| 
  • If you are citizen of an European Union member nation, you may not use this service unless you are at least 16 years old.

  • You already know Dokkio is an AI-powered assistant to organize & manage your digital files & messages. Very soon, Dokkio will support Outlook as well as One Drive. Check it out today!

View
 

unbreakable

Page history last edited by PBworks 17 years, 3 months ago

Unbreakable

 

Author: NA21

Fandom: Buffy

Pairing(s): Spike/Xander

Warnings: memory of extreme slavery

Spoilers: n/a

Summary: Spike helps xander recover from being a slave.

 

Nominated Category:

Best Slave Fic: Acted TV & Movies - Slash


 


Chapter 1

 

Spike ran a hand over his hair, checking that not too much was astray from his tightly-bond braid, and blew out a great lung-full of air. This was his last chance to back out. He hated dealing with the slavers and the scum. The demons and humans here were the lowest of all. Even Angelus scorned them back in the day. But the pay was more than he could turn down.

 

 

 

The Watcher’s council had heard rumor of an untamable slave being brought in by ship this evening. The irony of slave ships still coming to America from Africa was not lost on Spike. Giles was thinking Slayer. Spike was thinking get in, take a look, get out, report back, collect enough to live on for half a year.

 

 

 

Spike pulled on his “Big Bad” persona and crossed the unmarked barrier between the bad part of the town and the even worse part. He missed the swish of a leather coat and the easy stride he once had, but it was to his benefit when he listened to anyone try to tell that to him. The few that talked to him, that was. Spike was considered dead, and he’d gotten a clean slate. He doubted few would recognize him now. The “final battle” with the legions of hell had left him with a permanent limp and a lengthening of the scar that once hid in his eyebrow. He’d stopped bleaching and cutting his hair long ago and it’s dark brown length now was pulled tight against his skull and down his back in a fighter’s braid.

 

 

 

His new coat had been taken from a lawyer at the Rome branch of W & H. It was a good fit, falling off his shoulders and tailored in fit his waist when belted, then the fuller skirt of it fell to mid-calf. He’d paid enough attention to fashion to know this look wouldn’t last long, for most were simply not slim enough to pull it off, but while it was hot, he liked this coat. Pressed black pants with a narrow gray stripe tapered down to well-polished low-heeled boots. He carried a silver-toped ebony cane. Who’s the dandy highway man now?

 

 

 

His air of having every right to be there carried him far. He did his best not to breathe in the stench of the place. Everywhere was the activity of cages and chains of humans, beasts, and unidentifiable beings moving from one place to another. The place had the air of a clandestine street fair. He’d seen thousands such illicit events in his long existence to know how to quickly reach the heart of it.

 

 

 

There, closest to the hold of the ship itself, was the security he was looking for. As expected, he was challenged. Doing his best not to fidget, he went through the courtly dance of sign/countersign, name drop, name drop, money flash to get into the ship itself. Once the trail of the lies was passed, Spike willingly surrendered his few concealed weapons as well as his cane, exaggerated his limp, then was lead up the gang plank and met by one of the top men. Oh, not the top man, Spike didn’t really want that, but this over-dressed thug would do nicely.

 

 

 

In his well-learned German accent, Spike blithely lied his way into seeing all the top stock. He was mostly interested in the girls, him being on the lookout for Slayers and what all, but it didn’t hurt to be through. Once he stepped into the area of the hold that had been curtained off, he knew his instincts had been right.

 

 

 

A line of seven males stood in a row, each one well-muscled, healthy, and very bound. Spike did his best to not stare at the third one from the end. The flash of brown eye would have stopped his heart had he been human. He drew in a deep breath as he considered the first one in line. He looked without seeing at the brown, muscled form before him. Out of the myriad of stinks within the hold the one he sought soared over the others.

 

 

 

He thought hard at the man in chains and slowly worked his way down the line. He’d never in a million years expected to call a code doughnut, and didn’t want his cover blown. Of course, it could be that his target wouldn’t recognize him. He was so far from the denim-wearing mooch he’d once been. Okay, so still wore jeans when not under cover, but he supported himself now. He absently spoke to the thug as he looked over the stock. He let little tidbits build his well-memorized story. It was easy to dismiss the non-humans as his boss had just bought a new estate in the keys and wanted a human or two to pretty up the place and maybe provide some… entertainment.

 

 

 

He paused at he bronzed figure that stood tall third from the end. As he had with two others, he folded his arms and paused. The clear brown eye met his steadily.

 

 

 

“This one is pretty,” Spike said, reaching out to finger one of the beads in the slave’s long, thick brown hair. A tiny tightening of the lips was the only response. Perhaps Xander Harris didn’t recognize him. “Even with the eye patch.” Spike boldly ran a hand over a forearm roped with veins and paused at a scar along the wrist, his eyes dating to find other scars on the massive body. “Pity he’s damaged.”

 

 

 

“That one won’t stay pretty. We’d magic him unscarred and he’d just get cut up again. He’s a damn good fighter, but he’s a rebel. Your boss probably won’t want him. Not for a pleasure slave.” Spike saw the brown eye darken marginally and felt a single angry, hard thump of the heart under his fingers.

 

 

 

“You don’t know my boss, then,” Spike laughed. The brown eye flickered back to him and Spike saw a flicker of curiosity in it’s depths. “He’s a weird one.” Spike dismissed the captive and passed on to the last human in the line, giving him the same look-over he had the others. When done there, he tossed his head and rubbed his hands together. “Now, my favorite part. Let me have a look at the ladies.” He did not risk a look back and missed the unbreakable slave lowering his head to look at the place on his wrist the vampire had touched.

 


Chapter 2

An hour passed, and one of the slaves that he had examined had sold before Spike returned to the showing room with a small silver cell phone pressed to his ear.

 

“What?… Yes, sir…” he barely looked at the still row of men. “Those are the ones? Right, hold on a sec.” Spike lowered the phone and turned to his burly host and spoke like one who knows his requests will be followed. “He wants the one in red and the one on blue. Now can we take a better look at the males.”

 

The man turned an spoke a few quiet words to a near-by flunky. Spike turned his attention back to the slaves. “Pity, the biggest one’s been sold. You!” he pointed at the other dark-skinned human he’d examined. “Step out here.” The man did so, and Spike held up the little phone. There was a bright flash which caused them all to blink and one of the demons to cringe. “Okay, turn around.” He took another picture, shooed the man back into line, pushed a couple of buttons and brought the phone to his ear.

 

“Yes, he looks healthy. There’s another one, too. No, the third one I mentioned is gone.” Spike stepped up to Xander and repeated the photo shoot. He sent the pictures and pressed the phone to his ear again. As he chatted, he looked around the room with an undisguised air of disgust.

 

“I know he’s got an eye gone, but look how pretty he is… All that hair… He’d make a nice match to the one in red you just picked out… No, they say he’s fighter grade, but reasonably well behaved…” Spike looked to his host. “Can he speak?”

 

The man barked at Xander, “Recite your kills!”

 

Xander started reeling off his impressive recorded kill list, but Spike waved him to silence before he got past two species.

 

The phone was back to his ear. “No, I’ve not seen to that, hold on.” Spike turned to his host who left off rolling his eyes and pulled a pleasant smile of servitude. “We need to see all of him.”

 

“He’s not pleasure grade, I told you.”

 

“I don’t care. His value is already lowered because of the eye. We’re not going to buy anything without making sure everything is in place.”

 

“Very well.” Xander’s eye narrowed as the tough came over to him. “Raise your arms,” he snapped. The muscles in Xander’s Africa-tanned arms bunched as he raised the heavy chains binding him. With a practiced move, the man unfastened Xander’s posing pouch and whipped it away.

 

Spike came over and knelt before the now-naked Xander. He snapped his fingers at a flunky and pointed at the bound slave’s crotch. Used to this sort of thing, the slim boy came over and presented Xander’s genitals to him. Spike stood and shooed the boy away. “Yes boss, they look intact.” Again he paced the small space. The host handed the pouch to the flunky who quickly redressed the tensed slave.

 

“Yes… yes… I agree. I will call you back shortly.” He looked over both males one more time, this time looking each of them in the eye for a brief moment. “Fine! Let us talk.”

 

Xander did his best to relax as Spike and the host tossed sums of money around. Spike spent all his time pointing out Xander’s flaws, and the host regaled Spike with stories of Xander’s fighting prowess and what a loss it would be to make him a decorative slave. Xander had to hide a barely-suppressed snort of laughter with a clink of chains when Spike said “Look, if my boss wants him to be nothing more than a doughnut boy, it’s not your business.” The vampire shot him a look of annoyance. More sums were bantered about and the host pulled out a cell phone of his own.

 

Finally, the two shook hands over a figure your average human could buy a nice house with and Spike swept from the room without a backwards glimpse.

 

A bright yellow ribbon was draped across his chest, and Xander was lead from the show room and to a holding pen he’d never seen.

 

Some four hours later, Xander, a tiny dark skinned human in a skimpy blue wrap, and a green-skinned female in a red toga were lead off the ship for the first time in months. The unshifting ground felt wrong under Xander’s feet. The human girl cried silently, and Xander just moved as directed as they were taken to a nondescript van. A muscular black man stood by with several chains at his feet. Few words were exchanged as the slave keeper removed the heavy chains from the females and the black man replaced them with lighter, but no less strong looking ones.

 

“Watch this one,” the keeper said when they came to Xander. “He can be tricky.”

 

The man just nodded. “Boss likes them to fight.” He flashed a grin at Xander which made him think he’d seen the man somewhere before. The man opened the van’s door and his fighter-trained eye took in the weakness of the man’s left leg. Was everyone in this outfit crippled? “You have to climb in your own damn self, though. I ain’t gonna help.”

 

Xander watched the demon girl struggle for all of three seconds before picking her up and setting her inside. She gave a startled squeak, but shot him a grateful look as she settled on a padded bench. It was forbidden for slaves to touch one another without permission, but he was willing to risk it. He helped the human, then climbed in himself. The black man climbed up himself and swiftly locked all their chains to a central rail. He said nothing more, but Xander saw him give each of the girls a secretive, comforting pat on the back as he checked their chains.

 

Once they were all settled with the black man in the front passenger seat and on the move, Xander took a more careful look around the van. It was a standard American model, but the back had been remodeled to function as a police van. Padded benches lined both walls and welded-in poles showed evidence of wear. A heavy metal grill and a curtain separated the back from the passenger compartment. There were no windows.

 

 

 

As they traveled, Xander systematically checked every link in his new chain. He’d always done this and he always would. Briefly, he wondered if his sellers had shared this information. Probably not. To be honest with himself, he was surprised they’d let him live this long. After checking the chains, he sat still and thought. He’d gotten very good at that and now that he finally had new things to think about, he really threw himself into it. He ignored the two females as they huddled together, talking a little quietly, and drawing comfort from one another. Every slave knew that any situation could quickly become worse. No matter how bad, there could always be a worse. He did not share the probable identity of their buyer. Or, at least of his or her purchasing agent.

 

Spike. God Damn. He’d heard his one-time roommate had been mystically resurrected, then within the same month, he heard of his probable demise. Just how long had he been a captive for enough time to pass for the stubborn vamp to cycle back to life? Then again, the accent, the almost-effeminate mannerisms? Maybe it wasn’t Spike. Maybe he’d been sold into the possession of some damn rich freak who would make him stand around all day with a potted plant on his back. He’d heard such stories.

 

He could hear the black man talking, but if the driver was answering, he was too quiet for Xander to hear. The low volume pop music on the radio and the road noise didn’t help. Pop music. Good old American rock and roll. It had been… years?… since he’d heard any amount of it.

 


Chapter 3

They’d traveled for a good half hour before the van slowed and went over a series of speed bumps. From the angle, Xander guessed they were going into an underground garage.

 

He listened as both front doors opened and the people climbed out. As the rear doors rattled open, he used the sound to cover his last strong pull on the chain. His muscles bunched and strained, and the weak link he’d been worrying since he found it parted in his hands. He sat with his hands between his knees, clutching and hiding the broken ends.

 

The black man appeared with a huge smile. “All right girls and boy, time to change rides.”

 

Xander still felt he knew this man from somewhere, but all thoughts of him vanished when another, much smaller man stepped into view. A small smile quirked the driver’s narrow lips as he climbed up in the van. “Hey, man,” he said as he went to the females and knelt before them.

 

Xander blinked in disbelief and watched as he took out a key and unlocked their chains. “Hello, ladies. We have to change vans and put some clothes on you, but you’re safe now,” he said gently.

 

Xander knew the females did not speak English, so he translated, effortlessly speaking in the dialect he’d heard them using earlier. They listened with wide eyes as the fighter spoke to them. Fighters weren’t allowed to speak to pleasure girls. They could rent them, use them, strike them, and generally do as they pleased, as long as they did not hold a conversation with them. He tried a weak smile and added to Oz’s instructions. “I know this man. He’s a good soul. I am very sure we’re in the best possible hands.”

 

They continued to clutch one another and rubbed their freed limbs in wonderment. They ducked their heads in submission to Xander then to the slim red headed man who tossed the chains to a corner.

 

“Thanks,” Oz said as he turned to undo Xander’s chains. Xander opened his hands, let the broken chain fall free, stood, and pulled the remaining chains from his wrist cuffs and threw them aside himself.

 

He looked down at his long ago friend and was rewarded with as big a grin as Oz ever shared. “Cool,” Oz said. “We have to move. There’s time for a quick bathroom stop and a change of clothes.”

 

Xander jumped down from the van, knowing he was finally a free man again, and put aside the confusion that came with that. They were still running.

 

After Xander helped the females out of the van, Oz followed. “Xander, this is Gunn.”

 

Xander took the presented hand in a long-unused handshake. “One of Angel’s crew,” he said, finally placing the man. He’d seen a couple of photos of him.

 

“Was.” Gunn smiled and shook out his freed hand. “Nice grip, man. Leave me some fingers next time.”

 

With Xander translating and showing the females how to use a modern toilet, they moved swiftly to a different van. This one was as beat up and rusty as the other one sleek and new. Oz handed out sets of simple sweat pants, t-shirts, and flip flops. The females looked in wonder at the garments when Oz through Xander instructed them to change clothes.

 

“I had to guess at your size,” Oz said apologetically. “I only had those tiny pictures to go by. Had it been anyone but Spike, I’d have thought it a joke.”

 

Xander took the clothes and fingered the new cotton. He slipped on the black draw string pants and unfolded the t-shirt. A missed tag caught his eye. “Wal-Mart,” he said softly.

 

“Yeah. Bigger and more evil than ever.”

 

The t-shirt was snug, but it felt good to be clothed again.

 

Gunn did his best to look away from the attractive, healthy females as they changed.

 

Once everyone was dressed, Gunn clapped his hands. “Right. There’s food in the van. And we’ve got a ways to go to get to the safe house. Any one else need to potty?”

 

Xander settled the females in the back seat, presenting them with bottled water, bags of nuts, crackers, fruit, and other simple foods. They looked disbelieving at the bounty. Xander knew how they felt. “Oz,” he said softly, “come here and tell them this is all for them. I don’t think they believe me.”

 

Oz slipped into the seat in front of them and leaned over it. He pointed to the food, then to them. “This is for you.” Xander translated. “Eat as much as you want, but do not make yourselves sick. There will be more when you want it.”

 

The demon girl listened to the translation, then threw herself to her knees, took Oz’s hand in hers, pressed her forehead to it and spoke in a quick, breathless voice. The human girl soon had his other hand and was doing the same.

 

He turned a puzzled brow to Xander who smiled. “They are thanking their gods for such a generous and kind master.”

 

“But I’m not…”

 

“Let’s sort it out later. Right now, they most want to gorge themselves with this bounty and look at their new pretty clothes.”

 

Oz firmly pulled his hands away and smiled at them.

 

Oz climbed in the driver’s seat, Xander beside him, and Gunn sat with his leg stretched out on the seat in the middle.

 

“Want to pick the tunes?” Oz asked as he turned the key.

 

“Got any… Beatles?”

 

“I’ve got something better, just for you.” Oz pushed a button on the CD player, and Patsy Cline started singing her music of pain.

 

“How did you know, Oz?”

 

“That’s a gift from Willow. She had me find a music store and buy it for you.”

 

“Willow?” Xander thrilled to hear about his old friend so soon. “How is she?”

 

“She’s great, man.”

 

Xander listened to the first song through, then jumped to his favorite track. He listened to it, filling in the few words his mind had blurred over the years, then stopped the disc. “Enough with the sad. About those Beatles?”

 

Xander watched out the window in dazed amazement as the sun came up, reveling San Francisco in all its concrete glory. Some fifteen minutes out, once they were clear of the city, Oz interrupted his daze. “I forgot your prize pack, sorry man.”

 

“No problem,” Xander mumbled, still enjoying the billboards, trees, and pretty free people in open top cars.

 

Gunn tore his attention from the now shyly smiling and still-eating girls to hand a bag up to Xander. In addition to fruits and nuts, a new box of Twinkies and two Hershey bars cuddled with a still-cool bottle of Coca-Cola. Xander took out a chocolate bar and held it in his hands as if it were the holy grail. He didn’t even notice when a tear hit his wrist.

 

Oz saw it, but said nothing.

 

“This wealth could buy you a whole night with a girl like them,” Xander said softly. “The whole bag could get you three girls and someone killed.” Oz knew to say nothing. “How long has it been, Oz?”

 

"Since the riot when you vanished? Five years. They searched for a long time. Finally... well... you’ll be happy to know there is still a code on the books for you.”

 

“What’s that?”

 

“Code doughnut.”

 

Xander chuckled. “How long have you been back in the fold?”

 

“About four years.”

 

Xander met the steady brown eyes that flicked his way from the road. Calm, smart Oz. Xander had kept him in the stable of memories that kept him sane. There were times that the he could keep him from panicking by telling himself to be “cool like Oz.” No man was perfect, and he did remember that horrible Halloween in the frat house, but the way the small man strode through life, meeting it in a matter-of-fact way had always impressed Xander. He knew he could ask of his friend what he needed to know. “Tell me the news, Oz. Please. Give me all the bad that people will hem and haw about.”

 

Oz glanced over at Xander and nodded. “Rip the band aid. I get it.” Oz took a breath and centered himself. “Chronologically. Just before you were captured, the council got word about the LA office of Wolfram & Hart being taken down. They knew Spike had been working with Angel and no survivors were reported.”

 

“I got a little bit of that… just before.”

 

“That was a hell of a thing, literally,” Gunn put in. “We lost Wesley. Angel, Spike and I barely got out. Illyria sacrificed herself to save us. To save everything, really.”

 

“Who’s Illyria.?”

 

“Ah, it’s along story. I’ll tell you over a bottle of something that bites one night.”

 

Xander honored Gunn’s dismissive tone and changed the topic. “So that really was Spike,” Xander asked finally.

 

“Which voice did he use?” Oz asked.

 

“German.”

 

“Ralph von Hoffman.” Oz nodded.

 

“What’s with that? The… poofyness?” Xander asked.

 

“Good actor, man.”

 

Oz and Gunn gave Xander a few details about his rescuer, but clearly respected the vampire’s privacy. After the LA deal went down, Spike and company sought out the Watcher’s council and convinced them to help in the possible mystical backlash. He wound up working undercover in RRWW as Spike called it. “But he won’t tell us what it means,” Oz added.

 

Xander remembered with a chill. Spike had laughed at the phrase in one of the old comics he’d bought at a yard sale. It was about a secret agent who was in RRWW. Rescue, Recovery, and Wet Works.

 

“What else, Oz?” Xander asked. “5 years can’t pass without bad things happening.”

 

“Your dad. I’m sorry, man, but last year he died in a car wreck.”

 

“Was he drunk?”

 

“Double the legal limit.”

 

“Bastard,” Xander said quietly. “I always knew he’d go that way if his liver didn’t explode first. Was anyone else hurt?”

 

“No. He managed to find the one sign post in a fifteen mile stretch of desert.”

 

“Isn’t that the Harris luck? And my Mom?”

 

“She’s living with her sister in Texas, last we heard.”

 

“Good.” Oz let Xander digest that information and ask for more when he was ready. Xander shuffled through the music until he found something new. “What else?” He asked after a couple of songs. “Give me something good.”

 

“Willow and I are married.”

 

“What happened to ‘gay now?’”

 

Oz shrugged. “Souls mean more than bodies. About for years ago… here’s the next bad bit, sorry… Willow’s folks died in a plane crash.” Xander looked unseeing out the window. He’d not known her folks very well, considering how much time he’d spent with Willow. He’d interacted with the cook more than he had the Rosenbergs. As his friend got older, they’d seemed to have less and less to do with her.

 

Oz continued his story. “I was in the states on Council business and came to see her. We wound up talking all night. Again. Willow was pretty torn up, as you can imagine. Kennedy didn’t like that she talked to me and not her. She left Willow four months later. Gave her some line about needing to find some happiness.”

 

“I never did really like her. Too… caustic,” Xander confessed.

 

“Caustic is a good word. I came to visit again when I heard and I never left.”

 

"I’m very happy for you two.”

 

“Buffy and Dawn are still in Rome. Dawn is about to start her second year on her Masters in Languages and Mythology.”

 

“At least someone got something out of all our researching.”

 

“Giles is living on his family property in Kent. He had a stroke about two years ago and doesn’t get around as much as he did.”

 

“Damn. That must be frustrating for him.” Xander’s heart ached for his mentor and friend.

 

“He’s writing now. Last I heard, he’d found a publisher for his novel.”

 

“A novel? I thought he’d write stuffy histories.”

 

“Horror novel. It’s got a werewolf in it,” Oz grinned.

 


Chapter 4

The conversation soon switched to trivial things. The females, overwhelmed and full of food, drifted off the sleep, Gunn read a book, Oz skillfully maneuvered the van north through heavy traffic, and Xander watched the world through the heavily tinted windows. Occasionally, Xander would savor a treat from his bag or ask details about the world he’d so missed. They decided to keep moving as long as the females were asleep.

 

Three hours later, the females woke up as they stopped at a security gate. Oz leaned out the window and punched in a code. The gates opened by themselves, and Xander heard the females whispering about seeing such things one of the places they’d been sent to service.

 

“Whose place is this, anyway?” Xander asked as he looked at the lush tree growth they passed.

 

“On the deed, the Watcher’s council. In reality, Willow and Daniel Osborne.”

 

“Really?” Xander asked. “How’s that work?”

 

Gunn spoke up. “That’s a bit of my work.” Xander remembered hearing about Gunn’s instant lawyer training and wished he could have gotten all of high school that way. “As you know, Willow’s folks were quite wealthy, and left her a tidy sum. At the same time, the Watchers Council was looking for a piece of property where they could train Slayers in America. She found this place, bought it, and donated it to the council with all these legal stipulations that allow her to live here and run the place as she sees fit, but without all those nasty taxes and utility bills.”

 

Xander smiled and nodded. “That’s my Willow.”

 

They rounded a bend and the three-story house came into view. It was colonial without being over-blown. The shady porch sported inviting rocking chairs. The wide yard around it was well cared for, with flowers and neatly-trimmed shrubs everywhere. What drew Xander’s attention the most was Willow standing at the door.

 

He climbed out and stood looking at his often missed friend. In a daze she walked toward her oldest pal, looking him up and down. The t-shirt Oz hoped would be loose only served to accentuate the massive muscles in Xander’s chest and arms. The wide silver slave bracelets were still welded about his wrists. His complexion, already naturally dark, had been baked darker still. His unbound hair flowed glossy and thick to his waist. Here and there jewels of various kinds winked in the sun. His expression was unreadable.

 

Timidly, Willow approached Xander and raised a shaking hand to touch his chest. “Xander?”

 

He could hold out no longer, and allowed his grin to escape. “Hey, Wills!”

 

“You’re alive!”

 

“That’s what they tell me.” He gave into impulse, wrapped his arms around his friend and twirled her around twice, his hair flying and the jewels glinting, before setting her down again. Willow whooped in delight and refused to let go even after the ride was over.

 

“Xander, Xander, Xander. My Xander,” she happily chanted. Even though some part of her mind took in the new, wild look and scent of him and knew “her” Xander really was no more. She could hardly close her arms about his chest.

 

“I hate to interrupt,” Gunn called, “but I think the ladies are afraid to come out.” Gunn stood by the open van doors as the two other former slaves huddled inside.

 

Willow pulled herself from Xander’s arms and wiped her eyes. “Oh. I forgot about them. Midra!” she called to the house.

 

A tall, slender black woman glided out of the house. She wore a traditional caftan and her dredlocked hair was pulled back. “Are they here?” she asked in a musical voice.

 

“Over here, baby!” Gunn called.

 

Midra smiled at Xander in passing as she quickly went to the van. She exchanged a brief hug and kiss with Gunn before climbing in the van.

 

“That’s Midra. She’s one of the first slaves we rescued. She works here as councilor and translator.”

 

Xander turned his attention back to his friend, lifting a scarred hand and soothing her twirl-mussed hair. “It’s so God damn good to see you, Willow.”

 

“You, too. Oh, God, you, too. Come on in. There’s some more people who want to see you.”

 

Xander surrendered Willow to her husband and followed them into the air conditioned dimness of the house. He felt a chill that didn’t entirely have to do with the temperature.

 

“Welcome to Rosenberg Hall,” Willow said.

 

Xander looked around at the dark woods on the staircase and the clean, pale walls. A wide stairway curved up from one side of the entranceway. It kind of reminded him of the long-gone Rovello Drive house.

 

“Nice.” He followed her meekly, half listening to the inventory of rooms, the history of the house, and how she’d managed to buy it from the former once-famous owner. The rooms were all clean and tidy, the atmosphere safe and inviting. He could see gardens and other buildings out tall windows.

 

He followed her through another arch. “And through here is the room where all the strays wind up.”

 

It was a large living room with a flat screen TV and worn, comfortable seating. The curtains were pulled closed and the only light came from the unfamiliar sit com on the TV. What caught his attention was the man he could see in profile. Spike sprawled on a chair with one boot up on the coffee table, and the other tucked under that thigh. The long-fingered hand that wasn’t clutching a beer was splayed on his hip, accentuating his crotch. His shirt was a faded black and his jeans torn at the knee. Except for the dark, long-haired pony tail, Spike looked so much like a scene from years before that Xander had to swallow his emotions.

 

Willow theatrically cleared her throat when Spike didn’t look up from the television. “You should have that looked at, Red,” he drawled.

 

“Spike! Look who’s here!”

 

Lazily, the vampire dropped his head back on the seat back and rolled it to face them as if it were the greatest effort in the world to make the move. “Hey, Whelp,” he said, then turned back to the TV.

 

Willow almost stomped her foot. “Spike! It’s Xander!”

 

Spike shrugged and sipped his beer. “I know. Found him, didn’t I?”

 

Xander exchanged a wink with Willow and strode over to Spike. Even though the vamp didn’t move, Xander knew he was watching his every move from the corner of his eye. He saw Spike tense as he approached and snatched the beer from his hand.

 

“Oi! Get your own!” Xander drained it in two long gulps, crushed the can flat, and handed it back.

 

He patted Spike on the head. “Thanks, fangless,” he said fondly as he turned back to Willow. “Is there anyone here who would be glad to see me?”

 

Spike watched them go and then stared at the crushed can. He was very glad to know there was still some puppy in the beast.

 

Xander’s joking question was met with a squeal of delight that made everyone’s hair stand on end. A bright green haired, tall, slight figure rocketed at him from the back of the house. If he hadn’t fondly preserved the memory of that sound from years before, Dawn Summers could easily have ended up badly broken. As it was, Xander caught her up and spun her around much as he had Willow, only four more times.

 

Willow had to snatch a vase out of harm’s way, but she couldn’t scold her old friend.

 

Finally he sat her down, but did not let go of the young woman weeping and clutching at him. “I told them you’d come back. I told them to keep code doughnut on the list.”

 

“Was that your idea, Dawnie?”

 

“Yeah. Doughnut’s not a word you say much when talking about Africa, is it?”

 

Xander reveled in the feel of her strong, wiry body in his arms. She’d matured, but kept the slimness. He opened his eye to see Spike leaning in the doorway, a lop-sided smile on his lips.

 

Dawn finally pushed away, but kept a hand on his arm. “Let me look at you, TarXAN. Wow! You’re hot!”

 

“Wasn’t I always?” he asked with a visit from his old crooked grin.

 

“Well, yeah, but now you look like something found on the internet.”

 

“Dawn!” Willow scolded, teasingly.

 

“Not that I look at such things. And those jewels are beautiful! I’m so glad I happened to be visiting when Spike called! Oh my God! I want to show you the house, and we’ve got so much to catch up on. Where have you been?”

 

Oz saw Xander’s back tighten, and stepped in. “It’s been along trip for him, Dawnie.” As always, Oz’s steadying presence cut through the chaos.

 

She blushed. “I’m sorry, Xander. I just missed you so much.”

 

“You, too, Dawn. We’ll talk later.”

 

Oz turned to his old friend. “What do you want to do now, Xander?”

 

“If there are no more green-haired banshees going to come out at me, and I want to hear the story about that later…” he closed his eyes and brought up long-shelved I’m-free-and-back-in-the states fantasies. “I would like… as hot and long a shower as possible. A medium rare steak with all the proper sides, cold beer, a big, tall glass of milk, and chocolate ice cream for dessert.”

 

Willow and Dawn laughed. Oz smiled warmly. “It will mean a trip to the store, but we can do that, no problem,” Willow said. She went to her friend and cupped his cheek, looking into his eye, she smiled. “Welcome back, Xander.” Xander kissed the palm of her hand. “Come on, Dawn, help me take inventory. Oz, can you show him the guest room?”

 

Oz nodded and Xander hesitated, turning back to the living room door. The vampire was gone. “Hold on a minute,” he said and returned to the other room.

 

Spike had resumed a variant of his sprawl, apparently watching TV, but Xander knew him well enough to know he was actually staring and thinking. “Spike?” he said quietly.

 

“Yeah, mate?”

 

Xander came in and sat on the coffee table, facing Spike. “There is something I need to do, a ceremony, and it takes a warrior to help me.”

 

Spike steadily met the clear brown eye. “Want me to help you kill the bastards that captured you? ‘cause that’s some proper killing.”

 

Xander shook his head and shut his eye tiredly. “No. Not that. That’s… later.” Xander opened his eye to see the vampire nodding in understanding. “It’s… I want rid of Africa. As soon as possible. Will you help me?”

 

“Yeah, mate. Anything you ask.”

 

“Join me in my room after dinner. Bring a sharp knife, a candle, red if it’s to be had, a handkerchief size piece of clean cloth, and a small box or draw string bag.” Xander cupped his hands together to show what size was need.

 

“This ain’t going to get kinky, is it?” Spike asked, tilting his head, and lightning the mood.

 

Xander didn’t hesitate, but reached out and stroked Spike’s hair, once. “I don’t know. Tabula rasa, Spike. I want to be a blank slate, and I need help to do it.”

 

He’d half expected Spike to flinch, turn snarky, or at worse throw it all in his face. But Spike just nodded. “Share the wealth of steak and you’re on.”

 

Xander grinned and stood up. “Willow! Add another rare sirloin for the vamp to your list.”

 

Spike stared after him. He didn’t know this man. Not at all. He’d seen the seeds of this strength, both mental and physical, and he knew plenty about slave colonies. He wanted to know how this slave had remained unbreakable, and found he wanted to get to know this new man, too.

 

Absently, Spike stroked his hair where Xander’s great, warm hand had touched him twice now. He had to learn what was up with that.

 


Chapter 5

Xander followed Oz up the stairs. On the second floor, Oz pointed out where his and Willow’s room was, the guest room favored by Dawn, and at the end of the hall, the door the Spike’s chosen room. On the third floor, Oz pointed out the “library annex” / Midra’s sewing room across the hall from a large, sunny guest suite under the eves of the house.

 

 

 

It was some twenty feet wide, and painted in warm creams and accented with crimson and rich purples. He glanced around at he king sized bed, wardrobe, comfortable lounge chair under the window, and many touches of home. A bright vase of fresh flowers sat on the dresser, a sign propped on the table by a dish of candy read “Welcome Home Xander,” and the bed was turned down with a mint on the pillow. Oz pointed out that the bathroom was attached to an on-demand water heater of its own and he really could have the shower of his dreams.

 

 

“If I take too long, just fan the scent of the steak in here, and I’ll be out in no time,” Xander smiled.

 

 

 

“No hurry, Xander. I only bought the one set of clothes. I’ll see what Gunn can loan you.”

 

 

 

For a second, Xander wondered how Oz knew he wanted clean clothes, even though he’d only worn these in the van. Werewolf. Oz wanted Africa gone, too. Xander felt himself relax another notch. He put his hand on Oz’s wiry shoulder. “Thank you. Hey, Oz. It’s great to see you.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, you too. I’ll leave them on your bed. If there’s anything else you want, prowl in the drawers. I think there’s a spare one of everything. Willow likes to play hostess.”

 

 

 

The bathroom was large with two windows, a huge tub, and a shower stall. It was a heaven to Xander, with clean blue and white tiles, and a whimsical motif of dolphins. He picked up the bar of soap on the sink and breathed deeply. America. Indoor plumbing. Endless hot water. Heaven. Home.

 

 

 

Xander wasted no time in stripping off the too-tight t-shirt and dropping the pants. He suddenly realized he’d left the flip-flops in the van. It had been so long since he’d warn shoes, he’d not missed them. He tossed the hated show pouch in the trash can and stood, naked and still stinking of the hold of the ship before a floor-length mirror. He inventoried every scar, all those visible, and those they’d magiked off when they still thought him pretty.

 

 

 

Stray sunbeams crept in the high window and played with the gems in his hair. He wanted to rip them out and fling them far into the ocean, but they were all he had. All he owned. He’d plant these stone seeds and build a new life. Hopefully, Spike would help him. He deliberately turned his back on African Xander, and stepped into the shower.

 

 

 

Xander sighed as he stepped into the hot spray. It was half an hour before he could override his ingrained caution and close his eyes for more than a minute at a time as he scrubbed at his body with any soap that came to hand. It was another fifteen before he could keep them closed for ten minutes. It was five minutes more before he let himself slide down the wall to sit in the spray and thank every god he knew that Spike had found him and brought him home.

 

 

 

Downstairs, Spike wandered into the kitchen where Dawn and Willow were writing out a shopping list. As they checked the quantity of baking potatoes, he added the name of Xander’s favorite beer to the paper before quietly slipping away.

 

 

 

An hour later, the return of the triumphant shoppers drew everyone to the kitchen. Tasks were distributed and the meal preparation was well underway. Gunn came in at one point to convey what Midra had told him about the gems. They were trophies and it was best to not ask about them.

 

 

 

Another hour later, Xander appeared in the dining room. He’d pulled his hair back into a rough braid, so it was contained and he could ignore it. Gunn’s yellow t-shirt with a faded dragon decal on it and a soft green flannel shirt topped off dark purple draw string pants.

 

 

 

“Just in time!” Willow cried as she opened the oven to pull out the potatoes.

 

 

 

“Still have the same fashion sense, I see,” Spike quipped.

 

 

 

“Nah, can’t blame me. Oz picked it out. I know wolves are color blind, but really!”

 

 

 

Gunn limped in with Midra on his arm. “Hey! Those are all my most comfortablist, lounge about the house clothes. I don’t share with just anyone.”

 

 

 

Oz shrugged. “You’d take fashion tips from a man who used to dye his hair every week?”

 

 

 

Midra had left the two females sleeping in the detached guest house with a Council , and the rest of them crowed around the long plank table. Xander and Spike enjoyed their steaks and the rest had more reasonable lunch-like food.

 

 

 

With the aid of Oz and, surprisingly, Spike, the conversation stayed light throughout the meal. Gunn and Dawn had them all laughing at the reenactment of highlights of the past five year’s television seasons in ten minutes or less. Xander had to cry “no spoilers” when they wanted to tell him about the last “Star Wars” movie. Oz filled him in on the sad state of pop music today with loud and pointed comments from Spike and more than a few counterpoints from Dawn.

 

 

 

Over ice cream, the best story was told. Xander’s favorite was the story of the intense reunion, courtship, and marriage of Willow Rosenberg and Daniel Osborne.

 

 

 

Finally, they’d all cleaned their plates and polished off their ice cream. Xander stood and kissed all the cooks, including Gunn when he foolishly bragged about having peeled the potatoes and carrots. That earned Xander a play glower from Midra, who was quite possessive of her Charles.

 

 

 

“Thank you all,” he said, stilling the conversations and cleaning. “I know you want to know my story, and I respect you not asking. I will tell it, but it will be in my own way, my own time. I’d put aside my dreams of rescue years ago. Now, you’ve physically gotten me out of there, and I must pull my self the rest of the way. I think I can. I hope I can.” Before they could descend on him with hugs and tears, he turned his back and strode from the room.

 

 

 

Spike drained the rest of his beer, sat the bottle solidly on the table, and followed without meeting anyone’s puzzled looks.

 

 

 

“Where’s he going?” Gunn asked.

 

 

 

“Xander spoke to him before we went upstairs,” Oz supplied.

 

 

 

Only Midra was unconcerned. She spoke in her sharp accent. “They are both Warriors. There are some things, honor things, that only a Warrior may help another one do.”

 

 

 

“I’m a warrior, too,” Gunn pouted.

 

 

 

Midra stooped to kiss the top of his head as she went past with her hands full of dishes. “You’re my warrior and I’m not sharing.”

 

 

 

“Aw, thanks baby. Hey, wait, ew!”

 

 

 

“And ya got a dirty mind!” she called over her shoulder from the sink, breaking the tension with the laughter she caused.

 

Spike stopped in his second floor room and grabbed up the little bundle of items he’d gathered. He didn’t let himself pause or speculate, but joined Xander upstairs.

 

 

 

He found Xander naked, lighting the last of the three oil lamps that sat around the room. Spike knew they were pretty much decorative, but functional. He couldn’t help but size up Xander’s transformed body. The years he had done construction work had made him strong, but the past years had layered on the muscle. These were muscles born of hard work and fighting, not work benches and posing. Spike saw the scars, too, and would not allow himself to speculate about his mental ones. He pushed down another wave of anger at the slavers. He had always hated slavers. Xander had removed the eye patch, and Spike could see by the even darkness of his skin around the scar that he rarely wore one. “Lock the door,” Xander said. Spike did so and stood ready for almost anything, but uncertain what was expected. “Clear the floor, please.”

 

 

 

Spike rolled the round rug with it’s pseudo Victorian pattern and pushed it aside, clearing a wide expanse of hardwood floor. He watched as Xander took out the tie from his long hair and shook it loose. The gems tied within the dark waves winked in the light. Then he knelt on his toes and knees on the floor facing the tightly curtained window. “Kneel here,” Xander pointed at a space three feet in front of him. Spike did. “Put he candle here,” he pointed in front of him, “and light it.” Spike did so. “Place the knife here,” he pointed with his left hand to that side of the candle. Spike took out his favorite illegally long, razor sharp knife and flicked out the blade. “Place the container here,” he pointed with his right hand to that side of the candle. Spike sat down a little wooden box with a pentacle worked into it. He’d bought it as a gift to Willow, but with the excitement of finding Xander, it had seemed unimportant. “Place the cloth between you and the candle.” Spike laid down a fourteen inch square of blue cloth he’d filched from Midra’s sewing room.

 

 

 

Xander tested the edge of the knife, opened the little box, looked through the candle flame at the cloth, and looked Spike in the eye. “I find you and these things worthy. Will you aid me in the beginning of the cleansing of the past?”

 

 

 

“I will,” Spike answered, feeling the hairs on his arms stand at the slight stirring of magic. Briefly, he wondered what Willow would say about someone other than herself casting spells under what was basically her roof.

 

 

 

Downstairs, Willow looked sharply up from where she was wiping the table. Oz noticed the movement and went to her, worried. She closed her eyes briefly and opened them with a smile. “He’s started a cleansing spell. I think Xander’s going to be fine.”

 

 

 

“Spike, I request you take the cloth with your right hand, and sit behind me, ” Xander said, looking into the candle flame. He did so, kneeling as he had before. “Spread the cloth to your right.” Spike did, using only that hand. Xander picked up the knife with his left hand and intoned a short spell as he passed it through the flame three times. He then held it over his shoulder, handle first, to Spike. “Take this in your left hand.” Then he picked up the box lid with his right hand. This and then the box, he passed through the flame three times as he chanted. These items he placed back by the candle.

 

 

 

“Spike, see this one?” Xander pointed to a large pearl that hung by his neck on the left side.

 

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

“It’s last. Find a jewel low down in my hair,” he instructed, “and take hold of it.”

 

 

 

Spike located a tiny teardrop ruby and took it between two fingers.

 

 

 

“Cut it out, and remove all the hair from it. Put the hair on the cloth.” Spike didn’t hesitate, but quickly freed the jewel and its setting from Xander’s locks. Xander held his left hand up over his shoulder. “Hand me the jewel.” Spike dropped it into his palm.

 

 

 

Xander looked at and recited something in his African dialect, then paused and translated. “Golpic demon. He fought well, but left a mate and spawn behind.” Xander passed gem over the flame. “Forgive me,” he said as it winked in the light, and he transferred it to his right hand. He dropped it into the box.

 

 

 

“Another,” he said.

 

 

 

Several hours passed as the ritual continued. Rubies, diamonds, amethysts, all manner of wealth were freed from their hair knots. A part of Spike’s magpie mind couldn’t help but appraise the gems. This was soon forgotten as Xander told the stories of the kills he’d made to earn his wealth. Some stories he did not translate. Some he did not ask forgiveness. As the gems hung closer to his skull, the stories grew longer and more detailed. Xander’s voice grew hoarse, but he did not waver or stop. The night was well on, the mound of hair large, and the candle short when Xander held up his hand a last time.

 

 

 

Spike spoke for the first time since the beginning. “There’s just the one left,” he said quietly.

 

 

 

“Oh.” Xander slumped a little. “Find the strand it’s on and cut it off at my scalp. Make it as long as you can and give me all of it.”

 

 

 

Spike’s nimble fingers gently closed on the pearl, and worked Xander’s now-ragged hair. He separated out the thick lock it was knotted on and did as Xander directed. He placed it in Xander’s shaking hand. “Sit in front of me, Spike? Let me see you?”

 

 

 

Spike rose gracefully and moved to sit before Xander. He watched as the weary man caressed the pearl. “Anthony,” he said. “Anthony was my friend.” Spike watched Xander’s thick and strong, yet nimble fingers gather all the hair into his fist, and pass the pearl over the flame. “Anthony. I love you, too. Forgive me.” Xander blew out the candle, but did not put the pearl in the box. “Spike, please put the lid on the box and take it from me.”

 

 

 

“Which hand, mate?”

 

 

 

“It doesn’t matter now. Stay where you are but… put it away.” Xander tiredly waved a hand. Spike again noticed the heavy wrist bands and inwardly winced at what they represented. He’d been subjected to such a thing in his existence, too.

 

 

 

Spike took the now-full box, put the lid on, and placed it behind himself. He watched as Xander moved, rising from his knees and resettling cross legged. The vampire winced, knowing how much pain the man must be in. Xander took the hair from his fist and started braiding it. Spike watched his skilled, thick fingers work, carefully braiding his own hair into a tight, small, strong braid.

 

 

 

“Am I really free, Spike?” He asked, quietly, not looking up from his work.

 

 

 

“You’re out of slavery and your own man again. You’re in the United States of America, land of the free.” Spike tapped one of the bands. “Gunn can get these off of you in no time. Physically, I have to say yes. Otherwise,” Spike tilted his head. “You have to break your bonds yourself, mate.”

 

 

 

Xander finished braiding the length of hair and put it around his neck. He brought the ends together and wove them intricately into one. Finally Xander’s work was complete and he dropped his hands tiredly. “Trim the ends, Spike?”

 

 

 

Spike picked up the knife, carefully cut off the last few inches of stray hair, and added them to the pile. Xander stared unseeing at the blackened candle wick and fingered the pearl where it rested in the hollow of his throat.

 

 

 

“I’m so tired, Spike. So fucking tired.” Xander’s eye closed and he slowly slumped forward. Spike caught him and held him as he cried.

 


Chapter 6

Spike held his friend as he quietly sobbed. Big hands bunched in his shirt and pulled him close. Spike did not object. He knew how to sooth, how to comfort. Drusilla would sometimes weep over her losses like this. Even without a soul and crazy as a loon, she would mourn for her family and herself.

 

When Xander moved his legs and gasped in pain, without hesitation, Spike picked him up and carried him to the bed. He grabbed up the warm quilt at the foot of the bed and draped it over Xander’s shuddering body. Then he held the bigger man, petting him, stroking his hair, and murmuring soft, supportive words.

 

Finally, Xander’s breathing evened and the rocking stopped. He rolled away from Spike at last, taking the blanket with him. Spike hesitated, then sat up on the bed. “Don’t go,” Xander croaked.

 

“”I’m not leaving. Just fiddling a bit.” Spike felt Xander’s eye on him as he moved to that side of the bed. “Did Oz forget to tell you about the mini fridge?” Spike knelt by what Xander hand taken for a clunky and ugly bedside cabinet, drew out a bottle of water and opened it. Gratefully, Xander raised himself up and drained the cold, fresh liquid. He never thought he taste of plastic could be so wonderful. When he lowered the bottle, Spike had another ready. Once he’d drained that one, he lay back down and watched Spike moved around the room.

 

“Don’t leave, Spike,” he said again as Spike blew out all but one of the lanterns and carefully folded the ends of the cloth around the hair to tie it into a bundle.

 

Spike paused and cocked his head at Xander. “Don’t leave your room, or don’t leave the house?”

 

“Oz told me you will do jobs then vanish until needed again.”

 

“Sometimes, yeah. Keeps up the ‘mysterious creature of the night’ image.”

 

Xander’s eye closed and his voice slurred. “I have a job for you.”

 

Spike returned to his bedside and put a hand on his shoulder. “You’re too knackered to deal now. I won’t leave this house, I promise, and later I’ll return to your room, okay? Call out if you need anything. I’ll hear you.”

 

Xander nodded into his pillow and fell deeply asleep.

 

Spike stood and allowed himself to think as her watched Xander sleep. The man had loved and lost someone, that was clear. He’d become a killing machine to be respected, and he trusted his former roomie and tormentor with his private rituals. Did this signal another apocalypse? He pulled himself away, put the used spell components on the dresser for later clean up, and blew out the remaining lamp. He hesitated over the box, then decided to take it with him. From what Xander had said, he never wanted to see them again, yet needed to keep them. He could always bring it back.

 

Spike closed the door behind him and went to the small second floor room he liked to use when he stayed over. He heated a packet of blood from his own mini-fridge in the small microwave and rapidly drained it. He wasn’t too surprised when his hands started shaking. Xander’s inner strength amazed him. He had been forced to transform from a gentle, caring soul to one who could kill without passion if commanded. But he’d not changed inside, Spike could see that. The man had kept everything tamped down to survive. He’d kept each reward jewel as a reminder, an albatross of the lives he’d taken. And now the bottle was uncorked. Spike knew in his soul want Xander wanted from him. Hell, he’d stick around even if Xander didn’t ask him. He knew the Xander of old and respected him. Spike just hoped he was strong enough to do it. Five years is a very long time to stay unbroken.

 

It was ten o’clock by the time he’d taken a quick shower and changed. Three pairs of eyes followed him as he reached the foot of the stairs and crossed to his favorite chair. “Anything good on, or shall we pay-per-view?” he asked as if he hadn’t just spent most of the day closeted with one of their best long-lost friends. He allowed the TV Guide flung by Dawn to connect with his head. “Watch it. Fella could get a paper cut.”

 

“Tell!” Dawn demanded. Willow silently echoed her, and Oz just held his wife, supporting her, but not pressuring Spike.

 

“Xander spent five years being unbroken. He’s going to have to break before he can mend.”

 

Willow let her anger turn to tears. “I remember Midra. She was only a slave for a year and a half. It took her a long time to get over it.”

 

“She still hasn’t completely,” Oz said quietly.

 

“You never do,” Spike put in, looking emptily at the TV. Willow started to ask him how he could know, but Dawn was moving before she could say anything. She sat on the floor beside Spike and put her head in his lap as she had long ago through lonely nights in that dark summer when Buffy had been dead. His hand moved to her unnaturally green hair and stroked it, comforting her, and taking as much offered comfort as he could allow.

 

They sat like this as the TV babbled about celebrity marriages and Willow cried herself out. Finally, Spike sniffed in a “it’s just allergies, never mind me” way and tugged at Dawn’s hair. “So, what’s the story, my green haired goblin?”

 

“Oh, that. I… um… I met Lorne.”

 

“Lorne?” Spike fondly remembered the demon with red eyes, horns, and green hair and skin. Lorne was always respectful to him, even when he was incorporeal. They had once spent a night drinking and swapping Angel stories. “I thought he went into hiding.”

 

“He did. Both Gunn and Angel have tried to get me to tell them where he is, but I never will. I won’t tell you, either, so don’t ask.”

 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, Niblet. So why go green?”

 

“He was down and lonely. He didn’t think anyone could ever find him attractive. So…”

 

“Show of solidarity?”

 

“Yeah.”

 

“If you talk to the velvet frog again, tell him I say hey. But be careful, Niblet,” Spike said. “I know too well the slippery slope of hair treatment.”

 

All eyes turned to Oz, he of the oft-changing hair, who returned the looks with a steady, knowing gaze. “Stick with black or shades of red,” he said wisely.

 

“I’ll keep that in mind. No bleaching.”

 

Spike wagged a finger at her. “It stings, pet. Like hell it does.”

 

“So why did you for so long?”

 

“It reminded me of Dru.”

 

“Dru?” Willow asked. “She didn’t dye her hair.”

 

“No,” Spike sighed. “My black plum could make it hurt… oh so good.”

 

“Ew,” Dawn said. “No bleaching for sure.”

 

“If you must try it put seven or eight packets of Sweet-n-Low in it, it doesn’t sting quite so much.”

 

Spike sat in companionable conversation for a little while. He listened to the others talk about plans to return the demon girl to her clan later that night and the human to her family back in Africa.

 

The very mention of Africa suddenly dropped the weight of the last couple of days on Spike’s shoulders and he drooped. Only Dawn noticed. She put her hand up beside her cheek where it rested on his thigh.

 

“What’s wrong?” she asked quietly.

 

“I’ve not slept in a long time, Niblet. It just caught up with me.” He petted her hair reassuringly.

 

Dawn squeezed his knee and asked timidly, “will he be all right?”

 

“In time, yeah. And… I think he wants me to stay near.”

 

Dawn sat up and rose to her knees. “So you’ll be hanging around for a while?”

 

This drew Willow and Oz’s attention from the movie. Spike sighed. “Looks like.”

 

“Yay! You’ll be around for my birthday!”

 

“I always send you pretties, don’t I?” Spike asked fondly, cupping her cheek.

 

“Yes. But it’s not the same as having another chance to try to get you to wear a pointy hat.”

 

Spike dropped his head back on the chair and moaned dramatically. “You were eleven. It was for three seconds. Let it go.”

 

Dawn’s bright smile lit the room for Spike. “Nope. Even when I turn a hundred and ten, I’ll be after you with a pointy hat every birthday.”

 

Spike smiled. “It’s a date.” He stood, stretched, and made a decision. He felt drawn to stay near Xander, saw no reason to hide it and stir up speculations and worries. “I’m crashing in the comfy chair in Xander’s room. Don’t know how he’ll be feeling when he wakes up.”

 

The light mood vanished. “It’s bad isn’t it?” Willow asked. “Even though he seemed so cheerful as he ate.”

 

“He was a captive, a slave for five years, Red. He’s changed. They changed him. I think he’s stronger now, in many ways, but that doesn’t make him any less…wounded.”

 

“So what do we do? Act like he’s been on vacation?” Willow chewed her lip with worry.

 

"I respect him." He searched for something they'd understand. "Like he fought the end of the world for five bloody years. Every day closing the Hellmouth. You need to know about him...come to me, right? I’ll get your info.” He gave a sharp nod and turned, cutting of the questioning. “Night."

 

Willow stood and stopped him. “Spike.”

 

“Yeah, Red?” He turned half back around. Willow stepped close and wrapped her arms around him. He hesitated, then returned the hug. Except for Dawn, he was rarely touched. He figured it was habit, he being the Big Bad, a vampire, and all.

 

“Thank you, Spike. Thank you for doing the things you do for all of us.”

 

“Pay’s good,” he covered, his voice catching.

 

Willow ignored him. “Thank you for finding Xander and bringing him out. Thank you for all you’ve done for him, and all you probably will. Just know that as much as you’re there for him, we’re here, too. For both of you.”

 

He looked up to catch a nod of agreement from the solemn Oz and a smile from Dawn over Willow’s shoulder. “Thanks, Luv. That means a lot, it does.”

 

Willow pulled away and wiped her face. “Let me pile up a tray of food. If I know my Xander, he’ll wake up hungry.”

 

“Yeah, that’d be good. He’s as big as horse now, he’ll probably eat like two of ‘em.” He dashed the back of his hand over his eyes.

 

Spike paused at the second floor landing and nipped into Willow and Oz’s bathroom. He took the pair of hair trimming scissors and comb he knew were kept there and continued upstairs.

 

Xander woke up abruptly. Someone had touched him. His body tensed, ready to fight, but the room was still and silent. When he opened his eye and found his vision filled with smooth white instead of rough rock or thatching, his first thought was he’d been blinded. His eye was drawn to the slowly turning ceiling fan, and it all flooded back. The rescue, freedom, his friends, Spike.

 

As if in answer to his thoughts, there was a movement beside him. The side of his leg was touched again. Xander turned his head to find a fully-clothed Spike sprawled mostly face-down beside him, with one leg drawn up, and apparently sound asleep. Spike’s face was lax and his mouth half-open. This wasn’t he first time he’d watched Spike sleep. How many lifetimes ago were the basement days, anyway? The vampire looked much as he always had, as should be expected, but Xander thought he perhaps a little rounder about the face. Maybe pig’s blood was fattening. Spike’s long hair was starting escape its braid and Xander’s hands itched to comb and re-braid it.

 

Then Spike’s face tensed, and his leg twitched. Spike’s knee nudged Xander again. “Aw, like a puppy,” Xander thought. As soon as a smile stretched his lips at the image, Spike gasped and fought his way to his hands and knees.

 

“Leave me alone, Pavayne!” he shouted. Spike’s eyes darted around and finally focused on Xander. “Oh, sorry,” he said, sat back on his heels, and rubbed a hand over his face.

 

“Some big bad after you?” Xander asked, not unkindly.

 

“Think of Jack the Ripper, Pinhead, and Dr. Crippen rolled into one.”

 

“Ugh.”

 

“Exactly.” Spike dropped his hand. “Sorry if I woke you.”

 

“No, I’d just woken up. What are you doing in my bed, anyway, Spike?”

 

“It’s a king-sized and you were only using a bit of it. ‘sides, that comfy chair is comfy for reading, but it’s too short for sleeping.” Xander just looked levelly up at him. “What? I wasn’t under the covers, even!”

 

Xander let the smile he’d been suppressing blossom. “I’m kidding you, Spike. I don’t mind.” Xander sat up and stretched. From the light around the window it was still early morning. “I’m going to shower. Now that my hair… now that I can use water that’s hot and almost completely free of mud and piss.”

 

“Yeah, California’s still up to it’s green, healthy ways. Don’t know why I stick around this state.” Spike flopped back down on the bed as Xander got up. “There’s food when you’re done. Willow made me bring it up,” he said into the pillow.

 

Xander glanced at the tray piled with little boxes of cereal, fruit and, apparently, muffins. He grinned and looked back to Spike. The vampire was now taking up the whole bed and had tossed the Xander-warmed blanket half over himself. “Puppy,” Xander thought.

 

The day before, Xander had stood almost unthinking and scrubbed his body over and over. He’d used a bar of soap and thrown away the ruined blue mesh sponge he’d used to scrape as much of Africa from his skin as he could. This time, he focused on his hair. He squinted at the cheery array of many colored bottles that lined the shelf along the shower and almost glowed in the stray sunbeams that filtered through trees outside and the frosted glass of the window. Who know hair care could be so beautiful? He picked one that claimed to be able to clean away any residue, poured a generous palmful, and stepped under the hot spray of water.

 

As he massaged his scalp and worked out knots and tangles, he thought. Last night Xander, one-time Zeppo and all around loser, had in front of Spike, one-time tormentor and sometimes Big Bad, cried like a child and Spike had not ridiculed him. In fact, Spike had held him and comforted him, then returned to his room and slept beside him. What did this all add up to?

 

Xander lathered, rinsed and repeated until his scalp was just short of bloody, and he had determined that what he’d sensed in Spike long ago was real. Spike’s soul was still in place, and his heart was sincere. When he finally turned off the water, he’d decided that the impulsive request he’d made to Spike the night before was real and true. He knew Spike was his anchor, and prayed the vampire knew it, too.

 

Xander came out of the bathroom an unmeasured time later.

 

What he saw stopped him dead in his tracks. Spike sat on the reclining couch, his long legs stretched out and one arm up on the back, with his head resting in his hand. In the other hand he held a paperback, angled so the sunlight pouring through the window shone fully on the open pages. Disinterestedly, Spike turned a page, not even looking up at the naked man gaping at him. “’bout time. The power company called, they want to know when they can open the locks and start generating power from the water supply again.”

