Janus' Shadow

by
Lit Gal

Part Ten

Xander stood in the middle of his apartment with his legs trembling. Looking from one corner of the room to another, he couldn't even decide what to do or where to sit. He could only feel the shock of the car bouncing over a body and then slamming back down onto the concrete. In fact, he felt vaguely seasick from the motion which still jarred his muscles even as he stood in the middle of his own lair. Behind him, Spike stood silent for once, his hands shoved deep into coat pockets.

"Strip," Xander said harshly. A whispering voice told him to calm down, but the rage of his childe's disobedience and the pain of having killed merged into a wall that shut out the whispering voices. Xander kept his back to Spike, but he could hear the slide of fabric as Spike did as he'd been ordered… for once.

Ignoring the items hanging from the wall, Xander went to the bed and pulled a box out from underneath. Pushing off the top, he considered his options, fingering each as he imagined how they would cut through flesh. He finally picked up a long, thin metal rod. It almost looked like an old-fashioned television antenna until the base where it widened to a thick handle. Xander flexed the metal, testing the give before finally turning around.

Spike stood in the middle of the room, his arms folded over his chest as he watched warily. Xander didn't say anything as he circled his disobedient childe. The runes on Spike's chest showed up nearly black against his skin, and looking closer, Xander could see the uneven edges of charred flesh as though the runes had turned to fire and burned the skin around them. Xander poked at the double cup rune that showed just above Spike crossed arms. Spike answered with a hissed breath.

"You disobeyed me," Xander commented quietly as he stopped behind Spike.

"Just trying—" Spike started to explain himself, and Xander made the rod whistle through the air before it struck Spike's shoulder blade hard enough to make the vampire stumble forward a step and bring a line of angry red to the white flesh. Even though Xander had expected argument, Spike stepped back to his original spot and remained silent.

"You disobeyed me."

This time Spike didn't answer. Xander circled again, and this time he pressed the tip of the metal cane into the charred flesh around one of the runes.

"You didn't think I could hold you. You thought I was weak," Xander whispered. Spike kept his eyes down to the ground, and Xander brought the rod down on Spike's hip hard enough to make a line of bright red spots appear almost instantly. Spike swayed for a moment, but then he caught his balance. Xander couldn't remember the last time he'd seen this body so still.

"You brought the curse of old and powerful gods down onto both of us," Xander pointed out as he walked around to the back again. He watched Spike's muscles tighten in anticipation of the strike, and Xander allowed his fingers to trace the edge of a shoulder blade up to the spine where he then allowed his fingers to stroke the length of Spike's back down to the rounded ass. Under his caress, Spike sighed and corded muscles smoothed out. That's when Xander brought the rod down as hard as he could on Spike's right ass cheek. A single drop of blood gathered at the end of a long red streak.

"Bloody hell, you're the one who cast the mojo," Spike snarled, and Xander added two more stripes below that first. The third one hit where the leg and ass met and left a small trickle of blood creeping down the inside of Spike's thigh. Spike gasped.

"You disobeyed me when you knew the consequences. You angered the gods with your betrayal, and you angered me." Xander swung the rod three times leaving three identical marks on the left side of Spike's ass except that now drops of blood trailed sluggishly down the outside of his thigh. The sight of that deep red bead leaving behind its brownish-red tail stopped Xander, and he reached out. He captured the drop with his finger and pressed into Spike's flesh as he followed it back up, gathering the fluid on his own finger before bringing his finger to his mouth and sucking it off.

Spike's face shifted, the bones of the demon coming forward. Almost silently, Spike sighed, and the cock that had been hanging limply thickened subtly. Xander watched the changes in his childe body. His childe. Spike. The demon didn't fight him now but waited for its sire's anger or forgiveness. Xander could feel the same draw he'd felt for Jalon, his first childe who he had driven a stake through back when warriors still traveled on horses and vampires owned the countryside at night. Xander curled his fingers around Spike's arm and felt the muscles tense under his grip.

While killing Jalon had torn at him as though he were cutting off a part of his own body, the idea of Spike leaving him had ripped at his heart. Of course, some of his love for his childe had died when the ungrateful monster had sided with Dracula against his beloved Nusa. But he felt a passion for Spike that approached his all-consuming love for Nusa. He couldn't let Spike leave. But he hadn't lost Spike; his childe stood silent under his hand.

He moved forward, resting his forehead against Spike's shoulder as he felt the fear of losing Spike go out like the tide. Unfortunately, that left behind the guilt and the pain of his own sins. He'd killed a man. He'd run over some soldier with brown eyes who probably just wanted to protect the world from monsters. He'd murdered a man who had chased them because of Xander's spell. Xander hiccupped as he tried to take a deep breath and push back the pain, the image of the man's wide eyes, the feel of the car jerking as it rolled over the body, the smell of rain and car exhaust heavy in his nose, the sound of distant shouting. He'd murdered.

His fist closed around Spike's arm as he tried to hold himself upright on trembling legs. His eyes felt too large for their sockets, as though they might fall out any second, and Xander closed them tightly against that danger. His whole body jerked with an attempt to hold back a sob, and a cold tear slid down his cheek as he leaned into his childe.

"I killed for you," Xander hoarsely whispered.

"'preciate that," Spike answered, and Xander could tell just from the tone that Spike was confused.

"I killed someone who just wanted to make Sunnydale safer… someone who probably had no idea what he was facing, but faced it anyway because he thought he had to." Xander felt a coldness settle in over him as he imagined a whole history for the man whose body had slid off his car: a family. His head throbbed and he reached up and wiped his nose before he backed away from Spike a step. Slowly opening his eyes, he could see Spike looking at him with his head cocked.

"You backed me into a corner where I had to kill," Xander said in an emotionless voice that made Spike shift his weight from one foot to the other. "You." Xander stopped. He knew he had made the choice; his foot pressed the accelerator. But he couldn't stop his cold rage from drowning out the guilt that had been branded into him by those brown eyes. Spike didn't answer as he watched cautiously.

Xander brought the rod up and slammed it down onto Spike's back hard enough to break open the skin and make the vampire snarl before ducking his head submissively. Xander brought the rod down in another whistling arc that landed just under the last one. Again and again he attacked pale flesh: bruising and cutting with wild blows. One blow hit the back of Spike's knee, sending him crashing to the concrete where he stayed, bracing himself with hands on the cold floor as Xander continued the blows. Drops of blood now flew off the rod to splatter against Xander's face and hands. It felt right. He should have blood on his hands.

"Sire," Spike finally breathed in distress. Xander froze as he looked down at the bloodied vampire with angry welts rising from his skin and trails of blood seeping from him.

"'M sorry," Spike offered to the concrete, not raising his head. Xander dropped the rod which rang against the concrete and made Spike flinch again.

"Oh, god." Slowly, Xander sank to his knees and reached out a hand freckled with Spike's blood. He touched an unmarked spot on Spike's arm and then sobbed so strongly he felt like his lungs might detach from his body. "Oh, god," Xander repeated.

"I'm sorry. Won't do it again," Spike promised as he glanced fearfully over toward Xander. Xander reached out and touched Spike's cheek, leaving a streak of red behind.

"I can't lose you. I could have lost you," Xander whispered as an apology. "I can't. I can't lose you."

Spike slowly uncurled and reached out a hand to Xander's knee. "Still here, pet," he offered.

"They would have taken you." Xander reached out and grabbed Spike, wrapping his arms around the bloodied body so tightly that Spike flinched, and Xander just held more tightly. "They can't have you." Xander hiccupped as he pulled Spike to him.

"They don't have me," Spike reassured him while Xander started rocking forward and back.

