Three in the morning and Spike was half-awake.  He’d been waiting for this and was ready when Xander began to stir fitfully before jerking to consciousness.  Within seconds Xander was clinging to him and the vampire was stroking and shushing.

“Spike?”

“You’re all right, love.”

“Where are we?”

“Sunnydale.  At Willow’s.”

“I should be home.”

“It’s for your birthday, remember?”

“Birthday?”

“Sunday.  Tomorrow.”

“And we’re in…Sunnydale.”

“But we can go home whenever you want.  This minute.  Into the car and drive home.  We’re not trapped here, Xander, we can go home whenever you want to.”

Xander seemed reassured by that and he relaxed slightly into Spike’s embrace.  A few minutes later…

“Where are we?”

“Willow’s.  Sunnydale.”

“Willow’s.  ‘Kay, I remember.  Willow’s.”  Xander leant up on one elbow, studying Spike intently in the half-light.  “Are you okay?”

“Me?” Spike asked in surprise.  “I’m fine.”

“Thought maybe…”  Xander laid down again, tightening his grip until it was painful.

Spike persuaded Xander’s arm to loosen up a little.

“What did you think?”

“That you weren’t…” Xander’s voice shook with emotion but he hastily swallowed it down.  “Nothing.  Nothing’s wrong.  It must have been a dream.”

“Yeah, that’s all it was.”

“You won’t ever leave me, will you?”

“Never.”

“I can’t…I can’t live without you.”

“Don’t have to, love.  Now…”  Spike began to purr.  “Nice thoughts and back to sleep.”

“Nice thoughts?”

“Think of…being together in the back of the car.”  Xander gave a contented noise of assent; Spike smiled and buried a kiss in his hair.  “Or the garden.  You and Hame racing around in the sunshine.  Night, and you and me laying in the grass.  Star-gazing.  The studio, and you looking glorious for me as I paint you.  Or take pictures.”  Spike laughed lightly at his own memories of that.  “Always hard.  Always hard around you.”

“I want that.”

“I’ve noticed.”  Another kiss.  “Playing your piano.  You’re getting good at that.”

“You haven’t picked up that guitar yet.”

“I will.”  Xander nodded and began to doze, once again jolting awake after a few minutes and peering to check on Spike.  “What is it?”

“Just…  I can’t live without you.”

Xander let himself be soothed and after a while fell into a thankfully deep sleep, leaving Spike alert and considering that heartfelt phrase.

Wondering if Xander knew something he didn’t.

Wondering if Xander being unable to live without him was indeed fact rather than sentiment.

...

Spike listened as the key turned in the lock, recognising Xander’s footfalls, quickly making himself appear not obsessed with Xander’s safety but thoroughly intrigued by what he was reading in Willow’s newspaper.

Straight to him, sitting on the arm of the chair, and Xander’s hand tilted up his face for a kiss.

“Hi.”

“Hello, love.  Where have you been?”  As if I didn’t know.

Xander rose, his back to Spike.  A few thought-filled minutes and he turned.

“I…umm…went to the cemetery.”

Spike nodded and wondered if he would get away with launching into the interrogation he felt was quite justified; he also wanted to allow Xander his privacy but…  No good, he had to ask.

“You okay?”

“Yeah.  I am actually.”

“Want to talk about it?”

“No.”

Spike knew that tone: give Xander a while to think and it would all come pouring out.  He returned his attention to his newspaper, pretending to read, and waiting.  Xander made coffee for them, turned the TV on and flicked around the channels for a few minutes.  Checked out the news to make sure the world wasn’t ending and, yes, he did still genuinely do that, watched a few minutes of football, a few minutes of soap, a few longer minutes of MTV, then the set was off and silence happened.  Spike ran a countdown in his head to…

“I promised them I’d try to love them.  It’s been…hard.  But I thought if I could find one memory for each of them, one moment when I knew I loved them, it would be…  Well, no, maybe it wouldn’t be enough, but it would be something,  Something more than I had.

“I didn’t go to the grave, I just sat outside the cemetery and thought about them.  Really thought about them – y’know, that kind of thinking that lets someone be alive for just a little while even when you know in your heart they’re gone.”  Xander gave a thin laugh.  “Don’t have to tell you how difficult it was to find something to love about Dad.  Even a moment.”

Xander fell silent again and Spike couldn’t help the prompt.

“But you did?”

Xander smiled gratefully.

“I did.  When I was young there was this kid who lived along the street from me, you know the type: classical bully, always picking on the smaller kids, name-calling, minor rough stuff.  He made the most of me ‘cause I was always hanging out with Willow, and this one time he was taunting me, saying he’d tell the other kids at school that I dressed up like a girl to play with Wills, and I got mad and tried to hit him.  He lost his temper and gave me a bloody nose, and was about to stomp me into the kerb, when my dad showed up for no reason and saw what was happening.  He told this kid to back off, not to pick a fight with his boy or else, basically terrified him.  God knows why Dad did it; usual style would be laughing ‘cause I got knocked around and calling me a sissy for not being able to stick up for myself.”

