Spike accepted that the way to get through the Friday was to let Xander work, or at least stay at work, from dawn until ten in the evening.  When he heard the Jag – yes, Xander was still driving the Jag for reasons Spike could suspect but didn’t want confirmed – he and Hamish strolled down to the gates to make sure there were no problems with the Fan Club, or the last few members of Death Wish Club.

Xander had watched the ensuing fracas with weary disinterest, only brightening when he was parked up and Hamish came bounding up to him, wagging and woofing in delight that the remaining member of the pack was home.

“Tell me you haven’t changed your plans,” Spike said as he strolled toward his partner, tucking his hands into his pockets so they wouldn’t attempt to roam where they were barely allowed.

Xander looked up from where he was fussing Hamish and gave Spike a half-hearted smile.

“No change.  Week off.”

“Good.”

Spike pulled Xander’s coat and briefcase from the car and herded him inside, whistling to Hamish to follow rather than stand growling at the remaining vampires.

A quiet supper and then Xander showered while Spike waited for him in bed, knowing he’d get up once his human was asleep and nip out to work off a little of the excess energy he’d rather be expending in a whole other way.  Spike hoped Xander would let himself be held and comforted, but expected nothing more.  Xander was still recovering from his partner’s betrayal – whether or not it had happened, Xander had to get over the shock and upset of believing it so entirely.  Spike understood.  When Xander had been kissed, Spike wanted to go out and skin the perpetrator alive, and it was only the fact that Xander had been incapacitated for so long after Spike found out that his trust was fully restored.  If Xander had confessed then gone off to work the next day, Spike wouldn’t have been responsible for his dire actions; Christien Haakon would have been a very mutilated man, even if the deed had made Spike’s head explode with the pain.  Nobody ever claimed that love made you rational.

Xander eventually joined him, not objecting when Spike cuddled close.

“Hey,” Xander whispered, the first relaxed word Spike had heard all evening.

“Hello, love.  Missed you.”

“Yeah,” Xander agreed.

They laid in silence for a while, but Spike felt Xander tense and knew he wanted to ask something.  Get it over with.

“Say it.”

“I wasn’t…”  Xander paused in thought for a while longer before forcing the words out.  “Do you share his bed?”

Spike dreaded being honest, but knew he had no choice.

“Sometimes.  When I can’t face being alone.”

Beat.

“Okay.”

“Don’t read anything into it.  When I get like that I’d gladly share space with anyone I feel safe with.  Any of the girls and, yes, even the slayer before you ask.  Any of the family even, if they were around and you weren’t.”

“I get it.”

“Hamish,” Spike smiled.  “But he does hog the covers.”

“Henry,” Xander corrected sleepily.

“Y’know, love, as I become…more, Angel will become…less.”

“Tomorrow.  Not now.  Now, just…  Hold me.”

Spike swallowed at the sudden lump in his throat and tightened his grip.

…

Saturday pm.  There was a note waiting for Spike on the kitchen table.  It said simply: ‘Gone to gallery, see you later. X xxx.’

“Better than, ‘Pack and fuck off’ I s’pose,” Spike griped to himself, crossing to the fridge and pulling out a couple of bags of blood.  Hamish had predictably followed him and Spike found him some treats while he waited for the blood to heat.  “I won’t lose him,” Spike insisted as the dog happily crunched his way through Xander’s favourite cookies.  “I don’t care what I’ve done wrong, I won’t lose him.  Lose this.  This life is mine.  Xander is mine.”  He casually threw the last of the cookies in Hamish’s direction and the dog snatched it out of the air.  “Make a good pack, eh?  The three of us.”

The microwave pinged and Spike poured his blood into the Xander Spike mug, turning from the counter to continue his one-sided conversation with the wolfhound.  A sound at the periphery of his hearing made him tense; he listened hard.  Nothing.  He shook his head at himself and raised the mug to his lips, only seconds before it was smashed into pieces as a loud, unidentifiable sound caused Spike to release his grip and jump in fright.

