Begins in Season Seven BtVS between Sleeper and Never Leave Me.
Upon the Twelfth Night
Xander sighed as he finished setting up the extra large Christmas tree in Summer's living room. It wasn't going to be the same with Joyce gone, but Christmas was coming and he wasn't going to let Dawn go without a tree, not if he could help it.
Willow had helped him pick out the tree. It was easy to find a nice, full fir so many weeks before the actual holiday. The young carpenter found the stand and set the tree up in front of the large picture window, the one he'd replaced more times than he could count.
A sad silence had descended over the entire home as the young carpenter stood on the top of the ladder, stretching to put the angel on its peak.
"Careful, Xander," Willow admonished quietly. "We don't want you to fall."
"No worries, Willow," the sable haired boy smiled in reply. "I've been putting this angel up for the last four years, remember? I had to since Joyce always picked out such large trees and she could never..."
He trailed off, remembering every tree topping date. He heard a soft sniff and knew this was affecting Willow as much as it was him.
"Maybe we should do something special with the tree this year, you know, in case Giles shows up."
Xander wanted to tell her not to bother, that Giles wasn't coming. The Watcher had already made that painfully clear. But before he could stop her, she was off in her own little world.
"Yeah, we could make the tree sparkle, like an old English tree. Make it look like it has candles on it, like Victorian trees. It shouldn't be too hard. It would just take a simple spell."
Turning his head, Xander watched as the young witch began to chant quietly. It still made him nervous, seeing Willow perform magic. His friend nearly ended the world with her power and there were so many things that could go wrong. Quickly, Xander placed the angel on its perch before turning, preparing to ask Willow to stop. The tree was beautiful as it was. They didn't need the spell. But as he moved, his foot slipped on the well worn rung and before he knew it, he was tumbling off the ladder and into the tree.
But his body never touched the decorated fir. Instead, he found himself face first on a dirty, wet, cold cobblestone street.
Xander felt the street around him. It was wet and cold and he could not place the smell for the life of him. It was dark, so wherever Willow had spelled him to, it was night. Pushing himself up, Xander winced. Both knees had taken a bad beating on his ungraceful landing and from the way the world dipped and swayed, he must have taken a blow to the head as well.
He stumbled once trying to stand, then twice, landing in a rather large puddle. He wanted to curse, he wanted to cry until he heard a gentle but kind voice above him.
"Good heavens. You poor man. Are you alright? Here, let me help you up."
Xander reached up, ready to let the Good Samaritan help him to his feet. He all but froze when he saw the familiar face.
"Spike!?" he shouted, nearly tumbling back down to the pavement onto his face.
"Spike?" the young man asked, obviously confused. "I can assure you, I have no spike and I intend no harm on your person. My name is William Bradford and I'd like to help you if that's possible."
Xander stared up at the man, not truly believing what he was seeing. Piercing blue eyes? Check. Perfectly chiseled cheekbones? Check. Smooth, pale porcelain skin? Check. But there were plenty of differences as well. Instead of platinum slicked back hair, this man's hair was a dirty blond that hung in curls over his forehead and around his ears. The skin under his hand was warm and soft. The accent, while familiar, wasn't nearly as harsh and common as the one Xander was used to hearing pass through those lips, even after he had his soul returned to him.
It looked like Spike, but Xander knew, somehow it wasn't.
"Good lord," the not-Spike whispered as he reached into his pocket, pulling out a spotless, white handkerchief. "You seem to be bleeding. Do you remember who attacked you?"
Xander shook his head, confused by the question, until a strong hand gripped his jaw, holding his head still as the white cloth was pressed against the split skin near his temple. The boy flinched in pain, trying to come up with an answer.
"No," Xander whispered. "I didn't see anyone attack me." It wasn't really a lie, so Xander didn't feel too bad. "Actually, I don't seem to remember much. Like where I am and possibly when I am."
