Part 121

 

 

 

Spike woke at sundown, the norm for your average vampire but unusual nowadays for this one.  Usual, however, was the turn to Xander, the touch, be it fingertips or toes or substantially more, seeking reassurance that the human was there.  Spike had stopped questioning the need and trying to attribute it to any particular mentality: sire/childe, or master/consort, or even the simplest claimant/claimed, where they’d begun to bond in this life.  It was the simple desire to be close to his mate, and there was nothing ritualistic or complicated about it.

Xander’s chest rhythmically rose and fell, and Spike let himself be mesmerised for a while, before taking in more of his man and enjoying the sight of the long hair that fanned out to turn the pillow dark and glossy; Spike experienced a lusty twinge, and he mentally accumulated a few possible responses to the moment he confessed that he wanted to wind Xander’s hair around his cock and come in it.  Probably eye-rolling resignation, but Xander would let him.  Xander rarely said no, except, naturally, for all the no’s he’d be saying while the bond had the entire family’s minds trussed together.

Pushing the covers down, Spike studied Xander’s torso, relieved to see that the scar from Alexander’s mortal wound was almost gone.  He couldn’t help the rush of tears that accompanied his long examination of the area that was once marred by his actions, and knew that was going to be the reaction for a while yet.  Still, it would earn him lots of Xander hugs and kisses, and with repeated forgiveness he’d eventually bawl himself out and move on.

Easing the bedclothes down a little further, Spike’s attention moved to Xander’s latest accessory, and he grinned as he recalled the fuss over this scrap of skin.  Thoughts of how much more sensitive Xander was going to be now drew Spike’s wicked brain in unwise directions, and the semi he’d been sporting since he awoke sproinged into a full erection.  He wriggled down the bed and laid his head on Xander’s stomach, experience guiding him to the exact spot; he gently stroked his fingers through the springy hair at the base of Xander’s cock, fingers trailing lightly over his balls, and the object of Spike’s desires hardened, lengthening to meet his waiting lips.

Xander murmured as the tip of his cock was welcomed into Spike’s mouth, progressing to a soft groan as an inquisitive tongue explored the territory, new and old, and as Spike lapped up the first show of pre-come, Xander was waking and burying a hand in the vampire’s hair.  Not to push Spike’s head further down, but to yank it up and away.

“We agreed,” he chided in a sleep-gravelly voice.

“Everything’s quiet, I think they’re all still asleep.  Might just give them a lovely, horny dream.”  Obviously Xander wanted to believe that, and his hold weakened; Spike went back to the delicate task of introducing his tongue to the virgin area between Xander’s foreskin and glans.  Big reaction from Xander, a stir in the bond and Spike was snatched away again, this time manhandled to lie on Xander’s chest and firmly held there.

“What would you like to do today?” emerged from Xander, as opposed to the reprimand Spike had been expecting.  “What’s left of today,” Xander corrected as he glanced at the clock and stoically ignored the sensation of Spike’s body pressed against his hard cock.

“Food first.  Not that there’s much downstairs.  Didn’t bother to stock up, did we, believing we were knocking at death’s door.”

“Was it that deliberate?  I think I was just too tired to give a damn.”

“Suit yourself.”

“How about…we go somewhere really classy and celebrate not being dead?  Other than your wholly acceptable undeadness, naturally.”

“Nice.  The two of us, no-one else?”

“The two of us,” Xander agreed with a kiss to Spike’s temple.  “You feel that?  Everyone’s waking up.  That’s…”  An indescribable feeling, so Xander didn’t bother trying, knowing Spike was experiencing this too.  A pulse of unadulterated horniness hit them, and Spike groaned and rubbed his cock against Xander’s thigh as the human lay there breathless.

“And you thought we were going to corrupt them,” Spike murmured as he shifted his body more completely over Xander’s, bringing their erections together and…being easily tossed aside as Xander was up and out of bed.

“We gave our word.”

“No, you gave…”

“Then jerk off,” Xander snapped.  “Have a great time with your hand and hope you don’t make it impossible for Wills and Jay to make a rational decision about their future because you’re piling the pressure on.”

“They’re…”

“Horny, yes, but not necessarily acting on it.”  Xander shrugged into his robe, all the while aware of Spike’s irritated glare on him.  “Don’t look at me like that.  And don’t be pissed at me because I’m right.”

“See, Xander…  I know you’re right, but I don’t care.”

“You’re not prepared to wait a day?  To give people we love the chance to work out a lifetime?  A day?

“Put the sodding halo aside, it doesn’t suit you.”

“The…!”  Xander came around the bed and stood over Spike, meeting his defiant stare with one of his own.  “You just wait,” he warned.  “This time tomorrow…you’re in big trouble.”

Xander spun on his heel and marched out of the room, waiting until he was in the hall before letting a smile creep over his face; back in the bedroom, Spike stretched and grinned and didn’t lay a single licentious finger upon his body.

Not long after, Spike followed the internal call that Xander pushed through to him, finding him at his desk in the study with the laptop open in front of him.

“All right?”

“Yeah, I want to, um…”

Xander turned the laptop to face Spike as the vampire crossed to his side.  On the screen was a photograph of Xander’s thigh, marred by a row of precise cuts.

“Xander,” emerged as a mournful whisper.

“It’s okay,” Xander promised as Spike pressed a kiss to the top of his head.  “This is what I wanted you here for…”  Xander pulled Spike into his lap and let his partner watch as he methodically deleted every picture in the file, then clicked away the file itself.  “It’s taken so much to achieve it, but…the part of me that needed that is healed, Spike.  Whether I am in control of my life, or whether it’s just a very convincing illusion, it’s enough.  And…  Thank you.”

Spike silently stared at the nothing that remained until the screensaver kicked in, and there were photographs of the two of them flicking past, assiduously selected, beautiful images of beautiful men.  Whole men.  Healed men.

Twisting around, Spike tilted Xander’s face up to meet his, bestowing the offered mouth with many, many kisses before hugging Xander tightly.

“My love.  My darling.  The times I thought I’d lose you…”

More frantic kisses that gradually slowed into the loving, appreciative kind, and Spike sat back to admire his lover, fingertips caressing brow, nose, cheek, jaw.  Hair.

“Want to take the photos?” Xander asked, happy to distract his partner.

“No porn,” the vampire pouted.

“How about,” Xander grinned at the incorrigible attempt at manipulation, “a couple of tasteful, shirtless shots?  Although, you do like the white shirt that goes with the kilt, y’know, when it’s really loose, hanging open.”

Spike’s hand dipped into Xander’s robe and stroked his chest; Xander took a moment to examine the faint mark on Spike’s neck, the fading reminder of the blow that killed the first William.  Pulling Spike a few inches closer, he pressed his mouth to it.