"They tried to take you," Xander said to himself more than to Spike who he now rocked. "I couldn't let them." Spike didn't answer, but one hand wiggled out of the embrace and smoothed Xander's hair back, and Xander thought of his mother who had done that when he felt ill… both the mothers.

One had tired eyes and so often smelled of rum and brought him burnt toast and sat on the side of the bed listening to him talk about his latest comic book. The other wore dresses that swished against the stone floors; her fingers would dance through his hair the way they danced through her tapestries, and he imagined she had cried when Nusa turned him. But the fingers weren't his mother soothing away a fever. He'd killed someone. He'd killed a soldier fighting for his country, and now a mass murderer tried to comfort him.

Xander pushed himself up and away from Spike, who sat on the concrete floor naked with his limbs sprawling in the middle of a Pollock painting of wildly flung bloodspots.

"I killed him."

"Yeah, ya did," Spike agreed.

"I killed him." Xander couldn't come up with any better explanation of his pain than that, and he turned his back on Spike, heading for the door to the outer apartment. Behind him, a body shifted. Xander didn't turn around. "Stay in here," Xander ordered before he opened the door and stepped out into the shower of his tiny outer apartment.

Xander turned on the television for noise more than to actually watch anything. He couldn't even really see the screen as he curled up on a corner of the couch staring into the air and hugging his knees. The television created a cone of dim light that hid the shabby couch and made the chair disappear altogether. He could see the dust highlighted in different colors as the picture on the television changed, but somehow the dust and the television and even his own knees didn't feel real. What felt real was the bounce of the car over that body that he could still feel in his bones, only now he could also feel the metal rod in his hand. He could feel his arm still aching as each strike at Spike's back had sent a jarring recoil up his arm.

He continued to stare into space, ignoring the phone ringing and a pounding at the door. With his luck, the police had come to arrest him for hit and run, but Xander didn't have the energy to get off the couch. He figured they could haul him off and carry him to jail because his legs wouldn't get him as far as the door. A small scratching sound at the door finally attracted his attention, and he laid his cheek on his knees as he turned his head to watch the doorknob jiggle. Slowly, the cheap lock on the knob turned to the open position and something heavy pushed at the door. It didn't move.

Xander continued to watch as the deadbolt now shifted slightly. The scratching noise continued for a while before the deadbolt again moved, and Xander watched with the same concentration he used to focus on the screensaver that had the flying toasters or for the metal his father's smith pulled from the fire and hit it over and over, slowly flattening it through sheer determination. Xander vaguely realized that both memories couldn't be true, but as he watched the lock slowly turn, he didn't really care.

Eventually the lock snapped to the open position, and the door opened. Outside, Angel crouched on one knee, a lock-pick in hand. For a long second, Xander just stared blankly as Angel stood up and slipped the tool back into a pouch that disappeared into a pocket. Without a word, Angel stepped across the threshold and closed the door behind him.

Xander had a flash of Angel coming to the apartment covered in black demon tar and laughing about how Xander had literally babbled the Gora to death by distracting it with his patented ramblings while Angel made the fatal blow to the back. At one point in his life, Xander might have felt bad about doing the whole babble and hiding behind a rock part in the fight, but he'd stuck swords in enough demons in his time.

And now he could put a human on the list of his kills. Well, another human because there was the whole Larry incident. And really, he had lots and lots of memories of dead and dismembered humans but not even the priest whose death vampire-him had drawn out for a week could compare with those brown eyes. He couldn't come up with a single excuse for the soldier's death. He'd chosen Spike over a human life, and that had to score high on the damned-o-meter.

"Xander?" Angel asked, and then he stopped.

"Deadboy," Xander answered tonelessly although he hadn't used that particular name at Angel in a long time, even if he did still say it behind the vamp's back.

"What happened?" Angel walked over and sat on the coffee table so that he faced Xander, and Xander watched the chipped wood sag. He waited for the crack that would send Angel crashing to the ground, but it didn't come. A large hand reached out and touched Xander's knee.

"Xander, you need to tell me what happened." Angel's voice stayed low and deep, but Xander still thought it sounded frustrated in some elusive way he couldn't describe. Or maybe he felt frustrated and was passing that feeling off onto Angel.

"Xander, you need to talk to me. Tell me what happened." Large hands now held his upper arms and Xander focused his eyes so that he truly saw Angel now. Yellow bled into the brown of his eye from the edges, and a chunk of hair stuck out at an odd angle. Xander brought his hand up and worked the stray lock.

"I killed him," Xander said softly.

"Spike?!" Angel's hands closed until Xander had to flinch in pain, and then Angel let him go altogether, leaning back on the coffee table until Xander was sure the thing would splinter into a thousand pieces, most of which would end up in Angel's ass.

"No, not Spike," Xander shook his head and looked down at the blood covering his hands. No wonder Angel thought he'd killed Spike. Xander opened his mouth to explain, but saying it would make it real and he couldn't live with having it real.

"Who, Xander?" Angel leaned forward again, and Xander pushed the vamp back out of his space so that he could stand. The room had very little space for pacing, but he made do in the six feet between the tiny kitchen island and the front door.

"Xander?" Angel asked as he shifted from the coffee table to the couch.

"I didn't want to," Xander said softly as he froze in place, and he looked toward the bathroom, toward the door that led to the reason why he would kill a human being.

"You aren't a bad person; I know you wouldn't kill unless you had to," Angel agreed, and Xander focused on the door as he returned to pacing.

"I am," Xander whispered.

"You are what?" Angel left the couch, his movements jerky, and Xander could see in every line that Angel wanted to be somewhere else… anywhere else probably.

"Why are you here?" Xander asked. Up until now, Angel's appearance had been like a nightmare where events don't have a reason. You leave the school and walk into the cemetery. Day turns to night, slayer turns to vampire, and it makes sense because it's a nightmare. He'd lived through a real nightmare before, and this had the same feel. But this wasn't a real nightmare, and Angel shouldn't just appear because Xander was desperate to be alone.

"Spike called," Angel admitted after a long silence. Xander should have been angry, but he couldn't find the energy for that. He settled for a calm sense of betrayal. "He said you'd taught him that vampires don't handle things alone," Angel continued, "which is more sense than I managed to beat in him in two decades."

Xander started to laugh with Angel's dry chuckle, but the sound changed to a sob that he quickly cut off before the emotion could overwhelm him. "Angel, I'm fine. I just need some time," Xander said as he stared at the silver ring around the peephole in his door. "Not a vampire, in case you haven't noticed."

"Who did you kill?" Angel asked as he completely ignore the subtle un-invite.

"Angel, just go home," Xander tried a more direct approach, walking to the door and pulling it open. Outside the rain had passed, leaving slick oil puddles with slimy rainbows dotted across the concrete. The air had the blue haze of dawn, and he realized that Angel didn't have time to go far.

"Who did you kill?" Angel repeated without moving. He stood in the walkway between the closet and the kitchen island like the Rock of Gibraltar.

"Privacy. I know it was a new concept when you were around, but it means you give people space when they need it. Either you're going, or I am," Xander said with his arm crossed defiantly. Angel stared him in the eye for several seconds before sighing. Dropping his eyes and shaking his head, Angel started walking for the door, and Xander stepped to the side to give Angel room. Of course, this put his back to the Barcalounger, so when Angel stopped in the doorway and darted out an arm, Xander had no room to retreat.

Angel kicked the door shut again with a foot as he wrapped his arms around a struggling and cursing Xander.

"You want to fight, fine. But you aren't going to retreat into some hole where you aren't doing yourself any good, boyo," Angel snarled as Xander's struggles took both of them to the floor. Xander tried to bring up a knee, but Angel's weight crushed him to the ground where he couldn't do much more than flop as ineffectively as a fish on dry land.

"You done?" Angel asked.

