Breathing By Rote

Breathing By Rote 15.
Author’s note: Okay, the next two posts are the last scenes before April 14th, the big ol’ D-Day for time travel. Couldn’t think of any more scenes to add. Suggestions are welcome for re-edit, no S/X though. Great pairing, but I have next to nil interest in writing it. Does anyone know Gunn’s sister’s name?
***

Coming into the café’s kitchen to start the day Xander jerked to a stop to see a certain blond perched on one of the counters, happily spooning thick, goopy batter into his brown smeared mouth. The petite blond had been gone for a few days with no word and Xander had resolved not to worry, though he had happened through Willie’s yesterday and really, what had it hurt to ask? And now here he was, his free loading houseguest. Eating his brownie batter. Immediately pissed off, Xander couldn’t help doing the calculations and growled when he came up to a hundred and fifty dollars. That was one hell of an expensive snack Spike was having. The smell of his indulgence was heavy in the air and the brunette felt choked on it.

“Spike!” Xander tried to roar, but it came out more a bleep. “That’s four dollars a bar you’re eating there!”

The blond looked down into the bowl, swirling the spoon around as he kicked his feet. When his blue eyes glanced back up they were full of mischief. “Don’t get yer knickers in a twist, luv, most of it went in the oven.” He lifted the spoon, thickly covered and sluggishly dripping down. “I think yer allowed to indulge every once in a while, eh? Come have a taste, pet.”

Unconsciously Xander crept closer, his attention focused on the oven Spike was sitting across from. It was impossible to distinguish the smell of baking from the heady batter, but he saw the red light was on. Spike was baking? The blond vampire waggled the spoon at him and Xander reluctantly reached out to take it. Taking a small lick his eyes widened.

“Coffee liqueur?” There was something else underneath the strong flavor of coffee and the teenager took another mouthful, unconsciously humming at the delicious explosion of flavor.

“Bit o’ mango rum,” Spike answered the unasked question, smirking.

“These are going to be some strong brownies,” Xander said between licking. “Don’t think I have a liquor license for them either.”

“Don’t think Cappuccino Bob and the others are gonna much care, luv, and you can charge fifty cents more.”

“That’s Double Mocha Latte Bob, don’t you listen to me?” Xander snatched the bowl from Spike, turning to plop it on the counter. “And I’ll only get to charge extra if there’s anything left to charge for.” Digging into one of the cabinets to pull out another brownie pan he smiled at the quietly watching vampire. “Thanks, though. I’m sure they’re going to taste great.”

“Love to help, pet,” Spike answered after a long minute, but Xander did not turn around to see him adjusting his pants.

~*~

Depositing his glass of tomato flavored vodka on the nightstand the petite Irishman puttered about the sparse room, humming to himself as he saw to the few errant details that looked out of place. A spill of clothes there, a ruffled stack of papers here; once everything was to rights he claimed his seat and the book waiting for him. “Okay, okay,” he mumbled. “Where’d we leave off? Ah, yes, the Scrolls of Yeminil, dark sorcerer made mention of in the Galdrabok who excelled in restoration of the flesh. Using an archaic rune system of one hundred and . . .”

Doyle’s gentle brogue rolled the words over his captive audience, Connor’s eyes closed as he listened. The broken bones had healed with near daily infusions of Angelus’ blood, the burned flesh following more slowly. The boy learned his magic and did what the demonic blood could not, but he was still paralyzed. Still barely able to move his head and Doyle came to his room in the hotel every day, reading text after text in the hopes of finding the knowledge to restore the boy to health.

A soft noise at the door caused Connor to roll his eyes, seeing a familiar muzzle poking through the crack. Though the teen was trapped in his room he was rarely alone, receiving visitors throughout the day and usually one or both of the twins sleeping with him at night in his queen sized bed. Patrick quietly padded in, circling the bed before hopping onto the foot. So very careful of the tubes that trailed out of his little brother’s body the wolf gingerly settled along Connor’s side, dropping his great head on the boy’s chest. Connor didn’t notice the weight but he could feel the puffs of warm breath gusting against his throat and chin. Such a small thing and yet he treasured it all the same, to feel anything however insignificant.

There was no pause in Doyle’s reading, the teacher used to one of the Finns’ being around. For two hours he read, Patrick staying quiet so the young sorcerer could meditate on the six hundred year old text. Sometimes Doyle read the same passages over and over again until Con’s constricted voice would direct him to another volume. It amazed the teenager that the Irishman had volunteered to read to him, taking the job over from the rotating strangers culled from Angelus’ court, but he understood a little about loneliness. Doyle had been thrust into the Master’s court just as he had, with little warning to the reality of his life and even less freedom. Some higher power had gifted Angelus with the seer and the former school teacher was as zealously guarded over as the vampire was with all his treasured possessions. Doyle even lived on the same floor in the converted hotel as the Finns’ and they had readily welcomed him in.

