Non-Sequitopia

by
Misanthrope7842

         
         
         








Part Seventy-One   Homecoming

When Xander woke, Spike's piercing blue gaze pinned him to the bed, even though he had yet to open his eyes. He didn't need to see him, he could feel that Look from across the state; this was just a few feet away. Xander felt a twinge of guilt as he first remembered other times Spike sat by his bedside until he woke, then flashed to the memories of the past couple days. Just like all the other times he'd been possessed, and isn't that a fun thing to have multiple memories of, he remembered everything. But this time, he didn't think he'd be able to pretend he didn't. He owed Spike more than that. He knew how it felt to be brushed off, a mistake, with nothing more than a, 'sorry, I wasn't feeling myself'.

He opened his eyes, wincing at the sting of his swollen face, wondered how that happened, and gazed at Spike blearily. Spike's face was also bruised. In the same places Xander was sore. Ah.

"Do I look as bad as you?"

Spike nodded. "Feel better?" He broke the silence, but so quietly that Xander couldn't tell if he was upset or not. It was a stupid thing to wonder, because of course he was upset. Who wouldn't be, after the way he'd been treated?

"Yes. I think... Was there a spell?"

Another nod. "Payback. Seems when I didn't let those demons eat me a while back, I ruined their plans to take over the world. Pity."

"So they made me evil?"

Spike couldn't help but chuckle. "You weren't evil, Pet. You were just... not completely yourself."

"Oh."

"Never said it made sense."

"Guess not." Xander fidgeted and Spike waited for him to continue. "Hate me?"

Spike blinked. "No. Hate your hair." He drawled.

"It stunk. At least, I thought it did. Had to get rid of it. Sorry. But you don't hate me? After what I did to you?"

"You didn't do anything wrong. Nothing the demon didn't like, even."

"But you... What about you?"

"I am the demon."

"You're more than your demon."

Spike dropped his gaze, not willing to let Xander see the true meaning behind his next words. "Not that much."

"So you enjoyed me being a complete asshole?"

"No. I enjoyed you wanting me." Spike explained, growing agitated. Why couldn't Xander just see that it was over and time to move on? He didn't want to talk about this, give Xander a chance to reconsider and restructure their relationship, make it all equal and take away the one thing that let him know who he was, what he was.

"I always want you."

"You took me. You scented me."

"I thought I already did that." Xander was visibly confused.

"You did it the way humans do it. Once. This time was more the way animals do it. The way demons do it." Spike sounded very frustrated, moved the same way. He stood, searched for a cigarette, couldn't find one, sat back down. 

Xander didn't understand. He didn't see how he could be forgiven, not after the things he'd said, intentionally, purposefully hurting Spike. "And you wanted that?"

"Hell, yes. The only thing you didn't do is fuck me, and I wanted that, too." Spike thought his enthusiasm might be a bit overboard, but Xander was tying himself, and the bed sheets, up in knots over nothing. It was true, though. If Xander would just accept that he owned him, that he was Xander's to use how he wanted, when he wanted... But Xander still wouldn't look at him, and Spike could almost see things falling apart. Toy cabinets sanded and painted, given to the girls as china cabinets, the room turned onto a study or library, the toys... Xander would burn the toys, not able to look at  them again.

"No." Xander sat a little straighter, his voice forceful, reminding Spike of how he was before. For a moment, Spike thought that maybe the spell hadn't worn off completely, but he chanced a look into Xander's eyes, and saw the shine of unshed tears. "I've done this before. I was in there, watching. I was pretty much powerless, no matter if I didn't want to do those things that way, but there was no way I was going to do that to you."

"Why?" Xander didn't want him, Xander didn't want him, oh, God, Xander didn't want him.

"Because it wasn't me. I mean, it was, but it was some animal me, making you, forcing you to, because I wanted it, not because we wanted it, you know?"

Oh, Spike knew, all right.

"That's why I kept leaving. If I had stayed, I would have, and you'd never be able to forgive... I wasn't going to do that to you."

Spike sighed. Damn Xander's honor and damn his own inability to risk this close-enough for the complete. "Honestly, Xander, I'm not upset."

"You liked it?"

"Yes."

"Oh."

"What? You're thinking so hard smoke's coming out of your ears, Pet. What is there to get? You wanted me and I liked it. You did nothing wrong. Came on a little sudden, is all. Don't you see? The point of the spell was to get you to turn me away, cast me out, but you didn't. Must be really shitty magicians, those demons."