"Get the fuck off me," Xander snarled right back and doubled his efforts to get a hand free. He started wiggling forward, and Angel got a knee on either side of him, using his leverage to pull Xander back toward him. As his shirt rode up, Xander could feel the carpet burn warm his skin and he resorted to pinching Angel as hard as he could right above the waist of his pants.

"That hurts," Angel complained as he drove more of his weight down onto Xander, forcing the air out of Xander so that all he could think about was breathing.

"Get off." Xander wheezed his words as he felt his brain growing fuzzy.

"Who did you kill?" Angel asked again, lifting himself onto his elbows so that Xander could gasp for air.

"A soldier. He tried to shoot Spike and I killed him. I ran him over. I slammed into him with my car and then I ran him over. I murdered him. Okay?" Xander snapped angrily, and Angel froze in place, allowing Xander to wiggle a few inches toward freedom.

"Oh, Xander," Angel offered with pity as he looked down. Xander chose that moment to drive his knee up between Angel's legs. The brown eyes morphed yellow, and demonic ridges instantly appeared. Angel growled and a large hand closed around Xander's throat. Instantly Xander was back in the mansion with Angelus over him, and he froze in fear. Almost as quickly, Angel let go, sitting up so that he pinned Xander's legs under his full weight and braced his hands on Xander's thighs but didn't hold the rest of him down. Xander struggled up to his elbows.

"Don't you dare pity me," Xander threatened as he tried to kick Angel off.

"Xander. I know how you must feel."

Xander opened his mouth to deny that offer of sympathy, but when he looked at Angel, he realized that the vamp did know. He would be the only person to understand the demonic need to keep Spike and the soul that now condemned him.

"I didn't mean to. Oh, god, I so didn't mean to. Big with the not meaning to," Xander made a sound that stopped somewhere between a laugh and crying.

"I know you wouldn't. They were chasing you. They shot at you," Angel said calmly as he shifted his weight closer to Xander's feet. Xander took the extra space to sit up.

"Spike told you. He called you," Xander felt another stab of betrayal. He shouldn't. He couldn't sire Spike. He wasn't a vampire.

"He said I either had to come fix this or find a way to get your soul out of you so that it wouldn't do this to you anymore," Angel confirmed as he braced himself on the Barcalounger and stood up.

"Not sure you chose right," Xander said as he continued to sit on the floor and stare at the brown carpet with flecks of olive green. His soul clearly didn't have the power to control his urges, so what use was it except for making Xander feel the guilt of his sin? Xander toyed with the idea that all souls were curses, and not just Angel's.

"Xander, you didn't have a choice," Angel said as he held a hand down toward him. Xander ignored it as he rolled to his hands and knees before climbing to his feet.

"I had a choice. I chose to kill someone," Xander told the battered old refrigerator which just continued to whine at him.

"They chose to attack you. They knew you were human, and the Initiative knows that not all demons are evil. They know I'm not evil, so they even know that not all vampires are evil," Angel offered, and Xander snorted in disbelief and then wiped his nose.

"I worked for them in World War II, got a sub away from the Nazi's, a sub full of vampires," Angel said softly. Xander turned to look at him and felt as though the whole universe slipped suddenly two inches to the right. His stomach sent up a warning flare, and Xander ran the three steps to the bathroom, throwing up violently until his stomach ached and his throat burned.

He'd killed. Spike had turned to Angel for help. Ethan was gunning for Buffy. Xander threw up again, his stomach convulsing even though there was nothing left to vomit. The dry heaves wrung his body out over and over as he stared down into the toilet and considered that Double Meat Palace looked about the same when recycled, and hey, just because his life had fallen apart didn't mean he couldn't still crack inappropriate jokes in his head.

Eventually even his body grew as tired as his mind, and the heaving stopped. Xander leaned against the cold porcelain ring. "Push in the panel at the back of the shower," he said, and after a second where nothing moved, and he stared at olive green tile wondering if the vomiting had finally driven Angel away, a body moved behind him. Angel rested a hand on Xander's hip as he pushed into the tiny bathroom. Xander flushed the toilet, and Angel pushed against the shower wall, finding the latch and opening the unlocked door.

As Angel disappeared into his lair, Xander put his back to the cold tile wall and slowly slid down to the floor. He deserved to lose Spike, and when Angel saw what he had done, he thought he would probably pay a little bit more on top of that. He remembered the pain from that night in the mansion; he remembered crying silently as he limped to Giles with each step sending stabbing pain up through his intestines.

Xander braced himself for round two when Angel saw Spike's torn and bleeding body. Despite Angel's protests, he still felt the same sire's instincts toward Spike that Xander did. Unfortunately for Spike, none of his sires seemed very capable of keeping a childe, but if Spike called Angel, Xander wasn't going to argue. After the beating he'd just given Spike, he didn't have the right to argue.

Another wave of dizziness flowed through him, and the feeling of being in that bouncing car returned as Xander closed his eyes and actively searched for the darkness that crept at the edge of his awareness.

Part Eleven

"If you wake him up, I'll rip your bollocks off your Irish hide," a voice snapped from some distant place that didn't quite make sense to Xander who sat on a rock at the bottom of the ocean playing with the seaweed that flowed around his naked ankles with slimy fingers.

"Watch your tongue, boy," another voice answered, and Xander was fairly sure it wasn't the clam even though the clam's dirty, white shell clicked open in time with the words. A flat wall of glass sped toward him and pushed back the water in an invisible wave. When he dug his fingers into the rock to keep his seat, the glass wall hit him in the nose hard enough that Xander's eyes watered as he now looked out into the Sunnydale night.

"Not your boy, now am I?" The first voice now sounded entirely too pleased with itself, and Xander put a hand up to the glass that kept him from warning a girl with a blue backpack that a monster walked two steps behind her, his black, snaky body arching up and over her so that his mouth dripped right over her head, but she still sauntered calmly through the dark.

"William," a voice threatened.

"Oi, you're thick as shite, aren't ya? Not William any more."

Xander ignored both voices as the girl turned and opened her mouth so wide that it became a cavern that she snapped over the snake monster, swallowing him whole. Xander pulled his hand back from the glass where he had been pounding, trying to reach her. Even though he stopped hitting it, the glass started shattering in a beautiful cobweb pattern that made the barrier groan and shriek.

"Just go sit down and stop pacing," the clam said, its shell flashed opal rainbows when it opened.

Xander watched as air started hissing into the water creating an ever-growing cloud of steam inside his water world. He tried to step back, but he found that the universe ended just behind his heels. The cloud of air sucked up more and more water. Xander opened his mouth to explain why air and water shouldn't act like this, but the cloud sucked the water from his own lungs.

"I'll pace if I want. It's our soddin' flat, and you're the guest here."

Xander tried to tell Spike to calm down because he sounded cranky, but the cloud pulled the water from his lungs like a scab separating from the pink skin underneath.

"And you're disturbing Xander," Angel growled. Xander wanted to watch the clam, but the air had churned the water white, and he couldn't see beyond his own nose. And really, something was truly wrong with this picture.

"Not like he isn't disturbed already, is it?"

Xander struggled to pull air into his lungs as the last bits of water fell from his mouth in phlegmy strings.

"He's just upset."

"Upset that he saved me. Upset 'nough ta sit in the dark for hours with his heart poundin' half out his chest. Don't tell me that doesn't sound a little balmy."

"It sounds normal for someone with a soul. Isn't that why you called me?" Now Angel just sounded tired, and Xander shifted restlessly, his body trying to cough even though he couldn't find the energy to truly move.

"I called ya because I'd already had the hide stripped from my back once for not askin' for help. But I meant what I said: You figure out how to fix that soddin' soul or I'll make it my bloody mission in life to get the thing out of him."

