Sore - A Love Story
By Xanpet
Chapter One
"Oh my God!" Xander thought, as Spike drove his cock ever harder into his depths. "Don't stop, don't ever stop!" It was exquisite. Spike grasped Xander's dick and pulled in time with his thrusts, pushing Xander's head down into the pillow and raising his ass to an even more acute angle. This was bliss and Xander thought he was going to explode. The head of Spike's cock struck his prostate incessantly, setting off percussion grenades in the pit of his stomach. He grunted his pleasure through gritted teeth. "Soon," He thought, "So soon, please don't stop!"
Spike could hear the roaring of his lover's blood, pounding beneath his skin, crashing in waves of ecstasy and making the beast within howl with hunger. He strove to press his cock ever higher inside the young man, ploughing his strong fingers up Xander's back to make him arch and present, "Yes. Yes. Yes. Come for me Xander." He moaned, smelling the chorus of changes in Xander's sweat, that told him climax wasn't far away, "Do it. Do it. Yesssss!"
Each came, crying the name of the other and collapsed in a sweaty heap, spent and sore.
Spike was the first to move. He groped in the twilight of his crypt for the old broken chair that served as a nightstand, in order to find his cigarettes and lighter. Clichéd he knew but what the fuck? He took a long drag.
Xander rolled onto his back and watched his vampire, wrapped in that warm fuzzy afterglow that only came with a good hard fuck. He clenched his buttocks and savoured the reminders of what had just been. "Oh God, I need a shower." He said out loud.
"Yeah, no point in scurrying off to the trouble stinking of vamp jisim."
Xander sighed and swung himself out of bed, "Don't start Spike. I will tell her." He began to look for items of clothing scattered in their haste and lust. This had been an on going argument and he knew Spike wasn't going to let it drop. For evil undead, he had a strangely moral take on Xander's behaviour.
"Before or after the wedding?" Spike took another toke on his cigarette and flicked the ash carelessly onto the floor. Xander just looked at him for a moment before continuing to get dressed. "Oh look, I don't care, but I'm NOT going to be a sudden collapse on the site or a bricklayers guild meeting in Ohio, get it? I've never been anybody's bit on the side."
Xander didn't look up from tying his laces. If Spike wanted to finish sex with a fight he'd give him one, "And Buffy...?"
"Will write it on your lawn in cress or etch it into your car bonnet with battery acid the moment I open me trap. I suggest the little lady hears it from you, rather than any 'you've been dumped-a-gram' the Slayer might wish to send her."
"So I'll tell her, but now I really have to go," He kissed the vampire quickly on the mouth, scooped up his jacket and headed for the door, "I'll see you later maybe? You got to bring that translating over for Willow, right?"
"Yeah. Yeah. Yeah." Said Spike dismissively. Who was he kidding; if he were any more of a 'bit on the side', he'd have to change his title to Parsley the Bloody!
After Xander left, Spike drifted back to sleep. A loud ringing tone woke him with such a shock he actually tumbled from the bed. "Okay, where are you, you little fucker? Let me find you so's I can throw you at the wall!" He muttered to himself, searching madly for the phone.
"WHAT!?" He barked into the receiver.
"Do you always answer your phone that civilly?" Polite English tones barely masked the distaste in the voice.
"No. I find 'fuck off and die' has the desired effect. What the bloody 'ell d'you want, Bookman?"
"I need you to do me a favour." There was a pause, at least on the UK side of the Atlantic, "Okay, you can stop laughing now."
"Oh I don't think so, Watcher. That was priceless. It must be the way you tell 'em."
"Strangely enough I said much the same to Angel. This would be in your interest."
"My interest, as in 'on my current account'?" But there was urgency in the voice, an edge that caught Spike's attention. He wasn't stupid. He knew when to listen and take note and he knew fear. However well masked, Giles was frightened else he would have phoned the others. Hell, he'd have phoned any of the others if he'd had any choice at all.
"Willow did something very wrong. She broke the rules, Spike, and something noticed. The committee within The Council that track supernatural occurrences have seen a shift in the cosmos. It's tiny but it's there and getting bigger. They believe that the magic she called on caused a minute tear in the fabric of the dimensions, not surprising really as Glory must have weakened it. That's what she pulled Buffy through and then used more of the universe to recreate Buffy."
