Janus' Shadow

by
Lit Gal

Part Seven

Xander heard the second ball drop while he tracked down felicitous numbers in relationship to the two Amphisbaena tribes that wanted to make eggs together. The dull clang of metal against concrete startled him, and then a strangled sound from Spike suggested that the vampire was struggling.

"Busy here, quiet down or I'll make you quiet," Xander commented as he continued scratching numbers on a notepad. Spike, surprisingly, did fall quiet. A second clanging sound echoed as the third ball fell to the floor. Xander shifted on his seat, equally lustful and uncomfortable with the thought of Spike's body aching as he struggled to hold the last two heavy spheres. Xander waited for them to drop, but no other sound came and he went back to calculating numbers of tribe members and days since the full moon and egg production.

Standing up from his desk nearly an hour later, he went over and ran a hand over Spike's back, feeling the welted skin under his fingers. Spike made a soft grunting noise around the gag, and Xander used a thumb to trace the puckered skin of the vampire's ass. The muscles shook with fatigue, and he could feel the cool iron right at the entrance.

"Let them go," Xander ordered and immediately the last two oiled balls fell into his hand as Spike wuffed a heavy sigh around the gag. Xander retrieved the other spheres from the floor and dropped them all into a dish on the corner shelf. Despite knowing that a vampire's colon was clean, he wanted to disinfect those five balls before pulling them back into the leather pouch that hung on the weapons rack. Just ew. Xander wiped his hand on his jeans and looked at Spike, who hung utterly limp.

Jumping up onto the bed, Xander unclipped the vamp's right arm, and Spike's body swung and hung limply from the left one, a new trail of blood creeping down his arm. Even through Xander moved as quickly as possible, Spike's left wrist had a deep cut from the manacles before Xander could loosen that chain from the ring and lower Spike's body to the bed.

Spike didn't move as he lay with his arms stretched over his head, and Xander realized that the young vampire's time with the Initiative had weakened him even more than Xander expected. When Xander climbed off the bed, Spike lay limply, his lips stretched around the wooden gag that he didn't even try to remove, and his legs still chained wide open. Xander opened his mouth to apologize, to say that he hadn't meant to do so much damage, but Spike blue eyes stopped him. Reaching over, Xander brushed a hair out of Spike's face, and Spike closed his eyes, his body settling into the mattress.

"My beautiful childe. Too exhausted to move, and yet you followed orders the best you could. So much control. So much deadly control," Xander praised, and Spike's eyes remained closed as he lay wilted and still on the bed.

"Sore?" Xander asked as he walked around to the end of the bed and put his hand over Spike's loose asshole and perineum. Spike nodded slightly, and Xander easily slipped two fingers inside, rubbing the sore muscles and watching Spike's back arch like a cat. Nusa had played this game with him once, making him hold a dozen of the balls until each one dropped like an overripe apple from a tree. He remembered the unique aching that made his entire body sore. He remembered the pleasure when those sore and aching muscles were stretched by one of his sire's toys.

"Just relax and you'll enjoy this," Xander said as he unzipped his pants. Spike opened one eye and looked back, but he otherwise lay still. Xander slowly pushed into the already opened body, forcing himself deeper into Spike as the vampire moaned low in his throat, the gag muffling the sound. "Just relax," Xander crooned. He'd been afraid that he would come immediately, but seeing Spike like this had brought up enough guilt to prevent that. Strangely though, he didn't feel enough guilt to get rid of his erection, and that made him feel even more guilty because naked, chained, gagged, and subjugated Spike should not make him so hard he ached. And yet…

Xander stopped thinking and just started slowly rocking in and out, groaning at the feeling of Spike's body trembling around his cock. He kept his motions slow, massaging and working those fatigued muscles. Below him, Spike arched and closed his hands into fists, and Xander started thrusting a little harder.

Now Spike's back arched so strongly that his shoulders came up off the bed, his forearms supporting his weight as he made noises that didn't sound like any language, and Xander knew over a hundred languages. Taking that as his cue, Xander began to slam into Spike, his thighs slapping against Spike's skin as he aimed downward into the prostate. Spike now added little thrusts, as much as he could with his ankles chained, as he rubbed himself into the bed.

"If you want to come, I suggest you do it before I do," Xander commented hoarsely. The sight of Spike's wanton pleasure quickly overrode any guilt as he could feel his own orgasm gathering. He slammed in again, and Spike growled around the gag, pushing himself up to his hands so that his back was inhumanly arched as the body stiffened. Xander thrust once more, and then started to come himself. He dropped onto Spike, grabbing the vampire's arms and biting into an exposed and arched neck.

Once the waves of orgasm passed, Xander let his weight fall on his lover, his childe. His cock still buried and warm, he reached up and played with a bit of hair, wishing he could order his childe to grow it long, but understanding that this persona the childe had created was his armor. He would have to wait until Spike felt strong enough to let this personality go. Trailing his finger down Spike's nose, he finally reached the lips, tracing their edges as they stretched around the gag.

"I think we can get rid of this," Xander said, as he unbuckled the thing. Spike immediately pushed it out with his tongue, but before the hellcat could offer any complaints, Xander crushed his own mouth to Spike's. The angle was wrong with Xander laying on Spike's back and too lazy to pull out of Spike's body, but Xander didn't care. He explored alien teeth and tickled the top of Spike's mouth and nibbled at a lip as Spike's tongue explored him.

Finally Xander pulled away, pushing himself up onto his arms and looking down at Spike, who still lay like a rag doll with his arms flopped on the bed.

"I told you I would see you limp with pleasure and pain," Xander whispered.

"Not soddin' limp," Spike disagreed without moving, his words muffled by the mattress his face was half embedded in.

"Of course not, my hellcat," Xander conceded as he slowly withdrew. His cock ached in a good, overused kinda way. He'd been hard for hours, so he didn't know why he was surprised at being all owie. "I'm glad you're not limp, childe of mine," Xander offered as he slapped a hip, "because we have a meeting to go to if we don't want Giles to think you ate me." For the first time that day, Xander looked down at his damaged arm, where the hicky with the puncture marks still showed against his skin. Right, long sleeves for him.

