Rating: Mature Audiences – for content and themes
Summary: Illyria took her Pet as the demons closed in, but it was not a match made in heaven. Somehow an old friend found him. Given time, they might both just might rescue each other.
Spoilers: Canon is Post S7 BtVS and S5 AtS.
Warnings: M/M – if you don’t like boys together, don’t play here!
Disclaimer: Don’t own the characters nor make any money from stories etc, and bow down to their original creators Joss, et al., plus all the wonderful online writers who continue to give the Buffy/Angel verse characters life.
Dedicated to tempestsreach who inspired the story and deserves all the hugs that one could provide.
Leather and Lace
Gunn was already dead. He turned and tried to move toward Angel, to assist as his Grandsire wielded the sword and faced the creature just as recklessly and as bravely as a legendary St George. Sadly the outcome was not to be the same.
He felt Angel’s passing, barely able to see the dust begin to fall through his own tears as an iron fist grabbed him around the neck and took him by force. Spike slid through the vortex, it wasn’t intentional. He had seen it open next to Illyria and her blue figure being tugged toward it and had no time to scream his protest as his world went black.
The barely conscious Spike struggled to comprehend his surroundings as a servant of the newly reinstated deity spoke over him, “It is The God Illyria’s defender - the Pet… He must be tended to.”
The nausea of portal travel, the grief of losing his friends, the utter devastation and emptiness his demon felt at the loss of his Grandsire, left him temporarily unable to stand or even respond. His disorientation complete as the shift in dimensions also found him around the size of a lap dog in comparison to those in the room that were tending to him.
His game face disappeared as he was injected with something. He was vaguely aware of the huge tentacles and strange appendages that affixed a collar, restraints and adornments but he was still struggling to understand who they were referring to “The High One’s personal favorite”. Utterly confused and still suffering nausea, he was tugged across the stone floor, pushed into a gilded cage and carried to an enormous hall to have his cage suspended to the left of… Illyria. He watched in horror as the shell of Fred morphed into her original enormous multi armed form.
For all his feigned disinterest as Wesley struggled with Fred’s loss, Spike was an intellectual and one that cared for the beautiful scientist. Of all the team at Wolfram and Hart, Spike had spent more time with the ex God (ess). As he saw the tentacles immerging, he recognized the being immediately. It may not have been in the shell of Fred any more, but he could smell it, she was still… something he knew. In his hazed awareness he sniffed the air again. In the bizarre new dimension he resided in, it was at least… familiar.
Hanging high above what appeared to be a concert hall of several thousand enormous beings, he gave in to old human habits and curled up into a fetal position.
Some time into the meeting, one of her large blue tentacles squashed its way through the golden bars of his jail and stretched out to stroke his bound arms, then his face. Spike shivered at the caress and muttered a vehement, “Bloody Hell!!” under his breath before allowing tears to fall then sob openly as the fronds held him fast and the suckers on one tentacle fixed on his turning mark and began to pulse.
Spike had a privileged position, his role as Pet was one Illyria had long intended him to take, even though initially disappointed that she had to bind him before her seed encouraged his enthusiasm. As recommended by her advisors, the cage was placed on the floor beside her and the base of his cage replaced by a large human-like breast. It did seem to sooth her lovely Pet and she was fascinated that a half breed would respond to such comfort but pleased by his eventual compliance.
Before the teat, his arms were initially bound, he resisted all efforts to feed him until eventually, drugged and semi-conscious again, he was force fed. Then his floor was changed.
He was compelled by overwhelming hunger, to seek out and suckle the teat on the soft organ he was comforted by. Initially it was on his knees, confused, but within days, he needed no encouragement. Unbound he learned that stroking and gently squeezing the living, feeding organ resulted in a faster provision of the rich mixture. Spike quickly learned that the soft warm surface provided him with welcome heat and comfort. It was soft like the old leather of his duster and the liquid from the teat, though not human or animal blood, seemed to satisfy his new craving, though in the back of his mind he knew he was still hungry.
The liquid was addictive, wonderful and provided a sense of such euphoria, and after drinking it quickly became his habit to lie resting his cheek against the warm organ. He was convinced he could hear a pulse through the silky skin.
It was only a matter of weeks before his time in the cage was dominated by feeding, nuzzling and taking comfort from his soft living floor, often falling asleep still suckling and pawing his feeding teat like a tiny child.
Now, when the cage was opened, he knew to open himself to her attentions. High on her intoxicating liquid, he rode, swallowed and caressed the massive tendrils again and again, welcoming them as they entered every orifice, stroking every one of his erotic locations simultaneously, and preventing him from coming until she willed it.
After every one of their sessions, his was carried to another cathedral sized room where, semi aware and sated, he submitted to her minions while they washed, massaged, and stimulated him to readiness again. Erect and suitably prepared for his Mistress, he would then be returned to his cage to feed and fall asleep on his living pillow.
After three months of being filled, he realized intuitively, that the teat contained the Goddess’ own seed. In his more lucid moments he comprehended that every feeding moved him one step closer to completely losing himself and to dust, and yet he was beginning not to care.
The call of the Mistress was all. Whenever it was required, he lay in front of her throne and smiled as impossibly strong anaconda like tendrils snaked around every limb and his torso, holding him fast as he was entered and filled in all ways, occasionally being allowed to find completion before sated sleep engulfed him. Her audience tolerated her indulgences, initially fascinated by the small creature whose face changed as he was stimulated, but eventually they simply ignored him.
In his more lucid moments, Spike still raged against his situation, planned his escape and tried to access his demon. He justified to himself that by accepting her attentions willingly, he would achieve freedom in the end. But he had no clear picture of where he was, nor did he have any idea of how he would make an escape. As he pressed his lips over the massive teat and accepted her juices once more his last thought was a frightening moment of truth. He was dying yet yearned for the attentions of the monarch more than he wanted freedom and life.
Each time he took of her fluids, the mere thought of her entering him had him aching. Despite attempts to banish the rebellious thoughts, the idea of the length and thickness of her entering tendrils caused him to harden. And even her most innocuous touch now resulted in him instantly arching and pushing against her begging with his body, regardless of the many hundreds of observers that graced her court on that day.
Illyria was most pleased by her Pet. Though over time watched as he faded. The effects of her seed kept him compliant and ‘happy’, but she was distressed as his condition worsened. She began to miss the feisty vampire she seemed to remember from her short time on the Earthly plane.
Her affection for the half breed had been as much to do with his willingness to challenge her as it was his pleasing physical form. Now both had faded. The formerly irreverent, passionate, fighter for good, had consistently lost weight. Weight he did not have to lose. Her seed could not truly sustain her Pet, despite its effects on his psyche, and with no human or earthly animal blood available in her dimension, Spike now struggled even to stand, lying pliant and listless in her strong grip. Her physicians warned that her Pet would be dust… soon(!) unless returned to his own dimension.
So when a powerful magical force stimulated the dimensional link, she allowed the fading vampire to slip back into his cage, but not before a final feeding and a two day session of caresses and coupling that left the blonde vampire sobbing before falling into a coma as he registered her goodbye.
Xander had simply been visiting Los Angeles, taking a side trip to settle some of his parents’ matters after their demise in Sunnydale almost two years on. Wolfram and Hart had been recommended to him by Buffy. Her new Italian boyfriend had apparently mentioned them as they dealt with ‘unusual cases’, and Angel was supposedly in charge. He was stunned by the news, but really did not take much notice of the details and figured that at least they would know about Hellmouth issues.
