All I Need...

* * * * * * * * *

Part 40

“I had hoped to unnerve him enough that he would leave,” Illyria answered mechanically, not entirely certain of why she was even responding to her pet’s demands. “He is unnecessary to my existence and therefore to yours.”

Spike snarled, his Mate’s hands on his arms—and the affection he still bore for Fred—the only things keeping him from destroying the bloody bint where she stood.

Xander sighed, silently agreeing with Hyulet that they’d have to teach the so-called God a lesson, and soon. Possibly by sparring with her/him/it… whatever. “Fine. You made me nervous. Good job, there. But notice me not leaving?” He smirked. “Hellmouth born and bred, lady. It’d take a lot more than some random ‘I’m being watched’ feeling to get me to leave Spike. Hell, you’d have to kill me.”

The Hell God frowned. “As you are now Mated to my pet, the extermination of your shell would ruin any possible amusement he might provide.” And as far as Illyria was concerned, that was the end of it.

Xander chuckled softly, pulling the tense blond in front of him back hard against his chest as he scanned Angel’s office and the rest of his pack.

“Fran’s alive,” he murmured, stating the obvious, “even if she did age close to ten years from that… ritual. Dawn’s fine, or she will be once she’s finished being grounded for life…”

Spike moaned softly, his fury with Illyria swiftly becoming a different sort of heat. “Soddin’ Sire’s broodin’ away like always…”

“Think they’d notice if we headed off for that… week in bed, baby?”

The vampire purred, rocking himself back against the hard body behind him. “Takin’ off,” he stated loudly, smirking at the sudden glances his tone earned. “Franny? Thanks, luv! Th’ years look good on ya… an’ maybe old Rupes won’t feel like he’s robbin’ th’ cradle now, yah?” He smirked as both Slayer and Head Watcher blushed.

Xander groaned and dragged Spike towards the door.

“Expect an invite ta th’ weddin’, we do!” the blond shouted, even as his Mate pulled him from the room.

* * * * *

Giles blinked as the door swung shut behind his son and his… “Oh, bloody hell, does this make Spike my son-in-law?” he groaned.

Dawn laughed although she didn’t have enough energy at the moment to do much more than that. “Hey, you’re the one who was all supportive of them in the first place. I didn’t even know about it ‘til way after the fact. Deal.”

Deep brown eyes crinkled slightly at their newly older edges and Fran wisely chose to sip her tea and say nothing. Of course, that might have had something to do with the fact that she didn’t particularly want to draw Giles’ attention to his hand on her shoulder… or the fact that she definitely deserved whatever punishment he had in mind.

The Watcher sighed and nodded slightly. “Yes, well… I was rather more concerned for their continued existence than any possible discomfort I might be caused, wasn’t I?”

The younger Summers sister rolled her eyes and laughed again. “Whatever, Giles. Like none of us can tell that you like Spike and think he’s good for Xan? Tell me another one.”

Fran found herself grinning as Giles sputtered and made careful note of Dawn’s methods. Her future boyfriend—if she could call a grown man her ‘boyfriend’—was adorable when he was flustered, after all. And she would date the man now that her apparent age matched more closely to the age she’d always felt.

Angel groaned silently, his head throbbing from the flurry of words being exchanged. They’d all been through an incredibly traumatic evening, and yet he seemed to be the only one feeling the effects of it because…

Dawn was laughing and taunting Giles, Giles was stammering replies but was also smiling, and Fran… well, for whatever odd reason, Fran seemed to be the least disturbed of them all, which was just bizarre considering the fact that most human women fought aging with a passion and yet here was a Slayer, suddenly older and… embracing it!

It was only then that Angel finally managed to put everything together, and… “It was Fran!” he announced disbelievingly, staring at Giles. “The too young girl you were so worried about loving! It was Fran! And she’s happy to be older, so she must feel it too!”

And somehow Dawn found the energy to force herself quickly from the couch. “Uh, I’ll just be heading off to bed, guys… see you!”

The fact that none of them noticed the Key practically running from the room was something of a statement regarding how stunned they all were—even Angel, and he’d said the fateful words.

“I never,” Giles began, just as Fran announced “Of course I…”

They both stopped speaking upon hearing each others’ words.

“But you… Fran, it’s not right… I was entrusted with…”

“I’m a grown woman, Giles… and more so now, and…”

“You are still far too young to…”

“I’m the most mature person you know… with the possible exception of Mrs. Cook!”

“I… well, yes, but only because everyone I know is…”

“Shut up, Rupert. I’m old enough to know what I want.”

“Only because you… you foolish, foolish girl! You could have died!”

“I could have died every single time I left the House, Rupert. Would have, one day. This way, it would have made a difference.”