“Fuck, no.  No, not now, not crazy anymore, not possible,” he insisted breathily to himself.  “Fuck!  Xander, I want Xander.”  A low growl brought his attention to Hamish: the dog was staring in the direction of the hallway, teeth bared and hackles raised.  “You…  You heard that?” asked Spike, justifiably stunned.

The realisation that this was not some living nightmare flooded Spike with rage, and he was demon-featured and out of the kitchen in less than a second, listening again, hoping to pin down where the noise was originating from.  Hamish sped past him, snarling at nothing, staring around in much the same manner as the vampire.  They waited.  And waited.  And waited.

Nothing more.

The demonic features morphed away; appetite gone, all Spike wanted now was to check that Xander was okay.  He spent a few minutes in the kitchen cleaning up the remains of the mug while Hamish made short work of the spilt blood.  All the time Spike was trying to decide whether this latest development should be made general knowledge.  He didn’t want Xander to not feel safe in his own home, but he wanted him forewarned should something more occur.  But decisions could wait: blood cleaned up, Spike needed to get out.

“C’mon, lad, let’s go and see Xander.  I’ll show you the gallery.  C’mon, Hame, where’s Xander?”

The hound bounded excitedly on the spot for a moment before taking off in the direction of the garage access.  Spike followed warily, grateful to reach the security of Xander’s Mercedes.

…

Xander looked up from his work as the gallery door opened, laughing under the sudden onslaught of over- excited dog.

“What ya doin’ here, Henry?  Dragging the old man out for a walk?”

“Cheeky bugger,” Spike retorted happily and, despite thinking that perhaps he shouldn’t, he crossed to Xander and gave him the quick kiss that felt entirely necessary, before backing off to avoid the chance of being rejected.

“Don’t eat that, stupid mutt, dogs don’t eat sawdust, no, they don’t, stop that,” Xander tried to reason with Hamish as Spike looked around.

Attention finally settling on the half-built desk, Spike crossed and ran his hands over the smooth oak.

“This is…  Beautiful.  Xander, it’s exquisite.”

“It will be.  English oak.  Rafe found it for us.  It’s so tough and hard to work but worth it.  It’ll probably outlast the both of us.”

“Thank you.”

“You don’t need to thank me, I’m really enjoying it.”

“When will it be finished?”

“Depends on how much time I put in this week.  Why?” Xander grinned.  “Looking forward to indulging the desk fetish?”

Spike’s entire body tingled pleasurably at the totally unexpected innuendo and he smiled back.

“Not saying a word.”  But the look spoke volumes.

Xander bodily shifted Hamish aside and picked up his scattered tools.

“What do I owe this honour to?”

Split second decision; Xander seemed happier today, Spike didn’t want to upset him over noises that might turn out to be perfectly innocent.

“I wanted to be with you.”  Hardly a lie.

“That’s, um…”  Xander stopped foraging in the wood shavings and turned back to look at Spike.  “I appreciate it.”

They spent a long moment gazing at one another, until Xander was distracted by Hamish picking up a desk leg and trotting off with it.

“Anything I can help with?” Spike called after the pair.

“I’d rather you stayed away from this until it’s done,” Xander called back between entreaties for Hamish to give up the wood without a fight.

“I can live with a few splinters.”

“I can’t stand the thought of you with splinters,” Xander explained as he returned, triumphantly waving the desk leg.

“Well, I do need to nip out for a bit.  I’ll bring you back something nice.”

“Are we talking chocolatey nice?”

“Might be.  What are you up for?  Bar, box or body paint?”

Spike regretted that the moment he said it, and he cringed at his own words.  But Xander just went back to his work.

“Get everything.  It all keeps.”  Spike got as far as the door.  “You want me to…?”

“No, love, you stay and…”  Spike smirked and fled.  “…play with your wood.”

…

Xander was at the tail end of an extended monologue when Spike returned.

“Hame looks bored to tears, what are you telling him?”

“About Sunnydale, some of our history.”

“No wonder he’s bored.”

“What do you talk to him about?”

