Part 120

 

 

 

With an anxious smile, Jake unlocked his front door before courteously standing aside to let Willow enter first.  With all the possibilities the future held, this step was quite powerfully symbolic, and Willow hesitated before walking into the hallway.

She looked around, turning a circle as she tried to take in everything at once.

“Okay, this is it.  Make yourself at home.  Whatever you want,” Jake promised her.

“Whatever I want?” Willow grinned.  “Rearrange the furniture?  Redecorate?  Order a pool?”

Jake returned a warm smile.

“If that’s what you’d like.”  The smile faded.  “But you know that you only have to stay a few days.  To let the bond establish.  After that…”  Jake shrugged.  “Friends.  Close friends, whether you’re here, or in Sunnydale, or…”  The words ran out.  Their connection within the bond fluttered.  Further words took more effort.  “Look around.  Choose…choose a room, bedroom,” Jake said awkwardly, trying not to give in to the baser thoughts the ancient ceremony had instigated.

“It’s okay, I feel it too.”  Willow squashed the apology before it could leave Jake’s lips.  “And I understand, we understand.  We’re going to be…attracted.  We don’t have to…”

“Do.  Anything.”

“About it, no.”

The mental image of doing something about it rushed into Willow’s head and she blushed furiously at both her lack of control and the image’s lusty appeal, knowing it was shared, guessing the effect it had on Jake by the way he deliberately turned his body away from her.

“Tea?” he suggested.

“Yes, thank you.”

“I’ll…  While you…”

“Look around, I’ll…”

“Look around.”

 

Jake hurried to the kitchen, filling and switching on the kettle, leaning against the counter and hugging himself, trying not to think about Willow, about what her presence could mean to him.  It was too easy to feel attached – attached and wanting – that was, after all, what the bond was all about, but…  Such a massive step, such a terrifying chance to take.

Despite the fear there was a dangerously pleasant little flutter in the region of his heart that didn’t want to be ignored.  Even if they weren’t to be a couple, the acquaintance of one more person he could be his true self with was an absolute treat.  One more person who would always be around for him.  Exhilarating, better than all the—

Jake set about a quick visit to all the places in the house he knew there were stashes of drugs, collecting the small packets of powder and twists of pill-laden foil, dancing around a giggling Willow at one point before making his way back to the kitchen.  Straight to the waste disposal and throwing his chemical props in, joyfully whizzing them away with a flick of a switch before bouncing around the room in jubilant celebration.

 

Willow wandered in silence for a while, studying the house with excited curiosity.  Time and again her attention was drawn back to Jake and his alluring emotions, and eventually it became impossible to resist joining him.  Accepting a cup of tea, Willow took her place beside him at the kitchen table, and they drank in comfortable silence, deep in their respective thoughts, unconcerned over what they might or might not be unintentionally sharing.

Neither was surprised to find that their fingers had met and linked together at some unknown point, and they stared at that joining for a contented moment, barely distracted by the thrum of energy that seemed to unite every fibre of their beings.

“I…” “We…”

They smiled.

“You first,” Jake said.

“No, you.”

“You.”

“Are we about to out-coward one another?” Willow asked, and their fingers tightened.

“You first,” Jake said softly, so kindly that Willow brought his hand to her face and pressed her mouth to its back, trembling with the emotion she was pointlessly attempting to suppress.  Jake’s eyes moistened in heartfelt empathy.

“I’ll never lose you,” she whispered.

“No.  You won’t.”

“It’s my greatest fear: being left alone.”

“Can’t happen.”

“I’ll never be alone,” Willow breathlessly repeated to herself as the truth sank in.

Overwhelmed by her emotions, Jake speechlessly shook his head, and Willow fled the kitchen.

 

Ten minutes recovery time, and Jake pursued her to the living room, watching her stare out into the brightening garden, waiting for her instruction to stay or go or…

“It would be safe to…to love you?”

…the question he most wanted to hear, if only because it allowed him to offer a little reassurance.

“Yes.”

“You think you could…love me?”

Trickier.

“I’m rather afraid to.”

Willow turned to face him, moving fast, needing to be closer and not questioning that urge.

“Why?”

“Because…with the bond, it could happen like…”  Jake snapped his fingers.  “And I’ve been hurt before, I’ve lost before, I’ve been avoiding love for years.  Decades.  And that’s mortal love.  If we form an attachment that goes beyond friendship and it’s broken…  The distress, the…the mental, emotional, physical pain would be…insurmountable.”

“So…  You really do just want to be friends?”

“We’d be good friends.  Great friends.  I think we would have been anyway, take all this out of the equation.  We were getting there, would have been there if it wasn’t for Xander sending you home and…”  The thought of Xander and Jake’s worried expression fell away.  “He’s very protective of you, and I’d be happy to bet he thinks I’m not good enough for you anyway.  Charming, his own…”  Jake’s voice softened.  “His own brother.”

Willow thought the wonder on Jake’s face was adorable, and surely that indicated it was time to check out the garden and indulge in some healthy non-togetherness.

“Did you understand any of it?” Xander asked as he slowed the car to crawl past yet another berserk-god-related pot hole in the road home.  “I mean, the how it was possible side.  Stepping into a circle carved into a wooden floor and suddenly being five thousand miles away on Sleat.”

