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I'm back! Told you I hadn't given up on this; real life has just majorly sucked and has been way busy the past, um, 6 months. But I'm done with school now, so I have tons more free time to devote to writing. So please please please give me another chance :)
Title: Learn to be Lonely Chapter 19/?
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chocgood84
Rating: NC-17 for brief violence and sexual content
Pairing: BtVS Spike/Xander
Author’s Note: Yes, I am aware that the timeline is a little screwed up and that Giles didn’t own the Magic Box until after Adam and after Dawn arrived. But in my reality, who’s Dawn? Adam what? Also, a huge spanking thanks tokitty_poker1 for being my official L2BL beta.
Disclaimer: These character’s aren’t mine, never were; I don’t get any profit for this hobby, so don’t sue – Thanks.
Warning: Brief violence, nudity, and hetero and homo sexual content and situations. And some h0t man-luvin.
This can also be found in my LJ Memories, as well as on my website.
“Can you believe Thanksgiving is two days?” Xander shouted over an electronic Cher ballad. “Two days! Where did this year go?”
“Hell if I know!” Tuna yelled back, handing a beer to the customer waiting at the service area. “I haven’t looked at the calendar since I dated that time-shifting demon a few years ago.”
“Sounds like a story there, mate,” Spike prodded, smirking as he swallowed the rest of his scotch. “Can’t say as I blame you, though. ‘S not like you and I really need to keep track of time.”
“Huh?” Xander puzzled, looking at Tuna. “Oh, you’re immortal, too?”
“Uh--” Tuna thought for a moment as he shook a martini, poured it, and handed it off to a cocktailing Mrk’m’sh demon wearing a Cher wig and pink sequined dress. “Let’s just say I won’t have to plan my funeral anytime soon.”
“Oh, well, cool,” Xander smiled. He turned in his bar stool to survey the room. Every Cher video, concert, and album had exploded within Serpent tonight. There were tall Chers and short Chers, blonde Chers and brunettes, old ones, new ones, and every spectrum in between. There were even a few misplaced Sonnys wandering around. Ha, Xander chuckled. Cher Night. At least they won’t run out of gay music.
Despite the fact that Spike and Xander hadn’t been out together for a few weeks, they had decided to stay off the dance floor for the evening, lest they break out into a rendition of the Shoop Shoop Song.
“So, you’re sure you don’t want to come to Buffy’s with me on Wednesday?” Xander joked, glancing at Spike.
“There’s not enough blood, alcohol, or cigs in the bloody verse, pet. Last year was quite enough Scooby Thanksgiving for me, ta ever so,” he grimaced.
“Sounds like there’s a story there, chum,” Tuna laughed, wriggling his eyebrows at Spike.
“Too long to tell,” Xander interjected, trying to steer the conversation away from angry spirits and nasty sicknesses. “So, uh…what are you doing Wednesday, Tuna?”
“Nothing,” he answered, tapping out a cigarette from Spike’s pack and lighting it, visibly quivering as the sensation overtook him. “So, what happened last year?”
“Nothing!” Xander squeaked. “I mean, nothing, huh? No one to spend it with?”
“The whelp here,” Spike put his arm around Xander’s shoulder, “woke up some evil Indian spirits who made him sick as all hell, then crashed the party. Was nearly dusted, myself, what with that bleeding rope.” Spike rolled his eyes. “But, as per usual, the slayer fought the baddies, kinda won, and then gorged herself on poultry and cornbread. All in all, it was a horrible day.”
“There, see, that wasn’t such a long story,” Tuna reprimanded.
“Yeah, okay, but you weren’t the one with smallpox, syphilis, and who the hell knows what else.”
“Damn, queen, who have you been tricking with?” a lanky John Mayer look alike snarked as he swayed by them.
“Bitter!” Tuna called after him, and turned back to Xander. “So, how do you know the same thing won’t happen again this year?”
“Well, the good news is that we’ve rarely had to fight the same thing or things more than once,” Xander beamed. Hey, he thought. I deserve to be at least a little proud. “The bad news is that there’s always something else.”
“So why don’t you take a holiday off?” Tuna asked.
Xander glanced over to Spike, who looked just as interested in the answer as Tuna was.
“Well, uh,” he stammered. “I already promised I’d be there. We kind of has this falling out about me not being around so much anymore.”
