"I don't think I've ever spent so much time on vacation from a job before." Xander said as he came in, tossed his blazer over the back of the couch, and loosened his tie while continuing on into the bedroom to change his clothes. True to his thoughts, there had been no further discussion on the Mated bond they may or may not have formed. As much as Xander tried, he could find nothing different about himself since the kidnapping, except the feelings of inadequacy. He thought the days of getting kidnapped were behind him. Apparently, he was wrong. He pushed the thoughts aside, though, and shuffled back into the kitchen, his unbuttoned jeans scuffing along the carpet.
"You've got another one?" Spike asked him, noting that his limp from the broken leg was finally now completely gone. Xander sat down to the pasta primavera Spike served up for him and immediately began to devour it.
"They're giving us the rest of the week off, since it's St. Patrick's Day. It's not a good idea to try to run a site with half your crew of 'sick'," Xander made air-quotes around the word, "And the other half showing up hung over and bitching about it. Thanks for dinner. This is really good."
Spike gave a tiny incline of his head in acknowledgment of the thanks. "Might explain some of the architecture here though. Who's idea was it to build that monstrosity over on McKinley?"
"It's not a monstrosity, it's a..." Xander struggled to remember what the steel-glass-redwood-PVC building was supposed to be. "Post-post-modern Unitarian Church."
"It's horrible. And in places, purple."
"I like it."
"You would. What happened to brick? Lines and corners and right angels?"
"Next you'll be telling me I should do my blueprint measurements in cubits."
"Oi! I'm Victorian, not biblical. You don't even know what a cubit is."
"I'd say." Xander pointed first to his elbow, then his extended middle finger, proving that yes, he did know what a cubit was, and exactly what Spike could do with his assumptions otherwise. "Wanna go out?"
"Hunting?"
"Maybe. I thought we could stick with everyone else, though, and engage in some stereotypical hootenannies."
Spike stared at him, blankly.
"It's St. Patrick's Day."
"I'm not touching any snakes."
Xander looked confused, then waved it off. "Come on. First, we go out, and find an Irish bar. Pub? Pub. Then, you sing 'Danny Boy' and make all the retired cops cry."
"Isn't that what happens when you try to sing?"
"No, when I try to sing they arrest me for it. In fact, that's the real reason I can't go back to Indiana."
"You've never been to Indiana."
"And I never can, now. So, then, after we're sufficiently plastered-"
"Pissed." Spike seconded their favorite game. Well, third or fourth favorite.
"Faced."
"Ripped"
"Uh-huh, drunk, we go beat something up. That'll cover the Irish incorrectness. Then we come back here and you cook while I redecorate-"
"That's the gay angle?"
Xander nodded. "And finally, I can fuck you until you scream."
"What bigotry are we emulating there?"
"No one's being set on fire, Spike."
"That's immolation, you moron."
"Oh. Right. I knew that. And, uh, that's your average horny Xander stereotype. All our bases are covered."
"You forgot vampire." Spike switched gears as quickly as he usually did, pushed Xander's plate aside and hauled him on top of the table, licking suggestively at Xander's neck while his boy automatically fumbled with his belt and buttons.
"We'll have to revise the sex then. Right there, yes." Xander gasped as Spike pulled both of their jeans off, back on top of him before Xander could blink. "I fuck you until you scream, while you bite me." Xander removed their shirts, and lay back on the table as Spike continued teasing his balls with his left hand.
"Lots of biting." Spike scraped slightly elongated fangs over Xander's nipple.
"Yes."
"Can we change the order of your plans?"
"Uh-huh." Too far gone for words, now, Xander managed to keep kissing him while Spike pulled gently off the table to the floor. He fisted Spike's erection, hard and fast, squeezing and pumping when Spike began to gasp as well. Xander watched as Spike turned his body and grabbed the olive oil from its place by the stove behind him. Spike drizzled it across Xander's belly and balls, smearing in over the warm flesh beneath him before reaching back and preparing himself. He slicked his fingers and slowly pushed one inside himself, breaching the virgin-tight muscle easily, finding himself ready enough for two in only a few thrusts. When three glided easily in and out, Xander pulled Spike's hand back, smiling at Spike's moan, and replaced them with his dripping cock.
"You ready?"
Spike nodded and pushed down against Xander as the human pressed his way inside. When he was filled completely, Spike stilled, wondering again at the feel of Xander inside him, stretching him, so hot, so perfect.
