Hearts in the Balance
by
Tisienne Blue
Part Six
Three hours, four speeding tickets and six near-collisions later, Xander finally made Spike pull over.
Their flight from Sunnydale had been sudden, sure, but somehow the brunette doubted that the vampire had an actual plan. At first Xander had thought the blond had something in mind, but as their mad dash to so-called safety continued, it had become clear to him that Spike was just being… Spike.
He became certain of that when his constant demanding, begging, pleading and threatening finally had the car stopped at the beach, south of L.A. … with no destination that Spike would admit to.
“Look,” Xander said softly after a few very unsettling moments of silence, “I get why you thought we should run, okay? But… I’ve always been fonder of running to, not away. So… where are we going, baby?” He blushed. “Um. Spike. I meant to say Spike. Not baby.”
The vampire frowned and stared out at the starlit sea, watching the slow, steady swells roll in towards the shore, then out again after breaking on the sand. “Don’t think you really do get it, Xander,” he muttered, sure the human would hear him. “Told you what they wanted to do and you didn’t care!”
He turned, spearing warm brown eyes with sharp gold ones.
“If they’re wrong, mate… if it’s something wrong with us, not you… the spell they were talking about?” Spike shuddered, fingers going whiter than white on the steering wheel and only easing when he heard the first small, subtle ‘crack’ of the high-tensile plastic starting to give way. “Would have sent your spirit… soul, if you will… off into nothingness, yah? Trying to switch you with someone who doesn’t exist…” He paled until he was probably almost transparent, he figured, as an even worse thought occurred to him. “Or… heard about that vamp version of you. How’d you feel if you suddenly woke up in a demon’s body but with your soul… and no way back, ‘ey? And what do you think a demon in your body would do, first off?”
Oddly enough, Xander figured that was the one thing that he couldn’t bear. The one thing that made him entirely certain that Spike had done the right thing in taking him—them—away from Sunnydale. Because a vampiric him, waking in a human body on the Hellmouth? Well, it wouldn’t be hard to get turned and then… no more Scoobies.
He found himself shivering and reaching out for Spike’s hand before he remembered that this wasn’t his Spike. “I…” he began, pulling back and clenching his fingers tightly against the temptation, “Okay. You’ve made your point. But we still should know where we’re going. Because just driving? Not getting us much of anywhere except for lost.”
Six more hours had them well on their way to Scottsdale, Arizona; mostly because Xander said his mother’s family business was headquartered there. ‘They might not remember me,’ he’d added, ‘but I’m still family and I doubt… well, I hope they won’t turn me away, and since you’re with me, then maybe you too…’
Spike was entirely unimpressed by the idea that the whelp’s Mum had family with some sort of money. He figured it couldn’t be much of anything, after all, or why would Mrs. Harris have put up with so much crap from that fucker she’d married. Auto shop, maybe… or carwash. Still, any port in a storm, he figured.
Xander almost felt badly for the blond while he navigated, but then again, Spike had been so very high-handed about things since he’d called after the ‘talk’ with Giles. None the less, he’d clearly had Xander’s best interests at heart, and with that in mind, Xander flushed slightly and suggested a roadside motel that he remembered frequenting very often in the last few years.
Of course, nobody there remembered him, which seemed not to bode well for his ‘it’s not me, it’s you’ theory, but they weren’t that far from their destination, and…
“I hate this!” he snarled, throwing his bag onto the bed and glaring at Spike. “I hate that I don’t… fuck, Spike! I know who I am! I know what happened in my life! But every single step I take is telling me that I’m fucking crazy!”
Spike frowned and tossed the duffel containing his clothes onto the bed, as well.
“Not crazy, pet,” he finally said, looking at the bed itself even as he spoke… the one king-sized bed the room held… the one and only room that the motel had still had, due to the ‘renovations’ being made on half of the place, which Spike figured meant fumigations.
“Not bloody nuts, luv,” he repeated. “See, thing is… I believe you.” He smiled a bit crookedly at the stunned look on the human’s face. “I believe you, Xander. If only because I can’t imagine that there’s another dimension where Broody the Wonder-Git got himself a soul… where he offered you to me. Not something that prat would do ordinarily; not even as a trap.” He smiled a bit more. “Besides… always wondered why Watcher never bothered to train you lot to fight once he knew you weren’t going to leave Buffy on her own, you know? Wondered why a ‘former’ Chaos-Mage wouldn’t teach Red at least enough about her powers to control them. Wasn’t my place to ask, of course, what with being the bloody charity case… but I wondered.”
Maybe it was the look on Spike’s face that had Xander letting go of his anger and irritation… or maybe it was the fact that he could hear the sincerity in the vampire’s voice.
Either way, he found himself sitting down very suddenly, quite grateful that he’d managed to do so on the edge of the bed.
“He… he didn’t teach us… anything…?” he nearly whispered, fingers gripping the spread-covered edge of the mattress as he gazed disbelievingly at the blond. “I mean… not even… not anything?”
Spike sighed and shrugged out of his duster, then made sure the curtains were thick enough and drawn tightly enough to keep him from a dusty dawn before settling down beside his bloke and resting one hand on a clenched and trembling warm fist.
“Believe you, I do,” he said again, watching the boy’s face. “Whole lot of things don’t make sense when I think about it… including the part where I never much thought on it before aside from the wondering, yah?”
Xander heard him. Of course he heard him. He was simply too caught up in trying to breathe and not start screaming to respond right away, but finally… finally, he felt the fingers covering his own; felt the frank blue eyes watching him, and he couldn’t help but release one shaky breath.
“I… I know my memories are different from yours, Spike, but I don’t…” he swallowed hard, “I don’t think I really appreciated how different until now. I… will you tell me…?”
Spike cocked his head slightly then chuckled as Xander turned to face him fully, but he had to ask… had to be sure he was right about what he saw in the human’s gaze. “You trust me, pet?” he demanded, “Trust me to tell you the truth as I know it?”
