Part One: Prodigal.
In which the prodigal son returns, Spike thinks too much, and Xander has a friend.
Spike liked it in the cemetery at night. Not for your obvious reasons, either- like him being a vampire, and it being filled with dead people and frequently stupid coeds that even though he no longer got to eat, he could still laugh at them for being there in the first place.
He even liked the cemetery for more than just the fact that it was the easiest spot to find something to kill. There was something quiet about cemeteries, something peaceful in a morbid sort of way. It suited the odd mood that had been plaguing him for weeks, now- a sort of restlessness that he didn't know how to quell.
Tonight he was after some sort of horned demon that liked to sacrifice virgins, or some such. He didn't know what it was, as he hadn't been paying attention when Giles had told him about it, but they knew him well enough by now to know that if he needed any special information to kill the damn thing, they damn well better make sure he was paying attention. Rupert didn't like him, but neither did he ever try to get him killed, and they'd developed an odd sort of comradeship over the past year or so. Ever since Buffy had crawled back out of her grave.
He shouldered the thought aside, and concentrated on tracking the demon he was after. The scents that reached his nose when he inhaled were definitely not human, but neither were they demonic, precisely. The confusion over what they were, and what the odd spiced smell that flavored them was, sent him off across the oddly smooth lawn, following his nose.
He found the source near a crypt, but it took him a while to realize what it was. Two men, one pressing the other against the wall of the crypt, and the both of them kissing like they were trying to climb into each other's throats, rubbing against each other like cats in heat. From what he could see they were both human, but not only could he smell otherwise, his- Spider Sense- god he was spending too much time with teenagers- was tingling. These two were not human, and with this town sitting right on top of a Hellmouth, that usually meant trouble.
He closed the distance between him and them and tapped the larger one on the shoulder. "Sorry, mate, but I want to-"
His voice died in his throat when the one he'd touched whirled around to glare at him, leaving the smaller one leaning against the crypt wall. This man was beautiful, in a feral sort of way, but there was something that he almost recognized about him…
"Fuck off, Spike. Can't you see I'm busy?"
He knew that voice. He knew that tone of disgust and rage and anger. And now, he knew the face, though it was very, very different than the one he remembered.
"Harris? Xander Harris?"
"Yeah, whatever," said the man who'd been missing for three years straight with nary a word to anyone. "You got my attention, what do you want?"
"What the hell are you doing here? And where the hell have you been?"
Both seemed like valid questions to Spike, but Xander sneered at him, an expression that Spike remembered quite well, even after three years. The scar bisecting the upper lip was new, though.
"What the fuck business is it of yours, Spike?"
"When a bloke who's been missing for three years shows up on the Hellmouth smelling not-so-very-human, I make it my business!"
"While you're asking questions, aren't you gonna ask what I am?" Xander said, switching tacks abruptly and smiling now, with lazy, sardonic amusement. This was… not at all the man that Spike remembered. No puppy eyes, no kick-me looks. This Xander was… a predator.
"Fine, then. What the hell are you?"
"None of your business," Xander said, and even Spike could see how much he enjoyed being able to say that. "Well, you'll figure it out eventually. But why should I ruin the fun of watching you chase your tail in circles till you catch on?"
Through all of this, the bloke that Xander had been snogging was leaning against the wall, watching with interest. At Xander's words, though, he straightened away from the wall and came padding over- the only word Spike could think to describe his movement- to stand by Xander's side.
"You shouldn't bait him, Xan," the boy said, because Spike could see that he really was a boy- not much older than seventeen. Cute little punk kid, too, with his hair spiked out everywhere in a rainbow of colors and wearing faded, ripped clothes. He wondered where Xander had picked this one up, and when the man had started playing for the other team.
"Why shouldn't I?" Xander said. "I gotta get my amusements where I can."
"You know we're going to need him eventually," the boy pointed out. "You don't want to alienate him."
"Oh, I do," Xander said, and while they stood there talking about him like he wasn't even there, Spike took the time to actually look at Xander, catalogue the changes three years had made.
