Title: Smell of Home Part 8

Email: tirel@pcnuthut.com

Homepage: https://www.angelfire.com/tv2/firebird_ascending/

Author: Velvet Crypt

Disclaimer: Joss is God. I own nothing.

Spoilers: Around season 4 or 5

Summary: The ending.

Dedication: Hmmm…how about for everyone who reviewed, in a panic, that I was going to kill Xander off or permanently maim him?

Xander knew the second that the ‘tingle’ found Spike. He felt it touch, latch on and begin seeping through Spike’s body. It was a strange feeling, to be in someone else’s body. He felt the vampire’s flesh surround him. He felt the burn of blood through Spike’s body, the rage that ebbed and flowed through every nuance of the vampire.

~I belong to you, only you. ~ He whispered with his mind, trailing mental fingers through Spike’s being. ~Please take me. Please accept me. ~ He felt Spike’s answer in the joy that burst through the vampire. That joy swirled around Xander’s perceptions and tentatively sought its way back through their connection. Xander ‘saw’ the joy, the acceptance barreling toward him through the link.

He wondered if Spike would be angry to know that he slightly resembled an overeager puppy at that point. Then the return request for claiming hit him full force back in the stomach and he could feel Spike sifting through him as he had done to the vampire. ~Yes! ~ He screamed in his mind. ~Oh, please yes. ~

He was momentarily called from his union with his mate as his body gave way under the Ghrestian’s fists. He couldn’t tell exactly what had happened, but he knew that it was bad. He felt his body shutting down. The link fluttered and he sadly thought that he may not live to see his mate again. He simply didn’t have the strength to last until he was rescued.

A warm pulse of strength shot down the bond, followed with a tender brush of power filled with affection and promise. He could almost hear Spike telling him to use the energy, to take it and hold on until Spike could reach him. He gratefully accepted the warmth and then receded back into his body and to the pounding fists of an infuriated demon.

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“Why?” B’Thaaug bellowed, swinging a clawed arm and knocking Xander to the side. “Why isn’t the claim working? I’ve said the ritual. I’ve exchanged the blood. He should belong to me!” He slapped Xander one more time in frustration, hating that bemused smile that still managed to dwell on the infuriating human’s face. “Why won’t you break, you little bastard?” he screamed. “Why won’t you be mine?”

“That’s probably because he belongs to me, mate,” Spike drawled. He attempted to right himself from in-between Buffy and K’eivan.

B’Thaaug snarled and stepped forward. “This is your doing? How?” he demanded. “How did you claim him? There is no mark!”

Buffy removed her hands from around Spike and allowed him to stand on his own. She could see the strength retuning to him, more every second. She twirled her sword in her hands and shrugged. “I see you don’t have a mark either,” she called calmly. “Let me take care of that.”

As one, Buffy and Spike moved forward. Buffy whirled through the air, her sword whistling like a ban sidhe. Spike went with the more demonic method and slipped into game face. Of course, he also wanted the Ghrestian’s blood so badly that he couldn’t remember Buffy had brought weapons, much less that she’d already bestowed one on him.

They worked in tandem, the slayer and the vampire. Buffy went for the legs, putting the huge demon into a merry little dance for which he had no time to defend against Spike’s full frontal assault on his throat. The vampire went after the soft spot under B’Thaaug’s chin. He paid no mind to the angry furrows the demon raked down his back.

While Spike and Buffy were occupied with B’Thaaug, the other demons moved into action. The Rwasundi floated into the room, glanced about and headed straight for its brethren. The three cloaked time warpers began to weave their hands and the air around them turned psychedelic with swirled colors and flashes of images. Soon, they were lost in a whirlpool of color.

The larger, angrier and battle primed demons took to the floor, cleaving and chopping anything that moved.

Giles picked up the battle-axe that Spike dropped and stepped into the fray, swinging wildly to clear the area in front of Willow and Tara. The girls held each other’s hands and chanted softly. K’eivan was in a quandary. He wanted to get in on the fight. It was what he had been brought for. However, though the humans were doing fine, they were the weakest and he felt a strange obligation to protect them.

And so, he hovered near the girls, picking off demons as they came too close. Out of the corner of his eye, he spotted the Shur-hod. The human shaped demon slunk along the perimeter of the room, avoiding the fighting and avoiding any eye contact. He caught K’eivan watching him and his eyes widened. Like a shot, he bolted from the room.

