Despite Xander’s hundred-and-one assurances, Spike insisted on accompanying him to the Preston Hill site that evening.  Xander had to view the site before holding a meeting with the architects the following day and this’d been the only time he had free.  So they drove to the house, dropped off the Jag, and Spike joined Xander in the Merc, celebrating their reunion by pinning Xander to his seat and giving him a thorough kissing.

“What problems did you have today?” Xander asked when he eventually prised the vampire off.

“I kept hearing things.  I know there’s nothing there, I know I’m safe, you don’t have to tell me I’m safe in the house.”

“How bad did it get?”

“Not bad.”

“Really?”

“Really.  I put music on and turned it up so loud that I knew if I heard something it had to be inside my head.”

“Did you hear more?”

Spike nodded.

“I felt better then.  It’s easier to deal with: knowing I’m delusional rather than thinking I may be.”

“You can always call me.  If you’re worried or jumpy.”

“I know.”

“But you won’t,” Xander gathered from Spike’s attitude.

“Not if I can help it.  I want to learn to cope.  Take the pressure off you.”

“When did it stop being getting better and start being learning to cope?”

“We off then?” Spike asked sharply, sitting upright and drumming his hands impatiently on his thighs.

Xander drew breath to speak but before he could form a word, Spike’s hand shot out and switched the CD player on.  Loud.  Xander got the message.

…

Xander had been told where the attack had taken place and he drove there, parking where he imagined he would have parked all those months ago but, of course, not knowing.

“Move the car, Xander,” Spike told him agitatedly.

“It’s okay, I’m not stopping, I just want a quick look around.  See if I remember anything.”

“Xander…”

“Not even getting out of the car,” Xander said soothingly as he turned the Merc around and parked again, this time facing the crime scene.  He stared out of the window for five minutes.  Hoardings lined one side of the road, houses boarded-up and ready for demolition lined the other; bleak but unremarkable.  “It’s just a street.  Doesn’t mean a thing, doesn’t…doesn’t connect in any way.”

“Good.  Drive.”

Xander continued to stare, ignoring the fidgeting vampire and his terse words.

“You phoned Jake today, didn’t you?  To make sure he met me?”

Spike hesitated.

“Might have.”

“Thanks,” Xander smiled.  “I appreciated it.  The reception was packed when we got to our floor.  Everyone was out of their offices and people from downstairs had come up and they started clapping and hollering when I walked in, and I almost looked behind me to see who was following me in and what all the fuss was about.  They were so pleased to see me and I didn’t get it.  I finally made it to my office and there were all the balloons and Cora wades in after me and she’s carrying this huge vase-full of flowers from her garden because she knows that I like flowers.  And I still didn’t get it.

“After I’d been left alone for about twenty-five, thirty minutes, Rafe came in to see me.  He was quiet, absolutely silent and he just looked at me and the balloons and the flowers, and I went to him because I could see how bad he was feeling.  He just hugged me, and - I know he’s always hugging me, he hugs all of us – he hugged me really tightly, still silent, and…he was shaking.  And I got it.  For the first time, I believed it.  I believed I almost died.”  Xander gestured out of the window.  “I almost died here.  If it hadn’t been for Sammy they’d’ve killed me.  Burned me.  That’s got to be a horrible way to…”

“Xander!  Move the fucking car!”

With a concerned glance at Spike, Xander nodded and acquiesced.

“Spike, I’m sorry, I…”

“Why d’you like flowers?”

“Do I have to have a reason?”

“No.  But it’s one of the things that intrigues me about you.”

“Liking flowers?”

“You usually have a reason for everything.  However obscure or bizarre it is sometimes, there’s usually a reason.”

“I…umm…  Okay.”  Xander accepted the change in subject and thought back.  “There was this…  You seriously want to know, or just seriously want me to shut up about the other stuff?”

“Tell me.”

“Well, there was this old guy who lived along from us and every day on my way home from school I’d see him working in his garden and stop to talk to him.  He used to tell me stories about the flowers, what they represented.  Like…white chrysanthemums are for truth.  Lilacs mean first love.  He even gave me this little book with the meanings in, and I learnt them and would recite them back to him.  He was really kind to me.  Patient with this stupid little kid.”

