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It’s a moment.
Even as he stands there
holding the paraphernalia of the spell, Xander knows that this is
questionable. Wrong even. But he has to try. This may be wrong but that was certainly not right and he feels
he has to try and put right the wrong.
Story of his life. Story of
Anya’s continuing death. No-one else knows, and if
this works Xander will move somewhere distant and never mention it, or the
result. Arrangements have already been
made for this new life on the off-chance.
If it doesn’t work… Well, he
needs a change. Yes, a new life. He’s been lagging behind in the whole
new-lifeness experience and a change, being as good as a rest, is overdue. He uses the…pink stuff to
draw the outer symbol. He uses
the…yellow stuff to draw the inner. He
knows what they are but it doesn’t come easily; bad enough he has to recite the
mumbo-jumbo. Some anarchic scrap of
wholesome anti-magic doughnut boy manages to rebel and be an obnoxious little
know-nothing for the thousand-and-umpteenth time in his life. It’s worked before, it’s
worth the effort. But he’s alone now and
not sure who he’s making the effort for.
But it happens. Like shit. It happens.
And it’s like the gift that keeps on giving in a totally non-gifty way,
because who would want… Boy, is he losing the plot. His hands are trembling
as he removes the paper from his pocket.
He’s been promised this is simple, and painless unlike the Buffster’s resurrection, something to do with
his ex-fiancée’s sometimes demon status, and the words on the page will do the
trick, and Xander will stop feeling so goddamned fucking bad all the time. Survivor’s guilt. Who’d’ve thought? After everything. A few words and he
carefully places the crystal within the pink.
A few more words and the manky green whatever goes within the
yellow. A drop of his blood, the
spilling of which causes him to flinch, falls on the flattened remains of
Sunnydale. More words and he’s done. Okay. Xander waits impatiently
in the moonlight, uses his flashlight to check his watch, prods the little
button that will confirm the date: one year.
Spot on. The first anniversary of
the – and excuse the hollow laughter – earthquake. The contract, he
remembers suddenly, and it’s brought from his jacket’s inner pocket. It’s unhesitatingly signed, making his
demonically worded yet none the less heartfelt declaration. All Hell does not break
loose – he knows that one and this isn’t it – but there is crashing and
flashing and stinking smoke and a fragile form is revealed as the lightshow
ends. A step forward to greet the
trembling figure but the smoke clears and Xander, who believes himself well
past being shockable, is shocked. “Fucking hell,” come the
first stilted words from a hoarse throat.
“Fucking hell, Harris. What have
you done?” Despite being perplexed
and disorientated and angry and upset, Xander offers Spike the common courtesy
of assisting him to the car. Assisting
because the vampire – yes, still a vampire – is weak and weaving and apparently
so unused to this corporeal form that he’s forgotten how it all works. Left, right, left, right, many more of those
and into the passenger’s seat. Spike sits and
shakes. Cold. A vampire shouldn’t feel cold but logic isn’t
helping. Xander wraps the car rug around
thin shoulders still clad in their going away ensemble and turns up the
heater. Spikes sits and shakes. “Shock,” Xander says
definitely. “You always were a master
of understatement.” “Why you’re shaking.” “Cold.” “That doesn’t make
sense.” “And the rest does?” Spike sits and
shakes. It’s a hot night and Spike is
freezing. “Were you in hell? Was it so hot there that it feels cold here?” “I was…” Spike finds a new shudder and Xander, for the
moment, shuts up. ***** “Tell me about the
spell,” Spike says when he’s ready and not before. Xander does, every detail
he can think of. Spike shakes and
listens, surprisingly quiet, but punctuating Xander’s account with suitably
loud facial expressions reflecting his dismay, disbelief, inappropriate amusement,
and general appalledness. “The crystal is the
symbol of the contract. It glows because
the spell is in force, see?” “Can I…” “You can’t touch it. Only if I give it to you with the express
purpose of terminating the contract without terminating you.” “Terminating me?” “If I destroy the crystal
you go back to where you came from.” That reminder and Spike
shudders. Shudder, shudder,
shudder. When he’s done with the
immediate shuddering, Spike asks to see the contract and Xander is able to hand
that over. Spike skim reads the document
then returns to pertinent passages. “You had this
included? Anyanka had to want to come back.” “I thought, after
Buffy…” Enough said. “She obviously didn’t
want to.” Xander feels entitled to
a mixture of emotions as it sinks in: Anya didn’t want to return to him. His duty is done; no more
bad feelings. She didn’t want him; he’s
used to feeling rejected but still… No. He has to stop fooling himself. Relief. More relief. But Spike instead. “Anya didn’t want to come
back. But you did.” Xander has always had this innate skill for
stating the obvious. “You’ve taken her
place in the contract so…” Xander isn’t
sure how to finish that sentence. “Where does it leave us?” Xander nods. Spike reads.
Xander finally considers his actions and their consequences. No Anya but Spike instead. Who won’t stick around. And Xander Harris has put an unchipped,
possibly unsouled, William the Bloody back on the streets. Nice move, Xander. Unless…
Unless he destroys the crystal.
Kind of a mean trick to play on the most recent guy to save the
world. And where Spike has been, Xander
does not want to know. He gets to keep
the crystal and Spike, and he keeps Spike out of trouble. Yes, that’s so obviously bound to work.
He rolls his eyes at his own stupidity and Spike’s interest is captured. “Magic?” he asks with a
gesture. It takes Xander a long
moment. “Oh! This?
No. Glass.” Xander taps his left eyeball with a
fingernail and Spike cringes.
“Squeamish?” Xander laughs.
“You’re squeamish about this?
