FIC: So Crazy it Just Might Work (Xander, Angel), Part 5: "Rm w/ a Vu"
Thank you all for waiting an extra week for this chapter. I hope it will be worth it. A whopping 3000 words here, and unbeta'd - if you spot any typos I'd love for you to point them out.
Title: So Crazy it Just Might Work
Chapter: Five - "Rm w/ a Vu"
Pairing: Angel, Xander, Doyle (Spike/Xander later on)
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Probably not what Joss envisioned. Some bits of dialogue have been stolen from AtS s1 "Rm w/ a Vu"
Thanks: To reremouse and cordelianne for their support.
Summary: A slashier version of the first season of AtS in which Angel teams up with Xander instead of Cordelia (but not in a sexual way).
Part One: "City Of..."
Part Two: "Lonely Hearts"
Part Three: "In the Dark"
Part Four: "I Fall to Pieces"
Xander flashes Doyle his best smile. “So maybe we could grab some coffee somewhere and you could tell me more about growing up overseas. And after that, we could go back to your place and, you know…” Xander lowers his voice, forcing Doyle to lean closer, “work out our cultural differences.”
Doyle nods slowly, then takes a step back. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I totally would have slept with you.”
Xander shakes his head and sighs. “He thought I was being fake. Which I totally wasn’t, by the way.”
Doyle pats Xander on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“Thanks. I’m telling you, I’d have listened to him talk about his childhood all night. I mean, the second I heard that accent, I-” The phone rings. “So anyway, then he ends up leaving with this guy, Todd. I mean, talk about fake - Todd runs more lines than AT&T.”
“Speaking of which…” Doyle tilts his head in the direction of the still-ringing phone.
“Oh, right.” Xander lunges toward the desk and gets the call just before the answering machine. “Xangel Investigations - we help the hopeless.”
“Angel,” Angel calls from the other room.
“Not a chance,” Xander calls back. “Sorry,” he says into the phone. “How can I-? Oh, hey, Will! … Xangel…. X-A-N-G-E-L…. You know, it’s like brunch or spork…. Our names…. I told you, Will, my sidekick days are over…. Well, yeah, sure, he handles most of the heavy killing, but I have my own essential functions…. Well, um, there’s the- You know, enough about me. How’s Sunnydale?.... Cool. And college life? … Good, good. And the demons? … Aren’t they always? … And how’s She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? … Well, not around here, she musn’t….”
“I can hear you,” Angel calls.
Xander puts his hand over the phone. “Can you hear Willow?” he calls back.
“No.”
“Okay, then.” Xander speaks into the phone again. “Just because I’m not allowed to, doesn’t mean you can’t. I want all the dirt…. Really? That sucks…. Oh man, guys can be such dicks…. No, see, that’s one of the special membership benefits of Club Gay - I get to say things like that and really mean them…. Oh, pretty good. I seem to be getting the hang of it…. I would not use the word special, no. Or the word seeing…. Yes, I would use the word anybody, or at least anybodies. There have been bodies. My bodies, their bodies. Body-to-body- … Yeah, okay, TMI…. You know, that sounds totally great except that things are kinda busy around here lately, so maybe we could put it off for a while…. Yeah, in fact, it’s kinda busy here right now and-” he looks up at Doyle who’s standing with his hands in his pockets “-Doyle is totally waving at me and-” he glances over at Angel who’s leaning against the desk in the next room polishing a sword “-Angel is trying to tell me something and-” he runs a finger over the single solid red light on the phone “-there are like two calls coming in on the other lines, and I’ve got to answer them, so I’ll talk to you later, okay? … Bye!”
Xander sets the receiver back in the cradle as Doyle eyes him askance.
Xander shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just, she was talking about coming to visit and, I mean, you’ve seen my apartment - it’s a hellhole. And not even a big, under-the-school-library kind of hellhole. We’re talking under-the-school-broom-closet here.” Xander thinks about it for a second. “You know, no. I spent some time in the school broom closets, and a couple of them were actually bigger than my place. Not exactly guest material.”
