He’d thought it so many times before but this occasion probably topped the list: Spike had never been so glad to get home since he and Xander and been together.  It was hours since dawn had broken so they were able to pass through the gates of Cedar House with no interference from either Fan or Death Wish Club, and the moment the Merc was within the protection of the ward Spike felt a degree of the anxiety drain from his system, and he muttered a few words of sincere thanks to Patrick for his interference.

A couple of well-placed prods woke Xander, who stretched and slumped, blinked furiously and eventually recognised the inside of their garage.

“I was going to take some of the driving, you should have woken me.”

“Thought you were better off out of it until we got here.”

Eyes having adjusted to the lack of light, Xander noticed the state of Spike and briskly sat up, slowing his actions before delicately turning Spike’s head to face away from him.

“What the fuck…?”

“What’s wrong?”

“Blood all over the back of your head.  And…  You’re filthy.  You smell of…”

“If you don’t remember what happened, the explanation is going to have to wait until I’m fed, clean and have slept for a couple of weeks.”

Spike popped the locks and climbed out of the car, twisting and bending, feeling his joints and muscles creak with relief at the change of position.  Xander soon followed, leaving the passenger door open in the hope that the pervasive odours of smoke and burning would quickly dissipate.

“Spike, you have to tell me…”

“No.”

“There was a fire?  What?  What happened?”

Spike leant on the roof of the car and studied Xander curiously.

“Did you dream?”

Xander frowned as he thought.

“I…umm…”

“What did you dream?”

With a slow shake of the head:

“Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“Nothing.”

“Good,” Spike gave him a strained smile.  “Now shut up about the rest.  C’mon, let’s get inside.”

“Yeah, I’ll just…”  Xander made a move to fetch their luggage.

“It can all wait, love.  Come with me.  Be with me.  Please.  I need you.”

That final unsteadily spoken phrase brought Xander to Spike’s side instantly, and the vampire found himself being hugged and kissed, eyes squeezed defensively shut against exposing Xander to the swell of emotions he knew would be displayed in their depths.  The smell clinging to Xander sparked flashbacks in Spike’s mind, and he tried to push away the memories of Xander against the flames at the same time as he pulled his perfect, whole, non-consumed-by-fire lover close enough restrict his breathing.

The acute need for reassurance rapidly transmuted to an equally urgent need for possession, his possession of Xander to obliterate the memory of that fearsome other, and Xander found himself turned and pushed over the cold hood of Spike’s Jaguar, sweater, pants and boxers torn from his body, legs knocked apart.  Xander heard Spike’s own clothes ripped off as a cool tongue forced its way into his body’s opening, providing scant lubrication for the granite cock that was soon pressing inside.

“God, Spike,” Xander gasped.  “Can’t…can’t you…wait?  Until…  Fuck!”

“Can’t wait, have to have you.”

“Fuck!”

“Sorry, love, have to have you.”

Against his better judgement, Xander reflexively shoved back against the intrusion, moaning as Spike thrust in response, joining them fully, Spike’s hips against Xander’s ass.  They held that position as Xander flailed and grabbed at Spike, keeping him quite still during several tense minutes of acclimatisation.

“I’m gonna be raw if…”

“No,” Spike assured, calming with this contact, “your body’s used to me, you don’t have the perpetual virgin curse.  Relax, open yourself up.”

“I…”

Xander hissed in alarm as Spike bent sideways and caught Xander’s left leg by the calf, tugging it up to kneel on the Jag’s hood.

“There, love,” Spike soothed, hands running over Xander’s buttocks, thumbs teasing their connection.  “Soon be wet enough inside, the scum’s pouring out of me.”

“Fucking hell, Spike, don’t call it that, I hate that!”

Spike sniggered and leant over Xander’s back.

“What do you want then?  Sufficiently moistened by my copious pre-ejaculate?  More flowery?  Tenderly creamed by my manly love juices?  You want me delicately drizzling your sumptuous fairy grotto with…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Xander laughed.  “Shut up, you ass.”