“Bloody stubborn, careless, infuriating… beautiful… girl…”

Angel wrenched his eyes away from the spectacle of Giles removing his glasses and leaning closer to the brunette. “I, uh… I’ll be expecting an invitation to the wedding, too,” he muttered, wincing as he left his own office, although he was fairly sure Giles and Fran wouldn’t… do anything too intimate… on his couch. Or his floor. Or his desk, for that matter, and damn Spike and Xander for making him even think about such things being done in his work space.

* * * * *

They barely made it to their rooms, but Xander didn’t care… and they were their rooms now; not just Spike’s.

It amazed him how much of a difference one scar made to his perception of things, but there it was.

He was officially Spike’s, finally. He could feel the scar every time he turned his head, even if he hadn’t had the chance to look at it in a mirror yet.

His lips were hot and hard on the full, cool mouth of his Mated, and Xander didn’t care that he couldn’t see the scar. He’d see it later… much later. Maybe in a week, although he had a feeling his beloved had completely underestimated the amount of time they’d be spending in their bed.

“Love you,” he mumbled, hands fumbling roughly at cotton and denim, even as slightly smaller and much cooler hands returned the favor on his own clothing. “Fuck, Spike, love you so much… Mate, my Mate…” And Hyulet roused, hissing softly at their blond, adding his agreement with the sentiment.

Spike groaned, the desperation for his Xan’s skin against his own building even higher than it had been in the White Room. “Mine,” he snarled, golden eyes closed, ridges pressing against his love’s hot, slightly sweaty neck as he literally tore the fabric from Xander’s body. “Mine!” he announced again, growling when his own clothes finally met a similar fate.

He couldn’t wait. Couldn’t stand the few seconds it would take to get to the bedroom and throw his Primal down. Couldn’t bear to spend whole minutes preparing his bloke and taking him slowly, the way he deserved to be taken… couldn’t do anything but push him hard against the wall beside their bedroom door and thrust roughly against him, sharp, jagged teeth finding their way unerringly to the already prominent scar.

Xander howled roughly, his head falling back to slap against the wall and one hand rose, grasping the back of Spike’s head as the blond rubbed against him, fangs buried deep. “Yessssss…” he and his beast moaned, free hand sliding down that strong, silken spine to dip into the cleft of the most perfect ass in the world.

“Yesssss,” he moaned again when Spike broadened his stance, letting thick fingers find and dance over—then into—the tight little hole he craved. “Sssspike…” he added, arching his neck harder into the sharp fangs and gasping as the erotic sensation of his blood being drawn to feed his Mate grew stronger.

The vampire snarled, hips rocking hard against his Xander’s, cock sliding against the hotter one, the motion slicked by their fluids, then rocking back onto the two fingers pressed so deeply inside him. He nearly crawled up his bloke’s sturdy body, a yelp muffled by tanned skin when the hand in his hair suddenly shifted, and…

And the wall was against Spike’s back suddenly, the fingers that had been inside him now holding him open, and Xander was, Xander was, Xander was…

Inside him! Oh, gods, he was inside Spike, so deep, so fucking deep, and the wall behind Spike was holding him up just as much as his strong, hot hands were, and he was going to lose it any second, going to explode and just… cum and cum and never stop cumming, and… “Love you,” he gasped, neck still arched hard against those hungry lips. “Love you,” Xander groaned again, his body pistoning roughly, plumbing the depths of his Mate’s insides.

Long, pale legs wrapped tighter around Xander’s solid waist and Spike finally pulled away from the perfect fount of his lover to shout his pleasure into the air, his own neck offered wantonly to his Mate. “Please…” he begged, “Please, Xan… please, luv, pet, precious… bloody fuckin’ hell, please!”

“Never tell you ‘no’,” Xander managed to admit before he couldn’t resist anymore and drove his own teeth roughly, deeply, lovingly into the pale expanse of skin, the fullness of his beloved’s essence flowing into and through him in a flash of perfection that he never would have recognized before Spike’s bite had scarred.

It was the knowledge that he’d feel the same degree of wholeness every time he tasted Spike from that moment on that had him tensing, sac drawing up tight as he shuddered and shook, spilling long and deep into the tight, cool sheath around him… and when he felt the answering gush of fluid against his stomach, heard the soft, fulfilled howl filling the air, Xander knew.

“All I needed,” he mumbled, tongue lapping almost gently at the seeping wound on his vampire’s throat, “was a miracle… and I found it Spike.”

The blond purred softly, even as his Mate carried him through the doorway and collapsed on top of him on the bed, the action driving the slightly softened shaft within him deeper still. “All I need… is ya,” he murmured, arms and legs tightening around his Xan, holding him right where he was as they both drifted swiftly off to sleep.

* * * * *

Six months later, Xander and Spike found themselves in England and dressed in matching tuxedoes. They didn’t live there, of course. They were working with Wolfram and Hart, and even lived in a small but very posh house high in the Hollywood Hills which had once belonged to the firm but was now theirs by law.

