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Sequel to Rosebud Murders
Paring: What else? S/X of course. |
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Period Of Adjustment
by
BmblBee
Part One
Spike leaned his head against the bathroom wall and sighed. He did not want to have this conversation but knew it was time.
It was past time. Loooong past time.
He could hear Xander in the bedroom struggling with the stuck dresser drawer and decided to just get it out. Open this can of worms and let the begging and pleading begin. "This just isn't working, Xander. I've tried. I really have, but you have to admit that there is just no way this is going to last. We have to be realistic. We just can't go on like this."
Xander froze. He had just extricated a pair of jeans from the three inches he had been able to pry the top drawer open and was feeling fairly jubilant. It was a feeling that just flushed down the toilet, and Spike had his fingers on the handle.
He knew this was coming. He had seen it in Spike's face each morning when he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower. It had been one thing when Spike was just out of the hospital and spending his time alternating between the sofa and the bed, being waited on hand and foot by Xander, but now that he was up and mobile and back to work, it was all just too inconvenient.
Xander laid his hard won pants on the bottom of the bed and eased over to the bathroom doorway. "Please, Spike, I know we can work this out. I'll do better about staying out of your way. I love you. Please can't we work this out?"
Spike wiped the last of the shaving cream off his cheeks and dried his arms and chest before turning to face the pitiful man behind him. This time he meant business. This time Spike would not be swayed. "No, Xander. No. I love you too, Pet, but this apartment is just too small. We trip over each other constantly which, usually I don't mind, but there aren't enough closets, the shower is too small for one person let alone two, and the kitchen, although I love your work there, just doesn't cut it. We need
a bigger place"
Spike reached out and placed his cool hands on the sides of Xander face kissing his closed, pouty lips. Much as he wanted to, Xander couldn't stay mad. He immediately wrapped his arms around Spike's waist and slammed their bodies tightly together.
Tipping his head to the side, Xander opened his mouth. The moment Spike's tongue slid slickly in, the warm air rushed from Xander's nose and a groan came from low in his throat. Both men felt the now familiar rush of heat as their bodies recognized the action and reaction from it's mate. Their cocks hardened quickly and sought the feel of bump and slide. Someone moaned.
Spike tugged loose the towel he had tied around his waist and step by step backed Xander toward the bed. Xander's legs joined in the bedroom line dance whose steps were easily learned. Two steps back, slide, slide. Two steps to the left, twist, turn and tumble. Dancing With The Stars had nothing on him.
Xander broke the kiss and grinned like a loon. He quickly scrambled out of the flannel Sponge Bob sleeper pants he wore and his hard cock bounced as the elastic caught against the north pointed head.
Spike's eyes sparkled with mischief and he scowled angrily. "Look at you. Pretending to be all innocent. Well I know you're NOT!"
Xander blinked through the horny haze he had been swimming in, not sure where this was going but willing to float along. "I'm not?" He squeaked.
Spike leaped off the bed, his rigid cock smacking wetly against his stomach as he stood, arms crossed over his chest. "No, you're not. Get on the wall! Assume the position! You're under arrest!"
Xander's eyes got huge. Nothing turned him on like police talk and nobody could talk that shit like Spike. He scrambled to comply. Slapping his palms against the wall, he stood with his feet defiantly together, knowing what would happen next.
"Spread 'em, Boy. Get those legs apart. You hiding something in there?" Spike shoved his foot between Xander's and began kicking back and forth as Xander squiggled his feet apart. Finally, at an uncomfortable, off balance angle, Spike put his hand on the center of Xander's back and pushed him roughly to bend over just a bit more.
At this position, Xander was forced to keep his hands on the wall to prevent his tipping over. His cock bubbled pathetically begging for some touch, some friction.
Spike began the search.
Standing behind him, Spike pressed his body to Xander's back clamping his bony fingers around Xander's wrists. Firmly he ran his hands up the boy's arms enjoying the feel of his skin as it blossomed into goose bumps and the thick hair rose in the wake of Spike's hands. The muscles in Xander's forearms instantly went rock hard under Spike's touch.
Sliding his palms around to Xander's chest he briefly pinched and twisted the hard pebbled nipples. Xander's hips jerked back and he moaned as he felt Spike's cock wet his butt cheek. Spike smacked the damp spot sharply, smiling at his lover's reactions.
"Hold still, Boy!"
