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Part 88 |
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“Hello, Spike.” “Patrick?” “I don't
want to worry you…” “Which you
immediately have.” “…but have
you heard from Alex?” “I speak
to him every day.” “How does
he seem?” Spike
considered, phone creaking under the stress of the unnerved vampire’s
tightening grip. “Fine. Says he’s fine. Bit quiet maybe, but not a bad quiet. Why?
What’s wrong?” “Nothing
is wrong, per se.” “What
then?” Patrick
paused awkwardly. “Spike… He’s starting to remind me…” He didn't finish the sentence. “What? Remind you of what?” “Of how he
was when I first knew him,” Patrick said guardedly, waiting to see if Spike
picked up on the inference. Spike did,
and the image of those photographs
flashed in his mind. “I'll come
home. Right now.” “Thank
you.” “But you
have the keys to Cedar House? If
anything happens. If you felt… Well, y’know.” “I’d
rather you checked Alex out. Under the
circumstances.” He
knows. He knows about the cutting. He knows that's what Xander is doing. He knows. “I'm
coming home. I'll phone you tomorrow.” Spike
broke the connection and immediately rang home.
Xander didn't pick up and the answering machine was, unusually, switched
off. Next he tried Xander's cell, being
redirected to voicemail. “Xander,
love, it's me. Gimme a ring the minute
you get this message. There's nothing
wrong, just want to talk to you. Call
me, yeah?” Spike
stood staring at his phone for a few minutes, trying to think if there was
anything else he could try. Angel was
watching him keenly from the far side of the room. “You're
not seriously going to drive back now?”
Spike looked at him questioningly.
“You're tired, you haven't had much sleep.” Spike
threw a supremely filthy look in his grand-sire's direction. “And whose
fault is that?” Breaking into a
pace. “I can't believe I… Oh, fuck.
What am I going to do?” “Do you
have to go?” “Of course
I do.” “Because
Patrick…” “Because
something's not right and Xander needs me with him.” Spike sank into a chair and dropped his face
into his hands. “I've been so bloody
homesick and now… Oh, God. Xander…”
Angel came and laid a caring hand on the back of Spike's neck, thumb
inadvertently brushing the scar Xander had made. Spike trembled at the sensation but didn't
shrug the hand away. “I have to
go. I don’t know. I can’t.
What if he finds out?” “If he does… Will he
keep you?” “He’s hard to gauge.” “He loves you.” “Yes. And that could
be his reason for rejecting me.” “Or forgiving you.” ‘I’m not forgiving, forgetting guy any more. Kinda lost that somewhere along the way.’ “I’ve blown it.” ‘I’d forgive you anything. I forgive you.’ Angel’s hand slipped beneath Spike’s chin and
brought his head up. ‘I love you, and
I’ll forgive you anything.’ “Come on, Spike, where’s the old fight? This isn’t like you.” “But I’m not like me anymore, am I? It took minutes to tear apart what it’d taken
over a century to build. I made
Spike. Constructed Spike. Xander walked away and Spike was
demolished. The Initiative ground what
was left to a fine paste. And now I’m
not like me at all. The fact that we can live together proves that. I made a career out of hating you and now…” “Now? You don’t hate
me?” “No.” “Do you love me?” “In an
obligatory way.” Angel
smiled at both the words and the resentment in Spike's voice. “But you
want me to love you.” “I
did. Once. For about five minutes.” “That
isn't even the poor relation of a good lie.” “I don't
have time for this. Patrick thinks
Xander's… Bloody humans, so sodding weak
and… Susceptible. I'll go and…” What?
I'll go and what? If he's cutting
himself he must be pretty desperate and I haven't a clue… “I have to go.” Spike stood and moved swiftly about the apartment,
collecting up the few belongings he had with him, colliding with Angel in the
bedroom doorway as he exited. “Spike… About last
night.” “Last night never happened,” Spike retorted ferociously.
“Nobody finds out about last night. If
you feel the need to confess all to your precious slayer try remembering all
the bloody nonsense you’ve been filling my thick head with and shut the fuck
up. If you care about me as much as you
said…” “You know what I said was true.” “Okay. Okay, what you
said was true. So you can’t tell
Buffy. You can’t tell anyone.” “I give you my word.” “It better be good.