 

Dumbfounded, Xander walked over to Spike and touched his sun-warmed hair. “How?..”

 

“Oi! You’re dripping on my book!” Spike ducked away from under Xander’s bulky form. Xander’s hand lingered in the very real sunbeam, then slowly fell.

 

“You’re human!”

 

“What? No! God forbid.”

 

“But…” Xander raised a hand and pressed it to Spike’s neck below his ear.

 

Spike sighed and rolled his eyes, but allowed Xander to feel his lack of pulse. “It’s called necro tinted glass. Something Wolfram & Hart worked up. I helped rescue a wealthy demon git and he repaid me with it. I don’t have a home, so Oz installed it here. Are you through pawing me, wild boy?”

 

Xander dropped his hand but didn’t quite blush. “That’s neat. That’s really neat.”

 

Spike grinned at his old companion. “Innit? Ready for brekkies? There’s juice in the fridge.”

 


Chapter 7

“Ready for brekkies? There’s juice in the fridge.”

 

“Boy, am I ever! Did I see Fruit Loops?” Xander knelt down and pulled a couple of bottles of juice and one of milk from the mini fridge.

 

Spike shook his head and followed Xander to the table. He sat back and watched, amused, as the man tore into a tiny brightly colored box and upended it. “Sugar…” he sighed. Xander ate for five minutes before he noticed Spike was just watching. “Aren’t you hungry?”

 

“I nipped down to my room for some O pos. while you drained half the state’s water supply.”

 

“Oh.” He ate half of a ripe banana and looked around the room for the first time with rested eye. He finished off the chocolate chip muffin, tore into a ripe, fresh apple, and picked up the book Spike had lain face-down on the table. On the cover, a muscular, long-haired man in a loin cloth is running to the rescue of a half-clothed woman who is being menaced by an ape. “Tarzan! You’re reading Tarzan? What’s that supposed to mean?”

 

Spike grinned and shrugged. “It’s a classic, and I’ve not read it in ages. Plus, well, being in the room with a naked, long-haired muscle man who eats with both hands does inspire,” he chuckled.

 

Xander looked sideways at him. “So what was with all the swishing on the ship?”

 

Spike sat up defensively. “Acting. And I’m damn good at it!”

 

Xander smirked. “Sure, you just let out what comes naturally.”

 

Spike glowered at him. “Bloody savage.”

 

“Poof!” Xander said with a puff of air to accent it, and grinned.

 

Spike tried to hold his glower, but just could not. He laughed and leaned back in his chair. “You are looking a little ragged.”

 

Xander fingered a waist-length lock that was now drying across his back. He shook his head and delighted in the lack of weight from the gems. Still, his look was extreme even for California. “I guess so.”

 

“I can trim your hair for you.”

 

“And he’s a hairdresser. What other secrets do you have? Did I miss your and Angel’s wedding?”

 

“No.”

 

Xander clapped his hands in delight. “So I didn’t miss it! Moonlight ceremony on the beach? Will anyone wear white?” he shrilled.

 

“Git,” Spike said fondly, happy to see the doughnut boy’s humor had somehow survived.

 

“Why would I let you, of all people, trim my hair?”

 

“I kept Drusilla looking beautiful for over a hundred years. And I do my own.”

 

“That explains so very much,” he said with a smile. “Yeah, that would be good, but if you give me a mullet, I will very personally kill you very slowly.”

 

“I don’t doubt that for an instant,” Spike said seriously. “When you’re done murdering breakfast, we’ll get to it.”

 

Xander ate until only crumbs and cereal packets were left. “I think I have an 8 o’clock appointment with Mr. Swishy?”

 

“Oh, yes, that was for the mullet and the bleaching, was it not?” Spike said in his German accent, pulling the comb and scissors out of his back pocket.

 

Spike laid out a spare bed sheet, and sat a chair on it facing the full-length mirror. Xander surprised him when he turned it so he was facing out of the window instead. Spike shrugged and starting combing out the mass of hair. “You know,” he said after a while, “you are such an interesting monster, and an interesting monster should have an interesting hairdo.”

 

“Burroughs and Bugs Bunny in one day. You’re one literate guy, Spike.”

 

“I read a lot.” Spike said absently as he worked out a knot.

 

Xander chewed on his lip before saying softly, “But I am a monster now, Spike. I know how to kill, and I’m damn good at it.”

 

Spike paused briefly. “Do you enjoy it?”

 

It was a minute before Xander responded. “Sometimes. When the cause is good, the enemy truly evil or…” he trailed off.

 

“Or the hunt is honest,” Spike finished.

 

“Yeah.” He allowed himself to relax again into Spike’s admittedly skilled touch. “That’s what my proposition is about, Spike. There’s so much I’ve done. So much I’ve seen, and what I’ve become… I want to talk. I want to let it all out. Anyone else and I’d horrify them, or… they’d pity me. I’ve not had anyone to talk to in... years.”

 

Again a reference to loosing someone. Spike combed his hair and let him have time to sort out his thoughts.

 

“I’ve done monstrous things and… I want to hire you, Spike.”

 

“I’m no goods at counseling, mate.”

 

“Bullshit. I saw you that summer taking care of Dawn. You held her together.”

 

“Only barely.” He picked up the scissors. “How long to you want it?”

 

“To the middle of my back, if you can make it look good.”

 

Spike fingered the now-flowing strands. He knew what a badge of honor the length was. Xander had earned every inch. “It’s beautiful, Xander, and the girls will say something, but I understand.” Xander nodded once. “If I put in a few layers… not a mullet… I can make you look less savage.”

 

“Do it.”

 

Spike begin to cut. After the first few hunks fell to the floor and Xander had relaxed again, Spike prompted him. “What’s it pay?”

 

“You saw the gems.”

 

“I mean, what will you pay me?”

 

“I meant to pay you, Spike, they’re all I have.”

 

“Sorry. Go on.”

 

“Where are they, anyway?” Xander asked, glancing at the dresser where the used spell components lay.

 

“In a safe in my room.”

 

“Good. If you act as my councilor, sparring partner, gem broker, and hairdresser,” Spike could hear the smile in that last, “I will give you your choice of two of the gems.”

 

Spike paused in his cutting. “Xander… you do know what they are worth, don’t you?”

 

“There’s a blue diamond in there that’s almost three carats. Will that one buy me six months?”

 

Spike came around to face Xander. “That’s too much.”

 

“Four months?”

 

Spike knelt and looked Xander in the eye. “Listen to me, whelp. I’ll be all those things for you. But you won’t be my boss, or my client, except where hair care is concerned, then I expect tips. I’m free to take other jobs on your approval, and we’ll renegotiate the contract after the year that gem will buy.”

 

Xander blinked. He’d not expected Spike to have thought out this whole thing better then he had. “Er... what’s the catch?”

 

“You’ll take my advise and listen to me if I tell you you’re doing something wrong, or there’s something you need to do. I’ve been alive a hell of a lot longer than you, and I’ve been in situations… bloody bad places. I’ve seen and done more than you’ll ever know.”

 

“In short, let you keep me from acting like the stubborn ass I once was?”

 

“Basically, yeah. If you want, Charlie Gunn will draw us up a contract, he’s right good with that.”

 

Xander looked into Spike’s honest eyes and saw again the spark within. “Maybe. Hey, wait. If you’re not my employee, and I’m not your client, why am I paying you?”

 

Spike grinned. “Because you feel you have to.” Spike returned to behind Xander.

 

“When did you get so clever, Spike?”

 

“Always have been. You were just too busy hating me to see it. Plus, it’s easier to pull things off when your enemy underestimates you.”

 

Xander blew a raspberry. “Right. Loan sharks after your ass, unrefrigerated demon eggs…”

 

Spike pulled Xander’s hair sharply. “Sorry, bit of a tangle.”

 

Spike worked in silence as Xander watched the very green trees swaying outside his window. The world had turned and the once-normal seemed alien. And the once alien… “Hey Spike?”

 

“What?”

 

“I didn’t always, you know,” Xander said softly.

 

“Didn’t always what? Have the ability to defend your own sorry ass? Know that.”

 

“Hate you.”

 

“Oh.” Spike just combed Xander’s hair and made a few last cuts.

 

“This is where you say you didn’t always hate me, Spike.”

 

“Why the bloody hell would I say that?”

 

“Sheesh, Spike. I thought you read a lot. It always happens in the books that two long-separated enemies get back together and, once they finally talk, realize they could have been close friends long ago.”

 

“I don’t read comic books, Spock.” Spike felt Xander slump just a little and knew he’d taken it too far. “But. And I’ll only say this once. I did and do respect you. The shit the Hellmouth flung at you, you took with a grin. And now… Christ. You’ve been put through hell for five fucking years, and you still can joke.” He put his hand on Xander’s shoulder. “You’re a hell of a man, Xander Harris. I admire you.”

 

“Thanks,” Xander whispered.

 

“Plus,” Spike perked up, “you look damn good, if I say so my self.”

 

Xander reached up and ran his rough hands through his hair. Spike watched it catch on the heavy iron still welded around his wrists. “Thanks! It feels great.”

 

“Aren’t you going to take a look?”

 

“Nah. I trust you. Now,” Xander said, as he stood up and shook his head like a dog. Bits of hair floated down through the sunlight to the sheet. “I’m going to wash off the itchy hair bits.”

 

Spike rolled his eyes. “Expect rolling blackouts. I’ll call the power company.”

 

He fully expected another long shower, but Xander was back out before Spike had finished cleaning up the hair cutting scene.

 

Xander crossed to the window and looked down at the neatly mown lawn.

 

“Are you trying to give one of the girls an eye full?”

 

“Huh? No.” He looked down at himself and gave a short laugh. “I’m so used to being naked. I don’t notice. Does it bother you?”

 

“Pfft. As if.” Spike continued to bundle the sheet as Xander watched him, his eye distant. Xander’s hand wandered to the pearl.

 

“Anthony was taller than you, maybe an inch taller than me.” Spike said nothing, but let Xander talk. “And he was skinny. Not like you’re skinny. You’re… lean. He looked like you could break him with one hand. But he was strong. God, he was strong. And he was as dark as you are pale. He liked to wear these bright robes like chieftains wore. He said it made him look bigger.”

 

A knock sounded at the door, and Spike inwardly cursed. “It’s Willow.” Xander dropped his reverie and headed for the door. “Xander, what was I just saying about nudity and the girls?”

 

“Oops. Just a second!” he called.

 

“Um, no hurry,” Willow’s uncertain voice said.

 

Xander grabbed up the purple pants and pulled them on. Spike picked up his book and retreated to the chair. Xander opened the door and ushered his friend inside. “Good morning, Mrs. Osborne!”

 

Willow giggled. “I hope I’m not intruding, but I wanted bring you your clothes. I washed them so they’re not as new and stiff. And I wanted to make sure you had everything you needed… Did you get enough to eat?”

 

“I did, and I may be a bit ill from it,” Xander said as he took the clothes.

 

“I know I am from watching,” Spike muttered.

 

“But, you enjoyed it, right?” Willow asked, very much the uncertain kid Xander loved long ago.

 

“Of course!”

 

Willow looked him over. “Oh! Your hair is shorter! And… it looks nice.”

 

“Spike cut it. I have this theory that he’s probably also good at interior decorating. His crypt looked nice there at the end, after all.”

 

“Hey!” Spike protested.

 

Willow noticed in the sheet that was now crumpled to one side. “Is that one of my good sheets?”

 

“I found it in the cupboard,” Spike said defensively.

 

“Spike! You should have asked! I’ve got old ones for such things,” she scolded as she picked it up, being careful to not spill the loose hair.

 

“Oh, Doc Savage here will buy you another.”

 

Xander crossed his arms, unknowingly striking a pose much like your typical pulp novel cover, and looked over at Spike. “Doc Savage was bald.”

 

“You could be, too, mister,” Spike growled.

 

Willow laughed. “At least you two are playing nicely.”

 

“Willow,” Xander said as he took the sheet from her and put it back on the floor. “Can you help me with something?”

 

She took his sudden mood change in stride. “Of course. Anything I can.”

 

“I should have asked, but last night, I cast a spell. It’s wasn’t polite…”

 

Willow laid a finger across his lips. “It’s allowed, Xander. I allowed it. I felt your cleansing spell last night, and it makes me happy you want to move on so soon. Whatever helps you heal.”

 

Xander wrapped his big arms around his tiny friend. Spike watched, amused as she flushed and fought down a wave of arousal. He couldn’t blame her. After all, she was being pressed to the romance novel cover version of the boy she’d been madly in love with for several years. Spike was sure the long soft hair draping her face didn’t help. “I love you, Willow,” he said and let her go.

 

“You, too, Xander. I love you, too.”

 

They grinned at each other until Spike blew a raspberry, “Should I leave the room, or can I stay and watch?”

 

“Spike!” Willow yelped, jumping back. “I’m not! We’re… I’m married!”

 

“And this isn’t one of your Tarzan novels I’m reading.”

 

Xander laughed as Willow turned beet red. “Ignore him, Wills. Look, ” Xander said, turning serious, “can you help with the clean up?” He pointed to the spell components. “and make sure the gems are clean? Spike has them.”

 

“Of course, Xander. Anything. You, oh evil vampire, get to bring down the breakfast tray.” She stuck her tongue out at an amused Spike and left, taking the components and hair-covered sheet with her.

 

Once she’d left, with a promise from Xander that he’d come down soon, Xander turned to Spike. “What was that about, Spike?”

 

“What?”

 

“The get-a-room remark?”

 

“You’ve got a room, I just offered to leave.”

 

Xander sat on the bed near Spike and looked down at his hands. “I’m a monster, Spike. I’ve been shaped and trained to kill. I’m so muscle bound… Why would anybody find that attractive?”

 

“Have you ever looked at the covers to romance novels?”

 

“Mom read them all the time.”

 

“That’s you, whelp. You could be the Fabio of the new millennia.”

 

“No. I don’t think that’s... that this is attractive.” He pointed to his own broad chest.

 

“Okay, then what is?” He couldn’t resist asking.

 

“Swimmers, bikers, athletes with clean, lean muscles.”

 

Spike wondered if Xander realized he’d just described him. More likely, he was thinking about his lost Anthony. He took a risk. “Skinny like?”

 

Xander looked up sharply at Spike, but found no mockery. Sadly, he let his eyes drop. So it was about the past. “Yeah. Weird, huh? I’ve got a skinny guy kink.”

 

“Not so very. I’ve found that big men often like littler, leaner… partners.” He waited a couple of beats to see if Xander knew where he was going. “Did ya see how stick figure Dru is? And why do you think Angelus allowed Drusilla to keep me?”

 

Xander had to allow his head to wrap around this before meeting Spike’s eyes. “You mean he…?”

 

“And I, and we, yeah. Only once, shortly after I was sired... But the rest of the time he loved to watch me with Drusilla. Angelus was all the time watching me… And I liked to watch him. Even when I wasn’t with Dru, I could feel his eyes on me, but the bastard wouldn’t touch me again. He just said he’d done it ta prove who was top dog, that he didn’t like ta fuck boys....Bastard. If he hadn’t ta been so uptight, we could’ve had some grand times. Why else would I hate him so much?”

 

Xander shook his head. “I never would have guessed that.”

 

“I called him poof often enough, didn’t I?”

 

Xander shrugged. “I mean about you.”

 

Spike steadily met his eye. “It’s all about the person, not the body. Now get dressed before Willow comes up to drag you out of here.”

 

Xander thought about having heard the same thing in two days from different people. He did not yet know what it meant.

 

In the living room, they encountered Midra and Gunn. She immediately rose to her feet and bowed to Xander. She made a sign of respect and spoke to him rapidly in her native dialect. Xander answered in the same tongue, then broke into English. “Thank you, Midra. I appreciate it. Now I’m just Xander, okay? I want to leave all that behind.”

 

“I understand. But also know that if you need anything of that land, speak to me. I know it’s hard to shake.”

 

“Thanks, I’ll keep that in mind.”

 

Xander cracked a patented crooked smile and hugged her.

 

After they left, Gunn cocked an eyebrow at his lover. “What was that about?”

 

“He is a strong, brave man, my love. In my culture you respect such things and do not let them go unremarked.”

 

“Oh,” Gunn said, trying to tamp down his unreasonable jealousy of the handsome, sound, strong man all the ladies were making over. He didn’t get far into his brood before his lap was filled with lean, spicy scented woman. His woman.

 

“You are a foolish man,” she said fondly and kissed his lips. “You should be glad the tribe has gained such a warrior. Our forces have been strengthened. And the pale one is strengthened by his being here, too.”

 

“Wha? Spike? What are you talking about?”

 

“He didn’t collect his money and run as he always does. He came back here and waited.”

 

Gunn drew back and looked up at Midra. “Spike and Xander are… nah. I mean, I know he stayed in Xander’s room…”

 

She smacked him playfully on the arm. “Your mind goes there far to easily. They have connections they made years ago. In Sunnydale. Since Angel pushed Spike away, he’s been without a focus, without grounding. For all his strengths, Spike needs a balance. A yen to his yang.”

 

“I just hope no one starts yenning for my yang.” Gunn muttered, playing up his implied role as homophobe when it really didn’t bother him in the least.

 

“I’m the only one here gets access to that,” Midra declared and pushed up off his lap. “Now stay out from under foot. I’ve got work to do.”

 


Chapter 8

Spike and Xander found the Osbornes in the kitchen.

 

 

 

Oz leaned back from the table, an empty plate in front of him. Xander smiled at his faded blue t-shirt that read “Never moon a werewolf.”

 

 

 

“Want a sandwich?” Willow asked. ”Or breakfast. I can do breakfast.”

 

 

 

Xander turned a chair around and straddled it. He looked around the cheery kitchen, noticing the witchy touches here and there with a small smile. “Eggs and bacon,” he finally said. “I would love buttery scrambled eggs and crispy bacon.”

 

 

 

“Give the man a slab ‘o suet to go with that,” Spike sneered as he joined them. “You’re going to be back to American paunch in no time, mate.”

 

 

 

Willow smacked Spike in the back of the head as she passed him on her way to the fridge. “Leave him alone. That’s an order.” She paused and kissed Xander’s head as Spike comically rubbed his injury and glowered. “He can have whatever he wants.”

 

 

 

Xander grinned at Spike like the favored child he was at the moment. “Then I want Seven of Nine in my bedroom tonight after dinner.”

 

 

 

“Sorry, dude,” Oz said. “No more ‘Star Trek’.”

 

 

 

“What?” Xander gaped, exaggerating.

 

 

 

“You missed most of ‘Enterprise,’ and for the first time in ages… no new ‘Star Trek.’”

 

 

 

“Damn.” Xander pillowed his head on his arms.

 

 

 

Gunn came in to see him like this. “What’s wrong?”

 

 

 

“Git’s in mourning over “Star Wars,” Spike said.

 

 

 

“Trek!” came a trio of corrections.

 

 

 

“What the bloody ever.”

 

 

 

Gunn sat and reached over a hand to rest it on Xander’s arm. “Don’t worry. We got all episodes in DVD, wide screen, surround sound splendor!”

 

 

 

“Don’t tell him that!” Willow squeaked. “I’ll never get to see him!”

 

 

 

Xander’s head popped up. “Don’t worry, Willow. You can join us. Now what about my eggs?”

 

 

 

After much laughter and talk over brunch, Xander stood and patted his full stomach. “That was the best breakfast ever, Wills!”

 

 

 

“Thank you.”

 

 

 

“It’s mighty quiet around here. Where’s Dawn?”

 

 

 

“She went out to spend the day with a friend. She tried to cancel, but I promised I’d convince you to give her some Xander time this evening. After all, One of the reasons she came to visit was to see Michael.”

 

 

 

“Oh? Who is this Michael guy?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“A very nice young man. He’s been thoroughly checked out by everyone.”

 

 

 

“Not by me. I’ll give her some time tonight. Right now, I need to be outdoors and maybe walk some of this off. Who will give me a tour?”

 

 

 

“I’m not in the mood to burst into flames,” Spike scoffed.

 

 

 

“I’ll show you,” Oz said, as he helped Willow clear the table.

 

 

 

“I need to go out to the forge and check on something, I’ll go that far with you,” Gunn said, as he got to his feet.

 

 

 

The two went out the back door, but Xander hung back to address Spike. “I want to spar soon. Is there a place?”

 

 

 

“Oz will show you. I need to go into town tonight for business, if that’s all right, not boss.”

 

 

 

“Of course it is.”

 

 

 

“How about tomorrow after lunch?”

 

 

 

“More necro tinted glass?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“Hardly. Go see. Get some sun.” He chewed his lip as he watched Xander join the other men.

 

 

 

Willow put down a plate and sat beside Spike. “Hey, Spike. How are you?”

 

 

 

“He’s fine,” Spike answered absently.

 

 

 

Willow put her hand on his where it rested on the table. “Spike. How. Are. You?”

 

 

 

He met her eyes levelly. They had connected in the past three years and an easy friendship was between them. “I’m good. I’m… It feels right, Red. He asked me to help him.” Spike chuckled. “Hired me, actually.” He put his other hand over hers. “But it feels good to have him back.”

 

 

 

She smiled broadly, which always made Spike feel warm. “Doesn’t it? The fellas will be a while. Let’s look to those gems.”

 

 

 

Outside, they came first to the converted barn. Xander gave a low whistle when he took in the large space filled with training equipment and a rack of practice weapons to one side. A single high window let in a beam of sun. Otherwise, the huge space was dim and cool. “This is sweet! It sure beats the hell out of the Magic box, huh, Oz?”

 

 

 

“There are showers and changing rooms over there. The girl’s is, of course, bigger.” Oz said.

 

 

 

Gunn lowered himself to a bench and watched with Oz as Xander picked up a staff and hefted it. Gracefully, he fell into a fighting crouch before flinging himself into a vigorous series of passes and strikes with the staff. After some five minutes, he stopped and bowed to his invisible opponent. He was startled out of his meditative reverie by Gunn clapping.

 

 

 

“Damn! That was fine! I can’t wait to see you beat the bleach bum up one side and down the other.”

 

 

 

Xander returned the staff to its place and crossed to them. “Bleach bum. I like that one. What other surprises are there?”

 

 

 

Oz pulled a key out of his pocket. “Toys.” He crossed to a locked door and opened it to reveal a twelve foot square room lined with racks of swords, axes, stakes, chains, crossbows, and everything imaginable a proper slayer could want to in her arsenal.

 

 

 

“I’m a gladiator in a weapon store,” Xander sighed. He went to the rack of swords and pulled a simple one out. He felt it’s balance and weight. “You’ve got some sweet toys, my friends.”

 

 

 

“Thank you,” Gunn said. “I take special orders, but I’m back logged for Christmas.”

 

 

 

Xander looked in wonder at the blade. “You made this?”

 

 

 

“That’s one of the better beaters. Let me show you my office next.”

 

 

 

Oz locked up behind them as Gunn led him to a smaller building in a clearing to one side. Xander could smell familiar scents of smoke and metal. “I thought you were a lawyer.”

 

 

 

“I got an evil upgrade from W & H. It cost me dearly and I hate it. Unless I can use it for the powers of good, I don’t. That last smack down left me gimpy, so I put my weapons knowledge to use and learned this.” Gunn waved Xander through the open door into a well appointed blacksmith’s shop.

 

 

 

“Sweet!” Xander said, peering at an ornate hilt hanging on a peg. He pushed away his memory of being taken into a much cruder blacksmith shop and the bands being welded onto his wrists. They’d been a part of him for five years now. He twisted one of them without realizing it.

 

 

 

“Um. Whenever you want… If you want, that is. I can take those off you.” Xander’s hand flew from the band as if it were still hot. Slowly, he lowered his eyes to his wrist.

 

 

 

“Can you? I don’t know if you can. They’re a part of me.”

 

 

 

“With Willow’s help, I can physically take them off. I’ve done it for others.”

 

 

 

Xander straightened and held out his clenched hands, palms up. “When?”

 

 

 

Gunn took Xander’s hands in his own. “It’ll be just after dark for the fire to be hot enough. How’s that?”

 

 

 

Xander turned his hands, opening them to clasp Gunn’s. “Please.”

 

 

 

Gunn grinned. “My pleasure. Hey Oz, lead the man on and I’ll start things cooking here.” Strangely, Xander was pretty sure he recognized Gunn whistling “Poor Wandering One” as he followed Oz.

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“Spike,” Willow said as she sat on his narrow bed and poked at the glistening pile of gems. “Does he know what he has here?”

 

 

 

“I’m pretty damn sure he does. More than what the bank would give is what they cost him.”

 

 

 

“Midra said they were prize jewels.”

 

 

 

“Each one of those is a life, Willow. A life Xander had to take to save his own.”

 

 

 

Tears begin to roll down her cheeks. “I want to get them, Spike. I want that king pin. They took my sweet Xander.”

 

 

 

Spike took the cloth with the gems on it from Willow and sat it aside. Gently, he wrapped his arms around her. “We will, pet. We will. Think of all the inside information we can get now. I’ll bet Xan can fill in all kinds of details. We’ll shut them down right proper.”

 

 

 

Willow cried herself out and pushed away. She pulled a tissue from its box and wiped at her eyes. “Let’s get done with these things.”

 

 

 

She determined that Xander had done a good job with the cleansing, even though three of the gems still contained inherent energy. She put eight gems aside to be sold as magical receptacles, and therefore as more valuable. “What about the pearl he wears?”

 

 

 

Spike had been thinking about it. When Xander had singled it out, he thought it was perhaps the stone someone would claim if they killed him. After hearing the litany of kills, he wondered if he’d had to kill his friend. “It belonged to someone close to him, Red. He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

Oz went on to show Xander a large garage. It held the van Xander had ridden in, a sleek black Jaguar, and a couple of domestic cars. Off to one side, a motorcycle lay in pieces. Xander wandered over and admired the clean lines of the classic Jag.

 

 

 

“That’s Spike’s,” Oz explained. “So is the bike.”

 

 

 

“It beats the hell out of his DeSoto, that’s for sure.”

 

 

 

“He managed to get it away from Wolfram and Hart before the big to-do went down. It’s got necro tinted windows like the one upstairs.”

 

 

 

“So he can drive in the daylight. Sweet.”

 

 

 

Oz lead him up a flight a stairs to the Slayer dorm which was the second story of the garage and could house up to twenty Slayers. “Isn’t that a bit much?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“No, we’ve had it full a couple of times. Plus, as part of the organization, it’s been used to house California disaster victims. People who have lost their homes to fire and flooding. Do you want to see the best view on the property?”

 

 

 

He led them down a pebbled path. A sign post stood some fifty feet from the trail head. The sign was broken on both ends and read “zeb.”

 

 

 

“Zeb? Who’s Zeb?” Xander asked, peering up the overgrown path.

 

 

 

“There’s a big gazebo up there. A tree fell on it before we bought the property and no one has taken the time to fix it up.”

 

 

 

“Is it sound?”

 

 

 

“Let’s go look.”

 

 

 

Xander pushed through the overgrowth and Oz followed. The gazebo was a big one, with enough room on the floor for a good number of couples to dance and a curved stairway up to a covered widow’s walk. The tree had been cleared away, but the damage in the roof was clear. There was rot here and there and it badly needed a coat of paint. Oz sat on a portion of the wide railing as Xander examined it.

 

 

 

Xander picked up a long splinter of wood, turned it over and over in his hands, and joined Oz. “This could be a really nice place,” he said, looking up at the high ceiling. “Could be a great place for shindigs.”

 

 

 

“Or hootenannies.” They both imagined the parties that had been and could be held there.

 

 

 

“If someone wants to take on the job,” Oz finally said.

 

 

 

Xander laughed. “I don’t know. I’ve made some book cases and helped some build buildings…” Xander shrugged and tossed the wood aside. “I never made it to community college like I planned.”

 

 

 

“Just think about it, Xander. There’s no way the council will let you be jobless. Besides, I’m groundskeeper. I can hire who I want. If I make you supervisor, you can hire who you need.”

 

 

 

Xander took a big breath and let it out. “Oz. I don’t know what to do now. I haven’t even thought about having a job, or being back in society. The government has to be told I’m back, don’t they? What all headaches will that cause?”

 

 

 

“We have one of the best lawyers black magic and money can create, Xander. Don’t worry about anything.”

 

 

 

“Gunn?’

 

 

 

“Yes. He doesn’t like to talk about it, but the upgrade to his skills directly cost him the life of one of his best friends.”

 

 

 

“Damn. No wonder he’d rather make swords.”

 

 

 

“He’ll get it all sorted out for you. In the mean time, you know you’re welcome at Chez Rosenberg for as long as you like, if not for always.”

 

 

 

“Always, Oz?” His one eye searched Oz’s face.

 

 

 

“Always. It’s one of the first things Willow said after she quit squealing and bouncing around the house with Dawn.”

 

 

 

“Always. I like that idea. Show me that view, my man.”

 

 

 

They followed the path as it continued to rise and walked in silence for a ways. Xander enjoyed the mild Californian sun and the fresh air. It felt like he’d been on that ship for months. He fought the urge to run.

 

 

 

“You can if you want to,” Oz said as if reading his thoughts.

 

 

 

“Can what?”

 

 

 

“Run. Hide. Explore the woods. Run to the sea and dive in.”

 

 

 

They exchanged a look in which one beast acknowledges another. “Where’s this view?”

 

 

 

“When ever the path forks, just keep to the left. You’ll know it. See you shortly.”

 

 

 

Oz thoughtfully watched his friend as he took off with his long hair flying behind him. He continued walking up the path at a steady pace, letting Xander have his freedom and space. The world felt more right now that the missing Scooby had been found. Willow had a bounce in her step he’d not seen in a long time, and the subtle changes in Spike bore watching.

 

 

 

Xander ran. He let all the energy he’d built up on the ship go. The cool, green life of the forest caressed him. The packed earth of the path felt alive under his feet. It was all so unlike forced runs across the baked earth of the African veldt. Here again were the bird calls, flowers, and scents of his childhood.

 

 

 

He ran until he turned a corner and found himself in a clearing on a high hilltop. He stood overlooking woods stretching out to older growth areas in the distance in one direction and sloping hills and eventually the curve of the ocean some five miles away. Xander promptly sat on the picnic table with his feet on the bench. He closed his eyes and felt the wind in his hair.

 

 

 

Oz joined him a little while later and sat on the table beside him. “This is cool. How much does the council own?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“Some hundred and fifty acres. It backs up to preserved lands, so we’ve got a big back yard.”

 

 

 

“Pretty sweet for moonlight runs, huh?” In the world he’d escaped, werewolves were considered less than men. When the full moon rose, the slavers would hold the equivalent of dog fights. Condemned humans were deliberately infected to continue the sport.

 

 

 

Oz grinned. “That it is, but more so in the winter. I worry about hikers.”

 

 

 

“I thought you… got control of it.”

 

 

 

Oz shrugged. “I do. But sometimes, it feels good to let it go.”

 

 

 

“I can understand that.”

 

 

 

“I’ve gone out for night runs with Spike. First time, we got in a tussle, but the wolf respects him now.”

 

 

 

“What do you do otherwise?’

 

 

 

“I’ll show you on the way back.”

 

 

 

That sat quietly together until Xander sighed. “Let’s head back before I give in to the urge to go to the ocean.”

 

 

 

“Dawn’s in town for another week. We are planning a beach picnic for her birthday.”

 

 

 

“Cool. Show me your set up.”

 

 

 

Oz lead him on a different path back and the downwards slope made the trip quick. Most of the way back, they come to a big clearing in the woods.

 

 

 

“Look at what I have.”

 

 

 

Xander eyed the fifty by a hundred foot heavily fenced enclosure before them. It rose twenty-five feet in the air. Inside were a couple of low trees, which were gouged with claw marks, and a platform over a low cinderblock building. It looked like nothing more than a wild cat cage at the zoo. Xander nodded his approval.

 

 

 

“Beats the hell out of the book cage,” Xander said.

 

 

 

“Yeah. No one has to take all the books out before I go in. Angel’s girlfriend Nina sometimes stays here. Not with me in there, of course…”

 

 

 

Xander well remembered the encounter Oz had with a lady werewolf that lead to Oz and Willow’s break up long ago. He changed the subject. “Is that clover?”

 

 

 

“Attracts rabbits.”

 

 

 

Xander couldn’t tell if Oz was completely joking or not. “Let’s go see what the guys are up to.”

 

 

 

+++++

 

 

 

 

They approached the house from the far side and Xander caught a glimpse of a pale figure in black in the window of his room. He smiled to think of the vampire waiting for him, and returned his attention to Oz when he pointed out the enclosed porch they were going into and the hot tub it contained.

 

 

 

“There was a hot springs in the cave,” Xander said. “Only the privileged got to use it.”

 

 

 

“We’ve got a few rules, but they’re posted. Willow walked in on Midra and Gunn one too many times.”

 

 

 

Spike slouched in his chair and flipped channels as if he’d not been waiting at the window three minutes before. Xander rested his massive arms on the chair back and leaned on them. “Anything good on?”

 

 

 

Spike didn’t even look at him, but he could smell the sweat and foreign poisons that were leeching out of his system. He needed to give this man as many sparring matches as he could stand. “Nah. Never is.”

 

 

 

“What shows did I miss in the last five years?”

 

 

 

“Nothing. It was almost all reality TV.”

 

 

 

“What the hell is that?”

 

 

 

“They put real people in real situations and film them. Make them eat bugs and stuff.”

 

 

 

“Ew.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, they’ve not come up with anything new. I’ve made plenty of people eat bugs in my day.”

 

 

 

“Some bugs aren’t too bad, but give me pizza any day.”

 

 

 

Spike inwardly winced at yet another cruelty revealed. No wonder the man wanted steak and eggs. “What do you think of the Ponerosa?”

 

 

 

“It’s a nice spread.” Xander came around and perched on the edge of the sofa. “Gunn is going to unband me later.”

 

 

 

Spike nodded, and kept his delight covered. “Charlie knows what he’s doing. When he took the bands off Midra she fell for him right then, to hear him tell it.”

 

 

 

Xander frowned at the antics of a beautiful woman in a swim suit rolling in a pig pen. “What are you doing in town?”

 

 

 

“Need to do some banking and pick up some odds and sods. Any requests?”

 

 

 

“I can’t think of anything,” Xander laughed dryly. “I remember nights I would lay awake and dream of a toothbrush and tooth paste, but I have so much wealth now…” he waved his hand at the surroundings.

 

 

 

“When you were there…”

 

 

 

Willow came in just then and Spike dropped his question. His curiosity would just have to wait. “Clean up, boys. It’s time for dinner soon.”

 

 

 

“By that I assume you mean me, Willow, as the vamp appears tidy for once.” Xander got to his feet.

 

 

 

“Oi! I’m clean. I don’t take three hour showers like some people, but I’m clean!”

 

 

 

“Then help me set the table.”

 

 

 

Dawn returned from her visit full of chatter and dominated the conversation with Xander for the duration of the meal. Spike was pleased to see Xander reconnecting with the youngest Summers girl. He slipped away without worry the minute it was dark enough.

 


Chapter 9

Spike returned to the quiet house just after two in the morning. He listened and located everyone sleeping in their beds but Dawn and Xander. With his arms loaded with packages he made his way quietly up the stairs. He could hear the television in Xander’s room long before he reached the door, but it was low enough it would bother no one in the house.

 

He stopped outside the door and peeked through the crack. Xander sat cross-legged at the foot of the bed. Dawn was stretched out beside him, face down in a pillow and very much asleep. Strangely, Xander’s hair was braided in many braids of varied sizes and styles. Spike noted the metal arm bands were gone and as he watched, Xander rubbed the pale area on one wrist. What made Spike smile was the way Xander was absently petting Dawn’s hair as if she were a cat. It was less than a minute before Xander’s eye flicked to him. With a distracted wave, Xander motioned Spike in and returned his attention to the movie.

 

Spike pushed the door open with his foot and moved to stand by Xander’s side of the bed. On the screen, Hellboy snagged a box of kittens while fighting off a snarling, multi-eyed, tentacled monster. Spike watched the movie with him for a few minutes until Hellboy saved the kittens and Xander paused it.

 

“Hey, Spike. That’s quite a haul.” He said softly.

 

“Yeah, and it’s getting’ heavy, thanks for offerin’ to help.” Spike let all the packages fall with a rattle and a clatter. Dawn pushed herself up with an “eep.”

 

“Nice, Spike. Being mean to little girls.”

 

“I am evil,” Spike said just as Dawn said “I’m not a little girl,” and punched Xander’s arm.

 

Xander pouted and slumped. Dawn rubbed her eyes and looked at the pile of bags. “Oh! Shopping! And you didn’t take me with.”

 

“This is boring stuff, Pet. Man things.” Spike hung his coat by the door and flung himself down on the bed. “I can’t take looking at those purple pants any more.”

 

“You never say anything when Charles wears them,” Dawn said as she craned her neck toward the bounty.

 

“They go better with his skin tone.”

 

“Boots off the bed, dead head.” Xander said and shoved at Spike’s crossed ankles. “Willow will hold me responsible.”

 

Dawn hopped off the bed, ran around it and started digging in the bags. She tossed her finds up on the bed. “T-shirt, t-shirt, jeans, shorts, undies. Hey! How did you know Xander’s a boxers man?”

 

“Lived with him before, didn’t I? How do you know?”

 

Dawn made a face. “Laundry duty.”

 

“Sitting right here!” Xander protested, but was ignored.

 

“Shaving cream, toothpaste…” She came up with a small white box. “What’s this?”

 

Spike snatched at away. “None of your business. Quit digging.”

 

“Eh. It’s just boring anyway.” Dawn stood and stretched.

 

“Like I told you.” Spike tucked the box away behind him.

 

“Want to finish the movie?” Xander asked.

 

“Nah. I think I’ll go to bed.” She gave Xander a big hug. “It was great to talk to you. I missed you,” she said softly into his hair.

 

“You too, Dawn. So very much. Good night.”

 

“Night, Niblet.” Spike said as she turned to leave.

 

“Night, Spike. You two behave. Don’t turn up the TV or I’ll hear you. I’m right under you, you know.”

 

“I’ll try to keep myself from jumping on the bed while I’m at it.” Spike said dryly.

 

She stuck out her tongue and left.

 

Xander looked thoughtfully at the vampire as he bent to unlace his boots. “Wot?”

 

Xander pointed at the pile of personal products. “These are all my brands. You remembered.”

 

Spike shrugged. “I mooched enough of them didn’t I? Only the cheapest for Mr. Harris.”

 

“No, not the cheapest. The best I could afford when I had money.”

 

“Wanted you to be comfortable. Feel at home.” He nodded toward the bathroom. “All the stuff in there was left by Angel or smells like flowers.”

 

“Angel’s stayed here?”

 

“Yeah. Ponce keeps a low profile these days. He’s got a werewolf of a girlfriend and has quit brooding quite so much now that he’s getting it regular.” Xander noticed the edge of bitterness in Spike's voice.

 

“Good for him, I guess..” Xander picked up a t-shirt and admired the soft fabric and dark blue color. “This is nice, Spike. I appreciate it.”

 

“Your money. I sold off a couple of the semi-precious stones to a jewelry maker I know. I… I didn’t think you should be forced out to the wide world of shopping until you wanted to go.”

 

“Thanks.” Xander put the products back in the bag and set it on the floor.

 

Spike settled back on the bed again. “This movie is better loud. Shoulda watched it in the theatre.”

 

“We were talking. She told me about her green hair, school, and this Michael guy. I look forward to meeting him.”

 

“He seems a nice enough fella.”

 

“She caught me up on the Summer’s slice of the world. She and Buffy.”

 

Spike nodded, picked up one of the t-shirts and started peeling the stickers off it. “Before you ask, we had it out a coupla years back. Buffy and me. We met up. Talked, shagged all night, broke some furniture, and parted on even terms.”

 

“Um. TMI, Spike.”

 

“Like you weren’t burning to know.”

 

Xander shrugged. “Yeah. I was. So you two can be in the same place without wanting to kill each other?”

 

“Or shag like mad.”

 

“Spike, please don’t say shag again.”

 

Spike chuckled. “Hit play, Whelp. I like this one. By the way, I like the new look.”

 

“Huh?” Xander hand flew to his hair. “Well, Willow was up here and we were talking about the foreign movie nights we’d have with Buffy. It was tradition to braid someone’s hair. Mine is longest, and I couldn’t say no to the girls.”

 

“It’s damn hard, innit?” Spike had allowed himself to be subjected to the same treatment, but damned if he’d own up to it.

 

Xander picked up the remote and settled against the headboard next to Spike. He hit play and started picking the tiny rubber bands out of a braid. It was not long before Spike had joined him in the unbraiding. They laughed at the movie and gave fighting advice to the heroes. By the time “Hellboy” was over, Xander’s hair was undone.

 

He turned off the TV. “What else did you get into tonight, Spike? It shouldn’t have taken you that long to shop.”

 

Spike looked him in the eye. “You want to know it all?”

 

“If you want to tell. I won’t pry.”

 

“I first went to the jeweler and sold the gems. Then I placed an order with her. I went hunting and fed. Then I went shopping. I had a few drinks, ate a blooming onion, danced with a pretty lady, then went to pick up my order.”

 

“That’s a full night.” Xander toyed with the pile of tiny bands.

 

“You aren’t going to ask what I ordered?”

 

“If I need to know, you’ll tell me.”

 

“Well, it’s for you.”

 

Xander perked up. “Something special for me?”

 

Spike fished the little white box out from behind him. “I don’t know if you’ll want them, but… here.”

 

Xander opened the box and took out two leather bracelets. They were a dark burgundy, as wide as the metal ones, and snapped closed. “Thanks.”

 

“I thought maybe, after wearing the metal so long, you may feel more comfortable with something on.”

 

Xander smiled at Spike. “Yeah. Yeah. These I can take off.”

 

“I hope the color is okay. It’s all she had on hand.”

 

“I like it. What are the symbols inside them?”

 

“They’re not enchanted, but Julia added the glyphs when I told her who it was for. We’ve been friends a long time and she knows some of what goes on.”

 

Xander opened a band and looked it over. “I don’t know all of these.”

 

“I don’t remember the order, but they’re family, freedom, health, and love. She said that goes on your right arm. The other one says safety, protection, power, and strength.”

 

Xander snapped one in place, then the other. “Thank you, Spike. I didn’t even think of something like this. I’d never tell the girls, but I have been noticing the absence of the bands.”

 

“Some of those we’ve rescued have torn fabric and wrapped their wrists.”

 

“Cool.” Xander felt suddenly uncomfortable. If anyone else had given him a present, he would have hugged them. “Um, that was a good movie.”

 

“It is. Wait until you see all of ‘The Lord of the Rings.’”

 

“So I’ve been told. Hey, do you still want to spar tomorrow?”

 

Spike stood up. “Wouldn’t miss it. Meet me in the barn at one.”

 

“It’s a date!”

 

Spike collected his coat and boots and left. Absently, Xander picked up the bag of clothes and went through it. He held them up and all looked to be the right size.

 

A bright yellow bag from a specialty store was tucked away in the bottom of one of the Wal-Mart bags. Curious, Xander opened it.

 

Out spilled a Hawaiian shirt so bright it made him blink. It had everything one could want in a garish pattern. Hula girls held sequined pineapples under palm trees beside blue woody station wagons with surf boards strapped to the top. Xander had to get Spike to take him shopping there.

 


Chapter 10

Xander woke up abruptly, at first uncertain where he was. Growing up, he had perfected the slow wake up and had even catalogued fifteen separate stages of lollygagging. Now the transition from the oblivion of sleep and lucid dreaming to reality was a sharp edge with none of the fine layers it once held. Africa was too dangerous and hot a place to lounge in bed of a morning, then the first week of captivity had driven away the already lessened ability to awaken slowly.

 

 

 

So he was suddenly awake and alone for the first time in years. There were no other captives or fighters nearby. There were no guards at the door. There was no bed warmer in his room. There was no Spike. The first one of these he looked for was Spike. Why? Xander rolled to his back and watched the ceiling fan turn. Far off in the house, he could hear a television babbling, and water running. Outside he heard birdsong and a lawn mower. He was alone, safe, and warm. It felt wonderful.

 

 

 

During his captivity, his only true escape had been in his own mind. He’d once read an article on controlling one’s dreams in one of the new age magazines Giles sold while he should have been looking for a demon in a dusty book. Through trail and error he had mastered it. Xander now closed his eyes and sifted through his night’s dreams. He had been dreaming of the vampire, trying to remember everything about Spike’s fighting style in preparation of today’s practice. He couldn’t wait to show the smug vamp what he now knew. That was it. His first of the morning thoughts had nothing to do with the comfort he’d gained from having Spike beside him the night before. Or had they? Xander sat up. So what if they had?

 

 

 

He glanced at the clock. He’d slept for almost seven hours, which was strange for him. In captivity, he’d only slept about five hours in a stretch at most. His body was probably giving him what he needed. Xander shrugged it off. At least he’d not slept through his sparring session with Spike.

 

 

 

He relieved himself and enjoyed a good minty tooth brushing. He took a minute and cleared off a shelf in the bathroom of all the random bottles and containers, putting them away in a cabinet. He lined up all the new things Spike had bought for him. The last thing he’d expected was for Spike to remember such trivial things. Maybe he felt he should earn some of what he was being paid.

 

 

 

Xander dressed in a pair of sweats and a t-shirt from the new clothes and made his way downstairs, taking a glace at the closed door to Spike’s room as he passed it. Surely the vamp was already up. He found no one until he came to the living room. Gunn sat on the edge of the couch and folding towels as he watched TV.

 

 

 

“Morning!” he said cheerily. “How are you today?”

 

 

 

“I’m good, thanks, Gunn. Where is everyone?”

 

 

 

“Let’s see. Oz is mowing the grass. Willow’s puttering in the herb garden. Dawn’s gone off with her fella again. I think Midra’s in the kitchen getting lunch ready.”

 

 

 

“Um, what about Spike?”

 

 

 

“I don’t know. He did tell me he’d be in the barn when you got your lazy ass up.” Gunn made air quotes around the last phrase.

 

 

 

“Thanks,” Xander said with a smile and turned to go.

 

 

 

“Xander?” Gunn’s voice was serious. He paused in his task with a blue towel in his hands.

 

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

 

“I need to talk to you soon, man. I mean, about what happened and where. The legal wheels need to turn.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “I know. Look. Let’s talk tonight. Let everyone know who wants to hear… I’m not telling it twice, okay?”

 

 

 

“Sure. Just when you’re ready.”

 

 

 

“I’ll be ready tonight.” Xander’s stomach had knotted, but he knew he had to eat something before meeting Spike. He glanced at a clock and it struck him as funny how time suddenly meant something again. In the caves where he’d lived, others pretty much kept the time; he moved when he was told to move, and ate when he felt hungry. Maybe he needed Spike to buy him a watch.

 

 

 

He went into the cheery kitchen. Midra was chopping celery on a cutting board. Out of the window he could see Oz pouring gasoline into the mower. “Good mornin’ Xander. I pray no evil spirits vexed your sleep?”

 

 

 

Xander had to smile at her use of the phrase most would think quaint. In Africa it was a real concern. “I called up dreams of Spike fighting to help me in sparring against him today.”

 

 

 

Midra nodded. “So none would dare come near your dream paths. That is good. Are you hungry? I’ll have lunch on the table in an hour.”

 

 

 

“I’m meeting him at one. Can I get something quick?”

 

 

 

“Poke your head in the pantry and help yourself.”

 

 

 

For a minute Xander could only take in the wealth of food stacked in neatly labeled, bright packages. Overwhelmed, he picked up a loaf of Wonder bread and just held it. After five minutes, Midra came to his rescue. Gently, she took the bread from him. “Sit down, I’ll make you a peanut butter, strawberry jam, and banana sandwich. Willow said that was one of your favorites.”

 

 

 

“That would be great. Sorry, Midra.”

 

 

 

“Don’t you be sorry about anything!” Midra scolded as she efficiently made his sandwich. “You’ve been through hell, and that gives you a golden ticket. Well, for a while anyway. When I got here, I gained twenty pounds and wanted to spend all my time out window shopping.”

 

 

 

Xander laughed. “Thanks. It’s… overwhelming. I’ve gone from sleeping with one eye half open and not being able to move about without tripping over a demon or chained chattel to being able to walk out of here clear to Mississippi if I wanted to.”

 

 

 

“Yes. It’s safe. That’s the nicest part.” Midra laid neatly sliced bananas on the bread.

 

 

 

Xander looked out the window at where Willow was showing Oz something in her basket. “… and my friends… all well.”

 

 

 

Midra sat the sandwich and a glass of milk before him. “All very well. Spike has never looked happier.”

 

 

 

“Mmmph?” Xander asked around a mouthful.

 

 

 

“Oh, yes. He’s got a twinkle in his eye not been there since Angel turned his back on him.” Midra went back to chopping celery.

 

 

 

“Anmel?”

 

 

 

“Great pretender tired of Spike trying to cheer him up and have some fun. He wants to deny what he is and play at being human. He won’t work out with Spike and has only helped us undercover twice. And those times were because Buffy guiltied him into it. He’s bought a big house, lives with his werelady, and does business on the internet. He could help our cause a great deal, but won’t.”

 

 

 

Xander thought over everything Giles had written him in that last year. “After all he did with bringing down Wolfram & Hart, shouldn’t he have his choice?”

 

 

 

“It’s not so much that,” Midra sighed, “as Spike is his kin, his only kin. He wants to ignore his past completely. From what I hear, it’s almost as bad as his brooding phase. And Angel’s a warrior, as much as he wants to deny it. One day, it’ll bite him in the ass.”

 

 

 

“Spike or his denial?”

 

 

 

Midra snorted. “Both. Spike’s got no connection to anybody. We’ve tried to make him welcome here, but he feels like an extra wheel.”

 

 

 

Xander chewed and swallowed another bite, considering. “What about Drusilla?”

 

 

 

“I don’t know, sweets. He’s never mentioned her. Now eat up, you’ve got a date at noon, yes?”

 

 

 

Xander found his way to the barn. “Spike?” he called as he stepped into the cool room. Getting no answer, he picked up a staff and fell into a warm up routine. As he moved and flexed, he kept an eye on the door, watching for Spike to run in under a blanket.

 

 

 

He was nearly finished with the routine when he was attacked.

 

 

 

Instantly, his training fed him information. His attacker was small, quick, strong. They rolled over and over. Humanoid, cold, probably vampire. Xander got a foot between them and kicked hard. His assailant flew off him and landed on his feet even as Xander flipped to his.

 

 

 

“Not bad, whelp,” Spike said as he dove at him again. Xander dropped and swept Spike’s feet out from under him. Spike rolled away as Xander brought the end of the pole down toward him.

 

 

 

“You’re late,” Xander said as Spike knocked the staff away and rolled to his feet.

 

 

 

“No,” Spike leapt and landed close to Xander, knocking the pole from his hands. “I’ve been here. You didn’t check out the building.”

 

 

 

Xander punched Spike, knocking him back a couple of steps. “Didn’t think I had to.”

 

 

 

Spike wiped the blood from his nose and licked it off his thumb. “Then that’s lesson one.”

 

 

 

They fell to fighting and didn’t notice when the others came in with their lunches to sit on the bleachers. It was a swift give and take, with each one testing the other. They pulled punches, but only just enough.

 

 

 

Spike recovered from a hard blow to the ribs and stood for a second rubbing them. Xander stood half crouched, not letting his attention waver from Spike. The man was a damn good fighter. Perhaps one of the best Spike had ever faced. If only Buffy had seen the potential in her friend long ago. Spike had thought about pointing it out to her, but she would never have listened.

 

 

 

“Giving up?” Xander growled.

 

 

 

“To you? Not hardly.” Spike leapt high in the air, twisting mid-flight. He had intended on landing behind Xander, but the man turned, spinning away, so Spike instead landed to face Xander as he grabbed Spike’s shirt.

 

 

 

“Vampires can fly. I know that one.” Xander picked Spike up by his shirt and threw him toward the one beam of sunlight that streamed in through the small high window. Spike snatched his hand out of it and knew Xander had aimed to miss.

 

 

 

Spike flipped to his feet and chuckled. “Had a vamp for a teacher? I have to pull out some really old tricks, then.”

 

 

 

Xander kept his attention on Spike. He tried to be ready for anything. Spike’s style was a collection of whatever worked and he knew the vampire fought as dirty as possible. He pushed down a pang of sorrow as he thought of his teacher’s style. It had a solid groundings in boxing and fencing.

 

 

 

Spike saw his opponent waver and leapt again. This time, he did not come down. He easily grabbed one of the rafters and pulled himself up on it.

 

 

 

“I thought bats went to roost at dawn!” Xander called from below him, even as he moved toward the weapons rack.

 

 

 

Spike stood lightly on the narrow beam, listening as Xander drew out one of the practice swords, then ran along it. He heard Xander move to stay below him. Then he suddenly doubled back. Moving as swiftly as he could, Spike leapt and landed just behind Xander. He wrapped an arm around Xander’s neck, but the man threw his weight backwards, toppling them both and landing on top of Spike. Had he needed his breath, Xander would have winded him.

 

 

 

As it was, Spike found his arm being twisted as Xander grabbed hold of it and rolled. He felt the shoulder joint pop, sending a brief jolt of pain through him. It was quickly followed by a kick to the ribs. He grabbed for the offending foot, but Xander was out of arm’s reach. He came to his feet with a snarl.

 

 

 

“You’ve gone all bumpy, that’s bad form, mister,” Xander taunted, holding his practice sword at the ready.

 

 

 

Spike didn’t answer, just shifted, sliding over to the weapons rack and taking out a sword for himself.

 

 

 

“My money’s on Xander,” Gunn said quietly to Midra.

 

 

 

“You think so? The boy’s got fire, but Spike’s got a decade on him.”

 

 

 

Gunn smiled and took his woman’s hand without looking away from the two circling men. “Looser gives the winner a full body massage.”

 

 

 

She pumped his hand once. “Done.”

 

 

 

Xander fell into the variation of the fencer’s ready pose he’d been taught. Spike held his weapon loose and ready in his left hand and circled Xander. He wondered if Spike realized he was still in vamp face. Xander feinted at him, a move Spike easily blocked.

 

 

 

He tried a few more things, deliberately letting his shoulder drop to leave a small opening. He let Spike try to get o his blind side. Finally, Spike took the opening. Xander parried and switched hands as he did so. He brought his sword up and around, blocking Spike’s attack and cutting through his jeans as he went.

 

 

 

Spike recovered and took a step back, eyeing Xander with even more respect. They circled and fought, testing one another. At one point Spike twisted and brought his sword dangerously close to Xander’s crotch. Xander leapt away and took up the stave he’d been warming up with. He held defensively, but when Spike shifted to compensate, Xander flipped it, making it come down point-first toward the right side of Spike’s chest. Spike brought his sword up and deflected it hard enough to shatter the stave and bend his sword.

 

 

 

They both stood still, dusty, bleeding, and breathing hard. Spike shook off the fangs and panted at Xander’s ready sword point. “Had enough, whelp?”

 

 

 

“You’re asking me?” The sweat dripped off him and for a minute Spike thought he saw a flicker of wildness in his eye. Then he dropped his sword point and pushed his hair off his forehead. “Yeah. I think I messed up your jeans bad enough.”

 

 

 

Spike frowned down at the slice in his jeans and the already healing cut underneath. “Yeah? Well your hair’s a right mess.”

 

 

 

Xander barked a coughing laugh. “Yeah, that’s the worst you did.”

 

 

 

“Broke a stave and bent a sword, too! Now I got to replace them!” Gunn called out. “You get o pay up soon, woman.”

 

 

 

Midra snorted. “Like I wouldn’t do that anyway.”

 

 

 

Xander looked over at the crowd on the benches and shook his head. He dropped all tension and held out his hand to Spike. “Shouldn’t we be getting a cut of the box office?”

 

 

 

Spike shook the sweaty hand to end the bout. “Naw. I tried that. One of their favorite pastimes is to watch a round of vampire-kick-the-Slayer.”

 

 

 

Xander rested his hands on his knees as sweat dripped form his face. Willow waved cheerfully at him and went back to eating chips. “What’s to stop the action from crashing down on them?”

 

 

 

“Willow’s magicked up a barrier.”

 

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

 

“Are you guys through throwing one another about?” Willow asked.

 

 

 

The two exchanged looks. “Sure. I need to cool down and I want Spike to show me one of the moves he pulled, but I think the main event is over,” Xander said.

 

 

 

“Then finish up and come in for ice cream. I got homemade chocolate!”

 

 

 

Gunn tossed Xander a bottle of water and joined them as the others gathered their litter. “That was some fighting, man. I’ve not seen anyone but Angel give Spike here that much of a run for his money. Well, maybe Illyria, but she was special.”

 

 

 

Xander saw Spike stiffen out of the corner of his eye. “He was going easy on me. I’m going to feel it later.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I try to keep up my moves, but it’s harder every year. Good show, guys!” Gunn hobbled after the others.

 

 

 

“Best finish up, mate,” Spike muttered, running a hand over his hair.

 

 

 

“Spike?”

 

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

 

“I don’t know exactly what happened between you and Angel, but I want you to know I’m glad you’re here.”

 

 

 

Spike squinted out into the bright sun. “I’m glad I can be here for you, too.”