“The boy behave after that?”

“Yeah.  Resentfully,” Xander chuckled.  “So, there’s a nice, unlikely thought.  My dad sticking up for me.  I wish I knew why he did, but…”  Xander shrugged and sipped his lukewarm coffee.  “You remember much about your father?”

“Not much.”

Xander paused to let Spike reveal more if he wanted to; he apparently didn’t want to.  He simply folded the paper, put it aside, and waited with interest for Xander to continue.

“Mom was easier.  But I wanted to find a moment from when I was grown up, not a kid.  When it would have really meant something special.”

“You manage that?”

Xander nodded.

“It was after I let Anya down, right when everyone felt I was the biggest loser in the world history of losers.  No-one had any sympathy for me, but I was hurting.  Knowing what I’d done to her, what I’d done to myself; scared that I might have blown my only chance of having someone who really loved me, because she did.”

“I know that.”

“Anyway, I was at the apartment and my folks came by, and Dad was carrying on and on about how useless I was, but when he left the room for a few minutes my mom came to where I was sitting and she put her arms around me.  Didn’t say a word, didn’t have to.  She just held me for long enough for me to know that I was absolutely right in what I’d done, that I’d taken away any risk that I would end up making Anya as unhappy as he’d made her.  I knew I’d never raise a hand to Anya, no matter what that demon showed me, but I looked at that relationship and saw us getting to a point where we were so miserable together but holding on because I was terrified to let go, and she’d learnt that particularly stupid lesson in humanity from me.”  Xander stopped for breath.  “But my mom was saying I was okay, that I did the right thing.  And she’s the only one I can remember doing that for a long time.”

“She said nothing,” Spike reiterated with evident disapproval.

“That’s not the point.”

“Maybe it is to me.  It wouldn’t have hurt her to say it.  ‘I love you, Xander.’  It’s bloody easy.”

“She couldn’t.”

“I love you, Xander.”

“Yeah, but she…”  Xander’s expression softened as Spike rose and sauntered across the room to him.  “I know you do.”

“I love you, Xander,” and Spike was pressing Xander back into his seat and straddling his lap.  “I love you.”  Spike’s hands lingered over Xander’s hair and face before he leant in for a kiss.  “I love you.”

“You make up for them,” Xander assured his partner.  “Without even trying you’re better to me.  For me.”

“But you needed to make your peace.”

“Yeah.”

“And you have?”

“I think I have.  I feel happier for it.  Or not happier but…  Less troubled.  Verging on untroubled.”

“Ready to move on?”

Xander nodded.

“Just finding those good moments is helping me let go of all the old resentment.  And I need to do that.  I can’t affect them anymore, but I can affect me, and I have been.”  Xander slid his arms around Spike and pulled him into a hug.  “No more.  I accept that there are questions I’ll never have answers to: I’ll never understand what made my dad the man he was and why I had to suffer for that; I’ll never know if there was something I could have done to change the way we were.”  Xander laughed to himself as he thought.  “I wish now I’d had the chance to introduce you to them.  They wouldn’t have approved in any way, shape or form, but it would have been nice to show them how lucky their asshole son got.”

“Mmm…arse…” Spike murmured appreciatively and Xander laughed aloud at that.  “You’re okay then, love?” Spike asked as he sat up to study Xander.

“I am.”

“Staying in this afternoon?”

“Yeah, think so.”

“Right.  In that case I can go and sleep without worrying about where you are.”

“Want me to come to bed with you?  Just so you know exactly where I am.”

“Later.  I’ll get some sleep, you catch up with Red…”  Spike nodded toward the door, and Xander understood immediately that Willow must be waiting to talk to him.  “…then we can do whatever you want this evening.”  He leant in to whisper.  “Have to finish the spell, but other than that…”  Xander turned his head sharply and caught Spike’s mouth with his own, and Spike understood that the sudden urgency was about the memory of the spell, of Spike being in pain.  “It’s not like the first part,” Spike explained as he finally managed to dodge Xander’s attentions.

“No?”

“Doesn’t hurt, I barely know anything’s happening.”

“You’re not just saying that to make me feel better?” Xander asked suspiciously.

“I promise.  No pain.  You can still mollycoddle me for an hour afterwards if it’ll make you feel better.”

“Yeah, may just have to.”

Spike’s voice dropped back to the whisper.

“I also promise that I’ll be in control.  No hurting you.  No hurting any humans.”

“Within reason.  I may need you to knock some sense into Buffy before we leave.”

“Give the girl a break, will you?”

“Why do you keep jumping to defend her?”

“I’m not.”

“Do you know something that I don’t?”

“Umm…  Do you know how to remove a man’s spine, vertebrae by vertebrae?”

“Oooookay, so glad I asked.”

Spike snickered and removed himself from Xander’s lap.

“Tell me if you go out.”

“You’re obviously tired so, no, I won’t wake you.”

They shared a quick glare before Spike stole a kiss and went off to catch up on his lost sleep.

