Cause and Effect

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Chapter Thirteen
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Xander paced the sidewalk in front of his apartment building restlessly. Arms folded tightly across his chest as he strode from one end of the precisely marked yard to the other, the meticulously straight edges of the lawn making no more impression on him than as a signal that he should spin around and head the opposite direction.

He'd called Angel Investigations, talking with his erstwhile nemesis over an hour ago, and while several of his problems had been solved by that brief, but all too long call, he was still left wrestling with several internal, not to be voiced dilemmas -- not the least of which was his-ever growing desire to protect and coddle the vampire that had been alternately a thorn in his side and a verbal sparring partner for the vast majority of his adult life.

He hadn't mentioned the blood sharing -- either Spike's or his **And again *EWW*.** -- to Angel. Once on the phone to the original souled vampire, Xander had found those were two things he was especially lo to to mention. It had taken every ounce of his sense of what was right and wrong to even call the LA vampire in the first place. Only the two facts that he was woefully out of his depth, and that there was no one else he could call to get the help he so obviously needed, had gotten him on the phone in the first place. Mentioning things that, in his humble opinion, didn't seem worth mentioning, went beyond the pale of helping the helpless -- as the saying went.

He stopped suddenly, looking up to stare at his second story window. William was up there -- in *his* apartment -- and he was down here, pacing along the sidewalk, where any demon who wanted to come along could try and have a taste of him. He frowned. There was something *really* wrong with that. Why *was* he down here?

Oh, yeah. He didn't want to face Spike. He sighed. This was getting him nowhere fast -- other than wearing him out. Sucking in a deep breath, Xander squared his shoulders and strode toward the building door; standing out here all night wasn't going to accomplish anything. And he certainly didn't want to be waiting outside when Angel arrived. He didn't even want to think about how embarrassing *that* would be.

Xander, afraid to go into his own apartment -- not because something there might hurt or kill him -- no. Instead, it was because he was afraid the something in his apartment *didn't* want to kill him.

**

Willow frowned tightly, muttering quiet imprecations most people never heard pass her lips. This was the third book she'd looked in that referenced the spell she'd used, but she still hadn't figured out why it hadn't worked. Everything she'd read, both earlier and tonight, told her it *should* have worked exactly as they wanted it to.

"Damn!" she swore, slamming the book closed. She *knew* she'd performed it right. She hadn't done anything wrong -- not a single gesture mis-made, herb wrongly included, or word mis-spoken. So, why?

"What's wrong?"

An immediate smile formed, turning up the corners of her mouth as she tilted her head up and ghosted her lips across Tara's in a genuine, if distracted, kiss. "Tara," she breathed happily, even as her smile faded, her worry quickly overriding her happiness.

Tara reached out a gentle hand, lightly caressing her cheek. "What's wrong, baby?"

Leaning into the welcome caress, Willow sighed, quickly outlining the strange and disturbing events of the night -- including her own frustration that sometime, somewhere, she'd read the reason the spell hadn't worked.

Tara smiled. "That's easy," she replied quietly. "That spell doesn't work on the undead."

Willow brightened, a grin lighting her face. "That's right! I'd forgotten," she exclaimed, jumping up and giving Tara a quick, tight hug before dashing out of the room and up the stairs.

"DAWN!" she shouted, half-way up. By the time she'd reached the landing, Dawn still hadn't answered, so she called again, this time louder. "DAWN!"

Dawn's door flew open and a disheveled Dawn, face tear streaked, emerged, rubbing sleep groggy eyes. "What?" she snapped.

"He's not dead."

Dawn's eyes brightened, her hand, shaking now, dropped to her mouth covering her hopeful, broken, "Oh!"

"The spell, it doesn't work on vampires."

Dawn squealed, leaping forward and yanking Willow into a lung crushing hug. "So," she asked brightly, jumping back almost as soon as she'd started the hug, "how *do* we find him?"

Willow's smile faltered a touch. "I don't know, Dawnie, but we'll find a way."

**

Xander opened the door to his apartment as quietly as he could, rolling his eyes as he shut it behind him. He didn't know why he bothered. There was no way he was sneaking into his apartment quietly enough that a *vampire* wasn't going to hear him. Surprisingly, however; he was met with silence. He headed toward the kitchen.

One bag of the blood he thrown onto the table was empty. The door to the microwave stood open. He winced slightly at the blood spilled over the counter and dotting across the floor. It was then it hit him. He'd left William -- who couldn't see -- here, by himself, to both figure out how to open those sealed bags *and* use the microwave with it's flat operating surface.

**God, could I *be* any more of a jerk?** he thought, angry at himself -- again.

Sighing, and shaking his head, he turned and headed back toward the living room, only to freeze before taking two steps. There was William, on the floor next to the couch, his head leaning on the seat, hands tightly clenched between his knees. The vampire appeared to be sound asleep.