Xander nodded slowly, not because he’d needed to think about it but because he wasn’t entirely sure he wanted the truth, even if he’d asked for it. “I… yeah… I trust you, Spike. With anything. Everything.”
He listened, eyes growing wider as the vampire spoke, and he scratched at the itchy spot on his head, a small part of his mind wondering just what kind of ink he was still having a reaction to, even after having showered.
Even when Xander woke up that evening, he was still baffled by what Spike had told him.
Of course, the confusion wasn’t the first thing on his mind because he was in bed with Spike, wrapped tightly around him, and fuck if he couldn’t feel an erection matching his own against his thigh.
In fact, if Xander was going to be honest, he’d felt himself rubbing lightly against that long, thick shaft even in his sleep, and… the rubbing was what had woken him since he still remembered the last five years with his…
But this Spike wasn’t his, and once he managed to recall that little fact he tried to pull away. “No…” he mumbled.
“Yessssssss,” Spike groaned, refusing to let the boy go. He held him close, hips shifting and rocking against that stunning heat. He hadn’t felt anything like it since…
His mind flashed back to the Slayer and the falling-down building… his crypt… the alley behind the Doublemeat Palace…
And no. That wasn’t even close to what he was feeling.
His arms tightened around the heated and toned form beside him and he opened his eyes to meet sad brown.
“Xander,” he murmured, “Luv… know it’s you, yah? Not trying to hurt you. Not thinking you’re someone else.” He swallowed hard. “Might not be the Spike you recall, but… still Spike, aren’t I? And… want you, pet. Want you, luv… don’t think I can stop now, a’right…?”
And it was alright. And at the same time it just… wasn’t. Spike was Spike, but not his Spike, and if he was wrong about what was happening, if he was wrong about this being his world, then… he’d be cheating on his lover, and even if it was with his lover—or his lover’s alternate—it was still wrong, and Spike would never… never… forgive…
Xander’s body moved automatically, rolling to press groin-to-groin against the blond’s, and the sharp gasp he released when two shafts covered by thin cotton met was matched by Spike’s.
Arms wound tightly around ribs, waists… then necks and shoulders… and when one voice rose in a high-pitched cry of completion, another followed—lower, softer, but no less stunned.
He couldn’t look at him.
Not even when they’d checked out of the motel and hit the road again.
He’d taken advantage and he knew it. Manipulated and used the completely innocent arousal to try to create some sort of bond.
Of course, there was already a bond, but he didn’t know why or how, considering.
“Turn there,” he whispered, hating himself for what he had done.
Spike followed the vague gesture of Xander’s hand, making a right onto what appeared to be a slightly more-traveled stretch of sandy earth. “Uh, pet?” he tried, wondering if the words would get any more response than his numerous other attempts, “Are you that upset about tonight that you want to drive us into the middle of nowhere to die? Because if it comes down to it, I can still drain you and walk out of here…”
Xander sighed. “We’re not in ‘the middle of nowhere’. It’s just… a back door, so to speak.”
The vampire frowned, even as he continued along the roadway. “And about tonight…? Pet…?”
“What about it, Spike?” the brunette asked wearily, still looking out the window. “I’m sorry. Okay? Now, can we just get there?”
The tires of the car would have screeched if it had been moving faster… or been on a paved road.
As it was, the vehicle slid a few inches as Spike swerved from the center of the packed sand ‘road’ and stopped the car.
“You’re sorry,” he growled, turning full vamp-face on his boy. “What the bloody fucking hell are you sorry for!”
Xander gave his irate lover a slightly quirked smile. “Everything, Spike. I’m sorry for… everything. But especially tonight.”
Part Seven
Spike was still fuming as he pulled into what was apparently a very private parking area behind the enormous building Xander had clearly directed him to.
He was sorry?
Xander was bloody well sorry about some of the best sex Spike had ever experienced, regardless of the fact that they’d both been somewhat clothed?
It was insupportable, he figured.
He’d spent a good twenty years being buggered by Angelus, then a hundred or so wrapped around-and-in his Princess, and months on end being the Slayer’s fuck-toy so she could ‘feel’, but…
That night, laying in a relatively cheap bed in a decidedly third-rate motel, he’d experienced a sort of completion that he’d never known existed before, and he’d be damned if he was going to let the boy shrug it off with an ‘I’m sorry’.
Of course, the whelp wouldn’t listen when he tried to explain, and that was how Spike found himself following the human into the building, which was clearly labeled as ‘LV Cosmetics’… and why they were crashing a corporate office building at close to midnight was a question Spike wasn’t going to ask, not to mention the question—also unasked—of how Xander knew the punch code to get in. He only hoped they’d be able to make it back to the motel after security held them for hours, trying to find out why they were there.
“Pet,” he murmured, one hand finding the small of the human’s back, “maybe we should come back later, yah? Or, you know, not at all…?”
Xander snorted, fully aware of the fact that his vampi… that Spike was trying to distract him.
“No.” His voice was as hard as he could make it. “I know I should just…” Xander stopped and shivered before darting a glance at the blond beside him.
“I should just accept things, right? But I can’t! I…” soft brown eyes closed and one tiny tear left the corner of one. “I want my life, Spike! I want my life!”
And as Spike could understand that, he couldn’t help but take the bloke into his arms and hold him close, once again noticing and appreciating the difference between the intimacy he felt holding Xander—fully clothed—in his arms and the few times he’d held Buffy, naked.
“Guess we don’t need to be going back,” he heard himself saying. “Got everything that matters, right? Clothes, cash… car…”
If it had been his Spike saying those words, Xander would have leapt at the offer. As it was, though…
He pulled away and started walking deliberately down the long, narrow hallway, giving appropriate signals at the proper points. Security might not recognize him, but they knew the signs… and seeing them, wouldn’t launch any of the defensive devices he knew were ready and waiting.
Finally they reached the plain, nondescript door that led to the lobby of the building, and if Spike hung back a bit when his human approached the front desk, he wasn’t going to admit it.