“True,” Doyle says.
“Plus? I’ve been watching and I’m pretty sure the rival cockroach gangs are about to unite and stage a coup. Could get nasty.” Doyle raises an eyebrow. “-er,” Xander adds.
“Well, you know, there’s always a place for you in my bed,” Doyle says. His eyes widen. “I mean, on my couch,” he quickly amends. “I mean, you’ve got a place to stay if you need it, okay? In case you’re ousted in the Pest Revolution.”
“Let them eat cake,” Xander says.
By the time Xander arrives home, the palace gates have long since been stormed and what little he remembers of European history suggests he flee while his neck’s still intact. He dials, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear as he crams the best of his worldly possessions into a single duffle bag.
Doyle doesn’t answer.
So much for Plan A.
Since he’s got no Plan B, Xander skips straight to Plan ZZ.
“Believe me,” Xander says as Angel answers the door wearing nothing but water and a towel, “this is my last resort.”
Angel doesn’t so much step aside to let Xander in as stand stock still and stare with a stunned look while Xander and his duffle slip between his dripping body and the doorjamb. The duffle brushes against the towel, dislodging it, and only vampire reflexes keep Xander from seeing the full vampire monty.
And, no, that’s not a sigh of regret. It’s a sigh of relief.
“Good catch,” Xander says, doing his best to mean it. He drops his bag next to the couch. “Got any spare sheets?”
Xander is rummaging through the fridge and wondering if it would kill Angel to actually eat once in a while when Doyle steps out of the elevator.
“Angel, you around?”
Xander steps out from behind the refrigerator door and lets it swing shut. “Hey, Doyle,” he says. “I think he might be in the shower. Wanna go get some breakfast?”
Doyle frowns, shifts his weight, glances in the general direction of the bathroom and back. “Actually, I’m a little short on-”
“Damn it, Xander,” Angel mutters, emerging from the bedroom in silk boxers and matching bathrobe, “I know I did not tell you you could use my toothbrush.”
“Guess he’s not in the shower,” Xander tell Doyle. He turns to Angel. “If I waited for you to tell me I could do things, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?” He turns back to Doyle. “If there’s one thing I learned from my school librarian, it’s that it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.”
Doyle doesn’t answer, just keeps looking back and forth between Xander and Angel. “I can’t believe it. You two…? But you said… I mean, is this one those thin-line-between-love-and-hate type of things? Because I don’t think I-”
“Oh no,” Angel says.
“God no,” Xander seconds. “Thick line.”
Angel nods. “Very thick line.”
“More like a fence,” Xander says. “Or a wall. You know, with barbed wire. And electric current. And attack dogs. It’s just, the cockroaches made their move last night and you weren’t answering your phone, so… Which reminds me, that offer to crash at your place still good?”
Doyle stops meeting Xander’s eyes. “Actually, it’s not really a good time. We’re, um, having some infestations ourselves and-”
“Hey,” Angel says. “What happened to your hand?”
He reaches for it, but Doyle pulls away. “Badminton,” he says.
Angel and Xander exchange a look.
“Hey,” Xander says, looking up from his seat at the kitchen table as Doyle enters the room. “Want some donuts? I convinced Angel to spring for them out of petty cash since it’s pretty much his fault that he doesn’t bother to keep cereal and milk around like a normal person.”
Doyle looks skeptical. “He’s not a person. And he doesn’t eat. He actually fell for that argument?”
“Yeah, totally,” Xander says. “Or possibly he just figured it was worth a few bucks to get me out of the apartment for awhile.” Xander shrugs. “But hey, I figure it’s pretty much win-win. If I’m annoying enough, I’m hoping he’ll send me to the movies this afternoon and the bar later tonight. So, anyway, free donut?”
Doyle steps forward and picks up a maple one with sprinkles. “Thanks. Don’t mind if I-”
“Doyle,” Angel calls, coming down the stairs, “you down here? Oh, there you are. There’s a big guy here to see you. I’ll tell him you’ll be right up.”
“Oh.” Doyle swallows the bite of donut in his mouth without chewing. “That’s great.”
