For a moment Xander found it impossible to move, every part of him aching and throbbing and suffering from the energy that still haphazardly spasmed through his body and felt like it was rearranging him at cellular level.

He stared at Spike’s motionless form, constantly reminding himself that, if nothing else, this experience had supposedly left them invulnerable and he wasn’t going to see his partner explode into dust before his eyes.

His peripheral vision told him that Rafe was in a bad way too, being tended to by Moira, and the blur he couldn’t quite focus on became Beth, crossing to Spike with a bowl of water, cloths and towel, quickly and methodically cleaning away the blood that still seeped from his eyes and ears and nose, not getting to the damage to his chest before Xander was finally moving and protectively stumbling to Spike’s side, unable to stop himself roughly pushing her away.

“Leave him alone, you don’t touch him, no-one touches him.”

Beth didn’t protest her treatment, simply righted herself and pressed the cloth into Xander’s hand.

“Take care of him.”

Xander nodded and rinsed the cloth, turning the water a bright red that made his stomach churn.  Delicately he began to clean the last traces from Spike’s pale skin, ignoring Beth as she began to wipe at Xander’s bearded cheek.

“Spike?  Sweetheart?”  Xander tried to use the bond to reach the vampire but was far too upset to concentrate.  “What happened to him?  I could feel him and then…  There was so much pain and he was gone, what if…”

“He’ll be okay.”

Shooting a look at where Patrick was standing over them, Xander found himself practically screaming at the man.

“You don’t know that!  How can you fucking know that!  If he’s…  If it’s the demon, if Taranis got to the demon…”

“Xander.  He’ll come round, and he’ll be fine.”

Xander just shook his head despairingly and grabbed at the towel, drying Spike’s face whilst whispering beseechingly to his partner to show the slightest hint of life.  Patrick wandered away, stooped, stood, wandered back, held out a hand with pinched fingers.

“What?” Xander snapped.  Patrick didn’t move.  “I’m not in the mood for games.”

Xander finally acquiesced, irritably reaching up to take whatever it was that Patrick was offering him.  A small, non-descript blood-tacky object dropped into his palm.  Xander frowned at it and looked questioningly up at Patrick, who said, simply:

“The chip.”  Staring blankly at the source of Spike’s vulnerability, Xander tried to figure it out, figure any of this out.  “I told you our bodies would revert to their original states.”

“But…you said Spike wouldn’t…”

“Become human.  He isn’t.  But his body rejected the foreign objects within it.”

Xander’s mind bounced between joy and panic as the news sank in.

“The chip?”

“The worst of the pain we felt, was that monstrous thing activating one last time as it was ejected.”

“We were told that taking it out would irreparably damage his brain.”

“Once, that would have been true.  I knew how delicate the situation was, I wouldn’t have taken this risk if I wasn’t sure he’d fully recover.”

“How did you know it was there?”

“I could sense it.  Once I knew he’d been…tampered with I carried out a little research.”

“You…?”

“Asked Angelus.”

“Angel?  You asked Angel?  He never said.”

“He wouldn’t have remembered.  Of course, he’ll remember now.  I, um…  Look forward to hearing from him,” Patrick finished unenthusiastically.

“Spike said you knew,” Xander said quietly, putting more pieces together, “and that he’d asked for help.”

“I couldn’t take a chance before.  Wouldn’t.  Not knowing that if we got to this moment he’d be rid of the damn thing and safely.”

“This is safely?”

“Yes.”

Still clinging to Spike, Xander took the time to look around the room.  Scattered across the floor were all the items that didn’t belong in or on their bodies: the metalwork that had kept Rafe’s hip and thigh together after his motorcycle accident, the fillings that had been ripped from their teeth, even…  Xander’s hand went to his ear and found a tear in his earlobe rapidly healing: the earring was gone.  The blood on Spike’s t-shirt, the small tears, corresponded to where the nipple rings had been; thoughts of these minor injuries were usurped as Xander washed away more blood to find a vivid scar on Spike’s neck.  William’s mortal wound.  The scar, the blood, the stillness, all combined to bring their ascendants last moments crashing back, and Xander folded over Spike, much as Alexander had slowly collapsed over William.

“Please, sweetheart, come back to me.  Don’t let this have been for nothing.”

“Bring him now, we need to get out of the Wheel before it reverts to normal.”

Handing back the cleaning implements to Beth, Xander scooped Spike up, effortlessly lifting him and letting out a relieved gasp as the vampire moaned and twitched.  Once Spike was propped up in his chair, Xander fussed over him, watching as Rafe was helped to his feet and assisted to the chair next to Spike’s.

“Okay?” Xander asked anxiously.

“Yeah.  Bit of a shock,” Rafe grinned at his own understatement.  “Will?”

Xander shrugged, a tight, nervous movement.

“I can feel him,” Willow told Xander as she crossed to them, crouching before Spike and taking up an unresponsive hand.  “Stop panicking and feel him.”

Xander tried, couldn’t immediately sense his partner, panicked some more, lost everything other than a distorted blend of consciousness and emotion.

