Cause and Effect

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Chapter Twenty-One
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Head in his hands, Spike drew a cleansing, but shaky breath, hoping it would help. It didn't. It was all so very much to take in at once. He'd lost so bloody much *time*. With something resembling a snort, he ruefully admitted to himself that in the grand scheme of things it really wasn't all *that* long, but some major shit had happened during the elusive block of time that he didn't remember -- and that skewed its importance out of all context with the actually time that had passed.

He frowned. The two of them were still holding something back, though -- and he could tell it was something big. None of what they'd said explained squat about the oddness he felt from the two of them -- or why the hell he was so bloody certain he'd heard *Xander's* voice in his head. Of course, to give them credit, he hadn't actually *said* anything about it. It *should* have bloody well been impossible -- which meant he was probably going insane. He could feel laughter bubbling inside him -- and he feared if he let it loose, it would sound, and *be* a rather hysterical sound. With everything else, *what* could possibly be worse?

He'd only had that kind of mental connection once -- ever -- and that had been with--

Spike's head snapped up, his face transforming into a picture of utter disbelief. **No, Bloody way!** Closing his eyes, trying to block out the confusion caused by his currently odd, hazy, almost double image, sight, -- even the wall he had been staring at seemed superimposed over another, identical, wall -- Spike concentrated on the once strong link between him and his Sire. He *had* to prove that add, impossible thought wrong before he could move past it.

Relaxing as he sensed it, he tensed immediately back up as the strength of it hit him. It hadn't been *that* strong in over 80 years.

"What's wrong?" both Xander and Angel asked -- nearly in stereo.

He frowned, for now ignoring the question in favor of puzzling through this new discovery. Had he drank straight from Angel during his unremembered convalescence? Slowly re-opening his eyes, he unerringly sought the position of his Sire -- and gasped, his world tilting sideways, and immediately back upright. His stomach stayed sideways -- or so it felt.

Even as the edges of his already dubious vision grayed momentarily, Spike shook his head. "No," he denied, not believing what his senses told him. It was *not* possible.

"Spike?" Xander asked.

"Tell me I'm wrong, Harris!" he bit out angrily, wincing internally as some of the renewed fear he was feeling bled into his voice.

"Wrong about what?" Xander asked carefully, warily it almost seemed.

"You're not wrong, Spike," Angel cut in softly.

Spike frowned, turning to face Angel. Had that been regret he heard? "That's not possible, Angel!"

"It is," Angel repeated.

"No, it's--"

"It's happened before."

Spike deflated instantly, sinking back into his seat when his knees stopped cooperating. This just *couldn't* be happening to him. Wasn't he enough of an outcast already? Wasn't the chip, and then the soul, enough to keep him separated from the rest of the demon world for all of his eternal existence? "It has?" he asked faintly, damning himself for the tired, defeated sound of his voice, even as he closed his eyes again, a vain attempt to block out the truth.

After that, it didn't take long for the two others to finish explaining exactly what had happened. It didn't take a genius to figure it out, but what Spike didn't understand, was how it could possibly be *that* easy. Surely if it was, it would be a common occurrence in familial wars.

A quiet sigh from Xander, brought Spike's attention abruptly back to the human. **Gods! How the hell do I think of him now?** Spike studied Xander quietly, for the first time truly allowing himself to feel and acknowledge the mental bond that stretched between them.

He let out his own sigh. **Yep, it's really there. I have a *Sire* bond with *Xander*.** He frowned -- again -- his eyes narrowing thoughtfully. He couldn't think of Xander as a Sire. He laughed abruptly. *Anyone's* Sire, let alone his. And truthfully, just because the bond was there, didn't make him his Sire.

Angel had the privilege, much as Spike wanted to deny it most of the time.

Suddenly, Xander looked startled, and his eyes widened comically.

"What?" Spike demanded.

"Um," Xander began hesitantly, "that was weird."

Spike smirked as soon as he realized what had to have happened. When he'd stopped unconsciously blocking the bond, Xander'd begun to feel it. "*YOU* think it's weird?" he asked with a humorless chuckle.

