Part Fourteen  

"Spike, for gods sake, will you just sit down?"

Xander let out a sigh as he watched Spike pace across the room for the
463rd time that evening. It had been six days since Xander had been
attacked and he was finally beginning to feel somewhat better. Enough so
that Spike's incessant pacing was driving him slowly insane. **Yeah, and
imagine how he must feel**

Spike had refused to leave the room the entire time Xander had been there.
Luckily, Dr. O'Rourke had arranged for Xander to be roomed in what
obviously was some type of suite. There was a main room with Xander's
bed, three chairs, a few small tables and a couch. A large bathroom was
off to the side and then a separate bedroom with a regular bed, a few more
chairs, a television and a large closet. Since Xander had woken that
first day, Spike had remained at Xander's side, moving only to get a nurse
or when one the doctors made him move so Xander could be examined. Spike
slept in a chair next to Xander's bed, always holding his hand, or running
his fingers through Xander's hair, or standing at the foot of the bed with
an arm resting lightly on Xander's leg. Xander had finally gotten him to
let go that morning by promising to let Spike wash his hair later that
night. Spike had a thing for washing his hair and Xander had to admit
that he liked it too. Now, Spike was pacing back and forth, watching
Xander the entire time. It was as if Spike was terrified that Xander
would disappear if Spike let go, if he took his eyes off Xander for even
one moment.

Xander's eyes grew wide at the thought. He looked up, realizing how gaunt
Spike had become, how tired those eyes were, how Spike seemed even paler
than usual. **His fault, he thinks it's his fault.** Xander felt his
throat close as he realized the truth. This had to be dealt with, he
couldn't stand Spike thinking he bore any fault for what had occurred.

"Spike, seriously, would you come over here, sit down, I want to talk to
you about something."

"Of course, luv, are you all right, do you need something, isn't it almost
time for your medication again, do you need something to drink?" Spike
heard himself fussing but he couldn't stop. He had failed. He had
promised to keep Xander safe and he had failed. This was all he could do
now, try to make everything safe, try to keep Xander comfortable, distract
him, try to make the pain go away.

Xander reached down and grabbed Spike's hands as they skimmed over his
body, checking that everything was ok, that all the hated wires and tubes
were secure.

"No, Spike, stop it. I want to talk to you about something." Xander
grasped the hands tightly, waiting for Spike to meet his gaze.

"Yes, pet, what is it? Do you need something, I can have the Watcher or
Red go for whatever it is. You must be bloody bored out of your mind, do
you want some books, or some music," again the almost frantic litany of
options, the listing of things that Spike would do. The desperation of it
hit Xander, the fear clear in the worried tones.

"No. Spike, I want to ask you something. Do you think this is your
fault? Do you think that you let me down somehow, that you could have
done something to prevent this?" Xander kept his voice quiet, grasping
Spike's hands in his, knowing that Spike would try to pull away.

Spike stared back for a moment, then his head dropped. Finally, Xander
had asked, finally he had realized what he had done, finally he would make
Spike leave, would lash out for the broken promises, for the protection
which Spike could never give. His hands began to shake as he tried to
pull away.

"Yes." Spike could barely force the word out, but the truth of it burnt
the air. He continued to look down, not wanting to meet Xander's gaze,
unwilling to see the betrayal that would reside there.

"Spike, Spike, look at me." Xander continued to hold on, knowing exactly
what Spike was thinking, seeing the pain in the profile of Spike's face.
"Spike, please. It's not your fault, there was nothing you could have
done. I was the one who asked you to go out, I was the one who opened the
door without seeing who was there first."

Xander swallowed hard at that. Since the night they first had their
friends over, they had been getting regular visitors to their apartment.
Spike had arranged for cameras both at the entrance to the elevator on the
ground level and again at their front door. He had told Xander over and
over to never let anyone in until he saw who it was first. Xander had
just laughed, amused as always by the lengths to which Spike would go to
protect him.
"I heard the elevator, thought it was you and just opened the door. If I
had looked like you told me to, I would never have let him in, Spike, if
it's anyone's fault, it's mine." Xander heard a sudden hiss as Spike's
head shot up.

"Never say that. How can you think that, this is not your fault, none of
it is your fault. That motherfucker came after you and you did nothing,
do you hear me, nothing to make him." Spike's voice shook with rage and
pain. "No, I won't stand for this. You always try to make everything
somehow your fault, this isn't. It isn't, it's mine, I left you, I should
have known, I promised he would never hurt you and he did, I'm sorry,
please, forgive me, please don't make me leave." Spike's voice grew
weaker as he visibly began to shake. "Please, I'll do anything, just
don't leave me." His head dropped to the bed.
"Don't leave me, couldn't bear it, everything, don't. . ." His voice
trailed off as Spike began to weep, the fear and pain of the last week
pouring out of him.

Xander just ran his hand through Spike's soft hair. Now it was his turn
to comfort, his turn to be strong, his turn to provide an anchor for the
pain. It had worried him that Spike had tried to seem so strong, so
resolute. It was one thing for him to be that way when the others were
present, Xander understood that. Spike did not like to reveal how
vulnerable he could truly be, still needed to appear to be the heartless
bastard that the others knew and loathed. But, even when they were alone,
even when Xander had woken screaming from the nightmares that plagued him,
Spike had remained calm. Other than that first night, Spike had not shown
any release for the anger and fear that Xander knew was still in Spike.
Knew because it was still in him as well. Xander managed to tug on Spike
enough to pull his head onto Xander's shoulder.

"Shh, it's over, it's all over. I'm going to be fine. I will never leave
you. I can't leave you, I'm yours remember. Spike, open your eyes, look
down, see, that's your mark there, I'm yours, always yours. It's not my
fault either, there was nothing either of us could have done, shh, it's
all right." Xander ran his hands along Spike's back, sending up a quick
prayer of thanks that he could finally move, a little anyway. He had been
allowed to sit up just in the last few days and slowly but surely the
various machinery was being disconnected. "Shh, that's right, let it out,
it's fine, I'm fine, love you, not mad at you, never mad at you, you did
everything you could, nothing else you could have done, shh."

They stayed like that for a long time, Spike's sobbing letting off some
then starting again as Spike thought of how close he had come to losing
Xander. Finally, Spike managed to lift his head. He needed to see
Xander's eyes, needed to know that the words were true. Xander still
loved him, even though he had failed.

"Xander, I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

Xander just crushed Spike into him, pulling as close as they could, Spike
still careful to lean away from the wound that ran down the center of
Xander's chest.

"Nothing to forgive. I love you. Stop being such a bloody idiot, turning
into your brooding Sire there." Xander whispered the words, a small smile
crossing his lips. Spike loved it when Xander talked like him. And he
knew the immediate reaction any mention of Angel would provoke.

"Don't compare me to that bloody pouf." The response came like clockwork,
causing Xander's smile to widen. "I love you too, don't deserve you,"
again the waver in Spike's voice, but the usual amusement beginning to
return as well. "Turning me into a girl here, whelp, leaking about all
over the place.

Xander just grinned at that. "Yeah, nancy boy."

"Idiot"

"Wanker"

"Moron"

"Ponce"

"Prick"

Xander paused for a second, trying to remember any of Spike's other
favorite insults when he felt cool lips press into his. He leaned into
the kiss eagerly, needing this connection, feeling some semblance of
normalcy return between them. He opened his mouth, sliding a tongue
across Spike's lips. He felt Spike's mouth open to him and he eagerly
plunged his tongue into that cool mouth, drawing Spike's tongue into his
own. He moaned, needing this, wanting this, the taste driving him insane.
His grip on Spike's back tightened, drawing him closer. Xander's hands
began to wander down Spike's back, moving lower and lower. He felt
Spike's hands tangle in his hair, knew that Spike longed to caress him as
well. **Fucking hospitals** The thought crossed both their minds at the
same time as the kiss changed. Not comforting. Not claiming. Not
relearning each other's taste. No, it was needful, lustful, the desire
burning into them both. Xander pulled back, gulping in air, then leaned
back into that mouth, desire rising strong between them.

Spike suddenly yanked away, shaky breaths coming from him as well. He
locked eyes with Xander, trying to calm them both.

"Bloody hell, want you." The words forced their way past his lips despite
his effort to stop them.

"Tell me about it," came the wry reply as Xander tried to stop his hands
from moving further down Spike's back, trying to stop them from pulling
Spike's shirt out from the waist of his jeans, trying to stop them from
running along that flat, flat stomach. His hands, however, appeared to
have a mind of their own.

A gasp came from Spike and he closed his eyes, feeling the heat of
Xander's touch burn him.

"Christ, Xan, what are you doing?" He tried to pull away, but Xander held
him firm.

"Not too sure. Want you though, fuck, what's the use of having this great
bed that moves for you if you can't use it," the words were muttered into
Spike's lips as Xander leaned back up.

"Can't be good for your stitches," Spike managed to get out with the few
seconds of control he had remaining.

"I know, been thinking about this though, had an idea." With that, Xander
plunged his hand down the front of Spike's jeans, having managed to get
the zipper down by distracting Spike by sucking on his neck. He needed
this, had to have Spike in some way. He grasped the hard length and began
to stroke, slowly and surely.

Spike's head fell back. **Fuck, taught him too bloody well by half**
"Xander, what if someone comes in. . . Oh, that, again, oh hell."

Xander drank in the sight above him, watching the emotions play on that
beautiful face. "Let them, my boyfriend, do what I want, my room, their
fault for coming in."

Xander continued his long, sure strokes, feeling the tension building,
knowing that Spike wouldn't be able to hold back for long. He quickened
his pace, swiping his thumb over the soft skin of Spike's tip, just how
Spike liked, exactly what he wanted, just what they both needed. He
watched as Spike's face rippled, the ridges coming out, then felt the
shudder go through his love, felt the cold liquid pour down his hands,
heard the broken words.

"Xan, love, hell, always," Spike panted, unable to finish a thought, the
pleasure crashing through him. He managed to stay standing only by
propping one arm along the wall. He watched, hazy eyed, as Xander placed
him back in his jeans then zipped him back up.

Slowly, deliberately, Xander lifted his hand to his lips, then wrapped his
tongue around his finger, licking it clean. Spike felt his cock twitch
again at the sight.

"Mmmm, much better than hospital food." He grinned as he looked up,
Spike's eyes still hazy. "You better get cleaned up, don't want to be
too obvious," he began.

Spike suddenly leaned down and captured Xander's mouth in his. This time
they were calmer, gentler, Spike licking his taste out of Xander's mouth.

"Sure thing, pet, won't be the same without you. However, still have some
unfinished business." Now it was Spike's hands that moved carefully down
Xander's body, reaching over to grasp Xander's erection. Gently, he began
to stroke up and down, a slow but strong rhythm, careful not to jar Xander
too much.

Xander's eyes closed, lips parting and his tongue running along his lower
lip. "Spike," a low moan. **So good, so good** "Spike, just, careful,
you know."

A low chuckle. "Don't worry, pet, don't want the doctors yelling at me."
Spike resumed the steady pace, drawing it out. Finally, Xander felt his
orgasm coming, felt it crash into him, felt the strong hands holding his
hips so that he wouldn't jar anything, felt a cool tongue lean down and
lick him clean.

Spike moved back up, dropped a quick kiss on Xander's temple, seeing that
Xander had already fallen into a light sleep. He slipped into the
bathroom and Xander faintly heard the shower begin as he surfaced back to
consciousness for a moment. He smiled then fell back to sleep.

=========================================================================
"What do you mean, another week?" The words were yelped out in unison,
the frustration apparent in both voices.

Dr. O'Rourke took a deep breath, knowing they wouldn't like the news.
"Xander, you're healing very nicely, everything looks great, but, still,
you went through a significant traumatic event, followed by a major
surgery. We just want to make sure that everything is fine before we send
you home. We don't want you coming back here, now, do we?" The voice was
eminently reasonable, the logic impeccable.

A low rumble came from Spike. "Stupid git."

A small smile crossed the surgeon's face. Looked like the vampire had
some sense, at least, and wasn't trying to convince him to let his patient
out early. It was obvious that the two of them were slowly going insane
stuck here in this room.

"Xander, you've only been allowed to get out of bed for what, three days
now, you're still very weak. You are not up to any strenuous activity."
A harsh glare at the both of them. He didn't want to think about what the
two of them might be considering trying now that Xander had been allowed
to walk. Two sets of completely innocent eyes looked back at him. **This
isn't good**

"Doctor, I'm perfectly aware of my limitations." Xander managed to keep
the grin off his face and out of his voice only with a huge effort.
"Trust me, I'm not doing anything strenuous."

"Of course not, pet, you let me do all the work." Spike smirked over, and
Xander couldn't help smirking back. That was true, Spike had been very
gentle, very cautious, they hadn't done anything more than kiss and touch
one another.

Dr. O'Rourke just sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Just, try
to keep it under control, gentlemen. Try not to shock the nurses." He
regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

"Don't know about that, mate, I think they would rather appreciate the
show. See enough with that camera, now, don't they?" Spike grinned up at
him, thoroughly enjoying the blush that was stealing up the man's face.
"What about it, luv, don't you think they appreciate it?"

"I know I would," came the amused reply.

The doctor just shook his head. "Look, one week. Then you can go home."
With that he fled the room.

Xander and Spike grinned at each other, excitement building. One week,
one week and they could go home. Spike's eyes narrowed at that a little,
and he glanced over at the clock. 8:15 p.m.

"Pet, I've got somewhere I have to be."

Xander's eyes widened at that, Spike had pretty much refused to leave the
room until the day before, when he had left for about an hour while Xander
was receiving respiratory therapy. He still had problems taking deep
breaths due to the depth of the stab wound.

"Oh, that's fine, when will you be back?" Xander tried to keep the worry
out of his voice. Spike quickly leaned down and kissed him on the
forehead.

"About an hour, maybe an hour and a half, not quite sure. Do you want me
to call when I'm on my way back?" He traced a finger down Xander's cheek,
calming his lover.

"Please, I'll feel better. Where are you going?" Xander cursed himself.
**Acting like a child, probably going to kill something, make him feel
better**

"It's a surprise," came the reply. Spike leaned down, kissed Xander's
cheek then left.

===========================================================================

One week later

Spike took one last look around the hated room, making sure they had
everything. Buffy and Willow had already checked, moving the stacks of
books and the other various and sundry items that had accumulated over the
two weeks Xander had spent in the hospital. **Clothes, books, cds, my
lighter** The room was empty. He moved back to the door and took
Xander's hand.

"Right, let's get the fuck out of here," Xander said, dying to leave. He
felt much better, still weak, but better. The incision had healed well,
but was still sore to touch. His stamina wasn't very good, but he had
been given a clean bill of health. He wasn't allowed to return to classes
yet and he and Spike had received a fairly incoherent lecture from Dr.
O'Rourke, the gist of which seemed to be that resuming sex was fine just
not to overdue it. Which was very, very bad news because all Xander could
think about was getting Spike into bed. Not just for sex, he craved to
feel Spike's arms around him as he slept.

"Right." Spike tossed one last look back over his shoulder, then they
walked out, joining the rest of the gang waiting to see Xander off. They
moved down the hall, Willow taking his other hand. They reached the
elevator and Xander ceremoniously pushed the button for the ground floor.
They walked out into the night and Xander grinned when he saw his Jeep
sitting parked right in front of the building.

"So, I get to drive," he started happily for the door, but was gently
pulled back.

"Not exactly, pet." Spike settled him into the passenger's side, buckling
him up as everyone else piled into the back.

Spike carefully pulled away and Xander suppressed a grin. Usually,
driving with Spike was an adventure, but now he was cautiously signaling
and turning left. Left.

"Um, Spike, where are we going, the apartment's the other way."

"Is it?" Spike continued driving, a smile tugging at the corner of his
lips.

"Spike, what are you up to?" Xander knew what that smile meant and it
usually meant no good.

Spike just shrugged, as he made a turn off to the right. Xander quickly
became lost as they took a few more turns in rapid succession. Xander
realized they were now in one of the nicer neighborhoods of Sunnydale.

"Spike," very quietly, very calmly. "Where the hell are you going?"

Spike just grinned as he pulled to a stop in front of a gated driveway.

"Home." With that, he leaned out the window and punched the security code
into the box next to the gate. The gate swung open and Spike pulled in,
pausing to make sure the gate latched behind them.

Xander shot another glance over as they curved around some tall trees.
Then, he saw the house. A long, low Spanish style ranch house greeted his
gaze, lush plantlife running along the driveway which curved to a circle
in front of the house, a small fountain in the center. The landscaping
continued along the front of the house, small spotlights shining up.
Spike gently pulled the car to a stop in front of the door and looked
over, beaming.

"Surprise."

Stunned silence filled the Jeep. Xander just stared.

"When, why, Christ, Spike," he finally started, having no idea what to
say.

Spike just laughed, got out of the car and walked around the front,
pulling Xander's door open. He helped Xander out, then slung an arm
across his shoulders.

"No fucking way you were ever going back to that place," Spike whispered
quietly in Xander's ear. "Thought you might like a change of scenery,
pet. Saw this place awhile ago, thought you might like it." That part
said loudly, for the sake of their friends who were spilling out from the
back.

