Who Wants to Live Forever
Spike let Xander push him down onto the mattress. Xander leaned in and kissed him for a very long time, his tongue lazily mapping the inside of Spike’s mouth. Then Xander rose, and lay on his side next to Spike. He thoughtfully ran his hand down Spike’s chest. Chuckled. “No idea where to begin here.”
“The kissing part was working for me, pet,” Spike said from a dry throat, “we could do some more of that.”
So they did.
After a time, Xander found his hands wandering. They seemed to want to touch things. Xander let them. Happily surprised to find that the touching made him feel good, and caused Spike to make little sexy noises.
“How’re we doing here, buddy?” he murmured against Spike’s cheek.
“Mmmmxlt,” said Spike. He nuzzled Xander’s neck, licking over and over at the pulse point. “Warm. Nummy. Treat,” he said happily.
Xander laughed. “You make me sound like a Pop Tart.”
“Pet, you are NOT junk food,” said Spike. He slid one cool hand under the edge of Xander’s t-shirt and over a hard nipple. Xander shivered.
“Well,” he whispered. “You know you are what you eat.” He nimbly unbuttoned Spike’s shirt and slid it aside. Ran a finger down the vampire’s alabaster chest. It looked so smooth, he had to run his tongue over it as well. Spike moaned and slid his hand to gently clasp the back of Xander’s neck.
“Never tasted you before,” Xander said, as if to himself. “Tried to imagine it, couldn’t remember.” He ran his tongue in little circles around a pink nipple, watched it harden, gave it another lick, felt Spike shiver.
“You tried to remember?” Spike said, in a low emotional voice. Xander looked up at the suddenly vulnerable blue eyes. He felt the wave of tears threatening again, and bent to lap at the cool marble skin.
“No, I tried to forget.” Xander rested his forehead against Spike’s chest. He struggled against his emotions. “But I couldn’t stop dreaming of you…” his throat closed over the words. He touched his lips to Spike’s skin, feeling the vampire’s hand stroking his neck. “Used to dream of this…” whispered Xander. He rubbed his nose against Spike’s throat, wrote a little ‘u’ under the adams apple. “Used to dream and pretend I didn’t dream…”
“Missed you too, Xan,” Spike said in a tight whisper. Xander nodded and moved his head back up into a kiss. Spike grabbed his head and responded passionately, his tongue and lips devouring him. The kiss went on and on.
Xander pulled away, gasping. “Have to breathe!” he said, smiling and shaking his head. Spike saw tears glistening in the dark eyes, and smiled back.
“Too bad, mortal. How come you can talk non-stop for hours on end, but you can’t hold your breath for two minutes?”
“How come,” said Xander, grinning, “how come the hair on your head grows but your beard doesn’t?”
“How come you can read demonic languages, but can’t get into a college?”
“How come you have no circulation,” Xander whispered seductively, “but you can still get hard?”
Spike’s lustful eyes widened, and he grimaced with exaggerated exasperation. “Oi, you gotta ask your vampire jeopardy questions now Xan?”
“Gotta know these things, Spike.” Xander let his hand slide down to play piano over Spike’s cock. The vampire arched and smiled at him.
“The best, bloodbreath.”
“I know it.” A shade of something flew through Spike’s eyes and Xander paused, his hand stilled. He lowered his head to Spike’s shoulder and felt the muscles there move as the vampire wrapped his arms around him. The difficult emotions began rising in Xander again, and he buried his head in Spike’s neck as the vampire rocked him. Xander mouthed the skin of Spike’s chin, and his hands began wandering again. “You’re so cool, Spike, and I’m so hot,” Xander said thickly. “I need to feel you. Need to feel your skin.”
Xander’s hands became more demanding. He yanked at Spike’s shirt and began pushing at the waistband of his jeans. Spike obligingly arched up and undid the buttons, wriggling the jeans down. Xander pulled impatiently at his own shirt murmuring, “Need to feel you. Need to hold you and feel you.”
