The Choice

By Esmeralda

Part One

Xander chewed the end of his pen, and stared thoughtfully at the sheet of paper in front of him. So far it bore the date and one, *very* short, line. 'Dear Will' wasn't much to show for nearly three hours work..... but it was still going better than his phone call to Buffy.

She had been less than happy when he failed to keep to their - 'phone me every other day or else' - agreement. He decided recovering in hospital from a brutal vampire attack was probably a poor choice of defence, so he'd played the 'I'm a useless doof' card, which seemed to have worked.

She had filled him in on the situation back in Sunnydale. Basically, he wasn't exactly Mr Popular with anyone. His parents were furious that he'd quit his job. Giles was unhappy because Xander's father kept calling. Willow was upset because Xander had taken off without a word. Buffy was pretty pissy with him too. She'd made up some story for Giles and Willow, telling them he'd gone to learn the P.I. trade with Angel. She said it was up to him to come clean about the rest.

Xander was grateful for her discretion, and upset that everyone was upset, hence the letter. However, trying to tell your best friend that you were gay was an enormous hurdle. Trying to tell your best friend that you were gay, *and* involved with Spike was virtually insurmountable. Maybe he should phone? Then again, maybe not. Neither he nor Will were much good with the verbal communications.

"All right, pet?" Spike wandered out of the kitchen carrying a tray. He set it down on the coffee table beside the couch.

Xander looked at it and raised his eyebrows. "Tea?"

"And biscuits," said Spike defensively, snatching one and shoving it into his mouth. He munched happily and motioned toward the discarded piece of paper. "How's the letter to Red going?"

"In a word - nowhere," said Xander reaching for a biscuit. He spoke around a mouthful of crumbs, "I mean what am I supposed to say?"

Spike shrugged. "The truth?"

"Oh great, I just say 'Hey Will, guess what, I've discovered I like guys. Oh yeah, and I'm doing the wacky with Spike."

Spike spat crumbs as he chuckled. "Well you could say that, pet, but I'd go with something a *bit* more subtle."

"Any suggestions, oh mighty one?"

"I dunno," said Spike shrugging. "Why not just tell her you're into blokes and leave out the other crap?"

Xander poked his lover in the leg as he passed him the mug of blood.

"*Not* crap. This is important stuff, that's why I want to tell her." He sighed. "I just don't know how."

"So call her instead."

Xander sipped his tea. "I don't know. It's been so long since we really talked ..about ..well...anything. We've got pretty good at repressing all that 'innermost thoughts' stuff. I mean, we used to talk, before things got complicated-"

"-and the old hormones kicked in," said Spike. He shook his head, "How do you buggers manage to breed? Half the time you're not even speaking the same soddin' lingo."

"What, you didn't date before you got vamped?"

"I shagged," said Spike crudely. "There wasn't a lot of polite conversation."

The rattle of the elevator car ended their discussion. Doyle stepped out carrying a small box. "How's it going, fellas?"

Spike grunted.

Xander waved his sheet of paper. "Depends. How are you at writing letters?"

"These would be the earth-shattering revelation kind, yeah?"

Xander nodded.

Doyle shook his head. "I'm not much for baring my emotions, as my ex-wife would no doubt testify."

"You were married?" asked Xander in surprise.

"Yep," said Doyle, unpacking the box ~ he put the packets of blood in the fridge. "Then I found out about my 'interesting' birthright, and things kinda fell apart. They aren't so bad now. We've talked. Said all the stuff we should have said then."

"Does she know....." Xander's voice trailed off. He flushed.

"That I'm in love with my boss?" Doyle guessed. "That would be a 'no'. She's in Sumatra at the moment, so it hasn't really come up."

"Will you tell her?"

Doyle thought about it. Finally he said, "Yeah, I think I will. We've both moved on. She's dating some guy. I think she'll be glad I'm happy."

"Yeah, right," Spike snorted.

Doyle's reply was lost as he gasped sharply, grabbing at the refrigerator door. He let go and clasped his head with both hands as he sank to the floor. Before he hit the ground, Spike was vaulting over the back of the couch. The vampire slid to his knees beside him, drawing Doyle close. Xander rushed over to them, wide-eyed and slightly panicked.

"Vision," Spike explained succinctly. He'd witnessed his fair share of funny turns ~ Dru whimpering and moaning while he stroked her hair, and tried to soothe her. Now he held Doyle as the vision ran its course.

Xander crouched down beside them, one hand on Doyle's leg. "What can we do?" he asked.

"Nothing," said Spike bluntly. His impassive demeanour was at odds with the gentle way he held the stricken man.

