Spike came to about halfway back to the apartment. He snarled when he realized that Xander was driving his DeSoto.

“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Whelp?” A growl escaped from his lips. He wiped his mouth with his hand, absently licking at the blood collected there.

“Well, I’m driving your lazy butt home since you decided to take a nap.” Xander looked over at the vampire beside him, wincing internally at the drawn look on the other man’s face.

“Pull over, I’m driving.” Spike struggled to sit up straighter, drawing his duster around him as he shivered.

“No, I am not going to pull over. Giles says that you didn’t do anything at all to induce that last jolt and it was the worst so far.” Xander glanced again at Spike, noting the dark circles that were developing under now dull blue eyes.

“’M fine. Now pull over.” Spike reached out to touch Xander, receiving a zap from his chip for his efforts. “Fuck!”

Spike fell silent, allowing himself to drift off. When he awoke, he was sitting alone in the car. He began cursing the boy aloud before he realized that they were sitting in front of Willy’s. Xander appeared suddenly outside Spike’s window, causing him to jump.

“Here, Fangless.” He shoved several bags of blood through the window. “Eat up. You look like shit.”

“Thanks too much.” Spike raised an eyebrow as he tore into the bags, too hungry to be concerned with his audience. Xander climbed into the driver’s seat and began patting his pockets, looking for the key. He found it in the ignition and started the powerful motor back up.

Spike threw an empty bag out the window and had started on a second when he realized that the blood didn’t taste bad. He drew in another mouthful, swallowing then turning, startled, to look at the boy. “Human?”

“Yeah. Really, man, you look bad. I didn’t think that pig blood would do anything to help repair the damage that thing has to be doing to your head.” He avoided looking at the blond vamp as he turned back in the direction of their apartment.

Spike finished five of the six bags that Xander had bought for him before they turned onto their street. He dropped the last bag into a deep pocket to save for a mid-day treat.

As Xander parked the DeSoto in it’s customary parking place, Spike took a deep breath and turned to face the other man. “Xander, thank you for the blood. You’re right, pig wouldn’t have cut it.”

Xander waved off the comment and walked around the car to help Spike out of the seat, resulting in the Big Bad popping back out.

 “Hands off. I’m fine,” Spike rumbled, shoving Xander back before falling to the ground, writhing in pain.

“Yeah, you look great.” Xander shrugged and walked towards the door. Spike growled and pulled himself off the ground, staggering towards the boy who was holding open the door for him.

By the time he made it into the building, the pain had passed and, as they walked up the stairs to the apartment, Xander and Spike were arguing as usual. They were stopped in their tracks at the sound of a soft British accent.

“William! Alexander! Come here, boys!”  Both men turned and made their way into the open door of the elderly woman’s apartment.

Mrs. Sanderson had become a presence in the life of the Scoobies. Of indeterminate age, the woman fairly projected youth and vitality. Spike suspected that the woman was well over a hundred years old. He had surreptitiously probed the woman’s memories while indulging in her tea and found that they had shared more than a few historical periods.

She was regularly awake at all hours of the day and night and they never knew when they might be summoned to visit. None of the Scoobies dared refuse her invitations. Spike and Giles were particular favorites of hers; she would hold them in her apartment for hours discussing all things English.

“Hello, Mrs. Sanderson. How are you this evening?” Spike’s cultured alter ego’s voice rang out in the quiet room.

“Quite well, my young William. Please boys, come in and sit.” Mrs. Sanderson waved them towards the lace-covered couch and walked into the kitchen to fetch tea and biscuits.

“Well, now, boys. How are things going?” Mrs. Sanderson placed an intricate silver tray down on the coffee table in front of Xander and Spike. She positioned a delicate bone china teacup and saucer in front of each of them before pouring the hot infusion through the silver strainer and into the cups.

“Everything is going fine, Mrs. Sanderson. We’re planning on a trip in the next few weeks, so you need to tell the grocer that you’ll need help getting up the stairs with your groceries. I don’t know why you won’t use the elevator.” The softly wrinkled face glowed as a smile was beamed in Xander’s direction.