"Don't push it, William," Angel's voice had a dangerous calmness to it, and Xander realized he was in bed with a sore throat and aching stomach that left him feeling like ground zero of a nuclear attack.

"Won't let it rip him apart."

"And I won't let you hurt him. If you turn him or manipulate him, I will rip your intestines out before I slam a stake through you."

"You don't have the knackers for it, Peaches. Ya couldn't do it before, and ya won't now."

"Oh Spike," a low laugh made the hairs on Xander's arm stand up even as he cracked open his eyes. "You never did understand me."

"And that's score one for uncomfortable de-ja-vu-age," he hoarsely whispered as he watched the two face off just like a scene from his nightmares. The only difference was the setting because this level of Spike and Angel snarling definitely need the Crawford mansion for the backdrop. "I can't leave you two alone for a minute, can I?" Xander croaked his joke even as his sore body tried to curl up in remembered fear. The two vampires who had been standing chest to chest in the middle of the apartment took a step back away from each other before turning to him.

"Not like I want to be alone with the wanker," Spike said as he stepped to the bed. Sitting on the edge, Spike sprawled against the headboard, one foot on the ground and the other bare foot braced on the mattress so that the knee bent up in front of him.

"Spike. You okay?" Xander struggled up onto one elbow, pushing the bedcovers away as he reached out to touch his childe. He could feel a need to touch and hold after the anger of earlier. He couldn't decide if his vampire side needed to remind Spike of the benefits of submitting to keep his childe in his place or if his human side just needed to make up for the beating. In the end, it didn't matter. Xander let his finger slide up the smooth skin of Spike's back and find the raised welts hidden by the black t-shirt.

"Bloody brilliant. Feel like givin' the ponce a show?" Spike answered as his own hand ran down Xander's shoulder. Xander shivered as the slow touch of a fingertip over his back and the expression on Spike's face told him what he needed to know. Spike was fine.

"You didn't call Angel as your sire," Xander said as he smiled slowly. Spike physically jerked back for a moment so that the headboard shivered with a metalic rattle.

"Bloody hell, no way I'd ever call the wanker my sire. No fuckin' way," Spike agreed, his eyes flashing yellow.

"Yeah, that makes sense now that the brain is more with the think," Xander admitted softly as he felt his cheeks turn hot. Nice. Nothing like blushing like some girl to make a man feel all manly.

"Ya thought…" Spike stopped, and then a slender hand reached up and tugged a messy curl before trailing a finger down Xander's cheek to the curve of his neck. "If ya think I'd let Peaches near my arse, your brain really was addled," Spike agreed.

"Xander, are you ready to talk about what happened?" Angel took a step closer, his boots silent even on the concrete floor.

"Um... no?" Xander asked.

"Ta ducks," Spike said to Angel who didn't move. "Toddle off to L.A. like a good wanker," he sneered.

"Shut up, Spike," Angel answered as he stepped closer. "Xander, you sat staring into the dark for hours without moving. You were…" Angel paused and made a helpless gesture toward the bathroom, "and you were unconscious for the better part of the morning. Spike may not understand how to help your soul, but he called me for a reason."

"Called ya 'cause I couldn't see the slayer taking the news too well," Spike offered under his breath.

Xander looked from one to the other as his vampire side whispered the truth. Spike had called Angel for him. Spike tried to save the sire that had beaten him bloody... the sire who had stopped when Spike begged... the sire who valued him enough to keep him. Xander felt the ache in his eyes as he remembered how he'd begged his own childe to come to Nusa's aid. He remembered seeing that long face smile viciously as his childe ignored him. He remembered seeing Dracula stand by as Nusa's sisters ripped at her. He remembered the frantic need to get to Nusa and protect her.

Instead, he'd stood in the shadows, trapped by his sire's orders to never stand within Dracula's sight. He remembered that pain above any beating or torture Nusa had ever inflicted in her attempts to teach him some control. And then he'd done the same to his own childe. He'd left his faithful childe alone in an apartment unable to help his sire. He'd forced Spike to call the only person he could, even though he probably hadn't wanted to. Xander reached up and put his hand on Spike's chest, waiting until blue eyes turned toward him.

"Thank you, childe," Xander said softly. Spike's sneer slipped away, and Xander could see the confusion and worry. "I shouldn't have forced you to stay in here," Xander admitted, and Spike's expression grew even more confused now.

"Xander, you need to talk about this. Do you even know if the soldier died?" Angel leaned back against one of the corner shelves and crossed his arms.

"Um, hello! I hit him and then ran him over. I think it's safe to say he's dead, unless he was a demon, and wouldn't that just be ironic." Xander turned to face Angel. Funny—he'd wanted Angel back in Sunnydale for months, but now as a soldier's brown eyes flashed across his memory, he just wanted Angel gone. He pushed the heel of his hands into his eyes to try and block out the memory. Unfortunately, the red and yellow dots behind his eyelids just merged into an imitation of that same image.

Xander felt Spike's hand briefly touch him and then withdraw. "I'm fine," Xander assured the nervous vampire, and he would have found it ironic that Spike was doing the freakage, but he remembered that helpless rage just too well.

"Xander, what else could you have done?" Angel asked softly.

"Um, gotten shot," Xander answered quickly. Spike growled. "Gotten Spike shot," he added.

"And if the Initiative had killed you and taken Spike, what good would have come from that?" Angel asked. Xander snorted and pulled his hands away from his eyes.

"The world would have been safe for Twinkies and those mini-chocolate donuts with the sprinkles," he offered with a grin.

"Ignoring this won't make it go away."

Xander snorted so loudly that he had to wipe his slimy nose with the back of his arm. Scrambling over Spike, he padded barefoot across the floor, grateful to at least have jeans on. "No offense, Angel, but you aren't exactly good advise-boy on the issue of guilt," Xander pointed out as he headed for the small corner bathroom in the opposite corner. "It's not like you're big with the facing your past, so I figure I can bury guilt just as well as you." Xander detoured around his couch and wondered why he'd never had the sense to add an actual door to the bathroom. He stood in the tiny triangle room, looking at the mirror and not wanting to take his jeans off with Angel still in the lair. Bad memories there. Bad kneeling on stone floors and sobbing until the dust turned to mud memories there.

"Maybe I'm not the best at facing my..." Angel paused, "problems." Xander snorted again because he could practically hear the word "demon" in that pause. Oh yeah, he wasn't even the biggest head-case in the room. "But I know how not to handle this," Angel continued. "You can't ignore your feelings."

"I really am not in the mood," Xander said as he turned on the water, splashing some on his face and then cupping his hand to slurp water into his raw throat.

"Xander, even Spike knows that your soul is hurting right now. Let me help."

Xander leaned against the sink and stared at his own image in the mirror. He talked to the pale creature whose curls stuck up around his face. "I need time to think without you sitting on top of me," Xander said. "Figuratively or literally." Scrubbing his face with his hand, he struggled to find words that would send Angel away.

"I know I need to talk about it, and I'm big with knowing that I need to talk to someone who has a soul, but I need time to sort out my own thoughts first." Xander waited for some sort of answer, but the room remained silent. He sighed. "Look, if I don't talk to you later, you have my permission to kick my ass, but right now, I just need time."

"So, would later be a big dinner tonight?" Angel asked.

"Not up for the social thing, especially not with the blood sucking social thing."

"Since today is Thanksgiving and Giles has invited all three of us over there--" Angel stopped and shuffling feet scraped the concrete. Spike issued a quiet "Bloody, fucking hell," and Angel just made a strangled sound that was either a reaction to having to face Buffy or an attempt to not yell at Spike.

"I'm thinking that's a three-way 'no' to dinner," Xander said as turned and took the two steps to the archway of the bathroom where he could look into the rest of the room.

