Trickster´s Treat Sequel –
Janus´ Shadow 11
"If you wake him up, I´ll rip your bollocks off your Irish hide," a voice snapped from some distant place that didn´t quite make sense to Xander who sat on a rock at the bottom of the ocean playing with the seaweed that flowed around his naked ankles with slimy fingers.
"Watch your tongue, boy," another voice answer, and Xander was fairly sure it wasn´t the clam even though the clam´s dirty, white shell clicked open in time with the words. A flat wall of glass sped toward him and pushed back the water in an invisible wave. When he dug his fingers into the rock to keep his seat, the glass wall hit him in the nose hard enough that Xander´s eyes watered as he now looked out into the Sunnydale night.
"Not your boy, now am I?" The first voice now sounded entirely too pleased with itself, and Xander put a hand up to the glass that kept him from warning a girl with a blue backpack that a monster walked two steps behind her, his black, snaky body arching up and over her so that his mouth dripped right over her head, but she still sauntered calmly through the dark.
"William," a voice threatened.
"Oi, you´re thick as shite, aren´t ya? Not William any more."
Xander ignored both voices as the girl turned and opened her mouth so wide that it became a cavern that she snapped over the snake monster, swallowing him whole. Xander pulled his hand back from the glass where he had been pounding, trying to reach her. Even though he stopped hitting it, the glass started shattering in a beautiful cobweb pattern that made the barrier groan and shriek.
"Just go sit down and stop pacing," the clam said, its shell flashed opal rainbows when it opened.
Xander watched as air started hissing into the water creating an ever–growing cloud of steam inside his water world. He tried to step back, but he found that the universe ended just behind his heels. The cloud of air sucked up more and more water. Xander opened his mouth to explain why air and water shouldn´t act like this, but the cloud sucked the water from his own lungs.
"I´ll pace if I want. It´s our soddin´ flat, and you´re the guest here."
Xander tried to tell Spike to calm down because he sounded cranky, but the cloud pulled the water from his lungs like a scab separating from the pink skin underneath.
"And you´re disturbing Xander," Angel growled. Xander wanted to watch the clam, but the air had churned the water white, and he couldn´t see beyond his own nose. And really, something was truly wrong with this picture.
"Not like he isn´t disturbed already, is it?"
Xander struggled to pull air into his lungs as the last bits of water fell from his mouth in phlegmy strings.
"He´s just upset."
"Upset that he saved me. Upset ´nough ta sit in the dark for hours with his heart poundin´ half out his chest. Don´t tell me that doesn´t sound a little balmy."
"It sounds normal for someone with a soul. Isn´t that why you called me?" Now Angel just sounded tired, and Xander shifted restlessly, his body trying to cough even though he couldn´t find the energy to truly move.
"I called ya because I´d already had the hide stripped from my back once for not askin´ for help. But I mean what I said: You figure out how to fix that soddin´ soul or I´ll make it my bloody mission in life to get the thing out of him."
"Don´t push it, William," Angel´s voice had a dangerous calmness to it, and Xander realized he was in bed with a sore throat and aching stomach that left him feeling like ground zero of a nuclear attack.
"Won´t let it rip him apart."
"And I won´t let you hurt him. If you turn him or manipulate him, I will rip your intestines out before I slam a stake through you."
"You don´t have the knackers for it, Peaches. Ya couldn´t do it before, and ya won´t now."
"Oh Spike," a low laugh made the hairs on Xander´s arm stand up even as he cracked open his eyes. "You never did understand me."
"And that´s score one for uncomfortable de–ja–vu–age," he hoarsely whispered as he watched the two face off just like a scene from his nightmares. The only difference was the setting because this level of Spike and Angel snarling definitely need the Crawford mansion for the backdrop. "I can´t leave you two alone for a minute, can I?" Xander croaked his joke even as his sore body tried to curl up in remembered fear. The two vampires who had been standing chest to chest in the middle of the apartment took a step back away from each other before turning to him.
"Not like I want to be alone with the wanker," Spike said as he stepped to the bed. Sitting on the edge, Spike sprawled against the headboard, one foot on the ground and the other bare foot braced on the mattress so that the knee bent up in front of him.
"Spike. You okay?" Xander struggled up onto one elbow, pushing the bedcovers away as he reached out to touch his childe. He could feel a need to touch and hold after the anger of earlier. He couldn´t decide if his vampire side needed to remind Spike of the benefits of submitting to keep his childe in his place or if his human side just needed to make up for the beating. In the end, it didn´t matter. Xander let his finger slide up the smooth skin of Spike´s back and find the raised welts hidden by the black t–shirt.
