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Part 43 |
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December the twenty-seventh, eight
in the evening, Xander parked in his customary space on the drive at Patrick
and Beth’s house and he and Spike took a few minutes to compose themselves
before leaving the Merc. “You sure you want to do this?” “I’m sure, Xander. We’ve talked about it and…” “You can’t blame me for being
protective.” “I don’t. I don’t blame you, but…” “I’m backing off. This is supportive Xander. Supportive at a distance. Name your terms, Spike, you get what you
want.” “I’ll be glad to get in there,”
Spike snapped. “I might get to finish a
sentence.” “Well, come on then,” Xander replied
as tersely. The tetchy atmosphere
between them only lasted until they got to the front door. Spike slipped his hand into Xander’s and
received a reassuring squeeze. “It’s
okay. I’m here for you.” They exchanged a smile and entered. Patrick greeted them in the
hallway, and Spike was immediately taken with the traditional Scottish apparel he’d chosen to wear; they were quickly divested of their coats and ushered to a
table beside the Christmas tree that amply filled one corner. “You know the drill, Alex.” On the table were cards and pens,
and Xander automatically collected one of each as Spike watched Patrick walk
away, kilt gently swinging. “We write cards, hang them on the
tree, Beth and Pat get a souvenir of everyone who visited.” Spike wandered over to read some of the cards
already adorning the branches. “Want me
to write something for us both?” Xander could see the cogs turning
in Spike’s head and knew the answer before he spoke. “No. I’ll do my own.” “Okay.” Xander turned back to his card and
thought. ‘Thank you for letting me
belong,’ he eventually wrote, almost signing it Alex, almost signing it Xander,
finally signing it Alexander because it brought the two halves of his life
together. He waited curiously as Spike
wrote his card. “Can I?” Spike handed it over and Xander glanced over
the contents before giving Spike a questioning look. “It’s a Druidic blessing for
unity. Beth’ll get it.” “Translate it for me.” “We swear by peace and love to
stand, “That’s perfect,” Xander said
under his breath, perceptibly touched by the sentiment. Spike smiled and took both cards,
hanging them side by side on the tree.
He glanced around, saw they were unobserved, and pulled Xander to him,
kissing him hard. “You’re so soft, Xander. I can’t believe you want a monster by your
side.” Spike continued quickly as Xander
drew breath to protest. “But I’m bloody
glad you do.” More kisses. “Xander…” “Yeah?” “I want you to get a kilt.” Xander chuckled. “You serious?” “I’m serious.” Kisses.
“You know what you’re meant to wear under them, don’t you?” “Umm…” “Nothing.” “Nothing?” “Nothing.” “Sounds…cold.” “Sounds fucking sexy. I’d like that kind of access to you.” Xander pushed away the erotic
picture that was forming in his mind. “I’ll ask Pat where he had his
made. Or…maybe I won’t. God knows what he’d think.” “You won’t care when I’m under it
and…” Another kiss, this time with the
express purpose of shutting Spike up, followed shortly by Xander insisting they
join family and friends before his only option was turning around and heading
home to fuck the vampire into next year. Keeping Spike close while trying
not to be smothering, Xander mingled easily, aware that the people here were
those that had continued to treat him with their customary friendship and
respect after he’d come out. Patrick had
taken a lot of care, rejecting the usual open house policy in favour of invited
guests; after the humiliation of the company party Xander was more grateful
than he could say, but he knew he’d try to find the words before the evening
was over. Glancing around, there were a
few people that Xander didn’t personally know, but he was sure Patrick wouldn’t
take any chances. He introduced Spike to
several colleagues and they’d been interested, naturally, but never too much,
never too intrusively. Determined to give
Spike a little of his own, unreflected kudos, Xander repeatedly pointed out the
portraits that already hung in pride of place on the chimney breast; a few
dropped hints and his colleagues were left believing that Alex’s other half was
a reclusive artist, and that worked perfectly well. Apparently Cora, who greeted Spike like a long
lost friend, had suspected something like this all along, being as Spike was so
‘perfectly bohemian’. When Beth came and
took the vampire away from him, Xander knew the way had been left clear for him
to meet the Danish architect designing the Spike knew he was being taken
turns at. Beth passed him to Jake, who
kept him for a good while before handing him over to Rafe and Moira and their
circle. Patrick came and went,
repeatedly checking to see if he was happy, and the vampire had to keep biting
back the desire to laugh at their kindness.
