Chapter Three: Thou Invisible Spirit. The chapter title comes from Shakespeare:
"O thou invisible
spirit of wine, if thou hast no name to be known by,
let us call thee devil!" --Othello (Act II, Scene 3)
As does the title of the first chapter, since I forgot to credit it earlier.
"To sleep, perchance to dream-
ay, there's the rub." --Hamlet (Act III, Scene 1)
Angel followed and unusually quiet Spike down the hall, taking in the unobtrusive affluence of the building. Xander had come up in the world, apparently.
The door opened just as Spike raised his fist to knock, revealing a grinning Xander Harris wearing a pair of black sweatpants and a healing burn on his chest. Um. Well. The boy had certainly filled out, that was for sure.
"Excuse me," Xander said to Angel, and hauled Spike across the threshold and into a deep kiss.
Angel tucked his hands into his pockets and rocked back and forth on his heels as he tried not to look at the entwined couple in the doorway. He kept sneaking glances at them, though, no matter how much he pretended that he wasn't.
The two of them finally pulled apart, a flush warming Xander's cheeks and a happy smirk on Spike's face. Keeping one arm around Spike's waist Xander said, "Welcome home, honey," in the smarmiest possible tone to Spike, then gestured airily at the room behind him. "Come on in, Deadboy," he said to Angel, and detached himself from Spike before wandering into the kitchen. Spike, rather obviously not appreciating being detached, wandered after him.
Angel stepped in and shut the door behind him, leaning back against it as he watched the laughing couple in the kitchen. Spike had set down the groceries on the counter- and damn if that hadn't been a mind-blowing experience, going grocery-shopping with Spike- and Xander was putting them away while Spike shucked out of his duster before taking a packet of blood out of the fridge and put it in the microwave. The vampire lounged against the counter while his blood warmed, making no attempt to help Xander and every attempt to distract him, stretching and rubbing his taught stomach and chest. When the failed, he hooked Xander's foot with his own and pulled him in for a kiss while the boy was trying to carry a bow of soda back into the pantry. Xander tickled him in the ribs to get released, and the incredulous expression on the Spike's face was almost enough to make Angel laugh.
They looked... happy. At ease with each other. As comfortable and settled as an old married couple, and it showed in the easy domesticity of the chore.
"How was work today?" Spike asked from his comfortable lounge against the counter, mimicking Xander's smarmy welcome-home tone of voice. Angel was again forcibly reminded of an old married couple- or Cordelia and Wesley on one of their better days.
"Pretty good, actually," Xander told him. "Couple guys gave me some trouble, but nothing big."
"Nothing to eat 'em for, then?" Spike asked, and Angel reflected wryly that clearly, he had an odd view of domesticity.
"Nothing to eat them for," Xander confirmed, and came over to stand near Spike as the vampire sighed in disappointment. Spike shifted till he was standing behind Xander and wrapped his arms around the boy's waist. Resting his chin on Xander's shoulder, he nodded at Angel.
"You gonna stand there forever, or are you gonna come in and get comfy?"
Angel gingerly stepped away from the door and crossed the living room to lean on the kitchen counter, instead. Spike snorted at him, but Xander just smacked his hand and cocked an inquiring eyebrow at Angel.
"So, what'd you find out about the cattle brand?"
"It draws Fate's attention to you, causes you to Become all you've been before."
"Even I can hear the capital letter 'B'," Xander said. "So, in other words, I'm a soldier, a hyena, and apparently? A vampire."
"How do you know?" slipped out of Angel's mouth before he could stop it, though he really didn't want to know how Xander knew.
In a sort of answer, Xander tilted his head back and latched his teeth lightly into the pale skin of Spike's throat. Angel saw the muscles move in Xander's jaw as he suddenly bit down hard, hard enough to draw blood. Spike purred and Xander drew back enough to lick the red stain from his lips and smile at Angel.
"Answer your question?"
Angel was hard. He was disgusted with himself because of it, but it had been... a long time. And these two together were potent. Spike, lean and hard, covered with leather and silk and with years of blood and sex vibrating between them. Xander, the Slayer's best friend who he still hadn't been able to stop looking at, even then, who stood barefooted and bare-chested in from of him now with muscles earned on the construction site and the wicked twinkle in his eyes that hadn't been there a couple of years ago. Spike with his cold-heat magnetism and leather and cigarettes and drawling sarcastic purr, and Xander with all his flaring warmth and boy-next-door good looks and the grin in his eyes that said he was banging the brains out of the girl next door.