As soon as Angel nods and heads back up the stairs, Doyle tosses the donut toward the table and bolts out the back door. Xander follows him out while Angel cuts him off at the pass.
Doyle skids to a stop, glares back and forth between them. “You know it’s not nice to trick people!”
Angel shows no remorse. “You going to tell us what’s going on?”
“You could have just said something,” Xander says. “That’s what friends are for.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“But you can’t,” Angel says.
“If I just had a little more time…”
“But you don’t,” Xander says.
“Yeah, gee, I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you guys earlier,” Doyle says. “You’re making me feel so much better.”
Xander puts a hand on Doyle’s shoulder. “Possibly the only thing I ever learned from my dad is that admitting you have a problem is the first step. Granted, my dad never took that step…”
“It just takes a little ‘diplomacy,’” Doye says. “You know, the kind Angel’s so good at.” He looks Angel’s way. “Maybe you could…”
“Look,” Angel says, “we all have problems. It’s a matter of priorities. And at the moment I’ve got a bigger one then you do.”
“Bigger than a Kailiff demon?”
“Me,” Xander says.
Angel nods.
“Okay.” Xander clears his throat. “Here’s the situation: Angel needs an apartment without me in it; I need an apartment without roaches in it; and Doyle needs an apartment he can go back to without being killed.”
“Well, I do know a guy…” Doyle says.
Xander claps his hands together. “Great. You find me a new apartment and Angel takes care of the people who are keeping you from going back to yours. Teamwork.”
“And what do you do?” Angel asks.
“I move out,” Xander says.
Angel stands up and grabs his coat. “Deal.”
If there’s one lesson Xander should have learned from both Miss French and Ampata, it’s that if it seems too good to be true, it probably is…
demonic.
So it comes as no surprise that his new pest-free, wildly spacious, well furnished, and rent-controlled apartment also happens to be haunted. Really, he should have assumed it going in.
Of course, the part where it seems to be trying to kill him is a tad inconvenient.
“I mean, if I wanted people trying to kill me in my own home,” he tells Doyle as they head back to the office to start the research, “I could’ve just moved in with you in the first place.”
According to the computer, the big death in Xander’s apartment was an old lady’s heart attack in 1946. The ghost of a little old lady named Maude doesn’t sound so scary to Xander… until she calls him using Angel’s voice, lures him back to the apartment alone, locks him in and starts throwing his body around like a rag doll.
“That’s gonna leave bruises,” Xander says.
“Poor thing,” Maude croons. “You just don’t belong around here, do you? Too bad you wouldn’t leave my son alone.”
“Your son? Whoever you think you’re talking to, lady, it’s not me. My name is Xander and I don’t know your son.”
“You’re right, you don’t know him. He isn’t like you. He had lots of girlfriends before you came along and he’s going to be married. This will never be your home.”
Xander stands up and tries to ignore the various household objects whizzing past his head. “Look, lady, I’m sure it’s hard to give up a sweet apartment in L.A., but you’re dead and I’m not and my friend Angel is highly motivated to keep me in this place.”
“You don’t have any friends,” Maude says.
“Yeah, friend may not be the right word for me and Angel, but we kinda have this dynamic where-”
“Who would be friends with a disgusting thing like you? You may be able to seduce innocent young boys who don’t know any better-”
“Hey - whoa, whoa, whoa!” Xander feels his body slam against the well, breathes through the pain. “Maybe you’re still operating on Forties logic here, but ‘gay’ - or whatever you guys used to call it - does not mean pedophile.
“-but someday they’ll see you for what you really are - sick, dirty. My son would have seen, too. You corrupted him.”
“Okay, I gotta say, if your son ran off with some other guy, it was probably consensual.” Xander really doesn’t like the way the chandelier cable has started snaking toward him. “You know, I think I saw a sign for a PFLAG meeting down the street. They could probably help you with some acceptance.”
“I will never accept you,” Maude says, as the cable loops around his neck. “And neither will anyone else.”
