Spike woke from a restless sleep, immediately checking on the boy in his arms. Xander was sleeping deeply, emitting the occasional snore. Spike gently drew himself away, slowly easing off the bed. He walked around to the other side, kneeling and staring intently at Xander's face. He smiled at the damp patch on the pillow, right under the human's mouth. Suppressing the urge to start stroking those dark locks of hair again, he stood abruptly, moving to the fridge where he'd stashed his supply of blood. Pulling out a packet, he drained it cold.

He tossed the baggie in the trash, the stood facing the covered windows, deep in thought. After an indeterminate amount of time, he heard small snuffling noises coming from the bed, and turned. He watched as Xander buried his head deeper in the damp pillow, then finally pried his eyes open. The boy peered blearily around the hotel room, brow wrinkled in confusion as he tried to get his bearings.

Xander's eyes flew wide when he finally noticed Spike, and a deep flush stained his cheeks. He stiffened uncomfortably, then whimpered softly as flashes of pain flared through him.

Instantly, Spike was by his side, pills and drink in hand. Xander took them gratefully, still not staring into the vampire's face.

Spike sighed. Cautiously, he reached out a hand, cupping it under Xander's chin and tugging the boy's face toward him. "Xan?"

Xander closed his eyes, refusing to make contact. His fingers plucked nervously at the covers, and his pulse was racing.

Spike could smell the embarrassment radiating off him, and he wasn't sure how to make it stop. Taking a chance, he slid onto the bed, coaxing Xander around so the boy's head was pillowed against his chest. "Xan, it's ok, there's nothin' to worry about. What is it?"

Xander shuddered, holding himself tense. He opened and shut his mouth a few times, unable to form words. Finally, he sniffled quietly. "I-I just...last night...and he...then you...I-I--" His breath caught, and he pressed his face into the soft fabric of Spike's shirt.

Spike tightened his hold just a bit, rocking a little as he curled around the warm body in his arms. "I'm not gonna let him near you again, luv. Not gonna let *any*one hurt you ever again. You're mine now, and chip or not, I'll fucking kill that bastard if I even smell him within a hundred yards of you. I'll have him turned if I have to, so I can get the satisfaction of torturin' him while he screams and begs for mercy; keep him in pain for *days* before I finally dust him." His voice was hissing by now, his eyes burning gold as he dreamed of the moment when he would exact revenge.

Xander listened to this impassioned speech in near-disbelief, his brain locked on one word. "Y-yours? Wha-what do you mean?" //Bad, bad, nobody wants me, so dirty, bad.// He shivered.

//Oh, bollocks.// Again, the oppressive scent of misery swirled around Spike, and he held back a snarl. //Damn it, I'm really starting to loathe that smell!// He made tiny 'shush'-ing noises as he kept on rocking, and collected his thoughts. //Well, fuck. I gotta tell him 'bout me claiming him.//

{He'll probably freak. Why would he even want to *be* mine when he just got away from *him*? What'll I do if he wants me gone?}

//It'll just be worse if I don't tell him.//

{But why now?}

//Because I said so, sod it all!//

{Aw, bloody hell!}

Spike sighed deeply. "Xanluv? Got somethin' to tell you."

Xander tilted his head up, finally looking at Spike, albeit with a great deal of trepidation. //Gonna make me leave, doesn't want me, *can't* want me. Dirty, so dirty, can't go back, please don't make me go back!// He could feel himself getting dizzy from lack of oxygen as his breath came in short little pants.

"Breath, Xander. Breath for me." Frowning slightly, Spike rubbed the boy's suddenly clammy arms, wondering what was wrong. "It's just, well the other night, you know, at the clinic?" He winced, realizing he was really not doing this with the greatest amount of tact. He decided to just spit it out and see where things went. "See, I kinda...claimed you. It's, uh, not...official, or anything, but word will probably get around, and it pretty much marks you as...mine." He trailed off in a whisper, hoping that Xander wouldn't take it too badly.

Xander sat in shock, completely stupefied. //Wants...*me*? His? Not leaving?// His brain whirled, trying to grasp the simple fact that someone actually *wanted* him enough to be...protective? Because Spike was. Protecting him. Keeping him away from his father...safe. But...