"I'll face Buffy if you face your friends. You can't hide this without tearing yourself to pieces." Angel stood next to the sofa, his thigh leaning into the leather and his arms still crossed. Spike had his arms crossed in a look of defiant anger as he sat on the opposite end.

"Oh yeah," Xander said sarcastically. "That'll go over good. Buffy's killing herself over that whole perfect holiday magazine cover fantasy, and in the middle of her Martha Stewart mashed potatoes, I'll just announce that I'm a murderer." The last word came out a little strangled.

"Oi, that might actually be a bit of fun, then," Spike said as he suddenly sat up with a cheerful expression. Xander gave a half-hysterical bark of laughter that sounded way too much like the long-exorcised hyena.

"Fun. Right." Xander looked at Angel who definitely looked ready to smack Spike. "But if I have to go to the gallows for dinner, I am claiming my right for some serious private freakage, so Angel, don't let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."

"You can't--"

"Not listening," Xander said as he stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming. From the expression on Angel's face, Xander suspected that the vamp said something offensive, but then he just shook his head. Angel turned and left while Xander continued to hum loud enough to make the sound echo in his head. As the heavy door swung shut, Xander took his fingers out of his ears.

"Bloody brilliant, mate," Spike offered, and Xander smiled. Spike opened his mouth as though he was going to say more, but he didn't. Instead he sprawled across the couch, one arm resting on the back and the other on his thigh.

"I'm fine Spike," Xander said as he headed for the refrigerator. Pulling open the door, he stood in the cold river and looked at the plastic-wrapped yellow cheese in perfect squares and half-eaten macaroni in Tupperware and two hotdogs mummified in the packaging that had once had 12 identical sticks of meat. For some reason, he found himself surprised to see everything just the same.

"Xander?" Spike's voice pulled him out of his refrigerator-induced trance.

"You know that pull you feel toward your sire? Where you feel like their life is your life?" Xander felt the pain of Nusa's death, and the cold air around him suddenly smelled of dust and cave mold. He remembered holding Nusa's ashes and feeling like he had died with her.

"Yeah," Spike answered slowly and softly as though he didn't want to say the words.

"It's like that. When one human kills another, it's like sliding a stake into your sire."

"Bloody--" Spike stopped in the middle of his own curse.

"Or maybe it's like killing other childer of your house," Xander amended himself. As much as some Sunday-school version of himself wanted to feel worse about the soldier, he could still feel Nusa's death more sharply. He glanced over his shoulder to see Spike's reaction. Spike cocked his head in confusion now.

"Wouldn't have minded takin' a stake to Penn m'self," Spike said without hesitation.

"Um, killing a childer of the house that you like?" Xander added. Spike continued to stare at him. "Okay, there's no way for me to explain except that it feels like staking your sire only not so bad, and now I'm feeling bad about not feeling bad."

"Soul makes ya soddin' nuts," was Spike's proclamation. "That Ethan, if he can get out a chip, he can soddin' well get out a soul. No soul, and you won't feel that. Better yet, let me turn ya. I'll make it feel good," Spike's strong arms wrapped around Xander's waist, and part of Xander wanted to be weak. He leaned against the open refrigerator, the squish insulation under his palms, and part of him wanted to tilt his head and let go of the guilt. Spike's weight against his back promised to hold him up if he just gave Spike permission to take over.

"Why don't you try and force me to?" he asked instead.

"Oi, not looking to get another headache on top of the striped back," Spike answered with a snort of laughter.

"You're stronger. I'm tired. Why don't you try?" Xander pressed. The fingers that had intertwined at his stomach now separated, and he felt Spike step back.

"Just feels like it would go all pear-shaped if I did." Spike's voice had a slow, cautious tone as though he were walking a tightrope over sunshine.

Xander closed the refrigerator and turned to look at Spike who had a confused expression on his face again.

"And because I have a soul, I feel like giving it up would be wrong. Major wrongage. The big jackpot of wrong. I know you want to fix this, but I just need to feel bad because I did something I shouldn't have done."

"For me," Spike said, and where a human might have looked guilty or pained, Xander watched as Spike slowly smiled, his hips tilting to the right salaciously and the tip of his tongue appearing at the corner of his mouth. Yeah, that wasn't guilt. Not on the same planet with guilt. Not even... Xander ran out of metaphors.

"I would do it again if I had to; that's what Angel was trying to get me to see. The only other choices were more wrong than the wrong I did."

"Yeah? So the great dobber isn't upset that ya offed the soldier boy?"

"Oh, he's probably going to add an extra year of brooding over how he somehow caused the whole mess from L.A., or how he shouldn't have let me take you in or how he shouldn't have let Dru turn you or something. Hell, I think he still feels guilty for the whole crusades thing."

"Yeah, that's Peaches." Spike smiled viciously. "Those gypsies knew how to make a curse."

"But he knows it was a better choice than us getting killed or captured or me running down some poor schmuck standing by his car." Xander stopped again as he leaned back against the refrigerator. "But it still wasn't a good decision. I should have known you would react like that. I shouldn't have taken you with me. Or maybe I shouldn't have invoked Janus in that spell because he can be big with the unpredictableness. I definitely think he made things much with the worseness. That wasn't bad luck; that was like life-ending horrible, terrible, very bad, not good luck."

"Oi, ya sound mad as a bottle of chips," Spike pointed out, and Xander laughed.

"Yeah, but I go sounding all weird and then no one listens to what I say, and then they don't notice that I'm kinda not always well centered." Xander stopped the minute the words had escaped, and even though he hadn't ever said it to himself, he realized it was the truth. He played funny-sidekick boy, and no one looked for him to be anything else. Okay, after the whole book of spells Giles gave him, he might not be fooling everyone, but he had the whole thing down well enough for Buffy and Willow.

"That why the slayer hasn't picked up on the fact that ya have about as much vamp in ya as Peaches?" Spike asked, and he stepped forward again, letting one hand rest on Xander's hip as he pressed in. Xander leaned back against the cold refrigerator and allowed Spike to press into him. "That why she doesn't see ya?"

"Um, yeah. I mean, she never really did see me like I wanted, not when I was crushing on her or trying to out-hero Angel, and now that I don't want her to see me, it's really not hard to still be the high-school loser around her.

"I see ya well enough pet, and I may not understand the soul, but I know you're a right bastard to cross and ya have enough mojo to curl Peaches' precious hair. Still wish you'd let me take the soul out, but even with the soul, you're vampire enough." Spike started rubbing a thumb into the tender skin above Xander's hip, and Xander groaned and let his head fall back against the refrigerator.

"I'm really not in the mood," Xander protested as his cock swelled.

"Figured I'd take your mind off it. 'sides, you seem in the mood to me," Spike suggested as he leaned his weight into Xander's crotch.

"Hey, I can't be held accountable for what my body thinks; I'm a teenager," Xander made a weak complaint. However, his hands reached up under Spike's shirt. He could feel the swollen skin in a pattern of intersecting lines, and he pushed a thumbnail into the edge of one. Spike growled and lowered his head to Xander's neck, scraping dull teeth over the skin until Xander made a pretty fair imitation of a growl himself.

"Bed," Xander hissed as he pushed against Spike. His legs still felt wooden, and with his hellcat's ability to make him weak in the knees, he didn't trust himself to finish this without falling on his face. Spike let himself be pushed back, but he never lifted his head from the earlobe he now assaulted with his teeth and tongue. With not-so-gentle pushes, Xander maneuvered them both to the bed.

Part Twelve

Xander felt hands slide up his back, scratching lightly so that he could feel his skin come alive by inches.