Abruptly it ended. Doyle lay gasping in Spike's arms, green eyes glazed with pain. "Drink?" he groaned.

Spike drew a silver hip flask out of his pocket. He passed it to Xander who unscrewed the cap and held it to Doyle's lips.

Doyle took several grateful sips and coughed. "Tha-that ... was .... a ... baddun."

"What'dya see?" Spike asked.

Doyle frowned, his focus hazy. He suddenly realised how close he was to the vampire and struggled to rise; but his bones felt as if they'd been replaced with wet string, and he sank back into Spike's embrace with a moan. Spike muttered and lifted the young man up, carrying him over to the couch.

Xander followed. "Are they all like that?" he asked, concerned.

Doyle nodded weakly. "Pretty...pretty much. At...least....the..b-bone crunching pain...and.. the...falling to my...knees part."

Xander winced in sympathy.

Spike was still impatiently waiting . "So, you saw summat, yeah? Well, what?"

Grim-faced, Doyle regarded them both silently.

Xander felt a cold shiver creep down his spine.

--------------------

Angel was summoned downstairs by three, very sombre looking individuals.

"What?" he asked worriedly. "What's happened?" No one answered and his sense of foreboding deepened. "Doyle?"

"I had a vision," said the young man quietly.

Angel looked at him. "Are you okay?"

Doyle smiled faintly to assuage his lover's concern. "I'm fine, just the usual headache. It's wearing off."

Angel forced himself to ask. "What did you see?"

It was Spike who answered. "Your soddin' ex has landed herself in it again. Right up to her scrawny little neck."

<Buffy....> Worried dark eyes turned toward troubled green ones.

"What...?"

Doyle shrugged helplessly. "There wasn't much detail. Just her, a Hellmouth, and some guy working the mystic arts."

"A sorcerer?"

"Possibly. I didn't get much on him. The vision didn't give me a name or a face, just the feelin' of trouble comin'." Doyle's face tightened. "Bad trouble."

"We're going back, yeah?" Xander asked. "I mean, we're going to help Buffy, right?"

Spike stared at Xander. "Are you fuckin' nuts? You're not going back there."

Xander raised his jaw defiantly. "Buffy's my friend. I'm going to help." He looked around at them all. "You can't stop me," he insisted; though his expression said he was worried they might try.

"No one's stopping any one," said Angel gently, "but Spike might be right. You've only just got back up on your feet again and-"

"-and I'm fine," Xander cut in. He tried to put his point from another angle. "Look, you're both going. Right?"

Angel looked at Doyle, who nodded. The vampire looked back at Xander. "We're going."

"Then I want to help," said Xander. He stared at Spike, his expression pleaded for his lover to understand. "We can't let them go back alone. They risked their necks to help me get you out." Xander wasn't trying to appeal to his lover's sense of honour, since Spike didn't really have one. However, Spike hated being indebted. He might not be all upright and noble, but he paid his dues.

Spike wasn't buying it. "I'm not risking my bloody neck for that chit. If someone wants to work the mojo on her, good luck to him. I hope he gives her a fatal case of boils." A low growl warned him he was walking on dangerous ground. Spike fell silent, but his gold-eyed glower spoke volumes.

Angel restricted his warning to a growl and a glare. He was well aware there was no love lost between his errant offspring and his former lover, but on this occasion he felt Spike was speaking out of fear for Xander rather than hatred for Buffy.

"She's my friend," Xander reiterated defiantly. "I c.can help."

Since Angel was glaring at his Childe he saw the flicker of concern that shadowed gold-blue eyes. Spike had picked up on the slight tremor in Xander's voice. It seemed, even after all he'd gone through, Xander was still unsure of his worth.

Spike's expression softened, the anger fading from his eyes. "All right, but you don't mess with nothin' with horns or-"

"-tentacles," Xander finished. "I remember." He smiled, his face lighting up with relief. "So we all go?" he asked hopefully.

Spike nodded. "If Peaches here wants us."

Xander turned to Angel expectantly.

Angel was trapped. How could he refuse the boy? Besides, Xander was right - he was Buffy's friend, what right did Angel have to deny him. "We all go," he agreed. "I'll call Giles, see if he's heard anything, and let him know to expect us."

"What about Cordy?" Doyle asked. "You want me to tell her to pack her bags too?"

Angel shook his head. "No, I want her here, but tell her to come in as usual. We might need her to check a few things for us." He turned to Spike and Xander. "Get ready. I want to leave as soon as it's dark." They nodded and left. Angel sighed, he hoped he was making the right decision. Something told him, evil sorcerers aside, this was not going to be a restful trip.