A warm tongue licking his chin jerked Connor’s thoughts back to the lesson. Patrick grumbled a bit in his wolfie way and the younger Finn smiled. He wanted to be on his feet when Riley came home and he could feel it, just there on the edge, the sluggish rising of his magic. He was strong enough; all he needed now was the right path to direct himself down.

~*~

For a skinny vampire Spike weighed more than Xander’d expected, the teenager grunting as he hauled the blond up the back stairs to the apartment. The blond was drenched in blood, and consequently so was Xander, a limp weight in his arms. He was thankful the back seat of his car was always covered in garbage bags after the accident he’d had with a cracked twenty pound container of olive oil. After getting Willow’s phone call he doubted he’d have had the presence of mind to protect the upholstery.

Let no one say running a coffee shop didn’t build muscles as he juggled Spike’s dead weight and got the door open. The outer door was steel reinforced, the inner even further protected with various spells and holy objects that usually made using the rear outside entrance unappealing. Lanie had not been kidding around when she made her home on a demon populated street, but getting Spike up the narrow steps of the café‘s entrance was out of the question. At least on this street no one was going to call the cops if they saw him lugging a body into his apartment.

The last obstacle to getting inside was the plain gold disc set at shoulder level in the inner door. Weeks past when he’d taken the necessary time to include Spike in the protections hadn’t taken a lot of thought, but now he wondered if he’d unconsciously possessed the foresight to see this day when he lifted the blond’s bloody palm and pressed it to the seal. Most of the red blood was Spike’s and there was enough mixed with the greenish black slime to swing open the door with a soft ‘click’.

He understood that Spike went on patrol with Buffy so he could beat up demons. It meant when he came back here he was calmer and less inclined to thoughtless mischief. Not that he kept his curious nose out of the downstairs kitchen, but he was more easily entertained by the idiot box. Xander didn’t have time himself to patrol and felt better knowing Spike was watching Buffy’s back. Like tonight when they’d run afoul of a tribe of something nasty. Xander hadn’t bothered to catch the name. They had been greatly outnumbered and Riley had wanted to call in the Initiative, but Buffy had vetoed the suggestion. Apparently a couple dozen heavily armed soldiers couldn’t do what one Slayer, a vampire and a human could do alone. When Spike went down Riley called his old buddies and booked with the vampire.

Xander had heard Buffy and Riley going at it in the background when Willow called and the couple were still shouting at each other when he arrived at the Summers’ house. The ex-commando wanted to put Spike in the upstairs bathtub, but Buffy didn’t want the vampire in her house at all, let alone in her bathroom. She looked like she’d wanted to storm the kitchen but her boyfriend was blocking her, clue enough of where Xander needed to go. He’d felt sorry for Riley, seeing his angered and confused expression as he slipped around him. To the soldier you took care of your own and it was obviously upsetting him that Buffy in no way felt the same.

Laid out unconscious on the kitchen’s linoleum floor Spike had looked a sight from what Xander could see of him. Willow and Tara had been trying to clean him up with wet paper towels, but weren’t having much luck. Quietly thanking them Xander had collected up his vampire and left. He hadn’t bothered yelling at Buffy. Just walked out. She wanted to play with his vampire again then she’d have to apologize and grow a functioning brain.

So since when had Spike become *his* vampire Xander silently wondered as he stripped off the ruined clothing and shoved them into the trash while the bathtub filled. Nice hot water and he checked to make sure the vampire wasn’t breathing reflexively before he fully immersed him. The sudden heat didn’t wake him so Xander felt safe leaving him alone long enough to slip into the kitchen. Three packets of the good stuff quickly warmed in the microwave and he ran back into the bathroom.

Tossing the bags into the sink he stripped out of his clothes, yanked the drain lever and turned on the shower. “Up you go, lightweight,” Xander murmured, hauling Spike’s warmed body up out of the dirtied water and against his braced frame. With one arm needed to hold the blond he went with the liquid soap, liberally squirting from the head down before briskly rubbing everywhere he could reach. Whatever they had been fighting had clawed deep gouges into Spike’s back and viciously gnawed his one arm and shoulder. Most of the wounds had already clotted but Xander carefully went over them with a washcloth, wanting to make sure the wounds were clean. Spike squirmed and growled without waking but Xander’s voice shushed him. Fresh blood trickled free and the brunette shut off the shower.

