*****

Part 8

Xander was floating and that was fine with him. Here, in his head, there was no cold, no snow and no flames. He gave a mental shudder.  In this murky darkness there was no wrenching pain of separation, which Xander/Alexander had learned was worse, in many ways, than the pain of death. 

Slowly, familiar feelings returned. He felt the hard floor of the crypt and smelled the damp, musty air. Ah, and there was the smell of cigarette smoke. He opened his eyes. Spike was leaning against the sarcophagus smoking, his face haggard and his eyes glassy with shock. Xander didn’t want to break the silence, didn’t want to move and draw attention to himself, but his body rebelled. He fell onto his side and dragged himself a few feet into the shadows on numb hands before vomiting. He lay there shaking for a moment before gathering the strength to get to a crouch. When he spoke his voice was barley audible. “Can I leave now? Have you finished your spell?”

Spike looked at him with empty eyes, and with a mutter to himself, blew out the candles that anchored the pentagram in the magical realm. “Go.”

Xander didn’t wait. With blurry vision, a roiling stomach and a tearing pain in his heart, he wandered off through the cemetery.

It didn’t take long; he didn’t even have feeling back in his stiff legs, when he realized that he someone was following him. He called out, “Spike, you bastard, leave me the fuck alone.” He was struck dumb when Anya stepped into the waning moonlight.

“Ahn…I haven’t seen you in weeks. What the hell are you doing out here?” He made a cautious move towards her before he noticed the rage contorting her face.

“It’s always the same, isn’t it? Ye never learn, boy.” Her lips were barely moving and the voice, ohgodno, the voice was intimately familiar. Thomas. “Look at her,” the voice commanded as Anya went rigid and her eyes closed as if in pain. “She still loves ye, just as she always did. I could feel her pain callin’ to me, askin’ me in, askin’ me to avenge her for the suffering that ye have caused her.”

Xander was backing away, stumbling in the frozen grass when he tried to reply. “Anya? Are you there? C’mon, sweetheart, wakeup. You’re Anya, remember?”

Anya jerked, opened her eyes and laughed, “Not Anya, Anne. Anne, Anne, Anne, Anne.” She danced awkwardly toward Xander, reminding him for a strange moment of Drusilla, and pulled a large knife from the waistband of her jeans.

“No, Anya!” Xander made a grab for the knife and missed Anya’s other hand coming at him. A vicious right hook connected with his face, sending him spinning off balance, blood seeping from his split lip.  Taking advantage of his surprise, Anya swept his feet out from under him with a kick from a booted foot and threw herself at his unprotected chest with the knife.

The first cut burned but it was shallow. When Xander grabbed Anya’s slender wrist and tried to push her away, he discovered that the new, crazy Anya came with a strength upgrade. She was impossible to dislodge. He had just about given up when he heard the distinctive sound of ribs cracking and Anya flew off of him, screaming in pain. He lay still for a moment listening to Anya retreat, cackling and muttering to herself as she went, before turning his attention to his rescuer. 

Spike stood silhouetted against the first rays of the pre-dawn sky. His expression was carefully blank. Xander struggled to his feet, swaying with dizziness, and started to walk home, pointedly ignoring the blond. He did nothing, did not even acknowledge the other’s presence even when he was sure that Spike was following him.

~*~*~

They made it back to the apartment minutes before sunrise and still neither of them said a word. The silence was deafening.

Xander headed toward the bathroom to clean up, determined to continue the game when Spike appeared as an immobile barrier in front of the door. “You can’t hide, Xander. I won’t let you.”

Xander snapped. He threw a careless punch at Spike, who ducked and easily dodged it. “You won’t let me? You ugly sonofabitch. How dare you?” Xander was yelling and blood was splattering Spike’s face from his split lip. 

Spike stood still for a moment, blinking at the pure rage in Xander’s tone before grabbing the bigger man’s shoulders and slamming him against the wall behind them. “Shut up, Xander. Just shut the fuck up.” Xander was shocked into stillness for a moment, fear trickling down his spine. It hadn’t been too long ago, centuries, hours, since he had felt the full, brutal force of this man’s anger and knowing that the chip was gone made it all so much more real.

