vinniebatman

Title: Ride the Broom! 1/2
Series: Mischief and Porn: the Journals of Xander Harris
Author: vinniebatman aka batmanvinnie
Fandom: BtVS/Harry Potter. Takes place after Season Five of Angel, and lives in it's own altered version of Year Eight in HP. Just go with it, 'kay? Also, pay no attention to the Season 8 comic.
Pairings: Spander, of course, references to established Faith/Andrew
Rating/Warnings: Adult for the gay man on man loving! (yay!)
Prompt: Harry Potter 'verse suggested by DOOMSDAYBRUNETTE at TtH
Summary: After pissing off all the slayers, Willow sends Spike and Xander on a trip to a school in Scotland. Some of the students may never recover.
Teaser: We only discovered the store a week ago, and since that time, the pranks we have pulled are mighty! The best ones were when we turned Angel into a Canary, made Buffy puke during a meeting with the Prime Minister, and gave Faith a Ton-Tongue Toffee. God, the only thing funnier than making someone lisp and mumble around their massively oversized tongue is when that person is mumbling and lisping with a Boston accent.
Disclaimer: I hired a pack of ninjas to kidnap Joss and Rowling; they were threatened with hot poker torture, chainsaws, and an exorcism. I now own all. Thank you. *Doctor's Note: Patient exhibits delusions of grandeur and any claims of ownership are pure fantasy. No harm is meant. Seriously, it's better than her throwing rocks at people.
Previous Parts: Archived HERE
A/N: Okay, so I wrote two stories about a terminally ill Xander being turned by Spike, and the zany whacky goodness that followed. I posted this story on TtH, and I got some requets for more, and some suggestions for furture ideas. Essentially, this is going to be Spike and Xander traveling, gettting into different fandoms, and having lots of the sex.

It was a dark and stormy night, the kind that was all dark and stormy. With Spike as my Sire, things were getting kinda weird around Watcher HQ. And by weird I mean dangerous. Because Spike and I have become public enemy number one. (Or is it public enemies numbers one and two, or are we considered one entity? Have to check on that.) And it all happened when we discovered what I liked to call the "Super Sekrit Wizards Club," a hidden society of magic users. Actually, we didn't so much discover it as finally notice the giant, magically cloaked area of Diagon Ally. We also found out about the floo network, which allows you to travel between fire places. Andrew discovered the danger in using floo powder if you say "diagonally" instead of "Diagon Alley." He ended up in Creepy-Town and got molested by some old hag. He spent the next two days in his room muttering "the warts, the warts," before Faith got pissed and used her patented "Faith LeHane Angry Sex," cure.

Anyways, back to the dangerous. See, while in Diagon Alley, Spike and I discovered the greatest place on Earth, a joke shop called "Weasley's Wizard Wheezes." God, that place is awesome! The toys, the gags, the pranks! (Okay, speaking of toys, I will have to revise my opinion; the actual greatest place on Earth is this sex shop we found in London, but moving on.) We only discovered the store a week ago, and since that time, the pranks we have pulled are mighty! The best ones were when we turned Angel into a Canary, made Buffy puke during a meeting with the Prime Minister, and gave Faith a Ton-Tongue Toffee. God, the only thing funnier than making someone lisp and mumble around their massively oversized tongue is when that person is mumbling and lisping with a Boston accent.

So Willow (who we decided not to prank beyond dying her skin frog-green because she is mighty and could squish us like bugs) told us to take off before we got killed by an angry horde of Slayers. And we did. We've decided to complete my road trip (with a few stops in the UK), so a couple days ago we rented a car and drove from London to Scotland. Willow needed us to go to Scotland to meet some old lady and give her some magic jewelry we found in the Council's Super Sekrit Vault in Wales. We don't need it and apparently it's kind of important. We figured we can drop off the car at an airport and take a night flight from the UK to the States. Over those few days, Spike had made it his personal mission to cause as much damage to the car as possible. (Well, actually, he's made nailing me in as many different cities and states his personal mission. I know because he said so. Causing damage to the rental is just his short-term goal.)

As our craptacular chariot wound its way through the bonny hills of Scotland, we came upon a large, wrought iron gate, which was the only visible opening in a tall, stone fence. Rolling hills and a lake were visible beyond the gate. And as soon as we got within five feet, the car died.