“You can feel him?” Xander demanded reassurance.  “Spike, no-brain-damage Spike?”

“He feels…  Dozy.”

“He’s recovering,” Jake added as he too concentrated.

“Why can’t I feel him?”

Xander experienced the extraordinary sensation of being mentally led to his lover, and suddenly he was with Spike.  His cares wanted to fall away as he basked in the familiar presence, but…  This didn’t feel like the Spike he’d gone into the Wheel with and he couldn’t quite figure out what the difference was.

Patrick and Beth wandered over the carving, collecting the jewellery that had flown from the various bodies at Repossession, stopping to admire the platinum rings that gleamed on their fingers, turning to check that everyone was wearing one and sharing a relieved smile when they spotted one on Willow’s hand.

“It worked,” Beth announced with great satisfaction.  “I knew it would work.”

“I was afraid that she’d turn to Xander or Spike for comfort after the ceremony.”

“That wouldn’t have been too bad.”

“For Jake?”

Beth hesitated at the thought.

“He’d have understood.  Old friends, place of safety.”  She glanced over to where Willow was leaving Spike and automatically returning to Jake, being welcomed with a tender smile and having a gentle kiss pressed into her hair as he instinctively returned her hug.  “Not that we have to worry,” she happily sniffled.

The air around them shimmered as the Wheel was restored to its usual condition: the wooden floor became the grassy hillside above Dunscaith.

“Listen,” Patrick urged.

Beth did, and the happy sniffles increased.

“The ghosts have fallen silent.  Moved on to their eternal peace.”

“Everything seems quite per…”  Premature thoughts of perfection were cut off by the strangest rumble within the bond, and Patrick was barely able to call a warning to back off from the vampire before Spike was waking.

With a terrifying snarl Spike jerked to full consciousness, onto his feet, demon features to the fore and sharper, more pronounced than anything Xander was accustomed to.  The people around him scattered in shock, Rafe hobbling away with difficulty; even Xander felt the need to give him a few feet clearance while Spike had time to take in the situation, remember what had occurred here.

As he waited, Xander felt curiosity, sorrow, and more than a little awe seeping through to him as the majority of the family witnessed for the first time what had become of their son and brother.  He barely had a chance to hope that the demon’s presence wouldn’t change their feelings for Spike, when the vampire threw his head back and let out an exultant roar that Taranis himself would have been proud of.  Spike’s head slowly dropped, and he peered around, flexing muscles, flicking his head about as he became accustomed to whatever changes had overtaken him.  Or whatever damage the chip’s removal had done to his brain.

A few prowling steps and only Xander and Willow resisted the need to retreat further.  The feelings that trickled through from Spike were feral, aggressive, possessive.  Raw, unfocused, and very, very dangerous.

“Xander?” Willow whispered a completely open question, stifling her doubts about the un-chipped state of Spike because it was, quite honestly, what she’d wanted for a long time, even if she was naturally wary of the outcome.

“Joy of joys.  Unfettered vampire looking pretty damn mad,” Xander murmured.  He took a couple of steps in Spike’s direction, pausing as the golden eyes fixed menacingly on him, sensibly intimidated by a sullen growl.  “Spike?”  There seemed to be no recognition at all, and Xander knew he had to get Spike away from the people who understood him least.  He began to side-step, cautiously heading toward the darker reaches of the great hall, dropping his head to show submission and spying on Spike through the long locks that hung about his face.  “Spike.  You want to come with me and…”  The growl intensified.  “He must be pretty confused,” Xander said unsurely to those around him.  “William could be fine and it’s just that the demon is…ungrounded.  Maybe you should leave us alone?”

The slightest movement and Spike’s scarily intense focus was diverted to his wide-eyed family.

“I don’t think we’re going anywhere,” Beth quietly stated the obvious; quietly, but enough to draw the vampire closer, and it stalked her with an air of breathtaking arrogance.

“Spike!” Xander called, desperate to keep everyone safe and forgetting any far-fetched notions of immortality.  “Spike, come to me, please.  Spike!  Childe,” he tried, “Childe, come to me.”  Spike flinched in response but his attention didn’t waver.  “Master.  Master, your consort—”

In a rapid, liquid move, Spike spun and sprang at Xander; Xander fell back in fright as the vampire pounced, but not fast enough to prevent himself being seized and dragged close to the formidable demon visage. 

Patrick caught Hamish by the scruff as he darted forward, and for several frightening minutes the group waited in rigid anticipation for a word.

“What are you?” Spike asked Xander gruffly, scenting him repeatedly and being left confused and frustrated by the absence of Xander’s familiar smell, disgusted by the unnatural odours left from the time in the Wheel.

“Yours, I’m yours,” Xander gasped.  “Your consort, your mate, your…  Spike, it’s me, Xander, you know me, you know I love you.”

“I know?”

“You do, sweetheart, you do know.  I love you, I’m yours.”

A guttural snicker emerged as Spike pressed his mouth to Xander’s throat.

“Consort?”