“What was that?  Shove up your arse?  Certainly.”

Spike began to fuck, slowly and considerately, and Xander panicked for all of ten seconds before Spike’s words were proved accurate, and the human’s accommodating body…accommodated.

“Yes,” he hissed as Spike poked in just the right place.

“Good?”

“Uh-huh.”

“Can I fuck you?  Xander?  Really fuck you?”  Xander trembled at the longing in that request, his right leg shaking and about to give way before Spike stopped moving and tilted him a little further onto the Jag for support.  “Want to fuck you so hard you can’t think beyond my prick pounding into you.  Want to fuck you so hard you can’t even breathe to scream for more.”

“Slick,” Xander said resolutely, not willing to risk more than a gentle session without lubricant.

Spike was gone and back in seconds, tube from the car being emptied in one squeeze over Xander’s ass and Spike’s erection.

“Slick,” Spike agreed as he pressed back into Xander’s body.  “Let me fuck you, Xan, darling Xander.  Really fuck you.”

Xander could feel Spike’s cock twitching and jumping inside him, and knowing his lover was so damned horny and eager had a predictable knock-on effect: Xander nodded frantically, enthusiastically granting Spike’s request.

Spike began a slow glide out, pausing when only the tip of his cock was barely inside Xander and rocking back and forth, teasing them both; Xander knew the slam was coming and trembled more violently in anticipation as he felt Spike’s fingers tighten on his hips; he reminded himself not to bite through his lip yet again.  Couple of slightly deeper nudges then Spike was snarling as he filled Xander in one powerful thrust, speedily pulling back to repeat the action, and again and again until Xander was whimpering under the onslaught and unable to withstand the vampire’s strength.  He collapsed onto the car, clammy skin clinging to the glossy paintwork, cock leaving snail trails on the sheer black.

Virtually climbing onto Xander, short-stroking at a breath-taking pace, Spike was growling and purring and keening, an extraordinary fusion of sounds that Xander would have found deeply disturbing if he wasn’t spread-eagled on a Jaguar with, as Spike had once promised, an ass that had died and ascended to bum heaven.

Then Spike was gone, but before Xander could bring himself to move voluntarily to investigate, he was involuntarily seized and flipped, onto his back, further down the hood.  A quick squeak and arch as hot skin tried to escape cold car, then Spike was lifting Xander’s legs over his shoulders and stabbing inside him again, falling over his lover and grasping the back of his neck, pulling him into a frenzied kiss that was accompanied by that damned awful noise.

The racket reverberated through Xander’s skull and its troubled quality made this impossible to enjoy.  He ripped his mouth free, gasped to his lover:

“What’s wrong?  Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” Spike groaned unhappily as his strokes faltered and lost rhythm.

“Spike?”

“Just let me fuck you, let me own you.  Can’t get…  Want to be inside you.  Deep.  Deeper.”

“Any deeper and – fuck! – when you come I’ll – I’ll – have to decide whe… - whether to spit or – or swallow.”  Spike forced himself as far inside Xander’s body as was humanly – vampirely - possible, holding himself in place and juddering with the effort of being there.  “Ease up,” Xander told him through gritted teeth.   “Spike, ease—”  Almost full withdrawal, followed by a few more jarring thrusts and Spike fell still, refusing to allow Xander to pull him into the comfort zone, nervy and fidgeting until he broke away and fled, crashing into the brick wall on the far side of the garage.  Xander scrambled up after him and watched, speechlessly, as Spike sank into a crouch, seeing the heavy, side-on lean against the rough surface and knowing the vampire must be at least grazed: shoulder, upper arm, thigh, hip.  No indication of physical pain but Spike began keening, luring Xander and his apparently unwanted gestures of placation to him.

“Talk to me,” Xander coaxed as he knelt alongside his lover.  “Tell me what’s wrong.”

The keening broke into a few moments of tormented sobbing before it developed into semi-hysterical laughter.