"Oh dear," the human version of Spike gasped, still pressing the white cotton to the bleeding wound. "Well, that's not good at all, is it then? You are in London, England and it is December twenty-sixth, the year eighteen hundred and seventy-eight."
Xander gasped in shock. Willow had done quite a number on him with that spell. He just hoped she would get him back soon.
"Have you lost a bit of time, then?" the blond man whispered as he leaned in close to inspect the wound.
"Yeah, quite a bit, actually."
"You're from the Americas, aren't you?" The anti-Spike whispered, a small smile playing on his soft lips. "You have quite a peculiar accent."
Xander's heart raced as he tried to come up with a proper response. He tried vainly to remember something from his world history class, but the only thing he could clearly see was the way Cordelia's short skirts would ride up when she sat two desks up and one row over.
At Xander's silence, the blond man laughed and stroked the quiet boy's arm. "Not to worry, now. We'll figure this out. We know you are probably from the Americas, you've been – working, by the look of your outfit, yes?"
Looking down at himself and then at the blond man's outfit, Xander figured he must look rather odd. He had on his favorite pair of Levi's – did they even have Levi's in the eighteen hundreds – he was pretty sure they did. His steel toed boots were tan and nondescript and the white wifebeater and flannel button up shouldn't make him stand out too much. He nodded slowly before speaking.
"Yeah, from what I can remember, I'm here looking for work," Xander lied. "My friend Willow sent me here and I must have gotten jumped. I just can't remember."
"Dear lord," the blond – William, Xander reminded himself – whispered as he began to search the alley. "Do you have any baggage? Anything to know where you might be staying?"
Xander shook his head, wondering how the hell he was going to get out of this mess.
"Well, that settles it then," William proclaimed loudly. "You'll come to stay with me and mother until you either remember where your belongings are or until the vile culprits are caught."
The sable haired boy simply smiled and nodded. This was definitely not the Spike he knew. He had to go with him. What other choice did he have? William smiled widely, his blue eyes sparkling in the low light, before tucking his bloody handkerchief away.
"Mother will be pleased to have someone else to dote on, I'm sure. Oh, by the way, what is your name so I can introduce you properly?"
A perfect, unscarred eyebrow rose in an all too familiar gesture. Xander chuckled before clarifying, "It's short for Alexander. Alexander Harris."
"It's a pleasure to make your acquaintance, Alexander Harris," William proclaimed with a smile. "This might sound a trifle odd, but I have the most uncanny feeling that we've met before."
Xander snorted as they began to slowly make their way out of the smelly, dark alley. "Yeah," he whispered under his breath. "I know the feeling."
William was able to get Xander home without further incident, although the sable haired boy worried that Willow might spell him back just as the two men approached the small but ornate house. He wondered how messed up the young man would be, his companion suddenly spelled away.
But they made it there safely and William introduced his rescuee with pride. Anne Bradford fussed over Xander the moment she heard his tale from her son, sending William off to fetch supplies as she covered Xander with a thick quilt before setting the kettle for tea.
Xander sat still on the stiff couch while Anne cleaned and sealed his head wound with some sort of stinging, smelling liquid before plying the young man with tea and biscuits. He smiled as Anne hovered and murmured to him sweetly as she worked, softly patting his hand or arm as she talked. She was sweet, calling him Alexander in that motherly tone that sounded nothing like his own mother, but reminded him painfully of Joyce.
He sobbed quietly, thinking of the women he'd always loved like a mother, not yet born, but dead and buried in his memory. Anne reached over to pat his arm again, sympathy shining in her crystal blue eyes.
"Do you miss your family, dear?" she asked quietly.
"Yeah," Xander whispered. Again, it was not completely a lie. "You remind me of my mother. I miss her."
"Is she..." William interrupted, "...gone?"
Xander nodded, his dark curls falling over his face as he tried to hide his tears. "She died, not that long ago. It still hurts."
The young man suddenly found himself flanked on either side by a comforting body, each Bradford taking one his hands in their own.
