Title: Words of Advice Author: Nash Pairing: Spike/Xander Rating: PG Characters: Not mine, Joss' *pout* Concrit: Sure. Go for it. A/N: Written for the Music of Pain ficathon based on "The Gambler". Lyrics below. A/N 2: There'll be character death though I'll leave it up to you to say if it's permanent! ::grin:: Song lyrics On a warm summer's evenin' on a train bound for nowhere, I met up with the gambler; we were both too tired to sleep. So we took turns a starin' out the window at the darkness 'til boredom overtook us, and he began to speak. He said, son, I've made a life out of readin' people's faces, And knowin' what their cards were by the way they held their eyes. So if you don't mind my sayin', I can see you're out of aces. For a taste of your whiskey I'll give you some advice. So I handed him my bottle and he drank down my last swallow. Then he bummed a cigarette and asked me for a light. And the night got deathly quiet, and his face lost all expression. Said, if you're gonna play the game, boy, ya gotta learn to play it right. You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, Know when to walk away and know when to run. You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table. There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin's done. Now ev'ry gambler knows that the secret to survivin' Is knowin' what to throw away and knowing what to keep. 'cause ev'ry hand's a winner and ev'ry hand's a loser, And the best that you can hope for is to die in your sleep. So when he'd finished speakin', he turned back towards the window, Crushed out his cigarette and faded off to sleep. And somewhere in the darkness the gambler, he broke even. But in his final words I found an ace that I could keep. You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, Know when to walk away and know when to run. You never count your money when you're sittin' at the table. There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin's done. You got to know when to hold 'em, know when to fold 'em, Know when to walk away and know when to run. You never count you r money when you're sittin' at the table. There'll be time enough for countin' when the dealin's done. * Xander spent the entire journey to the mission in an uncharacteristic silence. He still wasn't sure exactly why he'd volunteered for this trip. He could have let Andrew go with Spike, hopefully never to return but instead he'd jumped up and offered to go before Giles could suggest something else. He'd been back from the hospital for five minutes and already he'd just wanted to leave. It was all becoming way too much for him to handle. The whole Anya thing, being swamped by baby Slayers...He'd tried to get away by going on a date and in typical Xander style he'd landed another demon. The worst of it was that he didn't even know if he'd been really joking when he'd asked Willow to gay him up. The girl had been hot and all but Xander kept catching himself looking at random men's asses. He'd been doing that a lot in the past few years but he'd been happy with Anya so he hadn't really paid that much attention. Only in the Hellmouth would someone be having a crisis about his sexuality right in the middle of an apocalypse. And now, on top of all that he'd lost his fucking eye. So he was trying to deal with his own men-are-now-hot issues, keep everyone's morale up, fix things with Anya and for the past few days he'd had to keep reassuring people that he was fine. Well, he wasn't fine. He was feeling the pressure inside him mounting continually and he had no way to release it. He needed out, if only for a day, if only with the guy who was the walking personification of why Xander was questioning his own freaking sexuality. By the time they got to the mission, Xander was already feeling the pressure release a little. "Why does it always have to be an abandoned building?" he asked, walking in behind Spike. "One of these days we're going to be sent to investigate evil in a four-star hotel. That would be coo-" Before Xander could even finish the sentence someone came at him from his blind side, pushing him against the wall. "Spike!" he yelled, pushing the guy off of him. "Bringer!" He watched Spike deal with the guy, and push the hood off his face. He seemed perfectly normal. Well, if you didn't count the ugly looking mark on his cheek. "Okay, maybe not a Bringer," Xander muttered, approaching the guy. He let Spike do the questioning. After the burst of adrenaline faded, the tiredness had returned with a vengeance. He stayed quiet, following the monk and Spike into a secret compartment, until the monk confessed, that he'd run away. "Don't knock running," he said quietly, "it helps people survive." The monk didn't look reassured. "He did this to me," Xander gestured towards his eye. "If you hadn't ran, we wouldn't know about this. It may help us defeat him. You did good." Spike's voice thankfully distracted Xander from the pity he could see in the monk's eyes. "It is not for thee. It is for her alone to wield." Xander walked closer to the inscription. "How much do you bet that 'her' is Buffy? What's 'it' though?" * Xander was vaguely ashamed of the relief he felt when they discovered that the sun was already up. With no way to go back without flambé-ed Spike, they had to stick around for the day. They had another look around the mission but the monk was nowhere to be seen. Spike settled down with back against the wall and knees drawn up close to his chest. In contrast to Spike's apparent composure Xander was feeling restless and out of sorts. He sure as hell didn't want to be heading back so why was he feeling so trapped? He finally settled for standing next to the window, staring out at nothing. "Want some advice, Harris?" Xander nearly jumped out of his skin at the suddenness with which Spike's