Archive of Our Own ^beta

        They’d been searching for the annoying cursed artifact for hours now, and had nothing to show for it.  By now, Xander was beginning to believe it didn’t exist.  In fact, he was beginning to believe that none of this existed and it was just a ridiculous dream where he had to search for something for hours and never found it.  He was no stranger to that kind of futility.  In fact, by this point he was pretty sure he was on first-name terms with it.

        “How much longer until we become searchers of the giving up variety?” he asked hopefully.  Surely they could be doing better things by now.  Like eating donuts.  He’d be happy to go for donuts.  Ice cream, even.

        “Not giving up,” the predictable response came back from the Slayer.  She paused, and admitted, “…although I’m starting to think that we were lied to.”

        Willow popped up from behind a pile of books, red hair covered in dust.  “Well, yeah, you kind of did get that information from a demon that you slew.”  Her eyes widened as she noticed Xander reaching out for a necklace, glittering at him from a hanger.  “I wouldn’t touch that.  I think it has a spell on it.”

        Donut Boy sighed and let his hand fall.  Necklace pretty.  And yes, thanks brain, gone from babbling to Caveman Talk.  Just happened every now and then.  Not a problem.  As annoying as it could be.  At least he wasn’t drinking any spelled beer.

        As they were leaving, the Buffster finally acknowledging defeat, Xander couldn’t help himself.  The necklace was practically calling out to him.  He had some idea of how things would turn out; contrary to those vicious rumors, he wasn’t stupid.  It was the Hellmouth.  All sorts of things could happen and did on a fairly regular basis.  That kind of temptation, he knew, only came from magic, and he knew, also, that things like that never were good.

        He reached out and touched it anyway.

        He felt a vague sort of surprise as his ears popped and a kind of pressure-not unpleasant, just strange-began building up behind his shoulderblades.  He saw Buffy’s shocked face and heard Willow’s yell of fear and surprise as if in slow-motion.  That’s funny, he thought, look how slowly they’re moving.

        And then everything sped up, and there was a louder popping sound, and, why, Xander Harris, meet Swallowing Darkness.

        Xander felt a slight surprise upon waking up and finding himself at college.  How he’d got there, he wasn’t entirely certain, but the not-being-dead bit of the good.  Or exploded, or all sorts of unpleasant side effects.

        His backpack was sitting next to him.  He didn’t remember having owned one, but it had all his books in it, so it was obviously his.  And wait, Xander Harris, you’re missing something important about this equation.  Xander Harris, or at least the one he was acquainted with, didn’t go to college.  The Xander Harris he knew lived in his parent’s basement and went through an embarrassing number of jobs that he wasn’t going to think about, no.  No, not now, not ever.

        He sat up, scrubbing at the back of his head.  Strangely enough, there was a Giles ‘What Have You Done’ speech playing in his ears, even though the Watcher wasn’t here.  Well, former Watcher, anyway.  That was sooo a sign he’d heard it far too often.  Xander, my man, you are going to have to get in less trouble.  Or try anyway.

        He picked up his backpack and struggled to get it onto his shoulders, then walked awkwardly down the hallway, absolutely not sure where he was going.  Oh, yeah, dorky Xander.  Some things never change.

        The next thing he knew, someone ran into him and his books were all over the floor.  He tried to apologize without looking up, picking up everything that had spilled out, when a very mean foot came down on his hand, and he muffled a howl, staring up.  Oh, yeah, bullies.  Things don’t change, Xander, even when they obviously do.  What was going on?  Besides cruelties of an entertaining nature, at least for some people.

        One of the jocks was smirking at him.  “Stupid Harris.  When will you ever get the idea that you don’t belong here?  You can’t make it.”  “I heard that he only came back to college because he got kicked out of his parent’s basement,” someone muttered, which soon got hearty guffaws.  “You’re stupid.  You should get the message, Harris.  People like you belong in menial jobs for the rest of your life.”  “How in the world do you manage to ignore the need to hurt something as dumb and ugly as this?” a blonde hanging off of one of his tormentors asked, sounding honestly a little bit drunk, and he would know, because he served alcohol for a bit, and he’d seen enough of that, and she kept talking, and he tuned her out, because he didn’t need to hear about his family life, he had enough of that living it, thank you…

        The knee in his ribs hurt like he was going on fire, and he could have sworn he heard a crunch which kind of freaked him out, and through the haze he heard, “It’s impolite to ignore people.  Especially my girlfriend.”  And they proceeded to work him over, and they were kind of impressive, because they knew how to truly hurt him without showing too much so they probably wouldn’t get in trouble, and he’d learned to appreciate people who knew what they were doing that well…

        And suddenly the pain from at least one source was gone, and the others were shortly turning their attention to something else…and he caught a sight of a short girl with light hair.  Buffy.  Embarrassing.  Really, he should fight more, at least, fight and win, because this having your friends-who-are-girls saving you thing was too far.  Right now, though, he couldn’t think, the pain obscuring everything else.  He could hear a voice, and it sounded a bit off, but really, he could drift off, because he couldn’t bring himself to care right now.

        He picks up his books and stands up before he looks at Buffy.  Not that he’s not grateful, but there are a few questions that should be answered, like why he’s suddenly attending college, and…

        And his brain shuts down completely and does its best to restart.  That’s not Buffy.

        That’s Spike.  At least, he thinks it’s Spike.  Aside from the whole, well, he’s a girl thing.  And a really pretty girl at that.  Still high cheekbones that you could practically cut yourself on, and no, not thinking about blood in the presence of a vampire, even if he-she-probably can’t hear him, and still spiked bleached hair and porcelain skin, with a punk-like effect.  And those are somewhat smokey grayish black eyes, which isn’t exactly what he’d had as a guy, although Xander hadn’t been looking of course.  Boots, jeans, hey, it’s just as if she’d just walked off the set of the Matrix, with that leather jacket.  Fairly large ears, somewhat tight shirt, Halloween themed, cause Spike doesn’t need a holiday to wear something scary.  And she’s smirking at him with a knowing look.  “Xand, luv, you don’t need an invitation to look.”  An eyebrow, the one with the scar, raised suggestively, and Xander most certainly did not let out a high-pitched girlish scream and run as far as he could in the opposite direction, hoping that this stopped soon, because really, this was just some sort of nightmare.

       
        Xander was beginning to get frustrated.  This was the fifth time he had explained that Spike should be a guy and a vampire and totally not on their side, and he didn’t go to school and he was really, reaallly sorry about touching that necklace, but couldn’t things go back to normal soon please?  And every single time, Giles had sighed in a long-suffering manner and then asked-again-was he sure that his memories were all intact, because it sounded like someone had messed with his memories.  Everyone was staring at him in a oh-poor-Xander-why-does-all-this-stuff-happen-to-him way but no one was taking him seriously.  Even if they didn’t believe him, they should go looking for the necklace, shouldn’t they?  Since it seemed to be the cause of…whatever?  But no, everything Xander remembered and said was suspect.  Ignore the Donut Boy, that’s right, and if he stays this way the whole time it’s all his fault, right?  Eventually, he just gave up and slumped onto the table, almost even ready to start hitting his head against it to deal with how completely dense everyone was being.

        “Really, Watcher, think ya’d have learned ta be more open-minded by now,” an English drawl met them all a second before Spike-still a girl Spike-made his-her-way out down the stairs from where she’d evidently been hiding.  Effortlessly, she leaned against the wall, the smirk looking like a permanent fixture to her face.  Which could totally be true.  “All of you, actually.  Tossers.  Before you go sayin’ ‘it’s impossible’ go take a look outside, think for a mo ‘bout where you happen ta live.”  At least Willow looked slightly guilty about that.  And since when did Spike become the voice of reason?

        “Xand, luv, you okay?”  She glanced over at him, and he was surprised to see concern in her eyes.

        “You…you believe me?”  He wasn’t sure how to react when she not only was talking sense, but cared about him and was the only one to believe him.  That was just Can’t Deal With It weird.

        The side of her mouth turned up, exposing one very pointy canine-wait, she wasn’t vamped out.  How could she be showing her vampy characteristics?...  “Course I do.  Don’t take much ta see things aren’t normal.  And we’ve known ‘bout alternate universes for a while, on th’ darker side a’ things.”

        “Most happen to be demon home dimensions,” Giles pointed out quietly.

         “Sod off.  Didn’t ask ya ta speak, did I, Watcher?”  She flashed what looked like the peace sign at Giles, but since he looked offended it must not have been the peace sign.  Some British thing probably.  She looked back at him, and when he just kept staring at her with Massively Confused Expression, she reached out and rapped his skull with a knuckle.

        “Hey!”  He tried to shrug her off, not that that would really work with the enhanced demonic strength, but oh, look, she was backing away chuckling. 

        “What with them all being tossers, ‘m surprised you’re acting even a mite normal, mate.” She actually sounded a bit affectionate, and that was just sending him into more weird territory, what with the him actually liking it portion of the program and all.  “Now let’s get about gettin’ ya home, luv.  If they don’t fancy joining in it’s their own ruddy fault.  Now.  It bein’ ya, really doesn’t surprise me, but how’d ya manage it anyway?”

        And then he went all blushy Xander and started talking about the searching and the necklace and he really couldn’t take it when the scarred eyebrow went up at him again.  “Right, Donut Boy gets distracted by shinies,” she chuckled at him again, but he couldn’t even summon up the energy to care.  She went all concerned again and practically shoved her face into his and seriously, he needed to stop getting distracted by…other things, because that would definitely not be of the good.

        “’m thick, luv.  Travel through portal, ‘course you’re right knackered.  He’s goin’ in the spare bedroom, Watcher.”  Spike ignored Buffy questioning things and Giles’ worried arguing and managed to pick Xander up with ease, putting him into a fireman’s carry that would be much more ridiculous and worrying if he wasn’t so tired and it wasn’t so warm.  He settled for less of the thinkage and more of the snugglage into the nice soft warmness, because it was nice, and after what he’d gone through he could do with a bit of nice.  He didn’t realize when the ‘warm and nice’ translated over into the ‘warm and asleep’.

            “Don’t want ya gettin’ too attached to me, pet.  Ya’ll go back, an’ when you do I don’t want some Slayer accusin’ me ‘o breakin’ ya.”  He blinked.  Spike sounded sad and distracted and really, were those tears in her eyes?  Because that was definitely of the bad.  He’d made a Nightwalker cry.  Great.  Xander, can’t kill the demons and Things That Walk on the Supernatural Side of Life, but can sure make them feel terrible about themselves.

            He leaned forward and kissed her on the top of her head, feeling her shake under his touch as he ran his hands down her arms.  “O-kay, how about this?  You and I never get…naked…” he managed to say the word, and she stopped shaking and leered up at him, and yes, that was going to do wonders for keeping each other out of the bedroom, thanks Spike, “…and I’ll date you.  Because if she never comes and gets me, or even if it takes a while, I don’t want to have to live my life alone and miserable until that happens, and I’m pretty sure you don’t either.  And you’re really beautiful and I just want…I think it’s already too late for me if you know what I mean.  You’re my type, if I have a type, which I think I do because I’ve always liked strong women who can basically run all over me and I’m doing the talking thing, aren’t I?  I’m sorry, I can’t help myself, just Harris mouth running here…”

            She reached up and effectively shut him up, yanking his head down hard enough his head was spinning, and while he was still trying to find his brain she short-circuited it again with a kiss, biting a bit savagely and then moaning into his mouth, soothing it over with her tongue.  When she finally broke the kiss and stood back, she burst out laughing.  “Oh, look at you, luv.  Finally found a way to shut ya up, an’ I plan to use it every single time I bloody well please.”  She got more serious, at least in the Spike variety, and grinned at him.  “Surprised we’re bein’ the mature ones here, Xand.  Can’t promise I won’t get off with you, but I’ll try no naked.”

            There was another kiss, and Xander moaned and his brain put out something like “I can’t believe it either,” but it came out a bit garbled and neither of them really cared.

            Xander’s life was going good for a change and he was even beginning not to mind the whole ‘stuck in an alternate dimension thing’ as he leaned forward to kiss his sweet, strong Nightwalker, seeing as he actually had mates-friends-who actually liked him and cared about him and noticed he was around and he had a girlfriend who actually cared about him and was in it for more than the shagging-he reallly had been around her too much but it wasn’t as if that was exactly a bad thing-but then the world tilted to an odd angle and the lights went all wonky and strange color filled and he was struggling to catch his breath.  Spike went into Danger Mode, fangs fully extended and leaning forward to try to support him and figure out what was wrong.

