When Spike woke he felt completely at peace.  Warm verging on hot, wrapped in the embrace of his sleeping lover.  For a long while he lay and savoured the sensation of being held, but at the edge of his hearing was the sound of Angel prowling about.  A glance at the clock showed it to be mid afternoon and a news update was way overdue.

With a sigh of resignation Spike twisted around in Xander’s grasp and gave him a tender kiss.

“Xander.  I have to get up.”  Another kiss and his human was stirring.  “I have to get up before the old man breaks down the door to find out what’s happening.”

“No,” Xander murmured as the grip intensified.

“I have to go.”

“No.”

“I’ll be back.”

Spike prised Xander off and quickly left the bed before he could be recaptured.  He watched as Xander woke properly, tilting his head and smiling into the dozy brown eyes.

“William?”

The smile froze on Spike’s face.

“Spike,” he corrected, trying to keep his tone even when he wanted to scream his name and drum it into Xander’s head.  “I’m Spike.”

He saw Xander’s pain, and wanted to scream for another reason.  It hadn’t worked.  He’d gambled on William putting things right and it hadn’t worked.  The dreadful sensation of losing everything he held dear came and went, and Spike walked around to Xander’s side of the bed and sat on the edge.

“You’re mine, love.  All mine.  You have to forget this other nonsense.”

“William?”

“Spike.”

“But…  I saw…”

“You dreamt.  That’s all it was.  A dream.  This is real, Xander, I’m real.”

Spike pulled back the covers and laid his hands on Xander’s chest; Xander gasped at the contact, could feel it wasn’t his William, and tried to jerk away but Spike wasn’t having any of that.  He held Xander in place and gradually the panic passed.  It was possible to see Xander returning to the here and now.

“Spike?”

“Yeah,” Spike replied coolly.

Xander’s hands moved to Spike’s, tried to ease them away.

“Don’t try to stop me touching you.”

“I don’t…  I can’t…”

“All about William, is it?  Spike gets the big fuck off and Billy-boy gets it all.”

Xander almost managed to squirm away but Spike pulled him back, leant down to kiss what was his.

“Don’t!”

“Why, Xander?”

“Because…because…  This is wrong, it feels wrong.  You and me…”

“Listen to me.”

“This is wrong.”

“Listen!  However confused you are, you have to understand.  There’s us, or there’s nothing for you at all.  Not as a human, at least.”

It took a moment for that to sink in.

“You wouldn’t,” Xander whispered, staring at Spike in shock.

“Don’t try me, eh?  Don’t let’s find out.”  Xander’s struggles had completely ceased.  Spike ran his hand over the still body, scratching off the last remaining flecks of dried semen.  “That’s the end of that,” he announced as he brushed the flakes away.  “The end of William.”

“No.”

“Yes.  No more fucking around for you.  There’s me and that’s it.”

Xander turned his face away in sorrow and shame.  Spike took the opportunity to look at where he’d damaged Xander’s stomach.  The wound was healed but the scar was vivid; the fact it was still there at all reflected the time the demon had spent clawing and scraping away at the skin, the fact he’d let it become infected.  He’d scarred Xander for life.  Spike lowered his face, laving the reddened flesh as Xander shuddered and tried to suppress tears.  A few minutes attention and Spike’s head rose, bringing his wrist to his mouth and slicing it open.  “Drink this.”

“No,” as Xander tried to twist away.

Spike grabbed his human and dragged him around; one hand buried in his hair, holding him in place, as Spike pressed the bloody wrist to his mouth.

“Drink this for me, love,” he coaxed, superficial sweetness over granite determination.

Xander let the first trickles past his lips, into his throat; the first swallow and he was groaning anew as the familiar fire coursed through him, made him hot and hard and wanting.  Spike slid down his body, engulfing Xander’s erection and taking it deep into his throat.  He felt his teeth unintentionally graze the tender flesh as Xander pushed him brusquely away.

“Don’t.  It’s wrong.”

