Xander tried not to think, there’d been far too much of that yesterday.  Thinking had led to no Spike.  They’d spent the night in separate bedrooms, and that made things better how?  Xander hated being alone, so which of them was he punishing?  No contact first thing, no Spike waking to share breakfast, no goodbye kisses and cuddles, no softly spoken encouragement to keep safe that he could roll his eyes at.

Of course he hadn’t known that Spike wasn’t even in the house, that he had actually spent the night on a demonic killing spree, purging his system of the tension that had built to an unbearable level.  The Merc had been left on the drive the previous day so Xander didn’t notice the Jag was gone from the garage.  In fact Xander didn’t notice much at all until he walked into his office and wondered why the blinds were all closed and the lamps were switched on.

The vampire lounging in the meet and greet area supplied the answer.  Spike rose and they spent a few seconds caught in a silent impasse, the spectre of Angel wafting between them.

“What are you doing here?” Xander finally asked as he turned his back and moved to the desk.

“I want the truth.”

“Yeah, right, we all want the truth,” Xander responded with heavy sarcasm.

“This is important.”

“More than us?”

“No.  No contest there.”

At a derisive snort from Xander, Spike sank back onto the sofa, rubbing his face wearily.  Xander glanced, then looked.

“Couldn’t you sleep?”

“Had a few things on my mind.”

“Like what?  Like how you fucked up when you thought you were playing us both so well?”

“Come and sit down and I’ll tell you.”

Xander considered that, and for a brief moment also considered throwing Spike out, but the defeated expression on the vampire’s face drew him.  He sat.  Spike took his time, deep in thought.

“Well?  I have work to do.”

Spike threw a disappointed look in Xander’s direction.

“Work.  Think it’s time you reviewed your priorities?”

“No.  I’ll need this when you’re gone.”

“I’m not—”  Spike bit back the protestation.  Took more time.  And now Xander waited silently if not patiently.  “I’ve never got over the fear, Xander,” Spike confessed quietly after ten minutes of thoughtful nothing.  “Darkness.  Being alone.  The quiet, that…solid quiet.  Noises that break the quiet.  Humans.  Thought of coming face-to-face with someone in a white coat or a uniform…”  He paused, controlled the breathing that had come about involuntarily at the memories.  “I have an overwhelming need for those I consider my protectors.  I hate saying this.  Hate it.”

“I’m sorry,” Xander told him with quiet sincerity.

“Me too.  For having to ask about Angel, for having to know.  I don’t want to risk making you madder at me, because…  Well, it’s bloody obvious, I just don’t.”

“So, ask me.”

“I don’t want you misconstruing one need for another.  Don’t want you thinking…what you’re thinking.”

“Ask me.”

“I don’t even want you knowing I’ve been trying to get him on the phone every hour since you said what you did, but you must know that because you know me, and I can’t get him, find him, so…”

“Ask me.”

“Too hard.  Too bloody hard.”

Spike looked to Xander, desperately searching the human’s poker face for a clue, unaware of how much fear, pain and humiliation showed on his own features.  All about Angel.  Fucking Angel.  A fresh burst of fury and Xander had to back off before he did some damage to his partner; he stood, crossed to his desk, and stiltedly began removing papers from his briefcase.  “Go home, Spike, get some sleep.”

“Xander…”

“Go home,” Xander ordered, seeing Spike fight to control his indignation at the tone of voice used.  “We’ll talk later.  About us, not him.”

“Must we?”

“Oh, yeah.  You can’t fu—”  Xander’s voice seized up on him.  He cleared his throat.  “I’ll see you at home.”  Spike nodded grimly and walked slowly to the door, shoulders drooping, head down.  Trying to be strong, but a pang of doubt betrayed Xander.  “If you’re there.”

Spike irritably swung back.

“I’m not going to leave you.”

“Yeah?  Well, I remember you saying you weren’t going to fuck Angel.  Makes your promises kinda worthless.”

“I haven’t…”

“Leave it, Spike.  I’ve taken some real shit from you, and I haven’t held it against you at all because I’ve believed you couldn’t help it.  This you can help.”  Spike’s expression became infuriatingly unreadable.  The imagined defence of Angel was more than Xander could bear, and his voice shook as he spoke.  “Hey, tell you what, let me make one last decision for you, ‘cause I’m so not into playful anticipation right now.  Like I always said, you get to keep the car and the money, cause I’m damn sure you’d miss them more than me.  Just…go home and pack and get the fuck out of my life.”

They glared, fumed, hurt.  Then Spike made his customary, leather-flapping exit, leaving Xander to flop weakly into his chair and lay his head on the desk.  Scared for more than the obvious reasons: he now had absolutely no idea of what, if anything, he had done to Angel – he barely recalled what he had told Spike the previous evening.  He kept forgetting that he had forgotten, and it was only a sudden flash of jealousy and bitterness caused by Spike’s unexpected presence that had jogged his memory during this encounter, otherwise…

It was a fucking disaster, and all that was left was thinking.  Thinking.  Thinking.

…

Hardly the subtlest message Spike had ever received from his partner: Xander chose to unwind in the pool but before diving in he had opened all the shutters in the conservatory and the light was pouring in, precluding Spike from the area.