“That’s not true,” Xander croaks, trying to keep his hands between the cord and his neck as it pulls his feet off the ground.
“Oh, come on,” Maude says. “If your so-called friends really accepted the way you are, wouldn’t they be here right now?”
It’s a decent question, Xander thinks, just before he blacks out.
When he comes to, he’s lying on the sofa with Doyle and Angel standing over him.
“Ha!” he coughs. “I told her.” He coughs a couple more times and rolls his eyes, rubbing at his neck. “Leave it to me to snag a homophobic ghost whose least favorite people are young gay men like the one who ‘stole’ her son.”
“No, that’s good,” Angel says.
Xander blinks at him. “Are we working with the same definition of good here?”
“Her son was the one that killed her,” Angel explains.
“And who can blame him?”
“If you’re playing a role in her delusion,” Angel continues, “that gives you power. You’re the one that can stop her.” He turns to Doyle. “Start the binding circle, I’ll find the spell.”
As soon as Angel starts reading, Maude returns with a vengeance.
“They don’t know the real you. They don’t know how dirty you are. If they really knew the sick things that you do, they wouldn’t even come near you,” she whispers as a wind begins to swirl around the room.
The wind picks up, threatening to rip the pages out of the spell book as Doyle and Angel try to keep up the chanting.
Then the thugs arrive.
With guns.
While Angel and Doyle fight to fend them off, Xander finds himself pushed into the bedroom, pinned to the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Look, Maude,” he says. “I’m okay, you’re okay. Okay? You know - except for the part where you’re dead and psychotic.”
“You never should have come here,” she says. “No one wants you here.”
“Hey now, I may have struck out last night, but I’d say I get my fair share of the action.”
“You’ve always known you weren’t right, that you didn’t belong. That’s why you ran away from home.”
“I didn’t run away,” Xander says. “I relocated.” But even as the words come out of his mouth, he can hear the doubt that’s crept in.
Maude presses her advantage, moving closer. “You didn’t want your friends to see what you’ve become.”
“They know what I’ve become,” Xander insists. “I’m out to them. I still talk to them on the phone.”
Maude shakes her head. “They don’t know,” she says. “If they could see you, see the wicked things that you do…”
“They’d be totally fine,” Xander whispers. “They accept me just the way I am.” It sounds like a cliché.
Her face just inches from his, Maude’s voice turns sourly sweet. “Then why are you hiding from them?”
For a moment, Xander doesn’t answer.
“I’m not hiding,” he finally shouts. “I mean, fine, you’re right, I didn’t want Willow to visit. And, no, it wasn’t just because of the old apartment,” he admits, pushing himself up off the floor and standing at full height. “I mean, it just felt like it was too soon. I miss her and everything, but there was this me in Sunnydale and now there’s this Los Angeles me, and they’re probably the same me, I guess, but they feel kind of different. And maybe I thought Willow wouldn’t be able to handle that. Or maybe I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle that. But you know what? I was wrong. I was wrong and you’re wrong and Willow and Buffy are real friends, and as soon as my other real friends help me send your ass to hell where it belongs, I’m going to invite my old friends for a visit to my sweet new Los Angeles apartment. And, yeah, Buffy’s probably not going to come because she’s afraid to see Angel, but I get that. And someday when they’re both a little more over the tragic loss of their forever-love, we’ll hang again. And it’ll be good. Because once a Scooby, always a Scooby. And I don’t even care that you have no idea what that means. So there.”
A flash of light floods the room as Maude is hurled backwards through the wall.
“Man, I’m exhausted.”
Doyle nods. “That was a lot of work for a couple of apartments.”
“On the bright side,” Xander says. “Free therapy. I had no idea that was why I was so worried about Willow visiting, but I feel a lot better about it now.”
Doyle shakes his head. “I still can’t believe she closed her gay son into a wall.”
“No shit. I’m pretty sure my parents would have stuck with just kicking me out of the house. A lot less manual labor that way.”
“True,” Doyle says. “True.”