That was true, he had an eye of this house since he first came across it
during one of his late night prowls a few months before. It had been
empty and some demons had been living there. After Spike killed them, he
had wandered through the house, admiring the spaciousness and proportions
of the rooms. He had known, as soon as he had been assured that Xander
would be fine, that they would not be returning to the apartment. He
couldn't bear the thought of it and he would never allow Xander to be
reminded of what had happened. He made some calls, arranged for the
purchase, for the furnishings, to have them moved, again amused by how the
promise of cash could ease anything.

They rest of the group stood there, openmouthed.

"Spike, goddess, this is beautiful, is this really yours?" Willow said,
looking at the house.

"Sure is, Red, why, you like?" Spike grinned down at her, seeing the
confusion in all their faces.

"Seriously, Spike, how did you do this?" Buffy's slightly awed voice next
to him. "Where did you get the money, you did buy this, right?" Buffy's
eyes narrowed at that. "Thought you were broke."

Xander began to laugh at that, then Spike joined in until they were
leaning against the Jeep, nearly falling into each other.

"Not exactly, Buff. Blondie here is a bit of a liar. You should see the
portfolio on him. And I don't mean that in a sexual way." Xander managed
to gasp out, grabbing his side. "Ow, don't make me laugh like that."

Giles shot them a look. He had had his suspicions about that. "Well, it
is lovely." He turned, noticing for the first time that a low wall
surrounded the property with what appeared to be newly installed
electrical wires at the top.

"C'mon, luv, don't you want to see inside." Spike grinned, pleased with
himself. If the Jeep had been a good idea, then this, this was a fabulous
idea. They moved up the steps and Spike handed Xander the keys with a
bow.

"After you."

Xander felt like his face was going to split in two from the grin he knew
was plastered there. He opened the door, eyes widening when he saw
chandelier hanging down, saw that the house was fully furnished. Turning
back, he pulled Spike in after him, noticing that Spike entered with no
hesitation. **Of course not, idiot, his house, our house, already been
invited**

"Come on in," he called to the others, Spike shooting him an amused
glance. They came in, jaws again dropping at the sight of the house.
They had entered into a large open entrance hall with a peaked cathedral
ceiling. Hanging down was a chandelier, its arms spreading out, appearing
to hold candles on the ends. The floor was tiled in a colorful red and
yellow sunburst pattern. Low benches ran along one wall with doorways
heading in all directions. They could see that there was another set of
doors on the other side, leading into the back yard.

Anya wandered off to the right, shaking her head. She always knew Spike
had taste, he was with Xander after all, but this was so unexpected.
Everyone followed her as she stepped down a step into a large living room.
Again, it was fully furnished, a soft ivory couch running in a curve
along one wall, a low glass table in front of it, plants everywhere,
endtables with small lamps casting a warm glow, the television against the
wall in front of them. She noticed absently that heavy curtains were on
the windows, then resumed her study of the room. Three smaller leather
chairs in the same ivory faced the couch. A bar ran along the far wall
with a pool table in front of it. A small bathroom was set in a corner
next to the bar. Willow let out a low exclamation of delight.

Buffy walked through the next doorway, coming into the large dining room.
A long table ran the length of the room, the dark wood in contrast to the
lightness of the walls. Three lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating
the small flower arrangements set on the table. Continuing forward, she
entered the kitchen. She flipped on the light and stepped back, startled.
It looked like something from a magazine. The kitchen was bright and
cheery, the same red and yellow tile scheme continuing through here. A
central island with stools was in the center, with a huge, professional
looking stove behind it. A large, three-basin sink was off to one side of
the stove, while a coffee maker sat on the counter on the other side. Off
to the right was a breakfast area, with a bay window, again with heavy
curtains, a bench seat running under the window with a table in front of
it. The refrigerator was off to the right, blending into the cabinets. A
rack hung over the island, with pots and pans hanging down. It looked
like Emeril was going to come out and start cooking any minute.

"Xander, Spike, wow, this is, wow, too bad you don't cook."

"Actually, Slayer, I'm quite the cook," came the amused response behind
her as Spike pulled a speechless Xander in behind him. Buffy just shot
him a look. "Well, I am. I would tell you to ask the whelp here, but,
well, cat's got his tongue."

Spike couldn't help it. He was thrilled. He had finally gotten a chance
to find a place appropriate for Xander and it appeared that his friends
were suitably impressed. **About time they realized how he should be
treated** He gently tugged Xander around. "Want to see the bedrooms?"
He leered suggestively, earning him a whap.

"Yes, but later for the rest," Xander said, finally breaking out of his
stupor. He could not believe the house, could not believe it was his.
Could not believe Spike had found the time to do this.

"Spike, when did you do all this," he asked as Spike herded everyone back
to the other end of the house.

"You were asleep a lot and, well, that's why they invented the telephone.
Can do anything by phone nowadays." **Especially when you know the right
people** Spike had ended up calling in a few favors, but it was worth it.
The hardest part had been trusting that it would be decorated properly,
but he was relieved to see that Cordelia had been right in her
recommendation. Passing through the entranceway, they entered a long
hallway. Two bedrooms were to the left, a large bathroom connecting the
two. Another bedroom with an attached bath was on their right. Then a
study, bookshelves lining the wall, a desk facing the windows into the
backyard, the computer glowing softly. Next, a larger room, set up as a
training area, various pieces of exercise equipment grouped around a large
mat with a heavy bag in the corner. Finally, Spike stopped as they
reached the end of the hall.

"Right, our rooms, no need for you to see that." Ignoring the protests he
cocked his head. "Wouldn't you rather go out back and see the pool? Oh,
and did I fail to mention that there's a hot tub." He watched as they
took off back down the hall, Xander following. Spike started to follow
when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up to see Giles
staring at him.

"Spike, this, this is very, well, quite much," Giles began. "I couldn't
help but notice that there is a wall around the property. And that it
seems to be topped by an electric fence."

Spike just shot a glance over. "Wouldn't bloody let me put in the moat
now, would they?" Giles just looked back, knowing that Spike wasn't
entirely joking. "Nothing will get in here, Watcher. Not while I'm still
here." The words hung in the air.

Nodding, Giles followed Spike back down the hall. "I was sure of that."
They heard a squeal, then a splash. Sighing, Giles shook his head.
"Shall we see what the children are up to?"

Walking out the back entrance, they found that Anya had already pushed
Willow into the pool with Tara not far behind. Buffy had gone to help
them both out, only to find herself tugged in. A huge water fight had
ensued and Xander was just standing there, grinning madly. Spike walked
behind him, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist.

"So, do you like?" Spike quietly asked, a little concerned.

His only response was a soft kiss on the cheek. They stood, watching as
the splashing continued.

===========================================================================

They were finally alone. Spike and Xander had taken them back to the
hospital to pick up Giles's car. Then, they had returned to the house,
Xander paying closer attention to where they were going. They pulled back
in and Xander found his heart in his throat once again as they pulled in
front of the house. He owned a house. He OWNED a HOUSE. He had never
even considered the possibility. They sat there for a moment, lost in
their thoughts. Finally, Xander leaned over, resting his head on Spike's
shoulder.

"Must love me or something."

"Something like that."

"This is, I love it, it's perfect. I can't believe you did this." Xander
leaned back up, got out of the car and carefully stretched. They walked
back in and, as soon as the door was shut, Xander pinned Spike to the
wall.

"Really love, can't wait to see our rooms, particularly bed," he rumbled
into Spike's ear as he began to kiss down Spike's neck, moving directly
for the spot halfway down that he knew drove Spike insane.

"Figured you would," Spike managed to push them off the wall, then down
the hall, walking backwards so that he could watch Xander's face, could
lean up for quick kisses. They reached the doors at the end of the hall.

"Close your eyes," whispered Spike. Xander quickly complied, excitement
of all sorts racing through him. Spike pushed the doors opened, then led
Xander in.

"Open your eyes, Xander," Spike gently commanded.

Xander opened his eyes, looking around in awe. Their bed was along the
back wall of a large room, lit by soft light coming from the lamps in each
corner. Another couch was under windows on the far side, a television
next to it, visible from the bed. Dark chests stood along the other
walls, with candles on top of the one nearest the bed. Off to the right
was a huge walk in closet. Off to the left was the bathroom and Xander
could just make out a separate shower and bathtub. His attention,
however, was directed almost entirely on the bed.

"This is great, explore it later. Bed now." Xander pushed Spike across
the room, focused only on the almost painful longing to be a part of him.
It wasn't just how long it had been, it was the need to be together, to
feel a part of each other, to reassure each other that they were still
one.

Spike groaned as Xander pushed him down, relishing this. It had been all
he could do not to just throw everyone out, but he wanted to prove to
everyone that he was capable of taking care of Xander, that his love was
safe with him.

Xander slowly leaned into Spike, covering that cool body with his own,
careful to rest on his forearms which were on either side of Spike's head,
still not able to tolerate much pressure on his chest. They kissed long
and slow, building the passion gently, carefully. Neither wanted this to
be over quickly, they wanted to take their time, to enjoy the luxury of
truly being alone.

Spike reached up, running his hands over Xander's back, the familiar body
now thinner, a little more frail. He leaned up and gently turned them on
their sides, knowing that Xander's arms would quickly tire. He moved his
mouth down, trailing along Xander's jawline, down his neck, lingering on
the scar from his mark, licking his tongue around the twin wounds. Xander
moaned and thrust his hips into Spike's, their groins coming into contact,
their erections straining against each other.

Xander reached his hands under Spike's shirt, running a flat palm on
Spike's nipple, feeling it immediately harden. He moved his hand down,
his other entwined in Spike's hair, tracing each ripple of Spike's perfect
abdomen. He heard the familiar moan, the automatic tilt of Spike's hips,
relearning the flesh, remembering just where to touch to see Spike's head
tilt, exposing his throat. Xander bent down and began to suck at the
hollow of Spike's throat, feeling Spike's thrusts quicken, a low growl
begin to move through the vampire. Xander leaned back and pulled Spike's
shirt off just as Spike did the same to his own.

Spike pushed Xander flat onto the bed, seeing the clean edge of the
incision next to the rougher one from the stab wound. A quick flash of
pain glimmered across his features, then Spike bent down and began to
slowly lick his way up each wound, taking care not to hurt, but needing to
taste, to become part of the pain.

Xander's eyes closed at the trace of Spike's tongue. The coolness of it
eased the pain, the itching that had started as the scars began to form.
The feel of it was driving him mad, the way that Spike was worshipping his
body, cleansing the wounds, trying to lap them away. Xander felt himself
growing harder and harder, until he was nearly in pain from the tightness
against his zipper. He pulled Spike up, kissing him deeply, as he reached
down to unbutton Spike's jeans. Spike took the hint and quickly returned
the favor, easing the pressure.

Soon, they were naked, flesh pressing into flesh. They lay there,
entwined in one another, lengths pressed together as they cherished just
this, just the feel of being in one another's arms. Soon, too soon, the
heat overwhelmed them, and they began to rock together, each touch pushing
them further towards completion, tongues circling one another.

Spike pulled back and reached out for his duster. He pulled the small
tube out and pressed it into Xander's hand. Xander took it, then leaned
back, looking at Spike. Spike just nodded, then rolled onto his back,
pulling his legs to his chest.

Xander opened the tube with shaky hands. Usually, Spike was the one to
penetrate him. He was still a little insecure about fucking Spike, not
positive he was doing it right, not sure if he was bringing pleasure to
the man beneath him, even with Spike's assurances to the contrary. But
something in Spike's eyes told him he needed this, needed Xander to fill
him, needed to know that they were one, needed that connection. Xander
carefully reached down, then pressed a finger forward. There was some
resistance but not much. Xander watched Spike's face the entire time,
seeing Spike's eyes begin to haze over, feeling Spike begin to move in
time with the rhythm. He searched, found the spot, and was rewarded by
the sight of Spike grasping the sheets, knuckles turning white from the
pressure.

"There, again, just like that, Xander, Xander," the words came flowing
down from above. Xander pulled out, inserted another finger and began to
move just like Spike had told him, just like Spike did to him. Quickly,
Spike began to relax beneath him, began to open fully and completely. A
third finger entered as Spike began to thrash on the bed, pushing down as
Xander's hand pushed up. Finally, Spike began to beg.

"Xander, in me, please, part of me, need it, need you, love you, please,
please, love you."

With that, Xander placed the tip of his cock against Spike's opening and
entered him, the tightness and the coolness grasping him. Now it was
Xander's head that snapped back, Xander's voice that broke as he began to
move in time with Spike's rhythm.

"Spike, love you, never leave, love you, part of you, feel me, in you,
love you," the words like music to Spike's ears. He was impaled, truly
impaled. The heat of it burned into every pore of his body, bathing him
in its pureness. It was like nothing he had ever known, the feel of it
driving through his very being. He craved it, wanting more and more.
Spike began to move faster, drawing Xander in deeper and deeper. He cared
nothing for his own release, he just wanted this, wanted to feel Xander
come deep inside him, wanted to know that Xander was a part of him. Then
he felt a warm hand grasp him, felt the pull as Xander pumped in time with
their thrusts.

"Together, please together, see you, want to see you," Xander's voice
panting above him. Spike managed to open his eyes. He saw Xander's face,
contorted in pleasure, the thick dark hair sweaty and falling around his
face, the golden skin glowing above him. Spike felt himself begin to slip
over the edge, the vision of it combined with the feel of Xander filling
him proving to much.

"Can't wait, now, Xan, love you, Xander," with a furious cry, Spike came,
bucking into Xander's hand, his muscles clutching the prick buried deep
inside him.

With a strangled cry, Xander came, the expression on Spike's face pulling
out his own release. He felt strong hands holding his hips, holding him
inside that coolness. He felt himself begin to collapse, only to be
caught and gently cradled into Spike's chest.

"I love you," he managed to gasp out.

Spike just kissed the top of his head, holding him as tightly as possible.
Finally, Xander pulled up, sliding out of Spike, causing a small whimper
of protest from his lover. Xander settled into the crook of Spike's arm,
content to his very core.

They lay quietly, both fading off to sleep. Automatically, Xander turned
on his side and Spike curled into his back. Xander just hummed, an
echoing purr coming from Spike. This, this was what had been missing
during those long days in that damn hospital bed.

"Spike,"

"Hmmm," came the sleepy reply.

"Thanks for the house."

"Glad you like."

"Only one thing."

"What's that, luv?"

"We're going to have to have a discussion about exactly what I meant by
small gifts." The grin was apparent in Xander's voice.

Spike just let out a quiet chuckle, "You should've seen the place I really
wanted."

Xander just laughed in return and snuggled in tighter. They quickly
drifted off, at peace for the first time in days.

Part Fifteen  

They moved like a dark wind through the trees, their white heads turning
in tandem, their pale faces shining with rage. Gone were the quips and
laughter. Only pain remained, only a vicious need to destroy. They were
silent, deadly, the only sounds the occasional grunt or howl when they
were knocked into something. No toying, no playing, just focused hatred. 
Occasionally, one of them would snap and whatever vampire or demon was
unfortunate enough could hear the murmured words as pain wracked through
its body right before its death. “Bastard, fucking coward, motherfucker
will pay, bathe in his blood.” Muttered over and over as dead eyes stared
into the victim.

News quickly spread that Sunnydale was no longer safe. Not that it had
ever been before, but now the Slayer and the Vampire seemed possessed,
were working as a team, had become the predators and not the prey. Only
the foolish would cross their paths now. And only those with a death wish
would make any move towards the dark haired man that accompanied them,
that they kept protected at all costs. Even one step in his direction
would ensure that all attention would be directed towards the offender. 
In that case, it was best to pray that the Slayer noticed, for she would
simply and efficiently kill whatever had been so unwise.

But if the being was unlucky, then the Vampire would see. Death would be
slow in coming. The railroad spike would appear in his hand, pulled from
one of those deep, deep pockets in the black leather duster he always
wore. He would set to work, causing such pain as had never been dreamed
of in all the depths of hell. He would keep at it for hours, his eyes
pools of rage and pain, cutting his fury into the flesh of the offender. 
Then, when he was satisfied that the being could not move, could not harm
his consort in any way, he would hand the stake to his lover, watching as
the man set to work, a look of pride crossing his face as his lover moved
to take over, as he gave quiet instruction, as he heard the howls of rage
drop from the man’s lips until finally, finally the merciful release of
death. Word spread fast. Don’t harm the man. He was off-limits, he was
the Vampire’s and the Slayer’s. And his own bloodlust was the equal of
both.
==========================================================================

“no, no, please, no NO NO NO” The screaming began as Xander jerked awake,
jumping from the bed, eyes glassy as he felt the hands moving on his body,
felt the kicks into his flesh, felt the tearing begin. He backed into the
wall, slowly sliding down as his eyes lost focus.

Spike knelt next to him, hands ghosting across Xander’s body, careful not
to actually touch him, merely seeking to let Xander feel his presence. 
His heart twisted as he watched Xander’s head jerk back as if being
slapped, heard the begging spill from Xander’s lips, saw the absence in
his eyes.