            “Xand, luv, wot’s wrong?” she asked somewhat urgently, but with the not being able to talk thing he couldn’t exactly answer.

            Suddenly he felt a sharp tug on his shirt, and he was in Giles’ house and Willow was sobbing, so happy to see him back, and Buffy was saying something about having to come after him, and he just couldn’t stand it.

            “No!” he screamed at them, and they started to fall silent.  “No no no no no no no no no no no!”  He could hear the ghostly whisper of his beautiful Spike in his ear, telling him he was acting like a kid on a tantrum and could he please act mature for once, like she could talk, although in more English words, and more with the babble.  “You do not get to do that to me!  You do not leave me for that long, and then pull me back just as things are going good for a change!  That is a thing that is majorly not of the good variety!”  He was practically screaming at them, and they were all really confused, and then he was diving at the necklace before they could think of destroying it, because really, the one chance he’d had at a…well, not a normal relationship, but a good one, and they just had to pull him out of it before he got anything real out of it.  He heard the screaming, and then he was falling and it was easier this time.

            He saw Spike, walking home staring at the ground, kicking at the sidewalk, and then he saw drunk humans heading in her direction and now he knew what the Buffster was talking about with how the fighting felt good.  He practically charged in their direction and was on them before they realized anything.  Xander before the hop wouldn’t have known what to do, would probably have run the other direction with a girlish scream, but Spike had insisted on the fighting lessons, and his kicks and punches slid smoothly into place, and he felt a burning satisfaction as he saved His Girl.

            “Finally get wot ya wanted and ya’re back.  Absolute nutter,” she muttered under the breath, but that long, slow snog showed that yes, she missed him, and was grateful for the save even though she’d never say anything.  He understood.  Bloody chip.  Probably literally, actually, since it was in his beautiful girl’s brain.

            Spike wasn’t expecting a warm welcome, exactly, but he was expecting something besides this.  Okay, so Buffy had tied him up, and it had hurt a little, but other than that they were kind of just acting as if nothing had happened.  As if they’d expecting him ta wander in.  He’d be growling, but Buffy’s pet didn’t look so well, all pale and sweaty, and something had changed since he was last here.  Besides the whole ignoring him thing as if he hadn’t existed.  They’d just invited him in like he wasn’t a Big Bad Vampire, and they’d even sort of expected the chip thing.  Insulting, it was.

            But the pet smelled different too, stronger and more confident, despite the fact that he also smelled of about seven different diseases.  And no matter how ludicrous he found the whole Indian thing-they’d taken what they wanted, and he wasn’t the sort of person to see anything wrong with that, or with innocents getting hurt along the way-he’d be sad to see the poor boy bite the dust.  And oh, wasn’t that a rich vampire phrase there.

            “Can we focus first on the saving of me and then get on to the worrying of Spike?” the boy asked weakly, but somehow he’d found it in him to put on a show of strength.  Nice.  Had to admire that in a human, not wanting to show weakness and being strong enough to keep it from the others.  Not that they were noticing much anyway.

            “You’ll regret that, Donut Boy,” he snarled, and pounced on the little doe-eyed human quickly so as not to give the chip a chance to react.  He sank his fangs into the neck, and to his surprise pain didn’t immediately force him off.  The taste was brilliant, though there was less fear in taste or smell than he’d figured.  Boy was a White Knight, you’d think he’d be pushing the evil undead off and calling the Slayer to kill him for evil behavior, but other than a little shiver, he practically went limp and yielding under Spike’s bite.

            He gloried in it for a bit, savoring the taste of something that had been so long denied to him.  Hunting.  The blood.  The power.

            There was a reason the boy was a demon magnet, Spike realized.  The blood tasted of innocence and a little bit of darkness that was intoxicating.

            Then he realized that he’d had no idea how long it’d been, and the boy was going even limper underneath his hands.  Bloody hell, he hadn’t managed ta drink the boy dry, had he?  Because he was pretty sure that was grounds for termination of his existence.  Why hadn’t the boy struggled?  If he had, he’d probably be safe right now, not turning blue and cold, and he’d be nursing the headache of a century.

            Harris spasmed, but he still wasn’t being forced off, and he pulled away, feeling guilty for the strangest of reasons.  He hadn’t gone and grown a soul, had he?  Because if so, as soon as he could hurt humans again that entire bloody Initiative was going down in flames.

            He looked down to see a really really pale, innocent boy shaking in his hands, spasms tearing through him weakly now, and a mouth form the word ‘Spike’ and eyes try to focus on him, before the head fell back and the breathing stopped and he was definitely in trouble.  Now came the choice-let the boy drink, and condemn him to an unlife as his childe, in the probably two seconds he had left to live, or let him die.  Either way, he’d be in deep, deep trouble.  Buggering hell, he thought, and slit his wrist with one fang, bringing it to the brunette’s mouth.  Boy was too pretty to die.

            The kid latched on to his wrist and started gulping like he hadn’t had anything to drink in a long, long time.  He felt a surge of affection and ran his hand through the boy’s hair.  Soft.  Nice.  He’d take care of the boy; seemed he’d have to, since the bloke seemed to have absolutely no survival instincts on his own.

            The kid, Xander, startled awake, and looked every inch as panicked as William had been when he was dying.  It was okay, though.  As his sire, Spike would try to make everything okay.

            A shaking finger was pointed in his direction.  “You killed me,” he accused unevenly, shivering with what smelled like fear.

            “All ya had to do was show some pain,” Spike pointed out reasonably, still feeling unaccountably guilty for what had just happened.

            He wasn’t sure what he expected, but an angry Xander flying across the room to tackle and bite him wasn’t it.  He wasn’t sure why, really.  Violence went hand in hand with vampires, and especially him, which just pleased him more.  Havin’ a playmate who liked it rough was nice.

            But then his childe was stumbling away from him, and he let out a growl.  What was the boy playing at, anyway?  The eyes were dark, deep with anger and lust and what might just have been hope.  “Shut up, Spike,” he stated good-naturedly and proceeded to feel for a pulse.

            “Ya won’t find anythin’, luv.  Killed ya fair an’ square.”  Why couldn’t he stop feeling so sodding guilty about the whole thing?

            The boy grinned at him, and he knew he was just loopy now.  Mad as Dru.  “Nope, I’ve got a heart beating and everything.  Just going to check.”  Before Spike could do anything but make a dive that he had to abort quickly to avoid being dusted, the idiot opened the door and walked outside, into the sunlight, and Spike felt the sudden loss drive into him.  Couldn’t even save his own childe.

            He was midway into the third cigarette and stewing in his own utter impotence when the door swung open and he heard a voice he’d thought was gone for good.  “I thought I told you not to smoke in my apartment, Spike.”

            The fag dropped from his lips, and he couldn’t do much more than lean against the wall, staring like a loon.  Now that he was thinking, he could hear the heartbeat from across the room, but how?  The boy had died.  He’d heard the heartbeat stop, made the decision to turn the boy rather than let him die, and yet there he was, still alive.  But the boy’d also bitten him, and didn’t he feel all proud at that thought.  Bitten and attacked him.

            The boy shook his head at Spike, angry.  “And don’t go getting any sire thoughts on me.  I’m obviously not a vamp.”  The kid looked deliriously happy and just a little bit off his rocker, but his body was trembling as he crossed the room.  Luckily he hadn’t tripped on anything, which wasn’t like the boy at all.  His hand was shaking as he picked up the phone and dialed the number for the bloody Watcher.

            “Um, hi?  Yeah, I know, Giles, it is late, but I…it’s kind of an emergency.”  Now that he was looking for it, he could see the nervousness, adrenaline running through the boy.  Maybe he was just wired, not completely insane.  The voice dropped as the boy admitted, “I…um, I think I’m a Nightwalker.”

            That made Spike sit up and listen.  He’d never heard of it before.  There was a kind of demon he’d never heard of before?

            Apparently it made Giles listen, too, because there didn’t seem to be any more dithering about complaining that the boy was wasting his time.  The boy gulped.  “Nooo, I’m pretty sure it’s true, what with the fangs and the surviving in sunlight bit.  And, oh, bugger, I’m hungry.”  Boy had picked up a few words from him.  Spike was so proud.  Some more listening.  “No!  No no no no, I do NOT want to eat anyone I know.  Just, gross and eww and maybe some of the bad, ya know?” 

            The breathing got harder, and Spike could smell the anxiety from across the room, and oh, no, did the sod still have a soul?  But wait, how’d he survive the sunlight?  Too much going on and not enough answers, and Spike just wished he could still beat some out of people.

            “But I really want chocolate, and pizza, and some of that Chinese, and lots and lots of soda, and more candy, and…and I still babble.  Still of the babblage.  That’s good, right?” 

            And Giles must have said something to comfort the boy, because he was actually smiling, and a growl worked out of his throat.  It was his territory to comfort the idiot, not some old Watcher!

            “Lookin’ forward to it, G-man.  Kind of scarily so, actually.  Again with the creepage.”  Xander-that was his name, Spike remembered-frowned, and ran a hand through his pretty hair.  “Look, talk about it soon?  After I’ve eaten?  Cause I’m hungry and I’m probably going to eat everything I have left in my fridge.  And probably still going to be hungry.”  When he hung up, he looked over at Spike and shook his head.  “You can talk all you want, Spike, but I’m going to be eating.”  He seemed a little pointed, maybe even obsessed, and Spike felt his hackles rising again at the fact that his pet was ignoring him.  Again.

            Yet he couldn’t help paying attention as his pet practically stalked over to the fridge and proceeded to grab out every food thing he could find.  Except the blood, which was sitting in the back, and although Xander gave it a hungry look he ignored it.  Useless souls.  More trouble than they were bloody worth.  Unless, of course…all he had was pig’s blood, in which case, he didn’t blame the boy.  Stuff was disgusting.

            His pet proceeded to tear into everything as if he was starving, even eating some of the meat raw, and those were beautiful white fangs tearing into the meat as his beautiful pet forgot all about everything else and lost himself in the feeding.  Okay, so it was human food, but that didn’t matter so much, and by the time the doorbell rang the food was all gone and Spike had forgot about the fact that he was supposed to be interrogating the pretty boy, not just staring at him.  The sight of the human face without ridges and the delicate, almost dainty fangs was exotically beautiful.

            Giles stepped in, looking warily at the two of them, and Harris had already grabbed the food and begun tearing into it hungrily.  He looked up eventually, face covered with chocolate and tomato sauce, and Spike couldn’t help but laugh.

            “I brought the blood, but…Xander, I’m not going to give it to you.”  Spike stared over at the Watcher…well, former Watcher.  Was the man lacking any kind of self-preservation?  Withholding blood from a newly formed sort of vampire, even if it was showing signs of guilt and a soul and obviously wasn’t a normal sort of vampire, well, that just wasn’t something you should do if you wanted to stay alive for more than five seconds.

            Xander groaned, a guttural, low groan that made Spike feel a twinge of excitement.  He knew the feeling, and would gladly hold down the man for his pet to feed if he could.  Donut Boy backed up, moaning in pain, clutching at his head and sliding down the wall.  “Don't want to, I’m hungry, I need, but no, no, not G-man, not Giles, not friends, no, hungry, need, want, never, Giles, please…”  He was crying, rocking himself back and forth in the pain, and this just brought back memories.

            “I need to know it’s still you,” and Giles’ eyes were hard, and Spike actually managed to feel a bit of surprise and respect flow through him.  Okay, so the man was utterly off his rocker, but he was putting himself in danger, all for a test.  He began walking over to the boy, eyes hard, with a gait that just screamed ‘predator’, and that was something that Spike really found interesting.  So there was a story to the ex-Watcher that he really needed to hear at some point.  Giles crouched beside Xander, looking every inch as if he was the one that could hurt the boy and not the other way around, and bared his neck. 

