Evening.  Xander was aware that Spike wasn’t as bright as he’d been earlier, that there was something bothering him, but he seemed determined not to give Xander a chance to ask questions or fuss over him.  When, after dinner, they’d spoken to their friends in Sunnydale Xander had watched Spike make the effort to be…himself, and it had been a highly visible effort; he’d also witnessed Spike’s relief when Jake begged the phone away to introduce himself to the other half of this extended family.  Spike seemed happier when Patrick and Beth, then Rafe and Moira arrived, but Xander was sure that was because it diverted attention.  Xander did persist but after he’d been brushed off a sufficient number of times, he fell back on the hope that Spike would eventually tell him what was on his mind.

Presents were exchanged, although Spike insisted that anything for him be put to one side for opening later, and with the unpacking of Rafe’s latest toy – miniature racing cars and a mind-boggling amount of track that was set up through the living room and hall – the evening descended into a farcical contest.  As Xander launched into boisterous competition with Moira, Spike wandered off to the kitchen for a few minutes peace, sitting at the table and laying his head on folded arms.  Minutes later he was aware of Jake sitting opposite him.

“You okay?”

“Yeah,” Spike answered with looking up.

“Need Alex?”

“No.”

“Want me to go?”

“No.”

A hefty pause passed in surprisingly un-awkward silence.  With a sigh Spike sat up and turned his attention on the dark box that sat between them.

“Did I upset you earlier?”  Spike gave a reserved shrug.  “Alex told me you’re not used to people showing you consideration.  That your background is full of crap and you always expect the worst.  He said anything nice throws you.  I didn’t mean to throw you.”

Spike glanced at the concerned expression and felt quite sorry for the earnest young man.  He faked a genuine smile.

“I’m not upset.”  Much.  “Where did you find it?”

Jake brightened.

“At an antique fair.  That’s where I get all my presents, you saw that from what I gave the others.  Anyway there’s this one place I go to that specialises in shipments from the UK and I like to look there for things that will appeal to Beth because she’s so far from home.  I was just browsing and I found the pen, and I don’t honestly know why but I thought of you.”  Jake stopped for breath and the brightness faded.  “You hate it, don’t you?”

Jake was so very convincing; Spike had to question whether this was simply a coincidence, however extraordinary.  He opened the box and studied the fountain pen, remembering the first time he’d been presented with it, feeling a pang of loneliness that made no sense.

“It’s very special,” he told Jake with another smile.  “I’ll treasure it always,” he said softly, repeating words from so many years ago.

“There the two of you are,” came Beth’s voice from the doorway.  “Too much noise for you?” she asked Spike as she strolled over to the table and took a look inside the box.

“Bit tired, that’s all.”

“This is beautiful.”

“From Jake.”

Beth bestowed one of her best smiles on the young American, who no longer seemed quite so worried.

“It suits you, Spike, elegant and golden.”

“Elegant and golden,” Spike couldn’t help the laugh.

“I think so.  You’re certainly elegant, in your own…particular way.”  She raked through the hair on the crown of his head.  “And golden soon enough.  Couple more trims and you’ll be back to natural.”

“What do you think?”

“Good.  It’ll look good.”  There was a gale of noise from the hallway; Beth turned to Jake.  “Go and get those noisy wretches to give it up for the night.  Tell Patrick he’s playing daddy with the ghost stories.”  Back to Spike as Jake left.  “You don’t mind?  I noticed the book.”

“Better than that racket.”

Beth’s hand slid to the back of Spike’s head; he felt the chip start to react and flinched.  Beth’s hand flew away.

“I’m sorry, did I do that?”

“Just a tender spot. Must’ve banged it.”  Spike rose and headed for the kettle, changed the subject.  “Gimme a hand with some drinks?”

“I’ll just check what everyone wants.”

Beth left the kitchen and Spike leant against the counter, taking a few deep breaths and wondering what the hell just happened.

…

Everyone settled down to listen as Patrick began to read the first ghost story.  Everyone but Spike.  He wandered the room, listening distractedly, feeling baffled and weary and a little lost.  Wanting Xander, needing to be close, desiring nothing more than comfort and reassurance at this point but having no idea what the proximity rules were in this company.