He whispered, “You don’t know how I feel right now. I can’t face it, not with you.” When Spike reached out a hand to Xander’s face, he recoiled, knocking his head against the wall. “Don’t touch me. Don’t ever touch me again.”

Spike narrowed his eyes and Xander could see the vampire was keeping his emotions on a tight leash. “You’re wrong, y’know. I do know how you feel.” Spike thought for a moment. “I know what it is like to love and to be hurt…” He licked his lips. “And to love to be hurt.”

Xander gasped at the unbelievable implication of Spike’s words, but the vampire was still talking, “What happened between us…well, I can’t ever be sorry enough for that. But believe me when I say that I have been punished.” He moved closer to Xander, trapping him between leather-clad arms braced on either side of his head. “You cannot imagine what living with Angelus was like. What loving him was like. What that meant. What it entailed. I have suffered for what I did to you. I have suffered for loving you through loving him.”

Xander was frozen in Spike’s gaze as if enchanted. The violence always present in the vampire was simmering just beneath the surface. The possibilities of that violence terrified Xander, not for what Spike could do to him, but for how he, Xander, would respond.

He knew, had always known, that succumbing to Spike’s darkness would mean utter loss of control, utter loss of responsibility for his actions, and utter freedom to give in to both pain and pleasure.

It would mean release. 

His tired legs could no longer support him, and as tears crept slowly down his face, he slid to his knees in surrender. Spike nodded, almost to himself. “You understand then.”

~*~*~

Spike carried the exhausted man into the bathroom and set him gently on the toilet seat. Xander drifted in a painful, confused haze as Spike ripped his bloody t-shirt off and carefully disinfected the knife wound in his chest. He came fully awake, startled, when Spike cleansed his lip, and hovering inches from his face, placed a chaste but tingling kiss on his swollen mouth. 

Xander let Spike lead him into the bedroom and was passive while Spike undressed him. Xander was jolted uncomfortably back into the present when he felt the other man slide into bed next to him. For a moment he tried to ignore the feathery touches on his back but it was impossible, his body betrayed him, shivering with arousal.

“Relax, Xander. Just get used to my hands on you, luv, O.K.? You can’t even see me back here.” Spike’s voice was low and intense.

“What is this, Spike?” Xander mumbled. 

“We have until tomorrow night to break the curse. That’s not much time…we have to finish what we started.” Spike’s touch grew more insistent, demanding a response from Xander’s exhausted body.

“What if I don’t want to, Spike? I’m not gay in this life…whatever I was in the past. I don’t love you; in fact I believe I hate you. Oh, and I’m totally freaked out by the fact that you raped me.” Xander wasn’t even going to voice the more complex issues that had been raised earlier.

Spike’s hands tightened on Xander’s shoulders and he moved until his firm body was molded to Xander’s, his erection pressed against Xander‘s ass. “You’ll die if we don’t work it out, if we don‘t finish it. Thomas is already here and he has your demon ex in his thrall.” He dropped a kiss on Xander’s shining, dark head. “Xander, listen very closely to me because neither of us wants to talk about this again. We are bound together regardless of our gender, so whether or not you’re gay is beside the point.” He rested his forehead on Xander’s shoulder before continuing.  “As for you hating me? Well, mate, there’s a very fine line between love and hate. Sometimes it’s hard to figure out which one is behind the passion that you feel.” He slid one hand down Xander’s side to his waist and then to his hip and let it rest there, ignoring Xander’s sudden intake of breath.  “And I won’t lie to you. Even though so much time has passed, our souls, the essence of who we are, remains basically the same. I have always been, and always will be, a violent man, and you will always love me because of that. But here, in this time, things do not have to turn out the way that they did in Scotland. That’s why we are reborn. We learn from the past. I can control myself now, I will never hurt you like that again.” 

Not your typical seduction, Xander thought hysterically. I love him because he’s violent? Xander wanted to scoff, wanted to run, wanted to fight. Instead he let out a groan, smothered by his own arm against his mouth and gave an involuntary shudder that drove him hard against Spike. Against all of his better judgment, Xander had begun to believe. It was the churning in his gut. It was the melting in his muscles. It was the sweaty palms and the shivers that he got while Spike was touching him. It was the heavy hard-on between his legs. But most of all it was the almost nauseating mix of arousal and terror that Spike awakened in him. It was a familiar, remembered feeling. It was natural to him, like Spike’s touch was natural and desired. It made him feel alive.

