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Something Rich and Strange by Prologue
Xander knew exactly when it happened - when he first tasted desolation, and realized that the world was never, ever going to be the same. It was the night Jesse died. Not even a week into their friendship with Buffy and someone was already dead. He cried silently in bed that night, the taste of ashes in his mouth and the deconstruction of his best friend's face reeling and unreeling in his head. A scene worthy of a multi-million dollar summer blockbuster and all his, to cherish forever. Xander remembered lying there and hating everyone. But mostly hating Buffy, for making it all real - for embodying the worst moment of his life. He hadn't thought he'd be able to face her the next day at school without wanting to slap her. He armored his heart in ice, that night - ice to keep the sullen rage from blasting everyone around him, and ice to keep the burning pain of loss from consuming him. But after a few days he knew that Buffy hadn't actually caused any of it - her presence had just made it all real. They'd all lost friends over the years; they'd all averted their eyes from milk cartons and leaflets tacked to telephone poles, so they wouldn't have to really see... And now he was seeing and now, he realized, he could do something about it. So he did - following along behind, doing his best to not get vamped or killed, doing his best to do something, to help. To make that taste of ash go away, and to make the picture-screen in his head go dark, so he didn't have to watch the special effects festival that spooled out in his sleep night after night. The thing with the hyenas actually kind of helped. It was a little easier, after that, to feel that he was part of something. To have that belonging feeling. As if he'd gotten into a tight little nest and every time he moved or turned he could feel them, and he was safe in the middle. Once the spell was broken, the dark, hungry thoughts of the hyena persisted. When he brought an axe down on the neck of the monster-of -the-week, part of him howled in triumph and pushed aside the thought that these things - these demons - perhaps had packs of their own...Jesse's of their own. He had his pack, and all else was not-pack, and it was good. It was even better when it was him Me, I did that! who brought Buffy back to life after fighting the Master. That it was himself - Xander Harris, guy in the middle - who had shamed a centuries-old demon into helping. He'd told Angel that night that he needed proof; proof that Angel was a person and not a monster. He wasn't sure he'd gotten that proof - he still didn't trust Angel - but at least Angel had come; at least he'd been there, because of him. Things had changed more, though, after Spike had come to town. It sure hadn't helped Xander's trust issues with Angel when the older vampire had offered him up like a snack to his...not friend, no... Things were just not right when you almost felt you could trust the psychopathic vampire over the souled one. Spike and his Drusilla managed to almost kill Angel. Luckily Kendra was there - poor, dead Kendra, another Hellmouth casualty that Xander tried not to think about too much. And then there was that thing with the Judge. But by that time, Angel was Angelus and Angelus had kind of screwed the whole Judge thing up in that gloating, overconfident way the demon had. Xander remembered being angry at Buffy again when she just couldn't seem to kill Angelus. When Ms. Calendar being murdered and the end of the world coming didn't seem to make a dent in her self-pity. He'd agonized over telling her about Willow and the spell she was doing, but in the end, he hadn't. Angelus had to die - even Spike - Spike! - wanted him dead, so who was he - middle-guy, tagging-along guy - to thwart that? But that feeling - the feeling that all was not right - had come over him again, and again it was because of Spike. Supporting a half-fainting Giles, desperate to get away from the mansion, Xander had watched as Spike had tenderly lain Drusilla in the seat of that battered DeSoto. Watched Spike brush her hair back and arrange her dress, watched his fingers linger on her cheek. And then Spike had driven away into the sunlight, and Xander had gotten Giles to the hospital. Lying in bed that night he remembered what Buffy had said - that Spike had made a deal: all, everything, Angelus, this place...all for Drusilla. The books and Giles said vampires didn't love; they were sharks, out for the blood and the kill, and nothing else. But that hadn't been what Xander had seen, and now sometimes even the hyena didn't seem so triumphant when another vampire - another demon - fell at the Slayer's feet. He didn't love them. He didn't want to be friends with them, or let them roam his city unchallenged. But he wondered if the black-and-white version of the world that the Council and even Buffy and Giles seemed to embrace was really the best way. The soldier - who lingered long after that Halloween, just like the hyena - seemed to think he was crazy. There was the Enemy and there were Friendlies, and that was that. Xander tried to persuade him that some enemies might be friendlies but the soldier sided with the hyena on this one, and Xander grimly ignored his own confusion, knowing hesitation could kill him one day. It got more muddled when Spike came back - snatching Xander and Willow away, ranting drunkenly about Drusilla. She'd left him and he wanted her back. Love spell...and wasn't that just too hysterically familiar. As Willow looked through the box of supplies, Spike leaned unsteadily against the musty bed, broken bottle clutched loosely in one hand and the other going out to twine in Xander's hair. "My Dru...she's got dark hair too, did'ja know? Just like this...dark eyes..." Xander had stared up at the vampire - his heart pounding and his breath coming in frightened pants - and seen devastation in wide blue eyes. Devastation and fear and a frantic need. Xander understood those things - understood what drove the vampire to such an extreme even as he plotted how to knock him down and get Willow to safety. The long fingers petting through his hair had been...gentle. Then Spike left to get more components for the spell and never came back. In the insanity that followed - Cordelia lying bloody and dazed in the rubble, Oz grim-mouthed and solemn - he'd not thought about the vampire at all. But the look came back to him in the night, and the fingers, so gentle in his hair. More fodder for the night-time horror-show. Only he wasn't horrified. In fact, he found himself thinking about the blonde vampire a lot. It was - confusing. Xander was glad when school was over; their final year had held so much pain and so much anger and so much despair. The new Slayer showing that she could be as evil as the demons she fought. Angel coming back and all, seemingly, forgiven. Even a Watcher who somehow had given in to the 'dark side'. And seeing childhood friends on the front lines of the final battle with the Mayor. Knowing he'd put them there, and seen them die, only added to the armor on Xander's heart. The soldier, whispering about honor and duty and acceptable losses only made him sick and angry. Xander hoped that a few months away - Anywhere but here... would help him put things into perspective. And they had, only in ways he'd never imagined. And now he was back in Sunnydale, trying to slot the new shape of his life into the old space and it just wasn't a fit anymore - he just couldn't do it. He was trying, trying so hard. But the looks he got from Willow and Buffy, when he couldn't contribute to their college talk... And Giles' little sighs when he made some joking remark, trying to be that same old Xan-man. Even Anya, pushing and pushing at him for something...and a few months ago he would have jumped at that, been Xander-and-Anya and told himself he was happy. But he couldn't, not after Oxnard, and it made the former demon confused, unhappy and angry, and it made Xander just want to hit something. Lying on Giles' couch, wracked with chills from the Chumash-inflicted illnesses, he'd thought his life couldn't get any more surreal. Until Spike Spike, for god's