*****

Dear Diary,

Guess what? I'm an insensitive asshole. Big surprise there, right?

How long has Spike been living in my apartment now? Seriously. How long has he been sleeping on the fold out bed-couch thing in my living room, storing his clothes in my hall closet and his blood-bags and beer in my refrigerator?

Two weeks. Sixteen days to be exact.

And in all of that time did I *ever once* consider that he was in pain? Grieving? Confused?

Nope. Not me. I'm Xander the self-centered angst-master. Too busy looking inside of my own skull to look around and see what's been right in front of my nose all along.

I'm so stupid.

This whole mess is really my own fault. I didn't see...and at first, I admit it, I *refused* to see. And afterwards, I was sunk in my own misery and despair, so I *couldn't* see it. But now? Well, I had it thrown in my face loud and clear and there is no denying that it's real. Spike's grief that is.

See, I went shopping. No biggie, right? I mean, the pantry was looking pretty bare. And let's be honest, take-out is expensive after a while. So...shopping. Grabbed some soap and stuff. Some bread and lunch meat, some frozen dinner things, some cans of soup, cereal and a half gallon of milk...and a box of hot chocolate mix with those little mini-marshmallows in it.

When I got back to the apartment, I guess my banging around in the kitchen putting stuff away woke up Spike. Not surprising, he was right there sleeping on the pullout bed in the living room. Anyway, he stumbled into the kitchen all sleepy and grumbling and went to the fridge to grab a bag of blood when he stopped by the microwave and just sort of stared at it.

Then he started shaking real hard. All over body trembles. Curious, and just a touch worried, I went over to see what was wrong with the microwave. Turns out it wasn't the microwave that was bothering him. It was the box of hot chocolate mix.

By dumb luck I had grabbed the exact same brand that Joyce favored.

Pinkish tears started to drip down Spike's cheek and he began this babbling rant about Joyce, late night chats over cocoa and trying to learn how to live in an alien world with a handicap. A lot of it didn't make too much sense, but I got the general gist that Joyce was the only one of us who would listen to Spike rant and rave when things got too much. When the depression over the chip was too high or when he was baffled by the way the humans around him acted, he would go to her, she made him hot chocolate and they talked.

And all I could think was that when Joyce first died I had accused him of using her death as an excuse to get close to Buffy...when all along, he had been mourning the death of his best, and possibly *only*, friend. And now? Now I had just unwittingly poured salt into an open wound.

So, I did the only thing I could think of to do. I made sure the milk was in the fridge so it wouldn't spoil, made up two cups of hot chocolate and then sat him down and let him babble at me. He's almost as good at it as Willow...although I'm pretty sure her rants never included ripping the heads off of people. But that's okay, I can now understand and empathize with that particular desire.

Then, after he had calmed to the point of being semi-rational, I suggested we go out and hunt. Luckily, by then, the sun was beginning to set. So, we changed and armed ourselves and went out. We hunted. Then, we got drunk and toasted Joyce all night long.

It was a good bonding experience for us I'm sure, but I can't help but feel like I should have known. *Before* Spike had an emotional meltdown in the middle of the kitchen. I should have realized *sometime* between Joyce's death and tonight that Spike had real feelings for her that had *nothing* to do with either Buffy or Dawn.

But I didn't and Spike suffered because of it.

Well, no more. This I promise. I'm going to open my eyes and I'm going to *see* what's in front of me from now on. I have no excuse to turn a blind eye to anything or anyone. Besides, I doubt that anything I learn could hurt me half as much as losing Anya did, so I really do have nothing to lose from being aware. However, I could end up losing the guy who's slowly turning into my best friend if I don't.

Wait? Did I just write that Spike's becoming my *best* friend?

Yeah...I guess I did. Well...what do you know. Funny thing is...I think that statement is true.

Alexander L. Harris

END