            Xander turned his head away and rocked faster, a low, pained whine beginning to tear its way from his throat, the level of panic rising quickly.  “Not killing friends.  Friends of the good.  Killing friends of the bad.  No killing, or biting, of the friends.  Don’t wanna kill anyone.  Just want it to go away-the pain, the everything.”  A growl rose from Spike’s throat, that his prettyboy might even think about getting himself dusted.  Apparently what with the panic attack and all his boy had passed the test, though, because Giles got up and went to his things to retrieve the blood, which he tossed to Xander.

            Immediately on the smell the boy went into instinctual mode, fangs extending and ripping open the packet gently.  He managed a quiet, “Don’t watch,” before getting all messy, blood dripping down his lips and making him look rather delectable.

            “As if that’s happenin’, luv.  I’m the evil undead, an’ he’s supposed to watch.  In the title an' everythin'.”  About time someone remembered he was here.

            He looked rather shamed, but finished the blood and wiped himself off.  “That’s disgusting, and I can’t believe I enjoyed that,” he admitted, voice shaking only slightly.

            “Now, you said you were a Nightwalker.  Absolutely certain?” Giles asked, sounding serious for once.

            “I kind of…yes,” Xander answered, at the same moment Spike answered, “Well, he’s certainly not a normal vamp, wot with the sun.  Pretty sure he’s still souled too.”

            “I am aware of both symptoms, thank you, Spike.  May I assume that this particular predicament is your fault?” Spike was both insulted and pleasantly surprised.  He hadn’t been immediately blamed for anything that went wrong.  Well, he’d been asked about it at least.

            “Idiot kid.  Ya oughta teach him ta struggle if someone’s bitin’ his neck, ‘specially if that’s all he needed ta do ta drive away the dangerous vamp.”  The blame was best put on Xander, because as the Big Bad, Spike was just acting as he was supposed to.  Right?

            Giles sighed and turned back to Xander.  “Might I also assume this has something to do with what happened three months ago?”

            To Spike’s surprise and everlasting delight, his boy blushed.  He really needed to hear that story.  Then the brunette nodded wordlessly.

            “Right.”  The Watcher pinched his nose, despairingly.  “What else have you noticed?”

            “Stronger, faster, can smell emotion.  And feel it, if it’s strong enough.  Um, a little more of the wibbly wobbly.  Just, kinda, like strands, on the air?  It’s weird, and kinda worrying ‘cause…She never mentioned this.  Really hungry, but then, you sorta noticed that.  Also with the blood.  No Game Face, just the movie normal person fangy.  Oh, and the heart beating and the lungs breathing, always a good sign.  And the being able to survive in sunlight.  Haven’t tried crosses or holy water yet.  Stakes could probably kill me just like the next human person, if it gets my heart.  I mean, the whole bleeding thing would probably be of the bad.”  He babbled on without breath, but no, that really was a steady heartbeat across the room there.

            “Wot’s a Nightwalker, pet?” Spike asked, but they both ignored him.

            “From my research I’ve concluded that the ‘wibbly wobbly’, as you put it, isn’t a traditional characteristic of the Nightwalker.  There haven’t been any others of them as far as I’m aware, just you, but there has been some research into other dimensions.  Instead of a defect in the turning method, I’m inclined to believe that it’s more of some sort of resistance…well, on your part now.  Perhaps a mutation of some kind, or some sort of conferred magical protection.”  Ah, the Watcher had gone into Research Mode.

            “Just a suggestion, G-man,” Xander stated tiredly, “…but maybe you should call the girls so they…well, the Buffster especially…don’t decide I need staking.  I’m not good with the staking.”

            Giles was pulled back into the here and now, and that made quite a lot of sense.  “Right.  I’ll do that.”

        “Will someone please tell me what a Nightwalker is?” Spike whined, and finally Xander gave in.

        “Human-vampire hybrid,” he offered, and Spike raised an eyebrow.

        “Tain’t possible, pet.”

        “Lovin’ bein’ impossible, here,” the brunette returned with the ghost of an English accent, and he was just full of lovely surprises today.  “It’s like…I’m the Doctor, which is really cool.”

        Spike blinked.  “Since when have ya known ‘bout anythin’ good on the telly, mate?”  He was met with a grin.  Instead of blustering denial, or insults of his own viewing choices.

        “Oh!  I’m a mutant!  I could totally go to Xavier’s Academy now!  I’m like Wolverine!”  Spike felt torn between laughing, being annoyed that Xander appeared to be completely missing the point, or smiling at the enthusiasm his pet was showing.

        Angel came up, sniffing slightly at the air.  There was a familiar scent, and he could just barely hear Xander talking with Cordelia.  He stopped for a minute, listening to the conversation, wanting to be informed before he just walked into the situation.

        “You knew!  You knew about Doyle, and you didn’t tell me!”  Well, wasn’t that just wonderful.

        “I…wasn’t anything you could do about it.  It was a fixed point in time.”  Cordy said something really uncomplimentary to him at that point, because he could hear the verbal flinch.  “Okay, forget I said that, but…seriously, it was kind of…okay, he saved the world, he’s a big hero, and not only would it really, really be bad if he didn’t do it, he was really awesome when he did, even though he died, and I’m not helping any am I?  But…I did good, right?  I mean, you wouldn’t have gotten any time together if I hadn’t said anything, and…”

        “Well, thanks for that I suppose,” she admitted, grudgingly grateful.  “But I can’t give that stupid power on to you, because apparently, you have it already.  Isn’t that wonderful, Xander?” she complained.

        He scratched at the back of his neck.  “No, not really.  I mean, I don’t get headaches like you do, but yeah.  Has its downsides.”

        And then Angel smelled Xander, really smelled him, and surged into the room, trapping Xander against the nearest wall.

        “Have you lost it completely?” Cordelia asked, gaping at the two of them.

        Angel wasn’t taking any chances, the ridges of his Game Face poking through.  “What are you?” he hissed at Xander, who looked equal parts scared, angry, and guilty.

        “Not a vampire,” he insisted, even as fangs dropped and his hands itched to fight back.  “Half vampire with added soul, so please, please, please don’t hurt me.”

        Spike sauntered into the room, and Angel wanted to attack him too.  “You did this to him.”

        “Please, boy didn’t even fight back.  It’s like he wanted this ta happen.”  Spike sounded calm, but Angel knew better.  Spike really hadn’t wanted to actually hurt the boy, probably just teach him a lesson.  This really was a mess.

        “Would you please sit down?  You’re making me dizzy,” Buffy complained, but Spike only growled back.  Someone had taken his Xanpet.  Who knew what they were now doing to the boy?  And he didn’t have any survival instincts, which meant that he might end up the permanent kind of dead if they didn’t get there soon.

        Spike stood outside the warehouse and willed himself to keep outside, just for one more minute.  For once, the goody goods had been speakin’ sense, because he couldn’t take all of those inside alone and protect his beautiful Nightwalker at the same time.  And he really wanted the boy alive, in the way that the boy was fangy, slightly barmy, and really, really sexy.

        Still, the words within urged him to just lose control and go there and rip all of their throats out.

        “Seriously, Harris a vampire?  He didn’t deserve that.  Did you hear the way he screamed?  He just happened to be in the right place at the right time, bad luck.  He’s not strong enough to take the power.”  Sounded like a dumb athlete, with just enough strength in the blood to make him tasty.  Spike willed his beautiful Xanpet awake, to eat these goons.

        Another voice spoke, a chit’s.  “Don’t worry, we’ll have his power soon, and he’ll writhe and beg us to eat him before he dies.  He’s already done as much when we’re human.”  There was the sound of metal on flesh, and a growl tore its way from his throat.

        Another bloke, sounding more than a little drunk on power.  “Those who can take power deserve to keep it.  Those who can’t stop others from stealing their power, well…”  Ugly laughter followed.

        “Hurry up, Slayer,” he muttered under his breath.  Because he couldn’t leave his Xanpet in the hands of those…chanting people.  He recognized the language, and felt his undead heart squeeze.  They were planning to steal his power, make it their own, and the process would be some of the worst torture he’d ever seen, not to mention painful and probably kill the boy.  …He was in love with the bugger.  Great.  Well, he really was love’s bitch, and he could deal with this later.  After a good spot of violence.  He ‘oped that their spell worked…a bit…just so he could fight them with a minimum of pain.  They really deserved to have their throats ripped out.

        He heard the signal and stalked quietly into the warehouse.  “He ain’t a real vampire, ducks.  But ya’ll be gettin’ a taste a’ real vampire, soon enough.”  They looked up at him in surprise, fangs beginning to extend, wavering as if not quite sure whether to be real, from their mouths.  Good.

        Soon Buffy was right next to him, kicking and punching, and he admired her fighting spirit, especially when it was used to hurt the people who’d dared to hurt his boy.  He tore open a throat, his head giving a twinge but not a wracking headache, and the others turned to look at him as one, growling, aroused at the scent of fresh blood.

             He looked down at the crumpled figure and for a moment refused to believe it was his Xanpet.  The boy was in pretty bad shape, shaking uncontrollably, blood dripping all over the place.   They’d beat the boy, and that probably didn’t even compare to what they’d done to his mind.  Small whimpers quietly escaped the luscious mouth, the chest barely rising and falling.  Without a word, he bent to pick up the boy and cradled him to his chest, ignoring the hunger that came to the surface at the fresh and dried blood.  Feeding had only gotten Harris into enough trouble before.  He didn’t want to make it any worse.

             
              He wasn’t a very happy bunny when Angel insisted he come over and try to help, as if the great pouf was useful for anything or was still his strong sire instead of a brooding souled vamp.  He’d showed concern for the both of them, and had tried to get Spike to leave Xander’s bedside.  As if that was happening.

              “Sod off,” was Spike’s only reply.  Eventually, he did the only thing that would calm him and his sleeping pet down, and clambered into bed with the great poufster watching, half laying on top of his pet and stroking the hair.  Xander, to his surprise, actually did begin to settle, face becoming less scared and pained.  He could feel the heartbeat, steady and strong, a necessary reminder that his lovely boy was alive.

              “He’s not your childe,” Angel tried to remind him, still standing outside the room uncomfortably.

              “Bloody hell, no,” Spike agreed, “…he’s much be’er.  My Nightwalker.  Don’ ya have some broodin’ ta do?  Seem ta be behind your quota taday.”

              Predictably, Angel sighed in response, and left to do who knows what.  Brood, probably, seein’ as that was one of his favorite pastimes. 

              Eventually Xander stirred, and blinked, confused and weak, into Spike’s eyes.  “Spike?” he asked, barely audible even for the vampire.

              “Ya all right, pet?  Scared us all.”  For once, no jokes, no insults.

              “Why are you in my bed?” he asked, ignoring the question, focusing on the embarrassing part.  He might as well go out and say it, see how it went.

              “Love ya, Xander,” he stated quietly, knowing that if he was rejected the resurgence of the Big Bad was likely to be beyond anyone’s control.

              The boy’s response wasn’t anything like he expected.  A small, sweet smile, like that of a child, came over the innocent face.  “Oh, good.”  And then an arm reached up and tried to draw Spike’s head down, but there wasn’t enough strength there to do that.  Spike swallowed and came willingly, but oddly enough the boy averted his head last minute.  Feeling cheated, the vampire decided to try to get up, but the minute he did…

              There was a sharp pain where neck met shoulder, and then euphoric bliss.  The boy bit him, and was now drawing blood as fast as he could drink, shivering.  Breathy moans occasionally fought their way free of the vampire’s throat.  Fighting through the pleasure, Spike tried to figure out what that meant.  From a vampire, something like that following a declaration of love meant that the attachment was returned.  From Xander, that might mean that the boy was just hungry.  Always hungry, that one.

              But then, the boy hadn’t struggled.  The act of being fed upon was always five parts pleasure and four parts pain, but even so, most couldn’t turn off their minds to ignore the pain, or the fact that they might die, and that knowledge of mortality was something most humans freaked out about.

              Instead he’d laid there, trusting Spike not to take too much.  And the scent…so much like that even now coming from his lovely pet…

              He’d been getting off on it, Spike realized.  He was now.  And then the fangs were being withdrawn, and a gentle tongue soothed the hurt away, closing the punctures in the skin as if they had never been.  The head turned back toward Spike’s, and the vampire could see the love, trust, lust, and innocence warring in those eyes.  A beautiful smile crossed those features, and he was in for the long run now.  “Love ya,” Xander admitted, with the ghost of an English accent tracing the voice lovingly.  An echo of Spike’s accent.  There was definitely a story there.  One he’d love to listen to.