Not laugh maliciously, but just at the novelty of such care from people
he should mean nothing to. Time and
again he saw people’s attention sharpen as he was introduced as Alex’s partner,
and it confirmed what he’d read on the trash site about just how fascinating
they found his enigmatic lover and his fiercely guarded private life. Spike couldn’t help feeling smug at how
special it seemed to make him and he fought against the mischievous urge to
exploit it, suspecting Xander wouldn’t want him to be too hands-on in front of
these people. Hands-off had been
difficult since the moment Xander was dressed and ready to leave. He was wearing the turquoise sleeveless shirt
and the tight jeans at Spike’s request: so simple but he looked stunning. His bare arms were beautifully muscled, the
grey boots made his legs go on forever, and those jeans emphasised the most
perfect ass. Spike’s gold hoop in his
earlobe glittered as it caught the light.
Enjoying the flutter of anticipation in his stomach Spike took another
look at Xander. Later… A raucous noise from the hallway
broke him out of his reverie, and his first instinct was to make a bolt for
Xander. To his complete shame he
realised the reaction was not about protecting but being protected; the
realisation, however, didn’t make him any less frightened. Then a miraculous thing happened. Before Spike could start to move, Rafe’s arm
was around his shoulders, pulling him closer to the large body that now
comforted rather than intimidated. Much
as Xander had described several nights previously, the gesture was automatic,
and Rafe made no acknowledgement of the reason for it, just carried on chatting
away to the small group of people they were with. Equally as casually, Moira placed herself
between Spike and the commotion. The
noise proved itself to be the entrance of two young couples with party favours
and poppers, and Spike smiled ruefully to himself at the reason for William the
Bloody’s alarm: once upon a time they’d have been a snack, now they made him
want to run and hide behind his human.
His human who, now he looked, was watching him with undisguised concern. ‘Okay?’ Xander mouthed at him. ‘Okay,’ Spike mouthed back. After a heated look that scorched Spike from
head to toe, Xander returned his attention to the architect. Appreciating that Rafe’s arm
wasn’t going anywhere soon, Spike leant into the warmth and tried to pay
attention to what was being said, but the same distracting thought kept popping
into his head: someone else cared enough to shelter him from imagined
harm. It didn’t matter if it was only
because he was an extension of Xander and Xander was the person who was loved,
Spike was the recipient of a consideration he had rarely known in life and had
absolutely no right to expect now.
Earlier it had made him want to laugh; now he was simply awed. Christien Haakon followed Xander’s
gaze to the striking young man across the room, and when Xander turned back to
him he felt compelled to ask: “Who is that with Rafe?” The question caught Xander by
surprise and, due to recent experience, his first reaction was to be economical
with the truth. The second reaction, and
more potent by far, was one of immense pride and a desire to be associated with
his beautiful partner. A wide smile lit
Xander’s face and suddenly he couldn’t wait to say it. “That’s Spike. He’s my boyfriend.” … Spike eventually managed to slip
away unnoticed, no doubt each of his new friends… Friends.
Bloody hell, I have friends.
…thought another of them had him in protective custody, but he’d been
quite determined to make a break for it and when Spike was determined he
usually achieved what he wanted. As soon
as he was sure no-one was observing him he shot up the stairs; he would have
preferred to start his snooping on the ground floor but there was more chance
of being caught down there. All he
wanted was a clue to these people, their background, why the hell they roused
this strong affection and trust without doing a thing. Apparently.
Without apparently doing a thing.
Because the thing they were apparently not doing was tied in with their
guardianship of Xander and, yes, he chose that word very deliberately, and it
was also tied in with Jake returning an item that William had always regretted
losing. Beth had touched Spike and the
chip had reacted. Apart from the whole
potential-of-searing-pain aspect, he’d almost wished she’d left her hand where
it was so he could’ve discovered what would happen next. Trying doors until he found the
master bedroom, Spike flicked on the lights and wandered in. Amazingly, it looked just like…the master
bedroom. It didn’t take much of a
poke-around to establish that there was nothing more to the room than met the
eye, nothing about the contents that said anything other than Mr and Mrs
Average, and Spike sat on the edge of the bed in thought, trying to extend the
particular senses that would help him with this little conundrum but finding,
once again, that they were still gallingly dull. A low growl emerged as, ignoring the twinges
from the chip, he considered for the several hundredth time what he would like
to do with Riley Finn and his compatriots had they still been infesting this plain
of existence. Still, always a chance
I’ll catch ‘em up later. The idea of
tormenting his tormentors in downtown hell (because the callous gits were
surely bivouacking in the satanic slums by now) made Spike feel all warm and
fuzzy and pleasantly homicidal inside; the vampire’s growl petered out to
nothing and he refocused on what he was supposed to be doing. Up for another prowl, Spike
thoroughly checked out every single room on the floor. Nothing.
