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Chapter 7 Mr Convenience
Early morning, and Xander
sat at the kitchen table, clutching a mug of coffee that he hadn’t felt able to move to take a sip from in two
hours, precariously balanced between despondency over the lack of any control he
seemed to have over his abilities, and fear of being driven to a state of
lunacy by the effects of them. Exactly as he’d told
Spike he would, he’d meditated, he’d been calm, the voices were at a bearable
level, and he’d felt perfectly in control when he’d laid down to go to sleep in his own bed. Too stubborn or proud, or something equally
as futile under the circumstances, he’d dismissed Spike’s suggestions of
sharing a bed, or even just moving the mattress (and himself) closer. By four a.m. Xander was pacing and frantic,
desperate for help and literally throwing himself at Spike the moment the
vampire had even hinted at a renewed offer. Okay, he usually had
difficulty sleeping due to the constant stream of voices, but that was his
life, that was normal. Constantly tired
was normal. Right now…anything but normal. Screaming, screaming, screaming, never
resting for a moment. Screaming. Not normal. So, exhausted,
overwhelmed, and feeling quite hopeless.
Plus there were no words to describe this level of frustration. Dread.
What if this doesn’t stop? What if something about me has changed and
it’s permanent? Not about Dead Guy,
nothing to do with Spike’s problem at all.
At this rate he’d be Spike’s
problem. Spike. Spike was…peace. How the fuck did he get to the point where
Spike was peace? And how did getting off for
a second time with the peaceful dead help?
Can’t happen again. So wrong to take advantage of him like
that. Can’t happen again. But…Spike was peace. The only peace, and
rapidly being made inaccessible by Xander’s wholly inappropriate physical
reaction to the unexpected kindness and soothing touches, to the proximity of a
real and solid body. Peace, and the comfort of
someone to hold. Comfort, yes. “You’re…comfort.” They understood one another,
it seemed, he and… Spike. How the fuck did he get to the point… His phone was only inches
away from his hand, tempting him to make one quick call home, the Colbergs, or
Douglas: couple of questions, timely reassurance, where was the harm? Funny you should ask that, he answered himself brusquely. The
harm, I decided at six this morning, is the killers of Dead Guy going after my
friends rather than me. If someone
believes my friends have any information they might be in danger, but if they
say they don’t know a thing and aren’t believed they might be in danger anyway,
and maybe they already are and if I don’t go back they’ll be hurt or worse and… So it went on. Over.
And over. And over. Trying to ignore the fact
that peace was a flight of stairs away. Trying. “I don’t need Spike, I
can do this, I can cope by myself,” Xander said aloud. With a
little help, to himself. And as he
tried for the nth time since dawn to reach out for that elusive help he was
abruptly able to identify a major part of his problem, shocked that he’d been
too preoccupied dealing with the disruption, the psychological trauma resulting
from the massive volume of noise to notice the significance until now. Help. “Help?” It wasn’t peace that
Xander pursued now, but the only sounding board he had. Up the stairs at a run, he raced into the
room he was sharing with Spike and…came to an indecisive halt at the sight of
the vampire’s still form, envious of the untroubled sleep and reluctant to
disturb that coveted state. But Spike was already
waking, slowly and rather foggily because an automatic scenting proved the
interruption to be Xander, and no threat; he dozily reached out for the human. “Xander?” he muttered,
and smiled as he felt the mattress dip with Xander’s weight. “Hey, Spike.” At the sound of Xander’s
miserable voice, Spike was fully awake in an instant, eyes springing open and
hand already reaching to rest consolingly on a bare forearm. “Tell me.” “What’s to tell?” Xander
said with an insuppressible tremor in his voice. “Bad night, couldn’t sleep, first because of
the jackhammers, next because I felt so screwed up. I was wrong about taking control, I can’t do
that. Meditation doesn’t work, all the
lessons Doug taught me are useless, and…
Since I got up, it’s been so loud, in my head, like…like… Imagine a hundred people shouting at you at
once, amplified and amplified again, all somehow able to stand…” Xander held his hands up, either side of his
head, no more than two inches from each ear.
“Screaming. Nothing makes
sense. Nothing. I’m scared that I’m losing… Fuck! All I am.” “Don’t panic, that won’t
help.” “Help, yes, that’s what I
came to tell you. I can’t get help.” “Your guide?” Spike speculated. “Saul and Jesse. Whatever is happening here is pushing them
away. Jesse is gone, completely gone,
and I can barely feel Saul, can’t hear a word he says, not clearly.” “Is it me? What I’ve got you into?” Spike frowned. “That’d be easy, wouldn’t
it? To blame you for everything. But I can’t do that, and not just because I
should be able to stop the worst of this.
I made the decision to help you, I’m not being coerced, and I have to
take the consequences, whatever happens.” “Is there a chance,”
Spike began tentatively, “that you’re doing this to yourself? No, let me finish. I know I don’t really understand any of this,
but I’m wondering if you’re so scared of losing what you’ve got you’re somehow…overcompensating. Opening yourself up to more.” “I’ve been trying to stop
the voices, not…” “Any chance it could be…I
d’know, a subconscious reaction? It’s
been a hard few days for you, maybe…”
Spike shrugged. He also tried to
fathom what was going on behind that glazed expression Xander now had on his
face. “What?” he asked when he couldn’t. “Quiet,” Xander murmured,
and his eye closed in blissful appreciation. The hand still on
Xander’s arm squeezed and gently tugged, Spike coaxing Xander to lay alongside
him. “Yes. Quiet.
You relax now,” Spike suggested as he gave a few calming strokes to Xander’s
stomach. “I’ll shut the ghosts up for
you. You take it easy, have a bit of a
nap, everything will seem easier when you’re not exhausted.” “You think?” “C’mon,” Spike smiled,
“few of those deep breaths humanity seems to find so useful.” “Just humanity? I’ve noticed that you sure breathe a lot for
someone who doesn’t have to breathe.” “We all have bad
habits. If I turned you…” “Can you not?” “Turn you or speculate?” “Yes.” “Deeeeep breath,” Spike
encouraged with a grin; Xander almost smiled and absolutely obeyed. Few breaths, peace and
quiet, and the tension began to ebb, leaving Xander thinking that maybe Spike
was right, that sleep and deal was the way forward. New meditative mantra: sleep and deal. Sleep and
deal. Sleep and… “Not happening,” Xander
groaned. “It will if you’re
quiet.” “Talk to me.” “Bore you to sleep? Got the wrong bloke here for that, you should
have opted for Angel when you had the chance.” “You trying to give me
nightmares?” “Talk to you.” Spike considered. “With you or at you?” “Either,” Xander yawned. Pause for thought. “You know when we were
talking yesterday, after…after my father showed up?” Xander nodded. “I said I wanted him to be in hell and you
said it’s not that simple.” Xander
nodded again. “Can you explain
that? ‘Cause I’ve always thought heaven
or hell, not options. When we spoke
about the soul before you never mentioned options.” “You sure about
this? You were pretty upset about Edmund
not…” “I want to
understand.” Xander drew breath to talk
Spike out of this but Spike pressed on.
“Edmund is clearly not in hell.
How close was rehabilitation to the mark?” “You’re not going to lose
your temper if you hear something you don’t like?” “Probably. But like I said last night, no taking it out
on you.” Xander turned to face
Spike; whatever reassurances the vampire gave him, he needed to see Spike’s
expression so he could gauge exactly when to shut up. “Anyone who passes into
spirit damaged, or ill, or not right in any way is helped to become well. If they’ve been bad they’re encouraged to see
that and…” “Back to sodding
repentance, are we?” “Sodding repentance can
be a part of the healing process, yes.” “Buffy went to heaven not
hospital. Heaven.” “Buffy got what she
needed and that’s what it’s all about.
