Something Rich and Strange

by
Tabaqui

22 Remembering

Spike stirred in his sleep - moved his head a little, rubbing his cheek against Xander's stomach, and Xander ran his fingers gently through tangled, white-blond hair. Spike settled again, motionless, but Xander continued the gentle caress - meshed his fingers with Spike's where they lay on Xander's thigh. He was supposed to be asleep too, but he couldn't settle. So many things were running through his head - so many memories and moments. Oz had left a CD playing in the living room and the music came through to him softly. The ever-present sea-breeze blew through the window, puffing the curtains out, and the late-afternoon sun was dappled green and gold through the trees. Spike glowed, the diffused light making him otherworldly, all creamy-gold. The inhuman beauty that he wore so easily seemed out of place against the blue and green striped sheets, and Xander smiled fondly down at him from his half-sitting position - blinked at a sudden prickling in his eyes.

No, don't do that. Think about - something good. Something...happy. Think about anything but... Xander shut his eyes - pushed his mind away from the misery of the day and cast back. Back to the beginning of October, and that incident with Tara's family.

***************************

"But what kind of demon is she?" Anya asked, and Tara's dad looked at her with something like revulsion on his face.

"What kind? What does it matter? Evil is evil. She just has to come home, now, before things - get bad."

"No, I'd like to know what kind as well," Giles said, coming out from behind the counter and sending a rather Ripperish look at the other man. Tara stood miserably, her eyes brimmed with tears.

"There's lots of different kinds of demons," Anya went on, her voice slipping into lecture mode. "Some are evil and some are considered useful members of society." She glanced proudly at the others and continued. "Let's see, there's -" As Anya started rattling off various types of demons, Spike leaned in close to Xander, fingers rubbing in the small of his back.

Human - all human

Yeah Xander sent Spike a brief image from months' earlier - Tara's soul, gleaming gold and green and blue, and Spike nodded.

"Yeah - tell the Slayer," Spike murmured, then he sauntered over to where Tara and Willow were standing.

"I think I got your number, mate," he said, interrupting Anya and looking narrow-eyed at Mr. Maclay. "You just use this little 'demon' ploy to keep the women-folk in line, don't you? A little lie to make sure they stay where they belong, eh? She's no demon, and I can prove it." Tara and Willow were both staring at him now, and Giles had a gleam of something like amusement in his eyes. Xander touched Buffy's arm - drew her close with a jerk of his head.

"I've seen her - she's all human. Just play along, ok?" Buffy looked at him - opened her mouth - nodded.

"Prove it? There's nothing to prove, I know!" Tara's father sneered. Behind him, Tara's brother and cousin looked incredulous - furious. Spike tapped Tara on the shoulder.

"Sorry 'bout this, Glinda," he said, and drew back and punched her. Then he yelled and grabbed his head in his hands. "Bloody hell that hurts!"

"Ow!" Tara yelped - put her hand to her already-swelling lip. Willow gaped at Spike - blinked - then shot a triumphant look at the father.

"That hurt! Tara, it hurt!"

"Y-yeah it d-d-did! Oh!" Tara stared at Willow - was suddenly grinning, and Giles cleared his throat, fighting a smile himself. Spike moaned and rubbed at his head and Xander made 'awww' noises and pulled him into a one-armed hug.

Win an Oscar

"That proves that you're lying. If there were any demon in Tara, it wouldn't have hurt Spike to do that. So I suggest that you leave." Mr. Maclay stared at Giles- at his daughter - and puffed himself up like a toad.

"She belongs with her family, at home and you bunch aren't gonna keep her from us."

"Family?" Buffy looked indignant. "You want to take her home, Mr. Maclay, you go right ahead." Buffy crossed her arms - took on an expression that had sent fledges and Fyarl demons running. "But you'll have to go through me to get her." Tara gasped, and Willow grinned, and Dawn bounced up next to Buffy - copied the stance and the stare so well that Xander had to stifle a giggle.

"Me too."

"If you little girls think -" Mr. Maclay started, and Giles stepped up as well, glasses tucked into his pocket and his eyes absolutely Ripper.

"Not just little girls here, Mr. Maclay," he said, and the other man took a step back.

"We're with Buffy, too," Xander said, stepping up on the other side of Dawn. Spike was at his back - morphed into the demon and snarled - and Tara's brother and cousin jumped and huddled together, round-eyed. The street door opened behind them, the bell jangling.

"And me. Even though being a demon does have its perks," Anya said, hefting a suspiciously new-looking 'antique' dagger she had been marking down to half price.

"What is this!" Mr. Maclay barked, his voice a little strained, and he jumped at the quiet voice at his back.

"Whatever it is, I'm with them, too." Oz, standing in the door, wolf's eyes and a snarl lifting his lip, and Spike laughed - cut it off abruptly as Xander elbowed him. *Headache*

"This is family, Mr. Maclay, and Tara is part of it." Buffy narrowed her eyes. "So I suggest you leave. She's already home." Tara was weeping silently now, clinging to Willow who was stroking her hair and whispering to her. Oz skirted around the Maclays and joined the group, and finally the others broke - turned and began to shuffle out of the store. Tara's cousin turned back, a look of - regret? Or perhaps it was desire - desire to find the strength that Tara had found.

"Are you happy now?" she snapped, and Tara looked at her - looked at Willow, a smile of pure bliss on her face, making her glow. In that moment, despite the tears and the swollen lip, she was the most beautiful woman Xander had ever seen.

"Yes," she said.

Later, when Buffy had taken Dawn home, and Giles and Willow were in a heated discussion about a spell, and Oz - who'd been brought up to speed but was pretending nicely - was making Spike a cup of tea, Tara came over to where Xander and Spike were sitting on the wrought-iron staircase. Spike was leaning back between Xander's legs, getting his temples massaged, taking full advantage of being the 'hurting hero'. Tara had smiled at them, taken the handkerchief full of ice off her lip, and leaned in and kissed Spike softly on the cheek.

Drama queen Xander thought, smiling down at Spike, tracing the scarred eyebrow with one finger. Spike's hand tightened on his for a moment - he burrowed a little closer, and one leg edged over Xander's knees. Xander sighed in contentment - listened to the distant rush of the sea and closed his eyes, remembering other things. Remembering the troll, and how it had come rampaging into the Bronze, shouting for ale and banging into Spike, making him scratch the cue ball. Spike had stood up fast, cursing, and glared up at the furious troll.

"Watch yourself, mate!"

"I must have ale! And babies!"

"For babies you need the hospital -" Spike started, and Xander, who had been wondering whether or not to try and get the troll out of the club, yanked on his arm.

"Stop that! No babies!"

"Weeell..." Spike rubbed his chin, tilted his head at the troll. "They do this onion thing here, s'brilliant -"

"You cannot appease me!" The troll shouted, and things went rapidly downhill from there. This time it was Willow and Anya to the rescue, except that they - or maybe Willow - had called the troll in the first place. While Giles gave Willow what Spike referred to as 'a proper dressing-down', Anya reluctantly told them the tale of Olaf, Aud, D'Hoffryn, and how to become a Vengeance Demon in one easy step.

Eyes still closed, Xander smiled, his fingers never leaving off their slow petting of Spike's hair. A ghost of sound - faint, faint purr - rumbled up from the vampire. The troll-incident had been...right after Riley left for good. That was not a happy memory, but mostly because of how much it had hurt Buffy. Xander and Oz had been happy to see the ex-soldier go. So had Spike. He had, in fact, made sure Riley would never come back. Xander frowned - sighed. No point in trying - like it or not, the memory spooled out in his mind, and he was obliged to re-live it. I don't want to think about this, but I don't want to think about...today, either. Fuck, I just want to forget...everything.

**********************************

Spike had been acting - odd - for two nights, and the third night, Saturday, Xander and Oz had decided to wait up for him - make him talk. Spike was a little better at manipulating the link then Xander, and much better than Oz, and he'd been hiding something. Xander was prepared to sit on him while Oz played Billy Ray Cyrus' Achy Breaky Heart on repeat until he cracked. Xander declined to ask why Oz had a Billy Ray Cyrus CD in his collection, and Oz just grinned and pretended it was Devon's. They sat up watching a frenetic Bollywood movie on TV - Indian woman and men in amazing costumes, leaping and singing and swooning to sitar and skin drums. Oz occasionally pointed out a religious reference that made the plot, to him at least, heretical, and Xander just nodded wisely and watched cleavage and bare chests with equal appreciation. There was popcorn, a leftover mix of mini Halloween candy bars, and Spike's jealously guarded Jaffa Cakes spread out on the foot of the fold-out bed.

Around four a.m. Spike came home, announcing his presence a mile away with the grumbling roar of the DeSoto and something cacophonous and British on the stereo. The link had been full of bloodlust and anticipation and what Xander had come to recognize as satiation. Before-and-after-the-hunt feelings that he didn't think about too closely, most of the time. Tonight, as Spike parked the car and climbed out, aware of them, the link began to close down and Xander sent a Stop! before he even thought about it. Spike came in the front door and stood there, eyeing them.

Tell Xander thought, watching him, and Spike hesitated - took off his duster and slung it across the back of the battered recliner they'd recently acquired. Flung himself down into the same chair and looked broodingly at the TV for a moment.

"Tell what, pet?"

"C'mon, Spike," Xander said softly.

No secrets from the soldier, and:

Pack from Oz. Spike scrubbed his hands through his hair, disordering it and making it stick up in all directions.

"Right. I - found out somethin' about G.I. Joe." Spike stopped, looking at them, so serious and sober that Xander felt a little lurch of fear.

Tell, love.

"Remember, Xander, I told you people pay to have vamps feed off 'em?"

"Yeah..." Xander said, frowning, and then he and Oz both froze as Spike sent them a flurry of images. A warehouse somewhere near the docks. A room; filthy, dark, crowded. Riley sprawled on a broken-legged couch, a half-dressed vampire woman feeding from his arm, a naked one astride him. Riley's jeans were around his thighs - his free hand was clutched so hard on the second vamps' hips that he had drawn blood. She was moving languidly, obviously impaled on Riley. His mouth was pressed to her breast, and blood was there, streaking down her belly, dripping from his chin. Xander shook his head, as much to purge the image as in disbelief.

"Oh my god. Spike -"

Sick from Oz, and Spike looked sharply at him. Oz looked back.

"He's playing a fucking stupid game."

"Got that right, wolf."

"So - how'd you find out?" Xander asked, and Spike looked - embarrassed?

"Well...been going 'round to the Slayer's house every night, haven't I? Her mum's worried, and the Bit's worried... So I go 'round, make sure everything's...ok there." Spike scrubbed at his hair again - made a half-hearted effort to get a cigarette out of the duster and gave up. "And - couple nights ago, I saw that bastard headin' down to the docks. He looked - nervous. So I followed him." They all sat in silence for a moment, then Xander connected the rather blank look on Spike's face with the near-silent link.