“Yes!  Yes, can’t you smell it?  You’re all over me.  And you can see—”  The answer came abruptly to Xander.  Their bodies had been restored and…  His hand sneaked up to feel his own neck: the mark, Spike’s claim, had gone.  “It healed, the scar’s healed, you have to claim me again.  That’s…  Just…”

Wriggling against the intractable body, Xander managed to undo and discard his shirt, exposing his skin to the vampire, baring his throat submissively, making the consort’s offer to his master.

“You rejected me,” Spike whispered, “I should drain you.”

“Not rejected, healed.  The marks have gone, mine, yours, that’s why you feel disconnected, I feel it too.  Try to remember what happened tonight, we’ve both been changed.  I love you, Spike, I’m just waiting for you to make me yours again.”  Xander tingled with fear and arousal as Spike dragged his fangs over the offered flesh, longing for the intimacy of the act that would symbolise their own brand of belonging.  “Do it, sweetheart.”  One single prick of an incisor and Spike moaned as the flavour of Xander’s blood hit his restored senses, flooding the bond with hunger and desire, with Spike’s fervent need for his mate.  “That’s it, baby, you know me, I feel that you know me.”  Xander’s hands ran repeatedly over Spike’s arms, then slipped around to his back, stroking and stroking, recreating actions that Spike had been comforted by innumerable times.  “You know me?  Think of Xander, think of your consort.”

A further sip of blood and the facts began to fall into place.

“Xander,” emerged as a sultry murmur from the vampire, and Xander laughed softly in relief, showering kisses on the demon visage as their family looked on; Willow was trying to reassure them, Xander could feel, explaining the significance of the bite, the claim, but they were justifiably both stunned and fascinated by this show of affection for such an intimidating beast.

“Going to do it, Spike?  Make me yo—”

Xander cried out on a shuddering breath and his knees buckled as Spike bit brutally hard into the site of his original mark, lowering them both to the floor and pulling Xander into a disorganised heap of body parts, so close and becoming motionless as Spike clamped down his jaws, purring ecstatically as the demon revelled in the reclamation of his mate.

Family members collapsed onto their chairs as they were bombarded with the initial pain, followed by Xander’s soaring pleasure and satisfaction at this act, and Xander struggled to prevent himself being further exposed.

“Stop now.”  The words were virtually inaudible, even to Spike.  “Don’t make me come in front of them, I can’t cope with that.”  The volume of the purr leapt up at the thought.  “Please, Spike.  Master.  It should only be for you.”

Xander groaned as the grip on his neck was reluctantly eased and Spike began to lap up the blood that, once the pressure abated, poured freely.  Before now Xander might have denied that being consort was as fundamental, and had become as instinctive to him, as Spike’s master mentality, but the urge to claim in turn was something he couldn’t fight: he shuffled within Spike’s hold, yanked the neck of his t-shirt aside and, with mindless precision, found the site of his now-vanished claimant’s scar.  The bite was almost as powerful as a vampire’s and once again the family shared their experiences; Spike didn’t suffer from Xander’s sensibilities: it was with the purest trust he gave himself over to his beloved consort, and let his climax rush through him.

Xander focused entirely on Spike in the moments that followed, long moments of recovery when he tried his best to avoid discovering how involved the others had been in their private acts.  Better they knew some of it, he acknowledged, so they would understand how safe he felt with Spike, but the bite was as personal to him as their love-making and he couldn’t help his resentment at the intrusion.

Gradually their marks stopped bleeding, but Spike kept suckling, Xander kept fussing.

“You back with me?” he softly enquired.

“I’m back,” came the equally hushed reply.

“Can I ask…?”  Spike nodded.  “Any idea what just happened?”

Spike, already trying to figure it all out, thought some more.

“I think…it was the demon responding to having its senses fully restored but not being able to find anything familiar.  The smell’s all wrong here because of the Wheel, the pull of the claim was gone…  I wanted my consort and it seemed as if I’d lost him.  It – I – was…bewildered.”

“I thought it had to be something like that.  Hoped.  Disoriented not crazy, ‘cause I really don’t want to go back to the crazy demon guy days.”

“Did I hurt you?”

“No.  You gave us a bit of a scare.”

“I gave myself a bit of a scare.”

Xander heard the smile and brought his head back to meet Spike’s eyes.  The human countenance slid into place and Xander sighed in admiration.

“The grr face is different.  Kinda…more.  But this one…”

“Just me?”

“You.  Beautiful.”  Xander swallowed hard.  “Free.”

“Free?”

Xander fumbled in his back pocket for the chip and handed it over to Spike, who stared it at, bemused by both the object and Xander’s level of emotion.

“Don’t you know?”

Two and two abruptly made four, and Spike zoomed from bemusement to incredulity.

“The chip?”  Xander nodded.  “This is the chip?”  Xander nodded again and Spike studied the miniscule object.  “This pathetic scrap caused me all that agony?”

“No more.”

Spike exerted a little pressure and all that was left of the chip was powerless fragments.