Y’know the average person with an average life will get something…” “Average? There’s motivation to live as long as
possible.” “Tell you what: you
snipe, I’ll sleep.” Xander started to roll
away but Spike caught him and tugged him back. “Sorry. Sorry, carry on.” Xander paused, taking a
moment to decide whether carrying on was worth the effort: this was a Spike he
remembered well, stroppy and demanding, only hearing whatever was necessary to
feed his acerbic comments. But he also had
that infuriating way of looking deeply interested if it suited him. Like now. “Sure?” Xander asked
wearily. “The average person…?” Sigh. “Wants what they’re
familiar with, and they can have that, they can have the family members they’ve
lost back with them, they can have their pets, they can have an eternity of –
of…watching baseball. Lying on the
beach. Or travelling the world seeing
the wonders they’d missed out on seeing when they were alive. Pick a heaven, every one is personal. “Everything’s hunky dory,
no matter what kind of bastard you were in life?” “Some of the worst
characters get trapped here, on this plane, no eternal rest, just the constant
reminder of everything they did wrong.
No peace. Ever.” “If they give a toss. I don’t
believe every…what are we talking about?
War criminals? Serial
killers? You can’t tell me that every
one of them regrets their actions.” “I wouldn’t try to. They’re just people after all, and some people can’t ever be helped.” “But no hell? Fire and brimstone?” “Hell dimensions, we know. Hell, as such, for humans…not sure. It may be that spirits in a human hell can’t contact mediums. That would explain why I’ve never had contact with one of them.” “It’d be a privilege, they wouldn’t be due privileges.” “Yeah, see, that works.” Xander gave Spike a sleepy, apologetic smile. “I did warn you that I wasn’t sure about all this stuff.” “Edmund…” Spike said
thoughtfully. “If the people around him
knew how he’d behaved, and disapproved…
Edmund might have cared enough about their opinions to…reconsider his
actions.” “I’ve experienced
instances when a person gets what they think they deserve, projecting
themselves into a hell of their own design.
But they’re helped. I get the
impression that very few souls are beyond healing. Even if it begins with the wrong motivation –
and I don’t doubt that you know Edmund well enough to judge – it usually ends
with the right results. A lot of spirits
come through to apologise for something they screwed up in their lives.” Spike laid his fingertips
on the back of Xander’s wrist, remaining motionless as he mulled over what
they’d been discussing. “We going to listen if he
comes back?” he eventually asked in a quiet, guarded tone, more William than Spike,
Xander imagined. “I may not have any
choice, but you do. If you want to
listen to what he has to say, then I promise you I’ll be as accurate as I can,
even try to get something directly back to him if that’s what you need. But the choice is yours. William’s.” “William,” Spike snorted, before he switched to a mockery of his
nineteenth century accent. “Yes,
Papa. No, Papa. Young Master Harris may allude to the choice
being mine, but one cannot utter boo to a fucking goose.” “Lucky you have Spike to
speak for you.” “Too bloody right! And all I’ll have for him is…fuck off, Papa.” “So. You want me to tell you if he…” “Don’t even give him that
much consideration. He turns up, you
come to me and we’ll let the demon scare him away.” “I’ll do that,” Xander
yawned. “Now, you mind if I…” Xander closed his eye. “‘Nother minute, that’s
all. Xander?” Xander opened his eye. “Yeah, still here.” “William – the soul –
will get what he wants. But the demon
will get what it deserves. Real not
projected hell, supposedly. Even a demon
like me who’s doing their best to fight the good fight.” “Sorry. I didn’t make the rules. But at least William…” “I’m not William, I’m Spike. Not a truly bad man, not anymore, but I’m Spike and I’m damned.” “You’ll carry on as…” “Someone I don’t want to be?” “The impression your mother gave me is that William was a fine person.” “But it isn’t me. I’m what the demon made me, what I made myself, I’m Spike. What would be left if that was stripped away? William Armitage with William the Bloody’s memories? Or William Armitage with no memories of the life I’ve lived since I was turned? Without those memories I wouldn’t be me at all, and I’m not talking about the blood and gore, I’m talking about the world around me, how I’ve seen it change, what I’ve learnt, observed, been a part of. Thousands of experiences I…” Spike stopped and sighed. “That’d be it, wouldn’t it? Losing all of Spike, good, bad and indifferent. I’d be the William that died in that alley.” “What about the memories since you got the soul back?” “Yes,” Spike considered, “what about them? Demon-tainted so they’re out too, I’d guess.” “Maybe… If you didn’t remember Spike you wouldn’t miss him. That sounds cruel, I know, but…” “I want to remember, and I’d settle for bad as well as good.” “No, that’d be wrong. Without the influence of the demon, some of the things you’ve done would be unbearable. No demon and you – William - would be better off without the memories.” “William knew bugger all about living, and everything I know will be lost.” “Back to if you didn’t know you wouldn’t care.” “But it isn’t right, it isn’t…fair.” Xander raised an eyebrow at the demon who’d murdered uncountable humans whingeing about fairness, and Spike had the decency to look embarrassed. “Where were you between
Sunnydale and LA? Do you remember?” That quietened Spike for
a while. A deep frown lined his brow as
he tried to recall anything about that time. “In the amulet?” he
eventually suggested in a less than confident tone. “The amulet. You mean…the bling that ate Sunnydale?” “Didn’t you ever hear the
full story?” “No.” “Where did you think I’d
turned up from then?” “At the time? Didn’t care.” “Angel was sent the
amulet and I popped out.” “Like a genie?” “Near enough.” “Wow. And…wow.” “So that must have been
where I was. In the amulet.” “You don’t remember…” Spike was already shaking
his head. “For me, it was…turning
to ash, and a minute later…un-turning.” “Kinda screws with where
I was going but… Maybe it means that the
Powers will intervene when you finally finally
get dusted.” “I’ll get to heaven? Whole me?” “It’s a theory.” “When I came out of the
amulet I was, effectively, a ghost, and there was a time when I was being
dragged toward hell, I could feel what was waiting for me. The threat was enough. The reality…”
Spike shuddered. “You asked me if
I ever got scared and I don’t mind telling you I was terrified of that prospect.” “That’s a while back
now.” “Yeah, but I’ve had a
couple of near misses recently. We’ve.
Me and Angel. That’d really be hell, wouldn’t it? Having to spend eternity with him.” “Can we leave tearing
Angel to shreds until I’m awake enough to enjoy it?” “Right.” “Though… These must have been scarily near misses to fix your mind on all this.” “They were…” Spike’s expression fleetingly exposed more
ghastly memories before he forced himself away from the past and toward the
hopefully distant future. “The Powers
could send me to heaven, yeah? And it’d
be whatever I want it to be? Could
I…catch up with my mum?” “Yep.” “Or sit in the sun? I’d have decent beer, constant nooky, and
… Oh.”
The growing smile disintegrated.
“Does that mean I’d have to meet Edmund?” “Only if you wanted
to. If it ever happens you won’t have to
do anything or meet anyone unless…” “You’re making this up,
aren’t you? It’s all too…perfect.” “That, Spike, is why we
call it heaven.” Nothing further from
Spike, and Xander began to seriously doze, rousing himself only to turn onto
his other side, noticing that the vampire’s hand had not only come along for
the ride, but brought the rest of its body for company. “Comfort, huh?” Spike pressed in close
and tightened his grip. “Comfort.” … It was with great
trepidation that Xander crept from the Spike zone later, but his fears proved
ungrounded. Miraculously, it seemed, he
was back to business as usual, low hum of voices, Saul’s reassuring presence. “What happened? … All
night, this morning, how could you not be aware? …
That’s…creepy. How come only I…” “You’re as bad as those
people who can’t read to themselves,” Spike interrupted as he sprawled out over
the area Xander had recently vacated. “I
had a cousin who did that, constantly
did that. All the voices too, and it’s
not like he had a talent for it, he completely ruined Dickens for me. Can you imagine a Macawber who sounded like
an English Barney Rubble? It was worth
being turned just to kill him.” Spike stopped
griping long enough to notice that Xander was leaving. “Hang on, where are you off to?” “I’m going back to the
pool.” “Why?” “Because I think it will
be productive. You might have been right
about me panicking and making things bad for myself, and you were absolutely
right about catching up on some sleep, I feel great, rested, on top of my game,
I want to exploit that.” “Wait a few hours and I
can go with you.” “But going in daylight
gives me a better feel of how it would have been for Spike clicked into
automatic protestation mode, hesitated, clicked out again. “Get yourself killed,” he
said with a dismissive wave. “Thanks,” Xander grinned,
delighted not to have yet another argument on the subject. “If the next time I speak
to you it’s via “I told you so. Yeah, I can imagine. I’ll be careful.” “Oi! Mr Convenience!” Spike called Xander back from the hallway. “What?” “Be careful.” “I said I’d be careful.” “Yeah, but this is me
telling you. Be careful.” “Are we being
bugged? Does Angel have to hear you say
that or you get your ass kicked?” “Piss off,” Spike
grumped, and Xander smiled brightly in agreement, leaving at speed before Spike
thought of new ways to delay him. Spike rose and crossed to
the window to watch him go, Xander’s exuberance plain to see as he bounded down
the path that eventually led to the thicket that eventually led to the
pool. A movement caught the vampire’s
peripheral vision and his head snapped around as he tried to determine the
source. Nothing out of the
ordinary. Apparently. He continued to study the
immediate vicinity, grateful that the shade from the house’s eaves meant he
could take his time without fear of ignition.
