Betaed by Skippyscatt and kittypoker1

---

Xander dumped his stuff in the bed of his truck and climbed in. He didn’t insult Spike by offering to help him, he just waited until Spike levered himself into the passenger’s seat. As Spike settled in, Xander drove away.

Spike sighed, “Ok, pet. What the hell was that? Not that I’m complainin’, mind. But . . . inventive . . . I’m not even sure where to start.”

Xander shrugged, paying more attention to driving than speaking for once. “I’m ruthless when I have to be. I do what I need to. Learned that from dear ol’ daddy. They’re not dead . . . yet. I didn’t kill them. So what’s the prob?”

Spike eyed Xander, wondering how he’d managed to miss the hard, cold, steely core of the man. “No prob here. I just was surprised. And now I’m wonderin’ why. So, I could use a nap. That soddin’ chip is gonna kill me yet.”

“Yeah? And what was that about? You got at least six shocks from that thing because you wouldn’t lay down. Never learn, do you?”

Spike raised his head and glared at Xander. “You don’t get it, do you?” Xander shook his head. “You’re mine. I take care of what’s mine, or at least I try to. That soddin’ bloody be-damned chip keeps me from it. I can’t protect you from the weakest of attackers. Bloglut demons, Fyarl, Nix’coth, I’m good. Great even, but soddin’ humans and I’m helpless.” Spike taught Xander a few British curses and shut up.

Xander drove, thin lipped and grim.

---

Xander pulled into the garage and parked. He tossed the keys on the floor, let Arnold pick them up and put the truck away.

Spike followed Xander into the mansion, groaning softly. The Tylenol hadn’t done much good for his aching head and Xander’s unaccustomed silence was wearing on his nerves.

“Ok, pet. What’s got you in such a lather?”

Xander turned to Spike and looked him over like he was searching for something. Spike just raised a weary eyebrow and waited.

“You . . . if I . . . damn . . . Spike?” Spike waited a second while Xander tried to organize his thoughts.

“Just spit it out, before it chokes you.”

“Ok. If I do what you want . . . if I let you put me on some sort of display . . . no one touches me but you . . . and maybe Timmins. And you never make fun of me. Ever. Or throw it in my face.”

Spike gave Xander a level look. “If you do what I want, I’ll never throw it in your face. And no one touches what is mine unless I give them express permission. Timmins has it. And, you’ll notice that I’m being very generous here, you get to pick the harness. How’s that?”

Xander just nodded. “Ok. I won’t let you down if you don’t let me down. Come on. You need to feed and I have to do some research. Move it.”

Spike sighed again and followed Xander to his quarters where Xander helped him get undressed then undressed himself. Spike was shocked when Xander crawled into the bed with him, but he kept his smart mouth under iron control. He knew better than to say anything at all.

Xander groaned. “I should be doing that research but all of a sudden I’m shaking all over.”

Spike put his arms around Xander. “I don’t need to feed just yet. Why don’t we just lay here for a mo’? Kinda cuddle down and recover.”

“Sounds good. But then I get up and be research boy. Got it?”

Spike rubbed Xander’s arm for a moment. “Sure thing, pet. Just . . . I could do with a few z’s myself.”

—

Spike waited for a little while. He knew something was going to happen, he just wasn’t sure what. As he suspected, Xander started to shake about five minutes later, his adrenalin high fading and leaving him shaky.

“Ok, pet? You don’t regret what you did? I think it was beautiful. Thank you.”

Xander mumbled. “You’re . . . I saw . . . it made me so mad. Why’d you do that?”

“Do what, pet?” Spike stroked Xander’s shoulders and back, rubbing his hands up and down, hoping to generate some heat.

“I saw. You were down with a chip zap, but you kept trying to get up and getting zapped again and again. Why?”

Spike snarled deep in his chest. “You’re mine. They were trying to hurt you. It’s my duty and privilege to protect you.” Spike took one hand from Xander’s body and pulled viciously at his own hair. “Stupid, soddin’ chip. Fuckin’ piece of bloody military plastic. I can’t even do what a fledge can.” Spike pressed his face into the curve between Xander’s neck and his shoulder. “But I thought, if I could just get in one good . . . something. I could at least help a bit. Fuckin’ fangless loser. You’re right to call me Willy Wanna-bite.”

Xander, with a clear vision of Spike grimly crawling towards one of his attackers while the chip sent him into convulsion after convulsion dancing in his head, pulled Spike’s hand out of his hair and held it.

“Not either. And, need I say, I’m really sorry. No one ever did anything like that for me before. Even if it didn’t hurt them like hell. I’m not a nice person. I’m . . . Cordelia said I was one of the most ruthless people she’d ever met, including her dad. I want what’s right and good, and I don’t care what I have to do to protect people who can’t protect themselves. I should have included you in that mission.”

Spike was rendered speechless, something that didn’t happen often. Xander, the white knight, apologizing and including him on his list of people to be protected?

“Well, call me gobsmacked. Pet, I’m capable of taking care of myself. Unless they’re human.”

“Yeah, and all some idiot has to do is figure that out and we’re all fucked.” Xander sighed and settled against Spike. “I’m so tired. Why’m I tired? I didn’t do all that much. Go to sleep now.”

Xander drifted off with Spike still petting him. He didn’t seem to notice that they were both only wearing boxers and Spike wasn’t about to wake him and tell him.

---

Xander woke to someone blowing in his ear. He slapped at whoever it was and the sat up in the bed.

“Spike! Damn it! I was having a nice dream and you woke me up.”

“What were you dreaming about?”

Xander made a disappointed face then shrugged. “I don’t remember.” He sighed. “I never remember the good ones, only that I was having one.”

“That’s too bad, pet. Come on, get up.”