“Y’know…  Hunting, maiming, killing.  Bloke stuff.”

“Wha…  You think I’m not bloke?  I’m bloke.  I speak bloke stuff.  And boring?  A timely reminder that Zeppo here did his fair share in the averting of apocalypses.”

“Sorry, yes, you’re extremely bloke,” Spike grinned, chuckling to himself as he went through to the small utility area and clicked the kettle on.

Xander followed.

“So, what d’ya get?”

“Lots of chocolate.  And doughnuts, if you’d like to carry out the ceremonial handing over of the doughnut boy title.”

Xander peered into the cake box before stealing a finger’s worth of fresh cream.

“And not just any doughnuts.  Can I ditch you and marry the woman who makes these?”

“As long as you realise it’s not that mouthful in the shop, but her grandma that does the baking.”

“It wasn’t love, it was lust, it meant nothing,” Xander declared dramatically.  “All doughnut batter and no substance.  Take me back, Spike.”

“You blokes are so bloody fickle.”

“What’s in here?”  Spike made a late attempt to grab the bag away from Xander, but he’d made a slippery exit and got back into the studio and was peering into yet another box.  “You realise we’re keeping this guy in business?” Xander laughed as he brought out another Xander Spike mug.

“Sorry, broke the other one.”

“It’s okay.  We’re putting his daughter through college, he needs you to keep crushing them with your mighty vampiry strength.”  Back to poking in the bag.  “What else…?  Ha!”

“Leave that,” Spike protested, once again and equally unsuccessfully trying to rescue one of his purchases from Xander, this time a small jewellery box.  “You bought a cross?”

“Not a cross, an X,” Spike corrected, suddenly subdued.

Xander ran a finger tip over the small plain stud.

“This for me?”

Spike turned away, feeling like the worst sentimental fool.

“I was going to get you to wear it for a while, then I wanted it.”

A rustle as Xander discarded the wrapping and…

“We don’t have a mirror, come and do this for me.”

Spike hesitated for a second, knowing his vulnerability was etched plainly on his features, but this was Xander, and he already knew every weakness the vampire suffered with.  Almost every.

Spike took the X and gently slid it through the piercing in Xander’s ear, carefully pushing the butterfly on the back before running his thumb over lobe and gold.

“I love you, Xander,” he whispered, avoiding Xander’s eyes because he wanted love in return, love without doubt.

What he actually got was strong arms encircling his waist as he was pulled into a hard, hard kiss.  A desperate kiss.  His hands came up to cup Xander’s head, fisting in dark hair and keeping him close.

“Fucking hell,” Xander groaned against Spike’s lips.  “I love you, too much.”

“Not too much, can’t be.”

More kisses, gentler now.

“I love you, Spike.”

“And I love you.  There’s no room in my heart for anyone else, it’s so full of you.  It’s safe for you to love me.  Trust me.”

“I…”

“Shh.  You will.  Again.”

Xander edged Spike away so he could look at him.

“You know what’s stupid?  I do trust you.”

“But only until it’s put to the test.”

“No.  I trust you.  I feel it inside.  But…  It’s the fear, the same old fear.  How can someone like me expect to hold onto someone like you?”

Spike gave a slow shake of the head at such a ridiculous question before kissing Xander again.  But Xander had returned to being the non-trusting trusting partner and couldn’t relax into Spike, so Spike backed off.  He pseudo-cheerfully returned to making coffee to go with the cakes, and missed his Xander so much his body ached with it.

It was almost funny, the way they discussed nothing much as they ate and drank, as if everything in their abnormal world was normal.  The only time Spike mentioned Angel, in relation to Xander’s proposed birthday excursion to Sunnydale, Xander tensed visibly, then carried on with the conversation twice as brightly to compensate for that damning moment of seeing Spike and his grandsire getting down and dirty in his mind.

Spike shifted the chesterfield from the side gallery into the reception room and let Hamish sprawl on the sofa while Spike sprawled on the dog, always happy to exploit any source of heat.  He watched Xander work and enjoyed his skill and precision.

