In a period of time that had a mighty selection of appalling occasions to choose from, the wait for Spike to wake had to count amongst the worst.  Xander was fighting depression, trying to cope with the horror of his recent actions, battling guilt over what he had inflicted on his lover, regardless of how necessary it had appeared and however much Spike had begged for the savage treatment.

Xander was convinced that he had finally succeeded where so many others had failed: he had broken Spike, and after the vampire had survived the chip, destructive magic, abandonment, torture, mental and physical rape, Xander had broken him with love, trying to give him what he wanted.

He sat for hours at a time, watching and waiting for a sign of life.  Unlife.  The fact that he was still paying attention to a corpse rather than ash was little comfort, and he replayed the occurrences of Friday night over and over, trying to pinpoint exactly when Spike had slipped away from him.  As if that mattered.

Spike was gone.

…

Was it really only for a day-and-a-half?  Sunday afternoon, and Xander shot from his chair when there was the suggestion of movement: a foot twitching.  Kneeling alongside the bed, Xander eased back the covers from Spike’s face.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he murmured, gently running the back of his fingers over a sunken cheek.  “Think you can open your eyes for me?  C’mon, Spike, open your eyes for me.”  A short delay, and Spike’s eyes blearily opened and tried to focus.  Failed, closed.  “Spike, I need you to wake up for me and feed.  You must be hungry.  Lots of blood, give you some of mine too.  Pizza to dunk?  Something else you want?  I’ll do it, make whatever you want.  Just…wake up, huh?”

The eyelids flickered again, and the vampire struggled against the pull of unconsciousness, finally fixing his attention on Xander; there was no sign of recognition.  Xander knew this, knew the nothing look.  It was back to the beginning, it was rescuing Spike from the alley and being strangers.  It was loss and loneliness.

“You know who you are?  You know who I am?”  No response and Xander was shaking by now, having to stop the stroking and simply lay his hand on the still chest.  “Spike?  William?  William?”   No recognition but the cartoon blink.  “Know me?”  Blink.  “I’m Xander.  I’m your—  Friend.  I’m your friend, and I want to help you.  Blood first, you have to…  I’m going to give you something to drink to make you strong and healthy.  Okay?”  Nothing.  “Okay.”

Xander made a last check of the still-scarred wound sites and helped Spike to sit up before finding a t-shirt and sweatpants for him, dressing him with far greater delicacy than was actually needed, automatically falling back into carer mode.  Having to ignore the lost and lonely, having to be everything he was when there was just Xander, when there wasn’t Xander and Spike.

“Spike?  William?  You know me?  Remember the nod?”  Xander nodded.  “Nod for yes.  Shake…”  Xander shook his head.  “…for no.”  He rocked his hand.  “Maybe.”  Another look into the blank eyes and Xander started to disintegrate under the weight of nothing.  Blinking back tears for the several-hundredth time in three days, he rose, took an unsteady Spike to his feet with him.  “At least you’re awake.  Always has to be a beginning.  Food.  You have to come to the kitchen with me; I can’t leave you alone.  I won’t, I…  Kitchen.  Food first, then…”  Then what?  On the phone to Angel because he couldn’t do this again?

He linked Spike’s arm through his, letting him hang on as they made their way to the kitchen, gazing around at the unfamiliar setting that was his home.  Several times they had to stop as Spike seemed about to collapse, but they made their slow progress through the house and eventually Spike was sitting at the kitchen table trying to stay alert and watch Xander prepare blood.  Xander gave him the first mug-full and encouraged him to drink, helping him hold the mug to his mouth.  Spike took the liquid without reacting.  Xander couldn’t even see the spark of William in this version of Spike, it was as if…  What was the term William had once used?  An empty vessel.  Yes, this was an empty vessel.

Xander made himself toast and coffee, knowing he had to eat too if he was going to be strong enough to cope with this.  Again.  He offered half a slice to toast to Spike.  Who didn’t know what it was and simply stared.  Xander dunked and offered, Spike ate.  Xander put the toast in Spike’s hand and he didn’t understand what to do with it even though Xander had just shown him.

“Too soon?  Am I expecting too much?  Took a little while, didn’t it, last time?  A little while before anything made sense to you.”

Tiny ripples were going through Spike’s body, Xander noticed.  They would grow into shaking fits, he remembered all too clearly, and he took Spike into the living room where they could get comfortable, sitting on the sofa and pulling the unnervingly compliant vampire onto his lap.  The ripples developed into powerful shudders.  All Xander knew was to hang on and whisper words of encouragement.