“Why?”

“It’s wrong.”

“Why?” Spike demanded for a second time.  Again, Xander turned his face away.  A cold, cold feeling blossomed in Spike’s gut and spread through him.  “Because I’m not William.  It’s wrong because I’m not your William.  I’m not…who you love.”

“I…”

“You want William.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t say sorry,” Spike ordered, “just tell me the truth.  Is it William that you’re in love with?”  No words.  Xander simply cried.  Spike swallowed hard.  “Doesn’t matter,” he insisted unconvincingly.  “I’m used to being second best.  Usually it’s Angel, it’s Daddy.  At least this time…  No more William for you, Xander.  You’ve made sure of that.  Any chance of him touching you again and I’ll stake myself first.  No more.  Do you understand?”  Nod.  “You have to settle for me.”  Another swallow to hopefully clear the tremor from his voice.  “I’m a part of you, Xander, and you’re as much a part of me as William is.  We belong together and we’re staying together.  Just us.  Xander and Spike.  Just us.”

Xander’s wrists were caught and held down; Spike was back on the softening cock, sucking, licking, tongue probing with brutal efficiency, working the most tender spots, the spots that usually made Xander come and yell his love for Spike.  Spots that, today, made Xander come and cry harder for his loss.  Spike swallowed, cleaned, withdrew, stared at Xander with love and hurt and disdain and longing.

“You’re mine, Xander.  And I’m all there is now.  Get used to it.”

Spike straddled the now unresisting human and began to fist his own cock, bringing himself to a rapid, dispassionate climax.  Semen sprayed over Xander’s face and chest, and Spike rubbed it into the skin, instinctively marking his territory.

He climbed off and contemptuously threw the covers over his sobbing partner.

“I’m all you have,” he reminded Xander coldly.  “Get used to it.”

…

Angel looked at Spike expectantly as he walked into the kitchen and silently took blood bags from the fridge to the microwave.  After setting the timer Spike turned and leant against the counter.

“I’m relieved to see you.  You, Spike.”

“Yeah, me Spike.”

Pause.

“William,” Angel ventured.

“Fuck, not you an’ all.  Spike.”

“I gave William a certain…impression.”

“So he wouldn’t want to stick around, I know.”

“It was just an impression.  I never intended…”

“I’m not stupid, I know that too.”

Pause.

“Well?”

“What?”

“Xander.”

“It didn’t work,” Spike replied briskly, matter-of-factly, as if the knowledge wasn’t destroying him.  “He’s more obsessed with William than ever.  He’s…”  In love with him.  Not me.  He’s in love with someone else.  “…upset.  I’m going to let him sleep for a while.”

Tangible discomfort hung in the air as Spike served up his blood, offered some to Angel, then sat at the table.  Angel sat alongside him.

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.  At least I understand it better now.  What I have to contend with.”

“And what is that exactly?”

Spike stood abruptly, sending his chair crashing into the wall.

“Think I might do some painting.  Don’t disturb me unless I’m needed.”

Angel watched Spike go, sipped his blood, and idly considered the pros and cons of turning his grand-childe’s Consort.

…

In the studio, Spike sank onto the chaise longue and dropped his face into his hands in utter despair.

But he allowed it to last only minutes.

He was soon up again, studying the unfinished painting of himself and Xander that sat on the easel, ready to work on it so he could get it finished and shipped off to Willow.  He knew Xander had wanted to keep it but that probably wasn’t an issue any longer, so he could part with it easily.  Maybe.

He thought as he worked.  Okay, he accepted that Xander would always be looking for William in him, and that he’d always see the yearning in Xander’s eyes for something he couldn’t have, but they’d become accustomed to their losses in time.  It would be easier for Xander because of the physical resemblance, and even the crossover of certain behavioural traits.  Spike would insist on contact, and he’d eventually get to have sex with Xander again without too much fuss, once he’d convinced Xander that it was Spike or nothing.  Or when he’d worn the human down with sufficient guilt.  If he held out for too long the blood would decide it.  Sex aside, he’d still have the company and all the material perks of being with Xander, because he certainly wasn’t going anywhere.

