bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
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Period Of Adjustment

PERIOD OF ADJUSTMENT
25/40
Author: BmblBee
Paring: What else? S/X of course.
Rating: Adult for language and M/M activity.
Disclaimer: None of the characters in this story belong to the Bee.
and she makes no money off them, or anything else. The Bee is broke.
Summary: The Rosebud Murders took an emotional toll on
everyone involved. Is love enough for a happily ever after or does
it take a hell of a lot of work and compromise to build a life together?
Spike and Xander struggle to find out.




Thanks to Petxnd for the lovely banner


BANG BANG BANG BANG!!

Xander tried to roll to his side only to be stopped by the high, firm
back of the sofa he had fallen asleep on. Even after the long,
exhaustive night of work out in the carriage house, Xander still
couldn't bring himself to climb the stairs and slip between the cool
clean sheets he had lovingly prepared for their first night together in the
mansion.

He had chosen, instead to curl up on the padded, firm, drawing room
couch. He counted heavily on being tired and depressed enough
to be able to ignore the rows of dimpled buttons that poked his
cramped body in the most inconvenient places.

Scooting his butt around, he pulled his knees up the best he could
and closed his eyes. He didn't know what time it was and really didn't
care. The message he had left for Patrick was that the pieces were
done and could be picked up, later, after he got some sleep.
It was clearly a "Do not disturb" call.

BANG BANG BANG BANG!!!

Xander's eyes flew open when he realized what had wakened him.
THE DOOR! Someone was at the door. His heart and it's hope
lurched in his body and he jumped to his feet, tripping over the
saw dust covered work shoes that he had left next to the coffee table.

His hair was wild, spittle had dried on his left cheek and his eyes were
still unable to clearly focus, but none of that mattered. All he knew
was that Spike had come back home. Spike still loved him.
Spike was about to get a shoe so far up his ass he would be snorting
wood chips out his sarcastic nose.

Xander hurried into the foyer, his socked feet sliding across the smooth
tiled floor as he skid to a stop, clutching quickly for the solid door knob.
He was so relieved he could barely breath.

Jerking the door wide open, Xander's eyes dialated rapidly in the
shock of bright sunlight causing him to stagger backwards, squinting
and blinking.

"Spike?"

"No, sorry, Xan, it's us. We were all so worried about you that we called
the Circle to gather to show our love and infuse you with our energy.
You weren't still sleeping were you? Gosh, lazybones, it is almost noon."

Willow and Tara had rushed in, both girls throwing their arms around
Xander, one on each side. He held them tightly, wanting to be annoyed
at the intrusion but their small, cool bodies smelled so sweet, so earthy
and pure that it brought him an enormous comfort.

He lowered his head and let their hair cover his face, breathing in the
combined fragrance of innocence and violet shampoo. He closed
his eyes and allowed himself to be filled with the emotions they
emitted for him. His sleepy eyes burned with unshed tears.

As soon as they released him, they headed for the dining room to begin
arranging the candles they had brought, Andrew stepped in next.
He, too, threw himself into Xander's embrace and snuggled in as close
as possible whispering into the larger man's ear.

"Ya know, Xan, sometimes what we think we want to want isn't really
what we want at all. We don't always want to want what we want, but
I want you to know I'm here for you and if you want me too I want to too."

"Shut up, Andrew."

"O.k." Andrew immediately released his grip on Xander and, with a grin,
hustled off to follow where the girls had gone.

"Schnitzel!"

Xander jumped and spun around to find Gunilla and her husband standing
in the threshold. With an unquestioning authority she shoved her companion
forward and handed Xander a large plate of spicy smelling promise
before marching off toward where the other three were busily arranging
the room to suit.

Xander considered asking them to leave, explaining that he was tired and just
wanted to be alone but two things stopped him. First was that it really was a
soothing influence having them here and second was that the food smelled
absolutly divine and he was hungry enough to eat the corn kernels from
a field fresh cow chip.

Xander breathed in, deeply filling his sinuses with the glorious odor of the
spicy wiener schnitzel, and trotted off to join the others.
Pausing in the dining room doorway he looked over the sight before him.
He tried to see things impassionatly, as if he were an outsider, a critic.

He tried to evaluate the people who had never, for a second, considered
that they would not be welcomed as they fussed around, each knowing
instinctively what was expected of them, and working together like a well
oiled machine.

Xander tried to see these people as freaks, as circus clowns, but his
heart wouldn't allow his eyes to distort the image.
It was certainly true that as individuals they couldn't have been more
different, and any bystander on the street would have a hard time
imagining what they could have in common, but Xander knew.

They were family.
And what family wasn't seeped in diversity?
Most importantly, they were his family and he would never turn his
back on their love and support.
If Spike couldn't accept them, Xander couldn't accept Spike.

The drapes in the room had been drawn giving the room a dim, late
afternoon feel belying the fact that it was an exceptionally bright sunny
California day.
The five of them had lit several candles in the center of the table and the
shadows from the flames cast odd forms and shapes to dance on the
surfaces of the walls.

The different candles were selected carefully and placed in an order
that had been given great consideration.
A black one to absorb the negative energy, cleaning it from the air.
A white one for love, for togetherness, for hope. A charged positive
energy to fill the house and all the occupants in it.
A purple one for passion. This one caused him to smile. He should have
been embarrassed but he knew their desires for him came straight from
their hearts.
A green one for unity. The Circle stood together. When one hurt,
they all hurt.

As Xander stepped in to the room all the faces turned in his direction
and smiled.
Even Gunilla.
Not an attractive sight.

Everyone stood in a circle and joined hands. Willow and Gunilla's
husband held out a free hand and waited while Xander came forward.
He set down the plate and quickly reached for the love that extended
itself to him.
When the circle was complete, the six closed their eyes and began
chanting.

As the time, the minutes and the words flowed by, Xander could
actually feel the strain, the stress and the unhappiness float up
through his body and out the top of his head like a helium filled
balloon.

He closed down the rational, advanced part of his brain and slipped
easily into the lobe that functioned on an instincual basis.
His empathic ability focused and told him that despite all the things
that had happened, he was still loved. Not just by the group now
consoling him, but by Spike as well.

Xander was greatly relieved. He knew it wasn't too late. He didn't
know how yet but he and Spike.......

"Paper!! Quickly, vee need za pen and za paper!"

Xander felt the hand gripping his tighten and jerk. Opening
his eyes he found Gunilla swaying on her feet, deep in a trance,
her hand already swirling in an attempt to write.

The others eased her into the chair and quickly slipped the pen into
her fat little fingers. Immediately she filled the paper with circles, doodles,
meaningless scribbles. No one was deterred. Patiently they waited.

When the first page was filled, Tara ripped it from the yellow pad, tossing
the sheet to the floor and they continued to watch.
Gradually the speed and random jerking of her hand slowed and took
on a more purposful direction. When that page was covered, with no
clean spot left, Gunilla's arm dropped to her side and she slumped back
in her chair with a grunt.

Her husband rushed to tend to her, lovingly pat her hand and coo gently
as she came around. The other's attention turned to the page
curious to see what she had written.

Stumped, they looked back and forth between themselves to see if
there was any comprehension of what they saw. There wasn't.
Not one person in the room, including Gunilla, knew what
"Greene Turtle" meant but it had been scrawled no less than 50 times.

"Well then." Xander said easily.
"How about I get some plates and forks. We might as well have a
bite to eat while we figure this out."
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