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Part 94 |
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Spike spent a lot of time thinking about the gallery. His gallery.
William’s gallery. So much time,
in fact, that when Xander finally ventured to discuss it again he was ready
with answers. Now it was only a question
of how much of the truth Xander would want to hear. “Why d’you want it so badly, Spike?” “Don’t think you’ll like some of this much, want to give it
a miss?” “No. I want you to be
able to talk to me about it, about anything.
I’m sorry I brushed you off, but that whole William thing… You can talk about that too now. If you still want to.” “I don’t want you upset.” “You know I’d give them up for you? Pat, Jake, all of them. You come first, and if they’re wrong for
you…” “I never asked you to give anyone up.” “No. No, that’s
true. Overreacting again,” Xander
observed with a wry laugh. “Again and
again and again. Was I always this bad?” “Mmm. Denial or
overreaction.” “And you’re still here.
That must mean the sex is great.” “Oh, yeah, the sex is great,” Spike sighed happily. Xander laughed and carried on stroking Spike’s hair, gazing
adoringly down at the vampire who lay with his head in Xander’s lap as they
sprawled over the sofa. “Tell me why.” Spike’s eyes opened and he met Xander’s gaze. “I want to be someone.” “You are someone,” Xander instantly, defensively countered,
brow kinking in a slight frown that Spike couldn’t resist rubbing away with a
finger. “Status. It’s about
status.” Xander bit his tongue and
nodded for him to continue. “Any I had
as a Master was lost, years ago, and I’m not likely to get that back unless I
return to old habits that would put us at odds.
Can’t – won’t – do that,
because we come first, right?” Xander
nodded again, but there was guilt on his face that Spike had to ignore to
continue. “I need to find a new
standing, and it has to be one within the life I’ve now accepted. It has to be compatible with your life, it
has to be permanent, and it has to be pertinent to everything we have now.” “Despite…” “I like the family well enough, Xander, I even love them on
good days. I won’t make you lose them,
or shun them, or only be able to see them when I’m not around. I’d miss them if I didn’t see them.” “You’re not just saying that for me?” “No, I’m trying to be honest. Not trying, am. Am being honest. I’d be happier if you’d admit some things
about them aren’t as normal as they could be…”
Spike left that hanging and Xander took a breath before reluctantly
giving a single nod. “Thank you,
love. Not pursuing that, just want us to
be on the same page.” “So… You’re not
taking the gallery because William would have wanted it once, you’re taking it
because Spike wants it now.” “Yeah. It took some
convincing but you’ve shown me I can be somebody of worth, and now I am convinced,
I’m arrogant enough to want it acknowledged.
Don’t care if it’s only Cora and her cronies telling me I’m fabulous, as
long as someone is.” “Can I tell you you’re fabulous?” “I take that for granted from you,” Spike smiled. “Good, eh?
Started believing.” “It is good. Better
than good.” “And I’m looking to the future, ‘cause if this works out I want somewhere
better than the mall. I’m going to turn
into a right pretentious arse, y’know, you’re going to regret all the
encouragement.” “Somewhere more of your own?
Because we can afford…” “The Partnership can keep paying, don’t give a toss about
that. What’s Patrick’s is ours, I get
that now and it suits me.” “After all the fuss you made!” “That was all Angel,” Spike lied dismissively. “Balls to ‘that was all Angel’.” “Whatever.” “Hey, I could build you a place. There’s land to the East of here that the
Partnership owns, you and Moira could design a studio and gallery, and I could
get it built for you. Studio in the
woods, that’d be cool.” “Hmm,” Spike agreed, enjoying the pride he felt in Xander’s
abilities. Xander stroked in silence for a few minutes. “I hate that you feel you’ve lost your status as a Master.” “I knew you would, but I had to say. It’s a big part of this, of who I am now.” “But you have the Fan Club, they worship you. Literally.” “They’re not much but they’re something, I suppose,” Spike
accepted grudgingly. “How about Sammy?
Whenever I see him it’s all, ‘Master Spike, Master Spike’. He idolises you. Since those anecdotes you told him got printed
his readers are pretty Master Spikey too.
