To Be Claimed

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Ptijade—Of course I’m evil! Spike was my favorite well before the chip, and I despised him with a soul. Makes such a bad good guy and such a great bad guy. *purrs*

Thank you for reviewing Ptijade, makes me feel slightly loved. *kerblinku* 200 hits and one review? *sniffles* No love?! No love for the poor full-time work/part-time school girl just now starting training for a promotion?! Be happy that I like to unwind my stress by writing for myself, and then being oh so kind to post for you all. PFBT!

This update’s quick in response to both the cliff-hanger and the fact that I think I took too long on the last update. Hehehe, anyway, like I said, I just needed a bit of sleep since today’s a funny day, and I have night shift schedule change for a few weeks. Goddess RL is going to be interesting for a while.

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“Mom?” Xander held back a wince at hearing his shrill voice break. He hadn’t seen his mother since moving out … hell, had barely seen her since ….

“Baby,” she stepped forward, ignoring Spike’s faint growling, and set a trembling hand on Xander’s cheek. Xander blinked, a sudden tightness in his chest freezing him. She’d barely talked to him for nearly ten years, let alone called him her ‘baby.’

“What’s wrong, momma?” Oh, he hated this. His voice was still high and rough and sounded so tiny to his ears. But something was wrong, terribly wrong if his mother was here. He’d never told her where any of his apartments were. He’d never made contact since moving out. What was going on?

“You’re bonded,” and she smiled. There was a tear streaking down her cheek, but she smiled so happily. And he hadn’t seen that smile since he was nine. She blinked and stepped back, becoming just another disheveled woman and not his mother. “May I come in?” she said. And it wasn’t directed at him; she was looking at Spike. His Master blinked, took a quick look between the two, and lifted his chin in agreement, a look of confusion flitting across his brow. Xander stepped back, and the small woman he’d associated with so many feelings easily entered his home.

“What’s yer mum doin’ here, pet?” Spike murmured as she took a quick walk-about of the main room. Xander shrugged, his eyes tracking her every movement. He took comfort in the solid form of his Master at his side. Everything in his head and body was screaming that this was not going to be a fun visit.

“They’re coming.” She was running her fingers over the spine of an old book. Didn’t bother turning when Spike rolled his eyes and threw himself across the couch. Xander let his Master tug him down to the floor next to him. His Master’s arm draped over one shoulder, though Xander’s eyes still watched his mother.

“What?” He could tell that his Master was going to stay out of this. Spike had found a cigarette and was busy trying to light it without giving up his hold on Xander. The chill that had settled on him earlier melted just a bit under that possessive grip. He leaned back enough that Spike could wrap the arm all the way around his neck and use both hands to set lighter to cigarette to mouth. They both relaxed into that position even after Spike had put the lighter away.

“The Council, the usurpers,” she turned, “the Queen.” Dark eyes followed every move Spike made: the slight twitching of fingers over claim mark, the rough exhalation of smoke.

“Why?” Xander had never met another Mar’geshun. They’d not bothered with his birth, nor his mother’s grief, nor his near-death. Why now?

“They thought you were dead, Alexander.” He flinched, his eyes wide. His Master growled and shifted closer still. “You should not have survived, and yet, you did.” And he could see the infinite pain in her eyes. The lost-girl look that he’d started avoiding all those years ago. Oh, god. He’d survived. And she hadn’t.

“Mom,” and his voice was back to that tight, broken sound, and she was falling, collapsing in a near-by chair. Spike didn’t offer any resistance as Xander scrambled up and nearly crawled to his mother. She latched onto him, grip stronger than her stature suggested, and fought the tears that threatened. Xander let his breathing hitch with hers. He felt his Master quietly coming up to them. He nodded slightly as Spike settled a hand just under his shirt and began rubbing small circles into the tight muscles of his back.