“How can you not know?  How can we be so fucked up and blind and…  You think we had to get out of Sunnydale?  We have to get out of here, away from here.  Another bloody country if it didn’t send you insane.  God help us, Xander, we can’t escape.”

“What are you talking about?”

“Fire,” Spike groaned.  “Think fire.”

Xander did, slowly shaking his head.

“I don’t…”

“Course you don’t.  Course.  You don’t.”  Spike grabbed Xander by the arm and pulled him close, speaking with a brittleness that screamed of trauma.  “You were walking into the fire, Xander.”

“What fire?”

“On the way home, there was lightning – fucking convenient lightning – and it hit some trees.  You were trying to walk into them.  You were burning.”

Xander looked over his body.

“I’m not burnt.”

“You didn’t burn.  I pulled you out and I didn’t burn.  But…your reasons are not my reasons for not being harmed and…”  Spike’s voice broke again.  “I couldn’t protect you.  I can’t.  After everything…  I still can’t protect you.”

“But…you do, Spike, you did.”

“I…  I…  Oh, fuck, fuck this,” Spike finished weakly with a despondent shake of the head.  “I was so scared.  Seeing you…”

Now Spike let himself be held and rocked, and the keening began and was shushed away.

“I’m okay, sweetheart, you can see that, feel that.  I’m not burnt, I’m okay.”

“You reached into the fire.  I thought…”

“Spike, I’m okay.  C’mon, we’ll get inside and you’ll tell me more.”

Spike resisted Xander’s efforts to move him.

“Need you,” he begged.  “Now.  Xander.  Now.”

Xander understood about having, owning, and he glanced around, choosing his spot before persuading Spike to rise and accompany him.  He pulled a stool out from under a work bench and sat Spike down, easily bringing him back to hardness with knowing touches and obscene suggestions before straddling his thighs and taking his time to ease himself onto Spike’s quivering erection.

“That feel nice?” Xander needlessly asked.  Spike nodded, emotional upset diminishing at the contact, the sense of having.  “Yeah, that feels nice,” Xander agreed as he made slow, teasing movements in total contrast to Spike’s earlier pounce and batter technique, rocking and rolling his hips, swivelling and treating Spike to a fractional rise and fall.  All to the accompaniment of tender kisses that were as arousing as they were soothing.  “Isn’t that good?” Xander crooned, “And aren’t you good too?  My good vampire, beautiful vampire, I love you so much.  You’re so good.  So special.  My precious Spike.  Precious childe.”

For a moment Spike resisted, Xander’s earlier, chilling, use of ‘Childe’ as a means to force his intentions upon Spike still a disturbing memory; but that wasn’t his Xander, Spike reasoned, wasn’t this Xander.  It wasn’t here and now and exactly what Spike needed.  Easy for Spike to capitulate when he felt so desperate for the reassurance and, exactly as Xander had intended, the demon rose to the systematic praise, Spike’s countenance shifting until gold eyes gazed adoringly at sire.  Sire, who was making the vampire feel so loved and wanted and taken.  Safe.

“Xander…”

“Shh.  You just feel me and know I’m here.  Know I’m yours, yeah?  You keep me safe and I love you for it.  You keep me safe and I’m yours.”  A soft purr emerged and Xander smiled as he trailed his fingertips over the demonic aspects of Spike’s face.  “My sweetheart,” he acknowledged, finally allowing himself to become fully aroused by this encounter, discounting the revelations, the necessity for assurance, he met the unblinking eyes that regarded him with such veneration and began to ride a little more energetically.  “This feels - you feel so good, Spike, you’re so damn hard, so deep inside me, and that’s what you wanted, yeah?  You’re gonna come and claim me.  Own me.”  Feeling Spike’s grip flex, Xander slowed for long enough to kiss him hard and possessively before speeding up again, bouncing on the demon’s rigid member until Spike was whimpering with his desperate need for release.  “Gonna come for me, huh?” Xander asked breathily as he returned to the slow, teasing rolling of hips.

