*****

Part 4.

Spike dragged a reluctant and shivering Xander though the cemetery. "Spike, once more, why are we out here? I still don’t feel like myself." Spike had woken the young man out of an uneasy sleep, filled, once again, with misty dreams of green hills and gray skies, in order to accompany the vampire out into the night.

Spike didn’t even look back at the lagging boy. "Not surprising. That you don’t feel like you, that is. But there’s someone that you have to meet." Then he did turn around and his expression was one of apprehension. "I can’t deal with this alone. Besides, it really is your responsibility."

Xander jogged a little to catch up. "What’s that supposed to mean? You’re the one messing around with dead people and having visions and stuff. I think it’s all about you, here."

Spike just shook his head and kept up his pace until they reached his old crypt. "Here we are then," he muttered, not looking any happier than Xander felt. "We shouldn’t waste any time." And he led them both in.

There was a pentagram chalked onto the floor and Spike knelt just outside of it murmuring to himself as he lit the black candles at its points.

"Uh, Spike? This is so not something that I want to do right now." Xander’s voice quavered a bit. It wasn’t as if Willow hadn’t cornered him into participating in his share of wacky black candle and circle spells, but he had never been comfortable with it. There was something inside of him that was deeply distrustful of magic, and especially of his own involvement with it.

"Gotta be done, Harris. You have to talk to him, don’t you? Tried to handle it by myself, but he insists." The last was an absentminded statement as Spike completed his murmurs and candle lighting, which really only served to make the shadows in the crypt deeper and colder.

"Who?" Xander was relatively sure that they were alone in the crypt, and that made everything just so much worse when he started putting all the pieces together.

"He asked me not to tell you." Spike stood up and dusted off his hands, looking lost for a moment before returning to Xander’s side and gently pushing him toward the pentagram. "There now. Have a seat."

Xander took a deep breath. "No."

Spike didn’t even look at him. "Hmmm? No? Well, I don’t think so, mate." The vampire slid bonelessly to his knees at one of the points of the star and closed his eyes. "You, Xander my boy, are going to die on Halloween. Didn’t I mention that before? I thought I did. Anyway, I should think that you’d want to avoid that, if at all possible, and the only way I can see you doing that is if you play along for a bit. What do you think?" 

Xander stood befuddled for a moment. He wasn’t used to Spike wanting to help him. It set off every alarm he had in his head. However, he had always been very interested in staying alive. Living on the Hellmouth, one developed a very keen awareness of one’s own mortality, and Xander was no exception. Living with death (and the undead) every day had turned his perceptions of life a bit askew from those of your average twenty-something young man. He accepted death, he recognized it, but he was not at all eager to confront it without an escape scenario. He turned his attention back to Spike. "I don’t know, Spike. This is all a little much. I haven’t been feeling well; I’ve been having strange dreams and I have no idea what you’re up to. Maybe you should explain."

Spike didn’t look at up but Xander could feel his irritation. "Explain. OK." The blond rose up on his knees, shuffled backward, and settled back against the wall of the crypt. "I had a vision in which I saw you, Xander Harris, dead. There were two other men there, and both of them seemed to know me. The weirdest part was, well, that somehow it was all connected to me. That was all I got." He stopped for a minute and Xander thought he might not continue, but he was only lighting a cigarette from one of the candles. "It was weeks ago, when I was still a little buggy and livin‘ in the school basement. But, since then, as you can see, I‘m better now. I thought things were under control except that every time I saw you I got the funniest feeling that I was missing something, and there were the dreams. They were all misty and cold-like, and there was always something or someone there, just at the edge of my vision, that I couldn’t see, y’know? Tryin’ to get my attention." The vampire
 stubbed out the cigarette. "And that’s it. I know a ghost when I feel one, and I know when they’re trying to get attention."

"Hence the summoning?" Xander wondered aloud. "That’s what all that chanting and stuff has been about?"

"Quite. Now, are you done with the Q&A, mate?" Spike’s answer was curt, and he looked like he was definitely hiding something. But, Xander wondered, when had Spike ever been completely honest with him?

Xander thought for a minute. He had too many questions that he knew Spike was in no mood to answer, so he gave up. "Sure, Spike, we’re done."

"Good. Now, I just want you to try and relax. I’ll do all the work here, right?"

Xander nodded. "Oh. Yeah, all right."

Spike moved back into his place at the point of the star and began his incantation, sprinkling bits of crushed aloe, pepper, vervain, saffron and tobacco leaves throughout the center of star as he chanted:

Darksome night and shining moon

Harken to my witch’s rune

East then South, West then North. 

