Time Has Told Me

by
Pirate Purple

Part Four

Spike let himself in to his efficiency flat. One room, bathroom down the hall. Ah, the glamour of working for Angel Investigations. He was back in Los Angeles after spending a little less than a month in Rome with Buffy. Bit had gone back to school after the first week. In her absence, he and Buffy had had a hard time coming up with things to talk about. She didn’t need him like she had back in Sunnyhell, and he wasn’t in love with her anymore. Every time he brought up leaving, though, she would find a reason for him to stay. He still cares about her, love or not, so he stayed until he overheard a phone conversation between Buffy and someone she was apparently dating. She didn’t want the bloke to come by the flat, because Spike was there. He left that night, leaving a short note with a promise to call. He hadn’t called.

Not that Spike is exactly swimming in playmates just now. Every time he even thinks about touching someone that way, it always comes back to Xander. Xander is the only person who had ever bothered to rescue him, and he’s done it twice now. Spike walks to the desk that doubles as a kitchen table and takes a frame from the open second drawer. He had stolen the picture from Angel, tearing Cordelia, Buffy and Willow from the right side of the picture, and putting Xander by himself in a frame. He looks at it for a long moment before standing it on the desk, and grabbing the bottle of Jack from beside it. He falls back into the chair, throwing a leg over the arm. Lifting the bottle to Xander’s picture, he takes a healthy swig. The bottle against his lips will never make him forget the press of Xander’s, no matter how hard he wishes for it. Demon bint is probably having a good chuckle, wherever she is. He lifts the bottle to her invisible presence and drinks again, more deeply this time.

Steps in the hallway draw his attention to the door. A card slips underneath, with a post-it note attached. Leaning over to pick it up, Spike reads:

Tomorrow 9:00pm Hollywood Inn Express

The card is the key to room 237. Stumbling out of the chair, Spike throws open the door, hoping to see who had left it, but they are gone. Swearing, he slams the door and throws himself back into the chair, which creaks loudly in complaint. Staring at the key and note, he absently picks the bottle back up, taking two or three big swallows.

Spike goes to Angel to borrow a car as soon as the sun goes down the next night. “Don’t you have your own car?” Angel wants to know.

“You made me give it back to Wolfram and Hart, remember?” Spike pouts.

“Well, I have an appointment to clear out a nest of fugurth demons in some old woman’s basement. Come help me and I’ll drop you off after.”

Spike opens his mouth to argue and then closes it again, strangely reluctant to mention the note to Angel. If it’s something good, Angel’ll want it. If it’s something bad, Angel will kill it and take all the credit. Fugurth demons it was, then.

“Why did you want to be dropped off here?” Angel wants to know, as Spike stumbles out of the car at precisely nine that night.

“Got a ‘ppointment.” Spike’s lip is swollen where Angel had ‘accidentally’ clocked him with the flat of a broadsword. He is covered in small cuts and fugurth bites.

“Do you want me to wait?”

“Don’t need a sodding nanny, Angel. Bugger off.” Spike doesn’t see the smirk aimed at his back as he limps toward the neon-lit motel. He flips a two-fingered salute over his shoulder as Angel cranks a Flogging Molly cover of Kiss My Irish Ass. If the wanker weren’t so bloody Irish, his taste in music might become tolerable in a few centuries.

The room is around the back of the motel. Spike can hear a heartbeat on the other side of the door. There is a little light coming from under the curtains. Spike knocks. There is no answer. He turns the knob, and is only mildly surprised when the door opens.

If Spike’s heart had been beating, it would have stopped. Xander is sitting against the headboard of the king-sized bed, reading. His shirt is hung over the back of the chair by the bed, and the top button of his jeans is undone. The jeans are snug, and look very worn, a tear across one knee. Spike’s mouth waters instantly, and then goes dry as Xander stands and stalks over to Spike, until there is less than an inch between them. His eyes are blank, and his posture is all predator as he reaches behind Spike to swing the door shut. Xander smells of Africa, musky animal and green. Spike tries picturing mad George attending court naked and rampant, but he is getting hard anyway. Spike considers the possibility he might be mad himself. I should really say something about now.

Before he can, Xander speaks. “I think you owe me an apology,” he says quietly, soft, humid breath against Spike’s lips. Spike’s knees feel weak. He has been attracted to Xander before, but had assumed that he’d be the one making the first move. His eyes flicker down to Xander’s lips and back up again. He doesn’t quite know whether he is glad to be wrong or not.

“Do I, now?” he smirks, running his hands over the warm, bare skin of Xander’s chest. When in doubt, bluff.

He frowns when his hands are caught and held away. “Yessss.” Xander hisses, squeezing Spike’s wrists until the bones grind together.

The slight edge of pain takes all the starch out of Spike’s legs. He folds to his knees at Xander’s feet, his hands still held tightly above his head. He presses his forehead against a strong thigh, and murmurs, “Sorry.”

Both his wrists are transferred to one hand, and his head is pulled back roughly by the hair. The gaze aimed down at him is steely, but Spike can smell anxiety. This isn’t a grudge fuck, then. Xander was staking a claim. Bloody buggering hell. The boy has barely touched him, and he is seconds away from coming. Not only is Spike going to let this happen, he wants it. Wants it badly enough that it makes him nervous.

A low growl brings his attention back to where it should be. “I’m sorry,” he says more clearly. He leans back so Xander is supporting most of his weight from his hands, and tilts his hips upward, offering. “Can I make it up to you?” Spike is tempted to turn the offer into a coy gesture, but resists, keeping his gaze straightforward.

He is more tempted to sigh in relief when the ice in the brown eyes melts, heating until there is fire. Spike’s skin prickles and burns. Xander releases his hands, and Spike brings them immediately to the small of his back, hard-learned lessons from decades ago making the action automatic. He begins to breathe, long, slow breaths, trying to bring himself under control. Xander holds his head for a moment more, and Spike’s eyes are locked on the brown ones above him. “Try,” is all Xander says, releasing his head, but not his eyes.