sake! was at the door, babbling something about needing help, being...broken? Looking different - thinner, and ragged around the edges. He barely rose to Buffy's taunts, didn't even fight back when she decked him and Xander finally understood that Spike couldn't. Something in him raised a cheer even as something else cringed in disgust and horror at the thought of a secret military base and white-coated scientists cutting open the vampire's head, for fuck's sake, and sticking some sort of silicon chip in there. That was so - 1984, or something - and it gave Xander the creeps. What if they thought Buffy was a threat? She could as easily kill a human as a demon - what if this military group decided they were all a threat? Would they stoop to doing experimental surgery on humans? When the fight with the Indian spirits was over and the fever was finally gone, Xander helped Giles get the Chumash arrows out of Spike, wincing inwardly as they pulled them free from pale, pale flesh. Spike didn't act like it hurt too much - he just bitched on and on about being tied up, being left in harm's way - but Xander saw the little lines of pain around his eyes and felt...something. Something he shouldn't feel. He squashed it viciously and concentrated on the food Buffy'd made, and tried not to care that Spike looked like a fallen angel; bloody and disheveled, bound to Giles' chair and looking at them all with eyes dark with pain and hate. Not long after that Spike was sent to live with him and then, well...things just got weirder. And Xander finally admitted to himself that he was falling for William the Bloody. 1 Hunted "C'mon, Spike, you gotta help me out here." Xander heaved at the mostly-unconscious vampire he was struggling to lift out of his truck. Spike mumbled something and made vague swimming motions with his arms. His legs didn't even twitch, and Xander took a breath and bent his knees a little and just hauled, getting the shorter man up over his shoulder and thank you god for construction that had put some muscle on him. He staggered up his walk and then bent down, propping Spike against the wall as he fumbled his key into the lock and got the door open. Good thing Spike had been over a couple times since Xander'd moved to his new house; getting blood and stealing food. Xander wasn't sure if the invite thing worked on a vampire that was mostly out of it. Spike managed to keep his knees from bending and Xander half-dragged him into the front room and let him go with a sigh of relief onto the couch. Spike sprawled there, one leg and one arm dangling over the edge, the other arm caught at a funny angle against the cushions. Xander stretched his back a little and then went back to the door and locked it. He shut the curtains over both windows and debated the likelihood of getting the duster off Spike without actually getting him up again. In the end he just knelt down and removed Spike's boots and then straightened him out on the couch, laying his arms comfortably across his stomach, getting a pillow under his head. He pulled his Made-in-Mexico Navajo blanket off the back of the couch and draped it over the vampire. Do vampires get sick in their sleep when they're this drunk? Xander eyed the motionless form for a moment then gently turned Spike's head just a little on the pillow, just in case. Wouldn't do to have him choke...guess he wouldn't, though...doesn't breathe, duh Xander just stood there, watching Spike for a long moment. Looking at his face, which for once had no expression of malice or anger or hate on it - it was just...peaceful. Beautiful. Stop that. Need to - oh yeah, need to go wash up, vampire blood on the hands, not of the good Xander shook his head and went to his kitchen - looked down at himself and decided that a shower would be better. He detoured around the kitchen table to the bedroom, stripping as he went, kicking his shoes off towards the bed. He tossed his clothes at the laundry basket Two points! Well, almost and flicked on the bathroom light. One of the best things about this house was that the rooms were all the same size, so that meant the bathroom was as big as the bedroom. Xander liked that; cramped bathrooms sucked and here he had a shower as well as the original cast-iron claw foot tub. Plus, a washer and dryer, which he'd gotten second-hand just this week. And thank god for that. The laundromat was kinda - creepy. He opted for a shower, too tired to mess around with a bath. As he stood under the spray, lazily soaping his belly images from the night flashed through his mind. Spike - bleeding and desperate - giving Giles his money back, his face so full of anger and hatred that Xander had actually been afraid of him. The long sweep of Spike's naked back, smeared with blood, the muscles jumping and twitching every time Giles dug a little deeper for the tracer that had been shot into him. His eyes, fathomless and dark as lapis, staring at Xander - no anger, for a moment, just pain and... He looked so tired, tonight. Frayed around the edges. He must have been...terrified. Those soldiers… Xander cursed a little under his breath at the thought of the Initiative soldiers. Bad enough they were running around Sunnyhell, putting everyone in danger; stirring up the demons and the vampires and making every patrol a game of Russian Roulette - would they interfere? Would they hurt one of the Scoobies? Tonight, though - they'd gone too far. Tried to murder Buffy. And even though he was feeling less and less of a Scooby, Xander still felt like punching someone punch Riley for that. For casually wanting to take a life because it interfered in their ultra-secret plots to do... who knows what. And Spike - tagging him like he was a damn animal - hunting him down. Who knows what they would have done to him if they'd caught him again? And what would they have done to Giles, the girls - himself - finding them 'consorting' with Hostile 17? Xander shook his head, taking deep breaths - trying to get the anger out. No point in being so pissed that all he wanted to do was smash things. He had to think. So...think. Think about... Spike. No. Well, ok. Why not? I've been thinking about him. Been thinking about him since...since forever. Since Angel almost got me bitten. Since I watched him being so tender with Drusilla. Since he tried to kill himself and I...kissed him. And he kissed me back. That memory was the strongest - the best - and Xander leaned against the shower wall and closed his eyes, remembering...
Xander gasped in a breath of steam and shampoo-smell, his hand slick and tight around his erection. Oh, yeah, why the fuck not...he tasted like...cream and cloves and...ooh... Xander arched against the wall, his orgasm nearly silent - ferocious. He panted there in the spray for a moment then finished his shower and got out. He dried off and slipped into the robe that he kept on the hook on the back of the bathroom door. Combing his hair, looking at himself in the mirror, he raised a sardonic eyebrow at his reflection. Buffy'd tear you a new one, after all your crap over Angel. Wait. Are you planning on telling Buffy? The soldier's voice, sharp and stern. Xander blinked at himself, and finally shook his head. No. About the whole guy-thing, maybe. I'll have to talk about Oxnard eventually and I'm not ashamed of that. But about Spike...no. It was just one kiss. And even if he did kiss me back...it doesn't mean anything. And thank god the whole 'I can hit demons' thing distracted him so he didn't ask me about why I kissed him. He still talks about Drusilla... still loves her, probably. No point in...losing... Well, fuck. Xander shook his head, reaching for his toothbrush. Too damn late. Already lost my heart. Already gave it right to him. Fuck, I've only been thinking about him - dreaming about him - for two years. Even when I had no clue why I was. Even when I kept my heart as cold and hard as I could, he was still in there. That night... Xander brushed his teeth, lost to memory again, unaware that Spike was standing in the doorway to the bathroom. Xander saw only himself in the mirror, and the movie that played out in his inner eye; a night at Giles' house, and the first crack in the armor that had gotten him to this - to love.
