by Rob Sorenson

Xander sighed heavily, unsure how to begin.

"Ok, I should let you know in advance that this is going to sound a lot worse than it actually is. I didn't say anything to you because it might upset you more than it should."

Faith bit back an acid response, forcing herself to simply nod with no visible expression. Xander cleared his throat nervously.

"A couple of months ago I started having some problems with my equilibrium. I thought maybe I had a cold or something at the time, but it didn't seem to go away. I'd be fine when I was on the ground...but for whatever reason heights would totally mess me up every once in a while. That's the really frustrating part: I never know when I'm going to feel all nauseous and dizzy."

He hesitated, trying to gauge some sort of response, but Faith just quietly waited. Xander sighed before continuing.

"I ignored it the first couple of times - like I said, I figured it was just a cold - but then I was walking a girder about ten stories up one day with Julio, our site foreman. Three or four times a week I'd run up there and take a look around. You know, supervisory quality control type stuff. Everything was cool...then all of a sudden everything got all hazy. In my job we're always told not to look down, but for me it was never a big deal. I actually loved the view before..."

He trailed off, breaking eye contact with his wife for the first time. Faith swallowed hard.

"You...you fell?"

Xander didn't meet her eyes, but the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly.

"No, honey. If I'd fallen, I wouldn't be here talking to you right now."

That earned a moment of silence.

"So...what happened?"

"Julio pretty much saved my life. Grabbed my arm and held me steady for a minute. Then I was in good enough shape to get over to the lift and back to ground level."

He sat up in his chair, speaking earnestly. "The funny thing is, most people who have a fear of heights can never go up there. I mean, ever. Yet ninety percent of the time I'm fine. Walking around with no problems, just like always. Every once in a while, though, everything starts to get a little hazy."

"Wait a minute. Are you still going up there?"

Again he sighed. "I tried once more, yeah."

"Are you out of your fucking mind?!"

"Faith-"

She stood abruptly. "I cannot believe you! You almost fall ten stories and just say 'no big, let's go back up again.' That is the stupidest goddamn thing I've ever heard."

"Suddenly starting to remember why I didn't want to tell you about this."

She began to pace the room, shaking her head.

"I cannot believe you," she said again.

"I really didn't want to hear a lecture tonight."

Faith spun to face him. "Oh, you didn't, huh? I'm so sorry. From now on when you tell me how you nearly died I'll do my best to take it easy. Jesus Christ, Xand, what do you want from me?"

"A little understanding wouldn't hurt," Xander said, instantly regretting the words as they came out. The hurt on his wife's face was plain to see.

"That's not fair. You've been lying to me for two months-"

"I haven't been lying to you."

"Really? How many times have I asked you what's been goin' on?"

He shrugged uncomfortably.

"Come on, Xand. How many?"

"I don't know, all right?"

"Yeah, I don't know either. I can't count that friggin' high. We'll round it off at a thousand. I've asked you a thousand times what's bothering you and every single time you said nothing. If that's not lying to me, what is it?"

"I told you part of it the other night."

"You didn't tell me anything."

"I didn't want to upset you."

"I'm not a kid. Stop treating me like one."

He exhaled sharply. "Ok, I guess I should have said someth-"

"You guess? You guess?!"

"Look, I didn't see how it would do you any good to know."

Faith spread her hands wide. "It's not about doing me any good, you idiot! It's about letting me help you!"

Xander stood, speaking in a soft, quavering tone.

"How exactly do you plan on doing that? Huh? You going to tell me it'll be all better soon? Because that's not gonna happen."

"Xander-"

"Or maybe you could've come to L.A. with me. Oh, wait. You won't do that."

Faith's eyes flashed in surprised anger. "That is such bullshit. We talked on the phone every night."

Xander went on as if she hadn't spoken.

"This work is all I know. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I'm not particularly good at anything else. I build stuff, honey. That's what I was born to do. If I can't do my job properly..."

He trailed off, shaking his head. Neither spoke for over a minute.

"You've been to the doctor." A statement more than a question.

Xander nodded. "In L.A., yeah."

