Tainted Returns

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Part Eight
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Spike woke swiftly, jumping directly to full awareness with no stop for the gentle hazy rise through the layers of sleep. The first thought that popped into his mind was, **I had sex with Xander Harris!** In the cold, hard reality of the next day, it was difficult to believe.

Not bothering to open his eyes, Spike took stock of his situation. He was hungry; there was nothing unusual in that. The room itself was permeated with the overpower scent of sex -- and he was alone.

**Well, *that's* familiar, too, innit!** he thought sourly, slowly opening his eyes and raising himself up on his elbows. That was one thing that Harmony got points for. In those precious few waking moments -- before she woke too -- he had enjoyed lying still, quietly cuddling against her. Of course, at the time, he hadn't properly appreciated it. He hadn't know just how sorely lacking it would be in the future.

**A lesson in that, somewhere,** Spike thought, then shook his head. Right now, he had plans to foil. If Xander thought that Spike was an easy mark, well, he just had another thing coming. Restrained or not, Spike had a trick or two up his sleeve. The boy wouldn't be taking him by surprise this time.

Frowning, Spike threw his covers off, glaring at the ankle restraint hidden beneath his jeans. Not having much choice in the matter, he quickly redressed and hopped out of the bed -- firmly repressing the events that had led to his jeans being wound around his bound ankle in the first place.

He wasn't in the mood to examine what had happened. It was sex, so what.

**I had sex with Xander Harris!** He groaned. **Give me a break, and shut the hell up!** he told himself, but couldn't quite shake the shock of the last night's events. It wasn't that he was all that concerned about what had happened; sex was sex -- but it had been with *Xander*! He shivered briefly as he unwillingly remembered being the focus of Xander's undivided exploration attentions, his thoughts immediately shying away from how it had made him feel.

In objective retrospect, Spike could see where Xander's touches had gone from tentative and a little clumsy, to confident and deft as the boy became more and more sure of himself -- and Spike admitted ruefully, his reactions. And did Harris catch on fast, learning quickly what he liked and what he didn't! A shiver of arousal slithered across the base of his spine, stiffening him.

"Okay! We're *not* going there again, so you can just forget it!" Xander already had enough reason to stake him after this was over; he *didn't* need to give him more. "Not even supposed to be *thinking* about it," he berated himself, swiftly crouching down to inspect the manacle around his ankle.

If nothing else, it gave something *else* to concentrate on. Thing was, he'd had them specially made, and he seriously doubted even *he* could get out of them. Of course, when he'd got them, he hadn't exactly planned on being the one *in* them.

He sighed. **Hindsight 20/20, and all that.**

Several moments later, he jumped up in exasperation. It was useless tugging at the damn thing. It was solid, demon construction, and wasn't coming loose for nothing. For the moment, he was forced to admit that he was well and truly caught. Absently worrying his thumbnail as he thought; Spike paced back and forth restlessly, the length of the chain dictating his path. His attention, however; kept straying back to the bed.

"One track mind, ya git!" he muttered angrily. "Get your mind where it needs to be!"

//And where's that? On how wonderful last night felt?//

Spike ruthless ignored that thought, frowning. What he needed to do, he corrected, was just make sure he didn't give in again. After this was over, Harris would give him credit for that . . . wouldn't he? Spike sighed again. **Who cares?** If the whelp reacted badly--

//IF?!//

*If* the whelp reacted *really* badly, Spike could always make himself scarce until he calmed down. Yeah, that was the ticket. Spike nodded firmly, the decision made, and since he was pretty sure Xander had thrown all the surprises he was going to, it would be easy to resist further temptations.

**

Xander licked his lips, his anticipation building as he once again tested the weight of the dart gun in his hands. He'd snitched it from the Magic Box, making sure to get there well before Anya usually arrived. He really hadn't wanted to run into her right now. He suspected she -- out of all of them -- would know instantly something was different about him. Not wanting to dwell on what would have happened if she *had* been there, Xander returned his attention to his surroundings and the gun. They hadn't needed it for Oz in ages, but no one had bothered to get rid of it -- for which he was now very grateful.