He was amazed that his mention of Angel’s name saw him in a meeting with one of their top lawyers but a day after the call to the offices.
He nervously carried all the documentation he had been able to recover from the insurance company - statements of ownership of property, birth and death certificates and government statements issued to survivors of the ‘cataclysmic Sunnydale Earthquake’.
A statuesque brunette stood as he was ushered into her office by a pretty young receptionist that had stunning purple eyes, and that he could have sworn, eyelids that blinked from side to side. He dismissed the thought as an immaculately dressed woman stood and stepped from behind an enormous desk. Her obviously expensive silk scarf was expertly wound around an elegant neck and seemed to float behind her as she walked him over to the plush leather lounge suite. He was impressed by the apparent courtesy and relaxed as Lilah Morgan began a surprisingly informal meeting.
Lilah was quick to mention that Angel was currently 'absent' but that any friend of Angel’s would be looked after by the firm and concerns regards fees could easily be dispelled.
Despite all that, hours later Xander realized what it was that set off his ‘squick meter’. He had never mentioned the Scoobies, or Willow, or Anya, or how he had lost his eye, or the Hellmouth, or being a demon magnet, much less his association with Spike… or… anything really. Yet Lilah seemed extraordinarily well informed, and keen to have him ‘on board’.
It was finally her repeated mention of his various liaisons with demons and his friendship with Spike that caused him to cut the meeting short. He thanked her politely, sent his best regards to Angel (at which she smirked for some reason), promised to consider her offer, and left the building as fast as he could.
He rang Buffy immediately after the meeting, but it was late in Rome, the slayer was out, and he ended up talking to Andrew. The newly appointed watcher was just as confusing to talk to as he had always been, so the strong ‘stay away’ regarding Wolfram and Hart was rather lost in cagey references to the clandestine activities of the new Watchers’ Council, something about crazed Slayers and self promotional statements about Andrew’s own recent liaisons and activities. Xander eventually gave up and left a simple message to ‘say Hi’ to Buffy and Dawn.
The following day the ex-Scoobie was back in Lilah’s office, this time not missing the scar that looked strangely like her throat had been slit and feeling an old Scoobie sixth sense regards her not-quite-human status.
"What do you want of me…? Because, gotta say, not a fighter for anyone these days.”
“Mr Harris, you are a survivor of the original Hellmouth on this continent… indeed apparently you are one of it’s original ‘champions’. But we don’t need your fighting skills, merely that you might deliver a message and return to us with an item.” Lilah smiled but the act did not meet her eyes.
“All you need to do is deliver this message and pick up the payment owed to our company for returning the deity to her realm.”
“Illyria’s aid has agreed to the payment – but will not enter our dimension – hence your task.”
“Need the services of Wolfram and Hart right now – which I am happy to provide – though I am sure that an unemployed carpenter might be somewhat challenged by our normal fee. You do this and we will wave the fees entirely.
“I’m sure you have had more difficult assignments in your former experiences Mr Harris. Simply go there, speak to Falena and return with the jewel.” She threw him a photo of an enormous sapphire.
The blue jewel seemed to be set into the base of a thrown apparently occupied by a *very* large relative of the octopus. He also saw a human figure in a cage beside the creature. It gave some unfortunate information regarding the perspective of the image and Xander felt suddenly very, very cold. He had already nodded his agreement but instantly began to list off all the rotten decisions he’d made as a teenager, hardly registering the rest of the conversation.
“It shouldn’t be too hard – as a child of the Hellmouth I’m sure you will cope. Just rub the amulet anticlockwise three times when you have the item – it will bring you home.
“Oh and by the way Mr Harris, if you don’t die trying, you will be a very rich man when you return. I’m sure the Senior Partners are more than happy to compensate you for any ‘inconvenience’ the dimensional jump and your services incur… shall we say half a million dollars?”
Xander gulped and nodded absently as he accepted the talisman that would bring him back, then belatedly realized what had immediately begun happening. He looked back in horror as his legs were first tugged then suddenly began to disintegrate. He finally gave up all dignity and cried out as he saw and felt his body apparently vaporizing from the toes up. Despite Lilah’s evil grin he held onto the talisman with an iron grip in one hand and the note to the ‘deity’ from Wolfram and Hart, complete with a printout of the picture of the required stone in the other.
Seconds later he lay in front of the most frightening giant demon he had ever encountered. He did the only thing his body was capable of, given the dimensional change and the shock of circumstance. He passed out.
Xander woke at the feet of the God Illyria.
He did the only thing he think of, he knelt, stayed down, asked for Falena and held out the note.
The next time he awoke it was in an ornate cage on a pulsing soft surface, beside another male.
The skeletal form was attempting to feed from some sort of teat, but seemed unable to even lift his own head. The sickly figure turned toward him, and Xander gasped. Spike was dead… at least… according to Andrew and even once or twice before that, he couldn’t remember… but now… this…. as a child of the Hellmouth he thought he should have known.
He came too again and knelt up rather groggily as he realized he was in the open in front of the throne once more.
Illyria was petting the emaciated human figure he had seen the night before, and her booming voice was felt by Xander at gut level, though at least the message was clear. “The half breed, my pet, is failing. He has been most satisfactory. I would not have him dust, so release him into your care. You will keep and pleasure him. If he survives I will ensure you are rewarded. He has brought me pleasure at a time of adjustment, that is unusual for a Pet in our realm. I would have him well.
“Falena has informed me, and as the messenger for the Senior Partners you are, of course, always welcome in my kingdom. Please tell your Senior Partners that I now owe no-one, and am Lord of my domain once more. I thank the Wolf, the Ram and the Hart for allowing my escape even though my other form… was … limited.”
Xander tried to memorize all he had to convey as he was handed the egg sized sapphire then was led to the ornate cage, where the emaciated, naked and bound figure with long blonde hair now lay curled around a feeding post, at least that was Xander’s first impressions. It took only moments before Illyria began to pleasure her willing counterpart to awareness before lifting him and placing the form in Xander’s strong arms along with the sapphire and an old leather coat.
As disturbing as the whole scenario was, Xander was not prepared for the realization of just *who* the compliant figure was. He held the waif thin vampire to his chest and vaguely rubbed the amulet, happily finding himself and his burden in his LA hotel room on the bed seconds later.
He released Spike onto the bed and raced to the bathroom to throw up. As Xander washed his face he began to realize the enormity of what he now had to do and for whom.
It was Spike. He had had feelings for Spike in the final weeks of Sunnydale, they had come to ‘know’ each other as soldiers about to die sometimes do. He had grieved for him. And now he had to nurse him back to health, he had promised. A devil’s bargain perhaps, but a promise nevertheless.
He turned and looked at the figure curled up on the bed around the old duster, shivering. Regardless of promises, he would never let a friend down if it was in his power to help.
Xander covered Spike with the extra blanket from the hotel cupboard then departed, placing a ‘Do not disturb’ sign on the door and instructing the concierge that his brother was seriously ill and that he had to go out for medication, then left his cell phone number. He then pushed fifty dollars into the young man’s fist.
The combination of the money and the sincerely desperate look on the guest’s face, saw the young concierge, Jason, breaking protocol and called Xander back for a moment. “Call me if you are concerned Sir. I can check and call a physician within minutes if things become worse.”
