Chapter Eight: Possessed. Eyghon is on the prowl, but Xander has bigger problems: namely, a certain bleached blonde vampire who's decided that Xander is his...

"Hey, what are you two up to?"

Buffy looked up at Xander and sighed. "Just playing a quick game of anywhere but here. So far, we've been to an island beach, and Florence, Italy."

"Ahhh," Xander said. "At the moment, I have to go for, 'home, asleep.'"

Willow gave him a sympathetic look. "It must have been a long night. Usually you go for, 'Amy Yip at the waterslide park.'"

"Well, besides the fact that Amy Yip doesn't exactly ring my bells anymore, yeah, it was a long night."

When he said nothing else, Buffy poked him in the side. "So, tell. Did you patrol or something?"

He hitched one shoulder defensively. "Just couldn't sleep, is all," he said. "It's not big deal. Everyone has nights like that, right?"

Willow patted his arm. "Of course we do," she said, shooting a warning glare at Buffy. "It happens to us all."

Buffy nodded, having caught the hint. "Sure. Just last week I was up for almost three nights straight. I was exhausted all day, but I just couldn't go to sleep. Mom swears by hot milk, though- did you try that?"

Xander gave her a look that said he wasn't fooled, but was grateful, nonetheless, for her playing along. "I'll try that tonight, maybe," he said. "If it happens again."

He spotted Giles heading towards them and waved. "Hey, G-Man! What's the haps?"

Giles blinked at them, looking slightly befuddled, but then, Southern California slang often eluded him. "Er, what?"

"What's going on?" Willow translated. "Anything interesting?"

"Well, delivery night is tonight," he said. It was Buffy's turn to blink, but Xander nodded, since he spent more time actually talking with Angel, rather than making with the kissing, and therefore knew what Giles was talking about.

"The donor blood that gets delivered to the hospital, Buff," Xander explained. "Vamp Meals on Wheels."

"Hopefully not," Giles said severely. "Buffy, I need you to meet me at eight thirty, sharp."

Buffy winced. "I, well, kinda promised my mom I'd stay in with her tonight. Um, Xander could you- No," she interrupted herself. "You need to sleep tonight."

Xander shrugged. "It's no big deal," he said. "I can spare an hour or so to protect the interests of the injured citizens of Sunnydale. Eight thirty, Giles?"

Giles looked like he wanted to protest, but after a moment he nodded. "I'll bring the weaponry."

Xander nodded agreement, then waved a silent goodbye and turned to leave, without any warning. Buffy and Willow both watched him walk away, and waited till he was out of earshot before they turned towards each other and Buffy said, "Is it just me, or is Xander very much not okay?"

Willow nodded. "He's not okay. We're definitely agreed on that."

"He did look somewhat... less than at his best," Giles said hesitantly. "Do either of you have an idea as to what might be wrong?"

"Well, there's this guy," Willow started.

"And apparently he's really messing with Xander's head," Buffy continued.

"Xander's not dealing with it very well."

"With the not sleeping, and everything."

"And he's been patrolling a lot more than he lets on, so he's probably getting even less sleep than he admits to."

"And Angel told me that Xander talks to him on the phone sometimes, and even he's worried about him."

"That's... interesting," Giles managed, trying to take in the flood of information. "Do you know who this person is, that's bothering Xander so much?"

"No." Buffy looked both sulky and militant, somehow. "If I knew who he was, then I'd have tracked him down and kicked his ass already."

Willow nodded with an uncommonly bloodthirsty glint in her eye. "I agree with Buffy," she said. "Xander's a good guy. I've known him forever, and he's never done anything to deserve this. Well, except possibly calling me a boogerhead in first grade."

Giles sighed and took off his glasses to polish them. "We can't get involved in this," he said gently. "Even if we knew who this person was- do you really think that Xander would appreciate your interference?" Both girls were silent. "He needs to work this out on his own."

"I know," Buffy sighed. "Do we have to like it?"