Xander whimpered. Spike resumed his pat down by running his hands all over the tan, firm, muscular back. Starting where the thick dark hair hung to the base of his neck all the way down to where his waist curved in before rolling up into the amazing, full cheeks of his perfect ass.
This time the breathless whine that escaped left Spike's lips. Finally his fingers reached the firm round globes where they paused, involuntarily squeezing and groping.
Immediately Xander's feet wiggled further apart and his hips canted, hoping Spike's time restraint would prevent further postponement. Spike smiled. His thumb slid down between Xander's cheeks like a credit card making a big ticket purchase, and brushed lightly over the puckered prize.
"Yeah, yeah, right there. Come on. Baby. Right there." As soon as he had said it, Xander realized his mistake.
SMACK! Spike's hand left a clear four fingered print against the smooth slightly hairy ass. "You have the right to remain silent. I suggest you do that until your attorney tells you otherwise."
Xander's cock slobbered and hardened even more. "Yes, Sir, Mr. Cop, Officer, Detective Spike, Sir."
Dropping to a crouch behind him, Spike slowly he ran his hands up Xander's left calf to his thigh. He could feel the leg muscles flex and tense as Spike scraped his thumbnail across the backside of Xander's knee.
Xander moaned, knowing begging wouldn't help. Not yet anyway. Spike let his fingertips brush over the back of Xander's balls before removing his hands and repeating the action on the other leg.
Xander was whimpering almost nonstop. His overheated body craved the cool touch of Spike's fingers and his dick cried for either of their hands. Spike, too had reached the limit of his patience. Standing back up he gripped Xander's hips to stop the constant rocking and humping. "So, you have the evidence hidden, do you? Well you won't conceal it from me. You were just unlucky enough to commit your crime in my jurisdiction. I have a probe that can find anything you have hidden on your person."
Xander grinned and got a bit more comfortable. He knew just what to say to move this interrogation along. His voice became bratty, defiant. "Do you have a search warrant?"
Spike grabbed the oil from the night stand and growled. "I've got your warrant right here, Boy."
Quickly slicking himself up, Spike felt around, satisfied that Xander's hole was still relaxed from the night before and he pressed forward. With only a little resistance the head popped through. Spike wrapped his arms around Xander's body and held him tight, Spike's sweaty forehead laid between Xander's shoulder blades.
Xander felt Spike's hot breath rush out against his skin and he shivered. "Move with me Spike. Jesus, that's good."
Spike straightened up, his right hand slid down from Xander's firm stomach to his firmer cock. His fingers wrapped around the shaft and held it tightly. Slowly Spike pulled back, looking down and watching as his own cock shaft glistened wetly. Quickly he pushed back in, his hand slipping forward, stroking the hot, fat fleshy cock. The second Spike's cock head bumped Xander's prostate, he jerked. "Fuck! Right there!"
Humping back and forth, Xander did most of the work while Spike's cock rode along happily taking the back seat, feet up on the tandem ride. When the tingle started in Spike's legs and crotch he knew the trip had almost reached the station. He could also tell by the rigid, wet cock in his hand that he and Xander would be arriving together. Spike took the lead and pounded fast and deep.
"Harder, Fuck, Spike, Harder. Oh God! Oh G........FUCK!" Xander's inner muscles clamped painfully around a cock that had already started pumping warm cum into his lover's body, causing another round of spasms to squeeze out just a little more.
"Oh, damn, damn, damn. Fuck, Xan."
Neither man moved till the waves of pleasure had ebbed and their muscles returned to function. Slowly Spike eased his cock out of the leaking, tight entrance. At the last second, Xander snickered, squeezed and flexed his inner wall muscles, pinching the head as it pulled out.
Spike flinched. "Ouch, ouch, ouch. Smart ass. Now I gotta clean up again and still try to get to work on time. And you, you brat, are going to start hunting for a new apartment. Today!" Spike waggled his finger in Xander's frowning face before heading
back to the small cramped bathroom.
Part Two
Xander scowled as he picked up the three wet, smelly towels off the bathroom floor where Spike had dropped them. He was certain he had mentioned to his messy lover that he only owned five towels, but it obviously wasn't registering in that sexy blond head.
Xander realized the truth to the statement that you never really know a person till you live with them. Well, now, after living together for less than two months, Xander knew one thing for certain. Spike was a slob.