 

 

 

Xander stripped off his shirt, went to a table and grabbed up a towel. He ran it over his face and torso as he drained the water. He shook out his arms and turned back to Spike to find him still staring at the sun. “What is it, Spike?”

 

 

 

Spike shook his head and blinked away the sunspots in his eyes. “Nothin’.”

 

 

 

“I want to add another stipulation to our contract.”

 

 

 

“What’s that, whelp?”

 

 

 

“You talk to me when you need to.”

 

 

 

“Fair enough.” Spike grinned. “Now what move so impressed you that you need a replay?”

 

 

 

+++++

 

 

 

They knocked around for another half hour before Xander declared himself hungry and called it quits.

 

 

 

“You’re a bloody good fighter now, whelp.”

 

 

 

“Thanks. I had a bloody good teacher.”

 

 

 

“Vampire?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, he was.” Xander hid his face by wiping off the sweat. He didn’t want to think about Anthony right now. His teacher and friend was too close. They had spent many hours together training and talking. Fighting with Spike had brought back those memories. “Where’s your blanket?” Xander asked as he headed for the door.

 

 

 

“On my bed,” Spike said as if explaining something to a child.

 

 

 

“Then how did you get here without going dusty?”

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “Oz is a poor tour guide. There’s tunnels, mate. They connect the house, the barn, and the garage.”

 

 

 

“Wow! That’s very cool. Bat caves.”

 

 

 

“You want a tour?”

 

 

 

Xander hesitated. “No thanks, Spike. I’ve seen enough tunnels to last me a life time. Maybe some rainy day.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Sorry, Xan.”

 

 

 

“Eh, forget about it. I’m trying to.” He hesitated. “Tonight after dinner I’m going to tell Gunn what he needs to know about my capture.”

 

 

 

“You want to go into it so soon, mate?” Spike tilted his head at his friend.

 

 

 

“Not really. But I’ve set myself on the rip off the band aid course of therapy and I’m sticking to it. Besides, Gunn has to do legal stuff. Oh God, I hope there’s not a media circus! Southern California man kept in chains. How tabloid is that!”

 

 

 

“Don’t worry about it. Keeping things hushed up is one of the things Gunn does best. Now go clean up so you don’t track dust in the lady’s clean house and I’ll see you inside.”

 


Chapter 11

While Xander knocked the dust off his clothes and washed his face in the changing rooms, Spike took to the tunnels, ran to the house and burst through the door into the kitchen. As he’d hoped, everyone was gathered around the table.

 

 

 

“Spike!” Willow fussed. “You’re all dusty.”

 

 

 

“I know, not important.” Spike put his hands flat on the table and looked at each one of them in turn. “I’m sure Gunn’s told you Xander’s telling the story of his capture tonight. If you can’t handle it, if you’re going to weep through the whole story, don’t be there.”

 

 

 

“But…” Willow started.

 

 

 

Spike stared her down with his ‘don’t think I won’t fuck you up if you do’ face. “Stay in the kitchen and bake comfort cookies or something. It’s going to be hard enough on him without a pity party. Tell Dawn when she gets in.” With that, he retreated back to the basement to clean himself up.

 

 

 

A few minutes later, a less dusty Xander came in to find a few spoons still in mid air. “Is there something wrong?”

 

 

 

“No. No,” Gunn covered. “Oz just realized he was supposed to set the Tivo for something.”

 

 

 

“Yeah,” Oz said, getting up. “I’ll go do that.”

 

 

 

Midra bustled up and sat a bowl of ice cream before him. “Do ya want nuts or sprinkles on that?”

 

 

 

Xander picked up his spoon and grinned. “What do you think?”

 

 

 

“Both and a dash of M&M’s.”

 

 

 

Xander turned to Gunn. “You’ve got a great lady here.”

 

 

 

“Don’t I know it.”

 

 

 

Spike made a more sedate entrance and settled in a chair. “I’m not even going to ask if you want any,” Midra told him.

 

 

 

Spike pulled a pout. “What did I do wrong now?”

 

 

 

“Don’t even try to make me look the villain in front of Xander. I just know very well you don’t like ice cream.”

 

 

 

“Spike!” Xander cried, exaggerating his shock. “You don’t like ice cream? Not even chocolate?”

 

 

 

Spike slouched, laced his fingers behind his head, and stretched his legs out. “Nah. I don’t like cold food. It just lays in there and takes forever to melt.”

 

 

 

“Ew!”

 

 

 

++++++++++

 

 

 

After the ice cream was eaten, Willow took Xander aside. “Giles e-mailed me. He wants you to call him, when you’re ready.”

 

 

 

“Giles,” Xander said with a smile. “It’s only now I see how much patience he had with all of us and how much he cared.”

 

 

 

“He still does care, Xander.” Willow put her hand on her old friend’s arm. “He also told me to ask you if you want your backpack.”

 

 

 

Xander startled. “My… backpack?” The few possessions Xander had were in that backpack. He’d figured it was looted from the hotel or lost when he turned up missing.

 

 

 

“The hotel sent it to him as your employer. His name and the headquarters address was listed as the emergency contact when you registered. Plus, I think he made a few threats.”

 

 

 

Xander paused. He’d started to rebuild a life after Sunnydale and had bought the bright blue pack in a camping store. It had acted as carry on during his trip to London, then to Africa. He’d carried that battered blue pack on all his adventures. As many nights in his early captivity he’d wished for the simple comforts offered by its contents, he couldn’t even remember what was in it now. He had left it behind the day he was kidnapped as he went to market because he was staying in a real hotel with real security and it would be nice to travel light for an outing.

 

 

 

“You don’t have to answer now, Xander,” Willow said softly, breaking into his thoughts.

 

 

 

“Yeah. I’d like it. And... tell him I’ll call him soon.”

 

 

 

The evening passed quickly with Xander taking a tour of Willow and Midra’s herb garden and another lively discussion of what movies and television shows he’d missed. Dawn returned home before dinner. Her contribution was to gather a stack of DVDs suitable for watching on the smaller TV without surround sound in his room.

 

 

 

During dinner, Spike could see the nervousness building around the edges of the group. Xander kept falling quiet, and Willow kept biting her lip and glancing at Xander. Dawn babbled about her day less than usual.

 

 

 

“So, Red,” Spike cut into one of her stares. She blinked and shifted her attention to Spike. “You and Bit going to make a batch of chocolate chip cookies like you’ve been promising?”

 

 

 

Willow looked over to Dawn who nodded.

 

 

 

“Can you put walnuts in them like you used to?” Xander asked, missing the subtext.

 

 

 

“Sure can!”

 

 

 

The rest of the meal passed in a better mood. As Midra and Dawn gathered the plates, Gunn stood up. “I’ll be in the den when you’re ready, Xander.”

 

 

 

Spike watched him nod and bring up a hand to bite on the side of a nail in on old familiar manner. It was going to be a bumpy night.

 

 

 

Xander went into the living room to find Gunn sitting in an armchair with a laptop on a tray table and a small tape recorder at the ready. “I need to get all the details right. I hope you don’t mind.”

 

 

 

“Of course not,” Xander shrugged and dropped onto the end of the couch closest to Gunn. “Tell me, do you charge by the hour?”

 

 

 

Gunn laughed. “Shit. You’re family. Don’t ask that again. ‘sides, this for the greater good now.”

 

 

 

Oz walked in as he was talking and sat on the other arm chair, followed by Spike who sat an open beer before Xander and sat down beside him. “Go ahead when you’re ready. The ladies inform me they’ll read the Cliff’s notes later.”

 

 

 

Xander was more glad than he realized that it was only him and the men. He took a swallow of the beer. “What do you want to know?”

 

 

 

Gunn tapped a few keys on his computer and switched on the recorder. “Eventually, everything you can tell us that will bring the mother fuckers down. Tonight, let’s focus on the details of your capture.” Gunn looked at the screen and read off a date and location he knew well. “You were first reported missing when you didn’t call in before your flight. Then you missed it.”

 

 

 

Xander took a deep breath and let it out. Spike heard his heart speed up as he remembered.

 

 

 

He felt good. He’d rounded up three Slayers this month, and he was headed home in two days. He had just shopped the last market before the rainy season hit and mailed off a package to home. Trinkets for everyone.

 

 

 

Not so long ago, he couldn’t imagine living anywhere without his collection of Babylon 5 collectors plates on the wall, his comics neatly in their bags, and a selection of T-shirts. After Sunnydale sank along with said collections, he rapidly adjusted to living out of a backpack. Hell, he’d had to buy the backpack. Now his dusty once-blue pack was more of a companion than anyone. After the last year of traveling around the inhospitable paths of the dark continent, he knew what possessions mattered; a good warm blanket, comfortable shoes, a bowl, a sharp knife, a floppy hat, and when lucky; a book to read.

 

 

 

“I went shopping and had just dropped off a package of gifts.”

 

 

 

“It arrived,” Oz said quietly. “I’ve been told about it.” Xander nodded at the odd comfort of this small event.

 

 

 

He smiled at the lady who had sold him a colorful scarf for Buffy earlier. The lady smiled back, waved a red scarf at him, and tried to sell him another one “in case he’d forgotten someone.” He shook his head and headed out of the market. He passed the last stall when it happened.

 

 

“One minute, everything was fine. Then there was panic. I don’t remember hearing any gunshots or an explosion.” He spoke like it was a theory he’d been trying to work out.

 

 

There was a sudden collective cry and the crowd surged around him. The air that had carried some atmosphere of celebration, abruptly turned sour and sharp with the tang of fear.

 

 

 

He tried to push his way to shelter, but the crowd carried him along like a flood-swollen river. Surprisingly, he found himself pushed into the scarf seller’s booth. When had he been turned around? He grabbed one of the poles and swung himself out of the pull of the crowd. He tripped over something in the booth and looked down to find the once-smiling seller lying on the ground. She still clutched the scarf she had waved at him. The red of it blended with the blood that ran from her head.

 

 

 

He crouched behind the flimsy shelter with her. He had no fear of the dead. At least this one he knew would not rise again. The poles rocked and swayed. After what seemed like hours, the flood of running feet stopped. He applied one of his best skills. He hid. Rules one and two for Hellmouth children. If you can, run, if you can’t, hide.

 

 

 

He heard the guttural sounds of demon speak before he saw them. He wasn’t sure of what kind they were, but didn’t look to find out. He heard screams and things being smashed all around him. Where were the police? What was going on here? He clutched the biggest piece of wood he could get his hands on and waited.

 

 

 

“There were just suddenly people running everywhere and shouting. Somehow I got turned around and was swept back into the market. I… I hid in a booth, but there were demons.”

 

 

 

When they finally found him, he swung the sharp end of the stick with all his might at the ugly, horned face that appeared over the edge of the ruined stall. Thick, black blood and watery fluid ran down his hand as he felt an eyeball give way under his attack. His stomach lurched at knowing what he’d done. The sense memories of it happening to him came back.

 

 

 

“Fyarl demons. I hurt one of them. Took out an eye,” Spike watched as Xander’s hand moved to cup his own empty socket.

 

 

 

The fyarl demon roared and knocked all barriers from between them. He tried to scramble away, but was grabbed before he could move. He was lifted in the air and felt himself flying toward another ruined stall. His last illogical thought was that at least it was a carpet seller’s booth to land in.

 

 

 

They hauled him out of the wreckage and two of them held his arms. They dragged him one street over to where a short figure in a fancy hooded robe stood over several other people who lay passed out or dead on the street. It waved its hand, said something, and Xander’s world went dark.

 

 

“They dragged me out. There was a short figure in a cloak. He said something and I was out.”

 

 

“We wondered if they used mages,” Gunn muttered.

 

 

 

“I saw someone die before they knocked me out,” Xander said sadly.

 

 

 

Spike dropped his hand to the couch, letting it land next to Xander’s leg to let him know he was there.

 

 

 

Gunn clicked a key. “We suspected you were taken in the riot. The timing was too good. That day five people died and at least twenty five went missing, including you.”

 

 

 

“When I came to, it was dark. I was in the back of an army troop truck with about fifteen other men. And I was wearing the bands.”

 

 

 

“It would take some mojo to keep you out that long, and while they put the arm bands on.” Gunn said.

 

 

 

“Yeah.” Xander twisted one of the leather bands, then abruptly unsnapped it. He rubbed his wrist and fiddled with the leather, turning it over and over.

 

 

 

“Do you know where they took you?”

 

 

 

“North. There was another period of unconsciousness, so I have no idea how far we went. I later learned we were in a mountain riddled with caves. One side exited into jungle, the other into desert.”

 

 

 

Gunn made notes. “Xander, can you tell me the names of anyone captured with you?”

 

 

 

Xander blinked, swallowed, and nodded. He spun the band faster and faster. “Buford Newton. White. He was a broker. Don’t know what happened to him. Marx. Skinny young guy. Jewish and proud of it. In college. Last seen in captivity in the… pleasure rooms. Jack Williams from Texas. Dead.” Spike picked up a throw pillow from the couch and put it in Xander’s hands. He clutched it without noting its arrival. “Sarah and her little boy Jason. Unknown.” Xander fell silent, clutching the pillow.

 

 

 

“Xander,” Gunn finally said softly, “we don’t have to do this now.”

 

 

 

“I want to. I know of others. Not the names of all of them but…” They could all see he was looking into the past and seeing things he did not want to again.

 

 

 

“I have some pictures of those missing. Do you want to look?”

 

 

 

Xander squeezed his eyes shut for a minute. He didn’t want to revisit his sins. He didn’t want to say aloud before his friends what he’d had to do.

 

 

 

“If it will help you,” came Oz’s soft voice. “Think of how it will help their families to have any news at all.”

 

 

 

Xander opened his eyes. “What if the news is they died at my hands in the arena?”

 

 

 

“Then they can mourn and move on.” Oz said, not flinching.

 

 

 

Spike shifted closer to Xander on the couch. He silently put a hand on the broad back and rubbed in circles, lending his support. Xander closed his eyes again. “Should I, Spike?”

 

 

 

“It will be cutting another link to that place. Any information you give us will weaken them until we can go in and rip their guts out.”

 

 

 

Xander sat up straighter and Spike stilled his hand but let it rest on his shoulder. “Show me. Show me everyone who’s vanished in Africa.”

 

 

 

Gunn brought up an image viewer and turned the screen so Xander could see it as he typed in the info.

 

 

 

“We’ll start with those who vanished when you did.” The first picture as of a young man grinning before the forbidden city in China.

 

 

 

“That’s Marx. As far as I know he’s still alive.” The next picture was of a sandy haired man standing at a grill wearing an apron and holding tongs. “I… He fought well. Last year we faced off in a death match.” The next picture was a middle aged African man. “I never saw him.” The next appeared to have been scanned from a Xeroxed flier. A broad shouldered man in a business suit sat at a desk. “Buford Newton. Bud. He’s a good fighter. He was sold off maybe two years ago. I don’t know where he is.”

 

 

 

Xander clutched the pillow as he went through the images of smiling people. All he could see was suffering and unhappiness. And in the case of three men, death at his own hands. They reached the last of the files and Gunn turned the computer away.

 

 

 

“Thank you,” he said softly. “You’ve been a big help.”

 

 

 

Xander abruptly stood, towering over Gunn and almost knocking over the lap table. “A big help? How? By... by killing them?” Xander threw down the pillow and ran for the door.

 

 

 

“Xander, wait!” Gunn called after him.

 

 

 

“Don’t wait up, and save us some cookies,” Spike said as he ran after the big man.

 

 

 

He caught up with Xander on the porch, where he stood with arms locked leaning on the railing. “I’m a murderer, Spike,” he muttered.

 

 

 

Spike crossed his arms and leaned against a pillar. “So tell me, what would have happened if you hadn’t killed them?”

 

 

 

“Death.”

 

 

 

“For you?”

 

 

 

“And them. The first time they put me in a death match, I threw my weapon aside and refused to make the killing blow. I had been told what would happen, but I’d never seen it before. I’d never been allowed to watch a death match session. They… they took the guy. He was a little shorter than me, built like a foot ball player. They made an event out of it. All evening he hung in the ring and the victors would take a stab at him or... or a bite. They used magic to keep him alive until I made the blow and ended it for him. They made it clear that next time it would me hung up there.”

 

 

 

“So it was all self preservation? Every time you killed?”

 

 

 

“In the ring, yeah.”

 

 

 

Spike let that comment go for the moment. “Then you’re not a murderer.” He pushed off the pillar and strode down the steps. “You said you wanted to see the ocean? Come on.” Spike started walking down the driveway in the darkness, his long legs eating ground. He listened and was gratified when he heard Xander coming up behind him at a trot. Spike lengthened his own stride and Xander was soon running after him. He let him catch up as they turned onto the public road. Xander didn’t even look at him, just watched his own feet move. “It’s two miles straight ahead,” Spike said. “I’ll see you there.” Spike dropped to a walk and watched as Xander started to run harder.

 

 

 

Xander let his rage and grief surface and shoved the energy into his legs. He felt the hard asphalt of the road still warm under his feet as he pumped his legs. Tears blurred his eye, but the road was straight. Somehow, he knew Spike was not far behind and it comforted him. Memories of the dead and the still captive swam in his head, now mixed with happy vacation snaps. By the time the hard road melted into sand and a short flight of stairs climbed a dune, his breath burned in his lungs and sweat covered his body.

 

 

 

He stopped and breathed deep of the salty air as the moonlit ocean lapped at his feet. His breathing evened out and Spike strolled up beside him as if he’d happened to run into him while shopping. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

 


Chapter 12

Xander stopped and breathed deep of the salty air as the moonlit ocean lapped at his feet. His breathing evened out and Spike strolled up beside him as if he’d happened to run into him while shopping. “Come on, I’ll buy you a drink.”

 

Xander shook his head in fondness at Spike’s casual acceptance and followed the vampire. Spike patted a picnic bench on the porch of a closed bar and grill. Xander sat and Spike went around to the front of the building. Xander was puzzled until he heard the jingle of change and the whir-thump of a vending machine.

 

“You carry change?” Xander asked as he took the icy bottle of water Spike held out.

 

“Collect calls are a bitch.”

 

“Why not just mug the machine, Mr. Big Bad?” Xander called up an old joke.

 

“Why bother? Besides, I know the couple who own the place. Nice folks.”

 

Spike sat in silent companionship beside Xander as he drank. They watched the ocean play with a child’s sand bucket, pushing it up and down the beach. Finally Xander sighed. “I was so damn scared that day, Spike.”

 

“Riots are horrible, I know. The Boxer Rebellion is a good example. ‘Course at the time it was all fun to me.”

 

“Not helping Spike.”

 

“Sorry, mate. Bit ‘o my bad humor. But, yeah. Seen riots and mobs. Humans in a collective bad mood are worse than most vamps I know. Want to talk abut it?”

 

Xander took another big drink. “There was a lady in a stall who I had just talked to and bought a scarf from. She was smart and funny and a good salesman. It was her booth I hid in. She was dead when I jumped in there, and still holding the scarf she’d tried to sell me. Yet all I could think about was keeping myself alive.”

 

Spike had seen thousands of corpses in his existence and well knew the stark contract of life and death. “The madness of crowds.” Spike quoted, lacking anything else to say.

 

“What’s that?”

 

“A book I read when human. ‘Extraordinary Popular Delusions & the Madness of Crowds.’ It’s all about how people go daft when acting in mass.”

 

“When I was a kid, I was playing in the waves and one caught me wrong. It tumbled me and flipped me underwater. I had sand in my shorts and my hair. It was like that. The riot. I was trapped in a big power I couldn’t fight, moving me and shoving me. It was years before I’d go more than waist deep in the ocean, and I don’t like crowds any more.”

 

“I don’t either. Used ta love them. No better place to grab a bit of blood or dosh. Did you know I was at Woodstock?”

 

Xander shook his head. “It looks miserable from the pictures.”

 

“Nah. There was an energy there, a passionate feeling.” Spike waved his hands as if trying to capture an elusive feeling with words, then let them drop back on his knees. “Bugger that, we were all stoned to the gills.”

 

Xander chuckled. “Why don’t you like crowds any more?”

 

“Too many people, pushing, making noise… And I’ve got this soul now, don’t I? Takes the fun out of it.”

 

Xander studied Spike’s sharp profile. “Do you regret it, Spike? Getting the soul?”

 

Spike took a deep breath and blew it out in a puff. “Once in a while. To be honest, yeah. Life is fun when you don’t have morals.”

 

“I watched some men give up their souls, Spike.”

 

“Fighters?”

 

“It’s like some of them were waiting to let go of civilization. They got a license to kill and enjoyed using it.”

 

Spike met Xander’s eye levelly. “The humans you killed. What about them?”

 

“The ones I faced in death matches? Two of them were evil, no doubts. Three, I never met. The first man. He had a soul, Spike. I could tell. He wasn’t one who fought for bloodlust. He was like me. It was his first time in the death ring and he was just trying to stay alive.” Spike could see the pain Xander carried. “And I had to kill him.”

 

“You’ve got yours firmly in place,” Spike observed.

 

“Do I, Spike?” he asked distantly, looking away.

 

Spike saw him drifting into self doubt; took hold of his shoulder, gripping it firmly in comfort. Xander turned to look at him. “Hell, yeah, you do. I don’t know how you did it, but you remain a good man, Xander.”

 

“I have killed, lied and stolen… Even used enslaved people for sex.”

 

Spike’s features hardened. “Did you kill for fun? For sport?” Xander shook his head, a little horrified at the thought. “Did you only lie and steal out of need?” Xander nodded. “The people you fucked, did you abuse them or take them roughly? Leave bruises and blood?” Xander shook his head violently. “No. I bet you were gentle and said thank you every time.” He pushed Xander’s shoulder away, dismissing the notion that Xander was in any way evil. “No. You were and are a damn good man, Xander Harris. The fact you’re agonizing over it proves it. The people in that house know this, too.”

 

Xander nodded, knowing it was true. “I… know more that will help the cause.”

“Let it out as you need to mate. There’s no hurry.”

“Yes there is! Those people. I never knew most of their names. They were… Left handed man who fought well with a staff, or Sarah who liked having her hair brushed, or… Man who gave up while fighting so I had to kill him.” Xander dropped his head. “Seeing their faces like that…”

“I’m going to have a word with Charlie about springing that on you.” Spike said with steel in his words. ”It was hard. But think about it. Now their people will know. Questions will be answered. It’s better to be able to lay someone to rest than to wait with the faint hope year after year that they will turn up. ‘Cause in that time you just know they’re being kept from you, imprisoned. Otherwise, they’d come home.”

Xander looked at Spike who was now clutching is hands tightly together, and wondering at the determination in his voice. “You know this, don’t you?’ Xander ventured. Spike nodded. “Who?” Spike shook his head and stared out to sea. “Tell me?” Xander coaxed.

Spike looked back to Xander and saw the true caring and concern there. He had not talked about this in years. One time he’d shared with Buffy after her father missed another family birthday, but Spike knew now she’d not listened. She had not cared about him, only herself. “My father. He was a merchant. When I was twelve he went to Egypt and never came back.”

“I’m sorry.” Xander had never heard Spike speak about his past, and the Watcher’s journals knew very little.

Spike didn’t notice the softening of his accent and the properness of his speech. “Back then, communication was slow. It would be months and months between letters and we had no way of getting letters to him. The last one was on linen paper from a fancy hotel and he had put in a scrap of papyrus with a few glyphs on it. It was magical to me. He said he’d found a contact who could supply fine fabrics and that he’d start working his way back to England with the shipment. He said he would arrive in the spring. We never heard another word from him.”

Xander put his hand on Spike’s back, mirroring Spike earlier gesture. “That’s rough. Did you contact the company he worked for?”

Spike scoffed. “Company? He worked for himself. I had an uncle who tried to investigate it, but the best lead he ever got was a report from the hotel who claimed he left without paying his bill and demanded payment from Uncle. My mum and I were left alone. We had money, but only just enough.” Spike thought of the pains of being less than upper class and being scorned for having only one servant. “Once in a while, we’d reread the letters he’d sent us.”

“Oh.” Xander patted Spike’s back and let his hand drop.

Spike shook off his gloom. “So it’s good to know.”

Xander’s eyes narrowed and he chewed on the side of a nail. “My dad is dead. It just struck me. My dad is dead.”

“I heard about that.” Spike braced himself for a melt down.

“I… I can’t be too sad. Is that bad of me, Spike?”

Spike shrugged. “I don’t think so. I know you weren’t close.”

“No. We weren’t. They packed up and left Sunnydale without telling me where they’d gone. It was just because I called Aunt Susie that I found out they were safely away and where they were. I… I talked to Mom once after the Hellmouth closed and all she could talk about was collecting insurance and buying new furniture. She didn’t even ask where I was.”

“Sorry to hear that.”

“I… I think I let go of them right then. I always knew Dad’s drinking would be the death of him somehow.”

“But you know for sure and that makes a big difference,” Spike said.

“It does. I see that.” Xander looked again for the bucket and found it rocking in the surf.

“After I was vamped, we went to Egypt. Drusilla wanted to eat an archeologist or some damn fool thing. Even though my pop would have been an old, old man if he were alive, I still found myself watching for him.” Spike laughed. “We did got he the hotel where he last stayed and created some merry mayhem with the staff.”

He noticed Xander didn’t join in his joke.

“There’ll be a trial, Spike. The men I killed. They’ll want to know why and how. I’ll be sent to jail and I can never spend another day in a cell.”

Spike snorted. “Horse shit.” Xander turned a surprised eye to him. “Gunn is a legal god. Wolfram and Hart opened his brain and poured in every nuance of the law. He will take care of everything.”

“He’s got my confession on tape!”

“I’d bet good money the information is being transcribed and the tape blanked as we speak.”

“But shouldn’t I, Spike? Shouldn’t I pay for my sins?”

“Sounds to me like you have been. And don’t expect your friends to judge you. We all have our evils, our regrets. Remember Willow and Warren? Giles and Ben? They love you, Xander, never doubt that.”

“Wow. We really do have a high body count between us.” Xander absently drained the bottle and started twisting the cap on and off as he looked at it from this angle. “I did try to do any good I could. When I could. Fortunately, my... owner was a bit more fair than others.” Spike noticed him fingering the pearl around his neck.

“I don’t doubt that, white hat.”

Xander barked a laugh. “I’d think about that. When I was alone and had no one to talk to, I’d pretend we were all sitting around the table in the library or Magic Box and I’d look at whatever was bothering me from all sides. It’s a wonder I didn’t go multiple personality.”

“That work for you?”

"Uh huh. At first I’d ask myself ‘what would Buffy do?’ then realized the answer was often that she’d call a Scooby meeting.” Xander warmed to his theory and switched to rolling the bottle between his palms and occasionally waving it for emphasis. “Not everyone was at every meeting. It would change.”

“Why was that?”

“Not every problem’s the same, is it? Giles was always the voice of reason. I’d look at the facts I was given and try to remember anything I might know that would help. Willow would be the comforter and the one to make me look out for myself. Buffy would help me be merciless when I had to. Oz would help me stay calm.” Xander suddenly became aware of how much he was revealing and blushed.

Spike gave him an arched brow and smiled. “You were lucky to have such friends.”

“Yeah.” Xander scowled at the bottle he was playing with and tossed it in a neat arch into a trash can. “You were there too, sometimes,” he said quietly.

“Yeah? What use did you have of a Big Bad in that brain of yours?”

Xander looked at the beach and was disappointed to find the bucket half buried in the sand and unable to dance about. “When I was fighting, or learning to fight, I’d try to remember your style.”

“Like you could ever have style like mine,” Spike play scoffed.

“No. I could never fight like a vampire. But you do have confidence, Spike. You lead with your bluster and balls and I admire that.”

Spike tilted his head and met Xander’s steady gaze. He had always acted like everyone should admire him, but found himself surprised and very flattered when he learned someone really did. “Really, Xander?”

“Really.” Xander looked away, ducking his head. “And some nights when I was alone… I would imagine we were watching TV or you were tied to the chair nearby and snarking at me.”

“Like me tied to the chair, did you?”

“It was a way to explain why you weren’t…” Xander trailed off, catching that he'd almost remarked about wanting Spike in his bed, and regretting he didn’t have the bottle to fiddle with.

Spike wanted to snark and tease, say something about joining him in bed, but held back. “Why I wasn’t making noise in the kitchen and keeping you awake?”

“Yeah… Like you’d do to annoy me.”

They sat quietly together, watching the surf as the moon rose higher. Finally Xander sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face. “Thank you, Spike. you’ve put things in perspective.”

Spike shrugged. “Just doing my job.”

Xander searched out the bucket and could only see the handle flipping back and forth in the tide. “I love the ocean. I can control my dreams, did you now that?”

“Really?”

“Yeah. I learned how to keep sane. I like to dream I can breathe under water. I love to dive deep and look up at the sunlight shining through the water. I love how the water feels rushing over my naked body as I swim.”

“Oh, yeah. That rocks.”

“You’ve dreamed that?”

“Done it, Mate. Only without the sunlight.”

“Oh.” They sat and listened to the ocean pound for a while. “Damn.”

“What?”

“I’m jealous of a vampire.”

“Hey, there’s a lot to be jealous of.”

“I know, long life, strength, blah, blah.”

“I mean, in me there’s a lot to be jealous of. Everyone wants to be the Spike.”

Xander snickered. “Yeah, right.”

“’s true!”

Xander smiled and it turned into a yawn. “Can we go back and see if Gunn left us any cookies?”

 

“Sure.”

 

Xander hopped off the table and instead of heading to the road as Spike expected, he went down to the beach. He dug the kid’s bucket out of the sand, rinsed it off, and set it on the steps that climbed the dune.

 

Spike smiled at the big hearted man who even rescued toys.

 


Chapter 13

They were silent on the walk home. Spike easily kept up with the ground-eating pace Xander set. Occasionally, the man would kick a rock that the moon highlighted on the smooth road.

 

 

 

When they reached the porch, Spike pulled a key from his pocket. “We need to get you one made,” he said as he unlocked the door.

 

 

 

Xander stopped him from opening the door with a hand on his arm. “Spike. Do you want…” He dropped his hand. “Never mind.”

 

 

 

“What, Xander?”

 

 

 

“I’m… still a bit wired. Would you want to watch some TV with me?”

 

 

 

“There’s nothing on this late, but Nibblet picked out some good shows.”

 

 

 

“Yeah? Like what?” Xander was surprised how relieved he felt.

 

 

 

Spike opened the door and ushered Xander in. “Did you ever see ‘Firefly?’”

 

 

 

They parted ways at the second floor landing so Xander could clean up and Spike change out of his jeans into his lounging pants. When he stepped out into the hall, the door to Willow’s room opened, and she poked her head out.

 

 

 

“Spike?” she asked quietly.

 

 

 

“Yeah, Red. It’s me.” He crossed to where she stood in the open door, clutching her bath robe closed. Spike could smell the musk of sex that mingled her scent with her husband’s.

 

 

 

“I heard some of what he said… How is he?” she asked quietly.

 

 

 

“He’ll heal. He went through a lot of shit that would have destroyed a lesser man. I’m still not sure how he remained unbroken.”

 

 

 

“Okay. You need anything?”

 

 

 

“Not now. We need to make him his own key.”

 

 

 

“Of course. I’ll do it tomorrow. Thanks, Spike. Good night.”

 

 

 

“Night, Red.”

 

 

 

Spike let himself into Xander’s room and found Xander standing nude in the middle of the room, toweling off his hair. Spike’s eye was drawn to a silvered scar high on the inside of his left thigh next to where his furred balls hung.

 

 

 

“See something you like?” Xander asked, peeking out from under his towel.

 

 

 

Spike shrugged and turned his attention to the stack of DVD’s by the television. “Here’s the show.” Spike put aside the thought of a bite scar there and what it might mean.

 

 

 

Xander paused. What was Spike looking at? He glanced down and saw the scar he tried not to think about. A pang went through him. “Spike,” Xander said close beside his friend. “It was…”

 

 

 

“Something you’ll tell me about if and when you want to.”

 

 

 

“Yeah… sometime. So, what’s so special about this show?”

 

 

 

They spent a pleasant couple of hours watching the crew of Serenity until Xander nodded off. Spike watched the grimaces that flickered across Xander’s features as he slept with sadness. Long ago in the basement of doom the boy had more often smiled in his sleep. Quietly, he pulled the blanket up to cover him and turned off the show before leaving the room.

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

Xander awoke abruptly and to the same feeling of loss. This time, he knew what he sought. He thought he had asked Spike to stay, but he guessed the vampire had no interest. He dressed and made his way downstairs.

 

 

 

“Good morning, Xander!” Midra cheerily greeting him in the kitchen.

 

 

 

“Morning. What’s up today?”

 

 

 

“Waffles if you want.”

 

 

 

“Waffles? Damn, it’s too bad Gunn met you first.”

 

 

 

Midra laughed. “We were meant to be. All the fates say so.”

 

 

 

“You’re very lucky, both of you.”

 

 

 

“I did a reading of the bones. You won’t be lonely for always,” Midra said as she poured waffle mix in a bowl.

 

 

 

Xander had learned a lot in his time in Africa and did not dismiss her words. “Really? What’s she look like?”

 

 

 

“Ah! You know they don’ work like that. Just keep your mind and eyes open.”

 

 

 

“Yes, Ma’am.”

 

 

 

“Don’t you disrespect me, boy!” She said with a smile.

 

 

 

Xander held up his hands in surrender. “Never. I swear.” He watched her deftly mix the batter. “It’s comforting. The thought there’s someone for me.”

 

 

 

“There is.”

 

 

 

“Where is everybody today?”

 

 

 

Dawn and Willow went to run errands. Oz went toward the city. Gunn’s in the office. I think Spike’s still in the garage.”

 

 

 

“In the garage?”

 

 

 

“He takes spells of working on that bike of his. He was out there when I went to get something from the car at dawn.”

 

 

 

Xander wolfed down the hot waffles and rewarded Midra with a quick hug. “Want me to help clean up?”

 

 

 

“You go do whatever calls you to do.” She smiled after him as he headed out he back door toward the garage.

 

 

 

Xander pushed open the garage door to the cool open area. Two of the cars were gone and the sound of a ratchet came from behind Spike’s car. Louis Armstrong played quietly on a radio. “Hello?”

 

 

 

“Over here.”

 

 

 

Spike sat on a milk crate bolting the frame together. Xander smirked at the normally tidy vampire who was now grease-smudged. “Nice bike.”

 

 

 

“Will be. You should have seen her when I got her. She was covered in rust and vines.” Spike patted a fender fondly.

 

 

 

“What is it? It’s old, isn’t it?”

 

 

 

“She’s a 1941 Indian Chief. I’ve had a bitch of a time finding some parts. Fortunately, Gunn is as wicked a blacksmith as he is a lawyer. He reproduced that fender beside you from looking at the rusted remains of the original and pictures off the net.”

 

 

 

“Sweet.” Xander pulled a crate up beside Spike’s and reached out to steady the part Spike was working on.

 

 

 

“Thanks, mate.”

 

 

 

Xander watched him work for a while, admiring Spike’s skillful touch. “Midra said you’ve been out here for a while.’

 

 

 

“After you went to sleep, I was still wired. When there’s no Slayers upstairs, I like to come out here and work. I don’t have to sleep much.”

 

 

 

Xander handed Spike a screwdriver when he pointed at it. “When I was first captive, sleeping was all I wanted to do.” Spike nodded, letting Xander tell his story as he wished. “Of course, that was a two edged sword.”

 

 

 

As he watched Spike work with tools and grease, he let his story continue to pour out:

 

 

 

The truck stopped at dusk and the short figure reappeared. Again, the world went dark.

 

 

 

He woke up an unknown time later. Slowly, he opened his eye and looked around. He was on the floor a cave and some thirty other people were crammed in with him. “You’re awake. That’s something,” came a voice from beside him.

 

 

 

“Yeah,” Xander slowly sat up and looked at the woman who held a little boy on her lap. “Something. How long have I been out?”

 

 

 

“I don’t know. We woke up in here, too. And we all have jewelry.” She held up her hands to display iron bands around each wrist.

 

 

 

Xander wore a matching pair. “Damn. Slavers.”

 

 

 

“I’m Sarah. This is my boy, Jason.”

 

 

 

“Xander Harris.”

 

 

 

No one knew anything about where they were or how they’d come to be there. Everyone had a similar story to his. Capture, then awakening in the cave with wrist bands. Their belongings and some of their clothing was gone, along with all shoes and jewelry.

 

 

 

After a couple of hours, a blue-skinned demon showed up and instructed them in poor English how to behave in order to get food. Of course there were those who protested and shouted at the demon. More than a few panicked, not believing what they saw. Damn it, he was hungry. Xander stood up, brushed off his hands and went to stand where he’d been instructed.

 

 

 

Finally, others fell in line behind him and calmed the rest. The demon met his eye and nodded sharply once. Xander knew he’d done right. They all got a bowl of questionable content. Xander gave it a sniff and determined it to be better than a lot of the things he’d had to eat in the last year. He found a corner to sit and eat. Nothing more happened, and eventually he curled up to sleep, accompanied by the sounds of crying and raging.

 

 

 

The next day after his capture, the demons came into the holding pen. He’d been doing his best to comfort the others and help tend the wounded. The iron bands around his wrists with chafed and hurt. His body ached from sleeping on the stone floor.

 

 

 

“The Fyarl demons came back. As much as I wanted it to be true, I knew none of them were a middle aged Watcher. They started separating the men from the women. I don’t know what came over me, but I had to step in when they went to take Jason from Sarah.”

 

 

 

Spike knew. He knew the white hat impulses in this man could not be squashed.

 

 

 

“Leave them alone!” Part of him knew he could not change things, but a bigger part couldn’t just let this happen. Xander shoved the demon who was pulling the screaming child’s arm. The beast turned to him and made a gurgling noise like he was about to spit. Xander remembered what he’d read about their hardening mucus and ducked out of the way. He was able to get another good kick in before a second one grabbed his arms. He found himself pulled aside along with three big men.

 

 

 

“Big bullies!” Xander taunted. “Can’t fight me fair and square!”

 

 

 

“What are you doing? Shut up!” The man in a once-nice business suit told him.

 

 

 

“Unless you got a silver dagger, I’ve got nothing to fight with but words.”

 

 

 

“You know what these things are?”

 

 

 

“Fyarl demons. Silver kills them.”

 

 

 

“Fat lot of good that does us.”

 

 

 

“Tell me about it.”

 

 

 

He and three other healthy looking men were taken into a little room and left alone for several hours. Xander demanded they all turn out their pockets and searched for anything that might help them escape. Apart from a roll of Tums, a rubber band, and a five dollar bill, they had been picked clean. If he had been Spock he could have made a phaser beam and saved them. Xander set to examining the bars and the bands instead. This place had been there many years, and he could find no clear flaw, but he looked over and over the joins.

 

 

 

“Give up! You’re driving me nuts!” The man in a Budweiser t-shirt said after a while.

 

 

 

“Nope. Not gonna. I’ve been in tough situations before. True, Buffy always bailed me out, and sometimes Willow. Well, once it was Spike, but anyway, I’m alive, I’m not giving up.” He watched others from the main cell being dragged past, screaming. At least two came back being carried. They were pale, limp, and bleeding from their necks.

 

 

 

“They got a vampire here somewhere, guys.”

 

 

 

“What the hell do you know?” Budweiser got to his feet and loomed over Xander.

 

 

 

“I grew up with them. Get any kind of wood through their heart, set them on fire, or decapitate them and they’re dead.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, right. And If I clap real loud a fairy will get his wings!”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “Then you explain that.”

 

 

 

A third woman was carried past, her lulling neck torn open.

 

 

 

Budweiser blanched and sat back down.

 

 

 

One by one Xander’s forced companions were taken from the cell. Only Mr. Budweiser was seen again. As he was led past, the big man turned wide eyes to Xander. “God damnit, you were right,” he muttered.

 

 

 

Then it was Xander’s turn. He stood and stepped out as the green demon came for him. “Right. My turn at an interview. So what’s the big boss like? What’s his favorite sport?” The demon snarled at him in a manner that clearly translated as “shut up.” “Golf, huh?”

 

 

 

He was taken down a long rough tunnel and to a heavy door set in the stone. The goon leading him knocked once before opening the door and shoving him in.

 

 

 

Xander gained his balance and looked around as the door closed behind him. The stone walls were covered with a bright mix of cloth hangings and tapestries. The floor was layered with rugs. It appeared to be an attempt to make the room warm, but instead Xander felt he’d been eaten by a giant who had been chewing on bits of string. The only furnishings were a heavy table with a padded chair by it near the door and a massive carved chair that could only be a throne. There were a few books, papers, and a cup of writing implements on the table.

 

 

 

Xander looked wearily around. As nice as the carpet felt to his feet and as inviting as the chair was, he remained standing. There was no way he was here alone. “Hello? You placed an ad for a doughnut boy?”

 

 

 

If he hadn’t been expecting it, the sudden appearance of his host would have startled him. Xander stood steady and looked over the man before him. He was much taller than Xander, maybe by four inches. His skin was so dark as to reflect back the lamp light. His hair hung in heavy dreadlocks to his waist and jewels winked in the length. He wore the bright red, heavily detailed robes of a chief. His brown eyes were intelligent.

 

 

 

Xander nodded to himself. This had to be the vampire. “I’m afraid I’ve misplaced my resume. Maybe I can get my staff to fax one over,” he quipped.

 

 

 

“What need would I have of seeing the resume of a… doughnut boy?” His voice was as deep and rich as the colors in his robes. He spoke in clear, clipped English that reminded him of Giles.

 

 

 

“It’s not just doughnuts, you see. I can serve beer, deliver pizzas.” He pointed and winked. “And I once made a fair amount of money dancing, but we won’t speak of that.”

 

 

 

Xander tried to read the man before him but it was impossible. What the hell. He was probably going to be killed soon anyway. He screwed his most winning grin in place and waited.

 

 

 

Just when he was readying a new line of quippage, the man spoke. “You are not as afraid as others.”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “I’ve been around, seen a lot.”

 

 

 

“But not this!” Suddenly the man was in game face and had raised his arms to make himself look even taller.

 

 

 

Xander grabbed up a pencil from the cup. “Actually, I have. And that ‘make myself look big’ stuff only works with kittens.”

 

 

 

The vampire hesitated, and Xander pressed on. “Yeah , that’s right, I know all about vampires! I’ve had William the Bloody do my laundry and Angelus buy me a beer!”

 

++++

 

“I never did your laundry.” Spike cut into his story.

 

 

 

“It was bluster, Spike. There was no getting out of there anyway.”

 

 

 

“And it was Angel bought you a beer, not Angelus.” As much as Spike admired Xander’s strength in his story, he couldn’t let these slights pass. He saw some of the growing tension drop from Xander’s shoulders and considered his interruption a success.

 

 

 

“Anyway…”

 

++++

 

The vampire scoffed. “What do you know of the Scourge of Europe?”

 

 

 

“Plenty. Angel’s hair sticks up and Spike likes cereal in his blood.”

 

 

 

The creature’s arms dropped. “Spike? The warrior who won his soul?”

 

 

 

“Oh yeah. That Spike. The Big Bad himself. Doing my laundry.”

 

++++

 

“He’d heard of me?” Spike searched his mind for who this mysterious vamp could be.

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “You’re quite respected down there. Legend really. You’re the only demon to win back his soul and survive longer than a week afterwards in over two hundred years. Not that many made it out of the cave, even.”

 

 

 

“You’re shitting me!" Spike couldn't believe it. A legend? For something other than bloodshed? Amazing.

 

 

 

“Spike, let me tell the story.”

 

++++

 

The vampire’s features smoothed back to human. “Have a seat.”

 

 

 

“What? I drop names and suddenly I’m in the in crowd?”

 

 

 

“There have been rumors about the fall of the Scourge. I wonder if perhaps you do know something.”

 

++++

 

“Fall! Bloody never did! I’m still…”

 

“Spike!” Xander glared at the repeated interruption.

 


Chapter 14

Spike interrupted Xander’s tale. “Fall! Bloody never did! I’m still…”

 

 

 

“Spike!” Xander glared at the repeated interruption.

 

 

 

Spike held up his hands in surrender and let Xander tell his tale. Truth be told, he was mad at himself for interrupting now that he was getting the information he’d been wanting. If he read all the signs right, this vampire was Xander’s Anthony.

 

++++

 

 

 

Xander eyed the tall vampire and weighed his options, which were to make the vampire mad by saying no or to have a seat and maybe learn something. Maybe this guy could get him free, though Xander doubted that.

 

 

 

“What’s in it for me? You drain me of information then drain me of blood?”

 

 

 

“Food? Drink? You entertain me, human. That’s hard to do these days.”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. He’d played Zeppo for worse reasons than to save his life. While he wanted to leave that behind, it was a useful persona to keep around. Besides, he really was hungry.

 

 

 

++++

 

“So he had food brought in and we talked for hours.”

 

 

 

“Talked? About what?”

 

 

 

“America. California. How I knew about vampires. The Slayer. Stuff like that.”

 

 

 

Spike realized he’d been leaning forward, eager to hear Xander’s story, and made himself lean back. “Oh. Of course.”

 

 

 

Xander laughed. “And about you. Nothing bad.” Spike gave him a doubtful look. “Really. He was keen to know about your soul and I told him about your sacrifice to save the world.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Well then.” Spike found himself glad to learn the boy had not thought bad of him for some time. “What happened after that? He obviously didn’t eat you.”

 

 

 

“He called a guard, said some things to him, and I was taken to a cell by myself with a cot and a blanket. I slept very well that night.”

 

 

 

“Huh.” Spike was dying to know more, but didn’t dare push. He picked up a tattered box and started taking out pieces of the motor.

 

 

 

Time passed as they worked quietly on the bike, with Spike laying out the parts and Xander handing him tools. “My training started the next day. To fight. There was a huge natural cavern where the floor had been leveled and lights installed. There was a big sandy area and several smaller rings. Basically, they would shove two of us captives in a ring and watch to see who had better skills. I got pretty beat up the first few times until I managed to convince the other men we needed to work together.”

 

 

 

“Survival of the fittest approach? That never works except in death matches.”

 

 

 

“I know,” Xander said quietly.

 

 

 

“Peaches got drawn into one of those in L.A. once. I wish I could have watched…”

 

 

 

“Angel’s a good fighter. I realize how good now.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, he is.” Spike bit down a pang of loss as he remembered what it was like to fight along side of Angelus.

 

 

 

“So we’d train one another. There were ten of us.” Spike took mental notes of the names Xander listed and their descriptions. “We were never allowed to talk or socialize. We’d fight, then we’d be separated. I came to realize I was getting special treatment.”

 

 

 

“How’s that?”

 

 

 

“I had a cell to myself, the rest of them had a dorm type room. They asked me why and I had no clue. Actually, I didn’t find it all that special. After I got used to the constant echoes of people crying and screaming, the chill of the cave, the lack of baths, the crappy food, and the exhaustion of training, I was damned lonely and bored.”

 

 

 

Spike nodded. He knew isolation and boredom. Memories of being locked away for a month and barely fed by Angelus, and his weeks at the Initiative, bubbled to the top.

 

 

 

“I was lucky. The more things I saw, Spike, the luckier I knew I was.” Spike nodded, cleaning an already clean valve. “Some people were used as human ponies. They had to pull the feeding and cleaning carts around. Some were kept as pets. Once in a while I saw the fat cat who ran the place, or so I assumed he was.”

 

 

 

Spike looked up from his work. “What’s he look like?”

 

 

 

“He’s a big man, dark skinned, large nose, goatee. He had a gold ring with a stone in it on every finger. And he has a tattoo of some kind of glyph on the side of his neck. He always had a pretty woman on a leash with him.” Xander’s voice was hard. “Each one had bruises.”

 

 

 

With a start, Spike realized he’d seen this man once on the ship. At the time he’d assumed he was another buyer. “That’s good news, Xander. I’ve seen that pompous ass. This means he travels on that ship once in a while and we can get to him.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded, his face grim. “Good. I want a piece of him.”

 

 

 

“Every scrap of information brings us one step closer.”

 

 

 

Spike fitted a piston into the body of the motor and tested its movement. Xander slowly clicked a ratchet wrench around and around. Normally, Spike would have taken it from him or snapped to stop the annoying sound, but he let Xander be. Spike noticed Xander seemed to cope better when he had something to fiddle with.

 

 

 

Xander finally broke the silence. “Days were pretty routine. Sleep, eat, train, sit. Every eight days they’d take me to a cavern with a hot springs and hole high in the ceiling. I could wash and stand in the sun for a while.” Xander sighed. “I was about to go mad.”

 

 

 

“No one to talk to,” Spike sympathized.

 

 

 

“That is a favorite thing of theirs, not allowing talking among the prisoners. After maybe four months of being trained, they brought a woman to my cell. I guess they liked how I was progressing. I… held her. Spike, it was so good to just have non-violent contact with someone.” Xander blushed. “She wanted to do more… and I didn’t stop her.”

 

 

 

“Xander, there’s nothing wrong with that. Besides, it may have gotten her in trouble if you hadn’t.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “So I learned later. But I did get her in trouble. I started to talk to her. To babble like I do. She pushed out of bed and kept shaking her head no. I didn’t understand. I just wanted to... talk to somebody.” Xander dropped the wrench and put his face in his hands. “The guard came and dragged her out of there. ‘No talking!’ he said and hit her. Hard. I don’t know why they didn’t hurt me. I was the one talking.”

 

 

 

“You were more valuable. And I bet you learned the lesson.”

 

 

 

“I did. God, I did.” Xander straightened, picked up a pickle jar of nuts, and started running his fingers through it. “For maybe a month my routine didn’t change. Sleep, eat, train, sit. Then it suddenly did. It was Bud who first noticed Anthony watching us.”

 

 

 

“Anthony?”

 

 

 

“The vampire I’d met. Everyone was terrified of him. There were… balconies over the arena. Once in a while I’d see people, demons up there, but after a while I stopped looking. When Bud pointed him out, he stepped out of the shadow and looked me straight in the eye before leaving the balcony. The next day, I found myself alone in the ring. Then the vampire joined me.”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

The tall vampire appeared at the edge of the area with two Fyarl demons flanking him. Xander gripped his dull-ended pike and met his gaze levelly. Without a word, the vampire nodded, untied his belt and let his flowing red caftan fall. He picked up a matching pike as he stepped into the ring.

 

 

 

“What’s this? I thought auditions were last week.” Xander taunted.

 

 

 

The vampire said nothing, but paused ten feet in front of Xander and bowed.

 

 

 

“No need to be formal,” Xander muttered, but returned the bow. Fortunately, he’d seen enough martial arts movies to expect the attack that immediately followed.

 

 

 

He brought his staff up and blocked the blow. He let the vampire feel him out before making a move of his own. His opponent easily jumped aside of the jab at his chest, but did so with a twist of a smile. Five more minutes of feints and attacks and Xander’s mystery guest backed off and bowed again. Wearily, Xander did the same and allowed himself to relax a bit to match the vampire’s stance.

 

 

 

“You fight with enthusiasm, human,” he said in his clipped English.

 

 

 

“Thanks. It comes from not wanting to be killed. I’ve found that to be a good motto to live by.”

 

 

 

The vampire chuckled. “I, too, have found that a good idea. I invite you to my quarters this evening.”

 

 

 

“Let me check my schedule.” Xander looked upwards for a second. “8 o’clock; eat slop. 8:30 to 9:00: stare at empty bowl. Yeah. I can fit you in.”

 

 

 

“Good. You will be sent for. And I will see if I can do better than… slop.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

Xander stood up and stretched. He wandered over to the sleek sports car and ran a hand over it’s curved fender. “You’ll have to take me for a ride some time.”

 

 

 

“Sure, sure. Anytime.”

 

 

 

“Hey! It’s Dawn’s birthday next week. I need to go shopping.”

 

 

 

“Xander! What happened?”

 

 

 

“Humm?” Xander asked as if he didn’t know why Spike had been polishing the same clean piece for twenty minutes.

 

 

 

“With the meeting!”

 

 

 

“Oh, that.” Xander poked his head in the car’s window and looked at the dashboard. “Will you let me drive? Of course, I’ve not driven anything in five or six years. I’d be better off starting in something slower.”

 

 

 

“Xander! The story?”

 

 

 

“Well, I was sent for. I had a very good meal. We talked about what I’d seen in my travels, American food, and he asked about my family.”

 

 

 

“Did he offer you a fine cigar and a glass of wine after that?” Spike asked, feeling Xander’s story was anti-climatic.

 

 

 

“No, even more dramatic.”

 

 

 

Spike’s eyes narrowed. “He didn’t hit on you did he?”

 

 

 

Xander laughed at the surprisingly warm rush he got at the glimpse of jealousy from Spike. “No. Not that night. He requested to me allow him to personally train me.”

 

 

 

“Train… For the games?”

 

 

 

“Yeah.” Xander swallowed. “He told me his position was such he was allowed to… keep a human or two. He’d not had one in a while and said that if I could learn enough to keep myself alive I’d live in reasonable comfort.”

 

++++

 

 

 

“Wait. Me? The Zeppo fight for my life? Mister, I can barely keep from tripping over myself most mornings.”

 

 

 

“You have told me yourself you fought by the Slayer’s side. You have watched the Scourge in action. You have…what word did you use… dusted many of my kind and faced a myriad of demons.” Xander started to protest, wondering how deep he’d gotten himself. “The war wound you bear speaks of your courage. And you lasted a year in the roughest parts of Africa with no ill befalling you until your capture.”

 

 

 

“It’s all true to some degree, yeah.” Xander tiredly rubbed the scar over his empty eye socket.

 

 

 

The vampire steepled his long fingered hands with their scarred prominent knuckles before him. “Consider the alternative, Xander.”

 

 

 

“Wha… what is it?”

 

 

 

“I throw you back into the pool of captives and you fight your own way up, or die in the trying. The luxury you enjoy of a cell to yourself is by my request.”

 

 

 

Tthanks.” Xander bit his lip and toyed with an apple core. Really, this guy didn’t seem so bad. He was intelligent and well placed. “Um…”

 

 

 

“What?” the vampire asked, amused.

 

 

 

“When Spike would talk of keeping a human, he always sneered and implied it was normally for… um….”

 

 

 

“Sexual reasons?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. That.”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

Spike burst out laughing. “The birds, maybe.”

 

 

 

“You said I was a nummy treat!”

 

 

 

“To eat! If I said anything else it was to watch you squirm.”

 

 

 

Xander sighed and rolled his eyes. “Anyway.”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

“Am I that unbecoming?”

 

 

 

Xander couldn’t look at his host. Truth be told he was intrigued by his tall, lean build, strong features, and graceful way of moving. But he knew it was probably something all old vampires had in common. “No. It’s that… How old are you?”

 

 

 

“Seventy five man and vampire. I’ve been here forty years.”

 

 

 

“Oh, well. That’s respectable.”

 

 

 

“Too big an age difference?” he asked dryly with what Xander was coming to recognize as amusement.

 

 

 

“No. It’s just that I like women.”

 

 

 

“I see. Well, to put you off the hook, it would not be a requirement. However, being under my care would protect you from the attentions of others.”

 

 

 

“You put it that way…” Xander looked him in the eye, meeting the deep brown steadily with his own one good eye. “Yeah. I want to live. I’ll learn to fight and I’ll be what I need to be a winner. I want to someday get out of here and kill the son of a bitch who runs this place.”

 

 

 

The vampire laughed and leaned forward. “My dear human, how do you know I’m not the son of a bitch who runs this place?”

 

 

 

Xander froze, his blood running cold. “Um. You said you were allowed to keep a human?” he said tentatively, hoping to save his ass.

 

 

 

“I could have been lying.”

 

 

 

“Cause, yeah, vampires are evil and they do that.”

 

 

 

The vampire sighed. “Alas, I am not the son of a bitch who runs this place. If I were, my accommodations would be much more roomy than this.” Abruptly, he stood. “Is there any small boon I can grant you to show my good will?”

 

 

 

“Maybe… something to read?”

 

 

 

The vampire nodded and went to a chest that sat to one side. “Romance? Mystery? Adventure?”

 

 

 

Xander couldn’t help it and allowed himself to be drawn to the trove. A stack of well-worn paperbacks lay within. Most were modern. “Um… I’ve heard of Clive Cussler.”

 

 

 

The vampire picked up the silver paperback with a sunken ship on the cover and handed it to Xander. “I am allowed first choice of the…pickings.”

 

 

 

Xander looked for a full minute at the treasure before the meaning of the vampire’s words sunk in. “Pickings. From the captives’ belongings.” he said quietly.

 

 

 

“From the captives,” the vampire nodded. “Many of those who get first pick go for the gems and clothing. I like the books.”

 

 

 

Xander held the book respectfully, knowing it once belonged to a hapless traveler like himself. “Yeah. Thanks.”

 

 

 

The vampire closed the chest and stood. “I will have you escorted back to your bed. We will start training tomorrow.”

 

 

 

Xander sagged, not knowing exactly where life was taking him, and followed the vampire to the door. “Thanks.”

 

 

 

The vampire paused with his hand on the knob and looked over his shoulder. “Thank you, for tonight’s company if nothing else. I live a dull existence, Xander,” he said softly, then straightened. “Just remember, you are now my property.” He moved to open the door.

 

 

 

“Excuse me, who do I belong to?”

 

 

 

“Forgive my seldom-used manners. You are property of…” he spoke a series of clicks and glottal sounds Xander recognized as some African dialect. “Also known as Anthony, sired by Lord Markus DeAmeron.”

