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Part 35

 

 

 

“I’m in bed with a dead body,” Xander said as he gazed lovingly upon the aforementioned corpse.  “This is exactly how I saw my life.  I’m sure there’s an entry in a year book that quotes me as saying that one day I want a challenging job, a cool car, and a dead body with PTSD in my bed.  Almost sure.”  Xander stroked the placid face.  “Vampire with PTSD.  How the hell did that happen?”  William.  That’s how it happened.  Spike’s humanity. 

Xander rolled onto his back, not wanting to think about William and how he’d suffered, not wanting to relive any of this latest long stint of not having Spike; he furiously resented the hex however necessary it was, hated being unable to talk to his vampire, and it was often the silliest, most insignificant moments he wanted to share because Spike appreciated them in the way Xander appreciated them: it was one of the commonalities that shouted, ‘Spike and Xander are perfect together,’ from the rooftop.

Happy memory, happy memory…  Oh, wow, yes.  Xander smiled as he remembered

Home from work early, Xander checking on Spike and finding him still fast asleep, going back downstairs and switching on the TV, sitting on the sofa to watch.

Ten minutes later Spike appears, dressed only in Xander’s robe.  Wordlessly he heads for Xander, undoing his pants and easing them down to his thighs before sucking him hard and climbing aboard.  Xander loves him this horny, when he’s so hard, so perfectly erect in the truest sense of the word, his cock flat against his belly.  Damned sexy to see that and know he’s the cause.  Having already prepared himself, Spike rides Xander enthusiastically until they both come.  Spike climbs off, cleans Xander up and rearranges his clothes, then walks away.  Stops and turns at the door.  “Hello, Xander.”  With that ‘fuck me’ smile of his.

Xander knew he shouldn’t be thinking thoughts like that prior to waking Spike, that it would be wrong to bring him back to a room thick with pheromones and lust.  Happy memory, preferably non-sexual happy memory…  Surely we’re not only happy when we fuck…  Oh yeah, oh right…

Spike, feeling a little more confident in the garden by himself if he stays close to the light of the house, not realising he’s being spied on as he picks flowers for Xander, singing sweet, schmaltzy songs as he goes, returning to the house so cold…

‘Jesus, Spike, you’re one cold…’

“No!”

Xander rolled back to Spike’s side, pulling down the covers, putting his mouth over that place on the flat stomach, kissing it better, kissing away memories that made him want to scream with fury and destroy and…  I’d kill him.  If I got my hands on him I’d kill him.  Xander took a couple of deep breaths.  He’s dead.  I’m going to regret that for as long as I live.  He’s dead and not by my hands.  He sat up, readjusted the covers, glanced at Spike, at the clock, at Spike.  It was no good, he couldn’t wait any longer.  He had to see those sharp blue eyes study him and fill with adoration, he had to hear the rich tones of Spike’s voice assuring him that all was well…  Maybe a little over-ambitious with what I want to hear.  …or at least that things weren’t quite so bad.

“Okay, I hope you’re all slept out for the moment because I need to wake you up and feed you.  You’ve lost weight so fast it’s scary, and there’s no way I’m letting you go back to how you were when you first got   here.”  Xander laid out the pad with the words to end the spell.  “I hope you’re feeling better.  Stronger.  I hope…”

Xander took another deep breath and recited the words, waited impatiently for signs of unlife.

“This is where it all goes wrong.  Our life can’t be simple, so there’s going to be a problem and I’ll have to go running off to Willow or Angel or fuck knows who and it’ll turn out that I screwed this all up and I fried your brain or—”

Spike stirred and stretched, relaxed, stretched again.  An arm flopped in Xander’s direction and he caught it, kissing the hand before clutching it to his chest.

“Xander,” Spike whispered.

“Hey, sweetheart.”

Spike’s head turned toward the voice and his eyelids slowly dragged themselves open.  A few blinks and Spike was abruptly awake, looking around.

“This is…”

“What?”