It wouldn’t be as painful as being rejected for Angel.  That had felt impossible at times: Dru having Spike but not truly wanting him, and he’d learnt to answer to My Angel or Daddy in their bed, keeping her satiated and happy, and leaving her satisfied in her own sweet, insane way that she was still loved by the absent vampire.  It wouldn’t be as painful as that.

And what would it hurt to answer to William occasionally when Xander let the name slip out instead of his own?  And what would it hurt to act slightly Williamy when he wanted Xander to be happy, or needed to manipulate him to get his own way?  Spike could do that, play the part, make Xander happy.

Willow used to tell him he was very accepting, and she was right.  Absolutely right.  He’d accept this, and he’d accept whatever Xander was willing to give him.  He’d accept any scrap of Xander that was thrown his way because…

With a snarl of frustrated rage Spike threw aside his brush and palette, tore into the canvas with demon claws, kept tearing until both sets of features were obliterated.

Standing back to examine the result of his petulance, Spike began to laugh.  At his situation, his reactions, his former hopes and dreams, especially his former hopes and dreams.  He recalled Darla, angry at him for some trivial misdemeanour, beating him until she took the skin off his back.  ‘You only get what you deserve,’ she’d told him.  Perhaps she’d been right, and this was what he deserved.  After all, what could a god-forsaken demon expect in this existence?

He’d never merited Xander’s love and devotion, however much he’d clung to it under the pretence that it was his right.

“Bugger that!”

Xander had gifted himself to Spike and that was the end of the ownership issue.  Spike never returned gifts.  Xander was his and that was the end of it.

As for the rest?  He’d learn to…

Accept.

…

Spike felt night fall.  It sent prickles of anticipation down his spine, and he was ready to hit the town.  Or the country.  Or the woods or the trails or simply anywhere that he could find something non-human to kill as nastily and painlessly (for him) as possible.

He found Angel in the living room, reading about his building’s pedigree in the Fran Shorveno chapter of one of Xander’s books on architecture.

“Want to come walkies?” he asked lightly.  “Or rather, want to come killies?”

Angel smiled the murderous smile he was careful never to show Buffy, and was on his feet in seconds.  He took a hard look at his grand-childe; he’d assumed Spike had spent this time falling apart and was delighted to see he’d spent it pulling himself together.  Spike sauntered casually into his space until they were only inches apart.

“You’re looking well, boy.”

“Feeling well, Grandpa.  And I’m ready to close the membership list for Death Wish Club.”

“You have weapons?”

Spike backed off with a smirk, crooking a finger and leading Angel through to the garage.  He opened a chest and stood back with a flourishing gesture.

“My toy box.  Xander made me a few, bought me the others.”

“He’s a very considerate Consort.”

“Yes, he is,” Spike agreed with a tight smile.  “And I may remind him of that when we get back.”

“You check on him?” Angel asked, preoccupied now with the assortment of weapons, finding himself something comfortable to handle and suitably lethal.

“Still asleep.”

“Don’t you have to…feed and water him?”

“Later.  Right now…” Spike helped himself to a small, perfectly balanced axe he was particularly fond of.  “Let’s have us a little fun.”

…

“You awake, love?”  Evidently not.  “I’ll just sit and talk to you, won’t disturb you.  Won’t…touch you.”  Spike sat cross-legged on his side of the bed and took up Xander’s limp arm, entwining their fingers.  “Yeah, all right, I lied.  I will touch you.  You’re mine, and I can do what I like with you.”  He brought up the hand to kiss it, pressing his nose and mouth against the warm, musky flesh and inhaling deeply.  “Mine.”

Xander slept on.  An unnaturally deep, thankfully dreamless sleep.

