The SituationBy Esmeralda
Part Sixteen
It was nearly dawn when they re-emerged back out into the woods. No one wanted to return to the mansion, so they drove to a motel outside the town limits. It was a tired looking place, with a tired looking owner, who gave them two keys for two rooms and pointed them across the dusty car park. Spike steered a weary Xander inside their cabin and kicked the door shut behind them.
Angel unlocked the door to the other and rather awkwardly ushered Doyle inside. "You'd better let me take another look at that cut," he called out, disappearing through into the bathroom.
Doyle undid the belt around his arm and slipped off his shirt. He felt a little light-headed and sat down on the end of the bed.
Angel came back out carrying a small medical box. He looked up and suddenly stopped, looking slightly shaken. Doyle frowned at him worriedly and Angel seemed to shake himself, coming forward to kneel beside the bed.
Doyle peered at the gash on his arm. "It's honestly not that bad-"
"-it's nearly bone deep," said Angel, in a tone that brook no argument.
"Well, okay yeah, but its not bleedin' any more," Doyle offered.
Angel wouldn't meet his eyes. The vampire kept his head bowed as he very carefully cleaned the cut and applied a rather inadequate bandage. He regarded his efforts unhappily. "I had something better in my bag-"
"-which you left behind," Doyle finished. "It's okay, man, honest. I'm not much of a bleeder." He was relieved when Angel smiled a little. "I.. er-" he hesitated. "I mean...that is, thanks. " He shrugged. "For coming back for me."
Angel looked taken aback. "You thought I wouldn't?"
"No, no," said Doyle quickly. "I just meant I appreciate it."
Angel's gaze dropped to the carpet. "I'd never leave you," he said softly.
"I know," said Doyle quietly. He wanted to reach out and touch the vampire, but he didn't. "Angel?"
Dark eyes lifted to his.
"I wanted to ask. I mean, what's going on with you and-" he jerked his head toward the room next door.
Angel stood up so quickly Doyle flinched back. The vampire moved away. "I should, um, get cleaned up," he muttered.
For all of three seconds Doyle considered letting him go. Then he jumped up and put himself between the vampire and the bathroom. Angel regarded him unhappily. Doyle steeled himself against the mournful gaze. "Maybe I am overstepping the mark here, but I need to know. It's...This is just about killin' me here. You and Spike, fair enough, but the *boy*?"
"It's comp-"
"Don't even think about saying it," Doyle snarled. He shook his head. "I mean *god*. I thought this curse thing was for real. What, it's got a get out clause or something? You can get fleshy if it's not a girl?" The Irishman's temper was up. He was confused and hurting, and he wanted some answers.
Angel tried to give him some. "I...I don't know. I guess it's because it's not 'perfect' happiness or something. I mean it could be, but it's not." The vampire looked as confused as he sounded. "I do love them," he admitted softly, "but I'm not *in* love with them."
The muscle in Doyle's jaw ticked. "So you've still got that Buffy thing going?"
Angel didn't answer.
"Well, all right. I can understand that. I mean the 'Powers' filled me in and everything." Doyle struggled to keep a hold on his emotions. "But why *them*? I mean if you just needed..." He broke off and looked away, shaking his head. When he turned back to face the vampire his eyes were suspiciously bright. "Am I repulsive or something?"
"W-hat?" Angel stared at him.
"You could have come to me," said Doyle softly. He walked up to the vampire. Reaching out he took hold of Angel's hand, entwining his own fingers around the vampire's cold ones. "Am I such a terrible second choice?" he asked plaintively.
"Oh, god no," Angel's voice cracked. "You're.. you're." He raised his free hand and cupped Doyle's face. "You're not a second choice," he whispered desperately.
Green eyes tightened in confusion.
Angel swallowed hard. "You're my first choice," he confessed. "My only choice." He brushed his thumb across the young man's cheek, watching Doyle's eyes widen with comprehension.
"Me?"
"I love you," said Angel sadly.
Doyle went stone still. Then he blinked rapidly. "You're in love with me?" he repeated slowly.
Angel nodded mutely, his own eyes now bright with unshed tears.
"Then why..." Doyle's voice trailed off bewildered.
"*Because* I'm in love with you," Angel's tone pleaded for Doyle to understand. "I can't...The curse," he said helplessly.
Doyle looked at him, his expression suddenly fierce. "It's not fair," he said in a low voice. "It's not fuckin' fair."
Angel drew him close and for a timeless moment they just held one another. Angel rubbed his cheek against Doyle's hair and closed his eyes, his expression tortured. He started when Doyle suddenly pulled away. "A kiss," said the young man with quiet desperation. "We could have one kiss."
Angel shook his head warily. "Not a good idea."
"Why?" Green eyes pleaded with him. "We're both adults. We have *some* self control. One kiss. That's all. What harm can it do?"
Angel worried his bottom lip with his teeth.
Doyle could see that the vampire was wavering. "Please, Angel." He all but begged, his voice rough with emotion. "One kiss. I....I need that."
Angel didn't say anything but he nodded and Doyle almost sagged with relief. For a moment or two neither of them moved, then very slowly Angel brought his head down and Doyle raised his up to meet him. Their lips brushed lightly, almost chastely. Needing more, Doyle pressed his mouth a little firmer against the vampire's. He let his tongue slip out and steal across the cool satin of Angel's mouth.
That was all it took.
Suddenly Angel was clutching him fiercely; the vampire's lips and tongue plundering his mouth with breathless skill. Doyle wound his fingers through the soft dark hair and drew Angel even closer, matching the vampire's desperate desire with his own fervent assault. Still he needed more and his hands left the vampire's hair to stroke down the muscular back. He tugged the shirt free and slipped his hands underneath it. He moaned into the kiss as he touched Angel's bare skin. It felt beyond wonderful.
Angel trembled and then to Doyle's dismay, he broke the kiss and backed away. "N-no," he stammered. "I...I can't do this." He pushed past a stunned Doyle and ran into the bathroom. The door slammed shut and there was the sound of a bolt sliding into place.
Doyle recovered his wits and rushed over to the door. "Angel, please. Open up. I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He cursed himself. What had he been thinking. Of course Angel couldn't just 'fool around'. He cursed again. This time crying out against the fates that had brought them together only - so it seemed - to add to their personal torment. He sank down onto the floor, leaning back against the door.
He sat there for an hour. When it became obvious that Angel wasn't going to come out while he was still in the room, Doyle picked himself up, put on his shirt, and went out to find something to drink. Maybe this place sold liquor, if not he could hitch a lift to the closest bar. He had a desperate urge to get falling down drunk - and then keep drinking. He hoped he had enough money. It felt like it was going to be a long day.
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Spike led a barely upright Xander into the motel room. He deposited the boy on the bed and quickly drew the curtains; making doubly sure that no sunny beams would be shining through come the morning. Satisfied that he wasn't about to burst into flames any time soon, Spike turned his attention back to the figure now snoring lightly on the bed.
(Not a fuckin' chance) he thought with a wicked grin. He had other plans for Xander Harris, none of which involved snoozing the day away. "Come on, wakey, wakey, pet." He dragged the boy to his feet and lifted him up onto his shoulder. Then he carried Xander through into the bathroom. As motel bathrooms went, this one wasn't bad. The shower was almost clean. Spike kicked the toilet seat shut with his foot and sat Xander down on it.
"Mmmpgh?" Xander mumbled intelligently.
Spike stripped the semi-conscious boy with brisk efficiency and lifted him into the shower cubicle. He toyed with the idea of turning the water to freezing, but since he was in no position to give mouth-to-mouth should the brat's heart stop, he decided against it. Instead he set it to pleasingly hot. He quickly shrugged out of his own clothes - throwing the khaki pants and shirt aside in disgust - then he joined his lover. He picked Xander up off the cubicle floor and held him upright with one hand, while he turned on the water.
"Wha-whaa-" Xander twitched and stiffened as the hot spray struck him.