He tilted his head back and closed his eyes, letting Spike claim his mouth in a forceful kiss. The vampire’s cool hand slid from his hip to his cock and gently began to stroke him. Xander moaned into the vampire’s mouth, intoxicated by the unfamiliar taste and texture. He rolled to face Spike, hesitantly running his hands over the smooth, pale skin.

“Ohgodxander.” Spike’s voice was full of tension.

Xander stopped. “Wait. I don’t know what to do…No, I don‘t know if I can do this.” 

Spike growled at him, his eyes gleaming in the watery light that filtered in through the shades. “Look at me.” Xander looked. Spike held his gaze with his own as he traced Xander’s full lips with the tip of his finger. Xander did not feel any better. His mind was in turmoil and he was terrified of the fact that he had no control over his body’s fierce response to Spike’s touch. The other man gave him no time to come to grips with the situation. He slid his finger into Xander’s mouth and squeezed his cock at the same time, eliciting a frantic, gurgling cry from Xander.

“That’s it,” Spike crooned as Xander sucked on first one, then two of his fingers. “Just like that, luv.” He nudged Xander’s legs apart and replaced his fingers with his tongue, distracting Xander while he gently prodded the tight ring of muscle between the other man’s legs with a slick digit.

Xander went completely rigid. Ohnononodon’ttouchmethere. “Shhh. S’alright.” Spike murmured as his kissed his way lightly across Xander’s chest, tonguing his nipples.

Xander was in a place he had never been before. A place of terrifying contradictions. He had never been so painfully aroused but it was a razor’s edge between fear, shame and pleasure.

He felt no relief, only intense emotions and overwhelming physical sensations when Spike finally moved from his chest to his stomach and from there to his cock. He didn’t want to look but he couldn’t turn his eyes away from the sight of the tousled blond head between his legs. He could feel his balls, heavy in Spike’s hand and he could feel Spike’s throat convulsing around him as the vampire swallowed his cock.

Xander thrust several times into Spike’s willing mouth before he exploded. “Spike…coming…ohfuck.” He almost lost consciousness but for the fearful, unwanted voice in his head chanting, nowwhatnowwhatnowwhat. What does he want now?

It was obvious. Spike was taking advantage of his pliant state to lay him on his stomach, all the while stroking him and whispering to him as if he were a frightened animal. “No worries, luv. S’ok. Not gonna hurt you. Love you.”

It was hearing that those last terrible, appalling, wonderful words coming out of Spike’s mouth that forced him to lie still in horrified anticipation.

Spike left the bed for a moment and Xander felt a sudden, sickening rush of adrenaline. Is this it? Are we gonna do it?

Spike returned seconds later and crouched between Xander’s legs, “Kneel, pet.” Xander shivered at Spike’s suddenly tender tone, and slowly got to his hands and knees. “Gonna fuck you, Xander.” The vampire hesitated with his hand on the small of Xander’s back and whispered, “You can tell me no.” 

Xander thought, Sure, I can say it--but would it matter?

As if reading his mind Spike wrapped his arms around Xander’s waist and said, “I won’t if you don’t want me to.”

They both waited for a moment, the words gonna fuck you flitting through Xander’s head making his limp cock twitch in response. He was in way too deep to play any more games. Images of the vampire taking him, fucking him, hurting him, controlling him, owning him, loving and caring for him were all entangled in his mind. The ideas, the acts, were inextricable. And that was, undeniably, what he wanted. To be fucked, to be loved, to be taken care of. To have all of his choices made and to find the release and relief in the pleasure and in the pain.

“Don’t ask me. Just fuck me.” He reached behind him for Spike’s cock and grabbed it. “I want this. I want you.”

That was all the vampire needed. He had brought hand lotion from the bathroom back with him and he didn’t even bother to warm it in his hands as he rubbed it across his fingers and found Xander’s hole. Xander jerked away when felt the first gentle touch and Spike had to hold his hips still with his other hand when he began to push his index finger inside. There was burning and stretching and it felt right. It felt nearly unbearable when Spike crooked his finger and found Xander’s prostate. 