"Hey!" Xander exclaimed, and Spike was suddenly hit with a double whammy of rage rolling off of Xander, once from his senses, and again through the bond. "It's not exactly like *I've* been doing things like this all *my* life. At least you've had *some* experience at this kind of thing!"

Spike jerked his head back slightly. "You sure learned how to do *that* quickly enough," Spike snapped, "but don't think you're going to be able to control me, just because of this thing! I don't give a tinker's damn how many lessons you take from *Angelus*, you'll never control *it* enough to control me!"

Spike's anger drained abruptly as the startled silence from the other two sunk in. After a quick glance at Angel, he returned his attention to Xander, staring in challenge, waiting. He began to shift uncomfortably when, after several moments, Xander said nothing, did nothing, simply stood there staring at him uncomprehendingly.

"Huh?" the young man finally said.

Before Spike could respond -- angrily or otherwise, he hadn't decided yet -- Angel spoke.

"What did he Spi Spike?"

Spike shook his head, once again closing his eyes. He re-opened them immediately, however; striding over to a still confused Xander. He almost stopped when Xander flinched away from him ever so slightly. "I should have known better, Xander. I'm . . . sorry."

Xander rolled his eyes, blowing out a hard, frustrated breath. "And again I say, huh? What did you just accuse me of -- other than conspiring with Angel, somehow?"

"You used the bond against me."

Xander's incredulous, "I did?" sounded at the same moment as Angel's "Oh, hell! I didn't even think of that."

"Why me?" Spike asked suddenly.

"I still think it's the Hellmouth's idea of a good joke," Xander offered sourly.

Spike blinked, and let out a single soft laugh. Then, despite his best efforts, more followed until he had to sit down he was laughing so hard. He saw, but couldn't respond to the questioning looks that passed between Xander and Angel.

"I didn't think it was *that* funny," Xander offered, then grinned. "But it's a nice change of pace that someone's actually *laughing* at my humor."

Angel snorted, then rolled his eyes, but was obviously fighting his own laughter. Spike could see the barest twitches at the corners of the older vampire's mouth.

"It wasn't," Spike replied finally, once he was relatively certain he had his surprising amusement under control. "It's just. . . ." Spike's voice trailed off and he waved his hand, vaguely indicating the room and the two of them. ". . . .everything."

Xander's eyes brightened knowingly, "Oh, well, yeah, I hear that!"

"Too much at once?" Angel asked.

With a deep sigh, Spike nodded, "Yeah, just a little."

Spinning around abruptly, Spike headed for the kitchen. "You got any blood left, Harris?"

"No," Xander replied quietly, "You already had what I had left."

"Great," Spike sighed, coming to a dead stop in the middle of the kitchen. "What the bloody hell happened in here?"

The sudden wave of embarrassment he felt from Xander surprised him.

"Oh, that. I forgot about that."

"Forgot what?" Angel asked.

"All the blood in the kitchen."

"Blood? What blood?" Angel asked. "Oh," he continued, stopping right behind Xander in the entryway. "Um, what *did* happen?"

"Spike did, or rather William did."

"Oh," was Angel's intelligent reply.

"What did you just say, Harris?"

"Hmm? Oh, I just-- Oh. Ooops?"

Spike's eyes narrowed. "Oops? What do you mean, oops?"

"It's just, well, before you 'came back', you weren't exactly yourself, and you insisted you wanted to be called William."

"I did?" Spike questioned flatly, not believing a word of it. "And why would I do that?"

"I didn't understand most of what you did and said yesterday, Spike," Angel admitted.

"I don't know for sure," Xander replied, shooting a glare at Angel, "but if you want my opinion. . . ?"

"Oh, go for it," Spike offered sarcastically. "I can't *wait* to hear this."

"Well, to start with," Xander began hesitantly, "I have to imagine that having both a soul and a demon residing in the same body can't be easy."

Spike immediately wiped the 'like duh!' expression from his face as soon as he saw the one on Angel's.

"I would also imagine, there would be some sort of . . . struggle for dominance."