“We paid a visit to Fan Club headquarters tonight.  It didn’t take us long to find the nest, Bradley was very helpful as you can imagine.  They’ve got an interesting set-up, vast old mansion a few miles North of the town.  It used to be a nut-house apparently, in the days when decent folk thought lunatics needed to be tucked away out of sight and mind.  The vamps must’ve got in there fairly quickly after the humans left because it’s in bloody good nick, and they’ve looked after it.

“They’ve built this whole community there; some of them had turned their entire families to keep them together.  There’s one family, three generations: bloke turned his folks, wife, kids.  Amazed he didn’t turn the pets.  I’ve never seen anything quite like it.  And guess what, love?  Three-quarters of them are willing to hand the community over to me because they don’t know how to cope without a Master.”

Spike chuckled softly to himself.

“You should’ve seen them when we walked in there.  I’d’ve made them weak at the knees by myself, but I had Angelus by my side.  Angelus and William the Bloody,” Spike grinned.  “Has quite a ring to it.  Always did.  Just the sound of it makes me horny if I’m honest, but I wouldn’t tell you that if you were awake, and I won’t be telling the old man.  Like he doesn’t know,” Spike laughed ruefully.

“Death Wish Club kept a low profile, bloody cowards, but we did manage to find a few to dust as an introduction.  The Fan Club liked that.  They showed us around, offered us a couple of their regulars – that’s something else that makes sense, seeing as a place like this would notice people getting drained left, right and centre: they have a bunch of humans that feed them.  I don’t think they’ve been bullied or thralled into it, most of them are in it for the kicks.  Couple are living members of the dead families doing their duty.

“We didn’t take any blood.  I’m not sure whether I could have or not, seeing as it was freely offered, but I wasn’t going to risk it.  And Angel was just prowling and scowling and giving everything that fuck off look of his, getting ‘em all worried and jittery for the fun of it.  Other…services were offered, but you don’t want to hear about that.”

Spike lifted Xander’s hand and kissed it again.

“You understood, didn’t you?  You said about me needing what they had to offer.  But it was a bit of a shock to the system, when I saw tonight, quite clearly, that I could have somewhere of my own.  Not being watched over by you, or by Angel, not having to be kept.  I could have my own court again.  And I’d be good for them because I understand the whole family thing, I wouldn’t look down on them for wanting it ‘cause I know the worth.

“I saw myself there.  Living like a vampire for a change.  I’d still be your other half, I could still spend time here with you.  Not could, would.  Would, because you can’t take away what we’ve been to one another whether you want me, William, both or neither.”

Stretching out alongside Xander, Spike rested a hand on his chest and gently rocked him.

“Want to wake up, pet?  You must be hungry.  Dry.”  There were no signs of Xander waking: his heartbeat was slow and regular, breathing relaxed and steady.  He felt right, smelt right, no point in disturbing him he if didn’t want to be disturbed.  No point in waking him up just for him to be confused and miserable.

Spike leant across and gave Xander a few soft kisses, rubbing his cheeks over the beard which he found fascinating for no good reason.

“I’m not going anywhere, Xander.  I could choose another life but it wouldn’t be worth the effort without you.  You worry about me sitting around waiting for you to come home, think I shouldn’t cook for you, clean for you, like it’s…”  Spike let out an amused snort.  “…beneath me.  It’s nothing.  What’s the big deal in cooking a steak or running the Hoover round?  Means bugger all in the scheme of things.  I told you once, I do what it takes, whatever it takes, to make you happy.”

A last kiss and Spike sat up.

“Don’t, though, do I?  Make you happy.  Not anymore.”

…

Spike entered Angel’s bedroom and laid down, fully clothed, beside his resting sire.  He folded his arms beneath his head and stared at the ceiling, picking through his problems until he ached with it.  Eventually Angel stirred and tugged at the trapped covers, opening one eye to peer at Spike.

“You can get in.”

“No.  I can’t.”

“You think I’m going to…”

“If Xander woke up and saw me in bed with you he might jump to the wrong conclusion, and I don’t want that.”

