Chapter One: Sunnydale, California: Seventeen years later.
Dalton was sure he was going to die. He never should have let his young charge go off hunting with Damien, Master Spike's headstrong fledgling. Now both the boy and the young vampire had failed to return to the lair and it was almost sunrise. The scholarly vampire cursed himself in as many languages as he knew as he ran through the cemetery, still searching frantically.
As Dalton raced past a large tombstone, he felt his knees buckle and he hit the ground hard. He tensed, waiting for the inevitable stake to come down and end his existence.
The stake never came. Dalton cautiously opened his eyes and saw a familiar pair of Birkenstock-covered feet just inches away from his face. The vampire sighed with relief as soft laughter reached his ears.
"You know, Dalton; you really need to lighten up."
Dalton glared at the young human. "I would 'lighten up' if you would stop making my unlife utterly miserable, young Alexander!" he muttered gruffly, taking Alexander's outstretched hand. "Where's Damien? You were supposed to stay with him!" he accused, covering up his fear for the boy's well-being with annoyance.
Xander rolled his eyes and brushed his long hair back from his face. He glared defiantly at the vampire whom had been his surrogate father ever since he had been taken from Greece seventeen years earlier. "You know he hates me. He's hated me ever since Spike named me his heir, rather than naming his own Childe." The boy shrugged. "It's his problem that Spike favours me, not mine."
Dalton sighed and brushed himself off, taking a quick glance at the sky. Apart from a bruised ego, he wasn't injured. "I know Damien can be difficult, but you must try to make peace with him. It'll only end up hurting you in the long run if you don't," the scholar pointed out. Xander grunted, but said nothing.
"Now, let's head back to the nest and hope Damien showed some sense and did the same; the sun will be up shortly. Oh, and go see Master Spike as soon as you get a moment. He wishes to discuss the matter of you attending school on Monday."
Xander looked up sharply. "School?" he repeated, confused. School had been the one thing he had been denied growing up. Dalton had tutored him for several hours each day in history, mathematics, english, and science, as well as teaching him vampire lore, but that was the extent of his education.
"Yes. Hasn't the Master mentioned it to you yet? No? Ah, well, I suppose he was waiting for the opportune moment. You know how he gets."
Xander nodded absently, blocking Dalton's chatter out from his mind. Mentally, he reached for Spike's mind, curious as to why the Master vampire had decided to allow him to go to school after all. Spike natural mental blocks, however, prevented the dark-eyed teen from probing further. Temporarily thwarted, Xander turned his attention back to Dalton.
"...hopes that you could get close to the Slayer," Dalton finished.
"A Slayer? That's why we're here?" Xander asked, stunned and a little hurt that Spike had kept this from him.
Dalton sighed. "Yes, Xander. That's what I've been saying. You need to start paying more attention, my boy."
"I'm not your boy." The words were hissed out with more venom than Dalton had expected from the teen. "I'm Spike's in all but body," the whiskey-eyed boy continued. "I'll be fully his by my eighteenth birthday." With that, Xander quickened his stride and was soon far ahead of his foster-father.
The vampire let him go. He knew from many years of experience that Xander's mood swings were often as unpredictable as Master Spike's. The best thing Dalton could do was to give the longhaired boy space.
Xander arrived back at the temporary headquarters of what remained of the Order of Aurelius shortly before Dalton. The young telepath wasted no time and made a beeline for Spike's private quarters, ignoring the bows of respect he received from the minions and young vampires. Captive humans pleaded with him to show some mercy and release them, but Xander ignored them as well; they and the minions were nothing to him.
"Master Spike is expecting me," Xander announced as he approached the two vampire warriors guarding Spike's door. He wasn't required to tell the guards why he needed to see the Master vampire, but he always said something to them out of courtesy.
The taller of the two guards bowed low. "Of course, Liegen," he said, moving out of Xander's way. Nodding his thanks to the two males, the young man pushed the doors open and stepped inside.
