Sins Series

Title: Gluttony (1/1)
Author: Tisienne
Series: Sins (#5)
Rating: NC-17 for language and sexual themes/acts.
Disclaimer: Behold, I am not Joss. Which means I’m making no money from this. Pay me in FB. :D
Summary: Spike’s getting closer to the truth… and closer to poor Xan. Too close? Maybe.
P.O.V.: Spike’s again.

* * * * * * * * *

At least he’s finally sleeping through the night now. Not sure if it’s because he’s feeling a bit better or because I make such a point of wearing him out when we come back from our ‘patrols’.

Yeah, we call them patrols, but I know what they really are, even if Xander doesn’t.

Therapy. That’s what it is for him, and I’ll be bloody well damned if I’ll ever say so. Don’t want the bloke brooding off into one of his ‘I don’t deserve to feel better’ moods, do I? Not after I’ve put so much bloody time and effort into bringing him this far, anyway.

So, yeah. We ‘patrol’. Find whatever nasty thing doing no good that we can, and… I stand back and watch my boy take it out.

I help a bit; won’t deny that. Hell, if I wouldn’t let Xander bloody Harris off himself, what are the chances that I’m going to let some piece of shit demon do it?

None.

Not even between slim and none, either. Just… none.

See, thing is… the boy’s mine. Doesn’t know it, of course, but it’s the truth. Covered him in my scent, filled him with me, drank him in and left more than one mark on that still-too-pale skin. An’ maybe I should have asked him, right? Not bloody likely. I don’t feature that conversation as one that would have gone well.

‘Mind if I mark ya, mate? Make ya my own? Ya know, ‘til we head back ta L.A. an’ I can get th’ Mighty Poof ta make it all official-like?’

‘No, Spike, don’t,’ he’d say, I don’t deserve ta be happy an’ smile an’ such… I’m a monster, I deserve ta wallow in pain an’ misery forever because of what I done.’

Easier by far to just do it. Let him carry on about it later. When he’s feeling more himself. When he understands exactly how close he came to drowning in his own…

Fuck, I don’t know what it is he’s been drowning in. But I know more than I did.

Had to call the sodding morons again to get even so much as the first breadcrumb, but I did… and every morning when he finally drifts off, I climb out of bed and log on, and I usually find at least one more crumb to follow.

Bloody Watchers haven’t made it easy, have they? Protecting their own, I guess. Question is, if they’re trying to protect Xan, then how could they let him get so… broken?

Yeah, the whole bleeding organization is made up of fucktards. Knew that, didn’t I? But they seem to have forgotten who they’re dealing with. Or the ones I know have, in any case, and since they’re the ones I’m concerned with at the moment, they’re what counts.

I’m William the Bloody, right? Childe of Drusilla—crazy as the chit always was, still feared in her own right—GrandChilde of Angelus—and fully fledged Master Vampire of the Order of Aurelius.

Saved the world once, shagged a Slayer, drank down two others. I’m a bloody force to be reckoned with and they…

They hurt my boy. Or at the very least didn’t help him. So yeah, they’re still going to die.

Might even let Xan help me with that.

Then again, maybe not, considering how killing one Slayer’s wrecked him. He’d probably go along, of course, because he thinks he’s an evil man, but… I know better, or I think I do. Going to find out, I am.

Because I wasn’t kidding when I told him I was through letting him drift that first night when he let me inside him. Yeah, I’ve still got ‘the mission’ as sodding Angel calls it, but my priorities have changed.

My boy’s my priority now, and… he’ll win out over the mission every time.

* * * * *

He smiles more now. More than he did a few weeks ago, anyway. And late at night, when the sky outside our window is just turning that odd, bright sort of dark, he almost never begs me to hurt him.

‘Harder, faster, bite me, Spike, God please make me cum…’, sure. But he rarely whimpers ‘use me, make me cry’ anymore.

I can’t help thinking that’s a good sign, even though I catch him frowning at himself in the mirror most days. Must be hard for him, after all, knowing whatever he did, knowing he’s not sorry.

Harder still knowing his friends—the ones who should know him best—care less for him than the former enemy turned…

Fuck. Don’t rightly know what we are, do I? Friends? Maybe. Lovers? Not… quite. Won’t say we’re lovers until he understands what we’ve been doing and that’s not going to happen unless…

Strike that.

Not going to happen until I find out exactly what happened to him.

Still, the fact that he’s smiling more has to be a good thing, right?

Like now, in fact.

Learned a few of his fighting-kinks, I have.

Give him a demon killing humans and he’s bloody hell on wheels. Give him someone—anyone—abusing kids…? Hell runs from him, more often than not.

He gets wild, my Xan does. Pulls up some sort of… something… from inside him and when he goes after them… ‘s like he knows what they’re going to do before they do. He’s vicious and cruel and entirely too bloody stunning for his own good. And then after… Yeah, like the after a good bit, I do.

So I watch him from under my lashes, flicking gazes quickly over his body though I know he’s not hurt. A few bruises, yeah. A long scrape on his cheek from when that Fodostin bitch hurled him into the edge of the doorway when she finally caught on to his blind side, but other than that he’s fine.

Covered in slightly smoking splatters of fluid, but fine.

“Have fun, Xan?” I say with a chuckle as he stalks towards me, and yeah, he must be feeling better because there’s a grace to his steps that wasn’t there before. “Look a right treat, pet…”

He pulls the smoldering fag from my lips and takes a long, deep drag, and I can’t hide the frown on my face. Fucked if I’m going to let him find another way to kill himself, even if it is slower.