Xander’s stomach announced its interest in getting up. Xander blushed and crawled out of the bed.

Suddenly he clenched his hands in front of himself and started sidling toward the bathroom.

Spike got a good look at the outline of what he was trying to hide. “Don’t bother. I checked you out good a long time ago.”

Xander spluttered indignantly. Spike gave him his best innocent face. “Wot? ‘M an evil, undead, blood sucking fiend. A little peeping tomery is nothin’. Come on. Brekkers in ten.”

Xander managed to get into the bathroom and take care of his business without dying of embarrassment.

Spike went into the kitchen and told Timmins to make Xander some juice. Timmins poured the juice and turned to see Spike bite into the ball of his thumb, like he’d done every day since Xander had come to live with them. Neither one of them noticed Xander standing in the door in nothing but his jeans.

Spike froze, eyeing Xander, waiting for the explosion. Timmins prepared for twin temper tantrums. Neither vampire expected what did happen.

Xander sauntered over to Timmins and took his glass of juice.

“How long has this been going on and why? And can I just say, sneaky much?”

Spike relaxed; if Xander was descending into Snoopy speak, he wasn’t too pissed off. “Since you came here, pet. Makes you strong, helps you heal . . . makes you smell like mine. So . . . pissed?”

Xander sipped at his juice. “No, not really.” Xander noticed that Spike was still bleeding as he’d forgotten to lick his thumb healed. He reached out and took Spike’s hand in his. Giving Spike a sparkling look, Xander licked the blood off. “No sense in wasting it, is there?”

Xander licked once then sucked Spike’s thumb into his mouth and suckled it. Spike nearly fell to his knees. This was sudden.

“What are you doin’? Tryin’ ta drive me out of my mind?”

Xander gave Spike a long, slow, sultry look. Spike nearly bent him over the kitchen table right then and there.

“No. But you and I both know that you’re going to have me sooner or later. I’d rather not tear and bleed. Been there, done that. Didn’t like it. I’m not a vampire.”

Spike clenched his teeth and bit back a snarl. “I’m not gonna ask. I already know. . . .Pet? I’m not gonna hurt you like that. I don’t like rape. That was always the poof’s kink. A little BDSM, or D/s, that’s more the ticket.”

Xander smiled at Spike. “I want a contract with safe words.”

Spike opened his mouth, closed it, swallowed and tried again. “Contract . . . safe words. Where the hell did you learn about all this. And what the hell is going on?”

Xander shrugged. “Oxnard. The Fabulous Ladies Night Club. There weren’t any ladies there. Never ask again.” Xander gave a dramatic shudder. “As to what’s up, I had a thing. Woke up and had it. Like an orgasm only not and I didn’t say that either. Only one of those penny things. Like a lightning bolt in my head only it didn’t hurt. And I made up my mind and I’m not backing down and you can’t make me so don’t try so can I go now. I’ve got research to do and I want to do it before I chicken out and if you let me make a fool of myself I’ll stake you and then stake your dust and spit on it and I’m going now.” Xander took a deep breath and scurried out

Spike stood looking at the open door with a baffled look on his face. A ‘penny’ thing like a lightning bolt? What was Xander babbling about?

“I think he meant an epiphany.” Timmins looked after Xander. “Does he do that a lot? Talk like that, I mean?”

Spike pulled out a cigarette and lit it. Blowing out smoke as he talked, he announced in disgust, “Yeah, he does. Not much around here, but he took lessons from the mistress of the babble fest. Sometimes referred to as Willow-speak. Now . . . I’m going to my office to try to figure out what he was on about. If that . . . garden . . . what the hell was his name? Anyway, if he shows up send him to me.”

Timmins searched his memory, but couldn’t come up with the name either. “I will.” He looked around. Xander had taken his juice with him, but he hadn’t eaten a thing. “You should go feed. You look a little peaked. I’ll just make up a tray for the young master.”

Spike sighed. “Yeah, you do that. I do think I’ll go feed. I’m feelin’ a little peckish.”

---

Spike worried at the apparently abrupt about face until his head ached. He decided that he wasn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth. He was just going to ride the wave of Xander’s turnabout and enjoy.

A soft tap at the door alerted Spike to a visitor.

He didn’t recognize the vampire who poked his head in the door but before he could snarl at him, he scurried in and knelt at the side of the desk.

“Most honored High Master. My superior has sent me to tell you the garden is ready for your approval. We hope you find it acceptable.”

Spike nodded his head. “I’m sure I will. That bloke from Kew seemed to know what he was doing.”

The vampire cleared his throat. “I’m sorry, Master. He . . . didn’t come back from feeding two weeks ago. I’ve been taking over the construction. I humbly beg your pardon if that is unacceptable. I did read all the notes and followed them exactly. I added a bit of my own ideas, but if you don’t like them they are easily changed.”

Spike sighed. He’d liked the gardener, even if he couldn’t remember his name. “I’ll take a look. What’s your training? And your name.”

“It’s Narma, Master. I was trained in Egypt . . . about seven hundred years ago.”

Spike nodded. “I see. Gardener? Or herbalist?”

Narma smiled hesitantly. “Both. I do enjoy this so much, Master. The lights don’t burn me, so it’s almost like being in the sun again. I do miss it.”

Spike snarled softly, causing the vampire to cringe. “Stop that. I’m not mad at you. I’m just . . . annoyed in general. Now . . . show me the garden.”

Narma led Spike into a large warehouse sized room half filled with planters and hung with an overhead lighting and watering system.

Spike looked around. This was the result of his quick watercolor of what he’d thought of as Granny’s Garden.

Starting in the front center of the room there was a fountain. Then several wedge-shaped planters about six inches high, giving the illusion of garden beds. He eyed the depth for a moment.