Because if Xander finds out I swear I will be back to tear your head
off. Now, get out of my way.” Angel stood aside and watched his fractious grand-childe
find his duster and slide into it,
checking the pockets several times for pen and photo in the manner once used to
check for cigarettes and lighter. “What are you going to do about Xander?” “What do you think I’m going to do? I’m going to lie through my teeth. Or…
Lie of omission, that’s the way.”
Angel accepted that with a slow nod.
“I won’t be back. The only chance
I’ve got of hanging onto him now is to lie well and never come back here. If I can convince myself that not telling him
is for his own good I should get away with it.” “You will come back.
You need me.” “I need Xander more.” “He can’t…” “Then I’ll fucking live with it! Without it.
With it. Jesus wept, you do my
fucking brain in!” “Spike…” “I’ll never find peace, will I? I know everything has a price but what if
you’ve cost me Xander? Fuck! Gotta get out of here.” “Spike…” So quiet,
conciliatory, Spike had to listen. “I’ll
be sorry to lose you.” “You never had me, not really, not truly. Not since Angelus.” Spike stopped and took a deep breath. “What if he finds out? What if he knows? Sometimes Xander just…knows. What will I do?” Questions without answers. Angel shrugged, watched Spike heading for the
door out. “I am so fucking stupid. I
have never known anyone quite like me: this capacity I have for screwing up
every decent thing I'm ever presented with.” “Spike.” “What? I have to go.” “There will always be a place for you here.” Spike looked thoroughly exasperated but crossed the floor to
where his grand-sire stood in less than a second. He roughly put a hand behind the older vampire’s
neck and pulled him close, brutally kissing his cheek… “Fuck you, Angel.” …before leaving. … Spike sat in the Jag, taking five minutes out to calm down
before the drive, trying not to think about the mess he was in, concentrating
on Xander, on Xander needing him. He hadn’t suspected anything was wrong, other than Xander
being lonely for him, and however much he hoped that Patrick was mistaken about
the cutting, what chance was there of that?
Realistically? Remembering he
hadn’t had a private moment to listen to the latest CD that Xander had mailed
to him, Spike dug around in his holdall and yanked the envelope out, ripping it
open and feeding the disc into the player.
Xander had got into the habit of recording a song a day and sending it
to Spike, usually pure schmaltz but sometimes there were clues to the sender’s
state of mind. The song played. ‘Every time I think
of you, I always catch my breath. Not so much clues as a fucking massive statement of
loss. Spike leant his head against the
steering wheel and groaned. ‘I hear your name in
certain circles, and it always makes me smile. ‘I ain't missing you
at all, since you've been gone away. “Why didn’t you talk to me, Xander? Just a word, you fucking idiot!” ‘…You don't know how
desperate I've become, Spike stabbed at the CD player with an impatient finger
until the disc was ejected. He grabbed
it and threw it into the back seat. “Have no meaning, my arse!
You’re everything!” And so the tirade continued until Spike hit the freeway,
foot to the floor, desperate and frightened to get home. … Entering the house
through the garage, Spike heard music blaring in the living room and headed in
that direction; much as he had expected, the scent of Xander’s blood was in the
atmosphere, but gratefully it was old blood: no letting today. In fact, the air of doom and gloom he was
expecting hadn’t materialised, and he forced himself to be calm and stay calm. Spike paused in the
doorway, studying the man sprawled on the sofa, eyes closed and oblivious to
company, contentedly singing along with Michael Stipe. Goatee. Alex?
He looked healthy, happy, relaxed, thankfully nothing like the image
Spike had built in his mind. Waiting patiently,
Spike knew that Xander would soon feel him there in the same way he did when
Spike tried to watch him sleep. Too
aware. Going to scare the life out of him, Spike thought placidly. Waiting.
