Xander woke in the night, dopily suspicious at why until the fresh, raucous burst of voices brutally drew his attention to the lack of Spike.  Sitting up sharply he gazed around, blinking hard into the room’s darkness and finally making out the shape of the vampire against the moonlit window.

“What’s wrong?” he asked hoarsely, throat dry from sleep.

“Nothing.  Get your head down.”

Xander groped out to his side and switched the bedside lamp on.

“Can’t.  The voices are…bad.”

“Again?”  Spike turned back to study Xander.  “Why?”

“Maybe just the strain of last night.  Maybe…I don’t know.”

Spike immediately returned to the bed, sitting on the edge.

“Better?”

Xander moved a little closer, eyelid instantly beginning to droop.

“Yeah,” and he slumped back down, not noticing that, with a little help from a carefully placed hand, he’d left the covers behind.

Not admirable but effective, Spike acknowledged: he’d wanted Xander to wake up, had even hoped that he’d wake up horny but wasn’t sure how long it took the individual human body to form habits.  Two nights, two orgasms, all it took for a demon to come to expect.  Or possibly expect to come.  Spike swivelled and stretched out on the bed beside Xander, knowing this was taking quite a chance, that Xander hadn’t really been in control the past two times they’d…what?  Barely mutual masturbation, more like masturbating using another person.  But it was sex, and any sex was…

“Good enough,” Spike accepted, already half-hard at the thought.

“Mmm?”

“Nothing, Pet.”

“Mmm.”

“Let Spike look after you.”

“Mmm.”

Consent enough for a souled vampire who should know better; Spike ghosted his fingertips over the back of Xander’s forearm, feeling the soft hairs brush aside, feeling the heat, and growing harder with the sensations.  Better if Xander wasn’t too aware to start with: Spike started to reach for the lamp, but it was so tempting, the opportunity to make this…real.

Xander was halfway to sleep when his hands were taken and led to a new resting place above his head.  Okay.  Three-quarters to sleep and his t-shirt was slid up his body and there was nuzzling.  Nuzzling?  Back to halfway, ‘cause…  A cool tongue flicked over his nipple and although his body perked up with immediate interest, his mind freaked.  Maybe he’d got the whole way to sleep and this was the oddest dream although how odd would it be after the last couple of nights when he and Spike…he and Spike…he and…

“Spike!” Xander protested as he jerked awake from the joint sensations of the vampire’s mouth sucking hard at his nipple, and a hand teasing the skin beneath the waistband of his boxers.  “Spike,” a warning as he attempted to shove the vampire away.

“Don’t have to be strictly lights out, do we?” Spike asked as he caught Xander’s wrists and playfully restrained him.  “Tell me you don’t want to see what we look like when…”

“No, I don’t, and you don’t, and…  Fuck, Spike, will you…”

A determined struggle and Spike abruptly realised the playfully was only applying to him, quickly releasing Xander and having his attempt to revert to calming touches struck forcefully aside.  Xander scrambled off the bed and to the far side of the room, hands slapping over his ears in a reflex action when confronted by the noise.

“Xander, come back here.”

“This is not gonna happen, this is…it’s…this is not gonna happen.  This—  Shut the fuck up!” was hissed in desperation.

“Xander…”

Xander scrambled back to kneel beside Spike’s feet, within the Spike zone but as far out of range of those persuasive hands as possible.

“Don’t do this to me, please, just let me have some quiet.”

Spike stared appraisingly and regretfully accepted, yes, bad move.  He kept forgetting how vulnerable Xander was in these moments, and he kept forgetting how his own conscience was affected by that vulnerability.

“I wanted us to feel good.  Like before.  But better.”

“But that…  And this…  Oh, God.  Before…  It was like you said, about the relief from tension?  Why am I repeating back to you something that was only meant to humour me in the first place?”  Spike shrugged, face grim with unconcealed disappointment.  “See,” Xander continued stiltedly, “this would be…sex, the other…wasn’t?  No, that’s not right.  But it is.”

“It wasn’t sex?  Fine,” Spike said sourly.  “Glad we’ve sorted that out.”

