Feedback: yes plz
Rating: NC-17 overall
Pairing(s): Spike/Alexander, Spike/Angel/Alexander, Angelus/Alexander, Angelus/Spike/Alexander
Warnings: threesomes, vampiric (rough, blood play, mind games) sex, daddy!kink, lalala. . .
Spoilers: All of Buffy, including flashbacks, slightly skewed.
Summary: In an alternate universe starting in season 2 of Buffy (“School Hard”) Spike comes to Sunnydale with Angelus’ mad childe, who wasn’t a young nun with the Sight, but a young monk who’s name meant “Defender of Man.”
Disclaimer: I own nothing that is recognizable in the universe of Joss. Everything else is mine.
Author’s Note: Yes, this is Spike/Xander. It’s just a…different Xander.
Note the 2nd: I realize this part is short, but I promised that I'd try and update once a week and I'm a day over that now. Also I'm still leading in here and after this short chapter we will have a POV change. *g*
Alexander was ill and there was only one cure for it. And that cure was in this rotten little town sitting on top of a Hellmouth.
Alexander’s sub vocal mixture of keen and purr brought Spike out of his recollection of that awful time. He put an arm around the ill vampire, who still looked so very young after 140 years, and pulled him close. The loss of weight and extreme paleness should have made Alexander look desiccated, more like a walking corpse than ever. Instead it gave him an almost ethereal glow, like a spirit nearly lost to this world.
‘Be careful, William.’ He thought to himself with a derisive snort. ‘Your poet’s showing.’
“I’m a kitty.” Alexander’s voice was a deep rumble that gave even the nonsense an erotic timbre. Spike’s entire body tightened at the sound.
“That’s what you are, luv.” Spike felt a sting on his cheek and realized that Alexander had cut him with one razor sharp nail. It was a bit intimate for where they were, but Spike’s inner Victorian was overwhelmed by lust when his boy bent his head and snaked that agile tongue out to lick away the blood. He shuddered and gently took Alexander’s hands and leaned his forehead against the other vampire’s. “Kitten has claws.”
Alexander ‘mmm-hmmm’d’ low in his throat and gently rubbed his forehead against Spike’s. They rolled their heads outward, never losing contact and smiling twin smiles at the Anointed One and his little entourage. Mere mortals would have shuddered at the malice in those smiles. As it was, several of the tiny Master’s court shuffled their feet uneasily.
Spike petted Alexander’s back through the soft, buttery leather as he spoke. “Me and Alex are movin’ in for a while. Got business that needs doin’ and needs doin’ soon. Now, any of you want to test who's got the biggest wrinklies 'round here... step on up. I’ll do your Slayer, but you keep your flunkies out of my way and off my back. Deal?”
The little freak nodded his head. The minions didn’t look happy, but then Spike didn’t care much. As long as he could see his way clear to finding Angelus and getting Alex well without too much trouble…
Alex suddenly moved away from Spike, hunching in on himself and bringing his hands, curled into tight fists, up to his temples.
“I can’t see her. The Slayerrrrrrrr…..” The word was a drawn out violent hiss and roll coming off his tongue. “It’s all dark where she is. Dark and dull and cold. There are Daddy-sparks there, trying to warm her up, but the baby fish just refuse to burn.” Alexander grabbed onto Spike’s shoulders, swaying snake like while glaring into Spike’s eyes.
“Calm down pet, we’ll find her and figure out what’s going on, don’t you worry.” Spike circled his fingers around Alex’s wrists, not trying to remove the hands from his shoulders, simply trying to anchor the increasingly agitated vampire.
“Kill her Spike. Kill her for Kitten?”
“We’ll chop her into messes, luv.”
He put an arm around Alexander’s waist and turned once more to the Anointed One. The cold black eyes had missed none of the exchange and Spike hoped that Master and Court had understood little of what had come from his mad Alex’s mouth. He hoped that they thought of him that way, any way. Poor mad creature, weak and off of his head. For if they thought of him that way, then they wouldn’t listen to what he said, wouldn’t take any of the words seriously. Not like Spike had learned to, oh so many years ago. Darla had never caught on, then again, brains was not what had gotten Darla where she was, a Master of the Aurelian Court and one of the old Master’s only childer. Angelus had understood that the monk he had turned, so young and so emotionally shattered even before the big oaf had gotten to him, had an other-worldly air about him. But that had been only part of what had attracted him to the boy in the first place. Alexander had simply been another of God’s creatures to soil and shame and turn to the darkness. He had nearly bitten off more than he could chew with Alexander though. There had been a darkness in him already, a sly cunning beast that the demon had latched onto and claimed for it’s own. It had never been quite bad enough for Alexander to turn against Angelus, creating the need for the master to put the beast down. But it had been enough to make Angelus’ superstitious Irish mind-set wary of his childe, and all too eager to hand him off to young William’s care. It was telling enough that Angelus hadn’t staked the fledges, neither Alex nor William, when Darla, mostly joking, would ask him to.
He watched the little court for a bit to see if they would say anything else. When nothing was forthcoming, he nodded and led Alex out of the room. There had to be somewhere in this god-awful place he could bed Alex down in relative comfort. He’d calm him down, settle him in for a bit of a nap and then go out and find them a bite. And if he managed to catch a glimpse of either Angelus or the Slayer, well then, so much the better.