“I asked Jake, and…  You know those conversations you have that begin with someone saying, ‘It’s really quite simple’, and ten minutes into the conversation you realise the last thing you understood were the words, ‘It’s really quite simple’?”  Xander laughed and nodded.  “Well, that’s all the help I’m going to be on the matter.”

“Is it worth my asking him or Pat?”

“Only if you want to know that it’s really quite simple.”

Xander laughed again.  Stopped.  Started.  Chuckled for a while longer as Spike watched, re-thinking earlier thoughts, wondering if he wanted to risk airing them or if Xander would overreact.  Actually, Xander overreacting was a given.  It was the timing, and Xander constantly told him his timing was crap.

Regretting that he was about to lose the smile on Xander’s face, Spike drew a hearty breath and got on with sharing ruminations that Xander really wouldn’t want to hear about.

“Xander…”

“Sweetheart.”

“I want to be honest with you…  There were a couple of times tonight when I started to wonder about us, about…whether we’d had as little choice in caring for one another as me and Buffy had when we were hexed.  If this was no truer than that, another mind-fuck that…”  Aware of the change in atmosphere, the chill in the bond, Spike looked at Xander, finding all the good humour predictably lost and his partner biting hard into his lip in an effort to stop either words or emotions pouring forth.  “Hey, love,” he said softly, but Xander wouldn’t even spare him a glance, obviously scared at what he’d see on Spike’s face.  Spike reached over and rubbed Xander’s thigh.  “I had to think about it, I had to know.”  Xander nodded, eyes fixed on the road, knuckles white as they gripped the steering wheel.

“What then?  You’ve been saying you love me, but…?  There’s a but.”

“I needed to know, and I thought, and I…”

“Fuck.”

“Not fuck, no.  Well, fuck, yes, if you’d let us.”

“Don’t make this any worse, Spike, if you’re about to tell me this is manipulation, or brainwashing, or – or something unnatural…”

“There’s the word,” Spike cut in.  “Not in the way you instantly thought either.”

“Unnatural,” Xander repeated bleakly.

“Us being apart was.  Us fighting was.  Any day in any existence that we haven’t touched in love.”

Xander was quiet for a while, trying to analyse his own thoughts and feelings, pick through the possibilities.

“Sure now?  About us?” he asked dourly when it became clear his brain was refusing to focus on more than negotiating the wrecked road.

“Completely.  This…” he squeezed the thigh beneath his palm.  “…is right.  No wonder anything else drove us crazy.”  A stiff flick of the head was all the acknowledgement Spike’s conclusion received  “I didn’t mean to scare you, I just wanted to tell you while it was fresh in my mind.  I had to let you know that this – we – stand up to scrutiny.”

“Why do you have to do this!” burst from Xander.

“What?  Scrutinise…”

“Frighten the shit out of me!”

“It wasn’t intentional and…”

“But you do, this does, and you know it.  The thought you might not—”

Spike waited but Xander had apparently finished.

“Want you?  I might not genuinely want you, after…everything?  Don’t talk daft, love.”

“Why am I stupid to think that?  You’re the one who felt it necessary to question what we have.”

“Only because…”

“You’re not so fucking smart yourself.”

“Xander…”

“Shut up, Spike.”

“I love you, Xander.  I love you so bloody much.”

“Then why…”

“For me.  To be certain that these are my feelings towards you, Spike’s feelings, not William’s, either or both, not what Patrick thought fit…”

“Pat wouldn’t…”

“Xander, I needed to know.  To know.  I had to know, to be sure, and I am.”  Spike waited for the next outburst; when it didn’t materialise he relaxed back into stroking Xander’s tense thigh.  “I am sure.”

“Great,” Xander ground out through clenched teeth.

“It is,” Spike agreed affectionately.  “It is great, you touchy little sod.”

“Don’t,” came the warning, and Spike smiled to himself as he slid further down in the seat, shifting until he could scrape his nails up the inner seam of Xander pants, knee to crotch.  “Don’t,” again, with a completely different inflection.  The angst seeping through the bond from Xander gave a distinct wibble in the direction of arousal and he jerked his leg away.  “Don’t.”  Husky.  Erotic.  Spike sighed in horny satisfaction until he remembered that they were behaving.  Spike sighed in frustrated dissatisfaction.

He sulked for a full five minutes before deciding to take it out on Xander with some outrageously filthy talk that would drive the human insane, but as he twisted in his seat to implement his plan, he discovered that Xander the Irritated had been transformed.

“What’s the soppy smile for?”

“No chip.”

Spike chuckled to himself.

“I’d forgotten, how about that?  No.  Bloody.  Chip.”

“You’re safe, permanently, and no more pain from the chip, the spells…”

“I can kill.”

“Yes.  You can.”

Recalling their previous conversation about this, Spike threw Xander a curious look, wondering why it felt this was going somewhere.  No immediate follow-up and Spike offered…

“Knowing I can, makes it easier not to.”

“I know what I said but…  I can’t ask you to make promises it’s unfair to expect you to keep.  You’re a vampire and I respect that.  Respect you.  If it happens, just…don’t tell me.”