Xander sighed as he scented the wind again. He could smell his prey, but he couldn't seem to get any closer. He'd been at this for three hours already, and he hadn't made *any* headway. It was beginning to get irritating!

He wanted to surprise Spike -- though he was pretty sure he'd done *that* already. He chuckled. He would *never* forget the look on Spike's face when he'd straddled the vampire, blood dripping down his chin. He'd never before seen such raw, aching need in his entire life. And while he knew damn well most of the attraction had been the blood, it had *felt* like he'd been the center of Spike's world, the most coveted, precious thing in existence.

It had felt *good*, and he wanted to feel it again.

He was *going* to feel it again, he vowed. First, however, Spike deserved a treat, and stale pig's blood just wouldn't cut it. Xander grinned widely. He knew Spike had to be virtually starving. The vampire hadn't had anything to eat last night beyond the mouthful Xander had give him, and there hadn't been anything there at the crypt to give him this evening.

Xander winced. The waste of most of the deer bothered Xander on several levels, but he pushed it aside. It had been done for a greater cause.

**Yeah,** he thought, his grin growing, **getting into Spike's -- as he would say -- knickers.**

Moving deeper into the woods, Xander frowned, not really sure why he'd chosen Spike -- though he *did* know why he had bypassed Buffy this time. Normal Xander saw her through rose tinted glasses. It wasn't that he didn't see her shortcomings; he just overlooked them. He was her friend; that's what friends did. And while Buffy was strong, an equal, Free Xander wanted someone more giving, someone not afraid to let themselves go, someone who'd give everything for someone they cared about -- like he did.

He snorted, even as he kept his senses trained. Normal Xander wouldn't have looked twice at Spike given that definition -- even if he *had* managed to look past his gender, and of course, the whole vampire thing -- but Free Xander knew better. He'd figured several things out during this early evening hunt.

Unlike Normal Xander, he saw the blond vampire without the haze of hate and bigotry. He could look back on this past year and see what Normal Xander had missed in his misplaced outrage. He could see how Spike had given of himself over and over again -- only to be rejected almost each and every time.

It hadn't all been selfless, Xander knew that too. Spike was Spike, after all. What Xander hadn't been able figure out at first, was why Spike had helped them so much *before* he'd fallen for Buffy. Sure, he couldn't function as he had before the chip. His world had been turned upside down, and as would *anyone* who suddenly found themselves in Spike's position, he'd been lost and afraid.

Xander began moving more quickly, the scent of his prey getting stronger and stronger now, the chase not interrupting his musings -- or vice versa.

Turning to the good guys had been an act of desperation for Spike, Xander knew, one that had most likely been a last resort. He had immediately understood that. It was the coming back later, before the Buffy lovin started, that he'd had trouble with. He'd figured Angel had survived just fine without biting anyone, why couldn't -- or more to the point, hadn't -- Spike?

It was the answer to that nagging question that had been the final piece to the puzzle, and was why -- even without previous understanding -- he'd chosen Spike. The vampire had kept coming back to them, because they were familiar and he knew what to expect from them. He had an innate need to belong, to not be alone that was easy to see for any idiot who chose to actually look, and *that* Xander could understand all too well.

A low growl to his left jerked Xander out of his thoughts and fully back onto the hunt. His prey was near, and trying to turn the tables. He turned slowly, waiting. Instincts urged him to throw aside the *man-made* gun and take his prey with his hands and teeth.

Common sense told him it wasn't a good idea. He was strong, he was quick, but experienced he wasn't. For now, he'd keep every advantage he could get his hands on. Besides, if it came down to a one on one, animal-to-animal fight, he'd fight to kill, and he wanted the wolf alive.

Xander set himself, gun at the ready, waiting for the animal's charge. He didn't have to wait long, and as the grey streak burst from the trees Xander pulled the trigger. The gun bucked lightly in his hands, and the nearly simultaneous, startled yelp from the magnificent animal told him he'd hit true.

Wary, but grinning, he kept the gun raised as he inched forward. According to Willow, it had worked almost instantly on Oz, but he wasn't taking any chances. When he reached the wolf, and a nudge with his booted foot gained no response, Xander slung the gun over his shoulder and bent to pick up the sleeping animal.

Moments later he was on his way back to the crypt.

TBC
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