What Dreams May Tell

by
Authoress Nebula

Part Seventeen

Xander darted across the lawn, backpack firmly over his shoulder. It was almost six in the morning, and the sun wasn't up just yet. Which meant vamps could still be out and about. Though, with the sun almost over the horizon, maybe not. But Xander wasn't about to take chances.

There was a side door that the janitor always left open in the morning, since he was usually carrying heavy things through, and the door sometimes locked behind him. It made Xander's job of getting into the school that much easier.

Down the hallways, making sure to check for nosy janitors and early teachers, then running as fast as he could into the library.

He threw his backpack onto the table and revved up the computer, anxiously tapping his foot on the tiles as he waited. “Come on, come on, come on,” he muttered, watching the screen light up with the system. Finally.

He swiveled the chair out and took a seat, then pulled himself forward. Connecting to the net was easy at this time of day, and soon the browser was up. Into the favorites folder, and clicking on the link to the genealogy site. The loading time seemed to take forever, and Xander glanced around nervously, though he knew no one was there.

But someone had been there in his dreams. Someone that very well could've...

The site popped up, interrupting Xander's gruesome thoughts. He clicked on the search engine, and quickly typed in 'Harrington, Alexander'. He paused, his finger right above the enter key. Why had they never looked Alexander up?

His finger dropped, and the search engine did its job. Xander didn't have long to wait, and he gulped when he saw three matches. He took a guess and clicked the last one. The page loaded slowly, and Xander read the text as it appeared.

Name: Harrington, Alexander

“Yeah, I knew that,” Xander grumbled. Another section loaded, and Xander jerked forward to read.

Date of Birth: May 18th, 1857

“Yeah, that really helped me. Thank you.” Xander slammed his head into the keyboard, growling. “Stupid dial-up.”

There was a soft ping, and Xander froze. The page was done loading. Which meant any pictures, text, was all on there. Right. He could do this.

Slowly he lifted his gaze to the screen.

No pictures available.

Date of Death: 1880

Xander stared at the date, watching the numbers start to swirl with his vision. He scrolled down to the biography box, looking for clues as to how he'd died.

The only text in the box read, No biography available.

“No,” Xander managed to wheeze out. The white background of the page began to hurt his eyes, but it didn't matter. He had no answer.

Then he was standing, shouting and cursing at the computer. Inside, he was shouting and cursing at himself. How could he be so stupid? To think that they would've said, 'Was bitten by a vampire'? Or 'Fell on a sharp utensil that pierced his neck'? He stopped ranting and sighed, letting his head fall. Back at square one again.

“Did you find what you were looking for?”

Xander yelped and jumped up, staring at Giles. “You seriously live in the office, don't you?” he said.

Giles rolled his eyes. “I'm usually here in the mornings, especially whenever a new threat arrives. Such as Spike.”

Xander winced, and Giles' gaze narrowed. “I'm also usually perceptive, though I seem not to have been as of lately. Something's going on, and it has to do with Spike, that much I'm certain of. Hopefully you can fill in the blanks.”

Xander stared at the librarian, before sighing. “It's a long story,” he warned.

“Take your time,” Giles replied, leaning against the doorway.

Xander sighed again and did just that.

Almost half an hour later found the two seated across from each other at the table. Xander had finished his story, and was now anxiously waiting for Giles' response.

Giles, on his part, was doing his best impression of a fish. His eyes were large and round, and his mouth kept opening and closing. Xander couldn't think of another time of Giles being so flustered. And Xander didn't want Giles flustered. He wanted to know what Giles thought of it all.

Giles blinked a few times, before clearing his throat. He opened his mouth to say something, but Xander cut him off. “I just want you to know that I did NO spell to get these dreams, and for awhile I didn't want them, and I really don't want them NOW, but I've got them, at least, I had them, so I don't know what I'm supposed to do, and I wanted to know what...”

“Xander!”

“Sorry,” Xander said meekly.