“I’ve loved you forever,” he said against the mottled flesh and, through the bond, he felt Spike’s elation.

Xander followed up a recommendation from one of his former clients and booked a table at a perfectly charming restaurant; he and Spike arrived in virtual silence, exchanged a few comments as they studied the menus, waited for the food in virtual silence, ate in virtual silence.  Few words, minds verging on blank, aware that the lethargy that had crept up on them was affecting the other members of the family too.

“S’pose today was always going to be…anti-climactic,” Spike eventually volunteered over dessert.

“Is that it?  I feel like I’ve reached a point where all the emotion has been wrung out of me.”

“Regrets?”

“No.”  Then Xander actually thought about it.  “No,” he confirmed.  “Beyond the obvious.”

“Willow was right about the Bit, about not depriving her of her kids.”

“I know.  I do know.”  More silence.  “I’m feeling out of touch.  Be good to catch up, find out about the wedding, if Dawnie’s going ahead with the Caribbean beach.”

“You’ll be telling her?  About what’s happened?”

“I’m telling Dawn, Willow gets Buffy, you get Angel.”

“He knows something’s going on.”

Spike smirked and rooted in his pocket for his cell phone, handing it over so Xander could see the panel stating fourteen unanswered calls, all from Angel.

“He must remember.  Pat and Beth in the street where you were turned, all the other things he was suspicious about and forgot.”

“He’s going to be unbearable.”

“You better give him a call before he shows up here in ultra-protective grandpa mode; I’d rather he heard about this with a few hundred miles between us.”

“He can stomp about and whinge all he likes, it won’t…”

“Is he safe?” Xander interrupted, suddenly urgent.  “Taranis doesn’t hate demons any less than this time yesterday, and if Angel remembers, figures him out, says his name…”

Spike silenced Xander with a raised hand.

“We’d have been told to warn Angel.  Now he has no vested interest, the old boy – Taranis, not Angel – is more likely to go and find new toys to play with.  Besides…”  Spike tipped his wineglass at Xander.  “He’s lost the battle.  The Heir has rejected him, the family has a demon stuck squarely in the middle of it, so…”

“What’s the point?”

“Precisely.”

“But he’s mean and vindictive and…and…what if he’s looking for a way to punish us, this would be…”

“Talk to Patrick,” Spike said, tone of voice a definite full stop to Xander’s concerned waffling, and the human gave him a guilty look.  “Go on, Xander, if it makes you feel better.”  Another guilty look, guilty nod, guilty body language as Xander scurried away to the restaurant’s lobby to make a call without disturbing the other diners.  While he was waiting, Spike caught the maître d’s eye and waved him over.  “Does this place deliver?”

“I’m afraid that isn’t our usual practise, Sir.”

“Would a thousand-dollar tip convince you to lean towards the more obliging?”

“I feel myself inclining as we speak, Sir.”

“Okay, the Beef Wellington, the lobster, all the trimmings, to…”  He borrowed the man’s pen and wrote Jake’s address on one of the restaurant’s exquisite linen napkins; for a thousand-dollar tip, the maître d didn’t even flinch.  “And desserts, send desserts, your choice, just make sure there’s some chocolate in there.”

“Of course, Sir.”

“Cheers, mate.  Hop to it.”

Spike sat back in his chair with a satisfied sigh.  He loved having money.  Xander’s money.  And surely he was due some of his own now?  Spike made a mental note to ask Patrick about funds, as happy at knowing he would remember to do that as he was about the thought of pumping his account full of dosh.  He looked up with a welcoming smile as Xander returned and handed Spike his phone.

“I didn’t need to use that.  I have my own,” he said with bemused realisation as he sat and took a sip of his lukewarm coffee, pulling a face and replacing the cup in its saucer, fiddling with it until he thought to check his own phone and finding a dozen messages from Angel that he deleted without listening to.

“Well?”

“Nothing to worry about.”

“Godly big picture, and Angel’s too insignificant to matter, right?”  Spike’s smugness knew no bounds on this one.

“Don’t tell him that, okay?” Xander demanded, trying not to break into giggles at the expression on Spike’s face.

“I’ll tell him we made a deal for his safety and he owes us.  That should keep him out of our hair.”  He William-flicked his long hair back.  “All of it.”

Xander leant on the table, head propped on one hand as the lethargy crept back.

“Can we go home?”  Spike nodded, relieved at Xander’s suggestion.  “Will you drive?”

Spike nodded again, and Xander rifled in his wallet for his Gold Card.

“You might find the tab’s a little steep, pet,” Spike smiled innocently, and Xander smiled back because he had no idea.

Naturally no vampires hanging around Cedar House’s gates, but in their place was a strangely built demon that reminded Xander of the Tasmanian Devil in the Looney Tunes cartoons, except this one was at least seven-feet tall and had the appearance of something knitted that was unravelling fast.

“Deal with this, shall I?” Spike asked as Xander groaned at the sight and slid further down in his seat.

“Just crack the window and tell him to fuck off.”

At the press of a button the window silently slid away, and the demon came forward to take a few deep inhalations.

“Vampire be,” it creaked.

“Fuck off,” Spike amiably followed orders.

“Heard of you I have when fearsome reputation that you do.”

“Huh?” said Xander.

“Must challenge be having for surveyed all now disappointed I will be at this the look of.”

“You can try to take whatever you want, but remember: very deceptive, looks,” Spike pointed out.  “Few words of advice from the challenged Master?  Run along now, while you’ve still got all your parts.”

“Scared you think of you I shall be?”

“No, I think you’re too stupid to be scared, which is fairly entertaining in its own right.”

Xander leant across and executed an airy wave.

“These aren’t the droids you’re looking for.”

Spike sniggered and pushed him back into his own seat.

“Loose tongue too and hideous faced punished must be.  That damned yes is the pet whore.”

“That’s it!” Spike snapped, furious at the insult to his consort.  He was out of the car in a second and moving in on the demon.

“Can I not mind being your hideously featured pet whore?” Xander called after his partner.  “That way we get to go home and…do nothing.  How good does that sound, huh?  Spike…”

Xander climbed heavily out of the Merc and slumped against it, arms crossed on the roof, as he watched Spike and the Taz menacingly circling one another.  The demon suddenly pointed in Xander’s direction.

“Mute I be willing with lungs to remove.”

“I like his lungs exactly where they are.  Yours, however, may soon be adorning the nearest tree.”

“Stop playing with him, Spike.  Just kill him if you’re going to.”