“Thank you for letting me know, Alexander. I will be sure to alert Mr. Haverty to that fact. Where are you going?”

Spike gently stirred his tea, not allowing the silver spoon to touch the fragile china. “We are going on a cruise with Mr. Giles. I do believe that it will be quite the holiday.” He reached for one of the sweet cookies still sitting on the silver tray.

Xander attempted to mimic Spike’s precise stirring method, accidentally tapping his spoon on the rim of his cup while removing it from the tea. He blushed and looked nervously at his hostess, apologizing with a smile.

Mrs. Sanderson had been quite adamant that both young men learn how to behave correctly at tea. She had been fairly delighted at how quickly Spike had taken to the outdated custom. Xander was still adjusting.

“How long will you be away?” She lifted her cup and saucer, sipping quietly at her beverage.

Xander, trying to avoid actually having to drink his tea answered. “We’re not sure. Giles…” At Mrs. Sanderson’s frown, Xander amended his statement. “I mean, Mr. Giles says that we will probably be gone between two and three weeks.” He lifted his cup to his mouth, trying not to grimace at the taste. He looked at Spike pleadingly.

Spike rolled his eyes at Xander as Baggins distracted Mrs. Sanderson. “We will be leaving next Wednesday at half four. I do wish we could give you more information, but we are unsure as to when we will be returning. Mr. Giles, as you know, is a man of varied interests and could possibly find distractions on our return. As he is financing our travels, we are more than willing to stop anywhere he pleases. We are eagerly looking forward to our trip.” With that final comment, Spike finished his tea and stood.

“Mrs. Sanderson, it has been delightful, but I regret that it is late and Alexander and myself have much to do to in preparation to leave next week, I’m sure you understand. Thank you for the tea.” He bent at the waist and placed a gentle kiss on the wrist of his hostess.

Mrs. Sanderson smiled up at the vampire and touched him gently on the head. Spike’s knees bowed as he felt a rush of energy flow through his body. He shook his head slightly and smiled at the older woman. “Thank you again for the tea.” He shook his head again, feeling odd.

As Spike moved towards the door, Xander stood and followed. Spike spun and thrust his eyebrows in the direction of Mrs. Sanderson.

“Um… Thanks for the tea, Mrs. Sanderson. We’ll give you call when we get home!” Xander turned back and walked quickly to the door.

“Thank you for the company, boys! Enjoy your holiday!” As her door closed, Mrs. Sanderson looked down at her cat. “Oh, Baggins, did you see their auras? They’re becoming aware; it won’t be long now, my pet. Off to bed now.” Mrs. Sanderson lifted the lanky feline and the two shuffled into the bedroom.

*****

“Mmgh…” Anya’s less than coherent response made Xander frown. He had hoped to rid his mind of the disconcerting thoughts about Spike by pounding his very human and, more importantly, female girlfriend into the mattress. However, when he got home, he found her sound asleep in their bed.

 He once again massaged the small breast that filled his hand as he kissed and nibbled at her neck. Anya groaned again and spun in the bed, knocking him in the head with her elbow. He released her quickly, rubbing his sore cheekbone. Anya rolled to her stomach and began to snore.

Xander turned over, leaving Anya to her dreams. He stared at the ceiling, trying to control his thoughts. Remembered conversations flew threw his head.

Growing up, Xander would lie in his room at night, praying that his father would be too drunk to remember that he had a son that he hated. On a good night, his father would stumble drunkenly past his room into his own, where Xander would try not to listen to the grunting and cursing from the next room. Xander would pretend that he didn’t hear his father blame his mother for his inability to perform.

“You cunt! If you were in the least bit attractive, this wouldn’t have happened. ‘Course I can’t get it up! You think I want to be with a woman that looks like you? If I weren’t tied to you, I could have any woman I wanted. But, no! You had to get knocked up and trap me. I shoulda made you get rid of the little fucker! Then I would be a free man! Get it hard woman!”