"It's alright, pet. Just a little clean up," said Spike, reaching for the soap.
"Oh." Xander's expression turned dreamy. "Mmzzat's nice," he mumbled.
Spike rubbed himself against his lover's body. "Hmmm, yesss," he agreed.
Bits of Xander began to wake up as Spike writhed sinuously against him.
"Oh god," he mumbled as the vampire's lips began to nibble along his collar bone. "Don't stop."
Spike had no intention of stopping as his hands glided over Xander's slippery skin. He cupped the boy's buttocks and pulled Xander hard against him. "Want you," he hissed. "Want you *now*."
Turning off the water, they both stumbled out of the shower and into the other room. They fell upon the bed in a tangle of limbs. Spike manoeuvred himself on top and fastened his lips to Xander's left nipple. He suckled on it, flicking his tongue across the hardening bud. Xander arched up into his mouth, murmuring nonsensically. Spike gave the same loving attention to the second nipple, grazing it lightly with his teeth.
"Oh fuck," Xander gasped, clutching the sheets.
Spike kissed his way down Xander's torso, licking, kissing, biting, reducing Xander to a helpless, quivering, wreck.
"Please," he croaked hoarsely. "Plea-eese" His voice rose up as Spike engulfed his straining flesh, cold lips and tongue working it mercilessly. Xander bucked his hips upward, he needed to come so badly it hurt. He
groaned when Spike released him."Turn over." The vampire's voice held an edge of desperation. Xander wriggled over onto his belly. Something cold drizzled over his skin. "Wha-?"
"Hand cream," a roughened voice reassured him. "Found it in there. Someone must've left it."
Xander sent a silent prayer of thanks to the room's last occupant, and then shivered with delight as Spike's skilful fingers slipped between his buttocks. He was soon thrusting back onto the slippery digits as they stretched and opened him. The movement of his hips rubbed his erection against the mattress and he groaned. "Hurry, Spike."
Spike must have heard the urgency in his voice. The vampire eased his fingers free and replaced them with something bigger and much more demanding. Xander muffled his cry into the bedsheets as the vampire thrust into him with one deep stroke. Nothing had ever felt so good. Strong fingers curled around his hips, holding him almost painfully tight. Then Spike began to drive into him, pulling out and pushing in with such force that the bed shook. Xander clutched the edge of the mattress and let the vampire ride him; the heat was already flaring out through his body and he knew he couldn't last much longer. Spike seemed to sense his closeness and the vampire rotated his hips slightly. Xander almost swallowed his tongue. He buried his face further into the musty sheets to stifle his cries as he came, his seed shooting out across his belly.
Spike continued to thrust, then the vampire stiffened and leaned forward. Xander felt a sharp stabbing pain along his right shoulder, followed by a blossoming warmth. He whimpered quietly, but the pain was already fading. Soft sucking sounds reached him and it was with a sort of dazed coherence that he realised Spike was feeding from him. Then the sounds stopped and he felt his lover's fangs sliding back out of his skin.
He was rolled over and kissed hard. Before he could draw more than one ragged breath something else was pressed against his mouth and a low, sibilant voice told him to drink. Xander flicked his tongue out cautiously and a rich coppery tang exploded across his tastebuds - Spike's blood. Without thinking, Xander fastened his mouth to the jagged tear the vampire had opened in his arm, drinking eagerly - until Spike pushed him away.
"That's enough, pet. Just a taste, remember. No more. It's too dangerous."
Xander blinked dazedly, swirling his tongue around his mouth to capture the last few drops. He looked up into his lover's face and reached up to touch the ridges around the yellow eyes. "I love you," he said fervently. Spike took hold of his hand and kissed each of his fingers in turn, showing each an aching tenderness.
Xander smiled. Who needed wordy declarations. He could get all the assurances he'd ever need simply by looking into Spike's fathomless gaze. He snuggled closer to his lover.
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Spike drew the bedsheets around them and wrapped himself around Xander, draping a leg across the boy's and circling his arm around Xander's chest. He heard a bang as a door slammed. He frowned and then shrugged, it was none of his business. However, as Xander slept he remained awake, staring thoughtfully at the discoloured ceiling.
Part SeventeenThe last warm blush of sunset had faded and the first dark bloom of night was creeping in. A disgruntled Spike and a bone-weary Xander stood outside Doyle and Angel's cabin, knocking furiously on the cheap wooden door.
"Come on you bleedin' nancy, some of us want to get out of this place before mornin'."
Xander listened to his lover rant and leaned against the wall. He had spent much of the day in, under, or on top of Spike, and it was all he could do to remain upright. "Maybe he's gone to get the car," he mumbled sleepily.
Spike shot him a disgusted look. "The car," he said, jabbing his finger at it, "is right there." The vampire turned back to glare at the door balefully. "The bleedin' poof is still in 'ere." He hammered again - the entire row of cabins shook with the force of his blows.
Xander glanced, bleary-eyed, behind him; sure enough Angel's car was still parked - with no sign whatsoever of Angel. Immediately Xander was wide awake. "Do you think they're okay?" he asked worriedly.
Spike shrugged. "They had a barney earlier. It's been pretty quiet since."
"A what?"
"A barney, a row, a set-to..."
"What about?"
Spike was silent for a moment. "Angel told the mick he loved him."
Xander's eyebrows shot up to his hairline. "Woah."
"Yeah, woah," Spike muttered.
"So what?" Xander frowned. "Doyle loves him, what's the problem."
"The *problem* you pillock, is the little matter of a Gypsy curse." Spike rolled his eyes upward. "He falls in love, he has a fuck and 'phumph' he's all bleedin' Angelussy."
Xander suppressed a shudder. "Not good."
Spike tried to look indifferent, he failed. The vampire kicked the door in annoyance. "I told the prick to get it fixed. Does he ever listen to me? Oh no. He has to be all bleedin' noble and romantic about it. Tortured hero my arse. Great bloody suffering pillock is more like it."
Xander grabbed Spike's arm to draw his attention away from the unfortunate door. "Fix? As in the curse? He can do that?"
Spike yanked free and wandered away from the door a little, looking out across the tiny car-park. He shoved his hands into his pockets and scuffed the dirt with his toe. "Curses aren't set in stone, pet. They can be broken or tampered with. Given the know-how you can do all sorts of fun things with 'em." He jerked his head toward the cabin door. "Angel knows a thing or two about mojo, he's tinkered with all sorts of bloody stuff in his time."
"So he could break his curse?" Xander sounded both hopeful and incredulous.
Spike screwed his face up. "Not break it. Gypsy curses are a bit unpredictable, but he could mess with it a bit."
"Like how?"
The vampire shrugged. "Make it so his soul is a permanent feature, so he can be all broody for eternity."
Xander moved quickly to stand in front of his lover. "So why doesn't he? He can fix himself, but he hasn't? That's...that's just nuts."
Spike regarded him patiently. "He hasn't fixed it because he thinks he deserves every minute of misery the soddin' thing inflicts upon him." The vampire shook his head. "Don't ask me to understand it, but he doesn't *want* to fix it. It'd be like him breakin' out of jail or something before his sentence is up."
Brown eyes looked past the vampire to stare sympathetically at the closed cabin door. "Boy, he really takes this tortured-guy-thing seriously, doesn't he."
"He's a complete wanker about it," Spike agreed. "Though to be fair to the git, there's a little more to it."
Xander looked at him. "Like what?"
"If he messes around with his curse and it goes wrong, he could be Angelus for good."
Xander's eyes widened. "You mean-"
"He'd lose his soul permanently. No amount of cursing would stick it back."
The expression on Xander's face said it all - that sucked - major big time.
"He told the mick, and then the stupid fuck got all angst-ridden about it. He's been in there all bloody day, moping."
"What about Doyle?"
"He's not in there. Probably went of to get snockered."
"Huh?"
"Drunk."