Spike resisted the temptation to say 'so'. He dreaded where this was leading. He knew Buffy hadn't come back right. Just a little less human, just a tad less soul, and each event was unique. There was no possible way to recreate the exact moment of her passing; even supposing any of them could bear to lose her again. Besides what they were sending back wouldn't be the same, no guarantees in this world or the next, she could end up in hell. No, what was done was done and the consequences would just have to be lived with.
He gave up resisting.
"So?"
Giles really didn't have time for this, but what he needed was too important to allow Spike's belligerence to hinder him. Maybe a little more explanation, "In the beginning there was darkness, a vast black hole and in it dwelt The First. Around the edges of the hole matter formed and eventually the gravity was too great and The First tore itself in two, the big bang if you please and darkness was separated from light, but not completely. Matter, energy, good and evil balance within the universe, held together by invisible threads. Willow called on the power of The First but she didn't ask which side of the divide Buffy was on or which side answered her call."
"So the dark side of the force clocked 'er?"
"And used her to gain a little more independence and power. She broke some of those threads. But there is more. Unfortunately, a rather powerful necromancer was plotting to complete the separation. The Council had sealed him in his realm, but the tear has loosened the spells and now it appears he is at least active, if not out. He must not get free. It will tear the fabric of the universe apart."
"Fuck me! Not another end of the world? There'll be one per pub soon!"
Giles ignored him, "I need you to collect something from the shop and bring it to England. It has to be you. The living cannot face the necromancer and I need you to bring Xander, he is the only member of the team unknown to The First."
"Here little lackey boy, come follow Uncle Spike to Blighty. Yeah I really think that will work!!"
"Just do it!! You will be rewarded."
"I'll think about it."
Spike pressed off. He didn't know how to end a call any other way. He sat, naked on his bed and thought. If nothing else, the cost of the phone call alone made this important. Shit, money screamed as it went through the Watcher's fingers! But England, that meant The Council and an awful lot of past. He sighed. It was nearly sundown so he got dressed, scooped some papers into a plastic carrier and headed for the Magic Box.
Crossing the side turning before the shop, he could feel her presence, shortly before he found himself pinned by Slayer strength against the wall just inside the alleyway.
"Who were you talking to?" She snarled.
"In the last hundred years or are we going to be more specific?"
"This evening. Your phone was engaged, then it was off. It's never engaged. You have no one to talk to. So who were you talking to?"
Her hostility made him angry. Why did she have to be like this? Why couldn't he have had the romantic interludes with soft camera angles and passionate love theme? What did he have? Violent sexual clashes with aggressive cuts and loud crescendos. In that instant, he made up his mind.
"I was talking to your old man. I'm leaving."
Buffy didn't know who was restraining whom any more. Her left hand still grasped the neck of his tee but her right found itself in his hair. His arms were about her waist forming an iron girdle from which there was no escape.
"You can't. I won't let you. You're a dangerous vampire, you can't just go wandering the planet."
"Oh, remembered that have we, that I'm an unsouled, psychopathic killer? Then remember this, I can go wherever the bloody 'ell I like, I am not your caged fuck toy."
Why did this hurt so much when he'd been planning this speech for months? He'd loved Buffy but all they did was fuck and fight. It hadn't seemed strange at the time; all his relationships had been much the same, but then came Xander. Shouting had changed to laughter and somewhere sex had become making love. He wasn't sure where this thing with Xander was going, if anywhere, but he was sure that the Slayer was not the answer to his clawing loneliness and craving to be loved. She couldn't love him. He wasn't a thing to be loved and he had gotten as much of her as he was ever going to. It was not enough.
Buffy wondered why she was so angry. So, she hadn't been able to speak to him. So what?! She never wanted to speak to him and she wasn't even sure why she'd phoned at all, when gate crashing his crypt had been her modus operandi to date. She would never love Spike, The Slayer Killer; he was a soulless demon, a vampire. He hunted the race she'd been born to protect, her race. He would never mean anything to her. He wasn't Angel. Oh, he could turn her on, rub her up the right way and make her ache with her need for him, but that wasn't love. It had a dirty, sordid aftertaste that was wearing her down. Yes, going was a good thing.
She lifted herself up on her toes and he bent his head for the kiss. "Yeah, this is different," She thought, "So I get it, he's leaving. And I gotta let him go."
The kiss was probably the sweetest they had ever shared, made all the more poignant by the knowledge that it would be their last.
"When will you leave?" She asked.
"Tonight. I have to tell the others and collect something from the shop and then I'm off."
