Belonging
Part FourBy the time Xander arrived home that night, it was well after sundown. One thing after another had gone wrong on the site that day and he had more than a few things to straighten out with his boss once everyone else had gone home for the night. He unlocked the apartment door. The locked door meant Spike was still missing - Spike never remembered to lock the door when he was home. Xander couldn't suppress the icy shiver that zinged up his spine at that thought.
Xander locked the door carefully behind him, and went to put his shoes, keys and hat away, then went to the kitchen. He stood next to the refrigerator as he quickly drank his first beer of the evening ((Gotta get a little head start on the relaxation.)) Throwing the bottle away, he went into the bathroom and took a long, hot shower. Xander dressed in a pair of sweatpants, took another beer out of the refrigerator, opened it, threw the cap away and sat down to watch TV.
((Shouldn't you be thinking about...all the stuff you have to think about? Spike?))
((No! No thinking about Spike. And no thinking about THAT, either. I do NOT want to belong to Spike, damn it!))((Liar.))
((Shut up.))
((Make me.))
Xander groaned and tried to think of a snappy comeback to end the argument his inner voices were having ((and since when have there been two of you?)) but was interrupted by a knock at the door. His heart leapt ((Spike!)), but then he heard Buffy's voice.
"Xander? Spike? You there? Open up, I need to talk to you!"
"Just a sec," Xander called, disappointment welling up inside him that it was Buffy and not Spike. "I'm coming," he said, setting his beer down on the table as he got up and went to answer the door.
As soon as Xander unlocked it, the door swung open and Buffy marched in. "Where's the bleached freak? I need to talk to him," she said. She walked to Spike's bedroom and looked inside. "Spike? C'mon, this is important." Finding Spike's room empty, Buffy walked back across the living room and stopped in front of Xander. Folding her arms, Buffy asked again, "Where is he, Xan? I need his help, I need information from him."
Xander shrugged his shoulders, trying not to let the worry he felt for Spike show on his face. He knew Buffy wouldn't understand. Hell, he didn't understand.
((You understand. You're just trying to convince yourself that you don't.))
((Shut UP! This is so not the time for a psychotic break!))
"Sorry, Buff. I haven't seen him since Saturday night." Xander walked around Buffy and took another beer out of the refrigerator. "Want one?" he offered.
"No. I have to find Spike and get him to help me," Buffy insisted. "I don't have time to stop and have a beer, Xander."
Xander shrugged again, put the beer away and returned to his place on the couch. Picking up the bottle he'd opened earlier, he took a drink and said, "No problem. I understand."
"What do you mean, you haven't seen Spike since Saturday night, anyway?" Buffy persisted. "You haven't seen him in two days? Why haven't you told anybody? He could be up to something. You should have told somebody, Xander."
"And say what? 'Hey, G-man, Spike didn't come home last night'. He'd just say that Spike's a big boy and can take care of himself and not to worry. Besides, he's probably just sleeping off a bender somewhere. Probably managed to rob some guy with loads of cash and decided he didn't want to share the alcohol." Xander twisted around on the couch, sitting back against the arm, so he could look at Buffy without craning his neck. "What's so important, anyway? Got some big nasty monster you need help slaying?"
"Yeah. Remember those Xwislat demons Giles was worried about? I think I saw one last night - about 11 feet high, I think, scaly and spiny," Buffy said.
"How do you know it's a Xwislat demon?" Xander asked, recognizing the description as matching the demon Spike had met with in the cave a few nights earlier and understanding why Spike had been so adamant that the Slayer avoid them.
"There's a picture of one in one of Giles's books. I fought with it before it got away. Spike seemed to know a lot about them, so I thought I'd get him to come with me. Maybe he knows how to kill them. I know he said to stay away from them, but since when do I take orders from the annoying undead? Besides, I've got fifty bucks for him if he helps me." Buffy walked over to the recliner and sat on the edge of it, her hands clasped around her knees. "Are you all right, Xan? You sounded...worried...about Spike for a minute. That's not like you. Everything OK?"
Xander shot Buffy an irritated look. "I can't be worried about him? And if I am, it's because something's wrong with me? Whatever happened to caring about someone because it's the decent thing to do? I haven't seen or heard from my roommate in almost 48 hours - of course I'm worried!" He sat up and took a long drink of his beer, frustrated and angry.