"Well," Anne finally pronounced once she had found her voice. "I think it's best if you stay here until we can find a better situation for you. I insist, you understand, so there's no point in arguing."
Xander smiled, silently nodding his compliance.
Satisfied with the response, Anne stood, smiling down at both young men. "William, why don't you take Alexander to the bedroom and see if any of your father's clothing will fit him. I'll get some clean linen for the guest room."
Proclamation made, the smiling woman turned and left the room, intent on her preparations. William stood quickly, pulling Xander up by their still clasped hands.
"Come on. Let's see what we can find for you."
Xander obediently followed, amazed at the wardrobe full of fine shirts and suits. William quickly pulled out several outfits, laying them across the bed before looking up to his new friend.
"Come on now, Alexander. Get your kit off and try some of this on."
Xander looked down at the fine clothing on the bed. He hesitated, wondering if he could even wear something so nice.
William whispered quietly. "I know they're not quite in style, but they'll have to do until you can buy your own."
"No," Xander explained, "That's not it at all. I've just never worn anything so nice. Besides, I wouldn't want your father being upset that I'm in his stuff."
William laughed softly. "Not much chance of that since my Da passed away close to three years ago now. Mother has not been able to part with his things even now. But maybe if you can wear his clothes, she'll be able to let go, even if it's just a little bit."
Xander nodded knowing how it was to let go of someone you loved and reached down, fingering the fine, soft fabric. He waited for William to leave, but once it became clear that the other man wasn't going anywhere, Xander stripped down and pulled on the first outfit. He turned to look at himself in the mirror, staring at the reflection in shock.
"There now," the soft, silky voice sounded directly behind him before pale hands reached around to fasten the buttons at Xander's neck before fixing his tie. "You look smashing."
Xander blushed at the complement before turning to look at the blond man. "Thanks, but I don't think I can accept all this. I mean, I don't know how to repay you."
William stared at the boy for several long minutes. Xander could tell the blond man was debating with himself of what to say, how to handle the stubborn, proud young man. Finally, William asked, "What kind of work do you do?"
"Construction," Xander answered softly. "Carpentry mostly."
William smiled widely before asking, "Do you do any cabinetry work?"
The smile that split Xander's face was blinding. "It's my favorite, actually."
"Then it's settled," William proclaimed. "I've been trying to figure what to do for Mother for Twelfth Night and now I know. She's wanted new cabinets in the kitchen and parlor. Do you think you could have the work done by then?"
"Twelfth Night. The Epiphany? Do you not celebrate in the Americas?"
"Apparently not," Xander confessed as he slipped off the woolen jacket.
"It's quite simple," William began to explain as he helped Xander out of his father's clothing. "Twelfth Night is celebrated on the eve of January fifth, the night before the Epiphany, when we celebrate the arrival of the wise men to present their gifts to the Christ child. We exchange presents and enjoy the end of the season, the twelve days of Christmas."
"So that's where the song came from?" Xander mused as William pulled the shirt from his shoulders.
William chuckled as he hung the shirt on the hanger and placed it back in the wardrobe. "Yes, partridges and all."
The two young men stood, staring at each other. William was smiling and Xander felt like the crystal blue eyes were looking deep into him, looking at his soul. He was suddenly afraid that William would see him, see through him and know that Xander wasn't what he claimed to be.
The spell between them was suddenly broken when Anne walked in and pleasantly announced, "The guest room is ready whenever you are Alexander. Will the clothes be sufficient, William?"
"Yes, Mother," William responded with a smile. "Everything should fit him perfectly."
"Excellent. Come now, Alexander. You need your rest."
Without another word, the two boys followed the matronly women into the small bedroom. The bed was freshly made with the sheets turned down and a long, crisp white nightshirt laying on its surface. Both William and his mother stood by as Xander pulled the long shirt over his head. The hem reached down to his knees and the boy quickly toed off his boots and socks, stripping himself of his pants before slipping in between the crisp, clean sheets.
