Spike put his head in his hands, dragging his fingers through his hair. The diamonds were secure but…“It never rains but it pours!” He thought with weary resignation. Why couldn’t anything be easy, and where had those GI Joes come from? They had a nasty look of The Initiative about them. A growl built deep in his throat at the mere thought but he quashed it before it got any further. “Can’t help Xander if you’re dust, Spike!” He told himself, curtly.
Voices receded down the hall and the sounds of tidying up began in the Grand Ballroom. The vampire removed his tie and rolled up his shirt and suit sleeves. He looked about before making his way in the direction Xander had been taken.
Other guests pushed past him, eager to leave the disastrous party. Dew Rydell himself hadn’t been seen once all evening. It was left to his staff to apologise and clear up the mess.
Something puzzled the vampire. Why, if there were so many other vamps in the place, had a human suckered his Sweetheart? “Because unlife is just life without breath, it still stinks!” His inner brat taunted. He so wanted to tear the arms off the offender; it was all he could do not to punch the walls in frustration.
He stopped by a back staircase. Shit, this place was huge, but then if you had an entire jungle to build in…. He listened carefully but there were only far off muffled sounds.
He descended the stairs into a labyrinthine basement. He could see a number of storerooms, branching from the main corridor. Some were wine cellars, while others clearly contained the sort of stinky cheese Xander’s ex had so liked. Spike wrinkled his nose and continued, his feet making no noise on the dirt floor.
A scream pierced the air followed by another. He turned in it’s direction just as his name resounded against the walls. “WILLIAM!” That was Xander there was no mistaking it. Nor was there any mistaking the anguish he was in. Only at dizzying heights of emotion did he ever call the vampire by his given name. Spike fled in the direction of the cry.
He rounded a corner and came to a storeroom with its door ajar. He could smell his lover, smell his blood and taste his pain. Flexing his fists, he fought the urge to just wade on in there. The years with the chip had certainly modified his behaviour, he wasn’t the picture of patience but he thought more carefully, especially if he was up against humans.
Slipping into the room opposite, he could see well enough to count the occupants in the other. Two were human. One was placing a spanner next to an iron on a long table. The table was filled with other household implements and what looked like broken glass. The man wiped his blood stained hands with a filthy rag while the other picked up a blowtorch. Two vamps stood guard.
Sod patience! Spike drove his hand through a nearby barrel; the sound of splintering wood brought the two vamps running out of the room and right onto the outstretched plank. It pierced both of them like meat on a skewer. “Fucking stupid fledges!” He thought while their dust was still clearing.
He didn’t have time for anything else. The man with the blowtorch came rushing towards him, he ducked and the man stumbled into the remains of the barrel. He let out a roar of pain and turned. Grinning manically, he lit the torch.
“Fucking SHIT!” yelled Spike, throwing himself across the tiny room. He rolled away from the incoming flame just in time. It licked a hair’s breadth from his right ear.
Scrambling to his feet, Spike wheeled around the man making false lunges. Each time the man staggered. Smelling a plan, Spike dodged this way and that. On the fourth, the man over balanced completely, slithering in spilt brandy, the contents of the broken barrel. He flailed desperately trying to keep the torch up, but the flame touched the liquid and it ignited instantly. The smell and sight of burning flesh in brandy reminded Spike of Christmases as a fledgling and a smile escaped his lips.
He turned towards the room. The other human had disappeared. Fuck it! Now he was in a race against time before the alarm was raised. He tested the chains that held his Xander against the wall, trying not to see the injuries. The young man moaned softly and the chip twinged.
“Xander, it’s me. It’s William.”
Xander opened the only eye he could and smiled weakly through split lips.
“I’m going to try not to hurt you but we’ve got to move! I’m not hurting you.” He said it as emphatically as he could, hoping against hope that Xander would realise that the pain wasn’t deliberate. He’d never cause his lover this sort of distress. He might have, once, but that was before the curse and if he really thought about it not for a long time before that. He hadn’t even taken Anya with the intention of causing the young man pain and had come to his wedding in good grace.
He shook his head, vigorously. Now was not the time for long introspections. Above him was a small grating that opened to the outside. He wrenched it from the wall and tore open the links of the chains. Lifting Xander as carefully as he could, he raised him above his head and began to push him through the opening. It had to hurt but Xander was completely limp, his unconsciousness saving Spike from a brain fry.