“Alexander Harris to see Mister LaVelle,” Xander said softly, smiling at the pink-haired young woman behind the desk.
Violet eyes looked first at the tanned fingers on the surface before her, then up cotton-clad arms to broad, strong shoulders… and followed the line of swarthy flesh to a gentle but stunningly strong face. “I… I… d-do you have an ap-pointment?” the girl asked, barely able to find the words.
Xander laughed and leaned closer still. Susie had always had a bit of a thing for him, and even though she obviously didn’t remember him, he was pretty sure he could use it to his advantage… and take her to lunch later as thanks.
“I don’t,” he admitted, “but I think he’ll be willing to see me anyway… if you’ll just call up and tell Doris it’s me?”
Susie’s face clenched slightly at the mention of the dragon-lady. “Um, I…” She looked again at the tall, stunning specimen before her and nodded. “I… okay.”
Xander waited while the girl rang up to the top floor, then waited even more while Doris apparently went to ask whether Xander was welcome, although he knew he was. Hell, his Uncle Jareth had been aware of him for his entire life, and even if the man didn’t know him now, he knew he existed.
He felt himself tensing, simply because this was the final test.
If Jareth didn’t remember his existence, then his friends back in Sunnydale had been right.
But if he did…
“You can go right up,” Susie said, sounding awed. “D-doris s-says you should use the p-private elevator…”
Spike blinked, then moved closer to his bloke, taking one overly-warm and sweaty hand in his own.
He smiled winningly at the pink-haired girl, then gave her a wink.
“Right, then. Guess we’ll just be… movin’ on up, yah?”
Susie swallowed hard, then sighed as the two men strolled away towards the elevators. Of course they were together. Looking like that, she couldn’t imagine anyone else being good enough for either of them.
Something—possibly a migraine—pulsed at the edge of her mind but she shrugged it off.
Bad enough that she was part demon, and wasn’t she just lucky that pink hair could be considered a fashion choice now? And violet eyes…? Well, they sold contacts that matched her natural ones. ‘Liz Taylor Violet’, she’d seen them called.
But visions, instinctive knowledge… seeing? Well, that wasn’t human… and Susie was human, or so she told herself.
She smiled slightly as the men stepped into the private elevator that would take them to Mister LaVelle’s office… and tried not to wonder whether she’d ever see the two guys again. Sometimes his visitors never came back, after all.
To say that Spike was surprised when a tall, extremely skinny woman met them at the elevator and called them both by name would have been an understatement; especially since he knew for certain that Xander hadn’t said anything about Spike even being there to the pink-haired chit in the lobby.
That didn’t change the fact that the woman did meet them, her eyes hard, lips unsmiling as she gazed them up and down. “Alexander. William. Follow me. Himself will see you now.”
And why the bloody fuck would whoever ‘himself’ was even be there so late at night? Unless there was something Spike didn’t know, which obviously there was because Xander didn’t seem at all surprised.
He fought the impulse to take Xander’s hand and hold it tightly for comfort—the human’s or his own, Spike didn’t know—as they followed the spindly-looking woman past what was clearly her desk.
“Hold on, here,” the vampire finally hissed, ignoring the fact that he was following his impulse to touch the slightly larger man by taking his hand in a hard grip. “Don’t like this, Xander. Something’s not bloody right.”
Gods, he was so used to trusting Spike that it took Xander a good few moments to remember that things had changed, and… and the vampire had had the same exact reaction the first time they’d gone to see Jareth, which could be either a good thing or a very bad one. Still, he couldn’t quite manage to pull away from the cool fingers tangled so tightly with his own thicker, warmer ones.
Xander darted a swift glance at Doris, his eyes begging for just a moment to talk with his… with Spike… before she showed them to his Uncle’s office and whatever was waiting for them there.
“Spike,” he murmured after pulling the blond a few feet to the wall, leaning close, “Please. We need… I need to do this. I can’t… if he doesn’t know who I am, then…”
“Bloody hell, you daft git! Of course he doesn’t know who you are! Something’s happened to the whole bloody world—except you for some bollocksed up reason—and you think this fucking twat is likely ta prove different?” The blond growled, eyes flashing gold for just a moment. “This is bloody well wrong, mate, and I can feel it even if you can’t! Not goin’ ta let you put yourself in the middle of whatever the fuck is happening here, am I?”
“So, what then?” the brunette demanded hopelessly. “We just… leave? And then what? I mean, according to you, the entire world thinks I’m some… pathetic, helpless, straight guy without a single brain cell and I can’t be that, Spike! I have a business degree, for fuck’s sake! I’ve been teaching at University level for over a year now and I was about to test for my brown belt in karate and you think I can just forget all that? Go back to fucking Sunnydale to be what…? The doughnut-guy, like you said? To be ‘straight-Xander’ who isn’t in love with his vampire, who isn’t gay and who almost married a vengeance demon, of all things? I won’t!” he yelled into the pale, shocked face. “I won’t do that! I worked too hard, too fucking long to just… accept that that’s my life now!”
There might have been an impasse right then, or there might have been more shouting, more bitter words from one or both of them… but they’d never know, and simply because that was the moment when the loud, sharp sounds of slow but steady applause began.
Spike blinked, still growling softly as his head whipped around to focus on the tall, solid man standing in the doorway of ‘Mister LaVelle’s’ office. “What the bloody fuckin’ hell…”
Xander sighed and met brightly green eyes over Spike’s shoulder. “Uncle Jareth. Um, hi. I, uh… I’m your nephew, Ale…”
The claps slowed then stopped and the golden-haired man with the poison-green eyes chuckled softly and a touch bitterly. “Alexander. It’s good to see you again. Please. Come in.” Those eyes shifted, finding his assistant’s. “Doris, please make the arrangements I requested. After the necessary… items are here, feel free to return to your… rest.”
The tall woman nodded quickly and made her way to her desk, clearly ignoring the two new arrivals now that she’d been given leave to do so.