“Free,” Spike repeated Xander’s word, but on top of everything else that had happened it was too much to truly take in just yet.  Right now he was more inclined to stop thinking altogether, press himself closer to Xander and let himself be kissed gently, hugged tightly, and he was more than content to hold on and on and…  Lying in Xander’s arms.  Alexander’s arms.

“Xander.”

“Hmm?”

“I remember.”

Once again Xander sat back to see Spike’s face, concerned to see tears welling.

“What…”

“Remember.”

At the vampire’s verbal and mental prompting, images of Sleat rushed into their minds, and in an instant the casual acceptance of the night’s events evaporated.  The magnitude of what had occurred struck each and every one of the family with unimaginable force, and what had been too much, too incredible to believe started to become real.  The recovery of a stolen heritage.  Repossession of a lost family.

Xander and Spike scrambled up and turned to…their parents, yes, parents, it was real, they could feel it, their parents, brothers, all real.  Spike’s fears over any negative reaction to him after the demon’s behaviour were dismissed in seconds by the expressions on the waiting faces.  They hurried across the hall to re-join the group, throwing themselves into the midst of one vast, tear-soaked embrace.

…

Moira brought Xander his shirt, joking about the last time she’d helped dress him as a boy, the first time he’d managed to successfully fold a great kilt for himself.  Before he fastened the buttons Xander noticed the scar on his body, the shape of a sword’s blade, and that memory came back hard – the thump to his back as he was run through, blood dripping from the tip of the sword onto William’s lifeless body.  He shivered, Moira hugged.  Spike felt his distress and swiftly joined them, shooing Moira away.  Cupping Xander’s face in his hands, Spike forced the man to look at him.

“I heard you, love.  I was going but I wasn’t gone.  I heard you say you loved me.”

“I didn’t think you knew.  That…”

“It doesn’t need to hurt now, though, does it?  Nothing’s going to hurt us again.”

Xander admired the determination in Spike’s words and leant forward into more comfort.

“Except the memories.”

“Well, yes, the memories,” Spike grudgingly agreed.  “But physically, the rest…  Bloody hell.  You want to say it?”

“Say what?”

“Immortal.  You.  Kin of a god.  Us.”

Xander stared at Spike blankly for a moment before performing the mother of all cartoon blinks.

“Stupid dream.  I will wake up.”

Spike chuckled and cuddled.

“That you will.”

“Spike.”  Patrick’s voice behind him; Spike looked questioningly around at where Patrick stood in the midst of a huddle.  “We felt your doubts, and…  We’re agreed: we want to address them.”

“No,” Spike frowned.  “No doubts.”

The others were automatically taking their seats, and somehow that indicated the seriousness of this matter.

“You felt we couldn’t accept you, after seeing your demon.”

Oh.  That.

“For a moment.”

“It was quite marked.  Quite…touching.  You feel like you’ll always be different.  Always be the outsider.”

“I am different.”

“You’re a part of us.”

“Yes, I know, but…  Face the facts, Pádraig, that can’t be entirely reciprocal.”

“I’m claimed, I’m yours,” Xander said with a smile.

“And that’s enough for the demon.  It’ll have to be enough.”

“No.”  Spike tutted dismissively at Patrick’s blank refusal.  “I’ve taken the demon into my family…”  Patrick started toward Spike, unfastening the top buttons of his shirt.  “The demon can take me into yours.  I’m willing to be claimed too.  And if you claim me, as head of the family…”  He gestured to the remainder of the group, knowing they would be accepted without individually needing to be bitten.

Spike’s jaw dropped at the suggestion, and the confident nods of his family left him completely dumbstruck.

Xander and Willow shared a grin.

“The Order of MacAurelius,” Xander chuckled and Willow surreptitiously joined in.  “Someone’s gonna be mighty macpissed.”

“Spike?”

“I – I can’t…well, shouldn’t…  Not without Angel…”  Gold sparkled in the blue of Spike’s eyes as the demon rose to Patrick’s invitation, and despite the vampire’s stuttered protestation he was already moving in Patrick’s direction; Xander immediately recognised the subtle change in Spike’s posture as he readied himself for what was essentially an attack.  “Once this is done, you can’t take it back, Pádraig,” Spike warned gruffly.

“I understand.  It’s been…that kind of day.”

The casual tone of Patrick’s voice fascinated Xander, and he was positively enthralled as he witnessed the demon emerge and strike with remarkable swiftness and precision, evidently intent on sealing this deal with all speed.   Gasps emerged from the observers as they were subjected, once again, to the sensation of being bitten, and fingers went to necks to explore the physical manifestation of the act.  After the initial flinch, Patrick waited patiently for Spike to be satisfied the claiming was complete, holding the vampire lightly by the biceps, thumbs stroking.

Spike felt as if he was teetering on drunk as he pulled away, his abrupt need to possess now assuaged, and he spent a full minute mentally chasing his bearings and eventually coming back to the here and now with a thunk as Xander ran his fingers down the demon’s still-pronounced spine.  Shake of the head and the human face returned, licking lips and trying to place a unique flavour that…

“You,” he accused Patrick.  “I’ve been tasting you.”