K’eivan’s jaw clenched. “You little conniving, traitorous bastard,” he snarled as he took off in pursuit. As he moved away from the humans, the Pockla and Mivka took his place. They were slightly less effective, but the clump of bodies working together caused enough hesitation in the enemy that they managed.

Nearby, B’Thaaug lashed out with a powerful leg, catching Buffy in the gut. She flew across the room, coming to rest against the legs of the Vahrall demon. He calmly bent down and hefted her up by the shirtfront and placed her on her feet. She nodded warily in thanks and turned back to the fight. Only to find there was nothing left to fight.

Spike watched Buffy sail over the floor and he lost the final inhibition. What did it matter if the Scoobies thought he was a monster? If they saw him as a cold-blooded killer? If Xander died, if any of them died, his stupid fears would mean nothing anyway. With a roar reverberating in his ears, Spike shoved his fist through the Ghrestian’s chest.

The larger demon halted, staring down at the vampire’s arm sticking out of his chest. He glanced back up into the face of a madman and had a moment’s pause. That moment cost him. Spike took the opportunity to slam his other fist into the demon’s chest. A gurgle of sound was the Ghrestian’s only indication of disagreement.

Baring his teeth in an enraged roar, Spike closed his hands and jerked. The last thing the Ghrestian saw before hitting the ground was William the Bloody holding the Ghrestian’s own spine up in victory. As B’Thaaug rolled to a stop, Spike stepped forward and raised his knee. The vampire slammed the boot of his beloved Doc into the demon’s skull, grinning in bloodlust at the sharp crack emitting from the shattered bone.

Spike turned to face the rest of the room. He was a vision of death; soaked in blood and other bits of demon flesh, wildly swinging the spine of his enemy over his head. Most of the demons that supported B’Thaaug broke off engagement with Spike’s people and bolted for the door. Those that couldn’t, or weren’t allowed to, came to a swift death under the other demon’s weapons, teeth and claws.

As the last of B’Thaaug’s supporters died, Spike flung the severed spine to the floor and raced to his mate’s side. Buffy eyed the room, looking for ‘their side’. She spotted the Drokken and the Vahrall immediately. Another moment and she caught sight of the Mohra demon dispatching something green and tentacled in the corner. The Rwasundi had disappeared. Since it took its brothers with it, Buffy didn’t really care.

“Um, hey,” she called. The eye of every demon in the room, save Spike, was on her. “Yeah, you all helped us today. I won’t forget that,” she said wearily. “So…just go. You’ve earned your get-out-of-jail-free card for this week. But if I catch you fucking around in Sunnydale again, all bets are off,” she warned. Upon nods, the Drokken, Mohra and Vahrall disappeared out the door.

As they left, K’eivan stumbled in. Bruised and bloody, he none-the-less had a huge smile on his face. “I found the traitor,” he grinned at Buffy. “And I kicked his ass.” Buffy couldn’t stop the giggle. Another second and she was laughing so hard she dropped to her knees, clutching her stomach.

Spike gently cut the ropes holding his mate and eased him to the ground. If it weren’t for the bond drawing him to this man, he might not have known it was even Xander. The gaping raw holes in his face were filled with blood seeping in from other cuts on his face. His chest was a mass of bruises and claw marks. His wrists were snapped and Spike wasn’t quite sure how Xander was still even awake.

The dark haired boy coughed and blood foamed up at the corner of his mouth. Spike bit back a cry of horror. “Hold still, love,” he whispered instead. “Just keep still. We’ll fix you up right as rain.”

Xander smiled, baring reddened teeth. “I’m sorry,” he wheezed. “I’m so sorry.”

Spike shushed him again, dropping kisses on the bloody mess of his boy’s forehead. “Nothing to be sorry about, love.”

Xander tried to shake his head, then gave up. “I ran right into the danger you were trying to keep me from,” he managed. “I fucked up again. I put you all in danger.”

Spike snorted. “Yeah, cause a Master Vampire can’t find enough danger on his own,” he tried for humor and knew that it failed miserably. “Love, you had every right to yell at me. I’m too overprotective.”

