White Marble

by
Josie_H

Part Nine

Xander wandered in and out of consciousness, sleeping for much of each day and struggling to concentrate when he was awake. His concussion had been “serious” and his other injuries troubled him when he was up and about… The local doctor visited daily and Davina and Helena took it upon themselves to check on their friend morning and afternoon, taking him food and fussing regards his well being. Xander felt humbled by the generosity of spirit and said as much to the women.

He was strangely emotional in the wake of the accident, and became quite teary as he told Davina and Helena just how much he appreciated their help, and the friendship of Helena’s husband and all the village and, and, and… The ladies were understanding, motherly and accepted his near desperate thank yous before feeding him and tucking him back into bed.

And each night, as the sun slipped over the horizon, the angel stepped from his prison.

It was two weeks since the accident and tonight his charge was still sleeping, so he shook out his wings with a massive shiver of white. He tidied the house a little and refilled Xander’s carafe of water by his bed. He sat for nearly an hour simply holding the brunette’s hand as the invalid slept on.

As Xander’s eyes flickered open once or twice, Spike leaned over to kiss the man and whisper reassurances. Eventually, he gave in to the nightly instinctive tug he had felt ever since the hospital. He checked Xander one more time then stepped out into the night and took off as was now his habit.

Spike was drawn to those in the most distress and without thought flew high and fast to the places he was most needed. Two nights previous, it was a car accident – the vehicle had spun out of control and hit a tree. Just before the fuel caught fire, he lifted the two unconscious and injured figures free. An anonymous call to the police saw them tended to.

Tonight it was an elderly woman, a favorite grandmother in the village. She had been unwell of late, yet few knew. Around one in the morning a massive heart attack struck. Her body arched with pain and lungs filling with fluid. She prayed, and he felt the tug.

Spike could do nothing, it was her time – just as the coroner would later determine – no one could have. The aorta had ruptured and death was inevitable, even had she been in hospital at the time. But what the coroner didn’t know was that in Maria’s last moments, she felt cool hands stroking her face, heard a soft baritone voice comforting her, and had no more pain. As her sight faded to black and spirit left, she had turned to a very real angel, felt loved, and smiled her thanks.

Spike returned to Xander’s home exhausted. His beautiful owner (for that was really the situation – Xander had bought him) was still sleeping. Spike simply lay alongside the man, his wings covering them both and promptly fell asleep.

He woke some hours later just before dawn, to desperate sobbing and gentle stroking of his face and hair.

“Oh god… Oh god… I wish you were real… I wish you were real… I never told you Spike… we were always… then I never told you!!!...”

Spike simply took Xander’s hand and kissed it… Then rose and kissed him on the lips.

“Real as can be, given the circumstances, pet.” Then kissed him again and let his wings open and fanned them as he allowed full body contact become a front on front full body caress.

Xander had been having strange dreams for weeks and since his injuries, nightly, but now to feel and see ‘for real’ was beyond comprehension.

Spike’s hand slid down and the human was swiftly brought to conclusion as a deft hand found just the right rhythm and mouths opened to allow tongues to tangle and caress.

Spike also found climax, only to realize that was the first time in… he was no longer sure.

As morning approached, he returned to his prison, but this time the statue’s eyes were closed and a permanent tear was tracking down the exquisite face.

Davina noted the difference as she let herself into Xander’s home – but discounted the observation as a silly notion, figuring she had simply not noticed before.

Xander’s arm and shoulder improved, his ribs knitted, and concussion mended slowly but the latter still saw him exhausted for much of each day. He went back to work half daily on the building site and helped the fishing crew once a week.

But nightly… nightly he had a visitor, a stunningly beautiful visitor. And slowly but surely, after his wider duties, Spike’s attentions to his friend pushed toward full ‘relations’.

For some weeks Xander discounted the vision of the beautiful man with the face of his former friend and wings, as one of the bizarre fantasies indicative of his concussion and recovery… he imagined one, then two fingers penetrating his rear and another hand tugged him to completion – with his permission. In the haze he had no idea it was real so simply felt and loved then slept.

As he fell into slumber he whispered “God I wish you were real… I love you… I really do… I miss you so much and I love you Spike…” And with the final declaration, Spike watched in wonder as the low pedestal he had been forced to grace for more than three years… disintegrated into dust.

He was free, but Xander was now working three days a week and easing his way back in to working life. Spike was unsure how he might fit into his owner's life.

The angel sat at the end of Xander’s bed and waited quietly as the man began to stir.

It was day time, and the angel was still ‘real’. The groan and roll over signaled consciousness and Spike braced himself for the reaction. He wanted Xander to see him. As it was daylight there was no option to fly freely without someone noticing … though if he got high enough quickly enough… the thought had been discounted almost as soon as it had occurred.

Xander was still half conscious as he turned to his lovely, ‘imaginary’ friend he recognized from his most wonderful concussion dreams.

“Hey sweetheart…”

Spike leaned forward and kissed him firmly on the lips before answering the now very confused man, “Hey yourself.”