“Those don’t look deep enough. Lavender is a large plant. How’s that work?”

Narma smiled happily. “This is a false floor. The beds are almost three feet deep. We built them then built up the floor. Master Xander actually almost caught us. I’m sure he’ll rebuild all of it. It’s not that well done. We’re all gardeners or, as Master Timmins calls them, grunts. We also ran pipes for the fountains and other water features under there.”

Spike quirked one eye brow and wondered how sturdy the flooring was. He continued his inspection with interest. The beds were about three feet apart which made the intersections fairly large. They were decorated with urns full of cascading plants, statuary, or small fountains. As Spike walked deeper into the vast room he realized with pleasure that Narma, or someone, had expanded on the small herb garden and turned the front half of the room into several smaller garden ‘rooms’ by placing lines of small potted trees, potted roses and long planters to divide the large space. One room was filled completely with potted rose plants of all sizes and colors. Another was Japanese style. There was also a water garden with a large koi pond filled with lilies as well as other water plants and fish.

“I’m pleased. You took that simple little garden and turned it into something special. I’m sure Xander will love it. Using his grandmother’s small herbal garden as the gateway was brilliant. Good work.”

Spike was pleased as well and smiled kindly at Narma. He was remembering things his father had told him when he was small, more than a hundred years ago. Things like, ’praise is cheap, anger expensive’ ‘butter makes things run smoothly’ and ‘pinch pennies, lose good will.’ He remembered all the times he’d tried so hard to please Angelus and the anger when he got nothing but a kick or a flogging for his trouble. He was determined that his reign would be different; besides, he didn’t feel like all that fighting. It was exhausting. Fighting for the joy of it was one thing, fighting because everyone wanted what he had was a ‘right pain in me arse’.

“This looks very good. I’m sure that Xander will like it. I’m going to get him now. Call everyone to assemble; he’ll want to thank you.”

---

Xander opened his laptop and searched for the file. It didn’t take him long to find it. It was the only one with a string of numbers in the file name. He immediately started reading.

The first part of it was mostly schematics that didn’t mean a thing to Xander. But he grimly continued on deeper into the convoluted military jargon. He was actually glad that his ‘stint’ as a mock soldier that Halloween had stuck as much as it had. He could actually understand most of the text.

He started searching the internet. Google wasn’t much help at first. He had to refine his search quite a bit. Wikipedia was more help, at least it had some decent information on the effects of electromagnetic fields on computers. Xander closed most of the threads he had open and carefully studied the four he still needed. ‘Who said I’m stupid? I can too do this,’ he wondered.

When Timmins came to stand in the doorway, Xander barely acknowledged him. He just glanced at him and begged. “Timmins, pull me a Milky Way, will you? I need the caffeine. Make it a triple.”

Timmins blinked,; Xander wasn’t usually so short with him. “Young Master, are you sure? All that sugar and caffeine isn’t good for you. Master Spike was specific. . .”

Xander glanced up at Timmins, making Timmins sigh. He recognized that particular mulish expression. “See . . . resolve face. What I’m going to do for Spike, not to mention the world, gets me all the caffeine and sugar I can abuse my system with. Coffee . . . now . . . please.” Timmins turned to go but Xander’s next words made him turn back. “And I got your journal translated. I had one of the women in the . . . um . . . stable, she’s a secretary, type up the translation directly from the shorthand. See if it’s ok to get her a workstation or something. It’d be a real help to me if she could do the transcriptions. It gives me a raging headache. Ok?”

Timmins smiled at Xander. “Of course, sir. I’ll be happy to get her a station. I’ll see if I can’t get her a small office down in the stables . . . well, I’ll leave you a note to build it. I think it would be good if you built several small offices somewhere down there. There are several people in the stables who have skills we could use.”

Xander dragged his attention away from his work long enough to think about that. “And I bet there are a bunch of vamps who have skills we could use. I’ll look into finding them some office space too.” Xander gave Timmins his best begging puppy eyes. “Coffee? Please?”

Timmins threw up his hands and went to get Xander his coffee.

---

Xander finished his coffee and his research at the same time. He was sure exactly what he had to do. He just wasn’t sure he liked it. The journal the Master had written made it plain that the old scroll told the true story of what a vampiric court was supposed to be like. Xander decided that Ol’ Batface, as he called the late head of the Aurelian line, was not only a pervert but an excessively brutal one. He wasn’t sure how he was going to use his information but he wasn’t going to put up with being treated the way the old master treated his human pets. He wasn’t a pet, he was a thrall. He decided to do research on thrallness, or was it –dom, but soon gave up.

“My brain hurts. Damn, I want more coffee. Timmins!”

Xander’s shout was greeted by Spike ambling into the room.

Spike took one look at Xander’s face and announced in no uncertain terms, “No more coffee for you, pet. You’re bouncing off the walls as it is. I’ve got something nice for you. Come see it. Work off some of those caffeine nerves.”

Xander clenched his hands into fists so they wouldn’t shake. He realized that he had really had more coffee than he should have, especially on an empty stomach.

“Ok, but I better eat something too. I’m all . . . nervy. And, while I’m at it, I got that translation done. I’ve got a copy of the scroll and Ol’ Batface’s journal too. You want?”

Spike didn’t take a second to realize who ‘Ol’ Batface’ had to be. “You’ve got one of Heinrich’s journals? Yes, I want. ‘E nearly ruined Angel. Did ruin Darla. What’s in it?”

Xander picked a piece of paper up and eyed it for a moment. “A bunch of ranting about a lover who betrayed him and what he’s going to do to all his human pets to get even for it. And the . . .” Xander made air quotes. “New rules for his court. Seems he wanted someone else’s human lover and wasn’t too particular how he got her. He even refers to the Babylonian scroll here. You should read both of them.”