The words sounded shallow.  Hollow.

Spike was gone, because he’d broken him with love.

…

Xander was used to putting on a front, being brave, mindlessly okay.  He’d played the part for years, hiding bruises and fear and misery, hiding loneliness and heartache and cutting.  And now the front went up again as he presented a façade of wellbeing, refusing to show this Spike, William, empty vessel, the growing despair that threatened to consume him should he relax his guard for a moment.

Not that he was convinced it meant a thing to this version of the vampire; Spike was either half-asleep or suffering from uncontrollable trembling, he was silent, barely able to communicate.  But regardless of what Spike did or didn’t know, his need for Xander was the one constant, and he wanted to be with him all the time.  All the time.  On the rare occasions that Xander moved away, Spike would shakily follow, track him down and make contact, holding onto any part of him that was available, even curling around his feet as he sat in his study pretending to work.  Xander was learning to wash, shave, clean his teeth with a vampire leaning against his back, and he knew without looking the inhibited pose: head down, shoulders rounded, arms folded into his chest and hands balled.

Xander got to hear the purr, and it was heartbreaking.  It happened when Spike couldn’t get the comfort he wanted from Xander: he purred to console himself.  While Xander heated blood, Spike would stay where he was put at the table, gazing longingly across the room, trembling, hugging himself and purring.  If Xander turned in bed to get comfortable and moved away from Spike, the purr would break out instantly and continue until a hand, arm, knee or foot touched.

Since Monday evening Xander had supplied some of the blood himself.  It was to keep their bond strong, he told himself, it was to reassure Spike because Spike loved his blood above all things.  It wasn’t about cutting himself.  Or the relief he felt when the tip of the knife sank into his flesh because for a short time all he had to focus on was a pain he could control.  He didn’t stop to think that the bleeding was making him weaker, even less able to fight the anguish and manage this wretched situation.

Alone.  That was how he wanted it.  The two of them, left alone.  Xander ignored the telephone, the ringing and banging at the door.  He heard a key in the lock once and was glad he’d thrown the bolts.  Glad, despite knowing it was Patrick and longing for him to walk in and take charge.  Wishing it was Angel because a bolted door wouldn’t keep him out.  They needed to be alone but Xander hated being alone.

He had Spike.  The empty vessel that used to be Spike.  Or William.  He missed them both, loved them both, would’ve taken his chances with the demon if it’d been able to break through the nothingness.

“My fault,” Xander told Spike as he held him and rocked him.  “I told Spike to keep William safe.  Spike’s in retreat and William’s tucked away somewhere safe and there’s nothing left.”  Which, Xander tried to reason with himself despite his words, couldn’t be true or the vacant dead body would simply cease to function.  So there was something in the nothing.  A last scrap of…William?  Had to be William.  Or did it?  If Spike…

Rational thought was becoming too hard.  Xander tried to let go of the need to understand this impenetrable mess and go with his instincts.  Spike was going with his instincts.  Sleep, feed, cling to Xander.  Spike, who didn’t want protecting, didn’t want this kind of consideration, back to being traumatised and speechless and wanting to spend twenty-four/seven in Xander’s lap.

…

How much time had passed?  Days, nights.  Xander didn’t know.  Too disorientated through exhaustion to tell.  How could he sleep?  The moment he closed his eyes he was confronted by the image of Spike writhing in agony, almost biting through his own arm in a bid to cope with the pain that Xander was inflicting on him.  Oh yeah, sweet dreams.

How much time?  Enough for Patrick to be concerned enough to keep calling and calling and the ringing of the phone was driving Xander mad.  Maybe Jake, maybe Angel too, but it was Patrick that he could sense and had to stop.  Talk, he knew, talk and it would stop.  That established, Xander waited, tense and ready.  He knew he had to say things, make sense.  He spoke to Spike or William all the time but he didn’t say anything and it didn’t make sense but to stop the noise he had to make sense.

Xander concentrated on making sense.

The phone rang.  Calmly, he crossed to it and picked up the receiver.

“Alex?”

“Hey.”

“Alex, I’ve been so worried.  Are you all right?”

“No, not all right, nothing’s right.”

“You want me to come around?”

“No.”

