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Part 20

 

 

 

Angel stood as they entered, and Willow felt Spike tense, rubbing his back comfortingly where she knew only Xander could see the action.

“Spike.”  And Angel was smiling, yes, pleased, genuinely pleased to see him.

“Angel.”  That was okay, sounded okay.  Cool, but not too cool.

“You’re looking well.”

“Feel like shit,” escaped with a nervous laugh, and it hardly sounded like Spike.  Xander walked further into the room so he could take a look at his vampire, try to see how close to the surface William was and…  Oh, God, not now, don’t let it happen now, don’t let me lose him now.

“Hi, Xander.”

“Yeah, hi,” Xander vaguely acknowledged, paying no real attention to the older vampire as he tried to gauge what was happening with the younger.

“Xander,” Buffy said pointedly.

“Sorry.”  Xander turned to Angel, forced himself to stick out a hand and forced himself to smile.  “Angel.”  Angel took the hand and shook it, expression showing an unaccustomed warmth.  Family.  Ohnoohshitohfuck.  “Thanks for your help.  I appreciated it.”

“You were very welcome.  Any time you want to call…”

“Yes.  Thanks.  Got your number,” Xander finished tightly, getting away, back to Spike, taking another look and being met by a pair of amused blue eyes that had just wickedly enjoyed Xander meeting the in-law.

“Well, sit down, I’ve got wine and beer and coffee and chocolate and blood.  The all-tastes-catered-for canteen is open.  Buffy, come and help.”

“But…”

“Buffy!”

Willow left the room with a smile, a lesser-smiling slayer in pursuit.  Xander sat at one end of the sofa, Spike – hands-off – at the opposite end.  Angel settled back in the armchair he’d vacated when they’d come in.

“You wanted to see me?” he immediately asked Spike.

“Alone.  Later.”

Angel curiously studied his grand-childe, repeatedly scented him; Xander noticed Spike’s hand come up to do the neck thing.  Hate that.  Want to know the association with Angel.  Harris!  Neck, vampire, love, sex, go figure.

“How’s business?” Xander fell smoothly into schmooze-the-client.  “Find yourself working a lot of supernatural cases?”

“Fair amount.”

“So, what?  We talking Ghostbusters with attitude?”

Spike snickered.  Angel smiled, refused to be drawn.

“You should come and visit some time.  See what I do.”

Yeah, so going to do that.

Willow was telling me about the place you’re working from now.  One of the Fran Shorveno buildings isn’t it?”

“Shorveno?” Spike piped up and, by God, he’d only gone and learnt something from Xander’s books!  “Bit of a side-step for you, isn’t it?  What happened to crumbling old-world charm?”

“It’s temporary.  Not that I’ve anything against the…umm…”

“Soulless heap of metal sheets?” Xander offered.

“Not LA,” Spike corrected.  “It’s going to be shuttered concrete.  Throwback to London’s South Bank.”

“Shuttered concrete,” Xander agreed with a nod and a smile, so fucking proud of his man he could burst.

“The metal was Seattle, that bank…”

“With the waterfall wall.”

“That’s it.  Fortescue…Forsyth…”

“Have you met her?” Xander turned back to a thoroughly bemused Angel.  “Fran Shorveno.  I’m pretty sure she’s based in LA.”

“No.”

“You’d like her.”

“Frobisher.”

“Quirky.  She takes her inspiration from dead architects.  Literally.  House?”

“Gallery.”

“Frobisher Gallery.  She says they work through her, like, umm…” Xander raked through his brain for the right term.

“Automatic writing,” Spike supplied.  “But this would be…”

“Automatic drafting.  Of course, there’s no suggestion that the controversy hikes up the price of her work tenfold,” Xander grinned.

“I’d like to see that wall,” Spike said, almost to himself, as he remembered the picture he’d seen of the spectacle.

“We can do that, and if I arrange it through the Partnership then we’ll get to see it when the bank’s shut.  The same company designed a ceiling for a private client in Baltimore – Pat took me along to see it when we were on business there – and it’s like standing under a rainstorm, obviously without the whole soaked through and freezing element.”

“Right, so…”

“Everything okay?” Willow enquired hopefully as she entered the room carrying a tray of drinks.

“Fine,” Xander answered, helping himself to a beer.

“Angel was just telling us about his work,” Spike said with a teasing look at Xander.  “What am I, love?” he asked Willow as his hand hovered over the tray.