“I expected to be at the apartment.”

“The apartment?  But you do remember the house?  Being here.”

“Yeah, it was just…”  Spike shook his head and turned his attention fully on Xander.  “That was a hex.”

“To let you sleep without dreaming.  You didn’t dream, did you?”

A long moment’s thought.

“No.  I was vaguely aware of being with you, and feeling safe, but I didn’t dream.”

“Good.”

“You shouldn’t be hexing me, Xander.”

“You did know about it, and I didn’t know what else to do.  I wasn’t going to risk the sun thing again.”

“Sun thing?”

“I’ll explain later.  Right now I’m going to get you some blood.”

Xander rolled off the bed and headed for the door.

“How long was I asleep?”

“Two-and-a-half days.”

“That would explain why my gut thinks my throat’s been cut.”

“I won’t be long.”

“Gimme a hand here, I’ll come down with you.”

 

With a little help from Xander, a freshly dressed Spike wobbled to his feet, then let himself be half-carried to the kitchen and plied with mug after mug of blood.  Xander watched the effect of the intensive feeding, grinning as his vampire filled out before his eyes.

“Makes you wonder how William managed to get around at all,” Xander pondered.  “He was so thin.”

“William?  What William?” Spike asked defensively after a slight hesitation.

“Well…  Your William…”

“Yes.  So?”

“No, I meant…  In a possessive ‘your’ as opposed to a ‘you are’, but that isn’t…  Your William was here.  After what happened…y’know…with Ri—  With those bastards.”

“That was me.  I came to you, that was me.”

Somehow Spike’s protestations didn’t ring true, but Xander was more worried by Spike’s deepening frown and the air of imminent panic; smiling and brushing the subject off with a gesture, he turned to heat up more blood.  Spike’s protecting William.  Surely that’s a good thing, must mean a leap towards integration?  He’s still unsteady but he’s shielding William.  Xander half-remembered a comment Angel had made when they were at Willow’s: something about Spike always trying to protect William.  Good?  Not good.  If he thinks that William needs protecting here.  Ignore it, give him a chance to get his head straight.  Okay, that was a plan.  But if William isn’t independent now…  That’s why the PTSD got so bad.  No William to take the pressure off Spike.  No William…  Realisation hit hard.  No William.  No more William.  I wanted them to be integrated.  No more William.  I didn’t say goodbye.  No more William.  Xander shakily topped up Spike’s mug, giving another smile that the vampire almost managed to return.

 

They sat and talked: about post traumatic stress disorder, which Spike automatically dismissed; about the sun thing, which Spike refused to believe; about the trip to The Dark Place, which Spike didn’t recall; about Xander’s uneasy truce with Angel, which Spike found more bizarre than anything else.  Xander allowed himself to bask in the false sense of normality, waiting resignedly for the onset of Spike’s symptoms: he didn’t have to wait long before Spike turned sharply toward the kitchen doorway.

“Did you hear that?”

“What was it?” Xander asked nonchalantly.  Spike opened his mouth to answer then shut it as quickly, shaking his head but retaining the anxious expression.  “We’re locked in, Spike, the security shutters are in place, we’re safe in here.”

“If a person knows what they’re doing they can get in anywhere.”

“But no-one wants to get in here.”  He stood and offered a hand to the vampire.  “Come on.”

“What?”

“It’s a long time since we patrolled together,” Xander grinned.  Spike stood and slipped his hand into Xander’s, shaking as he was led out into the hall and through the house.  “Can you imagine Buffy’s face if she’d seen us patrolling like this?” Xander joked, holding up their joined hands.

“The basement,” Spike blurted out as his grip tightened and threatened to crack several bones.  Xander pried the vampire’s fingers loose.

“Is secure.”

“Check.”

Xander checked thoroughly, repeatedly, as Spike watched.

“Like I said: secure.”

“Attic.”

Xander nodded, and together they went to inspect the attic.

