The storms continued for a full week, and as Xander watched he thought of his parents, of lightning, of death; he wanted to ask Spike about being dead but knew it was absolutely the wrong time.  Regarding his own near departure from this variety of existence, Xander had managed to pry a few more details from various sources and had discovered, with a degree of macabre fascination, that he’d almost been burned.  How’s that?  Like father, like son.  Always wanted something to share with the fantasy father.  Was thinking more along the lines of camping than cremation.  Despite the aches and pains he was back to not being able to take it seriously: the attack, the almost burning alive, the five weeks in a coma.  Five weeks?  If I was asleep for five weeks why the hell did I wake up so tired?  Denial.  So much easier than confrontation.  Xander mentally changed the subject time and again, occupying himself with the watching of storms.  Thinking of his parents.  Thinking of lightning.  Thinking of death.

It was quite a novel week: Xander and Spike were left entirely to themselves.  The family instinctively knew to keep away and contact was purely by phone, including the plethora of make-up calls Xander felt he owed his Sunnydale girls.  Without mentioning his conviction that he was in some way a harbinger of doom, Xander declined Willow’s offer to return, needing to know she was away from him, safe from him.  If only Xander could have dismissed the constant nagging doubts about Spike’s safety he’d have been happy.  Or at least happier.

It didn’t take Xander long to wear Spike down regarding the drugs: after two days of almost constant pestering the stronger concoction was set aside in favour of the newer, less debilitating prescription, and more frequent doses of Spike’s blood in an attempt to mend the damage to Xander’s side.  The new pain faded, and Xander pragmatically returned to coping with the more familiar aches.

One night, Spike dragged Xander from a vicious nightmare, fearing that his lover had finally remembered the attack.  But after a rigorous comforting session, the nightmare proved to be about a far greater fear.

“You were leaving me, you left me,” Xander explained hoarsely.  “You were going for good and there was nothing I could do to stop you.  I could feel myself dying.  Can’t survive without you.”

Spike made promise after promise, swearing he would never leave without an intention of returning, coddling his darling back into a restful sleep before sending up a silent prayer to any passing deity that he’d be strong enough never to let Xander down.

Two night’s later it was Spike’s turn to suffer, but wakefulness proved no escape from this nightmare as the PTSD emerged with excruciating ferocity, leaving Spike trapped within his memories and Xander in the terrible position of being too fragile to pursue him around the house.  Xander managed to get to the top of the stairs, sitting against the banister and panting with the exertion and hurt.  He listened tearfully as Spike went through hell alone downstairs, calling and calling, hoping that eventually Spike would register the sound of his voice, recognise Xander as his refuge, and be able to come to him.

Xander lost track of time, eventually changing tack and calling for William in a last attempt to get through to his partner before resorting to telephoning Patrick and Beth to come and help them.  Just as Xander was giving up on the idea of managing this for themselves Spike emerged from the living room and scuttled to the foot of the stairs, crawling up and throwing himself into Xander’s lap to be comforted as he sobbed and keened.  The physical pain was nothing compared to the emotional, and Xander pulled Spike into his arms, whispering and humming until the vampire calmed sufficiently to make conversation possible.  For ‘conversation’ read a string of babbled apologies that Xander could only stifle with a hand across icy lips.  When Spike nodded to indicate he’d finished with the tirade Xander let his hand slip across to stroke the nervously twitching cheek.

“I’m sorry, Xander, I don’t know why this is still happening.”

“What are you apologising for?”

“I don’t understand.  I don’t understand this and it’s…  I’m sorry, Xander.”

“You don’t apologise for this, okay?  You never apologise for this.”

Silent tears as Spike nodded and forced himself away from Xander so he could pick him up and return him to bed.  A dose of painkillers later, Xander was pulling Spike to him once more as they huddled together beneath the covers.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Xander gently enquired.  “You know what set it off this time?”

“I think…I think William tried to withdraw.  He can control the madness.  I can’t.”

“So…he came back when I called?”  Nod.  “That’s how you managed to get to me?”  Nod.  “But he’s back now?”  Nod.  “And you’ll be okay?”  Nod.  “He’s not going anywhere?”  Shake.  “That’s…good.  A relief.”  Hesitation.  Nod.  “Yeah, I know it’s not ideal, but…  I love you, sweetheart, don’t want to see you suffer.”