That’s kinda statusy.” “Perhaps I had to lose everything to start again.” “Yeah, but it was so much, so fast.” Xander hesitated. “You don’t think…” They exchanged a wary look. “Let’s not go there,” Spike suggested and Xander willingly
agreed. “Can I just say…” “No!” Xander exclaimed. “Previous subject, love.” “Yes!” Xander exclaimed in turn. Spike chuckled and caught Xander’s hand, bringing it to his
mouth for a kiss. “I wanted to say it was worth it.” “That’s… No,
Spike. If you think that you’re
forgetting too much.” “I’ve forgotten nothing, that’s your party piece.” “I’d’ve done anything to save you from… From all of it.” “It had to happen.”
Xander gave a shiver, and Spike relented. “Change the subject.” “Yeah, can I?
‘Cause…I’m never going to get over what’s happened to you, and the most
I can hope for is to avoid any reminders so we move on the best we can.” “You’re happy with my reasons for wanting the gallery?”
Spike asked, giving Xander the opportunity for avoidance he was looking for. “No, but…” Spike scowled. “Yes, I mean yes, no arguments here. We – you – can let Pat know… Oh, shit, I didn’t tell you.” “Tell me what?” “There’s a party. On
Saturday. To celebrate the end of this
contract I’ve been knocking myself out over.
I…umm…kinda…well…” “Said we’d both be there?” “Kinda,” Xander confirmed sheepishly. “Big do, is it?” “Not so big. Mostly
people you’ve met, few others. It’s at
our building, the top floor is a conference area, and I know you haven’t seen
that yet but it’s still familiar territory.” “Is the Nazi going to be there?” “Uh…this is going to be a bad idea, I’ll tell Pat…” “That I’ll be delighted to come along with my utterly
gorgeous boyfriend. The one I can’t keep
my hands off of. Especially in
public. My utterly gorgeous kilted boyfriend.” Xander groaned and Spike enjoyed for thirty
seconds. “I’ll be good, love. Just don’t expect me to be polite to that
tosser.” “But that’s the way to deal with him, don’t you see? Charm him, make him like you, and it
undermines all his stupid prejudices.” Spike raised a sceptical eyebrow. Then a thought occurred. “Is there a Mrs Nazi?” “Yes, she’s really nice, and—” Xander’s mouth curled into a wicked
smile. “She will love you, she will just
love you.” “Whatever else, the local matrons think I’m the business. She a friend of Cora’s?” “Yeah.” “All over bar the shouting then.” The wicked smile grew wider. “Know what else?” “What else?” “You know his daughter.” “I do?” “Josie?” “What? Jake’s
slapper?” “Don’t call her…
Well, yeah.” “Oh, love,” Spike purred.
“Better ‘n’ better.” Hamish chose that moment to join them, waiting until Xander
raised his feet and slumping into his favoured position as footstool, settling
with a breathy huff-uff-uff, followed by a grunt as Xander lowered his feet
onto a muscular rump. “We should make a couple of calls,” Xander said quietly. “Why bother? It’s
plain he wants to be with us, it should be up to him.” “I guess, if you look at it like that…” “Yeah, I do. Will he
get to come to this party?” “I don't... You think he’d want to come along?” One look at Spike’s
trying-hard-to-keep-straight face and Xander knew he’d been had. “Maybe not.
Maybe taking one animal is enough.” Spike snickered. “Going to wear the kilt?” “No.” “Why?” “Because.” “Bloody good reason, that.” “Another time.” “When it won’t be quite so inconvenient to have me taking
you every half-hour?” Spike smelt his partner’s instant arousal and rubbed his
head in Xander’s lap. Xander’s hand
drifted over Spike’s chest and abs, tracing the lines of muscle. “Going out?” he asked Spike, slightly too casually. “Later maybe. Take
Hame for a run.” “Henry.” “Hamish.” Hamish looked up questioningly. “Hey, Henry,” Xander crooned, “you’re a Henry, right?” The dog’s tail thumped against the
floor. “See? He’s Henry.” “Good lad, Hamish,” Spike said in the same tone, and still
the dog’s tail thumped. “Yeah, okay,” Xander conceded. “Going to join us tonight?” “Next week I will, when we’re all wrapped up at work.” Spike sprang up, leaving Xander groping after him. “Something to eat, shag the consort, take the pooch for a
constitutional. Got us a plan.” Hamish automatically followed Spike to the kitchen and
Xander automatically followed the pair of them.
