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Cause and Effect	By : elizashaw Category: AtS/BtVS Crossovers > Slash - Male/Male > Spike(William)/Xander > Spike(William)/Xander Views: 6461 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: I do not own Buffy the Vampire Slayer or Angel the Series. I do not make any money from the writing of this story.

Chapter List
- 6
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Xander managed to drive to the end of the block before the shaking in his hands forced him to pull over. With the anger withdrawing, guilt kicked in. No wonder he still dreamed about his father beating on him, he was no different. If Spike hadn't wanted him gone before, he should now. Xander ground his palm into his closed eye, trying to wipe away the vision of punching the wounded vampire in anger. Striking someone he purported to care about. Fucking Harris genes. Looks like there really is no escape. With that thought, he slammed the car back into gear and decided to settle in at the first bar he came across.

The search didn't take long. One turn and he saw the flickering "Cocktails" light outside a dingy cement-block building. Underneath the neon promise of booze, "Pete's Place" was painted on a wooden sign. Apparently this was a place that valued the promise of alcohol over name-recognition. Xander maneuvered the car to an open spot on the curb, figuring that Spike had spoken from experience when he said that they could always get another one. Besides, he doubted he'd be driving home if the evening went as planned.

None of the flannel-sporting, ball-cap wearing roughs looked up from the bar as Xander stalked in. He knew this kind of place. Dark wood paneling, a jukebox with choices that didn't range much beyond the metal and country genres, one pool table with hitches in the surface, and no little umbrellas in the drinks. He slid onto a stool at the end of the bar and caught the bartender's eye.

"What'll it be?" The guy looked like he doubled as a bouncer at well over six feet tall and probably three feet wide. He had a tattoo of Jesus tending bar that ran from shoulder to elbow on his left arm.

"Something strong." Xander didn't care much what. All alcohol tasted like paint stripper as far as he was concerned. And beer just wasn't gonna cut it tonight.

"Got this new one I came up with. Call it 'three drunk rednecks hunting.'" The bartender laughed, and for a moment Xander felt his mood lift.

"Works for me."

The guy sitting a couple stools down grimaced. "You inflictin' that mess on somebody else now, Bill?"

"Shut up, Mike. This drink's gonna get me into Zagat's for best new drink." The bartender tossed back good-naturedly. He pulled out a highball glass and started yanking bottles off the shelf, explaining to Xander as he went.

"Three drunk rednecks," he poured in generous amounts of Jim Beam, Jack Daniels, and Johnnie Walker. "Hunting." He dumped in Wild Turkey and finished the drink with a quick squirt of coke before sliding it in front of Xander expectantly.

"Here's to Zagat's." Xander took a swing and smothered his grimace as the drink burned down his throat. He coughed.

Bill laughed and slapped his hand down on the bar. "Let me know when you're ready for another." Xander held up the glass in response and downed another gulp. An argument broke out among a group of guys watching the football game showing on the TV over the bar, and Bill headed over to douse the fires, leaving Xander to slide into glum contemplation of his glass. He stared at his fingers wrapped around the cool surface. The knuckles on his right hand were reddened and beginning to swell. He had hit Spike hard. Shoving the image away, he took another gulp of the drink, willing the booze to erase the night.

**************

An hour later, Xander still held the same drink, assuring Bill repeatedly that he was fine, didn't want something else. Halfway through downing it, Xander gave in to the self-disgust that replaced the need to escape. Instead of following his original plan to drink himself blind—a plan foiled in part by the drink in front of him—he opted for taking an honest look at his reactions that night. Ever since Lorne told him to stop letting the First Slayer win, he had been on edge. If he was letting her win, he had to be connected to Spike's dreams. But if he was going to be really honest with himself, guilt hadn't been the motivating factor behind the anger he loosed.