“As sire wishes,” Spike gasped.

“Oh, yeah, sire wishes.  I love you coming inside me, you know that, don’t you?  Every time you do I’m a little more yours.  You come in me and I’ll shoot all over your body, make you smell of me instead of smoke, claim you with it, you like that?”  Spike nodded frantically.  “That’s good, it’s all good.  Love you in me, see how hard I get from having you inside?  Just thinking, knowing…  Oh, fuck, need you to touch me.”  Spike’s hand slipped between them and clawed fingers curled around Xander’s cock, rubbing and squeezing.  “Oh.  Good.  More good.”

Spike’s free hand cupped Xander’s ass, raising him just enough to allow Spike to dip his head and wrap his lips around the bulging glans.  Xander panted at the sight of the demon suckling the tip of his cock; the sharp tongue flickered and probed, persuading the dribble of fluid into a flow, hurtling Xander towards a release that, only seconds ago, he would have sworn he was in control of.  He felt the cock half-inside him swell further, Spike making tiny fucking movements with his hips, apparently not willing to risk more without sire’s express permission; and Xander passed on the movement, feeling Spike’s lips and tongue protecting him from the razor-like fangs as he barely fucked the vampire’s mouth.  Potentially the most hazardous, but possibly the gentlest sex they’d ever shared, and Xander groaned of his love as he succumbed to the situation as much as the sensation, coming hard and staring with wild eyes at his pulsating cock in that lethal mouth.

“Come, baby,” Xander gasped, “come.”

Xander felt the vibration as Spike grabbed the length of his cock not inside Xander and began to jerk off, taking only seconds to grunt his way into his climax, remarkably restrained as spurt after spurt shot into his lover’s spasming channel.

Spike’s mouth released him, and Xander sank down onto the vampire’s barely softened cock, wrapping his arms around the heaving shoulders and holding on tightly as he whispered more words of love.  He felt the features shift against his neck, and when Spike looked at him again it was with his human face, but the adoration still shone bright and clear in his eyes.

“Okay now?” Xander asked softly, pressing a line of kisses from Spike’s hairline to mouth.

“Better,” Spike conceded.

“Then I guess better will have to do.  For now.”  Xander stopped kissing to look at them and their surroundings.  He chuckled.  “Is there anywhere in this house we haven’t had sex?”

“Attic,” Spike replied instantly with a shudder.

“Yeah, don’t fancy that myself.”

Spike’s hands increased their grip on Xander’s hips and began to circle them; Xander called an immediate halt to that and removed himself from Spike’s rapidly renewed erection.

“How about we deal with that in the shower?”

“Now.”

Spike attempted to bring his lover back but Xander deftly evaded the groping hands.

“Shower.  I want to get you cleaned up, check out your head.”

“Too late, nothing in there.”

“The cut, the blood.  Talking of which, maybe you should feed first.”

“Stop fussing,” Spike snapped, peeved as Xander managed to steer clear of him once again.  “Let me fuck you.”

“No.”

“Then have me.”

“No.”

Xander found his keys, unlocked the hall access door and lured Spike through, to be greeted by a mighty, extended creak.

“Oh, fuck off!” Xander captured both their feelings quite succinctly.

Spike pursued Xander to the kitchen, where the human let himself be kissed and groped as they waited for blood to heat up, narrowly avoiding being fucked over the counter when he turned to reach for a mug.

“I am so very…naked here,” Xander belatedly observed as he pressed the full mug into Spike’s hand.

“Lovely.  Accessible.  Fuckable.”

Xander was still staring down at his shoes and socks.

“That’s not a good look.”

“Take it all off,” Spike suggested between sips.  “All off and get on the table.”

“All off and get in the shower,” Xander corrected.  “Wash vampire’s hair, find out if vampire’s head is badly broken.”

“Bollocks.”