“Say it, love,” Spike urged him. “They set up a trap and you walked right into it.”
“Okay, that might be true,” Xander conceded. “But Willow’s just now starting to speak to me again. I don’t think I should break any promises to her right now. Unless you want to be dating a puddle of melted flesh?”
“Bint,” Spike muttered, just loudly enough so that Xander would hear him. For now, he chose to ignore it. It wasn’t like Willow was intentionally trying to cause trouble. She was just worried about him. Sure, she could be selfish under the right circumstances, but she really was trying to help. Wasn’t she?
“Anyway,” Xander scowled at Spike, “what else is there to do?”
“Why don’t you have your own dinner?” Tuna asked, glaring at the DJ booth as Believe started thumping out of the sound system.
Xander looked at Spike, who shrugged his response.
“That’s not a bad idea. Except that I don’t really have any way of cooking a Thanksgiving dinner.”
“So?” Tuna asked. “Who says you have to have homemade turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes? Why not have an alternative dinner? You’re definitely an alternative couple,” he laughed.
“And I don’t have to be at Buffy’s till late, so we could do our own thing earlier in the day,” Xander smiled. This was turning into a good idea. “What are you doing Wednesday afternoon?”
“Me?” Tuna shrugged. “I didn’t mean to invite myself –”
“You didn’t. I’m inviting you over. We are inviting you over. Don’t spend Thanksgiving alone,” Xander urged.
Tuna glanced in Spike’s direction, who nodded. “What better have you got to do?”
“Alright, fine,” Tuna smiled. “It’s a date. I’ll bring the Kung Po Chicken.”
“Great,” Xander exclaimed.
“Great,” Tuna laughed.
“Great,” Spike mumbled.
***
“Do you think maybe you could help?” Xander grunted at Spike, who was spread casually like a blanket across the freshly-made bed. “Tuna’s going to be here any minute!”
Xander had been scrambling around the motel room all morning, trying to clean for Thanksgiving. Who knew two men with so few possessions could make such a mess in such a small area? Most of the morning had been spent cleaning up the bathroom - yelchk - where it seemed that vampire senses did not come into play.
“Hmm,” Spike puzzled. “Nope. Sorry, pet. Pretty sure cleaning a rat-trap motel room isn’t in the Evil for Dummies handbook.”
“Yeah, well, neither is being an expert on a stupid soap opera, but hey, you got that down pat,” Xander snickered, tossing a pair of dirty socks into a random dresser drawer. Why haven’t I started looking for a place yet? he wondered. “Could you at least get rid of all of those candy wrappers?” he asked, pointing towards the mountain of assorted “travel size” wrappers scattered and towered on top of the nightstand.
“Will you relax a bit, Xander?” Spike asked, rolling over, opening the drawer on the nightstand and sweeping the wrappers into it and closing the drawer again. “It’s not like Tuna is expecting us to be all…heterohumancleaning bots. Besides, he can’t be much better; he’s half man, half, uh – fish?”
“But still, I want to at least look like we try to be a little neat.” Xander sighed, blowing a lock of too-long hair out of his eyes, as he hid the last of the dirty laundry in the ice bucket. “There, that looks better.”
“Pssh,” Spike rolled his eyes again, patting the spot next to him on the bed and giving Xander his patented ‘You know you want to come snog me senseless’ look. To which Xander responded by throwing himself on top of the vampire and seizing his lips.
Just as there was a knock at the door.
“Piss off!” Spike growled at the door, pulling Xander down again.
“Okay!” Tuna yelled from the other side of the door.
Xander scrambled off Spike, rolled off the bed and tripped over his feet to get to the door, yanking it open to see find Tuna. At least he thought it was Tuna. It sounded like him, but he couldn’t see over the three pizzas, two buckets of fried chicken and bags of Chinese food loaded in his arms.
“Jesus, what didn’t you get?” Xander asked, grabbing two of the sacks filled with Chinese takeout and a cardboard bucket of delicious-smelling chicken from Tuna’s load, finally able to see his face.
“Turkey,” he grimaced. “And fish, of course.”
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Xander stepped back. “Come in; you’re letting the warm in.”
“Hey, Spike,” Tuna called, setting the food on the small dinette table near the door. “How’s tricks?”