"And the slayer?" Spike asked suspiciously, even though he didn't move.

"I told you last night, I'm not good with the thinky, so we're going with impetuous stupidity and hoping she'll forgive me later," Xander offered cheerfully. Spike just made a grunt.

"Bloody hell, might be nice if one of us had a plan," he finally added after Xander had retrieved several packets of blood and one of the huge, plastic stadium glasses with a logo from a local hardware store on the side.

"Oh, I have a plan, not a good one, but one that will probably work if we don't end up dead first," Xander assured him as he waited for the blood to heat and appreciated the view Spike offered from behind with his legs chained open and the back of his thighs still red with whip marks. Now Xander could even see a trickle of white leaking out since Spike was too limp to tighten the ring of muscle at his ass. Oh yeah, he was a sick, sick boy. A happy, sick boy. A happy, sick boy who missed vampire stamina because not even a teenager could get up again this fast.

"And?" Spike asked when Xander fell silent.

"And nothing. I told you. No more thinkiness. Nope, no thinky, just acty," Xander insisted as he pulled the blood from the microwave and brought it to the bed. With a sigh, Spike pushed himself upright.

"Right then, planning on unchaining me?" Spike asked as he took the large cup filled with enough sire's blood to cure his pains. If Xander had to guess, he would say it was more sire's blood than Spike had ever been allowed. Spike drank the blood slowly, his eyes closed in pleasure.

"I rather like this view. I think I may leave you like this whenever we're home. You chained up like some offering, ready for me to take as I like, those muscles straining and your most private parts vulnerable only to me. I think you may spend quite a bit of time like that," Xander said as he went to one of the two small closets where he kept his less geeky clothes. Stripping off his t-shirt he considered his choices. Normally a night of Scoobie meetings and patrols called for flannel or brightly colored Hawaiian wear. Tonight, he decided to go for a change. He pulled a soft, midnight blue sweater over his head and turned to look at Spike, who watched him, the empty cup still in hand.

"Oh yes, I think that's a good place for you. It keeps you out of trouble, and it does so amuse me to see you like this," Xander said as he came after the cup.

He expected Spike to preen at the compliment, but instead he watched Xander carefully, that ocular game of dominance back again as he dropped his gaze to the ground.

"Say what you're thinking," Xander ordered as he took the cup.

"Wot? Nothing," Spike said, and the expression had cleared, his face becoming neutral.

"I tell you that we're going to a meeting, and you get… distant. I am sure this is not nothing," Xander contradicted Spike as he rinsed out the cup and put it in the dishwasher.

"Not scared of the slayer."

"I never thought you were, certainly not after you made a deal with her to save the world or attacked her in broad daylight."

"Just don't want her…" Spike stopped.

"Spike, I can't stop her from taking verbal shots at you any more than I will stop you from taking verbal shots at her. However, she will not physically attack you when you're helpless. She wouldn't, and if she would, I won't let her," Xander promised. Spike's expression returned, relief evident, and Xander turned to the closet to find the smallest things he could. He had a pair of jeans that had shrunk in hot water that would probably still be too big for Spike but at least they would sorta fit.

"So, if I tell her she's a slut for sleeping with Angelus?" Spike asked as Xander dug through the clothes that had fallen to the bottom of the closet.

"Not like I haven't thought it," Xander answered. "I'd never say it, but I've thought it."

"And if I point out that her hair color comes straight out of a bottle?" Spike's voice now had more of the devilish glee that Xander had first fallen in love with back when he'd been a vampire and Spike had tried to kill him.

"People in glass houses, Spike," Xander pointed out. "I have some evidence here that your hair color isn't exactly natural," Xander waved a hand toward Spike's naked body where the hair definitely wasn't blonde.

"Yeah, but I can carry it off; she looks like a washed out housewife with that color."

"Just as long as you don't call her fat, I don't care what you say. Just don't expect her to take it lying down," Xander pointed out as he came up with the jeans. They were wrinkled, but a quick spin in the dryer would fix that, and at least they were dark blue and in decent shape.

"And if I call you her lapdog?" Xander froze, his cold gaze turning to Spike as he felt fury rise in his chest. Spike's eyes dropped to the floor. "Not like I mean it, mate, but I'm thinking your chums… they don't want to know about this side of you." Spike's words cut through the anger, and Xander started to smile. His hellcat might be impetuous and foolish, but he wasn't stupid. Even more importantly, he had turned that sharp mind to doing something to make Xander's life easier, as he should.

"Fair enough. Outside this room, we are the parts we need to be, but in here," Xander dropped the jeans on the top of the dryer revealed behind kitchen cupboards before walking over to Spike and grabbing the vampire by the back of the neck, "in here you are my childe, and you will not forget it."

"Not bloody likely to," Spike said as he leaned into the grip.

"I'll be happy to remind you any time you like," Xander answered with a smile.

"Just me that you'll remind?" Spike asked curiously.

"I'll do vhat I have to do," Xander insisted seriously, and Spike nodded. "Right now, unchain yourself and go get cleaned up. You're a mess," Xander pressed a key into Spike's palm and went to shove the jeans in the dryer with a damp towel.

"I'm still voting for chaining him in some dark basement," Buffy complained, her arms crossed and a determined expression making it clear that she wasn't going to go down easy on this issue.

"If any of us had a basement available I might consider the plan, but we cannot leave Spike unguarded," Giles had his patient teacher-voice going, and Xander bit his tongue as he tried to stay out of the fight.

"Xander guarding Spike," Buffy snorted.

"Hey! Sitting right here," Xander snapped back before he remembered he was supposed to be biting his tongue.

"No offense, Xander, but you're not exactly reliable-boy any more. I went by Hotdog on a Stick after I talked to Giles, and they said you'd stopped showing up for work like a month ago. What happens if you flake out when you're supposed to be keeping an eye on biteless wonder here?" Buffy turned on him, and Xander closed his eyes and counted to ten in three different languages.

"Brainless bint," Spike hissed under his voice.