“I’ll check them out too but I’m pretty sure they’re working perfectly.  Shower.  I want to wash off the smell.”  The gaze that passed between them became troubled.  “I believe you about the fire, Spike, we stink of it, I imagine I’m as covered in soot as you are.  But what does it mean?”

Spike shrugged defeatedly.

“You dream of fire, you’re drawn to it, it can’t damage you…”

“Or you.”

“That’s different.  With me it’s different.”

“How can it be?”

Spike wasn’t about to attempt an explanation of Patrick versus possession.

“You’re not expecting one thing to make sense in all of this, surely?”

“I was…I was walking into a fire?”  Xander’s voice was more than troubled as reality began to sink in.  “Then…  I should be dead.  And…  Not dead.  Oh, God, this is…”  Xander paled.  “My parents.  It can’t be a coincidence, can it?  They died in a fire.  Oh, God…”

“I think we’re safe here, Xander.”

“You think?”

Spike nodded, hoping Xander wouldn’t ask for more.

Xander considered; a pensive silence grew and grew until the man knew he’d had enough, something inside his head switched off or over or simply blew a fuse; for now, tried and trusted would have to come to the rescue.

“Think I’m going to sink into denial with this one.”

“Is there room for me in there?”

“Oh, yeah, always room for you, baby.”

Interspersed with kicking off his shoes and peeling off his socks, Xander made toast and hot chocolate, eating and drinking between increasingly frequent yawns, wandering into the pool room and under the shower, closing his eyes and trying not to fall asleep on his feet while he waited for Spike.

After checking the shutters were in place, Spike went to the back door, threw it open, and called and whistled for Hamish, listening carefully for a distant bark, and there it was; he grinned widely and waited for the hound to make his way through the woods.  A beam of sunshine fell close to Spike’s position and his vampire senses tingled in warning, but Spike couldn’t shake off the memory of seeing his arm in the fire, untouched, and if somehow Patrick had…  He snatched his wandering hand back, feeling ridiculous for hoping that something so improbable could be possible.  One fluke that pandered to the weird didn’t make him non-flammable.  His hand crept forward again, and this time he got close enough to see a wisp of smoke dance over his skin before showing some sense and backing into the shady protection of the house.

With a volley of joyful woofs, Hamish came hurtling over the lawn, screeching to a halt beside Spike for some concentrated fuss and sticking his cold nose in all sorts of places he shouldn’t.  Conceding getting dressed would have been a reasonably good idea, Spike remembered why he was semi-naked and, after putting out food and water for his dog, pursued Xander to the shower.

Xander woke himself up and carefully washed Spike’s hair, relieved to find the scalp beneath the source of the blood already healed.  Old news to Spike, and the vampire ignored Xander’s commentary, propped against the wall at arm’s length, purring contentedly under the gentle attention, head repeatedly drooping back into Xander’s hands as he dozed.

“Tell me something?”

“Mmm?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Ask.  Don’t ask if you can ask, just ask,” Spike snarked, made impatient by exhaustion.

“Why…  Are you pissed at me?  That isn’t the question, but always good to know.”

“No.  Sorry.  No.  Tired.”

“’Kay.  This will now be me asking, not asking to ask, just asking.”

“Sometimes, the power of speech is wasted on you.”

“Why do you get on with Angel?”

Spike frowned at that, and spent a few minutes exploring the question before taking a mental step anywhere near the answer.

“Tell me why you’re asking.”

“Well…  You told me that your demon resents him for usurping first Dru’s position as sire and then mine.  No love lost there.  William hated him, that was clear.  So how come you get along with him?”

“I don’t always.”

“Yeah, I know that.”

Spike thought some more, trying to put into simple words something that he’d never really examined.

“Angelus – Angel – is head of the Order, and the demon recognises that.”

“Never had crazy demon guy down as the ‘due respect’ type.”

“It’s ingrained, it’s not something you think about unless you have a bizarre and prying boyfriend.”

Xander smiled at that.  He found it hard not to smile when Spike said boyfriend, no matter what insults were attached.