              Later.

              He leaned down toward those gorgeous lips, glistening with blood, and instantly Xander was engaged again, giving as good as he got.  Spike felt a shiver of excitement thrill through him at the taste of his own blood in the boy’s mouth.  When Spike bit his lip, he did the same, and it drew a moan from them both.  Their tongues battled for dominance, and Spike felt the sigh of annoyance tease its way through his mouth and down his throat as he won due to cheating.  Then again, the boy’d never said nipping the tongue was off limits, as long as he didn’t accidentally bite it off.

              Oddly enough, with as much passion as they’d started, the kiss turned into something else by the end.  If anything else, it grew stronger, but in a different way, becoming sweet and tender, the lips speaking the words their voices could not, asking questions about commitment and eternity, loyalty and love, and answering in kind, and they did not pull away for a long, long while.

              When the boy eventually couldn’t hold his breath any longer, he pulled away, panting, and smiled what was probably the biggest, most endearing smile that Spike had ever seen.  “Ta,” he whispered, pulled back a little of the blanket, and snuggled down closer to Spike, falling asleep within seconds.  A strong feeling of affection, stronger than the vampire could remember in his unnaturally long existence, worked its way into his chest, making him feel cozy and loved.  He rolled his eyes, but nosed his way into the curls so his forehead was resting against Xander’s, and petted the chocolate brown hair for a long, long time.

        I just can’t help marvelin’ at my White Knight.  Dunno what I did, exactly, ta get all this, but if I knew I’d do it a hundred times again.  I can have my love, an’ my spot ‘o violence, an’ apparently that’s enough for me.

        He’s been a bit quiet, tonight, an’ it’s not normal.  Tired, too, an’ whiter ‘n he should be, bein’ half human.  I can hear him, natterin’ away back there with Red, but he’s lackin’ his usual energy.

        I turn, unable ta keep my eyes off him any longer, just as he sways, an’ manage ta catch him.  Slayer’s just come out, ‘n she’s glarin’ daggers at me, but I don’t right care.  It’s Xan I'm concerned about.  She can go off an’ rot.

        “Xan, what’re you playin’ at?” I ask, trying not ta sound too concerned.

        He clutches at me like a lifeline, an’ that’s when I know something’s definitely wrong.  “Hurts,” is his only reply, an’ doesn’t that just make me nervous an’ frustrated.

        “Poisoned, luv?” I ask, this time not botherin’ ta conceal how worried I am an’ how much I’m gonna tear open whoever’s behind it, an’ he opens his eyes and grins at me weakly.  He knows I’d kill for him.  It ain’t somethin’ ta be laughed at.

        “Sick, I think.  You know, it’s something humans do?”  He reaches out, one hand playin’, fascinated, with my shirt collar.

        “You’re not human, pet,” I whisper back, tryin’ ta still be mad at him, not ta give in ta how cute he looks.

        “Half human.  Close enough.”  He yawns like a pussy cat, all wet an’ adorable, an’ his large, chocolate eyes drift closed, even as he rambles on half-heartedly.  Probably doesn’t even realize he’s still talkin’.  “Spike arms, arms of Spike, safe now.  Sleep.  Want to sleep.  Wore myself out, apparently, that’s what homework does to you, that’s why I dropped out.  Wait, no, didn’t do my homework before.  Why am I doing it now?  Silly Xander, doing homework is for Wills.  And, y’know, not skipping class.  It’s okay, though, right, ‘cause Spike’s there.  To support me and remind me why I’m doing this again, ‘cause it’s not because I miss high school, that’s for sure.  Or Snyder.  Want Spike.  Need Spike.  Mmm, smell of Spike.”  He nuzzled further inta my shirt, turnin’ soft an’ boneless.  I look over, helpless, an’ Red’s standin’ there, tryin’ ta conceal a smile.

        The Slayer’s marched up ta me, tryin’ ta look all dangerous, an’ I have ta laugh at the thought of her attackin’ a helpless vampire with arms full of her best friend.  Not that she wouldn’t, mind, but the thought is ridiculous, an’ with her claimin’ she’s got the moral high ground, too.

        “Spike, what have you done with Xander?” she asks, all fiery fury, and I smile at her.  Best way ta piss her off, I’ve found, when she’s angry.  Xan’s defense, ‘specially when others are angry at him, is either jokin’ or smilin’.  Confuses the enemy.  Best thing is, ties ‘em up.  Don’t know how they should respond.

        “You’d blame a bloke even for germs.  Then again, won’t say I didn’t see that comin’-you blame me for everythin’, Slayer.”  Red giggles behind me, an’ I pull Xander inta my new car.  He whimpers when I pull him off me an’ push him inta the passenger’s side, an’ I can’t help the look of sudden loss.  Carefully, I rummage around the back ‘till I found the emergency blanket he’d made me put in that morning, an’ tenderly place it ‘round his shoulders an’ torso.  He snuggles inta it, still mutterin’ about ‘smell of Spike’, an’ that made me ridiculously happy.  Right whipped, I am.

        When I finally look back at her Slayerness, there was somethin’ in her eyes I hadn’t seen before.  The anger's mostly gone.  She looks a little bit soft, now.

        “You really do care about him, don’t you?”  Her words were almost gentle.

        “You’re finally catchin’ on.  Well done, Slayer,” I state gruffly, but my heart’s not in it.  If I had a heart.  Big Bad’s goin’ all soft, now.

        She looks at me, an’ I'm surprised at all the things I can see in her eyes.  Finally understands, yeah, but more ‘n that.  Sad, grudging acceptance.  Doesn’t want me here, but she doesn’t really have a choice.  Knows why Xan loves me, ‘n wants me around.  She’ll never like me much, but she’ll respect an’ tolerate me, for the sake o’ her friend.  Fierce protection, didn’t think he knew what he was doin’, but then, they’re always underestimatin’ my Xander.

        Just like that, I'm part o’ the family.  It’s surprisin’, really.  Ta look at them, you’d think with all their differences an’ misunderstandings an’ rows they’d be easily shattered.  Probably be right, too, but they always come back together, ‘cause ties of blood are stronger ‘n anythin’.  They’re not related, but the bond…now I’m lookin’ for it, it’s there, shinin’ out stronger than the stars.  Not sure what it is, or why it’s there, but I’m happy it is.

        It’s familiar, that fierce, protective love.  Like comin’ home.  It’s like a vampire’s family, a vampire’s love.  Sure, there’s hurt an’ pain ta be had, and things certainly aren’t gonna get any easier.  But there’s also the belongin’, an’…any one of ‘em would die protectin’ the others.  They may be human, but they’re not any less ‘n I am.  ‘n I’m not ashamed, really, now, ta be a part o’ them, ta taste in their sorrows and joys.  Knew I was in the long run with those beautiful fangs and that soft, sweet voice an’ those horrible puns.  The way Xan looks at me, with love an’ trust I know I haven’t deserved.  Innocent but dangerous, at times so naïve an’ yet so knowin’.  Now, with these ties, I don’t feel like I’m at all degradin’ myself, nor my rep as the Big Bad.  Yeah, okay, so there may be a few ‘o don’t understand, but they haven’t looked hard enough, ta see the way these seemingly weak mortals are stronger ‘n the lot o’ us, the way this mismatched crew binds stronger ‘n steel.

        “If you ever break his heart, I will stake you.”  An’ for once, I don’t hate the bird.  She’s completely serious, an’ I’m grateful.  This one I can respect.

        “If I don’t dust myself first, you’re welcome,” I’m completely serious, too, an’ she respects that.

        She nods once, solemnly, an’ then smiles.  “Xander Harris, you’re a complete hypocrite for falling in love with a vampire and I will have to tease you for several weeks straight.  Once your worrying vamp has gotten you back to health that is.”  Teasin’ among this family is a sign that the tension is gone, an’ I’m glad for that.  Been drivin’ Xan barmy-I’ve seen the signs of ‘is increased tension-the headaches, the frowns, a slight brittleness like he’s gonna shatter, estranged from his mental family just on account of Big, Bad, and Soulless here.  Surprised he had the guts ta do that, but I'm glad I mean that much ta him.

        “It’s good,” he mumbles back, and she reaches out an’ ruffles his hair.

        I turn ta Red an’ she’s smilin’ shyly.  “I’m glad.  It just…wasn’t fun, you know, with the whole everyone not being able to talk to each other and all.”

        I laugh at her, tryin’ ta look like the old me.  “Was fun for some of us, pet.”  She hugs me, and when I pull back, startled, she does laugh.  Right annoyin’, that is.

        “Yeah, yeah, sure.  Still evil and don’t care about anyone.  I won’t tell a soul.”  She smiles, an’ we both know she’s lyin’, but it makes me feel better, that I can pretend and they’ll pretend along with me.  Still got a pride here.

        “Go take care of your boyfriend, oh Big Vamp,” Slayer’s voice drifts over to me, an’ she’s laughin’ too, but means it mostly, so I nod ta them both an’ prepare myself for takin’ care of my clumsy White Knight.  I sneak a glance over at him beginnin’ ta snore in the other seat, an’ feel contentment fill me.  It’s good.

        Hey.  My name is Xander Harris.  And I’m about to introduce you to my life.

        Okay, I’m currently with my head against the table, a headache pulsing through my brain, and I may seem like I hate my life, but in reality I couldn’t be happier.  It’s not normal, but I don’t think I would ask for anything else anymore.  After relationships with Cordy (Popular Girl), Faith (a Slayer), and Anya (former Vengeance Demon), I think normal was a lost cause a long time ago.  Actually, it says a lot about my life that Cordy was the least likely, to me.  I mean, total nerd here.  She was just as surprised though.  Faith…well, to be completely honest, wasn’t entirely surprised.  No attachment there, I’d like to point out.  Just…convenience, and raging hormones, and the Slayer attitude of me want me have, with none of the…well, restraint.  ‘Cause Faith definitely would never be about any of the restraint.  And I’ve always been a demon magnet.

        That cute little redhead in the corner is Willow.  Had a crush on her, helped introduce tension to the now-broken relationship with a band werewolf.  Now, it’s back to the sort of friend-crush it’d started out as.  Me and her, I mean.  I feel sorry for Oz, as much as I know she’s happy now.  They still have something going in a universe out there, somewhere, I’m sure, so there’s somewhere, at least, where he’s happy.  I’d die for her, Willow, I mean, but I don’t really want to kiss her anymore.  Not that she’s not attractive anymore, just I don’t want to kiss her, and she’s pretty, but I don’t notice anymore…and Xander, you’re going to step away from that verbal hole before you kill yourself, or get anyone to kill you.  She’s a witch, and a powerful one.  Even I can feel that now.  And I’m not even entirely certain where I was going with that one.

        The shy blonde holding her hand is her girlfriend, Tara.  Barely know her, but she never talks, so, don’t ‘xactly get a choice, ya know?  She’s good for Wills.  And yeah, the whole ‘bi’ wagon thing was just as surprising for her as it was for me.  And she, Tara, that is, *feels* like a good person, which is enough for me.

        Over there’s the Buffster, wishing that she could stake her homework.  It works on vamps, why shouldn’t it work on other things that cause trouble for young women?  She looks over and smiles at me, and I smile back and wave.  Another former crush of mine, but I’m kind of over that, now.  Strange how being in a commitment erases the urgency to other crushes.  Like waves washing footprints off the beach, actually.  I wish she could stake my homework, too.  It’d be nice.  Wouldn’t be ruining my…everything, actually, then.  Back to Buff.  Looks every inch the small, blonde cheerleader, but that is at once everything she is and nothing she is.  She’s stronger than most people her age; more than most people who’ve ever lived, I’d wager. 

        Soldier Boy isn’t around, but he will be, eventually.  Riley.  Probably the most normal of us, and that’s of the weird considering he’s a soldier working for the government to capture Things That Go Bump In The Night by night and college student by day.  He’s still not sure how to act around this whole group, but that’s okay.  Still kind of the odd guy out, and he’ll go from outsider to insider eventually, but he’ll have to earn it with this bunch.