He stopped at the top of the stairs, rested on the banister and listened
to the sounds of merriment coming from below: highland dancing by the sound of
it. He grinned to himself, knowing
Xander would be in his element, thinking maybe now was time to rejoin the party
and let this growing obsession go. Six
steps down and he turned back.
Attic. Why hadn’t he seen attic
access? Another glance around and… One entire wall was wood panelled and this
seemed the obvious place to conceal the entrance; remembering the wall in
Xander’s office that opened with a touch, Spike methodically pressed each panel
until he felt a click beneath his hand and a section was released. One step into the stairwell, one step out
again. Fucking “Well, bugger me,” he murmured,
swinging the door back and entering, all caution forgotten. … A touch brought Spike back to the
here and now, reality kicking in as the eerie vacuum he had found himself in
dissipated. A few deliberate blinks, a
deep breath; he was in the living room, having been… Nope, that particular memory was… Spike shuddered, tried to get a grip. Beth’s touch, and he noticed the pointed look
she exchanged with Patrick as she took charge of Spike. So, I went somewhere, or was somewhere
with Patrick and… “Are you all right, Spike?” Her words grounded him; the music
and laughter struck him in a rush as powerful as a physical blow, but Beth’s
hand in his kept him from turning and fleeing. “Yeah, I’m fine. A bit…”
What? A bit what? Come on, smart-arse, explain that. “Come and watch the dancing.” The distraction was all Spike
needed; his mind lost its tentative grip on the sense of wrongness and it was
instantly forgotten. Most of the guests were involved
in a highland dance, circles of people parading and twisting and interweaving
and swinging partners in a confusing pattern that most of them seemed to have
only half a clue about, hence the extent of the hilarity. Spike focused on Xander’s voice and picked it
out easily; trying to see him in the melee was a little more difficult, but
another wail of pipes, promenade of dancers, and there he was, fooling around
with Jake and making concentration impossible for their partners. Spike watched the closeness of the
two men, noticing for the first time just how attractive Jake was in an
appealing-to-anyone-except-hopefully-Xander way. Ah.
Jealousy. Xander was right: not
nice. “They’re very close,” he said to
Beth, knowing she was watching him watching them. “Yes, they are.” He’s promised me there was
no-one during those five years, no-one at all, so I’m not going to ask, I’m
not, I won’t. “They’ve never been…closer. Have they?”
Spike tried to make the question casual but knew he sounded vulnerable
to the point of desperation. Still, this
was Beth. At least he hadn’t made the
mistake of asking Xander. “They’ve never been lovers, if
that’s what you’re asking.” “You ever worry about Patrick
straying? Bit of a looker, your old man,
he must’ve had plenty of people making passes at him.” “No, I don’t worry at all.” “Not that it’s any of my
business.” “And you needn’t worry about Alex
either. He adores you.” “I hope so.” Beth smiled and patted his hand. “Want to come and dance?” Spike took another look at the
intricate steps and shrugged. “What the hell. Never been scared to make a fool of myself.” Between dances Xander sought Spike
out, drunk on happiness and secure enough in this company to slide his arms
around the vampire’s waist without a second thought. “Hey, gorgeous, where d’ya go?” Spike thought. And thought.
And thought. “I have absolutely no idea.” Before Xander could question that
further Cora was at their side, beaming. “Beth tells me you can waltz,
Spike.” “Umm…maybe,” Spike hedged, looking
for Beth over Cora’s shoulder and giving the smirking woman a look that should
have frozen her to the floor but simply instigated a bout of ill-disguised
giggles. “Will you do me the honour of
being my partner for the next dance?” Deep breath; Spike stepped back
from Xander and offered his arm to Cora. “You’re on, missus. Don’t blame me if I stamp all over you, it’s
been a while.” He glanced at Xander, one
of those in-my-eyes-you-are-naked looks he did so well. “Later, baby.” … As Xander looked around for his
next victim – okay, he couldn’t waltz but he was more than happy to drag
someone down to his level – Patrick joined him, throwing an arm around his neck
and bringing him close enough to plaster a whiskey-scented kiss on his cheek. “Good night,” he announced. “Good night,” Xander agreed with a
nod. “Spike seems fine. It was a shock, that…episode.” “Yeah, I’m really sorry any of you
had to see that. But he was fine
after…” Five hours of intensive
fucking. “…getting some sleep.” “Don’t be sorry. We’re all in this together.” Xander felt it, the in-this-togetherness, and
hoped Spike was feeling it too rather than convincing himself he didn’t deserve
any scrap of affection that came his way.