"Bloody brilliant. Feel like givin´ the ponce a show?" Spike answered as his own hand ran down Xander´s shoulder. Xander shivered as the slow touch of a fingertip over his back and the expression on Spike´s face told him what he needed to know. Spike was fine.
"You didn´t call Angel as your sire," Xander said as he smiled slowly. Spike physically jerked back for a moment so that the headboard shivered with a metalic rattle.
"Bloody hell, no way I´d ever call the wanker my sire. No fuckin´ way," Spike agreed, his eyes flashing yellow.
"Yeah, that makes sense now that the brain is more with the think," Xander admitted softly as he felt his cheeks turn hot. Nice. Nothing like blushing like some girl to make a man feel all manly.
"Ya thought..." Spike stopped, and then a slender hand reached up and tugged a messy curl before trailing a finger down Xander´s cheek to the curve of his neck. "If ya think I´d let Peaches near my arse, your brain really was addled," Spike agreed.
"Xander, are you ready to talk about what happened?" Angel took a step closer, his boots silent even on the concrete floor.
"Um... no?" Xander asked.
"Ta ducks," Spike said to Angel who didn´t move. "Toddle off to L.A. like a good wanker," he sneered.
"Shut up, Spike," Angel answered as he stepped closer. "Xander you sat staring into the dark for hours without moving. You were..." Angel paused and made a helpless gesture toward the bathroom, "and you were unconscious for the better part of the morning. Spike may not understand how to help your soul, but he called me for a reason."
"Called ya ´cause I couldn´t see the slayer taking the news too well," Spike offered under his breath.
Xander looked from one to the other as his vampire side whispered the truth. Spike had called Angel for him. Spike tried to save the sire that had beaten him bloody... the sire who had stopped when Spike begged... the sire who valued him enough to keep him. Xander felt the ache in his eyes as he remembered how he´d begged his own childe to come to Nusa´s aid. He remember seeing that long face smile viciously as his childe ignored him. He remembered seeing Dracula stand by as Nusa´s sisters ripped at her. He remembered the frantic need to get to Nusa and protect her.
Instead, he´d stood in the shadows, trapped by his sire´s orders to never stand within Dracula´s sight. He remembered that pain above any beating or torture Nusa had ever inflicted in her attempts to teach him some control. And then he´d done the same to his own childe. He´d left his faithful childe alone in an apartment unable to help his sire. He´d forced Spike to call the only person he could, even though he probably hadn´t wanted to. Xander reached up and put his hand on Spike´s chest, waiting until blue eyes turned toward him.
"Thank you, childe," Xander said softly. Spike´s sneer slipped away, and Xander could see the confusion and worry. "I shouldn´t have forced you to stay in here," Xander admitted, and Spike´s expression grew even more confused now.
"Xander, you need to talk about this. Do you even know if the soldier died?" Angel leaned back against one of the corner shelves and crossed his arms.
"Um, hello! I hit him and then ran him over. I think it´s safe to say he´s dead, unless he was a demon, and wouldn´t that just be ironic." Xander turned to face Angel. Funny–he´d wanted Angel back in Sunnydale for months, but now as a soldier´s brown eyes flashed across his memory, he just wanted Angel gone. He pushed the heel of his hands into his eyes to try and block out the memory. Unfortunately, the red and yellow dots behind his eyelids just merged into an imitation of that same image.
Xander felt Spike´s hand briefly touch him and then withdraw. "I´m fine," Xander assured the nervous vampire, and he would have found it ironic that Spike was doing the freakage, but he remembered that helpless rage just too well.
"Xander, what else could you have done?" Angel asked softly.
"Um, gotten shot," Xander answered quickly. Spike growled. "Gotten Spike shot," he added.
"And if the Initiative had killed you and taken Spike, what good would have come from that?" Angel asked. Xander snorted and pulled his hands away from his eyes.
"The world would have been safe for Twinkies and those mini–chocolate donuts with the sprinkles," he offered with a grin.
"Ignoring this won´t make it go away."
Xander snorted so loudly that he had to wipe his slimy nose with the back of his arm. Scrambling over Spike, he padded barefoot across the floor, grateful to at least have jeans on. "No offense, Angel, but you aren´t exactly good advise–boy on the issue of guilt," Xander pointed out as he headed for the small corner bathroom in the opposite corner. "It´s not like you´re big with the facing you past, so I figure I can bury guilt just as well as you." Xander detoured around his couch and wondered why he´d never had the sense to add an actual door to the bathroom. He stood in the tiny triangle room, looking at the mirror and not wanting to take his jeans off with Angel still in the lair. Bad memories there. Bad kneeling on stone floors and sobbing until the dust turned to mud memories there.
