Chapter 11: Promise

Chapter 11: Promise

Spike flew, the motorcycle like solid thunder between his thighs, the sea-salt air slicing around him, cold and heavy. He'd stolen a CD player and headphones and was blasting Buzzcocks straight into his skull. He roared the words along with Shelley, swooping the bike from lane to lane. It was almost three a.m., and the traffic was light. Spike grinned. Home. He was going home. Xander was there, waiting for him *Please be there love. Had to do this. Had to get out, get back into my game...collect a debt. Please be there* and he was eager to arrive. He gunned the bike faster still, demon's eyes behind wrap-around shades easily seeing the route.

"I used to only want but now I need
To get by with what I got but now I need
I need
I used to only want but now I need
I need sex ... I need love
I need drink ... I need drugs
I need food ... I need cash
I need you to love me back"

He'd finished up in Oxnard late Thursday night. Then he'd driven south, down to LA, in search of replacements for his trademark railroad spikes. Going out of his range seemed the smart thing to do. He didn't want anyone linking him to anything. At least, not yet. He'd driven into LA in the pale lemon light of almost-dawn and holed up in a cheap motel, putting his last postcard in the mailbox on the corner. *Hope he liked those. Kinda...poufy. But I had to let him know I was still alive somehow* Then he'd slept, and dreamed of Xander - called his name so loud he'd woken himself. It was only mid-afternoon, but sleep had been elusive and he'd ended up watching TV until the sun went down. He'd stared at the phone and thought about calling Xander - had been thinking about it every hour, every day. But he'd had work to do - something that had to be done, even if the need was only in his mind. A spot of revenge on four men who'd touched *mine* Xander and hurt him. He didn't want to talk to Xander about it on the phone. Time enough for talk later. If Xander would listen. That night in L.A. he'd gone out, leaving his duster behind, finding an easy meal in a dark corner of a club *oh, the blood, makes me whole, makes me...* He'd taken the bright white shirt the food had been wearing. Then he'd gone into one of those rich-folk home improvement places. *And why in hell is this place open at ten o'clock at night?* Surprisingly, there had been spikes there - about half the size of real railroad spikes, but solid and deadly all the same. Spike had looked them over, but then decided on something…newer. Eight inch long galvanized steel, as big around as his index finger. And twisted. Spiral nails, the box said. Love at first sight. Spike got two dozen and walked jauntily outside, ignoring the alarm as he exited the store, and knocking aside with a casual backhand the security guard who came running. He made his way back to the bike, shedding the stolen shirt *not much of a disguise but better than a long leather coat in this weather* getting his duster and hitting the road. Pushed the bike up to top speed and just gone, leaving the lights of LA behind, leaving Oxnard behind, feeling the subtle, warping aura of the Hellmouth stretch out and pull him in. *Going home, going home. Can't wait to feel my boy around me, on me, beneath me...heat and sweat and sawdust smell, sweet and musk* He undulated on the saddle of the bike, the vibration sending delicious tingles through his groin and belly - making his hard-on even harder.

"I need ... I need ... I need ... I need
The things I used to crave for now I need
Have made me just a slave for what I need
I need
Yes I am just a slave for what I need"

When the Welcome to Sunnydale sign came into view, Spike considered running the bike into it but decided that arriving home with cuts and broken bones would probably not make for a very fun homecoming. He ditched the bike near the ruins of the old high school and walked the rest of the way. He was back. He was once again the Big Bad, and the vamps and demons of Sunnydale would soon know it. And so would the soldiers. Whether they knew it was him or not, he was going to make his presence felt.