Or maybe the boy.
Spike had always been like this, but this faintly predatory sexuality of Xander's was new. The two of them together were a picture of blatant decadence, and nothing in their attitude suggested that they were ashamed of it.
And he was hard. For Spike. And Xander. Together. And it was just wrong.
"Yeah," he said. "That answers my question."
Standing outside the door to the Magic Box, trying to nerve himself to just open the damn door. Shouldn't be that hard, should it? He even had Spike standing next to him, holding his hand like some toddler at the doctor's, and Angel's looming shadow comfortingly close to his back. He should be able to do this. He should.
"Um, should warn you, Angel, that it's not going to be pretty in there," he said slowly, trying to hold himself together even though all he wanted to do was fly apart. "Since.... since Glory, it's been a mess, and everyone's falling apart and we haven't really talked much. Like, at all. It's gonna be like walking into a battlefield. One with bullets and bombs. And land mines underneath your feet."
"I got it, Xander," Angel said, but there was no irritation in his voice. "It's okay. I've been through worse in the last couple of months, trust me."
"I doubt it," Spike said, "But it doesn't really matter either way, because we have to go in. Xander luv, want to do the honors?"
"Not really," Xander muttered, but because Spike's hand was laced tightly through his, he gritted his teeth hard enough to make his skull ache and opened the door.
He walked in with a badly cracked but cheerful smile pasted on his face. Willow was sitting on the couch with Tara at her feet; Dawn was sitting at the table with a mug of hot chocolate in front of her, and Giles was behind the counter, scribbling something quickly on a scrap of paper. Anya wasn't there, because Anya had taken off after Buffy's death, which had led to his relationship with Spike. Xander tended to think that he was better off.
He sort of waved to them, unobtrusively freeing his hand from Spike's, and Spike let him. No need to remind everyone that he was sleeping with the vampire; there had been enough fighting the first time that information had made the rounds. The last time he was in this room, in fact, and it had resulted in his and Spike's hurried retreat from the building and weeks of utter silence between them and the rest of the Slayerettes, which had only recently been broken. Just an hour before, in fact, to call and tell them that they had something they needed to talk about.
So to say that Xander was tense would be a rather astonishing understatement, and he wanted very, very badly to be anywhere but standing in the middle of the room with everyone's eyes on him. Back in his apartment, in bed with Spike, was his personal preference.
"Hey," Willow chirped, falsely cheerful, but at least she was trying. Tara smiled a little, but Dawn was staring at him in an odd way, and Giles's gaze was hard and almost vicious, especially when he looked past Xander to Angel, still standing in the doorway.
"What's he doing here?" Willow demanded before Giles had a chance to, and Xander winced a little but spoke up quickly in Angel's defense.
"I invited him," he said, just as Spike said, "I brought 'im." The two of them exchanged an amused glance, then looked at the ceiling as Giles glared harder at them for the little moment of intimacy.
"Yes," Willow said patiently, "but that doesn't explain what he's doing here. Oh, and why."
"I'd like to know that as well," Giles said, his gaze fixed diamond-hard on Angel. "Seeing as he didn't see fit to show up for the funeral."
Xander could smell the pain and worry and guilt that were suddenly pouring off Angel's skin, and he glared back at the Watcher. "Giles, play nice."
"It's not as if I was surprised," Giles continued, unheeding. "Walked away and broke her heart, not there when you were needed and could have bloody saved her and couldn't even be bothered to show up at her funeral. She-"
Giles never got a chance to finish, because Xander was suddenly across the room, much to fast for a human to have moved, and was glaring straight into framed brown eyes. Making an abrupt decision, Xander said, "Spike, take him outside, will you?" His voice was mild. "I'll be there in a minute."
He saw Spike shoot him a worried look out of the corner of his eye, but his lover was for once mercifully silent and took Angel by the arm and hauled the older vampire out of the building and onto the sidewalk outside. Hearing the door click shut behind them, Xander said, very sharply, "Don't say a single word."
Willow's mouth, which had been opening to say something or ask something, Xander didn't care which, snapped shut as her unhappy eyes stared at him.
He slowly unbuttoned his shirt, then pulled it off his body. He stood shirtless in the middle of the room, the healing rune visible in stark relief against his tanned skin. Willow and Tara both gasped, while Dawn just stared in morbid fascination, still silent.