“Are you disappointed in me?”  Xander asked unexpectedly.  “That I question your loyalty?”

“No.  Not like you do it deliberately, is it?  You don’t want to feel bad.”

“And, Spike…  You did say there was something you’re not telling me.”

“I know,” Spike conceded quietly.

“You going to?”

“Calling it what I’m not telling you should be a bit of a clue that I’m not telling you.”

“But it could be what you haven’t told me…so far.”

“No, Xander.”

“Fine,” Xander said tersely, and he went back to planing the timber.

Spike studied his partner, admiring the movement of the muscles in Xander’s back, and only partly wishing he could drape himself over it and fuck his boyfriend into next week.  He also wanted things to be right between them, and that was definitely the bigger part in the partly equation.

“Sometimes…” he began thoughtfully.  “Sometimes there are things in your past that you just have to accept and deal with.  You don’t share or analyse or talk them to death, you just…deal.  You certainly don’t present them to the person you want to think the best of you.”

“I always think the best of you.  Even when you drive me nuts it doesn’t go away.”

“There must be things in your past that you don’t want to tell me, in fact, I know there are.  Things that make you feel not so good, happenings that you can’t easily shake off, but nothing that affects us, nothing to hurt us now, so why tell me?  I respect that.  And you have to as well.”

Xander had stopped planing to listen, and now he turned to Spike.

“I do respect you and, yes, you have every right to privacy.  But I hate secrets, they’re so damaging, I didn’t think we had them.”

“Not secrets, love.  Just…private matters.”

“Secrets,” Xander stubbornly persisted.

“Call them what you like.  Secrets can help us stay together rather than blowing us apart.  You can pout and stamp around all you like, but I need a degree of privacy.  If you had my past, so would you.”

That simple phrase made an abrupt difference; Xander suddenly saw that they could be talking about a stirred memory of events that had occurred before he was born, before generations of his family were born.  Private matters.  And yes, there were things from his own past he didn’t want Spike to know that weren’t secrets, simply private.

“Why do you do this?  Why do you have to make sense?  It leaves me feeling like a stupid kid.  I should be able to figure this stuff out for myself instead of…”

“Behaving like a total arse?”

“Instead of…”  Xander took a deep, sad breath.  “Trying to figure out if you taste different now when I kiss you.”

Spike concentrated on dragging his fingers through Hamish’s fur.  Xander waited anxiously for the angry reaction which somehow never happened.

“Do I?” Spike challenged, wondering how long a foreign flavour could linger and thoroughly ashamed of what Xander might taste, refusing to share that shame by meeting his partner’s eyes.

“No, of course you don’t.  You taste of you.  I’m so sorry, Spike.  I will get over this, I promise.”

“And I’m sorry I made you feel this way.  One word to cause all this hurt.  Ridiculously careless.”

“Say it,” Xander instructed, sounding insecure and curious all at once.

Spike’s head rose; their eyes met.

“Sire.”

And there was that look again, the one that was steadily convincing Xander that this wasn’t some crazy way of Spike trying to cover a slip over fucking Angel.

“Again.”

“Sire.”

The vampire’s face began to morph into its true appearance and Spike quickly forced himself back to human.  That was reassuring, after all it was the demon that had taken Xander for its sire, not the hybrid that was Spike.  Spike knew the truth but the demon was fixated and not about to be swayed: Xander was sire.  A fresh thought suddenly struck Xander and he smiled.

“I’m your sire but you’re my master; how the hell is this going to work?”

“I have no idea,” Spike said lightly, trying to quell the demon’s lust for its sire at Xander’s admittance.  “Should be fun finding out.”

“Know what kinda makes sense?  The way you react sometimes.  In certain situations.”  Spike cocked an eyebrow enquiringly.  “How you explain it, the demon’s pretty…basic, right?  Instinct not intellect.”

“In some respects it’s a very simple entity, and looks at things simplistically, yes.”

“So if I’m his sire that would explain the response to praise.”  Spike waited with some trepidation because he knew where this was going.  “Like when I say good vampire and you go silly?” Xander explained.