Déjà vu.  Xander stared out at the evening sky and the twinkling lights of the town, knowing he had to make a move soon and wondering if he had the energy to cope with another night of Spike’s insecurity and paranoia.  The previous evening he had broached the subject of Spike staying at Willow’s for a while, where he would never be left alone for hours on end, and surely that…  He hadn’t had a chance to finish, suddenly confronted with a massive overreaction to the threat of desertion.  Two minutes-worth of words had taken three hours-worth of comfort to calm Spike and stop the irrational, non-negotiable panic.  Hexless last night: no longer enamoured with the idea of suicide, Spike was terrified Xander would dispose of him while he was helpless.  Xander was exhausted; Spike was exhausted.  Maybe someone could hex them both, let them sleep for a day.  Or a week.  Or for the foreseeable future.

Deciding to finish up some paperwork Xander returned to his desk, looking across to the office door as he heard a small commotion outside.  Then his door flew open and Spike swanned in like he owned the place, hotly pursued by Xander’s PA.  Spike?  Out?  Here?  Happy?  Hallucinating?

“I’m sorry, Alex, this gentleman wouldn’t wait.”

“Hey, hon.  Needed to see you in a hurry.”

“Cora, it’s okay.  This is the significant other.  Cora, Spike.  Spike, Cora.”

The older woman’s face turned scarlet.

“Hello, Spike, it’s good to meet you.”  More confidentially: “I am so sorry, Alex.”

“Don’t be, he’s not as bad as he seems,” Xander told her distractedly, unable to tear his eyes away from the thing of beauty that was his Spike.

Spike.  Here.  Well.  WANT!

“I didn’t mean…”

“Can you give us a few minutes alone, missus?” Spike asked the flustered woman with a disarming smile.  “Unless you want your education broadened?”

The door rapidly shut behind the retreating PA and Spike swept across to Xander, pulling him into a kiss.  The first in…how long?  A hard kiss with tongues and roving hands and major stirrings.

“What’s this about?” Xander panted between kisses.  “You seem…”

“Great.  I’m great.”

“So…?”

“I have to go away.”

“Away?” Xander’s voice was almost inaudible.  “But, last night, when I suggested…”

“To LA.  Seems like Angel might have made some progress.”

Going to Angel.  That’s why you’re so damn excited.  Angel.  It’s exactly what I wanted and now I don’t want it at all.

“Okay.”

Not okay, not okay, notokaynotokaynotokay.

“Come on, Xan, this might be what I’ve been waiting for.”

Xander made a supreme effort to rally.

“Well, yeah, of course, you go and…  Go and find out.”

“I’m so—”

Spike fidgeted away and back, nervous and hyper and positively glowing with anticipation.

“I can see.”

“Be pleased for me.”

“I am.  Just don’t get your hopes up, don’t let yourself be too disappointed if it doesn’t work out.”

“It won’t change us, I promise.  Well, maybe for the better.”

Spike threw his arms around his partner once more and Xander held on grimly, trying not to let this become the big goodbye in his head.

“How long will you be gone?”

“No idea.  I’ve got my phone, and you’ve got Angel’s number.”

Fuck!

“You’re going to stay with Angel?”

“Yeah.  Bit of a laugh, innit?  See if we can do this without killing each other.”

“You’re going right now?  Can’t wait until later?”

“Right now.”

“You don’t want me to drive you?  I mean, you’ve not been well.”

“I’ve been behaving like an absolute tosser, but today…today, I’m good.”  Spike hesitated.  “And I want to do this myself.  You shouldn’t have to do everything for me.”

“I don’t mind.”

“I do.  I can do this, you should be making me do this for myself.”

“I just want you to be okay.”

“Even now…  Xander, you let me be weak.  There are times when I need a kick up the arse as opposed to TLC.”

“Humour me.”  Xander was amazed that Spike stood still long enough for him to run his hands over the freshly trimmed hair, down the sculptured cheeks.  “Take care.”