"Just a bit of medicine before you go to sleep, Alexander," Anne whispered as she held out a large brown bottle and a wide spoon filled with an ominous looking liquid.
"What is it?"
"Laudanum. Drink it down now. You'll feel better come morning."
Xander obediently swallowed down the spoonful of bitter-sweet medicine. Anne smiled and leaned forward, kissing the boy on the top of his head.
"Sleep now. We'll see you in the morning."
Xander sighed as the lights were extinguished and the house slipped into silence. His head began to spin and he wondered exactly what laudanum was. He giggled to himself in the darkness that this was what he was worried about. He was suddenly sure that he'd wake up in the morning and this would all be a dream.
But somehow, a part of him didn't want this to be a dream at all.
Xander woke the next morning to discover that it really hadn't been a dream after all. It was the same the next day and the next and the next. Every night he went to bed, expecting to be back in Sunnydale when he woke, and every morning, he woke to find himself still in England.
He enjoyed staying with William and Anne. They were sweet and caring, making sure Xander's needs were met. They liked him and he liked them too. Xander's work on Anne's cabinets was a brilliant success. The older woman raved and sighed and nearly cried as she looked upon her surprise. Xander and William both received enthusiastic hugs and kisses.
On Twelfth Night, both William and Anne presented Xander with gifts, since he had admitted that he had missed Christmas. William gave the boy a tin of chocolates that Xander had been drooling over the first time they had gone out shopping and Anne gave him a new suit jacket, one that was more tailored and more in style. Xander was merely able to smile and murmur a thank you through his tears. It felt like family.
Xander decided that Twelve Night was a pretty decent holiday.
That night, he wondered if Willow was still trying to bring him back or if they'd given up hope.
Days passed by quickly and Xander found himself in a simple routine. Word had spread quickly about the quality work that Xander did and soon he had a tidy little business working in the finest homes in London. He worked hard in the morning, came home for tea with William and Anne, finished his work for the day, had dinner with his makeshift family before heading out for the evening with William.
Xander didn't much care for the parties, but William enjoyed the interaction with his peers. Xander thought their peers were nothing more than bullies who thought they were better than everyone else. Everyone else being William and Xander.
Other than the snobs of the Victorian social scene, Xander decided that he rather liked London. Sure, it reeked of horse manure and Xander missed his car, but things were simple and quiet. He hadn't seen a single vampire or demon since he'd landed in that dark alley.
It was easy to pretend that there was no such thing as vampires and monsters, witches and demons. During the day, Xander could almost make himself believe that he didn't know what a Watcher was or that in all the world, there was one girl destined to save them all.
His memory faded until eventually, the only time he remembered hellmouths and evil that was not in the heart of man, was in his dreams.
Alexander stood off to the side of the room, watching the partygoers around him as he sipped his sherry. He hated this particular group of people, but William had insisted that they go and Alexander could never deny his best friend anything. He enjoyed William's presence more than any other. He'd lived with the young man and his mother for nearly two years and William treated Alexander like his little brother.
Unfortunately, Alexander didn't want to be William's little brother. He wanted to be something more, although he wasn't entirely sure what he truly wanted. But being here was torture for Alexander.
He watched surreptitiously as William sat by himself on a small settee, no doubt writing a sonnet or some other proclamation of love for that bitch Cecily. Alexander shook himself, wondering where such awful thoughts could come from. He was a proper gentleman and it was wrong to think such things about an English lady, but Alexander had no control over how he felt.
In his musing, he lost track of William until he saw the shy young man pulling his poetry away from a group crowded around him, obviously laughing at his friend's expense. He watched as William slipped into an adjoining room and hurried over to spare his friend an embarrassing situation.
He was stopped on his way by the still laughing harassers.
"Alexander," a mirthful voice called out. "How can you stand to hang around that frightful bore? You'd do much better move out of that tiny old house with that old woman and the boy still clutching to her apron strings. It just might increase you social standing."