“Spike, I don’t mean…”

“Don’t worry, I said fine, I meant fine, I understand perfectly.  You’re all the bloody same, aren’t you?” he finished with a sneer.

“Understand what?” Xander asked vacantly.  “Who’s the same?”

Spike turned, punched the pillow unnecessarily viciously a few times, then dropped onto it.

“Should’ve expected it, I’m just here to be used.”

“No!” Xander denied the accusation instantly, horrified that what he’d suspected about himself might actually be true.  But no.  The real truth emerged without hours of angst-ridden introspection.  “What happened before wasn’t using you.  It was needing you.”  No movement from the rigid back facing him, and Xander crawled up the bed, warily putting a hand on Spike’s shoulder.  “Needing you.  That’s scarier than a fuck, Spike.  It’s so…intimate.  I’m not good at that.”

“I don’t care if you do use me,” Spike grouched.  “Seeing as it’s in a good cause.”

“And we’re not all the same.”

“Oh, sure.”

“Spike…  I am really grateful for the peace that you’ve brought me, and…and…  I kinda like this guy.  I’ve had the chance to get to know you a little and…” The pressure from his hand increased momentarily.  “It’s not always easy, but you, me, there’s familiarity, and the comfort runs both ways, and we’re getting on okay, and you shouldn’t be able to torture this outta me but I like you.  And I can’t…I can’t afford to like you any better.”  Spike’s interest was most definitely piqued; he began to turn his head to see Xander but a heavy hand kept him in place.  “Can’t say this stuff if you look at me.”  Spike nodded beneath Xander’s hand and Xander felt him stop pushing.  “The peace is enough incentive for me to get…attached…to you.  The rest…  Can’t happen, I can’t cope with any kind of emotional crash when you're gone.”

“That’s…honest.”

“I have to be.  Fuck knows, I don’t want to be.  But I’m not using you, Spike.  If I took advantage before I’m sorry for that, but I’m not using you.”

The hand disappeared and Spike took that as a sign he could roll back, which he did without hesitation, staring in wonder at a Xander who couldn’t meet his eyes.

“I think,” Spike admitted, guilty conscience outweighing his better judgement, “that I started it.  The first time.”

“No, I practically leapt on you.”  Spike couldn’t disguise the smirk; Xander flicked a glance and away.  “I did,” Xander repeated, flushed with embarrassment.

“There’s always a chance that we leapt at each other.”

“See, this is why it’s all wrong.  You, nice, considerate, and…wrong.  Wrong, wrong, wrong.”

“I have no excuses other than being a bad, horny demon who may not have coveted your arse since Sunnydale but has been doing his best to make up for that since we got here.”  Xander’s jaw dropped in astonishment.  “There.  That should piss you off enough to stop you liking me for a few hours.”

“Is…is…is that true?”

“Might be.”

“That’s not true.”

“Get your kit off and let’s find out.”

Xander gave a short, insecure laugh.

“That’s not true,” he insisted. 

“I am a bad, horny demon.”

“But the rest is about heat of the moment, not coveting…coveting…”

“Your arse?  Very nice arse it is too.”

Spike’s laughter at Xander’s stricken expression gave him away, and although Xander tried to appreciate the well-meant if inapt teasing, the main topic of the conversation wasn’t going to be laughed off.

“Tell me you believe me.  About using – not using you.  I’ll feel really bad if you think I did that.”

Spike’s smile became indulgent.

“Bloody soft nowadays, aren’t you?”  Xander waited, and eventually Spike sighed.  “I was there, I know how little thought was involved.  Not using.”

Xander slumped in relief and let himself be manoeuvred into a nice, comfy, sleep-friendly position, his back to Spike as he always seemed to prefer, Spike throwing a grounding arm over him but sensibly choosing not to get any closer on this occasion.

“I promise I won’t…”

“Oi, none of that.  Thought we’d already been there.”

“Living in hope,” Xander recalled.  “For a demon without the necessary physiology, you’re so full of shit.”

