Non-Sequitopia
Parts 31 to 60
by
Misanthrope7842
Part Thirty-One Arrangements
Xander left the apartment after ensuring Spike was in bed, comfortable, healing already. He then went to the only place he could think of that would be quiet enough to let him think, private enough to let him cry, and distracting enough to divert him when either got to be too much. He went back to the office.
He saw the same black mustang, red Chevy truck, and horrible yellow BMW that he always passed on the way to work, and realized he was heading in at the normal time for a slow Friday. He hadn't known he'd spent that long at home. It felt like years and seconds at the same time had passed. Maybe if he closed his eyes and wished. Real. Hard. It would never have happened at all.
Instead, he closed and locked his car door, entered the lobby, said his good mornings to the security guards, pushed the button for the 30th floor, and refused to cry. He'd done this a lot in junior high, pretended to be A-Okay, and what do you know, old habits really are hard to break.
His secretary started to comment on his return, sure she had cleared his calendar for his week-long vacation, but one look at his face and she was bringing him a fresh pot of coffee and promising he would not be disturbed. Xander thanked her, profusely, remembering that she was an executive assistant for a reason other than her impeccable filing.
Xander sat at his desk thinking. He knew about dominance and submission. Light stuff like silk ropes and spankings from his time with his very active 1100-plus-year-old ex-demon lover, those were good. He liked the light and fluffy, and he knew that he preferred to be the giver than the givee, when given the choice. But the other stuff, knives and whips and actual bleeding that hurt like hell but wouldn't scar even virgin flesh, pain and pleasure differentiated so minutely that there really was no difference any more, and the degradation, humiliation, awful guilty emptiness that followed, that he knew about as well.
He might have repressed those memories, put them into a box and chained it shut like he did with so much else in his life. But he hadn't. He remembered every second, relived it in dreams he'd had the remainder of his time in high school and even afterwards. Sometimes in his dreams, he switched things, made Angelus the bottom, repaid him threefold, the way the karmic law Willow had never quite grasped instructed. He wished it had been righteousness, honor, that prevented it from really happening, but it wasn't. Only the knowledge that upon his return, Angel...again Angel, good and pure and oh-so-guilty... would let him, would gain atonement, relief from his actions prevented him from acting. And he hated Angel for that more than anything else. His father destroyed his innocence, But Angel destroyed his knowledge that he'd never. Be. Like. Them.
Xander pushed down his rage and focused on the now. Now. Now now now nownownow. What the hell was he going to do now? Spike wanted him to beat him. Spike wanted... Spike needed him to punish him. Spike needed him to do this for him or he'd come home one day with a chocolate iced donut and offer it to his big pile of dust.
Xander opened his rarely used laptop and set it up. Even in this state he was aware enough of corporate check-ups and Internet watchdogs to know better than to use the office PC. He didn't want to go down in water-cooler lore as the guy on the fast track who was fired for surfing the web. For deviant gay porn.
***
Xander took a deep breath, the need to go home and soothe his vampire overwhelming the need to not be there. His clinical approach to matters lessened the pain, and he really had learned a bit, but he found that his own experience with the Angelus the Master of Pointy-Haired Dominance, Spike's original Master, already taught him nearly everything he needed to know. He made the arrangements to purchase several items he remembered being Angelus's favorites and wagered that Spike, adoring him the way he had, favored as well. And then he packed up the computer, left his office, and steeled himself for the homecoming he was sure to receive.
As soon as he opened the door, he knew things had changed. Spike greeted him with snark and attitude, and then pissy-vampireness when Xander wasn't affected. Reject before rejected was Spike's motto as much as laugh before laughed at had been his own, so Xander tried to take it for what it was. Defensiveness.
He tried. Hard.
"Enjoy your day at the office, Whelp?"
"No, not really. I'm supposed to be on vacation."
"Spent long enough."
"I had a lot to do."
"Right." There was no contrition in his voice, but no sarcasm, either. "You're so important there they couldn't live without you." Oh, there it was. Must have gotten lost.
"I am important there, Spike, and you're not going to do this again. Either shut up or go away, but don't play me again," Xander snapped.
Spike didn't reply.
"Let me see your hand."