"Will you come back?"
"That depends."
"On me?"
He laughed, "Still all about you, Slayer? No, it doesn't depend on you, it depends on whether or not I survive."
Chapter TwoThey entered the magic shop together, but immediately Spike was descended upon. Since Giles had left, his linguistic skills had become much in demand. "Did you finish that text?" Willow asked, anxiously. She looked unwell, hollow eyed and pale. He knew it was hard for her. Withdrawal from anything always was. But she was taking each day as it came; the good with the bad, and collecting spells was like methadone therapy for her.
He threw her the bag. She smiled weakly and handed him a cooler in return. She had connections at the blood bank that came in handy for paying the vampire. He placed the cooler on the floor and sat next to Dawn. "Nah, it don't say that, Luv." He said, looking over her shoulder at the piece of Chaucer's Knight she was translating. "What you 'ave to remember about Chaucer is, it actually is written in English."
"It's not any English I know."
"It isn't any from of English 'that' I know." He corrected.
"Hey, that's a real big rock to be throwing in this glass house, Buster."
But he retorted immediately, "Excuse me, but that stone is far too large to be thrown inside, as this building is made of glass."
Dawn didn't reply verbally, she just thumped him. He took the pencil and began to make notes on the text. "How do you do that?" She asked.
"It's dirt simple really. Work from what you already know."
For a time it was quiet and comfortable. This had been his niche in the group for a while now, and he began to wonder if it was worth leaving. He could always tell the ex Watcher to stick his job. Of course, the world might end and bang would go his cosy existence anyway. And there was the Slayer. What they did had been fun, but it was time to move on.
As if on cue, Xander entered the shop. Showered and changed, only Spike could smell his scent markers all over the lad. "Mine." He thought.
Anya squealed and swept the bridal magazines under the counter in an exaggerated display of supposed secrecy. "Honey, its very bad luck to see the dress before the day. Will you please be more careful about when you choose to enter?"
"Yeah, I'll just wave the white flag through the door." Xander didn't sound happy.
"That would be quite acceptable or maybe you could whistle an appropriate warning."
"Or maybe 'e could just phone!!" Spike had had enough. If he didn't need to get out of here, Xander certainly did. That relationship looked about as healthy as any or all of his. Everyone who was going to be there was. Tara never came by any more, even to see Dawn. It was time.
"I'm leaving." He said, suddenly.
"You just got here!" Exclaimed Dawn.
"Not the shop, the country. Giles needs me in England. I'm going home."
"Oh sure, he needs you." Buffy scoffed. "Ever thought it might be a trap by The Council. On the other hand, go."
"I don't need your permission, Slayer." Their eyes locked over the circular table. He held her gaze firmly and arched a brow. She looked away.
Spike told them about the phone call from Giles. "There's a box in the cellar I need to get."
"Absolutely not. You can't just take stock. That's shoplifting. It's a felony and I always prosecute." Said Anya, defiantly.
"It's not on the inventory. And why am I arguing about this? Oh, Spike's about to be a naughty boy and steal something. Tell it to the marines or charge it to the Council but only the dead can touch it, so stop me." And he stormed off to the cellar. He retrieved the item from where Giles had had it hidden. He wondered by whom, if only the dead could touch it, but decided he'd rather not know. Having checked on the contents, he closed the box and brought it upstairs.
"What's in it?" Asked Willow, drawn immediately by the power emanating from the small, narrow, lead box. She approached it and stopped. It was as though she'd just swallowed a thousand angry wasps. She grasped at her throat and backed away fast.
"That's evil," She gasped in a horse whisper. "Giles had that thing here?"
"What is it?" Buffy asked.
"A wand. Going to duel with The First. Ultimate Evil an' all that. Might even find redemption. No, wait, not looking for it."
"You can't." Said Buffy.
"Be redeemed? I bloody well hope not."
"Duel The First! Angel was driven mad by it. It had him standing waiting for the sun." She suddenly stopped. He hadn't beaten it and nor had she. She had been reduced to pleading and crying, begging the creature she loved to come inside. And then it had snowed. Ultimate Good had taken pity on them and intervened. She often liked to think that it was her love that had saved him, because she had been willing to love him unconditionally, even knowing what he was. Spike was no better than Angelus and would not be saved by true love. He was going to his destruction.
"Are you going to fight this thing alone?" Asked Dawn.
"Am I bollocks!! Xander, Giles said I'm to bring you. You're apparently the only virgin amongst us when it comes to evil."