"So tight, Spike. Feels so good when I'm in you." Xander watched Spike's face as he slowly started to move, rotating his hips slightly until he found the spot and Spike bit his lip to muffle his scream.
"You're supposed to scream, Spike." Xander gasped as Spike pulled nearly all the way off before slamming back down, and Spike did scream. They found a rhythm, Spike riding him, angling himself so he pounded Xander's cock against his prostate with each thrust. Too soon, the grasping velvety feel of Spike's body around his cock, and the sound of the vampire chanting his name, the look of intense concentration giving way to building pleasure, and Xander was coming, spilling his hot seed into Spike's body.
The feel of the rush of warmth inside him had Spike coming as well, shooting against his stomach. He reached for Xander, bringing him forward as he leaned in, sinking his teeth in Xander's pectoral, right above his heart.
***
They did, in fact find a good old Irish pub, right by the police station, coincidentally enough. They drank a fair amount of green beer, but not so much that their fighting would be impaired, and certainly not too much that an encore of the evening's previous events was out of the question. Between Xander and the drunken officers, Spike was coerced into singing a beautiful rendition of "Danny Boy', leaving several of the pub's patrons complaining of the spring's high pollen count and wiping their eyes in a manly fashion.
They went on a quick patrol around town, and Spike pounded on a few vampires while Xander watched, just drunk enough to be very vocal in his apparently typical horniness.
"Did I ever tell you how fucking hot you are, Spike?" Xander asked loudly as Spike suddenly staked a fledge, dusting the unsuspecting vamp.
"Often." Spike managed before the other one decided that discretion wasn't the better part of valor, and attacked anyway.
"Have I told you how bad I want to fuck you?" Xander giggled as the fledge turned stunned eyes on him before taking Spike's right hook to his jaw.
"Yes."
Xander waited until Spike dusted the second fledge, just in case. "Have I asked if you want to fuck me?"
Spike stared at Xander for a long, long time. "You want me..."
"To fuck me," Xander confirmed.
Part Fifty-Seven Four-Leaf Clovers
"Is that a no?"
Spike was still staring at Xander, unblinkingly. "No. Definitely a yes. I just. Didn't expect that."
"I'm full of surprises." Especially since he hadn't even known those words were right there in his brain, just waiting to come out.
"That you are." Spike still hadn't blinked.
Another few moments passed and Xander prompted, "So?"
Eyelids closed before popping open again on surprise-widened eyes. "Here?"
"I was thinking at home, in our nice warm bed, where the lube is." Xander paused in his sarcasm as Spike pulled a well-used tube out of his duster pocket and held it toward Xander.
"Well, now, this does change things a bit, doesn't it?" Xander gave Spike a look that could only be described as a leer.
Spike snatched the tube back and shook his head. "No. Home, bed. You deserve more than..." Spike looked around at the tombstones surrounding them. "This."
Xander saw the flash of pain in his eyes before it could be shoved back down. "So, take me home then."
***
Spike managed not to break into a run on the way home, but by the time they'd reached the apartment, he was in a right frenzy. He'd given this situation very little thought, never allowing himself to play the scene out fully in his head. He had been honest with Xander when he told him that he really did prefer bottom. He liked being fucked, pure and simple. And he really didn't have any indication that Xander would want to change things. The boy seemed perfectly content with the way things were, was a natural top, as long as that was how Spike wanted it. And it was.
Until those words hit him tonight in the cemetery.
'Have I asked if you want to fuck me?' Asked with so much longing Spike really had thought they'd go at it over a gravestone. There was no way he'd do that to Xander, though. No bloody way. The boy had done too much, given him too much for him to spend the next forty years thinking sex had to hurt, as Spike had.
"Spike?"
The boy's voice pulled him from his reverie and he realized he'd been growling sub vocally.
"You're growling."
"Shouldn't have heard that, Pet."
"Because you didn't want me to, or I shouldn't have been able to?"
"Yes."
"Huh." Xander, true to his slightly alcohol-induced one track mind, set that revelation aside and focused on the task at hand. He was getting good at that. He'd asked Spike to fuck him, and Spike responded with hesitation and growling. "We don't have to do this. You don't have to. I just thought it might be-"
"No. I want. I want you." Spike was at his side in an instant, sucking at his neck and biting with gentle pressure, hands doing everything Xander loved.