Another circuit of the room and Xander caught his attention with a quiet, ‘Hey’, bringing the vampire to him with a gesture.  Taking Spike’s hand, he coaxed him down onto his lap and pulled him close, feeling the very minor resistance dissipate within seconds as the vampire fidgeted and folded into his favourite position.  Soft kisses in his hair, the soothing drone of Patrick’s voice, and Spike relaxed into the comfort zone, nuzzling Xander’s neck and drifting off to sleep.

Xander settled back and relaxed too.  It felt good/strange/liberating to be able to hold Spike like this and not worry about what people thought, this family being the most accepting he could imagine.  No, actually, beyond what he could imagine.  But then, they didn’t know Spike was a vampire with a reputation that could make a grown demon scamper home crying to its mother, and his Sunnydale family did include an ultra-protective slayer who was always going to worry about a little thing like that.

Everyone started to giggle quietly as Patrick decided the story needed the authenticity of a few colloquial accents and individual deliveries; the evil ghost was apparently Texan borne and bred, the heroine was Marilyn Monroe in a former life, the hero broad Scottish in deference to his and Beth’s ancestry.  Xander had a protracted moment of acutely missing Willow, wishing she could have been here for this because she’d have loved it, but that train of thought was interrupted by a single gesture from Spike: his hand flicked up defensively before being clutched back to his chest.  Xander started to sit up to tighten his hold but it was too late, and with a distraught cry the vampire broke out of his nightmare and away from Xander, hurling himself to the far corner of the room and screwing himself into a ball, arms wrapped around his head.  Xander gestured to his now silent friends to stay put as he quickly followed Spike, kneeling as close as he knew the vampire would allow.

“Lexy, should we go?” Moira asked quietly, already beginning to gather up her belongings.

“No, don’t move,” Xander replied urgently in a hushed tone.  “Don’t move, don’t speak, he won’t even know you’re there.  If you move he’ll get confused, think you’re someone you’re not, someone…  I’m sorry, but stay.  Don’t move.”

Xander turned his attention to Spike, inwardly cursing himself for becoming complacent and not noticing what was happening after months of bitter experience.  He’d missed the first breath, the first tremor.  Fuck!  This was so private yet there was no privacy, and Xander felt awful, for both Spike’s continued suffering, and for the people who shouldn’t have to witness it.  He’d managed to let them all down.  Double fuck!  Despite his anger at himself, when he spoke it was tenderly, revealing nothing of the self-recriminations.

“Hey, Spike.  It’s me, it’s Xander.  Look at me, Spike, it’s Xander.”  The only response was a shuddering breath, but at least it indicated the vampire was listening.  Xander inched closer.  “Spike, sweetheart, it’s Xander.  Can you look at me?  Spike, look at Xander.”  Xander reached out and laid a tentative hand on Spike’s arm, feeling a fresh wave of trembling at the contact.  “Spike, I need you to wake up for me, wake up all the way.  Can you do that for Xander?  Spike, look at me.”

There was a long, long pause as Spike shakily unfurled his arms, careful not to break contact with that warm hand, and took a wary glance in Xander’s direction.

“Help me,” he little more than mouthed.

“Spike, Spike, it’s okay, it’s Xander, you’re safe with me.”  Edging closer as he spoke softly.  The vampire froze and Xander’s hand rose to caress his face, letting Spike turn into his palm to scent him.

“Xander,” he whispered vaguely in a broken voice.  “Xander.”  He allowed himself to be pulled onto Xander’s lap, pressed against his chest, abruptly scrabbling to get closer still.  “Don’t let them take me.  Don’t let them have me.”

Xander slipped into the well-practised routine of assurances, hands stroking, stroking, pushing calm into the anguished form.

“They don’t get you again, Spike.”

“They hurt me.”

“I know.  Never again.”

“Am I bleeding?”

“No.  That stopped.  A long time ago.  You’re safe now.”

“Make me safe.”

“Xander’ll keep you safe, don’t you worry.”

“Safe.”

“That’s right, you’re safe, everything’s okay.”

“Don’t let them take me.”

“You’re safe with Xander.”

“They hurt me.”

“Shh.  I know.  No-one gets to hurt you again.”

