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Part 99 |
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“Don’t wake up,” Xander whispered as he pressed a kiss to
Spike’s temple. “Hmm?” “I’m trying not to disturb you, go back to sleep.” “Bed.” “Me leaving, you staying in.” “Why?” Spike peered through a half-open eye at Xander, who
was up and dressing in sweats. “Where?” “I thought I’d go out for a run in the countryside, take
Henry with me.” Spike stretched, threw back the covers, smiled as the scent
of their coupling wafted over him. “Wouldn’t you rather stay home and let me fuck your pretty
arse?” Xander swore under his breath. “Go back to sleep. I
need to loosen up, you need to rest.” “I can loosen you up wherever it’s necessary.” “Rest.” “I’d rather have you.” “Yeah, and now you’ve mentioned it I’d rather you had me,
but I promised Henry and we’re going out.” “I wish I could come along,” Spike said wistfully as he sat
up and wrapped his arms around his knees. “Don’t even think about it ‘cause it can’t happen. Don’t think about something that makes
you… Makes you sound like that.” “It was possible once, so who knows?” “We know. There’s no more gem of Amara, so let’s not
think about the whole potential vampire flambé scenario, huh?” “Think Max could find a way to give me an hour in the
daylight? Him or the mirror man?” Xander sat alongside Spike, rubbing his hand over a bony
knee. “This has always bothered me. You living with a human, trying to adjust to
a human clock. And you were telling me
off not so long ago for trying to fit in with you. Stop thinking about the day, think about the
night, that’s your natural time.” “But if Max…” “No, Spike, stop screwing around with your nature because of
me.” Spike sighed; Xander kissed the
knee he’d been rubbing. “I won’t be
long.” Xander began to rise but Spike caught his wrist and brought
him back down. When it became clear this
wasn’t for a groping session Xander looked questioningly at Spike. “How are you today?” “Fine,” Xander answered immediately. “Going to put any thought into that?” Xander thought. “I’m fine.” “How d’you feel about those blokes?” Xander thought again. “Satisfied. Maybe an
unhealthy amount of satisfaction. I feel
like they got what they deserved. All
the shit we’ve had to live with, Spike, it’s about time someone paid.” “I’m glad you’ve hung onto that, love, after what they put
you through…” “Me? It’s not about me. What they put you through. I’ve had it
spelt out to me what that time in hospital was like. I slept through it, you suffered. Whatever happened to those men, it can’t be
enough for the hurt they caused you.”
Spike’s wicked smile could not be kept at bay; the vampire gave in to it
and fell back onto the mattress. “And
I’m supposed to believe you had nothing to do with it?” “Come back to bed, love.
Want to fuck you.” “Guess I don’t have to ask how you are today.” “You’re the perfect sire.
Perfect. Now come to bed and let me show you how good
a master I can be.” “Later.” Xander stood
and looked at the headboard, still wonky despite numerous attempts to repair it
after Spike had wrecked it with the handcuffs.
“We’ll go out, pick a new frame.” “You want to take me bed shopping?” Spike asked
incredulously. “You do know I’ll need to
try them all out?” It was Xander’s turn for the wicked smile, and he only just
escaped the bedroom before the horny vampire jumped him. As Xander approached the top of the stairs,
Hamish let off a volley of barking somewhere in the vicinity of the
conservatory. Spike was with Xander in
less than a second. “What’s the matter with Hame?” “Well…” Xander mused, “either there’s a kid trapped down a
well, or he’s waiting to go out.” “That isn’t ‘out’ barking.” Xander noticed the tension in Spike’s body compared to a few
minutes previously, and he wrapped his arms around the naked vampire. “He’s probably defending us against some piece of foul
work. Like when that bird’s nest got
blown out of the tree onto the lawn and he went berserk. Bird’s nest.
Fowl work.” Spike did the eyebrow thing. “Suit yourself. Go get some sleep, I’ll take Henry out and
you can have some peace.” A few more minutes cuddling and kissing and Spike let
himself be herded back to bed. Very soon
he was listening as the Merc left the garage and reminding himself that Patrick
said they were safe in the house. But
Xander wasn’t in the house, he was in the car that was just turning out of the
drive, out of the ward. Spike leapt up,
hand reaching for the phone to call Xander and make him come back. But why? Spike asked himself the question and was
flummoxed by the lack of an answer despite his intense feelings. “The house creaks.
