“What’s next?” Cordelia looked hopefully around the room for something else to pack, she was sweaty and exhausted from the physical work, but at least it was keeping her mind occupied and away from Angel. See, two minutes without something to do and she was already thinking about him again.
Fred poked her head through from the kitchen and gave a shrug. “Looks like you’ve done it all. You didn’t pack the books did you, ‘cos Wesley said he wanted to check if any were his before we left.”
“Books, books. Here they are.”
Juggling takeout containers and his keys, Gunn paused outside the front door listening to the two women talking. In less than a week, he and Fred would be leaving and he wasn’t happy, not about getting out of LA though he would miss his old friends. What bothered him was leaving Cordy to all intents and purposes alone with Angel. There was something seriously wrong with the vampire, and Gunn was distinctly uncomfortable with the idea of his friend being left in that huge hotel with him. Cordy swore she would be fine and they shouldn’t worry, but the look on her face when she had turned up to help them that evening spoke far louder than her words. After so many years on the street it was an expression Gunn was all too familiar with; she was scared of her man but loved him too much to tell anyone.
Sliding the key into the lock he pushed open the door and plastered a smile on his face. “Hey, girls. Anyone here hungry?”
**
They’d argued about it all the way from the crime scene to the hotel and now Wesley was running out of time.
“You can’t just go in there and tell him his son is a murderer.” The central locking wouldn’t hold the vampire for long if he was determined to get out of the car but as a delaying tactic it might work.
“Why the hell not?”
“Because…because it’s sadistic, he loves Connor and telling him like this will break his heart.”
“Piffle. He’ll do exactly what he should be doing right now. Get out there and catch the boy, then hang him up by his pink frilly bits till he starts doing what his Daddy tells him.”
“Pink frilly bits?” Did he really want to know?
“You know, fingers, toes, arms, legs. Come on, Wes, unlock the door.”
There was only one tactic left to use. “What makes you think he’ll believe you, either of us for that matter. My track record with Connor is not exactly good, and you haven’t spoken to him for over three months.”
Spike froze in the act of breaking the lock, Wesley was right. Not about the three months obviously, but it was sixteen days since he’d spoken to Angel and there hadn’t been even so much as a call say it was over. Something had gone very wrong and under the circumstances maybe he and Wesley were not the right people to pass on the bad news.
He sagged back in the seat. “Okay, fine. What do you suggest?”
**
“I don’t believe you.” Cordelia folded her arms across her chest, absolute determination painted across her face.
“At least let him in so he can explain.” The front door was still open and Spike was leaning on the wall opposite watching events unfurling within the small apartment. He’d been somewhat surprised to discover his invitation had been revoked but this was hardly the time to start kicking up a fuss.
Fred was shaking her head, unwilling to accept that Connor was their murderer, and unhappy at having Spike back in her home. For once Gunn disagreed and made the decision for her. “I’ve gotta go with what Wes is saying. If there’s any chance that it is Connor doing this, it’s going to take all of us to find him.” He turned to the door, eyeing the vampire suspiciously. “If I do this, are you gonna behave ‘cos I don’t have to remind you that I won’t hesitate in staking your skinny ass.”
The vampire grinned and hauled himself upright. “Scout’s honour, mate. Though I’d hide the tacos if you don’t want them nibbled on.”
With another distrustful frown, Gunn stepped back. “Come in then. And Fred, you’d better get another couple of plates.”
**
The table was covered in dirty plates and empty take away containers, and the group around it sat digesting their meal and the unwelcome information.
“I still can’t believe you tasted it. I mean eww.” Spike had passed on that detail with impeccable timing, and gained an extra taco from Cordelia’s plate as a reward. He answered her with a feral grin and enthusiastically sucked his fingers clean of grease, making her shudder and turn away.
With a contented sigh, Gunn sat back and thought through what they knew. It certainly sounded like Connor was the culprit so what they needed was a way to catch him. Unfortunately, the murders tonight left them all out of clients.
“What we need is bait. Someone we can set up and use to trap Connor.”
“Charles, no. That would be terrible. You couldn’t do that to some poor unsuspecting person.”
“I’m down with that Fred, no innocents. But we still need someone who’s in the know and can look after themselves.”
“What about Willow. She can certainly look after herself and I’m sure she would be more than willing to assist after all we did for her.”
Gunn shook his head, he was pretty sure he knew who was behind this, and if they were Willow would be useless. “No, she’s way too well known for that to work.”
“Well known by whom. Do you suspect this is more than just Connor?” Wesley started stacking plates and clearing containers.
“Wolfram and Hart.” It wasn’t even a surprise; there wasn’t so much as a raised eyebrow around the table. The facts fitted, who else had the resources to conceal a vampire’s son from him and a Slayer, who else had the technology to track and identify every client the agency had, who else would love to destroy Angel Investigations. There was only one answer.
As they took turns shifting rubbish and clearing up, Cordelia got back to the plan.