Buffy looked at Xander for a few moments, eyes wide and confused. "Hey...chill Xander. No biggie. I didn't realize it bothered you that much. I don't understand - I mean, it's Spike, right? Evil vampire? No soul, no conscience? OK, yeah - he helps with the slayage some, and he can be useful when it comes to demon languages or rare beasties like these Xwislats, but...I didn't think anybody would mind if he left town. It's not like it's any great loss - just one less thing to worry about. No more Spike-messes to clean up," she said, thinking of the demon eggs, the Gem of Amarra fiasco, Adam.
Xander felt something twist and shatter inside him at Buffy's casual dismissal of Spike's contributions to her mission. He felt like the earth had just shifted on its axis, like something monumentally important had just occurred.
Taking a deep breath, he did his best to keep from shouting as he sat up and said, "You're right, Buffy. He hasn't got anything important to add to your little team of Slayerettes. Who cares if he lives or dies? He could be a pile of dust somewhere right now, but hey - you can slay without him, so it doesn't matter, does it?"
Buffy felt as if she'd stepped onto quicksand. Cautiously, she said, "Well, yeah - it's not like we keep him around for his personality."
Xander took another breath; fighting to stay in control of the rage he felt coursing through his veins. He said quietly, "It's not like his vampire strength is that important - you've got things handled from the super-strong side of things. Tara's got the mojo covered, and Wills is Research Girl. As far as I can tell, you don't really need anybody else. Even Giles knew it - that's why he left." Carefully, oh so carefully, he leaned back against the arm of the couch, watching Buffy with a guarded expression.
"I don't know about not needing Giles, but as for the rest of it - you've got it exactly, Xander. See? You underst..." Buffy sat up straight, an expression of alarm on her face. "Don't forget yourself, Xander. We need you. We always have," she said quickly.
"Yeah, right," Xander snorted, letting the disgust and anger he felt show on his face for the first time. "I'm such a valuable member of the group, aren't I, Buff? Why, you wouldn't know what to do without me!"
"Xander - we do need you. I need you. I have to take care of Dawn and work on top of the slaying." Buffy looked at Xander, concern in her eyes. "You've helped me so much with Dawn."
Xander dismissed Buffy's words with a shake of his head. He couldn't stay still any longer and he stood up and began pacing. "Willow or Giles can help you just as much as I can. And Tara's better with Dawn than any of us. C'mon Buffy, admit it - you don't really need Spike or me. It matters zilch whether we're around. We could leave Sunnydale and you'd never miss either one of us. I was never important to the slayage - Willow was, with the books and the hacking and the magic. I just hung around because we were some kind of weird 2-for-1 deal, and that hasn't been true for years now." Xander downed the rest of the beer quickly, threw the empty bottle into the trash can as hard as he could, and listened, satisfied, as the glass shattered.
Buffy stood up quickly, alarmed by a side of Xander she'd never seen before. "Xander, you've got it all wrong. I wouldn't even be here if not for you - the Master would have killed me. You're the one who brought me back Xan, remember?" She looked at Xander, hoping he'd understand how she felt.
Unfortunately, Xander was too far gone. He'd had enough of living on the fringes of other people's lives. Slaying was Buffy's gig, not his, and he felt like he'd been fooling himself all these years, thinking he made a difference. Anybody could do what he'd done for the Scoobies, he thought. It wasn't enough, not anymore. He didn't know where it was ((Spike?)) but he knew there was another place out there for him, some spot only he could fill. He heard Spike's earlier comment echo in his mind, "You're useful".
He whirled and glared at his friend. "Am I useful, Buffy?" he asked harshly. "Tell me, am I?"
"Yes! You are, Xander. I told you, we need you," Buffy said.
"Why?" he demanded. "Tell me what I do for you, Buff, that nobody else can," Xander demanded. He stood stiffly, every muscle in his body tensed, hard and angry.
Buffy spoke softly, trying to soothe Xander with her voice. "Xan, c'mon. I already told you. I don't know what I'd do without you. Of course we need you. It just wouldn't be the same."
"Wrong answer, Buffy. Not wanting things to change isn't the same as needing somebody," Xander ground out between clenched teeth, his body trembling.
Buffy looked at him, worry evident in every line of her face. Suddenly, Xander didn't have the energy or the inclination to be angry any longer.
Sighing heavily, he hung his head. His voice low, he said, "I don't know where he is, Buff. I don't know where he went and I don't know when he'll be back. I'm sorry." Xander looked at Buffy, his face soft and his eyes tired and sad. "Can - can you just go now? I can't help you with those demons, and maybe you'll find Spike while you're out on patrol. I just - I need to be alone for awhile."
"Are you sure?" Buffy asked him quietly. "I don't want to leave you like this."
Xander felt another brief flare of anger but quickly pushed it down. "Yeah, I'm fine," he said with a lopsided grin. "I can take care of myself."