Giles sighed and dug in his pocket for his handkerchief. He pulled it out and began to clean his glasses. “I was going to say that the situation IS odd. However, I have more resources then that...that machine could have,” he said, glaring at the computer with distaste. “I'll be more than happy to help you try and find something. There has to be SOMETHING on Alexander's death.”

Xander slowly began to smile. “You'll help?”

Giles nodded. “I'll help.”

Xander's smile broadened, and he jumped forward and onto Giles, wrapping him in a massive hug. After a few startled moments, Giles slowly placed his arms around Xander.

“Oh, you're here already. We thought we would beat you.”

Xander and Giles turned to see Willow and Buffy at the doors, looking slightly sheepish. “Good heavens. Since when do any of you get out of bed before eight?” Giles asked incredulously.

“Hey! Early riser here!” Willow protested.

“He's got a point, though. What are you guys doing here?” Xander asked.

Buffy rolled her eyes. “Isn't it obvious? We're here to continue the project. We don't listen very well.”

Willow nodded emphatically. “Ears full of cotton and stuff.”

Xander gave them a weak smile. “Thanks guys. But, uh, project topic's been changed, due to recent events.”

Buffy and Willow exchanged glances. “'Splainy now,” Buffy demanded.

Voices could be heard outside the library. “I think the rest of the school's here,” Buffy said, before going back to her book.

“Anything new?” Giles asked, setting a book aside.

Willow shook her head. “Nothing except what we found out about an hour ago. You know, that Alexander died after William did. It doesn't give specifics.”

Xander slammed the front of his book closed, causing her to jump. “Was that necessary?” she asked, glaring at him.

“Yes, it was, because I'm making a statement. And that statement is that I'm calling it quits. It's almost time for school, and it would be cool to be early for once. I figured it would be interesting to see the teacher's head spin.”

Buffy frowned. “But we don't know what happened to Alexander yet.”

“Yeah, we do,” Xander said, standing. “William got turned, he came after Alexander. Guess he was a tad more upset about that whole guy liking guy thing then I thought.”

“But you don't know...”

“It has to be, Wills! There's no other option here!”

“Maybe not. Maybe he died of a heart attack,” Buffy said.

Giles gave his charge a look, before turning to Xander. “It's highly unlikely, but Buffy does have a point. Unfortunately, the only person who really knows what happened now is Spike.”

“Did you seriously want to go and ask him?” Xander said sarcastically. “I can see it now: Hello, I want to know if you killed Alexander. Oh yes, drained him well and proper, thanks for asking. It was my pleasure to ask, Spike. Thanks for telling!”

“I think you're taking the sarcasm too far.”

“I do have a point here, Buffy. Point being seen by anyone here?”

“The point has been well made, Xander. We'll just go through the books again and see what we can find.”

If any of the Scoobies had stopped to look, they would've seen Willow perched on the edge of her seat, a thoughtful expression on her face.

Willow crept up to the edge of the building, then took a deep breath and glanced around it. An abandoned warehouse stood in front of her, complete with broken windows and boarded doorways.

Carefully she crept forward, inching her way down the alley. She had a cross in her pocket, but it was only so she could get in and out safely. Xander had told her not to worry about patrol, that he was going with Buffy, and would handle her part of it as well. Of course, she hadn't told him what she'd been planning on doing. She was pretty sure he would've tied her up if she had.

A hand grabbed her shoulder and spun her around, causing her to gasp. She gasped for an entirely different reason as the minion gave her a toothy grin. “Looky what I found,” he growled.

“Do you ever brush your teeth?” Willow asked, wishing she could hold her nose.

The minion gave her a deeper growl. “Okay, bad question to ask,” she agreed, before she was pulled in the direction of the warehouse.

He led her inside, and soon four more minions had gathered around. “She's a tasty looking morsel,” one rasped.

The bad-breath minion growled. Willow wondered briefly if he did anything but growl. “Hands off, she's my treat,” he said.

“Um, actually, I'm no one's,” she said, wrenching her arm from his grasp. Well, tried to, at any rate. “I'm here on a truce, and I want to talk to Spike.”

