Waiting Here

By Alexandria

Part Thirteen

Buffy just stared at the policeman in shock. No, she shook her head firmly. No, this was impossible. This could not be happening. There was no way the words he was saying could be true. Her hands balled into fists as she moved to stand immediately in front of the man blocking her way into the hospital room. No. This could not be.

"I already told you, miss, you can't go in there. This is an ongoing investigation."

"Get. Out. Of. My. Way." She glared up at him, violence pouring off her in waves. This, this, this idiot was standing in her way, was in between her and whatever it was that had almost killed Xander. She reached up, ready to simply throw the stupid cop over her shoulder when she felt Giles' hand grab her arm.

"Sir, sir," Giles managed to call out as he yanked the startled Slayer away. "We are friends of the, the victim," his voice caught a little at that. "And we want to know what happened." He turned his best authoritative glare on the man, the one that sometimes even managed to get Spike to listen. Buffy began to squirm in his arms.

"Let go, Giles, why did you," she hissed out.

"Because there are witnesses and other police and you don't want that attention," came the quiet answer in her ear. Buffy's eyes widened slightly then she nodded. Fuck. She hated it when Giles was right.

The policeman turned his attention to Giles, clearly glad to speak to an adult. "As I was telling the girl," Buffy bristled at that, "the investigation is ongoing. There is no way you can go in there." The harsh voice softened a little. The group staring back at him obviously were friends of that boy they had brought in. "Look, the bastard who did this got shot for his trouble, he's not going anywhere for a long time." Not for a very long time if what he had picked up on the radio was true. He looked down at the pretty blonde staring back at him, fire in her eyes. It looked like she was ready to tear whatever hurt her friend from limb to limb, and, if that sick prick chained to the bed in there had really stabbed and raped his own kid, well, he was tempted to let her. Couldn't though. "Why don't you just go back, stay with your friend. I'm sure that he would appreciate the support when he comes to."

Buffy just glared back. No. She wanted to see for herself what beast had done this, what sick thing had dared come after Xander in his own home. Frustrated, she turned back to Giles.

"No. I'm going in there." She began to move forward again, and this time it was Willow who stopped her.

"Buffy, I want to go in there too, but, he's right, we can't." Willow's voice shook. Her best friend, her family was lying in a hospital bed, lucky to be alive. And the thing that did it was right behind her and she couldn't destroy it. Not yet. "Xander needs us. We'll go back, maybe that nice lady cop will come by later."

Buffy hurled once last hateful look at the officer, who flinched back as if slapped.

"Fine, be the voice of reason why don't you."

She stalked back towards Xander's room, shaking with impotent fury. A sudden thought flashed through her mind. **This must be what Spike feels, can't do anything, can't protect him** Her stomach twisted at the thought. She knew how protective Spike was, remembered clearly the way he had done anything to help Dru, even teaming with her, his mortal enemy. Some part of her recognised that what Spike felt for Xander was far stronger than what Spike had felt for Dru. And now Spike was reduced to sitting and waiting, unable to bring back the monster's heart as a fitting present for his love. The rage inside her burned higher. Fine. She could wait. Give them more time to plan. Give Spike a chance to show her exactly how to use those railroad spikes that earned him his name.

The gang turned back with her, moving smoothly together as they always did. Giles moved to Buffy's side, anxious to speak with her.

"Buffy, what exactly did you mean earlier?" He looked over, curious. He agreed completely, whatever had caused Xander such pain must die. But to hear it come from his charge. . . The greatest crime a Slayer could commit was to kill a human. And it sounded like Buffy intended to do exactly that.

"I mean that since Spike can't avenge Xander, I will do it for him." The words were flat, nearly emotionless. Nearly. The coldness of the tone served to only hide the fire behind the thought.

"Buffy," he reached to take off his glasses, the gesture not calming him like it should. "You can't kill a human either."

Buffy came to an abrupt halt, causing Willow and Tara to nearly run into her, while Anya managed to stop just before crashing straight into Giles. She looked up, unnameable emotions playing across her face.

"Who said anything about killing?" She knew killing was out. No one had mentioned anything about not torturing humans, however.

Anya smiled proudly at Buffy. She had always known the Slayer had it in her. "That's true, Giles. I know that Slayers can't kill humans but in all my time I never heard anyone say they couldn't hurt them. I mean, I've seen Buffy accidentally hurt humans sometimes and nothing happened. So, obviously, she could just hurt him a little. A lot. I know this great thing," she turned to the witches excitedly. She was just as angry as the rest of them. Just because she had left Xander didn't mean she didn't still care for him. "Where can we get some lizard eyes, we'll need them to make the paste. . ."

Giles quickly cut her off, recognising the glint in her eye. "Buffy, technically, I suppose that's true, but this is a police matter. You heard the man, they caught him, shot him, even, so there's nothing we can do." He heard the faint hint of disappointment in his voice.

"Giles, what are they going to do? Send him to prison for a little. Fuck that. He has to pay." They started walking down the hall towards Xander's room.

---

"Get the fuck away from him."

Spike stood toe to toe with the two men who were trying to wake his Xander. He had suddenly jerked awake, sensing something in the room and had found these bastards trying to shake Xander awake. He had instinctively started to slip into gameface, but the warning flash of pain had been enough to restore his control. He knew he had to maintain his human façade to ensure that he could remain at his beloved's side. That didn't mean he couldn't still try to protect what was his, though.

"Sir, look, we need to speak with him." One of the detectives held up his hands trying to calm the furious man in front of him. **Wow, they were right, he's like an animal** Officer Healy had warned them before going up that Xander had a very protective boyfriend and to be careful how they approached the situation. They had nodded, sure they could handle an upset partner. They hadn't been prepared in the least for the predatory glare which now confronted them.

"Sir," the other detective started, only to find vicious blue eyes staring him down. He stopped, swallowing hard. "Sir, we just need to talk to your boyfriend there, just need to find out what happened." He spoke in what he hoped was a soothing manner, sure that the man before him was growling.

"Sod off. He's sleeping." The growling had changed to a snarl. "Heard you already know. The fucker broke in, stabbed Xander," Spike's eyes shut as his whole body shook at that thought. "Stabbed him, raped him," Spike's voice went quiet at that. He looked down, barely controlling his rage. He looked back up, only the shaking of his voice and the faint flickers of yellow in his eyes betraying him. "You showed up, shot the bastard. Brought him here." Spike swallowed hard. "Not much else to find out now is there. Get out."

The detectives turned as they heard several people enter the room. A small blonde, a middle aged man, a small redhead holding hands with another girl, yet another girl.

"Spike, what's wrong? Who are they?" Willow moved quickly to his side, taking a hand, trying to calm him down.

"They're leaving." Spike continued to stare them down even as he curled his fingers into Willow's.

"Sir, we really need to speak to him," the detectives began again, only to find the small blonde had suddenly moved in front of them as well.

"No. He's sleeping. Let him be." Buffy folded her arms. This she could do. Some small way to protect Xander.

"Listen, we aren't trying to hurt him," **Great now there's a whole group of them**

"Spike"

The small voice stopped everyone in the room. Spike turned and was by Xander's side in an instant.

"I'm here, luv. I'm here." He reached over to get some ice, running a cool hand through Xander's hair, heart breaking as he looked into those brown eyes. "How do you feel?" Everything else faded away, only Xander mattered, only Xander remained.

"Like I got stabbed," came the faint voice, a small smile crossing his lips. Spike just stared down at him. "Hey, give me a break, not at my best here." He reached over, taking his lover's hand.

Xander just stared into Spike's eyes. He hurt. Everywhere. All over. The incision in his chest burned, his ribs ached with every breath. He could feel where his father had ripped into him. It didn't matter. He was holding Spike's hand, feeling Spike's fingers in his hair, hearing the quiet purring rolling down. Happiness spread through him. He thought he had lost them all forever.

He gradually became aware that the room was filled, that the rest of the gang was there, that there were some strange men still fighting with Buffy.

"Spike, what's going on?"

"Some stupid gits who want to talk to you. Slayer will make them go away." Spike continued to smooth his hands over every part of Xander he could touch, careful not to pull any of the wires or tubes that still covered Xander's body. "Do you hurt, do you want the doctor?"

"No, I'm fine." He heard a snort at that. "Ok, not fine, but you know." He swallowed, needing to know, but not wanting to ask. "You know what happened." A statement.

"Yes. Do you know they shot him?" Spike's eyes flashed yellow at the look of shame that suddenly crossed Xander's face, the scent of it striking him. Spike took a calming breath, the unnecessary action focusing his attention away from the rage that still burned him.

"Is he alive?"

"Yes. Not for long." The promise of it rang strong in Spike's voice. Xander just nodded.

He looked up to see the two men still engaged in a furious battle with Buffy. He smiled again, the men seemed surprised that such a little thing was so effective at keeping them away. "Who are they?"

Spike just glanced up, uncaring. "Some wankers from the police, want to talk to you. Told them to sod off." He spared another second to make sure that the Slayer was still holding them back. Good. **Knew she had some use**

Xander nodded again then tried to sit up, a wave of pain hitting him as he did so. **That's not a good idea** "Um, Spike, what did they want to know?"

"Don't know. Don't care."

"Spike, I'm going to have to talk to them," Xander sighed. This was not going to go well, he was so tired, still a little hazy from all the medicine. However, the sooner he got it over with, the sooner it would be done.

"No," Spike began. There was no way in hell that he was going to let them upset Xander, not now, not while those dark circles were under his eyes, that tube still under his nose, that thin line of blood visible where the incision had ripped open Xander's chest. "No fucking way."

"Spike, look I don't want to do this either, but you know I have to, they'll just keep bothering us if I don't. Besides," a small smile again crossed his face. "I'm still kinda drugged up, won't remember it later I bet." **Liar, liar, pants on fire** The feel of his father's hands throwing him into the wall, the sound of his father's voice, the sick look of triumph on his father's face when he raised the knife, the sound of it sinking into his flesh, the pain which had ripped him in two, the utter shock as his blood gushed out of his body, the agony of knowing, knowing that he would never touch Spike again, never get to say his name, never tell him he loved him, never again, all were burned into him. He would never forget that.