Rolling Xander’s oblivious form away, the vampire pulled himself through just in time. Irate voices entered the room below him. He felt a hand grab his foot but he was out, dragging his lover towards the bushes and cover.
From his vantage point, he could see people still leaving the curtailed party. He picked his victim carefully. A hooray type that was obviously the worse for drink, staggered into his four-wheel drive. “Bad business,” he declared to his friend, “Jolly bad show.”
Spike waited until they drew level with him and jumped out of the bushes, into the path of the oncoming car. He hit the roll bars with a sickening thud, somersaulted over the bonnet and bounced off the windscreen, “Oh my GOD!” Exclaimed the driver, jumping from the vehicle. Spike rose instantly to his feet and vamped out.
“GET THE BUGGERING FUCK AWAY FROM THE CAR!” He yelled with all the force his demon could muster and still be safe from the chip. It wasn’t just his patience that’d improved; he’d learnt just how far he could go as well. It didn’t take a lot to scare these two anyhow. He picked up Xander dumped him rather unceremoniously on the back seat and took off, not a moment too soon. Dogs barked uselessly behind him and he turned off the headlights, driving apparently blind straight into the Guayana Rainforest.
He wasn’t blind however. He knew this part of South America well, he knew exactly where he was headed and his night vision was good. Admittedly, he thought as he crashed out of the undergrowth and onto the Pan American Highway, he hadn’t been here for some time but still.
Once he was far enough away from the house and the dogs, he pulled over to check on his human. He tossed the accumulated leaves, branches and bugs the size of your knees, and moved Xander’s over long hair from his eyes. That simple action caught him up short. Spike liked the young man with longer hair so Xander had grown it, just for him. The vampire gently and lovingly caressed the other’s cheek.
He shook his head with a worried frown. Xander was cold and clammy. His breathing was laboured and his pulse erratic. There was some injury from the torture causing his system problems, maybe more than one. William the Bloody, master vampire was a practised torturer. There were many places you could inflict a lot of damage that would not be found until it was too late. Xander could die. “Oh bollocks!” That was wrong think. He turned to the side of the road to wretch.
Once he had recovered enough, he could think of only one place to go. It was a long way, and he wasn’t keen to go there but the mental push from the curse made it imperative. He settled Xander as best he could, using both belts to secure him, and climbed back into the driver’s seat. With weary resignation, he turned the key in the ignition. It mattered not one iota as to the motivation; he was in love and, as so often since this adventure began, he had no choices.
Chapter 8
Spike sped through Conan Doyle country, as carefully as his haste would allow. Every now and again, he’d look up to see stars, huge and near, peeping from behind the jungle canopy. He had to make it before dawn or he was cooked in every sense of the word.
Past El Dorado, which was anything but golden, he veered west onto a hidden trail and was soon deep in the undergrowth. Trees and vines parted for him, by magic. The wheels of the vehicle splashed through small streams, which cris-crossed his path, and the sound of running water was as constant as the chatter of the night fauna.
“Thank fuck I don’t have to worry about my bladder!” He thought.
Every now and again, he’d stop to check on his still comatose passenger. He tucked a car blanket, he’d found in the foot well, around his lover. “Shit!” He felt a swelling on the left side, over the kidney. Spike visibly gulped, dived back into the car and took off crashing through the forest.
Obstacles leapt out at him at every turn. A wall of trees, foliage so thick it was black, thwarted his next attempt at speed. Cursing, he threw the car into reverse, only to have the wheels spin uselessly, carving deep ruts and throwing mud against the sides.
Another path revealed itself and he made it out of second gear only minutes before the world gave way, and he was teetering on the edge of a ravine. He leapt from the vehicle and ran behind to catch the rear bumper. Thank the fuck for vampiric strength and screw the person who had him in dinner dress. Good shoes slipped and slithered and he wished ardently for the deep grip of his DMs. Trust this to be a time when a wish wasn’t answered.
“Pull you bloody stupid demon!” He berated himself, muscles corded and straining. With agonising slowness, the car began to move back over the precipice. Spike sat in the mud exhausted from the effort, listening to the rapid thud of Xander’s heart. Xander! He dragged himself to his feet and opened the passenger door.
His lover had rolled forward and was hanging by the seat belts. Spike gently re-arranged him so that he wasn’t lying on his injured kidneys, although he could now easily be lying on bruised guts, fractured ribs or even a damaged spleen.