Timmins cleared his throat from where he was standing in the hall. “You bellowed, sir?”

Xander grinned at Timmins. “Yeah, but Spike says no more coffee. I have a list of stuff I need. Will you get it for me? No big rush.”

Timmins took the paper from Xander and eyed it for a moment, started to say something then just nodded. “Yes, sir. I’ll get it as soon as I can.”

Spike just grabbed Xander and hauled him out the door, impatient as usual.

“Come on, pet. I got something special to show ya.”

Xander allowed Spike to pull him along, wondering what had ‘Mr. Hyper-vamp’ so excited.

---

Xander waited as Spike insisted on blindfolding him before leading him into his surprise. Spike said that it was an exercise in trust, Xander thought it was just that Spike wanted to see his face when he saw whatever it was. They were both right.

Spike carefully led Xander into the large conservatory, making sure that he didn’t trip on anything. He positioned Xander in front of the gate to the Granny Garden. When he pulled off the blindfold, Xander blinked once or twice then yelped, “Grammy’s garden! Oh, man. Thanks, this is great. How’d you do it?”

Spike puffed out his chest and smirked. “I snuck into your house and painted the layout. Had a crew working on this all this time, and they went a little crazy. I hope you like the rest. This is just the entrance.”

Xander wandered through the small garden, touching plants and examining the wooden pathway. It was decent, made of precut lumber bolted and screwed together. He could do better but he was very pleased with what he had.

When Xander went through the gate at the back of the Granny Garden, he nearly dropped to his knees. He could see a bit of the garden from where he stood, but the artfully arranged lines of potted plants baffled his eye. He wandered into the garden, looking and smelling and touching. His expression of wonder and delight made Spike swell with pride. None of the Scoobies had ever made Xander look like that. Mostly they had made him look sad.

Xander delighted in the herb garden; he smelled each bush in the rose garden and nearly squealed in delight at the oriental garden with its koi pond, although he would deny that to his dying breath. He was especially thrilled with the smooth transfer from the oriental garden to the orchardarium. As he walked around the koi pond, the gradual shift from oriental to tropical was exquisite. He was in love and said so.

Spike was smiling in a way Xander had never seen before. He wasn’t smirking or gloating, just smiling. “You like it, pet? There’s a balcony sort of thing over there. It’s a walkway into an unused level, but if you stand on the landing you can see the whole garden.”

Xander practically dragged Spike towards the stairs. Spike let him as he knew that all the workers responsible for the garden were waiting there for him.

---

Xander stopped when he saw the uneasily shifting line of vampires and demons. He turned to Spike with a puzzled look on his face.

“They’re all the people who worked on the gardens. They want to meet you. Just smile, shake hands down the line and say thank you.”

Xander turned a terrified look on Spike. “Do . . . what? And . . . who, me? I don’t do so good with the speech making. What do I say?”

Spike watched in amusement as Xander fell apart. “Just shake hands with everyone who offers. When you get to the end of the line, the steps will be right there. Go up one or two then just say something nice. Like, say, ‘I really like the gardens, thank you all.’ Then go on up to the landing.”

Xander gulped and nodded. “Oh, ok. I can do that.”

Xander managed to shake hands and make his little speech without shaming himself; he even managed a few words with most of the vampires and demons. They were pleased with his compliments. He was pleased with his gardens.

Spike let Xander pull him up the stairs to the landing. Xander spent the next few minutes pointing out all the features that he liked the best. It seemed that he liked the oriental garden, especially the koi pond. And he rhapsodized over the herb garden. The English Cottage garden fascinated him and the formal rose garden with its neatly trimmed boxwood borders brought a smile to his face. The stream that flowed from the koi pond led into a small bog garden then a waterfall and on into a catch basin to be recirculated. Xander had a million questions that Spike couldn’t answer.

“Don’t know. I’ll send for Narma if you’re really interested.”

Xander turned and hugged Spike, surprising the hell out of him. “Don’t worry about it. I’ll get with him later and ask my questions. I have some ideas that I’d like to discuss with him . . . there’s plenty of room in here that you haven’t used yet. Can I have it?”

Spike smiled over Xander’s shoulder as he hugged him back. “Sure, pet. Got plenty of room here. Do what you want. Don’t forget that you have a workout with Master Chen tomorrow morning, but after that you can send for Narma.”

Xander let go of Spike. “Um . . . sorry. But . . . no one has ever done anything this nice for me before. And you say you’re the evil undead. Big put-on, if you ask me.”

Spike acted indignant, saying, “Oi, evil, undead, blood sucking fiend. Ya said so yourself.” But his smile belied his words. “Come on, I want those translations you promised. And I’ve got to make arrangements for your appearance at court. No argy-bargy about it.”

Xander just bowed his head. “Ok. Just tell me when I need to be ready.”

Spike was so caught up with the thought of Xander’s delight in the gardens, as well as his interest in the translations, that he never thought about Xander’s uncharacteristic reply.

---

Xander smirked, a good imitation of Spike’s trademark expression. He was going to make his mark at court. He wasn’t going to wait for Spike to pick out an outfit for him to wear because he knew what Spike would pick: Some god awful conglomeration of stuff, anything that caught his magpie attention. Xander intended to put forward an image, something he could live with.

He went to Extreme Restraints and started ordering, on Spike’s credit card. There was no way he was paying for this shit himself. That thought reminded him that he needed to make sure Spike got his last paycheck for him. His next one would be coming from a different account and he was arranging for electronic deposit.

When he was finished, he settled back in his chair and wondered how he was going to get himself into the harness he’d ordered. Then he remembered that Spike had told Timmins that he was to be his valet. He called Timmins and told him what he needed. Timmins just nodded his head and said, “Of course, I will serve in any way I can. I’m sure Master Spike will be very surprised.”

