NOTHING
IS FOREVER 9
by
flaming
muse
"You're not in costume," Anne said, putting her hands on her
hoop-skirted hips and glaring at Spike from the doorway to his
office.
"Sod off," he said not altogether unpleasantly.
"But it's
Hallowe'en, and you're not in costume."
"It's not a big holiday for
me."
"There's a party here tonight. A costume party."
"Right, and
I'm not a guest," he said.
"All of the servers are in
costume."
Spike gave Anne a critical once-over, surprised to conclude
that she didn't look half-bad in the Victorian dress. A picture of a terrified
young Buffy dressed in a Georgian gown and heavy wig flashed into his mind, and
he shoved it away.
"And who are you? Scarlett bloody O'Hara?"
"As
a matter of fact, yes," Anne said. She twirled and fluffed her skirts. "I
thought it was only fair for the managers to dress up, since the rest of the
floor staff had to. Jason's a skeleton."
"Then he should eat more. You
should get on that. Right now."
"Very funny. So where's your
costume?"
Spike glanced down at his t-shirt and jeans.
"I'm
dressed up as an owner of a restaurant who doesn't like fancy dress parties," he
said.
"Come on. What about solidarity with your staff?"
"They
wouldn't be in costume if they weren't getting paid extra for it. Consider me
not dressing up a perk of owning the place."
"You know the guys who're
throwing this party are going to be annoyed that you're not in the spirit of
things," Anne said.
"Bugger that. I'm going to shake their hands and talk
to them for five minutes. Why the hell would they care what I'm
wearing?"
"According to Cassie, they're taking this party very
seriously." She crossed her arms over her chest and tossed her ringlets out of
her eyes.
"You're going to stand there and pester me until I give in or
fire you, aren't you?"
"Yep."
"Then you're fired. Get out of my
office," Spike said with a wave of his hand.
"No, I'm not," Anne said,
smiling pleasantly. "You couldn't run this restaurant without me."
"Let's
try."
"You and Xander are such babies."
Xander. A rush of arousal
flashed through him as he was momentarily surrounded by the feelsmelltaste of
Xander. His blood surged through his body, and his fingers twitched reflexively
at the memory of warm flesh.
Bloody hell.
Spike forced
himself to focus back on Anne.
"Look, I have things to do." He grabbed a
piece of scrap paper and wrote down a few items. "Send someone out to get these
for me, and I'll put together a bloody costume for you."
"We've got wigs
and stuff," Anne said, taking the list. "You don't have to do
anything."
"I'm not letting you lot dress me up. Just get me that, and
I'll take care of it."
"Great!" Anne grinned and swished out of the
room.
Spike leaned his elbows on his desk and buried his face in his
hands after his office door closed. It was bad enough that he couldn't get his
mind off of the man when he was alone, but to have such a reaction to Xander's
name in innocent conversation was untenable.
You'd think after well
more than a century of life, plus having suffered through those god-awful last
months of being unsouled, I'd finally learn that sex changes things and never
for the better, Spike thought sourly. Can't leave well enough alone, can
I? Oh, no, I decide that as part of my plan not to get in any way involved with
Xander 'Scooby for Life' Harris mutual hand-jobs would be a good idea. Not that
I even wanted to stop there, not with those lips on mine and all of that skin
waiting to be tasted.
He rocked back in his chair and stared at the
painting across the room.
I am never going to bloody learn. Great
plan, Spike. Distract him with kisses. It would have worked, too. I could have
gotten out of that apartment while he stood there gaping at me, but I had to
stay for a shag. I should really get a bird of my own, some pretty demon to take
the edge off. If I hadn't been so horny I wouldn't've been
tempted.
But Spike knew that he wouldn't find a girlfriend, demon or
otherwise. Since the soul, he couldn't imagine having another Harmony around.
Even if she wasn't shallow and stupid, any normal vampire would grate on him. He
wouldn't be able to stand by while she killed indiscriminately. And, as aroused
as he might be, he didn't see the attraction of most other species of demons for
any long period of time.