"I don't need a bloody nursemaid."
"I just want to make sure you're all right. That you don't need-"
"All right?" Spike's voice rose oddly. "I'm a vampire, you stupid git. A stupid, souled, stupid vampire." Each word was punctuated with the ripping of bandages, and tearing of raw but rapidly healing skin. "This is not what I need. What I need are a couple of humans, eight warm and ready pints each, hot and thick, not half-clotted out of the microwave and not cut with fucking pig's blood to fucking make it last longer!" He whirled in Xander's direction, demon showing. "That is what I need and sod all else."
Still coming closer, Xander pinned him in a corner, which was arguably the stupidest thing he'd ever done. "That's what you need?"
"No. I just decided to make up stories about vampires needing blood." Spike turned his head one way, then the other as Xander raised his arms to either side, effectively trapping him. "What are you doing?" Bravado was gone, and Spike remembered that Xander had left to make 'arrangements'.
Xander stared him in the amber eyes. Using his slight advantage in height and more significant advantage in weight, he forced Spike to look up at him. Then he tilted his head back and to the side, making his position of dominance one of submission.
"Do you want it?"
"Xander, no, I cant." Spike whispered, dropping his eyes and pressing farther back into the corner Xander had trapped him in, realizing the even if there had been room, Xander only would have followed.
"Do you want it?" Xander hoped his information on Masters and Sires could be trusted, and that it would work between a vampire and a human. "Do you want to taste me, your Master?" Xander asked again, slowly.
"Yes," Spike whispered, hearing the boy's blood rushing here and there with his excitement, seeing the pulse beat in his neck, smelling the hot sweet scent of Xander with no fear at all. Both soul and demon responded, soul to the fact that Xander wanted him, demon to the offer of Master's blood.
"Do it. Drink from me."
"I-I can't."
"Now." Xander ordered, iron in his voice.
Spike hesitated no longer, slowly sinking his fangs into Xander's warm flesh, careful not to rip the way his demon wanted to , but simply pierce and withdraw, sucking gently. While Xander was not his Sire, and had yet to properly claim him, he was his Master, and one does not refuse to drink from his Master. As the first drops of blood hit his tongue, Spike fastened his lips around the wound, drawing hard to get more of what had to be the most amazing taste he'd ever had.
"Yessssss," Xander hissed, and pulled the vampire's body closer to him, then backed them hard into the wall, grinding his sudden erection into Spike's hip. He'd known this could be good, good enough to pay for, but he had not been prepared for this. This was... Ice plunged into his neck and turned to fire as Spike's fangs withdrew. Then the pain from the overwhelming lust that replaced it. He could feel the life leave his body and enter Spike's with each gentle suck. He was responsible now for Spike, so much so that he could provide the one thing that he needed most. He felt Spike's cool lips slowly warm with the hot flow that pooled from his neck and into Spike's mouth, as time seemed to stop and every cell in his body opened, ready to leave him and become part of Spike forever.
Spike knew he had to stop, he was going to take too much, but it was so good, the temperature just right, and it had been so long. When Xander moaned and called his name, all promises to remain gentle fled and he grabbed Xander's hips, drinking deep, pulling and sucking and using his fangs to reopen the wound that wanted to heal under his lips. He felt the boy shudder, echoing the tremble as Xander's thick release was already soaking though his jeans.
"Spike." Whispered, and he pulled back, watching as Xander's legs stopped supporting him. Spike released him and backed off in horror at what he'd done as Xander sank to the floor, a boneless, light-headed mass over overworked nerve endings. Spike dropped next to him, and his worried face was the last thing Xander saw.
Part Thirty-Two Blood Loss
Xander regained consciousness and was cold. Not just passed out and need to wake up cold, but really cold. He was in the pool-sized bathtub, cold water running, but barely pooling around him, leaning back on a not-quite-hysterical vampire who was slapping him occasionally and he was cold.
"Xander?"
"Hmm?"
"Wake up, Xander. I have to tell you I love you. You have to know how sorry I am." Slap. "Please Xander, you have to know. I have to tell you, and then I'll go." Slap. "Please, Xan, wake up now." Spike's next slap was stopped as Xander sat up, and grabbed his head.