Xander slowly curled into a ball on the floor, shaking as he felt the
penetration begin, heard his father's voice echoing in his ears. **You
disgrace, should have killed you a long time ago** The words pounding
into his mind as he saw the hand rise, saw the gleaming edge of the knife,
felt the vicious pain as it slammed into his flesh. He rocked back and
forth, trying to calm himself, hearing Spike’s voice in his ear.

“Just a dream, just a dream, I’m here, you’re safe, it’s fine, here, we’re
home, he’s not here, just a dream,” the words dropped into his mind,
cooling the heat there, rippling through the ocean of hate. “I’m here,
don’t worry, safe now, safe now.”

Slowly, slowly the panting stopped and Xander felt cautious hands reach
out to pull him into Spike’s lap, his head resting there while strong
hands ran down his back, trying to loosen the tight muscles. Xander
shuddered once, an automatic reaction to the feel of flesh touching his
own. Spike stopped, leaving his hand there but not moving. Swallowing
hard, Xander reached an arm around, draping it across Spike’s legs,
forcing himself back to the present, realizing that the touch was his
lover’s, that he was here with someone who would never, ever hurt him,
would never allow him to feel pain again.

Spike resumed his stroking, beginning a low, comforting purr, trying to
lull Xander back to sleep. The nightmares were getting worse and worse,
and he was becoming increasingly frightened by Xander’s inability to
sleep. The worst part was that Xander refused to tell him what the
nightmares were, refused to speak of them. Spike didn’t know if that was
good or not. All his studies were contradictory. Some texts recommended
forcing the issue while others stated flatly that only harm could come of
premature revelations. Spike had decided to strike a middle note, asking
each time what the nightmare contained, letting Xander know he could say
anything, but not forcing him to do so.

“Sounded bad, luv. What was it?” Spike’s voice low and calm, the
stroking never stopping.

Xander swallowed again, then slowly turned over, moving so that he was
lying face up in Spike’s lap, able to see those beautiful eyes.

“Just, stuff,” he shuddered, not willing to discuss how he could still
feel his father’s hands.

“Sure, pet, you can tell me, you know. I want to know.” Again, quiet and
calm, no trace of the rage that Spike felt growing in him at the fact that
the bastard was still alive.

“Yeah, I know. Don’t want to talk about it.” Xander slowly pushed
himself up to a seated position. Spike stood, reached down and helped
Xander to his feet.

“How about some hot chocolate, then? Got marshmallows and everything.” 
Spike ran his hands along Xander’s arms, still feeling the faint trembling
there.

Xander gave Spike a small smile, knowing full well that this was Spike’s
ultimate comfort food, the taste of it somehow making Spike content. They
headed down the hall to the kitchen, Xander yawning hugely. He was so
tired. Over the last three months, his sleep had become more and more
fragmented. It seemed the healthier his body became, the more his mind
attacked him. He had almost completely recovered, spending his time
training with Buffy and Spike. He had quickly gained strength and
agility, focusing on learning how to protect himself. He had finally
convinced Spike to return to patrol after about a month, knowing that
Spike desperately needed the relief of violence. Spike had initially
resisted, flatly refusing to leave Xander alone. Xander had pleaded over
the space of a week, finally reaching a compromise. Spike would patrol
with Xander accompanying him. However, Xander was not allowed to fight
and Spike stayed within five feet of him at all times. Xander had readily
agreed, and, slowly, Spike had given Xander freer rein, gradually allowing
him to fight the smaller fledglings. He still refused to allow Xander out
of his sight, however. Not that Xander minded. He didn’t feel secure
unless they were in each other’s presence either.

Spike and Buffy still were furious, still tried to talk him out of his
plan for revenge. They wanted immediate gratification, Spike, in
particular, growing more and more frustrated with each day that passed
that Xander held him back from simply ripping out his father’s throat, no
matter what the chip did to him. Buffy was barely better, vowing that she
would take his father, bring him back to Spike and Xander’s house, act as
Spike’s hands as Spike told her exactly what to do. The only thing
holding either of them back was Xander’s promise that soon, soon, they
would act. No matter how frustrated either of them became, they both
understood that it was Xander’s right to take revenge.

Xander had focused all his attention on training and learning the various
arts of torture that Spike was only too happy to teach him. Their morning
discussions were no longer theoretical. Now, Xander took an active part
in discussing just how his father would suffer. His mother had managed to
bail his father out of jail, how, Xander didn’t care. The trial was about
four months away, and Xander had begun steeling himself for the testimony
he would have to give. Giles, Willow and Tara were working on finding
some better way to protect Spike from the sun so that he could accompany
Xander to court without having to sneak in under a blanket through a side
entrance.

They made their way into the kitchen, Spike continuing to purr softly,
seeing that Xander was beginning to relax. He wished Xander would take
the sleeping pills he had been prescribed. Xander flatly refused,
however, stating that he didn’t like the loss of control. Spike knew that
Xander needed control above all else, so he had relented.

Spike turned to the refrigerator and reached for the milk while Xander
opened the cupboard and removed a small pan. As he turned to place it on
the stove, he caught the side of his arm on the corner of the open door,
scraping it along the rough edge of the open door. His eyes shot open as
the old, familiar sting ripped through his body. **OH SHIT, so good, so
good, more, want more** He raised the arm to his mouth, twisting it so
that he could lap up the blood. His hands began to shake as the taste ran
through his body. He felt the desperate longing suddenly rise to the
surface, no longer able to deny want he craved. The desire had been
burning in him ever since he regained consciousness in the hospital and
every day it was becoming harder and harder to resist that siren call. He
stared at the knives on the counter, moving closer and reaching out,
blocking out everything but that need.

Spike’s head shot around at the sudden scent of blood. **What the hell** 
He saw Xander with an arm to his mouth, saw his eyes suddenly darken, saw
the hands reaching for the knives. With a strangled cry, he wrapped his
arms around Xander, yanking him away. This was what he had feared, what
he had been waiting and watching for. Too much had happened for Xander
not to fall back to this.

“Let go.” Xander growled out, unable to focus on anything other than the
need.

“No, Xander, please, no, don’t. . .” Spike began, as Xander suddenly began
to pull against him. Tightening his grip, he fought back the pain that
hit as he frantically tried to restrain Xander.

“Fuck you, what do you know, let me go, bastard, fuck you, can’t help me,
don’t understand,” the vicious words poured out as Xander fought those
strong arms. Turning quickly, he threw Spike across the room.

Panting, he yanked the knife from the block and placed it against his
wrist, feeling the cold, cold glint of steel. He closed his eyes and
licked his lips, savoring this moment, knowing that peace was nigh.

Suddenly, he realized that the room was quiet, that he could hear no sound
from the vampire. He looked down and went perfectly still. Spike lay on
the floor, head at a peculiar angle, blood dripping from his mouth. The
knife clattered to the floor as Xander’s ran over, kneeling at Spike’s
side.

“Spike, Spike,” Xander desperately called out. “Oh shit, Spike,” he began
to shake Spike, frantically trying to get any response. Nothing. Xander
glanced around, realizing that Spike’s head had struck the edge of the
counter.

“Spike, please, I’m sorry, oh fuck, please,” Xander keened, his hands
roaming over Spike’s body. **His neck, I broke his neck**

Spike suddenly let out a groan. “Bloody hell, why did I ever teach you
that?” He opened his eyes to see Xander just staring down.

“Spike, can you move, please tell me you can move, can you feel this?” 
The relief at hearing Spike’s voice was fleeting as Xander began to press
at Spike’s arms and legs.

“Ow, shit, Xander, what are you doing?” Spike yelped out, feeling the
pinching all over his body. He pulled himself up, Xander closely
following, then leaned against the counter, rubbing the side of his head. 
“Think you got your strength back there, luv.”

Spike shook his head, clearing his thoughts, then suddenly struck out,
grabbing Xander’s wrists. He flipped Xander’s arms over, inspecting the
flesh. Nothing, no lines. His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer,
inhaling deeply, scenting for the blood. Only the ragged edge from the
accidental cut yielded any trace.

Xander stood still, allowing the inspection, head down, shame washing over
him. He deserved this, he had broken Spike’s trust. He kept his head
down, unwilling to meet Spike’s gaze.

Spike let out a shaky breath, then pulled Xander over to sit under the
window. He had been expecting this, knew it was coming, didn’t blame
Xander, though he knew Xander would blame himself. He sat down, then
settled Xander onto his lap, gently pushing the table aside.

“Luv, I’m fine.” No response. He pulled Xander tighter. “Xander, I
don’t blame you. You’ve been through a lot, it’s only natural that you
would need that.” He tightened his grip as he felt Xander begin to shake.
“Just because I understand doesn’t mean that I’m going to stand by and
let you, but I won’t get mad at you for wanting it.” He heard the sudden
inhale of breath then felt Xander begin to relax, just a little. He
started purring again, knowing this would calm the man in his arms.

Xander stayed there for a few moments, then pulled back, reaching up to
feel the rapidly healing bump on Spike’s head. “Sorry, just, hit me, you
know.” He tilted his head, the realization suddenly striking him. He
pulled back, looking deep into Spike’s eyes.

“Is this what you feel like, wanting to go after that bastard?” They had
long since quit referring to that beast as his father.

Spike stared back, nodding slowly. That was why he couldn’t be angry with
Xander, this was why he understood the bloodlust. It was all he could do
to respect Xander’s wishes, all he could do to not just destroy that which
had harmed what was his.

Xander’s eyes darkened. How could he have not realized the pain he was
causing his lover, his friends. Enough, it was enough.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t realize.” He licked his lips, leaned down and placed
a light kiss on Spike’s lips. “No more. It’s time. I’ll call Buffy. 
Tomorrow night.”

Spike just stared back. “Are you sure?” He felt a cruel smile cross his
lips. **About bloody time**

“Fuck, yeah.” A matching smile on his mate’s mouth. They stared at each
other, then Spike released Xander, allowing him to stand. He reached
over, grabbing the phone from the table.

“Here you go, luv, you call, I’ll make the hot chocolate. Want to get to
sleep soon,” his eyes narrowed, “It’ll be a busy night tomorrow.”

Xander nodded, hitting the speed dial. He looked at the clock. Just
after midnight, Buffy should be home.

“Hello,” the quick reply. 

“Buffy, it’s time.”

“When.” He heard the rage immediately slam into her voice.

“Tomorrow. Meet me here at noon so we can get set up.”

“Fine. About time.” Spike nodded, hearing her from over by the stove. 

“Yeah, that’s what Spike thinks, too. See you at noon. Spike will get
the stuff together while we’re gone.”

“’K.” 

With that he hung up and moved to sit by lover at the counter, the knife
long forgotten as he thought of just how sweet the next night would be. 
Spike slid over a cup, marshmallows floating on top. They drank quickly,
then headed off for bed. Spike was right, they would both need their
rest. None of them would be sleeping for the next few days.
==========================================================================

Willow shot another worried look down the street as Xander fit the key
into the lock.

“Are you sure they aren’t home?” she asked for the fifth time since they
had arrived. She was eager to get started, but, at the same time, a
little concerned. What would happen if they were interrupted.

“Yeah, the car’s gone, besides, even if they were here, they’re too drunk
to notice.” Xander quickly opened the door, smiling bitterly at the fact
that they hadn’t even bothered to change the locks. He shrugged, if they
were so stupid, they deserved whatever they got.

Buffy and Anya followed Xander, Willow and Tara into the basement,
carrying a large trunk between them. Xander looked around, face
tightening as the memories struck him. He took a deep breath,
concentrating only on the good. **There, right there is where Spike first
drank from me** Pretty much every thing was the way he and Spike had left
it, the couch still there, a thick layer of dust over everything.

“Where do you want this,” Anya called over. “It’s getting kind of heavy.”
Buffy just rolled her eyes at that.

“Just put it down anywhere, doesn’t really matter.” Xander moved over,
opened the trunk and began pulling out the heavy black drapery. 
Meanwhile, Willow began setting small bowls around the room while Tara
took out a small mortar and pestle and began grinding herbs. Buffy and
Anya quickly tacked the hangings over the windows, while Xander pulled the
table into the center of the room. He pulled the bolt of black silk out,
draped it on the table, habitually spreading a circle into the center of
the fabric, the movements of the ritual coming automatically. He took out
the candleholders, set the candles in place, then stepped back. Nodding,
he looked around the room, satisfied that all was ready. He watched as
Buffy pulled the couch and chair back, replacing the recliner with a tall,
high backed chair. She coiled the rope by the legs of the chair, then
she, too, stepped back, satisfied. They looked over at Willow and Tara.

“We can begin now, just take a few minutes,” Willow said as Tara began
sprinkling the mixture into the various bowls. “Why don’t you just wait
outside.”

Anya led the way out the door and they stood there, listening to the soft
chanting. A few minutes passed, then Willow and Tara came out the door.

“All finished, no one will be able to hear a thing, he can scream all he
wants.” Xander had never seen Willow like this, had never seen such a
look of hatred curling across her features. He grabbed her in a quick
hug, then they left, Anya going with Willow and Tara, Buffy accompanying
him.

“What time are we leaving,” her hands were twitching, anticipating the
blood that was soon to flow.

“The second the sun goes down, you would not believe what I had to do to
convince Spike that he couldn’t just wait in the back until the bastard
comes home.” Xander glanced over, feeling the anticipation build.

“I can imagine, no, wait, actually, I don’t want to imagine,” Buffy said
with a small grin. She began to bounce up and down, the tension building.
“Do you think Spike will let me help him pack up the stuff?” she asked
hopefully.

“Doubt it, probably already done, he was up when I left.” Xander smiled at
the thought. Spike had followed him to the door, reluctant to let him
leave, they had only been apart for a few hours at a time since the
attack. However, Xander had planned ahead and had accounted for the
half-hour or so that it would take them to say goodbye.

“Ohh, she said disappointed. “Well, well, what are we going to do until
we leave?” **Seven hours, only seven hours more**

“Spike’s making lunch.”

Buffy just raised her eyebrows at that. “What’s he making, blood
pudding?”

“No, lasagna.”

Buffy just shook her head at that. Spike, making lasagna for a Slayer. 
Her life just got odder by the day.

==========================================================================
The pounding continued. “I said, just a minute. Fucking idiot.” 
Xander’s father bellowed out as he stumbled to the door. “What do you
want?” he growled looking down at the small girl he vaguely recognized as
one of his bastard son’s friends.

His only response was a sharp kick which caught him along the right side
of his face, knocking him back into the hallway. Buffy strode in after
him with Xander right behind.

“Spike, why don’t you come in?” Xander held out his hand as he extended
the invitation.

“Happy to, luv.” 

“What’s going on out here?” Xander’s mother called as she came around the
corner, eyes opening wide when she saw her husband lying motionless on the
floor, some woman staring down at him with hate, a white haired man next
to her with ever more hate on his face. She looked up to see her son
standing in the doorway.

“Hello, mom.” The words snapped out with contempt. “Came to pay dear old
dad here a visit.”

Xander skulked over, grabbing her as she turned to run. “Oh, I don’t
think so. Think you’re going to call the police? You would call the
police for him, not for me. Just lovely. No, I don’t think so. Besides,
I have the feeling that they wouldn’t be too quick to come to that thing’s
rescue.” He pulled her over into a chair, Spike right behind him.

“Stupid bint, letting him do to that to your child, well, time to pay the
piper, ducks.” The voice hissed in her ear as she felt cold, cold fingers
press against her throat. “Much as I want to kill you, your precious
child there won’t let me, so you’re just going to have to sleep for
awhile.” With that, he stepped back, letting Buffy have her turn.

“You bitch.” With that, Buffy swung, knocking Xander’s mother out cold. 
They quickly tied her to the chair, then Buffy pressed the cloth over her
face.

“Sure that will be enough,” Spike asked quietly. 

“Yes, Giles said that would knock her out for at least three days.”

“Good,” Xander’s voice rang through the air. “Let’s get the bastard
downstairs.”

“Same way as last time, pet?” Spike walked over, ready to help, eager to
feel that flesh beneath his hands. The pain was bearable, there, but
bearable.

“You bet.” With that, Xander grabbed his father’s feet and began dragging
him down the basement stairs, once again making sure that he rammed his
father’s head into any and every thing he could find.

Spike followed, ready to help should Xander show any signs of being tired.
Buffy grabbed the small duffel bag Spike had dropped to the floor, closed
the front door and followed them down the stairs.


Xander’s father’s eyes slowly opened, taking in the odd vision before him.
He was tied to a chair, in some room. A low murmur reached his ears,
some stupid song. The room was shrouded in black, a table in front of him
covered in black silk, two candles on it, a lockbox in the center. He
shook his head, confused. He looked up, only to find himself staring into
three cruel, cruel faces.

“Oh, look, he’s finally awake.” The girl’s voice, mocking and cold.

“Finally, thought we were going to have to do something drastic,” the
words in a British drawl, even crueler if possible.

“No, that’s for later.” His bastard son’s voice. 

“What the fuck is this, what the hell do you think you’re doing, you
fucking faggot.”

He heard a sharp intake of breath, then his head snapped back as the
blonde viciously slapped him.