Weaving his way back through the bedroom into the tiny living room/kitchen, Xander picked up the trail of dirty socks, cold coffee mugs and empty chip bags. The hand carved lion's head bar top was cluttered with tins of gun cleaning wadding, oil rags and the latest copy of Smith & Wesson Monthly.
Xander sighed and sat at the bar, shoving everything to the side to make way for a cup of coffee and a large bowl of oatmeal.
'Maybe Spike was right' he thought. 'Maybe a bigger place would help.' He wondered what the chances were of Patrick letting him out early this afternoon to go looking for a new apartment.
Xander knew living with someone required compromise he just didn't know how much compromise. Apparently true love didn't solve all and he and Spike must not be the fairies in the happily ever after tales. Lately they had been arguing. A lot. And Xander hated the negative energy it caused. Stacking all the dirty dishes in the small sink, Xander sniffed in disgust and headed for the shower.
Spike zipped into his parking space and shut down the Corvette. Instead of heading up to his office he sat there, just for a minute, just for the blessed silence.
He had only been back to work one week since the arrest of the Rosebud Murderer and the injury he sustained. Sadly, his return wasn't all sugar plums and open arms that he led Xander to believe. While some accepted him and a few others simply didn't care, there was still a lot of suspicion and open hostility from the other officers. Despite his facade of not giving a shit, it was proving to be very stressful and shamefully, Spike was taking the stress out on Xander.
Now to cap everything off he had been ordered to meet with the department psychologist and this morning was his first appointment. Just what he fucking needed. "Well," he snorted, "At least the tension of everything at work kinda blocks out the stress of Mother Hen Xander at home."
He loved Xander, he really did, but happily ever after was only in children's stories. Reality was tripping over each other in the bathroom in the morning, listening to a daily towel count, and watching the love of his life inhale half a fucking chicken without seeming to need to breath. "fucker must be a vampire," he mumbled.
Almost made him long for the uncomplicated days of fuck and flee with Angel. Spike shook his head. No, he wouldn't do it. He
wouldn't cheat on Xander. Not even for the relief of commitment free release. Besides, Spike thought, Angel probably wouldn't be interested not while he was so in luuuurve with Max.
Gripping the steering wheel tightly in his fingers, Spike leaned forward and allowing the frustrations of his life to take over, smacked his forehead against the leather covered wheel, chanting a mantra on each whack. "Damn. Damn. Damn."
Finally, deciding that it would not be good to face the shrink with a red crease across his face Spike slumped back in his seat and sighed. He checked his watch and knowing the garage was covered by security cameras decided he better move. Grabbing his briefcase and slamming the car door, he headed inside.
"You're late. You're way behind on your work and Mr. Hamilton is screaming for his gun cabinet."
Xander cringed. It had taken him longer than he thought to clean up the mess in the tiny apartment and by the time he dressed and slipped downstairs to his cubicle in the wood shop a good two hours had passed.
Between all the time he had taken off to nurse Spike back to health and then the vacation time Patrick had reluctantly given him, Xander knew he had been woefully negligent on his wood working projects. It was just one more aggravation in his already tense life.
"I know. I'm sorry Patrick. I just can't seem to get back in the swing of things, but I promise I'll do better. I can stay late today and get the cabinet finished and come in early tomorrow to start on the china cupboard for Mrs. Winters."
The old man's annoyance melted at the sound of defeat in the boy's voice. Xander was like a son to him and he worried about him. Patrick knew Xander was special, he had seen what he could do and while Xander viewed his gift as a blessing, Patrick sometimes thought it more of a curse. Having him live in the upstairs apartment fed Patrick's need to protect the boy. Keep an eye on him. Keep him safe.
He was also not very happy with Xander's choice of partner. It didn't bother him in the least that this Spike character was a man, but it bothered him immensely that he was a cop.
He had known enough cops in his lifetime to know they lived a dangerous, usually self destructive life style and from what he'd seen so far, Spike did not look like the exception to the rule. Patrick eased in and after wiping the sawdust off the little red stool,
sat down in the corner of Xander's cubicle. "Forget about all that for a minute, Xander. You talk to me first, yes? What is happening up there? You two fighting? Is he treating you o.k? You need Patrick to go up there and toss him out on his fat policeman's ass?"
Xander chuckled and wiped the walnut stain off his hands. He turned to face the caring old man and rested his elbows on his knees. "No. We aren't fighting, exactly. He's a good man, Patrick, and I do love him, it's just that it's harder to live with someone than I thought. He says the apartment is too small for two people and he wants to move."
