Spike sat quietly by the fire, running his hands constantly over the length of the leather tails.  It was his first present from Xander.  It was such a surprise for him, never knowing what truly went through is boys mind.  He always managed to take care of him.  He was such a perceptive little prat, but he loved him all the more for it.  He can't think back far enough to pinpoint the moment in started for them.  It just happened.

He's always had someone to care for.  First it was his beloved mother, and then Drusilla.  He never was in control of his life.  He took care of them, and he provided for their every need.  Even Angelus did it in his own way.  They shaped his life.  They guided his life. But they were never his.

He supposes now that they cared for him.  He was always the one in control, but always with respect to their whims.  Perhaps Xander's known this on some level.  They'd never dwelled much on their pasts.  They didn't need to share that part of themselves when all they had to do was look.  There are times he can see the light shining in Xander's eyes.  It's that spark of recognition from a soul who understands all to well. 

What he has with Xander is so much more than anything he's ever had before.  Xander completes him.  He takes care of the boy, but it's always returned in small ways.  Xander gives him his sense of self, and in a way a sense of humanity.  He submits to him every night.  He shares his life, and whatever he has to give is for the taking.  He knows the ridicule they would both face should they be found out.  But somehow it no longer mattered.

Xander always found a way to comfort him.  He always knew when he needed the kindest of sentiments, or a lashing for spiteful words.  He allowed him the peace of letting go.  He never had to be without the comfort of a warm body.  It was hard for him to be so alone, to be the last of his line.  He was the heir apparent by default to the Order of Aurelius because of Drusilla's disabilities.  However, he came to full power when Angelus became a warrior for the light.  They were all gone to him now.  All he had was Xander.  All he ever needed was Xander.  Xander was home for him now.

It took them a long time to work out the dynamics of their relationship.  They both knew neither hatred nor cruelty should back their actions.  Xander had opened the door during the time he first lived with him in his parent's basement.  His boy would work so carefully tightening his bonds.  Tight enough to cause pain, but never so much he couldn't stand the night.  It threw him for a loop for the boy to care so much that he would force him to submit in such a way.  He hadn't ever thought it was something he understood.  How could such an innocent ever understand what he had done in the eyes of a demon?  He took care of him.  It was the first step to courting him.  That's why he had left.  It hurt too much to stay.

Xander had other ideas.  He let him go, but not for long. He always made sure he was fed.  He never wanted for anything if it was within his power to provide it.  Xander included him in everything the group did.  He took him on patrols, allowing him the outlet he craved.  They grew closer in that time.  It wouldn't be until they lost Buffy that everything changed.

He retreated into himself.  It hit him so hard to lose her.  It wasn't so much the feelings he had for her, but what she represented.  They all lost it for awhile there.  It was Xander who pulled them out of it.  He brought them back together to fight again.  They needed to start living again.

It wasn't until Christmas that year that he had finally had enough.  Just fighting the good fight again wasn't enough for him.  He needed more.  One night Xander presented himself.  It had been a long night of fighting for the group.  He went back to his crypt and lost himself, or at least he tried.  Xander followed him.  He watched him silently from the door, just inside and leaning against the wall.  He watched him for such a long time, happy to be ignored.  He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then made his move.

He slowly walked over, unbuttoning his shirt as he went, and let it drop where it may.  He paused only to toe of his shoes, kicking them off to a corner.  By the time his hands dropped to the button of his pants, he'd managed to gain his full attention.  Even the parts of him that'd not had reason to stand in a long time.

He pushed his pants off and let them drop to his ankles.  He stepped out of them, and dropped to his knees.  He reached behind him for his pants and reached into the pocket to pull something out.  It was so dark he hadn't known what it was until Xander held it up for his inspection.  He dropped his eyes to the floor and spread his knees.  He raised his arms to present it, the black leather tails of the flogger draped over his fingers.  A bright red bow stood out and the hilt, standing out in stark contrast as a gaudy reminder of just what day it was.  Kneeling before him was the first Christmas present he had received in over fifty years.

They started doing scenes together from that night on.  At first, it was only after rough patrols.  Then it was after the meetings they'd both been dismissed early from.  After a month he gifted Xander with his collar.  From then on, it was every night for them.  Though the more intimate aspects of their relationship developed at a slower pace, they did eventually make the move to live together. 

With a week of moving in together, things came to an abrupt halt.  Such is life in the Hellmouth.  But this time, it was his fault.  They both knew he was holding back.

The driving force behind his own passions had always been his lust for blood, but it was also his weakness with Xander.  He couldn't offer Xander the full release he so craved.  He could never allow himself to be the Master that Xander wanted, and needed.  Without an outlet for his bloodlust, it was too easy to lose control in their sessions. 

Even making love was pushing the envelope, but to bring in their toys was too much.  Too many times had he come close to taking his rage out on his human, only barely managing to temper his emotions enough not to break his fragile young lover.  That's why they had eventually ended doing their scenes together.  It frustrated them both for him to have to hold back.

In the past he may have been the one in control, but with another demon he didn't have to worry so much for their safety.  Now though, now he couldn't help but long for what he had lost.  To live with Xander meant he had to submit himself to the torture of never giving his all.  He couldn't live with himself if he ever hurt Xander because of his carelessness.  He loved him to much for that.

It never was about the chip.  Even if it did still work, he could only imagine how much damage he could do before the chip fired.  He and Xander had tested that often enough in their better rows.  But with his bloodlust, he couldn't allow himself the luxury of taking control anymore.  He hadn't seen a solution for them.  Leave it to Xander to find a way.  It had been there all the time, his first gift from Xander.  The next year, he got it presented to him again in a different light.

He woke up to a cold bed.  He couldn't move.  He pried his sleepy eyes open and looked up to see his arms tied to the headboard.  He looked down, past the big red bow tied around his cock, to see his ankles tied to the posts at the end of the bed.  It had been a month since their last scene together, and he was confused.

At a soft sound from the doorway, he looked up and caught his breath.  There was Xander naked save for his collar, and in his hand was the flogger he'd first been presented with.  He closed his eyes and let out a breath he'd been holding for far too long.  It was a relief he didn't know he needed.  Xander had found a way to save him again.

His boy was always finding ways to care for him.  For that he would always love him.  A soft touch to his shoulder brought him out of his musings.  He looked up to find the warm eyes of his lover smiling down at him.  Xander bent down to brush a soft lingering kiss on his lips.  He raised a hand to caress the warm skin.  He had finally found his own beloved.