As he got closer to home, he walked slower and slower, thinking. He wanted - more than anything - to find the Slayer and her Watcher, and slowly repay them both for the humiliations he had endured at their hands. But... *Xander will hate that. He's not happy with them, but they're still his

mates... Bloody hell. Not gonna endure any shite from the Slayer. Hope Xander can talk to her, 'cause I might just have to... Fuck.* He stopped altogether, looking down the street to the cul-de-sac and *home, home* He pulled a cigarette out and lit it, then resumed his walk, even slower then before. He was going to get the soldiers - the doctors - anyone he could find that had been a part of the Initiative. And he wasn't going to show them any mercy whatsoever. Xander knew that. But... The Judge had been right, when he'd said he and Dru had 'stunk of humanity'. They had - he had, and still did - always would. It was that soul Xander could see - William the Poet still looking out of William the Bloody's eyes from time to time. Spike had never seen a reason to give up his passions - his obsessions. Had seen no reason not to love and live exactly as his mind, his will *and soul, apparently* dictated. Somehow, knowing the soul was there - that the human part was real *not just something Dru passed on - madness from her blood to mine. Always thought that's what it was, that so-familiar voice…* it gave him...permission. To love Xander like he did, hopelessly and completely. It gave him permission to - make exceptions. To act as other vampires would not - very possibly could not. He'd always done that - always been an aberration that Darla, Angelus - the Master - could barely abide. Dru had the Sight - she was allowed her strangeness, because her talent was real, and useful. And because Angelus' cruelly deft hand had made her so. But his strangeness...had only pissed the Family off. And he'd wrapped it around himself like armor and used it like a sword and a wedge and a bludgeon, even. Anything to maintain himself. The demon had given him the means - speed and strength, immortality and amorality - to do anything, be anything. And he'd warped the demon to his will and fought its rage and its mindlessness to a standstill. He used it - and never again would he be that beaten, heartsick, stumbling fool of a boy. It was true, what he'd told Xander - nothing and no one owned him, not even the demon. And for Xander he would do... *Anything. Everything. I'll give him this because I CAN. Me. Spike. Who backs away from nothing, and bows down to no one. Ever again. My lovely boy saw to that* It wasn't some blood-borne madness that made him like this. It was himself. And that had a very deep and satisfying feel to it. He was...better...then he ever thought he could be - and beneath no one, at all.

No, he wouldn't kill them, and Xander would believe it was love and the soul and that Spike was really a good guy, down deep. Spike would know he wasn't good at all, but that he could make exceptions to every rule, and be what he chose to be. And right now and forever, he chose to be the vampire that Xander loved.

He finished his smoke and tossed the butt away, then went silently up the steps to the door, hoping to find it open and not chained and locked as was Xander's usual habit. The knob turned easily under his hand, and he slipped inside. The wolf was there, sprawled on the couch, and Oz lifted his muzzle, eyes glittering, and made a tiny sound, a sort of interrogatory whine that made Spike grin.

"Wolfling. Better close your ears, mate," Spike whispered. He took his Docs off and left them by the door, shed his duster to the couch-back and ghosted through the house to the bedroom, undoing his belt. He stood in the doorway for a moment, only watching, drinking in the sight of *my own, my boy* Xander was curled in the center of the bed, a pillow bunched to his chest, a book laying face-down on the other pillow, fat candle half-burned on the night table. In the golden light he glowed; sable hair as sleek as a mink, with glints of red and gold in it. His dark eyes were shuttered behind thick lashes, his lush, mobile mouth open very slightly. His skin looked like the softest tanned suede, and Spike itched to touch it, re-learn it; taste and smell and have every inch of it. He took his clothing off silently, dropping them where he stood, and moved to the side of the bed. He could smell Xander; the honeyed warmth of him, salt and sweet, clean wood and a little clean sweat, the citrus soap from the shower. Spike shivered all over; scenting him, achingly hard, his thighs trembling with want and his breath coming in little pants. He slipped into the bed - into the laval heat from Xander's body, the scent of *love mine safety home home*