Xander knew he still ‘wasn’t right’ but as his head cleared a little, the angel in the bedroom was a genuine cause for alarm. He scrambled backwards until pushed hard against the headboard of the bed. He dry washed his face then tried to refocus on the impossible.

A stunningly beautiful man with brilliant white wings that would have made any archangel proud, was sitting at the end of his bed and had just kissed him… and that angel had the face of an old friend… a friend he had fantasized about more than once in the last four and a half years… a friend that had… died.

“Oh Spike!!! Am I… dying? ‘cause obviously you’re…”

“Not dead, nor dyin’ pet… Courtesy of your wish though, ‘m a real boy, so if you’re serious about the lovin’ thing, ya might have to put up with a bloke with wings if that’s alright with you…”

Xander turned away for a moment to desperately search under his pillow until he found the feather. The other two were in pockets of his favorite jackets. He stroked it a little, causing Spike to shiver very obviously. Xander’s eyes went wide, “Oh my god! They were your feathers… I didn’t… jeez!!! Then you’ve been…”

“Here all along pet, just no way of telling ya until now.”

“But you were…?”

“Turned, chipped, ensouled then burnt up and spat out as a ghost. Only to end up workin’ for the grandesire ‘imself before bein’ dusted for the second time… ‘s what ya get for bein’ a bloody white hat apparently! Then bloody Powers screwed me over again… deserved no doubt given me former history… but stone and cold and… bloody hell purgatory of a whole nother level. Figured it was fer good ‘course. Really did.” Spike looked at his hands and Xander saw the wings droop a little with the sad thoughts. “Then you… and with the hurt… and then… your wish… twas you pet… just need to let ya know… It was you! Me? Know I’ve got a purpose nightly but you freed me for the days… for you.”

Xander noted the progressive drop in tone as the synopsis of close to a hundred and fifty years was conveyed and the rather hopeful ending, but really wasn’t listening to the words… He was watching the stunningly attractive face as a crystal tear made its way down a pale cheek. He noted the perfect study of a male nude sitting on the end of his bed and the unconscious unfolding of the extraordinary wings as Spike came to the end of his story and brightened. Xander had no more doubts. He might still question his sanity, his religious beliefs, his orientation… everything really! But there was no doubt that he was entirely enamored by the angel… an angel that was solid and within touching distance!

As he reached out in wonder to stroke the incredibly soft feathers of one wing, and instantly felt sadness and resignation and love flowing from this pale form. It was all received it at such a gut level that he too shed a tear. And the more he saw, the longer he thought about it, the more he considered the experiences of the last weeks he had interpreted as dreams, the more he realized his own deepest feelings.

He was utterly in love with an angel! Spike… the angel. It was ridiculous and wonderful all at once. Sanity be damned, all doubt flew out the window as the winged figure leaned forward and he was kissed hard and fast and this time he reciprocated consciously, deliberately, and absolutely as their tongues dueled and explored and caressed. Xander’s eyes went wide as he watched the magnificent wings extend and begin to undulate in time with their oral exchange.

He felt the angel’s hardness against his own, pulled a small bottle from the side drawer and took a risk. He swiftly slicked himself thoroughly then slid a slippery hand down the former vampire’s manhood before guiding it to its logical resting place, and accepted the coupling.

There was Xander and there was kissing and then there was warmth and tight and subtle squeezing and rather incoherent expressions of encouragement and love and joy. Spike found his wonderful human’s erection with his left hand and tugged him to completion just as he filled his partner for the first time.

A half hour later found them lying facing each other and stroking down much loved faces and forms in post coital relaxation, Spike shivering with delight every time one of Xander’s hands ventured to touch wings.

“I just… you are so beautiful… Gahhhh I bought you because you were so beautiful… and now this…” Xander stroked the feathers at the edge of Spike’s right wing again in wonder. “How did I come to deserve this?”

“You freed me pet… that’s a whole lot o’ deservin’ in my book.”

It was midday on a Tuesday and they were still lying on the bed, simply enjoying being, when the banging on the door pulled the two from their quiet reverie. It suddenly occurred to Xander that a male partner might be tricky enough to explain in the small Italian town… but an angel? Straight jacket may well ensue!

Spike smiled at the worried look on his companion and swiftly tugged on a pair of Xander’s old sweat pants, and long fisherman’s jacket, then retreated to the tiny back garden to enjoy the sun. Xander answered the door. It was Davina checking on Xander as usual, she knew he was back at work but still worried.

She bustled in with a basket of fresh fruit and large freshly made loaf of bread and made her way directly to the kitchen. She noted its immaculately clean state and worried a little. He was definitely much thinner than when they had first greeted the American, but chose to say nothing.

“Now I know Illias isn’t expecting you to work ‘til Friday but it’s his birthday tomorrow and his wife is planning a surprise party so I’ve spoken to Petros and Julius… and frankly, we need a foil… just wondering if you’d be up to giving him a hand with the nets – at least the repairs, I know you’re still out of any heavy duties with the shoulder?? The other boys will be able to get away if you’re there… Now I know it’s an ask at such short notice – but we want you at the party too and it would be ever so terrific if you could, you know, play along, just for an hour or so. Then his wife’s going to give him a call for lunch so you walk home with him. Simple!”