"That sentence is multi-level disturbing. So not going, Fangless."
He looked to Anya for support but she replied, "Oh, I think it's a great idea, Darling. You can take this invoice to The Council; I'll include your labour and Spike's, and a penalty clause in case you're killed. Not that I want you killed, but better to have all bases covered."
"Ahn, Hon, can we talk?"
"Yes and frequently do." She smiled, "Don't worry about the getting killed part, I have a comprehensive insurance policy and am fully covered in case of death of a loved one. It's the American thing to do."
"That too is multi level disturbing."
Spike put the box into a holdall and slung it on his back. Picking up his cooler, he said, "I'll meet you down by the railway station. There's a goods train due here at ten. If you're not on it, I go alone." And he was out the door.
He sat on a bench at the deserted station and waited. The box was now wrapped in several layers of blanket to try to insulate the dark magic within, and protect the lives it might touch on its journey. Not that he cared much, but might it leave a rather obvious trail of death.
He didn't expect any of the others to show. They tolerated him for the most part and his going would make the lives' of Buffy and Xander so much easier. One was passion and pain, the other immaturity and indecision. He could survive without either. He could. Survive.
He almost didn't hear the sound of voices coming along the platform. But there they all were. All his...friends.
"Sorry, Spike," Dawn said, "We kinda had to phone Giles, you know, not that we didn't trust you but..."
"You didn't trust me." He sighed.
"It's all my fault," Willow looked as if she was about to cry, "And I know I've been saying that a lot recently. Kind 'o' repeato gal, but it's true. So I got special permission from the others to make you this." Willow held out a small cloth. It had a charm woven into the fabric. "Wrap the box in that and it will protect the living from the effects."
Spike nodded.
Xander held up his roll bag, "I'm coming," He said. He was very glad that it was dark 'cos he was sure the blush went right to the roots of his hair. He'd tried to tell Anya, he really had but she didn't seem to be hearing him. Spike wasn't so scary, she'd said thinking he was trying to avoid the vampire, and Xander could keep an eye on her goods. He needed to hand the invoice to The Council and if there was time see about possible honeymoon locations.
He told her they had to talk. She said they did and it was nice. He told her there was something important. She said weddings were always important and she wouldn't forget him while he was gone. He finally told her he was sleeping with Spike. She said she thought Giles would have more than one bed, and if he had to top and tail with Spike, then she was sure Spike wasn't the bed-wetting sort! He gave up.
The train pulled in and began to unload containers for the docks. Spike and Xander said hurried goodbyes and slipped unnoticed between the crates and onto the train. The others left and the train pulled out.
They were alone.
Xander sat on the floor of the goods wagon and hugged his knees, staring at Spike stood by the open door, flicking fag ash out into the night. He couldn't resist running a hand up the vampire's leg. "You didn't tell her." Spike said softly.
"I did! I said 'I'm sleeping with Spike.' It was like I was speaking English and she was speaking... well...Anyan."
Spike threw the butt to the wind and turned round. He was through being noble, at least for the time being. "Her loss." He said, beginning to undo his fly. "Well, as you're down there, might as well make yourself useful."
And Xander agreed.
Chapter ThreeThe journey across the States was uneventful everywhere but in the bedroom. The scenery changed, the accents changed and Spike and Xander relaxed into each other's company. It was good just to be themselves, away from their respective images back home.
They checked into yet another motel room that was basic at best. Spike carefully emptied his cooler, throwing away the remains of the blood. He'd been eking it out, until it was offal and he could feel the hungry demon within. He'd never had to exercise this much self-control before. Xander's blood sang to him, until he felt even a wrong thought might set off the chip. Not that it was about that. Xander needed to trust him, and that wouldn't happen if he felt himself to be no more than a good meal.
"Oh, but you are a nummy treat, my sweet." The thought escaped, before he could catch it.
He dumped himself on the bed and tried to close his eyes. How was he going to survive? He should have just swallowed his pride and allowed himself to be crated in some aircraft hold. As it was, he'd been eating the rarest of the rare, everywhere they'd stopped. But just how many American eateries really catered for disabled vampires?
He opened his eyes and caught Xander with a glance. He knew immediately that he'd let his mask slip, when Xander jumped up, mumbled something and headed for the bathroom. "Great, scare the bloke." He thought.