“And William…?”

“Has always been a pragmatist: he understands what the demon needs from Angel and goes with the flow.  As the sum of my parts, bringing together intellect and instinct, I get to make the final choice about accepting him or otherwise.”

“Is it kinda…better the devil you know – no pun intended.  Shared experiences that bring you together, ‘cause I know I can’t appreciate so much of your life.  Unlife.”

“That.  And…  I don’t want to talk about how weak I’ve been, so can we…”

Spike was brought around and kissed.

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to make you feel like that.”

“I know.”

“But you’re not weak any more, Spike.”

“No?  Want to turn all the lights off tonight and have me crawl under your skin in sheer terror?”

“Everyone is afraid of something.  If they’re honest.”

“You?”

“Me.  And you know exactly what it is.”

They fell into an embrace, cradling and rocking, silent as they finished showering, gentle hands ensuring Spike’s new grazes were clean and already healing, soapy thumb rubbing the blackened X in Spike’s earlobe back to gold, no words at all until Xander greeted and fussed Hamish on the way up to bed.  A few minutes with the scruffy hound and Xander felt himself unwind, taking Spike’s hand as they climbed the stairs, pulling him into languid kisses as they ambled along the corridor.

Spike had completely forgotten about Xander’s birthday present so it was as much as a surprise to him when they smooched their way into the bedroom to find it re-decorated in a style more becoming to the central feature.

“Wow!”

“I am, aren’t I?” Spike grinned.

“Not you,” Xander laughed, “this.  Or this as well as you.”

Spike dragged his attention away from Xander and studied the room.

“Oh, right.  Right.  Happy birthday, pet.”

“This is…  Wow again.  Thank you.”

Olive green silk on the walls, darker velvet drapes at the window, darker again carpet on the floor with deep enough pile to lose your feet in; brass candle sconces on the walls to supplement a central almost-chandelier; cream satin throw over the bed, gleaming invitingly.

“Simple really, just…”

“Not ‘just’ anything.  This is beautiful, it’s so…classy.”

“Matches us perfectly then,” Spike joked to himself, but Xander overheard the comment and matched the vampire’s smile.

“Yeah.”

Spike catalogued the rush of soppy emotions that flitted over Xander’s face, enjoying and empathising with every one.  He beckoned to Xander.

“C’mere, you.”

Xander threw his arms around Spike for a concentrated hug, thanking him repeatedly, before moving around to view the room from every angle.  It wasn’t long before he was doing more yawning than looking.

“I think…  I think we have to see how it looks from the bed,” he told Spike.  “Which would be a great line if there were any chance of us still being awake in five minutes time.”

They crawled under the satin throw, stretching out between the crisp cotton sheets, fingers entwining when they met.

“Beth do this?”

“She oversaw it, yes.  You don’t…”

“No, course I don’t mind.”  Xander stared around, fighting to keep his eyes open.  “Love the colours.  This is the pretty much the kind of scheme I had in mind.”

“I know,” Spike murmured, equally as sleepy.  “I went through your desk and read your notes.”

Xander barely had the energy to react to Spike’s cheek, but he somehow found the energy to roll to his partner’s side and wriggle into his arms.

“Promise me I won’t dream,” he requested, the words only audible to vampire ears.

“I promise,” Spike complied.  “No more…”  Fire.  “…bad dreams.”

Spike knowingly and contentedly lied, Xander knowingly and contentedly let himself be lied to, and the two men drifted off to sleep.

Hamish padded silently into the room to check on his charges, sniffing around and becoming acquainted with the various areas of newness, hackles beginning to rise as he sent a low growl in the direction of a potential but successfully deterred creak from above their heads.  That minor irritation dealt with, and content that all was well with his pack and territory, the wolfhound settled in the doorway after turning numerous decreasing circles, finally satisfied with his chosen spot and inelegantly spreading his large body across many feet of flooring.  Xander shifted and murmured a nothing to Spike, and Hamish’s tail whapped against the floor a few times in fond recognition before, with an extended, grunted exhalation, the dog gave himself over to untroubled sleep.