As Xander gradually stopped singing, a frown slowly forming. Eyes opened and he leapt up with a ungainly
squeak, hand clutched over his heart. “Jesus Christ!” “Not even close.” “Scared the life out
of me.” Spike smiled and Xander took a
couple of deep breaths, pointing the remote at the music system and plunging
them into silence. “What are you doing
here?” “I think I might
live here.” “Stupid
question. Sorry.” Spike raised an eyebrow at that. “Sorry,” Xander repeated defiantly. Expression softening for, “Welcome
home.” Belatedly adding, “Spike,” like
he couldn’t quite believe the vampire was standing before him. They stared at one
another across the room, both inexplicably wary of the first step. “Why now?” “Why now what?” “Home.” “That last song you
sent me,” Spike lied, keeping Patrick tidily out of the equation. “I thought I should be here if you were
feeling that bad.” “For a while. Low point.” “Okay now?” Xander gestured at
Spike as if he were the answer to that.
They went back to staring. “I have to go out
tonight,” Xander eventually said.
“Soon. The Partnership helps fund
a local festival and we’re all going.
Shakespeare In The Park.” He
paused, regretting. “I have to go.” “Shakespeare,
eh? I don’t mind Shakespeare.” “Really?” Xander
perked up. “You want to come along? I’d love you to, I just… It’s in the park. Obviously.
A tent. Big heated tent.” “Marquee, even?” “You want to come
along? With me?” Spike tilted his
head, assessing the situation, smirk breaking out. “Are you asking me
on a date?” “Uh…” The best smile broke through the worry. “Yeah.
How about it? You don’t have to.” “Maybe I want
to. Maybe I’d put up with more than
Shakespeare to spend the evening with you.” “Family?” Xander
asked cautiously. “We have a good
family.” More relief than
Spike would have expected at that. Xander
covered his reaction with a look at his watch. “Have to go
soon. Really soon.” He started for the
door, and as Spike was in the way it meant he headed for Spike too. Spike stopped him with a side-step that
blocked his route, raising a hand and brushing his fingertips over the goatee. “I’m going out with
Alex?” “Alex? No!
No, this is Xander until the novelty wears off. The novelty of the goatee, not of
Xander. Xander, I promise. No moving on here.” “Good look on
you. Very…dashing.” “Dashing,” Xander
repeated with a huge grin. “You trying
to score?” “Without a
doubt. How am I doing?” Xander gave a short laugh and walked off into
the hall to fetch his keys. Spike
drifted after him; the casually dressed view was equally fine from the rear. “Bloody hell, Xander, you look a treat.” Xander refused to be
sidetracked. “Ready to go?” “Want me to change?” “Up to you.” “I’m a bit scruffy.” Now it was Xander’s
turn to do the looking. He studied
Spike, two-tone hair to booted toes, via a tired black t-shirt and equally worn
jeans. It was a lingering look. They both felt its effect. Spike took a step forward, a step back, hands
that wanted to touch twitching at his sides. “You’ll do,” Xander
told him softly. Another step
forward. “Can I…” Xander waited. Spike gave a sharp, humourless laugh. “I want to kiss you and I have to ask. How fucking pathetic am I?” “You don’t have to
ask,” Xander told him, voice like velvet, and Spike wanted to hear words of
pornographic love in that tone. “To kiss you. And if I want to touch you? Because I do want to touch you.” Spike began a slow, slow walk to Xander. “I’ve missed you. Missed the way you look at me as if I’m
everything. Missed the way you say my
name, any of the hundred ways you have of saying it. Missed your mouth: smiles, words,
kisses. More. Oh, yeah, missed your mouth.” Spike focused on that mouth now: the lips
were parted, Xander breathing rapidly.
Spike swallowed hard. “Missed
your body. Missed my hands on you. My hands on you and I’m home. Missed your body, Xander. You in me and I’m home.” A last step and they were only inches apart. Spike’s hand rose to caress Xander’s face,
fingertips gliding over brows, cheekbones, lips, jaw. “Home.”
Xander leant in fractionally, closing his eyes as Spike reciprocated,
mouths almost touching. “I love
you. I love you, Xander.” The gap was closed;
their lips met in the most delicate of kisses. “We have to go,”
Xander insisted breathlessly. Spike
forced himself to take a step back.
