outwards in slow motion, coming closer and closer as it did so, and when it struck, his whole body went rigid with the shock. Pictures inside it flashed across his eyes faster than he could take in, yet each was as clear as a memory - a street, in Sunnydale. A car. A hotel room and a strong young body. A laugh that sounded like joy made corporeal. Lips like coming home. A bath full of bubbles and a voice that moaned in his ear as its owner surrendered to his caress.
Then it was gone, the knowledge of what he was sank into his brain, a part of him again, and he was back in the little house on the edge of the square. He raised his head and stared at Dru. "What the fuck did you do?" he gasped.
Next Chapter
Pairing: S/X. I promise it will get back there... eventually.
Rating: This chapter PG-13
Summary: Valentine's Day arrived and Dru dipped her finger in the brew, giving it a stir.
Word Count: 1,900
Betaed by
sparrow2000 and DJ, for which, many thanks. Thanks also to Sparrow for her help, conflabbing on plot twists and forms.Comments: Are greatly appreciated, loved and cherished.
Disclaimer: here.
Prologue here, with a link to the other chapters, or you can find the whole thing, in reverse order, in tags, or in the correct order, in memories. There's a menu of links on the right hand side of my main journal page.
Many thanks to
mwrgana for the beautiful banner.Chapter 17 - Interlude
Bothered, part 1
Sunnydale, Summer 1999
The morning after graduation, Xander stood opposite the place where the front entrance to the high school had been and stared at the ruins. The sight seemed to sum up his life. It had been a tough senior year, beginning in danger and collective incompetence, when Buffy ran off, leaving them to cope alone, and finishing in danger and grief, with the loss of so many, in the fight that ended with an exploded school full of lumps of mayor meat.
Intellectually, he knew that he was probably still in shock. He'd spent most of the night at the hospital, until he had the full casualty list, and their faces kept surfacing in his mind, robbing him of any desire for sleep. It wasn't just Larry, although he was perhaps the worst. It was Jimmy B and Jimmy D, and Harmony, and Jack Keele, and Antonio, and Dwayne and Wayne, inseparable even now, and Helen, and Suzi, and Heidi, and Kyle, and Jamie, and the two Franks, and Jannine, as well. Suzi had signed his year book, with a heart instead of a dot above the 'i' in her name. Kyle had been boasting about his football scholarship, even as he strapped his axe on under his gown. And Larry... Larry had tried to talk him into resurrecting their disastrous and short-lived relationship, for a one-nighter, saying that Xander would regret not taking a last chance to have sex, if he went and died. Well, it was Larry who died and Xander did regret it. If they'd snuck off, like Larry wanted, and spent the night together in a cheap motel, would Larry have died happier? Would he have died at all?
So many parents, who had come to see their kids walk up onto a stage in a stupid gown and shake the hand of the Mayor before going home to celebrate and boast to their family and neighbours, were now making funeral arrangements instead.
And it was Xander who was still alive. It didn't seem right. He'd led them into the fight and they'd died, leaving him to contemplate the wreckage, before loading his bags into his car and driving away.
The blackened hulk of the school loomed over the surrounding streets. The clock tower was gone, but many of the walls still stood, even if the roofs had fallen in, or out, from the blast and the fire that followed.
He was still numb from the discovery that Larry hadn't made it. There had been no body, so it wasn't until Suzanne Grainger offered him her condolences that he heard the news of that one more death and forced himself to stop searching among the wounded.
They had never really been compatible. They were simply the only two gay guys in school and the dating and kissing, and the sex, had seemed to follow naturally from that.
Turning on the spot, he scanned the parts of the town that he could see from where he stood. Everywhere he was reminded of things that had marked this year and, in the process, had marked him. Down the street, at the far end, was the place where he'd saved Faith from the Sisterhood of Jhe and ended up having his one and only experience of sex with a girl. Just around the corner was the shop doorway where he watched her verbally disembowel Wesley, soon after his arrival. Xander wasn't particularly proud of that memory now, but it had felt like vindication at the time.
Like a man going to the gallows, he started walking around the ruins of the school. The sports field came into view, with the bleachers where he'd finally surrendered to Larry's persistence, at the start of the year. Next to it was the staff parking lot and beyond that, the door near the basement entrance, still hanging incongruously from one hinge. It was in that basement that he'd faced down Jack O'Toole and his bomb, while Buffy and the others were upstairs fighting the hellmouth in the library. That was the night, he thought, when he'd finally started to grow up.
Lifting his face to the sun, Xander looked up at the hills behind the school. Somewhere in amongst those trees was Crawford Street and he wondered if Angel was still there, holed up and waiting for sundown before he left, or whether he'd already gone. He felt no desire to go and check.
The science block was still intact; probably the only part of the school that was. It was from there that Spike had kidnapped Willow in an attempt to get Drusilla back, sending Larry and Oz on a mad chase, while Buffy, Angel and Xander fought a gang war in the magic shop, to protect him long enough to find out what he'd done with her. It was not long after that, Xander remembered, that Larry and he broke up for the last time and Larry stopped coming to scoobie meetings. Larry had been a good man; in spite of how he felt about the supernatural and the life Xander led, he'd kept Buffy's secret. And in the end, he'd taken up a flame thrower and fought with the best of them.
