Credence Chapter 11
Sometime before noon Spike woke and watched through half-slitted eyes as Oz sat up and reached with a shaking hand to the small box on the coffee table. Pushed up his sleeve and laboriously wound a length of rubber tubing around his bicep - uncapped the thin syringe that lay waiting. Then he slid the needle into the vein, and pushed the morphine in after. As Spike watched the shaking faded away and Oz clumsily got syringe and tubing back into the box then wormed his way into the corner of the couch, out before he'd taken five breaths. Spike snugged the blanket up around the werewolf and turned over.
Xander had slid sideways and was curled on the floor, his back pressed into the couch, his hair over his eyes. Spike watched him for a minute - watched him twitch, watched his hand claw at the rug. Then he was still again and Spike closed his eyes, settling into sleep once more.
The next time he woke it was with a jolt, his breath panting in and out. Soft cries - moans - and he jerked upright, looking at Oz. The werewolf slept on, still drugged, almost unmoving. Blearily he looked over the side of the couch and straight into the hyena's eyes. The boy's lips were drawn back in a snarl, and he surged upward, growling, his head connecting solidly with Spike's mouth. Spike yelled in surprise, feeling his lips split and his teeth cut deep on the inside. Then Xander was struggling up and away.
*BLOODY hell, that fuckin' HURT. What the fuck is he doing?* "Rabbit -" Spike growled, lunging after him but Xander scrabbled away, not quite able to get to his feet but plunging and falling and kicking, heading for - for Spike's bed, it seemed, or the bookshelves there - something. Spike slithered to the floor, cursing.
He watched Xander careen across the floor, his bare feet skidding on the rugs that were scattered around, his body pumping fear fear fear with every heartbeat. He crashed into the far wall and spun around, at bay, half crouched and blood on his face now where the rough brick had torn it. On his face, on his knuckles, and his eyes wide and green-glowing, utterly lost.
"Xander..." Spike licked his lips, lapping at the blood, then straightened and walked slowly towards him and Xander saw him, maybe, or maybe didn't. It was hard to say.
"Get the fuck off me, get away from me - I won't, bastards, murdering bastards -" Xander lunged, snarling, thudding solidly into Spike's chest and Spike wrapped his arms around him and squeezed, trying to still him. Xander thrashed, clawing and kicking - snaked his head forward and bit, sinking his blunt teeth through the sweater and into the top of Spike's shoulder, tearing flesh as he tried to get away and Spike roared. He got his hands between them and pushed Xander away hard, the human's teeth tearing out through his flesh, sending a bolt of hot agony all through him. Xander crashed to the floor, spitting out sweater and maybe some Spike and immediately he was crouching, moving - snagging an axe that Spike had left propped against a bookshelf and swinging it in wild, vicious arcs.
"Won't, you fucks, you miserable - don't care if you die, don't care if I - back off!" He stood still finally, his legs braced wide and his chest heaving, sweat and blood and possibly tears on his face, running down. Fear-scent thick and rank, rage and misery and the musk of the other like sweetest honey. He was looking around him - looking with wide, green eyes and Spike watched him, waiting. Darted in when he blinked and wobbled, just a little, and snatched the axe away - sent it spinning across the floor to slide half under the couch. Xander snarled again, drawing back, and Spike backhanded him.
He went down in a heap, graceless and hard and Spike crouched over him, blood trailing down his chest and arm under the torn sweater, blood filling his mouth. Xander just lay there awkwardly, half on his front, his face pressed into a small wool rug, his hands uselessly opening and closing. He gasped for air - panted and coughed and then he was crying. Nearly silent, shaking hard, only his labored, choked breathing making any sound. Spike watched him.
*Fuckin' nightmare. Guess we've all got 'em. But damn, he can hit HARD, when he wants. Wonder if he's awake yet? Poor little rabbit. Have to wear him out, before he goes to sleep next time.* Spike reached out slowly and pushed Xander's hair back off his face.