Xander made fresh coffee and Willow appeared as if by magic to share.  She surreptitiously – but not quite surreptitiously enough - checked out Xander’s neck and for a brief moment he was irrationally angry at her expression of relief that the damage was healing well.  He decided to change the unspoken subject.  Although it was barely a change bearing in mind his last few minutes with Spike.

“Stuck in a loop here, but why won’t Buffy go to LA?”

The hesitation was more telling than the answer.

“She told you.  Because of Dawn.”

Xander nodded thoughtfully while not believing that was the entire truth for a second.

“And what’s the real reason?  Anything to do with why the mansion has been refurbished but Angel isn’t living there?”  Willow shrugged and left the kitchen for the living room, Xander in dogged pursuit.  “When we went out last night she told me to take care.”

“I tell you to take care.”

“You don’t flash a look at our vampiric kin and tell specifically me to take care in a voice they’re not meant to hear.”

Willow curled up in an armchair and took her time before saying another word.

“Angel offered to move here when it became clear there were delays getting Dawn to LA.”

“Good solution.  So…?”

“Buffy says Angel has changed.  And she doesn’t like the effect the Hellmouth has on him.”

“Yeah, I understand that.  Because he’s more in tune with his demon the Hellmouth would…”

“It’s true then?”

“Wait, wait, let me try and remember how Spike put it.”  Xander cast his mind back and picked through a few dozen comments until he found the pertinent one.  “He’s truer to himself, that’s what Spike said.  He felt it made Angel a lot less dangerous because family was allowed to come first.  He doesn’t have to stop and consider his actions because of the promise of redemption.”

“I’m not sure Buffy can see it like that.  It’s almost too simple.”

“I don’t blame her for being scared of Angelus, but this version of Angel is an okay guy.”

“But unpredictable.”

“And she’s usually so drawn to safe,” Xander grinned.  Willow threw him a twinkling look in appreciation of that.  “Unpredictable isn’t always bad.  None of us could have predicted how Angel would be after Spike was hurt, but he’s turned out to be something Spike needed very badly.”

“What if that’s the only positive example?”

“You don’t opt for predictability when you take on a vampire,” Xander stated the obvious.  “Buffy knows that, and when she’s stops picking apart the changes in him, she’ll be fine.  He can be scary, sure, but so can she.  And he truly loves her.”

“Does Spike ever scare you?”

Despite the knee-jerk denial that very nearly burst from him, Xander forced himself to consider the question.

“He has done.  I know he’s more than capable of it, and rightly so.  But I’m not scared of him, no.  Now the claiming is formal I feel more secure than I ever have in my life.”

“Yes, but…”

Xander waited as Willow had a brief internal argument with herself over what she wanted to say.

“But…?”

“That bite yesterday.  That was…excessive.”

“It just looked bad because it was bite upon bite, y’know, heat of the moment.  Spike wouldn’t do something like that without me wanting it, or without knowing it would heal in a couple of days.  And no, there won’t be a scar; it has to be a really deep bite to make a scar, and this wasn’t, despite how it looked.”

“It must have hurt.”

“The pleasure overwhelms any pain, I promise you.  Then again the whole experience is extraordinary, and…that’s all you’re getting.”  He saw Willow fight the urge to ask the other several hundred related questions that begged for an airing, and he smiled behind the mug as he sipped his coffee.  “Don’t you think you should start running tests or something?” he teased, turning the subject back around.  “Xander Harris here, arguing the case for Angel.”

“The loyalty of the Order,” Willow said with a theatrical and wholly fake sigh.

Xander’s smile became somewhat sadder.

“Family,” he said quietly, thoughts returning to his morning; as he drew breath to share his ruminations with his friend it was as if he ran headfirst into a wall of exhaustion.

Willow watched Xander wilt; her accurate guess about where he’d spent the last few hours left her with no doubts about the draining effects of the excursion itself, and now the lifting of tension.  If that was all it was.  Once again she battled with her conscience, not entirely sure of whether to pursue such a sensitive subject, but if this was Xander’s wellbeing what could she do?

“Xander?”

“Yeah, awake,” Xander announced briskly as he snatched himself back from the brink of sleep.

“There’s something we need to talk about.”

“That sounds bad.”

“Not necessarily.”

“Is that why you’re trying not to look intensely uncomfortable?  ‘Cause of the not necessarily badness?  The bullshit face needs a little work, Will.”

Willow took a deep breath and picked her way through a minefield of wrong words to try and find the right ones.

“I accept that the bites are welcome, and that Spike wouldn’t force them on you.”

“But?” Xander asked, already suspicious and defensive.

“You seem very tired.  I was wondering if, maybe, he was taking too much blood from you.”  Xander remained silent, staring at his coffee mug, and Willow delicately pressed on.  “If you could tell me how much, and how often, maybe I could hit the books and find out what’s safe.”  Xander looked up, turning a furious glare on Willow and she began to back-peddle.  “Not that I think he’d deliberately…”

“No,” Xander snapped.  “He doesn’t take too much blood.  What do you think he is, some fuckwitted fledge?”