        Surprisingly enough, G-man’s here, but he’s taken a whole stack of books in.  Apparently he’s trying to figure out whether he should sell them off, which doesn’t really make sense to me, but whatever.  I’d like a few of them, but I’m not going to say anything, because I’d rather ease them into this instead of going ‘hey, here’s evidence I’ve changed!  Slap in Face!’  They’re still trying to get used to me, to my power, and not just ignoring me like the Joe Blah Donut Boy I used to be.  Souled, fangy, and strangely definitely NOT vamp, not to mention these headaches and fragments of the future I’ve started getting.  Nightwalkers aren’t supposed to get those, but then, I’ve been through a dimensional portal or two, and Giles is still doing research and going to get back to me on that one.

        My gaze crosses the door, and I watch as my beautiful…boyfriend (?) sweeps into the Bronze.  Yeah, he’s dramatic sometimes, but I wouldn’t have it any other way.  The waitress walks up to him, and I have to concentrate not to fang out.  Why wouldn’t they go for him?  He’s gorgeous, walking sex on strong, long legs.  Bleached hair (which looks stupid on anyone but him; but then, he could probably pull off a lot of things), short, and kind of combed (ish).  High, sculpted cheekbones, everything kind of angular, which is deceptive, because he’s actually really soft to the touch.  So dangerous on the outside, and don’t get me wrong, he’s not soft on the inside, but there’s love in there, love as strong as the violence.  For those he loves, he’s willing to do anything, and the Big Bad is mostly for those he doesn’t care about.  A scar through the edge of one of his eyebrows, adding to the dangerous image, well, that and the snoggability. 

        Beautiful blue eyes, and I swear they change…shade.  When he’s all vamped out, they’re more a predatory amber or golden, like a bird of prey.  Normally…it’s mood based.  Like a mood ring.  Don’t ever tell him that I said that.  Although if I’m just imagining that, he’ll probably snort at me and tell me I’m halfway ta bein’ Dru.  When he’s in a softer mood, like snuggling, they’re a really light blue.  When he’s angry, but not yet vamped out, they’re a hard sapphire.  If he’s somewhere in between, they’re more of an azure.  They’re rarely the exact same color twice.  He paints his nails black.  And that duster.  He’s half in love with the duster, and I don’t actually care about it stealing his attention because I love it too.  I’m willing to do some relationship negotiation if it means he’s never losing that duster.  He’s got a blood colored shirt on underneath, and jeans that look spray painted on.  Fanged skull belt, and not paying too much attention to that in public, Xan-man.  Focus.  And boots.  Definitely got the Big Bad look going on there.

        He’s…well, we’re in a relationship.  I’m allowed to think about his appearance.  A lot.  Obviously.

        The waitress is flirting and he’s flirting back.  He does that.  Often.  Still, just…can’t deal, not right now.

        Back to the paper.  Empty sheet in front of me.  Somehow it hasn’t managed to absorb the contents of my brain yet, despite the fact that I’ve sat with my forehead caressing it for the latter half of…however long it’s been.  Don’t wear a watch.  A while, I’d wager.  At least an hour?  So much for the theory of osmosis.

        I get caught up in the trying to do homework and the headache that I kind of forget about Spike, and that’s when cool, strong hands start kneading my shoulders.  “Bad day, luv?” an English accent whispers in my ear, and did I forget the voice?  I love the voice.

        I lean back into the touch, letting my brain go on autopilot.  “Mmm,” I half-heartedly agree, as the world disappears until it’s only the knots in my back going away.

        “Told ‘er I was flattered, but my beaut boyf obviously needed me.  Bint seemed put out.”  I nearly chuckle at that, but I didn’t have the strength.  I'm surprised, and flattered.  He didn’t tend to…well, our relationship was fairly new, but even so, he usually didn’t claim me.  Well, he did, but he didn’t claim the attachment went both ways.  A small marble of contentment dropped somewhere into my chest and lodged.  Love my life, did I mention that?

        Eventually I felt I was expected to reply, and asked, “Mind writing it for me?”

        He chuckled, and the feeling of his nonessential, cool breath against the back of my neck left good shivers running all over my body.  “It’s cheatin’,” he pointed out, and I smiled sleepily.

        “Didn’t think that would bother the evil undead,” I stated quietly, and he chuckled again, one hand moving up my neck to stroke the skin under my hair, sending me ever closer to dreamland.  All of the good.

        “Don’t bother me, pet, but I’ve learnt to stand for things on principle.”  I heard all of the underlying words.  The part where he was turning good…well, to the good side, anyway, despite the evil pulsing beneath the skin.  The part where he loved this life, too, with all of our wacky…family.  We’re practically a family, now, bound by ties stronger than blood.  The part where he loves me, and I love him, and this wild, beautiful life we’ve got going.  Perfect, this is, right here and right now.

        “Ya need ta stop talkin’ ta Giles,” I threaten him tiredly, only realizing after the fact that I’ve echoed his accent again.  I can feel him smile against my hair, then he leans down to press a kiss to the back of my head.

        “Ya’ll keep writin’, Xanpet, and I’ll be right ‘ere,” he promised, settling down right behind me, and I can feel myself relax, focus, just from those comforting circles he’s tracing on my back.  I lean back, and cast one more smile around to my barmy family, and they’re all smiling.  Well, except Giles, until he notices I’m looking and smiles for a moment before going back to frowning at whatever he’s scribbled on that paper.

        I reach back, and squeeze Spike’s hand.  Everything’s exactly where it should be.

         Angel wandered into the club and looked to the bartender, who shook his head.  “Darla hasn’t been in yet, Angel.  But she’s been here every night this week.  Don’t worry; she’ll show.”

         Someone strode in, all confidence and violence.  For a minute, Angel thought it might be Spike with the clothing style, but it wasn’t.  He could see the dark head of hair reaching just below the chin.  Of course, it could be William.  Dressed up like Spike.  It was a dream, after all.  But that thought was just sort of ridiculous.

         One of the bouncers strode up to the fighter, and the mysterious stranger stated quietly without turning around, “I wasn’t looking for a fight.  Just a place to drink.  But if someone starts something with me, I won’t hold back.”

         The demon bouncer backed away, shaking, and the person sat down, duster and all, on the stool next to Angel.  He kept glancing over, hoping the brunette would go away.  Sure, he was beautiful, and that scent of danger that was just intoxicating to a vampire, but he really wanted just to see Darla.

         He heard Spike at the entrance and groaned.  This was just not his night.  “Missed me, baby?” he asked playfully, and Angel sighed.

         “Nope, definitely not...” he started, but the dark-haired beauty at his side unfurled itself, turning to match looks with Spike.  It was the smouldering look vampires exchanged, promising blood, pain, fighting tying as deeply as the...activities in bed.  And this wasn’t Dru.  He’d recognize the scent.  It was familiar, sure, but not *that* familiar.

         “Hey.  No fighting in here,” Lorne stated firmly, and the brunette sent a grin his way.  A grin with fang...but no demon face, just fangs, white, dangerous, glistening but somehow...delicate.

         “Don’t worry.  It’s completely consensual.  And yes, we’re taking this outside.  Can fight just as easily outside.”

         “Ohh, but it’d be fun in here luv,” Spike pouted playfully, playing with the brunette.

         A laugh, an amused grin, and he almost remembered then.  Almost.  “I’d like to come back someday.  ‘Sides.  Saw a warehouse on m’ way here.  Looked interesting.”

         A laugh, and then Spike was off, running as if his unlife depended on it.  With a bare of the fangs resembling a smile, the other was after him, a true predator hunting its prey.

        
         Angel suddenly was watching the two of them, and neither of them were pulling their punches.  Fists flew as quickly as the footwork.  The two of them hurt each other as badly as they could, and he could smell them enjoying themselves.  He wondered how he’d gotten here, and why he didn’t remember the in between.

         “I love your idea of foreplay,” Spike gasped when a hand squeezed his knuckle, almost strong enough to break bone, before letting go and spinning away.

         “That’s the idea,” the other answered, sounding breathless, then started singing-and this one was good, instead of most of the ones that sung for Lorne.  Angel had been enough to hear the bad ones...including himself.

         “People say I’m crazy; just a little touch...” Somewhere in between, they had switched from hurting each other to dancing, somewhere between normal people dancing-and showing off, really-and the sensual kind that Angel always suspected Spike favored.

         “As if you’ve ever been an average man, sweet’eart.  But you’re right, luv, someone is watching us...”  Spike glanced up and smirked, but at least it wasn’t a leer.  And why wasn’t it?  That wasn’t...quite normal behavior for Spike.

         “Clear out.  This is OUR fantasy,” the man growled before leaning in and kissing the blonde vampire passionately.  Once pulling away, they alternated between dancing and hurting each other.

         Angel choked, realizing who Spike was flirting-well, that was one word for it, anyway-with.  Xander Harris.

         “You are KIDDING me.”

         Harris started to fall, and Spike swore.  “How long is it since you last ate, luv?  Here, take from me.”

         A brunette head was turned away, and Spike bared his fangs, demon face coming to the fore.  “Not gonna take no for an answer.  Love you.  Won’t let you die.”

         “Spike...”  a shaky, pleading voice.

         “Xan, you taught me how ta embrace every part of m’self.  I'm gonna do the same for you.”

         He pulled off his shirt and lowered Harris to the ground, laying down beside the shaking torso.  He bared his neck, and Harris leant in and fastened himself to the skin and arteries beneath, sounds of gulping filling the room, as Spike’s eyes turned back in his head for a minute before turning gold again.  That was a tender hold, but Angel could smell the excitement in the room-and, more embarrassing, some of it was coming from him.

         He was, for whatever reason, attending one of the college parties.  A bald man in glasses and a suit was standing at the door, handing out party favors.  It wasn’t until the thing was in his hand that he realized that it was a slice of American cheese.  “Most people are only given popsicles.  You are lucky.”

         Angel thought about throwing it out right there and then.  But then, he ended up talking to Cordelia instead.  She’d wrapped hers into her hair like some sort of hair pin, and it was then that the vampire with a soul decided that this was a sign he should ignore this dream.  It also made listening to her very difficult.

         “Would it kill you to just, y’know, section off a part of your mind and designate that the worry-box, so you’ve constantly got something going so you don’t go all crazy grrr again, but can go out and have a bit of fun too at some point, without worrying?  Well, except for that one part of your mind, of course.”

         “It’s like, you’re a ying-yang.  Darkness and light, in balance.  But if they’re in balance...why are you so unhappy?  I don’t think it’s working exactly the way the Taoists envisioned.  I mean, where’s the peace?” 

         “Don’t think I was ever at peace.  I mean, without the soul. I was....I was like a child.  Didn’t know things were wrong.”

Spike comes & asks for Angel.  He wants to ask for a blessing for his & Xander’s union-stronger than consort and vampire.

(...not sure what was happening in this last paragraph though I have the feeling it was meant to be a reminder “write this when you wake up here are some keywords”.  Did not write it when I woke up, and have no idea what’s even happening.)

         When Angel strode into the lobby, he was a man on a mission.  “Well, a very good morning to you too,” Cordy griped, but he went into the office and grabbed the phone without acknowledging either of them. 

Spike-chip, anything else new, Initiative destroyed, so can’t do anything.  Xander 

         “You hate him,” Giles stated on the other end, surprised.

         “I know.  I just...reallly weird dream.  Nightmare really."

         "sure he’s fine, nothing odd about his behavior lately.” 

Anya 

         “Oh, no particular reason.”

Heads back upstairs.

         “Is it me?  Or has he been acting really, really weird lately?” Cordelia griped (she gets last words.)

        The “self defense” classes.

 

        Xander’s feeling the need for some fatherly approval.  From Angel.  He gets Spike to agree to go to LA (as a ‘holiday’ or a change of pace, not telling him the real reason).  They are walking back from a violent movie (Matrix maybe) when they get jumped.  They manage to knock Spike out (therefore they know what they’re doing) and he swims out watching Xander’s shoes as he’s dragged away.  He ends up, sullen, in the police station, being grilled by Kate. 

        Angel comes in and finally convinces Spike to let him help.  “That’s enough!” Angel yells, losing his patience with the younger vampire.  He turns toward Spike, all of his strength going into not vamping out as he gets ready to yell.  “You can stop making your assumptions, Spike, and actually listen to someone else for once!  Yeah, sure, I’m not entirely happy about the relationship.  Xander’s annoying.  You’re annoying.  The thought of the two of you as partners in crime makes my head hurt and worry about the world ending.  I’m scared of how you’re going to rub off on each other and just make each other worse.”