Humans were right out, too. He'd been with a few
since he'd been back, but never for more than a couple of nights. They were too
fragile and too unpredictable. Good for a shag and some laughs and maybe a pint
of the good stuff if they were willing, but not for more. He was either a freak
show to them or he had to hide his nature, neither of which appealed.
It
had to be his unsatisfied libido that was making him fixate on Xander. It had
been a nice tussle against the wall, but it hadn't been anything near a
revelation. So Xander was hot and knew what to do with his hands? It was nothing
Spike hadn't had before. He had been stupid to let it go as far as it had, since
now there was even more of a mess between them. He was supposed to be staying
away from Xander, and instead he had made things more complicated. He just hoped
that it was complicated enough that they could avoid each other
entirely.
It was obvious that Xander had feelings about their encounter,
though Spike wasn't entirely sure what they were. He had seemed happy enough in
the apartment, at least until Spike had come to his senses and left, but he had
been more confrontational than necessary the other day, which made it clear that
he hadn't considered the encounter something simply to enjoy and forget. Since
Xander had always been sentimental, Spike wasn't really surprised. He was
probably kicking himself, and he'd likely start on Spike next.
But Xander
had always hated him; what was one more reason?
One of these days,
mate, you'll learn to keep your hands to yourself.
*
Applying
eyeliner without the use of a mirror was apparently a skill that one didn't
forget. Spike smudged on the black pencil, spiked up his hair, and ripped off
the sleeves of his t-shirt. He slid on some cheap silver rings and a thick
leather bracelet. His boots were fine, and a few tears in the jeans and a slit
in the neck of his shirt completed the look. He didn't even wince as he jammed
an untwisted paperclip through his earlobe. To the others, he would look like he
was in costume as a punk rocker; to him, he was simply wearing comfortable old
armor.
He swaggered with remembered confidence when he left his office,
and he laughed at the looks of shock on his staff's faces as he swung through
the kitchen before wandering out into the dining room.
The party had just
started, and people were standing around talking as hors d'oeuvres were passed.
Spike stood at the edge of the room and glanced over the milling crowd. Most of
the guests were in costume, some of them as simple as sheets wrapped around them
like togas, the hotel stamps visible on the hems.
"I didn't know you had
it in you, boss," Anne said, coming up to him. She had tied a brimmed hat over
her glossy wig, and he was reminded of young ladies of his youth. Of course,
they would never have dreamed of wearing red lipstick and staring at a man with
such a saucy grin.
"You'd be surprised what I've had in me," he said. "So
where are the muckety-mucks? Let's get this over with."
Anne led him over
to a cluster of men and women in elaborate costumes and introduced him to Julius
Caesar and his wife Cleopatra, Shakespeare, Dolly Parton, an astronaut, and
General Patton. Spike made himself as charming as he could, thanking them for
choosing his restaurant and ignoring the appreciative glances of both Cleopatra
and General Patton. He smiled at Cassie when she joined them but focused his
attention on the higher-ups, knowing that they enjoyed being fussed over. He
hated this part of the job, but he knew how to do it.
Then he saw Cassie
smile and wave, and he glanced over toward the door to see Xander coming in. He
was wearing a leather bomber jacket and had a white scarf around his neck, but
what was so striking for Spike was the pair of sunglasses Xander was wearing.
They were mirrored and wrapped around his face, and he wasn't wearing an eye
patch under them.
Spike was overcome by a sudden memory of Xander coming
home with Dawn one afternoon that summer Buffy was gone. Spike had stayed at the
house during the day for some reason, probably because Willow and Tara were
concerned about his well-being and had nagged him to get him out of his crypt,
and he had been in the living room when Xander and Dawn had returned from
wherever they had been. Both had been laughing, and Xander was showing off his
new sunglasses while Dawn offered everyone cherry lollipops from a slippery
cellophane bag. At the time, Spike had been focused on Dawn, but now all he
could think about was Xander's smile and the way that his eyes had sparkled when
Willow had taken the glasses and tried them on herself.
So much had
happened since then, so much had been lost, and Spike felt his stomach roil with
the unwelcome memories. The sight of Xander, seemingly whole and laughing with
someone across the room, made images of the past that he had buried so firmly
flash across his eyes.