In Xander’s stressed state the pain in his chest forced far too much moisture into his eyes apparently. The strapping young man, aspiring actor Jason, raced around the counter and led the upset guest to a seat in a private corner of the lobby, while he organized a car to take Xander wherever he needed to go.
Xander nodded gratefully, still unable to work out why the whole situation threw him so badly. But it had the right effect. Jason was true to his word and within fifteen minutes and three blocks away, he delivered a very large gem, the amulet and Illyria’s message to a rather surprised Lilah.
Two minutes later her assistant delivered a pile of paperwork and whispered a message. “Well done, Mr Harris, it seems you have delivered.” She stepped across the room, handing Xander the completed law work and evidence of payment – in record fast time it seemed. “And so have we.”
Lilah stood rather imperiously and walked across the room, then turned to approach his chair, “You will find everything is in order and the agreed upon bonus has already gone into your designated account.”
She moved closer to him, sat on the edge of the desk and crossed her shapely long legs before adding, “You know, I *do* wish you would consider working for us on a more… permanent basis. The Senior Partners are most impressed with your work I’m sure.”
Xander already felt edgy and just needed to leave. “Thanks… for the cash and all that, but I um… I doubt that you need a carpenter or construction worker… so…”
Lilah smirked and pushed the issue in her most seductive tones, “Oh you would be surprised who we take on… Alexander.”
“I… I’ve already made my decision so thanks, but um… no thanks… I appreciate your time.”
He stood and made a hasty retreat to the sounds of Lilah who was already on her internal phone reporting, “The stone has been recovered. No sir he didn’t. Yes I will insure…” but the door of the elevator closed and he was away.
He checked his cell phone as he reentered the car after a side trip to the hospital. Jason had rung to report all was quiet. On his way into the building he thanked the young man for his attentiveness.
But Xander could hear whimpering from the hotel room even before he entered.
He dropped his bags at the door and slammed it shut as soon as he took in the scene.
Spike was arching of the bed, limbs contorted and his entire form obviously in agony. He was sweating, panting and had clearly been tearing at his own skin for some time, judging by the amount of blood on the sheets and the bloodied strips of flesh torn from his arms and face.
Despite his charge being in game face, Xander raced toward the bed and without thinking, pulled the sickly stricken figure into his arms, capturing the hands that were about to begin attacking the already abused flesh yet again.
“No!!! Come on Spike! Shhh! Shhh… it’s OK. It’s OK. Hold onto me… OK?? Just hold onto me!”
The vampire was so weak that Xander had no trouble subduing the vampire. He pulled Spike tight against his chest and simply stilled until the fitting subsided, all the while kicking himself for taking so long at the lawyers, and yet feeling somewhat annoyed that he now had a new problem on his hands.
Eventually the convulsions ended and the figure in his arms went utterly limp, then awareness seemed to return a little and Spike curled toward the warmth of the body holding him, and the vampire began to cry.
In an instinctively parental gesture, Xander sat up against the head board and pulled the dangerously thin, tortured figure into his lap. He rested the vampire’s head on his right shoulder and began whispering nonsensical words as the last shudders of whatever fit had struck his charge passed.
Spike seemed to sleep for a few minutes but eventually, instinctively began to lick the neck that was so near.
Xander pulled away abruptly, but then remembered his shopping. He gently rolled Spike onto the bed and retrieved the six packets of outdated human blood from his backpack. It had only been a ten minute side-trip and a single call to find the precious fluid (and sometimes he was truly pleased he had Hellmouth experience!).
As the valiant human wandered to the bathroom to fill the basin with hot water and soak three of the packets, he could not fail to see the figure on the bed curl up again and begin to rock and whimper.
He put more water in the bowl and placed the remaining bags in while he took the first of his booty into the bedroom to feed his friend.
Spike was keening and rocking as if in pain as Xander approached with the three precious bags wrapped in a hand towel. He set the food down on the side table before easing the duster out of Spike’s tight grip and covered the vampire with the treasured garment. He then picked up the blanket that had been tossed off sometime during the vampire’s previous thrashing and threw it over the top of the precious leather. Easing Spike’s head into his lap, he nicked the seal off the blood bag with a pair of nail clippers, and proceeded to squeeze it gently into the barely conscious vampire’s mouth.
As the first of the blood began to trickle out of the lax mouth, Xander stroked the limp hair and spoke in tones that were more reminiscent of a desperate, caring parent than a ‘battle buddy”.
“C’mon Spike, just for ol’ Xan… c’mon… you can do it… *Please* Spike, just a little… please??”
It was no good. Xander had read about addicts going ‘cold turkey’, and this seemed just as bad. The vampire seemed to have no comprehension of his whereabouts, the withdrawals from whatever he had been fed were causing him to pant and sweat despite his lack of body heat or need to do either, and the time since he had eaten was now apparently so long that even his demon was confused.
Xander was desperate. He rang Jason, the concierge. The young man was just about to go off shift, but still managed to arrange for a drug store to deliver Xander’s request of a feeding tube designed for intubation of those incapable of swallowing, and amount of electrolytes (at least Spike did end up feeding from his friend, he would have a ‘replenisher’).
Spike was thankfully unconscious as the ex Scoobie pulled the skeletal figure across his lap, let the head fall back, and the mouth open slightly before inexpertly, gently and very very slowly, pushing the tube into place. The gag reflex seemed absent, Spike’s face did not change and after five tense minutes, Xander poured the reheated blood into the reservoir then squeezed slowly.
Spike did not respond. Even three bags of blood later there was nothing.
Xander reluctantly withdrew the tube and petted the inert figure before carefully shifting the thin body a little and cleaning up the evidence of the vampire’s meal. He reassured himself, at least Spike had retained the liquid.
When he returned to the bedroom, he noted that the duster had instinctively been pulled closer to Spike’s nose, and that the blanket was still in place. It was something.
Spike shivered through the night. Initially Xander had slept in the chair, but eventually the chattering teeth and occasional whimper caused him to do something utterly instinctive. He slid behind the shattered individual spooned the shaking body and hugged him back into his own warmth. It felt right and they both relaxed and slept dreamlessly.
But it was a short lived respite. Xander was woken at around five am to violent convulsions that saw his sick friend in game face and still utterly without comprehension of his circumstance.
Xander did his best to stop the thrashing arms and hold Spike on the bed as the fragile body under him thrashed and contorted.
When there was no respite, he did the only thing he could think of. Still lying on top of his friend he reached for the Swiss Army knife that he always traveled with, flicked open the smaller blade and winced as he opened his left wrist.
He held Spike even tighter as he pressed the opening to the mouth of the only male, the *only* vampire, he had ever truly cared for.
After what seemed hours, though was only minutes, Xander felt the weak licking of a tongue and finally the suckling action, as lips sealed around the small wound and took the offering. Xander found himself oddly moved to tears. Somehow he knew that his companion would survive, and yet Spike had not yet regained consciousness.
He sent a prayer to a variety of deities, hoping that one of them might care for the ensouled undead, and assuring them that the friend in his arms deserved their every attention.
Around seven am the following morning, he was still lying with his arms around a friend and smiled semiconsciously as the thin figure edged closer. He pulled the male into a tight hug and wrapped a proprietary leg over the lower leg of the wasted legs of his friend.
They woke entwined.