“And just why?” Thought Spike as he got his bearings and began on his way. What had been the point for two ‘mere baubles’? He of course had tortured people for less but he was after all a vampire, as Rydell was going to find out. That greedy wanker was going to be sorry he’d ever been born. Chip or no chip, Spike was going to make him pay and pay. There was more than one way of skinning a mine-owner, but swinging him round by his testicles was a good start!
The sky was rudely lightning by the time he arrived at what should have been the first marker. He thought he was in the right place. The jungle in front of him seemed deeper than ever, dark and impenetrable. No light entered that dense interior.
The vampire scanned left and right, looking for a low stone carving. He nearly missed it. Lichen obscured the design but it was in the right spot. Other strange rock carvings appeared at intervals now, confirming his route, a wolf, a bat, a snake, all rearing up with fangs bared.
All at once he came to an inverted cross. He drew level with it, just as the sun rose above the horizon. He placed his steaming palm in the centre; spoke three words and jungle parted to reveal an inner sanctum. He drove on through and the jungle closed once more, enveloping him completely.
He parked just inside a wide courtyard. Here the jungle was silent and the only sound was of water playing in a central pond. It was perpetual night. Away in the distance, the horizon held an eerie glow, the dawn of a new day. Spike climbed out of the car to be greeted by stars. The scene had a haunting beauty to it but he wasn’t here to admire the view.
“Papa Caius,” he screamed, “Papa Caius, I know you’re here! - Get the f…”
A young man in priest’s robes emerged from under the colonnade that surrounded the courtyard. He walked without hurry, his knotted rope belt bouncing his keys against his thigh, “If you use profanity William, I promise you will find yourself back out there chewing daylight.” It was said pleasantly enough but left Spike in no doubt he meant it.
“Now tell me,” the priest went on, looking closely at the vampire, his ancient eyes denying his youthful appearance, “How long has it been since you paid homage?”
It had been years since Spike had entered the Sanctuary. Caius never changed. His jet-black curls would never show grey and his dark brown eyes would never know lines. And yet, he was human, his pulse steady and unhurried.
“Don’t have time for religious niceties,” the vampire snarled, raising the prostrate body of his lover from the car. In the unearthly light of the Sanctuary, Xander’s warm colouring looked ashen. All heat had left him and only his laboured breathing gave Spike any indication that he was still alive.
“I believe it is he who has little time, William. You have an over-abundance of it.” Papa Caius nodded towards Xander, whose shallow breaths had become more of a chain stoke.
The priest beckoned Spike to follow him and they entered through a door, low enough for Spike to stoop. The candlelit room was strewn with papers and books. Papa Caius swept the bed clear in one swift movement and indicated for Spike to lay Xander down. Shadows flickered in a macabre dance as Papa Caius placed his hands gently on Xander’s motionless form.
Spike didn’t dare watch. He paced the room, acutely aware of every tut and sigh the priest made during his examination. Eventually Papa Caius looked up and said, “Your handiwork? I thought you knew how to treat thralls better than this.”
“Not mine!” Spike’s demon flared, “and not a thrall.”
Papa Caius regarded him with curiosity for a moment, got up and collected a few things from around the room, “Human servant? No, wait – a lover! Is this your mate? Your consort? Well I’ll be damned!”
“Already are,” Spike sneered.
The priest stopped attending to an iron shaped bruise on Xander’s flank and stared at the blond for a moment, “Your blasphemy is legendary, William. You don’t pay homage, you ruined the Feast of the Saint, destroyed the Anointed One and now you need my help.”
Spike looked at the priest coldly. He’d never cared for this part of his vampire heritage and it stuck in his craw to ask for help now.
He opened his mouth to say so but Papa Caius held up his hand, “No wait, I’ll help you, but do not compound your other crimes by insulting the High Priest of the Order.” He stood, “Go now and let me work. Have a chat with my seer. You’ll feel a lot better. Then come back and pay homage!”
Suddenly the priest looked very old, but if it were possible, his eyes looked older still. Then it was gone. He laid out the ingredients for the magic that would heal Xander. Some of them Spike recognised and wasn’t so keen on having them used. Turning to leave, he paused in the doorway, “Values his humanity above his life,” he said casually without turning round. He knew Papa Caius understood his warning.