Spike was relieved when there was no outburst, and Xander's terror slowly faded. But there was still something wrong there... "Xan? What else? I know there's something else. Can you tell me?"

The brunette sniffled, burrowing deeper against Spike. He tried to shrug casually, but it was obvious the vampire wasn't buying it. With a sigh, he whispered, "Dirty."

//Huh?// "What?" Clearly confused, Spike sniffed at the human, not noticing anything overtly offensive to the senses about his condition.

Biting his lip, Xander made himself explain. "Dirty. I can...f-f- feel him. A-all over me. It...it won't go away. Why won't it go away?"

Spike felt like growling again, but figured that might give Xander the wrong idea. Instead, he settled for holding him a tight as possible given his injuries, and rocking some more. "I dunno. I could -- you want me to wash you?"

Xander hesitated, blushing, then gave a small, almost imperceptible, nod.

Swallowing, Spike nodded. "Ok. Stay here." He eased away from the boy and, grabbing the ice bucket, went into the bathroom. He filled the container with steaming water, adding just a touch of soap. Grabbing a bath sponge that was by the tub, he carried it, the bucket, and a couple of towels back to the bed.

"The...the sheets will get wet," Xander stated softly when he realized what Spike intended.

The vampire snorted. "Sod the sheets. We'll call for new ones." He shoved the blanket down to the foot of the bed, then gazed at the bruised human lying on the stark white bed. "Um, can I..." He waved a hand at Xander's clothes, absurdly grateful for the fact that he couldn't blush.

Xander had no such good fortune, and his body was suffused by an embarrassed flush. But he shrugged, remembering that Spike had already seen him totally naked that night in the shower-- He forced his thoughts away from that, and answered in what he hoped was a steady voice, "Um, yeah, sure."

With as much calm as he could make himself project, Spike set the bucket down on the stand by the bed, placing the sponge next to it. The towels were tossed to the foot of the bed. Willing his hands not to shake, he carefully removed Xander's shirt. Tossing it onto the floor, he contemplated the bindings around the human's chest, then proceeded to unwrap them very carefully, hiding a grimace as the violent, purpled mess was revealed.

Moving down, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of Xander's sweatpants, he pausing to look the boy in the eye.

Xander blinked a few times, then closed his eyes, lifting up a little.

Sighing, Spike slid the material down, making sure not to jostle the injured leg. Pants off, he gently lifted the wounded limb, using the softest of touches to remove the bandages there. Then he just sat for a moment, looking at the pale, mottled skin of the human he'd claimed.

Not wanting to make Xander any more nervous, he shook himself, reaching for the sponge. Dipping it into the warm water, he got it wet, then began dabbing at the brunette's face, carefully swiping it over every bit of skin. Down Xander's neck, where he paid special attention to the still-livid bite mark. After washing it thoroughly, he hesitated, then, kissing the tips of two fingers, brushed the fingers lightly over the wound.

Xander's eyes few back open, and he stared at the vampire, who smiled sheepishly, and continued on down to his chest. He watched, incredulous, as the soulless demon ever so gently washed his torso, then sent his kissed-fingers pattering over every bruise. The arms were next, and each injury, no matter how minor, was gingerly cleaned with the wet sponge, then brushed with fingers that were kissed before each touch.

Then the legs, with special care paid to the swollen knee. When those were done, Spike bit his lip, considering, then softly brushed the sponge across Xander's genitals, moving them about so he could get them fully washed.

Xander made no protest, just watched, amazed. He didn't even pause when Spike nudged his hip, just rolled compliantly onto his stomach. He closed his eyes as the soft sponge moved over his back, sending trickles of water cascading down his sides. The backs of his legs came next, and when Spike reached his feet, he managed not to pull away as the soles were tickled softly before being washed.

The only tense moment occurred when Spike moved up again, letting the sponge dance over Xander's buttocks. He could see the muscles in them clench, then relax as the boy let out a deep breath, trusting himself to the vampire's ministrations.