Spike runs his hands up Xander’s thighs, knees to hips. Straightening up a little on his knees, he pulls his gaze away to kiss the spot just above the navel in front of him. He can’t stop himself from glancing up to gauge Xander’s reaction. Ponce. The expression on Xander’s face is unreadable, but he strokes Spike’s hair gently. Spike forcibly resists the urge to press his head into the comforting hand, cursing himself for needing reassurance. He starts to pull away, going back to what he was doing, but the hand in his hair stops him. He looks up again.

“I’m not Angelus, and I’m not Buffy,” the voice is still quiet, and the eyes are sad. Spike starts to say that of course he knows that, when a warm hand cradles his face, a calloused thumb brushing his cheekbone. Just like that, he knows, knows exactly what Xander is trying to tell him, trying to show him. A tear runs down his cheek despite his best efforts to keep it back, but there’s a thumb to brush it away before he can be embarrassed by it. He tilts his head slightly, resting it on the hand supporting it.

A long moment passes like that. It’s not a perfect moment. The trust between them is still in the planning stages, and they are both afraid of being hurt. Both of their thoughts wander into the future and try to weigh the pain that might be found there against what they are feeling here and now.

Doomed to an eternity as a sodding girl. Time to put an end to the bloody picture moment. Spike leans forward and licks a long stripe up Xander’s zipper, thanking whatever gods heap blessings on vampires that the overly sappy moment doesn’t seem to have dulled Xander’s interest any. Xander’s hand clutches Spike’s head convulsively, and Spike encourages him by moaning open-mouthed over the swelling he finds his face pressed against. Xander hisses and presses harder. Spike sucks on the denim-covered bulge until they both start to tremble, then pulls back and undoes the button and zipper so slowly that Xander starts growling. Spike grins up at him, mischievously.

“Go ahead and tease. I’ll just make you pay later.” Xander’s voice is low and throaty. Spike whimpers, a shudder flows up from the base of his spine, and he grips himself, trying to stave off the orgasm, but it’s too late. He’s been teetering on the edge since he landed on his knees. Xander just chuckles. “I don’t recall giving you permission for that. You’ll have to pay for that, too.” He lets his jeans fall to his feet and kicks them to the side. He’s not wearing anything underneath. “Strip.”

Finally. Spike immediately pulls his shirt over his head, and then stands to take off his jeans. He almost nicks himself with the zipper when Xander leans forward and takes Spike’s nipple between his teeth. The denim falls to the floor. He gasps and yanks Xander closer. He yelps at the resulting sharp smack on his backside.

Xander ignores his pout, and points to the bed. “On your back, hands above your head.”

Just like that, Spike starts to get hard again. Kicking the pants aside, he leaps for the bed, flips in midair, and lands in the directed position with a cocky grin and a bounce. Xander just rolls his eyes and opens the drawer in the bedside table. He pulls a piece of red silk cloth out, and ties Spike’s hands. “I’ll have to get Giles to lend me his manacles,” he grins. Spike knows that should probably repulse him, but instead, he starts to ache from being hard. Xander casts a significant look at the growing slick spot on his belly. He drags a finger through it and holds it to Spike’s lips. He eagerly fellates Xander’s finger, moaning when it is pulled slowly away. Xander turns and pulls a few more things out of the drawer, standing so Spike can’t see.

When he turns, it’s to snap a leather ring around the base of Spike’s cock. Spike groans, partially from the warmth of Xander’s hands on him, and partially because it’s been awhile since he’s let anyone rule him like this, and it makes everything so much more. He’s aware of every inch of his skin as Xander straddles him, and they are again up close. “I’m going to kiss you now, okay?” Xander says, and Spike almost grins at the incongruousness of the request, considering his position, but Xander’s face is serious so he nods, instead.

The kiss goes on and on. Spike shivers every time Xander’s tongue brushes his bottom lip. He’s burning where Xander’s skin is against his, and cool from the air conditioning everywhere else. Spike loses the battle to be still as Xander kisses down the line of his jaw, and by the time his lips brush the sensitive spot behind Spike’s ear, the vampire is actively writhing. The thrashing turns to shaking when Xander sucks on Drusilla’s mark. Spike starts to gasp, fighting for breath he doesn’t need. Xander lifts his head to whisper, “Someday, if you’re a very, very good vampire, and I think you deserve it, I’ll put my mark on you. You’ll belong to me.”

Spike grits his teeth, knowing it’s too soon for the word that’s trying to escape. Over a century of emotional fortification, and this man had burned through it in less than an hour. He arches up, his body going rigid as Xander’s teeth break the skin just above his nipple. Xander’s hands hold his waist, supporting him, and then slide down his back and arse, laying him down gently. Spike gives a wordless cry as Xander’s fingers slip between his cheeks, and then the words come tumbling out. “Please, please, please…” he chants, not sure if he’s asking for more or less.

“Tell me what you need.” Xander’s hands have become soothing, rubbing from mid thigh to hip, but even that is sending jolts directly to Spike’s groin.

Spike’s beyond stopping himself, now. “Yours, anything, anything…” he trails off into mindless keening when Xander’s thumbs find the hollows of his hips.

“That’s not a decision you get to make while naked. You will be fully clothed, unrestrained and not otherwise distracted. I want you to be fully aware of what you are giving to me and I want you to do it of your own free will.” A slick finger is stroking Spike’s pucker. He starts trembling again. “I am going to fuck you now, though.” Another thunderstruck cry as two slick fingers enter him. “And you’ll belong to me, at least a little bit, while I’m doing that.”