Part Two

Xander turned away from the mirror as he slipped off his clothes. The mark on his throat had all but disappeared. Not so the scars on his chest. They'd faded to a pale, pinkish white, but the words that ran just beneath the line of his pectorals were still clear. Beneath them was a crooked cross. It sickened him to look at them, bringing a rush of remembered fear and fresh revulsion.

The memory of Penn's hands touching his body made his skin crawl, and left him with an overpowering urge to scrub himself clean. He was relieved no one had, as yet, said anything about the number of showers he was taking. He stepped into the cubicle and turned on the water, immersing himself under the near scalding spray. Eyes closed, he neither saw nor heard the bathroom door open, but he sensed he was no longer alone. He turned quickly - Spike stood, leaning back against the basin.

Xander's hands automatically covered his scarred chest. "W-what?"

"Nothing, pet. Just admiring the view." Spike wandered up to the glass door. He yanked his T-shirt over his head and slipped off his jeans and boots. Sliding open the door he stepped inside. As his body rubbed up against Xander's, Spike closed his eyes and gave a rumbling purr.

Xander jumped. Blue eyes opened and regarded him intently. Xander held his breath as Spike very purposefully took hold of his hands and drew them down to his sides.

"Don't," Spike whispered. "Don't hide yourself from me."

Xander dropped his gaze. Spike immediately released one of his hands and caught hold of his chin, tilting his head back up. The vampire kissed him tenderly.

"You're mine," Spike whispered. "Nothing changes that."

"I....I....feel different," said Xander helplessly; not even certain himself what he meant. Spike's gaze fell to the scars on his chest and Xander flushed. The vampire let go of his hands and pushed him gently back against the shower stall.

"Mine," he repeated firmly. He kissed Xander again. This time he didn't draw back. Chilled lips trailed along Xander's throat, across his collar bone, down to his nipples. Xander flinched as Spike reached his scars, and a cold tongue flickered gently over the tiny lines and ridges.

Spike dropped to his knees, level with Xander's groin. He blew lightly against the still soft flesh; it twitched in response.

Xander stood, the hot water pounding down his back. He moaned as Spike's tongue brushed along his length, feeling the blood pooling down through his body. Another long, slow lick; this time Spike let the head slip between his lips, suckling on it gently before letting go.

Xander whimpered. This was the first real move Spike had made on him since he'd left the hospital. There had been plenty of tender kisses, tight embraces, and longing looks, but Spike had seemed strangely reluctant to carry them further. Xander had been both relieved and frustrated by his lover's recalcitrance. Now he realised how much he needed this.

Spike looked up, rivulets of water trickling down his face. "More?"

Xander didn't bother with words, simply guiding Spike back to his stirring flesh. Spike flashed him a wicked grin and resumed his actions. Xander gasped as skilled lips closed around his erection, drawing it deep into Spike's mouth. His hips moved involuntarily, thrusting lazily into cool, satin depths. Strong hands gripped his thighs, pulling him closer.

Body shaking, Xander leaned back against the tiles. From somewhere he found the strength to turn his head, he glanced down. Spike's blond head bobbed flush with his loins, rosy lips suckling hard. "Oh god," murmured Xander hoarsely.

Wet lips withdrew. "Want me to stop?" Spike asked, his eyes held a teasing glint.

"Don't you fucking dare," said Xander fiercely.

Spike grinned. "No sir." He wrapped his lips back around Xander's erection and began suckling with renewed vigour.

Xander stuck his hand in his mouth to muffle his cries. Seconds later he came, shooting his seed deep into Spike's throat. Only his lover's strong arms prevented him collapsing in a less than dignified heap. He sagged into the embrace, struggling to get his breath back.

"Good?" Spike asked softly.

Xander drew back just far enough to look his lover in the eye. "Bet-better than," he managed breathlessly.

Spike's slightly worried look evaporated and the wolfish grin returned. "Good. Now hurry up and get your clobber back on. I've got summat for you."

Xander looked at him.

"Not that," said Spike. His grin widened. "Well, maybe later."

Xander swatted him weakly. "At least..w..wait until...I...I get my.. b-breath..b-back."

Spike kissed him tenderly. "Course I will, pet. No fun otherwise. Now come on, shift your arse."

Grumbling, Xander followed his lover out of the shower. "Whatever happened to lazing in the afterglow," he muttered, reaching for a towel.

Spike was already fastening his jeans; he picked up his boots and stood impatiently by the door. "Will you stop your griping and get a move on."

"I'm coming, I'm coming," said Xander. He rubbed the towel over his hair, wild looking tufts stuck up in all directions.

"Very fetching, pet," Spike smirked.

Xander flipped him the finger and put on his shirt. He left it unfastened and dragged on his pants.