“What happened to him?”

“He was supposedly attacked and killed by a wild dog, but how likely is that?  The Hellmouth must’ve got him.  I didn’t know that at the time, happily oblivious nine-year-old, but…  I was sad, I missed him.  The people who bought his house made the garden into a drive.  Paved every inch of it.”

Xander parked as close as he could to the site office.

“So when I give you roses…?”

“They’re always red.  You’re telling me you love me.”

“What would you give me?”

With a long considerate gaze, Xander thought…

“I wish I could remember them all.”  …and decided.  “Dahlias.”

“What does that stand for?”

Xander’s face broke into a grin.

“Good taste.”

For a moment it looked like Samuel was going to burst into tears at the sight of Xander, but instead he gulped down the emotion, took and vigorously shook his hand.  When he tried to withdraw Xander kept hold of him.

“Sammy…  You saved my life.  Thank you.”

“Anyone, Alex, anyone would have…”

“Yeah, but you did.  I can’t tell you how grateful I am.”

“Goes for both of us,” Spike concurred from where he was hanging back in the doorway.

Samuel immediately tugged his hand from Xander’s and bowed his head obsequiously.

“Master Spike.  It is such an honour to meet you.”

“It is?” Spike asked in unguarded surprise.

“Your reputation precedes you, Master Spike, and the entire community is aware of William the Bloody’s presence.”

“Sounds like Brad’s been doing some PR work for you,” Xander suggested before turning back to Samuel.  “When you say community…  We talking large, small, mainly vampires, general mix?”

“Yes,” Samuel said after a little thought.  “Larger community of vampires, smaller general mix.”

“Larger but not large?”  Samuel nodded.  “Must be connected to those vamps we met in the copse.  If you ever hear anything…”

“Be assured, Alex, my first loyalty is to you.”

“Why?” Spike asked with a frown.

“Alex pays my wages and reads my stories,” Samuel answered with a huge grin.  “I have a new story, Alex, can I…?”

Xander noticed Rafe’s arrival and, helping himself to a couple of large flashlights, headed for the door.

“How about you show it to Spike while I check out the site with Rafe?”

“Xander…”

“I’m fine, Spike.  I’ll be with Rafe, you’re only a shout away.”

Reading Xander’s determined expression, Spike agreed with a begrudging nod.

With Xander’s departure, Samuel’s head dropped forward again.

“Let’s have it then,” Spike said with false enthusiasm.

“Master Spike, I wouldn’t dream of inflicting my work upon you.”

“Don’t stand on ceremony.  It’s Spike.  And any friend of Xander’s, all that stuff.”

Samuel’s head was slowly raised.

“Spike,” he said softly, flushing blue.  “Please, Spike, sit down.  May I offer you something?  I have tea, coffee…”

Spike took the seat next to the main desk and waved away the offer of refreshments, reaching over and taking Samuel’s pad, glancing over the tightly packed words and wishing he didn’t need reading glasses.

“What’s it about?”

When Samuel didn’t answer Spike looked up to see the M’lura rifling through the pockets of a coat Spike assumed was his own.  He found what he was looking for and turned to the vampire, taking a step forward and nervously holding out a tightly folded piece of paper.  Spike took it, unfolded it.  There were three names and addresses.

“They’re the men you’re looking for,” Samuel said grimly.

The shock almost started Spike’s heart beating.

“The men who attacked Xander?”

“Yes.”

“You’re certain?”

“Yes.  They worked here for some time.”

“Some time until…?”

“They were fired for their attitude towards him.  Not fired by Alex, by the Site Manager, but they must have held him responsible.”

Spike stared at the names and never hated the chip in his head more.

“Why didn’t you tell anyone?”

“The police don’t understand how we handle these situations.  What right of vengeance you have as his master.”

“You could have told Angel.”