“They thought she was dead, and no one came. They thought you were dead, and no one came. And now,” she gasped, the sound painful to listen to, “now you’re bonded, and they’ll come, Alex. They’ll come.” And he got it. No one had been there for the births because that was expected. No surprise. And they hadn’t come for the deaths because … well, he didn’t know that yet. But they knew when he’d been born. And they knew he’d bonded. And his age was so wrong for it that they’d have to know. They’d assumed the Royal line was dead and gone, and now he pops back with a Master and no connections to them. Oh, this was going to be the ultimate in Royal scandals. He couldn’t fight the snicker. He knew it was slightly hysterical. His mother pulled back sharply.

“A Royal bastard out of the woodwork. And not, cause I’m the true heir, and they never knew. And they’ve had nearly five years to name a proper successor, except there would have been in-fights and scandals and bribes and all sorts of political backtalk and backstabbing. And goddess, they’re going to ask questions, and we’ve changed the way the power works, haven’t we, mom?” His voice choked, and he let his Master grab him back and cradle him in strong arms. How much worse was this going to get?

“You need protection, Alexander,” she whispered. They both flinched at the sudden growl that rolled over them from Spike. He snarled at her, yet didn’t move from the subtle rocking he was using to sooth Xander. Her eyes dropped, and she twisted her hands. “I mean no disrespect, Master of my child.” And Xander had never heard of any protocol toward other masters, though there was apparently something. “I simply mean to say that there will be numerous Mar’geshun with numerous causes and expectations arriving here, very soon, and that my son, the Crown Prince, will not know half of what is happening nor what is expected.” She looked up, dark eyes begging his Master. “I was remiss in his training once she died, and that is no excuse. But now … now he needs someone who can maneuver politics, and quickly. I simply hoped that a Master Vampire such as yourself would have someone in his Clan that would help. I was suggesting taking him to your Sire or your Clan’s Master and…” she huddled back in her chair at the reemergence of the snarling growl.

“Damn Clan is me and me insane Sire and her souled pouf of a Sire. Bleedin’ broody tosser with no…” Spike almost literally bit his tongue as Xander touched a sweat-slick hand to his arm. Blue eyes flickering with angry gold watched him intently.

“Master, he may be a tosser, but…?” he flinched as the calming touches tightened threateningly. He dropped his eyes. “But he may be … persuaded to help.” His eyes flicked up at the lack of response. “We could taunt him and guilt him and make him save the poor, helpless pet who seems to have gotten himself into a great political war.” He tried his best puppy eyes—the ones Willow refused to look at any more. Spike’s lip curled in distaste, even as his body relaxed.

“Whatever, pet.” And Xander kept his sudden laughter inside. The vampire had fallen into sulky valley speak. He tucked his head under his Master’s chin, to keep his sudden levity hidden. His mother touched his arm softly. She looked back up at Spike after a fond glance at Xander.

“You must leave tonight. They have a lock on this place, but they’ll follow his trail quickly enough.” She leaned forward and placed a soft kiss on Xander’s cheek. “I have to go.” And Xander could hear the desolate loneliness. He returned her kiss and stood with Spike at his back. They walked her to the door, and he had a sudden fear that he might never see her again. Which was odd, since he’d cut all ties and left her first. But this. This felt so much more final. She turned and pulled Xander from Spike’s arms. They both blinked as she stepped into his Master’s space. “You ever hurt him and you’ll beg for sunlight, vampire.” She was out the door and gone before either man could muster a response. Spike cocked his head at the swinging door.

“Nice family, pet. Wot’s next? Yer pop’s gonna threaten me with a shotgun?” There was a smile stretching across Spike’s face. A truly amused smile, not the hard smirks that were normally there. It faltered a bit at Xander’s sudden frown.

“If my mom’s Master,” he emphasized the title, “were to come anywhere near you, I’d kill him myself.” And Spike blinked.

“Right.” There was a moment of tense silence. “Gonna have ta pack quick if we wanna get out of here with early night. Peaches ain’t gonna take this well.” Xander huffed out a soft laugh and smiled before turning. “And don’t pack none of them shirts that I’ll have ta burn, pet,” his Master called after him. Goddess, this was going to be a long night.

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So, I think we've found where the Xander-babble comes from. And now, we're finally moving toward one of the scenes that's been dancing in my head for weeks. Whoo!