"Sure?" Xander didn't know quite who he was asking.
Spike nipped a bit harder in lieu of response. They walked, slowly, pressed together the whole time, into the bedroom and Spike stopped when the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed. Xander relinquished his hold on the vampire only long enough for them to remove their clothing. Finally, Spike stood naked in front of an equally nude Xander. And then they were together again, hands roaming, lips parting, panting and moaning and the slick sounds of skin on skin peppering the air.
Spike realized that he would have to tell Xander what to do, otherwise this wouldn't go the way Xander wanted it. "Lay down, Xander."
Xander lay down on his back on the bed, lust darkened eyes sparkling in the light from the night light in the corner, mimicking candlelight minus the flickering.
"Easier the other way, luv."
"No. Can't, Spike. Have to see you. Want to look at you when you're in me." He tried to keep the desperation out of his voice, and Spike seemed to understand.
Spike nodded, and lay down next to Xander as he reached under the pillow for the lube. He continued kissing his boy, using the slightest bit of the lube on his fingers as he played with Xander's nipples, the slick pinching causing the brunet to gasp and moan. Spike moved his mouth lower, following his fingers with his mouth, scraping a fang over the sensitized nipples.
"Please, Spike, bite." Xander's broken voice urged him, but Spike stopped himself from automatically complying. He was in control here, as long as Xander let him, and he was going to use that to his advantage. He didn't mind playing at top every once in a while, as long as it was just playing. He grinned wickedly, and instead of piercing Xander's flesh outright, he dragged the tip of one fang just over the skin of Xander's chest, drawing a line of beaded blood. He used his tongue, pointed at times to probe the wound, other times flat to lap at the sluggishly rising blood. Every touch caused Xander to writhe underneath him, driving their cocks together, Spike thrusting into Xander slowly, drawing out the pleasure.
"God, Spike, bite. Now!" Xander's squirming on the bed stopped as he issued his command, Master persona taking over for just a moment. Spike gave in to the steely voice, biting down hard where the scratch ended, just over Xander's heart. Play time over, it was time to move on to the main event.
"So perfect." Must have been Xander's words, as Spike's lips never left their seal on Spike's skin, but they echoed his feeling exactly.
Spike stopped drinking and very carefully stroked across Xander's entrance, not yet in, but more pressure with each pass. Xander stilled at the still unfamiliar sensation, unsure as to what Spike was going to do next. Spike worked one slick finger in , just past the tight ring and then stilled.
Spike didn't miss the sudden tensing from Xander, beyond what he expected. Then Xander opened himself to the vampire's finger, but Spike remained too slow, too gentle. Xander had wanted this, when he made the suggestion. Theoretically. He wanted the closeness, he wanted to make Spike feel the way he did when the vampire let him in. But once reality set in, he remembered.
He knew how much it hurt. Spike always told him it felt good, but he was a vampire. Vampires like pain; witness the dungeon down the hall. Now, faced with Spike actually breaching him, readying him, panic began. He had to get this over with. Now.
Using the only argument Spike couldn't refuse, he swallowed, then spoke, his voice firm. "You're not gonna hurt me, Spike. Please-"
"No. I'm not gonna hurt you." Spike stopped all movement, looking Xander directly in the eyes. He sensed the nervousness, of course, that was to be expected. "Got time, Pet."
"Please, Spike. Need you. Now, please." This time, there was no hint of a command, just desperation. Spike heard it as wanton begging, and worked two fingers inside the boy and finally heard the hiss he'd been expecting as Xander clinched down around him.
"Relax, Xander. Not gonna hurt you. Still want this?" Xander nodded, clenched his eyes, forcing all the tension from the rest of his body into his face. He relaxed and Spike felt the tight muscles loosen slightly as he continued scissoring his fingers. Soon, despite his reservations, Xander was gasping in anything but pain. He began thrusting back to meet him. There was pain, a little, but it was nothing like what he'd been expecting.
"Feels good, yeah?"
Xander could only nod in agreement.
Spike pulled his hand away, smiling at the quick litany of 'no's this prompted from Xander.
"No, no, no, don't stop, Spike."
"Not stopping, luv, not stopping." He prepared himself, and again, forced himself to calm down. This was going to be good, but not if it was over before it began. Just the sight of his boy laid out beneath him, the light scent of his sweat and arousal in the air, disheveled and debauched, had Spike conjugating Latin verbs in his head.