Xander howled into the pillow under his head as Spike added a second finger. Then the vampire paused as if he wanted to say something but Xander’s words hung heavy in the air between them. “Don’t ask.”

When Xander felt the pressure increase he knew what it was. He knew what was about to happen and, with an effort of will, he kept the bile from choking him. Flashes of the pain from Alexander’s last hours invaded his consciousness and he battled with separating the past from the present and accepting the necessary hurt from Spike’s invasion of his body.

And that’s what it was. It was both an invasion and a completion. Spike was taking him, conquering his body, tearing him apart both physically and mentally, and then making him whole. 

Spike wasn’t gentle. Xander hadn’t expected gentleness, but neither was he brutal. His thrusts were deep, strong and slow, designed to make Xander fully aware of what was being done to him and by whom, without damaging him. His moans were interspersed with cleansing sobs and when Spike’s fangs pierced his neck and the vampire cupped his hand around Xander’s cock, again fully hard, he came with breathless abandon, shoving himself back onto Spike, taking the other man as deep as he could. 

When Xander came, giving himself completely to Spike, blood, body and soul, the vampire was lost. He came with his lover’s blood on his lips and his come on his hand.

There was a loosening, then. As the two of them collapsed onto the bed it felt as if old ropes, long knotted, were finally beginning to come loose from around them.
 

St. Lucifer hear me praying to thee
On this eve-of All Saints
High be the price but then nothing is free
My soul-I’ll glady trade
 
 

*****
 

Part 9
 

For Xander, waking was a long, disorienting process of cataloging various hurts, from the burn in his neck to the persistent ache between his legs. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to escape from the comforting weight of Spike’s arm around his waist. He knew that once he moved, once he left the bed, there would be consequences. He had just spent the night fucking, loving, a 150 year-old vampire. There would be inescapable consequences. 

He shifted slightly in the bed, not wanting to wake his exhausted lover, sinking deeper into his thoughts. This can’t work. He shut his eyes. He had convinced himself of that fact sometime before he had fallen asleep and his sentiment hadn’t changed. Spike was, undeniably, capable of love; deep, passionate, destructive love. Of this, Xander had no doubt. There was evidence. Spike had loved Drusilla; he had loved Buffy and probably still did, and, from what had been revealed the night before, he had loved Angelus, as well. Xander, on the other hand, had never experienced that kind of passion. The ‘I would die for you,’ Titanic, kind of passion. He didn’t think that he could survive the force of Spike’s love, of his emotion. But, more importantly, Xander was afraid he couldn’t survive his own need for Spike.

There was more. Xander supposed that by now he should be used to unconventional relationships, but what he really wanted, deep inside, was the happy, wholesome American family, white picket fence and all. He rubbed his eyes tiredly. That was an unattainable dream. Family? Never.

His thoughts drifted unbidden to the one place and time where he had felt most content: Scotland. For that one night, watching the stars by the sea with Robbie and William, he had felt like he truly belonged to something bigger than himself. He had been deeply and completely in love with William; and Robbie, beautiful Robbie, a boy with Xander’s own laughing dark eyes, had been playing there beside them. 

That was what Xander wanted and what he knew couldn’t be recaptured. Spike may have regained his soul but he had not regained his humanity. He was immortal and Xander was, undeniably, a fragile, mortal creature. He could never live with Spike. And, sadly, he couldn’t have a family with him. He had enough common sense to know that. Buffy and Angel had realized the problems inherent in their relationship, beyond the happiness clause, and Xander knew that he was going to have to face the same issues with Spike. The beautiful vampire would remain untouched by age, as Xander grew older and older over the years. Love eternal or not, there was little that could withstand that kind of strain, and Xander would never subject a child to it. 

He sighed deeply, looking at Spike’s face, relaxed in sleep. His heart hurt. If they broke the curse and he stayed, he would lose himself to the passion, the pleasure and the freedom the Spike offered. He would lose everything that was the old Xander and face an uncertain future with an assuredly unhappy ending.

