Title: "Long Time Gone"
Author: Yindagger
Rating: NC-17
Spoilers: Through Season 7
Disclaimer: No malice, no money; love these guys, but they aren't mine - just borrowing, please don't sue.
Warnings: Sex, smut, naughtiness, man-love, a little bloodplay, violence, bad language, sarcasm and gratuitous singing in the car. Also, this story is going to be very long; brace yourself.
Summary: Xander's been away for eight years having a normal life. That's all been shot to hell and he's come back to Sunnydale looking for a little help from his friends, and Spike.
Feedback: Writer: will work for feedback. yindagger@yahoo.com
Archive: List archive when finished ... anyone else - simply ask.

Chapter One

Xander Harris looked down at the two platinum bands on his left ring finger. He wound them around and around his finger unconsciously. The sun was setting, and he really needed to get out of the car. He gave the rings a final twist and then settled them into the slight groove they had formed in his skin. He clutched both hands on the steering wheel and looked straight ahead.

His car was sitting in the driveway of a large, beautifully restored Victorian house located in a residential section of Sunnydale, California. The house was white with dark gray trim, and a black wrought-iron fence surrounded it. The ornate gate was directly in front of his bumper. Inside the gate was an immaculately landscaped yard. A short path led up to the house's front porch, which held several wicker rocking chairs.

Xander stepped out of his car and into the gathering twilight. He walked to the gate and gave it an experimental push. It opened silently, and he stepped through it, his fingers lingering for a moment on the letter "S" that was worked into the gate's design. He walked up the path and climbed the steps. He trailed his fingers over the back of one of the rocking chairs and hesitated, looking at the door before him. He drew in a deep breath and let it out in a long, controlled exhalation. He touched the two rings on his left hand lightly with his right index finger, and then raised his right hand to knock on the door. Before he could touch it, the door opened silently, and Xander found himself pinned by the direct gaze of two icy blue eyes.

"What do you want?" the voice was a low growl, and Xander caught himself before he could step back reflexively. His brown eyes met the steely blue ones.

"Spike. It's me. Xander." He waited.

Xander was completely unprepared to see the spark of - was it joy? Happiness? - that flared in the other man's eyes. Then a long, pale hand snaked out of the house and snatched him inside.

Xander was startled by his quick entry into the house. He was even more startled when Spike immediately started looking him over, even touching his shoulder to turn him around. After finishing the inspection, Spike's eyes met Xander's again, and Xander noted that the shuttered look he remembered so well was back, and he missed that little spark he had seen before. Xander couldn't help but grin at the vampire before him. Spike looked almost exactly the same. His hair was still white-blond and gelled into submission, his scarred eyebrow raised in a "typical Spike" sardonic expression. The two men looked at each other for a moment, then both burst out laughing as they realized they were dressed almost exactly the same. They were both wearing black jeans and black tee shirts, though Xander had on black tennis shoes and Spike's feet were bare. They laughed easily together for a moment. The moment passed, and Xander knew he needed to try to talk past the lump that had suddenly appeared in his throat. He was just getting ready to try and force words out when Spike spoke.

"You want a beer?"

Xander nodded gratefully and followed the blond man as he turned to go further into the house. As he followed Spike, Xander looked around the house curiously. Despite its fussy exterior, the inside of the house was comfortably decorated. The layout was open, with large, airy rooms. The large living room was painted in several shades of taupe and brown, and the furniture arrayed in front of the fireplace looked very comfortable. He noticed a small door under the sweeping staircase and assumed it concealed a bathroom. On the way to the kitchen they passed a large dining room; Xander got the impression of big, dark furniture and the glint of a crystal chandelier.

The kitchen itself proved to be a revelation. It looked like it had been transported from the set of a show on the Food Network. The appliances were all stainless steel, and a huge pot rack, overflowing with polished copper pans, hung above a butcher-block island. The kitchen also had a fireplace, which was fronted by two leather club chairs and a low table. Spike waved Xander to one of the chairs and walked to the fridge.

Xander sank into the soft chair and relaxed for the first time in days. Spike wasn't going to question him or make him talk until he was ready. The feeling that washed over him at this easy acceptance very nearly brought tears to his eyes. He looked down at his hands and twisted the two rings for a moment until he regained his composure. Xander heard the sound of a bottle cap being popped and looked up. Spike stepped in front of him and handed him an icy bottle.

"Thanks."

Spike nodded and slipped into the other leather chair and took a sip of his own beer. His blue eyes watched Xander expectantly with an unreadable expression.

"It's … it's good to see you, Spike." Xander stammered a little as he spoke. "How have you been?"

Spike hesitated, and then spoke quietly, "It's to be small talk, then?" His mouth quirked at Xander in a small grin. "Well, why not?" He took a long pull of his beer and then turned again to his guest. "Who do you want to know about? Willow, Dawn, Angel, Buffy, Clem, the Watcher, Demon girl?"

"You."

Blue eyes searched brown in the ensuing silence. Spike drained his beer and set the bottle on the table in front of him. "Me. Ooooooookay. Well, I have a house." He gestured to the room around them. "I live here. I'm still the new and improved 'all soul - no chip' Spike that I was when you left." He hesitated and looked at the human for a long moment. "Funny thing, that. 'Til I had a soul I didn't have a good grasp on the concept of guilt. But, I figured it out well enough to make Angel pony up part of that big pile of cash he's been sitting on for a century or so. That takes care of the blood money, and lets me annoy Angel pretty frequently." The two men shared a smile; Spike well remembered Xander's animosity toward his grand-sire.

Xander nodded. "Still fighting the good fight?"

Spike nodded ruefully. "Y'know, Buffy moved to LA with Angel a few years ago? Dawn's still here - she runs all the little Slayer-wannabes, well, the ones who survived. Buffy rotates them in and out to various places to keep the peace. Dawn's sort of the Hellmouth logistics department. They call me out when they get into something particularly nasty. It keeps the killer in me happy. You keep up with anyone?"

Xander looked down at his hands, not surprised to find himself twirling the rings unconsciously. "No, not really. Until recently, it was a clean break. I talked to Willow for the first time in eight years about three days ago." He lapsed into silence. "Spike, are Buffy and Dawn happy?"

Spike fingered the bottle in front of him, tearing at the label. "They are", he said in a measured tone. "Well, Buffy's with the Poof, so it's changeable from minute to minute. But, yeah, she's happy. Little Bit - she's great." Spike smiled broadly, the smile even reaching his eyes. "She married a nice guy five years ago - he's a local, so he knew the score. They have a little girl who's 2. I call her the Littlest Bit. Her real name's Sara." Spike smiled to himself, and then looked back up at Xander. The smile dropped off of his face as he saw tears fill stricken brown eyes, just before Xander jumped out of his chair and fled the room.