"Maybe I´m not the best at facing my..." Angel paused, "problems." Xander snorted again because he could practically hear the word "demon" in that pause. Oh yeah, he wasn´t even the biggest head–case in the room. "But I know how *not* to handle this," Angel continued. "You can´t ignore your feelings."
"I really am not in the mood," Xander said as he turned on the water, splashing some on his face and then cupping his hand to slurp water into his raw throat.
"Xander, even Spike knows that your soul is hurting right now. Let me help."
Xander leaned against the sink and stared at his own image in the mirror. He talked to the pale creature whose curls stuck up around his face. "I need time to think without you sitting on top of me," Xander said. "Figuratively or literally." Scrubbing his face with his hand, he struggled to find words that would send Angel away.
"I know I need to talk about it, and I´m big with knowing that I need to talk to someone who has a soul, but I need time to sort out my own thoughts first." Xander waited for some sort of answer, but the room remained silent. He sighed. "Look, if I don´t talk to you later, you have my permission to kick my ass, but right now, I just need time."
"So, would later be a big dinner tonight?" Angel asked.
"Not up for the social thing, especially not with the blood sucking social thing."
"Since today is Thanksgiving and Giles has invited all three of us over there––" Angel stopped and shuffling feet scraped the concrete. Spike issued a quiet "Bloody, fucking hell," and Angel just made a strangled sound that was either a reaction to having to face Buffy or an attempt to not yell at Spike.
"I´m thinking that´s a three–way ´no´ to dinner," Xander said as turned and took the two steps to the archway of the bathroom where he could look into the rest of the room.
"I´ll face Buffy if you face your friends. You can´t hide this without tearing yourself to pieces." Angel stood next to the sofa, his thigh leaning into the leather and his arms still crossed. Spike had his arms crossed in a look of defiant anger as he sat on the opposite end.
"Oh yeah," Xander said sarcastically. "That´ll go over good. Buffy´s killing herself over that whole perfect holiday magazine cover fantasy, and in the middle of her Martha Stewart mashed potatoes, I´ll just announced that I´m a murderer." The last word came out a little strangled.
"Oi, that might actually be a bit of fun, then," Spike said as he suddenly sat up with a cheerful expression. Xander gave a half–hysterical bark of laughter that sounded way too much like the long–exorcised hyena.
"Fun. Right." Xander looked at Angel who definitely looked ready to smack Spike. "But if I have to go to the gallows for dinner, I am claiming my right for some serious private freakage, so Angel, don´t let the door hit you on the ass on the way out."
"You can´t––"
"Not listening," Xander said as he stuck his fingers in his ears and started humming. From the expression on Angel´s face, Xander suspected that the vamp said something offensive, but then he just shook his head. Angel turned and left while Xander continued to hum loud enough to make the sound echo in his head. As the heavy door swung shut, Xander took his fingers out of his ears.
"Bloody brilliant, mate," Spike offered, and Xander smiled. Spike opened his mouth as though he was going to say more, but he didn´t. Instead he sprawled across the couch, one arm resting on the back and other other on his thigh.
"I´m fine Spike," Xander said as he headed for the refrigerator. Pulling open the door, he stood in the cold river and looked at the plastic–wrapped yellow cheese in perfect squares and half–eaten macaroni in Tupperware and two hotdogs mummified in the packaging that had once had 12 identical sticks of meat. For some reason, he found himself surprised to see everything just the same.
"Xander?" Spike´s voice pulled him out of his refrigerator–induced trance.
"You know that pull you feel toward your sire? Where you feel like their life is your life?" Xander felt the pain of Nusa´s death, and the cold air around him suddenly smelled of dust and cave mold. He remembered holding Nusa´s ashes and feeling like he had died with her.
"Yeah," Spike answered slowly and softly as though he didn´t want to say the words.
"It´s like that. When one human kills another, it´s like sliding a stake into your sire."
"Bloody––" Spike stopped in the middle of his own curse.
"Or maybe it´s like killing other childer of your house," Xander amended himself. As much as some Sunday–school version of himself wanted to feel worse about the soldier, he could still feel Nusa´s death more sharply. He glanced over his shoulder to see Spike´s reaction. Spike cocked his head in confusion now.
"Wouldn´t have minded takin´ a stake to Penn m´self," Spike said without hesitation.
"Um, killing a childer of the house that you like?" Xander added. Spike continued to stare at him. "Okay, there´s no way for me to explain except that it feels like staking your sire only not so bad, and now I´m feeling bad about not feeling bad."