At a loss now, Spike wandered into another courtyard. He’d forgotten how beautiful this place was. The magic of the night time spell permeated every rock and leaf. A sweeping stone staircase took Spike to the first balcony. He walked past a statue of St Vigeous with no more than a curt nod. He refused to genuflect. He ran a hand through thick vines that hung like curtains along the walls.
The stillness of the night air was broken by the sound of a woman humming a melody he knew. No! It couldn’t be…. He leant against the doorframe watching for a while before picking up the refrain, “Whatcha, all the neighbours cried, who yer gonna meet Bill, ‘ave yer bought the street, Bill?”
She turned and he strode into the room. He gathered her up in his arms, “Laughed, I thought I coulda died. I knocked ‘em down the Old Kent Road! ‘Ello Dru!”
He hugged her tight, like he was never letting her go, pouring all his desperation and fear into that simple act. This wild, dark haired lunatic was his salvation. She was his citadel in the darkness, his creator, his former lover and his consort for a century. To find her here at this time had to be an omen. He kissed her hard enough to hurt.
Without warning, she wrenched herself from his grip and spun away, her old-fashioned shirts rustling against the dry leaves on the floor. She wagged her finger at him as if he was a naughty school boy, “Uh, uh, uh,” she sang, “not yours. Bad William has sticky fingers and there’s no jam for tea.”
“Only being friendly, Dru,” He said in an off hand manner. He wasn’t about to get upset over her antics and besides she was right. She wasn’t his, never had been, and he wasn’t hers any more, if he ever had been either and it didn’t hurt. The knowledge didn’t upset him in any way. Realisation flashed across his brain, he was finally over her, and Buffy too. He loved Xander, and in a much more sincere way regardless of the curse.
He swept up a chair and straddled it, leaning his arms over the back. “So how d’you end up here then?” He asked casually.
Drusilla picked up a doll from the collection against the wall and rocked it like a baby; “Darla had a bun in the oven, Angel cake,” She came right up to him and put her finger to her lips, “Shh. It’s a secret. Came to Papa Caius for help but he’s not the father. Wouldn’t help, so she went away. Miss Edith likes it here.”
Dru speak was like riding a bike, you never forgot how. So, Darla had abandoned her. Typical, the Ice Bitch goeth, just like she had in China. The bit about the baby he dismissed as raving.
His mind began to wander back down stairs to his stricken lover. He gritted his teeth with the strain of staying put and not dashing to Xander’s side. Something to take his mind off it, “Papa Caius says you’re gonna tell my fortune, Dru,” he said as lightly as he could. She didn’t look at him but primped the dress on the doll before setting it down with the rest.
“Dru?”
“You hunt rainbows, my Spike,” she said suddenly.
“If you say so Dru,”
“Naughty, pretty things. Hide from us. We never see ‘em.”
“Well no,” he thought, “not a lot of rainbows at night!” But out loud, he said nothing.
“No gold at the end, only fire and dust.” She carried on.
He stood and frowned. He’d forgotten how much all this made his head ache. At least Xander babble had some form of cohesion to it.
She continued, almost in a trance, “Don’t build on rainbows, William. Don’t go over them go under them. That’s where you’ll find it.”
“Find what?” He flicked at a beetle that crawled across the table.
“Ooooooh,” She shook her hands in front of his face, “Wicked William, don’t worry so. Sweet William you’ll learn too. You’ll find it all under Daddy’s salt.”
“Daddy’s salt? Do try and talk sense, girl!”
“Shh! So sad Spike. I want you to be happy and you can be. You will find all the answers under Daddy’s salt.”
This time she took him by the hands and that contact undid him. He slid an arm around her tiny, lace-clad waist and held her gaze firmly. He couldn’t feel the curse, not even a tingle. He grabbed a handful of hair and pulled her head, painfully to one side to nuzzle into her neck. She gasped and sighed his name.
It was as familiar as it was wrong. She had been the black heart of his universe for so long, but they were no longer a couple. Only here, in this mystically induced twilight, were they together, and it was just as much of an illusion. He let her go as quickly as he’d taken her and stared into her deep brown eyes.
In his head, he saw another pair of brown eyes. These were opened wide in pain. He felt a stab so sharp he thought he’d been staked. He clutched at his chest, reaching out to her but she shook her head, “Not mine,” She whispered.
He felt the curse rip, tearing at his heart. He felt his dead heart leap to life and begin to beat in time with another. He cried out, “HELP ME!” Staggered and fell to his knees. “Nooooooo!” He screamed so loud that, far off into the jungle, day birds took flight. And then all was black.
