My Scorpion
By Firehorse
Spike took in the defensive set of Xander' shoulders as he sat tensely on the couch and reminded himself that he was not a coward, he could do this. He could tell Xander everything and most probably drive him away. It had been fun while it lasted, right? The afternoon's reassurances of love and commitment seemed very far away.He thought longingly of the Jack Daniels in the kitchen area but decided against it. Straightening his own shoulders, he sat down beside Xander and took his hand, surprised to find the usually-warm mortal's hand was colder than his own.
"Pet?" He rubbed the cold hand gently between his own. "What's wrong?"
"You want to talk. Let me save you the trouble; I've heard it before. It was fun. I'm a great guy, and not too bad in bed. You appreciate the help. But, and here's the kicker, it just wouldn't work out, so you'll be going now. Don't worry, I'll have a nice life." Xander spoke in a flat, bitter monotone. He looked down at their clasped hands and tried to pull away, but Spike didn't let go.
"Pet, will you listen a minute?" He folded Xander's still-cold hand between both of his.
"Yes, I want to talk to you. It is fun, and you are a great bloke, and good bit better than 'not too bad' in the sack, too. I do appreciate the help; I never would have thought of it, never could have done it without your help. And it may not work out. You may decide you don't want it to after you hear what I have to say."
Xander was watching him now, from under eyelashes spiky with unshed wetness. Spike shifted to his game face, took a deep breath and continued.
"I want you to look at me. This is what I am. A demon, luv. Soulless. Evil. From hell and eventually going back to hell. I've killed more people than you've ever known and enjoyed their pain. I'll kill again; it's in my nature to do so."
Xander looked at him squarely for a moment, then opened his mouth to say something. Spike shook his head and Xander subsided.
"This is what I am, this is what I will always be. But what I want, for as long as I can have it, is you. I love you like no one else, not even Dru; my dark princess was never the equal that you are. I want to Claim you properly, if you'll let me. I want forever."
Spike held Xander's gaze as he stared at Spike for long, silent minutes. If he had breath he would have held it. He was, however, unprepared for Xander's question.
"Are you asking me to marry you?"
"I- yes. I am."
"Is it in your nature to love me?"
"Yes."
"You said forever. Does that mean you want to turn me?"
Spike was hesitant to admit to it, but knew that Xander wanted, and deserved, absolute honesty. "Yes, someday. Not tonight, not soon. But if we can have forever, I want it."
"Yes." Xander's eyes were crinkled up with his smile.
"Yes?" That couldn't be right. He didn't mean yes like that, he meant yes, he understood what Spike wanted, or yes, he was listening, or-
"Yes. Yes, Spike, yes, I'll marry you, yes, I'll let you Claim me, whatever it is you want, yes."
"Do you even know what Claiming involves, pet?" Spike asked sceptically.
"Yeah, Spike, I do," Xander replied with obvious impatience. "I'm not a moron; I can read. It means you bite me and drink my blood. That leaves a magical tracer in me that tells anyone who knows how to see that I'm your consort. Giles will know, if he bothers to look, and Buffy might be able to feel it if we stay around long enough. It means we're bound together, demon to soul. It means I'll be able to feel you somehow, in my head, and you can do the same. It means if you get dusted, I'll either die or go crazy. I can still get hurt, but I'll heal a lot faster with your mark on me. I'll live longer, if you don't turn me, and I'll age slower."
"Where-" Spike cleared his throat and tried again. "Where did you learn all that, pet?"
"Giles' library, where else?" Xander shrugged. "But I'm right, aren't I?"
Spike was stunned. He'd assumed that Xander was just going along with his crazy vampire lover but that he didn't really know the full ramifications of what Spike wanted.
"Xander, are you sure? You can get a divorce if your marriage goes south, but the only way out of a Claiming is death."
"YES, Spike. Oui. Da. Si. Sim. Ja. Hai. How many more languages do you want? Get it through your head-I know what you want. I know what it'll do to me. I want it anyway," Xander replied, a fair amount of exasperation mixed with firm finality.
Finally Spike believed. Maybe this time he could have what he wanted without the universe smacking him and taking it away.
---
Spike took the first shower while Xander straightened up the living area, then they switched. While Xander was in the shower Spike was busy setting up. He had been living with Xander since the first night, or morning, rather, and the first night after, they had gone back to the crypt and packed Spike's meagre possessions. Clothes, blood, a few personal things, and an old iron-bound chest, battered but lovingly cared for.They had sorted through the chest together, looking at old pictures; one of William, surrounded by a primly dressed family, one of Spike, surrounded by drunken Sex Pistols and fans, and a later one of Spike, with Dalton. They laughed at Spike's early attempts at poetry, and Xander had been amazed at the sheer number of old books carefully stacked inside, most of them filled with Spike's bold, precise handwriting. Tucked in one of the books was a breathtaking drawing of a nude, sleeping William, signed 'Angelus' in the bottom corner. There was a black lace shawl folded carefully around a teacup; even as faded as it was Xander recognized Dru's perfume wafting from it. In the very bottom was a plain wooden box. Xander had taken one look inside and promptly dubbed it Spike's 'vampire kit'.
He wasn't so far from wrong, and it was this box that Spike now got out of the trunk. After pushing the furniture back against the walls to make a clear space, he took out a piece of blue chalk tied to a string, which was in turn tied to a nail. He stuck the nail in the floor, stretched the string out and traced a perfect 9' circle. After neatly wrapping the string around the chalk and nail, he returned it to the box and got out a box of chalk. Staying out of the circle, he drew symbols around the edge of it, interspersed with words. Next, he laid out eight ivory candles. The black and gold candles were set aside. He placed the box in the circle and covered it with a length of black velvet, careful not to smudge the lines. Setting the black and gold candles on a crystal tray, put them on the box then sat back on his heels to admire his handiwork.
"Ok, now what?" Xander stood in the doorway, wearing clean black jeans and nothing else. A lone bead of water from his recent shower ran out of his hair and trickled down his neck. Spike was similarly dressed.
Spike stood up and dusted the chalk off his hands. "Now I Claim you, luv."
"How 'bout a game plan for us ordinary mortal types? I said I knew what a Claiming was, I didn't say I knew how to do it." Xander replied.