It didn’t take long to work out the best way to get to Xander should he
need to: leave by the front rather than the back door, skirt the wall of the
house, along by the chicken coop, then he’d be risking the daylight until he
got to the shade of the trees. If he was
careful to avoid any stray sunbeams that managed to sneak through the canopy of
branches, he should be able to get close enough to the pool to carry out a dash
and grab if saving the human became necessary. Shouldn’t become necessary, Spike knew, despite all his
scaremongering. But there were worse
ways of spending his time than plotting to save Xander’s arse. And, as he’d unfortunately noticed, as arses
went, this was a rather nice one. … The walk to the pool was
chilly and windy, and the rainfall during the morning had left the ground
slippery and, in places, treacherous, but Xander enjoyed every step, skid and
scramble of it. No appearance by Wayne
as yet, and that disappointed him a little, but he had Saul for company, plus, amidst
the drone, various other distinct voices that appeared to have connections with
people in the town; he was tempted to ask Chrissie if it would be possible to
arrange a very low-key meeting for any interested locals, but the joint threat
of the uber-nasty, and the predictable tirade of Spike’s single-minded
objections was off-putting enough to get him past that questionable idea
reasonably quickly. The pool came into view
and Xander experienced a surge of spiritual energy that stimulated all his
psychic senses to a point where he felt like he was buzzing with the strength
of his abilities. Knowing this was going
to be a successful encounter, Xander picked up speed, determined and excited
and recalling earlier days when every contact, however vague, made him feel as
energised. Powerful impressions hit
him as he finally arrived at the water’s edge; such a beautiful, tranquil spot,
even today, protected from the worst of the blustery weather by the density of
the surrounding trees and shrubs. He
made his way to the bench that was little more than a storm-broken branch
hefted across two boulders, sat, and relaxed.
Dropped the few defences he had and opened his mind. Smiled.
He could feel Xander unconsciously
gasped for air as he felt Xander yanked himself out of the re-enactment, shaky from the vivid sensations and needlessly whooping in huge breaths, but recovering quickly and well, knowing he was in control. In control: after the disturbed night, and morning brimful of despair, it was quite thrilling. With Saul’s help he explored the residual energy for more information, and it wasn’t long before an invasive sensation of being spied on made his skin itch, causing tingles that ran up and down his spine; the feeling was so strong and persistent that Xander began to wonder if this was about now as well as then. Possibly now rather than then? Now. Spike’s casually dismissed warnings about the killer rushed through his mind and left a smirking, vampiry ‘I told you so’ in their wake; as his heart began to pound, it was all Xander could do to fight the urge to look around, determined not to warn anyone hiding in the shade of the trees of his suspicions, taking time out from his investigations to force himself a little calmer. On alert now, but belligerently
determined not to be frightened away when he was working so well, he continued
his reading of the area, careful not to outwardly react to any new revelation,
and eventually, unhurriedly, pulling his cell phone from his pocket, pretending
to make a call and clearly telling the imaginary recipient that there was… “Nothing. Chrissie is going to be so disappointed that
there’s nothing more, but I can’t tell her what I don’t know.” …and faking a few more
sentences of mundane conversation before putting the phone away. With defeated body language, Xander left the pool, listening hard and hearing a branch crack, but distantly; picking up speed, he hoped that meant whoever had been watching had been assured by his act that the killer’s name was not about to be revealed. Always a chance he was about to be ambushed by someone who knew the short cuts, but Xander chose to concentrate on getting back to the house as fast and as safely as possible, and not scaring himself with scenarios that ended with him sharing Wayne’s fate. One thing he pretty much
knew: it was doubtful he’d ever be quite so happy to see Spike again. … Spike’s newest pastime:
Xander watching. He’d been studying him
closely since he’d come back from the pool and, although the man had barely
spoken a word, Spike was able to judge that something had either occurred, been
revealed, or had troubled his charge enough to bring about a great deal of
intense thought. As Xander thought, and
Spike watched, Chrissie returned from the diner and chattered on to the pair of
them about her sons, home, work, life, not noticing that her audience was
preoccupied, obviously just glad to have adults in the house to talk to for a
change. A decent, unremarkable woman who
didn’t deserve what the fates had heaped upon her, Xander considered as he
emerged from his deliberations in time to hear her suggestions for the evening
meal. “Is there a Chinese
take-out in town?” he asked; Chrissie nodded.
“Great, that’ll save you cooking for us again. Providing you like Chinese food,” Xander
finished with a questioning look. “I do, we both do, and we
haven’t had any for such a long time.” “Associations?” Xander
asked reticently. “Cost,” Chrissie
countered. “It’s an extravagance we do
without.” “Well, tonight, you be as
extravagant as you like: Spike’s paying.” “Is he?” Spike asked,
switching on to the conversation at the mention of his name. “He is. Or his bos—”
Glare. “Er…business partner is.” “Oh, right, yes, whole
menu, three times over if Angel’s paying.” “I have their leaflet in
the kitchen somewhere. The prices will
be out of date but it’s the same address.” As Chrissie hurried off
to search, Xander went into the hallway and called up the stairs. “Toby! Spike’s buying Chinese. You want some?” Xander dropped his voice. “Or are you so full of shit there’s no
room?” He heard Spike’s snigger next
door, a timely reminder of the vampire’s enhanced hearing. Toby evidently didn’t
loath their guests quite enough to pass up the chance of a free meal and was
quick to join them and make a list of his preferred dishes; Chrissie’s face
fell as he kept adding and adding, and when Xander asked for her choice she
demurred, saying she’d share with her son, earning herself a filthy look from
the boy. “If you don’t pick, Spike
really will buy everything,” Xander insisted, and Chrissie apologetically
pointed out a couple of favourites. Dangling the keys on one
finger, Xander lured Spike out to the car before ceremoniously handing them
over. “You come with me to pick
up the food,” Spike told him, glancing back at the house’s open front
door. “It’ll give us a chance to talk,”. “You’re hardly the last
of the romantics.” Xander pressed his hand
to his chest. “I’m sure, deep in your
heart, you don’t want your first time with the Mustang to be a threesome.” “C’mon, get in.” “No.” “You’re going to tell me
what happened, Xander, you might as well accept that and spit it out.” Xander just stood and stared, unsurprisingly
stubborn. “What went wrong?” “Nothing, and I’d rather
you didn’t assume I always fuck up.” Another rapid look toward
the house then Spike moved, grabbing the front of Xander’s shirt and pulling
him close before he could back away. “You know, don’t you?” he
asked confidentially. “What happened to
the boy. Who happened to the boy.”