"Buff, I stopped working there because of that huge bruise and cracked ribs I got flying into a headstone when those biker guys rose from their graves. Remember? Oh, wait, that was the night you had to quit early to study for a chem test, so Giles and I had to deal with that one alone."

"Oh hey, look, they have ice skating on television," Willow piped in, turning the television up so that the overly cheery music filled the room. Spike snorted. Giles rolled his eyes.

"Are you saying I'm not doing my job?" Buffy's voice was low and dangerous.

"He'd never say that!" Willow instantly insisted.

"No, I wouldn't say that," Xander retaliated, crossing his own arms over his chest.

"I've given my life for this slayer-gig. I've given up everything to do my duty, so don't even go there," Buffy practically shrieked, and Xander could feel an edge of something permanent and ugly creep into the landscape.

"God, Buff, I know that," Xander dropped his eyes and rubbed a hand over his face. "I know you're doing your job."

"Like bloody hell she is," Spike offered from the arm of the couch where he sprawled as if it were his home. "Never seen a slayer that asks for nights off or lets other people do her work for her. Demons have minions, but I never knew slayers to before you lot," Spike waved an unlit cigarette around the room as everyone froze in place.

"Hey, not big with the minioning, we are so not minions," Willow said as she sat up straight.

"I really think—" Giles started.

"Watch it, because if you think I should be more traditional with the slaying, Mr. Pointy has no problem with turning you to dust," Buffy took one step forward, and Xander practically threw himself off the couch and between the two. He didn't think Buffy would stake Spike, but he wasn't taking any chances.

"Hey, he's not with the biting, and you're not with the staking. We already agreed on that!" Xander said as he put his back to Spike and held out a placating hand toward Buffy. He discovered his mistake when Buffy's face reddened with fury, and he turned to see Spike making a face at her. Putting his elbow into Spike as hard as he could, he kept focused on Buffy, who now looked ready to stake him to get at Spike.

"Oi! Didn't call her fat… you said it was fair game as long as I didn't call the bint fat," Spike complained, and Xander felt his stomach roll the way it had when he'd spotted that dead cat with the maggots making the scabby fur on it move. Buffy's face twisted into something first ugly and then hurt, and Xander preferred the angry Buffy to this injured expression.

"You talked about me being fat?" Buffy asked in a small voice.

"Xander! How could you?" Willow flew up from her spot on the floor looking for the perfect television show to stop a fight and aimed a fairly serious backhand at his arm. Of course, for Willow, "fairly serious" meant a fair-to-middling chance it would have killed a fly, but Xander still flinched.

"No!" Xander yelped as he considered the two women now glaring at him. "I never said she was fat. She just talks about dieting all the time when she doesn't need to diet and I told Spike to not say anything." Xander glared at Spike, who looked remarkable unfazed. When Xander had given permission for Spike to play the part of an unwilling captive, he hadn't expected it to go quite so far. He narrowed his eyes in frustration, and Spike suddenly got up and began exploring Giles' book collection.

"So, you don't think I'm fat?" Buffy asked.

"Of course he doesn't," Willow stepped in before Xander could say anything.

"Of course I don't," he echoed.

"Right, if we're finished with the pointless bickering, are we ready to discuss this new government Initiative? Or rather, what may be an on-going government program, since Angel called this morning with information on his contact with a similar group in World War II."

"Angel?" Buffy asked, turning away from Xander and Spike, and Xander breathed a sigh of relief right before Willow hit him again for good measure.

"And there goes Slutty the Vampire Layer on the quest for a good lay," Spike offered and Xander could only roll his eyes.

"Spike, do shut up," Giles answered as he picked up a legal pad full of scratchings. "This experimentation is a little…" Giles paused.

"Barbaric," Xander offered in the silence.

"Yes, quite."

"What did Angel have to say about them?" Buffy asked.

"They blackmailed him into retrieving an enemy sub. They made no attempt to perform experiments on him."

"Oi, that's because he ditched the thing before he met up with them again," Spike interrupted. "Knew the bugger was up to something when he tossed me and Lawson overboard."

"He what?" Xander could feel his anger rise at the thought of Angel carelessly tossing Spike aside, again.

"Lawson?" Giles asked.

"Nazis thought they could use demons, yeah?" Spike started, waving the cigarette Giles had forbidden him to light. "Had several of us on this sub when we staged a bit of a revolt. McAttitude shows up and tells us we can't eat the rest of the crew, then he goes and eats one of the crew, then he kicks me and his newest childe right off. Tells us he'll stake us if he sees us again."

"A childe?" Xander asked, horrified, "not a minion?"

"Mate, he had more sire's blood in him than I did. He wasn't just a childe, he was juiced on sire's blood."

"But Angel just—" Xander couldn't get the words out.

"Angel wouldn't have turned someone unless there was no choice," Buffy insisted.

"I'm sure that's true," Giles assured her.

"Who gives a flying fuck? He made a childe and then dumped him without a thought," Xander snapped.

"Xander? What the hell is wrong with you lately?" Xander felt a pull on his arm, and he turned to see Buffy looking up at him, her eyes wide with worry. The Xander he had been could see that he was hurting his friends, worrying them. The whispers from the past wanted to find Angel and beat him until blood ran in rivers.

"Buffy, that's wrong," Xander said earnestly.

"Angel wouldn't have turned the man if he didn't need to. They were fighting Nazis, demons and Nazis," she explained earnestly.

"And Nazis are right up there with demons on the 'absolutely must stop to save the world' list, " Willow agreed. "Way up there, maybe higher than some demons even."

"But he…" Xander let his voice trail off as he realized he had no way to explain the reason for his horror. He looked to Spike, whose carefully neutral expression showed the vampire's distress, and then at Giles, who polished his glasses and avoided eye contact.

"Buffy, I'm tired and not feeling all that charitable toward Deadboy or the government or anyone else right now. Maybe I should just head out."

"That might be a good idea," Giles offered as he slipped his glasses on.

"But the pizza, the pizza hasn't even come yet, and we ordered the extra cheesy goodness, and you can't give up pizza," Willow said softly. Buffy stepped back and dropped into a chair, still looking cranky, but clearly not wanting to fight any more. Xander felt a stab of regret that he couldn't seem to find his footing with Buffy now; they couldn't seem to find that comfortable place where they could all three of them curl up and make fun of people on television. Of course, adding Spike to his life wasn't going to help matters, but he wouldn't abandon Spike.