“Hmm, sounds as if you like me.  Like me much more and I’ll have to start watching for a stake in your hand.”

“Hey…  C’mere.”

Spike didn’t need to be asked twice.  Once again Xander had caught him by surprise and Spike was delighted at that; he shuffled as close to the man as he could possibly get and, a few positioning nudges later, Xander was being undeniably cuddled.

“Are you delirious, Pet?”

“Must be.”

“Knew there had to be a reasonable explanation.”

Xander tipped back his head in encouragement and the nuzzling started, swiftly followed by the sensation of Spike hardening against him.

“Spike…”

“Ignore it.  Go to sleep,” Spike purred into Xander’s hair.  “When you wake up you’ll see this was all a horrible nightmare.”

“You’ll be here?”

“Oh, yeah.  This bad dream ain’t going anywhere.”

…

A much nicer day as Xander made his way back to the pool.  He was fairly sure he shouldn’t be doing this and absolutely certain that Spike would be furious when he woke up and guessed why Xander had sneaked off and where to.  But this was about peace of mind: Xander had to know he’d got the facts absolutely straight, whether or not he ever passed them on.

When he’d left the area the previous afternoon he’d have sworn it would take the company of an armed troop to get him back, but the sun was bright and the night’s almost-gales had dropped to a breeze, there were insects buzzing and birds singing, and the ominous atmosphere had completely evaporated.  Here and now, Xander couldn’t recall exactly what had spooked him.  The day had been grey, bleak, a fitting reflection of this place’s tragedy; the wind had been so fierce it could easily have caused any noises he’d interpreted as sinister, and as he was naturally hypersensitive after sharing Wayne’s last moments, there was every chance he’d imagined the threat.

Today the pool looked beautiful, felt welcoming, and once again Xander’s first impressions were of the fun that Wayne had had here.  Once again Xander’s heart ached with the knowledge of how that fun was so cruelly curtailed.

…

Disturbed by an intermittent thunking sound from outside, Spike stirred, groped for Xander, groaned to himself when it became clear that the man had been gone for a while.

“Too much to hope that you’re safely downstairs indulging me in a nice fry-up,” Spike murmured to the absentee.

Nah.  Xander was always going to be Xander.  Stretching, scowling at that bloody irritating noise, Spike thought about more sleep, thought about the fact that there’d miraculously be a cooler of blood in the trunk of the Mustang, thought about a shower and a nice, leisurely wank ‘cause there was still plenty of pent-up lust remaining from the episode in the night.

And on the subject of pent-up lust…  Xander couldn’t afford to like him any better, eh?

“Have to work on that.”

Something else to work on: his hand wrapped around his cock and a full sharp tugs brought it to a full erection, and in his mind he tried out the idea of this being Xander’s hand, involuntarily thrusting into his fist at the thought, and if that was Xander’s touch, how would his mouth…  Ohhh, yeah, just like that, Baby, just.  Like.  That.  A moment’s fantasy of Xander sucking his cock and glancing appealing up at him and Spike was snatching his hand away and cursing.  Two lust-darkened eyes had looked to him for approval and that was wrong, it was…  Fuck!  How could it be a betrayal of this Xander?  Fuck, fuck, fuck!  Fucking bloody stupid sodding soul, all your fault.

“Sure.”

He grumpily rose, grumpily showered, grumpily dressed, grumpily stomped down the stairs and hoped – grumpily – that Xander was somewhere in the proximity so he could take this out on him, however unfair or irrational that was.

Alone in the house, it turned out, and that suited him if he couldn’t have Xander.  Company.  Couldn’t have Xander’s company; he rolled his eyes.  He didn’t want to tolerate Chrissie’s miserable face or desperate prattling, and he’d certainly had enough of the not-so-incredible hulk with his dull wits and sheer ugliness of spirit and…  Sheer ugliness.  Spike picked up one of the photos that Chrissie had evidently been sharing with Xander when Spike’d taken Toby for a bowel-loosening lesson in eighty-miles-per-hour handbrake turns.  That was the husband, Spike supposed – very average – and that was the late, lamented Wayne.  Sweet-looking child, Spike conceded, and apparently the glue that had held the family together.  Although, the way Toby was looking at his brother…

“‘When I was a child, I spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child’,” Spike quoted to himself.  “‘But when I became a man, I put away childish things.’  And then…”  Spike was already running back to the kitchen.  “…naturally…”  Peering out into the yard to see a pile of freshly chopped wood, no boy, and no axe.  “…became a fratricidal psychopath.”

