My ScorpionBy Firehorse
"Crap.""Yeah. Well, sorta."
"Right, pet. Congrats. And crap."
"Yeah."
Spike watched from the folded-up couch as Xander kicked his boots off and wearily flopped into the chair, sinking back with a sigh.
He'd been surprised when the whelp had been late getting home from work the Monday after his weekend off. Almost three hours late, and Spike had begun to worry. The only consolation had been, since it was after sunrise, the problem was probably mundane and not Hellmouthy.
The problem wasn't even really a problem. Instead of getting canned, Xander had been promoted. The head of Maintenance had found Xander's immediate supervisor drunk in an empty office-again. Wondering who had been running things, since the work had obviously been getting done, he'd asked the rest of the cleaning crew, and the answer had been 'that Harris kid'.
The supervisor's job had gone to the crew leader of the grounds crew, who needed to work nights. Xander had been given the other man's job, and was now in charge of a grounds crew of five. Which was good; daylight hours and more money were always good, but he'd had to give up his keys to the labs, and he'd had to do it this morning. There hadn't been a chance for him to make duplicates on the sly. No access to the labs meant no access to the degausser. No degausser meant Spike kept his chip for a while longer. Yeah, 'crap' and 'congrats' summed it up quite nicely.
A soft noise caught Spike's attention. Xander was mostly asleep in the chair, sprawled out and still in his work clothes.
Well, and no wonder, mate, Spike chided himself. Up all night swinging a mop, then up all day bein' shagged by you. An' all you do is shag and sleep.
Spike ignored the tightness in his chest, although he knew he couldn't for much longer. This whatever-it-was had started off as a straight-forward deal. Xander would help Spike, Spike would take Xander.
And there'd been an awful lot of 'taking' going on. He'd taken Xander in bed, on the couch, in the shower, bent over the kitchen counter, up against the door...everywhere but the chair, come to think. And Xander still hadn't taken him.
Spreading his legs and easing his growing erection away from the constriction of his zipper, Spike silently watched Xander sleep. He had known, that night in the crypt, that he was getting in over his head. He just hadn't realized that it would happen so quickly.
Somewhere in the last few days, it had stopped being about a deal, and had started being about the two of them. Xander had never spoken of his feelings, but Spike knew his own. He was well on his way to loving the boy, if he didn't already. Deeply, completely, and mushily. If he were honest with himself, those feelings had been there since he'd been the whelp's 'guest'; he'd just managed to ignore them, stuff them down deep so he could pretend they'd never existed. Now that they were spending every possible minute together, shagging every chance they got, he couldn't. Planning a future together was doing funny things to his unbeating heart, even if it was a future born of convenience.
Most people assumed that because he had no soul, he couldn't love. That wasn't true; he had loved Dru. And Angelus, eventually. The disappearance of Angelus and the betrayal that was Angel had nearly destroyed him. Would have, except for Dru. His dark princess had been the rock that he'd rebuilt his world on. And when she'd left, his foundation had crumbled.
Disgusted with his maudlin thoughts, Spike snorted at himself, then turned his thoughts resolutely away from the past.
What were they going to do now? The labs were out; from the sound of it, their security system was more than what he could get past himself. Simple lock-picking he could do, but that was about it.
Wait. Wait a minute. What had the whelp said? Three choices; electricity, the degausser, and an electromagnet, like at the junkyard. Junkyard...was DaV'aarr still around? He'd find out this evening. If he was, Operation Zap-the-Chip, as Xander called it, might be a go yet.
---
Several hours later, Xander stirred and woke, sitting up and blinking sleepily.
"Whoa. How long did I sleep?"
"Couple hours, but you needed it."
"Yeah, I did. Need some more, though."
Xander tripped over one boot, stepped around the other, then staggered to the couch, which Spike had unfolded into the bed, and collapsed on it.
"G'night."
"Half a mo, luv, I need a word."
"Huh?"
"Right, then, I'll make this quick. I need some dosh, and I'm going out tonight. I'll be at Willy's if you want to join me, back before three if you don't."
" 'K."
Xander's wallet landed at Spike's feet. He helped himself to a twenty and a ten, and then, looking at Xander, who was apparently comatose, he decided to leave a note. Knowing his habits, Spike propped the note on the toilet tank, along with the wallet. He gently spread a blanket over Xander and left the light on in the kitchen area as he left.
Once at Willy's, he splurged on a glass of the good stuff and took it to a far table. Six games of pool later, five of which Spike won, a very short demon colored like a peacock approached him.
"Willy zays that you look for DaV'aarr. That is right?"
"It is. He around?"
"No. He is in Zacramento, making pickups. He be back in three, four days. You want to zee him?"
"Please. I want to collect."
"Help with head?" The little demon touched the ruff on the top of his own head gingerly. Spike scowled, but explained briefly what he wanted DaV'aarr to do.
"Dav'aarr, he owes blood debt. He help, if he can. You come, four nights. If he come zooner, I get you. Yes?"
"That'll work. Thanks; buy you a drink?"
"Zurely." He buzzed at the waitress who had come in response to Spike's wave, and was shortly pouring a smoking pink concoction into an orifice on his abdomen.
They chatted for a few minutes, then a familiar heartbeat caught Spike's attention. He looked up and found Xander standing in the doorway to the back room. Spike watched as Xander made his way through the crowd. He might not have his bite back, but he had a reputation, and Xander smelled like Spike, so most kept their distance, eyeing Xander curiously.
"Can anybody sit here or is this a demon-only table?"
Spike pulled Xander down into his lap. He thought Xander would protest such 'girly' treatment, but he didn't have to stay in Spike's lap for long; just long enough to make it clear to everyone who he belonged to. To his surprise, Xander settled back against him with only a raised eyebrow for comment.
"I got up and you were gone. There was a note in the bathroom with my wallet, so I came," Xander said uncertainly.
"S'okay, pet. Glad you did." He followed Xander's gaze to his drinking companion and added, "Xan, this is ZZptlppb. Zib, this is Alexander Harris, my...mine."
"Hi." In another surprise, Xander let the possessive claim pass without comment.
"Him? I touch..." Zib trailed off into a sibilant buzz, but Spike nodded.
Zib looked Xander over carefully, then placed one lightly feathered hand on Xander's crotch, the other on his forehead. Xander twitched a bit, but stayed still when Spike tightened his grasp.
"It is good. You are his, he is yours. Will be, for long time." He removed his hands, then said, "I will help you, any way I can. You are plbttztlp; it is owed."
"Thanks," Spike answered. Xander's look clearly said 'You WILL explain this later,' to Spike, but he remained silent.
Zib picked up his empty but still smoking glass and turned away, disappearing into the crowd.
"And you say I know interesting people. You've got me beat by a country mile."
---
Slowly they wandered home, making the obligatory turn through the cemetery and stopping to make out in the shadows of various trees, crypts and monuments.
In between groping sessions, Spike explained who Zib was, and how he thought DaV'aarr could help.