“If he so much as cared,” Angel muttered snarkily.

“You don’t have to take this so personally, it’s not you he’s forgotten.”

Angel sighed, kicked the covers off his feet and stretched.  Spike had been here before, too many times to count, in bed with Angelus as he did the kick and stretch.  He’d explained it as being a throwback to his time as a human, Liam always kicking off the covers because he was too hot.  Spike had frequently wondered if that was why Angel was so good at being cold, but he’d eventually learnt that he was the exception, not Angel, that vampires weren’t meant to crave warmth.

Spike turned onto his side, facing away from Angel and the bittersweet memories of his days with Angelus.  It was only seconds before Angel was behind him, close but not too close, casually throwing an arm around his waist as if he still owned him.  The LA manoeuvre, Spike had labelled this, and he chuckled to himself at the thought of Angel’s possessiveness.  His protectiveness.  For a horrible moment Spike wanted to thank his sire for caring, but the embarrassing need came and went as sleep crept closer, encouraged by the soothing drone of a very familiar purr.

…

Forty-eight hours of sleep and Xander finally woke.  It took him a few minutes to figure out who and where he was, and a few more to remember and miss the dynamic blond vampire who should be in bed with him.

He sat up somewhat creakily, quickly drank down the bottle of water that had been left on his cabinet, then shuffled off to the bathroom.  He saw himself in the mirror and giggled with the shock of seeing himself so sleep-worn and beardy, and debated shower and shave versus pursuing Spike to let him know that he was back on the planet.

A noise downstairs made up his mind.  Front door slamming, the racket of Spike and Angel coming in, squabbling about an indiscernible something.  It made Xander feel uneasy, as if – and this made no sense whatsoever – as if he’d done something wrong.  Maybe he’d caught the sound of his name in a not-so-friendly tone, or…  Xander shook it off.  He wanted to see Spike and that was all that mattered.

As Xander approached he could tell the fight was about the local vampires, misjudged numbers, whether or not to start a cull, but he couldn’t make out who was arguing for what, and he certainly didn’t know what that had to do with him, so maybe he’d been wrong about his involvement.  And if for some unknown reason he felt guilty, then maybe it was because he couldn’t remember the last time he didn’t feel guilty about something or another.

He observed them from the doorway for a few minutes, unnoticed, as Angel paced and Spike glared.

“Hey.”

The heads of both vampires snapped around in his direction as Xander came into the living room and flopped down beside Spike on the sofa, taking his hand and kissing the back, failing to notice the rush of emotions on the vampire’s face.

“How are you, Xander?” Angel asked.

“I…um…  I’m feeling a lot better, I guess.  I’ve been ill, right?”

“That’s right.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.  I don’t remember much about the last couple of days and that’s how I get with a high temperature so…”

“What’s the last thing you remember?”

Xander thought hard.  His expression became troubled.  He kissed Spike’s hand again.

“Spike was acting crazy, you turned up…  It’s…kinda muddled.”

“That was a month ago.”

Xander looked at Angel as if he’d grown a second head.

“It can’t be.  A month?  What’s been wrong with me?”

“You were right, love,” Spike finally spoke, cutting in before Angel could be too liberal with the facts.  “About the high temperature.  I…mucked you about, you got an infection, you’ve been ill.”

“I feel…”  Laying Spike’s hand down, Xander ran his fingers through his own hair and scrubbed at his scalp.  “Feel weird.  Like there’s an itch inside my head.  God, I’m filthy, I need a shower,” he scratched at his chin, “and I’m looking forward to shaving this off.”

“Let me get you something to eat first.”

“Not really hungry, just dry.  I’ll grab some water before I go up.”  He smiled at Spike.  “Back soon,” and he left the room.

Upstairs, Xander looked at his bed, and he could see that he’d been sleeping there by himself.  He checked the spare bedrooms and only found one made up, which suggested that Spike had been sleeping with Angel.  Not sleeping with Angel, simply…sleeping with Angel.  It was with some surprise that Xander discovered he felt no jealousy.  He no longer felt threatened by the older vampire’s presence and wondered what Angel had done to turn that around.  Maybe he’d remember, maybe he wouldn’t.