"What did you do, Spike?" he asked softly, and Spike was on his feet, snarling, the demon out in seconds and Rage hate kill it The demon in the link strong enough to make Oz flicker halfway to the wolf.

"I fixed it, Xander. He could've been turned, any time. And then just waltz in there, Joyce and the Niblet all unsuspecting - I fixed it. Fixed all those bastards." His voice had started off loud but then had sunk away to almost nothing, to a hissing rasp that made the hair stand up on the back of Xander's neck. Beside him Oz shifted, snarling just a little. The link was heading towards incoherency - the images were bloodier and starting to become disconnected. Not Riley and vampire whores, anymore, but other soldiers - another place, and Xander shot to his feet and advanced on Spike - got his arms around him and held him, hard.

"Love, it's all right..." Safe safe always safe love you Spike was shivering - breathing hard - and Xander tugged him over to the bed - eased him down. Spike hunched there, leaning into Xander's embrace, one hand creeping out to Oz and clenching down when Oz slipped his now-human hand into Spike's.

"Just - tell us what happened, ok?" Xander smoothed the rumpled hair - kissed Spike's temple, and Spike heaved a sigh, eyes closed, fitting his head into crook of Xander's neck.

"Couple days ago, I found out. So I - went down there later, after he'd gone. Found out how long he'd been doing that. They'd been - givin' him a different one every time. Gettin' him addicted to it but not letting him - form any links. You know how bad he's been looking." Xander nodded, looking over at Oz. Riley had looked bad, lately - a greyish pallor, darkly-ringed eyes - his hands always shaking and his gaze never quite meeting anyone else's. He said it was just nerves - pressure from school. Xander thought about what Spike had just said.

"Wait - explain that to me. What do you mean - a different one every time?"

"Different vamp every time. You know how we - made the link? Shared blood?" Spike rubbed his cheek just a little on Xander's shoulder. "They didn't let him take blood from the same vamp twice. That makes him want it, but he never gets what his body's craving. Just more want, never satisfaction. Worse than skag, that. He'd be desperate enough to be to be turned - or just drained dry. They knew who he was." Spike leaned into Xander a little more, and Xander hugged his arms around the vampire - fought a rising sense of horror.

"So he's - addicted. And - dangerous."

Sick hurt mine KILL it "Yeah."

Pack pack pack from Oz, softly, and his fingers were rubbing gently over Spike's, chaffing them in both of his hands as if the vampire were suffering from cold.

"What - what did you do tonight, Spike?" Spike sighed, and raised his head - looked at Xander for a long moment, and his eyes were ancient, and implacable, and utterly cold.

"Took the Slayer to see him there."

"Oh Christ -" Xander was on his feet before he'd even thought about moving, and Spike just watched him, silent even in the link. "Spike, why - god, why did you do that?"

"He - could've hurt you, love. Or the wolf. Any of you. He needed to be gone."

"But - why take Buffy there? You know how - fuck." Hurt her Xander paced to the door and back, scowling.

Mine protect mine love you MINE overwhelming and fierce and Xander and Oz both flinched a little.

"Damnit, Xander, you think I give a fuck if the Slayer gets her little heart all bruised over that bastard?" Spike was up as well - up and so close to Xander that they were almost touching the length of their bodies. The demon glared out at him, and Xander stood still, watching. Family in the link and not a clue where it was coming from.

"He hurt you - he helped hurt the wolfling, never mind he thought better of it later. He put the Bit and Joyce in danger. And he fuckin' put his hands on me, Xander - he -" Spike's voice choked into silence and the link - full of anger, of hate and of fear - suddenly shattered into jagged shards of pain as Spike flung something at them; something hideous and savage and bloody and Oz was the wolf, furious. Xander reeled back from that freeze-frame of memory, crying out - tried to shut out the rest of the memory that rose, prompted by that image. He felt it - before, after, during - and he knew Oz did too. Felt the backlash as the images -soldiers, doctors, blood, pain - hit the werewolf and Xander tried frantically to shut it down. Then it was gone - done - and Xander stood swaying, his head in his hands. He'd seen those memories before - in nightmares, right after the claim spell. He'd never wanted to see them again. He could hear Oz - a soft whimpering - and Spike panting raggedly somewhere. Xander opened his eyes - took a stumbling step forward and hauled Spike up from where he'd collapsed to his knees.

Sorry sorry love you sorry oh gods Spike was on his knees again, elbows on the bed and face buried in his hands. The full change had shredded the worn jeans Oz had been wearing and he fumbled at the sheet - pulled it over himself, up to his waist and hunched there, miserable looking.

Hurt hurt hurt from him, and Spike dragged in a hard, shaky breath.

"Wolf - Oz - fuck, I'm sorry, I - didn't want you to see that, I -" Spike's voice was ragged - teary - and Oz leaned forward and rested his forehead on Spike's temple.

Safe.

Sorry love you, Xander, love you so sorry Xander sagged down on the other side of Spike - reached and began a slow, gentle massage of Spike's neck. They simply rested there for long moments, the link thick with reassurance - with love. Finally Spike shifted - sat slowly back on his heels, taking one of Xander's hands in his, and one of Oz's in the other.

"All right, wolfling?" he asked softly, and Oz wiped at his eyes - nodded. Xander studied their hands, rubbing his thumb over and over Spike's knuckles.

Spike's hands are so - elegant. Like a painter's hands. And Oz - he's got those calluses from the guitar and those long fingers... My hands look so - common. Xander took a deep breath and Spike looked up at him, his eyes bluer for being awash in unshed tears, his mouth in a grim line.

"I don't - I don’t care about Riley, Spike. He deserves whatever he gets. But - Buffy..."

"I know it hurt her, pet. But what was I supposed to do? She wouldn't have just believed me if I'd told her."

"Maybe. Maybe not. What - what did she do?"

"Started knockin' hell outta the vamps there. Chased the customers off. When I left, her and the farmboy were havin' a knock-down drag-out. The Army wants him back, you know."

"They do?" Xander glanced over at Oz, who shrugged.

"Yeah. He said - they're in town, wantin' him back, an' tonight's the night. He stays or he goes."

"Guess he'll be going, then." Xander muttered. Beside him, Oz shifted a little bit - reached with his free hand and touched Spike's arm.

"What else, Spike? You said you fixed them all." Spike looked at Oz, head to one side a little, and the link was Not pack never touch you

"Yeah. I had - well, there's this bloke I know. Demon. And I had him do me up a little...time-bomb. Been waitin' to use it."

Tell

"Well...he made a fetch. Like a - ghost. Of one of the soldier-boys." Dead boy and Xander shivered. It was Graham that was dead.

"It went to where they were waitin' for him tonight. It was - there's this spell..."

"Just the basics, ok?" Xander whispered, and Spike's hand clenched tight in his.

"It was infected. This spell - it's like a plague. The fetch went in with them - went through them. They've got it now, and they'll spread it. They'll take it back down to Brazil and it'll go through the bastards like wildfire." Glee and hatred and a vicious triumph surged through the link, the demon reveling in malignant satisfaction. Xander closed his eyes for a long moment. He could feel Oz - Pack and Protect and GOOD; the wolf heedless of anything but the enemy eliminated. The hyena howled in savage joy, and the soldier - was just quiet. Glad to have it done.

But me, what does it mean to ME? Killed them all - killed RILEY. Xander let what the wolf - the demon - were feeling wash through him. Sampled those emotions - sipped at the brimming cup of bloodlust the hyena was ready to give him at a moment's notice. Waited for revulsion - for hatred - for guilt. Nothing.

"Xander - love -" please, please Spike's hands on either side of his face, thumbs slipping over his cheekbones, fingers delicately in his hair.

Love you from Oz, strong as he could, to both of them, and:

Love you both, keep you safe, love you love you from Spike, softly.

"I - I think... It's done now, right? Spike? Done now with them, with - all of that." Xander opened his eyes to Spike looking anxiously up at him, cool hands slipping down to settle lightly on his shoulders.

"Yeah. Done. Promise." Spike looked over at Oz, put out one hand to brush through darkly amber hair. "Sorry, wolfling. Shouldn't have done that - shouldn't have thrown that at you." Oz pushed into the vampire's touch.

Pack "It's ok. You - did what you had to. Had it worse than me. I'm not gonna - hold it against you." Spike smiled at the werewolf - real smile, and Oz ducked his head.

"Xan, love -"

"No, don't. It's like you're - apologizing - for being tortured. You - it's done, and I'm glad, and..." Xander looked at Spike - into eyes full of pain, now - of love and fear.

"I love you, Spike. love you always You said you were gonna take them out and you did. You did. I was just... I wish Buffy hadn't gotten hurt. I'm sorry -"

"No, love. You're laughter hearthfire white knight too good for this crap. I did - hurt her. And I liked it. But, it's done now, and I won't - won't make it worse. All right, love? I don't want to hurt you - I try not to hurt you -" Xander pulled him close - held him as tightly as he could, wishing he had vampire strength to make Spike feel - make him understand - that he'd never let him go, never give up on him. He could only send his love and his want and his promises through the link, over and over, sending it to Oz as well, doing his best to pull the raveled edges back together. To purge the fear and the sorrow and make them whole again, family again.

Xander sighed - shifted just a little. The ghostly purr from Spike had stopped - Xander's hand had stopped stroking his hair. He resumed that caress, trying to force his mind into more pleasant channels - more specific memories, but his mind kept skittering away from those things - that person. Kept jumping to other days and events, leaving her a blur. He saw Dawn in his mind again, standing cold and pale and utterly lost, her arm bleeding, her voice deadly calm as she asked them all: "Is this blood? It can't be me...I'm not a key - not a thing." Her impotent rage at all of them - Buffy trying to explain - to soothe - and Dawn running away. Running out into the night and the frantic search for her that ended at the hospital and Glory, Glory there, tossing Buffy and Spike and all of them away from her as if they were made of straw. Only Tara and Willow could do anything, and the teleportation spell had drained Willow badly - hurt her. After that, Dawn had been sullen and weepy by turns, and they'd had several all-night Scooby sessions, trying their best to find something - anything - that would help them. Glory like a malignant shadow over all, her strength and seeming invulnerability making Buffy anxious and angry.

Even Christmas - Joyce and Buffy making pies, Giles going with Xander and Oz to collect a stately spruce, Dawn and Tara hanging tinsel and giggling as Willow lectured about the blatant hypocrisy of the Religious Right co-opting a Pagan ritual for their own... Even that had seemed slightly frenetic. A put-on, as if they were scrambling for normalcy in the face of utter chaos. Which, Xander supposed, they were, in a way. But they'd tried. Dawn had nagged at the three of them to get with the season - to decorate and put up a tree. Had nagged incessantly, in fact, until Spike lost his patience and told her no.