Giles smiled at her. "No, you don't have to like it."

Xander tapped one finger over the face of his watch. "Half an hour late," he muttered to himself. "Giles, if I weren't so tired I would almost think this was funny."

He heard the thrum of an engine, and watched with interest as the van pulled up and the driver handed off the cooler to the two doctors that were waiting for him. Then the wind changed, blowing their scent to Xander's nose, and his eyes narrowed.

Vampires.

He waited till the van had driven off to make his move, then almost groaned aloud when he saw the car start up in the shadows and pull forward. Three of them? Great. Make my night.

One of them opened the cooler and pulled out one of the packets. Xander closed his eyes, almost tempted to just forget it and let evil have their way for one night, but... No. He was the good guy, the white hat, stalwart and true. He fought evil. He prevented evil from stealing blood when they were too damn lazy to hunt it down themselves.

He sighed, once, to make himself feel better, and charged.

He laid out two of them with the first few blows, but the third came up behind him and knocked him flat on his ass. He managed to kick free of its grip and pull a stake free, but when he was about to bring it down he stopped himself, realizing that their little group had one more member.

"Xander?" Angel said, and Xander gave a little sarcastic wave before launching himself at the vampire that was just now regaining his feet, right behind Angel's back.

Between the two of them they managed to dust both of the fake doctors, but other one drove off, thankfully without the blood in the back seat of his car. Xander shuddered to think what Buffy would have had to say about him losing the blood he'd been sent to protect.

"They only ruined one package," Angel said from the cooler, where he was kneeling and checking the contents. "The rest are good to go."

Xander smiled tiredly at him. "Good to hear it."

Angel nudged the lid back down and stood up, studying his face critically. "You don't look so good," Angel said finally. "Even more than the last time I saw you. Buffy said you weren't sleeping?"

Xander shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "I'm sure I'll get over it. I'd take sedatives, but, well, not really likely to work on me."

"Drugs aren't as potent with vampires," Angel said apologetically. "If you're that tired, why are you here?"

"Buffy had a thing with her mom," Xander explained. "She couldn't away to take care of this, so I was volunteered. Giles was supposed to meet me, but..." He lifted one hand in a what-can-you-say gesture.

"Why don't you go home?" Angel suggested. "I can make sure that this gets safely into the hospital."

Xander sighed as he considered the offer. "Can you call Buffy when you get home?" he said. "Giles wasn't here, and it's not really like him to be late, so Buffy should probably swing by his place and make sure everything's okay. I'd do it, but..."

"But that would defeat the point of going home and getting some sleep," Angel pointed out. "Go. I can handle things for one night."

Xander shot him a grateful, if somewhat worn, smile. "Thanks, man," he said. "I owe you one."

Angel watched Xander walk away. "You don't owe me anything," Angel said, mostly to himself since Xander was out of earshot, even with vampire senses. "Except maybe to tell the name of the one who's doing this to you so I can kill him slowly."

Xander waited till he was out of Angel's sight to let go of the energetic walk and just trudge, like he wanted to. His feet felt heavy, and he wasn't sure that he could really defend himself if some nasty did decide to attack him. Then again, as bad as he felt at the moment, he would almost welcome some sort of Hellmouthy death.

As if God had been waiting for that thought, there was a scuffling noise from off to his right. Xander glanced over, but didn't see anything. He stopped, tried to decide whether if was worth investigating, and came to the conclusion that he might as well look, because if he didn't, then whatever it was, it was sure to come and get him later. It was some unwritten Hellmouth law.

He left the sidewalk and made his way into the stand of trees where the sound had come from. Instead of a demon waiting to pounce, he found a very large and very dead demon, with its head ripped almost completely off and a burnt-out cigarette lying on its eye.

Xander stared at it for a long moment, then turned and walked away as fast as he could.

He got home a few minutes longer, and made his way up to his room as quickly as he could, hoping to avoid a confrontation with his parents. Luckily, his dad was out terrorizing sheep or something, and his mom was too hammered to even notice him coming in, so he had a fairly easy escape.

