Part 13
Spike stared at that small man-made harness which had caged him for so long.
He blinked, realizing he should say something, and wondered just how long he
had been contemplating the chip. The witches smelled nervous, with a subtle
undercurrent of fear. Willow's hand wavered slightly from holding the chip
out for his examination. Without speaking, Spike slowly lifted his hand to
hers and instead of taking it, closed her hand into a fist so that he was no
longer mesmerized by the sight of the chip. Spike was glad that Xander still
had a firm hold on his hips. *Wouldn't do your Big Bad image much good to
swoon in front of the children, eh?* He leaned into Xander and nuzzled his
hair, breathing in deep the scent of his lover. Since breathing was
unnecessary he held that Xander-scented air in his undead lungs while he
contemplated the emotions tainting his mate's musky essences. Xander was
afraid, but judging by the minute changes Spike discerned in his scent, he
was less worried about an unchipped Spike than he had been moments ago about
the witches performing the spell. Xander's grip tightened; then the hand
furthest, and most likely out of, the witches’ sight moved south to cup
Spike's ass while the other trailed up his torso and started carding Spike's
hair.
"You okay?" His brown-eyed boy radiated concern and tenderness.
"Yes, Pet. I'm fine." Spike leaned into Xander's embrace to look into those
eyes.
Xander's hand moved down to trace the angle of Spike's jaw. "The plan's the
same. You stick with me. You watch both our backs. Under no circumstances do
you give them the opportunity to get their hands on you. Are we clear on
that?"
Spike tried to speak. The fierceness of Xander's naked concern stripped away
Spike's usual bravado. Spike had yet to wrap his mind around the fact that
the chip was gone. Spike had anticipated that if it was removed during
Xander's lifetime he would have to convince the boy of his love all over
again - prove that he wouldn't kill him and those who were his.
Inconceivably, the young man who had spent the better part of his life as a
defender of mankind now sounded ready to kill anyone who might harm Spike.
It was too much to take in. For years Angelus had considered him expendable.
He had been valued only for his ability to baby-sit Dru. Dru, sweet, mad Dru
had expected him to protect her but had left Spike to pretty much take care
of himself since he had been turned. Xander - human, fragile, ephemeral
Xander - would move Heaven and Hell to give him the means to defend himself.
Spike hoped the boy was satisfied with a nod, because that was all he was
capable of at the moment.
The smile that greeted his nod was worth being caught speechless in front of
the witches. Xander kissed him hard and in one of his characteristic
lightning-fast mood swings said laughingly, "Places to go, people to kill.
I'll meet you in the truck."
Before Spike could follow the boy's sudden exit, Willow touched his arm and
said, "Spike? I...I need a minute, okay?"
Hoping to hide the fact that he was still reeling not only from the fact of
his new found freedom, but from Xander's ready acceptance of his chipless
state, Spike asked, "This the shovel talk?"
"No." She paused, considering what he just said and asked, "You know about
that?"
"Xander told me to expect it - figured you would have got around to it weeks
ago."
Spike carefully evaluated the nervous witch in front of him, who could
produce sunlight with a word. One arm was behind her back, her hand tightly
gripping the hand of her girlfriend. She was biting her lip and looking down
at his boots. Slowly, so as not to startle either witch he lift one hand,
gently placed his index finger under Willow's chin and tilted her head up
until she was looking into his eyes. "Red?"
She took a deep breath and showed him what Xander called her ‘resolved
face'; the boy maintained that there was no arguing with the ‘resolved
face'. "Promise me.... you have to promise..."
Tears welled up in her eyes and Spike knew what she was going to ask - that
he not kill, not feed - he had expected it. He knew that she was powerful
enough to enforce that request, more powerful than any chip. The only
alternative would be to kill her now, before she got her defenses up - still
not a simple task with her mate's ready, wide-eyed attention on him. If he
did kill her, he would lose Xander. Losing her like that would kill the boy
- if it didn't, having to kill Spike would. Spike knew no mater how much it
would hurt Xander, that the boy would kill him it he harmed Willow.
Tears started to slide down the witch's face that she impatiently brushed
away, releasing Tara's hand as she did so. Swallowing hard and mastering her
wavering voice with concern for her friend she continued, "If you leave,
promise you'll tell him - don't just disappear like Anya. He'd imagine all
kinds of things happening to you. So...if you're gonna just bail, and go
back to Dru or ...or whatever, you tell him first."
"I would never leave him." Spike abruptly cleared his throat and looked
away. He had been so startled that he had answered in his original accent,
which had earned him an even wider-eyed look from Tara. "Won't leave - he's
mine." He shifted to game face to try to hide his raw emotions. "‘Til I'm
dust no power in this world or any other’ll keep me from him. We clear on
that?"
Red was bad enough, but that little blonde of hers saw far too much for
Spike‘s comfort. Willow nodded and offered him a tiny smile through
tear-filled eyes and said, "Clear." She stood on tiptoes and kissed his
cheek, then left with her girlfriend.