The first thing Spike saw when he opened his eyes was Xander, framed by the pale mosquito net that hung over the wide bed. Spike put his hand to his chest but it was still. Whatever had happened he was still dead and his lover very much alive. He looked well and extremely happy to see the vampire wake.
“Hi, sleepy head and just when I was going to make with the kissing.” The young man stroked the vampire’s ear tenderly, “ ‘Course knowing my luck I’d end up with a frog on the lips.”
“You kiss a frog and get a prince, dipstick,” a smile belied Spike’s rebuke.
“Already got one,” said Xander.
“Oi, how many frogs have you been kissing?” He sat up slowly, stretching to get the kinks out of his back and secretly enjoying the compliment. Someone had undressed him, before putting him in the bed, “How many hours have I been out for?” He asked, surprised they’d bothered.
“About twenty seven. Any idea what happened?” Xander had worried from the moment he woke about this conversation. Originally, he’d put the strange sensations he’d felt, down to Papa Caius and his healing spells, but one kept popping back to haunt him. Again and again and again, he’d feel Spike die and it bothered him. A lot. He had his own idea about why, but he needed to be sure of Spike’s disposition before he said anything.
The vampire’s jaw dropped. He’d been down for over a day! He felt different, somehow lighter. Maybe it was just the relief that Xander was okay, but then again maybe it wasn’t. There was no perceptible change in Xander’s demeanour. He’d healed well, although there were still a few cuts and bruises, and he seemed as in love as ever. Good! That was just as it should be.
Spike reached out to his lover and pulled him down to meet him. “Love you.” He whispered, knowing it was still true the moment he said it. “Don’t have a bleeding Scooby what happened, but it’s okay. Everything’s fine now.” That wasn’t quite as true. He had an inkling of what might have happened, but he wasn’t going to upset the apple cart right this minute.
He kissed Xander, pouring all his emotion into the act, Xander kissing him back with equal fervour. “Feeling up to a little nudey prod?” He asked, when the brunet stopped to draw air.
“Mr One Track.” Xander shook his head but he was actually feeling good. While Spike had been dead to the world, “Good pun X-Man,” he thought; Xander had recharged his batteries. Papa Caius had given him potions to accompany the spells and now he was fit for anything. Well except maybe torture. That he could live without for a very long time.
Spike had a head start on the nude part, so Xander quickly removed the jeans he’d been given, and started to unbutton the plain white shirt. It was difficult while being caressed and nibbled at the same time.
“Don’t take it right off,” said Spike, sliding his hands beneath the fabric. He closed his eyes so that he could better appreciate the feel of his lover’s warm, smooth skin. He brushed his thumbs over Xander’s taut nipples.
Scooting right onto the bed, next to his lover, Xander whispered, “What about the others?”
“D’you think they’d want to join us?” Said Spike, the picture of innocence.
Xander opened his eyes wide until he realised he was being teased. “No, but - you know - with the hearing.”
“Think they’re busy making eight-legged, humpty back monsters of their own, Xander.”
“Oh. And eww.
He’s a priest!”
“He’s not a monk.”
“And it doesn’t bother you? I mean you and her go way back. Like a whole century of back and that’s a lotta back.”
They’d never discussed the events that led up to the curse; it had seemed pointless, but now Xander was in complete babble-fest mode. “It bothered Buffy, and you and her had no real back to speak of,” Pop; there went the lid on that worm can and his chances of wild monkey sex, “And if it were me, okay, when it was me…”
“No it doesn’t bother me.” Spike interrupted abruptly, raising himself up onto his elbows.
Xander looked sceptical, “Yeah, like the big fish didn’t bother Dreyfus!”
“Okay. Tell a lie, it bothers me some, but we’re separated and I’m with you now, so what the fuck?”
Xander sat up too, suddenly aware of a huge gulf opening between them. Nothing was going to happen here until they’d cleared some air. He made several attempts but his motor mouth had stalled.
Spike recognised it too and sighing, grasped the nettle, “Think I know where this is leading,” he said. “Look, won’t say I’m sorry for doing what I did with your old lady, ‘cos I’m not. Even if I could be, wouldn’t be. It don’t show a lot of respect for her, now does it? Didn’t plan it, it was just like she said, solace. I’d’ve found a darn site more public place if I’d really wanted an audience, and you know how true that is.”