That’s priceless.” “No,” Spike responds
quietly, going back to his reading.
“Hardly priceless.” Xander figures that Spike
still has the soul. ***** They drive to the hotel
in silence, Xander sweltering as Spike hikes the heater up to full, but he
can’t object because this is his fault.
The spell, the vampire, the necessity of unnecessary heat is all down to
him so no whingeing. Yet. But he’s going to attempt
being no-whingeing man. Because Spike is
trying to switch on the radio and his hand is shaking so hard he can’t hit the
button. ***** “Do you want to sleep?”
Xander asks when they reach his – their – room. Shake of the head and
Spike’s already found the mini-bar and is in the process of emptying it of its
contents. Xander uses room service and
gets a bottle of JD and a six-pack sent along with some food. Xander’s not expecting
Spike to eat but he goes through a heap of sandwiches like a plague of locust
before hitting the JD. Which appears to
warm him up because the shaking stops.
Xander picks at his food in an un-Xandery way. Troubled.
In a perfectly Xandery way:
post-stupid-action-without-sufficient-thought. Spike is back with the
spell. “You realise you’ve made
yourself responsible for me. Totally
responsible.” “For Anya. It was for Anya.” “For me now.” Xander knows that, even the finely developed
denial techniques of a lifetime on the Hellmouth can’t provide an escape route. “Oh dear, oh dear, oh dear,” Spike taunts,
offering up the smirk that makes Xander thoroughly aware that this is Spike,
and Spike was never synonymous with nice, kind, generous. “What?” “The connection. For the connection you chose sex.” “With Anya,” Xander spelt out.
“The other choices…” Xander
pulled an eloquent face. “With me now. Ready for that?” Xander looks momentarily
petrified before giving a pseudo-casual shrug. “How difficult can it
be? Everyone else seemed to manage it.” Spike looks to Xander for
the anger that has to live behind that comment, but he just seems weary. Defeated even. A year can change a human, and Spike wonders
what the past year has been like for Xander, and if he’ll ever know him well
enough to ask. Or does that reek of a
soul’s sensibilities? He reminds himself
that he’s still a vampire, a demon, and why should he care about knowing Xander
well enough for anything? He decides to stir, see
if he can make Xander hurt, see if he still has the touch. “Did the others dump
you? Move on without you? You always seemed to be the man most likely
to be forgotten.” Xander actually perks up
at this and Spike inwardly curses. “Everyone’s fine, getting
on with their lives. Moving on, sure,
but…” “Is Buffy with Angel?” “No, new life, new guy,
she’s in—” Xander catches the words
before they escape his mouth. “You can tell me, I’m not
about to go chasing after her.” “You’re not?” Spike doesn’t answer, and turns his face away
to deny Xander his expression. “Dawn’s
with her,” Xander continues, just about changing the subject. “ “She happy?” Spike
demands. “Buffy?” “Yeah,” Xander says after
a beat. “Pretty much a normal life. What she needed.” “Good.” And it’s Spike who’s left
hurting; Xander has the touch without even trying. There’s nowhere for Spike to go to get away
from this, so he lies on the far side of the bed with his back to Xander, being
as alone as possible as he soaks up the changes. Buffy’s gone, the past is gone, the old life
is gone, and all he has is the cold, half a bottle of whiskey, and Xander
bloody Harris. It’s a moment. ***** While Spike sleeps Xander
goes over the contract, trying to understand all the clauses he doesn’t
understand and find a way to put an end to this without actually sending Spike
back to the unexplained scary place.
Maybe as Spike does seem to have the soul he can be safely left to his
own devices. But – and fuck only knows
where this comes from – Xander doesn’t like the idea of leaving him alone to
fend for himself, despite Spike being the king of survival. Xander’s been lonely
recently, hence the resurrection of Anya not apparently being the stupidest
idea to top all his other stupid ideas – and he’s sensitive to it. Okay, this is Spike he’s thinking about, but if Spike is all that’s left of the
old life he misses… He decides to stick
with the not wanting Spike to be alone, doing the vampire a favour as opposed
to admitting his own weaknesses. He can’t let down his
guard, because this is Spike. He has to find somewhere
to buy blood. Xander throws another
blanket over the shivering body and stares in wonder. This is Spike. ***** Xander starts to feel his
way into this situation, taking several days to get to know this version of
Spike, which is pretty much the last version of Spike he remembers, but with
the vulnerability Xander has projected onto him. Knowing he’s projecting,
and that Spike will expect to be off-loaded as rapidly as possible, Xander
brings up the subject, tentatively asking the vampire where he’d like to go
now. “You’re hoping I’m going
to fuck off and leave you?” “Not hoping,” Xander
insists, and he almost manages convincing.
“I just thought…” “It’s in the
contract. This togetherness. You’re stuck with me, mate.” “Stuck. Right.
Okay.” Spike is actually lying
but Xander obviously doesn’t know that.
Spike isn’t sure why he wants to stay with Xander of all people but
thinks it’s about familiarity. And
Xander brought him back, intentionally or not. “Did anyone else think of
trying this?” Xander knows what Spike
is asking, and knows who the anyone else is. “After last time? Jeez, no, I’m the only one dumb enough for
that,” he jokes, and Spike looks at him with gratitude for his avoidance,
because no-one cared enough to attempt to magic back the vampire, and they both
know it. Xander brought him back,
and Spike owes him, and maybe there is something to the spell because he
actively wants a little togetherness with Xander. He’s curious. He knows what’s coming – pun, pun, pun – and
he’s curious about the Viking in the sack.