"Right. We step into the circle from opposite sides-you over there, me here. I say some stuff, you repeat after me, I bite you."
"Hooookaaay. I think that was the highlight reel when I wanted the play-by-play. What aren't you telling me?"
Spike sighed. "Pet, it's mojo. It's-"
"Never mind, enough said." Xander interrupted. "Just, promise me it will go better than Willow's attempts at using magic on me?"
Spike crossed to Xander and took him in his arms. "I'd like to, pet, but it's mojo. There are no guarantees." He kissed Xander's forehead. "I'm not even sure what exactly is supposed to happen. It's like the Adult Conspiracy in those books," he said, referring to the Piers Anthony collection in the back of Xander's closet. He'd read his way through them out of sheer boredom when he'd been tied to the chair. "Nobody will tell you, you have to find out for yourself. It'll either work or it won't, and we'll find out what 'it' is then."
They stood quietly for a few moments, just enjoying the other's nearness. Finally they stepped apart.
"Ready, luv?"
"Yes."
Spike quickly lit the small candles forming the circle and pointed to the space where Xander should stand. Shifting into gameface, he took his own place and began.
"I, William James Malcolm Boise, a vampire, also called William the Bloody, also called Spike, do enter this circle of my own free will." He stepped into the circle and waited for Xander. Part of the ceremonial requirements were that the intended consort figure things out for himself.
"I, Alexander LaVelle Harris, a human, also called Xander, enter this circle of my own free will." Carefully, Xander stepped over the chalk lines and joined Spike in the centre of the circle.
When they were standing together, Spike reached out and put his left hand over Xander's heart. Almost immediately Xander's heartbeat picked up, the steady thunder rocking through Spike.
"I will take this human as my consort. For him will I smoke outside, for I wish him to remain healthy."
There was a brief pause, then Xander spoke. "I will be consort to this vampire. I will refrain from playing Patsy Cline in his presence, for I wish him to remain sane." Xander grinned at Spike, who grinned back.
"I will take this human as my consort. His friends shall be my friends, and his enemies shall be mine, also."
Xander put his left hand on Spike's chest, over his heart, so that their positions were mirrored.
"I will be consort to this vampire. I will take his friends as my own, and his enemies as mine, too."
"I will take this human as my consort. To him have I given my heart."
"I will be consort to this vampire, for he holds my heart also."
Swallowing heavily against the tightness in his throat, Spike reached out and cupped Xander's neck in his right hand. He stroked his thumb down the side of Xander's neck, feeling the pulse that was throbbing with life.
"I will Claim this human to be my own, forever."
Again Xander mirrored Spike's pose, cradling Spike's head with his free hand. He held Spike's gaze with own, brown meeting blue, love meeting love.
"I will be Claimed by this vampire, and be his, forever." Xander tilted his head back, baring his throat in an unmistakable invitation.
Slowly, Spike lowered his head to Xander's throat. He inhaled deeply, taking in the scents of his soon-to-be consort, relieved that fear wasn't one of them. He licked a path up the corded tendon, then placed a sucking kiss where he intended to bite. Xander's hand tightened in his hair and urged him forward.
In one decisive clench, Spike bit through skin and muscle to the sweetness of life underneath. Xander gasped and dropped both hands to Spike's waist, pulling him closer. The sound of Spike swallowing was loud in the silence.
The faint moan from Xander made him pull away, licking the last drops of blood from his fangs. He realized the moan had been one of arousal and not pain, and that he too was hard.
He pulled Xander's hips tight against his own and waited until Xander met his gaze again.
"I have Claimed this human. He is mine. Forever."
"I am Claimed by this vampire. I am his. Forever."
Their mouths met in a hungry kiss as they slid to their knees. Frantic hands fought to get buttons open and zippers down but finally managed. Xander wrapped his hands around both their lengths and Spike put his hand over Xander's as he stroked. Together, they reached their completion.
As they did so, a silent explosion tore through the room, blowing out the candles around the circle. A brilliant flare caught their attention; the black and gold candles on the box were now burning with a clear blue flame.
"Huh. So *that's* what 'it' is. Guess we've been accepted, pet."
They slept in the circle, wrapped around one another, sticky, sated, and content. When they woke in the morning they discovered two things; Xander's bite had healed to a silvery scar, and the candles had melted into a puddle of black and gold, swirled together, inseparable. Forever.
---
The weekend passed quietly. Xander was still in awe of the fact that the Powers That Be, or the Universe, or *whatever*, had given blessing to their Claiming. He loved Spike wholeheartedly, but in the back of his mind had wondered if loving the evil undead could be right. Apparently the PTB or whoever thought it was, an argument he intended to make when to the Scoobies if he needed to.
On Monday after work he hitched a ride to the junkyard to get his car back. DaV'aarr told him that Spike had called, and had said that Xander was to go immediately home, no stopping at the Magic Box until he'd seen Spike. He went home.
"Hey, Spike, what's up?" he asked as he breezed in.
"Evenin', pet. Go and change your shirt; we've got an appointment with a photographer in forty-five minutes."
"Photographer?" Xander asked as he headed into the bathroom for a quick wash.
"Gotta have ID, pet, which means I need to get a picture taken."
"Okay. Um, considering that it's well after the time when any self-respecting state employee would be off, just how legit is this ID gonna be?"
"About as legit as the ID I found in the back of your knickers drawer, only better done. More so, actually, since these will be in the computers."
"Ah."
Xander returned to the living room pulling a clean shirt on. He stomped into his boots and shrugged into his jacket. "Ready?"
"Yeah." Spike handed Xander a couple folded bills, then a second, much larger stack.
"Um, did you rob a bank I should know about?" Xander asked quizzically as he flipped through the bills.
"Not exactly, pet. That," he pointed to the small stack, "is the thirty I borrowed the other night. The other is for you. Don't put it in the bank; consider it emergency travelling money."
"Um..." Xander replied, not quite sure what he wanted to ask first.
"Just humour me and take it, all right?" Spike growled.
"That wasn't what I meant. Where'd you get it?"
"The banker dropped by. DaV'aarr spread the word that Master Spike was back in the game, and they were very happy to help me access my Swiss accounts," Spike explained.