He scratched his head again, unable to get at the itch, and headed for the shower.

…

“What do you make of that?” Spike asked, flicking a puzzled glance to Angel and seeing a concentrated frown on the heavy brow.

“He seems…fine,” Angel said cagily.

“Yes.  Perfectly…fine,” Spike borrowed the tone.

“If he doesn’t remember…”

“Oh, yes, right, he’s getting bloody good at this forgetting lark.”

“Don’t tell him what happened.”

“I have to tell him.”

“Are you going to risk that?  Asking him if he recalls rejecting you for William?”

“Why is it a risk?”

“Because the same idea might appeal to him now if you put it in his head.”

“No.”  Spike stood and fidgeted his way around the room.  “No.  You saw him, he wants me.  That was my Xander.”

“So…he was simply ill and delusional before.  Nothing more to it.”

“Yes, that’s precisely it.”  The eyes Spike turned on Angel were full of doubt.  “That’s not it at all.”  Spike slumped back onto the sofa with a deep sigh.  “I don’t know what to do.”

“Do nothing.”

“That’ll help.”

“Maybe it will.  Wait and see how Xander is over the next few days.”

Spike’s head jerked up.

“I’m tired of this.  Feeling manipulated.  Now I’ll be trying to be William and I can’t be him, I’m not him.  Just so’s…”  He paused, irritation rising.  “There it is, inside me: fear.  Chance of losing him and I’m too frightened for rational thought.”

Angel paced for a while more, but this was different pacing, thinking pacing.

“The only way to stop being afraid,” he proposed, “is to remove the threat.”

“But I can’t make him want me, I—” Spike came to an abrupt halt.  Studying Angel curiously.  “Leave him.  You mean leave him.”  Angel remained silent and expressionless.  A laugh broke free and was swallowed as quickly.  “Leave Xander?”

“You spoke about it.  The possibility of becoming Master to…”

“Never seriously.  It was just talk.  I’m never going to leave Xander.”

“But they don’t know that.”

At a momentary loss, Spike frowned at Angel, impressed by the manic tinge to his expression.

“They?”

“They,” Angel confirmed.

“The family?” Spike filled in the gaps.  “Oh, right, the family.”  Adding under his breath, “I wouldn’t be allowed to go even if I wanted to.”

“If you’re sick of being treated like a puppet, perhaps you should make an attempt to confirm who exactly is pulling the strings.”

“You think—”  A knowing look passed between the two vampires.  “Want to play taunt Patrick, is that it?”

“Think we could force his hand?”

“We don’t know what we’re dealing with.”

“This might be the way to find out.”

“And what if it isn’t him?  What if it’s just me and Xander, wrong together.  It’s never made sense, me and Xander.”

“There’s too much that can’t be explained by a bad choice of mate.”

Angel took a notebook from his coat pocket and flicked through.

“We’ve had this conversation before.”

“You’ve started taking minutes?” Spike asked with a derisory laugh.

“Because Xander’s not the only one with the defective memory.”

“What did we decide last time?”

Angel flicked through a few pages and checked.

“You…er…no, wait.  Here.  You got angry with me and walked off before we could decide anything.”

Spike nodded, that sounded reasonable enough.

“Can we take the anger as read then?”  He stood.  “I want to be with Xander right now, and I don’t want to fight any more tonight.”  He started for the door.  “Figure it out, Angel.  How to work the family and get to the bottom of this.  As long as Xander’s safe I’ll play along.”

Spike left to see Xander, and Angel spent a few minutes checking his previous notes before…  He wracked his brains, trying to remember what they’d been talking about.  But it was already gone.  Angel sighed, put the book away, and didn’t even have the chance to hope that he hadn’t lost anything too important before that thought was gone too.