“So we have the lawyers from hell riding us again. No surprise there. But we still need bait. Someone they don’t know, so they’ll have to be from out of town. Someone who appears to be completely in the dark about what’s really going on…”
With slowly dawning horror Spike realised exactly who Cordelia was working herself up to suggesting, he had to speak before she said it and everyone agreed. Just as he was about to open his mouth Wesley chimed in from the kitchen.
“You know who would be absolutely perfect - Xander Harris.”
*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*
25th January 2003
Spike glowered balefully at the call box and it stared back at him promising horrors unsurpassed the moment he picked it up. Maybe he could call Buffy or Willow and ask them instead. No, they’d discussed that and it was just possible that the phone at Casa Summers was tapped, after all it was the home of one active Slayer and the most powerful Wiccan in the Western Hemisphere.
With newly garnered resolve he stepped towards the kiosk again. Then, as if the gates of hell themselves lay within its Plexiglas and metal walls, he shot backwards, almost stumbling in his haste to get away, and they were back to their mutual glaring fest, the telephone having won that round hands down. A passer-by threw an offended look in his direction before averting her gaze as she hurried on past. The vampire gave a disgusted snort at his own timidity and dug into his pockets for the obligatory cigarette.
This was getting beyond pathetic, he was smoking way too much and he’d promised to give up after Africa, what with second hand smoking deaths and the like, but it wasn’t that easy. Things had been odd and then frantic, and now they were just plain stressful. If it were possible Spike reckoned he was due a stomach ulcer about now. And wouldn’t it have been nice to have been left alone for a few years until the squeak had worn off his new soul, but no, the Powers That Be were never that considerate were they? Not for him a quiet ramble through the Romanian countryside followed by a hundred years of peaceful solitude in the gutter, it was more like ‘You’ve got a soul and feeling shitty about it? Here let’s screw things up even more for you.’ Why did life always choose him to crap on hardest? It wasn’t that he didn’t try, it was…Oh for god’s sake boy, pull yourself together. Wallowing in self-pity isn’t gonna get the call made.
With a deep and - as if he didn’t know it - unneeded breath, Spike re-reviewed what he was going to say. ‘Harris, we need you.’ Would the bloke wear it? Probably not. Shit, what if they hadn’t told him about the soul?! They must have, would have, surely. They were mates, best mates; they didn’t keep secrets from each other. Except for the ones about heaven…and shagging the un-dead…and magic… and this was never going to work.
Right, don’t panic. Breath instead, works for Angel, doesn’t it? Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale. Big long deep inhalation full of nicotine…hold, and…relax. Why was he doing this again? Oh yeah, because ‘he was the only one who didn’t officially work for AI so he might not be being followed and if he was, he stood the best chance of noticing and getting away from the tail,’ according to the others. The fact that Harris was the last person on the planet he wanted to speak to and vice versa, was irrelevant, the gang had decided it was a good idea for him to be the contact, and his perfectly legitimate protests had been outvoted and shouted down from all angles.
Okay, this was it. He stepped forward again and grabbed the telephone, loosening his grip rapidly as he felt the plastic start to give under the pressure. With a shaky hand he laid a slip of paper on the shelf, force fed coins into the slot and quickly punched in the number. It was answered with a sleepy ‘Hello?’ after five rings. So maybe calling at two a.m. wasn’t the best idea he’d had recently, but it had taken him that long to work up the nerve.
“Harris? Can you get a couple of days off and get your ass to LA, we need you.” And that wasn’t the most inspired opener in the history of icebreakers.
“Spike?” There was the distinct sound of bedsprings and then Xander spoke again, sounding irritated but not really angry. That had to be a good thing right? “It’s two o’clock in the morning, which by the way is quite possibly the only time you would find me home, but that is so completely beside the point that I’m not even going to bother pursuing it.”
“I woke you up. Sorry.” And that was the first and last time he was going to apologise.
“Sorry? From you? That’s rich, I must say. Is this what having a soul does for you, ‘cos in my experience it’s more likely to turn you into total jerk with bad hair? Hey, who am I kidding you were there already.”
“Shut the fuck up, Harris. This is important. We need your help.”
There was a tense silence from the other end of the phone and, with eyes raised to the heavens, Spike sent up a silent plea for this man-child to get his head out of his arse just long enough to listen.
“Is this an ‘I need Buffy but can’t get her to answer the phone’ kind of help ‘cos I’m only across town…?”
“No, not Buffy. Xander, look I can’t explain on the phone. Is there any chance that you could meet me somewhere? Halfway or something.”
And maybe it was the fact that for the first time Spike actually used Xander’s name, or perhaps the human’s longstanding friendship with Willow meant he felt a slight debt of gratitude to the vampire. Whatever the reason, Xander agreed to the rendezvous and the two erstwhile enemies quickly set a place and time to meet the following night.
