rngrdead (rngrdead) wrote in bloodclaim,
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Never Time Enough # 5

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 5

Xander was dressed only in one of Wil’s night shirts and was aware of how cold the house was after being ensconced in a fluffy bed for the past (to his knowledge) five weeks. He was far thinner than when he arrived and felt like the invalid family pet as he struggled to keep close to Wil as he was led down the flight of highly polished wooden stairs, the hallway complete with ornate banister and overly fussy wall paper.

The house was certainly a fine example of upper middle class living in the last decade of the nineteenth century, though Xander noted, in his rather dazed state, that the woman scurried past in a parlor maid’s prim uniform, was very pale and had the distinctive bite mark of a minion on her neck, her status confirmed when she leveled yellow eyes at the young Master William’s plaything, earning a growl from the Aurelian Childe.

In contrast to the vaulted ceilings and open elegance of the entrance hall, the parlor was warm, overly stuffed with furniture and had almost every inch of the wall covered in paintings. The fire was blazing and Angelus seated smoking and reading aloud an exaggerated newspaper account of the latest ‘murder spree in the West End’ whilst having his feet massaged enthusiastically (though a little ineptly) by a rather disheveled looking Drusilla.

He appeared to pause for dramatic effect then dropped the paper and leaned forward to cup the chin of his dark Childe. “Look you my darlin’, your boy has brought his plaything down to entertain us at last.”

William seemed at once contrite and not a little tense, “Grandsire, you called for me to attend you before your evening hunt. I merely understood…” Xander was pushed down to kneeling at Spike’s feet but felt so dizzy from blood loss and the walk downstairs that he lost balance a little and ended up leaning against William’s leg.

At the nervous declaration, Angelus pushed his vampire masseur onto her backside, stood and strode over to his Grandchilde barefoot, large cigar still in hand and tieless shirt untucked. “Yes, I did. I did at that. Your dotty Sire here is startin’ t’ get on me nerves, and I fancied ye may hap’ schooled yer toy in some skills as might serve for an evenin’ o’ interest?”

Xander was already feeling ill, but had come to understand his captor Wil rather well over the last few weeks. There was a fight or flight response building in the well toned slim legs, Xander could feel it, as his leash had become taut. Despite the weeks of ‘new life’ as boy toy keeping ‘young Wil’ distracted, it was Xander of Sunnydale coupled with (what he now realized was) a genuine liking of his blonde protector/owner that interpreted the scene. He did not trust Angelus further than he could throw him, which, even without his current weakness, would be a dismal effort at best. He was in no state to run let alone assist but tried to convey his willingness to do his best for his new keeper nevertheless by squeezing the blonde vampire’s ankle and trying to push up a little.

The standoff was but seconds long, however, as Dru giggled from her position on the floor, crawled over to the kneeling human, sat as if to study him, then scored the midline of his forehead and nose with the razor-sharp nail of her forefinger and licked off the resulting blood.

Xander vaguely wondered if this was to be his end but took strength from William’s touch and remained still. He silently stemmed a shiver as Dru turned with a pout to her Sire, “He’s all a disappointment Daddy. Doesn’t like my girlie parts at all! Blood just singing for our Willie… and poor Daddy, Mummy’s bustle still a flutter for the Master… poor Daddy.”

Angelus frowned momentarily as Drusilla cocked her head and stared vaguely at the potted parlor palm in the corner before turning to her Sire and changing mood as though a switch had been thrown. “Ooooohhh the stars are so bright tonight, it’s sure to be jam and cream for tea. Miss Edith will be ever so pleased!” Dru clapped gleefully then stood and began to sway, raised her arms above her head and began to chant, sing song fashion, punctuating each strange statement with a hip wiggle. “And. Daddy’s. Going to. Tie me up. All shackles and moss, ‘cause I’ve been ever so good, I’m always so good… And Willie’s got kitty, ‘cause he’s been ever so good, ever so good!”

Angelus had apparently had enough. The dark Master of the house growled a warning moments before moving with speed not traceable by the human eye and knocking Drusilla out with a single punch. He then flung the unconscious mad vampire unceremoniously onto the chaise lounge in the corner, growling as he made his way to the tray sporting crystal carafe of brandy and matching glasses. “Pay her no mind. I’ll have her restrained later needs be.”

Xander felt a calming, familiar hand in his hair and without realizing it, responded to the comfort, subtly pushing into it and giving away his true feelings with a slowing heart beat and hint of arousal.

Angelus didn’t miss the change, “You’ve trained your pet well, boy…” The older vampire dropped into game face but made no move toward the human. Xander sensed that his protector was being tested and wracked his brain for some of the lessons from Giles’ books. In the end he dropped his head to the side away from Wil’s leg, exposing his neck and the scabbed mark where William had bitten him at least daily since his arrival.

William did not move, even when Angelus stood as though to take the offer, but as Xander waited, the surprised blonde vampire was kissed on the cheek and the hapless human ignored. “Oh, I *am* impressed m’ boy. Seems my dark princess was right to find you such a plaything. But tonight I would have your company, ‘tis more than time you and I enjoy a hunt without female encumberances… I fancy sport of the *male* variety.”