“What do you mean?” Xander asked, trying to draw Spike’s attention but failing as the vampire leant back in to lick up the last few drops of blood on Patrick’s neck.

“It’s why the human blood didn’t taste right.  This is what I’m used to.  Not neat, but…”

“Is that right?”  A bewildered Xander questioned.  “Spike’s been drinking your blood?”  Patrick held up his hand, finger and thumb close and indicating the tiniest amount.  “How the hell…!”

“Just a teaspoon between six pints,” Patrick assured them apologetically, cringing at being caught out, however inevitable that was.

“But that would mean Max…  God, I should have known, everything has been too damn convenient.”

“Why?” Spike asked simply.

“Protection, and maybe a little control – yes, sorry, sorry, I know you’ve hated the memory problems, but I did explain about the need for safety – and beyond that…  A connection.  I wanted to help my son, help make him strong again.”

“Make me…  Immune to fire, even?”

“That’s a combination of the blood and the amount of energy you’ve taken from me.”

Patrick was still looking uncomfortable under Spike’s scrutiny.

“There’s more.”

“Yes,” Patrick sighed.  “You asked me earlier about why Taranis focused on Xander.”

“You said it was because he was the first-born.”

“And that’s perfectly true.”

“Then you said we’d screwed up…”

“Not screwed up, I didn’t say that.”

“He found me through the blood,” Xander butted in, “didn’t He?  Through your blood, that you gave to Spike…”

“Not knowing that Xander drank from me.”

“It allowed my father a certain…access.  I’d tried to hide the both of you from Him, but had been concentrating on Spike ever since you got home from Seattle.”

“And that access let Him at Xander.  Like in Sunnydale, when you weren’t around to see Him off.”

“He tried to exploit the inherent darkness in the Heir, attempted to manipulate you, Xander.”

“I was trying to walk into fire, what would that have achieved?”

“The ultimate fire sacrifice.”

“I would have died?  But that doesn’t…”

“Your humanity would have died.  To His mind He would have been stripping away your imperfections, but we would have lost the most precious part of you.”

“To what end?”

“If you hadn’t been strong enough to resist Him back then, if you hadn’t rejected Him tonight…  You would have given Him a presence on Earth.  Not a good thing for an unstable god.”

Xander, Spike and Willow exchanged a look, thoughts of Glory in the forefront of their minds.

“Oh, yeah,” Spike muttered.  “We know a song about that.”

“Everyone here wears your mark,” Patrick told Spike in a very obvious topical side-step.  “No longer the outsider, Spike, I hope you believe that.  In fact, before tonight my undiluted blood would have killed you – your tolerance of it proves that you’re family.  Family in the purest sense.”

“Pat…” Xander began slowly as he mentally picked their situation apart.  “Can Spike live off me?  If I’m all the things you said I’d be after this, stronger and healthier and…”

“No!”

“Spike, will you let me get an answer?”

“You’re not my bloody food, I’m not going to…”

“If it’s what I want?  If it’s even possible.”

Spike grumpily held his tongue; Xander looked to Patrick.

“Spike can’t harm you now.  Even if he drains you you’ll be restored.”

“Out of the question,” Spike continued his protest, being the only person present not to notice the happiness and lust that trickled through the bond from his partner.

“Would he be able to turn me?  By accident?”

“No, not now.  That much of your blood and there’s a chance Spike may become addicted, but…” Patrick glanced between the two of them, “what’s new?”

“Xander, you are not going to…”

“Will you be quiet long enough to take this in?” Xander excitedly closed down Spike’s objections.  “This is something I want, and I’ll get.  Don’t even start to put up a fight.”

“What if it’s not enough?”

“What do you mean?”

“The demon walking out of here is un-chipped and, thanks to the power William’s inherited, umpteen times as strong as the one that walked in.  Feeding might not be enough.  The kill, y’know?  Maybe I’m looking for the kill.”

“Oh,” was all that Xander could manage.

“How about it?” Spike challenged Patrick.  “If I want to kill?”

“If you want to kill…”  Patrick trailed off in thought.

“Let me guess.  For all your fine sentiments you’ll have to put a stop to it.  A stop to me.”

“If you want to kill…  You must know that the blood will never satisfy you after Xander’s.  It’ll be…mere sport.”

“And?” Spike demanded.

“I only ask you to be selective; there are plenty of clan members here and I don’t want them damaged.”

“You’re telling me I can kill?” Spike clarified with heavy scepticism.  “You won’t stop me, you won’t make Xander stop me?”

“I have no right to stop you and you have every right to follow your instincts.  The human I am comes from a darker time, a ruthless, bloody time.  Before this life I witnessed countless fire sacrifices to my father and know the elation with which they were received.  Those you kill are part of a natural order, however unnatural your kind are considered to be in this day and age.  I understand about being true to what you are, Spike, and I will never condemn you for it.”  A kind smile broke out.  “Beyond that…  You are my son and I will love and support you in all things.”

“William was your son.”

“I’m not going there again,” Patrick airily dismissed the argument.