Xander didn’t want to fight. Not right now. But they’d avoided this for so long it was like trying to stop a tidal wave. Besides, Spike was on a roll, “I know you thought I planted those cameras.”
“And now I know you didn’t, okay? Off the hook.”
Spike thought, “Nice try but nope, this needs airing.” All the love that had built up between them since the curse was at risk. However, if they had to start again, he at least was willing, but this had to happen first. He got off the bed, reaching for some jeans, which lay on a chair beside it. “We both got fitted up good and proper,” he said quietly, doing up the fly.
“How do you figure that? It was my bad, my wish.”
“Halfrek and I have a little history too, you know. Heard me say I hated you often enough. She was in the shop when I arrived.”
Xander glared at him, “Oh, so did we miss the first showing? What did you get a B O G O F?”
Now it was Spike’s turn to glare, “Don’t add idiocy to the list, Xander.” He snapped. “Anyanka was trying to get me to make a wish, but I didn’t. Not until you tried to dice me with an axe! Then she stopped me. Did you notice Halli stopping you? – No. And she cheated. You weren’t talking to her and you never finished the sentence.”
He paused for un-needed breath. Having circled the bed, he now stood above his lover. Xander didn’t meet his gaze but stared at the flag stone floor instead, “You tried to stop me,” he said after a long moment.
“Yes I did!”
Sitting on the edge of the bed in nothing but an open shirt, Xander felt as low as he was ever likely to get, “God Spike, sometimes…it’s like we’re just this couple, Lucy and Desi – maybe not – but something like that and I want that. I really do.”
“The Lucille Ball Show?”
“Yeah. NO! I just wish…”
Spike’s eyes opened wide, “Bloody ‘ell! XANDER!”
“Scratch that! I don’t wish, no wishing…”
Xander’s pained expression quelled the raging vampire and he placed a cool hand under the young man’s stubbled chin. Tipping Xander’s head up, he poured everything into that next look, “We…. She…just needed to be wanted, Xander luv, needed to know she was still attractive.”
“And I totally get that now, but…”
Spike laid a finger against Xander’s lips, his blue, blue eyes burning into the young man’s soul, “You said I was an evil soulless thing. Now it’s you, who has sex with that.” Even as he said it, he knew it still hurt and his features became closed, his voice cold, “You want to believe that’s all I am? Fine, now’s the time to leave. Take the stones, go back to the girl and bugger off into the sunset together.”
Something had definitely changed. The vampire was going to let him go. Panicking, Xander took him by the wrist, pushing his hand away. “I know what you are,” he said emphatically, “all of it. I’ve seen the whole show, monster and lover. I’m going nowhere, William. Been there, tried that, I’m done running. Besides, can’t leave. See, this is where I screw up, on the timing of the whole honesty speech. But please…I love you!”
He tried for the desperation of recent months. They’d pulled this stunt on each other often enough, but the last three words came out with such sincerity it made Spike’s eyes fill. The vampire linked his fingers with Xander’s, leant down and was met half way in a kiss as passionate as it was welcome. They were okay.
His lover laid him back on the bed, and a soft breeze moved the netting, raising goose bumps on Xander’s skin. He shivered but he wasn’t sure it was the cold, as he undid Spike’s fly allowing the vampire’s cock to spring free of the fabric.
Spike peeled the jeans away from his hips with deliberate slowness, dropping them on the floor and Xander immediately enveloped his dick with his mouth, rolling back the foreskin with the tip of his tongue and licking all around the salty slit. He worked his lover’s cock down his throat with practiced ease, at the same time caressing his velvety balls. But when he slipped a finger back towards Spike’s waiting hole, the vampire stopped him gently and said, “Not tonight, Josephine,” in a faux French accent. Instead, he took Xander’s hand and sucked on each finger in turn, mimicking the brunet’s actions on his straining erection.
“Want you, Alex,” he rumbled against Xander’s palm, “Want to turn you over. Want to bury myself deep inside you, close as close. Never letting you go.”
He rolled Xander over onto his stomach, the white shirt riding up to frame the young man’s tanned hips perfectly. Xander laid quite still, his eyes closed, while Spike searched for something to use as lube. He found some scented oil, in a jar on the shelf. It was probably something mystical but now it was used to anoint them both.
Having prepared his lover with affectionate care, Spike positioned himself and carefully sank in to the hilt, pushing the shirt up Xander’s arched back.