The minions exchanged glances, before laughing. Willow narrowed her gaze. “It's not funny!” she insisted. “I demand to talk to him!”

“You can talk to him when you're another minion for the master,” one of the vampires said, licking his lips. “I'm starved.”

Willow's eyes widened as she realized just how much trouble she was in. Maybe this hadn't been such a good idea. “Spike! Spike, I just want to talk to you!” she shouted as loud as she could. “SPIKE!”

“Who's makin' all the bloody noise out here?”

Willow breathed a sigh of relief as Spike stepped out of a nearby room. He frowned as he caught sight of her. “Slayer's friend,” he said, his frown increasing. “What the hell are you doin' here?”

“I'm here on a truce,” she told him. “I just want to ask a question. That's all.”

Spike raised his eyebrow at her. “A question?” he said, before smirking. “I don't answer questions, ducks. Sorry. Try the next master vampire, see if they're more eager to answer questions.”

Willow's face dropped. “But it's just...”

“Bored already,” Spike said with a sigh. “Will you lot just eat her?”

The minions nodded eagerly and turned back to Willow. Willow watched in horror as Spike turned around and headed back into his room. The minions closed in on her. “Alexander!” she yelled. “It's about Alexander!!”

Spike froze, but the minions hadn't noticed. They continued towards her, causing her to shriek.

“No, stop!” Spike ordered. The minions paused and turned to him. Spike in turn moved his gaze to Willow, who was thanking every lucky star she could think of. “What do you know about Alexander?” he asked in a wary tone.

Willow finally wrenched her arm from Bad-Breath's grasp. “More than you might think,” she said. “I just have the one question.”

Spike stared, then said, “Get out.”

“We'll take care of her,” another minion said, moving to grab Willow.

“Not the girl, you idiots,” Spike said, rolling his eyes. “Everyone out, now.”

The minions grumbled but did as they were told. Willow glanced over at Spike, who was regarding her with a puzzled and suspicious gaze.

“Just the two of us,” Spike said, stepping forward. “Now, what do you know about Alexander?”

Part Eighteen

“I know lots about Alexander, but I'm not saying anything until you answer my question,” Willow said.

Spike frowned. “I asked mine first!”

“No you didn't,” Willow insisted.

“Yes I bloody well did. You said you were gonna ask a question, but you never did. I actually asked a question. Get my point?”

“Yeah, but I posed the question thing first,” Willow said, crossing her arms.

Spike started to argue, then stopped, giving her a look. “Just ask your question already, or we'll be back and forth all night like this.”

Willow gave a sheepish smile. “Sorry. But yeah, the question. I wanted to know why you killed Alexander.”

Barely a vampire for two nights, and the first person William went after was Alexander. It seemed that the bad luck was another thing Alexander and himself shared.

Xander sat on his bed, bedroom door firmly closed. His parents were downstairs watching something, and if he'd strained his ears, he could've heard the laugh track of a sitcom. But he couldn't hear it. His mind wouldn't let him.

“Much as I'd love to have the whelp, I'm actually not hungry now. S'pose I'll head off then, eh?”

“Whelp?”

“Yeah, that'd be you. Whoever the hell you might be.”

“Who is she?”

“The inspiration for my poems. Isn't she beautiful?”

“Get away from me.”

“Isn't she beautiful?”

“That's...that's wrong. And sick. And...and Alexander, how could you?”

“William, please, I lo...”

“Don't say it!”

“Alexander, how could you?”

“Don't say it!”

“Get away from me.”

“Alexander, how could you?”

Xander clutched his head, mentally telling the voices to shut up. He'd heard it once before, he didn't need it all pounded into his head again and again.

William hated him. So much so, that he'd killed Alexander. Alexander had destroyed everything. Had done so because he'd let emotions, emotions he shouldn't have, out into the real world. Out where William could hear them.

Xander didn't register the tears until they reached his chin, and by then it was too late to stop them. He let himself cry, thoroughly disgusted with himself as he did so. He was pathetic.

The phone rang suddenly, causing him to sit up straighter. He quickly wiped away the tears with his shirt sleeve, then cleared his throat before picking up the phone. “Hello?”

