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Part 114 |
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It was as if Xander’s
entire reserve of energy had been exhausted.
The vampires, Samuel’s death, the events of the night, all had conspired
to drain him; the continuing snaps and flashes of memory were, out of context,
a troubling and debilitating nuisance. Spike suspected Xander
wasn’t being…boosted by Patrick any more. Xander slept and Spike
couldn’t. He watched, or watched over
his lover as Xander spent unconscious hours around the house, the rest of the
night, intermittently the next day. Spike had an overwhelming
need to draw Xander and picture after picture emerged, this Xander, Sunnydale
Xander, Xander in settings and situations that Spike didn’t recognise but this
was how Spike’s breaking memories were manifesting themselves, and the inspiration
kept pounding at him and pouring out through whatever medium he had to
hand. He fought the compulsion several
times, mainly because wanted to stop the constant production of Xander pictures
and draw Samuel while he remembered him clearly. It made his chest ache and his eyes burn, but
it was a necessity. “Those times when I was
out? When I told you I was getting used
to the night again? I was with
Sammy. I’d cruise around a bit and
always end up there for a cuppa and a chat.
Good company.” “I used to do that all
the time before you got here. Late calls
or nights when I couldn’t sleep. And it
started again, whenever you were in LA.
Yeah. Good company.” “He was a funny little
thing, wasn’t he? That site hut, those
bloody dreadful stories, and he was happy as Larry with his lot. I asked him once if he wanted more, where he
saw himself in ten years time. He was
surprised at that. ‘I’ll be here,’ he
said, ‘doing this’. And then he went
rattling on, explaining that when he said ‘here’ he didn’t mean ‘here’ because
‘here’ would be finished and there’d be a different ‘here’. He liked that there was always a different
‘here’. Another site. Where he could sit in the warm all night and
write about demons munching on humans.
Just for the market: he explained that very particularly, ‘cause he
liked most humans. Thought the world of
you, Xander. But you know that.” Yes, and it was too hard
to acknowledge. “I like this one best,”
Xander indicated the picture he’d put to the top of a small pile. “He smiled a lot.” “Right, I’ll finish it up
so…” Spike paused. Xander recognised the anger and upset raging
inside him. “Give it a few days and…” If
we’re still here. “…I’m going to
wipe out that nest. Angel will help me –
if he ever picks up his bloody phone
– and Buffy’ll come here if we ask her.
Thorough. Make it a thorough
job. Too late, but…” “I thought we
agreed. No self-recriminations.” Spike nodded. “Hard though. When I know.
I know, Xander.” “He wouldn’t want either
of us to blame ourselves.” “Tell me you don’t.” Xander couldn’t remember
it all, but enough to know it was his fault that Samuel had died. To say he blamed himself was putting it
mildly. Spike saw it in Xander’s face
and fell back on tried and trusted to make that heartrending expression go
away. They spent a lot of time
making love. Nothing new there, but this
was different, and not just because Xander was currently prone to falling
deeply asleep at any point in the proceedings.
Neither of them were prepared to say it yet, but each time felt like the
last. So in order to make the last time
not the last, they made love again.
Which then felt like the last time. It was wonderful,
every… Last. …time. Perfect together, they dreamily acknowledged,
there would never be anything better than this.
Xander buried his fingers in the loose waves of Spike’s untreated hair,
reminded and reminded and reminded; flashes of memory, and these sparks were
discernible and welcome. “My William,” he said
often. “That’s right,” Spike
readily agreed, a vampire by any other name and all that. “Your William. And your William loves you with such
passion.” Xander would sleep again,
and Spike would drop a hand over the edge of the bed, finding a cold-nosed
snout filling it within seconds, and the tongue slithering over his flesh would
be quick to follow. All together, all
safe, the ward creaking, hissing, wailing as it was continually tested, only
just managing to keep them that way. Spike studied Xander’s
chest as the bloom of pink from the lightning hit took the best part of the day
to fade; he didn’t think much about why Xander wasn’t dead because he was
terrified by the ‘yet’ that he knew belonged on the end of that thought. As it faded Spike realised there were areas
that were staying flushed, corresponding marks on Xander’s chest and back; it
sent Spike to the mirror, and he stared at himself for a while in various
positions and at various angles but, as he’d already convinced himself after
seeing the discolouring on Jake’s body, with his different physiology… Back to Xander, back to
the gentle caresses, kisses to the new marks, the old scars, feeling once again
the urgent need to be joined with this body, inside Xander, Xander inside him,
proving how alive in any sense they both were.
Because last time couldn’t possibly have been the last time. … Early hours of Monday
morning and Xander stirred. Opened his
eyes to find Spike watching him.
Still. It was all he’d seen since
they’d got back from Max’s. “You have to sleep,
sweetheart.” “I have. You missed it.” “You’re a terrible liar.” “I can’t, Xander, I’m
too—” Spike sighed. “I just can’t.” “You’re going to need
your strength.” “I am? What do you know?” “I know…that whatever
happens you’re going to need your strength.”
Xander rearranged Spike so that the vampire was facing away from him,
moving close behind him and snuggling.
“There. Your back’s covered. Safe.