"Good magicians. I wouldn't, couldn't do those things to you otherwise." Xander sighed and tried to get more comfortable on the bed before continuing.  "I just love you too much for it to have worked right. They thought they were dealing with... I don't know, people playing or something. But love, that's more powerful than magic. Learned that on a bluff when an evil, veiny version of my best friend tried to kill me. Those sorts of lessons stick with you."

Spike swallowed hard against the lump that had risen in his throat. He wanted to speak, but Xander continued. "I don't want to treat you like that. I remember it, and I was watching myself do those things, and I can never eat at the steakhouse on third, by the way. Saying things to you and I never wanted to... I don't want to do that to you. I've already done things to you that I never thought I could do to anyone. I don't think I could treat you like that again."

"You don't want to do this anymore?" Spike's eyes flashed yellow as the demon came to the fore. "You don't want to be Master? Demon not good enough for you now?"

"No, I-"

"Fine! Soon as the sun sets, I'll be off. Leave you to your normal human behavior."

"Spike, that's not-"

"No! You don't get to walk out on me. This time, I'm leaving." Too much, too much, and all the things he'd feared in the cave, those things that he'd convinced himself were just a result of the spell he convinced himself now were real.

"Spike! Sit down, now! You are in my room and you are my property and I did not give you permission to speak. Now sit down and shut the fuck up and listen to me." Xander laid back down, sweating lightly, not over the weakness from the spell, and the outburst took most of the strength he had regained. But at least Spike was sitting now, jaw clenched, head turned away.

"Tell me if you're listening to me." Xander asked, noting the stupidity of the question even as he spoke.

Spike looked at him for a moment with narrowed yellow eyes. "Yes." He enunciated. "I am listening." He paused dramatically before adding with a sneer, "Master."

Xander sighed. "What I was trying to say was that I love you too much to take advantage of you like that. I never said I didn't want to be your Master, did I?"

Spike shook his head once before remembering that he was angry.

"I just feel really bad about being such a dick to you, and you keep saying how much you liked it, and I can't be that for you. I can Master you, I like it, I want it, I want you. But I can't do it that way. That's how everyone else... It's not what we have. We're not... Tell me if you really want to be treated like that. Talk to me."

"Just didn't want you getting all worked up over it. If I wanted to be with brood boy, I'd have moved in with Peaches, wouldn't I?" The words came without biding and Spike briefly wondered once again if the after-effects of the spell were still lingering in the room. He'd never wanted to tell Xander exactly how conflicted he was over his Sire, and he desperately hoped he didn't pick up on it now.

"I don't only do it for you, you know. I need this, too. Do I give you what you need?" Xander asked with such longing in his voice that Spike forgot his anger.

"You give me everything I've ever dreamt of, Xander. Everything. Now, then, always. It doesn't matter as long as it's you." Tears shone in Spike's eyes.

"I was worried that I've been becoming too dominant for you."

"When?"

"Before this. A while back, when we argued."

Spike thought back to their last argument, back to the night in the alley. One more issue still unresolved, piled on top of the heap that was threatening to topple over and bury them both. "No. You're not. It wasn't about that."

"What was it, then?"

Spike didn't answer, couldn't answer.

"Please? I laid out what I felt."

"Not now, Xander. Please?" He couldn't tell Xander, would never tell him, and he was far too exhausted to come up with a decent lie.

Xander sighed. One of these days, he was chaining Spike up and then he'd get his answers. A slight grin crossed his lips as he shut down the guilt, just for a while, and allowed himself to think about bringing Spike in here again, this time with no doubts, no questions, both of them knowing they were there for both of them. "Come up here. You need to rest as much as I do. And I need to hold you. Need to be with you. "

"I love you, Xander."

"Love you, too, Spike. Thanks for bringing me back."

"Love you, Xander."



Part Seventy-Two   Drunk Again



Xander drifted off to sleep under his vampire blanket, content and sated, feeling better already. Thanks to vampire-Consort healing, the shared bruises were fading already, from both of them. The spell had left him weak and exhausted, but he could feel the effects wearing off, and by the next morning the only consequences would be a hang-over and whatever emotional damage he'd inflicted on Spike. No matter what the vampire told him, he knew that this would prove to be a turning point in their relationship, one that either broke them or made them stronger. Neither one of the could stand any more talking that night, and so he could only hope it was the latter as he began to fall into a deep sleep.

Spike, on the other hand, relaxed only enough to lull Xander to sleep. He had spent the entire day watching Xander sleep off the effects of the spell, leaving his side only to feed, dose Xander up to speed his healing, and then replenish the blood supply in the dungeon's fridge. When his boy awoke and called him to the bed, Spike's night had just begun. With his thoughts spinning out of control, and his Master in no shape to comfort him, through either affection or pain, and his body aching for release, he left to pursue the only course of action left open to him. He waited for the heartbeat under his ear to slow and steady and the breath ruffling his hair deepen into soft snores. Then he carefully extricated himself from Xander's embrace, grabbed his duster and a spare pack of smokes and left the apartment.