“Tricky, mate,” Spike said, sitting up and going to poke at the boxes and bags of food on the table. Not finding what he wanted, he started to pout.
“I didn’t forget you,” Tuna laughed, pulling out a plastic container of blood. “Didn’t know whether you preferred A or B, so I got you AB neg.”
“Already warm and everything,” Spike smiled, grabbing the demon and smacking a kiss against his forehead. “Ta ever so.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, and whatnot,” Tuna shrugged.
Xander smiled fondly at the two of them as he shut the door he’d been holding open. “Great. Let’s dig in, shall we? I’ve rented all the classics, too. Starting with Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving. Muah!” he laughed at Spike’s groan.
The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon and evening laughing, eating, and swapping stories about mayhem, violence, and past sexcapades. Video after video, Xander could feel the tension slip from his body, bit by bit. His thoughts didn’t drift any further away than the stories his new friend was telling them, Spike’s arms wrapped solidly and comfortably around him, and how nice this felt.
It wasn’t until after Tuna had left, promising to call the next day and swearing to drag Xander to the after-Thanksgiving sales, that Xander noticed what time it was, realizing he had completely forgotten about Thanksgiving dinner with the Scoobies.
“Shit!” he yelped, looking at the clock on the nightstand, 11:32 PM, and searching for his cell phone. Finding it buried at the bottom of his briefcase, he saw that it had powered off, the battery drained. Plugging it into the A/C adapter and powering on, a dozen text messages and voicemail alerts popped up onto the screen. Not having the heart to read or listen to all the messages, he sighed and slumped down onto the bed. Spike came and put his arms around him, nuzzling his chin against Xander’s neck.
“Sorry, luv,” Spike whispered against his ear. “I forgot, too.”
“I am so not going to hear the end of this,” he mumbled, head in hands, looking for all the world the picture of grief.
“Well, if they’re really your friends, they’ll understand it was just a simple mistake,” Spikes hands crawled up Xander’s chest, began kneading and rubbing against tightened muscles, massaging gently but firmly.
“That’s what I’m afraid of – that they won’t understand,” Xander sighed again, squeezing his eyes tight against the tears that threatened to come. “This is bad; this is real bad.”
After a couple moments of silence, Spike stood up, heading towards the bathroom. “Come on, luv. I’ll draw you bath; put the bubbles in you like, and I’ll give you a massage while you soak.
Xander looked up to find Spike smiling hopefully at him. Unable to say no, he let Spike take him by the hand, letting himself be led again.
He was sweating, suffocating, burning up. Looking to his left, there was only darkness, to his right, nothing but flames, licking and laughing bright orange and gold, screaming at him and singeing him. In front of him were swirls of light: greens, blues, pinks, entire rainbows of light and energy electrifying the air, feeding the fire, and holding him still, in place.
Someone was screaming, howling. Xander wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn’t move his hands, couldn’t turn away from the awful cries billowing like smoke from the flames.
Suddenly, at once, the lights before him stopped, and the fire to his right died; his limbs were free to move.
Turning toward where the fire had been, he saw a skeleton, clothing and flesh melted to the bones in places, reaching for him. Its eyes were melting between gold and blue.
Before Xander could reach out for - Spike! - the skeleton collapsed on itself, heaps of bones falling to dust, weeping ashes, and Spike was gone.
Xander woke, sweating, panting, his eyes glued open to the darkness of the motel room. Spike’s cold arm draped protectively across his chest, solid, still asleep.
There was someone else in the room. Glancing towards the door, he saw that it was open, and a figure moved through the light seeping in from the parking lot. The person snapped their fingers, and every light in the room came to life.
Willow stood there at the foot of their bed, tears falling from eyes as orange and violent as the fire in his dream had been.
“How could you?” she howled.
And as quickly as the lights had come on they were off, the door was slammed, and the only evidence she had been there at all was the slightly charged static energy coursing through the room.
Spike, woken by her shriek and the sound of the door closing, bolted upright, game face in place and growling. Realizing nothing was there, he turned to Xander, who was wide eyed and quivering. “What was it?” he asked.
“Willow,” Xander whispered.
Title: Learn to be Lonely Chapter 19/?