"What the fuck is wrong with this piece of shite?" Spike growled. (Ahh, there is nothing better than Spike's growl. Except his eyes. Oh, and his mouth. And his penis is really good, too . . . moving on.) I frowned at him.

"You mean aside from that ditch you drove though and the log you ran over while chasing that herd of sheep for a mile over rough country?" Spike turned and glared at me. It was his "you suck and if I didn't fancy your arse so much, I'd totally kick you out of the car" glare. (I didn't really care, though, because he's not really mad at me unless gives me his "Bad Childe! No Sire-sex for you" glare. Which I hate, because then it means I have to go for like, twelve hours without sex. Twelve hours! But moving on . . . )

Spike shrugged. "I hate sheep. Creep me out."

"I can see that," I agreed. "They're so . . . smug. You know, I think Willow said that the school is protected by magic so electronic stuff doesn't work."

"Stupid new cars. More computer than machine nowadays," Spike pouted. (He's so cute when he pouts. Just don't tell him I said that. Not that you can, I mean, you're a journal . . . moving on.)

"Well let's just get inside, okay? I'm kind of hungry and I'm tired of having sex in the car. It's too small!" I whined, giving him my puppy dog eyes. (I know I've mentioned it before, but I really dig having two eyes again. Depth perception is awesome!) Spike rolled his eyes, but reached into the back seat and grabbed our umbrella, big enough for us to share as long as we held hands. (Yeah, I know I'm a sap.) As we neared the gate, a feeling of dark foreboding rose in me. Spike's arm around my waist tensed and I knew he felt it too. Willow told us we were expected, but this place practically screamed "turn and run!" Then the gate opened, and the feeling of fear lifted like a curtain. A castle appeared, one that hadn't been there when the gate was closed. It was looked old and creepy, but it also looked pretty cool. We relaxed and felt pretty calm. Until a giant showed up.

Now when I say giant, I don't mean some super-tall guy like that Chinese basketball player. I mean a real giant, with the tallness and a beard.

"'Allo, name's Hagrid. Professor McGonagall asked me ta fetch ya," he said, smiling. He turned and walked away, waving us after him. He was so friendly and well, jolly, that we didn't really consider not following him. Well, I just started in surprise while Spike followed, pulling me along. We followed him while he talked about the lake, its squid, and something called a quidditch pitch; I dunno what he talked about. I was still staring in surprise. I mean, he was really a giant!

"Damn, I need to get some of those magic Wheaties," I muttered. Spike snorted.

"What for, pet?"

I shrugged. "Buffy. The only Slayers shorter than her are the preteens. She'd dig the magic Wheaties, maybe even enough to not want to kill us any more."

Eventually the path ended as we reached the castle. As Hagrid entered the building, while Spike and I smacked into the magical barrier.

"Oi! Hagrid!" The giant stopped and turned toward us, a bright grin on his face.

"Yes?"

"You need to invite us in, mate. Didn't McGonagall tell ya?" Spike asked. At this point I wasn't really watching the giant; I was too busy staring at the entrance hall. It was huge and I started to wish I'd gone to school there.

"Oh, tha's right; yer vampires. Forgot about it," he smiled.

"Vampires? Since when do we invite them into the school?" sneered a voice. Looking over, a thin, creepy, smelly, greasy looking guy with a cat oozed out of the shadows. And he smelled, did I mention that? He smelled like old clothing that wasn't dirty, but had gone unwashed for too long and bore the scents of cleaning products and sweat. To a vampire, it's pretty strong and nasty.

"The Headmistress invited them, Argus, an' I'm not about to go 'gainst 'er wishes," Hagrid drawled. Straightening his posture, the giant proudly declared: "I, Rubeus Hagrid, invite you into Hogwarts school of Witchcraft and Wizardry."

Spike and I grinned at each other. Hagrid defiantly wasn't the most educated guy, but he was nice and took his job seriously. We entered the hall and followed him. He led through two doors to a room filled with a screaming young children. It was kind of wiggy for me. I'd been a vampire for almost a year, but sometimes (mostly when I really tired and hungry), being around so many beating hearts would make me all growly. So of course I started getting growly until a flash of lighting drew my attention to the ceiling. Barely visible amid the clouds and falling rain were the arches and supports for the roof. Judging by the fact that it was dry inside, I figured that the ceiling was just somehow showing the sky outside, but either way it was pretty damn cool.