"Leave off, Bit! I haven't done Christmas since I was human, and I'm bloody well not going to start back now!"

"What?" Dawn had gaped at him, sitting on the couch with a manicure set spread out around her, diligently doing her nails and trying to talk Spike into letting her do his. "What do you mean - you went, like, a hundred years without a - a tree or presents or - anything?"

"Dru didn't like Christmas. It reminded her of the sisters. She was gonna be a nun right before Angel got to her, and Christmas made her... Well, let's just say it made her re-live some bad memories." Dawn frowned, carefully laying down a perfect stripe of pale pink lacquer on her index finger.

"Ok, so - what was Christmas like when you were - were human? What did you do?"

"Fuck's sake -"

"Oh, c'mon Spike. Tell her." Xander grinned at him from the kitchen where he was making eggnog - his only concession to the season. Oz was out. Had, in fact, been spending more nights out than not. Spike and Xander suspected...someone.

"Christ! Fine. We didn't have a bloody huge tree like you lot have - we had a nice one that sat up on the table in the front parlor. Mother and I made decorations for it - paper chains and little paper figures - all kinds of things. And candles. And - we put garlands up everywhere, and had carolers at the house, and parties... Someone was always getting married, and there were all kinds of theatricals and things..." Dawn was staring openmouthed at Spike, and Xander just stood in the kitchen, his eyes closed, reliving those memories with Spike. Seeing Mother Cousin Frieda Uncle Leonard...Father... Spike stood up abruptly and went to the open window, lighting a cigarette and staring out into the night.

"What - what did you do at the parties?" Dawn asked, subdued, and Spike inhaled - exhaled - turned to look at her, his gaze softening a bit.

"Oh, we - we played Authors and Blind-man's Buff and The Ministers' Cat... and there were crackers to pull, and the Plum pudding, and dancing... And sometimes there were skating parties, and sleighing - when Father was alive." Spike fell silent again, smoking and looking at nothing, the link thick with nostalgia - with a deep, tearing ache whenever Spike though of his long-dead father.

Love you, don't be sad, not alone Xander sent softly, and Spike sent him a flashing smile.

I know. Love you.

"But - it sounds like - it was really cool. Why don't you want to do that stuff anymore?" Dawn was carefully capping her nail polish, fingers spread wide so she wouldn't smudge her still-wet nails. Spike snorted - pushed away from the wall and stalked back over to the couch, crushing out the cigarette.

"Not the same, is it? It's all so - plastic now. So loud. Everybody runnin' around, buyin' stuff, goin' crazy. And - it's too warm here. Can't have a proper Wassail in all this heat - can't cut your own garlands or you'll get arrested. It's just - not the same." He slumped down in the chair again, looking dissatisfied and a little glum, and Dawn watched him for a minute before wandering into the kitchen.

"Did I make him mad?" she whispered to Xander, and Xander pulled her into a quick hug, stroking her hair.

"Nah. He's just - remembering, you know? All his family's gone, it's kinda...sad, sometimes."

Not gone. You're family. The best family. Forever.

"Oh." Dawn looked down at her nails - looked up at Xander, sudden excitement in her face. "I'm going to tell mom she has to invite him to Christmas dinner! She and Buffy were talking about having Mr. Giles over, but I'm going to tell her we have to have a real party - invite everybody! You guys'll come, won't you? Please? We can make Spike tell us how to play those games and - and it'll be great! Please say you'll come, Xander!" Xander looked at her wide, happy eyes - at the pleading expression in them. She wanted to be normal, so badly. To forget about being the Key - to forget about Glory. Xander knew that was why she'd badgered her mom into a huge tree - into traditional cookies and tons of decorations. Knew that was why she was doing this, as well. Lived on the Hellmouth for four years, knows about demons and vamps and magic and things no little girl should know... But Christmas is still the biggest event of the year.

Party with the Slayer Xander thought, and grinned at the string of curses that came back. But a minute later Spike was standing in the doorway of the kitchen, smiling at Dawn.

"You ask your mum, Niblet, and if she says yes, then - we'll come. All right?" Dawn had shouted and hugged them both, and the party had gone rather well. Only one minor kitchen disaster (Buffy had dropped a pie), and Dawn had persuaded Spike to tell them how to play The Minister's Cat, and they'd all had fun, clapping in time and trying to come up with descriptive words for the minister's cat that started with 'A', then 'B', then 'C'; halfway through the alphabet before Joyce was declared the winner. Spike had actually spent most of his time in the living room corner, sitting cross-legged on the floor and watching the others, an odd little secret smile on his face when no one was looking. That night in bed, he'd hummed Frosty the Snowman under his breath while going down on Xander until Xander had gotten a stitch from laughing, and they'd curled happily around each other in the twilight just before dawn, warm and content, at peace.

Xander smiled at that memory, but then slowly the smile faded to a frown, and he shook his head, feeling close to tears again. Trying to remember...and all I can remember is Spike, and me...everybody but... Why can't I think about...her? He twitched ever so slightly as the front door opened. He could hear Oz coming in - setting something down on the kitchen table, then a long silence.

Bath? and Xander sent an ok, watching the bedroom door open and Oz slide in. He looked worn out, and he stood there for a moment just looking at Xander.

"Tried to take a nap, but..." Xander shrugged, and Oz nodded - made a little gesture back towards the kitchen.

"I got those flowers Spike wanted."

"Thanks, Oz." Oz nodded again - smiled softly and ghosted across the room and into the bathroom, quietly shutting the door. Xander sighed - reached down and began to stroke Spike's shoulder, shaking him ever so slightly.

"Spike. Hey, Spike - wake up, love."

"Mmmm?" Spike twitched - curled instinctively closer - and Xander slid down in the bed a bit, so he was even with the vampire. Spike's head ended up on his arm, and after a moment blue eyes opened sleepily, blinking at him.

"We need to get up, love. Get ready." Spike's hand reached out from under the covers and touched Xander's face - traced his eyebrow and cheek, combed back through his hair.

"All right, pet. Want to eat?" Xander grimaced - shook his head.

"I don't - think I could." Spike nodded - stretched upwards a little for a kiss and then pulled Xander close, hugging him.

"I don't want to go."

"I know, pet."

"You'll stay right there with me, right?"

"Course I will, pet. Right there."

"I've been trying to remember...but I just keep thinking about other things. I don't want to forget already - what's wrong with me?"

"Give it time, love. You won't forget, promise." Xander kissed him - wished fiercely that they could just stay home - make love and not think - but there wasn't anymore time. They had to get up, now. Get dressed. Go and meet everyone and spend the next few hours being - strong. Being calm, and quietly willing to do anything, and...brave. Spend the next few hours looking at the shell-shocked faces of Buffy and Dawn, and watching Joyce be laid away into the uneasy rest of a Sunnydale cemetery.

"When I was small I was in love - in love with everything
now there's only you..."

______________________

Thomas Dolby - Cloudburst at Shingle Street

23 Council

Xander stood in the doorway to the bathroom, watching Spike in the tub. The setting sun was going down in a cloudless sky and the garnet light, filtered through sky-blue blinds, made the steamy air seem dyed a pale amber-violet. Several candles burned on the long shelf Xander had put up behind the tub, gilding every reflective surface and making Spike's skin seem the color of honeyed cream. His dark brows and lashes were almost startling - lupine and feral in contrast to the watered-silk skin.

Beautiful vampire mine Spike's eyes opened - in the tinted light, they seemed to glow - and he smiled, small and soft.

Join me Xander pushed away from the door-jamb and slowly undressed, watching Spike watch him, feeling languorous and half-asleep in the warmth and steam. He slid into the tub opposite Spike, settling his feet on either side of Spike's hips and pulling the vampire's feet into his lap. The old claw-foot tub was huge - big enough for Xander to stretch out comfortably, big enough for the two of them to curl together. The water shimmered with an iridescent sheen, and Xander felt the oil slicking his skin. A Christmas gift from Tara. She'd blended clove, ginger, and eucalyptus oils for Spike, and it seemed to only intensify the already delicious natural scent that Xander loved. The water was steaming hot, and Xander leaned back and sighed deeply, relaxing completely for the first time all day. He held Spike's feet in his hands - began a lazy massage, thumbs rubbing and pressing in circles into the high arches. Spike slipped a little lower into the water, his eyes half-shut, the purr rumbling up softly out of his chest.

"Good day, love?"

"All right day. Just - nervous. Manny let me off early. He - knows about the Council."

"Mmmm? How's that?"

"Demon grapevine, he said." Xander pressed his fingers into the tops of Spike's feet - felt the thin bones there, and the strong tendons.

"That's all right, then," Spike murmured, oh nice, love you pet just there

In the kitchen, faintly, Xander could hear Oz saying something, and Derio saying something back. Derio was Oz's - well, boyfriend sounded stupid - Oz's new friend; the guy Oz had been not-at-home with for the past month or more. Xander smiled to himself. Derio was in a band that seemed to mostly be known via the Internet, and they sold their CD's online, at a website one of the band-members had designed. His 'real world' job. They'd gotten the gig at the Bronze for a place to practice with audience feedback, and work out the kinks in their newest stuff before they made another CD. Spike and Xander had gone down to play pool and listen last Friday. The music was - odd. A collection of 'old-timey' songs from the Appalachian mountains and - according to Spike - the Highlands of Scotland, and a sort of 'island' music that was a mix of salsa and plena. New, different, and received fairly enthusiastically by most of the Bronze crowd. The last song of the night, and Derio quietly announcing into the microphone that it was 'in honor of new friends'. Then they tore into The Clash's London Calling, making Spike grin and let loose a piercing whistle at the end; high praise indeed, for Spike and the Bronze. Oz had come wandering down from the sound booth, and brought Derio over. About three inches taller then Oz, lean and brown with long, thin, dark-brown dreadlocks and a lilting accent. He was from Puerto Rico, and he knew what the Hellmouth was, and Xander and Spike had liked him almost immediately. Oz had just sat and smiled, back to his silent self more than ever, a quiet pulse of contentment and affection in the link.

"How'd you meet?" Glance between them, green eyes and black sharing amusement.

"I was leaving late, and this girl comes up all - sex-say, and suddenly -" another amused glance at Oz - "Suddenly she's all 'grrrr'." And he puts his fingers to his mouth, mock fangs, like the old madman in that Monty Python movie.

Vampire

"And I'm - terrified, naturally - and I don't have any kind of weapon except for my fiddle and I'm NOT smashing THAT over her head or, you know, whatever... Then all of a sudden there's Oz and he -" snort of laughter, "he has the bigger 'grrrr' and she's dust." Oz grins - shrugs.