*~*~*~*~*~*~*
26th January 2003
It had been a bad day, made worse by the fact that Wesley had been out belatedly trying to sustain the illusion that he was totally immersed in AI business, and couldn’t possibly have noticed his vampiric houseguest. Consequently, there had been no one around to pull Spike out of his screaming nightmare and when he’d woken, shaking in sweat sodden sheets, the vampire had spent the rest of the day curled up against the headboard pleading with the ghosts to leave him alone.
“Are you going to be all right to drive? If you don’t mind me saying so, you look awful.” There were dark rings around the vampire’s eyes and he looked drawn and tired. When he got a short nod in reply, Wesley left Spike in the bedroom shoving things in a small holdall and hurried through to the kitchen, there wasn’t much he could do but sending the vampire off with a full stomach was something. Spike still tended not to feed as often as he should, and the Watcher habitually found that the stocks of blood in the fridge had gone off before they’d been consumed. As he dug to the back for the freshest batch Wesley decided that when Spike got back from this meeting he would ensure that the vampire actually consumed his daily allowance.
“Make that a coffee, mate.” He turned to see Spike lounging in the doorway, obviously trying to look like his usual cocky self but failing miserably, there was a cloud of unhappiness hanging over him that even this reserved Englishman could recognise.
Returning to the bag of blood on the counter, Wesley answered. “I’ll make you a coffee as well but you’re feeding before you leave.” There was a slight protest from behind him and he waved it away. “Don’t argue. This is important and you need to be alert. It’s entirely possible that Wolfram and Hart are tailing you and they won’t hesitate to run you off the road if they suspect what you’re doing.”
“Maybe they should. It’ll save Harris the bother of staking me.”
Wesley put the full mug in the microwave and started the coffee brewing before asking; “Do you think that’s likely?”
“He’s got every reason to hate me and precious little to trust me. If I was him I’d do it.”
The microwave dinged its completion into a rather tense silence and Wesley retrieved the mug, passing it over to its reluctant recipient. “Then perhaps you have inadvertently discovered the difference between humans and vampires, whether they have souls or not. Humans, Spike, have a remarkable capacity for forgiveness, something your species is not overly blessed with as I have discovered to my cost.”
The vampire nodded silently at his quietly spoken words and drained his mug of blood, swallowing with a slight grimace.
“Coffee?”
“Thanks.”
Swapping one mug for another, Wesley rinsed the remaining blood down the sink, watching the pinkish swirls chase each other in ever decreasing circles until they vanished. He could feel Spike still hovering in the doorway and got the distinct impression that he wanted to talk.
“You’re really worried about this, aren’t you?” If this wasn’t the problem it may at least give Spike somewhere to start.
“He was there in the house when…” Spike felt the shakes start again and he closed his eyes, pressing back against the doorjamb trying to will them away. He really didn’t need this. Wesley was right, tonight of all nights he needed to be alert and focused, not the gibbering wreck the Watcher had discovered not half an hour ago.
His long experience told Wesley exactly what the vampire was referring to, so he finished the sentence for him, forcing every ounce of emotion out of his voice. “When you tried to rape Buffy.”
“Yeah. He…not exactly then, he came in afterwards. I hid in the bedroom and then ran. But he saw her. He knows what I did.”
The words conjured the images and in Spike’s mind he was there again, the front door had opened just as he’d left the bathroom with every intention of getting out of the house as quickly as possible, and then came the sound of Harris’ voice calling up the stairs. Unable to escape past the human he’d hidden in the witches’ room waiting for an opportunity to slip down and retrieve his coat. But then he’d smelled it, the sulphurous stink of absolute killing rage, and powerful enough to break the vampire’s resolve and send him into rapid retreat out of the upstairs window into the night. With a quick shake of his head Spike pulled himself back into the present.
“I don’t know how well you knew him when you were in Sunnydale, but he’s a brave kid…man now, I guess. Angelus used to call him Buffy’s white knight. Stood up to both of us over the years. Never faltered. Loyal as a bloody dog, he is. And he hates me with a passion.”
“With good reason by the sounds of it.”
“You haven’t heard the half. I dunno if you knew but him and his demon girl, they’d been walking out for a couple of years and were supposed to be getting hitched. Fancy gowns, flowers, families, the works, but on the day he got cold feet and skedaddled. Then just before the thing with Buffy, a couple of days before, I…she and I…we…in the shop and there were cameras and everyone saw us.”
Somehow this memory conspired to be worse than the last. Perhaps because it had spent so long subsumed in the package of events, which in Spike’s head were dominated by the attempted rape, he’d never really examined it, unpacked and considered its implications under the cold light of his soul. Now he did and it proved to be the final straw. With a tearing sob the vampire sank to the ground and buried his head in his hands, the mug of scalding coffee spilling unnoticed down his jeans and onto the floor.