“There’s beer.  Or chocolate,” she smiled.  And then smiled again because this was Spike.

Spike bypassed the beer and went for the hot chocolate, settling into the curve of the sofa and sipping, free hand fidgeting with his neck.  He noticed Xander notice, stopped, started, stopped, put his mug down and left the room.  Xander moved to follow, became aware of the looks, sat back.

“Where’s Dawn?”

“She’ll be here soon.  She had to work late,” Buffy told him.

“Spike’s agreed I can bring you up-to-date with what’s happened, but I only want to do it once,” Xander explained distractedly as he waited for Spike to come back.

Buffy glanced at her watch.

“Twenty minutes tops.  Any longer and I’m going looking.”

“Y’know I’d almost forgot about living here, how dangerous the streets are.  Dawn’s not walking?”

“She finally bought herself a car.  Not quite in the class of yours but it runs.”

Xander refused to go with the oh-so-modest comments.

“You should see what I just bought Spike.  Jaguar Coupe.”  Oh, yes, that caught Angel’s attention.  “I know he’s a crap driver but I’m not letting him on the road yet.  Going to make him practise till the only thing keeping me alive is that damn chip.”

“He’s going to wreck it,” Angel pointed out.

“You could say that about anyone on the road.  I think he’ll take care of it.”

“New?”

“Oh, yeah.  Only the best for my baby,” Xander grinned.

“You’re putting Spike in a hundred grand’s-worth of car?”

Xander registered Willow and Buffy’s gasps at the price.

“That really what it cost?” Spike asked as he re-entered the room and flopped back onto his end of the sofa.  Xander smiled at him.  “Well, that’s going to put a very…teeny dent in the bank account.”

“Not even that.  Got a bonus coming in that’ll cover the car, the move, all the new stuff…”

Willow sat up in her seat.

“The move?”

Xander retrieved his camera and downloaded the pictures of the house onto Willow’s computer, telling them about it as he printed copies.  One eye always on his partner, Spike explained about the plans they’d discussed for their home – gym, games room, workshop – until Dawn arrived.  Hearing the vampire’s voice she rushed in, tossing her coat and purse aside she headed straight for Spike, leaping into his arms and kissing him squarely on the mouth.

“Spike-kissing?  I didn’t know there was going to be Spike-kissing,” Buffy protested.  “Xander, can you control your – your—”

“Boyfriend?  You can say it.”

“You’re well, you’re really well?” Dawn demanded, hands running over Spike’s hair and neck and onto his shoulders.

“No.”  The room fell quiet.  “No, I’m not well.  I’m just…weller.”  Dawn put her arms around him again, gently this time.  “Come on, Nibblet, no need to get maudlin.  Xander’s been waiting for you so he can explain.”

Dawn peeled away and went to Xander, hugging him too.

“Get yourself something to eat, Dawnie.  Then I want to get this over with.”

 

An hour later and Xander was still talking, trying to answer questions about William without making the whole business sound as bizarre as…well, as bizarre as it was.  Angel remained strangely quiet and that was troubling.  Spike had felt his grand-sire’s attention constantly on him and was forced to turn away; tucking one leg beneath him he sat facing Xander, left shoulder leant against the back of the sofa, cutting everyone else from his line of vision.  At one point his fidgeting had drawn Xander’s attention and the human had lost his train of thought completely when he saw what the neck obsession was about.  It was the chain.  Xander’s gift to Spike.  Now it was there Xander could see the pattern as Spike wound it around his fingers, time and again.  He’d worn it, played with it until he’d formed a habit so entrenched that he couldn’t stop the fiddling even when the chain wasn’t there.  It had taken Xander a while to get back on track.

As Xander spoke Spike zoned out, sick of hearing about William and his place in their life.  He sat in silence, contentedly fell back into playing with the chain, and treated himself to a good look at his lover.  My lover.  Mine.  He’s mine, Xander’s actually mine.  Hair: dark and silky, maybe a few grey strands at the temples, probably would’ve been cut by now if William hadn’t appeared and turned his life upside-down, but Spike approved, had always liked it longer and tousled.  The handsome face…  Mine.  …showed the stress that he’d lived with recently, eyes like luscious pools of melted chocolate but tired, so tired, however much sleep he got.  Almost angular shape to the brow, and the eyebrows peaked to emphasise the angles.  Spike loved the look, the shapes.  Permanent five-o-clock shadow, and that was something else Spike loved: the thought of that stubble dragging across his skin made him tingle.  Tempting mouth…  Mine.  …with a natural quirk that made him look like he was always ready to smile: the boy had lived up to the look, but a smile was often too much of an effort for the man.  Tiny diamond stud in his left earlobe, virtually invisible until the light caught it.  Strong, well-toned body.  Mine, mine, MINE.  Spike veered away from that direction, feeling his cock stir at the mental picture of his beautiful man, stripped down and…

