You call it a cult, I call it family..... (skargasm) wrote in bloodclaim,
You call it a cult, I call it family.....

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The Prophecy of the Defender & the Determined Protector - Chapter 2

Title: The Prophecy of the Defender & the Determined Protector
Pairing : Spike/Xander
Rating : NC17
Summary: The words of a prophecy force Spike and Xander closer than they ever thought they would ever become but will it be close enough?
Part: 2/?

A/N : Inspired by plot bunny/challenge posted here:

Lady Q: Write a story based on the meaning of Xander's name. Alexander means: Defender of Men and Warrior. So I would like to see a story based on the meaning of his name and Xander coming to understand it

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

“Ok, G-man, I hate to say this but I think you may have taken one too many hits to the head. There are hundreds of Alexanders – what makes you think I'm it?”

“He does have a point Giles. I mean, this is Xander we're talking about - “


“No offence, Xander” Buffy said, patting him on the arm. “But seriously, why would Xander suddenly turn up in some fusty old prophecy? And if he's this Defender then who the heck is the Protector? And is it me, or does that sounds like some sort of birth control?!” Xander couldn't resist a snicker, half-wishing he'd come up with that one!

“Yes, well perhaps I was a tad hasty. But you must admit, finding out that Xander's name means the same thing is quite the coincidence. Willow, where did your friend – Tara, did you say? - where did she find these definitions?”

“I think you can just look on the net Giles. Would you like me to boot up your computer? There are some amazing search engines that would be incredibly helpful....”

“Yes, yes, I know how much you adore using all this technology. Give me a decent book any day. However, in this instance, I think it would be most helpful if you could indeed turn to the computer and see if you can find more about these definitions. And – where's Buffy gone?”

She waved from the entrance to the training room, mobile phone in hand. “I'm just going to give Angel a ring. He's meant to be coming down later and I thought it might be an idea for him quiz Wesley on any handy-dandy books for you. Now aren't I the helpful little Slayer?”

“Yes, and the opportunity to talk to your Deadboy-friend has nothing to do with it?!” Xander snarked. Ever since Buffy and Angel had decided to give things another try, he had been making a real effort not to return to his previous 'Angel-hating' stance. He was old enough now to realise that a large part of it had been jealousy – of all the attention the vampire had received, his relationship with Buffy while Xander was deep in the Buffy-love, and the actions of Angelus had been too much for his loyal heart to easily forgive. Admittedly, there were still times when he hated the vamp, but mainly because he seemed determined to be miserable!! Even after the embedding of his soul – payment for deeds he had undertaken in L.A. For the Powers that Be – Deadboy had still been a miserable s.o.b.. Xander was well on the 'we hate Angelus' train, but now there was no chance of the evil bastard re-emerging and wreaking havoc on Buffy's family and friends, he was prepared to let bygones be bygones. Well after a particularly harsh talking to from Buffy about the freedom to choose and all that! They had actually sat and had a proper conversation not long after the two lovers were reunited, and although they weren't friends, they could at least be in the same room as each other without hackles instantly rising.

“Ha, ha, you're just – ANGEL! Yeah, I know – was hoping you could... What vision? Really? Ok, right – see you later then. Ok, yeah I'll let Giles know. Bye”.

“Whassup? Did someone mess about with his hair-gel? If so, please remember I have an airtight alibi and -”

“Cordelia had a vision. And Xander, you were in it. Angel is bringing Wesley with him because apparently this one looks like a big deal. He wouldn't tell me more – said he would be down as soon as it's dark”.

All four were struck dumb. If Xander was starring in a vision from the Powers that Be, maybe Giles wasn't as far off the mark as they thought.

* ~ * ~ * ~ * ~ *

For a moment, he was convinced he was back with the Initiative. The cold, hard fear froze him in place before he realised the walls were wrong – the Initiative was whiter than white, soulless and evil hidden behind a clean façade, whereas this room seemed to be neither good nor bad – simply there, like a waiting room. Bouncing to his feet, he looked around. Even with his excellent sight, there wasn't anything to be seen – white upon white upon white. He moved towards one of the walls, and as he reached out to touch it the texture changed becoming mirror like. For the first time in over 100 years he saw his reflection. He took a step back, bemused, then instantly shrugged into his Big Bad persona and faced his image down.

Looking to one side, he could see himself how he used to look – floppy curls, poncy glasses, breeches and shirt. He sneered – it had literally taken blood and tears to lose that part of himself, and facing it now wasn't bringing back any fond memories. Angelus had beaten William out of him years ago, or rather beaten away any external signs of William. Turning to his other side, he could see a cage containing a demon – a snarling, writhing beast with golden eyes, ridged forehead and razor sharp fangs. He could quite clearly see the seeping wound in the demon's head where the chip had been implanted, and sometimes the snarls sounded more like whimpers before rising in volume as the demon beat against the bars of the cage once more. Trapped within it's own head – sometimes he wished the Initiative had simply dusted him.

Turning back to the image in the middle, he realised the mirror was changing texture again, becoming more window like. He faltered as he saw something on the other side, and the blurred shape formed into – Xander ruddy Harris? Why would he be seeing the Whelp? And what the bloody fuck were the two other shapes there with him? One made his demon growl threateningly – dressed as a soldier, from crew cut to boots, standing at attention – the soldier image was distressing to say the least. But more bizarre was the furred creature in a cage. If he could understand that the caged persona on his side was the demon, what the fuck was that doing at Xander's side? It looked like nothing so much as - as a hyena? This was getting more and more surreal, and determined not to put up with any more shit, Spike moved to turn away. But Xander was reaching for him – his hand outstretched, palm forwards and Spike found himself stepping close and pressing his palm to Xander's palm. The skin was hot but not sweaty – just part of the overall furnace that was Xander Harris – and looking up Spike realised that he must have stepped closer or something because now he was looking the whelp dead in the eye with nothing between them.

Those eyes – those kick me, hurt me, love me, all-seeing hazel eyes – were staring directly into his own, piercing through any pretence to the man within the vampire. And for the first time in years, Spike felt that somebody saw him. Not just the image, the bravado. Not just the demon – the capacity for blood, death and violence. Not just the sexy exterior, with his pretty blue eyes and his marble white skin to be kicked and bruised as desired. Those eyes saw him - the poet hiding inside of the killer, the too-big heart that had been trampled and crushed by rejection too many times. Closing his eyes, blocking out the sight, Spike desperately tried not to cry. He wouldn't let the Whelp see him cry, not now, not ever.

Eyes squeezed shut, he was taken by surprise when warm, mobile lips touched his and Xander pulled him into his arms. He was enfolded in an incredibly warm embrace, wrapped up tight and held close – so close that he could feel Xander's heartbeat thudding into his own chest, almost as though it was his own heart. He gasped, and found he was being devoured – darting tongue slipping in to steal a taste; his head was being tilted, all the better to enable the boy – Man – to delve deeper; crushed closer as Xander's kiss went on and on and on. Responding in spite of himself, Spike's hands swept up to grasp Xander's head, taking over the kiss so that now it was his tongue delving into that wet warmth, tracing teeth and gums, learning Xander from the inside out. He had never felt like this, not even with his Dark Princess, and stunned he pulled back, eyes wide with shock.

And as he watched, the furry beast-man and the soldier moved closer to Xander until they seemed to merge from either side, almost as though they were sliding INTO Xander. “What the fuck?!”

His exclamation echoed around the crypt, bringing Spike fully awake so that he found himself sitting up in bed, tangled in his sheets, and gasping for breath. What the fuck had the Red Witch done this time?

Part 3 is here
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