Spike shifted to his human visage and looked down at his hands. They didn't
look any different but now they could rend flesh, break bones, choke the
breath out of his prey while it bucked and struggled. Hot rushing blood was
his for the taking. He could pull any of those warm bodies out in the shop
into the office and sink his fangs into the living, yielding flesh. All it
would cost him was Xander.
There had always been consequences to killing and feeding. Spike had never
before paid them any mind. Since Angelus had never succeeded in making Spike
wary of the fact that humans could and eventually would fight back given
enough proof that vampires did indeed exist, it would never be likely that
fear of Angelus - the souled version - would be what stopped Spike from his
indiscriminate carnage. The rage of his Sire had never swayed Spike from any
course he decided to take. He knew after what Angel had done to Darla that
blood ties alone would never protect him should his Sire realize the chip no
longer harnessed Spike. No, even knowing the repercussions that it would
cause among the humans and his Sire, the only thing that prevented Spike
from bathing in the blood around him was Xander. Spike could blaze a
blood-soaked path across the Hellmouth, but Xander would take the blame.
Xander protected him, loved him, would die for him - but would also destroy
him if Spike gave him no choice. Even knowing the act would destroy himself
would not stop Xander from dusting Spike if he had to. That sweet loving man
had an iron will and a warrior's heart. Spike could no more put the boy in
that position than he could kill Xander himself. *Right. You do realize
we're both likely to be dead by sunrise? You're wasting valuable time with
the boy. Plenty of time tomorrow to figure this out - if the world don't
end.*
Spike shook off his introspection, squared his shoulders and went out in
search of his mate. As he wandered out into the front of the shop, a young
woman consulting a palm pilot brushed past him and took over Rupert's
office. Though the closed sign hung on the front door the bell above it
jangled almost non-stop from the steady stream of young humans
systematically evacuating the store. The prom queen stood in the center of
the floor reigning over the grunt labor. Before Spike could ask where Xander
was, the boy strode through the front door, haloed by the evening sun.
"Cordy, Jonothan, I want you to go with this load." He said
"Xander." Exasperated, Cordelia gestured with a sheaf of paper at the
surrounding hubbub.
"I need you to control the chaos at the beta site. I'll follow with the next
load." Xander took the lists from Cordelia and she left with the other boy.
Spike paid less attention to how quickly Xander's orders were followed and
concentrated on the long, lean, sun-kissed man who had issued them. Xander's
shaggy locks were pushed back off of his face by his sunglasses which rested
on his head. He had removed the work shirt he had had on all day and was now
in only the white tank he had worn under it. It emphasized his broad
shoulders and strong arms. The dark jeans he wore fit well and were worn old
ones that he had stashed in the back of his closet as too small before Spike
had started dressing him.
As the minions scrambled to do his bidding Xander only had eyes for Spike.
The boy took one slow step toward him, bringing him out of the sunlight
streaming in from the shop window. He stopped to watch his lover watch him
and smiled shyly. Under Spike’s intense concentration Xander took another
step and then another. Once in arm’s reach, he tentatively reached up cup
his palm against Spike's cheek.
"We'll take the next truck," the boy said. "Do you remember your orders?"
"Had the chip removed, didn't I - s'not like I got brain damaged." Spike had
meant that remark to drip with his trademark sarcasm, but it came out in a
husky, bedroom whisper. Which surprisingly, in the general melee of the
evacuation, earned him a full-blown Xander-grin, the final step forward, and
a slow, passionate kiss.
~~~~~~
They didn't take the next truck. There always seemed to be one more detail
for Xander to take care of - one more person who needed to be reassured by
the boy. When the young man who had helped with the dragon showed up he
looked angry, but smelled scared. Spike guessed he was most likely worried
about his bouncy, combustible-obsessed girlfriend's safety, since Xander had
apparently given her free reign in the explosives department, against the
scowling boyfriend's express orders. Spike didn't even get a chance to try
out his chip-free brain before Xander had defused the situation with a look
of wide-eyed innocence and a half-hearted joke. The two men put their heads
together and devised a way to transport the volatile material. It made Spike
wonder what the Rennie did in his spare time, besides mock jousting.
Once the redhead was firmly focused on her boyfriend, and her boyfriend's
attention was monopolized by the explosives, Spike was finally able to get
Xander to hop a ride on the U-haul's last trip. They had a few minutes alone
in the dim back of the jostling truck, too few. Someone had cracked a glow
stick, the kind humans used to mark trails when they went caving. Though it
cast enough illumination for Xander to see a little detail in the dim
interior its soft orange radiance highlighted the boy quite well for Spike.
Xander slid down the locked door and, wedged among the food and first aid
supplies, was able to lean back and seemed to be steeling himself against
what might happen. There was so much Spike wanted to say to Xander -
questions he needed to ask. Spike sat next to him. Reaching over, he pulled
Xander's back flush with his chest and cushioned him from the jarring
movement of the truck. Xander's eyes fluttered closed when Spike began to
run his fingers though his hair. Judging by his even breaths Spike thought
he might have fallen asleep if the truck hadn't started down the tight
spiral of the parking garage's ramp.
