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Never Time Enough # 4

Title: Never Time Enough

Author: Part 1 50ftqueenie… then rngrdead – Ch 2 and beyond

Pairing: Spike/Xander

Warnings/Squicks: M/M relations

Summary: Xander comes back from the past with a secret.

Note From 50ftqueenie: This can stand on its own as a ficlet, but honestly I know there's more to this story. Eventually I might revisit and do my own version….

Part 4


Spike had heard the door click and listened, the memories all but overwhelming him… the yearning driving him from his camp bed to take on physical discomfort, focusing on the stale musty basement smell of discarded household items, his gnawing hunger after almost two days without food, and ache of lying on cold concrete. The quiet dialogue washed into the background as thoughts of Angelus and the years after his Grandsire’s abandonment, Dru’s final rejection, the chip, and all that came after… the time since his return with soul, the madness and Willow’s spell… and now a flood of memories that had apparently been blocked out, memories that at the time made no sense yet now made all the sense in the world…

He was truly in Hell. He could feel him. Spike’s demon remembered as though the hundred plus years simply melted away… it *screamed* to claim his Mate once more, giving and taking blood and seed, marking again and declaring their partnership to the world. And William the man yearned for his gentle touches, his kind words and comfort, his amorous enthusiasm and easy company.

His boy was back, after so many years… their time together so cruelly cut short yet now the strength of the Mating link was so intense that he was unable to throw off his game face, nor stem the bloodied tears.

He curled up on the hard floor, let the cold permeate his being and bit his own wrist for a little comfort. He wondered if Xander had blocked the link – wondered why he had waited so long, whether he felt Spike’s pain.

……………..

Xander sat quietly, far too quietly, at Willow and Tara’s feet.

He had been away and had changed… so had they. The timeline had changed, forever but none of the ‘players’ in the room understood the implications nor the experiences of the ‘other’.

Surprisingly it was Xander who began with the request for specific answers, and with a forthright attitude that was nothing to do with the young ‘loser’ Xander that had been taken from them some three or so years previously.

There was a stillness to the Vampire Mate that Tara and particularly Willow noticed. Quiet questions that were not only calm, but calculated, succinct, and non judgemental.

Xander learned in passing that Anya had been present but moved on when Xander departed – apparently ‘involved’ with a string of men in the town though finally accepted back into the vengeance fold and had recently taken up with a rather wealthy demon who specialized in producing musicals for ‘private viewings’.

The returned Scoobie was visibly pleased to learn of the final take down of the Initiative, unsurprised by the stupidity of the whole ‘government conspiracy’ and expressed his disappointment that he had not been a part of it (privately wishing he had been able to reek vengeance on his Wil’s behalf).

Tara noted his hurt and sadness at the stories of Joyce’s death, Spike’s loyalty and all that ensued with Glory. Xander was horrified to learn of Buffy’s death and the months leading to her supernatural resurrection but completely unsurprised by Spike’s loyalty to Dawn.

Willow could see the tears tracking down Xander’s still youthful face and saw the look of resignation as she ‘skimmed over’ the disastrous liaison between Buffy and Spike that followed. Xander knew why it might have occurred but still grieved for his tender, loyal, William… so very lost, so very giving… and then to seek out the demon trials and a soul!?!!


Eventually sitting at Willow’s feet he placed a cheek against Willows slender leg in a position so familiar with his Wil and wished the hand stroking through his rather long curls was a cool male one rather than the small female one that now pulled through the silky mop in an effort to calm and reassure. Willow understood the pain of losing a partner, if Tara had not been returned to her, the consequences would have destroyed… everything. Yet her childhood friend, had gained and lost through no fault of his own, a part of his very being. To be mated in the vampire sense was… she looked at him hard.

Her kind, jovial Xander shaped friend was present… but his pallor – grey; behaviour subdued; appetite – apparently none; and life energy – waning.

But they had left one question unanswered.

Spike’s consciousness returned just as he heard the beloved voice a storey above query, “What happened to Wil in the Magic Box? Why…? I can feel him Willow. Here, now! Just like always… And he is *mine to feel, just as I am his… so… You know what Giles… What did you… *Why* Willow? Just… Oh Ghhh *why*!!?...”