A rapidly established habit, Spike drinking blood and the rest of the
pack sharing cookies or crackers while they kept him company. Tonight was different though, and Xander
watched with surprise and delight as Spike’s face shifted as he brought the mug
of blood to his mouth. “That the first time?” he asked, trying to keep his tone
light despite wanting to whoop and dance triumphantly around the room. “Pretty much,” Spike said cautiously, trying not to care
that Xander had seen him like this. “You’ve never had to hide it.” “I know. I just…”
‘Do it once more in my presence and I’ll slice that fucking vile mess
you call a face right off.’ “Some things are harder to get past.” Spike forced himself back to his human appearance and Xander was
already rushing over, reading his mind on this one. He took Spike’s face in his hands, smothering
it in kisses from brow to chin. “Change. Change, Spike. Please, sweetheart, for me.” “Xander…” “Just do it.” There was a strained pause before Spike’s features morphed; Xander
could see – and he wanted to think this was impossible but there it was – fear
in his eyes. “My Spike,” Xander whispered as he
repeated his kisses, brow to chin. “Love
you, love this, want this.” Now he
kissed Spike’s mouth, aware of the fangs and tentatively exploring with the tip
of his tongue, hearing, feeling an excited breath from the vampire as he licked
over a deadly incisor. “I accept you,
this, all of you and this, Spike, every part of who and what you are.” His fingers traced the extraordinary
features. “I love you. All of you.” Spike pulled Xander into a tight
embrace, burying the demon face in his neck and nuzzling. “He said…” came the muffled
explanation. “I know what he said. But you’re beautiful and whole and strong and
he can’t hurt you, no-one can hurt you.
Between us we can take them all on, human and demon.” “Xander… The chip…” “Won’t be there forever, we have
to believe that. Now…” Xander manoeuvred Spike into a long, desirous
kiss. “Wasn’t there something about
shagging the Consort?” “You fuck me, love. Please?” “How about…how about I make love
to you? ‘Cause I think maybe you need to
feel a little love. Or even a lot.” … The new piano was delivered. Xander was a very contented man. … Mid-week. Xander was
in his study, wearing out his brain with reports and facts and figures that
would not meet and greet no matter however many times he went over them. Eventually he sat back and dry-washed his
face. “Tired?” came from the vampire lounging in the doorway. “Oh, yeah.” Xander stood and stretched, popping joints and grimacing as
stiff muscles objected to the change in position. He flattened himself against a wall and tried
to force his spine straight. “Awake enough to talk?” “Sure.” Spike nodded slowly and spent a few minutes in contemplation
before speaking. “When was the first time I had you, Xander?” “The day before I left Sunnydale,” Xander answered without
hesitation. “That’s not right, is it?” Xander fell still and thought hard. “It was. It was the
day before…” Surprise crossed Xander’s
face. “That isn’t right.” “We’ll forget when it really was. In a week we won’t know your first time was
five days ago.” “I could…” Xander
shrugged. “…make a note of it. To remind me.
But…” “But?” “I’ve felt better.
Since I’ve known – thought – it was that long ago. The feeling inside me, the not belonging,
it’s gone. I didn’t have all those years
unclaimed, I knew you would be back in my life someday because you’d taken me
as your Consort.” “And you can accept that version of events?” “I want to.” “You don’t think it’s…creepy?” “Maybe. If I make
myself think about it. I will make a
note of it, or rather we’ll have
to because I won’t remember, but… I’d
rather take it for granted.” Spike came to Xander, peered into his eyes and apparently
found what he was looking for. “Finally healing?” Xander nodded. “And everything makes sense at last. The way I felt being here without you, the
way the pain dragged on and on. You were
always more than a crush, more than…than love.