"I know, Xan. It's just - "
"It's all right, Buffy. Just go. I'll be OK." Xander took her gently by the arm and walked her to the door. "Really, I'll be fine. I'm tired all of a sudden, and I think I want to go to bed. Tell you what, if I see Bleach Boy anytime soon, I'll be sure and tell him that you're looking for him."
"OK," Buffy said doubtfully, allowing Xander to guide her out the door. "If you're sure..."
"I am," Xander said. "Go. Find monsters. Slay monsters. Eat ice cream afterward. I'm going to bed."
Buffy grinned slightly at this. "Yes sir, Mr. Harris. Will do."
Xander laughed lightly and kissed Buffy's forehead softly. "'Night. I'll see you soon. Be careful."
"You too, Xan," Buffy answered before turning and leaving.
Xander watched Buffy walk away for a long quiet moment. He closed and locked the door and went and pulled a six-pack of beer from the refrigerator. As he walked by the trash can on the way to his bedroom, he stopped and stared at the broken beer bottles for a while before bending over and plucking out a few pieces of sharp-edged glass. He double-checked the locks on the door and made sure all the lights in the apartment were off before he went into the bedroom.
Xander settled himself carefully against the headboard of his bed, arranging all the pillows behind his back and head for maximum comfort. He took the beer out of the carton and set the bottles on the small table next to his bed and the empty carton on the floor, just under the bed. He carefully placed the sharp pieces of glass on the bed next to him.
Looking around, he decided he wanted a little bit of light after all, so Xander got up and opened his curtains and blinds. After re-arranging himself comfortably on the bed, he opened the first beer and drank it slowly, savouring both the taste and the languidness he felt from the alcohol. Never drink on an empty stomach, he giggled to himself. Realizing he was going to be good and wasted long before he finished all the beers he had if he kept drinking them slowly, he took the tops off another two and drank them quickly, one right after the other.
Xander picked up a piece of the broken glass and traced it lightly across the skin on his inner wrist for a long time, stopping only to drink two more beers in rapid succession. Some part of his brain was shouting at him, frantically trying to get his attention so it could talk him out of what he was thinking about doing, but he ignored it. ((I'm getting good at that. Such a useful skill.)) He made one sharp pull with the glass across his skin and gasped at the brightness of the pain, staring in fascination and a little disgust at the blood welling up from the cut he made. ((Ouch. Shit. I'm such a fucking wimp. Can't even kill myself properly.))
Xander set the piece of glass back on the bed and opened another bottle. Swallowing almost half the beer in one long gulp, he sat back and watched the blood oozing from his arm, allowing the events of the previous few days to fill his mind: his realization that he wanted - no, needed - Spike to claim him, to accept what Angel had offered, even if only in pretence; his discussion with Buffy earlier that evening...
Xander was lost, deep in thought and beer, so he didn't hear the key turning in the locks on the front door. The voices in his head were loud enough that he missed the swish of leather and denim as Spike entered the apartment and then his bedroom, missed the look on Spike's face as he stood at the foot of Xander's bed and took in the scene before him.
"What the fuck is this?" Spike demanded angrily, waving his hand to indicate the empty beer bottles, broken glass and Xander's bloody arm. "What the fuck do you think you're doing, whelp?"
Xander jerked in surprise at the sound of Spike's voice crashing
through the quiet room. Blearily, he grinned a bit and gestured at Spike with his almost-empty beer. "Spike! Good to see you! Where've you been? Slayer's lookin' for you, y'know," he slurred.
Spike's eyebrow went up almost to his hairline at Xander's use of the word "Slayer" in reference to Buffy, but all he said was, "I'm waiting for an answer, boy. What in bloody hell are you up to in here? What's all this?" And he gestured at the mess again.
Giggling stupidly, Xander shrugged. "Just a party for the Young and the Useless, Spike. Feel free to join in. 'Course, I've drank almost all the beer, but there's still some blood in the fridge for you. You're not so young either, I guess. But hey - Buffy doesn't need either one of us, so you qualify in the only way that matters." Xander finished his beer in one long drink and in the manner of the highly intoxicated, very carefully placed the empty bottle back on the crowded table. "C'mon Blondie, where's your sense of fun? Did you leave it wherever it is you've been the last couple of days?"
"'Cause getting shit-faced and trying to kill myself sounds like ever so much fun," Spike said dryly, noting with satisfaction that the bleeding from the cut on Xander's arm was slowing."Fuck you, Spike." Xander shot back angrily.