"Tell you what, come over Saturday, and I'll order the pizza," Xander offered as he looked at Willow. He didn't limit his invitation to her exactly, but he did drop his eyes to the floor without looking at Buffy.

"But we have this big paper coming due," Willow had a dismayed tone, but Xander just shrugged.

"Hey, that's okay, college girls have college deadlines, and non-collegy boys don't," Xander offered with a small smile and another shrug. "Come on, Bleach Boy, let's run through a cemetery or two before we head back to the apartment."

Xander got up and headed for the door. Giles stepped into his path, and Xander looked up at the man, expecting worry or even anger. Instead Giles pressed a small book into his hand. "Do be careful, Xander," Giles suggested.

"No problem, G-man," Xander answered as he detoured around the man without looking down at the book. Xander opened the door and practically bolted into the night. He didn't bother to even wait for Spike as he power-walked the length of the block to where his blue lady waited in the pool of light from the only working streetlight on the block.

"Right then, what he give ya?" Spike asked, and Xander turned to find the vamp already leaning one hip into the two-tone car, a glowing cigarette between his lips as he sucked deeply. Xander glanced down and started laughing.

"Wot?" Spike asked, straightening up and leaning forward so he could see the title, "Imperium," written in a sharp scrolling script that was probably Rual or Waa'ath.

"He's a little behind the time, innit he?" Spike asked with a gesture toward the small demonic book of spells that allowed a person to gain control over another.

"Just a bit, yeah," Xander said, surprised both that Giles would offer that kind of help and that Giles would give him a demonic book. "Oh shit," Xander said as he looked at Spike in horror. "He knows I read demon."

"Yeah, so?"

"But that means he knows… okay, I don't know what he knows," Xander admitted. He looked at Spike, who just cocked a head at him.

"He goin' to be a problem?" Spike asked, obviously confused by the whole conversation.

Xander laughed. "God, you sound like a mafia boss when you say it like that," Xander said, worried that the laughter just might be hysterical. Walking around to the driver's side, he opened the car and slid in. Spike pulled open the windowless door on his side, and Xander added "car shop" to the list right under "new sheets."

"So, where to now?" Spike asked, as he slammed his door shut.

"To see a man about a chip," Xander said in his best 007 impression. He looked over his shoulder for traffic before guiding his car into the road as he headed for the bad part of town. The really, really bad part of town.

Part Eight

Xander parked his lady in the shadow of a jagged cliff, the moonlight showing an empty field of weeds and pebbles in various shades of grey, a wide-mouthed drainage pipe sticking out of the bottom of the cliff on one side, and a drunken barbed-wire fence on the other. Xander turned the car off and sat staring at the stone in front of him.

"Left Sunnydale a ways back there," Spike pointed out, shifting his boot from the dashboard to the floor.

"Technically, this is still Sunnydale, just really not a nice part of it."

"Don't seem to be enough here for it to be one thing or another," Spike pointed out, and then Xander watched as vampire bones cracked into place and Spike turned his head toward the broken window. Xander didn't have the nose for sniffing the air anymore, but given that he'd seen what kind of demons came stomping through here, he could guess what Spike smelled.

Xander opened the door, the dome light flashing on so that the pool around their car turned to color: the sick grey-green of grass, the brown and grey gravel, the grey stick like twigs that would never grow into trees, and it occurred to Xander that even with the lights on, this place didn't have much color. A second door slammed right after his, and Spike came bouncing around the car, flexing his hands.

"Right, we here for a fight?" Spike asked, his eyes scanning the darkness. Xander couldn't resist smiling at the kid-at-Christmas smile on Spike's face.

"Not if we can avoid it, because killing? Not such a good way to ask for help."

"Ask for help?" Spike dropped out of game-face, his blue eyes focusing on Xander although in the dark, they faded to grey as well.

"I told you we're seeing a man about a chip," Xander pointed out.

"Now?" Spike seemed confused, and now Xander cocked his head as he considered his vampire.

"Well, yeah?"

Spike slowly grinned, and if the last smile was a kid at Christmas, this was a pervert-in-a-sex-shop smile, a tired-husband-in-a-strip-joint smile and a teenager-discovering-Internet-porn smile all wrapped up in one. And why did all his metaphors about Spike's curving mouth have to be pervy?

"Goin' to fix me then?" Spike asked, and Xander finally understood.

"Doubt my word again, and I'll fix you," Xander suggested with a veiled threat as he passed Spike and headed for the giant drain pipe. Behind him, Spike's boots crunched over gravel and dead weeds, and Xander smiled at bringing that grin to Spike's face.

Xander didn't even have to duck his head to walk into the corrugated metal tunnel, Spike's heavy boots clanking behind him. No one would accuse them of trying to sneak in. Xander kept his hand out in the darkness, stopping when he felt the warmth of a wooden door under his fingers. Rapping twice sharply, Xander stepped back in the pitch black and found hands at his hips, holding him lightly. Xander let his own hand trail over the back of Spike's fingers, appreciating that touch in what, for him anyway, was complete darkness.

"What?" a wheezing voice demanded as a square section opened, and Xander could see broad shoulders and curving horns backlit so that it became only a black outline of a Fyarl demon.

"Xander Harris," he announced firmly. "Or Xan Nusa," he added.

"That supposed to mean something?" the door demon demanded.

Spike growled, and the Fyarl bobbed its head aggressively.

"Just tell your Master," Xander said as he turned his back and walked away. He wasn't going to argue with minions, and turning his back on the beast made the strongest statement possible. Of course the fact that Spike's eyes flashed yellow in the dark as he continued to growl made the whole back-turning thing a little easier to do without it turning into a whole peeing-the-pants thing. Xander heard the door slam shut, and he waited.

He'd expected demands and frantic energy from Spike, but instead, a hand simply found his stomach, cool fingers working under his shirt and resting there without moving. Xander rested one of his hands on Spike's arm and looked out at the complete darkness, waiting.

