Note: I wrote a snugglefic and it went weirdly dark.
Pairing: Spike/Xander and Angel/Xander
Warnings: Off-stage child abuse
Feedback: Makes me sing and dance
Disclaimer: If *I* owned Spike he'd stay naked all the time.
Summary: Spike, resting up after some hot 3-way action, witnesses a unique bedtime story.
Liam of Campbell had a black, intimidating gaze long before he was turned, and from his impressive height it was said he could stare down the sturdiest of men and make the most jaded of women weak at the knees.
He also had wrinkles around his eyes when he smiled. Spike wondered how he roamed beside his grandsire for so many years without noticing the wrinkles around his eyes.
Of course, it could be that Angelus just didn’t *smile* like he was smiling now. Joked, smirked, gloated, yes. But then he got his soul and that went away. Now?
Now, if he kept smiling like this, he would forget to brood.
Angel’s home was all open windows, just the way he liked it, kept warm by the roaring fire in the fireplace. The room smelled of night air and firewood and fresh bed linens mingled with the unmistakable scent of a horny human boy.
Angel was cradling the boy in his arm now, smiling down at him for something clever he had said about Spike. Spike was leaning over to say goodnight when he was hit by a sudden urge to kiss Angel on the mouth.
But of course. That was because Angel, just now, had swallowed a mouthful of Xander. His boy had, very quickly, become his favorite taste.
“You were amazing, pet. Unforgettable,” he crooned into the boy’s ear, then surprised himself by kissing the boy tenderly on the mouth. When he pulled away both Angel and Xander were looking at him in surprise.
“’Night!” he said and turned over to go to sleep.
No one commented; this was their established routine. Angel was the cuddler, Spike was the Big Bad.
The Big Bad did not cuddle.
Although he did, for a moment, feel a blaze of jealousy at the big poof, who always could snuggle a man in his arms as if he was a genteel lady. (And, although he could never admit it, he was jealous of Xander, too.)
But Spike didn’t care. Lulled by hard liquor and sated on the boy, he was ready for sleep.
He was quickly fading when he heard Angel ask the boy a question that made his eyes open immediately.
“Who cut you here?”
“That? That’s uh...….that’s where Cordelia scratched me….that girl can be scarier than…”
“You told Will it was from fixing Buffy's fence.”
“Um, well….yeah, it…..”
“This isn’t human and it isn’t wood. This is from a sharp knife,” Angel was saying quietly, tenderly. “Don’t lie to us about injuries, Xander. We‘ve inflicted too many to count.”
William turned to look at his lovers laying within arms reach of him. Xander was on his back and looking with great interest at the ceiling. Angel was gently stroking the light lines that ran along the boy’s right pectoral, the longest one cutting across the slightly crooked nipple.
“Was it your dad?” Angel asked, gently, without any anger, as if it didn’t matter to him, but Spike knew better. He watched intently, wondering if Angel could get their tight-lipped boy to answer the question.
Xander didn‘t answer. “Was it during a fight?” He shook his head no.
“Xander, did you do this yourself?”
“No,” Xander whispered. He lifted his hand to touch the scars in the crook of his right arm. “I only do it here, when I cut myself.”
“Then who did it?”
Xander turned his head and looked at Spike in desperation. Spike reached over to touch the boy’s face and tried to speak. But torn between something sarcastic or something comforting (or just telling the Big Poofta to shut the fuck up) he wound up stroking Xander’s cheek and saying nothing at all.
“It was my dad,” the boy finally admitted, still looking at Spike, speaking so quietly only a vampire would have heard him.
“Why did your dad want to cut through your nipple?” Angel was asking lovingly, tenderly, but when Xander tried to turn into his embrace to hide his face the stronger man held him back with powerful hands. “No, answer my question.”
Xander looked desperately at the ceiling, and for a moment Spike thought he would just refuse to answer. Finally he spoke, trying to sound casual, but when he did his voice was broken.
“It was just nothing, I came home one day and I was talking about Jesse, how we were going to do something cool, something stupid like start a band or... he got mad and said that Jesse and I were gay. Which apparently meant we were having sex. He said we were “gay for each other” and that he wouldn’t have no faggots in his house.
“Which made me mad, ‘cause I thought he was saying Jesse couldn’t come over to the house anymore, and I started to argue so he took a kitchen knife and cut me a couple times here,” he said, pointing to the four white lines. “Then he said…..”
His voice faltered, then he took a shuddering breath to say “...he said that took care of it, because now Jesse wouldn’t want to suck my titties anymore.”
“Then what did he do?”
“Nothing, he just grabbed a beer and went to his room.”
“What did your mum do?” Spike asked.
“She put a clean bandage on it and gave me some fruit roll-ups.”
Angel put a loving hand on Xander’s chin and turned his head just an inch so that he was looking the boy in the eyes.
He was a master manipulator, Spike thought, so it was no surprise that Angel could effortlessly say the things that Xander needed to hear; that his father was a disturbed man, threatened by his son’s competence and intelligence and using the most shameful words in his vocabulary as weapons, not because they had any real meaning but because they were the only words that he knew. And for a moment Spike was grateful that Angel was actually there since, if it had just been Spike alone, the only comfort he would have been able to give would be promises to maim and kill.
Finally Angel pulled the boy into a comforting embrace. “Thank you for telling me the truth,” he whispered, kissing the boy on the head.
“I’m sorry I’m damaged goods,” Xander whispered back, laying down on his back again, where Spike and his grandsire both put their hands on his chest to disagree with him.
“And I could make these go away, if you want,” Angel offered, explaining the healing properties of vampiric blood after an injury, running his finger along the lines across Xander’s chest, across the crook of his arm.