“William was pretty bloodthirsty,” Jake volunteered.  “Don’t mix the original up with nineteenth-century man.  I’ve seen you – him – you…”  He stopped for a deep breath.  “I’ve seen Will slice a man’s ear off over a bad bet.”

Xander was nodding by then, shocking himself with his acceptance, but relieved by the fact it came from him rather than the recently obliterated darkness that had polluted his body: a happening as huge and welcome as the chip’s removal but something that had been lost in the flurry of post-Wheel events.  So, Xander’s own acceptance.  Acceptance didn’t mean liking though, and without that darkness the prospect of Spike killing sat uneasily.

“You really think you’ll need to?  Humans, I mean.”

“I want it to be up to me.”

“No-one seems to be disputing that right.  It’s entirely up to you.  Spike.  Baby.  Sweetheart.”

“Oh, love, for pity’s sake, put the pleading eyes away!  No humans, all right?  Unless it’s necessary, or appropriate, or someone pisses us off, or I plain feel like—”  Xander threw his arms around Spike and crushed him in a hug.  “Can’t believe I talked you into this.  Revived the sodding white-hat.”

“You fell in love with the white-hat,” Xander reminded him in a mumble against his shoulder.

“I fell in love with some shaggy-faced bruiser in a skirt a few hundred years ago, and it sounds like I’ve been punished for it ever since.”

With a bustle of activity, everyone was on their feet at once, excitedly sharing returning memories, discussing the experiences of the night, studying the swiftly healing scars that the vampire’s bite had left on their necks.  A tap on the attic door and Beth went to answer; she returned a few minutes later, distinctly clearing her throat to secure everyone’s attention.

“The clan is gathered,” she grandly announced.

“The clan?” Xander frowned as he peeled himself away from Spike.

“Descendents of our original…”

“Wait…  Didn’t you say they were all…?”

“Don’t you dare ruin the dramatic impact of my story!”

“But…”

“You can see where Spike gets it from,” Willow murmured to Jake, not quietly enough, and they all began to giggle.

“You better mean my dashing good looks or you’re in trouble,” Spike warned to yet more giggles.

“So, the clan?” Xander pursued.

“There are direct descendents of the original clan,” Moira explained.  “We’d better pretend that was somehow miraculous, although how Beth manages to explain Cora being her sister’s daughter’s daughter’s daughter’s… ”

“Her family were in Lochalsh,” Beth insisted, “and you know that!”

“Cora?” Spike asked smugly.  “My family?”

“Family,” Beth confirmed.

“Yours not mine?”

Seeing Xander’s disappointment, Beth came and gave him a hug.

“Ours.  Everyone is ours.  Every person waiting downstairs is ours.”

“All here, so…”

“Homing instinct.”

“Like me in Seattle.”

“Exactly.”  Beth leant back and stared at Xander in silence for a full minute, before deliberately calling him…  “Xander.  Xander.  I can call you Xander, at last.  I used to feel the chill of the grave when I said it, but now…  Xander, Xander, Xander,” she sang, catching Xander’s grinning face in her hands and landing a smacking kiss on his cheek.  “Now, let’s go and celebrate!”

Beth led the way, and most of the family, including a thankfully whole Hamish, followed; Xander listened to Rafe and Moira as they started down the gloomy staircase…

“You think I can risk eating seafood?”

“You may still blow up but at least it won’t kill you.”

“That isn’t as reassuring as—  Hey!  I can see in the dark!  Way to go, Spike!”

…and wondered what else had been shared.

“Think I’ll be able to hold a tune now?” he asked Patrick, urging Spike to go on without him.

“With Hugh’s family in the mix, perhaps you will.  You know our side is doomed to flats and sharps.”

Xander joined Patrick, the two of them standing side-by-side and gazing into the Wheel.

“Do we have to do something with this?  Close it down, or…?”

“It’s not a Hellmouth,” Patrick grinned.

“Do you still need it?  For the energy?”

“No.  Our own power has been restored, nothing will interfere with that.”

“You’re alive, properly alive now?”

“We are, and we all have an enhanced life force.  You may feel the difference in yourself once the distractions have passed.”

“How long will the bond last?  I mean feeling everyone through it, ‘cause the bond itself will last forever, right?  I don’t want to lose that.”

“Don’t worry, you can’t lose the belonging.  But the sharing…  I doubt it will last long.  Another day maybe.  Much more and we’d all go crazy.”

“It’s been…reassuring, during…” Xander waved a hand over the Wheel.  “But…  Yeah, craziness on the near horizon.”

“While it’s active we just have to be careful, particularly until Jake and Willow have decided whether they’re to be friends or more.”

“We could influence that?”

“Easily.  When you and Spike claimed one another earlier, the feelings were overwhelming.  If they’d lasted much longer we would have had an orgy on our hands.”

Xander grinned and blushed.

“’Kay.  No naughty stuff.  That’s going to be fun, convincing Spike.”

“I’m sure he’ll understand.”

“Maybe.  But he’s more likely to want to go ahead and persuade Willow and Jake to get together.”