Although Xander won’t be wanting or giving more than what’s essential
for the spell. After being lost for a
year, a year of almost total sensory deprivation, Spike will settle for any
kind of contact, the sooner the better, and he’s happy to lie about the
contract’s contents to get what he wants. But maybe Xander is going
to put an end to this nonsense, not fulfil the spell’s requirements and send
him back to purgatory. The thought makes
him shudder and shudder, freezing again, and he hopes that Xander will notice
and do something about it. Xander notices and does,
without thinking, just his damned niceness kicking in, and he isn’t awkward
about it until after five minutes of hugging his warmth into the cold form and
rubbing chilly limbs, and Spike is no longer shaking and needing but simply
exploiting and enjoying. Xander is about to
apologise again for being
over-familiar, so Spike gets in first with his thanks, and he tries to tell
Xander about where he’s been but it’s too hard, describing nothing, the lack of
everything, but being frighteningly aware of every second of nothing, and
before this hot, generous human can withdraw Spike is pushing back into his
embrace, having genuinely managed to upset himself, and he’s being hugged and
stroked again, and he knows, he knows
he could get used to this. ***** “You’re going to back out?” “No.” “Even if you have to fuck
me?” Xander determinedly
doesn’t give Spike the satisfaction of a moment’s pause for freaking out. “It only has to be the
once, right? The once and you’re safe in
the spell?” Spike scans the contract
and considers adding his own clause. The
soul rebels. “Yeah, once would be
enough.” “How… I mean, for you, would it… Will it…” “Vampire, mate, fuck
anything,” Spike says dismissively. “That’d be by
choice. This isn’t.” Spike stares at Xander,
knowing how uncomfortable it makes him. “Not a problem. I just have to lie back and think of “I thought—” “What?” Spike waves the contract. “You’ve made me the bint here, you get to
fuck me.” “So we can’t…” Xander gives up and waits for his timely
death from embarrassment. “Natural bottom, are
you? Never saw that coming.” Xander hates that smirk and for a moment
fantasises about the crystal smashing beneath the heel of his shoe. “I don’t know what I’m
doing, okay?” he snaps, crossly. “I
don’t want to screw it up, or – or…” The
voice drops away but Spike catches the final words. “Hurt you.” Spike is stunned by
that. Stunned and he tries to cover. “You won’t hurt me. And it’s all pretty basic: the what goes
where. Not too many choices after all.” Xander is…what? Still pissed at Spike? Upset?
Humiliated? Whatever. He starts to leave but comes back very
quickly. “I’m sorry, Spike.” “I bet you are.” “For you, not for me.” “You brought me back.” “And made you have
to… But it’s just once and then the
spell is complete and you’re safe.” Xander cares, Spike
realises, and he’s in shock again. He
lets himself shudder because he knows the effect it has on Xander. Xander is there in a second, holding him. “Cold.” Statement from Xander, not question. “Always,” with an unseen
smile as Spike snuggles in closer. “I’m not sorry for
bringing you back, don’t think that.” At that precise second
the words are entirely true. “If you’d known this
would happen? Not Anya but me?” “I don’t know. I probably wouldn’t have. For a start, I wouldn’t have felt I had any
right.” “Do you want to go
back? Destroy the crystal?” If Spike had breath he’d
be holding it. “I said I wouldn’t. You’re here now.” “Your responsibility.” “Yeah. I hadn’t forgotten.” “Have you thought about
it? Once we’re bonded, that’s it for
life.” “Bonded? When did bonded come into it?” “If I live to be a
thousand, you live to be a thousand.
Even if we’re on opposite sides of the planet.” “Bonded, Spike?” “We’ll belong together
though. In truth, I already belong with
you.” “But, that isn’t… Oh, God, that is! Anya. I was supposed to take care of Anya forever.” “It’s going to be a long
life. Be nice if you fancied me.” “I keep telling you, I’m
straight!” “I’m more irresistible
than you are straight. It’ll happen.” “It’ll happen,” Xander
groans. “And you won’t be safe until it
does.” “No.” “Then I’ll… We’ll…
I’ll… Oh…fuck.” Spike fakes a shudder to
prevent further thought. Xander automatically hugs
and Spike smiles. ***** Home. Or as home as it gets. Spike wanders around
Xander’s admittedly swish apartment and plays with the what’s yours is mine and
what’s mine is mine approach that vampires are so good at. “There was plenty of
insurance money after Sunnydale,” Xander explains in the background, “and Dawn
was around at the time to help choose…” “Where’s the bedroom?”
Spike demands. It’s a mentality Xander
is growing used to, the obsession Spike has with fulfilling the spell,
understandably wanting to be safe. In Xander’s
reality he’s putting off the dreadful deed out of sympathy for Spike having to
be fucked by someone he can’t possibly want; in Spike’s reality Xander’s simply
being a tease and winding the vampire up to a state of permanent arousal. Spike is distracted,
however, when Xander takes the glowing crystal from his pocket and studies it
before placing it on the mantel. “You don’t have to look
terrified every time I go near it.” Xander expects a smartass
comment in return but Spike seems humiliated at being caught out. A little lost, a lot miserable. “Where’s the bedroom?”