Racing upstairs to grab the mildly sun-proofing duster, Spike mentally rushed through his pre-planned rescue route, furious at himself for not having serious doubts about Toby earlier and questioning the whereabouts of the nasty suspicious nature that had served him so well for years.

…

“Why are you crying?”

The words jerked Xander from the past to the present and he was back sitting on the bench by the pool; his hands instantly came up to wipe the tears from his face.

“It’s not me,” he explained.

“Is it…”

“Wayne.  Yeah.”

“Why?”

Xander looked incredulously at Toby.  The axe over one shoulder and the thick branches under the opposite arm might have made another man hold his tongue, but not Xander.

“Because this part of his existence was taken from him in horrific circumstances.  You know what I’m talking about, Toby.”

“He – he drowned,” Toby insisted.  “Just drowned.”

“You know the truth.”

“It was an accident.”

Xander flinched as Wayne screamed in his ear.

“It’s okay, Wayne, it’s okay.”

“Is he talking to you?  Is he?  What’s he saying?  He’s a liar, what’s he saying?”

“That it was no acc…”

“It was, it was a fucking accident!”

“No,” Xander said firmly.  “Holding a boy’s head under until he passes out could be an accident if it was a badly timed joke.  Keeping him under with a foot on his back…”

“That isn’t how it happened!”

“Your brother told me.  Showed me.”

“I’ll fucking show you.”

Toby threw down the wood and began to march around the perimeter of the pool; Xander was immediately on his feet, hands held up in a placating gesture.

“Toby, you don’t want to hurt me.”

“I’ll fucking show you.”

The words might have been the same but they were full of insecurity, and the boy slowed in his approach.

“You don’t need to hurt me.  I’m not going to tell your mom.”

“You—  I don’t believe you.”

As Toby took an aggressive step forward, swinging the axe into a two handed grip, Xander took a step back.

“It isn’t up to me to tell her.  But someone needs to,” Xander continued pointedly.  “So you can all be helped.  So you can get over this.”

“No,” the boy said weakly, a tremor in his voice.

“Yes.  It can be better.”  It seemed an inordinately long time before the axe swung back down, the handle sliding through Toby’s fist until the head rested on the floor.  Xander smiled sympathetically as he saw the child that Toby still was despite his size: tears filling the pale eyes, jaw wobbling with the effort of holding back harrowing emotions.  “You want to come talk to me?”  Xander returned to the bench and sat, leaving plenty of room for company.

“No,” was sniffed.

“Okay.”

Xander forced himself to look at the pool, wanting to show trust, hoping that Toby would respond favourably to it and trying not to let himself grow edgy when the boy fell broodingly silent and unmoving when the sniffles stopped.  A couple of shuffled steps and Toby cleared his throat.

“Where’s Spike?”

Xander shrugged.

“Probably still sleep.”

“He said…he said that what you do is really dangerous.”

“Yeah,” Xander grinned, “about that…”

“You could die from this at any time.”

“See, what Spike actually meant…”

“If they found you in the pool where Wayne died that would kinda make sense, wouldn’t it?” Toby said flatly.  “You feeling his feelings.  Sacrificing yourself to help my mom.”

Fuck, fuck, fuck, stay calm, stay calm.  Stay.  Calm.  Think.  Thinkthinkthink.

“See, that’s so typical of Spike, making out that I’m the brave one, when…  I have to tell you, he’s incredibly brave, knowing what the…umm…secondary effect would do to him.”

“Secondary effect?”