Part Six: "Sense and Sensitivity"
Title: So Crazy it Just Might Work
Chapter: Five - "Rm w/ a Vu"
Pairing: Angel, Xander, Doyle (Spike/Xander later on)
Rating: Mature
Disclaimer: Probably not what Joss envisioned. Some bits of dialogue have been stolen from AtS s1 "Rm w/ a Vu"
Thanks: To reremouse and cordelianne for their support.
Summary: A slashier version of the first season of AtS in which Angel teams up with Xander instead of Cordelia (but not in a sexual way).
Part One: "City Of..."
Part Two: "Lonely Hearts"
Part Three: "In the Dark"
Part Four: "I Fall to Pieces"
Xander flashes Doyle his best smile. “So maybe we could grab some coffee somewhere and you could tell me more about growing up overseas. And after that, we could go back to your place and, you know…” Xander lowers his voice, forcing Doyle to lean closer, “work out our cultural differences.”
Doyle nods slowly, then takes a step back. “Oh yeah,” he says, “I totally would have slept with you.”
Xander shakes his head and sighs. “He thought I was being fake. Which I totally wasn’t, by the way.”
Doyle pats Xander on the shoulder. “Yeah, well, he doesn’t know what he’s missing.”
“Thanks. I’m telling you, I’d have listened to him talk about his childhood all night. I mean, the second I heard that accent, I-” The phone rings. “So anyway, then he ends up leaving with this guy, Todd. I mean, talk about fake - Todd runs more lines than AT&T.”
“Speaking of which…” Doyle tilts his head in the direction of the still-ringing phone.
“Oh, right.” Xander lunges toward the desk and gets the call just before the answering machine. “Xangel Investigations - we help the hopeless.”
“Angel,” Angel calls from the other room.
“Not a chance,” Xander calls back. “Sorry,” he says into the phone. “How can I-? Oh, hey, Will! … Xangel…. X-A-N-G-E-L…. You know, it’s like brunch or spork…. Our names…. I told you, Will, my sidekick days are over…. Well, yeah, sure, he handles most of the heavy killing, but I have my own essential functions…. Well, um, there’s the- You know, enough about me. How’s Sunnydale?.... Cool. And college life? … Good, good. And the demons? … Aren’t they always? … And how’s She-Who-Must-Not-Be-Named? … Well, not around here, she musn’t….”
“I can hear you,” Angel calls.
Xander puts his hand over the phone. “Can you hear Willow?” he calls back.
“No.”
“Okay, then.” Xander speaks into the phone again. “Just because I’m not allowed to, doesn’t mean you can’t. I want all the dirt…. Really? That sucks…. Oh man, guys can be such dicks…. No, see, that’s one of the special membership benefits of Club Gay - I get to say things like that and really mean them…. Oh, pretty good. I seem to be getting the hang of it…. I would not use the word special, no. Or the word seeing…. Yes, I would use the word anybody, or at least anybodies. There have been bodies. My bodies, their bodies. Body-to-body- … Yeah, okay, TMI…. You know, that sounds totally great except that things are kinda busy around here lately, so maybe we could put it off for a while…. Yeah, in fact, it’s kinda busy here right now and-” he looks up at Doyle who’s standing with his hands in his pockets “-Doyle is totally waving at me and-” he glances over at Angel who’s leaning against the desk in the next room polishing a sword “-Angel is trying to tell me something and-” he runs a finger over the single solid red light on the phone “-there are like two calls coming in on the other lines, and I’ve got to answer them, so I’ll talk to you later, okay? … Bye!”
Xander sets the receiver back in the cradle as Doyle eyes him askance.
Xander shrugs. “I don’t know. It’s just, she was talking about coming to visit and, I mean, you’ve seen my apartment - it’s a hellhole. And not even a big, under-the-school-library kind of hellhole. We’re talking under-the-school-broom-closet here.” Xander thinks about it for a second. “You know, no. I spent some time in the school broom closets, and a couple of them were actually bigger than my place. Not exactly guest material.”
“True,” Doyle says.
“Plus? I’ve been watching and I’m pretty sure the rival cockroach gangs are about to unite and stage a coup. Could get nasty.” Doyle raises an eyebrow. “-er,” Xander adds.