Patrick shook his head. Even though he dreaded it, he knew this day would come. He knew it was probably past time for the bird to leave the nest. He just wished it wasn't to fly off with a vulture like Spike.
"What do you want, Xander? You know you are welcome to stay here as long as you want. Where you gonna go? You not quitting on me are you? You the best wood carver I got. Besides, you like my own boy." Patrick reached over and ruffled the thick hair on the top of Xander's head affectionately causing it to flop down over his eyes wildly. Then, just as he was about to make another subtly insulting comment about the police detective, Patrick's eyes lit up. "Hey, I gotta idea that just might solve your problem. Grab your jacket and come with me."
Xander watched, he was always amazed at how quickly those stubby little arthritic legs could move when they wanted to. Leaping to his feet, Xander snatched his wind breaker off the coat hook by the door and hustled after him.
~*~*~*~*~
Spike straightened his back and wiped all expression off his face as he entered the back door of the station house. He had been told to report directly to the fourth floor and the office of the department psychologist.
Dispatch officer Tim Taylor saw him coming and sneered in disgust. "Ah Ah Ah fagchoo!" He then sniffed and snuffed as if recovering from the huge sneeze.
Despite his earlier resolve, Spike stopped and purposefully turned to face him. "You got something you want to say?"
Taylor just chuckled. "Nope. Guess I'm just allergic. Must be something nasty floating around here."
The acid bubbled around in the pit of Spike's stomach and he wanted nothing more than to slap that snotty smile off Taylor's face but knew it would only make things worse. No, right now he had bigger problems.
It pissed him off to no end that Faith had already been cleared by IDC and the psychologist and was back on duty, while Spike, just because he had been stabbed, had to go through an undetermined number of counseling sessions before he could return to regular duty.
Shifting his briefcase to his other hand, Spike flexed his shoulders and turned to walk away, tossing back one last reply. "Better take care of that cold. You never know when something as simple as a bug can grab hold of you and end up killing your arse."
Part Three
Spike felt like a fifth grader sent to the principals office for being naughty in recess. He had been shown to a small metal chair that sat in the hallway outside the psychologists office and was told the good doctor would be with him shortly.
Spike wasn't stupid, He knew this was a psychological tactic designed to put him off guard and put the shrink in a position of power over him. Wait and worry. Fret and fume. Spike felt his paranoia and temper grow by the minute. He counted the green tile on the institutional floor and he picked at a loose corner on the padded arm of his chair.
He stared at the ceiling neon light panels and wondered who he should call to report that one of the bulbs was burned out.
Finally, just as he had had enough and decided to toss a general "fuck you" in the direction of the good docto'rs door, he heard a voice in a thick German accent, boom. "Detective Pratt! Villiam Pratt. Comen see here."
Despite himself, Spike scrambled to comply. He leaped to his feet and hustled into the psych's inner office. At the last second he caught himself and immediately regained his composure. He was a grown man. He would not be intimidated. Taking his time to close the door behind him, he casually approached the short squat, grey haired man behind the desk, extending his hand.
"Yes, I'm Detective Pratt. I'm here for a 9 am appointment. You are...?"
The fat doctor's thick fuzzy eyebrows raised slightly then quickly dropped back down. "I am Doctor Heinrich H. Hiney. You shall address me as Doctor Hiney. You shall sit. Ve shall begin."
The doctor pointed to the chair by his desk and Spike, fighting the urge to snap his heels together, throw his hand in the air and shout "Heil Hiney!" did as he was told. He had already made up his mind to simply agree with whatever the doctor said. He wasn't about to add any logs to the fire.
He would nod and smile. Then when the psych Gestapo had deemed him cured or fit or whatever the fuck they wanted, he could go back to work and get on with his life. Spike knew he had been tense and irritable and he knew he was probably taking it out on Xander. He vowed to do better. He wondered if maybe they had moved in too quickly together. Maybe they should have just dated for a while first. Maybe he shouldn't have let the lease on his old apartment..........
WHACK!
Spike jumped a foot out of his chair. He hadn't realized he had allowed his mind to wander till Doctor Hiney had slapped his hand down on the desk directly in front of Spike's face. "You Vill pay attention! You vill not play zee games wit me. Do you understand?"
Spike straightened up quickly. His plan to cooperate cheerfully was not off to a good start.