Xander let out a soft moan, feeling himself filling; too relieved it was happening at all to wonder why Spike had stopped its reverse.
Spike wrapped a strong arm around Xander’s waist, raising him to his knees, giving better access to the young man’s cock and deeper penetration into his grasping hole. He stroked Xander in counterpoint to his thrusts, revelling in the textures of cloth and skin.
Xander felt the sweet, dull ache deep in his gut become almost unbearably acute as Spike’s cock head found his prostate. The vampire removed his hand from Xander’s cock and the brunet replaced it with his own, pulling almost painfully, straining for release. His fist pumped urgently as he neared his climax.
Spike placed his open right palm on Xander’s left cheek, turning his head to kiss his mouth, “Love you,” he said, huskily, against passion swollen lips.
“ ‘Til the day I die.” Xander panted.
“ ‘Til death parts us,” Spike confirmed, “And beyond…. I will love you…forever!” And he pounded into his lover, devouring his mouth and smothering any further declarations.
At the point of climax, he sunk his fangs deep into Xander’s neck and drank through the orgasm, continuing until Xander was also spent.
Xander lay in a sweaty heap, his hair clinging in damp locks to the nape of his neck. Spike’s weight was familiar and comfortable, laid across him. Sighing, he closed his eyes, safe in the knowledge that they were still blessed.
Getting dressed after their bout was difficult, but eventually Xander wandered into the inner courtyard of The Sanctuary. A wrought iron table was placed near the fountain and Papa Caius sat sipping wine and studying some ancient papers.
He looked up and gestured for Xander to sit with him, “You are both feeling better I trust?” He asked once Xander sat down, “I must say, I thought I’d lost him too for a while.” He ran his fingers absentmindedly over a new set of puncture wounds above his collarbone.
The action confirmed to Xander, Spike’s assumption about the priest and Drusilla. “You too huh?” He said sheepishly, but didn’t reveal his own.
“Drusilla’s a good girl – in a manner of speaking,” Caius replied, “she at least, pays homage.”
Xander was surprised, “Do all the vamps have to do that? Bite you! And…other things.”
Papa Caius shook his head, “More than two thousand years ago, a young soldier in the legions of Julius Caesar made a serious error in judgement. It resulted in him being cursed. Now I am forever a forlorn priest to creatures that have no soul, and I remain human so long as they come to me and feed.” He put down his pen, “As for the rest, it is between Drusilla and me.”
Spike joined them at the table. Standing behind Xander’s chair, he leant against the young man, his right arm wound around his neck, and kissed the top of his head.
Papa Caius regarded them casually, “The old order is collapsing, William, and with it the way of life here.” He poured some more wine, “The villages in the area and the vampires have lived in symbiosis for a long time. Now the balance is being upset. The local vampires don’t come to me anymore and the people believe that the Order has deserted them. This place is dying.”
Involuntarily, Xander glanced about the courtyard. The vegetation did indeed look tired; the rich tile work, unscrubbed and the flagstones unswept. It was still beautiful, under the permanent night sky, but signs of decay were everywhere.
“The Master is gone,” continued the priest, “so are Luke and Darla. Angelus is cursed, Spike and Drusilla are parted and you, Spike,” he handed the vampire a wine glass, “have turned your back on The Order of Aurelius.”
That last remark sounded amazingly like a rebuke. Spike had never been one for ritual, and the implied criticism made him angry. He knocked the glass from Papa Caius’ outstretched hand and it shattered on the stones, spilling its contents like blood on the floor. His arm squeezed painfully on Xander’s neck and he let go, clutching his head.
“I’m a fucking survivor.” He growled once the pain of the chip subsided, “I’ve been abandoned, crippled, humiliated, abandoned again, mutilated, humiliated again, rejected and sodding well cursed! I’ve done what had to be done.”
“He’s thorough and goal orientated,” agreed Xander, reaching behind to take Spike’s hand. He didn’t want his vampire to feel bad about the latest brain fry; “I’ve always said that about him right from the first.”
“And what is your goal now?”
Spike didn’t answer and abruptly the priest changed the subject, “You honour him,” he snapped, pointing an accusing finger at Xander, “Will you honour me?”
“I CAN’T!” Spike yelled, “I told you, I’ve been bloody mutilated. Can’t kill, can’t feed and can’t honour you. I can only bite Xander when we’re on the job.”