What with everything else that was going on, Xander simply nodded his agreement and hoped that Davina wouldn’t…

“Ooohh I see you have a friend over! Well come on! Introductions!!” The woman hurried outside to meet the slim man with impossibly handsome features. Spike turned as the rather buxom English woman announced her presence with the creak of a much needing oil back door.

Xander was on her heels but too late to stop the meeting, so chose to beg Spike with his eyes and hope to heaven something happened to the wings as Spike had pushed off his jacket to enjoy the early afternoon sun. He needn’t have worried, they were invisible to the intruder.

Davina was enchanted by the young englishman, though a little puzzled by his accent, it was classic upper class but the words modern. All doubts were discounted however when he smiled at her and touched a hand. She felt instantly warm and strangely compelled to find her husband and let him know just how much she loved him.

Spike was charming and fascinating to the truly generous lady. He had seen her kindness to Xander and knew that the seemingly ‘gossip’ laden conversationalist had a heart of gold. He felt it… knew it… and was beginning to know that now that skill, along with heeding the call of the needy, was something to be used.

Later in the conversation, Davina saw the loving look directed to Xander as she chatted easily about “London and the merits of visiting rather than living there”. She smiled knowingly to herself. The man had never once made an effort to take part in the Gajeta night life as one would expect a single young man to do. He was obviously into art and had always had many female friends and disastrous early experiences with women. There was also a late night conversation at some point about an older man and also a couple of male friends who had died, one very recently.

Conclusions drawn she knew the difficulties in the staunchly Catholic village for those who ‘batted for the other team’. She decided quickly, and took Xander by the arm as she made her way to leave.

Speaking low and conspiratorially, she collected her now empty basket and offered advice. “Now I may be speaking out of turn, but my darling… I do congratulate you on your choice of partner, he’s just… well very lovely.”

Xander pulled away a little in shock. Was it that obvious!? “But I… umm...”

Davina patted his arm, "It’s fine honey… Well fine with me anyway. But just be careful if he’s here to stay … Goodness knows what people would say if they knew the truth.”

Xander blanched, then realized the scope of what she was talking about, so simply said, “Yeah goodness knows…”

That night, however he was kissed and caressed to sleep and would worry about the 'implications' later.

The sky blackened around ten, but some boats still headed out.

Xander was sleeping safe in his bed but Spike remained alert, the tug was too strong. The angel headed out into the torrential rain.

Part Ten

Instinct took over as Spike flew upward to escape the downpour, then headed out high above the clouds.

The call was desperate and from a voice known to him. Illias’ boat was struggling in the rough seas but worse, his son’s boat had hit a shipping container, a random and potentially deadly item in the sea for any smaller vessel. The high seas found them struggling anyway, and before they registered the larger object, were upon it, on it, and punctured by it.

The young captain was still at the helm despite two of his crew desperately trying to deploy a life raft. As the young fisherman sent the distress message, he also prayed for his crew and his father, and his father’s crew, and his mother and his wife and his son… and all the while trying to manage a boat that was obviously destined for the bottom of the ocean.

The crew had called to him desperately but in the end had to make a decision as the fishing boat leaned dangerously then was hit by another huge wave. There was no choice – the small escape vessel launched itself, leaving the captain behind.

Yanos was still desperately trying to control the lost boat, as a fourth huge wave hit. The angel picked his moment. As Yanos was shocked by another wave the angel landed. Spike’s wings seemed impervious to the soaking rain as his bare feet landed softly on the badly listing boat. He plucked the young captain from the control cabin now filling fast with water.

The trip to shore was the first of many for the night. He left the bewildered man on the shore of Gajeta then went back to find his colleagues who were bobbing around in their life boat in horrendous seas. He found the rope and began to tug them toward shore, knowing full well that the final landing might be a ‘bit rough’ if beaching in the current surf, but managed to pull them just inside the sea wall. They were duly found and rescued.

Spike then went back for Illias’ boat. The old man had already started back to shore by the time he arrived. The difficulty was the ridiculous size of the waves and their erratic nature. Illias knew his boat and these waters but this was just crazy. They had taken two hits from breaking waves almost thirty feet high, he was fairly certain his wrist was broken, he had heard the mayday from his son but had not sighted their vessel – merely saw the flare. He was in as much trouble and with all the best intentions had no hope of helping. So he prayed.

Illias was not a zealot, but certainly took his religion very seriously, so when he fancied he saw an angel land on the rear of his boat, just prior to the waters around them calming enough to allow him to make a run for home, he didn’t question – merely thanked and prayed and thanked and headed back to port. It was his sixtieth birthday the following day. If an archangel was necessary for him to spend that with his wife then so be it. Illias’ two crew members were desperately tying things down and tethered to the rear of the boat, would endorse his miraculous story later, but for now they were all focused on escaping the wild seas.

As Illias’ boat pulled into port and rounded the sea wall, he turned and would later swear that he saw the angel clearly as the pretty male took off toward the sky.