"Oh." Xander suddenly looked alarmed. "*Oh*," he repeated. "Not good. We're still pretty close to Sunnydale. What if Riley's friends don't see a difference?"
The words had barely left his mouth, when the door behind them and a dishevelled, haggard Angel looked out. "Doyle. Where is he?"
Spike regarded his Sire coolly. "*We* was just wondering that."
Angel stepped forward, a touch unsteadily.
Xander watched him with concern. "Are you okay? I mean you look kinda pale. Well, paler than usual that is."
"He hasn't fed," said Spike. "We'll have to pick you up a late night snack, mate."
Xander felt a cold shiver pass through him at the vampire's words. All this time he had forgotten that, to all intents and purposes, Spike's cold-blooded killer status was now fully restored. He pushed the unwelcome thought to the back of his mind. They could talk about that later, when they had that 'little chat' Spike had promised him.
For now they had more pressing matters to deal with - like where the hell was Doyle? "I'll go speak to the manager," he offered. "Maybe he knows something." Xander sprinted off toward the manager's office.
Spike watched him go and then glanced sideways at Angel. "We've only just found the brat, and you've lost him already?" He shook his head. "You need to be more careful with your things, mate."
Angel's stare could have frozen molten lava. "I am not your *mate*," he hissed in a low, shaky voice, "and either you speak of him with respect, or you don't mention him at all. Got that?"
Spike lowered his gaze sullenly and mumbled an affirmative.
Angel stalked past his recalcitrant Childe heading after Xander. After a moment or two Spike stomped after him, muttering furiously under his non-existent breath.
Xander was just coming out of the office as the vampires reached it.
"Doyle was in earlier. He wanted to know the whereabouts of the nearest bar. The guy in there says he thinks Doyle hitched a lift with some trucker."
Angel closed his eyes as if in pain. The other two watched him worriedly. He re-opened them and turned toward the car. "We wait," he said brusquely, walking off.
"Wait?" Xander echoed, hurrying to catch up with the vampire. "Don't you want to look for him?"
Angel stopped and looked at the boy. His gaze was desperate. "Yes, I want to look for him. But we have no clear idea of where he's gone. We could go looking and in the mean time he could come back here." The vampire started walking again. "He knows were heading back after nightfall. We wait."
"Not trying to argue with your logic or anything, peaches, but it's already after nightfall."
Spike was ignored. Angel got into his car, slammed the door shut and sat, staring out the windscreen blankly. Spike and Xander exchanged an 'oh oh' look and went to sit on the boot. The vampire went through his pockets and growled. "Bloody thieving gits. They took me smokes."
Xander smiled and reached into his own pocket. He handed the vampire a rather crumpled packet of cigarettes. "Be prepared, that's my motto," he said.
Spike gave a quiet whoop and kissed him before snatching the packet. "What about a-" Xander handed him a slender lighter. Spike grinned and lit up a cigarette, taking a long hard drag he blew the smoke out into the night air. His grin widened and he made a contended sound.
Xander regarded him with a fond shake of his head. "You know you stink."
"Huh?" Spike frowned.
Xander smiled to soften his words. "That *stuff* whatever it is." He pointed at the yellow stains on Spike's shirt and pants. "You never did tell me-"
"-Locksaw," said Spike taking another drag on his cigarette. "Soddin' stuff gets everywhere."
"You saved my life," said Xander softly.
Spike shrugged dismissively. "You saved my neck, I was just repaying the favour."
Xander wasn't remotely fooled but he pretended to swallow the act. "Oh," he said in a small voice. "So...I mean...You didn't really care. That is, if I had died?" He interjected a slight wobble on the last word. The next thing he knew he was flat on his back across the car boot.
"Never even think it," Spike growled, pressing down hard upon him.
Xander smiled. "Didn't," he admitted.
Gold-tinged eyes widened. "You bastard." Spike sounded surprised. "What's the idea of winding me up?"
Xander's gaze sidled away a little and his fingers fiddled with the leather duster. "Well you're not exactly 'Mr-let-me-tell-you-how-I-feel'," he complained softly. "If I can't have the words, I at least like to see it in your face."
"My face?" Spike snarled and his features shimmered. With effort he pushed them back into their human guise. "Stupid brat. Doesn't the fact that I'm here and you're here, and you're still breathin', tell you anything?"
Xander nibbled his lip unhappily. "I guess," he said.
Spike spared him a long suffering look, then he kissed him gently. "I can say the words if you like." Spike pushed back a lock of dark hair. "I William the Bloody do solemnly declare that I love one Xander Harris, former no hoper and long time high school loser. How's that?" Despite the slightly mocking tone, there was no mistaking the sincerity in the vampire's eyes.
"That'll do," said Xander. They shared another long tender kiss.
This one went on a little longer and Spike manoeuvred himself to cover Xander's body more thoroughly.
When the kiss finally ended, Xander regarded his lover intently. "No hoper?" he whispered softly. Spike bit the end of his nose. "Ow. What was that for?"
Spike gave him a wolfish grin. "First off, I said *former* no hoper. Second, only I'm allowed to bad mouth you. Any one else says something, and they'll have to answer to me." He kissed the injured spot. "That includes you, pet."
"Oh, so now I can't say anything against myself?" Xander was smiling.
"Not one word." Spike's expression turned oddly tender. "You have to stop seeing yourself like the rest of those gits do. I know the real Xander Harris. The one who fights and fucks like a demon. *Trust me*."
Strange words, coming from a vampire. However, Xander simply nodded. "Call me crazy, but I do."
"Good," said Spike. "That's a start." He rolled off and retrieved his cigarette from where he thrown it in the gravel. He sucked on it a couple of time to get it going again and then sat back on the boot. His gaze narrowed suddenly. "Well, look who's finally turned up."
Xander followed the vampire's gaze out across the car park. A large truck had just pulled up. The door opened and a slight figure clambered out. It was Doyle. The half-demon practically slithered to the ground and stood swaying alarmingly. Xander's eyes widened. "He's-"
"-Yep," said Spike, sliding forward. "He's hammered."
The two hurried across to reach the half demon, who turned slowly to greet them. "Oh izzst you," Doyle slurred. "Blondie and brat-boy."
Spike glared in amused annoyance. "Some one can't handle his drink," he taunted.
"Me-me?" said Doyle, thumping his chest vigorously. He coughed. "I can handle any...any'ting." He poked a slender finger into the vampire's chest. "I could-could.. drink you unzder any table anyzwhere." He flung his arm out for emphasis.
Xander ducked to avoid being struck by the flailing limb. "We'd better get you in the car," he said, trying to take hold of the young man - who shook him off.
"Like this?" Spike asked. "He'll either chuck all over his highnesses' leather interior or else he'll babble annoyingly for hours."
"A-Angel," Doyle murmured. "Lovez...no's I hates the bastard..."
Spike rolled his eyes. "See."
"So what do you want to do?" Xander hissed. "We can't just pretend he hasn't shown and he's not going to sober up any time soon."
Doyle was peering, somewhat cross-eyed, at Spike. "Noz fair," he muttered. "Yuz both get to haz 'im." Suddenly he took a wild swing at the vampire, who stepped back, avoiding the blow easily. Doyle's momentum carried him around almost in a complete circle; whereupon his legs wobbled, and he
collapsed face down in the dirt.""Oh, very manly, pet," said Spike.
"Great," said Xander struggling to lift the half-demon, who was surprisingly heavy. "Now what?"
"I'll take him," said a soft voice. They both turned as Angel crouched down beside his unconscious friend. With the utmost care he picked the young man up and carried him back to the car. Spike and Xander followed.
"Xander, get in the back." Xander hastened to obey and assisted Angel as the vampire gently eased Doyle in with him. "Keep an eye on him," Angel whispered softly. Xander nodded, cradling Doyle's head on his lap.
"Spike, you're in the front with me. Don't touch the radio," Angel warned. Spike cursed, threw away the stub of his cigarette, and flung himself heavily into the passenger seat. "And keep your boots off the dash board," Angel added.