“We’ve agreed time and again: no more secrets.”

“I also remember you telling me that you deserve some privacy.  That’s true.  Besides, it’s not a secret if telling me just…slips your mind.”

“You’re back to living in denial?”

“I thought I’d try living in acceptance.  Hopefully you love me enough not to force denial on me.  That part of your life can be private to you.”

There was a long pause as Xander concentrated on steering the car through some particularly severe ‘storm’ damage, easing the passenger side of the car onto the steep grass bank beside the road and forcing the Merc into a steep angle, smiling as Spike held on grimly to prevent a tumble into Xander’s lap, and Hamish grumbled as he slid across the back seat and came to rest in an ungainly heap squashed against the car door.

“Nearly there, guys.”

The car bumped back to level, and Hamish grunted in approval.

“Humans are no challenge,” Spike said abruptly.  “And after the blood I’ve been drinking…”

Will be drinking.”

“I never agreed.”

“There’s no choice.  I’ll tie you down and force feed you if necessary.  Ride you to take your mind off what I’m doing, and…”

Spike shifted uncomfortably.

“Don’t, love.  Not when we’re living with enforced celibacy.”

“Sorry,” Xander grinned in a blatant show of not sorry at all.

“As I…”

“I thought for a moment back there you were going to drain me.”

“What?  When?”

“When you claimed me.  You seemed so mad I wasn’t sure if you were going to mark me or…”

“I was never going to drain you, you arse.  How many times do you need to hear it?  I love you, I’m not going to hurt you.”

“Not that the bite hurts in a…hurts way, more a…hurts-but-not-really-and-totally-gets-me-hot-fuck-me-now way.  Just so you know when you fee…”

As I was saying  After the blood I’ve been drinking they taste pretty foul, so how much of a loss is that?  Besides, I want more of a challenge, and it’s the demons that are moving into the area that’ll provide it.  If humans get in the way that’s their tough luck, but…I won’t seek them out.”

“Those demons…  It’s nothing to do with me, is it?”

Time for a shrewd sidestep:

“This is more about that nest of vamps being gone.”

“They’re gone?  All of them?”

“Didn’t Max tell you?”

“I barely had a chance to talk to him, and when I did it was about Sammy.”

They exchanged a grin, and said, together:

“Sammy.”

Xander’s hand sought out Spike’s and almost crushed it in his enthusiasm.

“Sammy,” he repeated.

“We’ll visit soon, yeah?”

Xander nodded and tried to get back to their conversation, which, for some reason, was vaguely important although hardly in a ‘Sammy’ way.

“Umm…okay…  Tell me about the vamps.”

“Seems that when you dealt with Bradley and his band of merry morons there was a knock-on effect.”

“But you said they were…  Wait.  You’re saying…  All of them?”

“Apparently.”

“I killed all of them?” Xander’s voice was practically inaudible with the shock.

“Can’t wait to tell the slayer she’s got competition.”

“No!  You can’t!”

“Can’t I?”

“No!  ‘Cause…’cause…’cause…  Well…  Fuck.”

Having collected Willow’s case from the car, Jake led her upstairs.

“Did you choose a room?”

Willow immediately headed to the large, comfortably furnished one that happened to be Jake’s.

“This one.”

“Ah.  I’ll move my things after we’ve had some sleep, is that okay?  I used up the last of my energy leaping around the kitchen like a demented fool.”

“Not okay.”

Jake gave a weary chuckle and dropped the case to the floor.

“Fair enough.  Do you want to change the sheets and I’ll start moving…”

“I want to sleep with you.”  Jake fell quiet and waited for clarification.  “I want to sleep with you.  Sleep.  Just…”

“Be close.  I know.”

“Do you mind?”

“No.”  Jake took Willow’s hands, met her enquiring gaze.  “I promise you, you will always be safe with me.  At the risk of sounding like the William you must have met…”  They both smiled.  “…I will never take a liberty.  Your wellbeing and peace of mind will always be my first consideration.”

At the tender words, Willow’s jaw trembled and she found herself being held.

“I’m a little overwhelmed,” she managed to whisper.

The hold tightened.

“I think you’re entitled to be.”

Willow snuggled close.  Purely for the comfort, she told herself, not because Jake felt right beneath hands that she couldn’t seem to keep from roaming over his back, or because he smelt so damned good despite the strange, lingering odours from the Wheel.

“This, just touching you, it helps,” she explained on behalf of her wandering hands.

“It will, every contact will.”

Pulling back slightly, Willow gazed into Jake’s face, feeling the bond tugging at them, the need for a more intimate connection.  Sliding a hand up to the back of his head, she ran her fingers through the long, sleek hair, fighting the urge to seize a handful and use the grip to drag Jake’s mouth to hers.

“One kiss…  You think that would…”

“I thought we agreed…” Jake began a half-hearted protest, despite gazing at Willow as if he’d like to eat her alive.

“Yes, we did, sorry, yes, we…”

Jake’s lips were on Willow’s before she could even begin to fabricate sincerity.  One kiss.  The notion of one kiss being all they were permitted flittered back and forth between them.  One kiss.  A very, very long, increasingly steamy, single kiss, they compromised.