Go to sleep.” Spike wriggled into the
heat, moaning quietly when Xander’s mouth fastened over his claimant’s mark. “Fuck me.” “You need sleep, not
sex.” “Fuck me, claim me, and
I’ll sleep.” “It used to work,” Xander
considered as he licked the scar and made Spike squirm. “Be fast. Before you doze off again.” Xander was fast. Before he dozed off again
he wondered if this was the last time. … “Did you sleep?” “I slept.” “You awake now?” “Yeah. You?” “Yeah.” Xander stretched out, wound his toes around
Spike’s. “What did you feel when I was
hit?” “Hit?” “The lightning.” “Pressure,” Spike said
after thinking for a while. “Like
someone was standing on my chest. I
didn’t question it. And I didn’t panic
because I knew you were alive.” “Knew as in…hoped?” “Knew as in knew. I could…
I knew. I could feel your heart
beating. Almost as if…your blood was in
my veins.” “I could sense you too.” “What? You could feel my heart not beating? Was that me you were sensing or the nearest
rock?” “Be serious,” Xander
chuckled. “Serious, yes.” “We could feel each
other. And not in the unable-to-keep-our-hands-to-ourselves
variety. How weird is that?” “You want
breakfast?” Spike looked at the
clock. “Lunch?” “Not bothered.” There went the last stall
tactic. Spike turned to Xander and
rubbed a hand over his chest, deliberately not looking for anything out of the
ordinary. “Xander…” “I know. Time for…stuff. Weird gets to meet the light of day.” “Something’s happening,
we have to deal.” “Yesterday was… And, yes, I know I slept through most of it,
but the bits I was awake for, it was…
The day before the day. You know
that atmosphere, that…strange, subdued time as the next apocalypse
approaches. We’ve experienced it enough
in the past.” “This isn’t an
apocalypse.” “Private apocalypse?” Spike hesitated before
conceding the point, moving closer until his head was on Xander’s shoulder. “Maybe.” “Think there’s any chance
we can un-impend the doom?” “No.” “We’re not meant to, are
we?” “No.” “Or we would have asked
for help. We would have explained
everything to “A very private
apocalypse.” Xander wrapped his arms
around Spike, pressed a cheek to his brow, and was quiet. “Thinking or nodding
off?” “Thinking. Trying to make sense of some of the things
I’ve been remembering. If these are
memories, not psychosis.” Xander thought
some more. “There are things that make some sense.
There’s… I’m...I’m talking – trying to talk – to Angel but he doesn’t
get what I’m talking about, and then – this doesn’t make so much sense – I’m
wanting him to bite my wrist.” “I remember that.” “So, it did happen? When I was…not ill.” “It was as if you were
overwhelmed by the other Xander, but the real one, this one, was trying to get
back. And the bite helped to focus
you. If you were scared you’d want the
bite, and there were times when you couldn’t find me fast enough…” “Did he do it? Did Angel bite me?” “No. Came pretty close. You were very persistent.” “You’ve tried to persuade
me I wasn’t crazy then but… Spike, I had
to be crazy.” “Says he who was snogging
the old man not so long ago.” “You never left me alone
with him, did you?” “If he’d touched you
I’d’ve known, and he wouldn’t be around now, I promise.” Xander could believe that. “Anything else that makes sense?” “Scraps. Lots of disconnected pictures in my
head. Voices. Are you experiencing any of this?” “Pictures. The ones of you I keep drawing.” “I don’t always recognise
me in them.” “I wouldn’t either, if I
didn’t know better.” Pause. “Do you remember the sea? You kept talking about it.” “My dreams?” Xander
frowned. “Before the dreams. You’d talk about waves crashing onto rocks,
being able to smell the ozone. Grass,
you could smell grass too. And it was
cold, you’d say the wind was cutting.”
Xander let out a gasp, a small sound of distress, and Spike quickly
leant up, scanning his partner’s pale face as brown eyes rolled back in their
sockets. “Xander!” “William,” Xander choked,
“William.” Spike took Xander by the
shoulders, heavy-handed in his alarm, and shook him roughly. “Xander! Come back to me!” With a jolt Xander
returned to the here and now, clutching at Spike as he was hauled into a tense
embrace. “Spike,” Xander confirmed
for himself. “Not William. Spike.” “I’m sorry, love, I
didn’t know…” “Spike. I’m here, I’m here.” “Yes, you’re here.” “That was… I feel like I’m suffocating, I want to get
up. Let me go.” Spike reluctantly
released Xander, cursing himself for asking what should have been an innocent
question, but their innocence was apparently lost. Stripped away by whatever was looming over
them. Xander sat for a moment
on the edge of the bed, breathing hard, trying to regain his equilibrium but,
as soon as he tried to rise, his strength evaporated and he stumbled to one
knee, finding himself placed back on the bed within seconds, Spike predictably
fussing over him. “Hey, I’m just…” His words were stifled by
a slashed wrist, and the response was automatic; he drank vigorously,
determinedly keeping the wound open as he took his time and pleasure over this
intimate act, peripherally aware of Spike’s huffing breaths as he tried to stay
calm and not jump his partner. Xander,
however, didn’t hesitate when Spike began to draw away; he threw himself over
the vampire’s body while he pursued his fix of blood, grinding their groins
together as he dragged Spike’s wrist back to his mouth and sank his teeth into
the healing wound. “In me,” Spike demanded.