They peeled the remainder of their clothing off desperately, flinging articles to the floor around the bed. Xander sat back and gazed at the naked vampire spread out before him. He was amazed at how his mouth watered at the sight. Spike lay wantonly spread across the dark sheets. His unnaturally white skin seemed to glow. As he arched seductively, the muscles in his abdomen tightened and rippled. His cock bobbed happily, already dripping, against his belly. Xander crawled up so that he was kneeling over it. “Oh look,” he whispered. “I found a toy for Xander.” He leaned over and licked along one side of Spike’s cock in a broad sweep, from the base to the tip. Spike squirmed and groaned, as much at the sight of Xander bent over him, as at the sensation.
“Not a toy,” growled the vampire, warningly. He thrust his hips suggestively. “It’s a working tool, mate.”
“Yeah? How do I work it?” Xander eased down on his belly between Spike’s legs. He ran a finger over the heavy length. “Oh Spike. Tsk. You’re all wet,” he said, his finger swirling dribbling precum over the head.
Spike groaned. He lay back on the mattress and gripped the sheets with both hands. “Clean me up, luv?” he suggested in a husky voice.
Xander looked up, met Spike’s eyes and slowly and deliberately lowered his mouth over the swollen head. He licked all around the edge and pulled back with a loud schlurp. “Yum,” he pronounced, never breaking eye contact. He wrapped his hand firmly around the base of the shaft and laved his tongue over the head again. Around and around, long firm wet strokes. “Yummy Spike pop,” said Xander, his eyes glittering up at Spike.
“God. Yeah,” breathed Spike, staring transfixed at this vision.
“Oh look. Its like a little turtleneck,” Xander murmured to himself. He played with the foreskin, first with his finger, then his tongue. Spike fell back and thrashed a bit, and Xander carefully held his hips still as he experimentally slid his tongue under the edge of the foreskin and circled Spike’s dick with his tongue buried there. Spike cried out. Xander pulled away with a triumphant slurp.
“Oh. I made you squeek,” said Xander happily.
“God, Xander,” Spike pleaded, “Please. Oh my sweet Christ. Pleasssse.”
“Begging is good, too,” said Xander calmly to himself. He wrapped his mouth firmly around Spike’s shaft and slid down as far as he could. His throat clenched suddenly around the thick intrusion, so he stopped and concentrated on relaxing, then slowly pushed a little further down. Spike was muttering above him, his hands wandering on the sheets. Xander carefully pushed another centimeter of dick down his throat, reached up and caught Spike’s hands in his. He placed them firmly on his head and sucked hard, looking up at Spike, who moaned and thrust involuntarily. Xander gagged again, then grabbed Spike’s hips and held them down. Xander was applying as much suction as possible now, sliding up and down the wet shaft, his tongue flicking rapidly across the head whenever he drew back. He was trying to imagine what his actions would feel like on his own dick, which was sympathetically hardening and throbbing. He shifted up on his knees and grabbed hold of it desperately, pulling hard while sucking Spike. The vampire gasped, when he looked down; saw his hands holding the dark head, the dark eyes staring up at him, while Xander sucked avidly on his cock and pulled himself off. He felt his balls tighten.
“Xander,” he pushed frantically at the silky hair, “Xander, I’m gonna cum,” he panted. Xander plunged yet further down his dick, his hand slid up and caressed Spike’s sac and Spike threw both hands out onto the mattress, arched his hips and came with a cry.
Xander gagged as the cool semen spurted into his throat. But he did not release or let up on the suction. Gallantly swallowing as much as he could, the rest filling his mouth and spilling down his chin. He felt Spike shiver with sensitivity and gently released him. His own cock was still hard and he was on the verge, desperately pulling and groaning. The sight of the satisfied vampire laying under him was driving him mad.
Spike’s eyes opened and he chuckled. “No no love. Stop that.” He pulled Xander down on top of him. “None of that while I’m here, Xan.”