Spike demands once more, and Xander knows it’s about time he showed him. ***** It’s not the first time
Spike has shed his clothes and expectantly waited for Xander to do the same,
but this time there’s the feeling that Xander will get his ass kicked if he
doesn’t comply. He has been as modest as
Spike has been immodest, so Spike doesn’t actually know yet what he’s getting,
but Xander always feels good when he hugs, and Spike has had innumerable
surreptitious gropes under the pretext of clinging to his champion. “C’mon, get your kit
off. Pointless being coy with me.” Spike flings himself onto
the bed, sprawling and stretching and looking anything but worried about his
fate. On his back and patting his body
in invitation. “I was thinking… Maybe it would be easier, y’know, from
behind?” Xander asks hopefully in a bid to cut down the embarrassment factor. Spike is up again and
shoving that damned contract in Xander’s face. “This symbol? Means face-to-face. We meet each other’s eyes at the moment of…” “Oh, fuck.” “Until then you can keep
your eyes closed. Pretend I’m whoever.” “No,” and that’s
hard. Meant. Spike the manipulative
bastard is not wasted here. “Can’t you try to want
me, Xander?” he asks, sad and big-eyed and too pretty for words. “Just once?
To make me safe?” “It’s not that… I don’t…
I can’t…” “Even now you’re a
sodding White Hat,” Spike whinges, throwing the sad prettiness aside. And then he’s purring in Xander’s ear. “Gonna make it good for me? Make me come so your conscience is
clear? If I get off it’s not…” “Stop it!” For the first time Xander pushes Spike
away. “I can’t do it, I’m sorry, but I
can’t do it. Not if you think it’s –
it’s…an assault.” “You think I’m going to
deny myself an existence because of a shag?” Spike laughs humourlessly. “Get on with it, can’t you? I can see the light dying in that crystal
even if you can’t.” “It’s dying?” “Read the contract,”
Spike says in idiot-speak. “Fulfil the
requirements or it’s all over for yours truly.” “So soon?” Spike tosses the paper
onto the dresser and flings himself onto the bed once more, back to his
sprawling and stretching. “I’ll make it good for
you.” “I’m not worried about
that.” Spike rolls onto his side
and softens his approach. “I want you. It’s not just about the spell. I do want you.” “Why?” “Because you’ve been kind
to me. I’ve learnt to appreciate
kindness. Soul an’ all.” The reminder that Xander
is not only condemning the demon but also the soul to purgatory is enough to
get him moving. Xander strips, at first
reluctantly, but then at speed to get it over with. Spike watches and enjoys. The human is gorgeous. Who’d have thought? Xander approaches the
bed. Slowly, the sodding tease. It’s a
long time since Spike’s been taken and he’s looking forward to this, he even
hopes he can somehow persuade some brutal fucking from the soft git who’s about
to mount him. But as long as there’s
contact he’ll be happy, even if this is Xander Harris. He laughs to himself but outwardly smiles
kindly at Xander’s troubled face. Xander
Harris. Lube in the nightstand,
and any other time Spike would make the most of that with a few cheap comments,
but Xander sits holding the tube and looking stricken. “Oh, for…! Give it here.” Spike snatches the tube
from Xander’s hand and kneels, preparing himself, eyes squeezed shut as he
enjoys the familiar rough handling of his body, not seeing but knowing that
Xander is watching and he can even imagine the look on the young man’s
face. Libidinous awe. That’s what this fabulous body deserves. Xander’s eyes, real or glass, will be fixed
on the slick fingers that are being worked into Spike’s body. Worked in and out of Spike’s body. It’s an unexpected turn-on, the thought of
Xander watching him finger-fuck himself, and as he curls those fingers and hits
his prostate the shallowest breath indicates that this isn’t purely about
practicality. “Can I?” Xander asks
softly, and Spike can’t believe he heard that, but with a swift move he’s
tipping himself onto his back and staring as Xander self-consciously positions
himself between Spike’s thighs. Fingers
slicked and, following as closely as possible what he’s seen Spike do, Xander
pushes one, then two digits into the vampire’s body, free hand holding Spike
down as he uncontrollably bucks at the heat and the intrusion. Difficult for Xander,
being so personal yet impersonal, and he’s trying to learn but at the same time
make this good, wishing he felt able to touch wherever he wanted because he’s
good with his hands, this he knows. He’s
instinctively following Spike’s finger-curling and that seems to do something
wonderful because he’s being grabbed at and drawn over the recumbent form,
pulled and pushed into position whether he’s ready or not. Luckily he is. Ready.
Xander is always ready. He’s been
always ready since he was thirteen. Any attempt at a careful
entry is nullified by Spike’s impatience, and Xander finds himself inside the
vampire’s body, strong hands on his hips manoeuvring him into an untidy rhythm. “You’re so…” Xander gasps at the tremendous pressure on
his cock. “This is so tight, it has to
hurt.” “Nice. Don’t stop,” as if Xander had ever really
started. Forcing himself still,
Xander touches the crease between Spike’s eyebrows, tries to soothe it away. “It hurts. I won’t hurt you, not like this. Let me go, Spike.” Spike has to admire
Xander’s treatment of him. Had this been
the other way around Spike wouldn’t have been so considerate. In fact, he’d have used the whole
spell/contract scenario to fuck Xander silly. Naturally, he’s not about
to comply with what Xander wants. “C’mon, Harris, you were
always a pain in the arse,” Spike jokes, “so this is nothing new.” Xander glares and tries to withdraw, but he’s
stopped. A change of tack and with soft
touches he’s encouraged. Soft
words. “Save my life, Xander. Please.” The tone is horribly
persuasive. The simple use of Xander’s
given name is a powerful thing, and his resolve weakens further at the yearning
on Spike’s face. “I won’t hurt you,”
Xander says stubbornly, but also unsurely. “That’s right, you
won’t. Vampire, remember?” Still unbearably hands
off, merely touching where they’re joined, Xander begins to fuck the vampire,
uncomfortably and stiltedly – so obviously not Xander’s natural style – and it
seems to Spike that the man cannot cope with face-to-face; to get the fuck he
wants, Spike turns his head away, chooses to remain passive and
non-distracting. It’s going through
Xander’s head that this is once and only once, to save Spike’s life. Okay.