Xander spat into the sink, rinsing his brush and using his hand to scoop water and rinse his mouth. Spike moving in with him and then the earthquake and that kiss, dear god, and now, tonight... Spike on his couch, Spike looking like Lucifer himself - light-bringer, tempter - so beautiful and so vulnerable... Maybe it's just 'cause he's...hurt. Maybe that's all it is. He'll get better, he'll be back to himself and I won't... Xander wiped his face on his towel and turned around and let out a small shriek as he caught sight of Spike, leaning there in the doorway. Spike's eyes were dark, squinted a little against the light, staring at him. "What'm I doin' on yer bloody...couch?" he mumbled, and Xander shook his head, catching his breath. "Christ, you scared me. You're on my couch 'cause you were mostly passed out and after tonight, we didn't think it would be safe for you to go back to your crypt. The Initiative might find you there and you wouldn't - you could get caught again." Spike just stared at him, swaying a little, his duster half-off the wounded shoulder, his hands clenched tight into fists. Xander met that furious, unblinking gaze and watched in amazement as the anger faded and something else came up in them - puzzlement, and maybe...maybe gladness. Oh, right. You'll be able to shake this off no problem. Keep tellin' yourself that, Harris. Xander snorted at that particular inner voice. If even the soldier could see how lost he was, it was hopeless. He was...hooked. Xander walked towards the door, wondering if Spike would let him pass or not. "C'mon Spike. I've got blood here. Come and have a pint or two and lay back down, you'll feel better. Gonna have a hell of a headache when you wake up. Unless - do vampire's get headaches? I mean, does -" "Shut up, Harris," Spike whispered, and Xander froze, barely a foot between them and the smell of smoke and whiskey and Spike around him like a fog; comforting somehow, and arousing. He wanted to put his face into the space between Spike's shoulder and neck and just breathe. The hyena approved of that, a subdued grumble of pleasure somewhere in the back of his mind. Spike reached out and pushed a lock of hair off Xander's face - tucked it behind his ear - and Xander thought of Drusilla, and how careful Spike's fingers were being; that they were trembling, and that Xander was. "You - you - thought it wasn't safe for me at the crypt." "We - we all d-did, I mean... " "Lie. You're lying, Harris. It was just you. The bloody Watcher and the Slayer don't give a toss about me, we both know that. And the witch'll do whatever she's told, she don't have any backbone. It was just you." Spike's gaze was tracking over Xander's face - caressing him with insubstantial smoldering blue touches. His fingers were still in Xander's hair, trembling there, unmoving, his other hand still fisted at his side. He tipped his head a little and Xander shivered, wondering what Spike was going to do; wondering if he dared take another kiss. Spike took a deep breath in, scenting the air, and Xander knew his arousal was evident. Spike had told him, a couple weeks ago, how much he could tell from scent alone and Xander had considered bathing in cologne after that. "Sweet as honey from the rock," Spike murmured, and Xander swayed a little towards him, wanting... Oh yeah, want... Then Spike was turning; a swirl of black and white walking erratically into the kitchen. Xander heard him flop down into a chair and he leaned in the doorway for a minute, shaking all over. Oh god. Oh fuck! Pull yourself together, c'mon - deep breaths...oh, his voice ... Xander scrubbed his hands back through his hair and followed the vampire into the kitchen. Spike was sprawled in a chair, face down on the table, his arms folded over his head. Xander hesitated for a minute, then crossed to the counter and turned his boom box on, fiddling with the tuner until he got an 'alternative' station, keeping the volume low. He got a bag of blood from the 'fridge and put it in the microwave to heat. A negative. Isn't that rare? I wonder if it tastes... The DJ chatter stopped and music started to play, and when the first line of the song came growling out, Xander felt himself smile. "Here comes Johnny Yen again... With the liquor and
the drugs... "Hey, I remember this - from that movie we watched. You remember, Spike?" Xander carefully cut the corner off the warm bag and poured the blood into an extra-big coffee cup. Remembering the Basement of Doom and movie night. He'd rented Trainspotting and had actually seen Spike laugh; a full-on laugh of pure fun. At him of course, because Xander had had to pause the movie again and again and have Spike translate for him. The thick Scottish accents and unfamiliar slang had been confusing as hell. But Spike had translated and expounded and taught him a few slang words, and they'd both liked the movie a lot. Xander put the mug on the table in Spike's reach and leaned against the edge, humming with the radio. Spike propped himself up on his elbows, eyes half-shut, and reached for the mug. "Yeah, I 'memeber. This's Iggy Pop. Saw him at CBGB's ages ago...when I killed my second Slayer. Bloody good show, him an' the Ramones." Spike gulped the blood, the mug chattering a little against his teeth. "Want some more?" Flicker of blue eyes, tongue going out to lap a drop of scarlet from the corner of scarlet-stained lips. "Yeah, gimmie 'nother one, my shoulder still hurts. Bloody soldiers. Bloody Watcher - what'd he use, a damn soup spoon on me?" "It was pretty deep," Xander said, getting the second mug-full ready, looking over at Spike where he was twisting in the chair, taking his duster off and going through the pockets. "Your skin starts itching once
you buy the gimmick... About something called love... Xander slammed the microwave door, glancing in irritation at the radio, as if Iggy was betraying a confidence. Then he heard the familiar snick of Spike's Zippo and he crouched down, poking at the clutter of cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink. Know it's in here...ah ha! He found the ashtray he was looking for and slid it onto the table in front of Spike, then turned to get the blood. This time he sat down opposite the vampire and watched him as he sipped the blood and smoked, looking better already. He'd actually been too pale there, for a little while, and the pain and exhaustion in his face were fading now. Spike watched him back, silent, and they both listened to Iggy sing. "I got a lust for life... A lust for life...lust for life...lust for life... " The song ended and something came on that Xander didn't recognize and he found himself yawning hugely. It was well past midnight, and he had to work in... Fuck, four hours? Four and a half. "I gotta go to bed, Spike - gotta work tomorrow. Listen - why don't you get a shower and go to sleep? I'll find a new shirt for you to wear and you can just camp out here for a few days. Tomorrow's payday so I can stock up, and... " Xander's too-fast words petered out under Spike's wide-eyed stare, and he tapped nervously at the tabletop. "What? Why are you staring at me?" "What're you up to, Harris? Bein' - awfully friendly, lately. You thinkin' maybe...you're gonna get more'n a kiss outta me? That what you're fishin' around for?" Spike was back to looking pissed off, and Xander stood abruptly, snapping off the radio. Now he remembers. Great. "NO, Spike, I'm not - 'fishing around' for anything. I'm offering - I'm offering hospitality, like I did back in the damn basement, you remember that? I told you then what I thought, and I haven't changed my mind, I still think the same. You're not a child, you're not an animal, and after tonight...as far as I'm concerned, after tonight the fucking Initiative had better stay the hell away from you and from me, because I have had it with those bastards. And that includes Riley. Fuck, Spike... " Xander leaned across the table, looking the vampire straight in the eye, knowing his heart was pounding; knowing he couldn't really lie to