"No." There was no way that Spike was going to let them upset Xander. No. **So pale, so cold** "You're cold, where's another blanket?" Spike turned his head slightly. "Red, get me a blanket, there's a luv."

"Spike," the vampire turned back, hearing the note of resolution in Xander's voice. "Stop it. I have to do this. Have to get it over with."

Spike looked down. He knew that look. The look that said "Hey, you won't like it. Tough shit. Still doing it." Spike let out another sigh.

"Fine, pet, but the rest are leaving." No need to have an audience, besides, Spike knew there would be questions that Xander wouldn't want to answer quite yet. He knew they would ask about all the past times, knew that Xander would finally have to discuss it, finally have to admit all that happened. It was going to be hard enough without having to tell his friends that way.

"Deal." Xander nodded shakily. He didn't want to see the looks on everyone's faces, couldn't deal with that quite yet.

"Sure, pet?" At the quick nod, he leaned over, kissed Xander quickly, then stood.

"Right. Well mates, against my better judgement, the whelp there will talk to you. But the rest of you have to leave." He heard the protests, but ignored them. "Out. Now." A low growl accompanied the words, making it clear there was no choice.

Giles gathered up the protesting gang, catching Spike's eye on the way. There was something very wrong here. There was no reason for Spike to throw them all out if Xander was just going to give a statement about what happened. It may be upsetting, but surely Xander wouldn't want to explain twice. Spike just looked back. Giles frowned. Something was very wrong. Giles heard Spike pull the door shut behind him, blocking out any further questions.

---

Xander let out a heavy sigh. It had not gone well at all. The detectives were polite, calm but insistent. They made him go through everything that happened over and over, and it had been all Xander could do to keep Spike from trying to rip their throats out. Spike had sat next to him, getting him water, holding his hand, trying to pour his strength into Xander. The worst had been when they had started questioning him about the rape. He didn't remember it, not really. Once the knife had pierced his flesh, he had collapsed in agony. He vaguely recalled feeling his pants pulled down, but that was about it. But they had kept questioning him, kept pushing him and he had been forced to reveal everything, even things he had never told Spike. He had been very glad at that moment that Spike had turned his back to the men, because the second he mentioned how he could always tell when it was coming by the sound of the footsteps on the stairs, Spike had gone all vamp. The yellow eyes burned into his, a vow of retribution present there. One hand had continued to hold his, but the other had moved to the grasp the arm of the chair. Xander had focused on that hand as he spoke, the years of abuse pouring out of him, watching as Spike slowly crushed the arm, bending the metal into unrecognisable shapes.

When he had finished, he had been handed some business cards. Spike had ushered them out and then returned to his side. Xander had started to cry, but every breath just caused more pain. Spike had held him for a short time before getting a nurse, insisting that they gave him some kind of pain medication. The medicine hit him fast and he had fallen into a heavy sleep. Now, he was awake once again and could hear the quiet fight above him.

"Look, Watcher, it's none of your fucking business."

"Spike," the familiar sound of exasperation. "Be realistic. Sooner or later, we are going to find out what happened. It's obvious that something beyond a simple attack occurred. Once the police press charges, everyone will know. You might as well tell us."

He heard Spike pacing back and forth. "No. It's Xander's decision, it's his right to tell. And if he doesn't want to, then you lot had best leave him alone."

"We aren't trying to hurt him, we just want to know what happened." Giles continued, only to be stopped by a vicious growl.

"Too bloody late for that. You lot had your chance for years. Didn't even notice."

"Notice what," a huge sigh came from Giles. "Really, this secrecy is ridiculous. Whatever it is can't be that bad."

A disgusted snort. "Fucking humans. Think you know all about evil. You don't know the half of it. Think you're so smart. Can't even see what's right in front of you."

"Spike, what ARE you talking about?" The confusion was evident.

"As I already said, none of your fucking business, Watcher. Get out."

"No."

Xander finally forced his eyes open, unable to listen any longer.

"Will you two shut up already?" Once again, Spike instantly came to his side. "What's going on?" He looked over, Giles and Spike were the only ones in the room. "Where'd everybody go?"

Giles moved over and looked down. "I sent them to get something to eat. How are you feeling?"

"Like I was stabbed, covered that already." Xander looked back up. "What's going on?"

"That git" "Xander, I am just concerned," "Bloody ponce," "Now, there is no need. . ."

Xander interrupted again. "Guys, focus here. What's the fight about?"

Spike turned back to Xander, shooting one last nasty glance over to Giles.

"They want to know what happened, won't take no for an answer."

"Xander, it's more than that. It is obvious that this is something more than a random robbery or the like. We just want to know what truly happened."

The concern was evident in Giles voice. He had not been able to get any information in the few hours that had passed. The police had finally told him that an arrest had been made, but they would say nothing else. However, he had found something which made his blood run cold. He had returned to the room after the detectives left and had entered when he saw Spike leave to get a nurse. Spike had left the cards sitting on a side table and Giles picked one up. A name and then one other line. Special crimes section. Giles felt his heart stop. He knew what that euphemism was used to describe. Rape and sexual abuse investigations. He had slipped out of the room, then sent the rest out for food, telling them that Xander was asleep anyway. He had come back to confront Spike when Xander had stopped them.

"Whatever it is, you can tell us, you know." Giles removed his glasses, pinching the bridge of his nose. He had no idea how to handle this.

Spike's head shot up, catching some faint undercurrent to the words. "Watcher, get out. Need to talk to my mate here in private for a minute." Spike tried leering, figuring maybe those oh so perceptive eyes would mistake his intentions.

Giles nodded, not fooled in the least. "I'll be right outside."

Spike turned back to Xander, fussing with the pillows, making sure that Xander was comfortable. Xander put up with it for a minute, enjoying the attention, before he grasped Spike's wrist.

"Spike, what's wrong, there's something, just tell me. Are you mad that I didn't tell you all that stuff before," tears began to spill down his cheeks.

"Bloody hell, no." Spike placed his hands on either side of Xander's face, gently pulling Xander's head up to see his eyes. "No, I'm not mad at you. I'm going to destroy that fucking waste of flesh, but you have nothing to be ashamed about, nothing to worry about." Spike dropped quick kisses on Xander's head, aching to pull him into his arms.

"Stupid wires, can't even hold you properly, hate fucking hospitals." Spike closed his eyes, gathering his courage. This had to be done. "The police called earlier while you were asleep. They arrested that bastard. He's going in front of a judge tomorrow. They are charging him with several things, attempted murder, breaking and entering, rape." He steeled himself. **Now the hard part** "They expect it to be on TV, in the papers and the like." Spike felt the waves of anger, pain, shame and humiliation begin to pour from Xander.

"Everyone will know," Xander's eyes went wide. "Fuck, everyone will know, they'll know, oh fuck." **Hate me, know, hate me, dirty, hate me, know, know, leave me, hate me, dirty, dirty, dirty** He began to shake as the shame burned him. "Everyone will know, have to leave, everyone will know." He began to pant, ignoring the pain, the world going dark, blackness filling in the corners of his eyes. He began to unconsciously run his right wrist along the edge of the bed, needing the friction, needing the pain, feeling the IV begin to pull from his hand.

Spike hissed and then gently reached down and took Xander's hands in his own, stopping the motion. Grief spilled over him, watching Xander pull further and further inside, watching him slip away, watching Xander lose everything they had fought so hard to gain.

"Xander, look at me."

Xander just shook his head, closing his eyes tighter. **Can't look, no, hate me, dirty, hate me**

"Xander, please," Spike's voice broke, "Please, look at me. I love you. You didn't do anything, you didn't make him do this, you didn't cause this. I love you. Always love you. Please, just please," a hand reached up to caress the side of Xander's face, the other still holding Xander's right hand, trying to still the motion. "Please."

It was the sound of pain in that last word that finally snapped Xander out of his thoughts, the sound of his own agony reflected there. "You, you love me, even after everything," Xander's throat closed and he took a shaky breath. "After everything, you love me?"

Spike just nodded unable to speak. He didn't need to, the expression on his face revealing the truth.

Xander leaned up as far as he could and just managed to capture Spike's lips with his own. Crushing them together, he began to kiss Spike with everything he had, ignoring the pain his actions caused. Spike responded in kind, the events of the last day destroying them both, burning them down until only this was left. Pain, rage, terror, hatred, love, longing, all were there, all mingling with the taste of salt and blood as the tears poured down both their cheeks. Finally, Xander was forced to pull away, forced to gulp in the air.

Spike leaned him back, letting Xander regain control. Xander's breathing finally calmed, and he let out a small laugh.

"Surprised they didn't come in when the heart monitor went nuts like that."

Spike chuckled back, awed as always by the way Xander's sense of humour survived everything. "Probably would have if it wasn't for the camera."

He quirked an eyebrow as Xander's head tilted up to see that, sure enough, there was a camera over the bed. A smile slowly worked its way across Xander's lips. **Hmmmm, camera**

"So, there's a camera over the bed. That could be fun. Spike, ever wanted to be in a porno?" The grin widened. He had tasted the truth of Spike's words. Spike loved him, cherished him, didn't think anything was wrong with him, thought he was pure.

Spike opened his mouth in shock and then smirked. "What makes you think I'm not already?" Xander grinned back. The smiles slowly faded as they heard footsteps in the hall.

"I have to tell them, don't I?"

"Yes." Spike moved down from his perch on the side of the bed. "Do you want me to do it?" Anything, he would do anything Xander asked.

"No, I will." A deep breath, then Xander nodded. "I know just where to begin."

Xander watched as everyone trooped back in, Buffy, Willow and Anya all coming over to kiss him gently on the cheek, Tara shyly waving and Giles just standing at the foot of the bed. Spike was now standing next to him, unable to sit. Giles looked over, seeing the tension coiling in Spike. Spike nodded.

"Ask away. You won't like the answers." The quiet words cut through the chattering in the room.

Giles just nodded. "Xander, why don't you tell us what happened."

A quick glance up to see Spike standing there, still but for the clenching of the muscles along his jaw. Xander took in one more breath then started, determined to get this all out at once.

"Ok, but it's not a simple story. And no interruptions, have to do this once." Another look up, a quick squeeze of Spike's hand.