More obstinate silence, and Spike’s grip loosened, fingers smoothing out
the crumpled material. New strategy:
perhaps he could coax where he couldn’t threaten. Still lightly stroking, he dropped his voice,
filled it with concern. “You’re an
intelligent man, Xander, you don’t need me to tell you how much danger you
could be in, keeping that kind of information to yourself.” Xander’s hand flattened
Spike’s, stopping the movement before patting patronisingly. “Don’t forget the fortune
cookies,” Xander told him with a strained smile, “and don’t forget…what’s a
convenient lie for you is truth to me: I’m smarter than you think.” “It wasn’t a lie.” “It wasn’t the truth, and
don’t make it worse by lying about that now.” “All right, you’re an
idiot and if you carry on like this you’re going to die. Happy?” A shout from the doorstep
disturbed them mid-scowl. “Hey, Spike! Get soda.” “Fuck off!” “Ah, gross. You two ever stop?” Toby made obvious
retching noises as he stomped back inside, leaving Xander and Spike to take a
look at their proximity to one another. Neither
was particularly bothered: Xander’s mind insisted
Spike-plus-close-equals-peace, circumstances be damned, and Spike… Spike’s hand twisted beneath Xander’s and
tangled their fingers, staring at the contact and once again pondering the
strangeness of any kind of physical connection. The sound of a fresh row
came from the depths of the house as Chrissie objected to comments still being
made by Toby, and Xander sighed and disentangled himself. “We have to move back to
the motel. I refuse to be the cause of
even more upset here.” “Before we leave, Xander,
promise you’ll let me remove his tongue via his arse.” “Hardly low profile.” “Let’s make an exception,
eh? I’d even give up heaven for the
pleasure of dismantling his ribcage with a…” “Whoa, whoa, enough. I want to be able to keep the food down when
you finally get it.” Spike shut up, took the
hint, at long last got into the car, and Xander cringed at the squealing of
tyres as Spike drove away as only Spike could. Seconds later Xander felt
… After dinner Xander grit
his teeth when Spike, having noticed the boy drooling over it on several
occasions, offered to take Toby out for a spin in the Mustang. Xander knew it was to give him what might
well be the last chance to talk to Chrissie about “Don’t let her talk you
round,” Spike told Xander firmly before he left. “I’ll do what I think
best.” “Every decision is yours,
eh?” “About this, yes, you
know that.” Spike looked at Xander in
contemptuous disapproval before starting to walk toward the car and waiting
teenager. It was only seconds before
Xander called him to a halt and hurried over, throwing his arms around him in a
hug. “What the…?” “I may never get another
chance to freak out Toby,” Xander explained quietly as he nuzzled Spike’s neck
and sniggered. “You have to see his
face.” Spike smiled wickedly and
hugged Xander back. “Now, Love, you’re making
him jealous,” Spike said, perfectly audibly.
“You know he’s only so difficult ‘cause he fancies me.” With a deep, deep sigh,
Xander nodded and made a show of reluctantly letting the vampire go. He glared at Toby, who was in turn staring
with wide-eyed horror at Spike. “Hey, you,” Xander
snapped. “Start groping Spike and you’ll
have more than the spirits to be scared of. Jaw flapping to
accommodate words that wouldn’t come, Toby shook his head frantically from side
to side, then it was back to staring at Spike as he approached and aimed the
remote at the car, unlocking the doors. “In you get, Pet. I promise I’ll be gentle with you.” The boy’s eyes flicked from Spike to car to
Spike to car, and he evidently decided the Mustang was worth the risk, getting
into the passenger’s side and sitting squashed against the door. “Ready for his emergency exit,” Spike laughed
as he turned back to Xander and, receiving a warm, open, connecting smile in return, abruptly wanted to abandon his plans to
terrorise the boy with his particular brand of driving skills and stay here,
close to Xander, giving him peace and protection. The strength of his feelings caught him by
surprise, and maybe some of this, any of it, showed on his face because Xander
looked at him curiously before holding up a hand in a farewell gesture and
backing toward the house. Perturbed and confused,
Spike climbed in beside Toby, slapping away the stocky hand that was prodding
at buttons on the inactive stereo. “Fuck off,” came the
predictable response. “You want me to
tell my mom you been touching me?” Toby asked with an ugly grin as he turned
his attention back to the player. Spike snatched up the
boy’s wrist and put on a little pressure, causing a gasp and a whimper. “You can tell Mom anything you damn-well like,” Spike
told him, eyes flickering to gold and back in a second, chuckling at the fear
that transformed Toby’s face. “Whether
she believes you is a whole other matter.” Xander listened for the
screech of burning rubber as the car took off – possibly quite literally – and
there may have been a hint of maniacal laughter in there too but, hey, Spike
could make his own fun. … By the time an
exceptionally smug Spike and a pale-faced Toby returned it was obvious that the
evening had been tense and traumatic for both Xander and Chrissie. “You look shattered,
mate,” came involuntarily from Spike’s mouth as he laid worried eyes on his
charge. No way they were moving out
tonight. “Want to go up?” “I’m okay. Just a while longer.” “C’mon, Xander. You need a break.” “I’m fine,” but the tone
of Xander’s voice made it plain he wasn’t. Spike treated them to one
of his exasperated sighs, and Chrissie gave him a brief look of… Spike couldn’t quite define it. She seemed torn between highly grateful and
seethingly resentful for the interruption. “You understand that he
needs his rest, don’t you?” Spike said pointedly, and Chrissie was too polite
to do anything other than nod and offer bedtime drinks, which Spike refused on
both their behalves, wanting to get Xander to their room and undisturbed as
soon as possible. Spike gently persuaded an
almost-too-tired-to-protest Xander to his feet, and guided him to and up the
stairs with a hand on the small of his back, a hand that felt suspiciously
caring. “Is he gonna die?” Toby
asked with undisguised fascination as they passed. “What?” Xander asked,
bemused. “You never know. Best keep out of the way.” Toby – reluctantly – kept
out of the way. Once they were alone
Xander shrugged the hand away and turned on Spike, obviously unhappy. “What?” “I’m not about to pass out, not this time.” “Good.” “So will you stop
treating me as if I’m going to break?” “I’m concerned, that’s
all.” “I know you have to get
me wherever we’re going in one piece, but I can look out for myself, Spike, I’m
certainly old enough to choose my own bedtime.
I don’t need anyone to nanny me, especially you.” “Oh. Offended now.
Why especially me?” “Because I know how false
it is. And why is it offensive for me to
be realistic about that?” “Why is it false?” “Oh, please.” “No, spell it out.” “It’s obvious, isn’t
it? You’re…Spike.” “Yeah. This Spike, not Sunnydale Spike. I’m a changed man, Xander, and you know
it. You can’t go through what I’ve been
through…” “Let’s forget it,
huh? I don’t want to fight, I just want
to hit the sack.” “’Cause you’re tired, I
could see that, it’s why…” Xander glared and Spike
scowled. And Xander gritted his teeth
and smiled. None of the warm, open,
connecting now. “Okay. Thank you for your concern.” “Now you’re taking the
piss.” “I am. But it may get me into bed.” Spike stalked over and
Xander took a wary step back, yanked forward again by his shirt front before
Spike began to undo buttons. “Excuse me?” Xander said
pointedly. “Being nanny,” Spike
grinned. Thoughts of the Darling’s
overprotective Nana in Peter Pan filled Xander’s thoughts and he gave in to an
irresistible chuckle as he nudged the hands away, continuing with the buttons
himself. “Want to explain why Toby
thought I was going to die?” “I said that what you do
could kill you at any time.” “Why did you tell him
that?” “He thought you were some
interfering git, in it for gain. I just
wanted to shock a little respect into the moronic twat.” “I’m such a hero,” Xander
laughed. “Do I finally get top billing?” Spike smiled and
nonchalantly stripped off his own clothes, sliding into the bed and making it
plain he was sharing with Xander tonight from the offset. Xander thought about that as he undressed
down to t and boxers, coming to the conclusion that the demon in his bed
allowing him to sleep and nothing more
was actually a better prospect than starting the night alone and joining Spike
on the mattress later. When Xander might
possibly have had a few fraught hours and he was desperate enough for…things…to
happen. He thought about going to
wash and shave, but Spike was right about that: why bother? And he didn’t want it to seem as if he was
making the effort for the vampire sharing his bed. Without so much as a look at Spike, Xander
got in alongside him, feeling the last of the more persistent spirits leave. “Quiet,” came the usual
murmur. “Going to tell me?” “Tell you?” “Today, tonight.” “I’ll tell you whatever
you need to know tomorrow, ‘kay?” “Maybe you’ll sleep
better…” “You’re doing
enough. The quiet’s enough.” “I know you’re troubled,
I can see it.” “Tomorrow, Spike.” “I thought I was here to
help. What did you say in the car? You need someone to lean on?” “I appreciate the offer
of support but…” “You’re not going to take
it.” “We will talk. I promise.” Xander moved onto his
side, facing away from Spike; before he had a chance to relax Spike was there,
curling into him and moulding to his form, rubbing his face in Xander’s hair
and running an arm around his waist.