“Xander. Get in me.” Xander was more than
happy to oblige, accepting the offer of spreading thighs, the seductive lift of
the hips; his body was conditioned to this, finding the right position, right
angle, able to stab his cock into Spike and thrust deep, riding the buzz of the
blood and the guttural cry of his lover’s satisfaction. Familiar, so
familiar. Last time? Xander
occasionally checked if there were heel-shaped grooves in his thighs from where
Spike pressed his feet when they fucked, practically standing on the muscles,
using the leverage to force himself onto Xander’s cock. Last
time? So familiar. “So good, Xander. C’mon, fuck me, fuck your Spike.” So familiar.
“Hard. Hard. Fuck, yes!
Beautiful boy.” Last time? “My darlin’, feel you, feel you…” So familiar. Xander moved from wrist
to neck, breaking into the healing scar, pounding into the receptive body he
knew better than his own. Last time? “I love you so much,
Spike,” murmured against the ragged flesh. “That’s sweet. That’s good.” Last time? “I’m so happy with you.” “You have me. Love.
Have me.” Last time? “I don’t want this to be
over.” Abrupt. Halt. Spike blinked the hazy
gold back to clear blue. “Love?” “Last time?” “No,” Spike smiled, so
gentle in contrast to the maniacal fucking. “You sure?” The smile grew. “I won’t waste this time
on fear,” Spike answered without answering.
“We deserve better, don’t we?” “We do, but…” “Need you.” The so familiar undulation, the squeeze
around Xander’s cock. “Need you to fuck
me. Let me feel you. Let me feel your life.” Spike’s hands in Xander’s hair drew his mouth
back to the claimant’s scar. “Take my
blood, make yourself strong. Fuck me.” Xander took the blood,
fucked like a demon, almost drove Spike through the mattress when he came. And as he laid slumped over Spike’s purring
body, making the most of every comforting touch the vampire bestowed, he tried
not to believe that this was the last time. … Fed, watered, finally
having made it to the living room without incident, they sat looking at one
another expectantly. Expectantly, but
with dread. “Where do you want to
start?” Xander asked. “Because there’s
always the whole… ‘I’m some kind of freak, I was hit by lightning and it didn’t
affect me’ vein to explore.” “We’ve been there. After Sunnydale. It’s a part of the walking into fire without
burning.” “You said we were
different. Your reasons for being safe
weren’t mine?” Spike was wary of
bringing Patrick into this too soon. Or
at all. And that in itself made him wonder
if the man was influencing him. After
all, he wanted to tell Xander everything. “Can we get back to
that?” “Back from where?” “The start. You met Patrick…” “On a building site, I
was… Spike, you know all this.” “He gave you a job you
weren’t qualified for, and brought you into the fold.” “He said he knew I’d be
able to do it.” “He did know, didn’t
he? What you were capable of. Better than you knew yourself.” Xander stopped the
automatic defensiveness with some effort. “Yeah. That was a hell of a chance. It didn’t make sense him giving me the job.” “And…” “This isn’t all going to
be about Pat, is it? ‘Cause… I love them all, the whole family, and I
can’t explain how deep that goes. But… Pat’s special. If I didn’t have him… I can’t explain this either, but I don’t
think I could get over not having him in my life somehow. It’s not like you, nothing, nobody is as
important to me as you, I just…” “It’s all right, love,
don’t panic. Not yet anyway.” “Okay. Okay.
Not panicking.” “‘The whole family’,”
Spike quoted. Xander nodded. “Your family?
Or their family?” Xander looked confused. “Not family, right, not
by blood, but by…feel.” “Have you ever questioned
what you feel? What they feel?” ‘The way you look at me sometimes. As if…as if…’ ‘As if I love you?’ ‘That’s so wrong.’ ‘We all love you.’ ‘It’s wrong.’ “No. I’ve never needed to.” “You admitted once that
it was all too cosy, that they cared too much.
You said it was part of a package that was too good to be true.” ‘It’s too good to be true. The
whole package. Too. Good.
To be. True.’ Upset was added to the
confusion. “Don’t want to go there.” “Because you’re
frightened that, under analysis, it’ll be proved that they don’t love you for
the right reasons; I understand that even if it’s bollocks. We have to go there. Sorry.”
Xander waved the apology aside with a resigned expression. “Okay.
I love you madly, Xander, you don’t doubt that, but I also know you can
be an obnoxious, neurotic, controlling, hypocritical git, but their attitude
says you’re perfect.” “Maybe I don’t show them
the obnoxious, neurotic, controlling, hypocritical gitness. No, strike the controlling, they see that all
the time at work. But the rest…” “Then there’s me. I’ve treated you so badly at times, I’ve been
the biggest bastard, and they know -
nothing you can say will convince me that they don’t know – but still they’re
kind and loving and altogether too tolerant with someone who turned up and
fucked over their beloved Alex’s life and…”
Spike gave an involuntary shiver.
“I have the same problem as you.
