Disclaimer: What? Oh… fine. It’s Joss’!!! Jeez, I know already. Do ya have to rub it in and make me keep saying it? You do? Oh… okay.

A/N: This is a oneshot I wrote recently. It just popped in my head and wouldn’t leave. Some ideas for continuation are still flying around in there, but I think I like it where it is. Unless, of course, you guys think I should continue. Maybe I will. Anyways, I hope you enjoy it, and remember to review to tell me what you think! Oh, and I don’t have a beta for my buffy stories, so I apologize for any mistakes I missed by myself.


Head hung, water pelting his hair and clothing, eyes staring at the wet pavement, he saw nothing but the flashes of memories. His parents screaming at each other on Christmas morning. His dad pouring glass after glass. Tears streaming down his mother’s cheeks. Himself, tucked in a corner, shaking and holding his knees to his chest, eyes closed as hard as he could make them, wishing the sounds of the front door slamming and the cars engine revving away. Flashes of the same scenes – but the hand that poured the amber liquid was attached to his face. The tears bled from the eyes of the woman he loved, and he watched as he hurt her and their family, over and over and over.

No amount of love could keep him from becoming this, this monster. He would hurt people. But he was determined to not make her one of those people.

His feet were cold, puddle after puddle seeping through his shoes. He wandered through familiar streets. No destination, no place to go. Just had to go away, had to make them go away. The memories, the thoughts of, of hurting her. Had to make them stop. Had to squash them. Kill them. Drown them, he could drown them. He was already drowning in them. How could he drown them? Make them disappear forever?

Another memory played through his head. Flashes of the Bronze, his friends, Willow drinking away her pain.

'Will, not loving the drowning of the sorrows.'

Of course. Where else but in the bottom of the bottle could he bury those memories? The bottle started all of it anyways. All the pain, all the badness. Why not make it finish it? The end, the beginning – didn’t everything end with the beginning? It was only meant to happen. He would fall victim to the bottle eventually. He might as well fall while drowning his sorrows too. Bring them down with him.

His feet continued to patter through the mud and rain. Destination was still foggy, unknown. Giles kept scotch at his house. But he wasn’t there. He was in England. He had left him. Along with everyone else. Everyone else who was at the wed- the place. Everyone else who he couldn’t face. He supposed the Evil Undead always had a stash hidden up in his crypt. Would he be there? Was he at the w- the place? Foggy memories he tried to block out – scenes of wedding preparations – came streaming through and flooded his mind, but he still didn’t recall. If the bleach-blond vampire had accepted the invitation she had insisted they give, would the crypt be empty? Would the stash be in sight? Could he find it? And drown in it? It’s not like he would be stealing. Not really. The vamp had probably stolen it in the first place. Not like it mattered. He didn’t matter. Not the vampire, not himself. Neither of them mattered.

Somehow his brain had told his feet to turn, or his feet had made the decision themselves. Mud splattered his pants’ legs, sinking into the soften ground of Restfield cemetery, then loud squelching sounds from pulling his shoes from the grass-covered land became a pattern as he trenched his way towards the crypt of the vampire he had put up with for the past four years. His thoughts were still weighed down by the mist that blocked clarity from finding its place in his mind as he looked up to find himself already at the front door of the bleach-blonde’s idea of a house.

The image of his drunken father yelling at his cowering mother, raising his hand again and again, her face hardening – still covered in tears – as she screamed in response. Hurtful words pierced his mind, attacking relentlessly as the voice morphed and the room spun until he was watching the scene of the supposed future if he married the woman he was supposed to love, to care for.

Shoving the thoughts out, shoving the door open with a bang, he stumbled in the dark crypt and collapsed to the ground. On his hands and knees, breaths coming in harsh, quick repetition, he was further startled when a voice rang out.

“Wot’re you doin’ here?”

Xander’s head snapped upwards and he was surprised to see Spike – trusty bottle of JD in one hand – sitting sideways on the comfy chair in the middle of the room. Eyebrows furrowing, Xander ignored the question that had been directed at him.

“What are you doing here?” he challenged back.

Spike raised one eyebrow.

“I live here, whelp. Anyways, I asked you first.”

“I know you live here; I’m not stupid, you know!” Xander shot back. Spike’s other eyebrow rose up as well, but Xander tried to ignore it. “And I asked you second.”