Forget any requisite protestations, Xander wanted the contact and didn’t
care that this was Spike, especially when the vampire was such an out-and-out
cuddler – or was that coddler? – probably more attentive in this respect than
any lover Xander had ever known, and how ridiculous was that? Xander half-shrugged Spike off, just to feel
him re-attach. “Talk to me,” Spike
whispered, the pitch and situation bringing words that were far removed from
work to Xander’s mind, and he giggled softly to himself at the thought of
Spike’s reaction if they were aired.
“I’m serious,” Spike insisted, naturally misunderstanding the humour. “I want to help you.” “Concentrate on what
you’re here to do, I’ll tell you when I need help.” “Xander…” “Your gig is keeping me safe,” Xander reminded him, snuggling back and feeling the hold on him tighten. “Here I am, safe Xander. Congratulations extended to the bodyguard. Mr Convenience is still on the planet.”
|
|
Chapter 8 Taking Chances
Xander woke in the night,
dopily suspicious at why until the fresh, raucous burst of voices brutally drew
his attention to the lack of Spike.
Sitting up sharply he gazed around, blinking hard into the room’s
darkness and finally making out the shape of the vampire against the moonlit
window. “What’s wrong?” he asked
hoarsely, throat dry from sleep. “Nothing. Get your head down.” Xander groped out to his
side and switched the bedside lamp on. “Can’t. The voices are…bad.” “Again?” Spike turned back to study Xander. “Why?” “Maybe just the strain of
last night. Maybe…I don’t know.” Spike immediately
returned to the bed, sitting on the edge. “Better?” Xander moved a little
closer, eyelid instantly beginning to droop. “Yeah,” and he slumped
back down, not noticing that, with a little help from a carefully placed hand,
he’d left the covers behind. Not admirable but
effective, Spike acknowledged: he’d wanted Xander to wake up, had even hoped
that he’d wake up horny but wasn’t sure how long it took the individual human
body to form habits. Two nights, two
orgasms, all it took for a demon to come to expect. Or possibly expect to come. Spike swivelled and stretched out on the bed
beside Xander, knowing this was taking quite a chance, that Xander hadn’t really been
in control the past two times they’d…what?
Barely mutual masturbation, more like masturbating using another
person. But it was sex, and any sex was… “Good enough,” Spike
accepted, already half-hard at the thought. “Mmm?” “Nothing, Pet.” “Mmm.” “Let Spike look after
you.” “Mmm.” Consent enough for a
souled vampire who should know better; Spike ghosted his fingertips over the
back of Xander’s forearm, feeling the soft hairs brush aside, feeling the heat,
and growing harder with the sensations.
Better if Xander wasn’t too aware to start with: Spike started to reach
for the lamp, but it was so tempting, the opportunity to make this…real. Xander was halfway to
sleep when his hands were taken and led to a new resting place above his
head. Okay. Three-quarters to
sleep and his t-shirt was slid up his body and there was nuzzling. Nuzzling? Back to halfway, ‘cause… A cool tongue flicked over his nipple and
although his body perked up with immediate interest, his mind freaked.
Maybe he’d got the whole way to sleep and this was the oddest dream
although how odd would it be after the last couple of nights when he and
Spike…he and Spike…he and… “Spike!” Xander protested
as he jerked awake from the joint sensations of the vampire’s mouth sucking
hard at his nipple, and a hand teasing the skin beneath the waistband of his
boxers. “Spike,” a warning as he attempted to shove the vampire away. “Don’t have to be
strictly lights out, do we?” Spike asked as he caught Xander’s wrists and playfully
restrained him. “Tell me you don’t want
to see what we look like when…” “No, I don’t, and you
don’t, and… Fuck, Spike, will you…” A determined struggle and
Spike abruptly realised the playfully was only applying to him, quickly
releasing Xander and having his attempt to revert to calming touches struck
forcefully aside. Xander scrambled off
the bed and to the far side of the room, hands slapping over his ears in a
reflex action when confronted by the noise. “Xander, come back here.” “This is not gonna
happen, this is…it’s…this is not gonna happen.
This— Shut the fuck up!” was
hissed in desperation. “Xander…” Xander scrambled back to
kneel beside Spike’s feet, within the Spike zone but as far out of range of
those persuasive hands as possible. “Don’t do this to me,
please, just let me have some quiet.” Spike stared appraisingly
and regretfully accepted, yes, bad move.
He kept forgetting how vulnerable Xander was in these moments, and he
kept forgetting how his own conscience was affected by that vulnerability. “I wanted us to feel
good. Like before. But better.” “But that… And this…
Oh, God. Before… It was like you said, about the relief from
tension? Why am I repeating back to you
something that was only meant to humour me in the first place?” Spike shrugged, face grim with unconcealed
disappointment. “See,” Xander continued
stiltedly, “this would be…sex, the other…wasn’t? No, that’s not right. But it is.” “It wasn’t sex? Fine,” Spike said sourly. “Glad we’ve sorted that out.” “Spike, I don’t mean…” “Don’t worry, I said
fine, I meant fine, I understand perfectly.
You’re all the bloody same, aren’t you?” he finished with a sneer. “Understand what?” Xander
asked vacantly. “Who’s the same?” Spike turned, punched the
pillow unnecessarily viciously a few times, then dropped onto it. “Should’ve expected it,
I’m just here to be used.” “No!” Xander denied the
accusation instantly, horrified that what he’d suspected about himself might
actually be true. But no. The real
truth emerged without hours of angst-ridden introspection. “What happened before wasn’t using you. It was needing
you.” No movement from the rigid back
facing him, and Xander crawled up the bed, warily putting a hand on Spike’s
shoulder. “Needing you. That’s scarier than a fuck, Spike. It’s so…intimate. I’m not good at that.” “I don’t care if you do
use me,” Spike grouched. “Seeing as it’s
in a good cause.” “And we’re not all the same.” “Oh, sure.” “Spike… I am really grateful for the peace that you’ve
brought me, and…and… I kinda like this
guy. I’ve had the chance to get to know
you a little and…” The pressure from his hand increased momentarily. “It’s not always easy, but you, me, there’s
familiarity, and the comfort runs both ways, and we’re getting on okay, and you
shouldn’t be able to torture this
outta me but I like you. And I can’t…I
can’t afford to like you any better.”
Spike’s interest was most definitely piqued; he began to turn his head
to see Xander but a heavy hand kept him in place. “Can’t say this stuff if you look at
me.” Spike nodded beneath Xander’s hand
and Xander felt him stop pushing. “The
peace is enough incentive for me to get…attached…to you. The rest…
Can’t happen, I can’t cope with any kind of emotional crash when you're
gone.” “That’s…honest.” “I have to be. Fuck knows, I don’t want to be. But I’m not
using you, Spike. If I took advantage before
I’m sorry for that, but I’m not using you.” The hand disappeared and
Spike took that as a sign he could roll back, which he did without hesitation,
staring in wonder at a Xander who couldn’t meet his eyes. “I think,” Spike
admitted, guilty conscience outweighing his better judgement, “that I started
it. The first time.” “No, I practically leapt
on you.” Spike couldn’t disguise the
smirk; Xander flicked a glance and away.
“I did,” Xander repeated, flushed with embarrassment. “There’s always a chance
that we leapt at each other.” “See, this is why it’s
all wrong. You, nice, considerate,
and…wrong. Wrong, wrong, wrong.” “I have no excuses other
than being a bad, horny demon who may not have coveted your arse since
Sunnydale but has been doing his best to make up for that since we got
here.” Xander’s jaw dropped in
astonishment. “There. That should piss you off enough to stop you liking me for a few hours.” “Is…is…is that true?” “Might be.” “That’s not true.” “Get your kit off and
let’s find out.” Xander gave a short,
insecure laugh. “That’s not true,” he
insisted. “I am a bad, horny
demon.” “But the rest is about heat
of the moment, not coveting…coveting…” “Your arse? Very nice arse it is too.” Spike’s laughter at
Xander’s stricken expression gave him away, and although Xander tried to
appreciate the well-meant if inapt teasing, the main topic of the conversation
wasn’t going to be laughed off. “Tell me you believe
me. About using – not using you. I’ll feel
really bad if you think I did that.” Spike’s smile became
indulgent. “Bloody soft nowadays,
aren’t you?” Xander waited, and
eventually Spike sighed. “I was there, I
know how little thought was involved.