“I’m building up to it, getting the engine going, no fun if you just…”

With a start, Spike swung defensively around as Hamish burst noisily out of the copse that ran alongside the house and grounds; the demon saw its chance and, moving unpredictably fast for its bulk, swung a meaty claw in the direction of Spike’s neck.

“No,” Xander told it, focused and uncannily serene; with a horrific scream the demon turned into a fireball.

Spike dragged Hamish away by the scruff, turning back to see Taz’s tatty exterior decimated by the rippling flames and intense heat, barely having time to push his dog behind him before the demon exploded, leaving Spike covered in charred skin fragments and incongruously lavender-scented, khaki/lemon-marbled gloop; the creature’s bones were flung in all directions but luckily missed any potential targets, living or undead.

The vampire slowly turned to find Xander staring wide-eyed with shock at what he’d apparently done, and Spike was able to imagine the expression on his own face, gazing at his partner in awe, as if he were…well, the son of a son of a god.  Hamish broke into Xander’s preoccupation as he happily investigated the remains and found a large, meaty thigh bone to claim and trot off with.

“Oh.  Oh…fuck,” Xander whispered.  “I just thought…  Barely thought…”

“I reckon we’d better get that looked at.”

Xander took a step away from the car, and a few more toward Spike, noticing the slimed state of Spike’s clothes and coming to an abrupt halt.  Seeing the look, Spike peered down at the mess he was in with an entirely unimpressed expression.

The human’s face contorted as he tried not to giggle, fighting the urge but not being able to resist at the picture before him.

“No, Xander.  Not funny,” was all he needed to give up the fight and break into guffaws of laughter.

“Funny,” he gasped.  ‘Sorry baby, but funny.”

The vampire’s body-language slipped into attack mode; with an alarmed shriek Xander fled, Spike in hot pursuit and soon tackling Xander to the ground, sharing a big, squishy hug and ensuring they were both smothered in liquid demon.  They lay on the grass, heaving breaths and chuckling.

“I thought you could develop the skill, didn’t know you were fully loaded and trigger-happy.”

“Me neither.  And…and…that was probably you.  You inherited Willow’s Wicca abilities and…  You don’t think?” Xander finished in naïve hope as he was faced with Spike’s unwavering scepticism.

“We have to accept that you’re one gorgeous ‘n’ sexy pyromaniac and go with it.”

“Pyromaniac?”  Spike nodded.  “You can cope with that if we can’t switch this off?”

“Did you miss the gorgeous ‘n’ sexy?”

“So…?”

Yes, Xander.”

“Yes.  Good.  In which case…  I have one question.”  Spike nodded again.  “You still have that list of bastards you want fried?”

Both choosing not to draw attention to the fact that Xander was cracking jokes to mask his fears and insecurity over what had occurred, they entered the house via the conservatory, using the facilities in the pool room to clean up, and trying to keep a reasonable distance from one another, knowing exactly where close proximity would lead with so much flesh exposed.  Luckily there were clean clothes in the utility room, and they hurriedly, if reluctantly, dressed.

While Spike went back for the car, Xander checked the answering machine, accurately guessing that it too would be jam-packed with Angel, and once again deleting each message without listening when Angel’s number popped up on the display.  He played one from Rafe:

“Hey, Lexy, Will, just wanted you to know that we took Sammy’s laptop back to him today, and…it’s all fixed up, did I tell you that?”  Xander started to panic.  “And before you panic, Alex, it was done by someone who wouldn’t give a damn what was in the files, okay?  Trust me on that.”  Xander stopped panicking.  “Sammy said to say hi before he passed out again, and I know he’d love to see you both but Max says leave it till the end of the week when he’ll be stronger.  Hope you’re both okay, see you soon.”

That was fine: Xander had already mentally pencilled in Saturday for the M’lura, hoping Sammy would be recovered enough by then for visitors who wanted to stay a while.

Spike passed by with the boxes from Willow’s that he’d retrieved from the Jag’s trunk.

“Anything important?”

“You have to call Angel,” Xander stated the obvious.

Taking a minute to deposit the boxes in the living room, Spike returned, took the phone Xander was already offering, and stabbed Angel’s number in.  He waited only seconds for a reply.

“Angel, it’s Spike.  Xander and I are perfectly fine, and we’ll talk soon but not—    No, not now, I can’t be arsed, and we’re fine, that’s all you need to—    Later.    Later.  No, we’re fine.  Say we’re fine, Xander…”

“Hey, Angel, we’re okay,” Xander called.

“See?  Now give us some peace and I’ll explain more when—    Not now.    No, not now, not now,” Spike finished emphatically before cutting the connection and throwing the handset back into it’s cradle.

One last message on the machine; recognising the number on the panel, Spike hit play.

“Hi guys, thank you for the food, very kind of you to think of us,” Jake said.  “We were wondering though…  Did you cut your hair before you went out?  Or did the people at the restaurant think the Chippendales had reformed?”

A giggled reprimand from Willow and the message ended abruptly.

The two men looked at one another, up, down, up, down.

“Chippendales,” Xander said flatly.  “He’s…  What do I do with him?”

Spike tossed his hair, adopted a sexy pout and shimmied, letting the duster slide down his arms and drop to the floor.  A leisurely, elegant rotation as he teased open the buttons of his shirt and Xander grabbed him, keeping him at arm’s length as he hustled him into the living room.

“I’m Chippendale material,” Spike protested.

“You’re too gorgeous for words, Spike, but a Chippendale?  You seen the size of those guys?  One of them could crush you between his buttocks and break every bone in your body.”

“He could bloody-well die trying.”  A quick dip, tuck, sneak and Spike was behind Xander, squeezing his backside.  “Only bum I want.”

With a squeak, Xander extracted himself, not fast enough to avoid the counter-attack, and Spike spun him into an embrace, kissing him passionately before he could protest.  The briefest resistance, and then Xander was kissing Spike back, one hand fisting in the vampire’s hair, the other at the base of his spine, hardening cocks brought together with slow burning friction.  Intense desire within the bond, and Xander’s Spike-fogged brain raised a half-hearted objection to this behaviour.

“We can’t.”

Xander tried to pull away.

“Going to fuck you till you pass out,” Spike promised.  “Going to fuck you till I pass out.”

“We have to wait.”

“Ah, come on, Xander, they’ve been at it for hours.”

“We don’t know that.”

“We can feel them.”

“Maybe they’ve just been horny for hours, doesn’t mean they’ve done anything about it.”

“You can be such an innocent.”  Another wave of lust through the bond and Spike shivered.  “It’s obviously more than horny, this is them scratching the itch.  Filthy-minded, randy, little…”

“Leave Jake alone.”

“I wasn’t talking about Jake!”

“We’re being patient, okay?  Think about something else.”