Hear! Come! I Call thee forth.

With each word the crypt grew damper, colder, more oppressive. The hair rose on the back of Xander’s neck and he knew that he and Spike were no longer alone. A misty figure had begun to form next to Spike and it took all of Xander’s willpower not to run gibbering and screaming from the crypt. 

When Spike finished his chant and his companion had gained clarity and solidity Xander was, to say the very least, surprised. It was a man, and he was dressed in what looked like leather and a very large, silver fur coat. His hair was dark; long, it fell in a tangle of braids and mats about his face. Well, holy shit, Xander thought while looking more closely at the spirit’s face. His skin was dark and worn, as though from years spent in harsh weather, and there was a nasty scar that wound from his right cheekbone into his hairline, where it had silvered the dark locks. But, for all that, the strong chin, the brown eyes and the quirky smile were all devastatingly familiar. Xander could have been looking into a magic mirror.

"Oh for chrissake, Spike, who the hell is this?" Xander was vaguely pleased that his voice didn’t crack.

Spike just shrugged and looked warily at the spirit. "You tell ‘im. I don’t want nothin’ else to do with any of it."

The spirit gave the vampire a nasty glare before returning his hungry gaze to Xander. " ’Tis simple, Alexander, the bit about who I am." He paused and cocked a brow, "I’m your son." 

Xander squeaked.

*****

Part 5.

Xander closed his eyes and took several deep breaths. Can I say ‘wiggins’? No. This defies words. Even for me. Gotta be the weirdest thing ever and that’s saying something for living your whole life on the Hellmouth. Weirder than being a hyena. Weirder than the whole mummy girl and mantis thing. Wierder than being a soldier. Weirdest. Period.

“H-how can you be that?” he stuttered. “You’re older than me!”

Spike gave an unnecessary and long-suffering sigh. “Are you blind? Look at him. Figure it out, stupid git.”

Xander just shook his head. “No. I can’t have a son that’s older than me and who looks like he just stepped out of a Conan flick.”

The vampire drew a leg up and rested his chin on his knee. “What d’you know about reincarnation?”

Seeing that Spike was serious Xander thought for a moment, not dismissing the question out of hand. “Nothing I guess, why?”

“ ‘Cause it’s the crux of the whole bloody issue, that’s why!” Spike turned to the spirit who had the temerity to look vaguely amused. “This is your show. Take it from here.”

“Nay, William, ye keep trying to avoid this. As if it weren’t about the two of you. This is not about meself and me da however touching that might be.”

Spike glared and the spirit continued, “Fair enough. Alexander. M‘athair. This canna be easy to take all at once like this, but you must. There isna much time.” The spirit ran a ghostly hand though his hair and Xander was fascinated to see the ragged strands lift and move as if still alive. “Ye can call me Robert, Robbie, if ye like,“ he said, looking at Xander with what might have been hope in his eyes. Xander just nodded and the spirit, Robert, gave a small shrug. “I’m sure that William has told you about your death? Aye?” Xander nodded again. “Good. Then it shouldn’t be too hard to prevent it this time.”

“This time?” Xander could feel his blood pressure rising again.

“Oh aye. Happens every time. Without fail. The curse was a damned good one, William, ye should be pleased.” 

Now Spike looked shocked. “What the bleedin’ hell does that mean?”

Robert shook his head. “In a minute. I have to know something first. William, do you still wish Alexander to die by fire on Samhain?”

Spike made a strangled sound before replying, “God. No.”

“That’s a start.” The spirit nodded. “Now listen to me, both of ye, because I don’ want to wait around, floating about with nothing to do, for another generation until I get another chance at ye. Got it?”

Xander and Spike nodded. “Of course, me lads, it makes a great tale. All about love and murder and curses.” They just looked at him with wide eyes. “Ach. Come closer to me.” And without any protest they shuffled towards him, one on each side, until Xander swore he could smell the animal scent of the furs that his ’son’ wore. “Now, the best way to do this is to just take you back. Are ye ready?” He didn’t wait for their response before raising his hands above them and plunging the world into grey.

~*~*~
 
 

And now he was falling. Falling into a world of snow and smoke. Xander could sense Spike and Robert next to him, but he couldn’t see them. Then he heard Robert’s distinctive voice in his head, Feels like home, doesn’t it? Don’t worry. Yer just along for the ride. To see what ye can see. To feel what ye should feel. Look there-d’ye see? That’s yerself on that hill, looking up at the stars. Aye, and William and I are there with you.