"Gonna hurt, Xander. Can't be helped. Just relax, tell me if you want to stop, yeah?" To read: lego, legis, legit... God, Xander, please don't tell me to stop.
"Please, Spike." Xander opened his eyes to look at Spike, his features relaxing. The love and desire shining out of them caused Spike to shiver in anticipation. Xander found himself actually wanting this.
Spike took a deep, unnecessary breath. He would finally get to feel him, surrounding him, hot and tight and Spike pressed forward, feeling his boy stretch to accommodate him. Slowly, so slowly he pressed in, stilling as Xander's face tightened and moving again once he relaxed. Then he was home, buried deep inside his lover. All language, English, Latin, Fyarl, all of it left him at the tight, hot feeling surrounding him, and he bit his lip, determined to remain absolutely motionless until Xander was ready.
Finally, Xander opened his eyes, amazed at the lack of real pain. He knew now. This was why Spike loved this, the fullness, the closeness, and he gave the slightest wicked squeeze. Spike began thrusting into him, gently at first, barely a movement, and then faster, building to a pace they were both going to regret in the morning but unable to help himself. He carefully adjusted the angle, and froze as Xander gasped and threw his head back, exposing his throat to his lover.
Too soon, Spike felt the familiar tightening in his own body, and between Xander's semi-coherent moaning and the feeling of hot, hot, tight around him, and Spike howled his release, flooding Xander's insides with cool come. He reached between them, his cool hand circling Xander's blood-hot cock, and one, two, three thrusts and hot come on his hand, over Xander's stomach and chest, and his boy was quiet, except the harsh panting. He was so dazed, he didn't notice Spike pull away and leave his side for a moment.
A few moments later, Xander opened his eyes. "Spike?"
Right here, luv." Spike walked back into the bedroom carrying a warm cloth to use to clean them. He chuckled to himself. To clean: purgo, purgimus, purgas...
"That was amazing, Spike. I didn't expect it to be like that, but oh, god, that was..."
"That it was." Once they were cleaned up, Spike threw the cloth across the room, and two pairs of eyes watched as it hit the wall about a foot to the left of the door and flopped on the floor.
"For someone who fucks that well, you sure throw like a girl."
Spike let the comment pass, and lay down with his boy, letting the smell of them together and the sound of Xander's slowing breaths lull him to sleep.
Part Fifty-Eight Dark Alleys
It was a few weeks later when Xander left the movie house, still munching on chocolate covered somethings, and Spike still convinced that they could be chocolate covered bugs and Xander would eat them. Of course, he certainly never complained when that chocolate covered something was him, so he let it go without comment.
"So, we got my sugar fix, watched half a movie, and traumatized anyone who happened to glance up into the balcony," Xander began.
"Anyone who visits a theater with a balcony knows what they're getting into. Been that way since before they had talkies."
"As I'm sure you took full advantage of. Still, Spike."
The vampire watched as Xander blushed deeply. "You've never had privacy issues before, as I recall."
Xander stopped, trying desperately to find a rebuttal to the argument and failing miserably. The whole 'she'd gone 1100 years without it and then became trapped with all those pent-up teenage hormones, and hello? I'm a guy' argument was just something he so did not want to get into. Discussing his former lovers would automatically lead to discussing Spike's former lovers, however many there were, and no matter what the vampire told him, he knew there was no way he could ever hope to compete with any of them. Not even on their worst day. And then he'd still have to convince Spike, yet again, that killing Faith was not an option.
Unfortunately, Spike took his silence as further embarrassment and decided to skip straight to humiliation. "Oh, look at you! You can tie me down and spank me until I scream, not an easy task I might add, but a little mutual hand job in public and suddenly you've got hang-ups." He started loudly, but finished on a sigh, "Humans."
Surprised he had yet to burst into flames from blushing so hard, Xander flashed an apologetic grin towards the small family ushering their younger children away from the scary men, and tried to steer the conversation elsewhere. "And that wasn't at all inappropriate, Spike. While we're on this side of town," Xander waved in the general direction of the after-hours butcher shop, whose business had doubled due to Spike's mandate that there be no hunting in his territory. Why the vampires didn't leave, neither of them could figure out. "You want something to eat?"