From the house he watched Xander swim, getting hornier with every lap.  So graceful in the water, his lover; so tempting, wet body gleaming.  Spike watched and wanted, letting his hand glide insubstantially over his growing erection, knowing he had to have Xander and soon.  It wouldn’t be the first time they’d fucked some comfort into one another, and maybe if Spike heaped attention on Xander these ideas about him and Angel would fade to nothing before serious – no, too late for that – before permanent damage was done.

And as for Angel…  Spike didn’t let himself go there.  Too frightening.  Too dangerous.  Now was the time to focus on the fact that Xander was all.

Xander.  Exhausted – more than that: shattered – too preoccupied to be any use at work, was home early afternoon.  Distraught, fearing Spike’s presence as much as his absence; the moment he’d come face-to-face with his lover on his arrival he knew he needed a little time alone to try and get his raging emotions under control.  Now he loosened his clenched and aching muscles with lap after lap in the pool, all the while trying not to think.  The ‘Angel’ - the horribly necessary reminder – written thickly in biro on the palm of his left hand faded in the water, but wasn’t completely washed away.  Too much thinking.  Too, too much thinking.

He was being watched, he could feel it, feel Spike.  Spike.  Spike.  He tried not to think.  Then he thought of not thinking.  Finally he thought of a single point of nothing, and that almost worked.

The blank mind Xander had grimly manufactured in the pool lasted as far as the kitchen; Spike knew his habits, knew he’d get out of the water, quick shower, then head for the fridge and a drink.  The vampire was leant against the counter, pretty as an pornographic picture, naked and hard and already gazing at Xander with unbridled lasciviousness.

“Did you enjoy that?” Spike asked sweetly.  “Without me?”

“I needed some light, that was all,” Xander answered briskly, taking the long route to the fridge to avoid contact.

It didn’t work; Spike was on him in seconds, loosening his robe, exposing and exploring the damp body beneath.

“Want you,” Spike growled into Xander’s ear, “want you to fuck me.”  A cold hand surrounded Xander’s cock and squeezed.  “Like the sound of that?  Want to take me?”

“No.”

“Liar,” with another squeeze, and Xander was damning his body for responding so easily and, yes, he wanted Spike, every inch of him but his mind wanted Spike.

“Not here,” he tried as an excuse to escape.

“Yes, here,” because the excuse was worthless.

Spike finally made contact with Xander’s mouth, kissing him teasingly, playing with lips and tongue, sucking and nibbling and knowing that Xander couldn’t resist this, couldn’t resist him for long, however angry he was, and right now Xander was practically vibrating with suppressed rage.  A groan of defeat, and Xander kissed him back, hard, hands coming up to cup the back of Spike’s skull, fingers tangling in the darkly-rooted waves and grasping painfully.  Spike’s head was jerked aside by Xander’s fistful of hair, and his mouth descended on the exposed neck, teeth scraping and grazing.

“Yes, love,” Spike cajoled, “that’s right, you have me, you take me.”

“I don’t want you, I don’t want to want you, after…”

The thought of Spike’s infidelity and Xander was screaming inside, teetering on the brink of losing control and hurting Spike, resisting the urge because if he started hitting Spike he wasn’t sure he’d be able to stop himself before his lover was cowed and bleeding.

“Have me, Xander.”

Xander flung Spike against the kitchen table, grabbing oil from the cupboard and quickly swiping a handful over his cock, bending Spike forward and pressing against him.  No worries about him being too tight, Xander was sure Angel had…  With a roar that was more agony than anger, Xander drove forward, breaking into Spike’s body and feeling a shudder ripple through the flesh beneath his hands.  Spike scrabbled against the wooden surface, trying to turn, gasping in shock as Xander slammed him back down onto his face.  Everything stopped at the sound of Spike’s fear.

“Is this it?  Is this your punishment for me?” Spike’s voice trembled.  “It’s cruel enough.”

“What?”

“I can’t see you.”

“Isn’t that better for you?” Xander spat.  “This way you can imagine it’s whoever you want it to be.”

“You.  And I can’t see you.”

One moment the rage was all, the next it was gone.  Spike’s anguish was an even more terrible thing, and Xander gently withdrew and pulled the vampire up and around.  The moment Spike looked into Xander’s face the anxiety evaporated and he took a deep breath, releasing it slowly.

“I’m sorry,” Xander muttered, still unable to hold his partner but not wanting this, not wanting those old fears.

Spike merely eased himself onto the table, safely on his back this time, offering himself to Xander.

“Make it better.  My Xander.  My love.”

Xander did as he was asked, without any real thought, stepping close and easing into Spike’s body, aware of a heavy slickness but choosing not to recognise the sensation of fucking in the blood of that first brutal penetration.

“Okay?” Xander asked flatly, refusing to meet Spike’s eyes.

“I can see you and you’re beautiful.”

Xander shook his head and began to move, very gently, wondering what the hell he was doing and why this, why now, and why was his body functioning when his heart felt like it was shredded.

“Fuck me,” Spike urged.  Xander’s pace didn’t alter.  “Like before, Xander, please.”

Xander resisted the pressure from Spike’s heels against his back, urging him on.