Spike did.  Resentfully.  Bringing one of the boxes over to the sofa, he morphed into his true appearance for the few seconds it took to split the layers of tape with his claws.

“Do that again,” Xander told him as he came to sit close by.  Spike did as he was asked, and Xander studied the sharper features.  “You are…  You look fantastic, Spike, more impressive than ever, and so damn sexy,” was the verdict.  “Despite the not thinking about sex.  Not thinking, nuh-uh.”  Spike’s eyes closed in pleasure as Xander’s fingers delicately explored the demon’s pronounced features, subsonic purr vibrating through them at every touch, breaking into audibility as Xander leant forward for a gentle kiss.  “Want you,” Xander groaned.

“Have me, love.”

Xander almost buckled at the sweet and simple invitation, groaning again for entirely different reasons as he forced himself away from Spike, very deliberately focusing on the recently opened box as Spike shook his game face away.

“We can do this, we can...  The box, the box, what’s in the box?”  Xander peeled back the cardboard flaps and began to rifle through the newspaper-wrapped objects.  “What’s in the box?” he muttered to himself.  Once again the bond was flooded with lust and Xander slapped the box shut.  “This is…”  A coarse noise of unbridled frustration exploded from him as got up to pace.

“Jake must have picked up a few tricks over the centuries, Red’s obviously exploring his repertoire.”

“Willow said she thought they’d be friends.”

“She obviously underestimated just how friendly they’d be feeling.”

“It’s something to do with what happened,” Xander announced with absolute certainty.  “Whether it’s Repossession, or the belonging, or the bond, but we’re meant to be getting it together too, that’s why it’s so urgent.”

Spike nodded thoughtfully.

“That, and the fact we can never get through any twelve hour period without at least one pair of matching orgasms.”

They stared longingly at one another across the room.

“I just want to be able to touch you,” Xander said weakly.

“Right.”  Spike picked up the nearest phone and went to the memory.  Seconds later: “Hello, mate, need to speak to Willow.”  Xander considered putting a stop to this invasion of his friend’s privacy, but wanting Spike overwhelmed any attempts at propriety.  As he wandered back to the hallway to pick up the duster, he smiled at the last few words that he heard.  “Now, look here, Red, God forbid anyone should accuse me of being indelicate…”

Coat on the newel post at the foot of the stairs and Xander kept going up, wishing he was tired so he could sleep the sluggishness away, enjoying the communing he felt within the bond but wanting his privacy back; although he was curious to know if anyone had felt something out of the ordinary when he’d barbequed the demon, it wasn’t the kind of curiosity that inspired him to pick up a phone and ask, it was more the mind-curdling terror type that required denial in large quantities.  Movingswiftlyon…  More curiosity, and he knew he should be eager to sort through the Sunnydale boxes, but he didn’t have the energy to cry over the thought of losing Spike for five years and he was certain that would happen.

Xander sat on a stair and sighed, aware of Spike’s voice, aware that if the news was as positive as he’d hoped his partner would be off the phone by now and dragging him up to the bedroom, possibly by the excess of hair that was driving him crazy.  The plodding of hound reached his ears momentarily before Hamish made his entrance, and there was yet another thing to wonder about: how did that dog manage to open the back door?  Not just the back door but the back back door?  Okay, maybe the conservatory door had been left open, but…

“It’s possible that you’re all that’s left of the inexplicable weird,” he told Hamish as the wolfhound came to sit at the foot of the stairs, licking its greasy chops as it gazed at him, apparently waiting for great words of wisdom.  “Not where you came from and how you got here, just…  You.  You’re…weird.”  Hamish, evidently fascinated by these revelations, inched two inches closer.  Xander’s brow furrowed.  “And you tried to save William’s life.  You, or your great, great, multiple-great grandpa.”  Xander slapped his thigh and Hamish bounded up the stairs to him, treating him to a cold nose sliming across his neck before seizing the thick bunch of tied hair just below the band and senselessly chewing at it.  “See?  Weird.”

A glint of metal caught Xander’s eye, and he rummaged in the wayward fur of Hamish’s neck, uncovering a thin band that pretty much matched the family’s platinum rings.

“She sent you.  Should’ve guessed.  Should’ve guessed.”

 

Spike joined them, lightly smacking Hamish across the flank to make him move and sitting alongside Xander.  Xander looked the question.

“Can we please wait?” Spike sighed.

“Told you so.”

“They’re happy though, that’s a good—”  Spike stopped as Hamish rested his muzzle on the top of his master’s head with a contented grunt.  “Warn me if he starts to drool.”

“They’re happy?  You speak to both of them about it?”

“Willow, with running commentary from that git in the background.”

“I want this so much.”

Spike took Xander’s hand and squeezed.

“I know you do, we both do.”

“All do.”

“All do, yes.”

“This is…  I need something to take my mind off…everything.”

Xander stared hopefully at Spike and, as ever, Spike did his best to come up to Xander’s expectations.  A few minute’s deep thought that Xander, unable to keep up with the speed of Spike’s mind, caught the jumbled edges of, and Spike grabbed Hamish’s snout and removed it as if it were a hat, then stood and tugged Xander to his feet, leading him up the remainder of the stairs and to the studio.

“Sex,” Xander said mournfully.

“Apparently not.”

“This room reminds me of sex.”

Everywhere reminds me of sex.”

“Yes.”

“That’s not what we’re here for.”  Spike sat at the desk and waited for Xander to pull up another chair.  “I want to try something.”  He handed the phone over.

“Who am I calling?”

“Daddy.  Ask him to concentrate on his mum, how he remembers her best.”

“I don’t want to upset him.”

“Take the chance: he’ll be pleased if this works out.”  Xander stared at the phone, plainly uncomfortable.  “He can always say no.”

Xander made the call, being drawn into a general round of ‘How are you?’, ‘How are you?’, ‘How’s Spike?’, ‘How’s Beth?’ ‘I might have burned something to a crisp, yes,’ before Spike began impatiently tapping his pencil on the drawing pad in front of him; Xander moved on to apologetically telling Patrick what they wanted him to do.  Xander was quite surprised when Patrick agreed without hesitation and ended the call before Xander could launch into a full-on babble about why he shouldn’t feel obliged to; within seconds Spike was swamped by a flood of impressions, and he closed his eyes, absorbing the information for a short while before drawing blindly.  Xander experienced the same influx and watched with fascination as the ghostly image in his mind began to appear on the paper as a very real woman.  He almost bounced in his chair in excitement as the portrait took shape, stirring memories that came from who knows where; Xander felt the familiarity of the dark, well-shaped eyes, the line of the nose, the set of the jaw, the elegant neck, the flowing hair.  He trembled with excitement because even without knowing her he knew her, and that.  Felt.  Good.