“I could be with you in fifteen minutes, I don’t need to…”

“Stop, stop there.   Y’know, I can’t do this any more, I can’t be torn like this between Spike and work, and I have to be here.  I can’t even say it’s a choice because there is no choice any longer, and even if it were a choice there’d be no choice because nothing matters more to me than Spike.”

“No-one is asking you to make a choice, I just want to…”

“No, stop.  Stop calling me.”

“If you let me help you, everything will be okay.”

“I don’t want to hear it, I’ve been listening to how okay it’ll be forever and nothing’s okay.”

“Alex…”

“Please, just…  Know what?  I quit.  I won’t be back to work, I quit.  So you don’t have to call, you don’t have to visit.  I quit.  Over, finished, done, now we need to be left alone.  There is no choice and Spike needs me so leave us alone.”

Xander ended the call…

“Went well.  Made sense.  End of that.”

…and returned to Spike, who was lying on the sofa where he’d been told to stay and had stayed and was now a purring, shivering ruin.

Xander wrapped himself around the trembling figure and went back to calming and soothing, calming and soothing.

“Hey, you hear that?” he said softly.  No response.  “I just quit my job.  So I can be here with you, take care of you.  I’ve always talked about priorities, time I showed you mine.  You must’ve wondered.  In the past.”  Xander placed gentle kisses in the soft waves of Spike’s unadulterated hair.  “Maybe it’s just time to move   on.”  Xander grasped at hazy thoughts.  “We’ve got a heap of money, it’s not like we have to worry about that.”  Thought.  “We’ll have to move, the house is the Partnership’s and I don’t feel right taking advantage of that if I’m not with them.  And I quit, so…”  Thought.  “The car…  The Merc goes back.  That’s okay, I’ll deal.  I guess you’ll let me use the Jag if I beg hard enough.”  Xander closed his eyes and fought back the incipient tears.  “It’ll be okay, it’ll all be okay.  I’ll be with you.  And after all…  It’s only a job.  Not my life.  Not what I am.  That’s you.  You’re everything.”

Spike was everything.  And Spike was gone.

…

It all should have been different, he knew.  So what for the ignorance of youth, you didn’t hurt people, you didn’t let them get hurt.  You breathed life into dead slayers and that was good and right but too much of the rest was wrong.  Jesse.   Baptism of fire.  Jesse.  Irresponsible and letting Cordelia get hurt.  Poor Oz.  Hurt.  Willow.  Wrong.  Angel condemned.  Why Faith…?  Wrong.  Him.  Wrong.  And letting Anya be hurt was so bad because he loved, loved, loved her, no denying that.  Hurting Buffy and heaping blame, bad, no logical reason, it was bad, and there were people singing and dancing and dying.  Burning.  He was wrong and if Tara…?  Mom, Dad, that was wrong, that was so wrong and he let them be hurt and youth was no excuse any longer, he was old.  So old.  His spirit was too old.  Hurting Spike and leaving him hurting for five long years.  Spike who he’d loved and lost so many times and now Spike was gone.  Hurt and gone.  Broken.  And it wasn’t Spike who was bad and evil and stupid.  It all should have been different.  He knew.  It all should have been different.

…

They showered together, they touched.  Dried and to the bed, Spike giving the almost smile as Xander pressed him into the mattress and told him he was smart and beautiful and loved.

Xander began kissing the wound sites, a pattern he had quickly fallen into, caressing the unmarred flesh with fingertips and lips as Spike purred a good purr, a contented purr; the rapidly evolving charm of this persona and the happiness purr had stopped the human’s melancholic descent and probably saved Xander from the sharp, metallic, final stage of his depression.

Xander knelt between Spike’s thighs, smiling as the vampire stretched his arms out wide, tilted his head back into the pillow, and Xander remembered William.  The first time.  Stretched, tilted like that, after…  A sudden taste memory, and Xander was swallowing it down, as he’d swallowed William down.  Pure thoughts, Xander told himself, and went back to kissing the non-existent scars before working up to the existing, licking his claim mark and having Spike squirm pleasurably beneath him, hard now and cock prodding at Xander’s growing erection.

“Would that do it?  Blow you?  Fuck you?  Bring you back to me like last time?”  Spike purred and rubbed.  “Can I make it worse?  Joke, laugh.  What would you say?  What did You say?  Something about fucking me blind as soon as you knew I wasn’t going to die.  Well, you’re not going to die, are you, baby?  Spike?   William?”  Xander kissed his way from throat to navel.  “Maybe I should, maybe I shouldn’t, but you know what?  Don’t give a damn, just want you happy, just want to taste you, make you feel good.  So good.”