Clothes, Xander’s clothes, yes, stylish, covering the great body.  White t-shirt beneath a brown moleskin shirt.  Slate grey jeans, cut to fit well but not to blatantly advertise the goods.  Suede belt, so dark a brown it was almost black; the buckle was rectangular, fake-aged bronze and had writing that was almost unreadable.  Spike squinted – grateful that William had been far as opposed to near-sighted – read, smiled:  ‘Advertise here’.  Following the well-shaped legs to the feet, the boots were dark grey leather, expensive, almost square-toed; the quirkily-fashioned heels added a good two inches to Xander’s height.  Spike knew where the boots ended, just above the ankle, and he wanted to touch.  Feel Xander, a part of Xander that no-one else would bother to stroke and love and claim.  Gesticulating as he explained something, Xander’s hands drew Spike’s gaze.  Hold Xander’s hands…  Mine.  …and they felt hard, tough, like he still made window frames and cabinets every day, but they could be so gentle and so tender…

“…Spike?”

“What?  Did you say something?”

“I asked if you’re okay?  You looked a bit out of it.  It’s not…?”

“No, not him.  Just thinking.”  About you, and you know it.

Spike’s mouth twisted into a hint of a smile, knowing Xander was regretting the ‘keep a distance’ edict.  Well, served him right.  Sitting about a mile away and looking too fucking gorgeous for words.  Too good.  Too good for Spike.  Spike: so far beneath him, so undeniably unworthy.  Straight-faced now, and Spike was rising, crossing to Angel, nervously asking to talk to him privately.  Willow offered her study and Angel left the room.  Spike watched him go, seeing in the walk, the swagger, that his grand-sire owned this patch, and he hated him for the confidence, for the rightness of him being here when Spike deserved nothing and Xander was too good for him.

Seeing Xander’s worried stare he went to him, laying a touch on his knee before following after Angel.

“Know what that’s about?” Willow asked.

“No.  He hasn’t told me.  But he has something on his mind and I guess that’s not a great place to be at the moment.”

“It’s not like he was ever up for the most-stable-vampire-on-the-block award,” Buffy said as she helped herself to another drink.  She stopped dead and looked guiltily over at Xander.

“Yeah, well, you got that right,” he simply agreed, and she breathed again.

“I hope there’s nothing building up,” Willow said anxiously.  “He’s way too well behaved.”

“Hate this,” Xander admitted after a few more minutes had passed.  Dawn went to him and sat close, wishing he was still the soft, emotionally squishy Xander of old, the one she wouldn’t have been wary of cuddling up to.  But he put out an arm and she gratefully snuggled up, feeling a heavy pressure around her shoulders as he held her, too tense to let his arm just rest.

“So you knew that Dru had fucked up?  Knew about William?”

“Instead of leaving you to lie when the demon took possession she kept calling for William, drawing him back to consciousness.  When you woke he was very much in evidence, which was what Dru had wanted so she was thrilled, she encouraged him.  But it appalled Angelus, and it’s one of the reasons for his callousness when dealing with you.  You, Spike, the demon, had to be strong enough to overwhelm William or you’d have ended up as insane as Drusilla.  Angelus had to knock the sense of humanity out of you, stop him finding ways to subvert you.”

“Don’t we all have a connection to the person whose body we took?”

“Not like your connection.”  Angel took another look at his grand-childe’s bewildered expression and sighed.  “But you didn’t know any better.  You didn’t know it wasn’t supposed to be such a struggle.”

“It isn’t.  Not usually.”

“Xander said that William accepts your behaviour.  William loves his demon.”

“Fuck, no.”  Spike determinedly refused to believe something he knew was true, wrapped his arms around his head and turned his back.  “That’s wrong.”

“I don’t know if it’s wrong.  But I do know what it says to me.”

“That Dru should have been staked at birth?”