Being loved, accepting that I’m loved.
I know they love me and it
doesn’t make sense. It scares me.” “Their compassion scares
you? C’mon, Spike, hell gods don’t scare
you.” Spike took a deep breath. “This is bloody
hard. The thinking equivalent of walking
through quicksand.” “You’ve done that?” “Well, there was this
time when Dru— Subject at hand, Xander!” “Sorry.” “The depth of their
affection for us…” “Is there anything else
you’d like to cover before you make me lose them and break my heart?” “I’m not trying to hurt
you.” “I know that. But it does hurt.” “And I’m not saying you
have to lose them, I’m not saying they’re bad for you, in fact… Patrick’s the one who keeps you safe.” “You keep me safe.” “Listen,” Spike
persisted. “The ward around the house,
the property, is Patrick’s doing, not “So, that’s good.” “That is good.” “Until you consider that
he knows we need protecting to that extent.
Which means he must know a whole lot more. Does he know about you, what you are?” “Yeah.” “You said, way back,
you’d asked him to help you. You thought
he knew what you were then?” “I think he’s known from
the start. Not the William start, but the me
start, round about when we moved to this house.
I remember…” And Spike suddenly
did. Being in Patrick’s office,
confronting him, challenging him.
Feeling Patrick’s – Pádraig’s
power. Staggering and clutching his head
as the chip fired; Pádraig touching him and drawing the pain away. “Who did this to you, William? Who destroyed what you are?” “Soldiers.
Doctors.” “Dead soldiers? Dead doctors?” Nod.
“Angelus?” “Xander asked him to kill them.” Patrick understanding and smiling. “We’re quite a family.” “Spike?” “He…he
knew about me,” Spike responded vaguely.
“I asked him to help more than once.” “And he
wouldn’t?” “Couldn’t.” “Why?” Spike gave Xander an old-fashioned look. “We need to ask him, right.” Xander paused, studying Spike curiously. “Something else just came back?” Spike
nodded. “I used to leave myself
notes. Telling myself that I was going
to speak to Patrick and if I didn’t remember that, I’d been influenced by him.” “And did you remember
going to him? Speaking to him?” “No. I didn’t even remember wanting to, and I
wasn’t aware of losing the time. And
then…” “You forgot
forgetting. But you knew something was
wrong with our memories, you tried to tell me.” “His influence has been
waning recently. Before that…he was
trusting me a little more, selectively allowing me to hold onto what he thought
I needed.” “How could Pat do this to
us? Are you sure it’s him?” “Are you?” “I—” Xander made himself face up to this. “Trust your judgement.” A few minutes of cogitation and Xander was
ready to be angry. “It’s abuse,
Spike. How he’s treated us, interfering
with our memories, even…even with Angel’s, he’s…” “It’s not abuse.” “Of course it is!” “Part of the
protection. We might not approve of his
methods, but one way or another, he’s always protecting…” Spike’s voice trailed off
as, not an old memory, but a new thought distracted him. For the first time Spike suspected where he
may have gone when they returned from Xander was absorbed in
his own thoughts too, head in hands, a picture of despair. Spike went to him, knelt between his feet,
buried kisses in that thick, suspiciously greyless mop of hair. “Why him?” Xander asked
forlornly. “Why does there have to be
something wrong with him? Is he
affecting all of us?” Fuck, fuck, fuck. “It’s not just him.” Spike took the tortoiseshell fountain pen
from his back pocket and handed it over.
Xander looked at it, then at Spike with a combination of confusion and
dread. “That pen was given to me – to
William – on his eighteenth birthday. It
was from his parents and he treasured it.” “Jay gave you this,”
Xander stated blankly, not wanting to go there. “I know.” “It can’t be the same…” “Look at the age, the
initials. You think those initials are a
common combination? I don’t.” “So Jake… What?
How?” “He spun an almost credible cover story – if you
don’t mind heavy on coincidence, that is – and for a time I thought maybe he
was being manipulated too, but… No,
Xander, he knew. He knew he was
returning something that William always bitterly regretted losing.” “I… So…
Wow. How did you feel? When you saw it?” “Use your imagination.” “I can’t. Not for this, I can’t.” Spike waited.
“I guess… I’d be thrilled. And terrified.” “Thrilled and
terrified. That’ll do.” “But this wasn’t a bad
thing, it was… It’s a wonderful gift.” “I don’t deny that, any
of that. You wanted the weird spelt out,
love.” Xander nodded and was,
once more, lost in his thoughts for a while as he mulled over what Spike had
presented him with so far. Spike watched
his partner suffer and generally felt like a bastard even if it wasn’t his
fault, at the same time wishing he himself had a little more focus; there were
so many important things he had to tell Xander and they kept swooshing by
before he could get a grasp on them. At
this rate he’d tell Xander what didn’t matter, forget what did. More of
the same, he smiled wryly to himself. “The others?” Xander’s voice was expressionless, his entire
being reflecting the shock of losing trust. “Not so much. Beth touches my head,” Spike’s hand went to the
site of the chip, “and this bastard thing starts to fire.” “She’d never hurt you.” “No, she wouldn’t, not
intentionally.” “She loves you, she told
me that, she actually said it. When they
were here recently, y’know the Sunday you arranged for Jay? We walked around the garden and she was
saying how happy she was for us, that she understood why I love you so much
because she loves you too. And she was
telling me these stories from your time together at the gallery, and…” Stopping to catch his
breath, Xander looked away, unsuccessfully attempting to hide his grief. “We don’t know it’s
over,” Spike told him gently. “We just
have to deal with it.” “Now? Should we be doing something right now?” “I think you’ll know
when.” “Not you?” “Maybe me. But definitely you.” Xander was on his feet
and weaving around the room. “For fuck’s sake! When did this become all about me!” “The moment you heard the
words, ‘I’m Patrick MacDonald’. At least
then.” “At least then?” Xander repeated suspiciously. “You think…?