"I lost it a little."

"You were stalking me!"

"Just wanted your autograph." And they're leaning together, laughing, and there's good in the link and happy. Spike and Xander can't help but approve.

Now Derio was out in the kitchen, tuning his guitar while Oz made dinner, and after a moment he started to play and sing softly. Xander liked his voice - a rather hoarse baritone - and it floated in quietly to them, accompanied by the cascading notes of the guitar. That sort of Spanish-sounding music that Xander had no name for but found he liked very much.

"So...'Derio'?"

"Ready to take on the Council, then?" Spike asked him, and Xander moved his hands up a little, to circle the slender ankles and dig in with his knuckles, Spike's feet pushing into his chest.

"Ready as I'll ever be. I wish they weren't coming here -" Xander was working slowly up Spike's calves, and Spike's purr echoed in the bath, rumbling undertone to the music - to Derio's lulling voice.

"We live in the hills and travel at night

Invisible lives in the visible light...

You might hear a sound with the fall of the sun

It's the beat of heart, the pound of a drum...

We are here, we are No Man

Disappeared, we are No Man..."

"Well, they won't stay long. We'll tell them what they want to hear, get them back where they belong. Don't need those wankers here, mucking about, poking into things. Dawn, Spike meant, and Xander nodded. They'd made a pact, all the Scoobies. Dawn was out of this - out of all of this. They knew nothing about a key, they knew nothing about what Glory wanted. They would not, ever, bring her to the attention of the Council. She's ours, Spike had said, scowling. They don't touch her. Buffy - who had become thinner, whose eyes had taken on a haunted look - had sat at the table at the Magic Box and cried for a moment, after their pact. Thin wrists gripped in white-knuckled hands, head bowed. Then she'd looked up at them and whispered thank you, and they had all seen the easing, just a little, of the terrible burden she had carried since Joyce had died.

"Turned away, in our own lands

We are here, we'll never go away...

Some men are kings, and some work the mines

A few have it all, getting' more all the time

They come with a gift, and then with a gun

You learn how to serve or you learn how to run..."

Spike gently pulled his feet away - tucked his legs under himself and then was gliding through the water, coming to rest on Xander's chest. His hip fitted into the curve of Xander's hip - his thigh between Xander's thighs.

Love you safe here family

Safe here always Xander pulled him close - arms around his ribs, cheek against wet hair, and they lay together; rumbling purr, slow heartbeat, Xander's fingers doing a slow glide up Spike's back, Spike's hand moving in small circles over Xander's ribs.

"We are the shadows that won't go away

Ghosts of the past the future someday..."

Derio had gone, right after dinner, giving Oz a slow kiss and a smoldering look that promised...all sorts of things.

Want in the link, and Spike smirking into his whiskey.

Good?

"The best," Oz said, and went to tidy away some things, so his 'personal stuff' wasn't on view for the Council toadies.

"We gotta get a bigger house," Xander muttered to himself, shoving an untidy stack of CD's up against the bookshelf. "Manny's got a couple houses, 'bout a mile from here. We should go look at them."

"By the sea?" Spike asked, and Xander pulled a crumpled pack of smokes out of the couch - tossed them to the vampire.

"Yeah - just north of here a ways. Two storeys instead of one. Not a lot bigger as far as the rooms, but more of 'em."

"That'd be nice," Oz murmured, and then turned and pelted Spike with a handful of laundry as Spike sent a rather vivid image of Oz and Derio doing -

"Spike! Are you thinking about other men?"

"Just the one other," Spike leered at Xander, balling up Oz's jeans and t-shirts and hurling them through the bedroom door.

Bad vampire.

Always. A car was coming down the street, and Xander looked out the screen-door, frowning.

"I think that's them."

Protect pack OUTSIDERS from Spike, and Xander walked over to him, resting his hand gently on the small of Spike's back - scratching lightly.

"Let's be calm, yeah?" he said softly, and Spike snorted. It was kind of strange, the antagonism Spike felt towards the Council. He had taken Xander's worry over Dawn - over Giles and Buffy - to heart, and for the moment at least, the entire Scooby gang was his pack. And he was pissed. Oz kicked his duffle into the far corner and settled onto the couch, eyes darkening momentarily.

"Hope they don't get stupid," Oz muttered.

Calm, safe, pack is safe...love you

"We'll be all right, pet," Spike said, answering Xander's thoughts, and he leaned against the doorjamb to the kitchen, lighting a cigarette, serious now. The car stopped behind Oz's van and four people got out. Three men in dark suits and shiny shoes, one woman, also suited, her hair in a severe bun and clutching a clipboard. They looked curiously around them at the neighborhood; a few people on their porches, mostly TV's on behind the curtains. They walked up to the front door and peered inside. Xander knew the two lamps in the living room didn't provide much illumination - they were good mostly for reading - and he also knew that when the three of them looked out at the group, their eyes sparked eldritch fire in the low light. There were gasps and a moment of whispered conversation, and then one of the men - dark-haired and frowning - knocked on the screen door.

"Alexander Harris?" he asked, squinting in at them, and Xander went reluctantly to unhook the door. He rather pointedly didn't ask them in, and they sidled inside, looking disapprovingly at the candles lit in the kitchen; the incense smoking before the small stone Buddha and other items Oz had gathered on one shelf. Two of the men brandished loaded crossbows, concentrating nervously on Spike. The other had a cross, and the woman fiddled with the clipboard, sending odd looks toward the vampire.

What the fuck?

"You're - Alexander?" the woman asked, looking at her papers.

"Harris, yeah." Xander said, standing with arms crossed in the middle of the living room.

"And - this is...Daniel Osbourne?" A short nod from Oz. "And...a-and William the Bloody." The woman sounded a little breathless and suddenly the link was flooded with laughter and Spike tipped his head to one side, looking at the Watcher through a thin ribbon of smoke.

"Heard of me then, have you?" The woman gulped - smiled.

"I - I did my thesis on you Wi - uh, Mr..."

"Spike'll do, pet. Your thesis. Isn't that neat." Got a fan. Spike took a long pull on his cigarette - stalked forward, doing that head down, pantherish glide that made Xander's stomach tighten in arousal and want. He bent down a little and stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray on the end table - leaned on the back of the couch. Xander knew - flash through the link - that the tips of Spike's fingers had brushed across Oz's neck.

Pack pack pack from Oz, the wolf unsettled and as pissed as Spike's demon.

Outsiders from the hyena, and Xander moved around the coffee table - settled on the couch next to Oz.

MINE protect mine from Spike, fierce and furious.

"I can't - can't believe that you, S-spike, are actually helping the Slayer. I had rather thought you'd be trying to kill her."

Spike shrugged, watching the woman. Xander - the hyena - could smell their nerves and fear - could smell something suspiciously like arousal coming off the woman.

"Not your business, really, what I'm doing." Spike pulled another cigarette out of the pack in his pocket - lit it and blew smoke at the huddled group of Watchers.

"I don't like you coming into my house with weapons," Xander said, and the woman's eyes darted over to him. "So hurry up and ask your questions - I'm not gonna wait around all night."

"You won't be doing your friend any favors, with an attitude like that," one of the men snapped, and Spike snorted. But it was Oz that answered, his eyes gone black.

"I can't imagine any attitude that would help Buffy, when it comes to you and your questions," he said softly, and the woman looked over her clipboard.

"That's the werewolf," she whispered, and KILL IT from the hyena.

MINE from Spike, who snarled at the group. They flinched, and one of the crossbows creaked as the man holding it tightened his grip convulsively.

"You'd better watch yourself," Xander snapped. "Ask your questions."

"So - a werewolf, the Slayer of Slayers, and a...carpenter. Just how do you help the Slayer, Mr. Harris?" The dark-haired man's lip curled in a sneer as he looked at Xander - looked and dismissed. A growl was ratcheting up in Spike's chest and Xander grinned coldly at the man and let the hyena out a bit more, knowing his eyes flared green in the dimness.

Calm love calm, calm "I whittle a mean stake," he said softly, and the man stared at him, unable to look away from Xander's flat, inhuman gaze.

"Exactly what - do you do, to help the Slayer?" The woman Watcher, nervous behind her clipboard and sensible glasses.

"Whatever needs doing. It's the bloody Hellmouth - every soddin' demon with half a plan and half a brain thinks they can come in here and open it up. There's practically a queue, some nights. We just keep the riff-raff to a minimum." Bloody stupid bastards The imagery Spike sent with that was...vivid, and Xander clamped down hard on a surge of bloodlust from the hyena. Oz was rigid beside him, his eyes black and the link thrumming with anger. It was getting a bit -

Not calm, oh fuck. CALM, Spike, stop that, safe, we're safe, Oz, calm Xander took a deep breath - looked blandly up at the Council members.

"Listen - I don't know what you think you're going to find out here. A lot of demons are attracted to the Hellmouth and we help Buffy take care of it. That's all. Oz and I grew up here - we lost friends here. We'll do whatever it takes to make it safe. And Spike...has his own reasons for being here. He doesn't want the Hellmouth open any more than we do."

"I find that hard to believe." That watcher again - the dark-haired man with the sneer in his voice - and Spike grinned at him, his eyes golden and narrow.

"Gotta keep the humans fat an' happy, don't I? Demon blood...isn't to my liking." Spike ground out his second cigarette, eyeing the Watchers thoughtfully. The man stared for a moment - blanched absolutely white.

"We were led to believe that...the Initiative had...leashed you."

Oh shit. Spike was on the man before Xander could get to his feet - hand knocking aside the crossbow and grabbing the man around the neck. His other hand darted out and snatched the second crossbow out of the other Watcher's hand. He flung it away from him, and it crashed to the floor and slid, into the kitchen. The second watcher leaped back, gasping. The one wielding the cross was frozen, mouth working in a soundless 'oh', and the woman looked as if she might be ill. Spike shook the Watcher in his grip, lifting him off his feet, and the man writhed, gagging.

"Guess you were led wrong, you fuck." Spike hissed, fangs bared.

Spike - don't, calm, CALM love, can't kill him Oz was grinning, showing the wolf's long teeth and curling tongue, and the hyena yipped in excitement, wanting blood.

"You'd better go now. I don't think we want to answer any more questions," Xander said softly. Please love put him down Spike growled into the man's face - gave him a final shake and dropped him. The man whooped in a rasping breath - coughed painfully, rubbing his throat. There were livid marks coming up already, and the woman clucked sympathetically over them, wide-eyed.