Three more boats were returned safely to port before an utterly exhausted Spike made his way back to Xander’s home only to land a little too heavily in the back yard and collapse face down under the small lemon tree.

Xander stirred, registering that his dear friend was not in his bed, and heard the odd thunk outside. He rose to find the nightmarish image of his dear angel face down in the back yard, and not moving.

It was a critical situation, he could see that, so despite a still mending shoulder, Xander careful to gently folded the wings then lifted the smaller man and carried him inside, directly into the bathroom.

Spike’s wings were sodden, his face covered in dirt courtesy of the landing, but also utterly drawn with fatigue. He was ice cold, had cuts and bruising all over his body, plus rope burns up his arms that cut far too deep for Xander’s liking – but one could hardly attend a hospital with an angel in tow. Xander placed him lovingly on a towel beside the ancient bath before turning the faucet and beginning to fill said item with as much hot water as his little heater could produce.

Belatedly he worried how feathers would go if thoroughly submerged. He need not have worried.

Easing the dear friend into the warm water he noticed tiny bubbles surrounding the perfectly white feathers, feathers that seemed to have escaped the dirt of the fall or soiling at any point.

Xander gently sponged the wounds and wiped clean the face of his beloved. That really was how he saw Spike now… his beloved. He then lifted the sodden angel from the bath, again careful to contain the lax wings of his unconscious friend, and lay him in the centre of his bed, uncaring of the damp as he retrieved a towel from the bathroom.

As Spike returned to consciousness Xander’s first touch elicited a knowledge of where his charge had been and what had been ….done… and for whom… and Xander loved him all the more. Spike woke on a comfortable bed as his wings were being stroked dry, which was so extraordinarily stimulating that he contemplated mentioning his difficulty, given that he was face down with an erection pushing hard against the bed. But then strong, familiar hands began to massage the base of his extra appendages and rub liniment into stiff shoulders and a sore neck, and an aching back. And then oil was added to a tired lower back and tight hamstrings and everything seemed to relax at once and the hand with the oil found its real mark as he groaned his approval and lifted just a little to indicate his need.

Xander saw the response and shifted around to simply add a finger find the spot and tug his lover to completion before watching him fall asleep and the majority of wounds close over and heal.

Xander woke the following morning early to a panicked phonecall detailing the events of the previous night. The surprise party was still on but plans had changed as the majority of Gajeta’s fishing community and many others were to attend church and give thanks for the safe return of so many of their husbands and sons.

Xander looked through the door to his own bed and remembered the warmth of those wings over him the previous night, and despite the injuries, the love and caring they engendered.

Part Eleven

Wild stories were apparently being told all through the town of the angel of mercy answering prayers for help, to the point where the local priest had even called the Vatican to ask for advice.

They were rather disparaging and Father Andreus struggled with the rather offhanded response.

The reports he had of the angel were so specific and rescues did seem incredulous, then came other stories of elderly folk, the sick, and distressed also seeing the angel in the previous months! The priest finally gave in to popular opinion and held a service of thanks. All who had been visited, had prayed for help, and if it was collective hysteria or urban mythology, who cared. His church was full, and the people apparently safe and appreciative.

Xander went to the service at Maria’s insistence – and despite his lack of Catholic background, was genuinely moved. It was all in Latin but his command of Italian now gave him at least an inkling and the man accompanying him was the focus for the thanks.

As he listened to the testimonies, it was not just he, but also Spike that moved uncomfortably. There were countless acts of heroism and kindness over the previous months, culminating in the miraculous rescues and consequent church service.

Spike’s wings were concealed under a large seafarer’s coat, and further disguised with a glamour, but the angel was beginning to cry as the congregation stood to line up for communion.

“Please luv… we need to go.”

“Not now!”

“Xan we really do… my wings…” Xander could see the edges of large wings beginning to emerge.

“Oh heck sorry!”

“No… I‘m sorry pet just… nowadays when they all pray and sing and… No control… ‘m just a minion for the whoever… doin’ my bit. But can’t do this… can’t hold on when they all do this!” Tears began to stream down the angel’s face, “With the prayin’ and such… s’ not for me anyway, and me… just tryin’ ta do the right thing… didn’t do it for the thanks! Let’s go pet… please… let’s just go.”

As others in their row stood to file up and take communion, the two made their way quietly out the side door nearest them, and as the service continued the two men retreated to their home high up the hill.

Illias’ birthday was that evening and Xander still had a role to play in that, but for now (after checking for any possible observers), he spread a rug in their tiny courtyard and pulled his angel into the walled garden. He stripped them both then pulled his extremely upset partner down to lie in the sun.