“That she made a remarkable choice.”

“Yes.  I remember you enjoying her remarkable choice at leisure,” Spike taunted.

Angel chose to ignore the comment.

“There has always been something different about you, Spike.  To me it’s obvious that you’ve always been closer to humanity than other vampires.  It’s what fuels your fascination.”  Spike looked back, questioning.  “It makes you crave their warmth, eat their food, seek their company.  The presence of humans brings you comfort because it satisfies William’s needs.”

“How does he have so much control?  He’s weak, ineffectual…”

“You talk about him as if he’s a completely separate entity.”

“He is.”

“Then how do you know everything he thinks?  How do you know everything that happened when you retreated?  He’s a part of you.  Angelus hated it, hated him and his influence on you.  If Angelus beat you for hours and called you William throughout, that was who he was trying to subdue.  When he was punishing the demon he called you nothing at all.  Didn’t you notice?”  Spike shrugged.  “But you and William are not exclusively one and one, you are two halves of the same whole, presently ripped apart.  And right now, he allows you the luxury of retreat, he is your protection.”

“But…”

“Not weak, not ineffectual.  His instinct for preservation is why you’re here.”

Spike paused for thought before turning a frigid look upon his grand-sire.

“You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?  You’ve seen me like this before, this – this…divided.  That’s why you clammed up in there.”  Angel gave no answer, which was answer enough.  “Why haven’t you ever said anything?”

“If you’ve chosen not to remember it’s for a good reason.”

“But I need to know.  I have to know how to get rid of him.”

“That’s impossible.”

“Fuck me, who’s side are you on?”  Stupid question and Spike didn’t expect an answer.  He paced irritably for a few minutes.  “So, what do I do now?  His voice in my head drives me to distraction.  And—”

“Yes?”

“He wants Xander,” Spike muttered furiously.

Angel smiled.

“You have a shared focus to bring you together.  Use Xander to make the two halves whole again.  It worked before.  You gradually merged because of your feelings for Dru – a mutual desire to protect and care for her.”

“No.  I won’t share Xander.”

“Even with yourself?”

“I can’t.”

“If you refuse to take the gentler route…”

“I won’t share Xander.”

“Then do it the hard way.  You have to come to terms with whatever is causing you to retreat.  Face your fears.  Or you’ll always be broken in two and hiding behind William, and he’ll be the one spending time with Xander.”

“I hate you like this.  When you’re – you’re…”

“I’m trying to help.”

“Yeah, that’s it.  Bastard.  Smarmy bastard.  Can’t believe I have to ask you for—”

“For what?”

“For anything.  William’s doing this.  I don’t know how, but this is due to him, he’s making me vulnerable.”

“He doesn’t have that power.  The only thing you’re vulnerable to is your fear,” Angel ensured Spike, taking in the defeated slump of the other vampire’s shoulders.

 

There was a long stretch of silence.  Angel waited as Spike stared at the floor, building up to what he really wanted to say.  He stood by, fighting instincts that told him to help as he saw his grand-childe’s distress, heard the first traumatic breaths.

“They were humans, Sire,” Spike fell into the term of address without thought.  “Humans, and I was defenceless.  I thought I’d got used to the bloody chip, but this—”  Angel bit his tongue to prevent himself filling the brittle pause.  He knew he had to wait.  Not long.  “I’m…  I’m still…”  Spike’s composure crumbled as he forced himself to confront the memories of his captivity, relive the terror of being powerless to save himself.  “Fuck.  Fuck, I can’t do this.  I need Xander.”

He headed for the door, despair mounting with every step.

“Spike, wait.”

Spike halted but only momentarily.

“I need Xander.  I only feel safe with him.”  Spike threw the door open and headed straight to his human, too distraught to care about who else was present.  “Xander…”

 

Xander shrugged Dawn off and was on his feet, bracing himself for impact as his vampire hurtled into his arms and clutched at him with trembling hands.

“What did you do?” curiously calm Xander asked Angel over Spike’s shoulder, atypically accepting without question the shake of the head and turning his attention back to the vampire clinging to him.  “What’s wrong?  Spike?”

“I can’t…  Oh, God, Xander.  I have to tell you—”

The desperation in Spike’s voice almost put it beyond recognition and Angel felt the first inkling of how bad this was about to get.  He turned to the women.