Xander jerked awake as Spike slithered from the bed, carefully trying not to wake him. He listened to the door shut, vowed to make Spike tell him what was wrong, then fell back asleep, passed out and exhausted from everything before.
*

Spike took his customary seat at the bar, ignoring the sycophantic demons trying to work their ways into his inner circle. He had no inner circle. Wouldn't they be just thrilled to know he and his soul rolled over for a human every night, and he couldn't bear the sight of his Sire anymore, even as much as he longed for him. What kind of a vampire would ignore the draw to his Sire? One that mastered his territory, not to feed of the residents of the town, but to protect them. One that had no desire to play this political, hierarchical game, though at the same time did. One that was broken and wrong and couldn't seem to fix it, no matter how hard he tried.

He sighed, rolling his eyes, and slipping into game-face long enough to growl warningly at the skinny blonde vampire sidling up to him. She slunk away, defeated, back to her laughing friends who had tried to tell her the Master would have nothing to do with her. They huddled together, drinking the mandatory bagged blood and whispering the newest rumors of why the eccentric Master imposed these rules, and what happened to those that refused to follow them.

Spike tossed back another shot and continued to brood. The feelings of division within himself had only grown worse since the chubby bald man at the S&M shop mentioned turning Xander. And then came the kidnapping, then the spell, all before he could blink. Without the time to explain, fix, resolve the feelings, they'd been left to fester, grow out of control, leaving Spike even more divided and confused. It wasn't so much the issue of turning his lover that caused it. He didn't want that and neither did Xander. It was the issue of dominance and the internal wars the comment had caused that had him pounding back his third shot in five minutes. He ordered another, declined the offer of fresh A negative, and told the bartender to leave the bottle.

Dominance and submission played such a large role in traditional vampire relationships. Few demons survived long enough, or cared, to develop meaningful connections to anyone but their Sires. Dominance was not only a means to control fledges and minions, but the main way to show concern for any lovers who were more than cheap fucks. An elder vampire who took the time to train, to teach, to impart these rules on the younger cared; otherwise, it was simply a throw down and get off affair.  In that way, the desire to submit went beyond his own needs, it was an instinctual drive, necessary for the peace of mind of his demon. If the demon was to believe Xander when he told him he was loved, the demon needed Xander to prove it, not with words, or even gentle touches and caresses, but with rules, demands, and punishments.

Xander made a good Master, for a human. Always with the qualifier, though. They were bonded as Master and slave, although not as much as they could be, and also as Master and Consort, although, again, not as much as they could be, and a little off from tradition. They were well on their way to being fully bonded as Mates, even though Spike had no idea what that meant for either of them. But, as a human, he didn't understand, couldn't know the full extent of Spike's need. To be fair, Spike knew he'd never fully explained, and had to take some of the blame for his warring emotions on himself. But then the demon's voice would well up inside of him, whispering sibilantly, growling violently that Sire would know, Sire would fix it, Sire wouldn't need words.

Spike could feel the resurgence of the demon more and more often, and it was harder to control his impulses except when Xander forced him to submit. And he didn't do that often enough.  Xander only took that step when Spike initiated it, and his demon used that as further proof of Xander's inadequacies. His inner voice told him that Xander didn't love him enough to take him, that he was only humoring him with the submission. That Xander could never understand the true need within him, and could never override the claim of his Sire. No matter how many times Xander told Spike that he did this because he wanted it as much as he did it for Spike, he was much less persuasive than the voices in his head.

He hated referring to himself as if he were two separate creatures, but at times like this he had little choice. It wasn't he who wanted Angelus. Logically, even emotionally, he'd be content never to see the other vampire again. But every instinct he possessed urged him to seek out his Sire, his true Master. He wanted to let Angelus renew the claim and set things to rights.

Demonically speaking of course.

He could just see it now. He turned to the vampire sitting to his right, drained the bottle of Jack and reached behind the bar for another. "Can't you, mate? I go home, and suck his cock deep, just like he likes it. Then I say to him, taste of him still in my mouth , on my tongue. You ever sucked off a human? Better 'n blood, it is. So I say, 'Hey, buddy of mine, remember when my Sire tortured you for a few weeks? Remember how much you hate him? Remember when I told you I loved him? I was wrong, it's not love, it's desperate, aching need, and, by the way, it's not past tense, and I wanna go visit him so we can do it again. Won't it be fun? Maybe he'll fuck us both this time!'" Spike took another long swig off the bottle draining half its contents in one try. "I'd be lucky if he dusted me right there where we lay."