The flavour was grounding.  A moan emerged from both throats as Xander slid his mouth over Spike’s glans, using his lips to push back the foreskin, licking and teasing and smiling around taut flesh as the moan broke into the purr broke into the moan.  This was them and this was right, and Xander knew that even if it didn’t bring Spike back, this almost empty vessel was happy right now and deserved that.

So Xander continued, and soon Spike, William, was breathing, gasping, writhing, and coming in the back of Xander’s throat as his hands fisted in dark hair, most definitely hurting but illogically making the human smile again rather than wince.  Xander’s grip around his own erection tightened, stopping rather than encouraging climax.

A satisfied post-orgasmic creak that made Xander tingle with recognition, and Spike was stretching himself out over the bed once again, emitting a massive purr.  Xander raised his head and laughed at the languorous contentment; at the sound, Spike leant up and indelicately pulled Xander to him, nuzzling and rubbing himself over Xander as if trying to absorb every ounce of his scent, before curling into him, soft and sweet and clinging.

Happy, yes, but not Spike and not William.

“Do you love me because you know it’s me?  Or do you love me because I’m nice to you?”  No response but the purr.  “Spike?  William?  Who is it?  Must be someone.  Some…thing.”  For a moment Xander wished he had a separate name to call the demon, because maybe that was what he was dealing with, however unlikely with all the cuddling and general adorability.

Spike’s hand came to rest on Xander’s persistent erection, fingers wrapping around the hard shaft and squeezing gently.  With a frustrated hiss Xander prised it away.

“You don’t have to do that, you can leave that.”  Spike shook off Xander’s hand and continued to touch him, refusing to be deterred.  “I don’t think you should do that.  What I did to you was…  Well, I don’t know if that was okay, but I think it was okay.  This wouldn’t be.  So, don’t…  Spike!”

Xander regretted having to be rough with Spike but he pushed him away, swinging his legs off the bed and about to stand when Spike twisted around, positioning himself on elbows and knees.  Offering himself.

Xander stood, wanting to put some space between himself and the undeniable temptation, fighting the insane, intense need to repossess Spike, bring him back.  Spike shifted, moving a little closer, beginning an almost inaudible keen.

“Want you, Spike, but I can’t.  I don’t know who you are.  I…”  Abruptly turning away, Xander went to the dresser, finding t-shirt and sweatpants and quickly pulling them on.  “Hey, baby, need you to get dressed.”  Too much anxiety in his voice, Xander tried to calm down.  “C’mon, Spike, not looking.  Can’t do this.  You have to get dressed.  Come on, Spike.”

A glance back at the bed and Spike was moving, once again turning his body – his offer - to Xander, patiently waiting to be taken.

“Who are you?” Xander asked in a dry whisper.

William wouldn’t be so forward, Spike couldn’t cope with that position, so what was left?  Was he back to pure demon?  Surely the demon would take what it wanted, after all, it had tried before.  But it had also wept on his chest after escaping a nightmare, accepted Xander’s reprimand when it had become too demanding.  He.  Not it, he.  This was still Spike, a part of Spike.  He.

Xander opened his mouth to make another entreaty but he was, quite literally, speechless.  He wanted to take what was being offered, his damned cock was still rock hard and showed no signs of losing interest, he wanted to take.  His physical reaction to Spike was ingrained; Spike could get him hard with a look, with a word, and his body was ready for him, always ready.  Until now Xander had enjoyed being so easily manipulated, the thought of Spike moving close behind him as he carried out some mundane chore, whispering, ‘Now, lovely,’ in that darkly seductive voice and ensuring Xander was hard and willing in seconds was an erotic thrill he thought he’d never tire of.

The front of the sweatpants was becoming damp from his misplaced desire; he made for the door.

“You’ll be okay by yourself for a while, Spike?  I have to go beat something to death with a shovel.”  Spike jerked around, fixing Xander with a panicked expression.  “I won’t be long, you’ll be safe, I’ll…”  Spike was with him instantly, leaning in to suckle the skin of his neck, hands seeking entrance to his pants.  Xander caught his wrists and pushed him away, just a few inches but enough to attain eye contact.  “No, Spike.  No.”  He put on his best grim face.  “No.”