His father would rant for hours about the uselessness of his wife and son. Xander’s mother never fought back. How could she? She believed every word that came out of her husband’s mouth.

On a bad night, his dad would remember him. He would be dragged out of his bed and thrown to the floor, kicked and beaten until he no longer resisted. Then the real abuse would begin.

“Why are you crying, you little fag? You think I don’t know what you do in here at night when your skinny, little friend comes over? You like dick, boy? Well, here’s one for you!” His father would then force Xander’s mouth open and stick his hard cock in, fucking his son’s mouth as he continued to verbally lash out. He was always hard.

“You like that, you little cocksucker?” Tears would roll down Xander’s face as he tried not to gag on the flesh that filled his mouth. “Yeah, you like it. You’re a little fag, aren’t you?” He would continue to thrust into the unresisting cavern before pulling out and coming all over Xander’s face and chest. “There, you little queer. Clean yourself up. If I ever catch you doing any disgusting faggot things in this house, I’ll kill you. Get up off the floor and be a man!”

After a few more well-placed kicks, Xander would half-stumble, half-crawl to the bathroom to clean himself up. Looking into the mirror, he would see haunted eyes looking back. In his heart, he knew that was why he had developed his defensive comedy routine. He had to prevent the world from seeing what he saw every time he looked into the mirror.

Then Jesse had died. Xander had killed him. Jesse was the only other person that knew the whole truth about his father’s abuse. Xander had hidden it from everyone else. With Jesse, he had let himself cry, had tried to understand why his father hated him so much. Jesse had been unable to offer anything but the innocent comfort of his arms. He had loved Jesse with all his heart and then he had killed him.

That night was one of the bad ones. When his father forced his way into Xander’s mouth, he finally broke. He was gasping for breath and crying harder than ever before, the pain in his heart not allowing him to distance himself from the abuse. He was so angry. He was angry with himself, angry with Buffy and angry with the world… He was too angry to be cowed. He bit down, hard.

His father had screamed and his mother had run in immediately. That had hurt Xander more than anything. She had known. She had heard everything that had ever happened in this room. Blood dripped out of his mouth as his father lay on the floor before him, rolling back and forth, curled around his own body.

His mother had driven his father to the Emergency Room. It had taken 25 stitches to repair the damage that Xander’s blunt teeth had caused. After that night, he never saw his father’s dick again.

The abuse didn’t stop, though. It evolved into something different, but just as bad. Xander rapidly learned how to clean and medicate the lash marks his father’s whip had left across his back. The whip that he had bought the night after Jesse died. The whip he had used almost every day until Xander moved into the basement. Anya had never noticed the faint scars.

Xander flinched, pulling back from his own thoughts. He heard Spike in the next room, pacing. He closed his eyes and tried to sleep. He rolled closer to Anya’s warm body and relaxed into her heat before drifting off.

*****

Spike smoked the last cigarette in his pack and continued to pace. It was too early in the evening to sleep and he was too worked up to even sit comfortably. He hadn’t felt this good since the commandos stuck their damn chip in his head. Must have been all the human blood that the whelp had fed to him, he decided.

Looking at the empty package of smokes, he gleefully threw on his duster and ran out of the apartment and towards the stop and rob, happy to have something to do other than sleep.

“Gonna get some smokes, gonna get some smokes, gonna get some…” He stopped singing as he saw a figure dart around the corner of the street. Sniffing the breeze, he snarled happily. It was a fledgling. He could kill it.

Spike raced after the other vamp that, wisely, had run at the first sight of Spike. He allowed the chase to continue for an extended time. He howled as he ran, drinking in the night. When he was done playing, the master vampire quickly caught up to the fledge, who fell to his knees, begging for his life.

Spike felt the need for a little release and pummeled the other vampire until it could no longer stand. When the younger demon quit moving in response to his punches, Spike pulled a stake out of his duster pocket and plunged it into the other’s dead heart.