The first thing that Xander noticed whenever he went into Spike's quarters was how good it always smelled. No matter how badly the rest of the lair smelled, Spike's rooms always had a pleasant scent to them. Candles lined the walls, providing both light and a pleasant scent of pine into the room.
Spike was lying on the bed with a newspaper in his hands, his upper body propped up with a pile of pillows. The red silk shirt he was wearing was unbuttoned and open, giving Xander a nice view of the older man's torso.
"I thought you hated reading the paper," Xander teased, briefly touching Spike's mind with his own in greeting.
The British vampire grunted. "They 'ave their uses," he allowed, carefully folding the newspaper and setting it down on the small table next to the bed. Xander chose that moment to crawl up onto the bed beside Spike and curl up next to him.
"Such as?"
"Making sure my wanker of a Childe hasn't done anything to draw any attention to our presence here," Spike purred as he gently nuzzled the boy's neck.
"Speaking of Damien, did he ever make it back here? He lost me up by the Sun Cinema."
"Yeah. He came strollin' in about ten minutes before you. Thought he was all 'igh an' mighty losing his Sire's heir," Spike growled, propping himself up on Xander's broad chest. "I believe I managed to convince him otherwise," he added with a feral grin. "But Damien isn't what you came to talk to me about, and I'm assuming this isn't just a social visit."
The longhaired boy broke eye contact; his gaze drifting to the newspaper lying on the table, then back to the sky blue eyes of his benefactor. He knew he could be direct with Spike, but was hesitant to do so. He was hurt that Spike had hid something as big as a Slayer's presence from him, but he did know that the Brit must've had a good reason to do so.
Rubbing the skin at the nape of Spike's neck, Xander looked the vampire squarely in the eyes. "Why didn't you tell me there was a Slayer here? Or that you were planning on sending me to school?"
Spike blinked, momentarily thrown off guard by the question and by the tone in Xander's voice. "Slayer? How did you- oh. Of course: Dalton." The Brit sighed and rolled off Xander's chest, propping himself up on one elbow. "I didn't want you knowing anything about this until I was certain that you were ready for this mission, and that I was ready to let you go," he finished quietly, taking the teen's hand in a rare gesture of affection.
"How did you manage to block me out mentally too? I didn't even pick up anything from Dalton, and his shields are worse than a newborn's."
Spike leaned over and picked up a small black object from the table and handed it to the younger man. "Psychic dampers," he explained as Xander examined the nondescript black box. "It blocks out telepathy to a certain degree. I made sure Dalton stayed within its range when he went looking for you and that tosser of a fledgling."
Xander looked up at Spike, shocked that the vampire had done this. How many other things had he kept hidden? How many things will he hide? Taking great care not to let his inner turmoil and pain show on his face, the young telepath handed the damper back to the vampire. "What did I do to warrant this distrust, Master?" he asked calmly, using the formal title that only he did not have to use. For the first time in his life, Xander wondered where he really stood with Spike.
"I'm not 'Master,' pet, you know that," Spike said softly, reaching out to caress Xander's cheek. A look of pain crossed his face when the boy flinched away. "I do trust you; you're my heir and soon to be my Consort. I just didn't want you finding out too soon and rushing into things." The vampire leaned in and gently pressed his lips to Xander's temple, ignoring the younger male's squeak of protest. "I didn't want to risk you getting hurt, luv." With that, Spike crushed the delicate psychic inhibitor easily with one hand, letting the pieces fall to the floor.
Xander let out a sigh of relief as the blocks the damper had created were lifted. He could now be reassured that Spike was telling the truth; his thoughts would betray him if he were lying. Smiling, he allowed himself to relax once more, snuggling up close to Spike. He hesitated a moment before giving the smaller man a chaste kiss. Spike rarely allowed him to do so, and when he did, the kisses were short, almost platonic. It was frustrating for the teen, but his eighteenth birthday was only four months away. He could wait.
"So, about this Slayer..."