"Xander?"
"Yes. And Shh."
"You're alive?"
"Unless you weren't the only one drinking blood in there. You were, right?" Xander stood up, felt his pulse pound in his temples and dismissed having been turned, then began shedding his sodden clothes.
"I'm sorry. I love you. I'm sorry."
"Next time, you can skip the bath, okay? I'm freezing."
"There will be no next time, I'm leaving now, just as soon as you warm up."
"You most certainly are not. And you bet your sweet ass there'll be a next time." Xander grabbed one of the big fluffy bath towels and began to rub himself dry.
"No, I can't. I almost-"
"Spike, come on. You look ridiculous sitting fully clothed in the tub, and I think you're turning blue. Hm, Spike smurf." Xander laughed too hard at the mental image, just knowing Spike would want to turn Smurfette, and probably Hefty Smurf, too, and then grimaced as the action made his head hurt worse.
"I'm not coming with you. I'm leaving."
"Why?" Xander was still smiling, now that he was dry and beginning to warm up.
"I almost killed you."
"No, you didn't."
"Right, cause I always drain people to the brink of death without intending to kill them."
Xander laughed then, and Spike's bizarre ability to flush when he was angry and just fed combined with his frozen blue tinge to make him slightly purple. But maybe that was only in Xander's head. Still, Xander began laughing so hard he lost his balance and fell to a naked heap in front of the tub. Maybe he was still a little light-headed.
"You know, I'm beginning to think that maybe draining you wouldn't have been so bad." Spike said petulantly as he stood in the bath and looked for all the world like a big purple drowned rat. An angry rat, but all the same.
"Spike, it wasn't the blood loss that made me pass out." Xander managed before dissolving into giggles again. "You know that. You've been doing this for how long?" Giggle. "I mean I know you're a little out of practice and all, but you'd still know if you went too far." Giggle, giggle. "I'm trying to comfort you, but I'm still a little loopy, so I'm sorry it's not working too well." Xander tried his best to sober himself, but he wasn't doing a very good job of it. Every time he thought the giggles had passed, the picture of a wet purple Spike/smurf threesome came back to him, making him start all over again.
"What?"
"It was the orgasm."
"What?"
"Trust me, I've lost enough blood to know the difference." At Spike's horrified look he continued. "Before, before you. I know the difference."
"It wasn't me?"
"Well, it was you, but in a good way. The best way. Although I have to say, all the times I've thought about you and me in this tub together, you certainly weren't fully dressed.""
"You liked it, then?"
"Didn't you?" Suddenly, Spike's fear became Xander's insecurity. "I'm not, I mean I don't taste... icky, do I?"
"Icky?" It was Spike's turn to chuckle, the emotional rollercoaster he'd been on the past... lifetime getting to him, threatening to make him as loopy as his boy.
"Do I?"
"No, Xander. It was amazing. You taste amazing."
"Does... does everyone taste good?" Xander wanted to apologize for his attack of giggles. Being laughed at while you bared your fears was not fun. instead he turned off the water and pulled the plug from the drain, not watching the water swirl because it would make him dizzy.
"Well, food is good, Pet, as far a vamps are concerned. I don't think many of them take the time to notice the differences, unless it's Sire's blood or Slayer's blood."
"But for you, you notice, don't you."
"I used to."
"Sorry."
"It's okay. I don't mind talking about it, sometimes. I just don't want you to think it's icky." Spike mocked.
"What about Dru?" Xander asked quietly.
"It wasn't something done to eat, Pet, it was something done for pleasure." Spike got that far away look again. Was it regret or longing? Xander couldn't be sure.
""Would you ever let me... want me to..."
"Want you to what?" Spike looked at him quizzically, beginning to dry himself now that the drama had passed.
"Never mind."
"Xander, what are you asking me?"
"CanItasteyou?" Maybe if he said it in a rush, it wouldn't sound so dumb.
"You already bit me."
"But I didn't taste you. Human teeth, and I wasn't trying to hurt you, well, I was, but not like that, and-"
"Xander!" Spike called, exasperation, weariness, and a bit of confusion coloring his voice. Xander looked back at him, big dopey grin number four on his face. He shrugged, but before he could apologize, Spike continued, "Do you want to?"