Faith tilted her head toward him, bobbing it back and forth expectantly. "And they said..."

He responded tonelessly. "Short version? My central nervous system appears to have some problems. They're not sure why...this type of condition is apparently tough to get a handle on."

"What type is that?"

He shrugged. "Nerves going all wacky. Involuntary muscle spasms. That kinda stuff. Honestly, I think they have no idea...which is probably because I didn't tell them mine."

One would think Xander had been associated with Slayers long enough to remember a common trait among them: patience was not a strong suit. His wife closed her eyes, slowly counting to ten before speaking.

"And your idea is?"

"They said my symptoms were similar to someone who's suffered a fairly severe electrical injury. I'm guessing a few too many pokes from a glorified cattle prod qualifies."

Again silence fell between them; Faith spent nearly a full minute getting her emotions in check before speaking as evenly as she could.

"Ok, I assume there's nothing they can give you for something like this?"

"They haven't even diagnosed it. How can they treat it?"

"Red has no idea what's wrong with you." Another question posed as a statement...but she knew her husband well enough to anticipate his answer.

"No."

"Why all the extra hours? Stressin' yourself out?"

"I don't know. Trying to compensate, I guess."

"Ok. I want a straight answer here. Are you still trying to go up?"

There was a pause. "Can't seem to get myself on the lift any more."

Her voice was gentle. "You're scared to?"

A nod.

Faith folded her arms. "I've met Julio, you know. You brought a bunch of guys from the crew over for dinner one night. You forget about that?"

Xander shrugged. Faith shook her head at him sadly.

"Spent a few hours with 'em. They think the world of you, Xand. I'd be willing to bet a thousand bucks they don't give a sweet shit whether or not you can deal with heights any more. You trust 'em?"

"They're the best in the world." He said it almost as a reflex.

"So you've told me a million times. Is there anything you do up there that Julio can't?"

Xander was quiet. Faith nodded.

"That's what I thought." She turned toward the door. "I gotta go lock up for the night."

Faith began to leave, then stopped. She spoke once more with her back to him.

"I understand you didn't wanna hurt me, Xander. Thing is, it hurts a lot more that you didn't tell me."

"Faith-"

"You didn't even give me a chance to say I'll always believe in you, no matter what happens. Instead, you pushed yourself away from everybody, makin' 'em worry about you all the time. I'd like to think everyone could've helped you some...especially me."

She repeated herself as she walked out the door.

"You didn't even give me a chance."

******************************************

Spike rose to his feet abruptly, leaving Drusilla lying on the bench alone.

"What do you want?"

She laughed with delight.

"Such a silly question, dear Spike. What does a girl want, anyway? A girl wants flowers and music. She wants to brush her dollies' hair. She'd truly enjoy a young man to eat."

Dru turned around, now facing him on her hands and knees.

"Most of all, she wants her Goldilocks to taste her porridge again. Do you remember it, Spike?"

He said nothing, merely watching her. Drusilla leered, again changing positions so that she lay on her back, legs slightly parted.

"It's just right...but you always made it feel hot. Sizzle! Sizzle!"

He bit his lip, moving slowly toward her. "Is that all you want, then? Has it been so long you've forgotten everything else I can do to you?"

Her eyes widened in surprise. "Why, yes. Do remind me, kind sir."

Spike stood over her prone body. "I can make you scream in pain for days. Beg all you want, luv. The Big Bad'll just want to hurt you worse."

Dru moaned, closing her eyes. "More. Please."

He inhaled sharply, morphing into his vamp face. "Someone's been eating my porridge."

**********Los Angeles***************

Charles Gunn had spent a long day in the sewers. Bad enough I gotta run around chasing the stinkiest demon known to man. Would a decent meal be too much to ask?

He hated Roscoe’s Chicken and Waffles with a passion…but when he’d made the offer to the crew to treat them to dinner wherever they wanted, this had been the choice. Gunn hadn’t known whether to laugh or cry, but he wasn’t about to let them know that.

As he picked through his entrée with barely disguised distaste, Gunn decided to take the shot.

- End Chapter Eight -