Xander was dreaming. In his dream, he was running with Willow, heading for the Bronze. Inside was a confusion of bodies - screaming, darting figures in the dim light. And then Jesse was there, and then they were face to face, and then the jolt of the stake, going in, and not Jesse's face now - Spike's face - dissolving, flying apart, ribboning down in scarves of ash and dust. In his dream, Spike screamed as he died, and Xander screamed as well, a choking cry - NO! And woke shivering all over, panting, his heart pounding fit to burst. And cool, cool arms, holding him tight, cool hands stroking over his chest, lips against his ear and a voice, purring out words of comfort, words of love. *SPIKE? Can't be...still dreaming...am I? Fuck, don't want this to be a dream...* Xander opened his eyes - took a long, long breath, and it was there; the scent of him - leather and smoke, the cool spices of his hair, his sex, his unliving, demonic flesh. Flesh that Xander wanted to taste, to touch...to crawl inside. He pushed back against the chilled hardness of chest and belly and cock and thighs, and a sound escaped him, a low moan of want. He fought to turn, to see, and the arms loosened, helping him, and Spike was there, just there; fathomless eyes and ink-slash of eyebrows, the face of a cathedral angel and the wickedly smiling mouth of Lucifer himself. *Home, he's home, he's here…*

"Ssss..." Xander tried to say Spike's name and couldn't - found his teeth were chattering so hard he could barely make a sound at all.

"Xander, love...you all right?" Spike's voice was honey, was a growl of pure arousal, and Xander shuddered, clenching his jaw, trying to get control. Spike's hair was tousled and waved over his head, and one lock fell forward, curling beside the scar, beside ridiculously girlish lashes.

"S-ss- Spike!"

"Yes love..." That smile - that smile of pure want, and oh fuck... Xander moved, faster then he thought possible. He took Spike's face in his hands and kissed him. Kissed him as hard and long and as deeply as he could; shaking, seeking out every inch of the cool, wet flesh - bruising the lips beneath his and sucking greedily on the flickering tongue. Arousal coursing through him in waves, hot and cold. He finally had to pull away, gasping, and Spike's lips were swollen and gleaming, his eyes nearly black. Xander ran his fingers back through Spike's hair, down his neck to shoulders and back. Spike moved then, rolling Xander beneath him and kissing him back, just as hard, as desperate. His cock was hard and slick with pre-come, rubbing over Xander's own erection, and Xander thrust up against him, fighting to get his legs free, to wrap them around Spike's hips and cling with his arms, nails digging into the satin flesh. They were both moaning now, panting, and Xander wanted...

"Spike - need you love - need you now...in me... Spike...want you to fuck me...have me... Spike, Spike, love..." His own voice was gasping and hoarse with desire, his words coming out between kisses and bites and licks from the mouth of the vampire.

"Yesss," Spike hissed, grinding into him, biting along his jaw, his throat. Xander arched upwards hard and cried out when Spike's teeth grazed the near-invisible mark he'd made a week ago. He was trembling on the edge - had never felt so needy, so wanton. He spread his legs as far as they would go, urging Spike to do something, do anything.

"Wait love, hav'ta get...somethin'..." Spike lunged for the side table, fumbling in the drawer, and Xander licked his tongue over Spike's nipples, rough rasps like cat, tasting the silken flesh, biting so that Spike gasped aloud. Then Spike was moving, kneeling up, and Xander reached down to stroke the jutting hardness of the vampire's cock, bringing a slicked finger up to his mouth and sucking off the savory fluid that was smeared there. Spike hovered over him, his eyes gone gleaming gold.

"Hurry Spike - just do it, I want you, want you in me..."

"Won't hurt you, love, wait, wait..." Spike smeared lube on his fingers and wormed them into tight, grasping flesh. Xander felt the fire building impossibly fast in his balls - his belly. He grasped Spike's biceps, urging him forward, arching upwards, unable to keep himself still. Spike was panting now, eyes fixed on Xander.

"Oh fuck, Xander...so hot..." Spike moaned. When Spike thrust a third finger into him - twisting, rubbing, the orgasm that rolled over Xander was like a wave of lightning. A rush of tingling sparks surged the length of Xander's body, and he cried out, hands tightening convulsively on Spike's arms, hard enough to bruise. Spike leaned down and fastened his mouth on Xander's cock, sucking the last of the creamy fluid from him, licking it from where it had spattered on belly and chest. Xander lay panting, writhing, still impaled on the caressing fingers, and he groaned when Spike withdrew.