“I don’t go silly.”

“What would you call it then?”

“It’s…”  Spike looked thoroughly stumped.  “Not…silly.”

“So, if I say it right now in that voice you like…”

“Don’t.”

“…it won’t make you silly and we’ll just carry on this conversation perfectly normally.”

“Yes,” Spike agreed warily.

“And if I did it and called you childe…”

“Don’t.”

“Okay, not that voice,” Xander acquiesced.  “But…  Childe.”  Spike trembled, the human mask slipped and was recovered.  More weird heaped upon weird, but Xander had to pursue this for the sake of the truth.  “My childe?”

The demon surged ecstatically within Spike and he was on his feet in seconds, heading for Xander.  He snatched up a hand and pressed his brow to the back of it in a gesture Xander had long forgotten.  Spike waited for his human to stop this show of submissiveness, surprised and relieved when Xander made no move to, purring quietly as Xander simply ran his free hand over Spike’s hair.

“I want to believe this,” Xander admitted painfully before drawing Spike to him and holding him close.  “Please never let me find out you’re just some great actor.”

“Believe this.”

“If I believe this we can get through the rest.”

“Believe this.”

…

They drove home separately, Xander finally back in his Merc after Spike had assured him most emphatically that he and Hamish had been the only ones in the car, and Spike remained on the drive, Jag idling as he waited for Xander to park up in the garage.

He stared at the house, wondering about the noises he’d heard earlier, and if his sanctuary was no longer as safe as he’d imagined.  It didn’t make sense to him: the ward was so powerful and sophisticated, how could anyone with evil intent breach it?  And if something had managed to get past the magic, how come he wasn’t aware of another presence in the house?  Even if his senses were dull they weren’t useless, and surely he would know?

Like he knew about Angel?  Spike thumped the steering wheel.  Ignorant bastard, why don’t you call?

Hamish bounded from the garage like a mad thing, and Xander followed more sedately, enjoying the dog’s antics but quickly subduing his laughter.  It was, Spike felt forlornly, as if he were afraid to be happy.  With an extravagant gesture Xander waved Spike into his own parking spot in the garage; Spike’s hands tightened on the wheel but the momentary anxiety prevented him from driving in.  As Xander took off in the direction of the wolfhound, Spike steeled himself and eased the Jag alongside the Mercedes.

Out of the car and everything felt fine.  Exactly as it should.  Spike walked slowly and deliberately to the door into the hallway, hand resting on the handle for a whole minute before he decided to join Xander outside with Hamish for a while, and he chose to believe that it was only because he wanted the time with his family.

…

Xander cooked, and Spike was glad to see him eat because it was probably the first time in days he’d had a decent meal.  They remained at the table long after the food was gone, discussing the gallery, what paintings Spike should display to begin with, the quality of the contributions from other artists, and everything appeared to be fine until Hamish suddenly leapt to his feet and growled his way into the hall.

The first creak followed seconds later and Spike was on his feet, protectively hovering over Xander before the human registered him moving.  Xander took Spike’s hand as he stood, and drew him along as he followed the wolfhound, carefully listening for the next sound.  A sharp crack made them both jump, but beyond that Xander was unnervingly calm.

“Have you heard this before?” he asked Spike.

“Yes,” Spike reluctantly replied.

Xander finally noticed that Spike was shaking from a combination of stress and fear, and he turned to run a soothing hand over his shoulder and neck.

“You should have said something.”

“It was only today.  I didn’t want to worry you.”

“Yeah, but it could be something structural, and you never said.  You want the place to fall down on our heads?”

The look of surprise on Spike’s face would have been funny if he hadn’t been so troubled.

“You mean…?”

“Well, yeah, our past history says it may be a big creepy…whatever.  But sometimes a settling foundation is just a settling foundation.  I’m going to start with the attic and listen…”

“No!”

“Sweetheart…”  Xander hugged Spike to him.  “We’re safe here.  You’re safe.  Well, unless we go with the whole building crashing down scenario.  Let me go have a listen.”