"Holy shit, Spike! This is way better than those glowing stars I had on my ceiling back in Sunnyhell!" I heard Spike chuckle next to me. Looking down and around, I realized that every student was staring at me. "Uh, hi!" I said, waving. The students just gawked at is, probably all crushing on Spike.

"Good evening, gentlemen." A female voice with a faint Scottish brogue grabbed our attention. We looked to what I guessed was the professor's table (you know, since it was filled with older people) where an older woman stood. We headed toward the table and moved toward the two empty seats between the older woman and a sneering man in black robes with black hair. Once seated, the Scottish woman, wearing green robes and square glasses, smiled and extended her hand.

"Hello, I'm Professor Minerva McGonagall," she offered.

"Xander Harris," I returned, shaking her hand. Spike was already sprawled out in his seat, ignoring all the stares of the students. "And this is Spike."

"I'm well aware of whom you are; I don't suppose you'd be willing to do a guest lecture in our 'Defense Against the Dark Arts,' class?" I looked at my Sire and he shrugged.

"Why not?" he drawled. "Always enjoy corrupting young minds."

"Excellent. Now, I believe you have something for us, don't you?" she hinted, using an authoritative tone that made me feel like I was a student. Spike tossed a package from inside his jacket onto the table.

McGonagall then introduced us to the other teachers. Spike and I immediately pegged the werewolf, who taught the Dark Arts class. The Headmistress must have told the professor's we'd be visiting, because the werewolf didn't seem the least bit surprised or bothered by our presence. She must have also told the kitchen staff too, because a small elf came out and brought us mugs of pigs blood, flavored with otter. (It was pretty damn good. I should have asked for the recipe or otter/pig ratio or whatever.) The mugs were also magiced to always stayed full. During the meal, I watched the students as they watched us warily. At one point, the elf that had served us popped (literally popped, here one second, there the next) over to the red table and started talking to a boy in glasses. The students next to him, a bushy-haired brunette and beefy redhead turned to look at us. Their eyes held a wary curiosity, as though they expected anything new to bad. The group then stared at Spike and me, suddenly suspicious. I figured that they'd brilliantly deduced (Journal, note the sarcasm) that Spike and I were vamps. Looking away, I scanned the other tables. A head of white-blonde hair attracted my attention. At a table under a green banner, sat a young man that looked like, well, Spike.

"Hey Spike, it's a mini you!" I joked, smiling. He followed my gaze before making a dismissive snort.

"Eh, he's not as cute as me." I turned to him. His face bore his customary "I Rock!" smirk, but his eyes were affectionate.

Seeing his eyes like that sent my mind spinning. I like it when he looks so relaxed, so comfortable with me. But sometimes he closes himself off around me, and I hate it. It makes my demon want to curl up and die, viewing his hestiance was rejection. And the fact that he doesn't trust me, Xander, hurt. In all honesty, my attraction to Spike started earlier than I'd like to admit. It started in some unconcious part of my mind, back in Sunnydale. Before, I was always so jealous. I knew he was an evil bloodsucker, but he was always so confident and attractive, a great fighter. I wanted to be like that. And of course Spike oozes sex appeal; I may not have wanted him at the time, but I was always aware of how fucking beautiful he was. I just didn't really think about it when I was human.

But when you get turned, all those little hang ups and fears disappear. I mean, I'm still nervous about what people think about me, but now I just don't feel like I need to hide things about myself. Spike said he'd turned me because he felt he owed it to us, to the Scoobies.  But one night he'd let it slip that he'd always found me attractive. (Actually, the exact phrasing was "God, pet, always knew you'd feel like this. Always knew how good you'd look underneath me, writhing and begging for my cock" . . . Wow, that's a really nice memory . . . moving on). Knowing that he'd wanted me before all of this happened... it changed something.

I'd already started to learn what kind of a person he is; he put up with my jokes, would sit with me through a science-fiction movie, and hold me when my demon gets too close to the surface and I started to freak out. I started feeling something like what I’d only felt for Anya, a love that I couldn’t fully describe, a comfort and need. Over the months that followed his revelation, I somehow fell in love with him.  It wasn't just because of the Sire bond. Childer look up to their Sire as the center of their world. There's that love, and there's lust, a lot of it. But there are all these parts that I love about him, little quirks and oddities.