Spike would really like to say please again. He would like to beg and plead and cry, and use every pretty word he’d ever learned as a poet, as large, calloused fingers carefully open him. He can’t seem to get enough breath to form words, and when Xander positions himself, sliding in unhurriedly, he is reduced to whimpers. He arches his hips, but Xander grips him tightly and holds him still.

When Xander is fully seated, he leans over and kisses Spike slowly and with painstaking care. He begins to thrust, slowly, angling so Spike’s prostate gets almost constant pressure. His hands are everywhere, it seems, and Spike’s skin is continually tingling in anticipation of the next touch. He starts to squeeze Xander on every thrust, and eventually the boy loses the tight control he’s using to torture Spike. He lifts Spike’s hips, and the vampire wraps his legs around. Slow and torturous becomes hard and fast, and Xander reaches down and unsnaps the leather ring. Spike’s orgasm is white-hot flame that consumes him so utterly, he doesn’t even have time to cry out before the world goes white.

Spike wakens in the wee hours. There’s a soft rushing noise coming from behind him, and Xander is singing softly.

“Time has told me
You're a rare rare find
A troubled cure
For a troubled mind.

And time has told me
Not to ask for more
Someday our ocean
Will find its shore.

So I`ll leave the ways that are making me be
What I really don't want to be
Leave the ways that are making me love
What I really don't want to love.”

He’s staring at the ceiling when Spike rolls over to look at him, and running his fingers over the bracelet on his wrist. Spike finds it interesting that Xander manages to make it somewhat masculine. It hadn’t looked that way on Dawn. Spike remembers the girl they bought it from. She had introduced herself as Free, which Spike had mentally sniped probably meant ‘free demon chow,’ as she was a street kid. She explained that she was trying to get some money together before she moved on. Spike had pulled a handful of bills out of his pocket, and pressed them into her hand, telling her to find someplace safe to sleep and a ride out of town. She had insisted on giving them something, taking the bracelet from her own wrist and sliding it onto Dawn’s. Spike had been very hungry until he found a Shyajah demon to kill, about ten days later, who had two hundred dollars in his pocket. “That sounds like dry grass in the wind,” he says softly.

“Didn’t mean to wake you.” Xander stops moving, but his fingers stay on the beads. He doesn’t look at Spike. “I’m going back to Boston tonight.”

“Ah,” Spike replies noncommittally, trying to puzzle out whether the statement is an invitation or a dismissal. They’re both silent for several minutes. Neither of them can come up with a good excuse for leaving the motel room at a quarter to four in the morning. Finally, Spike breaks the silence. “You think you could make me yours a few more times between now and then?” Love’s bitch, every sodding time. He rubs his fingers over the place where Xander had bitten him, now as smooth as the day he was turned.

Xander finally looks at him. “I think maybe I was wrong to start that.”

“The bloody hell you say!” Spike sits up to glare down at Xander. “I don’t go around giving it up to every bloke who claims I owe him an apology, you know.” He throws off the scratchy sheet covering him, and starts to get out of the bed, but Xander’s hand on his arm makes him pause. “What?”

“Hear me out?” Xander releases his arm, but again, holds his eyes.

Spike tears his gaze away, gets his pants from under the chair, puts them on and sits in the chair. “I’m listening.”

“Are you? You look like you’re in one of those moods where whatever I say will bounce right off you.” Xander sighs.

Spike has an angry retort for that, but it dies on his tongue, because Xander is right. He is silently amazed at how fast the defenses went back up, given how he felt just a few hours ago. He replays the things Xander said to him then in his head. He doesn’t think he imagined the amazingly strong connection. Maybe he can fix whatever Xander thinks is wrong. “Point taken. I’m ready now.”

“I’m going to die in forty or fifty years, if not sooner.” Xander holds up a hand to stop the denials he knows are coming. “If I mark you, make you mine, and you meet someone after I’m gone, you might regret it. I don’t want you to ever feel that way about us. But I also don’t know if I can handle the whole you and Buffy thing without permanent, tangible proof.” Xander sits up and leans back against the headboard. “I know that’s a hugely unreasonable thing to ask, at this point. Diving off the deep end. It’s way to soon to ask for that kind of commitment.” He turns, putting his feet on the floor, and faces Spike. “I know how I feel. I know what I need. That may not be what’s best for you. I wouldn’t want to hurt you on purpose, but I’m mortal. I can’t stop that.”

Spike tries to feel impending disaster. He knows this could be the biggest mistake he’s ever made. But when he thinks about who Xander is, and the things that have happened since he met Xander… the chip, Buffy, the soul, Dawn… The more all those things start to feel like a dress rehearsal for what he knows he’s about to do. He stands, letting the unbuttoned jeans fall to his feet. Stepping out of them, he stands in front of Xander until the man looks up. Capturing his gaze and holding it, Spike kneels at Xander’s feet, slowly and deliberately. Just that simple act makes him hard. “I trust you.” Crossing his wrists, he offers them to Xander.

Xander doesn’t answer, doesn’t move, barely breathes for nearly ten minutes. Spike tells himself that this reaction is shock, and not rejection. He steels himself to wait as long as it takes. Xander is trying to find something in his eyes, and Spike tries to fill them with all the trust and certainty he feels. Xander holds his wrists gently between the palms of calloused carpenter’s hands. “Are you sure?” Spike breathes a sigh of relief and nods. “Say it again,” Xander orders, very quietly.

“I trust you.”

“You were so supposed to be clothed when we had this conversation.” Xander shakes his head, laughing.

“I was clothed when it started.” Spike grins. “Besides, you like me naked.”

“Keep teasing. I’ll burn all your clothes, and you’ll have to be naked all the time, like Ferengi women.” Xander kisses him on the forehead. It feels like a benediction. “Go shower, I need to make some calls. Use the things you find on the shelf above the toilet.” Spike glances down at his erection and quirks an eyebrow at Xander. Xander smiles, nearly as menacing as the demon from the cave. “I really wouldn’t if I were you. If I remember correctly, I already owe you two punishments.” The grin gets wider and more evil at the pulse of precome that spills down the side of Spike’s cock. “Go.”