“Why Xan? Why all this?… All I did was answer the call… that’s all! Anyone would have… You would have if you could hear it… just that the bloody Powers touched me… and I don’t mind… I really don’t, but then all this!! And the praying and the whole bleedin’ angel the savior thing. I’m a bloody ex-vampire, ex-ghost, ex-human with a murder record a century long and poetry career that probably killed someone of boredom before that! And then nothing and now they think I’m some sort of divine superhero… Well I’m not! I’ve got no control over it Xan… It’s what I have to do… It’s like breathing when you’re alive – there is a need and you do that’s all! And all these people… do they understand that there comes a time when I can’t save them? When all I can do is ease their way? Do they understand that?! And what then – their own particular faith is again questioned? Couldn’t save Anya, or some of the girls, couldn’t save your eye… or Charlie… or Grandsire… Bloody hell couldn’t even save meself! Awww Pet! I just…”

Xander didn’t fail to note three feathers falling from his friend’s wings as upset led to tears of frustration and grief borne of his new role as well as that of old.

Xander lay on his back and did the only thing he could think of, he pulled the smaller man across his chest, welcoming the huge hitches as the proud man, the angel, gave in to the hug and to desperate tears. Without comment Xander began stroking the powerful wings and running his fingers rhythmically through silky hair until the angel relaxed and despite the occasional residual hiccupped cry, fell into a quiet slumber in the late afternoon sun.

As the sun fell behind the building in the late afternoon and the temperature dropped, Spike stirred and Xander woke from his light sleep. The two rose in rather a daze then wandered inside to fall onto their bed and tug a cover over to snooze in a side by side embrace for another hour or so, before Xander rose to lead his sleepy loved one to a warm shower.

It was as though Spike was in a trance, he followed Xander into the bathroom, his slack wings dragging slightly on the floor, then stood compliant as he was lovingly sponged down, had his hair washed and his wings squirted with fresh warm water.

Afterwards they were again lying on their bed, but this time Xander recognized the desperate fatigue for what it truly was. Each rescue, each kind act sapped the life force of his darling. The angel did not eat to Xander’s knowledge – at least he had never seen him eat anything but hadn’t questioned it until now… and began to wonder. There were certainly no fangs so blood was probably now off the menu, and his dear love seemed not to crave for anything but contact and comfort, and yet even as a vampire he had sought out human food.

Xander left his half asleep companion to find the kitchen and cocoa and sugar and milk, and returned to the bedroom with a brew worthy of Joyce Summers. It brought on not thanks but another flood of tears. Xander all but threw down the mug on the side table before pulling his dearest into his arms in a tight hug as sobs wracked the lovely form.

“I’m sorry honey… I’m so sorry… I just thought it would… Ahhh geez I have no idea… But please sweetheart, you’re so tired and I… here… just let’s just lie here, together OK?”

The angel did as asked and after many minutes lifted his tear streaked face to a worried human one.

“I… um… sorry… ‘s just…”

“Shhhh, c’mon… shhhh” He stroked the defined cheek bones and began to caress the wings again, “I don’t know how to help? Can I help? What can I do Spike… Will? What can I do?”

“Oh Pet… just be here… just be here and the hot chocolate... [hic] Thanks… she was a gracious Mum to us all Pet… even a sodding vampire! Best hot chocolate in the world and a true lady to boot.” More tears ensued but this time muffled in his lover’s chest. “I’m OK… really. You can [hic] let go, I’m OK.”

“No you’re not and you know it as well as I do, and I’m not going to let you go until you feel you can drink that,” Xander pointed to the cup, “Or tell me something I can do to help you because an exhausted or expired angel – no good to anyone!” Xander lifted the cup of sweet chocolate drink and offered it to Spike as though he were a tiny infant. Gentle sips eventually turned into long drafts as the angel's cool pale hands covered the calloused and tanned ones of his carpenter friend holding the cup.

It was as though a switch had been flicked. The instant the warm liquid was finished, Spike fell into unconsciousness. There was little Xander could do but lie him on his bed… now definitely their bed… and cover the amazing form with a large down filled throw before he headed for Illias’ birthday (well and his minor role).

He still had the job of keeping the man occupied for an hour or so. He knocked on the door of the tidy cottage close to the water with a request that Illias come up to his house to advise on the possible fruit and vege patch in his small backyard. Illias, priding himself on the cornucopia of produce during the year from his own was thrilled, after the rather lengthy – but necessary – church service.

Illias took no notice of the closed bedroom door and occupied an hour with ease as Xander genuinely became excited by the prospect of producing his own ‘fruit and vege’! What also engaged the younger man was, as always, the fisherman’s quiet manner and fatherly advice.

Illias' wife rang and invited the boy and ‘some young English friend’ to dinner. Xander’s Italian was not perfect but vastly improved and Illias a little deaf so the volume on the phone rather high. He blanched a little but prepared to make an apology when a rather bleary eyed but clothed angel stepped into the lounge where the two men were sitting. His wings were, again, concealed by a glamour, but Xander worried. All these things came with a cost to his dear love.

Spike offered his hand to Illias who was sure he had seen the man before, but as soon as they touched, the thought was gone. “Afternoon gents. Xan here tells me you’re quite the town elder.”

The older fisherman felt oddly moved by the touch, tried to access memories again but in the end simply smiled and began in very halting English. Spike was quicker, switching smoothly to perfect Italian, “Oh my apologies! How rude! Asleep thanks to the host and all that.” The blinding smile and apologetic tone in his own tongue put the old man at ease and he smiled as he referred to Xander.