"Let me get this straight-this DaV'aarr works in the junkyard, but he's a demon. And nobody notices this? Oh, wait, this is Sunnydale-nobody ever notices anything."
"It's more than that, pet. DaV'aarr is a kind of chameleon demon, only instead of changing colors, he can change how he looks. You know the bloke at the gas station over on Elm?"
"That's DaV'aarr?" Xander interrupted.
"No, git, but that's what DaV'aarr usually looks like."
"A redneck Elvis impersonator?" Xander was incredulous.
"More of the redneck, less of the Elvis."
"Ok, so this DaV'aarr is a demon, works at the junkyard and will help us how, exactly?"
"He drives the crane with the electromagnet on it."
"Oh. Why? Zib said DaV'aarr owed a debt? What's that all about?"
"Not really my story to tell, pet. His spawn got into a bit of a jam with the Master in Bulgaria, and I helped him out. We got to be friends after that. The debt's been owing for about eighty years now, but you don't settle a blood debt with just anything, it has to be a life for a life. Getting rid of this bloody chip effectively gives me my life back, so the debt will be paid."
"Why didn't you go to him first?"
"Didn't know about the electromagnet, did I? Didn't think of it, either, until your plan fell through. Besides, I'm not dying. If I were, then I might have gone to him, but as much as I hate the bloody thing, the chip isn't killing me. I told you-a blood debt has to be paid in blood. DaV'aarr probably won't think banjaxing the chip is suitable recompense, but like I said, getting rid of it gives me my life back, so I'll consider it paid in full."
They kept walking, out of the cemetery now, toward home. Spike pushed Xander back into a convenient alley and proceeded to kiss him breathless.
"Umm, Spike?"
"Mm?" Spike had his hands on the bare skin of Xander's back and his face buried in the crook of Xander's neck, and he really didn't want to be interrupted.
"Mine?"
"Your what?" Now he had his hands under Xander's waistband and was steadily working his way south.
"That's what you said to Zib when you introduced me. And why'd you use my full name? Never mind that, what you said was 'he's my...mine.' I'm your what?"
"You're mine." Shit. Spike froze. He didn't want to have this conversation now, he *really* didn't want to have this conversation now. Damn his possessiveness for running away with his mouth in the first place.
"Yours."
Spike didn't know how to interpret the new note in Xander's voice.
"Well, pet, since we were in Willy's, and in case you hadn't noticed, you were the only human there, I figured it was safer to say you were mine, put you under my protection." Suddenly his hands were being pulled out of Xander's jeans and Xander was stepping away. He looked up, into a face tight with poorly-hidden hurt.
"Don't lie to me, Spike." Xander's voice was soft and flat.
"I'm not-"
"You are." Xander turned and started to walk away.
"Pet-" Spike hurried after him.
"Do NOT lie to me, Spike! I'll take just about anything else from you, but *do NOT* lie to me."
The rest of the walk home was accomplished in tense silence. By the time Spike had gotten his duster hung up, Xander was sitting in the chair, his body language fairly yelling 'leave me alone!'
Spike knew from his years with Dru that there was only one way out of this mess: groveling. No matter how badly he really didn't want to have this conversation now, he didn't want to lose whatever he was building with Xander, either.
First rule of groveling-this one from Angelus-the groveler should be on his face in the dirt. Spike compromised and dragged the battered ottoman over to the chair and sat on it at Xander's feet.
"I'm sorry, luv. Can I explain?" Whatever had happened to never apologize, never explain? He took Xander's continued silence as an invitation to carry on.
"You didn't need to be under my protection. Everybody knows you work with the Slayer; that's enough to keep you safe. And if it wasn't, you smell like me. I didn't need to say it." He paused. Xander still wasn't looking at him, but his body language was more open than it had been a minute ago. He still wasn't looking at Spike, but at least he was facing in the right direction. Spike took a deep breath and kept going.
"I didn't need to, but I wanted to. You want honesty? I wanted everyone there to know that you're mine. And you are, make no mistake about that. You gave yourself to me, and you sealed the bargain with blood and semen. You belong to me, Alexander Harris; you are *mine*." Spike's voice had dropped to a growl, groveling forgotten.
Xander stared at Spike in silence, his expression speculative. Then it firmed into determination, and Xander spoke.
"I love you. And I drew blood first, so you belong to me, too."
Spike stared, surprised. The whelp loved him? That had been the absolute last thing he'd ever expected to hear from Xander.
"Really? For how long?" Suddenly Spike needed to know.
"I've had the hots for you since before the chip, but it was when you lived here that I realized..." he trailed off.
"What?"
"That I could love you. That I wanted to do something about the chip because I wanted to help *you*, not just because it was wrong. And then, when we made a deal, I thought... I thought you were only in it for the chip, and the sex was a bonus. I didn't want you to know that I loved you."
Deep inside Spike, something broke free, or maybe just broke. This man loved him. Finally, maybe he could get it right this time.
"I was just going to enjoy it while it lasted."
Spike digested that silently for a moment, then said, "We're a right pair, aren't we?" He laid his head on Xander's thigh and felt tentative fingers stroke through his hair.
"Yeah, I guess we are."
"I love you."
"I know."
They sat in silence for a long time. Spike wondered what Xander was thinking about. He himself was unable to get past dizzying relief and soaring joy. Stern reminders to himself that as a vampire he should be above such human emotions made absolutely no difference. Finally Xander's husky voice broke into Spike's introspection.
"C'mon up here, vampire mine."
Spike stood gracefully and toed off his boots before straddling Xander's lap. He slid his hands under Xander's shirt and buried his face in the crook of Xander's neck, nuzzling the warm skin. He felt Xander's arms come around him, hands tucking into the back of his waistband. Their mouths met in a kiss that spoke volumes about love, and need.
---
They were down to just their jeans when Spike broke away.
"Fuck me." The order was whispered harshly. Spike's hands were busily undoing belts, buttons and zippers, both his own and Xander's.
Xander went still, so still that Spike looked up. Xander was almost comically wide-eyed, his expression the dictionary illustration of surprised.
Spike was concerned. "Pet?"
"Yeah?"
"Why are you so surprised?"
"You want me to fuck you."
"Yeah? So?" Spike was no longer concerned, he was puzzled instead.
"You, William the Bloody, Master vampire, really want me, Xander Harris, ordinary mortal, to fuck you," Xander stated, with blatant disbelief.
"Yeah." Spike leered hopefully.
"Why?"
"Why? What do you mean, 'why'?" Now it was Spike's turn to illustrate 'surprised'. "Why would I not want you to fuck me?" Had he missed something? Did Xander not want to for some reason?
"Umm, because you're a Master vampire so you're never on the bottom?"
Oh. Wait a minute...
Spike removed his hands from Xander's zipper and settled them instead on Xander's hips. This was obviously going to require some discussion. "Back up, pet. I think this needs some explanation. Why do you think that?"
Xander ducked his head, blushing.
"I read it in a book."
"Must've been an interesting book, pet. Where'd you get it?"
