ROAD TRIP 1
by Maz

Xander stood in the middle of the road gazing at the diner in front of him. The large windows were dusty, no curtains hung behind them and the gold and cream lettering across each one was old and scratched. But the cardboard sign hanging inside the door read 'Open' and there was a faint scent of coffee in the air. For a moment he contemplated walking on to find something better - but the sun was hot on the back of his neck and looking around he saw that he was already running out of town, after his short walk from the motel. One more glance up and down the street, then he braced himself and took the last few steps to the front door.

It was like stepping back in time - the chrome edged serving counter, the red plastic covered bench seats, the blue and white chequered tiles on the floor. The bell jangled behind him as he walked across the narrow room and took a table next to the window. Relaxing against the padded seat back, he picked up the menu and looked down it. There was a time when he'd lived on this kind of food, now it qualified as a treat, so he determined to shake off the strange mood he’d been suffering from him since he woke up, and enjoy it.

The middle-aged waitress in her would-be-cheerful peach coloured uniform arrived with the coffee pot. Looking up he smiled as she placed a cup in front of him. "Could I have a House Special Burger please..." reading her name tag, "Ms Wendy?" he asked. 

Her voice was a husky drawl, rough and raw, like she smoked too much and slept too little. The thought was momentarily amusing, as Xander imagined all night sessions in a smoky jazz club in the basement of the diner. "House Special?” She didn’t bother with her pen and pad. “Sure, we can probably do that. Good protein diet, that is. Can't beat it. I live on them.” His attention caught by that, he looked at her properly. Her face was drawn and tired under overly thick make-up and her fair hair was unfashionably long for her age, hanging over her shoulders in two loose pony tails, but she managed a slight smile in return – being the professional hostess, offering welcome to the stranger. "Want fries with that?" she asked.

Xander nodded and watched as she walked away, thinking her gaunt frame was no good advertisement for the house special, if she lived on them. But he also noticed the hitch she gave to her shoulders, straightening her back, as if she was trying to pull herself upright and walk taller, as if she were fighting a loosing battle against some force that was grinding her down - but fighting on, none the less. Shaking his head at his own whimsical imagination, he turned to look out at the street. Like Wendy herself, the town of Fairclough was anything but fair. It had a run-down air, as if the life had been slowly squeezed out of it, leaving only the husk. Half the buildings on the main street were boarded up. Paint peeled from the walls and the only supermarket had metal grids over both doors and windows. All in all, a thoroughly depressing sight, enough to make anyone morbid. Xander had no idea why he was here.

When they arrived just before sunrise, he'd been surprised by Spike's decision to stop. They'd rented a room for the day with no questions asked, not even a raised eyebrow, and Spike had left Xander to unpack while he took a last short stroll outside. It was true he was a little tired and Spike would have noticed that, but it was not as if he couldn't have continued to drive for an hour or so while Spike stayed out of the sun. They could have gone on, found a quiet place in the desert and slept together on the mattress in the back of the van. They'd not exactly been pushing themselves. This leisurely road trip, interspersed with week-long breaks in expensive hotels, was nothing like the trip he had attempted after high-school. He smiled to himself; somehow he didn't resent the difference. Living with Spike had really spoiled him for slumming it. The occasional day sleeping in the overly hot van was more of an adventure than a hardship - almost like the dreams of camping out he had shared with Jesse when they were young, before they learned, in their different ways, the true dangers of being out after dark – getting hot and sweaty with Spike was never a hardship.