“And that matters because…” the vampire tilted his head, as if realizing something for the first time. “There something interesting on the floor there?”

Xander quickly shuffled and stood up, cheeks blazing in embarrassment, clothes soaked in rainwater, and eyes lost in confusion.

“There was… uh… I… uh… dropped something.”

Form the way Spike was looking at him, Xander knew it would be fruitless to continue. Giving up with an audible sigh, the soaked figure squeaked his way to the stone coffin that used to be a make-shift bed.

As the bleach-blonde kept staring at the solemn, suit-clad boy, something pressed through his alcohol-clouded mind. A frown marred his sharp features.

“Aren’t you supposed to be at the wedding?”

Xander visibly flinched at the painful words. “I was hoping you would be there,” he mumbled in response under his breath.

“Well, I never thought I’d see the day-” Spike started to comment before Xander interrupted, rolling his eyes.

“I meant – wait, why aren’t you there?” Xander’s eyes turned suspicious, a look the vampire knew well.

“Maybe I didn’t feel like going. Not like I’d be missed,” Spike resonded gruffly, a defensive undertone lacing his tone. Another swallow of burning alcohol helped the words down.

“But I saw you there earlier!” Xander defended, doubting his own memory at this point.

“Yeah, well – I always thought you was sack o’hammers.” Another swing of Jack.

A confused Xander dove a hand into his dripping-wet hair. “But I thought Will said-”

Spike sighed. “Yeah, well, maybe I was there for a while and just left.”

“Why?”

“Why do you care?!” Spike snapped back, bottle of Jack slamming down on a table next to the chair he had collapsed in after coming back from the wedding. He sighed, mimicking Xander’s actions by running his own hand through his gelled locks. Then his glare turned right back to the figure on his coffin. “It’s your wedding. Why aren’t you there?”

Xander simply sat there, staring at an object in the room which only he could see as if it would disappear once he looked away. Then he looked back at the vampire, taking in his drunken, depressed figure.

'He’s drowning.'

The thought came out of Nowhere, Nevada, but he didn’t care. Somehow, the thought of talking to someone else who was drowning seemed like a really nice idea, even if that someone was the evil undead.

“I’ll tell you mine if you tell me yours,” he offered.

The vampire gazed at him quizzically for a few moments. Maybe this could help him, if only a little. He jumped off the chair and onto his feet.

“Okay.”

“Don’t forget the Jack.”

The two men smiled at each other for what may have been the first time.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Five minutes was all it took.

Five minutes filled with nothing but the heavy drinking of a bottle of amber liquid to prepare them for the upcoming talk. That is, a bottle each.

As they reached for a second bottle of the alcohol, their hands fell upon the glass neck of the sole survivors of the small stack Spike had managed to round up.

“Thoo,” Xander slurred, fingers struggling to open the bottle in his hands. “Who goeth firth?

“You’re pissed,” Spike declared, eyes widening before a giggle escaped his lips, “Light-weight.”

“Yer not ‘xactly thober buddy,” he responded, poking Spike on his left ear after missing his shoulder.

“Least I can hold me liquer,” Spike boasted, puffing out his chest.

“Yeah, well, why don’t you thart with the thories then, mither I-can-hold-my-booze.” Xander swayed slightly as he took the first sip of his new bottle.

“Y'ain’t gonna like it,” Spike warned.

Xander just waited.

“Fine,” Spike grumbled before letting out a loud sigh. His demeanor transformed in an instant, eyes glazing over as he thought about the secret he was about to unleash. He ran his hand through his tousled bleached locks.

“You know how I love Buffy,” he began.

“Woah, here. I athed why you weren’t at the wedding. What'hat gotta do bout Buff?” Xander interrupted, eyebrows meeting each other.

“I’m getting there! Jus’… take some background info.”

“No tain’t. Juth thpit it out,” Xander objected.

Spike glared at him before taking another swig of Jack.

“Fine. I went to the wedding. Brought a date. Some strange chit. No clue who she was. Is. Anyways, brought her to make Goldilocks confront the green monster. Worked too.”

The vampire paused, a small smile covering his face as he remembered. Then he shook himself out of it.

“Anyways,” his smile changed; it was – sad. As if the memories he called back had dual-sided emotions. “I didn’t wanna spoil her happiness. I haven’t seen her that happy in - well, in a long time. So I left.” He turned to face Xander again. The guy was staring at him, as if he was piecing something together in his mind.