“There are so many befores, Spike, you’ll have to…”

“When you claimed me.  Truly claimed me.”

“You mean…?”  Xander stopped moving.  “With the blood, with the pain?”

Spike ground back against the solid body.

“Claim me,” he coaxed.  “Like it was then.”

Xander seized the vampire and brought his movements to a halt.  Furious at the demands, at Spike’s need for claiming, all the negative emotions returned, a massive crippling bombardment.

“This is how it is.”  Xander tried to swallow back his growing anger but the rage was defeating him.  “Because…because…”

“Xander, fuck me, make it hard, make me bl…”

“I am not a fucking vampire!” Xander screamed at him, feeling Spike’s body become rigid with the shock of it.

Xander pushed away, quickly fastening his robe, already losing his erection, amazed he’d been able to achieve one in the first place.  Spike followed within a second, all over Xander like a rash, demanding attention and growling when Xander caught his wrists and held them firmly away from his body.

“Claim me,” he panted.

“If you haven’t been fucking around you don’t need to be claimed,” Xander told him through clenched teeth.

“Xander…” Spike persisted, barely listening, “Claim me.”

Xander caught his breath, tightened his grip to something that would have cut off the circulation of a living being.

“Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

He pointlessly tried to keep the upset from his voice; Spike heard and finally paid attention.

“You know I’ll say anything to make you take me that way.”

“Spike…  Spike…  You’re breaking my heart here.”

“You don’t need to claim me,” Spike spelt out.  “But have me, now, have me.  Want me that madly, Xander.  Like I want you.  I’ve missed you and I want you.”

With a slow shake of the head Xander dropped Spike’s wrists, backing off.

“I thought I could trust you.”

“You can.”

“I don’t!” at a scream again.

Xander spun away and toward the door.

“Why?”

Freezing, turning, Xander stared into Spike’s eyes, desperate for the truth.

“There’s something you’re not telling me.”

There it was, the rapidly disguised flicker of emotion that confirmed Xander’s accusation.  He couldn’t take it; he knew but he didn’t want to know.

With the next attempt to bolt he got as far as the hallway.

“It’s not what you think, Xander,” Spike called.  “It’s not me and Angel.”

“Fucking liar!”

“Prove it,” Spike demanded.  “Stop trying to do a runner and tell me why you think I had the old man.”

For a moment Xander felt the energy drain from him.  He was so, so tired.  He didn’t want to do this, say this, he wanted to be alone to work through his misery in private.  He hated to be alone and he wanted to be alone to start getting used to it again, because Spike wasn’t going to stay.  Xander wouldn’t share so Spike wouldn’t stay.

“Pack,” Xander said under his breath.

“No, I will not fucking pack!” Spike announced, outraged by the possibility of being thrown out of his own home.  “You don’t get rid of me that easily.  I want to be here, with you, and I will not…”

“You called me sire,” burst, furiously, from Xander.  “Half-asleep and I kissed you and touched you and you thought it was him.  My hand on your dick and you thought it was your fucking sire.  What does that say to you?”  Spike considered for a moment and, to Xander’s dismay, started to laugh.  The human’s face darkened with fury.  “Don’t laugh at me.  I’m feeling too fucking insane to be laughed at,” he warned.

“But it’s you,” Spike smiled.  “I was talking to you, you daft sod.”

“I’m warning you, Spike, I am this close…”  Finger and thumb held a hair’s breadth apart.  “…to losing it, and I don’t want to hurt you.”

The affectionate expression never left Spike’s face and Xander turned his back on it, knowing he had to get out before he gave in to the temptation to punch it away.  He got as far as the front door before the word brought him to a halt.

“Sire,” came Spike’s voice behind him, loud, clear and full of warmth.  “Sire,” was repeated, softer now, seductively.  Xander was trapped: he didn’t seem able to leave but he couldn’t risk facing Spike; so mad, so desperately unhappy, so ready to physically lash out at the defenceless creature he adored.

“Can you please leave me alone?” he whispered shakily, forcing civility through clenched teeth.

“No.”  Too near.

“I’m frightened I’ll hurt you.”

Hands on his back; Xander shuddered and loved and hated and okay, yes, wanted to claim.

“Xander.  Sire.  My sire.”  The words finally penetrated the red mist.  Okay.  Officially gone insane here.  Did Spike actually call me…  “Sire.”

The hands brought him about.  The beautiful face still smiled, the eyes glowed with satisfaction.

“I don’t…  Sire?  I don’t understand.”

“Neither did I.”  Spike took Xander’s hands in his, kissed both.  “But Angel saw what we were too close to see.”

Xander allowed himself to be guided to the living room and sat down.  Spike disappeared for a while and came back fully dressed, and with a couple of beers.  On opposite sides of the room they drank in silence.

“Fit to listen?” Spike eventually asked.

“I don’t know,” Xander replied truthfully.

“You’re not so mad though.”

“Angry mad?  No.  Insane mad?  Taking a rain check.”

“You look tired.  How about a nap first, and we have this conversation later?”

“If I go to sleep now I won’t wake up until the morning, and…how the fuck do I suddenly become sire?”