        “Great, thanks, not changin’ my mind one bit,” Spike snarked back, and Angel actually hit the car door with something approaching full strength, ignoring the crunching sound that accompanied it.

        “I.  Wasn’t.  Finished. I’m tired!  I’m tired of everything around me falling apart and turning to dust.  I’m tired of there not being happy endings.  I’m tired of all the pain and suffering.  For once in my life, I’d like to see happiness and love survive.  I’d like to see beauty and the kind of commitment that lasts a lifetime.  No one else around me has worked out-Cordy, Doyle…me and…Her.  As much as it bothers me, it’s beautiful-perfect-what you have between the two of you.  I dislike it, but I will fight fist and fang to protect you both and this budding thing between the two of you.  You’re family, and I respect the both of you and love you even as you annoy me, and I…I just need you to know that even as I judge you and complain, I need this as much as the two of you, something stable, something I can count on not to change, something so utterly good and that makes the two of you so happy.  Okay?”

        The car is conspicuously silent.

        A guy’s collecting one specimen of each race for a collection.  He takes Angel as a replacement for a fledge.  Angel called Giles, who comes in all Ripper and kills the man.  Xander’s been put in a robe that doesn’t completely cover and gets really really embarrassed.  Spike lays on top of him, covering him, and finally loans him the duster.

        “Hi!  Um…Yeah, good ta see you again, um…Kate, wasn’t it?  Now that I’m not…naked.  That is.  Yeah, um…could you do me a favor and forget all about that?  Just…so embarrassing.”  He scuffed at the back of his neck, and Officer Lochley smiles at him.  The boy…Xander…was so adorable.  She could see how even the evil…bad guys…could fall in love with something so precious.

        “Nice to meet you for the first time,” she answered back, and the way his face lights up…Charisma, definitely.

        Angel and Kate had gone out for a drink.  At first, she hadn’t wanted to know anything about his world.  Suddenly she wanted to know everything, determined not to be left out, to master this, too, and protect herself.  Surprised, he’d agreed to take her to one of the less dangerous bars with some decidedly less than human patrons in town.

        One minute, he was laughing with her, and the next…

        Something was wrong.  He could smell it in the air.  He tried to pay attention to her as every instinct screamed at him.  He cast a look over the room, as if casually, and his eyes didn’t catch on anything.  Somewhat furious, he mentally shook his head and growled and tried again.  That time he caught a familiar face ducking into a corner, and felt confusion fill him.  He’d know that annoying face anywhere.  Xander Harris.  What was he doing here?

        “I won’t be long,” he assured her, and she hit him.

        “You’re not leaving me alone in…this place.  Wherever you’re going, I’m going with you.”  He nodded halfheartedly, mind already entirely focused on trying to find Harris.

        He caught up with him in the alley, and had to catch him to prevent him from running.  “Xander, what are you doing here?  Is…is *she* okay?  Is everything…”  He trailed off, nostrils flaring at the smell reaching him.  It was…it wasn’t normal.  It wasn’t human.  Sure, Xander the human was in the mix somewhere, smelling of pizza and chocolate and soda, but there was an overlay, stronger than anything he’d smelled before.  The slightest hint of death, of blood.  Dusty old books, and danger.  Sand.

        And then he recognized something else—someone else’s lingering scent, rubbed on like cologne.

        “Spike,” he roared, and trapped Xander against the wall.

        The boy tried to laugh it off.  “Not many other vampires would have noticed, which is pretty cool of you, and I…”

        “What happened?  What has Spike done?” he hissed, and the boy flinched, though there wasn’t altogether too much fear in his scent.  Odd, and worrying.

        “Nothing.  And unfortunately nothing.  I’ll sort it out; don’t bother yourself about it, Deadboy.”

        “And this is Kate,” Angel finished.

        To his surprise, Xander flushed a deep crimson.  “Oh, um…yeah.  I remember.”

        “We haven’t met,” Officer Lochley corrected him.

        “We have.  Just, y’know, not here.”

        Xander was looking pale, and suddenly he swayed, eyes blinking uncontrollably.  A low whine burst free from his lips.  “I think I’m going to be sick,” he managed, and then spilled to the ground, curling up in pain.

        Angel took in the lengthening canines, the pale and trembling form, the hungry, glazed eyes, the short mewlings coming from the throat, and realized what was wrong.  He knelt next to the body, holding the head carefully.  “Shh, Xander, it’s going to be okay,” he promised, feeling the body shake through his hands.

        A quick shake of the head met his statement.  “Hurts…pain, why…go ‘way.”

        “Look after him, but don’t get too close,” he warned Kate, then ran off, looking for something suitable.  He returned with a young kitten.  Sad, yes—the kitten was cute—but the demon inside said that it was, instead, scrumptious looking.  He held up the kitten in front of Xander’s quickly greening face.

        Petulantly, Xander turned his head aside.  “No, not going to do it.  Innocent.”

        Angel almost laughed.  Instead, he asked, “How long has it been since you last fed, Harris?  You look like you’ve been starving yourself.  If you don’t eat soon, you’ll go into seizure and then a coma.”

        “Fangs bad.  Not gonna,” Xander repeated.  Angel sighed.

        “There’s nothing else.  Unless you want to feed on me.”

        “Not going to bite anything,” Xander reiterated, and Angel sighed again.

        “I never thought I’d meet the vampiric equivalent of a diabetic.  I’m not going to leave you to die.”

        Before Harris could get away from him, he impaled his arm on the fangs.  Despite himself, Xander immediately began to gulp desperately at the cool skin, out of control.  Occasionally a tongue would flick out to soothe the wound, and Angel had to do his best to control himself.  The boy knew what he was doing, and to a vampire, blood was always the way to seal a connection.  No tasting the boy, or he’d almost definitely be hooked for sure.  Surprisingly enough, his self control was more than he remembered.  He crouched, almost stiffly, eyes closed, blocking the pleasure of being fed from.

        At last, Xander’s sucking tapered off, though he seemed on the verge of passing out and didn’t make a move to remove his fangs from the vampire.  Carefully, Angel did so, poking at Xander.  No matter how much he wanted, he shouldn’t sleep.  Not now.  Danger of death lay down that road.

        “Go away,” Xander was muffled, but he sounded angry and embarrassed.  All very well and good, but there was no way Angel was going to leave it at that.  He was no Angelus, after all.

        The portal had a music track.  Specifically, Celtic fighting songs.  Whatever it was, it was probably magical, judging from how tense it was making Angel.  A little unusual for a weird alternate dimension possible demonic portal, but then, it was going to Sunnydale.

        “All right.  Remember the plan.  We go in, find whatever is causing the portal and shut it down, and then get out again before any of us get trapped in some dark, hellish demonic dimension,” Giles reminded them all once more, a book in one hand and a spelled dagger in the other.  Buffy rolled her eyes.

        Xander was muttering something about the demons on the other side not knowing what hit them.  Willow glanced over and smiled.  “It’ll be fine, Buffy.  You’ll see.”

        She smiled back.  “I have no doubt.”

        As one, they stepped through.  A breeze, like stepping through a door into air conditioning, blew down on them, only it settled into the skin, a cool and somewhat refreshing feeling.  She wasn’t about to get sidetracked, though; however good this felt, it was Slayer business.

        A low, vaguely human, beautiful voice was singing along with the music, only now they could hear the lyrics-about blood, swords, and death.  Lovely welcoming party.

        She was vaguely confused upon stepping out into what appeared to be Sunnydale, the exact same location she’d left, but then the welcoming party-luckily only about their own size, she thought-fell upon them.

        A pair of matching warriors in black leather trench coats split off and attacked her and Angel.  She heard her opponent snarl and knew she was dealing with a vampire.  The other one had a sword, but luckily Angel had brought one and they were now matching blows.

        Her own opponent wasn’t too shabby himself.  She allowed herself the thrill of the fight.  Sometimes, it was good being the Slayer.

        Angel smelled something familiar about his opponent, but he wasn’t given much of a chance to actually try to piece the puzzle together.  The figure before him let out a sort of scream he’d never heard before, and attacked, steel flashing.  The warrior wasn’t quite as strong as him, and if it had been a simple match of strength he would have won easily.  But the…creature…was faster, darting in and out quicker than even vampire speed could match, and it seemed to know instinctively when to retreat and when to press the attack.  Part of its speed might have been that it seemed to anticipate his attacks.  Both had scored a few blows, and his opponent was breathing hard, now.

        He waited, biding his time, evaluating his enemy’s impressive fighting style, and darted in, pushing down hard with the haft of his blade until the crossed steel pushed close to his enemy’s face, half pale flesh and half glistening red in the street light.  The scent of blood reached his nostrils, tempting and brimming with power.  He saw dark brown eyes widen as he pressed still further, hoping his enemy would lose its balance and tumble, so he could make a clean finish.

        To his surprise, the warrior allowed itself to tumble backward, controlling its fall so it came up on its feet.  “Spike!  Angel!  Wrong people, demons!”  He sounded out of breath, and actually ignored Angel, vaulting over the sweep of a sword as he flew behind the vampire.  It took a second to realize that…that was Xander’s voice.  And his scent.

        “Bloody hell.  Blamin’ the Slayer or Peaches for this one, luv?” He’d know that English accent anywhere.  The white-haired vampire sent his Buffy tumbling, and ran to join Xander.

        “Fight now.  Figure out blame later,” came a surprisingly sensible reply from Xander, as the breathless boy ran toward the portal.

        Ignoring Buffy and Giles’ outraged shouts, Angel turned to join the two, and saw dark figures stampede out of the portal.  Looked like demons, but with a shifting body made of darkness and smoke.  As he watched, Xander stabbed one in the chest, and it dissipated with a yowl.  He watched as Xander and Spike began to coordinate their efforts, and felt oddly proud.  A vampire was one of the best appraisers of violence, and they worked as one unit, not needing one word but merely a simple movement to telegraph their intentions to the other, effortlessly protecting each other and wrecking a swath of destruction around them.  This Xander was a bit of an acrobat.  Lingering traces of clumsiness could be seen in his form, but that meant the leaps and ducks and graceful footwork was all that more impressive.  As usual, Spike was all violence, brutish and straightforward, but even that had a kind of grace and beauty about it.  He was more of the lion; you’d know he was going to kill you.  Sheer strength rendered your doom highly likely.  Xander was a panther, with padding steps and a playful manner that was no less deadly.

        He’d waded into the battle and had killed a great deal of them himself before he heard the screaming sound again, and glanced over to see Xander fall.

        The smoke demon snarled, grinning in evil pleasure, and raised a greatsword made of the same smoky darkness high above its head.  It brought it down with a terrifying smash, but luckily Xander was able to roll out of the way in time.  Angel would have run to his aid, but the creature shrieked and flew apart, tendrils disappearing into air, as Spike screamed in fury.  He angrily but tenderly tried to help Xander up.  The warrior shook his head, pulling himself up himself, and killing another creature behind his blond childe.  Interesting.  It would only make sense that the two most annoying people Angel knew would be drawn together.  He couldn’t pay any more attention, as a blow to his shoulder reminded him that he had a fight of his own.

        Willow couldn’t stop staring.  That…that was her Xander.  Except, it so obviously wasn’t.

        His hair was as wild as ever, but it had something in it, making it appear slicker than normal, and if she wasn’t mistaken, it was drying blood.  Which was just kind of…eww.  Designs in blood, reminding her of the pictures of some of the Druids and berserkers she’d found in a few of Giles’ books, trailed over his cheeks and down his neck.  They also covered his hands and went under his trench coat…thing.  And they couldn’t be just blood, because they were still fresh.  Obviously battle-paint of some kind.

        His outfit almost matched Spike’s.  The trench coat was different than the duster…a little geekier, with a little less danger and a little more swish.  There was an unfortunate tear just below the shoulder from where something had slashed its way through to the skin underneath, but the wound didn’t seem to be all that deep despite the trail of blood winding its way down the sleeve.  The collar was turned up-probably to make him look ‘cooler’, she guessed, if this Xander was anything like her own.  His boots were more swashbuckly, whereas Spike’s were Bad Boy, leather and dangerous.  The black jeans were almost identical, except for probably the size.