"Xander...so sweet, so fuckin' perfect..." Spike pressed forward, twisting his hips and sinking into Xander, one long glide, his head thrown back and his mouth open in a soundless cry. Xander shuddered, already growing hard again, and he pulled Spike down to him, his thighs against Spike's ribs, his calves on the trembling shoulders. He wanted Spike as deep, as close as he could possibly get him, and Spike began to thrust into him hard, rubbing over and over that one place, making Xander gasp aloud. *Oh fuck, want...want more...oh good, so good...closer love, deeper love, more...* Xander wasn't aware he was chanting aloud, his voice a whispered rasp. Spike dipped down and pushed at Xander's thighs with his arms, pounding into him, and Xander bit at the vampire's mouth, his lips - threw his head back suddenly, stretching his throat out, pulling Spike closer and the demon snarled. Spike bent to the arched column of flesh, snuffling over it, tasting. Without warning he sank his fangs deep into the muscle at the top of Xander's shoulder - a harder, more savage bite then he'd ever given. Xander screamed aloud, his body dissolving into a frenzy of desperate thrusts and Spike's did the same, pounding flesh and bone hard enough to bruise. Xander sank his nails into Spike's back, clawing him closer... *need need oh fuck I neeeed!* He snaked his head around, pure instinct, and sank his own, blunter teeth into Spike's neck, as hard as he could, tearing flesh and feeling the sudden tingle on his lips and tongue as the vampire's blood ran into his mouth. It was like an electric current had suddenly opened between them - mouth to cock to mouth - incandescent and pure. Spike arched hard into him, whipping his own head away from Xander's body, roaring into the spangled darkness. Xander could feel Spike's orgasm, the shuddering spasms of it pumping cool semen into him and his own body did the same, pouring out his ecstasy between them. Spike collapsed onto him, panting, and Xander wrapped trembling legs around his waist, arms around his neck, pulling him close and closer, unwilling to let even a millimeter of air come between them. He kissed Spike, all over his face, darting little kisses between gasps for air, little licks of his tongue to gather the taste of the vampire to him, his hands ceaselessly roving over and over the arched back, the perfect curve of buttock.

"Spike, you're home, you're here, you bastard, don't you ever do that to me again, Spike...

Spike..." Xander whispered to him, and his whole body felt...new. Felt as if he'd just wakened from a long and restful sleep and the tingly, drowsy feeling was peace and satiation, and comfort. Spike was licking the bite now, cleaning away all traces of blood, sending little sparks of pleasure along Xander's spine, down into his belly.

"Xanderrr," he purred, licking, kissing, and Xander ran his hands up over Spike's shoulders and throat to his head - pushed his fingers back through Spike's hair and then jerked the vampire's head up, glaring into startled lapis eyes.

"Don't you fuckin' dare ever do that - I thought you were dead for three days! Or back in the damn Initiative!" Xander gave the vampire's head a little shake, feeling tears welling. He blinked them back, pulled Spike down to kiss him again, biting Spike's lower lip so that the vampire hissed in startlement. Xander licked at the welling of scarlet blood there, feeling it sizzle through his mouth like champagne.

"You don't ever, ever just leave, Spike. Ever. I can't do that. I can't stand that." Spike's eyes were golden in the candle-light, glimmering, and he ducked his head down into Xander's neck and nuzzled there for a moment.

"You - didn't you get the postcards, love?" He asked finally, and Xander felt a reluctant chuckle bubble up from inside.

"Yeah, I got 'em. They were...I loved them." Spike smiled, and Xander swept his hands down Spike's back to his buttocks and squeezed hard, pinching.

"Oi!"

"Doesn't make up for it. Doesn't make up for it one bit. " Xander managed to flex his hips a little, pushing up against Spike, and he sighed a breathy ohhh when he felt the vampire move, still hard inside him.

"I'll make up for it," Spike murmured, kissing him - neck and shoulders, cheeks and chin and nose, delicate licks at his mouth, his long fingers tucking into the hair behind Xander's ears, curving around his skull and holding him close. "I'll make up for it all night, love, all day tomorrow...not gonna let you out of bed...not gonna let you be empty for one minute, love...my love...mine..."

