Tainted Returns

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Part Four
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Spike came to suddenly with a gasp of unneeded breath. The crypt dark and silent, he was immediately aware of several things. His jaw no longer hurt, but it was replaced by a new stinging low across his belly. Secondly, an experimental tug of his hands revealed that he was still manacled, but this time to his bed. Thirdly, as he turned his attention away from himself, a heartbeat.

He inhaled deeply, scenting the air. He'd known before he'd tested that it was Xander. Who else would it be. But the scent was off; it was tainted with the sweet smell of the Margaso. Xander was now fully under its influence.

"So," Spike ventured, searching the darkness for the human, "you got your wish. You're free of all those nasty little inconveniences called human morals. What are you going to do with your freedom?"

Spike frowned. He could see the boy, but the heat of his body was off. It was high, like he had a fever.

"I want to thank you," Xander replied softly, his voice lower than Spike expected, kind of gravelly.

**Say what?** "What for?"

"For freeing me. I've hidden so much of myself over the years. It's . . . nice."

Spike stayed silent, not sure, exactly, how to respond to that.

"So many things have happened to me, good things, bad things." He paused. "Though I suppose that whether you would think they were good or bad depends a *whole* lot on your perspective."

"Good point," Spike commented, not entirely certain where this was headed, but figured, the longer he kept Xander talking, the less time there would be for other, less pleasant, activities. "I take it that your current 'perspective' changes your viewpoint on some of those things?"

Xander chuckled, the sound sending shivers skittering down Spike's spine. "You could say that."

"I did, already," Spike replied, smirking.

"There was an . . . incident, back in high school -- a lot of them, actually -- but one in particular that changed my life beyond return."

"Oh? What was that, pet?" Spike asked, curious despite his current circumstances.

"Did you know we have something in common?" Xander asked instead of answering Spike's question. "Something I wouldn't admit any time but right now?"

**Okay, that's unexpected!** "Yeah?" he encouraged. "What's that?"

"We *both* tried to rape Buffy."

"What?!"

"Yeppers. Of course, I was possessed by the spirit of a hyena at the time."

Spike whimpered. **I *told* you, no one had to prove me wrong!** Unfortunately, it was far too late to undue the damage his earlier silence had caused.

"How'd that happen?" he asked, wishing he could be *any* place but where he was. This was *so* not the way he wanted to spend the evening.

"Doesn't matter," Xander replied, finally stepping close enough for Spike to get a good look at him.

Spike sucked in a quick breath at the startling differences in the man he thought he knew. He held himself completely differently. Gone was the comic. Gone was the Zeppo. Gone was the gangly young man that tried his best to keep everyone's spirits up no matter the circumstances. In his place was a predator. Xander stood at ease in his own skin, his stance at once relaxed and alert. In short, he looked like he was ready to take on the world.

"See, the thing is, I learned from my mistake. Did you?"

"You learned from that?" Spike asked flatly. "Just what did you learn? That it's stupid to push a slayer?"

Xander laughed again, moving forward until he stood beside the bed.

It was then Spike noticed the two bowls Xander was holding.

"Well, that too," Xander admitted wryly, his lips twisting upward into a crooked smirk, "but I learned oh so much more than that."

"Really? And just what was that?"

"You'll find out."

**Okay, not liking the sound of *that*!** "What do you mean, I'll learn. Wait, never mind. I don't think I want to know."

"Not even remotely curious about what's going to happen to you tonight?"

Spike shook his head. "Not really. Talking is good. It's been . . . informative, so far." He watched warily as Xander set the bowls on the bedside table.

The scratch and immediate flare of a match startled Spike, and he had to blink way the spots caused by the sudden brightness. Xander lit the two candles Spike always kept by his bed.

"Sorry," Xander said, turning to face him as he blew the match out, "your pretty much out of luck on that. We've got to move ahead, before those cuts heal completely."

**Cuts? Oh, my stomach!** Spike peered down trying to see what Xander had done.

"You Pillock!" he accused, finally making out the words Xander had lightly carved into his skin.

"Now, now," Xander replied, amusement clear in his voice. "It's not nice to call the person who holds the keys to your chains names."

"You git!" Spike laughed, despite himself. "That won't stay, you know. It'll be gone in a matter of minutes."

Xander shook his head. "No it won't," he denied, climbing onto the bed. Straddling Spike's thighs he settled himself on the now worried vampire.

"And why's that?"

Xander picked up the nearest bowl, holding it above Spike. "Finally, all that research at Giles' pays off."

Spike's eyes narrowed.

"All sorts of interesting stuff in there," Xander continued, ignoring Spike's unresponsiveness. "I'm sure some of it, the G-man would prefer we didn't know."

"Oh, I can pretty much guarantee *that*." He eyed the bowl Xander seemed to set such store by. "What's in it?"

"Nothing overly special really."