“Please,” Jareth said again, his tone obviously ordering rather than requesting, “Come in, nephew. You and your… vampire.”
Blue eyes met brown for a bare moment, both sets holding the same shock and worry, but as they’d been invited, Spike and Xander found their feet stepping determinedly across the floor and through the open doorway, and it wasn’t until the thick slab of wood slammed closed with an ominous sound that they realized they’d even moved. Of course, they also didn’t realize that they were holding each others’ hands in a grip that should have been painful but instead was only comforting.
Jareth LaVelle took his seat behind the high-tech desk and rested his elbows on it, fingers steepled before him.
He gazed dispassionately at the blond and brunette, then sighed and nodded to the two chairs in front of his desk.
“Maybe,” he said conversationally, looking at his nephew, “You’d like to explain why you’re here. We had a DEAL, Alexander! You weren’t to return until you’d either gotten rid of that parasite,” he nodded slightly towards Spike, “or finished the bonding!”
Spike snarled loudly, every instinct of both soul and demon demanding that he dive across the glassy desk and wring the fuckwad’s neck. He was actually in the process of pulling his hand from Xander’s when the full meaning of the prat’s words registered.
“Wait!” he growled, true-face slipping to the fore, “you know him! You bloody well know my bloke!”
Jareth arched one sleek brow and nodded, giving the vampire a searching gaze before relaxing just a bit and laughing to himself. “Oh… the Powers must be pissed off, right about now,” he said. “Two souled vampires, and neither of them remember the real… never mind.” And that was all he’d say on that subject, no matter how much the two men pried.
Part Eight
Xander’s nose wrinkled slightly, even as he sipped the acidic tea his Uncle favored. Not that he noticed, really. He was too busy trying to wrap his mind around the fact that Jareth knew him… remembered him! Not just as the nephew he’d never met, which was what he’d been expecting, but actually remembered him… in the same way Xander remembered himself.
For his part, Spike was still growling slightly, though the tea had gone a long way towards calming him. It had been ages since he’d had a proper cuppa, after all, which didn’t surprise him. It wasn’t as though the Watcher had ever bothered to share with him. Why be civil with a vampire, after all? Except… if this bloke Jareth wasn’t pissing in the wind, then none of what Spike remembered had actually happened and while he’d admitted to believing Xander, it was something else again to hear the same story from a separate party, and…
“Not sure I understand, mate,” he said, golden eyes flickering between the blond man behind the desk and the brunette sitting at his own side. “If the whole world was affected by whatever the fuck happened, why is it that you weren’t?” Spike glared. “And you can stop with the come-hither thing, too. ‘m not interested, am I?”
The man behind the desk sighed and shook his head, deliberately not looking at his nephew. “It’s a very long story, William, but be that as it may. You seem to be suffering from a rather large misunderstanding. It isn’t the world that’s been affected. That would require far too much… energy. But then, Alexander isn’t known to the entire world, is he?”
Despite the fact that the words weren’t directed to him, Xander found himself sitting up straighter. “You’re right,” he agreed, mind racing. “And I spent most of my life in Sunnydale, so the people who knew me…” He swallowed hard. “It’s much easier to effect a change on just those who had personal contact with me, isn’t it Uncle? Tweak a neuron here, shift an electron there… change one single memory for all of them and…”
“And everything changes, Alexander. Yes. And in this case…” Jareth began, outlining what had happened the way he recalled it.
Spike frowned and held more tightly to the warm, slightly damp hand in his own as his eyes closed and the darker blond’s words appeared almost as images behind his lids.
Xander and his Mum—and Spike—coming to this same office building years earlier… the moment Jessica and Jareth met again after far too long… meeting Jareth’s son Mathry, Xander’s one and only cousin…
Spike didn’t remember the boy in question, of course, but somehow he just knew he didn’t like him.
His eyelids pressed tighter as he listened on, wishing silently that he really could remember the past Xander’s Uncle was relating. It sounded… better than what he recalled. He’d been loved. Adored. Needed. And he’d apparently been happy, which was almost too incredible to be believed.
“It was the final test that pushed him so far,” Jareth allowed softly, “or so I believe. Do you remember, nephew?”
Xander frowned and shook his head, setting his stone-cold cup of tea on the corner of his Uncle’s desk. “What test? What are you talking about?”
The older man smiled a little bit shakily.
“I forgot. You didn’t know.” Jareth nodded slowly to himself. “You left so quickly, I didn’t have a chance to tell you.”
Dark eyes blinked for a moment, then grew wide. “That so-called choice you gave me?” Xander demanded, “That was a TEST? ‘You can have everything being a LaVelle entitles you to, but only if you get rid of the vampire’…? A fucking TEST? A test! You… bastard!”
Green eyes met angry brown unapologetically. “It’s tradition, Alexander. And I needed to know if…” Jareth sighed. “I needed to know whether you were serious about him. Yes, he was a vampire and evil. That was… well, rather to be expected, considering our family tree. And you two were at most a few steps away from Mating in the Vampiric sense.”
“Hey! Still evil, you know!” Spike inserted desperately, his eyes opening to find his bloke glaring at the truly annoying prat behind the desk. “Soul or not, still a bloody vampire, aren’t I?”
One sleek dark blond brow arched in response, though Jareth’s next words were again directed to his nephew.
“You didn’t know, Alexander, but it truly was a test. It was meant to seek and find the true depths of your emotions… your ability to feel.” He frowned again and pulled his eyes from the dark, accusing ones that had been spearing him so deeply. “It was the same test that Mathry… failed. I just never expected that you’d react so strongly!” Jareth chuckled bitterly. “You know, I told your mother she was an idiot for running off with Anthony. Told her that any children she had with him would be defective and wrong. But she was right because… there you are, Alexander, with the ability to feel things more deeply than any of us! And you did that night, too. You…”
Xander swallowed hard, his own grip on Spike’s hand tightening slightly as he relived that experience in less than a moment. “I told you to keep your company and your money… that Spike and I would be just fine without you. And that was when you said all that about… breaking up with him or making things… completed.”