"Buffy, remember you asked how Deadboy and I hooked up? Didn't quite tell you the truth. Right after Anya and I broke up, Spike stopped over to see me one night. He found me lying in a pool of blood in the bathroom. My father had beaten me pretty badly." He heard the shocked gasps. He had decided not to tell them the entire truth, he couldn't deal with that right now. There was no need to reveal everything just yet. "Spike got Willy to send a doctor to fix me up then he moved in with me to make sure that I wasn't hurt again. Well, that night we told you I was mugged, that wasn't exactly true, it was my father again. That's when Spike told me I had to move and we left the next day. Then, about a week ago, we ran into my father at Wal-Mart, he saw us kissing, went nuts. Last night, **only a day ago, feels like forever** I was studying, sent Spike for coffee, heard the elevator, thought it was Spike, went to the door. It was my father, he threw me into the wall, called me a faggot, said, said, I was a disgrace, that he should have killed me a long time ago, then he stabbed me." Xander stopped, out of breath from having run through it all so quickly.

He looked up to see the shock on everyone's faces. It was Buffy who managed to speak first.

"Your father, your father did this to you," her voice rose steadily. "Your fucking father, that bastard," Buffy shook, furious. His father. His father.

Willow looked up, tears streaming down her face. "He hit you, did he always hit you, why didn't you tell me, could have done something," her breath began to hitch. How could she not have known.

Spike just watched them, waiting for the question, seeing it in the Watcher's eyes.

"Xander, I am so sorry," Giles voice came quietly drifting down. "I don't understand though, why didn't Spike just take you to hospital that first night? Why go through Willy, why not call us?" He heart was heavy, knowing the answer, sending prayers to every god he could recall that he was wrong.

Xander closed his eyes, unable to look at them as he said the words. "Because my father didn't just beat me. He raped me, too."

Dead silence. Then howling, the voices mingling. Buffy's, Willow's, Anya's. A loud snap as something snapped in two. Through it all, Spike's hand in his, grasping tightly, giving him strength.

"Raped you, he raped you, oh goddess, Xander," Willow grasping his other hand. He forced open his eyes, seeing the agony on her face. "Xander, why didn't you tell me, why didn't you tell us, that's horrible, how could he have done that," Xander saw the realisation hit her and saw her knees buckle, saw Tara rush to catch her as she fell.

"Not the first time, Xander, why didn't you. . ." Willow began to shake. Best friend, her best friend, known him forever, part of her and she never knew. How could she not know.

"How long?" Buffy's voice. Cold, clipped, insane. Xander forced himself to meet her eyes. They looked like Spike's had that night, so long ago, when Spike had come racing into the basement. Absolutely burning hatred. Utter rage. Pure vengeance.

"Since I was eleven."

Willow's sobbing grew even harder, Tara trying desperately to calm her, to get her to breathe. Eleven. The words pounded into her. Eleven. All those years.

Spike just watched them, part of him enjoying the scene. They deserved this. Deserved to have their world destroyed, deserved to suffer for their blindness. Deserved to pay for their crime. They never saw, never wanted to see. Another part of Spike protested. That wasn't true, they hadn't seen because Xander hadn't wanted them to see. Spike ruthlessly shut that part of his mind down. It didn't matter. They had hurt what was his. Now they hurt in turn. It was only right.

Giles moved to stand in front of Spike. "You knew." Blunt accusation.

"Yes, walked into the middle of it. Tried to kill the bastard but couldn't. Fucking chip. Managed to slam him into the wall at least." Spike's voice was as cold as the Slayer's.

"Why didn't you say something?" Giles lashed out, trying desperately to find someone, anyone else to blame. It all made sense now. Xander's jumpiness, the use of humour as a shield, the way he never talked about his family, the curious lack of self-preservation. He should have known. Maybe he had known but ignored it.

"Asked me not to. So I didn't. Wouldn't have now but it's all going to come out."

Giles slowly backed away, knowing Spike was telling the truth. Buffy quickly moved to take his place. They eyed each other levelly, silently reaching an agreement. Buffy turned to Xander, reaching out to take his hand.

"Xander, I'm sorry, I'm so terribly sorry," Buffy stopped as the tears filled her eyes. No. She would weep later, now was not the time. "Just know this one thing. He will pray to die before Spike and I are through with him. He will beg and beg and we will show no mercy. I'm sure that Spike knows just how to keep him alive and, if not, I'm equally sure that Willow will find some spell. He will pay and pay dearly. I swear to you. I will not rest until I taste his blood. I will kill him for you." The words rang in the room.

"No," Xander started.

"Don't give me the whole you're the Slayer you can't kill humans bit. That, that thing," she spat the words out. "That thing isn't human. I would go find him and do it now but I want to make it last and last."

"No." Xander said again. "No, you won't kill him." An evil grin spread across his face. "I have a much better idea."

Part Fourteen

"Spike, for gods sake, will you just sit down?"

Xander let out a sigh as he watched Spike pace across the room for the 463rd time that evening. It had been six days since Xander had been attacked and he was finally beginning to feel somewhat better. Enough so that Spike's incessant pacing was driving him slowly insane. **Yeah, and imagine how he must feel**

Spike had refused to leave the room the entire time Xander had been there. Luckily, Dr. O'Rourke had arranged for Xander to be roomed in what obviously was some type of suite. There was a main room with Xander's bed, three chairs, a few small tables and a couch. A large bathroom was off to the side and then a separate bedroom with a regular bed, a few more chairs, a television and a large closet. Since Xander had woken that first day, Spike had remained at Xander's side, moving only to get a nurse or when one the doctors made him move so Xander could be examined. Spike slept in a chair next to Xander's bed, always holding his hand, or running his fingers through Xander's hair, or standing at the foot of the bed with an arm resting lightly on Xander's leg. Xander had finally gotten him to let go that morning by promising to let Spike wash his hair later that night. Spike had a thing for washing his hair and Xander had to admit that he liked it too. Now, Spike was pacing back and forth, watching Xander the entire time. It was as if Spike was terrified that Xander would disappear if Spike let go, if he took his eyes off Xander for even one moment.

Xander's eyes grew wide at the thought. He looked up, realising how gaunt Spike had become, how tired those eyes were, how Spike seemed even paler than usual. **His fault, he thinks it's his fault.** Xander felt his throat close as he realised the truth. This had to be dealt with, he couldn't stand Spike thinking he bore any fault for what had occurred.

"Spike, seriously, would you come over here, sit down, I want to talk to you about something."

"Of course, luv, are you all right, do you need something, isn't it almost time for your medication again, do you need something to drink?" Spike heard himself fussing but he couldn't stop. He had failed. He had promised to keep Xander safe and he had failed. This was all he could do now, try to make everything safe, try to keep Xander comfortable, distract him, try to make the pain go away.

Xander reached down and grabbed Spike's hands as they skimmed over his body, checking that everything was ok, that all the hated wires and tubes were secure.

"No, Spike, stop it. I want to talk to you about something." Xander grasped the hands tightly, waiting for Spike to meet his gaze.

"Yes, pet, what is it? Do you need something, I can have the Watcher or Red go for whatever it is. You must be bloody bored out of your mind, do you want some books, or some music," again the almost frantic litany of options, the listing of things that Spike would do. The desperation of it hit Xander, the fear clear in the worried tones.

"No. Spike, I want to ask you something. Do you think this is your fault? Do you think that you let me down somehow, that you could have done something to prevent this?" Xander kept his voice quiet, grasping Spike's hands in his, knowing that Spike would try to pull away.

Spike stared back for a moment, then his head dropped. Finally, Xander had asked, finally he had realised what he had done, finally he would make Spike leave, would lash out for the broken promises, for the protection which Spike could never give. His hands began to shake as he tried to pull away.

"Yes." Spike could barely force the word out, but the truth of it burnt the air. He continued to look down, not wanting to meet Xander's gaze, unwilling to see the betrayal that would reside there.

"Spike, Spike, look at me." Xander continued to hold on, knowing exactly what Spike was thinking, seeing the pain in the profile of Spike's face. "Spike, please. It's not your fault, there was nothing you could have done. I was the one who asked you to go out, I was the one who opened the door without seeing who was there first."

Xander swallowed hard at that. Since the night they first had their friends over, they had been getting regular visitors to their apartment. Spike had arranged for cameras both at the entrance to the elevator on the ground level and again at their front door. He had told Xander over and over to never let anyone in until he saw who it was first. Xander had just laughed, amused as always by the lengths to which Spike would go to protect him.

"I heard the elevator, thought it was you and just opened the door. If I had looked like you told me to, I would never have let him in, Spike, if it's anyone's fault, it's mine." Xander heard a sudden hiss as Spike's head shot up.

"Never say that. How can you think that, this is not your fault, none of it is your fault. That motherfucker came after you and you did nothing, do you hear me, nothing to make him." Spike's voice shook with rage and pain. "No, I won't stand for this. You always try to make everything somehow your fault, this isn't. It isn't, it's mine, I left you, I should have known, I promised he would never hurt you and he did, I'm sorry, please, forgive me, please don't make me leave." Spike's voice grew weaker as he visibly began to shake. "Please, I'll do anything, just don't leave me." His head dropped to the bed.

"Don't leave me, couldn't bear it, everything, don't. . ." His voice trailed off as Spike began to weep, the fear and pain of the last week pouring out of him.

Xander just ran his hand through Spike's soft hair. Now it was his turn to comfort, his turn to be strong, his turn to provide an anchor for the pain. It had worried him that Spike had tried to seem so strong, so resolute. It was one thing for him to be that way when the others were present, Xander understood that. Spike did not like to reveal how vulnerable he could truly be, still needed to appear to be the heartless bastard that the others knew and loathed. But, even when they were alone, even when Xander had woken screaming from the nightmares that plagued him, Spike had remained calm. Other than that first night, Spike had not shown any release for the anger and fear that Xander knew was still in Spike. Knew because it was still in him as well. Xander managed to tug on Spike enough to pull his head onto Xander's shoulder.

"Shh, it's over, it's all over. I'm going to be fine. I will never leave you. I can't leave you, I'm yours remember. Spike, open your eyes, look down, see, that's your mark there, I'm yours, always yours. It's not my fault either, there was nothing either of us could have done, shh, it's all right." Xander ran his hands along Spike's back, sending up a quick prayer of thanks that he could finally move, a little anyway. He had been allowed to sit up just in the last few days and slowly but surely the various machinery was being disconnected. "Shh, that's right, let it out, it's fine, I'm fine, love you, not mad at you, never mad at you, you did everything you could, nothing else you could have done, shh."