 

 

 

+++

 

“Xander, are you sure you said DeAmeron?”

 

 

 

“Positive.”

 

 

 

Spike gave a low whistle. “He was older than Angel by a bit. British aristocrat by all accounts. Your new pal is of royal blood.”

 

 

 

Xander hung his head. “Was, Spike. Was.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, mate.”

 

 

 

“It’s okay.” Xander ran a hand over his face. “Anyway, he kept his promise. Starting the next day he trained me. I was provided with some luxuries including more books to read and better food. I knew I had it lucky. Well, as lucky as a captive slave could be.”

 


Chapter 15

“I didn’t have much contact with the other men after that. Only when Anthony couldn’t train with me because of other business or if he wanted me to practice against a human. I forget why, but one day he took me with him as he went to their cell. Four men shared a cell and they didn’t have many luxuries.” Xander chewed the side of a nail. “They looked at me with hatred, Spike. I had done my best make things better when we worked together. It weighed on me.

 

 

 

“So after three months, I requested an audience with Anthony.”

 

 

 

“Didn’t you talk much?” Spike asked as he fiddled with the motor. “You seemed all chatty at first.”

 

 

 

“No. Up to that point we had just talked twice. He had me escorted to his quarters and fed me again.”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

Xander was uneasy being alone with this powerful vampire again, but the food looked too good to pass up. Once Anthony motioned for him to eat, he sat with steepled fingers and watched Xander eat with unmatched enthusiasm. Half way through the meal, he interrupted Xander’s happy food thoughts. “So, Xander. What is it you wish to speak to me about?”

 

 

 

“Oh,” Xander swallowed his mouthful and wiped his mouth. “Sorry. It’s just this is so much better than what I normally get.”

 

 

 

Anthony eyed the simple meal of fresh fruits, a slim cut of meat, and a heel of bread. “I do not pay attention to what the fighters eat.”

 

 

 

“That’s kind of my point. If I’m out of line, I’ll just take my banana and leave.” Xander picked up the fruit in question. “That is, if I’m allowed to take the banana.”

 

 

 

“I have no need of human food.”

 

 

 

Relieved, Xander sat the banana back on the tray and took a small bite of the meat. “I understand that. Angel never ate anything. Oddly enough, Spike did. He liked to put Wheetabix in his blood.” Seeing Anthony’s raised eyebrow, Xander cleared his throat. “So. To my point. We are in hell.” Xander paused to gauge the vampire’s reaction. When he only nodded, Xander continued. “We’ve all been kidnapped. Taken from family and friends. Put in holes in the ground and fed things the demons tending us apparently do not want. I know you may not care and I know you’re not the one in charge. I’ve figured out a bit how things flow around here, but maybe you can do something.”

 

 

 

“What have you figured out about ‘the flow’ around here?” Anthony asked.

 

 

 

Xander bit off some bread and spoke around it. “People come in, but they don’t all stay. I believe you see them all and determine who goes where.” Anthony nodded. “I think this is the clearing house. And you keep those you judge will have a fighting chance in the ring.”

 

 

 

Anthony nodded again. “You are very observant.”

 

 

“Thanks. And… I know you’ve provided a bit better for me. The zoo keepers are afraid of you, so they do what you say. Thanks for that. And the books. I appreciate what a privilege it is to be in a room by myself, but without the books you’ve loaned me, I’d be crazy by now.” Another nod and perhaps a quirk of a smile from Anthony. “So if the guys could have a little more consideration they - we may fight better. All hope of escape has been thrashed out of us after seeing someone slowly killed for trying.” Xander suppressed a shudder at the memory of seeing the vampire before him slowly disembowel a man who had made it to the surface with his bare hands. “Hey, heck of a technique you’ve got there.”

 

 

 

“You have nothing to fear from me, Xander.”

 

 

 

Xander met his gaze levelly. “Yes, I do. No disrespect, but I don’t know you from the devil. As soon as I stop amusing you or get badly hurt, you’re just as likely to eat me. I don’t know how many… other kinds of slaves are here, but you seem to have say over the fighters.”

 

 

 

“You are correct.”

 

 

 

“Make the keepers give us our due. Give us... I don’t know, warmer blankets. Food that isn’t half rotten some nights. Little things. If we can maybe earn them somehow.”

 

 

 

Anthony stared at the bold human who dare invade his personal space and demand things. And he felt something solid within him yield.

 

 

 

“What?” Xander said quietly, not daring to even eat.

 

 

 

“I am thinking about what you have said. You may finish your meal.”

 

 

 

“I don’t know if I can.”

 

 

 

Anthony dropped his hands to his lap and smiled. “Let me ease your mind and tell you I am not going to kill you for your presumptions.”

 

 

 

“Okay. Good then,” Xander said and went back to eating, still uneasy about the eyes upon him. When Anthony abruptly stood, he couldn’t help but tense.

 

 

 

The vampire paced away from him and stood gazing at a watercolor of the English country side that hung on one cloth draped wall. “I should thank you, Xander. You make me realize I’ve been in a rut for… I’m not sure how long. I will look into what you say.”

 

 

 

“Thank you,” Xander said, feeling some optimism for the first time in months. He ate the coveted unbruised, ripe banana last. He was starting to worry about his host when he finally turned away from the landscape and sat again in the throne-like chair.

 

 

 

“You may wonder why I am here.” Xander cautiously nodded. “I was captured almost half a century ago. I cannot leave because I have been cursed; linked to this place. Any time I approach any of the exits I find myself back here. In this room.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“Damn,” Spike said. “That’s an evil curse.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, it would be,” Xander replied.

 

 

 

“When I was a ghost I could go as for as the L.A. city limits and I’d find myself right back in the Wolfram & Hart building. I couldn’t touch, taste, feel, smell or run away. I can’t image having to be underground for that long.”

 

 

 

“Wow. I didn’t know you were a ghost.”

 

 

 

“I’ll tell you about it some time” Spike waved away Xander’s attention. “What did he say?”

 

 

 

+++++

 

 

 

“I have a position here which you have rather accurately summed up. I’m the one who chooses the showers or the gas. Left or right. Life or death. I rebelled at first, then they cursed me. I had no reason to struggle. You are the first being to sit and talk to me in far too long. You are correct in all you say. I will do what I can for those around me.”

 

 

 

Xander just stared at the vampire for so long he stood and approached him.

 

 

 

“Sorry!” Xander said. “I… I didn’t expect an answer that quick.”

 

 

 

“Were you hoping to negotiate over more meals?”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged and played with his napkin. “Beats staring at he wall.”

 

 

 

Anthony chuckled and went to the chest. He pulled out a new paperback and set it on the table by Xander’s elbow. “This is the sequel to the last one. Perhaps once you’ve read it, we can discuss its strengths and weaknesses.”

 

 

 

“Okay. I've never been in a book club before.”

 

 

 

Anthony went to the door and opened it. “Have a good sleep, Xander. We will speak soon.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“After that things did get better. Slowly, but they got better. For all of us fighters.” Xander twirled a wrench on his finger.

 

 

 

“That’s good, Xander. You did good.” Spike wondered about his twinge of jealousy at the thought of Xander spending so much time with this unknown vamp. The suspicion of what their relationship became bothered him. He turned his attention fully to the bike and tried to be casual about getting the information he wanted.

 

 

 

“Yeah, I made the cages a little better padded.”

 

 

 

“What about your new friend? Did you chat about books?”

 

 

 

“We did. It started out that we would talk about the books we read. Then, the went on to other things,” he said, one of his hands went up to wrap around the pearl at his throat.

 

 

 

Spike attached a wire, trying to concentrate on getting it right. “What next, poetry?”

 

 

 

Xander chuckled. “Actually, yeah. I tell you, if my teacher’s had used some of those poems in class, I wouldn’t have flunked English.”

 

 

 

“Let me guess. John Donne?”

 

 

 

“How did you know?”

 

 

 

“To His Mistress Going to Bed, right?”

 

 

 

“Yes!”

 

 

 

“Figures it would take poems about women undressing to get you to read.”

 

 

 

“Spike! I read a lot!” Xander sat up straight.

 

 

 

“Not while I lived with you.”

 

 

 

“Because I had a life, and friends, television and wonderful things like that! I read the whole time I was in Africa.” Xander frowned at the stings.

 

 

 

“And then you joined a private book club.”

 

 

 

“Anthony kept me sane, Spike! We talked about all kinds of things!”

 

 

 

“Dinner, poetry, how long before he got in your pants?” the minute he said it, Spike wished he could call it back. He turned to Xander to find his friend’s eye wide. “Xander, I…”

 

 

 

Xander’s face darkened, he stood up, and threw down the wrench. “You don’t know a thing, Spike. Not. A. God. Damned thing.” He turned and ran for the door.

 

 

 

Cursing under his breath, Spike scrambled to his feet, scattering bike parts, and ran after Xander. “Wait! Xander, I’m sorry!” He stopped short of the bright sunshine outside the door. “Come back!” He watched, trapped, as Xander ran away up the path and disappeared into the woods.

 

 

 

With a snarl, Spike whirled and threw the screw driver he still clutched across the room. It imbedded itself in a wooden stud and the plastic handle shattered. Disgusted with himself, Spike put his back to the wall and slid down to sit in the cold floor.

 

~~~

 

Xander ran. He let his feet take him up the path to the overlook. He didn’t see the trees blurring past. When he reached the table, his breath was burning in his lungs. He sat on the bench, dug his hands into his long hair and let it go.

 

 

 

It had been hard to think about Anthony so much. Hard to remember and talk about those early days. He thought the one person who would understand would have been Spike.

 

~~~

 

Half an hour later, Oz stepped into the garage carrying a tray. He looked down at Spike who still sat by the door. “Spike? I brought lunch for you and Xander. But, no Xander.”

 

 

 

Spike sighed and pulled himself up. “I put my foot in it, Oz.” He crossed the garage and leaned against the tool chest.

 

 

 

The slim redhead followed him and sat the tray on top of the chest. He sat down on the low stool Xander had vacated. “That happens.”

 

 

 

“That’s the problem. It shouldn’t. Not with me. He trusts me, Oz. Hell, he even hired me to hear him out. He was opening up about someone he cared for and I…” Spike flung himself away from the tools, desperately wanting to destroy something. His hands clenched and unclenched.

 

 

 

Oz pointed at a cardboard box by the door. “You know, that box over there looks mighty helpless.” Spike went gameface, and attacked the box. He kicked it, pummeled it, and ripped at the cloth that soon spilled out. When the box was reduced to something not even close to square and the clothing inside ripped to shreds, Spike finally stopped.

 

 

 

He crossed back to the tool chest and sat down on the floor with is back to it and closed his eyes. “What did I just destroy and which female will scream at me for it?”

 

 

 

“Old clothes destined for the thrift store. I’ll tell Willow I took it into town.”

 

 

 

“Thanks, mate.”

 

 

 

“Should I go after him?”

 

 

 

“No,” Spike sighed. “I should. Damned sun.”

 

 

 

“He’ll listen, I’m sure.”

 

 

 

“I’m not, Oz. He’s so fragile right now. I let myself get… I didn’t watch what I said.”

 

 

 

“He’ll forgive you.”

 

 

 

“I hope so, Oz. I hope so.”

 


Chapter 16

Three hours later, after Spike had gone through the tunnels to the barn, beat up a punching bag for a while, come back, methodically cleaned up all signs of the great box massacre, and attempted to return to fixing up his motorcycle, he sensed someone behind him.

 

 

 

“Hey, Red,” he said without looking around.

 

 

 

The petite redhead looked at the untouched lunch tray with the sandwich still covered and the blood congealed in its mug, then sat down next to the vampire and watched him slowly turn a ratcheting socket wrench, making it click. “Still no Xander?” Spike shook his head. “Want to talk about it?”

 

 

 

Spike sighed and put down the wrench. “He was telling me about his time in the tunnels. He’s giving us some good information, too. I learned the bastard who runs the operation travels on the ship sometimes! That means he’s in our territory when he’s in California.” He looked up at Willow with an optimistic grin.

 

 

 

“Spike. You know what I mean. What went wrong?”

 

 

 

“Can’t throw you off, can I? He was opening up about... about someone he had made friends with.”

 

 

 

“Mrs. or Mr. Pearl?”

 

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

 

“The pearl he wears. I know Xander. It has to mean something.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. The pearl.” Spike didn’t want to share any secrets Xander wanted to keep to himself. He berated himself again for his lack of caring. Damnit, he’d been learning about what he most wanted to know; the mysterious Anthony. “I don’t know why, but I… I let myself get distracted by a tricky bit on the bike and … I snarked when I shouldn’t have.”

 

 

 

Willow studied Spike’s profile, seeing the lines of distress on his brow. “Well, you’re evil, after all,” she joked.

 

 

 

Spike whipped his head to look at her, his eyes narrowed. “Not to him. Not to you.”

 

 

 

Willow smiled, slid to her knees next to Spike and put her arms around the slumped shoulders. “I know, Spike. I know. I’ve seen your soul, even before you had it officially reinstalled. He knows, too.”

 

 

 

Spike closed his eyes and allowed himself to accept some of Willow’s sweetness. “I hope so.”

 

 

 

Willow gave him a final squeeze and sat back on the stool. “Where did he go?”

 

 

 

“He took off into the woods. I’m sure he can take care of himself. The wards are working and I don’t think he’s fool enough to get himself lost.”

 

 

 

“Yep. Our boy’s all growed up!”

 

 

 

“He has, Red. He really has.” He ran his hands over his hair and looked to his friend again. “Can I admit something without damaging my reputation more?”

 

 

 

She smiled at him, “I’ll keep it to myself. Witchs’ promise.”

 

 

 

“You’re making that bit up, but I trust you as far as Oz.” He smiled a little at Willow’s pout. “I could see this Xander within the doughnut boy, long ago. A strength and courage he wasn’t aware of himself, and all the white hat qualities I mocked… I… I really admired.” Spike looked at the chrome frame of the bike where he should be reflected. “He’s always been a good man. And I’m still not sure how he kept his humor through it all, but I have to admit I’m glad.”

 

 

 

Willow suddenly saw something in Spike’s attitude that she wasn’t quite sure had been there before. Spike genuinely cared for Xander on more than a friendly level, and he didn’t know it himself. Maybe it was just his pleasure at having someone to take care of again. She bit her lip to keep from doing an Andrew impression and doing some mocking herself. Instead she said softly. “I agree, Spike. Xander was and is the best ever.”

 

 

 

Spike bobbed his head, sniffed, and picked up a couple of engine parts. “At this rate, I’ll have this baby together and can give him a ride when he comes back. If he’ll talk to me.”

 

 

 

“He’s pouted long enough. I’ll go get him.” She stood up. “I bet he’s at the overlook.”

 

 

 

“Red?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, Spike?”

 

 

 

“Take chocolate. You may have to bribe him.”

 

 

 

“I will. Don’t worry. It’ll all work out.”

 

 

 

She picked up the tray, but paused on the way out the door. A tiny scrap of blue fabric with a button on it lay just under the bumper of her car and the box she’d been after Oz to take to town for weeks was gone. She filed this away and took the tray back to the kitchen. She left it on the counter with a scrawled note of her destination, then hurriedly threw some fresh food and drinks into a backpack before setting off up the path.

 

 

 

At the beginning of her hike, she fully expected to make the steep climb to the top, but when she reached the broken sign pointing to the gazebo, she heard the loud snap of a branch breaking. Cautiously, she turned up the weed-choked path to investigate.

 

 

 

She rounded a bend in the path to see Xander wrenching at a limb on the dead tree which lay partially on the broken gazebo. His broad, muscular back was covered with a sheen of sweat and his long braid was no longer neat. The limb gave way with a loud crack. Xander turned with his back to her to throw it on a growing pile when Willow spoke. “We have saws for that kind of work.” In an instant, his grip on the branch shifted to hold it like a club, and he whirled to face her with his feet braced. “Eep!” cried Willow.

 

 

 

Xander immediately relaxed and threw the branch aside. “Willow. I’m sorry. You startled me.”

 

 

 

She carefully picked her way toward the gazebo. “I guess I should be glad you weren’t piling rocks.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“It’s okay. I’ve lived around people who could break me long enough know I should whistle when I walk.”

 

 

 

Xander’s shoulders slumped. “Is that how you see me now, Willow? As someone who could break you?”

 

 

 

Willow dashed to her friend. “Oh, honey, no. I just mean the way you’re all shirtless, your hair’s wild and full of leaves, and Conan, and with the tree breaking…”

 

 

 

“It’s okay. Say… did you happen to bring food?” He poked her backpack.

 

 

 

“Yes. Come sit in the shade with me and we’ll see what I threw in here.” They settled down on a bench in the gazebo. As Xander guzzled a bottle of water, Willow looked around. “You think this place can be fixed up?”

 

 

 

“Sure. It will take a little while and I’ll have to hire a little muscle and maybe a bit of heavy equipment, but it can be done.” Xander opened a package of peanut butter crackers and shoved one in his mouth.

 

 

 

“I thought you’d be up at the overlook.”

 

 

 

Xander swallowed his mouthful. “I was. Then I got my head back on straight and realized I was hungry. I headed back, but couldn’t resist visiting Zeb again. I started cleaning up a few small branches and one thing led to another.”

 

 

 

“So you’ll take the job Oz offered you?”

 

 

 

“If you approve. From what I understand, you run the place.”

 

 

 

Willow snorted. “Yeah, right. And I’m delighted to have you around, Xander.”

 

 

 

“I’m delighted to be back, Willow. I really am.”

 

 

 

She watched Xander bite deep into an apple. “Oh, you’re bleeding!”

 

 

 

Xander glanced at the long deep scratch on his forearm and shrugged. “I’ve had worse.”

 

 

 

She was now looking him over with the trained eyes of one who has treated too many post-fight wounds. “But you’re covered in scratches and bruises!”

 

 

 

“They didn’t allow me to fight for a month before I was sold. They wanted me to be as pretty as possible so I’d bring a good price.” Xander took another big bite.

 

 

 

“Oh, Xander. I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“You didn’t do it.”

 

 

 

He hadn’t mentioned Spike, so she dared go there. “Spike told me you’re giving us lots of information to take down the kingpin.”

 

 

 

“So he says. What else did he tell you?” Xander mumbled around his apple.

 

 

 

“Enough to know he still suffers from Footnmouth. He’s careless about pretty much everyone but himself. You should see him delight in making the Slayers cry. I tell you a couple of them would have dusted him if they hadn’t been using plastic stakes.”

 

 

 

“That would be fun to watch.”

 

 

 

“Xan, he knows what he did, even if he doesn’t know why. He’s back there beating himself up.”

 

 

 

“I thought his soul had pretty much settled in and he was over the whole evil gig. He’s been super nice to me.”

 

 

 

“Who, Spike? Well, yes and no. He’s been snarling at us to treat you nice.”

 

 

 

“Like you wouldn’t?”

 

 

 

“Xander… We do, we will. But he’s right in some ways, Xander. It’s all I can do to keep from grilling you about… about everything.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded and threw the apple core into the woods. “Like what? What did Spike say?” His hand went to the pearl and grasped it.

 

 

 

“He said nothing you may have told him in confidence, I swear. Just that he accidentally insulted someone you cared about.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “I told him about making the one friend I had down there and he turned it into something smarmy.”

 

 

 

“That’s just how he is. Haven’t you noticed? Whenever something hits him too close personally, he strikes out and pushes it away.”

 

 

 

Xander paused. “Why would Spike care if I had a friend? I’d think he’d be glad.”

 

 

 

Willow shrugged, not wanting to voice that she thought Spike was jealous. “Maybe he resents everything having to do with Africa.”

 

 

 

“Maybe. But Anthony was different. He kept me sane, Willow, he saved my life.”

 

 

 

Willow noted the name, nodded, and pulled a Hershey’s bar from the pack. “Spike told me to bribe you with chocolate.”

 

 

 

Xander laughed and took the brown wrapped candy. “I’m ripping limbs off a tree, what’s he up to?”

 

 

 

“He’s sulking in the garage and I suspect he murdered a box of clothing.”

 

 

 

“I guess he didn’t have a bottle to throw.”

 

 

 

“When Angel told him off, Spike actually destroyed a jeep.”

 

 

 

Xander almost choked on his chocolate. “A jeep? Was he driving? Was he hurt?”

 

 

 

“Nope. It was parked by the garage. It came with the place and was a fixer upper. He tore into it and ripped pieces off… It was a thing to see.”

 

 

 

“Wow.”

 

 

 

“I made him clean up every bit of it and buy me a new one. I won’t have grand scale tantrums on my turf.”

 

 

 

“What did he do then?”

 

 

 

“He disappeared for six months. I wasn’t sure we’d hear from him again.”

 

 

 

Xander unwrapped a piece of cheese and bit into it. “Where does he go when he’s not here?”

 

 

 

“Nobody knows. Sometimes he travels. There’s a voice mail number we can use to contact him and I think he has to check in with the council on a regular basis. We’ll get odd postcards in the mail sometimes. And the council sends him places.”

 

 

 

“Oh. You don’t think…” Xander straightened as if ready run and find Spike. Willow noted this, too.

 

 

 

Willow laid a hand on Xander’s arm. “He’s not going to leave until you tell him to or he’d be gone by now.”

 

 

 

“You think so?”

 

 

 

“Xander…” Willow hesitated. “Spike has never spent this much time around here before. A week here, a few days there. Never this long.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “I… I thought if I came back after dark, he’d be gone.”

 

 

 

“If he wanted to be gone, he would, Xander. He was sitting right next to his car with the special windows.”

 

 

 

“Oh. I forgot about that.” Xander cracked open the can of soda and took a big drink. “Damn that’s good. What’s for dinner?”

 

 

 

Willow laughed. “I don’t know. Let’s go back and we’ll find out.”

 

 

 

Xander threw a muscular arm around her shoulders and pulled her close. “I love you, Willow. I missed you so much.”

 

 

 

She slid her arm around him and hugged him back. “I love you, too, Xander. I never stopped looking for you when I could.” Then she pulled back a little. “Even if you do bleed on me.”

 

 

 

“I’m so sorry!” Horrified, Xander moved away from his friend.

 

 

 

“Panic much? No worries, Xan. One of the first spells I learned for Buffy takes blood out of clothes.”

 

 

 

“I’m not contagious or anything.”

 

 

 

“What do you mean?”

 

 

 

“AIDS. Other nastiness. What do you think modern scientists would think if they learned a bit of magic rock planted in the right place can fend off venereal diseases?” Xander rubbed the area between the base of his penis and leg.

 

 

 

“Honestly? I knew there was some residual magic around you, but it was protective, so I’ve not asked about it.”

 

 

 

“It hurt like fire for a week and it renders the bearer sterile, but... all in all, I’d rather be alive.” He shrugged. “I don’t think I ever wanted kids, anyway.”

 

 

 

“Did you have a say in the matter?”

 

 

 

“Yes. I had to earn the money for it.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Her first reaction was to be a shocked that her friend would spend money to have sex, but then right on the heels of that reaction was the thought that Xander was smart. Willow didn’t know his story. She didn’t know if Xander had a say in the sex, either. She pulled on a brave little toaster face and smiled at him. “I’m glad you’re safe.”

 

 

 

Xander knew his friend well enough to read what flitted over her face. It pained him to see her pity him. Suddenly, he realized Spike had been shielding him. Now wanting to go there with his friend at the moment, Xander grinned and got to his feet. “Come on. I’m hungry.”

 

 

 

“Are you going to talk to Spike?” She tucked away the litter and zipped up the backpack which Xander promptly took from her to carry.

 

 

 

“I’m still a bit mad at him. I think I’ll wait until he says he’s sorry.”

 

 

 

“You may have a wait.”

 

 

 

“We’ll see.”

 

 

 

When they got back to the house, they came into the kitchen to find it full. Spike, Oz, and Gunn were sitting around the table, beer bottles before them.

 

 

 

The smell of blood hit Spike as soon as the door opened, instantly bringing him to his feet. He looked Xander’s bare chest over and took in the scratches and bruises. Xander’s hair had bits of leaves in it and was coming wild from its braid. “Was there a fight? Did something get through the wards undetected? Did you kill it?”

 

 

 

Xander exchanged a look with Willow. “It was already dead. I think I won.”

 

 

 

Spike’s concern turned to puzzlement.

 

 

 

Willow took pity and explained before things could get worse. “Xander started cleaning up the tree that fell on the gazebo.”

 

 

 

“We have saws for that,” Oz said.

 

 

 

“That’s what Willow told me. I’m going to go clean up.” Without another look at Spike, Xander headed upstairs.

 

 

 

Willow chewed her lip as she watched Spike wilt, eyes downcast. “Spike?”

 

 

 

“What?” he asked miserably.

 

 

 

“Ball’s in your court,” she said before turning to inventory dinner ingredients.

 


Chapter 17

“Man, that smells great!” Xander said as he came back to the kitchen with his long, wet hair pulled back into a neat braid once more.

 

 

 

“Cheese burgers with three kinds of cheese, grilled onions, mustard, and a thick pickle on the side,” Willow smiled. “Your timing is perfect.”

 

 

 

Instead of sitting by Spike, Xander dropped into the chair beside Oz. "Remember when we’d have ‘cheeseburger in paradise’ nights?”

 

 

 

Oz nodded. “When everyone chipped in five bucks, we all ate good.”

 

 

 

Willow frowned at the snub to Spike, but placed his full plate before her friend. “As long as Giles didn’t get stuck with the clean up, I think he liked it, too.”

 

 

 

“I need to call him,” Xander said as he wrapped his hands around the soft bun.

 

 

 

Willow took what should have been Xander’s seat beside Spike. She patted the withdrawn vamp on the arm before she answered. “He’s supposed to chat me on the computer tonight. Do you want to talk to him then?”

 

 

 

Xander nodded, then let his eyes roll up in an expression of pleasure. They all smiled at Xander’s pleasure except Spike who was picking the label off his beer bottle. They chatted a bit, reminiscing about the burger and research parties at Giles’.

 

 

 

Once his food was half gone, Xander turned the conversation to the Gazebo. He gave Oz a breakdown of what he thought needed to be done and how long it might take. He hoped to complete it before winter.

 

 

 

“The first thing we need to do is get you established back in the world,” Gunn said. “I have started the paper work with the authorities, but they’ll have to see you in person.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Yeah.” Xander’s mood fell a bit.

 

 

 

“Hey! I almost forgot!” Willow chirped. She got up and rummaged in her pocketbook. She came back and held out a silver key chain with several keys on it. “Ta da!”

 

 

 

Xander swallowed his bite of pickle and took them. “What’s this?”

 

 

 

She leaned over his shoulder and pointed them out. “House key. Master key to all outbuildings except the foundry. Physical override key to the gate. Key to my car, just in case.”

 

 

 

“Oh, Willow!” Xander pulled her into a hug. “Thank you!” He was touched by this physical manifestation of being “home.”

 

 

 

“You’re staying here now. We can’t have you getting locked out at all odd hours. Look at the fob.” Xander turned over the silver oval to reveal an etched silhouette of the original Enterprise form Star Trek. “I looked for Babylon 5, but this was the best I could do.”

 

 

 

“Gee. I guess I need some pants with pockets, now.”

 

 

 

“It’s still early on a Tuesday. The mall should be fairly dead, if you want to go.”

 

 

 

“I don’t know…”

 

 

 

“Come on. We’ll just get you enough clothes to make it safe for you to work properly at the Gazebo.”

 

 

 

“Bare feet and power tools are of the unmixy.” Oz put in sagely.

 

 

 

“True, but… I don’t have any money.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, you do,” Spike spoke up. He didn’t look at Xander, but rolled the now-empty bottle between his palms. “Several of your gems have sold. I’m holding the money in a special account until you can establish a bank account of your own.”

 

 

 

“Less your commission?” Xander snapped.

 

 

 

Spike glanced up sharply. “I’m not getting commission, remember?” He got up and left before Xander could say anything else. Shortly, a door slammed upstairs.

 

 

 

Xander didn’t meet anyone’s eyes, but returned to eating.

 

 

 

Willow bit her lip and started to tell Xander to go to Spike.

 

 

 

“Work clothes can be put on the company card,” Oz said. “It’s better than having the place shut down when you drop something on your foot.” He gave his wife his patented ‘don’t meddle’ look.

 

 

 

Xander shrugged.

 

 

 

“Come on,” Willow coaxed. “I want to go to the bookstore anyway.”

 

 

 

“Sure. I guess so.” He straightened. “It’s time I went out in the world anyway. No. Wait. I don’t have clothes to wear to go out clothes shopping.”

 

 

 

“You’ve got good enough clothes to go to Wal-Mart.” Willow said.

 

 

 

“First day back out in the world and you want to take the man to Wal-Mart?” Gunn asked.

 

 

 

Xander looked over at him. “I’ve fought Giftox demons in the ring. I can face Wal-Mart.”

 

 

 

Gunn thought it over. “That’s the only qualifications I would take. Still, be careful.”

 

 

 

Now excited, Willow hopped to her feet. “I’ll make a list, and then we’ll take you upstairs so I can measure you. It’s not good to start out not having a clue about sizes.”

 

 

 

Oz leaned in and said quietly to Xander, “Be brave, man. If you start to wig, you know she’ll bring you right back.”

 

 

 

“I know. That’s why I can bear to go.”

 

 

 

Xander finished his meal and let Willow take him upstairs to Midra’s sewing room for a good measuring. In his room below them, Spike easily heard their conversation about shopping and Xander joking about driving. He closed his eyes to dampen the unreasonable anger. Xander was going to go out driving with him. Then he suddenly knew what Willow had meant. He had to apologize.

 

 

 

Sod it! One thing Spike wasn’t good at was apologies. He listened to them walk down the stairs and leave the house. He followed their progress to the garage and listened to the car drive away. Spike picked up his notepad and pen and went upstairs to Xander’s room. The door was standing open and the man had not told him to stay out.

 

 

 

Spike crossed to the sun-lit chair and sank down upon it. He bit the tip of his pen and started to write.

 

 