Not using.” Xander slumped in relief
and let himself be manoeuvred into a nice, comfy, sleep-friendly position, his back
to Spike as he always seemed to prefer, Spike throwing a grounding arm over him
but sensibly choosing not to get any closer on this occasion. “I promise I won’t…” “Oi, none of that. Thought we’d already been there.” “Living in hope,” Xander
recalled. “For a demon without the
necessary physiology, you’re so full of shit.” “Hmm, sounds as if you
like me. Like me much more and I’ll have
to start watching for a stake in your hand.” “Hey… C’mere.” Spike didn’t need to be
asked twice. Once again Xander had
caught him by surprise and Spike was delighted at that; he shuffled as close to
the man as he could possibly get and, a few positioning nudges later, Xander
was being undeniably cuddled. “Are you delirious, Pet?” “Must be.” “Knew there had to be a
reasonable explanation.” Xander tipped back his
head in encouragement and the nuzzling started, swiftly followed by the
sensation of Spike hardening against him. “Spike…” “Ignore it. Go to sleep,” Spike purred into Xander’s
hair. “When you wake up you’ll see this
was all a horrible nightmare.” “You’ll be here?” “Oh, yeah. This bad dream ain’t going anywhere.” … A much nicer day as
Xander made his way back to the pool. He
was fairly sure he shouldn’t be doing this and absolutely certain that Spike
would be furious when he woke up and guessed why Xander had sneaked off and where
to. But this was about peace of mind:
Xander had to know he’d got the facts absolutely straight, whether or not he
ever passed them on. When he’d left the area
the previous afternoon he’d have sworn it would take the company of an armed
troop to get him back, but the sun was bright and the night’s almost-gales had
dropped to a breeze, there were insects buzzing and birds singing, and the
ominous atmosphere had completely evaporated.
Here and now, Xander couldn’t recall exactly what had spooked him. The day had been grey, bleak, a fitting
reflection of this place’s tragedy; the wind had been so fierce it could easily
have caused any noises he’d interpreted as sinister, and as he was naturally
hypersensitive after sharing Wayne’s last moments, there was every chance he’d
imagined the threat. Today the pool looked
beautiful, felt welcoming, and once again Xander’s first impressions were of
the fun that … Disturbed by an
intermittent thunking sound from outside, Spike stirred, groped for Xander,
groaned to himself when it became clear that the man had been gone for a while. “Too much to hope that
you’re safely downstairs indulging me in a nice fry-up,” Spike murmured to the
absentee. Nah. Xander was always going to be Xander. Stretching, scowling at that bloody
irritating noise, Spike thought about more sleep, thought about the fact that
there’d miraculously be a cooler of blood in the trunk of the Mustang, thought
about a shower and a nice, leisurely wank ‘cause there was still plenty of
pent-up lust remaining from the episode in the night. And on the subject of
pent-up lust… Xander couldn’t afford to
like him any better, eh? “Have to work on that.” Something else to work
on: his hand wrapped around his cock and a full sharp tugs brought it to a full
erection, and in his mind he tried out the idea of this being Xander’s hand,
involuntarily thrusting into his fist at the thought, and if that was Xander’s touch,
how would his mouth… Ohhh, yeah, just like that, Baby, just. Like.
That. A moment’s fantasy of
Xander sucking his cock and glancing appealing up at him and Spike was
snatching his hand away and cursing. Two lust-darkened eyes had looked to him
for approval and that was wrong, it was…
Fuck! How could it be a betrayal of this
Xander? Fuck, fuck, fuck! Fucking bloody
stupid sodding soul, all your fault. “Sure.” He grumpily rose,
grumpily showered, grumpily dressed, grumpily stomped down the stairs and hoped
– grumpily – that Xander was somewhere in the proximity so he could take this
out on him, however unfair or irrational that was. Alone in the house, it
turned out, and that suited him if he couldn’t have Xander. Company.
Couldn’t have Xander’s company; he rolled his eyes. He didn’t want to tolerate Chrissie’s
miserable face or desperate prattling, and he’d certainly had enough of the
not-so-incredible hulk with his dull wits and sheer ugliness of spirit and… Sheer ugliness. Spike picked up one of the photos that
Chrissie had evidently been sharing with Xander when Spike’d taken Toby for a
bowel-loosening lesson in eighty-miles-per-hour handbrake turns. That was the husband, Spike supposed – very
average – and that was the late, lamented “‘When I was a child, I
spake as a child, I understood as a child, I thought as a child’,” Spike quoted
to himself. “‘But when I became a man, I
put away childish things.’ And
then…” Spike was already running back to
the kitchen. “…naturally…” Peering out into the yard to see a pile of
freshly chopped wood, no boy, and no axe.
“…became a fratricidal psychopath.” Racing upstairs to grab
the mildly sun-proofing duster, Spike mentally rushed through his pre-planned
rescue route, furious at himself for not having serious doubts about Toby
earlier and questioning the whereabouts of the nasty suspicious nature that had
served him so well for years. … “Why are you crying?” The words jerked Xander
from the past to the present and he was back sitting on the bench by the pool;
his hands instantly came up to wipe the tears from his face. “It’s not me,” he
explained. “Is it…” “ “Why?” Xander looked
incredulously at Toby. The axe over one
shoulder and the thick branches under the opposite arm might have made another
man hold his tongue, but not Xander. “Because this part of his
existence was taken from him in horrific circumstances. You know what I’m talking about, Toby.” “He – he drowned,” Toby
insisted. “Just drowned.” “You know the truth.” “It was an accident.” Xander flinched as “It’s okay, “Is he talking to
you? Is he? What’s he saying? He’s a liar, what’s he saying?” “That it was no acc…” “It was, it was a fucking
accident!” “No,” Xander said
firmly. “Holding a boy’s head under
until he passes out could be an accident if it was a badly timed joke. Keeping
him under with a foot on his back…” “That isn’t how it
happened!” “Your brother told
me. Showed me.” “I’ll fucking show you.” Toby threw down the wood
and began to march around the perimeter of the pool; Xander was immediately on
his feet, hands held up in a placating gesture. “Toby, you don’t want to
hurt me.” “I’ll fucking show you.” The words might have been
the same but they were full of insecurity, and the boy slowed in his approach. “You don’t need to hurt
me. I’m not going to tell your mom.” “You— I don’t believe you.” As Toby took an
aggressive step forward, swinging the axe into a two handed grip, Xander took a
step back. “It isn’t up to me to
tell her. But someone needs to,” Xander
continued pointedly. “So you can all be
helped. So you can get over this.” “No,” the boy said
weakly, a tremor in his voice. “Yes. It can be better.” It seemed an inordinately long time before
the axe swung back down, the handle sliding through Toby’s fist until the head
rested on the floor. Xander smiled
sympathetically as he saw the child that Toby still was despite his size: tears
filling the pale eyes, jaw wobbling with the effort of holding back harrowing
emotions. “You want to come talk to
me?” Xander returned to the bench and
sat, leaving plenty of room for company. “No,” was sniffed. “Okay.” Xander forced himself to
look at the pool, wanting to show trust, hoping that Toby would respond
favourably to it and trying not to let himself grow edgy when the boy fell
broodingly silent and unmoving when the sniffles stopped. A couple of shuffled steps and Toby cleared
his throat. “Where’s Spike?” Xander shrugged. “Probably still sleep.” “He said…he said that
what you do is really dangerous.” “Yeah,” Xander grinned,
“about that…” “You could die from this
at any time.” “See, what Spike actually
meant…” “If they found you in the
pool where Fuck, fuck, fuck, stay calm, stay calm.
Stay. Calm. Think.