Xander saw the lust flare in Spike’s eyes at the use of the title and he was instantly battling to control his reactions.  He was apparently supposed to believe that when Spike wanted sire, he wanted Xander.  Xander shook his head and rubbed his brow.  Crap.  It was utter crap.  But…  The look was still there on Spike’s face and it was Xander he was gazing at so adoringly.

“I was thinking about this – you – all the way home and I know Angel’s right.  He said I hated calling him sire more than I ever did because I thought the title belonged to you.”

“That’s impossible.”

“No, listen.  When all that bad business happened and the demon withdrew it was…disconnected.  In its absence William fell for you completely and, however much I would have denied it once, that’s a big influence.  So, the demon finally comes out of retreat, and it’s been so long it’s like waking up for the first time after being made, and it feels this powerful love in William which it doesn’t question, just takes as the love of a childe for its sire and follows the lead.  It’s been damaged and lost and there you are, making everything safe and right just like a sire should.”

“But when you came back…  This makes no sense, you know that it’s not true.”

“It doesn’t matter what I actually know.  The demon is instinctively drawn to you, and those instincts scream sire.”

Xander shook his head.

“No.  This is…  No.”

“I can…” 

“You’re right, I’m too tired for this.”  Xander stood and trudged wearily to the door.  “I can’t see it making any more sense when I’m not exhausted, and if this is something you’re making up to get out of…”

The words trailed away as Xander left the room and a few minutes later, Spike, sighing heavily at the prospect of trying to explain this further, levered himself to his feet and followed.

Xander was already in bed and dozing by the time he arrived.  Deciding to take a chance he stripped off and joined his partner, getting close enough to feel Xander’s heat and unable to resist running his hand over the human’s t-clad chest.

“Don’t,” Xander murmured, shifting away slightly.

“I’m not doing any harm,” Spike said softly.  “Just have to be close.  I love you.  I missed you.”

Spike matched Xander’s shift and went back to stroking his chest, letting his hand gradually drift to Xander’s stomach, unconsciously covering the scar.  Xander’s head turned sharply in his direction.

“What do you want?”

Spike’s fingertips kept stroking and stroking.

“This.  Us.”

“Us?  You—  God, I’m so dumb.  You want a fuck?  Is that all that matters to you?”  Xander awkwardly manoeuvred himself onto his front.  “There, take.  Get it over with and let me sleep.”  Now Spike ran his fingers over the waistband of Xander’s boxers.  “Just rip ‘em off, wouldn’t be the first time.”

Spike gave Xander’s backside one affectionate touch through the cotton before settling over Xander’s back, kissing his neck and shoulders.

“Please, love.  Not sex, just contact.  Let me be near you.  I love you, Xander.”

Xander irritably attempted to shrug him off but it was impossible.

“For Christ’s sake, Spike, what is it you want?”

“I want you to want me.  To love me.”

Xander laughed, a cold, bitter sound.

“Don’t you get it?  If I didn’t love you so much I wouldn’t give a damn about you being – oh, yeah, that’d be being in the biblical sense – with Angel.”

“This is…!  Xander, I thought we agreed to be strong.”

“And I thought we agreed to be faithful.”

“I haven’t…”

“Fuck off, Spike, don’t want to hear it.”

“Fuck off?” Spike repeated, anger finally roused.  “If that’s really what you’d like, that’s what I’ll do.”  Up and dressing.  “I don’t have to be here, Xander, there are other places where I’m actually welcome.”

Spike peevishly left.

Spike peevishly returned.

“You’re supposed to stop me!” he yelled, “I start to go and you stop me.  Xander.  You stop me leaving.”  Xander rolled and stared up at Spike, who looked as distressed as he sounded.  “You stop me.  Because you love me so much.  You say, ‘Don’t go’.”  Spike waited and Xander stared.  “Say, ‘Don’t go’.”

Time passed.  Xander was too exhausted to be principled.

“Don’t go.”

Xander saw Spike slump at the reprieve before he turned his back on the vampire, listening to him remove his clothes, feeling the rock of the mattress as he climbed into bed.

“I love you,” Spike told him, yet again.

“It’s not enough.”

Spike kept quiet and let Xander doze, in the hope he’d be a little more amenable when he woke.  Once sure the human was asleep, Spike moved close, spooning against the still tense form, smiling as Xander automatically leant back into the embrace and began to let the tension go.

…

Later, they each knew the other was awake, but for as long as was practicable they pretended to not know because it would mean losing this hiatus.

Which had to be lost.  No hiding from the truth, from the next chapter in the ongoing saga of Spike and Xander’s tales of the bizarre.

“Do you hold him like this?” Xander asked in the lowest whisper.

Spike flinched at the pain in Xander’s voice, tightened his grip.

“No-one but you.  My darling, my Xander.”

And he risked burying a kiss in the untidy dark hair.

“Say it.”

“Say…?”

“What you said before.”

Spike wasn’t sure whether or not this was progress or the start of the next massive fight.  But Xander had asked, and Spike wanted to give Xander anything he asked for.

“Sire,” he said, deferentially in a reflection of his newly recognised state of mind.  Spike meant it, and he loved what it represented.  “Sire.”

“That’s not me,” Xander’s voice shook and Spike shushed him.

“It’s going to take some accepting, but we’ll get there.  We’ve dealt with far worse.”