“Everyone. Buffy, Harris, Red. Oh Jesus, even Dawn saw us. She…she thought I’d done it to hurt Buffy and it wasn’t that. I just needed something different, someone who wasn’t her, someone who wouldn’t fuck me then throw it back in my face. And she was hurting too. Wanted someone to tell her she was loved and I couldn’t do that, but I could show her. That she was beautiful and desirable, and that Harris was a fool for leaving her.”
Not quite knowing what to do for the best Wesley settled on the practical first. He removed the mug and mopped up the spilt coffee, then sat on the floor next to the weeping vampire, rehearsing a couple of comforting phrases in his mind. ‘There, there, everything will be okay,’ or maybe ‘Just let it go, you’ll feel better,’ but they sounded hackneyed even in his head. Perhaps the colder less emotional approach was the way to go, ‘So you screwed his fiancée in public and tried to rape his best friend, get over it’. Wesley shivered slightly, the words came out in the exact tone and pitch he’d heard from his father for so long, disappointment tinged with anger. Finally running out of options, he followed his instincts and did what seemed like the most natural thing in the world, reaching out and pulling Spike into a tight embrace.
The tears carried on for at least another ten minutes while Wesley tried to ignore the cramp in his arm and the fact that one of his legs had gone completely numb after only five. Eventually they slowed and the Watcher decided that now was probably a good time for words.
“Who are you crying for?”
There was a small sniffle and the vampire wiped his face with the back of his hand. “Don’t know. Me, them, him, the whole stupid sorry mess, I s’pose.”
How did such an ancient creature manage to sound so young? Fumbling slightly Wesley pulled them both to their feet and gave Spike a last strong hug. “Come on, you need to get going otherwise you’ll be late and that sin is never forgiven.”
**
The three of them stood in the corridor outside Angel and Cordelia’s suite, staring at the door that had remained resolutely locked despite a good five minutes of pounding and yelling.
“Kick it down.” Cordy pulled Fred to one side, leaving the tall man space to charge down the door.
With his arms folded across his chest, Gunn frowned at her doubtfully. “You sure? You don’t think that’ll piss him off even more?”
“Do it!” Determination was Cordelia Chase’s middle name, and she was brooking no argument so, with a shrug, he launched himself at the door hitting it solidly with his shoulder. The lock gave slightly under the assault and he tried again. On the third blow it gave and swung open, revealing a darkened room that smelled stale and dank. Angel was lying on the bed fully clothed, face down and unmoving, and Cordy felt panic rise in her throat. Her lover may not be the most animated person in the world, but he rarely looked quite so obviously a corpse. She pushed past her friends and walked to the bed, stumbling over discarded clothing and books as she went.
“Angel?” His shoulder was almost warm under her hand and she shook the prone figure trying to elicit some reaction to their presence. “Wake up, babe, we need to talk.” There was no response.
She tried again, hoping that he was hearing her even if he was choosing not to answer. “Angel? We know who the murderer is and it’s not good news, okay? If you weren’t already lying down I’d tell you to sit ‘cos this is going to be a shock. It’s Connor. He’s the one doing it. Angel? Did you hear me?”
‘Connor? My son?’ Cordy’s insistent voice slowly penetrated the dark fog that had built up in his head. It was like coming back from one of his worst dreams, the ones that left him sweating and shaking for hours. As he surfaced, Angel could feel Angelus curling away, giving him back sole control of his body, but remaining in contact with his mind, still whispering poisoned words in his ear.
‘Merely a human child, not worthy of us, not a suitable receptacle for our love. Now if I had brought him over, then he would have been magnificent, a beast that would challenge even my superiority. Think how good that would be Angel. He could be with you eternally, never changing, never ageing…’
“No. No. No!” Angel pounded his fist on the bed in time with his words, sending the humans in the room scurrying like frightened rabbits at his sudden reanimation. His actions also succeeded in driving Angelus further inside, finally quietening the perpetual commentary he’d been withstanding for the last few weeks. Last night had been the worst and the vampire could still feel the unnatural warmth flooding his body from the dead girl’s blood.
No, he dared not dwell on that. He needed to come back and deal with reality, confront Connor and discover exactly what had impelled his beloved son to kill. With a muted groan, Angel pushed himself up onto his elbows and pried open his eyes, which felt gritty from lack of decent sleep.
“Thank god. I was beginning to think you were really dead, except not dust, so…” Cordy’s covering quip fizzled out when she saw Angel’s face, he was flushed and looked kind of high, with glassy eyes and an unfocussed gaze.
“Are you okay?”
Angel stared at her hand as she gently stroked his sleeve. What an interesting question? How should he answer her? Well actually, Cordy, while you were out last night I drained a girl and then threw her body in a dumpster. Why? That would be because Angelus is screaming to get out and it’s taking every atom of my being to stop him raging through this place, and raping and killing every one of you. But apart from that, I’m fine. How are you?
“Give me a minute to wake up and I’ll be with you.”
It was non-committal as answers went and…Jesus god, what was that smell? Angel pulled at his shirt and gave it a tentative sniff then looked up into Cordy’s concerned brown eyes. “But first, I really need to have a shower.”
