Disclaimer: If they were mine it wouldn't be called *fan*fiction would it?
Pretty When You Break
Spike wormed his way into every part of the boy’s life until Xander came to expect it.
Hot mid-summer‘s night and Spike was out looking for a fight. Restless he’d been through 3 cemeteries already and was starting on the University grounds - prime spot to hunt for co-eds. Hearing a scuffle Spike took off through some trees. when he hit the clearing he stopped in his tracks. There was Harris axe swinging and two lumpy green demons. Xander fighting - all out - teeth bared, blood and steel fighting. It took his breath away, the feral grace, power, bloodlust shining for all the world to see. And he wanted it, wanted his boy.
Shaken by the possessive thoughts Spike had left the clearing. The next day Spike watched the boy all through the meeting and patrol. Back was the clumsy cheerful boy, like last night had never happened. It puzzled him, it enraged his demon. Where was his beautiful, deadly mate?
Unable to let the image of Xander blood splattered and triumphant go Spike started following him. Got himself invited into the human’s home and stayed. In his own space Xander relaxed, some of that fool mask washed away. As he became used to Spike’s presence he let if fall completely.
Spike wormed his way into every part of the boy’s life until Xander came to expect it. It was Spike he turned to for advice, it was the vampire he patrolled with, went out to the bronze with, came home and bitched to after a bad day. All the while Spike watched looking for glimpses of that primal part of Xander. He saw it first when Willow was in danger or when he was in a mood and threatened.
But the pattern changed. Willow and Buffy fell back into college life and pushed at Xander. Pushed him away, pushed at his tolerance for their jibes for their thoughtlessness. They pushed and Spike pulled him closer. He took to teaching Xander fighting moves and how to handle weapons, introduced him to cultural things. Let the human see a bit of William.
As for the feral part, Spike encouraged it, subtly peeling back the layers of doughnut-boy and son of the town drunk. Leaving the beast a little closer to the surface, till it was right under the skin. Xander was more confident, no longer holding back. He walked taller, moved like he owned his body - like any room he walked in was his.
Tactile Xander craved touch and Spike gave him that. Half hugs and brushing limbs sitting on the couch. Massages when the boy’s day job and his nights of patrol tensed and tore muscles painfully. Addicting him to the feel of cool skin against his own. A double edged sword because Spike was soon addicted to the heat of Xander.
The day Xander broke was the most beautiful thing Spike had ever seen. Unwavering, flushed and near tears, anger plain in his stance Xander backed down the slayer. If he’d still been William he would have wept at the beauty of his boy. As it was Spike got instantly and painfully hard, demon howling at the sight of his mate reborn. They fought over Spike, ironic that the slayer feared he’d corrupt the boy, taint him, change him. He’d already been tainted before Spike found him and the boy had changed too much to go back now. Xander let them have it and walked away.
He cried that night, a handful of tears dampening Spike’s shirt where Xander hid his face. But the grief soon passed as Spike whispered of far away places. Bright cities and forgotten lands, of new beginnings. Xander looked up at the vampire eyes wide and eager, Spike couldn’t resist and leaned down to kiss his mate.
They’d leave the next night, see the world - settle down whereever they took a fancy. Spike hide a smile in the Xander’s sable locks. They’d be a thing of legend - William the Bloody and his beautiful feral mate.
Pretty in the Light
Two years Later
Two years of traveling had brought them to Japan. Spike and Xander lost themselves in Tokyo, causing a stir under the neon lights. Playing in clubs where they drew admires like moths and hunting in the gray between demon and human sections of the city.
The vampire delighted in his love’s refusal to eat raw fish when he nearly drool over a bloody steak. The traditional tea ceremony taxed Xander’s patients and Spike’s attention span. Both had delighted in the hot springs, slipping out after the witching hour to enjoy them in peace.
They were celebrating two years together. And while they’d traveled on a whim before, getting in a car or jumping a plan and just *going*, Japan had been a deliberate choice. Xander had found, god knows how, a doctor that could and would take out the chip. It was to be his present.
Such a thing only underscored the reasons Spike loved him. His mate ever still the white hat but so sure that Spike would behave himself. And against odds, Spike will because his mate is worth it.
In the wee hours of the morning the vampire had often watched the mortal sleep. So pretty in the moonlight, streetlight, in the dawning, dying sun. His beloved mate. More and more he thinks of the white light of a souling spell and knows the day is coming when he’ll see that worshiped face vamped and snarling bathed in that light.
Pretty in Transition
Summary: An addiction...
A/N: For purrrfickitty: not quite what you asked for, but I hope you like it none the less
Though the chip has long been disabled Spike still craves Xander’s blood like it is the only fresh he ever gets. It isn’t about feeding, it’s about the connection, the absolute kaleidoscope of emotions - in the form of hormones and pheromones and the other nifty little chemicals that flood his Mate’s blood - that Spike can taste. Ambrosia, if such a thing could be found on earth.
To Xander Spike’s blood is like a magic potion. It sparkles and cracks like pop-rocks across his tongue and through his veins; leaving him light-headed and feral in his need. It’s wicked, wicked stuff that makes him possessive and brutal, and practically giddy.