Xander nodded his head slowly.
Spike stared at him for a long moment before speaking. Xander was sure he'd just asked something incredibly stupid, like 'can I sniff your sneakers'. "Come here." Spike held out his hand and Xander stepped closer.
Spike let his fangs descend , and bit his thumb, then held it out to Xander. Biting was one thing, but his boy hadn't broken the skin, and tasting blood, tasting vampire blood, was something else entirely. He expected the boy to grimace and flick his tongue out, then shudder, the action never to be repeated. Instead, Xander's tongue came out and wrapped itself around his thumb, followed closely by his lips. His eyes drifted shut, and Spike couldn't stop watching him. He moaned as the fleshy pad of his thumb was pressed onto the ridges of Xander's mouth and the boy swallowed the small bit of blood he sucked out before the wound healed. Xander pulled back slowly, and released Spike, smiling wantonly as he met his eyes again.
"That was... wow, I could taste you, Spike."
"Xander, that's something... we need to talk."
Xander nodded again, and left the bathroom. "Not now, though. Can we sleep now?" His lightheadedness had faded into a achyheadedness, and nothing took care of that like a good long sleep.
"Yeah, Pet, let's go to sleep. You can tell me about all those times you thought about me in the bath, there."
Part Thirty-Three What You Need
Xander woke later that night, the hangover feeling gone due to Spike's thoughtfulness. The vampire had taken Xander to his bed, covered him up, forced him to drink a grove's worth of orange juice, and in general mother- henned over him long after he'd fallen asleep. Xander tried to assuage his guilt and though Spike's taunting, contemptuous mask fell back into place, Xander could see the guilt and fear shining in his deep, beautiful, soulful, haunted eyes.
Xander wondered when he'd turned back into a 'thesaurus', as Spike once called him, before glancing at the bedside clock. Glaring red numbers met his gaze, and he saw that he'd only slept for an hour or so. Most of the vacation was still in front of him, and hopefully it could start on a much better note this time. He concentrated before sitting up, listening to the tinny sounds of the television floating under his door. Spike should still be awake. He groped around the floor to find his sweat pants, only slightly, very embarrassed that Spike had put him to bed stark raving naked. After an ice bath.
"This is so not good for my self confidence," he muttered as he left the room to join Spike.
"Hey." He plopped down on the sofa, rearranging Spike's feet with a satisfied grunt.
"Good nap?" Spike continued to stare at the television.
"Yes. Thank you."
Spike's responding nod was barely perceptible.
"Spike?"
"What?" Spike did not turn to look at Xander.
"Is this the morning after awkwardness?"
Spike smirked, but halfheartedly. "Not morning."
"Good thing, too. Have you ever tried to talk to me in the morning?" Xander's attempted levity had, for once, the desired effect, and Spike finally turned his eyes, full of snarkiness and all, to him. "Also, just to clarify," Xander continued, "Shrinkage: not the best look on me."
"You shouldn't let me do that to you." Spike's eyes dropped. "Not when I'm-"
"I told you, it wasn't the blood. It was the bite. I trust you, when are you gonna trust me?"
"I do." Spike's soft voice turned something inside Xander.
"Spike, what do you need?" He hesitated, and Xander took a deep breath. "Come with me." Xander stood and left the room, hoping this was right, that he wasn't going to break his already fractured vampire.
Spike followed Xander into his bedroom, nervousness warring with intense desire.
Xander stood by the side of the bed and turned, looking at Spike with his emotions written across his face. Spike's stomach sank, seeing the intense love, the beautiful Xander he fell in love with, and once more sure that Xander was going to cuddle him until he fell asleep, reassure him with words and gentle touches. Not that that would be an unpleasant experience, but it wasn't what he needed. His throat tightened, because as much as he wanted to want that, it would hurt him more to receive it than anything he'd done to himself earlier in the week.
Xander spoke. "Look at me."
Spike looked.
"You know I love you, right?"
Spike nodded, not able to form words.
"Good." The grin and gentle look dropped. "Strip."
Spike blinked at the rapid change in tone, remaining still for a little too long.