Xander shifted away and sat up.

“I have to feed Henry.”

“Shall I?” Spike offered, half out of bed before Xander waved him to stay put.

“No.  I’m good.  Where’s he been all day?”

“Sensibly keeping out of the way.  He likes the woods, I think he’s got a bolt hole there.”

“Yeah.  Figures.  Y’know, the way he comes and goes.”  Xander stood and pulled on a pair of sweatpants.  “Thank you for…for not…”  Xander stopped and took a deep breath, forcing the sentence out in one go.  “Thank you for not just taking what you wanted earlier.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” Spike assured.  “Whole, remember?  You’ll never get to face the demon again, not purely.”

Xander nodded his acceptance and began to leave.

“Xander…”  Spike knew he was wrong to try and take advantage of Xander’s temporary…calmness?  More like…nothingness.  But he was desperate to know.  “Please.”

“What?”

“Angel.”

Xander looked stunned.  Then he looked afraid.  He glanced down at the palm of his hand before making a fist.  As he looked back to Spike, he began to shake, his eyes filled.

“I…  Spike…  I don’t know what I’ve done.  I must have been right, what I said before, that something was broken in my head because I keep…  I lose stuff, or I’m not me, or…  I lose stuff.  And I’ve lost this.  I don’t know if…”  His voice broke and Spike lurched forward, wanting to hold his distressed partner but having to stop himself.  “I don’t know what I’ve done.”

“What do you remember, love?” Spike asked gently.  Xander shrugged, still afraid, feeling eerily isolated.  “Do you remember what you told me yesterday?  About going to LA?  Seeing Angel and…”

“Yes,” Xander interrupted as the words jolted his crumbling memory.  “I said that.  I…”  Spike watched with alarm as, for just a few minutes, he saw the previous day’s ‘in shock’ version of Xander appear: numbly detached, breathing too heavily, skin turning ashen.  “Xander!”

Xander jerked a look in Spike’s direction.

“Yeah, I said…”  A panicked breath.  “I remember.”

“Was any of it real?”

“I was…”  He swallowed hard.  “…about to ask you that.”

Spike couldn’t restrain himself any longer…

“Poor love.”

…and he rose and crossed to Xander.  But at his approach, Xander recoiled, and all Spike was left with was a slow retreat back to the bed; he sat and pessimistically patted the mattress.  Xander considered that before moving to sit hunched in the tub chair, hands trapped between his knees in a bid to stifle the trembling that threatened to shake him apart.

“I’m crazy, Spike.”

“No.  Forgetting doesn’t mean you’re crazy…”

“What does?  The fact that I think I did it?  But at the same time…”  A flinch as Spike came to kneel at his feet, then desperate longing as Spike comfortingly rubbed his forearms.  Xander closed his eyes and concentrated.  “I can see blood.  Blood, not dust.  It doesn’t make sense.  Blood…  Fire…  I can’t see his face, I don’t…”

“This is a nightmare, Xander, this isn’t real.  I think you’re very upset and tired, and you’re confusing a nightmare with reality.”  Xander looked at him, all liquid eyes and self-doubt.  “You said fire.  That’s not real,” Spike assured.  “If that was real we’d know about it by now.”

“It’s not real?”

“No.  And you’re not crazy.  Overwrought more like.”

Xander shook his head.

“I think I killed him.  I don’t want to have killed him.”

“Why not?”

“Because you need him.  Because…because if you love him more than me…”

“No, no, you don’t think that,” Spike insisted, reaching out to pull Xander to him, a thankfully unresisting Xander.  “There is no-one, there is nothing in existence I love more than you.”

“And…and…he’s…family.  He’s…Grandpa.”

Spike shushed and comforted as the tears fell, purring lightly and feeling the consort respond instinctively to the familiar sound, pressing closer, seeking consolation from its source.

“We’ll find out the truth, love, don’t you worry.”

“Oh, God, Buffy, what do I tell Buffy?”

“Nothing until we know what happened.  Or didn’t happen.”

“But I’m…”

“In shock.  I think a fantasy became a nightmare became a little too real and you’ve scared yourself into this state.”

The memory of the other Xander, the one that emerged during this Xander’s post-trauma absence, was prominent in Spike’s mind.  He wondered if that obsessed character could possibly have influenced Xander into killing the one threat to the happiness he shared with Spike/William.  He didn’t have to wonder for long: the conclusion was a resounding yes.  For now though, Spike wasn’t even tempted to share any of this with Xander; first he’d wait to hear something definite about Angel – however hard waiting would be, because it was impossible for him to leave Xander and go investigate for himself – and then they’d deal with the consequences.

“Spike?” Xander interrupted his thoughts.

“Yes, love?”

“I bought a ticket to LA.  I remember that.”

“But did you use it?”

“I went to the catch the flight…”

“Do you remember being on the plane?”

“I…  No.”  His voice wavered again.  “But…”

Spike pulled back to look at Xander.

“Let’s take it from there.  You okay here for a minute?”