“He’s a good boy. I am hoping he will stay in the town… He is a very good boy.” He patted Xander on the cheek affectionately. “But I must insist … my wife wants you both at our family dinner… and I know… I know … it is an…”

Spike answered for both of them in Illias’ native tongue, “No inconvenience, I am sure Xander is always welcome and I thank you for your kind invitation.”

The three arrived with perfect timing. Illias’ wife welcomed them at the door, and as the guest of honor entered the house, close to sixty guests sang “Happy Birthday”. Xander and Spike simply stood back as the other guests gave tribute to one of the town’s most popular grandfathers.

Illias was rather overwhelmed by the whole event and joined his friends inside as Xander and Spike stood in the front doorway. Eventually they were ushered in upon insistence by all Xander’s work colleagues and Spike looked on with a strange sense of pride as Xander’s gift was revealed. Backs were slapped and Illias accepted numerous other gifts. Davina noted the two picking up their coats and winked at Xander but said nothing. The rest of the crowd was drinking heavily so he then tugged his companion out the back door.

Illias would eventually learn that Xander’s gift had been delivered earlier in the day, a perfectly restored table from his grandmother’s home – the original rustic maintained but almost drawn into the realm of art as the hours of sanding transformed functional table made of local wood into gloriously polished and lacquered furniture.

The two ‘outsiders’ were standing side by side in the meticulously maintained garden at the back of Illias' house, and other than Davina, all revelers were happily quite oblivious of the angel & the human's status as a ‘couple’.

Xander took a risk and reached out to hold hands with his beloved before looking up to the perfectly clear evening sky and rising moon. “Just look sweetheart … look at those stars… that’s you… so beautiful…” Spike quietly whispered, “The moon is on its way pet, can we head home? Please?!” Their surreptitious exit went unnoticed by guests.

A short time later, they stood in an embrace in the dark end of their own back yard and admired the stars again. Spike looked around shook off his jacket and his significant wings emerged. Xander kissed Spike soundly then led him up to bed. As they settled for the night the human took a deep breath and began to pray as he stroked the long blonde locks of his lover.

He prayed that he might somehow help his angel, that the brave and noble angel might find solace and rest with him, and that they might be together for all time.

The last time he had made a genuine plea and sent a prayer there were definitely… consequences. The Powers heard and responded.

Xander was instantly standing in a white marble room with impossibly high ceilings. He seemed not to be able to move from his place as two beings approached him.

Part Twelve

Both figures were glowing white to the point of being hurtful to his good eye to look at. He dropped his gaze but not before noting the male and female pigeon pair, identical in all but gender.

The male addressed him, “Human you have made yet another plea for the angel you now call lover.”

“Yes… I guess… he’s not well and I… just want to make it better! Please how can I…?”

“Stupid boy! An angel cannot remain in the full form for all of each day – it is simply not possible! Your wish enabled it for a time, and you both deserved the pleasure, but it is not sustainable. You have condemned him to demise. Swift and love filled perhaps but he will depart you featherless and in pain within months if forced to live as he is.”

“No!!!! I didn’t wish for that… I um… and … oh f#%$ but… it’s Spike! No you can’t – not when he’s doing so much good!”

The female of the pair spoke “So, you wish to keep him with you?”

“Yes well… no!!! There must be another way!”

“And you love him?”

“Of course I do!”

“Then, if it is your wish that he not depart your company, we offer you the choice. Allow him to return to his inert state and allow him to visit you only as you dream until the day you give up your last breath, or alternatively join him for all time in his former state, acting on our behalf during the night and inert in the day. Do you understand the choice?”

“Ummm sort of… not really…”

The female looked at the human with utter disdain, then began to speak very slowly as though to a simpleton, “Either you never see him alive again, but will be the protector of the beautiful statue until you die. Or you are together for all time though your mortal existence will be forfeit if you choose that path. If you choose the latter, you will be immortal like your lover but have duties, and regain your energy and centre in the day, condemned to the necessary state of stone.”

Xander’s choice was instant, he could not do without Spike, not now. “Please… I’m happy to work for you but please! If we are both stone – can we at least touch in the day? Please… at least that much.”

“Sister, let us make a little compromise… I would be happy, given this human’s history, that they may reside together in the day.” The female entity grumbled a little but nodded.

The male addressed him again. “You will have time to get your affairs in order, live each day as your last, but it is up to you to call us. After that your status will be altered for all time. Take care when you do that – though I think you will know. You have requested and agreed to this path – there is no withdrawing now.” Despite his sister’s disgust the male added, “Live every day like your last… and remember… you will know the time.”

Xander woke abruptly. His angel was still quiet, but another four feathers were on the ground.

The following day Xander returned to work on the building site and this time put every effort into his full duties, despite any pain incurred. In the end it was Julius who asked him to slow down. Xander had a reputation for hard work and smiling and being the one who cheered on others but this Xander… this Xander was so cheery it worried Julius. When he said as much to his wife she shushed him. Xander was fast becoming a favorite in the village – and his lovely lodger from England was such a sweetheart! She positively had shivers when he touched her!