"Wouldn't mind." Spike dragged Xander into the nearest alley, stopping just beyond the arc of light that slipped in from the street. He dropped to his knees, and slipped one hand under Xander's tee shirt while the other freed his hard cock. Three cheers for vamp dexterity!
Just before Xander could stop worrying about the sex in public, again, and start begging for Spike to quit teasing, the vampire stiffened. He pulled back and placed his hand over Xander's mouth before turning around. "Button up, Pet. And fix your pants." Spike turned and pressed his back into Xander, whose back was pressed into the rough brick wall behind him. It wouldn't have been entirely uncomfortable if it hadn't been for the raging hard-on Spike had left him with, and the fact that fangy death was once again coming for him. And not in the fun, bad pun kind of way.
Three vampires emerged from the shadows, two relatively short flanking a larger one in the middle, all in full game face. "Looky what we have here," the larger one said, obviously trying way too hard at the witty banter. "It's late. Time for good little boys to be in bed."
"Dunno," chimed in the short one on the left. "Don't look like they need a bed." He sounded like all the toadies in bad gangster movies, and Xander had to stifle a giggle. They were so gonna get it.
"Too bad. Should have waited." The larger one again. "Patience is a virtue."
Xander snorted. "Patience is a virtue? Oh, Spike, make it stop."
Spike took a step forward, but his hand stayed on Xander. "Would you just shut your gob? We were busy here. I was going to just kill you, but you upset my Pet. Think I'll have some fun." He turned his head slightly to catch Xander's gaze. "You mind, Pet?"
To anyone else, the last statement may have just sounded like part of Spike's prattle, but Xander recognized it as the plea for permission that it was. Xander leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "We'll talk about this later." He licked along Spike's earlobe, and the vampire shuddered.
By unspoken agreement, Spike took the large one and one of the smaller vamps, and Xander took on of the remaining one. While Spike dodged and punched, Xander did the same, his technique vastly improved with Spike's training and the occasional dose of his blood. Both of them turned away from the other, pulling their enemies even further apart, and keeping their backs to each other to prevent an ambush from behind. It was a system they found worked best for their style. When Xander had his adversary off balance, he lunged, readying to drive the stake home. The stake drove through thin air, though, as the vampire changed tactics. No longer attacking, he dodged and weaved, finally closing in and wrapping a fist in Xander's hair.
The supernaturally quick tug on his head had Xander off balance, his neck tilted back at an awkward angle. Spike was still busy fighting off his attackers, and he vampire leaned in for the kill. Xander closed his eyes, waiting for the moment when the fangs pierced his neck. As the twin flares of pain pricked his neck, he calmly slid his arm around the vampire's back. The vampire, knowing that after the bite many victims became unbearably aroused, let the action happen without pause. After the first swallow of Xander's blood, though, the vampire paused, tasting the strangeness for a minute. Then he pulled back, recognizing the taste as one he'd never had before, but unmistakable anyway.
"You're his..." Before he could finish his sentence, Xander lunged forward, driving the stake deep into his chest from behind, wincing when vampire dust floated down his throat, burning his lungs. The other two stopped in their losing attack against Spike at the sound of their compatriot's final death. They exchanged a look, then reached out, each yanking a handful of hair out of Spike's head. Spike yelped and the other vamps turned back the way they came, running even faster than they'd run from the slayer that almost caught them back in the Thirties.
Spike started to chase after them, not one to let an attack against him and his Mate go unpunished when the smell of Xander's blood hit him. He turned to find Xander ranting in the middle of the alley way, still healthily waving the stake around wildly, not even bleeding anymore.
"What the hell was that all about? Late April Fool's Day... thing?" Xander asked, once his neck stopped throbbing. Irrationally, which could be called typically, Xander yelled down the empty alley, "Hey! You're late!"
"Dunno, Pet." Spike gestured for Xander to put the lethally pointy wood down. Xander noticed he still had the stake, and dropped it by his side. Spike stepped forward and ran his hands all over Xander, ensuring that his boy was fine, just a few hairs out of place, the wound on his neck already mostly healed over. He'd check with some contacts, find out about the trio, and make them pay for touching his Xander. And his hair. Later.
"Spike? Did you get bit, too?" Xander touched Spike's neck gently, and Spike flinched when his fingers landed above his jugular.
"No. Just third grade girled."
"What?"