Xander hoped so. He also hoped that Spike didn’t fall down laughing.

---

Spike settled down at his desk and eyed the pile of translation with a jaundiced eye. He wasn’t all that fond of reading anymore. When he had been human, he’d needed spectacles to see print. He was far sighted, an advantage now that he was a vampire. He sighed, resigned himself to having a headache and started reading.

Spike managed to get through most of Heinrich’s journal before he had to stop. His head was throbbing like a drum and all he wanted to do was kill something or someone. The first fledge or minion that got on his wrong side was dead.

Xander stuck his head in the door just then, “Spike, you wanna . . . Hey! You don’t look so good. What’s the matter?” Xander walked in and headed straight for Spike.

Spike rubbed irritably at his forehead and forced himself not to snark at Xander. “Head aches. I was reading that translation. Some of the grammar is off, but it’s really good. I looked at the journal. It looks like it might be German but it’s not.”

Xander positioned himself behind Spike and put one hand on his neck. “Whoa, big fella. Lot of tension in there. Let me . . .” Xander dug his thumbs into the tense muscles in the back of Spike’s neck. “That journal was written in German. But Ol’ Batface used a substitution code that gave me fits. He substituted y for a and moved the value of consonants three letters down.” Spike moaned softly, Xander had found the knots and was working them out. “And you have no idea what I’m saying, do you?”

“No, pet, I don’t. I’ll give you about a year to quit that.”

Xander laughed lightly. “I learned from that vamp you send to give me a massage when you can’t do it. By the by, have I ever truly thanked you for those massages? Really help. I never thought you’d bother with something like that. I like it. As to the other, moving the value only means that he substituted, like, m for j and like that. See?”

Spike did see and realized that he’d never have figured it out. “Yeah, I do. How the hell did you work that out?”

“Used a code cracker program. Old CIA stuff I remembered from The Soldier. Weirdness that is my life. So, anyway, after that it was simple to just do the substitutions. I got a real headache, though. The letters kept crawling around on me and gave me fits. As to fits, why the hell don’t you wear glasses if you need them? This is bad. Your neck is all tight and you’re squinting like crazy.”

Spike started to say that he didn’t need glasses, but Xander interrupted him. “Don’t be stupid. You’re not Angelus’ Childe anymore. You’re a Master in your own right. If anyone laughs, gut ‘em. That’ll shut the rest up quick.”

Spike sighed as Xander loosened a particularly tight knot. “You’re right, pet. I’ll see about spectacles tomorrow. If anyone has the nerve to so much as look at me funny, they’re toast. More right there. Yeah . . . As soon as you’re done here, head for the bath. We both need one, then I’ll return the favor.”

Xander sighed too. His evening massage from Spike was something he looked forward to. Sometimes it was the only bright spot in his day. He missed the other Scoobies desperately but he was determined that he wasn’t going to call them. If they wanted him, they could call. It still hurt that no one seemed to miss him. He gave Spike’s shoulders one final squeeze and left.

Spike looked after him and grumbled. He could smell the grief and had a good idea where it had come from. He decided to give Giles a call after he called the optometrist.

---

Giles answered the phone with an irritated, “Giles here.”

Spike grabbed his temper with both hands. “Watcher. You ever decide if you’re going to call Xander? He’s waiting, you know.”

Giles put his book down with a decided thump. “I was waiting for you to give him permission. I don’t want to cause him to be punished. If he wants to call, I’d like that.”

Spike nodded to himself. “That’s good. He misses you; why, I couldn’t say. What about the bints? They waiting for a message from on high, or what?”

Giles made a small sound in his throat. “I don’t know. I took off the protection spell that went along with the thrall spell as best I could. I’d have thought that they would at least have gotten hold of you to see if you’d let them talk to him.”

“Nope, not a jingle. Not a thing. And Willow is supposed to be Xander’s bestest bud in all the world.” Spike’s sarcasm made Giles wince. “And you’d think the Slayer would look out for her White Knight. Tell them to call Xander. I’ll tell Timmins to put them through.” Spike hung up sharply, the loud click making Giles wince.

After Spike hung up, Giles thought for several moments before he called Buffy to ask her if she’d called Xander and been refused. She mumbled around for a few moments then admitted that she’d been too busy to call him. Her excuse was that she’d been studying and slaying so she’d lost track of time. Giles hung up without saying anything.

Willow babbled and fussed, justifying herself with much the same excuses that Buffy had made. She was busy, witch stuff, Tara stuff, class stuff, just too much stuff.

Tara didn’t speak to Giles but she made a vow to call Xander as soon as she could. Willow felt so guilty about the mess she’d caused that Tara was sure she wouldn’t call Xander first. She was really waiting for Xander to call her to tell her that she was forgiven. Tara didn’t think Xander was going to call and told Willow so. Willow poo-poo’ed that, saying that Xander always called first when they had a fight and, besides, she had Wicca tonight. Tara sighed and worried.

Giles sighed and tapped his fingers on the phone. He jumped a foot when it rang.

“Giles.” By now he was decidedly snappish.

“Rupert Giles? Yes. Traver’s personal secretary here, Henderson. I’ve called to tell you that there’s a new Master of the Hellmouth. You need to make contact with him as soon as possible. We need to be on his good side. Do not let your slayer anywhere near him. The oracles say he’s going to be the only one between us and disaster. We’re not sure what disaster exactly yet. Good-bye.”

Giles didn’t even get in a word. He already knew about the new master, he even knew it was Spike. He wished the Council would get their shit together. He winced at the expression and realized he’d been spending too much time with Buffy.

“Bloody hell. I need a drink. I need two. I’m talking to myself.”

