Part 4
Alone in Xander's bathroom, Spike pondered the boy's reaction. There had
been no mistaking the increase in his heartbeat or the solid wall of
pheromones that had slammed into Spike's senses. Xander had, on occasion,
flirted with the vampire, whether he had been aware of it or not, but never
had he given off such obvious signs of sexual attraction. But then again, he
had never flashed the boy before - maybe he should have. It was fun to watch
the easy confidence Xander had displayed when garnering his troops to do
battle with the dragon evaporate like a morning mist. *Hadn't the Watchers
been surprised by that? You would think with all the time they spend tossing
off about the supernatural, one extra-dimensional beastie wouldn't set them
all agog.*
Spike finished peeling off his clothes and lined up Xander's odd assortment
of cleaning supplies along the edge of the bathtub. He tried small amounts
of each to see which had the best chance of cutting through the smelly
slime. *Surprised I could scent the boy at all.* The gasoline and paint
thinner seemed to have the best effect. With a snort, Spike spared a thought
for the silly bint who had been drenched in the dragon's blood and the other
Watchers trapped in a hotel suite with her. *Hope this makes them leave. Bad
enough trying to keep them from finding out about the nibblet, but I don't
like the way they were looking at Xander. Hold on. Why don't I like the
attention they're paying to the Whelp?* Spike sat naked, perched on the edge
of the empty tub, completely at a loss.
Sure, these were Buffy's minions and, as far as he was concerned, that made
them his responsibility, but the boy was different. It wasn't just that
Xander had trusted him; it was that he could trust Xander. Tonight for
instance, at the same time Spike had realized that the dragon wasn't playing
along with the plan and was in fact about to attack, he had seen Xander
running for all he was worth toward the others. Spike had only been free to
assault the dragon because he knew beyond a shadow of a doubt that Xander
would first get Dawn to safety before attempting to save the others. When he
saw Xander gulping in great gasps of air he didn't even have to see Dawn to
know she was all right. It was a relief to have a stable hunt partner, one
whose priorities and vigilance he could trust. Dru had never been like that.
Pretty colors, shiny objects, talking dolls ... there was no telling what
would distract his dark princess. But Xander, for all that his mind seemed
to flit from one thing to the next like a crack addict channel surfing,
never lost sight of what was important. Xander protected the same people
Spike was now guarding and had been doing it longer. Yet he accepted Spike
and relied on him. The Slayer had given Spike the first sense of belonging,
but she lacked Xander's feral loyalty. That was what made Spike feel secure.
So what had Spike feeling all possessive, beside the usual vampire shit? The
boy certainly wasn't hard to look at, with thick dark hair, long lashes, and
big eyes. Xander was more along the lines of sweet Drusilla than the golden
beauty of the Slayer. The boy's long, hard body was an added bonus. But a
shag was a shag, and as much as Spike might like to consider dipping into
that hot, hard package it wouldn't be worth risking his place, as tenuous as
it was. Not without a stronger basis than a wave of lust from a randy lad
hardly out of his teens. Tonight had been fun. The Slayer would have been
pleased. He'd met the challenge, fought the good fight, and kept the nibblet
and the rest of the minions safe. And they had protected him. No, no shag
was worth that feeling he had gotten in the magic shop when they had all
stood with him against the Watchers. To be protected and to be turned to for
protection, what more could a demon have wanted? Well, being a demon he
could want quite a bit more actually, but time and the chip had taught him
to hold tight to what he had. Now, if he could just get rid of the bloody
Watchers...
~~~~~~~
Much to everyone's relief, the Watchers left after another two days. They
now seemed more wary of the Slayer's minions, since they had seen them in
action. Rupert still had a job, monitoring the activity surrounding the
Hellmouth. That seemed to please him. Spike would have preferred to sever
all ties with the Wankers. The only upside of the visit was that they had
mentioned visiting LA to assess Faith's progress, which meant that they
would be harassing the Magnificent Poof and his minions. The rest of the
week was routine. The witches were working on some top-secret spell and the
nibblet was planning a day trip with them to the Renaissance Festival up
north. Dawn had been coming out of her shell more and more, and with summer
approaching, there seemed to be a social whirlwind among the girls her age.