"Nothing. What's this about me getting bit?"
"You've got a mark, right here." Xander spread his fingers around the two pink marks, not touching them, but inspecting them.
"Right, yours." Spike explained, again checking the back of Xander's head for bumps.
"No. Mine's over there." Xander touched the right side of Spike's neck, a little lower than where the fingers of his other hand still rested. "This one," he swallowed as realization hit him. "This one is right where mine is. Only on you."
Xander met Spike's eyes, searching for an explanation and finding none. Spike shrugged. "Come on, let's get you home. Bloody demon magnet."
"Yeah, let's go. Got any books or anything we should look at?" Xander wrapped an arm around Spike's shrugging shoulders and led them home, wondering if life was this odd everywhere, or if it was just him.
Part Fifty-Nine Answers
"So. Why'd you ask if I minded?" Xander asked as Spike hung up his coat on the custom made, specially padded coat rack, designed and built by Xander specifically with the decades-old duster in mind, and went on into the apartment.
"What?"
"You asked would I mind if you killed those vamps. Why?"
"Oh." Spike looked around sheepishly for a moment, then answered quietly, "Needed your permission."
"I got that part. Why?"
Spike sighed again. "You know why. I was doing you, and I had to stop. Needed to make sure it was okay."
"For future reference, Spike, it is always okay to interrupt sex for life saveage. Does... does it bother you? That you feel like you have to ask?"
"No." Spike answered too quickly.
"Spike. I want to know." Xander flopped down onto the sofa, watching as a few dust motes glinted in the light from the side table. This was definately a flop-worthy conversation, with the mood Spike was in all of the sudden.
"No, it does not bother me." Spike answered petulantly, lighting yet another cigarette. He continued to stand, facing away from Xander.
"What then?"
"Nothing."
"If you're just going to act childish-"
"Oh, you're one to talk."
Xander glared at him. "See?"
"Shut up, Xander.There's nothing to talk about. Just piss off, would you?"
Hurt flared in Xander's eyes, and had Spike been looking at him, he would have realized what a still-raw wound he'd just liberally salted. As it was, however, Xander just stood up slowly before storming into the bedroom. Alone. It was bad enough that he had been dumb enough to get kidnapped, then attacked, same old uselessness and stupidity following him from Sunnydale no matter how many times he thought he'd escaped it and become something, someone else. It was enough that he knew he'd never escape it, but now Spike recognized him for what he was. Soon, even if he still had the needs he had, Xander's feeble attempts to provide for him wouldn't be enough. Spike wouldn't be able to really submit and get out of their sessions what he needed if he didn't honestly think Xander had any real power. And then what?
He tried to get comfortable in the too-large, too-empty bed. Instead he tossed and turned, wondering what Spike was doing in the other room so quietly. He really just wanted the vampire to come in and cuddle with him and tell him what was wrong and give him that look that said he could make it all better. He wanted to make it better. That's what a boyfriend did. That's what a Master did. He hadn't known at the beginning how he would take to the domination thing; all he had known was that it was what Spike needed and he loved Spike. So he provided it. Happily. For the first time, he was able to consider things from the opposite side. Maybe that's what made him sort of good at it, that he knew domination from both sides. Whatever the reasoning, he liked it, needed it now just as much as Spike needed to submit. But now, maybe that's what changed. He'd been so temperamental lately. Maybe Xander wasn't giving him what he needed. Maybe he'd dealt with his issues and didn't want to be dominated anymore.
Spike often initiated things between the two of them now, but he always stopped almost before he started, asking for permission through actions and words. Maybe he was tired of reigning in his impulsive nature. Was it not what he needed anymore? And since Xander'd let Spike make love to him, maybe... It always had been too good to be true, that Spike would want to be with him. Was it about to come crashing down around him, like it always did?
***
Spike stared at the wall blankly. What the bloody hell was wrong with him, dragging Xander into an alley like that? Was he trying actively to get the boy killed? And vamps didn't just grab hair and run away. Unless the vamp was Harmony. But these vamps weren't local; they had the feel of mercenaries, sent on a mission. But to pull hair? And why had he shown marks when it was Xander that had been bitten? Maybe it was time to do some research into this mating thing. The wait and see approach wasn't going to cut it anymore if these questions kept popping up. Then, to top it all off, he'd gone and made the boy mad, and he couldn't even tell him why.
