Cause and Effect

Sorry everyone for the long delay. I'll be getting the rest of this story up in the next 48 hours. Thanks for the reviews! : ) They keep me going.

**********
Chapter Twenty Five
**********


The world around Spike faded away. He could hear Xander's gentle persuasions, his explanations of what had happened between them, but none of it really penetrated. He was too busy living it again.


* *


A flash of irritation rolled off Xander. "Drink it."

William pouted. It wasn't fair; Xander blood would be *so* much better for him -- and Xander sure as hell wasn't drinking any of this vile stuff. Then William almost grinned. "Why aren't you having any of it?"

Xander blinked and his jaw dropped open. When he realized it was hanging there, he snapped it shut so quickly that William could hear the sound of his teeth clashing together.

"Because I don't need it," Xander replied after a long moment.

"I'm not touching the bloody stuff unless you do," William countered, a part of him virtually screaming at him, wondering what the hell he thought he was doing. Defiance was *bad*. That warred with what Xander had told him, though; and he wanted, no *needed*, to see just how far he could push. He desperately needed to know what limits Xander placed on his seemingly ultimate, 'you can tell me anything'.

Xander jumped up from his chair, anger, confusion, revulsion pummeling William's senses. The anger had him wincing backward, and the words 'I'm sorry,' hovering on his lips. He bit them back. The revulsion he understood. The stuff *was* disgusting, after all. It was the confusion that he didn't understand, and had him almost reaching out take the hated blood -- pig's blood, Xander'd said.

He held out, waiting for Xander to lash out, to strike him for his disobedience. Hoping that, instead, he'd get to have more of Xander.

When Xander whipped around moving away from him, William's mouth opened in shock. **What?** he thought, desperately wishing he could see what Xander was doing. He was confused now. Xander wasn't behaving like he'd anticipated -- either way. He didn't like being confused. It made him angry, and he felt that anger bubbling toward the surface.

Xander wrenched the door of the appliance open, rattling the contents.

William listened in numb surprise as he heard the rustle of heavy plastic. A drawer was wrenched open, the silver within jangling irritatingly. Liquid was poured -- blood? Xander moved again, then after a brief hesitation stomped back toward William.

Uncertainty warred with disbelief in the vampire. **He'll never drink it. He said it himself; he doesn't need it. So why should he?**

"Pick up your mug," Xander said through clenched teeth.

William almost reached for it automatically, obedience deeply ingrained into him. He stopped, sighed, and reached for the detested mug. He didn't actually pick it up, though. He waited, instead. **No, way. Xander will stop this any second now.**

William flinched as the table beneath his forearms jerked. Loud gulp followed loud gulp as the human swallowed, and swallowed, chugging the viscous fluid down as quickly as he could manage. Then, with one last body shaking shudder that rattled the table, he slammed the mug down, the thud echoing through the room.

"Drink," Xander ordered, the single harshly uttered word razor sharp with tightly held anger.

This time, William did as he was told, drinking the lukewarm fluid as quickly as Xander had. He had his answer. Xander was angry -- very angry -- but he hadn't hurt him.

Xander spun away from him again, grabbing two additional bags out of the fridge and throwing them to William. "Drink those too. I'll be back later," he muttered. As the bags hit the table, he was already striding toward the door.

**He's leaving?!**

"I'm sorry!" William shouted, lurching to his feet, ignoring the many strident reminders of his injuries -- ignoring the counter he bumped into because he didn't remember it was there. Those things weren't important.


* *


Spike wrenched himself out of the memory, surprised to find himself near panic, the unwanted feeling of abandonment pulsing through him. He remembered his revulsion at the smell of the pig's blood, his fear at inciting Xander's anger, his need to find out whether he really *could* push despite that fear. He could still feel his relief that Xander *hadn't* struck out at the height of his rage. It was odd remembering it all. Even at his weakest, he'd never feared Xander, but above all of that, he could still feel the utter desolation that had stolen through him when he'd realized Xander was leaving him there alone.

Almost surprised to see Xander still standing mere feet away, Spike tried to stop panting, to control his run-away feelings. **It's not real,** he told himself. **That wasn't me.**

//Yes, it is. Yes, it was. It happened. *You*, the big bad, are panicking because you thought *Xander* was leaving for good.//

Knowing his eyes were wide as he stared at Xander didn't help. He couldn't stop. Everything felt so strange, so out of whack. He had to say *something*, but he didn't know what. He couldn't think of anything that would make it all go away, that would make it all seem right again.