“Perhaps it would be better if…”

“I want to understand this,” Willow protested.  “I’m not going anywhere unless Spike asks me to leave.”

Angel looked beseechingly at Buffy and Dawn but their faces showed the same grim determination as the watcher’s.

“Then you stay quiet,” Angel told them, tone hardening, making sure they knew.

“You can tell me anything,” Xander cajoled, oblivious to the other dialogue within the group as he fixed his attention exclusively on Spike.

“I can.  I can tell you.  I have to – to…tell you.”  Spike broke away from Xander, pacing the length of the room and back, shaking uncontrollably.  “You’ll forgive me?” he asked, first Xander, then Angel.

“I’ll forgive you anything,” Xander assured.

“Spike,” Angel said quietly, “you can tell us.”

Spike nodded hard, walked away, back, away.  Game-faced, human, furious, hurt, ashamed.

“Humans.  Fucking, fucking humans and I couldn’t defend myself.  When I was capable of thought I kept thinking…kept thinking, Red’ll miss me, she’ll try to find me.  The Slayer, fuck, maybe not, but Willow, Dawn…”  He looked, couldn’t look at Angel.  “Maybe if they’d told you.”  Xander.  “Knew they wouldn’t tell you.  ‘Cause even after four years, six months, one week and three days you’d come running.  I figured it out, Xander.  They wouldn’t tell you.  So no-one was ever going to come for me.”

“We couldn’t find you,” Buffy and Willow said at the same time.

“We looked for a long time,” Willow continued, trying to ignore the warning glare Angel was giving them.

Spike frowned at their assurances, unable to comprehend that they had indeed cared and searched.

“Tell us,” Angel said once again.

“I can’t, I can’t, it’s just…”  The younger vampire sped back to Xander.  “You’ll forgive me?”

“Anything.”

Spike flung himself back into his pacing.

“I was – I was…”  Fell still, took several massive breaths.  Turned away, hands clenching, unclenching.  He had to get this out and he let the words pour.  “Beaten.  And cut, and shot.  Electrocuted and impaled and frozen.  Poisoned.  To see how close they could come to killing me without killing me and then they’d pump blood into me to make me heal and do it all again.  Enjoying it – enjoying it – too much to just let me die.  And those fucking soldiers.  Getting so excited when they thought of some new torture.  Y’know?  Excited.  Pacing.  “They kept…  While I watched, breaking my wrists and fingers and my ankles, even when I did what they wanted, even when I tried to be good, snapping my forearms and my wrists and every finger while I watched, forcing…” he scrabbled in his pocket and withdrew the vicious chunk of wood he’d pulled from his throat “…forcing this in…” and he touched his neck in illustration “…to stop the screams, to stop…”  Away and back.  “The begging.  It was never going to end.  So I begged them.  I begged that scum to let me die.”  Away.  “Humans.  Fucking humans.”

He returned to Xander, unable to meet his eyes, pressing the wood into his palm and clinging to his hands for a few moments before pulling away again.  “I can’t do this, I can’t…  They peeled off my skin, they tore out my nails, tried to tear out my fangs…  I see it, feel it, I remember…  Trying to push my guts back into my body, split body, with broken hands, frozen hands.  All pain, and I was bad and stupid and evil, and everything was pain and it was never going to stop, the chip could do nothing worse, fire inside and I hoped it’d kill me, damage my mind so I wouldn’t know but it didn’t, it was just more, so I fought until they pulled my arms and legs out of the sockets to stop me fighting and – and – the doctors, those fucking monsters, were enough, pretending it was straight, carving out bones for souvenirs, but they didn’t know about the night shift, the soldiers, the soldiers alone…”  Another touch to his throat.  “I couldn’t tell anyone, I couldn’t beg them to stop, I couldn’t beg the doctors to make them stop and…  Humans and I was defenceless, humans with their souls and their compassion and their empathy and their holier-than-fucking-thou…

“But it’s not enough to strip the flesh, joking, one long piece like peeling an apple, not enough to stick thumbs in eyeballs until they pop, not enough to…  Nothing quite as fucking sexy as killing off a mind, killing off a spirit.  Arms out of sockets and skin in shreds and they blinded me, blinded me, kept blinding me.”  Spike pressed his palms over his eyes, blind again, and if he didn’t see Xander’s face he could say it.  “Blind.  I heard their laughter, felt their hands, smelt their stench and tasted…  They…they…”  Away, back, gasping, hands roaming over stomach and sides.  “Cutting new channels to use and…”  Enough!  Back to Xander to be held.   “I couldn’t stop them.  I tried to be strong.  For you.  It was never going to end.  Fucking humans and I couldn’t stop them.  It was never going to end.”  Spike wept icy tears that soaked through onto Xander’s shoulder.  “Forgive me.”