"Cool. But why give it all to me?" he asked as he flipped through the wad, noticing that the back half all had two zeroes.
"That's less than half of the smallest account, luv." Spike chuckled at Xander's expression. "It's the miracle of compound interest."
"I get that, but again, why give it to me?"
"Look. We don't know how well the Slayer is going to take your news, any of it. I need you to be safe. That's enough to get you to anywhere in the world." He passed Xander a short list. "These are people who can help you hide, or run. They all owe me, or do this for a living. If it all goes to shit here and you end up runnin', head for one of them." Xander noticed that the top name on the list was in LA. "Or we can make plans to meet somewhere, and if we don't by a certain time, then head for one of them. Either way, pet, that's your emergency stash. If you put it in the bank, you're traceable, so don't. Keep it where you can get to it in a hurry."
"Okay." Xander folded up the bulk of the cash and put it in the 'hidden' compartment of his wallet. The rest he stuffed in his front pocket. He had learned not to argue when Spike used that particular tone, because it wouldn't get him anywhere. In truth, he didn't have any objections, and he'd been worried about his cash reserves stretching to get them to wherever it was they were going.
"So, ID?"
"After you, pet."
---
On the way to meet the photographer, Xander asked the question that had been burning a hole in his brain since Spike had handed him enough cash to choke a cow, and then told him it was only a portion of what was available.
"Spike?"
"Mm?"
"How- um, I mean, what-"
"Spit it out, pet. I can hear you thinking from here," Spike chuckled.
"How much are you worth? What exactly do you mean when you say 'it's the miracle of compound interest'?"
"Let's just say that if we end up in Europe and you want to give the blackjack tables in Monte Carlo a try, I could keep you in cash long enough for you to learn to stand on a seventeen, and still afford dinner."
Xander knew that if he pushed, Spike would tell him exactly how much he had, right down to dollars and cents. He didn't need to know that, he just wanted to be sure that Spike wasn't leaving himself short.
They parked the hearse in an underground garage that Xander hadn't known was there, collected a parking slip from a person that he was pretty sure wasn't human, and walked through a set of double doors.
"Where are we?"
"The Hellmouth Mall, pet."
"The- Does Buffy know about this? Not for slayage, I mean for the shopping. I can't believe there's a mall within a two-hour drive that she hasn't been to!" Xander exclaimed.
"No, she doesn't," Spike said shortly, "and she doesn't need to know, either."
"I know that, Spike." Xander rolled his eyes at his mate. "Buffy's never quite gotten that most demons are just people, so to speak. Of course, if they'd stop trying to open the Hellmouth or take over the world, their chances of being left alone would be a lot better."
They strolled down the concourse. After looking at the displays in a few of the windows, Xander was careful to keep his eyes facing forward.
"Is it going to be a problem, me being here?" Xander asked.
"No. You said it yourself; my Claim is there for all to see who can, and everybody here can. Ah, here we are." He held the door open for Xander.
The receptionist came to greet them. "Master Spike! I'm so glad to see you. Please, come this way."
They were shown back into a small studio that looked like the few photo studios Xander had ever been in.
The photographer was a small greenish demon with a double row of horns running around the top of his head and down the back of his neck. "Master Spike," he said in greeting. "I'm ready, if you'd have a seat, please." He indicated a stool in front of a series of rolled backdrops. "May I speak to your Consort?"
"You may. His name is Xander."
"Thank you." He turned to Xander. "Please, Xander, have a seat." He waved to small area furnished with a couch and several chairs and small tables. "I can have my girl bring you a refreshment while you're waiting, if you like."
"No, I'm fine, thanks." Xander wondered exactly what kind of 'refreshment' he would have gotten had he said yes.
"So, Master Spike, how many sets of ID do you need?"
"Five. Three for me, in three different names; two for the whelp, in two different names."
"Why? I've got a perfectly good second ID."
The flashes popped softly around the room as they went off in a test series."That's not even a decent ID, pet. This is legit. It'll show up in the computers, remember? And it'll be a full set - driver's license and social security card for you, driver's license and green card for me, passports for us both."
"Master Spike, look this way, if you would please."
Spike turned to the photographer.
"That reminds me; we need to get the whelp here a primary passport in his own name."
"Certainly, Master Spike. I have all the paperwork you'll need. If my girl can speak to your Consort, she can fill out the forms while I develop the pictures."
Xander turned to the girl that appeared at his elbow and began filling out the forms. She seemed a little nervous about talking to him but relaxed after a few minutes. He couldn't decide if it was because he was human, or Master Spike's Consort.
"Hey, Spike, did you have a specific name in mind, or can I pick my own?"
"Pick one, but one has to be Aloysius Beauchamp."
"Aloysius! But-"
"Quiet, whelp. You've got no room to complain; mine is going to be Abelard. These are for extreme emergencies only, and a code. If you need to use that name, go to Angelus. He may not like it, but he will honour his blood and help."
Xander subsided and returned to finishing the necessary paperwork.
"Hold that...and again...one more...and that does it." The photographer turned to Xander and said, "We can take your photos whenever you're ready."
Xander signed the last few pages and returned them to the receptionist. He looked around for a mirror, but didn't see one. Running his hands through his hair, he hoped for the best. Both Spike and the photographer growled at the receptionist when she whipped out a comb and reached to hand it to Xander.
"Spike." Xander glared. "Overreact much?"
Spike backed off as the receptionist produced a small hand mirror and held it as Xander tamed his disordered waves. He handed the comb back to the receptionist with a quiet thank you, a smile, and a shrug that seemed to say 'we're not all jerks'.
At the photographer's direction he took his place on the stool and smiled on cue. Five minutes later, he was done.
They approved the proofs of the pictures and made arrangements to have the resulting paperwork delivered in a few days. Xander made it a point to say goodbye to the receptionist, daring Spike to say something.
On the way back to the car, he did. "Having fun, pet?"
Xander stopped and dropped a decent curtsy. "Why yes, yes I am, Master Spike. Thank you for asking," he answered in a southern-belle drawl.
Spike growled.
"Spike, lay off. Yes, I'm your Consort now. But I am not a pet, or a toy, something only you can play with. I'm a person, and an adult, and I'll speak to who I please. Get used to it."