They had been touring through much of the South and West for the last three months. But now they were heading home and it would be good to get back. He really felt he had seen enough straight, flat roads and big skies to last him for a while. The cities were fun, but the crowded streets and steep hills of San Francisco would be a welcome return. As he drank his coffee and waited for his burger, he mused on the definition of home. San Francisco had felt like home almost immediately. Growing up in a small town like Sunnydale, he revelled in the vibrancy and life of a cosmopolitan city. There was so much to do and see, and with Spike as his guide he had discovered the attractions of art galleries, street markets and libraries, to complement his established love of movies and picture books. Spike introduced him to all these things, guiding his education and his tastes. He had also introduced him to exotic food and exotic clubs, and exotic sex - some of it in the museums, theatres and clubs they visited, much of it at home - where Spike taught him tricks he hadn't dreamed of in his secret, teenage fantasies. Yet with Spike at his side he never felt out of place, even in the most outré or high-brow establishments. Spike made sure he was always dressed appropriately and knew how to behave. And he never made him feel stupid - as he showed Xander how to look, to see the way Monet produced light from solid colour, or how to hear the imagery behind the rhythm of Coleridge's words. And the loft apartment was all that Spike had promised: comfortable and private, right in the heart of the city. They had designed it together and there were days, even weeks, when they never felt the need to leave. When they did venture out, the society Spike introduced him to was both thrilling and comforting. He had found himself mixing with humans and demons of every type. Under Spike's tutelage, he had eaten gathrap eggs in olive leaves with a party of Chillney demons – without embarrassing himself; listened to a debate on the existence or non-existence of the soul at the Philosophical Society; and watched a display of sexual acrobatics by a troupe of dancers involving handstands, back-flips and contortions, culminating in a tableau where all six of them seemed joined by every limb and orifice, which had left him both wincing and envious of their limber, apparently boneless bodies. Through it all he had found himself, for the first time in his life, surrounded by open-minded people who had welcomed him into their midst, not only for Spike's sake, but for his own. Some people who shared their tastes, shared an understanding of the dynamics of domination and submission, who appreciated and applauded his active gift of love to Spike. Others who, like Spike himself, seemed determined to experience everything the world had to offer, and were only too eager to introduce Xander to it as well. Xander had learned to be cautious of some of those.

He shoved his hand in the pocket of his jeans and fingered the little gold padlock. It would be good to have that back where it belonged, too. Spike had taken it off his collar after New Orleans and the fourth fight its presence at his neck had caused. The collar could now pass for an innocuous, if expensive, necklace as long as no one looked too closely. Xander wasn't sure he liked that, but he did understand. There was no point in having their enjoyment ruined by fights, just because some people disapproved of their lifestyle. Easier and more relaxing to use camouflage. But, next trip he was going to see if he couldn't persuade Spike to go to Paris again - Paris, France. And maybe back to Venice. There his collar may raise the occasional eyebrow, but the circles they moved in, people were generally too polite to comment. Plus, if they did, he had the advantage of not understanding them. Thanks to the other, more formal lessons Spike insisted on, both his French and his Italian were better than high school standard, but they still had their limits. Or maybe Bangkok, as Spike had suggested. There were worlds within worlds there, he said, which would be fun to explore - educational fun. Since it seemed to be Spike's mission to broaden Xander's mind in every possible direction, who was he to argue? He smiled to himself as he remembered the repressed and nervous child he had been only a few years ago and took another sip of coffee. Leaning back in his seat, he stretched luxuriously, supremely content with his life - proud of his supple body and proud of what he could do with it (and with his new education) to bring pleasure to his vampire, and to himself. He had changed so much, grown up so much, seen and experienced so much in Spike's care that he sometimes had difficulty relating to his own memories. Spike trained him, taught him, encouraged and loved him and he was secure in the knowledge that even now, he was still only standing on the threshold of what he could be. Without breaking him, Spike was educating him in the sophisticated arts of submission and devotion. There was nothing he wouldn't do for Spike. He'd follow him to the ends of the Earth on his hands and knees, if that was what Spike wanted. Xander laughed at his own hyperbole and sighed happily - thankfully, Spike didn't want anything so extreme. Yes, it would be good to get home and just spend a few months being still.

The sound of footsteps called his blank gaze away from the empty street and back to Wendy, who was approaching with his tray. He smiled again, attempting to raise some additional reaction from her tired face.

"That looks good," he said, as she placed the plate in front of him. "Thank you. Umm... I don't suppose you can tell me the time, can you?" he asked.

She glanced up at the wall behind him. "It's almost half past four," she said.

"Thanks. So... kind of quiet here, eh?" he smiled again, encouragingly.

"Yeah. Quiet place. There's nothing here, really. Not a place you want to stay."

"Huh. O-kay." He drew the word out slightly so it almost made a question, as he picked up a fry.

"You want more coffee?" she asked, lifting the coffee pot slightly in invitation and avoiding the opportunity to expand on her words. He nodded his thanks and she reached across to his cup. As she did so her short sleeve pulled up exposing her inner arm and he saw the twin scars of a bite. For a second shock held him frozen, then he grabbed her hand bringing her to a halt and causing coffee to splash across the table. She gasped in surprise, instinctively trying to pull away. Following his gaze, she saw what he was staring at and pulled harder, freeing herself at the cost of more spilt coffee. Her face screwed up in panic as she dragged the sleeve down to cover the marks and her voice took on a frantic edge. "If you know what that is, you're either exactly where you want to be, or you'll get out of town quick," she said. "I won't tell anyone, I promise. So it's your choice," and she turned and almost ran away, around the counter, disappearing back into the kitchen.