Spike looked up apologetically then began to cry silently. Finally sleeping again
Later that afternoon, Xander had freed himself from the tight hold of his Scoobie friend of old, sped to the kitchen, to return with food for the distressed vampire.
Spike was lucid enough on the second evening of his feeding of human blood to register who held him.
Xander offered up the feeding tube with a rather sheepish smile, “Do I need to…”
Spike stared at the medical implement, then turned his face away in shame whispering, “You should have staked me! I am …. so weak… Ghod… I was… just make me dust…”
“Ho no… Opinions vary buddy!”
“She… then you and this…. Pfff… sh…should be-easy-c’mon… m’a whore…. Sfff dust… m’ dust…!”
“I would, but no one fitting that description is here … so you better start thinking about where you’re going to hang that duster, cause I figure you’re staying. And gotta say… newly reasonably wealthy here, so you might just have it good as the kept man.”
Xander did not expect the tears, or the gratitude, or the compliance, or the brutal honesty. The vampire curled in onto the ancient leather and began to cry again.
He thought he knew Spike, but was still at a loss in some areas. There was the history and the sensitive man; there was a thwarted lover many times over by various uncaring partners; there was the denied son - at least twice, first as human then as demon; there was the damaged vampire, by the Grandsire then courtesy of the Initiative then Wolfram and Hart then by his own hand; and finally he was burnt by the repentant soul and died then rose the hero; and strangely he ended as he was now, the near starved lover of an immortal being rescued by an old friend who lifted him into his arms and cared enough to revive him.
The brunette gave up all pretence of treating Spike as he might have done previously and slid onto the bed beside him. There was no dignity in the vampire’s next act. He knew the chocolate colored eyes staring at him worriedly. All he managed was, “Oh Pet…” before relaxing into the warm hug then sobbing uncontrollably until he finally fell asleep.
Xander accepted the apparently strange need for his unstable vampire friend to nuzzle and lick his right nipple repetitively even when apparently unconscious, though he did shift with embarrassment as his body automatically responded to the stimulation. Despite his own discomfort, he allowed the comfort to continue and repetitively stroked the hair of the desperate figure in his arms.
Xander pulled the old duster up to cover them both, then fell asleep entwined with his distressed friend remaining in an intimate embrace, both finally enjoying a dreamless, peaceful sleep.
The following day the pattern was much the same, he went out early this time independently, thanking the lovely Jason for his offer of a car, but claiming to need the exercise.
His contact at the hospital was ironically a relative of Clem’s and employed as one of their physically unusual quota in ‘PC-speak’. Xander had reflected on the ‘six degrees’ nature of his life when on the second day, Roger sent him away with two bonus bags (a total of twelve in all), six different varieties of strong painkillers, and well wishes from Clem … who was apparently happily living in Las Vegas somewhere.
Xander thanked the floppy skinned Roger, who had spent some half hour proudly explaining his ear operation to remove the ‘flaps’ ten years previously, then proceeded to take out his brown colored contacts to reveal the bright red eyes of the demon, grinning wildly at the deception. Xander indulged the rather endearing character, smiled and patted the flabby arm, just glad that Roger was willing to pass the precious out of date bags Xander’s way, and complicit as to why.
He returned to the hotel, with food for himself also. In his years following Sunnydale, the need for Twinkies and pizza had given way to a slightly more healthy diet. He now carried sour dough bread, tomatoes, lettuce, dressing and a salami, along with a large container of grapefruit juice.
With the swipe card/key in his mouth, he hefted the two enormous bags into the room and onto the ‘coffee maker bench’, and kicked the door closed, only to notice that the bed was empty.
He panicked. Had someone come and found Spike? Was there some reversal? Had he simply come to and left? Or not come to and walked into the sun? The various catastrophic scenarios played out in his head until he heard a sob from the corner of the bed farthest from the door.
Spike was curled up tightly hugging his duster again, rocking and keening, his distress seemed even worse. It appeared as though he must have fallen from the bed judging by the bruise over one eye and the tangle of bed clothes on the floor in front and around him. Xander noted Spike’s closed eyes, the rocking, the hand that tugged repeatedly at the soft leather to stroke his left cheek, and his rhythmic sucking on the thumb of his right hand.
He suddenly remembered the cage and realized his error. Spike had not fed since the intubation and a tiny amount from Xander’s wrist the previous evening, simply refusing any cup or straw or even the bags. Xander was unprepared to intubate a conscious vampire, but had a different idea. The vampire had spent (from Falena’s vague estimation when questioned) close to twelve months exclusively feeding from the teat. If it was the comfort of the suckling and the teat he needed, Xander could do that.
Trusting that Spike’s almost catatonic state would cause him to stay put for a time, the brunette raced back out to find a drug store. He purchased an infant’s bottle and teats for an older child, then as an after thought, purchased some disposable surgical gloves.
Spike, as he had predicted, had not moved by the time he returned. He filled the bottle with warm blood and four of the strongest crushed up painkillers and presented it to Spike. The vampire made a cursory attempt at suckling but finally turned away. So Xander tried plan B.
He tugged one of the surgical gloves from the dispensing box, tied off all fingers but the middle finger, then filled it with the precious fluid. The glove expanded and distorted with the warm blood, but remained in tact.
Xander brushed the soft latex against Spike’s cheek and gently eased out the thumb that was firmly planted in his patient’s mouth. He then pierced the end of the glove finger with a needle and pushed the now oddly distended finger of the glove into Spike’s still slightly open mouth. Spike gave a relieved groan then fell into gameface and began to drink, stroking the bag much as he would have done to the pulsing floor when feeding from the teat in his former cage.
Xander found himself holding the bag with one hand and petting Spike’s unruly hair with the other. When he stood to replenish the bag Xander heard his charge moan a little in protestation, but the sound was replaced progressively by satisfied sighs as two, three, then four pints of blood were fed to the starved figure via the strange glove.
And so the pattern continued for an entire week. Spike’s shivers and convulsions slowly became less, and Xander collected supplies and fed his charge from the gloves. And with assistance from the lovely Jason, he extended his stay to a fortnight, negotiating a weekly rate with the hotel – just until he was able to find accommodation and permanent employment for himself.
Lilah was given the report. “Just keep track of him. Who is the mystery ‘brother’? Can we confirm if he’s gay – I’m thinking more lover than relative!”
“The concierge, one Jason Elms, was not particularly helpful beyond confirming that Mr X. Harris and a Mr W. Harris are staying at the premises but would not release the room number etc. As you might note, we followed our client from the hotel on several occasions. His primary destinations being the hospital downtown and a local drugstore. We were unsuccessful in ascertaining his reason for visiting the hospital other than he is purchasing various items clandestinely for cash. His purchases at the drugstore would indicate he is caring for a seriously ill individual, though without medical records it is impossible to confirm the ailment or injury.”
Lilah smirked wickedly, “Hmm so, he turns up here after two plus years of wandering around Africa, has no recorded siblings, is suddenly keen to source his parents’ funds (plus some), *and* has a sick individual in his care… Pursue the gay angle – gut feeling says AIDS for the friend. Secrecy spells he wants it kept quiet, and isolation means no one to run to for him and his little f#@$ toy."
She smiled triumphantly, stood, handed back the file and stated, “My dear Stacy, this makes our job a whole lot easier. Mr Harris seems firmly in his closet… and what did you say he is seeking for employment?"