Spike growled again.
Xander pulled Spike to a stop. "Look, you.... You've got the *weirdest* sense of possessiveness I've ever seen. All that girl was doing was handing me a comb. *Handing* me; she never touched me, never even came close. The other night at the bar, though, Zib grabbed my *balls* and all you did was hold me still so he could get a better feel! Make up your mind!"
Spike laughed. "All right, pet, you've made your point."
"Thank you," Xander replied haughtily.
Spike pulled him in for a kiss. When they broke for air, they noticed they crowd they'd drawn and laughing, turned and headed for the parking lot.
---
Xander knocked on the door. He wasn't looking forward to this conversation at all.
"Come!"
"Good morning, Mr. LaFontaine. Got a minute?"
"Mornin', Xander. And it's Jack, please. What's up? I can give you a few minutes, but I have a meeting in twenty. Have a seat." Xander sat. "Coffee?"
"No, thank you." He was nervous enough; he didn't need any chemical help, thanks.
"So, what can I do for you?"
Xander took a deep breath. "I-I... I have to put in my notice. I wanted to do it personally, and I really hate to have to do it at all, but I'm leaving town, and I didn't want to give you no notice, so..." It all came out in a rush.
"Whoa, Xander, slow down. Actually, hang on." He picked up his phone and punched a few numbers. "Nancy? Hold all my calls, please, and call Hal and reschedule for tomorrow. Yeah, something's come up. Um, bring me a fresh pot of coffee and some of those donuts I saw this morning first, please. Thank you."
They waited while Nancy bustled in, juggling the coffee, two cups, a box of donuts and a sheaf of papers. "It's your lucky day; the pot had just finished when you buzzed." She put the donuts down on the desk between the men and handed the papers to Jack with a terse "Sign these," then poured the coffee while he did so. She handed Xander a cup and pointed behind him to a small refrigerator with a box of sugar cubes sitting on top of it, then traded another cup of coffee for the now-signed papers.
"Thanks, Nan. What would I do without you?"
"Drown in a swamp of bad coffee and undone paperwork, I expect," she answered cheerfully. "Hal said tomorrow's fine. Anything else?"
"Nope, that'll do." They waited until the door clicked shut behind her. Xander gave a brief thought to caffeine- and sugar-propelled butterflies, then liberally doctored his coffee anyway.
"Now, what's this about notice and leaving town? What's going on? I hate to lose you; is it anything I can help with?" Jack had his 'talk to me' face on, but Xander heard the real concern buried in the gruff voice.
"I'm leaving Sunnydale. Soon. It's not a problem, or not yet, so there's nothing you can do to help, but thanks. If it is a problem, it'll be best solved by me leaving, and I'm doing that anyway, so..." He trailed off, not quite sure what the boss wanted to hear.
He did his best not to squirm as Jack looked him over, really looked. His eyes lingered on the edge of his t-shirt and Xander wondered if his scar was showing. Not that he thought anyone but the Scoobs would recognize it, but still, it would look funny to anyone else.
"All right, Harris, let's have it from the top."
Sighing, Xander started from the top. He edited out Buffy's Slayerness and Spike's vampireness, but left in the part about Spike being a guy, and his lover. He spoke in general terms about small towns and friends that grow apart, and specifically about friends that were likely to be anything from unhappy to vicious over his choice of partner. He talked about needing a life of his own without mentioning the life he had involving the things that went bump in the night.
The enormous relief he felt at being able to tell it all to *somebody* surprised him. As he talked, things were sorted out in his head, and he now had a better idea of just what he was going to say to the gang. When he was done, they sat in a comfortable, thoughtful silence for awhile.
"You've picked a hard row to hoe, but a man's choice is his own." Jack laughed. "Right. Need any more platitudes to go with those two?"
Xander smiled. "No, I think those two will do. You see, though, why I'm leaving. I just didn't want to do it without talking to you, since it was you who gave me this job."
"Thanks, I appreciate the thought. You're a good employee, Harris, so I'll tell you what; when you come to pick up your final check I'll make sure there's a good letter of rec in with it. I hate to lose you, but I'll do what I can to help. In fact, when you're ready to leave, whether it's this afternoon or two weeks from now, come see me, or Nancy if I'm not around. I can have your check cut for you in an hour. I'll be sure to tell her to expect you."
"Thanks." Xander stood and stretched, then shook Jack's hand. "I really appreciate it. You're a good guy to work for, and I wish I could stay, but..."
"No problem. Good luck; I hope everything works out like you want it to. Come see me when you're ready to go."
"Will do, and thanks again."
With that he left the office and headed for the mower shed. He did still have work to do, but he was in better spirits than he'd been in a while. One hurdle down, one to go. As soon as Spike had all their paperwork, he'd tell Jack he was leaving, then tell the gang the same thing. He didn't expect it to go nearly as well, but he could hope, couldn't he?
---
Xander pulled Spike's car into the alley behind the Magic Box and parked. As he walked up the alley he could clearly hear Buffy and Willow's conversation through the propped-open back door of the shop.
"I don't know, he didn't say. Just that he wanted to meet us all here."
"Has he been acting, I dunno, weird, or something, lately? He just hasn't seemed very Xanderish, and he hasn't been around much lately, either."
If only they knew the half of it, he thought to himself, it was weirder than they knew.
He took a deep breath; it was time for them to find out. The paperwork had been delivered yesterday afternoon. Spike was waiting impatiently at Willy's. The car was packed. The basement was clean, or as clean as it got, the keys stuffed in the mailbox. He knew it was the coward's way out, but he wasn't up for a confrontation with his folks *and* the gang. Xander's clunker had gone to DaV'aarr, along with the DeSoto. His final paycheck had been picked up and cashed and the bank account closed. Sunnydale had been driven around, and all of Xander's favourite places had been said goodbye to. As anxious as he was to get out of Dodge, the feeling that he might miss the place after all surprised him.