"Right. Get the fuck out of Xander's house, now, and I'll try to remember not to pull your spines out through your fuckin' stomachs next time I see you." Spike's fierce gaze raked over them all and he retreated slowly, kicking the other crossbow after the first and coming to rest at the back of the couch again. This time he made no bones about reaching out and running his fingers through Xander's hair - letting his other hand rest on Oz's shoulder. The Watchers stared and shuffled, murmuring.

"We really do need to ask -" the woman started, and Xander interrupted her, scowling.

"You don't need to ask anything. We told you what we do - we help. There isn't any more to it. I don't know what the hell you people think you're doing - this Glory is a major bad-ass and you're playing Twenty Questions! Just tell Buffy what she needs to know so we can kill her! It's like you want her to fail! She's all that stands between you and the damn Hellmouth and you're playing games!" Xander ground his teeth in frustration, wishing he hadn't yelled, but these people were so damn stupid and so damn arrogant and self-righteous he wanted to crack their heads together. Spike was growling, the demon still foremost, and Oz had gone a bit wolfier - claws extending blackly from his fingertips. He was growling, too, and the link was rage and mine and pack, awash with bloodlust and the instinct to drive the invaders away - or kill them. The Watchers huddle had tightened a bit, and they were staring at Spike - at Oz - at him, and he knew his eyes were the hyena's still. He wondered if anything else changed, when he was that pissed.

"If the Slayer isn't up to the task of -"

"Damnit! She died once, defending this place! She's survived because she's not afraid to ask for help - because Giles is smart enough to know when one person alone is just suicide! It's his job to keep her alive, and it's her job to kick ass, and I don't know what you think has suddenly changed, but if you people don't stop screwing around you're gonna get us all killed! Just get out of here - go back to Travers and tell him whatever the hell you want but tell Giles and Buffy what they need to know!"

"That's up to Mr. Travers." The woman looked at Xander for a long moment - gave a small nod and capped her pen. "Nigel - I think it best that we go." The man Spike had half-strangled gave his throat a last rub and straightened his tie.

"Lydia -"

"My discretion, Nigel, and I don't think we have any more questions that will get us useful answers." Lydia tucked her clipboard under her arm - gave Spike one last, lingering look. "Spike - may I - may I ask just one question? May I ask - your Sire -" A surge of rage through the link, and Xander stood up fast, as did Oz. Calm calm, almost done, CALM.

"No more questions. Get out." Lydia bit her lip, her eyes pleading with Xander - then she sagged, defeated, and the Watchers shuffled out. Xander crossed the living room and latched the screen-door; closed and locked the inner door and then turned around and leaned there, shutting his eyes for just a moment. Feeling Spike as the vampire crossed the room to him.

"Bloody fools," Spike grumbled, human again, slipping his arms around Xander and tugging him into a hard embrace. After a moment they went back over to the couch and Xander flopped down next to Oz - huffed out a breath as Spike sprawled across his lap; head on Oz's thigh and grabbing Xander's hand, lacing their fingers together and resting them on his chest.

"That could have gone better," Xander said, and Oz leaned into his shoulder, human now as well.

"No it couldn't. They aren't here to help, they're here to judge," Oz murmured, pack and protect, and Xander sighed.

"Yeah, I guess so. I just don't wanna - screw Buffy up."

"They can't just - get rid of her. And even if they decide to bring some other Slayer in here, it's not like the Watcher or Red - any of you - would switch sides." Spike's eyes were still demon-gold, and the rage was still in the link, but pack was there, too, encompassing Dawn and Tara, Willow and Giles...including Buffy, and for the second time since the Watchers had arrived, Xander contemplated this new development with awe.

"Spike - why...why this, now?" Mirroring the vampire's emotions back to him through the link - to Oz as well, including him in the question. Spike looked - troubled. He rubbed his head a little on Oz's thigh - squeezed Xander's fingers a little tighter.

"They're your family, pet. They're yours. Even if Red scares you a bit and the Slayer pisses you off - you love 'em, and you...want to protect them. I can't..." Spike was silent for a moment, thinking, then he sighed. "I hated Darla. Miserable bitch. But I couldn't...hurt her. Couldn't have left her to be hurt. It's just... It's family, it's - " Pack nest always blood and need and yoursmineyours the same the same. Xander and Oz contemplated that, silent, while the gold slowly faded from Spike's eyes and the link subsided to a low hum of contentment.

"But Angel's out of that, now." Xander said softly. Spike bared his teeth, silent snarl, and the demon gleefully sent out an image of a hot poker connecting with Angel's ribs.

"Oh, back in the day I felt the same, but he cut himself out. And that soul of his - won't let him back in." Not family

"Ok. I get that. I'm...thanks."

"Doesn't mean I won't knock the Slayer on her ass if she gets uppity," Spike said, but Xander just smiled, because it was hard to take that threat to heart when the vampire making it was snuggling into his lap, a rusty purr underscoring every word.

Two nerve-wracking days later, and most of them were at the Magic Box, waiting for the Council members to arrive - waiting for Buffy. Dawn was safely tucked away with Clem down in Spike's old crypt, enjoying what Clem had called 'Movie and Chip Taste-Test Night'. Clem looked as floppy and harmless as a basset-hound, but Spike had taken him and Buffy aside and told Clem to take a few swings at the Slayer. And Buffy had been surprised and impressed by the strength under the harmless-looking exterior.

Now they waited for the 'final review' or whatever it was, and Spike thought that one more session with the dried-up Watchers would send him screaming into the night - or into them. A little bloody mayhem would settle him nicely. Or... Spike dropped his cigarette in a half-empty cup of cold tea and sidled over to where Xander was leaning on the table, talking softly to Willow and Tara. Blue jeans and an old green thermal shirt that fight snugly across his broad, muscled back, and Spike couldn't resist. He got up close behind Xander - slid his fingers around Xander's waist and up under the shirt. Xander shivered in surprise and glanced back at him, laughter in his eyes.

Love you better stop that.

Wanna fight - wanna fuck. Got time... Brief flash of the workout room - Xander up against the wall and jeans open - and Xander stood up fast. Spike grinned and took advantage, slipping his hands further up under the shirt to Xander's chest - pulling him back so that they were pressed together.

Want you

Oh...fuck...Spike! Xander jumped at the delicate prickle of fangs over the claim mark, and Spike almost moaned aloud at the rush of arousal and want - the heady scent of clean sweat and clean wood and sweet, hot...mmmmm Willow was staring, open-mouthed, and Spike grinned at her - winked. She started - flushed bright red and turned away, bending busily over a pile of ratty parchment. Beside her, Tara was equally flushed, but she had a small smile on her face and mischief in her eyes. Spike saw her hand slip under the table, towards Willow, and almost laughed when Willow jumped again and stared at the blonde witch. Spike rubbed his fingertips gently across one of Xander's nipples - let his other hand slide lower, dipping just below the waist of his jeans. Xander made a tiny whimpering sound, his head falling back onto Spike's shoulder. Spike pressed his lips to the hinge of Xander's jaw - nibbled there. Smell so good, so hot, WANT -

"Spike! Xander! I really don't think that we need this sort of - display - when the Council arrive." The Watcher was striding out of the back room, frowning, hand going automatically to his glasses, and Xander twitched in Spike's arms - pulled feebly at the hem of his shirt, which had ridden half up his rib-cage. Anya trailed unhappily behind the Watcher. The Council made her nervous.

"Spike, c'mon, we gotta -" Love you want you not NOW and a brief image of the Watchers, gaping and scribbling notes. Spike took a last, lingering taste of the skin on Xander's neck - slid his hands free and turned the human around.

"Sure? We could slip downstairs..." Spike nuzzled his cheek into Xander's - caught the open mouth with his own and spent a leisurely minute or so just kissing his boy. Xander's hands clutched at his t-shirt and Spike pulled their hips together, slow pressure and grind, ignoring the Watcher, ignoring the Witches, catching a very soft beautiful from Oz, who was sitting up in the loft, feet dangling. Taste of sweet tea, of chocolate, of blood, when Spike let the demon emerge for a moment. Then the bell over the door jangled, and the Watchers were crowding in, and Spike pulled slowly away, eyes on Xander. His boy was a little dazed - a lot aroused - and the dark eyes stared into his, promising...

Bad vampire. Gonna get you.

"Rupert! You intimated that - that this vampire had allied himself with your group, but you never said - " The head Watcher - Travers - spluttered in offended outrage and Spike smirked at him and caught Xander's hand - hauled him up the wrought-iron stairs to sit by Oz. Oz grinned and passed a crossbow over to Spike - another to Xander and resettled his on his hip. Two of them were the crossbows the Watchers had left behind at Xander's house. They'd decided to take no chances with this crowd, especially after their own pet Watcher had suggested that one of them might be a magic-user of some sort. Down at the table, Willow and Tara casually linked hands - put certain books and papers at the ready. They were armed, as well. Anya leaned beside the display of swords behind the counter, glaring at the cross-wielding Watcher who tried to join her.

"Employees only, buddy," she snapped. Giles watched the Council members spread out over the shop - frowned when Travers looked at a book and shook his head.

"There have been a number of developments just recently, Travers, that I did not think -"

"Rupert -" Travers held up his hand, looking disappointed and a little indulgent. "I understand that the Hellmouth is a - different - sort of place, and that your Slayer is not as disciplined or as - steady - as we could hope, but really. Something like this?" Travers gestured upwards towards them and Spike felt the snarl lift his lip - growled very low. Xander was looking narrow-eyed at the man as he continued his pontifical and condescending speech, fingers tight on the stock of his crossbow.

Bastard

Kill him? Xander snorted and he finally looked away - pushed his thigh up tight against Spike's, heat soaking into Spike's leg through two layers of denim.

"Maybe my finger can just slip a little." Xander whispered.

"Look funny if we all three slipped," Oz whispered from Spike's other side, and Spike had to chuckle softly.

GOOD boys, mine, get 'em Spike urged, knowing it wouldn't happen but wishing, nonetheless. Xander sighed and leaned into him a little more, propping his crossbow against his shoulder. Travers had settled like a toad into a chair across from the witches, and Giles stood by the display counter, nervously polishing his glasses. The other Watchers were standing about in various poses of supercilious detachment. Lydia was once again engrossed in her clipboard, but she continuously cast sly glances towards Spike. He caught her eye once and winked, demon-gold and grinning, and she gasped and hastily turned her back. Spike laughed in the link, and Xander poked him.

Don't scare 'em.

"Your Slayer is twenty minutes late, Rupert. Is this review actually important to her, or is she indulging in some sort of -" Travers was interrupted by the jangle of the door bell and everyone looked up to see Buffy, sword in hand, walk slowly into the shop.

"Buffy! Was there trouble?" Giles hurried forward and Buffy gave him a calm, almost dazed look.