---

Spike left his office and went in search of Xander. He wasn’t in his bedroom or bathroom. Spike worried a bit; he couldn’t figure out where Xander could be until he remembered the new garden.

He found Xander in the Granny Garden on the bench at one side. He was smelling a small sprig of rosemary.

Spike walked over and sat down beside Xander. “Wot ya rememberin’ pet?”

Xander smiled sadly. “Just things. Change the subject. . . I like the garden, thanks again. I was looking at the unfinished areas. I can put in a gazebo, if you don’t mind. And some more stream.”

Spike shrugged. “Don’t much care what you do. If you finish the stables, I’ll be happy . . . you have any idea when, if ever, you’ll be returnin’ to work?”

Xander stuck the rosemary in his mouth and mumbled around it. “Don’t know. Trial . . . then . . . who knows? Depends on so many different things. And . . . well . . . never mind. I’m going to work on the stables tomorrow and every day after that until they’re done. Then I’m going to plan some alterations or additions to the gardens. I’ve got stuff to do. I’m going to work out with Master Bruce some more. I want to get better. And I’ve got a special project.”

Spike’s ears perked up at that. “Special project? Tell.”

Xander grinned. “Nope, nuh-uh, not a chance. If it works, I’ll tell you all about it. Ok? Please?”

Spike couldn’t deny Xander when he used that tone of voice and that special expression. “Bloody hell, who’s the master here?” Xander stuck his lip out more. “All right, all right. But you owe me.”

Xander just nodded and got up. “Come on. I’m tired and so are you. Bed.”

Spike got up to follow Xander.He concealed his surprise when Xander reached out and took his hand and squeezed it gently. “Ok, pet, bed.”

---

Xander took a shower and rummaged in his chest of drawers for the flannel shirt that had been Jesse’s. He loved that shirt, threadbare though it was. When he couldn’t find it, he went in search of Timmins. The last he remembered he’d put it in the wash.

“Timmins, that old flannel shirt. Where is it? I want it.”

Timmins looked up from his newspaper. “I’m sorry, sir. Which shirt?” Xander described it. “Oh, that one. It was so worn out it was nothing but rags. I tossed it. I’ll . . . sir? What’s wrong?”

Xander couldn’t help the tears that sprang to his eyes. That shirt had been all the clothing he’d had left of his childhood friend, left in his room at home the day before Jesse had been vamped then dusted.

“Nothing. Never mind. It’s . . . it was sentimental. I’ll be alright. I . . .” Xander whirled around and hurried out, not wanting Timmins to see his tears.

Timmins grimaced; this was bad. Master Spike was going to have a fit. He’d made it plain that he didn’t want Xander wearing ragged clothing, but he’d also been explicit as to what would happen to anyone who upset Xander. He followed the boy.

Xander headed for his rooms again. All he wanted to do was curl up and mourn. That shirt, in and of itself, wasn’t that much, but it had been almost all he had left of his friend. He felt its loss a great deal. He didn’t realize he was walking past Spike until he felt arms around him.

“Here now, pet. Wot’s this? Tears? Wot’s wrong and who do I kill?” Spike enveloped Xander in a gentle but inescapable hug.

Xander just bent his head and rested his cheek on Spike’s shoulder. “My shirt. Timmins threw it out . . . it’s old and ragged but it was about all I had left of Jesse. Gone. Just like him.” Xander knew he sounded like a girl but he didn’t much care.

Spike knew who Jesse was and all about him. Willow had a habit of telling things she shouldn’t when she was nervous and Spike could winkle anything out of her by going into game face.

“There now, pet. When was it tossed?”

Spike spared a glare for Timmins who replied, “This morning. I’m not sure. . .”

Spike jerked his head. “The dumpster won’t be picked up until tomorrow. Take all the fledges and minions you need and find it. Hand wash it and mend it. Now.”

Timmins hurried out as Spike turned to Xander. He didn’t bother with trying to lead Xander, he just picked him up and took him to bed. His bed. Xander didn’t struggle, he just cuddled into Spike’s arms and tried to get himself together again.

“I’m sorry. I’m not usually such a girl. But . . . and Buffy . . . and Willow. I’m just not . . . sorry.” Xander couldn’t manage a complete sentence.

Spike lowered Xander to his bed and climbed in with him. He pulled Xander half onto his torso and put his arms around him again. “Hush, pet. I’ll find it myself if I have to. I’m sorry, I told Timmins to throw out ragged stuff. I never thought about you having anything of sentimental value. I’m sorry. Hush now.”

Xander gave a shuddering sigh. “I know you’ll fix it. I do. Thanks . . . I’m . . . tired.” Xander raised his head for a moment. “And why am I in your bed . . . nice bed.” Xander lowered his head again, too emotionally drained to figure anything out. “Sleep now.” Spike cuddled Xander as he fell asleep.

An hour later Timmins entered the room. “I found it. It’s still in good shape. I’ll wash it and darn it. There’s not much I can do about the elbows except patch them with some plain color flannel but it should keep it in better shape. He really shouldn’t wear it much more or it’ll fall apart completely. I’m so sorry. I’ll wait for you in the punishment room, shall I?”

Spike could tell that Timmins was truly sorry and very upset so he shook his head. “No. If you’d done it on purpose, I’d skin you with a rusty file. But I know you care for the boy almost as much as I do. Take yourself off and fix that shirt. See if you can’t find him one like it. Maybe he will want to put that one up. Go on, get out.”

Timmins nodded to Spike, murmuring, “Thank you, master.” and left.

Spike lay back to fall asleep himself.

---

The next morning was a revelation to Xander.