“I’m used to him being there.”

“You don’t think maybe that’s the problem?  You’re so used to him you panic when he tries to withdraw?”  Spike shrugged and snuggled closer, pressing his face into the warmth of Xander’s chest.  “Want to sleep?”  Nod.  “Want anything else first?”  Shake.  “’Kay.  Love you, Spike.”  Nod.

Xander smiled to himself and leant his cheek into Spike’s hair, staring past him to the covered window, imagining the sights that matched the sounds as the storms grumbled on.  Thinking of his parents.  Thinking of lightning.  Thinking of death.

…

The day of the funeral and, with more blood than he’d ever taken before, Xander was well enough to spend it as he’d spent the night of his parent’s death.  Blood and another of those perplexing visits from Patrick.  But whether or not Spike understood how Patrick made Xander feel so much better, Spike made sure he left them alone long enough for that little piece of magic to be worked, knowing he and his lover would reap the rewards for the remainder of the day, and hopefully the night.

Spike disconnected or switched off every phone in the house, refused to let either of them go near a computer.

The storms continued, grumbling and sending the occasional crack of lightning, but during the evening the sky cleared for a while and Spike suggested going for a drive.  Xander agreed enthusiastically and was bright and happy until they walked into the garage and he set eyes on the Merc.

“It was damaged.”

“Yes.”

Xander looked over the car and found nothing.

“Where?”

“Bonnet.  Hood,” he corrected, tutting at the Americanism.  “Hood.  That’s a bleedin’ battleship, not a car part.”

“Where?” Xander repeated, and Spike leant over the car and tapped the spot.

“What did they do?”

“Put a pickaxe through it.”

Sadness and anger battled for a place on Xander’s face, and he stroked the restored metal lovingly.

“Fixed, not replaced?”

“Fixed.”

Somehow both Spike and Patrick had known that that was what Xander would want.

“I’m glad I can’t remember.”

“Me too.”

“But you’ll get them, right?  One day you’ll find them?”

Spike didn’t answer; Xander didn’t notice.

Enjoying the novelty of being a passenger in the Jag, Xander relaxed, didn’t make a single comment about Spike’s ultra-cautious driving.  An hour of cruising and they wound up at back-seat copse, leaving the car and reclining on the hood, soaking up the warmth from the engine as they stared into the moody sky.

“It’s over,” Xander eventually said.  “They’re gone.”

“All over,” Spike agreed, taking Xander’s hand and kissing it.  “You haven’t mentioned it.  Them.  You okay?”

“Yes, I am.  I’ve thought but I haven’t grieved.  I’ve felt euphoric at times.  Empty.  Bitter.  Plain…weird.  But I haven’t grieved.  You were right: they don’t deserve it.”

“You can talk about it if you want to.  My lack of sympathy is for them, not you.”

“I know,” Xander smiled.  “I know that.  There’s nothing to talk about.”

“You’re not sorry you didn’t go to the funeral?”

“No.  I just spent the day fucking around with my boyfriend who happens to be gorgeous and intelligent and witty and loving.  So, no, I’m not sorry I didn’t go anywhere but down.”

Spike’s hand suddenly tightened on Xander’s and he leant up, morphing into game face to employ his enhanced vision as he stared into the darkness…  Fuck the dark, fuck the fucking dark.  Play the part.  Don’t let him down.  Fucking dark.  …outside the beams of the car’s headlights.

“What is it?” Xander asked as he sat up, careful not to relax his dependant, supportive, restraining grip on the vampire.  “Shall we go?”

Before Spike could answer, three figures appeared out of the gloom and lined up, checking them out.  This Spike could deal with, and the tension trickled away.

“Oh, look, love,” he chuckled.  “The natives are revolting.”

“They vampires?” Xander asked under his breath, being answered with a brief nod.  “Jesus, where do you go in this country to get away from friggin’ demons!  I know it’s an old joke, but it’s not me, is it?  Not the demon magnet?”

“This time it’s me.”

“You knew about them?”

“Yeah.”  Spike waited a few more minutes then sighed.  “Well?  You’re not going to introduce yourselves?”

The centre vampire took a few steps forward, adopted a swashbuckling stance that had Xander sniggering behind his free hand.