Xander nodded miserably and Spike gave him a brief hug before speeding downstairs, finding Xander’s discarded suit jacket and going through the pockets, discovering nothing and moving on to his coat.  Still no evidence, either of Xander being on or off that flight.  He stopped to consider the drastic step of attempting to hack into the airline’s computers when his gaze fell onto a far more obvious alternative.  He yanked Xander’s briefcase onto the hall table and quickly fed in the combination for the locks, pinging them open and flinging back the lid.  A few intense minutes searching, and tucked into a pocket was an airline ticket; Spike took a moment to steel himself for bad news before removing it and checking it over.

Seconds later he was back upstairs with Xander, offering both the ticket and the conclusion:

“Pristine.  It hasn’t been used.”

Once again Xander’s eyes filled with tears, but these were of relief.

“I didn’t go.”

“No.  And wherever the old sod is we’ll find him and give him hell for frightening us.”

“Have you still been trying to call him?”  Spike nodded.  “Try again.”

Spike picked up the nearest handset with somewhat less urgency now, but was frustrated by the usual negative responses to his efforts.

“I need him to be in one piece, Xander,” Spike admitted quietly as he replaced the handset.  “And it’s about nothing more than me feeling a bit safer in this world.  Nothing more than that.”

“If you want to go to LA…”  Spike looked warily at Xander.  “You go.  Go find him.”

Spike virtually flew across the space dividing them, hugging Xander closely and kissing his neck.  Xander tolerated the display of affection, didn’t return it.

“Thank you, love.  Thank you.”

“Will you go now?”

“No.  I want to be here with you.”  A sudden laugh broke from Spike.  “This is funny, Xander.  This time next week you’ll get how funny it is.”

“I doubt it.”

“Worthy of a demon, this was, you wicked, wicked man.”

Unthinkingly, Spike laid a giddy kiss on Xander’s mouth, only to be unceremoniously pushed aside.

“No, okay?  Nothing’s changed, not about…” 

Spike’s mood flattened quickly as he remembered Xander’s doubts about his fidelity.  He took a deep, deep breath and reluctantly nodded.

“Whatever you want.  But I have been faithful to you, Xander.  Me fucking the old man is as much of a nightmare as you staking him.”

This time Spike was impervious to Xander’s distress at the words.  It was all fantasy – the sex or the destruction – and he wasn’t about to carry on treating it with undeserved gravitas.

“Okay,” Xander said uneasily, in the not-okay voice.

But Spike chose to take him at his word.

“Okay: good.”  He sighed and stretched.  “I’m knackered.  Want to come back to bed for a while?  Nice cuddle and a kip?”

“No.  You…”  Xander gestured toward the bed.  “I’ll feed Henry.”

“Hamish.”

“Henry,” Xander insisted without passion, but it was a good sign, Spike considered, and he smiled.

The smile faded as Xander left the room.  Spike – reassured, confused, unsettled, guilty – considered following but decided on a little space for his unhappy partner, pretty sure that, left alone, Xander would soon forget the worst of the bad feelings.  Falling back into bed Spike grabbed Xander’s pillow and hugged it, rubbing his face in the scented cotton and purring himself back to sleep.

Xander whistled in and fed Hamish, but found he still had no appetite of his own.  After the dog had eaten they went back outside so Xander could run off a little misery, haring around the grounds together, occasionally pausing to throw and fetch sticks.  Only when Hamish heard a noise in the woods and took off after it did Xander go back into the house, surprised to find he’d been outside for nearly two hours.

Oblivious now to the idea of having staked Angel, but still trying to come to terms with so much more, he thought about talking to Spike, trying to understand this too improbable scenario of Xander as sire, but…  He gave a humourless laugh at his own expense: running away.  Couldn’t face it, couldn’t face Spike.  Into the living room and he browsed the DVDs, looking for something to preoccupy him, choosing Duck Soup because it contained a world only marginally less crazy than his own.

…

“‘Well, that covers a lot of ground,’” Xander quoted along with Rufus T Firefly.  “‘Say, you cover a lot of ground yourself.  You better beat it – I hear they're going to tear you down and put up an office building where you're standing. You can leave in a taxi.  If you can't get a taxi, you can leave in a huff.  If that's too soon, you can leave in a minute and a huff. You know, you haven't stopped talking since I came here?  You must have been vaccinated with a phonograph needle.’”

All those years ago and someone was scripting Xander-babble.  He grinned to himself, but the smile faltered as Spike wandered in, half-asleep and fully naked.  The vampire didn’t hesitate for a moment, simply crawled over the end of the sofa and along Xander until he was able to wedge himself between his partner and the sofa back.

“Bad dream,” he murmured before Xander had a chance to protest.

Bad dream and Xander wriggled around until his arms could enfold Spike.  Bad dream and Xander didn’t have the heart to turn him away, because Xander knew all about the power of bad dreams.  Several sporadic bursts of purring and the vampire fell asleep.

“Don’t dream,” Xander whispered, repeating words he’d frequently said to the horribly damaged William a long time ago.  “Xander’s here and the bad guys can’t get you.  Don’t dream.”

…

Xander watched most of the film for a second time as he was pinned under Spike, only turning off the TV when Spike began to stir.

“How did I get here?” the vampire asked as he stretched.

“Dream.”

“This is, or I was?”

“You were dreaming.”

“You didn’t send me away.”  A statement of the obvious that needed no response.  “Want me to move now?”