“Xander…”

Spike’s grip tightened and he bit his lip to stop the pleas not to be left from emerging; Xander kept stroking and stroking, hoping to soothe the unhappy vampire.

“How about…I call Pat, ask him to come over and go through the place with me?”

“Yes, do that, get Patrick.”

“Spike, did it never occur to you for a moment there could be a non-spooky reason for this?”

“No.  When Hamish reacted…”

“Yeah, but he reacts like that to squirrels on the conservatory roof.”

“He does?” Spike asked doubtfully.

Now Xander did laugh.

“Yeah.  He makes my overprotective vampire look like a disinterested observer.”

“Oh…fuck,” Spike said quietly, letting himself be hugged and comforted for his stupidity.

As Xander wandered, mostly unconcerned, about the house he used his cell to phone Patrick and let him know about the noises.  He extended an invitation for his friend, who was by contrast deeply concerned, to visit and hear them for himself, and requested that Beth should come along to keep a very jittery Spike company.

Two hours later, the group convened around the kitchen table, Xander and Pat discussing what they had and hadn’t found.  More hadn’t than had.

“I think, what they’re saying,” Beth dropped her voice to a terrified whisper, “is that they only moved the headstones.”  Spike took a second to recognise the Poltergeist reference before letting out a bark of laughter.  Xander falsified his best glare and turned it on Beth, who ignored him and prodded Spike’s shin with her toes.  “Want to come and stay with us tonight?  Our house is older, it’s past the creaky stage.”

Xander looked to Spike, waiting for an answer.  Spike looked to Xander, waiting for an indication of what that answer should be.  Nothing was forthcoming, and Spike made his own choice.

“We’ll be fine here, pet.”

“So long as you know you’re welcome.  Any time.”

“I do know,” Spike conceded with a sigh as some of the tension finally drained away.  “Family, innit?”

At Spike’s request there was a last look around before Patrick and Beth left, specifically so Spike could find a way to get Patrick alone.  It took a little manipulation but he eventually managed it.

“Are we safe?” he asked Patrick bluntly.  “I know about the ward, and only you could have arranged it, so tell me.  Is it strong enough?  Are we safe?”

Patrick considered the question, and studied Spike thoughtfully before making up his mind to be completely frank.

“You are perfectly safe within the ward.”

“The noises?  They really are the house settling?”

“I think so.”

“You just think?”

“I don’t feel anything wrong here, do you?”

“I…  I can’t feel enough to know.”

Patrick dropped a hand onto Spike’s shoulder and squeezed.

“Then you must trust me.”

“You’ll warn me if things change?”

“I will.  You have my word.”

Another squeeze and Patrick was heading to join his wife and Xander.

“How close is it, Pádraig?”

Patrick turned back, once again considering the question.

“Closer than it was.”

“How close was it?”  Patrick held up his hands, palms facing one another, two feet apart.  “How close is it now?”  Patrick moved his hands to eighteen inches.

“Fast then,” Spike observed.

“Fast.”

“Should I…”

“Be vigilant, Spike.  You and Alex have the power to stay safe.”

“Power?”

“Strength.”

Spike swung away, unable to meet the earnest gaze.

“I’m not strong.  I proved it earlier.  Panicking over a few creaking timbers.”

“Don’t be ashamed,” Patrick told him quietly.  “After all you’ve survived…  You are a remarkable man.”

“Man,” Spike snorted, spinning back to confront Patrick.  “When do we get to start being really honest?”

“What do you want me to say?”

The vampire baulked at that, knowing they wouldn’t be able to go back if that much truth was aired.

“I don’t.”

With the now-customary affectionate smile, Patrick started to go.

“Bugger!" Spike exclaimed in sudden disappointment.  “I’m going to forget all this, aren’t I?”

Patrick hesitated in the doorway for a moment before turning back.

“No.  You need this.  Alexander, on the other hand…”  Patrick left that hanging but Spike understood.

“It scares him.”

“Yes.  And it’s your duty to protect him.  As he protects you.”

