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“Do you remember him being that loud?” “I don’t remember much at all,” Buffy said quietly, recalling and idly repeating Spike’s words. “It happened. Just wasn’t real.” She shook her head, trying to shake off the fug. “I wish it had been Xander, I’d like to hear Xander.” “Get over it, Dawn!” Dawn and Buffy both looked at “But the, ‘Xander, fucking hell,
Xander,’ was for our benefit. It would
be impolite to ignore it,” Dawn smiled sweetly.
“I’m just saying a little, ‘Spike, Spike, give it to me, baby,’ wouldn’t
have gone amiss.” “No!” Together from the older women. “Don’t want breakfast to get cold.” Dawn tapped on the bedroom door. Waited. No signs of life. Or unlife. She cracked the door open, ready with a few defensively cheeky comments if necessary, but the men were still fast asleep. She took a couple of sneaking steps into the room, drew breath to make her announcement, said…nothing. Just looked at the peaceful scene. Xander was on his back, Spike virtually at a right angle to him, head on Xander’s rib cage, arm stretched across Xander’s body and hanging over the edge of the bed. One of Xander’s hands rested on the back of Spike’s neck. Protective and loving, Dawn acknowledged, and it touched her: the thought of Spike needing protection and Xander, even in his present state, symbolically supplying it. With an unpleasant surge of feeling like a crude voyeur at her friends’ expense, Dawn began to back out, but a low, snickering growl came from Spike’s direction and wide golden eyes turned to fix on her. “Breakfast?” she said, wondering briefly about the state of the chip in Spike’s head and hoping that she wasn’t offering her own blood supply. Spike lifted his head, blinking back to blue. “Careless, Dawn. Wounded mate an’ all.” With the use of her actual name, Dawn knew she was in trouble. “Shall I tell Xander stirred beneath Spike, releasing a pained groan. At a gesture Dawn left fast; Spike moved off of Xander and looked him over with concerned eyes. “You okay?” “Jesus, what was I thinking last night?” “Hurt?” “Hurt,” Xander confirmed, wincing as he tried to turn toward Spike. “Stay put.” An insistent hand eased Xander flat. “I’ll get you some drugs.” A brief nod from Xander, and Spike saw the sweat break out on his partner’s face. Bad. “I told you to let me do all the work, didn’t I?” Spike chided as he sprung pills out of their foil containers. “But no, not big, tough, conveniently-having-forgotten-ever-spending-a-day-at-death’s-door Xander Harris. Here.” Xander awkwardly took the pills and water and gulped them down. “Stupid bugger. What are you?” “Stupid bugger.” Spike took the glass away and, with great care not to jar Xander, crawled back to his side, laying a cool hand over the hot flesh of his stomach. “Can you manage some food?” “Not yet. When the pills kick in.” “Blood?” “Really can’t afford to get horny right now.” Spike leant forward and nuzzled his chest, breathing in hard, scenting him. He could smell Xander’s pain. A few light kisses on skin that still tasted of sex. Xander moaned, only possibly from discomfort. “Poor darling,” Spike whispered. “You said it. You finally said it,” Xander smiled against the backdrop of aches. The vampire tensed. “What?” “You know.” “Poor Xander, I said,” he insisted before returning to his nuzzling. “Poor love. My honey.” “I am. I am your honey. I’m your…darling.” Caught, and he knew it. Spike looked away, embarrassed. “It’s a bit…Williamy. Isn’t it?” “So? It’s a lot Spikey. And I love it.” “You do?” as Spike turned back, pleasantly surprised. “Why shouldn’t I? And you put up with sweetheart.” One quick move and Spike was at Xander’s neck, burying his face in the flesh and sucking. “Too good, too good,” Xander protested. The mouth reluctantly released him. “Love you, Xander,” was murmured against his ear. “You're so precious to me.” “I know that. A goddamn miracle but I know it.” Ten minutes of exemplary behaviour before Spike’s hand crept over Xander, chest, belly, until his fingers were playing with the dark curls at the base of Xander’s stirring cock. “Pills kicking in?” “Getting there.” “Think if I’m careful with you…?” “Even if it kills me, I’m gonna say