The petulant yes they were both expecting never arrived.  Instead, Xander gave in to his need to hold Spike, cuddling him and rubbing his face in the disarrayed blond locks.  Spike creaked in pleasure and Xander had to smile, however sad a smile it was.

“I love you so much, Spike.”

“Show me?” Spike asked hopefully.

“I am.”

Beat.

“Yes.  You are.”

Beat.

“Talk to me.”

“Isn’t that a little…risky?”

“We have to talk.”

“You want to?”

“No.”

“So…?”

“I don’t want to keep running away either.”

“Okay.”  Spike paused.  He braced himself against his swift, Xander-instigated removal from the sofa.  “Sire.”

Xander shifted uncomfortably but there was no removing Spike.

“Okay,” he repeated.  “Sire.”

“I’ve never been quite right with you, have I?  I used to think I was weak, that somehow William was making me weak.”

“But…?”

“Not weak.  What I perceived as weakness was the compliant childe, not having a sire I want to fight against and antagonise, but a sire I love and respect.”

“You have fought me.  You’ve hurt me.”

“It’s perfectly natural for the demon to challenge authority, but ultimately it worships its sire.”

“You felt that way about Angel once?”

“I felt that way about Drusilla.  She’s my sire, and the demon did worship her, yes.”

“When you…when the demon…”

“When I.”

“You.  If you feel the way you do, how could you attack me that time?”

“The demon is very possessive, and it wanted to claim it’s mate, keep him from the one discernible threat: William.  Who, at the time, was perceived as a separate entity.  See, you worked at making us equal, so when we mated the demon wanted to take you, but with all the other stuff screwing up my head I couldn’t fuck you and I wouldn’t bite you.  You’d already given William blood and sex, it’s no wonder the demon thought it was losing its sire to the competition.  It wanted to claim you the way I’m always asking you to claim me.”

“So…”

“Instinct, insecurity…  And the fact you had no idea of what you were dealing with,” Spike finished apologetically.

“My mistakes?”

“Yes, love.  Sorry to…”

“No, I knew that’d come up sooner or later, how could I not make mistakes?  That’s okay, you can say that.”

“You didn’t understand that you were reaffirming the impression of sire.  Every time you bit me it was affirmation, that was sire.  When I was out of control…”

“Which time?”

Spike sighed.

“Fair point.  After you went back to work and I wrecked the place.”  Xander nodded.  “I needed comfort, the demon was desperate for reassurance, and you gave me your wrist to drink from.”

“Like a sire would,” Xander murmured his understanding.  “I remember William telling me that the demon was rejecting Angel, is that to do with this?”

“It was like Angel was trying to usurp the true sire’s position.  Again.  The first time around was necessary, Dru didn’t know how to cope with a childe.  But this time…  Like I said, I have a sire I love and respect.”

“I need to think about this.”

“You want me to get Angel to talk to you?”

“Let’s not rush into anything,” Xander told Spike sourly.  “I’m sure I can think of an even bigger humiliation if you give me a few.”

Time to shut up.  Spike gave Xander a while for everything to sink in, pleased that his human was at least attempting to make sense of this latest turn of events.  For himself, every time that Spike was allowed to address Xander as sire he could feel the demon’s satisfaction in the light of the acknowledgement.  The more Spike let himself think of Xander that way, the more contented he became, and the harder it was not to purr, so he whispered…

“Sire.”

…and he purred.  For himself.  For Sire.

Xander was smiling, Spike could hear it when he spoke.

“You’re that happy with it?”

“Happy?  I’m bloody delirious!”

“And Angel?”

“Don’t give a toss what he thinks about it.  But if he minded so much, would he have pointed it out?”

“You have to be…  You are the weirdest vampire in the encyclopaedia of weird.  That includes the foreword and addendums.”  Xander let out a groan.  “And damn it if I don’t have that duck out of Tom and Jerry stuck in my head now.”

Spike buried his face in Xander’s neck, suckling and purring.  Xander held and stroked.  More thinking, hadn’t he had enough thinking?  But this almost made sense, and only almost because he was still raw from living through his worst fears over himself and Spike.  He’d get used to the idea, and he’d cope, and he’d never think Angel when Spike said sire.  Maybe.

The attentions of the vampire were becoming a little more amorous; no way Xander was ready for that yet and he attempted to wriggle out from beneath Spike.

“Don’t go, Xander.  I haven’t done anything wrong.  Why am I being punished for something you misunderstood?”

“I can’t get past this so easily.  You have to give me some time.”

“What’s to get past, love?”

“How would you feel?  In my position?  Believing that—”

“Don’t stop there,” Spike said with plain disappointment.  “You were about to tell me that you still believe I had Angel.”

“Let me up.”

Spike reluctantly did that, rolling back so Xander could swing off of the sofa.  Across the room he awkwardly got to his knees, fumbled over the DVD player, fumbled over putting the disc away, distracted and plainly still upset.

“It’s hard to be patient when I want you so much,” Spike said as he made himself comfortable and stroked his erection.

Xander irritably pushed back the strands falling into his face as he stared at the floor.

“Will you come and cut my hair?”  At Spike’s chuckle, Xander glanced around.  “I didn’t mean that kind of come, I…  When you’re finished here will you cut my hair?”