“Is that the old vampire?”  Spike gave a nod.  “I didn’t trust him.  He didn’t smell of Alex.  You smell of Alex.  Alex smells of you.”  Another nod as Spike acknowledged the basic response to their connection.  “I know there’s nothing you can do yet…”

Alarmed by the implication that Samuel knew about his chipped state, Spike’s head shot up and Samuel instantly fell silent under the vampire’s glare.

“What do you mean?”

“If – if…you took your revenge immediately…  If the police have their suspicions about these men.  You wouldn’t want Alex implicated in any way.”  Samuel stumbled to a halt; Spike accepted the young demon’s reservations and went back to staring at the names, grateful that his and Xander’s safety wasn’t going to be put in danger by the entire demon community knowing that he was a shadow of his former self.  “I’d like to offer my assistance, Master Spike.  I’ve been…troubled since Alex was hurt and would appreciate the chance to help you punish these men.”

“We’ll see.”  Spike met Samuel’s wide, excited eyes.  “Looking for first blood?”

“It isn’t…  I’m not…  I simply…  Yes,” he finished decisively.

“I’ll bear that in mind.”  Spike re-folded the paper and tucked it into the back pocket of his jeans.  “I owe you.  You ever need anything, gimme a shout.”

“If you could possibly give me permission to write the account of their punishment?” Samuel asked tentatively.

“We’ll see,” Spike repeated.  “Not a word to Xander, all right?”  He pushed the pad back across the desk.  “Read me some of this.”

Samuel sat and began to read.

Spike’s mind wandered immediately to thoughts of humans and the chip, revenge and the chip, obligation and the chip, desire and the chip.  Protecting Xander.  Protecting himself.  Protecting Xander.  And destroying the people who had hurt his love.  Taking his time, showing them just how exquisite pure agony could be.  Making himself…worthy?

The chip was teetering on the brink of a highly charged objection so Spike tuned in to the M’lura’s voice and picked up the thread of the story: humans being processed, shredded and packaged as a kind of demonic fast food.  Very nice too.

…

“You’re quiet.”  No answer from Spike, proving the point.  “You okay?  Spike?”

“What?  Sorry, what?” Spike said distractedly.

“You okay?”

“Thinking.”

“About the stuff I was saying earlier?”

“Just…thinking.”

“Want me to drive home the long way?”

“Can do.”  Xander took a right instead of a left at the next junction and soon they were out in the countryside.  “How was it for you?” Spike asked, unsurprised at how much of an effort it was to talk but needing to know this.  “At the site?”

“I didn’t really have time to think about anything but work.  I’m not sure whether there’s an association in my head or not, ‘cause I know I was at the site when I was attacked, but I wasn’t on site.  Being there didn’t jog any memories, if that’s what you’re worried about.”

“Did you feel comfortable though?”

Xander took a moment to analyse his recent feelings.

“Not comfortable, no.  Not like I was six months ago.  I was glad you and Rafe were there, I needed that security whereas before it wouldn’t have bothered me, walking the site in the dark.  But I’ll get used to it.  I have to get used to it.”

“You should call Patrick and Jake, let them know how it went.”

“Rafe said he’d give them a call.  I thought that was better: wasn’t up to any more of their concern.  God, it’s been a long day.”

“You’re out of practise.”

Xander smiled.

“Yeah.  Tomorrow’ll be easier.  How many times have I said that since we’ve been together?”

Spike shrugged, wanted to return Xander’s smile but didn’t have it in him; the response was too facile and easily overwhelmed by what was clamouring for his attention.  He let himself be quiet again, feeling cornered by knowledge he resented as much as he relished possessing.

Preoccupied by the obvious, Spike spent time carefully picking through his options.  With the chip in place and functional he was unable to take the revenge he wanted – needed – to, and the next step would be to get Angel involved and take pleasure in his sire reducing these men to body parts.  He even knew that this Angel would enjoy the opportunity to get his hands bloody: his devotion to his family was phenomenal as he attempted to compensate for past mistakes.