They stayed like that for a long time, Spike's sobbing letting off some then starting again as Spike thought of how close he had come to losing Xander. Finally, Spike managed to lift his head. He needed to see Xander's eyes, needed to know that the words were true. Xander still loved him, even though he had failed.

"Xander, I'm sorry. Please, forgive me."

Xander just crushed Spike into him, pulling as close as they could, Spike still careful to lean away from the wound that ran down the centre of Xander's chest.

"Nothing to forgive. I love you. Stop being such a bloody idiot, turning into your brooding Sire there." Xander whispered the words, a small smile crossing his lips. Spike loved it when Xander talked like him. And he knew the immediate reaction any mention of Angel would provoke.

"Don't compare me to that bloody pouf." The response came like clockwork, causing Xander's smile to widen. "I love you too, don't deserve you," again the waver in Spike's voice, but the usual amusement beginning to return as well. "Turning me into a girl here, whelp, leaking about all over the place.

Xander just grinned at that. "Yeah, nancy boy."

"Idiot"

"Wanker"

"Moron"

"Ponce"

"Prick"

Xander paused for a second, trying to remember any of Spike's other favourite insults when he felt cool lips press into his. He leaned into the kiss eagerly, needing this connection, feeling some semblance of normalcy return between them. He opened his mouth, sliding a tongue across Spike's lips. He felt Spike's mouth open to him and he eagerly plunged his tongue into that cool mouth, drawing Spike's tongue into his own. He moaned, needing this, wanting this, the taste driving him insane. His grip on Spike's back tightened, drawing him closer. Xander's hands began to wander down Spike's back, moving lower and lower. He felt Spike's hands tangle in his hair, knew that Spike longed to caress him as well. **Fucking hospitals** The thought crossed both their minds at the same time as the kiss changed. Not comforting. Not claiming. Not relearning each other's taste. No, it was needful, lustful, the desire burning into them both. Xander pulled back, gulping in air, then leaned back into that mouth, desire rising strong between them.

Spike suddenly yanked away, shaky breaths coming from him as well. He locked eyes with Xander, trying to calm them both.

"Bloody hell, want you." The words forced their way past his lips despite his effort to stop them.

"Tell me about it," came the wry reply as Xander tried to stop his hands from moving further down Spike's back, trying to stop them from pulling Spike's shirt out from the waist of his jeans, trying to stop them from running along that flat, flat stomach. His hands, however, appeared to have a mind of their own.

A gasp came from Spike and he closed his eyes, feeling the heat of Xander's touch burn him.

"Christ, Xan, what are you doing?" He tried to pull away, but Xander held him firm.

"Not too sure. Want you though, fuck, what's the use of having this great bed that moves for you if you can't use it," the words were muttered into Spike's lips as Xander leaned back up.

"Can't be good for your stitches," Spike managed to get out with the few seconds of control he had remaining.

"I know, been thinking about this though, had an idea." With that, Xander plunged his hand down the front of Spike's jeans, having managed to get the zipper down by distracting Spike by sucking on his neck. He needed this, had to have Spike in some way. He grasped the hard length and began to stroke, slowly and surely.

Spike's head fell back. **Fuck, taught him too bloody well by half** "Xander, what if someone comes in. . . Oh, that, again, oh hell."

Xander drank in the sight above him, watching the emotions play on that beautiful face. "Let them, my boyfriend, do what I want, my room, their fault for coming in."

Xander continued his long, sure strokes, feeling the tension building, knowing that Spike wouldn't be able to hold back for long. He quickened his pace, swiping his thumb over the soft skin of Spike's tip, just how Spike liked, exactly what he wanted, just what they both needed. He watched as Spike's face rippled, the ridges coming out, then felt the shudder go through his love, felt the cold liquid pour down his hands, heard the broken words.

"Xan, love, hell, always," Spike panted, unable to finish a thought, the pleasure crashing through him. He managed to stay standing only by propping one arm along the wall. He watched, hazy eyed, as Xander placed him back in his jeans then zipped him back up.

Slowly, deliberately, Xander lifted his hand to his lips, then wrapped his tongue around his finger, licking it clean. Spike felt his cock twitch again at the sight.

"Mmmm, much better than hospital food." He grinned as he looked up, Spike's eyes still hazy. "You better get cleaned up, don't want to be too obvious," he began.

Spike suddenly leaned down and captured Xander's mouth in his. This time they were calmer, gentler, Spike licking his taste out of Xander's mouth.

"Sure thing, pet, won't be the same without you. However, still have some unfinished business." Now it was Spike's hands that moved carefully down Xander's body, reaching over to grasp Xander's erection. Gently, he began to stroke up and down, a slow but strong rhythm, careful not to jar Xander too much.

Xander's eyes closed, lips parting and his tongue running along his lower lip. "Spike," a low moan. **So good, so good** "Spike, just, careful, you know."

A low chuckle. "Don't worry, pet, don't want the doctors yelling at me." Spike resumed the steady pace, drawing it out. Finally, Xander felt his orgasm coming, felt it crash into him, felt the strong hands holding his hips so that he wouldn't jar anything, felt a cool tongue lean down and lick him clean.

Spike moved back up, dropped a quick kiss on Xander's temple, seeing that Xander had already fallen into a light sleep. He slipped into the bathroom and Xander faintly heard the shower begin as he surfaced back to consciousness for a moment. He smiled then fell back to sleep.

---

"What do you mean, another week?" The words were yelped out in unison, the frustration apparent in both voices.

Dr. O'Rourke took a deep breath, knowing they wouldn't like the news. "Xander, you're healing very nicely, everything looks great, but, still, you went through a significant traumatic event, followed by a major surgery. We just want to make sure that everything is fine before we send you home. We don't want you coming back here, now, do we?" The voice was eminently reasonable, the logic impeccable.

A low rumble came from Spike. "Stupid git."

A small smile crossed the surgeon's face. Looked like the vampire had some sense, at least, and wasn't trying to convince him to let his patient out early. It was obvious that the two of them were slowly going insane stuck here in this room.

"Xander, you've only been allowed to get out of bed for what, three days now, you're still very weak. You are not up to any strenuous activity." A harsh glare at the both of them. He didn't want to think about what the two of them might be considering trying now that Xander had been allowed to walk. Two sets of completely innocent eyes looked back at him. **This isn't good**

"Doctor, I'm perfectly aware of my limitations." Xander managed to keep the grin off his face and out of his voice only with a huge effort. "Trust me, I'm not doing anything strenuous."

"Of course not, pet, you let me do all the work." Spike smirked over, and Xander couldn't help smirking back. That was true, Spike had been very gentle, very cautious, they hadn't done anything more than kiss and touch one another.

Dr. O'Rourke just sighed and rolled his eyes to the ceiling. "Just, try to keep it under control, gentlemen. Try not to shock the nurses." He regretted the words the second they left his mouth.

"Don't know about that, mate, I think they would rather appreciate the show. See enough with that camera, now, don't they?" Spike grinned up at him, thoroughly enjoying the blush that was stealing up the man's face. "What about it, luv, don't you think they appreciate it?"

"I know I would," came the amused reply.

The doctor just shook his head. "Look, one week. Then you can go home." With that he fled the room.

Xander and Spike grinned at each other, excitement building. One week, one week and they could go home. Spike's eyes narrowed at that a little, and he glanced over at the clock. 8:15 p.m.

"Pet, I've got somewhere I have to be."

Xander's eyes widened at that, Spike had pretty much refused to leave the room until the day before, when he had left for about an hour while Xander was receiving respiratory therapy. He still had problems taking deep breaths due to the depth of the stab wound.

"Oh, that's fine, when will you be back?" Xander tried to keep the worry out of his voice. Spike quickly leaned down and kissed him on the forehead.

"About an hour, maybe an hour and a half, not quite sure. Do you want me to call when I'm on my way back?" He traced a finger down Xander's cheek, calming his lover.

"Please, I'll feel better. Where are you going?" Xander cursed himself. **Acting like a child, probably going to kill something, make him feel better**

"It's a surprise," came the reply. Spike leaned down, kissed Xander's cheek then left.

One week later

Spike took one last look around the hated room, making sure they had everything. Buffy and Willow had already checked, moving the stacks of books and the other various and sundry items that had accumulated over the two weeks Xander had spent in the hospital. **Clothes, books, CDs, my lighter** The room was empty. He moved back to the door and took Xander's hand.

"Right, let's get the fuck out of here," Xander said, dying to leave. He felt much better, still weak, but better. The incision had healed well, but was still sore to touch. His stamina wasn't very good, but he had been given a clean bill of health. He wasn't allowed to return to classes yet and he and Spike had received a fairly incoherent lecture from Dr. O'Rourke, the gist of which seemed to be that resuming sex was fine just not to overdue it. Which was very, very bad news because all Xander could think about was getting Spike into bed. Not just for sex, he craved to feel Spike's arms around him as he slept.

"Right." Spike tossed one last look back over his shoulder, then they walked out, joining the rest of the gang waiting to see Xander off. They moved down the hall, Willow taking his other hand. They reached the elevator and Xander ceremoniously pushed the button for the ground floor. They walked out into the night and Xander grinned when he saw his Jeep sitting parked right in front of the building.

"So, I get to drive," he started happily for the door, but was gently pulled back.

"Not exactly, pet." Spike settled him into the passenger's side, buckling him up as everyone else piled into the back.

Spike carefully pulled away and Xander suppressed a grin. Usually, driving with Spike was an adventure, but now he was cautiously signalling and turning left. Left.

"Um, Spike, where are we going, the apartment's the other way."

"Is it?" Spike continued driving, a smile tugging at the corner of his lips.

"Spike, what are you up to?" Xander knew what that smile meant and it usually meant no good.

Spike just shrugged, as he made a turn off to the right. Xander quickly became lost as they took a few more turns in rapid succession. Xander realised they were now in one of the nicer neighbourhoods of Sunnydale.

"Spike," very quietly, very calmly. "Where the hell are you going?"