You were my mate, and I didn’t have you.
It’s no wonder I felt so bereft.
And no wonder I couldn’t face the thought of having someone else in my
bed. It makes perfect sense.” “Yeah,” Spike slowly nodded.
“I see.” “You knew you had to do that – I mean, you made it the way
it should have been the first time. How
did you know to do that?” “I thought I was just giving you your fantasy.” “No, it was more than that.
We were back there, back then.
You didn’t only make it how, you made it when.” “Let me see the scar.”
Xander pulled his collar open and touched the recently damaged skin,
shuddering as his fingertips ran over Spike’s claim mark. Spike studied it curiously. “Have you looked at this?” “Yeah.” “Then you know what I’m going to say.” Xander nodded. “It’s old. Older
than…” Xander had to concentrate but he
still couldn’t get it. “Five days,” Spike supplied. “How old, you think?
Not back to Sunnydale?” “Maybe. Possibly from
when I turned up here.” “And re-established your claim. Bit me again.” Spike watched the lust building in Xander’s expression as
the claim was spoken of. Eyes closing,
the human dragged his fingers over the scar again, an incredibly intimate
touch, masturbatory in effect; the scent of his consort’s lust hit Spike and it
was an effort not to fuck Xander there and then. “It was so good, wasn’t it?” Xander stated on harsh
breaths. “The first time, it was just…so
good. Having you at last, at long
last. I want that again. Can I have that again? Can you make it happen again? Could we have it without the sad stuff, so
it’s just… Good. So good.” Aroused and fascinated, Spike wanted to see how powerful his
claim was. He kissed Xander, holding him
against the wall with pressure from his body.
As he broke the kiss Xander’s eyes flickered open, black with desire as
they focused on him; his hand began to drop away. “No. Keep doing what
you’re doing.” He put Xander’s hand back
on his neck. “Let me watch.” “Spiiiiike…” “I want to see if you can make yourself come by doing
that.” Xander squirmed, hand yanking
away from his neck and being diligently replaced by the curious vampire. “Do it.” Xander’s fingers moved; lightning bolts of pleasure shot to
his groin and, once again, he unsuccessfully attempted to hump Spike. “This isn’t fair,” he protested in gasps as Spike’s strong
hands held him against the wall, forcing him motionless from the waist
down. But his hand still worked the
scar, and his scent told Spike that he was aroused enough to be leaking pre-come. “Let me…”
His free hand tried to squeeze between them. “No, Xander. As you
are.” Xander groaned but did as he was
told, pressing harder now, using his nails.
“Now…remind me, love, of what you wanted me to do to you in Sunnydale.” “Oh…fuck. I can’t,
I…” “Tell Spike,” the vampire cajoled, voice like silk. “I – I… I
wanted… Oh, fuck.” Fingers stopped moving. “Do it.” “Can’t, can’t, can’t.
Oh, fuck.” Fingers started moving. “You were telling me…?” Xander was panting by now, words becoming virtually
impossible as he fought for control, swollen cock painfully trapped and
throbbing with every heartbeat. He
couldn’t decide whether to be humiliated by his reactions or aroused beyond
belief. Aroused probably had the edge. “Wanted you…” “Yes, love?” “You know. Can’t…” “Wanted me to turn you, that was it, eh?” Nod.
“Dreamt of me taking your blood.
While I took your body?”
Nod. “Making you mine while I
sucked and fucked the life out of you.”
Frantic nod. Spike moved closer,
licking the scar-less side of Xander’s neck.
“Never too late.” Xander cried out, head banging back against the wall, every
muscle in his body clenching as the orgasm tore out of him; the potent aroma of
his lover’s release filled Spike senses, almost bringing him off in turn. Spike stood back and observed with a smile as Xander slid
down the wall. “Do that much?” Xander rubbed the back of his head and caught his breath. “I’ve never… I don’t
think it works like that without you near.” “There’s a piece of luck.
