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Dancing About Architecture	By : mcee Category: > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 4638 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer (BtVS), nor any of the characters from it. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 1-Dancing About Architecture
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I was suddenly oddly observant for the nervous wreck that I was. I stepped foot into the quiet apartment, practically holding my breath, and Spike closed the door behind me, making my heart jump up in my throat. Maybe coffee had been a bad idea.

I turned to him, wondering what the hell was next. He kept his eyes averted from me, putting his keys down on a narrow table next to the door, and his bag and jacket on a nearby chair. Then he ran a nervous hand through his hair, leaving it slightly disheveled, and peered up at me hesitantly, resting both hands on his hips. And it looked like the most natural thing, him standing there, more beautiful than I ever thought he would be, among everyday things, his things. A home, not a lair. Comfort. Practicality. Just like a regular guy. I knew whatever had happened would never, ever make William the Bloody a 'regular guy', but this was as close as I could imagine him getting to that concept.

He bit the inside of his bottom lip, staring at me thoughtfully, then moved toward the living room area, gesturing at me. "We need to talk."

I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding. That. Right there. He'd said it just like Spike. Thick accent, Cockney drawl... slightly more polished, but I was willing to ignore that for the sake of my own peace of mind. He moved differently too, less of a swagger, a lot less of the cockiness he'd always had in his step, but still as much grace to his movements, still moving with cat-like elegance. I guess one never loses that.

I stayed where I was with my back to the door, and he turned to face me again, this time with the couch between us. Behind him, across the living room, were wide windows that took up the entire width of the room, uncurtained. It was still very bright outside, and no light needed to be turned on for the room to be lit cozily. It reminded me of what I liked, how my own home was, walls covered with overflowing bookshelves, furniture chosen for comfort instead of style, while the whole thing just meshed into a wonderful sense of warmth that even my own house couldn't hold a candle to. I was in awe. And he stood in the middle of it, part of it all.

He tugged at his right sleeve, rolling it again to his elbow, then brought the back of his hand up to push his glasses up his nose in an absent gesture. "I wrote you." His tone was unreadable.

I nodded. I had to speak up for this to be an actual conversation. Right. "Yeah..." Oratory had never been my strong point. In fact I seemed to lose my basic grasp on the English language in situations like this. And I hadn't been in a situation like this since... Hell, since I'd left Sunnydale.

He looked at me a moment more, then held out his hand toward the couch in front of him. "Sit?" he asked, and it sounded like both an offer and a plea.

I nodded again and circled the couch, while he escaped on the other side to the kitchen, once again disappearing from sight. His disembodied voice came to me muffled: "Want anything to drink?"

"Um, sure," I said lightly, sitting down on the couch. This could go as smoothly as I wanted it to. Maybe.

"Heineken good?"

Not really. "Yeah. Thanks." My voice suddenly sounded okay, like I met up with long-lost vampires every other day.

He came back with our drinks, handing me one of the cold bottles. Then he sat next to me, elbow up on the back of the couch, facing me. He smiled. That same smile he'd had in the hallway.

"It's good to see you, Xander."

I realized what was different with his voice. He just... spoke. Didn't declare, or mock, or sneer - just spoke. It made his whole voice softer, his tone lighter. Just a little. Just enough.

And then it became the easiest thing I'd even done.

"What happened, Spike?"

He nodded, took a quiet swig from his green bottle, and licked at his lips. "I became human again."

He reached out and took the bottle from my own hands as I suddenly lost all feeling in my fingers.

"What?"

"I became human again," he repeated in the same tone. He didn't sound like he'd ever said it.

I nodded, unsure.

"Think you can handle holding this again?" he teased with a soft smirk and a tilt of my bottle in his hand.

Shakily, I got on my feet and pulled him with me, towards the wide expanse of clear windows on the opposite side of the room. I stopped and turne him him, and my hand fell from his sleeve expectantly. With both bottles still in his hands, he stepped forward and into the bright light, and said nothing. And for the first time ever it hit me just how *blue* his eyes are. Alive.

My stunned gaze traveled down his chiseled features, down the defined cheekbone, along the sharp line of his jaw. How the skin glowed healthily there, looking as warm as it probably felt under the sunlight. Under the touch.

The supple material of his shirt, of a pleasant off-white, fell softly around his delicate neck, and I noticed the almost imperceptible throb of his jugular under his jaw. He swallowed absently, and his adam's apple bobbed once. I let out a shaky breath, and peered up at him. He was watching me watching him, squinting slightly at the midday sun.

My hand stretched achingly at my side, and finally I reached out and laid it flat on his chest, right over his heart. He didn't react, just smiled a little, holding the bottles out of my way. And there it was. Thump. Thump. Thump. And the quiet heaving of his chest, right there under my fingers. I felt something in my mind pop softly, like warm water leaking out of your ear hours after you get out of the pool. A lopsided smile tugged at my lips.

* * *

He took me back to the couch, and told me everything. How the demon he'd been fighting had been far more relentless than originally anticipated, and how it had gotten the better of him in the end. How it had felt to finally know he was going to die, without any heroic fight, without any apocalypse; just because this time, he hadn't been able to fight back. How he had closed his eyes and waited for the final blow. How he'd woken up the next day in the parking lot behind the local bank, in mid-afternoon, with a heartbeat. How he'd crawled back to his crypt and had hidden there for two days, shaking. What it had been like to crave food again for the first time in over a century. How he had done the only thing that had come to mind: go to LA.

"Angel?" I asked, sipping my drink.

He chuckled. "Angel. I ran back to my sire with my tail between my legs, and that little team of his helped me figure things out and get back on my feet, so to speak. Angel was stunned speechless. He didn't know what to do with William."

"They knew about this all along?"

"And kept quiet, like I asked them to. It's been eight years, Xander, and I'm still just getting a hold of it."

"What did... how did the demon..."

He looked out the window at the city twelve stories down. "As far as Wesley could tell, it was someone's brilliant idea of vengeance. Thought perhaps turning Spike the Pariah back to his shameful human self would be proper punishment for all the torment I'd caused. Couldn't figure out how they did it though, and I couldn't help thinking of Angel. He had to wait for his redemption, while I got a free ride..." He trailed off, lost in thoughts.

"You... you didn't mind? Being human again?"

He looked over at me, and something shone in his eyes. I'd touched a chord. He sat up with sudden energy, shifting slightly closer to me. "I was *alive* again. I was me. William. The soul was back, and it felt like it had never left. But my years as Spike gave me what I'd lacked as a boy - confidence, pride, self-worth. It was exhilarating!" He let out a happy laugh, and I smiled, his joy contagious. "I don't know who to thank for this, but they have no idea..." He became more serious again, his smile lingering on his lips, his voice softening. "They have no idea what they were giving me. I was me again. I'd never felt anything so good."

And I had never heard him speak so passionately about anything.
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Dancing About Architecture