At least that’s what he’s trying to think. But Spike turning away, almost turning off,
gives him the freedom to study this remarkable creature, and when he does it
pisses him off that he isn’t free to explore him during this solitary encounter. And if it is only
once… Spike feels Xander lower
himself, feels the connection of warm skin and cool. He won’t look to see what’s going on, but the
first exploratory touches thrill and terrify him. Fingertips explore his neck, pressing where
the pulse isn’t before gliding down to trace the shape of his collarbone, the
line of his pectoral muscles. A light
caress to his left nipple is unforeseen and startling although highly
predictable, and Xander’s cock twitches inside him as the tiny bud hardens
within a gentle pinch. Spike won’t look. Won’t look as Xander murmurs appreciatively
at the vampire’s abdominal muscles quivering due to the sensation of scratching
fingernails. His navel is explored,
played like an erogenous zone, finding itself thoroughly fucked by a rigid pinkie. Xander’s lips ghost over his chest, settling
on one stiff nipple then the other, parting to allow a moist tongue to flicker
and tease. The sensitivity of the
vampire’s skin is often overlooked. ‘Demon’
is the overriding thought and the body is treated accordingly. But Spike is so sensitive. And Xander recognises this. Knows and groans with the knowledge. “You’re beautiful.” Expressed without thought but with absolute
sincerity. This is unexpected. If it had been expected it would have been
feared. Spike has always been
physically available but there are places within him that no-one has ever
touched – nameless, unreachable, emotional places – and Xander fucking Harris
is not going to be the one… Or maybe he is because
Spike’s never been worshipped like this and he feels like he’s melting. Time for some defensive snark. If he can get his bloody brain to work past
the mind-crippling attention. “Don’t—” is all he can
manage, and Xander is bound to misunderstand. “I won’t stop,” the human
reassures and, there you go, misunderstanding, softly and sweetly. His misunderstanding is a
glorious relief. Spike is hard. Not just hard but hard. And Xander will be there next, with his
unswerving concentration and his touches and his getting everything right. Xander runs his hand down
the lean body, leaving it to rest momentarily on Spike’s belly as he continues
the examination visually, fascinated by Spike’s cock, and not only for the
places that it’s been. Nicer than his
own, Xander admits to himself, so perfectly proportioned, length by girth, and
as attractively pale as the remainder of the alabaster body, except for the
rosy pinkness of the glans. The first
touch, the back of Xander’s fingers stroking the underside, has that lovely
cock dripping, and Xander is relieved because that has to mean Spike is getting
off on this. “Fuck me,” a whispered
plea from the vampire confirms Xander’s assumption. Xander stops. Everything.
Waiting for the moment when Spike will look at him to find out what’s going
on. Spike will look, he’ll have to, and
he does. Oblivious to exactly how much
Spike is enjoying this, Xander expects the throwing of ocular daggers because
surely Spike wants this over and done with?
Surely? Xander waits and Spike
looks. Spike is further
unsettled by the expression on Xander’s face; uncertainty and longing. There is longing and what’s that about? It’s about this: Xander
touches Spike’s face rather than his body and, unwilling or unable to meet
Spike’s eyes, he focuses instead upon the vampire’s mouth. Spike knows that Xander
is going to kiss him and that’s quite daunting, a kiss is probably more
intimate than the sex, and he can tell that’s what Xander wants, the man
doesn’t want the sex without the intimacy and…
Suddenly they’re on the same page, because Spike knows that too well and
doesn’t want it either, the sex without intimacy. He wants this kiss, right
now he wants Xander; his insides churn with that knowledge, and he’s more
excited than he’s been for years. There’s a slight
hesitation when he fears that Xander might chicken out, but Xander is the
reliable, tender, stubborn one, and if he’s made up his mind… He’s made up his mind. Xander has the courage,
just about, to meet Spike’s eyes, and he sees a need there that he recognises. His heart jumps. Spike wants this. And Spike is more
irresistible than Xander is straight. Their mouths meet and
Xander’s tentative enquiry is met with an enthusiastic affirmative. They kiss. And kiss. And kiss. And they’re bloody good
at it: a century of experience meeting honed natural talent. Spike is aware that if
Xander moves now it will all be over, and wouldn’t that mean mortification? Brought off by a few, albeit incredibly
erotic kisses from the glorified bricklayer.
Carpenter, Spike corrects himself, and that’s when he knows this
is about more than a spell. He’s willing
to give himself over to the long-time loser that is Xander Harris because the
man’s kisses can calm the beast and rouse the soul. His hips tilt in
invitation and Xander gasps into the latest kiss and responds, slowly enough to
let Spike regain some control, slowly, slowly fucking their bodies into one
mighty nerve bundle of pleasure. Xander feels Spike’s
hands on his shoulders, back, hips, butt, urging him on and he gives in to both
the vampire’s earlier demands and temptation, and fucks. Spike is ready, but he isn’t ready for
this. Spike thinks he’s going to be
disappointed. He isn’t. This human is a Viking in the sack. Hard, soft, slow, fast, demanding, teasing, winding,
dipping, rolling, touching everywhere and it’s been far too long and
Spike is coming whether he wants to or not, having his orgasm wrung from him so
skilfully that he finally figures out the nature of his reward for saving this
worthless world. Xander holds back. He watches Spike’s pleasure and is enthralled
by the honesty of this creature, the sheer, unbridled, demonically-featured sensuality
that is revealed as he bucks and groans and moans nonsensical words that may,
however unlikely, be as affectionate as they sound. Maybe not too unlikely,
because Xander’s been loved for the sex before. Xander holds back. Despite being truly out of practise he still
has the control and he holds back.