voice intruded in his thoughts. "No," he snapped, fighting the urge to move so that he could see Spike. He heard Spike sigh, an obvious sound of exasperation. "When a creature that has over a century of survival behind him asks you if you want advice, you take it, Harris and you thank them for it." This time Xander turned around, too shocked by the command in those words to fight the impulse. Spike was looking steadily at him, no sign of mockery or levity in his eyes. "Fine, then. Gimme your precious advice, oh old, wise one," he mocked, taking a funny little bow. Spike ignored his theatrics and commenced to speak. "I've lived for a long time, Harris and I made my living as a predator. Every predator knows that the secret to survival is your choice of victim. I knew who the weaker part of the herd was, I knew who wouldn't be missed, who would put up a fight, who would taste of despair or pure joy in life. I knew because I've watched humans for a long while and I know the signs. And you...you need help, Harris." Xander made a dismissive noise and turned back to the window. The obvious dismissal didn't seem to deter Spike though. "You have to know three things to survive in this world. Know when to give up. Know when you have to run from something and know when you have the luxury of walking away," Spike said, raising a finger for each piece of advice, "That's the advice?" Xander turned around and looked down at Spike incredulously. "How the hell am I supposed to know?! You don't just know stuff like that." Spike gave him a small smirk. "That's where the experience comes in. Over a hundred years and I still get the first one wrong. I didn't give up on Dru until she nearly destroyed me. Didn't give up on Buffy until I nearly destroyed her." Xander tried to raise the familiar anger when he thought of what Spike had done to Buffy but it was very hard to do. The blond had come a long way since then, most obvious being the brand new soul Buffy kept harping on about. A lot of other things had gone down since then. Xander's hand was halfway to the patch before he caught it and brought it back down. He waited for Spike to go on speaking. Except it seemed that Spike was waiting for the fireworks too. "How come you're not yelling at me, then?" "I guess Buffy's constant whining of how you have a soul now finally sunk in. And...you saved me. If you'd been a little slower..." Xander shrugged, unsure how to finish the sentence; unwilling to admit that he'd forgiven Spike before that, for less pure reasons. "Could have been faster too," Spike mumbled. "Could have not been there at all. I'm glad you were." Xander's words were soft, his eye still looking at nothing. "Right...Back to the advice..." Spike sounded distinctly uncomfortable and Xander had to smile at the blond's inability to just accept a 'thank you'. He'd tried thanking him at the hospital too but Spike had quickly changed the subject much as he did now. "What you don't know Harris is that you have the walking away and the running part down. You ran here didn't you? I know you well enough to know you don't run for long. But you ran when you needed to. And you knew to walk away from demon girl. Not the nicest thing you ever did, that. You knew you had to do it though. You just need to learn when to give up. So do I." The last one was said sadly, as if Spike knew he would never learn that part. "That's stupid, Spike. If I know all that so well then why is my eye gone? Why does  it still hurt to see Anya alone? Why do I think about...I don't even know who I am anymore. Why...fuck...why is my life so goddamn messed up?" By the end of the question Xander's anger had left him and he just felt the tiredness bringing him down. He was surprised to feel strong arms wrap around him as Spike pulled him into his embrace. Unable and unwilling to fight the need for comfort, Xander let Spike hold him and pressed his face against Spike's neck. "Hush, luv. You're a strong one and you have some time to fix things. You can't count your blessings or your curses until you're gone, pet. Time enough to count your winnings when you die." Xander let himself enjoy the comfort for a few moments before he pulled back and went to stand by the window again. "Thanks, Spike." * Xander stood in front of the crater, looking down at the centre. "I'm sorry Xan, I know you guys were friends." Buffy was standing next to him, watching him stare at the crater. "Yeah." He very carefully didn't mention the feelings he'd developed for Spike after their mission.  He'd tried to thank Spike for saving his eye by taking him out for a couple of beers and in the end they'd go every couple of days. Getting away from all that estrogen helped them both relax a little and they'd even gotten to enjoy each other's company. Friendship had soon given way to something more. Or at least, it did for Xander. He'd been too scared that Spike had still not given up on Buffy to see if things could maybe even be mutual. "Go on in, Buff. I'll be there in a minute." With a last sad look at him, Buffy left and he was finally alone. He'd worked up the courage to tell Spike what he really felt just before they went into the school. Instead of letting him down gently, Spike had grinned at him and pulled him close for a hard kiss. "Been waiting for you to say that since the first night at The Bronze, Xan. We'll talk about it when this is over, pet. Count on it." Except Spike had gone and gotten himself killed so they wouldn't be talking about it any time soon, would they? No talking, no kissing, no making fun of how Xander's little gay-me-now speech had come true. "You're supposed to know when to run, you bastard." Xander screamed at the crater, viciously kicking a rock hard enough for it to fly half way to the centre. "You're supposed to know when to fucking run!"