 

~~~~

 

 

 

As Willow turned out onto the main road, she loked over at Xander. “Tell me when you want to go home, Okay?”

 

 

 

“Home. I will. Did you know I kept the keys to my apartment? Even after Sunnydale went all hole, I carried the keys. Not my car keys, though.”

 

 

 

“Huh. I did, too. I still have a key to Ravello drive somewhere.”

 

 

 

“You’ve built quite a home for yourself, Willow. I’m flattered to be a part of it.”

 

 

 

“Xander.” She reached over and took his hand. “you’ve always had a home in my heart.”

 

 

 

He squeezed her hand and let her reclaim it and put it safely o the wheel. “Thank you, Wills. But do I really rate the biggest room?”

 

 

 

Willow laughed. “Do you want a smaller room? There are three more to choose from. All guest rooms.”

 

 

 

“I like that room…”

 

 

 

“Then stay there. Share the window with Spike and no one will have a problem with it. Well, Buffy might complain, but she enjoys that.”

 

 

 

Xander laughed. “Yeah, I can share the window.”

 

 

 

“He feels bad, you know.”

 

 

 

“I know. But… I can’t let him walk all over me, Willow.”

 

 

 

“Just know that he’s fragile, too. He hides it, but his soul digs at him.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I remember.” Xander cast about for some way to turn the topic of conversation. “You say we can talk to Giles over the computer? Through a crappy little picture?”

 

 

 

“Oh, Xander!” He knew he’d hit on her love of computers. “You don’t know all the good technology there is now!” He relaxed and let himself worry secretly about Spike as Willow went on about bandwidth and new micro chips. His attention snapped back when she brought it back to shopping. “We could buy you a lap top of your own! There’s a wonderful computer shop in the mall and the new…”

 

 

 

“Whoa! Slow down. I don’t need anew toy just yet. Let me get some clothes, first.”

 

 

 

“Okay. But I do have an old one I can set you up with. It’s not super fast, but you can learn on it. You were talking at dinner the other day about all the music you need to catch up with. The whole house is wireless. I can get the old laptop out and you can download what you want. I even have a MusicBox I’m not using but it only holds a hundred songs. I got it free with my new laptop. But I have a better one.”

 

 

 

“A hundred songs?”

 

 

 

And so they talked and shopped.

 

 

 

Xander returned home wearing new clothes with an arm full of bags. He and Willow soon drew everyone into the living room with their happy chatter. They recounted how Willow turned the tables on a woman who was looking down on Xander’s shabby clothes by telling her Xander had lost everything in a fire. On their brief trip to the mall, a bookseller shamelessly hit on Xander; practically following him around and carrying his purchases to the counter for him.

 

 

 

“I think it was because I was buying so much,” Xander blushed.

 

 

 

“Bull!” Willow cried. “You’re hot, Xander.”

 

 

 

“No. I’m not.”

 

 

 

“Riiiiight. Hey! Where’s Spike? She told me one of the books he’d ordered was in.”

 

 

 

“He went out a little while after you did,” Gunn said. “Don’t know where.”

 

 

 

Xander’s good mood crashed. “I think I’ll take some of this upstairs.”

 

 

 

“I’ll call you for dinner,” Midra said.

 

 

 

“Thanks.”

 

 

 

Upstairs, Xander immediately found the neatly folded note. It was sitting on a chair which had been set in the middle of the rug.

 

 

 

Xander chewed his lip as he read it, and was puzzled to find a verse of poetry.

 

 

 

Too often between brothers a word

 

Wounds more deeply than a sword.

 

Perhaps another word, spoken in due haste,

 

Can heal the rift, and avoid the waste.

 

I’m sorry I mocked what you hold dear

 

I hope this makes our course again clear.

 

 

 

See you tomorrow.

 

S.

 

 

 

Poetry? When had Spike had time to find the right bit of poetry? Still, he had apologized. His mood lifted, Xander wondered when he’d be back.

 

 

 

On his way down to dinner, Xander stopped at Spike’s room. In his chat with the admittedly attractive and intelligent bookseller, he’d told her about the bike Spike was restoring and she’d shown him a book about the history of the Indian motorcycle that had just come in. Xander didn’t think she worked on commission, but it looked like something all the guys would enjoy. He sat it on the floor and leaned it against the door where the vampire would find it. He jumped when the door that wasn’t latched opened, letting the heavy book thump to the floor. Xander started to just close the door, but curiosity got the better of him.

 

 

 

There was not much in the room. It was very simply and tastefully decorated in warm browns, tans, and punctuated with blue the color of a Siamese cat’s eyes. A part of Xander’s mind noted how the blue matched Spike’s eyes at times. The room was smaller than his own and heavy curtains blocked the sun from the one window. A few pieces of clothing were scattered around. The blankets had been thrown into place, or perhaps Spike slept on top of them. A sword in its sheath leaned in the corner. A stack of books lay on the bedside table and more were in a sloppy pile under the window.

 

 

 

Xander knelt down and looked over the titles, wondering if the poetry book Spike had quoted was there. Of course, there was a whole library in the room above, but he thought the book would be here. They were fiction novels and surprisingly to him a few biographies. No poetry.

 

 

 

Xander turned off the light, closed the door all the way, and left the book as he had intended.

 

 

 

After the meal, Gunn took Xander into the tidy office and went over details of Xander’s location and the timing of the event. He was very careful to stay away from any personal details. After three hours, a couple of phone calls, and several visits to various government websites, Gunn declared him pretty much backing the land of the living. The following week he had to appear in person at the court house.

 

 

 

“You should call your mother before the government does, Xander.”

 

 

 

He sighed and ran his hand over his hair. “Yeah. I should. First thing in the morning, okay?”

 

 

 

“I’ll print out the information you need and you can call when it feels right. Thanks, Xander. I’m sorry I had to do all this…”

 

 

 

“Gunn, I am more grateful to you than you know. I was worried about a media circus. I really don’t want to make the rounds of the talk shows.”

 

 

 

“I’m a pro. It won’t happen. Want to raid the cookie jar?”

 

 

 

“I’d love to.”

 

 

 

Willow intercepted them. “Xander! Do you want to talk to Giles? It’s almost G-Time!”

 

 

 

Xander moaned. “Oh, Willow. I do. I really do. But, tomorrow? Can I talk to him tomorrow?”

 

 

 

“Oh. Sure. I guess you’ve been digging things up.”

 

 

 

“Yeah, “ Xander laughed dryly. “I’m alive again. Now I know how Buffy felt.”

 

 

 

That night, Xander lay awake. Thoughts about talking to his mother haunted him. What could he say? “Hi, Mom! Guess what, I’m not dead and you have to return the insurance money. By the way, how was Dad’s funeral?”

 

 

 

And Giles. He loved Giles like a favorite uncle. There were times the man literally laid his life on the line for all of them. He had been the last person Xander had talked to before he set out on that fateful shopping trip. And the stroke? How could he face that?

 

 

 

He hoped Spike wasn’t mocking him with the poetry. He had seemed almost jealous when he’d mentioned reading poetry with Anthony.

 

 

 

Xander looked at the shape of the stack of books on the table. One of them was the complete poems of John Donne. Anthony had an often voiced regret that he’d never been able to get this hands on that very book. Travelers so rarely read poetry. Now Xander could read all those poems Anthony only barely remembered. The loss hit him again, hard. He punched his pillow in anger.

 

 

 

Damn Spike. He’d lost people before. He’d seen the vamp when Buffy died. Maybe they could talk about it. Suddenly, often-suppressed tears welled to the top. He rolled to his side and hid his sobs in the pillow. Jessie, Mrs. Calendar, Joyce, Buffy, Anya, Anthony, his father, the potentials and new slayers he’d barely gotten to know, the past five years of freedom… all his losses surfaced.

 

 

 

And he let it go. When the tide finally subsided, he lay as one washed ashore, wishing he could call out for Spike and see how his friend felt. He wanted to talk about that hard summer after Buffy died and to apologize for shutting him out. He wanted to know of another’s losses.

 

 

 

But Spike wasn’t there.

 


Chapter 18

Willow said, pressing back against him, playing a running private joke, and naming a movie star she’d once called cute.

 

 

Oz nipped her neck and growled a little. “Not James,” he said through his teeth.

 

 

 

“No. No. I said… Rains. Supposed to rain.” She giggled, rolled over, and kissed his nose.

 

 

 

He growled again, nipped at her and rolled over on top of her. “Mine!”

 

 

 

She smiled and bared her throat to him. “Of course, my love. Always yours.”

 

 

 

He kissed her neck and shifted down to lay with his head on her chest. Theirs was a comfortable marriage, full of humor and security. Every morning they took a few minutes to themselves.

 

 

 

“Spike didn’t come back last night, did he?” Willow asked.

 

 

 

“No. I didn’t hear him. I hope he hasn’t done a runner.”

 

 

 

“I doubt it. He knows Xander needs him.”

 

 

 

“True. I hope Xander knows he can come to any one of us.”

 

 

 

“I’m sure he does. I wish you’d let me go to him last night.” Oz had heard him crying, yet kept Willow from investigating.

 

 

 

“If he needs us, he’ll come. He’s not one to run from trouble any more.”

 

 

 

Willow sighed and ran her fingers through Oz’s short red hair. “He’s the same and yet he’s not. You should have seen him with that tree branch. I almost wet myself.”

 

 

 

“I’ve watched him fight, I can believe it.”

 

 

 

“I just wish we could catch a break and get the bastard who did this to him.”

 

 

 

“We will, sweetheart. Xander himself has been giving us lots of data.”

 

 

 

“Speaking of data, I’m going to give Xander my old laptop.”

 

 

 

Oz shifted and looked up at her. “Just make sure all the pictures are off it.”

 

 

 

Willow giggled. “I’m going to reformat it and give him a blank slate.”

 

 

 

“Good. And when do I get to take pictures of you in that new outfit?”

 

 

 

Xander heard Willow’s laughter as he passed their door. He smiled warmly and moved on to leave them their privacy.

 

 

 

No one was downstairs, so he grabbed an apple, some juice, and a pop tart and headed out to the barn. He used his new key and let himself in the empty building, climbed the ladder to the loft, and pushed open the doors that were once used to hoist up hay bales. He sat on an old sofa that partly made up a sitting area and looked out over the lawn to the misty trees.

 

 

 

He had eaten his meal and was enjoying the sun’s morning warmth when he heard a noise below him. Silently, he dropped to his knees and scurried to the edge of the loft. He peeked over the side and watched as a door below him opened. Spike stepped through with a package under his arm. He was wearing black jeans and a long sleeved black shirt. Xander wondered briefly why he didn’t wear his coat anymore and made a mental note to ask. Xander grinned, and without hesitation, dropped the fifteen feet to land behind Spike. He knocked the startled and suddenly gamefaced vampire to the ground.

 

 

 

Spike rolled, leaped to his feet, and crouched as his opponent did the same. Instead of an assassin, he found Xander, his hair free and wild, matching his crouch. “What’s this, whelp?”

 

 

 

Xander quirked an eyebrow. “Payback, perhaps?” Xander charged and Spike dodged.

 

 

 

They grappled, almost playfully, for fifteen minutes, then Spike stood off a little distance after recovering from a nice rolling toss. “What’s the matter? Still mad? Didn’t you find my note?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I did.” Xander paused, wanting to ask about what poem it came from, but during a fight didn’t seem right.

 

 

 

Spike tongued the back of his teeth. “Couldn’t you get anyone to read it to you?”

 

 

 

“Old joke, Spike. Almost as old as you!” Xander grinned and charged again, sending them both to the floor. Spike tried some of his more slippery moves, only to find himself countered again and again. They rolled into the weapons rack, and sent staffs and stakes flying. Xander wound up on top of Spike and was the first to grab up a stake and press it to Spike’s chest, deliberately off-target by a good four inches.

 

 

 

“Yield!” Spike called. Xander dropped the plastic stake and grinned down at his friend.

 

 

 

“Got you, didn’t I?” A triumphant Xander put his hands on Spike’s shoulders and pinned him. His hair fell around them like a tent.

 

 

 

“Yes, you’ve got me” Spike said. The air seemed warm and he resisted the urge to grab Xander’s hair with both hands and pull him down for a sarcastic kiss. “Now, are you going to let me up or are you enjoying yourself up there?”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged and bounced just a little. He could feel Spike’s sharp hipbones and ribs. Suddenly, he remembered straddling another vampire he fought with like this. Quickly, he got to his feet and held out a hand for Spike. “Something to sit on,” he mumbled.

 

 

 

“Something to sit on,” Spike echoed as he let Xander help him up, hiding his disappointment with more snark. “There are more interesting things to sit on.”

 

 

 

Xander got back in their game, smirked, and started picking up to the weapons. “I know.” They tidied up the barn together. “So where did you go?” Xander finally asked.

 

 

 

“To town. Let off some steam. Ate an attempted rapist. Picked up a bike part and my book. My book! Damn it, Harris, you better not have damaged it.” Spike stalked over to his dropped package and picked it up.

 

 

 

“Sorry if I did.” Xander followed him. He just glimpsed a colorful cover before the vampire tucked it back in its bag. “What cha got?”

 

 

 

“Birthday present for Niblet. I was going to hide it out here. It’s fine. Lucky for you.”

 

 

 

“Sorry. It was too good an opportunity to pass up.”

 

 

 

“You got me good, I’ll give you that. You need to tell me more about your mysterious trainer.” The more the concepts of sex and vampires surfaced, the more certain Spike was there had been more than a professional relationship there. Of course, the bite scar on Xander’s leg said that, too.

 

 

 

Xander’s smile faded. “I will.” He looked away. “He was a good man, Spike, for all his nature.”

 

 

 

Spike cursed himself. He wasn’t going to bollocks it up again. “It happens, you know.”

 

 

 

Xander met his eyes. “I know, Spike.”

 

 

 

Spike ducked his head. “Sorry I said bad things about…”

 

 

 

“It’s okay. You got distracted by something shiny and forgot to not snark.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. That was it.”

 

 

 

Xander felt the need to hug his friend, but just slapped him on the back instead. “Wanna see what’s for breakfast?” Spike hid the book up in the rafters as Xander dusted himself off.

 

 

 

Spike and Xander opened the outside and the basement doors into the kitchen at almost the same time, making Midra jump. “Xander! I thought you were still upstairs asleep. Spike! When did you come back?”

 

 

 

“I went out to the barn to watch the sun come up.” Xander said.

 

 

 

“Just got back,” Spike smirked.

 

 

 

“Well, you may as well sit down and eat while you’re here.”

 

 

 

“Just a bit of tea for me, Luv,” Spike said as he sat down.

 

 

 

“You know I don’t keep tea ready. I’ll put the water on, you make your own.”

 

 

 

“Bloody Americans.”

 

 

 

Midra grinned. “I passed that test with flying colors. Did better than you!”

 

 

 

“Why should I keep up with who the bloody hell votes on things? Not like I vote.”

 

 

 

The rest of the household shortly filtered in and Xander relaxed in the familiar banter.

 

 

 

After breakfast where they all talked and laughed, Willow and Dawn dragged Xander off to the off to introduce him to his new laptop. Spike went upstairs to his room and picked up a battered paperback. Hearing that Xander was still downstairs, he went up to read in the sun.

 

 

 

When Xander finally broke away from the ladies, he came back to his room with the new computer under his arm. He paused in the door when he discovered Spike with one of his new graphic novels open before his face. “Now who’s reading comic books?”

 

 

 

“I am, now shut up and let me finish.”

 

 

 

Xander chuckled and set his new toy on the table. “Gunn is looking for you.”

 

 

 

“Oh?” Spike said without looking up.

 

 

 

“He’ll be in the office.”

 

 

 

“Cool.”

 

 

 

Xander left the vampire and went into the bathroom to shower. When he came out, the room was empty. Several of his graphic novels lay on the chair. He sat down at he table and turned the laptop on. Willow’s instructions swirled in his head, but he managed to connect to the Internet. He typed in his new password, jellyfilled1, and stared at the screen. So much was out there, where to start? He looked around the room and his eyes settled on the folded paper he’d left by his bed. He could find where Spike’s poem came from and one-up the vamp.

 

 

 

He found Google, and typed in the first line in quotes as Willow had showed him with no results. Puzzled, he tried various phrases with equal lack of luck. After fifteen minutes, he gave up and looked for naked pictures of Seven of Nine.

 

 

 

When Willow knocked on the partly open door later, she found Xander sprawled on the bed reading one of his new books. She sat down on the bed beside him. “Catching up with the X-Men?”

 

 

 

“Uh-huh. This Weldon guy is great.”

 

 

 

Willow picked one up and looked at the cover. “Whedon,” she corrected. “Hey! You need to watch the Wonder Woman movie he directed. She’s gorgeous!”

 

 

 

Xander put his book aside and smiled at his friend. “Show it to me, soon. Okay?’

 

 

 

“It’s a date. Oh! Gunn says to remind you to call your mother.”

 

 

 

“Eep!” Xander sat up and picked up a pillow. “I don’t know what to say to her, Willow.”

 

 

 

“How about ‘Hi, Mom. I’m home.’”

 

 

 

“That’s better than some of the ideas I’ve had.”

 

 

 

“Come on. I’ll be right here with you. It’s like the homework you never wanted to do. Just get it over with.”

 

 

 

“You’re right. Where’s a phone?”

 

 

 

They crossed the hall into the library where a few comfortable chairs sat here and there. Willow pulled a piece of paper out of her pocket and handed it to him. “Here. You want me to stay?”

 

 

 

“No. Thanks, Wills. I’ll… I’ll be okay.”

 

 

 

Willow gave him a quick hug and left him alone.

 

 

 

Xander fell into one of the chairs and stared at the phone like the alien thing it was. The last time he’d talked on one was the day he’d been abducted. The connection from Africa to England was staticy and Giles had been distracted by some disaster Andrew had caused. He sighed and picked it up. Carefully, he punched the numbers and leaned back when he heard the ringing on the other end.

 

 

 

“Hello?” Came the well-remembered voice.

 

 

 

“Hey, Mom, it’s Xander. I’m home.” His voice cracked and he felt his throat tighten.

 

 

 

“Xan... Xander? Baby? Where? Where are you?”

 

 

 

“I’m in California, Mom. My friends… my company rescued me.”

 

 

 

“Where have you been, sweetheart? I… Did you go native?” She asked with an uncomfortable laugh. “Mr. Giles told me how they searched. Then we couldn’t find you after so long, we thought…”

 

 

 

“I was held captive, Mom. I wanted to come home, I was on the way, but I was kidnapped and… kept.”

 

 

 

“Oh, my poor baby. How are you now? Are you being taken care of? Are you healthy?”

 

 

 

“Yes, Mom. I’m with friends. Good friends. I’ve got a lawyer who will take care of all the legal things.”

 

 

 

“Good, that’s good. I’m doing well. I…” She paused, and Xander closed his eyes, just knowing what she was going to say. “Baby. Did they tell you about…”

 

 

 

“Dad,” Xander rasped. “Yeah. They did. I’m sorry, Mom.”

 

 

 

“The big idiot. We always knew…” She was crying and laughing at the same time.

 

 

 

“Yeah, we did. What are you doing now?”

 

 

 

He heard her sniff and blow her nose. “I’m here in Houston with my sister. You know, Kitty? I… I got my license to sell real estate like I always wanted to. I’m doing real good. And I lost twenty pounds!”

 

 

 

“Oh, Mom! I’m proud of you.”

 

 

 

“Thanks. Oh, Xander. I always knew you’d come back.”

 

 

 

“I always hoped I could.”

 

 

 

“Um… I hate to do this, but I have to show a house in thirty minutes, and…”

 

 

 

“It’s okay, Mom. We’ll talk soon. I love you, Mom.”

 

 

 

“I love you, too, Xander. I always have.”

 

 

 

Xander hung up the phone and sat staring at nothing. His mother sounded happy. She wasn’t just sitting around, and he was very pleased for her. Now he just had to talk to Giles, sign a bunch of papers and he’d be back to being a real person. Whatever that meant.

 

 

 

He went to his room, dressed in his new work clothes, and collected Oz for a business walk up to the Gazebo. He felt best in the open air where freedom was all around him.

 

 

 

After dinner, where Spike teased Dawn about her birthday gift, Gunn took Xander aside for a bit more paperwork. Afterward, Willow whisked him off to the theatre room to watch “Wonder Woman,” eat too many snacks, and recuperate from his busy day. When the movie was over, Xander found himself yawning and looking for Spike.

 

 

 

He carried the empty popcorn bowl to the kitchen. Midra was just closing the refrigerator. “What’s got you up so late?”

 

 

 

“Gunn wanted a cold drink. My man doesn’t always get around as well as he’d like.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Sorry to hear that.”

 

 

 

“Don’t you worry none about him,” Midra smiled. “He’s never been happier. You looking for that vamp of yours?”

 

 

 

“Who? Oh, Spike. Yeah. I wanted to ask him something.” Xander couldn’t stop wondering about the poem.

 

 

 

“He’s out tinkering on his bike again. You can always go help.”

 

 

 

“Nah. I got up early. It’ll keep.”

 

 

 

“Take your time, Xander. It’s a good thing,” Midra said as she left the brightness of the kitchen for the dim hallway.

 

 

 

Xander shook his head, puzzled. The woman was sweet, but said strange things sometimes. With a yawn, he switched off the lights and went up to bed.

 


Chapter 19

Spike hesitated outside of Xander’s door. He could hear the human asleep inside; his heartbeat slow and even. Spike didn’t want to wake him up, but he wasn’t sleepy and his book was on the chair where he’d been reading in the sun earlier. Spike turned away, then back. He wanted his book, as he only had two chapters left. Decision made, Spike slowly pushed the door open. He heard Xander’s heart speed and his breathing quicken for two breaths.

 

“Spike?” came the sleepy voice from the bed.

 

“Yeah, mate. Sorry I woke you,” Spike stepped into the dark room and crossed to the chair.

 

“What’s up?” Xander said in fluent pillow.

 

“I just want my book. Go back to sleep.”

 

“You don’t have to.”

 

Spike picked up his book and paused. “Do what?”

 

“Read.”

 

“Well, I’m not sleepy, and it’s at a good part.”

 

Xander rolled to his side with his back to the room, and curled up around his pillow. “You can talk to me.”

 

“But you’re already asleep.”

 

“’m not. Not much.”

 

Spike chuckled. “Okay.” He sat on the chair. “What shall we talk about?”

 

Xander flopped an arm and patted the empty mattress. “Com’ ‘ere.”

 

Spike hesitated then went around the bed to sit down. “What’s up?”

 

“No,” Xander said and lifted the blanket. “Come here. Lonely.”

 

“Oh. Give me a second, let me get comfortable.”

 

“Not too comfy.”

 

“I’ll keep my hands above the covers,” Spike said with a smile.

 

“Kay.”

 

Spike took off his boots, socks, and shirt, then slid under the covers. He lay with his hands under his head and watched the ceiling fan turn. He listened as Xander’s breath deepened, but the young man did not fall asleep.

 

“Spike?” he finally said.

 

“Yeah, mate?”

 

“You said you’d tell me about Drusilla some time.”

 

Spike turned his head to look at Xander’s closed eye. “What brought this up?”

 

“Last night I was thinking about people I’ve lost. We’ve lost. Tonight, I was thinking about sex. About firsts: Anya.”

 

“I thought Faith was your first.”

 

“Yes… first sex. Not first… love making.”

 

"Why are you thinking about me and sex anyway, fancy me maybe?" Spike risked a joke.

 

"Wasn't. As if.” Xander calmly countered. “I was thinking about me and sex and the mental paths somehow crossed. Faith… Anya… you and Anya… you and… others… you and Drusilla.”

 

Spike could hear no anger or accusation in Xander’s voice when he mentioned his one time indiscretion. “I am sorry about that, Xander.”

 

“’bout what?”

 

“Anya, me, Magic Box.”

 

“Oh. It’s long over, Spike. We were on a break. ‘sides she was hot. I can’t blame you.”

 

“So, what lead you to thinking about Drusilla? You think she was my first?”

 

“I donno. Wasn’t thinking about that. I’m sure you had no trouble getting dates.”

 

Spike watched Xander breathe for a minute, wondering at the changes once more. The man wasn’t teasing or mocking. He honestly thought that. “Dru was my first,” he confessed, looking away.

 

“Really?” Xander’s eye popped open. He studied Spike’s sharp profile in the dim light.

 

“Really. It was the Victorian era, mate. I barely had any idea what a woman looked like without clothes on. If it weren’t for the woodcuts in the family bible, I would’ve had less of a clue.”

 

“Damn. You were, how old? Thirty-five?”

 

“Oi! Twenty-six. Have I ever looked thirty-five? No.”

 

Xander giggled and closed his eye. “So you died a virgin yet you teased me about how little I got in high school.”

 

“I’m evil. It had to be done.”

 

Xander blew him a raspberry. “So, Drusilla, huh?”

 

Spike sighed. “My black princess. I more than made up for a breathing life of chastity in the first month, even.”

 

“How long?”

 

“Oh, one time we shagged for maybe three days straight.”

 

“Uh. No. I mean, how long were you together?”

 

“A hundred years, off and on.”

 

“I thought you were constantly together.”

 

“No. We’d have our spats and she’d send me away. The longest we were apart was a year. But we always came back together like two strong magnets.” The pain of the loss of Dru washed up anew and he pressed it down. “Sometimes I wake up alone and my first instinct is to find Dru and make sure she’s safe.”

 

“That sucks.”

 

Spike shrugged. “It’s not so bad any more.”

 

“When’s the last time you saw her?”

 

“Three years ago. I was up in Seattle on business when I felt someone following me.”

 

++++

 

Spike had felt someone near, watching him all night. It was like an ache from a sword through his gut. It pained him, but at the same time it was oddly comforting.

 

He spent an hour at a bar, slowly sipping a drink and hoping his tail would show. When he grew impatient and left, turned toward the ocean, attempting to led his stalker into the open by the docks. Once near the water, he ducked into an alley and waited atop a heavy machinery crate some ten feet into the shadows. Finally the ache grew stronger and a well-known silhouette appeared.

 

“You can’t hide from me. The fish will always whisper where you are.”

 

Spike felt his chest tighten and he jumped down from where he’d been perched. “Drusilla!”

 

+++

 

“I didn’t think it was her dogging my steps. Don’t know why. I think maybe I didn’t want to be let down when it wasn’t her.”

 

Xander could hear the longing in his voice.

 

+++

 

She glided down the dank alley towards him. “Did you bring me here because of our first date? Such a pretty boy you were. Effulgent.”

 

Spike stepped toward her, his hand out in the courtly gesture they’d always shared, but she wrapped her arms tightly about her black corseted bosoms and turned away with a pout. “Dru…” he said softly over the tightness in his throat.

 

“You’re effulgent again. You went and found it. Wrestled it from the ether for her. You swallowed it down and now it chokes you like the fog you were born in.”

 

“Yeah. It does, princess.”

 

“Not your princess.” She turned sad eyes on his slumped shoulders. “First Daddy, then you. Grandmummy came back and I was her mummy, then she left again. It was her sent me to you. And you, bad boy, played and gave me hope.” Drusilla was suddenly before him, glaring up into his face with all the spite she had.

 

+++

 

“She mocked me for getting a soul. For getting it for Buffy. She reminded me that Angel had left her when he got his, too. Poor Drusilla. All alone in the world. Truth be told, I was surprised she was still around. Pleased, but surprised. She gave me one of her cryptic warnings about Angel. I tried to tell him about it, but he never put as much store in her powers of seeing as I do. Stupid bloody fool never listens.”

 

Xander wondered again about the rift between them, but that was a conversation for another night. Spike closed his eyes, forced out a breath, then continued.

 

+++

 

Spike looked into her eyes and once more saw the spark of the woman he loved under the evil and the madness. He reached for her as they had always reached for one another. “My princess…”

 

She hissed and her carefully painted nails dug deep furrows into his cheek. “Don’t, Spike! I asked you once to return to me and you held wood to my chest. She’s gone now, left you for cinders, and you’re all alone. Tried to play with Daddy like I did, but he’s gone, too.”

 

Spike ignored the blood running down his cheek and dripping onto his coat. He easily translated Dru’s babble. “Angel’s not gone. I saw him last week.”

 

“Daddy’s gone. Never coming back. Angelus is finally caged.”

 

He learned long ago to respect her visions. “What are you saying, Luv?”

 

“He doesn’t want to play vampire games any more. He wants to play house and own a doggie.” She giggled and whirled away. “He wants to play house with a doggie.”

 

“His girl? The werewolf?”

 

“Yeah. Only I know the secret.” She pouted again and plucked at her skirts.

 

“Tell me, Luv,” Spike coaxed. “If you care even a little?”

 

“If he doesn’t let the demon out for a run, the demon will take him out for a run.”

 

Spike pondered this. “If he ignores his nature?”

 

Drusilla nodded and her mad laugh bubbled up, sending a tingle down Spike’s spine. “The stars tell me. Something less than Angelus will kill daddy.”

 

“Oh,” Spike put this away. “Dru. Where have you been?”

 

“Everywhere. Children don’t taste the same everywhere. Remember Spike?”

 

Spike clenched his fists in his pockets at the upsurge of his soul. He looked away from her. “Yeah. In India they’re sharp from the spices on their skin.”

 

“In America they’re sluggish like lard from all the sugar. Remember the games, Spike? All the pretty, pretty games? The orphanage where we got some watchers too?”

 

Spike nodded, then lashed out at the crate beside him. It exploded into splinters and bubble wrap. Without realizing it, he snatched a broken board and clenched it in his fist until blood dripped from it.

 

+++

 

“She reminded me of all the bloody, horrific fun we used to have. The innocents we corrupted together.” Spike paused and Xander studied his profile. “A part of me, Xander, wanted it back. Bloody hell, even after all the gnawing from my soul I just didn’t want to be lonely any more. A mad part of my mind wondered how much more evil I would have to do before my soul gave up and left me in peace. Or left me entirely.”

 

+++

 

Drusilla waltzed over to him and lifted his shaking hand to her lips. Their eyes met as she licked the blood from his knuckles before holding the stake between them with a point at either end pressing their chests. Slowly, she licked her lips. “My Spike. My bold knight. You never really left me, did you? Come kiss me and let our dust mingle as our lips meet.”

 

Spike raised his other hand and pressed it to her cheek. “Dru, you mad thing, it would only kill me and not you. Your point’s not over your heart.”

 

“Oh,” she pouted. “It doesn’t beat, so I forget.”

 

Spike stepped back slightly and tossed the stake away. He pulled her into his arms before she could protest. Their hands were everywhere as they pushed at each other’s clothing. Spike wrapped his long fingers around her tiny waist and carried her to the rough wall. With remembered ease, he navigated under her complicated skirts and thrust inside her. She wept into his shoulder-length hair as he morphed to the demon and bit her neck, tasting again the blood of his sire.

 

He tasted youth and vigor and knew she’d killed a child this very night. He reached a hand down to where their bodies joined and twisted her clit in the way he well knew. She screamed and bit into his neck as they both came, feeding on the shared pleasure and angst.

 

Spike’s chest heaved as he met Drusilla’s still-yellow eyes. “You taste like sunshine, Spike,” she said sadly. “When I was a little girl, I liked to hold flowers to my cheeks and lick the pollen from my fingers. That’s gone.”

 

Spike let his softening cock slip from inside her. He placed her gently on her feet. He found his cast off t-shirt and carefully cleaned his emissions from her thighs. Reverently, he placed a kiss at her moist center and lowered her skirts, soothing them over her narrow hips. He re-pinned a lock of her hair and rubbed a bit of blood from her chin before pressing his forehead to hers.

 

“Drusilla. You will always be in my heart.”

 

“And your soul.”

 

“Yes. In my soul. I do admit there are times I wish I could cast it aside and go back to our days of play…”

 

“But you never will. I tried to ignore the stars but they’re too loud.”

 

Spike pulled back. “Good bye, Dru,” he said softly. He took one last in her mad brown eyes, at the woman he loved once last time, then picked up his coat and headed back to the empty room he was calling home.

 

+++++

 

“I couldn’t resist and I had her again, up against the wall, with all the passion and blood of the old days. God, it’d been so long. I should have killed her. I knew it was the just and right thing to do, but I’ve never been a sodding white hat. I loved her too much. Sometimes I hear news reports of missing children and wonder just where in the world she is. Feel bloody rotten about it, but I could never kill the one person who ever so totally loved me. Makes me feel like maybe one day I could be loved like that again.”

 

Xander knew that emptiness, the desire to be with a lost lover again. He envied Spike this opportunity which he could never have.

 

Spike heard Xander sniffle and looked over at him. He caught the warm brown eye brimming with tears before the big man rolled over and out of bed. “Be right back, gotta pee,” he muttered.

 

Spike rubbed the heel of his hand over his eyes, dashing away the tears there. Damn the boy for stirring things up. Still, it was good to have someone to talk to about such things. Hell, at this rate, I should maybe refund part of my pay… Nah.

 

Xander went to the bathroom and closed the door. He looked himself in the eye and considered what he’d heard. Spike is lonely, as lonely as I am. For some reason, he had never considered this. Since he’d come back, he hadn’t seen any signs that the vampire was anything but happy in his role of lone wolf soldier for hire. Xander felt his stomach do a little flip, but pushed any notion of an idea of that flavor away. Spike is my friend, my pal, my fighting partner, nothing else. Xander blew his nose, relieved himself, and looked himself in the eye as he washed his hands. Just like Anthony was… Xander’s brow bunched angrily and he snapped off the light, ridding himself of the treacherous Xander who was feeding him such comparisons before memories of the lean body pinned beneath him earlier could resurface.

 

When Xander came back, the bedside light was on and Spike was sitting against the headboard with his book open before him.

 

Wordlessly, Xander climbed into bed and made himself comfortable with his back to the vampire without looking at him. After fifteen minutes passed and Spike still hadn’t turned a page, Xander rolled over and sat up. He looked Spike straight in the eye. “You don’t have to wake up alone if you don’t want to,” he said in an almost commanding tone.

 

“Yeah?”

 

“Yeah. You can stay in here with me if you want. If I want to be alone, I’ll tell you and you do the same. The bed’s big enough and it doesn’t mean anything other than camaraderie, okay?” Xander babbled.

 

“Thanks, Xander.”

 

Xander abruptly turned his back again and pulled up the covers. “Don’t thank me.” He said briskly. “I’m being selfish for once. I'd been meaning to ask you if you wanted to stay once in a while. I just remembered to.” He fluffed his pillow and settled down. “And keep those cold feet off of me!”

 

“Yes, Xander." Spike happily picked up his book to read for real. "Dear.”

 


Chapter 20

Xander awoke to find a reassuring weight at his back. From shoulder to hip, Spike was pressed against him, with the smaller man’s spine fitting below his. He closed his eye again, unwillingly comparing this body with another’s. In the caverns it was safest to watch one another’s backs, even when asleep.

 

 

 

Xander let out a great sigh and pushed nostalgia aside. He noticed the newness of Spike’s body. He wasn’t as bony as Anthony and not even near as tall. Spike tended to breathe in his sleep which was something Anthony did only if dreaming, and that was rarely in Xander’s experience. Inwardly, he laughed to himself. Two years he’d known Anthony, and only one of them had they been… together. How could that be considered any great length of experience?

 

 

 

Xander frowned in annoyance at his morning wood that twitched happily at the reflected warmth and comfortable presence. Go away, you. That’s not him. it can never be him. His erection twitched again, throbbing the message that it didn’t care, it would like some of that lean muscular body and nicely dimpled cheeks anyway. Shut up. That’s not the agreement we have and Spike would run for the hills if I suggested it. A throb and a drip said what if he doesn’t? I... We don’t have that kind of relationship. Can’t go there. Besides, I miss Anthony. His erection told him to move on already or at least get some.

 

 

 

Behind him, Spike shifted, pressing his buttocks closer. With a shock, Xander realized Spike had removed his pants some time in the night. His firm ass pressed against his own. Xander’s cock bounced happily as of having had its argument proved right. Xander lay still, hoping Spike would just go back to sleep.

 

 

 

Spike lay still for a few minutes, then moved, shifting as if to roll over. Xander had a sudden vision of Spike’s own morning wood being presented to him, or even worse pressed against him. Xander tossed aside the warm covers and dashed for the bathroom.

 

 

 

Spike rolled over and caught a glimpse of Xander’s bare buttocks disappearing into the bathroom. “You okay, Whelp?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. Fine.”

 

 

 

Spike frowned and stretched. His hand encountered a moist place on the sheets. He grinned and brought his fingers to his nose. Xander’s arousal exploded in his predator’s senses. Spike moved his other had to his own hard cock. Norwegian wood, isn’t it good? Poor boy was being all shy. He stroked himself teasingly and waited to see if the man would shower and wank off or just suppress, come back, get dressed, and leave real quick.

 

 

 

He listened to Xander brushing his teeth, relieving himself, and washing his hands. To his surprise, Xander walked back in still naked with his manhood proudly hanging free and sat on the bed on top of the covers with his back against the headboard. “Morning, Spike.”

 

 

 

“Morning.” Spike felt his own erection give up the challenge and fade away. “What’s on your busy agenda today?”

 

 

 

“Nothing definite. I think I’m going to talk to Giles today.”

 

 

 

“He’ll like that, Xander. I think he was starting to feel slighted.”

 

 

 

Xander blushed. “It’s awkward, Spike.”

 

 

 

“Didn’t you part on good terms?”

 

 

 

“Oh, the best. It’s just… I’m different now. I’m a different person. What I’ve done…”

 

 

 

Spike sat up and glared at him. “You really think that the man sometimes known as Ripper will turn his back on you for surviving? I can’t believe you still view him as a mild mannered shopkeeper. I know you’ve seen the fire in those eyes.”

 

 

 

Xander picked up Spike’s pillow and hugged it. “You’re right. I know you are.”

 

 

 

Spike felt a twinge of jealousy for the pillow being pressed to Xander’s body. “Of course I am. Call him today.”

 

 

 

“I will. Thanks.” Xander looked away from where the blanket had slid low on Spike’s body, revealing his smooth chest and that wonderful line at the bottom of the abdominal muscles that point downwards… “Did you finish your book last night?”

 

 

 

Spike smirked as he watched Xander flounder. Oh, yes. Biology will win out if nothing else. “Yeah, I did. Thank you for the book on motorcycles, by the way.”

 

 

 

“I want to look at it some time if I could.”

 

 

 

“Of course you can, Xander. Mi libre es tu libre,” he pigeoned.

 

 

 

“Thanks.” Xander was still looking anywhere but at Spike and he kept the pillow clutched to himself. “I like the new laptop, but I had trouble finding any naked pictures.”

 

 

 

“I’m sure Willow deleted them all off the hard drive.”

 

 

 

“Huh?” Xander gawped at him.

 

 

 

“Joke. Kidding. The Osborne’s aren’t into kinky porn.”

 

 

 

“Spike! Don’t even joke like that! They’re my friends!”

 

 

 

“They’re an earth witch and a werewolf,” Spike shrugged. “Deny what you will.”

 

 

 

“Grumble. Stop that.”

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “So you want naked pictures? Of anyone in particular?”

 

 

 

“Well, I was looking for Seven of Nine…”

 

 

 

“Is the child lock on?” Spike tossed aside the covers and watched as Xander quickly looked away. Oh well, maybe I’ll wear the boy down. Then again, I really don’t want to mess up what we’ve got. Whatever it is. Spike slipped on his jeans.

 

 

 

“What’s that?”

 

 

 

Spike pulled on his discarded jeans and crossed to the computer, conveniently keeping his back turned to the man so he could put some pants on. “Keeps nasty and naked things from popping up in image search. Must protect the kiddies.”

 

 

 

“Um, I don’t know.”

 

 

 

Xander logged on and Spike started sharing computer tips and passing on some of his favorite URL’s. Xander quickly relaxed and marveled at Spike’s computer knowledge.

 

Soon, they were searching for strange things and laughing at the results like teenagers.

 

 

 

Jokingly, Spike typed in “skinny guys” and the screen filled with images of boney men, many in obscene situations. “Funny, Spike.”

 

 

 

He shrugged. “I thought so.” Then he saw Xander’s embarrassment. So the man wasn’t completely out yet. “You know, the Internet is a good place to look for song lyrics, too.”

 

 

 

“And poetry.”

 

 

 

“You were looking for something in particular? I noticed your Donne’s poems among the comic books.”

 

 

 

“They’re graphic novels, thank you very much, and I was looking for something.”

 

 

 

“Collect a bunch of comic books and put them in one cover doesn’t change what they are. What were you looking for?” Spike’s long fingers poised over the keys, ready to fill in the empty search field.

 

 

 

“You seemed to enjoy reading them. I was looking for the source of the apology poem.”

 

 

 

“I do like them if you must know. I was just mad back then because you wouldn’t let me read any of them you had in plastic. What’s an apology poem?”

 

 

 

“Too often between brothers a word wounds more deeply than a sword,” quoted Xander.

 

 

 

“Oh.” Spike’s hand’s slipped to his lap. “That’s... that’s an obscure poet. He didn’t publish much.”

 

 

 

“Huh. I like it and wanted to read more. What’s his name?”

 

 

 

“You won’t find him on the net,” Spike said quickly.

 

 

 

“Well, unless it’s a huge conspiracy, I’d still like to know.”

 

 

 

“William Aurelius,” Spike mumbled.

 

 

 

“That’s an unusual last name,” Xander pulled the laptop over in front of himself.

 

 

 

“Hey! Do you know about Live Journal? Lots of cool porn there. All the fan fic you can stand.”

 

 

 

“How would you spell that? A r e l i o s? No. Why does it sound familiar?”

 

 

 

Spike sighed and spelled it out. He watched as Xander hit enter and the results filled the screen. Among the entries for Marcus Aurelius was a listing for “the family tree of Angelus of the line of Aurelius.”

 

 

 

Xander looked over at Spike. “That’s where I’ve seen it. Angel is a poet?”

 

 

 

“No.” Spike got up and went to the comfy, sunny chair. He picked up another of the colorful graphic novels and flipped through it.

 

 

 

Xander gave him a puzzled look and clicked on the link. After reading a few lines he called out to Spike, “Hey, these people know a lot about Angel!”

 

 

 

“Associates of Wolfram & Hart,” Spike explained. “For a while he kept getting it taken down, but they’d just put it up again.” His fingers tightened on the book as he hoped Xander wouldn’t read much more.

 

 

 

“So are you part of his tale?”

 

 

 

“Family, aren’t I?” he muttered.

 

 

 

Xander scrolled down, paused when he found Spike’s name and read some of the early entries. “Ew! You did not feed off an orphanage?”

 

 

 

“Which time?”

 

 

 

Xander turned and looked at him, admittedly a bit shocked. “1889?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. That was mostly Dru and Angelus, but I helped.”

 

 

 

“I think this site is not what I’m looking for.”

 

 

 

“Who wants to know about the poof anyway? Want me to show you Live Journal now?”

 

 

 

“No. Later.” He looked at the list of bloody exploits and remembered something. He searched the page for the name William and there it was.

 

 

 

“London, 1880: A young gentleman named William Blooden was turned by Drusilla. Little is known about his life prior to becoming the vampire known first as William the Bloody and later as Spike. Records show he earned high marks at Cambridge in Classical Studies and Foreign Languages. For two years he served as editor of the monthly student-published booklet ‘The Shield’ that collected submissions of poetry and essays.”

 

 

 

“You wrote it,” Xander said softly. “You wrote me a piece of poetry.”

 

 

 

Spike put down the book. Now that he’d been outed, he may as well take the mockery Xander would dish out. “I did.”

 

 

 

Xander turned to look at him. “Wow. You’ve been published, too?”

 

 

 

Spike shrugged. “Here and there over the years. Never anything much.”

 

 

 

“That’s cool, Spike,” Xander grinned.

 

 

 

“Wait. You think it’s cool that I write poetry as a hobby?”

 

 

 

Xander came over and sat on the end of the seat. “Sure. It’s hard to write. I admit I tried a few times, and Anthony was encouraging, but…” Xander trailed off and chewed on a nail. “I can’t do it. Thanks for writing me something.”

 

 

 

Spike tilted his head at the suddenly shy man. “I didn’t know how else to say I was sorry.”

 

 

 

“It worked.”

 

 

 

“Hey Xander.”

 

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

 

“You tell anyone and I’ll have to slowly kill you.”

 

 

"Fair enough."

 


Chapter 22

Xander glanced over at the computer and chewed his lip for a minute. Spike wanted to know about Anthony and Xander saw no reason to not tell him. “Anthony would have loved the Internet. It’s got anything you want to hear or see. Any painting, any book almost.” Xander laughed. “He would have me describe technological things they mentioned in the novels we read. He wanted to know how they worked.” He shifted and sat at Spike’s feet with his back against the wall. “Sometimes I felt like I was trying to tell a blind man about color.”

 

 

 

“You said he’d been captive for forty years?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. They barely had television back then.” Spike knew this was wrong, but let it pass.

 

 

 

Xander stared at the laptop until Spike was afraid that was all he’d get this time. He risked a little prompting. “From what you say he was native African and educated. Was his learning after he became a vampire?”

 

 

 

“No. Before. He didn’t talk about his life much, but I pieced it together over the years. Anthony grew up in the home of an English land owner. He was the Nanny’s son and almost same age as the gentleman’s twins. Almost by accident, he got the same education they did. What lessons he didn’t manage to overhear, the boys shared with him. When they were sent to university, he went with them as their manservant.”

 

 

 

“He was very fortunate,” Spike put in softly.

 

 

 

“He was. He really was. When ‘the young gentlemen,’ as he always called them, graduated, Anthony was sent back to Africa. There he served as a clerk for the land owner. When he turned twenty-five, DeAmeron showed up.”

 

 

 

“I’m gathering it wasn’t a snatch and turn.”

 

 

 

“A what?”

 

 

 

“You need a minion, so you find a strong looking person and turn them with a ‘hello’ or ‘how are you,’” Spike explained.

 

 

 

“No. Not like that. Anthony was… seduced.”

 

 

 

“I’ve heard DeAmeron was slick like that. Never met the man myself. Angelus didn’t like him, at all, which made me wish I could’ve.”

 

 

 

“I didn’t get to talk to him, but I saw him once. He was a very attractive man.” The use of the past tense was not lost on Spike. “Did you ever see the Frank Langella Dracula movie?”

 

 

 

“Piece of dreck.”

 

 

 

“Mostly, yeah, but make Langella a bit taller and a bit… less angular and you’ve got DeAmeron. From what Anthony told me, DeAmeron told him stories of places he could visit. He pointed out how little future there was for a black man in the world.” Xander crossed his arms, pausing in his story. Then he blew out a breath and said almost under his breath, “Then he slept with him.”

 

 

 

Spike wasn’t very surprised. “When did he tell him he was a vampire?”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “I don’t know. He said they traveled together for a year before DeAmeron sired him. I… I don’t know the circumstances. Anthony may have been joking, but he implied it was quite… romantic.”

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “I’ve heard stories of humans being willingly turned. Usually it all turns out bad.”

 

 

 

“Apparently, they were quite happy together.” Xander fiddled unhappily with the stack of books, evening up their corners. “Can I ask you something, Spike?”

 

 

 

“Sure.”

 

 

 

“Were you turned willingly? I mean, you and Drusilla were together for along long time.”

 

 

 

Spike expected a question about how vampires sired someone, not why. “Oh, me. Let’s say we were of very short acquaintance and she caught me while… vulnerable to suggestion.”

 

 

 

“So she chose you?”

 

 

 

“Well, the voices in her head did at least,” Spike chuckled. “You have to admit, I make a fine choice in any case.”

 

 

 

“None finer,” Xander mocked and looked away again.

 

 

 

Spike didn’t want him to close up. “So how did Anthony wind up a slaver’s pet?” he asked softly.

 

 

 

“He heard about the death of the land owner and wanted to go back and see the young gentlemen once more. DeAmeron had some kind of business to tend to so he didn’t go. Anthony figures there was someone on the ship watching for his kind. A soon as he stepped on land, he was magiked asleep. He woke up in the caverns much like I did.”

 

 

 

“That sucks.”

 

 

 

“Hell, yeah. Because he was a vampire, they threw him right into the kill, or be killed, fights. It was hard on him at first. He didn’t change much when he was turned from what I understand. Not like you.”

 

 

 

Spike coughed. “I’ve always been bad. I woke up evil with Drusilla smiling down at me. My demon turned me mean right off. Of course, I had a loony for a sire and a maniac for a mentor. DeAmeron was a gentleman by all accounts.”

 

 

 

“Nature verses nurture?”

 

 

 

“Probably.” Spike turned the conversation back to Anthony. “What did he do?”

 

 

 

“So he had to learn how to fight. Obviously, he was the best. He then set his sights on escape. After he found all the chinks in their security, they cursed him.” Xander sighed. “At least I got to go to other arenas once in a while.”

 

 

 

“Really? We thought it was all in one place.”

 

 

 

“Oh, hell no. I was taken to five other arenas. Three in caves, two in big buildings, and another in the middle of fucking nowhere. They knocked us out all the time so all I ever saw was the inside of the truck and the arenas.”

 

 

 

“This is the kind of information we need,” Spike smiled.

 

 

 

“Good.” Xander stood, went to his table and took an apple from the bowl. He bit into it angrily. “I’ve got a son of a bitch I want to kill real slow.”

 

 

 

“If you need any help with that, I’m your man. Well, vamp.”

 

 

 

Xander studied Spike, seeing the earnestness in his expression. “What’s your beef with him?”

 

 

 

“He takes good men and women like you and enslaves them. What more reason do I need?”

 

 

 

“Nothing.” Xander sat down again and stared out the window. “He was a good man, even if he was a vampire, Spike. The killing and the captivity drove him a little mad, I think, but as we started to talk, he… I think he came back to himself. Like he was before.”

 

 

 

“Sometimes all it takes is good company,” Spike murmured.

 

 

 

They sit companionably as Xander finishes his apple and tosses the core into the trash can in a neat arc. Spike has many questions, but lets his friend continue at his own pace.

 

 

 

“Were you a snarky guy, Spike? The website said you were a scholar.”

 

 

 

“Most often the demon’s nature will have it’s way. I have known a number of vamps who remained… rather human,” Spike said without really answering. “Then again, I normally didn’t get to know folks before they were sired.”

 

 

 

“Have you sired many vamps, Spike?”

 

 

 

Spike looked away out the window. Xander braced himself for a high number. He wasn’t sure why he’d asked. “I don’t know how many I… created while under the power of the first. They just kept coming out of the dirt in that basement.”

 

 

 

Xander shifted uncomfortably at being reminded of the dark time they both shared. “You never did otherwise?”

 

 

 

Spike shrugged. “Not that many, honestly. Drusilla always enjoyed it, so I let her make the minions. Later, when I came back to Sunnyhell, it was easier to just recruit fledges.”

 

 

 

“Huh.”

 

 

 

“Why do you ask?”

 

 

 

“Sometimes they’d have Anthony sire vamps for the fighting. They never had many around at anyone time.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Is there any evil these people don’t get into?”

 

 

 

“No. I don’t want to tell Oz, but they’d stage werewolf fights like back alley dog fights.”

 

 

 

“Bastards,” Spike spit.

 

 

 

Xander continued softly. “There are more horrors in this world than Sunnydale ever hinted at, Spike.”

 

 

 

Spike stood up, put the stack of books on the floor and put his arm around Xander. “I’m sorry you had to see them, mate.”

 

 

 

“Thanks, Spike,” Xander sniffled, leaning into Spike’s support.

 

 

 

A knock at the door a few minutes later startled them both. “It’s Willow,” Spike muttered, not moving.

 

 

 

“Come in,” Xander called.

 

 

 

“Xander, would you like…” Willow trailed off as he opened the door and saw the two shirtless men sitting together.

 

 

 

“What?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

Spike snickered and moved back to the end of the couch.

 

 

 

“I can go…”

 

 

 

“Will?” Xander blinked and looked over at a smirking Spike. “Oh, no! Willow we’re not… I mean…”

 

 

 

“Xander here was telling tales of the dark and awful times, Red. I was doing my job.”

 

 

 

“Oh, Sure. I’m sorry.” Willow sputtered. “I mean, there’s nothing wrong if you guys… well… I thought…”

 

 

 

Xander blushed. “You came to ask me something?”

 

 

 

“Oh! Yes! In half an hour Giles wants to tell us all something on the web cam! Would you like some breakfast first?”

 

 

 

“Breakfast? Hell, yes!”

 


Chapter 22

“You came to ask me something?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“Oh! Yes!" Willow pulled herself together, still looking at the half-dressed men who were sitting so close. "In half an hour Giles wants to tell us all something on the web cam! Would you like some breakfast first?”

 

 

 

“Breakfast? Hell, yes!”

 

 

 

“Do you still like waffles?”

 

 

 

“I do indeed!”

 

 

 

Willow smiled and left. Xander bounced to his feet and started digging for a shirt. Spike grabbed up his own shirt and found his boots.

 

 

 

Spike was pleased to see Xander snap out of his blue mood brought on by talking about Anthony. As much as he wanted to know more about the mysterious vampire who had apparently been so close to his friend, he wanted Xander to go on living, too.

 

 

 

Xander pulled on a plain blue t-shirt and ran a brush through his hair too quickly. “Damn,” he cursed when it caught and snagged.

 

 

 

“Slow down,” Spike chuckled. “It’s only waffles.”

 

 

 

“No it’s...” Xander sighed and closed his eye for a second. “It’s Giles. I want to see Giles.”

 

 

 

“I know. He wants to see you, too.”

 

 

 

Xander started brushing his hair carefully. “I wonder what his news is.”

 

 

 

“Either the pretty shopkeeper in the village finally went out with him or it has something to do with his book.” Spike finished lacing his boots and stood up. “Do you want me to braid it? I can get it done quicker than you.”

 

 

 

“I think you just can’t resist my lovely locks, but I am hungry and want to get down there before Gunn finishes off the peach preserves again.”

 

 

 

“That’s right,” Spike said as he pushed Xander to a chair and sat him down. “You keep telling yourself I can’t keep my hands off you if it makes you feel better.”

 

 

 

Xander fell silent and let himself enjoy being touched. Spike’s hands were deft and sure. “I would hire pleasers… um… pleasure slaves and just have them tend my hair sometimes. At first they thought I was strange because I would hire someone and then not have sex with them, just hold them or have them braid my hair. When they learned I never abused anyone and paid what was fair, they fought for the privilege to come to my quarters. Sometimes literally.”

 

 

 

Spike caught the shadings of self-depreciation and surprise at this attention in Xander’s words. “You’re a good man, after all. It doesn’t surprise me.”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “All this was after Anthony died, that is. He taught me how to braid it right.”

 

 

 

Spike could well understand anyone falling for this strong, intelligent man. He carefully said nothing to mock the emotion in Xander’s voice. “We vampires are very sensual creatures.”

 

 

 

“Don’t you mean sensuous?”

 

 

 

Spike smiled. “That, too. Touch, sight, smell, hearing, all very keen.”

 

 

 

“But not taste,” Xander observed.

 

 

 

“No. Taste is dulled. That’s why I like spicy and textured foods and why some vampires don’t eat at all.”

 

 

 

“You’re unusual in that you eat, aren’t you?”

 

 

 

“Why do you say that?”

 

 

 

“Angel doesn’t. Anthony didn’t. The few other fighters I got to know a bit never did. Why is that?”

 

 

 

“You sure are asking a lot about me lately.”

 

 

 

“I’ve had a lot of time to think about things and no real way to research them. Do you mind?”

 

 

 

“No. To be blunt, it’s the whole getting rid of the food later part that puts most of them off.”

 

 

 

“Ew!”

 

 

 

Spike laughed. “You asked, I told. Most are snobs about leaving behind the burdens of having a human body,” he said in a pompous manner. “I could care less one way or another.”

 

 

 

Spike handed the end of the long, tight braid to Xander, who stood and picked up a rubber band from the dresser to tie it off. He looked into the standing mirror to admire Spike’s work. “This looks great, Spike. I can never get it this even.”

 

 

 

“Dru loved for me to spend hours playing with her hair. We would get trapped in some little, dark corner and sometimes it was only thing that would calm her and keep her still. Now let’s go capture some sweets for ourselves.”

 

 

They all laughed and joked through breakfast. Everyone was buzzing with anticipation of Giles’ news.

 

 

Willow glanced at the clock and got to her feet. “Time to dial the Giles.” She paused by Xander’s chair and leaned over to speak quietly in his ear. “You want to come in and say hi first?”

 

 

 

Xander breathed in the green apple scent of his friend’s hair. “That’d be good.”

 

 

 

Willow patted his shoulder. “Wait here, people,” she said to the crowd. “I’ll send for you in a minute.”

 

 

 

Spike raised an eyebrow at Xander who shook his head slightly. Spike knew he would be okay talking to his old friend.

 

 

 

In the study, Willow positioned Xander outside the camera’s sight. Xander watched his friend’s confident fingers fly over the keyboard. She looked up at him with a grin and tapped a final key. “Hey, Giles! How’s everything?”

 

 

 

“All is well, Willow.” Xander’s throat tightened at the sound of his friend’s voice. “Where is everyone else?”

 

 

 

“I thought you might want to talk to one of them alone.” She smiled and motioned Xander to the chair.

 

 

 

He sat down and saw Giles on the flat screen monitor. A small screen within the picture showed himself. He barely noticed as Willow slipped out and closed the door behind herself. “Hey, Giles,” he said softly.

 

 

 

“Xander,” the older man said, his voice full of wonder and affection. “It is you.”

 

 

 

“Well, me from another dimension, maybe. I’m not quite like I was.”

 

 

 

Giles smiled. Xander suddenly noticed how the left side of his lips did not lift as much as the right and how gray his hair now was. “Nor am I, dear boy. It is so damned good to see you. I feared…” There was a slight slurring in the once crisp voice.

 

 

 

“I once was lost, but now I’m found,” Xander quoted.

 

 

 

Giles chuckled. “By Spike of all people.”

 

 

 

“It shocked the hell out of me to see my savior was a pompous, fancied up vampire.”

 

 

 

“He does fall uncomfortably well into the German cover, I must say.” Giles fell silent, just looking at the face of his one-time ward, fighting companion, clown, carpenter.

 

 

 

“So… you quit the council.”

 

 

 

Giles sighed. “I couldn’t take the pace and the losses any more, Xander. I remained on the board as a consultant. I made sure they never stopped looking for you.”

 

 

 

“I appreciate that, very much.”

 

 

 

“Had it been anyone but Spike, I would have suspected the pictures were faked.” Xander winced inwardly. He’d forgotten the photographs Spike had taken of him in chains on the slave ship. “It was lucky you were brought here to be sold.”

 

 

 

Xander shook his head. “There was no luck there. I paid for the privilege to be sold off that particular ship.”

 

 

 

Giles blinked and looked like he wished for glasses to polish. “How does that work? Couldn’t you buy your own freedom?”

 

 

 

“And take their profit? No,” Xander answered flatly.

 

 

 

“I’m so sorry, Xander. So very terribly sorry.”

 

 

 

“What ever for?”

 

 

 

“For sending you to Africa. I had other, better-trained--”

 

 

 

“Giles, Giles,” Xander cut him off. “They were more needed there. And I wanted to go, to get as far away from… everything as I could, remember? I didn’t want to be gone six years, but it happens.”

 

 

 

“I know, but…” Giles was dabbing his face with a familiar handkerchief.

 

 

 

“Giles. Watcher man! Listen. I don’t blame you. I never blamed you in the least. I’ve missed you and… I love you.”

 

 

 

“Xander…” Giles’ British mask slipped. “I love you, too, Xander. Welcome home.”

 

 

 

“You’ll get your too-firm hug whenever I see you. Okay?”

 

 

 

“That will be very nice. I… I sent out your pack the other day. I don’t get around as well as I once did… and it was my first opportunity.”

 

 

 

“I’d forgotten about that.” Xander pictured his battered blue backpack that had accompanied him across Africa for a year. “How… how did you wind up with it?”

 

 

 

“The address on the ID tag was for my rooms at council headquarters. You had no other one to use, remember? I made sure the hotel returned it to me intact. I went through it looking for clues as to where you may have… disappeared. That, and I took out any food or anything that may have started to smell. I sent your paperwork to your parents. Otherwise, it’s all there.”

 

 

 

Xander chuckled. “I can’t even remember what’s in there. My first months of captivity, I would wish for that pack and all the simple conveniences it held; clean clothes, a book to read, my little radio…”

 

 

 

“It should arrive soon. I’ve put a few things in the box for everyone as well, if you don’t mind distributing them.”

 

 

 

“Thank you for looking out for my mother, Giles. She told me how you kept her informed.”

 

 

 

“I was glad to. She’s a good woman. If there is anything I can ever do for you, Xander, do not hesitate to ask me.”

 

 

 

“Same here, Giles. Same here.” Xander realized he had tears running down his own cheeks. He grabbed a tissue form a box nearby. “You had some news?”

 

 

 

“Yes! I want to tell everyone at once. I… Thank you for talking to me, Xander.”

 

 

 

“I feel bad I put it off, but…”

 

 

 

“It’s fine, my good man. Just fine.”

 

 

 

“I’ll get Willow to put a camera on the laptop she gave me last night and we’ll talk some more.”

 

 

 

“What happened to the good old fashioned telephone?” Giles mourned.

 

 

 

“We can talk that way, too. Whatever you want.” Xander sighed. “I wish I could hug you.”

 

 

 

“That would be most welcome, Xander.” Giles smiled his crooked, but still charming smile. “Why don’t you fetch the others before we start messaging little hearts to one another?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, that would be best,” Xander blew him a kiss and called the others in.

 

 

 

There was much laughing and jockeying for position around the office computer and Gunn’s laptop that he turned on in the living room.

 

 

 

“If you are all quite settled?” Giles’ familiar stern tone cut through the chatter. After a few pokes and giggles, everyone was satisfied they were nicely in frame in their own window.

 

 

 

“What is it, Giles?” Xander asked, noticing the bunny ear fingers Spike was holding up behind his head.

 

 

 

“I would like to announce that my novel ‘The Dark Beyond the Moon’ has been purchased by Doubleday books.”

 

 

 

In the celebratory chaos that followed, a vase was knocked over, a cookie dropped to the carpet and crushed, a chair tipped over, many hugs, and much laugher rang out.

 

 

 

Giles sat alone in his far away home, enjoying the happiness of his friends while wishing he were there among them. A chorus of “Ew!” rang over the speaker when Xander leaned in to give the camera a pretend open-mouth smooch. The call finally ended with promises of copies for everyone and an extra smile from Xander.

 

 

 

Giles pulled the blanket back around his shoulders and hugged himself. As much as he had prayed for it, he was still amazed that Xander Harris was alive and apparently still sane. A year after his disappearance, there had been a lead pointing to the slave rings. He had investigated it as best he could at the time. It was his actions as head of the council that had established the on-going investigations that he hoped would bring down the ring.

 

 

 

With a sigh, he levered himself to his feet. He couldn’t stay seated so long any more. He hobbled to the mantel piece and looked at the picture framed there. Willow had gotten a camera for her birthday and wanted to try out the timer. She had set it on the balcony at the library and shooed them into place. He stood indulgently behind his newly acquired pack of would-be demon hunters. Buffy had a bright, pretty-girl smile on cheeks that were not yet gaunt with worry. Willow beamed as she slung an arm around Xander. Xander had been caught with is mouth open as he cracked yet another joke. Giles studied the warm brown eyes partly hidden behind too-long hair.

 

 

 

He still held a position of consultant to the council and, as such, read the reports sent there. He knew some of the horrors the man had faced. Giles clenched his fist at he thought. His only comfort was Spike who had made a promise to land a blow in his name on the body of the man responsible for it all.

 


Chapter 23

When the impromptu celebration over the sell of Giles’ book died down, Gunn put a hand on Xander’s arm.

 

 

 

“Do you have a little time? It would be good to get some more paperwork out of the way.”

 

 

 

Xander hesitated. Even with all the fun and good news, his mind was still on Anthony and he wanted to talk to Spike some more. He looked to his friend.

 

 

 

Spike could see the tension in Xander’s eye and the way he held himself. “Will it take long?” he asked.

 

 

 

“Half an hour. Plus, I think we can set up the bank accounts so Xander can easily get his back pay once the council gets its ass in gear.”

 

 

 

“Back pay?” Xander asked. “Why would I get back pay?”

 

 

 