He flicked off the light before taking off his clothes, and then located the oldest and most comfortable pair of sweats he could find by moonlight and pulled them on. He went to the window and looked out, staring at but not quite meeting the eyes of the man who stood on the sidewalk, leaning against the lamppost and smoking.

Xander pulled the curtain closed, like he had for the last week, and crawled into bed with a whimper of relief, like he had for the last week.

And then, feeling Spike's presence outside, he lay awake for hours, just like he had for the last week.

The ringing phone woke him from what felt like about half an hour of sleep, though he knew it was more like four hours. He'd finally dropped off right around sunrise, not coincidentally when Spike had finally left.

He almost knocked the phone off the hook when he groped for it, but he finally managed to grab it and bring it to his ear. "Hello?" he croaked.

"Xander, it's Cordelia."

He pulled the phone away from his ear for a second and stared at it in sheer astonishment, then put it back and said, "Not to be rude, but why are you calling? How do you even know this number?"

"Buffy told me, and she's the one who told me to call you. There's some major trouble with Giles and a walking dead guy that dissolved, and she wants you to get down here to research or something."

Xander shook his head, and tried to think. "Um, library?"

"Where else?"

Xander scowled. "I'll be there as soon as I can."

He slammed the phone down, but when he tried to stand up, he wobbled. Well, as soon as he could might be a little longer than he'd thought, if he was really that weak.

He contemplated just falling back on the bed, like every atom of his body was screaming for him to do, but concern for Giles motivated him into movement. Very slowly movement, admittedly, but movement nonetheless.

It occurred to him that he wouldn't be able to continue like this for much longer, but he brushed the thought aside. He'd manage. He always did, one way or another. There was no reason why this time should be any different.

No reason at all.

Buffy had been alarmed for a solid hour before Xander had showed up. She had plenty to be alarmed over, with Giles and the Mark of Eyghon, whatever it was, and she really didn't need any more.

But when Xander walked in the door, moving slowly even for a fully normal human without vampire powers, she felt the worry increase. He looked, quite simply, like hell. His eyes were bloodshot and had dark circles under them, his normally golden skin was ashen, and he was dressed in sweatpants that she'd bet he'd slept in and a t-shirt that was inside out.

"Xander, what the hell happened to you?"

He looked up blearily at her strident question. "Nothing," he said. "Couldn't sleep again last night, is all. I'm fine."

"You're definitely not fine," she said, and Willow was by her side by this point, the commotion having pulled her away from the computer. "You look like hell, and you know it."

He gave them a disgruntled look and brushed past them without answering, settling down at the table and picking up a book. Buffy and Willow followed him and stood over him till he looked up with a glare.

"Look, I know I look bad. Maybe I'm sick or something. If so, you two can play Florence freaking Nightingale after we've dealt with the latest crisis, okay? I think I can last that long."

"You better," Willow said, and gave an extra-hard glare to emphasize her point before going back to the computer. Buffy gave him another hard look, and he held up a hand defensively.

"Look, I'll be okay. I'm hardier than I look. Just tell me what I'm trying to find in these dusty books, and I'll be good."

"The Mark of Eyghon," Buffy said after a long silence. "But if you start looking worse, I'm gonna call Angel and get him to take you home, you hear me?"

"Yes, mom," he said meekly, and that seemed to satisfy her, because she finally went away and left him with his book and his headache.

Willow was, as usual, the brilliant one. He'd know this since first grade, of course, but it was always reassuring to see it put into action, especially when it saved their asses.

She was off, with Cordelia in tow, to meet Buffy at Ethan's Costume Shoppe, and Angel was supposed to meet them there. Xander had wanted to go with them, but Willow had put her foot down, very firmly, and told him to either stay there or go home. He'd chosen option number two, and was now walking- well, staggering- in the general direction of home, hoping against hope that Willow's brilliant plan would actually work, and that someone would remember to call him and tell him so, afterwards.