Xander let out a choked sob. “I don’t know about that,” he laughed painfully. “Looking at the mess I got myself into this time, I’m thinking that maybe I do need a keeper. Maybe I do need to be watched every second.”

Spike kissed his forehead, his cheeks; next to the yawning holes where Xander’s beautiful eyes had been. “I only watch you, love, because I can’t take my eyes off you,” he whispered.

Xander tried to move away and decided that it just wasn’t worth the pain. “Yeah, kind of a freak show now, huh?”

Spike stroked Xander’s cheek. “You are not a freak, Xander Harris. I think you’re beautiful. And I can’t stop looking at you because I love you. Looking at you makes me happy.”

Xander turned sightless eye sockets up to the vampire. “You love me?”

“Xander,” Spike said softly, “You’re my mate, my consort. You can feel how much I love you.”

Xander held motionless for a long moment, feeling the love wend its way down the link and hold his heart close. He smiled. “I love you too, Spike.”

The two men just held each other, knowing that any given moment could be their last together.

“Not to intrude, but I may be able to help you.” Spike looked up to see the Pockla demon standing over them.

“How?” the vampire asked.

“My race,” the demon bowed. “We are healers of a sort. We regenerate flesh. If you would allow me to try?”

Spike nodded almost frantically and the Pockla stepped forward. “Please hold your mate, William the Bloody. This will be nearly as painful as the original removal of his eyes.” Spike folded Xander into his embrace and held him. As Xander’s screams once again echoed through the room, the others turned in horror. “K’eivan!” snapped the Pockla. “Come, help William the Bloody hold his mate still. The pain is too much and if the boy moves, the regeneration will not be successful.”

K’eivan loped over to the trio and flung himself onto Xander’s legs, pinning the boy to the ground. Tara and Willow stood nearby, wrapped in each other’s arms, tears racing down their cheeks. Buffy eased closer to Giles but said to hell with subtlety as Xander’s voice cracked in agony. She wiggled her fingers into her Watcher’s hand and allowed him to draw her into the circle of his embrace.

Nearly five minutes later, the Pockla raised it’s hands and moved back. Hardly daring to hope, Spike looked down at his mate. Xander’s eyelids were no longer sunken in. As he watched, they fluttered open and Spike saw the once more whole, totally beautiful eyes of his mate. He reached down and touched Xander’s chest. The marks were gone; the crushed areas where ribs had shattered were whole again.

Spike unashamedly wept. Xander looked up at his mate in wonder. “Spike?” he breathed, carefully holding out a hand to touch the vampire’s cheek. He attempted to say more, but was cut off as Spike’s lips closed over his own. He remembered the feeling of Spike’s lips on his from days ago. He knew then that they worked magic on him, that they pulled his rational thought asunder.

This was better. The softness of Spike’s lips contrasted with the death grip he had on Xander’s arms, afraid if he let go, the boy might disappear again. Spike’s tongue flittered about Xander’s lower lip, begging for entrance. When granted, it mapped Xander’s mouth and Xander’s tongue welcomed it like a long lost friend. The bond swirled slowly in and out of them, first in Xander, then in Spike.

By the time Spike let him up for air, he could no longer tell which piece originated in whom. The warmth flooded his soul and echoed throughout Spike’s body back to him. Spike cupped Xander’s face reverently. “I love you, Xan,” he said breathlessly.

Xander nodded with a smile. “I love you too, Spike.”

Spike lifted his eyes to thank the Pockla for returning his boy to him, and couldn’t find him. He glance around in confusion and his eyes came to a rest on K’eivan. The Brachen shook his head. “He left. I’m going to head out myself. I’ll catch up with him and tell him thanks for you.”

Spike nodded and went back to staring into Xander’s eyes. K’eivan smiled indulgently and hugged Willow and Tara goodbye. He shook hands with Buffy and Giles and tossed them a jaunty wave as he exited.

“Spike?” Willow asked quietly.

Spike started and looked up at her. His face lit up and he held out an arm. She smiled, tears beginning again, and flung herself to the ground, embracing both men. “So, Xander,” she laughed through her tears. “You decide if you’re gay yet?”

Xander grinned up at the vampire holding him so gently. “Nah,” he drawled. “No gayness here. I think I’ve just got a bad case of Spike-lovin.”

The vampire grinned back. “And there’s no way in seven bloody hells you’re getting rid of it, luv.”