He could barely suss out the reasons for himself. He didn't want to tell Xander that it had suddenly become so much harder to repress the needs of his demon. If he scared off his boy, if he found out that Spike wasn't in control anymore... There was something splitting him apart, and it all seemed to come back to the fact that Xander was his Master but not his Sire and he was human and loved him and was going to die at some point, Mated bond or otherwise, and it was all wrong and backward and some things couldn't be ignored by not knowing the answers or by disregarding the rules.
So much was wrong with this relationship. So much was right, but even though he didn't want to admit it, so, so much was wrong. And there was nothing he could do to fix it short of turning his lover, but then that would take him away. Whatever was left would have the undeniable need to submit to his Sire and all new problems would arise from the solution. If it could be called a solution. That wasn't even the real problem, just a part of it. But he didn't want to think about it, because thinking about it would make it real. And Xander didn't seem all that inclined to ask, either. Both of them just tip-toed around the situation, what had happened to them, what was yet to come.
Spike shook off his mental babble and hoped to abandon his frustration in sleep. He silently entered the bedroom, stripped down and left his clothes where they fell. He crawled into bed next to Xander, but didn't touch him. They didn't fight often, and he was unsure of what to do if Xander didn't put an end to it first. He hated that he forced Xander to make the first move, every time, but he couldn't, wouldn't risk getting it wrong.
"Coming over here, or is that too much to ask?" Xander didn't move from his spot, curled around himself on their big bed, facing away from Spike. He may have spoken first, but Spike was going to have to show him what he wanted. Xander didn't want to let him see that he didn't know what to do.
"Never too much to ask, Xander. Don't you know I always want..." He trailed off, shook his head, because Xander obviously didn't know, not if he had to ask. There was really no point in talking anymore that night. Maybe the next day, after work and maybe a nice dinner out, something that would appeal to their romantic sides, maybe then they could talk about it. Maybe they could give Red a call, put her Watcher contacts into play, figure out what was happening to them.
Xander turned onto his side and let Spike slide in close to him, giving up all pretense of not wanting to touch him. All he could do now was hold on, try to fix things and hope that Spike would let him.
"Are you mad at me? For getting bit?" Xander asked quietly.
"No." Spike asked, just as quietly. He leaned back, to get a better look at Xander, but not out of reach. "Did you like it?"
"What?"
"The bite, did you like it?"
"No, it hurt. A lot." Xander looked at Spike, confusion clouding his features.
"You say you like it when I bite." Was he lying?
"I do. You're not trying to hurt me. When you do it, it's like, it's great. That was, I didn't want it, and I didn't ask for it, and he didn't care, Spike. You're not like that, your bite's not like that. You told me, remember, you told me it wasn't something done for food, and I can tell the difference."
Spike settled back down into Xander's side, feeling Xander's breath ruffle his hair. "Love you, Spike."
"Don't get hurt again, Xander. Just don't."
Part Sixty Plans
The fire burned high in its pit, flames licking at the rough ceiling of the cave. The huge cavern was old, forged by nature as well as other, more mystical forces, and it truly hummed with energy. The rock walls, dark and damp, were painted with unrecognizable glyphs and symbols, decorated with designs in a language foreign to this plane. The decorations were drawn in what was obviously blood, but the color was wrong, far too dark to be human, even dried. The scent of death, stagnation, and power hung heavily in the overheated air, closing in on the cave's occupants, making each grateful that he didn't need to breathe in this form. Unlike in the wretched guise they were forced to don when hunting, their more formal ceremonial bodies took in air through the skin, leaving them able to concentrate more on matters at hand.
The ritual fire had been studiously prepared by only the finest acolytes, the search for just the right fuel taking far longer than the preparation of the remaining ingredients for the spell. They had to travel to several different dimensions to gather the correct kindling, and their species didn't handle portal travel well. They'd lost two members of the clan to the portals. Add those deaths to the three emissaries the Weak One killed, and their numbers had been taken from the customary number of thirteen down to eight, plus the High Priest.
Several of the robed figures encircled the pit, all but the two guards at the mouth of the cave. All stood carefully, warily keeping their distance from the mystical flame. The heat stayed trapped inside the ritual robes uncomfortably, making the cuts on their arms itch from where they had each contributed to the blood offering. Some of the King's more ambitious servants had cut too deeply, and were now at the bottom of the pit, fulfilling the ritual's call for an unknowing sacrifice. It was a sign of how badly wronged their King had been, when so many had been willing to step forward and offer their own lives in exchange for his revenge.