Part Five

Spike goes. He leaves the bathroom door ajar, and turns to examine the contents of the shelf. The groan that results is loud enough to cause chuckling on the other side of the door. There’s the sandalwood soap, lemon shampoo, and mega-strength conditioner that Spike prefers. Next to them is a bottle of lube and a black silicone plug. It’s not huge, but it’s big enough that Spike knows getting it in his arse without coming is going to take a minor miracle. He showers quickly, knowing that extended touching is probably a bad idea. He knows Xander will expect him to be clean when he takes the plug out, so he’s thorough, though it leaves him trembling. The towels must be Xander’s because they’re huge and soft. Spike dries extra carefully, before realizing he’s just delaying the inevitable. He carefully avoids his prostate, slicking himself with two fingers. He’s as brief as he can be, but he’s seriously considering either giving up and dealing with the consequences, or going to beg Xander for the ring he wore last night. He knows Xander is still uncertain, though, so he very much wants to be perfect. Bloody ponce. He shrugs. If the blouse fits… He pours some lube on the plug.

He’s bent over, his eyes screwed shut tightly and breathing heavily as the last bit slides in, so he doesn’t hear Xander’s hum of pleasure from the doorway. There’s a small puddle of precome on the tiled floor between his spread legs, which gets added to when the angle changes as he stands up. Xander slides up behind him and puts his arms around Spike’s hips to snap the ring on. Spike moans.

Xander puts his arms around Spike, who moans again as Xander’s hardness presses against the base of the plug. “We have an appointment. Get dressed.” Spike wants to laugh at the absurdity of the idea that he can go anywhere like this. Xander kisses the back of his neck, drops some clothes on the closed toilet seat, and leaves. The jeans are his usual black, but the tee is blue. No underwear.

When he finally manages to get the jeans zipped without catching himself in the zipper, he goes to find Xander. Xander is on the phone, changing his flight and buying another ticket. Spike smiles a small smile, but Xander sees it anyway and pulls him over by the belt loops to rub circles on his back. Spike strokes Xander’s hair tentatively at first, relaxing when Xander smiles up at him. Xander thanks the ticket agent and hangs up, looking mischievously at Spike. “We have about an hour to kill. I think we should get one of your punishments out of the way.”

Spike’s eyes get wide. He’s pretty sure he’s going to enjoy whatever Xander is up to, which is a problem, because it really feels like his dick might fly off like the cork on a champagne bottle at this point. Xander seems to have inferred this thought process. “Say it,” he orders.

“I trust you,” Spike murmurs, but Xander accepts it. He unzips Spike’s jeans carefully, and pulls them down to his knees.

“C’mere,” he says, spreading his legs and pulling Spike down over his knees.

Fuck. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck! One of Xander’s big, warm hands is covering half his arse, and the other is firmly in the small of his back. Spike knows he’s going to come the first time Xander’s hand comes down hard. The last person to make him come this way was Angelus, who took great delight in humiliating him by doing it in front of the girls whenever the fancy took him. He trusts Xander, really, he does, but he’s not ready to be this vulnerable. He knows there have been cracks in the Big Bad persona for years now, but he’s not ready to go without it. “Xander… please, don’t.”

“Why not, Spike?” Xander’s question is gentle, almost as if he expected this.

“I can’t do this. Please.” He closes his eyes, waiting for the laughter he knows is coming.

Spike is still hard, and isn’t struggling to get up, though, so they continue to sit like that as Xander asks, “Do you want to stop being mine?”

“No… no. Just… not this, please. Please, Xander.” Spike is breathing again, though he’s trying to stifle it against Xander’s leg.

“I want to know why, first.” Xander rubs Spike’s back, but doesn’t back down.

“Angelus…” he whispers. His muscles tighten. He’s expecting anger and not laughter this time.

“Haven’t we already been over the fact that I’m not your sire?” There’s no anger in Xander’s voice, just gentle understanding.

“Yes?” Spike sounds uncertain. Xander waits. Spike thinks for a few minutes, and then it clicks. “You know.” He sounds defeated.

“I know,” Xander confirms. He spent ten days discussing Spike with Angel, with the occasional insight from Mpanga. He’s pretty sure that if there’s something he doesn’t know, Angel doesn’t either. “But I’m not Angelus. I’m not going to find it funny that you can come from being spanked; I’m going to find it very, very hot. In fact, there’s a very good chance that I won’t be able to resist fucking you.”

Spike moans, but Xander doesn’t move until he arches, pushing up against the hand that rests on him. Rubbing gently, Xander asks, “Are you sure?”

“I trust you.” Spike feels a flash of heat just from the words, which is only intensified the first time Xander smacks him. He’s so lost in the sensation that it gets to the point where he doesn’t think he’ll be able to sit comfortably for at least an hour before he remembers something important. “Xander… the ring. Please, let me come, please!”

Xander chuckles, and unsnaps the ring with one hand without stopping the regular pace of his hand on Spike’s arse. Spike opens his mouth to scream, but all the air in his lungs just goes whooshing out. He just lies there, limp, after. He knows he should get up, that lying here with his bum in the air is not putting any patches on the Big Bad persona he was clinging to a few minutes ago, but he’s too fuck-drunk to care at the mo’, ta much. Xander leans back in the chair and strokes his back, from the nape of his neck to the curve of his arse, in long, slow strokes. Spike hums contentedly. When he feels like he can do so without just flopping onto the floor, he slides to his knees between Xander’s spread thighs.