…

Xander was just starting to shave when Spike arrived and, as he had done so many times before, sat on the rim of the bathtub and watched, enjoying the transition from hedge to face.  His eyes kept travelling down the pale body to the scar he’d created, but he tried to make sure Xander didn’t catch him looking.

“How are you?” Xander asked between strokes of the razor.

“Good.  Been worried about you, that’s all.”

“You healed okay?”

“Better than you,” Spike whispered.

Xander stopped what he was doing and turned to Spike.  The old affection was there in his eyes, the love that Spike thought he’d never see again.

“Seems fitting.  That I should bear your scars.  Cut you and I bleed, remember?”

“It’s wrong.  I’m sor…”

“Nuh-uh-uh.  We don’t use that word.  We understand.”  Xander gave Spike a soft smile.  “I do understand.”

Spike smiled back and Xander returned to shaving, accompanying his actions with humming that Spike unconsciously picked up.  When he was rinsed and balmed Xander took Spike’s hand and led him into the bedroom, where they sat on the bed and Spike waited patiently – semi-patiently, trying not to breath – for whatever it was that Xander was building up to.

“Did I get it right?” Xander finally managed.

“Get what right?”

“Do you feel clean?”

There was a barely perceptible tremor in Xander’s voice, and Spike tightened his grip on Xander’s fingers.

“Yes.  Perfectly.  You did that for me, and I love you for it.”

“It was—”

There were no words to describe the horror of it.

“I know, love, but it was worth it.”  Xander swallowed hard, momentarily unable to speak, and Spike moved closer, hugging his partner to him, desperately happy not to be rejected.  “We’ll be able to move on from that now.”

“You still scared of the dark?”

Spike shifted uncomfortably.

“A bit.”

“Not moving on then.”

“Slow process.  We’ll get there.”

“Spike…  I didn’t believe you.  I thought it was in your mind.”

“So did I, a lot of the time.”

“I should have…  I don’t know what I could have done but I’m sorry I didn’t.”

“Yes, you did.  When it really mattered you came through for me.  Again.”

“Did…did Angel tell you what it was?  Inside you?”

“He said it was a lump of metal,” Spike confirmed, adding rapidly, “and I don’t want to know what he didn’t tell me.  Not this time.”

“I should have believed you.”

Spike made shushing noises as he gently turned Xander’s face to him, nuzzling a smooth cheek.

“Mmm, you’re lovely.  So lovely, Xander.”  Xander closed his eyes and lost himself in the sensation as Spike kissed his neck before sucking at the skin, marking Xander as his own.  “So lovely.  So mine.”

Xander abruptly jerked away.  Spike studied him anxiously until Xander blinked and grinned.

“I think you sent me to sleep.”

“That must mean the honeymoon’s over,” Spike observed dryly.

“You just gimme time to get my strength back.”  A massive yawn overtook him.  “God, I’m tired, haven’t I been sleeping?  Just want to change these sheets and go to bed.”

“I can do that.”

“Yeah?  Thanks.”

Xander sat in the tub chair and waited for the bed to be re-made.

“So…” he began nonchalantly, “think you’ll be sleeping with me tonight, or will Angel miss you too much?”

Spike spun to face him, words falling over themselves.

“I was only in there so I wouldn’t disturb you, there is nothing going on that you need to worry about,” Spike insisted.

“I know,” Xander agreed.

“I wasn’t even under…  You—”  Spike took a breath and glowered.  “Git.  You’re a git.”

“Tired git.  Can I…?”  Xander gestured to the bed and Spike stood aside, taking the towel from Xander’s waist as he slid under the covers.  “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Again?”

“What?  Sweetheart?  You really like that?”

“I’ve always liked it, you know that.”

“Sometimes I think you’re humouring me,” Xander told him with another yawn.

On his side of the bedroom Spike dithered.  Unwilling to take too many chances.

“You want me in here with you then?”  Spike managed to make it sound teasing.  If Xander didn’t want him he’d make it into a joke, make throwing Spike out easier on both of them.