The minion, not knowing what else to do, nodded, causing Spike's fist, which was still bunched in his shirt, to knock into his jaw.

"No, don't nod at me!" Spike picked up the first bottle by mistake, and upon seeing that it was empty, tossed it over his shoulder to land in the remnants of the shot glasses he'd abandoned earlier in the night.

Grateful to stop the self-induced pummeling, the minion shook his head quickly.

"You see, it's not fun for humans. Not most of 'em, anyway. They're so fragile. They don't have Sires, don't understand the draw. And they have to bloody talk, talk, talk about things. Except when they won't talk, and you can't just throw them down and shag it out of 'em, you see. No, cause that's not how they do things, and even if it was, it's not my place. And that's the whole problem, you see? Because I don't want him,  I want my Xander. I just can't seem to convince this wanker in my head of that. You know, it's a shame. Hell of a lot easier to eat them than live with them."

Spike noticed movement behind him and spun around, dragging the hapless minion right along with him and bracing himself for balance against the unfortunate fledgling's back.

"Sit! Back! Down!" He bellowed. "I said it was easier, I did not give permission!"

One of the vamps became ambitious, taking in Spike's slurred speech and wobbly posture and assuming he was in less than full control. He made a move for the door and Spike followed, lodging the stake in his ribs before pulling it out again, dusting the vampire by the second step.

"No killing. Rules still stand," he slurred, and then promptly passed out.



Part Seventy-Three   Master's Human



Xander woke slightly before dawn, unsure as to whether the phone or alarm clock was to blame. It turned out to be both. He reached to his right to shut off the alarm clock, startled when he realized the bedside table had moved. The previous day's events came back to him, unfurling around him and reminding him why he wasn't in his room. He climbed out of the empty bed, awkwardly rushing to the phone in an attempt to answer before the machine picked up.

Empty bed?

Empty?

"Spike?" He yelled into the phone, wincing as the sound reverberated in his head, making the pounding that much worse.

"This is the Master's human?" The whiskey, cigarettes, and gravel voice asked through the receiver.

"What? Yes. Where's Spike?"

"The Master is currently... resting. He said to inform you to go on about your day. He'll return for you when it is safe."

"Safe? Why isn't he safe?"

"In the daylight." The voice was obviously unimpressed at Xander's powers of deduction.

"Where is he?"

"He did not specify that I inform you of his whereabouts."

"Let me talk to him."

"He did not-"

Xander glanced at the clock, knowing that if he didn't get off the phone soon he'd be late for his quarterly meeting with the owners, and probably out of a job. At least he was no longer possessed, who knew what he might have done to the whiney little bastard in purchasing while in that state. But if he needed to go rescue Spike, he really wanted to get on with it. "Look, put him on the phone right now or I'll be forced to tell him how you threatened me."

"I did no such thing!" The indignant voice squeaked.

"Who do you think he'll believe, hmmm? You know how protective he is of his..." Xander struggled with the wording, not comfortable with this pretending. Spike was his, not the other way around.  "Possessions. Now put him on the phone."

Xander listened as the voice grew distant, grumbling about teaching lessons and pampered pets. Then someone grunted into the phone.

"Spike?"

"Xander." Unmistakably Spike, in unmistakable pain.

Xander's panic rose.  "Spike? Are you okay? Where are you?"

"'M sleeping. Home later."

"Where are you?" Had they drugged him? Was he concussed?

"Bar."

"Oh." Xander deflated, fear rushing out as quickly as it came. He leaned against the counter, rubbing at his temples.

"Home later."

Xander winced as the phone clattered to the ground, holding the receiver away from his ear until he heard the tinny sound of the first voice come through the phone again.

"Are you satisfied, Master's human?" The voice attempted impatience, but could not quite cover the nervousness Xander had instilled by going along with this ruse.

"No, not really." Xander slammed the phone down and began his morning ritual, fixing a very large cup of coffee to start with. Sunset could not come soon enough.



Part Seventy-Four   Phone booth



Xander was waiting when Spike came home that night, arriving about an hour after sunset. He could tell this wasn't going to end well. He could smell Xander's irritation out in the hall, heard his heartbeat rise when he came in, not with the thick thumping of arousal, but with the stuttering irregularity of forcibly contained rage.

"How ya feeling?"

That wasn't concern in Xander's voice. An icy chill crept down Spike's spine. What he did had been wrong, of course, stupid and selfish, but he had to, he had to get out. "Fine."