"You didn't go messing with that dark mojo stuff did you?" Spike asked worriedly. He *really* never had liked that stuff -- especially when it came to being cast on him. And, despite the fact that Xander seemed much more confident now, he was even more concerned about it being *Xander* that tried to cast something on him.

Xander laughed. "No way! I've seen some of the shit that can go wrong with that. I'll stay as far away from that as I can get."

Spike sighed in relief. That was good at least. "Care to explain what's in the bowl then?"

Xander grinned, up-ending the contents of the bowl over Spike's stomach.

Spike arched up of the bed, a startled shout yanked out of him at the surprising pain that arced through the cuts on his belly. Xander had to steady himself to keep from being bucked off. "What the fuck's in that?"

"Like I said, nothing overly special."

Spike growled as Xander began dragging his fingers through the fine powdery substance, driving it painfully into the cuts.

"Ingredient one; Cherry wood sawdust. I chose cherry for the color. I like the dark red."

"You're shoving *wood* into me?" Spike demanded in outrage. Immediately beginning to buck, he completely ignored the strain it put on his body. Xander spread his knees, widening his support base, and clenched Spike's hips with both hands.

"You'd prefer I used a bigger *whole* piece, a little higher up?"

Spike stilled, grinding his teeth together in frustration. That bloody *should* have dislodged the blasted idiot! He wished he knew more about exactly how Margaso blood affected humans who'd been possessed. Xander seemed a hell of a lot stronger than he should be. Unfortunately, before now, he'd never really had the need to know. Rumors was all he had to go on.

"That's better," Xander replied soothingly. "Now, be a good boy and stay still while I finish my artwork."

**Wanker!** Spike thought viciously, wanting so much to vent his frustration. If not for the bloody chip, he would not be *in* this position -- weakened by the Margaso bastards, or not! Of course, if not for the chip he wouldn't have needed to deal with the Margaso in the first place. He could trace every single one of his present troubles back to the initiative and their poking their noses in places they had no business poking!

**At least ground up wood won't make the scarring permanent, no matter what the git thinks,** Spike consoled himself. **A couple of weeks of the humiliation of knowing it's there, and then *poof* it'll fade away.** Spike almost smirked. **Wait!**

"First ingredient?"

"Oh, yeah, there's also pure silver flakes, and the ashes of a flamed vampire. The book was very specific," continued conversationally, never pausing in his work, "it had to be a vampire that had burned. It wouldn't work using the ashes of one that had been staked or beheaded."

Spike shuddered. That was just . . . *gross*. Xander was working pieces of a dead vampire into him! "Tell me you're kidding!" Spike pleaded.

"Nope, I'm really not kidding. I told you those books had interesting stuff in them."

"Don't do this," Spike asked, for once removing all traces of his condescending attitude, and all the bluff and bluster he usually kept up. Even still, he had to pause before continuing, "please." He was no longer worried this was going to head in one of the two obvious directions he had earlier. No, it was worse, it was *far* worse.

If Xander had managed to get his hands on the right -- or wrong depending on your point of view -- books, this situation could turn *seriously* permanent, and to his utter disgust, there wouldn't be a damn thing he could do about it.

Xander stopped his tracing, and leaned over Spike, bracing himself on hands planted on either side of the vampire's bare chest. "Did Buffy say please, too?" he asked. "Did you stop when she did? Or did it take her beating the crap out of you to get you to stop?"

"She didn't have to 'beat the crap out of me'. I stopped, damn it! I realized what I was doing and *stopped*. I got carried away, but I *stopped*." Spike was pissed now. He'd done something wrong, something horrendously *stupid*, but he'd stopped because he'd realized what he was doing, not because of anything anyone else did. "I didn't rape her. I didn't even push all that hard, you bloody wanker!"

"Oh really? I suppose 's w's why she was sporting a bruise the size of a grapefruit? Buffy isn't exactly easy to bruise."

"Oh, get real. She's come away from our bouts of sex with more bruises than she got in that bathroom!" Spike snapped in exasperation, the words out before he could stop them.

Xander's eyes narrowed dangerously, his lips thinning into a tight, unforgiving line.

**Oh, shit! Maybe I shouldn't have brought that up!**

"You *really* shouldn't have mentioned that, Spike. If it was meant to reassure me, in anyway, it backfired."

**Like *duh*!**

"I may be overly impulsive, which gets me into all sorts of trouble I'd really rather avoid, brat, but I'm not *stupid*"

"Good, you should be easy to train then," Xander quipped.

"TRAIN!?" Spike sputtered. "Are you out of you bleeding mind?"

"Yep," Xander retorted, "that's the whole point of the Margaso blood, isn't it?"

Spike stared incredulously at Xander. He couldn't *possibly* be serious.

"Anyway, I'm done," Xander said, suddenly sitting up straight, and carefully brushing the excess powder off Spike's abdomen. Leaning forward, Xander blew gently across the scabbing cuts.