“Well, you know, there’s always a place for you in my bed,” Doyle says. His eyes widen. “I mean, on my couch,” he quickly amends. “I mean, you’ve got a place to stay if you need it, okay? In case you’re ousted in the Pest Revolution.”
“Let them eat cake,” Xander says.
By the time Xander arrives home, the palace gates have long since been stormed and what little he remembers of European history suggests he flee while his neck’s still intact. He dials, cradling the phone between shoulder and ear as he crams the best of his worldly possessions into a single duffle bag.
Doyle doesn’t answer.
So much for Plan A.
Since he’s got no Plan B, Xander skips straight to Plan ZZ.
“Believe me,” Xander says as Angel answers the door wearing nothing but water and a towel, “this is my last resort.”
Angel doesn’t so much step aside to let Xander in as stand stock still and stare with a stunned look while Xander and his duffle slip between his dripping body and the doorjamb. The duffle brushes against the towel, dislodging it, and only vampire reflexes keep Xander from seeing the full vampire monty.
And, no, that’s not a sigh of regret. It’s a sigh of relief.
“Good catch,” Xander says, doing his best to mean it. He drops his bag next to the couch. “Got any spare sheets?”
Xander is rummaging through the fridge and wondering if it would kill Angel to actually eat once in a while when Doyle steps out of the elevator.
“Angel, you around?”
Xander steps out from behind the refrigerator door and lets it swing shut. “Hey, Doyle,” he says. “I think he might be in the shower. Wanna go get some breakfast?”
Doyle frowns, shifts his weight, glances in the general direction of the bathroom and back. “Actually, I’m a little short on-”
“Damn it, Xander,” Angel mutters, emerging from the bedroom in silk boxers and matching bathrobe, “I know I did not tell you you could use my toothbrush.”
“Guess he’s not in the shower,” Xander tell Doyle. He turns to Angel. “If I waited for you to tell me I could do things, I wouldn’t be here right now, would I?” He turns back to Doyle. “If there’s one thing I learned from my school librarian, it’s that it’s easier to get forgiveness than permission.”
Doyle doesn’t answer, just keeps looking back and forth between Xander and Angel. “I can’t believe it. You two…? But you said… I mean, is this one those thin-line-between-love-and-hate type of things? Because I don’t think I-”
“Oh no,” Angel says.
“God no,” Xander seconds. “Thick line.”
Angel nods. “Very thick line.”
“More like a fence,” Xander says. “Or a wall. You know, with barbed wire. And electric current. And attack dogs. It’s just, the cockroaches made their move last night and you weren’t answering your phone, so… Which reminds me, that offer to crash at your place still good?”
Doyle stops meeting Xander’s eyes. “Actually, it’s not really a good time. We’re, um, having some infestations ourselves and-”
“Hey,” Angel says. “What happened to your hand?”
He reaches for it, but Doyle pulls away. “Badminton,” he says.
Angel and Xander exchange a look.
“Hey,” Xander says, looking up from his seat at the kitchen table as Doyle enters the room. “Want some donuts? I convinced Angel to spring for them out of petty cash since it’s pretty much his fault that he doesn’t bother to keep cereal and milk around like a normal person.”
Doyle looks skeptical. “He’s not a person. And he doesn’t eat. He actually fell for that argument?”
“Yeah, totally,” Xander says. “Or possibly he just figured it was worth a few bucks to get me out of the apartment for awhile.” Xander shrugs. “But hey, I figure it’s pretty much win-win. If I’m annoying enough, I’m hoping he’ll send me to the movies this afternoon and the bar later tonight. So, anyway, free donut?”
Doyle steps forward and picks up a maple one with sprinkles. “Thanks. Don’t mind if I-”
“Doyle,” Angel calls, coming down the stairs, “you down here? Oh, there you are. There’s a big guy here to see you. I’ll tell him you’ll be right up.”
“Oh.” Doyle swallows the bite of donut in his mouth without chewing. “That’s great.”