"Oh, yeah. Trouble. A knight, if you can believe it. Armor and everything." Buffy looked down at the sword in her hand - hefted it - turning it so the light ran down its polished length. Spike scented no blood on her or the sword - just sweat and fatigue and fading fear - growing anger.

"Well, since you seem unhurt, we may begin the review -" Travers jumped as Buffy brought the sword down hard on the table. The other Watchers stiffened in surprise. Spike grinned.

Slayer's pissed.

"No. No review. No questions I can't answer and no hoops I can't jump through. And no interruptions." Buffy added, glaring at the Watcher Spike had half-strangled. He subsided unhappily, closing his mouth. Buffy paced away from the table. "Did you know, Glory came to my house today?" An electric current seemed to run through the Scoobies at that - Spike growled again, remembering the blonde cow who had smelled wrong and felt wrong and had tossed him aside with a strength he'd never encountered.

"Buffy! What -"

"It's all right, Giles. She just wanted to talk. Kinda like the Council, here. Wanted to tell me that I was a - bug. Insignificant. Kinda like that Knight, too - Knight of Byzantium. He wanted to tell me I was powerless against his Order. Everybody telling me I'm nothing, but yet, here you all are. Waiting on me. That's when I figured it out." Buffy pulled the knitted cap off her head - tossed it down and ran her fingers back through her hair. "It's about power. I've got it." Buffy paused, then strode up to the table - leaned into Travers space, making him flinch back. "And you don't."

"This is beyond insolent -" In one movement, Buffy snatched up the Knight's sword, turned, and threw. The sword slammed into the wall by Nigel's head, point first, spronging faintly. Nigel looked as if he'd swallowed his tongue.

"I'm certain I said 'no interruptions'."

"Oh, well done, Slayer." Spike couldn't keep himself from that, and Buffy sent him a flashing, triumphant glance, then her attention was back on the Watchers.

Xander reached over and squeezed his knee. Damn. Pissed Slayer is right. She's scary when she's mad. Spike leaned into Xander's shoulder, wishing he could just lay him back and kiss him - finish what he's started. He let that want into the link, and Xander made a throaty little sound, almost a purr. Spike focused on the Watchers again, letting his fingers burrow under the hem of Xander's shirt, stroking his spine. The Slayer talked on - pointing out the inherent worthlessness of Slayer-less Watchers, and then suddenly she was setting out her demands: all information on Glory - Giles to get his salary back, retroactive, and Spike grinned at Giles' little coughing hint. And her friends to help, no questions asked. Nigel stared around the room, obviously bewildered.

"Not - to get any more weapons thrown at me, but... Aside from Spike - why would you want to drag civilians - children - into this?" Buffy stopped pacing and looked at the man - slowly scanned the room.

"They're not children. They haven't been children for a long time. I've got two powerful witches, a thousand year old Vengeance demon and a werewolf backing me up."

"And Mr. Harris? No special abilities there." Buffy laughed and Spike glared at Lydia.

Bitch

"Mr. Harris? He's a better soldier - patroller - killer - than any one of you. He's been in the field and fighting alongside me for four years. He brought me back to life once. He's just chock full of special abilities, the least being he brought William the Bloody into our group." Buffy shot a hard look at Spike, as if daring him to contradict her, and Spike touched two fingers to his brow, tiny salute.

Guess the Slayer wants my help.

Course she does. Wanna?

For you...anything.

"I need an answer from you right now, Quentin. Yes or no?" Buffy leaned on the table, her eyes fierce and unwavering, staring at the older man. Who looked around the room and sighed, and sagged in his chair.

"We have an agreement, Ms. Summers. Everything - whatever you want."

"Yes!" Willow pumped a fist in the air - grinned at Buffy and hugged Tara closer to her. Anya clapped her hands, grinning.

"Ex-demon, by the way people. Ex. One hundred percent human, here. No more excruciating vengeance visited upon totally deserving men." The cross-wielding Watcher edged away from her, looking pale. Beside him, Oz was smiling happily, setting the crossbow down so he, too, could clap. Xander whooped, and Spike slid his hand around, sliding it up Xander's ribs.

"Good on you, Slayer," Spike said, loud enough for Slayer ears to hear, and she grinned, looking at Giles who was solicitously offering Travers a drink.

"Hang on, Giles - we can do that in a minute. First I wanna know...what we're up against. What kind of demon Glory is, and how we're going to take her down." The sounds of celebration faded and everyone turned expectant eyes on Travers. He shifted uneasily in his chair - looked at Giles and then Buffy.

"She's not a demon, Ms. Summers. Glory is - a god."

"Oh," Buffy whispered. Spike looked down at the Watcher, who was silent and frozen. At the Slayer, who had blanched and sat heavily down; at the rest of the Council members, who looked as if they'd rather be anywhere else. Anya was open-mouthed in shock, and the witches were staring at each other, wide-eyed.

Fear and Fuck in the link, which just about summed it up.

"I think I'll join our Mr. Travers in that drink," Spike muttered.

Hours past midnight, and Oz off with Derio somewhere. The sea booming like a heartbeat, wind driving the tree-limbs against the house. Storm coming, and Spike could smell ozone and rain, a day off at least. But closer, and more immediate, he could smell the balsam-scented candles, and cinnamon oil, and blood oh gods his blood is like cream...Xander...love...pleeease Spike's hands flexed on the headboard, making it creak.

"Don't let go, Spike, don't let go," Xander's voice murmured from behind him, soft and steady. And then ice - a pinprick, and then a pulling, aching line of it, and Spike arched, gasping. Xander leaned into him, his cock just pushing into that place, deep as he could get and Spike's straight-razor in his hand, cutting shallow and sharp. Pain that flared to pleasure as Xander's hot mouth followed the blade, licking the blood, teasing the sensitive edges of the cut, and Spike arched again, head down and his legs spread wide, trembling.

"Love please -" His voice was ragged - half gone - and Xander shifted, thrusting once and then twice and then stopping again, his fingers hot and hard around Spike's cock, keeping him from orgasm.

"You were sooo bad, love. Gotta take just a little more..." Beautiful fuck want you forever taste so good Xander leaned up, covering Spike with his body, his heat and sweat a stinging wash of ecstasy, his cock like a brand inside, every movement flaring fire as the oil warmed and burned. Hours of this and Spike was shuddering, growling; he could barely think, could barely see, only knew Xander over him and inside him, the ice and fire, pricking sting and steady burn, the rush of pins and needles every time Xander moved in him, pushing at him. Waves of sensation and scent that were so strong - so heady and so delicious. He wanted to thrust back and force Xander to pound into him - he wanted to sink his fangs into the sweet-salt flesh and drink his boy down - he wanted to come, oh fuck yeah, and it was gonna hurt and it was gonna feel so good...

"There - there...mmmmmm." Xander's forearm against his mouth, ladder of slashes up his arm and Spike lapped like a cat, groaning in need and delight. Another cut, spine to lats, another slow lap of tongue - and Spike heard the straight-razor hit the floor - felt Xander's hands on his hips, slippery with blood, hard and tight.

"You ready now? Gonna fuck you..." Xander drew back and slammed in, and Spike screamed, something guttural and hoarse.

Yes please please now love in me, MAKE me, love love you oh fuckfuckfuck! Spike couldn't have spoken if he'd tried. His body moved on instinct alone as he writhed and thrust back, wanting more and deeper and crying out when Xander's nails raked his raw back. The pain was white-hot, dizzying, utter rapture and the demon was howling its pleasure even as Spike's throat caught and worked and sent blood-taste to his mouth. Xander's hand on his cock now, pumping ruthlessly, the oil stinging and lashing him on. Xander's other hand in his hair - pulling his head up and back, twisting and then Xander's throat was against his mouth - awkward as fuck but Spike didn't care - couldn't have stopped himself if he'd wanted to. And Xander whimpering, gasping, and:

Take it take me Spike fuck love you NOW love now Spike bit, savage - feeling the pain flare in the link; flare white and then fade to red, seething delight as Spike drank the honey-salt of Xander's blood. His body locked into an arched, shuddering bow and finally, finally, coming, and gods it was like nothing he'd felt before, nothing. Distantly, he heard the headboard crack in his fingers and heard Xander cry out - felt the wash of heat in him as Xander came.

Abruptly, his legs gave out, and he lay gasping on the bloody sheets, Xander heavy and hot and wonderful on him - in him still. Spike lay and panted, his body throbbing with aftershocks like pulses of heat and cold, over and over. Xander gasped into his hair, and his hands wormed underneath, holding Spike, turning them both onto their sides.

My boy lovely boy fuck that was...

"That was fucking incredible," Xander whispered, and Spike used every last bit of strength he had to turn over, moaning softly at the sudden emptiness when Xander slipped out. Xander lay with his eyes closed, still panting - his mouth and chest and thighs streaked with blood, drying in rusty smears on the sun-gold skin. The bite Spike had made was ragged - sore looking - and Spike leaned in and kissed it, lapping delicately at the blood that still welled there. Xander shivered and moaned.

"Oh god, fuck, Spike..."

"That was amazing, pet, that was...where'd you learn that, eh?" Spike's voice like sand in his throat and Xander cracked one eye open - grinned tiredly.

"From you, of course. Variation on a theme." His eye fell shut, and Spike nuzzled back in - sighed happily into the heat and damp and scent - pulled Xander closer yet, holding him tight.

Mine always never let you go love you love you.

Mmmmmm...always...my vampire MY Spike...love you.

Outside, the wind dropped and then picked up again, lonely keening across the bluff, and Spike let the purr rumble to life in his chest - let it take them both down into dreamless sleep.

____________________

The Brandos - We Are No Man

24 Visit

Three days of stormy weather - low, scudding clouds, wind, drizzle on and off. Not like SoCal at all, but still, Xander didn't think that was the reason Spike was so...restless. The vampire paced around the house - snapped at everyone when they had a Scooby meeting (pointless and fairly depressing, but Buffy insisted) - and generally made a pest of himself. Even the link - that was still changing, evolving, growing stronger all the time - was unsettled; streaming emotion and images that made no sense until Oz was shoving Spike into the wall and snarling at him.

"What is it," he snapped, and Spike scrubbed fretfully at this head, rumpling up his hair and thudding his head back into the wall once, demon-eyed.

"I don't know, I don't - there's something..." coming waiting wanting Spike slid down the wall, crouching there with his hands still in his hair, eyes squeezed shut. Xander dried his hands off from washing the dishes and came over - went down on one knee, rubbing a slow hand up and down Spike's arm. Oz crouched there too, eyes black, Pack and love you in the link. Comforting Spike, and trying to calm his own jangled nerves.