"Don't make me repeat myself," Xander warned.
Spike rushed to remove his clothing, torn between complying to see what Xander would reward him with, and refusing, to see what Xander would punish him with. When he bent to remove his boots, Xander walked behind him, running a hand down his back, bumping over his spine and resting just above his hip.
Spike's fingers shook as he pulled the laces free of the knot he'd worked them into. Just as he started on the second one, Xander's hand came down hard on his ass. Spike jumped slightly at the unexpected contact, but Xander left his hand where it lay, rubbing softly across the denim. As Spike straightened, Xander walked back around to the front of him. He watched as Spike began to unfasten his belt.
"Slow. Do it slow."
Spike complied, working his jeans slowly down his legs, exposing the pale, hard lines of his thighs, knees, calves, ankles to Xander's gaze.
He straightened, fighting the urge to sink to his knees under Master's appraisal, but keeping his head bowed submissively.
"Do you trust me?" Xander asked, his voice thick.
Spike nodded.
Xander brought his hand down hard on Spike's backside, wincing at the loud sound the slap made in the enclosed space. His grimace turned to a shaky smile at Spike's gasp-turned-moan.
"Like that?"
Spike nodded, recovering from the second smack.
"Bend over, put your hands on the bed," Xander instructed. Then he continued the spanking, long past the time when his own erection weeping as much as Spike's. Past the point where Spike's cleansing tears fell, past the point where his palms tingled and burned, past the point where ivory skin turned pink, then reddened further. When the blows began to cause moans of definite pleasure, rather than guilt, Xander sped, alternating between harsh slaps and teasing scratches across Spike's back and then down across sensitized skin. His still-calloused hands slid roughly over the smooth flesh, causing Spike to push back into the touch. Xander pulled him close and grasped his hard cock, pumping it as he thrust against Spike. He quickly pushed the sweats down around his thighs, driving his weeping cock into Spike's warmed cleft, as Spike took over, pushing himself forward into Xander's hand and then back, working the both of them frantically. Xander felt his orgasm building, and panted out, "You'll never hurt me, Spike."
"Never," Spike cried out brokenly as he came, pulling Xander over the edge with him. Before Xander could recover, Spike turned, kneeling in front of him, sucking and licking him clean. Cool hands rubbed abstract patterns on his calves and ankles. Xander pushed him back gently, removing Spike's far-too-talented tongue from his far-too-sensitive skin. Xander pulled him up, wrapped his arms around Spike and caught his lips in a claiming kiss, tasting himself over the regular Spike taste of whiskey, cigarettes, blood, and something else. When he finally came up to breathe, he locked eyes with Spike, and asked, "Feel better?"
Spike nodded. "Much."
Xander pulled him down next to him on the bed, tucking Spike's head under his chin. "Good. Very good. Liked you like that. Liked me like that." Xander's post-coital babble slowed as quickly as it had started, and Spike could hear his heart rate slow, approaching sleep.
"Like you like that, too, Pet," Spike replied before giving in to sleep.
Part Thirty-Four Planetarium
"Xander, why are we at the museum?" Xander was leading them through the maintenance halls, their footsteps echoing as they walked.
"Sh. It's a surprise."
"Xander, the museum is closed over the holiday weekend."
"Yes, and trust me, this is a much better way to spend Thanksgiving than battling syphilis."
"I saw most of the stuff here when it first came out on exhibit, you know. Angelus and his culture. Snob." Spike snorted.
"You say that like you didn't want to see them." Xander teased. "I can see you now, all dolled up-"
"Oi!"
"Sneaking behind the velvet ropes and snacking on some random tourists." He continued, holding Spike's hand tighter and playing his thumb over the palm.
"Not random. We picked our dinners very carefully," Spike said, grinning even tough he was talking of his past. Xander didn't want to dwell on the murder and mayhem his lover had caused, but if he could get Spike to at least come to terms with it, then maybe he could move towards... acceptance.
"Not going to an exhibit." Xander opened a door and they entered a small, round room, theater style chairs along the walls and a projector in the open space in the middle.
"Xander, are we at the planetarium?"
"Yes."
"Xander, I-"
"I know my name, Spike."