Another long wait until Spike jerked back and looked at Xander, wild unseeing stare at last focusing on his partner’s face; there was wakeful recognition and Xander took a deep, relieved breath as he accepted this wasn’t to be one of their more traumatic and prolonged episodes.

“Xander?”

“Xander.  You’re safe.”

With a tremendous shiver Spike sank into the warm embrace and clung to Xander.

“Safe.”

“Safe.  I’ll keep you safe.”  Xander began to gently rock them.  “I love you and I’ll keep you safe.”

“Don’t leave me.”

That was the one that hurt the most and no, time did not appear to be a healer.  Xander squeezed his eyes shut tight, feeling the tears welling behind the lids.

“I won’t leave you, I’ll never leave you,” he assured Spike fiercely, crushing the vampire to him until he felt bones creaking under the pressure.  “I’m here, Xander’s here, and you’re safe.”

Xander felt the change in Spike’s body as belief in his security was re-established, tense muscles loosening as he moulded to the human’s form.  Spike burrowed his face into Xander’s neck and fastened on, blunt teeth holding the flesh firmly but painlessly, tongue lapping repeatedly as the familiar taste swept away any final reservations.  They were through the worst, Xander accepted, almost too easily to be believed.  He continued whispering words of love and support as the vampire persisted with the gentle suckling, knowing he’d be marked again and hating the association this particular mark would have.  Finally opening his eyes, a movement caught his attention: Patrick gestured to the book.  Xander nodded gratefully and, after the few seconds it took for Patrick to find his place, the older man’s voice broke the silence, returning the collective attention to demons of the literary variety.

It took the remainder of the story for Spike to be coaxed back to the sofa, sitting awkwardly on the edge of a cushion, head in hands, as Xander knelt before him, still fussing and reassuring and generally overcompensating because of the presence of his friends and the rumblings of guilt insisting that somehow they had caused this reaction.  Eventually Spike stood and brushed past him, wandering out of the room without a word or a look.  Going for blood, Xander knew, and that was a good thing unless he brought it back to the living room to drink.  I’ll deal.  Xander took a deep breath and released it as a long pained sigh before turning and sitting on the floor, back against the sofa.  He spent a few minutes unscrambling his brain before noticing the silence; he was the centre of anxious attention.  Fuck.

“Sorry about that,” he apologised, scraping his fingers through his hair, feeling nervy and irritable enough to pull handfuls out.  “But it’s pretty usual; don’t let it get to you.”  And that sounded about as convincing as – as…  Ah, shit.

“Alex, I’m so sorry.”  Beth’s voice was quiet and concerned, and Xander gave her as much of a reassuring smile as he could manage, looking quickly away when the glint of unshed tears in her eyes threatened to set him off.  “I didn’t realise – none of us realised – what it could be like.  What it’s still like.”

“Don’t be kind,” Xander warned as he found the patch of carpet to his side particularly fascinating.  “I’m not strong enough to cope with kindness and I don’t deserve it.”  After a few minutes of tangible expectancy he glanced around at the curious faces.  “I missed it starting.  I wasn’t paying attention and I missed it starting.  I should’ve caught that and stopped it before it hurt him.”

“How often does this happen?” Patrick asked, having adopted the vocal equivalent of kid gloves.  “If you don’t mind telling me.”

“It depends on how he’s feeling.  If it’s a good week…”  If he’s daily trapped in some fucking awful hex for eighteen hours at a go.  “…it’s not a problem.  When he’s…  If he’s really bad…”  And hexless because he’s terrified I’ll stake him while he’s under.  “…it’s all the time, whether he’s awake or asleep.  PTSD.”  The initials said as if they explained it all and, to Xander’s relief, it looked like they did as people took it on board and nodded grimly.  Obviously not everyone had to make notes from conversations with Giles or Willow and spend hours on the internet researching.

“Xander.”  Spike leant in the doorway looking like he’d been emotionally kicked from here to the Hellmouth.  He didn’t, couldn’t see anyone but Xander, focusing intently on his human as Xander rushed to him, swept him into the privacy of the hall.

“You okay?”  Nod.  “Want to go to bed?”  Nod.  “Want to use the hex?”