"And you're home now?"

Spike looked around the apartment, with the pointed expression of 'duh' on his face, deciding to cover his fear with snark. It worked well enough in the past.

"You couldn't have told me you were planning on sneaking out for all night?"

"I wasn't planning on it. And I had-"

Xander interrupted. "You had someone give me a message. And you lied while doing it."

"I did no such thing!" Everything else, he could handle being placed at his doorstep. He'd done something, he should be held accountable for it. But he had not lied, and wouldn't stand for being accused falsely when there was plenty of truth to go around.

"That, that whatever he was that you had call me. Said I was your pet. Is that what you do? Come here and use me for what you need, and then go out and tell them all it's the other way around? You got that bar of yours all riled up over tales of your human pet, Spike?"

"No."

"Sure about that? Because from where I'm sitting-"

Hands held in front of him, placating him without touching, sure that that would only make it worse, Spike interrupted. "I didn't tell him anything, Xander. I passed out, he had instructions if anything happened to me to call here from before, back when I first took possession of the bar. He made the assumptions on his own. I didn't say anything about what we have, then or now."

Xander's anger faded a little, irrational territoriality replaced by a need to prove who was the owner and who was the property. "Don't deny me, Spike."

"Never."

"You wanted this, you initiated this, you accept this."

"Yes."

"It wasn't a question."

"I know."

"You belong to me, Spike. I'm with you and I love you, but you are mine."

"Yes, Xander. Yes."

Xander took a deep breath, this new need to assert himself fading. That could be set aside, his needs weren't priority right now. But he had to ask, had to know where Spike's lay. If he really, after all that he'd done, all that Spike said he was okay with, ranked lower than a bender. He tried to keep the plaintive note out of his voice, but he heard it anyway. "You couldn't have called me?"

"Don't like phones," Spike snapped off, his automatic response to the question.

"Whatever. I've seen you use them, we talk on the phone every day. Don't make up some excuse, 'oh, I don't like phones'. I don't like my boyfriend sneaking off in the middle of the night to get drunk and then not even having the consideration to call me when he doesn't come home after, after!" Xander bit off the rest of the tirade until he could collect himself. His voice had risen steadily until the end when he was shouting, anger taking over again, knuckles turning white on their grip on the chair. Too much walking on eggshells. Too much of this secretive bullshit. Too much. "Haven't we been through enough yet? And forgive me if I'm over-reacting just the tiniest bit here, but I was kind of hoping we could try to get over what just happened before adding you gallivanting around all night without even telling me first!"

"Look, Xander, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to get as far gone as I did. The guy called, and I talked to you."

"Only because I made you."

"I said I don't like-"

"Tell me."

"What?" Spike's eyes darted around the room, evasively, looking for something, anything to distract Xander from this line of questioning. Anything else. Just not this.

"Tell me what it is with you and phones."

"No." Firmly now, meeting Xander's eyes, attitude for attitude.

"Tell me." Xander had not moved from his position on the sofa, staring toward the door like the done-me-wrong wife in a bad B-movie.

"No."

"Spike, you owe me an explanation."

Eyes narrowed. "Are you guilting me into this?"

"Yes. I'm guilting you, and if that doesn't work, I'm fully prepared to pull rank on you and make you tell me."

"That's..."

"Yes, it is. Now, what's so important that you have to run off, get passed out-drunk, somewhere dangerous, somewhere you'll be made a target by any up- and- coming wanna- be master with enough sense to stay sober, and you can't bring yourself to care enough to let me in on it? Tell. Me."

"Fine. You comfy? Because I start, and the minute you so much as move, story's over. Got it?" Challenge in his tone, in his posture, but acquiescing all the same, because this was Master and this was what he wanted, what he needed, this was his punishment and his reward and his Xander doing it.

Xander sat still as a statue. Spike didn't pay any attention to him before launching into his narrative, still standing just inside the doorway.

"It was after. Did my thing, got the soul. I was nuts before the basement, you know. Looney as soon as it happened. Only thing that kept me from sitting in the sunshine was getting back to Buffy, telling her how sorry I was. Wasn't until the basement that I lost that, forgot to find her. Don't know if it was all part of the plan or not, but I ended up in the school.