Spike pulled a face, but did as he was told.
Part EighteenDoyle was still completely out of it when Angel carried him down into the basement apartment and gently laid him on the bed. Spike and Xander made a tactful retreat into the kitchen. At least, with the latter it was tact, Spike was just looking for something to eat.
The blond vampire wrinkled his nose as he sniffed the blood from the refrigerator. "Soddin' cow," he snarled in disgust. Despite his obvious disdain for all things bovine, he nevertheless guzzled down the contents and went back to rummage around for seconds.
Xander wandered through into the main room; he couldn't help but sneak a glance toward the bedroom. Angel was removing Doyle's shoes. Xander took one look at the expression on the vampire's face and sighed heavily.
"What's up?"
Xander jumped. "Can you *not* to that," he grumbled, glaring at an unrepentant Spike. "I've just spent an evening playing tag with giant demon dogs. My heart's had about all it can take in the shock-stakes."
Spike shrugged and took another slurp from the packet of blood he was holding. He looked past Xander toward his Sire. "Brood boy's putting in for overtime I see."
"He loves him," said Xander softly.
Spike shot his lover a 'well duh' look. "I may not be Mr Sensitivity, pet, but even I can see that."
"What can we do?" Xander asked desperately.
"Do?" Spike sat down on the couch. "Nothing. He's cursed and that's that. End of story."
Xander sat down next to him. "No it's not. You said-"
"-I said he could fix it. Maybe," said Spike. "But he won't."
Pleading brown eyes turned on the vampire. "You could-"
Spike cut him off again. "-I've tried, luv. He won't listen to me." The vampire looked vaguely disgruntled. "He never has."
Xander frowned. "Maybe that's because you..." He stopped when Spike stared meaningfully at him. Xander back-pedalled. "I mean maybe it's just because it needs a less...er...abrasive approach," he said tactfully.
Spike regarded him thoughtfully. "Maybe."
"Could you-" Xander motioned upstairs. He wasn't sure he could do this with an audience.
"Make myself scarce?" asked Spike. To Xander's surprise the vampire got up without protest. He was even more surprised when Spike gave him a strange smile and said, "If anyone can talk some sense into the pillock, you probably can. Go easy on him though eh, pet. He's a sensitive lamb really." With that, Spike turned and went back up the stairs.
Leaving an open mouthed Xander sitting on the couch. "Curiouser and curiouser," he muttered. He stood and walked toward the bedroom. Angel was just coming out - they met in the doorway. Feeling awkward, Xander shoved his hands into his pockets and shuffled his feet, stepping from one to the other. "Is.. erm he okay?" he asked quietly.
Angel nodded distractedly.
"Angel?"
The vampire focused on him.
"Can.. can we talk?" Xander asked shyly.
Angel frowned, but he nodded. "I just need to..." His voice trailed off and he glanced toward the kitchen.
Xander understood. "Oh, right. Sure." He followed Angel through into the other room, sitting down at the table while the vampire went over to the fridge. He traced patterns in the woodwork with his finger, trying to work out what on earth he was going to say.
Angel kept his back turned as he fed, as though he was uncomfortable being watched.
Xander picked up on it. "Do you want me to go away for a bit while you.. erm.. finish off?" he asked softly.
Angel turned around quickly. "What?" He looked startled. "No.. no.. It's all right." Blood stained his fangs and lips. Xander stared, strangely fascinated. Angel grabbed up a towel and wiped his mouth, then he sat
down.Xander was slightly unsettled by the glowing eyes and he was relieved when Angel's face shimmered, slipping into its human mask. (Okay, where do I start?) "I.. er..was talking to Spike. He was telling me about your curse. How you could fix it, but you won't on account of you thinking that you deserve all this misery shit." He sucked in a deep breath and berated himself silently (Could I *be* any less subtle).
"And the point you're making is?"
Something about the vampire's icily polite tone pissed Xander off. "This is nuts." He clutched the sides of the table and leaned forward. "You love that guy in there, but because you think you need to be punished you're willing to let him suffer along with you." Xander shook his head. "I mean, I may not be the brightest kid on the block, but that doesn't sound like the sort of behaviour that's gonna be earning you many merit points."
He saw that he had rattled Angel's composure slightly and he pressed on. "So you, or rather 'evil you' did a lot of bad stuff back in the bad olde days. You're repenting."
"It's not enough," said Angel hoarsely. "You don't know what I-"
Xander cut him off. "-No I don't, and to be honest, I really don't need the visual play-back. You want to jog down memory lane every five minutes, fine. The rest of us screw up too, but our lives our too short for us to sit around crying about it." His expression softened. "Angel, we *know* you did the evil-thing, but that was when you were evil. Now you're not, and you're fighting for the forces of good. Even Darth Vader got a break eventually." He frowned, "Of course he died."
Angel looked nonplussed. "Who?"
"It doesn't matter," said Xander. "The point is, I don't think any one is gonna mind if you take some back. Have a bit of a 'happy' so-to-speak."
"Xander-"
"Just let me say my piece, okay. Then you can tell me to get lost." Xander drew in another deep breath and took the plunge. "It seems to me that this curse was meant to make you regret all the bad stuff you'd done. To make you feel guilty and, well, basically like crap for the rest of eternity. Right?"
Angel nodded cautiously.
"So, job accomplished. You feel like shit. Being in love and having some fun is not going to suddenly erase two hundred plus years of accumulative guilt, am I right?"
Another, slightly more definite, nod.
Xander stood up, placing both palms flat on the table. He looked down at the vampire and fixed him with a hard stare. "Love isn't easy. Haven't you learned that yet. Sometimes you have to fight for it and sometimes you have to give up stuff for it. But it's all worth it when you do."
Xander lowered his voice. "I...I know there's a chance if you mess with your curse things could go bad - *really* bad." Brown eyes reflected sorrow and desperation. "Surely there's *someway* of making sure that doesn't happen?" Angel didn't answer him and Xander sighed heavily. "I guess I just think that you owe it to yourself and that guy in there to at least try."
He stepped back. "Okay, you can yell at me now."
"Is that what usually happens?" Angel asked gently.
"Huh?"
"You give your opinion and you then get shouted at."
Xander gave a slightly sheepish shrug and slipped his hands back into his pockets. "Actually I don't usually get to say anything, and when I do, mostly no one listens."
"They should," said Angel softly. "You're a wise man, Xander Harris."
"That's me," Xander joked nervously. "'Mr Perceptive guy'."
Angel cocked an eyebrow at him.
Xander explained. "That's what Spike said, once."
Angel nodded, understanding. "He's right." The vampire stood up slowly. "But then he often is."
"Maybe you should think about telling *him* that," Xander muttered. He flushed when Angel looked at him sharply. "Just something else Spike said," he added.
"He thinks I never listen to him." Angel guessed.
Xander pulled a face. "How can you guys be so smart and so *dumb*." He realised what he'd said and his blush deepened several shades. "Open mouth and insert foot," he mumbled.
Angel just smiled gently. "It's okay. You're right." He shrugged. "Age and wisdom don't necessarily come hand in hand."
"Tell my parents that, and my teachers and - oh, pretty much everyone I've ever met over eighteen."
"They think they're wise?"
"They think I'm dumb."
"You're not dumb, Xander. Far from it." Angel came around the table to stand by him. He tucked a thick, dark curl back behind Xander's ear. "Spike's lucky to have you."
"I'm lucky to have him," Xander rejoined quickly.
"Hmm." Angel seemed to take a moment to think it over. "I guess you are," he agreed finally.
"What are you going to do?" Xander asked.
"Do?" Angel looked toward the bedroom. "I'm going to think about it," he said quietly.
"You'll talk to Doyle?"
Angel touched Xander's cheek softly. "Yes, I'll talk to Doyle. Now go and find Spike. Keep him from wreaking havoc in my office until I can come up there."
Xander flashed him a quick grin and darted away.