"Done?"

Xander waved his arm wearily. "Lead on, oh master." Spike draped an arm around his shoulders and gave him a swift peck on the temple.

"Now, now, pet. Be nice or no pressie."

Xander's reply was a non-committal grunt.

Spike smoothed down unruly sable strands. His expression grew serious. "You feelin' better now?" he asked quietly.

Xander turned to face his lover's concerned gaze. It was typical of Spike to treat sex as some kind of 'cure-all'. Still, he couldn't deny that he did feel better. Maybe some things had changed, maybe he was different. *This* was constant; this closeness he craved and needed to reassure, and reaffirm the link between them. He nodded and leaned in to place a quick kiss on his lover's mouth.

Spike made a contended sound and nuzzled Xander's throat, fangs playfully nipping the delicate skin. "Mine," he purred.

"Yours," Xander agreed softly.

They left the bathroom together. Spike led Xander over to the couch. It was littered with boxes and bags. Xander looked at them and then looked at Spike, who nudged him forward.

"Well, look at 'em then."

Intrigued, and somewhat bewildered, Xander warily reached for the first bag.

Spike flung himself into the chair opposite. "Will you stop being so bloody nervous. It won't soddin' bite."

Xander put his hand into the bag and lifted out - a shirt. Not just any shirt, but a beautiful dark, wine red, obviously expensive shirt. He stared, wide-eyed.

"You like?" Spike asked, trying to sound off-hand. "And before you ask, it's paid for. I've even got the bloody receipt round here somewhere." He shook his head in evident self disgust.

"Mine?" Xander asked, the soft material slipping between his fingers.

Spike sat back, putting his feet up on the coffee table. "All yours, pet. Figured it was time you stopped wearing Peaches' hand-me-downs. Not that they didn't look good on you...." His voice trailed off and he shrugged awkwardly. "Anyway, we sent the mick and princess shopping."

"Cordy picked this?" Xander asked.

"Sort of," said Spike. "Angel gave her the funds, and me and 'im told her what to get." He pointed toward a large flat box at the back. "Except for that. That's just from me, but you have to open the others first."

Xander grinned and very carefully lay aside the shirt as he turned his attention to the other packages. He quickly came to the conclusion that Angel had spent a small fortune....and Cordy must have had a field day. There were casual shirts and pants, some more dressy stuff, sneakers and shoes. Not a loud print or wide stripe amongst them. Colours were deep and rich - jewel reds, greens, and blues. For someone who'd only ever spared it a passing thought, fashion suddenly had new meaning.

"I...I...." He was trying to say he didn't know what to say. Instead all he could do was open and close his mouth like a fish.

Spike looked amused. "Open mine," he demanded impatiently.

Xander reached for the last box. It was heavy. He carefully took off the lid and lifted the layers of tissue paper. His jaw dropped. Inside lay a black leather coat. He carefully lifted it out. It was three quarter length, soft and supple as peach skin, classy but not, as Spike would say, 'nancyish'.

"It needs to be worn-in," Spike told him. "Leather looks better when you've been fightin' and fuckin' in it for a few years." He affectionately patted his duster, which was draped over the back of the chair.

Xander was still speechless. His clothes had always been a selection of cast-offs from colour blind cousins, and bargains from the cheap markets and stores his mother frequented. He brought the leather jacket to his face and inhaled deeply - it even *smelled* good.

"It's all right, yeah?" a slightly anxious voice asked. "I mean, I had to trust them idiots to get it, but I told 'em what I wan-"

Spike was cut off when Xander threw himself forward and kissed him passionately. When the kiss ended he kept his arms locked around his lover's neck. "Thank you," he said simply, his voice rough with emotion. Spike hugged him back somewhat awkwardly.

"Yeah, well, no lover of mine is wandering about in shoddy gear," he mumbled. "Those soddin' shirts you wore in Sunnyhell made my flamin' eyes hurt."

Xander prodded him. "Not nice. We're having a Hallmark moment. Nasty digs and personal comments not allowed."

"Right," said Spike agreeably, burying his nose in soft, damp hair. "Whatever you say, pet."

"Was that sarcasm?"

"Might 'ave bin."

"Ruining the sugar rush here."

"Mmm," Spike murmured, claiming Xander's lips for a heated kiss and effectively silencing any further complaints.

Neither of them said anything else for some time.....

Part Three

Doyle sat on the edge of the bed, watching his lover pack a few items of clothing. Two other bags, containing books and a variety of weapons had been put by the elevator. Angel's face wore an all too familiar expression; a dark brooding look which meant he was fretting over something. He hadn't said a word for more than half an hour. Not since he'd called Giles. A conversation that had been terse to say the least.