As soon as Angel nods and heads back up the stairs, Doyle tosses the donut toward the table and bolts out the back door. Xander follows him out while Angel cuts him off at the pass.
Doyle skids to a stop, glares back and forth between them. “You know it’s not nice to trick people!”
Angel shows no remorse. “You going to tell us what’s going on?”
“You could have just said something,” Xander says. “That’s what friends are for.”
“I thought I could handle it.”
“But you can’t,” Angel says.
“If I just had a little more time…”
“But you don’t,” Xander says.
“Yeah, gee, I don’t know why I didn’t talk to you guys earlier,” Doyle says. “You’re making me feel so much better.”
Xander puts a hand on Doyle’s shoulder. “Possibly the only thing I ever learned from my dad is that admitting you have a problem is the first step. Granted, my dad never took that step…”
“It just takes a little ‘diplomacy,’” Doye says. “You know, the kind Angel’s so good at.” He looks Angel’s way. “Maybe you could…”
“Look,” Angel says, “we all have problems. It’s a matter of priorities. And at the moment I’ve got a bigger one then you do.”
“Bigger than a Kailiff demon?”
“Me,” Xander says.
Angel nods.
“Okay.” Xander clears his throat. “Here’s the situation: Angel needs an apartment without me in it; I need an apartment without roaches in it; and Doyle needs an apartment he can go back to without being killed.”
“Well, I do know a guy…” Doyle says.
Xander claps his hands together. “Great. You find me a new apartment and Angel takes care of the people who are keeping you from going back to yours. Teamwork.”
“And what do you do?” Angel asks.
“I move out,” Xander says.
Angel stands up and grabs his coat. “Deal.”
If there’s one lesson Xander should have learned from both Miss French and Ampata, it’s that if it seems too good to be true, it probably is…
demonic.
So it comes as no surprise that his new pest-free, wildly spacious, well furnished, and rent-controlled apartment also happens to be haunted. Really, he should have assumed it going in.
Of course, the part where it seems to be trying to kill him is a tad inconvenient.
“I mean, if I wanted people trying to kill me in my own home,” he tells Doyle as they head back to the office to start the research, “I could’ve just moved in with you in the first place.”
According to the computer, the big death in Xander’s apartment was an old lady’s heart attack in 1946. The ghost of a little old lady named Maude doesn’t sound so scary to Xander… until she calls him using Angel’s voice, lures him back to the apartment alone, locks him in and starts throwing his body around like a rag doll.
“That’s gonna leave bruises,” Xander says.
“Poor thing,” Maude croons. “You just don’t belong around here, do you? Too bad you wouldn’t leave my son alone.”
“Your son? Whoever you think you’re talking to, lady, it’s not me. My name is Xander and I don’t know your son.”
“You’re right, you don’t know him. He isn’t like you. He had lots of girlfriends before you came along and he’s going to be married. This will never be your home.”
Xander stands up and tries to ignore the various household objects whizzing past his head. “Look, lady, I’m sure it’s hard to give up a sweet apartment in L.A., but you’re dead and I’m not and my friend Angel is highly motivated to keep me in this place.”
“You don’t have any friends,” Maude says.
“Yeah, friend may not be the right word for me and Angel, but we kinda have this dynamic where-”
“Who would be friends with a disgusting thing like you? You may be able to seduce innocent young boys who don’t know any better-”
“Hey - whoa, whoa, whoa!” Xander feels his body slam against the well, breathes through the pain. “Maybe you’re still operating on Forties logic here, but ‘gay’ - or whatever you guys used to call it - does not mean pedophile.
“-but someday they’ll see you for what you really are - sick, dirty. My son would have seen, too. You corrupted him.”
“Okay, I gotta say, if your son ran off with some other guy, it was probably consensual.” Xander really doesn’t like the way the chandelier cable has started snaking toward him. “You know, I think I saw a sign for a PFLAG meeting down the street. They could probably help you with some acceptance.”
“I will never accept you,” Maude says, as the cable loops around his neck. “And neither will anyone else.”