Angel walked through into the bedroom. He pulled out a chair and sat facing the bed. He had a lot to think about.
--------------------
An hour later and Angel's thoughts were still in turmoil.
Memories and regrets swirled through his mind as he watched Doyle sleeping off his drunken stupor. He still wondered at the strange twist of fate that had brought the young man into his world.
From the moment they had first met, Doyle had accepted his past and his vampiric nature with an ease that still baffled him. Okay, so Doyle had his own demon aspect, and he'd clearly seen enough of the world to understand the many shades of grey that coloured it. Even then, Angel could never recall any one being so at ease in his company before. Not since...
Buffy.
Her name still caused a stab of pain to slice through his unbeating heart. He could bring her face in picture perfect detail into his mind. He loved her. Some part of him would always love her. Nevertheless, he knew he had been right to leave her.
The first time he had set eyes upon her she was sat in the sunlight - fifteen years old - she'd seemed so....small; so vulnerable. He'd thought of all the evil she would have to face and he had wanted to guard her from it. To protect her from the horrors that would ravage her innocence and put haunted shadows behind those shining eyes.
Instead he had become one of those shadows, one of the scars that she would carry through her life. His mouth twisted bitterly. He should have known better. How could a creature such as himself, condemned to walk in darkness, protect a young woman fashioned to be the guardian of light. Soul or no soul, they were polar opposites.
She was the Slayer. He was a vampire. No curse could alter that.
Their inherent natures cried out against their union. Love and friendship warred with deeply buried instincts. Trust was a fragile bond between them. One which he had shattered when he had taken her innocence and returned to wreak havoc upon her and all that she held dear.
In her heart she had forgiven him and he knew that part of her loved him still. However, he could not reclaim the shadows from her eyes. No amount of hoping or wishing could breathe life back into Jenny Calendar; or the countless other victims he had claimed. It had been too hard to stay.
Impossible to face the fear behind the polite masks and stilted pleasantries.
He was once again banished to the realm of the outsider. An unwelcome outcast amongst a circle of friends.
The wisdom of motherhood had been unnecessary. He hadn't needed the words of Joyce Summers to tell him that his love for Buffy was doomed. He had known it from the first moment. He just hadn't been able to fight against it. It had been so long since he had experienced the closeness of a living human being....of any creature. He had craved companionship and affection almost more than the blood that sustained him.
Buffy had let him glimpse the light again, and for a while he had been warmed by it. However, it was an illusion, a myth, a love that could never be. Reality had warped and twisted and crushed it.
He had run.
She had known. He'd seen in it those haunted eyes. She'd known that he was running away - from it, from her, from the pain that he had visited upon them.
He had run here. To L.A., the city of Angels. Seeking what? Redemption? Perhaps. Or maybe he'd simply sought to put the past where it could no longer reach him. He was tired of hurting. Sometimes he wanted to walk up onto the rooftop and greet the sunrise, let it all end. He'd lived too long. He'd seen too much. He'd done too much. How could he ever repay the evil he had wrought about him?
Yet he didn't. Something held him back. In part it was the knowledge that his death would bring no peace to those he'd slaughtered. If he was cast back into Hell he could save no more souls - those that resided there were already lost. Here at least he could do some good, make some recompense, however small.
A soft moan from the bed brought his attention back. Angel let his gaze linger upon the man that had become so important to him. He looked at Doyle's face - now in it's human aspect - delicate features; too strong to be pretty, not conventionally handsome, utterly captivating.
Skin, almost as pale as his own, covered high, wide cheekbones. A sharp face, dominated by vivid green eyes and a wry smile beneath short, tousled hair. His slight build belayed his strength and determination; Doyle was a force to be reckoned with - courageous in spite of his fears, loyal without boundaries or hesitations.
(I love him) Angel thought desperately. Okay, he already knew this. So what did he want to do about it. Did he really want to risk playing around with an age old Gypsy curse? <*Yes*> His mind cried back. (Gods *yes*!)
It wasn't the first time he had been so tempted. When he had returned from Hell, and had come to realise the true nature of his curse - that contentment, *true* happiness would condemn him - he had sought to change it. Not for himself, but for fear of those around him. How could he stay amongst them if to fall meant destroying their lives as well as his own miserable existence.
He had researched quietly and alone, telling no one, not even Buffy. Eventually, he thought he'd found what he needed. Yet, still he had hesitated. If he worked the spell wrong, there was a chance he could again become Angelus, and if he worked the spell right.....?
He had spent centuries in Hell, submitted to tortures beyond human comprehension. He had never expected to leave. Nevertheless, he had made a promise - while he was still in possession of his wits - he had vowed that he would never again bring betrayal and devastation into Buffy's life. He would stay away. He would leave Sunnydale.
Promises which had crumbled into dust when he knelt at her feet and pressed his face to her warm body. The familiar beat of her heart, the sweet smell of her skin, had broken him. He had sobbed like a child, clinging to her, as she stood frozen.
So he had stayed, but he had remembered his vow and it had stopped him trying to change his curse. That wasn't the answer. He knew he had to leave. It had taken time to find the strength. Without the curse in full effect, he knew he would never have been able to let her go.
Now? Now things were different. He had changed. He had moved beyond the monster he had been, and the down-and-out he had become after the curse. His time in Sunnydale had been a sort of painful adolescence as he had relearned how to 'live' amongst humans. His relationship with Buffy had, in many ways, been that incredible, overwhelming - 'first love' - all consuming in its intensity.
He had struggled past those first awkward, painful steps. Now his life had new direction, an individual purpose. He even had his own circle of friends. Admittedly it was a very small circle, but they were *his* friends, Doyle, Cordelia, Xander - the corners of his mouth turned up slightly - even his wayward Childe had returned to the fold.
He no longer simply existed...he had a 'life'....so-to-speak.
Doyle was very different from Buffy and not just in terms of gender. The young man bore his own brand of world-weary cynicism. Buffy, for all the brutality of her life, retained a youthful naivety that had often made him feel every one of his two hundred plus years...and then some. He had never been able to shake the feeling that he was an intruder in her world, balancing on the fringes of her life.
He and Doyle were different, they were a team, partnered by The Powers That Be, their lives were connected. The underlying conflict that had put continuous pressure on his relationship with Buffy wasn't present. They also shared the common bond of blood - they were both part of another world, one inhabited by demons and darkness. Buffy was a hunter in that world, an outsider operating within it; still human despite her abilities. All these threads bound them, was it so inconceivable to think that The Powers had intended it this way. Doyle's visions, his warrior skills - they complemented one another.
Perhaps he was meant to take this next step. Surely if he wasn't The Powers would intercede, as they had done once before when he'd sat upon a lonely hill top, waiting for the sun to rise.
Angel sat forward, chewing his bottom lip. It would be better if he could be certain. Could it hurt to ask? The Oracles were finicky and unpredictable - but they were also brutally honest....in a cryptic sort of way.
He continued to worry his lip incessantly. Was Xander right? Was love worth the risk? Angel stood and walked over to the bed, staring down at the oblivious figure stretched across it. He already had this man's friendship, dare he ask for anymore? Did he even deserve what he already had?
Another soft moan interrupted his thoughts. Doyle was waking up. Time to decide. Angel went through into the kitchen; he collected a glass of water and two pain-killers. Then he went back into the bedroom and waited by the bed, watching as dark lashes slowly fluttered open to reveal a pair of bleary green eyes.
Part NineteenDoyle moved his head slightly and bit back another moan. The pounding between his temples wasn't letting up any. If anything, the mind numbing, bone crunching pain was getting worse. It was like having a vision without the sickening rush of images.
His senses were screaming at him, telling him he wasn't alone wherever he was. Warily, and with some reluctance he forced his eyelids open. His brow creased with concentration as he struggled to bring the blurred image into focus. Gradually the drawn, worried face of Angel came into view.