Spike was frowning, his eyes flashing from Xander to his Uncle and back again so quickly that he was almost dizzy and he wanted to jump in, to ask questions about the past he didn’t know, but he had no idea of what to ask, or how, or even why. He chose to chalk it up to the soul when he stayed quiet and sipped the last of his cold, bitter tea, just listening.
Jareth nodded again, even more slowly than the last time. “I never expected you to simply pack up and leave, though. I’d thought you and William would just lay low until I reconsidered. But by the following night, you were gone.” His small smile bore not a bit of amusement when it appeared. “Jessie tried to tell me she didn’t know where you’d gone but it wasn’t at all difficult to make a few inquiries…”
It was then that his eyes finally shifted to Spike.
“I have to admit,” he added softly, sounding bemused, “I wasn’t expecting to hear that you’d gone to Africa. It didn’t seem the sort of place that would appeal to a vampire who so enjoyed life’s comforts… and you got a soul! That was just…” Jareth shook his head, still unable to find words to describe how unprecedented such an action was for a demon.
Spike growled. “ ‘s none of your business, is it, mate?” He hadn’t gotten his soul for Buffy? But that was… Well, it actually almost made sense, if he took what Xander and his Uncle were saying as truth. But he still remembered his world, and while he could tell the other blokes weren’t lying, he just couldn’t seem to…
“And you remember all this why?” he demanded. “You know Xander—and he likes ta be called ‘Xander’, by the way, not bloody ‘ALEX-xander’—but no one else does… why!”
Thin lips twitched and Jareth laughed softly. “I’m the head of a Fortune 200 company, William. Long story short? I’m warded, spelled, protected and guarded six ways to Sunday. And…” he lost his smile, slight as it had been, “And it was my son who changed things.” He looked at his nephew again. “I’m sorry, Alexander, but… it was Mathry who made the wish.”
Xander’s eyes narrowed and he gave his Uncle a brittle grin. “Speaking of Mathry, where is he? I’d love to say hello…” ‘and beat the shit out of the little fucker,” he added silently, rage flowing through him. His own cousin had done this to him? Relegated him to life as a fucking loser? Stolen his vampire’s memory of what they were to each other? Fuck it, he was going to “kill him,” he muttered.
“I’m afraid you’re too late for that, nephew,” Jareth said softly, a good bit of his earlier bitterness returning to his voice. “He wouldn’t know you now. Not even if he saw you. He doesn’t know… anybody anymore. He did it, before you ask.”
Spike’s brow furrowed and he shifted, meeting Xander’s eyes. “Didn’t, Xan! Swear! Never even met the fucker, did I? Or… this me didn’t, and…”
“No,” Jareth said quietly, his low tone somehow filling the room, “I didn’t mean you, William. I meant Mathry. He did it… to himself.” His eyes dropped to the desk in front of him and he swallowed a few times. “I was there, Alexander. He was so… jealous of you. You’d… come out of nowhere, my sister’s child! And you were taller, stronger, smarter… and then you passed the test, nephew, and…”
“And your bloody jealous spawn decided that meant he had ta take out the sodding competition. That what you’re saying, mate?” Spike growled, eyes golden again after a bare few minutes of being their more human blue. “Didn’t work out for him? Good, then. Deserved it! Not Xan’s fault he’s the better bloke, is it?”
Even if he’d been thinking about the fact that this Spike wasn’t his Spike—which he wasn’t—Xander still wouldn’t have been able to keep himself from sliding from his chair and onto the floor in front of the vampire.
He knelt there and wrapped his arms hard around the somewhat slighter form, holding the blond close and hard and tight.
“It’s okay, baby,” he murmured, hands roaming up and down the blond’s tense spine, “It’s okay… please, baby, please… calm down, okay…? It’s… we’re… fine, Spike. We’re fine…” Except they weren’t, of course, and Xander knew it just as much as Spike so obviously did. “How did… what happened?” he asked over his shoulder, afraid of letting go of the vampire in his arms… afraid of what he might see if he met Spike’s eyes.
“He wished that Jessie and you forgot all about leaving Anthony and coming here,” Jareth said softly. “He wasn’t thinking, I suppose… and when his wish was granted, you weren’t here to stop him from taking the drug. You weren’t here to keep him from going insane like his… friend… who nearly decapitated you after he took the dosage.” He frowned. “Mathry firmly believes that he took the so-called mind-opening drug. He’s being cared for to the extent that is possible.”
And even while most of him was focused on the way Xander was touching him; on those strong, warm hands finding every single tension point as though they knew his body better than even he did, himself… Spike heard those words and pulled back, snarling into wide brown eyes. “You did bloody fucking what? Almost got yourself killed? Jumped in on purpose when some bloke was going bat-shit? You bloody, fucking moron! Could have gotten yourself killed! Or worse! Vegetable-ized! Are you off your bloody nut?”
While the words and tone were harsh, Xander couldn’t help grinning, because… it actually sounded like Spike cared, and that… well, it wasn’t entirely unexpected, considering everything that had happened in the last few days, but… it was nice.
Part Nine
He’d snuck out of the rooms Xander’s Uncle had given them once he’d been sure his bloke was asleep and not likely to be waking and wandering any time soon. Not that Xander was likely to check Spike’s room even if he did wake, but better safe, he figured.
His feet moved silently down the carpeted hallway, and while he supposed he could have—maybe should have—had himself announced, he was more interested in seeing how the so-called ‘Jareth LaVelle’ reacted to his unexpected presence.
There had been something bothering him about the man since before he’d even met him, and while it had taken a good day and a half, Spike thought he might have finally figured out what it was, but there was only one way to be sure. Thus he found himself ducking into the stairwell at the end of the hall and dashing up, up, up the six floors and using the security code he’d seen Xander use the last time.