But Samuel had been correct: vengeance was Spike’s right.  He was loath to pass over the responsibility and the pleasure of retribution, the mere thought of the terror and agony he could produce in these people was enough to set his body thrumming in joyful anticipation and the chip warily teetering on the edge of violent protestation.  Samuel had also been correct about timing.  A few more months to disassociate Xander with these people was a good idea; maybe he would be un-chipped and lethal by then.  Maybe.  He sighed deeply and Xander’s hand moved to his thigh, fingertips stroking as the heat from the palm seeped into the vampire’s cold flesh.

“Want to stop at the copse?”

Spike considered the local demon community’s growing interest in him and knew the sensible thing was to keep Xander away from any curious eyes.  God, he hated being sensible.  A resounding ‘yes’ to the copse was about to emerge when he recalled Max’s words, that a Consort would be turned and used as leverage.

“Let’s go home.  I want you fed, watered, and fucked mindless by midnight.”

“I’m well, you know.  You can stop treating me like an invalid.”

“I fed, watered, and fucked you mindless before you ever got knocked about.  This is me in poofy caretaker mode and you should be used to it by now.”

“Hey, I was thinking that maybe this weekend…”

Spike lost track of Xander’s digression, berating himself for turning down a fuck at the copse because he was scared.  Master vampire and he was scared.  He couldn’t decide whether he felt more angry or ashamed or sorry for Xander for being stuck with him.

He could feel Xander’s curiosity at his ongoing silence but couldn’t bring himself to falsify good humour and remained troubled and uncommunicative through the remainder of the drive, their arrival home, and during the preparation and consumption of a late meal.  Xander tried his best to ignore the withdrawal, telling Spike about his day in more of a monologue than an attempt at conversation.

“Coming to bed?” he eventually asked, this time pointedly waiting for an answer.

“Not yet.”

“Perhaps I should rephrase that,” Xander smiled.  “Put more sex in there.  Add a little emphasis to the coming.”

“No.”

“No?”

Not worthy even to be fucked.  Useless.  Worse than useless.  I hate what I’ve become, what he’s let me become.

“No.”

“You want to tell me what’s wrong?”

“I have to go back to LA.  Get this fucking thing in my head dealt with.”

For a moment Xander was speechless.

“Right now?  Tonight?”

“Sooner rather than later.”

“You don’t mean the seventy-percent chance of brain damage option?”

“Whatever it takes.”

And now Xander was horrified.

“No, Spike, it’s not worth the risk, and some other…”

“There aren’t other options.  Haven’t you noticed the distinct lack of other options?”  Spike paced irritably away and back again.  “I can’t protect you.  I want to be able to protect you.”  Away and back, growling deep inside.  “I should’ve been staked when it happened, when the chip was stuck in my head.  This isn’t the way it’s supposed to be for demons.  Vampires don’t get mollycoddled if they become feeble or ineffectual, they become fodder or dust.  For all her fighting talk, the slayer can be totally fucking spineless: she should’ve finished me off the minute I turned up neutered.  You should’ve.  Fuck knows you had your chances.  If you really loved me you would’ve stood back and let her have me at Red’s when I was…”  William.  No.  Nobody threatens the non-optional extra.  “I don’t want to exist this way, Xander, can’t you understand that?”

Spike carried on pacing and Xander attempted to get his head around the unexpected outburst.  So much for learning to cope.

“I understand.  But you can’t expect me to agree that you should have been staked.   And I would never have let Buffy hurt you.  If it’s within my power to stop it no-one will ever hurt you again.”

“Y’see?  That’s plain wrong.”

“Why?”

“Because I’m a fucking vampire!” Spike roared.  “You shouldn’t be worrying about me like I’m some pet!  See me for what I am and realise I’m…I’m…”  Xander waited as Spike appeared to run out of energy and the pacing came to a halt.  He turned desperately sad eyes on Xander.  “I can’t protect you.”  I can’t tear apart the men who nearly killed you.  I can’t prevent it from happening again.  I can’t be worthy.  “I want to be whole for you.”

“Don’t make this about me.”

“But it is about you.”

“No.  I accept you exactly as you are.”

“Exactly?”

“Yes.”

“Not exactly.  You want me to fuck you.”

“Wouldn’t you?”

“And I can’t.”

“So, you can’t.  Is a fuck worth losing your mind for?”