The dog barks,” he said aloud, grateful for the sound of his own
voice. “The vampire still falls to
pieces when the boyfriend’s not here.
Bloody pathetic.” He thought again of Patrick saying they were safe here. He thought of Patrick at the Partnership’s
last function, anxious and caring and hugging this unhappy demon. He thought of Angel… Callyoubastardwouldithurtyoutocall? …being so wary of Patrick and wondered… Wasn’t there something Angel had been meaning
to do, something about the family?
Pointless thinking about it because it wasn’t like Spike could ask, was
it? With the ignorant git playing sodding bloody buggering hard to get
and… Spike picked up the nearest phone
and hesitated, wanting contact with someone but not wanting to bother Xander yet again with his insecurities; not
wanting Angel to not answer although maybe Angel not answering was a good thing
because he’d revive Spike’s paranoia and Spike was so much happier without it;
not wanting to call Beth and become even more dependent on the MacDonalds. A glance at the clock told him Dawn was out
of the question, and “Hello, this is Rupert Giles. Unfortunately I am unavailable to…” Spike hung up on the answering machine and sighed. Stared at the handset. The sense of isolation came and went, and he
picked out another number. “Hey, Will,” the unrecorded voice answered almost
immediately. “Pretend I’m a building site and come and keep me company
for an hour.” The demand was met by Rafe’s soft laughter. “’Kay. Gimme…a
half-hour and I’ll be there.” Spike switched off the phone and left it on the bed, up and
into the shower and singing to mask the silence that was now as perturbing as
the creaking and barking. Rafe said
thirty minutes so that meant at least forty-five. That gave Spike time to give Max a call
post-shower. It wasn’t that he was
belligerently going against Xander’s advice for the hell of it, it was… Sometimes Xander just didn’t get it. For instance, the fact that there was no
escape route from the house during daylight hours. Xander would simply remind him he had the
car, he wouldn’t understand the security of knowing you only had to rely on
yourself to get out of danger. Fuck!
When had he started associating the house with danger? Fuck,
fuck, fuck! He had to put a stop to
that right now. Or right after he’d spoken to Max. Still singing, trying to remember fragments of the song Xander
had written for him, until the moment he called Max and explained what he
wanted. Max said he’d look into it but
not to build his hopes up. Regardless of
that, Spike’s hopes rose, and he went back to singing with a new vigour,
thoughts turning to the guitar he’d bought along with the new piano. Shouldn’t be hard to learn, he figured,
indulging in a few nauseatingly saccharine thoughts of them playing together
and… Playing,
should never have called it playing, another word I can’t use without getting
horny. Playing together. Whole other interpretation. Playing.
Fucking his honey. Being taken by
his sire. An exhilarating surge of
happiness and fulfilment at those thoughts and Spike virtually bounced into the
kitchen for a few rounds of blood before Rafe arrived. … As Xander ran he thought.
About what Spike had done for him, tracking down those men and arranging
for them to pay for their crime. Xander
was a little worried at his own lack of remorse for the deaths, but only a
little. The littlest little. This kind of natural justice appealed to the
darkness that ran through Xander, the darkness that Spike had frequently
alluded to but they’d never fully discussed.
Okay, Spike thought Xander had gone crazy during their time apart;
perhaps that was true and was the beginning of the darkness, his misery a
catalyst. It was hard to remember that
time now, an unwanted truth behind the far more desirable façade of having been
claimed during those five years, consort and claimed, and simply waiting for
his master to reappear. So, crazy? Not crazy,
just… The darkness was an ongoing
process. Such as the way he was
developing a flexible morality that allowed him to be honest with himself about
his appreciation of natural justice, and aiding his acceptance of Spike’s past
and possible future, something that would undoubtedly help them deal with the
consequences if – no, when – the chip
came out. Hard to forget Angel’s
not-so-subtle references to the way he put some wrong-doers to good use: that
was one vamp who wasn’t exclusively on bagged blood despite what Buffy
thought. And if Spike went the same
way… Bad people deserved a bad end. Natural justice. A tad too black and white? Maybe.
But this idealist had been infected with a heavy dose of realism. And as Xander was already pretty sure you
didn’t fuck around with a vampire then get to heaven… He stopped to catch his breath, pulled the water bottle from
his belt and took a long draught before squeezing the container and sending a
jet of water in Hamish’s direction, watching with untiring amusement as the dog
snapped the water out of the air. Couple
more squirts and the wolfhound was looking impatiently at Xander, wanting to
get on. “Yeah, okay, okay.