"So I'm making my way across Africa, right, back to a port where I knew I could catch a ride on a freighter ship. I think it was Kenya when I had to stop, but for all the good I was, it could have been Mars. Hot that day. Very hot. Africa, in the summer, so, yeah, it was hot. Sun was coming up, and I was on the outskirts of town. Ate a dog that night. Lots of strays near the towns there, sickly so it's easy to catch one. Sobbed all over it, and got sick, hadn't done that before. Chip's still in, right, so I had to just keep it with me, let it follow me around, wait for it to die. Couldn't hurt it. Was close enough to starving not to struggle, guess it wanted to die as much as I did. Woke up that night, right, and there it was, tongue lolled out, not dried up yet, though, so it hadn't been long. Don't think I kept any of it down, and the guilt over the waste made it all the worse."

Spike stopped pacing, stood stock-still in front of Xander, glazed eyes not seeing much of anything. "Didn't know where to go, thought about not going anywhere, just sitting down and waiting for it, but I couldn't. Had to get back, had to tell her I was sorry. She wants to kill me, fine, but I wasn't going to take that from her as well. Sun started to come up, last stars blinked out of the sky. Pink on the edge of the savannah right there, and the only place to go was a train station. Lots of windows so people could see when their train arrived. Not like you could miss it, bloody loud contraptions. Think that in all the years they've been using trains they could make them quiet. So, lots of windows, sun coming up, nowhere to go. I'm looking around, really don't want to die now, now that crunch time came, never could go through with it. Never could, owed too many too much, couldn't let it go like that."

Xander couldn't remember any point in time where Spike spoke so much. He was usually very to the point, and this decent into babbledom frightened him. There was a haunted look in Spike's eyes, like something was welling up from within and Xander wasn't sure if the vampire would be able to fight it off if it took over. He wanted to stop this, stop the story and tell Spike he never had to touch a telephone ever again if he didn't want to, he could go out and get drunk and never call him, if that's what it would take to end this story right there. He wanted to go through the apartment and throw both phones away, run them down the disposal, rip the wires out of the wall, but Spike's voice had him pinned, and he didn't dare blink, let alone move.

"Found something, three phone booths, old fashioned stand up, actual booths. Do you even remember them? Don't see them much around here anymore. But there they were. Wood at the bottom, etched-glass inset into the doors at the top, but solid at the bottom. So I grabbed a flyer or newspaper or something and a pen from the scheduler's booth. Wrote on it, 'out of order', stuck it to the door and crawled inside. Braced the door shut with my body, even though it didn't matter so much. Lots of trains, but not a lot of phone calls going out that day.

"Tried to sleep. Too much noise, too many trains. Then the phone starts ringing. I ignore it. Not for me, but it won't stop, and I start thinking. If someone notices the phone works, they'll come and take down the sign, open the door, and that's all there is of me. Ash before she can do me, which is what I'm sure is going to happen when I get back. Started to be the only thing going for me, that it would all be over when she got me.

"So, I reach up, real careful like, to avoid the few stray rays of sun hitting right above my head. I grab the phone down, and I hear it. 'Spike,' it says. 'Spike, it's us. Don't you remember us?' Voices coming through the phone, and no, I don't remember them, of course, but I know. I know who they are. Didn't talk to most of my victims, but I know it's them. And I reach up to slam the phone back down, don't care anymore if someone hears it, if they open the door and it's all over. Don't care because then they'll have to shut up. Reach up and slam the phone down and sunlight hits my hand.

"It burns, hurts, but it doesn't matter because they're not in the phone anymore, they're in the booth. Everyone ever that I raped and killed and tortured and fed off of, they're all there, squeezed into that phone booth with me. Don't know how they fit, doesn't matter because they were really there, I could feel them, smell their fear, and pain, and all they did was ask. 'Why?'"

Spike stopped talking. Just stopped. Mouth still open, panting just a bit, but no words anymore.

Xander saw that he was shaking.

"I'm sorry, Spike," Xander whispered, not able to speak any louder, even if he wanted to.

"Just... gonna go to bed now."

"Want me to come with you?"

Spike nodded, and Xander was there, instantly running a hand down Spike's arm, not pushing, not pulling, just following Spike into the bedroom. Once there, he slowly, carefully removed the vampire's clothing, softly, then pulled the blankets back and tucked them around the pale, too pale, too thin body. Walked to the other side, took off his own clothes, and he carefully, slowly, gently climbed into the bed behind him.

Spike felt himself wrapped up in warm arms, strong arms, safe arms. Could still hear the questions, hundreds, thousands of voices all asking, pleading to know why. But they faded the minute Xander touched him, as his warmth seeped into his body, they receded, until all that was left was Xander, nonsense whispered in his ear, keeping the questions away.