"Soul makes ya soddin´ nuts," was Spike´s proclamation. "That Ethan, if he can get out a chip, he can soddin´ well get out a soul. No soul, and you won´t feel that. Better yet, let me turn ya. I´ll make it feel good," Spike´s strong arms wrapped around Xander´s waist, and part of Xander wanted to be weak. He leaned against the open refrigerator, the squish insulation under his palms, and part of him wanted to tilt his head and let go of the guilt. Spike´s weight against his back promised to hold him up if he just gave Spike permission to take over.
"Why don´t you try and force me to?" he asked instead.
"Oi, not looking to get another headache on top of the striped back," Spike answered with a snort of laughter.
"You´re stronger. I´m tired. Why don´t you try?" Xander pressed. The fingers that had intertwined at his stomach now separated, and he felt Spike step back.
"Just feels like it would go all pear–shaped if I did." Spike´s voice had a slow, cautious tone as though he were walking a tightrope over sunshine.
Xander closed the refrigerator and turned to look at Spike who had a confused expression on his face again.
"And because I have a soul, I feel like giving it up would be wrong. Major wrongage. The big jackpot of wrong. I know you want to fix this, but I just need to feel bad because I did something I shouldn´t have done."
"For me," Spike said, and where a human might have looked guilty or pained, Xander watched as Spike slowly smiled, his hips tilting to the right salaciously and the tip of his tongue appearing at the corner of his mouth. Yeah, that wasn´t guilt. Not on the same planet with guilt. Not even... Xander ran out of metaphors.
"I would do it again if I had to; that´s what Angel was trying to get me to see. The only other choices were more wrong than the wrong I did."
"Yeah? So the great dobber isn´t upset that ya offed the soldier boy?"
"Oh, he´s probably going to add an extra year of brooding over how he somehow caused the whole mess from L.A., or how he shouldn´t have let me take you in or how he shouldn´t have let Dru turn you or something. Hell, I think he still feels guilty for the whole crusades thing."
"Yeah, that´s Peaches." Spike smiled viciously. "Those gypsies knew how to make a curse."
"But he knows it was a better choice than us getting killed or captured or me running down some poor schmuck standing by his car." Xander stopped again as he leaned back against the refrigerator. "But it still wasn´t a good decision. I should have known you would react like that. I shouldn´t have taken you with me. Or maybe I shouldn´t have invoked Janus in that spell because he can be big with the unpredictableness. I definitely think he made things much with the worseness. That wasn´t bad luck; that was like life–ending horrible, terrible, very bad, not good luck."
"Oi, ya sound mad as a bottle of chips," Spike pointed out, and Xander laughed.
"Yeah, but I go sounding all weird and then no one listens to what I say, and then they don´t notice that I´m kinda not always well centered." Xander stopped the minute the words had escaped, and even though he hadn´t ever said it to himself, he realized it was the truth. He played funny–sidekick boy, and no one looked for him to be anything else. Okay, after the whole book of spells Giles gave him, he might not be fooling everyone, but he had the whole thing down well enough for Buffy and Willow.
"That why the slayer hasn´t picked up on the fact that ya have about as much vamp in ya as Peaches?" Spike asked, and he stepped forward again, letting one hand rest on Xander´s hip as he pressed in. Xander leaned back against the cold refrigerator and allowed Spike to press into him. "That why she doesn´t see ya?"
"Um, yeah. I mean, she never really did see me like I wanted, not when I when I was crushing on her or trying to out–hero Angel, and now that I don´t want her to see me, it´s really not hard to still be the high–school loser around her.
"I see ya well enough pet, and I may not understand the soul, but I know you´re a right bastard to cross and ya have enough mojo to curl Peaches´ precious hair. Still wish you´d let me take the soul out, but even with the soul, you´re vampire enough." Spike started rubbing a thumb into the tender skin above Xander´s hip, and Xander groaned and let his head fall back against the refrigerator.
"I´m really not in the mood," Xander protested as his cock swelled.
"Figured I´d take your mind off it. ´sides, you seem in the mood to me," Spike suggested as he leaned his weight into Xander´s crotch.
"Hey, I can´t be held accountable for what my body thinks; I´m a teenager," Xander made a weak complaint. However, his hands reached up under Spike´s shirt. He could feel the swollen skin in a pattern of intersecting lines, and he pushed a thumbnail into the edge of one. Spike growled and lowered his head to Xander´s neck, scraping dull teeth over the skin until Xander made a pretty fair imitation of a growl himself.
"Bed," Xander hissed as he pushed against Spike. His legs still felt wooden, and with his hellcat´s ability to make him weak in the knees, he didn´t trust himself to finish this without falling on his face. Spike let himself be pushed back, but he never lifted his head from the earlobe he now assaulted with his teeth and tongue. With not–so–gentle pushes, Xander maneuvered them both to the bed.