"You in there, rabbit? Hey, you awake?" Xander flinched sharply away - pushed himself halfway upright and then froze, staring. He blinked - sniffed - and the hyena retreated, leaving the boy shivering. He lifted his arm and wiped his face - winced when the sleeve dragged over the bleeding scrapes he'd gotten on his cheekbone and jaw.
"What... "he said, dazed monotone, and then blinked again - lifted his head. "Spike...?"
"That's right, pet. Spike. You awake now?"
"I wasn't -" Xander stopped and sniffed again - pushed himself up a little further so he was sitting on his butt, knees bent up. "There was... Why are you bleeding?" Spike licked his lips again - swallowed the blood in his mouth and shrugged a little, wincing.
"You hit me. Bit me, for fuck's sake. You always dream like that?"
"Only when I torture a total s-stranger to death." Xander ran his hands back through his hair, grimacing, and then locked his right hand around his left wrist, elbows around his knees. "Is Oz okay?"
"Wolf is fine. He had a shot." Spike reached out and touched the welling blood on Xander's cheek - brought his fingertips to his mouth and sucked the blood off. Fear, pain, hate, sorrow. Like arsenic and sugar and Spike felt a little shiver of anticipation go over him. He lifted his head, flaring his nostrils and sniffing.
"You stink, pet. Need a shower." He stood up and held out his hand and after a moment Xander took it - was lifted to his feet and stood there, getting his bearings. Spike stepped up close, letting his hand slide down and around to Xander's back - creeping up under the t-shirt and hoodie to stroke the hot, sweat-slick flesh. Xander's skin shivered, like a horse throwing off a fly but he didn't move away, just rubbed at his eyes, smearing the last of the tears off his cheeks. Spike let his other hand drop to the top of Xander's thigh, kneading the tense muscles through the loose sweatpants.
"You didn't mind the torture before, rabbit," Spike said, and Xander looked at him, drawing back slightly.
"That wasn't me," he said softly, and Spike raised an eyebrow, smirking.
"Course it was, rabbit. Was all you." Xander shook his head, stepping away and Spike followed, his arm going around Xander's waist now, and curling into his inner thigh, stopping him.
"It was the hyena. It...wants that. Wants blood..."
"So do you, sweet," Spike murmured, nuzzling into the fragrant heat of Xander's neck - rubbing his face in the silky hair, feeling Xander's thigh trembling under his hand.
"No -" Xander whispered, and jerked hard - tried to twist away, his hands pushing at Spike's chest but Spike held him easily. His right hand was around Xander's ribs now, and he slid the left one higher, sinking his fingers into the warm space between groin and thigh, feeling the tendon there that quivered with strain, and the weight of Xander's scrotum, brushing against the back of his hand.
"You let the hyena back out, pet. You took the chains off and let it free. You wanted it back - wanted it all back. No thoughts, no remorse, no guilt." Spike moved teeth and tongue and lips along the line of Xander's jaw - up to his mouth and flicked his tongue along Xander's lips. He could feel the boy's breath, panting out in little gasps and he wound himself around the boy, chest to chest and groin to groin and Xander was hard, was shivering and his hands were on Spike's hips, light as leaves. Spike groaned softly down in his chest and kissed him, long and deep, tasting traces of juice and blood, tasting honey-sweet and bitter.
*Tastes good. Little rabbit, you're so close...* Xander was kissing him back - was letting his hands clutch at Spike's hips and run up under the sweater, skittering over his back. And then he pushed away, backing away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand and staring at Spike with eyes black and empty as a dry well.
"I let it out but... I didn't want..." He shook his head and took a step away from Spike and then another and Spike followed, padding after him. "Look, I wanted...family. I wanted that. But - nobody was - the hyena didn't want any of them. Didn't want W-willow or Giles or Tara...didn't want Riley or even Buffy, anymore. Nobody was pack and -" He stopped again, rubbing his hand tentatively over his face and wincing - turning and going distractedly towards the bathroom. Spike walked right behind him, his fingers on Xander's back and Xander glanced over his shoulder, flicker of the other there and then gone.
"Poor little rabbit - all alone. That's too bad." Xander stopped at the doorway to the bathroom and turned around, leaning on the door. Hyena definitely there in the narrowed eyes and lift of lip.