Spike just grinned as he pulled to a stop in front of a gated driveway.

"Home." With that, he leaned out the window and punched the security code into the box next to the gate. The gate swung open and Spike pulled in, pausing to make sure the gate latched behind them.

Xander shot another glance over as they curved around some tall trees. Then, he saw the house. A long, low Spanish style ranch house greeted his gaze, lush plant-life running along the driveway which curved to a circle in front of the house, a small fountain in the centre. The landscaping continued along the front of the house, small spotlights shining up. Spike gently pulled the car to a stop in front of the door and looked over, beaming.

"Surprise."

Stunned silence filled the Jeep. Xander just stared.

"When, why, Christ, Spike," he finally started, having no idea what to say.

Spike just laughed, got out of the car and walked around the front, pulling Xander's door open. He helped Xander out, then slung an arm across his shoulders.

"No fucking way you were ever going back to that place," Spike whispered quietly in Xander's ear. "Thought you might like a change of scenery, pet. Saw this place awhile ago, thought you might like it." That part said loudly, for the sake of their friends who were spilling out from the back.

That was true, he had an eye on this house since he first came across it during one of his late night prowls a few months before. It had been empty and some demons had been living there. After Spike killed them, he had wandered through the house, admiring the spaciousness and proportions of the rooms. He had known, as soon as he had been assured that Xander would be fine, that they would not be returning to the apartment. He couldn't bear the thought of it and he would never allow Xander to be reminded of what had happened. He made some calls, arranged for the purchase, for the furnishings, to have them moved, again amused by how the promise of cash could ease anything.

The rest of the group stood there, open-mouthed.

"Spike, goddess, this is beautiful, is this really yours?" Willow said, looking at the house.

"Sure is, Red, why, you like?" Spike grinned down at her, seeing the confusion in all their faces.

"Seriously, Spike, how did you do this?" Buffy's slightly awed voice next to him. "Where did you get the money, you did buy this, right?" Buffy's eyes narrowed at that. "Thought you were broke."

Xander began to laugh at that, then Spike joined in until they were leaning against the Jeep, nearly falling into each other.

"Not exactly, Buff. Blondie here is a bit of a liar. You should see the portfolio on him. And I don't mean that in a sexual way." Xander managed to gasp out, grabbing his side. "Ow, don't make me laugh like that."

Giles shot them a look. He had had his suspicions about that. "Well, it is lovely." He turned, noticing for the first time that a low wall surrounded the property with what appeared to be newly installed electrical wires at the top.

"C'mon, luv, don't you want to see inside." Spike grinned, pleased with himself. If the Jeep had been a good idea, then this, this was a fabulous idea. They moved up the steps and Spike handed Xander the keys with a bow.

"After you."

Xander felt like his face was going to split in two from the grin he knew was plastered there. He opened the door, eyes widening when he saw chandelier hanging down, saw that the house was fully furnished. Turning back, he pulled Spike in after him, noticing that Spike entered with no hesitation. **Of course not, idiot, his house, our house, already been invited**

"Come on in," he called to the others, Spike shooting him an amused glance. They came in, jaws again dropping at the sight of the house. They had entered into a large open entrance hall with a peaked cathedral ceiling. Hanging down was a chandelier, its arms spreading out, appearing to hold candles on the ends. The floor was tiled in a colourful red and yellow sunburst pattern. Low benches ran along one wall with doorways heading in all directions. They could see that there was another set of doors on the other side, leading into the back yard.

Anya wandered off to the right, shaking her head. She always knew Spike had taste, he was with Xander after all, but this was so unexpected. Everyone followed her as she stepped down a step into a large living room. Again, it was fully furnished, a soft ivory couch running in a curve along one wall, a low glass table in front of it, plants everywhere, endtables with small lamps casting a warm glow, the television against the wall in front of them. She noticed absently that heavy curtains were on the windows, then resumed her study of the room. Three smaller leather chairs in the same ivory faced the couch. A bar ran along the far wall with a pool table in front of it. A small bathroom was set in a corner next to the bar. Willow let out a low exclamation of delight.

Buffy walked through the next doorway, coming into the large dining room. A long table ran the length of the room, the dark wood in contrast to the lightness of the walls. Three lights hung from the ceiling, illuminating the small flower arrangements set on the table. Continuing forward, she entered the kitchen. She flipped on the light and stepped back, startled. It looked like something from a magazine. The kitchen was bright and cheery, the same red and yellow tile scheme continuing through here. A central island with stools was in the centre, with a huge, professional looking stove behind it. A large, three-basin sink was off to one side of the stove, while a coffee maker sat on the counter on the other side. Off to the right was a breakfast area, with a bay window, again with heavy curtains, a bench seat running under the window with a table in front of it. The refrigerator was off to the right, blending into the cabinets. A rack hung over the island, with pots and pans hanging down. It looked like Emeril was going to come out and start cooking any minute.

"Xander, Spike, wow, this is, wow, too bad you don't cook."

"Actually, Slayer, I'm quite the cook," came the amused response behind her as Spike pulled a speechless Xander in behind him. Buffy just shot him a look. "Well, I am. I would tell you to ask the whelp here, but, well, cat's got his tongue."

Spike couldn't help it. He was thrilled. He had finally gotten a chance to find a place appropriate for Xander and it appeared that his friends were suitably impressed. **About time they realised how he should be treated** He gently tugged Xander around. "Want to see the bedrooms?" He leered suggestively, earning him a whap.

"Yes, but later for the rest," Xander said, finally breaking out of his stupor. He could not believe the house, could not believe it was his. Could not believe Spike had found the time to do this.

"Spike, when did you do all this," he asked as Spike herded everyone back to the other end of the house.

"You were asleep a lot and, well, that's why they invented the telephone. Can do anything by phone nowadays." **Especially when you know the right people** Spike had ended up calling in a few favours, but it was worth it. The hardest part had been trusting that it would be decorated properly, but he was relieved to see that Cordelia had been right in her recommendation. Passing through the entranceway, they entered a long hallway. Two bedrooms were to the left, a large bathroom connecting the two. Another bedroom with an attached bath was on their right. Then a study, bookshelves lining the wall, a desk facing the windows into the backyard, the computer glowing softly. Next, a larger room, set up as a training area, various pieces of exercise equipment grouped around a large mat with a heavy bag in the corner. Finally, Spike stopped as they reached the end of the hall.

"Right, our rooms, no need for you to see that." Ignoring the protests he cocked his head. "Wouldn't you rather go out back and see the pool? Oh, and did I fail to mention that there's a hot tub." He watched as they took off back down the hall, Xander following. Spike started to follow when he felt a hand fall on his shoulder. He looked up to see Giles staring at him.

"Spike, this, this is very, well, quite much," Giles began. "I couldn't help but notice that there is a wall around the property. And that it seems to be topped by an electric fence."

Spike just shot a glance over. "Wouldn't bloody let me put in the moat now, would they?" Giles just looked back, knowing that Spike wasn't entirely joking. "Nothing will get in here, Watcher. Not while I'm still here." The words hung in the air.

Nodding, Giles followed Spike back down the hall. "I was sure of that." They heard a squeal, then a splash. Sighing, Giles shook his head. "Shall we see what the children are up to?"

Walking out the back entrance, they found that Anya had already pushed Willow into the pool with Tara not far behind. Buffy had gone to help them both out, only to find herself tugged in. A huge water fight had ensued and Xander was just standing there, grinning madly. Spike walked behind him, wrapping his arms around his lover's waist.

"So, do you like?" Spike quietly asked, a little concerned.

His only response was a soft kiss on the cheek. They stood, watching as the splashing continued.

---

They were finally alone. Spike and Xander had taken them back to the hospital to pick up Giles' car. Then, they had returned to the house, Xander paying closer attention to where they were going. They pulled back in and Xander found his heart in his throat once again as they pulled in front of the house. He owned a house. He OWNED a HOUSE. He had never even considered the possibility. They sat there for a moment, lost in their thoughts. Finally, Xander leaned over, resting his head on Spike's shoulder.

"Must love me or something."

"Something like that."

"This is, I love it, it's perfect. I can't believe you did this." Xander leaned back up, got out of the car and carefully stretched. They walked back in and, as soon as the door was shut, Xander pinned Spike to the wall.

"Really love, can't wait to see our rooms, particularly bed," he rumbled into Spike's ear as he began to kiss down Spike's neck, moving directly for the spot halfway down that he knew drove Spike insane.

"Figured you would," Spike managed to push them off the wall, then down the hall, walking backwards so that he could watch Xander's face, could lean up for quick kisses. They reached the doors at the end of the hall.

"Close your eyes," whispered Spike. Xander quickly complied, excitement of all sorts racing through him. Spike pushed the doors opened, then led Xander in.

"Open your eyes, Xander," Spike gently commanded.

Xander opened his eyes, looking around in awe. Their bed was along the back wall of a large room, lit by soft light coming from the lamps in each corner. Another couch was under windows on the far side, a television next to it, visible from the bed. Dark chests stood along the other walls, with candles on top of the one nearest the bed. Off to the right was a huge walk in closet. Off to the left was the bathroom and Xander could just make out a separate shower and bathtub. His attention, however, was directed almost entirely on the bed.

"This is great, explore it later. Bed now." Xander pushed Spike across the room, focused only on the almost painful longing to be a part of him. It wasn't just how long it had been, it was the need to be together, to feel a part of each other, to reassure each other that they were still one.

Spike groaned as Xander pushed him down, relishing this. It had been all he could do not to just throw everyone out, but he wanted to prove to everyone that he was capable of taking care of Xander, that his love was safe with him.

Xander slowly leaned into Spike, covering that cool body with his own, careful to rest on his forearms which were on either side of Spike's head, still not able to tolerate much pressure on his chest. They kissed long and slow, building the passion gently, carefully. Neither wanted this to be over quickly, they wanted to take their time, to enjoy the luxury of truly being alone.

Spike reached up, running his hands over Xander's back, the familiar body now thinner, a little more frail. He leaned up and gently turned them on their sides, knowing that Xander's arms would quickly tire. He moved his mouth down, trailing along Xander's jawline, down his neck, lingering on the scar from his mark, licking his tongue around the twin wounds. Xander moaned and thrust his hips into Spike's, their groins coming into contact, their erections straining against each other.