The phone rang and jerked Xander out of his introspection. It was Willow. She was concerned about him. This couldn’t be any more awkward, he thought as he stumbled and stuttered through the conversation. He promised her, in the end, that he was fine and that she, Buffy and Dawn should definitely come over for an early evening movie.

Xander hung up, and without noticing that Spike’s blue eyes were open and watching him, he padded slowly, naked, to the shower.

~*~*~

It was late afternoon and Xander was sitting on the couch with a faraway look in his eyes. Spike, returning from the kitchen with week-old pizza and beer, was halted in his tracks by the immediate sense of Xander’s withdrawal from him. Xander had been uncharacteristically silent since he had emerged from the shower.

“Xan? Harris?” he queried softly, dropping the pizza and the beer onto the coffee table and sitting down next to the young man.

Xander didn’t respond; he merely flinched slightly at Spike’s proximity. He had nothing to say to Spike. There was nothing he could say that would make sense, or that would make anything better. Can’t work. I know it can't. I love him, I think. But how can that be? What can I say?

Suddenly, Xander felt a stinging slap. He was rudely yanked out of his reverie, and turned wounded eyes to the vampire sitting pensively beside him. “Why did you do that? I was just thinking,” he muttered, holding a hand to his burning cheek, hoping Spike didn’t sense the sudden leap in his pulse.

Spike looked serious as he contemplated Xander. “I won’t have you drifting away from me. Not now. Not yet.”

Xander wasn’t mollified. “So, is this how it’s going to be between us? I stop paying attention to you for a minute and’ya slap me around?” His eyes were wide and glassy, and both cheeks now had spots of rosy color.

Spike grunted and leaned back into the couch cushions. “Not unless that’s what you want. I just don’t want you dwelling on things, thinkin’ too hard about what’s gone on. Obsessing. You’ll go batty.” He softened his tone. “Don’t pull away from me, luv.” He didn’t wait for Xander to respond. “D’you wanna watch this movie or not? The girls are gonna be here any minute.”

Shit. Xander had invited the girls over to watch movies. Willow had been so worried about him after their talk the day before. Was it only yesterday? Xander had no feeling for how much time had passed since he had talked to Willow, died (no, that wasn’t me), and been brought to life again in the arms of a vampire. 

The movie had not been one of his better ideas, but then, he was not known for his bright ideas. He was also not one to keep secrets. He needed help and he had always turned to his friends before. The Scooby gang had been through some terrible things in their time together and he figured that they, as a group, could handle this. He wouldn’t have to face anything, including Spike and his feelings, alone. If I love him then it gives us the power to break the curse. Then I can go . . .

Spike was still studying him with a worried look on his face. Xander couldn‘t bring himself to reassure the vampire that he wasn‘t losing it. There was a knot of tension permanently lodged in his stomach. He had given into some terribly base urges that morning, allowing himself to experience a terrifying loss of control. It had gone way beyond his one time with Faith, and his constant submission to Anya. This had been real. Losing yourself real. Becoming the vampire’s bitch, real. 

But, Spike wasn’t so demanding now, in fact he seemed to be at a loss. Xander made a brief, half-hearted effort to comfort the blond. “Sorry I snapped at you, Spike. I do wanna watch the movie.” He grabbed a piece of pizza and stuffed it in his mouth to forestall any further attempts at conversation. He did notice, though, that Spike didn’t apologize for slapping him.

The girls arrived just in time, and Spike put on the movie. It was Buffy’s choice, Lord of the Rings. It was long but mesmerizing, and despite the number of times Xander had seen it, he found himself falling back into Tolkien’s magical world. 

By the middle of the movie, Buffy was asleep on the recliner and Willow, sitting cross-legged on the floor, was enraptured. Dawn was on the computer, using the dark, Xander assumed, to hide any nefarious activities she might be up to online. He turned from Dawn, hunched over the keyboard, to Spike, whose chiseled features were accentuated by the flickering blue light of the television. When Xander glanced at the screen he saw an otherworldly Orlando Bloom peering thoughtfully over some great expanse of New Zealand terrain and had a sudden realization. He reached out a tentative hand to Spike’s porcelain cheek.

Spike held perfectly still. This was the first time that Xander had touched him without some sort of coercion and his hesitant fingers burned the vampire’s flesh.