Where once he'd dressed in castoff clothing with colors bright enough to sear the eyes, he now wore unrelieved black. Heavy black boots to give him an extra inch or two in height, worn black leather trousers, and a high-necked black t-shirt tight enough that Spike could see very clearly the twin rings piercing his nipples. His face was the same but leaner, harder, and his skin was much paler than Spike remembered, as if he spent most of his time in the dark rather than the light. A silver stud with matte black balls decorated the corner of his left eyebrow, and when Xander talked, an identical piercing flashed between his teeth. The clothes were tight enough that Spike was able to easily count the weapons he was carrying- two knives strapped to his thighs, probably accessed by a slit in the trouser pockets, a stake in his back pocket, and another, much larger knife hung on a sheath from his black leather belt next to a gun large enough that it looked like it could get the job done, no matter what the job happened to be.
Spike had seen people like him before. Worn down to the essentials, surviving more than living, and more dangerous than a rabid wolf when crossed. People with little to lose rarely cared overmuch for personal safety. What Spike didn't understand, couldn't understand, was how, and why, Xander had joined their ranks.
"We will need him," the boy was still insisting softly, and when Spike turned his attention back to the conversation he saw Xander sigh and fold.
"You're right," he admitted. "We will need him."
"Need me for what?" Spike demanded, since he'd never been one to tolerate someone talking about him like he wasn't always there. Xander turned to face him, his face all silver and shadows in the light of the half-moon, and for a moment Spike thought that he looked even less human than he smelled.
"Apocalypse," Xander said succinctly. "The usual. You don't think I'm in Sunnydale for a social call, do you?"
"Xander," the boy said, a very quiet scold in his voice, and for some reason Spike was reminded irresistibly of Tara. The boy had the same quiet strength that the witch did, and it seemed to work just as well on this new and different Xander as Tara's did on a troublesome Dawn or an arguing Spike and Buffy.
Xander sighed, and turned very slightly towards Spike without actually looking at him. "Fine. I'll be polite. Spike, this is Kelsey Ba'thalion. Kels, this is Spike. Kel's a shifter. Wolf, to be specific. Spike's a vampire, as you damn well know. Now that I've gotten the introductions out of the way, can we get the hell out of here? Spike pretty much shot the mood all to hell anyway, so we might as well head home."
"You can't just fucking run off like that!" Spike growled. "Why are you here, after all this time? What apocalypse? And why the hell don't you smell demon?"
"So many questions," Xander mocked. "Such complicated answers. Suffice to say, I'm here because I was called, no other reason. The apocalypse can wait, as you have time. And I don't smell human because I'm not. Which is a long story, and not something I care to explain for now."
"For now?"
"For now," Xander repeated. "Take a message to Buffy. Tell her that I'll be at the Magic Box at sunset tomorrow. I'll explain everything then."
"She's not going to be happy," Spike warned. "With the way you ran off three years ago, and everything. In fact, she's gonna be pissed something royal. The rest of them, too."
"Doesn't matter," Xander said, dismissing the emotions of his oldest and best friends as if they were nothing. "Just tell them."
Spike shook his head. "What the hell happened to you, Harris?"
"More than you could possibly understand. Even you. But I'll explain it. Tomorrow."
Xander turned to go, Kel right on his heels, and Spike called out to him. "What should I do if I need to get in contact with you?"
"We're gonna be at the old mansion on Crawford Street," Xander said. "I'm sure you still remember the way."
Spike wanted to call out, to keep him there, but Xander had started moving again, running now, and in a few seconds even the echo of his footsteps was gone. Whatever Xander had become, he had power to spare, as did his little shifter- Spike wasn't sure that even he could move that fast.
Spike started walking slowly back in the direction he'd come. His fairly routine evening had turned up a surprise that he had no doubt was gonna turn his life upside down, and he had no clue what the hell to do about it.
Tell Buffy, he supposed. Go to the meeting tomorrow. Find out what Xander had to say.
The boy had changed. And it wasn't just a surface change, or even a change of species. Something had happened to Xander, something that he hadn't been able to control, and it had twisted something so fundamental inside the boy that he had become something much closer to a wild animal. Kel might be half wolf, but Spike had no doubt that when the moon was full, Xander would be the one with instincts he couldn't control.
And Spike found that he was oddly driven to know what they were. More than just simple curiosity. More even that concern for the home and family he'd managed to build throughout the last couple of years.
He wanted to know what had happened to Xander because he wanted Xander. It was as simple, and surprising, as that. There was something more than a little untamed about the man that Spike had just met in the cemetery, and Spike found himself wanting to know what all that pale skin felt like under his hands, and how the spice of arousal that Spike had scented would taste like if Spike drank his blood.