Xander visibly cringed. ‘On the job!’ It had to be a demon thing this blabbing private things in public places.
“There are bad omens and storm clouds gathering,” said Papa Caius, “the casting bones show a great flood, wiping out the world. The seas are already rising.”
“Ever heard of global warming?” Quipped Xander.
Caius rounded on him, “Kuma Goddess of the Moon, also rules the water. It is hers to command. Now she has been dishonoured, her temple violated and two diamonds, known as…”
“The Tears of Kuma.” interjected Xander, “Yeah, that was yesterday’s news flash. We…know where they are.”
“Then you MUST return them to their rightful owner.”
“We’re taking them to Mexico.”
“No! You must return them to the Goddess. She is vengeful and must be appeased!”
Without warning, a scream echoed off every wall and Drusilla burst out of her room, wringing her hands. She ran along the balcony like a banshee and pelted down the steep steps, nearly tripping over her hem, “All wet, all wet! The moon is drowning.” She cried, rubbing at herself as if trying to get dry. Papa Caius moved to comfort her but she pushed him away, “The water is churning black hell’s pot below the salt. Save us Spike!”
“William,” said Papa Caius, “Do this for us. Or is the world so awful that you’d want it gone? Quell the Goddess, Kuma. Take the stones to her temple.”
“We can’t!” Xander jumped to his feet, “If we don’t get them back to Mexico in four days, Jaquinta dies.”
“If you don’t take them to Kuma, we will all die!”
Xander turned on his heel and strode out of the inner courtyard.
He stopped by the central pool of the outer one. “Why can’t anything be simple?” He muttered. “Collect a packet, deliver a packet, collect the cash. It’s the kind of job that makes painting by numbers look complicated!”
“Nothing in this world is simple,” said familiar English tones from behind him. “Life, unlife, it’s all the same fucking ‘ard graft. But…” Spike wrapped his arms about his lover’s waist, “It wouldn’t be worth living if it were simple.”
Wrestling free, Xander sat on the edge of the fountain, and they both gazed at the shaky reflection of the moon in the pool. “What do you want to do?” he asked.
“Me? I want to hunt and kill by the light of the moon. Want Man U to win in Europe this season. Want to back a dog that doesn’t stop to lick its arse halfway round the track and…I want you. Always been love’s whipping boy and never ashamed to admit it. If you say we go back to Mexico, we go. Sod ‘em.”
Xander badly wanted to be the white hat. In all good westerns, the white hat saved the beautiful dark eyed, farmer’s daughter, but here it wasn’t enough to be John Wayne. He was dealing with the supernatural and that needed a super hero, and the only one he knew that wasn’t just ink on a page, was Buffy. What would she do? That was a silly question; she’d ride that wave and suck that lozenge!
He looked at Spike and smiled, they still had four days. They would save the world and then save Jaquinta.
“We’re going back to Mexico,” he said, “…after we give the little goddess back her pretty shinys. Austin won’t kill Jaquinta unless he can get his hands on the silver mine, anyway. And if it was as simple as killing them, he’d have painted all the fives yellow by now.” He stood up and walked back to the others.
Spike followed him. “Silver mine? Didn’t tell me she had a silver mine? How can I be the Big Bad if you never tell me things? Do you think she’d pay us for saving her?”
Xander just laughed.
Dru and Caius were sitting on either side of the table. Dru placed her tarot cards out on a red silk scarf, laying out a nine-card spread and oblivious to the others.
As it happened, Papa Caius couldn’t tell them exactly where the temple was. He dug out maps and guides but to no avail. All he did know was to go west. “It’s the best I can do,” he said, handing them a battered tourist guide with a small map. “But my guess is that Drusilla has already told you what you need to know, William.”
Drusilla giggled manically and pawed at Xander, “Good enough to eat, yum, yum,” and she licked her fingers like she’d just had chicken.
Xander looked appealingly at Spike who said, “Do leave the poor lad alone, Dru,” but she indicated the cards with a sweep of her hand. The card in the centre of the cross was The Fool.
“Is this me?” Xander asked, “only not quite the image I was after.”
But Drusilla laughed out loud and scraped her chair back to stand. Taking him in a ballroom dance hold, she waltzed about the courtyard, her vampiric strength, making it impossible to fight her off, “You see, you will go,” she said, “And you will find it all. Beneath Daddy’s salt.”