Cause and Effect

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Chapter Eighteen
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Xander quietly shut the door behind him, careful not to disturb the sleeping William. Even so, he was faintly surprised when the vampire didn't so much as stir as he approached the bed. He'd *never* been able to catch Spike asleep at his crypt; the vampire had always been awake and fully dressed by the time he creaked open that heavy door.

Of course, Xander thought, that was assuming that Spike slept sans clothing while at the crypt. Xander didn't know -- hadn't ever *wanted* to know. William, though, certainly didn't like undressing -- or being undressed. Point of fact, when Xander'd brought him in here tonight, William had refused, point blank, to undress until Xander had produced something to serve as pajamas -- and he'd made Xander turn his back.

Xander grinned crookedly as he remembered the Gilesian accent coming out of William's mouth when he'd haughtily replied to Xander's incredulous look -- 'It *isn't* proper'. Glancing back at the door to the living room, Xander frowned. He'd forgotten to mention that to Angel. He'd wanted to, since he had no clue if that was something strange for William to say. Spike; oh yeah, it would have been so far out of character that Xander would have immediately reached for a straight jacket with no stopping at go, and no collecting of the $200.

He shook his head. He supposed it didn't really matter. He'd long since figured out that he was dealing with a totally different person. William was as like Spike as Angelus was like Tara. Eyebrows drawing together, creasing his forehead, Xander frowned suddenly. Watching the sleeping vampire who looked so deceptively innocent, Xander wondered if he was dealing strictly with Spike's soul. It would certainly explain his desire to be called William, and not Spike. The question *that* theory brought up was, if so, *where* was the demon?

Was this anything like multiple personalities? Would 'Spike' . . . come out to play, so to speak, sometime in the near future?

Reaching into the dresser for another set of sweats, one for *him* to sleep in, Xander slipped into them easily. Itlly lly hadn't taken him long to decide that he'd be wearing 'pajamas' tonight also. He didn't want to deal with any 'issues' he might have to otherwise -- his *or* William's.

He laughed then, almost out loud; Spike would be having a field day with someone as body shy as William appeared to be. Of course, he'd have to *be* here first. His smile turned a little sad. He missed the often abrasive, sometimes funny, and always ready for a fight -- be it verbal *or* physical -- Spike, but William had his good points too, he was sure.

As he slipped into bed, Xander's expression darkened. William *still* hadn't reacted to his presence. That made him a little uncomfortable. Okay, it made him *a lot* uncomfortable. It made it all seem a little *too* real.

**Right! And William diving behind me, pleading to be protected from Angel *wasn't* very real, and very, *very* disturbing?**

This was different, though. This was something inside William telling him instinctively that the person walking into the room could be trusted absolutely.

He swallowed against the sudden surge of protectiveness that swept through him, only *just* keeping himself from reaching out to brush aside the lock of Spike's hair that had fallen across his forehead. That kind of trust came with such awesome responsibility, and he *really* wasn't sure he was ready for that.

**Xander Harris, just *stop* thinking!**

With that thought firmly in mind, Xander settled back, carefully covering himself, still not wanting to disturb William. He shouldn't have worried about it. As soon as he stopped moving, William rolled toward him and threw an arm across his chest. Xander stiffened as shock, and several, conflicting, emotions shot through him. He hadn't expected that.

William whimpered slightly in his sleep, immediately pulling away.

"Shh," Xander murmured, lightly clasping William's arm. Keeping Angel's words about touch firmly in mind, he pulled the sleepy vampire back toward him.

William sighed contentedly and curled the entire length of his body against Xander.

Xander lay stiffly for several long moments, barely daring to breathe, let alone think -- he really didn't want to analyze a damn thing right now. Unfortunately, his brain had *other* ideas. Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts began racing, chasing themselves in circles. One idea after another shot through his sleepless brain, some gone too quickly to fully grasp before the next one took it's place, but one common theme held throughout. He would do everything in his power to help Spike.

Carefully shifting to his side, Xander opened his eyes to stare at the man curled against to him. His frustration eased, and his expression softened.

**How can he look so innocent, so *young*?** Xander wondered, again having to resist reaching out to touch.

The tangled mess of emotions that curled inside him, still left him confused and scared, and Xander wished he could *really* believe what Angel had told him. As much as this scared him, he'd much rather believe what he was feeling came from him, rather than the new connection between them.

He shuddered, wondering suddenly just what Spike -- the old Spike -- would make of all this. Sure, they'd become closer since Buffy's death, kind of a comrade in arms kind of thing. They'd maybe even become friends.