His eyes hardened, even as he stalked across the large, open space between the stairway door and the ‘Big Man’s’ office, tossing a glare and flashing a bit of fang at the spindly-looking Doris. “Might want ta go ta your ‘rest’, bint,” he snarled, his ego not at all complimented by the disdainful gaze she sent his way. “Don’t think you’re likely ta be needed any more tonight.”
“That’s hardly your call to make,” she answered smugly, standing and looking down her thin, pointed nose at him, “But I do want to go to my rest now. Go in, he’s waiting for you.”
Her smile was both proud and nasty, and Spike couldn’t quite help respecting that. “Wait,” he said quickly. “He… Jareth, I mean… remembers. Do… do you?”
Thin arched brows rose slightly and the woman nodded. “As Himself’s executive assistant, I enjoy all the same protections Himself does.”
Spike let his vampiric features recede and chuckled just a bit. “I’m guessing we’re great mates, you and me, yeah?” His chuckled grew louder when Doris simply repeated her odd smile and turned away.
“Right, then,” he muttered, moving to the door to ‘Himself’s’ office.
His hand hovered over the knob for a moment but then he shrugged and grasped it, pushing to door open firmly.
Jareth LaVelle wasn’t sitting behind his desk this time; in fact, he was standing in front of it, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest. It wasn’t a defensive position, but a waiting one. “Well. I’d expected you last night, William. Still, I suppose it’s better late than never.”
The vampire snorted, true face flashing to the fore again. “Wasn’t aware that we had an appointment, wanker. Then again, maybe ‘wanker’ ‘s not the right word for a bloody angel.”
“Part angel,” the man qualified, sounding annoyed. “Hell, William, I’m probably more human than you are. It just leaves a… taint… which you, as a vampire, can… sense.”
Xander groaned and rolled over in his sleep, hands seeking the cool, strong form of his love. It wasn’t until he’d sought repeatedly that he woke, feeling the sense of loss washing through him yet again.
Small, hot tears slid from the corners of his eyes even as he got out of the too-warm, too-empty bed and made his way out and to the door on the other side of the small living room.
One hand rose, palm resting flat against the wood, and Xander closed his eyes, imagining Spike’s pale, smooth body spread out in his usual cat-sprawl over the sheets.
He swallowed hard, wanting nothing more than to push the door open just a crack… to look—for just a moment—at the shape he knew so well, needed so badly. But he couldn’t. He knew he couldn’t. It was bad enough seeing Spike when his vampire wasn’t his anymore. Seeing him like that—probably naked and so fucking beautiful—would be more than he could stand. He’d have to touch, to feel, to… love… and that wasn’t an option. It just… wasn’t.
Brown eyes closed and Xander didn’t even notice the whimper that broke from his throat as he turned and ran back to his own room, stumbling over the edge of the rug, barking his shin on the coffee table, and nearly falling when he collided with the arm chair.
He flung himself desperately onto his lonely, tangled sheets, ending up on his back with one forearm pressed to his still-seeping eyes.
“I can’t do this,” he whispered to the still air around him. “I just can’t. He’s my Mate! Except, he… he’s not, and I…”
There was nothing he could do, no way out. Mathry had fucked him over and somehow he knew it when nobody else did, except his Uncle and Doris, and… maybe it wouldn’t be so bad if he didn’t remember, himself. Maybe… if he could forget his real life and live the life everyone believed in, it wouldn’t be so bad.
He wouldn’t be gay… or not openly, anyway… and he’d be some kind of a moron, apparently… but he wouldn’t feel so empty, would he?
He wouldn’t be lost and aching on the inside, missing his Mate, knowing he should feel him. And maybe he’d know there was something missing, but as long as he didn’t know what it was, he’d be fine. Empty, but fine. Bitter, but fine. And not lost.
His mind turned and twisted, just as his body did, and while he truly wanted his Spike, his life, he didn’t see any way he could have those things, and… and if the gang had been planning on doing some sort of spell to return him to his own dimension before, then maybe if he explained things to them they could do something to make him believe what they believed, and wouldn’t that be better? Wouldn’t that be… right and easy and so much less… painful… than living the way he was?
It was an angry decision, a desperate decision… the only decision he could make… and the only decision that let him slowly, deliberately sink back into sleep with the knowledge that it would all be over soon and he’d be… normal, as far as the world was concerned.
And if a part of him was screaming and wailing, terrified of being extinguished, well… Xander could ignore that. It wouldn’t matter, soon enough. Soon enough.
“I don’t like you,” Spike announced with a frown. “Doubt I liked you before, either. Think you’re a bloody prat, don’t I?”
Jareth smirked just a little and nodded. “You do. And no, you didn’t like me, William. Mostly because you wanted me so badly and it bothered you. You were in love with my nephew, after all. I think it offended you that you could want me so much when you were so very deeply in love with someone else.”
The thing that bothered Spike the most right in that moment was that he wasn’t surprised to hear that he’d wanted someone he hadn’t loved… and he should have been.
Even in the memories he did have, he’d loved Dru, been true for more than a century even when she hadn’t been… hell, he’d even loved Angelus in a way, although being with him had generally involved Drusilla as well, and that was vampire custom anyway. Family, so to speak, and no violation or betrayal of the love he bore his Sire. Dru had liked that he and her Sire were close that way, after all.
But he couldn’t imagine wanting someone other than whomever he was in love with; not without their encouragement and consent, not to mention participation, and… no. Xander wasn’t the sort to play incest-games, and definitely not with some Uncle he’d just met, and… “that makes no bloody sense!” he snarled. “Wouldn’t want you. Couldn’t. Not if I felt what you say I did. Pillock.” He frowned to himself and ignored the tiny voice whispering ‘Harmony’ in the back of his head. He’d been on his own then. It didn’t count.
Jareth chuckled quietly and shook his head. “For a bright guy, you can be incredibly stupid sometimes. It’s the angel blood. It makes us—meaning my family line—attractive to evil, I suppose you could say. That innate urge to corrupt, to… tarnish. Now, sit down, William. If you’re going to insist upon wasting your time—and more importantly mine—we might as well be relatively comfortable.”