Gunn grinned. “Well, you’ve been doing undercover research for us for five years, haven’t you? Now, if that isn’t enough, we can sue the council, the government of Africa, and the manager of the hotel where you were staying.”

 

 

 

Xander could only gape. Spike chuckled. “I told you Charlie boy is the best. Let’s give the man his time, then we can continue our discussion of astronauts and cavemen.”

 

 

 

“Man, you did not dig that up again!” Gunn said as he sat down at his computer.

 

 

 

Two hours later, Xander’s head was reeling with passwords, a probable lump sum to be deposited in the next week, and the amount Spike transferred into his account from the sell of the jewels. He walked to the kitchen in a daze and sat at the table.

 

 

 

Midra looked him over and cast a disapproving eye toward the office. “That man of mine has no sense of scale. You should have smacked him in the head and walked out an hour ago.”

 

 

 

Xander just stared at the flowers in the center of the table. Spike leaned back in a chair and laced his fingers behind his head. “He’s just won the lottery. You have to forgive his manners.”

 

 

 

Midra chuckled. “That’s all right. I can bring any man back from the brink.”

 

 

 

Spike cast a leering eye along her body. “I bet you can.”

 

 

 

Midra shook her head. “You’re good for a woman’s ego, Mr. Spike. Watch this,” she said as she lifted the lid on a pot. Rich aromas of beef and vegetables filled the room.

 

 

 

Xander’s head lifted and he snapped back to reality. “Lunch?” he asked hopefully.

 

 

 

“Very shortly, yes. I told you I could bring him back.”

 

 

 

“Food’s always been his weakness. If we wanted him to play bait, we just dropped candy bars along the trail.”

 

 

 

“Hey! None of the Scoobies did that!” Xander glowered at Spike.

 

 

 

“Did I say ‘we?’ I meant to say I.”

 

 

 

Xander shook his head at the twinkle in Spike’s blue eyes. “What’s this about astronauts and cavemen?”

 

 

 

“Oh, no.” Midra muttered and added a pinch of something to her soup.

 

 

 

“In a fight between astronauts and cavemen, who would win?”

 

 

 

“What arena?” Xander asked. “What weapons?”

 

 

 

“Star Trek scenario. Habitable planet, unfamiliar to both parties. Found materials. Minimal clothing.”

 

 

 

“Cavemen,” Xander said without hesitation.

 

 

 

“I knew it!” Spike cried in triumph. “You just tipped the house balance.”

 

 

 

A lively and friendly discussion continued through lunch. Everyone had a point of view they felt strongly about. Talk switched to Giles and his book and other matters.

 

 

 

Xander’s mood stayed light, but Spike began to notice longer silences between his statements. “Hey, Xan. It’s a pretty day, how about the ride I promised you in the Jag?”

 

 

 

“Great!” Xander said, jumping at the chance to escape the chatter of his friends. He loved them all very much, but he still wasn’t used to crowd scenes. “ Let me go put some shoes on in case you take me somewhere civilized.” He quickly got up and dashed from the table.

 

 

 

“What got into him?” Willow asked. “Is he that excited about your car?”

 

 

 

“As happy as he is to be here, you lot get to be a bit much now and then,” Spike said as he got up and put his hands deep in his pockets. “Why do you think I vanish all the time?”

 

 

 

“Because you are at heart a homicidal sociopath?” Gunn said with a grin.

 

 

 

Spike clapped a hand to his chest. “You wound me to the core. How can I stay around people who know me so well?”

 

 

 

Xander stampeded down the stairs and stood in the doorway. “well? Are you ready to go?”

 

 

 

“I’ll meet you in the garage. I’m taking the underground route.”

 

 

 

“Take your jacket,” Midra called after Xander. “In case he keeps you out late.”

 

 

 

“Yes, ma’am,” Xander called, and grabbed his new leather jacket from beside the door.

 

 

 

Xander blinked in the bright sunshine and made a mental note to buy some sunglasses. He opened the door of the garage to discover Spike settling a long black coat over his shoulders. Xander smiled at this garment he’d been missing on the vampire, then realized it wasn’t the familiar battered trench coat. This one was a trimmer cut and more modern in its design. “Where’s your old coat, Spike? I’ve missed seeing it.”

 

 

 

“It got blown up in Rome.”

 

 

 

“Oh? Sounds very James Bond.”

 

 

 

“It was. I’ll tell you about it some day. Is there anywhere you want to go?”

 

 

 

“I do want to get Dawn something for her birthday. I have an idea, but I think it will have to be made and there’s no time.”

 

 

 

“Like what?” Spike asked as they climbed in the little car.

 

 

 

“A necklace.”

 

 

 

“I know just the place. There’s one rule when riding with me.”

 

 

 

“Don’t puke on the upholstery?” Xander grinned.

 

 

 

“Okay, two rules.” Spike said as he put on his sunglasses. “Don’t roll the windows down or you’ll find yourself in a dusty car with no one in control.”

 

 

 

“Gotcha.”

 

 

 

Spike took off with a controlled fish-tailing out of the garage and sped down the long driveway. He laughed with glee as Xander clutched the handle above the door. However, once out in traffic, Spike proved himself to be a sure and capable driver.

 

 

 

“Giles doesn’t look as bad as I thought he would,” Xander observed.

 

 

 

“It was bad enough to knock him off his feet for a couple of feet and make him take stock in his life. He’s not got it bad, really. He lives at the family home with some friendly relative or another and they’ve got enough money to get by.”

 

 

 

“Giles comes from money?”

 

 

 

“How do you think he stayed unemployed for so long after the school blew up? How do you think he bought the Magic Box, mate?”

 

 

 

“I never thought about it.”

 

 

 

“Don’t worry too much about Rupert. Now that you’re back, he’ll be much happier.”

 

 

 

Xander studied Spike but could see to trace of sarcasm. “He cares that much?” he asked.

 

 

 

Spike scoffed. “They all do. I missed the worst of it, but that was the biggest bad news everyone shared when they went to catch me up on events.” Spike glanced over at his passenger who was staring out the window. “Brought me down, too,” Spike confessed.

 

 

 

“Why?”

 

 

 

“I always pegged you for the one to outlive us all. Unless I’m mistaken, you’re the only one who hasn’t been dead or evil then brought back to the light side of the force.”

 

 

 

“Did you just make a Star Wars reference, Spike?”

 

 

 

“Bollocks,” Spike muttered. “I’ve been spending too much time with Gunn and Oz lately.”

 

 

 

Xander looked out at the bright day and the passing sights. Soon, his mind drifted to places long packed away.

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

“Xander?”

 

 

 

Xander tore his attention from the new Dan Brown novel Anthony had given him an hour before. He was sitting on the pile of pillows and blankets that had grown over the last year beside Anthony’s chair. At first, he had sat at he table, but when he would up spending a lot of time crossing to Anthony’s chair to show him passages, he started sitting in the floor. Anthony managed to have soft things brought in an attempt to block out the cold stone floor. Xander sometimes joked that he felt like a favored pet sitting at his master’s feet.

 

 

 

The vampire was holding his own book with one finger in it as a marker. Xander had no idea how long he’d been the subject of study, but that, too was something he’d grown used to. They had fallen into a routine. Several evenings a week, Xander would be taken to Anthony’s cell and they would talk together or just sit comfortably and read. More often than not, Anthony would find his companion more interesting than his book and he would just watch Xander. It wasn’t uncommon for their books to be abandoned in favor of conversation. “Yes, Anthony?” Xander marked his place and set his book aside.

 

 

 

“It has come to my attention that you are hiring pleasers yet not having sex with them.”

 

 

 

Xander blushed and looked away. He spent most of his time naked or almost so and they’d discussed the topic of sex before. Still, Anthony’s direct manner caught him off guard at times. “Is that a problem? I thought we could do whatever we wanted with them.”

 

 

 

“You can. I just wondered if anything was wrong?”

 

 

 

Xander glared at him. His constantly suppressed frustrations bubbled up. “You mean apart from having been forced to live in a stinking cave away from family and friends for over a year with no hope for escape or love? You mean other than I have to hire someone just to hug me? Why, no, Anthony. My life is great!”

 

 

 

Anthony’s dark eyes narrowed and Xander swallowed. As good as their arrangement was, Xander still feared this powerful vampire and respected him. Once Anthony had ripped the head off one of the lesser demons who worked the tunnels for spilling something on Anthony’s boots. He braced for attack, but Anthony just sighed, passed a hand over his face, and put his book aside. “I know your pain, Xander,” he said quietly. “I envy you that you can hire a pretty one to warm your bed. I cannot.”

 

 

 

“Why not? You wouldn’t even have to pay for it.”

 

 

 

“Imagine if I did that. How long would it be before others started testing me for weakness? As it is, they question my keeping and fair treatment of you.”

 

 

 

“If you need to rough me up sometime, I understand,” Xander said quietly, feeling for his companion.

 

 

 

The brown eyes warmed. “You would do that for me, wouldn’t you?”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “I’m used to being beat up.”

 

 

 

“I don’t want to harm you Xander.” Anthony regarded him levelly. “I would like to ask if I can join you in your pet bed.”

 

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

 

“You look so comfortable down there, and I sit there when I am alone sometimes.” Anthony didn’t share that he liked the scent of his adopted human.

 

 

 

“Um. Sure. I don’t mind at all.”

 

 

 

Anthony gifted him with one of his rare smiles, picked up his book and gracefully sunk down beside him on the floor.

 

 

 

Over the next couple of visits, they sat close together until one evening Xander gave in to the impulse to put his head in Anthony’s lap.

 

 

 

“What’s this about?” Anthony asked, looking down at him.

 

 

 

“Well, if I’m going to be a pet, I may as well get my ears scratched.”

 

 

 

“If that is your line of logic, I, too, must be a pet because I am spending so much time on your level.”

 

 

 

“I see your point. How about this; next time, I’ll play pillow.”

 

 

 

“Agreed.” Anthony picked up his book with one hand and ran his hand through Xander’s lengthening hair.

 

 

 

It wasn’t long before they were holding one another, with a casual arm around the other as they leaned together. Sometimes Anthony liked to pull Xander back to rest against his chest and read over his shoulder. Then one evening Anthony claimed their first kiss.

 

 

 

They had been sitting together in the miss-matched nest of pillows and blankets when Anthony abruptly put aside his book, took Xander’s from his hand and cupped one long-fingered hand around his face. “Xander. I want this,” he said quietly and kissed him firmly. A year before, Xander would have freaked at having the lips of a tall, strong man pressed to his own. Now it felt right and natural.

 

 

 

After an immeasurable time, Anthony pulled away. “Oh,” Xander said, making his eye focus again on the warm brown face before him. “That was… quite nice.”

 

 

 

“So you would not object to more?” The rumble of Anthony’s deep voice thrilled him.

 

 

 

“More? More kisses?” Anthony nodded, the gems in his hair swinging. “No. I cannot honestly say I would object to more kisses.”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

Spike glanced over at Xander where he stared vacantly out the window. Spike watched his reflection in the window as his fingers gently traced the fullness of his lower lip, then dropped to grasp the pearl which never left his throat. When a tear slipped from his eye, Spike decided to derail his train of thought. He parked the car and turned off the motor.

 

 

 

“We’re here,” Spike said, cutting into Xander’s thoughts.

 

 

 

Xander blinked and looked around. They were packed on a sheltered driveway by a row of shops. The sun glinted off the ocean not too far away. Xander sniffed and rubbed his face. “Sorry, I… I must have dozed off. Where’s here?”

 


Chapter 24

Spike glanced over at Xander where he stared vacantly out the window. Spike watched his reflection in the window as his fingers gently traced the fullness of his lower lip, then dropped to grasp the pearl which never left his throat. When a tear slipped from his eye, Spike decided to derail his train of thought. He parked the car and turned off the motor.

 

 

 

“We’re here,” Spike said, cutting into Xander’s thoughts.

 

 

 

Xander blinked and looked around. They were packed on a sheltered driveway by a row of shops. The sun glinted off the ocean not too far away. Xander sniffed and rubbed his face. “Sorry, I… I must have dozed off. Where’s here?”

 

 

 

“You were somewhere far away you obviously needed to go. Don’t apologize. We’re at a shop where I bet you can get what you want for Dawn.”

 

 

 

Spike got out of the car and waited patiently as Xander pulled himself together before joining him. The side door of the shop was completely under shelter and no stray sunbeam crept in. “Jen knows how to carter to unique clients,” Spike explained. “I’m not the only one with sun allergies.”

 

 

 

Xander followed Spike into the dim interior of the shop. At once the mixture of exotic scents recalled the Magic Box and the many long hours he’d spent there. But this shop was different. The chemical odors of leather dye and paint mixed with the sandalwood and patchouli.

 

 

 

Spike strode into the dim shop with an air of familiarity. “Hey, Jen! I bring you a customer.”

 

 

 

“I’ll be right out! I have to rinse this brush,” came a voice from beyond a beaded doorway.

 

 

 

Xander was drawn to one of many bright paintings which hung among the merchandise. A bright green, leering man reached a long, lulling, blue tongue toward the legs of a woman. In another, a big-eyed dachshund smiled out at the viewer while dreaming of his dinner dish.

 

 

 

“She’s got quite a vision, doesn’t she?”

 

 

 

Xander frowned at a painting of two sperm shaped worm creatures in conversation. “I… I like the colors.”

 

 

 

Spike snorted. “You’re just uneducated.”

 

 

 

“Spike! I knew you couldn’t stay away for long.” Xander turned to see a petite woman with bright red hair, a striped black and white shirt, and jeans turned up in a wide cuff. Xander had to smile at her battered combat boots that were so much like Spike’s.

 

 

 

“Ah, Pet, you know I can’t. I love the new color,” he said, pointing at her hair. “Let me introduce you to my friend Xander.”

 

 

 

“Hey! Great to meet you.” Spike saw her appraising look and didn’t miss the ‘not bad’ face she flashed him. She came over, took hold of Xander’s wrist and looked at his leather bands. “They fit well, I’m glad to see.” She held his hand and looked up at him. “They were what you needed?”

 

 

 

Xander tried not to squirm under her frank scrutiny. “Um. Yeah. You made them? They’re… very comfortable.”

 

 

 

“You know you got them right, Pet. You always do.” Spike poked through a bowl of amulets. “I still think your name should be spelled with a ‘dj.’”

 

 

 

Jen smiled at Xander’s blank look. “D. J. I. N. N,” she spelled. “as in a genie.” She dropped Xander’s hand. “You’re friend is quite the flirt.”

 

 

 

Xander grinned. “I know.”

 

 

 

“So, what can I do you for?”

 

 

 

“I want something for my friend Dawn, for her birthday.”

 

 

 

“Paint? Ink? Gems? Leather?” Jen went around behind the counter and leaned on it.

 

 

 

“I, uh, have an idea but I don’t know if there is time to find it.”

 

 

 

“Lay it on me!”

 

 

 

Soon, Xander and Jen were both leaning on the counter and detailing a sketch that Jen was drawing. Spike picked up one of the books and made himself comfortable in the one comfortable chair. Finally, the two signed off on the design with Jen promising to do her best to meet the tight deadline.

 

 

 

“Thank you,” Xander said. “Wait, we haven’t talked price.”

 

 

 

“It’ll be so fair you’ll have to tip her heavily,” Spike said as if from long experience.

 

 

 

Jen shook her head. “I wish I didn’t have to do the business part. I just want to make things.” She wrote a figure on the paper that Xander knew was too reasonable.

 

 

 

“Looks like you’re right, Spike. See you in a couple of days, Jen. It was nice to meet you.”

 

 

 

“Where to now?” Spike asked, giving Jen a nod and a grin.

 

 

 

“Dunno.”

 

 

 

“Wait,” Jen called. “I need to add something to your bracelet.” Before Xander could say anything, she unsnapped the left leather cuff and took it into the back room.

 

 

 

Spike and Xander exchanged puzzled looks as the thump of a mallet sounded. She came back out quickly and snapped the band back around his wrist before Xander could look at what she’d done. “You two look after each other, okay?”

 

 

 

“That’s our plan, pet.” Spike watched Xander closely as they left the shop. Xander was looking down at the altered band as he stepped outside. He took one, two, three steps from the door before dropping his wrist instead of checking the changes.

 

 

 

“What other shops are nearby?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

Spike had seen this minor forgetting take place before. Jen’s magic, whatever flavor it was, stayed secret to any humans who came into her shop. She did a lot of small good things as far as Spike could tell, so who was he to reveal her? “A little of everything. No where else I can go, though.”

 

 

 

Xander squinted out into the bright sunshine and pointed to a pharmacy across the street. “I want to get some sunglasses before we get on the road, okay?”

 

 

 

Spike shrugged. “Take your time. It’s a pretty day and there’s a nice bench here.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded, took four steps up the sidewalk, then turned and came back. “I, uh. I can’t go shopping. I don’t have any money.” He laughed. “How’s that for irony?”

 

 

 

“No problem.” Spike pulled a slim wallet from inside his coat and pulled out two hundreds. “Will that do you?”

 

 

 

“I just want some sunglasses.”

 

 

 

“Something else might catch your eye. Besides, it’s your money.” Spike sprawled on the wooden bench deep in the shade my the building. He shooed Xander away. “Go. Shop.”

 

 

 

Xander put the money deep in his pocket like a kid being trusted with errand money. “Okay. Be right back.”

 

 

 

Spike watched Xander cross the street. He counted twelve before Jen opened the side door, came out, and sat beside him. “He’s a powerful one, isn’t he?”

 

 

 

Spike nodded. “Stronger than he knows.”

 

 

 

She looked off toward the ocean, not seeing it. “And yet there’s a flaw through him like a fracture in a gem stone. It’s much like yours.” Spike looked sharply at the slim woman he would not have considered meal-worthy back in the day. She didn’t acknowledge the warning in his look. “Of course, if two things break, you often find they can be best mended by putting them together.”

 

 

 

Spike studied her silently. “Are you sure you’re not Midra’s sister? She likes to speak in riddles, too.”

 

 

 

Jen beamed a smile at Spike. “She sees things, too.” She patted his leg, stood, and left him to puzzle her meaning.

 

 

 

Xander had intended to find some sunglasses and maybe a drink, then get back to Spike. His friend was being so patient, but it didn’t feel right to just leave him sitting alone. The Walgreen’s turned out to be filled with new brands and flavors he’d never seen and it wasn’t long before he went back to the stand beside the door and picked up a plastic basket to carry all his finds.

 

 

 

He picked out some sunglasses first, then worked his way down the candy row. He knew Spike’s warnings about sweets were true, but there were things he’d dreamed of and new things he’d never seen. His attention was caught by a electronic toy in the middle of the rows. He played with it for a few minutes, then looked up. He was right in front of the condom display.

 

 

 

Xander swallowed, suddenly feeling like a kid sneaking looks at the dirty magazines. He glanced around the building, but the check out girl was ringing someone out, an older man in the card aisle was squinting at a card, and the pharmacist in his cage was doing something out of Xander’s sight.

 

 

 

Xander went over to the display, praying they hadn’t changed things too much. It didn’t take him long to locate the KY jelly. He tumbled a tube into his basket, then froze. Some things had changed.

 

 

 

A rectangular box some seven inches tall bore the familiar logo of the nemesis of his bachelor apartment days. Doc Johnson. In a drugstore? Xander had been planning to buy a toy on line once he had a credit card and learned how. Several nights he’d found himself feeling empty and wanting to feel something within himself again. Xander glanced around and picked up the box. The picture was clearly of a dildo that had a series of increasingly larger bumps. The label contents declared it to be “100% medical grade silicone.”

 

 

 

He tucked it in his basket under the York Peppermint Patties. Then he looked some more. A more traditionally shaped toy stood in the slot beside the first. Xander shrugged. He wanted what he wanted. So what if Spike saw and teased him? Spike! Xander had no idea how long he’d shopped. Tucking the second toy under his chips, he made for the check out.

 

 

 

Feeling guilty, Xander clutched his bags and hurried back across the street. He found Spike still sitting on the bench. “I’m sorry. Maybe I should buy a watch.”

 

 

 

“No worries. I was just about to call an Amber alert is all.” Spike stood up, leading with his crotch as he somehow always managed.

 

 

 

“Sorry,” Xander said again, hoping his purchases wouldn’t be visible through the thin plastic of the bags.

 

 

 

“I figured you’d be a kid in a candy store. Fish out your glasses and let’s be on our way, yeah? Want to put your bags in the boot? There’s not much room in the front.”

 

 

 

“Boot?”

 

 

 

“Trunk. Compartment in the back of a car that holds things?”

 

 

 

Xander stuck his tongue out at Spike. “I know what a trunk is.”

 

 

 

Spike unlocked it and climbed in the front seat. He didn’t know exactly what all the man had bought in there, but he sure was feeling guilty about it. Spike shook his head.

 

 

 

Once Xander was belted in with sunglasses in place and soda in hand, Spike looked him over. “Where now?”

 

 

 

“How long until dinner?”

 

 

 

Spike looked at the dashboard clock. “Three hours till sundown and another hour to dinner. You hungry now?”

 

 

 

“No. I’m good. How about just showing me where everything is? I, uh, wasn’t paying attention on the way here.”

 

 

 

Spike smoothly pulled the sleek car out onto the road and back to the highway. He played tour guide, pointing out places he knew Xander would like. He stopped at a traffic light and pointed out the window. “This is the biggest comic book shop around.” Xander’s hand twitched toward the door handle. “BUT. If I don’t let Gunn and Oz do the introduction to their favorite place, I will never hear the end of it.”

 

 

 

Xander looked longingly at Spiderman painted on the window as they drove away. “But I’ve still got some money left,” he pouted.

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “I’ve sat and waited for you once today. It’ll be open again.”

 

 

 

“Okay.” They drove on along a road paralleling the bright beach. Xander sighed some ten minutes later.

 

 

 

“Still pouting about the comic store?” Spike teased.

 

 

 

“Just thinking.”

 

 

 

“About Anthony?” Spike ventured.

 

 

 

“Yeah. He had infinite patience. With me. I must have babbled for hours about superheroes, plot lines, and how they could or could not have been real.”

 

 

 

“I wish I could have met him,” Spike said softly. “Anyone who can take that much from you… he must have cared.”

 

 

 

Xander swallowed. “He did. I did.”

 


Chapter 25

“He kept you sane, yeah?” Spike held his lack of breath and hoped for more.

 

 

 

“It was horrible there, Spike. In… in the first week, I was already contemplating ways to… to not be there any more. And it had to be final so I wouldn’t be a minion or a werewolf or… or something worse.”

 

 

 

“A million ways to die,” Spike said.

 

 

 

“A million and twelve. But then he… I still don’t know if he bought me or adopted me or what. He never said.”

 

 

 

“Eventually he claimed you, though, that’s something powerful.” He took note of Xander’s startled look. “I noticed the scar, okay? I couldn’t not’ve.”

 

 

 

“You could not look at my crotch.” Xander said lightly, unthinking covering the bite scar high on his left leg near the base of his penis.

 

 

 

“Not with you parading it around like you do.”

 

 

 

Xander’s humor evaporated. “Does… does it bother you? I can wear clothes..”

 

 

 

Spike sighed. “Xander. I want you to be comfortable around me. Understand? You, naked, does not make me uncomfortable. And you’re changing the subject. Anthony claimed you. You were physical. It. Doesn’t. Bother. Me.”

 

 

 

“Don’t vampires claim people they aren’t physical with?”

 

 

 

“Rarely, mate. Not much of a point.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Xander stared out the window. “Yeah,” he finally said softly. “We were lovers.” He studied Spike’s profile until the vampire glanced over at him.

 

 

 

“Wot?”

 

 

 

“No poof jokes?”

 

 

 

Spike shook his head. “I already told you, things like that don’t matter to me.”

 

 

 

“Good. Can we head home?”

 

 

 

“Sure thing.” They traveled in silence as Xander once again stared out the window.

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“Xander,” Anthony murmured. “I wish to touch you, and for you to touch me. I know you’ve hired male as well as female pleasers.”

 

 

 

Xander drew back and considered the dark skinned vampire. “I don’t know, Anthony. I…” he looked away, toying with his book that had fallen aside, forgotten as soon as Anthony pulled him in for a kiss. “It’s already strange that we kiss. I mean, We have to be all business outside of this room and…”

 

 

 

“Xander, can you deny that you desire more? I can see and feel your body desires me. Do you not in your mind as well?”

 

 

 

“No. I can’t deny it.”

 

 

 

“Then let us share what we can. My care protects you from others taking what they wish of you, but by the same coin, it entitles me to claim it if I wish.”

 

 

 

Xander glared at him. “You’d do that, wouldn’t you?” He let out a frustrated huff and punched a pillow. “You lull me into forgetting what a soulless thing you are, then when your coercion doesn’t work, you‘ll just take it!”

 

 

 

Anthony stood and moved away from Xander. He stared at the lone painting of a sunlit seascape that hung on the cave’s walls. Xander recognized this as a calming habit the vampire had. It had been months since he’d done it in relation to anything Xander had said. After a while Anthony shook his head. “No, Xander. I do not wish to take from you. I only want to share what few pleasures we can have in this cursed place. My sire came to me when I was human. He seduced me. First my mind, then my body. I had had lovers before.”

 

 

 

“The twins?” Xander asked. He had wondered about the true relationship between the landowner’s sons and their servant.

 

 

 

“Yes. It was the true reason I was separated from them. The landowner wanted his sons to marry and bear him grandchildren. So it was easy for my sire to lure me away. His touch was nothing like that of a human. He knew just how to touch, to please.”

 

 

 

“I know vampires are good at reading people,” Xander said, more because he felt he should contribute.

 

 

 

“We are.” Anthony turned from the painting and Xander saw a rare slip in his carefully composed mask. “When we touch, I can taste your desire. I can smell your arousal. It was not my intention to…what word did you use, coerce you? I thought simple kissing would be enough, but I want more.” Anthony hung his head. “If you refuse me, you must stay with me for less time of a night. My demon wants more. It…is peaceful with you around, Xander, and I thank you for that. But after sampling your kisses…”

 

 

 

Xander got up and stood before Anthony. “I want more, too, but I am afraid.”

 

 

 

Anthony brought his head up sharply. “After a year, you fear me still?”

 

 

 

“I never stopped fearing Spike and Angel. Even after soul and chip. I know too well the nature of the beast, but that is not what I meant.”

 

 

 

“Then what?”

 

 

 

“What if I want more?”

 

 

 

“I will do for you what you want. I can teach you how it is done if you do not know.”

 

 

 

Xander barked a dry laugh. “I now how to fuck. What if I want… more?” Xander laid his hand on Anthony’s still chest.

 

 

 

The vampire tilted his head to one side, giving Xander a twist of mental vertigo as he recalled another so fond of that gesture. “I can make no promises, Xander. I can declare no loyalties for I have nothing that is my own. I respect you and as much as I can in this hell hole I will protect you as my own. I can do no more.”

 

 

 

“Then that will have to be good enough for me.” Xander cupped Anthony’s narrow face in his hands and kissed him soundly. “I will take what crumbs the world lets fall onto my plate.”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

“He claimed me to protect me,” Xander said suddenly, pulling Spike from his own woolgathering.

 

 

 

“Strong vamp like that, he’d want to keep others off what was his.”

 

 

 

Xander sighed. “There is no way to keep Warriors from taking what they want, so sex amongst them was not forbidden. Love was. When they fucked it was rough and grab and want and… animal. We... I wanted more. We hid it as best we could. I basically belonged to him, so it didn’t cause a stir when I slept in his room now and then. We became as close as two could be under the circumstances. Of course, there were always those after what they couldn’t have, and those who have to mess up what you find good.”

 

 

 

“So he marked you so if anyone touched you, he’d be justified in killing them.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. That’s all it was.”

 

 

 

“For him.”

 

 

 

“Pretty much.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry, Xan.” Spike could hear the disappointment in the man's voice. He knew Xander was one to love strongly and fully.

 

 

 

“No, it was good. When we trained, I fought and spit and did my damnedest to kill him. When we were alone… It was nice.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“You want to what?” They had been getting more and more intimate in the past two months. It was Xander who had not wanted to cross the line of penetration.

 

 

 

Anthony lay with his head on Xander’s leg, studying his now-wilting hard on. “Mark you with a claiming scar.”

 

 

 

“What’s that? You want to thrall me into some kind of puppet and make me eat bugs?”

 

 

 

“Why would I make you want to eat bugs, Xander? I know you prefer peanut butter.”

 

 

 

Xander sighed and sat up, pulling his leg from under Anthony. “I don’t want to be your snack bag or sex slave.”

 

 

 

Anthony chuckled and sat up. “What kinds of stories have these Watchers of yours been telling you?”

 

 

 

“Well, not so much the Watchers as Dracula. And Spike.”

 

 

 

“Dracula plays mind games will all he meets, and I gather Spike loved to tell his own stories.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “He told plenty of good ones.”

 

 

 

“And most had to do with making you respect or fear him.”

 

 

 

“Well, yeah.”

 

 

 

“Xander, a claim scar is nothing more than a physical marking that warns others that you belong to another.”

 

 

 

“Couldn’t I just have a collar with your name on a tag or something?”

 

 

 

“As adorable as that image is, it would not have the same impact. If my mark were upon you, no other vampire, and precious few demons will take any liberties with you.”

 

 

 

“Because?”

 

 

 

“Meddleing with you would be the same as meddleing with me. No one could fault me for killing any who touched you.”

 

 

 

“You would do that anyway, wouldn’t you?” Xander asked, unsure.

 

 

 

“Yes. All here know that. But I suspect they will soon send you to other arenas and our relationship is not so well known.”

 

 

 

“But you can’t leave here. How does that help?”

 

 

 

“I can order vengeance to be carried out in my name.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Xander thought it over. “Where? My neck?”

 

 

 

“It doesn’t matter. I was thinking where my sire placed mine. Where his is.” Anthony spread his legs to show the lighter twist of scar high on his left thigh, near the base of his cock.

 

 

 

“Oh. That’s the style?” Xander joked.

 

 

 

Anthony shrugged. “Call it tradition, if you will, along the DeAmeron line.”

 

 

 

“Will this give me vampire speed or better healing?”

 

 

 

“What on earth have you been reading? Is this from your comic books?”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “Maybe. I just want to know what I’d be getting into.”

 

 

 

“I would bite you. It will scar. That is it. You do not have to drink any of my blood if you don’t want to.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Well. If that’s all. I already have a collection of scars. One in just that place might add to the ruggedness of my appearance. But I would expect flowers on our anniversary, mister.”

 

 

 

Anthony smiled a little. “There is one more benefit. I could keep you here, with me, all night whenever I wished and no one could cry foul.”

 

 

 

Xander swallowed. “Honestly?”

 

 

 

“You would then be marked as more than my toy or my pet fighter. Symbolically, you would be a part of me. I do not make this offer lightly, Xander. You may think it over if you want.”

 

 

 

Xander stood and went to the door. “I’ll tell you tomorrow, Anthony. Okay? It’s a lot to think over and can’t be taken back, right?” He pulled the cord that summoned a guard. Anthony studied the pattern on a pillow. “Wait. What if… what if you get killed?”

 

 

 

“All that is mine will go to you, such that it is, and you will be able to find your own fighter if you wish.”

 

 

 

“Won’t happen. I’m not big on the biting thing. What if I get killed?”

 

 

 

“Then I will be very sad.”

 

 

 

++++

 

They remained silent as Spike drove up the long driveway and parked in the dark garage. He could smell the arousal and the underlying sadness pouring off Xander.

 

 

 

Xander tossed his sunglasses on the dashboard and rubbed his face.

 

 

 

“Do you want to go spar? Let off some steam?” Spike asked.

 

 

 

“No, Spike. I’ll be fine.”

 

 

 

Spike laid a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “Look. I can see you’re shaken up…”

 

 

 

Xander shook his head. “I’m fine. I… just some memories got stirred up I didn’t expect.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry I asked about him, mate. Curiosity got the better of me.”

 

 

 

“It’s okay. I… I need to face it all. I need to dig it up and let it air out.” Xander scrubbed his face again and came up with a too bright smile. “I wonder what’s for dinner.”

 

 

 

Spike didn’t believe his cheer for a minute, but had to respect his wishes. “It’ll be good, I’m certain. Let’s get your bags from the back and go in.” Spike didn’t miss the flush on Xander’s cheeks at the mention of the bags. “What’s wrong?”

 

 

 

“I was shopping and the girls will want to know what I got,” Xander sighed.

 

 

 

Spike snorted dismissively. “It’s none of their business what candy you want to squirrel away in your room. Look, I’ll carry them up and then join you inside. They don’t dare question me.”

 

 

 

“I…” Xander didn’t want Spike knowing he’d bought sex toys for himself.

 

 

 

“Xander. I don’t care one bit what you bought. I won’t go through them, okay?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. That... that would best.” Xander slumped.

 

 

 

“You sure you’re ready to face the crowd? We can eat out.”

 

 

 

“No. I want to see them.”

 

 

 

“Okay. You come in when you’re ready.” Spike opened the trunk, scooped up both bags, noting with a smile that Xander had tied the handles closed, and took off through the door to the tunnel.

 

 

 

Xander stared after him for a few minutes, not seeing the closed door. “Anthony left things unsaid until it was too late. I hope you don’t do that, too.” Xander closed up the car and washed his face in the utility sink before heading in.

 


Chapter 26

Spike came into the kitchen to find the usual pre-meal gathering.

 

 

 

“Hey! The boys are back!” Willow said. “What all did you get into?”

 

 

 

“Drove around. Showed him where everything is.” Spike kept moving toward the stairs.

 

 

 

“You didn’t take him to Buckner’s, did you?” Gunn asked.

 

 

 

“Nope. I wasn’t up to spending three hours in a comic shop. I left the fan boy drool fest for you and Oz.” Spike made his exit and climbed the stairs two at a time.

 

 

 

He had promised to not go through the bags, but that didn’t stop him from looking through the thin plastic. After all, he was still evil sometimes. When he saw the white container with the blue KY logo, he smiled and put the bags on the table. Spike was pleased to learn Xander was feeling good enough to want some private wank time. He made a mental note to find a reason to leave him alone over the next couple of days and headed back downstairs.

 

 

 

Dawn was grilling Xander about her birthday present as Spike turned a chair around and straddled it.

 

 

 

“Come on, just a hint!”

 

 

 

“It’s smaller than a breadbox. Say, who uses breadboxes anymore, anyway?” Xander said in an attempt to change the topic.

 

 

 

Midra shook her head an pointed to the wooden box on the counter which was clearly marked with the word “bread.”

 

 

 

“Oh.”

 

 

 

“We didn’t get it at Buckner’s,” Spike put in, attempting to divert Dawn.

 

 

 

“Well, no. You won’t go in there.” She leaned close to Spike and sniffed. “I know that cocktail of scents. You went to Jen’s! You got me something from Jen!”

 

 

 

“No, nosy one,” Spike said. “One of the snaps on Xander’s bands needed tightening. That’s all.”

 

 

 

“When can we go to the comic shop, anyway?” Xander asked Gunn, his expression begging for help. The ploy worked, but the next half hour was spent with the two of them in a discussion of the finer points of action figure collection and display.

 

 

 

As desert was served, Midra turned to Gunn. “I forgot, beloved, a package came for you from Amazon today.”

 

 

 

“The bookstore or the river?” Gunn asked as if it were an old joke.

 

 

 

“The bookstore this time.”

 

 

 

“Hot damn! It must be my director’s cut, wide screen, bonus DVD of extra features, boxed set of all five Spiderman movies!” Gunn crowed. “Where is it?”

 

 

 

Midra sighed and rolled her eyes. “On the table by the front door where all packages live.”

 

 

 

Gunn reached for his cane, but Dawn bounded to her feet. “I’ll get it for you!”

 

 

 

“Open it out there! I don’t want packing material in my food!” Midra called.

 

 

 

Shortly, Dawn returned with a red and black box with silver webbing on it. “What cool packaging!” she said.

 

 

 

“Man. I gotta watch some of this. Who wants to join me?”

 

 

 

Everyone raised their hand but Spike and Xander. “Come on, Xan,” Dawn said. “I know you’ve not seen at least two of them, and it’s probably my last chance to watch a movie with you before I head home. Please?”

 

 

 

Spike watched as Xander fought a mental battle before slipping on a smile. “Sure, I never could say no to you.”

 

 

 

Dawn bounced up and clapped her hands. “Yay! I’ll make the caramel popcorn. I know it’s your favorite.”

 

 

 

After forty-five minutes of popping popcorn, fighting for prime seats and reminding Xander of the plots of the first two movies, they finally started watching the third Spiderman movie. The TV room had several platforms, each higher than the last. Spike sat in a comfy chair just behind the front-row loveseat that had been claimed by Xander and Dawn with his feet up on the back.

 

 

 

Spike watched Xander more then the movie. Any time Xander grew too still, Spike would teasingly rock his foot and tap Xander in the head. Most of the way through the film, Dawn moved the popcorn bowl the side and laid down with her head in Xander’s lap. She smiled up at her friend, unaware of the sudden stiffness Spike saw in his shoulders. He could sense Xander’s anxiety rising.

 

 

 

“Oi! Niblet.”

 

 

 

“What, Spike?”

 

 

 

“How about fixing your old babysitter a cuppa?”

 

 

 

“But Spike, I just got comfortable,” she whined a bit.

 

 

 

“Come on, you make it just right. When will I have another chance to have your tea before you visit again at the holidays?” Spike used his best flattering voice.

 

 

 

Dawn sighed and looked up at Xander. “I think he’s jealous. Do you want anything?” Xander shook his head no. “I’ll be right back, uncle Spike.”

 

 

 

“Uncle,” Spike snorted.

 

 

 

As soon as Dawn left the room, Spike climbed over the back of the loveseat, drawing catcalls of “down in front” from the rest of the room, and dropped down beside Xander. “She was bogarting the caramel popcorn,” he explained, picking up the bowl and placing it between them. He briefly met Xander’s eye and smirked, grabbing a handful of popcorn.

 

 

 

Shortly, Dawn returned with a cup of tea and a fresh soda for herself. “Hey! That’s my seat!”

 

 

 

“You moved. Fair’s fair.” Spike ignored her and watched the movie.

 

 

 

“Spike!”

 

 

 

Spike blinked up at her with wide blue eyes. “Thanks for the cuppa, pigeon.”

 

 

 

“Oh! I should dump this on your head.”

 

 

 

“Hey! No food fights!” Willow called.

 

 

 

“I wasn’t gonna,” Dawn glared down at Spike until she remember the futility of having a staring match with someone who didn’t have to blink. With a dramatic sigh, she flopped into the chair vacated by Spike.

 

 

 

Spike felt Xander’s tension largely drain away. After a big fight scene, Xander leaned over and whispered to Spike. “You know I only claimed caramel popcorn was my favorite back then because you hated it and wouldn’t eat it.”

 

 

 

“I know. It’s going to take forever to get this crap out of my teeth.”

 

 

 

The movie ended and Xander stood up. “I… I think I’ll take a pass on any more movies tonight.” This was met with a chorus of protests. “I’m sorry. Go on and watch without me. I… I’m going to try out that big tub in my room.”

 

 

 

“I was going to make cookies,” Willow pouted.

 

 

 

Spike watched Xander flounder, ready to give in again. “Want me to bring you up a snack after the last movie?” Spike asked, well aware that Xander had bought plenty.

 

 

 

Spike could see his relief as he answered. “If you want. Thanks, Spike.”

 

 

 

Spike shrugged. “Go soak your head. It will do us all some good.”

 

 

 

Xander chuckled and made his exit.

 

 

 

“You want to lay on my lap?” Spike smirked up at Dawn as Oz changed movies.

 

 

 

“I’m mad at you,” she said with an exaggerated pout.

 

 

 

Spike’s voice softened. “Don’t be, pet. You were making Xander uncomfortable.”

 

 

 

“I was?” she squeaked. “I didn’t mean to. I couldn’t tell. Why?”

 

 

 

“I don’t know why, Luv. Don’t say anything to him. We spent the day talking about… dark stuff. I think he just needs some alone time is all.”

 

 

 

She climbed over the couch and sat down. She looked at her fingers where they twined around her soda can. “I guess we’ve all been wanting some time with him.”

 

 

 

Spike reached out and petted her hair once. “Yeah. Now he needs some time with himself.”

 

 

 

Xander took two six packs from the kitchen before escaping upstairs. Once there, he went to the bathroom and turned the taps on hot in the big bathtub. He stared at the splashing water and did his best to block out the memories of another brought up by Dawn's bright eyes looking up at him from his lap.

 

 

 

He tore open both shopping bags and dumped them on the table. Absently, he ripped open a Hurricane bar and bit into it. He picked up a beer, the three boxes with the toys and the lube, and, with the chocolate gripped in his teeth, he returned to the bathroom. He opened the boxes and tumbled the toys into the sink. When he was with Anya, she had loved toys and wanted to explore all kinds and shapes. Having read all kinds of sex books, Anya had always insisted that new toys should be washed before use, and washed even better afterwards. Eventually, she talked him into letting her try one on him. It had frightened him how much he’d liked it. When she’d left, he’d tried larger ones than he’d ever let her near him with. He knew it had been an attempt to fill the emptiness of loosing her.

 

 

 

Now he felt empty again. He lined up the items he’d gathered on a shelf by the tub, lit a few candles, turned off the lights and, with a shrug, sprinkled in some herbal bath salts. As he settled into the steaming water, he let himself think back to Anthony and the day he’d been claimed.

 

 

 

 

Anthony wanted him around. That was what Xander kept coming back to. This meant something, it was permanent. Sure, Anthony had not declared his love or devotion, but the guy was a vampire after all. Yeah, sure, Spike loved Buffy, and so had Angel. It did happen. Anya had loved him. Demons did love. Anthony, apparently did not operate that way. Maybe… maybe this was the only way Anthony could show him. After all, Xander hadn’t let him in; hadn’t let Anthony fuck him.

 

 

 

His decision made, Xander called for a guard and arranged for a pleaser to bathe him and brush his hair. The young man who tended him could have been anyone for all the attention Xander paid. He was thinking about Anthony and what he wanted to do. After he was cleaned, pampered, and oiled, he sent the boy away to send word to Anthony requesting an audience.

 

 

 

“Xander,” Anthony said, smiling slightly. “I’m glad you chose to join me this evening.” With the grace of a gentleman showing a visitor into his grand manor house, Anthony escorted Xander to a chair before sitting on his own.

 

 

 

Xander had been confident until he’d actually stepped into Anthony’s rooms. The tall vampire had been wearing a red silky robe with golden lions around the hem that Xander had never seen. He was like a chieftain with a tribe of one. Xander swallowed and worried the cuff of the plain, light robe he’d put on. “Um. Yeah. Me, too.”

 

 

 

“Xander,” Anthony said gently. “You certainly look fine this evening.”

 

 

 

“You do, too.”

 

 

 

Xander looked shyly away until Anthony softly called his name. “Xander?”

 

 

 

Xander practically leapt from his chair and kneeled at Anthony’s feet where he sat in his throne-like chair. “Anthony,” he said, his voice thick with emotion. “I want to be claimed and… I want you to take me, use me in any way you wish.”

 

 

 

Anthony put his hand on Xander’s soft hair and looked down into his eager brown eye. “You know that’s not a requirement.”

 

 

 

“I do know that. But it’s what I want.”

 

 

 

 

Xander closed his eye to the flickering candle light and could see only Anthony in his fine robes as he stood, drawing him up and leading him back to his sleeping room. He could felt he strong brown hands on his and remembered the rare warm grin his lover wore. Xander wrapped his hand around his hardening cock as he thought about what happened.

 

 

 

 

It was Xander’s first time to see Anthony’s inner haven. The walls were tapestry covered as outside, but here there was a orderliness that wasn’t in the public room. Only a single layer of carpets lay smoothly on the floor. Several paintings of landscapes hung neatly around a low bed that, apart from a chest of drawers and a small table, was the only furniture in the room.

 

 

 

“Xander,” Anthony murmured. “I was hoping you would one day let me in. I admit I was jealous of those you took to your bed in my stead.” He pulled Xander into his arms and kissed him gently on the lips.

 

 

 

“I… I didn’t mean anything against you, Anthony.”

 

 

 

“I realize that. I am not offended. You were only safeguarding the only thing left to you.” He laid his long fingered hand on Xander’s chest over his heart. “I will do my best to not betray your confidence.”

 

 

 

 

Xander ran his free hand over his chest, remembering how Anthony had taken off his light robe and laid him on the bed. He had stepped back and revealed his own lean body. Xander’s cock throbbed at the image of his lover’s tall, brown body.

 

 

 

 

“You are beautiful, my Xander. This life is hard, but it has chiseled your body into a living sculpture. I have long wanted to worship it properly.”

 

 

 

Anthony’s body was cool against his own as the vampire reversed their positions from the outer room and knelt beside the bed. He bent over to kiss Xander and caress his body.

 

 

 

“I want you against me, please,” Xander breathed after Anthony had adored every part of him.

 

 

 

“Of course, my own,” Xander’s cock jumped at the new endearment. Anthony chuckled. “Poor sweet, you want to belong as much as I want to claim.” Anthony lay atop Xander, their hard cocks rubbing together.

 

 

 

“I do. Gods, yes I do.”

 

 

 

“You’ve thought everything over?”

 

 

 

“I know there’s no going back, and I trust you, Anthony. I’m so very happy you want to keep me around.”

 

 

 

Anthony chuckled and thrust his hips to press his cock against Xander’s abs. “You’re the best thing that’s been presented to me in over forty years, Xander. I would be foolish indeed to turn away a treasure like you.”

 

 

 

“How?” Xander asked, then just kissed Anthony instead.

 

 

 

“How? Or When?” Anthony pulled back and looked down at him.

 

 

 

“Which do you want to do first?”

 

 

 

“I want to make love to you, Xander, then we will sleep. Then I want to claim you and have you again. It was as my sire did it. It allowed me to feel the… connection my drinking your blood will create.”

 

 

 

“I thought you said there wasn’t any mystical effects.” Xander hesitated.

 

 

 

“For only as long as your blood is within my system. Are you still agreeable?”

 

 

 

“About both? Yes. Fuck me, Anthony.”

 

 

 

Xander picked up the bumpy dildo and ran his hand over it, feeling each progressively bigger section. Even as he wondered how much of it he could slip inside, he knew it hadn’t been that long and his body would eagerly take it all. He picked up the KY and cursed as he remembered the chemical water based lube wasn’t like the oil that was available in the caves.

 

 

 

He raised up out of the water to his knees, his body steaming in the warm air of the bathroom, and leaned on the edge of the tub. He slicked up the toy and pressed it into his body as he allowed himself to remember that night.

 

 

 

Anthony reached to a small lamp on the table and picked up the upper portion of it. It was then Xander realized it was a warming stand for a small jar of oil. “You knew I’d give in,” Xander said.

 

 

 

He knelt between Xander’s upraised knees beside the bed. “No, Xander. I hoped. I have been warming oil here for many months, hoping you would give yourself to me. It is a great honor, and I respect you for it.” Xander watched Anthony’s long graceful hands as he poured a small pool of oil into his palm. He lightly touched Xander’s hard cock with the fingertips of his other hand. “May I?”

 

 

 

“I’m yours Anthony. You can do what you want.”

 

 

 

Anthony chuckled, his voice deep and rich. “Very well. What I want is for you to remember you must do the same.” Anthony ran a finger down and around Xander’s balls, stroking the furry sac. With a smile, he dipped that finger into the pool of oil and continued his trip. Gently, he circled Xander’s opening.

 

 

 

Xander rubbed the tip of the toy against himself, remembering Anthony’s careful touch. He’d fingered Xander before, even slipped in a finger or two as he’d sucked Xander’s cock. His careful touch always made Xander feel special and cherished. It was so unlike the touch of those he had hired to do the same. Xander pressed the toy in, allowing himself to remember how Anthony touched him. The long buried memories shocked him with their intensity. He forgot about the feeling of the toy as each larger section sank into his body. He didn’t notice the flickering candle that was so like those in Anthony’s room, and instead of the fragrant bath salts, he smelled Anthony’s musk.

 

 

 

Anthony gently prepared his lover, watching as Xander rolled his head on the pillow and clutched the sheets. “Anthony…” he breathed.

 

 

 

“Am I hurting you, Xander?”

 

 

 

“God, no. I want you, Anthony. I want you in me. Please.”

 

 

 

Anthony kissed Xander’s sweating thigh and carefully removed his fingers. “I need more oil.”

 

 

 

Xander watched as Anthony again poured oil into his palm, then wrap his fingers around his own hard cock. “You’re bigger then most of them,” Xander said, swallowing.

 

 

 

“I know. Changed your mind?”

 

 

 

“No. No.” He met his lover’s eyes. “Please.”

 

 

 

No more was said beyond endearments and encouragements as Anthony sank slowly into Xander’s ready body. When Xander’s body relaxed and accepted him, Anthony started to thrust slowly, with long smooth strokes. Xander could only focus on the feeling he’d been denying himself. Long he had wanted Anthony’s hard cock inside him, and now he’d opened himself up in every way. A weight he’d not known was on his heart had been lifted. He looked in wonder up at the deep brown eyes of the vampire he’d taken for a lover and now trusted more than anyone in the world. The candlelight made the jewels braided in Anthony’s hair wink and sparkle, reminding Xander of his deadliness as a fighter, even as he wondered at his tenderness as a lover. Xander decided his demon magnet status had finally been to his benefit.

 

 

 

Anthony stroked his lover’s sweating face and ran his hand down to rest on his chest. This human’s heart was strong in many ways. That he had opened himself up to him, a soulless vampire, was a source of wonder. That he was going to claim him and share a stronger bond thrilled him. Xander gasped up at him, gazing with a lust-clouded eye. For a second, Anthony wished he could see his reflection in that perfect brown. Many times Xander had called him handsome with an edge of a deeper emotion. Anthony knew he wasn’t attractive in the typical way. His nose was large, his forehead high, and his limbs long with bony joints. But when this special human called him handsome, something no one but his sire had before, he felt it. After many long minutes, Anthony lay down atop Xander and kissed him gently. “You’re so hot, Xander. Like banked coals around me.”

 

 

 

“Anthony…I’ve never felt this…complete before.”

 

 

 

“Xander…” Anthony said, reaching between them. As his oil-slicked hand wrapped around Xander’s leaking cock, he spilled within his human lover. As Xander felt Anthony’s cock thicken and throb with in him as the vampire’s thrust lost rhythm, he came, too.

 

 

 

Xander balanced on his knees in the water. His left pressed the dildo all the way in, jiggling it and making it rub against his prostate. His right hand wrung an orgasm from his cock, splashing on the down stroke. Spent, Xander splashed back down in the water. Numbly, he sat the toy on the side of the tub as his heart rate slowed.

 

 

 

For all his strength, Anthony’s lean body was light to Xander as he lay upon Xander’s chest, listening to the human’s heart regain it’s steady pace. He breathed deep the scents of Xander’s clean hair where it lay spread on the pillow beneath them, and their musk and sweat as it mingled.

 

 

 

Anthony tried to rise, only to feel Xander’s arm tighten around him. “Don’t go,” Xander said sleepily.

 

 

 

Anthony relaxed again. “I’m not going anywhere.”

 


Chapter 27

Xander became aware of the cooling water and kicked the drain open. With a sigh, he drained his beer and stood up. As he dried off with a soft, clean towel, he thought about the hot springs and how he would dry Anthony off after they’d soaked. The towels there were little better than cheap, stained hotel grade rags. He dropped the wet towel on the floor and grabbed up a dry one, the lube, and the other toy.

 

 

 

He tossed the towel on the bed and opened another beer. Ah, beer. Not as strong as the fermented whatever they would get once in a while after games, but smooth and plentiful. He drained the second beer and threw himself on the bed. “Mattresses. That’s another good benefit of civilization,” Xander giggled to himself. He picked up the phallic, pale flesh colored dildo and contemplated it. “Flesh colored,” he scoffed. “Depends on whose flesh. And it’s certainly not life sized.”

 

 

 

Xander finished off the second beer and lay back with his eye closed. One hand made its way to the scar high on his leg and traced it.

 

 

 

Xander awoke from his post-orgasmic nap to find Anthony still draped across his body. The vampire felt him awaken and propped himself up on one elbow. “Hey, sleepy,” Anthony said softly, and brushed a stray hair form Xander’s forehead. “Are you hungry?”

 

 

 

Xander chuckled and wrapped his arms around Anthony’s narrow body. It was no problem for him to grasp his own elbows. “You know me too well.”

 

 

 

“You have to let me go so I can get your food.”

 

 

 

“Humm,” Xander considered. “Sexy vampire bod or food.”

 

 

 

“I have a special treat, and I will come back.”

 

 

 

“Well, in that case…” Xander kissed the center of his chest and let him go, stretching on the comfortable bed.

 

 

 

Anthony returned from the other room with a covered tray. “If sir would sit up, please.”

 

 

 

Xander blushed a little at this powerful man waiting on him, playing the role of servant he’d held as a human. Xander saw the fond expression he wore and played along. He leaned up against the wall and rubbed his hands together. “What goodies do you have for me this night, my good man?”

 

 

 

Anthony sat a tray on the bed and whipped aside a cloth to reveal a fresh red apple, a piece of chocolate and a small dish with a lid. “If you will allow me?” Anthony picked up the apple and a knife and deftly cut out a slice. He held it up and took the lid off the dish. “And the highlight…”

 

 

 

A piece of honeycomb, thick with honey lay on the dish. Xander grinned hugely. The honey in Africa made American honey taste like sugar water. Anthony dipped the apple slice in the honey and fed it to his lover. Xander ate the treat bite by bite from Anthony’s hands and sucked the last traces of honey off Anthony’s fingers.

 

 

 

“You like that?” Anthony asked.

 

 

 

“Yes. Thank you, Anthony. We’re out of food and there’s some honey left.”

 

 

 

“We can save it for later.” Anthony moved to set the tray aside.

 

 

 

“I think I can find a use for some of it,” Xander said wickedly.

 

 

 

“Do you now?” Anthony smiled. “Let me wash up and I will return.”

 

 

 

When Anthony came back, Xander pressed him to the bed. He smiled at the hardening brown cock before him. Carefully, he dipped two fingers into the honey and drizzled it over him. “Like caramel on a chocolate sundae,” Xander murmured before licking off the stickiness. Soon, he drew the hard cock deep in his mouth and played with the foreskin, slipping his tongue under and around it as he worked the shaft with his hand. Soon, Anthony moaned and spent in Xander’s mouth.

 

 

 

He chuckled. “Come up here, you wicked human.”

 

 

 

Xander gladly obeyed and lay in his lover’s arms. Anthony ran his fingers through his hair as he often did. “It would be a shame to weight these beautiful locks down with gems.”

 

 

 

“I don’t want to be in the killing matches, Anthony.”

 

 

 

“I know. I know. While I will keep you from it as long as I can, I fear it may be forced on you one day.” Xander shuddered and Anthony held him tight. “Let’s not talk of such dark things. How do you feel?” He tilted Xander’s head up and looked him in the eye.

 

 

 

“Rested, fed, a little stretched,” he chuckled. “And loved. I love you Anthony,” he thought silently.

 

 

 

“Good. I would very much like to claim you, Alexander Harris.”

 

 

 

“I would very much like for you to do that,” he said, adopting Anthony’s formal speech.

 

 

 

Anthony poured oil into his palm, then slicked his cock which was once again hard. Then he kissed Xander deeply, savoring the sweetness of apple, chocolate, and honey mingled with the bitterness of his cum. Soon, he moved to Xander’s throat and rested his lips there, tonguing the pulse. Xander arched his neck and moaned as he pressed his broad hands to Anthony’s narrow back.

 

 

 

He continued his unhurried progress, licking and kissing his way to Xander’s dripping cock. His boy was hard and wanting. Anthony could not resist sneaking a taste of Xander’s pre-cum. making him gasp. “I don’t want you coming just yet,” Anthony said softly.

 

 

 

“When can I?” Xander asked, looking down at his lover where he lay between his legs.

 

 

 

Anthony smiled and allowed his face to turn to that of the demon’s. “After I bite you.” Xander shuddered and nodded, wanting and needing to know what it would feel like.

 

 

 

Anthony opened is mouth wide, letting Xander see his teeth with all their sharp points, and bit deep in Xander’s leg.

 

 

 

Unintentionally, Xander scratched at the scar with one hand as he worked his cock with the other. Anthony had bitten him a number of times after that, but it was never as powerful an event.

 

 

 

The pain was sharp at first, then the tide of his blood was pulled to Anthony’s mouth and a dizzying euphoria took it’s place. Xander closed his eye and let himself go, trusting Anthony to not kill him, to take him from the brink and keep him safe.

 

 

Anthony wrapped his hand around Xander’s cock, making him come with just two practiced tugs. He forced himself to take no more than four swallows of Xander’s rich blood. It was so thick and powerful, it was an effort to shake off the demon and please his partner. He crawled up the bed and wrapped Xander’s body in his arms. “Xander. I want to take you again. I want you to feel the heat your blood gives me within you.”

 

 

“Anthony,” Xander whispered. “Fuck me, master.”

 

 

 

“I am not your master, Xander. Just your lover.” Anthony tipped more oil onto his cock and wasted no time pressing it into the still-ready body of his lover.

 

 

 

Xander picked up the slicked phallus and pushed it in roughly all at once as Anthony had mounted him that day. The sudden, shocky pain sent him into orgasm even as he had come a second time that day.

 

 

 

Anthony buried himself deep with one thrust, Xander’s blood making his body hot and his senses boil. It was an effort to not shift to game face, as Xander called it, throw himself on his trusting lover, and drain the rest of his blood. Instead, he pounded roughly into

 

Xander and came hard, spilling deep in. The sight of Xander’s cock spurting again without being touched made his heart swell.

 

 

 

Anthony pulled himself out reluctantly and grabbed up a bandage he’d made ready. He allowed himself to lick the would clean before casting a minor healing spell to stop the bleeding. He pressed the bandage in place and rolled Xander on his side. The groggy human was smiling stupidly. Anthony remembered how his sire had claimed him and the euphoria of blood loss it brought. He curled up behind Xander and drew up a blanket tight around them both.

 

 

 

“Sleep now, Xander. I will watch over you and feed you again when you awaken.”

 

 

 

Xander rolled away from the towel and curled up with his back to the room. He stared unseeing at the dresser as the blanket partly obscured his good eye. “Oh, Anthony. Why didn’t I say what I felt that night? Why didn’t you?” Tears ran from his eye and the sealed, empty socket itched as it did when he cried. You had to cry quietly so no one would know when you did. It was a lesson he’d learned as a child that had served him well in the tunnels.

 

 

 

He heard a door close somewhere in the house and pulled himself together. He had no idea how much time had passed or when Spike would come up. Part of him regretted inviting the vampire. He roughly wiped the cum from his body and hand. Then he took a swipe at the scar he’d made bleed again. It was something he never meant to do, but found it had happened again and again. Mechanically, he collected the towel and toy and made his way to the bathroom, drying his tears with a clean corner of the towel. He washed himself and everything, then stuffed the evidence away in the back of a drawer.

 

 

 

Still no vampire and the house was quiet. He opened another beer, drank deeply, and stared at the DVD collection. Perhaps some distraction from the past would do him some good. His hand twitched toward Star Trek season two, then fell to his side. Remembering dialog and plot points of the original series had been part of what had kept him sane in the early days. Before Anthony. Some after. Now he found he didn’t want to know what he’d gotten wrong. His eye fell on a stack of CD’s and he thought of Oz coming to his rescue. There was his balm. Patsy Cline. The music of misery.

 

 

 

As she sang sweetly to him of loneliness and tears, he sat on the reading chair and looked out at the yard. A window was such a luxury. Everything in his life was a luxury now, except being back in it. Poor Buffy. No wonder she’d acted so crazy back then. He found his hand was resting on the scar again and Xander tucked that hand behind his head as he drained the beer. It had felt good to masturbate and to let off some tension. He let himself think of Anthony’s body and the way he’d claimed him again.

 

 

 

When Xander realized the flesh visualized as he came was porcelain white and not chocolate brown, he put it down to memories of the pleasers he’d hired, and drank another beer.

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

As is the nature of sequels, each Spiderman movie got progressively worse and viewers went to bed until Oz, Gunn, and Spike were the only ones left. They were playing a half-hearted drinking game where the rules kept changing. When his friends started for the third time about the benefits of having sticky fingers and sex against a wall, Spike slipped out of the dark room.

 

 

 

He went to the kitchen to raid his stash of beer from the cupboard, only to find it depleted. The guys in the movie room had been drinking domestic beer, so… Spike frowned and took the stairs two at a time.

 

 

 

He didn’t have to put his ear to the door to hear Patsy Cline playing. Spike gently knocked. He heard Xander groan and knocked again louder. “Stop that noise! Go torture someone else. I’ve been good.”

 

 

 

Spike opened the door and took in the scene. Xander lay sprawled on the rug under the ceiling fan. He was naked, with his hair wild around him. Beer bottles, chocolate wrappers, and the yellow rings of Funyuns were scattered on the rug around him. Spike scented blood, and rushed in to make sure Xander hadn’t hurt himself.

 

 

 

“Hey, Bleachball! Where you been?” Xander asked stupidly.

 

 

 

Xander shifted, and Spike could see the scar on his leg had been scratched and a tiny trail of dried blood smeared out from it. “I’ve been watching movies, mate. Looks like you’ve had your own one-man frat party.”

 

 

 

Xander giggled. “Frat party would be fun. There’d be more than one man. But I don’t like frat guys. I like ‘um more… bumpy.” Xander grabbed Spike’s leg and blinked up at him. “Can you be bumpy for me, Spike?”

 

 

 

Spike stood unmoving and pushed down the snarky, but true replies that he could make all kinds of things bumpy for him. Instead, he sighed. “Let’s get you cleaned up and into bed.”

 

 

 

“Oh! Action!”

 

 

 

“Hardly. How did you manage to get more food on the carpet than in your mouth?” Spike asked as he bent to grab Xander’s arms and a crispy snack crunched under his boot.

 

 

 

“Bag exploded. I’m out of practice.” Spike pulled Xander to his feet and the man wrapped his arms around him. Spike stared back into the honest brown eye that was suddenly close to his. “And why did I ever think those tasted good, anyway?” Xander whispered confidentially.

 

 

 

“I don’t know why you eat half the things you do,” Spike said and hauled Xander to the bed.

 

 

 

“This from a guy who dunks cookies in blood.”

 

 

 

“That’s right, mock a guy’s handicaps.”

 

 

 

Xander sat heavily on the bed and looked blearily up at Spike as he brushed snack bits from his back. “I never thought of you as handicapped, Spike. Even chipped, you had it going on.”

 

 

 

“Sure. Right.” Spike pulled the covers back and tipped Xander over.

 

 

 

“Really. You always kept your ‘big bad’ going on. Wanna join me, Spike?” Xander asked coyly. “Blankets are warm.”

 

 

 

Spike tossed the covers over Xander and went to turn off the stereo. “Not so much, Xander.”

 

 

 

Xander sighed and wrapped himself up in the blankets. Spike watched his friend curl up and snuggle in. He switched off all the lights but a lamp and quietly started picking up the beer bottles before Xander tripped over them in the night.

 

 

 