"Don't block us out, love. Maybe we can help," Xander said softly, and Spike nodded and reached out blindly - took Oz's wrist in his hand. It was like the completion of a circuit and whatever was bothering him jumped through Xander - through Oz - and they both flinched away. A sort of - gnawing. A seething. As if something was hovering, just out of sight. Something that jangled along their nerves and set Xander's teeth on edge. Like being too close to a transformer, or touching a live wire. Fight or flight so strong the hyena howled. Abruptly, the link shut down, and Xander and Oz both shivered, glancing at each other.

"What the hell-. I've never felt anything like that." Xander rubbed his temples, trying to get the lingering buzzing to go. Oz was rubbing his hands up and down his arms, watching Spike.

"Voices. What were they saying?"

"What?" Spike finally opened his eyes and Oz shook his head, as if throwing off water.

"I could hear - voices - like...singing, or...moaning." His eyes were troubled, still the wolf's. Xander looked at Spike - shook his head.

"I just felt - like something was going to...jump on me, or...come up out of the ground. This kind of - wanting." Xander shivered again, and Spike looked between the two of them, his eyes gold.

"I'm - getting both. Why don't you two get both? Fuck, what is it? It's drivin' me 'round the twist." He slumped to the floor, looking angry and helpless at the same time. Xander leaned over and kissed his cheek - rested forehead to forehead for a moment, then got up and went to the kitchen cabinet and pulled out Spike's whiskey. He came back over and sat down, and Oz grinned and settled cross-legged with him.

"Here - maybe you can drown it out for a while," Xander said, and Spike sighed - raised a smile.

"Cheers, love. Maybe I can."

The man on the screen slashes with a knife, wildly, and the second man recoils - holds up a cut and bleeding hand.

"Ah, kiss him for fuck's sake and get on with it," Spike muttered, and Xander giggled helplessly into Spike's thigh.

"Only you, vampire-mine, would see the romantic side of cannibals."

"Look at 'em! They both want to - just a matter of lettin' go -" Spike took a long swallow of whiskey and petted Xander's hair, and Xander sighed happily. Whiskey, gore, and Jaffa Cakes had mellowed the vampire a bit, and the three of them were sprawled comfortably on the sofa-bed. The bad feeling, whatever it was, seemed to have eased off, or been tuned out, and Spike was finally relaxed for the first time in days. The stormy weather still held; the stars were hidden behind low, heavy clouds, and a constant, rain-scented wind gusted in from the sea, pushing the curtains out and fluttering the candle-flames in the kitchen.

This is good Xander thought. On the screen the 'villain' of the piece had just played a strange, seductive little scene - licking the blood of his 'prisoner' off his own fingers in such a way that Xander was starting to agree with Spike's assessment that the two men should just kiss and 'get on with it'. Xander opened his mouth to tell Spike he was right when the relaxed leg under his cheek suddenly went rigid, and a moment later Spike was scrambling to his feet, demon out and growling. That feeling - seething, gnawing - was back, hideously strong, and Xander felt the hyena rise to the surface - saw Oz shift half to the wolf, growling along with Spike. As one, the three of them turned to the door, and someone was there, just beyond the light. Spike was crouched to leap - Xander was shivering with reaction, baring his teeth - and Oz was shifting further to the wolf, a sing-song wail threading up out of his throat. A pale hand tipped with long, red-lacquered nails coalesced out of the darkness and scratched at the screen door.

"Ssspike..." a voice sighed - sang - and Spike was at the door before Xander saw him begin to move.

"Drusilla?"

The nails scratched again - the hand flattened on the screen, pressing at the barrier that kept her out, and Dru stepped up to the doorway. Xander felt a peculiar wrench, somewhere in his heart. Dru. Spike's memories rose like a swarm of wasps, shuttling rapidly from Dru as seen through William's human eyes to the first night the vampire saw her; to China, to Berlin - to Prague and a frenzied mob. Dru pulling Spike himself out of the rubble of the organ and Dru writhing in the grip of visions - of prophecy. Dru and Angelus... The link was thick with longing and love and fear, and Xander didn't think he could move from the couch. And the hyena howled.

MINE!

Spike stood at the screen door, staring out. This isn't real, what the FUCK, oh gods...

"Dru, what is - what are you doing? You're makin' me feel all - wrong, pet. Can't you make it stop?" Drusilla smiled at him, head to one side, her nails scratching slowly down the screen. She was wearing something low-cut and black, and there were half-healed burns on her chest and neck.

"It's a spell, my beautiful boy. To keep the Slayer away..."

Keep her away? Make her come hot on the trail, more like. Dru, pet, what are you DOING... "It works a treat, Dru. But it's - it's hurting me, pet. Can't you make it stop now?" Drusilla frowned at him, then she dipped her fingers into the bodice of her dress and pulled out a red glass bead.

"Wouldn't hurt you, my sweet Spike," she whispered, and crushed the bead in her fingers. The creeping wrongness shattered as the bead did, and Spike breathed a sigh of relief - heard Xander and Oz do the same. Thank god. Spike...

All right, love, all right. Safe. He could feel Drusilla now - his Sire, his goddess. The steady pulse of her that was fire-fly flicker and heat lightning and a skirling keen that was almost like static. The voices she lived with - prayed to - scolded and begged and sang to. Familiar and almost comforting. The link - that silver chain of agony and rapture, blood and lust and need that had tied him to her for so long. His Sire, fucking Christ, and he could already feel tension from Xander.

Mine mine MINE from the hyena, unconscious and implacable.

"What are you doing here, Dru?"

"I've come to coax you, Spike. To woo and win you. To show you...such things, such lovely things..." Drusilla swept her nails over the screen, her voice a crooning murmur, and Spike reached up - put his hand flat on the screen. He could only feel the pressure, as she leaned into the barrier.

"Ask me in, sweet? Ask your darling girl in?" Spike stared at her - shook himself, pulling his hand back.

"Can't, love. Not my house, is it? It's Xander's house." Dru looked past him and her eyes went wide, and then she smiled again, fluttering her lashes.

"Oh, we remember him - yes, we do. Sweet boy, lovely boy, a poem of a boy... Do you remember that, boy? That you are a poem?"

Spike? What -

"I - remember, Drusilla." Xander slithered off the couch and took a hesitant step closer to the door - another, and then stopped. Dru watched him, switching her skirts a little from side to side.

"Did I ever tell you your poem, sweet? I see you, you know - I see the tin-toy soldier and the beast, the ravening beast. It rends the air - it worries at your heart, sweet..." Drusilla put both palms flat on the screen and leaned in close, her eyes on Xander, and Spike felt the unease through the link - sent reassurance, sent love. She couldn't get past him, and Xander had nothing to fear.

"...Come near me now...Dear dying fall of wings...as birds complain against the gathering dark...

exaggerate the scarlet blood in grass... the music of leaves scraping space...all that is rare grows in common beauty, to rest with my mouth on your mouth...as somewhere a star falls....and the earth takes it softly...exactly as we take each other... and go to sleep...oh sleep..." Her eyes had slowly closed, her voice had dropped to a whisper, and Spike felt Xander come up close behind him.

Beautiful. Scares me.

Scares me too, sometimes. Keep you safe.

I know. Spike reached back and took Xander's hand in his, the warm fingers interlacing with his own. Anchoring him there, against the moon-drunk tidal pull that was Drusilla.

"You should keep your face to the light, sweet beast. You'll draw moths." Drusilla looked down at their entwined hands - looked up at Spike from beneath her lashes, her nails scratching at the screen again, metallic scrape that shivered over his nerves. The sycamores in the yard creaked gently, pushed by the wind, and a fine mist seemed to be coalescing out of the air, silvering every surface and haloing the sodium glare of the streetlights.

"You took him, didn't you." Not a question, and for a moment her demon was there; golden eyes like lamps and her mouth twisting in a snarl, showing fangs. Then it was gone, and she was herself again - cat-eyed and slyly smiling, scrape scrape at the screen. "Oh, I see what you did, my Spike - I see. Drank him down without even thinking to ask me, without even...a word to the wise..." She frowned, and shivered a little, looking over her shoulder. "There's more to you than him, though. More to you... " She looked beyond them both at Oz, who was standing by the couch still, just watching her.

"Collecting your pets, Spike? Making the little dogs dance to your tune?"

"Family, Dru. Don't mistake me." Spike watched her as she frowned again - lifted her head and scented the air, watching Oz.

"And he's no simple song, is he, Spike? He's no...sheep in wolf's clothing. Wears his rue with a difference... Who taught him to sing the moon to sleep?"

"He went to Tibet, Dru. To the monks. He learned how to - control it."

"Ohhh...control. It's a tricky thing, that. You never know when it's going to snap." Dru clapped her hands together sharply, grinning, and Oz flinched just a little.

Pack

"Oh...I've poetry for you too, wolfling, quisling, changeling-boy. They tried to break you, oh, bleed you, but my boy, my Spike..." She leaned her forehead into the screen, shuddering. "The moon, the moon, a circle of smudged bone in a charcoaled sky, scratched clean of stars...And the moon followed me through the skeleton branches and leaves of the winter trees...And the moon followed me down the dry, salt-dusted roads...And the moon danced, drunk on air as clear and sharp as bootleg whiskey...And the moon was in love with me, and I was in love with the moon..." She took in a sharp breath, head still bowed, and Spike frowned.

"Drusilla....what are you doing up here? You were - I thought you were happy, down in Brazil." Drusilla lifted her head, smiling now - that dreamy smile that meant she was seeing things - hearing the songs of the stars, the voices of the stones.

"Oh, Spike, I heard, I heard, they told me - told us, Miss Edith and I... Told us about electricity, and how it lies. Told us you were caught and kenneled and bad dog, Spike!" She made a little dog-growl, baring her teeth. "But we knew, oh, we knew... It was all a lie. And those soldiers - not like the soldiers when I was a girl, no; no plumes and swords and white gloves for them... They just wanted a whipping-boy, Spike, they just wanted... " Drusilla grinned suddenly, and her eyes rolled back in her head, sliver of white under fluttering lashes, her nails suddenly rending the screen, leaden riiip. "Plague-rat, Judas goat, golem, Spike - coming in among them and they burned, sweet boy, oh, they burned and they shrieked and they clawed and they died, and I knew it was you, knew it was you, my Spike, my own - clever, clever boy...." She twisted her head, snapping at the air, and Xander's hand tightened down sharply on Spike's.

Safe love. Safe pack always. Reassuring both of them. But feeling a tide of unholy glee rising up in him, as well.

"Dru pet, are you saying - the Initiative - the soldiers down there in Brazil... They died? Did they die, dolly?" Dru snapped her teeth again - yanked once on the screen, tearing it a little more, grinning at Spike with the demon gleaming out of her eyes.