“Gorgon.”

“Gorgon?” Xander grinned. “What comic book did you get that out of?”  The vampire growled but Xander wasn’t in the mood to take it seriously.  “And what the fuck are you wearing?  Loon pants really back in or were you turned during the interval of Hair?”

Gorgon snarled and came closer; Spike raised a warning finger to him.

“Wouldn’t if I were you, mate.”

“You take its insolence?”

“Think you’ve upset him, pet.  Want to say sorry?”

“No.”

“As you like.”  Spike turned his best munificent look on Gorgon.  “Fuck off, eh?  You’re killing the mood.”

The second vampire came prowling, demon-featured and glowering, scenting Xander.

“It’s not claimed.  Fair game.”

“Didn’t catch the name,” Spike pointed out, still the picture of relaxation.

A snort from the vampire.

“How about Plug Ugly?” Xander suggested before leaning in to kiss Spike’s neck.  “You must be the only pretty vampire on the planet, sweetheart.”

“That’s not claimed, yet you stink of human,” Gorgon observed.  “You stink of…humanity.”

“Fair enough,” Spike accepted, enjoying the confusion in the glance the two vampires couldn’t resist exchanging.

“Hey, guys, I know it’s a bit of a cliché, but don’t you know who he is?”

“Have you no control over your human’s mouth?” Plug Ugly demanded.

“You wouldn’t ask that if you’d seen us a couple of hours ago.  But I guess you wouldn’t recognise that particular scent.  I probably wasn’t born the last time you got any.”  Seriously irritated by Xander’s flippancy, Gorgon tensed, preparing for an attack, stalking back and forth.  Spike was up and played at adjusting his collar, shooting his cuffs.  “You okay with this?” Xander asked under his breath.

“Too bloody right I am.  I’ll be done in three minutes.  Five if we indulge in banter.”  A reassuring touch to Xander’s knee before Spike refocused his attention.  “Now, Gorgon.  There are a few things you need to understand.”  Spike threw Xander a tender look.  “Respect for your betters.”  Gorgon snarled contemptuously, stopping and striking yet another pose.  Spike turned and strolled toward him, smirking at the vampire’s arrogant stance.  “Respect for your elders.”

In one rapid move, Spike was across the clearing and in front of Gorgon, hand zooming into his face, fingers punching through eyes and sockets, thumb breaking teeth as it forced its way into his mouth; within a split second Spike was holding the vampire’s head as if it were a bowling ball.  A reassuringly inhuman squeal emerged from the stuck vampire as Spike kicked his feet away, casually swatting the twitching chin and breaking the jaw so his thumb wouldn’t be bitten off.  As Gorgon flailed, Spike walked toward Plug Ugly, effortlessly dragging the floundering vampire with him; a hand grasped and Spike broke the offending arm with one quick stamp.

With an enraged snarl the second vampire loomed over Spike, unfortunately too busy posturing to notice the elegant hand that crashed through his breastbone and ripped out his heart in one polished move.  Plug Ugly figured it out just as the breeze began to scatter his dust.

Gorgon screamed as he recognised the particles landing on his skin.

“You are too fucking loud,” Spike pointed out as he cringed at the noise.  “I was going to use you as my envoy but, a) you are too fucking loud, and b) my Consort finds your dress sense aesthetically displeasing.”

Lowering the vampire to the floor, Spike held his torso there with a booted foot; as he straightened up Gorgon’s head ripped from its neck and more dust scattered.

Movement caught his eye and Spike turned toward the third vampire – a young fledging who was attempting to sneak away.

“Oi, you!”  The fledgling froze.  “What’s your name?”

“Umm…umm…Bradley.”

“C’mere, Bradley.”

Bradley approached nervously.

“Your…umm….  It…er…he, he seems very…pleasant,” Bradley said desperately, gesturing spastically in Xander’s direction.  Xander waved amicably back.  The vampire looked most surprised and Xander smiled benevolently.

“What have you learnt?” Spike asked in a low, intense voice.

“Master,” the fledge replied instantly, dropping to his knees before Spike.

“Nice.”  Spike trailed his fingers under the fledgling’s chin and lifted it.  “Do me a little favour?”  Frantic nod.  “Go back to your nest and tell them there’s a new Master in town who doesn’t take kindly to interference.  Give them the name.”  Another nod.  “Spike.”