“Don’t let him.”

“It has to be their choice, I know.  But it would be…”

“Nice.”

“More than nice.”

Xander was still staring at his spiral, where he’d stood during the ceremony.

“Go ahead,” Patrick encouraged, “it’s quite safe.”

“Oh, sure, felt it.”

“The Wheel is back to its benign self.”

“Uh-huh.”

Xander switched his suspicious look from the Wheel to Patrick and back to the Wheel.  He cautiously stepped inside and found himself back on the grassy ridge, sunshine warming his face, the scent of sea and heather surrounding him.

“It’s not like before,” Patrick’s voice echoed through to him.  “Unfortunately, you can’t move from that place, or communicate with the people.”

“Can I bring Spike here?  I mean, can we visit here together?  So he can be in the sunshine?”

“Whenever you want.”

Xander took the reverse step that brought him outside the carving, and he wobbled slightly, glad to feel a steadying hand on his arm, still surprised to recognise who it belonged to and blurting out…

“My father.  You’re—”

Much as he had earlier, Patrick pulled Xander into his arms, holding him tightly and shuddering with the effort it took to contain his feelings.

“Am I getting too old for this?” Xander fell back into the familiar routine in a vain attempt to smother his own raging emotions.

“How old are you?” came the automatic response.

“You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”  Patrick’s expected laughter was full of tears rather than humour.  “Hey, don’t, don’t,” Xander told him with a shaking voice.  “We’re okay, together, we’re all together.”

Patrick leant his head against Xander’s, whispered to him when the lump in his throat allowed.

“I was there when you were born, Xander, determined that my hands would be the first to hold you, and…  You were the most miraculous thing I’d ever encountered.  This tiny child in my arms, created by a mortal love I was never meant to experience, the greatest reward my humanity could offer.  I adored your mother, but I lost my heart to you.”

“Pat…”

“Perhaps you’ll understand how extraordinary a moment that was for me – for us – when what’s happened here sinks in.  Right now, everything you’ve been told, everything you’ve been through, has skimmed across the surface.”

“That isn’t fair, I’ve tried so hard to cope with this.”

“I promise you it wasn’t a criticism.”

“And…”  Xander pulled back slightly to meet Patrick’s watery eyes.  “I know I’ll never have a child of my own, but I kinda feel that way about Dawnie and, if she ever has kids, I’ll turn the whole damn world on its head to keep them safe.”

“Let’s hope you never need to: someone around us deserves a normal life.”

An extended, silent hug ensued, Patrick calmly relishing the contact, Xander trying to stop his overloaded mind racing.  With a sigh and a nod, Xander eventually dropped his arms and turned back to the Wheel.

“What happens to Taranis now?  One minute He was all over us, next He was gone, that seems a little too easy.”

“He was forced to keep his word.  Once we’d returned to Sleat there was nothing He could do without incurring the wrath of Teutates and Esus if He broke his oath, and I doubt we’re worth that.  After all, this wasn’t about love for Him, this was merely about getting His own way.  Still, I believe you’ve been there before, seen that human love can conquer the less wholesome desires of gods.”

“Oh, yeah,” Xander agreed; Glory again.  “Are we at any kind of risk now?  He penetrated the ward at our house, turned us against one another.”

“Nothing like that will happen again, you have your own power, you’re too strong for Him to influence.”

“But you said we’re impervious to all but the gods, and He’s one god with several pretty good reasons to be pissed with us.”

“If He was going to extinguish us we’d have been gone after Seattle.”

“Because Spike threatened you?”

“Because we saved Spike.  Defying a foul-tempered god to save a demon He wanted dead might be considered foolhardy by some,” Patrick smiled, “so if we can live through that, I’d say we’re safe now.  Who knows, maybe He’ll realise He wants His family and He’ll come around in time.”  Patrick wandered toward the door.  “Give the stubborn bastard a millennium or so to sulk over this.  Meantime…He’s no loss.”

Unlike…

“I, umm…” Xander started awkwardly, and Patrick looked back.  “Your mom.”

“Yes?”

“What was her name?”

Patrick swallowed another of those hard swallows that seemed to accompany any mention of his mother.

“He never allowed us to know.  To Him she was more a…a…function, than a being.”

“That’s—”  Xander forced his immediate sorrow and anger down, not wishing to share it.  “I’m so sorry she…”

“Helped us break free.  Survive.  I doubt she’d want us to see it any other way, she wouldn’t want us to dwell on her sacrifice.  At last she’s free of Him, but…”  Patrick reverently touched the platinum ring on his finger.  “She’s also a part of us, a part we can experience.  She—”  Patrick took a moment to deal with his rising emotions, much as Xander had moments before.  “Come on, let’s join the others.  I don’t know about you, but I’d kill for a beer.  And Spike may already have.”

“Not funny.”

“Okay.”