What do you think?” “I don’t know.” “You mean you don’t
remember.” “I mean I don’t know.” At the window, Xander
leant on the sill, staring out into the garden. “Spike.” “Yeah?” “There’s a storm
gathering.” “Oh, shit.” Spike hurried to join his partner and they
gazed out at the darkening sky. “Could
be just a storm,” Spike said with a complete lack of conviction. “You said we’d get back
to it. The fire. You understand any of that?” “Truthfully? No.” “Anything you do
understand?” At Spike’s chuckle, Xander
nudged against him encouragingly.
“Anything about anything? Hit me
with the weird, baby.” “Look at your hand.” “Which one?” “Just look.” Xander concentrated and
saw nothing; Spike concentrated for a good ten minutes before he could see the
matching rings on their fingers. “What am I supposed to be
seeing?” Spike took Xander’s hand
and made him rub his fingers over the band of platinum that Spike wore. A short while of thinking Spike had gone
completely insane with all of this, then… “Sweet Jesus! Where did that come from? Am I wearing one?” Concentrating on his own
hand, specifically the correct finger, it was a while again before he knew the
ring was there. He touched it with a
suitable degree of wonder. “Platinum,” Spike
informed Xander as he drew breath to ask the question. “How long…?” “At least a few
weeks. I’ve seen them in a photograph
taken on the twenty-seventh of May.” “And we never knew. How did you find out?” “I noticed mine, simple
as that. Reached out to pick up the
phone and it caught the light. Don’t
know where they came from, or exactly when, but I’m willing to bet that every
other member of the family wears something similar.” Spike felt a rush of
affection at the expression on Xander’s face, and wished he’d made such a
gesture a long time ago, bought a token of his love and commitment and put it
on Xander’s finger himself. “I don’t mind this,”
Xander stated the obvious. The metal
turned loosely until Xander brought it as far as his knuckle. “Have you tried…?” “I know that mine won’t
come off. Bet it wouldn’t even if you
cut my finger…” Xander’s attention was
jerked away from the ring and his eyes widened in alarm. “You’re not going to ask
me to do that.” “No, no, I promise,”
Spike assured. “What else?” Xander asked
quickly, wanting to get away from that particular subject before Spike changed
his mind and headed off for a hacksaw. Spike’s mind fogged over
for the umpteenth time; everything relevant glided past and he was left with an
array of everyday subjects that he felt no longer had any bearing on their
lives. On what their lives were about to
become. “Scars!” he suddenly
announced as the mental picture of Jake’s marred body slid into place. “Scars.”
He crossed to Xander and stripped off his shirt, charily touching the
darkening patch on Xander’s chest.
“Scars,” he whispered, impetus lost by the new vividness of this blemish
on his lover’s skin. Xander peered down, shook
his head. “That’s from the
lightning.” “No, love.” Spike turned Xander and traced the outline of
the mark on Xander’s back. “Jake has
them. Haven’t spotted anything on Beth
or Rafe. I thought it was a bit strange
Moira wearing that scarf thing when they were over last, so maybe her neck…” “Pat,” Xander said to himself,
touching his own chin where the scar had begun to show on Patrick’s. “Yeah.” “You?” Spike could see the
dread; he put his arm around Xander and gave a gentle squeeze. “I thought once I spotted
something, but it went. Nothing now.” “You figured out what
they mean?” “I’ve got some theories
that sound too bizarre to put into words.” “Hey, c’mon, child of the
Hellmouth here, I grew up on bizarre.” “There’s also… Back in a sec.” “Where are you going?” “I need to fetch
something from the car.” Spike left the
room and immediately returned. “Do me a
favour? Can you try to call Angel? Haven’t been able to get an answer. And Willow too, phone “And say what?” “If I’m right you won’t
get to say anything. Check the computer,
see if you can send an e-mail.” … At the desk in the study,
Xander replaced the phone and stared ahead of him, mind wearily plodding along,
trying to make sense of…well, anything at all would be a start. “Okay?” Spike asked on
his return. “No. No answers, not sure if we even have a line
out. Can’t even get the computer
started.” “Want me to try?” “What’s the point?” Spike put down the book
and wrapped his arms around Xander, hugging him from behind, burying kisses in
his hair. “Don’t lose heart.” Xander stroked the arms
that crossed his chest, staring at the wall in front of him but taking a few
minutes to register the calendar that was fixed to it. A few minutes more before he read what had
been written in Xander’s hand, and decorated with Spike’s elaborate whorls and
squiggles. “I don’t believe it.” “What?” “Can’t be a coincidence.” “What?” Xander struggled up
mid-hug and turned to where Spike was protectively hovering. “With so much going on,
we didn’t remember.” “What? What, Xander, before I thump you!” A light kiss, a lighter
laugh. “Happy anniversary,
sweetheart.” Spike’s attention
immediately switched from Xander to the calendar. He gazed speechlessly for a full minute, then
turned to kiss and cuddle Xander. “I feel cheated. Today should have been special.” “Today’s been pretty
special so far,” Xander laughed wryly.