Xander reached his hands under Spike's shirt, running a flat palm on Spike's nipple, feeling it immediately harden. He moved his hand down, his other entwined in Spike's hair, tracing each ripple of Spike's perfect abdomen. He heard the familiar moan, the automatic tilt of Spike's hips, relearning the flesh, remembering just where to touch to see Spike's head tilt, exposing his throat. Xander bent down and began to suck at the hollow of Spike's throat, feeling Spike's thrusts quicken, a low growl begin to move through the vampire. Xander leaned back and pulled Spike's shirt off just as Spike did the same to his own.

Spike pushed Xander flat onto the bed, seeing the clean edge of the incision next to the rougher one from the stab wound. A quick flash of pain glimmered across his features, then Spike bent down and began to slowly lick his way up each wound, taking care not to hurt, but needing to taste, to become part of the pain.

Xander's eyes closed at the trace of Spike's tongue. The coolness of it eased the pain, the itching that had started as the scars began to form. The feel of it was driving him mad, the way that Spike was worshipping his body, cleansing the wounds, trying to lap them away. Xander felt himself growing harder and harder, until he was nearly in pain from the tightness against his zipper. He pulled Spike up, kissing him deeply, as he reached down to unbutton Spike's jeans. Spike took the hint and quickly returned the favour, easing the pressure.

Soon, they were naked, flesh pressing into flesh. They lay there, entwined in one another, lengths pressed together as they cherished just this, just the feel of being in one another's arms. Soon, too soon, the heat overwhelmed them, and they began to rock together, each touch pushing them further towards completion, tongues circling one another.

Spike pulled back and reached out for his duster. He pulled the small tube out and pressed it into Xander's hand. Xander took it, then leaned back, looking at Spike. Spike just nodded, then rolled onto his back, pulling his legs to his chest.

Xander opened the tube with shaky hands. Usually, Spike was the one to penetrate him. He was still a little insecure about fucking Spike, not positive he was doing it right, not sure if he was bringing pleasure to the man beneath him, even with Spike's assurances to the contrary. But something in Spike's eyes told him he needed this, needed Xander to fill him, needed to know that they were one, needed that connection. Xander carefully reached down, then pressed a finger forward. There was some resistance but not much. Xander watched Spike's face the entire time, seeing Spike's eyes begin to haze over, feeling Spike begin to move in time with the rhythm. He searched, found the spot, and was rewarded by the sight of Spike grasping the sheets, knuckles turning white from the pressure.

"There, again, just like that, Xander, Xander," the words came flowing down from above. Xander pulled out, inserted another finger and began to move just like Spike had told him, just like Spike did to him. Quickly, Spike began to relax beneath him, began to open fully and completely. A third finger entered as Spike began to thrash on the bed, pushing down as Xander's hand pushed up. Finally, Spike began to beg.

"Xander, in me, please, part of me, need it, need you, love you, please, please, love you."

With that, Xander placed the tip of his cock against Spike's opening and entered him, the tightness and the coolness grasping him. Now it was Xander's head that snapped back, Xander's voice that broke as he began to move in time with Spike's rhythm.

"Spike, love you, never leave, love you, part of you, feel me, in you, love you," the words like music to Spike's ears. He was impaled, truly impaled. The heat of it burned into every pore of his body, bathing him in its pureness. It was like nothing he had ever known, the feel of it driving through his very being. He craved it, wanting more and more. Spike began to move faster, drawing Xander in deeper and deeper. He cared nothing for his own release, he just wanted this, wanted to feel Xander come deep inside him, wanted to know that Xander was a part of him. Then he felt a warm hand grasp him, felt the pull as Xander pumped in time with their thrusts.

"Together, please together, see you, want to see you," Xander's voice panting above him. Spike managed to open his eyes. He saw Xander's face, contorted in pleasure, the thick dark hair sweaty and falling around his face, the golden skin glowing above him. Spike felt himself begin to slip over the edge, the vision of it combined with the feel of Xander filling him proving too much.

"Can't wait, now, Xan, love you, Xander," with a furious cry, Spike came, bucking into Xander's hand, his muscles clutching the prick buried deep inside him.

With a strangled cry, Xander came, the expression on Spike's face pulling out his own release. He felt strong hands holding his hips, holding him inside that coolness. He felt himself begin to collapse, only to be caught and gently cradled into Spike's chest.

"I love you," he managed to gasp out.

Spike just kissed the top of his head, holding him as tightly as possible. Finally, Xander pulled up, sliding out of Spike, causing a small whimper of protest from his lover. Xander settled into the crook of Spike's arm, content to his very core.

They lay quietly, both fading off to sleep. Automatically, Xander turned on his side and Spike curled into his back. Xander just hummed, an echoing purr coming from Spike. This, this was what had been missing during those long days in that damn hospital bed.

"Spike,"

"Hmmm," came the sleepy reply.

"Thanks for the house."

"Glad you like."

"Only one thing."

"What's that, luv?"

"We're going to have to have a discussion about exactly what I meant by small gifts." The grin was apparent in Xander's voice.

Spike just let out a quiet chuckle, "You should've seen the place I really wanted."

Xander just laughed in return and snuggled in tighter. They quickly drifted off, at peace for the first time in days.

Part Fifteen

They moved like a dark wind through the trees, their white heads turning in tandem, their pale faces shining with rage. Gone were the quips and laughter. Only pain remained, only a vicious need to destroy. They were silent, deadly, the only sounds the occasional grunt or howl when they were knocked into something. No toying, no playing, just focused hatred. Occasionally, one of them would snap and whatever vampire or demon was unfortunate enough could hear the murmured words as pain wracked through its body right before its death. "Bastard, fucking coward, motherfucker will pay, bathe in his blood." Muttered over and over as dead eyes stared into the victim.

News quickly spread that Sunnydale was no longer safe. Not that it had ever been before, but now the Slayer and the Vampire seemed possessed, were working as a team, had become the predators and not the prey. Only the foolish would cross their paths now. And only those with a death wish would make any move towards the dark haired man that accompanied them, that they kept protected at all costs. Even one step in his direction would ensure that all attention would be directed towards the offender. In that case, it was best to pray that the Slayer noticed, for she would simply and efficiently kill whatever had been so unwise.

But if the being was unlucky, then the Vampire would see. Death would be slow in coming. The railroad spike would appear in his hand, pulled from one of those deep, deep pockets in the black leather duster he always wore. He would set to work, causing such pain as had never been dreamed of in all the depths of hell. He would keep at it for hours, his eyes pools of rage and pain, cutting his fury into the flesh of the offender. Then, when he was satisfied that the being could not move, could not harm his consort in any way, he would hand the stake to his lover, watching as the man set to work, a look of pride crossing his face as his lover moved to take over, as he gave quiet instruction, as he heard the howls of rage drop from the man's lips until finally, finally the merciful release of death. Word spread fast. Don't harm the man. He was off-limits, he was the Vampire's and the Slayer's. And his own bloodlust was the equal of both.

---

"No, no, please, no NO NO NO" The screaming began as Xander jerked awake, jumping from the bed, eyes glassy as he felt the hands moving on his body, felt the kicks into his flesh, felt the tearing begin. He backed into the wall, slowly sliding down as his eyes lost focus.

Spike knelt next to him, hands ghosting across Xander's body, careful not to actually touch him, merely seeking to let Xander feel his presence. His heart twisted as he watched Xander's head jerk back as if being slapped, heard the begging spill from Xander's lips, saw the absence in his eyes.

Xander slowly curled into a ball on the floor, shaking as he felt the penetration begin, heard his father's voice echoing in his ears. **You disgrace, should have killed you a long time ago** The words pounding into his mind as he saw the hand rise, saw the gleaming edge of the knife, felt the vicious pain as it slammed into his flesh. He rocked back and forth, trying to calm himself, hearing Spike's voice in his ear.

"Just a dream, just a dream, I'm here, you're safe, it's fine, here, we're home, he's not here, just a dream," the words dropped into his mind, cooling the heat there, rippling through the ocean of hate. "I'm here, don't worry, safe now, safe now."

Slowly, slowly the panting stopped and Xander felt cautious hands reach out to pull him into Spike's lap, his head resting there while strong hands ran down his back, trying to loosen the tight muscles. Xander shuddered once, an automatic reaction to the feel of flesh touching his own. Spike stopped, leaving his hand there but not moving. Swallowing hard, Xander reached an arm around, draping it across Spike's legs, forcing himself back to the present, realising that the touch was his lover's, that he was here with someone who would never, ever hurt him, would never allow him to feel pain again.

Spike resumed his stroking, beginning a low, comforting purr, trying to lull Xander back to sleep. The nightmares were getting worse and worse, and he was becoming increasingly frightened by Xander's inability to sleep. The worst part was that Xander refused to tell him what the nightmares were, refused to speak of them. Spike didn't know if that was good or not. All his studies were contradictory. Some texts recommended forcing the issue while others stated flatly that only harm could come of premature revelations. Spike had decided to strike a middle note, asking each time what the nightmare contained, letting Xander know he could say anything, but not forcing him to do so.

"Sounded bad, luv. What was it?" Spike's voice was low and calm, the stroking never stopping.

Xander swallowed again, then slowly turned over, moving so that he was lying face up in Spike's lap, able to see those beautiful eyes.

"Just, stuff," he shuddered, not willing to discuss how he could still feel his father's hands.

"Sure, pet, you can tell me, you know. I want to know." Again, quiet and calm, no trace of the rage that Spike felt growing in him at the fact that the bastard was still alive.

"Yeah, I know. Don't want to talk about it." Xander slowly pushed himself up to a seated position. Spike stood, reached down and helped Xander to his feet.

"How about some hot chocolate, then? Got marshmallows and everything." Spike ran his hands along Xander's arms, still feeling the faint trembling there.