“Construction work and project management, Ma’am”
“Excellent! Convincing him to acquiesce is always so much easier if he has some dirty little secrets he’s trying to hide. I think that for now, we ‘ease’ his way into the workforce (one of our clients of course) as appropriate counselor."
“Oh minimum at this stage. I think we have enough.”
The young woman tucked the file under one arm and nodded.
“We will review in three months, and see then if the friend has dearly departed. Grief combined with shame is always such a delicious combination when it comes to motivating people. The Senior Partners are still interested in this one, and given his Hellmouth experience and his recent success, I suspect they have the Special Projects area in mind... Oh and Stacy…?” The woman who had turned to leave paused and turned to her superior.
“Yes Ms Morgan?”
“If you *ever* wear those apologies for shoes into the office again, I will have subdued and your feet replaced by the claws of a raptor on very same day, clear?” Lilah smiled sweetly but Stacy knew the threat was serious.
She paled, replied ‘Yes Ma’am” and rushed out.
The painkillers helped Spike relax, and the imbibing of good quality human blood was having a visible affect on Xander's still recovering charge, the vampire's gaunt cheeks, wasted limbs and sunken eye sockets all gradually filling out.
Most of the self inflicted wounds had at least begun to heal, and his periods of lucidity seemed to be extending. Although the dreadful disorientation that still seemed to take over occasionally and saw the formerly proud Master Vampire begging for food or apparently offering himself for pleasure followed by distressed whimpering when the offer was not taken. Xander was still horrified by this behavior but learned in the first week, that he could manage it by firmly but gently, tipping the vampire onto his side then spooning him from the back, holding tight and whispering soothingly into his ear, stroking him until Spike calmed and slept.
What worried Xander the most, was Spike’s apparent need for the feeding teat and his virtually obsessive stroking of soft surfaces. It was obvious with his leather duster but also included the silky throw cushions on the bed; and Xander’s arm when he was being held, or anything really. Xander ended up in the shower on one embarrassing occasion, after he woke to a hand rubbing rhythmically over the slippery fabric covering his unbelievably hard erection.
But Spike did seem to be improving overall. He certainly spoke a little, though rarely, if ever, initiated a conversation, and his compliance and general lack of ‘Big Bad’ attitude still seemed odd. Xander began to wonder if there had been permanent damage done. He slowly learned of the horror that had been his starving friend’s life, from the time Spike burned up in the Hellmouth to his rescue from Illyria’s dimension by Xander.
Each mention of the final fight in the alley evoked tears. The brunette never failed to hold his friend and allowed the grief to be somewhat healed in the safety of a friend’s arms.
Jason knocked on their door quietly toward the end of their third week at the hotel. The tall blonde with the body obviously sculpted by hours of gym work, was standing with a large box in his arms and smiled as Xander opened the door.
“I hope this is a good time, I just thought you might enjoy some home made frittata and other bits and pieces. Is your brother up to eating soup? My partner Mark made a *spectacular* minestrone for last night’s dinner party and we had a ton over. There’s probably enough for two sittings in the tub there – Come down and I’ll heat it for you any time you want. Oh, and I put in some fresh bagels and OJ from our favorite bakery... Well we got extras this morning. You know never let a bagel go to waste?!”
Xander recognized the blatant lie but was more than a little overwhelmed by the gesture, and stood at the door running his fingers nervously through his hair, finally realizing Jason was looking decidedly crestfallen and obviously assuming he had done something wrong. “Oh Geez! Sorry! It’s just that um… God um… thanks. This is amazing… Geez come in please! Thanks!”
Xander didn’t miss the fact that Jason was in his ‘civvies’, washed out blue designer jeans and an expensive but casual button down surf shirt.
“You just starting your shift then?”
As the young man absently put the box on the suitcase stand, Jason’s hazel eyes wandered to the scene in the sick room and figure in the bed. The curtains were drawn blocking out virtually all the light and a lamp had been switched on. He could see the blond curls pushing out from under the covers, and the extremely pale slim hand resting on the pillow. He also didn’t fail to notice the surgical gloves and pile of painkillers on the sideboard.
Answering belatedly he finally turned back to Xander,“Um… no, day off.”
Xander noted the direction of the man’s gaze, and was about to say something but heard Spike’s weak call.
Hoping that it was one of Spike's more lucid periods, Xander moved across to stroke the curls away from the just awakening figure. Completing the picture of an invalid, Xander helped Spike to sitting propped up on five pillows, making sure to keep the constantly caressing hand on the silky cushion, then turned to Jason.
“Hey Jason, let me introduce you to William, aka Spike (old nickname…) Ummm Spike, Jason here is the guy at the front desk that has, well, done loads for us really.” Xander looked to try to see if Spike was taking in what was being said and knew the message had landed when azure blue eyes focused on their visitor.
A still sleepy Spike said, “Appreciated mate, Xan here’s a right champ puttin’ up with yours truly.”
Jason moved toward the bed and leaned forward to shake the rather ethereally beautiful man’s hand. He hadn’t missed the English accent, or the affectionate squeeze on the hand Xander gave his ‘brother’ before the introduction.
“Nice to meet you… Just dropped in some goodies for you folks – Xan here has been pretty generous with the tips and umm…” He toed the ground a little, “Anyway, I'd better head off, boyfriend is waiting in the carpark… Hey look when you feel up to it, why don’t we head out for a bit of an excursion – you know, surf’s not that far away – an hour on the beach could be fun?”
“Right thoughtful of you, but I’m afraid ol’ Xan here’ll have to do that trip solo. Me, got an allergy to sunlight – permanent condition.”
“Oh, of course sorry – guess some of the side effects are a real bitch hey. Well, maybe a film or something…”
Spike didn’t bother to process the assumptions being made by the blonde too carefully and simply said, “Sounds lovely, Pet.”
Spike was already half asleep again. It was only noon and he had simply woken a little missing his warm bed companion. Now, reassured, he closed his eyes and snuggled down a little. Xander tucked the covers up and pushed the covers up further, then ushered Jason to the door.
Jason tried to imagine what he would do if Mark was ever that ill, and looked back at the now sleeping figure, and then to the drawn face of Xander. He decided to take a punt, “I don’t know what I’d do if my partner Mark got that ill. You are so brave Xander, so brave. But it’s for better or for worse, despite the gender yeah?”
Xander went wide eyed then began a half hearted protest, “Broth…” but was silenced by Jason’s large kindly hand gripping his shoulder and a knowing smile. “It’s OK buddy. ‘Brothers’ I get it… but you just let me know if I can do anything else… anything! OK…”
Xander smiled weakly, genuinely grateful, “Yeah… thanks.”
“Oh and by the way, John on the desk said to tell you, some construction company called, said you had been recommended to them by a friend of a friend. The guy was pretty keen to get you started and said he’d drop the contract off today… Anyway I’ve got a ‘brother’ to attend to and a day off.” He winked and headed out the door before adding as an after thought, “And Xander… hang in there OK? He’s worth it.”
There had been light and an old friend and he thought they had talked… but he couldn’t stay awake and when he woke again it was dark and he felt the ache.
So he let tears flow, because he knew she understood tears since Wesley… but she didn’t attend him, yet there were warm arms and there was… feeding… and the nice touch… it wasn’t the floor but it was touch. And so he slept again.