“Xander, it's Buffy. Have you heard from Willow?”

Xander shrugged, then realized she couldn't see him. “A little after school, she called me and told me she couldn't patrol. Said she was behind on homework.”

“Willow? Behind on homework? Doesn't that strike you as a little odd?”

Xander frowned. Now that he thought about it... “Yeah, it does. But maybe she just wasn't feeling good, so she lied about it. I don't know.”

“Well, I wish she'd told me. I was worried that she'd gotten eaten or something. And same about you! Where are you? I thought you were patrolling tonight.”

“I, uh, was. But my mom made that casserole tonight, that carrot and beef one? It didn't sit very well in my stomach, and you don't need a ready-to-heave Xander tagging along after you.”

He could almost see Buffy chewing on her bottom lip. “Okay. And in the future, please remind yourself that just because it tastes good at the time, doesn't mean you should eat it.”

“I think it might've been the three platefuls,” Xander said.

“Xander!” she laughed, and he smiled slightly.

“I know, I know. I'll be better from now on, I promise. Sorry I didn't call.”

“It's okay. I was just worried. Glad to know you're, uh, doing all right, in a sense. Try an antacid, see if that doesn't help. Okay?”

“Okay.”

“I gotta run; Giles is getting testy. I'll see you tomorrow!”

Xander said his goodbyes, then hung up the phone. He glanced over at his dinner plate on his desk, which still held his single slice of pizza he hadn't touched all night. “And the oscar goes to...” he murmured. He hated lying to her like that, but he couldn't patrol. He'd just get himself killed.

Of course, it wasn't much different here, was it?

He made his way to the desk, but instead of reaching for the pizza, he grabbed one of the drawers and opened it. Inside was his notebook and a few pencils. He pulled them out, and opened to a clean sheet of paper.

As he did so, he passed the picture of William. Xander stared at it for a few moments, eyes on the smile and bright, happy eyes. Eyes that had been wide with horror not too long ago. Horror he'd put there.

He flipped to a new page and began to write.

Part Nineteen

Spike gave Willow a look that made her want to rush to a mirror and see if she'd grown a second head. It was Sunnydale, and that meant anything could happen. “Well?” she asked.

“I...I...” Spike stammered, before shaking himself. “I didn't kill Alexander!”

Willow blinked. “You didn't?”

“NO!” Spike yelled. “I would never do that! Not to...to him,” he said in a softer tone. “No. I didn't kill Alexander.”

“Alexander died in 1880,” Willow began, but Spike cut her off.

“I'm very well aware of when he died, unfortunately. And I know how. What I wanna know is how YOU know all of this. Highly doubt you were there back then...”

“Willow,” Willow supplied.

Spike nodded. “Right. I like Red better. So, Red, how do you know?”

Willow blinked, trying to get used to her new name. “A friend of mine has been having dreams ever since the night you crashed our Parent-Teacher night. Like when Alexander and William first met. Then they became friends. He saw all the way up to the night Cecily put William down, and that whole fight afterwards. Which, by the way, William was extremely mean to Alexander,” Willow told him, glaring.

“No, I wasn't mean,” Spike said, sighing and hanging his head. “I was downright cruel. Even after what that Cecily bint had done to me, I should never have pushed Alexander away like that. Maybe things would've been different.”

Willow bit her lip, before stepping forward and hesitantly patting him on the shoulder. “Past is past, you can't change it. But you can keep going forward.” He glanced up at her, and she gave him a tiny smile before going on. “What exactly did happen after the...”

The wooden doors of the warehouse slammed open, and Buffy ran into the room. “Willow!” she yelled, her eyes landing on her friend and how very close she was to a master vampire. She immediately fell into a fighting stance, eyes locked on Spike. Spike growled and did the same.

Willow's eyes widened as she took in the fight that was about to happen. “Whoa, whoa, Buffy, wait!” she shouted, running forward to her friend. “I'm okay. I came here on my own.”