After an hour of intense concentration, Spike sat back in his chair, exhausted.  Xander was on his lap instantly, kissing him hard and thanking him, congratulating him on his skill, thanking him some more.

“Sweetheart…  This is exactly what I need.  Thank you.  You’re so clever, thank you.”

Spike peered past his ecstatic lover to take a first look for himself, and he smiled in recognition.

“That’s…not at all bad.  Needs a bit of finishing, but…”

“Can I scan it and send it to Pat?  See what he thinks?”

“Course you can.”

Xander leapt up and was gone; Spike concentrated on stopping Patrick’s train of thoughts and was relieved that a pointed enoughenoughenoughenough did the trick.  It wasn’t long before more was creeping through, barely stifled emotions and broken scraps of memory, and Spike’s chest heaved a deep breath along with the older man, and another, and the emotional dam finally burst; Spike’s head fell forward onto his arms, crossed on the desk, and he keened in painful empathy as Patrick crumbled under the onslaught of feelings he’d let his boys stir.

“Don’t, don’t, don’t…” Spike could hear Xander whispering uselessly downstairs, and Spike made a dash for him, anticipating a sympathetic collapse and reaching his partner in time to stop him sliding down the study wall.

An offer of support and a comforting hug, and Xander was clinging to Spike; the vampire wasn’t about to pretend that this was one way consolation.

“Stupid idea,” he muttered regretfully as he bundled Xander into his arms and took him to the living room, heaving the pair of them onto the sofa, still entwined.

“He didn’t mind, you felt that, he was…happy…happy to…”

“Stupid idea.”

“Bad timing,” Xander contradicted shakily before returning to the, “Don’t, don’t, don’t…” that he pushed at Patrick with all the loving support he could muster.

It seemed an age before they felt Beth’s calming presence, and she seemed to accept her husband’s collapse with perfect equanimity, a faint element of ‘expected this’ tingeing her emotions.

Neither Beth’s acceptance, nor the wafts of reassurance from the remainder of the group, lessened the guilt.

“You know what pisses me off?” Spike asked.  Xander shrugged.  “The fact that they seem to expect it from us.  They know we’re going to be the ones to screw up and…”  Spike suddenly chuckled.  “They’d be right.”

“It isn’t…  Oh.  Yeah, it is, it is funny.  It’s…”

“Being known.  And what was it you said earlier?  We’re up, down, fighting, loving, and the rest, and they’re entertained.  More like immune if we’ve been carrying on like this forever.”

“I’ve loved you forever,” Xander murmured, the perfect introduction to contemplative silence.

Xander scanned and e-mailed the picture Spike had drawn to the MacDonalds; Patrick and Beth had evidently been waiting for it, and the immediate, effusive response was as overwhelming as the previous upset had been.  A message pinged into the computer’s inbox a minute later:

My clever, clever boys.   How I love you.

It was signed, simply...

Your father

...which left Spike laughing, and Xander teetering on the brink of tears.  Hugs and kisses later, Spike replied to Patrick, diplomatically asking him to choose a title for the portrait, wary of treading on shaky ground by suggesting he select a name for his mother.

Let the Heir decide.

“What’s it to be then, love?” Spike asked.

Xander, wearing his best troubled expression, stared at the portrait.

“I don’t feel like I have the right.”

“Daddy just handed it to you.”

“Handed it as in…”

“Successfully passed the buck.  And it’s stopped here, so make your mind up.”

“I’ll have to think about it.”  He smiled at the face in the picture and unconsciously twisted the ring on his finger.  “Her.  My grandmother.  I’ll think about her.”

Spike put Xander to bed.  Literally.  Threw him over his shoulder, carried him upstairs, and chucked him on the mattress.  With the minimum of fuss he undressed his compliant partner, tucked him under the covers, put a book from the dresser within easy reach and told him to stay.

Astonishingly, Xander stayed.

Spike started to leave the room, wanting to get back to the portrait, fingers itching to add the shading and texture, but Xander spoke before he could get a foot into the hallway.

“Have you started remembering?”

The urge to deny came and went.

“Yes, love.”

“Anything…solid?” for want of a better description.

“Mainly scraps.”

“Me too.  I thought I’d wake up today and just know my life.  Lives.”

The vampire strolled back to the bed, kneeling on the edge, and agreeing with a nod.

“Would’ve been hard, I s’pose.  Impossible even.  Dealing with everything at once.”

“But all these…”  Xander gestured to his temple, fluttering his fingers.

“Try concentrating on one, tiny thought, see if it expands to…”

Spike’s voice dropped away as he carried through his own suggestion, and Xander studied the changing emotions on his face; not the best of memories apparently, and why was that no surprise?  Taranis, that was why.  Bastard, Xander thought for the nth time.

“What is it?  What, Spike?  Where are you?”

“It’s…  Umm…  Dunbar.  The battle of Dunbar.”

“’Kay.  I’ll concentrate on that too and…”

“No!  Don’t think about it, we weren’t on the same side, we—”

“Who killed who?”  No answer.  “It’s all going to surface sooner or later anyway.”

“Then you can wait for it.”

“Hey…” Xander said softly, tone changing as he reached out to rub Spike’s knee.  “Know what I’m really worried about remembering?  After all we’ve obviously been through?”

“Preston Hill,” Spike replied in the same tone.

“You read my mind or just know?”

“I knew.  I’ve been trying not to dwell on it in case you picked it up off of me.”

“All these other fragments, they’re…real but not real.  That was…real.”

“But forgetting that wasn’t a part of the magical mystery tour, was it?  The attack was the reflection, but the forgetting was a…possibly physical, possibly psychological response to the damage.  Maybe you’ll never remember.”

“What if…”

Moving onto hands and knees, Spike crawled over Xander, lowering himself to place kisses on his lover’s brow and nose and mouth.

“We’ll do what we do, love.  We’ll deal.”

Xander pulled Spike down onto his body, the weight of his partner synonymous with security.

“I want that to make me feel better, I really do, but…”

“Then let it.  Stop looking for complications.”

“I’m not looking, Spike, they’re leaping up and beating me about the head!”  Spike slid to his partner’s side and waited for what he’d known had to be coming.  “There’s this presumption of being able to carry on as if nothing has happened, go back to work, get on with our lives, and…I keep getting back to ‘how the fuck…?’  ‘Cause even with my background, nothing has prepared me for this.  Nothing could.”  Xander sighed deeply, groping for Spike’s hand.  “I came to this place looking for normality, y’know?  Away from Sunnydale, away from slayers and witches, away from the people who’d brought me up to feel useless and insignificant.  Away from someone I loved so much that I wanted to give him my life and become…anything other than the failure I was.  I found it.  Normality.  For a while.  And I was almost happy.  I was…”  Xander shifted and looked at Spike.  “I’m so selfish, why don’t you tell me to get over myself?”