Author:
chocgood84Rating: NC-17 for brief violence and sexual content
Pairing: BtVS Spike/Xander
Author’s Note: Yes, I am aware that the timeline is a little screwed up and that Giles didn’t own the Magic Box until after Adam and after Dawn arrived. But in my reality, who’s Dawn? Adam what? Also, a huge spanking thanks to
kitty_poker1 for being my official L2BL beta.Disclaimer: These character’s aren’t mine, never were; I don’t get any profit for this hobby, so don’t sue – Thanks.
Warning: Brief violence, nudity, and hetero and homo sexual content and situations. And some h0t man-luvin.
This can also be found in my LJ Memories, as well as on my website.
“Can you believe Thanksgiving is two days?” Xander shouted over an electronic Cher ballad. “Two days! Where did this year go?”
“Hell if I know!” Tuna yelled back, handing a beer to the customer waiting at the service area. “I haven’t looked at the calendar since I dated that time-shifting demon a few years ago.”
“Sounds like a story there, mate,” Spike prodded, smirking as he swallowed the rest of his scotch. “Can’t say as I blame you, though. ‘S not like you and I really need to keep track of time.”
“Huh?” Xander puzzled, looking at Tuna. “Oh, you’re immortal, too?”
“Uh--” Tuna thought for a moment as he shook a martini, poured it, and handed it off to a cocktailing Mrk’m’sh demon wearing a Cher wig and pink sequined dress. “Let’s just say I won’t have to plan my funeral anytime soon.”
“Oh, well, cool,” Xander smiled. He turned in his bar stool to survey the room. Every Cher video, concert, and album had exploded within Serpent tonight. There were tall Chers and short Chers, blonde Chers and brunettes, old ones, new ones, and every spectrum in between. There were even a few misplaced Sonnys wandering around. Ha, Xander chuckled. Cher Night. At least they won’t run out of gay music.
Despite the fact that Spike and Xander hadn’t been out together for a few weeks, they had decided to stay off the dance floor for the evening, lest they break out into a rendition of the Shoop Shoop Song.
“So, you’re sure you don’t want to come to Buffy’s with me on Wednesday?” Xander joked, glancing at Spike.
“There’s not enough blood, alcohol, or cigs in the bloody verse, pet. Last year was quite enough Scooby Thanksgiving for me, ta ever so,” he grimaced.
“Sounds like there’s a story there, chum,” Tuna laughed, wriggling his eyebrows at Spike.
“Too long to tell,” Xander interjected, trying to steer the conversation away from angry spirits and nasty sicknesses. “So, uh…what are you doing Wednesday, Tuna?”
“Nothing,” he answered, tapping out a cigarette from Spike’s pack and lighting it, visibly quivering as the sensation overtook him. “So, what happened last year?”
“Nothing!” Xander squeaked. “I mean, nothing, huh? No one to spend it with?”
“The whelp here,” Spike put his arm around Xander’s shoulder, “woke up some evil Indian spirits who made him sick as all hell, then crashed the party. Was nearly dusted, myself, what with that bleeding rope.” Spike rolled his eyes. “But, as per usual, the slayer fought the baddies, kinda won, and then gorged herself on poultry and cornbread. All in all, it was a horrible day.”
“There, see, that wasn’t such a long story,” Tuna reprimanded.
“Yeah, okay, but you weren’t the one with smallpox, syphilis, and who the hell knows what else.”
“Damn, queen, who have you been tricking with?” a lanky John Mayer look alike snarked as he swayed by them.
“Bitter!” Tuna called after him, and turned back to Xander. “So, how do you know the same thing won’t happen again this year?”
“Well, the good news is that we’ve rarely had to fight the same thing or things more than once,” Xander beamed. Hey, he thought. I deserve to be at least a little proud. “The bad news is that there’s always something else.”
“So why don’t you take a holiday off?” Tuna asked.
Xander glanced over to Spike, who looked just as interested in the answer as Tuna was.
“Well, uh,” he stammered. “I already promised I’d be there. We kind of has this falling out about me not being around so much anymore.”
“Say it, love,” Spike urged him. “They set up a trap and you walked right into it.”
“Okay, that might be true,” Xander conceded. “But Willow’s just now starting to speak to me again. I don’t think I should break any promises to her right now. Unless you want to be dating a puddle of melted flesh?”