No, they weren’t in England for any reason other than to see Xander’s ‘Father’ and Fran wed.

There had been a bit of a fuss when Fran’s brother had shown up; mostly because Xander had never imagined that it would be the same man he’d met so briefly in Uganda when he’d still thought Spike was some sort of impostor… but also because Spike had gotten extremely possessive of his Mate as soon as the tall and definitely attractive bloke had shown up.

Still, once Clint had known the two males were attached, he’d simply treated them as family, which had gone a long way towards calming them both.

The ceremony itself was very traditional, and even Spike had to admit that Fran looked a treat in her white gown.

“Of course she does,” Dawn said smugly when he mentioned it later, “She came to see me in Rome, and when I say we checked every designer, I do mean every. It was fun!”

“Thank the bloody fuckin’ Powers I Mated ta a bloke, then,” the vampire said back, much to her amusement. “Couldn’t have waited for th’ weddin’ day, anyway. Old Rupert must have th’ willpower of a bloody saint.”

Xander stood up as best man, and when the time came for his toast, he simply raised his glass and spoke softly into the microphone for the literally hundreds of Watchers who’d managed to attend.

“Most of you know me,” he said, blushing just a bit because public speaking still wasn’t his thing. Hell, he felt just like he’d felt on Talent Night, way back in the Dale. “In fact, most of you probably wish you didn’t!”

He smiled, encouraged by the expected laugh that got him.

“I’ve known Giles for… well, forever, it seems like, and he’s a good man. Smart, as we all know…” Another laugh. “Strong… because how else could it be that his Slayer…” he looked at Giles and Fran and grinned, “His first Slayer, I mean… is still alive? He’s the one who taught her, right? But what most of you might not know is that he’s funny, too. And has a heart the size of… well, Hell. If we were back home I’d say Texas, but you guys—and girls—all know what I mean.”

Spike drained his glass and refilled the flute with the pale whiskey he’d been hiding under the table. “He’s a wanker,” he muttered, blinking when the microphone caught his words; then laughing when Fran’s reply of ‘not after tonight’ was also amplified.

Xander blushed again, darting a warning look at his Mate. “Anyway… my point—and I did have one—is that Giles is a smart, strong, funny, capable and loving man. He took not only Buffy but the rest of us, too, into his heart and he loved us with a quiet determination and joy that made each and every one of us want to be worthy. And now…”

He smiled sincerely, looking at Fran.

“And now he’s found someone who makes him feel that same way. And he is worthy, and even better, Fran knows it. And whatever magics were involved in making their union possible, I’m sure the Powers had a hand in it because knowing them both the way I do, I can’t imagine there being anyone better for either of them than each other.”

Fran’s smile was brilliant, even with the small glimmer of tears at the corners of her eyes. “You know you’re right, Xander,” she called to him, deliberately making her voice ring. “Besides, which, he’s well and truly stuck with me now!”

Giles merely smiled, his cheeks still pink from pure disbelieving satisfaction. “And that is precisely how I wish it be, dearest,” he murmured solely for Fran’s ears.

“So here’s to Giles and Fran,” Xander finished, raising his glass higher. “May they always know each others’ hearts and souls, and may they never feel less blessed than they truly are. Real, true love is hard to come by. They are blessed.”

* * * * *

Spike’s toast as Fran’s ‘Demon of Honor’ was much shorter.

“Chit’s made her choice, yah? Coulda done better but I don’t see how. Rupert’s a good bloke an’ he’ll treat her right or he knows he’ll be answerin’ ta me. Hope they live as long as they love an’ love as long as they live. Cheers. Can we get on ta th’ partyin’ an’ food now? Want ta dance with my bloke, I do.”

* * * * *

Considering everything that had happened over the last year or so, the funny thing to Xander was that Fran hadn’t blushed much when he, Spike, and pretty much the rest of the inner circle had seen her naked, nor when Giles and she had left for England six months earlier and Fran had been walking with a care that implied her ass was sore.

No, the funny thing was that he’d never seen Fran blush as deeply or as wildly as she did when Spike kissed her cheek at the airport a few days after the wedding and called her ‘little Mum’.

Then again, he figured Fran sort of was Spike’s Mother. Step-mother, anyway, if Giles was standing in stead of Tony Harris, which he definitely was.

It wasn’t until they were on the Council jet and halfway across the ocean that Spike came clean, and by the time they’d changed planes at Dulles, getting onto the Wolfram and Hart luxury sky-yacht—as Spike called it—Xander was already making notes about cherry wood and lacquer for the cradle he would build.

Spike smiled tenderly, running long, pale fingers through dark silken locks as he listened to his blokes muttered words. Xander was going to love having a sibling, he realized… and maybe they’d be moving to England after all.

~End.