Xander sat down on the closed toilet lid and leant his back against the cistern. Spike was hungry, the yellow showed clearly in his eyes. "Damn it, X-man! Why don't you ever pay attention to these things?"
He looked around the room and his eyes fell on Spike's cutthroat razor. Watching Spike shave, without the aid of a mirror, had been one of those things that had brought them closer together. He picked it up from the edge of the bath. The blade was sharp enough to cut silk. An idea formed on the edges of Xander's mind.
Spike had sat behind Xander and shown him how to use the thing once. Of course, he'd nicked himself. Hot shivers ran down his spine as he thought about Spike's reaction to the sudden blood. How he'd licked it from his cheek, before sucking to draw out more. It had been so sexy, Xander had found himself begging to be taken then and there. He wondered what Spike might say if he offered him some now.
He'd never given much thought to the ways of vampires. He pretty much believed they wanted to eat him and he pretty much knew he didn't want to die. Various events had coloured his view. The death of Jesse had to be top of the list. Sometimes he'd see his friend, vamp faced, laughing at him. He'd hear his fifteen-year-old self, pleading with the creature; sure, that Jesse was still in there somewhere. And always, he'd see him explode into dust at his own hands.
Spike proved himself a vampire at every turn. He was cruel, vicious, calculating and duplicitous. But he was also determined, loyal, smart and powerful.
He turned the razor over in his hands. Could he do this for Spike? It was such a little thing really and he wasn't even sure it was going to help. But Spike was hungry and he hadn't asked. Vampires were proud creatures, sure of their own power and superiority. Xander realised just what the chip had cost Spike. It wasn't only that he couldn't murder and terrorise, he couldn't hunt, feed or even defend himself from humans. Yet still, he hadn't asked. Could he do this for Spike? How could he not?
Spike smelt the blood from the other side of the bathroom door and was through it before Xander could make a second stroke.
"What the fucking 'ell d'you think you're doing with my razor?!"
"You're hungry, I thought.... Look, better drink, before it all ends up on the floor. Kinda defeats the object."
The vampire just stared. The smell filled every crevice in the small room and the song of the blood became a scream. His features morphed involuntarily, "I don't..."
"Take it. Come on, vamp boy, free meal here. Just leave enough to get me home."
Spike knelt in front of Xander and took hold of his left hand. He looked at the cut. It wasn't deep. Xander placed his right hand on the back of Spike's head and pushed gently. He gasped as a cat like tongue was drawn along the length of the cut.
After two or three more licks, Spike sank his fangs in deep and drank. It took all his self-control to take just enough. It wasn't even a pint, but it was warm and human and freely given. Xander had trusted him and he didn't betray that trust. He drew out his fangs and looked up into the young man's face. Xander's eyes were closed and a small sigh escaped his lips. Spike licked the wound to seal it.
"That is going to hurt like fuck and it serves you right. Don't do anything so bloody stupid again and...thank-you."
Later, they lay in each other's arms, sated and warm in the aftermath of their lovemaking. Spike gently stroked the wound, now cleaned and bandaged. Xander's blood still sang to him but quieter now, more of a hum. It was familiar and comforting. "Mine." He thought and then he slept.
---
New York, New York, big, brash and loud. It made Xander feel every inch a small town boy from the west coast. The late summer heat was oppressive, making the residents shout and cuss. At least he assumed it was the heat. He was glad he'd finally persuaded Spike to spend some of the expense account, transferred by The Council, on a hire car. He'd been able to get to a butcher's at most of the stopovers and ask for blood.
After having parked in a multi-storey, well out of the sun, he got the address of their contact in the city, and left Spike to sleep under a tarp in the back of the car. He didn't lock it. Anyone trying to steal it was in for a shock. Spike may not have been able to bite but, faced with an angry vampire, who was going to ask if it was neutered?
Down by the pier was a small English pub called the King's Head. The towering skyline of Manhattan dwarfed it completely. Xander entered and asked for a name. Immediately there was a flurry of activity and he was bundled into the back. There, sitting on a barrel, was a man, sort of. He had demon in there somewhere Xander was sure. As if in answer to his thoughts, the chap said, "I'm Ray and I'm a Libran."
"I'm Xander, Leo."
"It's my species, not my star sign. I'm a balance demon. We keep the forces of good and evil equal. You are doing us a great favour. Here take these."
Ray handed Xander passports, tickets and visas. "Nice little operation The Council is running here," He thought, "They could out organise, organised crime, and that was organised enough for any organisation, and you babble, even in your head."