To say they are addicted would be an understatement; but it is an addiction neither would willing give up. They are each other’s source and enabler. A situation that suites them fine, even if no one else understands it.
Pretty HumanHis Mate was twenty five now, no longer the half grown boy he'd been when they first met. Nor was he the newly confidant man just finding his stride that he'd been when they became lovers. Xander had matured beyond even what that first glimpse of his inner feral had promised.
He'd hit his final growth spurt and settled a hand-full of inches taller then Spike. Their constant motion: hunting, sparring, playing - had packed muscle on his frame, filling out broad shoulders, cording thighs and padding ribs deliciously.
Spike had, impossibly, become more enamored the longer they were together. His teeth ached to graze across his claiming mark after mere hours apart. Spike found himself nudging Xander awake just to hear his sleepy rumbling voice in the middle of the day. The poet turned vampire had even found himself composing sonnets in his head while they waited in line at the movie theater or the grocer's.
Spike was simply besotted.
He ghosted his finger over the laugh lines starting to crease Xander's face. Beautiful. But a reminder that Time was leaving her mark on him. Xander would be gorgeous at thirty and stunning at forty with a little silver in those sable locks.
Time was a cruel mistress though, weakening from the inside. And Spike had no intention of letting that happen. As wicked as the thought of having an 'older' lover was the vampire couldn't risk his Mate to human frailties. Time had come for that Souling Spell.
Pretty RebornSpike watched as his beloved childe started to stir from his changeling sleep. Three days ago Spike had bitten Xander – on the opposite side of his neck from his Claiming Mark rather then subverting it with the Sire's Bite, so that he would have both to display and draw comfort from. Spike held Xander as the heat that always radiated from his human beloved faded, drinking his life's blood and finally feeding Xander his own.
Three long days and four lonely nights had passed as Spike sat vigil. Spike had not buried his childe as many Sires do. The experience of waking trapped underground, disoriented and racked with thirst was unspeakable – leaving the childe frightened and needy. Spike couldn't bare the thought of putting his beloved through that.
He had missed his Mate's voice, the tiny nuzzling movements he made when they settled down to sleep, and a thousand other little things. But now his darling Xander was waking. He'd spent the last four nights gorging himself on blood so he could feed Xander as much Sire's blood as he could hold. To make him stronger, healthier, for the Souling ritual.
Spike watched as Xander stretched arching his back like a cat. The new vampire took a deep breath and suddenly turned his head to where Spike was sitting. A wide grin split his face, “Sire,” he breathed. “Spike, Mate. Mine. My Sire.” Xander half chanted as he slunk off the bed and over to Spike.
Spike moaned at the sight. Delighted beyond words at how perfect his childe was. He lifted his arms in invitation drawing his Mate on to his lap. He kissed Xander reveling in the taste of his mouth. “Drink Childe,” he encouraged guiding the dark head to his neck
Pretty DemonA scant few hours had passed since Xander’s awakening. The fledgling vampire had fallen back to sleep after a rather manic round of sex. Spike had been a bit rough with his childe but Xander had seemed to crave it. His neck was tender where Xander had latched on to it during their nap, nursing from him as they slept.
Spike was tempted to scold Xander for it. A Childe should never take from their Sire unless invited to do so. But that was the reason he’d drank so much and Spike had never been one for lectures anyway. He smirked in thought, maybe he could ’punish’ Xander for it later. Spike had to drag his mind back from the lovely images to the task at hand.
He was being very precise as he laid out the ritual components. The Souling Spell was a modified version of the gypsy curse. He’d paid a pretty penny for the alteration but it was worth it. Xander had sulked a bit, his demon wanting to go out and play, but he could remember how much this had meant to him before and paired with the commanding Sire’s Voice Xander had quickly caved.
His Mate was in the bathroom washing up and probably bitching about pushy Sires. His beloved had a mouth on him and his sarcastic edge had only sharpened over the years. Spike finished placing candles around the salt and petal cast pentagram and read over the spell words again.
Soon Xander came into the room still pouting a little. Spike had him stand in the center of the star after a brief reassuring kiss. Spike started chanting the ritual words, he watched carefully as a white light began to shimmer and rise from the pentagram. Xander shifted restlessly but didn’t move.
Suddenly his lover threw back his head and roared as a bright light burst from within. Xander’s face flickered from human to vampire rapidly. The sight was captivating and a little scary. He half shouted the final word of the spell and Xander crumpled to his knees.
Spike rushed to him and pulled his lover to lay across his lap. Gently he tapped the flushed cheeks to bring him around. “Xander.” He called softly. Dark lashes fluttered but it took a few moments for his eyes to open. “How do you feel pet?”
“Warm.” Xander murmured. “Feels funny. Kinda... Sparkly inside.” He squirmed a bit as the feeling faded. Before Spike could say anything else Xander shoved him back onto the floor and kissed him hungrily. Pulling back from the kiss Xander remarked, “I don’t know what Angel’s problem is - I don’t feel broody at all.” Spike just laughed and rolled his Mate over.
He shook the salt and petals from his hair, licked his teeth and leered at Xander sprawled beneath him. He had known they’d be great together - legendary even - and now they had eternity to make it so.
|Feed the Author|
|Home||Categories||New Stories||Non Spander|