**
His friends thought he was a pathetic Sci-fi geek, but they had got it all wrong. The point was that Xander didn’t watch the shows for the gadgets or the special effects, and it certainly wasn’t for the monsters with their cheesy latex masks and bad make-up, he saw way too much of the real thing living on the Hellmouth. No, what really did it for him was watching the people, every episode was a lesson in how people talked and laughed and loved, and the characters were as much his friends and family as Buffy and Willow.
As a bonus he’d picked up lots of other useful tips along the way, like the ones he was using now. He remembered watching avidly as Garibaldi used his well rehearsed gum-shoe moves to put Sheridan off his game and neatly turned the tables on his old boss, and that was what he wanted to do now. It was all about power, who had it and who knew how to use it.
He’d chosen his seat deliberately, furthest from the entrance but with an excellent view of whoever came through the door. The lighting was perfect. Too bright for someone with sensitive eyes who’d been lurking outside in the dark, it would make them stop and take the time to adjust, and the final piece of the set-up was turning up half an hour early. Now all that was missing was the ‘I’ve-got-a-soul-now-so-you’d-better-to-be-nice-to-me’ vampire and the picture would be complete. Xander finished his coffee and carelessly flicked through the menu keeping half an eye on the door, there was still five minutes before Spike was due to arrive, and eating would keep his hands and mouth busy till he did.
**
The diner was, of course, non-smoking, so Spike lurked in the darkened parking lot finishing his cigarette before going in. Wesley had been right to make him feed before leaving, he definitely felt more focused and less scared. Scared. Him. Of Xander Harris. How far had he sunk, this was pathetic. With an outward confidence that belied the nerves in his stomach, the vampire ground out what was left of his fag, strode across the tarmac and walked into the brightly-lit building.
**
He almost hadn’t recognised him. Gone was the bleach blond punk with his black on black clothes, arrogant swagger and smirk, and Big Bad vibe. In his place was a slight pale, almost effeminate looking man with black curly hair, wearing washed out blue jeans and a cream sweater. The only things that remained the same were the startling blue eyes, currently squinting slightly against the aggressive fluorescent lights, and the graceful poise that always made Xander feel like a lumbering idiot. He made no attempt to attract the vampire’s attention, just watched him intently as he stood by the door, shoulders hunched and fists stuffed into his pockets, looking anxiously around the crowded eatery.
To Xander’s fascination, the moment Spike spotted him his whole demeanour changed. The old nemesis was reborn and within moments the vampire was swathed in his familiar persona right down to the scornful sneer.
“Harris.” Spike nodded casually before sliding bonelessly into the seat opposite.
“Spike.” They sat in silence for a moment neither willing to concede the initial blow. Surprisingly it was the vampire that caved first, keeping his eyes lowered and speaking hesitantly, tracing random patterns across the tabletop with his fingers.
“So, umm, Red filled you in on stuff, yeah?”
“Stuff? Would that be ‘stuff’ like ‘Xander, Spike’s all soulful now and wouldn’t hurt anyone Yes, he put Wesley in the hospital but I’m sure it was all a big mistake.’ Was that be the sort of ‘stuff’ you mean?”
There was no mistaking the angry bitterness in the man’s voice and Spike quailed slightly under the onslaught. Why had he ever thought that Harris would listen to him, let alone agree to help? There was obviously more groundwork to be done before they could move past all the bad blood between them.
“Look, Harris…Xander. I can’t apologise for what I did. It would be meaningless.”
“Meaningless? As in without meaning? As in, you wouldn’t mean it if you did say it? Way to go with the apologies, fangless.”
Spike gritted his teeth and managed to hold onto his temper, and his demon. “For fuck’s sake boy, there’s more at stake here than you and me. Just hear me out, then if you wanna take this outside, we can.”
Xander glared at him across the table for a moment and then gave a short nod.
“Red told you about Connor, Angel’s son, right?”
Another nod.
“After…everything,” Spike waved a hand to indicate the events of the last six months, “he did a runner, pissed off somewhere. Not even Faith could find him. Then about three months ago people started getting killed. Turns out it was him doing it. The law firm, Wolfram and Hart are behind it. They’ve got the kid doing their wet-works, taking down all of AI’s clients. Anyway, the long and short of it is, we need someone to take on the agency. Pretend to be a client so we can trap the little bugger and get him back to his Dad. What do you say?”
There was silence and Spike unconsciously tapped his fingers on his knee in frustration at the delay.
“Let me get this straight. The super-sleuth has a problem with an evil law firm and you want me to come to LA as bait.”
“Yeah, that about sums it up.”
“I’ll do it.”
“The thing is we could…What?”
“I said I’d do it. Don’t get me wrong, I hate the plan. And me as bait? That I hate even more. But I can see that it could work.”
“R-right.” He was expecting refusal or at the very least a demand for a detailed exposition. This sudden agreement had taken the wind right out of Spike’s sails; he wasn’t sure what to say next. “You want a coffee?”
