All I Need...

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Part 30

“No!” He was snarling. He knew he was snarling. In fact, he was snarling at his GrandSire and he didn’t even care.

“There’s no bleedin’ way I’m lettin’ ya touch my bloke, Angelus! Don’t care how many times ya try ta ‘explain’ why it’s bloody necessary! Xan’s mine, ya git!”

‘Told you,’ Angel smirked silently, ‘Told you and told you, you bastard. They’ll leave before they let us fuck the boy.’

Angelus growled. ‘And we’re really gonna let them go. Sure. Tell me another one, soulboy. Fuck, drug the kid, dominate him, and it’ll all be over.’

And there was no way in Hell-- or out of it—that Angel would ever do that. Besides… “Stop it, Spike. You know the submission doesn’t count if it’s not willing. And you’re not, which I’m guessing means he’s not.”

“Too bloody right, ya great poof! My Xan’d rather die than let ya top him! An’ I’d rather go up in a bleedin’ cloud of dust than make my luv all sick an’ such by even suggestin’ it.” He’d e-mail Giles as soon as he got back to his room, he decided. Tell the Watcher to find a flat for him and Xan. He deliberately ignored the little voice in his head asking if he was so sure of how Xander would react. His bloke had made his opinion of Angel’s appeal clear enough, after all.

“Don’t need my Xan ta be part of th’ Order, do I? ‘s not like bleedin’ Dru’s goin’ ta show up an’ demand her place or anythin’… or her so-called ‘Sire’s rights’!”

Angel sighed. “I know, Spike. She’s back in South America, anyway. With good old slime-and-antlers again.” He almost laughed at the disgusted look on the blond’s face, but didn’t. Instead he shook his head and leaned back in his chair, glad he’d ignored Angelus’ order that he make the submission a demand rather than a request. With as strongly as Spike felt about Harris, any demand of that sort would have ended with either the boy or himself dusted, and he knew it.

“Look,” he went on, “Sit down, boy. I don’t want your… Harris. Angelus does,” he admitted quickly, seeing the look on Spike’s face, “And I have to admit that the kid’s… changed. Grown into himself, you know? He’s not… an eyesore these days. But!” He held up one hand when the blond would have leapt to his feet, “I also know how much it would hurt you if I tried to… well, anything.”

Angel sighed. He’d never do anything to deliberately hurt his Childe; not even admit that it wasn’t only his demon half that wanted the once-human Scooby. It was enough that he’d admitted it to himself. “I needed to ask, though, if only to shut him up, okay?”

And that was something Spike could almost understand. His own soul existed pretty much peacefully with his demon, but then again, he hadn’t spent over a hundred years trying to keep them separate. Angel, on the other hand… well, Spike figured they were just lucky the two aspects of his Sire’s personality had declared some sort of a truce, even if it was one that was constantly being tested.

“Fine,” he agreed after a moment, his eyes still golden although the growl in his voice was barely more than a rumble now, “Just keep that bleedin’ wanker away from him, yah? Bloke’s mine.”

It took an enormous effort on Angel’s part not to sigh again. “I know, Childe. And I know you love him, okay? But… I have to ask, Spike. If you love him so much, then why haven’t you…” He shrugged, fingers toying distractedly with the pen on his desk. “Are you planning to claim him? Because that… well, that would be almost as much protection as bringing him into the Order. It would be like… a back-door to our clan.”

Long, pale fingers clenched into fists and Spike pounded roughly on the arms of the chair. “Hard ta leave a bleedin’ permanent mark when th’ bloke heals up in minutes, i’n’t, Sire? Been tryin’! Ya think I’m a bloody moron? Want everyone ta know he’s soddin’ taken, don’t I? Bloody hell, his bites scar just fine, don’t they? But I can’t seem ta make a lastin’ mark on him no matter how deep I go! Took a chunk outta him th’ other night an’ he was all smooth an’ perfect again ten bloody minutes later!” He growled. “Has ta be that soddin’ Morah demon’s blood doin’ it, but I’m fucked if I can figure a way ‘round it!”

He could hear and see the frustration his boy was feeling. Smell it, even. And while that was disturbing enough, it was the words his Childe had just said that really had Angel worried. “Wait. Just… Spike, hold on. Did you just say… he’s marked you? And it’s… permanent? Are you sure? This could be… very important, boy. How long… how long are his marks lasting?”