He rubs the inside of Xander’s thighs, glancing from the bulge in his jeans to the hungry look on his face. In for a penny, might as well be in for a pound. “Xander, can I taste you?” Not quite as bold as he wants to be, but it is enough. Xander nods and lifts his hips, and Spike unzips the jeans and slides them down and off. Xander moans as Spike slides cool lips down his length in one long, smooth stroke. Xander fights the urge to arch into the cool suction, but Spike encourages him, guiding his hips in an up-and-down motion. Soon Xander’s hands are in Spike’s hair, holding his head while he thrusts, and Spike’s hips are twitching as he fights the urge to rub himself against Xander’s leg.

Xander comes with a stifled, “Fuck!” Spike swallows and licks Xander clean. His head is tilted up with a hand on his chin, and Xander runs a thumb across Spike’s swollen lips. “Do you like it when I fuck your mouth?”

Spike nods, looking down. Somehow, his inner Victorian is horrified at the matter of fact filthiness of admitting such a thing out loud. It’s a different thing to say things in the moment.

“I want to hear you say you like it when I fuck your mouth.” Xander murmurs into his ear, and he shivers. “I want you to look me in the eye and tell me how much it turns you on when I use your body for my pleasure.”

Spike groans, knowing he’s already lost, when the phone rings. “What?!” Xander snaps into the phone. “Oh, sorry. Yeah, we’ll be right there.” Xander hangs up, throwing the phone a filthy look. “Saved by the bell this time.” He fixes Spike with a speculative look. “I won’t forget, though. I’m going to make you describe, in detail, everything you’ve ever wanted someone to do to you.” Spike shudders and nods. “If you belong to me, all of you belongs to me. Even your fantasies. Especially those. Still want to be mine?”

Spike takes Xander’s face between his hands and kisses him, slowly and softly, but thoroughly. “I want to be yours. I trust you with all of me, even my fantasies. I like it when you fuck my mouth. It makes me nearly frantic with need when you use my body for your pleasure. I am yours.” Spike shoves his inner Victorian into the closet.

“Oh, baby,” Xander groans, leaning his forehead against Spike’s. “That deserves a reward. You think of something good while we’re out, okay? Let’s go now, though. The sooner we do this, the sooner we get back.” They shove themselves back into their pants quickly.

When Xander opens the door, Spike suddenly sees that careful consideration went into picking this place. It’s full daylight outside, but the building itself throws a deep shadow halfway out into the lot. Angel is pulled up close to the building. Xander holds the front seat forward so Spike can get in the back. Spike balks. Xander just looks at him. ”Still want to be mine?” hangs unsaid between them. Spike climbs in, and Xander puts his hand between Spike’s head and the frame, protecting him. Sitting, Spike grabs Xander’s hand before he can move it away, and places a kiss in the palm. Xander caresses his cheek before he sits down. Apology and acceptance without words, and Spike realizes that this is protecting him, too, not giving Angel an opportunity to comment. He has no doubt that Angel knows. His sire obviously told Xander some interesting things to cause such a change in his behavior. He suddenly knows that as long as Xander lives, Angel will never humiliate him again. No one will. He allows himself to bask in that feeling, shoving aside the thought that ‘as long as Xander lives’ is a finite time.

He toys with the idea of seeing how far he can goad Angel before his sire does something that makes Xander squish him like a bug. The thought makes him smile, and that’s all the satisfaction he needs right now. He leans his head back, closes his eyes, and enjoys the slightly squirmy feeling he’s getting when the bumps in the road jolt the plug. He’s hard, but it’s not urgent at the moment, though he’s sure that Xander could easily make it urgent with no more than a raised eyebrow at this point. He knows he should be wary, but honestly, when has he ever held back when he was in love? The words haven’t been said yet, but if Spike is honest with himself, he knows it’s only a matter of time. In the rare moment that he’s less than completely terrified, he can admit that that time is more likely to be measured in minutes and hours than days and weeks.

Ironically, knowing he could back out even now, and Xander would accept it makes him feel less safe. He wants Xander to tell him that if he leaves Xander will hunt him down and drag him back kicking and screaming. Chain him; fuck him over and over, until he’s so high on endorphins he can’t stand, much less walk away. That even if he’s a complete prat, he has no choice but to let Xander love him. It’s particularly ridiculous because he’s as likely to walk away as he is to turn into shrubbery.

Spike dozes on and off while they drive. The car stops sooner than he expects and he opens his eyes. They’re at the Hyperion. He’s suddenly much less relaxed. He wants to start demanding information, but then Angel will know how nervous he is. Xander takes his hand when he steps out of the car, squeezing gently.

He relaxes a little when Xander doesn’t let go. The lobby is only slightly brighter than the underground parking, but Spike can see someone on the couch. “Ah, you’ve arrived.” Spike pulls Xander behind him as the being slithers toward them.

Angel strides forward, hand extended. “Reverend Dark, it was good of you to come on such short notice.”

Xander puts his arms around Spike and holds him. The ‘Reverend Dark’ comes closer, and Spike can see that his bottom half is that of a huge snake, but the top part looks human, olive skin under a mop of black curls. He looks at Angel and snorts. “Angelus, you know that shit is just for the tourists.” He has an interesting accent that Spike can’t place. He turns to Spike and Xander and holds out his hand. “My name is Sosipolis, but my friends call me Sosi. I set up my rig in one of the cleaner rooms upstairs. We should talk a little first, I think, though.”

Spike extends his hand. “ ‘M Spike. Good to meet you.”

They shake, and Sosi says, “You must be Xander,” over Spike’s shoulder.

“Yup. The one and only.” Ignoring a muttered thankful comment from Angel, he continues, “I thought you should be the one to explain, since you probably understand the process better than I do.” Spike forces himself to relax. He really hates not knowing what’s going on.

“Why don’t you come upstairs with me, Spike. We’ll call down for Xander once we’ve talked.” Sosi holds out a hand.