Xander groaned, wriggled, twisted his hips and drove himself against Spike. Spike firmly pushed them up and over so that he was lying on top of Xander. He felt his cock beginning to harden again, and began a gentle friction against Xander’s length with his own. Xander writhed and moaned and clutched at Spike. He pulled Spike’s head down with one hand and kissed him avidly. Spike tasted his own jism in the man’s mouth. He carefully licked Xander’s face clean, while the other man grinned and wiggled against him. “You taste good, donchya Spike,” he said seductively. He thought again about sucking Spike off, and felt another wave of need wash through him. He wrapped his arms firmly around the vampire.
‘Closer,” he panted “Hold me closer.”
Spike arched and thrust, sliding his length with firm strokes against Xander’s, then leaning down to spread himself over Xander, burying his face in the silky hair, licking the sweaty face with an eager tongue. He was fully hard again. He glanced down quickly and saw his white swollen shaft rubbing against Xander’s cock, dark red with arousal. They were slippery with spit and precum, and Spike groaned at the sight. His hips picked up speed.
“Yeah,” whimpered Xander, matching Spike’s strokes. “Spike? Spike?” His hands seemed to grapple, mindless now, firmly caressing Spike’s back, kneading and rubbing Spike’s buttocks, pulling them into himself tighter and tighter. The rhythm between them escalating. “Spike?”
“Yeah,” Spike growled into Xander’s ear. “I’m here, Xander. I’m right here.”
“Hold me Spike,” Xander chanted, “don’t let go, don’t let go.”
He pushed, shuddering, up against the vampire over and over, as he repeated the words. Then froze and gasped. Spike felt warmth coating and slicking his own cock, and cried out with shock as the tsunami wave of another release crashed over him. He kept thrusting uncontrollably as Xander pressed against him, babbling, “don’t stop don’t stop hold me don’t stop.”
Gradually it subsided, and Spike fell into Xander. The two men lay together shaking, letting the post orgasmic high drift through them. Xander was still murmuring. “Spike?”
“What is it luv?”
“Hold on to me, Spike. Don’t stop holding on to me.”
“Never,” Spike whispered into Xander’s neck. “Never.”
Xander relaxed into the bed and Spike lay across him. As sleep began to take the mortal, Spike snagged a blanket and pulled it over them both.
Spike was downstairs, staring bemusedly into the refrigerator when Giles found him. He had tucked Xander firmly under the blanket and nicked down to the kitchen for a quick feed. But his mind kept drifting to thoughts of Xander, distracting him as he attempted the simple task. He had just about decided to bugger the whole excursion and hurry back up to his warm human, when Giles appeared in the doorway.
“Ah. Spike.” Giles stopped, struck. Spike stood in the light of the refrigerator. Old faded jeans and a threadbare rockgroup t-shirt hung loosely on his slender frame. His hair stuck up in soft curls around his head, and wide cornflower blue eyes crinkled at the corners with humor. The ingenuous face he turned to Giles was filled with affection and trust. He looked like someone’s son searching the fridge for leftover pizza, not a one hundred and twenty year old multiple murderer. Giles grappled once more with the incongruity.
“Rupert!” said Spike, gesturing politely towards the blood bags, “Care for a cuppa?”
Giles laughed. It helped. He removed his glasses, effectively blurring the confusing image before him. “Spike, can I have a word with you?” “Sure man, sure.” Spike snatched a bag and tossed it in the microwave. He was eager to get back to Xander, but he could stop to hear the Watcher out. He leaned against the counter while the blood warmed and looked expectantly at Giles. “Whatcha want?”
“Perhaps in the living room?” said Giles, gesturing.
Spike’s eyebrow went up. “Watchery words, huh Rupert?” he said slowly. Then sighed. “Ah yeah, I gotta minute.” He removed his mug from the microwave, then followed Giles, reluctantly shuffling past the stairway leading back up to Xander, my Xander, he crooned to himself.
Willow was waiting in the living room. Oh buggering hell, Spike cursed to himself when he spotted her, Spikies been a bad vampire. “Look, Watcher,” he began, defending himself quickly, “Red.” He nodded, “if it’s about that little incident with the new Slayer, I swear I did not know…”
“It’s alright, Spike,” Giles interrupted gently, “it’s not about that.” He sighed and turned to the bar. Began mixing a drink. “Though in a way it is about that. And other things.”