The Watcher had nothing to add concerning their mysterious magic user and was less than happy to hear that Angel and Spike were heading back to Sunnydale. The Englishman had argued that Buffy was quite capable of handling whatever difficulties might arise, and she really didn't need any assistance. Angel had been uncharacteristically sharp, informing Giles that it wasn't his intention to intrude, he simply had a job to do and he was going to do it. The receiver had rattled when he'd slammed it back into the cradle. Clearly, Angel was a little 'on edge'.

Doyle's own emotions were over the place. Even more vague than usual, the vision had left him with a lingering sense of unease. Though faceless sorcerers were still fairly low on his list of pressing concerns and he pushed himself to talk about what was really tearing at him.

"So...erm.. are you gonna tell her?"

Angel stopped what he was doing but didn't turn around. "I owe her the truth," he said quietly.

Doyle stood and walked over to his lover. "I understand," he said gently, "but do you think this is the time? I mean, we might hafta work together on this. That might be hard if she's nursin' a grievance."

Angel looked sideways at him. "She'll know," he explained. "Even if we try to hide this. She'll sense something. If she thinks were keeping secrets from her it will just make things more difficult."

"Fair enough," said Doyle. He hesitated and then asked, "how d'ya think she'll take it?"

Angel sighed. "Honestly? I don't know." He glimpsed the wariness in dark green eyes and touched Doyle's cheek gently. "She won't hurt you."

"Me? Hey, I'm not worried," Doyle lied. "I mean she only slays evil, right?" His mouth twisted into a wry half smile. "Just do us both a favour and make sure she's at least unarmed when you break the news, yeah."

"She's going to be upset isn't she," said Angel sadly.

"That's pretty much a given," Doyle agreed. He nudged Angel, and his smile lightened. "Maybe we should let her beat the crap out of us. You know, let her get it out of her system."

Angel chuckled softly. "Trust me, not a good idea."

"Yeah she'd probably kill us both," said Doyle.

Someone rapped lightly on the door-frame; they turned to look. Xander hovered sheepishly in the doorway. Spike stood behind him, regarding his lover with lustful pride. Green eyes widened.

"Sorry to interrupt, guys. I just wanted to say thanks, for.. erm...all this-" Xander held out his hands to indicate his black jeans, dark sapphire shirt, and leather coat.

Angel smiled. "You're welcome. They look good on you," he added.

"Yeah?" Xander looked flustered at the compliment.

"All right, enough with the bloody chit chat," Spike grumbled. "Are we going or what?"

Angel nodded. "Let's go." He picked up his bag and Doyle slung his haversack over his shoulder. Xander retrieved his things as they went through the main room - he'd shoved what he needed into one of the large paper store bags.

Spike was travelling light. He had his lover, his lighter, his smokes, and a hip flask of JD. He'd also helped himself to one of Angel's fancy knives: a large ebony handled affair with a serrated blade, tucked snugly into his boot.

"Get those," said Angel, directing Spike to the bags by the elevator. The younger vampire shot his Sire a hateful look, but collected them without a word. They travelled in the cramped elevator in silence. Doyle found himself sandwiched between an agitated Xander and an annoyed Spike. He made sure he kept his hands in full view; the wrath of Spike was something he could well do without.

Spike dumped the bags by the car and grabbed his lover round the waist, hauling Xander with him onto the back seat. Xander ended up sprawled over him, their legs hanging out the open door.

"Spike, behave," Angel snapped wearily as he loaded the car.

There were muffled sniggers as the pair rearranged themselves.

"You know," said Doyle quietly, "those soldier boys aren't gonna be too happy to see Spike back in town. I think that truce we had with 'em is pretty much null and void if we show up there again."

"Then we'll just have to keep out of their way," said Angel simply, closing the boot.

Doyle nodded glumly and got into the passenger seat. He glanced into the rear view mirror. <Why am *I* worrying?> he thought in disgust. Spike certainly didn't seem too bothered. The vampire was busy groping Xander, who was struggling ineffectually to keep Spike's hands out of his jeans. Doyle sank lower into his seat and tried *not* to keep glancing into the mirror. He sighed quietly. Temptation was a tricky thing......

Part Four

Spike looked at the boy curled asleep on the seat beside him. Xander's head rested on his lap, dark waves ruffled by the breeze blowing through the open window. Spike gently smoothed the thick hair, letting his fingers brush the soft skin of the boy's throat; comforting blood heat beating just beneath the surface.