The door banged open a second time and the outline of the demon returned. "This way," he practically coughed, his displeasure clear in the side to side movement of that massive head. Xander ignored the cranky Fyarl and walked into the inner passage which instantly widened out to a swap mart, well, a swap mart minus the funnel cake goodness and plus demons, racks of weapons for sale, occasional screams, and more than one creature on a leash, and very few of the leashed critters were actually dogs.

Xander steeled himself against images he'd tried his best to forget. He'd come here before, several times in fact, but each time, he felt this same shock and horror and really rather uncomfortable curiosity as he spotted bits of iron that he wasn't familiar with, and even more discomfort when he knew what they were. He'd stopped doing business down here not long after starting to do business down here, and Xander still blessed Uick for giving him a place to set up shop and meet customers.

"Knives, best around," a small brown elf-like demon offered, shoving a silver knife toward him. Spike's growl rose in volume, and Xander struggled to not grab for his own knife and his gun and even wish for a stick or two of dynamite. He kept his eyes forward and pretended disinterest as the corridor narrowed and quieted into the twisting tunnels of the deeper regions. The Fyarl had to duck now, his horns scraping once or twice on the sloping edges of the ceiling.

"Here," the demon thumped a door with a clawed hand and then headed back down the tunnel toward the fair. Xander pulled open the heavy door and found a familiar room inside. The rough stone walls had irregular bookshelves tucked between veins of rock, and an ornate carved desk stood on a thick rug.

Xander figured the desk had either been carved in place or magicked in because it sure couldn't have gotten through some of the turns in the tunnels. One soft brown leather chair sat behind the desk, and one smaller red leather chair waited for guests in front of the desk. Xander sat in the guest chair and tried to stretch his neck, making the bones pop loudly in the silence.

"Not feeling particularly good about havin' ta fight my way out through that," Spike said softly.

"Um, I'm thinking it's a 'no' on the fighting. Well, unless we really have to. If we really have to, fighting is better than not fighting," Xander amended himself, and Spike snorted. Shooting his vampire a dirty look, he waited until Spike dropped his eyes down and shifted. Disgusted noises were on the 'no' list, and Xander trusted that Spike had just gotten that message.

"Right, so if it comes down ta fists and fangs, what's the plan?" Spike finally asked as his eyes roamed the room.

"Kill them?" Xander suggested.

"Bloody—" Spike snapped off his own curse.

"I did say this was a bad plan. It's just the only plan I have right now because this guy has supposedly gotten one or two of these chip things out," Xander chewed a thumbnail absent-mindedly, the last of his cool used up in the bluff that had gotten them this far.

"Coulda just given me a name," Spike's voice sounded brittle, and the vampire started pacing, his leather coat flapping behind him, whipping with a cracking snap each time he changed direction.

"I wouldn't send you in here alone," Xander said around the hangnail.

"Not an idiot," Spike growled, and Xander found himself catching an unhappy glare.

"I never said you were." Xander abandoned his chair and intercepted Spike on the next pass. He pulled his childe to him with a hand on the back of his neck, drawing the vampire close until they stood forehead to forehead and Xander could look into those bright whiskey eyes. "This man knows me. He likes to get me worked up. He would have demanded to see me anyway because it's part of his game."

"Then you soddin' well shouldn't be here." Spike's voice carried a frustration and an anger Xander hadn't heard before.

"I wouldn't be if you weren't with me," Xander promised him, letting his hand migrate south to Spike's shoulder and then around to the font where he could feel Spike's body vibrating through the fabric of his shirt. "I told this guy I'd never come back because I was starting to feel a little too much like some rare tropical bird he wanted to cage and look at…" Xander thought about that for a second. "Well, that and poke at, I get the feeling this guy's a poker."

"Not makin' me feel better, here," Spike complained, the swirling whiskey eyes now solid yellow and malevolent. Xander found the sight of his childe's anger delicious.

"You'll make sure I don't get caged, and I'll make sure he takes that chip out of my deadly childe's head," Xander whispered even though anyone might be listening. He wasn't trying to hide either his faith in Spike or his unhappiness at having to come here again.

"He touches ya and I'll eat him."

"Don't. You'll probably just get indigestion," Xander answered with a smile. With Spike now settled down to a soft growl, Xander flopped back into the chair before his knees could start knocking together.

The sorcerer always did have a wicked sense of timing, and he chose that moment to open the door and brush into the room, his open-necked shirt and tweed pants yelling "nerd" more than "powerful, evil, life-sucking chaos-worshiping bad-ass sorcerer," but Xander wasn't fooled.

"Ethan," he said stiffly as he stood and held out a hand.

"If it isn't my protégé," Ethan Rayne smiled, taking Xander's hand in both of his own, a gesture of friendship that made Xander long for some good old-fashioned lye soap. "What has brought my successor back to me?" Ethan asked as he walked around the desk and settled in, his elbows resting on the papers spread across its surface, his chin resting on his palms.

"I'm not your protégé. I'm not your anything. Ever." Xander paused for a second as he sat down again. "Ever." He bit his tongue to keep from saying more, but for some reason Ethan always did pull up his Zeppo side. Spike shifted slightly, and now Xander could hear shuffling near the door. He guessed from Spike's carefully disinterested expression that Ethan had brought a guard.

"Oh, my dear boy, you know I made you the man you are today," Ethan disagreed with a smile.

"You made me help the slayer? Wow. I missed that memo. Your buddies must be really put out with you." Xander struggled to hold back a dozen other comments since he needed Ethan. Otherwise, he would never be in the same room with the man.

"Now, now, bitterness does not become you," Ethan waved off the insult. "So, what brings you to my little corner of the world? I seem to remember that last we spoke, you said you would never grace me with your presence again."

"I didn't—"

"The words 'hell' and 'freezing' were used," Ethan interrupted.

"I hear there are some interesting weather patterns in Pylea this year."

"Brilliant," Ethan laughed. "You do have a wicked sense of humor, my boy." Ethan turned his attention to Spike, who stood with his back to a bookshelf as he watched the room. "I don't believe we've met."

"Spike."

