As agreed before they left Xander’s office, Spike pulled over just outside the gates of Cedar House; the small group of vampires automatically herded toward the Jag and Xander was able to drive the Merc into their grounds with no interference, just a few hostile glares.  Also as agreed, Xander didn’t return to find out what was happening, but he couldn’t resist standing in the porch and keeping a keen eye out for his partner.  There were raised voices – not Spike’s, he noted – and a minor scuffle followed by a couple of showers of dust.  Not long after, the Jag cruised up the drive and parked.

“Okay?” Xander asked as Spike joined him.

“See what you mean about Death Wish Club.”

“And you granted their wishes, oh kindly, magical, fairy-type vampire.”

Spike chuckled.

“Only you…”  And Xander was hard up against the front door being smooched.  “…could get away with that.”

“Can I try it on Angel?”

“Only if you’re standing behind Buffy at the time.”

Xander laughed and squeezed around to unlock the door, giving Spike opportunity to fondle his buttocks and give Xander sudden hopes that were immediately pushed aside with mental reminders to let Spike set the pace.

Once inside Xander stood back to watch Spike take in his surroundings.  Darker colours in the hall: deep, rich red on the walls, dark oak woodwork and flooring, subdued, moody lighting; several of Spike’s drawings of their home, framed in walnut, were clustered on one wall.  Spike ran his hand over the new table that bore a huge vase-full of flowers from Cora’s garden.

“You like it?” Xander asked, too excited to be patient.  “I’m waiting on the drapes for this wall: they’ll go the whole width, floor to ceiling, cover the door and window.  They’re the same red as the walls but they’ve got this kinda silvery-gold thread going through them, and that isn’t as tacky as it sounds.”

Spike’s back was deliberately turned to Xander.

“I’m sorry.  For the damage.”

Yes, he was sorry, Xander could hear it.  Rushing to Spike he pulled him around and hugged him.

“Forget it.  I’ve had a great time doing this place up, the only thing I’m sorry about is that you didn’t want to be a part of it, but I know you’re not interested in that stuff so no problem, and if you ever do decide you want a say then we can change whatever you want ‘cause that’ll be fine.”

“Finished?”

“The decoration or the babble?”

“The decoration?” Spike smiled.

“Almost.  Have a look around while I…  No blood, you want me to give Max a call…”

“I saw him earlier, the blood’s in the boot of the Jag.”

“Trunk.”

“Boot.”

“Trunk.”

“I’ll fetch it, shall I?  Then we can settle down to an evening’s intensive contradiction.”

“No, we won’t.”

“We will.”

“We won’t.”

A long look before Spike rested his brow against Xander’s.

“I’ve missed you so much, love.”

“No argument here.”

…

While Spike explored the house, Xander brought the blood in from the car.  He stopped to look at the gates, at the half-dozen or so vampires staring back, hoping for a glimpse of their prospective master.  The behaviour was perplexing: nothing he remembered of the Sunnydale vamps had prepared Xander for this unwarranted devotion to Spike; he hadn’t even seen minions being this faithful to the demon that had made them.  It was tempting to go and talk with them, find out why this was happening, but he suspected that this reaction had been inevitable since the moment Spike dusted Gorgon and deprived this vampiric community of it’s master.

Xander found Spike in the kitchen, examining the latest ‘Spike’ mug – blue with silver lettering – and humming something indiscernible to himself.  After putting a bag of blood in the microwave Xander turned to him.

“Anything you want to change?”

“Expect not,” came the distracted answer.

“Spike?”

“Why d’you need my name on it?  As if I’m some pet.”

Xander was horrified.

“I don’t, it’s not…!  Fucking hell, Spike, it’s not meant like that, I just…”  Xander ran out of words, wracked his brain, took a breath.  “The first one…  When I got the first one I had your name put on it to prove to you it was yours, that you belonged, that you counted.”  He circled away from Spike’s scrutiny.  “Now…  It’s more for me, I guess.  It proves to me that you’re here, a part of this.  A part of me.”  Xander paused, fighting not to feel this so deeply, despairing over managing to get something wrong so soon.  “It’s only a stupid mug.  Throw it out.”

Spike was at his back, threading arms around his waist and rubbing a cold nose behind his ear.

“You proved it.  I belong, I count.  I’m a part of this and a part of you.”

Xander leant his head back against Spike’s.