It was the people he'd miss the most, though. He and Willow had known each other for so long he couldn't remember *not* knowing her. They'd shared so much; lunches and hugs, pushes on the swing and pushes in class. He'd passed chemistry because of her, and the only playground fight he'd ever been in had been in her defence. They'd shared a few hopes and dreams, too; he remembered long summer days when they and Jesse had talked about what they wanted for themselves in the future. Then Buffy had come, and Jesse had gone. It wasn't Willow's fault that she and Xander were drifting apart; people change, life changes. Even in a place as weird as Sunnydale it was one of the constants of the universe. But of them all, Willow was also the one most likely to understand, and to forgive.
Buffy was the exasperating older sister; he loved her and hated her in equal measure, was afraid of her and afraid for her. He'd desired her, but like the dog that caught the car, he was never sure just what his reaction would have been if he'd actually gotten somewhere with his crush. He resented the changes she'd brought to his life, and admired her for doing a thankless, dangerous job with grit and tenacity. For every slight, for every unthinking cruelty, there were also occasions of unthinking kindness and uncounted generosity to balance it out. He didn't really understand her, wasn't sure she understood herself, but she became part of his world, and so he stood with her and took it all, the good, the bad, and the indifferent. He expected this announcement to be taken badly, but would settle for indifferent. Good was just too much to hope for.
Giles was an enigma. The reluctant father figure for the whole gang, he had tolerated them all when he realized they were a package deal, but he had done it for Buffy's sake, not theirs. If that tolerance ran short now and then, especially with Xander, well, it wasn't any different than what Xander had gotten from anyone else in his life. He didn't really understand Giles, either; in his opinion, Giles had given up anything resembling a life for Buffy and had gotten nothing in return except a hard time about tea and tweed. And for what? No professional accolades, no private life, and from what Xander could see, no personal satisfaction, either. Why did he stay? Xander still didn't know. He was just glad Giles had stayed-he'd been the closest thing to a real dad Xander had ever had. And with what Xander suspected about Giles and Ethan Rayne, he just might understand about Xander and Spike.
Feeling strangely calm, he pushed the door the rest of the way open and strode in. "The Xand Man is in the house." He bowed theatrically, making a leg before moving to sit on the horse.
Willow looked up from her seat on the floor, where she was reading, and giggled. "Hey, Xan."
"Hi, Xander." Buffy unwound the tape from her hands and came to lean beside him. Judging from the tape and the swinging heavy bag, Buffy had been working out. Judging from the lack of sweat, not for very long, or not very hard. Xander smiled to himself; even Slayers got the slow-night lazies.
"Ah, yes, Xander. Good evening," Giles said distractedly from the doorway to the shop itself. He had a book in his hand and was leafing through the pages.
"Evening, all. No research party?"
Buffy gave him a look. "Nope, a waiting for Xander party. What's up?"
"Ah..." His sudden attack of nerves dissipated just as fast as it had hit him. "Um, can I borrow this?" He reached out to Buffy's cross, hanging on its slender chain.
"Sure." It was such a part of her that, in an odd way, she looked naked when she took it off. Her eyes were brimming with questions, but she handed it to him without asking any of them.
He wrapped the delicate chain around his fist, the tiny cross resting on his callused palm. He held it out for them all to see.
"Xander? What- What are you saying?" Giles' look flicked between the cross and Xander's face. He closed the book, absently keeping his place with a finger.
"Are you in trouble?" asked Willow, giving him big worried-Willow eyes.
Gently, he folded the cross into his hand and began unbuttoning his shirt. When he had enough buttons open he pushed the collar aside, exposing his Claiming scar, then held out his hand, open again, with the cross still sitting in it.
"I'm with Spike now. We're leaving tonight-I came to say goodbye."
The silence was deafening. Willow was the first to break it.
"Forever? I mean, are you leaving us forever, or is this like a honeymoon kind of leaving?" She got up and came to stand in front of Xander, putting one hand on his arm.
Buffy looked shocked and said nothing, but her hands were shaking as she accepted the cross that Xander handed back to her and examined his unmarked palm.
Xander turned back to Willow. He reached out and stroked one finger down her red hair, then lightly flicked the end of her nose, making her smile.
"Not forever, Wills, but probably a long time. Can you understand?"
Willow put one hand over his heart as she studied his face. They could have been the only two in the room for all the attention they were paying to the others. Slowly she slid her hand up to cover the silver scar.
"Does he love you?"
"Yes."
"Then that's all I ask. Well, no, I want to know when this happened, and how, and where you're going, and when you'll be back, and since when do you go for guys?" She smiled at him; a little wobbly, but real. "But all I *want* is for you to be happy, and if he makes you happy, then I'm happy for you."
Buffy was drop-jawed with astonishment. She recovered fast and yelled, "Willow, what are you saying? He let the Bleached Menace *bite* him, on the neck! I'm gonna ignore the icky sex stuff and ask just how was he able to bite you?" Whirling, she stalked away and took a few swings at the heavy bag at the far end of the room. Xander hoped she was calmer as she came back. "Well?" she demanded.
Making sure he was between Buffy and the door, he told them the rest. "I helped him get his chip out."
"I'll dust him. I'll go stake him right now." Buffy picked up a stake from the top of her pile of things. "I'll deal with *you* later."
"Buffy." Xander intercepted her as she made for the door. "He Claimed me. If you kill him, I will die." The stark certainty in his voice made her pause.
"Xander, what have you done?"
At Giles' distinctly alarmed tone, Buffy put her stake down and waited for an answer.
"Giles, look at me. No, I mean *LOOK*." Xander stood quietly as Giles glared at him in frustration then got the expression that Xander had always equated with 'shh, Giles is doing magic'.
Giles muttered to himself for a bit then said, "Oh, my God. He Claimed you."
"I said that."
"He *Claimed* you, and you *let* him. How could you?" Giles demanded. He apparently didn't notice when his book hit the floor as he waved his arms around for emphasis.
Xander paced. "I didn't 'let' him. I wanted him to, and he did-*we* did. End of story. If you know anything at all about a Claim, you know it *had* to be of my own free will." He returned to the horse and perched on the end, keeping an eye on Buffy, who had put down her stake. He didn't *think* she'd go after Spike now, but better safe than sorry.
Her voice aching with betrayal and hurt she asked, "But Xander, why?"
Xander winced at the quiet question, but turned to face her.
"Because he loves me. *Me*, the Zeppo. He needs me and I- well, I need to be needed. I need him. And I love him."