Alexander snorted at them, shocking them all into silence. "I could care less about my social standing if it's governed by the likes of you."
As he turned to stalk away, the sable haired man heard the indignant voices he left in his wake. It brought a wide smile to his determined face.
Reaching the room where William had disappeared, Alexander peered around the corner just in time to hear his best friend profess his love to Cecily. William's words brought tears to his hazel eyes, but Alexander forced himself to listen. He froze in horror as Cecily not merely rejected the young poet, but crushed him beneath her perfect shoes.
William raced out of the house and Alexander moved quickly to follow him, but not before he stopped in front of the young heiress sitting before him.
"You vapid bitch," Alexander hissed in her shocked face. "I wish you could spend every day of your precious little life knowing how much pain you've caused."
Rushing out of the party, the young man never heard Cecily's sharp gasp or the harshly whispered "Done" from the older man standing in the doorway behind him he'd never seen before. Honestly, he really didn't care what happened to her as long as he found his William.
Alexander ran, trying his best to find his friend, freezing when he heard the familiar voice coming from a rundown buggy stable. He rushed inside, surprised to see his friend with a dark haired woman. There was something so familiar about all of this, something he should remember, but it seemed out of his grasp. Alexander stepped closer so he could hear better.
"Oh yes, I mean, no. I mean…Mother's expecting me," he heard William whisper. His friend sounded frightened and flustered and he just wanted to get the other man out of there as quickly as possible.
"I see what you want," the woman whispered seductively. "Something glowing and glistening. Something...effulgent."
Alexander's heart skipped a beat at the look on his friend's face. William looked completely enamored with this raven-haired beauty.
"Effulgent," William whispered, his face shining more beautifully than Alexander had ever seen.
"Do you want it?"
"Oh, yes," William gasped. "God, yes."
Alexander went to turn, not wanting to witness something so intimate, something so painful, but something strange was happening. The woman's face began to shift and change. Her eyes began to glow golden and ridges formed over her face. Long fangs descended, gleaming with saliva in the low night light.
As if a switch had been flipped, memories began to slam into the young man with such force that he stumbled slightly. Vampires, Sunnydale, Slayers, Buffy, Willow, Spike, Angel, Drusilla: it all came back to him in rush. He had to save William, had to stop Drusilla before she turned the young man he cared for more than all others into Spike.
He turned to hunt for a stake, something, anything he could drive into the vampire's heart when he ran directly into a very hard, solid chest.
"Now what do we have here?" the dark baritone rolled over Xander. Fearfully, he lifted his eyes to stare into hard, chocolate orbs he knew and hated.
"Fuck," he cursed quietly. "Angelus."
"Ah," the tall vampire purred. "It seems my reputation has preceded me. "How do ya' know me name, boy?"
"No time to explain," Xander said in a rush. "We have to stop her. If you let Drusilla turn William, he's going to turn into the bane of your existence. Trust me, you don't want to be responsible for turning him into Spike, do you?"
Angelus stared down at the young boy for a moment before grabbing him harshly, wrenching Alexander against him, the human's back pressed tightly against his chest.
"I saw the way ya' was lookin' at him, boy," Angelus whispered seductively, his lips so close to his ear that Alexander could almost feel the ghosting of the non-existent breath against his ear. "Yer wantin' him all for your own and yer just jealous of me Dru."
Xander didn't bother to fight or deny the vampire's words. There was no need. They both knew the truth. As they watched, Drusilla began to drain William, the young man sinking to the filthy dirt floor.
"No," Xander whispered as he watched his friend slowly die.
"Do no' be sad, little one," Angelus purred. "Ye've intrigued me and that hasn't happen in a long time. Think I'll be keepin' ya' around."
Xander didn't have time to protest before razor sharp fangs were buried deep in his neck. He didn't fight, didn't cry out. His William was gone. He would go into the night willingly. His eyes were locked on the boy in the dirt as his life slowly slipped away and the world turned dark all around him.