“Kinda scared to find out how much more special it can get.” “Happy anniversary,
Xander. I know it hasn’t been easy, but
I wouldn’t have missed a minute of these two years, a minute of being with
you.” “Me too.” “Promise me you forgive
any hurt I’ve caused you.” “I promise. You?” “I promise. And can we stop this now? ‘Cause it feels like the big goodbye and I’m
not ready for that.” “We’ll celebrate at the
weekend.” They both managed to look
convinced they’d still be around at the weekend, and that would have to
do. “What did you fetch?” “This.” Spike picked up the book
and offered it to Xander. Xander turned
it over in his hands, fiddling with the catches, which refused to open. “It’s not the one from
the gallery?” “No. This is one of the Watcher’s unfathomable
treasures.” “And why you really went
to Sunnydale?” “I did bring the other
stuff, but… I remembered this – sort of
remembered – after seeing the one Beth bought.” “If she bought it.” Spike nodded. “ “But…?” “It opened for me.” “What does it say?” “I didn’t look. I wanted the protection of being here.” A moment of wooziness and
Xander hastily returned to the book to Spike. “Can we be sitting down
for this?” They took the book to the
kitchen, placed it between them on the table.
Exchanging a look, they nodded grimly, and Spike laid his hands over the
locks. Nothing. “It didn’t happen
straight away.” “Okay.” Ten minutes later and it
didn’t seem to be happening at all, and Xander was making coffee in the hope of
keeping awake. Hamish wandered in from
his guard post at the front door, made a quick recce of his bowl, crossed to
sit beside the table and study Spike’s progress. “Fucking buggering bloody
bugger!” Spike exclaimed as he shoved the volume away. “And if that doesn’t
work, there’s always abracadabra.” Laughing at the absurdity,
Spike gave the book a last unimpressed prod. “That’ll teach me. Pretending I knew what I was doing for once.” “You do… I have to go lay down, I’m…” Spike was there in a
second, scooping Xander into his arms as he passed out on his feet. He laid alongside Xander
for a while, once again watching him sleep, singing softly or reciting poetry
to him. When Spike sat up he caught a
glimpse of himself in the mirror. Or rather,
he caught a glimpse of William, all
soft clothes and softer curls. It wouldn’t
do. He went into battle as Spike, and it
was Spike he needed to see. A zillionth
check that Xander was okay and he made for the bathroom, the scissors, and the
bleach. … “Calm down.” Patrick. “You have to be
joking.” Jake. English accent. “They’ll be here.” Patrick attempted to
ignore the distraction that was Jake, fixing his thoughts on Xander, fixing his
thoughts on Spike, with his last dregs of energy willing the men to feel. Jake paced, drunkenly in
his exhaustion. “Let me go and find
them. Let me find Xander.” “No.” “Pádraig…” “No. You understand how this
works, we have to wait for them to come to us.” “There is no guarantee…” “You think I don’t know
that?” “Let him
concentrate.” Moira. “Be quiet, John. Please?” Jake nodded, face
apologetic. Pacing, weaving; only
minutes before he was desperately returning to Patrick. “Let me go and fetch
them, bring them here, it’s such a small part of what’s happening…” “No.” “Screw up this chance and
it’s over. We’ll lose him.” “Don’t give up, not
now.” Beth. “And if that happens
you’ll have to let me go too. Because I
can’t do this again, I can’t know
this again. There are not enough mind-numbing drugs on this entire planet to
make it bearable. You’ll have to release
me.” Jake stared beseechingly into
Patrick’s face, ignoring the anguish that haunted the dark eyes. He took up the cold hands. “Pádraig…?” “Don’t ask that of
me. To give up those I love…” Jake despairingly spun
away. “Concentrate on
Alexander,” Beth encouraged her husband, leading him to sit where he could more
easily avoid Jake’s distress.
“Concentrate.” Patrick tried. “It’s so difficult to
reach him. Since he was compromised…” “See? There is already a degree of corruption, so
if I go…” Rafe caught Jake by the
scruff of the neck before he could reach the door, physically shoving him into
a chair and holding him there. “Do as you’re told.” “You don’t understand…” “Maybe I don’t. Maybe I haven’t shared all your experiences
and that makes it easier for me to trust Pat, but right now it feels like
you’re more liable to turn this on its head by mindlessly panicking than he is
by waiting a little longer.” “This isn’t mindless
panic,” Jake protested.