“I didn’t think it would be offensive.  I…didn’t think.”

“It isn’t.  Now I understand.”

The microwave pinged cheerfully and Xander extracted himself from Spike’s hold; cutting the bag open he looked around, unsure of what receptacle to use.  The blue mug was placed in his hand and he studied it guiltily.

“I didn’t think,” Xander repeated.  “I never think.  I can be such a jerk.”

“No.”

“You say no, but I am, and before I know it I’m fucking this up and you’re leaving again.”

“Have you eaten?” Spike changed the subject deliberately and completely.  “Do you cook in here or is it too good for that?”

“It’s a kitchen,” Xander answered flatly.

“It’s a work of art.”

Xander gradually looked around, trying to see the room through fresh eyes, but he was drawn to the flaws that Spike missed.  Not too bad though.  With the lighting: he liked the lighting.

“I was out of practise,” he admitted.  “Luckily, the first pieces I made were the easiest to hide.  But I used to be a good carpenter.  Still can be, I guess.”

“Want me to whip you up something?  I like the idea of messing up perfection.”

“It’s not…  No, I don’t want you to do anything for me.”

“Nothing?” Spike enquired lightly, one eyebrow suggestively raised.

Spike took his blood and his mug, poured and drank.  Xander watched the lack of game face.

“Be a vampire.”  Spike looked to him, surprised, with a silent question.  “I thought you wanted to be a vampire.”

“I am a vampire, love, no choice about that.”

“Then show me.”

Spike finished his blood, no demon features, and left the mug in the sink.

“Show me you’re a human.”

“You think being smart will distract me?  I’m…indistractable, whether that’s a word or not.”

Spike grinned and sped to Xander, forcing him up against the counter, dropping his mouth to Xander’s neck and scraping with the beginnings of fangs.  Xander tensed and grasped Spike’s shoulders, pulling on him although it was impossible to bring him closer.  Tongue across the grazes and Xander whimpered.

“Xaaaaander,” Spike sang to him, lips rubbing over the damaged flesh.  “Xaaaaander.”

“Oh, yeah,” Xander groaned in response, pleasantly tuneless, effectively distracted.

“Know what I’m going to do?”

“Nuh.”

Spike fastened his lips beneath Xander’s jaw and sucked hard, raising a mark, before pulling away with an audible smack.

“Spag bol.”

“Wha…?”

“The spicy version.  You got everything I need?”

Spike deserted his quivering lover and started off across the kitchen, checking in cupboards and the fridge.

“Wha…?” was repeated with a similar eloquence.

“Trouble with Angel is that he doesn’t get how good it is to eat solid food, he thinks it’s just some peculiar quirk of mine.  Might have him hooked on bacon butties, mind.”

“Wha…?”  Xander wobbled his way to the table and sank into a chair.

“Yeah, you said.  So, between the fantasies of fucking you every which way, I’m dreaming of rare steak with fried onions, and chicken risotto, and roast lamb, and that thing you make with the bacon and mushrooms and…”  He finished gathering a dozen ingredients on the counter.  “…this.”

“I’ve been dumped for a plate of pasta,” Xander whined as he thumped his head against the tabletop.

“Well stocked up.  Cheers, love.”

“Beth was here.”

“Should’ve guessed.”

Xander stood again, coming and nudging Spike aside, taking the knife from his hand.

“Let me do it.”

“Why?”

“Because…  Just because.”

Spike considered Xander’s earnest, concerned, teetering on worried expression for a long moment; with a brief nod he sat at the table and let Xander cook for him, being reminded of them in Sunnydale, his place in their relationship.  He understood that Xander had taken everything said a month ago very seriously, and all the belated apologies, denials and retractions were of no import.  Xander had apparently decided that Spike would be playing the part of the Master vampire, and Master vampires sat back and were waited on.  Nice thought.  For all of five minutes.  Ignoring Xander’s attempts to brush him aside, Spike joined him at the counter and began to peel and chop.

They worked in companionable silence for a few minutes before their eyes automatically met and they exchanged a soft smile.

“Glad to be home?”

“More than I can say.”

“Angel happy to see you go?” Xander asked with a knowing grin, a grin that Spike reciprocated.

“Ecstatic wouldn’t be an exaggeration.”

“You think…you think you’re through the madness?”

“I’m in control.”