He turned to go, "Where's the vampire?" Ray asked.
"Car-sleeping, why?"
"I just wanted to wish him luck. I told you, I'm not human." And with that, he vanished.
"Does Spike need another demon's luck for this thing?" Xander thought, as he drank the nearest thing the nearby deli had to a coffee. "And what am I in this? Comic relief, the Zeppo or have I been elevated to Robin? Twentieth Century Fox presents, Spike and Xander in, 'The End of the World.' Filmed entirely on location, featuring Giles as the handy Watcher and guest staring The Council as themselves."
"I should have just said no." He said to himself, flicking through the rare section of a neat little comic shop he'd found in the village. But Anya had annoyed him and Giles had made it pretty damn clear this was important. So what if he was the sidekick, it was a step up from gofer. "And the sidekick gets all the best lines." He reminded himself.
He did the rest of the tourist bits of the city, except Liberty. He'd never been out of the State and now thanks to being 'the sidekick' he was seeing the world. It kind of dwarfed the other major lifestyle choice, he decided as he looked over the East River from the top of the Empire State.
A small boy ran up to him, "Can you put my quarter in, Mister?" He asked, indicating the viewing telescope behind them. Xander smiled, placed the coin in the slot and lifted up the child, so he could look through the eyepiece. He gave him a replacement quarter and sent him back to his Mom.
And what was gay anyway? The idea of marriage and kids scared him rigid. He'd rather face a whole pit full of hungry vamps or a deadly unknown mission, like this one. He and Anya were torturing each other and they weren't even married yet. He was becoming rude and surly and she already didn't listen to him.
"In fact," He thought, as he made his way back to the car, clutching his spoils and sucking a huge I love NY lollipop, "Spike is the less demanding of the two." Their bouts had been like a breath of fresh air.
Before he checked in at the car park, he detoured to the post office and sent Anya a telegram. Yes, they were fine, no they hadn't got there yet, yes, he would wire again from the UK and, "Please don't set a firm date for the wedding. We need to have an urgent talk, face to face first." He sighed, tipped the guy and went off to get Spike.
---
Not long after dark, they deposited the car and made their way to the dock that berthed a lesser liner of the Cunard line. No one challenged their false papers and they soon found themselves in a comfortable cabin, below the water line and safe from sunlight. The domestic bursar kept nodding and winking at them, "Is there anything else I can get you, gentlemen?" Nod, nod, wink, wink.
"No thanks. We're fine." Xander tipped him big time to get shot of the guy.
Spike shook his head, "My tip would have been 'don't be such an annoying prick!'"
"Which is how you win friends and influence people." Xander laughed.
Spike swept him up in his arms and planted a huge kiss on his nose. "You know the bloke fancies the bollocks off you, don't you?" He said, enjoying the heat as the blush rose under Xander's tan.
"You're evil." Said Xander, pushing him away.
"Always." He replied.
They placed the holdall containing the wand, under one of the queen sized beds and headed for the decks, to watch the New York skyline gently drift away from them. Spike leaned into Xander and rested his head on the young man's shoulder. It was nice. Maybe this time he would get the romantic interludes and soft love theme. There were plenty of other people on the deck, waving to loved ones or just admiring the twinkling lights of the city. The domestic bursar walked by and Xander immediately turned to Spike and kissed him long and hard. There were various 'little old lady' gasps and the bursar hurried away.
"You're evil." Spike said when he decided to let Xander have some air.
"Sometimes." Xander replied.
---
It was a long trip. Not that they didn't enjoy themselves. They took advantage of good food, dancing and night swimming, but there were no butcher's shops here and Spike's blood lust began to raise its head once
more."Maybe if you bit me during sex," Suggested Xander, "If I wanted you to, might confuse the little sucker."
So Spike tried, but almost as soon as the blood hit his throat, the pain began with such force that he threw up, barely missing a very apologetic Xander. Sex and biting were not ways of circumventing the chip, however much Xander wanted it. So, Xander went back to cutting himself and getting some very strange looks from the domestic bursar.
Spike stood on deck, rock still against the pitching of the ocean. He lit a cigarette and stared out to sea. The Atlantic stars were large and bright and the ribbon of the Milky Way ran through them in a creamy band. Dru had talked to the stars, asked for their intercession when there had been nothing else, wept at them and wrung her hands when insanity gripped her and named them all the same name. "So which one is William?" He thought with contempt, "None of them, Plonker!" Fuck, he was a fool for love and always had been. "So just how much of a prat are you being this time?"