Human here, restricted to the two legs.
Worn-out legs. Really need to get
back in condition before Spike decides he wants a newer model. ‘Kay, let’s go.” Xander started to jog away along the grassy footpath. Hamish took a few steps in pursuit before
coming to an abrupt halt, hackles rising as he gazed around, head tilting up as
he focused on nothing in the air above them and gave a low growl. “Henry!” Xander called back to him. “C’mon, boy, let’s go. Home.
Spike. Find Spike.” A further snarl and whatever appeared to be bothering Hamish
was gone. With an accomplished woof the
dog gambolled after Xander. At home, Spike jumped as the house creaked. And creaked again. … Some time later the sound of claws scrabbling on wood floors
was rapidly followed by Hamish skidding into the kitchen. Rapidly followed by
an equally hyped Xander, who trapped a deliberately easily caught Spike against
the counter and proceeded to kiss him senseless. Until a throat was loudly cleared behind him
and Xander shot a foot into the air. “Gyah! Creepy big guy,”
he announced as he leapt around to meet Rafe’s poorly disguised grin. Rafe tried his best to look mortally wounded. “Hey. Not creepy.” “Yeah. As in…creepy
aroundy, yes, you are. In a
whole…stationary at the table, non-creeping way.” Xander let Spike sit him down and fetch him a soda before
the vampire turned his attentions to Hamish. “Good run?” “Who are you asking, me or Henry?” “Don’t ask me to choose the dumb animal, pet.” “He’s so lucky you’re here,” Xander told Rafe, who took a
look at his watch and rose. “And…his luck just ran out.
Wreak havoc, my friend, I’m outta here.” They saw Rafe to the door and then Spike had the grace to
look momentarily concerned before he was swept over Xander’s shoulder and
carried off in the direction of the pool, Xander throwing them both in and, the
moment he came up for air, starting on the removal of Spike’s clothes. “This is your idea of punishment, is it?” Spike asked as
Xander’s nails scratched over his growing cock through a layer of wet
denim. “You’re training me to be a very
bad vampire.” “Yeah, like you need training.” “I don’t mind the wet, but can we take this to hot wet,
love?” Spike asked, coaxing Xander to the side of the pool closest to the
shower. Xander lunged and took them both back under the water; this
time they came up kissing. “Hot wet,” Xander murmured.
“Good.” … “Why was Rafe here?” Xander asked as they post-shag
showered, washing each other with languid movements and pausing for the
occasional non-urgent kiss. “I called him.” “Why him?” “Fancied a chat, that was all. See enough of the others, don’t we?” “It’s not like I mind, I’m just a little surprised.” “Why? I’m very fond
of him. Since William.” “I know you, Spike.
Something was bothering you. And
you called someone other than me?” “It wasn’t like that.” Xander brought Spike face-to-face. “You call me. When
something bothers you, you call me.” “It wasn’t…” “I don’t care.
Whatever the circumstances, you come to me first. You know I’d’ve turned around and come
straight back home this morning, if that’s what you needed.” “Instead, this way, I got some company to take the edge off
the quiet, and managed to keep some self-respect at the same time.” “Hey, no!” Xander said crossly. “Needing me isn’t about losing your
self-respect.” Xander saw the blue of Spike’s eyes become rimmed with gold
as his anger flared. “I shouldn’t have to keep running to you with every
insecurity.” “That’s us, Spike. If
I feel bad I turn to you, I thought it was a mutual thing, this idea that we’re
here for each other.” “I refuse to be dependent on you.” Xander paused, inwardly seething. “Does that mean I have to change now?” “Why should you change?” “I feel that dependent on you. If it’s wrong…” “It’s not the same, Xander, you’re…you’re… You don’t need me in the same way, you can’t
understand.” “You think? You think
I’m not obsessed with you, with being with you?
When I’m away from you there isn’t an hour goes by that I don’t think of
you and take comfort from the fact you’re going to be here when I get
home. The times when you’re not…” Xander quickly dismissed that unpleasant
thought with a shake of the head. “I
don’t take it for granted, I’m always grateful when I walk in the door and
you’re here, because being without you is like…it’s like a slow death, losing a
little more of myself…” Any further words were smothered by an intense kiss from the
vampire. “Don’t talk like that,” he urged against Xander’s lips
before being prised away. “I need you. I don’t
know, maybe it is different to how you need me but it’s just as desperate. Can’t we be honest and weak with one
another? God knows it was such a relief
to give up trying to be the strong one.” Spike gave a wry smile. “That’s still you.