Xander kept walking until he got to the crossroads at Ednamay Street, where he was faced with a choice - to continue to the left, around the back of the school, or to turn right and go to The Bronze. Ahead of him was the road where the Mayor set Faith up in a city-owned apartment, when she finally turned against them. That way also led towards his parents' house and he wasn't ready to return there yet.
The idea of standing outside a closed up nightclub was too depressing, so he turned left. He didn't need to see the drab day-time entrance to The Bronze, to remember the vampire with Willow's face, or the dark corners Larry had found and dragged him into in their early days.
Crossing the road, he continued along the sidewalk behind the school to the corner that would take him around to the front again. On the other side of the junction was City Hall, where the Mayor had hatched his plot to become a demon and where Buffy, Willow and Michael were almost burnt at the stake for being different.
The main school building looked less damaged from this angle, although the windows were all gone and the walls above them were blackened by smoke. He walked on, offering silent homage to each memory as it arose, until he returned to the steps where the senior class had proved itself more than brave. The steps where Larry died, protecting his classmates, fighting to save his town and family.
Studying the ruins, a weight finally lifted from Xander's shoulders. He had done his duty and paid his tribute to the year and to his fallen class mates. The memories and the scars would remain, but with the completion of this task there was a chance that he would find sleep again. Now all he had to do was visit Giles and Buffy and Willow (Oz would be at Willow's house) to say goodbye. Then he could go and pick up his bags, and drive away. He would get out of town, find a quiet rest-area by the side of the road and sleep in the car. He figured he'd being doing a lot of that over the next few months.
***********
Bothered, part 2
Early southern hemisphere spring, Chile, 1999
Spike wanted to scream. He wanted to tear something to pieces, to wreck havoc on the room, the town, on Dru. Instead he turned his back on her and walked over to the wall, leaning his hands against it, so he wouldn't be tempted to hit her. "What boy?" he asked. "You keep talking about this boy. I don't know any boy." Pushing himself upright, he turned around and the misery on her face drained the anger and frustration right out of him. "Baby, you know there's no one for me, but you," he said, returning to her side and drawing her into an embrace. Brushing his lips across her hair, he whispered, "There never has been."
Dru pulled herself free and stepped away, her back straight. "You're lying!" she spat. "I can still see him floating all around you, laughing at me. Why won't you just go?"
Dragging the remains of their supper off the sofa and dropping him on the floor, Spike collapsed in his place. He grabbed the open bottle of Scotch from the side table and took a swig. "For the last time, Dru, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about. There is no boy. There never has been a boy. And I don't see why there ever should be a boy. But if you keep on at it, I'll go out and find one, just for the hell of it. Then, maybe, you'll be happy, Yeah?"
She cocked her head to one side, the expression Spike always thought made her look like a sparrow. "Oh," she said. "I forgot."
Closing his eyes in relief, Spike sighed. "Thank you," he said. "Now, can we go back to the festival?" He tossed the empty bottle aside. "I saw a lovely senorita in a black dress that would look wonderful on you." Smiling, he looked up at her. "You'll look like the princess you are. What do you say, love? Fancy some real Spanish lace?"
Picking up her skirts, Dru stepped delicately over the body and sat down, straddling his thighs. "Poor pet," she crooned, stroking the back of her hand down his cheek. "I forgot. But it's time now and you must go." Her voice sharpened and she snapped, "Look at me!"
Surprised by the sudden order, Spike looked up into her eyes. They drew him into their swirling depths and he was free, weightless and calm. Lying on his back, floating in nothingness, he gazed at the night sky, where the stars crackled and flashed, obscured occasionally by wispy clouds. A soft hum filled the air around him, through him, and the clouds began to gather and pulse so that he started to worry that they hid lightning to crash down and burn him. He tried to reach for Dru, but she was fading away, leaving him. The lightening split the sky from left to right, jagged bolts that blinded. He watched, as if frozen in time and space, as one huge flash, far greater than any of the others, formed above him. It spread outwards in slow motion, coming closer and closer as it did so, and when it struck, his whole body went rigid with the shock. Pictures inside it flashed across his eyes faster than he could take in, yet each was as clear as a memory - a street, in Sunnydale. A car. A hotel room and a strong young body. A laugh that sounded like joy made corporeal. Lips like coming home. A bath full of bubbles and a voice that moaned in his ear as its owner surrendered to his caress.
Then it was gone, the knowledge of what he was sank into his brain, a part of him again, and he was back in the little house on the edge of the square. He raised his head and stared at Dru. "What the fuck did you do?" he gasped.
Next Chapter
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-07-26 11:12 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-07-27 04:57 am (UTC)Faced with the alternative, which was taking everybody through a long drawn out absence of Spike, this seemed the only thing to do.
I do think Spike need someone who will stop playing with his brain.
*laughs* Umm... season 4 Spike really did need that, it's true. *g*
But you're right, this Spike, in his personal life, really, really does.