Spike first washed the pale mounds, then kissed all five fingers and laid them over the five finger-shaped bruises on Xander's left hip. He repeated the action on the right hip, trying to keep his motions non-threatening when all he wanted to do was go find Xander's bastard of a father and rip him into shreds for leaving those bruises.

Then, every sense fixed on the boy so he'd know if this was going too far, Spike swiped the sponge down Xander's cleft, darting into the shadowed area between the cheeks. Dropping the sponge to the bed, he carefully separated the boy's buttocks, then kissed his thumb, letting it rest softly on the bruised, reddened ring of muscle for a heart-stopping second.

Xander drew in a shaky breath, but made no movement to pull away.

//Never again, Xanluv. I swear that to you. No one *ever* hurts you again.// Smiling almost sadly, Spike picked up the sponge again and dropped it into the bucket. In total silence, he redressed Xander in clean clothes that he pulled out of the duffel bag, re-wrapping his knee and ribs. Finished, he carried the bucket back to the bathroom, where he emptied it into the sink. That done, he made his way back to the bed.

The sheets had survived without getting too wet, so he pulled the blanket back up, covering Xander again. Dark, chocolate eyes stared up at him, something akin to wonder glowing in them. "Better, pet?"

Giving the vampire a tremulous smile, Xander nodded. "Th-thank you, Spike," he said softly.

Spike grinned, smoothing out the boy's mussed hair. "Not a problem. You rest some more, I'll go get you some breakfast."

~~~~~~~~~~

As one, the Scooby gang -- minus Xander -- piled into Giles' car for the short ride over to Xander's house. The ex-Watcher had protested the need for such a turnout, but Willow's worry for her friend had infected Buffy to a smaller degree, and he'd been convinced to lend his vehicle to the cause.

When they reached Xander's house, Willow vaulted from the car, quickly making her way to the back of the house, where she knocked loudly on the door. She cast a frantic glance at Tara, then looked pleadingly at Buffy when the door refused her attempts to open it.

Rolling her eyes, Buffy shooed the others out of her way, then kicked out, sending the door crashing inwards. Bowing slightly, she gestured for Willow to enter.

The line of people made their way down the stairs, staring around the empty basement.

A gasp from Tara drew everyone's attention, and they followed the direction of her finger to a puddle of congealing blood on the floor.

"Oh, goddess," Willow breathed, then dashed into the bathroom, hoping to find Xander there. A low cry of disappointment informed the others that he was not. She came back out, stricken. "I don't understand. What could've happened?"

Buffy shook her head, glaring around the room. She opened her mouth to answer, but was cut off when the inside door to the basement creaked open, and a large figure holding a bat descended. They all gaped at the man, whose face was a collection of bruises.

"Who the hell are all of you? Get out of my house!" He waved the bat menacingly, drawing attention to the thin red lines crisscrossing his wrists.

"Pardon me, sir," Giles said, "but we're looking for a young man, Xander. Would he happen to be home?"

"Xander? Ha! Last I saw of him, he was waltzing out of here after he and that freaky blonde friend of his attacked me and robbed me blind!"

"I--what? Excuse me?"

"You heard me. Ransacked my hose, and stole my car, too! And I swear, that blonde guy was on something -- his eyes were all yellow, and he had this deformed face. Not that I got to see much of it before he was on me. If he hadn't caught me by surprise, there's no way he could have done so much damage." He glared. "And why am I even telling you this?"

"Woah, wait a second here. Weird blonde guy? And he attacked you?" Buffy stepped closer to the man."

"Fucking sucker punched me, the bastard, then tried to beat my head into the floor." He jerked his chin over at the blood the gang had noticed.

"Oh, good heavens," Giles breathed, looking faintly ill.

"Well, well, looks like somebody got his bite back," Buffy muttered darkly. Raising her voice, she continued sweetly, "Well, thank you for your time. We'll just be leaving now." She ushered everyone back up the stairs and out into the yard.

Willow looked back longingly. "But...Xander?"

"Don't worry, Willow, we'll find out what happened to him." She patted the other girl's shoulder comfortingly. "Spike, on the other hand" she snarled as they all climbed back into the car, "is dust."

*****