“You don’t get to speak. Not to Xander, not now, not ever again. You
asshole, if I didn’t plan on hearing you scream I would just cut your
tongue out right now.” Buffy stood there, fists clenched visibly trying
to keep from lashing out.

Xander reached over, pulling her away. “Maybe later.”

Xander leaned down, staring his father in the eye. “Did you really think
you would get away with it, did you really think that I wouldn’t get my
revenge? You must be stupider than I ever thought. You know, you were
right, one of us is a disgrace, one of us should have been killed a long
time ago. Just not me.” He leaned back up, reaching out to take Spike’s
hand.

“I don’t think you were ever properly introduced. This is William, my
lover. My partner. My mate. He’s also known as Spike. Do you know how
he got the name Spike?” Xander paused, wrapping his arms around Spike’s
waist, leaning his head on Spike’s shoulder.

Xander’s father just glared back, disgust in his eyes. He opened his
mouth, but never got to speak. Buffy reached out, hand moving quicker
than he could see, grasping his tongue.

“I thought I told you not to speak.” Her voice was low and calm, but her
fingers never let go. The bastard’s eyes began to water as the pain
rolled through him. She tugged a little harder. “Please, Xan, it’ll be
fun.”

“No, later, I said I wanted to hear him scream.” 

Reluctantly, Buffy let go, running an edge of her fingernail across the
top of his tongue, the blood beginning to drip down. “Hope you learned
your lesson,” she whispered in his ear as she moved away.

“As I was saying,” Xander resumed, running a hand through Spike’s hair,
“Do you know how Spike got his name? No, didn’t think so. You see, Spike
is infamous for torturing people with railroad spikes, rusty railroad
spikes at that, so, he started to go by Spike.”

Xander leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lover’s cheek, seeing those
blue eyes burn into the bastard’s, holding him trapped in his gaze. “Oh,
yes, one more thing, did I happen to mention, he’s also a vampire.”

At that, Spike morphed into gameface, relishing the fear that suddenly
radiated from the sack of shit in the chair before him. He leaned down,
grasping Xander’s hand as the pain began to build, snarling, fully
exposing his fangs.

“Right, mate. A vampire. We are real you know. And you touched what’s
mine. The penalty for that is death.”

Xander’s father began to shake, squeezing his eyes shut. It was a
nightmare, not real, not real. His eyes shot back open as he felt another
kick, this one to his ribs, this one harder then before. He felt the snap
as they broke, heard the sick, sick noise.

Xander caught Spike as he fell, dragging him behind his father. There was
no way that he was going to let his father see just how much it hurt Spike
to exact his revenge. Spike lay on the floor, shaking, then nodded
slightly, biting down hard on the towel that Xander had placed in his
mouth to muffle his cries.

Buffy had moved to take Spike’s place in front of Xander’s father,
luxuriating in the whimpers now coming from the man. “Oh, you think that
hurt, that’s nothing, nothing compared to what’s coming.” With that she
again pulled his mouth open, pouring salt over the cut on his tongue. He
began to scream as the agony hit. Louder and louder, knowing someone
would come. Buffy just laughed, leaning in closer. “Scream all you want,
no one will hear. You see, there’s so much that you never bothered to
learn about Xander’s friends. Like the fact that his partner is a
vampire. Like the fact that I’m a vampire slayer. Like the fact that
Willow is a witch. We made sure that no one will hear you scream, you
just go right ahead. Music to my ears.” With that, she hit him again,
throwing all her strength behind it, hearing the snapping of his jaw.

Xander moved back around to face his father, seeing the blood drip down,
hearing the moans and whimpers coming from the bastard.

“You’re probably wondering what all this is for,” Xander cast his hand
around the room. “Well, when I told Buffy and Spike that they couldn’t
just make you eat your heart, I had to give them a better idea. You see,
I found a way to help ease the pain from all the times you raped me.” 
Xander never took his eyes from his father’s face, watching as his words
beat into him. “I used to cut myself. Over and over and over again. 
Sometimes not for months. Sometimes several times a day. What you see
now is how I used to best deal with the pain, the ritual I used to
perform.” Xander leaned in closer, grabbing his father’s jaw, hearing the
scream as he crushed the broken bones together. “The last time I did this
was the night after you raped me a week after Anya left. I went a little
too far, cut my left arm open. Almost died. Spike found me, saved my
life. I want you to think about that, a demon without a soul cared for me
more than you did. What does that make you?’

Spike slowed came around, moving to stand next to the table, reaching into
the pocket of his duster and pulling out a key. He handed it to Xander,
who nodded a quick thanks.

“So, after you tried to kill me, after you stabbed me then raped me, when
all they wanted to do was kill you and let me drink your blood, I told
them no. You see, that was too simple, the easy way out. Then, you would
be dead and it would be over. You wouldn’t have to have nightmares almost
every night, you wouldn’t have to flinch whenever someone touched you from
behind, you wouldn’t try to hurt the person you love when they try to stop
you from hurting yourself. No, you would be dead. And no one would know
what you had done. This way is much better.”

Turning his back to the howling man before him, Xander walked to the
table. He reached down, unlocking the lockbox, pulling out the box with
his knife. Buffy moved over, joining Spike on either side as Xander
slowly opened the box, slowly ran his finger across the blade, longing
visible in his face. He slowly smiled, and the three of them turned back
around.

“I’m going to do to you everything I did to myself. Then Buffy is going
to have a chance to beat you like you beat me. Then Spike, well, Spike is
going to teach you just how he got his name. But we aren’t going to kill
you. No, you’re going to live. Then you’re going to trial. And I’m
going to tell the world just what a sick fuck you are. Do you know what
happens to rapists in jail, do you? Do you know what happens to rapist
who rape their own sons, do you? It’s going to make this seem like
heaven.”

With that, Xander reached down, looking straight into his father’s eyes. 
“And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, then I will let them do
what they want. Nothing will be able to stop them.”

“You bastard,” the words spilled out from blood drenched lips.

Buffy slapped his father, making sure to hit on exactly the site of the
break. “Scream all you want, but I told you, no speaking. You will never
speak to him again.”

Spike merely leaned down, pulling off the bastard’s shoes, then removing
his socks. He reached out, yellow flickering in his eyes, hands shaking
from the pain shooting through his mind, but able to control it. He and
Buffy had spent hours doing this, Buffy standing still while Spike hit her
or tried to hit her, building up his tolerance for the pain. He pulled a
knife from his boots, cutting the clothes off, until he was sitting there,
naked.

Xander turned, picking up the piece of glass that was lying on the table,
reluctantly putting down the knife. “I was fourteen when I first learned
how good it felt. You beat me, raped me, left me for dead. Crawled
through broken glass, felt the sting. It was so pure. Let’s see what you
think.” With that, he grabbed his father’s right forearm, dragging the
sharp edge up the arm, mouth opening when he saw the blood begin to flow. 
His father began to squirm in the chair, muffled cries coming out from his
rapidly swelling face. “Oh, you like that, do you?” Xander continued to
carve, adding another line next to the first, careful to not press too
deeply. He didn’t want to cause scarring, saving that for later.

“Glass is good, when you can get it, but sometimes you have to take what
you can find.” Xander put the glass back on the table, this time reaching
for the jagged piece of metal lying there. “Anything sharp will do in a
pinch. Now arms are the best, feels the best, the greatest relief. But,
if you don’t want anyone to see, then you have to be more careful.”

With that, Spike finished untying his father’s arms. Spike held them in a
firm grip over the bastard’s head as Xander leaned over and began to run
the edge along his father’s waist. “You see, this is good,” his voice
faded as he moved around the body, feeling his father trying to squirm
away. Buffy came over and held the struggling man still. “This way, you
feel it all day long, whenever you move.” Slowly, slowly he moved,
savoring every drop of blood that fell onto his hands, drinking in the
hysterical note to his father’s cries. Finally, he finished, dropping the
metal to the floor. Spike immediately tied his father’s arms down while
Buffy moved to release his feet.

His father weakly kicked out, catching Buffy across the cheek. Xander
immediately punched him in the ribs, aiming directly for the same spot
Spike had kicked.

“You are stupider than I thought, fuck, you think you could really fight
us all.” Xander just shook his head. He felt Spike’s hand on his
shoulder, felt the weight of Spike’s knife pressed into his hand. Spike
and Buffy moved back to their positions flanking Xander’s father, ready to
stop him should he lash out again.

“A knife really is best though, cleaner edge, more control,” Xander bent
down and picked up one of the feet. He began tracing lines down the sole
of each foot, the involuntary gasps and moans filling the room. He moved
onto the top of each foot, carving a circle there. “This, this is great
because when you walk you can’t help but feel it. And speaking of
walking. . .”

Buffy nodded, then untied the bastard’s legs while Spike again untied his
arms. Buffy moved to hold onto the man, seeing how pale Spike was,
knowing that the pain must be excruciating. Buffy turned him around so
that his back was to Xander. Xander kneeled down and placed the tips of
the knife behind the left knee. “If you want to feel it when you walk, do
this.” With that, he yanked the blade down, delighting in the shrieking
that began. He moved back and forth, one leg than the other, seeing the
flesh part. Finally, he motioned for Buffy to sit him back down.

“Just tie his legs, make sure they are apart so I can get at his thighs”
he murmured to Spike, who dropped a quick kiss on Xander’s temple, pride
filling him. Xander had learned well, knew that pain alone wasn’t the
key. No, it was this cut by cut description of what Xander had suffered
that would cause the most agony.

Xander leaned down, running his hands along his father’s thighs. “If you
aren’t going to be getting naked around anyone anytime soon, the thighs
are always good too.” He cut the lines, careful to keep them precise and
even, each line exactly the same length. Finally satisfied, he leaned
back up.

“Lift his arms in the air.” Buffy quickly complied and Xander moved to
straddle his father. “If you don’t want to bother with blood, then you
can just do this.” With that, he began to rub the knife along the man’s
sides, rubbing the flesh raw. “Really hurts when you’re wearing cotton
and it sticks.” He moved slowly, Spike forcing the head down so that
Xander could see exactly how much agony he was causing.

When both sides were rubbed raw, Buffy let his arms down, tying them flat
to the arms of the chair. With that, Xander moved back to pick up his
knife, twirling the blade in his hands.

“I bought this for one purpose and one purpose only. To open my own
flesh. Seem to have finally found a better use for it.”

Xander began running the blade slowly, so slowly along the flesh of his
father’s right arm, his breath coming faster and faster. Each cut
slightly deeper than the last until ten perfect lines appeared. “This is
what I did that night, this is what you made me do, for no reason, I never
did anything to you. I thought for years that I had caused it, that there
was something about me. There wasn’t. It was you, always you, nothing
about me.” The strangled cries were louder and Xander felt hot tears drop
on his shoulder. “Oh, does that hurt. Really, you know what, think I
know that.”

He moved to the left arm, began hacking away, feeling the rage begin to
slip, listening to the screaming coming louder and louder. Finally, he
cut the arm free, pulled it into the air.

“And this, this is how I almost died.”

He pulled the knife down his father’s arm, careful not to go as deeply as
he had, wanting the blood to come out but not pour down. There was no way
he was going to let the piece of shit die. No, he wanted him to live a
nice, long, unhappy life as someone’s bitch. Done, he watched the blood
drip down.

“One last thing, the most desperate of all. If you truly, truly need it
and want to make sure no one knows, there’s always this.” With that he
ran the very tip of the knife along the length of his father’s penis.

The screams cut off as his father passed out. Panting, Xander pulled
away, drenched in blood.

“Why don’t you get cleaned up. Make you feel better.” Spike’s voice in
his ear. “Looks like he will be out for a little before Slayer gets her
chance. Don’t like to see the bastard’s blood on you.” Xander nodded and
moved for the shower, grabbing a towel from the bag along with the spare
set of clothes Spike had packed.

Spike and Buffy stood over the chair, gazing down. Finally, Buffy looked
up, tears in her eyes.

“Is that what happened, he cut himself, almost died?” Buffy was shaking,
she hadn’t known, Xander hadn’t told her just why he needed to use the
knife.

Spike nodded. “Yes. If I hadn’t come over that night, he probably would
have died.” His eyes closed as the sight of Xander’s still body came to
him. **Over, it’s over, never again** He couldn’t help it though, he
moved back to check that Xander had left the knife. A sigh escaped him
when he saw it there. He listened closely, hearing the sounds of the
shower, the memories spilling into him. He turned back, eyes blazing
yellow.

“Spike, gods, Spike,” Buffy stopped, unsure of how to continue. “No
wonder you were so angry, how could we have never seen?” She stopped,
turning her pain into the rage she felt growing.

“Because he didn’t want you to, Slayer.” Spike forced the words out. “He
knew what he was doing.”

“Does he still do it?” Buffy asked, wincing as she saw the pain cross
Spike’s face.

“It was a near thing last night. That’s why we’re here, why he finally
decided it was time.”

Buffy just nodded, watching the face of that thing in the chair, seeing
the head toss back and forth. It was coming back to consciousness. Good.
Her turn.

Xander emerged from the bathroom, wearing one of Spike’s shirts, the scent
of it helping to calm his shaking. He moved to stand next to Spike,
reaching out for his hand. He did feel better, calmer, the rage dying
down, replaying the scene in his mind. He supposed he should feel guilty,
but he didn’t. No court could ever extract the proper kind of justice.

They watched as the bastard slowly opened his eyes, watching them widen in
fear as he saw Buffy standing directly in front of him.

“Wish I could think of something witty to say. Can’t. Wish I had done
this years ago. Wish he would let me kill you.” With that her fist
lashed out, knocking his jaw the other way, hearing the snap. She laid
into him with vicious cries, striking out again and again, first with her
fists, then her feet, clawing red lines down his face, pulling out tufts
of hair. She methodically moved up his body, driving the toe of her boots
into his groin, making sure to connect with the cut there. Spike finally
reached out, pulling her back, ignoring her cry of protest, ignoring the
pain in his head.

“Slayer, he’s unconscious again. Don’t want to break too many bones, now,
has to live remember.”

Buffy spun for one last kick, striking the ribs on the opposite side from
Spike’s kick. She moved over, throwing herself into Xander’s arms, the
tears falling on them both, the pain and rage pouring out. Xander just
held her, knowing the was weeping for them both, for the pain that Xander
had endured. Finally, she calmed, pushing away and leaning up to place a
gentle kiss on Xander’s cheek.

“I am so sorry.” Nothing was enough, nothing would ever make up for their
ignorance of his pain.

Xander kissed her forehead, then moved to stand next to Spike who was just
staring down with a feral look in his eyes.

“You sure you want to try this?” Xander was concerned, the echoes of
Spike’s head striking the floor when the seizure had overtaken him ringing
in Xander’s ears. Being back in the basement was causing all the memories
to surface, each of them clear and true.

“Bloody hell, yes.” There was no way that Spike could stop now.

Xander nodded, moving back to the bag. “Have the blood right here, just,
remember, Buffy gets to pull you off if I think it’s gone too far.”

Spike just nodded, sensing consciousness returning to the body in front of
him.

“Slayer. It is time. Untie him.” The tone of authority rang out. Buffy
moved quickly, releasing the man, then bending him over the chair, tying
his hand together then tying that rope to the couch. She spread his legs
wide, tying each one to the bars that had been placed in the basement
earlier in the day.

Spike knelt next to the chair, the pain from the chip serving only to fuel
his fire. He saw those eyes open and stared straight into them, yellow
eyes burning madly.

“Now you will know pain. I can do things that you have never imagined. I
can make it last for days. You will beg to die and I will not allow it. 
I will never allow it. If my mate would let me, I would turn you and keep
you alive in the torments of hell forever. But he is more compassionate
than I. Pity, that.” The words rang out, Buffy and Xander taking an
involuntary step backwards. Neither had ever seen this, never experienced
Spike in the full power of his fury. He reached out, pulled the spike
from his coat and moved to stand behind the man.

“It’s a pity you are so weak, there is so much I long to do.” With that,
Spike began to slowly work the end of the spike underneath the skin at the
base of the bastard’s skull. The screaming began in earnest as Spike
dragged the spike down, so so slowly, tracing the line of the vertebrae.

“You see, done correctly, I can remove your spine, one vertebrae at a time
and show it to you. But, no, I won’t. Want you to be able to move, to
perform for whoever wants you as a toy when you get to prison.” Finally,
he reached the base of the spine. Curving his hand, he began to trace
lines into the skin, starting right below the mark on the man’s waist.

“My mate learned well, not that I had much to teach him. You made sure of
that.” Spike’s hands were beginning to shake, his vision beginning to
blur as the pain grew and grew. The cuts grew more ragged as he moved
quickly. Stepping back, he took several deep breaths, allowing the pain
to recede slightly. He sensed Xander beginning to move towards him and he
held up a hand. Not yet. Just a little more. Reluctantly jettisoning
the remainder of his plans, he proceeded directly to his ultimate goal.

“So, you like giving it. Let’s see how you like taking it.” Pressing
down on the cuts on the back, he placed the tip of the spike against the
bastard’s anus and began to shove it home. Howling erupted as the blood
began to flow. Spike felt the seizure hit, felt Buffy’s hands yank him
away, saw Xander run over, a cup in his hands, felt his head being lifted,
the cup held to his mouth.