Part Seventy-Five   Better



Nights continued much the same way for a while, each of them trying to pretend everything was normal when it obviously wasn't. Xander worked as few hours as he could, considering busy season was in full swing, but he managed to always get home before sunset, effectively keeping tabs on his vampire at all times. If Spike resented the coddling, he didn't mention it. He didn't mention much of anything. He didn't go out to get drunk after the last time. His few hunting trips to protect his territory were carried out now with Xander along. He'd been helpful, if a little too enthusiastic when it came to watching Spike's back. Then they'd walk home, quiet, and Spike all but begged Xander for a session in the dungeon. He'd sink to his knees as soon as the front door shut, nuzzling and rubbing or whatever he could come up with to get Xander to follow him into the room. He learned that this time, disobedience was only going to bring anger, and make his Master hurt, but it wasn't going to bring pain.

And Xander followed, naturally, because Spike wouldn't let him touch him except like this. Once in the room, more and more extreme measures were required each night until Spike would come, exhausted and bleeding, but too tired to go out until at least the next night after sunset when Xander would be home, with him.

Either way, at home or not, he was escaping, and they both knew it. Only Xander didn't know what he was escaping from. Every time Xander asked about it, if it was him, if he was getting what he needed, if he'd be more satisfied in some other situation, Spike distracted him with sex. Both of them were aware that it wasn't working, but Xander had yet to confront Spike about it more forcefully.

Nothing else was mentioned about the phone. Xander still called at lunch or whenever business was slow; Spike still let the answering machine pick up and confirm that it was Xander on the phone before he'd relax. It wasn't often that they spent a calm evening in anymore, reading or watching television, and the days of foot rubs during old movies seemed to be over for good.

Xander just couldn't handle another revelation like the last confrontation led to. He knew Spike couldn't. His vampire was already so close to breaking, proving it in every tense silence or evasion of contact. Xander was not going to be the last straw on his back. He would make it better. He could make it better. All he had to do was be whatever Spike asked him to be, and if that meant he had to whip him, tie him up and deny him, work him over with straps and floggers and draw blood before Spike could even get hard, then that's what he would do. He would not push, he would not cause him to relive any trauma, not ever again. And if he didn't get to hold him anymore, rub him into a limp puddle of cool muscles and purring growls when he tried to move away, then he would just have to deal with it, channel all of that into the brief moments Spike relaxed back into his arms, just on the verge of sleep, when muttered words that sounded not enough like 'Master' and far too much like 'Sire' to Xander's ears, whispered from Spike's swollen and bloodied lips.


*

Spike lay listlessly on the sofa, waiting for Xander to come home and fuck him, flipping through the television channels. When the phone rang, he flinched nervously. Xander had already called him at lunch, there was no reason for him to call again. Spike sat up, muting the television, and waiting for the machine to answer, hoping the phone really was ringing and that it wasn't his hallucination come back to haunt him. Again.

"Spike? It's Willow. I was just, um, calling to, you know, um, say hi-"

Spike picked up the phone and stopped the machine from recording any further. "Red? I got it, what'd you find out?"

"Good, will you erase that message before Xander hears it? I'm not good at lying. He'll know what we're doing if he hears it."

"It's all right, I'll take care of it. You got the e-mail, then?"

"Yeah, I got it. I don't know though, Spike. Xander's my best friend."

"This isn't easy for me, either. He's my best friend, too, Red."

"I know. That's why you have to tell him-"

"I won't. He can't, I won't put him through that."

"Do you think it'll be easier when he finds out on his own? You think he won't be more hurt that you couldn't tell him than that you-"

"I don't want to talk about it. It's not up for discussion. Just tell me what I need to hear."
*

Xander sat down heavily on the sofa and plunked his beer down on the table next to him, ready to start the weekend, hoping that he could somehow convince Spike to stay in the whole time. Tonight was covered. There was a kung-fu movie marathon coming on, and Spike had promised they could watch it together, just like before. But after that, there was only the sunnsy Saturday ahead before night would fall, and Spike would come up with some unfriendly-to-humans task far out in his territory.

While Xander wondered exactly when he'd have to start the next day's beating to ensure Spike stayed in all night, Spike was in their bedroom, rooting around in some old book. He had said he'd be out to watch when it started. Xander was just about to call him when he sensed Spike in the hallway and turned to look at him. Spike paused, watching him, more than watching, judging maybe, before taking a deep breath and closing his eyes. When he opened them, Xander could see he had come to a decision about something, and he sat up, making room on the sofa for his vampire to get comfortable with him.

Spike came over and rather than sitting with Xander, arranging them into a tangle of soon-to-be-naked limbs, he folded himself onto the floor by Xander's feet, attention fully on the television set showing inane commercials. He wrapped his arms around his drawn- up knees and then stopped breathing entirely.

Xander blinked, bent down to whisper in his ear, and asked, "Whatcha doing?"