His brow furrowed slightly at the intent tone of Angel’s voice and Spike shrugged. “Yah, my Xan’s marked me. Been bitin’ me since we got back here, ya know? Few days after, anyway, Sire.” His fingers ghosted slowly over the scar on the top of his shoulder, hidden by the t-shirt he was wearing. “Th’ first one’s lasted a coupla weeks now… doesn’t seem ta be goin’ away.” He shrugged again. “Th’ rest… weren’t as deep, ya know? Can still see them, but… not like when they happened.”

Angel sighed deeply, not caring whether his boy heard him or not. “Okay… well, we can use the Morah blood thing for a while. Maybe get Harris to… I don’t know. Let himself be cut in front of witnesses or something so they’ll see how fast he heals up.” He nodded, mostly to himself. “But you can’t let anyone know about the scars he’s given you, Spike. This is important! Not anyone!”

The younger vampire frowned deeply. “What th’ bloody hell are ya on about, git? Want me ta be ashamed of my bloke? Not goin’ ta happen. What th’ fuck difference does it make if’n he’s marked me?”

The overhanging forehead creased as Angel’s eyes narrowed, almost glaring at the blond who seemed so oblivious. “Hell, Spike. I know you learned this when you were turned. I remember Angelus… drilling it into you, so to speak. When a vampire claims someone—be it another vampire or even a human, as unusual as that is—and bites are exchanged…? Who bears the deeper scar?”

The blond answered quickly, not even having to think about it. “Th’ one what initiated th’ claim. Th’ dominant partner in th’ claimin’…” He blinked quickly. “Oh, bollocks! So Xan’s Morah blood…”

“Makes it seem like your Primal is dominant to the whole Order of Aurelius,” Angel finished unhappily. “Because he’s marked you permanently and doesn’t bear any sort of scar from you, boy. Even I still bear your mark, Will,” he added quietly. “So if you could mark me, but not Harris…”

Spike blinked then started laughing nearly uncontrollably. “Xander-bloody-Harris… my Xan… is basically th’ Head of th’ Order? Oh, that’s… too bloody priceless, Peaches! Just wait ‘til I tell him! Likely ta put ya out on your ear, mate!”

Angel groaned as his suddenly bouncing Childe flew from the room, presumably in search of his… Harris.

“This is so not good…”

* * * * *

Fran was grinning hugely as she flung open the door of Giles’ office, completely ignoring the fact that the door being closed was intended as a sign to stay out.

“I believe I may have your answer, Giles,” she announced, hopping up onto the large table and crossing her legs. “About the feeding question, in any case, and I would have had it sooner had you bothered to tell me that Xander killed a Morah demon in the trials and was wounded badly enough at the time that he absorbed the majority of the demon’s blood, but since you didn’t…” She chuckled at the look on the man’s face.

“A… a Morah demon? Fran, are you sure?” His glasses came off, free hand fumbling for the ever-present handkerchief. “Although that would explain the return of his eye… among other things.”

The young woman arched one slender, dark brow. “Have you ever known me to be mistaken, Giles? Believe me, I research these things very thoroughly before I have the nerve to come to you announcing that I’ve ‘solved the case’, so to speak.” She smiled again. “Yes. A Morah demon. And I’m certain because I contacted Spike and asked him about the demon trials he survived. Then I cross-referenced what he told me with what you recorded of Xander’s experiences.”

She chuckled again at the consternation on Giles’s face. “After that, it was fairly simple to locate the e-mail addresses of the demons in charge of the trials—because apparently even demons are internet-capable these days-- and they were more than willing to assist the Second of the Order of Watcherius.” Fran nodded smugly. “And the upshot of that, my dear Mister Giles, is… Xander fought a Morah demon and managed to kill it, rather by accident. The demon had him entirely beaten and was leaning over his bleeding form, sword poised to skewer the poor boy’s heart when Xander got lucky with a thrown rock.”

Blue eyes blinked quickly as the glasses were returned to Giles’s nose. “But…”

“The rock,” Fran went on, wanting to get the whole of the story out before the Watcher could begin lecturing her on the inadvisability of lying to the sort of demons who ran the trials, “Well, to make a long story much shorter than Chip made it in his e-mail—the rock shattered the living crystal in the Morah’s forehead which housed its life-force. It fell, slicing itself open with one edge of its own sword.”