Spike slid his arms around Xander’s neck and pulled him into an unhurried, blood-flavoured kiss.

“Rather use you.”

“Do you remember that our friends are still here?”  Moment’s thought and a nod.  “Look, you get some rest and I’ll wake you up when they go.”

“That’s right, love, you just treat me like some fucking wind-up toy,” Spike told him bitterly as he pulled away.

“No, Spike, I didn’t…”

Spike flew up the stairs, Xander in fast pursuit.  In the bedroom Spike yanked off his clothes and climbed into bed.

“Just do this for me and leave me alone.”

Xander crawled onto the bed and onto the bed’s occupant, dropping heavily and feeling Spike wriggle to get comfortable beneath his weight.

“Don’t turn snarky bastard on me,” Xander smiled as he bit along Spike’s jaw.

“Fuck off, Xander.”

“I’m going to finish off the night with our friends, and then I’m going to come and fuck my beautiful vampire until dawn.  How’s that for a plan?”

“Just…just fuck off,” Spike repeated, sounding somewhat less convincing.

“You’ll be rested, I’ll have a drop of your blood.  We can play for hours.”  The reply was never made: as Spike opened his mouth to protest it was filled by a hot, insistent tongue that demanded his full attention as it teased and provoked.  He responded with a growl, hands finding their way into Xander’s clothes, hips grinding up as he rapidly hardened.  “That’s more like it,” Xander grinned when he eventually broke the kiss, repeatedly squeezing Spike’s erection through the covers.  “Take it easy for now and later…”

“Xander, don’t leave me like this,” Spike pleaded.

Xander’s smile softened and he shook his head, sliding off the side of the bed and kneeling, diving under the bedclothes and immediately taking Spike’s cock into his mouth.

…

The taste of Spike on his tongue and hex instigated, Xander returned downstairs, drawn to the kitchen by the sound of pottering.  Moira was making drinks, humming away to herself about as tunefully as Xander could manage.

“Shall I do that?”

“Only if you’re very possessive about your kitchen.”

She took a glance at him, then a second, and smirked.

“What?”

“Have you been doing what you look like you’ve been doing?” she giggled.

“Umm…do I look like I’ve been innocently whispering sweet nothings to get my boyfriend to sleep?”

“That would be a no.  Sit down.”  Xander did as he was told and Moira tidied his hair for him.  “Can’t do much about the flush, mind,” she stroked his cheek and started giggling again.  “Or the mouth.  You better have a cold drink.”  Xander ran his fingers over his lips: red hot and faintly swollen.  That’d teach him to be so enthusiastic.  “Sexy Lexy indeed.”

“Hey, cut me some slack.  I have hormones trying to make up for lost time.”

“Okay, okay.”  The giggles died away to be replaced by a look of genuine affection.  “You’re happy.  I’m glad you’re happy.  I didn’t think it would ever happen and I got so worried about you sometimes.”

“What do you think of Spike?”

“I like him, I like him a lot.  Which is why what happened earlier is so upsetting.  If it upsets those of us on the outside…  I’m sure you’ve been asked a hundred times, but how do you manage?”

Xander shrugged.

“I just do.  Sometimes it’s easier when there’s no choice, y’know, when you just have to get on with it.  He came to me and there was no choice but to manage.  I’ve loved him for a long time: there was never any question of there being a choice.”

“Oh, Alex,” Moira said sadly, moving behind Xander and leaning down to wrap her arms around him in a solid hug.  “I wish you’d called, I wish I’d been here to help you.”

Xander held her arms and squeezed.

“That was never possible.  One day, when I can talk about it without falling to pieces, I’ll tell you it all.”  Well, nearly.

“Do that.  You have to trust us, let us be here for you.  You know we love you, Alex, we all love you.”

Yes, Xander did know, but hearing the words was a wondrous thing.

“Thank you,” he whispered, trying to talk past the lump in his throat.

Moira shushed Xander and cuddled him in silence, feeling the young man lean into her embrace.  She was glad beyond expression that he was finally able to accept the support and comfort, and if this state had been achieved without such heartache she would have found the situation perfect.  To feel so protective yet be kept at arm’s length had been frustrating and distressing and, although she shared Bethia’s delight at William’s thoroughly unexpected arrival, she would always be biased toward Alexander, it was only natural.