He reached the place where he would turn off to head towards his house, and stopped. He could make the turn, and actually go home like he said he would, or he could keep going straight, towards the abandoned factory where Spike had nested with Dru.

After a long moment's consideration, he went straight.

Spike heard him coming long before he got to the door, of course, and the vampire was waiting just inside the threshold, confined there by the last long fingers of the setting sun.

"Pet, what the hell happened to you?" Spike demanded, and Xander felt an inexplicable urge to laugh at the unconscious echo of Buffy's words.

"Oh, nothing. Just a week without food and sleep. Think you might know anything about that, Spike?"

Spike stared at him. "I wasn't stopping you from eating and sleeping," he said deliberately. "I didn't stand there and force you to go without."

"No, you just followed me around and kept me up at night just by being there, and I couldn't stop thinking about it and I could never force myself to eat anything because I knew that come sunset you'd be there, lurking, and I just... I give up, alright? I surrender. Take what you want, do whatever the hell you want to do, just let me have some peace. Is that too much to ask?"

Spike darted forward and pulled him inside before he could be burnt by the fading sun. He tucked Xander into an embrace, which should have felt wrong since Spike was shorter than him, but it didn't because Spike felt strong, and it felt right, somehow. And it was wrong, because it felt so right.

"No, it's not too much to ask," Spike said into his ear, and all the snark and swagger and violence that colored all of their previous encounters was gone, leaving a sort of tenderness in its place. "Come inside, yeah? I'll get you fixed up some. If I'd known I was causing you this much trouble, I would have..." He paused to consider, then said, "Well, I probably would have done exactly the same thing, but I would have made my move sooner. Was waiting for the right moment, I was. Should have forgotten all the stalking bollocks and just grabbed you."

He was leading Xander deeper into the factory as he spoke, and he settled him in one of the chairs surrounding the long, scarred table in the middle of the empty space. "Lucius," he said, without looking away from Xander, "Run out and get some food for the boy. He's a mite peckish."

A slightly overweight vampire nodded and left the factory at a run. Spike smoothed Xander's hair away from his forehead, and he looked quite serious as he said, "I'm gonna take care of you, pet. Just for tonight. Let me take care of you?"

"Okay," Xander whispered, long beyond saying no to this vampire who'd gotten so far under his skin he felt like he couldn't really breathe anymore. Spike smiled and sat in the chair next to his, turning it and scooting closer till his knees were brushing against Xander's own, a contact that somehow felt more intimate than anything they'd done together on Halloween.

Spike reached out to gently tug at Xander's collar, pulling it away to reveal the scars from Spike's bite. "You heal fast," Spike remarked. "I expected that. I didn't expect to leave a scar, though."

Xander nodded to the scar cutting through Spike's eyebrow. "You got that after being turned, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but it was from a blessed sword. My first Slayer. You probably only scarred because you're still alive."

"Yeah," Xander said. "Lucky me."

Spike reached out and laid his hand over the scars. Xander leaned unconsciously into the touch, closing his eyes at the feel of cool, calloused skin against his own.

"Right now, luv," Spike said, very seriously, "I'm thinking that I'm the lucky one."

"Hey Buffy," Willow called, and caught up to her friend. "Have you talked to Xander?"

Buffy shook her head. "He wasn't answering his phone. Do you think something happened to him?"

"I let him go off on his own!" Willow wailed. "What if he got eaten or something?"

"Okay, let's focus," Buffy said. "Do we have any idea where he is?"

Willow shook his head. "Not at home, not in class. I checked the library, but it was a no-go. He could be anywhere!"

Buffy wondered if she looked as worried as she felt, and figured that she probably did. "Well, wherever he is, I hope he wakes up soon, and calls us. I'm starting to get worried."

Several miles away, in the abandoned factory on the edge of town, Xander slept on, wrapped tightly in Spike's arms.