“I know that,” Buffy said, glaring at her. “Behind on homework? That was lame.”

Willow shrugged. “It was all I could think of. But he didn't kill Alexander!”

Buffy straightened, glancing over at Spike with a puzzled frown. “You didn't?”

“No! How many times do I have to say it?” Spike said, stepping out of his fighting stance as well. “I. Did. Not. Kill. Alexander!”

“Then how DID Alexander die?” Buffy asked.

Spike rolled his eyes. “If you'd let me explain, I would.”

William hurried down the street to Alexander's house, determined to talk to Alexander one last time.

Yesterday night, after he'd given his mother eternal freedom, he'd headed to Alexander's house, intent on doing the same thing. He'd denied his feelings for so long, had focused on a woman instead, forcing himself to love as a man ought to. And she had been a beautiful woman, and her rejection had hurt. And Alexander's true feelings had caused him shock. William had been a coward and had fled from Alexander and his own true feelings. The feelings that had stirred whenever Alexander had grinned at him, had laughed and had his brown eyes twinkle with such a light.

With his newfound abilities, William had also realized that life was too short to worry about society. He DID want a romance, such as traveling the world with your partner and seeing it all together type of romance. Except he wasn't denying who he wanted as a partner now. Alexander had said something about wanting to see America at one time, and now they had the ability to do it.

But after Alexander's mother had invited him in, she'd promptly told him that Alexander hadn't come out of his room for almost two days, and she was slightly worried for him. William had been more than alarmed, and had run up the stairs, desperate to apologize and talk to his friend.

Alexander hadn't even replied, and had simply kept the door closed. After a few minutes of talking to a wooden door, William had left, no apology made, no eternal freedom offer given.

But after having staked his mother not too much earlier, he wasn't as sure about turning Alexander as he had been before. Not if a monster replaced the usually bright and smiling face that greeted him in the park. The one he hadn't seen very often because of his foolishness, his denial. Well, that would soon change.

He easily let himself into the house, and continued up to Alexander's door, which was still closed. He knocked as quietly as he could, so as not to wake the rest of the household. “Alexander,” he whispered. “Alexander, it's me, William. It's...it's urgent.”

No response. William almost rolled his eyes. He knew Alexander to be a heavy sleeper, but his whisper hadn't been THAT soft. “Alexander, please,” he tried again, a little louder. “I have to tell you something important.”

No response again. He sighed and turned the knob, slowly pushing the door inwards. “You see, it's like this. I'm...” He stopped, staring at the room with wide eyes.

Papers were thrown everywhere, in little balls, ripped to shreds, or just simply lying around. But they all had pictures of him. So many expressions, all done with such a passion as William had never seen before.

The person with all that passion was lying on the floor, cold and dead.

William swallowed. “Alexander?” he managed to gasp.

His gaze caught sight of a book near Alexander, and he forced himself to move towards that direction. He picked up the book and found that it was a journal. Penned in Alexander's beautiful handwriting, he skimmed through a few passages, reading of how deeply Alexander felt for him. How he wished he didn't have the feelings. How he thought himself a fool, but couldn't help it. And then...

'I do not know why he has come to see me. Perhaps to tell me...to stay away from him, to not try and see him anymore. To die, perhaps. Something horrid, I'm sure of that. And I well deserve it.

'True love doesn't exist for anyone, and least for a fool. I was, at least, right about one thing.'

'Tuesday

'He left without seeing me yesterday. I suppose he could no longer bear my silence. Or maybe he decided not to see me at all. I don't know.

'But I do know that this world, without his love, his friendship even, this world is meaningless. I don't care for it anymore. I'm tired of feeling these emotions that most probably damn me to hell, but I love him. And I can never have him.

'I can't forget him either, and I wish I could. This pain of what I've done burns within me, makes me cry for something I will never have. Cry for what little I did have, I lost.

'I'm so sorry William. If you ever read this, please forgive me for it, and perhaps even remember the happy times we had. Because I know we can never go back to it. And I don't see any forward, either.

'I'm sorry.'