“Drink, you need it drink,” Xander’s voice. He opened his mouth, prepared
for the rich taste of Xander’s blood. He swallowed and his eyes shot
open. Not Xander’s. Buffy’s. Slayer blood, the purest of all. He felt
the power pour into him, the blood instantly stopping the pain.

He sat up, staring into Buffy’s eyes. “Slayer.” The word breathed out,
shock in his voice.

Buffy just stared back. “It was the least I could do,” she said quietly. 
“The only apology I had.”

He just nodded, turning back to the body on the chair. Xander had pulled
the spike out, knowing that going deeper would only cause a tear that
could kill his father. He meant what he said. There was no way he was
going to let him die. The torment of living would be much worse.

He was unconscious again. The blood slowly stopped pouring down. The
trio just watched, unmoving, unblinking. Spike scented deeply.

“He’ll live,” disapproval clear in his voice.

“Good,” the flat response from Xander. “Let him suffer. They’ll kill him
in prison.”

Buffy just nodded. She moved forward, untied him, let the body slump onto
the floor. She went back upstairs and quickly returned carrying Xander’s
mother in her arms. She placed her on the floor next to Xander’s father.

“She should get the message.” The flat tone of her voice betrayed nothing
of her emotions.

Xander looked at his watch. 3:30 a.m. He quickly stripped the cloth from
the window, Spike moving behind him, helping clear the room. Quickly,
everything was packed back into the trunk. Buffy hauled the trunk up the
back steps, carrying it out to the car.

Spike stood next to Xander, just leaning into his shoulder. Xander
sighed, exhausted. He felt something press into his hand. He looked
down, curious as to what it could be.

It was the knife. He looked over, stunned. Spike just stared back. 
Without a word, Xander walked to the table, lifted up the box, put the
knife back in, closed it, walked back and handed it to Spike.

They headed out into the night, wanting nothing more but to go home and go
to sleep.

Part Sixteen  

"All rise."
With that, all in the courtroom stood, Willow reaching out to take Tara's hand. The trial had started three days earlier and they had all been there every day, arranging themselves in a row behind the prosecution. Willow had been unable to tear her eyes away from the thing that was Xander's father, feeling her eyes fill with tears as she was forced to change all her memories of the man. All those years, all that time and she had never known, had never suspected a thing. She still couldn't forgive herself, couldn't believe that she hadn't felt something, hadn't known that something was horribly, horribly wrong. It destroyed her to know that Spike had discovered, that Spike was the one to whom Xander now immediately turned. She turned her head slightly to see Spike leaning on the wall in the corner, the one place that the sun didn't reach as it moved past the windows. They had been unable to find anything to protect him, so he simply drove in with Xander, watched him walk through the front doors then took off under a blanket for the side door that Giles had arranged to have open for him. Each time he would begin to smoke slightly, but he refused to stay behind. 
Xander had testified for a day and a half. It had been devastating. He had calmly and clearly set forth in detail exactly how his father had abused him. As long as he could remember, his father had hit him. It wasn't until he was eleven that his father had begun raping him, too. Half his life. For almost exactly half his life his father had used him. Xander hadn't broken down once, not even under the intense cross-examination. The only way that Willow had been able to tell that Xander was hurting was the way that he locked eyes with Spike. Willow could feel the electricity between them, could nearly see the bond between them. When Xander had finally left the stand, he went immediately to stand with Spike. Their hands had locked and they stood there, still as statues while the officers who had responded to the alarm told how they rushed into the apartment, how they heard the sounds of flesh against flesh, how they saw Xander being violated, how they pulled their guns and demanded Xander's father stop, how they had finally been forced to shoot. During it all, Xander and Spike hadn't moved. Willow wasn't even sure that Xander had breathed. At the end, they simply turned on their heels and left. That night, blood had poured as they patrolled, all of them pitched to a killing rage. Luckily, some trolls had decided that the Slayer would be distracted and had attempted to set up home in the remains of Sunnydale High. They shortly learned their mistake. 
Willow glanced over at Tara, feeling the warm hand in hers. She had never seen her love like that, the blood rushing to her face as they chanted, setting free the spell they had been working on for weeks. It worked, ensuring that the trolls would live through the worst that Buffy and Giles could do. Spike and Xander had simply watched, eyes burning bright, as the rest set to work. Willow had never wanted Tara more than the moment she glanced over and saw her girlfriend covered in blood, the remains of some unrecognizable body part in her hands. Willow knew that she must have looked the same, for Tara had suddenly walked over, grabbed her and kissed her hard, right in front of the others. Tara. Shy, reserved Tara, marking Willow as her own. They had barely made it to their room before falling into each other's arms. 
"The prosecution now calls William Bredon." 
Willow's head shot up. Bredon. So that was Spike's name. She had never realized before that this was the first she had heard it. She watched as the heavy blinds were closed. When the district attorney learned that Spike had actually witnessed Xander being attacked in the months before the murder attempt she had insisted that Spike testify. The prosecution was attempting to make a case of attempted first degree murder and any testimony which could establish a long standing, pre-existing pattern of violence would be helpful. Spike had readily agreed, he was only too eager to see Xander's father put away forever. He had gone so far as to call Angel and arrange for one of Angel's contacts at Cedars-Sinai to provide a detailed explanation of Spike's photophobia, ensuring that the courtroom would be blocked from sun. Angel had been stunned at Spike's daring. By doing this, Spike would officially exist, would have an identity beyond that which he had created. It had come as a shock to everyone except Xander that Spike had a fully documented past. Education, driver's license, medical history, green card. All of it seemingly authentic and all in perfect order. 
Spike gave a last squeeze to Xander's hand as they walked to the front of the courtroom. Xander slipped down on the bench to sit next to Willow, who immediately took his hand. She sent a quick prayer to all the gods and goddesses she could remember that the silicon they had used to coat Spike's hand would protect him as she saw the bailiff place the Bible in front of Spike. 
"Do you swear to tell the truth, the whole truth and nothing but the truth, so help you God?" 
"Yes." Willow breathed a sigh of relief. A quick flinch back at the mention of God, a small, almost undetectable wisp of smoke, but nothing else. 
"Can you please state your name for the record?" 
"William Patrick Jonathan Bredon." 
"And you are originally from England?" 
"Yes. London." 
"And you moved to the United States, when?" 
"In 1991, obtained my green card in 1994." 
Willow tilted her head, there was something different to Spike's voice, something odd to his accent. 
"And your relationship to Alexander Harris?" 
Willow saw Spike's eyes glance over to Xander, the small smile cross his lips momentarily. Then gone, back to staring straight at the woman in front of him. 
"I'm his partner." Spike was unable to keep the pride from his voice and Willow could see the smile on Xander's face. 
"I see. Now, you are currently living with Mr. Harris, is that correct?" 
"Yes." Again, the note of pride. 
"Was there ever a time during which you resided with Mr. Harris when he lived at Defendant's house?" 
"Yes." Again, the curious note to Spike's voice. Finally, Willow figured it out. It was his accent. His accent was almost completely different. Gone was the almost cockney growl. Instead, this accent was cultured, educated, upper class. Willow's eyes narrowed. Maybe there was a lot more that they didn't know about Spike. 
"And during that time, did you ever have occasion to see the Defendant strike Mr. Harris?" 
"Objection, leading." 
Spike closed his eyes briefly as he heard the lawyers start to argue. His hand still burned from touching the Bible, but it was bearable. Actually, it was good as it gave him something to concentrate on, somewhere to focus his mind so that his control wouldn't slip. He carefully avoided meeting Xander's gaze. They had talked about this, Spike warning Xander not to be hurt if he didn't look at his lover the entire time he testified. Spike wasn't sure if he could maintain his human guise if he had to see Xander's face while he told what he saw. 
"You may continue, Mr. Bredon." So strange, he hadn't heard that name in so long.
"Yes." The simple one word answer. They had gone through his testimony time after time, the prosecutor stressing that he was to only answer what he was asked, not to volunteer any information.
"Can you please tell the court exactly what happened?" 
Spike took a deep breath, concentrating on the mechanics of it in order to calm him. **Right, just, tell what you saw. Leave out the part about trying to rip out his throat. Remember what you told her**
"I had been having some problems with where I was staying and Xander was nice enough to say I could stay with him. I had been there approximately two weeks when I went out to run some errands one night. I returned after two hours to find Xander face down on the floor, blood everywhere. His father," it was only with a fierce concentration of will that he was able to keep the snarl out of his voice, the yellow from his eyes, "was in the process of raping Xander." He stopped, taking another deep breath.
"And what did you do then?" 
"I ran down, grabbed the man and threw him into the wall. Checked to see if Xander was still alive. He was. I helped him up and then took him to the hospital." 
"And how did you know it was Xander's father?"
"I was familiar with him from seeing him on prior occasions. I also recognized his voice."
"Was his father saying something when you entered?" 
"Yes." Spike's eyes closed again as he heard the words. "He was saying 'Oh yeah, you like it, you always like it, you know you want it'." 
"Could you identify the man that you saw?'
"Yes, the defendant sitting right over there."
Xander closed his eyes, the events of that night coming back to him. He slowly ran a thumb across his right wrist, remembering the terror of the night, how sure he had been that Spike would die, how Spike had tasted his blood for the first time. That was the beginning of everything, the start of their love. Now, here they were. Spike, sitting in a courtroom, testifying for him. Creating a record of his existence that could not simply be erased. Xander listened idly, not really hearing the words but just the general tone of the questioning as the prosecutor took Spike through to the events of the night of the final attack. He had heard this story again and again as they had been prepared for their testimony and each time it tore him to hear how Spike had returned to find the police. Finally, the questioning was done and the defense attorney began to try to rip Spike's testimony apart.
Xander's head came up as he listened to the exchange between his partner and the lawyer. Spike stayed completely calm, completely unflappable, parrying each thrust with ease, not falling into any of the semantic traps into which Xander was sure he had fallen. He, too, noticed the change in Spike's accent. **So, I was right** A smile flicked across his face. During the past sixteen months, give or take, that they had been living together, Xander had slowly realized that Spike had been downplaying just how intelligent he truly was. But it came out in little ways. Like how Spike was better than any thesaurus, always knowing the right word. The sarcastic little comments as Xander discussed what his various professors said in class. The way Xander could rely on Spike to help organize his thoughts as he wrote his papers. How when Spike was exhausted he would fall back into this accent, sounding suspiciously like Giles. Now, Spike was going toe to toe with the attorney and was easily winning every round. And Xander was quite sure it wasn't just because the lawyer was obviously not very good. 
Finally, Spike was allowed to step down and he came immediately to Xander's side. 
"Move down, you silly gits, can't sit on his lap here, now can I." The familiar drawl was back. Everyone moved over so Spike could sit down. Spike's testimony had taken nearly all afternoon and the judge glanced over at the clock. 
"We're going to call it a day here. Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, I stress once again that you are not to discuss this matter with anyone, nor amongst yourselves. We will start tomorrow at 9:00 a.m. I would like to see counsel as sidebar." Again, everyone rose as the jury was led out. Xander glanced at his watch as they headed for the door. 
"Still light, I'll wait for you in the Jeep." He glanced around and then quickly leaned over for a chaste kiss.
"Be right there, Red, blanket in the same place?" They had found that no one ever looked behind the trash can just inside the side door.
"Yes, I checked after lunch." Willow called out as she left with Tara, anxious to get home so that she could cry, not wanting to do so in front of Xander, seeing how he had remained so strong.
Spike nodded, concentrating on the conversation behind him. He could clearly hear every word.
"Mr. Davies, Ms. Traxler, any further discussions on a plea?" The judge's voice sounded down from the bench.
"Your Honor, my client is determined to show these scurrilous allegations," began Mr. Davies.
"Look, leave it for closing. Even without the other testimony, you have three police officers who had to shoot your client to get him off his son's body. Ms. Traxler, do you have an offer."
"Your Honor, we feel that we can clearly show pre-meditation," She too was cut off.
"Again, leave it for closing. You have a confrontation in Wal-Mart a week before and that's it. According to the victim and his boyfriend, they didn't even see the defendant for nine months before that. Make an offer."
"Attempted second degree, assault with a deadly weapon, rape - 30 years, eligible for parole in 15." 
"No way. Attempted third, assault with a deadly weapon, aggravated assault. 15 years, parole in 5."
Spike went still. They were going to let that beast out of jail. They were bartering over what they had done to HIS Xander. He shifted into gameface without realizing it, his hands clenching and unclenching. **You know this is how it works, you're a man of the world. If they deal, it'll be over and Xander won't have to testify again** Xander hadn't actually slept more than three hours at a time since the trial began, running purely on adrenaline and caffeine. Spike hadn't fared much better, being up during the day was wreaking havoc on his body. 
"You have got to be kidding. Your client raped his own child for eleven years. The least he can do is that much time." Spike nodded once, hearing the contempt in the lawyer's voice. "Attempted second, rape - 15 years, eligible for parole in 10." 
"My client will never agree to any deal with rape in it."
"Then we're going to verdict." 
The judge stepped in then. "Mr. Davies, I am sure you have fulfilled your obligation to your client and have told him the repercussions he's now facing. Right now, he's looking at the potential of life in jail. As a rapist." The judge leaned over, his voice growing firm. "Just so we have all the cards on the table, if the jury comes back guilty on any count, I will not be inclined to be lenient. See if you can't talk some sense into your client. Otherwise, see you tomorrow."
Spike quickly ducked into the hallway, his chest burning. **At least the judge has some bloody sense** He retrieved the blanket and ran to the Jeep.

"Ladies and gentlemen of the jury, have you reached a verdict?"
"We have, Your Honor."
Spike could hear the crinkling of the paper as it was unfolded, as the judge read the verdict. He could hear the space in between each beat of Xander's heart. The judge looked up. 
"On the charge of attempted murder in the first degree - guilty."
The court filled with the sudden sound of exhalation. Spike absently noted that Xander's mother had begun to weep. He had paid her no mind the entire time of the trial. To him, she no longer existed.
"On the charge of assault with a deadly weapon - guilty."
"On the charge of first degree sexual assault - guilty."
Xander just leaned back into Spike, fighting back the tears. Over, it was over. The rest of the counts went by but neither of them heard. It was over. 
"Defendant is remanded back into custody. Sentencing in two weeks." Almost over.
Xander felt himself be engulfed by arms. Willow's, Anya's Buffy's, Tara's even Giles's. Their support there, solid. They knew and they hadn't left. They knew and they didn't think he was evil. He basked in the glow until a cold voice knifed through his comfort.
"You happy, now, you ruined him, you lied and you ruined him, you freak, you sick freak, he's your father, how could you," the hysterical sound of his mother's voice as she tore everyone away from him.
Buffy managed to grab Spike and slam his face against the wall as he instantly moved to protect Xander. 
"Not here, can't explain, hate her too, Xander can deal," Buffy muttered as she held the struggling Spike. The only downside to their training was that Spike could now fight back, at least somewhat, before the pain overwhelmed him.
"Kill the bitch, blaming him, should have killed her when we had the chance," the returning mutters as Spike struggled to get free. "Nothing will ever hurt him again."
Xander just stared down at the furious woman with contempt. He reached out, taking Spike's hand, rubbing his thumb over the back, trying to calm the vampire. 
"You know it wasn't a lie. You know it was the truth. I did nothing to him. Now, if you'll excuse me, my mate and I are leaving. Don't ever speak to me again. You are nothing to me. You are dead to me. Spike, we're leaving."
With that, they walked out the door. This time, Xander ran with Spike under the blanket.