yes, you know that.” “I will be careful,” Spike promised as he dragged his fingernails up Xander’s shaft. “Very careful.” “This is the way I want to go. When you finally want rid of me, promise me you’ll fuck me to death.” “I promise,” Spike assured with profound sincerity. Spike’s mouth was a breath away from the succulent crown of Xander’s cock when the doorbell chimed; they moaned in unison. “Who are we expecting today then? And did they care this much before your potential snuffing?” Xander chuckled, then fell quiet as he tried to hear who had called. Spike was listening equally hard but with better results. He was up and dressing in seconds. “Cawley,” he said sharply. “You think… You think this means…” “I’ll speak to him.” “I want to come down.” “You’re not—” Spike snatched back the overreaction. “Start dressing. See what you can manage but be careful. I’ll be back to help.” Twenty minutes later Xander was being settled in the living room, the detective waiting patiently to speak to him. “Okay,” Xander finally announced, sounding like he’d run five miles in two minutes. Cawley cast an eye over the women on the sofa. “As I indicated to your partner, you may like to…” “It’s fine if they stay,” Xander assured. “You know something about the guys who hurt me?” “No, Mr Harris, I’m afraid this isn’t about the assault, but I thought I should come and talk to you as you already know me.” “Then…what?” Cawley took the closest armchair, sitting awkwardly on the edge of the cushion. “I’m afraid I have some bad news for you, Sir.” PatrickJakeRafeBethMoira rushed through Xander’s head, swiftly followed by less logical flashes of Giles and Cordelia; the little colour he had drained from his face and Spike was sitting on the arm of his chair and taking his hand. Xander nodded and Cawley continued. “There was a fire at your parent’s home during the early hours of this morning. Despite the best efforts of…” “They dead?” “Yes, Sir, they are.” There was a long moment’s silence
while Xander was left to take that information in. “Is there anything Xander needs to do right now?” “The usual arrangements, Ma’am. The police department in Sunnydale has been unable to locate any other relatives.” “He has to identify the…umm…” “Identification will be by means of dental records,” the detective explained, fully aware that he was informing Xander of the condition of his parents’ bodies. “It was a fire,” Xander
confirmed. Cawley nodded. “What kind of fire? Smoking in bed? Passing out drunk halfway through cremating a
“The house was apparently struck by lightning.” … Xander zoned out completely, remembered the previous night, telling Spike to open the shutters and drapes because he loved lightning storms, remembered the flashes illuminating Spike’s wonderful face as he threw his head back in ecstasy, remembered feeling the tingle of electricity as he filled his lover again and again. Mindlessly happy, deeply contented; fucking while his parents burned. … “…Xander… Come back to me, love,” Spike coaxed, and the human’s eyes flickered. “What?” “Okay now?” “Why?” “You left us for a bit.” Xander glanced around. “Where’s…can’t remember his name.” “Detective Cawley went a while
back,” Xander thought about that but, no, nothing connected. “I was thinking. I think. I think I was thinking. Remembering.” “Well, that’s only natural, after what’s happened, and I know you had problems with them but they were still your parents and you have to know how sorry we are…” “Thinking about us,” Xander told
Spike, effectively cutting off “Yeah?” Spike smiled. “What about us?” “I think you have to go. Go away.” Spike was too stunned to even manage a ‘what?’. “I don’t think I’m safe to be around. You have to go, you all have to go.” “This has nothing to do with you,”
“You then?” Xander asked, suddenly sharp. “Did you do this? Just…conjure a little something up? Because I get coincidence but this is too much.” “Xander, “Keep out of it,” Xander closed