He knew he was no longer alone, the bursar had joined him at the rail, "Why do you let your boyfriend do that?" He asked.
"What?!"
"Self harm. I've seen the cuts. If he needs help then why not..." He suddenly felt himself rise and realised he was closer to the water than was comfortable or necessary. He hadn't even seen the blond move.
Spike chuckled to himself. He did not intend to drop the bloke, so no pain. He turned the bursar around without letting go and the man found himself looking into the feral, yellow eyes of a vampire.
"I suggest you mind your own beeswax, an' don't get in between me an' my lover, China. Unless of course you want to offer what he offers. I'm hungry but 'ave no intention of hunting on this ship." He set the man down before the bloke crapped his pants, but remained game faced, "Find a way of feeding me or I might just change me mind."
"Yes, yes of course, Sir. We aim to please."
From then on little packages would be left in the room. The blood wasn't human but nor was it tainted, so Spike never asked where it came from.
---
They arrived in Southampton, hired a car and eventually headed down the A36 to Bath. They'd spent an amazing evening in the city, finishing up standing on the tables of a spit and sawdust pub called 'The Frog and Frigate', downing Newquay Steam beers and singing at the tops of their lungs.
"You know," Said Xander, as Spike swung the car around the bend and the lights of Bath came into view in the valley below, "The last few weeks have been like a vacation."
"A Honeymoon?" Spike suggested with only slight sarcasm.
"Drop it." Xander warned. "No, I meant more like a reward and that's kinda scary. What could be so dangerous that we get to have our good boy treats before the job?"
"Maybe that!" Spike slammed on the brakes, the car screeched to a halt on the deserted road and stalled. He pointed at the sky. High above the city, hung a huge winged creature. It was the nearest thing to a dragon, Xander had ever seen. It was pitch black against the orange glow of the sodium lights. Its long neck arched as it turned its head this way and that. It lashed its tail, screeched once and disappeared from view over the horizon.
The two looked at one another. Xander gulped, Spike shook his head and started the car. All of a sudden, getting to Giles was the most important thing. They both sensed it, that thing was an omen. The 'honeymoon', if that's what it was, was definitely over.
Chapter Four"Was it really necessary to pound on my front door quite so hard, Spike?" Muttered Giles. Sighing, he assessed the damage to his paintwork. He ushered them down a narrow hallway and into the low-ceilinged living room.
"Oh don't be such an old woman!" Said Spike throwing himself onto the couch with enough force to make the back creak. He hung his head right back and declared, "I am knackered." He made an exaggerated yawn.
Xander remained standing and for a moment, there was an awkward silence. He finally broke it with, "So G-man just how long has England had a Dragon problem anyway?"
"Dragon?"
"Yeah, you know - winged beastie, tail, fire - except without the fire, 'cos I guessing not into stereotypes, right?"
"You're saying you saw a dragon? Did he take you drinking?" Giles pointed an accusing finger at Spike, apparently asleep on the couch.
"No."
"Yes." Trust Spike to not only be awake, but truthful.
He tried again, "Yes."
"No."
"Are you doing that on purpose?" Xander snapped.
Spike opened an eye and looked at the brunette with a wry smile. "Drink yes, dragon no. But there's one fuck-off sized Cupid in the area."
"Cupid! No way. Cute cherub with the love hearts and the arrows? So not the image of this thing."
Spike stood, stretched and shook his head at Giles, "So young." He said, "Now, where am I kipping?"
Xander was less than impressed by that last comment, "I'm not...okay so I'm young but that was no Valentine's Day Cupid! And you are so ignoring me..." He gave up.
Giles showed the vampire to a room off the living room. It was southwest facing and he'd nailed a heavy piece of black, velvet curtaining over the window. He'd put Xander upstairs in the spare bedroom. "I think we'd all better get some sleep. If you saw a Cupid then we might need to work fast tomorrow and we've lost enough time already."
"And again with the Cupid. Is nothing sacred?" Xander mumbled as he headed for the stairs.
Xander tossed and turned, but he could not get comfortable. It was the first time he'd slept alone since moving out from his parent's basement over year ago, and the first time he'd slept without Spike in nearly three weeks. He wondered how Anya was doing without him. There had been no messages. Once, a long time ago, or so it seemed, she couldn't get enough of him, separation was unthinkable.