Xander groaned as he slowly swam back awake. He and Spike had driven straight back from the courthouse and walked directly to bed. For the first time, it wasn't for sex. It was to sleep. They were both exhausted, physically, mentally and emotionally. Spike, in particular, as not only had he been forced to be awake during the day, he had stayed up to calm Xander when the nightmares hit. Xander had surfaced a few times to use the bathroom, jealous of Spike the entire time he was awake, jealous that Spike didn't have this petty problem. Spike had just slept like a log. Xander looked at the clock. 9:47. He couldn't tell if it was morning or night due to the blackout curtains over the windows. Hell, he didn't even know what day it was. He kicked Spike, hard. If he had to be awake, he sure wasn't going to be alone. A return groan reached his ears.
"Shouldn't feel this bad without drinking first." The words were muffled by the pillow. 
"Uh huh, not right." 
They groggily sat up, blinking slowly at each other. A warm smile crept over Spike's face. 
"Pet, you didn't have any nightmares last night, did you?" He thought this might happen, that the finality of the verdict might calm Xander, start the healing process. 
Xander opened his mouth to answer, then thought back. No. He hadn't woken screaming, couldn't remember any horrible images. 
"Nope," Xander grinned himself. "Maybe that wasn't so bad after all. How long do you think we've been asleep?"
"No idea, luv. Hungry, though." Spike was ravenous and was having trouble concentrating as he could see the artery on the base of Xander's throat pulse. Hungry in all kinds of ways. 
Spike pushed himself off the bed and staggered to the kitchen. He pulled out some blood, quickly heating it. He heard Xander behind him pouring out some cereal. They sat comfortably in silence for a moment before the phone started to ring.
"Harris's house of horrors, how can we disembowel you?"
"Xander, hey, so you finally woke up." Buffy's way, way too cheerful voice boomed into the room. 
"Yeah, just now. How long were we out, anyway?" Xander yawned, stretching out the kinks in his back. Spike just stared, entranced. He loved it when Xander stretched. Especially when his back was to Spike so he could stare all he wanted without being hit.
"Let's see, last saw you on Tuesday around 2:30 in the afternoon. It's now almost 10:00 on Thursday night. Please tell me you've been asleep this whole time. Lie if you need to." Buffy really did not want to contemplate the other reasons they could have been holed up for the last two days. 
Xander's jaw dropped. They had been asleep for nearly 2 ½ days. That had to be some kind of record. "No, just asleep. Not lying." He gulped as he felt Spike's mouth close on the back of his neck. "Of course, we're awake now. Gotta go." With that, he disconnected the line, turning the ringer off for good measure. They had long since gotten rid of the phone in the bedroom after Spike had forgotten to actually hang up one day and Willow, in a display of deviousness neither had known she possessed, had taped the ensuing events. Then played the tape at that night's Scooby meeting. 
"So, it's Thursday, is it?" Spike muttered, his lips still tracing along Xander's spine, searching for that spot, right there. He was rewarded with a tremor which ran through both their bodies. 
"According to Buffy," Xander managed to get out, trying to turn around. Spike held him fast, refusing to let him move. 
"Hmm, don't seem to remember having sex on Tuesday, don't seem to remember Wednesday at all, and it's very late on Thursday. That means three days without you, Xan. That's just not acceptable." 
Spike continued his long, meandering journey down Xander's back. He loved Xander's back, loved to trace the muscles there, loved the way it both tickled and aroused Xander, loved to drive Xander insane while not allowing him to touch Spike, loved the frustration of it. He was hard already, but he wanted this to be long and slow. Needed this to be long and slow. Over. It was all over but the final details. They could put all this behind them and start their lives together without any cloud over them. Spike could feel the weight lifted from them and he felt like it was all new, that this was the mark of a new chapter in their life. And he would be damned if he was just going to take Xander quick and dirty on the kitchen floor. As wonderful as that sounded.
Xander just shuddered. "No argument here." They never went this long without sex. Some days it was a miracle they made it out of bed at all. And some days they didn't. And now that mouth, oh, the things that Spike was doing with that mouth, could do with that mouth, would do with that mouth. Xander pulled himself together. Not yet. It was over, it was all over. They could finally start anew. The old life was over and the new life was beginning. The house had been the start of it, he knew that, but now, now he was on his way to truly being free. His secrets were all gone. Everyone knew about his father, about his cutting, about Spike. And they all still cared for him, still wanted him around. 
"Spike," he started, then stopped. He meant it to be firm, not husky, not sounding like he was begging Spike for more.
"Yes, sweeting?" 
Spike only ever called him that when they were making love and the sound of it drove him insane. **Think calming thoughts, calming thoughts. Willow. Willow. Willow and Tara. Not good. Not calming. Let's see. Giles in a Speedo. Ok, that's better** 
Xander pulled away with a yank, ignoring the growl of protest. "Spike, just, in a minute, need you too, but, want to talk to you, first."
Spike just reached out, eyes glazing over. "Sure, pet, anything you say." 
Xander batted the hands away, cursing himself as he did so. "No, really. Talk first. Just a little. Look, just, wanted to tell you, you've been so good to me, helped so much, and well," **shit, you can tell him you love him from dusk to dawn, in front of Giles and everyone and can't say THIS** "just, thanks. Means a lot."
Spike just nodded, hearing what hadn't been said. He reached out, taking Xander's right hand in his. 
"You know, we never even thought about this scarring." He traced a finger along the short, pale line running just on the inside of Xander's wrist. They both looked down as Xander's fingers curled around Spike's palm.
"I did." Xander kept his eyes on Spike's hand. "I wanted it to. Even before I knew anything else, I wanted it to scar. Wanted to remember what you did. How you saved me." 
Spike's hand moved down and clasped Xander's and they stood there for a moment, feeling the shift, standing on the edge of something new. Then Xander raised their hands to his mouth and began to suck on their fingers. Spike's eyes rolled back as that clever tongue began running over, around and between their fingers, down their palms and back up again, very, very slowly.
"Done talking now. Race you to bed." With that, Xander took off down the hall, knowing full well he wasn't nearly a match for Spike's speed. Spike caught him as they entered the living room and threw him on the couch.
"Too far away. Naked. Now." With that Spike ripped off his shirt and yanked away his boxers and Xander did the same. Spike threw himself back on top of Xander and they began to thrust against one another, tongues licking everywhere they could find. Xander began to lick up the column of Spike's throat while Spike traced the shape of his ear with his tongue. They knew each other so well now, knew exactly where to be gentle and where to be firm. Xander pulled Spike down on top of him, kissing him slowly, deeply, sucking that cold tongue far into his mouth, the coppery aftertaste of blood lingering there. Xander swallowed the moan that came from Spike, even as he felt their hips begin to rock in the familiar rhythm. He began to pull Spike up, moving his mouth lower and lower, lingering on those collarbones, nibbling from one end to the other and back again. Slowly, slowly, knowing he was taunting Spike but unable to care, he moved back up Spike's throat, feeling the hands wrapped in his hair, thrilled at the purrs and growls he was causing. After all this time, it still aroused him to know that he aroused Spike, that he could do things that drove the vampire right up to and over to the edge. He leaned up to capture Spike's mouth again, only to feel his arms grabbed and roughly yanked over his head.
"My turn, luv. Two can play at this game you know," a rough voice panted into his ear. Xander simply arched his neck, letting Spike feast on the expanse. Spike took his turn in caressing every inch of Xander's neck with his tongue, lingering over the bite marks. They both sighed deeply, both wishing Spike could bite Xander again. However, every time they tried it only hurt Spike more. Not even all the preparation for attacking the bastard had helped. Occasionally, Xander would purposefully knick himself while shaving and Spike would lap it clean, but, other than that, no other biting. Xander sighed, knowing they would come up with something. Spike turned his attention to Xander's nipples and Xander arched up again, the tugging almost too good, almost too much. Forcing himself up, he grabbed Spike's shoulders and managed to push Spike onto his back on the other end of the couch.
"My turn again," Xander panted, flipping Spike over. As much as Spike loved to kiss Xander's back, Xander loved to kiss Spike's more. For some reason, it drove Spike insane, especially times like now, when he allowed Xander to pin his arms down, when he gave up all control and just let himself be ravaged. Maybe it was just that, the loss of control, however fleeting, that did it, but this, this drove Spike mad. Xander worked his way down each vertebrae, the bones so clearly outlined, so thin, so pale. Xander traced his way along each rib, feeling the shudders underneath him. He rubbed his cock just along Spike's ass, not seeking entrance, just teasing, letting the heat burn into Spike, watching the white of the one eye he could see in Spike's profile, basking in the inarticulate words. Spike began to thrust upwards, trying to impale himself on Xander. Xander simply pulled back, kneeling between Spike's legs so that the only parts of him touching his lover were his hands on Spike's wrists and the very tip of his tongue. He continued to travel down, ignoring the begging coming from Spike, enjoying his power, the way he could taken them higher and higher. Finally, he stopped, right at the base of Spike's spine, just above his ass. He leaned down and bit. Hard. He began to suck, hating that the mark would fade so fast. He heard the sudden gasp, the uncontrollable buck as Spike jerked straight up. Luckily, he had been prepared and simply rose along with the movement. Spike yanked his arms up, turned and pushed Xander back down in one fluid motion. 
"That's not playing fair." Spike was in gameface now, needing all his control simply to stop from coming then and there. Xander just laughed, leaned up and kissed him. 
"Never said I played fair." 
Spike growled in response and shook his head, trying to pull back. He wanted Xander in his mouth and there was no way to do that with his fangs down. Xander pulled back slightly, rubbing a calming hand down Spike's arm, breathing deeply himself. Spike's human face finally dropped back into place and he immediately dived down, intent on tasting Xander. Xander, however, stopped him just before he could take the tip into his mouth.
"Me too, want to taste you too," he managed to pant out, losing himself into the deep pools of blue staring up at him. 
"Sure thing, pet, but, not sure," Spike leaned up on one elbow, frantically looking at the couch. "Not enough room. Fuck." 
"Floor then." With that Xander tumbled them both down, Spike falling on top of him. He quickly turned on his side, propping his back against the couch. Spike quickly maneuvered around and paused, their mouths both breathing down on the other. A quick nod and then their mouths descended in unison, fire and ice, hot and cold, all tangled together. Pumping together, moving as one. Xander's eyes closed as he imagined the picture they must make, dark and light, an orubus twining onto itself, perfect unity, wrapped together. He began to pump into Spike's mouth, the thought driving him mad. One. They were one. He felt his orgasm coming from far away, but couldn't tell Spike. Not when he was taking that perfect length as far down his throat as he could. Not when he was trying to reach up to push a finger into that impossibly tight ass. Not when he could feel Spike's prick twitching in his mouth. Not when he could taste that cold, salty taste pour down his throat. He swallowed hard, knowing that Spike was doing the same, that they were coming together, were one, truly one.
They slowly pulled apart, Spike turning to rest in Xander's arms. They sighed, content. 
"Food, now?" Spike twisted his head around to catch Xander's lips.
"Well, don't really want to eat. Something else?" Xander raised his head just enough to ask the question, feeling a familiar stirring in his groin. **Wow, so that's the key, take a few days off, improve recovery time**
Spike grinned, rocking his hips back into Xander, hearing the appreciative response. "So, you have other ideas." 
"Oh, hell, yes. But bed this time. Need the supplies." 
Spike laughed, stood, reached out a hand and pulled Xander to his feet. 
"Race you." With that, he took off down the hall.

Part Seventeen  

The stacks of books surrounded her, growing taller and taller by the day. 
The room smelled of dust and decay and sheepskin. Streams of paper curled
down from the tops of the piles, with only a small space in the center of
the circle existing, a tiny path through which the witch could enter to
sit and resume her desperate search breaking the perfect wall of books. 
The head bent down, large tome open in her lap, eyes skimming quickly down
the page, searching, frantically seeking a solution. The red hair was
dull and her clothes were musty. She had ceased caring about trivial
things such as eating and sleeping days before, only this mattered, it was
all she could do.

“Willow,” Tara tremulously sounded out, careful to keep her voice low. 
“Willow, come on, you have to sleep.”

Tara was beginning to seriously worry. Ever since Xander had revealed
what had happened to him, Willow had been obsessed with finding some way
to make it up to him for her failure to protect him during those years she
was his best friend. The long conversations that Xander had with Willow
during which he explained to her that the reason she didn’t know was that
he had worked hard to keep it from her had done nothing to calm her. She
still blamed herself. Nothing anyone could say could keep the guilt from
eating Willow, from tearing into her soul. Tara sent yet another quick
prayer of thanks to the goddess that Willow had chosen to turn to her for
help instead of pushing Tara away as Tara had so feared. That was the
only sign of hope as Willow began to collapse, the fact that she not only
allowed Tara to stay but turned to her for support gave Tara some
assurance that Willow would find her way back from whatever dark place
into which her lover had descended.

“Can’t, busy.” Willow muttered, rubbing distractedly at her eyes.

“Willow, please, the sentencing is tomorrow and you know that Xander will
be upset enough without seeing you look like you haven’t had any sleep in
a week.” Tara felt a twinge of guilt at using Xander as blackmail but
ignored it. She knew that Xander would have happily told her to use him
if he only knew how bad it was.

Willow carefully marked her place, sliding a silk marker into the volume
she was reading and obediently came over to Tara. Tara had discovered
that this was the one thing to which Willow would respond. Anything Tara
mentioned that could possibly hurt Xander was instantly eliminated. 
Willow stretched carefully, trying to work out the kinks in her back. 
Tara came over and started to rub her shoulders and Willow let out a huge
sigh.

“Sorry I’ve been so, so away lately, just, feel so bad about everything
and Xander’s hurting so much and I want to help, but I can’t find what I’m
looking for, don’t even know if it exists, but I have to find it, it’s the
only thing I can think to give him, have to help him, have to make him
better,” Willow stared to babble as the gentle, loving hands roamed over
her back. “You’ve been so sweet, putting up with all of this, I’ve been
such a bad girlfriend, haven’t told you how much I love you,”

Tara cut off Willow’s exhausted ramblings with a firm kiss. “Shh, it’s
fine. I know you love me. I know you need to do whatever it is that
you’re doing.” Tara reached down and took both of Willow’s hands into
hers, gently pulling them over to their bed. She settled Willow down onto
the mattress, running a hand through her hair, trying to work out the
tangles. Willow still looked beautiful, even with dark circles under her
eyes and messed up hair, unwashed face and three day old clothes. Still
as beautiful as always. “I just wish you would tell me what you’re
looking for so that I could help.” With that, she dropped a quick kiss on
Willow’s forehead.

Willow was nearly asleep, her body finally overruling her mind. “Just, a
spell, curse, something, gotta help him, keep them together, make him . .
.” Willow’s voice died off as sleep swept her away. Tara carefully
undressed her, smoothing Willow’s favorite nightgown over her body, then
curled into bed with her lover, pulling her close.

“I know you’ll find it, you always do. Sleep.” Tara settled her head
into Willow’s shoulder and joined her partner in dreams.

=========================================================================
Spike glared over at the people in their living room, trying to blot out
the buzzing noise of their voices. Spike had assumed that once the guilty
verdict had been rendered, that would be the end of their dealings with
the prosecutor. He had been furious to learn that, no, his Xander would
be forced to relive it all yet again for some ridiculous thing called a
Victim Impact Statement. What the fucking hell impact did they think it
would have on Xander to have not only been beaten and raped for over
eleven years but then to have his own father try to kill him. Xander had
been forced to tell about the nightmares and the difficulty sleeping, how
he still started whenever anyone came up behind him, how sometimes just
the smell of Jim Beam was enough to make his hands shake. Spike had
merely paced furiously back and forth across the living room, smoking
cigarette after cigarette, knowing that Xander would collapse once the
stupid people left.

They had finally left after four hours, four hours during which Xander
once again ripped open his soul. Xander remained sitting still on the
couch, shaking, for hours after their departure, eyes dead, seeing nothing
but the visions in his own mind. Spike had left him alone, knowing he
needed to come to his own decisions. He had remained in the room,
however, never more than a few steps away. Xander looked terrible, looked
like he was at the end of his rope. Spike knew it was bad when Xander
stole a cigarette, plucking it straight from Spike’s lips. Spike let him
smoke it, then handed him another, then another, his worry over Xander’s
quietness overwhelming his fear of Xander starting to smoke. Xander
finally looked up at him, eyes burning bright with pain.

“It’ll never be over, will it? I’ll always be fucked up. Gods, no wonder
you fell in love with me, must remind you of Drusilla, just as insane as
her.” The bitterness of his voice destroyed Spike.

Spike immediately sat next to Xander, stifling his pain as Xander
automatically flinched away for a moment. He pulled Xander to him,
ignoring the tenseness of Xander’s body. He turned and grasped Xander’s
face in his hands, forcing his love to meet his eyes.

“Listen to me and listen well. You are not fucked up, there is nothing
wrong with you. You are strong and pure and brave and that’s why I love
you. You are NOTHING like Drusilla.” Spike watched as Xander just shook
his head, ignoring all that Spike said. He let out a low growl then moved
his hands to Xander’s shoulders, unwittingly beginning to shake him.

“Do you remember how much I loved Dru, do you?” Spike paused until Xander
realized that he was to answer, that it wasn’t a rhetorical question.

“Yes,” came the quiet response, Xander’s voice still dead.

“Right, then. I never loved her like I love you.” Spike swallowed hard
then let out a long breath. “You have no idea what you do for me. What
you’ve done for me, what you will always do for me. You take the best of
what I was when I was William and the best of what I am as Spike and you
make them one, you make me whole. You let me feel what it must be like to
stand in the sun again. You’ve given me back life. Not an eternal unlife
of darkness and pain, but a life. You’ve given me a reason to continue. 
Bloody hell, I don’t even care about the chip anymore, do you realize
that? I don’t care, I’m glad. It gave me you, it gave me you.” Spike
let out another deep breath, trying desperately to pull Xander into him.

Xander finally locked eyes with Spike, feeling like he was coming back to
himself, feeling the love and pain mingling in Spike’s embrace. He let
out his own deep sigh and suddenly relaxed, trusting all his weight to
Spike’s firm embrace, letting himself feel secure, feel loved, listening,
truly listening to what Spike was saying.

“So, you don’t think I’m nuts?” The question was nearly indiscernible as
muffled as Xander’s voice was with his head buried in Spike’s shirt.

Spike grinned at that, relief spreading through him. “Now, didn’t say
that, did I? Just not nuts like that, you are sleeping with a vampire
after all.” He let out a yelp as Xander suddenly bit him through his
shirt. “Not fair, can’t bite back.”

“Poor baby, I feel so bad for you,” Xander murmured as he moved to rest
his head on Spike’s shoulder. “So, think maybe I should talk to somebody
about all this shit?” Spike had been mentioning that maybe Xander should
find a counselor for months, but had grown more insistent recently.