“Can you make my nipple not-crooked?” Xander asked casually, extending out an arm to Spike who was now pressing up against his side, (the talk of cutting and blood-sharing turning him on all over again.)
Angel pushed up to hold himself over Xander’s body (moving Spike out of the way) and looking at Xander’s chest straight on. He said “It doesn’t look bad. From here they both look the same.”
“You’ve got Angel checkin’ you out AGAIN, pet,” Spike murmured in his ear. “Must mean you really ARE a yummy snack.”
Xander turned his head to meet Spike in a kiss, then turned to Angel and, straight-faced, said “Can you fix my belly-button? I want to have an outy so I can get a really sexy piercing that all the girls will love.”
Spike and Xander snickered when Angel looked at the boy’s navel as if seriously considering the suggestion.
“I don’t think there’s any way to reverse it….”
“But it’s too big." Xander insisted, still pretending to be serious. "I want a tiny little girly one like Spike has.”
“You’re just jealous of my sixpack, love,” Spike said stretching back, moving away from the too-snuggly pair. Angel, all smiles and wrinkled-eyes, was now stroking the boy’s navel for fuck’s sake.
“You’ll be all right,” Angel was saying, his eyes sparkling, gently stroking the light sprinkling of body hair that grew over the center of the young man’s belly, circling his belly-button before narrowing to a point of the beginning of his treasure line.
“Soon you’ll have a hairy tummy and no one will even see the freakishly big hole in the middle.”
“But Will will keep sticking his tongue in it.”
“Well, Will likes to stick his tongue in things.”
Again, Spike snorted.
“Will’s just jealous,” Angel murmured in a conspirator’s tone, "because he was turned before he grew any body hair, and now it’s too late.”
William mumbled something appropriately caustic and closed his eyes, only to find Xander had lunged over to hug him fiercely. He returned the embrace in alarm.
“I envy your foreskin, too,” Xander whispered directly into his ear, and Spike looked at him in confusion.
Then he gave up trying to understand, hugged the boy back, kissed him soundly on his ear, and said, “You're amazing, pet. Unforgettable.”
“You’re welcome,” Spike said, kissing him again and slapping his ass. “Now…..go away.”
Cheerfully Xander returned to Angel’s embrace with Spike rolling his eyes, then closing them. He was far too tired (not to mention emotionally overwhelmed) for banter or reassurances or thinking. This was the most afterplay than he had participated in to date; he was usually unconscious by now.
The other two, he assumed, would snuggle for a while and then go to sleep.
He was surprised to hear that he was wrong.
There was a movement, the shifting of one body turning to lie in the arms of the other body, then Xander’s sleepy voice, pressed up against Angel’s chest murmured, “Tell me a story.”
Spike heard Angel sigh. Then, much to his surprise and horror, he heard the vampire comply.
“Ok. I find him at his work,”
“He doesn’t have a job right now.”
“FINE, I FIND him a job, let him get hired, give him one day on the job, and THEN I find him at work….”
Spike looked back at the two, stunned. Was this what always happened while he slept? He saw the human absurdly snuggled up to Angel’s chest, his hand up against his face like a child, eyes closed, asking questions.
“I would make him walk naked through the city….”
“Aren’t you going to hang him over the hellmouth?”
“Not yet. But I WOULD hang him from his feet for a while, at least until he threw up.”
“People throw up if you hang them by their feet?”
“They do if they’ve eaten, so I’ll feed him a big meal first. THEN I’d cut his ears off and have him walk through the city so that everyone can laugh at him….”
“Why are they laughing at him?”
“Because I carved “tittes” over his chest.
“But if you cut off his ears then he can’t hear what the people say.”
“Yes he can, you can lose a lot of ear-tissue before you interfere with the actual eardrum. But you’re right, all the blood might clog up his hearing. So I’ll just put out his eyes. That way he’ll never know how many people are laughing at him and how many people are just turning away in disgust……”
The bedtime story went on like this for a while, ending with Xander’s hated father hanging over the hellmouth, the hand that cut Xander sliced off, bleeding into the mouths of monsters as the man screamed in horror above them……happily ever after The End. After that Spike heard nothing from the boy. Soon, he knew, the human was sleeping.
“So, when are we going to do it,” he asked.
Angel started. He had, quite obviously, forgotten that Spike was there.
“Kill the bastard. When do you want to do it?” But Angel only shook his head.
“Why the fuck not........Buffy?”
“No…..the slayer will find a way to ignore what she doesn’t want to know. This isn’t about her, this is about Xander.
“If the abusive parent is murdered the child always feels confusion and guilt. Trust me, I’ve been through it before. It’s just human nature,” Angel said, his face full of that normal, brooding seriousness Spike was used to.
“He doesn’t HAVE to stay human…..” the younger vampire began, but was silenced with a deadly stare from his grandsire.
“Oh, EXCUSE me, it’s like that then.” Spike said, turning away in disgust. “But if it IS like that,” he said, shooting up a moment later, “Then maybe I SHOULD do the tosser in. Chip won’t mind if I haul a piano onto a roof, maybe wouldn’t mind if I drop it….”
“But what about Xander?!” Angel hissed, demon flashing.
“Maybe the whelp needs a little unhappiness,” Spike hissed back. “’Cause if there’s any more happiness ‘round here, a fellow might wake up to Angelus and a dead body in his bed!”
Angel’s game face faded like a shadow. Angsty and broody, he turned his eyes away and lay back next to his boy.
“That won’t happen. I won’t lose my soul again,” he said finally.
“You sayin’ the little one don’t make you PERFECTLY happy??”
“No,” he murmured, his lips laying against his boy’s hair. “Not as long as I have to share him with you.”