Home.  Safe.  Dreamless.

Fireless.

It was all perfectly.  Blissfully.  Normal.

…

After supper.  Or would that be an incredibly late breakfast?

“So.  Spike,” Xander began reluctantly.  “I guess now you wanna talk about…stuff.”

There went the eyebrow.

“Stuff?”

“Y’know…  Stuff.”

“You mean…”

“Stuff.”

“If you really—  Hang on, I thought you were in denial.”

“You hate it when I do that.”

“I do.  Usually.”

“This isn’t usually?”

“No.  This is…  Me not having the wit or energy to confront…stuff.”

“Yeah, I’m…  I’m kinda tired of it too.  There’s only so much…stuff a guy can take.”

“I’ve spent hours, days, months trying to make sense of it.  No more.  It’s bloody pointless, I give up.”

“Poor baby,” Xander exaggeratedly sympathised.  “Think I’ll take you to a midnight movie and force you to watch humans being horribly mutilated by space monsters.”

“No complicated plot, no having to think?”

“No complicated plot, no thinking.”

“Is there beer involved in this jaunt?”

“There can be pre-evisceration beer.”

“And bacon butties when we get home?”

“There can be post-evisceration bacon butties.”

“And sex on or against every newly decorated or refurbished surface in the bedroom?”

“Except the ceiling.  I’m good but I’m not that good.”

Spike’s very fake pout broke into a smile and he caught and squeezed Xander’s hand.

“That’d be nice, love.  Specially the no thinking.”  Pause.  “As for the…stuff.  We could…”

“Not talk about it.  Until…”

“Whenever,” Spike stated firmly.

“Whenever sounds good.”

“We’ll need to.  Unfortunately.  At some point.  But that can be…”

“Whenever.  Whenever’s still sounding good.”

Pause.

“You have to go back to work…?”

“I have meetings on Thursday, should do some prep work on Wednesday.”

“Anything I can say to keep you here?”  Xander simply looked guilty and drew patterns on Spike’s hand.  One of those moments when all Spike knew was how much he loved his other half.  “Talk to me.”

“About what?  About how I didn’t seem to give you any choice over this lifestyle and now leave you lonely and frustrated?”

Spike wasn’t even going to humour him.

“About us.  Something new.”

Xander looked.  And blinked.  Thought.  Smiled, and told Spike about something he’d only noticed the previous week despite experiencing it many times.  Noticed as in noticed.

Getting up to go to work and Spike being so cosy in bed that he wouldn’t even move an inch, just watch Xander with possessive eyes, every step and action, providing it didn’t mean moving.  Eventually Xander would notice the scrutiny and stop, look back, head tilting until it was on a corresponding angle to Spike’s.  ‘Love you’, he’d mouth, and Spike’s eyes would close in an impression of sleep, but Xander would hear the purr droning on and on, following him and filling him with warmth as he left for the day.

“That kind of something?”

“Yeah.  Now you say it I recognise it.”

“What are you thinking?  Those mornings?”

“Mine.  Always looking at you and thinking mine.”

“Thinking, huh?  May do some thinking of my own tonight.”  Lust sparked in the vampire’s eyes and Xander grinned.  “Scent of me is gonna drive you crazy if I do.”

“Yes.”

Xander leant over and brushed an apparently compassionate kiss over Spike’s lips.

“Good.”

…

Ignorance was bliss, for Xander if not for Spike.  Xander was happy, wonderfully happy, as he basked in the luxury of denial that was too easily achieved, whether he was forgetting through choice, necessity, or manipulation.  Without understanding the significance, he no longer informed Spike about his fire dreams, simply shared the after-effects: on waking he would fuck the vampire with a mindless intensity that left Spike too exhausted to form questions let alone hypotheses.