Xander gave Spike a small smile, knowing full well that this was Spike's ultimate comfort food, the taste of it somehow making Spike content. They headed down the hall to the kitchen, Xander yawning hugely. He was so tired. Over the last three months, his sleep had become more and more fragmented. It seemed the healthier his body became, the more his mind attacked him. He had almost completely recovered, spending his time training with Buffy and Spike. He had quickly gained strength and agility, focusing on learning how to protect himself. He had finally convinced Spike to return to patrol after about a month, knowing that Spike desperately needed the relief of violence. Spike had initially resisted, flatly refusing to leave Xander alone. Xander had pleaded over the space of a week, finally reaching a compromise. Spike would patrol with Xander accompanying him. However, Xander was not allowed to fight and Spike stayed within five feet of him at all times. Xander had readily agreed, and, slowly, Spike had given Xander freer rein, gradually allowing him to fight the smaller fledglings. He still refused to allow Xander out of his sight, however. Not that Xander minded. He didn't feel secure unless they were in each other's presence either.

Spike and Buffy still were furious, still tried to talk him out of his plan for revenge. They wanted immediate gratification, Spike, in particular, growing more and more frustrated with each day that passed that Xander held him back from simply ripping out his father's throat, no matter what the chip did to him. Buffy was barely better, vowing that she would take his father, bring him back to Spike and Xander's house, act as Spike's hands as Spike told her exactly what to do. The only thing holding either of them back was Xander's promise that soon, soon, they would act. No matter how frustrated either of them became, they both understood that it was Xander's right to take revenge.

Xander had focused all his attention on training and learning the various arts of torture that Spike was only too happy to teach him. Their morning discussions were no longer theoretical. Now, Xander took an active part in discussing just how his father would suffer. His mother had managed to bail his father out of jail, how, Xander didn't care. The trial was about four months away, and Xander had begun steeling himself for the testimony he would have to give. Giles, Willow and Tara were working on finding some better way to protect Spike from the sun so that he could accompany Xander to court without having to sneak in under a blanket through a side entrance.

They made their way into the kitchen, Spike continuing to purr softly, seeing that Xander was beginning to relax. He wished Xander would take the sleeping pills he had been prescribed. Xander flatly refused, however, stating that he didn't like the loss of control. Spike knew that Xander needed control above all else, so he had relented.

Spike turned to the refrigerator and reached for the milk while Xander opened the cupboard and removed a small pan. As he turned to place it on the stove, he caught the side of his arm on the corner of the open door, scraping it along the rough edge of the open door. His eyes shot open as the old, familiar sting ripped through his body. **OH SHIT, so good, so good, more, want more** He raised the arm to his mouth, twisting it so that he could lap up the blood. His hands began to shake as the taste ran through his body. He felt the desperate longing suddenly rise to the surface, no longer able to deny want he craved. The desire had been burning in him ever since he regained consciousness in the hospital and every day it was becoming harder and harder to resist that siren call. He stared at the knives on the counter, moving closer and reaching out, blocking out everything but that need.

Spike's head shot around at the sudden scent of blood. **What the hell** He saw Xander with an arm to his mouth, saw his eyes suddenly darken, saw the hands reaching for the knives. With a strangled cry, he wrapped his arms around Xander, yanking him away. This was what he had feared, what he had been waiting and watching for. Too much had happened for Xander not to fall back to this.

"Let go." Xander growled out, unable to focus on anything other than the need.

"No, Xander, please, no, don't. . ." Spike began, as Xander suddenly began to pull against him. Tightening his grip, he fought back the pain that hit as he frantically tried to restrain Xander.

"Fuck you, what do you know, let me go, bastard, fuck you, can't help me, don't understand," the vicious words poured out as Xander fought those strong arms. Turning quickly, he threw Spike across the room.

Panting, he yanked the knife from the block and placed it against his wrist, feeling the cold, cold glint of steel. He closed his eyes and licked his lips, savouring this moment, knowing that peace was nigh.

Suddenly, he realised that the room was quiet, that he could hear no sound from the vampire. He looked down and went perfectly still. Spike lay on the floor, head at a peculiar angle, blood dripping from his mouth. The knife clattered to the floor as Xander's ran over, kneeling at Spike's side.

"Spike, Spike," Xander desperately called out. "Oh shit, Spike," he began to shake Spike, frantically trying to get any response. Nothing. Xander glanced around, realising that Spike's head had struck the edge of the counter.

"Spike, please, I'm sorry, oh fuck, please," Xander keened, his hands roaming over Spike's body. **His neck, I broke his neck**

Spike suddenly let out a groan. "Bloody hell, why did I ever teach you that?" He opened his eyes to see Xander just staring down.

"Spike, can you move, please tell me you can move, can you feel this?" The relief at hearing Spike's voice was fleeting as Xander began to press at Spike's arms and legs.

"Ow, shit, Xander, what are you doing?" Spike yelped out, feeling the pinching all over his body. He pulled himself up, Xander closely following, then leaned against the counter, rubbing the side of his head. "Think you got your strength back there, luv."

Spike shook his head, clearing his thoughts, then suddenly struck out, grabbing Xander's wrists. He flipped Xander's arms over, inspecting the flesh. Nothing, no lines. His eyes narrowed and he stepped closer, inhaling deeply, scenting for the blood. Only the ragged edge from the accidental cut yielded any trace.

Xander stood still, allowing the inspection, head down, shame washing over him. He deserved this, he had broken Spike's trust. He kept his head down, unwilling to meet Spike's gaze.

Spike let out a shaky breath, then pulled Xander over to sit under the window. He had been expecting this, knew it was coming, didn't blame Xander, though he knew Xander would blame himself. He sat down, then settled Xander onto his lap, gently pushing the table aside.

"Luv, I'm fine." No response. He pulled Xander tighter. "Xander, I don't blame you. You've been through a lot, it's only natural that you would need that." He tightened his grip as he felt Xander begin to shake. "Just because I understand doesn't mean that I'm going to stand by and let you, but I won't get mad at you for wanting it." He heard the sudden inhale of breath then felt Xander begin to relax, just a little. He started purring again, knowing this would calm the man in his arms.

Xander stayed there for a few moments, then pulled back, reaching up to feel the rapidly healing bump on Spike's head. "Sorry, just, hit me, you know." He tilted his head, the realisation suddenly striking him. He pulled back, looking deep into Spike's eyes.

"Is this what you feel like, wanting to go after that bastard?" They had long since quit referring to that beast as his father.

Spike stared back, nodding slowly. That was why he couldn't be angry with Xander, this was why he understood the bloodlust. It was all he could do to respect Xander's wishes, all he could do to not just destroy that which had harmed what was his.

Xander's eyes darkened. How could he have not realised the pain he was causing his lover, his friends. Enough, it was enough.

"I'm sorry, I didn't realise." He licked his lips, leaned down and placed a light kiss on Spike's lips. "No more. It's time. I'll call Buffy. Tomorrow night."

Spike just stared back. "Are you sure?" He felt a cruel smile cross his lips. **About bloody time**

"Fuck, yeah." A matching smile on his mate's mouth. They stared at each other, then Spike released Xander, allowing him to stand. He reached over, grabbing the phone from the table.

"Here you go, luv, you call, I'll make the hot chocolate. Want to get to sleep soon," his eyes narrowed, "It'll be a busy night tomorrow."

Xander nodded, hitting the speed dial. He looked at the clock. Just after midnight, Buffy should be home.

"Hello," the quick reply.

"Buffy, it's time."

"When." He heard the rage immediately slam into her voice.

"Tomorrow. Meet me here at noon so we can get set up."

"Fine. About time." Spike nodded, hearing her from over by the stove.

"Yeah, that's what Spike thinks, too. See you at noon. Spike will get the stuff together while we're gone."

"'K."

With that he hung up and moved to sit by lover at the counter, the knife long forgotten as he thought of just how sweet the next night would be. Spike slid over a cup, marshmallows floating on top. They drank quickly, then headed off for bed. Spike was right, they would both need their rest. None of them would be sleeping for the next few days.

---

Willow shot another worried look down the street as Xander fit the key into the lock.

"Are you sure they aren't home?" she asked for the fifth time since they had arrived. She was eager to get started, but, at the same time, a little concerned. What would happen if they were interrupted.

"Yeah, the car's gone, besides, even if they were here, they're too drunk to notice." Xander quickly opened the door, smiling bitterly at the fact that they hadn't even bothered to change the locks. He shrugged, if they were so stupid, they deserved whatever they got.

Buffy and Anya followed Xander, Willow and Tara into the basement, carrying a large trunk between them. Xander looked around, face tightening as the memories struck him. He took a deep breath, concentrating only on the good. **There, right there is where Spike first drank from me** Pretty much every thing was the way he and Spike had left it, the couch still there, a thick layer of dust over everything.

"Where do you want this," Anya called over. "It's getting kind of heavy." Buffy just rolled her eyes at that.

"Just put it down anywhere, doesn't really matter." Xander moved over, opened the trunk and began pulling out the heavy black drapery. Meanwhile, Willow began setting small bowls around the room while Tara took out a small mortar and pestle and began grinding herbs. Buffy and Anya quickly tacked the hangings over the windows, while Xander pulled the table into the centre of the room. He pulled the bolt of black silk out, draped it on the table, habitually spreading a circle into the centre of the fabric, the movements of the ritual coming automatically. He took out the candleholders, set the candles in place, then stepped back. Nodding, he looked around the room, satisfied that all was ready. He watched as Buffy pulled the couch and chair back, replacing the recliner with a tall, high backed chair. She coiled the rope by the legs of the chair, then she, too, stepped back, satisfied. They looked over at Willow and Tara.

"We can begin now, just take a few minutes," Willow said as Tara began sprinkling the mixture into the various bowls. "Why don't you just wait outside."

Anya led the way out the door and they stood there, listening to the soft chanting. A few minutes passed, then Willow and Tara came out the door.

"All finished, no one will be able to hear a thing, he can scream all he wants." Xander had never seen Willow like this, had never seen such a look of hatred curling across her features. He grabbed her in a quick hug, then they left, Anya going with Willow and Tara, Buffy accompanying him.

"What time are we leaving," her hands were twitching, anticipating the blood that was soon to flow.

"The second the sun goes down, you would not believe what I had to do to convince Spike that he couldn't just wait in the back until the bastard comes home." Xander glanced over, feeling the anticipation build.

"I can imagine, no, wait, actually, I don't want to imagine," Buffy said with a small grin. She began to bounce up and down, the tension building. "Do you think Spike will let me help him pack up the stuff?" she asked hopefully.