Xander felt memories stir painfully at that.  He hated that control had to matter so much, that it had to be assured for the second time since Spike’s arrival.

“Did it get worse after you left?”

“Yes.  It got worse.”

“Did you and Angel fight?”

“Constantly”

“Physically?”

“We did this time.  But I nearly tore him apart before he finally retaliated.  That’s new.”

“You’re okay though?  The two of you?”  Spike nodded.  “Good.”

“Good?”

“Yeah.  Family matters,” Xander explained lightly, refusing to meet the humorous sparkle in Spike’s eye’s.

“No more manic jealously then?”

“That he’s had you, time-wise.  I’ll always be jealous of anyone who has a moment of you that I don’t.”

Spike laughed to himself and Xander looked over for an explanation.

“We’re hopeless,” Spike explained, still chuckling.  “You, me: fixated.”

“You mind that?” Xander asked, amused by Spike’s amusement.

The vampire shook his head.

“Obsession’s just a part of life for me, but this…”

“I want to be your obsession,” Xander told him quietly, intensely serious now.

No worries there.  Spike had been preoccupied with the thought of Xander, of this obsession, since he’d found it so hard to leave his partner.  Every time he went away it became more difficult, but this time it had been an unimaginable wrench.

Spike suspected that there was more happening here than either of them understood just yet, that in fact they were powerless to resist this deep, often nonsensical, attraction to one another.  But, right now, Spike bit back that particular observation, not wanting Xander to feel he was being manipulated and that their love wasn’t real.  Because it was.  It was the most potent, genuine emotion Spike had ever experienced.  No doubts, simply questions without answers.  Talking of which, Xander was still waiting for an response, and Spike’s unpounding heart pounded at the need on his partner’s face.

“Just as well.  You will always be my obsession.  A little encouragement and I’m good at always.”

No doubt.  But questions, questions, questions.  Ah, yes: question.

“Xander…  Did I leave my pen here?”

Xander smiled knowingly.

…

After dinner Spike went outside to drive the Jag into the garage and fetch his laptop from the back seat.  He paused long enough to taunt the vampires at the gate, then returned to Xander, setting the computer aside for an appropriate moment.

“You got Cora to lie to me,” Xander reminded them as he threw himself onto the new sofa.  “That’s quite a feat.”

“Made a deal.  I had to promise to be at her surprise party that she so obviously knows nothing about, and could I please draw her something, anything, she would just be so thrilled to have a piece of my artwork.”

Xander could hear that.

“What have you done for her?”

Back to the car and Spike brought in his holdall, digging his sketch pad out from the bottom and turning back a few pages to show Xander a charcoal study of Cora.

“That’s beautiful.  Sensitive.  She’ll love it.”

“Make a frame?”

Xander nodded, taking the pad and flicking through, finding a few more pictures of Cora then the usual glut of himself.

“Don’t you get sick of drawing me?”

Refusing to state the obvious, Spike fell back into the depths of the sofa and spread out.

“This is nice.”

“You like?”

“I do.  Must’ve cost a fortune.”

“The money’s there: I spend it.”

All the recent thoughts, the hours of solitary fixation on the too-good-to-be-trueness of Xander’s position in life bubbled to the surface.  Theories about bad happenings balancing the disconcertingly good - which in a perverse way did make Xander responsible for their past misfortunes (although Spike would never let him think that) - demanded to be aired.  Spike chose a single aspect and took a tentative and deliberately casual verbal step.

“Xander…  Don’t you think you get paid too much?”

Xander looked a little stupefied by that.

“Umm…I work hard, I earn it.”

“Did you ever question this complete stranger walking up to you on a building site, offering you a job you weren’t qualified for, and handing you undreamt of wealth?”

“I had to work hard for the qualifications too.  Pat just…saw something in me.  That’s what he said, he saw something in me.”

Spike spent a few minutes wondering exactly what is was that Patrick had seen in this undisputed demon magnet, but that was better left unsaid.

“Did you ever bother to find out what other people in your position would be earning?”

“I…  No.  There wasn’t any point, I wasn’t going anywhere.”

“And will you ever?”

“Ever?”

“Go anywhere?  Another firm, another state?  Another country?”

“Leave the country?  Spike, what is this about?”

Spike paused again, deep in thought.

“It’s all too easy, Xander.  It’s too good to be true.”

“No.”

“Have you looked at this house recently?”