If it did you’d never need me again.” Xander reached out, and Spike thought it was for a hand up
and offered, but Xander kept going, heading straight for the vampire’s fly. “Well…okay,” Spike agreed magnanimously. “Since you’re
already down there.” … Once upon a time Xander could get
ready for a party in an hour. Spike in
his life and it took all afternoon, not that he cared, not that he’d have
things any different. A little quality
time together and it made Xander realise how much and how easily he missed Spike
when he was overwhelmed with work.
Still, soon over: another week to catch any unforeseen fallout from the
handover, then they’d have an undisturbed week together. Hopefully
undisturbed, Xander quickly adjusted, hoping he hadn’t jinxed them. This afternoon they’d talked. A lot.
It still surprised Xander how much they talked, how much they found to
share, how fascinating he found Spike, how tedious and boring Spike didn’t find him. Friends first, maybe that was the trick, and
they’d been good friends before he’d left Sunnydale. So there’d been talking and sex and
discussion about Hamish and sex and gossip and sex and debate about the gallery
and sex. Funny about the sex too: Xander
had never felt this horny in his life.
Horny and sexy, he felt sexy, worthy of Spike’s lustful thoughts and
attention. It was true love, Xander
decided. He was so in love, so
deliriously happily in love, it made him sure and enough and everything Spike
wanted. Because it was a Partnership
party, Xander felt the need to be reasonably formal; he chose to wear one of
the stylish suits Lydia had hand-picked for him, well fitted and in a very dark
mahogany brown that looked black until it was caught in strong light. Obeying her well-remembered orders he wore
the soft cotton, collarless shirt she’d selected to accompany it, the creamy
hue stealing colour from the suit and becoming faintly pink. He felt he’d scrubbed up pretty
well until Spike strolled into the living room, when he unbegrudgingly accepted
that he would always be hopelessly overshadowed by his lover. The dark blue velvet pants, a silver-grey
silk shirt, navy-blue leather blazer. “All right?” Spike asked. “How do you do it? Look so…so…
And so effortlessly.” “Eyes of the beholder,” Spike told
him with a sigh, coming to kiss Xander and run pinched fingers down his lapels,
while Xander’s hands naughtily took advantage of Spike’s velvet-clad ass. “Know something I love about you?”
Xander asked. “Tell me.” “When we’re going out you never
say I can’t kiss you because it’ll ruin your make-up.” “Lucky you didn’t know me in the
seventies then.” … “You know I’m going to misbehave
tonight,” Spike mentioned casually as he and Xander rode the elevator to the
top floor of the Partnership’s building. “Not too badly. Just…enough.” “Just enough. Precisely what I was thinking.” “John Durman will be charming to
your face, y’know?” “Bloody hypocrite.” “Yeah.” “So…Jake and Josie. What’s the score?” “Happy ex’s. She’s got some other guy in tow now.” “Can’t fuck up anything that
matters then?” “Not so far as I can see.” They shared a conspiratorial smile
as the elevator doors slid open. Xander
reached out his hand and Spike took it. “Together,” Spike said firmly. “Together,” Xander agreed. Yes, John Durman was charming to
an impervious Spike, discussing the Partnership, architecture, the artwork he’d
heard about, commenting on how proud Spike must be of Xander, anything that
didn’t suggest why he and his partner weren’t fit to be invited to any of the
Durman’s frequent gatherings throughout the year. Halfway into the conversation Josie came over
to say hello, and Spike didn’t discourage the overly forward greeting, keeping
an arm around her and matching her flirting and teasing until the muscles in
her father’s jaw must’ve ached from battling to retain the amiable smile. “There’s my Jakey! Must say hello to Jake,” she finally
announced, and virtually skipped across the room to throw her arms around her
once-was. John jumped into a manly
discussion on football. “Can’t be doing with American
football,” Spike told him. “I prefer my
balls a little rounder,” delivered with a perfectly straight face, and it
wasn’t his fault that John had a filthy mind and fidgeted with embarrassment. “Soccer?” “Yeah. Better kit too, compared to that armour your
blokes wear. I like my athletes stripped
bare. Figuratively speaking, naturally.” “In England… Did you ever…play…” John began awkwardly,
knowing by now he was simply digging himself deeper into trouble. “Nothing you’d catch on the
box. Plenty of strapping men, but the
kind of contact sports I enjoy are rarely carried out in the centre of playing
fields. Although I do recall one occasion
when Xander and I…” That was quite enough; Spike
accepted that John must have quite advanced telepathy because he apparently
knew when his wife needed his company without a word or gesture from her; the
executive hurriedly excused himself and Spike almost purred with satisfaction
at causing the man so much discomfort.