“Bint,” Spike muttered, just loudly enough so that Xander would hear him. For now, he chose to ignore it. It wasn’t like Willow was intentionally trying to cause trouble. She was just worried about him. Sure, she could be selfish under the right circumstances, but she really was trying to help. Wasn’t she?
“Anyway,” Xander scowled at Spike, “what else is there to do?”
“Why don’t you have your own dinner?” Tuna asked, glaring at the DJ booth as Believe started thumping out of the sound system.
Xander looked at Spike, who shrugged his response.
“That’s not a bad idea. Except that I don’t really have any way of cooking a Thanksgiving dinner.”
“So?” Tuna asked. “Who says you have to have homemade turkey and stuffing and mashed potatoes? Why not have an alternative dinner? You’re definitely an alternative couple,” he laughed.
“And I don’t have to be at Buffy’s till late, so we could do our own thing earlier in the day,” Xander smiled. This was turning into a good idea. “What are you doing Wednesday afternoon?”
“Me?” Tuna shrugged. “I didn’t mean to invite myself –”
“You didn’t. I’m inviting you over. We are inviting you over. Don’t spend Thanksgiving alone,” Xander urged.
Tuna glanced in Spike’s direction, who nodded. “What better have you got to do?”
“Alright, fine,” Tuna smiled. “It’s a date. I’ll bring the Kung Po Chicken.”
“Great,” Xander exclaimed.
“Great,” Tuna laughed.
“Great,” Spike mumbled.
***
“Do you think maybe you could help?” Xander grunted at Spike, who was spread casually like a blanket across the freshly-made bed. “Tuna’s going to be here any minute!”
Xander had been scrambling around the motel room all morning, trying to clean for Thanksgiving. Who knew two men with so few possessions could make such a mess in such a small area? Most of the morning had been spent cleaning up the bathroom - yelchk - where it seemed that vampire senses did not come into play.
“Hmm,” Spike puzzled. “Nope. Sorry, pet. Pretty sure cleaning a rat-trap motel room isn’t in the Evil for Dummies handbook.”
“Yeah, well, neither is being an expert on a stupid soap opera, but hey, you got that down pat,” Xander snickered, tossing a pair of dirty socks into a random dresser drawer. Why haven’t I started looking for a place yet? he wondered. “Could you at least get rid of all of those candy wrappers?” he asked, pointing towards the mountain of assorted “travel size” wrappers scattered and towered on top of the nightstand.
“Will you relax a bit, Xander?” Spike asked, rolling over, opening the drawer on the nightstand and sweeping the wrappers into it and closing the drawer again. “It’s not like Tuna is expecting us to be all…heterohumancleaning bots. Besides, he can’t be much better; he’s half man, half, uh – fish?”
“But still, I want to at least look like we try to be a little neat.” Xander sighed, blowing a lock of too-long hair out of his eyes, as he hid the last of the dirty laundry in the ice bucket. “There, that looks better.”
“Pssh,” Spike rolled his eyes again, patting the spot next to him on the bed and giving Xander his patented ‘You know you want to come snog me senseless’ look. To which Xander responded by throwing himself on top of the vampire and seizing his lips.
Just as there was a knock at the door.
“Piss off!” Spike growled at the door, pulling Xander down again.
“Okay!” Tuna yelled from the other side of the door.
Xander scrambled off Spike, rolled off the bed and tripped over his feet to get to the door, yanking it open to see find Tuna. At least he thought it was Tuna. It sounded like him, but he couldn’t see over the three pizzas, two buckets of fried chicken and bags of Chinese food loaded in his arms.
“Jesus, what didn’t you get?” Xander asked, grabbing two of the sacks filled with Chinese takeout and a cardboard bucket of delicious-smelling chicken from Tuna’s load, finally able to see his face.
“Turkey,” he grimaced. “And fish, of course.”
“Well, don’t just stand there,” Xander stepped back. “Come in; you’re letting the warm in.”
“Hey, Spike,” Tuna called, setting the food on the small dinette table near the door. “How’s tricks?”
“Tricky, mate,” Spike said, sitting up and going to poke at the boxes and bags of food on the table. Not finding what he wanted, he started to pout.
“I didn’t forget you,” Tuna laughed, pulling out a plastic container of blood. “Didn’t know whether you preferred A or B, so I got you AB neg.”