Spike but doing his best to convince him. "Can't you just - take what I'm offering? Just take it and be -" "Grateful? Want me to be soddin' grateful, Harris?" Spike sneered at him, the cigarette punctuating his words. Xander hung his head for a minute, then he stood up straight and pushed his hands back through his hair. "No. I don't want you to be grateful - I don't expect you to be. You're... I can't imagine what you're feeling and I have no idea what this is like for you. But I want to help you, Spike. I'm not - expecting anything. Just take it, ok? I'm going to bed. There's extra towels in the bathroom, right there on the shelf." Xander walked away, to the bedroom, and Spike's quiet voice stopped him. "You said - back in the basement... You said you cared, if I lived or died. And you said - you'd explain it - explain that bloody kiss n'all." Xander stood in the doorway for a minute, then he sighed and turned around. "I will. I promise. But not tonight. I'm just - I'm too tired tonight. I'll tell you tomorrow, ok? I promise." Spike looked at him, then he ducked his head and stabbed out the cigarette - sat staring at the ashtray. "Night then." "Goodnight, Spike." Xander turned and walked across the room, tossing his robe onto the foot of the bed and sliding between the cool, worn sheets - settling the weight of the quilt over him. He willed himself to relax, taking several deep, long breaths. But even as his body drifted, leaden from exertion, his mind raced. What was that all about? Did it mean... Does he want me as much as I want him? Fuck, he could probably smell what I did in the shower, no wonder he... No, come on...young single guy, here, we do that all the time, doesn't have to mean anything at all - even if it did... Oh fuck, shut up, go to sleep, just go to sleep... Xander tried to make his mind go blank but he couldn't, and the same useless drivel kept running around and around his head. The soldier was silent but the hyena wanted resolution Pack or not-pack! and Xander didn't know what to tell it. He listened to Spike in the kitchen; smoking another cigarette, pushing his mug or the ashtray around on the table, a gritty slithering sound. Then the scrape of the chair moving and the kitchen light snapping off. Spike moved through the bedroom into the bathroom and Xander watched his shadow under the door; listened to the shower and then the sink running. He jumped up out of bed and pulled the heavy curtains across his windows and then got back under the covers, doing the deep breathing thing again; wishing he could fall asleep before Spike was finished in there. But he couldn't, and when the light went out in the bathroom Xander couldn't help but strain his eyes to see the vampire. He could vaguely make Spike's shape out - a paler blur against the darkness of the bathroom. Hesitating in the doorway. "Come on, Spike. Come to bed. Just like the basement, huh? I won't kick you and you won't hog the covers." A disembodied snort of laughter and Xander's bed creaked and dipped under Spike's weight. After a moment's shifting around, Spike was still. They lay silently for what seemed like hours. Xander was finally starting to doze off when he heard a sigh from his left, and a slight shifting. "Thanks, mate," Spike whispered. Xander grinned into his pillow, and was asleep. 2 500 Channels When his alarm went off the next morning, Xander reached over and slapped at it, then just lay in the bed for a minute, smiling to himself. Spike was curled around him, chest to back, knees tucked behind Xander's knees, one arm curled under Xander's pillow and the other over Xander's waist, folded up against Xander's chest. This had happened every morning down in the basement, and Xander had known it would happen again. Had counted on it. On Spike seeking warmth, seeking...contact. Seeking you? That what you're hoping? That if he was in bed with anybody else this wouldn't happen? Shut up, Xander thought to the soldier. It's too early for that shit. Just let me...savor this. Just one more minute... The soldier was silent, and Xander did savor, concentrating on feeling every inch of Spike's body pressed against his; on filling his lungs with the scent of him. He and Spike had never talked about this - in fact, Xander had often wondered if Spike really remembered. Sometimes he moved when Xander got out of bed and occasionally even talked, but Spike had never actually mentioned it. The first time it had happened, Xander had about had a heart-attack. But it had gotten...comfortable, over time. Then he'd craved it. When Spike had moved out Xander had missed it fiercely, but hadn't ever expected for it to happen again. Now that it was... he would savor. He could feel his arousal growing, and sighed. Time to get up, start his day, go to work. Reluctantly, he pried himself loose from the vampire's grip and slithered out of bed. He opened his dresser drawers, trying to be quiet while grabbing underwear and jeans, socks and a t-shirt. He turned towards the bathroom and noticed Spike had shifted in the bed, moving over into the warm place left by Xander's body, cuddling his pillow close and burrowing down. Xander couldn't help it - he grinned, and kept grinning as he dressed and washed and got ready for the day - grinned at himself in the mirror until the soldier barked at him to hurry up. Six o'clock - gotta be on site by six-thirty. Xander went quietly out to the kitchen and even grinned at the mess Spike had left; duster crumpled over his chair and smokes, lighter, ashtray, dirty mug scattered on the table with random ashes and a few drops of dried blood. Xander put the mug to soak in the sink and dumped the ashtray, then put it back with the cigarettes and lighter near Spike's chair. Then he got some cereal and a glass of grape juice and turned on the radio to hear the weather. Mild and sunny - chilly after the sun went down. Christmas was past, and it was still cool enough to wear a jacket, even during the day. Xander loved this time of year, when the relentless California heat took a break and they got the merest hint that there were actual seasons out there. Then the weather was over and the DJ got on, loud and obnoxious - the 'morning wake-up' thing that Xander hated. Finally the DJ announced the next song - Nine Inch Nails - and it started playing . Xander hadn't heard this one before. He listened to it, crunching, and it seemed...eerily apt. Trust Trent to have a song about my personal angst
Xander finished his cereal and washed the few dishes, stacking them in the drainer and wiping the counter and table down. He'd only lived here a few weeks - had, in fact, moved out of his parent's house the same week Spike had - but he loved his little house already and felt the urge to take care of it. So different from the basement. He reached to turn off the radio, pausing to hear the end of the song.
Xander sighed and turned it off. You and me both, Trent He crept through the bedroom to the bathroom and brushed his teeth, then got a heavy flannel jacket from the closet and searched around for his work boots. They were half under the bed on his side, and he sat down on the floor and pulled them on, lacing them up, going fast. Done, he lifted his head to take a last look at the sleeping vampire. Cobalt eyes peered back at him, tangled hair like a dandelion clock, pale-satin skin... Xander blinked, and put his finger to his lips. "I'm just going. Back before six. I'll have more blood and some Chinese or something, ok?" he whispered. "Dumplings and lots of soy sauce," Spike whispered back, and Xander grinned. Spike nestled back down into Xander's pillow and Xander stood up and walked out, grabbing his keys and wallet from the kitchen counter, stuffing a couple of apples into the pockets of the flannel. He stopped just inside the living room - went back and pulled the blinds shut in the kitchen, window and door, and made sure the chain was across the kitchen door. Then he was gone, grinning so hard he thought his face would crack. Spike would be there when he got home.