        Xander’s size was probably a bit bigger-not quite as lean as the muscly vampire.  The shirts were the only concession to difference; well, that and the sword.  And the necklaces.  And Xander’s watch, which looked all ivy and silver and old.  Spike was wearing something maroon.  Xander was wearing something geeky-something with a Merlin, if she guessed correctly.  And the sword…it was beautiful.  Willow liked magic, not tools, although they were useful, but this one was beautiful.  Twin snakes formed the hilt of the sword, and engravings ran the length of the blade.  The pommel had what looked like a magical emerald glinting in it, and she really wanted to touch and examine that even if it probably wasn’t a good idea.  Spike’s necklaces were plain silver; Xander only had one, with a pendant with three arrows.  She’d have to look up what that meant later.

        That only meant the smiling, laughing Xander face was all the more incongruous.  And Spike was in his vampy face, but Xander just kind of was ignoring that fact.  Yes, both Xanders were insane, she decided.  That much was obvious.

        “That was cool!  I don’t think we’ve ever fought that well, Spike!  I just…that was cool.  Wasn’t that cool, Spike?”  Babbling, enthusiastic Xander.  Geeking out about violence.  Yep.

        “It’d be even ‘cooler’ if you weren’t such a git,” the vampire hissed back, returning his hand to studying the recent wound gained during the fighting every time Xander hit it away.

        “Aw, come on, Spike, don’t be like that.  It’s just a flesh wound,” he joked, leaning back and closing his eyes as he laughed.

        In retaliation, the vampire childishly poked hard at the wound, and Xander hissed, head snapping down, tears in his eyes.  And those were…yup, fangs.  But no vampire ridges.  Um, what?  “It hurts, but it’s not that bad.  Come on, Spike!”  Annoyed Xander.  Not Angry Xander.  What was going on?

        “Sodding idiot.  Keep puttin’ yourself in harm’s way.”  Spike.  Still angry.

        And then Xander put his hands on the vampire’s shoulders and pulled him in for a kiss, long and careful.  When he pulled away, Spike slapped him, and he grinned like he’d just gotten a Babylon 5 White Star model, placing his hands in his jacket pockets.

        “Can’t keep doin’ that,” the blue-eyed Brit tried to warn her alternate dimensional friend, but there was no bite in the words.  And the grin didn’t waver.

        He turned his attention to a shocked, even scandalized Buffy.  “What were you thinking?” he scolded gently.  “They always follow you through portals.  Don’t you ever watch sci-fi movies?  Or Stargate-that was on…recently, right?”

        “Xander!  What’s going on?  What are you doing with Spike?”  Buffy started the interrogation, screeching, at the same time Willow answered, “That’s your job, Xander.”

        He beamed at Willow, and rolled his eyes at Buffy.  “Alternate dimension.  Not gonna apologize for alternate dimensional stuff.  Oh, welcome to our humble dimension, here.”

        “Are you an evil me?” a shocked Xander was finally able to ask, voice trembling, and then he was smiling at himself.

        “Nah.  I’d have an eyepatch,” he quipped, and glanced at his watch.  “This has been fun an’ all, but I have some homework that’s really not going to do itself.  Although, Wills, if you want to talk, you could always figure out that spell to make it do itself…”  He winked, just as a Willow-sounding ish voice from the other side yelled, “Don’t you dare…me!”  He laughed.  “Giles, should we take them to T.M.B. for answers to questions, some biscuits, and some homework-doing?”

        “Fine,” Giles answered, as Spike broke in, “Only if my boy agrees ta some first aid, too.”

        Will awoke next to a warm body.

        A voice inside his head told him that this was probably something he should be concerned about, but he was warm and sleepy and didn’t much care.  His eyes drifted shut, and he marveled at how peaceful and contented he felt.

        The body stirred, stretched, expanding rather like a cat and invading Will’s space but in a good way, and then a voice heavy with sleep mumbled, “Spike, I have to study.  Flattering, an’ all, but move.”

        It took Will all of two seconds to process that that was, in fact, a male’s voice, and then he did as the man had requested, was standing across the room, in fact, breathing heavily, trying to tell himself that this was but a nightmare and he would awaken sooner or later.  He was no sinner, after all.  Perhaps not the highest of society, but not a sinner either.  At least they were both clothed.  So there was a little dignity to be scavenged from this situation after all.  True, he wouldn’t dare venture out onto the street like this, but…

        The man sat up no less quickly, staring at him with eyes barely capable of staying open, rubbing at the mass of brown hair sticking every which way.  “What’s wrong?” he asked, the urgency of the question contradicted by the yawn that escaped his mouth.

        Will tried to bring his breathing to an acceptable speed and asked, trying not to sound *too* rude about the situation, “Who are you, sir?”

        The only reply was a long, unblinking stare.  At last, the man gulped, heavily, hurt plainly crossing his features, as he sighed and stood up.  “Alexander Harris.  Let’s go see a man about a vampire.”

        He could think of no response to this, so wisely stayed silent.

        They went downstairs, and then he saw an older man with glasses walking through a kitchen.  At least, he assumed it was so, though there were a few large rectangular items he couldn’t quite place.  None of them really appeared to be dressed for going out in the public.

        “Ah, Xander.”  The man was English, as well.  Something to cling to in this world that didn’t make sense.  “I was just thinking about waking you.  I’ve already made breakfast, and you did say that you wanted the time to study.”

        “Bigger problems than that, G-man,” his dark-haired companion stated solemnly, slumping onto a piece of furniture.  “Will, meet Giles.  Giles, meet Will.”

        The man looked at Alexander with a frown, and then his eyes lit with a wary understanding.  He turned to William, but whatever he saw in the blue eyes disappointed him.  “Oh.  Oh dear.  When did this happen, exactly?”

        The young man shrugged apathetically, and Will felt a shard of pain for the hurt that he was causing, although he didn’t know if there was any way he could fix it.  “I don’t know.  I just, woke up this morning and, poof.”

        “No!  It’s not a simple yes-no question!  This is multiple choice here, Giles!” The young man was furious, and although it was bad manners Will couldn’t help but eavesdrop.  He had a feeling that they were arguing about him.

        “You obviously have an exam on your mind, Xander…” Giles started to say, but he was interrupted.

        “It’s not, ‘Oh, there’s something wrong with Spike, let’s fix him’.  Will has a say in this too.  I don’t…” the man swallowed, and an ache settled in Will’s heart.  “I don’t matter in this one.  It’s not my choice.”

        “What about Spike?  Shouldn’t he get a say in this too?” the older Englishman asked mildly.  “And as his significant other, I would assume that you have some influence in the situation…”

        “Nope,” the voice was flat, devoid of hope.  “I’m not going to condemn a man to death-again-just because he happened to take the place of my boyfriend.”

        “I don’t…I have feelings for him,” Will finally admitted, turning his head away.  “Is it wrong?  He deserves to be loved by a lady.  Not something…wrong…like me.”

        Giles smiled mildly, eyes twinkling with some kind of amusement he couldn’t understand.  “Love is never a fault.  Its relations, perhaps, but pure love?”

        Will stopped, struggling with his conscience, by the couch where Alexander now lay slumbering.  Apparently he had loved this creature, this beautiful creature now willing to fight for his own existence despite the fact that it may cost him everything.  Apparently, they had given everything to each other.  Everything he had been told said that it was wrong, that relations of this sort were no more than temptations cast by evil.  But his heart, unbeating as it was, cried out that this was pure, untainted.  Could he love a man, a man with such brave smiles, who laughed and shrugged off his own hurt but would gladly put himself in agony just to help another?  A heart that did not discriminate, did not judge, no matter whether the person in question was even human.  A noble heart that hated sacrifice, that complained about it, and yet did the same without a thought.

        He pulled away the blanket and slipped inside, pulling it around his shoulders, pulling himself closer to the man and into his embrace.  He lay there, examining his heart for any sign that he was doing the wrong thing, but other than a brief twinge of guilt all he felt was peace.  Comfort.  Relief.

        The body beside him stirred, and then a sleepy and very confused voice asked, “Will?”

        “Alexander, I…I examined my soul, and found that I do, in fact, love you.  And Rupert told me that I should not be ashamed of love, no matter who it was with, and that you were one of the best people he has ever known.  Irresponsible, at times, but a truly good person.  I don’t know if I’m an acceptable substitute for the man you love, but I…I wish to try.  And…I want to live, just for a little while, to truly decide.  But I need to make my decision soon, or I will soon grow so fond of life I will not be able to extricate myself.  I do not know whether you would wish to be with me, or whether you would consider that being unfaithful…”  He rushed on, determined to see it through to the end, to let this person know of his love.

        An amused smile crossed the man’s face, and he began to look hurt.  Amusement?  Was that all he was worth?

        “Someone else is babbling for once,” Alexander explained, and paused.  “Do you…really love me, I mean?  I know you’re not exactly all comfortable about the idea…”

        “I wrote a poem,” Will stated quietly, and then blushed.  He hadn’t meant to admit to that.  Alexander chuckled, though, and pulled him in closer.

        “I, um…call me Alex, I guess, if you don’t want to call me Xander, and you can tell me the poem.  Later.  After sleep.  And we’ll have a talk about this future thing.  But I get the whole live for a little while longer in this world thing, and I think that’d be okay.  Don’t feel pressured into anything, Will.”

        Will grinned in delight and laid his head against Alex’s chest, listening to the heart beat.  He was surprised when a faint rumbling began emanating from his breast, like a cat purring, but had all too little time to think about it as it lured them both to sleep.

        Will heard a shriek and saw a dark-haired man go flying.  “Alex!” he yelled in reply, and charged into battle, sword in hand.  “You will regret that, filthy demons.”

        The man was somewhat familiar, but there was no way Will was going to stand and watch him threaten Alex.  He moved between the two men, trying to look fierce.  “I may not remember you, but I get the decided feeling I disliked you.  You charge in here, accusing my darling beau without the facts.  I will thank you to step away from Alex and stop looking so hostile.”

        Surprise entered the man’s eyes, and he stepped away, Alex chuckling behind him.  “You’re right, you didn’t like him.  I was sort of with you there on that front.  Sometimes, Angel, you’re okay, but for the most part you’re just a right pain in the arse.”

        Spike tries to get the last donut for Xander, who was having bad dreams, but Faith threatens to stake him.  He comes back put out and complains that she’s not in her right mind, and that, if it’s done right, the jelly tastes like blood.

        “You’re still here,” Xander whispers, as Spike plays soothingly with the hair at the back of his neck, and Spike pulls his head around so that they’re looking at each other.  He’s had enough of this.  His pet had been used and left far too often.  Time Xander got that he wasn’t about to do the same.  He loved the git; couldn’t get any more reassurance than that.

        “If we do it, I will stay with you.  You’ll probably fall asleep, in my arms, an’ I’ll pet your hair until the mornin’.  I’d like ta make you breakfast, but I won’t go anywhere until you wake up, and then I might carry you downstairs and set you up on the couch.  An’ then we’ll ‘ave a lazy day, watchin’ stuff on the telly and cuddlin’.”  He means it; that intense look, affectionate but so much deeper, makes Xander shiver in joy as a small smile creeps across his face slowly.  He leans further into Spike’s caress.

        “How does your demon feel about being such the romantic?” he asks, half teasing, half curious.

        Spike chuckles.  “Don’t have a choice, does it?  Either it accepts it or I beat it inta submission.  It understands strength, and one thing I’m definitely not is a weakling, yeah?”  Just repeating what Xander had told him.  He’d come to accept that now.  If nothing else, the demon understood that anyone who could get Angel to back down was good for something, so it’d accepted the whole of him.  He’d accepted himself.  Not weak, not like he’d always thought, and just ‘cause some foolish lovestruck boy believed in him.

        “Still think Dru made you wrong, and I’m happy for it.  Wouldn’t have you otherwise.”  The words are out of Xander’s mouth, Spike is sure, before he even gets the chance to think about them.  That doesn’t make him any less offended, just a bit less angry about it.

        “Not made wrong.  An’ besides, closer to compare ta what happened to you, innit?” he asks, trying not to have his fist clench as he’s doing a really good job of soothing his Xanpet, and it wouldn’t do to bugger it up now.

        “I was,” the young Nightwalker sighed contentedly, and now he knows he definitely has managed to turn off his love’s brain.  Flattering, but he’s managing to put his foot in his mouth as usual.