"I got this in a dream the night before last," Xander said slowly, every word aimed like little hammer blows at Giles's quiet, closed face. "It's a rune of Becoming. The Powers have decided, for some reason, that until they can find someone better that I'm to guard the damn Hellmouth. We came here tonight to get your help, but I can see that you're no Watcher anymore. You're good for nothing but drinking your life away and bitterly blaming everyone that you come in contact with for Buffy's death. Well, wake up. She's dead. She's not coming back. And you're the worst tribute to her life that you could possibly be. Don't say anything," he reminded Willow when she opened her mouth again. "I'm almost done. Now, we came here tonight for your help, but you don't have any to give. Which is fine by me, actually. We'll keep the beasties away from your door, and you can curl up in a little ball and drink yourself to death. And when the next Slayer is called- I'm guessing a couple months, at the outside- then she'll come here. And I will find her, and tell her the way of things, and let her know not to come to you for help. There's a perfectly well-trained Watcher close by in LA, and if she needs something then Wesley can do it for her." That got a reaction, and not a happy one. Still jealous of your Slayer? She's gone, move on. He stared hard at Giles, then sighed and finished his little speech.
"Because you're useless."
He shook his head with disgust and turned sharply, heading for the door with long strides. Then he stopped, just for a moment, and turned his head to look at the rest of the room. Everyone was frozen, stuck in ice and unable to react. He snorted and left the building, slamming the door shut behind him.
He found Spike and Angel a few steps down the sidewalk. Angel was leaning back against the building, eyes closed, with a bleak expression on his face. Spike allowed himself to shoot a worried glance at Xander, and he smiled to himself in response, knowing that Spike would never have done it if Angel hadn't had his eyes closed.
"Giles has been living at the bottom of the bottle for months," Xander said slowly. "He's not really in his right mind, or even his left or any mind at all that ever belonged to Giles. Except maybe the scary teenage version, and that is so not the point." He shook his head slightly, refocusing his thoughts. "He tries to blame everyone else because he doesn't want to admit that he blames himself."
"Don't worry," Angel said. "You don't need to explain. I get it."
"You don't get a bloody thing, mate," Spike said calmly. "You usually don't. Too much hair gel, fries the brain."
"Says the guy who uses half a bottle every morning," Xander said. "But Angel's grooming habits are definitely not the point."
"Angel's grooming habits are a point all on their own," Spike argued, then held up a hand before Xander could say anything. "Yeah, I know." He turned to his Sire. "Cliffnotes version of that little byplay? You're a moron who lets the angry words of a drunk get to you even when there's not a grain of truth in 'em. Now come home with us and we'll get you drunk and make you watch bad movies till you stop brooding for a bit." He cast an amused look at Xander. "You might want to put a shirt on for a bit, luv," he said with a bit of a laugh buried in his voice. "Might get arrested or something."
"Yeah, yeah," Xander said, and shrugged into his shirt. He put one hand briefly on the bottom button, then shrugged and left it open. He took one of Angel's arms, Spike took another, and they dragged him off without looking back.
Angel was drunk. He hadn't been drunk in a very long time, but then Spike knew how to mix a drink to get anyone smashed- even him. Liberal amounts of something strong mixed in with blood- human blood, and wasn't that a kicker, Xander getting rejected donor blood for his boytoy from the hospital?
They were piled onto the couch in Xander's living room, staring with varying degrees of vacancy at the tv screen. John Carpenter's "Vampires." Christ, what an awful movie- Xander had a decidedly twisted sense of humor. Spike was curled tightly against his right side, almost asleep, with his head pillowed against Angel's chest. Xander was draped over his left side, grinning at the screen and occasionally reciting the worst lines with a mockingly cheesy voice. All in all, it was the most of any sort of physical contact he'd received in a couple years.
Christ, he was so hard he hurt.
He let his head drop back against the back of the couch. This was bad. He had to get out of here. Because he had two men who were lying half on top of him and pretty soon one of them was going to notice the erection straining against the fly of his jeans.
He shifted a little, wanting to see if he could get away with actually moving, but Spike muttered something in his sleep and just curled closer. He couldn't tell if Xander had noticed his movement or not, but one leg curled around his and the arm draped across his stomach tightened a little, trapping him from the other side. Right, so... new plan of action.