“Be quicker with a hand from you.  And I did mean that kind of hand.”

“I can get it cut tomorrow if…”

“You wouldn’t dare,” and Spike was with Xander on the floor, causing a yelp as he knocked Xander flat on his back and loomed over him on hands and knees.  “No-one touches you but me.”

“Who touches you, Spike?” Xander asked, expression full of pain and doubt.

Xander’s hand was grabbed and pulled to where Spike’s cock was hard and dripping, and his fingers were wrapped around the rigid flesh.

“Consort,” Spike growled as he began to fuck Xander’s fist.  “Consort.”  Golden eyes in a human face fixed on Xander.

Then it was Spike’s turn to be shocked as Xander – and Spike would be wondering for hours about exactly how this was done – flicked them over, and the human was above Spike, hands on his chest, keeping himself at arm’s length.

“Don’t forget that,” Xander told him in a low voice that made Spike’s skin crawl deliciously.

“Touch me.”

Xander glanced over the alluring body, momentarily tempted.  Then he sat back on his heels between Spike’s legs.

“Call me when you’re done.  I’d like you to cut my hair.”

Xander rose, gracefully now, and wandered off; Spike heard him humming a lesson as he made his way to the music room and recognised that as a diversionary tactic to stop himself thinking.  It was a good sign nevertheless: an hour on the piano and Xander would be much happier, just the fact that he was playing was a step in the right direction, a step closer to their half-baked brand of normality.

Spike decided on the shower for the resumption of his own activities.  He needed heat, and the water’s would do if he couldn’t have Xander’s.

…

“It wasn’t true, was it?” Xander asked guardedly as Spike was finishing off the hair cut.  “Angel thinking about me?”

“Yeah, that was true.”

Xander fidgeted in his seat until Spike physically held him still.

“I don’t like it.”

“Harmless enough, pet.  Let the pathetic bastard have a bit of a perv.”

“He knows you know?”  Xander twisted to see Spike’s face; the vampire just grinned and repositioned Xander’s head.  “What have you said to him?”

“Nothing.  Much.  Just dropped a few saucy little gems into the conversation.  He knew how long you were unclaimed: I had to tell him because of the chip business.”

“You had to?”

“Drove him crazy, the thought of me having you first.”

“This is our private business.”

“You have to be grateful that pesky old soul of his isn’t going anywhere.”

“Are you still worried about him?”

Spike paused for a moment’s thought, shrugged.

“He does this every so often apparently, the disappearing act.  None of his drones are worried yet, so why should I be?”

“You are.”

“Well…”

“I am.  I’ll be glad when we know he’s home.”

Spike heard the honesty in Xander’s words and was no longer afraid to…

“Hmm.”

…an agreement.  A few more snips and Spike was just about finished.

“So you were taunting him using me?”

“Come on, Xan, gimme a break, I don’t get many chances to be perfectly evil.”

“And this was?”

“Oh, yeah, if you’d seen his face.  Locate sensitive body part, insert knife, twist, twist, twist.”

Spike gleefully demonstrated the action with the scissors and Xander couldn’t contain a laugh.  Encouraged, Spike poked the scissors into his back pocket and straddled Xander’s lap, sitting and running his fingers through the damp hair, checking the cut.

“What else?” Xander asked, hands resting awkwardly on Spike’s thighs.

“Honesty got the better of me.  I had to tell him how bloody fantastic you are in the sack.  Told him you were the best I’d ever had, and he knew I wasn’t lying.  And I might have mentioned your…persistence.”

“I don’t believe you sometimes, you’re just…”  Xander made an exasperated noise before silently letting Spike trim away the last stray hairs.  “Spike…”

“Yes, love?”

Xander hesitated before continuing uncomfortably.

“You know there was never anything there for me, don’t you?  With Angel.”

“I know you never wanted him.  Maybe, when you were younger, there were times when you wanted to be him.”

Spike watched Xander think about that and eventually the human nodded.  He also saw the memories of the last two days resurrected.

“Jesus, I could have killed him.  If I’d seen him I would have, I swear, or died trying.”

“You didn’t though, did you?” Spike deliberately brushed the subject off.  “Just scared yourself a bit over wanting to.”

A frown marred Spike’s face as he raked repeatedly through Xander’s hair.  He remembered quite distinctly noticing the strands of grey in it last year but now there wasn’t one to be found.  He’d have smelt any concoctions Xander might have used to colour his hair, not that he thought Xander would, so…

“Anything wrong?” Xander asked, pushing against Spike’s hands in order to raise his head and see the vampire.

Spike cupped Xander’s face and studied it closely.  The few lines Xander had accumulated through laughter or worry seemed less distinct and, despite being tired, his eyes were clear, un-bloodshot.  Completely inexplicable.  Wholly welcome.

“Nothing wrong,” Spike answered vaguely, as his curiosity was replaced by love, and his touch became gentler.  “I…  I adore you.  No-one but you.  Believe that.”

Xander permitted the one tender kiss Spike dared to place on his mouth, and gave as honest an answer as he could.

“I’m trying.”

Repossession 97       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

Site Updates     Update List     Home     Fiction     Gallery     Links     Feedback