When Xander awoke, he noticed two things immediately; one, that he was in a bed and two, that he was not alone. Slowly, Xander opened his eyes, his non-existent breath catching in his throat.
"William," he whispered reverently.
As if called to life by the sound of his name, William's eyes snapped open, the crystal blue tinged with gold.
"I thought you were dead," Xander whispered.
"I believe I am dead, Alexander."
The sable haired boy chuckled lightly in response. "I was afraid I'd never see this face again," he whispered, running his fingertips over the soft, pale skin of William's perfect cheekbones. "There's something I've been wanting to do for a while. May I?"
"Why did you wait this long?"
Xander immediately darted in, kissing the friend he thought he'd lost. It was harder than he'd wanted for a first kiss but he couldn't seem to hold himself back. He wanted to touch, to taste, to experience every little bit of this man that he could. Soft tongues tangled as teeth clanked in their need, they reached out with greedy hands, clutching each other close, groaning loudly as their naked bodies rubbed together.
Xander rolled them so he was atop his friend, rocking his body harshly against the naked flesh beneath him. He quickly found himself on his back, William staring down at him with a wild glint in his eyes. The lips returned and the two men fought for dominance as they rolled over the bed's surface.
Neither man noticed the prick of new fangs against their lips until their blood was being transferred between them. They were lost in each other until they heard a small snicker behind them.
"Looks like our new kittens know how to bite and scratch, Daddy."
"Aye. They'll be fun little kittens, Dru."
Both men on the bed froze, turning to see who was watching them. Sitting on a chair at the food of the bed was Angelus with his childe Drusilla perched on his lap.
"Fuck," Xander cursed. "You're my sire? I hate you."
Angelus growled low in his throat and both men on the bed cringed, curling around each other slightly. Xander's demon whimpered at the displeasure in his sire's look and the young man quickly worked to explain.
"No, I don't hate you, Sire, I hate the broody, pain in the ass vamp you become."
"You'd best be explainin', childe, and now."
Xander looked from the vampire in the chair to his friend in his arms. "I'm sorry I lied to you William, but – I'm kinda from the future."
Once the laughter died down, he continued. "According to the Watcher's Journals, you were born Liam, although no one really knows your last name," Xander started, staring deep into Angelus' sparkling eyes. "You were turned by Darla, where is she by the way? Never mind, she turned you in an alleyway in Ireland. You traveled around pretty much wrecking havoc everywhere you went. Together, the four of you were known as the Fanged Four, or the Scourge of Europe."
Next, he turned to look at Drusilla. "The Watcher's Journals say you were an innocent girl that Angelus stalked and tortured before he turned you the night you were to take your vows to be a nun. He fucked Darla right in front of you, on the alter of the church, no less."
"Interesting," Angelus purred. "You seem to know so much about us. Were you a Watcher?"
"No," Xander chuckled. "In my time, I was a friend of a Slayer called Buffy."
The three other vampires in the room began to laugh heartily. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you," Xander smirked at Angelus. "You're the one who fucks her."
"Before I kill her?"
William laughed heartily before Xander looked him in the eyes. "I wouldn't laugh if I were you. You fuck her too. You both fall in love with her."
"Buffy? A vampire slayer? That's the most ridiculous thing I've ever heard," Angelus complained.
"I didn't write it," Xander explained. "I just lived it."
"And what was this about a soul?" Drusilla asked.
Xander looked at Angelus, sad that he would have to lose his sire to a stupid curse. "You and Darla go to Romania and Darla gives you this girl to eat, you know, as a present. Turns out, she's the treasured of her tribe, so the elders decide to curse you by returning your soul. That way you would be tortured every day, having to live with everything you had done as a vampire. You live on your own for a while and eventually you become this sad, broody vampire who helps the Slayer in Sunnydale."
"Sounds like a bad dream," William whispered quietly.
"I wish it was," Xander answered, dropping his eyes. "I can only tell you what happens."