“Didn’t he tell you?  Probably didn’t want to scare you.  If I died through this the psychic energy would be released and anyone within…I d’know…”  Xander looked around, picking out a distinctive tree about five-hundred yards away.  “Anyone between here and that tree with the curling branch, they’d suffer far more than me.  Imagine dying from going crazy with psychic energy.  You’re a bright kid, Toby, I know you’ve been paying attention, you understand what I’m talking about.”  Xander dropped his voice, trying to sound as chilling as possible.  “I’ve seen videos of mediums dying from stress and the people around them tearing out their own hearts to end the madness.”

“That…that…that isn’t possible.”

“Oh, yeah.  I’ve seen people using fingers and sticks and pens in their ears, up their noses, trying to kill off their brain to stop it.  That’s how I lost my eye, did you know that?  Got too close to an imploding medium and poked it out trying to get at my brain.  Luckily I was saved but…  God, that’d be terrible if it happened now and you…  We won’t think about it, ‘cause even an Olympic athlete couldn’t get out of range in time.”

“Okay.  Okay,” whispered the boy, thinking it over, and Xander sent up a silent prayer that he was as gullible and stupid as he appeared.  “Okay.  Uh…Xan…Xander…  How are you feeling now?”

“Umm…  Little shaky actually.  Hey, don’t suppose you could go back to the house and let Spike know?  That’d keep you both safe in case…”

Xander graphically mimed his head exploding.

“You’ll tell him, won’t you?”  Xander jumped as Toby shouted.  “Once he knows it will all be over, this will be over.”

“I’m not going to tell him anything,” Xander insisted calmly.  “My work is nothing to do with him, this is entirely private.”

“It would be better…better…  Spike said you could die from this.”

“I’m not going to die, Toby, I’m going to help you.”

“There’s only one way you can help me.  Shut up.  You have to shut up.”

Reminiscent of many desperate times in the past, this one happened so fast it seemed to be over the moment it started: Toby covers the distance between them at unlikely speed, Xander’s head turns to see the boy looming over him with the axe raised, starting to fall.  Before it can strike a hand shoots out from the trees and snatches the weapon away, followed by a booted foot that sends Toby sprawling.  At the same moment Xander is grabbed by the collar and yanked over the bench, caught around the waist by a strong arm and tugged out of the light into the dense woodland.

Back in real time, Xander struggled against the rigid hold.

“Spike, you can…  Let me go, will you?  I have to see if he’s okay.”

The grip tightened and Spike grabbed a fistful of Xander’s hair to hold his head still.

“Tell you what,” Spike ground out furiously into Xander’s ear, “how about you shut the fuck up until we’re back at the house?  That way I won’t need to punch you out and carry you.”

The sheer level of barely contained rage in the vampire’s voice, in his tense body, was enough to make Xander comply, and he let himself be dragged through the trees by his grim-faced companion.

…

“You knew, didn’t you?” Spike demanded amidst the seething and pacing and last wisps of sun-struck vampire smoke.  “I can’t believe you knew how that kid died and yet you still went back out there, took such a pointless risk.”

With a growl he headed Xander off, stopping him from leaving the living room for the fifth time.  Xander took a deep breath, battling to retain his temper because one of them had to.

“I didn’t see it as a risk, and…it was my decision.”

“Fucking idiotic one and you’re too up yourself to admit it.  That demented thug…”

“He’s just a boy.”

“He has two inches on you and he’s built like a brick shit-house.”

“He’s sixteen.”

“He’s already killed once!”

“No, listen…”

“You bloody listen for once: you shouldn’t be taking chances.  And before you start the bleeding heart defence, remember he got rid of someone who was an inconvenience to him.  You, Xander, are more than an inconvenience, you’re a threat.”

“Spike…”

“He was about to split your skull open with an axe!  If I hadn’t been there…”

“But you were.  Doing your job.  Great, finished, end of conversation.  And, Spike…”

“Finished?  Excellent.  Get your gear together, we’re leaving.”

“I’m not going anywhere, not yet.  I need a chance to speak to him, to help him.  To help both of them start healing.”

“I don’t…!  You know you’re going to get yourself killed.”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah,” Xander dismissed Spike with casual wave.  “Grew up on a Hellmouth, insert your own horror story.”