"Doubt it, probably already done, he was up when I left." Xander smiled at the thought. Spike had followed him to the door, reluctant to let him leave, they had only been apart for a few hours at a time since the attack. However, Xander had planned ahead and had accounted for the half-hour or so that it would take them to say goodbye.

"Ohh, she said disappointed. "Well, well, what are we going to do until we leave?" **Seven hours, only seven hours more**

"Spike's making lunch."

Buffy just raised her eyebrows at that. "What's he making, blood pudding?"

"No, lasagna."

Buffy just shook her head at that. Spike, making lasagna for a Slayer. Her life just got odder by the day.

---

The pounding continued. "I said, just a minute. Fucking idiot." Xander's father bellowed out as he stumbled to the door. "What do you want?" he growled looking down at the small girl he vaguely recognised as one of his bastard son's friends.

His only response was a sharp kick which caught him along the right side of his face, knocking him back into the hallway. Buffy strode in after him with Xander right behind.

"Spike, why don't you come in?" Xander held out his hand as he extended the invitation.

"Happy to, luv."

"What's going on out here?" Xander's mother called as she came around the corner, eyes opening wide when she saw her husband lying motionless on the floor, some woman staring down at him with hate, a white haired man next to her with ever more hate on his face. She looked up to see her son standing in the doorway.

"Hello, mom." The words snapped out with contempt. "Came to pay dear old dad here a visit."

Xander skulked over, grabbing her as she turned to run. "Oh, I don't think so. Think you're going to call the police? You would call the police for him, not for me. Just lovely. No, I don't think so. Besides, I have the feeling that they wouldn't be too quick to come to that thing's rescue." He pulled her over into a chair, Spike right behind him.

"Stupid bint, letting him do to that to your child, well, time to pay the piper, ducks." The voice hissed in her ear as she felt cold, cold fingers press against her throat. "Much as I want to kill you, your precious child there won't let me, so you're just going to have to sleep for awhile." With that, he stepped back, letting Buffy have her turn.

"You bitch." With that, Buffy swung, knocking Xander's mother out cold. They quickly tied her to the chair, then Buffy pressed the cloth over her face.

"Sure that will be enough," Spike asked quietly.

"Yes, Giles said that would knock her out for at least three days."

"Good," Xander's voice rang through the air. "Let's get the bastard downstairs."

"Same way as last time, pet?" Spike walked over, ready to help, eager to feel that flesh beneath his hands. The pain was bearable, there, but bearable.

"You bet." With that, Xander grabbed his father's feet and began dragging him down the basement stairs, once again making sure that he rammed his father's head into any and every thing he could find.

Spike followed, ready to help should Xander show any signs of being tired. Buffy grabbed the small duffel bag Spike had dropped to the floor, closed the front door and followed them down the stairs.

---

Xander's father's eyes slowly opened, taking in the odd vision before him. He was tied to a chair, in some room. A low murmur reached his ears, some stupid song. The room was shrouded in black, a table in front of him covered in black silk, two candles on it, a lockbox in the centre. He shook his head, confused. He looked up, only to find himself staring into three cruel, cruel faces.

"Oh, look, he's finally awake." The girl's voice, mocking and cold.

"Finally, thought we were going to have to do something drastic," the words in a British drawl, even crueller if possible.

"No, that's for later." His bastard son's voice.

"What the fuck is this, what the hell do you think you're doing, you fucking faggot."

He heard a sharp intake of breath, then his head snapped back as the blonde viciously slapped him.

"You don't get to speak. Not to Xander, not now, not ever again. You asshole, if I didn't plan on hearing you scream I would just cut your tongue out right now." Buffy stood there, fists clenched visibly trying to keep from lashing out.

Xander reached over, pulling her away. "Maybe later."

Xander leaned down, staring his father in the eye. "Did you really think you would get away with it, did you really think that I wouldn't get my revenge? You must be stupider than I ever thought. You know, you were right, one of us is a disgrace, one of us should have been killed a long time ago. Just not me." He leaned back up, reaching out to take Spike's hand.

"I don't think you were ever properly introduced. This is William, my lover. My partner. My mate. He's also known as Spike. Do you know how he got the name Spike?" Xander paused, wrapping his arms around Spike's waist, leaning his head on Spike's shoulder.

Xander's father just glared back, disgust in his eyes. He opened his mouth, but never got to speak. Buffy reached out, hand moving quicker than he could see, grasping his tongue.

"I thought I told you not to speak." Her voice was low and calm, but her fingers never let go. The bastard's eyes began to water as the pain rolled through him. She tugged a little harder. "Please, Xan, it'll be fun."

"No, later, I said I wanted to hear him scream."

Reluctantly, Buffy let go, running an edge of her fingernail across the top of his tongue, the blood beginning to drip down. "Hope you learned your lesson," she whispered in his ear as she moved away.

"As I was saying," Xander resumed, running a hand through Spike's hair, "Do you know how Spike got his name? No, didn't think so. You see, Spike is infamous for torturing people with railroad spikes, rusty railroad spikes at that, so, he started to go by Spike."

Xander leaned up, placing a quick kiss on his lover's cheek, seeing those blue eyes burn into the bastard's, holding him trapped in his gaze. "Oh, yes, one more thing, did I happen to mention, he's also a vampire."

At that, Spike morphed into gameface, relishing the fear that suddenly radiated from the sack of shit in the chair before him. He leaned down, grasping Xander's hand as the pain began to build, snarling, fully exposing his fangs.

"Right, mate. A vampire. We are real you know. And you touched what's mine. The penalty for that is death."

Xander's father began to shake, squeezing his eyes shut. It was a nightmare, not real, not real. His eyes shot back open as he felt another kick, this one to his ribs, this one harder then before. He felt the snap as they broke, heard the sick, sick noise.

Xander caught Spike as he fell, dragging him behind his father. There was no way that he was going to let his father see just how much it hurt Spike to exact his revenge. Spike lay on the floor, shaking, then nodded slightly, biting down hard on the towel that Xander had placed in his mouth to muffle his cries.

Buffy had moved to take Spike's place in front of Xander's father, luxuriating in the whimpers now coming from the man. "Oh, you think that hurt, that's nothing, nothing compared to what's coming." With that she again pulled his mouth open, pouring salt over the cut on his tongue. He began to scream as the agony hit. Louder and louder, knowing someone would come. Buffy just laughed, leaning in closer. "Scream all you want, no one will hear. You see, there's so much that you never bothered to learn about Xander's friends. Like the fact that his partner is a vampire. Like the fact that I'm a vampire slayer. Like the fact that Willow is a witch. We made sure that no one will hear you scream, you just go right ahead. Music to my ears." With that, she hit him again, throwing all her strength behind it, hearing the snapping of his jaw.

Xander moved back around to face his father, seeing the blood drip down, hearing the moans and whimpers coming from the bastard.

"You're probably wondering what all this is for," Xander cast his hand around the room. "Well, when I told Buffy and Spike that they couldn't just make you eat your heart, I had to give them a better idea. You see, I found a way to help ease the pain from all the times you raped me." Xander never took his eyes from his father's face, watching as his words beat into him. "I used to cut myself. Over and over and over again. Sometimes not for months. Sometimes several times a day. What you see now is how I used to best deal with the pain, the ritual I used to perform." Xander leaned in closer, grabbing his father's jaw, hearing the scream as he crushed the broken bones together. "The last time I did this was the night after you raped me a week after Anya left. I went a little too far, cut my left arm open. Almost died. Spike found me, saved my life. I want you to think about that, a demon without a soul cared for me more than you did. What does that make you?'

Spike slowed came around, moving to stand next to the table, reaching into the pocket of his duster and pulling out a key. He handed it to Xander, who nodded a quick thanks.

"So, after you tried to kill me, after you stabbed me then raped me, when all they wanted to do was kill you and let me drink your blood, I told them no. You see, that was too simple, the easy way out. Then, you would be dead and it would be over. You wouldn't have to have nightmares almost every night, you wouldn't have to flinch whenever someone touched you from behind, you wouldn't try to hurt the person you love when they try to stop you from hurting yourself. No, you would be dead. And no one would know what you had done. This way is much better."

Turning his back to the howling man before him, Xander walked to the table. He reached down, unlocking the lockbox, pulling out the box with his knife. Buffy moved over, joining Spike on either side as Xander slowly opened the box, slowly ran his finger across the blade, longing visible in his face. He slowly smiled, and the three of them turned back around.

"I'm going to do to you everything I did to myself. Then Buffy is going to have a chance to beat you like you beat me. Then Spike, well, Spike is going to teach you just how he got his name. But we aren't going to kill you. No, you're going to live. Then you're going to trial. And I'm going to tell the world just what a sick fuck you are. Do you know what happens to rapists in jail, do you? Do you know what happens to rapists who rape their own sons, do you? It's going to make this seem like heaven."

With that, Xander reached down, looking straight into his father's eyes. "And if you ever breathe a word of this to anyone, then I will let them do what they want. Nothing will be able to stop them."

"You bastard," the words spilled out from blood drenched lips.

Buffy slapped his father, making sure to hit on exactly the site of the break. "Scream all you want, but I told you, no speaking. You will never speak to him again."

Spike merely leaned down, pulling off the bastard's shoes, then removing his socks. He reached out, yellow flickering in his eyes, hands shaking from the pain shooting through his mind, but able to control it. He and Buffy had spent hours doing this, Buffy standing still while Spike hit her or tried to hit her, building up his tolerance for the pain. He pulled a knife from his boots, cutting the clothes off, until the bastard was sitting there, naked.

Xander turned, picking up the piece of glass that was lying on the table, reluctantly putting down the knife. "I was fourteen when I first learned how good it felt. You beat me, raped me, left me for dead. Crawled through broken glass, felt the sting. It was so pure. Let's see what you think." With that, he grabbed his father's right forearm, dragging the sharp edge up the arm, mouth opening when he saw the blood begin to flow. His father began to squirm in the chair, muffled cries coming out from his rapidly swelling face. "Oh, you like that, do you?" Xander continued to carve, adding another line next to the first, careful to not press too deeply. He didn't want to cause scarring, saving that for later.

"Glass is good, when you can get it, but sometimes you have to take what you can find." Xander put the glass back on the table, this