Spike's stomach tightened reflexively as the warm moist air slid across his tender skin.

As Xander leaned toward the table beside the bed, Spike seriously considered trying to dislodge him again. Ultimately he gave it up as a lost cause. It might give him momentary satisfaction, but Xander would still be free, and *he* would still be chained to the bloody bed.

Relieved when he saw the bowl contained only a rag and what he sincerely hoped was plain tap water, he continued to watch warily.

Xander carefully squeezed the excess water out of the washcloth, and proceeded to gently clean Spike's stomach, his gaze fixed firmly on his work.

Spike shifted uncomfortably, the warm water feeling better than he would like -- in his current situation.

"Do I get *any* choice in what does and doesn't happen here tonight?" Spike asked, gratified when his voice sounded completely normal.

His hand stilling, Xander's gaze darted up to Spike's for a brief second before returning to the vampire's stomach. "Depends," he answered with a shrug, this time not stopping his efforts.

Spike cleared his throat. "On what?" he asked carefully. He could see the grin his question provoked, and he *really* didn't like it. Gritting his teeth, he waited as patiently as he could for Xander's response.

"On what it is you *don't* want to do," he replied. "I've got the next couple days completely planned, and I doubt I'll change my mind. Unless, of course, there's something you *want* to do that intrigues me," Xander continued, his voice dropping to a velvet purr.

Swallowing, Spike shook his head.

"I didn't think so. So, what is it that you want to avoid enough that you actually risked asking?"

Spike eyes narrowed as he considered his options. He wasn't sure whether it would be better to keep his mouth shut -- for a change -- or admit what had him . . . concerned.

"Come on, tell me," Xander encouraged, "that way you'll know one way or the other."

With a sigh, Spike, trusting that Xander had probably told the truth about not changing his mind, decided to take the risk. "Well," he began, "considering the setting and all--"

Xander laughed, the sound loud in the previous quiet of their low conversation. "I'm not planning on raping you."

Spike heaved a sigh of relief. That, at least, was one worry out of the way.

"I'm planning on seducing you."

Spike blinked, shock stealing his voice. "You what?" he asked after several moments of trying to speak.

"You what?" Spike repeated when Xander didn't respond, going completely motionless. He couldn't have heard that right!

Xander still didn't respond, just grinned, dipping his head down toward the still healing marks on Spike's stomach.

Spike jumped, startled when Xander's wet, hot tongue flicked out and traced the X in Xander's. The muscles beneath that tongue twitched in response, which got a knowing chuckle from Xander. "Hey, um, not to be obtuse, or anything--"

Xander's tongue darted out again, this time tracing the a. Spike snapped his mouth shut cutting off his own words -- and the moan that threatened to emerge. This was ridiculous. Not five minutes ago he'd been worried that Xander was going to force himself on him, and *now* he was actually reacting to the gentle touches. It didn't make any sense. He didn't want that then, and he didn't want it now. He *wouldn't* want it, either!

He squirmed beneath Xander's tongue, ready to lodge a second protest.

Suddenly, Xander sat straight up, wearing a feral grin. "I'm hungry," he said out of the blue.

Spike swallowed, surprisingly nervous. He didn't understand this Xander. He didn't have a single clue what to expect from him. "Hungry?" he asked warily. "Hungry for what?"

The grin just grew as Xander hopped off the bed and he strode toward the exit. He shrugged half-way there. "At the moment, I'll eat just about anything," he said, then cast a glance over his shoulder before continuing. "Didn't you know, hyenas are carrion eaters." With those parting words, he disappeared through the exit.

Spike shuddered, swallowing convulsively, his eyes drawn of their own accord to the very spots Xander had licked. He *hadn't* known that. Jerking his head up to stare at the now empty room, he wondered if he should be grateful uninhibited Xander hadn't taken a *real* taste. It was going to be a *very* long night, and an even longer time before the blood effects wore off Xander.

He couldn't believe it, but, he *really* wanted the 'white knight' back. At least with him, Spike knew what to expect. He might have to deal with brassed off best friend, but he sure as hell wouldn't have to deal with all this 'seduction' shit! The Xander he knew didn't *like* guys. The Xander he knew, the slightly goofy Xander, sure as hell wouldn't have put a *collar* and *leash* on him, and carved his name into his belly!

Spike groaned. This was bloody getting him nowhere! Jerking on his restraints, he pulled himself toward the headboard until he could raise himself into a sitting position. It was time to get himself out of this mess. He could disappear for a couple of days until Xander was back to himself. He already had enough blackmail material on the git to keep the boy from taunting him too much about 'owning' him. It might even be enough to keep him in smokes for the next year.

He grinned, realizing that this situation just might turn out to his advantage after all.


TBC
Kiristeen
Kiristeen@kiristeen.com