The merest tremble of the vampire’s delectable bottom lip and Xander was wavering.  This was hopeless.  Attempting to put Spike aside for a second time, Xander found that this was going to be a struggle: no way Spike was prepared to be left or denied, he was clinging and keening and his hands freed themselves and zeroed straight in on Xander’s groin, and even as he acknowledged that it was a dreadful thing Xander found that he was trying to justify giving in to the demands.  What if this was what Spike needed to become whole again?  Claiming?  The word itself pressed Spike’s buttons in a way that Xander would never truly comprehend, and what if that was what…

No better than the bloody rape Spike had begged for time and again.  Xander rebelled against himself and the pressure, pushing Spike back to the bed and throwing him down; for a few seconds there was delight on the vampire’s face as he imagined he was getting his way, but it soon changed to shock as Xander fled back to the door.

A tremendous snarl and Xander found himself flat-faced against the wall, cool body of the demon along his back, and this was the demon, no mistake about that sound or this strength.  Flipped around, Xander came nose-to-nose with the full game face, meeting the golden eyes and searching once again for a trace of his Spike.  Nothing.  Pure demon.

“Hey, baby,” he said weakly, despairing that even this shock wasn’t enough to deflate his nuisance of an erection and knowing too well the message it was sending.  Spike leaned in, chest to knees, body moving with the subtlest roll but enough to make Xander gasp with the sensation.  He was scented several times, each long inhalation making him more aroused; the vampire studied him with blank curiosity, and Xander could tell that this Spike was as disconnected as the one he’d been living with.

A snuffling breath on Xander’s cheek, another on his neck, then the ridged face moved to his shoulder, without warning biting into the muscle through the t-shirt.  Xander cried out, the shock of pain and spontaneous orgasm forcing the outburst.  Spike withdrew his fangs, scented Xander again, stared at the growing red stain.

“Don’t waste it,” Xander gasped shakily.  Spike tilted his head, uncomprehending, adopting the air of a cute, albeit ferocious puppy.  Xander’s hand rose weakly and tapped at his shoulder.  “Drink this.”

Contrary as ever, Spike backed off, allowing Xander to slide down the wall.  When Xander finally found the switch in his head that opened his eyes he discovered Spike back in his previous position, on elbows and knees, offering himself.  Xander looked on in sated fascination, having never been in a position to study the naked demon before.  He looked…sturdier, it was somehow possible to see the might of this creature.  The spine was more pronounced, an echo of the facial ridges, and as Xander's mouth and fingers yearned to explore, his mind threw up the vision of being draped over that powerful back as he fucked and touched, learned new tricks to pleasure this aspect of his lover.

Telling himself that he shouldn’t even be thinking that, he struggled to sit up, shoulder objecting to its recent treatment.  The crimson stain no longer appeared to be spreading, which Xander saw as a good sign even while regretting that Spike hadn’t taken advantage of this available snack.  He didn’t start to question the actions that had led to it, appreciating that his knowledge of the demon was limited at best.  Now all he wanted was another shower and bed, preferably with a compliant vampire, the one with the cuddles and purring that had allowed him to be lulled into a false sense of security.

“Will I ever learn?” he sighed.

At the sound Spike looked around, expression mean and frustrated, and Xander wondered how fast he could get hard again if it was a choice of fuck or be mangled.  Spike shifted impatiently, demanding more than expecting.

“Doesn’t work like that,” Xander told him.  “I won’t take advantage of you like that.  I’ll make you feel good but…”  Xander let out an alarmed squeak as the vampire spun around and loomed over him, low snickering growl emerging.  “There’s no point in threatening me, the answer’s no.  You want to do me then…  I don’t want that because that belongs to your whole self, not this scrap, and Spike, whole Spike gets me like that.  Do you understand?  Anything?  Anything at all?”

Evidently no understanding, just running on pure instinct.  Not as wary as he used to be, but that was still enough to make Xander ultra-cautious around this creature.  Spike flinched away defensively as Xander reached up to touch his face, growl becoming sharper, eyes narrowing.

“Hey, c’mon sweetheart, you know I won’t hurt you.”  Xander dropped his hand.  “Let’s clean up and get to bed.  I’ll make you feel good, you can get some sleep…”  Xander began to slide his way past the vampire, only to find himself brusquely grasped and hurled into the nearest corner.  “Spike!” Xander reprimanded as he scrambled upright.  “One of us breaks when he’s thrown around, remember?  Not all tough guys like you.”

Xander pressed himself back against the wall at Spike’s intimidating approach, letting the fact that he was in big trouble sink in.

Repossession 82       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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