Not Forgotten

Chapter 3


A week passed and Xander was no better. He had yet to show his gameface, only uttering the smallest of growls when Spike forced him to put clothes on. His speech had also not improved. He only spoke the tiniest and simplest of words and that was only when repeatedly prompted by Spike.

Spike was still having trouble working out what Xander could understand. It was like talking to your pet dog. You could natter on about the state of the government or how bad the last potato season had been and your dog would give you a face that said he understood. When you are sad, your dog puts his head on your lap and gives you his best ‘I still love you’ expression. Xander was exactly the same. He seemed to understand so much, when in reality all he was doing was picking up on emotions and learning routine. At least, that was today’s theory.

According to the book, Xander should have been gaining strength and confidence every day while he fed from Spike. Nope. Not happening. Spike had been wondering why for several days before he realised something. How was Xander supposed to become strong from feeding from his Sire when his Sire was living on a diet of pig's and cow's blood? Spike was weak, Xander was feeding from him, therefore Xander was weak, so weak in fact that Spike was unwilling to take any blood back. It was probably for that reason that the turning hadn’t quite worked as expected. He was keen to form a Child-Sire bond, but not at the cost of Xander losing more of himself.

Spike made the decision. Tonight they would go out and score some human blood. It was the only way forward. He needed to get Xander at least halfway normal before his friends came knocking. Spike was very surprised that they hadn’t already come nosing about. He was pretty sure that Xander had already missed at least one Scooby meeting, plus he had been due to meet his friends at The Bronze on the night that he had been turned. Spike was less surprised that Xander’s parents hadn’t noticed. The incredible swaying woman seemed to have left for her holidays and the incredible swaying man swayed home every night, crashed about, drank some more, broke the furniture, then passed out. Spike wondered if Xander’s mother had left for good. He couldn’t blame her.

Spike had never met Xander’s parents. He was glad. It saddened him that Xander had to grow up around those pigs.

“Right, c’mon then, little pet. Time to go.”

Xander sat on the bed and stared confusedly.

Spike waved him over and held up his jacket. “Outing,” he said.

Xander smiled, sprang up from the bed and bounded over.

“Pleased about that, eh? Yeah, me too. Gets boring, cooped up in ‘ere.”

Xander held tightly to Spike’s hand and impatiently bounced on the balls of his feet.

“Alright, alright,” Spike chuckled. “We’re going. Wanna know where we’re going?” he asked, knowing that he would get no reply. He carried on talking, regardless. “We are going to steal a van, a big van, a big van filled with blood.”

Xander grinned.

**

Spike had been watching the blood delivery for weeks, learning the different drivers, their shift patterns and their habits.

Every evening, at eight o’clock, a big white and blue van pulled into the back of the service entrance of Sunnydale hospital and dropped off between three and five large containers full of blood. Normally the drivers would turn up, exactly at the stroke of eight, and were met outside by two security guards who would be waiting from about seven fifty five. However, after careful observation, Spike had discovered that one of the drivers always turned up ten minutes early on a Thursday. The driver would exit the van, leaving the goodies inside and waiting over by the entrance while he had a quick smoke before the guards came out.

It should be more than easy.

“Ready, little pet?” Spike asked as the delivery driver sparked up his cigarette. “Now, we run to the van. I open the door and you pop inside, got it?”

Xander rubbed his face over Spike’s shoulder.

“I’ll take that as a no. Give me your paw, then,” he said, taking Xander’s hand. “Just make sure you keep up. Ready? ….Go!”

Spike pulled his Childe across the tarmac and towards the van. Flinging the door open, he pushed Xander inside.

“Oi! What do you think you’re doing?!”

“Great,” Spike said. “That’s fucked it.”

A security guard appeared from the shadows and yanked Spike away from the van.

“I said, what the fuck do you think you’re doing? You in the van, get the fuck out.”

Spike cursed under his breath. With the chip in his head, he was almost defenceless. Yes, he could clock the guy good and hard but the resulting zap from the chip would probably render him unconscious. Not a good thing. When reinforcements arrived, they would call the police and take him and Xander away. He had no idea how Xander was going to react to strangers pushing him around and separating him from his Sire.

“Hold up, mate. You mean this *isn’t* my van? Sorry ‘bout that. Now, have you seen a similar van lying about? I was sure this was where I left it.”

“Shut it, you Australian bastard.”

“Oi! I ain’t Australian. I’m English!”