“It’s…concern.” His voice
dropped. “Fear. Mindful
fear.” Rafe crouched alongside
Jake and squeezed his wrist. “Too soon for that. We have hours.” “You don’t understand how
vulnerable Xander is. You’ve never been
challenged by—” Heads snapped around in
alarm but Jake caught the word before it could be formed. “You’ve never been challenged by…Him.” “And we’ve never had such
an ally before.” Jake took a deep breath
and nodded. “Spike.” “Spike.” “He’s strong, yes. He…”
Jake glanced around at the other worried faces, pleading for
reassurance. “He’ll keep Xander
safe. Get him here.” “I have no doubt of it,”
Beth smiled. “The blessing of the
misjudged.” “Blessing, yes,” Jake
muttered to himself, superficially placated, remembering promises made. Counting on Spike’s strength in every sense. … Xander was crying in his
sleep. Spike hurried in from the
bathroom and coaxed him out of the dream – simple enough to guess the subject
and there was no way that Xander was going to be left in misery and blaming
himself for the young demon’s demise. As
Spike cradled and crooned, water trickled from his freshly washed hair and
dripped onto Xander’s face and neck, distracting enough to make Xander pull
himself together to investigate, nudging Spike away to study this semi-naked
vision. “You’re so beautiful,”
Xander whispered hoarsely, more tears escaping as he stroked his fingertips
over this beloved face. “And I’m gonna
kill you. This is about me and I’m gonna
kill you the way I killed my folks, the way I killed Sammy, no-one’s safe…” “No, love, don’t believe…” “Spike. Please, I have
to… I don’t know. Oh, God.” Xander slumped into
Spike’s embrace, weeping and unreachable by any form of comfort. The minor hopes that
Spike had of easing Xander back into a more peaceful sleep were dashed as the
ward screeched above them and the house shuddered; downstairs the wolfhound
snarled, and Spike heard Hamish limping across the wooden floor as he hurried
to join them, the vampire concentrating so hard on the dog’s progress that
Xander’s shouted… “No!” …made him jump
ferociously, as did the crash of thunder that swiftly followed. With a terrified whimper, Xander pushed Spike
aside and toppled himself off the bed and onto the floor, scrambling to the far
side of the room and squashing into the corner.
Spike started to follow but Xander raised both hands in a desperate
gesture to stop him. “Ah, no. Where you go, I go, remember?” Spike crept closer until
he was able to lay a hand on Xander’s chest: the human was positively vibrating
with energy. “Xander… Are you…?” “Not all right.” Xander took Spike’s hand and clung to it,
momentarily forgetting his fear for his partner’s safety and appreciating the
one constant that he trusted implicitly.
“Something happened.” “When?” “Yesterday. No, Saturday. With – with…” “The vampires?” Xander’s eyelids
flickered shut, movement rapid beneath them.
His hands dropped Spike’s and rose in apparent benediction. “B - bur - burn,” Xander stuttered.
“I—” Spike jerked away at the
swell of heat. “Xander!” Brown eyes snapped open
and Xander was reaching out to snatch Spike back to him. “Not you, not you, never
you, love you.” Spike let himself be
hauled into Xander’s lap, winding his arms around his partner’s neck and
hugging possessively. “It was you?”
Softly; admiringly. “Somehow. Killed them?
That was the burning?” “Burning, yes. I don’t know it was me, I just know…I was a
part of it.” “Good then.” “Good?” “They didn’t get away
with it. With… Blue.” “Oh, fuck,” Xander
muttered, and then he was crying again, face buried in Spike’s neck as he
succumbed to mourning. … Spike left Xander curled
up with Hamish, two wounded souls huddled together, wheezing and sniffling,
temporarily secure and temporarily content and observing closely as Spike
passed through or pottered around the bedroom, putting the finishing touches to
his favoured persona. The nail polish
was no longer black, but close enough: metallic
graphite, it said on the bottle.
Chosen by Xander, one of the little treats he regularly brought home;
Xander was good at gifts now the necessarily expensive stuff was out of the
way. These days Spike would rather have
a packet of artist’s charcoal, chosen with thought and reflecting intimate
knowledge, than another thousand-dollar camera.
Who’d have thought? After dark, Spike left
man and dog dozing and went outside, studying the protective barrier above the
house with fascination; the backdrop of black and lowering storm clouds was lit
by the reflected glow of the ward: streaks of gold and amber, ripples of silver
and blue, all to the accompaniment of grumbling and creaking as it made its
final stand. His temperamental senses
were sharp enough to feel the extent of the power involved here, and even as it
waned and died it was mighty; awe-inspiring. Spike felt drawn, turning
in the direction of Patrick’s house and experiencing a sickening lurch in his
chest and gut. A longing. Time to
deal. He wasn’t the only one who
knew that. “Spike,” Xander called
weakly from the doorway, collapsed against the frame and using Hamish to help
prop himself up. “I have to leave, I
need…” “You don’t have to
explain, I feel it too.” Hurrying to Xander’s
side, Spike slipped an arm around his waist in support, ready for his partner’s
full weight as Xander predictably slumped against him. They moved toward the garage at a snail’s
pace, Xander refusing to be carried, stubborn to the last. “I’m sorry, I don’t have
any strength. Spike, I…” “Shh, save your energy.” “Spike.” Spike leant Xander
against the Merc and faced him, pinning the wilting form to the car with his
body. “Xander. Lovely,” he smiled tenderly. “Don’t leave me, will
you?” “Never.” “I mean… If something happens, if – if this is it…
Y’know? It?” “I know it.” “Promise me… Promise me…” Xander’s breathing became
laboured and he grasped at Spike in his fear, letting the vampire soothe him
with soft words and touches. “Let me sit you down.” “No! Spike…
I…” Once again Xander
struggled to breathe. “What is it? What do you feel?” Spike asked as calmly as
he was able. “It’s… Pressure.