“The green monster?” he questioned.

Spike rolled his eyes, “Bloody hell. Don’t they teach you kids anything nowadays?”

Xander still seemed confused.

“’S Shakespeare. Means jealous.”

“Oh….Oh!”

Spike watched as the last puzzle piece fell into place in Xander’s mind.

“So, you were trying to make Buffy jealous? Of another girl? And it worked?” Spike merely nodded, tossing back another swig of alcohol as he did so.

“So you two… All those times… hey! You were so not doing push-ups! Oh, gross!”

Spike burst out laughing at the memory of the time Buffy had turned invisible. The look on Xander’s face was priceless.

But then they both grew solemn as Xander realized something else.

“But it’s over?”

The question hung in the air as it stabbed the vampire in the gut.

Xander knew what the silence meant but he didn’t know why.

“I’m guessing she did it,” he whispered, eyes still focused on the bleach-blonde staring at the floor.

Spike’s mouth tightened, his tongue ran over his upper teeth.

“Yeah,” he breathed.

“Why?” Xander was almost scared to ask.

“She, uh…” Spike bit on his lips, sitting up before dragging his hand through his hair again and pulling his feet up on the sarcophagus, resting one elbow on his knee. “She said it was killing her.”

The silence lingered. For a moment, just a moment, Xander thought he saw a hint of tears in the supposedly-evil, supposedly-emotionless vampire next to him.

Somehow Xander found his hand resting on the bleach-blonde’s left shoulder.

“I’m sorry.”

The actions and words startled the vampire, but he was filled with joy at the small sign of friendliness.

“Hey,” he sniffle, “’S not your fault now, is it?”

“If its anybody’s fault its probably mine,” Xander countered. “She was probably afraid of rejection. From us. From me.”

Neither of them knew what to say to that, both knowing it was probably the truth. Xander removed his hand, ringing it around the glass body of the bottle he held.

“Well,” Xander tried to lighten the mood. “at least you didn’t go and leave her at the alter.”

Spike’s eyes went wide.

“You did WHAT?!?!?!”

Xander’s hand immediately slapped against his mouth when he reaqlized he had accidentally let the cat out of the bag. Spike still couldn’t believe it. He turned his entire body to face the brunette idiot beside him.

“You’re tellin’ me, that the reason you’re here, getting’ wasted with me, ‘stead of getting’ hitched and havin’ the time of your life, is cause you went and DITCHED YOUR GIRL?!?”

Xander’s face merely grew solemn and he chewed on the lower lip he had taken hostage in his mouth.

“HAVE YOU ANY HEART?!” the vampire demanded of him.

“Of course I do!” Xander interrupted, tears threatening to pour out quite unmanly once again.

“Sure don’t sound like it to me,” the bleach-blonde spat, angry that the whelp had just passed up the chance of a lifetime like that.

“That’s cause you don’t understand.”

“So explain.”

Xander let out a shaken sigh, dropping his head to his hands as the haunting memories spun chaotically within his head. “I love her so much. Too much to hurt her like that. Too much to do that to her.”

“What the bleedin’ hell are you goin’ on about?” Spike asked incredulously. “How’s marryin’ her gonna hurt her? ‘S what she wants, innit?”

“YOU DON’T UNDERSTAND!” Xander yelled, throwing his almost empty bottle of Jack across the room where it smashed into the wall, glass shattering and traces of liquid sliding towards the floor.

“You don’t understand,” Xander sobbed again, his palms digging into his eyes as he saw the painful possibilities flash before him. “My parents… my dad… they argue so much., all the time… he always drinks… she always hates it… she’s scared of him… he’s hurt her, I don’t wanna hurt her… I don’t wanna be my parent all over again… I hated it when they argued… when he drank… when she cried… I don’t want her to cry…”

Spike understood. He grabbed Xander’s shoulders firmly, shaking the brunette until his teary eyes raised from his wet hands to look at the bleach-blonde.

“You listen to me,” the vampire demanded. Xander wiped the back of his hand beneath his eyes, shifting as he did so. “And listen good. You two ain’t your folks. And you sure as hell ain’t your dad. You’re not like that, as much as it pains me to say it, you – you’re strong. And you love your bird was too much to ever, ever hurt her. Besides, you think she’d take that?” Xander released a sob-filled laugh. “That’s what I thought. So, hey. You got a whole lotta nothin’ to worry bout. ‘Cept the usual. On the hellmouth, that might be a lot. But are you gonna let a ‘might-be’ get in your way?”