“No, Xander, I…”

“He doesn’t hurt me, he doesn’t harm me.  No-one has ever cared about me the way he does.”  Willow winced at that direct and unintentionally spiteful hit to everything they’d ever had as friends, but Xander was too angry to notice.  “And you’ll have to believe me because you’re not turning us into some fucking case study for your damn Council.”

“This is nothing to do with the Council,” Willow protested.  “This is about my friend looking grey and worn out.”

“I work damn hard, long hours, and I hate being away from home.  I don’t sleep well anywhere but there, naturally I’m tired.  Just had a really difficult morning and…  Oh, forget it.”

Xander rose and made for the door; Willow swiftly followed and caught his arm.

“Please, Xander, I can’t help but worry about you.”

“Do you carry on like this with Buffy?  When she’s had a bad day do you instantly think that Angel’s sucking her dry?”

“They don’t have the same kind of relationship as you and Spike, you said that yourself.”

“If you can’t trust me then maybe you should talk to her.  It may have been the result of a spell but Spike loved her once, and she’ll tell you that when Spike loves you you’re the most precious thing in his existence, and you never doubt that.  He’s caring and thoughtful and consumed by protecting what’s his.  If she can be honest she’ll tell you that and maybe you can believe her.”

“I believe it, I do,” Willow promised, taking Xander’s hands and trying to calm him.  “I know how much he cares about you, and this wouldn’t be because he wants to harm you.  Can you blame me for being worried?  It’s like yesterday…”

“Long drive and I’m not meant to get tired?”

“Spike drove and he said you slept almost all the way.  When you were waiting for Spike to finish his talk with Angel you looked like the moment you stopped moving you were going to pass out.”

“Okay, I’m sleepy so Spike must be abusing me.  Fine, glad we’ve established that.”  Xander tugged his hands free and stepped toward the door.  “I’ll go fetch the callous bastard and we’ll get out of here.”

“No, Xander, that isn’t what I want at all.  If this were the other way around…”

“I’d listen!”

A brittle silence followed Xander’s furious shout.  Willow backed off and went to sit down, still worried, but only now understanding quite how impossible it was to talk to Xander about this rationally.  He was – maybe justifiably considering the past – too protective of everything he shared with his lover.

Time passed and Xander didn’t leave the room.  Willow let a seed of hope grow in her that they could mend this now and save the remainder of the weekend, but that was dashed when Xander came and crouched alongside her.  Once this proximity would have meant a private joke or a shared confidence, but now…

“Willow,” Xander began in a quietly frigid voice.  “If I find out that you’ve documented any of Spike’s recent life, our time together, anything private to us…”  He paused, fought down the anger.  “Just…don’t let me find out.”

Xander stood and left, leaving Willow’s heart pounding at that warning.  Scared of Xander, no.  Scared of losing Xander, resounding yes.  What Xander didn’t know…might turn out to be a disaster.  Listening for further movement and hearing none, Willow hurried to her study, locking the door behind her and booting up the computer.  Day by day, line by line, she began to sift through her private and watcher journals, assiduously deleting every reference to Xander and/or Spike that might be considered intrusive.

…

Spike roused himself and peered at Xander, finally figuring out that his partner was packing not just throwing stuff around the room in a temper.

“What?” he asked.

“Willow.”

“And?”

“She’s worried about us.  Me.  You taking blood from me.”

“And?”

“She thinks you’re damaging me.”

Spike pushed himself up on his elbows and watched Xander pace.

“She said that?  Those words?”

“Not those words, no, but…”

“Oh, right.  Showing concern about your admittedly dodgy lifestyle.  Showing you she cares.  That’s a bad, wicked Willow.”

“She thinks you’re draining me.”

“I’m a vampire, love, she has the right to be wary.”

“You’re not a vampire, you’re you.  Not one and the same, and she should know better.”

“True.  But your safety is always going to be paramount to her, I can’t fault her for that.”

“Why are you so damn reasonable about them?”

“Because I saw the years when they didn’t have you.  Think I was the only one with a broken heart and so many regrets I was choking on them?  Course they’re over-protective now, they’re terrified of losing you again.”

Xander faltered.  Sat heavily on the end of the bed.

“I wasn’t lost.  I was in touch.  With Willow.  Always.”

“When she phoned you.  When you’d occasionally pick up.  Christmas card doesn’t make up for losing twenty years of closeness.”  Xander gave a weary, defeated sigh, and Spike gave him a poke with his toes.  “We going home then?”

“I was…  Just thinking, maybe move to a motel.”

“Not a chance.”

“What?  Another lecture on preserving friendship from the evil undead?”

“I was thinking more of the lecture that goes: unfamiliar surroundings, Seattle effect, terrified Xander, no sex for Spike…”

“Okay, not a motel.”

“The choice is home or here, and I’m stopping until I see the Bit.  So I suggest you come to bed with me, have a nice kip, and things’ll seem better when you wake up.”