Willow backed Jake up until his calves hit the edge of the bed and the kiss was only broken when he tipped onto the mattress.  It took all her self-restraint not to follow him down.  Leaning up on his elbows he smiled as he studied her, and Willow smiled as she studied him.

“You’re so lovely,” Jake told her in frank admiration.  “I know the circumstances are crazy, but this is the happiest I’ve ever seen you.  And…you’re so lovely.”

Willow’s eyes trailed over this prospective mate from head to toes, relishing the effect she’d had on him: the dilated pupils, heaving chest, bulge distorting the front of his jeans.

“You’re pretty…pretty yourself.”  An offensive step forward; a defensive step back.  “For something safe, this doesn’t feel safe at all.”

“You’re perfectly right,” Jake said with a typically abrupt switch to grim certainty as he sat up.  “And tonight we’re friends, simply friends.”

“But…”

“Until we’re sure that any more is about what we want, not what we’re being lured into by some ceremonial hocus-pocus, or…or…”

“Mindless lust.”

Jake’s eyes squeezed shut.

“God, that seems like such a good option.”  With a laugh, Willow sat alongside Jake, leaning in and stealing a further kiss from his smiling mouth, not caring that he knew how much she wanted to forget about being sensible, and being safe, and being friends; not caring that he knew she’d prefer to concentrate on fucking him to a standstill.  “Sleep first,” he insisted, somewhat hoarsely, “and then we’ll talk it over and…and…”

“Get to the mindless lust?”

“We can only hope.”

They laughed, kissed through the laugh, until Jake forced himself away, up, and toward the door as he muttered about sleep-inducing milky nightcaps and the alleged anti-aphrodisiac qualities of Limberger cheese.

Alone, and so happily not alone, Willow rose and crossed to the antique dresser that filled half a wall of the room, taking her time studying a cluster of framed photographs.  Hoping it would be acceptable to add to the pictorial trove, she knelt by her case and rummaged inside until she found one of her most treasured possessions: a silver frame that contained her favourite photograph of Tara.  Her beautiful lost love smiled at her, and Willow smiled adoringly back, still feeling the loss but, thankfully, no longer being crippled by it.

“Hi, sweetie.  What do you think of this?  Hope you don’t mind ‘cause…  Miss you.”  Willow paused, regrouped.  “He’s nice, I like him a lot.  You’d like him, you always…you appreciated kindness.  And…ring,” Willow wiggled her fingers with a breathy laugh, catching the platinum ring with her thumb and prodding at its unfamiliar presence.  “Not what it seems, but…maybe, and you wouldn’t mind, would you?  No, you wouldn’t.  You’d tell me I should have done this years ago.  Not the whole ‘this’ with the immortality and the leaping through time and…  Just…this.”

The frame was carefully positioned alongside the existing collection, and Willow took a step back to admire the effect.  Something previously unnoticed caught her eye: tucked away behind the larger photographs was a plain wooden frame containing a faded drawing on rough paper that appeared frail with age; Willow recognised the familiar contours of the terrain around Dunscaith Castle, recognised two brothers, drawn by a cousin’s hand.

She touched Xander’s face through the glass, felt him in the bond – thankfully no longer squabbling with Spike – a part of her life, a part of…her.  The family, all there.

“I’ll never be alone again.”

Good to say, better to hear.  She repeated it as she replaced the drawing and picked up a formally posed sepia photograph of Patrick, Moira and Jake.  How’d they’d been for too long: without Xander.  Recalling the traumatic emotions she’d felt from Jake when they were on Sleat, and how easily she’d been able to associate with them, Willow hugged the frame to her chest, vowing that neither of them would experience such loss again.

“Willow?”

Jake was in the doorway, lured back by her sentiments, concerned and internally debating the best course of action but finding himself distracted.

“Max told me that if I decided to stay he’d be happy to share The Dark Place with me, and that perhaps we could buy the shop next door and expand, and…”  Willow swallowed hard.  “I said that the name might be a little off-putting to some customers and he explained that it was kind of a joke because of the location, the fact that the trees and buildings around it cut out all the light, so…”

“I can feel her.  Who is she?”

“She?” Willow repeated feebly.

“Don’t be spooked, but…I have this – this… ability, I suppose I’d have to call it, to feel residual energy.  Lasting emotions.  I had it when I was alive, it’s nothing to do with the family.  At least, I don’t think…”

“You can feel her?”

“What did you do when I was downstairs?”

Willow stepped out of Jake’s line of vision and he immediately saw the photograph.  As he approached she backed off fast, suddenly frightened at what Jake might experience, if Tara would somehow convey that Willow was wrong to have forsaken her memory.

“Don’t!” she cried as Jake’s fingers brushed over Tara’s photograph.

Jake’s hand pulled back, but he leant on the dresser and stared into Tara’s eyes.

“Lucky you,” he said to Willow with a smile.

“Yes.”

“What are you afraid of?  She’s…”

“Tara,” Willow whispered.