"I'll make ya forget, mate," Spike promised in a low whisper as Xander backed him to the bed. That made Xander pause. Now Spike's mouth nipped at Xander's bare neck in supplication, and an electrical charge ran through Xander's body, triggering both lust and a frustration that slowly grew out of Spike's assumption that he needed distracting. Of course, he did need distracting, but that didn't matter as much as Spike assuming that he did.

Xander stepped back away from Spike, his hands wrapped around Spike's upper arms to keep him in place.

"I don't need you to help me forget, childe," Xander warned, and Spike's hip, which had canted out at a salacious angle, slowly straightened so that Spike stood up, his head lowered a little in a look Xander had learned to associate with confusion. Xander ran his hand over the fabric of Spike's shirt. The silk flowed under his fingers, cool and smooth, and he slowly popped one button after other open to reveal the strong chest below.

"I'm not so weak as to fall apart," Xander said as he popped open the last button and pushed the fabric open. He wasn't sure he believed it, but he said it.

"Never said--"

"Hush, my hellcat. You do get yourself in trouble with that mouth of yours. We'll have to find something to keep it busy," Xander ran his thumb over Spike's lower lip, and vampiric ridges pushed to the surface, skin stretching over inhuman angles. "Strip," Xander ordered, and Spike quickly popped the button of his jeans open, the slide of a zipper filling the silent room as Xander walked to the weapons rack tucked behind the bed.

So many days he'd wandered the demon bazaar choosing one item after another, dreaming of what he could do. Now as Spike moved to obey his orders, Xander pushed away everything except the power that settled around him as he searched through chains and scabbards in his quest for the long straight board near the back of the triangle shaped space. The plank, with its heavy bolts on either end, had mage charms that made it damn near unbreakable. Xander pulled it free and turned to find Spike leaning against one of the bed poles.

"What now?" Spike asked, his cock already half full and hanging heavily. Xander didn't answer, but walked to his childe and grabbed the back of his neck, claiming Spike's mouth in a heated kiss. When Xander pulled back, Spike was more than half hard and taking small panting breaths.

"My hellcat does know silence," Xander observed as he walked to the empty center of the room and dropped the board to the concrete with a dull ringing sound. "On the floor," Xander ordered as he turned back to the racks on either side of his bed to find the right type of shackles. He wanted something Spike would feel if he tried to fight. He finally chose iron chains with no padding.

When he turned around, Spike sat near the charmed wood plank, leaning against one knee while his other leg bent up so that Xander could only see a hint of cock. Xander stopped to just look at his strong childe: long muscles curved into each other, yellow eyes watched attentively, slim fingers twisted and tapped in constant motion.

"Plannin' on doing somethin' then?" Spike finally asked, stretching so that his full cock bounced a bit and his head fell back against one shoulder. Xander could almost feel his own inner vampire struggling to drop fangs. He could practically taste his childe's blood in his mouth: salt and strength and fury and iron. That taste had faded in the years since the spell, but now Xander could feel the thick substance in his mouth and sliding down his throat, the memory of it made him long to claim, to take, to own.

"Lay down," Xander ordered curtly as he walked over and knelt next to Spike, arranging the plank. Spike gave a dirty leer and lay back, spreading his arms so they lay on the board. In a silence broken only by the rattle of chains, Xander quickly chained each of Spike's wrists to the metal bolts in the ends of the board. When he stood up, he could hear wood groan as Spike tested his bonds.

"Mage charmed. Fight all you vant, my hellcat, you vill go nowhere," Xander promised as he went for more supplies. Chains rattled and wood groaned. Xander smiled.

"Not plannin' on going anywhere," Spike finally answered.

"And again vith the mouth. You are not good at silence, are you my hellcat?" Xander asked as he returned with various supplies tucked in a bag where Spike couldn't easily see them. "Surely I can find a better use for it."

Xander straddled Spike and then slowly opened his jeans and pulled himself out. He moaned as he stroked himself slowly, his fingers tracing the vein on the underside of his cock. Spike moaned too. Slowly, Xander knelt so that he crouched over Spike's head, his cock dangling out of his jeans. He shifted forward so that his cock barely touched Spike's chin, and then he leaned back on his heels and watched Spike's hands flutter closed and the muscles in his arms and shoulders bulge as he strained against the restraints.

"Vant something?" Xander asked, amused. Spike glared up at him, his sexy smirk replaced with one of frustration.

"Not 'specially," Spike said as he pulled his mouth into a tight pucker and looked up. Xander laughed.

"My hellcat." Xander ran the back of his fingers down the side of Spike's face before bracing his hands on the concrete and bringing his cock to Spike's mouth. As he expected, Spike opened. Lips sealed around the head, and Spike started sucking. When a tongue pressed into the slit, Xander nearly came. Instead he closed his eyes and panted as he struggled to regain control.

When he opened his eyes again, he found Spike's head tilted back a little as Spike looked up toward him. Xander's cock still within his sucking mouth made his cheeks swell, but even so, Xander swore that Spike smirked even with the cock in his mouth. "Cocky little bastard," Xander whispered, and the suction on his cock increased as another inch disappeared into Spike's mouth. Now Spike's cheeks bulged out and Xander closed his eyes before the sight made him lose control.

Xander couldn't wait any longer. He pulled his hips up so that his cock came out of Spike's mouth, precum staining Spike's lips as the vampire tried to hold his treat. Then Xander thrust down. The edge of a tooth slid the length of his cock, tracing a line of fire, and Xander growled his need as he pulled back and thrust again, and again. Below him, Spike could only writhe, his own arms spread wide and useless as Xander used him. Finally, Xander felt the pressure explode down his spine as he stiffened and came.

Spike noisily sucked under him, and Xander trembled. Then he collapsed, throwing most of his weight to one side where he lay crushing Spike's arm with his hip. Spike's head turned so that he could keep sucking at the limp cock. Xander wanted to push Spike away from the overly sensitive skin that burned and ached with each touch, but he couldn't come up with the strength to protest as he lay with his naked chest pressed against the cold concrete.

Long minutes, Xander floated even as the concrete crushed his hip and Spike's teasing made him shift uncomfortably with a painful heat that seemed to circle his hips. Eventually Xander's hand fumbled its way to Spike, gently pulling the cock free from greedy lips.

"Taste bloody good," Spike commented smugly, and Xander could hear his childe's arrogance at making his sire come so quickly. With a struggle, Xander pushed himself up onto his knees and tucked himself back in.

"Greedy childe," Xander accused him as he trailed fingers up Spike's stomach to a nipple. "How much control do you have?" he asked curiously. He knew he had very little control around Spike, but then he could always claim the weakness of a teenage body that seemed entirely too eager.

"You're a Master Vampire in your own right, even if you are my childe, so how much control can you claim?" Xander rolled a nipple between his thumb and finger, watching as Spike threw back his head and twisted his body as much as he could with his arms stretched. Again, the sight of that exposed neck made Xander flash on the memory of strong blood filling his mouth.

"I think we'll find out," Xander said as he shifted to one side of Spike and pulled his bag to his side. From out of the black sack, he pulled two red candles: fat pillars of wax with thick wicks. "Spread your legs," Xander ordered with a tap on Spike's knee. Without hesitation, Spike spread his legs, his full cock now resting on his stomach as he exposed himself.

Xander put a candle on the inside of each of Spike's thighs so that Spike couldn't close his legs without knocking over the candle. Spike watched suspiciously as Xander pulled out a match and ran it across the side of the box. Fire flashed and a bitter odor filled the air.

"Best be careful or you just might get burned," Xander warned as he lit the two candles. Xander could see Spike tense at the presence of fire. The way the light flickered and reached for dead flesh sent fear rippling through the vampire memories, and Xander could see that same fear reflected in every line of Spike's body. The thigh muscles strained away from the flame, and Xander took a moment to stroke the stiff leg.