Angel nodded.

Spike frowned. He remembered mostly feeling a little crazy at the beginning, and then being left with feelings he wasn't used to feeling -- regret, remorse, all the stuff the demon within would never feel -- but no real 'struggle' as if there were two entities inside him. He had just felt . . . different.

"Now here's where I think the *big* difference between the two of you is," Xander continued, his belief in his theory showing in his rising excitement. "in Angel's case, his soul is dominant -- and I think it's needless to mention that the demon doesn't like that."

Both Spike and Angel snorted at that.

"In your case, Spike, I think the demon is dominant."

Spike's eyes widened. "How do you come by that?"

Xander ducked his head before replying, then shrugged sheepishly as he looked back up. "Near as I can tell, 'William'," he said, miming quotes as he said Spike's mortal name. "isn't, wasn't, isn't -- whatever -- exactly a very . . . dominant sort."

Spike rolled his eyes. "You could say that," he replied drily.

Xander started to make a reply to that, but obviously changed his mind. Spike almost asked what he'd been about to say, but thought better of it.

"When whatever was happening while you were being held got to be too much, I think the demon -- you -- retreated, allowing your soul to surface more fully. 'William' was able to handle it by submitting to them."

Spike grimaced, wanting nothing more than to protest, to deny what Xander was saying. Unfortunately, his memory of the events remained blank.

"From comments you, or rather, William, made yesterday, you were fighting whatever it was they were doing, and when he took over he began associating "Spike" with the punishments received for that. You, instead of them, became 'the bad guy'."

It all made sense, if they were talking hypothetically, which is what it sounded like to him. None of it *felt* related to him.

"So why did Spike make a reappearance now?" Angel asked.

Xander blushed.

Spike's eyes widened at that. **What the hell?** he thought, now intently interested in Xander's response.

"Well, I think that has to do with the blood sharing."

"The what?" Spike exclaimed incredulously.

"Makes sense," Angel replied. "You'd finally accepted him completely. He felt safe."

"Yes," Xander replied excitedly. "That's it exactly."

"So, why can't he remember?"

"That one's got me stumped. The only thing I can think of is overcompensation."

"Hey!" Spike said.

Angel nodded knowingly. "Yes, Spike's always been prone to that -- William too, for that matter."

"The demon is now totally dominant and the soul 'in hiding' -- so to speak."

"Hey!" Spike shouted. "Would you two *stop* that!?"

The two men jumped, the turned toward him in surprise. "Stop what?" they asked together.

" *That*!" Spike explained. "And talking about me as if I'm not here. And while we're at it," he continued, his voice taking on a overly patient, sickly sweet politeness. "Would you *please* tell me *what* bloody blood sharing?"

Xander and Angel shared another look. This time it pissed Spike off. He stepped forward, stopping when he was standing between the two of them.

"This *is* not up for debate. This is *not* something you two get to decide if I know about. You will tell me now."

Xander sagged. "You sure it can't wait until you remember it?" he pleaded. "You will eventually, you know."

"I do?"

"Well, yeah."

Spike frowned again, wondering whether he would *ever* understand Xander's reasoning. He, sure as hell, wasn't certain he'd get the memories back -- and a small part of him wondered if he wanted to, considering how much sense Xander's theory made.

"What makes you so sure?"

Xander shrugged. "I just am. Obviously all of you is in there. We had William yesterday, you today -- you seeming a lot more like you were before you got your soul." Letting out a small sigh, he shrugged again. "I don't know *why* I believe it, I just do." He grinned then. "Maybe some of that psychology that Willow and Buffy were taking -- and talking about -- rubbed off."

Xander looked away pensively. Then, obviously coming to some sort of decision, turned back resolutely. "I think it'll start coming back when you start letting William back in, when you admit you might -- just might -- need a little help getting past this."

"Me?" Spike asked, snorting. "Need help?"

"Yeah, *you*," Xander snapped, stepping closer. "You, the big bad, the *evil*, 'I can handle anything, Spike'."