“Hey, Spike,” Xander said long after Spike thought he was asleep.

 

 

 

“Yeah, mate?”

 

 

 

“I don’t want to go tomorrow.”

 

 

 

“Go where?”

 

 

 

“Anywhere,” Xander said, his voice muffled. “I don’t want to leave my bed and I don’t want to talk to anybody.”

 

 

 

“I’ll put up the do not disturb sign.”

 

 

 

“I have one of those?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. And your door has a lock, too.”

 

 

 

“Really? Damn. Do that, then. Both of them.”

 

 

 

Spike shook his head in amusement, “Should I lock the door as I leave?”

 

 

 

Xander sat up. “No. No. You stay.”

 

 

 

“I thought you didn’t want to talk to anybody.”

 

 

 

Xander clutched the blanket like a frightened three year old. “You’re not them. You’re you.”

 

 

 

“Okay. I think I follow.” Spike hung out the sign and locked the door. He looked over to Xander, who continued to watch him. Spike crossed to the mini fridge and got out a bottle of water. He opened it and sat on the edge of the bed. “Here, drink this.”

 

 

 

Xander took the bottle, but continued to look at Spike. “You’re the only one who understands.”

 

 

 

“Probably so. Drink.”

 

 

 

Xander absently took a big swallow. “Water. I love this plastic taste.”

 

 

 

“Only the best. Finish it. You’re going to be sick enough tomorrow.”

 

 

 

“Maybe.” Xander drained the bottle and threw it on the floor. “Do you care enough to hold my hair when I barf?”

 

 

 

“We’ll see. Go to sleep now, Xander.”

 

 

 

Xander laid down and kept watching as Spike cleaned up. “Spike?” he said after a while.

 

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

 

“You’ll be here in the morning?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I got no where to go.” He stood beside the bed until Xander was deeply asleep. He could only sort of understand what the man had been through, and hoped he wouldn’t let him down.

 

 

 

Spike picked up what he could of the fake onion flavored snacks. The heavy smell of them clouded his senses, and he didn’t think Xander would appreciate them in the morning. He dropped them in the toilet and flushed them away. Xander’s wristbands lay on the counter. He must have taken them off before getting in the bath. Curious what Jen had added, he picked them up and looked inside. Next to the glyph for home was a symbol that could only be a railroad spike. The vampire shook his head. Whatever white magic the woman worked, she certainly was observant. He put the bands back, turned, picked up the towel Xander had left on the floor, and lifted the lid on the clothes hamper to drop it in. An unexpected scent cocktail of Xander’s sweat, cum, blood, and tears, hit him and he instantly grew hard.

 

 

 

“Christ,” Spike cursed. He closed the lid and sat on it. He didn’t want to go there. There was nothing about Xander that wasn’t attractive, but Spike couldn’t go there. It wasn’t right to take advantage of him. A big part of Spike wanted to give in, to comfort Xander in any way he asked, but that wasn’t the best way to build a relationship. Spike paused and stared at the empty mirror. “Relationship? Who said anything about a relationship?” he murmured. Spike closed his eyes and let the pieces fall into place. Why wouldn’t it work, eventually? Hell, Xander had taken a male vampire lover in Africa, so why wouldn’t he take one now? Hadn’t the man flirted with him in half a dozen ways? Of course, he may have just been needing to make himself feel attractive after all he’d been through. So he was back to the fine line between making Xander fell less like a monster and more like an attractive human being. Damn it, Spike would just have to occasionally claim his own alone time.

 

 

 

Spike stood and opened the hamper again. He pulled out the towel and let the scents wash over him. With a tug, he popped the buttons on his fly and pushed his jeans to his hips. With his eyes closed, imagining he’d given in, licked the bleeding scar, and nuzzled the heavy sac, he pulled his hard cock to completion and added his own fluids to the towel.

 

 

 

He spent the rest of the night on the comfy reading chair alternately watching Xander sleep and staring out at the moonlit yard.

 

 


Chapter 28

Xander woke up to his stomach roiling and his head throbbing. First thought: What did they ferment to get that potent a batch of grog? He rolled over and opened his eye. Second thought: No. I’m home. No post-fight grog. Who knew Spike’s imported beer was so strong?

 

He opened his eye without moving and immediately saw Spike. He was asleep, sprawled in the reading chair with his head to one side and a book held in his left hand. He reminded Xander of a painting of a woman all in orange asleep in the sun that Tara had shown him in a book once, even though Spike was a study in black and white. He could see the book Spike held with his finger closed in place like a bookmark. It was the slim volume of poetry called “101 Famous Poems.” Xander had taken it from the library the other day while he had been looking for a poem he wanted to read.

 

Xander studied Spike’s relaxed features. There was a softness there that was never present when the vampire was awake, and he appeared a lot less, well, dangerous. Spike shifted in his sleep, throwing his right arm up over his head. This increased the likeness of the painted woman’s pose so much he almost giggled. Spike’s t-shirt pulled up and a wedge of pale flesh was revealed. Xander’s eye was drawn to it. The morning sun through the necro tinted window shaded in the arch of a stomach muscle. Damn it, Xander thought, I wanked myself silly last night, my head is spinning, and I have to pee like a racehorse, yet all I want to do is go over and pull that shirt up some more. Plus back to the whole it’s Spike thing…

 

“You finally awake?” Spike asked, making Xander guiltily shift his attention back to Spike’s face.

 

 

 

“Yeah. I think so.” Xander tossed off the warm covers and headed for the bathroom. “Excuse me.”

 

Spike’s chuckle followed him. “I’m still not sure about holding your hair for you if you barf.”

 

Xander opened the toilet lid and wondered why there were bits of Funyuns floating in the bowl as he relieved himself. He hadn’t been sick, had he? Xander thought that during his time in Africa his stomach had learned that if it managed to get anything like food, it had better keep hold of it. He washed his hands and peered at himself in the mirror. His long hair was a tangled mess and bits of yellow clung to it. He vaguely remembered attempting a taste test between Funyuns and Reese’s Peanut Butter cups. Damn, he’d been very drunk. What had he said to Spike? Worse, what had he left laying around?

 

Xander’s eye widened and he spun around to inspect the bathtub. Apart from a candle that had burned down and puddled on the side of the tub and a half-eaten chocolate bar on the shelf, there was no sign of his sport the night before. Xander leaned on the sink and thought back. He was sure he’d cleaned everything up and stuffed it in a drawer before opening his fourth beer. Yeah. Then he’d put on Patsy Cline and the rest of the evening was a blur.

 

Apart from the Funyuns.

 

Xander frowned at himself in the mirror and tried to pick out a bit of food. He crossed to the door and leaned into the bedroom, keeping most of his body shielded. Spike still sat where he had been and was reading once again, this time some thick paperback. “Hey, Spike?”

 

“Yeah, mate?”

 

“I’m going to shower.”

 

“That’s probably best. I’ll clean up out here while you do.”

 

Xander looked around the room for the first time. Bits of snacks lay all over the carpet and the bed was a tangled mess. The empty beer bottles sat neatly by the door in their cardboard carriers. “You don’t have to do that.”

 

“Are you in any shape to do it?”

 

“Uh… no.”

 

“Then I will. If I’m going to hang out up here with you, like you asked, then I’ll hang out in a clean room. Those onion things smell foul, but you owe me one.”

 

“Thanks, Spike. Uh…” he wanted to ask about the toys. A part of him just knew he’d left some tell-tale evidence of his date with Rosey Palm and her five sisters… and their brother Pug.

 

“What?” Spike lowered his book and cocked a brow at him.

 

Xander hesitated. At least Spike wasn’t teasing him about if he had, and if he said anything, that would just give the vampire teasing fodder. Not that the vampire had been teasing him too hard lately, which was strange, now that he thought about it.

 

“Earth to Whelp!” Spike finally said.

 

“Uh… I didn’t barf last night, did I?”

 

Spike grinned. “No. I guess you’ve grown an iron stomach. I remember being able to send you running with just stories.”

 

Xander ducked his head. “Yeah. That you could. You knew all my buttons and pushed them al the time, you evil bastard.” He closed the door, went to the shower, and turned the spray on hot.

 

Spike unlocked the door and crossed to the sewing room. Midra looked up from where she was cutting out a pattern. “How’s Xander? He didn’t seem too happy last night.”

 

Spike paused, studying Midra’s neat work before answering. “We knew he’d have to break before he could heal. I think the cracks are showing. He drained two six packs of my beer last night. ”

 

“We’ll leave you be, then. How about later I bring up a nice non-threatening brunch?”

 

“Good idea. Man’s got all kinds of candy squirreled away, but nothing good. I’m going to clean up the mass he made,” Spike said as he wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.

 

“I’ll help if you wish,” Midra offered.

 

“No. He’s in the shower and who knows if he’d be happy showing off his naughty bits unexpectedly.”

 

“Leave it by the door. I’ll take care of it when you’re done.”

 

“You’re a peach, Midra,” and wheeled out the vacuum cleaner.

 

“Not as peachy as you, vampire,” she said quietly.

 

Spike paused and listened to Xander cursing Funyuns and all things Frito Lay under the sound of the shower. He ran the cleaner around quickly and efficiently, then listened again as he coiled the cord. Xander’s string of curses had progressed to shampoos, their heavy bottles, and their inevitable ability to land on your toes. Figuring the man would be busy for a while, Spike sat the machine in the hall beside the beer bottles, dashed to his room and returned with a few key items.

 

When Xander finally had his hair less like a movie theater floor and came out with a towel around his hips, Spike was sitting at the table in his gray lounge clothes typing on a sleek black laptop he’d opened beside Xander’s.

 

“Where’d that come from?” Xander asked, toweling his hair.

 

“My room. And don’t get water on her!”

 

“Her?” Xander scoffed.

 

“You call powerful machines her, don’t you? Misty’s state of the art.” Spike ran a finger over the top of the screen with pride and reeled off a string of megas and gigas that completely lost Xander as he pulled on a pair of soft, loose pants.

 

“You need that much umph to look at porn?”

 

“Doesn’t hurt, mate,” Spike smirked. “Sit down and I’ll help you set up your computer.”

 

Spike engaged Xander’s attention setting up his e-mail and showing him new programs for an hour before he started to fidget. Spike cocked an ear at the door. “Are you hungry, Xander?”

 

Xander looked at the pile of snacks on the table and frowned. “Kinda.”

 

“Go look outside,” Spike said dismissively.

 

Puzzled, Xander opened the door, or tried to, because it was locked. “Oh, yeah. I have a lock.” He unlocked the door and opened it to find a tray on a small table, and no one in the hall. Xander picked it up and bumped the door closed behind him.

 

“Okay, Houdini, how did you do that?”

 

“Midra was in the sewing room this morning. I just heard her deliver it.”

 

“Smart ass.”

 

Xander ate silently, playing with downloading files as he did. Spike didn’t want him slipping into a brood again. “Would you like to spar today?”

 

“No,” Xander answered absently, not looking at Spike.

 

“Okay, then. Do you mind if I send some e-mails?”

 

“Why would I?” Xander shrugged.

 

Spike shifted his computer a bit and typed rapidly. Xander finished his meal and wandered to the stack of books by the chair. He picked up a random one and went to the bed. He flipped back the blanket, paused, and said over his shoulder, “You changed the sheets. They were blue before.”

 

“Yeah. So?”

 

“Thanks,” Xander said and slipped under the covers. For a few minutes he watched Spike’s long, sure fingers as they danced over the keyboard. He was divided about being around the vampire today. Spike had said he’d asked him to stay, and very dimly he could remember that. Maybe Spike would get bored, go away, and let him mope in peace.

 

Spike chuckled at something and Xander looked at his profile. Maybe it would be nice to have company. Once in a while, long ago in the basement of doom, they’d had some okay times. Xander dove into his book, hoping to get lost.

 

Spike checked some of the sites he liked and shut down his and Xander’s computers. Xander was sitting against the headboard, slumped down, with his knees up, propping up his book. At least he hadn’t asked him to leave. Spike picked up the book he’d brought from his room and went to the bed. “Can I join you?”

 

“I said you could any time, didn’t I?” Xander said from where he was snuggled down in the covers with his graphic novel, not looking at Spike.

 

Spike climbed in bed, turned with his back to Xander, and opened his paperback.

 

“Come on over, Xander said. “You may as well put your cold feet against me when I’m expecting it.”

 

“What makes you think I’d want to?” Spike asked playfully.

 

“You’re a warmth whore. Like... like all vamps.”

 

“Okay. I’m not one to turn down a snuggle.” Spike shifted and pressed his back and feet against Xander’s side.

 

“Hey! I didn’t say anything about snuggles! Just… foot warming.”

 

“It can’t be snuggles anyway, no one’s arm is around anyone,” Spike said, enjoying Xander’s heat and apparent good humor.

 

They both got comfortable and opened their books. After a while, there was a chuckle from Xander. “What are you reading?” Spike asked.

 

“Sin City,” Xander answered.

 

“That’s not a funny book.”

 

“I guess not. But what was done to the guy with the whited out glasses… I was just imagining doing that to someone in particular.”

 

“Kingpin?” Spike asked softly.

 

“Of course.”

 

“It is a beautiful plan. Tie up the guy with razor wire, cut off bits, and feed them to his own dogs. I suspect we’d have to take our own dogs to Africa..”

 

“We could throw him to the werewolves!”

 

Spike considered it. “No, I think you need a more hands-on approach.”

 

“You’re right.” Xander was suddenly uncomfortable with this line of conversation. “What are you reading?”

 

“Perdido Street Station. It’s kind of… strange but the language is very rich and detailed. I think the best way to describe it is ‘Victorian cyberpunk.’ Giles recommended it.”

 

“Giles recommends books to you? Things have changed.”

 

“Actually, he mentioned it to Gunn, who hated it, so he passed it to Oz, who recommended it to me.”

 

“Have you ever read Rebecca?” Xander asked.

 

“Is that the one Hitchcock made into a movie?”

 

“Never saw the movie, but it was one of Anthony’s favorites. Great book.”

 

“Read a lot, did he?”

 

“Yeah. And in several languages. His sire taught him French, Spanish, German, and some Asian language; maybe Chinese. He was going to teach me some.”

 

“Nice sire he had,” Spike mumbled and turned a page.

 

Xander pushed himself up, sat higher against the headboard, and looked down at Spike. “Didn’t Angelus or Drusilla teach you anything?”

 

“Oh, sure. Lots. How to hunt, torture, main, kill.” Spike emphatically counted off the points on his fingers. “Useful things like that.”

 

“Oh.” Not wanting to stir Spike up, Xander went back to his book.

 

Spike cursed himself. The man was sliding toward brood. If he didn’t keep him talking at this point, he’d close himself off. “When did you see his sire?” Spike asked.

 

“Huh?”

 

“You said you saw DeAmeron once.”

 

“I did. I saw him the day he was dusted,” Xander answered curtly.

 

“Oh.” Maybe he shouldn’t press.

 

Xander tried to go back to his story, but the past intruded.

 

+++

 

“What’s wrong, Anthony?” Xander quietly asked his lover over the noise and tension of the games around them.

 

“I’ve got a feeling I’ve not felt in many years.”

 

“What is it?”

 

“I think… I think my Sire is near.”

 

“Really?” Xander said excitedly, but then saw the worry lines on Anthony’s brow. “But that’s good, isn’t it?”

 

Anthony shook his dark head and the jewels in his hair glinted. “No. If he’s here, he’s been captured.”

 

“He’s clever and old, he can escape.”

 

“If he’s in this far, he won’t leave without finding me, and I am so exposed… I fear for him, Xander.”

 

“Let’s just keep our eyes open. You’ve described him, and I bet I can pick him out. Okay?” Xander patted his lover on the back as if in pre-fight encouragement when all he wanted to do was hug him close.

 

“Yes. Yes. We will make it through this round, then I will try to locate him.”

 

They had grown physically very close in the past year. They would spend many lazy afternoons exploring one another’s bodies and physical limits. Many a night Xander had lain spent in the tall vampire’s arms, wanting to tell him of his love and devotion, but fearing the sting of rejection. Instead, he would express himself with his hands, mouth, cock and body.

 

Now he felt Anthony’s anxiety rolling off him in waves. Xander fought his games poorly and got a bad scratch he should have avoided. Finally, it was Anthony’s round.

 

“Tonight we have a treat for you,” called the unseen announcer. “A vampire of very old blood.” Xander saw Anthon’s back stiffen where he stood out in the ring. “He was caught sniffing around, and you all know what happens to those we catch snooping?”

 

A chant of “death, death, death,” started up among the crowd.

 

The announcer laughed. “That’s right. Death for someone! Will it be our house champion, Anthony, or the old one? Traditional wooden stakes only! Place your bets and let’s find out!”

 

Xander startled when someone touched his arm. He looked down to see his friend the healer beside him. “What is it, Morgan?” he asked, returning his eyes to his companion.

 

“It’s Anthony’s sire, I think. They caught him last night.”

 

“Damn.” Xander tensed, wanting to tell Anthony, to help him, but Morgan held his arm. His apparently brittle hands had surprising strength.

 

“No, Xander. If you make any move into that ring, it will be your death for sure, you know that.”

 

A two foot wooden stake was tossed to Anthony, and he caught it by reflex only. His eyes never left the door on the far side of the ring. Finally the flurry of betting stopped and the door opened. Xander watched as a man a bit shorter than himself, with pale skin and shoulder length dark hair stepped into the ring. Like all fighters, he wore nothing more than a loin cloth and carried his own stake. Xander could not miss the strength and dignity in him.

 

Xander could clearly see the grief in his eyes and read his lips when he said Anthony’s name. The two ran toward one another and the crowd cried out in anticipation. Instead of blows, the two embraced one another. Xander barely acknowledged the cat calls of the crowd and the taunting of the announcer. Only Morgan’s hand kept him from running to them, from calling out. They were talking, but he couldn’t hear them.

 

“Oh, my Anthony. I have found you at last, but how horrible for you to be here.”

 

“Sire. Why did you come? I cannot leave here. They have cursed me and I will die outside this compound.” Anthony cupped his Sire’s face in his hands, looking into the dark eyes he had believed lost to him forever.

 

“I did not mean to get caught, believe me in this. I was betrayed into captivity. We will find a way to end…”

 

“No. No. There is no way. Look. See? They have crossbows trained on us. If we do not fight soon we will both be dust.”

 

“Then dust me, my sweet child.”

 

“No!”

 

“They would have to curse me to keep me here and I could not survive it. I cannot.”

 

“Sire, no, please.”

 

“No, Anthony. I have not had a moment’s joy since I learned you were lost to me. I cannot go on without you any longer. I’ve had more years then most.” DeAmeron pulled Anthony into his arms and kissed his cheek. “I love you, boy. I always did.” Then he shoved Anthony away from him.

 

“Sire!” Anthony’s breath was ragged and he held his weapon at his side. He took a step in his direction like a lost child. “Please!”

 

“Then live for your mate over there.” With that, DeAmeron lunged abruptly at Anthony. Caught off guard, he reacted as he’d been trained. He brought the wooden weapon up, and watched as the beloved face of his Sire turned to ash before him, the last tear in his eye evaporating with the mystical wind.

 

++++

 

Spike could feel Xander grow still; stop turning pages. He was about to ask what was wrong when Xander spoke.

 

“They made Anthony kill his own Sire in a death match, Spike.”

 

It hit Spike like a slayer’s punch. “God damn sons of bitches!” Spike spat, sitting up and facing Xander. “Talk about low.”

 

“I watched it happen,” Xander said sadly, putting aside his book and twisting the covers. “It was a big to-do. They’d brought in fighters from all over and the audience was full. Without warning, they paired Anthony, their top fighter, with one they’d captured. It was DeAmeron.

 

“He had a… powerful presence. Even naked and in the center of a dirt fighting floor, he had this power about him. They talked a little. I couldn’t hear. Then… then DeAmeron looked right at me and said something. Anthony half turned to look at me, and… His Sire almost threw himself on Anthony’s stake.”

 

“Right after he killed his Sire, they let loose another challenger. Didn’t even give him time to recover. The dust was still blowing. I… I’ve never seen anyone fight with so much fury, Spike. Six in a row he killed.”

 

+++

 

Anthony screamed out his anger and grief as another fighter was released into the ring. The cotof demon never had a prayer. Within two minutes, Anthony had ripped off its head and stood covered in gore, looking like a primitive god of fury.

 

Seeing an opportunity to make up for the disappointing fight between the two vampires, they offered losers a chance to redeem themselves. Anthony ripped, bit, and stabbed six opponents to death within fifteen minutes. Finally, Xander could see Anthony weakening, and could watch no more. He pushed forward to the bell that only certain fighters could ring to signal an unfair fight was going on. Morgan followed, clinging to him.

 

As the judgment was being made between the unseen ones who ran the games, Xander watched Anthony first droop, then fall to his knees among the shattered corpses of his victims. The call came down to end the games and the crowd started to filter out. Morgan let go of Xander’s arm at last and he went to Anthony.

 

“Anthony?” The wide brown eyes that turned to him were empty and hollow as if everything were lost. “Hey, let’s go get you cleaned up.”

 

“Leave me alone, human,” Anthony said flatly, standing up with his back straight and walking away.

 

+++

 

“He wouldn’t talk to me for a long time after that. I… I wanted to help him, but he wouldn’t let me.” The loss in Xander’s voice made Spike turn and put his hand on his shoulder.

 

“That was bloody unfair of him, but, to be honest, I can see why he did it.”

 

“Can you, Spike?” Xander cried. “Can you tell me why he acted as if all were lost when he still had me?” Xander’s voice cracked and a tear slid from his eye.

 

Spike dared slip his arm around Xander and pull him close. “A Sire is everything. It sounds like he was everyone to Anthony. His human companions would have been long dead, but as long as DeAmeron was out there, Anthony held some hope of rescue. Even as you thought about Buffy and the intrepid Watcher.”

 

“But he had me, Spike. And I had him. We… kept each other sane.” Xander sighed. “And about the rescue…I know. Honestly. I know that. It’s just that we spent just one evening together talking before I was sent off to fight. He hadn’t sent for me for almost two weeks, then… we were together all night. He didn’t want to talk at all, just… touch me like it was the first, or last time. I left from his quarters that morning.” Xander swallowed and sniffed. “It was right after I came back a week later that he was murdered.”

 

+++++++++

 

Notes:

The painting is “Flaming June” by Lord Leighton Fredric.

“Perdido Street Station” is an awesome book by China Mieville

“Sin City” is the series of graphic novels by Frank Miller.

“Rebecca” is both a wonderful book by Daphne Du Maurier and a film by Alfred Hitchcock.

These are a few of my favorite things.

 


Chapter 29

Somehow, Xander wound up curled against his chest. Spike held him quietly as the man clutched at his shirt, pulling him close without realizing it. Unseen above Xander, he closed his eyes and felt sorrow for the vampire who had cared for Xander and who he would never meet. He wanted to know more, but didn’t want Xander to rabbit and go back to his mope. Spike couldn’t help but think about Angel.

 

 

 

One rare night after the fall of Wolfram & Hart, he and Angel had gotten drunk together. His Sire had talked about the two deaths of Darla; the one he’d caused, and the one he’d witnessed. The great brooding stone face had cracked and he’d actually allowed Spike to hold him as he cried. Of course, the next morning Angel was aloof to him like it had never happened. Typical.

 

 

 

“Spike?” Xander interrupted his thoughts.

 

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

 

“Are we cuddling?”

 

 

 

“Let’s see. We’re in bed, under the covers, and my arms are very much around you. Yep. It’s a cuddle.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Spike sat still wanting to see how Xander would react. He felt Xander tense, relax, let go of his shirt, and lay his hand flat on Spike’s chest. “The way I see it,” Xander said quietly, “I have two ways of reacting to this. I can shove you away and pick a fight or I can stay here where I feel safe and risk you mocking me for being a poofy sissy.”

 

 

 

“So which is it going to be?”

 

 

 

“I’m staying here.”

 

 

 

“Poof. Sissy,” Spike said. Then, after a pause added, “wanker.”

 

 

 

“Hey!” Xander said, getting up, and sitting back on his heels. “What do you know?” Spike opened his smirking mouth to answer but Xander interrupted. “It’s all supposition and you can’t prove a thing … not that anyone’s asking!”

 

 

 

Spike took advantage of this opportunity to distract Xander. He stretched, putting one arm behind his head and running the other across his chest and down to rest on his belly as he spoke. It was a move so like unsouled Spike teasing Buffy that Xander had to blink. “I’ve got a video tape of all the best bits of ‘Fear Factor,’” Spike said.

 

 

 

Xander blinked again, totally thrown off balance by Spike’s actions, his mind’s reactions to those actions, and Spike’s nonsequitur remark. “Huh? I, uh, thought you hated reality TV.”

 

 

 

“Most of it. But this show; it’s got almost-naked pretty people frightened out of their wits, crying, begging, and screaming. The very best bits are where buxom bikini-clad birds have to stick their heads in tanks of blood and fish things out with their mouths.” Spike poked the tip of his tongue against the back of his teeth in delight. “They always show them showering it off in slow motion and the blood running down the drain.” He let Xander gape at him for a few seconds before defusing the situation. “Actually, it makes me hungry, too. Which is perfect, me being a vampire and all.”

 

 

 

Xander’s dismay crumpled to a grin. “Damn it, Spike, just when I forget you’re evil, you have to go and remind me.”

 

 

 

Spike shrugged and put his other hand behind his head. “Just pointing out that I’m the last person in the world to pass judgments on anyone.”

 

 

 

“Well, just stop prowling in my drawers.”

 

 

 

“Huh? There’s something to prowl for? Oh, goodie!”

 

 

 

“Spike! I’m just now remembering there are things like locks and do not disturb signs. Let me have some privacy!”

 

 

 

Spike softened. “Sorry, mate. I won’t prowl.”

 

 

 

Xander picked up his book from where it had fallen aside, flipped through it, sighed, and put it on the bedside table.

 

 

 

“What now, Xander?” Spike asked. Xander shrugged. “We could cuddle some more, I rather liked that,” he said lightly, trying to brighten Xander’s mood. Xander shrugged again, not looking at his friend. Spike put his hand on Xander’s knee. “I know you’ve been through a lot. I know you’ve learned to take care of yourself, and I hope you know to listen to what your instincts tell you. Okay, Xander?”

 

 

 

Xander nodded, looking away to where the sun make bright patches on the carpet. Abruptly, he got up and closed the curtain, blocking all but a glowing edge of light. Spike watched quietly as he checked the door lock and lit a couple of candles before coming back to bed.

 

 

 

“Roll over, Spike. I… I’d like to just hold you for a while.”

 

 

 

“Sure,” Spike said and rolled on his side facing away. He knew it was just as comforting to hold as be held sometimes.

 

 

 

Xander slid under the covers, wrapped an arm around Spike, and, with his head on the pillow, rested his forehead against Spike’s head. He sighed and closed his eye. “Tell me a story, Spike. Something about Sires and those they’ve sired.”

 

 

Spike paused and found the right kind of story to tell. Xander wanted to know why Anthony had left him. Okay, he’d do his best. “Darla found Drusilla. She was a pretty, sweet, innocent who had the power of precognition. As was her wicked way, Darla presented her to Angelus so she could watch what he made of his prize. What he did was to slowly drive her mad by killing all her loving family and tormenting her before siring her.”

 

 

“After some twenty or thirty years, they’d grown bored with their often tiring companion and ignored her. Angelus told her to go make a friend.”

 

 

 

“And she picked you,” Xander said.

 

 

 

“First fool to cross her path, said Angelus. The stars guided her, said Drusilla.”

 

 

 

“I remember hearing her talk about the stars once.”

 

 

 

“She was always getting messages from the stars, or burning baby fish, or her damn dollies. I think she wanted a source other than her own head. Poor Dru. As much as I loved her, it took infinite patience to cope with her sometimes. Once in a while, I would leave her, have an adventure on my own, but I was always drawn back.”

 

 

 

“How would you find her?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

Spike paused. “There is a… pull of family, of blood. If she is around I can feel her. To a lesser degree I can feel Angel, and he me. I think that’s one reason we chafe so.”

 

 

 

“But you said you didn’t know who was following you last time you saw her.”

 

 

 

“It’s like… like a faint song over a fuzzy radio station. Once you pick out the tune, you know who it is. The last person I expected to see was Dru.”

 

 

 

“That’s why Anthony felt so uneasy with his sire around,” Xander said excitedly. “Like Darth Vader sensing Obi Wan!”

 

 

 

“Er… Yeah. Just like that. I’d wager that the shielding on the caves fuzzed their link.”

 

 

 

Xander lay still, listening to the distant sounds in the house and turning over what Spike had told him. He realized they’d never spoken like this before about Spike’s past. “First time I saw you, you called Angel your sire, but Drusilla made you. What’s up with that?”

 

 

 

“Drusilla made me a vampire, but Angelus made me into a right proper demon. Had it just been Drusilla and I, Spike might never have been.”

 

 

 

“I don’t understand.”

 

 

 

“Angelus took me on as a project. My father died when I was young, yeah? And before that he wasn’t around much at all. So when this handsome, charismatic man came along and wanted to bond, I bonded. He taught me… glee in all the wrong things.”

 

 

 

“For almost twenty years we were the Scourge of Europe. The four of us would rain terror wherever we felt the whim. He and I… we were quite the team. You wouldn’t know it when you see how much Angel hates me, but Angelus and I…”

 

 

 

“You and Angel have had a falling out, haven’t you?” Xander asked quietly.

 

 

 

Spike grew still. “Yeah. We have. He wants to play human so… so he won’t talk to me about the old days. I’ve got no one to… It doesn’t matter.”

 

 

 

“You’re wrong, Spike. You can talk to me.”

 

 

 

“Sure, until I start talking about body counts and effective torture methods,” he said dismissively. “I have a soul, but I still like to reminisce once in a while. We have nothing to talk about now.”

 

 

 

Feeling the tension in Spike’s body, Xander laid his hand flat against Spike’s still chest and moved his body a little closer. “You’d be surprised, Spike,” he said quietly into the soft brownish hair. “I’ve done some terrible things myself. I will never brag about them, but… “ Spike felt a shudder run through his body. “I have done things with my soul and without a demon as an excuse.”

 

 

 

“Extreme circumstances lead to extreme actions, Xander. I’m sure you did what you needed to survive.”

 

 

 

“No,” Xander said flatly. “I went mad.”

 

 

 

Spike lay quiet and waited for Xander to say what he would. He pressed Xander’s hand to his chest supportively.

 

 

 

“Anthony was more than my friend. He saved my life. Had he not been there, I would not have made it more than a week... and we were lovers.”

 

 

 

“Nothing wrong with that.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I know.” Xander sighed. “There is no way to keep Warriors from taking what they want, so sex amongst them was not forbidden. Love was. When they fucked it was rough and grab and want and… animal. Without Anthony’s protection, I would have wound up someone’s bitch, I know. After a year, I... we wanted more. We hid it as best we could. I basically belonged to him, so it didn’t cause a stir when I slept in his room. We became as close as two could be under the circumstances. Of course, there were always those after what they couldn’t have, and those who have to mess up what you find good. It was like being back in school with the bullies after me again, but this time I had a protector.”

 

 

 

“And you could fend for yourself, “ Spike added quietly.

 

 

 

“Yeah. Pretty much.” Xander paused, and Spike could feel him tense up and pull him a little closer. “And then…” Xander trailed off, sniffing and worrying the fabric of Spike’s shirt.

 

 

 

Spike reached back with his left hand and petted Xander’s hair. “Xander? What happened? Let it out, Pet.”

 

 

 

“I’d been in a fight at another camp and was wounded. This critter I thought dead actually wasn’t. It clawed my back real bad. The scar’s still there, on my right shoulder.” Spike nodded. He’d noticed the ugly twist of tissue. “I’d been away almost two weeks, I figure, and was taken to the medical ward upon return. He… He came to me that night.”

 

 

 

Xander closed his eye and deeply breathed in the scents of leather, musk, copper, and somehow smoke that were uniquely Spike. He opened the door in his memories he’d been attempting to hold shut all day.

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“Xander?” Anthony said quietly. There were two other humans in the sick ward, pregnant women in their final months of carrying whatever had been planted to grow within them. They were heavily drugged.

 

 

 

“Anthony? What are you doing here?” Punishment for being out of one’s cell after certain hours unescorted was severe.

 

 

 

The tall vampire knelt down beside the low cot. Xander could only lay on his left side, as his shoulder had been badly torn. “I pulled some strings, made some threats, and a bribe or two. I was worried about you.”

 

 

 

Xander was groggy from the potions the healer had given him. He put out a hand and cupped the back of Anthony’s head. “I won. A bunch. You should be proud.”

 

 

 

“I am,” he said, his voice barely above whisper. “And I missed you.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. You, too. I wish I hadn’t had to leave so soon after…” Xander said, unsure of how to approach what he wanted.

 

 

 

Anthony pressed Xander’s hand to his cheek. “Shhh, rest.”

 

 

 

“Anthony?”

 

 

 

“Yes?”

 

 

 

“You said I could ask anything of you.”

 

 

 

“I did.”

 

 

 

“Can I… It’s been so long. Make love to me?”

 

 

 

Anthony looked around the dark room that was illuminated only by a single oil lamp turned low. “Here?”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “Want you.”

 

 

 

“I want you, too. But…”

 

 

 

“Maybe… maybe just a quickie?”

 

 

 

++++

 

 

 

“He should have left. God, he never should have come to start with. But I wanted him, and he wanted me. I asked him to love me. I was sleepy, lonely, horny, and stupid and all the other dwarves. It was late and no one else was about. But… The blood and the desire became too much. It was foolish of us to be intimate in the sick ward, but… but we both wanted so much. Those beds were narrow, but he climbed in behind me, skinny as he was. He licked at my wound as he fucked me, Spike. And it felt so good.” Spike felt Xander draw in an unsteady breath and gripped his hand tightly. “The loving, and the feeding. The healing spell made me sleepy, so I didn’t hear them, Spike. I should have sent him away.”

 

 

 

Xander’s tears were now flowing freely and Spike could smell the salty tang of them.

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

Anthony spat on his hand and readied his lover. When he slipped in, they both felt complete. The wound in Xander’s shoulder was before his face. “Xander,” he growled. “Your scent…”

 

 

 

“Taste me, Anthony. It won’t hurt.”

 

 

 

Xander heard the familiar crackle of bone changing shape, and Anthony eased aside the bandage. Both moaned as he licked the jagged edge of flesh. He stopped after a minute and put the bandage back. “Xander. You still taste so good, so pure.” He thrust more deeply in.

 

 

 

“Anthony. No one can ever fill me like you do.” He felt the vampire pause and raise himself up on one elbow.

 

 

 

“Know this, Xander: You are beautiful. I do love you.” He pounded in, riding Xander’s reaction to orgasm. Then he ripped the large pearl that had been his sire’s death prize from his hair and pressed it into Xander’s hand. “Take this, and remember me,” Anthony said.

 

 

 

Xander opened his mouth and inhaled to reply, to question, and inhaled a flavor he knew too well. Vampire dust. A scant second before he’d been surrounded and filled by someone he loved. The next thing he was aware of was laughter.

 

 

 

+++

 

 

“I felt him raise up on his elbow. Then he pressed this pearl into my hand. This… this was the prize they gave him for killing his Sire. Isn’t that special? ‘You’re so beautiful. I love you, Xander,’ he said. For the first time. For the only time.” Xander took a deep, shaky breath. “I felt him come inside me, and then…” Xander sobbed, leaving Spike to fill in the gap. He could imagine the horror of having a lover vanish from beside you; from within you. “I killed them, Spike,” Xander gasped. “With my bare hands. Three of them. Human men. As the dust and the seed of my lover dripped from my body, I killed them all!”

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“Ohhh, he bit he dust, didn’t he boys?” Xander rolled over. Kyle, the most spiteful human Xander had ever met, brandished a stake and laughed.

 

 

 

“I rekon the big boss will be gad to be shut of his vampire gone soft,” Zack drawled, always the toady to Kyle. “Now you can take his place.”

 

 

 

“What about his pet?” Buddy licked his lips. “Can I have him?”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“One, I ripped his head from his body. The next, I slung by his legs and cracked his spine against a corner wall. The last one, Kyle… I shoved that wooden stake up through his ribcage and into his throat. While the dust of my lover stuck to my body, I killed them.”

 

 

 

Spike rolled over and held Xander tightly as he silently cried. He knew no one else knew this story, no one had been told. “Xander, Xander,” he murmured, comforting.

 

 

“I became their best fighter, Spike, won every match,” he said between sobs. “They put me in the death matches. Anyone and anything they put in the ring with me died, and not always quickly. For a year I didn’t care who I killed, or how. And now… now I can’t stop being a killer like the bastards who killed Anthony.”

 

 

“You can, Xander. You have. You don’t have to kill any more.”

 

 

 

“Not yet. I have to do it again. I can stop after I rip the Kingpin to tiny pieces with my bare hands. I’m as much a monster as they are.”

 

 

 

“I swear on my undead existence, I will help you see that day, Xander. I swear. And, Xander? I know monsters. I am a monster, but you’re not. You’re still a good man, though only God knows how.”

 


Chapter 30

Xander sobbed in Spike’s arms with his hands curled to his chest like a frightened child. Eventually, the sobs gave way to waves of tears, then finally to great, deep breaths, then to sniffles and the inevitable snotty intake of breath.

 

 

 

“You through?” Spike asked, not unkindly. Xander nodded, not untucking his head from Spike’s chest. “Is it tissue time?” Xander nodded again. “Okay. I’m not going far.” Spike unwrapped an arm and snagged the box of tissues from the bedside. He tapped Xander on the shoulder with it, and let him pluck his own.

 

 

 

After a couple of handfuls had been used and tossed aside, Xander rolled to his back. Spike mopped a bit at his shirt, cocking an eyebrow at Xander who had to smile a little. “Sorry.”

 

 

 

“It’s not the most disgusting bodily fluid I’ve had on me.”

 

 

 

“TMI, Spike.” Spike rolled to his back and copied Xander’s pose of staring up at the ceiling. Xander sighed. “I don’t know why he did it, Spike. He could have taken those goons, easily. I know he heard them.”

 

 

 

“I can’t describe how close a Sire is to ya,” Spike said. “Dru… I love Dru more than I love my left gonad sometimes. Even with her evil ways. Your Sire is your parent, your leader, your lover, a… a savior.”

 

 

 

“Savior?”

 

 

 

“Yeah.” Spike sighed “I… I was a mediocre human. I admit it. I never would have been a footnote even had I not been turned. You told me DeAmeron took Anthony from a dead-end life of servitude and gave him eternal youth and strength. Plus, he took him places and treated him good.”

 

 

 

“That’s what he said,” Xander whispered, his throat closing up again. “But, he… Damn it!”

 

 

 

“He left you alone?” Spike asked gently.

 

 

 

Xander nodded, and Spike opened his arms to take Xander back against his chest. “Did I ever tell you about Morgan?” Xander asked after a while.

 

 

 

“No, mate.”

 

 

 

“He was the healer, the shaman. I called him Morgan because he looks like a really, really old Morgan Freeman like in Driving Mrs. Daisy, but shorter and even older. I was, of course, always getting hurt, so I saw Morgan a lot. I could speak something close to his dialect, so we started teaching each other words. He… he is a good man. I want to see if we can get him out of there.”

 

 

 

“Recover Morgan. It’s on the list.”

 

 

 

“I asked him why he stayed, and he told me he was pretty much the last of his tribe. He figured he could stay where his healing magic would always be needed. And he is good, Spike. Damn good. I’d be a mess of scars if it weren’t for him and would have died several times over.”

 

 

 

“Then I know him to be a good man.” Spike murmured.

 

 

 

“The goons had tied him up. Morgan, who had taken care of all of them, they tied him up! He got loose and came in the ward. I can’t imagine what he saw.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

The room stank like the ring. The three who had assaulted him were very thoroughly dead. One of the women had awakened and was crying in her bunk. The bed Xander had been sleeping in was smashed and the man himself stood wild-eyed, covered in blood, sweat, semen, and what could only be the dust of his partner.

 

 

 

Morgan swore an oath and chanted a calming spell. He watched carefully as the adrenaline drained from Xander’s body and he sagged. The spell had the benefit of calming his woman patient as well.

 

 

 

“Xander,” he said calmly, slowly approaching the man. “We have to clean you up a little.”

 

 

 

“What? Why?”

 

 

 

“If it is known you were coupling with Anthony as they attacked, it will not go as well for you. Come on.” Xander looked dumbly down at himself and allowed Morgan to pick his way to a basin and return with a damp cloth. The healer’s touch soothed him as he wiped away the semen and dust.

 

 

 

“That was Anthony,” he said dumbly.

 

 

 

“I know. I let him in.” His task completed, Morgan stood and folded the cloth neatly into a tight square. “I will treat this with respect and hold it for you. Yes?” He tucked it into a pocket of the pouch he always wore.

 

 

 

“Yes,” Xander mumbled. Morgan led him to a bench and sat him down.

 

 

 

“Listen to me, Xander.” He shook his shoulders a little and made him focus. “I have to call alarm. They,” he pointed at the crumpled bodies, “came in here after you. Anthony killed the first two before Kyle killed him. Then you killed Kyle.”

 

 

 

“I killed them all. Killed them too quickly.”

 

 

 

Morgan shook him again. “No, Xander. It is the only story that will fly. Understand?”

 

 

 

Xander looked over at the bodies, down at himself, and then into the caring brown eyes of his healer friend. “Yeah,” he rasped.

 

 

 

“Good, you sit there.”

 

 

 

+++

 

 

 

“There were some inquiries, but with Morgan’s story and the fact they abused him, too, it was all judged justifiable. We said Anthony was defending me, killing two of them, and I… defended him. So I got Anthony’s quarters, privileges.”

 

 

 

“Was that so bad?”

 

 

 

“There was more. They sent me into the ring… a lot. I won and I won and I won. They moved me to the death matches. I killed whatever and whoever they put in there with me. After a few months, when I did what they told me and I was rewarded by… Spike, they gave me Anthony’s job as chooser. I was the one who sealed people’s fates. I said pleaser, fighter, or fodder. I was the one who granted slow death or quick. Like… like the nazis sorting Jews off the cattle trains. Showers or Death. It was all death, Spike.” Xander’s voice cracked. “It was me.”

 

 

 

Spike rubbed circles on Xander’s back. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“And for a while, I didn’t care. I fought and killed. I grew wealthy. I did what they said. There was never any mention of cursing me, because I never tried to leave. I didn’t care enough.”

 

 

 

“What changed it, Pet?”

 

 

 

“A girl. A thirteen year old girl. God. She looked so much like Dawn at that age. As she cowered before me, she had the same sad, shocked look that Dawn did when she discovered she was the key. And do you want to know my first reaction upon seeing her? That I wanted to buy her and keep her in my quarters so I could look at her all day and maybe…” Xander couldn’t say what he’d wanted, that he thought to take her virginity and let no one else touch her. He knew Spike could bridge the gaps. “Last night, when Dawn put her head in my lap…” Xander shuddered.

 

 

 

“It’s okay, mate. It’s okay. I know you would never harm Niblet.”

 

 

 

“I… I bought the right to be sold. Did you know that?”

 

 

 

“I did wonder why they’d let a prize like you go.”

 

 

 

“I had three times the wealth you cut from my hair. From all the killing. Blood money. I knew about the ships to America and I bought the right to be packed up like cattle and brought here. I knew I could be facing a much worse life, but I could take no other way out. Funny. Offing myself was one of the only things I could think about in the beginning. But toward the end… I just wanted to be an America one more time. Never in a million years did I imagine you striding into the hold with a poofy attitude and buying me.”

 

 

 

“Well, I’d been saving my allowance for something special.”

 

 

 

“I don’t think I’m so special.”

 

 

 

“What’s not special about you?”

 

 

 

“I’ve killed so many, Spike. Demons and humans. There were…” he swallowed. “I recognized more than I said on Gunn’s list, because I killed them.”

 

 

 

“If you want, you can just say you know they’re dead, not how. You can borrow the file and he doesn’t even have to be in the room.”

 

 

 

Xander wasn’t listening. He pulled away from Spike and sat on the edge of the bed. He ran his fingers into his hair and clutched it. “I know so many ways to kill. So many… with pikes, stakes, knives, clubs, swords… with just my bare hands.”

 

 

 

Spike moved to kneel in front of Xander where he had his head down and his hair clenched. “Xander?”

 

 

 

“I won the jewels and wore them like I was supposed to. I paraded my status and… I’m a monster,” Xander muttered in self-loathing.

 

 

 

Suddenly, Spike grabbed Xander’s arms, ripping his hands from his hair and hauling him to his feet. “Get dressed!” he gritted, staring a dazed Xander in the eye.

 

 

 

“What? Why?”

 

 

 

“We’re going to the barn.”

 

 

 

Xander tried to wrench away, but the vampire was too strong. “I don’t want to fight!”

 

 

 

“I do!” Spike let him go, scooped up his jeans and threw them at him. “Get dressed or I’ll haul you through the house like this,” he snarled, taking off his lounging pants and grabbing his own jeans.

 

 

 

“You’re serious!”

 

 

 

“Fuck. Yeah.” Spike said, accenting the words by thrusting his legs in the jeans.

 

 

 

Hurriedly, Xander pulled on jeans and a t-shirt, but Spike didn’t give him time to question before he was pulling him down the stairs.

 

 

 

“Spike? What…” Willow asked as a harried and confused Xander was pulled past them where she sat on the couch with Oz.

 

 

 

“Stay out of it, Red. This doesn’t concern you.” He pulled Xander through the kitchen, down the stairs to the tidy laundry room and opened the door to the tunnel. There Xander balked.

 

 

 

Spike stopped, flipped a switch beside the door, and rounded a glare at him. “It’s a long hallway, Xander, not a tunnel. Come on before I knock you out and carry you.”

 

 

 

Xander gave in, still very confused and followed the clean white walls of the well-lit, hallway. A small piece of his mind admired the construction of it.

 

 

 

They passed a set of stairs that must lead to the garage, then on to another set that opened to the barn. Xander opened his mouth to speak, or at least catch his breath, when Spike took him by the arms again.

 

 

 

“What are you?” Spike asked.

 

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

 

“What do you think you are? You were just telling me.”

 

 

 

“I’m a monster.” Xander said, meeting his gaze steadily.

 

 

 

“Did you ever kill anyone outside of the ring when it wasn’t out of necessity?” Spike asked.

 

 

 

“No.”

 

 

 

“Did you ever kill for the fun of it? Laugh about your sport?”

 

 

 

“No!”

 

 

 

“Do you know how to torture someone? How to keep them alive for days?”

 

 

 

 

“No!” Xander tried to pull away from Spike, but he just gripped harder, making Xander stand still or break a bone.

 

 

“Do you know how much flesh and muscle you can carve from a vampire before he finally ashes?” Spike asked, his voice growing quiet along with Xander’s stillness.

 

 

“No.” Xander answered, the direction of the questions becoming clear.

 

 

 

Spike lessened his grip. “You ever fuck the corpse of your victim?”

 

 

 

“No,” Xander said more quietly.

 

 

 

“Have you ever,” Spike’s voice cracked, “killed an entire orphanage of children and arranged their bodies in storybook pictures to make your girlfriend smile?” Xander shook his head. “Do you know just how much blood you can drink from a girl like Dawn so they still cry when you rape them?” Spike’s voice was just a whisper. He dropped his hands from Xander’s shoulders.

 

 

 

“No,” Xander said, understanding it was about Spike now.

 

 

 

Spike looked away to where the high window let in a single square of sunlight. “Then you’re not a monster, Xander. I am. Because… because once in a while, just every now again when I’m lonely or drunk… I wish I didn’t have this sodding soul and could cut a path of destruction again without morals or guilt.”

 

 

 

“Spike, you’re not a monster. You’ve helped us out so much and now you work for the Slayers.”

 

 

“You ever taste the blood of your vampire, Xander?” Spike snapped, turning back to him, his eyes glinting.

 

 

Xander blinked at this sudden turn. “No.”

 

 

 

“Do you know anything about it? Drinking a vampire’s blood?”

 

 

 

Xander rubbed his arms where deep bruises were forming, as he frowned at Spike’s intensity. “Buffy once said Dracula made her taste it, and that she… saw things.”

 

 

 

Spike scoffed. “Made her, right. Poncy Dracy making the Slayer do something. I am a monster, Pet, and you are not. I want to show you.” Spike shifted into game face and bit his wrist. He held it out to Xander. “Drink. One swallow.”

 

 

 

Xander looked from the dripping gash to Spike’s eyes. “You dare me?” Xander said weakly.

 

 

 

“Drink!” Spike snarled.

 

 

 

Uncertainly, Xander took Spike’s arm, fought down the gorge that wanted to rise in his throat at the heady scent, looked in Spike’s yellow eyes, bent and pulled one swallow from the rapidly-closing wound.

 

 

 

Sensations and emotions rushed through him like the rapid clips a the beginning of a TV show where they say “previously on.”

 

 

 

He felt what it was like to be a vampire; to be so strong, quick, clever, and aged. He saw gruesome sights that churned his stomach; deaths, pain, and suffering, all of it being rendered by Spike’s narrow hands. He saw a myriad of victims, screaming under Spike’s body as they were violated. Women, men, children. He saw glimpses of Drusilla throughout as if she were the focus of it all, though she, too sometimes suffered his dark art. The specter of Angelus blessed the mayhem.

 

 

 

Xander found himself on his knees on the dirt floor of the barn, the ruins of his breakfast shot through with blood like a TB victim’s mucus. He dry heaved when the smell hit him, and pushed himself away. Spike let go of his hair and stepped back.

 

 

 

Xander spat and wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. He squeezed his eye shut and did his best to will away the visions that were already fading like a nightmare.

 

 

 

“You all right, mate?” Spike asked quietly.

 

 

 

Xander sprang from the floor and punched Spike with all the force he could. “You God damned, son of a fucking bitch!” he yelled at Spike where he lay on the floor, blood streaming from his nose. “How the fucking hell dare you?” He screamed at Spike, belittling him in several languages and daring him to get up. Finally, he’d shouted himself hoarse so he stumbled away. He fell on his knees in the patch of sunlight and breathed in great lungfuls of air as tears ran down his face.

 

 

 

The sunbeam moved off his face and just warmed his knees before his breathing evened out.

 

 

 

“You still say you’re a monster?” Spike asked quietly from where he still lay on the floor. Xander hesitated, then shook his head. “You don’t doubt that I am?”

 

 

 

“I never doubted that, you’re a vampire,” Xander said, then coughed.

 

 

 

“Do you still want me around? I understand if you don’t.”

 

 

 

“You’re not very popular right now.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I get that. I’ll go,” Spike pulled his splayed limbs together.

 

 

 

“I didn’t say that,” Xander whispered.

 

 

 

Spike sat up, wiped the dried blood from his face, and dusted himself off best he could.

 

 

 

The sunbeam slipped off Xander’s lap and he felt a sudden chill. “Then tell me this, Spike, if you can. If I’m so good, why did Anthony leave me? Or did you show me that to prove how evil all vampires are?”

 

 

 

“Oi! No one’s as evil as William the Bloody is… was. ‘cept maybe Angelus.” Spike muttered. “And I think Anthony was a bloody idiot. Didn’t see the value of what he had, could only mourn for what he lost. Seems to me he held on to the dream of his Sire so long he’d never planned past it.”

 

 

 

Xander looked over his shoulder at Spike as he sat cross legged in the dust, his hair unraveling from its braid, and a smear of dried blood on is chin that he kept scratching at. Spike raised an eyebrow at him as if expecting to be contradicted for calling Anthony an idiot, but said nothing more. Xander turned back to the sunbeam as it crawled away from him, leaving him in the dark. “What if… what if I had told him I loved him?”

 

 

 

“You never did? Huh. I didn’t know the bloke, but you might’ve set yourself up for a deeper hurt, mate,” Spike said quietly. “Nothing stings as bad as loving someone more than they love you.”

 

 

 

Xander knew Spike spoke of Buffy. “But he treated me like he did love me, even if he didn’t say it till the end.”

 

 

 

“Funny how folks can do that, innit?” They sat quietly for a minute. “Buffy told me she loved me once.”

 

 

 

Xander turned around, leaving the sunbeam to travel on alone. Spike now sat slumped with his elbows on his knees and his hands limp in his lap between them, staring at them. “Really? When?”

 

 

 

“Just before I went to ash in the ruddy school basement. I could tell she said it cause I wanted her to.” Spike sniffled. “It was a sweet thing she did.”

 

 

 

“You think she didn’t really love you?”

 

 

 

Spike ran a hand over his head and sighed. “The problem with love is that there are so many different flavors of it and just one word.”

 

 

 

“Like; I love Star trek and chocolate.”

 

 

 

“And I love Manchester United and spicy chicken wings.”

 

 

 

“I love swimming in the ocean and sunshine.”

 

 

 

“I love hot blood and a good fight.”

 

 

 

Xander paused. “I love Anthony ,Willow, and Giles.”

 

 

 

“I love Drusilla,” Spike sighed, still looking at his hands.

 

 

 

“Like Eskimos have a thousand words of snow, we need a thousand words for love.”

 

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

“Huh.” Xander pushed his hair out of his face and smiled. “Spike?”

 

 

 

Spike looked up. “Wot?”

 

 

 

“I love you, Spike,” Xander said with a straight face.

 

 

 

Spike raised an eyebrow. “I love you, too, Xander.” He waited to see what the man would do next.

 

 

 

“You know what else I love?” Xander asked, getting to his feet.

 

 

 

“Wot?”

 

 

 

“Lunch!” Xander bounced over to Spike and held out his hand.

 

 

 

Spike took it and let Xander pull him to his feet. “Food’s you’re first love, innit?”

 

 

 

Xander brushed some of the dust off Spike’s back. “Yep. It was a good thing we were so poor, or I would’ve been fat!”

 

 

 

“And easier to catch,” Spike snickered as he opened the door to the tunnel. Xander paused, his cheer suddenly gone. “I’ll meet you inside if you want,” Spike said. “You don’t have to take this route.”

 

 

 

“No, it’s not that. I… thanks. That was the nastiest thing I’ve ever experienced, and there have been some nasty ones.”

 

 

 

“Sorry… I…”

 

 

 

“Let me finish. It was harsh, but… it worked. I… I see what you were trying to tell me. I… there was so much I could have done that I didn’t, and that makes me a man.”

 

 

 

Spike looked away. “Proved I’m a monster, too.”

 

 

 

“Spike,” Xander said, making Spike look back. “You were a monster, but I think now you’re a fine man.”

 

 

 

Spike smiled a shy smile, then pulled a fake frown. “I’m evil. Always will be.”

 

 

 

“That’s right, Big Bad,” Xander hesitated, then pulled him into a hug. “And thanks for holding my hair when I barfed.”

 

 

 

“Didn’t wanna smell you on the way back, is all,” Spike said quietly, returning the hug.

 

 

 

“Thank you for… for finding me, For buying me and not leaving me there.”

 

 

 

“Like I said, I’d been saving up.”

 

 

 

Xander gave him one more squeeze, then pushed him away. “You can’t fool me. That was the council’s money.”

 

 

 

Spike grinned. “Yeah, you should’ve heard their reaction to my expense account that week.”

 

 

 

“Does that mean I belong to the council?”

 

 

 

“Nope, I’m the one who signed the papers. Your ass is mine!” Spike laughed, patting Xander’s head. “Let’s go find lunch.”

 


Chapter 31

As they crossed back through the tunnel, Spike told Xander some of the wilder rumors about the movie star who had built the house and the tunnel originally.

 

“Midra!” Xander cried as he burst from the cellar door. “What’s for lunch?"

 

She looked over the dusty men disapprovingly and shook her head. “Dinner is left over chili and sandwiches and it will be in an hour.”

 

“Thank you, gracious lady of the kitchen. I shell return clean forthwith.” Xander gave her a bow, and one for Willow, then bounded from the room.

 

Willow turned to where Spike leaned in the doorway. “That was a fast turnaround.” She eyed Spike’s bloody, swollen face and blood-smeared hand.

 

Spike shrugged. “Fella needed a round of kick the Spike. I find it works well with Scoobies.”

 

Both women gazed steadily at him, knowing it wasn’t the full story. Spike rolled his eyes and gave in. “He kept calling himself a monster, so I showed him what a real monster is like.”

 

Willow’s eyes widened. “You fed him your blood?”

 

“Just a swallow. Got through to him better than any words I tried.”

 

Buffy had told her in detail about Dracula’s blood and she had read up on it in her studies. “And he still lets you near him after a senso-round experience of William the Bloody?”

 

Spike looked smug. “Proves my point, don’t it?”

 

Midra smiled a little a him, even as Willow frowned. “You’re the one who is going to have to deal with his nightmares,” Willow said.

 

“I think he’s got plenty of his own,” Spike said as he went back downstairs to clean up.

 

Upstairs, in his room, Xander leaned on the sink. He swigged a mouthful of mouthwash in an attempt to rid himself of the tastes of vomit and vampire blood.

 

Even after rinsing three times and brushing twice, the taste of blood lingered. Then, with a shock, he realized it was a memory; one that was not his own. “Damn. Vampires should come with warning labels,” Xander muttered. He turned away from the mirror, not wanting to see if he looked as bad as he felt, his arm bands laying on the counter.

 

He hadn’t missed their presence until seeing them. He picked one up, and abruptly remembered Jen adding to one of them. How had he forgotten that? The one for his right wrist was unchanged, but inside the left band, next to the glyph he was sure meant “home,” was what could only be a railroad spike. Xander smiled and put the left band on.

 

He put on a long-sleeved shirt to cover the bruises, and joined the others in the kitchen, hoping Midra’s chili would be spicy enough to block out the memory of the taste of hot blood.

 

Gunn and Dawn were absent, but it still made for a happy table full. The chili was indeed flavorful and the taste of blood soon faded.

 

“Hey guys,” Oz said. “Velvety Potato is trying out new drummers tonight at the Treacle Room.”

 

Xander choked on his soda. “Velvet what?”

 

“Velvety Potato. It’s a band I play with sometimes. The Treacle Room is a club.”

 

Xander laughed. “Velvety Potato. I like it. what do you play?"

 

"Covers, mostly."

"So it's the Velvety Potato skins?"

 

Xander got a round of groans for that. “Good one. You guys are welcome to come.”

 

Xander frowned. “That would be like going out in the real world, meeting new people, answering questions about the last five years, and listening to pop references I won’t get unless maybe I managed to read the book?”

 

“Yes?” Oz said.

 

“I don’t think I’m up to that, yet.”

 

“Come on,” Spike said. “It’s a great crowd.”

 

Xander looked doubtful. “I may get Spike to play a little,” Oz said.

 

“Spike plays? What, harpsichord?”

 

“No, wanker, bass guitar. And quite well, too," Spike smirked.

 

“As tempting as that is, I’ll just hang out here. I’m in the mood to veg and watch some Firefly. You go, Spike.”

 

Spike really wanted to go, but he didn’t want to leave Xander after the night he’d had. He frowned at the man as he shoveled away more chili. “You sure, mate?”

 

“Go ahead. I don’t need my hand held every minute.”

 

“Okay, then. We won’t be out too late.”

 

“Just don’t break any groupie’s hearts.”

 

“Nah. But they do have a cute roadie…” Spike smirked.

 

“Who? Christine the valkyre?” Oz asked.

 

“Yeah,” Spike sighed. “I like a woman I can climb once in a while.”

 

Oz and Spike launched into a conversation about amps, guitars, and chords that told Xander he was right to let Spike go.

 

He hung out in the living room watching television until he heard Gunn come home.

 

Xander went to his office and poked his head in. “Hey, Gunn.”

 

Gunn was sharply dressed in a neatly tailored suit. For the first time, he looked like the lawyer Xander knew him to be. He was still in “professional mode” as he sat his briefcase on the desk. He waved to a chair. “Xander! How’s everything? I have your hearing scheduled for day after tomorrow, is that okay?”

 

“Yeah, great,” Xander said, staying in the door. “Will there be a test? Any books I should crack?”

 

Gunn shook his head. “Just be there, know who you are, and let me do the talking. The council and your mother have supplied me with all the paperwork I need. We can go from there to the bank and finalize access to your accounts.”

 

“You mean get me my own piece of plastic?”

 

“Exactly.”

 

“Great. Um, Gunn? I’d like to take another look at that list. Of people.”

 

“Sure! I can load it as an encrypted file onto your laptop. So you can do it in your own time.”

 

“Can we… tonight, maybe?”

 

“I’ve got time right now.”

 

++++

 

Shortly after one, Spike and Oz returned. They had found a drummer everyone seemed to click with and then played for a couple of hours. Quietly, they made their way upstairs and parted company at the second floor landing. Spike continued upstairs and went to Xander’s room.

 

He listened at the closed door and heard Xander talking. The words were slurred, and he couldn’t make many of them out. “Xander?” he called.

 

“Spike! There you are! Come in, buddy!”

 

Spike could now tell Xander was drunk, and closed his eyes for a second, fearing a repeat of the Funyons event. He opened the door and found Xander again in the floor.

 

This time, he had all the blankets and pillows in a pile and was sitting naked in the middle of them, holding a nearly empty bottle of scotch. Spike felt a guilty twinge at the dark bruises on his upper arms. “Hey! I missed you!”

 

“Sure you did.” Quickly, he looked over the room and took in the situation. He went to the laptop that sat on the table, and looked at the glowing screen. It was a spread sheet of names, dates, pictures, and info. The last column was labeled “New information.” Many were blank, but some contained poorly typed things like: “best sword through gut,” “blow to head,” “Fucked him 1ce, e never called.” “conimed him to def,” and “Mad her a whore.”

 

“What’s all this about?” Spike demanded.

 

“Gunn.” Xander crawled out of the nest he’d made and pulled himself up to the table. “I wanted to help him out to find more people. So he gave me this,” Xander pointed, touching the screen. “I fucked up a lot of people’s lives. Took a lot, too.” He lifted the bottle to his lips, but Spike took it from him. “He gave me that, too. Gimme it back!”

 

“You’ve had more than enough, Xander.”

 

“No!” he said, reaching for the bottle.

 

“Yes, you have.” Spike put the bottle high on top of the entertainment center and came back to where Xander was on his knees, one arm up in the table with his chin on it, and looking at a picture of a smiling woman. “They never smiled when I saw them, Spike. She was a pleaser. Because I said so.”

 

Spike snapped the laptop shut. “Enough of that. You’ve done plenty of homework. Time for bed. Go clean up a little if you can, and I’ll put the bed together.”

 

“But I like it in the floor. I don’t deserve a bed. I’m a pet. I had a nice nest in Anthony’s room for the longest time.”

 

“No, mate. You do deserve a bed, but I don’t feel like playing maid again tonight.” He kept his anger at Gunn tamped down for now. Xander needed him. He lay down fully dressed, prepared to leave as soon as Xander was asleep.

 

Xander didn’t even notice the vampire hadn’t taken off his boots. He curled against Spike where he lay on his back with his hands behind his head.

 

“Hey, Spike,” Xander said quietly.

 

“Hey.”

 

Xander started running his hand over Spike’s chest. “I’ve always thought you were nicely compact and well muscled.”

 

“Thank you, Xander.” He’d let Xander touch him as long as it distracted him from the laptop and the bottle.

 

Xander closed his eye and nestled in against Spike’s side, with his forehead in the crook of Spike’s neck. Spike put his arm around the man and held him. Just when he thought Xander was going to sleep, he started to pet Spike again. “Nice,” Xander said sleepily.

 

“Sure. Go to sleep.”

 

Xander slipped his hand under Spike’s shirt and continued his sleepy circling. “Your skin is so smooth.”

 

Spike closed his eyes, wishing Xander would stop, but expecting him to fall asleep at any second. “Died without ever having done a day’s hard work in my life. Not even sports, unless you count croquet.”

 

“Croquet don’t count,” Xander murmured, circling wider. He stopped to toy with the faint line of hair that ran down from Spike’s belly button.

 