        “Made you perfect,” he states quietly, knowing that that is probably the only way he’s going to get a sensible answer now.

        He gets one.  Xander turns around, eyes wide with wonder, and suddenly he’s in a warm embrace-hug, a beaming man in his arms.  There’s a throat-clearing from across the room-the Watcher, Spike would bet-and Xan backs off, still grinning as if he’s been given the world.  “Ignore us,” he advises good-naturedly.  “We’re being…”

        “Disgustingly domestic,” Spike finishes, smirking, and reaches out to take his love’s hand.

        Xander’s majorly hurt on a patrol-demons drag him off and stab him right in front of Spike, just to show that they’re not afraid of him after he finally tracks them down.  Blade tip.  Part of Xander’s soul gets sucked into a PHD-Personal Home Dimension-attached to a merchant demon world, that’s being fed from his memories and dreams.  Spike is sent by Willow and Tara and talks to him.  The next time he goes, it’s turned all Babylon 5.  Xander turns Dalaen, a cloaked wise oracle type figure.  Spike fights in through security and tries to turn the place upside down looking for Xander.  Security finally gets him, and when he wakes up he and Garibaldi have a talk.  There’s an alien attack-the neighbors aren’t too friendly, or something.

        “It’s lonely, isn’t it?  Standing here, watching the stars.  But what you never realize is how much lonelier it must be up there, watching us.  They hardly ever occur in partners, and they’re stuck up there, for all eternity, watching but unable to interfere or have personal contact or connections.”

        Sheridan glanced at the weird guy he’d come to know almost as a friend, hesitated, and then asked, straightforward, “Are you going to be all right?  With him, I mean?”

        A smile flashed in his direction.  “It’s a long story, and half of it hasn’t even been written yet.  But worry not; it may be a long and dangerous road, but it is an adventure, and that is half the fun of it.”

        We get out of the test, and I glance over at Xander.  “So, how was it?  Major cookie time?”

        To my surprise, he turns toward me and laughs, with the biggest grin on his face.  “Wills, you have seduced me over to the dark side.”  I blush as Tara walks up, not sure what he’s talking about.  He breaks out with a “I actually enjoyed that!” and I laugh.

        “Xander enjoyed taking a test.  Are we up for another apocalypse so soon?” Buffy teases, and that teases a slight grin out of Tara.  “I don’t know what you’re so excited about it.  That was one of the worst experiences I’ve ever had.  Including dying,” she complains, scuffing at the snow.  I know she’s feeling a little put out-she was probably looking forward to complaining about the test with *someone*. 

        I hug her swiftly before holding hands with Tara.  “Don’t worry, Buffy.  This is all happening for a reason.  It’s like, someone decided that you needed to be extra up on your demon-slaying-ness later, so they made you go through an extra-difficult biology test.”

        Xander tries to explain.  “Buffy, when you’re fighting, do you ever get the feeling of satisfaction because there’s no doubt, no hesitation, just a gut instinct and it feels wonderful because you’re following it and you know it’s right?”  He waves absentmindedly at one of his students, but his attention is still focused on us.

        She hesitates and nods.

        “That’s what that was like.  It’s never happened to me before.  I mean, not with homework.  Geeky stuff, being a loser, fighting, but not homework.”  His voice barely scrapes over the word ‘loser’, but I know it’s a sore subject for him.

        “Th-there’s being a good p-person and then there’s b-b-being ‘successful’.  I th-think being a good person is m-more important,” Tara states shyly, and I hug her closer for that.  By this point, Xander and I have returned to the ‘major friends but no longer in that kind of love’ stage, but it still hurts to see him in that kind of pain.  He glances upward and smiles one of his genuine-but-sad smiles at us, and we smile back.

        Just then, his new phone rings-the phone that Spike bought him because it drives him crazy that he can’t see Xander all the time.  He’s one of the only people I know with the new kind that you don’t have to have on a hook.  Which is majorly cool, although I think magic is just more useful.  Spike was the one urging Xander to return to school, which is during the daytime, but he also likes to buy him whatever shiny toys he can justify.  And he’s extremely jealous, and hates having Xander out of his sight, and can be really protective, but also understanding.  Sometimes I don’t really understand their relationship, but that’s okay.  I don’t have to understand to see how happy it makes the both of them, and that’s enough for me.

        He answers it, and Buffy tells him, “If that’s Spike, tell him I’ll most likely kill him in the morning.”  At first, he looks really mad at her before getting it and bursting into guffaws.

        “No, hi, Spike.  Buffy’s quoting Princess Bride at me.”  A smile on her face confirms it.  We’re all rubbing off on each other, although in a good way, not an icky kind of way.  He waits for a moment, before beaming even more.  “Aww, that’s sweet, thanks!  No, actually, it went fabulously.  I can’t believe it, but I actually enjoyed it.  I may go into shock from it if I can ever stop jumping around like a bunny rabbit long enough.” 

        He waits another moment, then laughs again, rubbing shyly at his jaw.  “No, I’m sure I’m Xander.  This is the Xander that alternatively enjoys Research Sessions now, and sneaks in comic books every now and then.  Oh, you hadn’t noticed?  Um…”  He chuckles nervously, glancing at me, and I laugh at him.  The proof that my old Xander is in there somewhere is there; you just have to know where to look. 

        “I’m sneaky.  Very sneaky.”  He waits, then a look of mock outrage crosses his face.  “Hey!  I totally am sneaky.  I mean, you’re the Master of Sneaky…no, you do NOT get to call me that.  I’m not as good as you; that doesn’t mean…”  He trails off and listens.  “Look, I’ll let you read them if you don’t tell Giles about it.  Probably good for you, you get even more bored than I do, and a bored and mischievous Spike is often of the bad…No, I’ll concede that it sometimes has Very Good Results, but for the most part it just causes Trouble…No.  Entertaining as Trouble is, it’s not always of the good…Hey, I qualified it!  I followed the Star Wars ‘generalizations are rarely true’ rule!” 

        By this point, all of us were giggling quietly at him.  “No, actually, you might like some of them.  They’re going into a darker, more depressing stage anyway, and there’s Batman and X-men, which you admitted you actually like, depending on who’s writing…I do not!  I like Silver Age.  It’s goofy, but it’s also not simplistic black and white, and…I dunno, I just like Silver Age.  They’re calling it Iron Age I think.  The Iron Age of Comic Books.” 

        He waits, then an affectionate smile crosses his face.  “Spike, you know how I’d love to talk for, well, forever about comic books, but considering the weeks I’ve had, I think missing class now would be of the bad.  And if you argued me into going back to school, you do not get to tempt me to cut class.”  He laughs and rolls his eyes.  “And I don’t get a chance to forget that, now, do I?  Bye now.  Turning off the phone.  I might turn it back on around lunch time, and then there’s always Self Defense.  You’ll be there, right?” 

        There’s a hint of longing in the voice, but he perks right up.  Obviously it was a yes.  As if it was anything else-Spike wouldn’t let him out of his sight as soon as the sun went down for a while, I’d guess.  “Great.  Love you.”  He really can’t stop smiling now, despite the gentle teasing from Buffy, and Tara and I share a secret smile, both, probably, thinking the same thing.  We’ve had several conversations about how they make such a cute couple.

        My favorite class at college is one I don’t get any credit for.  Technically it might be more of an extracurricular activity, except I can’t put it on a transcript.  As such, it’s more of a secret society or something.  Anyway, it’s really cool.  It’s called Self Defense, but that’s more of an alias than anything, I think.  It’s just a bunch of random stuff.

        The prof is really cool.  The only reason they sort of have attendance is to make sure that no one’s dead.  May sound strange, but the more I learn about Sunnydale the more I figure out that it’s kind of a really good idea.  We’re not required to pay attention, and occasionally a few of us just sit in the way back and sleep, or do homework.  The classroom is kind of small, and it’s really hard to get to, which is why it was chosen I’d guess.

        The prof’s actually a freshman, and kind of attractive, but he’s got a boyfriend, who’s also really sexy.  I would mind, because, well, there aren’t all that many people that are really really cute here, but they’re a cute couple, and I get a nice view of kisses or whatever occasionally.  So there’s that.

        And there are what they call ‘guest lecturers’.  It’s amazing how much thought was put into this.  They really DID try to make it sound like a college class.  But it’s so much cooler than that.  It’s like the Magic School Bus, only it’s real and so much cooler than some children’s program.

        Our prof isn’t here on time again.  He hasn’t been here for a week and a half, and well, with all his talk about buddies and making sure nobody’s dead, I’m sure I’m not the only one wondering whether he’s lying dead, or, well, sacrificed, or turned into the walking undead or something.  Completely, instead of half.

        Name’s Rhiannon.  Punk artist.  Mom’s Australian.  Dad brought us to America, then dumped her.  I’ve barely escaped being caught graffiti-ing.  And I took a look at his roll sheet, just snuck a peek ‘cause I was curious.  Marked down as ‘potential Slayer’, which means that if the blonde cheerleader Guest Lecturer ever dies, I might be next on that list.  Rather not.  She’s…kinda cool, I guess, and I’d rather just keep drawing.  I mean, I could figure out a way to dust vamps artistically, but don’t really wanna, you know?  My hair’s a different color every week, and I actually kind of take after the prof’s boyf’s sense of fashion, so there’s that.  Now, being a witch, as long as I could wear some of the cooler outfits?  Could take after that.  I decided to start drawing tarot cards, and I know I kind of worry one of the Resident Witches, Tara, but the other one, Willow, is encouraging as long as I’m careful and actually asked me if she could have a set of mine.  Said sure, but haven’t really decided whether I wanna or not.

        Prof finally comes in, out of breath and grinning.  “Sorry everyone!” 

        Before he can get anything more in, Amber’s interrupting him.  “We thought you were dead!  We sent out search parties and everything.” He turns sort of pink.  “Sorry about that, everyone.  Um…Yeah, busy week.  Listen, next time…hang on, I’ll see if it’s okay,” he calls someone, the Librarian I’d guess, and it turns out I’m right. 

        “I can’t promise he’ll give you a full explanation, or at least one you’ll understand anyway, but he’ll be able at least to tell you that I’m not dead or whatever.”

        Just then, Spike saunters in, all bleached hair and confidence.  Xander barely has time to turn when his boyfriend’s suddenly up against him, trapping him against the wall.  A few turn away or make noises, but I just sit forward and watch.  It’s easy to tell when Xander’s brain short-circuits, because somewhere inside he goes ‘hey, this isn’t a good idea in public’ so he’s not grabbing at the man or anything, but at the same time his brain isn’t working enough to make him push his vamp away.  Eventually, something in his brain says ‘okay, enough now’, but somewhere along the line told him that pain would drive a vamp away.  Ha.  The lip biting only makes Blondie more determined, and if I’m not mistaken there may even be some making out shortly.  Why buy porn when you can watch something just as naughty by going to class?  Of course, there’s no nakedness, but it doesn’t take much imagination to determine what could be.  After another minute, the prof’s brain is working well enough that he pushes his vamp away.  There’s a growl, and I wouldn’t say Spike backs away willingly, but he does, eventually.

        “Home, okay?  Right now, inappropriate.”  He shakes his head to clear it, then turns to us all.  “Um, yeah, if that bothered you sorry about that.”  Unconsciously he licks his lips, which are bleeding slightly, and like the predator he is Spike watches that move with a kind of hunger.  He concentrates, and he’s back to his soft face, but the danger’s closer to the surface than usual.  He’s mad or frustrated about something.  Probably his clueless, danger-drawing goofball of a boyfriend.

        “Edward stole his hair.”

        “And ran away with it screamin’ like a little girl….” Spike was guffawing.

        “We have to warn him-now!” Xander yelled, and Spike picked up the phone and dialed.

        “Annnngeeelll.  Edward stole your haiiir.”

        “What?”  Angel stared at the phone, not sure what exactly he was hearing.

        “Edward stole your hair.”

        “I don’t have time for this.  I don’t care how drunk the both of you are.  Get off the line.”

        “What, so a customer can call?”

        “Peaches, this is serious.  He’s really irresponsible.  Who knows what he’s doing with it now?”

        “Do you have the slightest idea who Edward is?”

        “No, and I don’t care.  My hair is still on my head.  Now get off the line.”