"Giles' bookcase. The one in the back, that he pretends we don't know about. He's got some interesting stuff back there."
Spike's eyebrows rose at that, but he only nodded encouragingly.
"When- It was- I..." Xander stopped, took a deep breath, then started again. "Remember the knife?"
Spike traced the curl of Xander's ear with the tip of his tongue before he answered.
"Fondly."
"When I first realized just how bad I had it for you, I did some research. I wanted to know what vampires liked, that humans could do. I figured I could do the knife. Anyway, do you know what kind of stuff the G-man has in his library? Way more than just Watcher's journals and demon encyclopedias. He's got stuff in there that reads like Hustler meets National Geographic meets Star Log. I found one called Vitae Vampirae. Sort of a Vampires for Dummies." At Spike's snort, he raised his eyebrow. "What?"
"Sorry, pet, but that book is a vampire in-joke."
"Huh?"
"I'm surprised Rupert has a copy of that rot. I wonder if he knows-?" Spike shook his head and brought himself back to the present. "It is Vampires for Dummies. See, there was this vampire craze in the early 1800's. Mind you, we had stopped hiding quite so much, so more people knew we were real. There are--there have always been--humans who know us, but don't fear us, the Behilflicher. Snobs call them cattle, because they do provide blood, if needed, but they're more like the Vampire Auxiliary. Anyway, things were getting hot. We were getting too well-known, and a lot of us were getting staked. One of the Behilflicher had the bright idea of telling all, only not quite telling the truth."
"In other words, vampire PR."
"Right. Only with our own spin on it. With the help of the Master of London, M LaVeau wrote Vitae Vampirae. It's mostly a crock; anything in there that's true is the sort of thing that can't be used against us, but it kept the public happy, and kept the vampire hunters running in circles." Spike paused, taking in Xander's slightly disappointed expression. "Pet?"
"So the part that says only childer, fledges, and minions get fucked, is that true or not?" Xander blushed vividly, but met Spike's eyes.
"Not, but it doesn't matter, pet. You're human, so the whole question is moot. You chose me freely; you're a consort, not a minion or a fledge. Or a Childe." Spike worked to keep his face neutral; it was far too soon to be thinking of Xander in terms like 'forever'. "What you said about you drawing blood first is true. We belong to each other."
Xander stayed quiet, but the tense set of his face eased.
"So that's why you didn't fuck me that first night, hmm?" Spike asked. "Even when I offered."
"That'd be why. I figured you were offering because of what I told you, about Uncle...about that. And since then, well," Xander stopped and blushed again, looking down.
Spike gently tipped Xander's chin up. "'Well' what, pet?"
"It's not like it's a hardship being fucked all the time."
Spike smiled at that, a genuine smile that lit up his face and made his eyes crinkle up at the corners.
"Now you know why I want you to fuck me, eh?"
"Yeah, I do." Xander returned the smile, his heart blazing in his eyes.
"So do it, already."
Xander pulled Spike towards him until their mouths met in the lightest of touches. He gradually deepened the pressure, but every time Spike tried to, Xander backed off.
"Slow, Spike, slow. We have all night and we're going to take all night."
Spike groaned in frustration but acquiesced, letting Xander take the lead. After the first night, when Xander had started things, he'd always let Spike take the lead. He'd never initiated sex, although he wasn't above hinting that that he wanted it. Spike figured it was a result of that stupid book, and hoped sincerely that Xander would take the initiative more often now that he knew he could.
Warm hands ghosted down his torso and around his waist, pulling him closer. As Xander's hands slid down the back of his pants, Spike dimly realized that they were in an almost perfect reversal of their first encounter.
Unfortunately, Xander's chair wasn't as big as Spike's had been, and they just didn't fit as well; Spike rocked back and promptly slid from Xander's knees to the floor.
"Bloody hell." Spike was peeved at the interruption.
"Never mind." Spike got out of the way as Xander slid out of the chair as well. Landing on his knees, he quickly pushed his jeans down his thighs before sitting back on his heels. He reached up to help Spike with his jeans, but Spike was already bent over, untying his boots.
He stepped out of them and reached for the waistband of his open jeans. Xander's husky voice stopped him cold.
"Spike."
"Yes, pet?" He looked up at Xander, and his first thought was that it was a good thing that he didn't have to breathe.
Xander was kneeling, sitting back on his heels, bare-chested, the dark fabric of his jeans framing his jutting erection. His hands were resting easily on his thighs, his expression calm, but the heat in his eyes as he looked at Spike burned an almost palpable trail on Spike's skin.
"Turn around, face the other way."
Smiling to himself, Spike did. Anticipation thrummed through him. He wasn't much for dominance games a la Angelus, where there was only taking and no giving, but this wasn't about taking. This was about giving; he was giving Xander control. The question was, would Xander take it?"Back up." Spike shuffled backwards until his hands were covered by Xander's. "Good, stop there. Push your pants down. Slow."
Spike slid his fingers under his waistband, feeling the contours of his ass under his hands. He pushed them down until his arms were fully extended, then he paused. As ordered, he slowly bent over, sliding his jeans down as he went, until his hands were bunched in the legs of his jeans, and his fingertips were touching his ankles. As he went to step out, Xander spoke again.
"Don't."
Spike didn't. He waited.
"You...it's probably girly of me to say this, but you are so...gorgeous. Sexy. Do you know what having you like this does to me?"
Spike knew. He could smell the heavy scent of arousal, feel the waves of heat coming from the man behind him.
"I want..." Xander paused. Trying to decide what he wanted, Spike wondered, or how--or whether--to ask for it?
Spike upped the ante. Xander would take the lead, but would he take control? Was this what he wanted, that he didn't know how to ask for? "Whatever you want, pet, it's yours." Spike's voice was low, intense. "But you have to take it."
"Take it? I can do that." Xander's voice was raspy with lust and possessiveness, and the faint scent that Spike had tentatively identified as fear? anxiety? nervousness? faded away.
Good. He had guessed right.
Xander rubbed his hands up Spike's calves and back down, then back up the back of his thighs until his hands were cupped around Spike's ass. He squeezed lightly, then harder. Spike groaned and pushed back into it. Xander let go.
"Show me yourself."
What? Oh. His feet, still trapped in his pants, were as far apart as they could get. Spike dragged his hands up his legs, digging his nails in and enjoying the sting. When he got to his ass, he slid his fingers around the sharp curves in the center and spread himself open, exposing his hole. The scent of arousal thickened in the air as the sound of Xander's breathing deepened.
Again Spike waited, riding the tension coiling in his gut. He'd suspected the whelp had the potential for this; it was always the quiet ones.
Xander's hands brushed lightly up his legs and settled on his hips. Spike jerked as hot breath gusted on his balls.
"I have to take it, hmm?"
Heat streaked between his fingers, then cool as Xander blew on the spot he'd licked. He kissed the back of Spike's balls, then licked around the fingers of Spike's other hand, working his way around but never over the place Spike was desperately hoping he'd get to soon.
"Xander, come on!" ground out Spike desperately.