“I’ll be back before you know it, and I am going to make it all up to you.  All the shit I’ve put you through.  I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”  One gentle kiss and the excitement was sweeping back.  “God, Xander, this could be it.  I could be whole again.”

“Remember I love you.  However it turns out, good or bad, I love you.”

Spike nodded distractedly, turned and left.

 

A split-second later Xander was outside his office door, watching Spike walk away down the corridor.

“At least pretend to drive carefully,” he called.  “And no smart-ass remarks to the cops when you get pulled over.”

Spike did an about turn and bounded back to Xander, planting a quick kiss on his mouth in front of the excessive amount of Xander’s co-workers who’d caught the rumour and turned up with fictitious reasons in order to catch a glimpse of Alexander Harris’ fabled squeeze.

“I promise.  I promise to pretend to drive carefully.  I promise not to reverse the charges when I call from the lock-up.  I promise not to corrupt the inmates or seduce the judge.  I promise…”

Xander shut him up by pressing a finger to his lips.

Don’t, don’t, don’t, don’t…

“Go.”

Spike kissed the finger and Xander dropped his hand.

“Message for the old man?”

Just ask him if he’s sure that Riley’s dead.

“The usual.”

Spike snorted.

“There’s only so far he can fuck off, mate.”

“You’ll ring me when you get there?”

“Yeah, course.”

Pause.  Hurts.

“Bye.”

“Bye, Xander.  Xander…”  Love filled the depths of the blue eyes; Spike started to speak, finally remembered where he was, stopped, went again.  “Gold Card.”

‘That card says I love you, and I will love you whatever.’

“Yes,” Xander smiled.  “Gold Card.”

 

Xander pursued the vampire with his eyes, clinging to Spike until, with a blown kiss, he disappeared behind the doors of the elevator.  Xander knew he was the focus of attention, knew he couldn’t keep the worried expression off of his face, knew that once upon a time he would have cared.

“Alex?”

Xander switched his attention to the woman now standing beside him.

“Cora.”

“I’m sorry about the mix-up, he wouldn’t say what he was here for.”

“Typical,” Xander smiled, and Cora stopped looking quite so anxious.  “You can always let him in.  But if I’m with anyone try to warn me.”

“Of course.  He seems…”

“Don’t try to finish that, it always leaves people floundering.”

“…to think the world of you,” Cora insisted on concluding.  She gave Xander her best smile and positively flushed with bias.  “And quite rightly too.”

Cora returned to her desk and Xander sighed, staring at the elevator for a moment before trying to drag his mind back to his work.  Dropping his eyes, he managed to get back behind his office door without making unwanted contact with anyone in the area.

 

Xander sat at his desk and let the concern and jealousy roll over him in waves.  In the end he couldn’t move beyond what he’d always feared, what he’d always known about Angel and Spike, sire and childe, bonds and blood.  This was a contest Xander was never going to win.

‘If you won’t, I will.’  But I did.  I did.  Not good enough?  Not enough?  Not Angel?  Not sire.

Angel.  Fucking Angel.

Don’t come to me after you’ve been with him.  Don’t pretend to want me when he’s bored with you again.  Don’t pretend to want me once he’s rejected you.

‘Never cheat on you, Xan.  Not my style.’  Yeah, right.  Even when it’s him?

Go.  Just go.  Live in LA, where you can have your precious sire whenever.  Just go.

Think I’ll want you after you’ve been with him?  When he’s tasted you and fucked you and usurped my claim and my mark has faded because you won’t let me near you and I loved to see it on you and know you were mine and it’s faded and I’ve lost you.

Think I’ll want you when all you can think about is his flavour and scent and how it feels when he’s inside you and how he’s strong enough to give you what I can’t because he wants the blood and he wants to see you bleed and you want to bleed for him?  Think I’ll want you then?  Think I’ll want you back?

Spike.

Sweetheart.

Please.

Come back.