Some time after noon and Spike startled out of sleep. What was that? He lay frozen, listening, but after a moment realized he'd only been dreaming. Yeah. Dreaming. Nice word for... The house was silent except for the wind and the dry rushing of the surf, rolling in somewhere nearby. Spike relaxed, stretching hard, luxuriating in the softness of the bed. He hadn't got a bed at the crypt yet, and Xander's was nice, just soft enough to burrow into. He closed his eyes and lay there for another minute, but sleep was elusive and finally he decided to get up. He took another shower Don't know how bloody nice it is, to have all this hot water at their fingertips and used Xander's toothbrush, wondering if the boy had figured out he'd used it the night before. Probably not. Maybe he didn't care, though - not if what Spike had scented and heard in the shower last night was because of himself. And wouldn't that be bloody ironic. A 'Scooby' lustin' after a vamp. And has been since the basement, unless I miss my guess. Can't say as I blame him. Spike smirked. He hadn't seen himself in a mirror in over a century, but he knew he looked damn good. He wandered out to the kitchen, noticing his lighter and smokes stacked by the ashtray, his duster folded over the back of the couch. Even the bloody mug clean and in the dish-rack. Least he knows how to keep a place. 'Cept he never kept the basement like this. Guess he likes this place. Spike heated up a mug-full of blood - human blood, and that made him grin - and settled into a chair to smoke and drink. He noticed that even if the house had had all its blinds up it was still pretty gloomy, surrounded as it was by eucalyptus, sycamore, and pine. Their shadows danced behind the blinds and the steady breeze from the west added the soft susurrus of rustling leaves to the ambient. Blood finished, smoke clenched in his teeth, he got his jeans out of the bathroom and pulled them on, then surveyed with distaste his bloody, torn shirt. Said he'd find me a shirt - guess I'll just have to find one fer myself. Hope he's got something besides those bloody monstrosities I had to choose from in the basement. Spike threw his shirt away and went into the bedroom. He opened the top drawer of the dresser and found piles of t-shirts: white, blue, green, a red one and a yellow one. No black. Wait - there was a small pile of undershirts, the kind people called wife-beaters, and he pulled one of those out. It wasn't as big as the t-shirts would have been, and he smoothed it down over his belly. White, but better then baggy. He fixed another mug of blood and went into the living room - clicked on the TV. It took him just under two minutes to realize Xander didn't have cable and got about five channels. He switched off in disgust. Great. Bloody wanker. Who has a TV and no cable? This is gonna be a bloody boring day. He got up, abandoning his empty mug on the coffee table, and lit another cigarette. Nuthin' to do but snoop he thought, smirking. Snooping took about an hour. He turned out every drawer and cabinet, went through the closet and all the boxes that were piled in the corner by the washing machine - boxes Xander hadn't unpacked yet. He didn't find much. In the bottom of the last box, amidst worn paperbacks and book club hardbacks were some matchbooks from a place called the 'Fabulous Ladies Night Club'. And a picture of Xander with his arm around the shoulders of a handsome, black-haired man. Spike looked at it closely. Never seen this bloke before. Looks like they were close, though For some reason that thought unsettled him. He shoved the picture away. Done snooping, he wandered back into the kitchen, bored and jittery. The confrontation with the soldiers the night before - the damn tracer and the Watcher being such a bloody prick had all left him on edge. He felt like kicking the living shit out of something. Bloody fuckin' bastards. The lot of 'em. And the damn Slayer, serves her right, too bad that demon didn't slit her gullet for her and be done. Get this thing out of me, I'll show 'em how it's done, the fucks... But while he pictured bloody havoc and screaming vengeance on all and sundry, another voice in his head - a tiny voice, but audible none the less - whispered something else entirely. But are you going to do that to him, too? He's taking care of you - he's being good to you. And he doesn't have to, you know that. He kissed you...don't you want to know why? Spike snarled to himself, the demon coming to the fore and then flickering away. Course I want to know. Doesn't mean I don't want to kill his bloody gang, though. He's not even part of the gang so much anymore. Got that job, got this place, doesn't seem to care fuck all about them. Skipped some meetings, didn't patrol - pissed Red off when he told her cookies did not make up for gettin' every demon in Sunnyhell after him that day, or blindin' the Watcher. Been natterin' at the Slayer about that Riley bastard, too. Doesn't trust him, as well he shouldn't... Curiouser and curiouser Spike snatched his duster off the couch and slumped into a kitchen chair. He went through his pockets, piling all the odds and ends on the table; picking through them, discarding a few things. He fanned through a pile of business cards and stopped on one he'd gotten just a few days ago. Clem. Yessss. This is exactly what we need here Grinning, he got up and grabbed the phone and dialed the number on the card, ignoring the little voice that said We? How'd that happen? "Clem? It's Spike. You were just over at my crypt the other day. Right, in Memorial Gardens. I got another job for you. Yeah, hang on..." Spike grabbed a stack of mail and read Xander's address off an electric bill. "Right. Bloody brilliant. See you in a bit, mate." Satisfied, he lit a cigarette and sorted his things back into his duster. Then he grabbed a box of Graham crackers out of the pantry and rooted out a jar of peanut butter and a knife and started making sandwiches. *`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*
Xander drove down his street, fighting the urge to floor it and get to his house quicker. He'd thought about Spike curled up in my bed all day - had, in fact, almost cut his hand open on a circular saw and had stumbled around the site in a daze. Manny his foreman had noticed and made him sit down and go over blueprints for the last couple of hours. Xander smiled, thinking about Manny. He was the owner's father and was teaching Xander woodworking skills - how to make custom cabinets, tables, desks. It was amazing and interesting. And I'm good at it, which is really amazing Manny owned Xander's house - all the houses in this cul-de-sac - and had helped Xander do a few repairs before he'd moved in. 'Shotgun houses', Manny called them. Built during the war, when military and civilians alike flooded into Sunnydale to train and to work in the factories. The tiny lots had been planted with trees and the whole street was shady and green. And the best part, to Xander's way of thinking, was the bluff and the beach, barely a quarter of a mile away. Just outside his back door, really. And even if it was a small, rocky beach, the endless whisper of the surf was comforting and relaxing. Xander loved it. As Xander neared his house, he spotted a rusting white panel van parked outside. He pulled into the drive and got out, frowning at it. The van had a ladder and a couple bundles of cable attached to the roof, but no company name or logo on its dusty sides. He felt his stomach clench up, paranoia kicking into overdrive. What the hell is up with that van. Is it - could it be the Initiative? Are they in the house? Did they find Spike? Oh fuckfuckfuck. Breathe, damnit, get inside and see what's going on first Xander grabbed his cooler and the big bag of Chinese in one hand, and his tool belt in the other. At the very least, he could swing it, sending the hammer and screwdrivers into someone's face. He walked up to his front door, took a deep breath, and opened it. Stepping