Tricky when Xander’s eyes were dark with desire and pheromones were
pouring from his body in an alluring flood.
Spike turned his back on temptation and wandered away, trying to think
calming thoughts. “Talk to me,
love. Change the subject before I throw
you over my shoulder and carry you off to have my very wicked way with you.” “Umm… Yeah, this thing tonight. I’ve managed to avoid going before. Am I even going to understand it? I didn’t in school, y’know, reading it. Is it easier when it’s acted, will I get it?” “Course you
will. If it’s done well. Shakespeare’s about as plain as mud if it’s
done badly, but… Which one is it?” “A Midsummer Night’s
Dream.” “Lightweight; you’ll
get it.” “If I don’t, try not
to let me make a fool of myself.” “Come off it, love,
you’re not exactly daft, you’ll… I won’t
let you make a fool of yourself. Tip: if
any of the actors come to talk to you and you don’t know what to say to them,
just ask how they felt about their performance and be prepared to listen for a
long time.” “Okay.” Spike looked at
Xander, trying to figure him out. “Not really worried
are you?” “A bit. I went through school being told I was dumb,
never made it to…” “You’re a clever
man, Xander. You’ve proved that.” “If you want to talk
structural integrity. Buildings or USS
Enterprise, any designation, any episode, any season, and that’s so going to
help.” “Are we
together? Tonight.” Xander stalled
momentarily at the unexpected right turn. “Together?” “Are we an item,
just good friends, colleagues?” “Together, totally
together. Hate-inducing-thuggery brand
together. Why?” “That way it’ll be
no problem you sticking to me like glue while I talk Shakespeare and you nod
sagely.” A grin broke out on Spike’s
face. “Do we get to publicly hold
hands?” “You want to? I mean that’s like me screaming from
the rooftops about us. Just whispering
almost got me killed.” Spike’s cheeky
grin never faltered as he waited. “Yes,
Okay. Okay, if you want to,” Xander said, catching the vampire’s irrepressible good
humour. “I want to.” The grin became a laugh. “We’ll be perfectly safe. Sort of audience this’ll attract will be all
society matrons doing their bit for culture.
They won’t be putting up any kind of fight ‘cause they’ll be too busy dropping
away in a dead faint at the outrageous behaviour of that poof from the
Partnership and his bit of fluff.” “I’d enjoy having
someone say that to your face and discovering you’re about as fluffy as a rabid
wolf.” “D’know about
that. I’ll roll onto my back if you’ll
rub something for me.” Xander glazed over
for a few seconds before shaking himself back into the committed here and now. “We have to go
now. While we can.” “While we’re
dressed.” “That’d be it.” … It was an
interesting experience, being a part of the company that had pushed many
thousands of dollars sponsorship in the festival’s direction. Along with the rest of the family, Xander and
Spike were treated like royalty, and it was difficult for Spike to have any
kind of private, meaningful reunion with Patrick and the others, something he
felt he needed, and not just for Xander’s sake.
But he was accepted with friendly hugs and felt himself falling into the
pattern of this life as if he’d never been away. Feeling a part of, rather than an extension
to. The imagined
irreparable relationship with Jake was unquestionably confirmed as
imagined. The young man took the
opportunity to side with Spike and back off from the more intensive meet and
greet session, choosing to keep his fondly acknowledged brother-in-law company
rather than the local dignitaries, and literally hiding behind Spike in
self-defence. Xander wasn’t quite so
fortunate and was marched off to his fate. “I feel
under-dressed and over-exposed,” he whispered to Spike before resigning himself
to an embarrassing photo opportunity for the local newspaper. “I should be so
lucky,” Spike responded, with a lack of sympathy worthy of Big Bad himself. Left to their own
devices, Spike and Jake wandered to the raised platform near the rear of the
marquee; this hosted a bar and a small seating area. Payment for their drinks was waved aside and
they settled on a couple of stools in an area that could almost be described as
quieter. “Who’s the girl?”