The clan leader stood inside the small circle of followers, too near the pyre for his liking, with flames licking at the hem of his robe. He knew that the fire presented no danger to him and he would remain untouched by the heat that rolled forth throughout the spell, even from his position on the edge of the flames. He had to wait far too long for the spell's components to come together, too much had gone wrong, but now it was time. The spell would be preformed tonight, and he would cause suffering the likes of which had been caused to him and his King. He began leading the others in the ancient ritual of vengeance.
The ingredients for the spell itself had been remarkably easy to gather; the High Priest had expected to need to launch more than the one attack, or to maybe need to track the vampire across the continent for a while, especially after the previous attempt at capture had failed so miserably. It seemed to many of the clan that the threat to their King should have been dealt with immediately, sent to his final death without ceremony. The younger members of the clan were often rash and impetuous. They had also been disposed of quickly, sent to the dungeon and tormented, feeding their King with their very insecurities. They had rejoined the group only yesterday, and as soon as the clan's numbers were replenished, they would once again be relegated to the dungeon. As this was taken into consideration, anyone else who thought the difficult ritual was probably not warranted remained silent. The clan took vengeance seriously. Their leader, more than seriously.
The High Priest had studied all the relevant documents, and as far as he knew, he had the only extant copy of this particular prophesy. Only during the previous spring could his clan have lowered the walls between worlds, making inter-dimensional travel possible without the aid of portals, and enabling his clan to become stronger. The King, who should have been feasting off the limitless supply of guilt and misery provided to him by the Weak One, would have ascended to absolute immortality. As long as the Weak One survived, so would he. And he would be the most powerful creature in this or any other dimension.
The Weak One had destroyed these preparations that had been in the works for centuries. There was another, not part of the original prophesy, who surprised the King and his minions. This second souled vampire had been far too well protected, having amassed a group of minions of all sorts, including a Watcher and a powerful witch who occasionally came to call. She often brought along a Slayer and assorted others, so he was of no use to the clan anyway. The other was far more conveniently located, was hardly protected at all, only having a human to cling to. this explained why he was the one behind the prophesy, and not the elder of the two. The existence of two souled vampires, from the same house, no less, had been a stunning revelation, prompting the High Priest to reanalyze all of his works, seek out new translations of the ancient scrolls, and push the ceremony off until the very last moment. But the emissaries had been killed by this one. He was not taken captive, and now there would be no permanent opening of the portals between worlds. There would be no ascension, and the clans numbers were dwindling rapidly.
The clan leader tried to handle things discreetly at first, not wanting the King to find out about his part in the timing. He turned first to another vampire in debt to the clan. Who better to capture their prey than one of his own kind? At that point, there would have been barely enough time to salvage the ritual. If the plan had been successful, no one would need to know about his failure. But again, the Weak One had proved to be incredibly resourceful and unbelievably lucky. He'd killed his companion's captors and once more escaped punishment from the clan.
The High Priest tried to gather his focus, not allowing his rage to color the delicate spell. If this last chance didn't work, he'd most likely end up in the dungeon himself, victim to a less complicated but similar spell. One that would take his greatest insecurity and force it into reality, his misery pouring forth and feeding the telepathic demons he served until he was driven mad and then finally died under the strain of the spell. That was the key to using the vampire, as an immortal, the spell couldn't kill him. He was a limitless supply of nourishment for the King.
Arms raised, the High Priest chanted alone now as the flames grew and turned from orange- red- yellow to green- blue- black. The three captives were prodded forth by the newest acolytes to be called. They moved hesitantly forward, too scared to fight and otherwise subdued by spells. The chanting abruptly stopped, signaling their cue, and as the three vampires threw their bundles into the fire, one of herbs, one of dark hair, and one of blond, the acolytes moved into place and beheaded them with the ceremonial daggers. The flames sizzled and sparked on their ashes, flames growing and fading with the power as each ingredient was activated, combined, and took effect, drawing the power from the energy in the fire and in the Priest. The chanting began again as the smell of herbs and singed hair hit his nostrils. As the leader threw back his head, magics radiating from him and out the mouth of the cave, his hood fell back, revealing empty black eyes in a shimmering, changing face.