Giving Spike a few seconds to recover because the essential duty, the
conforming to the spell, is about to become the ride of a lifetime. “Hey,” he whispers, and
Spike’s eyes open in a few blinks, yellow returning to blue. Focusing with warmth and appreciation and
desire and not a sign of rejection.
Either way. “Hey,” Xander
repeats, and Spike offers his mouth, having gotten the message. Spike is being kissed gently, fucked
considerately, and this is something he’s never known and it’s highly disconcerting. Maybe Xander gets that
because Spike finds his legs over Xander’s shoulders and his hips being gripped
as he’s fucked like a demon. He forces
himself to peek and Xander’s watching him, studying him inch by inch, not eyes
closed and pretending whoever. Xander is
fucking Spike, knowing it’s Spike, wanting it to be Spike, making this so damned
good for Spike. And Spike, no longer to
his shame because this man is a bloody Viking in the sack, unselfconsciously morphs
into his true face and comes again. And in a minute or two,
when he’s back on the planet, Spike’s going to flip Xander over and ride the
come out of him with reciprocated enthusiasm. For now he’s too zoned
out to register tenderly inquisitive touches to the lumps and bumps of his
vampire visage, but Xander doesn’t appear to be appalled or turned off, simply…tenderly
inquisitive. They’re certainly both
too involved to bother hoping that this isn’t over when it’s over. When they figure that
out… It’ll be a moment. ***** Spike doesn’t wait to be
asked or told or invited or seduced. He’s taking Xander’s clothes
off him as the human flounders over the simplest words, the way to say ‘I want
you again’. Xander could cry when
Spike’s mouth sucks his cock into its cool depths, because this is so wrong,
but if he can’t have this he’d rather be dead.
Not that he’ll be suggesting that to Spike and giving him ideas. Wrong for so many reasons but Spike is more
irresistible than Xander is straight.
Thank God. Who most definitely
doesn’t enter into it. “Want to fuck you,” passionately
from Spike and Xander is so far beyond saying no, or saying anything, so far
beyond speech or rational thought or anything other than opening himself up and
yelling in total elation when Spike takes him for the first time. The first time of what he instinctively knows
will be many. Many many at that. Wrong, but he feels more alive
than he has done in a year. Wrong, but it’s already
too much, and more than, or…whatever.
Since the first kiss, old-fashioned romantic that Xander is and tries
not to be. It’s everything. Spike can be everything. Xander says
stupid-action-without-sufficient-thought things when he comes. Spike believes every one. ***** “I want to come with
you.” Familiar words,
unfamiliar theme. Unfamiliar so far, but
only time will tell. “You can’t,” Xander tells
Spike. “Are you ashamed of me?” “It’s not you I’m ashamed
of, it’s myself.” “Because of that bloody spell.” “If I explain us I have
to explain that. Explain about trying to
bring back Anya.” “You know if it’d worked
she’d never have put up with this.” “I know. That’s something else I’m ashamed of, the way
I treat you.” Spike is always
distractingly sexy when he’s shocked.
Xander tries not to look at him being shocked in the hope they can
finish this conversation outside of bed. “You treat me well,
Xander, you have from the moment you brought me back.” “I should have been
honest about you from the start. It was
bad of me to leave you out of everything.
If I’d told them straight away…” “I’ll come with you this
time, we’ll think of something to tell them…” “More lies?” “We’ll say… That you’d gone back to Sunnydale to say a
final goodbye to Anya, and that was the night the Powers chose to return me.” “And when they ask why I
didn’t tell them before?” “It was my choice, I told
you not to tell them.” “They’ll ask why you’re
with me.” “That’s the one thing I
want to be honest about,” Spike says resolutely. “But that means they’ll
know about the spell and…” “Xander… Xander, why are we together?” “The spell.” “Beyond getting me here, the
spell has nothing to do with us.” “We were bonded,” Xander
stubbornly insists, “I was responsible for you.
I still am.” They both unconsciously
glance at the crystal that’s been sitting on the mantel for two years. “Xander, why are we
together?” Spike persists, and this could go on all night. “The spell.” “You’re such an obstinate
bugger.” One thing Xander doesn’t bother
to argue about. “Why, Xander?” “Because…” Spike waits patiently. Xander eventually admits defeat. “We fell in love.” “Yes. That’s what I want to be honest about. I can’t be with them and pretend I don’t love
you.” “We might just be
friends.” “We might not. We might have taken the time to discover that
we can be close, and loving, and that we want and need one another. Or any one of the other hundred positive
things we’ve found.” “I do love you,
Spike. This is just so hard. Telling them is so hard.” Xander turns his back on the vampire, and
Spike knows what’s coming next. “They’ll
ask me if you’re killing. What do I say
to that?” “That it’s the only part
of me that’s nothing to do with you. And
that’s pretty much the truth, isn’t it?