Spike asked, nodding in the direction of an animated young woman who kept
appearing for a few words with Jake before disappearing as quickly. “Someone we work
with.” “The latest
interchangeable?” “Possibly,” Jake
sighed, spirits visibly sinking. “If I
let it go any further. But I don’t think
I will.” “Too difficult at
work?” “Yes. When it’s over.” “It won’t last?” Jake shook his head. “You know how lucky
you are?” For a second Spike
wondered if Jake was taking a shot, but his expression said no. “I do know. But Xander was the end to a line of
disasters. And even he left me first
time around.” “But not because he
didn’t want you, or because it wasn’t going to work.” “He tell you
that?” Jake gave a non-committal
shrug. “Why did he go then?” Jake took in Spike,
a cool appraising look. “You’re good with
intensity. He isn’t. Or wasn’t.
He’s had to grow into you.” “He said that?” Another shrug and Spike knew that was all he
was going to get. Spike sipped his
beer. “You know so much that you
shouldn’t know,” he observed casually, letting Jake take that any way he chose. A typical
switchblade turnaround and Jake threw him a smile, held up his glass. “To ignorance.” Spike clinked his
glass against Jake’s. “To ignorance. And Shakespeare’s latest poster boy,” he
added, noticing Xander’s pleading look in their direction. “Want to bail him out?” “‘A very gentle
beast, and of a good conscience,’” Jake quoted with a chuckle. “I think Alex has this covered.” … In the interval they
went to the bar; Xander stood looking out over the auditorium and stage as
Spike fetched a couple of beers. Spike
gave Xander his drink, stayed close behind him, chest to back, lips to
ear. He spoke confidentially and with a
deceptive evenness. “It’s strangely
distracting tonight: the fact that I know what you look like under your
clothes. I know exactly how enticing you
are. I know I’d rather be dust than
never touch your naked body again.”
Xander’s head began to turn. “No,
don’t look at me, look at them.” There
was the merest hint of laughter in Spike’s voice. “Your subjects.” “The ones that don’t
want to beat me to a pulp.” “There are people
here who will wonder about us together, imagine us. Naked together. Wonder what we do, how we fit. That’s distracting too: knowing how we
fit. And the people who are taking sly
glances and building a fantasy for later may wonder, but they’ll never
know. I know and I’m distracted. Been without you for too long and I’m hoping
you won’t turn me away later. Hoping
you’ll welcome me back into your bed so we can do things these people couldn’t
begin to…” “Stop it,” Xander
insisted, quietly unconvincing. “What’s the matter,
love? Getting distracted too?” “Drink your beer,
second half’s going to start soon.” “Would you like me
to kiss you? Here? Now?
Give ‘em a hint of what they’re missing?” Xander sipped at his drink, refusing to
acknowledge that the hand holding the glass wasn’t as steady as it might have
been. “Will I be missing it too later?” “Why should I turn
you away?” “Just a feeling I
have.” “Don’t have
it.” Spike felt the warmth as Xander
relaxed back against him, and his arm slid under Xander’s sweater and around
his waist, fingers stroking the skin inside the waistband of his jeans. “I’ve missed you too, Spike.” “Not just sex.” “No.” “If they’re still
taking sly glances…” Spike murmured as Xander scanned the crowd, sure they were
ignored but feeling exposed and vulnerable and not caring a whit. “…people will see us and know this is love. It’s absolute. That’s distracting. Because if they see the love they’re seeing
us as naked as we can be.” “Let them see,”
Xander replied as softly. “It is
absolute.” “I want to go home.” “Me too.” “Can we?” “No.” “You could have me
here. I’m slicked and ready. Thought there was a chance it’d be like last
time when you had me over the desk. If
you can think of somewhere we can go…?” “Stop it, Spike.” “Somewhere private
enough to stop you being shy about sticking your cock in me. Me, I’d have you here, right in front of your
captive audience. You’d fuck me hard and
I’d come all over their outraged faces.” Xander eased himself away, trying not to look, listen or
acknowledge the existence of his lover for a few minutes, just on the
off-chance that he wouldn’t be embarrassingly hard when they had to pass
through the crowd to return to their seats.