Patrick followed his gaze to where Spike and Cora were dancing. “Cora’s very taken with him. Have to watch yourself there,” he grinned. “No sullying the mother-figure,”
Xander warned. “And instead of casting
nasturtiums shouldn’t man in skirt be rescuing wife in peril?” “What? Where?” “Long Paul from accounting
stalking wife in peril at Patrick peered into the murkier
recesses of the large room. “Every year,” he muttered before
prowling off in Beth’s direction and sweeping her from under the nose of her
gangly admirer, pinning her against the wall and giving her, as Spike would
say, a good and proper snogging. Xander watched Beth grab her
husband’s ass through the kilt and started to think Spike was right. Back to gazing at the vampire and his mind
wandered to Spike in a kilt and nothing underneath and the back of the Merc
and…these jeans had to have shrunk in the wash. … “That was great, seeing you dance
like that.” “It was a waltz, Xander, hardly
complicated.” “But you looked really good. You’re graceful and you’re beautiful and…” “Watch the road, pet.” “…and I’m so damn proud of you.” “If you’re so eager to cop an
eyeful I suggest you pull over before you drive into a ditch and kill
yourself. You dead would put a slight
dampener on the evening, I don’t mind admitting. Xander, pull…” “No, I’m concentrating now, this
is me concentrating.” “God knows what you’d’ve been like
if you’d been drinking.” “I’m just happy.” “You’re high as a kite, pet.” “Happy.” “Maybe you were spiked.” “Oh, fuck, I’d love to be spiked,”
Xander grinned. Spike turned a
narrow-eyed look on Xander which the human could pretend not to see because he
was concentrating so assiduously on the road.
“You seemed happy tonight, you seemed okay.” “I was okay.” Spike remembered how he’d felt during the
evening, the pleasure he’d felt at being accepted. He cleared his throat, spoke softly. “It meant a lot, Xander. You acknowledging me so openly.” “I wasn’t always as cool about it
as I seemed,” Xander confessed. “It was
always in the back of my mind that I might say the wrong thing to the wrong
person, put us in a bad situation. Pat
was careful over who was there, but still.” “You didn’t have to be quite so
open. I’d’ve understood.” “It would have been pretty
offensive to have you with me and pretend we’re just friends. No way I’m going there, Spike. I spent long enough back in Sunnydale
pretending I didn’t love you and didn’t want you, I’m not having it here.” “How long?” Spike asked with a
smile. “Long enough,” Xander repeated
before sighing deeply. “I guess we’ll be
going to “You don’t sound happy about it.” “I want to see Spike used the opportunity to
raise something that had been bugging him. “Who was that bloke you were
talking to for hours?” “It wasn’t hours.” “Who was he?” “He’s an architect we’ll be
working with in the new year. He was a
maybe but I talked him into being a definitely.
I’m a star. Pat loves me. We’re gonna be seriously rich and I’m spending
every last cent on you; what do you want?” “I want you to make sure he keeps
his mind on his blueprints.” “There you go again,” Xander
laughed. “I promise you, Spike, you’re
the only one who finds me irresistible.” “Pull over.” “I’m good, I’m watching the road,”
Xander protested. “Pull over.” “Why?” “Because I find you irresistible,”
Spike explained patiently as a cool hand slid over a hot thigh. Xander pulled over. … A little after four in the
morning. Xander sat at his piano,
conscientiously practising his scales and working his way through a
six-pack. Spike was in bed, hexed at his
own request, still wary after the nightmare on Christmas evening. Yes, Xander sighed, something was bothering
his vampire, but he didn’t expect to be told about it until Spike was good and
ready. Another sigh. God almighty, I hate that hex. No amount of bj’s in the back of the Merc can
take the place of a real live…dead…undead…unalive but animated… Where was I going with this? Oh, yeah, right. I want a conscious vampire in my bed, not a
spellbound corpse. Uh-oh, wiggins alert,
don’t think of him like that.
Alcohol-initiated containment breach, eject the… Xander laid his hands on the piano keys, still in the growing silence. He wants to turn me. He wants to kill me, give me over to some demon, and try to patch up the massive flaws in this plan with a little mojo. How can he love me, this me, as much as he says but be prepared to give me over to a demon? No way. Nuh-uh, no living dead for the Xan-man. Eternity is too scary, too… Eternity. With Spike. I could keep him safe forever. But I could never make him warm again. The pleasant state of semi-intoxication evaporated as Xander accepted that he was facing a decision of unparalleled enormity and didn’t have the first clue about where to begin the ascent.
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