Accepting that with a brisk nod, the unsubtle instruction not to share this conversation with Xander, Spike watched Patrick leave, and found himself elated by the lingering memory.  They were safe.  A mere fraction of what Spike needed from Patrick, but it was a start.

Hearing the front door open, Spike hurried along to say goodbye to his friends, wrapping an arm around Xander’s waist as they waved goodbye, holding on and savouring the closeness when the MacDonald’s car was well out of sight and they were just staring into the night.

“Can we go to bed, love?” was requested, very gently.

Xander wasn’t fooling himself over what Spike was asking, and he wasn’t fooling himself that he was ready for it.  But he’d spent too long experiencing deep, aching loneliness to put up any kind of a fight.  No more spiting himself: Spike was unhappily resigned to a no, and was pleasantly surprised to receive a yes.

Xander let himself be led, cool fingers entwined with warm, up the stairs and to their bedroom, and the cool fingers moved up his arms to delicately trace the features of his face before slipping to the back of his head to keep him in place for the first of many tender kisses.  Xander wasn’t entirely sure he wanted to be seduced, or shown this much love, maybe it would be better to just go for the sex and get this bout over with.  Desensitisation, Spike would call it, and Xander’s hypersensitive spirit needed that right now, because he didn’t want to say no to Spike and that was the only other option.

He let himself be undressed, shirt and t, Spike heaping attention on the bared flesh as he went, on his knees and kissing better the scar that would never be kissed better, on his knees and touching Xander’s fly and the human was sucking in a breath that was not about desire in any way.  Spike sat back on his heels and looked up at his partner.

“Shall I stop?”

“When was the last time you did this for Angel?”

Spike didn’t waver, didn’t break eye contact for a moment.

“Let’s think…  The beginning of last century, or maybe the end of the one before.  Long time ago, whatever.”

“Did you enjoy it?”

“When I stopped fighting it.  ‘Cause you have to, sooner or later, in those circumstances.  Take teenage hormones and multiply them to the power of n, and that’s a demon’s lust.  Sometimes a fuck is everything.”

“Do you miss him?  Like that?”

“No.  I have you, and that’s better than anything I had in the past.”

“But you want me to hurt you like he did.”

“It’s not just about pain, Xander.  It’s about possession.  I want you to possess me.  You’ve spoken to me about belonging, and this is my belonging.  I want you to crave me, to take me in blood…”

“That’s what they did.”

“And if you took me that savagely I’d know it was about your desire for me, not about authority or punishment or retribution.  It’s different, Xander.  For you, I’d…  My blood is my offering to you.  Vampire, love.  All about the blood.  The greatest gift and the greatest sacrifice.”  Spike leant up and slid his arms around Xander’s waist, nuzzling and rubbing his face over hot skin.  “You take me hard and I’m not thinking of Angelus, not thinking of soldiers, I’m thinking that this is Xander and that Xander loves me, too intensely to restrain his passion, and he’s giving me the chance to show him how much I love him in return.  And now I understand myself better I want you to fuck me so I can give the demon his acknowledged sire and see where that takes me.”

“I can’t…”

“Yes, I know.  Not now, but…I’m prepared to wait.  So…”

Spike deftly unfastened Xander’s pants and began the gradual peeling of material, sad at Xander’s complete lack of arousal but understanding how fragile his lover was feeling at this point in time, and utterly convinced he could put that right.  Both the arousal and the fragility.

“I need a shower,” Xander said abruptly, stepping out of Spike’s grasp and zipping up his pants.

“No, you don’t.”

“I feel self-conscious enough at the moment, I don’t need…”

“Why?”  Xander shook his head and moved further away, gathering up his robe.  “Comparing yourself to him?”

Xander fell still, and after a brief pause he sighed miserably.

“I feel like I always have been.  First it was ‘cause of Buffy.  Cordy.  Even Willow felt obliged to point out how much…more he was.”

Spike rose and strolled over to Xander, running his hands over the human’s bare chest.