You don’t know, do you?” “I’m going alone,” Xander
says abruptly. “I want to come with
you.” “You can’t,” Xander tells
Spike again. ***** “Ashamed,” Spike muses,
and he’s plainly irritated. “That we
fell in love, or how we fell in love?” The crystal has been on
the mantel for three years. “Not ashamed,” Xander is
still maintaining. “You don’t have to tell
them it happened in bed.” “It didn’t.” “It did. And you know it. After that first time could you have
stopped? I couldn’t.” “Yes, well…” “Did you want to?” Spike
demands, despite knowing where this will go. “Honestly? Yes. I
wanted to stop. Until the next time you
came on to me.” It doesn’t hurt any
more. Spike ignores Xander’s
protestations over dodgy memories. He
was there and he doesn’t remember Xander putting up even a token fight. “You wanted to stop,”
Spike says flatly. “I’m getting confused
in my old age, I keep mixing you up with the bloke who wanted to fuck around with
me every spare minute he had,” “I’m not ashamed of it, I
just don’t want to tell them,” Xander reprises that old song. “Then don’t tell
them. Edit the account. Zip along to the moment when, instead of
saying ‘I love your body’, you said ‘I love all of you’.” Xander’s expression
softens with the memory. “I begged you to forgive
me for saying it.” “And I begged you not to
take it back.” They drift together, as
always, share kisses and comfort and stop the fighting long enough to build up
strength for the next round of their annual Survivors of Sunnydale reunion war. “I love you, Spike, more
than ever. I’m not ashamed of that.” “I want to come with
you.” “You can’t,” Xander tells
Spike again. ***** Spike comes in after yet
another of his nights out that leave him stinking of smoke and booze and sex. Xander is furious; there is the (now) usual
confrontation, which ends with the (now) usual argument: “Why the fuss? It’s not like we’re committed to one another,
is it? You won’t even tell your friends
about me so I can’t be that important, eh, love?” “Spike…” “The old ones I
understand, I’ve been putting up with that for – what is it now? – five
years? You don’t want to tell the
vampire-unfriendly about us, I get that, but the people you know here? I’m not a bad person, Xander, not anymore, it
wouldn’t hurt to…” “We are nobody’s business
but ours.” “Think Anya would have
stood for it?” “I am not getting into
this again. You stop screwing around or
you get out. Permanently out.” “You can’t do that, you’re
responsible for me.” Xander goes for the
crystal and right then Spike knows that he’s going to destroy it, put an end to
this and them and one infuriating vampire.
Fear floods through him because he can’t face losing everything that
Xander’s about to obliterate. Too much
fear. Spike cannot stop himself
and he lashes out in a bid to save his life; it occurs to him too late not to
lead with his left, because he’s smashed that fist into the good side of
Xander’s face, the side that Xander calls good, the seeing side. Xander recoils as much in
alarm as in pain, and Spike immediately wants to make it right even if he knows
he can’t. And when he approaches Xander
to hold him and shower him with apologies Xander offers the crystal with the
hand that isn’t clutched to his face, offers it and it trembles. “I was giving it to you,”
he tells Spike, his voice raw with suppressed emotion. “Giving you your freedom. I’d never destroy it, not now, what do you
think I am?” “Xander, love…” “Here, take it. I can’t remember if there are words, I don’t
think so. I give you your life,
Spike. You’re free.” Spike takes the crystal;
as he holds it the light dims and extinguishes before the entire rock crumbles
to dust and then to nothing as the spell becomes untouchable and unbreakable,
and Xander is Spike’s forever rather than Spike is free, but Xander won’t
figure that out for a while. “Xander…” Spike tries
again. Pointlessly. “Get out of here. Get out of my life.” “You’re responsible for
me,” Spike says mindlessly, clinging to what has kept him happy for years,
forgetting that it’s been a lie all along. “Not any more. You’re free to move on, fuck around, kill,
no-one’s gonna say a word. No me. Enjoy.” Spike stares at the empty
hand that momentarily contained the crystal and knows that he is as
invulnerable as he has ever been (damn soul aside, but that’s a different brand
of vulnerability). “You want me to go?” “Yes! Fuck off out of my life! You have what you wanted, now go. You’ve had all I can give you, now fuck off!” With a suitably dramatic swirl
of leather Spike fucks off. Xander panics. Calms himself, bathes his face, panics some
more as his good eye, the only eye, swells and starts to close. He repeatedly reminds himself that this will
be scary for a couple of days but he’ll get over it. And then he panics. ***** Alone. In the darkness. Complete darkness. Xander wakes, screaming,
terrified of blindness, trying to escape from the darkness that pursues him
from his nightmare with persistent cruelty and it’s too much like that first
year, waking alone and screaming. Spike’s there. Soft, reassuring words emerge from the black,
and the vampire switches on a lamp and brings it close so Xander will see the
glow through his swollen-shut eyelid. Spike’s there. Soft, reassuring words as he cradles the
distraught human in his arms.