He played Spike's words over his head, the impotent rage at being brought back from the dead. Xander scowled. He accepted that people died. Hell, he had to. It wasn't like he was given an option when they lost Joyce or Jenny or Tara or Jesse or Larry. He stopped himself from reciting his litany any further. Even thinking Anya's name still hurt, not as much anymore, but hurt nonetheless. None of them got to come back. None of them were given that chance, and all Spike can do is bitch about it. He nearly growled and realized his fists were clenched once more. Fuck. How was he supposed to be Spike's roommate, let alone help him with this whole First Slayer thing if he couldn't even think about him without feeling the need to hit something?

Xander started as a body slid onto the stool next to him and clapped a hand on his shoulder.

"Looks like Bill's special ain't gettin' the job done," a dry voice observed. "Maybe I can help with that."

A large tanned hand slid two white tablets on the bar in front of him. Xander stared at the pills, then glanced over at the owner of the hand.

"No thanks," he managed not to growl at the leather-clad man, but he shook the hand off his shoulder.

"Just a little E, guy, and you look like you need it." The man offered an oily grin that matched the brown hair slicked back into a ponytail that couldn't hide the impending baldness. "We'll call it a taster for now." He wandered off, leaving the pills on the bar. Xander glared at the retreating back.

Just a little E….looks like Bill's special isn't getting the job done…

Xander could hardly disagree there. Two hours of staring at the same drink and stuffing down the anger and guilt weren't getting him anywhere. He knew he needed to get back to Spike, and he knew he couldn't face the vampire yet. Watching the pills, he swirled the drink around in his glass. Fuck. He was so tired. Tired of trying. Tired of hurting. Maybe just for a little while…

No more thinking. No more judging right and wrong, should and shouldn't. At least for tonight. He tossed back both pills and followed them with a long drink. Wiping his mouth, he rested his head on this arms on the bar and waiting for the "taster" to deliver. Across the room, Chet smirked. So fucking easy. Give it thirty minutes and getting payment from the one-eyed loser would be a snap.

**************

Spike refused to pace, but he couldn't keep from glancing at the duffle by the door every few minutes, reassuring himself that Xander would be back. Between glances, he called himself a git and a coward for needing the human to come back. He hated admitting being afraid to sleep alone. Hell, he hated admitting that he hated being alone. Those times in the hospital, taking the piss, talking about the Scooby family he never truly stopped missing, brought back that need to be wanted with a fierceness that overwhelmed him. Now that Xander was gone, he couldn't stuff that need back into the tiny lockbox in his heart as he had done since his return. Bloody pathetic. Vampire needing a bunch of humans. Aside from times with Fred, that need didn't get fed at Wolfram and Hart. Even his own sire had no time for him.

Giving in to the urge once more, Spike glanced at the clock. Three hours of mindless channel surfing—and if part of the mindless aspect was due to being unable to make his fingers obey, Spike wasn't going to admit it—and all he could think about was whether Xander would be back and when.

"Sod this." He snapped off the TV and shrugged on his duster. After a brief struggle peppered with colorful swearing, he managed the knob and slammed the door behind him, not bothering to lock it. Only thing worth taking was the telly, and if that happened, he would have another reason to pester money out of his tight-wad sire, which always made for a good time.

Once he got outside, indecision set in. He glanced back at the building, debating whether his leaving would invoke sod's law and have Xander walk in two minutes later. He growled and shook himself.

"Sod this," he repeated for good measure before stalking down the street. He might not be back up to fighting form, but he'd proved that his hands could manage a beer bottle quite nicely. That meant Pete's.

Spike pressed through the crowd smoking outside, ignoring the usual griping about shit-head California laws. Not that he disagreed—it was a bloody crime to be denied a fag with a drink—but the complaints bored him. He had more fun giving the law a metaphorical two-fingered salute by lighting up whenever he pleased.

Inside, Bill spotted him immediately and had a beer ready by the time Spike reached the bar.