Xander wrapped Spike in a vice-like hug, feeling numb and useless and sick, accepting that any attempt at comfort was going to be woefully inadequate.

“There’s nothing to…”  He saw Angel trying to catch his eye; ‘forgive him’ the older vampire mouthed.  “I forgive you,” Xander promised with a shaking voice.  “I forgive you.”

Minutes that felt like hours passed, the friends shocked into a silence that was only broken by Spike’s laboured breathing.

Willow, Dawn, Buffy, pale-faced, tearful, exchanged haunted, helpless looks, the slayer vacillating between sorrow and barely contained fury.  Angel’s eyes blazed with unfathomable rage, and it was all he could do to contain the full force of his demon: this was his childe.  The revenge he had taken now seemed gentle and forgiving, and he wished he had restrained himself until he’d had a chance to review the situation and do the job…properly.

It hurt to turn their attention on Spike, on Xander.  The vampire’s face was hidden from them, but Xander’s was exposed, and it explicitly reflected the horror of what he’d been confronted with.  What he hadn’t been able to protect the person he loved most from.

Eventually Angel fought back his anger and took a step forward; Xander reluctantly loosened his grip.

“Can you…?”  Spike hesitated, accepted, nodded.  “Sure?”

“What broke you and William apart?” Angel asked softly.

“No.”  Clinging to Xander again.

“What broke you…”

“No!”

“Face it and heal.  What happened?”

Spike swiped the tears from his face and turned to Angel.

“I tried not to,” Spike offered.  “Tried to protect…tried…”

“You tried to protect William, I know.  You always did.”

“But they showed me.”

“What?”

More memories.  More desperate gasps hanging in air that crackled with tension.

“They showed me.  The tapes.  The pictures.  Of what I’d done.”

“What had you done?” Angel gently pressed.

“In a fit of madness, they said.”

“What had you done?”

“Destroyed everything that I existed for.  In a fit of madness.  And they showed me the proof.  I couldn’t remember.  And I felt mad.”

“What did they show you?”

“I saw the tapes.  You died by my hand, Sire.  So did Drusilla.  Pictures.  Willow, Dawn, Buffy…  In a fit of madness and there was the proof of what I’d done.”

“They told you you’d killed us?”

“I killed you.  I killed…”  Spike’s head dropped and he began to lose himself to the horror, body folding around the agony inside him as it all became too real.  “Xander.  They said I killed Xander.  They showed me.  They said I killed…”

Xander caught him, forcing his head up.

“Look at me.  Look at me, Spike.”

The alarm in Xander’s voice broke into the vampire’s misery and he did as he was told, face showing the wonder when he saw Xander, alive, well.

“Xander,” the relief in his voice was palpable.

“Yes.  You would never hurt me.  Us.”

“Xander.” Trembling hands reached up to touch Xander, tracing his brows and cheekbones and lips. “Xander…” Spike whispered, “I would die before I hurt you.”  The hands ran into Xander’s hair, cupping the back of his head and persuading it down.  Xander let Spike kiss him, something he’d promised himself would never happen in front of his friends.  But now, any such resolutions seemed ridiculous and shallow, and he forgot everything beyond his vampire, needing the comfort of this contact as much as Spike, bereft when the vampire’s mouth left his far too soon.  “Love you, Xan.  Always.”

“I love you.  Always.”

“Can you?”

“Can.  Do.  I promise.”

Xander returned Spike’s kiss, tenderly, trying to convey the depth of his adoration; his hands stroked the rigid muscles in Spike’s neck and shoulders, and felt the trembling of Spike’s body as he tried to relax.  The vampire broke the kiss with a gasp, keeping his eyes tightly closed and leaning his brow against Xander’s.

“Never hurt you.”

“I know.  I trust you.”

“Trust.”  The word was no more than a sigh, and it dissolved into more tears.  “Xander…Xander…  They took everything that was yours.”

Xander hugged Spike close again.