inside he was temporarily blind in the dimness and he blinked furiously, trying to clear his vision. The first thing that he could see was a pale blonde head and the body beneath it, sitting at the kitchen table wreathed in smoke. There was someone on the other side. "Hey, Spike," he called, shutting the door behind him. "Did'ja get dumplings, mate?" "Course I did... We got company?" Xander approached the kitchen warily and felt the knot in his stomach loosen a bit as he took in the visitor. A humanoid figure, with drooping ears and folds of loose skin and big eyes like a puppy. A demon. And when your company is a demon and that's a relief you know your life is too twisted for color TV "Yeah - mate a' mine. This is Clem. Clem, this is Xander." The floppy-eared demon grinned nervously at him, making a small wave with his hand. "Hey there, Xander." "Hey, uh, Clem." Xander dropped his tool belt and came all the way into the kitchen. He put the Chinese on the table and went to unpack the cooler. Spike watched him, grinning, and Xander noticed suddenly that the vampire was wearing one of Xander's undershirts. Spike's pale arms glowed in the dim, greenish light that suffused the shuttered house and Xander stared at him for a minute before turning hastily and unpacking the cooler into the 'fridge. He grabbed two beers and a soda and shut the door, then turned to Spike and Clem. "So - have a good day?" He set the beers on the table and pulled a chair out, just then noticing that Spike and Clem already had beers. But theirs are mostly empty, so that's ok. Fuck, he looks good in my shirt Hastily, he opened his soda and took a long drink. "Bloody boring. That's why I called Clem. He works for one of those satellite companies. Got us a satellite." "Oh? He - a satellite? What're you - " "You know - satellite TV? I set up accounts, mount the hardware, that sort of thing." Clem bobbed a little in his seat, as if Xander were making him nervous. "Now you've got, oh, about five hundred channels." "Five hundred ch - ? Uh - Spike, I really can't afford that many channels. I mean, that's kind of why I gave the whole cable thing a miss, you know?" Spike puffed on his cigarette, elbow-deep in the bag of food, setting the little red and white cartons down in an ever-expanding circle around him. "Don't worry 'bout it, Xander, Clem an' me have an understanding, okay? Can't sit around here all bloody day watching five channels. I'd go barkin'. Ah, dumplings." "Hmm. Okay... This 'understanding' won't get me thrown in jail, will it, Clem?" Clem jumped a little, eyeing Xander over his beer. "Uh, no. Not at all." Xander looked at him and Clem grinned. Just go with it. Spike's staying so he can watch five hundred channels! Ahem. Xander tried to quell the excited fluttering that his stomach was doing. Suddenly, he felt giddy. "Great. That's great. Hey, Clem, want to join us for dinner? Got plenty." "Oh no, no, no. Can't do that. Got another installation to make today. Thanks anyway, though. It was, uh, real nice to meet you, Xander. See ya, Spike. You call me if anything isn't working, ok?" "Right, mate. Thanks." Spike waved a chopstick-skewered dumpling at Clem and watched as the demon let himself out. "That Clem's a good guy," Spike mused, and stuffed the dumpling in his mouth. 3 Secrets When they'd eaten all the Chinese, and flipped through at least three hundred of the five hundred channels, Spike finally turned the TV off and looked at Xander. Xander immediately felt his stomach clench tight. Now it comes. The moment I have not been waiting for. Ok - bare essentials and we'll be fine. Oh, fuck "Now what's gotten you into such a tizzy, mate?" Spike was looking at him, and Xander tried to slow his heart down by sheer force of will. "I - uh - n-nothing at all, I'm fine." He gulped the last of what was probably one too many beers and set the bottle down a little too hard. They both winced at the sharp crack of it, and Xander had to check to be sure it wasn't broken. "I wanna know - what's goin' on. That kiss - you takin' me in - everything. Right?" "Right," Xander echoed faintly. He was less then delighted about telling his 'story', but he had to tell someone. If only to be telling someone. It was lonely, having a secret. And it wasn't one he was willing, right now, to share with the girls or Giles. It'd mean a lecture from at least two of them, and pouting and hurt faces from the girls. Maybe even yelling from Buffy. And he just wasn't up to it. He shifted a little on the couch, tucking his feet under him, and Spike shifted too, so they were facing each other. "Ok - I went road-tripping this summer and didn't get very far - Oxnard, to be exact. And...stuff happened and...the night before I left to come back here, I met someone - helped someone out, actually. And he - he had this - he gave me..." "Just tell it. Start at the beginning and go on until the end, right?" Spike looked only serious and interested, no smirk and no snark, so Xander took a deep breath and told him.
When he finished his story, Xander was staring fixedly at his hands, and he felt rather then saw Spike move towards him. Move and then stop, and then take an unneeded breath. Xander finally risked a glance up and saw Spike just sitting there, looking... That's thoughtful. Not pissed and not sneering and not...pissed. Thoughtful. Which is...good? Spike stretched to the coffee table and got a cigarette. He lit it and puffed on it for a minute, staring into space. Finally, he looked over at Xander and Xander flinched from the look in his eyes. Anger. Calculation. And was that...fear? Damn. Thoughtful was NOT good. Here it comes "Ssssoooo..." Spike hissed like a snake - a big, blond, scary snake, despite the Initiative hardware. "You can see someone's 'true heart', huh? Their soul? Demons souls? And what makes you think demons have souls, mate?" "Ummmm. Actually - Giles." "What?" "Well - ummmm - before you got here - to Sunnydale, I mean, there was this - incident. Willow scanned this book and it turned out it was this demon and he got into the computer and then he was in the Internet and he was, uh, tricking Willow and a couple guys into doing stuff for him and one guy tried to kill Buffy and - " "Stop, stop. Bloody hell. What did the Watcher say to make you think demons - that demon - had a soul?" Spike sucked the last half-inch of his cigarette down to ash and stubbed it out fiercely, his eyes never leaving Xander's face. "Uh, well, he was explaining that the book had been a trap - these guys had 'trapped the demon's soul for all eternity' in the book and the only way to let him out was to read him. It. The book. Which the computer did when Willow scanned it." Xander examined his fingernails, then looked up hastily when Spike spoke again. "So, you been usin' this...gift. Been lookin' at things?" "Yeah." "Been lookin' at me?" Xander flinched a little and looked back at his fingernails. "Yeah, actually. Once." "Not your business, lookin'." "I know, but... I'd used it out on patrol with Buffy a couple of times and I had to see...if you were..." "Good? Evil? Fucked? Which would it be?" "Uh. None of the above?" Spike looked suprised at that, and Xander straightened a little. He wasn't going to be intimidated - Jack's gift was amazing, and he wasn't going to be afraid of using it, or of telling Spike what he'd seen. "Listen. Giles is right - demons do have souls. Demon-y souls. They're different than people souls...I mean, obviously...but they're there nonetheless. A lot of them are really - horrible. The ones Buffy kills are mostly pretty bad, and a few that are just...around - they're scary. But a lot of them are...well, take Manny." "Who the bloody hell is Manny?" "He's my boss. He owns this house. His son owns the company I work for. He's from Portugal - left right before the war and moved here. And he's - a demon. His whole family is - are. He told me what kind, I can't remember right this minute. But he's - he's a nice guy. He's teaching me stuff. I even got invited to do Christmas Eve at his house." Xander smiled at that memory - he'd never spent a Christmas that didn't involve drunks, fights, humiliation and a fun-filled night on the lawn in his sleeping bag. When the terrors of the Hellmouth paled in comparison to a holiday get-together with your nearest and dearest, you were in deep trouble. Xander had to shush the petty little voice that reminded him that neither Buffy nor Giles or even Willow had ever done anything to make a sleeping bag on the lawn in vamp central unnecessary. "You still with me, mate? 