Doyle managed a weak, "Hey," and a smile that was more of a grimace. Angel didn't say anything - silently holding out two pain killers and a glass of water. Doyle took them with a grateful, "Thanks." Sitting up made his stomach churn. Bile burned the back of his throat and he hastily gulped down the water.
Angel took back the empty glass and moved away, still without saying a word. The vampire exited the bedroom and Doyle felt a flutter of unease.
"Angel?" His call met with silence and he tried to stand; the room tilted on its axis, spinning violently. He closed his eyes as a wave of nausea swelled up.
"Steady. I've got you. Okay, now sit down. Take it slow. Now put your legs up, that's it..." The soft voice was accompanied by strong hands that gently guided him back onto the bed. "Better?" Angel asked.
Doyle heard the anxiety in the vampire's voice and made an effort to answer. "Uhuh," he said faintly; words were not currently a possibility. He kept his eyes closed until he was certain that the world had stopped spinning. When he re-opened them Angel was sitting on the edge of the bed.
"Maybe you shouldn't try moving around for a while," Angel suggested.
"Yer think," said Doyle. Seeing Angel's expression, he offered the vampire a wry smile. "Just gimme a minute or two. I'll be fine." Angel looked dubious. "Honest," Doyle continued, "I've had lots of practice at this. I'm a fun loving guy remember. I go out, I drink, I suffer, I sober up and then I get drunk again." Bitterness coloured his words. Angel regarded him with a steady, unblinking gaze.
Doyle took a deep breath. "I don't know what to say." He shook his head in a 'lost' manner. "I'm so sorry, you know, for earlier."
Angel looked uncomfortable. "It wasn't you. It was me, I....I lost control...."
"Yeah, well, that's understandable. What, with me being so irresistible an' all," said Doyle. The teasing glint in his eyes didn't quite hide the sadness. However, he succeeded in his goal as Angel relaxed a fraction. "So, we're okay, yeah?" Doyle asked.
"We're okay," said Angel softly.
Doyle released a shaky breath. "Well that's good, you know. Cos jobs in my line of work ain't easy to find." Angel frowned and Doyle gave him an embarrassed grin. "I'm jokin'" he explained. "I'm tryin' to dig my way out from under this mountain of mortification that's tryin' to crush me."
Angel nodded distantly. He opened his mouth as if to say something, then he closed it again. After a few seconds silence he made another attempt. "I...I have to ask you something."
"Fire away," said Doyle, trying to hide the twitching panic he felt.
"How do you feel. I mean about me?" Angel asked quietly.
Doyle's eyes widened in surprised dismay. "Oh man, do you really need to ask?" Stunned, he reached for Angel's hand without thinking. "I.....You're..." He took a second to gather himself. "You're the most important thing in my life." He felt the cold fingers under his own twitch slightly as he spoke and he went to pull his hand back, but Angel caught hold of it.
The vampire turned it over, studying Doyle's palm intently. "Do you love me?"
Doyle felt his heart quicken. "Yes," he said simply, "I love you."
Angel looked up; Doyle was troubled by what he saw in that haunted gaze. "What?" he asked desperately. "I'm sorry if that's not what you wanted to hear. I thought you wanted me to be honest. I can't help how I feel-"
Angel cut in "-what about Cordelia?"
Doyle blinked. "Cordy?"
"You love her." It wasn't quite an accusation.
Doyle frowned. "Yeah, I do." This time it was Angel who tried to pull his hand away and Doyle who held onto it. "As a friend," he continued. "Me and her, we've talked. We've worked past the whole would-be relationship thing. She knows I'm attracted to you," he admitted.
Angel looked taken aback by that piece of news. "She-she does?"
Doyle nodded. "A while back I kinda confessed that the whole 'dark, mysterious handsome bit' really did something for me." He offered the vampire another slightly teasing grin, one tinged with embarrassment.
If vampire's were capable of blushing, Doyle swore that Angel would have. As it was the vampire simply squirmed slightly; a not wholly displeased look upon his face.
Doyle opened his mouth to add something and stopped as cold hard reality suddenly kicked in. This couldn't happen. He and Angel couldn't indulge in a bit of 'harmless flirtation'....because for them, there was no such thing. Time to back off. He let go of Angel's hand and sank back into the pillows. "So," he asked breezily. "Where's the dynamic duo?"
Apparently Angel had no trouble deciphering who he meant, even if the abrupt change in conversation left him somewhat bewildered. "Upstairs, probably trashing the office."
"Oh." Doyle forced himself to smile, interjecting a sliver of false cheer into his voice. "Best get up there then and sort 'em out."
"Doyle-?"
"I'll be fine, go ahead." Doyle closed his eyes and willed Angel to go away. The silence stretched out painfully. He could feel Angel's solid presence beside him and he struggled to keep his eyes shut. He jumped when a cold hand touched his cheek and his eyes flew open.
Angel was regarding him with an expression equal parts tender sorrow and heated desire.
Doyle swallowed hard. "This is not a good idea-" He stopped as Angel's fingers caressed his throat. "Please, Angel, d-don't." his voice broke and he was both relieved and disappointed when the vampire withdrew his hand.
"I can change my curse."
The words, so bluntly spoken, in that quiet matter-of-fact tone, almost washed over Doyle. "W-what?" he stammered.
Angel bit his lip and glanced away before meeting Doyle's wide-eyed stare. "I can try to alter my curse, remove the 'happiness clause'."
Doyle's head was spinning. <Happiness? Curse? Remove? *Oh god*, they could-> He reached out blindly and Angel grabbed his hand. "But, I mean how? I mean when...Why haven't you?"
"There's a risk," Angel explained softly. "A chance that I could lose my soul, permanently."
Doyle's chest tightened painfully, suddenly it was hard to breathe. He sat, drawing up his knees, leaning against them. "Permanently? You mean-"
"-I'd be Angelus forever," said Angel flatly.
Green eyes squeezed shut as an expression of pain crossed Doyle's face. This wasn't happening. It was some drink induced nightmare, it had to be. His mind was torturing him - 'Hey, you can have your hearts desire....but wait! There's one tiny little snag - you could wind up with Angelus, scourge of Europe and all round evil bastard.'
He opened his eyes. "What...what are the odds?" The fingers around his own tightened.
"About 60/40."
The muscles in Doyle's jaw clenched hard enough to hurt. "For or against?"
"For."
Okay, better than even odds and the balance swung in their favour, but still, if this had been a horse he would have saved his money for the next race. "You a bettin' man?" he asked. His expression was torn between fear and hope.
Angel's expression was unreadable. "Sometimes."
The vampire began to rub his thumb over Doyle's wrist in small circular motions. A look of intense longing stole across the younger man's face. Then he yanked his hand free, shuttering his gaze. "No. It's too big a risk." His eyes pleaded for Angel to understand. "I can't lose you...I can't. If you become him...." Tears roughened his voice. He blinked them back angrily - he hadn't cried for years, he wouldn't now.
"I know, I know, "Angel murmured. The vampire took hold of Doyle's arms in a 'not-quite-embrace'. "It's just...I don't think I can keep going like this." Angel's voice shook with the strength of his emotions.
Doyle broke free and he scrambled off the bed, standing at the opposite side to the vampire. He swayed and leaned against the wall for support. "What the hell are yer saying? That you want'ta end it all? Suicide? Is that what yer tellin' me?" Green eyes filled with anger and horror.
Angel shook his head. "Doyle, I'm already dead-"
"No!" Doyle shook his head fiercely. "I've seen my share of dead guys. They aren't half so nimble on their feet. You aren't dead. You're.. you're.."
"Undead," Angel finished softly. "I'm the undead."
Doyle put his hands over his ears. "I am *not* listenin' to this." He spoke through gritted teeth. "You want to get all maudlin, fine. But I don't care what you say. You are *not* just some animated corpse and I won't think of you that way." His demonic features suddenly took hold as he lost control and he shook himself - trying desperately to dispel the stubby spines. After a few seconds he succeeded.