“Whatever. You foreigners all sound the same to me.”

“Right, that’s it!”

Spike lunged at the guard and landed a powerful punch to his jaw. The guard fell backwards and so did Spike.

“AARRGHHH!” Spike screamed as he rolled on the ground and clutched at his head.

Xander gasped and hopped out of the van. “Sire!” He ran to Spike’s side and helped him to sit up. “Sire,” he said again, running his hands over Spike’s head.

“S’alright, little pet. Just gimme a minute.”

“HEY! What’s going on out here?!”

Spike glanced up to see two more guards exit the building and start running towards them.

“Fuck. Get away, little pet. Run. Leave me. I’ll find you. Promise. Go on, go. I said, go!”

Xander kissed Spike’s cheek and stood up. He took several paces towards the guards and stopped.

“What you doing, little pet?” Spike asked as he tried to get to his feet.

“Good question,” one of the guards replied.

Xander changed into his gameface and snarled. “My Sire,” he growled.

The guards stopped and began to step backwards.

“Fuck. What is it?!”

“No idea. And I’m not sticking around to find out.”

The guards ran and Xander turned back to his Sire with a smirk.

“Very clever, little pet. I could have bloody done that.”

Xander gave him a look that said ‘why didn’t you?’

“C’mon, smart-arse. Get back in the van before someone decides to be brave.”

Spike pushed Xander back in the van for the second time and got in after him.

“Should have done what I said, though. You were lucky they were a bunch of cowards. Could have hurt you real bad, little pet.”

Xander chewed on a nail, his best puppy dog impression firmly in place.

“Don’t look at me like that…come on…You did a stupid thing…oh, alright. You looked great. Never thought you’d make a good vampire. Guess I was wrong. I reckon once we’ve got you all fixed up, you’re gonna make a bloody great vampire.”

**

Spike squashed the last pack of blood in the fridge and turned to the microwave just as it beeped.

“Ahhh, lovely type O neg. Food of the gods, little pet,” he said before he gulped the whole mug down in one. “Beautiful.”

Spike could feel the effects straight away, his muscles hardening and his brain ticking faster. Both ears popped and he realised how much his senses had dulled. He could hear everything. Laboured snoring from upstairs, cars in the distance and babies crying for milk and attention from streets over. Good stuff.

“Hungry, little pet?”

Xander sat on his knees in the middle of the bed and blinked questioning eyes. Spike approached carefully, having learned days ago that it was all too easy to spook his Childe. He climbed onto the bed and pulled off his shirt. Xander snuggled into his side immediately, rubbing his face over hard, pale shoulders.

“Go on, luv. Feed. It’s okay.”

Xander whimpered and nudged at Spike’s neck. The blood was right there, right beneath that wonderful skin, but somehow Xander couldn’t work out how to reach it.

Spike tugged Xander away and changed into his demon face. “Like this,” he said, running his fingers across Xander’s human brow.

Xander repeated the action on Spike’s face, confused as to what he was supposed to be doing.

Spike sighed and pulled his blade out of his boot. “You’ll learn,” he said, drawing the knife across his flesh, just below his own collar bone.

Xander scented the blood just once, pulling in the aroma like a starving man faced with a full roast dinner. He didn’t hesitate, springing forward and latching onto the cut. Xander moaned the second the precious liquid hit his tongue, swallowing it quickly and instantly drawing more into his mouth.

“That’s it, luv. It’s better, yeah?”

Xander answered by touching his hands to Spike’s chest and exploring thoroughly while he drank.

Spike’s instinct was to pull away, to push Xander away and end his feeding. But he couldn’t. Xander needed this. Needed his blood and needed this intimate contact with his Sire.

Xander found a pert nipple and gently squeezed, smiling as he felt Spike tense and pull in a quick breath.

Spike closed his eyes. Just one more minute, he thought. Let Xander take what he wants. Let Xander grow strong. Let him…

Xander pushed Spike back onto the bed and pressed their bodies firmly together. Spike gasped again as he felt Xander’s erection pressing against his own. He had to stop this. He didn’t want it. Not like this.

“Stop, luv,” he said, frowning at the regret in his voice.

Seeming to understand, Xander released Spike’s body and crawled off, settling himself between his pillows and licking his lips.

“Better?” Spike asked, again frowning at the breathlessness of his question.

Xander nodded and curled up to sleep like a dog in a basket.

Spike smiled.

Xander had understood.

TBC…