Suddenly Xander decided he didn't want to be here. He wanted Spike. Dropping some money on the table, he grabbed a dozen napkins from the dispenser, wrapped the burger, stuffed a handful of fries in his mouth and ran for the door.

Outside the street was bright and empty and utterly normal and as soon as he felt the hot, afternoon sun hit his face he began to relax. Glancing briefly over his shoulder at the cardboard 'Open' sign, still swinging from its cord with the force of his exit, he even gave a snorting laugh at his own foolishness. But he didn't slow down.

*****

The motel was a sprawling, one storey building with dirty white walls and rows of doors opening onto a covered veranda, which had once been pale blue but now looked almost grey. Spike had obviously just woken up and was sitting naked on the edge of the bed reading a note when Xander slipped through the door. Then he was on his feet and across the room, the paper falling to the floor. He gripped Xander's shoulders firmly. "You okay, Pet?" he asked, giving Xander a little shake. "Your heart's going twenty to the dozen. What happened?"

Xander sagged forward into Spike's arms, the magic of Spike's proximity immediately calming his irrational fears. "I'm okay," he panted. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you. I just wanted to get something to eat. You were still asleep. I left you a note."

"Yes, Pet. I got it. So what happened? What's wrong?"

Xander pulled away and carefully placed the burger on the dresser. He sighed ruefully, relaxing fully now that he was back safe and slightly surprised at his own reaction to Wendy. Clasping his hands behind his back, he straightened his shoulders and bowed his head. "I'm sorry, Master Spike. I just sort of panicked."

Spike's eyes narrowed in thought as he looked at him, at the mess of napkins on the dresser and back at him again. He walked behind Xander and picked it up. "Come on, Pet," he said. "Come sit down and tell me what's up."

Xander toed off his shoes and socks, unzipped and dropped his jeans and pulled his T-shirt over his head; comfortably naked he followed Spike to the bed, kneeling at his feet. Spike put the burger on the nightstand and scooted back to lean against the headboard. He reached out and pulled Xander up to sit between his legs, up against his chest and clasped his arms around Xander's waist, giving him a quick hug. "First you eat. Then you tell me," he said, passing Xander the burger.

Xander laid the burger on his thigh, opened it and started to eat. Spike's hands were cool and soothing on his stomach and chest and he began to feel slightly foolish as he thought about what he had seen. But the burger was good, so he concentrated on eating first, enjoying the petting and the feel of Spike's naked chest against his back. When he finished, Spike handed him a glass of water and he drank deeply. He let his head fall back onto Spike's shoulder.

"I woke up about an hour ago and I was hungry for something other than bread and cheese,” he explained. “I was going to go and get something from the supermarket. Something I could eat here. But it looked all closed up and unwelcoming, so I went to the diner." He glanced up at Spike's face, feeling shadows of the earlier discomfit rising again. "This town is strange, Spike. There's almost no one on the streets. There's hardly a car moving and no one walking. I think I was the only customer in the diner. The waitress... It was when she reached out to give me more coffee that I saw it. She had a bite scar on her arm, right here." He touched his own inner arm, just below his armpit. "I kind of grabbed her hand and she saw what I was looking at. And she said... she said if I knew what it was I was either exactly where I wanted to be, or I should get out of town. Then she ran away.

"Master Spike, I don't like this place. You know I don't panic easily, but Wendy... she was odd and this town gives me the creeps. There's something weird here." He paused as a thought occurred to him. "Is that why you wanted to stop?" he asked. "Do you know what it is?"

Behind him, Spike sighed. "Yes, Pet. I think I do. I wasn’t certain, but I think this means it's true. I'm sorry I didn't tell you. I heard rumours, and when I saw how near we were, I wanted to stop and see. Thank fuck for your good instincts. You were safe in the sun, but it's good you didn't go into any dark places. I should have warned you. But, it was just rumours. I didn't really believe 'em, y' know?"

Xander snuggled comfortably back into Spike's arms and grinned up at him. "No, I don't know. Are you going to tell me?"

Spike squeezed him tightly. "Cheeky brat," he said. "Okay. I heard some rumours in New Orleans and again in Dallas, about a town that belonged to vampires. The story is there's a blood house here. A big one. Very exclusive. Very expensive. If we'd been mixing with the posh set, I might 'ave heard more. As it was, it was just camp fire tales. Seemed odd and I was curious, but I didn't really take much notice. Not 'til I saw we were going t' be passing this way. Then it seemed worth a look. And if your Wendy has a bite scar... Well, it looks like it might be true after all."