"Later," Spike said, folding his arms across his chest, unperturbed by Xander's temper.
"Never," Xander retorted. "Where were you, anyway? I was beginning to think I was never going to see you again, unless I happened to run across your ashes somewhere."
Spike grinned. "Didja miss me, pet?" Before Xander could answer, Spike continued. "Got my little problem taken care of this weekend, Xan. It's been a good couple of days, boy," he said. "I made sure Xruunas and his mate got out of town safely and then I went and had a little fun away from Sunnydale last night. Don't want the Slayer findin' out about my newly-dysfunctional chip before I'm ready, do I?" he asked Xander almost conversationally.
In spite of all the alcohol he'd drunk earlier, Xander suddenly felt very, very sober. He sat up straight and asked Spike nervously, "What'd you come back for, then? You gonna kill Buffy?" He swallowed, not wanting to hear the answer, but needing to know.
((Fuck. My misplaced sense of loyalty is going to get one of my best friends killed. Son of a bitch.))
((Or it might get you...))
((Shut UP!!!))
Spike sat down on the edge of Xander's bed and grinned at Xander's sudden intake of breath. "I came back to get what belongs to me, pet," he purred, enjoying the scent of confusion and fear that started rolling off the other man in waves. ((Not very much fear, though. Good Xander.)) Spike smirked. "What do you think of that?"
"I...I...I think...that's good. Good, Spike. You get your stuff, and then I can use your old room for a storage space. I think I'm running out of room in the closet in here for my comic books." Xander babbled nervously, purposely misunderstanding Spike's meaning.
Spike snorted softly at Xander's ramblings. "'S not what I mean, boy, and you know it." Ignoring the blood on Xander's arm with great effort, Spike ran a finger down the side of Xander's face and cupped his cheek with one hand. "I'm talkin' 'bout you Xan. I told you I'd turn you, first chance I got. I didn't come back for that crap," he said, gesturing with his head toward the living room. "I came back for you, like I said I would. I want you with me, Xander, by my side, at my feet and in my bed."
He grinned widely at Xander's look of astonishment. "Don't worry - the idea won't bother you once I've turned you. I want to make you my Childe and teach you how to take what you want and to destroy what you don't. You're right - you belong with me, you belong to me, and I'll be damned if I'll leave this hellhole without you." Spike smirked at the unintentional pun, and Xander echoed it with a weak smile of his own.
Xander leaned back against the headboard, his thoughts and emotions whirling madly. Part of him was yelling and screaming, hysterical at the idea of becoming a vampire. The rest of him - and it was a much larger part - felt as though the giant knot that had lain in his stomach for years had been unravelled. Spike wanted him. Spike wanted to claim him. Spike thought he was important enough to come back to Sunnydale to collect. Xander was almost giddy with relief. He hadn't been rejected again and he was needed. Well, Spike hadn't said that, exactly...
Cocking his head to the side, Xander looked at Spike seriously and asked, "Do you need me, Spike? Is this about me, or is this simply a way of getting to Buffy? I'm tired of being a means to an end for people. Praying-mantis teacher wanted me for dinner, I still have no idea what Cordelia wanted with me, and Anya mostly wanted me because it made her that much more human." Xander pleaded with Spike with his eyes. ((Me. Please want me.))
Spike ducked his head for a moment, thinking, and then looked Xander in the eye. "I won't lie, pet. The idea of turning one of the Slayer's cheerleaders is a glorious one. I'd do one of you for that reason alone; it's almost as rich as bagging a Slayer herself. But it's not why I'm choosing you. If it were about revenge, I'd pick Dawn and be done with it. She'd be the easiest and turning her sister would piss the Slayer off the most. I want you, Xander. You're mine."
Xander nodded his head, feeling a rush go through him at Spike's
words. "OK. I just had to know. Thanks." He sat up again, uncertain. "How does this work? I mean, what should I do?"
"Well, the first thing you're gonna do is give me those damn pieces of glass," Spike said. Xander picked up the glass and handed it to Spike wordlessly. Setting them down on the table, Spike turned back to Xander and said, "I wasn't kidding, Xander. You're mine now. I don't want you tryin' to hurt yourself again. You don't fuck with my property that way, got it?"
Xander nodded his head. "But I thought you were going to turn -"
"I am. But bein' a vampire doesn't mean you can't be self-destructive and I won't stand for it, whelp. Don't make me teach you that lesson the hard way. I can guarantee you won't like it a bit." Spike sat on the edge of the bed, picked up Xander's arm and looked at the dark-haired man inquiringly. Xander gulped nervously and nodded his head once. Spike grinned and bent his head to the bloody cut, dragging his tongue slowly over it. Lifting his head slightly, Spike looked Xander in the eye as he carefully licked every drop of blood from Xander's arm.