“Stop calling me that,” the vampire countered, his tone just as demanding as the sort-of human’s. “Don’t use that name, do I? Just like your bloody nephew doesn’t call himself Alexander.”
The older-looking man shrugged and smirked. “True enough. But it does manage to piss you off, so I see no reason to stop… William.”
And this was getting him nowhere, Spike knew. He’d come here for answers, not a round of hiss-and-spit-and-see-who-has-the-bigger-w
“And why would I want to do that, William? Out of the sheer goodness of my heart?”
Spike snorted, glaring at the man. “Hardly. Soul knows goodness when it sees it, you know. Xander? He’s a good one. You… not so much, as Slayer would say.” He cocked his head a little, still glaring. “Think you’ll tell me whatever you think I need ta know anyway, though. Because you care for the boy, yah? Because he’s all you’ve got left, what with your own spawn making himself nuts through blatant stupidity. And I don’t remember what Xander does, but the boy loves me. Wouldn’t take but a word ta have him leaving this place forever, would it?”
Jareth frowned. “Even with a soul, you’re still a bastard.”
“Tell me something I don’t know, mate.” With that, Spike finally took the seat he’d been ordered to, but not before crossing the room and liberating a large decanter of liquor from the small bar against the wall. “And be quick about it. Xander’s likely ta be up and about soon enough. Don’t want him knowing I’m here.”
Part Ten
It was when Xander stopped walking for the fifth time in as many minutes to scratch his head yet again that Spike finally had enough.
“Look, mate,” he growled, “I’m trying here, yeah? But if you’ve someplace you’d rather be, then bloody well go! Want ta know more about how we were, I do, but you don’t seem too bloody interested!” And damn the bleeding soul for not letting him just throw the boy down and make him talk.
Xander blinked, his fingers leaving his hair. “Huh?” he muttered distractedly, his eyes gazing curiously at the slight discoloration on his fingertips, “What, baby…?”
“And what the bloody fuck is wrong with your sodding head!” Spike demanded. “Been bloody well scratching at it for days! Nothing could possibly itch for that long!” He frowned slightly. “Or nothing that wouldn’t require a dose of antibiotics to make it better, but that’s not likely ta be on your noggin of all places.”
Brown eyes blinked again and Xander shook his head sharply, clearing the increasingly common mental fog away. “Oh, I… nothing, ba… Spike. It’s just…” he shrugged sheepishly and wiped the dark grey smudges onto his pants. “Nothing. Sorry. I… I got something in my hair a while ago and I think I’m allergic ‘cause it still itches and… but we were talking, right? Uh, what was I…”
It was the closest Spike had heard to what he considered standard Xander-babble since before this whole thing began, and while it was somewhat comforting, it was also a little frightening. He’d gotten used to this new Xander—the one who loved him, wanted him, remembered him as a different being than he thought he was… and the new Xander didn’t babble… or not much, and definitely not like this.
And then Spike caught a whiff of something… odd, acrid, almost hidden by the scents of the desert and the boy, and his eyes narrowed. He knew that smell; he just didn’t know from where. Maybe from when he’d been human, but… whatever it was, something inside him was screaming that it wasn’t good.
“Spike?” Xander said again, the silence and furrowed brow entirely not like the Spike he’d known before or the one he knew now. “Spike, what’s…?”
The vampire growled softly and opened his eyes, fangs flashing unintentionally when he saw the boy’s fingers buried in that dark hair again. One hand darted out quicker than a thought and grabbed Xander’s wrist, pulling the bloke towards him. “Gonna get yourself an infection if you keep that up,” he started to say, only to lose the words, half-spoken, as that disturbing smell grew stronger and… “What’s that on your fingers?” he demanded instead.
The brunette shrugged and looked away, eyes finding the tiny sliver of moon over the night-pale sand beyond the high chain link fence. “Probably just some of that ink that’s been making me itch. I must have picked it up from one of Giles’s books but I don’t know when.” He shrugged. “It’ll go away, soon enough.”
Connections were made quickly in Spike’s mind, because while he’d perhaps never had the patience to follow through on any of his grandiose plans, he’d always been much smarter than he’d let on.
‘Ink. Books. And where was the boy when he remembered all of this? His life—his real life, not whatever his wanker of a cousin made us all believe? Researching. That’s what they said. Fell asleep as the goofy bloke we all knew and woke up knowing… this. And he’s been itching and now something’s… coming off when he scratches, and… and I know that smell! Like… brimstone and innocence lost.’
“Right,” Spike announced sharply, “Time ta go see your pissant Uncle, mate.”
Xander was still complaining, even as Spike dragged him into the building and across the lobby. He turned pleading eyes to Susie, then frowned when the girl simply ducked her head down behind the desk, pink hair shaking slightly above it as though she was crying. Or laughing, he realized when he heard the first small, muffled titter.
“Damn it, Spike! Just tell me what’s crawled up your ass!” he demanded, then groaned as the words brought several cherished memories to mind.
“Shut up,” the vampire said, almost kindly. “Got a theory, I do, but… need ta run it by the prat first,” and that was all he’d say on the subject.
“Doris,” Spike said with a nod, “Keep an eye on my boy, yeah? Don’t let him go wandering off. Need ta have a word with the Great Wanker.”
Xander blinked as Spike disappeared into his Uncle’s office, then he frowned and turned. He stalked towards the elevator, only to be stopped by the slow, low rumble he heard coming from behind him.
“You might want to have a seat, Alexander,” Doris rumbled, scraping the file in her hand over one sharp, talon-like nail. “I’m fairly sure you don’t want me to have to hunt you down and drag you back. Again.”
He turned slowly, eyes widening at the claw she was letting him see. “I’m not his, Doris. Not as far as he knows, anyway. He doesn’t get to just… tell me what to do!”
One thin brow rose and Doris moved on to the next talon, carefully honing it to a razor-like edge. “He left here. For you. He got a soul, Alexander. Also for you. He’s given up on his fantasies of having a future with that Slayer you all love so much, and that’s for you, too.” She gave him one expressionless gaze and returned to her task, still listing her observations.