Thinkthinkthink. “See, that’s so typical
of Spike, making out that I’m the
brave one, when… I have to tell you,
he’s incredibly brave, knowing what the…umm…secondary effect would do to him.” “Secondary effect?” “Didn’t he tell you? Probably didn’t want to scare you. If I died through this the psychic energy
would be released and anyone within…I d’know…”
Xander looked around, picking out a distinctive tree about five-hundred
yards away. “Anyone between here and
that tree with the curling branch, they’d suffer far more than me. Imagine dying from going crazy with psychic
energy. You’re a bright kid, Toby, I
know you’ve been paying attention, you understand what I’m talking about.” Xander dropped his voice, trying to sound as
chilling as possible. “I’ve seen videos
of mediums dying from stress and the people around them tearing out their own
hearts to end the madness.” “That…that…that isn’t
possible.” “Oh, yeah. I’ve seen people using fingers and sticks and
pens in their ears, up their noses, trying to kill off their brain to stop
it. That’s how I lost my eye, did you
know that? Got too close to an imploding
medium and poked it out trying to get at my brain. Luckily I was saved but… God, that’d be terrible if it happened now
and you… We won’t think about it, ‘cause
even an Olympic athlete couldn’t get out of range in time.” “Okay. Okay,” whispered the boy, thinking it over,
and Xander sent up a silent prayer that he was as gullible and stupid as he
appeared. “Okay. Uh…Xan…Xander… How are you feeling now?” “Umm… Little shaky actually. Hey, don’t suppose you could go back to the
house and let Spike know? That’d keep
you both safe in case…” Xander graphically mimed
his head exploding. “You’ll tell him, won’t
you?” Xander jumped as Toby
shouted. “Once he knows it will all be
over, this will be over.” “I’m not going to tell
him anything,” Xander insisted calmly.
“My work is nothing to do with him, this is entirely private.” “It would be
better…better… Spike said you could die
from this.” “I’m not going to die,
Toby, I’m going to help you.” “There’s only one way you
can help me. Shut up. You have to shut up.” Reminiscent of many
desperate times in the past, this one happened so fast it seemed to be over the
moment it started: Toby covers the distance between them at unlikely speed,
Xander’s head turns to see the boy looming over him with the axe raised,
starting to fall. Before it can strike a
hand shoots out from the trees and snatches the weapon away, followed by a
booted foot that sends Toby sprawling.
At the same moment Xander is grabbed by the collar and yanked over the
bench, caught around the waist by a strong arm and tugged out of the light into
the dense woodland. Back in real time, Xander
struggled against the rigid hold. “Spike, you can… Let me go, will you? I have to see if he’s okay.” The grip tightened and
Spike grabbed a fistful of Xander’s hair to hold his head still. “Tell you what,” Spike
ground out furiously into Xander’s ear, “how about you shut the fuck up until
we’re back at the house? That way I
won’t need to punch you out and carry you.” The sheer level of barely
contained rage in the vampire’s voice, in his tense body, was enough to make
Xander comply, and he let himself be dragged through the trees by his
grim-faced companion. … “You knew, didn’t you?”
Spike demanded amidst the seething and pacing and last wisps of sun-struck
vampire smoke. “I can’t believe you knew
how that kid died and yet you still went back out there, took such a pointless
risk.” With a growl he headed
Xander off, stopping him from leaving the living room for the fifth time. Xander took a deep breath, battling to retain
his temper because one of them had to. “I didn’t see it as a
risk, and…it was my decision.” “Fucking idiotic one and
you’re too up yourself to admit it. That
demented thug…” “He’s just a boy.” “He has two inches on you
and he’s built like a brick shit-house.” “He’s sixteen.” “He’s already killed
once!” “No, listen…” “You bloody listen for
once: you shouldn’t be taking chances.
And before you start the bleeding heart defence, remember he got rid of
someone who was an inconvenience to him.
You, Xander, are more than an inconvenience, you’re a threat.” “Spike…” “He was about to split
your skull open with an axe! If I hadn’t
been there…” “But you were. Doing your job. Great, finished, end of conversation. And, Spike…” “Finished? Excellent.
Get your gear together, we’re leaving.” “I’m not going anywhere,
not yet. I need a chance to speak to
him, to help him. To help both of them
start healing.” “I don’t…! You know you’re going to get yourself
killed.” “Yeah, yeah, yeah,”
Xander dismissed Spike with casual wave.
“Grew up on a Hellmouth, insert your own horror story.” Once again Spike barred
Xander’s exit, but this time Xander caught Spike off his guard with a
double-handed shove, clearing the doorway and sprinting up the stairs, shucking
his coat and throwing it across the bed.
Doing his best to ignore Spike’s determined pursuit, Xander crossed to
the window and looked for Toby. Spike
slammed the door behind them and leaned against it. “Tell her now. Phone Chrissie and tell her, then we can get
out of this dump. Let her help him, he’s her responsibility.” Xander swivelled around,
staring at Spike in shock. “I can’t tell her the
truth.” “Then what was the
fucking point?” Spike demanded furiously. “This was about bringing
her a little closure. That isn’t up to
me now, it isn’t up to you either,” Xander told him pointedly, “so you don’t
say a word, okay?” “You don’t think she
deserves to know?” “I don’t think it’s up to
us to tell her. I’ll talk to Toby,
persuade him…” “Not to slit your
throat. That’s if you get the chance
before he has the knife in.” “You don’t know what
you’re talking about.” “You can’t put yourself
at risk, you’re too important for that.” “Ah, fucking hell,
Spike! You know how much this appals
me? You sucking up out of expediency. At least once I could have relied on you to
be a truly honest pain in the ass.” “We’re talking
inter-dimensional war, Harris. The kind
of conflict that would have made sodding Glory turn and run.” “What is this? Your apocalypse is bigger than my apocalypse?” “We take them one by one,
and this…” “I can’t listen to you,
it’s like being trapped in a room with Angel Mini-me.” “You take that back!”
Spike ordered as he strode angrily across the room, only coming to a halt when
Xander, literally, had him at arm’s length. “Or what? You’ll hit me again? Or maybe just hit on me. I think I need time
out to figure which of those disgusts me more.” Xander dropped the arm
that was keeping Spike at bay, picked up and pulled on his coat, and headed for
the door. Spike watched with growing
exasperation. “You can’t…” “Yes, I can. More to the point, I am.” “Wait a while, I’ll come
with you.” “I’m sick of the sound of
your voice, I need to be away from you.” “Xander…” “I can look after
myself.” “Oh, yeah, I remember
that quite clearly from the past, you manfully taking the battle to wherever
you’d been knocked on your arse.” “If it turns out that
you’re right about Toby, and he catches up with me… I’m sure you can find yourself another
freak,” Xander told Spike coldly. Last check that he had
his wallet and keys and Xander was out of the door; Spike started to follow for
all of two steps, then he waved dismissively after the young man, morphing the
gesture into an aggressive bowman’s salute. All it took was the sound
of the Mustang revving up and roaring away for Spike’s feelings to recoil and
hit him in the gut. That was Xander gone
who knows where, maybe even back home, and Spike was left with an incomplete
mission, no medium, the tedious weight of Angel’s expectations and a whole shit-load
of explaining unless he turned this around. He’d have to be reasonable and he hated that, and why
was he in the wrong here anyway? It
wasn’t usually a bad thing to get mad that someone in your care was deliberately
putting themselves in danger. It was
pretty much expected that you’d want to keep your charge alive in Spike’s
particular line of work. But now,
through no fault of his own, he’d have to be reasonable. Whatever had happened,
was happening, was due to happen, it wasn’t going to be happening under this
roof, Spike knew that much. Stuffing
their belongings into the two pieces of luggage, Spike paused to rifle through
Xander’s to make sure his phone wasn’t here.