He woke again to dark, was he back in his dimension? Their dimension… the one where the food tasted right, and there were people he knew or at least were his size, where her 'primordial scum' resided, where his Sire had… he could not continue with his thoughts. He was her prized pet now, if she opened his cage, he opened himself… the other world was gone… he waited for her attentions, and the ensouled half breed let his tears fall silently.
Xander was frantic. Spike had been fine after Jason’s visit, sleeping contentedly without even the need for the duster. Xander wandered down to reception worrying a little at just what Jason had assumed, though felt strangely… comfortable that others might think he and Spike were a couple.
He had simply gone down to pick up the message from the front desk and pay another week’s rent, then thanked John, who smiled and made some comment about the LA Lakers who were apparently playing that night. Xander had nodded and absently promised to watch the match on television. Yet as he returned, it seemed all hell had broken loose for his friend.
Spike was on the floor again still asleep but alternately whimpering and begging.
He slammed the door, swiftly threw some blood into a basin of hot water and began to tie off fingers on yet another glove.
After minutes of waiting and the tentacles not touching him, something was not right.
Then he realized. It was obvious. It had happened so many times… they *must* have moved the court again, because his cage was all wrong and he couldn’t get a purchase on the teat. It always happened when she went out of the palace… He had learned. He kept getting knocked off when her servants were rough with the cage. And sometimes she was too preoccupied to fill the feeding floor and the base would shrink and her servants would forget, so he would hunger for days.
Sometimes they would simply take him out and tie him to her throne, and then it was always hard and cold and his stomach would ache until she noticed. But then there was bliss as she was always sorry, and would cradle him in her tentacles as he fed from the source. And he was able to take his time suckling and laving the warm frond until it gave up its prize, her worry for his wellbeing encompassed in the fronds stroking over his torso, through his hair, and pleasuring him as he drank.
It must be that! Because he felt himself being lifted and was sure he could feel her frond caressing his hair and stroking his body, so he knew to stay lax and compliant. He hungered for her spellings, his stomach growled and felt twisted, though he knew his begging would mean nothing. So he waited, because she always rewarded him when he waited. Lately he knew that waiting was easier because he was always so very tired, but he was content with his body being weaker, because he knew that waiting patiently was always rewarded, and now lying still was easy, since now, it was all he could manage.
Xander felt Spike go limp as he lifted the still light male form back onto the bed. He grabbed the duster and pressed it into Spike’s arms then reorganized the covers around the shivering figure before deciding to slide in beside him to cradle his friend. He then held the warm feeding glove to the lax mouth and waited.
In his fragile state, when in other palaces or the courts of one her ‘seconds’ on a visit, Illyria was careful to give instructions for her Pet, but her servants sometimes forgot to pass on the message to the staff of the household.
Spike mused… they must be in the Phi court – they never gave him his floor in the Phi court. And Illyria always instructed her minions that if he was found without his floor, they should always provide his comfort garment… the old leather duster and she should be informed immediately. And he had the leather in his arms, so...
A few seconds later the theory was endorsed. If denied his floor, then his mistress Illyria would also feed him directly from one of her fronds when she was finished with her business for the day. It was his reward and his only solace. And now he was drinking from what felt like one of her soft fronds, and could feel her stroking him with another of her appendages as he suckled, so he calmed and rubbed against the leather… and suckled… and was stroked… But in the back of his mind something triggered distress.
It wasn’t her juices, it was an old memory… his original food was coming from the frond... then not a frond... a teat, and he knew this… It was human blood and comfort and...
Spike came to full consciousness with a jolt, pulled off the feeding glove and without thought scrambled backwards in confusion and inexplicable terror, only to tip off the bed yet again, this time hitting his head hard on the side table on the way down. He ended in an inelegant heap on the floor for the third time in as many days.
Xander did as he had done each time this had happened. He tied off the top of the glove so it would not leak, pushed back the bedcovers and grabbed the duster, then moved around the bed, squatted down and pushed the duster into the arms of the now lucent but utterly upset vampire. He then lifted Spike back into bed before sliding in to spoon him from behind.
Xander always held tight and whispered words of comfort whilst slowly caressing his friend, and as Spike drifted off into slumber again. Xander would then pull the covers over both of them to remain until he was sure the nightmares had passed and Spike was sleeping peacefully once more.
It was three weeks since Spike’s rescue and human carer was beginning to wonder just how long it would take for Spike to recover… and how on earth he was going to be able to take up a day job if these episodes were to continue – regardless of their frequency.
Spike woke again late evening, this time with a slight frown. He was still spooned in a warm hug and recognized the scent now. He knew him. His lightly snoozing protector, Xander, was holding him tight.
He also knew he was cradling his own duster like a small child with a comfort blanket, but still pulled it a little closer as he remembered the reason for his sore head and the tender care he had been shown. He pushed back into the warmth for a moment, then reached up to his own injured hairline, still sporting a nasty gash that he had vague memories of the precursor to his fall, then began to pet the old leather again.
Xander had been awake since Spike started to move some five minutes earlier, and sported an unbelievably awful head ache courtesy of lack of sleep, food and very real worry for a friend, yet still managed to hug Spike from behind, and rasped “Hey buddy, you OK?” hoping the blonde might again be lucid.
He was rewarded when the figure in his arms rolled so their torsos touched and the never still hands caressed his back and hair. He heard the whispered words “Oh Luv, thank you … but please… let me…”, then was shocked as a soft cool mouth found his. At that moment Xander’s world shifted and so did Spike’s.
They already had a connection, and had fooled around a little once pre Hellmouth obliteration. And more recently when Spike cried and shook as Xander had petted him, twice watching with some embarrassment as the semiconscious, disorientated friend humped the bed a little with Xander’s very platonic (meant to be soothing) stroking, then cleaned him up after the vampire spilled his seed.
The beautiful figure in his arms now simply gave himself to Xander without malice, or apparently any more forethought than a child throwing himself into the arms of a parent. There was unconditional love and a complete trust in his rescuer, all being conveyed in the most primal of ways.
Xander felt like Sire, his protector, and Spike continued to kiss the human holding him. From his oldest memories of Angelus, he recalled that stroking the shaft between the strong thighs was required when trying to please Sire, while proper servicing came later.
Xander was already aroused by the unexpected kiss, so groaned at the touch and his brain caught up with his body, but then gave in to the wonderful sensations and began to deepen the kiss.
Spike pushed further into the embrace, finally feeling whole again.
Illyria had always been attentive even when she knew her pet was dying, and now, finally, his rescuer had determined what Spike was missing.
Spike knew it was Xander now, yet intuitively and physically (as he felt his savior harden) felt his attentions were welcome, so did everything he could think of to convey his gratitude in his actions. This beautiful brunette had saved him, cared for and… loved him, and he was not one to take that lightly, even if the love was only that of a friend or family.
In the back of Xander’s mind, he kept up the mantra of ‘not gay, don’t take advantage, need to slow down’, but it only lasted for a minute or so, then he simply gave in to the expert touches and amorous lips.
Finally, as hard length met hard length, and they caressed their most intimate parts, the human gave in to need, as they rubbed erection against erection and continued to kiss until both stilled, arched a little simultaneously, then climaxed. Xander on the inside of his shorts, and Spike wetting a pair of Xander’s loose pajama bottoms that he had been dressed in by his lovely carer from their first day together.
They were both shocked, Xander embarrassed, and yet both still held their tender embrace.