"Just like saying it." Spike realized his slip and covered, "Making sure you're still here. Seem to have gone round the bend a bit, bonkers."
"Bonkers? And I like you saying it. You never used to do that. Do it again."
"Yes, Xander. Bonkers, Xander. Completely off your rocker, Xander. Breaking into a museum-"
"I did not break in." Xander corrected. He had paid their attendance fee, with interest, and added a little bit for the doorman's late hours and for holding open the emergency exit long enough for them to race through without setting off the alarms. He'd become quite resourceful lately.
"To go to a planetarium. Xander."
"Yes."
"With a vampire."
"Yes."
"I lived with Dru for a hundred years. I know the stars like the back of my own bleeding hand. We did this before, remember? It's night outside right now. We could go look at stars and name constellations and all that bloody romantic crap-" Spike began to sit in one of the chairs when Xander grabbed his shoulders and kissed him, hard.
"Not there. Over..." Xander led him to the open floor in front of the projector. He angled him left and right, scanning the wall. "Right there. Sit."
Not really in an order taking mood, Spike lay down, arms crossed casually behind his head. Then the heating system kicked on and he smelled the burnt dust smell that told him even though fall was quickly giving way to winter, the museum had not yet used it this season. It was hard for him to tell, but the heat in this room must have been on for a while; it was incredibly warm in here, hot air seeping toward Spike's head in not quite but almost breeze-like waves.
He heard Xander fiddle with the controls on the projector. "Sure you know what you're doing, Pet?"
"Yes."
"Want to clue me in?" Spike prodded.
"No. Stay there. I want you to know you belong to me. You forgot before, I need to remind you." Xander pressed a few more buttons and Spike heard the machine start and begin a steady hum. Xander turned of the main lights and returned to the projector. He pushed one more button and lay down next to Spike, mirroring his position. He waited for the film to begin and then was blinded by white light.
Spike had been expecting the dark background punctuated by pinpoint stars, but when his eyes adjusted again, he saw blue, bright blue. Tops of trees, still green with mid summer leaves that rustled in a slight breeze could be seen where the domed ceiling-projection screen ended. Fluffy cotton-ball clouds in the almost-shapes he remembered from his childhood daydreams floated quietly above. The heat in the room now made sense, the scene coming into full focus.
Xander had given him the sun.
"Sorry the season's not quite right."
"Xander?"
"I know it's not the same, but I thought maybe..."
"Xander?" It was whispered, pained, and Xander could hear the tears held back behind the words.
"I thought maybe it might be close."
Xander had given him sunshine. His confidence left him then as a horrible thought entered his mind. "I thought you were going to remind me..." Voice still so small. Was that what this was supposed to be? Was Xander showing him all that he could never have, didn't deserve? Did he know that Spike's most treasured fantasy was to be with him in the sun? If it was, the boy could teach Angelus a thing or twelve about torture.
"Is this... Are you punishing me?" Nothing had been said about it since that night, but Xander had been paying closer attention to Spike's demeanor. He would know that he was getting antsy, waiting.
Spike didn't think that Xander would do something so cruel. They were both well aware of their differences. They both knew Spike was still uncomfortable with the soul and demon competing in his body, his mind. Was Xander showing him all the reasons he was bad, evil? Now that he knew Spike was 'sick, twisted' and here was another reason he stopped loving him.
Xander sat up quickly. "Spike, no, I- This isn't your punishment. This is your reward." Xander hadn't considered that Spike would think that. He hadn't even thought that Spike might misinterpret, that he might be torturing him by reminding him that he was no longer part of this world.
"Reward?"
"You know how this works, right? I know it's not exactly the regular sort of reward, but I didn't think that would be quite appropriate now."
"You're rewarding me for burning myself?" Spike could not hide the utter confusion warring with hurt in his eyes and voice.
"No. I'm rewarding you for telling me. You did what I asked, you trusted me. You must always be honest with me. And I'm rewarding you for letting me do this for you, for transferring the power from yourself to me. You have to know that when we do this, I'm the one in charge, and I will take care of you. Because I love you, just as much as the punishment was because I love you. You don't have to do anything more than ask me, and I'll give you anything you need. If you need to be punished, then tell me. I'll do it. If you want to lay in the sun, to be warm, then I'll do that, too," Xander paused and finished the speech with a snort and smile. "Sort of."