“Nobody has that power.  See, I learnt, growing up.  People can beat you and abuse you and scare you, but they don’t have the power to take away what you keep inside, what’s in your heart.  What’s inside us is pure, Spike.  Nobody can touch us.”

“No?” Spike asked weakly.

“No.  Nobody can take away what’s mine.  You’re mine.”

“Yes.”

“And I’m yours,” Xander pledged before dropping his voice.  “I love you.  My sweetheart.  I love you so much.”

Xander knew the last words were inaudible to the woman, hoped that Angel couldn’t hear them even with his enhanced senses.  After being so exposed, Spike deserved a little privacy, deserved words of love that were his alone.  Resting his cheek against Spike’s cool temple he held him tight, gently rocking and soothing, until Angel’s movement caught his eye and he looked directly at the older vampire to see an expectant expression.  Can’t cope with any more, can’t do more, Spike can’t…  Spike has no choice.

“Spike.”  Angel’s voice was hushed, aimed at his grand-childe’s sharp hearing.

There was no sign that Spike had heard, and a glance from Angel to Xander made the human press his lips to Spike’s ear.

“Talk to Angel,” he said softly.  “Can we try and finish this?”

Spike stirred and sighed, burrowing closer.

“Spike,” Angel finally caught his grand-childe’s attention once more, having guessed why Spike needed to see him but wanting to hear it directly from the younger vampire.  Xander watched Spike’s expression change: the hard-found contentment slipped away to be replaced by trepidation.

“Do this,” Xander murmured.  “Get it over with and let’s go home.”

“Spike,” Angel persisted.  “You’re still afraid?”

With great effort Spike tore himself away from Xander and faced Angel, taking a few steps in his direction, steeling himself for the admission.

“Frightened.  I’m frightened.  When I’m alone, when it’s dark, when it’s too quiet.  Without…without Xander.  I no longer have the pride to prevent me from telling you.  Or the pride to stop me…asking you for help.  Sire.  Angelus.”

Angel sighed in relief: that would do, it was enough.  He studied his beautiful boy: Spike looked so forlorn and hopeless.  Morphing into his demon face Angel slowly walked to him, giving him ample time to flee back to Xander, but Spike stayed put, glistening eyes never leaving Angel’s until his face was tucked into the neck of his grand-sire, his body enveloped in the powerful, protective embrace it had not felt in over a century but could not forget.  This was an ancient refuge and it was right.

“If there’s a solution, I’ll find it.  Whatever it takes, I will have that abomination out of your head.”  Spike pressed harder into Angel and keened mournfully, the heartbreaking sound barely audible to the others in the room yet scraping over Xander’s nerves like nails on a blackboard.  “Xander,” Angel asked matter-of-factly as his human features were restored, “have you taken him yet?”

Xander stared, open-mouthed, not sure whether to be more infuriated or embarrassed.

“I’m not going to have this conversation…” he tailed off, gesturing to the women.

“Because if you haven’t, you need to.  You have to take him back from the humans who assaulted him.  You must claim him.”

“In his state of mind, it would be no better than…”

“If you don’t, I will.”

Xander was momentarily stunned by Angel’s assertion.  Then it was a question of dismissing it or dusting the bastard.

“Yeah?  And how would sir like his stake?”

“If you don’t,” Angel repeated pointedly, “I will.”

Angel ran a loving hand over the back of Spike’s head, deliberately designed to stir Xander’s possessive streak.  With the exception of its owner, everyone in the room was aware of Xander’s hand unconsciously but instinctively moving to the back pocket of his jeans where a stake had lived for years.

“Let him go,” Xander demanded, voice low and cold, the murderous look in his eyes something Angel could appreciate and admire.  “Don’t.  Touch.  What’s.  Mine,” the human spelt out dangerously.  Angel opened his arms; Spike stayed put, far too passive for Xander’s liking.  “Back off,” Xander said quietly, and something in his expression must have warned the vampire that things were going wrong because the games stopped; Angel carefully removed Spike’s arms and took a step away.  Spike sank into the position of submission at Angel’s feet and his grand-sire had the good grace to look horrified.  No, no, no, no, NO!  “He’s going into retreat,” Xander told Angel quickly.  Don’t want to lose him, don’t want to lose my Spike.

“William shouldn’t see me.”  Angel immediately gripped Spike’s shoulders, hauled him upright, and turned him to face Xander.  “Spike, go to Xander.”

 

 

Repossession 21       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

 

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