“Can I help with anything?” Jake asked as he wandered into the kitchen, pausing in the doorway momentarily before joining them at the table.

“Finish up the drinks for me?”  Jake nodded and did as Moira asked.  “What are they up to?”

“Just talking.”

“Gossiping or putting the world right?”

“Our world maybe.  You know we’re going to restructure…”

Xander could hear the faint sound of muffled voices, but he’d been lulled into a condition of unparalleled well-being, his mind switching off as he experienced a healing warmth filling and nourishing his body and soul.  This was belonging, he knew.  There was that word, that feeling again, and it was time he stopped questioning it.  Stopped being in awe of the concept. 

“Alex?”

“Mmm?”

“Coming back to the living room?”

Xander forced his eyes open and took a deep breath in an attempt to clear his head as Moira backed off with one last affectionate stroke over his hair.  She took the tray from Jake and left the kitchen.

“Umm…Spike?” Xander asked dopily.

“Upstairs, asleep.”

“Oh, yeah.  Right.”

The scent of coffee being waved beneath his nose brought him round and he looked up at Jake’s grinning face.

“Are you with us?”

“Yeah.”  Xander accepted the coffee and sipped.  “Waking up now.”

“Hey, look, you want us to get out of here?”

“No.  No, I don’t want you to go, and you get to suffer for me being selfish.”

“Suffer?”

“Fucking nightmares,” Xander muttered under his breath as the memory rushed back in.  “Welcome to our life.”

“He’ll get better.”  Xander threw a sceptical look in Jake’s direction, only to be met with an expression of utter conviction.  “He will get better.”

“How do you know?”

“I don’t.  But I can be pretty damn convincing when it comes to talking out of my ass.  I learnt from the best.”

Xander chuckled.

“Don’t let Pat hear you say that.”

“Who’s talking about Pat?” Jake innocently enquired before fleeing to the living room as the implication sank in.

Shaking his head, laughing softly to himself, Xander followed.

…

A few hours later Xander hugged and waved his friends goodbye, turned on the alarm, checked the locks on the doors and windows, switched off the downstairs lights.  He smiled to himself as he climbed the stairs, having already decided exactly how he was going to wake Spike on this particular occasion.

By the time he entered the bedroom his heart was racing and he was hard enough to be uncomfortable clothed.  That was quickly remedied and seconds later a naked Xander was throwing the bedclothes off his vampire and crawling up the artificially warmed body, kissing as he went and pausing to find out whether his fears from the morning were actual or imagined.  It took a few minutes longer than usual but Spike soon had an erection to match his own, and Xander delighted in licking and sucking the rigid flesh, enjoying the unlikely notion of Spike being trapped within the hex but feeling every scrap of attention and unable to manipulate Xander to get exactly what he wanted.  By now he’d usually be fucking Xander’s mouth, hands in his hair as he jerked into the irresistible wet heat.

A hell of a rush, complete power.  But now Xander had it he was thinking and feeling and understanding, and what he came to understand was that complete power wasn’t all it was cracked up to be unless Spike knew that Xander had complete power.  Xander lifted his head and studied Spike’s peaceful features.  He wanted them contorting with passion, eyes gleaming with absolute lust as Spike studied the owner of the adoring mouth whose actions demanded that he relinquish control, cease to resist, and come so hard he felt he was turning inside-out.

A slurping withdrawal and Xander carried on up the bed, grabbing a pillow and the tube of lubricant beneath it, back to Spike’s hips, and…  The temptation was almost overwhelming.  A few minutes to prepare himself and Xander could slide onto that wonderful solid flesh, have Spike inside him at last.  He straddled Spike’s thighs and leant forward, sliding their cocks together, groaning at the sight, at the way the first drops of pre-come drizzled from his swollen glans onto Spike’s.  His hand reached back as his body moved forward, and he grasped Spike’s cock, trembling as he rubbed it over the cheeks of his ass, between, knowing he could, knowing he could.  Knowing.  He.  Could.

Knowing he wouldn’t.

Truth was he wouldn’t betray his lover in such a way.  Truth was he didn’t have the courage to go ahead without Spike.  For a few seconds he felt a little awed by his trust in the vampire, his dependence on him.