The emptiness was brutal.  It had taken Xander a long time to get used to living by himself again after leaving Sunnydale, and it was going to take the same to get used to the house with only him in it.  He’d tried to convince himself that this break from Spike…  And it is only a break because Spike will be coming home soon.  …could be a good thing, a chance to relax after weeks of stress.  But.  All he wanted was Spike and the almost normal life they had happily shared before the PTSD kicked in and made all of the vampire’s most horrific memories into permanent threats and ongoing torture.  Almost normal sounds pretty damn good.

The answering machine was flashing: six messages.  Xander pressed the play button.  The first two messages were from Angel, trying to persuade Spike to pick up or ring back.  Then a call from Willow, asking Xander to call her to confirm whether he would be coming home for Thanksgiving.  She didn’t mention Spike, and Xander assumed she’d already known about Angel’s plans to lure his childe to LA.  Three more messages from Angel, each more impatient than the last, the final one becoming positively intimidating as either the older vampire’s patience ran out, or he gambled on being able to threaten Spike into answering.

“William!  William, this is your sire.  Don’t make me any angrier, boy.  You better pick up this fucking phone right now!”

Pause and a beep as Spike had obviously done what he was told.  But Xander knew – yes, knew – there was no way that Angel would mistreat Spike and had to chuckle at the message, saving it when he deleted the others.  Then it was back to the silence, emptiness, emotional trauma.  It was a big house.  Without Spike it was as dismally hollow as Xander.

Unable to eat, unable to concentrate long enough to watch TV or read a book, Xander wandered about the house, numbly studying the reminders of Spike.  However many times he told himself he was being ridiculous, he couldn’t get past the feeling of being in mourning.  I should be happy, ecstatic even.  This could be the end of the chip, the return of the Big Bad, and that should make me glad and horny.  Whatever happened to the mindless optimist?  Uh…he realised he was a handy stop-gap until the chip came out and the love of his life didn’t need him any more?

The phone rang; Xander jumped on it.

“Spike?”

“No, it’s me.”  Willow.

“Hey, Wills, how are you?”

“He’s gone then?”

“To LA, yes.”

“Isn’t it exciting?”

“Exciting, yes.”

“What’s wrong?”

No.  Way.

“You don’t really want to hear the pathetic missing him already stuff, do you?”

“Ah, maybe not.  Unless you need to talk?”

“I just need to get used to the idea of him being gone for…however long it takes.”

“Which brings us to Thanksgiving.”

“It does?”

“Are you coming to me?  It would be awful for you to be alone if Spike’s still with Angel.”

Must we use the A word?

“I…umm…yeah, okay.  What are we doing?”

“There’s the usual, and a party.  Do you remember Aileen Fortsky and Daryl Cromer?”

“From school, yeah.”

“Big, big party.  They just got married and bought a new business and they’re celebrating everything at once.  Aileen comes into the shop every week and she asked us all.”

“All?”

“Yes, all.  You’re not totally forgettable.  She remembers you blowing up the school.”

“Guess that means I’ll be frisked on the door.”

“By the time you’ve been without Spike for a week you’ll probably enjoy it,” Willow teased.

Hmm, tell Celibacy-Man about it.

“Any chance they’ll be there?  Spike and Angel?  Buffy will want the boyfriend around, surely?”

“You ask, I’ll ask, Buffy’ll ask.  See what we can do.”

 

Seeing what they could do was the little piece of hope that Xander hung onto.  Although there was always the chance…  No.  No, there wasn’t.  Spike wouldn’t be back before Thanksgiving.  Pushing the handset into his pocket, Xander went back to wandering.

“You can stop your pacing now, I’m here and the car’s in one piece.”

“Good drive?”

“Oh, yeah.  Love the Jag.  Did I ever thank you?”

“Frequently and in varied positions.  How’s Angel?”

“Usual insufferable self.  Hasn’t said much about what I’m here for and I don’t feel like pushing my luck and pissing him off.”

“You have to ask.”

“I will.”

“Worried about what he’s going to say?”

Pause.

“Yeah.”