"Oh yes, love, yes yes yes, they died and died and died, and I could smell you all in it, Spike, could see you. Like the angel Michael coming down with his sword; Dragon of God, Spike, but no god would have you, would he, no god would have us..." Drusilla's voice choked off and she put her hands over her face, panting a little, and Spike wanted to reach and touch her - soothe her, as he'd always done.

"Pet - Dru, don't cry, darling -"

"Oh Spike - Spike - he hurt us, he burned us! Why doesn't he love us anymore, why?" Dru lifted her head, wild-eyed, and Spike shook his head in confusion.

"Who doesn't love you, Drusilla? Who burned you?"

"Daddy did it," she snarled, and the demon was suddenly there and Drusilla roared, pure fury, and Xander took a step back.

Fuck!

"Angel burned you, pet? What do you mean?"

"He killed her, Spike! Killed our grand-mummy. But they brought her back - magicked her back but she was all wrong, she was all - bleeding and breathing and dying - so I fixed it, Spike, I fixed her and made her cold again, made her right."

"You mean - Darla?" Spike asked, utterly bewildered, and Drusilla nodded happily.

"And then we went to daddy, and we told him...we sang to him, oh, we whispered to him, come back, come home, come be family..." Dru swayed, her hands clasped to her breast, the demon fading away and her eyes closing in remembered bliss.

"But he wouldn't! He burned us, and he... He wasn't right." She opened her eyes - looked at Spike, and there were tears there, welling but not falling, making her eyes huge and luminous.

"Won't you come back with me, Spike?" she whispered. "Won't you come and help me - won't you come and help grand-mummy? We can be a family again, sweet, my sweet Spike. Family, just like before, all like before..." Spike felt the leaden fear coming from Xander and he shook his head, fighting that siren song, that seductive-sweet lure that was Dru at her very best - her very worst.

"Dru - pet - I can't. Angel - he's gone over - he left us, and he's tried to kill us - he's just...not ours anymore, dolly. Not ours anymore."

"No, no!" Dru seized the door-frame - shook it a little, making the wood creak. "Spike - he could be! If we do it just right, you and me - he loved you and me, he did, sweet, he did! We could bring him back, we could skin that soul out of him like a fish-bone, Spike, just a little cut, a little tug and he'd be ours again!"

"No, Dru. I've got my family here, now. I can't - I won't." Drusilla stared at him, eyes wide, then her mouth trembled and she crumpled down onto the porch, her fingers buried in her hair and twisting, pulling. A keening wail rose up out of her and Spike felt it go through him like a knife. He watched her, trembling with the effort of not moving - not reaching out for her.

Love - go to her. Spike looked at Xander in utter shock and met dark, anxious eyes - reached to touch the grimly set mouth.

"Xander, love -"

"It's all right, Spike. She needs you - she won't - it'll be ok, right?" Love you love you MINE Oz came up beside Xander - nodded once, eyes flicking from him to Dru and back.

Safe. Love you.

Family mine always Spike pressed a quick kiss to Xander's mouth and then slipped out the door. He sat down beside Drusilla - pulled her gently into his arms and rocked her, crooning softly. She clawed at his shirt - pushed at him - but ultimately slumped into his embrace, wetting his shirt with tears, clutching at him and moaning. Spike smoothed her hair - breathed deeply of her scent; of musk and incense and licorice, of blood. It whispered home to him, somewhere down in the pit of his heart. But Xander and Oz, casting love and worry and want through the link drowned it out - silenced it.

"Doesn't love us, doesn't love us, oh Spike, Spike what did - what did I do, was I bad? Was I bad, Spike?" Little girl begging forgiveness, and Spike felt the twist of love and pity and rage he always felt, when Dru was driven to this by him, by Angel. Always Angel, twitching her strings and making her dance to this miserable tune.

"Hush, pet, hush now - it's not him, is it? It's not Angelus down there, it's something else and we don't want him, darling, we don't need him. You don’t need him."

"But it hurts, Spike. It huuuurts...oh... Let me be with you, Spike! Let me -" Drusilla pushed herself upright - wiped her face with her hands and smiled at him, looked in at Xander and Oz with a sly, sidelong glance.

"They'd be so good, love, they'd be - like new wine and cakes, oh, sweet and sharp, the serpent's tooth..." Her voice was a conspiratorial whisper "Let me, Spike - for you I'll do it gentle as frost, love, gentle as the hangman's noose... Beat time for the Tyburn jig..." She gazed up, wide-eyed and hopeful, and Spike put one hand gently to her cheek. She leaned into the caress - took his hand in hers and kissed it - palm, fingers, thumb. Then she bit, hard, and Spike jerked away in startlement, blood spattering to the porch floor from the base of his thumb. Drusilla yanked his hand back and licked - cleaned his palm and sucked lightly on the bite, sending shudders through Spike's body.

Love, what -

Suddenly Drusilla jerked away - shot to her feet and backed away from him. Her tongue darted out to a drop of blood in the corner of her mouth and she licked it - stared at him.

"Spike, Spike, oh, what have you done, what have you done? I can taste him, Spike! Oh, the others, the olders, the hidden ones, Spike, Spike..." Drusilla put her fists to her temples and swayed, moaning, and Spike stood up and slowly approached her.

"What do you mean, pet?"

"Jack, that's what he calls himself, Jack the Lad, Jack in the Green, but he's not, Spike! No cup of wonder, no twining vine for you, not from him, not from him."

"He helped me, Dru." Spike stroked her wrists - gently pulled her hands down from her head and she blinked up at him, bewildered. "He fixed that - that thing, in my head. Took the pain away."

"But Spike - you know you can't trust them! Now he's in you -" Dru looked utterly shocked - terrified - and Spike pushed away his own faint feelings of dread.

"No, pet - he owed Xander, that's how he paid his debt. I tasted his truth, dolly. No harm. And it got my bite back. Fuckin' soldiers." Dru blinked and then grinned, giggling.

"You made them pay, Spike, oh yes... made them pay." She looked at him - head to one side, her hands making strange, dancing motions in the air. "You're not going to come with me, are you Spike? And...I can't be your darling anymore, can I? Can't be your one and only, can't be...your girl." Still now, so very still, and Spike looked back into the house, at Xander and Oz standing and watching. At candle-light and the rumpled sofa-bed, the TV mute and flickering. Human things. And not. Things he wanted - things he needed - so desperately. Xander smiled at him.

Love you Spike He stepped up close to Drusilla and stroked her cheek - gently kissed her forehead. The mist had settled in miniscule silver beads along her lashes - on the tendrils of black hair that coiled about her face. She looked like a water-nymph, or drowned Ophelia; hurt and betrayal held forever in those fathomless eyes.

"I'm so sorry, pet," he whispered. "You - told me to go, Dru. You sent me away... I've what I need here - I've family, now. One that won't ever -"

"Won't ever cut you, lover, won't ever twist your heart and scratch your soul..." Dru whispered back and Spike stared at her in shock.

"Dru?"

"Oh, I know, love - I've always known. It's what made you so...bright. So very special and sweet. Effulgent, dearest William, sweet boy...my boy, remember?" Dru's voice, whispering soft and low, her eyes like stars shining up at him, and he did remember, in a rush of bittersweet images and emotions. Being seen - at long, long last. Desired and...wanted. What he was, laid out like pictures in a scrap-book, and Drusilla touching each one - loving each one. Wanting them for her own - wanting him. Spike shivered, remembering, and Dru leaned up and gently, lightly, kissed him.

"There you are, Spike. Shining fire-bright and burning to your marrow but you'll come 'round right, Spike, my Spike. You'll slip the leash again, oh yes. Never fear." She touched Spike's chest, over his heart, and she was the child again - the lost little girl that Angelus had ripped to shreds and sewn back up all wrong - patchwork doll in a tattered dress. "Not mine anymore are you, Spike? Not mine, not his. Your own. Lucifer after the Fall and no one to tell you what you shan't do, anymore." A hesitation, and then she stretched up again, to kiss again; this time lingeringly and Spike felt her to his core - to the root of his being, he felt her madness and her loneliness and her need, but then she pulled away and the others were there. Xander was an ache in the link - a need as strong as Dru's, a want as selfish and fierce. But he was warmth, as well - hearthfire and sunlight, laughter and desire and love. And Oz was pack, stronger than even the demon - family and safety and trust, unquestioning and unflinching. Dru was standing at the door again, and Xander moved closer - Oz with him - and they both stood there, looking out at her.

"An angel falling like a star from heaven. But that's what angels do best, you know - and falling, sometimes...they can find their way home. Don't be sorry for that golden angel. Good beast, sweet beast...let me - " The demon, scenting the air and holding out one hand, wanting and Xander turned to Spike, confusion in his eyes.

What does she want?

Taste of you. Only...if YOU want. No harm. Xander gazed at him, then a small smile lifted the corner of his mouth.

Trust you. Love you. Xander put his hand on the screen - eased his fingers out through the rip Dru had made, touching fingertip to fingertip with her. Dru leaned down and rested her fanged mouth lightly on his hand - turned it palm up and kissed a fingertip, and her mouth came away bloody. She closed her eyes with a shiver, her tongue-tip chasing every drop. Then she sighed, and cast a mournful, longing look at Spike.

"Oh, Spike... That's why..." Blindly, she turned and groped at the screen, and Oz glanced at Spike - put his hand out, as well, and suffered the same nip in turn. "Ooh..." Drusilla shuddered, fingers to her mouth, and then opened her eyes wide, startling them all with a pealing, genuinely happy laugh.

"Beat him, didn't you sweet? He wanted a family, one that was all his; Daddy and little children, his to tell and make... But you have it. Acid, don't you think? Salt." Dru giggled again, and put her palm to Spike's cheek - held his gaze, in that way that had tricked the Watcher and killed the dark Slayer. "I gave you the gift, gave you the will. You...made your path like fire in the night. Like a rain of stars." She backed away from him, slowly, and Spike felt her go - felt her slipping free of his soul and of his heart and cutting the ties of blood and love and need - silver knife twisting across his ribs. Oh Dru, my girl... But then, warmth, and Xander leaning in the doorway, smiling at him, Oz's hand lightly on his shoulder.

Love you love you always, always mine, my own MY vampire.

Spike hugged his arms around himself - cocked his head to listen, a fragment of something floating to him from the dark.

"Jesus he was a handsome man and what I want to know is how do you like your blueeyed boy Mister Death."

The clouds, that had lain low and heavy all night suddenly opened, and it began to rain.

_____________________

The movie quoted is Ravenous

Drusilla is quoting, and changing, Kenneth Patchen's Fall of the Evening Star

In Love with the Moon is an original poem by myself

'Tyburn Jig' refers to being hung at Tyburn, a place of public execution in London

Drusilla also obliquely references Jethro Tull (cup of wonder), Shakespeare (wear your rue with a difference) and quotes a fragment of e.e. cummings Buffalo Bill