"But we need you too."
"No, Buffy, you don't. You never have." He back-pedalled a bit at her frown. "Well, ok, not never, but you've never needed me very much. No Slayery strength here, no witchy powers, no yen for research. You needed me for a little comic relief, to get the donuts, and to distract the demon of the week so you could kill it."
"That's not true, Xan, but you-" she began but Willow hastily interrupted her.
"How did you zap his chip, Xan? You've never been geeky, like me."
"I'd be interested to hear that, too, Xander," added Giles. "Such information would be invaluable to the Council."
"Which is exactly why I'm not going to tell you." He ignored Giles' affronted expression and continued, "As soon as someone finds a work-around for something, a new unwork-aroundable model comes out. I'm not doing that. I helped Spike with his chip because what the Initiative did was *wrong*. It would have been cleaner to just kill him than to cripple him like that. And before you ask, yes, the news is out on the demon grapevine the Master Spike is back in business, and that the chips are fixable. There are only a few left who still have the chips-Spike wasn't the only one-and those few are probably making arrangements to have the same thing done that Spike did. Don't worry, the price for having it done is leaving town. DaV'aarr will see that they go, not that any are objecting. Most just want to go home." He didn't say that most of them had already done it and gone.
He'd thought Spike was the only one with a chip left alive, but as Spike had pointed out, he was 'Hostile 17' for a reason. It had been the Tuesday after Operation Zap-the-Chip when Zib had come to Xander at work again and asked them both to go to DaV'aarr's that same night. Word had gone out that Master Spike was back, and DaV'aarr had already had several requests for the same procedure. He wanted Master Spike's permission. Spike had readily agreed, but it was Xander's condition that the newly zapped leave the Hellmouth. Zib had been to see Xander at work nearly every day in the last week and a half, delivering thank yous from various demons, and assurances that they were either planning on leaving town or had already left.
Snidely, Buffy said, "I thought you were on our side, Xander."
"I'm entitled to have my own opinions, and to act on them. I don't always have to agree with you, or think the way you think. This isn't 'if I'm not with you I'm against you,'" returned Xander heatedly.
"Sure seems like it to me." Buffy pointedly turned her back and started rewrapping her hands.
"Buffy, don't be like that," said Willow.
"Be like what?" said Buffy over her shoulder. "Be like Xander, who's turning his back on his friends, turning his back on what we do?"
Now he was pissed. He shook off Willow's restraining hand, stalked over to Buffy and jerked her around to face him. He kept his voice down with effort. "There is no 'we', Buffy. There's you. *You're* the Slayer, not me. It's *your* calling, not mine. I gave you years of my life, Buffy, and I was happy to. We made a difference. But now it's time to live *my* life. Mine, not yours. And yes, I intend to live that life with Spike, whether you like it or not."
Buffy balled her fists at her sides and asked, "What about Angel? What about all those nasty things you said about him, about me and him? How is that different than you and Spike?"
"How can you even compare?" Xander asked incredulously. "Angelus tried to suck the world into hell! He tried to kill Giles, and he did kill Ms. Calendar!" He shot an apologetic look at Giles but kept going. "And you took him back anyway, just like none of it had ever happened. Just because he's sorry now doesn't make it better. If he's so innocent, how come he has to make up for the things his demon did? Yeah, Spike's tried to kill us, but he never tried as hard as Angelus did, or came as close. And he won't try again, anyway."
"How can you be so sure?"
"Because he promised me he wouldn't."
"And you believed him."
"Yes."
"Aargh!" Buffy shouted with frustration. Xander watched in wary fascination as she closed her eyes and visibly counted to ten-twice. "That's just- Giles, you talk to him. Make him see sense!" Buffy stomped to the heavy bag and began to hit it, short vicious jabs mixed with the occasional roundhouse kick.
Giles, looking startled at the order, approached Xander diffidently. "Ah, em, Xander, are you quite certain this is the path you wish to take? As the bond is still new, the Claim can be rescinded with minimal damage to you." Xander noticed that he said nothing about damage to Spike. "I, of all people, can understand the seduction of the Dark."
"Ha! I always knew you and Rayne had a kinky thing going." He ignored Giles' blush and continued, "But no, I don't want to rescind the Claim. How many times am I going to have to say it; I *wanted* him to. You, of all people," he mimicked, "should be able to see the Claim for what it is, and what it means. Is it honestly *that* hard to understand?"
"I- no. No, it's not." Giles sighed deeply, then looked resolute. "And if the Claim took, then you both are sincere in your feelings for one another. I suppose I should offer you my congratulations but... Spike?"
"Giles! You were supposed to talk him out of it, not congratulate him!" shouted Buffy from the other end of the room.
Xander ignored her. "Yes, Spike." He could feel the goofy smile spreading across his face at the thought of his lover.
"Buffy, you may as well give it up," said Willow, entering the conversation. "Anybody with that silly look isn't going to change his mind."
"But-"
"Buffy." He turned to face her. She was no longer pummelling the heavy bag, but was standing there, her shoulders set stubbornly. He felt bad that she was taking it so hard, but he was also losing patience. "Get over it already, would you? It's a done deal. You don't have to like it, but I'm asking you to accept it." Xander gave her his best smile and his biggest puppy eyes. "And maybe, be a little happy for me? He *loves* me, and nobody ever has before, not like this. And I love him."
Buffy came back to their small group and stared at him. He could see her trying to hang on to her anger, and could just as easily see it melting away. The stern line in the middle of her forehead smoothed out and her mouth softened.
"Even if I say I'm happy for you, you're going to leave anyway?" she asked.
"Yeah. He can't stay, he'd have to be the Master of the Hellmouth, and you know what a fight that'd be. He doesn't want it. And me..." He sighed. "I just want to be normal. Well, as normal as I can be with a gay vampire lover. I want to have a nine-to-five job, I want to bitch about my boss, and I want the most evil thing in my world to be the clerk who can't figure out my overtime right. I don't want to worry about what the latest nasty is planning, or whether the world is ending next Tuesday or not. We'll come back, someday, but we are leaving. Tonight," he added.
Quietly, stubbornly, she said, "I still don't like it," then added, "but you've been a good friend, and I'll miss you." She grabbed him in a bone-crunching hug.