Spike nodded.
"Now, lay down and enjoy the daytime." Xander smiled at him, lecture over, and removed his sweat- dampened shirt. He lay back down, and Spike wanted to close his eyes, to nap in the sun like he did as a boy, but not able to miss a moment of Xander's now bare chest in the golden light, helped by yellow bulbs, but close enough. After a while, Xander's breathing slowed and soft snores met his ears for a few moments before Xander twitched himself awake. Spike sat up and removed his own shirt, and lay back down, more on top of Xander now. He was still cooler than the slightly sweating man, but in this position, he could pretend it was his sweat, too.
Xander had been right, it wasn't the same. The air was too still. He could hear the hum of the projector and smell the dust and faint trace of cleaning supplies. Occasionally the sky would jump as the video looped and began again, the same cloud shapes that were on the left now back at the right of the screen. All in all, it was painfully obvious they were in a dark little room, in late November, not outside in the middle of June.
Spike didn't care. He was warm, he had Xander and there was sunlight, even if it was on film, It was as close as he had gotten in so long, and this sun had done what the other had not. Here there was no pain, and no desire to hurt.
Xander heard Spike take a deep slow breath. "You good up there?" He saw Spike nod from beneath his lashes.
After a while, Xander broke the comfortable silence. "Would you still think me bonkers if I said every cloud up there looks like a dick?"
"Not bonkers. Just bent."
"Well, then. There we have it."
Part Thirty-Five Mate
Spike shut the door quietly behind him, leaving Xander sleeping in his bed. Xander had had a long day and fallen asleep quickly; Spike, however, had napped most of the day, and needed to get out, release some of his energy. He needed to check with his contacts, make sure there were no plans to oust the unusually quiet Master vampire from his territory. Spike had a reputation as Master, and while he didn't need hordes of minions around to enforce it, he used to have them, used them to send whatever messages needed to be sent. He was all right with the change, he was a hands-on type of guy anyway.
He pulled on his duster and headed to the demon bar, the only one in town, which just so happened to be in his territory. Or it was now, since he had overtaken this part of town without too much hassle. The other Masters didn't want to face a confrontation with him yet, and this wasn't prime hunting ground, anyway. Here, he was afforded a wide berth from all but the newest and dumbest of demons. With his years of practice, he quickly rid the bar of challengers, taking them to the back alley to kill if they were the exploding type. This small unexpected courtesy ensured that there was always fresh human blood waiting for him, willingly given from still-living donors, no questions asked about his strange dining habits except, 'A or B negitive tonight, Sir?' and his stauts as Master ensured that his tab was always caught up, no matter how many drinks he'd had.
Tonight, though, something was off. He felt someone watching him from the time he entered. At first he chalked it up to admirers rather than assassins. He had quite a little fan base among the minions abandoned in this town. It was a transitory place, and one simply couldn't be bothered to remember all the bodies turned durring a vacation. Spike sighed as he remembered times past, not flinching from guilt quite so much anymore. Xander, Xander of all people, had tried to tell him that he couldn't change the past, he could only do what he thought was best now, and Spike tried to listen. They had been watching horrible old spaghetti westerns and somewhere in the middle of one of his stories, Xander had to reach over and brush the tears off his cheeks.
"You can't change it, you know."
"I know. It's just..."
"I know. But you're doing good stuff now."
'Can you forgive me?"
"Of course. I forgave you before we moved here."
"Promise?"
"I give you my word as the former vampire-hatingest kid in all the west."
"That was the worst John Wayne I've ever heard. And former?"
"Well, yeah. I figure once you make one your boyfriend, you lose the title."
"You abdicated your throne for me. How very romantic." Spike rolled his eyes.
"Hey, that's your country. Over here, we duel it out like men."
Spike chuckled to himself at the memory, but cut himself short when he noticed the bartender glancing at him nervously. As he waited for his glass to be filled he understood why. The hairs on the back of his neck began to stand, just as they had when Dru began to do something odd. He stood, allowing his features to shift, and scanned the bar.