"Well," Angelus purred as he rose from the chair, pulling Drusilla over to the bed along with him. "Then I guess I'll just 'ave to cancel our trip to Romania then."
Xander looked up into the smirking face of his sire in awe. It was simple.
"Anything else I might need to know, childe?"
Xander shuddered at the seduction and pleasure in his sire's voice. "I could probably think of a thing or two."
Angelus kissed him then, harsh and strong, possessing him completely. He looked over at William as the kisses began to trail down his neck. Drusilla had already started kissing a trail down William's pale chest and the blond man was moaning appreciatively. Xander reached over, lacing his fingers with William's and held on as both men were taken by their sires.
It was harsh and bloody as Angelus bit every part of Xander's body he could reach with his cock deep inside the boy while Drusilla stripped away layers of William's skin with her sharp, talon-like nails as she rode his cock. The elder vampires shared blood filled kisses as they took their pleasure from their newly risen childer.
Hours later, Angelus and Drusilla lay on one side of the bed, holding each other as the two young men kissed and touched, bringing each other back to the brink of orgasm again and again.
"I think we're gonna 'ave our hands full with these two, me Dru," Angelus whispered, exhausted.
"Yes, but the pretty kittens are going to help our family stay together, right Daddy?"
"Aye, Dru. I think they just might."
Xander lifted his head slowly from William's cock. The blond vampire whimpered at the loss of contact and tried to pull his friend back to him. Xander simply smirked at his sire and asked, "Since I'm in the mix now, can we call ourselves the Fanged Five?"
Angelus looked at the young vampire as if he had grown a second head. "Nah, boy. I think not."
"Please," Xander pled, turning the famous 'Xander puppy dog eyes' on his sire. He could practically see Angelus' resolve crumbling before his eyes.
Xander smirked before quickly moving back to the task of pleasuring his friend. He knew, this was going to be fun.
Xander stood before the high school that had been both the bane of his existence and the place of some of his greatest accomplishments.
Somehow he thought it would be bigger.
It was dark, except for the library. He wondered if Giles was here yet, but he was sure he wasn't. It was too early. Buffy wasn't due for several more months yet and he didn't want to alert anyone to their presence.
Suddenly, a cool soft hand was in his and Xander couldn’t help but squeeze it tightly.
"You alright, pet?" Spike asked.
"Yeah, Spike. It's just weird being here, is all. What if the plan doesn't work?"
"It'll work just fine," Angelus whispered as he stepped behind the two vampires, wrapping his arms around their thin waists. "All your plans have worked so far, haven't they? Without you, things would be so different."
Xander nodded. Things would have been so different if Willow hadn't sent him back with that spell. Just the thought of Willow made Xander's mouth water. He wondered if she would taste of magic even now before Giles stirred her powers to the surface.
"Do I really have to pretend to be nice to Slayer?" Angelus complained for the hundredth time.
"Well," Xander answered with a smirk. "You can either let the Harvest happen. That will let the Master out and he can control the Hellmouth or you can wait, let my human counterpart save her so she can kill the Master, then we can control this town and the Hellmouth."
Angelus shook his head. "I can't believe I let you talk me into this."
"Yes, but then you can turn me...well, the other me. Think how much fun that could be."
Both Angelus and Spike purred at the thought.
"But then we won't be your famed Fanged Five anymore, Xan," Spike pointed out.
"Well, since he'd be me, we could just count both of me as one, right?"
Angelus laughed as Spike pulled Xander in for a kiss. "Sometimes your logic hurts my head, pet."
"Then maybe it's time to take me to church."
Angelus chuckled deep in his throat. "Picking up on my kinks, are you now boys?"
Xander just smiled up his sire from the circle of his love's arms. "Nope, but tonight's a special night."
"January fifth?" the elder vampire asked.
"Twelfth Night," Xander clarified. "It's the night my true love gave to me."
"What?" Angelus asked. "A partridge in a pear tree?"
Xander smiled as he stared into the blue eyes he loved so. "No, something much more precious than that."
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