And the evening wasn’t over yet. Beth stopped in passing. “How d’you get on?” “Great. He hates me.” “Well done. Now, Nancy’s primed for a portrait sitting if
you’d like to go and sweep her off her feet.” “Nancy? That’s Mrs Nazi?” “She’s very nice, nothing like her
husband.” “He isn’t going to like this,”
Spike said with a predatory grin before adopting his best seductive air. “Point me at her.” … Xander was dancing with
Moira. Spike noted this with a pointless
little pang of jealousy, not so envious of Moira but of the fact he couldn’t do
the same in this company, couldn’t hold Xander close with that same sappy
expression of contentment on his face. Helping himself to a couple of
drinks he crossed to where Patrick was staring out of the window into the night. “Here,” Spike offered a glass, and
Patrick took it. “Thank you.” He sipped.
“Having a good time?” “Yeah, it’s all right.” “Getting along with everyone?”
asked with a knowing smile. “Doing my best. I’ll have another word with John Durman later. Thought this time I might play the part of
the emotionally injured fag who just heard the unbelievable rumours about
him. Think he’d react well to me crying
on his shoulder?” Patrick laughed quietly and tipped
his glass in a silent toast to Spike. “Can I ask you something?” Patrick nodded. “Do you – did
you – know William, Patrick?” Patrick took fractionally too long
to answer. “Which William would that be?” “You can tell me. After all, I’ll forget.” “Let’s not do this tonight,
Spike,” Patrick said wearily. Spike felt suddenly reluctant to
push, taking a fresh look at the man beside him and seeing…age. “Tired?” “We’re all tired.” “Work?” Once again Patrick took
fractionally too long to answer and that made Spike uncomfortable. Worried.
Patrick was meant to be infallible. “Work. Of course.
What else?” Spike closed the space between
them, leaning in confidentially. “How close are we? To where this is going?” “Not tonight. Let’s just…” Josie chose that moment to pounce. “There you are! You
promised me a dance, Spike.” “I did?” “Oh, Patrick, this is cute, you’ll love this,” Josie
forewarned before clearing her throat.
“How do you tell a Scotsman’s clan?” “Never heard this one before,” Patrick lied with
well-practised tolerance. “Feel under his kilt.
If he has two quarter-pounders he’s a McDonald.” Josie bounced on the spot, clapping her hands
and laughing. Spike watched Patrick
shake his head and turn back to staring out of the window. “Isn’t that so cute? Hey, I love this song, we have to dance, come
and dance. You later, Patty,” Josie
called as she linked arms with Spike and ushered him away. “Sure,” Patrick agreed, adding in a barely audible mutter:
“Can’t wait.” As they made their way to the dance floor Jake appeared and caught
Spike’s arm. “Can I speak to you for a minute?” Spike looked to Josie, who gestured for them to carry on and
took the opportunity to chat up another of the men and possibly also his wife. “What?” Spike asked bluntly. “There’s a jealous boyfriend. I feel like we’ve been here before.” “Wasn’t a problem then either, was it?” “You know what you’re doing?” “Yep.” “Alex know what you’re doing?” “Yep.” “This about the Nazi?” “Yep.” “’Kay.” Jake switched
on the smile. “Enjoy.” It happened as predictably as they expected. Whether it was John Durman popping a vein in
his temple or the boyfriend behaving like a caveman, Spike was ready for a
reaction as he slow-danced with Josie, permitting her to get way too close,
letting her guide his hands down to her backside. Suggestions that once would have been highly
tempting were whispered into his ear, and he let his smile tinge on lecherous,
trusting that Josie’s nearest and dearest knew her well enough to guess exactly
what was happening here. Not long until the boyfriend was charging over in a rage and, yes, Spike had been here before and, yes, it should have been a repetition of the scene in the club. But as Spike delightedly drew back his arm to throw a punch, the chip fired and flooded him with excruciating pain. He recoiled, hands clamping to his skull, and the wildly swinging man managed to clip his jaw. Spike was aware of one highly furious Xander piling in and
his assailant being dragged away; there was shouting and pleading but all the
fun had been zapped out of this. The
fears and vulnerabilities rushed in and all Spike could think of was escape. Ignoring the pandemonium behind him, Spike staggered from
the conference area, heading for the stairs.