“Spike,” Bradley repeated conscientiously.

“Better known as William the Bloody.”  Bradley fell away from Spike, scrabbling in the dirt and attempting to put some distance between them.  “Demon knows me?  I’m flattered.”  Spike strolled to Bradley, offering a hand and waiting as the fledgling found the courage to take it; Spike lifted him to his feet.  “Run along then, give ‘em the message.”

“Yes, Master.”

“And you might mention that my sire’s back on form and may be popping in for the odd visit.”

“S-s-sire?”

“Come on, boy, your demon knows its history.  Angelus.”

Bradley squeaked and took off at a run, bouncing off a tree – lucky not to accidentally stake himself on a low branch - and spinning before trying again, this time disappearing from sight.  Spike and Xander watched him go before Spike let out a delighted laugh.  Applause rang out in the clearing and the vampire offered a flourishing bow to his audience.

“That was both big and bad,” Xander grinned.

“You think?”

Spike’s return to Xander could have been described as a joyous frolic by anyone stupid enough to accuse a vampire of joyously frolicking.  He bounded over to his love and pressed him back onto the Jag, sliding him up the hood until they were fully laying on the car, kissing him hard and growling contentedly.

The grumbling sky lit their increasingly passionate embrace with intermittent flashes of lightning, and heavy rain began to sheet down, soaking the oblivious couple in minutes as their bodies entwined and they kissed and kissed and then kissed some more.  It wasn’t long before the sheer volume of water washed them off the car, and they fought to find their feet in the vampire-rich mud, laughing, hugging, as an almighty crack filled the air and a brilliant blue-white light momentarily illuminated the copse.

“Something’s happened,” Xander shouted at Spike above the roar of the wind and rain.  “Something’s changed.  Can’t you feel it?”  Spike shook his head, shedding streams of water from his hair.  “I can feel it.  At last.  They’re gone.  I’m free, at last I’m free.”

Behind them a fork of lightning struck one of the massive cedars, filling the air with the odour of charred wood.

“Was that you?” Spike asked, bouncing in his excitement.  “Can I give you a list of bastards I want fried?”

“Not me,” Xander assured, laughing again as he pulled the exuberant vampire to him for another kiss, peripherally aware of the smell changing as the weight of water doused the fire in the cedar’s branches.  With the final smoky hiss Xander shivered from scalp to toes.

“Home.  I have to get you dry,” Spike insisted, pushing Xander to the passenger door and forcing his partner into the car.  Within seconds he joined him, the floor and seats becoming sodden as the water poured from their saturated bodies in steady rivulets.  Spike revved the engine and turned the heater to full.  “All right, love?”

“Fine.”

“Soon be warm.”

“Soon be home.”  Xander reached over and caressed Spike’s face.  “Want you.”

“You can have me.  When you’re warm and dry and you’ve had your pills.”

“And blood?  Can I have blood?”

“Not tonight.  You’ll never sleep.”

“Maybe I don’t want to sleep.”

“Or maybe you’ll do what you’re told.”

With a last glance in the direction that Bradley had shot off in, Spike took the Jag out onto the road.  Xander had followed his gaze and knew what he was thinking about.

“How did you know about them?”

“Max told me there was a nest.”

“Did he say they’d be coming after you?”

“He said they were curious.  Naturally.  Won’t be so bloody nosy after tonight, mind.”

“They were…strange.  Why d’you think they were so…”

“So…?”

“Far up their own asses.”

Spike thought about it.

“At a guess I’d say there’s been no external challenge to the court or hierarchy for a long time.  Probably not a large nest so they wouldn’t want to start slaughtering each other.  Internal disagreements’d be sorted out by displays of clout rather than the use of it.”

“The posing was…surreal.  Did you get the impression they’d seen all the wrong vampire films?”  Spike’s laugh was enough of an answer.  “You think they were old?  They felt old.”

“Old.”

“But not as old as you?”  Shake.  “How can you tell?”

Shrug.

“Vamp thing, I s’pose.”

“You know what, Spike?  My problem is that I’m used to you, and you’re just so cool.”  Spike chuckled.  Xander’s voice softened.  “I’m very proud of you.”  Glance and a smile.  “Extremely impressive.  You were extremely impressive.”