Xander whispered wonderingly, “You look a little bit like him, so unearthly . . .so beautiful . . .” His fingers trailed across Spike’s lips and paused there. How can I think of him this way? 

There was a sharp intake of breath from the floor in front of the couch. Willow was looking up at the two of them in disbelief. “What’s going on?” she hissed, alerting Dawn’s gossip-sensitive teenage ears.

The younger girl turned away from the computer. “What, Willow, what is it?”

Spike reached up and took Xander’s hand in his own, lacing their fingers together before shushing the two girls. Xander didn’t pull away, feeling a little tingly at Spike‘s proprietary gesture.

Spike was silent though, leaving the explanations to Xander. “Ur. . .well. Willow?” She nodded encouragingly. “Do you remember what we talked about yesterday? About me and Spike?” he asked.

She nodded. “Uh hmm. You told me that you thought that you and Spike had lived before, a long time ago, and that somehow you had been cursed. You thought it was pretty serious.” 

Xander nodded and started to reply when he was interrupted.

“Cursed by who?” Buffy didn’t sound at all like she had been sleeping. She sounded terribly alert. “What exactly is going on, Will? Xander?”

Willow turned to her friend and shrugged. “Xander came to me yesterday and told me that he had a problem. He wasn’t very specific, he just said that he and Spike had known each other before, like past lives stuff, and that there was a curse involved. He wanted to know if I could break it, the curse I mean, but I told him that my magic was wacky and I didn’t know enough about the nature of the curse. Anything that I tried might’ve only made it worse, y’know?” She looked worried; concerned that she hadn’t tried hard enough to help her friend.

Buffy turned to the two on the couch, still holding hands. “So, Xander, why don’t you fill me in on what you didn’t tell Willow? I have a feeling that this has something to do with how strange Spike has been acting, doesn’t it?”

Xander sighed. Here goes nothin’. “Okay, Spike and I did know each other in another life, and I guess we were kindofinvolved.”

Dawn coughed and Buffy glanced over at her sister before asking, “Involved how? Like, involved how I think you mean?”

“Yeah.” Xander nodded. 

Buffy sat back and narrowed her eyes. “Huh. Go on.” 

“Right. Well. There was hurting and betraying and then there was cursing.” He caught his breath. “We just had to have some closure before we could break the curse.” Spike’s hand tightened on his and Xander could hear the vampire whisper, “Closure?” He pretended not to notice, studiously avoiding eye contact with Spike.

Willow touched his leg to get his attention. “Who cursed who?”

“I cursed ‘im. He dies every Halloween.” Spike spoke out loud for the first time, staring at the Slayer defiantly.

“Why?” Dawn asked, eyes wide.

Xander squeezed Spike’s hand harder than necessary before answering, “That’s personal, Dawn.” He turned to Buffy. "Do you have a problem with this? Are you gonna help or not?”

“Whoa. Take it easy, Xander. I still don’t understand. You and Spike were together in the past and now you’re together again? Like, together together?”

Both Xander and Spike nodded, and when Xander turned to look at Spike the light from the TV illuminated the side of his neck.

Willow gasped, “Oh God. He’s bitten you!”

Buffy was on her feet and next to Xander before he could move, pulling his shirt collar down and staring intently at the angry mark.

Spike pushed her gently away as Xander murmured, “It’s not like Angel never bit you.”

She didn’t say anything for a minute, just stood and stared at the two of them. When she did speak her voice was low and even. “This is something I never expected.” She shook her head. “I can’t be angry, though. I’ve accepted that Willow’s gay, so I can’t have a problem there, can I?” She tapped her lip with a pink fingernail before continuing, musing to herself. “Lord knows that I have a thing for the undead.” It felt like everyone was holding their breath, waiting for her to finish. She shrugged and slipped her hands into her pockets. "I guess what’s most important, though, is that I thought that there was enough hope for Spike that I helped him get the chip out.” There was a palpable sense of relief in the room. “So, the only question is . . .are you okay with this, Xander?” She gave him a sidelong glance.

“I don’t know,” was Xander’s strained reply. 

Buffy just nodded. It was a sentiment that she could understand. “We’ll help you Xander, with whatever you need.”
 

*****
 

TBC
 
 

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