Though she had always received the invitations, now she was more inclined to
accept a sleepover or afternoon trip or a swim party. It was Friday. The
Nibblet stayed at the dorms with the blonde witch, planning on an early
start in the morning. Red had come with he and the boy on patrol. Spike was
antsy; he didn't feel safe letting Dawn out of his sphere of influence. He
had pretty well established Sunnydale as his hunting ground. Since he and
the Slayer were credited with offing a Hellgod, and he and the minions had
been dusting any and all rivals, he was unofficially considered the Master
of the Hellmouth. He didn't mention that to Red when she sighed in
disappointment at not getting to test whatever new spell she had ready.
Spike had hopes that it wasn’t as dangerous to her vampire ally as the ball
of sunlight. Sunnydale should stay quiet until some new big bad got wind of
who was holding this prime territory. Spike didn't delude himself; very few
of the old ones would think twice if they thought he was all that stood
between them and the power of the Hellmouth. Yet the minions remained
oblivious. They patrolled, and expected things to stay much the same as they
had when the Slayer had, for all intents and purposes, owned the Hellmouth.
For a crew who had spent the past five years hunting vampires, they were
surprisingly ignorant of the social nuances of the species.
A shared look was all it took before he and Xander reached an unspoken
agreement and shadowed Red on her way back to the dorms. She might be a
powerhouse, but she looked like a meal and could always have attracted the
unwanted attention of another human. That was happening more and more;
Xander seemed to read his mind on occasion. Admittedly it could be that they
had the same goals, the same priorities. Spike was pretty sure it would be
quiet the rest of the night. Between Red's ball of sunlight and his private
hunts after his humans had turned in for the night, he didn't expect to see
many fledges until someone new moved to town. It would happen; Sunnydale was
a prime hunting ground and someone his age couldn't be expected to hold it
long, but he had no intention of running. This was the Slayer's territory
and her minions were what anything taking over would have to go though, so
Spike would go down fighting - he had to.
Thinking a beer would cap off the evening nicely, he suggested they swing by
the Bronze. After being hammered by another wave of pheromones and enduring
a bout of babble, they headed back to the boy's place. Xander had beer and
blood in his fridge and much better reception on his telly than the crypt.
Xander's heart rate dropped back to normal and he and Spike spent some quiet
time watching the telly and knocking back a couple of pints. The small talk
faltered and he caught a whiff of Xander's returning lust. Thinking of
something to divert the boy's admittedly limited attention he brought up
Dawn. When the boy pointed out that soon she would be out of school for the
summer and that every day would be filled with hours of burning sunlight in
which Spike couldn't follow, the bulk of which she would insist on being
away from him, Spike was seized by blind panic. Spike was then treated to
the disconcerting feeling of being reassured by the boy. Xander's voice was
calm and soothed his agitation, more with the sound than the meaning of the
words. Truth told, Spike had all he could do to keep from howling his
frustration at the need to protect the girl and to keep her happy. Gradually
the meaning of Xander's word crawled through the primal reaction of his
higher brain functions. Xander was telling him he was part of the pack, that
he belonged, that he would always belong. This affirmation that the alliance
that the minions had formed with him wasn't as fragile as he thought soothed
him. Spike almost purred at the pleasure he felt. He didn't want to admit
how unsure of his position with the Slayer's minions he had been. He
protected them to honor her memory, but what did they get out of it? How
could they trust him? He had betrayed them before. They knew he was evil.
Despite all that, and Spike knew that the boy knew exactly what he was,
Xander firmly and with all the authority of the alpha male of the group
didn't just offer him sanctuary, but acknowledged him as an equal. He
promised Spike that he would never have to be alone again. Unlike the
half-truths and grudging deals he had been offered by his own kind, Spike
knew in every fiber of his being that Xander would die before he would
betray a friend. Xander's scent was open and straightforward; there was no
duplicity or suspicion emitted when he said the words, just the same sunlit
smell he gave off when talking to the witch or the Watcher. It was enough to
know that. Knowing that on a primal level Xander considered him to be a
member of his pack, to use the boy's term. *Wonder if he knows how often he
lets that slip when the girls aren't around.* But that wasn't all Xander
offered him in the blue light of the telly. The boy lowered his defenses and
exposed his vulnerable underbelly to the consummate predator. Xander leaned
forward and kissed him. The kiss wasn't flavored with the lust that had
sparked earlier; it held an aching need, a longing, an aloneness that Spike
would never have guessed could come from someone as well-loved as Xander.
Spike couldn't help but kiss back. And in another display of fearlessness
the boy asked him to stay the night.
Part 5
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