~*~*~*~*~
"Where are we going?" Xander sat on the passenger's side of the worn bench seat as the old Ford pickup bounced along. Xander grabbed for the dashboard and wondered if Patrick had ever heard of shock absorbers.
They had been driving about fifteen minutes since leaving the Divine Creation Wood shop and none of Patrick's enthusiasm had wavered a bit. His fat red cheeks glowed and giggled as the truck took each pot hole at full force.
Patrick just shook his finger an inch under Xander nose and laughed. "Wouldn't you like to know. You just wait and see. Old Patrick is gonna solve all you problems."
Xander just sat back and smiled. Wherever they were going, by the looks of Patrick's fuel gauge, they weren't going far. Sure enough, within another five minutes, they slowed,turning down a narrow street.
Xander looked around knew they were on the outskirts of town. An older section that, one hundred years ago, was the rich area. Hobs nob, snobs hill. The upper crust. Now it was full of rundown mansions. Some had been fully restored to their previous magnificence, some were on the verge of being torn down by the city.
It was an eclectic mix that Xander found intriguing and very appealing. Watching, fascinated, out his window, Xander could see the effort some of the residents had put into their restorations. Not only were the houses returned to their turn of the century opulence, but the gardens, the landscaping, it was all just incredible.
Reaching the end of the street, Patrick slowed even more and turning, pulled the old pick up truck into the driveway of one of the more neglected, overgrown, homes. The driveway led along the side of the house to a building in the rear. It looked somewhat like a garage, but not. Xander frowned, a word trying to find it's way to his tongue, struggled. Suddenly, there it was.
"A carriage house. It's a carriage house. Oh my God! Look at it."
The minute the car stopped, Xander jumped out and hurried over. He walked over to the front of the small houselike building and, closing his eyes, could just feel the spirits of the people who had happily driven their horses and carriages up this path. He could hear, in his mind, the sound of the horses hooves as they clip clopped up the old stone road. His psychic ability hummed.
The emotions he was receiving were almost overwhelming. They whispered in his ears, indistinguishable words and songs. They coaxed and welcomed him. His head snapped around as they called him to the house.
Patrick stood back and watched as the expressions filled and formed across Xander's face. He knew he had been right to bring him here. Rummaging through the glove box, he pulled out an older set of keys and climbed from the cab of the truck.
"Whose place is this? Can we go in?" Xander was already rushing toward the front porch. He agilely leaped over the second step avoiding the broken, rotted wood, although he could not have known it was so. Patrick, too, stepped over it and joined the boy on the porch, smiling as he watched Xander bounce on the balls of his feet, waiting impatiently for the rusty deadbolt to turn and release.
Standing back, Patrick waved his hand and Xander rushed in. The air in the room was stuffy, slightly smelly from being closed up, unlived in. It was the smell of fabric, carpet and furniture, covered with dust and time. Just inside the door was an entry way, an old fashioned foyer. Directly ahead, a huge, sweeping staircase. Off to the right a sitting room, to the left, a formal dining room. Xander stood, unmoving, his head tipped back, eyes closed and a smile gracing his lips.
Patrick waited. He wondered what impressions the boy was receiving. He wondered how many of his own memories Xander was seeing.
Xander was overwhelmed. The feeling of home, love, acceptance, and destiny wrapped around him like a mother's embrace. The images that flitted behind his eyes like picture postcards were one of happy times, holidays, honesty, and the emotions pure.
Finally he turned, his smile beaming. "This was your home. Your family for generations back filled this home with love and happiness. It's all still here. It's all still a part of you. Oh Patrick, it's amazing. Why don't you live here?"
Patrick just shrugged. He busied himself by pulling the dusty sheet off a small round enty table and shaking it into a cloud of dust mites that sparkled in the sunlight. "I don't know. I'm the last of the family and the house just needs so much work. My Sarah and I never could have children of our own and the house was just too much for her to take care of. Besides, I guess part of it is guilt. I wasn't here when my Mother passed and I always felt so guilty. I let her down when she needed me most. Coming here was just too painful. So, anyway, I stop by once a month or so to make sure everything is all right. I should put it on the market, but, well, you know."
Xander gazed off to the side, his pupils dilating, and he took a deep breath. "Is her name Alice?'
Patrick froze then nodded.
"Shes very proud of you, Patrick. She loves you very much and wants you to know you did nothing to be ashamed of. She is with you every day and still holds your hand each night when you say your prayers."