He was worried. Sunnyhell was sodding jinxed, every time he went there something disastrous happened. Before he'd been prepared to take his chances. Now he had Xander, and he was *not* willing to risk the whelp. He cursed The Powers That Be for the hundred and fifty-ninth time. He and the boy didn't fucking need this. Not now. There were still certain ... 'things' he needed to tell Xander, and he didn't want the Slayer or her Watcher sticking their bloody oars in.

Spike carded his fingers back through the boy's dark hair. He wound a sable strand tight around his finger, binding it to him. Cold eyes glittered with possessive fervour.<Mine> he thought silently. Just let the bitch and her flaming friends try to come between them, he'd rip her heart out first. His fingers tightened reflexively and Xander's eyes fluttered open.

"Ow," he mumbled softly.

Spike released his hold on the boy's hair at once, soothing the abused patch of scalp.

Xander wiggled over onto his back, staring sleepily up at the vampire. "Are we nearly there yet?"

Spike rolled his eyes. "Soon," he muttered.

Xander had no trouble picking up the less than enthusiastic tone. "You okay with this?" he asked quietly.

"What, risking my neck to save a soddin' *Slayer*? Oh yeah, I'm just peachy with it."

Xander sat up. "You didn't have to come."

"Like I was gonna let you wander off with nancy boy and the half-breed," said Spike irritably.

"I can look out for myself," said Xander.

Spike shot him a look. "Sure you can, pet. I mean, your track record speaks for itself."

Xander's jaw tightened and he blurted out the words without thinking, "As I remember it, *I* wasn't the one playing Doctors and Nurses with Dr Frankenstein the last time we were here."

Blue eyes narrowed dangerously. "And whose fuckin' fault was that," Spike snarled. "If the friggin' Watcher hadn't left me trussed up like a sacrificial goat-"

Xander turned away, Spike grabbed his arm and jerked him back.

Spike stared into hurt brown eyes and his anger dissolved. "Fuck," he muttered. "Look, I'll help your mates, but then we leave, right?"

Xander read the anxious concern in his lover's face and his own anger drained away. He nodded. "Okay."

"And," Spike continued, "you keep away from those fuckin' relatives of yours. I don't want you anywhere near 'em. You got that?"

That was a definite order. Xander thought about it briefly and decided it was one he was happy to obey. "Got it." He leaned back against his lover, who put an arm around his shoulders and planted a firm kiss on top of his head.

"You stay close to me, no matter what happens, right, and do as I bloody well tell you."

"Yes, master," Xander grumbled half-heartedly. Truth be told, he rather enjoyed Spike in major possessive mode. Though he was anxious as to what the others were going to make of it. <Will, *please* understand> he thought desperately. He realised Spike was still talking. "W-what?"

Spike snorted. "I *said* you and me are gonna have to have a little chat when we get to Sunnyhell. There's some stuff you need to know," he admitted reluctantly.

Xander's stomach knotted. "What stuff?" he asked worriedly.

"Later," said Spike firmly. "When we're alone." He looked pointedly at the pair in the front seat, who had tactfully ignored the earlier argument.

Already tense and on edge, Xander's panic levels shot up a couple of notches. He spent the rest of the journey chewing his bottom lip and trying *not* to think about 'stuff'.......it didn't work.

Part Five

Despite its unpleasant associations, the mansion was the only feasible place for them to stay. Angel got the generator going and built up the fire, giving them heat and light. Doyle swept out some of the leaves and propped the slightly damp mattresses near the open hearth to air. They'd bought a few blankets and he piled them up on the table. "Help yourself," he told Xander, who grabbed a couple and trailed after Spike.

The younger vampire had bagged the 'master suite'. Xander shivered, the room was dark and cold. Spike noticed his discomfort and with the assistance of a lighter and a touch of J.D quickly got a fire going. The flames set shadows dancing around the bare stone walls.

Spike then pushed the door shut and drew Xander over to a high backed chair. He gently pushed Xander into it and seated himself by the side of the hearth, well away from the open flames.

"Time for that 'little chat', huh," Xander guessed, less than thrilled about the prospect. He watched Spike take a long swill of J.D and felt his chest tighten. Dutch courage wasn't something Spike usually needed. When the vampire handed him the flask he snatched it and took a deep gulp. "-kay," he gasped hoarsely, "hit me with it."

Spike nodded. "Right," he said slowly, and then didn't say anything else.

Xander waited, torn between wanting to know....and wanting to leap up and run out of the room. A kind of fatalistic curiosity finally got the better of him. "Spike, *please.*"

Spike took another swig of J.D and lit a cigarette. "Remember what I said before," he began, " 'bout you changin' and stuff?"

Xander nodded warily, his hands tightening on the armrests.

"There's a bit more to it."

<Oh god> "Wh-what?"