Buffy down instantly, turned back to “But I wouldn’t do it.” “Listen to yourself, pet. This is Red here.” “How about you?” “Me?” “Connections.” “Oh, right, I had time to set this up between shags. In case you’ve forgotten, last night I was too busy making the earth move to worry about the heavens.” “Doesn’t mean a thing.” “Know what else? If I was going to kill those fuckers I’d wait until I could do it myself, fangs and claws. You want flamboyant homicide you don’t look to me.” Spike met Xander’s eyes, knew his human wasn’t convinced. “Xander… Why should I lie to you? You already told me I could kill them. Yeah? Coming back now? I can kill them providing I don’t feed?” Yes, Xander did remember. “If it’s not you, you’re not safe. You have to go.” “I’m not going anywhere without you.” “All go. Can someone…someone call Pat for me, tell him not to let anyone come round?” After a short pause Dawn picked up the phone and left the room. “You think this is down to you?” Buffy asked Xander to confirm. Nod. “But you’re the fortunate guy who comes under the category of normal. You don’t send lightning to burn down houses when you get pissed with people, we’d have noticed by now. God knows, I’d be dead.” “Me first,” Spike pointed out, and Buffy agreed with a nod. “And if it’s you, Xander, why now? You’re away from Sunnydale, you’ve got a great life – if we ignore the temporary painful-to-breathe factor – and you’re with…you’re with…” “The vampire of your dreams.” “Yes, the vampire of your dreams,” Buffy repeated Spike’s words with gusto. “Then…what?” “It’s just…” “Not bad luck, you’re not going to say bad luck. I’m not just talking about today, I mean… What happened to Spike, me getting beaten, all the shit in between, my parents… Bad luck?” “That isn’t…” “I want you all out of here now.” “You’re overreacting, Xander,” “I don’t want to take chances.” “I’m not leaving.” “Yes, you are, Buffy. You’re getting away from me and being safe, I
need you all to be safe, I couldn’t bear…
“Oh, well, bloody fine. Bloody fucking perfect. Just pack my bags and be off, shall I?” Spike snorted contemptuously. “Won’t rush it, though. Want to give you time to make an even bigger fool of yourself before I go. Very entertaining.” And he imperiously stalked out of the room, almost colliding with Dawn as she entered. “What’s happening?” “He’s chucking us all out. Totally lost the soddin’ plot.” Dawn sat close to Xander and studied him. “What? Dawn, what?” “Do you see me as some glowy energy thing?” “No, don’t be ridiculous.” “Not as insane as you sound then. There goes that excuse.” “I’m just…” Xander floundered. “I can see.” Pause. “You really want us to go?” Dawn asked, trying to be understanding but quite appalled by Xander’s state of mind. “Yeah, I want you to go.” “What about Spike? You can’t seriously want him to leave.” Xander rapidly shook his head. “I don’t want to be without him. But what if he gets hurt again?” “He’s being hurt again right now.” Dawn snapped, then forced herself to be calm. “You should go and talk to him. He’s upset.” Xander accepted, nodded, sat forward in his seat, coming to an abrupt halt and inhaling sharply. His hand went to his side and he took several more quick breaths, staring at the floor, trying to focus through the rapidly developing stabbing pain. “Come and lay down.” He stared at Buffy’s feet as they entered his field of vision. “Just here.” He couldn’t see the gesture, assumed she meant the couch. “No,” he gasped, “I’ll be fine, gimme a minute.” “You’re not fine. Will you let me help you?” A brisk shake of the head; Buffy turned to the door and called for Spike. The vampire heard the summons and got ready to put the mask back on. He’d come into the kitchen, collapsed against the counter as the bravado fell away, covering his face with shaking hands and giving in to the panic that told him he couldn’t exist without the security Xander gave him. It was one thing going to LA and spending time with Angel when he knew that he would be coming home again; if he had to leave and there was no guarantee of coming back… Another call, and it was purely William’s constant string of assurances that brought a halt to the disintegration and allowed him to respond. Now he returned to the living room, fighting a whole new panic as he saw Xander turning grey and clammy and looking ready to drop. No dashing to the rescue though; maybe he didn’t have his pride but he could make a show of it. He sauntered to Xander, kneeling a couple of feet away, getting