"Do you want us to move?" Xander asked. Yeah, maybe he had noticed his movement.
"Yeah," Angel said, neglecting to mention why. Xander tilted his head up a little to give him a warm, sleepy smile, and slid up his chest until his face was just a breath away from the vampire's throat. Angel felt the boy's warm breath on the skin of his throat, and then a hand resting on his thigh. All perfectly innocent, almost, except...
Except Spike was suddenly moving on his other side, and had slid one hand up to the top of his chest and was slowly pulling the buttons out of their buttonholes, one at a time, while his free hand was mimicking Xander's on his other thigh and was slowly sliding higher. Xander moved just a breath closer and licked his throat lightly, right along the place where a pulse would have been throbbing if he'd been human and that should have bothered Xander except he was already sleeping with a vampire and should be used to it and oh Christ Spike had gotten his shirt unbuttoned and was licking at one nipple while rubbing the other with his free hand and the two hands, one cool and the other warm, were almost at their goal and if they got much higher than his control would definitely snap and he'd do something that he would definitely regret in the morning...
"Stop, please," he whispered, his voice just a broken thread of sound, and Xander moved his head just enough to look at him though Spike didn't bother, just switching his attentions to the other nipple while his hand wandered down to brush feather-light circles on his stomach. Xander smiled a little at him and tilted his head, a question in his eyes that was slowly finding its way to his lips.
"Do you really want us to stop?"
His brain stuttered and ground to a halt just before he could tell them that yes, he really did want them to stop, because he suddenly had two hands on his erection and even though the sensation was blunted by the fabric of his slacks it was enough to make him arch off the couch, his head thrown back and his eyes closed. He felt Xander's smile against his throat, and then Spike was moving lower, pressing moist kisses to his belly and then hands were tugging at the buttons of his slacks and this was so, so wrong but it felt so damn good and it had been so long and the sound of the zipper being lowered was loud in the quiet of the room, and it was almost enough to bring him back to sanity except Xander's mouth was on his throat, sucking lightly right over his jugular and he could feel a cool breath over his cock and he'd lost all power to speak, to think, and he was dying...
The smash of the door splintering off its hinges screamed into the sound of muffled breathing, and his eyes snapped open to see a tower of blue slime with eyes standing in the doorway, looking like it was ready to munch on anyone that came near it. Or would be ready to munch on anyone that came near it, if only it had a mouth.
Xander was away from his side in an instant, and Spike leapt up to but kept back as Xander snatched up a sword that just happened to be lying on his coffee table and advanced on the demon. Only one of the Scoobies would keep a sword on the coffee table, he found himself thinking hysterically, and quickly zipped up his pants over his deflating erection and got ready to lunge off of the couch to help Xander.
Only Spike pushed him back down, and when he tried to fight the unyielding grip on his arm he leaned down and hissed into his ear, "Boy's got to learn how to fight all over again now that he has his powers, doesn't he?"
"Now's not the time," Angel argued, but the point was moot since Xander had neatly ducked the first clumsy swing of a slime-tentacle and had stuck the sword straight through the middle of the thing and yanked sideways, cleanly severing it in half. Blue slime exploded everywhere, then evaporated in seconds, just as the one that they'd killed the night before had done, according to Spike.
Xander turned to them and grinned widely, shaking his dark hair out of his eyes. "Self-cleaning demons," he said, and there was a wealth of satisfaction in his voice. "Only the best for the newly-made warriors, yeah?"
"Yeah," Spike said with a proud grin, and jumped up to wrap Xander in a hug. The boy chuckled, then turned in the vampire's embrace to regard Angel with his dark bedroom eyes.
"Demon has a bad sense of timing," he said after a long moment, and Spike nodded silent agreement. Angel found himself pinned by their combined stares, but managed to shake himself free and stood up before starting to button his shirt.
"I can't," he said harshly, far more harshly than he'd meant to. "I have to go."
He'd expected Xander to look hurt, but the boy just shook his head with a grin and started back to the bedroom with Spike.
"Sure," he said over his shoulder. "We got the power turned on in the old factory and it's actually got running water this time, so you should be pretty comfortable there. Lock your door on the way out."
Then the door was shut behind them and Angel was staring after them with a severely bemused expression on his face. Then he shook his head, clearing his thoughts away for the time being, and left the apartment, making sure to lock the door on the way out.