"Do you want it, Spike?" asked Xander.
"Yes!" Spike was nearly shouting.
"You can have it, but you have to ask for it." The teasing in Xander's voice was nearly the undoing of Spike's control.
"Fuck me, then." Ragged, nearly pleading.
"No. Not yet, anyway." Xander's voice was dark, full of promise.
Spike groaned harshly, the sound cut off as Xander tongued his hole.
"Like that?"
"Bleedin' hell, pet, you're killing me!"
"I can't kill you; you're already dead." The words were muffled by the fact that Xander had his face buried between Spike's thighs. "You'll just have to live with it."
Xander went back to work. His hot tongue flickered and probed, then backed out again to lay searing kisses and playful licks on Spike's backside.
Spike was in a heaven of torment. Or was that hell? He could no longer think straight; most of his borrowed blood was throbbing in his cock, which had been leaking steadily since Xander had asked him to show himself.
Xander was concentrating on opening him now, probing deeply. He sucked briefly at the muscular ring, then probed, then sucked and probed again, and again. That hot tongue was slowly melting Spike's insides.
"I'm close, pet." Spike began rocking back into Xander's thrusting tongue, chanting, "Now, pet, now."
Xander sucked hard, rhythmically, flicking his tongue against Spike's hole until Spike was shaking and groaning with the intensity of his orgasm. He could feel the come drip down his chest and thighs. The only thing holding him up was his will, and Xander's hands, which were branding his hips.
"Xander..."
"Okay?" asked Xander.
"Yeah."
The rested for a few minutes, Xander nuzzling Spike's hands.
"When you're ready, take off your pants."
Spike straightened up and stepped out of his jeans, kicking them across the small room.
"Come down here."
Still facing away, Spike straddled Xander's legs and sank gracefully down to kneel in Xander's lap. Xander's unfulfilled erection was a burning iron rod between Spike's cheeks, and he felt himself begin to harden again as Xander's hands slid around his hips to the inside of his thighs.
Xander cradled Spike's balls, squeezing lightly. Trailing almost ticklish fingertips up Spike's torso, he pinched Spike's nipples, rolling them between finger and thumb until they were tight, hard nubs.
Suddenly, he hugged Spike hard. "God, Spike. I love you so much." The fervent words were spoken into the crook of Spike's neck.
"So show me."
"I'm going to."
Xander turned slightly and groped under the cushion of the chair. They had started keeping tubes of lube nearly everywhere, since location didn't seem to have any bearing on their activities. There was even lube in the kitchen area-in two different drawers.
"I'm going to fuck you so deep. You'll always be able to feel me." Xander slicked his fingers down Spike's hard-again cock, over his balls and back to his hole, where he drew slippery circles until Spike was quivering.
"You are trying to kill me, aren't you, pet?"
Xander's chuckle was throaty.
"Ready?" Spike never got a chance to answer. "Lift up."
Strong workman's hands lifted him. One hand left him and moments later blunt heat nudged at his opening. The missing hand came back and steadied him.
"Let me in, Spike."
Spike took a deep breath and let it out slowly, hoping old human reflexes would help him relax. It had been a long time since he had done this, and he and Xander hadn't played like this, not even fingers.
"Let me in," Xander said again.
Spike sank down. There was a moment of tension, when it felt like the world itself was holding its breath as he hung there, poised between frustration and completion.
Slowly he opened to Xander's insistent heat, the burn of penetration flaming up his spine. Before long, he was completely impaled. He was shocked to realize that the panting was coming from him, although Xander's breath was hot on his neck.
"God, Spike. I'm really inside you." The wonder in Xander's voice was amazing to Spike.
"You feel good, pet."
"Do I? So do you. I don't think this is going to last very long, despite what I said about taking all night."
They rocked together, Xander rising to meet Spike, Spike lowering to meet Xander. Hands wandered, stroking, murmurs of love and lust were exchanged.
"Now, Spike." Xander wrapped one arm around Spike's waist and held him in place as he powered into him. Spike jerked and morphed into gameface as Xander bit into the base of his neck. Hard; Spike could smell his own blood. Before he could think about that though, Xander was forcing his hand into Spike's mouth, cutting the ball of his thumb against Spike's fangs. The rich coppery blood filled Spike's mouth and he swallowed it down, feeling Xander sucking at the wound in his neck, swallowing his blood.
"Now!" Xander lifted into Spike, once, twice, again, and then Spike was lost in sensation as orgasm hit him again. He was vaguely aware of Xander releasing his neck and gasping in his ear.
Long moments later he came back to himself. He was still kneeling astride Xander, who was leaning against the front of the chair. Xander was still inside him, but softening quickly. The wound on his neck had already healed, and when Spike looked at the base of Xander's thumb, it had already stopped bleeding.
"Pet...why did you do that?"
"Because I knew you wanted to, but couldn't. If I caused the pain, it wouldn't set your chip off."
"Did it hurt?" Spike was concerned.
"It feels funny now. Achy somehow. But no, it didn't hurt. It felt pretty damned amazing, actually."
"Good. But that wasn't what I meant. I meant why-"
Xander interrupted. "Why did I bite you?" Spike nodded. "Because I wanted to. I wanted you, that part of you." Xander's voice took a teasing tone. "You said I could have anything I wanted, but I had to take it."
"So I did. Need to be careful with that though. Too much isn't good for you."
"I know. But tonight, it was worth it."
"You drank my blood, pet. We're bound now, you and I."
"I know. And I scarred you. It's healed, but you can see a scar."
"Really?" Spike shifted around to face Xander. "There's a scar there?"
"Um, yeah. Sorry." Xander looked contrite.
"Don't be, pet. That's a good thing, actually. It means that my demon recognizes you as my mate."
"Mate, huh? Did we just get married?" Xander didn't sound like he minded that idea at all.
"Nope. Engaged, maybe. Until I can Claim you, proper-like, it's not official, as it were."
"Mmm. I love you."
Xander pulled Spike against him and they rested there. In a mirror of their first encounter, it was Spike's purring that jolted Xander awake.
"Come on, Fang Boy. There's a bed here, let's use it."
Spike stood and stretched, laughing when Xander blew a raspberry in his belly button. He stretched out a hand and hauled Xander to his feet.
"I do love you, pet. You know that, right?" He pulled Xander close and watched his face closely. It was important to him that Xander know that this was more than trade for help with the chip, more than just a fuck.
This was real.
---
Three days later, Xander's lunchtime nap in the shade on the far side of the observatory on campus was interrupted by a noise that sounded like someone making a raspberry. When the noise was repeated, he tipped his hat back and looked around. A flash of blue caught his attention, and he got up to investigate. Wondering if will o' the wisps were Slayer-worthy, he followed brief glimpses to an abandoned folly at the edge of the campus. Stepping over the rubble of a collapsed column, he peered into the shady gloom.
"Hello?" He paused. "Great, Harris, now you're *talking* to a will o' the wisp."
An amused-sounding raspberry made him start and look around.
"No, AlexanderZpike, I'm not a wisp."