"Would you excuse me?" he asked and didn't wait
for an answer.
Spike didn't venture out into the crowd again. There was a
lot to do in the kitchen, and he kept himself busy arranging food on trays with
shaking hands.
*
The party was swinging, and Xander breathed a
sigh of relief. Mr. Wallace ("No need to stand on ceremony, Harris. Just call me
Caesar.") had told him how delighted he was with everything, and the food seemed
to be going over well. Everyone was eating, anyway, and it looked like dinner
was about to be served.
He pulled Cassie aside when she walked
by.
"How's everything going?" he asked quietly.
"People seem
happy," she said. "No complaints so far, and the special meals are going to the
right people."
"I couldn't have done it without you, Cassie. If I had
been in charge we would have ended up with hamburgers and ice cream sundaes at
my apartment."
"And no costumes." She grinned at him. "You can't tell me
you aren't thrilled to see Rodney dressed up as Cher."
"He weighs three
hundred pounds. He could have been Cher and Sonny."
"But you have
to admit that he looks great in the wig."
"I'm just glad he didn't go for
her outfit from 'If I Could Turn Back Time.'" He shuddered.
"That's a
scary thought."
"But you look great," Xander said. "What are you? A
medieval princess?"
She smoothed her heavy velvet gown and
smiled.
"I was going for Tudor queen. Dave's coming as Henry the
Eighth."
"Is he here yet?"
Cassie shook her head.
"Not yet.
He should get here in forty-five minutes or so. I hope he doesn't miss
dinner."
Xander glanced over to where a gypsy and a devil were setting up
one of the buffet tables.
"They'll keep serving, won't they?"
"I'm
more worried they'll run out of food with the rate that those appetizers are
disappearing," Cassie said.
"You really did a great job," Xander said,
and she smiled.
"Thank you."
He squinted to look across the
room.
"If we're going to be eating soon, I really should take these off,"
he said, fidgeting with his sunglasses. "I'd like to be able to see the food on
my plate."
"You should go do that. It looks like they're getting ready to
serve, so now's a good time to slip away."
"Okay. Be right
back."
Xander wandered to the back of the restaurant and ducked into the
men's room. Two medieval knights and a very convincing Mick Jagger were inside,
and Xander backed out. He really didn't want to be fussing with his patch in
front of people, and the thought of doing it in one of the stalls squicked him,
as clean as he was sure they were.
He was in luck; Anne was headed past
him toward the kitchen, and he caught her attention.
"Is everything
okay?" she asked, looking up from the clipboard on which she had been making
notes.
"Yeah. The bosses are thrilled. Everything's great. I was just
wondering if there's someplace quiet I could use for about two minutes. I want
to get rid of these glasses."
"Sure. No problem." She led him down the
hall and opened the door to Spike's office.
"I wouldn't want to
bother..."
"Johnny Rotten is in the kitchen. Won't even know you're
here," Anne said.
"Oh. Great. Thanks." He stepped inside and pulled his
eye patch out of his pocket as she pulled the door closed.
He slipped off
his glasses and set them on Spike's desk before untangling the knot the cord of
the patch always got into if it was left alone for more than thirty
seconds.
"Xander's inside," he heard Anne say in the hallway. "He needed
someplace out of the way for a minute. Hope you don't
mind."
Fuck!
He heard the door creak open and turned his
back to it.
"Sorry," he said, his hands fumbling to pull on his eye
patch. He snatched his discarded sunglasses from Spike's desk and stuffed them
in his pocket. "I didn't want to freak anyone out in the bathroom, and Anne said
I could use your office."
"No problem," Spike said, sauntering into the
room and over to his desk.
Xander tried not to stare. He had seen Spike
briefly across the room earlier, but the costume was even more striking up
close. His eyes looked huge and very blue with the dark liner around them, and
his posture was confident and undeniably sexy. And those arms, bare to the
shoulders and flexing as he fiddled with a pile of papers... Xander blinked and
looked at the rug.
"It's just that it's hard for people to talk with me
with the sunglasses," he said quickly, "so I wanted to take them off."
"I
said no problem." Spike leaned against his desk and raised an eyebrow. "Decided
not to go with the pirate look?"