Xander twisted out of Spike's arms so he was sitting cross legged, facing him, his irrational fears returning full force. "But what if it's something else? What if it's a trap to catch vampires. Set a rumour going and lure them in, then kill them. What if it's that?" He trusted Spike and he relied on him, but that didn't mean Spike was always right. Sometimes he could be spectacularly and messily wrong. This town made Xander shiver and he didn't know why. "Maybe we should go," he wheedled. "If I drive the van up to the door and open the back, you could dive in and we could be gone before sundown. Please, Master Spike."

Spike raised one hand, stroking over Xander's hair and down his neck to rest on his scar, rubbing softly. "Calm down, Pet. This isn't like you," he said firmly and Xander found himself obeying, in spite of himself. Spike took his hands, pulling him around so he rested with his shoulder against Spike's chest. "We'll be careful," he said. "But your Wendy's still alive, 'spite of having been bitten. Don't y' think we should at least investigate? If she said what you say she said…" He paused, as if thinking through the logic of that phrase, then nodded and continued, "Anyhow, I think the evidence points more to my theory than yours. In fact, your reaction is almost proof enough.” He tilted his head down, catching Xander’s eyes, checking that Xander was taking this in. “It's the stirring in your blood,” he explained. “Like me, you can feel another, powerful vampire in town. One who's laid claim. It's telling you to get out of foreign territory, potentially enemy territory.” Xander thought about the odd mood he had been in all day, the vague depression and disquiet, and the sudden uncharacteristic panic. “Small town like this isn't like the big cities,” Spike continued. “There the instinct's masked by all the humans in the place.” His lips twitched. “More than enough for everyone in a city. And anyway, we always went and paid our respects, first thing when we arrived." Tilting Xander's face up, he dropped a quick kiss on the tip of his nose and his voice gentled. "Come on, we can't just drive away without finding out more," he cajoled. "Not now. I know you. You couldn't do it. You're not the type to run away. And nor can I." He rubbed his chin across Xander's forehead as he paused in thought. "I'm not saying we rush in and rescue the humans. But if it turns out they need rescuing... we should at least know, before we go find reinforcements."

Xander snuggled close to Spike's chest, absorbing this new idea, this new aspect of what he now was. Three years and he could sense vampires. How human would he be in another three? Somehow, he couldn’t raise the energy to care. Spike had a soul and he would never let Xander lose his. Turning his head he laid a kiss on one pectoral, acknowledging Spike's argument. "Okay. Yes. You're probably right. I do feel better now, not so keyed up. Is that being back close to you? Or is it because I now know why I felt odd in the first place?"

Spike grinned. "Bit of both, I reckon. You're my claimed, so my presence soothes you. And you won't react so strongly next time, if there is a next time, because you'll recognise the feeling. Blood is clever stuff, Luv. You learn it, and it learns you."

Xander sighed and relaxed further into Spike's embrace. "Okay," he said. "A blood house. Like that place Buffy torched in Sunnydale. She told us about that. How it was dirty and horrid and the people were like drug addicts. I can see that. I think Wendy's middle aged, but she looked old and kind of worn out, you know? That's just sad, Spike. People shouldn't be like that. They shouldn't be made to feel like that." He took a deep breath and let it out again, gathering his resolve. "So, we find out what's wrong. And we find out how to put it right. That's what we always do. Do you want to go in? Have a look around? What do we have to do?"

Spike's hand stroked down Xander's side coming to rest on his hip. "I reckon it's time I taught you what it really means to belong to a Master Vampire," he said with a leer. "It's time you learnt your place."

Xander raised his face towards Spike but kept his eyes lowered, fixed on Spike's mouth. "Please, Master," he whispered. "Tell me what to do. I live to please you, Master. I'll do anything."

Spike's lips curled into a cruel sneer. "Yes, you will," he said, running both hands over the suddenly pliant body in his lap. "You smell too clean, Boy. You've washed my scent off you. I think we need to make sure you carry it with you at all times, in future."