He raised his eyebrows at the name? title? and waited for Zib to continue.
"You remember me?"
"Yeah. The blue guy that grabbed my crotch at the bar. Zib, right?" The iridescent blue of Zib's head and neck nearly glowed in the shadows.
"Zpike was looking for my boss, DaV'aarr. DaV'aarr, he be delayed, but he be back in three more days. You tell Zpike, be ready then, yes?"
"Okay, I'll tell him. Anything else?"
"Yes. DaV'aarr, he owes *great* blood debt. He knows, Zpike is whole, Zpike leave the Hellmouth. Needs wheels to go. DaV'aarr zay, tell Zpike to choose wheels, they be ready when he is. Zpike must choose by tomorrow this time. Tell him?"
"Yeah, sure. Wait..." Xander trailed off, thinking. "Tell you what. Can you meet me here tomorrow, this time? I'll ask Spike what he wants, then I can tell you, since he doesn't do the whole daylight thing. Or wait, you don't either, right? Where can I find you? I'll stop on my way to work in the morning."
"Is okay. I like zunshine, but I like plants better, ztay in them when I can. I come here tomorrow, you tell. You come, Zpike knows where, in three days, and DaV'aarr help. Yes?"
"I can do that. I'll see you tomorrow, and I guess we'll see you in three days."
"Right. Tomorrow then." Zib hopped nimbly over the back wall of the folly and disappeared into the undergrowth. Xander shook his head and headed back to work. Peacock demons and cars in payment for blood debts... Knowing Spike was definitely an adventure.
---
"Hey, I ran into a friend of yours today." At Spike's questioning grunt, he added, "And I'm pleased to say that he didn't grab my balls."
"Zib?" Spike's head came up fast, and he stared at Xander, curiosity warring with impatience for predominance. "What'd he want?"
"He said DaV'aarr's going to be late getting here, and that we should meet him in three days time--I'm assuming he means nights--he said you'd know where to meet. DaV'aarr'll be back by then and Operation Zap-The-Chip will officially be a go. He'll come see me at work tomorrow like he did today to make sure that's okay." He didn't mention the car; he wanted it to be a surprise.
"Three days? Shit. Well, it can't be helped, I guess."
"Nope. I rented us some movies."
"Got lots of blood and guts?"
"No."
"Sex? Tits and ass?" At Xander's raised eyebrow, he defended himself. "What? They're nice to look at."
"Yes, they are, and yes, there's T&A in some of them."
"Only some? What's the point, then?"
"Oh, I think you'll like them. The video place was having a theme special." At Spike's raised eyebrow he continued. "You know, if you rent two movies with the same theme, you get the third movie free. Tonight's theme was cars and since I used to work there, Matt gave me one free for each rental. I've got Herbie the Love Bug, Moonraker, Cannonball Run, Harold & Maude, Gone In 60 Seconds, and Chitty Chitty Bang Bang." The last he had gotten mostly to see the look that was now on Spike's face; suspicion, surprise, disbelief, and over all the unwillingness to say anything that might get his chances for nooky shot down in flames.
Xander made popcorn and they settled in to watch the first movie, Moonraker. Then they watched Gone in 60 Seconds, and after they finished the popcorn they put in Cannonball Run.
"Gonna make more popcorn, luv?"
"What, that wasn't enough?"
He made another bowl of popcorn before Harold & Maude, having been bribed into it by an offer of toe-sucking. By the time Xander had cleaned up the popcorn and unfolded the couch after the movie, Spike had enough breath back to actually talk, not just laugh insanely.
"Oh, God...with the cleaver...<snort>...that was just too..."
Well, almost.
"And the look on his mum's face when she saw Maude's picture...and that car...Talk about a classic set o' wheels."
Ah ha. Here was his opening.
"If you could have any car you wanted, what would you want?"
"Any car?"
"Any car."
"Why do you want to know?"
Oops. Spike was getting suspicious. Time to turn on the Xander charm.
"It's called 'male bonding', Spike, it's something human guys do to kill time. You might not be exactly human anymore, but last time I checked," he paused for a quick grope, "you were *definitely* a guy. And you've been around since before cars were. So c'mon, tell me, if you could have any car in the world, from real life or a movie or whatever, what would it be?"
Spike turned the question back on Xander. "What would you want?"
"I always thought the 'Vette in the beginning of Heavy Metal would be cool. Not to mention easy to park. Or what about the submarine car in Moonraker? Ooh, I know! The Impala from American Graffiti. Now that was a sweet ride. I wouldn't want the Chevy; with my luck, it'd turn out to be Christine's sister."
"Probably would, pet, what with you bein' a demon magnet an' all."
The conversation wandered from Model A's and Duesenbergs to Caspitas and Lamborghinis. Muscle cars like GTO's and Mustangs, and the difference between the old 'Vettes and the new ones that didn't look like 'Vettes. Sleepers like the Nissan Skyline that looked like a businessman's sedan but could blow your doors off. Spike told an improbable story about making it with Drusilla in the back of an Aston Martin that had belonged to an unfortunate snack; Xander countered with an equally improbable story about an event during his days as a pizza delivery driver.
An hour of carefully directed male bonding later, Xander moved in for the kill.
"So which car would you want?"
A sheepish look was his only reply.
"C'mon, Fang Boy, fess up."
Spike mumbled.
"I've licked your ass, Spike, you don't have any deep dark secrets anymore. Give."
"Harold's hearse, all right? Midnight blue pearl finish, cream leather interior. The twelve cylinder engine, not the six." Spike's voice was sulky.
Xander was genuinely surprised. He'd figured Spike for a muscle car, something older, with a giant air scoop and lots of testosterone under the hood.
"Really? Why?"
"I like it. Fast, classy, different. Kinda like me." Spike recovered his equilibrium a bit and went on. "And it's a hearse, innit? Could put a coffin in the back for me to nap in, instead of bein' crunched in the boot."
Xander worked hard to hide his elation. Now he knew what to tell Zib.
"That'd be cool. Hey, you about ready for bed? *Some* of us have to work for a living tomorrow."
With a fair amount of companionable bickering, they got ready for bed. Content just to be, they lay wrapped around each other as they faded slowly into sleep.
---
Xander got up early the next morning, showered, didn't bother to shave, downed a quick cup of coffee, smooched Spike, and headed off to work before Spike could wake up enough to drag him back into bed.
He stopped by the video store to drop off the movies, knowing that Matt would still be there, doing the inventory. Matt had to show off the latest equipment, which gave Xander an idea.
"You can do a screen capture and print it out?" he asked.
"Yep. Wanna see?"
"Yeah. Um, actually, could you get me a couple pictures of Harold's car?" He waved the Harold & Maude tape in the direction of the tape player.
Matt looked at him strangely, but did as asked. Ten minutes later, Xander was headed to the campus, a stack to 8 x 10's on the seat beside him. Five shots; forward three-quarter, rear three-quarter, front-on, back-on, and side-on. He didn't know if it was overkill or not; what did demons know about movie cars? He figured better safe than sorry.