“I’ve already ordered but, hey, you’re paying, right?”
“Least we can do.”
As the vampire placed his order with the waitress, Xander thought through his next move. So far everything was going to plan, he really didn’t mind helping out the LA crew after all they’d done for Willow and Dawn, and getting out of Sunnydale for a week or so, that was just a bonus. But he wanted more than that; he wanted to get even with Spike. When the waitress had moved away and they were alone again he started on phase two, bringing the oh-so-superior vampire down a peg or two.
Keeping his tone as light as possible he launched the opening salvo. “So what’s this I hear about you and Deadboy? Playing hide the sausage with Daddy, not really what I expected from the Big Bad.”
Yes! Xander’s inner brat did the snoopy dance. It was a long time since he’d managed to wipe the smirk off Spike’s face and managing to replace it with total shock had never been achieved. He was the man!
It took the vampire a few moments to recover his composure and before he could ask anything obvious like - how the hell did you find out - Xander told him.
“Wills dished the dirt on you, buster. The full nine yards, right down to the grunts, groans, and begging for more. And before you ask, no, Buffy does not know. Unlike some people I don’t go around telling my friends things they don’t want to hear.”
As he watched the anguish wash over Spike’s face at the mention of Buffy’s name, Xander felt his resolve crumble a little, after all the guy had gone and got himself a soul for her which is more than Angelus ever did. But no, he couldn’t afford to back down now, he had the power and he wasn’t afraid to use it, the vampire had to learn that some things did not come without a price.
“So, the Witch tattled did she? I would have thought that with her and Glinda…”
That did it. Xander was half standing, leaning over the table and shouting. “Don’t you dare compare yourself to them! Whatever dirty little games you and Angel may have been playing are nothing, nothing like what Willow and Tara had!” They were starting to attract curious looks from the other customers and Spike put a hand out in an attempt to calm the irate man.
Xander pulled away with a look of pure disgust. “Get your hands off me you fag. God, when I think I let you sleep in the same room as me. You make me sick.”
“Now, just hang on a minute. It’s not what you think… not that that would be a problem, but…”
“So now you’re gonna tell me you’re a one vamp man, huh. Don’t bend over for just anyone then Spikey, only Daddy.”
“Hello, vampire! Didn’t Giles teach you lot anything?” The staff had now noticed their argument and an older man, whose nametag declared him to be the assistant manager, came over to the table.
“Excuse me, gentlemen, but I’m afraid I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
With a filthy glance towards Xander who had settled into a sullen heap in the corner of the booth, Spike tried to recover the situation. There were details he needed to work out this evening and he didn’t fancy doing it in the parking lot.
“Look, I’m sorry mate. We’re just a bit upset, yeah? Family problems.” There was a snort from the corner and Spike rolled his eyes. “Promise, we’ll be quiet. No more shouting, ‘kay?”
The manager looked nervously from one to the other and then nodded slightly before stalking away. As soon as he was out of ear shot the vampire growled, “Right. Where, when and how. We need to get this sorted.”
“You and Angel in the lair with an audience, last I heard.”
“Okay, two things. First, that wasn’t Angel that was Angelus. And second, who I choose to screw and where I choose to screw them are my own damn business, got that monkey-boy.” Well, this was going wonderfully, in the next five minutes they’d either have killed each other or gotten thrown out.
“No. You don’t get to say that to me any more. Last time I stayed out of your business, you tried to rape my friend, when you weren’t busy letting a whole nest of people eating demons hatch out in your crypt. As far as I’m concerned, if you and me are working together everything you do is my business.”
“Even that?”
“Even that.” It was pure bravado really, Xander didn’t want the details but he’d never seen Spike quite so agitated and he badly wanted to bring down that bad boy image.
“Fine. The short and sweet version. He’s my Sire ergo he gets to shag me if he wants to. Capiche?”
They glared at each other for a few moments and again it was the vampire that looked away first, discomfort obvious on his face. Xander was incredulous. Twice in one evening he had won a battle of wills with, of all people, Spike, the one of the cold eyes and ball-breaking bravado. He’d seen this vampire stand up to demons three times his size and not break a sweat, not that vampires tended to sweat as a rule, did they? And if they did, how did they shower and did anyone make personal hygiene products…
He blinked, cutting off his internal babble and got back to the subject. How far could he push this and still win? “And humans?”
Spike frowned at him. “What?”
“Do you do the horizontal mambo with humans, men humans?”
“Harris, what is your problem? There are things we need to discuss and my sex life isn’t…”
“Answer the question or the deal’s off. I told you Spike. Your business is now my business.” Plus seeing you squirm is the best thing that’s happened since that robot threw you through the window. He didn’t need to add it out loud; just saying it his head made him feel a whole lot better.