"Separation. Strange word to choose so close to marriage." But that was what it felt like. It wasn't like she needed him there. He wasn't involved in any part of the planning. Okay, she asked for his choice of the finger buffet or sit down meal, but when he'd chosen finger buffet, she'd argued him out of it. She could plan much better without him. He was in fact the 'original spare prick' as Spike had so eloquently put it once.
And what was with the insurance and the attitude? Thinking about badness happening to him, used to make her physically sick. Maybe, it was just guilt that made him edgy. He was the one who'd strayed first, after all. Sex with her had been wild and furious and anywhere. Now it was tender and gentle and boring, in bed with the lights off. He'd even taken to wearing pyjamas. He was turning into his father and that's what scared him most of all. He'd watched his parents locked in a loveless marriage, hurting each other that little bit more every day.
Maybe he should.... He got up and crept to the door. He put his hand on the doorknob and changed his mind. He got back into bed, lay on his back and closed his eyes. He let his fingers wander gently over his body. Maybe it was better to do this alone, with no one but the lover in his head.
Xander drew the index finger of his right hand into his mouth and coated it with saliva. He ran his hand up the inside of his pyjama top and circled a nipple with the wet finger until the nub was tight and hard. He flicked it once or twice to send hot shivers rushing groinwards. "Yes," He sighed out loud. Just himself and his head-lover, but this internal lover was begging to take on form. He imagined Spike's cool fingers doing the job, warming against the heat of his body even as his own did.
Remoistening the finger, he traced the line between his pecs and down his abdomen. He sucked in a breath. There was no need to be silent but he wasn't keen on Giles listening to him flog his log.
He dipped the finger briefly into his navel for no other reason than that Spike liked to dwell there. Spike loved to kiss and lick him all over until every nerve ending was alight. He brought his left hand down inside his bottoms, to cup his balls and roll them gently in their velvety sack.
Another sigh caught in his throat. "Spike, ahh." Spike's image in his head, Spike's hands, not his own, cool hands, cool tongue, hard lean body and now the coup de gras. A thing he never thought he'd like until Spike showed him how to love it. He gently stroked his anus, that puckered ring of muscle, and spiralled the finger towards the centre. One then two fingers, moving towards their goal. He penetrated himself with a groan and crooked those probing fingers forwards and - there!! Fire and ice shot through his gut.
Placing his other hand firmly around his cock, he began to wank, using long strokes that took his fist from base to tip, washing the head with pre cum. He tried to remain quiet as his pleasure built, tried not to let the bed creek, tried to control his breathing. The tension in his body mounted and he strained not to speed up, knowing orgasm wasn't far away. "Yess, yesss, yesssss!!" Came out in a hoarse whisper. He thrust his fingers deep within, ground his fist against his burning cock and came long, hard and not quite silently. He stroked himself to completion, knowing he would dream of Spike.
---
Sleep should have come easily to the vampire, even though it wasn't exactly vampiric naptime, he was genuinely tired, but something was missing. "Or someone," He thought dismally. So, how could he have wangled it so that they slept together? He couldn't, he admitted, "So get a grip, Spike." He muttered to himself, rolling over onto his stomach and punching the pillow. If Xander wanted him, he'd come down. It was only sex after all, wasn't it?
He slid a hand beneath his hips, circled his cock and began to rub his aching penis into the bed. He imagined Xander's hand on his cock and, as the friction increased, he could actually feel those long, warm, tanned fingers wrapped around his shaft. He thrust relentlessly in and out of his tight fingers; building up the stimulation, until his body couldn't take it any more.
"No, no! Too soon!" He thought, tumbling back onto his side and taking his burgeoning erection in his left hand. Gentle strokes, soft strokes, who would have thought the brickie would be the gentlest of all his lovers?
He moved the foreskin forward and back, watching the head appear and disappear, rolling the sleeve of skin up and down. Again, he reached the edge of climax and again he stopped, this time taking hold of his scrotum and rubbing the underside until it became uncomfortable.
He went back to his cock. His balls still throbbed from their rough treatment so now he was gentle, running a finger around the edge of the foreskin, drawing lazy circles. He brought himself to the edge one more time and then pulled down hard, bringing his right hand to caress the inside of that most sensitive piece of skin. This time it was no holds barred. He pumped frantically and lightening hit his brain as he tumbled over the edge towards orgasm. He cried out, "Xander!" Sighed, and fell asleep sticky.