“Yes, I do. Doesn’t mean you’re weak or anything, just, there’s some
things I just can’t help you with, I mean, can’t really rip your dreams to
shreds, can I?” Spike rubbed his hands soothingly over Xander’s back,
hope growing in him. Xander had been flatly refusing all such
suggestions. Spike hated going to anyone for help, but he was nothing if
not realistic. This was beyond him. Xander’s nightmares were becoming
more and more violent and something had to be done.

“Will you come with me?” Xander sighed as he leaned back, hating this,
hating the drama, wishing it would all just end.

“Of course, pet, anything for you, remember?” Spike forced himself to
remain calm, forced himself to sit still instead of rushing Xander out the
door before he changed his mind.

“’K then, we’ll call Giles in the morning, sure he’ll know someone.” 
Xander felt a weight begin to lift, felt some light come back in the
darkness. The ceaseless questioning from the various lawyers had battered
at his defenses until he felt there was nothing left, nothing keeping him
for falling straight into the darkness that had always surrounded him. 
After they left, he had merely sat there, falling deeper and deeper into
himself, the familiar and hated pulling away. He couldn’t stop, couldn’t
keep from the descent. He knew, however, that this time, this time, there
would be someone to pick him up, a reason to come back. And when he heard
Spike’s words, when he finally believed that Spike truly thought he was
sane, thought he was pure, then, then he knew that he would come back. He
let out another sigh, it would be hard, but it would be worth it.

“I’m tired, it’ll be a long day tomorrow, let’s go get some sleep.” 
Xander stood and then reached out a hand, pulling Spike after him down the
hall.

=========================================================================
The judge glared down from the bench, the distaste on his face plain. He
listened as the prosecutor asked for the maximum penalty, citing the long
history of abuse and the heinous nature of the crime, stressing that
Xander was probably only alive due to his quick thinking in hitting the
alarm. The defense attorney then responded, attempting to raise sympathy
for his client by explaining his history of alcoholism and his own past of
abuse, stating that Xander’s mother would probably now be forced to go on
welfare, would lose her home as she had no marketable skills and wouldn’t
be able to work. The judge had seemed unimpressed. He shuffled some
papers in his hands and then looked back down.

“Well, Mr. Harris, do you have anything to say to this court?” The
contempt was clear in the deep voice.

Spike watched as Xander’s father rose, feeling Xander’s fingers clenching
deep into his hand. Xander was focused on the clock, watching the seconds
tick past. Every second was one second closer to the end, to the time
when it would finally, finally be over. Xander had slept soundly the night
before, in no small part due to Xander finally agreeing to take a sleeping
pill. They both knew it was the first step, the first acknowledgment that
this was something beyond them both. Spike squeezed back as Xander’s
father began to speak.

“Your Honor, I’m, well, I just want to say that I’m sorry. I’m sorry that
I ever did anything to hurt my son, I love him. It’s just, I was drinking
so much, didn’t really know what I was doing and when I saw him with that,
that man, the one who twisted him like that, I just snapped, couldn’t
think straight, never really meant to hurt him.” His father sat down
then, looking down at his hands, trying to appear repentant.

Xander just glared over. Even now, the bastard couldn’t even apologize,
wouldn’t take any responsibility for what he had done. He glanced at his
mother, sitting there, crying, trying to wring an ounce of pity out for
the beast she chose to marry. He supposed he should feel sorry for her,
but he didn’t. She made her choice. Now she would live with it.

The judge just looked down, staring at Xander’s father. “Over the last
few weeks, I have had the chance to review the testimony and evidence in
this case at length. Additionally, I have before me a copy of the Victim
Impact Statement filed by the prosecutor that clearly outlines the
continuing effects, both physical and mental, of Defendant’s treatment of
his son. Mr. Harris, it was only your son’s own actions that kept you from
succeeding in killing him. Your apology here was remarkable for the lack
of any admission of guilt or culpability. From what I’ve seen and heard,
that man you referred to is the only one who has shown your son any kind
of care or consideration. The fact that your child has managed to
maintain any kind of normal life is a testimony to his own strength and
clearly not due to anything his family has done for him. I must say that
the evidence presented makes it clear that the only appropriate punishment
is the maximum penalty available to me. I hereby sentence you to life in
prison with no possibility of parole, with confinement in a maximum
security prison, sentence to begin immediately. Defendant is remanded to
state’s custody. Court dismissed.”

Xander looked up in a daze as the prosecutor came over to shake his hand. 
It was over, his father was going to be locked away forever. He was dimly
aware that the rest of the gang had gathered around him, unsure of how to
react. He glanced down and caught Willow’s eye, seeing the tears
streaming down her face. He reached out and caught her in a firm embrace.

“Wills, please, don’t cry, it’s over, it’s all over, everything will be
fine, I’ll be fine.” He vaguely heard Buffy squaring off with his mother,
registered the sound of a slap, closed his eyes, hoping it wasn’t Buffy
taking his mother’s head off, then heard the bailiff dragging his mother
out the courtroom doors. He ignored it all, trying to comfort his oldest
friend.

“Xander, I’m so sorry, I should have stopped it, I would have, you should
have told me, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’ll make it up to you,” Willow hated
herself for breaking down, hated forcing Xander to comfort someone else
when they should be comforting him. She pulled away and turned into
Tara’s waiting arms. “I’ll make it up to you, I’ll make it up to you.”

Xander just rubbed her back for a moment before Spike gently tugged Xander
away, anxious to get out of this hated place. They walked into the
hallway, not speaking, not touching, just walking side by side out the
side entrance.

“That’s it, we are never coming back here,” Xander sighed as they finally
pulled away, Spike carefully tucked under a blanket in the back seat.

“Don’t know about that, pet, did you look at the windshield?” Spike
asked, a hint of a smile in his voice for the first time in days.

“Oh, bloody fucking hell,” Xander groaned out, seeing the parking ticket. 
“Fine, we’ll just mail it in, it’s only an extra twenty bucks.”

They both began to laugh as they turned onto the road for home.

=============================================================== 

“G, G, Giles,” Tara managed to stutter out as she walked over to him at
the counter in the Magic Box.

“Yes, Tara,” Giles looked up, startled to hear Tara call his name. No
matter how much they tried to reassure Tara that she was a part of their
family, she was still horribly shy around them, preferring to let Willow
be the bold one.

“Um, it’s just, well, there’s something wrong with Willow and, well, I
don’t know what to do.” Tara stood there wringing her hands and biting
her lower lip.

Giles eyes grew wide and he removed his glasses, automatically polishing
them. Whatever it was, it must be quite serious for Tara to have
approached him directly this way. “What is it, how, how is she acting?” 
He moved around from behind the counter, drawing closer to Tara.

“She’s just, she’s obsessed, she has been since Xander was in the
hospital, but, since the sentencing last month, it’s gotten worse, she’s
got all these really, really ancient spell books and she just keeps
reading them. She’s been cutting classes and she hasn’t been sleeping and
she hasn’t been eating and she won’t tell me what she’s looking for and
I’m, I’m really, really scared.” Tara looked up at that, taking Giles’s
breath away. The pure look of fear there was almost palpable.

“Where is she now?” He bustled about, gathering together his car keys, a
few spell books, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“In, in our room, I didn’t mean to interrupt, but, well she hasn’t moved
in two days. Just keeps reading and muttering,” Tara practically
whispered as she followed Giles out the door. They headed straight for
Giles’s car and he took off for the dorm, heart sinking. He had expected
something like this, for one of them to snap. He honestly had expected it
to be Spike, had expected a drunken vampire on his doorstep demanding some
amateur brain surgery to remove the chip so that Spike could track the
bastard down in prison and kill him then kill Xander’s mother. But Xander
and Spike seemed to be doing better. He had arranged for them to meet
with a particularly open minded therapist who had some experience with
supernatural beings. They went religiously twice a week and Xander seemed
to be doing well. Buffy had channeled her rage into patrol and Sunnydale
was as safe as it had ever been. Willow, Willow had been strangely
absent, but he had simply chalked it up to all her responsibilities as
school. He cursed himself for not noticing something amiss sooner.

Tara led him into their room and Giles stopped, stunned. Tara had, if
anything, downplayed the seriousness of the situation. The room was dark,
the only light being the candles around the room. It was almost
impossible to walk as practically ever surface was covered by books of all
shapes and sizes. Paper was strewn everywhere and the only indication
that there was anyone in the room was the sliver of red hair barely
visible through the wall of books.

“Willow, Giles is here, came to visit you, you haven’t seen him in a few
days, I, I thought it would be nice.” Tara gently made her way through
the books and placed a hand on Willow’s cheek. Willow smiled slightly,
turning her head to absently place a kiss on Tara’s palm.

“Hey, Giles,” Willow called out, still not looking up.

“Willow, Willow, what, what is all this?” Giles was unable to keep the
shock from his voice as he reached out to move a stack of books out of the
way so that he could sit and see Willow’s face. Her head started up as
his hands settled on a stack and a hand clamped onto his forearm.

“Don’t move those, I haven’t gone back through those yet, you’ll ruin it,
they’re in order.”

Giles just stared at Willow, the frantic tone to her voice frankly
terrifying. Gently, he reached out and pulled the book she was reading
from her hands. Willow tried to tug back, but Giles was persistent,
finally succeeding in getting away from the witch. He turned it around,
curious as to what it could be. He caught his breath. It was an ancient
spellbook, over 300 years old, containing spells for petrifaction.

“Willow, what, what are you looking for, Tara is quite concerned, and I
must admit, so am I.” He remained crouched down, trying to look in
Willow’s face. She was pale and gaunt, unkempt and, frankly, smelled. 
Nothing like the sprite he knew.

“I have to find it, there has to be something, I have to find it,” Willow
started as Tara sat behind her and pulled her close. “Have to do
something, have to make it up to him.” With that, she burst into tears. 
“Just let me look, please, I have to find it.”

“Willow, calm down, we’ll help you look, you just have to tell us what it
is and we’ll help.” Tara rocked them both back and forth as Willow’s
sobbing increased. Giles just looked on, feeling completely helpless. 
The exhausted cries continued, Willow’s body shaking, her lack of food and
sleep overpowering her.

“Have to find a way to make him immortal, have to give that to him, have
to keep them together, have to, all I can do now,” the words were almost a
chant, repeated over and over as they rocked. “All I can do, have to find
it, has to be there.”

Giles reached out, wrapping his arms around the witches, his heart
breaking. “Willow, who, who do you have to make immortal? Why is it all
you can do?”

“Xander, have to make it up to him, keep them together,” the words trailed
off as Willow finally collapsed, her body giving way. Tara pulled away as
Giles carefully lifted Willow, stunned again by how light she was. He
placed her on the bed where Tara immediately sat next to her and began to
rub her hands along Willow’s arms.

“She’s trying to make Xander immortal, I should have known,” Tara felt
tears welling up in her own eyes.

Giles just nodded, looking at the small frame, which was still twitching,
even in sleep. “Do you know why?” He began to move around the room,
carefully organizing Willow’s notes.

“She blames herself for not seeing what, what happened before, she thinks
she should have stopped it. She keeps saying she has to keep them
together. I think,” Tara looked up, catching Giles’s gaze. “I think
she’s trying to find a way to make Xander immortal so that he can be with
Spike forever.”

Giles sat down heavily. He had never expected this. Xander himself had
shown a curious interest in research ever since he and Spike had been
together. Giles, while thrilled, hadn’t really questioned why. It made
sense, however. Spike couldn’t turn Xander and it was clear that the two
were obsessed with one another. Giles took off his glasses yet again,
routinely reaching to polish them. Not obsessed. Loved one another. It
was still difficult for him to believe that a vampire could truly love
anyone, especially a human. But, if he was honest, it was plain that
Spike did love Xander. And Xander loved Spike. And it must be difficult,
at best, to know that while Spike had at least the chance to love
eternally, Xander did not.

Tara watched Willow as she slept, running a soothing hand along Willow’s
forehead as her lover tossed and turned. At least she was sleeping, that
was good. She just wished that Willow had told her what she was searching
for sooner so that she could have helped. She may not have known Xander
for very long, but he was Willow’s best friend and Willow loved him and
that meant Tara loved him too. Besides, they had all accepted her after
the incident with her family and that meant more to her than she had let
them know.

“We have to help her,” Tara began.

“Of course, I’ll call the infirmary, she really should be looked over.” 
Giles reached out, searching for the phone.

“That’s not what I mean,” Tara leaned over, pulling the phone from Giles’s
hand. “We have to help her look. There has to be some way, something we
can do. Xander deserves this, deserves our help.”

Giles stared up at Tara, seeing the determination there. For as quiet as
she was, when her mind was made up, she was as immovable as stone. He
nodded, knowing it was true. Xander deserved this, deserved any chance
for happiness he could have. Besides, maybe then the guilt would fade, at
least enough to let him sleep without a large glass of Scotch each night,
without going over all the signs that he had ignored, without dreaming of
what could have happened if Spike hadn’t found Xander, if a soulless
vampire hadn’t protected Xander, if a demon hadn’t seen what they all
ignored. He nodded again, then turned back to the books.

“Right, should get started, this could take a long time. Do you have any
idea what these piles mean?”

Tara just smiled and moved to join him on the floor. “No, for once she
wasn’t babbling all about her grand plan. Maybe we should wait until she
wakes up?”

“No, I would like to at least read her notes, see what she’s reviewed to
this point, determine the best way to divide the research, see if there’s
anything she may have missed.”

Their head bent down and they started to work, moving the books far enough
to make room for them both in the circle.

Several months later

“Coming, coming, hold onto your horses,” Xander yelled as he padded out to
the front door, wondering which one of them it was. It could only be one
of the gang as they were the only ones who had the code to the gate. He
glanced up at the monitor next to the door, a little surprised to see that
it was Giles, Willow and Tara, carrying large bags and some kind of
basket.

“Hey guys, to what do we owe the honor, sorry for the mess, we’re going
away tomorrow, just packing, you know.” Xander automatically leaned down
to kiss Willow and Tara as they came in the door.

“Going away, where are you going?” Willow asked, eyes narrowing a bit. 

“Not quite sure, Spike won’t say.” Xander grinned slightly. Their two
year anniversary was the next day and Spike had turned into cryptic guy,
refusing to give any hint as to where they were going. When Xander asked
what he should pack, Spike handed him a list. Of course, it was a list of
sex toys and Xander had hit him over the head with the paper.

“Where is the bleached wonder, need to talk to both of you,” Willow
continued, voice firm.

“Asleep, it is noon, you did notice that, you know, sun high in the sky,
yellow shiny thing, turns vampires into dust?” Xander followed them into
the dining room, watching as Tara began setting out various small bowls
and what looked like a gong.

“Xander, do you, do you think, perhaps, that you could, could wake him?” 
Giles asked, looking even more intent than usual.

“Um, guys, is everything fine, you’re, well, I’m getting this weird vibe,
there’s not another apocalypse or something is there?” Xander was
worried, whatever this was, it didn’t look good.

“No, goddess, no, nothing like that, just, have something I want to tell
you, and I want to tell you both at the same time. Actually, it’s good
news, well, I think it’s good news and I think you will think it’s good
news, and I know Spike will think it’s good news, so,” Willow paused to
suck down a breath, barely able to contain her excitement.

Xander jumped into the pause, recognizing the beginnings of full Willow
babble coming on. “Wills, might want to consider decaf. If it’s that
important, I’ll go get him.” He set off down the hall, shaking his head
slightly in fond amusement. He and Willow were finally back to near
normal, though Willow had been conspicuously absent the last few months,
saying she was working on a big spell. Working on a big spell with Tara
at that and Xander knew what that meant. He didn’t mind, he was just
happy to see her happy.

“Yo, blondie, time to get up, visitors.” He belted Spike on the ass with
a pillow, taking the chance to cop a feel since he was in the vicinity.

Spike reached back and yanked Xander down onto the bed with him, nuzzling
Xander’s neck. “Hmm, those lads from Stud finally get here, bout time,
service these days is slipping.”

Xander laughed and slapped Spike’s hands away from him. “No, they were
here earlier, but you looked so tired I kept them all for myself. 
Seriously, though, Giles, Willow and Tara are here and Willow looks like
she’s about to burst, she’s so excited and whatever it is they want to
tell us both, so get your sexy undead ass out of bed and into some
clothes.”

“No, wanna sleep,” Spike pouted, even while throwing on his jeans and
black t-shirt.

“Tough shit, look once they’re gone I’ll come back to bed with you, deal?”
Xander followed Spike down the hall, hands on Spike’s waist.

“Deal, do I get something special if I’m nice to the Watcher?” 

“Hmm, yes, but I get to pick what it is. And I get to decide if you were
nice.”

They entered the dining room and Spike plopped down next to Giles.

“So, what’s so important the whelp woke me up in the middle of the day,
and not for a shag I might add, rude, that.” Spike just smirked as the
blush moved its way up Giles’s neck.

“Why don’t I let Willow tell you,” Giles replied, eyeing the witch with a
practiced eye. She was about to burst and it was best to simply stay out
of the way.