You’re the strength here.” Xander
sighed dispiritedly; Spike took his hand and kissed each pruned fingertip. “Let’s get dry, love.” At Xander’s inhalation he jumped in before
his human could protest. “We will talk
about this; I’m not cancelling the event, just changing the venue.” Xander nodded and turned off the water, immediately finding
himself being wrapped in a towel and cuddled.
He slumped into the embrace. “You must be disappointed in your sire.” Spike released a snort of laughter. “Wait until you’ve been insane for a century and some and
ask me again.” “I don’t want to keep doing this, the…who needs who more.” Spike shushed Xander and dried him off, leading him to the
kitchen for a hot drink, sitting them both at the table, hands held across the
wooden surface. “’Kay. Talk,” Spike
told Xander. Xander regarded Spike for a few minutes, either
assessing…whatever, or trying to read him. “What are you scared of?
The biggest scary?” Spike took a deep breath, exhaled slowly. If he’d hoped Xander would take the question
back in the face of his lack of enthusiasm for it, he was going to be
disappointed. “Biggest scary?” Spike answered at last. “You not being here.” “Hate that. I know it
too well and I hate that.” “It’s why being reliant on you fills me with dread.” “I’m not going anywhere though. Not if I can help it.” “But what if… With
all the weird happenings, I have to ask myself how well I could function if you
were…I d’know…taken away. If I needed to
cope alone in order to help you, save
you even. Without you I’m bloody
hopeless.” Xander squeezed Spike’s fingers. “If it came to it I know you’d be fine. Ever I need saving, you’re the guy I want on
my side. But this isn’t the Hellmouth,
nothing is…” “Uh-uh. No breaking
that rule.” Xander smiled at that, remembering when not tempting fate
was second nature. “This isn’t the Hellmouth, Spike. Not as dangerous.” “Maybe.” “Maybe,” Xander made a tiny concession toward Spike’s
anxieties about the weird. “But I feel
safe here, and… Has the house been
creaking?” “A bit, earlier.” “When Rafe was here?” “Yeah.” “What did he think?” “He was pretty non-committal about it, didn’t seem worried
though. He did offer us a place to stay
if the situation got too wearing.” “Wearing. Good way of
putting it. It’s not so much the noise
as…” “…the way it makes you jump out of your skin every time.” “Yeah,” Xander grinned.
“It’s gonna be funny in hindsight.” Spike returned his smile. “Shall we do what you said earlier? Get out for a while, find a new headboard to
wreck…” “Before we do, there’s something I’ve been meaning to tell
you and, as we’re sort of on the subject, this is as good a time as any.” Seeing Spike’s immediate alarm, Xander
pressed on. “Nothing bad, nothing to
worry about, I’m just expecting the weight of your disapproval to squash me
flat.” Xander paused and Spike glared
impatiently. “I don’t want you thinking
about me…not being here anymore. I don’t
want you upset. But if…if I wasn’t
here…” A fortifying breath. “The house is ours. It’s in both our names, and it’s legally
ours. Pat has given it to us but agreed
I could still pay for it. If anything
happens to me it’s yours.” “Why?” “Because this is your home, and I wouldn’t want you to worry
about any legal issues if I died.” Spike
clenched down on Xander’s fingers at that, and Xander yelped, pulling his hand
away from Spike and cradling it to his chest.