“It can’t get worse, can it?  You have to ask.”

“Later.”

Xander wanted to offer to speak to Angel but he remembered the, ‘You should be making me do this for myself,’ and unenthusiastically supported it.

“How are you?”

“Are you asking how paranoid the flashback vamp is feeling?”

“Something like that.”

“Could be better, but there isn’t the same kind of association here.”

“Is that the problem with this place?  Because you only have to say the word and we move, wherever you want.”

“No, I don’t want to move.  That’s home.  That’s you and me.  But it’s like the pressure’s off now.  I’m distracted.  Looking forward to getting this thing rolling and coming home though.  I’m looking forward to you.”

Feeling better much?  Why the doubts, you moron?

“Did you go straight to Angel’s?”

“Picked him up at work.  That building’s something special, I wish you could see it.  I should’ve brought the camera.”

“Buy one.”

“We’ve got a camera.”

“No, it belongs to the Partnership.”

Spike snickered.

“Don’t you own anything?  Camera, car, house, all the Partnership’s.”

“Do you count?  Isn’t my claim…”

“Xander!”

“What?”

“Don’t play so soddin’ innocent with me.”

“Oh, have I started you thinking about how I took you and claimed you?  Sorry.”

“Bastard.”

“I better not mention how good it felt to break you open and fuck you then.”  Xander grinned at the whine.  “Or what it felt like to be slicked by your blood as I pushed into you.  Remember how deep inside you I was?”

“Wait, wait.  Shit!  Don’t let me buy any more button fly jeans.”

“But I like the button fly.  I like the way you’re revealed inch by inch when I…”

“Xander, shut up.”

“Okay, change of subject.  Do you want me to buy the house?”

“What I want is for you to be here, wrapping that wonderful hot mouth…”  Xander heard a knock and Angel’s muted voice.  “Yes, all right, shove off and I’ll be out in a minute.  Can’t believe this, I’ve got to go.”

“Call me whenever you get the chance.”

“I will.  Xander…I’m so sorry about everything, you deserve better.”

“I love you.  You’re all I want.  Can’t wait till you’re home again.”

“Your voice…  I’m so hard.  It’s what you do to me.  Only you.”

“Come back soon and I’ll do a whole lot more.”

Spike groaned.

“Can’t believe I wasted that time in your office today.  I’ve wanted you to take me on that desk ever since I first saw it.”

“Really?  So, when you get back…”

More mumbled words in the background and Spike shouted…

“Fuck.  Off!”

…in their general direction.

“Take care, Spike.”

“You too.  Love you, Xander.”

“Love you, sweetheart.”

Whine.  Click.  Sigh.  What was the problem?  He’s yours, you know that.  And you call him a drama queen.

Taking advantage of the positive emotions, which he knew wouldn’t last long because he often was, quote, a miserable bleedin’ git, un-quote, Xander made himself something to eat then settled down to ponder over what he wanted to buy Spike for Christmas.  Their first as a couple: he had to make it special.  He rummaged through a pile of bills on his desk in the study – one place Spike would never bother snooping as these particular necessities of life didn’t interest him in the least – and drew out the list he’d made over the last couple of months.  But there was something else…

Xander removed a folded sheet of printer paper tucked into the bottom of the pile and his heart thumped when he saw what it was.  He read:

‘My dearest Alexander.  I have but a moment to take my leave of you.  Our assimilation is almost complete and this is surely the last opportunity I will have to send you my regards.  Be assured that I shall continue to temper the demon’s impulses and your safety will always be of paramount concern to me.  My fondness for you will remain undiminished by time - perhaps in weeks or months to come you will recall that I am a part of every tender word and touch that Spike bestows upon you.  I thank you for your many selfless acts of kindness; we are indeed fortunate to have been blessed with your love and friendship.  Affectionately yours, William.’

Spirits plummeting once again, Xander blinked at the tears that stung his eyes.  Back to the irrational mourning.  It was going to be a long night.

 

 

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