“Have I ever, ever been anything other than disparaging about him?”

“I guess not.”

“Don’t I tell you all the time how beautiful you are?”

“I guess.”

“Whether it’s traumatised tin-ribs or Sunnydale stocky, I love and admire every inch of you.”

“I still need to shower.”

“Then ask me to join you,” Spike instructed with a suggestive smile.

Less than five minutes later they were hot and wet and soapy.  And hard.  Wanting.  But despite that, Xander was still strangely reluctant to be more intimate with his partner, a fact that exasperated the human more than the vampire.

“God, I hate this.  What is the matter with me!  Maybe we should just do it.”  Xander turned and braced himself against the wall. “Fuck me.  Get it over with.”

“No, love.”  Spike’s hands kept on massaging.  “We will never be about getting it over with.”

“But maybe I’ll be okay afterwards, it won’t feel like such a big deal.”

“It is a big deal.  I want you to want me, not tolerate me.”

“I do want you.  I just…  I want you.”  Xander angrily slapped his hands on the tiles.  “What is the matter with me?”

Spike spun him around and studied his frowning face.

“You know what’s the matter.”  Xander twisted away; Spike brought him back.  “Say what you need to say and get it over with.  Then we’ll move on.”  A second attempt to escape and Spike was holding Xander hard enough to bruise, clutching his jaw and forcing Xander to face him.  “Say it, Xander.”  Xander glared, trapped and growing madder by the second.  “Say it.”

“You wanna hear it?  Okay.  But you listen and you don’t answer me back, okay?”  Spike nodded.  “Sometime during the last few months you have fucked with Angel.  I know.  And…and I think you regret it.  Maybe I deserve it for what I did with William and if that’s the case we’re even.  I’m not going to say another word about it, but if it happens again I will kill him.  I.  Will.  Kill.  Him.  And just like you hurting Jay if I take drugs, Angel dying will be your responsibility, and I won’t feel bad at all because you’ve been warned.”  Spike opened his mouth to speak.  “No!  I said you don’t answer me back.  I’m telling you I’ll kill him, and you know I can do it.  Just nod your head right now, and that’s your agreement that you will never be unfaithful to me again, and if you are you know the consequences.”

“Xand…”

“Just nod your head,” Xander demanded, viciously slapping a hand over Spike’s mouth.  “Agree.  You agree.”  Spike’s eyes welled with tears and Xander’s hand dropped away.  “For him?” Xander asked weakly, now sounding as hollow as he felt.  “You know how it feels to have you stand there in front of me and cry over losing him?”

“Seeing your pain.  If I cry it’s over hurting you.  With one careless word that somehow brought all this out.  It doesn’t make any sense.”

“But I know, Spike.”

“You don’t.  You don’t know, you fear.”  Spike swiped his hands over Xander’s soaked hair, combing it back from his face with his fingers before leaning forward to press their brows together.  “You’re wrong about me, love.  I promise.  You’re wrong.”

“I want to be wrong,” Xander whispered as anger gave way to upset, voice fracturing, body trembling as the pain emerged physically at last, tears pouring down his face to be lost in the spray of the shower.  “It hurts so bad.”

“You have to trust me.”

“I do.  How fucking stupid is this, because I do.  I trust you both.”

“Scared though.”

“Yeah,” Xander admitted hoarsely, creeping closer and fitting into Spike as they always fitted together.  Perfectly.  “That I’ll lose you.”

“It’s irrational.”  Xander simply nodded.  “And not this you.”

“Not…  You think…?”

“I think…”  Spike paused while he did.  “There’s something you’re not usually conscious of, but it affects you.”

“I don’t…”

“Let’s get washed up and out of here.  I need to tell you more about what happened when you were ill.”

“You said I wasn’t like me.”

“No, it was all pretty strange.”  Spike took a handful of shower gel and began massaging it into Xander’s skin.  “Tell me, does the word repossession mean anything to you?”

Xander shrugged.

“Beyond the obvious?”

“Oh, yeah.  This would be beyond the obvious.”

Repossession 98       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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