"Have you done anything to warrant fearing me?" Xander asked quietly. Spike's eyes bobbed between Xander and the flickers so close to his flesh. Xander waited. Many vampires, Nusa included, would fill a room with candles to prove their control, but the demon never stopped flinching. Spike's gaze eventually settled on Xander.

"Don't think so," he finally admitted carefully. Xander stoked the tense thigh under his hand. Some days he wanted to dismantle the entire Aurelius clan. He allowed his fingers to simply trace invisible lines as Spike slowly relaxed.

"I am not Darla. I won't turn on you without cause," Xander said quietly. "I staked my own childe for abandoning my Nusa and leaving her to die when I ordered him to her side, but short of betrayal, I will never destroy you," he promised. The leg relaxed more, but Spike's eyes continually returned to the flame now sending islands of heat across his ankles. Xander passed his own hand over the flame, and felt his skin crinkle before he took it out and sucked the slightly burnt finger into his mouth.

"Hurt you a little maybe, but not maim or destroy you," Xander added after he popped the finger out of his mouth.

Reaching into the bag again, Xander pulled out a small bowl and vial. As soon as he uncorked the bottle and started pouring, the strong smell of alcohol drifted out into the room. "Wait here," Xander said with a slap to Spike's hip before he got up and went to the kitchen. When he returned with a bowl of ice water and a foot long wooden match, Spike was straining at the board and breathing loudly. Such a strange habit for a vampire.

Ignoring all that, Xander took a square of cloth from the bag and draped it over the edge of the bowl so that the fabric soaked up alcohol as he arranged himself with all his tools in hand. Slowly, he lifted the alcohol-soaked fabric and traced a circle on Spike's stomach, and now that stomach rose and fell in staccato breaths. Xander stuck the phosphorus head of the match into one of the pillar candles, and the match flared to life. Spike jerked.

One of the candles rocked as Spike's ankle tapped it, and Xander sat with the match in hand, watching as the candle steadied. Only then did he bring the match to Spike's stomach. The slight pause allowed most of the alcohol to dry, so only a faint blue glow chased around the flammable circle. Spike hissed his breath in through clenched teeth, and a few faint hairs curled and withered with a bitter scent. Even though Xander was prepared to catch the candles as Spike fought, the vampire's legs remained steady and the pillar candles continued to burn.

"My beautiful hellcat," Xander murmured as he ran a thumb over the fire's trail. He could still feel a faint trace of heat remaining. He picked up the alcohol soaked fabric again and traced a squiggle line from between the nipples down to the belly button. The match had died, and Xander put the wood end into the candle flame again, and this time he touched the alcohol's path much more quickly.

The flame leapt across Spike's body in an impressive line, gathering speed until it reached the belly button where the pool of alcohol fed a blue flare rising inches from Spike's body. With his hand, Xander wiped the flame from Spike before it could burn him more seriously. One of Spike's heels rose and then hit the concrete in an almost spastic jerk before his knees locked.

Xander picked a floating ice cube out of the white, plastic bowl and traced the line down Spike's chest. When he reached the belly button, he swirled it around the smooth flesh before reaching down to suck the water back out of Spike's navel. Using his tongue, he explored the curve of Spike's stomach and the line where soft skin turned to the slick of the burn. Spike hissed again, and even though every hiss sounded pretty much the same, this time Xander could feel Spike struggle to control himself through the pleasure.

Backing off a little, Xander blew across the damp skin and watched Spike's skin rise in a mountain range of bumps. Xander could feel Spike's cock twitch and brush his cheek as he explored the width of Spike's belly with his mouth. He used his tongue to retrace the fire's path north until he finally ended up between Spike's nipples. Then he lifted his head and looked Spike in the eye before leaning over and biting a nipple hard enough to taste a hint of Spike's blood.

The body below him arched off the concrete, and Xander quickly glanced toward his hellcat's feet, but Spike's legs remained open and didn't even touch the candles.

"Such control," Xander praised as sat up. The body which had tightened into a coil relaxed at that word of praise. Muscles that had stood out in sharp cords melted back under the skin.

Xander picked up the alcohol soaked cloth again. Spike's vampire ridges fell away so that blue eyes watched, the demon controlled and caged within. As reward, Xander pressed his thumb into the head of Spike's cock. The game face hovered just under the surface making Spike's face shimmer and then it sank back down under the human features. Xander slowly trailed the long, wooden match above Spike's body just close enough for the vampire to feel the heat as small bits of ash dropped onto the pale skin.

"Truly a Master Vampire. Can you feel panic clawing at you like a hungry animal?" Xander asked curiously. Spike didn't answer, but his eyes fell closed in a show of trust that made Xander want to rip into Spike's throat and then offer his own in return. Since that couldn't happen, he picked up the alcohol-soaked cloth again.

Xander traced a swirling pattern on Spike's chest and almost immediately touched the match to the wet trail. The fire raced along Spike's body, reducing a few thin hairs to ash curls and glowing brightly. Xander watched the blue heat devour the alcohol and turn the skin red. Then he drew his hand through the flame, pushing it out of existence. With his hand on Spike's chest, Xander felt the hot flesh and the rapid movement as Spike gasped broken breaths. A foot bumped one candle, and Xander watched as hot wax splattered onto Spike's ankle. Immediately, Spike threw his head back and arched his neck out invitingly.

Since Xander couldn't effectively bite his childe into submission, he did the next best thing. He dropped down and sucked Spike's cock into his mouth. Spike growled a long string of syllables without actually forming a word, and the board under his arms creaked loudly as Spike's whole body convulsed. One foot kicked so hard that a red candle flew across the room and slammed into the wall between the living room and the kitchen, scattering drops of red wax in a fan shape across the concrete.

Xander abandoned Spike's cock and snatched the second candle before it could follow. Blowing out the flame, he then concentrated on the feel of Spike's cock against his tongue, filling his mouth as he tried to hold down a thrashing vampire. Spike thrust wildly upward into Xander's mouth only to have Xander pull back so that he always had just the head in his mouth. Reaching down, Xander grabbed a tight curl and yanked firmly. Spike made a strangled sound, and thrust even higher, his heels braced against the concrete and his back arched.

Xander took more of the cock into his mouth and wrapped a hand around the base of it, squeezing as Spike thrust up once more and then started coming. With heavy spasms shuddering through him, Spike spurted several times and then collapsed back to the concrete, his mouth sagging open as he breathed heavily. Xander wiped the back of his hand over his mouth and chuckled.

"So much for having more control than me," Xander said, fully expected a smart-ass reply. Instead Spike lay silent and possibly boneless, even his hands motionless in their shackles. Xander stroked the vampire's side, tracing the outlines of the runes which had lost their blackened edges. "Nusa used to play this game when I was young," Xander said as he shifted around so he could lay next to Spike. He wished they were in the bed, but fire and bedding hadn't seemed very mixy.

"Lucky you," Spike finally answered after several minutes.

"I vas," Xander agreed. "I played with Jalon, but he never could control the demon. He never lost his demon's face when I played with him."

"He the one you staked?" Spike asked, but Xander couldn't hear any suspicion or wariness, just curiosity.

"Igen," Xander agreed.

"He didn't soddin' deserve ya," Spike complained without energy.

"I don't know about that." Xander pulled the shackle key from his pocket and reached up to Spike's wrists. Reaching over to unlock the far wrist, Xander caught a strange expression on Spike's face.

"He bloody well shouldn't have turned on ya. If you ordered him to Nusa's side, it was his place to turn to soddin' dust before he left it."