"Too cliché. Besides, I did it a while
back, and I don't like to repeat. If I'd known about this," he gestured to his
face, "I might've saved it."
"What are you, then? A pilot?"
"Yeah.
Not the best costume, I know, but I wanted a bomber jacket. Seemed like a good
excuse to buy one," he said sheepishly. "So who are you? Billy
Idol?"
Spike rolled his eyes.
"He stole the look from
me."
"Yeah, you've mentioned that once or twice. Still not sure I buy
it," Xander said. He began to grin and then remembered where he was. "Anyway,
thanks for the use of your office."
"No problem," Spike said. Xander
turned to go. "Wait."
"What?" Xander watched warily as Spike approached
him.
Spike stopped right in front of him, his eyes even more blue with
such close proximity. Xander managed to keep still as Spike reached up and
carefully untwisted the band of the eye patch. He smoothed Xander's hair over it
with the briefest of touches and then stepped back.
"There," Spike said.
His eyes flickered over Xander's face as if he was checking every detail.
"Wouldn't want you to look any more stupid than usual. You've got to impress the
bosses."
Xander got his mind moving again, though it seemed to want to be
stuck on Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike, Spike.
"Yeah," Xander
said, his voice slightly rough. "Look, I wanted to say -"
"There's
nothing to say."
"No. There is." Spike leaned his hip against his desk
and watched him expressionlessly. Xander continued, "I just wanted to say that
I'm not going to freak out at you. I know you think I will, but I won't. I heard
what you said beforehand, and I understood. So don't think that I'm going to
cause a scene or something."
Spike was still for a moment and then began
to tug what looked an awful lot like a real paperclip out of his
earlobe.
"Good," he said, tossing the twist of metal onto his
desk.
"Ow. Doesn't that hurt?"
Spike shrugged.
"It'll be
healed in a couple of minutes."
"Still seems like a lot of pain just for
a Hallowe'en costume."
"You forget I have vampire tastes as well as
vampire healing," Spike said, smirking. "A little pain can be nice."
"So
- what? You like to slam your fingers in doors for fun?"
"No, although as
I recall you can break someone's knee in a door if you get the angle just
right."
I asked for that, didn't I? Ugh.
"God, Spike. I'm
glad I don't have all of your memories," Xander said.
"Yeah. You really
should be," Spike said quietly, watching his fingers as he played with the bit
of wire.
Xander studied him for a moment. Spike sounded weary, and Xander
looked beyond the makeup and hair gel to the man - vampire, whatever - beneath.
He seemed tired, worn, maybe even a bit frayed beneath the layers of attitude he
wore like armor.
For the first time since he had seen Spike this fall,
perhaps for the first time ever, Xander felt like he was intruding. He suddenly
realized that Spike wasn't a prize to be shown off or an acquaintance to be
enjoyed; he was a very real person who had his own life to lead. Maybe because
of the soul or maybe because of something else, it didn't seem to be quite as
trouble-free as Spike liked to pretend. Xander didn't seem to be making it any
easier.
"I should get back to the party," Xander
said.
"Right."
"It's going great," Xander
said.
"Good."
"You've made a nice place for yourself
here."
Spike shrugged and continued to watch himself fiddle with the
wire.
"I've had worse," he said.
"Yes, you really
have."
Spike looked up and searched Xander's face for a
moment.
"You, too," he said.
"Yeah."
Unable to think of
anything else to say to this enigma before him, Xander nodded and
left.
The rest of the night went quickly. Xander ate dinner with his
foreman and some of their crew, he danced with Cassie, Mrs. Wallace, and a bunch
of his co-workers, and he managed to keep George the accountant from throwing up
all four piña coladas until he reached the bathroom. All in all, it was a huge
success, and his bosses seemed to be as pleased with the event as they were with
the work he was doing on the building. He only hoped they didn't decide to
promote him to official party planner or something... or, worse, promote Cassie
and leave him to find another assistant.
Xander didn't see Spike again
until the party was winding down, and he didn't argue this time when the
vampire, stripped of his makeup and jewelry but back in his beat-up duster, fell
into step beside him on his way home.PART
10