With a show of reluctance he didn’t genuinely feel, Xander did as he was told, stripping off and crawling into bed beside his lover, quickly finding himself wrapped in vampire as Spike sought to comfort his lover and also exploit the best source of heat he’d ever found.

“She didn’t mean any harm,” Xander admitted.  “Like Buffy last night.”

“No.”

“I can’t help but…  Overreact.  I don’t want people who can’t understand interfering with us.  I just want us to be left alone.”

“Alone now, love.”

Spike began to mimic the soothing touches Xander had used on him a thousand times, purring gently until he successfully sent himself back to sleep.

Settling and dozing and drifting, Xander’s mind escaped Sunnydale; it knew the sound of the sea, the scent of crushed grass, the whip of frigid wind.

The impact of fire.

Time and again Xander found himself inexplicably jolted into wakefulness; time and again Xander found himself wishing he were home.

…

Xander discovered Willow in the kitchen later as she distractedly made dinner.  They took a single look at each other and fell into one another’s arms amid a torrent of garbled apologies.

Spike watched from the doorway and sighed.  He may have wanted to be moved by the display, but all that stirred was his hunger.  Heartfelt reconciliations to rescue lifelong friendships were absolutely fine.  Providing they didn’t get between him, the fridge and the microwave.

…

That evening the second part of the spell was performed, and Spike had been completely honest regarding its physical effects: no pain, negligible apparent impact.  But knowing he was once again free from the threat of the chip filled Spike with explosive energy and he insisted on Xander and Angel accompanying him to anywhere they could think of where he’d get the chance to join in a ruckus, or kill off a few non-humans of any description.

Angel made a quick call to Buffy and she joined them for a patrol around the most demonically productive cemeteries.  Although she initially seemed a little suspicious at her inclusion, that was soon lost amid the good humour and brawling, and if she wondered about the cause of Spike’s manic exuberance it wasn’t aloud.

Xander was disappointed that none of the vampires they’d come across seemed to have noticed his status as Spike’s consort.

“Can’t expect fledges to notice much, love.  We’ll find something a little older and you’ll see the difference.”

“Wait…  You’re going looking for vampires to check out the claim?” Buffy asked incredulously.

“I want to know it works,” Xander told her with a mischievous smile.  “Make sure Spike got it right.”

“Oi!”

“Spike got it right,” Angel reassured him.

“You can sense it?”  Angel nodded.  “But maybe that’s because you’re family.”

“It’s not because I’m family.  To me – to any vampire – you smell like…”  Angel drifted around Xander, scenting him, making the hairs on the back of Xander’s neck stand up.  “…like you bathed in Spike’s blood and semen.  Very distinctive.”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed, not bothering to wonder why the statement made him want to jump Spike on the spot.  “That would be…distinctive.”  Xander turned to see Buffy’s yuk face.  “You can’t smell anything?”

“I’m not getting close enough to find out.”

“Test subjects,” Spike growled, narrowing his vision to study what looked like nothing more than shadows to Xander.  “Go ahead, Xan.  I won’t let them hurt you.”

With an insanely happy – or possibly merely insane – grin, Xander left their protection and wandered along the road past the latest cemetery, casually going nowhere and waiting for company.  He didn’t have to wait long.  One of the vampires stepped out in front of him, blocking his path.

“Well, well, well.  Someone delivered breakfast,” he purred as he sauntered closer.

Xander sensed the second vampire closing in on him from behind, and he waited expectantly, almost giving in to the urge to bounce joyfully when the first vampire stopped abruptly and drew air into his mouth, checking out Xander’s scent.

“Consort,” a female voice at his back hissed.

“That’s right,” Xander confirmed, letting the smug grin break out.  “How sensitive are you to it?  Can you recognise my master?  Tell which Order I belong to?”

The male vampire looked a little surprised at the questions, stopped to consider, the female joining him to debate, game faces and predatory manner entirely gone.  They decided Xander’s was an old master, and argued over the Order for a few minutes while Xander listened with amused interest.  No conclusions though and hunger eventually got the better of them.  They apologised for troubling him and wandered off, now discussing which of their old acquaintances they’d choose if they decided to take a consort.  Before they could decide over Junie, who had always slipped him free raisin toast with his coffee, and Denis, who deserved to be eternally punished for standing her up on prom night, Buffy had caught up with them and dispatched them with ruthless efficiency.

“Better?” Spike asked as he came and slipped an arm around Xander’s waist.

“Would’ve liked something more dramatic,” Xander confessed, and Spike sniggered and playfully nipped his ear.

Xander was sent ahead for a second time.  The irony wasn’t lost on him: after spending most of his Sunnydale years trying to avoid close contact with vampires he was now actively – willingly – playing bait, but he strolled along and listened carefully for an approach.  Couldn’t miss this one: the vampire burst from the surrounding greenery and leapt at Xander, snarling ferociously as it immediately lunged for his throat.  Years of training were not wasted, and Xander used the creature’s own momentum to swing him around and to the ground, taking a few steps back to give himself space to manoeuvre when the vampire sprang to its feet.  Up, shaking its head as if stunned, the vampire took a few seconds to re-focus, and once again pounced.  Xander wedged his forearm into the vampire’s throat and held it off for the few seconds it took for his scent to permeate his attacker’s senses.