"I'm not. Oz is pack. He's - we're a pack. That's why -" Spike put both hands on the door and leaned over the boy, letting the demon out so he could snuffle over the hair and skin - suck up blood and sweat and musk smell through his mouth so that it soaked into him, thick enough to taste. And there was something there...something...
"Why, pet!" Spike said, eyes going wide, grinning in malicious delight. "We're pack too, aren't we?" Xander looked away, shaking his head, his mouth coming open but no sound coming out and Spike closed his eyes and scented again, letting the demon sift through the complicated signals that chemistry was sending out. The senses that could track blood over miles and days, that could separate from a crowd the vampire that made you and the other vampires that that one had made, picked apart the rage and the longing and the lust - the loneliness and the need and it was a heady, heady brew. Submission was there, complicated by the human's stubbornness and the hyena's confusion at a demon so different from itself. There was push and pull, yes and no, all wrapped up in desire and desperation and Spike leaned into the boy and rubbed his face along the human one - rubbed through the blood and the sweat and the drying tears like a cat will. Xander twisted under him, pushing at him and growling just a little and Spike opened his eyes.
"Don't fight me, rabbit. You feel it. It's right there in you - right in your belly and your cock and your head. Can't fight me and win, ever. 'Cause you want to be mine - want to be part of my...pack."
Xander stared at him, the mad glare of the cornered animal and when he spoke it was with an effort, the hyena struggling with the words the human ground out.
"Got Oz. Don't need -"
"You do need. I can smell it on you, rabbit - smells so good..." An inarticulate sound of rage and Xander was slamming both hands into Spike's chest, knocking him back, fists pounding into him and Spike snarled into Xander's face - lunged at him and backed him up hard into the bathroom door, making the wood pop and driving Xander's breath out of him with a whine of pain. Spike shredded the t-shirt and hoodie away from his neck - half off him - and sank his fangs straight in, just holding him there and not moving, not taking the blood that welled up. Knowing that that hurt, that that was like red-hot little knives in the boy's throat.
*Fight this, rabbit - go ahead. Twist and yowl under me, and beg me, and then we'll see...* Xander did fight - clumsy swipes at Spike until the vampire caught the flailing hands and pinned them to the door, grinding wrist bones together until they creaked. Kicked at him until Spike simply got one thigh between Xander's and ground down, painful pressure on hipbones and on his still-hard cock. Xander bucked up into him, last desperate attempt and then went limp, gasping. A whimper of pain was building in his chest - in his throat - and Spike shook his head a little, making Xander cry out.
"Don't - Spike don't, f-fuck, hurts, hurts - " A strangled whisper and Spike shook his head again - took a good, hard pull of the blood and it spangled across his tongue; magic and otherness, please and no, as strong as whiskey and as sweet as honey-wine. And Xander cried out again, but this time in pleasure.
"Feels good, too," Spike said, drawing back and licking his lips - looking at the dazed human who was sagging in his arms. Letting the demon-face slide away. "Do as I say, rabbit, and it'll mostly always feel good." Xander leaned his head into Spike's chest, shuddering, his hips moving without thought against Spike's thigh and Spike finally let go his hold on the thin wrists.
"Get in the shower, pet. Need to get clean. And you still get a reward, do you remember? For being so good with the soldier, you get something nice." Spike opened the bathroom door and caught the boy as he stumbled backwards - pushed him against the wall and got the water going.
*Has to want this. He WILL want this...* Spike didn't, as a rule, care to rape his partners - willing was much more fun. Not that he hadn't raped, from time to time - or had it done to him, once or twice. But he had the feeling that the wolf wouldn't like it if he forced the boy, even to just get him over the initial denial. He had to make the boy think he was giving it - that he could say no if he really wanted. Then the wolf would have no objections. Spike stripped the clothes off Xander in a few easy moves, and the boy just stood there against the wall, shivering and snarling a little, rubbing his wrists and occasionally letting his hand flutter down to stroke over his cock.