Angel had already got up and moved around the bed. He took the younger man into his arms. Doyle resisted briefly then sagged against the him, resting his forehead against Angel's shoulder.
"I only meant I need you," said Angel fervently. "I need *this*. I....I don't know if I can stop myself from wanting you and I don't want to leave-"
Doyle's head lifted sharply. "Leave?"
A silent tear tracked down Angel's cheek. "How can I stay?" he pleaded. "How can I share so much with you and not want it all." He raised one hand to cup the side of Doyle's face. "I'd weaken. I'd take what I want and damn us both to Hell."
Regardless of his promise, Doyle felt his own tears scalding his eyes. In silent despair they tricked down his face. "I know," he whispered brokenly and lay his head back against the vampire. They stood, holding one another, trying to offer what little comfort they could. Eventually, Doyle felt calm enough to speak. "So, we try?" he asked hoarsely.
Angel hesitated. "I want to speak with the Oracles."
Doyle tensed. "Why? I don't know if that's such a good idea. They're contrary creatures. They might say against us out of spite."
"I know," said Angel, "but I need to ask."
Doyle understood. There was too much riding on this for them to act arbitrarily. Their own selfish needs, however powerful and demanding, were secondary to the cause they were both bound to serve. "Okay, but I'll come with yer." It wasn't open for discussion.
There was still something else to be dragged into the open. "What if...." He couldn't bring himself to say it.
"I become Angelus?"
Doyle nodded.
"Then one of you will have to stake me." Angel's voice was eerily calm.
Doyle's was anything but, even though he'd guessed what the vampire would say. "I couldn't," he shook his head appalled. "Please, Angel, don't ask me-"
"-your promise," said Angel. "If I'm going to do this, I must have your promise, and Spike's and Xander's." His gaze softened upon Doyle's distress. "I can't risk...I can't be...Not again." His eyes said it all - to be Angelus was worse than eternal death.
"If one of you can't give me your word, then we don't do this." Angel's face was tight with grief, but his voice remained calm and steady.
Doyle controlled his own distress and regarded the vampire levelly. "And then you'll leave," he said softly. Angel didn't answer him, he didn't need to. Doyle knew that Angel wouldn't take the chance of losing his soul to a moments weakness. If he couldn't walk away....? How hard would it be for Angel to get careless in a fight. Did The Powers want their 'champion' so badly that they would look out for him? Or was there already another 'dark warrior' waiting in the wings?
This had to work. Things had already gone too far. There was no turning away from this. It had to work - because the alternative was unthinkable.
Part TwentyEmotions were also a little muddied upstairs; as two waiting lovers waded through unknown waters......
After his 'chat' with Angel, Xander had raced into the office to find Spike sitting at the front desk, resting his boots on it, reading Cosmopolitan.
"About bloody time," the vampire grumbled. "You talk any sense into the git?"
Xander shrugged. "He says he's thinking about it. He's going to talk it through with Doyle."
Spike's eyebrows rose. "I'm impressed, pet." He threw aside the magazine and swung his boots to the floor as he stood and walked around the desk.
Xander recognised the gleam in those stormy blue eyes and he took a hasty step back, shaking his head. "Uh uh, down, boy." He raised his hands. "You promised we'd talk, remember?"
"I never promised," said Spike still stalking toward him.
Xander looked around and grabbed the pot plant from the cabinet behind him. He held it up in front of him like a leafy shield. "First we talk, then we fuck," he insisted.
Spike's eyes narrowed dangerously - Xander stared him down defiantly. The vampire gave a disgusted 'tsk' and stomped back over to the desk. He sat down and pulled out a crumpled packet of cigarettes. Lighting one he regarded Xander balefully. "Well, come on then. Talk."
"M-me?!" Xander's temper flared. "Hey, *I'm* the one having all sorts of freaky vampire crap thrown at him. I think *I'm* the one who needs to be hearing some answers here."
Spike blew out a smoke ring. "'Freaky vampire crap?'" he repeated coldly.
Xander wasn't fooled by the tone; he'd already caught the faint glimmer of concern in his lover's expression. He put down the plant and walked over to the vampire. He plucked the cigarette out of Spike's fingers and stubbed it out in a discarded coffee cup. The telling thing was that Spike let him.
"I can sense you," said Xander softly. "I can feel where you are, even when I can't hear or see you." He looked at Spike desperately. "*I* found you in that place. I closed my eyes and I *knew* where you were. What the hell is happening to me?" His voice rose slightly. "You....you drank my blood and I *liked* it. I like drinking yours..." Xander stopped, unable to continue; he was shaking.
Strong arms grabbed him and pulled him close.
"I'm not turning you," the vampire promised, understanding Xander's unspoken fear. "I won't. Not unless you want me to. You'd change if I turned you, and I-" a slight shrug "- I like you like this." Spike looked embarrassed by the admission.
Xander managed a wobbly smile. "So, it's just a kinky sex thing?"
Spike didn't respond to the nervous teasing. He looked decidedly uncomfortable and when he spoke his tone was deadly serious. "It's a bit more than that, pet. When we share blood and fuck, it's kind of a binding thing."
"A binding thing?" Xander's eyes widened. "That demon, the one in the bar, he called me your consort. Is that what this is about?"
Spike cursed the afore mentioned demon in several languages. "Yes," he muttered finally.
Xander swallowed hard. "What does it mean?"
Spike explained. "Only Master vampires take consorts; fledglings just fuck and fight. A consort has certain...privileges, plus they're under the Master's protection. More often than not they're not vampires. A Master can take a consort from any race. By sharing blood, especially during sex, they tie their chosen one to them, creating a kind of bond."
"Like what I can feel," said Xander softly.
Spike nodded. "Other vampires can sense it too. It tells them you're taken. Warns them off. It's not foolproof - they might still tear your throat out - but they'd know they'd have to answer for it, eventually."
Blue eyes took on a golden tinge as Spike clearly thought about the possibility of any one daring to touch his lover.
"But you said your blood was dangerous?" Xander was adrift in a sea of confusion. Blood and Binding? Consorts and Masters? He hadn't been this bewildered since his last trigonometry exam.
"It is, pet," said Spike gently. "If you take too much, too often. Now and then just strengthens the bond and-" he shifted uneasily "-it gives you an edge."
Xander twitched. "An edge?"
"Vampire blood's powerful stuff, pet. You can't drink it without 'changing' a bit."
"I'm changing?" Xander's voice was filled with panic.
Spike soothed him. "Sssh. Nothing bad. It just makes you a bit stronger, and it might-"
"-*yes*?" Xander demanded.
"-make you live a bit longer."
"*What?!*"
"Easy, luv. We're not talking immortality 'ere. Just stretching your life-span by a few years, that's all." Spike didn't add that no one really knew by how much, since most consorts were either killed or turned before
they died of old age.Xander's mind was still reeling. "What if I don't take any more. Then what?"
"Do you want to stop?" Spike asked flatly.
"No," Xander shook his head. "I...I want it," he admitted. Brown eyes narrowed. "Is it addictive?"
Spike pursed his lips thoughtfully. Then he nodded. "Slightly, yes."
"So what would happen if I did stop?"
"Now? You'd go through a sort of withdrawal."
"What about later?" Xander asked. Spike didn't say anything. "It would be worse, wouldn't it?"
A terse nod.
"Mated," Xander murmured quietly.
"Huh?"
"We're mated," said Xander slowly. "That's what Angel said." Brown eyes met blue without a trace of hesitancy. "So is this a permanent thing?"
It was Spike's turn to swallow hard. "Do you want it to be?" His casual tone was slightly spoiled by the nervous way he wetted his lips.
Did he? Xander's gaze turned inward as he thought about what the vampire was asking of him. This was life altering stuff. If he was ever going to walk away from this now was the time - of course Spike would probably kill him - but did he even want to try?
He looked into slightly worried blue eyes and smiled. "Yes," he replied honestly. "I'm undoubtedly insane, but yes, I do."