William read the words through twice, then dropped the journal onto the ground. His eyes turned to the body of his friend, and it was only then that he noticed the letter opener in his chest. His white blouse was soaked red, the red William had discovered to be so delicious. But now the sight of it made him nauseous.

Alexander was gone, and unlike William, he wasn't coming back. William was too late. Too late to tell his true feelings, too late to apologize, too late to take Alexander with him, too late to stop Alexander from plunging the letter opener into his chest.

William ran from the house, and didn't stop until he was three blocks away. There, in an alley, he fell to his knees and sobbed. Alexander hadn't been the fool; he had been.

Buffy and Willow stared at him, mouths hanging open. “He...he killed himself?” Willow asked, swallowing.

Buffy began blinking rapidly, trying desperately to keep the tears at bay.

Spike nodded miserably. All three had taken seats through Spike's tale, and the tension between the Slayer and the vampire had quickly lessened. “Yeah. And it's my fault, you know? He killed himself because of me. Because I was a ponce, and I didn't...didn't tell him...”

“No, it's not your...”

“Spike, you're not to blame for...”

“Did you two hear anythin' I just said?” Spike asked incredulously. “Alexander died, and he died because of me. I did that. And you lot know it.”

Buffy and Willow sat back, at a loss of words again. Spike cleared his throat, shaking his head as if to get rid of the bad memories. “Right then. Still haven't explained how you know all the back story and such to my satisfaction.”

“Our friend Xander has been having these dreams,” Buffy told him. “About how William and Alexander literally bumped into each other, how...”

“Wait, Xander?” Spike asked, frowning. “Who's that?”

Willow gave him a look. “The 'whelp' from the other night, remember? In the cemetery? Well, with all these dreams, and I guess a few mirror checks in said dreams, he's pretty sure that he's really...”

“Alexander,” Spike breathed, his eyes lighting up. Willow watched as a genuine smile began to grow on his face. She had to admit, he looked pretty nice when he was smiling, and not smirking or growling at someone.

Spike turned to Willow, focused again. “How is he?” he asked, and Willow and Buffy exchanged quick glances. He sounded almost...nervous, like a boy about to go on his first date. It was kind of cute.

“Usually, he's extremely perky and happy,” Buffy told him. “But today...not so much. He's been really down because of these dream things. But he'll be happy to hear that William didn't kill Alexander. He was really upset about that.”

Willow frowned, turning to her friend. “Aren't you supposed to be patrolling with him right now?”

“This IS patrol, technically. I told Giles I was worried about you, and was therefore going to check on you. I would dust vamps on the way, which I did. Your minions are floating in the breeze, by the way,” Buffy told Spike.

Spike shrugged. “Bad batch anyways. Don't really care.”

“Is Xander still with Giles?” Willow asked, watching Spike perk up again at the mention of Xander. So cute... “I figured we could head back to Giles, and Spike could talk to Xander about the whole thing.”

“Well, that's a super plan, except for the part of Xander not being on patrol,” Buffy said. “He had three platefuls of his mother's special carrot and beef casserole, and isn't feeling the swiftest.”

Willow frowned. “Right after I told him about my homework lie, I asked if he could cover patrol for me. He said yeah, that was fine, but then he had to go, because pizza had just arrived.”

All three exchanged looks. “Why would he tell us different stories?” Willow mused out loud.

“I don't know,” Buffy said. “I mean, he probably lied because he wasn't feeling good. You know, what with being depressed and all about William. He still thinks that William killed Alexander.”

Spike sat up straighter, causing the girls to turn to him. “He's depressed?” he asked. “And you two left him alone? After that story I just told you?”

“We hadn't heard the story yet,” Willow defended, even as she stood. Buffy and Spike were already heading towards the door, and Willow ran to catch up. Soon all three were rushing to Xander's house, praying that Spike's guess wasn't right.

Part Twenty

Happy b-day snogs to tabaqui! This chapter's dedicated to you, hun.

There. It was finished. Xander set the notebook down on the bed, tossing the pencil next to it. He'd hopefully gotten everything he wanted down. If he hadn't...well, they just wouldn't be hearing it.