He concentrated on the flavour of the beer and the plot of the play and
worried about what Spike would say when, later, he saw the body he found so distracting. Spike’s attention was, however, intently on his lover,
assessing and attempting to interpret every nuance of the human’s
behaviour. Xander seemed relaxed and
contented. But maybe that was the point
of the cutting: the act gave him what he needed and kept him relaxed and
contented. Mind jumping back to X’s
sliced into his own body, Spike could almost understand. The first bell rang for the next act and they left the bar,
fingers linked as they unhurriedly made their way to their seats, stopping for
a few hellos or introductions. Despite
the occasional panicked squeeze from Xander, his hand never withdrew, and the
satisfaction of this defiance was plain on Spike’s features. He knew he was blowing enigmatic artist in
favour of smug git, but he felt smug, and in a huge way. When was the last time he was proudly,
publicly accepted by the person he was with? Second bell and they took their seats, considerately placed
so they were tucked into the centre of the family and their most trusted
friends. Xander settled, chatting to
Beth, unconsciously pulling Spike’s hand onto his lap and taking a firmer hold,
as naturally as he would during an evening in the privacy of their living
room. As the lights dimmed he turned to
Spike, closing in for a quick kiss, giving Spike permission for further
liberties; Spike wriggled around in his seat, leaning against Xander and giving
a satisfied sigh as a warm arm wrapped itself around his shoulders. … Later, play over, pleasantries exchanged, congratulations
proffered, they strolled back to their cars in a ragged group. “I understood it all,” Xander was telling Spike for the
twentieth time. “But did you enjoy it?” “Yeah, I think so.
I’ll come again next year.” “What are they doing next year? I suppose it’s too much to hope for Titus
Andronicus.” “I’ll get that reference one day, and… What?
Kick your ass or find it incredibly romantic?” “Arse.” “Figures.” “‘I pray thee, do on them some violent death,’” Patrick
quoted behind them. “‘They have been
violent to me and mine.’” Xander laughed at the implied content of the play and
groaned when told of the two sons baked in a pie for their mother’s
consumption. Spike had fallen abruptly
silent, feeling Patrick’s words as a command and a blessing. He glanced over his shoulder, met Patrick’s
coolly expectant gaze that warmed at the onset of a smile, a knowing
smile. Spike returned it; they
understood one another rather well. Cora caught up with them and called them to a halt. “Finished chatting up the cast?” Spike teased. “I was merely being polite,” she insisted lightly. “Yeah, I saw you eyeing up the blokes in hose, you’re not
fooling anyone.” “Oh, Spike, as if I’d be unfaithful to you,” Cora teased
right back, and the vampire preened.
“Now, boys, together for a picture.” Spike felt Xander start in alarm. “Hey, is that a new camera?
Let me see?” “Hands off, young man.
And don’t fret, it’s digital.” Okay, the woman had just firmly stated something, but no-one was going to call her on it. Xander took both their coats, threw them over
the handrail where Cora was posing them, turned back to meet a searching look
from Spike. “Totally together,” Xander softly repeated his words from
earlier in the evening, moving to Spike, arm outstretched, letting Spike fit to
him as if he’d always belonged just there at his side. “This may take a moment,” Cora told them as she fiddled with
the camera. “Favourite quote?” Xander asked Beth as she moved beside
Cora to follow the proceedings. She answered without hesitation: “‘My best chosen friend, companion, guide, to walk through
life, Xander sighed happily at that, and Spike chuckled. “You’re so bloody soft.” “You like me bloody soft.
Most of me, anyhow.” Spike pressed his mouth to Xander’s ear. “‘How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways.’” The
opening line of Xander’s favourite poem from the anthology he’d bought
William. Spike was rewarded with a
shiver he felt go through Xander’s entire body. “‘Destiny is what
you are supposed to do in life. Fate is
what kicks you in the ass to do it.’”
That quote was from Patrick – appropriately, Spike thought. “Smile, boys,” Cora called, and they did, at the
photographer and at Jake who was distractingly bouncing around behind her. “Again.