As soon as his lunch break rolled around, Xander headed back to the old folly. Zib was waiting for him.
"Oh, hey. I didn't think I was late. Have you been waiting long?"
"No. I came early. I like plants here. Old, wild. Not zee many like this anymore. You know car Zpike wants?"
"Yep, and I brought pictures." Xander handed them over.
"Ooh, nice. Zpike has good taste. This is Jaguar E-type, yes?"
"Yeah, a '69. This one is probably a modified convertible. He wants the 12-cylinder engine, midnight blue pearl finish paint, cream leather interior. A casket in the back, something dark, with a crimson lining. Can you do all that? I have a few ideas for other cars he'd like if you can't."
"We can do." Zib's expression, as far as Xander could tell, was determined. "Jaguar not put 12-zylinder in until '71, but we can put. Is easy." He turned the pictures over and produced a very ordinary Bic pen from...somewhere...to write with. Xander watched with interest as Zib wrote; beautiful spiraling shapes, circles and French curves. For the first time, he understood Giles' fascination with demon languages.
Xander couldn't stand it anymore; his natural curiosity got the best of him. "What are you writing?"
"Color, engine, casket. Make recommendations for adjustments." Zib answered.
"Um, what kind of 'adjustments'?" In Xander's experience, that sort of thing very rarely turned out well on the Hellmouth.
"No fear, AlexanderZpike. Only things that will help, not harm. Only things demon can do, for other demon." He paused, seeming to search for words.
"What?"
"You and Zpike are...intimate?"
"Um, yeah. You knew that, at the bar the other night."
"Not zex, blood. Have you shared blood? Have you tasted his?" Zib clarified.
"Oh, that. Yeah. Um, yeah. Why?"
"We need to bind car magic to you and Zpike. Easiest way is blood. You have drunk of him; he is in you. Your blood is both."
"Let me guess: you're saying that you want some of my blood?" He didn't wait for an answer. Instead, sighing resignedly, he fished in his pocket for his penknife and handkerchief.
"You will bleed? You underztand magic?" Zib asked in surprise.
"I live on the Hellmouth. I work with the Slayer. My best friend is a witch. I understand."
Xander spit on his handkerchief and wiped off the grime on a spot on the ball of his thumb. Spike's fangs had left faint scars there already, so hopefully any scar from this would blend in. He turned to Zib. "Ready?"
"Three drops only." Zib held out the picture he'd been writing on and pointed to an unwritten-on corner.
Xander braced himself and made a quick, short slice across his thumb. Blood welled up and he squeezed, dripping twice on the paper. He had to work for the third drop, and ended up blotting the already-healing cut on the paper to make it.
"Thank you, AlexanderZpike. I will take this immediately to DaV'aarr." Zib said formally as he carefully folded the pictures and put them...away. Xander decided there were some things about demon anatomy he just didn't need to know.
"You're welcome. See you Friday?" Xander checked his watch.
"Yes, Friday night. Zhould I tell DaV'aarr watch for Zlayer?"
Xander hadn't thought of that. "No. Well, maybe. Um...yes, probably, to be on the safe side. She doesn't know about Spike and me, and she sure doesn't know about Operation Zap-the-Chip. She won't be pleased if she finds out."
On that note, they parted company.
---
Friday didn't come soon enough for either of them. The rest of the week they were by turns irritable and snappish, apologetic and quiet, tender and loving.
There were so many things that could go wrong. Unable to make himself stop, Spike whiled away the hours of Xander's workday listing the possibilities.
Buffy and the gang would find out and stop them, or try to. That one was a real possibility, but not much of a problem, since he knew what to do now, and could do it anywhere. But if she, or they, demanded that the whelp choose between him and them, what then? His short history with Xander was mostly bad; their long history with Xander was mostly good.
It would work, but since the chip was so deep in his brain, and wired to so much of it, he'd be left a vegetable, if that were even possible. Spike liked his unlife, and even though he didn't mind risking it, he didn't want to live trapped within himself again. He had hated the wheelchair with a passion. He'd rather be dust.
It would work, and Xander would leave. This one was the hardest to face, that Xander might only feel safe with him when he was leashed by the chip. True, it had been the whelp's idea, but Spike knew well enough that the gulf between having a plan and the reality of that plan coming to fruition could be enormous. Was there enough love to overcome fear?
On the great balance scales of life, which weighed more; having Xander or losing the chip? It wasn't a question he liked asking, and he definitely didn't want to have to answer it.
Snarling at his too-human introspection, Spike continued to pace in the small area. He hated having time to think; he did too much of it.
Finally, finally it was Friday and Xander was home.
"Hey, Spike, how was your day?" Xander asked as he came in the door.
Spike just shrugged.
"Yeah. Mine was kinda like that, too. Hungry?"
Being queasy was one sensation he vividly remembered from being human. Was he hungry? Not hardly. He was too queasy to be hungry.
"No. Not really," he finally managed.
"Me either. Let's go to bed." Without waiting for an answer, Xander unfolded the couch.
They undressed in silence and slid into the rumpled bed. They clung together, just holding each other, keeping the darkness at bay.
Xander's heart pounded wildly against Spike's chest, and he smelled of desperation and fear.
"Spike, I'm scared."
"I am too, pet." Spike surprised himself with the admission.
Xander drew back in shock. "You? Of what?"
Now that dam had been breached, Spike couldn't seem to stop the flow of words. "Of this not working. Of looking at you and seeing fear in your eyes. Of you choosing something other than me. Of losing you over this."
Xander stopped the flow with his own words. "Never. Never, Spike, you will never lose me." Xander pulled Spike closer and hung on tight.
"Pet...Xander, I could never leave you. I've loved three times in my life; losing you would destroy me. What do you Americans say, three strikes and you're out?" Spike tried to lighten the tone.
"We also say, third time's the charm. Spike, this *will* work. It has to." He pulled Spike into a deep, slow kiss.
Their loving was slow and intense. They stroked one another to a fever pitch, each urging the other to greater heights. Spike reveled in the feeling of warm bare skin against his, inhaled the scents that would always mean Xander to him. He combed through Xander's hair, letting the sweaty curls cling to his fingers. Xander in his turn was almost fierce, digging his nails into Spike's shoulder, biting Spike's nipples, his tongue, anywhere he could reach. Spike purred deep in his chest and let Xander push him over onto his back.
They ground against one another, murmuring words of love and reassurance, releasing their fear in the urgency of lust. In the stillness after, Spike stared at Xander, trying to memorize the planes of his face, drowsy with contentment, the feel of sweaty, slightly clammy skin sticking to him. The smell of sunshine and sweat, dirt and come; the sound of Xander's heartbeat slowing its frantic pounding. Everything. If this were the last time... Ruthlessly he cut off that thought. Xander was right; this would work, because it had to. No other alternative was acceptable.
Sated, calmer, they held one another until Xander's watch beeped. Xander pulled Spike into another deep slow kiss. "I love you," he said when he released Spike. "Let's go."