himself on a level. Xander looked at him, expression softening in love and trust, but his eyes begged for help. One hand stretched out, came close; Spike swayed away from it. Another attempt to touch and Spike remained just out of reach; Xander understood that a point had to be made. “You finished tormenting me for now?” Spike enquired, sounding unbelievably casual. “I’m sorry.” “You really want me to leave – really – and I will. But I’m not something you just play around with, all right?” “I’m sorry.” Xander shifted to ease the jagged pain in his side; fresh burst and the room swam. Just as he began to experience the sickening sensation of falling, Spike’s arms were around him, and with relief he let himself collapse into the vampire’s embrace. “I’ve got you, love,” he murmured, inaudible to everyone but Xander. “Got you and you’re safe.” “I’m…I’ll be okay. I just…need to…” Spike took Xander’s weight as his human passed out in his arms, lifting him up and onto the sofa in one smooth movement, arranging him so that when he came to he wouldn’t be quite so uncomfortable. Spike glanced up as their friends re-entered the room with water, cloths and towels. “Let me look after him. You go and pack.” “You think we should go?” Buffy frowned. “He wants some space. This business with his folks is the last thing he needed. If he wants to go loopy with it he should be able to do that in private.” “In private with you.” “I don’t count. I’m just part of the furniture,” Spike explained matter-of-factly as he wiped a cold, wet cloth over Xander’s brow. “’Sides, he was right. Someone has to take care of the arrangements. Personally I’d just toss the fuckers into a dumpster but he’ll want an effort made. Spend what you like; I’ll give you an open cheque.” “Spike…” “He can’t go and sort it out; you lot’ll have to.” “I’m not happy with this,” “You don’t have to be. Not up to you, is it?” Before Spike quickly returned and employed his best fuck off look, succeeding in emptying the room of the living and conscious in seconds. Left alone, Spike shook Xander gently. “Wake up for me, love, just to prove you can. Then you get to sleep all you like. C’mon, Xan, for me.” Another minute and Xander stirred, barely opening his eyes and trying to get a bleary fix on Spike. “Hey, honey, you home?” “I’m home,” Xander replied. Just. Spike slowly dribbled half a glass of water into his mouth. “Better?” Nod. “Right. Humour me. Who are you?” “Alexander,” Xander whispered, “Consort of William the Bloody.” “That’ll do nicely.” “Why? Who’re you?” “S Harris is what it says on the card, and I believe everything I read.” He ran his fingers through the sweat-dampened hair. “You hurting?” “Yeah. I pushed myself, getting dressed. Knew I’d done something soon as I pulled this on.” He held up a couple of fingers full of sweater in illustration. “If I hadn’t hurried…” “Doesn’t matter now. Sleep, love. I won’t let anyone disturb you.” “They going?” “They’re going.” “Good. Good, they’ll be safe.” Xander’s anxiety soared. “And you? You staying?” “I’m staying.” “Thank you.” Xander released the tension with a shudder. “Thank you.” “Where else would I go, eh? You’ve got me for always.” Listening for interruptions, Spike remained kneeling by his partner until Xander was asleep again, then he gathered what he’d brought from upstairs: he measured out a dose of Xander’s least favourite but most potent drug cocktail, swabbed Xander’s inner arm, and carefully injected him. “Sorry. I know you hate it but needs must and all that.” … Half-an-hour had passed and there was an apologetic knock at the front door, which Spike hastily answered before Xander was woken. Jake. “Didn’t you get the message?” Spike demanded without preamble. “I got the message,” Jake replied grimly. “I want to know he’s okay.” “Yes, he’s okay, now go away.” “Spike…” “Not my choice, mate. But if I don’t play doorman he’ll throw me out too.” “Too?” “Girls are going home.” “He’s making them leave? But they’ve only been here a couple of weeks.” Spike shrugged. “Never said it made sense. Doesn’t. He thinks that somehow he’s to blame for what’s going on.” Jake waited. “Y’know, with me, then with him, now with his parents.” “What? Like he’s some…jinx?” Another