He could see. He saw a man, wrapped in what looked like a large plaid blanket, standing on a craggy hill overlooking a black sea. It was Xander himself, with shoulder length hair, matted and tangled from the cold wind. Another man stood beside him, also looking at the sky; with his long blond hair shimmering in a starlit fall down his plaid-clad back. There was also, as Robert had pointed out, a young boy, no more than nine or ten, scampering between the two older men, chasing moon beams that reflected on patches of snow.

A feeling of deep contentment stole over Xander as he observed this domestic scene, a feeling of warmth and love for family.

~*~*~

Scotland, 1662

William suddenly ceased his contemplation of the sky and whirled to catch the boy who had run past him. Picking up the child, he swung to face Alexander. The clean, sharp edges of his face were shadowed by the night, but Alexander could see the smile on his companion’s face as William drew him into a one-armed embrace while holding the laughing child in the other. As Alexander slipped easily into William’s arms he tilted his head down for a brief but passionate kiss.

The air was chill around them but William generated an unnatural amount of heat and Alexander basked in it and in the feel of William’s firm body pressed against him. He buried his face in William’s soft, blond locks, inhaling the scent of heather that always clung to the man. William let Robbie slide from his arms and return to his games just in time as Alexander, in a rare moment of exuberance, tumbled the smaller man to the ground. They wrestled for several minutes, ending with William pinning Alexander by straddling his wriggling hips and capturing his flailing wrists above his head in an iron grasp. 

Alexander laughed. He truly laughed, gasping for breath. His heart felt light and free for a brief moment. He didn’t object when William began to nibble on his neck; he melted into the fluttery sensation that William’s lips and teeth always brought him. He continued to lie passively when William released his wrists and began to push his plaid away from his chest, leaving only his soft linen shirt as a barrier to the blond’s seeking tongue. He only roused himself long enough to call out to his son, “Robbie, lad, can ye find yer way home?” 

A far off giggle accompanied Robbie’s yell of, “On my way, da.”

Satisfied that his son knew the highlands as well as any grown man, Alexander returned his attention to William. “I suppose this means that we’re done with yer bloody astrology for the night, aye? You’ve gained all the wisdom from the heavens that you need this night?” William didn’t bother to answer. He was occupied with gently thumbing Alexander’s nipples through the shirt and mouthing his neck just above the collarbone. Alexander moaned and shivered a little. William, pleased at the response, shifted his hips to align his hardened member with that of his lover’s and slowly began to thrust. Even through the barrier of yards of plaid Alexander could feel William’s heat. He burned. He burned with life and with magic and with love. Out here, among the rocks, with pounding of the sea and only the glittering stars to witness, it was all right to burn. Here, he was free to lust and to love. To love William and his magic.

Alexander threaded his fingers through heavy locks of blond hair as William slithered down his body; nimble fingers already at work on the belt that held his heavy plaid in place, pushing the woollen fabric aside as it loosened. He could no longer keep silent when he felt William touch him, tease him through the cloth.

“Please, Will.”

“Please what, mo luaidh?” William asked as he continued to play his fingers lightly over Alexander’s straining member and down over his balls.

“Your mouth, love, take me . . .oh, aye. That’s it, Will. Oh, God in heaven . . .” Alexander’s breath hitched as William had ceased his teasing and took a firm hold of Alexander’s cock, pulling it deep into his mouth and swirling his tongue around the sensitive head, causing Alexander to mutter and tighten his already tangled grip on William’s hair. The blond slowly relaxed his throat while letting Alexander thrust into his mouth, enjoying his lover’s participation. The other man was rarely an active lover; this was a rare occasion.

It didn’t take long, as Alexander felt himself slide into William’s throat, for the tingling to build at the base of his spine and his balls to tighten. He let out a sharp cry and, holding William’s head steady, came with a shuddering gasp into the other man’s mouth. He felt immediate remorse and shame, as always. However, it was difficult to maintain the guilt when William crawled slowly back up his body and looked into his face with glassy blue eyes and a mouth red and swollen from Alexander’s use.

William sensed Alexander’s sudden withdrawal from him and was briefly angered at the predictability of it. He had played passive, happy to take advantage of his lover’s mood, but he was painfully aroused and he was not a man to go unsatisfied. He grasped Alexander’s cold hand and brought it to his still covered erection. Alexander was hesitant.

“I don’t know, Will, it’s getting cold an’ Robbie’s home alone. Aye?”