They each took a quick shower and dressed, again mostly in silence. All the important things had been said.
They took Xander's car to the junkyard, and parked behind the leaning fence. As they walked to the office, Spike saw several demons push the gate to and lock it, with both a key and a flare of magic. Xander saw him watching and answered his unspoken question.
"Zib asked me about Buffy. I figured better safe than sorry. The less she finds out, and the later she finds it out, the better for all of us. I know you said you wouldn't kill her, but she's never said the same about you, and she's not going to be real happy with me, either."
Spike nodded as he pushed the office door open. He greeted the man inside briefly, then turned to Xander.
"Pet, this is DaV'aarr." He turned to DaV'aarr. "DaV'aarr, this is my mate, Xander."
"Mate, eh?" He eyed Xander up and down. "Then this thing needs doing."
The man facing them was a big, bluff, hearty guy, tall and heavy. His furry belly hung over his low-slung jeans, out from under the bottom of his dirty white t-shirt. The red flannel shirt he wore over it had the sleeves rolled up, exposing muscular, hairy forearms. His dark hair was combed back in a classic ducktail with thick sideburns framing heavy jowls. All in all, he looked much like the redneck Elvis impersonator Spike had described-except for his eyes, which were an odd green color and had slitted pupils like a snake.
DaV'aarr led them out into the junkyard, through a twisted maze of towers of rusting cars. Some of the towers were leaning more than Spike was happy with, and he spared a thought to wonder how they stayed balanced.
They got to a large clearing in the junk. Spike guessed it was the regular work area which had been cleared for the occasion. There was a blue plastic tarp, relatively clean, laid out in the center of the area. The crane was sitting in the shadows, but the boom with the dangling magnet was almost spotlighted by worklights.
"Ok, then. This is what we're gonna do here." DaV'aarr interrupted Spike's musings. "You, Spike, are goin' to stand over there," DaV'aarr waved a beefy arm in the general direction of the tarp, "and I'm goin' to lower the magnet until it's within six inches of your head. You want to be standing or laying down for this one?"
"Um, laying down," Xander answered.
Spike shot him a nasty look. He was the Big Bad, and he met life standing on his own two feet, thank you.
Xander didn't back down. "Spike, what happens when your chip goes off hard? You fall down. We don't know what this is going to do to you or your chip. If you start down, you can't fall down."
"Listen to your mate, Spikester, he's makin' sense," drawled DaV'aarr.
Grimacing at the nickname, Spike gave in. It did make sense.
"After we know where we need the magnet, I'll program the controls. Zib here is gonna cast a circle around you. We don't want nothin' goin' wrong. You lay down, I drop the magnet- No, not drop like that. Sheesh, humans with no sense of humor. I *lower* the magnet--is that better?--and turn it on. Now, it's an infinitely-variable model, so we'll start low and keep turning it up until somethin' happens. When somethin' happens, we'll stop and see what it is and whether we should keep goin' or not."
He turned to Xander. "That's where you come in, human. You know the Spikester here the best, so you stay with him and signal when you think somethin' has happened. You don't have a pacemaker or nothin', do you?" At Xander's negative head shake, he continued. "Good. Then the magnet won't do nothin' to you. You might be able to feel the hum, but that should be it."
Spike was glad that Xander would be with him. He told himself that it was because he didn't want Xander worrying, but he knew, deep inside, that he was still scared. He wasn't so worried about Xander leaving him post-chip; their tryst earlier in the evening had settled a lot of those questions. But if this was going to be his last moment on earth, he wanted Xander with him. He knew he was being as gloomy as his poofy Sire, but he figured he was entitled to it this once.
"This is the signal for 'boom up'," DaV'aarr demonstrated, "and as soon as either of you do that, I'll shut off the magnet and move it out of the way. Any questions so far?"
Spike looked at Xander, who shrugged.
"No. Let's just get going." Spike knew he was being rude, but he just wanted to get this over with, one way or another.
"Right. Places, everybody!" DaV'aarr shouted.
Spike grabbed Xander. "You sure you want to do this, pet?"
"Me? It's not happening to me. It's all you, Fang Boy. It's your decision. But since you asked, yes, I still want to do this." Xander said confidently. "You deserve to be you again."
Spike stared deep into brown eyes and saw nothing but love and confidence. Suddenly all of his poofy brooding seemed uncalled for.
"What are you waiting for then?" He grinned at Xander and kissed him hard before loping over to the tarp. He took off his duster and handed it to a demon standing beside Zib before laying down. Xander followed more slowly and sat beside the tarp.
"Ready, Zpike?" asked Zib.
"We're ready," replied Xander.
Zib signaled DaV'aarr and the crane roared to life. The magnet lowered toward Spike. Zib watched carefully; when it was within three feet he made smaller motions with his hands and the magnet slowed its descent, until it was about six inches above the end of Spike's nose. A sharp signal from Zib and the magnet paused, then rose until it was ten feet or so in the air.
Zib backed away and began to chant in the same sibilant buzz he'd spoken in the bar. He poured a glittering stream of salt in a nearly perfect circle around them. Spike could feel the magic take hold, the *something* in the back of his mind that he had always equated with mojo.
"Turn over, Spike. The chip's in the back of your head, and we want this to work the first time," suggested Xander.
Spike rolled over. He heard the change in the sound of the crane that meant the magnet was lowering, but he couldn't see it. He could feel it as it got closer though, a massive presence hanging over him.
There was a pause; he nodded to Xander, who nodded to Zib. Almost immediately his whole body was humming. His skin itched from the inside. Pain was growing in his head, and there was a spot of heat blossoming under his shoulderblade.
Xander nodded again and the hum intensified, as did the itching, pain and heat.
"Crank it," he ground out.
Xander looked at him, his expression a question.
"It's working. Crank it," he repeated.
Xander repeated it to Zib. The humming intensified, doubling and redoubling until Spike was writhing with itch and pain. A sudden sharp stab in his head made him gasp and cover his head with his hands. That seemed to be what Xander was waiting for; he signalled frantically to Zib and the hum shut off abruptly as the magnet swung away.
As the pain and itch subsided, Spike realized that Xander was beating on his back. Before he could ask why, there was a hollow 'fwoosh' and cold, covering his back. When fog began to settle, Spike realized they'd used a fire extinguisher on him. Dimly, he wondered why. Had he been on fire?
"Spike? You in there?" came Xander's tentative question. He hesitated, then reached out and took Spike's hand in his.
"Yeah," he grunted. "Give me a minute. Feel like I've been turned inside out."
"You were on fire, too. Dunno why."
"I do." DaV'aarr came striding toward them, stopping only when he got to the salt barrier. "It's why I had the fire extinguisher ready-I thought somethin' like this might happen."
"Well? What was it?" Spike was glad Xander had asked; he didn't think he had the energy.
"The chip's power source. I did some research after Zib told me what you wanted, Spike. I found out there had to be a power source attached to your chip. Take your shirt off and lemme see."