He sniffled, then wiped his eyes again. He was so sick of this. Being miserable, all because of something that had not only happened over a hundred years ago, but was also something he couldn't change.

He was really doing everyone a favor. If William had had no problem killing such a close friend as Alexander, then what chance did Xander stand if he ever crossed paths with Spike again? Though, Alexander hadn't been a close friend anymore by the end of it all. Still...

Reaching down into his pant pocket, he pulled out a small Swiss Army knife. The kind where the nail clippers and scissors were included. But all he was interested in was the fold-in blade.

He flipped the blade out, then stared at his reflection in the metal. All he could see was a red-eyed teenager. No Victorian gentleman, no man at all really.

“Get away from me.”

He shuddered, then turned the knife so the blade tip was aimed at his chest. He stared at the knife for a little longer, then grasped the handle with both hands. He closed his eyes before plunging the blade to his chest.

Two inches from impact his hands were knocked away. Xander's eyes snapped open, and he gasped as he was tackled to the floor. The knife was pulled from his grasp, and he began to fight against his attacker. His attacker who was dressed in black leather. Xander stilled, then slowly raised his gaze up. He blinked as his eyes met piercing blue ones. Blue eyes he'd been dreaming about for almost two weeks. Spike.

Spike was panting as he gave him a weak smile. “Least I got there in time this time,” he said quietly.

It took Xander only a few seconds to figure out what he meant, and when he did, his eyes widened. William hadn't killed Alexander? Alexander had...had killed...a sob escaped before he could stop it, and soon he was crying hysterically.

Spike pulled him up, and Xander continued to cry into his shirt. Between sobs, he could hear Spike murmuring, “Alexander, I'm sorry, I'm so sorry,” which only made him cry harder.

The sobs turned to sniffles, and Xander finally pulled away slightly, eyes red and sore. Tentatively he reached out, fingers brushing lightly over Spike's chest. He knew he'd just been leaning against the same chest sobbing, but this was...different. New and old at the same time.

His gaze drifted up to Spike's face, which, to his surprise, looked like he'd been crying too. Master vampires cry? he thought to himself.

Spike seemed to realize this, and he choked out a laugh as he brushed the tears away. “Not exactly keepin' the rep, am I?” he asked.

Xander gave him a watery grin. “Nah, but neither am I. Manliness has completely been washed down the pipes.”

Spike returned the grin, before his gaze fell on the notebook above them. He reached up and pulled it down, eyes already reading the final note before Xander could stop him. Spike looked up at him, eyebrows raised. “I didn't like the first note any better than this one,” he said quietly.

Xander could feel the heat filling his cheeks. A cool hand cupped his face, and Xander unconsciously leaned into the touch. “Doesn't matter anymore,” Spike told him. “We're both here now, aren't we?”

Xander nodded, before he frowned. “Uh, not that I'm grateful that you're here, but how exactly DID you know about...”

“All of it?” Spike asked, jerking his head backwards. Xander's gaze lifted to his door, and he was surprised to see Buffy and Willow there, panting.

“Glad Spike...got here...before we did...” Willow gasped, giving Xander a glare even as she tried to breathe. Xander felt himself shrinking down to a six inch size. Leave it to Willow to make him feel small even when she could barely stand up straight.

Buffy also glared at him, even though she'd recovered from the run. “I can think of other things that have been better ideas from you, Xander.”

Xander shifted uncomfortably on the floor. Willow and Buffy exchanged glances, before sighing. “Like the two of you,” Buffy relented, giving him a tiny smile. “A much better idea.”

Spike cleared his throat, catching Xander's attention. “Wanted to apologize for William,” he said softly. “For...well, me, the wanker I was then. Didn't know a good thing when I had it. Should've told you sooner, but I was a bloody coward.”

Xander started to tell him it was all right, then stopped. “Wait. Told me sooner? You mean you...”

Spike nodded, looking guilty. “Really?” Xander asked.

“Really,” Spike told him.