"Sitting."

"On the floor?"

Spike tilted his head back to look at Xander. "Yes."

"Why?"

Spike shrugged.

"Wanna come up here?" Xander patted the soft leather next to him.

"No." Spike turned his head back to the television.

"Comfy?"

"Yes."

"Wanna talk?"

"No."

"Wanna watch the movies?"

"Not if you're going to keep interrogating me, no."

"If I stop?"

"Yes."

Xander shrugged back, and laid down on the sofa, pushing Spike's shoulder until the vampire moved closer to the end where his head was. They watched the movie, Xander's lips inching closer to Spike's ear as the dubbing got worse, one arm bent under his head, the other resting across Spike's shoulder so that his fingertips could lightly brush against Spike's nipples during the boring parts.

By the middle of the second movie, Xander's pinching fingers and wandering tongue had Spike panting slightly. This new position made it almost impossible for him not to lean his head back, exposing his throat to his human, letting the warm, moist lips nibble and kiss from ear to collar-bone and back again. Spike turned, suddenly, kissing him savagely, pulling Xander's lower lip into his mouth and biting, just enough to make Xander gasp, then deepened the kiss.

It was the first time Spike had taking control like this in such a long time, and Xander relinquished it eagerly. Anything for Spike to want to touch him of his own free will, and not because Xander tied him up and made him. But Spike couldn't bring himself to push for any more, half fearing, half longing for the reprimand for his presumptuousness that would have come if this had been his Sire, rather than his Master.

Xander waited for the kiss to escalate, Spike's shoulders tensing and relaxing repeatedly under his hands, but nothing happened. Finally he grabbed the vampire's shoulders, pulled him off the floor and onto the sofa, onto him. He eased his hands around Spike's back, tugging the tee-shirt up and out of the way, allowing Spike to pull him up to sitting. He struggled out of his own tee-shirt while Spike's slight weight settled once again onto his lap. This was his favorite, with Spike straddling his thighs, cool chest to warm, lean hands trying to tangle in his hair, failing because it hadn't grown back out yet.

"Hate this hair cut, hate it, don't fucking cut it again."

"No. Fine, won't." More meaningless words as belts unbuckled, buttons unbuttoned, zippers unzipped.

Spike stood, jeans off, helped Xander with his, and pushed him back.  "Need you, Xander. Please."

"Yes. Yes, now." Xander's hands on his hips, pulling him down again, back to where he was, thrusting against him and getting closer with the scent of him, the heat of him surrounding him. Spike heard the end table drawer open, too busy working over Xander's claim scar to watch as Xander prepared him, distracted until a warm finger stroked across him, and then in.

"So tight." Breathed against his neck, warm and wanting.

"More. Now, more. Harder." Spike impatiently, worked himself against Xander's hand, back and then up, and Xander responded, adding another finger and quickly a third. Spike screamed, his eyes flicking to amber and then back as he regained control.

Xander knew by the sub-vocal growl he could feel through his fingers and straight to his cock that Spike was ready, held him steady as he withdrew his hand and let Spike take over, positioning them just right and biting down hard on Spike's shoulder as his vampire slammed home. Spike stilled, face frozen in a silent cry as he was filled, Xander's teeth and cock in him, making him quiet inside and desperate outside. He flexed his thighs, pulling himself up, and sinking back down, building up to a frantic rhythm as Xander thrust up to meet him.

Buried all the way and then just barely in, over and over until he felt the orgasm building, exploding, and he was coming, blood still flowing into his mouth, spilling over Spike's shoulder and down his chest to mingle in the come there as Spike came too. He slumped back, sweat soaked leather threatening to dry and stick, pulling Spike with him, still inside him, both of them panting harshly. Spike's face nestled into his neck, a gentle sucking, no teeth, no biting, just a soft pressure. "So good."

Spike's appreciative noise met his ears as the suckling intensified. Xander lay back, limp and sated, until he felt Spike shift a little and then stand, pulling Xander's hand.

"Shower."

And Xander followed, unable to let go of this creature, this feeling, and knowing that while everything seemed right through his post-orgasmic haze, it really, really wasn't.
*

That was the start.  From then on, whenever they did sit together for any length of time, Spike automatically sat at Xander's feet, on the floor rather than on the sofa next to him or in a chair beside him. It was vaguely disturbing at first, but once Xander realized Spike was more comfortable that way, he always had one hand free, running through Spike's hair or across his neck while Spike subconsciously purred and leaned into the touch. Something was wrong, and Xander was determined to figure out what it was. But he didn't need to ask. Not yet. He could figure this one out on his own.









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