"Yours, all yours..." Xander sighed into the smoke and spice of his mouth, the cool damask of his skin. He was becoming hard again himself, something he hadn't thought possible after the intensity of the orgasms he'd just had. Spike continued to kiss, sweet and slow, his body barely moving. Xander undulated beneath him, using internal muscles to massage the hard length inside him. He couldn't stop his hands from going over and over Spike's body, tracing out ribs and shoulder blades, bicep, triceps, the hollow of his collarbones and the ridge of spine. His thighs ached and trembled, locked around Spike's waist, but he wouldn't let go. Spike licked again and again at the marks on Xander's neck, and Xander couldn't help gasping each time he did it.

"Ohhh...fuck...why does it - why does it feel like that? Why is that so fuckin' sexy?"

"Just is, love. How it is, when a vampire bites a human. Why d'ya think people pay vampires to bite 'em?"

"What? People do that?" Spike moved his hips a little faster, hissing, and Xander closed his eyes, reveling in the sensations; the pull and thrust and weight of Spike in him and over him, his scent and the texture of his skin.

"You feel - me, in you. When I do this." Tongue on the bite, rasping, and Xander shuddered. And he could feel - could feel something else, something besides the physical. Could feel pleasure. Want. Fierce joy. Predatory desire that would have and never let go. Tenderness. Xander looked up, into Spikes' gaze, and saw those same things there, in his eyes. Saw Spikes' love laid out for him, raw and so hungry...

"That's you? Spike, I can feel...what you feel, for me..."

"Yeah? That's brilliant, pet. It works, then. This is how I feel for you, this..." And Spike dropped his head again to the mark, his hips thrusting faster now, his hands pulling Xander closer. When he came it was with a sound like a sob, and Xander arched into him and came as well, reveling in those pulses of raw emotion that seemed to flow straight from Spikes' heart into him. They lay gasping, and Xander finally had to let his legs fall, almost painfully stretching them out on either side of Spikes' hips, letting his feet tangle with the vampire's.

"Do you feel - what's it like, when I do this?" Xander asked, and mouthed his own bite-mark on Spikes' shoulder. Spike hugged him tight, then lifted his head to look at Xander again, smiling.

"Feels like - like you just put your hand in me and petted me...feels like you took my cock in your mouth...like you kissed me. Feels good, love..."

"Can you...can you feel this?" Xander thought at Spike - thought of the past week and how empty he'd felt - how alone. How he felt now - alive again, complete. How much he loved Spike - how beautiful he was. Spike closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, they were wide and shocked.

"Didn't think you could - love me so much. You love me that much, Xander?" Spike's voice had dropped to a rough whisper, and his gaze was fearful and amazed all at once - and desperate. Wanting so much. Xander felt that fear, fluttering along the edges of his mind. Spike's fear, that somehow this was all...temporary. Superficial. Xander traced Spike's cool lips with his fingers - gently kissed him - no pressure, just a sighing touch.

"Love you that much. That much..." He kissed him again, a little harder, and Spike responded eagerly, sinking his tongue into Xander's mouth, teasing it along tooth-edges and the sensitive roof, fluttering his tongue over and around Xander's like a cool, pink moth. Xander groaned, and pushed a little with his heels, but he couldn't get his legs to come up again.

"Want more, Spike, but I think I'm gonna need to - get my second wind, here." Spike ducked to nibble Xander's lower lip and smirked up at him.

"Poor human. All shagged out already?" Xander pinched a taut buttock and Spike bucked into him a little, laughing.

"Just have to put up with it, Spike. M'all...tingly and...heavy. Mmmm..." Xander pulled him close, to kiss and caress. Slowly, so slowly, they both drifted into sleep.

The candle hissed and sputtered, and in the kitchen Oz turned on the radio, searching for something soft. He settled to a snack of cold store-bought chicken and a woman's voice and smooth guitar, spiraling out into the warm, sea-scented air.

"...But night is the cathedral where we recognized the sign...

We strangers know each other now, as part of a whole design...

Oh hold me like a baby, that will not fall asleep...

Curl me up inside you and let me hear you through the heat... "

 

 

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Buzzcocks - I Need

Suzanne Vega - Gypsy