Spike throws Xander a panicked look as he feels the arms around his waist withdrawn, and he is given a gentle shove forward. “I’ll be right next to the phone, I promise,” Xander says, and prods him forward again.

Spike nods shortly, visibly pulling the tattered mantle of ‘Big Bad’ back around him, though he lets Sosi squeeze his shoulder reassuringly. “Stairs aren’t really my thing,” says his guide, as he allows himself to be led to the ancient-but-somehow-still-functional elevator. Sosi is talking, but Spike doesn’t hear him, his eyes fixed on Xander as the doors close.

Angel turns to Xander, who is watching the lights over the elevators doors go up number by number. “So, it worked, huh?”

Xander nods without looking away. “I didn’t really give him a choice.” He shakes his head, and finally looks over at Angel. “I’m not sure this is right. Are you sure I’m not just using him? I’m not so good at commitment, remember Anya?”

Angel puts a hand on Xander’s shoulder. “You did the right thing, with Anya. I believe you were right to think the two of you would have been bad for each other. You were too young, and she was too newly human. But you’re older now. If you’re really not sure you should go upstairs and stop this before it goes any further, because if you hurt my boy, I’ll eviscerate you myself.” A flash of gold crosses Angel’s eyes as Xander meets them.

“He’s not your boy anymore!” Xander insists hotly, and then looks down and blushes at what he’s said.

“Exactly what I wanted to hear you say,” Angel grins.

“I know you still have feelings for him,” Xander states, apropos of apparently nothing.

Angel knows better. “I can’t love him the way he needs to be loved. Angelus was never capable of it, and me…” Angel fades out for a minute. “I didn’t have to leave him or Dru. Especially him, though.” He straightens, clearing his throat, “But I did. And he really needs someone he knows isn’t going to do that. Have you told him what Sosi found?”

“No,” Xander squirms a bit, “I was afraid to. Sosi said he’d explain.”

“You know he’s going to have to hear it from you before he believes it, right?”

“Yeah.” Xander looks back at the elevator. “I know.”

Angel disappears for a minute, returning from his office with a two-liter of root beer and a box of Twinkies. “So…” he grins at Xander, “show me how this ‘comfort food’ thing works.”

Xander can’t help grinning back, and relaxes a notch. “You’re the best father-in-law ever!”

Angel grimaces. “I’ll keep you in Twinkies for the rest of your life if you promise never to call me that again.”

Part Six

The last part. tabaqui has already infected me with another bunny for this 'verse, though.

Spike is sitting in a chair in the room Sosi has temporarily claimed. Sosi is still talking, but Spike’s mind is elsewhere. He startles a bit when a bottle of Jack thumps down beside him.

“Do I actually have your attention now?” Sosi smirks at him. Spike nods, finally noticing his surroundings. As he looks around the room, he notices a huge snake on the bed. Okay, it’s not as big as Sosi, but it’s a cobra, and it’s bigger than it should be, Spike thinks, and jumps in front of Sosi, who chuckles, and sits him back down. “That’s Eosimias, my bond-mate.” Turning to the bed he says, “Simi, how are we supposed to have a conversation? I’m pretty sure Spike isn’t fluent in Nageesh.”

Spike knows shape-changers exist, but he’s never actually watched one change before. The huge black snake becomes a naked, mahogany-skinned, young man with eyes a deep chocolate color, like Xander’s. “Bugger me,” Spike says quietly.

Simi laughs. “I’m not sure Xander would appreciate it if I did that.” He looks thoughtful a minute, and amends the comment, “Then again, he just might. We should ask him.” He grins mischievously.

“ ‘Kay.” Spike says, a little more flummoxed than he wants to be.

Sosi smacks the younger man on his thigh. “Stop distracting him. We need to explain about the bond.”

Simi looks unrepentant. “If I keep distracting him, will you do that again?” He blinks up at Sosi coquettishly.

Spike can’t help but grin at Sosi’s sigh. It reminds him of the early days when he’d aggravate Xander just to have his attention. Back in Sunnydale, in that horrible basement where he’d had no idea how happy he was. Afterwards, at Wolfram and Hart, it had been Xander’s quirky sense of humor he’d missed. The acid banter between the two of them that didn’t stop them from watching Godzilla marathons or playing hours of pool on Xander’s rare nights off had been what Spike had clung to as he felt everything he was shifting out from under him. It hadn’t been until much later, waiting for Xander to return to the cave a little over a month ago, that he had realized it.

Simi nudges Sosi, and grins, “See how he looks when he thinks about Xander? This will be a good bond.”

Sosi nods. “There are some things we need to discuss, first.” At Spike’s nervous look, Sosi waves his hands. “It’s not bad, but this is different than bonds between vampires. You shouldn’t go into things blind, you know.” The ophidian man fixed him with a serious look. “I’m a demi-god. I was worshipped in ancient Greece, along with my mother Eleutho. I don’t know who my father was, but it was rumored, back then, that he has something to do with why bad things happen to people who break oaths that are taken in my name.” He pauses and waits for Spike to nod that he understands, then goes on. “When Greece fell, and people stopped leaving offerings at my temple, I began to take people’s oaths in return for sustenance, food, shelter, what have you. I traveled the world for several centuries. I found myself in India, in the 1800’s. In my country, it didn’t really matter what gender your lover was, and men who dressed as women were usually holy,”

Simi interrupted, “It was that way in India once, too.”

Sosi nodded. “Yes but European influence changed that by the time I saw your country, love.” He paused to pet the raven-black hair that leaned against his ribs. “Eosimias’ mother was a hajira, a holy prostitute, and blessed by her gods. In spite of the fact that she had been born a man, she gave birth to Simi.”

“How?” Spike interrupted, fascinated.

Simi answered him. “We don’t know. Perhaps a god was one of her clients. She was famed for her skill in the city where I was born. That didn’t stop them from stoning her to death.”