“Well, I wanted to do something to apologize to Xander, to make up for him
for all the, the stuff and, well, the only thing I could think of was to
find a way to make him immortal so that you guys could be together
forever, really. I looked and looked and couldn’t find anything, then
Tara and Giles started to help and they were a lot of help and I should
have asked sooner and Tara, I’m so sorry I scared you like that, I didn’t
mean to, and I know you know I didn’t, but I’m still sorry. But we
couldn’t find a way to make you immortal, I’m sorry, then Giles had an
idea and we researched that, and, and we found something that will work
pretty much the same way. It’s a binding spell and as long as one of you
is alive the other is alive and it’ll stop Xander from aging so he’ll
always be the way he is now, his body won’t age, but you can still get
hurt, Alexander Lavelle Harris, and don’t think you can’t. And Spike can
still get staked or go out in the sun or any of the other things that
could kill him. But you would be together, for as long as you could keep
each other alive and I know tomorrow is your anniversary and I want to do
this for you, so happy anniversary.” Willow sucked in a huge breath and
looked at them, pride shining out her eyes.

Spike and Xander just gaped at her, trying to make sense of all she said. 
Surprisingly, it was Xander who came to his senses first.

“Wait, you found a spell that will make me immortal, but not really, and
you want to do it for our anniversary, as a present to say you’re sorry
for all the other, the other stuff?” As best as he could make out, that
was the gist of what Willow had said.

“Very succinct Xander, Willow you might want to consider phrasing things
that way in the future,” came Giles’s dry response.

Spike turned to him, mouth still slightly open. “You know about this,
Watcher, and you approve?” He stood quickly, beginning to pace. “A
binding spell, should work that, should have thought of that myself, going
bloody senile in my old age.” The pace quickened as Spike quickly
reviewed all he had ever learned of binding spells. He whirled back and
stalked quickly to lean over Giles.

“Are you sure there are no catches, nothing like, oh, I don’t know, a
happiness clause, or us both growing antlers or the like?” Spike battled
down the happiness growing in him. A binding spell. So simple, so
elegant, so perfect. He knew the catch. The spell was simple. Bind the
two beings together, then, when one died, the other instantly died as
well. It didn’t mater to him, he would die the second Xander did anyway,
just a matter of staking himself or waiting for the sun. This would save
him the effort.

“Quite sure. We found the spell a month ago and have been checking ever
since. Willow was quite right. The spell will, well, it will, bind you
together so that your existences are permanently intertwined. When one
dies, the other dies. Until then, however, you both remain as you are
when the spell is cast. For Xander, that means that he will never age,
never change from his appearance as it is now. His body can still get
sick, but he won’t get any of the diseases associated with old age. 
However, that means, Spike, that you can never, never, well, the chip will
never come out. It will be permanent.” Giles looked down at that. This
was the sticking point. Willow had been ecstatic when she found the
spell, sure it was the solution. They had checked every aspect of the
spell, calling all of Giles’s contacts, making sure there were no hidden
defects. There was nothing, nothing other than this. If they did this,
Spike would have to agree to keep the chip.

“That’s it, mate, you sure. No problem, that, let’s get on with it.” 
Spike was bouncing on his feet, thrilled.

“Spike, seriously, are you sure, um, Spike, come on, let’s talk about
this,” Xander dragged Spike into the kitchen, still in shock from the
news. He could be with Spike forever, really forever. It was all he
wanted and now he could do it. But not if Spike had to keep the chip. He
knew how much Spike hated the chip and he would never, ever ask Spike to
keep it forever.

“Xander, bloody hell, what’s there to talk about, this is perfect, can’t
believe I didn’t think of it. Bugger.” Spike tugged at Xander’s hands,
anxious to get started.

“Spike, no, stop it. Seriously, Spike, is this what you want, really,
think about this, this is a big deal. You’ll always have the chip, and,
I, I would never ask you to do that, okay? I wouldn’t want to make you
have that forever, don’t want you hating it, hating me, three hundred
years from now. We don’t have to do this, I won’t be mad,” Xander
started, only to find himself pinned to the kitchen wall.

“What, don’t you want to, afraid you’ll get tired of me, is that it?” 
Spike tried to sound furious, but only came out sounding desperate. **He
doesn’t want this, doesn’t want me, that was his out, he knew he would
leave, leave me, doesn’t want me**

Xander reached up and traced a finger along Spike’s lips, clearly seeing
the insecurity in Spike’s eyes. “No, afraid you’ll get tired of me. 
Spike, if we do this, you’ll never feed off a human again, do you
understand that? I would never ask you to give that up, not just for me.”
He stared into Spike’s eyes, hardly daring to imagine Spike’s response. 
To have what he wanted more than anything in the world so close and not be
able to take it was pure torture, but he would never force this on Spike. 
He closed his eyes slowly, waiting for the inevitable.

Spike just threw his head back and laughed. “Oh, pet, now I remember why
I put up with you.” Spike tilted Xander’s head up and kissed him gently
on the lips. “This was supposed to be a surprise for you for our
anniversary, but, hell, now seems like the perfect time. My gift to us
this year is simple. I’m going to give up trying to have the chip
removed.” He watched as Xander’s eyes grew wide.

“You, you’re serious,” Xander whispered, leaning in close to smell along
Spike’s neck. He had discovered that whenever Spike was serious about
something, he gave off a particular scent that even Xander could
recognize. He inhaled deeply, the pungent odor of truth crashing into
him. “You are serious, when, when did you decide this?” His knees felt
weak as the truth sank in. Spike wanted this, was going to give it up
anyway, no sacrifice, nothing to taint their future. Just them, forever.

“Don’t know really, few months ago. I just, didn’t want to ever even be
tempted again, didn’t want to do anything you would hate. Thought our
anniversary would be the perfect time to tell you. Besides, got me out of
shopping, didn’t it?” The familiar sarcasm, the beloved quirk of an
eyebrow.

“So, you won’t hold it against me a millennium or so from now,” Xander
knew he had an idiotic look on his face, but he couldn’t help it. This
was too good, too right.

“Well, not that, might hold other things against you though,” Spike
started, then pulled back to move to the entrance to the dining room.

“Oi, Watcher, when you saw we stay the way we are now, you do mean that we
won’t age and all that shit, not that we can’t, you know, have physical
reactions that allow us to enjoy the pleasures of the flesh.” Spike
smirked at the sudden blushes on the faces at the table, knowing full well
that, in this instance, the euphemism was filthier than bluntness could
ever be. He watched in delight as Giles began to furiously polish his
glasses.

“No, no, that’s not it, you just won’t age. Your bodies will still react
to, er, stimulus, as usual,” Giles managed to choke out as Xander wrapped
his arms around Spike’s waist.

“Yeah, and you can still get hurt and you’ll heal like usual. That means
no playing in traffic, Xander. You can still get sick and die like that. 
Or hit by a bus. Or a plane crash. Or choke to death, or,” Willow added
helpfully, smiling up at Xander.

“Thanks there, Wills, those are all such happy thoughts.” Xander yanked
Spike back into the kitchen. “So, we gonna do this thing?”

“We gonna do this thing,” Spike replied. They just stared at each other,
then burst into laughter. It was too good to be true. This was it,
forever. Always. Xander couldn’t imagine anything better. They stumbled
back into the dining room, still laughing, still thrilled.

“You sure there aren’t any hidden secrets,” Xander managed to ask when he
regained his breath.

“Positive,” Giles answered. “I take it you would like us to, to cast the
spell.”

“Fuck, yeah” came the practically shouted reply. 

“Right. Then, all we need is some blood from each of you. Spike, you sit
here, Xander you sit here,” Willow grabbed them and pushed them down into
two chairs in the middle of the table. Unwrapping a slim package, she
handed Xander a knife. She put a small silver chalice in front of each of
them. “Not a lot, just a few tablespoons.”

Xander looked at Spike, then silently handed him the knife, turning his
left arm over, baring the skin. Spike looked deep into his eyes, then
slid the blade along the white line that only his vampire eyes could still
see on Xander’s arm. The blood welled out and Xander let it run into the
chalice. Spike, in turn handed the knife back to Xander, baring his left
arm. Xander leaned down, gently placed a kiss on the inside of Spike’s
wrist, then cut. Spike’s blood quickly poured into the chalice.

“That’s fine, enough from both of you,” Willow’s matter of fact voice
called from next to them.

Spike reached over and licked Xander’s wound clean, savoring the taste of
the blood. The cut quickly stopped bleeding and Spike turned to cleaning
his own cut.

“What now, how do we know it worked,” Xander asked, fascinated by the
preparations of the others.

“We cast the spell, if it works right, a brand will appear on the insides
of your right wrists, now, be quiet, I have to concentrate,” Willow
answered.

Xander watched, intrigued, as Tara ground some herbs, dumping them into a
bowl. Other herbs were added, then some kind of liquid that made a small
puff of smoke rise from the bowl. The room quickly filled with the smell
of something burning and various scents began to compete in the air. 
Willow began chanting, soon joined by Tara. Finally, Giles’s voice joined
them and the soft, lilting words began to grow stronger, more powerful. 
With one final call, Willow tossed the contents of the bowl over their
heads. The potion drenched them and they started. They hissed as a
burning began on their wrists, as the air in the room began to swirl. 
Suddenly, it was over, the pain ended and the room was clear.

Xander slowly placed his right arm on the table as Spike did the same. 
They turned them, palm up, then with a slight nod from Spike, looked down.
There, right on the inside of each of their wrists, was the symbol for
infinity, glowing gold in the light of the room. Xander let out a fierce
cry of joy as Spike leapt up, swirling Willow off her feet and spinning
her around the room.

“Always liked you, Red, always knew you were a right fine chit. 
Girlfriend’s cute, too.”

Xander leaned over and kissed Tara on the cheek, then threw his arms
around Giles, enjoying the embarrassment of the other man.

“Thank you, thank you, thank you, you have no idea, this is, you just
don’t know,” Xander babbled. Forever, he could promise Spike forever. He
turned and grabbed Willow from Spike’s embrace.

“Wills, gods, Wills, thank you,” he felt the tears well up, could sense
them in Willow as well. “You didn’t have to do this, you never had
anything to make up to me, but thank you, just, it means everything,” the
words fell into her hair as he held her tight.

“Had to, for me, had to give you something to make up for what you lost,”
Willow sniffled out, thrilled it had worked. “Now you can’t say I never
did anything for you.”

They both laughed at that, remaining locked in each other’s arms for a
moment. Then, Spike grabbed Xander and kissed him, hard, slamming him
back into the wall. They became lost in each other, not noticing the rest
gather their things, not hearing the quiet good-byes, enraptured in the
taste of each other. Forever, they had forever. They would always be
one. They could taste it in the other’s mouth, more true even than the
brands. Their tastes had altered, becoming richer, purer, more intense. 
They couldn’t get enough. Forever wouldn’t be enough.


“Spike, where are we going, please, tell me?” Xander tried yet again from
the passenger’s seat. Spike had insisted on driving as he was the only
one who knew where they were going. Xander had tried everything he could
think of to get Spike to tell him, but Spike hadn’t cracked. Xander had
briefly considered withholding sex, then realized that if Spike wasn’t
having sex, then HE wasn’t having sex either and that was just not a good
idea. So he had fallen back on being annoying. He figured another five
minutes and he would start with “are we there yet, are we there yet.” The
classics never went out of style.

“Almost there, and don’t even think about asking are we there yet,” Spike
growled out, shooting a glare over to Xander. Xander just stuck his
tongue out, still thrilled. Everything looked different now. He had
never realized just how much the fact that someday he was going to die and
leave Spike had affected their lives. Now that it wasn’t an issue,
everything seemed clearer, brighter, better. The sex the night before had
been unbelievable and that was the real reason Xander wanted to get to
wherever it was they were going. He couldn't wait to see if it was a
one-time experience or if this was how things were going to be from now
on. He suspected it was the latter.

“Fine, spoil my fun.” Xander went back to looking out the window,
watching for signs along the road. That was always good too, read all the
signs out loud. Very annoying. He saw the sign looming ahead.

“Right lane, exit for Monterey. . .” his voice trailed off as he realized
they were taking the exit. “Monterey, we’re going to Monterey, I’ve
always wanted to come here.”

Spike just nodded, concentrating on remembering the directions he had so
stupidly not written down, sure he could remember them. After all, he had
just been here thirty years or so before, so surely he would remember. He
sighed in relief as he saw the turn he wanted. He glanced over quickly. 
Xander’s eyes were wide, taking in the curving road and the spectacular
views of the ocean. Spike followed the road for a few miles, Xander
finally quiet, awed by the sights. He saw the sign he was looking for and
pulled into the hotel, coming to a gentle stop. He leaned over, kissed
Xander quickly, then hopped out. Xander followed him a few seconds later,
eyes going wider as the hotel loomed over him.

“Spike, wow, this is, wow,” Xander breathed out, the majestic hotel
looming over him.

“It’s something, I’ll give you that, even I think it’s impressive,” Spike
answered, dragging Xander inside, then quickly retrieving their keys,
checking to make sure they were in the suite he requested. The bellhop
followed with their luggage while the valet parked the Jeep. Xander just
blindly followed Spike who seemed perfectly at home in the opulent walls. 
The bellhop threw the doors open and Xander gasped again when he saw the
suite. It looked like something out of a magazine. Spike walked in, cast
a look around, seeing that the heavy curtains were in place, then tipped
the bellhop. He grinned when he saw Xander’s face.

“So, I take it you like?” 

Xander just nodded, “I like, I like a lot.” He turned and grabbed Spike’s
hands, pulling him towards a door. “Think that’s the bedroom, want to see
that, sure it’s nice too.”

“Of course, luv, unless you want to go out on the balcony,” Spike teased,
stumbling after Xander.

“Balcony, later, bed now.” They tumbled into the room, barely managing to
kick the door shut.


Xander followed Spike down the path running along the top of the bluffs. 
After they managed to untangle themselves on the bed, Spike had insisted
that they go for a walk. Xander had just nodded, agreeing quickly. A
walk would be nice, in fact, if they went near the ocean, it would be
perfect for what he had in mind for Spike’s present. They had gotten
dressed quickly, Spike insisting that Xander wear a thick sweater, “Can
get really cold with the wind, luv, can’t have you catching anything.” 
Xander just rolled his eyes, realizing that this was something he would
have to get used to, that Spike would now be his usual overpossessive self
for a long, long time. Xander dressed quickly, then grabbed his messenger
bag, checking to make sure the box with Spike’s present was still there.

Spike pulled Xander along behind him, carefully watching their footing. 
Rounding the corner, they came to the spot Spike had been heading for the
entire time. Xander drew in a sharp breath as the vista unfolded in front
of him. They stood on the edge of a huge cliff, a steep drop off directly
in front of them. Below, sharp rocks jutted from the sea, rising steeply
into the air. The waves crashed into them, tossing spray high into the
air. Beyond that lay the ocean, stretching as far as the eye could see. 
The sky was clear and the moon shone, full and heavy, glistening in the
waves, a silver path running across the water. The stars looked so close
that Xander thought, for one second, they could reach up and touch them. 
It was the most amazing thing he had ever seen.

Spike moved behind Xander, wrapping his arms around his waist. “This is
what I wanted you to see. Found this a long time ago with Dru. She used
to dance here and listen to the stars. I used to watch her and think
there could never be anything better. Found out I was wrong. Wanted you
to see it, wanted to see you here, wanted you to know that this, this is
how beautiful you are to me.”

Xander nodded, drinking in the sight. Finally, he set his bag down and
pulled Spike around, turning to face him. He leaned down and unzipped the
bag, pulling the wooden box out, seeing the silver of the moonlight trace
over the design.

“You gave me your present, now it’s my turn to give you mine. Here.” 
With that, he handed the box to Spike. Spike looked down, tilting his
head slightly. He opened it slowly, seeing the knife resting in its bed
of red velvet. He looked back up, waiting for Xander to continue.

“For all the pain the chip brought you, it gave you me. For all the pain
the blade brought me, it gave me you. I never thought that anything good
would ever happen in my life. I was wrong. Everything good has happened.
You happened. I never thought I could have anything good. Now I have
you, I have you forever. I don’t need the blade anymore. You’re willing
to keep the chip forever. I’m willing to get rid of the blade forever. I
don’t need it. I have you.” Xander stopped, looking deeply into Spike’s
eyes. “I don’t need it, I will never need it again.”

Spike nodded, unable to speak. He knew exactly what the blade
represented, knew what Xander meant. Wordlessly, he removed it from the
box and handed it to Xander. He leaned up, kissed him deeply then set the
box down. He turned and stepped back, moving to give Xander room.

“William Patrick Jonathan Bredon, I love you. Forever.”

“Alexander Lavelle Harris, I love you. Eternally.”

Xander nodded, then reached his arm back. He threw as hard as he could,
putting all his strength behind it. He threw high and true, sending the
knife sailing into the deep. They watched as the blade sailed far,
finally sinking into the sea, swallowed down into the deep blackness,
forever cast aside, leaving only the two of them, the moonlight shining
down, casting its glow upon their faces, bathing all about them in its
silver light.

End.