Xander must have passed out shortly after, waking briefly to the smells and comfort of William’s bed but also aware that he was alone. He leaned over to the small side table and sat up just enough to lift the beaded linen cover from the water pitcher and pour himself a drink, before collapsing back again and sleeping on.

The next week or so had a similar timetable, though after a few days of better food he was feeling decidedly more energetic. After Angelus approved of the pet, he had taken Wil to a demon friend of his to ‘give the Childe advice regards his human bleeder companion’ and consequently each evening, Xander was presented with a platter near overflowing with a variety of cold meats, pickles, cheese, fresh fruit and bread. Wil would not let him out of bed until it was finished *and* he had washed down the meal with a bottle of increasingly more pink, satisfying, though rather tasteless ‘juice’.

Unexpectedly his role in the parlor became one of hairdresser to the mad dark ‘princess’.

He was initially encouraged to brush her long brunette locks as a means of calming her but soon took to braiding the tresses just as he had Willow’s when they were youngsters. And with nothing better to do and no right to speak when in the presence of Wil’s deadly elders, Xander spent increasing lengths of time weaving intricate patterns in the vampire’s hair using flowers, various ribbons and even jewels. Drusilla’s obvious delight was strangely comforting to the captive Scoobie as he saw Wil congratulated on the human’s behavior and reaped the benefit of Wil’s happiness at his Sire’s approval, via loving touches and increasingly more amorous sessions in their shared bed.

But in Xander’s fourth month in the household everything changed. Darla sent word. She was to return within the fortnight.

………………

Xander woke to the realization that someone had covered him with a blanket during the night and that he had missed the smell of Willow’s freshly baked cookies.

He rose rather stiffly, judging it to be around midday by the sun alone. He could feel it now, the ache in his chest that made swallowing hurtful and his hands shake. He knew it was coming but there was no point worrying his friends. Giles probably already knew and the others would find out soon enough if …

He focused on the daylight of Southern California, all too bright and so different to even the summers in England and Europe. He found himself wishing for the grey, the rain, the cold… instead of cheery sunlight and a note on the mantelpiece that read, “Didn’t want 2 wake U. No.s for Scoobies r by phone. Help yourself 2 food etc… T + W home by 6 XXOO P.S. Giles called - back 2 UK Sat.”

Xander stared at the message for a moment too long then registered the smell coming from the kitchen that made his stomach growl – Willow had baked cookies that morning. It should have been familiar, but instead felt like a reminder of things lost.

Wandering into the bright room with its bowl of fruit on the table and cooling rack piled high with chocolate chip treats, he opened the fridge. The act itself felt… worrying. ‘Help yourself’, the note had said, but bags marked ‘beef blood’ in the fridge reminded him…

He took one, snipped it and found the large red soup mug with the message ‘I like it hot’ on the sink drainer. He emptied the contents into the mug and used a microwave again for the first time in close to three years. The knife he had used to slice open the bag was still in his hand as he reclaimed the now warm mug and found his way to the door of the basement.

The basement reeked of blood, fresh blood, Spike’s.

Rather than turning on the light, Xander let his changed status emerge and yellow eyes seek out he who was so precious… and now so broken.

What he saw made him positively ill. Spike, his Wil, was on the floor curled in a ball. He had apparently torn through clothing and bitten himself repeatedly, leaving open wounds to bleed out. Xander understood the feeling, the knife in his hand would have done the same had he not been so focused on finding Wil. Now he did use it for the preferred purpose.

He slid down to sitting on the cold floor and lifted his Mate’s head, turning the all too light body until the vampire was lying, head tilted back and in a position where his semi open mouth might drink… then Xander slit his own wrist crosswise.

The vampire coughed a little as the first few drops fell against the back of his throat, then latched on. After several seconds, the vampire’s mate felt the familiar speeding of a heart being starved of the fluid that drove it. Timing was everything and Xander knew from experience that he could supplement his own offering with a far greater volume of (in this case) animal blood dribbled past the wrist and into the waiting mouth. A few days earlier, it would have been Sire’s blood or fresh human that was offered to restore and preserve the blonde.

The groan, pull, and final lapping of the wound was familiar. The silent tears, rocking and comfort purring were rarities – only occurring in their other life when Wil had been most in distress.

Xander gently eased Spike onto the bed again, spooning him and warming him in a way that caused the damaged vampire to cry all the more and accept the offered wrist, not to feed but just suckle as a child might a pacifier. All the while the human whispered phrases of endearment that the poor chipped and ensouled vampire had missed for over a century as he tasted the ambrosia that was his mated human’s blood and recalled a hundred plus years of confused memories. His own mental state since the return of his soul had been confused in the extreme – and of late – since the memory ‘restoration’, it was pushing to levels of contradiction and confusion worthy of the effects of the worst psychedelic drugs of the sixties.

And so the survivor of Angelus, Darla and Dru, escapee of Nazis and Initiative, killer of two Slayers and lover of one now found himself sobbing shamelessly, desperately, longingly, into the arms of… him. There could be no more exquisite torture. Spike could taste him, smell him, feel his arms and legs and body… but it was all impossible… Xander was… here. Spike gave in to the insanity and finally snuggled and cried himself to sleep.

Xander held the cool body as his wrist healed and… remembered, his own recall changed by freakish circumstances, and experiences of bygone years.
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