Spike sat in a chair and looked from one to the other. Every instinct in his dead body was twitching and tingling. He had a strong, violent urge to bolt from the room, but from the expression on Willow’s face he guessed that had been anticipated. He set his mug down with a hand steady by strength of will and asked carefully, “Alright, you two, this ain’t my birthday, so whuts the surprise?”
Giles seated himself in the chair across from him. He offered a glass of Scotch to Spike. The vampire waved it aside impatiently. “I’ve been having some difficult communications with the Council all week, Spike,” he began reluctantly.
“What’d the wankers bugger up this time?”
“Well,” Giles rolled his glass between his palms, “they have had some concerns.” He forced himself to look at Spike. “They have had some concerns about you.”
Spike forced himself to stillness. “Don’t much like those pillocks having any thoughts about me at all, Rupert,” he stated quietly.
“No, I’m sure you don’t.” Giles noted the tension in the vampire’s hands and arms, as they lay still as death on the arms of the chair. He felt cold, fearful sweat prickling under his arms. He was extremely aware that the only thing between himself and a super strong, potentially raging demon, was a sorely tried soul and a warding spell Willow had grudgingly dropped over him.
“What’s this about, then?” Spike asked lightly. His tone made the hair stand up on Giles’ arms. He swallowed.
“Maurice has said some things.”
“And the whole incident with Angelus.”
“Angel?” Spike came forward in his chair, “What the hell have I got to do with that fucking madman?”
Giles gritted his teeth. “The Council is concerned,” he had to force himself to look Spike in the eye, “that history might repeat itself.” There was a stunned silence. Spike gaped at him; shock, outrage and finally fury on his face. “Rupert!” he cried, “Angel’s insane!”
“As have you been.”
“He’s a psychopathic killer!”
“As have you been.”
“But I have a soul now!”
“Angel had a soul. It didn’t stop him from torturing and murdering hundreds of innocent people,” continued Giles sadly.
“Fucking hell, Watcher, it’s not the same thing at all!” Spike was out of his chair now, pacing the room with long strides. “Angelus hated that soul! It was an abomination! It drove his demon mad. It was just a matter of time before Angel snapped …”
“The Council fears…”
“They think it’s the same with me?” Spike gestured to himself indignantly, “Rupert, my demon wanted this soul. I’m not seeking this redemption because of a curse; this path was not forced on me by some loopy gypsy. I chose this soul. I wanted it.” He stopped and looked in bewildered amazement from Giles to Willow. “Can’t they see the difference?” he pleaded, “Can’t they?”
“You are of the line of Aurelius…”
“You share the same demon as Angelus.”
“Bloody Buggering Fuck Watcher, can you not see, can none of you stupid idiots see, that there is more to a vampire than a demon inhabiting a corpse? I am nothing like Angel!” Spike began stomping about again, with increasing violence. Giles exchanged a concerned look with Willow. She nodded imperceptibly. Everything was under control, that nod said. Spike stopped. He looked at Willow closely. “Sooo…” he whirled and stared again at Giles. “What have the arseholes come up with as a fix?” His rage had apparently dissipated, but Giles felt himself tensing. Spike’s stance had become more subtle as he circled he and Willow, all feline grace. Giles saw Willow tensing slightly as she recognized the predator.
Giles rose slowly from his chair, prepared to keep Spike in the room, or run away, he wasn’t sure which. “They had two alternatives.”
Spike stopped, folded his arms and regarded him. “They’re givin’ me a choice.”
“In a manner of speaking.”
“Well? Cough it up Watcher.”
“The chip,” Giles got out. He made himself stand steady. “They want us to re-install the chip.”
Giles swore he could feel the chill anger emanating from the vampire.
“Or?” rumbled Spike
“Well, or a kind of exile, I suppose Spike.”
“You’d be on your own again. No more interaction with humans. Stay out of Dodge, I guess. The Slayer comes across you…”
“She stakes me,” Spike finished for him, flatly.
