Pairing: Spike/Xander
Rating: PG-13 for language
Words: 2x100
Spoilers: You know how Buffy ended, right?
Concrit: Please. If you spot a typo, please feel free to tell me in comments.
Disclaimer: Not mine, never will be. No harm, no foul, no money made.
Warnings/Squicks: Deathfic, kinda, only Spike comes back from the dead eventually. :D
Summary: Xander misses more than he expected to after the loss of Sunnydale.
Notes: Written for stagesoflove prompt set #11 - Five ways to say "I miss you" (writer's choice)

Missing You

by
Darkhavens

1 Grief and Parting Gifts

When they finally found a motel that could take them all, the girls grabbed their bags from the luggage space and staggered inside in almost silent clumps of two and three.

Xander stood back and let them scuffle amongst themselves, content to retrieve his stuff once they were gone.

He wasn't expecting to find two bags - the one he vaguely remembered packing, between miniature panic attacks, and the one that had disappeared somewhere around the last time Spike had been under his roof.

The ache in his chest was unexpected. Sure, he was grieving for Anya, but… Spike? Apparently so.

Harris.

I'd say I'm sorry for nicking your bag, but we both know I'd be lying.

I knew you'd get it back anyway, especially after I got a look at that shiny bauble the wanker delivered. A flash piece of kit like that always carries a hefty price tag, and it was my turn to pay the piper.

But enough of this maudlin shite; what's done's done.

I don't have much to show for over a hundred years of hellraising existence, but what I have is yours. If nothing else it's got to be worth more than those stupid bloody plates.

2 The Crash and The Clash

For weeks Xander doesn't do more than move the bag from one place to another, too weighted down by grief and despair, by apathy and bone-deep weariness.

Then comes a burst of frantic energy that leaves him no time to weep or mourn or break himself against his memories.

One moment he's staring at a TV he has no recollection of buying, and the next he's on his knees in the closet, pawing through the bag, half-terrified by something that tastes like hope.

The disc's there, just as he'd thought, and there's a crumpled, neatly written yellow PostIt Note attached.

Harris,

If you're going to borrow a bloke's music without asking, the least you could do is put it back properly, you berk.

Knowing the lyrics to every track on the double album (Christ, I miss vinyl!) is all well and good, but there's no point mouthing the words if you can't feel them on the inside.

'London's Calling', 'Four Horsemen', hell, even 'Koka Kola' has something to say, and I know you're smart enough to see it, if you'll only look.

Don't go back to something just because you think you should, but don't get 'Lost in the Supermarket' either.

The 'double album' is, of course, 'London's Burning' by The Clash. For a deeper understanding of this double-drabble, the lyrics of the above named tracks, 'London's Calling', 'Four Horsemen', 'Koka Kola' and 'Lost in the Supermarket' should be read while keeping in mind both Spike and, especially for the last one, Xander.

The Clash
London Calling

The Clash
Four Horsemen

The Clash
Koka Kola

The Clash
Lost In The Supermarket

3 New Leather Versus Old Rubber and Plastic Crocodile-Skin

The girls send him an Italian leather wallet for Christmas. It sits in a drawer for months.

He feels guilty when he finally starts to empty out his old, Made in Taiwan, plastic crocodile-skin gift from Grammy Harris.

On the front there's an acid burn the size of his thumb, from when Spike picked a fight with spitting-mad Gruylen. He'd returned it with a grin and the offer of a slug from his new pint of Jack.

There's a condom tucked away, three years out of date; Anya always brought her own, lubricated, ribbed and flavored.

There's also a note.

The way your demon bird's always going on about your bedroom activities, I had you pegged as an extra large at the very least. Must be your technique, or maybe your staying power. Every time you get knocked down you bounce right back up again; I bet she likes that. (July-17-2000)

Well, bugger me sideways. I can't believe this daft note's still here. The Slayer's risen from the grave, I've been to hell and back, and you're still carrying this little scrap of paper behind the same old out-of-date rubber Johnny.

Get a life, Harris, before it's too late. (May-7-2003)

4 Platters For Platters

It's only when Xander finally decides to put his Babylon 5 plates on display that he discovers they're not there any more. In their place is a stack of vinyl discs, carefully preserved, along with their garish paper sleeves, in tightly taped up bubble wrap.

Xander is not amused.

He digs - carefully - through the cuckoo's eggs for the note he knows he's going to find: all perfect copperplate penmanship and Spike's imperfect charm.

It's taped to the bubble wrap protecting Pressed For Cash, by Peter and the Test Tube Babies/Fits. He reads it twice, then reaches for the phone.

"Andrew?"

Yes, I'm a thieving bastard, but I knew you'd guard those daft collector's plates with your life. After you packed them up I took them out again and threatened Andrew with a thousand different deaths if he didn't get them back to you, somehow. 'Course, I knew the toe-rag'd probably keep them for himself, but they'd still be safe and sound, just waiting for you.

You can break the rest of them if it makes you feel better, but this one was worth Ł700 last time I checked, and the others must be worth at least thrice that together.

Spike.

The price given for the vinyl mentioned is correct, AFAIK.

5 The End and A Beginning

It doesn't occur to him that there might be something odd about starting a conversation with the words 'Spike says you have my plates', but there's certainly something odd about the response he gets.

"I don't know what… It wasn't… Ooh, I knew he was still evil! Wait 'til I see him next week, I'll-"

It wasn't difficult to get the details out of Andrew, it only cost Xander continued custody of the purloined plates.

He was on a plane an hour later, in LA two after that.

Another hour saw him standing in the lobby of Wolfram and Hart.

Don't even think about getting dressed and leaving, Harris, not after that… unexpected reunion scene. Demon girl wasn't kidding about that Viking thing, was she?

And don't go working yourself up into some huge ball of denial. There's no way that was the first time you've ever had a cock in your mouth. 'Course, your technique could do with a bit of fine-tuning, but we can sort that out once I've had a word with the poof about getting you on the payroll.

Keep the blankets warm, pet, I'll be back with breakfast. You're going to need the energy.

Spike