“I’m sorry,” Spike thought of a horrible night in Prague with Drusilla.

Sosi petted his lover’s head and continued the story. “They tried to kill Simi, as well, when he reached puberty and began to manifest his ancestry. But I happened along.”

Simi smiles up at the other man. “He saved me.”

Sosi snorts. “And how did you repay me? Spending the next five years doing your utmost to drive me insane!”

Simi smiles at Spike conspiratorially. “I wanted him, but he thought I was too young.”

“You were too young.”

Simi makes a horrible face at his lover. “I was old enough to know what I wanted.”

Sosi sighs with the air of a man who has had the same argument many times before. “Regardless, sanctifying the love between men became of special interest to me soon after. We spent some years in Europe – “

“He made me go to boarding school!” Simi interrupts again.

“If you don’t stop interrupting, I’ll make you wish you were back there.” Sosi says, calmly.

“Yes, sir.” Simi doesn’t look worried, though.

“How long have you been together?” Spike says, while he can get a word in edgewise.

“Let’s see,” Simi says. “I was at the boarding school for about two years, so that would make it 1887, I think? Then I went to Cambridge for four years so I came back in about 1892. I learned to be persuasive while I was away.” Simi grins widely.

“Don’t.” Sosi says, sternly.

Simi sticks his tongue out at Sosi. “He was sleeping in a chair when I got home. I woke him up.” He leers at Spike.

“Simi!”

“I didn’t!” Simi replies. He turns to Spike. “Did I?”

“Um, no?” Spike replies, completely confused, and not certain what he’s agreeing to.

Sosi just shakes his head. “As I was saying. When I make a bond, it’s different than the ones between vampires. Your bonds with Angelus and Drusilla were broken when they left you, yes?”

Spike nods, not liking where this is going.

“Bonds that I create are not so easily broken. An oath taken in my name is particularly binding. Bad things tend to happen to those oathbreakers.”

Spike shakes his head. “I don’t want anything bad to ever happen to Xander because of me.” He leaves unsaid the fact that he’s going to be working off a karmic debt for what he’s already put Xander through, possibly for the rest of his unnaturally long life.

Simi laughs. “The two of you are perfectly matched. Xander said the same thing about you the first time he talked to Sosi. You’re missing the point, though. Xander knows your history, especially with Drusilla. By willingly submitting to the bond, he’s showing you how much he’s willing to do to prove to you that he won’t leave you. If you do the same, you’ll be telling him that he’s the primary object of your affections, and you won’t leave him either.” He doesn’t mention Buffy specifically, but her presence hangs heavy in the air.

“Simi has a PhD in psychology,” Sosi replies to Spike’s somewhat stunned look. “He works as a relationship counselor.”

“You’d be amazed at how many vampires I get as clients. Eternity is hard on a relationship.”

Spike grunts an agreement, lost in thought for several moments. “So what’s the catch?”

“Well, ordinarily, the bond is broken when one of you dies. Because you, Xander, and Dawn are sharing a destiny now, it changes things a little.” Sosi explains carefully.

“I knew it. Sodding magick.”

“Hear Sosi out, Spike. I have a feeling that you will be okay with this.” Simi crosses the room and sits in the chair next to Spike’s, placing a warm hand on his shoulder.

“The bad news is, if one of you dies, you all die. The good news – “

“There is no sodding good news! How do I undo it?” Spike is up and pacing now. He’d been hoping some demon would rip his head off before Niblet and Xander died. “You know what I do, right? Saving the world has already killed me once. I nearly died in an alley when Angel tried to save the bloody world. This isn’t safe for them!”

“You can’t undo it Spike, anymore than you could undo your soul, even though you desperately wanted to.” Simi leans back in the chair, away from Spike’s wild gesticulating.

Spike sits down suddenly, on the bed. “Shite.”

Sosi sits next to him. “Can I finish now?” He waits for Spike to nod before he continues. “The good news is that none of you will die of old age or illness. Because your destinies are entwined, they are effectively as immortal as you are. Maybe not as indestructible, though. A car accident or a bad fall that wouldn’t kill you might give them terminal injuries.”

“Then again, they might not. But it’s not like we’re going to test it.” Simi adds.

Spike laughs. And laughs. And laughs. He’s finding it hard to stop. This is much too good to be true.

Sosi looks worried, but Simi just grins back at him. They wait patiently for him to calm down.

“No, really. What’s the catch?” He says when he can form words again.

“Well, like I said, eternity is hard on relationships. You may decide in ten, or a hundred, or two hundred years that you want to move on. I’ve heard that it’s possible, but the parties involved were pretty miserable without each other. You’re not looking at a few more decades with Xander, at this point.” Simi points out.

Spike starts laughing again, but it’s much shorter this time. “That’s the only catch? Really?”

“As far as we can tell.” Sosi replies.

“I told you you’d be okay with it.” Simi adds smugly.

“I need to talk to Xander.” Spike says, suddenly.

“Go ahead and call down. Sosi and I will go keep Angel company.” Simi leers at Spike again, and Spike has to wonder if the shifter can read his mind.

Sosi allows himself to be dragged out of the room by a still-naked Simi. Spike absently wonders if Sosi has made the same threats about clothes as Xander, as he dials the lobby.

“I’ll be right up,” Xander says, when he picks up the phone, and immediately hangs up.

Spike fidgets with a cigarette while he waits. He doesn’t light it. He sits with his back to the door. Watched pot never boils.

Xander knocks before he comes in, and sits down beside Spike, carefully not touching him. Spike knows Xander is trying to respect his space, and not influence his decision with their physical connection, and for some reason, this makes him irrationally irritable. He knows it’s unreasonable though, so he doesn’t do anything but light the cigarette. “Spent my entire mortal life as a poet, and still can’t manage to find the words when it’s important.”