Pay attention, Alex.” “Hey, Mom, tell Jay,” Xander whined. “‘I like my beer cold, my TV loud, and my homosexuals
fa-laaaaming,’” Jake quoted as per Homer Simpson and Xander blew him kisses. Another few pictures and they changed around and around
until everyone was taken in various couples and groupings. “Can I have copies of the photos with Spike?” Xander
asked. “We don’t have many of us
together.” “Not dressed, anyway,” Spike added with a grin. “Yeah, you mentioned the gay porn screensaver,” said Jake. “You have a gay porn screensaver?” Moira wanted to know,
having caught the end of the conversation. “They are the gay
porn screensaver.” “Then…” Moira considered, “it would be tactless to ask for a
copy, wouldn’t it?” Xander caught the wicked gleam in Spike’s eye. “No,” Xander said firmly, and the wickedness melted into
innocence. “No,” Spike confirmed with a lazy smile and a glance that
flicked over Xander, pausing momentarily on pertinent body parts. As soon as he had sufficiently roused
Xander’s interest he grabbed his coat, threw an arm around Moira’s shoulders,
and walked off with her, discussing the procurement of a slightly less personal
screensaver from the internet. Cora accepted Xander’s offer of an arm and they followed,
looking through the photos on the camera’s tiny screen. “That one. I’d really
like that one.” “You make a very handsome couple,” Cora told him with the
proud smile that Xander wasn’t sure he’d ever be immune to. “Did I ever say thank you?
For being so…accepting.” “I’d be disappointed if you felt you had to.” Xander drew her closer. “You didn’t tell me your quote.” “Well, I’ve been thinking about that.” Cora cleared her throat and articulated
perfectly, “‘In any moment of decision the best thing you can do is the right
thing, the next best thing is the wrong thing, and the worst thing you can do
is nothing.’” “That’s…pretty cool.” “Theodore
Roosevelt.” Xander repeated it to himself and gave a sad smile. “Wish someone had told me that seven years ago.” … “There was a line in there that could’ve been written for
us,” Xander said as soon as he and Spike were within the privacy of the Merc. “Let me guess,” Spike ventured. “‘The
lunatic, the lover, and the poet.’” “Yeah,” Xander
agreed excitedly. “You catch that too?” “Which one do you
want to be? Lunatic or lover?” “I thought we could
take turns.” Spike slapped his
hand onto Xander’s thigh and squeezed.
Xander grabbed at the hand and held onto it as he drove, quiet for once
but sending off wafts of pheromones that Spike couldn’t help but ask after. “What are you thinking about?” “The way the muscles in your stomach bunch up when you
come.” “What are you thinking about?” “That thing you do when you rest my dick on your bottom lip
and bring me off and I see my come shooting into your mouth.” “What are you thinking about?” “Watching while you jerked off in the mirror for the first
time.” “Is there anything you think about that doesn’t involve an
orgasm?” “Very little.” “What are you thinking about?” “Getting you home.
Before you start to think I’m losing my touch, that does involve an
orgasm. Or several.” … Blood, coffee,
snacking and superficial catching up dealt with, they kissed their way to the
bedroom with growing fervour. “Strip for me, love,
let me watch you,” Spike urged, and he felt the moment when Xander suddenly
remembered. He smelt the fear. “Spike, I…” “Just do it,” Spike
insisted, firmly but kindly. “You… You know.” “Go on.” It was a hell of a
moment as Xander drew together the courage that allowed him to undress in front
of his partner, exposing half-healed cuts on his arms and thighs. “I didn’t want you to see,” he confessed in a trembling
voice. “I didn’t want you to know.” Spike quickly discarded his own clothes and went to Xander,
exceedingly tender as he kissed the damage, licking the wounds to help with the
healing, shifting to his true face and using his fangs to open certain areas
and give them cleaner edges that would heal without a blemish. With human features, and on his knees, he pressed his mouth
to the scar on Xander’s stomach that he could do nothing to lessen. “‘How do I love thee?