'Cause holiday bloody cheer and all aside, what the fuck does this have to do with me?" Xander laughed - of course, that was how Spike would see this. "Well, lots, maybe. I'm trying to say, Manny and his family are good people - demons - whatever. I looked at them. And I could see their hearts, and I could see their souls. They want what most of us want - a place to live, their family safe and happy... Just normal. I mean - half his family is human, they did the inter-species marriage thing. About half the demons at Willy's are like that -" "You keep the fuck away from Willy's. Bad element in there, could get you...hurt." Spike looked discomfited by what he'd just said and lit another cigarette, frowning. Xander ruthlessly squashed the little voice that burbled happily in his head. Worried about me, he's worried about me! "You go to Willy's." "'M a demon,. It's the kind of place demons go. 'Sides, I don't go there anymore, and you better not, either." "Why not?" Xander asked, and Spike looked at his cigarette, looked at his nails - the black polish was badly chipped, and he picked at it - looked at the ceiling. Looked sheepishly at Xander when Xander cleared his throat. "Not real popular in Sunnyhell just now, am I? Been seen 'helpin' the Slayer', killing my kind - they don't trust me. Got banged about a bit, last time I went there. Blacklisted, as it were." This recollection seemed to piss Spike off and he scowled at Xander, taking a deep puff of his cigarette, blowing smoke across the couch towards the mortal. "Back to the point. What do you see when you look at...vampires?" Spike said 'vampires', but Xander heard the 'me' in there, and he looked down at his hands again for a minute to hide the smile. "I see mostly what Giles says. Animals who want to kill and destroy. The part that's human - whatever makes them remember stuff from before they were turned - it's tiny. It's all - dark and squashed and...hurt. It's like the demon rips it apart and keeps what it needs and the rest just gets - locked away. But some vampires are different. It's like the human soul was strong enough to fight the demon off - or like the demon didn't mind the human, or something. The ones that still have a human soul - they've got the demon soul too, they've got both. You'll laugh, but Harmony still has her soul. I guess it's why she's still... Harmony. I mean, no demon on earth could stand up to a Cordette in full-on snark mode." They both laughed; Spike mostly because he knew vampire-Harmony pretty well, and Xander because it was still just too bizarre; Harmony as take-over-the-world evil vampire. "When did you...look at me," Spike asked, and Xander bit his lip for a moment. "The first night you stayed in the basement with me." Spike looked at him, finishing his cigarette - thinking. "That why you...? Never mind." He crushed the cigarette out, frowning. That's why I let you share the bed with me.
Xander thought.
He took a deep breath. Now or
never. "You've still got your human
soul too, Spike." Xander said it
softly, but the vampire's reaction was instantaneous and violent. Spike leapt to his feet and hurled his beer
bottle across the room - snatched Xander's and did the same, then swooped down
to get right into Xander's face. The
mortal flinched back as Spike's demon came to the fore and snarled at him. "Soul - you're saying there's a human here, Harris? Demon, here, no bloody hag-ridden poufter." "Spike," Xander whispered, trying not to look him in the eye; the hyena wanted him to bare his throat, show subservience, but Xander wouldn't go that far - wasn't that stupid. The soldier fervently backed him up on this. "Spike, please? Let me tell you." The vampire spun away, growling, and Xander just sat still, watching him pace, watching his fists clench until blood seeped out from under his nails. Finally Spike stopped and stood by the window. He pushed the curtain aside and stared blindly out. His back was quivering with tension, and Xander wanted to get up and smooth it - touch and rub and pet until the vampire was calm again. Xander clenched his own hands down tight, knowing he'd likely get smacked across the room if he touched the vampire right now. And while he could maybe deal with that Ok, no, I'd be pissed as hell there was no way he was going to trigger that damn chip. So he waited. After what seemed ages - probably really only about five minutes - Spike let the curtain fall closed with a sigh and came back to the couch, rubbing his palms on his thighs. He flopped down and stared at Xander, and finally nodded. "Right. Tell me - what it is you see, exactly." "Ok. I'm going to really - look, ok?" Spike looked puzzled, but nodded again, and Xander whispered the word. Taisbean. Spike twitched a little, but sat still. And Xander looked, and told him. "I see the demon. He...it...whatever - glows. This dark, dark gold, like fire. And there are all these - sparks. Gold and red and black, flying around, going through him - through you. And then there's - you, or maybe William, I don't know. Longer hair, darker. Not so - hard. That part glows, too, paler - more like sunlight. And a lot of the time they're - together. Merged, like...kind of like you when you go all grrr only... Well, it's hard to describe. But the sparks around him are white and silver, and they go into the demon, and the demon's go into him. They're just kind of - there, like ghosts, hovering just...inside you. I can see the bad stuff, Spike. I can see how you got your name. I can see...the right hand of the Scourge of Europe there, you know? Old and blackened blood sheathing blunt claws...gore-stained fangs that leer. And more then that - not only vision but feeling. Malevolence. Remorseless hate. The urge to destroy and absolutely nothing to stand in its way. Nothing but the human part. "But...I can see how much you loved Drusilla, too. I can see it... I can see why you made that deal with Buffy, to keep Angelus from waking Acathla. The human part - it had to be William - strong enough to hold the demon - subsume it into himself and keep it still, keep it...under control. Obvious, when the human part wrapped itself around the demon and the demon closed its eyes in bliss and surrender, the blood and fury simply fading away. A feeling of connection, some sort of connection, and the demon wanted it badly enough to give in. The human had wanted it badly, too. Enough to give in to Drusilla . Because that was there, too - the feeling that Drusilla, of everyone Spike had ever known, had seen him. And wanted exactly what she had seen. "It's all there. It's..." Xander wanted to say beautiful but he wasn't sure if Spike wanted to hear that. So instead, he ended with: "It's amazing. And - lucky you - not a trace of poufter anywhere." Spike was staring at him, his eyes so wide they looked cartoonish,looks like a manga character and then he snorted. Snorted again and was laughing, and then was laughing so hard he actually cried. As Spike lay helplessly on the couch, Xander started laughing, too, and poked Spike in the ribs with his foot. The sparks were whirling faster - fast enough to make Xander dizzy, and the demon looked - puzzled. That made Xander laugh harder. He poked the vampire again and Spike batted at his foot. Poked a third time and suddenly Spike grabbed his foot and yanked; pulled Xander halfway across the couch and snatched him upwards by his shirt front. Xander ended inches from the vampire, chest to chest, Spike's hands tight on his biceps, one leg over Spike's thigh, the other squashed underneath. "That why you kissed me, then? 