Xander nods. “I’ve never really been good with the verbalizing, either.”

They spend a long five minutes saying nothing. Spike stubs out the butt of his cigarette. Spike looks over at Xander, who has a thousand-yard stare directed at the carpet. He knows Xander went through a lot of trouble, and probably a bit of expense to come to L.A. and get him. “Why did you come get me?”

Xander looks up. “Spike, do you remember how messed up you were the last time you tangled with that demon? I couldn’t let you face that alone. Not after everything you’ve done.” Xander’s arm tenses and relaxes, and Spike knows Xander wants to touch him.

“I meant here. I walked off with Buffy. I haven’t been as good to you since I met you, as you have been to me just since we woke up.”

“You need someone to be good to you. I’m good at that. I want to be the one who’s good to you.” Xander looks back down at the carpet.

“Who’s good to you, Xan?” Spike wants to know.

Xander just shrugs. “Lots of people.”

Spike shifts closer and buries his face in Xander’s shaggy hair. “Let me be the one who’s good to you.” He gently turns Xander’s face towards himself, and kisses him.

Xander smiles a goofy smile when his lips are released. “ ‘Kay.”

“Enough of this poofy nattering, then.” Spike flops backwards on the bed, pulling Xander down on top of him. “I wanna shag.”

Xander just laughs and pulls his shirt over his head.

~*~*~*~*~

Dawn met them at Logan, bouncing with barely contained maniacal glee. She threw herself at Spike the minute he walked through the security checkpoint. After hugging the unlife out of him, she pulled back and said, “If you ever, ever disappear again, I will hunt you down and make you listen to Xander’s CDs on repeat for a hundred and six years.”

“A hundred and six? Isn’t that a bit harsh, Niblet?” Spike has an arm around her and they’re walking toward the baggage claim, but he hasn’t relinquished Xander’s hand, either.

“Well, his taste in music has actually improved since Sunnydale. It’s not quite the hellish punishment it once was.” Dawn winks at Xander.

Xander sniffs haughtily at them. “Just because the two of you are uncultured, doesn’t mean I have to be.”

“Pet, there is something seriously wrong with your definition of culture.” Spike practically cackles.

Xander bumps him gently with his shoulder. “You like me, even if I’m a Philistine.”

Spike just grins back, but Dawn is squealing in a register only dogs can appreciate, “You two are so cute!! I knew you would be! Didn’t I tell you, Xander?”

“You did.” Xander grins.

Dawn drives a Prius. Spike gawks. “Niblet, don’t these things cost a fortune?”

She giggles. “My translation fees are exorbitant. I speak at least three demon languages and one human that no one else on this continent is fluent in.”

“Good on you, Bit.” Xander decides he really likes Spike’s ‘proud uncle’ face. Then they start grunting at each other in what Xander thinks might be Fyarl, so he gets in the back seat and naps on the way home.

He wakes up when the car stops. Dawn is telling Spike, “Yeah Xander has actually picked up quite a bit of the languages as I study them. He’s really good at a lot of the African ones, which he came back with, but he also speaks a couple of demonic languages that are similar. I can’t pronounce a lot of what he can say. It all sounds like clicks to me.”

Xander says, “I love you both, but why aren’t we home?” in Letherian, to illustrate her point.

“We’re going out for dinner. I don’t wanna cook.” Dawn says.

“Well, cooking is very not my thing, so out for dinner it is.” Xander yawns and stretches. “Where are we going?”

“Don’t worry, I made plans.” Dawn turns left, onto Newbury Street.

“Famous last words, if I ever heard them.” Xander retorts.

They actually stop at Xander’s favorite Vietnamese restaurant. The hostess leads them into the banquet room. Buffy, Willow, Giles, Angel, Sosi and Simi are all sitting at the huge table.

“Plans?” Xander raises an eyebrow at Dawn.

“The plan is for those berks over there to apologize. The rest of us are just here to be immoral support.” Spike sits down next to Simi, and pulls Xander into the chair on the other side. Dawn pointedly sits between Xander and Buffy, shooting her sister a look.

“So, uh, apologizing? Why?” Xander’s confused. He hates not knowing what’s going on.

“Well, it has been brought to our attention that we’ve been taking you for granted.” Giles begins.

“And we haven’t been listening. You told us what Dawnie said right before she… left, and we didn’t believe you.” Willow adds.

“Spike told us what he saw in the cave. About your trials. He told us what you said to the demon about family. You’re right. You’re our heart, and we forgot that, and we’re sorry. We’re going to do better, starting now. When you can take a vacation, we’ll all go, wherever you want. Spend some quality bonding time.” Buffy concludes.

“I’ll only go if Spike and Dawn are invited too.” Xander says, quietly.

“We know about the bond, Xan. We’re a little surprised, but if you’re happy, we’re all good.” Buffy speaks to Xander, but she’s looking right at Spike, who nods.

The food starts coming before Xander can reply. Xander is willing to bet that Dawn and Spike had a hand in bullying everyone so that all the dishes on the table are something he likes. He feels his eyes well up, but he blinks them away. Spike notices anyway.

“You okay?” He leans into Xander.

“Yeah. This is just… You didn’t have to do this.”

“You need someone to be good to you. I’m good at that. I want to be the one who’s good to you.” Spike quotes and kisses his temple.

Xander leans back into Spike. Simi passes them some chili noodles, which are Xander’s absolute favorite. “Thanks,” he grins at Simi. He looks around the table and sighs contentedly. This was family. His family. He puts his arm around Spike, and lets his fingers wander under the collar of the ubiquitous tee, brushing the symbol under Spike’s left collarbone. He feels a tingle in the matching one under his right.

This was something to fight for.

The End

Time Has Told Me

by Pirate Purple

Part Five

The End

by
Pirate Purple