Hearing the door unlock, Spike and Xander scrambled to stand. Light flooded
the truck bed when the door opened. Looking out across the parking area
Spike saw organized groups of minions stacking weapons and supplies. Runners
came and when from a line of tables along the far wall, including the one he
and Angel had assembled. As he and Xander stepped down to the floor, a
contingent swarmed the truck and began to unload its contents. They had not
walked the distance to the command tables when Spike heard the truck start
again and turned to see it head for the lower level.
Humans wielding clipboards and Palm Pilots descended on Xander like a pack
seeking the attention of their alpha. Xander held up one hand and instead of
listening to them in turn snapped out his questions to the group.
"Are we secure?"
"Willow said it's set, she did it first thing." An overeager cheerleader
type piped up.
"We have people watching our exits from six exterior vantage points."
Jonothan said. "So far nothing about our base looks out of the ordinary.”
"We have perimeter guards inside at all entries; they're in coveralls and
posing as painters," said the sleek young man that Xander had said was a
former teammate of his.
"How's our recon?"
"Screwed." Jonothan looked down at his clipboard and then offered, "This
phone thing is even messing up the landlines. They work; our patrols just
can't get to them 'cause everyone is using them."
Xander ran the fingers of both hands back through his hair and contemplated
the garage and the people milling around it. He heaved a sigh then said,
"Okay. Sunnydale is about to get hit by a fitness craze. Send the runners
out in gym wear and have them lap the recon circuit and bring in verbal
reports."
Jonathan peeled off from the group to implement his order.
"Infirmary?" Xander continued his shakedown of the site.
They circled the area three times. At first Spike thought Xander was
indulging in some pre-battle superstition, or that the witch had him working
some kind of spell. It was a kind of magic. Jittery, frightened young people
saw Xander's sure and rolling gait and received his calm and optimistic
smile and were transformed into quiet, determined men and women. Walking
also served to dispel some of Spike's nerves - waiting had never been his
strong suite.
While they walked along inspecting the preparations, Xander frequently
brushed against Spike or lay a hand on his arm or shoulder, almost as if to
reassure himself that Spike was still with him. Spike was with him, all
right. Even under the smell of stale carbon monoxide and various leaked
automotive fluids, Xander's scent teased at Spike's limited self control.
Spike longed to throw the boy up against the wall and bury himself in his
body. He imagined sinking his teeth into the tense corded muscle above
Xander's collarbone and felt himself salivate. The drive to finally claim
his mate, publicly - to mark him for all to see was beating against Spike's
higher brain functions like the fluttering wings of an endless flock of
birds.
After another check - in with his administrative officer, Xander took them
off in search of Willow and the others. About halfway to the infirmary Spike
managed to ask the question that the removal of the chip and Xander's
intoxicating scent kept driving from his head. What was the plan? His boy
teasingly admitted, at least to Spike, that there was no plan, other than to
put themselves in front of whatever was heading their way and to hope that
they were strong enough, prepared enough to meet the challenge. Claiming a
quick kiss, Xander then ran ahead, perhaps to avoid the swat on his rear he
so richly deserved. His dancing brown eyes sparkled with laughter as he
turned back to make sure that Spike followed. Xander looked so young, so
alive, Spike was riveted. He covered his distraction by leering and watching
the reaction of his mate. Each deliberate step Spike took toward Xander
corresponded to a subtle change - his eyes dilated, his breathing deepened,
and a lovely flush spread across his face and neck. *They know not much what
I am like, not what he is, my Avatar....He is the Jester and the Jest and he
the Text himself applies. [1]*
Spike was careful not to touch Xander, fearing the boy's wrath if he lost
control and jumped him in front of his graduating class. Instead, after
closing the distance between them, he ghosted his lips across the warm flesh
of Xander's face and murmured into his mate's ear, "Thought we were going to
find Red."
Xander swallowed and nodded. They continued along side by side, more
subdued. Spike watched Xander covertly glancing up at him from under his
long lashes. He gave a self-deprecating laugh when Xander's shy smile told
him he had been doing the same thing. They quickly found out that everyone
was awaiting their arrival upstairs in an office normally used as the
cashier's break room. The mood changed abruptly when they reached the top
level of the garage. Sunlight was still spilling though the entrances,
though softer and approaching nightfall. Xander clenched his jaw and,
placing his body between Spike and the searing light, made sure their route
was as far into the artificially lit interior as possible.
Spike wondered just who and how many of the white hats Red had shared the
information about the chip. He wasn't letting Xander out of his sight, no
matter what state his Sire was in. He only hoped Rupert would keep focused
on the problem at hand and not divert Xander's attention from the upcoming
battle. Spike tried to prepare himself for anything as he flanked his mate
and they entered the office.
1. Rudyard Kipling ‘An American' --
Part 14
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