“But, but – what if?” Xander whispered, eyes desperate.

“What if what? What if it doesn’t turn out? What if you do end up a drunk? What if you do hurt her? What if her life woulda been better if she never met you?” Xander flinched, Spike knew this was what was bothering the boy.

“Bugger that. No, look at me. Sod it. If you love her like you say you love her, no what-ifs should even register. They don’t matter. Not now, not ever. What happens, happens. And as long as you never doubt your love for her, as long as you make sure she knows it, you’ll be able to get over all the speed bumbs and hills and Mount Everests that get in you rway. Love takes risk. Cause its worth it. Heck, you think people love cause its easy? You think I love Buffy cause its easy? It’s the hardest thing I’ve ever done. It spins my entire world of its axis and into the neighboring galaxy. But when I’m around to see her smile, to see her glow like she was today, when I’m able to be there for her, to omfort her, the feelings I get, the sense of that special something – like I found something I’ve been searching for since I came into existence – is so wonderful, I’m too selfish to not trudge through the hardships. I need that feeling. It’s worth it. Worth the pain, worth the rejection, worth the destruction, the trials, the arguments.”

Xander simply stared in wonder at the vampire whose glazed gaze had focused on the entry to the lower level of his crypt.

“So, yeah. It’ll be hard. You’ll wanna give up, give in, do anything to get rid of it. But the harder you fight for it, the sweeter it’ll taste when you finally reach it. Cause loving someone is the worst, most painful thing any being could ever subject on themselves. But they want it, they yearn for it, because its also the most wonderful, most glorious feeling anyone could ever experience. That’s why people love. That’s why they make themselves so miserable. To be truly happy. So, if you wanna throw all that away, if you wanna take what very well may be a chance at true happiness and toss it out the window and into the sewers, be my guest. Never really liked you anyway.” The two men smiled softly at each other again. “But if you want that, if you want to give her that, then take a risk! And run as fast as your legs can take you to that wedding and mend that foolish tear you ripped.”

Thoughts swirled through Xander’s mind. Was this bleach-blonde, evil, undead, much hated vampire right? Would it be worth the risk? How could he ever know if he never took the leap? Maybe he would fall, but maybe he wouldn’t. He wasn’t his father. Even Spike said so. He could be better than that. He could make it work.

He looked up, eyes meeting those of the platinum-haired vampire. Those eyes, belonging to a person who was able to pick up his shattered pieces out of the water, seemed broken. Xander had been saved from drowning, now he had to return the favor.

Determined, Xander jumped off the sarcophagus, landing on both of his feet. Determination didn’t keep him from swaying from side to side and nearly falling over however. After taking a moment to steady himself, he turned around to face Spike again.

“So, I guess we better get going then. Anya’ll be mad at me as it is for being this late.”

Xander grinned and Spike returned a smile.

“See, told ya you were strong.”

“Yeah,” Xander bashfully looked to his shuffling feet. “Thanks for that by the way. I really needed it.”

Spike dismissed it with a shrug. “I’m drunk. Got no responsibility for my actions.”

“HA! I told you you was drunk!” Xander smile gleefully.

“Whatever,” Spike smiled a little. “Well, get goin’ whelp. They’re gonna think you turned invisible or fell through a portal or some such rot.”

“Hey, you’re coming with me.”

Spikie looked at the groom incredulously. “What you goin’ on about now? I ain’t goin’ back.”

Xander rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are. Now, c’mon.”

“No.”

“Yes.”

“NO.”

“YES.”

“Why should I?”

“Because I said so.”

Spike raised an eyebrow.

Xander sighed. Time to throw in the floaty device. “Because you should be there. No, look – you helped me today. If it weren’t for you, I don’t even know if there’d be a wedding. And you should talk to Buffy. Hey, don’t roll your eyes at me, undead! I’ll… talk to her, then maybe you two can work something out.”

Spike was now staring at the human in awe. “You’d do that? For me?”

Xander shrugged. “Drunk, remember?”

“I think that’s just an excuse.

Grins were exchanged.

“What are we still sittin’ here for then? We got us a wedding to go to.”