Once again Spike barred Xander’s exit, but this time Xander caught Spike off his guard with a double-handed shove, clearing the doorway and sprinting up the stairs, shucking his coat and throwing it across the bed.  Doing his best to ignore Spike’s determined pursuit, Xander crossed to the window and looked for Toby.  Spike slammed the door behind them and leaned against it.

“Tell her now.  Phone Chrissie and tell her, then we can get out of this dump.  Let her help him, he’s her responsibility.”

Xander swivelled around, staring at Spike in shock.

“I can’t tell her the truth.”

“Then what was the fucking point?” Spike demanded furiously.

“This was about bringing her a little closure.  That isn’t up to me now, it isn’t up to you either,” Xander told him pointedly, “so you don’t say a word, okay?”

“You don’t think she deserves to know?”

“I don’t think it’s up to us to tell her.  I’ll talk to Toby, persuade him…”

“Not to slit your throat.  That’s if you get the chance before he has the knife in.”

“You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“You can’t put yourself at risk, you’re too important for that.”

“Ah, fucking hell, Spike!  You know how much this appals me?  You sucking up out of expediency.  At least once I could have relied on you to be a truly honest pain in the ass.”

“We’re talking inter-dimensional war, Harris.  The kind of conflict that would have made sodding Glory turn and run.”

“What is this?  Your apocalypse is bigger than my apocalypse?”

“We take them one by one, and this…”

“I can’t listen to you, it’s like being trapped in a room with Angel Mini-me.”

“You take that back!” Spike ordered as he strode angrily across the room, only coming to a halt when Xander, literally, had him at arm’s length.

“Or what?  You’ll hit me again?  Or maybe just hit on me.  I think I need time out to figure which of those disgusts me more.”

Xander dropped the arm that was keeping Spike at bay, picked up and pulled on his coat, and headed for the door.  Spike watched with growing exasperation.

“You can’t…”

“Yes, I can.  More to the point, I am.”

“Wait a while, I’ll come with you.”

“I’m sick of the sound of your voice, I need to be away from you.”

“Xander…”

“I can look after myself.”

“Oh, yeah, I remember that quite clearly from the past, you manfully taking the battle to wherever you’d been knocked on your arse.”

“If it turns out that you’re right about Toby, and he catches up with me…  I’m sure you can find yourself another freak,” Xander told Spike coldly.

Last check that he had his wallet and keys and Xander was out of the door; Spike started to follow for all of two steps, then he waved dismissively after the young man, morphing the gesture into an aggressive bowman’s salute.

All it took was the sound of the Mustang revving up and roaring away for Spike’s feelings to recoil and hit him in the gut.  That was Xander gone who knows where, maybe even back home, and Spike was left with an incomplete mission, no medium, the tedious weight of Angel’s expectations and a whole shit-load of explaining unless he turned this around.

He’d have to be reasonable and he hated that, and why was he in the wrong here anyway?  It wasn’t usually a bad thing to get mad that someone in your care was deliberately putting themselves in danger.  It was pretty much expected that you’d want to keep your charge alive in Spike’s particular line of work.  But now, through no fault of his own, he’d have to be reasonable.

Whatever had happened, was happening, was due to happen, it wasn’t going to be happening under this roof, Spike knew that much.  Stuffing their belongings into the two pieces of luggage, Spike paused to rifle through Xander’s to make sure his phone wasn’t here.  No, and that was a good thing, at least he could contact the infuriating man at some point.  The stereo was gone too and it irritated him beyond reason that he couldn’t figure out where Xander had stashed that.

It felt like he had hours to wait for dusk, but in truth it was barely one, and when he was finally able to throw the bags over his shoulders and leave he felt positively exultant.  No-one to say goodbye to, Chrissie still at work and the lout having laid very low since trying to permanently part Xander’s hair, and Spike considered both of them fortunate not to have got in his way.  On the side of good, maybe, but he was more than ready to tell her to fuck off for taking advantage of Xander’s generosity, and Toby…  Spike trudged along the road, unmindful of the distance he had to walk to the motel, passing the time in blissful contemplation of how many ways he could torture the boy to an excruciating death.