"More memories?" Xander asked gently, taking half a step forward before coming to an awkward stop.
He nodded haltingly.

"Bad?" Xander continued, then looked as though he'd swallowed sour lemons. "Obviously they were; sorry," he continued immediately.

Spike shook his head. "No," he began, "not 'bad', just . . . strange." Completely sure he didn't want an answer, but needing to know anyway, Spike asked. "Did I really act like such a bleedin' nancy boy?"

Xander shrugged uncomfortably. "You were coming out of a bad situation," he began slowly. "You were--"

"Bloody hell, I did!"

This time Xander's shrug was apologetic.

Spike closed his eyes against all the truth that had been thrown at him. He didn't want *any* of it. He just wanted to *be*. Several eternally long -- and surprisingly silent -- moments later, he reopened his eyes. "You're positive, aren't you?" he asked, despite knowing Xander had to be. He wouldn't have said anything if it hadn't been obvious.

A startled look crossed Xander's face. "You mean about . . . earlier?"

Spike simply nodded.

"Yeah, no room left for doubt. Sorry. It wasn't exactly the first thing I would have thought of considering, you know, *guy*."

Spike nodded again; he'd figured as much. It would have had to have been glaringly obvious for the stubbornly innocent Xander to twig to it. It was beyond strange to know that something like *that* had happened, and that he had absolutely no memory of it. Strange didn't actually *begin* to cover the turmoil raging through him.

Part of him admitted he'd be a hell of a lot happier if he never did. Another part wanted to remember, just so he could make sure the bastard paid for what he'd done. He may not be able to do it himself, but, outcast that he was, he still had connections.

"You going to be alright, Spike?" Xander asked.

Spike's eyes flashed gold for a moment. "Still don't remember it, do I? Doesn't seem real."

"But it will," Xander said gently. "And when you do, you'll probably freak."

Spike's jaw tightened, but he didn't deny Xander's assertion. **Who wouldn't?!** he thought with more than a touch of venom. Of course, he didn't confirm it either.

"Come on, Angel," Xander said suddenly, spinning around and striding for the door.

Spike leapt to his feet.

"Oh, no you don't," Xander insisted. "I thought we covered this?"

"Spike, please," Angel asked, garnering Spike's shock.

"I'm going," Spike retorted stubbornly. "You can't just tell a bloke shit like that, and not expect him to want him to get his own back."

"And if you have a flashback while we're there?"

"You were planning on taking them on without me, were you?" he demanded angrily.

"Of course not," Xander retorted.

"Then it doesn't matter."

Xander groaned.

"He's got a point, Xander."

Xander threw up his hands. "Fine, no one listens to me, I'm just the Zeppo," he said angrily, spinning away from them and out the door before either could reply. He continued ranting as he stormed off. "The 'Donut Boy' couldn't possibly have anything of value to say."

Spike groaned, his shoulders slumping as he shared a despairing look with the vampire who'd been his Sire. "But I *want* to go!" he said, hating the whine he heard in his voice.

"Your choice, Spike. You know my opinion on the matter."

Feeling like he wanted to do nothing more than stomp his feet in frustration -- no matter *how* childish it would look -- Spike sighed. "He's gonna take it personally if I go, isn't he?"

With a raised eyebrow, Angel nodded. "Yep, he is. The question is, does it matter to you if he does?"

As much as he wanted to deny it with every fiber of his being, he couldn't. "Yeah, it does." He rounded on Angel, then, grabbing him hard. "If the two of you go after them without me," he warned, "I will hold *you* personally responsible. You hear me?"

"Yes, Childe, I hear you."

Spike had no answer to that. The shock of Angel calling him 'Childe' was, by itself, enough to temporarily silence him. He hadn't done that very often even back in the 'bad ol' days'. He remained quiet as the door closed behind Angel, and the older vampire quickly disappeared beyond the range of his senses.

Then, and only then, did he allow himself to sink to the ground. He couldn't *believe* he was letting them go off without him. Shaking off his disbelief, really not wanting to dwell on just *why* he'd caved, Spike was unable to stop his thoughts from turning to the *other* disturbing revelation of the night.