Xander swallowed. The picture reminded him of nothing so much as a child who'd struggled to stay awake, only to fall asleep where he sat. The thought tightened his chest painfully, every nerve in his body hyper aware that he'd left this utterly defenseless creature to fend for himself.

The realization did *not* sit well.

He slowly crossed toward the sleeping vampire, wondering how William was sleeping through both his arrival *and* his approach. It wasn't right. The natural defenses of any vampire should have woken this one long before Xander stood inches away from him. Had it been anyone else the vampire could have been dust by now.

~~CRASH~~

Xander jumped out of his skin, a startled, embarrassingly girly, scream tore out of him as the picture window shattered, sending thousands of tiny shards of glass flying through the room.

~~THUD~~

William jumped, whimpered, and launched himself at Xander.

Xander's eyes widened. He only had time to *think* about being afraid, all the while marveling at the blinded vampire's aim, before he found himself knocked to the floor and wrapped in an insanely tight hug by a frightened vampire. He gasped, struggling to bring air into his lungs. It wasn't working very well. "It's okay, William. You're safe," he murmured, awkwardly petting the vampire's head. **This is just plain *weird*.** he thought, extremely glad when William's hold loosened enough for him to easily draw breath.

Xander's eyes narrowed dangerously as he took in the large rock, paper wrapped partially around it, that now rested in the middle of his living room. **What the hell?**

"I thought you'd left me," William murmured brokenly against him, "thought you weren't coming back, hate being alone. Alone too much there."

**There?** Xander frowned down at William's head temporarily forgetting the broken window, the rock, and his concern about it. **That's the third reference he's made. How much does he remember? How much is lost?** Closing his eyes, Xander cautiously wrapped his arms around William. The vampire snuggled closer, sighing contentedly.

"I'm sorry."

Xander's eyes popped back open. **Sorry?** "F-for what?"

"For not minding. S-sorry I made you mad."

Xander was wondering of . . . rightness about it. He'd heal; he wouldn't even have a scar -- and it would help William heal. So, that was that.

He frowned, though. The best knife for this was still in the bedroom, still uncleaned from the last time he'd done this. He shook his head over that. Richie would rip him a new one for not having cleaned the blade long before now -- even if it wasn't a sword. Shrugging it aside for now -- he could get it later -- Xander pulled out a kitchen knife instead and headed toward the living room.

Half-way there, he stopped, snapped his fingers, spun around on one heel and headed back to the fridge. It took him only a moment to grab the jug of orange juice. It was only half full, but it would have to do. He supposed he could go get some more after Angel arrived. Then he wouldn't have to leave William alone.

Hey, look on the bright side, *Spike* might be back by then. *That* would be of the good. Aside from everything else, he needed to let Dawn know he'd found the vampire, but really didn't want to do that before at least *some* of this was straightened out. Somehow, he didn't think Dawn would be very reassured if she saw the vampire now.

**Okay, shut up brain. One thing at a time.**

Hoping that would quiet his insistent, circular thoughts, Xander stepped into the living room, and his chest tightened. Spike was curled into a ball, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. The vampire looked up as soon as he stepped close, however; grinning impishly.

"You're back."

Xander grinned back, he couldn't help it. William, hair unbleached, disheveled, grinning that way was-- Xander groaned mentally --cute. Okay, he'd already worked through that one. It didn't have the power to shock him any more.

//Yeah, right!//

William's grin faltered as he drew in a deep slow breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. "You're going to leave again," he said flatly, his voice oddly free of inflection.

"Huh?" Xander asked, completely nonplussed. "Why would you say that?"

"You," William paused, bowing his head, his hands twisting nervously in his lap, "came back without blood."

"Well," Xander quipped, "no, not exactly. I've got a whole body full of it, don't I?"

William's head jerked up, his grin widening into a full, open smile. "Yeah?" he asked, hopeful.

Xander simply nodded. Then, remembering Spike couldn't hear that, replied verbally. "Yeah," he echoed, letting his laughter spill-over into his voice and settling himself onto the couch behind the vampire.

William scrambled up from the floor to sit beside him, but Xander shook his head. His experience on the bed had shown Xander the easiest way to do this, and he redirected William to turn away from him and settle between his legs.

With a quick flick, Xander sliced open the vein in his wrist. Wincing as he did so, he still had to admit that he was getting good at it. It didn't hurt near as much now as it had the first time.

Leaning back against the cushions, Xander made himself comfortable as he offered his freely bleeding wrist to William.

Taking it with a surprisingly -- try shockingly -- gentle grasp, William pulled the arm toward his mouth, sealing his lips around the wound. Then relaxing against Xander's chest, sighed -- or was that a growl? -- contentedly as he suckled.