“Fuck, I think you broke something.” “Sorry, love, sorry,” Spike moved closer and gently took Xander’s sore hand back
into his care, simply stroking it for a while before tentatively feeling for
damage. “It’s okay, it’s easing up already.” Xander underplayed as he charily flexed his
fingers. “My fault. For that kind of conversation I should be
away from you. In another room
even. Or at work, on the phone. An e-mail, I should’ve…” Spike shut him up with a look. “Nothing’s broken.” “Good. Just an
owie. You get to kiss the owies
better.” Owies deferentially kissed
better, a subdued Spike let Xander pull him into his lap for a cuddle. “Hey, c’mon, sweetheart, you didn’t mean it.” “No,” Spike agreed miserably. “Don’t feel bad.” “S’pose.” Xander chuckled and let his non-painful hand roam, trying to
make his touches soothing, deliberately not taking advantage of a virtually
naked Spike in his lap. Spike leapt up
suddenly but returned within seconds, oil in hand, losing his towel and
straddling Xander’s thighs. “You don’t…” “Yes. I do.” “No,” Xander insisted more firmly. “You don’t.” “Let me,” Spike whispered remorsefully into Xander’s ear. “You’ve already said you’re sorry and that’s enough. We’re not going back to you hurting yourself
on me as some kind of penance, that’s—
God, you always knew. Without
knowing, you always knew.” “What?” “That’s what a childe would do. For his sire.” “But maybe this was just me wanting to take your mind off
your sore hand.” “Tell me you were going to let yourself come.” Spike wound his arms around Xander’s neck, pressing himself
as close as possible without actually smothering his partner. The actions, the silence, were answer
enough. Xander hugged Spike and
rocked. Everything was changing and yet
nothing changed. … Early evening found them lying side-by-side on a gothic
monstrosity of a bed in the middle of the nearest specialist bed store. “The bedroom’s big enough for it,” Spike said
pseudo-casually as he pictured himself inescapably bound to the posts while
Xander gave him a good seeing to. “It’s hideous.” “And that’s only one of its many good points.” Xander gave him a sideways look that positively resonated
with disbelief. “Going to explain that?” Spike took a breath then faltered. “Nah.” “If I don’t like it I guess it wouldn’t matter so much if
you wrecked it.” “There’s that,” Spike agreed. “It’d take you a while though. Sixteen gauge steel, the guy said.” “I’ll try really hard.” They grinned at one another, then Xander’s gaze flitted over
Spike’s shoulder to the object of his bed-frame desires. “The Mackintosh is fabulous.” “I’d prefer you to reserve that tone for me.” “Why can’t we have the Mackintosh?” “Wood, love. If I
break it…” “Right,” Xander reluctantly agreed, “right. Okay,” he sighed, turning his attention back
to the Cathedral bed they were sprawled over.
“I’d have to redecorate the room to go with it.” “Mmm. Something
wickedly seductive.” “I already have that,” Xander pointed out with another grin. Industrial throat clearing drew their attention to the foot
of the bed. “Can I be of any help, sirs?” an unwitting assistant
enquired as they looked in his direction. “Like I told the other drones, sod off and I’ll let you know
when I’m ready to put my hand in my pocket.” The young man flushed and disappeared at speed. “You don’t have to be so rude to them.” “And they don’t have to be so bloody irritating.” “They’re only trying to help. Be nice.” Spike adopted the injured expression he’d been practising in
the mirror. “I am nice. When it
matters.” And he leant across and ran
his fingertip over the gold X in Xander’s ear.
To his delight, Xander gave a shiver.
“I’m nice to you, aren’t I? When
it matters.” “Yeah, I guess you are.”
Xander grabbed Spike’s hand because the harmless yet intimate touch was
causing reactions he really didn’t want to share with the world at large. Enough of Spike’s blood in his system to
fast-fix his hand made him way too sensitive everywhere else. “I’ll get this, shall I?” “I’ll do it; I want to sort out the delivery time.” Spike stood and looked around. “Typical.
You can never find a sodding assistant when you need one.” As they strolled back to the car Xander surprised Spike by
putting an arm around his shoulders.
There were still shoppers in the street, but Xander didn’t appear to
care, so Spike simply reciprocated, arm around Xander’s waist. “You okay about the house?” Xander asked, adding quickly,
“Try to leave some ribs intact when you answer.” “I don’t want to think about it.” Xander nodded, understanding why: if he lost Spike nothing
else would matter. “We don’t have to discuss it, I just wanted you to know. For my own peace of mind.” “What do you think about what Patrick said the other week?”
Spike very deliberately changed the subject.
“About having a break away from here.” “I’d like that. Round
about this time last year I was in “Why “I want to see where you started out, where William grew
up. And we could visit Giles. We could go to “Why not?” “The gallery.” “Sod the gallery.” “No.” Xander started
walking again. “It’s going to be really
important to you, we can’t just up and leave.” “That’s not a reason, that’s an excuse.” “When are you starting with sittings again?” Spike sighed… “No idea.” …and waited for the usual trump card, which would be… “Cora’s still waiting.” Thankfully, for Spike, they’d arrived at the car. Xander surprised him again by handing over
the keys. “What’s up?” “Nothing,” Xander assured him, “just a bit tired.” Spike scrutinised his partner in the
unflattering glow of the street light.