Understanding how Xander had coped at the time of Caleb, correctly
assuming that the nights were always like this, full of screaming and terror,
allowing the days to be full of the good old dependable Xander that nothing
could defeat. It surprises Spike, quite
how intensely that hurts him, the thought of Xander suffering alone back then,
when he wouldn’t have known or cared. Caleb. For the first time since he’s been with
Xander, Spike wants to kill someone. But
he’s many years too late, and his long-forgotten affection for Buffy is
fleetingly revived because she is the one who cut the bastard down. Spike’s there. Xander touches and recognises the familiar
features. Spike’s there, and the man who
never cries…cries. Xander certainly won’t
suffer alone now. “I’m staying,
Xander. I’ll be good to you. This’ll never happen again.” “You should go.” “I’ll kill anyone who
hurts you.” “I want you to go.” Xander cries and Spike shushes. Spike’s there and Xander calms. “I want you to go,” Xander repeats. “Why?” “I don’t want you here
out of guilt.” “I’m not.” “You left.” “I came back.” “I don’t want you with me
out of guilt, or some false sense of duty, or – or…pity. I don’t want your pity.” “Can I stay because of
greed and expediency and lust?” “I’m not going to
change.” “Neither am I.” “Then you’d better go.” “Yes. I’d better.” That’s that. They’re over. It’s quite a moment. ***** Xander decides to find a
way to tell his friends – newer
friends - about Spike. After his nights out Spike
comes home stinking of smoke and booze. ***** Xander takes Spike to the
next work function and introduces Spike as his significant other. The only person Spike
ever smells of is Xander. ***** Xander is in his early
twenties, and visiting. “How?” “There was a spell. I’m bonded to a vampire. Because he doesn’t get older, I don’t get
older.” “He?” “He.” “Is he here?” “Yeah. Can I…?” “Yes, please.” Xander calls Spike in
and, after the shock and the joy and the tears, The relief is potent and
liberating and Xander wishes he’d told them all when he had the chance. “Okay?” Xander asks,
scared to hold his misleadingly frail friend too tightly, but now also afraid
to let go. “This is a relief. After you stopped visiting I thought the
worst, and this is so much better than the worst. You’re happy?” “We are,” Spike answers
for them. “All this time,” “Most of this time,”
Xander corrects. “We’ve had our share of
ups and downs.” He’s interrupted by a
sharp rap on the door. “I’ll get that.” “Before you do…” A glance is
exchanged. Spike shrugs, Xander
nods. ***** They’re feeling old and
tired. A century of helping
successive slayers avert successive disasters will do that to a man. Or a vampire. “We have to walk away
before we get killed,” Xander tells Spike as, fresh from battle, he falls into
his vampire’s arms and expects to be kept upright. “I don’t think I can do this anymore. I’ve had enough.” “What about me?” Spike
asks, self-obsessed as ever. “Had enough
of me?” “No,” A quick, sure
answer. “I’m still…growing into you.” Spike smiles, contented
and agreeable, and with both hands full of Xander-butt. “Time for a new life?” “Can we leave this
behind?” Xander considers his own
question and longs for freedom. “Can we,
Spike?” “How about we retire? We’ve earned it. Somewhere sedate. Tranquil.” Xander finds the energy
to laugh at the thought. “You’d drive me insane in
a week.” “Maybe. If you can’t keep me occupied.” “Keep you occupied,
huh? Wonder how I’m supposed to do
that.” Dark eyes sparkle
provocatively and hands squeeze, bringing their bodies close. They share a few increasingly interesting kisses
before being rudely interrupted by the latest in a long line of slayers, who
instinctively pulls the expected, unceasingly amusing, disapproving face at the
unnatural sight of a human and vampire entwined and lip-locked. “I need your help,” Dani
tells them briskly as she looks anywhere but their way. “Tough,” Spike replies happily,
gazing into Xander’s smiling eyes. “Tough?” Her attention snaps to them regardless of the
view. “We’re out of here.” “Now? In the middle of a fight?” “Your fight, slayer, not
ours.” “You have this covered,”
Xander says encouragingly, collecting his thoughts and his vampire and picking
up speed as he heads for the exit. “But…but…you can’t turn
your backs on this.” “We’re retiring,” Spike announces
with a smirk at the young woman’s baffled expression. “Somewhere quiet. In fact, anywhere but here.” “So you’re just going to
walk away and start a new life?” she delivers with heavy scepticism because she
mistakenly thinks she knows them. “I’ll
believe that when I see it.” Dani waits confidently
for the about-turn. After all, these
guys have been here forever. Yes, forever. And the years have seen Xander and Spike grow
apart and together and apart and right now they’re as together as they’ve ever
been. There have been good
moments, great moments, angry moments, lonely, happy, ugly, indifferent, sad, horrifying,
ashamed, unashamed, crazy, devoted moments. Right now, this is about the
devotion Dani won’t get her
about-turn because Xander and Spike are doing this for Spike and Xander. Hand in hand, human and
vampire. The slayer can’t help pulling
the face as she watches them exchange a playful kiss before they turn their
backs and walk away to start a new life. She’ll believe it when
she sees it, apparently. Well, Dani sees it. And as they disappear into the night Dani regretfully
believes it. ***** “What now?” Spike responds to the
question by pressing his lover onto the hood of their car and crawling over the
wonderfully familiar body. He kisses and
touches and whispers of eternal love; Xander lays back and lets himself be
adored. “Anything you want, Xander,
name it.” “You said it.” “I did?” Spike removes his hands
from Xander’s jeans and waits expectantly. “Time for a new life,”
Xander repeats Spike’s earlier words. “A
new life, Spike. Just for us.” The vampire considers and
nods before helping himself to more kisses.
They’ll get around to the new life when old desires have been satisfied. Xander stares into the
star-pocked sky, feeling cold night air and Spike’s mouth on his chest, belly,
cock, and for the first time in years he thinks about a spell that gave him
exactly what he didn’t want and everything he’d ever need. “I love you,” he tells
Spike, and feels the answering growl vibrate through his cock. He murmurs nonsensical endearments and
strokes his fingers through the vampire’s bleached-white hair; Spike redoubles
his efforts and soon Xander’s concentration is entirely on the orgasm rippling
through his body. When he looks up Spike is
removing one leg of Xander’s jeans and lowering his own to his thighs. Fucked on the car. Perfect.
Xander conveniently forgets about the dents from last time as Spike
spits the come he has held in his mouth onto his fingers and pushes them into
Xander’s heat. “Home,” Xander gasps. “Now?” The disappointment is evident and Xander
rapidly shakes his head. “I want to go back to
Sunnydale. To where we began.” “Pilgrimage,” Spike
observes. “Yep, I’m worth that.” “Yes!” Xander hisses,
answer or possibly encouragement. “Then we’ll think about
what next and fuckinghellyoufeelsogood!” Xander groans as he’s
filled full of vampire cock. Wherever they go, this is
truly home. Spike is home. The new life starts here. Hardly a revelation. It’s
merely…a moment. |