The former Scoobie’s life took on a bizarre quality as his partner’s faded and he tried to tie up all the things that should be… In the end he made a formal Will, planned a simple funeral, and left the majority of his money to a small gallery in Gajeta to bankroll a ‘grotto’ that they had been trying to gain funds for. The exhibits – much of Minassos work and some of other regional artists - hosted in a garden, but each sculpture undercover, protecting both observer and sculpture from the elements.

When Xander rang Willow, all he did was thank her for her friendship and ask her not to forget him. She was rather strange, asked him what was wrong, then kept asking “What’s wrong honey?? Please tell me what’s wrong?!” Strangely he ended up (though in tears) repeating it all again on Email “Nothing, just needed to tell you.”

“OK well sweetie know that I love you for all of time… you do know that yeah?”

Xander felt the tug, not urgent, just there, “Gold plated. Willow loves me. Got it.”

That night, his dear partner lost more than twenty feathers, and was looking more and more drawn.

Five days later, Spike arrived home so exhausted that he landed in an inanimate heap, was too weak to even raise his head and had to be carried into the house.

Xander bathed and tended his dear partner, but just as he had come to predict, found more feathers in a trail wherever the angel went. Spike could feel himself failing and visited the priest in his sleep – to thank him. He touched the young man and wished him well. Spike felt it. He was a good soul. The powers felt the message. The town was well looked after.

Xander rang Dawn in Rome, and as usual, everyone was out. He left an obscure message, “And a hug for Buffy too”. The gist was, “Hope you find happiness. Know you’re busy.” But by the time the girls would get it … well he wasn’t sure where or how he would be.

Davina watched the slow transition from happy, ever sharing, new addition to their town to a quiet almost reclusive man. When she learned that his English friend had “been forced by personal circumstances to withdraw”, she drew her own conclusions for Xander’s malaise.

Iliais had come to love the boy like a son and worried as he became thinner, then thinner again. If only he knew… Xander’s worry was that Angel!Spike was not only thinner, but also dropping feathers at alarming rate as his ‘life force’ was offered to small children (particularly) and adults in trouble, in nightly acts of mercy.

At the end of the third week following the conversation with the Powers, Xander found his dear love collapsed in the vineyard just north of them around two in the morning. But this time it was not just collapsed, but so stressed that the angel was unconscious for nearly forty hours. At the end of that time, as his dear love stood, Xander could see that Spike had but half his previously glorious feathers.

Davina noticed Xander’s grieving and worried for him – though knew nothing of the real cause as the glamour had dropped and Spike forced to hide from those he was charged to help.

It was around midnight and Xander had followed Spike on foot – worried by the pain groan as the angel once more launched himself into the sky to answer the call. The human watched with pride as the beautiful angel flew overhead holding a now sleeping four year old that had wandered away from a picnic earlier in the evening. The entire family and most of the town had been out looking for her, the poor parents convinced she had headed for the water and probably drowned. In fact Spike had found her sleeping in a small olive grove only a kilometer or so from the party venue.

But just as Xander began to think his lover was recovered, he was horrified as his dear angel began to plummet – plumage no longer able to support his weight and that of his charge.

The rescue should have been easy but given the speed of decent and the starting point, but Xander instantly realized that there was more than one issue afoot. The little girl would die if she fell from the height and his partner would be critically injured for sure. He immediately invoked the request to the Powers, felt a strange sensation in his back but didn’t question as instinct took over, wings expanded and he embraced his change.

He caught the two on the way to the ground, placing the little girl on the rear doorstep of her grandmother’s home and rang the cow bell. The grandparents were overjoyed to find the rather bewildered little love standing on their back porch and the news of her return spread like wildfire. Two desperate parents were soon embracing their daughter and being embraced by all who had searched frantically along with them (plus neighbours and emergency services staff just for good measure).

Meanwhile, Xander had returned to lift his dear ill angel to their bed. As he settled his sweetheart he felt strange. Spike too felt an odd sensation and then the very familiar hot and cold, and watched in horror as his form began to disintegrate, Spike’s last thoughts before black being, “Bloody hell, not again!”

The human form of Alexander Lavelle Harris was found deceased in his bed the following morning – apparently he had died between six and nine hours earlier. There was no sign the previous night’s wings.

His dear friend Davina had ‘popped in’ with her own key (willingly provided by Xander) late on the Friday to drop off a quiche (had to get the boy to eat something!). She immediately realized something was not right. All was silent, even though she called twice, so she walked through the house, and found Xander on the couch. He was apparently asleep, but in fact was stiff and cold to the touch.

It was impossible! She made a panicked call to the local emergency services, who were there in minutes and declared him dead. The coroner would later report that an aneurism in the brain had robbed them all of one of Gajeta’s favorite foreigners, a man who had in such a short time, truly become one of the town’s treasured ‘sons’.