“What I want to say,” Spike began thoughtfully, “isn’t about you being selfish.”

“No?  Well, it should be.”

“How d’you fancy…us…being selfish?”

“Us?  I like us.”

“Think you could travel now?”

“The homing instinct…”

“Was about bringing everyone together for Repossession, not about living in each other’s pockets for eternity.”

“You think?”

“It better be, or there are several people I’m going to be killing on a regular basis for centuries.”  Xander laughed at that, and Spike felt as if he were winning this round.  “If normality is screwed, we need to do something you’d consider abnormal.  And when we’re finished seeing the world – ‘cause that was never on the cards, let’s face it – you come back here, and it’s coming back to…”

“Normality.  We could throw the cash around and hire a private jet so we don’t have to juggle when we travel, we could fit it up so on-board it’s always sun-proof.”

“Buy.”

“Yes, buy a jet, we could buy a jet.”

Now you’re thinking like a man who’ll live forever.”

“And we could tie the trip in with wherever Dawnie’s getting married, and the visit to Scotland everyone wants to make, and…”  Pause for thought.  “Spike…  Craig is a very…Scottish name, isn’t it?”

“Clan?” Spike grinned.

“You know or you guessing?”

“Guessing.  But if it’ll make you happier to go with coincidence…”

“I’m going with coincidence.”

“Thought you might.”

“No psyching him out at the wedding, not me.”

“Not you, no.  That’s my job.”

Xander chuckled, mind full of foreign lands and distracting possibilities; Spike gave him a kiss, slid off the bed, and attempted to make his exit.

“Spike…”

“Yes, love?” the vampire said with admirable patience.

“Do you feel cheated?”

Spike turned back with a frown.

“Cheated?”

“Of your – William’s – human self?  On Sleat…”

“You were right, that was me wanting to try something different.  I don’t want to be a human, even an immortal one.  I like what I am.”

Xander nodded.

“Good.  That’s…  Good.  Me too.”

“Sure?”

“God, yes.”

“Glad we’ve managed to establish that.  Now read your book, or sleep, or do anything other than prevent me leaving this room.”

“’Kay.”  Spike started to leave.  “Spiiiiike…”  Spike turned back with his meanest look.  “Night, baby,” Xander laughed, and Spike was gone.

The portrait was finished; Spike took one of the drawings of the house from the hallway and stole the frame, cleaning it thoroughly before inserting the new picture.  He sang continuously as he worked, trying his best to drown out the background noise that thankfully lessened as the night dragged on, only needing to hold onto the pleasantly odd sensation of mental warmth that represented Xander.

Once the frame was sealed, Spike took it into the living room and cleared a shelf of their rather nice maple and glass corner unit, positioning the picture carefully before collecting various odds and ends to accompany it for the desired effect.  A few candles, a dumpy little vase of flowers, something of Xander’s – the champagne cork with a silver coin wedged into it that commemorated his first great business success - and something of Spike’s – the diamond-studded watch that he’d pined for until Xander bought it for him (never worn, naturally) - and with the addition of three photographs – the two of them with Hamish, the old family, and the new family – the ‘shrine’ was complete.

He just needed a name to hang this whole tribute on, and he stopped singing long enough to think a reminder to Xander, only to experience a heavy dullness that felt alien and downright creepy, and had him flying up the stairs in a panic for the second time in twenty-four hours.

As Spike thudded into the foot of the bedstead and set eyes on his peacefully sleeping partner he figured it out: the bond was closing down.  He was surprised to feel a deep regret over the loss because, however much he cared for the people he was linked with, he’d not been able to get over feeling invaded, but now…

“Oh…fuck.”

Now.  Xander.  Sex.  Sexsexsexsexsex.  Xander.  And sex.

The clothes were ripped from his body and tossed away, and…

“Oh…fuck.”

…but not in the sense he wanted.  He had to take care with Xander because it would be a shock, the bond closing, he knew that.  Short and sharp, but a shock nevertheless.  Although there was the consolation of a wonderfully big fuck, Spike told himself as he pulled on his robe and tried to show a degree of consideration and…

“Oh…fuck.”

Xander stirred under Spike’s gaze, arm swinging to thud down onto Spike’s side of the bed; the hand groped, the man…missed.

“Spike?”

“Here, love.”

Dark eyes flicked open and took a few seconds to focus.

“What’s wro…”  Xander gasped in shock and sat bolt upright.  “What’s happened to them?  Oh, God, what did I miss?  They’re gone, they’re…  Spike!”

The vampire quickly sat alongside Xander and held the trembling form in place.

“It’s the bond, not them.  A little bit of normality, hmm?”

“It’s…it’s…  Oh…fuck.”

“That’s what I thought.”

“They’re okay,” Xander groaned as the sense of what had occurred fell into place and the tension left him; he slumped in Spike’s embrace.  “They’re…okay.  Of course they’re okay.  Normality.  Yes.  I get it.”

“Really get it?”

“Really,” Xander nodded.

Really?

“Yeah, I—  Oh.  Oh, yeah, I get it.”  Xander manoeuvred them into a hard kiss, tugging Spike closer still with handfuls of purple satin.  “I have…to fuck…you,” he told Spike between kisses, “Have to.  Want you.  Want you.”

“Can we remember?” Spike asked as Xander’s mouth dropped to suck on Spike’s neck, seeking the newest scar.

“Huh?”

“Remember?  The first time?”

Xander looked up, dishevelled and panting with lust.

“Huh?”

“I want to make this special.  Remember the first time.  We’ve seen death, now we need an…affirmation of life.”

Sitting back a little, Xander smoothed the satin flat, tried to compose himself and not just fixate on SpikefuckSpikefuckSpikefuckSpike.

“Think we can do that?  Be that specific?”

“I’d like to try.”

“Special,” Xander smiled, and Spike slipped away from him, around to his own side of the bed, wandering as he thought.  Xander fell back and stretched, closing his eyes and thinking too, trying not to be sidetracked by what he’d seen of his bedchamber in Dunscaith recently, but rather working on his distant memories.

Sun, wind, scent, sea.  William.  A place to start.  Home.

As effortless as remembering his own early days in Sunnydale; he was there, he was Alexander, he was…

“In bed.  Obviously, yeah, I know.  It’s a big bed, lots of blankets and…I think that’s a fur on the top.  Gross.”

“Would’ve been warm, love.  You probably didn’t feel so politically correct freezing your balls off in the Highlands.”