Xander shuddered, whether at the sensation of Spike's tongue on his skin or the hungry look in the vampire's eyes, he didn't know. He swallowed heavily and said very quietly, "I think you got it all."
"I guess I did," Spike said, and deliberately, languidly ran his tongue over the cut one last time before letting go of Xander's arm.
Spike then stood, stretched, and began to undress. He took off his boots and socks; placing the socks inside his boots, he set them against the wall under the window. He shrugged out of his duster, threw it over a chair and started unbuttoning his shirt.
"Um, Spike? What are you doing?" Xander asked, uncomfortable.
"Gettin' ready for bed, what's it look like?" Spike said as laid his shirt over the duster on the chair and pulled his black T-shirt off over his head. Spike turned to the window, closed the blinds and pulled the heavy curtains shut.
"Yeah, but - well, you do have your own room," Xander pointed out. He knew he wasn't going to care what he did with Spike once he was turned, but there were some horizons he had no interest in exploring as a human being.
Spike turned and looked at Xander, amused. "You're willin' to let me suck all the blood out of your body tomorrow and turn you into one of the undead, but you're worried about where I'm sleepin' tonight?" He started laughing and shook his head disbelievingly. "Xander, you are one of a kind. This is gonna be fun."
When Xander showed no signs of relaxing or relenting, he sighed. "Fine. Get me a soddin' pair of sweats and I'll wear those to bed. That's the best you're gettin' out of me, though. I'm not leavin' you alone in here to change your mind or beat me to the punch," he said, indicating the glass on the bedside table with a nod of his head.
Xander blushed at the mention of the broken glass and pulled his injured arm close to his body, but got up and dug around in a drawer until he found the smallest pair of sweats he owned for Spike to wear. Even with the drawstring pulled tight, the pants hung loosely on the thin man, but at least he wasn't naked. Much, Xander thought, looking at Spike's pale chest. ((Fuck it; this is no time to be indulging my hang-ups.)) He got into bed and divided the pillows, giving half of them to Spike. Lying down and making himself comfortable he asked as he felt Spike get into bed, "Why are we waiting until tomorrow?"
Spike reached out and pulled Xander close. "Who says we are?" he teased. When Xander stiffened noticeably, Spike chuckled. "Relax, whelp. I want to wait until the alcohol's out of your system. I don't fancy gettin' drunk while I'm drinkin' you," he said, settling Xander into the crook of his arm. "We'll do it tomorrow after you wake up, and come sundown tomorrow night, Sunnydale's vampire population will increase by one."
Xander lay rigidly next to Spike for a while, uncomfortable at his proximity to the other man. He believed Spike wasn't going to try anything, but he hadn't slept with another man before and couldn't relax enough to go to sleep. He tried breathing deeply and slowly, he tried counting sheep and he even tried singing "99 Bottles of Beer on the Wall" in his head, all to no avail. Finally, he heard Spike sigh and say, "Listen, boy. I can help you go to sleep, but you have to trust me. Can you do that?"
Xander wanted to laugh at the idea of trusting the man who was going to kill him the next day, but he nodded his head instead, knowing Spike could see him in the dark.
"Good. I'm gonna drink from you - just a bit, enough to make you feel tired. Don't freak out on me, I'm not gonna kill you now, all right?" Spike asked, his voice low and soothing. When Xander nodded again,
Spike ran his hand through Xander's hair and pulled his head back gently. "It's all right," he murmured softly, and Xander felt the barest prick of fangs as Spike carefully bit him and began drinking slowly.
It's like floating, he thought dazedly as the blood loss, combined with the beer he'd drank earlier, made him feel light-headed. He was only dimly aware of Spike pulling his fangs out of Xander's neck, of the coolness of Spike's tongue as he licked the bite clean, and of the briefest of kisses against the back of his neck before Spike started murmuring to Xander softly. Xander was too close to sleep to understand the words Spike was saying, but he was aware enough to comprehend the meaning behind them. Spike was telling him he was wanted, he was needed, that Spike was going to finally finish what had been started on that night in the school so long ago.
Fuzzily, Xander thought that he ought to thank Angel at some point for setting the ball in motion, so to speak. Then he wondered how much he'd care once he lost his soul. Xander knew that thought should terrify him, but as the soulless demon behind him held him close and continued to whisper reassuring, comforting words to him, all he could think as he drifted off to sleep was that he'd finally found someplace he belonged.