Xander had to admit he was surprised at this new silent, deadly version of Spike. He'd seen Spike dance with glee through death and blood, but this version of Spike promised swift, emotionless death. Xander couldn't decide which signals gave him that impression, but he noticed that Ethan didn't offer his hand.

"Ah, William the Bloody. I had heard you and Xander had come to some interesting arraignments last year. You know how demons love to gossip."

"If they want to keep their heads attached to their soddin' bodies, they'd better keep their yaps shut about me," Spike's voice had a soft tone that made his words seem even more sincere.

"So defensive. Perhaps the rumors are not just hyperbole and conjecture," Ethan offered, and Spike's sudden growl and the sharp snapping sound that could only be teeth made the man jerk back.

"Rumors? What rumors?" Xander demanded, even while appreciating seeing Ethan off guard for once. The man was always so damn smug that Xander felt a constant need to check his fly and make sure he didn't have a cow's lick of hair sticking up. However, Spike's ability to make the man flinch put him in a whole new light.

"That William the Bloody managed a short stay with our boys in green," Ethan offered.

"Oh shit," Xander had thought they would have more time. Any human with a grudge or a bounty could target Spike now.

Ethan laughed. "Word has traveled rather quickly that the Aurelius house has shifted yet again. One needs a scorecard to track allegiances."

Xander glared at the sorcerer for several long seconds, hating that Spike shifted uncomfortably. "I have every faith in Spike, and his allegiance is quite firm even if he is proficient at hiding what I have demanded he hide," Xander defended Spike. "But right now, I just want the Initiative chip out of Spike's head."

"Oh, so the buggers did manage to bag William the Bloody."

"Watch it, mate, just as happy to rip your throat out as look at ya," Spike interjected, and Xander leaned back in his chair, enjoying the fleeting expression of concern as Ethan glanced toward his own bodyguard.

"Well, that's just ungrateful. After all, I am the proud… I suppose 'sire' is the wrong word—"

"Call yourself my sire and I'll gut you myself," Xander growled, leaning forward in the chair as the guard behind him took a rather loud step forward. Knowing that threats sometimes had to be followed through, Xander closed his hand around a knife he had tucked in his sleeve. Xander didn't lose focus on Ethan as Spike shifted into a fighting stance in response to the shifting bodyguard behind him. Xander just prayed the thing had some demon blood or it would be one hell of a short fight.

"Now, now, kill me and your pet is stuck with that thing."

"He's not a pet." Xander pulled his knife and sank the end of it a good inch into the wood of Ethan's desk, spearing a number of papers.

"Well, I never meant to insult," Ethan began, holding up his hands in surrender. More shifting behind him. "Whatever your relationship, I simply meant to point out that you need me."

"I know that or I wouldn't be here," Xander snapped. "Now what do you want to get that thing out of Spike's head?" Xander asked, pulling the knife from the wood and sitting back down. He noticed that Spike kept his fighting-ready stance, and Xander smiled approvingly at his childe's aggression.

"Well, there are certain factions that would like to see this three way race with the Initiative, the slayer, and the demon-population narrowed down," Ethan pointed out with a small wave of one hand. "Eliminate a player, and the game changes, shifts."

"I'm not big with the taking down the Initiative plan since that would take months, and I want this chip out now. Try again." Xander slid the knife back into place even though he kept his hand close.

"I never suggested targeting the Initiative. You don't even have to take action. You provide a little intelligence on the slayer—what she values, what motivates her, what she fears—and I will spirit the chip out of your…" Ethan stopped as he looked up toward Spike.

"Childe," Xander supplied the word. Ethan smiled. It was not a nice smile.

"Oh my boy, I am so proud of you. The day will come when I will point you out and say that I put your feet on the true path."

"Don't bet on it, you son of a—"

"Language, no need to get crass," Ethan interrupted him. "You know, I think I have just discovered where I made my mistake with Rupert. I tried to keep him by my side, keep him sheltered. He tasted power only through me, and so he found it easy to walk away from the potential. But you've tasted that power, haven't you, my boy?"

"Call me 'boy' again, and I'll cut your tongue out." Xander leaned forward, and out of the corner of his eye, Spike shifted again, moving closer with a cat-like and lethal grace.

"It would make it unfortunately difficult for me to complete the spell you want. So, will you meet my price?" Ethan asked. He held up his two hands as though weighing items. "You give me some irrelevant information," Ethan tipped his hands one way to show a scale tilting, "and I cure your childe."

"Name another price." Xander fought to keep his voice calm.

"There is no other price." Ethan's smirk made Xander wish for vampire strength and vampire speed and a vampire's lack of morality over the whole killing issue.

"Maybe I'll just tell Giles that you're still here, sliming in the corners of the sewers," Xander threatened.

"Oh bugger. No! Please not that," Ethan mockingly begged in a voice heavy with sarcasm. "Do you truly think he doesn't know? Where else would a serious sorcerer be but a Hellmouth? And Cleveland is not my style."

"You suck." Xander said, realizing just a little too late that the defeated Zeppo voice revealed entirely too much to this man who did have a huge part in creating him, no matter how much Xander tried to deny it.

"And swallow," Ethan said with a smile and a waggle of his eyebrows. "It's not like I'm asking you to act against your precious slayer. You just give us a little information the way Giles can go to his books and call his friends and find out a little information on any assassin who targets her. It's all quite fair."

Xander stared at the man, feeling the helpless rage as he found himself wanting to choke the spell out of Ethan, but they would never leave these tunnels if he tried that, and Xander knew that entirely too well. It didn't stop him from having violent fantasies including Ethan, a rope, and a face slowly turning purple.

"Deal?" Ethan's voice came out honey-smooth and soft like a kindergarten teacher.

"No deal," Xander said as he stood.

"Interesting. So, you're going to allow your childe to suffer? After all, you aren't sacrificing the slayer; you are simply providing a little intelligence to even the battle field."

"There are no even battle fields with you," Xander pointed out as he turned toward the door. A Kungai demon stood there, his yellowed skin and horn gleaming in the dull light of the office.

"Oh ye of little faith. How can you think that of me?" Ethan asked in a voice full of mock-indignation and very real humor.