Spike did not forget.  He played at forgetting as he pursued a little peace of mind for both himself and his partner, refusing to affect or infect Xander with his ongoing concerns.  He surreptitiously observed.  He surreptitiously guarded.  He liked to think that he protected, but imagined that, at this point in time, the responsibility was beyond him.  He hated to let Xander out of his sight, but suspected that Xander was in less danger of a certain type than Spike.  Then again, Xander was probably in more danger of a certain other type than Spike.  But the types eluded definition and conjecture was frustratingly pointless.

A new fascination kept Spike on the internet for days and nights: he learned all he could about weather systems and storms and particularly about lightning, the types and causes, individual quirks and peculiarities, until he came to the expected conclusion: their personal variety – the one that crackled over the house and, on the odd occasion, bounced off the ward as it vindictively headed directly for one inquisitive vampire – was a mystery that even the most extraordinarily gifted meteorologist would be unable to unravel.

…

Spike knew that something was coming.  Meantime it was a question of working doggedly toward the mundane, hopefully allowing Xander his happiness until…  Well, just until.

There were little moments that shone…

A chance foray into the house’s largest guest bedroom during a frenzied bout of hide and seek with Hamish led Xander to crash into the Mackintosh bed.  Needless to say there was much appreciating of both vampire and bed frame, with the christening ceremony taking place within the half-hour.

Xander finally completed Spike’s song and sang it for him without an accompaniment of several thousand apologies.  Spike suffered badly from ‘Just something in my eye, really,’ during the recital, and Xander dealt with this medical emergency in the time-honoured way: tender kisses, varied positions.

There were old squabbles that resurfaced…

Xander returned home from work to find Spike cooking an extravagant menu he’d lifted from the internet.

“How many times have I told you!  You don’t need to wait on me, Spike.”

“I’m not waiting on you, I’m cooking a meal.”

“I’ve told you before…”

“Yeah, you’ve told me.  Now I’m telling you.  I do what I want, and it’s about time you stopped whingeing about it.”

“I don’t…”

“You think you’re in some way preserving my dignity by stopping me cooking, is that it?  Well, you’re not.  You’re simply reminding me of how badly I fucked up in the past.  I don’t believe that’s what you want, so shut up, sit down, and eat.”

“Spike…”

“Shut!”

“I just…”

“Up!”

“But…”

“One more word out of you and I’ll shove this entire meal up your arse!”

Xander learnt fast: he shut up, sat down, and ate…  ‘Enjoy.’  …and never objected to Spike cooking for him again.

There were new discoveries…

Without the hindrance of the chip, they were able to spar with the kind of enthusiasm and energy they’d always longed to.  Spike finally got an idea of how strong his lover had become, and Xander’s strength was a shock and – naturally, as this was Spike – an undeniable aphrodisiac.  Wary of touching on…stuff, Spike tiptoed around the subject until Xander casually commented on the difference Spike’s blood had made to him over the past couple of years.  And that was more likely than all the weirdness.

There were special treats…

The day after discovering that Spike, once again, had gold rings piercing his nipples, Xander brought home toe rings, placing them on the vampire’s elegant toes, licking meandering trails from the white gold up his calves and thighs – diverting around the thick flesh that was standing up and begging for attention – licking over belly and ribs, around and over and around and over the metalled nipples, and finally to a tense mouth in an unbearably aroused face.  Toe rings, they decided, were pretty sexy.

As was the rediscovery of the cock strap and Spike’s photographically documented fascination with exactly how well it suited Xander.

Xander’s further gift of a new pair of funky pink monster feet to replace those that had been destroyed during one of Spike’s wrecking sprees was met with embarrassment-laden appreciation, and not even Hamish’s enthusiastic and oft-repeated attacks on Spike’s feet could prevent the vampire wearing the daft things.

All wonderfully normal; if either of the men outwardly touched on…stuff, it was to congratulate themselves on their avoidance of it.

But inwardly…

Spike knew that something was coming.

He watched.

And he waited.

Repossession 108       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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