“Um, Xander,” Spike said, growing hard under the unintentionaly sensual touch.

 

Before Spike could stop him, Xander’s hand circled again and dipped under the waistband of his jeans where they gapped as he lay on his back. Xander’s finger brushed the damp tip of Spike’s cock and paused. “What’s this?”

 

“You know what it is, Xander. You’ve got one yourself. Leave off the nice vampire, roll over, and get some sleep.”

 

“I do have one of those.” Xander thrust his erection against Spike’s hip and pushed his hand into Spike’s jeans. There wasn’t much room, but he managed to wrap his fingers around what he found.

 

Spike sucked in a breath and pulled Xander’s hand out. “Stop it, Xander.” He fought down the urge to take what he wanted. Xander was drunk and trusted him.

 

“Want it,” Xander said, and tried to breach Spike’s jeans again.

 

Spike shoved him away and leapt from the nest. “No, Xander.”

 

Instead of the hurt Spike expected, his face clouded and he growled at Spike. “Get back here.”

 

“No, Xander!” Spike said firmly.

 

Xander rose to his knees. “No one refuses me! I can have whoever I want!”

 

“You’re not in sodding Africa, Xander! You’re in California. That doesn’t fly, here.”

 

Spike wasn’t expecting it, so when Xander lunged at him, grabbing him around the knees and bringing him down, he fell like a chopped tree. His head banged against the floor, stunning him.

 

“I get what I want! I’m the chooser! I want you!” Xander said, straddling Spike and pulling at his belt.

 

Spike’s eyes were flecked gold as he grabbed Xander’s muscular arms and threw him backwards. He landed with a thump on his tailbone. In a heartbeat, Spike stood over Xander. “I suggest you not get up, Xander,” Spike said coldly. “I’m not one of your pleasers for hire.”

 

Xander snarled, snatched at Spike’s legs, and Spike slapped him. “No! You could never please anyone, Spike! No wonder Angel left you!”

 

Spike suddenly went still, more stung by the words than the attack. “I’ll be back when you’re sober.”

 

As he snatched up the bottle and slammed the door behind himself, he heard Xander start sobbing. He didn’t pause, but stormed on through the house.

 

Drawn out by the shouting, Willow, Oz, and Dawn stood in their doorways. Dawn drew back into her room at the sight of an angry Spike barreling down the stairs.

 

“Spike? What happened?” Willow asked.

 

“Sodding lawyer gave the boy a nice drink to accompany his misery,” Spike gritted without stopping as he gestured with the bottle, making a bit slosh out of the top.

 

“Oh! Don’t hurt him! He didn’t know!” Willow called after him.

 

“Go see to Xander!” Spike called back.

 

Spike crossed through the house to the ground floor rooms Gunn shared with Midra. He raised his fist to pound on the door, but it opened before he could strike. Gunn stood in the doorway, tying his robe belt. “What’s the hubbub? We under attack?”

 

Spike bunched up Gunn’s robe with one hand, pulled the taller man’s face down, and shook the bottle at him. “You gave this to Xander! Left it with him!”

 

“Yeah, man. Going through that, I thought he’d need some courage.”

 

Spike’s predator nature acknowledged Midra taking a protective stance behind her man, but ignored her. “Xander’s father was a very drastic, very mean drunk.” Spike spoke low and clearly, his eyes flashing gold. “Didn’t your woman tell you that the boy got drunk last night? Then you leave him alone with this to face what he did back there?” Spike shoved Gunn away so he backpedaled and landed hard against the bed. Spike glared at him as his bad leg gave out and he fell to the floor. “Xander has more courage than almost any man I’ve met. He doesn’t need this shit.” Spike hefted the bottle and at the last second fought down the urge to slam it into the wall. Instead he took a huge swallow and turned away.

 

Spike encountered Oz in the hallway, the small man had the stillness of the wolf about him, and Spike had no doubts he would defend anyone in the house, even against him. “You okay, man?” he asked in his calm manner.

 

Spike took another swallow, enjoying the burn of the good liquor, but needing more. He needed to fight, feed, fuck, and maybe kill. And not necessarily in that order. “Fine. And so is lawyer boy. Look after Xander. I’m going out.” Oz stepped aside and Spike continued on, grabbing his coat off the rack, and slamming the front door behind him.

 


Chapter 32

Spike automatically checked his pockets as he strode angrily across the lawn. Nothing spoiled a dramatic exit like having to go back for your keys. Once in the garage, he leaned heavily back against the door. The bottle he’d forgotten he carried thunked against the wood. With his eyes closed, Spike took a deep, steadying breath, let it out, then raised the bottle to his lips. He took a long swallow of the smooth alcohol and turned over the situation in his mind. He knew Xander would probably beat himself up over his actions in the morning. That is, if he remembered them.

 

 

 

Spike took a second swallow. More than a hundred years of taking what he wanted didn’t make the situation easier. Some habits are hard to break. Upstairs, he’d been so close to letting Xander take him, or taking Xander, whatever came about. It had been so long since anyone had cared about him; held him or desired him. He now knew the long years with Drusilla had been special. They had always been there for each other. She would greet him with that naughty grin and a grope after he’d been out fighting. They would slaughter a family, then fuck for hours in the congealing blood.

 

 

 

He drained the bottle, and again wanted to slam it into a wall to hear it break. He stared at the fancy glass and cursed. He didn’t live in a crypt where he could leave broken glass around when he wanted. People lived here, people he cared about, and sometimes a tongue lashing from the red-head hellion Willow could become just wasn’t worth it. He settled for crossing to the recycling bens and slamming it into the one neatly marked “clear glass.” A weaker pickle jar exploded with a satisfying crash.

 

 

 

He opened the tiny boot of his sports car and double checked the presence of what he called his “grab and run” kit. He climbed in, called up his heavy punk mix CD on the changer, cranked the volume and peeled out of the driveway.

 

 

 

Spike pushed aside what caused his dilemma and focused on the real problem: fight or fuck first.

 

 

 

After an hour of playing hogs of the road in his horrorshow sports car, Spike turned down the volume and called one of his favorite hotels on his cell phone. It was close enough to the bad part of town that he didn’t have to drive far, was nice enough to not put someone off from visiting him, and yet still had twenty four hour room service and flat rate cable porn access. Best of all, it had rooms that faced the indoor balconies and had no outside windows. His reservation made, Spike cranked the volume again and headed to the hotel.

 

 

 

Half an hour later, he checked in and exchanged a few words with the clerk who recognized him. He had overheard two maids talking once and knew his reputation as an eccentric, yet well behaved good tipper. Fine with him.

 

 

 

Spike quickly went to the room and scattered his belongings as if he’d been there for more than a few minutes. It was late in the night, and he had things he wanted to do.

 

 

 

Dawn had accused Spike of being stuck in the 1980’s as far as music was concerned, so she made him CD’s of what she was listening to. He put in the latest and made his way to one street where the newbies always seemed to wind up. It took another half an hour, but he found what he wanted. A young man with a letterman’s jacket came out of an alley, wiping his mouth and spiting. He was tall and olive skinned, his hair just brushed his collar and was in need of combing. Spike watched as he checked his pocket then resignedly took up a post by a street lamp, pulling the jacket tighter.

 

 

 

Spike pulled up beside him and rolled the passenger window down. “Oi, mate.” He’d found that his accent was very popular.

 

 

 

The boy put on his best casual air and leaned over to look in. “Hello,” he said, his accent was mid western.

 

 

 

“I’m in town on business and I hate to eat alone. Would you like to join me for dinner?” He stank of other men’s seed and sweat, so Spike new he wasn’t a police officer. Still, it was best to play the game. As recently as ten years ago, he would have been in that alley and taken the boy and his customer. Spike bit down the urge to do it anyway and smiled.

 

 

 

“I donno, man,” he looked up and down the almost empty street, his dark eyes cautious. “We talking waffles or steak?”

 

 

 

“I was thinking a nice thick cut of steak, actually. With any sides you’d want. Fries, baked potato, salad, beer.” Spike heard the boy’s stomach growl and knew he had him. His old ways still worked. Drusilla once told him he could charm the very stars from the skies, but please don’t cause they’d burn so.

 

 

 

“There’s nowhere around here open this late serves that.” He started to straighten.

 

 

 

“My hotel, the Piedmont does. They have damn fine chocolate cake, too. Please, I hate to eat alone.”

 

 

 

The boy leaned over again and stepped closer. “My roommate will worry if I don’t get back soon.”

 

 

 

Spike picked up his cell phone and held it out. “Call him. Tell him you’re having dinner with Mr. William Blooden at the Piedmont. Come on.” The boy bit his lip. “You can shower while you’re there, then I can drive you home. Please.” Spike put on his best blue-eyed sweet routine.

 

 

 

The boy caved. “Okay. Let me call Freddy.” Spike handed over the phone and watched him step away. He listened in easily, tapping his fingers along to a song he wasn’t really hearing, as his soon-to-be-company dialed time and told the mechanical female voice where he’d be. A pretty runaway. Time was, Spike would charm him off to a hole somewhere and play for days. Damn this soul, that would sooth his aches so well.

 

 

 

The boy climbed in, handed Spike his cell phone back, and buckled up. They made small talk about the car and the music as Spike drove carefully back to the hotel.

 

 

 

Spike made a point of stopping at the desk to ask after messages to put the boy more at ease, having been seen in his company. Once in the room, Spike tossed aside his coat and handed the boy the room service menu. “Order whatever you want, my treat. I recommend the fillet steak and seasoned potatoes. Oh, and of course the cake.”

 

 

 

Once they’d ordered, Spike persuaded the boy to shower and dress in one of the provided robes. As the boy showered, Spike stepped into the room. He heard the boy’s heart rate accelerate as he tried to figure at this stranger’s game. “I have to have some laundry done, one of my bags didn’t make it. I may as well get yours, too,” he called over the sound of the water. “It should be done right as we finish up dinner.” He didn’t wait for an answer, but scooped up the stinking clothes and closed the door behind him. He waited for three minutes to see if the boy would storm out wet and angry, but, as Spike predicted, he did not. The newbies never did. Funny how they would strip in a heartbeat for some dosh, but wouldn’t run out in a hotel hallway naked to save their lives.

 

 

 

Spike emptied out the jeans pockets, carefully piling the contents on the table. A couple of wrinkled twenties joined a pair of condoms, a small pocket knife, a key, and a thin wallet. Quickly, he thumbed through the wallet. His name was Jerry Scott Whitner from Ohio and his eighteenth birthday was three months away. Spike frowned at the picture of a young lady shyly cradling her rounded belly. He doubted that was his sister.

 

 

 

He stuffed the clothes into the bag provided for laundry service along with is own, and placed a call to room service. He pulled on a robe and settled on the bed to watch television. After half an hour, the boy came out with a white robe tightly belted around him, and his long hair dripping.

 

 

 

“Feel better?” Spike asked, not looking at him as the boy inventoried his property in a panic.

 

 

 

“Um, yeah.”

 

 

 

“They’ll pick up the clothes when they bring up the food. It shouldn’t be long now.”

 

 

 

He watched the boy shoot a look at the laundry bag where it rested by the door. It was clear he still wasn’t sure at all about this seeming kind, handsome stranger. Spike pointed at the other bed. “Get comfy. There’s a good Clint Eastwood movie on. Unless you’d rather watch one of the ‘Star Wars’ movies? Say, what’s your name, anyway?”

 

 

 

“Je… Scott.”

 

 

 

“Well, Scott. I must say this is a lot better than staring at a TV by myself. I always have jet lag when I come over from London.”

 

 

 

Dinner shortly arrived, and Spike managed to relax the boy over light conversation and good food. True to his word, the clothes arrived cleaned and the jacket dry cleaned. It was an hour until dawn.

 

 

 

Spike sorted out his clothes from Scott’s and laid them on the table. “Well, that’s it.” Spike yawned hugely. “I guess I can get dressed and take you home.” He yawned again.

 

 

 

Scott yawned, too. “Yeah, I guess that would be best.”

 

 

 

“Unless, well...” Spike hesitated.

 

 

 

“What?”

 

 

 

“There are two beds. We could catch some shut eye, you could get some breakfast or lunch, then I could take you home. I mean, it’s all warm here and I’m sleepy now.” Spike knew from the smell of the boy he’d been in a flop house at best.

 

 

 

“Um… Okay.”

 

 

 

“Do you want to call your roommate again?”

 

 

 

“Huh? Oh, no. He’ll be… off to work by now.”

 

 

 

“Good, it’s settled.” Spike tossed back the covers on his bed and dropped his robe. He stretched, letting Scott see his lean, healthy body, then climbed into bed. “Turn the light off, would you, Pet?”

 

 

 

He allowed Scott to turn off the light before crossing the dark room and dropping his own robe. He sighed at the sight of the boy’s cleanly muscled body and glimpse of his fine cock as he climbed into bed. He wasn’t Xander. He wasn’t even close to Xander’s hard-won muscles, but he would do. Spike waited half on hour, tossing and turning, before calling out to the boy he could hear was almost asleep. “Hey, Scott?”

 

 

 

“Mmmm? Huh?”

 

 

 

“I know this is forward of me, but… can I sleep with you? I miss my partner.”

 

 

 

Scott hesitated before answering. “Um… just sleep?”

 

 

 

Spike sighed loudly. “I… I know what you are. I… I’ve never hired anyone before and wasn’t planning on… I’ll give you… fifty dollars to let me sleep with you.”

 

 

 

He heard the boy’s soft intake of breath. “Uh, I guess that would be okay.”

 

 

 

“Thank you,” Spike said and quickly moved from his bed to the other. “I have some circulation problems, so I always feel a little cool. I thought I’d warn you cause it freaks some people out.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Okay.”

 

 

 

Spike lay some distance from the tense boy and put his hands behind his head. “Say, Scott,” he said softly after a while.

 

 

 

“Yeah?”

 

 

 

“What… How much… Never mind.” Spike rolled away and curled up with his back to the boy.

 

 

 

“Did you change your mind?” Scott asked after a minute. “I don’t mind. Cause… you’re the nicest person I’ve met in this town.”

 

 

 

“You find this place hostile, too? If I didn’t have to come here for business, I never would.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry I’m here, too,” Scott said too softly for human ears.

 

 

 

“How much? God! I can’t believe I’m asking,” Spike almost sobbed. “I… I had a fight with my partner before I left. Now he won’t answer his phone. Last time this happened, he… he hired someone.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry,” Scott said and put his hand on Spike’s shoulder. He named off some rates that Spike knew to be high for a beginner.

 

 

 

Spike rolled over and softly touched the boy’s face. “I tell you what; I have five hundred dollars. You tell me when I’ve used it up, okay?”

 

 

 

“Five…” Scott gasped.

 

 

 

“I can show you. It’s cash.”

 

 

 

“Uh…”

 

 

 

“Yes, let me.” Spike jumped out of bed and flipped on the light. He dug out his travel wallet from the bag on the floor and fanned out ten fifties. “There. It’s real.” Spike barked a laugh, then threw it in the air, letting the bills flutter down around Scott where he knelt on the bed. “It’s his money anyway! I’m working for him!”

 

 

 

Scott gaped at the crazy, beautiful, naked man before him. He didn’t know for a minute if he should grab his clothes and run or stay and earn the money. Spike sat heavily on the bed beside him and buried his face in his hands. Scott hesitated, then moved closer and put an arm around the shaking shoulders. “It’s cool, man. Think of it this way, if you don’t tell him, he’ll never know.”

 

 

 

Spike sniffled and pulled himself together. “Yeah. Yeah! You’re right.” Spike turned to him. “I deserve a pretty young man like you in my bed. It’s not like I’m married.”

 

 

 

“I thought that was legal in England.”

 

 

 

“Not so much anywhere, really.” Spike gave his most charming, shy grin and picked up a bill. “Help me clean this up, then we’ll get all comfortable again.”

 

 

 

Together, they accounted for the money and stacked it on the table. Spike turned on the bathroom light and left the door open enough to act as a night light before climbing in beside Scott. He lay on his back and held out an arm. “Come ‘ere, Luv.” Scott lay with is head on Spike’s shoulder and allowed the smaller man to pull him close.

 

 

 

“Wow, you are cool.”

 

 

 

“The coolest,” Spike murmured, gently kissing the top of Scott’s head. “Rub your hand over my chest, then let it wander, and play with what you find.”

 

 

 

“Yes, sir,” Scott answered, moving his hand.

 

 

 

“Call me Spike.”

 


Chapter 33

“Call me Spike.”

 

 

 

“What ever you want, Spike.” Scott pinched and rolled his client’s nipples before running his hand on down and admiring the rippled abs.

 

 

 

Spike closed his eyes and let himself get lost in the sensations of a human man touching him. The boy’s technique was still unpracticed, but that just added to it.

 

 

 

“Mmmm, Spike,” the boy said, his lips moving against Spike’s neck as he grasped Spike’s erection.

 

 

 

“Yeah! Like that.” Spike thrust into the boy’s grip. “My neck. Kiss my neck.”

 

 

 

Scott kissed and nipped at Spike’s neck as he worked his foreskin. “So hard, Spike.”

 

 

 

“Do you want me, whelp?”

 

 

 

“Yes, Spike.” He truthfully did. This man was a little strange, but he’d never seen a man’s body that was so beautiful. He laughed in his mind. Two months ago, he’d been a virgin to the world of gay sex, now he found himself with a woody for another man. True, the man’s build was small enough he made Scott feel oafish. It was funny that until he actually touched him that Scott thought Spike was much taller.

 

 

 

“Tell me what you want,” Spike gasped.

 

 

 

“I want to take you,” the boy said, then hesitated. Most clients wanted to take him. He thrust his hard cock into Spike’s hip for good measure.

 

 

 

“Yeah? How? Tell me how.”

 

 

 

“I want to bend you over and slide my thick cock into your tight hole, Spike.” Dirty talk often got him tips.

 

 

 

Spike sucked in a deep breath, his eyes still tightly shut. “Harder! Bite… bite my neck!”

 

 

 

Kinky, but it wasn’t the first time that had been requested. At least his client was clean and sober. He bit into Spike’s neck just below his ear, stopping short of drawing blood, and was rewarded when his client arched his back and spent in his fist.

 

 

 

That was thirty dollars earned. Only thirty out f a possible five hundred. Disappointed, Scott kissed Spike’s neck and started to roll away, only to be stopped by the surprisingly strong arm around him. “Where you going, Whelp?”

 

 

 

“Well, you’re done…”

 

 

 

“You’re not.” Spike reached over and grabbed the boy’s flagging erection. Scott gasped.

 

 

 

“Um, no. But I don’t matter.”

 

 

“You said you wanted to take me. Were you lying?” Spike’s voice had a new edge of steel to it, and perhaps some hurt.

 

 

“No! No! You’re sexy as hell. For a guy.” Scott clapped his hand over his moth, worried that he’d offended his client.

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “Then get the lube from the bathroom and get on with it.”

 

 

 

“But you…”

 

 

 

“Came, yeah. I have remarkable stamina. Fetch!”

 

 

 

Scott stumbled from the bed and pawed in the overnight kit sitting on the sink until he found a tube of KY. When he returned to the bedroom, Spike was laying on the bed face down with a couple of pillows under his hips. His face was turned away, and he was fingering his asshole. The exotic long braid lay across his bare back.

 

 

 

Scott paused and took a condom from the pile of his belongings. At the sound of the package opening, Spike called out, “no. I’ll pay more for bareback.”

 

 

 

Scott hesitated. He knew the risks, and so far he’d managed to not do it more than once. “I… I don’t know.”

 

 

 

“My partner is a germaphobe,” Spike gave the practiced lie easily. “He makes us get a test every year. We tested clean just two months ago.”

 

 

 

“But… I may not be clean.”

 

 

 

“I don’t care. A hundred dollars over and above the five. Please. I want to feel you pump me full. My partner never will.”

 

 

 

“Okay. Sure.” Truth be told, Scott wanted that lean ass straight up. He dropped the condom back on the table and climbed in bed behind Spike. He lay on his face, holding his buttocks spread with both hands. Scott wondered how he breathed like that. The pale skin of the back beneath him was faintly crossed with old scars. Scott ran his hand over the firm, upturned buttocks before him as he fisted his cock to hardness.

 

 

 

He picked up the lube and put some on his cock and fingers. Gently, he worked in a finger. After he had two fingers in, Spike panted, “That’s enough. Make me take it. Be rough. I… I shouldn’t want this like I do.”

 

 

 

The man’s hole was tight, but he had learned to always do what the client said. Scott lined his hard, thick cock up with Spike’s hole and thrust. He hadn’t expected Spike to raise up to meet him, and he found himself buried to the hilt. Both men gasped at the sudden sensations.

 

 

 

“Lay… lay on top of me,” Spike gasped. He shifted his hands to pull at Scott’s hips.

 

 

 

“I’ll crush you.” Scott looked down at Spike’s pale body.

 

 

 

“It doesn’t matter!” Spike snarled, then took a deep breath. “Please. I want to feel you all around me and in me. Your warmth.”

 

 

 

Hesitantly, Scott lowered himself. His football player’s body completely covered the smaller man. The rush of excitement he felt was unexpected. His girlfriend always wanted to be on top because he was so big and she never let him fuck her ass. He thrust in and was rewarded with a groan.

 

 

 

“That good for you, Spike? It’s great for me,” Scott murmured. He lowered his head to kiss Spike’s cheek, but the man turned away, his eyes still tightly closed.

 

 

 

“Fuck me, use me like you will, Whelp. Don’t get mushy.”

 

 

 

Scott shifted and thrust even harder into Spike’s tight ass. He closed his eyes and enjoyed the feel of the small body pinned under his and the clenching tunnel around his cock. His client’s hair smelled like fine liquor, smoke, and some kind of musk or spice. He rocked there as along as he could before needing more. He rose to his knees, pulling Spike up with him. “I’m gonna fuck you hard, okay?”

 

 

 

“God! Yes! Take me! Fuck me!” Spike dropped his hands and reached for his own cock.

 

 

 

He grabbed Spike’s hips, enjoying how he could feel the points of his hip bones even with lean muscles of his legs against his own. The room was filled with the sounds of slapping flesh and grunting breaths. “Harder!” Spike ordered.

 

 

 

Scott clenched Spike’s hips with a force he knew would bruise the pale flesh and slammed the smaller man to him. It was not long before his movements grew erratic and he came. He started to pull away, but Spike reached back and grabbed his hip again. “Lay… lay on me again. Don’t pull out.”

 

 

 

His cock was softening, but Scott managed to lower Spike back down and he covered him one more. “How’s that?”

 

 

 

“Good. Relax, you won’t crush me.”

 

 

 

Scott settled over the slight, yet muscular body and had a sudden intuitive flash that he would never have a lover like this again. He sighed and gave into the urge to kiss the back of the head that was presented to him.

 

 

 

An unknown time later, he woke up. The memory of the fantastic orgasm came back to him and his partly erect cock throbbed. He blinked more awake. He still filled and covered his client who was laying still beneath him. Too still. Tentatively, Scott touched the hand that lay beside Spike’s face. It was cool and limp. “Fuck!” Scott cried and scrambled off the cool body and away from the bed. He’d crushed him. He could swear the man wasn’t breathing.

 

 

 

To his surprise, Spike rolled over. “What’s all the noise?” he demanded. “Why did you leave?”

 

 

 

“You… you weren’t breathing! You were so still!”

 

 

 

Spike scowled. “Sleep apnea. Should’ve told you.” Spike eyed the frightened man. His heart was pounding and fear poured off him. Spike’s stomach rumbled. “Go shower, I’ve got a business call to make.”

 

 

 

“But…”

 

 

 

Spike rolled over and out of bed with one smooth movement. Scott couldn’t help but think of some big cat, for there was a grace in even these simple movements that spoke of predator. “Go. Shower. Now.” The sweetness of earlier was replaced with something more steel. It was a trick of the light, but he thought he saw glints of gold in the blue eyes. He’d seen blue eyes turn green before, but never gold. For the first time, Scott feared his client.

 

 

 

“Okay. I... yeah, I need a shower.” Scott grabbed up his clothes and scrambled for the bathroom. He locked the door this time.

 

 

 

Spike sighed, rubbed his face, and fished his cell phone out of his coat pocket. From memory, he dialed a number.

 

 

 

“Butch’s Butchery,” answered a familiar, gruff voice.

 

 

 

“Hey, Butch, it’s Spike.”

 

 

 

“Spike! Long time no call. What’s up?”

 

 

 

“I need a discrete delivery. Three pints of whatever’s fresh.”

 

 

 

“I got some antelope in this morning.”

 

 

 

“No. Nothing African.”

 

 

 

“Buffalo? Nothing more American.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. Three pints.” Spike gave the directions and sat down on the edge of the soiled bed. He slumped and ran a hand over his hair. He was in need of a shower himself. The sex with Scott had been amazing, but now he had to dispose of the body, so to speak. Back in the day, that meant a sewer drain or a dumpster, now it would mean chit chat and a plane ticket to somewhere. Sometimes Spike hated the soul.

 

 

 

He called room service and ordered a tray full of food that young men liked. Fifteen minutes passed and he was about to go drag “Scott” out of the shower when the water finally shut off. He listened to the boy fumble around and get dressed. Hesitantly, Scott opened the door.

 

 

 

Spike still sat sticky and naked on the edge of the bed. “I’m sorry I snapped. I have low blood sugar.” The sweetness was back.

 

 

 

“Um, maybe you should order some food.” Scott wondered how the man could not be cold.

 

 

 

“Just did. I ordered a protein drink from a heath store for me and burger and fries for you, sound good?” He saw Scott look at the money on the table. “If you want to go, take it all and go. You’ve earned it.”

 

 

 

“What?” Spike saw Scott add up the actions of the night before. Even with the barebacking, he hadn’t come close.

 

 

 

Spike sighed and looked away. Time for more acting. “It was... amazing.” That part was no lie. He’d thought he could deny his need for sexual contact and still spend time with naked Xander. It wasn’t a mistake he’d make again. “And I have nothing to do and no where to go until dark. That’s five hours. Would… I would like it if you stayed. We don’t have to do anything else, unless you want to. Just… keep me company.”

 

 

 

“Well...”

 

 

 

“Please. You can call your roommate or whoever you need to. I’ll buy you dinner before taking you where you need to go.”

 

 

 

Scott looked into the crystal blue eyes and wondered how he could have imagined the danger. “Sure. Sounds fun.”

 

 

 

Spike put on his robe when a knock sounded at the door. As he’d hoped, it was the delivery boy from Butch’s. He paid with a generous tip and took the plain paper bag. He sat one of the Styrofoam containers in the mini fridge and carefully handled the other two. “I’m going to drink these in the shower. I’m feeling… sticky for some reason. Sign for the food when it comes. I won’t be long, okay?” Scott nodded and Spike knew he’d stay. He picked up his smaller bag and carried it into the bathroom with him.

 

 

 

He turned on the shower and immediately went game face. He almost spilled the rich blood as he guzzled it down. It was cold, but he dare not heat it in the little microwave. He poured the second container in a thermos from his bag. Then he stepped into the shower. Swiftly, he washed himself and cleaned out any traces of blood from the containers before throwing them away.

 

 

 

When he returned to the bedroom, Scott was busily stuffing a massive hamburger into his mouth. It reminded him so much of young Xander, his still heart gave a twinge.

 

 

 

“Better now?” Scott asked after washing down his mouthful with a drink of Coke.

 

 

 

“Yeah, thanks.” Spike sat on the end of the clean bed, flipped on the TV, and surfed around until he found the sci-fi channel. One of his favorite shows was playing. Absently, he combed his hair and worked it onto a neat braid as Scott finished his meal.

 

 

 

“I never liked science fiction,” Scott said, sitting beside him, and startling him out of his reverie.

 

 

 

“Huh? Oh. I didn’t for the longest time. Than a friend turned me on to it.”

 

 

 

“Your partner?”

 

 

 

“Him? No. He’s got no imagination.”

 

 

 

“I’m sorry to hear that.”

 

 

 

Spike got the boy talking and learned about his past and how he’d come to be in the big city on the west coast. His girlfriend had gotten pregnant and was going to put the baby up for adoption. When her time came, she stayed home and delivered it by herself instead of going to the hospital as arranged. It was born dead, and she threw it in a dumpster before calling him.

 

 

 

“I went to that dumpster and I looked in. She… she hadn’t even put the little thing in a blanket. It was dead, and blue…” Scott sobbed. “I couldn’t face the police. They’d blame me, so I ran.”

 

 

 

Spike let the boy cry on his shoulder, soothing him. He talked the boy down, and convinced him to talk a lawyer. He handed Scott a card. “This is the best damn lawyer on the planet. Tell him your story.”

 

 

 

“I… I can’t afford that.”

 

 

 

“I can,” Spike said and dialed the phone.

 

 

 

“Charles Gunn,” came the professional answer.

 

 

 

“Charlie, it’s Spike.”

 

 

 

“Oh. Hey.”

 

 

 

“Look, I’ve got a young man here who thinks he’s in trouble, and needs some help getting it sorted out, will you talk to him on my tab?”

 

 

 

“Spike, you know I’ll help your strays any time. And Spike… I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

Spike’s voice softened. “I know. Here, talk to Scott.”

 

 

 

Spike walked to the other side of the room and busied himself rearranging his clutter. He picked up his cell phone and stared at it. He should call Xander. After all, he was AWOL. He half listened as Scott re-told his story, then listened to Gunn’s positive comments. After half an hour, Scott hung up the phone.

 

 

 

“Was I right?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. He… he’ll hook me up with a good public defender in Dayton. Thank you, Spike.” The boy sat a litter straighter than he had.

 

 

 

Spike shrugged and sat down beside him. “So you ready to go home?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, I… I guess last night should just about cover it. If you could just drive me to the airport? I left some crap at the mission, but it’s nothing I want.”

 

 

 

“Where do you need to go?”

 

 

 

“Dayton, Ohio.”

 

 

 

Spike picked up the phone and connected to the airport through information. Scott listened as Spike made a reservation in his real name and rattled off a credit card number. He hung up the phone and smiled at Scott. “You have an 11 o’clock flight non-stop to Dayton. Do you need to call someone to pick you up?”

 

 

 

“But…”

 

 

 

“But what?”

 

 

 

“You used your card. How much do I…”

 

 

 

“Shut up, fool. It’s on me. You gave me something I needed this morning, so let me return the favor. All I ask is you follow through on everything the lawyers tell you, okay?”

 

 

 

Scott ducked his head, suddenly shy. “Yeah. This… this is more than anyone’s done for me. Ever.”

 

 

 

“Me with the big, shiny soul. I can’t help it.” Spike handed him the phone. “Call home. There’s someone I need to call, too.”

 

 

 

Spike picked up his cell phone, went to the bathroom, and shut the door.

 

 

 

“Hello, Chez Rosenberg,” Willow answered.

 

 

 

“Hey, Red.”

 

 

 

“Spike! Where did you run off to?”

 

 

 

“Had to bolt, pet. Is Xander there?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. Yeah, hold on.”

 

 

 

Spike heard her walk through the house, climb the stairs, then knock on a door. Even with her thumb over the mouthpiece, he could still hear. “Xander? Spike’s on the phone… I don’t know where he is… Okay…”

 

 

 

Spike stopped breathing and sat very still. Finally, he heard a door open, a soft “thanks” from Xander, and the door closing again.

 

 

 

“Hey, Spike. Where’d you go?”

 

 

 

“Out for a run,” Spike said softly.

 

 

 

“Look, I don’t completely remember what I did or said, but I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“It’s okay. I… My demon nearly did something we’d both regret. I had to go.”

 

 

 

“So my demon did get a bit fresh,” Xander sighed.

 

 

 

“More than a bit, but I don’t mind. I find it flattering, actually.”

 

 

 

“Sorry,” he could hear the misery in Xander’s voice.

 

 

 

“Hey, don’t get like that. There’s nothing bad between us, okay?”

 

 

 

“Yeah… so, when you coming back?”

 

 

 

“I’ve got some loose ends to tie up and a fight to pick tonight. If I don’t get too thrashed, I’ll come home tomorrow evening.”

 

 

 

“Okay, be careful, Spike.”

 

 

 

“You too, and stay out of the bottle!”

 

 

 

Xander laughed. “Don’t worry about that. The ghost of my father will not get another chance to channel through me again. Consider me exorcised.”

 

 

 

“Speaking of exercise, we need to spar again.”

 

 

 

“Okay, it’s a date. Thanks for calling, Spike. I was worried.”

 

 

 

Spike scoffed. “I was a bloody ass for making you think it was your fault.”

 

 

 

“Well, do that again, mister, and you’re fired!”

 

 

 

“Fair enough. Ta, Xander.”

 

 

 

“Bye, Spike.”

 

 

 

When Spike came out of the bathroom, Scott was curled on the bed. Spike sat down beside him. “How did it go?”

 

 

 

“Well, after my mother cussed me out for scaring her so bad, she cried and told me about Melody. She’s been arrested and there’s a warrant out for me.”

 

 

 

“Did you give her the contact information from Gunn?” Scott nodded.

 

 

 

“She’s meeting me at the airport. I didn’t know what to tell her about how I could afford a ticket.”

 

 

 

“Tell her you got a job stripping.”

 

 

 

Scott laughed. “Yeah, right.”

 

 

 

Spike ran his hand over Scott’s broad shoulders. “Could happen. You’re a pretty man.”

 

 

 

“I… I think you must be an angel I was meant to meet.”

 

 

 

Spike barked a laugh. “I am so far from Angel, you’d never believe it. It’s still an hour an a half till dark…”

 

 

 

Scott rolled over and looked up at Spike. “You want me to earn my ticket?”

 

 

 

“No, I want to give you a present.” Spike turned on the radio to a quiet station, made the lights low, and dropped his robe.

 

 

 

Scott swallowed and felt himself grow hard as Spike slinked toward him. Spike gently pulled the boy up and kissed him firmly. His long fingers made quick work of Scott’s clothes as he continued kissing and licking Scott’s body as it was revealed. He lay the boy on the bed and caressed and kissed him until the boy was writhing, grasping the sheets.

 

 

 

Spike looked down at him. “I’ll be your toy. Tell me what you want, boy. My hands? My mouth, my ass, my cock?”

 

 

 

For the next hour, Spike pleasured the young man, worshiping his body and arousing him as he wanted to do for Xander.

 

 

 

Afterwards, the two cleaned up and Spike drove him silently to the airport. Scott hesitated before opening the door. “I… I have to thank you for all you’ve done. And that last hour…”

 

 

 

“Shush. It was all a selfish outlet on my part,” Spike looked straight ahead at the signs directing passengers to terminals without seeing them.

 

 

 

Scott put a hand on his leg. “If I can be forward… I don’t think your partner deserves you. He sounds hateful.”

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “Thanks for caring, mate. You may take some of that into consideration yourself.”

 

 

 

“Melody’s all right. But, I think I’ve learned a lot this trip, and… I don’t think I’ll ever have a lover like you again.”

 

 

 

Spike sighed. “Then become one yourself. Pay attention to your partners and give them what they need, yeah?”

 

 

 

“I’ll try.”

 

 

 

“It’s been fun, mate. Best of luck.”

 

 

 

“Thanks.” Scott opened the door, then hesitated. “Tell me one thing?” Spike looked over at him. “What’s a whelp?”

 

 

 

“It means puppy. Go on, don’t miss your flight.”

 


Chapter 34

Xander lay dozing. He was tired and wanted to sleep, but he could not stop listening for Spike and replaying his stupidity of the night before. He thought it would be no big deal to just go through the list and mark off people’s fates. After all, his conversations with Spike had stirred up so many bad feelings, he didn’t think he could feel worse.

 

 

 

But he did feel worse, and rapidly. There were so many people he’d forgotten about. Even the ones he didn’t recognize gave him a pang because he couldn’t help. He had set the bottle on the dresser, dismissing it. After an hour, he’d poured himself a small drink. After another hour, he had moved the bottle to the table. He wasn’t sure when he’d done away with the little glass and started drinking from the bottle. It was stupid. When young, he’d never allowed himself to drink anything stronger than beer. In Africa, well, who cared what he did or what fermented thing he drank?

 

 

 

The last things he remembered were nesting on the floor because that is where Anthony liked him to sleep sometimes, then Spike joining him. The vampire had felt so good against him, and Xander so wanted to forget the list and the ghosts of all the people he’d thought about that night. In Africa, his best escape was sex. Spike was there, with him in bed, then he was alone. He had a vague memory of seeing Willow and Dawn, then he woke up on the floor alone in his nest feeling sick and very hung over.

 

 

 

Spike wasn’t there to hold his hair for him when he needed it. When Willow finally came up to look in on him, she was short with him until she determined he remembered nothing of what had transpired between them, then she left the house. When he ventured downstairs, Gunn was apologetic to the point of being annoying, and Dawn slipped out the front door as he came downstairs.

 

 

 

So he’d spent the day with Oz, walking up to the Gazebo and discussing what need to be done there. All Oz could tell Xander was that they’d heard shouting, Spike tore through the house like a tornado, and Gunn was lucky to be alive. They both knew Willow well enough that she’d confront Xander when she was ready.

 

 

 

Oz had helped his escape from the tension in the house by going on a drive to show him where the local building supply places were. They bought Xander some proper steel toed boots, ate out at Oz’s favorite pizza place, and came home late to find Dawn and Willow waiting for them. At a stern look from his wife, Oz left Xander with a supportive nod and went upstairs.

 

 

 

“Sit down, Xander,” Willow said levelly. Dawn wouldn’t look at him.

 

 

 

Xander sat, his heart tight in his chest. “I’m sorry, Willow, Dawn, I…”

 

 

 

“You don’t remember what you did, do you?” Willow said.

 

 

 

Xander looked away, staring at the dark TV screen. “Apart from making myself miserable, drinking too much, and somehow pissing off Spike? “No, sorry.”

 

 

 

Willow sighed and sat beside Dawn. “When we came in, you were crying. Dawn sat beside you to comfort you. When she put her arms around you, you dragged her down into your lap and buried your face in her neck. You then shoved aside your blankets, and, well, you were all… naked, and said you were glad they sent you such a pretty pleaser, and tried to kiss Dawnie!”

 

 

 

Xander closed his eye. “I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry.” He buried his face in his hands.

 

 

 

“When I tried to pull you off her, you dragged me down, too. You groped me! So I cast a sleep spell on you and left you where you were.”

 

 

 

Xander didn’t even try to stop the tears that ran from his eye. “I… things were different, over there. I…”

 

 

 

“You had women sent to you whenever you wanted? Were they captives like you?” Willow snapped.

 

 

 

Xander could only nod. “I… I never mistreated any of the pleasers, I swear. Last night…”

 

 

 

“You were drunk, Alexander Harris!” Willow sobbed. “I know you changed o... over there, but, Xander, you were drunk!”

 

 

 

“You don’t know what it was like, Willow,” Xander pleaded. “You can’t have any idea. Yeah, I drank and I hired pleasers,” his voice rose until he was shouting, “because I was held captive in a fucking cave and forced to kill people!”

 

 

 

Willow shouted back, “Well, you’re not there now, you can’t…” Dawn put her hand on Willow’s arm and she stopped herself and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry. It’s just I don’t even know you any more, Xander. I… you spend all you time with Spike. I’ve gotten my best friend back, but not really.”

 

 

 

“Oh, Willow,” Xander came over to the couch and knelt beside her. “I’m back, I’m just not… here yet.”

 

 

 

She let him pull her into a hug. “I know,” she whispered. “I know, I just… missed you so much.”

 

 

 

“I missed you, too.” He opened his eye and met Dawn’s dark gaze. He held out his free hand and she took it. “Both of you.” He sighed. “My experiences in the last five years changed me and I hate what I’ve become. I’ve done things I hope you never hear about. Spike… Spike is helping me so much. I should never have looked at that list without him around. If you want me to leave your house, I will. All I can do is say I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“Oh, Xander, I don’t want you to leave. Please.”

 

 

 

They shared a good, weepy hug and then sat awkwardly together. Dawn sniffed loudly, picked up the tissue box and passed it around. “Hey, at least you called us pretty,” she said.

 

 

 

Xander wiped his nose and turned to her. “I have to apologize for movie night, too, Dawn. I… there was someone who looked a lot like you when I first met you,” Xander pushed a lock of hair from her face. “She… she was a captive, too. It was seeing her that shocked me out of what I was doing. Seeing her pretty brown eyes was what made me have to get out of there somehow.”

 

 

“And you did,” Dawn said wonderingly. “It’s like you were meant to be there so Spike could find you.”

 

 

“Yeah, I’m so very lucky. And I’ve learned my lesson about drinking, that’s for sure.”

 

 

 

Willow pulled back and took his face in her hands. “I’m watching you from here on out, mister!”

 

 

 

“You and Spike both. If he forgives me, too.” He risked a hug for them both. His friends hugged him back, and he untangled himself from the soft female arms as quickly as he gracefully could. “I need a shower and some sleep. Good night, guys.”

 

 

 

He thought his trials for the night were over, but Midra stepped out of the sewing room as he reached the top of the stairs. “Tomorrow I teach you to do your own laundry, if you are going to keep wallowing your blankets on the floor like that.”

 

 

 

Xander ducked his head, suddenly very tired. Was there anyone in the house not mad at him? “I’m sorry. I can do my laundry. Hell, I used to live in a laundry room.”

 

 

 

He didn’t expect to feel Midra’s strong hand on his cheek, guiding his head up. “Xander. I am joking. You do what you need to get grounded, right?”

 

 

 

Xander gave her a little smile. “Thanks.”

 

 

 

“And try to keep your vampire off Charles. I’ve already let him have it with both barrels and he feels like a right dog for giving you that bottle.”

 

 

 

“I don’t blame him, Midra. I shouldn’t have taken it.”

 

 

 

“I do blame him. He did not think. Let him take you to that comic shop and make it up to you, okay?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, thanks.”

 

 

 

“Now go get some sleep.” Midra dropped her hand and headed for the stairs

 

 

 

“Midra, do you know where Spike went?”

 

 

 

Midra looked back. “That vamp was within a hair’s breath of breaking Charles’s neck. I’m sure he went to blow off some steam.”

 

 

 

“I don’t know. I pissed him off, too, somehow. “

 

 

 

“Don’t worry, he’ll be back. I think only the true death could part him from you now.”

 

 

 

++++++++

 

 

 

When Xander finally heard the soft creak of the first flight of stairs, then the click of the door to Spike’s room, he relaxed. True, the vampire had promised to return the next night at the latest, but Xander was glad he hadn’t gotten himself too badly beat up. Or maybe he had.

 

 

 

Xander sat up, thinking to go downstairs and investigate, then hesitated. If Spike wanted to talk to him tonight, he’d come up. Xander lay back down and listened to the subtle sounds from below. The house popped quietly, but no more was heard. Spike was probably changing clothes.

 

 

 

After half an hour, Xander was wondering just why Spike had not come up to see him. That he was still mad was the only answer Xander could come up with that fit. Well, he wasn’t going to get any rest worrying about it. Xander threw back the covers and pulled on his sweat pants and t-shirt. Quietly he padded downstairs and to Spike’s door.

 

 

 

Light shone under the door and Xander could hear the click of a keyboard from inside. Softly, he tapped on the door.

 

 

 

Spike didn’t stop his typing. He’d followed Xander’s progress through the halls. He had hoped to wait until tomorrow to talk to the man, to let the experience fade somewhat, but apparently Xander needed the support. “Come in, Xander.”

 

 

 

Xander quietly opened the door, went in, and closed the door behind himself. “Have a seat,” Spike said, not looking up or pausing in his typing, “I want to finish this thought.”

 

 

 

The only place to sit besides the chair at he desk was the bed, so he sat on the edge and looked anywhere but at the bit of computer screen visible over Spike’s shoulder. He caught a glimpse of a little icon and remembered Spike briefly showing him Live Journal. What a vampire like Spike could blog about, Xander didn’t really want to know. An open thermos and a mug sat beside the microwave, and Xander could smell warm blood. Spike’s black coat was thrown over the back of the chair sat and a suitcase sat in the corner. After a few minutes, Spike closed out the program he was using and turned around, resting his arm on the back of the chair.

 

 

 

“What’s up, Xander? It’s late.”

 

 

 

“I… I couldn’t sleep. You said you were going to go pick a fight, so I…” Xander shrugged and looked away.

 

 

 

“You wanted to see how beat up I was?” Xander shrugged again. “That’s sweet, mate, but I didn’t get in a fight.”

 

 

 

“You couldn’t find a fight to get in?” Xander joked, smiling. “What’s wrong?”

 

 

 

Spike smiled back. “I found I didn’t want to.”

 

 

 

“You smell like Willy’s bar.”

 

 

 

“I went to a demon bar I know, smoked half a pack of cigarettes, and when nothing happened after two hours, I paid my hotel bill and drove back.”

 

 

 

“That doesn’t sound like enough fun to get rid of the mad I caused you,” Xander ventured.

 

 

 

Spike shook his head. “Wasn’t you made me mad, Xander. It was Gunn. Damn fool gave you that file and bottle and left you alone. I still may have to call him out over it.”

 

 

 

“Midra already did.”

 

 

 

“Did she now? Well, maybe I should just stomp my foot in his direction just to watch him cringe.”

 

 

 

“Do you honestly think you can scare him more than Midra?”

 

 

 

“Nah. Probably not.”

 

 

 

“So… what did you get up to?”

 

 

 

Spike studied the back of his hand for a minute, looking like he wished he had some polish to pick off. “Let’s get some sleep, eat a good breakfast, let me work off the last of my restlessness with a good sparring session tomorrow, then I’ll tell you.”

 

 

 

“I won’t like it, will I?”

 

 

 

Spike cocked his head. “I honestly don’t know.” He stood up and opened the door. “Good night, Xander. I’ll see you at breakfast.”

 

 

 

Xander nodded. “Good night, Spike. I’m glad you came back.”

 

 

 

“Hey, my bike is here. I couldn’t leave her.”

 

 

 

Xander made his way upstairs and fell into a heavy sleep.

 

 

 

Spike took a sniff of his cigarette smoke-saturated sleeve and made a face. If he showed up at the breakfast table smelling like an ashtray, he’d be frowned away by the ladies for certain. Spike turned off his laptop, and went to clean up before grabbing a couple of hours sleep for himself.

 

 

 

When he came out into the hall with a towel around his hips, Willow’s door opened and the little redhead slipped out, a fluffy lime green robe with a butterfly on the breast wrapped around her.

 

 

 

“So you came back?”

 

 

 

“Did you doubt me, luv?”

 

 

 

“No. Not really. It’s just that I’m used to you disappearing before now. This is the longest you’ve ever hung around.”

 

 

 

Spike pouted. “Are you saying you’re tired of me?”

 

 

 

“No, of course not. Just…” Willow glanced upstairs. “You ran out on Xander. He’s changed so much. The things he said to Dawn and me yesterday, and grabbing us…”

 

 

 

Spike frowned. “What did he say? Why did he do?”

 

 

 

“He… He thought we were prostitutes or something. He tried to kiss us and groped us. Xander would never go to a prostitute! And you keep him upstairs all the time, with you!”

 

 

 

“He’s not the man you knew, Red.” Spike’s voice was flat as he sifted through Willows barrage of emotions.

 

 

 

“He says that, but when he comes around to dinner, he jokes and…”

 

 

 

“Like he did in high school,” Spike interrupted.

 

 

 

“What?”

 

 

 

“Boy hid his pains with jokes back then, too, didn’t he?”

 

 

 

“Well, yeah...”

 

 

 

“How long did you spend in merry ole, getting over your black-eyed day of evil?”

 

 

 

“I don’t understand…”

 

 

 

Spike stepped closer. “Several months of the coven sitting on you and Giles watching your every move for you to mostly get over the one day you trod on the dark side and the one man you killed. Xander spent five years in hell, and killed over a hundred beings. Yeah, your best friend’s changed, and there’s no one but me to get him through the worst of it. If whoever is pulling our strings is gracious enough to allow him to keep fighting his way out of hell, your friend will continue to return from the brink of insanity.”

 

 

 

“I never get to see him!” Willow pouted, half hurt, half angry. “When I do, he’s just as likely to run off when things get relaxed!”

 

 

 

“I don’t tell him what to do. I just let him make his own choices and support him however I can. He spent five years with no freedom, Red. I thought this was the best environment he could possibly be in, but maybe I was wrong. Seems no one’s looking out for him but me…”

 

 

 

Willow’s eyes widened. “No! Spike, please don’t take him away. He asked if I wanted him to leave earlier.”

 

 

 

“You confronted him?”

 

 

 

Willow looked away. “Dawn and I did. We… He made us mad!”

 

 

 

“How much did he remember?”

 

 

 

“Not much. He knows he made you mad, but not how. He didn’t remember seeing us at all. What happened between you two? We heard shouting.”

 

 

 

Spike sighed. “None of your business, Red. It’s between me and Xander.”

 

 

 

“Sorry.”

 

 

 

Spike ran a hand through his wet hair. “Look, just… continue to give him space. He… he’s like a wounded animal who has to get used to not being kicked all the time. Stop trying to make him out to be the man he was. He’s changed, we all have.”

 

 

 

“Okay.”

 

 

 

“Next time you want a word with him, let me brace for impact, yeah?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. Night, Spike.”

 

 

 

“Night, Red.”

 

 


Chapter 35

“Wake up, Xander. You’ve laid about long enough.”

 

 

 

Xander blinked up at Spike who had just pulled his warm blankets off him, then squinted toward the darkened window. “It’s not even light yet, evil one,” Xander protested and pulled the blanket back up.

 

 

 

Spike removed the covers again, this time tossing them off the bed, and leaving Xander naked. “No. It’s 10 o’clock. It’s raining out.”

 

 

 

“Oh.” Xander sat up and rubbed his face. “You want to spar, huh?”

 

 

 

“Yep. That’s the plan. What do you want for brekkies, and it’ll be ready when you come down.”

 

 

 

“Um… fruit and maybe some oatmeal.”

 

 

 

“What? No pound of pancakes, butter and bacon?”

 

 

 

“No. My system’s started to protest that treatment.”

 

 

 

“And all your new jeans getting’ tight?” Spike said with glee.

 

 

 

“Shut up, fang,” Xander growled and stood up.

 

 

 

Spike turned away before naked Xander began his habitual morning stretch. “Get your fat self downstairs! I want to fight.”

 

 

 

“Call me fat again, and I’ll give you a fight!”

 

 

 

“Okay, fattie!” Spike closed the door just before the thrown pillow could hit him.

 

 

 

+++++

 

 

 

Once in the barn, Xander set down his spare change of clothes and started his warm up. Spike just popped his neck, then waited.

 

 

 

“What do you want, Spike? You called this session.”

 

 

 

“Show me your moves and I’ll show you mine.”

 

 

 

“Shouldn’t we go out to a bar for that?” Spike could tell by the way he was joking that Xander was itching to get it over with and talk.

 

 

 

“The only bar I’ll go to with you is a coffee bar.”

 

 

 

“You know what? I still don’t like coffee.”

 

 

 

“I’ll buy you a double chocolate minty something. With ice cream and shit.”

 

 

 

“Leave out the shit, and you’re on!”

 

 

 

For almost an hour, the two grappled and talked about fighting tricks and techniques. They fought as equals, and each learned something new.

 

 

 

Xander stood panting, resting his hands on his knees. “Damn, Spike. I shouldn’t be this winded, I’ve not been out of the arena that long.”

 

 

 

Spike handed Xander a cold water from the fridge. “How long did the trip take?”

 

 

 

Xander took the bottle with a grateful nod and drained half of it before answering. “I’m not sure. Two, almost three weeks?”

 

 

 

Spike pointed up to the loft. Rain still fell, and there was no danger of stray sunlight. “Shall we adjourn to the comfy couch?”

 

 

 

Xander finished the water and nodded. “Yeah. Let me get another one of these.”

 

 

 

Soon they both sprawled on the couch, looking out into the heavy California rain.

 

 

 

“So,” Xander ventured.

 

 

 

“So, what?”

 

 

 

“Are we good, Spike? I… I don’t remember what I did. All I know is I was lonely and sad, and in the caves, the cure for that was sex.”

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “Always been one of my favorite outlets when I can get it.”

 

 

 

“I groped you, didn’t I?”

 

 

 

“Yep.”

 

 

 

“So you left.” Xander sounded almost hurt.

 

 

 

Spike studied Xander as he hid behind a fall of hair. “Ah, Xander. You would have regretted it in the morning, we both would.”

 

 

 

“We would?”

 

 

 

“Yeah, that’s no way to start anything.”

 

 

 

Xander peeked at Spike. “Are you saying you want to start something with me?”

 

Spike shifted, and looked out at the rain. “I don’t know about that, but you’re certainly not hard on the eye.”

 

 

 

“Thanks.” Xander watched the rain, too. “You’re not so bad yourself.”

 

 

 

“I know that.”

 

 

 

“So you’re not mad at me for… getting fresh?”

 

 

 

“I’m a bit hurt that you dove into the world of pain that is that damned file without me. And it was damned stupid to have that bottle within a mile of you.”

 

 

 

Xander ducked his head. “I know.”

 

 

 

“Why’d you do it? I didn’t have to go out with Oz.”

 

 

 

“You were so excited and… I’m a big boy. I already felt bad from thinking about… about Anthony’s death. I didn’t think I could feel worse than that.”

 

 

 

“Well, it was a bloody stupid thing to do, and I hope you never do that again, cause you don’t have to face things alone.”

 

 

 

“I know,” Xander said quietly. “I’m sorry.”

 

 

 

“Oh, don’t be bloody sorry.”

 

 

 

“But I fucked things up with everyone else in the house, too.”

 

 

 

“No, not everyone.”

 

 

 

“Okay, Willow and Dawn. God! Did you know I hit on them, too?”

 

 

 

“Willow told me last night. Do you know that girl actually had the gall to pout because you don’t spend time with her? One minute she complains about how you misbehaved, and the next it’s all about her.”

 

 

 

“That’s my Willow. Maybe… maybe I should spend more time with them.”

 

 

 

“Does it make you uncomfortable?”

 

 

 

“Gods, yes.”

 

 

 

“Then don’t.”

 

 

 

“I live under her roof, she’s opened her home to me.”

 

 

 

“You could move.”

 

 

 

Xander looked at Spike. “Move? Where?”

 

 

 

“Anywhere in the bloody world. You’ve got the money to buy a nice house almost anywhere.”

 

 

 

“I guess I do. I hadn’t thought about that.”

 

 

 

“It’s an option.”

 

 

 

“But I don’t want to, Spike. I… I love my friends.”

 

 

 

Spike sighed. “Then sit them all down and tell them what’s up with you. Willow’s acting like you haven’t changed. Dawn had never experienced anything like what you’ve been through. Oz understands, he’s got his own demon. Gunn knows in theory, cause he’s been in the dark shit himself, but he doesn’t know you. Midra knows Africa and respects the hell out of you. Talk to them, Xander.”

 

 

 

“I should. I really should. I mean, Willow deserves to know, and if she thinks I’m spending too much time with you, then, I owe her.”

 

 

 

“I think Willow’s jealous of me.”

 

 

 

“Willow’s…” Xander laughed. “Right.”

 

 

 

“She is.”

 

 

 

“I’ll talk to them, for certain.”

 

 

 

They sat quietly together for a few minutes, sharing the revelations.

 

 

 

Xander broke the quiet. “Tell me your stress relief secrets.”

 

 

 

Spike peered sideways at Xander. “Tell you what, mate. I’ll answer you fairly, but I get to ask what I want, too.”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “It was that bad, huh? Okay, I got nothing to hide.”

 

 

 

Spike watched the rain fall for a minute before answering. “I went to the big city, picked up a young man, took him back to my hotel room, cleaned him up, fed him, and had sex with him.”

 

 

 

Spike listened to Xander’s heart jump. “So… you just picked up some random hustler?”

 

 

 

Spike had to admire Xander’s carefully schooled reaction. “No. I chose quite carefully.” He glanced at Xander who nodded for him to continue. “There has always been one street in every city where the newbies wind up. I don’t know why this happens, but trust me, it does.” Spike looked back at the rain. “He was tall, dark haired, broad shouldered, and had only been in the business for a month or so.”

 

 

 

Xander felt his heart skip when he matched the description to his own features. As much as he knew Spike had probably picked up on that, he would keep his cool. He didn’t look at Spike. “I can’t judge you. Hell, I hired enough pleasers in my time.”

 

 

 

“Why call them pleasers? Seems like a soft word some pasha would use.”

 

 

 

Xander shrugged. “It’s just what they were called there. I don’t know why.”

 

 

 

Spike felt Xander’s hesitation. “Ask away, Xander.”

 

 

 

“It’s just that I… I envy you that you can hire someone when you’re horny. I can never do that again. It’s not right.”

 

 

 

“Did you hire male pleasers?”

 

 

 

“Yeah. I did. There was one… Zack. He’s a Jewish college student, who was traveling abroad to gain new experiences. How ironic is that. He was slim, with pretty dark eyes and thick black hair. He… he liked me because I let him top.” Xander laughed. “I’d play the girl for him, cause the other fighters… well…”

 

 

 

“He was small so they liked to use him,” Spike supplied.

 

 

 

“Yeah. Maybe… maybe we can get him out of there.”

 

 

 

“Okay, Zack is on the list with Morgan. Your turn.”

 

 

 

“Why a newbie?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“It’s a catch and release program.”

 

 

 

“Huh?”

 

 

 

“Before the soul, it was catch and kill. Okay, sometimes it was catch, torture, kill, but you get the idea. Anyway, I learned his problems, what he was running away from. Instead of leaving him in a dumpster, I gave him the number of a good lawyer and put him on a plane back home.” Spike turned to meet Xander’s gaze squarely, daring him to tease. When a smile started to form on Xander’s generous lips, Spike looked away. “Plus, I like the way those new to the game are unsure and fumble. It’s… a turn on.”

 

 

 

Xander blew out a breath. “I know what you mean.”

 

 

 

Spike raised a brow, resisting the urge to picture Xander with his slim lover, and shook his head. “Ever take another vampire lover?”

 

 

 

Xander took the lid off the bottle and drained the last of it. Spike let him fiddle and take his time. Finally, Xander sighed. “No. I couldn’t trust any of them. I was in a position of power, and had to be careful.”

 

 

 

“No offence, mate, but how did you hold that power?”

 

 

 

“I owe a lot of that to Harse.”

 

 

 

“Harse?”

 

 

 

“Vampire, big guy. When they brought him in, he got put in a cage with a Nughla demon who had a grudge against vampires. The demon had just rallied the others in the cage to attack him. I don’t know why I did it, but I went in there and pulled them off him.”

 

 

 

“You found a lieutenant.”

 

 

 

“Yeah. Harse was big, ugly, and steady. He had all the common sense you could want, but no imagination. He was called Harse because he mispronounced horse.” Xander started tossing the bottle cap from hand to hand. “It was also because I was liked. I kept things as good as I could for the other fighters. You know, it turned out there was a track in a valley in the mountain they could run on. Hell, I didn’t know about it for three years. Kinda mad at Anthony for not letting me out.”

 

 

 

“I was wondering how you were so tanned after living in caves.”

 

 

 

“It was a dangerous track, but moral increased ten fold.”

 

 

 

“Shall we put Harse on the rescue list?”

 

 

 

Xander shook his head. “No. He’s very much a soulless demon who dreamed of getting out to rip the heads off babies. And he wasn’t good for dinner conversation, either.”

 

 

 

Spike chuckled. “I’ve had plenty of minions like that. One fella was a good worker, but I had to keep ripping out his tongue ever so often cause he’d prattle on so.”

 

 

 

“Ew.”

 

 

 

“Tell me about it. Made him a messier eater, too. You need to tell Gunn about the track. It may help us in finding the place.”

 

 

 

“There’s a lot I need to tell him, I guess.”

 

 

 

“In your own time, Xander.”

 

 

 

“Thank you, Spike.”

 

 

 

“What for?”

 

 

 

“What for? For being more understanding than my oldest friend in the world. For… for not turning away from me when I assaulted you.”

 

 

 

“Well, if you look at it another way, you’ve already hired me.” Spike put his hands behind his head and stretched out his long legs. “I mean, we agreed that I would help you over the rough spots…”

 

 

 

“Spike!” Xander sputtered. “Don’t be a tease.”

 

 

 

“Who says I’m teasing?”

 

 

 

“I do!” Xander leapt to his feet. “Now let’s… let’s go another round if you’ve caught your breath.”

 

 

 

“I never lost my breath. Well, once, over a hundred years ago, but if you think you can challenge me this time…”

 

 

 

This round of sparring, Xander was more closed mouthed and focused. Spike could tell he was angry about something. Finally, Xander’s anger caused him to let his guard slip.

 

 

 

Spike knocked him to the ground and straddled him. “There!” he panted. “I knew you wanted me on top.”

 

 

 

The fierceness with which Xander responded to his joke caught him off guard, and Spike found himself on his back.

 

 

 

“I told you not to tease me, Spike!” Xander shouted down at him. “Damn it! Of course I want you on top! I want anybody on top! Or bottom! I’m so fucking horny!” Xander stomped away and leaned with both forearms against the wall and his head down. “And I’m apparently not good enough for you, you had to go off and hire some random whore!”

 

 

 

In an instant, Spike was behind Xander, trapping his hands against the wood with one of his. “You want I should have given in? Huh?” Roughly, Spike tugged open Xander’s draw string pants and shoved them down. “Is this what you want?”

 

 

 

“Let me go!” Xander struggled against the smaller, yet stronger man.

 

 

 

Spike pressed against him. “Make up your mind, Xander! I walked away because I wanted to take! You think it’s easy for me? Do you know how long it’s been since anyone’s touched me with desire without me paying them?”

 

 

 

“Stop it,” Xander said with less conviction, loosing some of the tension in his body.

 

 

 

Spike leaned close and talked low in his ear. “I like what we have, Xander. I left because I wanted…” He let go of Xander’s hands and turned away. “I wanted something base that would have messed that up. You’re worth more than being used as an itch scratcher.”

 

 

 

Xander remained leaning against the wall, unmindful of his partial nudity. He was more embarrassed at his outburst. He hadn’t looked at the situation from Spike’s point of view; he’d been so long on his own. A sob rose in his throat and he let it out. “I’m sorry. I… I didn’t know.”

 

 

 

“No. I didn’t tell ya, did I? I… I’m not used to anyone giving a damn about how I feel or when I come and go.”

 

 

 

Xander cried against his hands, and when Spike touched him this time, it was to gently turn him around. Spike took the big man in his arms and held him as he cried himself out.

 

 

 

“I can’t stop pissing people off, can I?” Xander asked.

 

 

 

“Sorry about that, mate. You just changed directions too quickly for me to follow. Used to be good at that, what with Dru’s madness and all. I guess I’m out of practice.”

 

 

 

Xander pulled away and rubbed at his face, sniffing loudly. “You saying I’m nuts?”

 

 

 

“Naw. I know for nuts, and you’re not.”

 

 

 

“Thanks. Mind if I pull my pants up?”

 

 

 

“Make yourself comfortable, Xander. That’s all I ask.”

 

 

 

Xander redressed himself and didn’t look up as he tied the string. “I’m comfortable naked, to tell the truth.”

 

 

 

“Then be naked.”

 

 

 

“I don’t want to tease.”

 

 

 

Spike stepped close to Xander and brought his hand up to the back of Xander’s head. For an instant, Xander thought Spike was going to kiss him, but the vampire guided his head down and rested their foreheads together. “I never expected to be lucky enough to be liked by you, Harris.”

 

 

 

“What does that mean, Spike?”

 

 

 

“I mean, I gave you such a hard time long ago cause I could see the big heart you had and how you used it. I knew I’d never be… liked by you, so I did my best to not think about it.”

 

 

 

“Silly vamp.”

 

 

 

“What I’m trying to say is, I like what we’ve got here. I like… holding and being held. Yeah, I may have to run off some times.”

 

 

 

“That’s fine. Just…” Xander moved away, feeling suddenly awkward, “just tell me what’s up. Or at least when you’re coming back, okay?”

 

 

 

“As long as you tell me ahead when you’re going to do something traumatic.”

 

 

 

“Sounds fair. I… I’m going to go clean up now.” Xander turned towards the showers.

 

 

 

“I think I’ll go work on the bike, seeing as I’m all dusty and the like.”

 

 

 

“Hey, Spike,” Xander called him back. “Can we still… I like to share a bed with you. Or at least a room. I mean, the room’s big enough we could put two single beds in...”

 

 

 

Spike laughed. “Xander, we’re both too old for bunk beds. Let’s just keep it like it is and talk more about us, yeah?”

 

 

 

“Yeah.”

 

 

 

Once in the shower, Xander wasted no time in acknowledging the erection that he’d been suppressing all morning. He pictured some stranger covering Spike, and remembered the strong, lean thighs pressed against his own. Spike truly thought he was attractive. It meant more to him than he’d realized.

 

 

 

In the tunnel under the garage, Spike took a minute to get his head together. The man truly wanted him. Wasn’t that a kick in the ass?

 

Unbreakable Chapters 36-41

Comments (0)

You don't have permission to comment on this page.