“Tara.  Tara is…  The feelings are full of love, and peace.  A perfect peace.  She must have found that with you.”  Jake glanced at Willow’s anxious face and, mortified that his actions should have caused her to suffer, swiftly moved away.  “Sorry, I shouldn’t have…  I’m so sorry.  I’ll be…”

Jake began to leave but Willow called him to a halt.  Shakily replacing the photograph she’d been clutching, Willow hurried to Jake, falling into arms that were already reaching for her.  Being held was no longer about superficial comfort, or teasing herself with lust they wouldn’t act upon.  This contact was about allowing herself to care again, and it was right, more than right: circumstances dictated that it was absolute.  Long-denied emotions blossomed in a healing heart, tingled through this renewed body and, whether it was a case of love at nth sight, godly trickery, or plain and simple security, Willow…accepted.  With acceptance, it was as if every negative emotion drained from her system, leaving a strange state of exhaustion and euphoria that left her clinging to Jake to keep her grounded.

“I think I finally understand,” she confessed in a tremulous voice.

“About what?”

“The belonging.”  She pressed closer and was gratified by his response: the sincerity within the bond, the possessiveness of his embrace.  “I’ve found the belonging.”

“Did you feel that?”

“Willow,” Xander murmured.  “Hope she’s okay.  You think I should call her?”

“No.  Give ‘em a chance to sort themselves out.”

“You think?”

“You can’t take responsibility for Red, love, it’s bad enough you playing my great protector.”

“Can’t help that.”

“I know, which is why I let you get away with it, just don’t…”

“Yeah, okay, okay.  She knows where I am if she needs me.”

“That’s right.  Now try saying it with conviction.”

 

Relief filled them, individually, shared, as they set eyes on Cedar House.

“I had this terrible feeling it was going to be in pieces,” Xander said what they were both thinking, and the car paused just inside the open gates so they could study the crater in the front lawn, care of the lightning bolt that had breached the ward as they’d fled the previous evening.  Now Spike voiced their thoughts…

“Seems a long time ago.”

…and Xander agreed with a nod.

“That’s quite a hole.”

“Fill it in, or keep it as a memento?”

“How about…  Turn it into a water feature.  Pond?  We could get some fish.”

“Hamish would enjoy that.”

“You think?”

“Yeah, add a nice bit of variety to his diet.”

“He wouldn’t—  Who am I kidding, of course he would.”

Home, and Hamish was scrambling back and forth in his enthusiasm to leave the confines of the car, alternately thwacking the rear of Spike’s and Xander’s heads with his wagging tail.  Xander leant over and popped the lock, and they watched as the hound leaped out and bounded over to give the crater a warning volley of barks before trotting off with a self-satisfied expression on his scruffy face.

“That told it,” Spike grinned.

“He’s so weird.”

An emotional lurch in the bond and Spike saw what Xander had remembered, trying to withdraw mentally and not share the sight of Hamish’s headless corpse slumping to the floor.

“Think of me, Xander, think of William, the bedroom, Sleat, us, think.”  With a shudder, Xander managed to refocus, and one distraction was replaced by another.  “Oh, Christ, can’t win, can we?  Think it’s possible to die of blue balls?”

“For us?”  They exchanged a telling look, lips twitching at the absurdity that had befallen them.  “Apparently not.”

The garage door was still open from their escape, and Xander drove straight in and parked.  They sat in the car, studying their surroundings: fine, it all looked fine.  Fine and not at all demolished by a vengeful god.  Fine.

“Fine.  Seems…”

“Fine,” Xander concurred.  “Shall we…?”

A joint nod and they climbed out of the Merc, used the garage access door into the house, sauntered into the hallway with swivelling heads, expecting chaos and discovering nothing beyond the familiar.  The only anomaly was the startlingly pervasive atmosphere of peace.

“Normality,” Spike observed.  “Here’s your normality.”

“It’s so quiet.”

They stood listening to nothing for a few minutes before Spike laid the book on the hall table and thought about being normal.

“Hungry?”

“Dry.”

“Can’t remember what’s in the fridge.  Beer?”

“Juice?”  The shrugged at one another.  “You mind if I go shower?  The smell from the Wheel…”

“Go up, I’ll join you.”

 

Spike’s sharp reflexes allowed him to snatch his hand back before it was caught in the slamming fridge door.

“What the—  I thought you’d gone up, love.”

Xander slid himself between Spike and the source of his food.

“You hungry?”

“Obviously, that’s why…”  Spike took a step back as Xander slowly began unbuttoning his shirt.  “Ah, no.  Get that idea out of your head, love, I’m not feeding from you.”

“Spike…  I want to be everything for you…”

“Not this.”

“…and I intend to be.  You can put up as much of a fight as you like, but I want this, and I’m going to get it.”

“You can’t make me.”

“I’ll throw away all the other blood we have, I’ll starve you if I need to.”

“I’ll go out for blood.”

“I’ll chain you up, I’ll learn to hex you, stop you going anywhere.”

Spike stared at Xander, slack-jawed in astonishment at his vehemency.

“Why?”

“I told you.”

Why?  Xander dropped his head and gave Spike a coy look from beneath his brows before starting to wander pseudo-casually away; Spike was after him in a second, catching his arm and turning him around.  “Too innocent, mate, that face.  So, this reason would be something…questionable?”

“I want to be…”

“Everything, yes, Xander, I know, but you already are, in all the ways that matter.”

Xander’s hand slipped to the back of Spike’s neck and he brought them close, brow-to-brow, voice becoming sweet and seductive.

“Everything, sweetheart.  Please.  Everything.”

“I thought you gave up trying to manipulate me a long time ago.  Thought we had that sorted.”

“I’m not.”

“Much.”

“Much,” Xander agreed, and he smiled unapologetically.

Spike had him up against the wall in a second, fists knotted in his shirt and knuckles digging uncomfortably into his collar-bone.

“Bad Xander,” the vampire purred.  Xander's fingers dipped into Spike’s waistband and tugged his hips closer: all the encouragement Spike needed to be hard and willing and…forgetful.  “I am going to fuck you to death.  And then, simply because I can, I’m going to do it again.”

“Uh-uh.  We’re being good.”

“Uh-uh.  You are.”

Spike kissed Xander vigorously, grinding his unhappily confined cock against Xander’s equally interested erection, but…

“Can’t, Spike.  We can’t,” Xander insisted as he twisted his face to the side, groaning pitifully as Spike sucked at the new scar.  “That’s…that’s…  Blood’s…different, no-one…”

“Expects me to go hungry?”

A rapid nod and Spike grabbed Xander’s chin, forced his head to turn; their eyes met and Spike smiled knowingly.

“I’ve figured it out.”

“What out?”

“My Xander: so…territorial.”  Xander frowned a lack of understanding, shaking his head in confusion; Spike wasn’t fooled for a moment.  “Oh, you’re good, love, but not good enough.  I can read you as easily as that book.”  Xander refused to comment.  “You don’t like anyone getting close to me, do you?”

“The family?  You mean the family – our family?  I was fucking ecstatic that you were included in…”

“He’s been in me, and you hate that.”

“I…  Who?  How?”

“Your beloved daddy.  Been drinking his blood, haven’t I?  You don’t like him getting that close, however good – questionably good – the intention.”

“He was keeping you safe.”

“Which is your job, right?”

“Does the bagged blood taste better than mine?  Does Pat’s blood…”

Nothing is better than your blood.”

“But you said that human blood tasted wrong.”

“What did I say about the blood of a consort?”

“You…didn’t.”

“That’s right, didn’t think it was worth mentioning.  Too obvious.”

“It should be, shouldn’t it?  I wouldn’t have questioned it before you reacted that way to Pat’s.”

“You feel it even now, don’t you?  His blood?  So sensitive to them all and you can feel him inside me.”

The neutral façade gave way to something Spike couldn’t quite comprehend, a whole mess of emotions on his partner’s face and within their link.

“Shut up, Spike, just…  Shut up,” Xander growled as he shoved the vampire away from him and stormed toward the hallway, thinking ‘clean’ and ‘shower’ and not, not, not ‘claim’.

“In you too, remember?” Spike called after him, and Xander came to an abrupt halt.  “Think I like that any better?”

“Hadn’t forgotten.”  Actually, Xander had; he’d rapidly thrown that knowledge out, along with the idea of someone he loved unknowingly offering him on a plate to that bastard of a god.  “You, umm…”

“Will be putting that state of affairs as right as possible when we can have all the trimmings.”  Xander gulped in a breath as Spike pressed up against his back, mind already racing with the possibilities.  “For us though, not for an audience: I’ll be taking you for me alone,” Spike continued softly, lips brushing Xander’s ear and sending him reeling with desire.  “But I do need to take you.  Have you take me.”

Xander gave a short laugh that broke apart the rising sexual tension.

“The others must find us very entertaining.  Up, down, happy, sad, fighting, loving, horny, insane, all in the space of an hour.”

“Xander, love, when they’re gone…”

The sultry purr made the usual precise connection with every one of Xander’s erogenous zones, and it was with the greatest physical effort that he dragged himself away from his lover.

“Shower.  Me.  You…”

“Me?”

“I really need to shave this beard off and…  Can you cut my hair?  Take most of it off now and tidy it up tomorrow?”

“I wanted to take some pictures.”

“Cora took – at a rough estimate – several thousand.”

“Not the type I want.”

They both felt the expected heat as that thought sank in, but Xander shook his head.

“You can take some normal shots of me like this, portraits, and that’s it.”

“Xander…” Spike began to wheedle, roaming hands caught and held.

“No, that part of me, Alexander, is not a porn star, Spike.  I wouldn’t have understood why you wanted those kind of photos – drawings then, I guess – and I wouldn’t have humoured you.  William.”

Spike thought back.  Back, back, back, back.

“You’re right.  You wouldn’t pose for me, not like that.”  The seductive smooch turned into a cuddle, and Spike slowly rocked Xander, pressing his face into the warmth of his partner’s neck.  “Alexander.  My own sweet Xander,” he whispered, adding, in Gaelic, “You are my world.”

Xander squirmed around, taking Spike’s face in his hands and stroking the cheeks with his thumbs as he gave him the gentlest kiss.

“I was right, wasn’t I?  I have loved you forever.”

“You have,” Spike smiled, returning the kiss, deepening it, ignoring the beard burn but unable to ignore the tingling sensation that was…  He broke away to find Hamish sitting beside his bowl, staring at them intently.  “How did you get in?”

“Don’t question his mysterious ways.  Picking a lock?  Child’s play.  Or would that be puppy’s play?”

Spike gently tugged at Xander’s beard.

“If I’m not getting my Highland porn you’d better shave,” Spike sighed resignedly.  “Before you sand my chin down to the bone.”

“Yeah.  And you’ll…  You have to eat.”

“I can wait.  You might feel less touchy about Patrick’s blood tomorrow.”

The thought of Spike going hungry was enough to make Xander think more rationally.

“No, I was being ridiculous.  Calm guy now, calm here, thinking sense.  You like that blood, be stupid to waste it.”  Spike nodded.  “But…  Think about what I want.  Please?  I don’t feel like I ask you for too much.  Do I?”

“No, you don’t.”

“I’m asking for this.”

Spike leant against the counter, wanting to give in to Xander’s request but, regardless of any changes to his lover’s constitution, still worried about damaging him.  What did he personally want?  Easy.  Xander.  All of him.  Although there might be fun to be had if, every time Spike drank any blood containing Patrick’s, Xander felt the need to reclaim him, it wasn’t as satisfying as Xander’s blood, or his arousal during the taking of, or his general state of contentment.  And Spike wanted Xander to be contented.  Feeding from him wasn’t going to change anything, unless it was possible to become even more possessive.  And possibly addicted.  That made Spike smile, which made Xander hopeful.

“We’ll be careful,” Spike told his lover firmly.  “I’ll take a little bit more each time I drink from you, we’ll make sure you’re…”

The words were muffled by an enthusiastic kiss, and Spike happily traded in his lecture for Xander’s attention.

“Start now,” Xander whispered enticingly.  “Just a little, just…the usual.”

“The usual, eh?  One taste of your blood and I’ll want to fuck you and fuck you and fuck you.  That usual?”  Xander whined and Spike laughed, sending him on his way and whacking him across the backside for good measure.  “I’ll feed Hame and I’ll join you.”

Spike barely had the food in the dog’s plate when Xander’s frantic shouts had him racing up the stairs, four at a time, demon emerging and ready to protect his own.  He skidded to a halt in the bedroom, finding nothing amiss, and darted into the bathroom.

“What is it, love, what?”

“Wow!”

“What?”

“Wow!”

What?

Xander turned his naked body in Spike’s direction.

“Look!  I’ve got a foreskin!”

“Fucking hell, Xander, is that all!  I thought you were being tortured, you screaming like that.”

“I have…a foreskin.”

“You were told your body would revert, blah, blah, blah,” Spike said dismissively as he shook the game face away and slumped onto the closed toilet seat.  Only seconds before petulance gave way to interest, and he had Xander turning a slow circle.  “Very lovely,” he complimented.

“Much different?”

“Some.  Bit…tighter, the muscles.  Harder.  Body of a warrior.”

“And I have a foreskin,” Xander crowed.

“Hope you like it or I’ll have to chew it off.”

“Hey, mine and no-one’s…  God, this is unfair.  It’s like…having a new electric toy and no batteries.”  Spike raised a questioning eyebrow.  “Can’t play with it.”

Spike’s chuckle was cut short as Xander continued to rotate.

“C’mere, lovely,” Spike said quietly.

The serious expression on Spike’s face brought Xander to him quickly, and he reached out to touch the vampire’s cheek comfortingly.

“It looks bad, I know, where I was…killed, but…”

“It’s gone.”

“What’s…”

“The scar.  Other scar.”  Spike’s fingers touched the smooth skin that, hours previously, had been the site of the damage Spike had inflicted in that lost time after Xander had removed the dog tags.  “Felt that every time I looked at you.  Gone.”

Hands now on Xander’s hips, Spike pulled the human closer until he could lay his lips on the unblemished skin.  Xander checked his arms, finding a couple of new, unremarkable scars that had to be Alexander’s, biting his lip in disappointment when he realised that the scar just below his inner elbow had gone.

“I wanted to keep that one,” he said, more to himself than Spike, as he rubbed a finger over the area.  “Saved your life.  After the Srumanteshtak, I fed you, kept you going.  I thought I was going to lose you.”  Xander leant forward, his arms draped around Spike’s shoulders as the vampire’s circled his waist.  “I love you so much, Spike.”  Xander’s voice cracked to nothing, and all Spike could manage was a brief, intense nod.

Spike hadn’t slept properly for days and virtually passed out the moment his head touched the pillow.  Xander, however, found himself wide awake and pondering all that had occurred since the last time he’d lain here.

It was simple enough to play around with the idea of what he’d become, but when he really considered it, deeply, he recognised that there was going to be a long, long period of adjustment, and he may prove himself to be immortal by living a few centuries before he actually came out of denial and admitted the truth to himself.

Spike’s casual acceptance helped; it was easier for Spike, naturally, he was already accustomed to the idea of immortality, and despite his pleasure at the thought of keeping Xander with him for the foreseeable and unforeseeable future, he was pretty much business as usual, more concerned with the lingering presence of Patrick’s blood and looking forward to physically reclaiming his mate.  Xander wasn’t sure a hearty fuck would be the cure-all but it was more state of mind than state of being.

So, yes, Spike’s attitude helped, the thought of being safe helped, the thought of losing Buffy and Dawn didn’t help, and that would be to an exponential degree.  Dawn’s kids, Xander smiled to himself, would be safe.  Safer.  He’d never lose Willow and, if the fates were kind and Jake kinder still, she’d never be lonely again.

Jake.  His brother.  Xander still found himself shaking his head over that one.  Patrick, his father.  Moira, his mother.  If this had been about anyone else he’d have unthinkingly gone along with it, after all, he’d accepted and survived some equally strange and perplexing revelations and events in Sunnydale.  Dawn – perfect example.  Buffy didn’t have a sister, and then Buffy did have a sister.  Of course, he didn’t remember Buffy not having a sister and that helped, but he’d been home, and…  Home was a castle.  The silly grin he’d worn on Sleat returned.  They’d lived in a castle.

Diverting his thoughts back from the feasibility of building a castle to live in now, Xander made a deliberate return to his grandfather, however distasteful.  He found himself nervous when thinking about the god, as if their connection was strong enough to bring about some kind of contact.  He was…not scared, but wary of certain possibilities.  Perhaps the god’s interest skipping a generation had left Xander more in tune with him than Patrick understood, and…

“Stop thinking, love,” Spike mumbled as he stirred.  “You’re loud.”

“Sorry.”

Spike grunted in acknowledgement and turned, wrapping an arm around Xander and settling back to sleep.  Unfortunately Xander carried on being loud, and eventually Spike lifted his head and propped his chin on Xander’s shoulder, blinking drowsily at his partner.

“Why the thinking?  You keep thinking, Xan, it’s not good for you.”

Xander smiled at that.

“You think I’m going to have problems with Taranis?”

“No.  Shut up and go to sleep.”

“Okay.”

Spike sighed and made himself comfortable on Xander’s chest.  Xander thought.  Loudly.

“Xander…”

“I’m trying to find a smaller box to fit ‘immortal’ into.”

“Ah.”

“I’m some kind of freak, and…”

“Lucky freak.”

“Maybe lucky.  Maybe.”

Spike nuzzled Xander’s skin as he thought, relishing the familiar taste and smell, satisfied that Xander belonged to him, immortal or not.  Or not?

“Smaller box?”

“Help?”

“’Kay…  Define immortal.”

“Living forever.”

“You’re not immortal.  Case closed.  ‘Night, love.”

“Hey, not so fast.  I was immortal two minutes ago and I’m not now?  How did that happen?”

“You have the potential to live forever.  You’re not invulnerable: Patrick told us you can be killed by gods, and I’ll bet if there are other families like the MacDonalds around, they could be pretty lethal too if they wanted to be.”

“So, it’s all in the definition?  I have the potential to live forever if I don’t get killed meantime.  I can die, so I’m not strictly immortal.”

“That’s right.”

Xander finally began to relax.

“I feel so much better knowing I can die.”

“You think Hame’s weird?  Compared to you…”

“At least I don’t eat entire bird’s nests and cough up feathers.”

“Go to sleep.”

“You mind if I think this over?  If I try to think quietly?”  Spike groaned his displeasure and rolled away.  “Why doesn’t this affect you more?  Surprise you?  You’ve been calm, collected…”

Spike rolled back.

“I’ve been calmly and collectedly getting what I want.  What’s to make a fuss over?”

“Is that it?  That all?”

“Not all.  I’ve always suspected there was something special about you.  Different.  How else could you have got through life on the Hellmouth without spending several decades in therapy?  Hell, literally, and it was water off a duck’s back.”

“That’s not entirely true.”

“True enough.”

“You’re just trying to shut me up.”

“No.  Well…yes.”

“You always thought…”

“Extraordinary.  Keep telling you.”

“But…”

“There’ll be time for this later, when I’m actually awake.”

“Yeah, but…”

“That’s enough.”  Spike fixed his cross and bleary gaze on Xander.  “One more word, one more thought from you, and I’ll sleep in the spare room for a week.”

“Visiting rights?”

“None.”

“So…”

“Xander!”

“Sorry, sweetheart, sorry.”  Xander rearranged himself, snuggling down with Spike and trying to be sleepy.  “Purr for me,” he requested as he buried his face in Spike’s hair.

The purr broke out and Xander immediately felt the soothing effect of it.  Until he started to wonder if there was the possibility that he’d been gifted the purr along with the night sight, and what other differences might show up in time.  Because of the ceremony, and the whole shared…whateveryoucallit, and because he was, apparently, the grandson of a god, and somewhat immortal, and what would happen if…

“Xander…”

“Sorry, sorry.  Not thinking.  Doing the whole not thinking thing right now.”

“Y’know, sometimes, your disposition would be greatly improved if you didn’t give a toss.”

“Okay.  Not thinking, not giving a toss.”

Spike purred some more, and Xander smiled as the sound stuttered and faltered as his partner finally went back to sleep.

Silence, and it was good, because it meant that everyone else was at peace too, and that would be everyone who’d been there, lived and died and lived with him, somewhat immortal too and…

Xander caught himself, stopped himself.

He thought, very quietly, about not giving a toss.

 

 

Repossession 121       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

 

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