At his unusual behavior, most of the bar's occupants quickly left, slithering or limping or running, depending on their anatomy's capability for speed. Once the dust settled from the mass exodus, both literally and figuratively since Spike ripped out a few throats just to prove what was what, he was eye to...well, chest with some very unhappy fakals demons. Xander's usage of the phrase 'big, dumb, ugly and mad' was about as accurate a description as could be given about the three demons. He knew very little about them. It seemed they had the ability to shape shift in their own realm, but apparently holding any one form was too much bother here. It was creepy as hell, watching them flow from one humanoid form to another, and it might have thrown Spike off his game, if he was the throwable sort. Spike berated himself internally at this descent into Xander speak and tried to focus, even though his thoughts seemed a bit swirlier than usual.
Swirlier?
This was all okay, though, because he knew what they were doing. He knew they were attracted to weakness, used a person's or demon's thoughts against him. He knew they could shape-shift, and he knew they were telepathic within their own pod, the strong enough members could use that ability on outsiders as well. What he didn't know was how to kill them, or what they wanted with him.
When he had backed himself into a relatively pointed-wooden-object free corner of the bar, the three smiled. They seemed to think he had made a mistake, but he knew that when outnumbered, not having to worry about your back or periphery was key to walking out alive. Or not, as the case may be.
"There something I can help you with, fellas?"
"You're weak." They said, advancing still. "You kill your own kind." The raspy voice sounded like nails down a chalkboard, only softer. Somehow, this was more disturbing than the louder sound Spike expected.
"Not just my own kind." He replied, still trying to figure out how to kill them. It had to be the eyes. The flat lifeless circles were the only constant thing in the sea-sickness-inducing form- changing. And if not, a knife in the eye was as good a distraction as any.
"You seek the company of humans." The three spoke as one.
"Next you'll be telling me I stink of humanity. Move on, shall we?"
"You have much power in your weakness. We could feed off you for days. Then we could find your human. He is strong in his weakness, as well."
"You will not touch my Mate." He didn't even realize what he had called Xander, too enraged that they would dare threaten him. With vampirically fast reflexes, he pulled the sharp blade from his duster and plunged it into the nearest eye. The smallest demon fell to the ground, not dead yet, but dying. The other two closed in on him, shapes shifting rapidly as the loss of one of their own angered them. Spike couldn't spare the attention needed to kill one without leaving himself open to the other. So he did what he does best. He improvised.
Dodging, and not missing a few of the punches and kicks aimed at him, he grabbed each one by an ear and slammed their heads together with a thick thud. Then he shoved each thumb into an eye.
"You do not even speak of my Mate." He growled above the demon's pained howls.
"He will leave you." The voice was ragged, still trying to be intimidating, but failing.
"No." He pulled his knife out of the now dead demon and rammed it into the already ruined one of the demon on his left. Twisting as he pulled out, he repeated the motion on the other eye.
This time gave the final demon the opportunity to change form completely, slowly taking on the visage of Xander.
"You can't claim me, Spike." Xander's voice came from behind him.
Focusing on the eyes, one still flat and lifeless, the other oozing blood through the attempted disguise, black and dull where they should be bright and colored like whiskey, Spike began to prepare to kill the demon with Xander's face. "I'm not your Mate, Spike, and I never will be. Trapped with you forever. You're too weak and you want me to Master you. Me, a human; you, a vampire. It's all very wrong, Spike. Angelus would never allow it. I can't claim you properly and you'll never be my Mate without it. Maybe he can claim me instead. Angel is strong and he could put a human in his place."
Spike let the demon continue talking, knowing Xander would never say these things. The demon kept babbling, seeming to ramble off on whatever thought it had originally picked up from Spike. Spike tuned out his lover's voice. Xander might think him weak, but he would never prefer to be dominated by Angel to dominating Spike.
"You're not him." And with that, Spike blinded NotXander and plunged the knife through, past the eye and into the brain, on both sides, again and again until the dead demon's face was nothing more that a puddle of purple slime.
Then, when his tears dried, he killed every demon lingering outside to see the outcome of the fight, collected the betting money pooled on the ground, and went home.
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