He smiles just a bit as I snatch the small roll of paper and tobacco away from him, then leans against the lamp post. “Yeah… you could have told me those things have retractable claws, Spike…”

One brow arches and I give him a smug look. “Yah. Could have. Didn’t, pet. Wanted ta see how ya’d handle it, what with bein’ surprised an’ all.”

And just like that, he’s laughing.

I don’t mean one of his usual little chuckles where he sounds half-ashamed to be enjoying himself, but… he’s laughing and it’s a full-on Xander laugh! Bloody hell, his eye’s even sparkling a bit.

It’s the first time I’ve heard him laugh without something dark under it since I found him and I focus, ears peeled for even the littlest bit of bitterness or anger or self-loathing, but… it isn’t there, and I can’t keep from laughing, myself.

It doesn’t last. No matter how much I want it to, it doesn’t last.

I see it when he remembers. I see his mouth tighten, his brows clench closer together. I watch the despair settle over him like a mantle and I stop laughing, too.

“C’mon, luv,” I murmur, holding out my hand, “Let’s get ya home b’fore that thing’s blood eats through your jeans, yah?”

Still count it as a victory when he doesn’t hesitate to wrap his fingers ‘round mine. Time was, I’d have had to fight for even that much.

* * * * *

“Make me forget,” he whispers, sliding one big hand behind him to rest on my hip. “Please, Spike, please… make me forget him… just for a while, okay? P-please…”

Doesn’t matter how many times he says it, it always hurts. Hate it. Hate knowing some bloke’s got his hooks in my boy so deep and hard that he can’t put him from his mind even when I’m inside him. Never been good enough to be someone’s ‘one and only’, have I? Know that. Still, somehow I manage to forget… mostly for the week or two that passes between the reminders.

Can’t tell my Xan that, though. Can’t tell him what he means to me… what this means to me—feeling him around me, trusting me… wanting me enough to let me touch him this way.

Yeah, I’m a demon. And yeah, I have a soul.

Doesn’t make me worthy, does it. Doesn’t make me a good, righteous man.

Doesn’t mean I can ever get enough of this man, either. Damaged, broken, wretched, twisted, dark… whatever he may be, Xander is mine. And I’m bloody well going to make sure he stays mine, aren’t I?

“Nothin’ ta forget, pet… Xan… luv,” I finally whisper against his ear, sliding deeper into him, twisting my hips just enough to pull that shaky little gasp I love so much from his lips. “Nothin’ matters but this. Us. Now. Nothin’ existed b’fore now, yah…? Me inside ya, makin’ ya so full, luv… goin’ ta fill ya with me all night, pet…”

He moans softly and I know his eye is closed, but that’s fine. I couldn’t see it even if it wasn’t. Never lets me do this facing him; I’m guessing he’s afraid of what his face might show. Never does me, either, and fuck if I know why.

Don’t much care for the ‘why’ at the moment, either, because my boy is as tight and hot as only a human can be, and…

“Goin’ ta have ya over an’ over, luv,” I growl softly, feeling the shiver just under his skin. “Have ya ‘til I can’t stand ta have ya any more. An’ then, when ya wake up from bein’ shagged unconscious?” I nip at his shoulder, blunt teeth becoming sharp in an instant as the demon slips out, “I’m goin’ ta have ya again. Won’t be able ta remember anythin’ but me, Xan…”

And bloody hell, I wish that were true.

* * * * *

He wheezes slightly when he sleeps, my Xan does. Used to be, he snored. Remember that like bleeding crystal from the old days, but now he wheezes.

Almost enough to have me worried, that, but… I’d know if he was ailing. Be able to smell it, wouldn’t I?

So, no. Xander’s not sick, as such. Not physically. But his soul is. His heart is. And now… now I finally know why.

Took weeks to find all the bloody tiny clues, weeks to read between the lines. Night after night of surfing the bloody net ‘til I thought my eyes would bleed, but it was worth it.

Might not know all the details, but I get it. I know what happened to my boy. Know not only what he did, but why!

Want to jump up and shout, want to scream my relief into the sky. Knew he wasn’t the monster he said he was. Knew it!

But a part of me wondered. Part of my soul wondered. Good people do bad things every bleeding day. Get caught up in desperate emotions, lose themselves in hatred or fear or jealousy… but not my boy.

Know there was a part of him that was jealous, now that I know who he’s been trying to forget, but… that wasn’t what it was about.

White hat to the end, he is. Did what needed to be done. Deserved a bloody medal, even.

And the Watchers—and his ‘friends’—have been punishing him for it ever since and I am going to kill them for it.

I’d hop a plane right now if I didn’t know he’d wake up alone and think the worst. Not to mention the bright bloody winter’s day and my lack of desire to be a flaming vamp… again.

‘s alright, though. I know now. Still need to hear it from the bloke himself, but that’ll come.

Until then, I’m going to do just what I told him.

I’m going to crawl back into bed and hold him tight. And when he wakes up…

“Goin’ ta do ya so good, luv,” I murmur, pulling the blankets up to our chins as I tuck myself gently between the toned globes of his ass, “Won’t remember Wave as anythin’ but a soddin’ nightmare…”

And so what if I never stop touching my bloke? Think he deserves to know how worth touching he is.

And ‘enough of Xander’ really only lasts a minute or two, so… I can give him that.

Forever, if he’ll let me.

~End.


(A/N: Many thanks to nulinka and Windssong for the reviews on the last part. *hugs for you*)