“I’m not doing it for that.”

“Wait, wait…  You’re saying that the whole chip business is why you won’t fuck me?”

“No.  It was an example.  You said ‘exactly’ and I…”

“Holy shit, I don’t want to do this now!” Xander exclaimed peevishly before continuing more calmly.  “How about you stop fucking around with my head and start fucking around with my body?  Let’s go to bed now and tomorrow we’ll talk about this.”

“This is typical of you,” Spike walked away in exasperation.  “Don’t like the subject so you put it off and put it off…”

“We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise.”

“Yeah, well I want…”

“I don’t care what you want, I demand my rights,” Xander snapped.  “Upstairs, now, move your fucking ass.”

Spike turned back, face a picture of lust until he saw Xander’s less than serious expression.

“You’re too good at that.”

“Show me a button and I’ll push it.”

“More,” Spike told him as he stalked over.  “Make me.”

Xander wrapped his arms around Spike, kissing him gently.

“I’m not comfortable making you do anything.  You know that.”

“Make me, Xander,” Spike coaxed.  “Take me.  Claim me.  Make me bleed for you.”

“Don’t.”

Spike pulled away.

“Because it offends your precious human sensibilities.  Bit more of a reminder, eh?  Not human here, Xander.  What do I have to do to keep reminding you of what I am, what I should be?”

“I know what you are, I don’t forget.”

“I think you do.”  Spike went back to pacing and prowling.  “Maybe I’m not what I was but I’m still a vampire.  Sometimes all I want is to be able to go out and kill a few humans, feed on hot, fresh blood, straight from the vein.  I have moments when I think the longing will drive me insane.  I want to taste the fear, the pain, the arousal.  I want to know that the human in my grip is dying with mindless acceptance because all they can really think of is how they’d like to be fucked by this demon.  It’s a heady experience, Xander, and it can’t be replaced by bagged blood from any source, or being fucked with loving kindness.”

“You…you told me this was enough,” Xander said shakily.  “That you were content.”

“Maybe I was at that minute.  Maybe I’m not now.”

“So…  Tell me what you want.”

“I want you to stop fussing and fretting and making me soft.  Accept me for what I really am and let me try to get back to it.  If it takes someone poking around in my head, then that’s what happens.  If it takes me picking off the surplus population, why should you give a shit about a bunch of strangers?   If it means bloody, brutal fucking, then fuck me bloodily and brutally.  You reckon you respect me?  Then you need to respect what I really am.  Not your spouse, not your charity case, not your fuck-toy, not your pet.  Treat me like a vampire.”  The guilt and sorrow on Xander’s face only made Spike madder, made him want to hurt or shock to prove to himself he still had the power.  “It’s you in the best fantasies.  Your fear, your pain, your arousal.  Fucking you, tearing open your arse as I’m tearing open your throat, your orgasmic spasms indiscernible from your death throes.”  The colour had completely drained from Xander’s face and he tried to turn away, but Spike was there fast, blocking him, destructively proving a point.  He slid into game face and heard Xander’s sharp inhalation.  “Vampire, Xander.  See me as a vampire.  Treat me like a vampire.”

Xander took a few minutes to emotionally regroup, gather his scattered thoughts, and find a little courage; he gave a shallow nod and, cautiously navigating his way past Spike, left the room.  Spike shed the demon façade and automatically started to follow before stopping himself, understanding that he was as much to blame as Xander for this level of dependence, for allowing the lifestyle that was making him weaker and more yielding by the day.  It was time to reclaim himself, find a way to revive the ultimate killing machine and demonstrate his skill on three certain individuals.  But even now, beneath his determination, beneath his frustration, he felt bad for upsetting Xander, and that intensified his irritation.  It wasn’t wrong to want to be whole, want to be able to kill those men, to be able to fuck Xander, to be…in control.  He couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt in control of his existence and he detested being at the mercy of others, directed by the whims of sires or lovers or, God forbid, those who merely possessed the price of a bag of blood.