"Ta, mate." Spike drank deeply. See? Much better. Not thinking about Xander at all. He glanced around the bar, noting the usual mix of patrons. Tipping back the bottle of beer once more, he leaned back against the bar and contemplated attempting a game of pool on the decrepit table. He glanced over toward the pool table and smirked at the couple in the corner. Looks like Lily found a willing meal for the night. The leggy blonde straddled her companion, writhing over his crotch, her long hair draped over the man's face as she sucked on his lips. Spike sauntered over, intent on a game of pool and a quick bask in the pheromones that the succubus would be putting out to control her victim. So call him a voyeur, at least it would keep his mind off the infuriating human who had walked out on him.

Spike reached for a pool cue before remembering that with his weakened hands, he would never be able to manage a decent shot. Buggering hell. He let out a growl that snagged Lily's attention. She shot him a smoldering look.

"Want the next ride, baby?" She didn't slow her grinding lap dance, and the man beneath her let out a moan of pleasure. She winked at the startled vampire and returned to her ministrations--ministrations that lasted for less than a second as Spike grabbed her by the hair and threw her across the room.

"Wuh?" Xander blinked into enraged yellow eyes, his pelvis still searching for the warm body that had been giving him so much pleasure.

Spike glared into the dilated brown eye, trying to gauge how much damage the succubus had already done. Xander stared at him blearily, but seemed more drugged than drained.

"Hey, pal, what's the idea throwing my girl around like that?" A heavy hand landed on Spike's shoulder only to be shrugged off with a menacing growl. The vampire turned to snarl at his confronter.

"This," he pointed at Xander, "is mine."

"Whoa, Spike, dude, didn't know. Guy didn't say nothing about you, and Lil was just showing him a good time." Chet backed off, hands raised. "No harm, no foul." He had seen the vampire in action before and had no desire to have those fists and fangs turned on him. He shot a glance at Lily, verifying that the succubus hadn't been hurt by the fall. She watched the men warily from her position on the floor, but said nothing.

"Hey," Xander registered what Spike had said. "'M not yers." He swayed to his feet, not an easy task with the floor moving in an entirely different direction than his brain anticipated. The raging hard-on didn't help matters any either.

"Shut it, Harris." Spike snapped at the man before turning back to watch Chet help Lily up. She glared at the vampire. Then she turned her sneer on Xander.

"Not like he would have been much of a meal anyway. Desperate has never been my favorite flavor." At Spike's growl she leaned closer to Chet, and the pair hurried to the other side of the bar. Spike contemplated following and beating the lesson in with fists, but one look at Xander changed his mind and dampened his possessive rage. Where he expected to see anger, he found only blurred hurt and confusion.

Attempting to gather his thoughts through the erotically-charged fog that still seemed to surround him, Xander could focus only on the need to get out of the bar as quickly as possible. He wasn't exactly sure when the night had gone from the standard Harris drowning of sorrows to the Hellmouth wigginess that permanently haunted him. Note to self: drugs lead to demons. He nodded decisively, then wished he hadn't as the room swayed. He felt a cool hand on his arm, steadying him. Need surged through him straight to his cock, and he shook the dangerous arm away.

"Going home," he announced. He weaved his way toward the door through the on-lookers, not meeting anyone's gaze. Spike made to follow him, eyes still glittering between blue and gold.

"Spike." Bill halted his progress by planting his hulking from directly in the vampire's path. Can't have you treatin' the workin' folks that way, man. You know how it is here."

"The boy is mine," Spike snarled.

"Yeah, I'm sure we all get that now, but he didn't have a sign on him, and he seemed plenty eager for Lil's offer." Bill spoke reasonably. Spike glared. "Next time, warn him about the place, would ya? Save us all a lot of grief."

Spike nodded shortly. As far as he was concerned there would be no next time. Pete's was forever off-limits to one Xander Harris. He stalked out of the bar.

Outside, Xander stood by the Viper. He had the key pressed into the door lock, but made no move to unlock the car. Instead he leaned over the top of the car, resting his head on his left arm. He was too far gone to drive. Hell, he might be too far gone to walk his sorry ass back to Spike's apartment. Plus, there was the whole Spike's apartment factor that pretty much assured the presence of the possessive bleached asshole. The boy is mine. What the fuck was that about? Not like Spike could actually want him, a broken wreck of an ex-carpenter who couldn't manage to stay out of harm's way for a single evening. Fuck, he was horny. That whatever the heck she was demon was right. He was desperate. Desperate and pathetic.

Cool fingers slid over the hand that held the key in the car door.

"Neither of us is gonna be driving this heap home tonight, pet."

Xander let out a harsh laugh as he relinquished the keys and pressed closer to the car, away from the solid body at his back.

"Pet. Pet," he mumbled as if trying the word out. "Wonder if I'm a Labrador or a parakeet. Maybe a goldfish, swimming round and round and round. Short life."

"Xan?" Spike broke into the babble, starting to worry about what drugs the man had been given.

"Let's just go." Xander pushed off the car, knocking into Spike and barely keeping his balance. He ignored the vampire's outstretched hand and started off down the street toward the apartment. Spike yanked out a cigarette and lit up. He pulled in the smoke in frustration and blew it out before walking after the weaving figure. Within a few steps he came abreast of Xander, but didn't get so much as a glance. He could feel the arousal that continued to pour off the human. Wanker, he's not thinking about you. Spike shook his head to clear it of dark eyes and the remembered feeling of strong, warm arms holding him together in that hospital bed.

They walked the rest of the way in silence. Xander raised the key to unlock the door, but Spike reached around and simply turned the knob. Between his hands and Xander's state of mind, it was a good thing he decided not to bother locking up, he thought.

Once inside, Xander went to the kitchen sink and turned on the cold water. He maneuvered himself to drink straight from the faucet. God, he was thirsty, and he wanted the taste of that, what had Spike called it—sycophant?—out of his mouth. The chlorinated tang of LA water did the trick on that front. He avoided looking at his vampire escort. His cock still hadn't quite gotten the memo that there was no sex to be had tonight, and staring at those blue eyes wasn't helping any. When he couldn't drink anymore, he shut off the water and rubbed his hands over his face.

"Need a shower," he mumbled.

"Xander"

"No, Spike." Xander finally looked at the vampire, taking in the concern in those expressive eyes. "Please, I can't. I can't talk about this. I got grabbed by some nasty. You saved me. Nothing new. End of story, ok?" He pleaded silently with the other man to drop the subject, let his shameful lapse into inebriation and meaningless sex, not to mention living up to his demon-magnet status, pass without comment.

"Fine, Harris. End of story." Damn, but rejection hurt no matter how many times it happened. Hadn't helped any that he went all possessive vamp in the bar. Spike wanted to reach out to the man who had helped him, to take away some of the pain and misery, not to mention lust, that radiated off of him. But clearly his help wasn't welcome.

Xander stumbled over to his duffle bag and pulled out clean boxers and t-shirt then closed himself into the safety of the bathroom. He turned the shower on, adjusting the temperature to the hottest level his skin could take. Avoiding looking at himself in the mirror, he clumsily peeled off his clothes and eye patch and stepped under the scalding spray.

Spike absently wandered to the couch, intent on blocking out the image of a naked Xander in his shower by watching whatever inane infomercial might be on order tonight. But he couldn't settle and got back up without turning on the television. The adrenaline that kicked in when he saw his friend under that damned succubus hadn't really subsided, and the pheromones pouring off the boy during the short walk back had only exacerbated the arousal, even though he knew the sexual vibe resulted from Lily's attentions and whatever drugs Chet had slipped him rather than from the vampire's proximity. Even so, the sound of spray on skin drew him to the bathroom door. He raised his hand to the wood, hesitant to touch as he listened.

The slap of flesh on flesh reached his ears, as did the harsh, hitched breath of the man on the other side of the door. Seems the whelp decided to take care of that little problem himself. Spike smirked and adjusted his rapidly filling cock. The smirk faltered, however, as he listened. Sodding wanker's gonna pull it right off, he keeps that up. He knew that urge for punishment rather than pleasure. Despite his arousal, sadness clenched at his heart. Decision suddenly made, he disregarded all that Xander had said, disregarded his own sense of self-preservation, and opened the door quietly to slip through.

Behind the glass doors of the shower, Xander stood with his head down and eye squeezed shut, the muscles in his shoulders tense as one hand on the wall braced him upright and the other yanked viciously at his cock. Harsh, pained breaths panted out, on the verge of ragged sobs, but not quite there. He wanted release, needed to get past this desperate aching in his body and blank out his mind, if only for a few seconds.

Spike took in the hunched figure. His own arousal heightened, and he knew nothing beyond the need to be in there, holding this man, helping him find his way back from whatever dark place of pain he currently inhabited. He quickly stripped and silently slid the glass door open, stepping into the luxurious steam.

"Fuck!" Xander jumped as the cool body pressed against his back and a strong hand covered his own on his cock, stilling his motions.

"Shhh. Let me." Spike pressed his cheek against Xander's ear, molding himself to that gloriously heated body. His own erection pressed between them, twitching at the heat and pressure. With his right hand, he gently stroked Xander's nipples, feeling the shiver of arousal surge through the man.

"Relax. Let me make you feel good, Xan. Let go." Spike murmured low, willing his voice to soothe the despair that undercut any pleasure Xander brought to himself.

Xander shuddered. Fucking sexy undead bastard. He knew he should order the vampire out of his shower, but his body disagreed. Fine. Get off and get out. He could do that. He started to pull at himself again, only to have his hand firmly removed and placed against the tiles. Before he could protest, Spike's hand returned to its place on his cock and set up a slow, gentle rhythm. The cool palm slid up and down his aching shaft, and clever fingers ghosted clumsily over the slit at the tip with each stroke.

Xander's whimpers and struggles to get more pressure on his cock made it difficult to focus. Spike yearned to take the man hard and fast here in this wonderful heat, but this was about more than a moment's satisfaction. He recognized Xander's need for pain, the desperate need to punish himself for actions, thoughts, everything, and he refused to encourage that need. That meant gentle touches, slowly stoking the fire that raged in both their bodies. He rocked against the broad back in time with his strokes, providing the friction he needed on his own cock.

Spike continued to keep a measured pace, letting the climb to orgasm go slowly but steadily. Xander quit fighting him and simply held onto the wall, chin pressed to chest and eye determinedly held shut. He could feel the man's cock twitch in his hands and after several long minutes, he felt Xander's balls draw up, readying to empty their contents in a gush of release. Xander kept up a low whimper as he felt himself draw closer and closer to orgasm. Nothing existed but that sure hand on his cock and the cool body pressed against him.

"Gonna," he panted out. Before he could finish the thought, his cock jumped and jetted his release over Spike's hand to drip down the shower tiles. Feeling Xander's viscous cum and scenting the essence of the man drove Spike over the edge in return, and Xander registered the cooler flow of Spike's cum down his back and thighs.

Panting, they stood under the water, letting it rinse away their release. Spike dropped a light kiss on the tense shoulder before him. He stifled a sigh. So much for the boneless afterglow. He ran his hands down the tanned arms braced against the shower wall, pulling Xander back and turning him around.

Too late, Xander realized that he had removed his patch, and he moved to turn away, but Spike grasped his chin and held him still.

"S'not that bad," he murmured, stroking his thumb over the cheek beneath the sunken eyelid.

"It's not good," Xander tossed back. He couldn't bring himself to look at the vampire.

"Xan."

"…"

"Xan, look at me."

The soft voice tugged at his innards, and he fought to disobey. Not gonna need, not gonna ask. Gotta stay separate. Part of his brain registered the utter ridiculousness of convincing himself that he wasn't laid bare before this vampire who not only stood in his shower but had jerked him off moments before. But that part of his brain had to do battle with a heart that refused to let anyone close, lest they be destroyed by the chasm of need and loneliness that threatened daily to suck him to the depths.

"Xander." Cool fingers stroked over his face. "Look at me, luv." Spike nearly shook with want. "Let me see you." He had risked this much, and he would not let Xander slide back into himself.

Xander took a gulping breath. He didn't want this. In his mind, it was him comforting Spike, him taking the vampire's pain and fear, not the other way around. He couldn't inflict that on his friend after all he had seen in the last few days. He shook his head slightly, refusing to look up.

Spike sighed and leaned to press his forehead against Xander's, stroking clenched neck muscles with strong fingers, willing the man to let go. He stomped ruthlessly on the thought that once again he wasn't enough, didn't have what was needed.Focus on Xander, you selfish git.

"Let it go. S'okay." He felt the man shudder under his massaging touch, and he smelled the salt of tears before he registered the start of shuddering sobs. Pulling the man closer, he ran comforting hands down the shaking back, letting the water wash over them with its soothing heat.

Pain rolled over Xander in waves, but he wasn't drowning. He clung to the vampire, feeling a very different safety than the one he had found in comforting the Spike after the nightmares. For once, he allowed himself to feel, knowing the wounded hands that held him up wouldn't let him fall.

Slowly, the tears tapered off, leaving him more drained than even the powerful orgasm could. Still, he clung to the shower-warmed vampire. Moving meant the return to the real world, and no matter how safe he felt for the moment, he knew it couldn't last.

Spike stroked his fingers over the dark hair, allowing Xander to keep his face buried in the crook of his neck, already dreading the moment of separation. But they couldn't stay in the shower all night, and he could sense the exhaustion that threatened to overtake both of them after the long last few days. With a sigh, he stepped back, lifting Xander's chin to gaze in the tear-reddened eye.

"Finish up in here and come to bed, luv." Taking in the burgeoning rejection in that weary face, he leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss on Xander's lips.

Xander closed his eye and accepted the kiss, immediately wanting more, but not able to ask for it. Spike was being kind, offering him comfort, nothing more. He could accept that. Hell, he had accepted it completely over the last half hour. It would be enough. He nodded as Spike moved away.

"Thanks." The mixture of gratitude and shame in the low word stopped the vampire's exit from the shower. Spike reached back to run a palm gently over Xander's cheek.

"You're welcome." Blue eyes conveyed sincerity and concern. Then Spike stepped out to dry himself before he gave in to the desire to grab the human and cling to him, to feed his own deep need for connection. He wrapped the towel around his waist and walked out of the bathroom.

Xander rinsed himself quickly and stepped out of the shower. He continued to avoid the mirror, unwilling to look at the violent drunk who took advantage of a friend's kindness. A shudder ran through him as he relived the feeling of Spike pressed up against him, holding him, stroking him, accepting him. He suppressed the image and pulled on his boxers and t-shirt, preparing to curl up on the couch and sleep off the remaining E and alcohol in his system.

As he moved back toward the main room, he registered the fact that Spike lay in the bed, barely covered by the thin sheet. His face appeared peaceful, and with the lack of breathing, he looked very much like the corpse he was. A beautiful corpse, but a corpse nonetheless. He forced himself to quit staring and moved to grab a pillow off the bed.

"Turn out the light before you crawl in, eh mate?" Spike mumbled without opening his eyes. Afraid to see that Xander would choose the couch over the space he had clearly left in the bed, he forced himself to stay casual and still.

Xander frowned. Crawl in? His brain caught up with the fact that instead of spreading out in the middle of the bed, Spike lay on the far side. Leaving space for him? He glanced over at the couch and then back to the bed. Fuck, he was tired, and the bed sounded so much better than the couch. Sleeping next to the vampire could hardly be more intimate than the shower scene they just played out, he reasoned. Finally, too tired to think any more, he flipped off the lamp and settled into the bed with a sigh, sliding into sleep almost immediately.

Spike grinned. Maybe tonight sleep would be safe. He luxuriated in the warmth radiating off his bedmate as he drifted off to the sound of the slow, steady heartbeat.

Some hours later Xander's choked off cry and sudden dash to the bathroom jarred him into wakefulness. The vampire sat bolt upright, game-face to the fore, searching for the threat. From behind the bathroom door, violent retching sounds reached him. Looks like sleeping still wasn't so safe after all.
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Cause and Effect