"Then it is," said Spike simply. He slid his hands down to cup Xander's buttocks. "So, can we fuck now?"
Xander's smile widened at the vampire's slightly whiny tone. "I'm exhausted," he protested. "I haven't slept since-"
"-you slept in the car," Spike argued, already tugging at Xander's shirt. "You can sleep later. I want you to fuck me." It wasn't 'quite' an order.
"Here?" Xander looked around the office a touch alarmed. It seemed very....well....open. "There are windows-"
"-which have blinds," said Spike, starting on the belt around Xander's jeans. He grinned lasciviously. "We talked. Now we fuck. That was the deal, I believe."
"What if Cordy comes in-"
"Oh please. I doubt very much that she'll show her pretty face before 9.00," said Spike, who was busily dragging down Xander's jeans.
Xander slipped his feet out of his sneakers and leaned against the vampire to step out of his jeans and boxers. Spike was blowing softly against the exposed skin of his chest and his stomach was turning flip-flops. He offered up a final flimsy protest. "What if she does come in early?"
Spike made an exasperated sound. "Then we'll have us a jolly threesome. Now shut up."
They both thought about what he'd just said and shared a look that clearly said <Not bloody likely!>
Xander opened his mouth to speak and Spike pressed cold fingers to his lips.
"Not one word," the vampire whispered. "*If* she shows, she can either stay and watch, or piss off somewhere else."
Xander nodded mutely. The heat in Spike's eyes made his heart hammer madly. His weariness forgotten, he worked on getting Spike out of his clothes. "What about-"
Spike drew a small tube out of his pocket. It was the hand cream from the motel. Xander grinned and leaned in to claim a kiss. Spike was right - enough with the chat, it was time for some mind melting sex.
The computer was pushed dangerously close to the edge as he all but climbed onto Spike's lap. The kiss was deep and urgent; as thought it had been weeks not hours since they had last done this. Xander had never thought it was possible to want any one this badly, this often. He was addicted alright, but it was Spike himself, not the vampire's blood that fuelled his cravings. If this was a sickness, Xander didn't want to be cured; it felt too damn good.
Pens and pencils were swept onto the floor, they rolled away across the linoleum. The cup fell, sending up a spray of cold coffee. Spike lay on his back sprawled over the desk, with Xander draped on top of him. The wooden legs wobbled with the momentum of their bodies as they thrust against one another.
Lips and tongues duelled with feverish intensity as their desire spiralled. Mated they might be, but this was a mutual claiming - the vampire as lost as his human consort in this frenetic coupling.
Xander suddenly drew back with a mutter of annoyance. Spike's clothing was proving impossible to remove at this range. They separated briefly, scrabbling about - dragging off boots, the duster, and finally the bloodstained khakis. With both of them finally naked, Xander roughly pushed Spike back down and lay on top of him.
Spike made a curious whimpering sound; his eyes half-closed in heated satisfaction. His face was already shifting between its human and vampiric guises.
Xander fumbled blindly with the handcream, flipping the cap with one hand. The strange grunts and growls Spike made as he prepared him, sent the remainder of Xander's blood rushing south. Spike always felt impossibly tight. He had to work to ease his second finger inside; the third was almost painful as the vampire's muscles clenched around him.
Spike himself, showed no signs of discomfort as he bucked against Xander's hand.
Xander felt his control slipping. He hoped he'd worked enough of the cream into Spike as he withdrew his fingers and readied himself.
The vampire was in full game face. He lay back panting, lips furled, revealing long needle-like teeth.
Xander didn't waste time easing in slowly. He grabbed Spike's legs and pushed them up, driving in with such force that Spike slid across the desk. Xander pulled him back, ruthlessly impaling the vampire in one violent thrust. Spike threw back his head and howled, wrapping his legs around Xander, whose ribs creaked in protest.
As they drove against one another, Xander snatched his lover's hand and sank his teeth into the base of Spike's thumb. He licked the vampire's palm with swirling sweeps of his tongue as the rich scarlet fluid flowed.
Spike responded by grabbing Xander's free hand - burrowing his fangs deep into the boy's flesh. Xander gasped as Spike lapped up the blood. Then the vampire let go and pulled his own hand free. They reached for one another simultaneously, bloodied palms pressed together as their fingers intertwined. Brown eyes locked with gold as the tempo of their thrusts increased.
The desk jerked and rocked. The computer crept closer and closer to the edge. Xander fought for purchase; his bare feet sticking to the linoleum floor as his knees rebounded of the wood with bruising force. Suddenly he stiffened and with a choked cry he came, spilling his seed deep into his lover's body.
As Xander collapsed forward, Spike's teeth sank into him - not to drink, just to bite. Xander moved his head and bit deeply into Spike's torso. It was enough. The vampire howled and arched against him; cold seed rushing out between their bodies. The desk gave one more tremendous lurch and the computer toppled to the floor with a resounding crash.
Then there was silence.
Xander tried to move but Spike stopped him. Xander tried to protest. "You can't be comfor-"
"I'm fine, keep still," said Spike tightening his hold.
Xander obediently gave up trying to move. He wasn't even sure he could - some one had apparently snuck in and replaced his bones with cotton candy.
"We killed the computer," he whispered.
"Oops," Spike agreed dryly. The vampire sounded less than concerned about the computer's sorry fate.
"Think Angel will make us buy him another one?" Try as he might, Xander couldn't really bring himself to care.
"He can try," said Spike. "Maybe he'll be satisfied with a few sexual favours. He seemed quite impressed with your talents."
Xander reached up and grabbed a handful of the vampire's hair; he struck Spike's head against the desk. "Not nice," he warned.
Spike grinned smugly. "Nope, but then you wouldn't have me any other way, would you."
"Suppose not," Xander admitted reluctantly, petting the bit of his lover he'd just assaulted. "But I wouldn't rely on that cliched cockney charm to get you out of everything."
Spike stuck out his tongue and Xander wiggled up his lover's body to try and suck it into his own mouth. Spike didn't put up much of a fight and they kissed wetly for a few minutes, only pausing now and then for Xander to draw breath.
Eventually, Xander rested his head back against the vampire's chest. "You know," he said softly. "There is just one other thing I wanted to ask." He could feel the tension stealing back into Spike's body and he gave his lover's nipple a reassuring lick before pressing on. He had to know. "Your implant. Now that's it's not working. What will you.." He trailed off unhappily.
"Will I be dining on the locals?" Spike finished for him.
Xander raised his head and fixed his lover with a troubled gaze. "I *know* it's what you do and everything. I can't help not liking it. I'm trying," he said helplessly.
Spike stroked away a few strands of Xander's fringe. "This is L.A, pet. Plenty of bad guys for me to munch on."
Xander stared silently while he tried to decipher what Spike was saying. His eyes widened. "You mean you'd-"
Spike cut him off. "I'm not 'soul boy'. I don't do the dead animal crap." Gold eyes softened slightly. "But I figure there's enough creeps to feed off in this city without snackin' on the other pathetic residents."
"What if you can't?" Xander asked worriedly. He failed to keep the desperate hope from his face. Would Spike really do this for him?
"Then I guess the odd bovine beverage won't finish me," said Spike sourly. "Course, I expect something for it."
"Sexual favours?" Xander teased. He felt light-headed all of a sudden. Literally dizzy with happiness. He had struggled not to think about what Spike would do without the implant. He had hoped but never believed that Spike would make such a sacrifice. Okay, so the vampire wasn't exactly going cold turkey, but even being a bit discriminatory about who he fed on was a big step to take. Xander felt a foolish grin settle on his face - and Spike was doing it for him.
"Sexual favours?" Spike pretended to think it over. "Hmm, yeah. That'll do. I think it's time we broadened your horizons a little."
Xander felt a quiver shudder through him as Spike's husky tenor conjured up all sorts of possibilities in his fevered imagination. "I'm game," he agreed boldly.
Spike's expression was both tender and sly. "Yes, pet, you are. You are."