The bags of human blood came from Chan’s three stores down and each came with a taped on straw and packet of duck sauce. Xander couldn’t remember when he’d started paying for the more expensive fare, but every week he left money in the mailbox for the filled cooler that was left at the back door. Maybe it was when he’d started thinking of Spike as his. Leaving Spike curled up in the bottom of the tub with a towel draped over him Xander snagged one of the packets, inserted the straw and wedged the plastic between the blond’s pale lips. “Suck,” he ordered, giving the bag a gentle squeeze to get the flow going.

Spike’s lashes fluttered and his cheeks hollowed, instinct taking over. Arranging the bag so it wouldn’t fall off Xander lifted the blond, towel and all, and carried him into his bedroom to deposit on the edge of his bed. Again he left Spike, going back into the bathroom for a towel of his own and the other two bags. When he came back in, roughing his hair, Spike was curled up around his meal, looking small and hurt. Unreadable blue eyes watched the larger man approach but the blond didn’t retreat when Xander sat next to him.

Using the towel he’d left with Spike he patted the petite vampire dry, careful not to aggravate any of his quickly healing injuries thanks to the human blood. “Buffy’s had some chip on her shoulder since the Initiative moved in on her territory, but tonight she went too far. If Riley hadn’t risked his AWOL ass tonight to go on patrol with you two then you’d both be dead.” Xander sighed, meeting the watching blue eyes of the quiet vampire. The behavior wasn’t that unusual to the young man; Spike usually got like this when bad stuff happened. His bag was almost empty so Xander reached over to the nightstand to retrieve the next one.

Spike tossed the empty to the foot of the bed and kicked it off with his foot while Xander fiddled with his full one. He carefully wiggled around and Xander waited on him, letting him nestle his damp head in his bare lap. There was nothing sexual in the cuddling, both men honestly too tired to deal with night’s revelations. Xander handed over the packet and buried his fingers in the platinum curls while Spike happily sucked away. If only, Xander smiled, watching the deep wounds in the pale back steadily fill in until they were only red welts that faded under his stare.

Something had happened tonight, beyond the failed patrol and Buffy and Riley going at each other. An acknowledgment perhaps, of what they had been quietly growing into. Spike lived here as much as he did, using the same spare bedroom Xander had on occasion when Lanie had still been here. They ate breakfast together and Spike usually pestered him about the café until Xander chased him up the stairs when he would sleep until early evening. Whether he stayed upstairs watching pornos or went on patrol with Buffy he was always home to make sure Xander closed the shop without any hassles. They had a routine that had come easily, as easily as what Xander did now, getting up to turn off the lights after giving Spike his last bag and tucking him under the covers. Climbing into bed he snuggled down with the slender vampire curled up against him, sleepily nursing at his straw.

The blond hair under his nose smelled of the green tea scented soap. “No more patrolling with Buffy unless she specifically asks and I can go with you.” He felt the motion of Spike nodding, the warmth of the blood bag pressing against his chest sliding up and down. Reassured he wouldn’t be getting any more phone calls like the one tonight Xander went to sleep.

The ringing of the phone from his nightstand woke him in the late morning. There was a vampire draped over his chest, a mostly empty plastic bag of congealed blood clutched in the fist tossed over his waist. Fumbling for the phone Xander blearily checked the caller ID display before answering. “Yeah?” he mumbled, prying the bag out of Spike’s hand and blindly aiming it for the trash can. He so did not want old blood sqooshed out all over him.

“Harris, it’s Finn. Just wanted to make sure Spike is alright.”

Blinking at his alarm clock Xander realized it was almost noon. Riley was more observant that he’d have given the man credit for, realizing Xander would not have appreciated a phone call any earlier. He didn’t even know if anyone had ever told the ex-commando he ran a coffee shop. Probably Willow. “Um, yeah, he’s gonna be fine. No more patrolling with the Buffster though, not until she pulls her head out of her ass.”

“I understand,” Riley sighed. “He’s good to have on patrol but he lets Buffy get away with too much. Talk to him, okay?” No good-bye, but Xander wasn’t feeling too social either. Turning off the phone he dropped it to the floor.

Sleepy blue eyes were watching him. A little blood was smeared around Spike’s mouth, dried and flaky. Xander licked his thumb and rubbed the mess away. Spike stretched up, kissing him chastely before burrowing back into the piling of covers and Xander’s warmth. “Wanna sleep.”

“Okay,” Xander answered after a long minute.

~*~

TBC.

Reviews:
Nelson: Unfortunately with my attention span I cannot put all of the canon characters into the story. Oz will be mentioned in passing, but Willow is with Tara, my favorite canon couple!
Kage: Thanks! Somehow, even in wolfie form I think the twins will find more than enough trouble.
Sablerose2: Thank you for the support! I am working on this story, slowly but surely. Real Life isn’t allowing a lot of time lately for writing, but Riley is my favorite muse.