Too dark, too dark, too dark. Down floor after floor and eventually to the
sanctuary of the Partnership’s offices and Xander’s in particular, switching on
every light before perching on the edge of the desk and holding his aching head
in trembling hands.
A light touch to his shoulder focused his attention, and the
sudden lurch of panic subsided when Spike saw it was Patrick, concerned and
upset. “Put me right,” Spike beseeched. “Pádraig.
Please.” “I can’t. But…” Patrick transferred his touch to Spike’s
temple and, with a barely discernible throb of power, the residual pain from
the chip’s activation ceased instantly.
Spike gave a relieved nod and stared directly into Patrick’s eyes. He looked disappointingly human. “I’m sorry, Spike. You’ll…” “Understand one day?” Patrick’s hands cupped Spike’s face and he rested his lips
against Spike’s forehead. “One day. My sweet
boy, one of my own.” Spike edged his arms around the man, quickly finding
himself wrapped in a strong hug, recognising what Xander found here. Love, security, belonging. “Don’t make me forget this.
Give me this much, I want – need
– to trust you.” “Spike?” came urgently from outside the office, and Spike
heard Xander’s running footsteps approach.
“Spike?” as his partner barged into the room. Xander breathed a sigh of relief to see that
Spike was safe, hurrying over and rubbing his back, giving Patrick a wan but
thankful smile. “You okay, sweetheart?” “I was only dancing with her,” Spike said, justifiably
aggrieved because he really hadn’t done anything wrong other than given the
girl free reign. “I know, I know, it wasn’t you, it was that asshole she was
with.” “How did you leave things?” Patrick asked. “Jake reaching a level of madness previously unknown to man,
John furious with the asshole, Nancy dying of embarrassment, Josie attempting
to put everything right, and Rafe and Beth trying to get the whole damn train
back on the tracks.” “I’ll go and see if there’s anything I can do.” An affectionate kiss to Spike’s cheek… “You’re due an apology and I’m going to make
sure you get one.” …and Patrick handed
Spike over, quickly making his exit. Xander took up where Patrick had left off, guiding them to
the sofa and sitting, pulling Spike onto his lap for some intensive TLC. “How d’you feel?” Xander asked tentatively after a while. “Like I want to kill someone.” “I don’t blame you.” “But you wouldn’t let me.” “The prospect of watching your head explode would be pretty
much a deterrent. It’s a nice head, I
kinda like it the way it is. It has this
great face on the outside and all the gloopy stuff no-one ever wants to see
safely tucked away on the inside.” “Can we go home?” “Sure.” “Without seeing anyone?” “Sure.” “Fit to drive?” Xander nodded. Spike
stood charily and handed over the keys to the Jag. Wounded blue eyes met troubled brown as
Xander reached up to gently stroke the back of Spike’s head. Closing his eyes, Spike leant into the touch
and then into the following hug. “You gonna be okay?” “Don’t fuss,” Spike insisted, accepting Xander’s fussing
with a dejected sigh. … While Spike went immediately to bed, Xander warmed him some
blood, petted and fed Hamish, gave himself a few minutes to regret what a
stupid idea it had been to try and have a little fun. Still, John Durman had been mortified by the
actions of one of his party; from the angle he’d been at it looked like Josie’s
boyfriend had struck and knocked Spike down.
Old-fashioned manners dictated you didn’t do such a thing, even to
members of questionable minorities.