Giles looked down. “Yes.”
“How the fucking hell do they think I’ll live like that?” Spike enunciated slowly, “I can’t feed. I can’t. It would KILL me to feed. I can’t live with other vampires. I can barely stand demons. This FUCKING soul which meant everything when Angel had it, and seems to mean nothing when Spike has it, won’t let me.”
“Yes, I believe they’ve considered that.” Giles looked at Spike meaningfully.
Spike studied him. “They don’t care how I would live,” he guessed slowly, “since they’d have the Slayer after me immediately.”
“Probably,” admitted Giles tiredly.
“Then the chip…” said Giles.
“The chip is NOT an option, Rupert!”
Giles looked up at Spike. “You really don’t have any other choices, Spike,” he explained carefully. “They really aren’t giving you another option.”
Spike hissed. Yellow flashed in his eyes, and Giles felt as though he was looking into the face of a one hundred eighty pound python. Spike swiveled his head and stared at Willow. Willow stared back. “How much mojo, Red,” Spike growled malevolently, “how much mojo does it take to hold a master vampire still while you force an aberration into his FUCKING BRAIN?!?!?” He advanced on her a couple of steps. Giles made to step forward, but Willow looked calmly back at Spike. The vampire seemed to be studying her, almost sniffing her. “How much mojo does it take to keep a master vampire from attacking?” he said cleverly. “How much does it take to keep him in a room?” He looked over towards the door, cocked an eyebrow. “Shall we find out?”
Willow regarded him calmly. “Bring it on, Mister,” she said.
Spike whirled and leapt and with vampire speed, left the room and vanished through the front door.
Giles watched him go, shocked. He spun about and stared at Willow. She was standing as before, looking at the empty doorway. She rolled her eyes at Giles.
“Oops,” she said, cutely.
Spike ran. Like the hounds of hell were on his tail, like the four horsemen of the apocalypse were hunting him, like all the furies and Zeus himself would catch him, Spike ran. He was in the factory district within minutes, and only paused to scale a building. Brick dust flew from his feet as he ran straight up the side and flew across a narrow gap to the next rooftop. He whirled and in a great arc of black, leapt through space to a building across the road. He gained momentum again after that, leaping from rooftop to rooftop. Below him the denizens of Sunnydale trudged on slow, oblivious feet.
Spike lifted a motocycle from the parking lot of a bar on the edge of town. He would have to dump it soon, he knew. It would be too easy to find him with it. But it would give him even more of a headstart. He stopped himself at the ‘Welcome to Sunnydale’ sign. Pushed a cautious foot forward, testing the boundary. Nothing inhibited him. He bowed his head. “Thanks, Red,” he whispered, and gunned the engine. He shifted the gears straight into fourth and flew past the sign and down the highway in a squeal of smoke and hot rubber on pavement.
Xander woke in a cocoon of warm wool. He struggled against the restriction and broke his arms free, feeling for vampire skin. Spike was missing, but Xander could feel the blanket snuggly encasing his feet and legs. He tucked me in, he thought delightedly. He rolled over and ran his hand across the cool pillow, snuggled into the indentation in the mattress. “Spike,” he murmured into the pillow, and the word made his stomach tingle and a warm ache throb in his crotch. “Spike?” Xander sat up, suddenly very much wanting his vampire. “Spike, where are you?” he whispered into the darkened room. He disentangled himself and slipped around the bed, retrieving clothes and pulling them on. In the dim light, he could see Spike’s duster flung across a chair. He would still be in the house then, Xander reasoned, and he padded out of the bedroom into the hallway. Sneaking in stocking feet, smiling to himself. Here comes the mighty vampire hunter, he thought giddily. He stalked down the stairs and stopped at the landing. Willow and Giles were standing in the entryway.
“I trust him, Giles,” said Willow calmly.
“Oh God, did you have to say that?” Giles exclaimed. “I only wish I could not remember how many times a woman has said that to me about a vampire.”