**Be honest.**

Okay, *he* had certainly begun to think of Spike as a friend, as someone who could be relied on. Hell, he'd admitted *that* a long time ago. What he wasn't so sure about, was how Spike regarded him. And now, he wasn't so sure his feelings were returned. It wasn't too far a stretch of imagination to visualize *exactly* how the 'big bad' himself would react to suddenly finding himself linked, bonded -- for lack of a better word -- to a mere human, to a 'happy meal with legs'. And hadn't Xander been squicked when Buffy had relayed *that* conversation one night.

He shuddered, the tremor running the full length of his body. Swallowing, his mouth gone dry, Xander sighed deeply. He was playing a dangerous game here, or would be. Angel had made it pretty clear that the two of them would end up pretty close. Xander almost laughed, hell, the older vampire had damn told him point blank that the relationship was usually sexual. It would be a fine line to walk -- catering to William, not hurting that wounded soul, but never going so far that *Spike* would be pissed.

Xander blinked suddenly, only just keeping himself from leaping out of the bed. When had he moved from being completely weirded out by it all, to this? How had he managed to bypass the questions of how far *he'd* be willing to go at all, how comfortable *he* was, and get straight to not hurting William and not getting Spike pissed?

**Have I mentioned recently that I'm in *way* over my head?** Xander asked silently. He wasn't sure just who he was asking, whether it was himself, or whether it was an actual prayer for help.

Surprisingly, his eyes slid shut on that thought, and it wasn't long before blessed darkness held him, and the world faded away.

**

Angel stood frozen as Xander disappeared. This entire night had been one *long*, incredible roller coaster ride. Before tonight, he would have told anyone who asked -- assuming he'd been willing to talk about it at all -- that he no longer particularly cared what happened to Spike, not in any deep and abiding way.

Oh, there hadn't been nearly as much of the old animosity between them in the last year, and he certainly had, had no desire to see Spike dead. But it wasn't until now, when he was facing the fact that he'd lost *everything*, and there wasn't a damned thing he could do about it, that it hit him how much he still *really* cared about the blond vampire -- his Childe -- his *favorite* Childe.

There was an aching void inside him that he knew would never again be filled. Spike was the only one who could fill it. Angel certainly wasn't going to turn anyone else to even try, and was pretty sure that Spike, once he was back where he belonged, healthy and whole, wasn't going to let Angel drain him to the point necessary to re-establish their bond -- assuming that was even possible without the younger vampire having to go through the 'breaking' process again.

He closed his eyes against the tears that threatened to fall, tears for himself, for the incredible loneliness he now felt, tears for Spike and what he'd managed to survive -- again. Of course, he hadn't managed to survive *this* ordeal completely unscathed, now had he?

Angel hadn't been completely truthful with Xander; the boy hadn't needed to know. Of course, having found Spike, Xander could probably come pretty damn close to knowing what had happened -- what *had* to have happened for Spike to be brought to that condition. It had taken more than Spike simply being near body-death, and Xander subsequently allowing him to feed to break the Sire/Childe bond, creating a new one in its place.

The bond simply wasn't that easy to break. In fact, it really was damn near impossible. Which was only one of many reasons why it didn't happen very often -- even factoring out the human part of the equation involved here.

He had no clue how long Spike had been missing, he'd forgotten to ask, but he knew it had to have been quite a while. Spike simply wasn't that easy to break. He ought to know; Angelus had tried repeatedly to do so, and the younger vampire had simply bounced back raring for another go round. He could very well imagine what it had taken to actually accomplish what Angelus n had had -- not that he wanted to. Even Angelus had, had his limits -- at least in regard to his family. Humans, on the other hand. . . .

**No, I am *not* going there!**

Not bothering with anything other than the pillow, Angel dropped onto the couch, throwing his arm across his eyes. It hurt beyond the telling of it to know that *he* ult ultimately responsible for what had happened to Spike. He had taken the doctor's family from him, tormented the man, and now, the doctor had taken what was left of his small family. It was vengeance, pure and simple, and of the oldest kind -- an eye for an eye. *That* he understood all too well. The demon raged inside him demanding its *own* vengeance back. It demanded he finish off what was started years ago, and in this singular instance, his soul was pretty much in full agreement.

Of course, the demon wanted Xander, the usurper, dead, also. *That*, he didn't agree with. A wry, twisted grin flittered his lips. Angelus would simply have to be satisfied with what Angel was willing to give.

He tossed and turned on the couch, trying to shut his mind off, and trying -- in vain -- to get comfortable. He finally admitted, he probably *should* have pulled out the bed, but before he could convince himself to get up and do something about it, sleep snuck up on him, stealing away his awareness.

TBC
Kiristeen
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