The following day there was no illusion or embarrassment. Spike serviced his savior, waking him with a mouth and throat used to much longer appendages swallowing Xander’s member. It was nothing but the wonderful feeling of being filled and pleasing his friend. Or at least it was until the object of his attentions woke as he climaxed, realized the reason and dragged Spike up for a passionate kiss before processing what had occurred, calmed and said, “Not saying I didn’t like it but… um… You don’t have to do that you know…”
“Wanted to… always made her happy… and I’m yours now so… need to do what…”
At which Xander pushed away, horrified, “Woah there! What’s with the ownership thingy?”
Spike looked crestfallen, then wide eyed and tearful, as he faced Xander, “Illyriah *gave* me to you… because I was… failing her… so now… and… I really thought… you were happy with me… that you wanted me, I’m sorry. My mistake.” Spike turned his face away and curled in on himself. Still confused by vivid dreams that felt real; and a body that was returning to health; and knowing his kind carer who fed him blood and held him had enjoyed his attentions; and still compelled to act as his training and the residual effects of Illyria’s seed from the past year had determined; and now… he felt… utterly lost.
Xander was beyond distressed. He had obviously, though quite innocently, injured his friend. This formerly proud Master Vampire, the savior of their Earth, at least twice apparently, seemed... broken.
He stepped off the bed and moved around the mattress until at Spike’s front. He then slowly but forcibly uncurled the figure who was again holding the leather duster, rocking and keening, eyes shut tight and tears dripping across his nose and all the way down the other side to drip onto the sheets.
Holding Spike with his full body length, legs over legs and almost pinning him to the bed with his torso, he tilted the pale face so Spike had no choice but to look into the chocolate eyes.
Xander then whispered his message as if to a frightened child, and with as much love as he could engender in a few words,“Hey… Hey! Come on Spike… Please! I… um… I just meant that I don’t *own* you… no one does… Please, please! Just look at me for a second will you. I want to help you, and I liked what we did (which now that I say it, it is a little unexpected…), but I need… well… you don’t have to… you know, unless you want to OK??!!… And once you’re well…then... Anyway… just please…”
Xander had no idea how to end the conversation so simply hugged the smaller figure to his chest and was reassured as a cool mouth sought his warm one and the lips parted, inviting him in.
The phone rang at ten am. There was a representative of the construction company waiting in the foyer. He untangled himself from his vampire, kissed the still sleepy friend chastely, then dressed quickly to meet his prospective new employer.
Looking back at the pretty male form in his bed as he left the room, he hoped that, for the first time in his life… things might finally be working out.
The sound of a rolling frame and skidding of nails on marble announced Lilah’s assistant, before the girl managed to make it to the carpet. Three days previously she had worn yet another pair of unacceptable shoes, and Lilah had carried out her threat.
On her way out of the office of the Senior Partner’s favorite employee, Stacy had been subdued, drugged, and… from now on, would never need to wear heels again when in the office or, for that matter, be able to wear a short skirt in public.
Her lower legs and feet had been replaced (as threatened) by those of an eagle, rendering her some five inches shorter and struggling to stand, let alone walk, on a good day. On the bright side, she could kill with her talons given the right circumstance, could grip onto gym bars or various things around the house, and found that sport shoes and long track pants accommodated her special needs when out of the office. Her original legs and feet had apparently gone to a ‘needy client’.
But she *had* learned, as too many others before her, that Ms Morgan was always true to her word, and Stacy was not prepared to risk another slip up, so the young woman pulled the documents from her carry basket, and head down, handed the notes to Lilah.
“Ms Morgan…? Here’s the information you requested.”
Lilah smirked at the walking frame, the scaly legs, and the talons that were currently stuck into her carpet. She relished the young woman’s submission and fear.
“So this Concierge is confirmed as a homosexual?
Stacy shifted uncomfortably and leaned hard on her walker, “Yes Ma’am”. Her talons caught uncomfortably in the loops of the carpet and legs ached terribly as she tried to concentrate, but worried more that her newly purchased outfit might also prove inadequate and engender yet more ‘alterations’. She had seen Wendy in accounts and did *not* want a tail!
“The individual Jason McNaulty is in a long term relationship with one Mark Houlihan. And it seems has befriended Mr Harris.”
“Good. And Harris had taken the position with Griggmans?”
“Fine. Then all we need is confirmation of the mystery lover.”
“Ma’am surveillance has not been able to provide anything but audio to date as the curtains are constantly drawn, and even the audio is rather muffled. It seems the subject is quite ill and has spent the best part of the month sleeping. We have not been present on a twenty four hour basis, but there is certainly no evidence of sexual congress while we have been monitoring.”
“Well… What *have* we got?”
“We were able to record the conversation between Mr McNaulty and Mr Harris on several occasions when they were in the lobby, and mention was made of the boyfriend, a person going by the name of William Harris. Gleaning from the conversation, it’s apparent the individual is suffering some form of cancer, or possibly AIDS. The person has not left the room since they arrived and judging by the concierge’s comments, is extremely ill, but apparently recovering.”
“So he’s going by the name of his partner?”
“They registered as brothers, so yes ma’am.” Stacy nervously handed over the incomplete transcripts
“Brothers my ass! You get that reconnaissance to get photos or *something* we can use, or I *will* give you feathers to match those talons”
Stacy looked up wide eyed. She had no idea how the surveillance team could be more effective but she would try everything she could think of. She *really* didn’t want a feathered tail to go with her lower limbs!
The contract with Griggmans was fairly standard. Though the nervous young man from the company was anything but, and seemed terribly enthusiastic to have Xander’s signature on the spot.
Xander couldn’t really understand the urgency but eventually learned that one of Griggmans’ senior project managers had met with a nasty accident at home and the company needed the role filled, if only temporarily – six month contract guaranteed. They seemed unconcerned when Xander mentioned his ill sibling and requested that he spend lunchtime off the site.
He read through the material carefully then signed without taking particular note of the letterhead. Griggmans was certainly at the top, but underneath were the insignias of their partners the First National Bank, Enron, Komatsu…. and Wolfram and Hart.
Xander was sitting on the bed with Spike’s head cradled by his left arm. He stroked the blonde who was snoozing as Xander reviewed the details of the project prior to his first day.
He had explained some of the job to Spike and pushed a new cellphone into the vampire’s hands before Spike had given in to fatigue – Xander’s number was on fast dial. He had also arranged with Jason to have someone look in on Spike once or twice in both the morning and afternoon. If there was a problem he would be alerted.
Jason asked about ‘meals and meds’ but dropped the issue when Xander looked stressed, then quickly added that he would return every lunchtime to “help William with that stuff”.
Xander’s first day was hectic and worrying.
He rang the hotel four times before lunch, Jason finally heading up to check on William himself, only to report that Xander’s ‘brother’ was sleeping peacefully. Jason didn’t miss the relief in Xander’s voice as the message was gratefully received.
The afternoon was a little better, although the traffic dreadful and the wait at the hospital lengthy as he purchased the week’s supply of blood. By the time Xander arrived home, Spike was propped up in bed listening to the now off duty Jason (who was perched on the end of the bed) expounding the delights offered by various nightclubs in the central LA area.