“Get in here,” Xander replied without pause for thought.

Spike was naked and beside Xander in seconds, creeping close enough to feel the heat.

“Xander?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?”

“Yes.  Please.”

A few more inches and Spike was skin-to-skin, moaning softly with pleasure and relief as he kissed Xander’s offered mouth, hand spreading over his chest and vibrating with the heartbeat beneath his palm.  He wanted to tell Xander about the rejection, the pain, to thank him for this because he’d started to think he’d never again get to kiss a Xander who wanted to kiss him rather than William.  If he told Xander, then Xander would comfort him, assure him of his love and devotion in words that Spike could cling to when the doubts were at their worst.  But if there was a chance that Angel had been right, that Xander might be lost to his delusions once again if he was reminded of what had occurred, then he’d settle for the unspoken.

But Xander seemed to know.  How did Xander know these things?

“I’ve missed you,” he whispered against Spike’s lips.  “Can’t quite get my head around what’s been going on but I know I’ve missed you.”

“Missed me.”  Spike’s voice was hoarse with suppressed emotion.  “That’s nice.”

Xander pulled Spike closer, settling him on his chest and linking their fingers with one hand, stroking Spike’s hair with the other.

“I love you, Spike.”

“And I love you, more than you know.”  Xander’s breathing began to deepen but Spike had to keep him awake and get this over with.  “Stay with me, love, for a few more minutes.”

“Yeah.  Still here.”

“Do you remember anything at all about the last month?”

“I don’t think so, but maybe it’ll come back.  Or maybe those bastards broke something in my head and I’ll always be losing things.”

“I wrecked your piano.”

That was the alarm call; Spike felt Xander’s heart begin to race.

“You…  Why did you do that?”

“Because I wanted to hurt you.”

“Why?”

“You didn’t know me.”

“But I was sick.”

“I can’t explain.  If you don’t remember, I can’t explain.”

“You wrecked the piano,” Xander repeated with disbelief.

“You said I had to get you a new one and I said I would.”

“So, I knew you’d done it.”

“You forgave me.”

Minutes passed in silence; as Xander’s heartbeat returned to normal, Spike let go of his own tension.

“You don’t have to buy a piano, I can do that.”

“I want to.”

Pause.

“Okay.”

Pause.

“Xan…  When I was clearing the room, I found some scraps of paper with your writing on.  It looked like a song.”

“Yes, I was writing you a song, I remember that.”

“You were?” Spike smiled.  “Sing it for me.”

“Not a chance.”

“Sing me to sleep.”

“You wreck my piano and expect me to sing for you?  With all due respect, Spike, fuck off.”

Spike raised himself on one elbow and fixed a persuasive look on Xander.

“Can I read it?”

“That was the only copy.  If you tore that up, it’s gone.”

“You’ll be able to write it again though,” Spike suggested hopefully.

“I don’t think so.”

“Xander, it was mine, I want it.”

“You’re a bad, bad vampire.”

Xander had used that tone too often in the past when they played, and the association made Spike hard in seconds.  He pounced on Xander’s mouth, kissing him ardently as he began to explore the claimed territory of Xander’s body, growling into the kiss as Xander’s cock began to stir in his hand.  Xander patiently took the hand away and held it to his chest.

“Please, love,” Spike coaxed.  “Can’t I have you in me?”

“You mind if we don’t?  I know I’m not up to it.”  The words were apologetically delivered, and it was obvious that Xander was dozing off.  “Soon, yeah?  When I’m not so tired?”

Spike slumped down beside Xander, sulking, sorry for himself, glad nevertheless that his Xander was back to reject him for the right reasons rather than the wrong.

“It’s me you love, isn’t it?” Spike asked charily.  “This me?”

Xander made an unintelligible yet affectionate noise before sleep took him.  Not enough but…  Xander loved him, Spike knew.

His Xander.

And Xander loved him.

Repossession 87       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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