“I guess.  Where are you?  Can you tell where you are?”

Spike was concentrating, but it was difficult to fix the moment.

“No.  It’s just a jumble.  Keep going, I might catch up.”

“Okay.”  Xander sank deeper into the memories.  Inhaled.  “There’s a fire, I can smell wood burning.  Heat from the fireplace, that’s nice.  And…  A woman’s singing.  Not close, I can’t make out the words.  But I know this.”  Xander hummed some of the tune; a joyful smile broke free.  “I think it’s my…  My mother,” Xander continued, awed and fighting the growing emotion.  “It’s Moira.  She’s a bit out of tune,” he laughed softly, adoringly, bringing up a hand to wipe at the corner of stubbornly closed eyes that still couldn’t prevent tears from overflowing.  “It’s my mother.”  He drew in a ragged breath.  “She loves me, Spike.  I know she loves me, she tells me all the time.  Shows me.  I was always loved.”  Xander gave up: he wasn’t actually crying but the tears wouldn’t stop; he grabbed a handful of sheet to wipe his face.

“I can hear her.”

“Yeah?  Can you see where you are?”

“It’s sorting itself out.  Slowly.”

“Get in here.”

Spike let his robe fall to the ground and slid in beside Xander; they fumbled for one another’s hands and, once found, held on firmly; everything sprang into focus and Spike gave a brisk laugh.  “Well, bugger me.”

“This first,” Xander told him with a grin as he mopped up the last of the tears.

“A door.  You’re inside, Xander,” Spike’s voice was abruptly serious and intense.  “I know you’re there, and it’s where I’ve been headed for the last hour, I’m trying to find the courage.”

“You do though.  I’m just about asleep but I look up when the door opens, I lean up on my elbows and…”

“I walk in and…  I can feel my heart racing.  I can feel my heart.”

“You look scared.”

“I am scared.  I cross to the bed, and you just say…”

“Will?”

“…and the fact you sound a bit hopeful gives me courage.”

“You say…”

“I want to stay with you tonight.  I want to be with you tonight.”

“I don’t really understand the implications.  Still half-asleep, wondering if it’s a dream, ‘cause…  Will.

“Let me be with you?  Please, Xander.”

“I turn down the covers without a word.  And watch as…”

“I undress.  God, your eyes.  Burning into me.  You want me.”

“I want you.  I didn’t realise quite how much until this minute.  You get into bed and we turn to face one another.”

Their actions mirrored their words.

“I want to touch you,” Spike whispered urgently, “but I can’t…”

“Until I touch you.”

Xander’s fingertips trailed over Spike’s face, causing a soft groan.

“First touch in love.”

Under the covers Spike’s hand moved over Xander’s side.

“Your hand’s warm,” Xander smiled.  Their eyes opened and they focused on one another, the picture from their minds intermittently superimposing.  “You’re so beautiful.”

Spike leant in for their first kiss, mouths gently brushing until they were brave enough for more, lips parting, and they were tasting, learning, exploring.

“I brought a wrap of grease,” Spike broke the kiss to tell Xander.  “It’s with my clothes.”

“So we can…?  I wouldn’t have thought of that.”

“You wouldn’t have thought of this.”

“And what’s made you so bold?”  In the half-light of their bedroom, the firelight of the bedchamber, Xander met Spike’s eyes and saw the anxiety there.  “You think this is our only chance?”

“I think…that we may leave tomorrow and I’ll never see you again.”

Xander broke out of the memory, dragging Spike to him and squeezing tightly.

“Oh, God, Spike…  My Spike, not Will…”

“Yes, Xan, your Spike, I’m here.”

“I’m – I was – in love with you.  Alexander, in love with William.”

“I know.”

“And he – I can’t be honest because…it hurts so much.  We’re being split up and that’s going to break my heart.”

“It didn’t.  Think, love, it didn’t.”

“No?”

“We made the most of this night, didn’t we?”

“Why does this have to be so real.”

“It was real.”

“I…”

Xander was forced to loosen his hold, giving them room to kiss and Spike freedom to reposition himself, aligning their bodies and making Xander moan in appreciation of a sensation Alexander had experienced for the first time with William.  Spike lifted the covers to show Xander their rigid cocks rubbing together, and a shuddering breath announced how turned on the human was.

“Real, love, and what this night was about.”  Spike threw the covers aside and dropped that hand to Xander’s hip, pausing momentarily before giving in to the desire to touch the renewed appendage, grinning at Xander’s moan when he rolled the tight foreskin back and forth over the moist glans.  “Pretty cock,” he complimented.

“Fuck me.”

“Alexander did not say…” Spike began adamantly.

“Want to feel you, Spike.  I am so.  Fucking.  Sensitive.”

“You’re…”

“Everywhere.  That talk of inheriting each other’s strengths and stuff?  Maybe I got a demon’s lust, maybe I got certain enhanced senses, ‘cause…”  Xander snatched Spike’s hands away from him, inwardly trying to find where he left his self-control.  Not helped when Spike’s lascivious gaze travelled over his body and fixed on where their cocks were fractionally parted, yet still joined by glistening threads of pre-come.  “Jesus, you make me so horny, all you have to do is look at me and…damn!”

Xander began to pull away but Spike refused to let him go, bringing him back, bringing their bodies together, kissing him fervently as they slid against one another and swallowing Xander’s desperate whine as all restraint was lost.  The human tore his mouth away to gulp in air and mindlessly yell as his orgasm seemed to explode within every nerve and cell of his body, thrusting and bucking against Spike and spraying them both with copious amounts of semen, staying hard and even more sensitive to every touch as Spike growled and tipped him onto his back, shoving his legs apart and scraping the come off their bodies to use as lubricant, finding Xander so, so tight as he attempted to enter him with a single fingertip and almost losing it himself when he thought of penetrating that constricting space.

“Let me be inside you,” he whispered, and they recognised the words from the first time Spike had made love to Xander, recognised them from how it should have been in Sunnydale, knew they were the words from their first time on Sleat.

“Yes, sweetheart, yes.”  Xander jerked his body onto Spike’s fingers, hissing at the burn and jerking some more, fucking his body on Spike’s left hand as the vampire’s right scrabbled under the pillows for a tube of slick.  “Have me,” he gasped, “have me.”

“Need to…”  Spike snatched a tube from its hiding place and morphed to tear it open with his fangs, squeezing globs of gel over the fingers that were intermittently inside his lover, more over his own cock.

“Fuck me, Spike.”

“Have to be careful, love.  New body.”

“No.”

“New old body.  You’re so tight.  Alexander must’ve been the perpetual top.”  Xander laughed and spread his legs wider, offering and wanting, physically pleading.  “I don’t want to hurt you.”