“Wakey, wakey, pet. Come on. Eyes wide open.” Spike gently shook Xander. He knew there was a chance that the Scooby might wake up and have a fit. He hoped not, as there was no way he was letting the man go back to sleeping apart from him.

Xander woke slowly, enjoying the feeling of being held. He had known this was going to happen for some time now but he hadn’t realized that he was really waiting for an invitation.

“ ‘m not gay.”

Spike blinked then started laughing. “Doesn’t make much difference, now, does it? ‘m not lettin’ ya get away. You’ll sleep here and either like it or lump it. Got me?”

Xander yawned and stretched, “Yeah, I got it. And looks like you got me, don’t you.”

Spike was amused at Xander’s pragmatic acceptance of his move. “Yeah, I guess I do. Come on. Breakfast is ready.”

Xander stumbled from his--their, bed and headed for the bathroom. “I’ll be right out. Tell Timmins that I want coffee, lots of it. I’ve got to get to work. And call about my check, will you? And tell them to start electronically depositing my checks from now on. Ok? So did you read the . . .” Spike decided he’d better follow Xander or he’d be yelling from his shower.

“Pet. Can this wait until we sit down or are you . . .“ Spike trailed off as he got a good look a Xander. “Damn, pet, you look good.”

Xander unselfconsciously examined himself in the mirror. “Do I? I don’t think so. I’ll never look nice. I’m too fat and too scarred and all . . .mmmmf,” Xander mumbled against the hand Spike had clamped over his mouth.

“If you spit in there. Or lick me. I’ll blister you. Shut up an’ listen. You’re striking. All muscle and sleek skin. A few scars here and there don’t mean nothin’. Who said you’re fat? I’ll eat ‘em.”

Xander resisted the urge to lick Spike’s hand; he didn’t want a spanking. “Dad said I’m fat.” Xander looked in the mirror again, trying to see what Spike saw. “And don’t eat him; he’ll give you indigestion.” Xander turned to look at his back. He didn’t like what he saw. There were pale lines all over it.

Spike distracted Xander from his contemplation by telling him to hurry or there wouldn’t be any breakfast left. Then he walked out of the room, leaving Xander to shower and think.

---

When he was clean and dressed Xander headed for the kitchen.

He found Spike sitting talking to Timmins who was making breakfast for them.

Xander pulled out his chair and settled to wait. Spike peeked at him through his eyelashes and decided to keep silent until the boy spoke. He obviously had something to say, he just wasn’t sure how to say it. Spike could wait until Xander got his thoughts organized.

“Don’t get mad at me, ok? . . . I think I need a contract. I know I’m your thrall and whatever and you can do anything you want to me or use your Master Voice thingy to make me do stuff but you said, and I believe you, that you . . . I’m all mixed up now.” Xander gave Spike a despairing look. “How do I do that? I had it all figured out and now it’s all gone. Fuck!” Xander slapped both hands down on the table and started to get up.

Spike just snapped “Sit!” Xander plopped down like a marionette with cut strings. “Don’t fratch yourself so. I know what you want. We talked about it a little already. You write up whatever will make you feel safer. I’ll read it. I’m not promisin’ to sign it, but I’ll make changes I can live with. Then you change those. We’ll keep at it until we reach some sort of agreement. . . how’s that?”

Xander just nodded. “Ok. And, can I just say, don’t do that! Making sure I sit down again isn’t a proper use of that tone of voice. You can’t just go all ‘order Xander to do stupid stuff’ without warning. Besides, I don’t think it’ll do much to build respect in your minions.”

Spike rubbed his face wearily, wondering how such a smart person could act so . . . stupid wasn’t exactly the right word. “Ok, pet. You’re right. I shouldn’t a done that. Minions’ll be thinkin’ I’m frivolous and that won’t do. So, anyway, you do your writin’ and get it to me before you have to make your first appearance at court. I’m goin’ to go finish readin’ that journal and the scroll too. Eat a good breakfast.”

Spike sauntered out, tapping a cigarette out of its packet.

Xander ate his breakfast, wondering at Spike’s affability. He decided to write up his contract as soon as he could.

---

The next week was busy as Xander worked on another translation and the construction in the stables. He prepared for his introduction to Spike’s court. He also worked out with Master Bruce every day.

His time in the gardens was relaxing, as was his nightly massage from Spike. He never did manage to move back into his quarters, only going there to get clothing. Not that he minded much. It was nice waking up to someone calling his name in that tone of voice, instead of yelling at him.

Spike showed up with new glasses which he insisted on calling spectacles. Xander secretly thought he looked sexy in them.

When his purchases arrived, Xander took the boxes into his old bedroom and opened them. He examined everything and sighed. His time at the Fabulous Lady’s Night Club had taught him quite a bit, information he was going to use now.

He called Timmins and asked him to help. Timmins nearly choked when Xander told him what he wanted.

“Are you sure, Young Master?”

Xander gave Timmins a calm look. “Not particularly, but it’s necessary. You know damn well that nothing else is going to work. And I want to surprise Spike. Do you think he’ll be pleased? I hope so. He’s been so nice to me, I’m not really sure it’s Spike. And he keeps telling me he has ulterior motives. Gives me the creeps when he says that. It can’t be good, ulterior motives, do you think? And please tell me you know how all this goes. Cause I sure don’t. So what next?”

Timmins gave Xander a kind and exasperated look. “Well, you could begin by being silent. I’ll figure out all this gear. Then . . . well, you might as well use me as a handler because you will never be able to put most of this on by yourself.”

Xander stripped off his clothing and let Timmins fiddle and adjust and fit. Timmins stepped back to examine Xander then shook his head. “It doesn’t fit right.”

Xander wriggled; it didn’t. “Why not? Where’s the instructions?”

Timmins handed Xander the printed sheet and waited for the explosion, which didn’t come. “Ok. This is embarrassing.”