"You know you said how'as you could see in the dark a bit?"

Another hesitant nod.

"Well that's part of it," said Spike.

"Part of what?" Xander asked.

Spike took a long, hard tug on his cigarette. "It'll get better," he said cryptically.

Xander was confused. "*What* will get better?" Then he understood. Brown eyes widened. "Me being able to see...in the dark? I'll get better at it?"

Spike nodded. "Yeah, and some...er...other...stuff"

Xander lost all patience, panic colouring his voice. "Enough with the man of mystery routine, all right! Just tell me, *what stuff*?"

"There's other terms for a Consort," said Spike quietly. "Some call 'em 'Shades' or 'half-kinds'."

"Half-kinds?" Xander repeated, shaking his head in bewilderment. "Half of what?"

Spike looked at him, eyes both sad and hopeful. "Half like me."

Xander stared. "Li-like...y-you." He closed his eyes as a rush of dizziness washed over him. When he opened them, Spike was still watching him with the same hopeful sadness. He realised Spike expected him to freak. Xander swallowed hard past the lump in his throat and exhaled deeply. "Okay," he said, "tell me the rest."

"You're not turnin' into a vampire," Spike assured him. "I didn't lie about that. You're just...not....quite...the same as you were. We share certain ...traits."

"Traits," said Xander. "Like seeing in the dark, a fondness for the old O negative. Those kind of *traits*?" He was trying very hard not to lose it completely.

"Pretty much," Spike muttered, lowering his gaze.

"Oh no," said Xander sliding off his chair onto the floor beside his lover. "You don't get away with going all closed-mouthed on me. Angel's the silent broody one, remember."

Spike stubbed out his cigarette on the stone flags and shrugged his shoulders. "You know most of the rest," he said quietly. "You can sense where I am and I can find you. You have a taste for blood. It'll never be a proper hunger, but you'll get to like it more, especially mine. You can see in the dark a bit already, as I said, that'll get stronger. So will your other senses." He cupped Xander's face gently. "That's what they mean, when they say 'Half-kinds' or 'Shades', you'll be a shade of me."

"Part vampire," Xander murmured under his breath. He stared at Spike, "That's what you mean, right? I'll be part vampire."

"Sort of," Spike admitted. "You won't be dead and you won't have a demon in you, but you're touched by it and it'll change you."

Xander pulled away from Spike's touch, missing the flash of hurt that darted across his lover's face. He needed some space. He needed to think. He stood on shaky legs and crossed the room. He was...changing? Okay, in all fairness, he'd already known that, he just hadn't known in what way or what into - now he did.

He spun back round to face his lover. "I won't lose my soul?"

Spike shook his head. "No."

"Why should I believe you?" Xander asked flatly.

Spike stared. "Because I love you," he said hoarsely.

Xander pursed his lips thoughtfully. "You said before I could stop, but it would be like going cold turkey. Is there a point when I won't be able to stop? When I'm changed for good?"

Spike nodded.

Xander drew in a shaky breath. "Am I there yet?"

Spike shook his head. "No, not yet."

"But I'm close?" Xander guessed.

Another nod.

"And if I said I want to stop?" Xander asked.

Spike stiffened and remained silent.

"Spike?"

"What?!" Spike snarled. "You want me to say I'll let you go? *No*! No fuckin' way. You're *mine*. I won't turn you, but I'm not givin you up!" His face slipped into its vampiric visage as he lost control. Gold eyes narrowed in confusion when Xander smiled.

"Good," said Xander softly, "because I don't ever want you to."

"Huh?"

Xander came back to sit on the stone floor beside his lover. "I admit, this all scares the wiggins out of me," he confessed, "but I *want* you. So I...I guess I can deal with it." He kissed Spike, running his tongue lightly over chilled lips. He drew back. "But I have to know," he continued, "I have to know that you won't just take off. I don't think I could handle this on my own-"

"-you don't have to," said Spike fiercely. "I'm not going anywhere. I told you that."

"I know," said Xander. "I....I just need the reminder now and then. I keep thinking this is one of those weird dreams I used to have, and I'll wake up on the floor of my basement to find that a shelf's fallen on my head."

"Not gonna happen," said Spike decisively. "Now bring them lips back over 'ere." He slipped his hand around the back of Xander's neck and drew the boy's mouth back to touch his. They kissed, slow and deep, taking the time to taste one another. Spike broke it, shrugging out of his duster and laying it down on the floor. "Get that off," he ordered, pointing at Xander's shirt.

"The age of romance really is dead," Xander quipped unfastening his buttons.

Spike growled. "I'll give you bloody romance. We're about to fuck in front of an open fire, how more bloody romantic do you want it?"