Let me count the ways,’” he said against the uneven skin, hearing and
feeling the intake of breath, hoping Xander would say the line that he,
soulless creature that he was, couldn’t. “‘I love thee to the depth and breadth and height my soul can reach…’” Xander obliged. “‘…when feeling out
of sight, for the ends of Being and ideal Grace. Xander was staring at him with the strangest
expression. An uneasy mix of love and
shame and lust and regret. “I’m sorry.” “Don’t, love,” Spike told him sincerely, rising and kissing
him with the gentleness of adoration and absolution. “I’ll never do it again.” “You don’t have to promise that.” “I got past it once, I’ll do it again.” “You don’t have to answer to me.” “But…” “I understand, love.
About being desperate. About
doing something that you wouldn’t if you were in your right mind. We all get crazy, do stupid things. It’s forgivable though. Isn’t it?” “I’d stopped for years, I don’t need it. I’ll stop.” “Stop for you then, not for me.” “What for you? If
that’s for me, what’s for you?” Spike thought. It was
obvious. “Want me, Xander.
Want me.” Desire flared and contrition was readily abandoned, engulfed
by what Spike wanted; Xander tugged Spike close, kissed him hard, touched him
hard. “I do want you,” Xander insisted. “Can I have you?” “Xander…” Xander’s teeth scraped his claim mark and Spike
involuntarily bucked against him. “You are so fucking sexy, Spike, want you all night.” “Who do you love?” Xander stopped and looked at Spike as if he were insane. “You.” A grin broke
through the confusion. “You. Only you.
I’m in love with you, Spike, in love with you only, forever.” Spike’s head dropped onto a broad shoulder;
Xander stroked the back of his neck and listened to the harsh breaths as Spike
tried to find some emotional control. “What’s
wrong, sweetheart? Did I fuck up when I
was ill, ‘cause I don’t remember, but I’ve had this bad feeling…” “William’s gone,” Spike blurted out, tensely waiting for the
mourning to begin again. “No,” Xander told him, voice full of indulgence. “He’s in you, he can’t go.” “You’ll never see him again.” “I see him in you all the time, Spike. And even if it were possible, he’d never
abandon you.” Spike’s head came up; he met Xander’s concerned eyes. “You made us whole, Xander.
You put us back together.” “Whole?” Nod. “Not…split anymore?” Shake.
“Whole?” Nod. Xander gave Spike a bone-creaking hug. “That’s wonderful, that’s what we
wanted. How do you feel?” “Good.” “Oh, baby, I wish I could remember, it must have been
extraordinary.” “It was simple really.” “What did it? You
said I made you whole? How did I do that?” “You…loved me.” “That must’ve been some pretty potent lovin’.” “It was.” “Spike…?” Xander
released the vampire, put a finger under his chin and brought his face up. “Has something gone wrong? Shouldn’t you be happier? Or happy?
Happy at all would be a start.” “Who do you love?” Xander stared into the glistening blue eyes. “What happened?” “Who do you love?” “I… I love you both,
you know that. Not both, all, can’t leave out scary demon
guy.” Xander took Spike’s head in his
hands, holding it perfectly still as they held the gaze. “I’m in love with you. It was always you, since Sunnydale, since
before I knew about William. In love with no-one but you. My Spike.
My Spike,” and Xander could no
longer resist, plundering the vampire’s mouth, fucking it with his tongue,
feeling Spike respond and laughing with the lightness of joy. “My Spike; whole Spike; big, bad Spike,” he
murmured against lips that kept moving, kissing. “Wanna fuck with me? Huh?
Big Bad wanna fuck with me?” A
hot hand wrapped around their rigid cocks and began a slow stroke. “Love you, Spike.” “Love you, Xander,” Spike gasped, believing because Xander
believed so adamantly, accepting, letting the fear go. “Always love you. Only you.” “Gonna prove it to you.
I’ll make love to you. Show
you.” Xander’s mouth tightened over his
claimant’s mark; a gasp, tremble, and Xander felt Spike’s cock swell, spurting
thick gouts of lukewarm semen between them.
“Mmm, like that, like to feel that.”
Another suck on the scar and Spike collapsed against Xander. “First of many, sweetheart. We’re good.
We’re so good.”
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