“Sure, I’ve been working on it for…  Okay, I see what you’re getting at.  It’s a perk of the job.”

“But should the job be quite so…perky?”

“You just don’t get it.  And so what if I’ve been lucky, I think I’ve earned a little luck.  We were due something good.”

That was getting closer to where Spike wanted to be, but Xander was getting twitchy and uncomfortable, steadfastly refusing to see the big picture.  Spike had the choice of pursuing it and ruining his homecoming, or letting it go.  Publicly letting it go.  Because privately it bugged him and would continue to bug him until every question he had was answered in triplicate and signed in blood.  Probably Patrick’s blood.

Spike glanced at where Xander was not-so-patiently waiting for what next.  So he smiled.

“You’re right, love.  We were due something good.”

Xander noticeably relaxed.

“There’s a lot of money in this industry, and Patrick’s very generous with what comes our way.  He liked me from the start, Spike, and he made my luck.  I don’t want to question it too hard or I’ll end up feeling…”  Xander tailed off, starting to think.  But he pushed any questionable thoughts away in seconds.  “All I want to feel tonight is you.”

Spike surprised Xander.  He crawled along the sofa and climbed into his human’s lap, squishing down until he fitted into a long-vacated position, letting himself be held and fussed.  Of course Spike knew what was coming next.

“Purr.”

“No.”

“Purr.”

“You purr.”

“Purr.”

“You purr.”

Xander tried while Spike sniggered into his neck.  Xander kept trying until Spike was weeping with laughter and Xander couldn’t carry on due to the need to join in.

“Let’s face it.  I don’t have the equipment.  Purring equipment before you give me any of that smart mouth.  Ooh, mental picture.  Smart mouth: like.”

“I don’t purr.”

“You did.  When I was recuperating.  I don’t care how many times you say I was hallucinating, I know…”

“It wasn’t me, it was Angel.”

“It was…”

“Angel.”

“You mean…?”

“Angel.”

“Angel?”

“Angel.”

“And isn’t that as embarrassing as you finding us with his tongue in my ear.”

“Don’t worry, the git probably did that too.”

“I haven’t indulged in a good ‘eww’ for a long time but, eww!  And did I mention eww?”

“It’s only Angel,” Spike sniggered.  “He’s not due that big an eww.”

“Yeah, well, would you want his tongue—  We’re not going to go there, are we?  We’re going to change the subject.  Cora’s party.  You just come back for her or did I play a small part?”

Spike wriggled around and somehow got a hand in the correct position to rub Xander’s crotch.

“Quite a big part, actually.”

“Oh, yeah, do that,” Xander encouraged as his head tipped back and his eyes closed.  “Need to christen the sofa.  Need to have you on here.”  The hand stopped and Xander’s eyes opened.  “If I dreamt that I’ll be disappointed.”

Spike re-wriggled and straightened up, staring into Xander’s face for signs of…what?

“You do love me.”

“I, what, yes, I…  Consolidating the return to Xander circa two-thousand with a ‘duh’.  Yes, I love you.  How can you question that?”

Xander studied the troubled face and knew.

“I wish I could take back the things I said, the way I behaved.  I was feeling like shit so I took it out on you, that’s…”

“Okay.”

“Unacceptable.  You’ve only ever tried to care for me, protect me, and that was how I repaid you.  Blaming you because—”

“Tell me.”  Spike shook his head and burrowed close once more, regaining the privacy afforded by pressing his face into Xander’s neck.  “You can tell me what started it.”

“Stop asking,” came the muffled reply.

Xander wasn’t sure he could do that but he’d try.

As his hands began to roam over Spike’s body he felt the tension leave the body beneath his palms.  Spike creaked softly as fingers crept under his t-shirt and found a gold ring to fiddle with.

“Who did the piercings?” Xander asked.

Spike’s surfaced for a kiss before answering.

“I did them myself.  Few hours ago.  I hoped they’d still feel sharp by the time you got your hands on them but they healed.”

“How did it feel?”

The thought of Spike doing this for him and Xander’s voice was thickening with lust; Spike shifted on the hard cock trapped under him.

“Hurt,” Spike affected a pout.  “Needed you to kiss them better.”

“Is now too late?”

“Maybe not.”

The pout morphed into a wicked smile and suddenly Spike was being thrown onto his back, Xander over him and shoving the t-shirt up around Spike’s neck, mouth searching and bestowing healing kisses.