…

“Xander…”

“Fuck off.”

“I’m at—”  Spike looked at his phone and couldn’t contain the growl.  He stabbed the number in for a second time and waited for it to be answered.  “Don’t you fucking dare hang up on me again!”

Spike felt Xander consider that.

“What do you want?” Xander sighed, displaying more sense than annoyance.

“I’m at the motel, your stuff is here.  We’re leaving this place tomorrow but for tonight it’s room six again.  I’ll leave the door open for you.”

“Ah, great.  You couldn’t have booked me my own room?”

“D’know, Pet.  How are the voices?”

There was a protracted pause.

“See you later.”

…

Of course Spike was awake when Xander arrived, but the moment he heard the car he stopped his prowling and dropped onto a bed, ready to mimic sleep and totally ignore the man, or oh-so conveniently stir and indulgently welcome Xander back to his peace-inducing embrace, whichever would have the best impact.

Stumbling footsteps and Spike was mentally rolling his closed eyes, listening as the door opened with barely a sound; the slightest creak as Xander leant against the doorframe.

“Spike?” came a hoarse whisper.

It was all about figuring out whether Xander wanted him awake or asleep, and then he’d do the opposite and—  An automatic scenting breath, and Spike leapt up and crossed the room in a blur, switching on the nearest lamp and easing Xander into its light with careful hands.

“What happened?”

“Couple of guys,” Xander said as Spike led him to the bed and sat him on the edge, rushing to turn on another light so he could see the damage to the man’s face more clearly: an amount of bruising, few cuts and grazes, nothing that needed a major repair job.

“But why?  Why you?”

He looked down in surprise as Xander’s hands fisted in the loose edges of his shirt and pulled him closer.  Spike didn’t bother to resist, and he would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t intrigued by the move, doubting that, after their earlier altercation, he’d have witnessed it from a completely sober Xander.

Xander kept the pressure up until the only place for Spike to go was on his lap, so he straddled Xander’s thighs and sat, let the dark head lean against him.  Only then did Xander let out a coarse breath and fall still.

“Tell me,” Spike encouraged, tone softly persuasive.

“What’s to tell?  I’m such an idiot, should have known he…”

“Was this Toby’s doing?”

“Yeah.  Could say he loaded the gun and let someone else pull the trigger.”

“Oh, fuck, you don’t mean…”

Spike started to feel over Xander’s body for more damage, particularly where the lower half of Xander’s t was smeared with blood.

“Figure of speech.”  Spike would have been aware of the stink of a fired weapon clinging to Xander the second he’d entered the room.  And he should have recognised from the stain patterns that the t had simply been used to wipe the blood from Xander’s face.  He shook his head at his alarm, letting the sudden anxiety go as, once again, Xander settled against him.  “You warned me.  You warned me and I was too busy being…being…”

“A right wanker?”

“Ah, shit, that’ll do.  I didn’t listen and if I had I wouldn’t be sitting here…”

“With a lap full of vampire.”

“…feeling sorry for myself.”

“Sore?”

“Yes.  Needlessly.  Idiot, I’m an idiot.”

“If you’re sore, shall I…?”

“Don’t go.  Please.  And you can tell me I’m pathetic for wanting to be this close, to feel—”  Xander cut off briskly and pressed his face into Spike’s chest, heedless of the mess he was making of Spike’s clothes.

“Safe?” Spike suggested, hands running soothingly over the human’s taut neck muscles, his tense shoulders.  The shoulders shrugged, and Spike’s fingers came to Xander’s chin, tilted the troubled face up, and his mouth settled over the worst cut, the one above Xander’s right eyebrow.  He felt the moment when Xander was bound to throw him off come and go, and he worked his tongue over and into the ragged cut, cleaning the wound and making the most of the tiny amount of blood that flowed.

“Do I taste good?” Xander asked amid shivers that exposed his shock at the events of the past twelve hours; despite the circumstances Spike suspected there was a smile behind the words.