“Already warm and everything,” Spike smiled, grabbing the demon and smacking a kiss against his forehead. “Ta ever so.”
“Happy Thanksgiving, and whatnot,” Tuna shrugged.
Xander smiled fondly at the two of them as he shut the door he’d been holding open. “Great. Let’s dig in, shall we? I’ve rented all the classics, too. Starting with Charlie Brown’s Thanksgiving. Muah!” he laughed at Spike’s groan.
The three of them spent the rest of the afternoon and evening laughing, eating, and swapping stories about mayhem, violence, and past sexcapades. Video after video, Xander could feel the tension slip from his body, bit by bit. His thoughts didn’t drift any further away than the stories his new friend was telling them, Spike’s arms wrapped solidly and comfortably around him, and how nice this felt.
It wasn’t until after Tuna had left, promising to call the next day and swearing to drag Xander to the after-Thanksgiving sales, that Xander noticed what time it was, realizing he had completely forgotten about Thanksgiving dinner with the Scoobies.
“Shit!” he yelped, looking at the clock on the nightstand, 11:32 PM, and searching for his cell phone. Finding it buried at the bottom of his briefcase, he saw that it had powered off, the battery drained. Plugging it into the A/C adapter and powering on, a dozen text messages and voicemail alerts popped up onto the screen. Not having the heart to read or listen to all the messages, he sighed and slumped down onto the bed. Spike came and put his arms around him, nuzzling his chin against Xander’s neck.
“Sorry, luv,” Spike whispered against his ear. “I forgot, too.”
“I am so not going to hear the end of this,” he mumbled, head in hands, looking for all the world the picture of grief.
“Well, if they’re really your friends, they’ll understand it was just a simple mistake,” Spikes hands crawled up Xander’s chest, began kneading and rubbing against tightened muscles, massaging gently but firmly.
“That’s what I’m afraid of – that they won’t understand,” Xander sighed again, squeezing his eyes tight against the tears that threatened to come. “This is bad; this is real bad.”
After a couple moments of silence, Spike stood up, heading towards the bathroom. “Come on, luv. I’ll draw you bath; put the bubbles in you like, and I’ll give you a massage while you soak.
Xander looked up to find Spike smiling hopefully at him. Unable to say no, he let Spike take him by the hand, letting himself be led again.
He was sweating, suffocating, burning up. Looking to his left, there was only darkness, to his right, nothing but flames, licking and laughing bright orange and gold, screaming at him and singeing him. In front of him were swirls of light: greens, blues, pinks, entire rainbows of light and energy electrifying the air, feeding the fire, and holding him still, in place.
Someone was screaming, howling. Xander wanted to cover his ears, but he couldn’t move his hands, couldn’t turn away from the awful cries billowing like smoke from the flames.
Suddenly, at once, the lights before him stopped, and the fire to his right died; his limbs were free to move.
Turning toward where the fire had been, he saw a skeleton, clothing and flesh melted to the bones in places, reaching for him. Its eyes were melting between gold and blue.
Before Xander could reach out for - Spike! - the skeleton collapsed on itself, heaps of bones falling to dust, weeping ashes, and Spike was gone.
Xander woke, sweating, panting, his eyes glued open to the darkness of the motel room. Spike’s cold arm draped protectively across his chest, solid, still asleep.
There was someone else in the room. Glancing towards the door, he saw that it was open, and a figure moved through the light seeping in from the parking lot. The person snapped their fingers, and every light in the room came to life.
Willow stood there at the foot of their bed, tears falling from eyes as orange and violent as the fire in his dream had been.
“How could you?” she howled.
And as quickly as the lights had come on they were off, the door was slammed, and the only evidence she had been there at all was the slightly charged static energy coursing through the room.
Spike, woken by her shriek and the sound of the door closing, bolted upright, game face in place and growling. Realizing nothing was there, he turned to Xander, who was wide eyed and quivering. “What was it?” he asked.
“Willow,” Xander whispered.
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Well done sweetie!
~Nebula
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Mmmm...can't wait (but will) for more.
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Willow stood there at the foot of their bed, tears falling from eyes as orange and violent as the fire in his dream had been.
“How could you?” she howled."
So she had to sneak and spy, huh? Great friend that! Not!