Mo Peata (My Pet)

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“Whoa nellie, hold on now, what?” Xander immediately went from despondent to confused. “What do you mean, ‘which version’? I thought Angelus pretty much only wore the hat of ‘Evil Maniacal Bastard’. Did I miss something?”

It was Spike’s turn to look at him as if he was slow on the uptake. “Whelp, the person you think of as Angelus is not my Angelus. Who you lot met was a demon that had been driven bloody insane from being locked in a lil’ bitty cage with a soul for over a century. The curse twisted him, forced him to obsess over destroying the person who had granted him his moment of happiness; who just happened to be the Slayer.” Spike’s eyes darkened briefly with pain at the thought of Buffy, but he forged ruthlessly on.

“Did’ya ever think that logically, Angelus should have been grateful to Buffy for getting rid of Soulboy?” At Xander’s hesitant nod, Spike snorted. “O' course! Normally he would’ve been. But that soddin' Gypsy curse only let him feel the darker emotions; hate, anger, obsession, jealousy. My Angelus was nothing like that. Sure he was a vicious killer, but he could still love! He loved Dru. He loved me! My Angelus wouldn‘t have tried to bring Hell on Earth. He loved his creature comforts too much. My Angelus would never have let me sit in that fucking wheelchair for six bloody months!” Spike’s voice cracked a little on the last word, and Xander saw that blue eyes were suspiciously bright.

“He was my Sire. He taught me how to survive. He showed me the beautiful song of blood, the thrill of the hunt.” Spike’s voice lowered to a whisper. “He was my everything. And who you met wasn’t him.”

Xander looked at the vampire in front of him with new eyes. Suddenly, a person who he’d always seen as flat had now become layered and three dimensional. He’d never imagined Spike to have such depth of feeling; never imagined the cruel monster he’d known as Angelus to ever be capable of love, except perhaps the love of killing. But he knew implicitly that Spike was being sincere. He chose his next words carefully.

“So… your Angelus, he wouldn’t kill me?”

Spike raked his eyes over Xander’s body in a way that made him feel naked. A smirk graced his features. “No,” he drawled slowly, “You he’d keep. Angelus always did have a fondness for pretty things,” Spike preened, “I’m proof of that. 'Sides, Peaches has wanted you for ages. He’s not gonna do something bloody stupid like killin' ya once he finally gets ya.”

And suddenly Xander swung back to ‘confused’ like a pendulum. “Peach-- I mean, Angel wants me? Since when?”

Spike grinned like a little boy with a secret. “Remember the night we met?”

“’Met’? More like when I got offered to you as a snack!”

Spike leaned forward conspiratorially. “Yours wasn’t the only arousal I could smell in that hallway.”

Xander blushed, but didn’t look away. “He…?”

Spike grinned bigger. “Liked havin’ ya all close, at his mercy, as it were. And when he lost the soul, he ordered that no vamp in the city could touch you. Not the Slayer, nor the witch got his protection, just you. The only fangs allowed to touch you were his.”

Xander felt strangely flattered, in a perverse kind of way.

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