“I love you so damn much,” Xander told the still figure.  “So damn much.”  And he went back to Plan A, easing the pillow beneath Spike’s hips, bending his legs and letting his knees fall open.  Xander knelt between the perfectly muscled thighs and experienced a sudden blast of the complete power vibe at the erotic sight before him.  “Oh, fuck,” he murmured to himself, needing to grab his cock and roughly jerk on it for just a few seconds, but just a few because he knew it would be far too easy to come all over…

Xander whipped his hand away, stared at the ceiling, took a few deep breaths while thinking of…oh, just about anything in the entire universe other than Spike.  He sang to himself, three songs, all the way through, rolling the tube of lubricant in his hands to keep it warm before he finally took another deep breath and squirted some of the gel onto his hand, carefully working his fingers into the tight body, taking as much care with unconscious Spike as he would with conscious.  Then Xander spread a good-sized glob over his own cock and had to stop again, staring at the light fittings above his head and singing a James Taylor selection and so hoping that Spike wasn’t tuning in.

Thinking calm thoughts, literally…  Calm, calm, calm, calm, calm.  …Xander positioned himself and sank into the cooler body with a moan of absolute delight as his cock was gripped.  Complete power: not as mind-blowing as his gorgeous vampire.  He wanted Spike here, and now; laying fully over Spike and keeping perfectly still, Xander whispered the words to break the hex.  Within seconds, Spike’s arms were moving around him, hands sleepily caressing.

“Hey, sweetheart, look at me,” Xander requested, needing to ensure Spike knew this was him and only him.  Eyelids fluttered open and hazy blue eyes slowly focused, gentle smile forming on that luscious mouth.  “Know it’s Xander?”

“Darling Xander,” was the unguarded response as Spike slid his hands into Xander’s hair to bring him down for a kiss.

As their lips met, Xander drew back and thrust.  Spike arched uncontrollably beneath him, so violently he almost had Xander flying off the bed, but Xander had expected the reaction and was ready for it.  One arm under Spike’s shoulders, the free hand closing around the vampire’s sopping cock, he thrust again, invoking one of those indescribably sexual but impossible to describe sounds that Spike managed to produce, sending his human racing towards climax.  But it was the slightest flash of game face that toppled Xander, and he pounded his orgasm into Spike, further aroused by the flood of cold that washed over his stomach and chest, inspired to fuck with added vigour for the thirty seconds before he completely collapsed.

Xander made to roll off but Spike held him firm, winding every limb around a piece of Xander and trying desperately not to purr.

“Wow.  Wow.  Wow,” Xander gasped into Spike’s shoulder.

“Complete power?”

“Not like I thought.  Not as good as you being here.  You being here…  Fucking wow.”  Spike chuckled.  “You got hard.”

“I thought I would.  I get you hard when you’re asleep, and the hex is just another form of sleep.”  Another chuckle.  “Nice wake-up call, love.”

Xander almost mentioned the game face but decided against it, not questioning his instincts on this one.  He finally removed himself from Spike, wiping them down with the edge of the sheet before falling onto his back with a satisfied sigh.

“Sleeping or fucking?” Spike asked, answered by a knowing smile.  “Want some blood?”

“Don’t think I need it.”

Spike draped himself across Xander, letting his hand wander, finding Xander still hard and dragging his fingertips over the gel-tacky flesh.  As Spike’s hand wandered, so did Xander’s mind.

“Going to tell me what was wrong today?  Yesterday.  Was it that gift from Jake, did something happen when we were fetching the tree, was it so many people in the house?”

Spike considered his response.  Did he tell Xander about the pen’s origins?  Did he tell Xander about the effect of Beth’s touch?  Did he tell him about the unnatural energy that poured off of Patrick in thick, alluring waves?  Did he say anything that would disturb Xander’s happiness?

“I was just a bit overwhelmed.”  Well, that was true.  “You and them.  I don’t deserve it, Xander, any of it.”  And maybe that was true too.

Better, Xander being distracted into kissing and cuddling and reassuring, and the questions were forgotten as Spike whispered crude words of love and put them into cruder practise.

Repossession 43       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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