“Aurelius?” the demon said quizzically, now evidently dithering over the wisdom of continuing its attack.

“You know what they say,” Xander told him.  “He who hesitates…”

“…is dust,” Spike finished for him as the body between them became a shower of ash.  “Dramatic enough for you?”

Before Xander had a chance to answer, Spike was wheeling around, literally baying for blood as he dove into the darkness and proceeded to tear into a fledgling that had been careless enough to emerge while Spike was in ultra-protective boyfriend mode.  Buffy and Angel checked out the rest of the cemetery as Xander leant against a tombstone and watched admiringly as his partner took his time and knocked merry hell out of the newly risen demon, finally ripping the vampire’s head from its neck with a flourish.

Out of the corner of her eye Buffy saw Xander tackle Spike and roll him to the ground; assuming the action was a protective one, she took off in their direction at speed to eliminate the threat.  But she arrived to find Xander pinning Spike down as he kissed him silly.

“Do you need rescuing, Spike?” she asked with a poorly suppressed smile.  “Before Xander sucks your lungs out?”

Xander laughed as he was spun, finding himself in Spike’s previous position, considering whether he should be mortified that an upside-down Buffy was amusedly observing his highly aroused boyfriend suckling at his neck and attempting to grind him into the grave they were lying on.  Still, there wasn’t time to make up his mind before Angel appeared, grabbing Spike and lifting him bodily off of Xander.  Xander’s protestation failed to emerge as he saw the grim expression on the older vampire’s face, reminding Xander that he’d had, at his throat, an unchipped Spike who had recently enjoyed a mindless post-spell killing spree in celebration of this particular state of being.  But Xander felt no fear, not with Spike; Angel saw that and relaxed a little.  Spike shrugged off his grandsire’s hands and reached out for Xander, pulling him to his feet, steadying him as his head buzzed protestingly at the rapid rise.

“Okay, love?” Spike frowned.

Xander brushed aside the concern…

“Sure, just got up too fast.”  …but the lapse somehow allowed the too-familiar weariness to catch up.  “Walk me back to the car?  I think I’ll call it a night.”

Ignoring their present company, Spike slid an arm around Xander’s back and they began a leisurely stroll in the direction of the Mercedes, Xander leaning in to his lover, teasing and nuzzling until Spike had no choice but to stop in the middle of the street and climb inside Xander’s coat to find handfuls of lovely body to fondle.

“You really have to go home now?” Spike asked as he worked his hand into the back of Xander’s pants.

“Home?” Xander repeated longingly.

“Willow’s.  Home here, Willow’s.

“I, um…  Yeah, I…  Will you behave yourself?”  Spike switched on the innocence.  “And don’t give me that look, I don’t want your fingers in me in the street.”

Spike groaned excitedly, rubbing the prominent bulge at his groin into Xander’s hip.

“I’d fuck you right here, given half the chance.”

“Not half a chance, not a quarter, not a micro-fraction of a chance, pal.”

“Love you, Xan.”

“Yeah, always comes back to that, you must think I’m a total…  Spike, no!”

Xander physically removed the offending hand and returned it to its owner.  Seconds later Spike was back, gnawing at Xander’s neck.

“I’ll have you later.  Get you hard, make you beg for me.”

“I don’t doubt it.”

“Inside you, get inside you, fill you up and come inside you, make you mine.”

“I am yours, Spike.”

“Mine.”

Spike manoeuvred Xander to a darker part of the street, wedging him into a corner of fence and wall, tugging open the fly of his pants despite Xander’s concentrated attempts to stop him.

“What is wrong with you?” he gasped as Spike dropped to his knees and immediately took Xander’s semi-erect cock into his mouth.  “Oh, fuck, Spike, not here, not…”

The fierce degree of suction was enough to make Xander buckle, and he clung to his surroundings in an effort to remain upright, but as Spike dragged his pants down his legs, fingers returning to probe between Xander’s cheeks, Xander realised with some shock that if he didn’t stop this right now, Spike would do exactly as he’d said and fuck him in the street.

It took every last ounce of strength on Xander’s part to force the vampire away from him and, after a sustained tussle, Spike stood back, panting and scowling, repeatedly licking his lips and peevishly watching Xander dress himself.

“This is so not good,” Xander complained.  “You want me, you come back to Willow’s, come back to the car at least, and you can have me, but here…”

“Later,” Spike snapped, already walking away.

“Spike,” Xander called after him, only to receive a dismissive wave that Spike didn’t even glance over his shoulder to give.

Xander wasted a whole twenty seconds feeling hard done by, then a laugh broke from him as he thought of his Spike – Big Bad – whole and invincible, stalking the streets of Sunnydale again after so many years.  He resumed the walk to his car, feeling pretty invincible himself.  Consort.  Consort to William the Bloody.  Unfortunately he didn’t encounter a soul – or a non-soul – as he went, and wistfully regretted that there were no further opportunities to test his new status.