Patrick burst into tears. Xander wrapped his arms around the man and held him close as the spirits in the house sighed.
Part Four
Spike sat uncomfortably in the hard, straight back chair and tried his best not to squirm. The fat, short, German doctor had not
said a word in the last two minutes as he paced back and forth, his hands clasped behind his back and his eyes firmly locked on
Spike.
The office was gloomy, filled with everything dark, leather and wood. The small windows had both shades and curtains as though any ray of hope and sunshine was banned as inappropriate.
Finally, just as Spike was about to get up and storm out, maybe, the doctor stopped and spoke.
"Vee are going to delve deeply into your psych Mr. Pratt. Discover what makes you tick. Explain what it vas about dat last
case dat turned you into da homosexual. Vas it da plunge of da long smooth knife into your body? Vas it da rolling about da floor vis da oter man? How do you feel about your Father, Detective? Did you Moter nurse you from da breast?"
Spike blinked. He looked all around the room to assure himself that he was still in the precinct and not down a rabbit hole, although to be honest, the good doctor did certainly resemble the Mad Hatter. When the realization of why he was here became clear, Spikes confusion morphed quickly into anger. Sensibly controlled anger. Anger that recognized the fact that this fat, foreign homophobe held the ticket to his return to his job.
"I can assure you, Doctor that I was very gay before the arrest and injury and that my relationship with my Father has no bearing on my job or my homosexuality."
"AHA!" Dr. Hiney's eyes lit up and Spike knew he had just played the wrong card. He would not be collecting $500. He would not be passing Go, and he definately would not be getting out of jail free. Spike rubbed his hands over his face and groaned.
"Oh hell."
~*~*~*~*~
Xander and Patrick had sat down on the bottom step, Xander's arm around the older man's shoulders. It had taken a few minutes before Patrick had been able to stop crying. Years of pent up grief and guilt had burst forth and the relief of releasing both had overwhelmed him.
Xander held him, feeling all the emotions as they flowed through their progression. It couldn't be hurried. It shouldn't be stopped. Shock, shame, disbelief, belief, finally peace and gratitude and even a little embarrassment.
All the baggage he had carried silently with him for years was suddenly gone, sent packing. He was at last, able to remember all the good times, all the love of home and family without the negative attachments that followed. For the first time in years he let go of his self imposed exile.
His mother forgave him for not being there at the end. His mother loved him, was proud of him and was still with him. More importantly, when the time came, his mother would be there, waiting with her hand outstretched, to take him home. It was a certain knowledge that gave real hope to his life and beyond.
Xander rocked the older man and shared in the warmth and love he was feeling. It was times like this that made him feel so humbled, so grateful that he had been given such a gift to share.
"Thank you, Xander. Thank you. You have given a foolish old man what he needed most." Sniff sniffle. Patrick pulled an old cloth handkerchief from his pocket and blew his nose loudly. "Hooonk."
Xander smiled and watched as Patrick pulled himself together, brushing the few remaining hairs on the top of his head back into their comb over spot. Finally, with a big sigh and using the base of the post of the huge, sweeping stairway, he pulled himself to his feet. "Come. Come, Xander. I want you to see my house. Maybe you will like it. Maybe you will live here. What do you think?"
Xander was shocked. He stood quickly and spun, looking in a full circle to try to take it all in.
"Live here? Here? Live here? Gee, Patrick, I don't know. It's....it's....so big. I don't think I could afford it. It's across town from work. It's....it's......so big."
Patrick blew his nose and wiped his eyes again. He didn't know why he hadn't thought of it before. It was so perfect. Especially if Xander's cop didn't like it. "We could make a deal, Xander. A house is like a living thing. If it sits empty too long it starts to go to seed. This house has been empty too long already. It needs someone to love it. To care for it, repair it and live in it. That would be our deal. You live here rent free and in exchange you bring life back to the rooms. Fill my house with life."
Xander wandered off to the right into the formal sitting room. He pulled one of the sheets off, snorting at the dust cloud, and revealing a regal looking, red upholstered, saddle back chair. The quality was unmistakable and he knew that it's twin sat on the other side, still concealed and both facing the large brick fireplace.
He could easily imagine himself and Spike sitting there, cozy, relaxed and warmed by the fire on cool winter evenings. Making love on the floor, naked, touching......Xander discreetly adjusted his growing interest. "The house is wonderful, Patrick, still........."