But not. I’m being…pulled
apart.” Xander shook his head. “Can’t.”
With a massive effort Xander lifted his arms and hugged Spike. “I’m scared.
I can’t do this.” “Yes, you can. At your best when you’re at your worst, remember?” “No. Yes, I remember, but
no.” “Yes.” Xander leant their brows together, tightened his hold. “Promise me, if this is, y’know…” “It.” “It. That you won’t leave me alone. You go, I go.
Promise?” I can’t live without
you. “Live together or die together?” “Please?” You won’t live
without me. “If it’s within my power,” Spike swore, voice shaking with emotion
at the implications. “You?” “If it’s within my power,” Xander reciprocated. They shared several kisses, remarkably passionate for the moment,
before Spike gave Xander a final, tender version and a knowing smile. “C’mon then, Frodo. Let’s
get you up that bloody mountain.” A joke to disguise the
fear, and it worked, might even carry on working until they got as far as the
gate. Xander laughed and let himself be
helped into the passenger seat of the Merc, wincing as a cold, wet nose
attacked from the back seat and snorted over his neck. Spike disappeared for a few minutes,
returning and climbing in beside Xander, dropping the book onto his lap. Xander rattled the clasps. “Still locked.” “Yeah. I should’ve looked, shouldn’t I? When I had the chance.” “Maybe you weren’t meant
to. Maybe…maybe loosening its catches
was the book’s way of saying you had to bring it home, but if you’d tried to look it wouldn’t have allowed you
to. Or if you did look you wouldn’t have
been allowed to see.” “You’re starting to sound
like you know what you’re talking about.” “Really? Oh.
Don’t know how that happened.” “Me neither,” Spike
teased. “It’s very worrying.” Spike checked Xander’s
seat belt was fastened, took a deep breath, and started the car. Above them the ward flashed and screamed, the
sky rumbled and flickered with distant lightning. The car cruised slowly down the drive, and
the men glanced at one another as they waited for the gates to open. “Love you, sweetheart.” Spike opened his mouth to
reply, but nothing emerged, his throat choked by emotion. He nodded, and a further glance at Xander’s
face told him that was enough. Knuckles turning pure
white as he gripped the wheel, Spike sent up a prayer for his lover’s safety,
and floored the accelerator. As they left the
protection of Cedar House’s ward the car was hit by a ferocious force that sent
it careering along the rain-slippery road in a spin; Spike struggled to regain
control, using all of his formidable strength to do so, thankfully coming to a
virtual halt facing in the right direction.
In the rear view mirror he saw a bolt of lightning strike the dissipating
ward and plough through, leaving a steaming crater in the front lawn. He hit the gas and the car effortlessly
accelerated to a speed that Spike would never want Xander to know he was doing
in these dark and twisting lanes, spasmodically and distractingly lit by
flashes of light from above. The
occasional tree bore the brunt of the storm’s fury, but Spike gritted his teeth
and sped the car beneath the one massive cedar that threatened to block their
path as it came crashing down. Too many near misses and
Spike realised that whatever was orchestrating this attack was trying to stop
rather than kill them. Or Xander, at
least; Spike had no illusions about his own safety, or lack of it. The road before them suddenly bulged as a
nearby strike warped the surface with its energy and heat, and Spike
automatically put out a hand to press Xander back into his seat as they hit the
deviation and were launched into the air for several seconds before thudding back to the ground, suspension
shuddering with the impact. Both hands
back on the wheel and foot down. “All right, love?” No answer…
“Xander?” …and Spike risked a
look, only to see Xander passed out, body held upright by his seat belt, head
lolling. Refusing to believe that this
was anything other than sleep, Spike grimly concentrated on the road ahead,
counting down the minutes, the seconds to their destination. A last few swerves to
negotiate potholes and branches, the sudden wild swing of the car as one of the
tyres finally blew, and the Merc was hurtling through the open gateway to Patrick’s
house, screeching to a halt in a shower of gravel as a final violent crack
filled the air and crooked fingers of lightning streaked across the surface of
this residence’s intact ward. The car had barely
stopped moving before Spike was turning, reaching for his partner, unfastening
the seat belt and pulling the limp body into his arms, repeating Xander’s name
over and over until, with a painful, creaking breath, Xander managed to force
his eyes open and focus on Spike’s face. “God, you scared me,”
Spike whispered, clutching Xander to him in a fierce hug. “We there?” Xander asked
as quietly. “We there?” “Yeah.” Spike looked out through the windshield, instinctively up to the building’s attic where the only window flickered with yellow light. “We’re there.”
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