"But he didn't, did he?" Xander pointed out. "Should does not matter. In our world, the only law is to be strongest, and I wasn't. My childe feared others more than me, and my sire died for it." Xander finished unlocking the second shackle and then sat up and crossed legs as he played with the silver key.

"Not your fault." Spike pulled himself up so that he sat facing Xander, who only made a short derisive bark of laughter. "Bloody hell, Peaches staked his own sire and still explained it away."

"Nusa died, and I sat in the shadows watching," Xander said as he turned the key to catch the glints of light from the track lighting in the kitchen.

"You watched?" Spike said, his voice growing loud.

"She ordered me to not let Dracula see me; she didn't order me away, and I wouldn't leave her. I thought…" Xander stopped and swallowed. "I thought Dracula would punish her for defying him. I thought he'd hurt her and then accept her back like a thousand times before. I wanted to be there."

"But he dusted her," Spike finished.

"He let his other brides do it for him, and I stood by helpless." Xander could feel his chest ache with loss. "I failed."

"Seems like you followed orders."

"I failed. I failed my sire, I failed Jalon, I failed Buffy," Xander whispered the last part. "I failed Giles."

"You bloody saved the world; think that puts you right with the slayer and the watcher."

"I killed someone. Think that puts me wrong." Xander looked up at the ceiling for a second as he pushed back the tears that threatened.

"Not like I can talk on right and wrong, here," Spike reached out, resting a hand on the wrist that twisted the key right and left. Xander looked at his childe, "but I don't see the wrong in defending what's yours."

"Yeah, vampire logic. Slayers aren't big with the vampire logic," Xander dropped the key. "And hey, I'm fucking up with you right now. You need a strong sire, and here I am telling you what a fuck up I am." Xander shoved Spike's hand away and stood up. For a second, the world tilted around him, and he stumbled back only to find Spike's hands at his waist.

"I may be your childe, but I'm a Master Vampire in my own right. Not goin' to confuse grievin' with weakness." Spike's hands pulled at him. Xander fought the embrace, but the hands that held him were too strong, and he could feel a rage at his own weakness rise in his chest. He'd never really been fond of himself, but Xander really resented the fact that he hated himself.

"It is weak," Xander said as he pushed at the arms holding him.

"It's bloody human," Spike corrected him.

"Yeah, you see, human. I'm human; you're vampire. And never the twain shall meet." At Xander's words, Spike's arms tightened until Xander found himself crushed to Spike's chest.

"Wot? You sayin' you want me out?"

"What? Shit! NO! Okay, that did actually kinda sound like that, didn't it?" Xander struggled to turn and look at Spike, but the arms around his waist held him so tightly that he could only look over on shoulder. Yeah, he obviously wasn't tracking well, and now Xander's guilt at screwing Spike up equaled his frustration at himself for not being strong enough to physically overpower Spike. And really that was just stupid since he could order Spike to let him go, but Xander had decided that his vampire brain had a few logic holes.

"The brain got sucked out somewhere over there," he tried joking, but Spike just tilted his head again.

"Not lettin' you go," Spike finally answered.

"You see, you should want to. I don't want you getting the fuzzy, dirty, linty end of the lollipop again, and you should run like hell. Wait, you did try running like hell," Xander corrected himself. "If I was a decent sire, I should let you run. If you stay, I'm going to fuck up and do something that gets you dusted, and I'm terrified because I don't know what I'm doing." Xander stopped. "God, can we just stop talking before Oprah comes out of some closet with a camera crew and starts asking about our childhoods?" Xander pushed away again, and this time Spike's arms released him.

"Our childhoods?" Spike echoed.

"A bit complicated in my case what with the whole son of a Duke who I disappointed by growing up to eat him instead of taking over the castle as was traditionally expected. Of course, I could go with door number two where I just told Tony Harris what he could do with certain pieces of his anatomy and offered to make a demonstration if necessary. Yeah, let's not talk family," Xander finished as he sat on the end of the bed. "See, nice pattern of failure there."

"Failure?"

"Yeah, like when Giles thinks I'm a good guy and I—" Xander stopped again and blew air out his mouth as he tried to get that emotion back into the 'yes, it happened but we will never speak of it again' box. It was a pretty damn big box, but not quite big enough. Xander felt his chest tighten.

"You're strong enough to do what ya need to," Spike said carefully as he walked over, stopping right in front of Xander.

"And now I'm confusing the hell out of you with the irrational crying over things I can't change."

"Not like I haven't been there." Spike sat on the bed, making the whole mattress tilt.

"I can't—" Xander stopped since he had no ending for that sentence. He remembered the shock on the soldier's face as he slid across the hood. Xander felt tears start. "Can we just have sex again because the whole talking about our feelings… I can feel myself turning into a woman." Xander took a deep, staggering breath as he tried to stop the tears.

"Won't find me turning down a good shag," Spike agreed.

They sat on the bed in silence, and Xander stared at his hands. A small brass clock on his desk make a clicking beat, and Xander moved his stare to the concrete floor as he traced the tiny cracks. Spike shifted on the bed. Xander sighed.

"God, I'm losing my mind," Xander whispered to the air.

"Bloody hell, pet, not like I haven't been there, too."

Xander felt a strong arm curl around his shoulder, and he allowed himself the weakness of leaning into that strength. Then Spike used inhuman strength to pull both of them up and onto the bed where he curled around Xander. Arms and legs and thighs pressed into Xander, and fingers made dents in his skin. Xander settled his head on Spike's shoulder.

"I shouldn't. You need—" Words failed.

"Shhh," Spike crooned. "Dru used ta cry about her mum and her da all the time. Get to cryin' until she forgot what she was and tried ta go spinnin' into the sunlight. 'Course, that's not the best example of it bein' okay seein' as how her grief made her a bit off her rocker."

Xander hiccupped as he lay in Spike's arms, the grief so overwhelming that for one blissful moment he felt nothing before he could feel the pain settle around him. The image of the soldier rolling off his hood played in his head over and over. Spike's arms held him closer, and he could feel Spike's.... Xander considered what to call it. Despite what Angel and Giles had always said, he still thought he could feel Spike's love.

"I near crawled in a bottle and died after that soddin' spell ended," Spike said softly. "Felt so bloody alone with Dru nattering on about 'Daddy' and the minions not havin' a brain among 'em. Woulda cried 'cept one of the minions would have taken it as an invite to stake me."

"God, I'm sorry." The first true sobs escaped Xander as he considered how badly he'd failed, both as a White Knight and as a sire.

"Don't be. I was so bloody angry, I would have broken your neck if ya tried to keep me. And at the mansion... I wanted to bloody rip you apart. You reminded me of what I'd lost when Peaches went and got the soul. You reminded me and then ya went and got a soul of your own." Spike sighed and went silent for a moment.

"And then I saw ya standing there refusing to be humiliated even by Angelus. Ya smelled of fear and death, and you had the great wanker's scent all over ya from where he'd pawed at ya, but you stood there and made a play to save the world. And when I touched ya, you still wanted me. Could smell it even under the fear." Spike's hand slid up Xander's back, fingers following the line of the backbone up to the neck as his other hand worked the button and zipper of the jeans. Xander lay there and let tears run down his face for the soldier and for Spike and for himself and what he suffered that night after Angelus took him back from Spike.

"I don't know what to do," Xander admitted, a small part of him growling at the admission. He could feel a coldness settle into his bones, like ocean water stealing the heat of his body on a November night.

"Just let yourself grieve, and I'll take care of ya. Later, we can go to dinner and devil the slayer into givin' herself a stroke," Spike said, and strong hands pushed at the jeans until they lay together, naked limbs tangled. Xander lay in Spike's arms as the vampire started rocking. A dam broke and now the sobs came one after another, making his whole body heave. Spike's fingers dug into his skin and held him together as he cried.

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