Spike spun away, anger radiating off every line of his body. "I don't *need* anyone," he snapped, striding toward the door. What I *need* is to find who, what, and where."

He reached the door, pausing only a second before he wrenched it open, ignoring the protests he heard behind him. "I'm going to Willie's."

"We already have those answers, Spike."

Spike froze. **Bloody hell!** So much for his excuse to get the space he so desperately needed, he thought, even as he turned, growling. "Tell me!" he demanded, slamming the door behind him.

Xander did, even including that it was Dawn who'd managed to get the information.

"Little Bit?" Spike repeated. "Damn! I need to let her know I'm okay."

"She knows. Willow called and I told them you're here."

Spike nodded, then frowned.

"They wanted to come immediately. I told them to wait. I," Xander hesitated a moment before continuing, "didn't think you'd want them to see you the way you were."

Something inside Spike released then, relaxed, even as his concern grew. "What do you, the way I was? What the hell was I acting like?"

Xander opened his mouth to respond, but Spike cut him off.

"Never mind. One thing you haven't said yet is who? Who did all this?"

"Doctor Weisenburg."

Spike gasped, a hard image slamming across his thoughts, nearly bringing him to his knees. Angel was beside him in an instant. "Back off, Peaches!"

Angel rolled his eyes, but backed off. "What did you see?" he demanded.

"A man," Spike replied slowly, working through the startling, slightly frightening image, "wearing a white lab coat -- like the bloody wankers at the initiative. He was standing over me. I . . . couldn't move."

"Someone was holding you down?" Xander asked hesitantly from behind Angel.

Spike immediately shook his head, though he didn't know why he was so certain. "No, something else was the reason." He pushed into the memory, desperate to figure out what, exactly, was wrong. Something, though, didn't seem quite right. He couldn't find it though, and suddenly, the image skittered away just as quickly as it had come.

"Damn it all!" he muttered angrily. "You sure there's no blood left?" he asked, striding back toward the kitchen. He didn't really care; he just needed to move -- to do *something*. He jerked open the fridge, now completely ignoring the two that followed him.

Angered beyond reason that Xander had been right, Spike slammed the fridge door shut, his features shifting as he let his rage burst forth.

His stomach twisted and the room spun, the mild ache -- one of many -- in his jaw that he'd managed to ignore, suddenly burst into a sharp, bright, sereing pain. It brought immediate tears to his eyes.

**What now?!**

He gently ran his tongue over his teeth and gums, searching for the source of his pain -- not that his imagination wasn't already supplying him with an all to possible and utterly terrifying idea.

**No, no, no, no, NO**

Arms wrapped around him, and as much as he wanted to protest, to protect what was left of his dignity, he couldn't find it in himself to push the warmth away. It felt so very good to wrapped up in, to have someone care enough *to* hold him. It took him several seconds to identify the strange, high-pitched sound, then several more to realize that *he* was the one making it.

He cut the sound off abruptly, immediately shoving himself away from Xander. He was behaving like such a bloody wanker! He shivered, slowly turning back to face Xander, who was still kneeling on the floor beside the fridge.

He opened his mouth to make some slamming retort, something low, designed to hurt Xander, to give himself back a least a little control. Something stopped him, though; and he frowned. Xander seemed . . . off, even more hesitant that normal, not that he'd been all that hesitant recently -- rece to to *him*, anyway.

"This is just plain weird," he finally said, shifting uncomfortably.

Xander looked up at him, and he felt a wave of . . . nervousness? from the boy. Spike instantly wished he could see Xander's eyes clearly. The boy's eyes had always been that old cliche -- the window to his soul, with every emotional state clearly reflected in their brown depths.

"You're telling *me*?" Xander squeaked, then cleared his throat. Rising slowly, never once looking at Spike, Xander turned away. "Look, you and Angel can plan whatever it is you're going to do. I'll just . . . disappear for a while."

With that, he strode out of the kitchen.

In stunned silence, Spike watched. **What the hell?**

"Xander?" he asked, suddenly striding to follow, but Xander was already out the door.


TBC
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