“He lied to your friends on the Hellmouth, took you far enough away that they can’t do anything stupid, and he’s likely burned whatever bridges he’d managed to build. He believed you—believed in you—when no one else would even listen.”
She glanced up again, meeting wet brown eyes. “He’s thrown away whatever hope for a decent future he had in the world Mathry caused, Alexander, and all he’s asked you to do is talk to him and wait here. Do you really think that’s too much? Too big of a burden?”
His mouth moved, opening and closing a few times before Xander blushed deeply and shook his head. “I… no,” he whispered, even as he walked slowly back to the lounge area and sat down.
“Good,” Doris smiled. “Let me know if you’d like something to drink. I don’t imagine they’ll be very long, in any case.”
Brown hair shifted with Xander’s nod, but he honestly wasn’t paying any attention to the offer. He was too busy realizing that… while he’d been so caught up in what he’d lost and how he could get it back—or baring that, lose the rest of it for his own comfort—he’d never even considered how Spike’s actions would effect the vampire’s life.
From what the blond had told him, it had taken ages to get the Scooby gang to trust him even to the extent they did, and even so it wasn’t a sure thing. It hadn’t been too much of a stretch to imagine his Spike and how he’d have reacted in similar circumstances, and… if this Spike had put up with all that just to be grudgingly accepted, then… then Spike considered them to be much more than friends. Spike had to think of them all as family, or as close to it as the blond would ever have since Angel was apparently a big brooding fucker in Los Angeles and Drusilla was off doing Gods knew what.
Spike had fought that hard, for that long, just to have a place to belong… and he’d thrown it all away for a guy he didn’t remember even liking much, much less loving?
Well, yeah. He had. And without so much as a second thought, as far as Xander could tell, and he’d never even noticed! He’d been so… “selfish.”
Doris smiled again, entirely to herself this time. Good. The boy was finally figuring it out. Maybe there was hope for the world, yet.
She closed her eyes and retracted her claws, letting the more human fingernails reemerge as she focused on the maybes-to-come, a small nod of satisfaction dipping her head when she saw that the possible futures which included the First actually making a bid for dominion over the physical plane had diminished by half.
If the boys kept this up, those futures might disappear altogether, and demon or not, nobody would ever find Doris crying over that. She liked this plane, after all… enough that she hadn’t even wanted to leave when Mathry had made his biggest mistake of many.
Spike was right, after all. Her son was relatively stupid… but it was his selfishness that had truly been his undoing. Still, it didn’t look as though Alexander was cut of the same cloth, and that was good. Without a LaVelle at the helm of LaVelle Enterprises, more than just the company and its many subsidiaries would be doomed.
It was a consoling thought, and one Doris was quite happy to dwell upon.
Jareth wasn’t entirely sure of what he’d been expecting when the vampire had stalked into his office, although he could say with a fair degree of certainty that it hadn’t been for the blond to basically hold up one grey-smeared finger and announce ‘I’ve solved the case’… in much more graphic and epithet-laden terms, of course.
That the solution of sorts came down to a smell was something else he hadn’t thought of. In fact, he wasn’t entirely sure he believed it enough to actually sniff the finger the vampire was forcing under his nose. For all he knew, this could be some strange joke the blond was playing. It wouldn’t be the first time, after all.
But then again, it would. This version of the vampire had no recollection of getting his jollies by trying to make Jareth eat, drink, touch—or whatever—various things that nobody had any business getting close to. Not anybody mostly human, anyway.
It took a good few seconds of steeling himself to whatever might happen before Jareth finally forced himself to breathe through his nose, but when he did his eyes narrowed and he gripped the blond’s wrist tightly, taking another, deeper whiff. “It’s the same,” he murmured after exhaling. “William, it’s the same!”
Spike glared at the name but nodded slightly. “ ‘s familiar, prat. I’ll give you that. But I can’t bloody place it!”
The man nodded, too. “I can. But first I need to know… William, where did that come from?”
“My boy’s hair.” Gold-tinged eyes faded to their more normal blue, even as Spike perched on the edge of Jareth’s desk. “Been scratching at it mighty fierce, he has. Finally though ta ask why.” He didn’t mention that he’d been yelling and impatient at the time, of course. “Xan says he got some kinda ink or something on him; he thought he was allergic, yeah? But… figure it’s more than that. All those bloody dusty old books Ripper’s got? Would have known he was sensitive ta the ink long before now, right?”
Jareth’s brows rose. “You actually made a point, William. I’m so proud.”
“Bugger off, you sodding pillock. Don’t have time ta take the piss with you, now do I? Would have smelled it before if it’d been coming off, right? Got a good sense of smell, I do. But I didn’t, and that means something’s changed. And… and Xander, he… bloody hell, he babbled at me! Like I remember him doing!”
A shrug. “That’s hardly unusual, William. My nephew has been prone to fits of… excessive speech in the past.”
Spike growled, true-face emerging completely as he leaned over the desk, face a mere inch or two from the bastard’s. “You’re not getting it, mate. Babbled like I remember him doing! Like… like the whelp-that-was!”
It still took Jareth a moment to figure out what had the vampire so intent, but when he did, he blanched. “Whatever it was that made him remember…” he whispered, eyes closing…
“It’s going away.” Spike finished for him. “Now you need ta tell me where you know this bloody fucking smell from!” he demanded, thrusting his smeared finger under the wanker’s nose again. “Before I get Doris in here and tell her what a fucking prat you’re being!”
The darker blond stood and pushed away from the desk and the irate vampire. “Halfrek,” he announced. “The so-called ‘justice demon’ Mathry called up for his… revenge. That’s her scent, or at least the one she exudes when she’s on official business.”
And just like that, Spike remembered the demon. Anyanka’s friend, Dawn’s ‘guidance councilor’… Cecily.
“Oh… bloody hell!”