William shrugged and gave a languid wave of his ringed hand. The air shimmered around them and they were encased with balmy warmth. “If I’m not enough to keep ye warm then this should do until we’re done. And Robbie’s a braw lad. We’ve left him alone for days at a time before, love.”

Alexander knew he was defeated as he looked at William with his sleepy blue eyes and his tousled hair. His own arousal was creeping back. He gave William’s cock a gentle squeeze, secretly loving the solid feel of it in his hand. “I’ll take care of ye Will, I’m sorry. But then we really must get back to Robbie. We may have left him before, but these are unsettled times. It‘s not safe for us any more.”

William nodded and Alexander let himself be pulled down for a kiss. William tasted of ale and Alexander’s come. It was intoxicating. William’s tongue traced intricate patterns inside the other man’s mouth, sucking on his lips, while Alexander simply slid a questing hand underneath the other man’s plaid, not bothering with trying to unbelt it. Soon he was stroking his lover firmly, running his thumb over the head and using his other hand to caress William’s heavy balls, eliciting moans and hisses from the blond. But it was when he broke away from the kiss and latched onto William’s neck, biting delicately into the skin above the jugular, that William growled, arching tautly against him, and he could feel hot come spurt against his hand.

They lay in the grass for a time, needing to recover, running their hands over each other with William, always more comfortable in this situation, murmuring comforting words and endearments.

Alexander was the first to rise, kissing William briefly on the lips, and rearranging his clothes. “Come on then, Will.” He offered his hand to the blond, still lying sprawled on the ground.

William took his hand, and with a shake looked as if he hadn’t spent half the night rolling about in the frozen turf. He had no grass stains; no come stains and his clothes seemed dry. Alexander shook his head. “It’s things like that.”

“Things like what, love?” William asked, starting to walk down the hill, inhaling the sea air.

“The trick with y’er clothes. That’s what starts rumors about witches.” Alexander hurried to catch up. It seemed he was always a step behind the other man.

William threw a warm and dry arm around the larger man and when he spoke his tone was joking, although his eyes were serious. “But, my heart, I’m not a witch. I’m a warlock.”

*****

Part 6.

Some people live in a world defined by right and wrong and black and white. Xander was one such person. He lived in a world defined by opposites, by good and evil. He was a white knight in that particular age-old battle between darkness and light and he was comfortable with that. There was no room in Xander’s world for ambiguity. He had never been comfortable with people crossing lines or with gray areas. Although he had gotten better, it was a problem that had always plagued him. Buffy, a slayer of evil things, should not have been involved with Angel, an inherently evil thing. In his devotion to that conviction, he had helped send Angel to hell. He had been even less accepting of the idea that Spike could ever be a force for the good. However, he had liked and perhaps even loved Anya as a former vengeance demon and he was perfectly comfortable with Willow’s life choices. He was a sensitive guy in that area, but that was as far into the gray as the black and white, right and wrong, Xander went. To consider the possibility that he and Spike, Spike the vampire, the Big Bad, the apparent warlock, were some sort of star-crossed lovers living out some kind of twisted destiny after four hundred years was entirely out of the realm of things that he could even comprehend, let alone begin to acknowledge.

The hard floor of the crypt and stiffness in his limbs was enough to let Xander know that he had come back to himself. He opened his eyes and met Spike’s worried look, glanced quickly away, and had to fight to suppress a rush of emotion. Not William, Xander thought to himself, but it did little good. The blue eyes were the same. The gaunt, hungry face was the same. The feeling that he had somehow disappointed the other man was, very much, the same.

Xander lurched upright to stand on numb feet. He stood for just a moment, looking down at Spike, before turning and running. He didn’t hear Spike call after him, “Dammit, Xander, no! You can’t break the circle!”

He was already gone, and only Spike and Robbie were left to see the silvery mist that swirled in the air for a second before drifting after him.

~*~*~

When Xander reached his apartment he was exhausted and shaking. There was nothing that he wanted more than to fall into bed and sleep for days. But he didn’t have days. Halloween was rapidly approaching and if he was going to live through it there were some nasty facts that he was going to have to face. Nevertheless, the minute that his head hit the pillow, he slept.

He did not dream, but when he awoke he had the feeling, stronger than ever, that there was a certain malevolence surrounding the apartment. He rubbed his arms beneath his blankets as if trying to brush away the oily feeling in the air.

“You feel it too, do you, mate?”

“Jesus, Spike! What are you doing?” Spike was sitting comfortably on the edge of the bed with a mug of blood in his hands.