Xander began to smile. Willow and Buffy exchanged glances again, this time a glance that definitely said, 'Aren't they the cutest?'

Spike began to close the notebook and set it aside. As he did so, however, he flipped over the picture of William briefly. In a flash the notebook was open once more, and Spike stared at the drawing of his human self. His smile broadened, before it turned into a smirk. “I was a handsome devil, wasn't I?” he said.

“Spike,” the girls chorused, sounding exasperated.

“Still are,” Xander told him softly.

Spike set the notebook down, before turning to Xander and tilting his head. “Really?” he asked, smile still in place.

Xander nodded. “Really.”

When Spike didn't say anything for awhile, Xander began to fidget. “What?” he asked. “Is there something on my face?”

“Your eyes,” Spike said.

“Yes, I do have eyes on my face. Glad they're still there,” Xander said sarcastically.

Spike gave him a look. “Another thing that was the same between you and Alexander: you both have the same smart-ass humor. But I meant your eyes. Both chocolate brown, yours and his. Should've recognized you earlier. It's so bloody obvious, 'specially with the eyes.”

“Really?” Xander asked.

Spike nodded. “It was the first thing I remembered the most. The way the sun used to shine off your eyes...was a sentimental fool back then,” he added quickly.

“Still are,” Buffy told him. Spike turned to glare at her.

“In a good way,” Willow hastily amended. “Don't worry.”

Xander merely beamed. William really had wanted him? It was everything he'd wanted. Everything he'd wished for as Alexander, and as Xander. Not even ten minutes ago, things had been so messed up. But now, everything was...

“Xander?”

“Perfect,” Xander murmured, turning to Spike. “It's perfect.”

Spike grinned. “Glad you think so. Means we're on the same page then.”

“Except for the details I haven't heard yet,” Xander said, giving him a look. “And those details I still expect.”

“Bloody 'ell,” Spike muttered. “Was hopin' you wouldn't ask...all right, here goes.” He began to explain everything he'd told the girls, about why he'd gone over to Alexander's house, the offer he'd been going to make, and then finding Alexander the next day.

“I'm glad I didn't turn you, though,” Spike finished. “Because I wanted Alexander, but it wouldn't have been Alexander by my side for all these years. It would've been Alexander changed, and I didn't want that.”

“I'm glad too. I kinda like breathing,” Xander muttered.

Spike rolled his eyes. “I'm not gonna kill you, don't worry.”

Willow raised her hand and cleared her throat, just as if she was in class. Xander grinned at the image she made. “Um, I was just wondering if we were going to get that same 'Get Out of Killing' card that Xander did,” she said, looking hopeful.

“Well, yeah,” Spike told her. “I mean, you lot gave me another chance at Alexander, so I owe you.” He paused, before turning to Xander, looking slightly nervous. “I do get a second chance, right?”

“I'm not Alexander,” Xander warned. “If you're looking for a second chance with him, then...”

Spike snorted. “Well, I know that. But I'm not really William anymore either, so it works out nicely then. Doesn't it?” he asked, and Xander was surprised to see him hopeful and nervous. He hadn't seen Angel show this many emotions in a single year.

Xander nodded, then nodded again with more confidence. “Yeah. It works out great.”

It was Buffy's turn to clear her throat, causing Spike to give her an annoyed glance. “I just wanted to let you know that I'm not going to try and stake you,” she said. “But if you hurt Xander, all bets are off, got it?”

Willow nodded emphatically. “I'll help. I've got shovels, and I know how to use them.”

Spike blinked. “Right. Got it. But I'm not plannin' on screwin' it up this time. I'd even give up takin' over Sunnyhell for him,” he said proudly, turning to Xander with a grin.

“Gee, we're so thankful,” Buffy muttered under her breath.

Xander was sure his smile was going to crack his face in two. He'd thought things were working out before, but this was even better. Finally, he could be happy. He could have Spike. No more worries.

He stopped, a new thought coming to mind. “Uh, Spike?” he asked, his good mood vanishing.

“Yeah, luv?”

“What about Drusilla?”

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