Xander followed Patrick into the dark stairway, blinking at the sudden sharpness of his sight in the dim light and grinning so widely he thought his face might split.  He was almost disappointed to find the conventional power back on and depriving him of the chance to experiment with his new ability.  Downstairs, Patrick headed for the kitchen, but Xander noticed Spike sitting on the small bench by the front door; for a moment he stopped and gazed at the vampire, his vampire, and purely loved.  He noticed a smile appear as the emotion reached Spike, but he didn’t look over, just carried on with what he was doing: fussing Hamish.  Fussing and fussing and fussing Hamish.

Spike had taken the opportunity to clean up, now wearing a dark red shirt that reminded Xander of being offered as a meal a long time ago.  Or rather, not so long ago in the recently revised big picture.  Spike’s hair was damp, curling where strands rested on his shoulders, and Alexander recognised William, the first William, in the casual way the vampire flicked it back when it fell in his face as he leant over his hound.

“I had this mental picture of him being like a car toy,” Spike said as Xander approached.  “Y’know those dogs with the wobbly heads?”

“He seems fine.”

“He is.  Like we all seem to be.”

“Willow?”

“Happy enough.  I think she was right, about going into this understanding more than us.  And she’d a bit more time to get used to it, even if it was only a couple of hours.”

Xander sat beside Spike and draped his arm around his shoulders; Spike automatically leant in, turning his face for a kiss.  Patrick passed through.

“You coming in?”  He pointed to where the clan awaited.

“Soon,” Xander replied, and Patrick carried on, laughing at the whoops and cheers that greeted him when he opened the living room door.

Xander turned his attention back to Spike, burying his face in the loose waves, smelling shampoo that instantly reminded him of Beth.

“Why didn’t you go in with the others?”

“I was waiting for you.  Thought we should make an entrance.”

“I don’t think…”

“Willow nipped out to tell me that they’re all excited about meeting the Heir.  Remember in the Chronicles?  How you were described?”

“Umm…  Needy individual looking for friendship and more, solvent, good sense of humour.”

Spike sniggered and prodded Xander in the chest.

“Centre, heart and focus.  That’s what they want.”

“Think anyone would notice if we sneaked out?”

Climbing over Hamish’s sprawled self, Spike stuck out a hand and coaxed Xander to his feet.

“Do this.  You’ll be glad you did later.”

“Will I?”

“I don’t have a clue, but you know you can’t get out of it, so…”

Xander let himself be raised and led.  He paused as he reached for the door handle.

“Clan, huh?  I wonder…”

“Don’t.  Don’t wonder.  Just do it.”

As Xander tried his best to surreptitiously enter the room he was met by a barrage of noise similar to that which had greeted Patrick, and a second cheer went up as Spike followed him in.  The anxiety that had been screwing Xander’s guts into a knot dispersed as he found himself surrounded, not by ancient rampaging Scots, but by familiar faces: friends he’d met at the MacDonald’s parties, people he worked with, Donny from the bar, Simon from the restaurant, Lydia from the store, Max – naturally, Max – and they greeted him with hugs or friendly slaps to the back or hearty handshakes.

“I should’ve guessed it was all of you.  What the hell was I worried about!”

Cold fingers emerged from the crowd to seize upon Xander’s right hand and squeeze hard.

“I know I’m not truly entitled to be here, Alex, not being clan as Max explained it, but there is the question of now belonging to Master Spike, what with the blood, and I couldn’t not be here when I found out tonight was the night because I always sensed you were Vuurda and I had to see what would happen when you were no longer latent but overt in your power, and this is so wonderful, congratulations.”

Xander, open-mouthed, disbelieving eyes brimming with moisture, stared at the cheery face that had turned a breathless blue during the babble.

“Sammy?”

“Please, please, Alex, may I interview you and write the account?”

“Sammy?”

“Perhaps I should check with Master Spike.  And Patrick, naturally, and…  I should interview everyone!  This is so exciting!”

“Sammy?”

“Yes, you’re right, greet the Master now, the rest can wait.  Excuse me.  Congratulations again.  Nice beard.  Excuse me.”

Xander watched his recently dead friend winding through the mass of bodies to where Spike was in deep conversation with Cora, or rather listening intently as she talked at the speed of light and he failed to get a word in edgeways.  Xander saw Spike fall completely still when he noticed the M’lura’s presence, felt the tumult of emotions within the bond, recognising them as a perfect reflection of his own.

“Might’ve…er…misled you a little,” came Max’s voice from behind Xander.

“Sammy,” Xander accused as he turned to confront the man.

“Hmm…  Where to start…”

Xander pointed.

“Sammy.”

“Well, y’see…  Spike’s blood triggered a healing coma: M’lura demon in a coma may as well be a corpse.  I kinda knew that if I was honest, and you were waiting on the boy coming round, you wouldn’t leave his side.  Nothing to say when he’d wake, and you might’ve missed tonight.  You couldn’t afford to miss tonight.”

“Sammy,” Xander grinned, and having this out with the unrepentant individual grinning back at him could wait.  “Sammy.”  He swiped away the single tear that managed to escape as joy and relief got the better of him and, finally, all he could do was laugh.

Repossession 119       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

Site Updates     Update List     Home     Fiction     Gallery     Links     Feedback