He shrugged. “Just wanted to see how you were this morning. You left in a right hurry last night. Which, by the way, was not such a brilliant idea.”

Xander rolled onto his back. “Why not? I couldn’t stick around. I didn’t have anything to say.”

Spike rolled his eyes. “Whether or not you had anything to say, I still had to close the circle that I’d opened to summon our friend. You broke that circle by leaving. I closed it all right after you left . . .” He trailed off looking pensive.

“So?”

“So, I think something got out before I finished.” Spike turned his attention back to his mug.

“Oh, you’re kidding. Like, what?” Xander’s voice was getting louder.

“ ‘Nother spirit I’d guess,” Spike said around the lip of his mug. “But that’s not the worst of it.”

“Of course not. Tell me, Fangless, hit me with it.”

“It went right after you.” Spike finally looked directly at him.

“Fuck.”

“Not right now, pet, we have work to do.” Spike gave a little smile and got up off the bed, smacking Xander’s thigh as he did. 

Xander grabbed Spike’s hand. “How can you even joke about that?”

Spike looked puzzled. “Are you worried about that, Xander? ‘Cause I would think that you would be very concerned about dying about now, and that you might waste time worrying about your sexuality later.”

“Goddamn you, Spike. I’m perfectly comfortable with my heterosexuality. I just thought that-- well . . . that maybe we wouldn’t have to talk about all of this. Y‘know, just work on reversing that curse.”

Spike got wide-eyed. “And how, mate,” he leaned in close, near enough to kiss, “would you propose we do that? When this,” and he touched Xander’s cheek, “is what the curse is all about?”

Xander was mesmerized by the vampire’s proximity and the sultry tone of his voice. Oh, no. “I-I, Spike! Hey, personal space,” he managed to yelp out.

Spike backed off but the intense look on his face didn’t fade. “We were lovers a long time ago, boy, and for some reason it made me curse you to an agonizing death. You’re going to have to face that, if you want to live.” He walked out of the room.

Xander thought angrily to himself, There might have been something between us in the past. It doesn’t mean there ever will be again.

~*~*~

Avoiding the vampire wasn't easy, but Xander accomplished it for a good part of the day. He took a long shower, then snuck out to the Summers house to find Willow. He was going to take the plunge and ask her about the curse.

The witch sat with him on the living room couch and listened with astonishment as Xander told her an edited version of the story.

“My god, Xander. You mean to say that you and Spike knew each other sometime in the past and that Spike put some sort of curse on you that makes you die every Halloween?”

Xander nodded, relieved to get it off his chest; most of it anyway. “Yeah, that’s it in a nutshell.”

Willow sat thinking for a long minute before getting up and grabbing a large text. After flipping through the pages for a while she asked, “You don’t know exactly what the curse was or why Spike used it?”

“Uh, no.” Probably wouldn’t tell you if I did.

She nodded and flipped more pages before looking up at him with a very serious expression. “Xander, you know that I would do anything to help you, right?” Without waiting for him to respond she continued, “But I don’t think I can help you. I’m not very comfortable in my own magic right now, and I think that the curse on you is extraordinarily strong. Also, I doubt I could do anything, anyway, without knowing more about the curse itself.” She sighed. “You and Spike are going to have to work this out. You’re simply going to have to fulfil the conditions of the curse so it can be lifted; as soon as you find out what they are, that is.”

Willow left the room to a disheartened Xander. He had truly hoped to avoid having anything to do with Spike or their mutual past, now it seemed unavoidable.

“She’s right, you know.” For the second time that day the vampire had snuck up on him. 

“Lurk much?” he snapped, getting up off of the couch.

“Expert at it. Perfected the art,” Spike smirked, blocking Xander’s way to the door. “But, I meant what I said about Red being right. We have to let Robbie take us back again. We have to see what happened if we’re going to save you.”

Xander shuffled his feet and stuffed his hands into his pockets. “You know, don’t you, that there is nothing in the world that I would rather do less?”

Spike was thoughtful, “Oh, I don’t think that you want to burn to death.” He moved suddenly to grip Xander’s shoulders and planted a soft kiss on the brunette’s surprised mouth. “And I don’t think that you wanted me to do that.” Spike waited but Xander gave no response beyond a blank stare. “See? There are worse things.”

Xander’s only thought was, It wasn’t that bad. The kiss. Kissing Spike.

*****
 

NOTE ON GAELIC WORDS: m’athair-father, mo luaidh-my beloved, darling.

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