Xander was expecting many symbols of contrition to arrive the next day,
but grinned to himself as he accepted there was little chance of them making
the guest list for the next Durman function. Xander put the mug of blood on Spike’s cabinet before
quickly carrying out his ablutions and climbing into bed. They laid in silence for a while. “Funny,” Spike eventually said. “After all Durman’s worries about us being
filthy queers, I manage to get in trouble over his daughter.” “Not funny, Spike.” “No. Not funny. Sorry, love.”
Spike groaned appreciatively as Xander scooted behind him, wrapping him
in comforting heat. “Sorry, love.” “Fucking chip.” “We okay? I wasn’t
actually doing anything wrong. And you
knew…” “We’re great. And,
hey, look, if I’d been her boyfriend I’d have been jealous too. You’re too tempting for your own good.” “Yeah, right.” “Tempting and some.
You looked damned good tonight,” Xander murmured into Spike’s hair,
pressing closer still. “God, I’m so
lucky, how did I end up with you? How
did the Zeppo end up with you?” Xander’s mouth moved to his mark, teeth fastening lightly on
the scarred flesh. “Don’t,” Spike told him in an unequivocal tone. Xander froze, un-froze, pulled back, putting some space
between their bodies. “Okay.” He paused,
waited for another word from Spike; nothing was forthcoming and Xander moved a
little further away, watching Spike’s motionless form until he was convinced
the vampire had fallen asleep. He turned
onto his back, withdrew the hand that was halfway to touching his vampire
through habit, and let himself relax. Spike waited for over an hour, listening to Xander’s
breathing become deep and even. Then he
slid out of bed, wrapped himself in Xander’s robe, then left for
downstairs. As he passed Hamish’s
preferred night-time spot at the top of the stairs, the dog’s head rose
inquiringly, and Spike paused for a moment to fuss him before continuing,
knowing without looking that the wolfhound would follow. Once in the living room Spike shut the door and helped
himself to a tumbler full of whiskey, raising it to toast Hamish before downing
it in one draught. He poured another. “You know I love Xander.
I love him with everything I am, I can’t imagine being without him,
but… Fucking hell, I am so sick of
humans, being with them, around them.
Tonight was…” Spike swigged back
another half-a-glass of scotch. “All
right, at first it was fun, I admit that.
I like the attention I get from them, and I really like the fact that
some of the daft buggers go weak at the knees just from seeing me and Xander
together. It’s all fine to a point. Reached that point, didn’t I?” His hand unconsciously rose to the back of
his head. “I do love Xander, so much so
that I barely count him as human, but…he’s human. Although he’s tried he can’t play all the
parts, he can’t truly understand me, and I want the company of my own kind, I want…” Spike sighed to himself, drained the glass, filled the
glass. Patted the dog. Pointless
to avoid thinking it. Or saying
it. Spike picked up the phone and
pressed the appropriate memory key. “Spike,” Angel sounded rough, like he’d just woken. “I…um… Thought you
should know. I claimed Xander. Whole business, the old words, blood, sex,
claimed.” “That’s good. That’s
a relief. You both needed that.” “Yeah. It’s good.” “What’s wrong?” “Nothing’s…” Spike
stopped the automatic lie and sighed again.
“Something happened earlier. Made
me realise…” There was a long pause.
Spike drank. “Spike?” “You were right. I do
need you. To talk,” Spike added
hastily. “We need to talk.” “Sure. We can talk.” “About…about… I’ll
explain when I get there, just expect me.” “Not tonight.” “Why?” “You can’t just up and leave Xander in the middle of the
night.” “Oh. Right. No, you’re right. Tomorrow then. But…expect me.” “I’ll look forward to your company.” Spike ended the call at that, threw the handset onto the
sofa, and slumped down after it. Hamish
climbed up and sat beside him, leaning heavily on Spike and making the vampire
smile despite himself. “Want to come along?
Meet the old man? Couple of days,
that’s all. That’ll do the trick. Couple of days.” Spike knocked back the last of the scotch and stared, morosely, into his empty glass.
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