But he still thought of me as an attractive Childe.  And it's not like he was ugly and would have trouble getting someone into his bed. At some point, he'd find someone more attractive than me. I knew that this was never some love match; he'd still done it as a favor for all of us, not just me. And since I'd fallen in love with him, it started killing me to know that.   Because some day, he'd tire of me tagging along, of sleeping only with me (I can't help that I take up all his time! My libido is worse than it was when I was sixteen!) and he'll move on.

Blinking away my thoughts, I smiled at him.

"No one's as hot as you, Sire," I whispered, letting the desire I felt flash my eyes to yellow. Spike growled and his eyes flashed back at me. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw the werewolf lift his head and sniff before smothering a grin. The black-haired man, introduced as Snape, sneered and began muttering under his breath. I grinned at Spike before returning my attention to my mug. Eventually the students began to leave the dining hall, followed by the teachers. The werewolf, Remus Lupin, led us out of the dining room.

"The house elves brought your belongings up and put your car in storage," he said, leading us out of the hall. Spike and I tensed as we exited the dining hall. We could hear three heart beats in the entry hall, but couldn't see anyone aside from the Professor. Spike followed Lupin, pretending not to have noticed anything. I followed Spike's lead, acting like nothing was out of the usual as we headed up the stairs.

"So, were you born wolfy?" Spike asked. (Tact? What is this word you speak of?)

"Um, no. I was bitten as a child," Lupin said softly.

"Really, wouldn't have thought so with your name," Spike muttered as we turned a corner at the top of the stairs. At the end of the hall we climbed another flight of stairs.

"I know, it is a bit of cruel irony," Lupin replied with a wry smile. "My family descends from an old wizarding line whose symbol was the wolf."

"Wow, sucks for your team. So how good are you at controlling the wolf? Do you still need to be locked up on the full moon?" I asked. Remus stopped in the middle of a hallway and looked at me before walking again.

"Of course I do. I wouldn't want to injure someone," he said, mystified. "I've heard of some wolves who, with the use of Wolfsbane potion, can calm their wolves during the full moon, but not control it. The potion merely helps me control my baser instincts, but not totally."

"I should give you my friend Oz's cell number or address or whatever it is you wizards use. He can control his wolf, even prevent changing during the full moon," I said.

Lupin stopped again. "That's impossible."

"Uh, no it isn't. It's just a matter of control. For a long time, Oz could control the change, keep from changing unless he was emotionally upset. Now he can keep from turning, but he usually does anyways. I t helps him keep his balance to give into his wolfier aspects. And he can control himself when he changes, so it's like having a dog that plays baseball instead of fetch. Or something."

"Remarkable," Lupin whispered. He led us down the hall to a painting of a manticore. "The password is 'Norwegian Ridgeback.' I'll see you tomorrow in class. Or should I stop by in the morning and lead you to the dining hall?"

Spike shook his head. "Nah, we'll meet you down there, then you can show us to the classroom."

"Alright. Thank you for agreeing to speak with my classes tomorrow. It will be a tremendous opportunity. Good night," Lupin said, walking away. He walked through a patch of moonlight and paused. b"Also, we charmed the windows and doorways. Any sunlight entering the building passes through a necro-tempering spell, rendering it harmless to vampires."

"Good to know, night." Spike called. I waved as the werewolf walked down the hall. Spike and I turned to face each other. Spike raised an eyebrow and imperceptibly nodded his head toward the right where our invisible watchers stood. I grinned.

"Let's go inside." We said the password and the manticore snarled before the portrait swung open. We walked inside and I suppressed a grin as muffled footsteps hurried in after us and went into a corner. The room wasn't too big, but it had a nice bed, a couple chairs, and fireplace. Spike stood near the doorway. I turned to face him, smiling.

"Sire, how long has it been since you've fucked me?" I asked, an innocent smile playing at my lips. Three quick, small gasps sounded from the corner. Their hearts started beating faster. Spike raised an eyebrow and suppressed a smile.

"'Bout seven hours. Far too long if you ask me," he murmured. I sauntered closer to him, rolling my hips. Leering, Spike reached out and grabbed the belt loops of my jeans and pulled me closer. Our lips met in a fierce kiss, our tongues sliding into each other's mouths. We practically devoured each other, our tongues visible. With a frustrated whimper, I pushed off Spike's jacket, then gripped the hem of his shirt and pulled it off. I shivered as I saw his body and good God what body it is. Sooo pretty. I love it. And apparently so did one of our ivisi-spies. Spike stepped away and pulled off my jacket and shirts, tossing them on the ground. Pressing against me again, