bmblbee (bmblbee) wrote in bloodclaim,
bmblbee
bmblbee
bloodclaim

Therapy

Title: THERAPY
16/17
Author: BmblBee
Paring: S/X
Rating: Adult NC17
Warnings: M/M sexual situations, adult language, reference of violence.
Disclaimer: The Bee owns nothing in this world but her own peace of mind.
I have no claim on any of the characters or products named and make no profit
from my stories.

Summary: AU (Human? Vampire?)
This is the simple tale of a successful psychiatrist with a busy practice.
Dr. Alexander Harris lives and works in the rich and colorful area of the Florida Keys
and everything about his life seems right on track. Then, one day a man comes to
him for help. He is troubled with a history of violence that he hopes therapy can
teach him to control. Clear cut? Maybe not.




As always, thanks to the wonderful Petxnd for the amazing banners and loyal friendship



Xander's apartment was large and open. The living room was the main space with
a small kitchenette in the far rear corner separated from the living room by an ornate
carved bar. A hallway off the rear right side led to the den, two bedrooms, and
two baths.

Spike crossed the living room, sniffing subtly as he went. His nose guided him to
the whisky that he sought but it also told him more. As he passed the archway to
the hall, he paused and inhaled deeply.

The apartment carried only Xander's scent. There was no trace of any other man or
woman having been here. While the knowledge soothed Spike's possessive vampire
side, it saddened him to know his boy had been alone and lonely.

Making himself at home, Spike poured two glasses of golden courage and he carried
them back to where Xander still stood. He then sat down, put the drinks on the
coffee table and nodded for Xander to sit too. He slowly pushed one of the glasses
toward his companion.

"No, thanks, Spike. You know I don't drink well. Look at what happened last night
after only a few beers. I think it has an adverse reaction with all the meds I have
been on."

Spike took a big swallow of his own and nodded. He remembered recoiling at
the sharp, bitter taste in Xander's blood when he kissed him. The medications
were strong, overpowering and it was no wonder they controlled his perceptions.

"Yeah, well, you might change your mind before we are done."

By now, Xander was getting impatient. He was tired, frustrated and bordering on
angry. He wanted answers and he wanted them NOW.

"When you came to me Spike, you told me a story about you and another man who
fought beside you. At the time, I thought maybe you had been in Iraq but I know now,
from Jack, that the battle was closer to home. Tell me the story again, Spike. Tell
me about us and the final battle. Then tell me how I got here and why you left me.
Tell me why you dumped me in an insane asylum and you went on with your life."

Xander knew in his heart that wasn't true and he could tell by the stunned, crushed
look on Spike's face that the accusation was nowhere fair or accurate, but he didn't
care. He was tired, burnt out and his nerves were strung tighter than a cat's gut on a
honkytonk fiddle.

Spike swallowed his drink in one gulp and poured another. If Xander wanted
the cold hard truth, then that is exactly what he would get.

"We had been fighting the First for weeks. It was the original Evil, the first evil in the
world and we had no real hope against it or the army it sent to defeat us. We were
hold up in Buffy's house. There was Buffy, Anya, Andrew, Dawn, Giles, Faith,
Willow..."

"Willow? Rosenburg? She was my best friend. Was Jessie there too?"

Spike shook his head.

"I don't know who that was, but, no. Please, Xander, if I have to tell this, just let
me do it. Don't interrupt."

Xander closed his mouth and sat back. He might just need that drink after all.

"Anyway, the First was kicking our arses. He had sent an ubervampire that we
thought was undefeatable. It took out a couple potentials but Buffy was still the
main slayer and she finally killed it. We thought it was a victory, but it only made
things worse. The night before the last battle of the war everyone in the house
believed it was our last night on earth. We all expected to die. The things I told
you earlier were true. You and I had grown close. We kissed and we made love.
I wondered if it was real or just the stress of the moment, but ultimately, I didn't care.
I loved you so much, I didn't care."

None of the words Spike was using made any sense to Xander Words like 'ubervamp'
'slayer' or 'potential'. Potential what, he wondered. But one thing stuck out and he
forgot his promise to stay silent. He had to know.

"Loved. Past tense?"

"I'm not going to answer that yet, Xan. It wouldn't be fair to you. Not when your
memory of me is still fuzzy. To get back to that morning, we all met at the school where
the army of evil was waiting. The battle was brutal and to be honest, we were losing
badly. People were screaming and dying all around us. The flames and the heat were
unbearable. Our only hope was to hang on long enough for Red to do her spell, her
magic that was somehow connected to an amulet I wore. Long story short, it worked.
It blew the roof off the building and in the glare of sunlight, the army of vampires
exploded into flames. Unfortunately, it also brought down the building and the survivors
had only minutes to escape. Buffy grabbed you by the arm and dragged you out at the
last second. As the school went down, it took the whole town with it into a crater that
looks like a small Grand Canyon. All of you got away just in time. The next day, Buffy
and Giles realized you were unresponsive and they took you to the hospital. They
concluded that seeing me die was the final straw and you snapped. You were transferred
to Florida because they wanted you far from California, and because their research told
them Jack Elliott and the Miami clinic were the best in the world."

Xander just stared at him. That was a story with holes big enough to drive an elephant
through. It answered his initial questions clinically and cleanly but it skirted the emotions and
the pain completely and it only created a dozed more puzzles for his brain to try and unravel.

"What about you? Obviously I was wrong. You didn't die. Why didn't you come with
me? You said you were captured by the enemy. If we won, where were you? You
said we were lovers and that we promised to be together. Are you a liar? Are you?
Why the hell did you wait so long? Why come to me now?"

Spike looked away sadly.

"Funny reason really. Seems there has been a slight shift. A minor crack in a demensional separation. There is no immediate danger, but if we don't act now, it could allow the
First to seep back in to our demension and we can't allow that. We need you to come
back, Xander. If Red is to repeat the original spell, you have to be there. You are the
most important part. I have wanted to come to you before. I've wanted it every day
since I returned but I couldn't. I couldn't do that to you. That Elliott bloke said we
had to wait. That someday you would remember but rushing that and forcing it could
cause another mental breakdown. Unfortunately, we had to try. They thought if anyone
had a chance at stirring your memories, it would be me."

Xander just blinked. This had to be bizarro world. None of this could be real.
"What the fuck are you talking about? Spells? Dementional cracks? Who the fuck
are you Spike? Who the hell are you really?"

Spike looked calmly into the frightened brown eyes and he knew. This was it. This was
the moment.

"Who am I? I'm Spike. I'm your Spike, Xan. Trust your instincts. You are asking
the wrong question. Listen to your heart and ask the question again."

Xander's brow wrinkled in frustration. He was sick of word games. He was tired of
guessing and dancing around. Still, he had the feeling that the truth was within him.
It was close enough to grasp, but he couldn't quite touch it. After closing his eyes
and dropping his head, Xander finally looked up calmly and he tried again.

"WHAT are you Spike?"

With that, Spike's beautiful face and clear blue eyes slid away, replaced by yellow
slitted cat's eyes, a thick, furrowed bony brow and the longest, sharpest fangs Xander
had ever seen.

Xander picked up the glass of whisky and he swallowed it in one gulp. As the burn
of the alchol hit his throat, a tidal wave of memories slammed through his brain.

Xander remembered.
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