Zib hastily dismissed the circle and scuffed the salt. Spike felt the power fade with every scuff until it was gone, along with the physical remnants of the circle. DaV'aarr crouched over him and used a pair of emergency shears to cut away the remains of Spike's blackened t-shirt.
"Yeah, see, right here under this bone." DaV'aarr gingerly touched Spike's shoulderblade. "I had to research human anatomy, too, and there's space here for a small power source. When that fried, you caught fire. That's good though-it doesn't matter whether we got the chip or not; with no power source, it's useless." DaV'aarr finished.
Spike was pretty sure they'd gotten the chip; that had to be what that last stabbing pain was. They waited a few more minutes, until Spike could stagger to his feet. Xander collected Spike's duster from the demon, and they left it and Zib to clean up.
Back in the office, Spike felt his strength returning like the incoming tide. He felt refreshed, revitalized.
Xander asked the question they all wanted the answer to.
"Well? Did it work?"
Spike knew there was only one way to find out. Without warning he lashed out at Xander, the only human in the room. Spike caught him square on the cheek with an open-handed slap. Hard enough to hurt, not hard enough to damage, but enough to test the chip.
Xander, to his credit, didn't duck. He rocked on his feet, but as soon as he'd recovered his balance he threw his arms around the still-upright Spike and danced him around the room.
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" he shouted. "It worked! It really worked! You're you again!"
Xander was pretty sure that Spike's grin was almost as wide as his, and his felt like it was ear to ear. He almost felt drunk, giddy with relief. It had worked.
Xander saw Spike vamp out and his eyebrows went up, but when Spike shook his head, Xander backed up, leaving Spike facing DaV'aarr. DaV'aarr noticed the byplay, and then noticed Spike. He turned to face Spike fully, then he too morphed into his true form.
Xander had known that DaV'aarr was a demon, but he'd never seen his true form before. DaV'aarr was large and froggish, with mottled gray skin and a bright green streak around each eye. His eyes were the only thing that stayed the same.
"I, DaV'aarr, ask; do you, William the Bloody, consider the blood debt owed you to be paid?" asked DaV'aarr.
"I, William the Bloody, do consider the blood debt owed me to be satisfied," responded Spike formally.
"You have my gratitude, my brother."
"As it was..."
"So it is again." DaV'aarr's natural voice was rougher than his human voice.
Together they said, "It is done."
Spike stayed in game face for a few more seconds, but DaV'aarr relaxed back into his human guise as soon as the words were said.
"Good, good, now that the formality's out of the way, I gotta say that's crap. My worthless spawn was going to die, but for your intervention." DaV'aarr spoke with fond exasperation, and Xander wondered just how often DaV'aarr's spawn got into trouble. Giles had the exact same tone when he or Willow or Buffy had done something stupid, again. "So, I had Zib there talk to your mate here, and we came up with somethin' else."
"DaV'aarr, that wasn't-"
"Yes, it was," DaV'aarr said with finality.
Xander was having a hard time not bouncing. He knew what was coming up, even if he hadn't actually seen it yet.
"As I was saying, Zib and your mate cooked up a little something, and I gotta say, I had a helluva lotta fun puttin' it together. Come 'ere and I'll show you."
They left the office and moved down a short hallway. They stopped at a door at the far end.
"Close your eyes, Spike."
Spike rolled his eyes, but closed them. Xander put his hands over them, making sure they stayed closed. Xander was nervous; would Spike like it?
The door creaked open, then Xander urged him forward, into a large open garage. He gasped when he saw the waiting car.
"Okay, you can open your eyes now." He moved his hands away.
"How in bloody blazes did you arrange *this*?" Spike stared in amazement, alternating between Xander and the car he was standing in front of. "Those movies. You tricked me, you, you-" Spike spluttered to a halt.
Xander laughed, pleased with himself. "Yes, I did, Fang Boy, how else was I going to find out? And face it-that decrepit DeSoto of yours was never going to make it out of Sunnyhell, let alone anywhere else."
Spike hugged Xander hard, then released him to look at the car. It was a '69 Jaguar E-Type hearse, just like Harold's. It had a pearly, midnight blue finish, even the hearse part. The chrome was all brushed, with a matte finish, and the windows, with the exception of those in the front, were blackout dark. Through the front window they could see the creamy pale leather upholstery.
The hatchback was standing open to reveal a starkly simple ebony and silver casket lined with deep garnet velvet. Inside the propped-open lid they could see stereo speakers and an intercom unit. Tucked along side the casket was a medium-sized plug-in cooler.
"Cool!" Xander enthused. "You've thought of everything!"
DaV'aarr looked pleased, and spoke with quiet pride. "We made a few modifications. For starters, you'll never lose your keys-they're charmed." Metal flashed as he tossed something to Spike. It was a key, attached to a half-size railroad spike. Xander's own key was attached to a largish ivory fang and Xander knew without asking that the fang had belonged to a hyena. "You'll need to get gas, but you won't have to fill 'er up so often; 'er tank isn't so big, but it'll last ya three-four times as long as usual. A regular mechanic can work on 'er, but if the part doesn't need fixin', it won't come loose. You should bring 'er back here when you can for tune-ups. And she isn't completely magic-proof, but as long as yer inside 'er and have the doors closed, any spell won't have much effect. She can't be stolen, either."
Xander was fascinated. Magic, to him, was big, and for emergencies only. This kind of practical magic was different than what he was used to.
Spike stood stroking the hood of the car, so Xander was left to learn the ins and outs. He and DaV'aarr went over it and at one point, under it. They had just come out from under the car when Spike pinned Xander with a look.
"Shall we take it for a drive, pet?"
"Sure." Xander replied, but he was distracted again by DaV'aarr, who had yet another cool thing to point out.
"Luv, I can bite you now, you know."
"Uh huh." He turned back to DaV'aarr. "And what about-" he whipped around to face Spike again. "You can bite me? Ooh! Um, yeah, uh, right, sure. Thanks, DaV'aarr, for doing this, this is really great, but we have to be going now, we'll be in touch, is the gate unlocked?" He scrambled around the front of the car and was in and fastening his seatbelt while Spike and DaV'aarr goggled at him.
Finally DaV'aarr laughed. "Go on, Spikester, go home. A man has to take care of his mate, eh?" He winked at Spike as Spike moved around the car and got in. "Keep in touch, Spike. I don't like to lose track of friends."
The car started with a quiet purr, and Xander waited impatiently for the doors to rise and let them out. By the time they got to the gate, it was standing open and they waved at Zib as they pulled through it.
They took a quick turn through Sunnydale, winding it out on the back roads between cemeteries. The car drove like a dream, handled smoothly and was never louder than that same quiet roar it had started with.
Xander was anxious to get home and get to the biting part of the evening, but he could tell Spike had something on his mind, so he let him drive in peace and didn't ask any of the questions banging around in his head, demanding to be let out. Finally they pulled up and parked in front of Xander's and sat for a moment, the ticking of the cooling engine the only noise.
Just as Xander reached for the door handle, Spike spoke. "Xander- luv, we have to talk."