Xander smiled. “Just tired.” Spike kinked an eyebrow speculatively and watched Xander
dismiss him and climb into the passenger seat.
Xander looked well, better than well, he was fit, healthy, happy,
just…tired. One mention of losing him
and Spike was in a panic. He joined
Xander, started the Merc, and drove carefully,
taking frequent glances in the human’s direction; five minutes into the journey
Xander was dozing, and Spike was doing some more panicking. He worried about Xander and he worried about the family,
because he knew about connections whether or not he could define them. Patrick had seemed thoroughly exhausted the
last few times Spike had seen him. Hard
to tell Jake’s natural state as he appeared to be permanently hyped by the
drugs he crammed into his system, a practice that even Spike knew was
accelerating so why wasn’t someone doing something about it? Rafe looked fine, the women looked fine, but
looks could be very deceptive, and he wondered if the whole bunch of them were
this bone-weary beneath the fresh faces.
Fresh faces excepting Patrick, who looked about a thousand-and-one. Even if Spike hadn’t cared about these people
he’d be forced to care because of Xander; but he did care. And if he were part of the connection why
wasn’t he feeling this exhaustion? Not
that he wanted to because he had to be strong for Xander. Xander… He glanced sideways at his peacefully
snoozing companion. Spike ran a hand
over Xander’s thigh and let the warmth seep into his chilly fingers. Xander stirred, put his hand over Spike’s,
and relaxed again. Overreacting. Thrown by the
house business and overreacting. The
Partners would be tired, the amount of work they’d got through in the last
couple of months. And I really screw Xander up.
Make him lose sleep, miss meals, send him bloody insane with suspicions
over the old man. “Just tired,” Spike said aloud, and it sounded reasonable
enough. He told himself. Repeatedly. Home, and Xander was soon awake and out of the car, yawning
and stretching, greeting Hamish as he bounded around the side of the
house. With a playful whoop and a
baritone woof, the two took off together, racing down the drive and back again,
wolfhound by now being dragged along by a piece of branch he was grimly hanging
onto as Xander attempted to free it.
Spike leant against the Merc and watched them fooling around before
swooping in to join them, tackling Xander and rolling across the grass with
him, Hamish in a fast, loud, rollicking pursuit that swiftly turned into a
protective snarling as the night’s first Fan Club vampire approached the gates. Spike and Xander strained to see past Hamish. “Haven’t seen Brad lately,” Xander said distractedly. “Hopefully I got through to him last time I saw him.” “You didn’t stake him?” “No, I didn’t,” Spike replied with patience he didn’t
feel. “After he made a move I told him
to declare himself Master of the asylum, and leave us alone.” “When you say he made a move…?” “Amorous not homicidal.” Xander sat up crossly. “Little bastard.
After I’ve been so good to him.” “Now can I stake the irritating little runt?” “Rip his fucking head off for all I care.” “Sounds good. I’ll
take a run out later and see if I can eliminate your competition.” Spike chuckled at the look of distinct
non-amusement he received from his partner.
“Poor love. What you have to deal
with. Not your fault you fell for
someone as irresistible as yours truly.”
Another glare and Spike sat up and shuffled close. “Shall I have you out here, right in front of
them? Proclaim you my consort with blood
and spunk and…” “Shut up, Spike.” Spike sprung to his feet and offered Xander a hand up,
drawing the human to his feet and into waiting arms. “Still tired, love?” “Bit.” “Want to go to bed for a while?” “With you?” “I suppose I could keep you company.” “And that would make me less tired, how exactly?” Spike grinned and his attempt at a kiss was
swatted away. “I have a question.” Spike anticipated a non-sequitur moment, and
cocked a quizzical eyebrow. “When the
bed was cold you used to get into my warm spot the moment I got up. Now we have the blanket the whole bed’s warm
but you still do that. Why?” “You have your own warmth,” Spike explained, closing in to
nuzzle Xander’s neck affectionately.