Father Andreas led the distressing funeral service. The close knit community was used to saying farewell to the old and infirm, to the worried or the sick… but this man was young, fit and had been nothing but helpful and supportive; he had slipped easily into all of their lives; happily struggling to learn the language; and always so thankful of any small kindness.

Father Andreas prayed at the end of the service, himself struggling with the blessing, and stopping twice as his own tears welled up. The congregation was with him as a heartfelt plea was made that Xander might find peace and happiness in the next life.

There were five foreigners at the back of the service, the elderly gent and a white headed youngish woman both needing assistance when it came time to leave. Illias and Julius joined the dear Englishman as he fell to his knees with unfettered grief as the coffin was lowered into the grave to rest.

Giles’ command of Italian was rudimentary in his stressed state but as Illias arm went around the stranger he simply said, “He was as close to a son as I will ever have.” Then collapsed into a full hug with the old fisherman, who himself was crying quite openly. They held the embrace for many minutes until finally needing to move from the edge of the resting place as more earth needed to be added.

Willow was helped up the hill, comforted by Dawn and Buffy, the women drawing strength from Buffy’s partner the Immortal, and all five ‘outsiders’ graciously hosted by Davina and Ron who were holding the after service function at their lovely B&B.

For many weeks and months afterwards, the old Sunnydale friends speculated that Xander knew something was wrong – his financial affairs were completely in order, and they had all had loving phonecalls in the month or so previous, but all eventually discounted the notion as silly.

Two months after the funeral, Minassos was inspired to carve another unusual piece and this time two full sized male angels emerged from the rock, both had magnificent six foot plus, full length wings. It was the first piece to be included in the new, trendy, outdoor gallery funded in part by the recently deceased A.L.Harris.

Laz himself was rather surprised. The piece simply seemed to emerge of its own volition!

The white marble sculpture was that of two angels embracing. Their gender would be argued about for decades as the long locks and pretty features confused many an observer. But its beauty was never questioned. The angels were in such a tight embrace that their wings were almost touching – and certainly covered the fact that their nether regions were resting against each other. Pretty faces were obscured by the fact that the pair both had a cheek on the other’s shoulder, and had lips pressed to their lover’s neck in a tender kiss.

Spike knew the feeling, but Xander was initially too overwhelmed to process the sensations as his eyes were carved and form polished.

On the first night after their finishing polish, with only the moon to light the workshop, two sets of wings stretched out to their full span, two heads lifted and mouths met and hand ran over perfect male forms in wonder.

What noone saw nightly after that, was the two lovers emerge after dark to once again consummate their adoration for each other before taking off to answer the call of their masters. Nightly, his beautiful angel took off and now Xander joined him to make blissful and passionate love mid air before performing their duties, or after a particularly critical night simply lying in quiet repose with him stroking feathers and being stroked before they had to take their places again.

Minassos himself was thrilled by the response to the piece. He named it “Eternal Comfort” and was awarded three “Highly Commended”s and received wonderful reviews by a variety of art critics within months of its creation. By the end of the year he was the proud owner of a first prize in “Classical Modern Sculpture” from the central Italian government in their national competition to encourage new talent and earned him prize money that was treble his normal income for the year.

The piece even went ‘on tour’ (with some of his others) to five other galleries across Europe before returning to rest in Gajeta. Minassos was feted along with his creation and soon found himself with so much commissioned work that he really was struggling to keep up the pace and had to turn several things down. It was a wonderful change!

The statue’s figures were amazed by all the attention, though enjoyed being home the most. For the angel couple the stress of their nightly work with the sick and the distressed was offset by the return to the small grotto in Gajetta’s open air art feature as they relaxed against each other in their permanent embrace for the following day.

Some time in the tenth year after Sunnydale’s demise, Giles and Willow visited Gajeta again and both had strange dreams, or visitations, they weren’t really sure. The following morning Giles spoke to the wiccan over breakfast and was rather thrown. They had both seen the same thing a winged Xander and winged Spike – the two as angels smiling at them… In the end they decided it was just some sort of collective grief brought on by the anniversary of Xander’s passing nearly six years previously.

The angels were the main attraction at the gallery, posed with or in front of by thousands of tourists each year – the popularity of magnificent angels’ forms hugging helping to boost the popularity and reputation of the gallery’s entire collection.

Spike and Xander’s ‘grotto’ was warm in the day, and the tedium of standing eased by their stone state. There was no more pain from old injuries, no hunger and no fatigue. And the stillness of each day afforded them a chance to rejuvenate energy for the coming night. Their permanent hug truly was Eternal Comfort.

When the tug occurred, as it always did nightly, the two angels checked the area, shook out their feathers hard then took off into the night, soaring high above Gajeta – sometimes stealing a kiss mid air before answering the tug and performing their designated duties for the night.

They might be compelled to do good deeds and condemned to their white marble forms of a daytime, but they had each other for eternity. Their lovemaking was passionate and enhanced by two sets of wings. And if the lovers of art had looked closely enough, they would notice the contented smile on both angels’ faces as they embraced each day, the expression only obscured by the fact that faces were tucked into each others’ necks.

And the Powers smiled too.

The End

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