shrug. Spike glanced behind as he heard Buffy and Dawn coming down the stairs. “Couldn’t do me a favour and take them to the airport? I’d like to know they got away safely. Curse of Xander and all that.” They shared a sad smile and Spike finally let Jake in so he could help take the bags out to the car. A while longer and Spike went up to find out where Willow had got to and found her in the studio, gazing at a picture of Xander on the easel. Without comment he tucked a cheque into her pocket. “You ready?” “I don’t want to go,” “I know. I don’t want you to go. Not like this.” “Can you talk to him for me? When he calms down? I don’t mind turning around and coming back the minute I get home, I don’t mind that.” “I’ll talk to him but I think he’s going to need a bit of barmy time.” “Barmy time.” “And I can’t push too hard. I can’t risk pissing him off and getting thrown out.” “I don’t expect you to. Just…talk. He’ll come round. You think he’ll come round?” “Oh, yeah. Eventually. But I don’t need to tell you how stubborn he is.” Spike mulled over something in his mind for a few minutes before clicking shut the door to give them a little privacy. “Willow… There isn’t anything in it, is there? What he was saying? I mean, there’s a run of bad luck, and then there’s this past year. I don’t blame him for feeling like he does, we’ve been done over once too often.” “I don’t see how…” She sighed deeply. “Let me think about it. And I’ll talk to Giles, see if he knows a way of finding out.” “You could…” “No, I couldn’t. Too personal, remember? I’ll talk to Giles.” Spike agreed with a nod even though he regretted losing the time it would take. “If there is anything…strange going on, at least you know you’re protected in the house.” Spike joined “He must have thought he was safe here. No funny business this far from the Hellmouth. I know you haven’t had much time, but did you get anything from Beth?” “Just that she’s nice and kind and thinks the world of you both. If you’re looking for something malevolent you’re looking in the wrong direction with Beth and Patrick.” “Not malevolent, I never said that.” “They’re normal people, good people. I think you should take that for granted and look elsewhere for whatever’s spooking you.” There was a distinct no-nonsense
edge to Spike and “We have to catch a flight,” she
reminded “Oi, Bit, don’t take it out on
anybody but Xander.” Dawn tutted and
disappeared. “You’d think we dragged her
up,” Spike grinned at “She’s disappointed.” “She’s always something, she’s as bad as her bloody sister. And there’s you, stuck in the middle and constantly counting to ten.” “I’m not. Much.” “See if it’s possible to have an evening service. Just in case, y’know?” “I would have done that anyway. Xander should be there, it would be closure.” Down the stairs. “This is terrible, Spike.” Spike nodded his agreement, whether she meant their leaving or Xander’s state of mind. Spike watched Jake’s car pull out
of the drive, gave a final wave from the shade of the porch. He took a long, deep breath, trying to catch
the scent of the sunshine, shutting the door and returning to the living
room, checking Xander was still asleep before going up to his studio and
distracting himself by working on the portrait of Xander that Over an hour later, Spike was aware of Xander’s heartbeat changing as he woke; he finished the section of painting he was working on and trotted off to find his lover. The living room was empty and Spike tried the kitchen, then the music room, the dining room, anxiety steadily growing. He stopped to listen. And he knew. “Fucking hell, no, Xander, you bloody idiot.” Semi-closing the shutters, Spike ran into the conservatory and stared out of the window. There was Xander, his weak, ill, unsteady Xander, wandering about the garden. Spike instinctively threw open the door, wanting to get to Xander before there was a chance of him collapsing, brutally reminded of his vampiric status as his skin smoked with the first touch of daylight. Ducking back into the safety of the shade, Spike hugged his sore arms to him and stared helplessly after his lover, poignantly reminded of exactly how inadequate he could be.
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