Part One
The white mug shattered in his hand when his grip suddenly tightened during the walk from microwave to table. This wasn't the first time Xander had crushed one of his mugs in the two weeks since he had become a vampire, and it probably wouldn't be the last, either. Still, it served as an unpleasant reminder that he wasn't adjusting to his new life as well as he should be. He still misjudged his own strength constantly, as the broken ceramic shards attested. He also had a hard time identifying whether his game face was showing or he was wearing his human mask, and had accidentally scared the shit out of not one, but two pizza delivery people. All in all, vampirism wasn't proving to be the roller coaster of fun Spike had always made it out to be.
Speaking of the blond idiot, the brunette was a little surprised that the bleached wonder hadn't come tearing down the hallway when he'd broken the mug, yelling at Xander to be more bloody careful. That was the way things usually worked since Spike had "adopted" the fledgling as his own Childe, thus making himself responsible for teaching Xander everything the dark-eyed man would need to know to survive. This turn of events had proved agreeable to everyone but Buffy, who insisted that since Xander had a soul, he needed to be taught by Angel. Angel hadn't seemed particularly enthusiastic about the idea (big surprise there) and Xander had responded with an unequivocal "hell no." Since then, it appeared as if the blonde Slayer had washed her hands of the situation, which was fine with Xander. He had begun to notice that whenever Buffy was around he felt little tendrils of panic running up and down his spine. Spike had since assured him that that was any normal demon's reaction to the Slayer. Mortal enemies and all, you know.
The brunette finished cleaning up the mess he had made and got another mug -carefully - down from the cabinet, noting with a sigh that there were only two or three left of the original eight. One of these days (nights, he reminded himself, we do things at night now), he and Spike were going to have to take a thrilling trip down to the local Wal-Mart and buy some more. Actually, the thought of such an outing filled him with *way* too much excitement. (It probably has something to do with the fact that I've hardly been allowed to leave the apartment in two weeks.) Spike had been extra-protective guy the three times they had gone out. Xander was expressly forbidden to go anywhere on his own, and strangely enough he found himself inclined to take orders from the older man. Spike explained that this was because the demon within Xander recognized and obeyed the Sire/Childe bond, even if Xander's soul did not.
Most of the time, Xander tried not to think of those kinds of issues at all. He had pretty much given up hoping that his new vamp state was a dream after the fourth day, but that didn't mean that he was much closer to being okay with the whole thing. It was going to take awhile, he knew, and he just hoped Spike's patience could hold out until then.
As the brunette busied himself with getting another bag of blood out of the fridge, he was suddenly aware that Spike had silently entered the kitchen. Since Xander's back was to the blue-eyed man, he wasn't sure exactly how he knew Spike was behind him, but he did. He would have found the whole incident mildly disturbing if similar things hadn't been happening for the past two weeks. Damn hypersensitive vamp awareness.
"You're going to eat now?" the blond demanded from behind him.
"Was planning on it," Xander replied, popping the new mug into the microwave and pushing the timer.
"Well, hurry up please, it's time to go."
The slayerette froze, staring at Spike as if he had never seen him before. He wasn't sure if it was the notion of leaving the apartment (yay!) or the fact that Spike had just uttered the magic word that was freaking him out, but it was definitely one or the other, or possibly all of the above.
"Go? We're going somewhere? Somewhere that's not here we are going to?"
The Englishman looked at him as if he were an idiot, which he quite possibly was. "We're going to the Scooby meeting tonight at the Watcher's house. I also want to have a little talk with Giles about something." (Read: about you.)
The possibility of not being in the cramped living quarters for a few hours quickly overran any objections he might have had to being discussed behind his back. Pulling the newly-warmed mug out of the microwave, he downed its contents in one gulp and plopped it in the sink. "Ready!" he cried, grabbing his jacket from the back of a chair.
He couldn't help but grin as Spike locked the door behind them.
Part Two
The Scooby meeting, like every one he had been to before it, bored Xander to tears. Mostly there was impenetrable and perplexing commentary by Giles which basically meant, 'I don't know, look in the books.' Research was tedious but familiar, and the brunette soon fell into his long-established routine. He began to notice, however, that though he was acting the same way he always had, his vampire nature severely changed the way that everyone around him reacted. There was an unease in the room, especially on the part of Buffy and Giles, both of whom he caught looking at him out of the corner of his eye several times. On the other hand, Willow and Anya were both going out of their way to make him feel welcome, which was pleasant but still disturbing. What Xander really wanted was all of them to just be normal around him, to pretend that nothing had changed at all.
After a few hours of this, Giles threw everyone out of his house with the promise that they'd pick up where they left off the next night. Spike stayed behind to talk to him, shooing Xander out the door only after the younger man had promised four times to go straight back to the apartment and wait for him there.
The young vampire hadn't gone half a block when he felt an indescribable sense of being followed. Turning abruptly, he spied Anya coming up behind him.
"Hi," she said, uncertainty apparent in her voice.
"Hey," he replied, giving her a smile that he hoped wasn't too toothy.
She gave him a tiny smile in return. "I know we haven't really had a chance to talk lately, and I was hoping now might be a good time...?"
The young man shrugged. "Sure."
"Well, now that you're a demon, I was wondering where our relationship stands. With your curse, I know you can't have intercourse without losing your soul, and I don't really see the point of continuing a relationship without it."
Xander thought about this. "Actually, it's perfect happiness, not sex, that makes me lose my soul."
Anya fixed him with an icy glare. "Are you implying that our relations do not produce perfect happiness?"
"No!" Xander was quick to exclaim. "I'm just saying that...um..." he trailed off, unsure himself of what his point had been.
The silence that permeated the rest of the walk was distinctly uncomfortable.
* * * * * * *
Arriving back at his apartment, Xander paused before inviting Anya to come in. He knew that if she was still there when Spike got home things might disintegrate even more - the blond vampire had begun to show a jealous and possessive side whenever the ex-demon was around even when Xander was alive. Now that the youth was, essentially, a piece of Spike's property, he had no way of predicting what the chipped demon might do.
Anya looked around skeptically once she got inside. "It looks the same," she remarked, sounding surprised in spite of herself. "I thought it would look different."
"Why? Because Spike lives here now?"
Her hazel eyes locked back on his. "Because you're different."
He shook his head. "I'm not that different."
"Really?" She stepped closer to him, invading his personal space. "Are you sure?" Xander didn't even have time to think of a response before he felt her lips press against his.
The wet warmth of her mouth, combined with the soft flesh pressing against his body, were what made Xander forget who - and what - he was. He hungrily returned the kiss, his tongue forcing its way into her mouth. When he felt her hands begin to slide under his shirt and caress his bare chest, the thin thread of his control broke.
Grabbing her head with both hands, he savagely twisted it to the side, exposing the smooth column of her throat. The vein pulsed under his ravenous gaze, and his fragile soul wasn't powerful enough to stop the demon from taking control as his canines elongated in anticipation of the feast.
Later, there would be no doubt in Xander's mind that he would have killed her if Spike's strong arms hadn't interceded, knocking him against the wall. Anya, freed, fled through the open door and into the night. Spike stared after her, then turned toward his Childe grimly. It was time to call Angel.