She shrugged, her lips twisting into a slight moue of distaste. “The other edge opened Xander’s gut and as the Morah bled out, it bled into Xander.”

Giles couldn’t help frowning at that because the account Xander had given to him was somewhat… different. “Are you certain that… there’s nothing more, Fran?” He forced himself to take a long, slow sip of his cold tea, face tightening at the bitterness.

Fran sighed. “That’s what’s pertinent to the questions you had, Giles, but if you must know, immediately after the Morah collapsed and bled all over him, Xander had one more bout. That one was with a Destirathian and Xander won it rather quickly, considering. From what Chip said, he actually yanked the demon’s heart from its chest. And then…” she shrugged. “And then it was over. Chip restored what Xander had ‘lost’—in this case, assumed to be the hyena and the strength to control it.”

He couldn’t help the huge sigh of relief that sang through him, though he tried to pass it off as a shudder. “All right. And this answers my questions regarding Spike’s… feeding habits… in what manner, exactly?” he asked with an arched brow.

The young Slayer cocked her head to the side then shook it. “Really, Giles. I’d think you’d know all about Morah demons. Demons in general are your hobby, after all… as well as being rather your job, which I suppose could possibly make you the most boring man alive. Fortunately, demons are much more exciting than, say… accounting.” She winked.

“Morah demons,” she continued as the man tried to look offended. “Their blood has regenerative effects. One drop can heal an injury… two or three good sized dollops could possibly turn a vampire human again. Now, imagine all of that flowing into a human body… buckets and buckets of it. Then add a hyena spirit and the ability to control said spirit, and…”

“Bloody… fucking… hell,” Giles whispered, his eyes locked on Fran’s. “And yes, I know what Morah demons are. I simply… hadn’t thought… well, they make a bloody good income selling their blood drop by drop, so I can’t imagine what one was doing in the trials, but… oh, good lord… Xander is safe.”

She smiled at the overwhelming relief on the Chief Watcher’s face. “He is,” she agreed. “Although… no, never mind.”

And suddenly his relief seemed rather too sudden considering the look on Fran’s face. “What?” he demanded quickly. “You’ve… thought of something, Fran, and chances are I won’t get there before a few days from now, so to quote… well, you…”

“Spill?” she finished for him before sighing. “Fine, Giles. It’s probably nothing, but…” She looked down at her knees, crossed as they were over the edge of the table.

“Out with it, young lady… or would you like to be reassigned to Andrew and Etienne DuChamps for the remainder of your training?”

Fran shuddered, not at the thought of working with Andrew, but at the idea of the Watcher who had so twisted poor Dominique. “No… no, Giles. And you should save that bloody threat for more severe situations. I was merely wondering if… well, if Xander has all the healing and whatnot that goes along with the Morah blood… and Spike is feeding exclusively on Xander, then… is it going to affect him? Spike, I mean.”

Giles blinked and took off his glasses again, handkerchief already grasped in his fingers. “Bloody hell… so Xander is safe, but… Spike may not be. And Spike is his… bloody hell, I don’t know what Spike is to him, but ‘beloved’ wouldn’t be far from the mark…”

“It gets worse, Giles,” Fran admitted softly, her eyes finding and holding the pale blue of the Watcher’s. “From what I understand, Xander took in enough of the Morah’s blood to make him effectively immortal. If feeding on Xander manages to make Spike human, then… then what?”

He could feel his heart beating faster, feel himself becoming more agitated than he’d been since Eyghon had come looking for him and his. “X-xander… Xander would… he would… I don’t think he could live without Spike now… Spike must stop feeding on Xander! I can’t… it would… bloody… he’d…”

Fran watched, wide-eyed, as Giles’s face became red, then purple, his voice going from strong and forceful to weak and thready. “Giles,” she said quickly, jumping down from the table and rounding it to crouch in front of the man, one hand on his arm, “Giles! Stop it! This isn’t helping!”

He apparently couldn’t or wouldn’t hear her, so Fran did the first thing she could think of. She pulled her free hand back and slapped the older man’s cheek hard.