“Mmm.  Human – and you just about count as that – delicious.  Distinct aftertaste of decidedly cheap booze, but we’ve all been there, eh?”

Spike’s mouth gently skittered over Xander’s flesh, seeking out any more blood, licking up and spitting out the last specks of dirt that had clung to Xander’s face when he’d hit the floor during the fight.  Lastly the vampire took extraordinary care over the graze at the outer corner of Xander’s left eyelids, his ministrations more like the tenderest kisses than first aid.

As brazen as Xander was about the disfigurement, two minutes into the treatment Spike felt hands crawling up his back, felt the anxious tremor in them, and once again he let himself be manoeuvred closer, this time into a bonafide hug.  His fingers combed through Xander’s tangled hair, unravelling knots until the passage was snag-free, and he kept stroking, stroking and fussing, with a reassuring touch that Xander began to press into.

“Stop fighting me, Xander,” Spike eventually dipped his head to whisper.  “Let me keep you safe.”

Xander groaned in what sounded like…disappointment?  Embarrassment?

“Is it wrong for a man to want that?”

Spike’s fingertips played with the softest hair at the nape of Xander’s neck.

“Aren’t you used to being weaker than the people around you?”

“Great, thanks.”

“It was an observation.  An observation doesn’t immediately become an insult because it comes from me.”

Pause.  Sigh.

“Okay, yes, the people around me in the past were stronger, but…  I’ve still never felt safe.”

Stroking, combing, stroking.

“I can help you with that.  If you like you can pretend it’s just because of being needed for this whatnot we’ve got ourselves into.”

“I’m needed for this mission so I have to be protected?”

“That’s it.  I want to keep you safe.”  Spike nuzzled Xander’s temple, virtually anaesthetising the man with his calming words and actions.  “And I will.”

“Just…because.  Not…the rest.”

“That’s right.  When the job’s done you can get yourself kicked into next week or rot in any hell of your choosing for all I care.”

“That’s a relief.”

Spike chuckled and fussed.

“I used to enjoy it: being the protector.  After a century of looking after someone it’s sort of…ingrained.”

“We all like to feel needed,” Xander mumbled.

“Yes, and if I want to protect you that doesn’t mean you’re weak, because you’re not, you’re a real battler, everyone knows it.  Brave too.  Foolishly brave at times.”

“I’ve always tried.  I’ve had to try.”

“And there’s no shame to it.  There’s always someone stronger.  We all get to confront that.”

Despite his encouraged lassitude, Xander made himself pull back and look into Spike’s face, seeing a relaxed expression that he guessed reflected his own.

“Would you allow it?  Allow yourself to be weaker and need protection?”

“Have done, haven’t I?  Whether it was Dru feeding me when I was stuck in that sodding wheelchair, or being reliant on the slayer and you lot for blood when I was first chipped.  Plenty of times.  Just a case of getting on with it.”  That reminder and Xander was waking up, enough to feel bad about the past when he considered the situation he was now in, with the former bane of his existence vowing to be his protector.  “You’re so predictable,” Spike smiled.  “How about…”  His fingers moved in Xander’s hair, circling, mesmerising.  “We forget the past – me trying to kill you, you letting me starve – and agree to play nicely now.  If only to keep you alive long enough to save the world.”

“I wish you’d been there tonight.  Let’s see those bastards take on a sober guy without a blind side.”

“You only have to give me a nod, Xander, and I’ll skin ‘em alive for you,” Spike offered in a tone that was usually reserved for words of love.

“No, Spike.  No reprisals.  Promise me.”

“Course, Pet.  No reprisals.  Whatever you say.”

Xander nodded, accepting that particularly insincere agreement, and Spike’s mouth crept back to the damage he’d been diverted from.  Exercising the greatest care he explored the graze beside the withered eyelids and, after an edgy moment of Xander clasping Spike’s back so hard the vampire felt the human’s nails sinking into his flesh, Xander began to relax again.  To allow.  And soon his entire world had focused to lick, stroke, lick, stroke.

Manifestation 9       Manifestation Index       Manifestation Notes

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