“There’s nothing as good as Xander-warmth. Smells bloody wonderful too.” “The warmth smells?” “Course. All heat
smells different, haven’t you noticed?” “No. But I’ll… Wait, are you teas…” Spike shook his head. “I’ll pay more attention in future.” “Try after you’ve had plenty of my blood, that’ll perk up
your senses.” A slow, perfectly contented smile lit Xander’s face as he
gazed at Spike. Then an inner thought
put a new spark into it. “ “Oh, right,” Spike replied, suitably bemused. “ “I’ll make a couple of calls, we’ll take a night flight, and
we’ll go see that waterfall wall.” Spike thought for a moment and the reference fell into place
– a conversation at “ … The light on the answering machine was flashing when they
got indoors. Xander pressed play and
listened, pretending not to notice Spike freezing on the spot or the sudden
battle of tension, anger and relief in his expression when Angel’s voice
emerged. There was no mention of the
worrying absence, Angel simply began one of his rambling explanations about the
latest demon to need slaughtering in their vicinity. “For you,” Xander told Spike easily, unaffected and
unsurprised by Angel’s continued existence, and with a yawn he wandered off to
the kitchen. Spike watched Xander go, appreciative of his acceptance and
understanding, before stabbing at the buttons on the machine in an irritable
attempt to shut Angel up. Grandsire silenced, Spike joined Xander, taking a mug of
warm blood from him with a thankful smile. “That for tonight?” Xander asked, nodding in the general
direction of the answering machine. “I didn’t really listen.
I’ll call him back. If—” Xander looked at him questioningly. “If you don’t mind.” Xander gave a bemused laugh at that. “I don’t mind.” “Are you sure?” “I trust you, Spike,” Xander gently assured his lover, and
rapidly found himself the focus of a heartfelt embrace. … After dinner, and calls were dealt with: fast and
enthusiastic about Xander calmed post-call Spike and they spent a couple of
hours in front of the TV, not really watching, more smooching to televisual
accompaniment. Xander finally dozed,
jerking awake a couple of times, until Spike kept him awake to ask something he
wasn’t sure he wanted the answer to. “What do you dream, Xander?” “Umm…just… Dream
stuff, nonsensical dream stuff.” “Recurrent nonsensical dream stuff?” Xander considered. “There’s… Some. Some are pretty much recurrent.” “Tell me.” “There are three…what are they? Ideas?
Themes? Images? Three of them stuck in my head from my dreams,
and… What do you dream?” “Answer the question.” Xander paused again for thought. “I have this dream about what I did to you – don’t say a
word now, or I won’t go on. When I cut
you open. It’s a nightmare not a
dream. Recurrent but less so
recently.” Xander chose not to look at
Spike at all until that confidence was shared and done with. “There’s another that’s…kinda nice, but
leaves me feeling…” Xander mentally
groped for the exact sensation. “Lonely. No, that’s…
Lost. Lost, maybe that’s a better
description.” Spike suspected he knew
this one but kept quiet and waited as Xander closed his eyes and
concentrated. “I’m on a hill, and it
overlooks the sea, and I’m watching for something. Someone.
It’s such a beautiful place, I’ve never seen anywhere like it, and…it’s
so vivid, I can even smell the grass and the flowers. Beautiful, but it’s so damn cold because of
the wind. I’m happy there, I feel
peaceful, but… There’s
something…unresolved. And I feel… Lost,” Xander concluded with a dissatisfied
sigh. “But I don’t mind that one. The other…” Xander gave a shudder and Spike snuggled closer. “Tell me, love.” “It’s…” Xander
shifted uncomfortably at the memory, pulling Spike closer still, using his
lover as a shield against his own recollections. “Fire.” “Fire?” “I don’t understand the context. I have a healthy fear of fire, but not
obsessive or irrational, so… Why? Why fire?” “Your folks?” “I wondered about that, but it’s not the fire aspect of
their deaths that ever caused me particular grief.” “Anything to do with me?” “With you it’s a safety thing, and we’ve got that
covered. I never see you being hurt by
it. Apart from when I cut you, when I
dream of you now, it’s all good. It’s
good.” “Yeah?” Spike asked with a smile, momentarily distracted. “Yeah,” Xander smiled back. “Good?” “Uh-huh.” Quick kiss and they tucked their silly, besotted smiles away
for later. “In these dreams, is there something you can see that’s on
fire?” “No, it’s just fire.
Pure fire. Like my head is full
of it.” “Sounds…” Spike began uneasily. “It is,” Xander agreed in the same tone. “It doesn’t bother me, but it…bothers me.” “When you have this dream in future I want you to tell me.” “Sure, but… You think
there may be a pattern or something?” “What I think is that you sharing will make it less
bothersome. Xander thought about that and nodded. “I’ll do that.