He felt the strike. Of course he did. It made his head rock, after all. Still, he was mostly caught up in what would happen to his poor ‘son’ if the vampire became human, aged, died… Xander would be broken beyond repair and wouldn’t even have the comfort of death, not if he truly was immortal now, and… how could he stand it? How could he—Giles—bear to leave his boy alone in the world when Spike would be dead and so would the rest of them, with the possible exception of Angel, and wouldn’t that provide Xander with no comfort whatsoever, and…

‘Downward spiral’, Fran thought sadly. All the what-ifs were piling on top of each other in Giles’s mind. It was obvious. And each thought was leading him to another, even more hopeless thought… and so she did the second thing she thought of, since the slap hadn’t worked.

She straddled the chair, fingers grabbing hold roughly of short, graying hair, and… she slammed her lips hard against his, her tongue driving roughly into his mouth and tasting the flavors of cold tea, biscuits, and clotted cream.

He came back to himself slowly, his tongue dueling pleasantly with another warm, wet tongue that was obviously talented and seemed intent upon meeting his tonsils. It took a moment, during which he returned the favor, to remember where he was and who he was engaged in kissing, and when he did…

“Bloody hell!” he shouted, pushing the far-too-young girl away as he stood, slightly hunched in an effort to disguise his body’s-- automatic, he assured himself—reaction to the stimuli. “What do you think you’re doing Fran?”

Dark brows rose as Fran levered herself up from the floor to shrug. “You were lost, Giles. I just… gave you a trail of breadcrumbs that any red-blooded male would follow.” She smiled shakily, trying to pretend that that was all it had been. “And it worked. You’re not having an anxiety attack anymore, are you?”

‘Not much,’ he told himself silently, ‘Not as though I’m bloody hard as a rock from having a seventeen year old girl with a brilliant mind kissing me…’ And it was Willow all over again, although that girl had never crawled into his lap and tried to dive down his throat. ‘Yes. Anxiety attack covers it fairly well… how else would I respond to the realization that I’m a pervert?’

Of course, what came out of his mouth was entirely different from what was going through his mind.

“No. No, I’m not, and… thank you, Fran. I should… you should go. Don’t you have a class now? You should be there. Yes. In class. Learning. I, uh… yes, I’m very pleased with what you’ve… discovered. Yes. And perhaps you should focus on your studies from now on and let me worry about my son… I mean Xander… and Spike as well, yes?”

She couldn’t help laughing at the obvious discomfort Giles was displaying. So she did laugh, even though her lips were still tingling. She was far too young for him; she knew that. But Giles had always been something of an ideal for her. At least for the two years she’d been a Slayer.

Still, the last thing she wanted was for the man to think she had a crush… or for him to feel uncomfortable around her. And so she lied, in word, in tone; even with her eyes.

“God, Giles! Relax! It’s not as though I’m going to try being Eliza to your Henry Higgins!” Fran smiled, happy to feel the lack of innuendo in her own expression. “You were floundering. I tried slapping you. More than once. It didn’t work. Bloody hell, Giles, it was just a kiss! And not even a real kiss, at that!” She nodded sharply. “And I won’t let you push me away from this whole Xander and Spike thing. I’m in it! A part of it! So… just deal with it, Giles. Okay?”

Well, at least the girl didn’t know how much he’d reacted to her, Giles thought with relief. And as long as he could avoid completely losing it when she was around in future, there shouldn’t be any problem… aside from the fact that he couldn’t forget how wonderful she’d felt on his lap, her lips hot and soft against his, and…

No.

Just NO.

He wasn’t going there.

He wasn’t perverted enough to be lusting after a girl less than half his age…

No matter how much he admired her keen intellect… and her wonderfully skilled lips… and her incredibly toned and taut… no. He wasn’t going any further with that line of thought.

“Y-yes,” he finally managed to say, still not looking directly at her. “Right, then. We’ll meet here when and if we… find out anything… new.”

He watched her leave, eyes carefully trained on the back of her head rather than any other parts. Then he sat, one particular sentence Fran had let loose suddenly registering on him.

“Not even a real kiss? That was… less than what it could have…? And why wasn’t it real? The girl could do worse, after all, and…” he groaned. “I’m in hell. And I definitely need to get out more.”

And that, Giles decided, was a plan.

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(A/N: Many thanks to TheShadowCat-- not only for the review on 29 but also for telling me what happened with losing part 28 and the associated reviews. Again, if anyone reviewed part 28, your names weren't mentioned at the end of 29 because it all got eaten by the great demon internet. But I appreciate you all. *hugs*)