Xander slipped off his shirt and pretended to give the question some thought. "Hmm, let me see. Chocolates would be nice. I can pass on the flowers-Humph!" The rest of the sentence was lost as Spike pushed him down onto the duster and proceeded to suck the air out of his lungs. Needle sharp fangs pierced his tongue, making him gasp into the kiss.

Then Spike sliced into his and Xander's mouth was filled with blood. He murmured, swirling his tongue through the coppery heat, suckling on Spike's to bring forth more. Cold fingers brushed his nipples, making them tighten. Xander arched up, thrusting his groin against Spike's, feeling their erections rub through the layers of denim. He whimpered, wanting to be skin to skin.

Spike responded to his wordless plea, tearing away from the kiss just long enough to remove the rest of their clothing; the firelight cast their bodies in bronze and shadow. Wet kisses and playful nips were trailed across Xander's skin. He twitched as Spike touched his scars.

Spike soothed away his distress, whispering endearments as he kissed and nuzzled his way down Xander's torso. The vampire placed a long, loving lick down the straining erection, lapping the precum off the tip.

Xander groaned when his lover suddenly stopped, but before he could protest, his lover handed him a well-used tube of lube.

"You do me," said Spike, rolling over onto his belly.

Dancing flames gave alabaster skin a strange iridescence. Xander stroked his fingers down the lean back, feeling the tiny bumps and ridges of century old scarring. He leaned forward and kissed them gently, running his tongue along the web of whip marks. Spike purred. Xander felt the reverberations and smiled. He moved lower, lightly nipping one taut buttock cheek, drawing the flesh between his teeth. Spike made a strange yowling noise and Xander sank his teeth in a little harder. Spike squirmed and scratched his nails across the stone flags. Xander sat back on his haunches and uncapped the lube. He pressed one slicked finger into his lover. Spike's purr deepened to a low pleasured rumble. "You are such a slut," Xander teased, as Spike rocked back onto his hand.

"Shut up and fuck me," Spike growled, his voice rough with need.

"Yes, master." Xander slipped another finger into his lover's body. He was determined not to rush this. It felt forever since they'd shared this intimacy. He craved it with a desperation that should have frightened him but only fuelled a growing sense of urgency. Spike was so tight; satin muscles gripped his fingers as he thrust slowly in and out, listening to his lover's mewls and moans.

"X-Xander..."

Xander heard the plea in Spike's voice and slipped his fingers out, using them to prepare his own aching flesh. He bit his injured tongue, the sharp pain taking the edge off his arousal. He wanted this to last. He moved to lie over his lover and guided his erection into the tight opening. Spike lay still as he pushed in, millimetre by millimetre. Xander felt the tremors that rippled through his lover's body.

Finally he was buried all the way inside, his whole body flush with Spike's. He rubbed his face against the satin skin, rotating his hips slowly. Spike made a strangled sound and quivered under him. "Good?" Xander whispered.

"A-again," Spike ordered.

Xander moved his hips again and Spike arched his neck back and growled. Xander bit his lip, suddenly back on that knife edge. He stopped moving, trying to hold back, but the need had taken over and he began to thrust deeply, sliding in and out of the tight channel. Spike caught the rhythm and moved with him. Xander felt the pressure building and he drove in even deeper, whimpering with need.

He sank his teeth into Spike's back, feeling them slice bluntly through the vampire's skin. With a shuddering gasp he came, his release tearing through him, spilling hot seed deep into his lover's cool body. Spike instantly thrust back hard and howled his own completion.

Xander barely had time to gather his breath when Spike moved. His softening flesh slipped free as Spike turned them and Xander suddenly found himself under his lover. He cried out as Spike's fangs cut through his skin, plunging into his throat.

His blood answered the vampire's silent summons, hurrying to meet the ivory daggers. Xander could feel tiny scorching rivulets, trickling hotly down his chest. Spent flesh twitched as the threads of renewed arousal snaked through him. He could hear the pounding of his heart, feel the pull of his blood. But there was no flashback, no fear.

Penn had plundered his body, stealing his blood, tearing open his throat. The pain had been unbearable, an ice cold agony that had him screaming in silent terror.

This was white-fire, blistering heat. Liquid magma pooling beneath his skin. Desire and need on a primeval level. The progression of a bond outside human judgement or understanding. Blind instinct carried them, blood and sex the tools of binding. Change carried back and forth, no longer purely vampire and man.

Spike tore free and Xander cried out again at the loss. Exhausted, they huddled together, limbs entwined, wanting to prolong the closeness.

"Lo-love...you," Xander murmured. Spike purred and tenderly lapped the blood from his throat.

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