But piercing the tumultuous emotions was one clear thought, the prevalent clear thought that drove him.  He could resent Xander’s influence, try to coerce him or taunt him into accepting a procedure involving the chip that was, Spike accepted, foolhardy at the very least.  He could deliberately open a fucking huge can of worms because he wanted to be aggravating and provocative, but he couldn’t do a damn thing about that one clear thought: I want to be with Xander.  This very minute.  Every minute.  With Xander.  Here he was behaving like a precocious child, spouting words for effect, wounding and scarring, but in his heart of hearts, all he wanted was Xander’s safety and peace of mind, his sensuous body accepting Spike, easily, unbloodily, into its depths, his…presence.  I want to be with Xander.

He refused to give in to the need and stomped into the living room, checking his back pocket to reassure himself Samuel’s list of names was still there before throwing himself into an armchair for a good hard sulk.  Want to be with Xander?  Well, chew up some pride and swallow it down, sniff him out, go and be with him, dickhead.  How far away can he be?  I can hear his…  Racing.  …heartbeat.  He must be so pissed off with me, so angry, so…

Spike heard footsteps coming along the hall and fought the bout of chip, defenceless, strong human, defenceless, pain, defenceless that romped through his mind.  He also realised that, despite all the emotional upheaval he’d caused, he was waiting with keen anticipation for Xander to come and make it better.  He heard Xander stop in the doorway and didn’t turn to look, refused to be seen wanting him.

“Treat you like a vampire?”

Bugger!  Forget that, just make everything right.  Fuck, fuck, fuck!  Blown it, haven’t I?  Can’t say that, can’t let him know.

“That’s what I said.”

Spike felt Xander’s approach as he came to the back of the armchair and his mind raced, trying to think of a way he could turn this around without losing face, how he could get Xander’s heart pounding with excitement rather than anger.  But before he could utter a word, Xander made an abrupt, wholly unanticipated move, trapping Spike with an arm around his neck as his other hand swung and plunged toward the point of greatest vulnerability, only stopping as a freshly whittled stake pierced the flesh over Spike’s heart.

The human froze; the vampire froze.  There was a long, still moment as they watched blood from the shallow wound seep into Spike’s shirt.  Incongruously, Xander turned his head and kissed Spike’s temple; the vampire took in a coarse breath.  Oh, yeah, Xander thought with no satisfaction but plenty of self-disgust, I can make him breathe.

Xander eased the stake away from Spike’s body and released his hold, slowly bringing himself upright, dropping the wood into Spike’s lap and walking further into the room.  Spike remained static with shock for a few more seconds before snatching the stake up, snarling as he hurled it at Xander, crying out and clutching his head as it flew.  Xander turned at the sound, just as the stake made contact and ripped through pants and skin, tearing across the surface of his right thigh.  He yelped and was aware of Spike’s reaction as the chip fired for a second time; for a moment he was caught between attending to his injury or trying to help Spike who was clearly in agony, but the unpleasant sensation of blood running down his leg made up his mind.  He staunched the flow as best he could with a handful of his ruined pants and tried to hurry to the stairs, amazed at quite how much his thigh already hurt.

Once in the bathroom he stripped down to t-shirt and boxers, used the shower spray to clean off his leg and examined the damage.  Not pretty, but a mouthful of Spike’s blood and a quick going over with vampire saliva would sort it out.  If he wanted to let Spike anywhere near him after this.  The chip had reacted, so this had been deliberate.  Spike had wanted to hurt him.  He’d fooled himself that he’d never be faced with this, never have to figure out what to do when Spike decided to hurt him physically, but it had been bound to happen: the fact that they both had such fiery tempers and could irritate one another as easily as they could arouse one another dictated it eventually would.

He began to dab antiseptic cream onto the wound, mind sliding back to what had started this in the first place.  Spike’s dissatisfaction.  With this life.  With Xander.  I’m losing him.  Oh, God, killing me, tearing me open.  Fantasies, just fantasies, right?  He told me about fantasies.  But he can’t…  And I can’t…  I’m losing him.  He hates this life, our life.  That hurt more than all the cuts and bruises he could imagine.  And maybe it was just as inevitable.

Repossession 65       Repossession Index       Repossession Notes

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