Timmins raised an eyebrow. “Yes, it is. This isn’t going to work without . . . er . . .”

Xander just sighed and growled. “Just spit it out. The harness isn’t going to fit without a butt plug. So now what?”

Timmins sorted through the assorted plugs that had come with the harness. “The directions state that you have to wear . . . this one or . . . this one for the best effect. I don’t think . . . well.” Timmins braced himself and asked, “Have you ever worn one?”

Xander shook his head. “No. Don’t even know how to get one in without hurting myself. So can I just die of embarrassment right now?”

“No, sir, you may not. I’ll show you how to do this. If you need me to, I’ll put it in for you every time. I’d advise starting right now and working up to the proper size so that you don’t . . . um . . . “

“Walk funny? Just get on with it. What do I do?”

Timmins helped Xander position himself, bent over the bedside, and did what needed to be done. Xander straightened up and decided that this wasn’t that bad. It didn’t hurt, but he was certainly aware that something was inside him.

“Not bad. Not good, but I can do this. Just . . . I’m kind of weirded out right now, so could you kind of give me some privacy? Oh, and thanks for Jesse’s shirt. I put it up. And the new flannel shirt is good. Now. Bye.”

Timmins just smiled at Xander and left. By now he was used to Xander’s combination of ruthless pragmatism and flat out stubbornness, as well as his sometimes nearly schizophrenic switches of subject.

Xander walked around the room a bit then sat down on the easy chair in the corner. It wasn’t as uncomfortable as he’d thought it would be, though he knew as the plugs got bigger he was going to feel it more. He sighed. The things he did because no one else would or could.

---

Spike smiled happily as he contemplated the picture in his head. He would be the envy of all the High Masters. None of the others had human pets, or thralls, or anything. They didn’t seem to be able to command loyalty or inspire fear or whatever it was that made a human stay. He knew that if he could win Xander’s loyalty and the man’s heart, his loving, loyal heart, he would have a companion for eternity. If.

Spike returned to his contemplation of his mental picture. In his mind’s eye he was standing in front of a brick archway which he realized was the entrance to one of the old catacombs in Rome. Why? He didn’t have a clue. He was standing spread legged with Xander sitting on the ground at his feet, one arm wrapped around his thigh. Xander looked so sexy in his leather chaps and heavy boots. The collar around his neck and the bands around his upper arms were black leather. The leash held firmly in his, Spike’s, hand was leather too. Xander looked comfortable and relaxed. Spike had to loosen his jeans. Xander’s pierced nipples made him so hard it hurt.

Spike finally realized that he was doing himself no good, gave it up as a bad job, wanked off and went back to reading the journal. He had to admit that the spectacles made reading so much easier. He was enjoying it again.

He was also enjoying comparing the differences in the old, what he thought of as the true, court and Ol’ Batface’s perversion of it. Spike decided that he was going to introduce the old rules as quickly as he could. They actually made sense. Heinrich had ruled by fear and intimidation, and trained his Childer to do the same. Spike had to admit that it was notoriously inefficient. He couldn’t remember a time he hadn’t taken true delight in messing with Angelus as much as he could without being punished.

Spike wondered what Xander made of the differences then decided to go ask him.

As he wandered through the rooms looking for Xander, he grumbled, “Soddin’ place is fuckin’ huge. I’m puttin’ a bell on that boy. I better just find Timmins and ask him where the whelp is.”

---

Timmins looked up from his work when he heard Master Spike calling him. “Sir? How may I help you?”

“Where the hell is Xander? I want to talk to him.” Spike jittered from one foot to the other. He needed a cigarette. “And I’m out of fags again. Bring me my boy and a pack. I’ll be in my office.”

Timmins just nodded and went to get the requested pack of cigarettes and find Xander.

He found him in his bedroom, rather than in the master suit where he should be.

“Master Spike wants you. And these,” he added, picking up a pack of cigarettes from the nightstand and handing them to Xander. “You should go quickly; he seems very agitated. Something good, I think.”

Xander grimaced as he got out of the chair. The longer he wore the plug the more uncomfortable he got, but he knew if he didn’t stick it out he’d be really uncomfortable when he had to go into the court.

“Do you need my help?”

Xander shook his head. “No, I’m just a little sore. I’ll go see what Spike wants. Maybe it’ll take my mind off this. Do you have a clue?”

Timmins shook his head. “No, young sir. Would you like me to help you dress?”

Xander nodded. “Yeah, I don’t think bending over is a good idea just now. Thanks.”

Timmins helped Xander with his shorts and jeans then left him to put on his own shirt. Xander ignored shoes or socks. The floors were warm enough that he really didn’t need them.

The soft pad of his feet alerted Spike to Xander’s arrival and Xander tossed him the pack of cigarettes as he flopped into his favorite chair with unpleasant results. He straightened up with a groan.

“Ow! Well, dumb much.”

Spike narrowed his eyes at Xander. “You alright, pet? Sounds like you hurt.”

Xander just put on his most mulish expression and started babbling. “No, nothing wrong with me. And don’t pry, it’s personal and private and not your business so nope not going there. Change the subject. Changing the subject good. Nosiness, not so good. So you wanted me what for and if it’s about that translation it’s right. I checked it twice and ran it by a professor and he said it was a myth but we both know better and now you talk.”

Spiked took a moment to admire Xander’s flushed face then started explaining exactly what he was going to do. Xander listened with interest and offered several intelligent suggestions. They spent the rest of the evening discussing changes in the running of the court. Spike didn’t miss the way Xander squirmed uncomfortably from time to time. He decided to let it go for now. If Xander wanted to keep some sort of secret, Spike knew he wouldn’t last long. The boy wasn’t good at secrets.