Xander grinned as he slammed the door with a “Hi honey I’m home” statement and squeezed Jason’s shoulder whispering, “Thanks buddy,” as he moved to stroke Spike’s hair before kissing it with a relieved “Hey…”
Jason excused himself a few seconds later, but only after pushing a piece of paper into Xander’s hand. It was his own address and home number. The brunette looked a little puzzled so Jason quickly added, “There’s an apartment free on sixth if you’re interested. I put down the details, and um… took the liberty of telling the landlord you might be interested, hope you don’t mind… He’s an old friend, good guy…”
Xander’s gave the man a grateful smile and quick hug, “No problem… and thanks Jas… for everything… really… I’ll get onto this afternoon.”
As soon as the friend had been dismissed, Xander quickly heated enough blood for a full day’s feeding. He filled the glove and carried it, and the three other bags in a tub of hot water, over to the side table, before cradling his relaxed friend in his arms.
He was about to slice the full teat, but for the first time since his rescue, Spike grinned and finally fell into gameface with the smell of blood, puncturing the teat with his sharp incisor and sucked the dark liquid proudly, eyes sparkling as Xander smiled at him.
Xander took a risk, he gently moved Spike’s right hand to the top of the glove, trusting the vampire to hold it while he grabbed another warmed bag of blood, snipped it open with the nail scissors and opened his friend’s fist enough to pour the ‘next course’ into the feeding glove.
The process was repeated, and by the fourth bag Xander had begun to stroke the full, sleepy friend over the stomach that he could swear was a little distended with the feeding. The final few drops were pulled from the now spent glove seconds before the vampire spun and planted his fangs instinctively into Xander’s throat, not in anger, nor for feeding, but in gratitude.
Xander was utterly shocked, but after the first sting, he was amazed… the tight hold, the slight suction and the laving tongue gave him little choice but to pull into the embrace even tighter.
When the mouth pulled free, the words were instinctive, “Sire!!... Xan… need you… in me… now!”
The relief of finding his friend recovering, and the vampire’s automatic stroking of Xander’s hardness, left the human begging for more, but utterly confused.
Spike felt the drive for something and finally realized what it was. He was desperate for the attentions that his mistress was so willing to afford and was desperate for his new carer to provide. He rolled onto his stomach and lifted his backside, his own erection full with borrowed blood, then quietly began to request his servicing.
His lovely carer gasped. He had never… well except for that one time… and of course he had read and seen pictures, but now he was faced with a beautiful male form who was literally begging. “I um… Oh f#@$... Spike I don’t know if I… I mean I do want but… umm… you are… Ohh my!”
His charge held his cheeks open, waiting for his attentions. Spike was literally begging and kept up the mantra, “Please… please… please!!”
Finally Xander stood and retrieved the complimentary container of moisturizer from the bathroom, squeezing a generous amount on his erection and fingers, and gently began to enter another male body with two digits for only the second time, while carefully stimulating his friend’s erection as best he could.
Spike responded enthusiastically and Xander relaxed a little, but pulled his penetrating hand away only to hear the begging resume and felt a slim hand guide his own hardness to its mark. He nervously pushed his member at the opening then sank into the tight but surprisingly welcoming opening, as his partner pressed back on him. He hugged his friend with nervous arms that quickly shifted to a strong and loving grip. He heard the groan of enjoyment and allowed himself to begin to fully feel the pleasure.
It was extraordinary, and Spike was *so* responsive. Xander continued to pleasure Spike’s hardness as the smaller figure pressed back with Xander’s every thrust and groaned, and thanked, begged… before it was all too much and Xander felt the smaller figure come in his hand, the channel containing his shaft contracted hard. The human climaxed immediately filling his friend with warm seed.
They were lying with Xander spooning his smaller partner, both sated, when he pushed his wrist against the vampire’s mouth, he felt oddly satisfied as he felt the incisors carefully puncture his flesh.
The camera the cleaner had planted that morning gave Lilah what she needed. She still had no idea who the individual was due to the angle of shot, but voices were both male and their activity was unmistakable. And at least she had the damning evidence that would help persuade the construction worker and past ‘Scoobie’ to offer his services more willingly to Wolfram and Hart when the senior partners finally did decide on his role.
Her assistant was relieved to find that Ms Morgan was pleased, and removed herself before there was a change of heart and feathers might ensue.
The vampire woke at early to enjoy Xander’s attentions before he left for work then feel back to sleep, waking just as Xander arrived home at lunchtime. He finished two full pints of human blood from the teat before rolling to one side, stroking his rescuer’s face. Thankfully large sack of groceries obscured the view of Wolfram and Hart’s tiny camera now fixed to the top of the coffee maker.
Xander kissed his friend passionately and they lay quietly for a moment before Spike spoke, “Jason and Mark want to take us out.”
Xander was playing with Spike’s fingers and replied absently, “Yeah I know.”
“Not sure if you’ve noticed luv, but I’m um… still not walkin’.” Spike looked across at his lover worriedly.
“Well I guess we start on that… cause you are looking…”
“Less like a corpse?”
“I was going to say more filled out but hmmmm definitely… Do you want to try? I mean… now? Because, well we can just give it a try… You know – just give standing a go first?”
Spike saw the unadulterated hope and care in his friend’s face so took a liberty and leant up to kiss him, it was accepted. “Anythin’ for you pet… Yeah, let’s have at it.”
With that Xander held Spike close and sat them both up. He then swung Spike’s legs from the bed before squatting on the floor in front of him, placing a pale hand on each of his shoulders and holding it tight with his own. He then pulled the still surprisingly weak form forward, taking the vampire’s weight a little and easing him up until they were both standing.
Spike was breathing, and Xander could feel his whole form begin to shake, but he was smiling, apparently in amazement. “Oh??!!!!... Bloody … Xan this is …” Then the vampire’s eyes began to roll back, “Oh Xan, I’m gonna… fall!” Xander caught him around the waist before he could, pulling the figure to him in a tight hug and keeping him upright for a moment longer before maneuvering them both back onto the bed.
Spike was breathing again and faced Xander a little tearful, “Bloody hell… should be… better than this Pet, been too long on the mend… and I… I’m sorry.”
Xander simply kissed the pale forehead and whispered, “It’s OK… really! You did great… Let’s give it another go in a while… then I guess I’d better head back to work.”
Spike made it to standing twice more and on the third attempt also walked three steps with Xander’s arm firmly around his waist before collapsing exhausted against his keeper.
Gently placing the slight figure back under the covers, Xander heated one pack of blood and held the glove as Spike fed a little, then stroked the sleepy vampire until he fell into a dream free slumber. His charge remaining happily oblivious until the human protector returned that evening.
A nervous voice came through the handset, “Ms Morgan? Just reporting that we have a digital image of the second person in the Harris case… the brother, shall I…”
“Oh for Hell’s sake… Just put it in the files! I have other issues to address… Where are the records of our dealings with Mr Hainsley… the necromancer…?? They should have been on my desk this morning… You have two minutes to find them!!!”
Stacy dropped the phone, filed the digital images in the ‘Harris’ file, then scrambled to find the archives requested. She bruised her hip on the side of the desk for the third time that week as she raced for Ms Morgan’s door without her walking frame and her talons skidded, unable to get a purchase on the polished floor. She handed over the documents with tears in her eyes, before limping awkwardly back to her desk, slipping at the door and injuring her already sore hip yet again.
The pretty red head returned painfully to the chair that now sported marks on the base where her talons regularly gripped as she worked. She grabbed her designer jacket from the back of her walking frame, buried her face in it, and wept.
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