*Must ache, being that hard... Like I ache - fuck, I want him...* Spike slid easily out of his own clothes and then stepped into the shower - tugged the boy in with him and pushed him under the spray. Xander gasped a little at the temperature and then lifted his face, turning it and drinking a mouthful, bowing his head so the water pushed his hair over his face and plastered it to his skull, sleek as an otter.
"Pretty thing..." Spike purred, stroking his hands over Xander's chest, scooting him out from under the spray a little. The boy was thin, but muscled. He looked like nothing so much as some street-dog - all whipcord muscle and long bones, tendons stark in the backs of his hands and his ribs showing with each deep breath he took. Old scars twisted over him: ribs and belly, down his left thigh, right shoulder and pectoral. Spike filled his hands with gel soap and started to rub it into the pale-suede skin, delighting in the slippery feel and the heat, in the tremors that wracked the boy when he used blunt nails and strong fingers to tease hipbones and inner thigh, nipples and the small of his back.
Xander turned, arching his back, his forearms on the shower wall, pillowing his head. More scars here, on his back - these a little too regular to be from a fight, but old, very old. Spike spent extra time over them, rolling his knuckles over and over the raised flesh and Xander mewled softly, pushing back into him.
"Who hurt you, pet? Where did you get these?" Spike let his hands slide down over the tense buttocks and kneaded - rubbing and pulling, letting his fingers slip deeper and lower with every passing minute. Xander was breathing in long, shaky sighs by the time his soap-slippery index finger pushed slowly into the tight ring of muscle there.
"Rabbit," Spike said, leaning his forehead on Xander's back, "what are these scars?"
"Ssswitch. Got switched when I was twelve. D-dad was drunk an' I pissed him off... Spike, I -"
"Mmmm? What'd you do, rabbit?" Spike twisted his finger, rubbing the satin-smooth, rippling flesh that clung and flexed around him. His other hand was on Xander's belly, stroking softly. Avoiding the hard jut of his cock for the moment.
"Found his stash. His - liquor stash. God, Spike, please..."
"Shhhh.... Don't fret, rabbit. I'll make it nice. Tell me." Xander shifted, spreading his legs - canting his hips back and arching his throat, panting. He whimpered again, and Spike kissed the side of his neck.
*Fuck. That's so fuckin' hot. Like he'll die if he doesn't get it... Sweet rabbit, pretty little thing, just there, yeah? Fuck yeah...* Spike pushed deeper and then slid in a second finger, pressing and rubbing, watching Xander's legs tremble and his hands curl into fists.
"What'd you do with his liquor, then?" Spike breathed. He slid his other hand around, from stomach to hip to buttock, pulling the boy open wide and pushing the tip of his cock up against his fingers. He pulled - opened - and slid in, pulling his fingers slowly out at the same time and Xander groaned harshly, leaning back into him, biting at his forearm. Spike pushed, steady and straight until he was in, fully in, squeezed by warm flesh and he froze. Xander was shivering and gasping - rocking back and Spike held his hips, caressing the arch of bone, the well of soft skin just beneath.
"Why'd he switch you?" Spike whispered, and moved, just a little.
"I - I d-dumped it all down the sink, I though...he'd stop..." A gasp, a whimper as Spike moved again, tilting his hips so he could find the sweet spot and press, press.
"Oh fuck, fuck -" Xander reared back hard, his head coming up off his arms and his hands scrabbling, clawing a the slick tiles. Spike gave him three, four, five deep thrusts and then stopped again - pulled the boy close and held him immobile, that delicious trembling heat plastered to his chest, clove and mint and honey-musk scent filling his nostrils.
"Foolish little rabbit. Should have let it be. Now you're all marked. We'll fix that, though." Spike nibbled at an earlobe - the point of his jaw - kissed his way down the arch of Xander's throat and bit lightly at the muscle on the top of his shoulder. "Easy fix, that. Put my mark on you. Then the other ones - they don't count anymore."