Xander felt a tremor run through him at the cold, commanding tone and the feel of Spike's erection pressing into his thigh. He allowed his head to fall back, exposing his throat, offering himself in the most intimate and fundamental of ways. One of Spike's hands came to rest over the pulse point, before gripping the collar and pulling him back so he lay prostrate over Spike's thighs. The other began to stroke his smooth, shaven genitals. As the rush of warm arousal spread through his body, making the blood sing in his veins, Xander let his legs fall open, knowing how his wanton posture would please and enflame Spike's passion. The hand stroked down over his balls, fondling and weighing them, causing his breath to hitch, before slipping further back. Without warning, one finger plunged inside him, and he gasped at the sudden intrusion, his hips bucking. Spike growled and the hand gripping his collar tightened until he could hardly breathe past the constriction. Loosing the battle to remain still and submissive, one of Xander’s hands grabbed a fist-full of the coverlet, twisting it tightly. With the other he scrabbled at Spike's back, attempting to find a hold to brace himself. For a seemingly endless moment he struggled to drag air back into his lungs, but before his inability to breathe actually became an issue, he was suddenly released and both hands were gone from his body, leaving him panting and unresisting, over Spike's lap. A pillow landed next to him and he was rolled so he lay face down over it, his arms trapped under his own chest. He felt the bed move and then the hands were back, pulling his butt cheeks apart, opening him up. He raised his ass and was rewarded with a sharp slap which sent tingles straight up his spine to reverberate through his brain. Two slick thumbs pushed inside, stretching him and he gasped again. His face was pressed into the cool nylon of the floral bedspread and, unable to move his arms, the sensation of helplessness was overwhelming and intoxicating. He had no say in this. He might as well have been tied down for all he could do to fight, or to assist. He was a body to be used for another's pleasure and his master would do as he saw fit. Xander luxuriated in the sensation, so different from the active participation Spike usually required.

The thumbs pulled apart, forcing him open, not teasing, and he did his best to relax his lower body, taking deep, calming breaths, encouraging his sphincter to open. Something larger and blunter pressed against his hole as the thumbs withdrew and he groaned at the relentless intrusion into his body, glad of his training and that he had used a lot of lube in the shower before he went out for food.

Spike entered him fully with one long push, hardly allowing his body to adjust to being filled before pulling back and pushing in again. Xander keened with needy pleasure at the rude sensation of pressure and burn. Spike's weight held him down, held him immobile. His knuckles and wrists dug into his ribs as his elbows and shoulders were pressed down at just the wrong angle, reinforcing the sensation of bondage. Then, with a growl, Spike began to thrust in earnest, a rapid, punishing rhythm designed to satisfy his own needs, regardless of Xander's, his panting breaths loud in Xander's ear.

Xander lay passive under the assault, concentrating on keeping his muscles relaxed, taking it as a good slave should, glorying in the knowledge that he could make his master breathe. Spike grunted each time he thrust forwards, the sounds almost like pain, as his hips slammed into Xander's ass. Xander felt the pressure building in his core as his mind began to float at the sheer thrill of his helplessness. "Please. Yes, please. Master. Oh, yes. Please," he begged. He could have been a blow-up doll for all the consideration Spike was showing. The weight on his back moved, pressing him down harder, forcing his wrists to turn under the pressure and he felt the prickle of fangs at his shoulder as his whole body flushed with sudden heat. Then, finally, the bite let loose the flood and he was screaming his release into the coverlet.

Spike collapsed over him, the hard thrusts reduced to a gentle rocking, as he filled Xander's body with cool fluid and the suction at his neck became a slow, nursing pull. Spike gave a full-body shudder and took hold of Xander's arms, pulling them out from under his chest and twining their fingers together as he lay over Xander's back. They lay still and sated for a while, Spike still pressing inside Xander's ass, until the sensation of withdrawal as he began to shrink caused Xander to moan and wriggle at the loss. One last gentle pull at his shoulder and Xander felt the fangs release him and Spike's tongue lave the wound. He started to laugh.

Spike shifted off him and pulled him over so he was lying on his back gazing up at his master's face. Spike lay on his side, head resting on one fist as he looked down at Xander, his forehead wrinkled in puzzlement, but with an amused and indulgent smile on his lips. "You were doing really well right up to the end there, Pet. What the hell are you laughing at?"

Xander gasped. "I just... I just had a thought... that it's a good thing I'm not a blow-up doll," he said. "Because that would really anti the climax, you know?"

Spike's lips twitched, but he shook his head in mock disappointment. "I married a mad man," he said sorrowfully. "I'll never be able to take you into polite company, will I, Luv? What would all the other vampires think if they could see you laughing at your master? I didn't train you right, that's what it is. Should have just chained you up 'til you learned to behave."

Xander smirked and rolled over to press himself against Spike. "I might still be teachable, Master. You could try that...?" he suggested.

Spike laughed and smacked him playfully on the thigh. "No," he sighed. "I'm just going to have to live with the consequences of my mistakes."

Rolling back, Xander stretched his arms up to circle Spike's neck and pull him down. "But you love it," he whispered.

Spike kissed him deeply before pulling away enough to whisper back, "Yes, I really do."

Road Trip 2