Y’know… Just this much has made
it feel a little better. Telling you.” “Always tell me.
Anything that makes you feel bad, you tell me.” Xander remembered their earlier conversation about need and
reliance; he chose not to revive it. But
Spike had remembered too and smiled apologetically. More canoodling until Hamish stretched out of snooze some
time later, sat very deliberately in front of Spike and stared. And stared.
And stared. “Yes, all right!” Spike eventually succumbed. “We’re going out.” He stood up to retrieve his boots before
turning to Xander. “Want to join us for
the kill?” “Mind if I don’t? I’m
still tired, I don’t think I’ve caught up with the last couple of weeks
yet.” Spike stopped lacing and looked at
Xander with apprehension. “It’s okay,
you go, take Henry, I’ll catch up on some sleep and be awake for you later.” “Just tired.” “Yeah. If there were
anything else I’d tell you.” “And,” Spike sighed, “you’re being kind enough not to drum
in why you’re so tired.” “Work was tough…” “I made it all worse.” “That’s done. Done
and finished with. But, yeah, that wore
me down a little.” Spike snorted. “A lot.
But tired is all. I’ll get some
sleep and patrol with you tomorrow night.”
Xander caught what he’d said and rolled his eyes. “Patrol.
You can take the Scooby out of Sunnydale…” “Take the demon magnet out of Sunnydale,” Spike said under
his breath. Not quite under enough. “Demon magnet was always a joke, Spike.” They exchanged a glance, Xander searching and
Spike unreadable. “Wasn’t it a joke?” “I thought at first they were doing it on purpose – Grandpa
and Buffy - letting the nasties through deliberately, giving poor old Spike and
his nonexistent self-esteem something to work with.” “It’s not that?” “Don’t think so.” “It’s not me, though.
That’s still a joke, right?
Right, Spike?” “Beginning to think it’s me,” Spike grumbled, successfully
not answering Xander’s question. “What
with the bloody Fan Club.” “What did he do?
Bradley. You said he made a
move.” “Pathetic tosser. In
every way.” “You mean…?” “Turned up one night and offered himself, I told him to fuck
off or I’d dust him, then me and Hame left him to wank in private.” “Will you kill him?” “If he carries on being a pest.” “No, I mean…will you kill him. For me.
Kill him.” Spike looked at Xander in surprise. “Thought you were kidding earlier.” “No.” Xander was
deadly serious. “Make him an
example. Let them know you belong to
me.” With a growl, Spike made the hyper-space move, the one where
he was across the room before Xander saw him take a step, and he pounced on his
lover. “Consort,” he stated gleefully, “Sire,” morphing into game
face before proceeding to nick Xander’s throat with his fangs and lick up the
blood as he purred pleasurably. “Oh, damn…” Xander moaned.
“Now you’ll have to fuck me before you go.” “Yeah,” Spike agreed as he ground himself into Xander’s
hip. “Damn.” … It was almost the mirror image of
a moment Xander had gone over in his mind a thousand times: Spike coming home,
full of enthusiasm for the latest fight and exaggerating every detail. As in the past, Xander was happy to listen
and happier still that his partner was in one piece, letting Spike herd him
into the kitchen for more tall tales as blood was prepared, ever the captive
audience, although now also to a dog that demanded fuss and food and fuss and
water and fuss that it was a joy to give. Just briefly the scene was a
perfect reflection of a few life-altering minutes, with Xander leant back against the counter and enjoying the account,
reacting suitably to the vampire’s telling and re-telling of the night’s
events, but now when Spike came to Xander, there was no hesitation, no
unrequited desire; the ‘want me’ in Spike’s eyes was acknowledged and
reciprocated, still transparent but no longer desperate. A familiar move as Spike leant in so that their entire bodies touched,
letting Xander’s strong form take the weight, and he nuzzled Xander’s neck. “Love you, Xander.” Spike’s
mouth crept up to Xander’s ear, licking a meandering trail, and he groaned at
the delicious flavour of his lover.
“You’re so. Damned. Hot.” Once upon a time the words would have been too much, now they were not
enough, and Xander’s hands slid over the vampire’s hips, grasping his ass and
grinding their bodies together. Lost. No way back. He tilted his head, offering himself to the
cool mouth that was tormenting him. No regrets or lonely frustration now, but blood and bed and hours of delight
in each other’s company and body and pleasure. This, Xander knew, was how it should always have been.
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