“Not that you’re biased or anything.”

“No bias here, baby.”

Spike smiled again and took a further look at his companion, meeting eyes shining with a whole gamut of emotions.

“You weren’t worried.  Not worried, not scared.”

“No,” Xander said thoughtfully.  “Not for a moment.  They weren’t smart enough to hurt you, and you’d never have let them get anywhere near me.”

“True.”

“You made dusting them look so easy.”

“It was easy.”

“And funny, seeing you so laid back when they doing the macho-vampire thing.  I like you laid back.”

“Well, that type: I knew what I was dealing with.  They’re certainly nothing to get worked up over.”

“Pretty laid back, pretty vicious, pretty funny, pretty…”

Spike waited.

“Pretty…?”

“Yeah.  Pretty.”

“Rather be sexy.”

“You’re so damn sexy.”  The vampire looked satisfied with that.  “You know he was right and I’d forgotten.”

“What?”

“Master.  It showed.  That you’re a Master.”  Xander grinned, rubbed Spike’s thigh.  “You want your Consort to call you Master?  I wouldn’t mind.”

“Bit of a turn about.”

Xander took a moment to figure that out.

“Ah, don’t, I hated that.  It wasn’t about choice, was it?  Poor William.”

“Miss him?” Spike asked.

Xander turned in his seat and studied Spike for a few minutes, trying to gauge his mood.  Calm, contented, apparently un-jealous vampire.

“I do,” Xander took a chance.  “I do.  Just sometimes.  But he’s a part of you, and I do see him in you.”  Protracted silence.  “You mad at me?”

“No, course not, love.”

“You went quiet.”

“I was thinking.”

“About William?”

“What you said.  About choice.  Y’know, if I ever got a soul, I’d be so guilty about that poor sod I’d have to stake myself just to give him some peace.”

“But he loves being a part of you, he loves his life.”

“He must be happier now I’m – we’re – with you.”

“Does he know everything that happens?  Does he…feel…everything?”

“Don’t worry, he gets the pleasure.”

“I didn’t mean…  Oh, all right, I did mean.”

“If you want him to be more aware, call me William when we shag.”

“No.  That’s too risky.”

“I don’t think…”

“I won’t chance losing you for a second.  The way we are now is right and I don’t want to fool with it.  Just you and me, Spike.”

Spike nodded, not even attempting to keep the smugness from his face.

At the house and out of the car; the rain had stopped and Xander went back to staring at the sky, sauntering off into the gloom.

“Xander,” Spike called.

“Okay.”

“Come on, Xander.  Now.”  Xander strolled further afield; Spike took a deep breath and went in pursuit.  “Can you not wander off in the dark?”

“Storm’s over,” Xander murmured.  “Pity.”

Spike reflexively looked up: the clouds were dispersing fast.  Unnaturally fast.  But what do I know?

“Come in now.  Xander.”  Spike crossed to Xander and took a damp, chilly hand in his.  “Xander?”

“I was thinking.”

“I’ve warned you about that.”

Xander gave Spike one of his extremely rare blinding smiles and the vampire felt himself beginning to warm up despite the cold night air and being generally dead and non-heat producing.

“It’s been a great day.  A great evening.”

“Great and wet.  Come inside.  Let me help you out of those clothes,” Spike offered with a smirk.  “Purely for the benefit of your health.”

Xander chuckled happily and allowed himself to be coaxed toward the house, swinging their joined hands between them as they slowly walked.

“You remember that slogan you used to see on t-shirts and posters?  ‘Today is the first day of the rest of your life’?  I get that.  I feel that.”

“I preferred the vultures.”

“Vultures?”

“Vultures.”

“What was the slogan?”

“Patience, my arse, I’m going to kill something.”

Xander laughed and pinned the vampire to the front door, kissing him possessively, attempting to drop to his knees but being hauled back to his feet by insistent hands.

“Spike, sweetheart, Master…”

“None of that.  Well…not until we’re inside.  Conditions, remember?  Warm, dry, pills.”

“Spiiiiike…”

“Be the anti-vulture, pet.  Show a little patience.”

Spike managed to get the door open and the alarm off before Xander pounced.

“Patience, my arse,” he growled.  “I’m going to fuck something.”

Repossession 63       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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