"Oof! Ordinary human here!" came his strangled protest. When she'd eased her grip he hugged her back, hard.
"Thanks. I'm gonna miss you, too." Reluctantly, they let go.
He turned to Giles, feeling awkward. How was he going to tell Giles how much he'd meant? Xander had lived on the Hellmouth his whole life-he knew enough to say something when he had the chance, if he had something to say.
"Giles... I-thank you." At Giles' raised eyebrow he rushed on. "You didn't have to, but you did anyway, and don't think I don't appreciate what you did-" he babbled.
"What did I do, Xander?"
Xander stopped and took a deep breath. You're a grown-up, he told himself, you can act like one and say this without babbling any more.
"You were my dad. Even though you didn't really want to be, you were, and you were the best dad I had, and I'll miss you."
Giles was silent for a moment, then he took off his glasses and wiped his eyes. He put his glasses back on and cleared his throat. "I- I'm honoured that you would think of me that way." He pulled into Xander into a tight hug, then released him enough to grab his shoulders. "Good fortune go with you. You always have a home here, you know that." He kissed Xander on the forehead, then hugged him again.
"Hey, I better get a hug, too, mister!"
Giles sniffed quietly as Xander let him go. Willow immediately enveloped him in a fierce hug.
"Willow..." he said into her hair. When would he smell that again, that distinct bergamot that had meant 'Willow' to him since forever? When had he gotten so much taller than she? Wasn't it just last week that they'd taken turns pushing each other on the swing in Jesse's back yard?
"I know. You don't need to say it, I *know* you. You'll always be my Xander. Just, be happy, ok? Give Spike the shovel talk for me. And don't try to disappear; I'm computer girl, remember? If I have to track you down, I'll use the shovel on you, too." She laughed a little, then broke down. Xander held her as she cried, slowly stroking her back. He was a little teary himself by the time she wiped her face and looked up. "Be safe, Xander, and don't forget me."
He tugged on a lock of red hair, then smoothed it away from her face.
"Never."
There was an awkward silence for a few minutes as both Willow and Giles made use of the Kleenex that Buffy silently handed them, then Xander said, "Well, looks like this is it." He backed across the room to the door, then turned to go through.
"Wait!" said Buffy, "We'll walk you to your car."
---
Spike watched from the doorway of Willy's as Xander pulled away, grinning as he barked the tires in the first three gears. Turning, he made his way through the door to the bar, where Willy's newest bartender acknowledged him with a wave.
He chose the booth in the farthest corner. From there, he could keep an eye on the room and the front door, but he could also reach the back room, the back door, and the tunnel trap door. Just because Xander was sure he could talk his friends out of any 'vampicidal rages', as he'd put it, didn't mean Spike was going to take any chances. He hadn't gotten as far as he had by taking stupid chances, and he wasn't going to start now.
A beer in front of him, he went through his mental checklist. He patted his coat pocket-license, green card, and passport for him-check. He'd seen Xander put his own duplicates in the pocket of his suitcase. For his primary set he had gone with his real name, figuring no one would connect it with the street urchin he'd been more than a hundred years ago. Besides, if that MacLeod guy could on that Highlander show Xander was so fond of could keep his own name for four hundred years, surely he could go back to his own name after a hundred with no one the wiser. He'd still be 'Spike', but legally he was once again William James Malcolm Boise.
Cash-check. Some in his coat pocket, the rest in his pants pocket, a lot with Xander. No one had tried to pick his pocket in years--and the last one had been too hopped up on horse to eat--but old habits died hard, and he always split his cash if he was carrying a lot.
Also his bank papers, neatly folded away in the new suitcase hidden in the recess under the casket in the back of the car. He didn't, strictly speaking, need them--the numbers were firmly in his head--but if something were to happen to him, Xander would need them.
He pushed his beer to the far side of the table and spread out the map he'd stolen from the gas station, wondering where they would go. Xander had enthusiastically lobbied for a real road trip, like the one he'd tried to make after high school.
It was a thought worth considering. They could go to the Haight in San Francisco. They could go to the French Quarter in New Orleans-they'd fit right in. Or Chicago, or Kansas, or better yet, Beale Street in Memphis to the blues bars; if the whelp liked Patsy Cline, he should hear some of the blues greats. And in return for putting up with musically inclined broodiness, they could go to New York City and see if CBGB's was still the dive it had always been. Maybe drop in on a few old mates, or ride the subway and scare the muggers. After seeing Risky Business, Xander had confessed to wanting to re-enact the train scene. A subway would work just as well, in Spike's opinion, and he had no qualms about sex in public places. And they definitely had to go to Hershey. Spike put that last on his mental list, since getting Xander out of Chocolate Central was likely to be a job and a half.
Not to mention, random wandering would make them that much harder to track down. His poof of a Sire was going to be none too happy that he was unchipped and roaming the world at large, to say nothing of the Do-Good Gang that Xander was currently saying goodbye to.
Hm. Come to think, they *could* roam the world at large. There was no need to restrict themselves to the States. London had the Tube; maybe that would do for a train? Or maybe he should see in how many different cities they could find a train of some sort to shag on. He could show Xander around London, see how his boyhood neighbourhood had changed over the years.
Where else could they go? France was out-too prissy about fashion, not enough respect for timeless looks. And he hated snails. Italy was out-too much garlic. Germany, maybe--good beer--but Central Europe was out; too many bad memories. It was too late this year, but maybe next year they could make it to Carnivale. He knew he'd said nowhere in South America, but since he'd made the rule, he could make the exceptions, too.
And Hong Kong...they could get lost in Hong Kong for a long time. The Night Market alone could keep them occupied for a month. There was a lot more to it than the tour guides ever mentioned-you just had to know how, and who, to ask.
He smiled to himself. Xander would no doubt laugh, and then enthusiastically go along, but ever since he had read the Just So stories to Dru, Spike had always wanted to ride an elephant. Thailand, then, and while they were there, they could do the Floating Market in Bangkok as well. And Flower Street-that ought to give Xander 'I've seen it all and killed most of it' Harris something to think about, he thought evilly. Dru had loved the 'boys who were girls'. Not that he had objected, either. He often wondered if the Kinks had been to Flower Street before they wrote Lola.