Brushing dust from his clothing, Spike dropped the stake back into his pocket and looked around. He was standing in a residential neighborhood quite a ways from his own apartment. He hadn’t realized that he had chased the fledgling so far. He turned back in the direction of home. Looking up at a street sign, he noticed that he was about a block from Revello Drive. He wandered towards the Slayer’s house, thinking that he might as well check to make sure that Buffy had arrived home in one piece. A flimsy excuse to see one of his favorite females, but his overactive mind really didn’t care.

When he got closer, he noticed that the kitchen light was on. He grinned and stepped up his pace, hurrying to the door. Peeking in the shuttered window, he saw a familiar shape. He smiled and knocked quietly at the door before running his fingers through his hair to neaten it.

The shutter cracked, and then fell shut as the door opened. “Spike, come in.” Joyce smiled as she moved aside to allow Spike through the door.

“Evening, Joyce. Too late, or early to visit?” Spike squinted at the clock on the oven, deciding that too early was the correct question. He smelled the unmistakable scent of cocoa and his mouth watered.

“Never too late…” Joyce peered at the clock herself. “Too early for you, Spike. Hot Chocolate?” Joyce began filling a second mug before the vampire had a chance to answer. She leaned over to pull the miniature marshmallows from their cabinet before pushing the mug of chocolate and bag of sweet treats towards the waiting vamp.

Spike pulled off his duster and hung it on the coat rack next to the door then hopped onto the stool across from Joyce. He filled his cup to the brim with marshmallows before sipping noisily at the warm concoction.

“So what’s going on, Spike? Haven’t seen you recently.” Joyce sipped at her own chocolate, closing her eyes with pleasure.

“Well, my soddin’ chip has decided to fry my brain. Spent more time than I’d like to admit laid out on the floor these last few days.” Spike’s comment made Joyce frown. She put down her mug and walked around the counter. Pulling Spike’s mug from his hands, she ignored the warning growl that escaped from his chest as she turned him to look at her.

“What do you mean? What’s going on with your chip?” Spike reluctantly began to relate the story behind his dysfunctioning implant. After a few gasps and sighs, Joyce gave Spike back his mug and settled on the stool beside him.

“Are you alright? Is there anything that I can do to help?” Spike smiled at the look on Joyce’s face. He loved this woman. Her fiery spirit impressed him long before the US government violated him, and now her caring heart drew him to her like a moth to a flame.

“’M fine, Joyce. Actually, it went off pretty badly at the shop tonight, but hasn’t fired since. The whelp bought me a few pints of human, and I’m feeling much better.” Remembering that he still had a packet of blood in his duster, he walked over and pulled it out. Joyce took the plastic bag from his hands and poured the contents into a mug before placing it in the microwave.

“What does Rupert think about all of this?” The microwave beeped and Joyce placed the oversized mug in front of Spike before taking the empty hot chocolate mug from his hands and rinsing it in the sink.

“Not much. I heard he and the whelp talking about magnets or something. I have no idea.” Spike and Joyce sat together, sipping their respective drinks and chatting until the sunrise became imminent.

Joyce glanced at the clock before pulling Spike off of his stool. “Home, Spike. Want to see you again.” She smiled gently at him.

Spike smiled and leaned in to kiss her cheek. “Thanks, Joyce. Be back soon.” He winked at her as he opened the door.

“Anytime, Spike. Anytime.” Joyce was rinsing out the bloody mug when her daughter appeared behind her.

“Was that Spike? Why didn’t you call me? I would have gotten rid of him for you.” Buffy walked over top the cabinet and pulled out a glass then headed towards the refrigerator.

“I didn’t want you to get rid of him, Buffy. I enjoy spending time with Spike. I invited him in.” Joyce frowned at her daughter.

Buffy looked up from where she was pouring herself some juice. “What do you mean, you invited him in? You can’t just invite vampires into our house!”

Joyce glared at her only child. “Yes, I can, because it is my house. I’m going to shower. If you want a ride to school, meet me at the car in an hour.” With that, Joyce left the kitchen.

Buffy stared after her mother, stunned.

THE TRIANGLE 6