“That’s not true,” Xander croaks, trying to keep his hands between the cord and his neck as it pulls his feet off the ground.
“Oh, come on,” Maude says. “If your so-called friends really accepted the way you are, wouldn’t they be here right now?”
It’s a decent question, Xander thinks, just before he blacks out.
When he comes to, he’s lying on the sofa with Doyle and Angel standing over him.
“Ha!” he coughs. “I told her.” He coughs a couple more times and rolls his eyes, rubbing at his neck. “Leave it to me to snag a homophobic ghost whose least favorite people are young gay men like the one who ‘stole’ her son.”
“No, that’s good,” Angel says.
Xander blinks at him. “Are we working with the same definition of good here?”
“Her son was the one that killed her,” Angel explains.
“And who can blame him?”
“If you’re playing a role in her delusion,” Angel continues, “that gives you power. You’re the one that can stop her.” He turns to Doyle. “Start the binding circle, I’ll find the spell.”
As soon as Angel starts reading, Maude returns with a vengeance.
“They don’t know the real you. They don’t know how dirty you are. If they really knew the sick things that you do, they wouldn’t even come near you,” she whispers as a wind begins to swirl around the room.
The wind picks up, threatening to rip the pages out of the spell book as Doyle and Angel try to keep up the chanting.
Then the thugs arrive.
With guns.
While Angel and Doyle fight to fend them off, Xander finds himself pushed into the bedroom, pinned to the floor at the foot of the bed.
“Look, Maude,” he says. “I’m okay, you’re okay. Okay? You know - except for the part where you’re dead and psychotic.”
“You never should have come here,” she says. “No one wants you here.”
“Hey now, I may have struck out last night, but I’d say I get my fair share of the action.”
“You’ve always known you weren’t right, that you didn’t belong. That’s why you ran away from home.”
“I didn’t run away,” Xander says. “I relocated.” But even as the words come out of his mouth, he can hear the doubt that’s crept in.
Maude presses her advantage, moving closer. “You didn’t want your friends to see what you’ve become.”
“They know what I’ve become,” Xander insists. “I’m out to them. I still talk to them on the phone.”
Maude shakes her head. “They don’t know,” she says. “If they could see you, see the wicked things that you do…”
“They’d be totally fine,” Xander whispers. “They accept me just the way I am.” It sounds like a cliché.
Her face just inches from his, Maude’s voice turns sourly sweet. “Then why are you hiding from them?”
For a moment, Xander doesn’t answer.
“I’m not hiding,” he finally shouts. “I mean, fine, you’re right, I didn’t want Willow to visit. And, no, it wasn’t just because of the old apartment,” he admits, pushing himself up off the floor and standing at full height. “I mean, it just felt like it was too soon. I miss her and everything, but there was this me in Sunnydale and now there’s this Los Angeles me, and they’re probably the same me, I guess, but they feel kind of different. And maybe I thought Willow wouldn’t be able to handle that. Or maybe I thought I wouldn’t be able to handle that. But you know what? I was wrong. I was wrong and you’re wrong and Willow and Buffy are real friends, and as soon as my other real friends help me send your ass to hell where it belongs, I’m going to invite my old friends for a visit to my sweet new Los Angeles apartment. And, yeah, Buffy’s probably not going to come because she’s afraid to see Angel, but I get that. And someday when they’re both a little more over the tragic loss of their forever-love, we’ll hang again. And it’ll be good. Because once a Scooby, always a Scooby. And I don’t even care that you have no idea what that means. So there.”
A flash of light floods the room as Maude is hurled backwards through the wall.
“Man, I’m exhausted.”
Doyle nods. “That was a lot of work for a couple of apartments.”
“On the bright side,” Xander says. “Free therapy. I had no idea that was why I was so worried about Willow visiting, but I feel a lot better about it now.”
Doyle shakes his head. “I still can’t believe she closed her gay son into a wall.”
“No shit. I’m pretty sure my parents would have stuck with just kicking me out of the house. A lot less manual labor that way.”
“True,” Doyle says. “True.”
Part Six: "Sense and Sensitivity"