Willow pulled the man up between them, neither missed the fact that he was still only wearing breaches from the late nineteen hundreds, nor that there was an elegant silver choker around his neck, just above a claiming mark.

Tara knew that the stage was Willow’s. She patted Xander lightly as she rose to make a cup of tea, leaving the two for a private chat

“We lost you… then we had to… oh Sweetie, for *his* sake, we had to!” Willow took the weeping man’s face in her hands and forced him to look at her. “After you disappeared we searched for you… everywhere… for months, we really did!! And Spike was helping us – but there was Adam and the Initiative… and even after that all… well finished, there was really nothing to go on… And Spike was with Giles but then started acting strangely… well more than strange. At first we thought it was the chip but he stopped eating and kept trying to… He was suicidal Xan… He kept saying he couldn’t live without you… that you were… well obviously now you were… but he was desperate and more than a little dangerous… it was like his memories were being altered as we were watching… like he was connected to what was happening in his own past… and it was all changing...”

Xander was openly crying giving no heed to the friend of old. The grief was too bright, the idea that his dear one had endured so long without him… or in an odd way, worse… had his history rewritten progressively, or suddenly as the spell was lifted…

“Oh sweetie, we had to… It was Giles’ idea, the memory block… we just… well we wiped anything to do with you… gone until we could find you… it was the kindest thing… At least that’s what we thought… He was so frantic Xan, hurting himself!” Willow was about to add more but noticed Xander physically jolt and flew to catch her friend as his eyes rolled and Xander curled up in agony, clutching his head, the desperate pain flowing across the link from Spike suddenly so acute that it took his breath away and caused his stomach to rebel. He threw up a tiny amount of bile on her skirt but in too much pain to care, letting his cheek rest in the foul liquid, and giving in to the internal pain.

In the basement Spike was similarly afflicted, feeling the full force of the connection and giving in to his grief and the agony of Xander’s sense of remorse, despite being guiltless of any abandonment or desire to leave his lover all those years ago.

Despite her friend’s distress, Willow took strength from Tara as her blonde partner returned with some ‘spicy Chai and a bikkie’ (quite the habit since the coven and England apparently). The red head quietly conveyed more details of the happenings of the last couple of years - Dawn’s creation, Spike’s heroism, and the circumstances of Buffy’s death. Buffy had been pulled from her eternal rest, and had taken out her frustrations on Spike, what he thought to be love at first was, truth be known, abuse. Xander knew why. His Wil craved touch and willingly gave all of himself to please a lover even if it meant physical pain.

Tara’s death by the hand of the deranged Warren and the supernatural intervention that returned her to save Willow and the earth from destruction sounded all too fanciful, but when the blonde lifted her shirt to show Xander the enormous scar marking the exit wound of a hollow tipped bullet, he knew it to be true. It was further confirmed when she pulled back her hair to reveal pointed ears and allowed her eyes to turn from their human form to the natural fully blue – the whites completely gone and the pupils now vertical as those of a cat.

Willow was on the floor next to Xander, arms wrapped around her friend of old by the time they were explaining Tara’s ‘semi human, mostly fae’ status after the Powers’ intervention, and tried to summarize the consequences, including that she and Willow were destined to be together for all time – eventually as magical energy – compelled to assist others as the price for staying together. Tara took Willow’s hand and squeezed it tight as then described Spike’s ‘melt down’ after Buffy and his drastic act… “He was so… confused and hurting… so he went and fought to get it back! He… he got his soul back, Xan.”

The sun was high in the sky when the wiccan’s finally finished updating their newly returned friend on the happenings since he had been away. Xander finally raised himself into a chair opposite the couch apologized weakly to the kind women, then proceeded to stare out the window in silence. What was there to say?

His life had been so different, admittedly terrifying and confusing at first… but Wil… poor Wil… Xander could feel him hurting even now, kept trying to send love through the link but the pain seemed to overwhelm it. Tara felt the magical ripple first, Willow saw the hurt in her old friend but allowed him his space as he gave in utterly to grief and loss.

In the basement Spike writhed in pain as his Mate all but screamed for him through the newly awakened link.