"Because in nine hundred years I never played an even field if I could find a way to rig the game," Xander pointed out, glancing over his shoulder before heading for the door.

"I'll be here when you change your mind," Ethan yelled. Xander didn't bother answering. Xander also tried to ignore that carefully neutral expression on Spike's face… the expression Xander was learning meant that Spike was thinking something he didn't want to say to his sire. Why couldn't life be easy for him just once, he wondered as he headed through the tunnels, the Kungai occasionally offering directions either left or right from behind as the tunnels split.

Part Nine

Right, suppose I should just be goin' now," Spike offered as Xander turned the corner that led to the "just bad" part of town. An emaciated creature leaned against the brick wall in front of the old folks' home, his legs and arms sprawling in a vaguely inhuman way. Maybe that's what distracted Xander from immediately processing the comment. Either that, or his brain was slowly grinding to a halt, or more of a halt, from all the stress.

"What?" Xander jerked the car to the right and then overcompensated, swerving over the yellow line before straightening out again.

"Oi, ya drive worse than I do," Spike complained while completely ignoring the question.

"Not even," Xander snapped as he raced a yellow light. "And you aren't going anywhere."

"Not goin' to put you between choosing the slayer or me, been down that path." When Xander glanced over, Spike's face had that neutral expression that never boded well, his fingers playing with an unlit cigarette.

"I'm not choosing Buffy... I didn't choose Buffy," Xander protested, the pieces falling into place as he considered his hellcat's habit of being tossed aside by his elders. "I won't choose Buffy," Xander finished in a determined voice. And really, he wouldn't. Of course, he wouldn't betray her either, but now was not the time to try and explain that. Now he had to convince Spike that he wouldn't repeat the mistakes of Angelus and Drucilla.

"Never said ya did. Just sayin' that you're goin' to have to eventually. Time for me to take a walk before that happens. Besides, like you said, when word of the chip gets around, I'll have a target on my back. Best if I just stay ahead of the news." Spike's clipped tones made Xander's chest ache, and he tightened his fists on the steering wheel until his knuckles turned white. Part of him wanted to pull the car over and pound into Spike until the childe couldn't remember his own name, much less some imagined fear of being abandoned. Xander eyed the narrow front seat of the car for a half second, but really, getting arrested for public indecency wouldn't really do anyone any good. Xander had an image of Giles coming to bail them out, and he shivered. Oh yeah, not doing that. Sex could wait until the apartment.

"We're going to get the chip out before your back turns target." Xander said confidently.

"Seems like the only person who knows how to do that is back there, mate," Spike poked his thumb over his shoulder.

"He's not the only person." Xander immediately snapped, but then he paused. "Okay, right now he might be the only person, but if he figured it out, I can figure something out. I just need to be figuring boy for a few days… or a few weeks. I can do this." Xander bit his tongue and concentrated on the road. A few stray drops of rain hit his windshield, and Xander could feel a homicidal rage stalking the edge of his mind. Yeah, Ethan was a sadistic son of a bitch, but Xander had really thought that a little groveling, a little inappropriate touching, and way too much money would bring the chaos mage around. Besides, Ethan should love Spike what with the blood-thirst and Spike's habit of bringing out Xander's own demon memories.

Xander still remembered the first time he'd gone down into the demon bazaar, lured by the chance to make enough money to move out of the basement where his parents had relegated him after one particularly nasty fight. Ethan had quickly latched onto him, claiming credit for creating the new Xander through his magic. But he didn't need Ethan. He'd known and forgotten more in his life than Ethan ever learned. Unfortunately what he knew and remembered didn't seem to have any answer to the problem of the chip.

"I can do this," Xander repeated softly as he hit the windshield wipers, smearing a dozen fat drops of water across the dusty glass. Spike didn't answer, but he did make a soft snorting noise.

A group of teenagers dashed for cover from the spitting rain, and Xander nearly choked on a sudden burst of laughter. Yep, count on Sunnydale kids to run from rain but to walk down dark streets without worrying about vampires and demons and things that went bump in the night. Or more importantly, things that went grrrr in the night. Xander braked at a red light, and the sound of the door clicking didn't even register until he watched through the streaked window as Spike strode away from the car, not even bothering to shut the door behind him.

"Fuck," Xander cursed as he threw the car into park before diving out into the suddenly brisk night air. "Spike," Xander yelled as he ran after the vampire, ignoring the VW bus that braked so hard that it slid sideways with a squeal, barely missing Xander as he dashed through the intersection.

"Spike!" Xander yelled louder as he reached Spike and reached out to grab a damp arm. Spike shrugged him off with a violent shiver.

"Bloody easier this way, mate," Spike said as he kept walking without making eye contact.

"You're not walking, not again. Get your ass back to the car," Xander hissed as he trotted to keep up with Spike's wide stride, a sense of panic rising in his throat at the idea of losing Spike. Absentmindedly wiping the rain from his face, Xander reached out again, but Spike took a quick dancing-step forward so that Xander grabbed at air. And Xander really hated vamp reflexes, especially when he didn't have any.

"Better this way, yeah?" Spike threw his still unlit cigarette to the damp grass and kept walking as heavy drops started falling more steadily now. Spike passed through the last streetlight's pool of light and disappeared into the darkness on the other side.

"Like hell," Xander said as he lunged forward and grabbed at Spike's coat, fisting the leather and refusing to let go as Spike jerked him down the street. "This isn't exactly inconspicuous." Xander pointed out. A face watched from the window of some shop with a cheesy Santa in the window even though they hadn't actually gotten through Thanksgiving yet.

"Then bloody let go," Spike said as he unexpectedly swiveled, jerking his coat out of Xander's grip and turning so the two men stood face to face. Xander reached out to touch Spike, and the vampire flinched back. Xander could feel his emotions shifting like a heavy load that someone hadn't tied down, a heavy load that slid back and forth in the truck threatening to tip the whole damn thing into the nearest ditch.

"I'm not letting you go. I already said that," Xander answered as he stood inches from a game-faced Spike. Yellow eyes studied him, and Xander set his face into the closest imitation of Willow's resolve face that he could manage. The rain continued to drizzle, and Xander could feel cold soak into him and rise up from within.