"No, no. Don't decide yet. Come with me and we will look all around. It has five bedrooms and four baths. Upstairs sitting rooms and walk in closets. Downstairs game room, library, and of course the carriage house. You said it is too far from work, but that isn't a problem. You could set up the carriage house as a wood shop and work on your projects there. The roof is good and the plumbing was updated about fifteen years ago. The house just needs some minor repairs and a lot of TLC. What do you say? Want to look around?"
Xander couldn't stop the smile from tweaking the corners of his mouth. Spike did say he wanted a larger place. What could it hurt to just look? "Well........I'm not saying yes, mind you, but I sure would like the tour."
Patrick was thrilled. He pulled Xander into a bear hug embrace and patted his back. Just as quickly he released him and rushed up the stairs, motioning for Xander to follow. "Wonderful. Wonderful. Besides just think how terrific it would be to hold your circles here. All of your friends will love it."
Xander groaned. That was another whole conversation he and Spike would have to have. The circles. His friends. "Oh, hell."
~*~*~*~*~
"Oh hell" Spike stood outside the office door of the psychologist and just shook his head. That had gone worse than he could have ever imagined even in his ugliest nightmares. It had started out badly enough when the Doctor had asked him "Vat has un Momma und Poppa done dat make you vant da penis?"
Then things had gone south when he was questioned as to whether he was really trying to arrest Elvin or just grope him on the floor. Hiney actually had the nerve to ask if he had an erection at the time of the stabbing.
Now to top things off the damn doctor was threatening to suggest he complete a series of anger management classes before he be allowed to return to full active duty. All because Spike had threatened to shove a mechanical pencil up Der Doctor's ass and explore the good doctor's reaction of "da penis."
Spike kicked the chair in the hallway waiting room and turned to walk away. Maybe with a little luck he could slip into his office unnoticed and just hide out for the rest of the afternoon. With his face down he mumbled quietly. "Please, please, no more today."
Slump shouldered, Spike got three steps toward the elevator before the intercom system blasted his name. "Detective Pratt. Detective William Pratt. Report to Chief Inspector Giles office ASAP."
"Oh hell."
Part Five
Spike sat in the side chair across from Chief Inspector Giles and eyed him suspiciously. Spike hadn't been allowed to do much
more than shuffle papers since his return to duty and he hated it.
He felt as though he was being punished for allowing Elvin's psycho ass stab him in the chest. And he wasn't the only one suffering. His guilt wrenched him everytime he saw Faith come rushing through the station house on her way in or out trying to keep up on all the cases that were stacking up.
Making matters worse for both of them was the fact that Angel had been temporarily reassigned to their division to assist her. Faith had confided in Spike one morning that having him around was bad enough but combine that with his obsessive need to call and check up on Max twenty times an hour and she just wanted to scream.
He knew Faith was also stressed out because of Kennedy. The young officer wasn't even allowed back in the station house. Being involved in an investigation that resulted in her husband being uncovered as a serial killer and her lover, one of the Detectives that arrested him, well, she was lined up with enough Hiney appointments to make Spike's skin crawl with sympathy.
He sarcastically wondered if Hiney had ask what Elvin had done to make her "vant da pussy".
"Ahem." Giles made sure he had Spike's attention before continuing. "I know this restrictive duty has been hard on you, Detective, but it is departmental regulation. Don't take it personally."
Spike stared at Giles with disdain. Even though he knew that what the Chief Inspector was saying was true, it didn't make it any easier. "Of course not, Giles. So what do you have for me? All the department staplers need refilling or maybe the toilet paper in the loo run short?"
Giles chose to ignore Spike's sullen, childish behavior. He rooted through the papers on his desk and retrieved a small manilla folder. Flipping it across the desk, it landed in front of Spike causing his eyebrows to raise.
"A case? You're giving me a case? Oh thank God. I promise you I'm fine Giles. You know all I really need is to get back to work. What is it? Ax murder? Convenience store hold up and shooting? Hell at this point I'll even take a harried housewife that shoved a pillow over her sleeping husband's face." Spike snatched up the file, cradling it like it was solid gold. He squiggled
down comfortably in his seat and settled in for a good read. Giles braced himself. It didn't take long.
"What the fuck? Is this a joke? Well fuck you, Giles. I don't need charity." Spike slammed down the file and stood with every intention of storming off. He was already planning on a door slam that would rattle the hinges and give Giles a fierce what for.