Xander was eventually too exhausted to cry any more. Curled in a fetal position on the chair, he hiccupped occasionally, but as the two witches moved to get on with the matters of the day, he managed to whisper, “Oh Gh@# Willow, none of you have *any* idea how strong he is… how intelligent, caring, loving… And I can’t… I can’t live without him Wills!!! And now he’s lived over a hundred years without me… me! His Mated human consort! Willow *please* find a way to fix this… us!!! I love him Willow… I love him so much. Send me back Wills… maybe just… I wish… can’t you send me back?”

Eventually too spent and distressed to move, he gave in to semi slumber and remembered the first few weeks as ‘plaything’ to William the young vampire.

…………………

By the third night as captive ‘bed warmer’ for the young vampire William, Xander woke still shackled and now blindfolded only to feel a pair of large, steely strong cold hands hauling him up and buckling a thick leather collar around his neck. A vicious slap to the backside and grunt from the young William was followed by, “You’ve been remiss boy! If twas but a bed-warmer ya wanted would a bought you a dog… so here! At least now he’s collared. I’d break him in for ye too but that your Sire is quite insatiable.”

A second incredibly hard smack of Angelus’ hand across Xander’s backside all but drew blood. “There now all tenderized for ye, so… take him like I showed you with that annoying manservant last month… Surely you’ve not forgotten!?”

The answer was subdued, “No Sire, thank you Sire.” After which Xander felt his backside tugged to the edge of the four poster bed, his legs dangling over and backside exposed. He tensed as a set of soft cool fingers began to gently massage his back and down into the slit of his behind. He tensed a little but then realized that William was trying his best to be considerate despite Angelus’ scrutiny.

“Stop you dilly dally and get on with it boy! I quite fancy a show before breakfast.”

Xander felt the sting of a bite on his buttocks, but rather than drinking the crimson flow was allowed to track down the channel dividing his pretty behind. Mere seconds later he grunted around his gag as one two then three fingers repeatedly breached and stretched his virgin pucker.

“Ahh now see there Willie, he’s ripe for it. ‘N don’t forget ta mark ‘im proper afore you finish or you’ll find a minion or three helpin’ themselves to sloppy seconds.”

Months later Xander would appreciate how gentle and considerate William was as a lover, but that first time was so unknown that all he could do was try not to tense up too much, and desperately pretend he was anywhere but on the edge of a vampire’s bed trussed, lubed, and about to be breached.

Angelus was obviously still in the room as William entered the human for the first time, and seemed to be waiting for confirmation that the younger vampire was able to complete his task.

Eventually a tearful, listless Xander lay on the edge of the bed, neck bitten deeply just above his new collar, backside oozing his vampire Master’s seed, and shoulder blades and hair sticky with a rapidly drying second spending, marking him for all to smell not just see.

It all should have been too terrible to contemplate, but that Will was eventually the one who cleaned Xander, rearranged his limbs and rubbed his now sore behind with sweetly scented oil before putting a small butt plug inside with quiet words of encouragement and the explanation that “It really does help.”

Angelus left them alone and apart from the occasional move to relieve himself in the chamber pot, he had spent virtually the entire first three weeks lying in Spike’s bed. He was bound and blindfolded at first, but eventually just had a lead from his collar to one of the uprights. He hated the butt plug intensely though did acknowledge that it eased William’s way to the point where now the intrusion of a larger undead member was no longer painful – indeed had begun to feel rather wonderful.

The times when he was left alone were the worst. Hours of silence, of nothing to do, of worry; of hearing Dru’s screams as ‘Daddy’ whipped then repeatedly, violently took her; of listening to the muffled cries from the ‘pantry’ downstairs or worse, the thud as yet another dead body was dumped on the floor.

Xander came to yearn for the company of his blonde ‘owner’. When William was there he was attentive to a fault, read to him from the classics, quoted poetry and informed the brunette of matters of the day as though the human was merely an invalid in need of entertaining, rather than a captive waiting for the next time he was compelled to service his master. And finally, after just over a month in the Aurelian household, he was allowed to follow his master downstairs, the short leash ensuring he walked barely inches behind William as they entered the parlor.
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