It was an uncomfortable feeling, as he had long ago gotten used to wanting one person, and one person alone. But Buffy would never look at him that way, and he had resigned himself to the friendship he'd built with her, that in the long run, he almost treasured more.
Xander was nothing like the golden Slayer, but he was a great deal like Drusilla. Perhaps Spike's demon side was showing more than he'd expected, and it was starting to seem like he'd gotten over Buffy a bit more than he'd thought.
But Spike was born to adore, born to worship, and at the end of one love Xander had appeared, feral and angry and a predator to the bone. Spike knew that when he fell, he fell hard, instantly and without reason. It was starting to look like Xander had replaced Buffy in his affections the way Buffy had replaced Dru. And if it was true, then it seemed like Spike was heading back towards his roots with a man that was more dangerous than his Dark Princess ever was.
The question was: what was he going to do about it?
It was easier not to care when you had no one to care about. Xander had learned that the hard way.
It was no longer the lesson he lived by, however. That first hellish year... he didn't like to think about it. But he had people now. He had people who cared about him, people that he could care about in return, even if he couldn't feel as much for them as he wished.
Kel, of course, his partner, his lover, his keeper. The tamer of the beast. Xander knew that he could not have survived the past two years without Kel by his side, and he was grateful for it. He tried to show Kel just how grateful, but even when he could never find the right words, the right actions, Kel understood.
Angel, his ally, and the only person who could understand what it meant to have a calling. Wesley, who truly understood the mission better than even Angel, who lived for the mission and had taught Xander how to do the same.
The coven that had guided him, because without them he would have long ago been lost.
Blake, his contact in the Watcher's council, who had a smile and a ready wit and a way of getting himself and others out of many a tight spot.
No, Xander couldn't have made it this far without letting people into his life, and, to the extent he could, into his heart.
But he had never fallen in love.
He doubted he could. Not anymore. Not after what had happened to him. Not after what he had become. He could care about people, and sometimes with Kel he thought he might love him, but he had never fallen in love. He had never given his heart, or even had it truly touched.
But tonight, when he had turned to see Spike, looking exactly the same as when he had left, he had felt something inside of him move.
"Hey you," he heard Kel say softly beside him where he was sitting on the floor, and then there were two cool hands on his shoulders. "You look worked up. Something wrong?"
"You mean besides coming back to the place I never wanted to see again and running into the person I used to hate more than words can describe? You mean besides the fact that being on the Hellmouth makes it worse? No, nothing."
"It?" Kel began to knead at his shoulders, a futile attempt at clearing away the tension that knotted the muscles permanently, now.
"Yeah, that it. Not the hating Spike part. Hell, why bother hating Spike these days? He's a better person than I am."
"You know he's not." Soft conviction in Kel's voice, and closed his eyes.
"Okay, so he's not a better person than I am. But the demon inside of him is nothing to what I have inside of me."
"And you're controlling it," Kel said. "You always have. I know you, Xan. You've got a will of steel. You can do this." Kel sat down on the couch behind him, his hands still working their magic.
"Can I? The moment I crossed the Sunnydale limits, it perked up and said, 'Well, hell-lo.' It hurts. What if I can't control it?"
"Then we leave." Steel tone. Kel could be stubborn.
"We can't. We have to be here." Pause. "You still carry it, don't you?"
"You know I do, Xan."
"Just... you might need to use it."
"I won't."
"But you might. I'm telling you, it's worse than it's ever been. One of these days I might lose control. You have to be ready."
"I love you, Xan." Nothing but sweet, giving friendship there, and for what had to be the millionth time, Xander blessed the day that Kel had come into his life.
"I know you do. But you have to be ready."
"I don't know if I can."
"You promised me, Kel. If you can't do it, then I find someone who will."
"What if we all love you too much?"
"Then I end it myself before I go a step further. I'm not going to hurt anyone, Kel. I can't. I won't."
"Alright," Kel said soothingly. He ran his fingers through Xander's hair, and Xander sighed and leaned back against him.
"Will you sleep with me tonight? Human-you, I mean. I know you prefer to sleep shifted, but-"
"Of course I will," Kel said. "You didn't even have to ask. I was going to do it anyway."
Xander rubbed his cheek against one jeans-clad thigh. "I love you too, you know."
"Yeah, I know."
They sat in silence for a long time, and despite the reassuring touch of the one man he cared for beyond all others, Xander couldn't stop thinking about Spike.