"Can't make 'em go away, Spike, can't -"
"No, I can't. But I can make them stop mattering." Spike let the demon come - let the fangs prickle over the sweet flesh and let them rest and then pierce and Xander stiffened in his hold - clutched frantically at Spike's soapy arms and hip. Let his head fall back on Spike's shoulder and let Spike hold him - direct him. Spike waited as long as he could, sipping the blood in tiny mouthfuls and then he couldn't wait and he started to thrust. Let go of Xander's throat with his fangs and licked over the beading blood and swelling skin - pushed him forward, finally, bending him and sinking his fingers into the boy's lean hips and just taking him, fucking him, raking his nails down the faintly textured skin of his back and gathering a handful of wet hair to pull and twist.
Xander just let him - just pushed back and braced himself and made a harsh little cry every time Spike hit the right spot. He reached between his own legs, roughly stroking himself and when Spike added his own hand he arched and came, silent, teeth gritted shut. Spike inhaled the new scent, tang of metal and the sea and crushed Xander to him as his own body's rhythm went ragged and frantic. The dying twitches of orgasm made him shiver and Spike leaned over Xander's bowed back and hugged him close - licked over the bite marks on either side of his neck and rubbed his hands over and over the hitching chest and belly, stroking and soothing.
"Rabbit, sweet little rabbit, that was so good, that was so nice, so pretty when you do that, good little rabbit..." Spike crooned in his ear, kissing temple and cheek and Xander took a sharp breath and his hands clawed for a moment at Spike's.
"Don't call me that, you fuck, just - let me go -" The hyena's scent was fading and Spike grinned into Xander's hair and moved his hips a little, pressing in and then sliding slowly out and Xander hissed and twisted away from him - turned and ducked the shower-spray, squinting his eyes.
"Regrets already, pet?" Spike asked, smirking, getting more soap and leisurely washing himself. He scrubbed shampoo through his hair and after a moment Xander shakily started doing the same. Spike let the hot, pounding water wash him clean - stepped aside so that Xander could rinse and then put his hands up in Xander's hair, lifting and combing it, letting the water sluice the soap away. Xander twitched at his touch - tried to edge away and Spike gave a quick, hard yank.
"Stand still, rabbit. Don't want to be all soapy."
"Stop it, Spike! I'm not - not yours, not - this doesn't mean a fuckin' thing, it's -" Spike stopped him with a hard, pinching grip on his neck, digging his nails in and pushing him into the wall - grinding his hips into Xander's ass.
"It means everything, pet. Means your want is stronger than you are - means the beast in you needs and you can't stop it. I've got your blood in me - I've got your taste and your scent in me and you've got mine, in you." Another hard push of hips - hard hand on the boy's jaw and in his hair still, turning his head so Spike can kiss his mouth - bite with human teeth. "Wolf'll know, the minute you walk out there. Every vamp at the club will. Wear it like a fuckin' honor or like a scarlet letter, I don't give a fuck, but you can't take it back, sweet, can't undo it. Little rabbit -" Spike let him go - let him twist around on the tile and glare, mouth red and sore looking, hands clenched into fists.
"Fuck you. Have it. Have the fuckin' 'beast' - maybe it'll leave me alone! Let it out but it just wants more, it just wants -" Xander slammed his fist abruptly into the wall - into Spike when the vampire reached out and tried to take his wrist. Spike snarled and snapped his teeth and Xander recoiled. "It wants you and it wants the blood but I don't. I don't."
"Oh, pet. Think that matters? There won't be enough of you left, by and by, to care." Spike shut the water off and stepped out - grabbed a towel and dried himself and left Xander there, hunched and furious and shivering.
*Couple more hours' sleep - hot meal - and we'll see what Viv has for him to do.* Spike curled himself into his bed, smiling, running his hands over his body and arching like a cat as he replayed the feel of the boy under him and around him. *That was so good - that was just right. Teach it to heel, teach it to eat from my hand. It wants it more than he DOESN'T want it...wants so much...* Xander's blood was like a live thing in him, warming him from the inside out and shivering his skin and he sighed in contentment, drifting off, listening and then not listening to the muttering, disjointed drone of the boy's voice as he tried to talk himself to sleep.