“As a rule, no.” Spike studied Xander’s face intently as he spoke. For once he couldn’t decipher the look on the young man’s face. “Mostly it was just a hunting thing. Catch some bloke in a club and have him on his knees in an alley before offing him. No point in letting ‘em go to waste.”
He did his best to keep any emotion out of his voice; there was no way in hell he was going to let Harris know how much this was bothering him, as it was his dreams were going to be bad tomorrow raking over this old ground. Neither did he mention Wesley, not that they’d actually done anything but there was no doubt he quite fancied the chap. He gave a small sigh. “Anything else you want to know before we move on. Whether or not I shag sheep, maybe?”
Xander felt sick at the vampire’s casual tone and he swallowed back the bile in his throat wondering, not for the first time, just how many people Spike had tortured or raped before he killed them. And that was what really bothered him about them. Not the feeding, although that was bad enough, but a vampire that killed to feed was no worse than a hyena and he had experience of that. No, it was the other stuff that separated them from the animals and that was the reason he truly despised them.
Suddenly the game took on a different, more dangerous edge, as if the vampire’s past victims were screaming out for vengeance, and damn it if he wasn’t in the perfect mood to give them exactly what they wanted. As Spike was just about to find out, payback’s a bitch.
“I guess you always played pitcher, then.”
“You have a twisted mind, Harris.” Off Xander’s stony expression, Spike continued. “Hell. All right, yes, with humans I always top, okay? Happy now?”
With a smug grin Xander stood up and grabbed his jacket. “Yeah, I think I am. And after tonight you’ll never be able to say that again. Ready to take this little discussion outside now?” It was worth the trip just to see the look of bewilderment then sickened horror pass across Spike’s face. Probably, Xander reflected, much the same expression had crossed his own when the vampire had spilled the beans about Buffy.
When Spike stayed in his seat not making any move to follow, Xander leaned towards him until their faces were only inches apart and looked him straight in the eye, “Come on, Deadboy Junior. No kneelin’, no dealin’.” With that he turned on his heel and walked out into the night.
**
By the time he pulled the car to a halt outside the building, his hands were shaking and the stairs up to his apartment seemed endless for knees that appeared to have lost all muscular cohesion. Through the door, which took longer than he would ever have believed possible to open, and he made it into the bathroom just in time, heaving the remaining contents of his stomach into the toilet.
Still shaking Xander reached for the flush, only to stop when another wave of nausea washed through him and he retched again, dragging yellowish bile into his mouth, which he gagged at and spat away. He slumped sideways onto the floor and brushed a trembling hand over his lips, thankful he had at last made it home, but drained from a journey which had involved as much stopping as driving. He didn’t know which part had been worse, trying to see the highway past the images in his mind’s eye, or pulling over when they engulfed him.
It wasn’t supposed to have gone like that. The plan had been clear in his head, to wipe that damned superior sneer away for good but then…the porcelain bowl caught him again, generously offering to support his convulsing body as well as receiving his meagre offerings. Finally finished, the young man staggered to his feet and rested briefly against the sink, averting his eyes from the mirror that hung above it, looking at himself was a privilege he would have to re-earn.
The fridge contained beer and yesterday’s pizza, neither the right material to quell the emptiness in his stomach. Lack of food or alcohol not being its cause they couldn’t offer a simple cure. That possibility exhausted, he removed to the living room and turned to the television for company, flicking through numerous channels before settling on a mindless sitcom starring the most sanctimonious jerk Xander had ever seen. The man was so far up his own ass it wasn’t even funny, so sure of his own superiority…just like you, a nagging little voice wheedled into his brain.
And there he was, back at the diner, walking nonchalantly around to the rear of the low-level building, searching out that special corner that all such places possessed, where the gas bottles and trash cans nestled together against the whitewashed walls.
This was going to be good. He had no intention of really following through and simply wanted to push the game as far as he could, generating just enough ammunition to use at a later date, the next time the vampire started insulting him.
A small yelp escaped Xander’s lips when hard cool hands grabbed his arms and propelled him against the wall, spinning him round at the last moment so he was face to face with his assailant.
“You ever, ever mention this to anyone and I swear, soul or no soul, they’ll be finding your body for weeks, you understand me Harris?”
There were flickers of gold in the blue of the vampire’s eyes and words that Xander had been saving up to gloat with vanished. He gulped and nodded; too terrified by the way events were escalating rapidly out of his control to do anything else. If he told Spike now that this was all a wind up, the vampire was going to freak and being in an alley with an unchipped pissed off vampire was not good. So he stood, ramrod straight, fingers curling into the rough wall, the render catching and tearing at his nails, looking down as Spike knelt gracefully before him and ran a hand across the front of his jeans, fingertips brushing against his totally flaccid member.