No, and that was a good thing, at least he could contact the infuriating
man at some point. The stereo was gone
too and it irritated him beyond reason
that he couldn’t figure out where Xander had stashed that. It felt like he had hours
to wait for dusk, but in truth it was barely one, and when he was finally able
to throw the bags over his shoulders and leave he felt positively
exultant. No-one to say goodbye to,
Chrissie still at work and the lout having laid very low since trying to
permanently part Xander’s hair, and Spike considered both of them fortunate not
to have got in his way. On the side of
good, maybe, but he was more than ready to tell her to fuck off for taking
advantage of Xander’s generosity, and Toby…
Spike trudged along the road, unmindful of the distance he had to walk
to the motel, passing the time in blissful contemplation of how many ways he
could torture the boy to an excruciating death. … “Xander…” “Fuck off.” “I’m at—” Spike looked at his phone and couldn’t
contain the growl. He stabbed the number
in for a second time and waited for it to be answered. “Don’t you fucking dare hang up on me again!” Spike felt Xander consider that. “What do you want?”
Xander sighed, displaying more sense than annoyance. “I’m at the motel, your
stuff is here. We’re leaving this place
tomorrow but for tonight it’s room six again.
I’ll leave the door open for you.” “Ah, great. You couldn’t have booked me my own room?” “D’know, Pet.
How are the voices?” There was a protracted
pause. “See you later.” … Of course Spike was awake
when Xander arrived, but the moment he heard the car he stopped his prowling
and dropped onto a bed, ready to mimic sleep and totally ignore the man, or
oh-so conveniently stir and indulgently welcome Xander back to his
peace-inducing embrace, whichever would have the best impact. Stumbling footsteps and
Spike was mentally rolling his closed eyes, listening as the door opened with
barely a sound; the slightest creak as Xander leant against the doorframe. “Spike?” came a hoarse
whisper. It was all about figuring
out whether Xander wanted him awake or asleep, and then he’d do the opposite
and— An automatic scenting breath, and
Spike leapt up and crossed the room in a blur, switching on the nearest lamp
and easing Xander into its light with careful hands. “What happened?” “Couple of guys,” Xander
said as Spike led him to the bed and sat him on the edge, rushing to turn on
another light so he could see the damage to the man’s face more clearly: an
amount of bruising, few cuts and grazes, nothing that needed a major repair
job. “But why? Why you?” He looked down in
surprise as Xander’s hands fisted in the loose edges of his shirt and pulled
him closer. Spike didn’t bother to
resist, and he would have been lying if he’d said he wasn’t intrigued by the
move, doubting that, after their earlier altercation, he’d have witnessed it
from a completely sober Xander. Xander kept the pressure
up until the only place for Spike to go was on his lap, so he straddled
Xander’s thighs and sat, let the dark head lean against him. Only then did Xander let out a coarse breath
and fall still. “Tell me,” Spike
encouraged, tone softly persuasive. “What’s to tell? I’m such an idiot, should have known he…” “Was this Toby’s doing?” “Yeah. Could say he loaded the gun and let someone
else pull the trigger.” “Oh, fuck, you don’t
mean…” Spike started to feel
over Xander’s body for more damage, particularly where the lower half of
Xander’s t was smeared with blood. “Figure of speech.” Spike would have been aware of the stink of a
fired weapon clinging to Xander the second he’d entered the room. And he should have recognised from the stain
patterns that the t had simply been used to wipe the blood from Xander’s
face. He shook his head at his alarm,
letting the sudden anxiety go as, once again, Xander settled against him. “You warned me. You warned me and I was too busy
being…being…” “A right wanker?” “Ah, shit, that’ll
do. I didn’t listen and if I had I
wouldn’t be sitting here…” “With a lap full of
vampire.” “…feeling sorry for
myself.” “Sore?” “Yes. Needlessly.
Idiot, I’m an idiot.” “If you’re sore, shall
I…?” “Don’t go. Please.
And you can tell me I’m pathetic for wanting to be this close, to
feel—” Xander cut off briskly and
pressed his face into Spike’s chest, heedless of the mess he was making of
Spike’s clothes. “Safe?” Spike suggested,
hands running soothingly over the human’s taut neck muscles, his tense
shoulders. The shoulders shrugged, and
Spike’s fingers came to Xander’s chin, tilted the troubled face up, and his
mouth settled over the worst cut, the one above Xander’s right eyebrow. He felt the moment when Xander was bound to
throw him off come and go, and he worked his tongue over and into the ragged
cut, cleaning the wound and making the most of the tiny amount of blood that
flowed. “Do I taste good?” Xander
asked amid shivers that exposed his shock at the events of the past twelve
hours; despite the circumstances Spike suspected there was a smile behind the
words. “Mmm. Human – and you just about count as that –
delicious. Distinct aftertaste of
decidedly cheap booze, but we’ve all been there, eh?” Spike’s mouth gently
skittered over Xander’s flesh, seeking out any more blood, licking up and
spitting out the last specks of dirt that had clung to Xander’s face when he’d
hit the floor during the fight. Lastly
the vampire took extraordinary care over the graze at the outer corner of
Xander’s left eyelids, his ministrations more like the tenderest kisses than
first aid. As brazen as Xander was
about the disfigurement, two minutes into the treatment Spike felt hands
crawling up his back, felt the anxious tremor in them, and once again he let
himself be manoeuvred closer, this time into a bonafide hug. His fingers combed through Xander’s tangled
hair, unravelling knots until the passage was snag-free, and he kept stroking,
stroking and fussing, with a reassuring touch that Xander began to press into. “Stop fighting me,
Xander,” Spike eventually dipped his head to whisper. “Let me keep you safe.” Xander groaned in what
sounded like…disappointment?
Embarrassment? “Is it wrong for a man to
want that?” Spike’s fingertips played
with the softest hair at the nape of Xander’s neck. “Aren’t you used to being
weaker than the people around you?” “Great, thanks.” “It was an
observation. An observation doesn’t
immediately become an insult because it comes from me.” Pause. Sigh. “Okay, yes, the people
around me in the past were stronger, but…
I’ve still never felt safe.” Stroking, combing,
stroking. “I can help you with
that. If you like you can pretend it’s
just because of being needed for this whatnot we’ve got ourselves into.” “I’m needed for this
mission so I have to be protected?” “That’s it. I want to keep you safe.” Spike nuzzled Xander’s temple, virtually
anaesthetising the man with his calming words and actions. “And I will.” “Just…because. Not…the rest.” “That’s right. When the job’s done you can get yourself
kicked into next week or rot in any hell of your choosing for all I care.” “That’s a relief.” Spike chuckled and
fussed. “I used to enjoy it:
being the protector. After a century of
looking after someone it’s sort of…ingrained.” “We all like to feel
needed,” Xander mumbled. “Yes, and if I want to
protect you that doesn’t mean you’re weak, because you’re not, you’re a real
battler, everyone knows it. Brave
too. Foolishly brave at times.” “I’ve always tried. I’ve had to try.” “And there’s no shame to
it. There’s always someone
stronger. We all get to confront that.” Despite his encouraged
lassitude, Xander made himself pull back and look into Spike’s face, seeing a
relaxed expression that he guessed reflected his own. “Would you allow it? Allow yourself to be weaker and need
protection?” “Have done, haven’t
I? Whether it was Dru feeding me when I
was stuck in that sodding wheelchair, or being reliant on the slayer and you
lot for blood when I was first chipped.
Plenty of times. Just a case of
getting on with it.” That reminder and
Xander was waking up, enough to feel bad about the past when he considered the
situation he was now in, with the former bane of his existence vowing to be his
protector. “You’re so predictable,”
Spike smiled. “How about…” His fingers moved in Xander’s hair, circling,
mesmerising. “We forget the past – me
trying to kill you, you letting me starve – and agree to play nicely now. If only to keep you alive long enough to save
the world.” “I wish you’d been there
tonight. Let’s see those bastards take
on a sober guy without a blind side.” “You only have to give me
a nod, Xander, and I’ll skin ‘em alive for you,” Spike offered in a tone that
was usually reserved for words of love. “No, Spike. No reprisals.
Promise me.” “Course, Pet. No reprisals.
Whatever you say.” Xander nodded, accepting
that particularly insincere agreement, and Spike’s mouth crept back to the
damage he’d been diverted from.
Exercising the greatest care he explored the graze beside the withered
eyelids and, after an edgy moment of Xander clasping Spike’s back so hard the
vampire felt the human’s nails sinking into his flesh, Xander began to relax
again. To allow. And soon his entire world had focused to
lick, stroke, lick, stroke.
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