Vampire, registered Xander’s mind with alarm. “Hey guys,” he said cautiously. Willow looked up at him. Ouch. There was that dark look again. He tried to smile at her anyway. “Umm, who’s been trusting vampires?” he asked glibly. Willow’s glance lightened a bit.
“Hey, Xander.” She moved towards the kitchen. “Come down, I’ll make some dinner,” she called as she walked.
“Dinner?” Giles followed her gesticulating wildly. “How can you be worrying about dinner? We have set god-knows-what out there onto the world, and we are going to sit and eat dinner?”
Xander came behind him into the kitchen, peering around the house as he went. No Spike to be seen. He slid into a chair in the kitchen. “Uh, hey,” he said, as casually as he could. “Where’s Spike?”
Giles turned and pointed at Xander. “Exactly,” he said. Xander gave him the ‘huh?’ look. Giles turned back to Willow. “Have you thought about this decision, Mistress Rosenberg?” he said pointedly. “Aside from the advisedness of your actions this evening,” he waved his arm furiously at some unknown concept, “have you thought about the relationship between the coven and the Council, and how this could harm that alliance?”
“It won’t come to that, Giles,” said Willow, drawing a pan from the cupboard.
“When they hear that you deliberately set loose…”
“Excuse me, Rupert,” Willow set her pan down and turned towards the man, “how are they going to hear that?”
Giles sighed and rubbed his forehead. “Well, what will we tell them about Spike?” “Uh, Spike?” Xander piped up, a feeling of dread in his belly. “What’s going on with Spike?”
“Everything is going to be fine,” said Willow, turning back to her cooking. She spared a glance at Xander. “I’ll explain it over dinner,” she said briefly. She reached into a drawer and drew out a large fork, then began poking the thing in the pan fiercely. “Giles,” she said intently, “I told you. I trust him.”
“God! I beseach you to stop saying that!”
“But where’s Spike?” Xander asked meekly. Giles gave him a dark look and left the kitchen.
Spike stood on a cliff overlooking the ocean, somewhere between Oxnard and Santa Barbara. The lights of a carnival wavered in the offshore winds on the boardwalk below him. Spike marveled at how much like the gaslights of a nineteenth century London borough, seemed the electrical lights of a town in twenty-first century America. It was all a matter of distance. The further he removed himself from things, the less distinct they seemed from one another, until the whole mortal coil blended together like some misfired bottle rocket.
Spike worked his shoulders in a circle, feeling the absence of his duster. He leaned dispiritedly against a tree and wished for a cigarette. He was hungry. The adrenaline of flight had worn off, and he had used a lot of energy to get here. He needed to feed, and he didn’t have any means to find blood. Any means but one, he thought, gazing down at the crowded carnival. He felt a gag of revulsion in his throat and knew he would not be eating this night.
He concentrated on planning a stategy for escaping the country. He purposely blocked all thoughts of humans, their blood, their warmth, their soft brown eyes. Spike shook himself roughly and dragged his bare foot harshly against something sharp on the ground. It helped him focus. Damn, he wanted his boots. He’d have to nick some tomorrow, he realized. He wished with a sudden intensity that he’d had five more minutes. To grab his duster and boots, to kiss Xander, to explain. Spike jerked himself away from that thought again, but it pursued him.
He leaned against the tree and saw Xander before him. His lashes still damp with tears, his eyes huge and awestruck by some emotion Spike dare not hope for. Spike would never see his own reflection in those soft dark depths, but he felt himself there. He felt himself there as something solid and real to which Xander clung. He had never felt more present in the world than he had on this night, he realized. The thought made him clutch his head, spin around and kick furiously at the tree with his bare foot. It didn’t hurt enough however, so he tried banging his head. That also was not enough. Spike hissed furiously to himself. “Food. Fucking food. Fucking fragile human food.” He punctuated the last words by slugging the tree furiously with his fist. Spent, he stood for a moment, looking down once more at the lights below. As brief as fireflies on a summer’s night, they were to him. Spike sighed, and turned to slide down the hill to where he had stashed the motorcycle. If he rode hard he might make it back before Xander woke up.
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