“Better?” as he kissed the left nipple.

“Uh…”

“Better?” as he kissed the right.

Xander’s tongue ghosted and tickled.

“Tease, sodding tease, Xander.  Xander…”

Teeth caught and pulled one ring then the other, Xander shaking his head in a restrained parody of a dog with a toy, making Spike writhe and grind his hips up against Xander’s stomach.

“You get hard when you did them?”

“I got hard.  So hard.  Wanted you there, using that bloody excellent mouth of yours on me.  Can I have…”

Xander was moving before Spike could finish asking, stripping the tight jeans away and making the vampire arch into the long lick that tormented him from the base of his balls to the tip of his cock.  And as Xander allowed him to thrust into his mouth, hands travelled up to find the rings, tweak the rigid nipples they speared.  Xander raised his head to ask…

“Did you come?”

…before Spike grasped his hair and pulled him back down, instinctively thrusting up, too hard, feeling Xander gag and snatching his hands away in a second’s panic.  Xander simply adjusted and carried on working Spike’s cock.  The following touches to Xander’s hair were delicate and controlled, fingertips sliding through loose wisps.

“Didn’t come,” Spike finally answered, brow creasing as he remembered how deliciously infuriating restraint had been, unconsciously moving his hips in a shallow rise and fall.  “Saved myself for you.  Making myself wait was so…  I can see why you…”  The final words were lost in a series of gasps as Xander increased his speed and suction, dragging his teeth lightly across the responsive flesh.  “Love…love…” moaned as Spike succumbed to Xander’s determined efforts.  “Love…”  Shuddering, muscles clenching, grunting with the strain of being vigorously drained.  One massive inhalation and expulsion.  “You.”

“Mmm.”

“Love you.”

“Hmm-mmm.”

“Now.  Fuck me now.  Let me feel you.”

Xander let Spike’s cock slip from his mouth and gave a soft chuckle.

“Maybe I’ll think about it for a while.”

Spike laughed too, barely.

“Git.”

“Yeah.”

Xander crawled up Spike’s body and flopped onto his chest, lovingly kissing the reddened nipples and feeling the contrast between abused flesh and incorruptible metal.

“Can I take these out?”

“The holes will heal up.”

“I know.”

Spike studied Xander’s best poker face with undisguised curiosity, receiving no clues as to what was going through the human’s mind.

“I thought it was what you wanted.”

“It was.”

“Then why…?”

“Can I take these out?”

Without waiting for an answer, Xander removed the rings, taking extraordinary care despite having been tugging them unmercifully moments earlier.  As soon as they were out his mouth was back, tongue laving the swollen flesh: his Spike, just his Spike, unadulterated and – soon – undamaged.  A hand wandered to the stud in Spike’s ear, but Spike very pointedly moved his head away, and the stud remained.

“You’re a funny one.”

“Hilarious,” Xander said flatly between licks.

“Mercurial,” Spike offered after a deal of mental deliberation as he sought the exact word.

“Bollocks.”

Spike sniggered.

“So wrong in that accent.”

Xander looked up with a grin.

“Bollocks.”

Still giggling, Spike pulled Xander up for a kiss, and they mock-fought over Spike’s attempt to get the human out of his clothes.  Xander won, insistently wanting his thinking time before he fucked Spike through any available piece of furniture.

“What did you do when you were away?” Xander asked.  “Between dreaming of fucking, and food, and mutilating yourself.”

Spike hesitated, wondering if this was the appropriate moment, wanting to get it over with.

“I took a drive to Sunnydale one night.”

“You get to see the girls?”

Spike shook his head.

“Not what I went for.”

Sitting Xander up, he climbed off the sofa to fetch his laptop, booting it up and clicking through the files until he found what he wanted.  A couple more clicks and Xander was confronted by a photograph of his parents’ grave.  There was a long silence as he stared at the screen, trying to be unaffected, trying to let it stay unreal, trying not to care.  But, whatever he’d imagined, however much he’d tried to convince himself, he was better than that.  It was real; it was a persistent untended ache deep inside.  He turned beseechingly to Spike, wordlessly pleading for direction.  Permission.  The laptop slid to the floor as arms opened and received him, and Xander was wrapped in a comforting embrace and soothed with tender murmurings as he finally allowed himself to mourn.

Repossession 75       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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