Allowing his eyes to drift shut, Xander *tried* to ignore the unfamiliar sensations running through him. Strange images wandered in and out of his thoughts as he began to realize exactly why Riley had done this. When you weren't fearing for your life it was actually very . . . pleasant.

Xander snorted; pleasant was just a *slight* understatement, but he wasn't ready to think about *that* too hard. His body humming, his senses narrowing down to the cool lips pressed tightly against his wrist -- **And just why hasn't it already healed?** -- Xander thoughts took a turn to the absurd, and he wondered if this was how mothers felt when they nursed babies. His eyes popped open as eling of . . . rightness about it. He'd heal; he wouldn't even have a scar -- and it would help William heal. So, that was that.

He frowned, though. The best knife for this was still in the bedroom, still uncleaned from the last time he'd done this. He shook his head over that. Richie would rip him a new one for not having cleaned the blade long before now -- even if it wasn't a sword. Shrugging it aside for now -- he could get it later -- Xander pulled out a kitchen knife instead and headed toward the living room.

Half-way there, he stopped, snapped his fingers, spun around on one heel and headed back to the fridge. It took him only a moment to grab the jug of orange juice. It was only half full, but it would have to do. He supposed he could go get some more after Angel arrived. Then he wouldn't have to leave William alone.

Hey, look on the bright side, *Spike* might be back by then. *That* would be of the good. Aside from everything else, he needed to let Dawn know he'd found the vampire, but really didn't want to do that before at least *some* of this was straightened out. Somehow, he didn't think Dawn would be very reassured if she saw the vampire now.

**Okay, shut up brain. One thing at a time.**

Hoping that would quiet his insistent, circular thoughts, Xander stepped into the living room, and his chest tightened. Spike was curled into a ball, sitting on the floor in front of the couch. The vampire looked up as soon as he stepped close, however; grinning impishly.

"You're back."

Xander grinned back, he couldn't help it. William, hair unbleached, disheveled, grinning that way was-- Xander groaned mentally --cute. Okay, he'd already worked through that one. It didn't have the power to shock him any more.

//Yeah, right!//

William's grin faltered as he drew in a deep slow breath, his nostrils flaring slightly. "You're going to leave again," he said flatly, his voice oddly free of inflection.

"Huh?" Xander asked, completely nonplussed. "Why would you say that?"

"You," William paused, bowing his head, his hands twisting nervously in his lap, "came back without blood."

"Well," Xander quipped, "no, not exactly. I've got a whole body full of it, don't I?"

William's head jerked up, his grin widening into a full, open smile. "Yeah?" he asked, hopeful.

Xander simply nodded. Then, remembering Spike couldn't hear that, replied verbally. "Yeah," he echoed, letting his laughter spill-over into his voice and settling himself onto the couch behind the vampire.

William scrambled up from the floor to sit beside him, but Xander shook his head. His experience on the bed had shown Xander the easiest way to do this, and he redirected William to turn away from him and settle between his legs.

With a quick flick, Xander sliced open the vein in his wrist. Wincing as he did so, he still had to admit that he was getting good at it. It didn't hurt near as much now as it had the first time.

Leaning back against the cushions, Xander made himself comfortable as he offered his freely bleeding wrist to William.

Taking it with a surprisingly -- try shockingly -- gentle grasp, William pulled the arm toward his mouth, sealing his lips around the wound. Then relaxing against Xander's chest, sighed -- or was that a growl? -- contentedly as he suckled.

Allowing his eyes to drift shut, Xander *tried* to ignore the unfamiliar sensations running through him. Strange images wandered in and out of his thoughts as he began to realize exactly why Riley had done this. When you weren't fearing for your life it was actually very . . . pleasant.

Xander snorted; pleasant was just a *slight* understatement, but he wasn't ready to think about *that* too hard. His body humming, his senses narrowing down to the cool lips pressed tightly against his wrist -- **And just why hasn't it already healed?** -- Xander thoughts took a turn to the absurd, and he wondered if this was how mothers felt when they nursed babies. His eyes popped open as that thought took full hold of him. Staring down at the bac the the dark blond head, a feeling of awe, of protective power, flooded him.

His heart feeling full to bursting, Xander shook his head. Barely resisting the urge to reach down and pet the blond hair, he closed his eyes again.

He *hadn't* mentioned anything about the blood. He had explained how Spike had seemed . . . broken, but hadn't mentioned a thing about how he clung to Xander, reacting poorly any time the vampire thought Xander was leaving. Of course, it went without saying that he hadn't mentioned any of his own confusion -- or his less easily defined feelings. After all, Angel didn't need to know *that* part.


TBC
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