'Cause you saw this - my - soul?" "That - that's part of it," Xander gasped out. The souls, this close, were more a golden aura then anything else, the sparks dazzling and dancing as if Xander had cracked his head on something. Oh man, don't mess this up, come on, calm down, just tell him... Oh, he smells so good, he - love his eyes, love how his eyebrows are so dark, love how his eyelashes are so long... That scar is really deep, must have hurt to get that...want to kiss him again... "Well? What was the other part?" "I - thought about you. All the time. Ever since that first time that... When Angel tried to trick you into biting me. And after. I just - couldn't get you out of my mind. Couldn't get you out of my mind..." Xander whispered, and he leaned forward, the tiny bit he needed to, and kissed Spike again. A light, careful kiss, hardly daring to press, not daring to move at all. Xander felt Spike's hands clench tighter on his arms, and then he felt Spike start to kiss him back. To move closer and press harder and for a moment they were actually kissing; cool and wet and Spike's tongue just touching his. And then Spike pulled away - let go and backed away completely, until nothing was touching at all. Xander couldn't move. His lips were tingling - fuck, his whole body was tingling - and he wanted to pounce and get back into that taste, that scent...feel that lean and whipcorded body against his. He bit his lip, hard, watching Spike, and Spike scrubbed his hands back through his hair and sighed. "I need to - I gotta think about this. I can't...I..." Spike shot to his feet and started pacing again, and Xander stood slowly and went into the kitchen. He got the broom and dustpan from the cabinet and went back to the living room. Spike had lit a cigarette as he paced and trailed smoke like a slim blond dragon. Xander had to smile. He went over to the wall where Spike had thrown the beer bottles - and thank god he hadn't hit the TV - and started to sweep. He was mindful of his bare feet, but when a piece got lodged under the edge of his bookshelf, he bent and carelessly tried to wrench it out. The glass sliced right into his finger, of course, and he straightened with a curse, wincing. "What did -? You're bleeding." Spike was right there, grabbing Xander's hand, looking at the cut and the blood that welled and ran down into Xanders palm. His eyes were dark and the tip of his tongue came out to touch his lip. "It's ok - not a big cut, didn't hurt much..." Xander watched Spike - watched the shivers that gripped him as he scented the blood. Watched Spike's eyes go gold and baleful as the demon longed for it - looked, and saw the demon's color darken further, saw the sparks take on a reddish tinge. And the human part looked to be in pain. Not from the bloodlust but from the demon, whose insubstantial claws were scrabbling at the black spot in their skull - a spot like a cancer. The chip. Xander stared at it, that ugly spot of deadness in the glowing creature he... Loved. You love him. "Spike, you - you can -" Xander didn't know what to say - how to say it. Instead he simply lifted his hand, offering, and Spike stared at him, demon-eyed. Then he bent his head and licked, like a great cat - licked every drop and streak and trailing line, and lapped at the small pool that had gathered in Xander's palm. And then he pulled Xander's finger into his mouth and groaned, sucking the blood, eyes shut, and Xander felt it like fire all over his body, racing to that place. He felt himself harden, felt arousal like a wave of heat and cold wash through. Oh god, oh...if this is what it feels like to be taken, what does taking feel like, what is he - ooooh...fuck... Xander swayed, and Spike pulled away slowly, letting his tongue trail over Xander's finger, the lambent gaze on Xander's face now, watching him. Xander stared back, marveling. The demon glowed like a bed of coals - the human part almost white, emerging for a moment and then sinking away, merging with the demon. The sparks were still reddish, swirling in a languorous dance. I think it felt - even more incredible - to be on his end. Fuck he looks...beautiful...sexy...want... "Xander?" Spike was still staring at him, and Xander blinked and looked down at his finger. The cut was closed over, a raw-looking slash of red, but one that looked a couple days old, rather then minutes. "Xander..." Spike whispered, and the hand still holding Xander's was trembling. Xander realized that he was trembling. "Wh - what?" "Why'd you let me do that?" Spike whispered, and his voice was raw with want and need and...something. "Because I could - see you. I could see you." Spike closed his eyes, and his grip on Xander's hand became crushingly tight. Xander didn't flinch, didn't think about it, begging for the chip to not notice, not notice. Spike shook his head, the demon coming out, and he shot one last look at Xander and turned and ran. Xander just watched him - watched him go out the back door and across the grass, towards the bluff. The gibbous moon was high - small and cold and white - and its stark light showed the vampire running flat out, faster almost then Xander could track him. Spike ran to the edge of the bluff and was gone - dropping straight down the twenty feet between land and sea. Xander breathed a long sigh of relief. He wasn't going far, not without his boots -
his duster. But he was safe there, on
the beach. No Initiative, no
humans. Xander heard a grumbling,
shrieking roar, and knew it was Spike, pouring his frustrations into the night
sky, into the wash of diamante stars and endless cold black. Xander whispered ceil. No need for seeing
now.
*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*`*
Hours later. The sky was faintly pinking and Xander was lying in bed, stiff from nerves, exhausted. He finally heard the door creak open and then click shut. He closed his eyes and listened to Spike coming into the bedroom, the soft swish of clothing being removed and tossed aside. Then Spike slid into the bed, and Xander could feel his shivering across the mattress. He hesitated for a long moment, and then scooted over, reaching for the vampire. His fingers found chilled, damp flesh and muscles that shuddered from cold. "Damnit Spike - did you get wet? You'll freeze to death! What were you thinking? Were you thinking?" Xander got out of bed and quickly went around to the other side, not even contemplating the impossibility of the undead catching a cold. "Move over right now. Get onto my side, where I was lying. Come on, Spike!" Dimly, he could see Spike's pale head, his bleached hair matted and spiked from salt water. Spike looked at him and then obediently slid over, settling into Xander's warm spot with a sigh. Xander got back into the bed and curled himself around the frigid body, rubbing Spike's arms and getting as close as he could. All the while he murmured in Spike's ear, low and soft. "It's alright, Spike, it's ok, just let me get you warm, alright? Just let me hold you and warm you up, ok, it's alright, alright, I'll take care of you, keep you warm..." Xander rubbed and stroked, kneading tight muscles, smiling to himself as he touched the smooth skin; ran hands and fingers over a body that was satin over steel. After a little while Spike gave a great sigh, and his shivering, which had grown less and less, just stopped. Xander felt him finally relax, and he sighed and relaxed too, closing his eyes. He bit his lip, considering, and finally dropped a kiss on the back of Spike's neck, just below the salt-sticky hair. Spike shifted a little, and then he petted Xander's arm where it lay curled against the vampire's chest. "Wish I could see you, " he whispered, and Xander squeezed once, briefly, and burrowed a little closer. In a few minutes they were both deeply asleep.
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