Once in the car the exhaustion hit him hard.  Irresponsible to drive feeling that way, so he got comfortable and promised himself a five-minute doze, just to perk him up enough to get back to Willow’s without being lethal to either himself or fellow road users.  The second he closed his eyes he was asleep; the dreams rushed in, pounded at him, filling his heart with loss and his head with flame.  Longer than five minutes and Xander awoke with a start, shocked by the strangeness.  He clung to the steering wheel in front of him and gazed around in complete confusion.  Lost.

“I want to go home,” he whispered to no-one.

But he couldn’t figure out how, he couldn’t even figure out where.  Panic came and went, tears welled and subsided.  He sat and shivered as he gazed into the night.  Lost.  He needed…

“William?”

The ability to drive came automatically; Xander started the car and eased it onto the road, heading…nowhere.  Lost and searching.

…

All quiet at Willow’s when Spike returned and let himself in through the back door, slinking through the gloom and hugging the weak pools of light from the watcher’s considerately left-on lamps, senses tingling uncomfortably as he made his way up the dark staircase to his and Xander’s room.

No respite as he carefully opened the door and quietly stepped inside; his senses kept tingling and it took less than a second for it to sink in that Xander wasn’t there.  Unaware of his immediate reaction, but whatever it was it brought Willow at a run.

“No Xander,” Spike repeated continuously, caught in a mindless panic until Willow managed to sit him down and shake him out of it.

“I thought he was with you.”

“I thought he came back here.”

“When?”

“When…  Midnight maybe.  Oh, fuck, what have I done?”

“Yes, what have you done?  Where did you see him last?  Did you walk him to his car?”

“I—  Yes.  No.  No.  We started and then he went…  And I went…”

“You left him alone, at night, in Sunnydale?” Willow demanded, voice quivering with anger.  “He was defending you earlier, swearing you’d never do anything to hurt him.”

“I didn’t, I—”

Spike rose and shoved past her, taking the stairs four at a time, running through the house and into the street.  He looked around hopelessly, weighed down by despair and guilt, hands fumbling over his cell as he called Xander’s phone despite knowing he’d be put through to voicemail.  He didn’t have the words for a message and quickly switched off his cell.

“Love, I’m so sorry,” he murmured into the night, wracking his brain for where to start looking.

The car.  Spike remembered where Xander had parked up.  He took off at a run in the direction of where he’d last seen the Merc.

It was with relief that Spike found the car had gone; the probability was that Xander had reached it safely.  Maybe the longing for home had been too great and he’d just started driving in that direction and been unable to stop.  Or maybe not.  Spike threw back his head and breathed in, scenting the air; he could still smell the Merc, a hint of Xander, and even if he suspected he was imagining them it gave him hope.  Then…a stronger smell, distant but unmistakeable.  It made him shudder apprehensively but he began walking, jogging, running full pelt toward it in the hope that he was right.  Or possibly hoping he was wrong.

Smoke.  Fire.

He sped through the deserted streets and out into the lesser inhabited belt around Sunnydale, able now to see swirls and plumes in the sky where the moonlight was bouncing off the thick smoke.  Seeking the source, Spike found himself in a picnic area, virtually running into the haphazardly parked Merc because his attention was entirely fixed on the crackle of burning wood that he heard/felt at the periphery of his senses.  He swept a hand over the roof of the car, just to know it was there and real, and not some illusion that merely existed to taunt him.  Moving with still greater urgency he scented the air again and again, picking up traces of Xander amidst the choking wood smoke, finally seeing a familiar figure silhouetted against the glowing timbers of a burning refreshments hut.

“Xander?” he called, approaching more warily now, not wanting to startle his human.  “Xander, love, it’s me.  Spike.”

He witnessed the physical reaction to Xander hearing him, the stiffening of posture, the first step.  The second step.  With a horrified yell, Spike leapt forward as Xander began a determined walk into the flames, seizing him around the waist and dragging him to safety, expecting a struggle that didn’t happen and holding on so tightly that it would have been an impossibility for Xander to escape.  The body in his arms became quite limp, and Spike let them crumple to the ground, still clinging to his lover, needlessly shushing, purring spasmodically, fighting back tears of rage and fear.

“My fault, my fault,” he muttered between bouts of intense trembling.  “Fucking useless.  Bad childe.  Wrong!”

He threw off his coat and laid Xander on it, stroking and kissing his face until brown eyes flickered open.  A seemingly ageless and torturous moment before Spike saw the recognition in them, and Xander’s expression softened with affection before his eyes closed once again.

“My love,” Spike whispered, “my love, my darling, wake up and want me.  Need you to want me, Xander.”

“Mmm?”

“Want me, Xander.”

Xander forced his eyes open, blinking repeatedly and trying to focus in the flickering light of the burning hut.

“Are we going home?”

“No, love, this is about you forgiving me.  Forgiving and fucking me.”

“Not going home?”

“Not right now.  Unless you mean us, the us that’s home.  The us where we belong.”