Fuck me.”

Such frantic desire in Xander’s eyes and Spike couldn’t resist the impassioned demands any longer: he fell into place, trying to be gentle as he teased open the outer muscles and fingered the head of his cock into the clinging channel, sharing a mutual groan as he entered Xander’s body.  Inching his hands beneath Xander, he grabbed the highly grab-able buttocks and lifted him bodily, sliding inside at a gentle speed that was now out of Xander’s impatient control.

“Better?” he asked when he was fully inside, and the fiery look he received made him glad that he, for one, was immune to the ‘burn’.

“Want you.”

“You have me, Xander, you always have me.  You always have me and you have me…always,” Spike smiled.

“Kiss me, kiss me, kiss—”

Spike lowered and stretched out over Xander, rolling his hips and making the man beneath him squirm in delight, delicately biting up Xander’s throat and over his jaw, finding his mouth and stealing his breath away with kiss after ardent kiss.  Spike let Xander establish their rhythm, every movement feeling familiar yet impossibly new; grinning cheekily into the kisses as his hand was repeatedly smacked away when it tried to creep between their bellies and play with Xander’s enticingly responsive cock.

Xander’s hands fisted in Spike’s hair, and the vampire instantly knew what this was about: his mouth was guided to Xander’s neck, to the healing bite mark, and, whether or not Spike was trying to be cautious over feeding from Xander, his desire increased tenfold and he recognised a similar escalation in Xander’s excitement, his movements becoming more demanding, legs twisting around Spike’s to keep him close and bring him closer.  Xander’s head was flung back, neck arched, wantonly presented, and Spike began to fuck harder, faster, demon features distorting the human as Xander kept him in place, kept his lips, and finally his teeth on the scar, scoring and sparking a barrage of hoarse pleading.

“Want this?” Spike asked, trying to be rational in the face of Xander’s longing, trying not to be as irresponsible as they both wanted him to be.

“Want,” Xander gasped.  “This.  You.  Everything.”

A thought, and now human-featured Spike stopped moving and tried to pull back, growling as Xander’s fingers clenched.

“Oi, can you not pull out every hair on my head, you brutal little bugger.”

“Sorry, sweetheart.”

The fingers didn’t loosen.

“Xander!”

Now they did, and Spike gave himself some space.

“Who do you see?” he demanded, meeting Xander’s eyes and searching.

“Spike,” came the answer without hesitation.  “Spike.  My Spike.  Fuck, so gorgeous, will you…”  Xander bucked beneath him and Spike began to thrust again, watching Xander’s face flush with pleasure.  “Fuck me, Spike.”  Spike nodded, driving into the heat and loving the twitches around his cock that told him how close Xander was.  “Bite, the bite, Spike…”

“Bite,” through clenched teeth.  “Not feed.”

“Everything,” Xander pleaded, “everything.  Spike, I…oh, fuck, I…”

A fresh blast of scent, of Xander’s arousal at the moment of coming, was mind-blowing to Spike’s restored senses, and he knew he was losing control, felt the moment he lost it, was demon enough not to give a damn for the split second it took to morph and sink his fangs deeply into Xander’s neck.

The human’s orgasm was in his blood, rich and tangy and irresistible.  Spike swallowed, drew on the wound, swallowed.  He felt the shock to his system as he took nourishment straight from the vein, feeding as a vampire should, with impunity and without guilt, for the first time in over a decade.  Xander’s heat rushed through his body, and Spike could feel Xander’s untapped power uncoiling and crackling in his cells; a further draw, swallow, and every hair on his body stood on end.

More than sustenance, this was nectar, Xander’s blood, gifted with love, and flavoured with passion, adoration, worship.  Purity.  Xander’s unassailable purity.  Moaning and jerking as his own climax surprised him with its speedy onset and ferocity, Spike fucked and drew and swallowed, and Xander thrashed beneath him, working his body on Spike’s pulsing cock and being wracked by the spasms that accompanied every pull on his blood, out of his mind with the sensual bliss of this act.  Out of his mind, and that was what made Spike pause: it scared him, Xander being so out of control and literally screaming with pleasure, writhing, coming and coming and clawing at the vampire’s body in his abandon.

“Xander, love…”

“Don’t stop,” Xander begged hoarsely, “don’t stop, I don’t want you to stop.”

“That’s enough.”

“No!”

“I’ve taken all I need, I won’t risk…”

“Spike, please, Spike, please.”

Xander frantically objected as Spike pulled out of his body, and Spike had to drag Xander’s hands from his hair, gritting his teeth as he lost what felt like clumps as Xander refused to relinquish his hold, finally overcoming the human’s illogical strength and resistance and pressing his wrists to the mattress with a relieved grunt.

“Love?”

Xander more than stopped fighting, he collapsed: this was a complete and genuine state of collapse.  His frenzied demands crumbled into nonsensical whimpering, descending into broken sobs as Spike cuddled and shushed, understanding that Patrick had gone through this, that all of his humans would experience some sort of emotional breakdown once pressure was applied to the appropriate trigger.

A slight rearrangement and Xander’s mouth was on Spike’s neck, being encouraged to find the site of the consort’s claiming bite.  Spike held him in place and murmured soothingly as he bit down, weak now, as his semi-drained condition logically dictated.

“Didn’t think I could feel closer to you,” he told Xander lovingly.  “But you were right about this.  Part of me, aren’t you?  In me, a part of me.”  The potency of the blood he’d already taken fortified Xander; Spike felt the suction become more fierce, and unconsciously ground their renewed erections together until Xander paused long enough to gruffly mutter…

“Fuck me.  Bite me.  Feed.  Again, do it all again.”

…against the damaged skin.  Enough.  Basic sense dictated that Spike press Xander flat to the bed once more, and fuss him as non-sexually as possible until he passed out.

Spike purred as Xander drifted, asleep and awake, body trembling in fits and starts as it recovered from the vampire’s feeding.  Too late to wish he could read the human’s mind, Spike couldn’t decide whether this was something he and Xander would have to discuss or if a natural balance would be achieved when Xander wasn’t quite so overwrought, or desperate to ensure Spike fed from him exclusively.

A smile crept over the vampire’s face at the thought of his lover being everything to him, just as Xander had demanded and longed for.  Everything.  Well kept, well fed, well fucked, Spike burrowed further beneath the covers and into his partner’s semi-conscious yet automatic embrace, taking his turn to be held and cosseted.

“I’ve loved you forever,” Xander hugged and said, once in English, again in Gaelic.

“Mmm,” Spike agreed, and he let himself sleep.

 

 

Repossession 122       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

 

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