Giles sat back calmly. He slid the file over again allowing his fingertips to remain on it as long as his eyes held Spike's. Giles then responded, his voice adapting the frigid air of pure professionalism that Spike knew better than to challenge.
"I can assure you Detective Pratt that this is no joke. The case involves Mrs. Myrtle Miller. Eighty-seven years old, Mrs Miller was a resident of the Leesville Nursing and Convalescent Center. Apparently last evening when she prepared to take a bath she slipped, hit her head and fell, drowning in the water. As you are aware, whenever there is an accidental demise while in a state run institution a full investigation must be done to clear the employees of any liability. I'm sorry of this case is not up to your defining standards, Mr. Pratt, however you will handle the statements, interviews, and prepare to close the case. Unless you wish to refuse, at which time you will be suspended for insubordination and the matter referred to Dr. Hiney."
Of all of it, it was the last part that caused the full body shudder to roll down Spike's spine and curdle in his stomach. With what he hoped was a terrifyingly piercing scowl, Spike grabbed up the folder and reopened it.
The pictures showed a tiny, old woman at the end of her life. The first shot showed how she had been found, on her knees, with her face down in the water. She still wore her pink fuzzy slippers and over sized, faded house dress. The subsequent photos were of her stretched out on the floor of her small bathroom. The EMT's had checked her and pronounced her DOA.
Spike's anger abated. He knew it wasn't Myrtle's fault that she met her end in such an unhappy way. Fuckin' attendants should have been looking out for her. Spike felt his outrage shift from selfish indignation to professional ire. It wasn't much of a case. It wasn't anything Spike would have touched a month ago, but it was his now, and by damn, he would give it his best.
Spike snatched up the paperwork and nodded briskly to the Chief Inspector. "I'll take it. Where is the body now?"
Giles stood and smiled. He knew Spike wouldn't let him down and whether Spike realized it or not this was the best thing Giles could have done for him. "It's in the morgue. The ME's preliminary report is in there. If you get this all wrapped up today, the nephew would like the body released by day after tomorrow. There was no other family and he wants an immediate cremation. I know this is a rookie case Spike, but as soon as the psych releases you we will swamp you with all the shootings, stabbings, and poisoners you can handle."
Spike relented, accepted the offered hand shake, the food stamp case and chuckled. Hell he had to admit sometimes a little charity is better than starvation. "I'll hold you to that promise."
With a wave of the file folder and a brisk nod of his head, Spike turned and headed out. Checking the time on his watch he wondered if Xander was free for lunch. He snorted knowing the odds of him passing up a meal were slim to none. Spike grinned. Suddenly he felt great and wanted to share it with his Xan.
Letting his mind wander he thought back over the last few weeks. It had taken several days for the adrenelin rush to abate after that night of the arrest. The weeks that followed his release from the hospital were a blur of court dates, preliminaries, evidentury hearings and finally the Grand Jury's indictment of all the charges against Elvin Masters.
Following that had been their ten day vacation in Vegas. Hot mornings in the sun, cool afternoons in the casinos and erotic nights in Xander. It had all been perfect. It had all culminated in the crash of reality when they returned home.
The stress of returning to duty, but not, the odd looks and snide remarks from some of the officers, now the strain of trying to figure out what to say and not do to pass the Hiney test........Spike shook his head. He knew he had been acting like a total arse and taking all his frustrations out on Xander but he didn't seem able to stop. On one hand that tiny flat seemed smaller than a prison cell, yet the thought of leaving it and the man inside almost made him physically sick. He loved Xander. He needed Xander. He hated that he needed Xander so much.
Spike straightened his shoulders and held his head up high. He promised himself, for the hundredth time to be a better boyfriend. He vowed to stop nagging about moving to a larger place because he knew Xander would never want to. 'Hell' he reasoned, 'it's not that cramped. More like cozy. Yeah, that's it, our flat is cozy.'
Spike was surprised at how much better he felt. Maybe things were going to start to finally turn around. He was ashamed to admit it but he was almost grateful to Myrtle for taking a swan dive.
Rushing back down the hall to his office, Spike went into professional mode. If anyone at the nursing home was negligent or irresponsible enough to be in any way responsible for this poor ladies premature death, he'd sniff them out.
'O.k." He thought. 'Considering her age maybe she was on borrowed time but that doesn't mean shit.' This case, and Myrtle Miller, would get his best.
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