Despite the terror and the self-disgust at what he was doing, Xander felt his cock twitch and start to swell in response to the contact. There was a slight rumble from the vampire that he chose to interpret as approval and then those nimble fingers, which he had last seen grasping Anya’s thighs, quickly unbuttoned and unzipped his fly, allowing the cold night air into contact with his crotch. He should stop this before it went any further, but his pants and boxers were being pushed down past his hips and his body responded with a slight wriggle to ease their way, and now Xander couldn’t deny his collaboration. He was the one that was allowing this to move beyond a joke and payback and humiliation but he couldn’t help it, and when Spike grasped his hardening erection and dipped his head there was no turning back, the scene had to play out to its logical conclusion.
As a cool tongue ran up his length, expertly from base to suddenly sensitive tip, he gasped and let his head fall back against the wall, closing his eyes and willing himself to stillness, determined not to make this any worse than it already was. In the darkness of his head Xander took himself elsewhere, warming the mouth around his cock, making it Anya’s and that wasn’t going to work ‘cos…Jesus Christ how did he do that. His hips bucked forward involuntarily and somehow managed to drive his erection further into Spike’s throat. A warning hand on his hip and a temporary halt in proceedings and Xander was back under control; able to enjoy for a moment the feeling of having his brains scattered under an expert’s hands and mouth.
That thought nearly proved his undoing. The reason behind the vampire’s expertise and the fact that the only other male to have benefited was Angelus. The idea of being where only that powerful demon had ventured before, left Xander gasping and shuddering and fighting for every ounce of self-control to avoid coming like a kid. As if sensing how close the man had come to losing it, Spike redoubled his efforts, and Xander had to use every trick he had learned during his marathon sessions with Anya to prolong the pleasure. And so it went on, the battle of wills that had seen them fight and hate each other for years manifested, and concentrated down to one moment in time and the contact of reluctant lips around a hard cock.
Minutes passed and Xander pulled himself back from the brink several times but it was a losing battle. The vampire was learning his body with consummate ease and started to focus on only those actions which elicited the most incoherent and physical responses. As he felt the tension build again Xander opened his eyes and looked down, daring to watch for the first time. The sight bewitched him, Spike had his eyes closed and while one hand and his mouth dealt with Xander, the other was pressed into his own groin, grinding the heel of his hand into his evident arousal. The idea that the vampire might be getting off on blowing him was the ultimate power trip and, knees weakening, he knew this time he was going to come for sure.
Despite the white washed wall pressed the length of his back he felt adrift, the singular reference point for spatial cohesion lay in his groin and the universe was attempting to orient around it. Reaching down with desperate hands searching for added support, he tangled his fingers in the soft curls of Spike’s hair, bizarrely noticing for the first time that the highlights he had attributed to florescent glare were in fact permanent. The vampire’s eyes flicked open at the less than subtle touch and their gazes met briefly before Spike’s fluttered closed again with something akin to resignation. Thus sustained Xander was able to let go and succumb to the orgasm that had threatened so many times before. His fingers tightened reflexively as he was swept onward, using his grip to increase the pace until he was entirely alone, solitary fucking in a world empty of anything except his elusive goal. With a strangled moan, half-heartedly intended as a warning, his hips jerked forward convulsively, repetitively and he came again and again into a waiting immobilised throat.
Finally spent, he unclenched his cramped fingers, the circulation returning with a rush of tingling pain and the consequences were as obvious as they were immediate. His hands were batted off and the vampire pulled violently away, gagging and retching. And for a moment the stranger Xander had glimpsed framed in the entrance to the diner was back, on his hands and knees in the dirt, heaving and spitting up what he had just been forced to swallow. With a silent, strangled cry of horror Xander slid down the wall, pulling at his clothing to cover himself, shaken to the core by what had just transpired. Brain numb, he watched as Spike collected himself and stood up, hawking and spitting several times, and rubbing his mouth with his hand, his back deliberately turned on the figure behind him. It was only when the vampire was several feet away and accelerating, that Xander realised he was leaving and had the presence of mind to call out.
“Next week. I’ll be in town next week.”
**
He couldn’t sleep, the motel room stank of stale human sweat but he almost welcomed that, anything that may scour the flavour of the human from his taste buds would be desirable. Swilling his mouth out with water from the tap had simply added to the effect, the chemical aftertaste managing to wash away the flavour of the pig’s blood without touching that which was distinctly Harris and humiliation. And maybe it was payback, and perhaps in some way he did deserve whatever the kid dished out but that knowledge didn’t make the taste go away.
With a heartfelt sigh Spike flicked through the channels on the television trying to find something that would take his thoughts away from what had happened. In retrospect he had the oddest feeling that things hadn’t gone quite the way Xander had planned, there had been a slight quaver in the lad’s voice when he’d shouted after him that spoke more of shock than victory. He settled on a music channel, AOR but restful for all that, and lay down, his eyes shuttering slowly closed against the dawn. Ten minutes later he was awake again, the taste in his mouth haunting his dreams as vividly as the ghosts and in a slightly wild attempt to drown out the flavour the vampire bit into his finger, rubbing the blood over and around his teeth and tongue. Fuck it all, he should have packed his toothbrush.