"Soddin'—" Spike paused, and his face ripped back into human features, and now blue eyes looked everywhere but at Xander. "Can't fight a fuckin' five year old," Spike hissed. "I bloody well know you hate my weakness. If ya truly were still the vampire you used ta be, you'd stake me yourself."

"Spike." Xander started to deny it, but then he stopped. He could feel that urge. He could feel the bitter edge of something ugly that wanted to crush the weakness in Spike, but he could feel more from that older set of memories that often crowded his mind. He could feel admiration for a childe who had survived. He could feel a cold fury toward the sheep who thought they had a right to touch the wolf.

Vampires didn't protect the weak, but Spike hadn't fallen in battle. He hadn't proved himself weak. He was young and impetuous and he didn't expect the sheep to organize an attack. Xander felt a rage that made his muscles tremble with the need to fight. Sheep had no right to attack the wolves, and yeah, as one of the sheep, he had completely lost his mind since he fought wolves every time he went on patrol. Well, not wolves wolves, but vampire wolves in the whole metaphor he had going on. Xander shook his head to try and find his own feelings in the middle of the emotional storm.

"You aren't weak," Xander finally managed to say. He couldn’t explain his own feelings, but he knew that was true. "You escaped; you survived. You aren't weak." Xander reached out again, and again Spike flinched back.

"If ya were a vampire, you'd think me weak," Spike pointed out in a far quieter voice than he normally used, the accent softened into something proper that didn't sound right coming from Spike. "But you aren't a vampire, and a few memories don't change the fact that you're still the white knight who'd die for the world. You're going to bloody choose the slayer because it's who you are. Not plannin' on being around to see that."

"Shit, Spike, I'm not going to toss you out."

"Easier this way." Spike turned again, and Xander watched shiny streaks spread down Spike's coat as the rain spat on them. Brushing his own damp curls out of his face, Xander ran to get in front of Spike.

"You're not going anywhere," he repeated as he poked at Spike's chest, at the place where a red shirt hid runes carved into flesh. "Remember me being a bastard and not letting you go? Hello! Still a bastard, still not letting you go." Xander tried to make himself sound confident even though he could feel his stomach churning until he could taste the bile of fear in his mouth

"Run back to the slayer," Spike said in a cold voice before he turned and headed north toward a cemetery.

"Spike, don't—" Xander stopped as the rain chilled air suddenly grew heavy, the air pressing in on him uncomfortably, making him gasp and slowing time. Then lightening flashed across the sky and something magical slipped by him in sticky, jelloy blobs that made patches of skin warm and then turn icy cold.

"Spike," Xander called as he started running. He caught up soon enough since Spike had frozen in the middle of the sidewalk between the Starbucks and the cemetery wall.

"Bugger," Spike growled, the word slurred by fangs, and Xander looked the direction of Spike's gaze. By the time he spotted the figures dressed in green and running toward them, Spike had already dashed past him with his coat flying like a cape.

"Oh shit," Xander agreed as one of the two, a dark mask covering the bottom half of his face, swung one seriously huge gun up toward him. Xander ran.

Spike led the race back toward the car, and Xander dashed after him, his sneakers pounding on the sidewalk with a slapping sound that he could barely hear over the pounding of his heart. Ahead of him, Spike slowed and turned to look behind, and then Spike threw out one arm, his other windmilling wildly as that lithe body twisted. For a second, Xander couldn't decide what Spike was doing, and then Spike collapsed to the sidewalk with a string of curses Xander didn't think were biologically possible. Only then did Xander realize the vampire had tripped in a display of the universe's worst case of bad luck.

Spike sprang back up almost immediately, but Xander had already reached him, and the sound of boots slammed the sidewalk about two inches behind Xander, and panicsville was about a half inch behind that as Xander grabbed Spike's arm and charged into the middle of the intersection. A blue car trying to steer around his precious lady had hit a white van, and both drivers were out and yelling as Spike and Xander reached the car. Someone had shut Spike's door, andXander vaguely realized that people now yelled at him as he struggled to get the key into the ignition. Spike snarled another curse, and Xander looked over to see him standing with a broken car door handle in hand, the passenger side door still closed.

Xander shoved at the key so hard that he had a flash of fear that he'd break it, but it slipped into place so he could turn it and send the engine roaring to life. Just as he reached over to open the passenger side, Spike dove in through the broken passenger window head first, his ass still hanging out the window as Xander threw the car into reverse to get away from the two soldiers now charging into the intersection.

Xander hit the accelerator only to have a truck pull out of an alley and block him in. An angry-looking man in a cowboy hat flipped him off as he barely avoided hitting it. With one frustrated glance at Spike, whose bad luck seemed contagious, Xander considered his options.

"Bloody go," Spike yelled as he wiggled into the car, and Xander bit back a sharp answer as he threw the car into drive and cranked the wheel toward the sidewalk. The car bounced over the curb hard enough to make Xander hit his head on the roof as the dull sound of metal scraping concrete filled the air.

One of the soldiers detoured into Xander's new path, bringing his gun up. With the soldier aiming directly at him, Xander threw himself down onto the seat as he hit the accelerator as hard as he could. The sharp pings of bullets filled the air three times as the engine roared. The car lurched forward, and then the crunch of metal and then a sharp cracking sound, and then Xander sat up in time to see wide brown eyes as a soldier rolled off the car and fell to the street. Xander pulled the wheel to the right as he tried to avoid the second soldier, and he could feel the car bounce over a human-sized bump in the street.

Xander immediately felt like someone had kicked him in the gut. Someone big—demonic big—with big heavy boots that made his stomach collapse into his spine. Moisture blurred his vision and only once the windshield wipers didn't work did it occur to him to wipe the tears from his face. Next to him, Spike pulled himself into his seat, but Xander's mind remained with the soldier he'd plowed into and run over and probably killed. Inside his head, voices battled over just how to feel about becoming a killer for the second time. The only difference was that this time, unlike with Larry, he couldn't claim some spell had made him do it.

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