The sudden feeling of responsibility surprised him. He was Master to Xander's Consort, and that did come with responsibilities he hadn't considered before now. Traditionally, he was to provide his Consort with an education, but Xander had no interest in college. If they did the Grand Tour, something he'd always dreamed of doing as a boy, would that count?
Spike decided it would. Xander had seen a lot, but it was all here on the Hellmouth. He hadn't seen any of the world at all, or even much of his own country. Now that Spike was in position to do so, he was going to see that Xander learned about as much of the world as he was interested in. They didn't have to go now, of course. They could do Xander's road trip, then settle in somewhere and travel from there whenever the urge struck.
And they'd be even harder to find if they were out of the country.
A cleared throat made him look up from his perusal of the map.
"Ah, gentlemen. Right on time," he said with a smile.
"Our Master sends you his greetings. And respectful greetings to your Consort, as well."
"Thank you. Have a seat."
The two Thark'un sat across from him and Spike studied them as they waited for fresh beers to be brought to the table. Thark'un looked pretty human, if on the Neanderthal end of the evolutionary scale. They were noted for their clannishness, and the loyalty of those clans to their Master.
The last demon to be dechipped had been the local Thark'un Clan Master's youngest son. The Master had been prepared to move his entire clan away from Sunnydale, with his son, but Spike had asked him to stay, instead. The Thark'un Master was the one demon most likely to maintain some sort of control in the area, and keep the truly nasty from gaining access to the Hellmouth. Spike didn't want the job, but didn't especially want to leave the Hellmouth unguarded, either. Just because he wanted to see Buffy taken down a peg or six didn't mean he wanted the world sucked into hell. With some convincing, Xander had agreed, although leaving a demon in charge went against his grain.
The Thark'un Master was pleased to be asked to stay, and he was willing to take on the task of keeping the Hellmouth guarded. In gratitude for Spike's help with his son, he had promised Spike a favour of his naming. These two were it.
"Right," said Spike after the beers had been delivered, "what are your names?"
The one on the left replied, "You may call me Og. He will answer to Ukla." Spike kept his amusement from showing. He wasn't sure if those were their real names, or an in-joke as a comment on their appearance.
"Right," he said again. "Did your Master tell you what I wanted?"
"No, only that we were to remain at your disposal until you said otherwise," replied Og.
Some Thark'un were also timesteppers; they had the ability to step forward in time, commit actions and step back to the present. When that 'forward in time' moment came, those actions would remain committed. Their unique services were available to the highest bidder.
"I want to go somewhere, kill someone, and return here, no one the wiser." May as well be blunt about it, although he didn't think they'd have a problem with his agenda.
"Is this location distant from here?" Og asked.
"No, it's just across town."
"Easily accomplished." said Og. Apparently Ukla didn't have much to say.
"Let's go, then."
They rose from the table and stepped into the back room. Og quickly sketched an infinity sign on the floor while Ukla removed a bottle from his coat pocket. They directed Spike to stand in the middle of the sign, and each stood in an end.
"When you are ready, say so. I will pour the potion," said Ukla, who apparently had something to say after all. "You must direct us by providing a date and time. Hold the location in your mind and state the date and time clearly."
Spike was nervous--he always was around mojo--but this was obviously old hat for the two demons.
"Inside or outside?" he asked.
"Whichever you can picture most clearly."
Spike closed his eyes and concentrated, picturing the Basement of Doom; the grubby floor, the ratty furniture, the basement smell that Xander could never get rid of, the sounds of the furnace and the pipes from the utility closet.
"Right. Let's go."
Ukla began chanting, removed the stopper from the bottle and poured out purple fog in a diaphanous stream . It pooled around their knees, heaving and surging. Spike swallowed heavily--he *really* didn't like magic--but held the picture of the basement firmly in his mind.
"Speak the date now," Og said over Ukla's chanting.
"March 17th, 2001, 11:00 pm."
The purple fog turned silver, then back to purple, and they were in Xander's basement. Spike could hear the heavy, drunken footsteps of Xander's father moving around upstairs. Ukla tipped the bottle over the fog and it obligingly poured itself up, back into the bottle.
"Do you require our further assistance?"
"If I do, I'll give a yell."
"We'll wait here, then. You have six hours to complete your task and return to Willy's in one hour's time."
"Why- Never mind. Time travel makes my head hurt." Spike grinned wolfishly. "I don't think it'll take the full six hours, but I'll keep that in mind." He didn't need to know how it worked, just that it did.
He shifted into gameface and eased quietly up the stairs. He had work to do, and a schedule to keep-he had to meet Xander in two hours.
---
Spike was back in the back booth at Willy's when he heard the distinctive muted roar of his car in the parking lot. A few minutes later, Xander breezed through the doorway.
Og and Ukla rose from the table. "Our most respectful greetings, William's Consort," they said together.
"Hey, guys. Spike." Xander slid into the seat they had vacated.
They turned to Spike and Og said, "If there comes a time when we may provide you with our services, you have only to ask."
"I'll keep that in mind. Give my thanks to your Master."
The Thark'un bowed and left.
"You ok, pet?" asked Spike. "How'd it go?"
"Ok. Well," he answered Spike's look, "It was loud, but ok in the end. Willow wants to know if this is a honeymoon, and said to mention the shovel talk to you. Buffy doesn't like it, but will go along. Giles thinks I'm nuts, but wished me good fortune. Did you know he and Rayne had a thing?"
"No, but I'm not surprised." And he wasn't, really; something about dear old Rupert had always made him wonder.
He wasn't fond of the white hats, but Xander was, and for his sake, he was glad it had gone well. And it had; he could tell from Xander's mood that he wasn't leaving in anger. He smelled of tears, perfume and cologne, but not anger, and only mildly of sadness. Spike didn't think any of the tears had been Xander's.
"So, you ready to go?"
"Yeah. Yeah, I think I am." Xander stood decisively. "Let's blow this popsicle stand."
"I'm with you, pet." Spike followed Xander out the door.
It took three rounds of Rock, Paper, Scissors to decide who got the first shift driving. Spike ran over the Welcome to Sunnydale sign on the way out of town.