A smile flickered over Xander’s lips.

“Home.  Love you, Spike.”

For a moment Spike felt quite weak with relief, then the need to make amends overwhelmed all other emotions.

“Can I have you in me?”

“You do it?”

“Yeah, I’ll do everything, you just…want me.”

“Want you.”

Spike clumsily dragged their clothes off, preparing himself as best he could with saliva and punishing touches that added blood to the slickness; as he did so he leant over Xander’s body, sucking his cock to rigidity, quickly moving to straddle Xander the moment he felt his human was ready.  A low, satisfied growl emerged and his head lolled back in painful pleasure as he forced Xander into his body.  Home indeed.  Reparation.  Good childe.

Xander watched Spike through slitted eyes, feeling the love and the fuck, feeling…grounded.  The beauty of the vampire was quite magical.  Here.  Now.  Xander thrust up possessively and Spike hissed in a breath, battering himself on Xander’s cock, swivelling his hips to ensure he felt thoroughly stretched and used.  He leant back and grasped Xander’s thighs, using the leverage to ride faster, arching his body like an offering and desperate for Xander to touch him even if he knew he was undeserving.

The colours of the flames danced across the milky skin; Xander was mesmerised.  The fire, no longer trapped within his dreams, was quite tantalising, and he turned his head to stare into it, fascinated by its lethal might.  Its cleansing purity.  Spike groaned appreciatively as Xander’s hands slid over his thighs, fingers curling and digging into the flesh, tightening until Spike was whimpering in pain as he manically fucked himself, tightening until nails and fingertips had gouged through skin and into muscle; Spike keened raggedly as the pain escalated, but was unable to prevent the smell of his own blood arousing him further, his cock drooling in testament.

“Please, love, please,” he begged, barely holding his orgasm back and willing Xander to climax and end this torment.

As the hut’s roof collapsed a column of flames shot into the blackness above them.  A vivid spark of blue light flashed within Xander’s eyes as he writhed beneath his lover and sank his fingers deeper, bloody digits buried up to the first knuckle, hearing the vampire’s agonised cries and being compelled to drive up ferociously into the tight channel to empty himself.

Spike gasped and squirmed as Xander came, terrified and exhilarated at the inner sensation of searing heat: it was as if a stream of molten lava had been injected into the core of his being.  Overwhelmed by the intensity of the moment, Spike reared away to escape, only to be yanked back onto Xander as the human bucked beneath him and rammed himself home once more, sending another scorching flood into Spike’s body.  Spike lost any vestige of control, hollering as he was taken and wrung out, untouched cock spurting opalescent streams over Xander’s face and chest and belly.  The fluid glittered brightly in the light, marring Xander’s appearance with thin streaks of fire, and Spike desperately swiped at the disturbing image, hurriedly sweeping his hands across his lover’s flesh and smearing his semen into Xander’s skin: Xander belonged to him, not to the flames.

They fell still, enveloped by a languor that couldn’t be explained by the sex.  Their eyes met and they stared at one another searchingly.  Hollow minutes passed.

With a sickening lurch, Xander realised where his fingers were and carefully withdrew them from Spike’s muscles.

“Oh, God, Spike, I’m sorry.  I don’t know what…  Sorry.”  His voice wavered in shock, and Spike slumped forward onto his chest, unable to stop himself shaking and wholly thankful to hear the sound of his own sweet Xander.  “Sorry, I’m so sorry.”

“Hell of a fuck,” Spike replied hoarsely.

“I hurt you, how did I do that?  I mean, how could I, that’s unforgivable, but how did I?  Like that?  It shouldn’t be possible.”

“Strong,” Spike murmured weakly.  “Too strong.”

“I’m so sorry, Spike.”  Spike shook his head against Xander’s body, prepared to dismiss or ignore any question or hurt if Xander would just keep holding him and making him feel safe, convince him that the haunting mental image of Xander walking into the flames would fade before it sent this susceptible vampire into paroxysms of horror.  “We have to get you back to Willow’s and cleaned up,” Xander insisted, gentle touches urging a reluctant Spike to move.  “C’mon, off me.”

Spike tensed himself for more pain, expecting the sensitivity of burnt and blistered flesh, but Xander slid from his body easily, and the only discomfort came from his wounded thighs.  Xander hurriedly rose and pulled Spike into a hug.

“I’m all right,” Spike promised.

“Can’t believe I hurt you.”

Over Xander’s shoulder, Spike stared at the burning remains.

“Did you do this?  Set this alight?”

“No.  I was…I think I was just driving and saw it.  Pulled in.  Was there a storm earlier?  I thought I saw lightning.”

A sudden tremor ran through Xander and Spike kissed him before pushing him in the direction of his clothes.  They dressed quickly, and Spike firmly took Xander’s hand and led him to the car.

“No storm.  No lightning.”

“This place makes me feel so strange.  I shouldn’t be surprised that I imagined it.”

“That’s right, love,” Spike assured as he took a last look back at the smouldering embers.  “You imagined it all.”

Repossession 106       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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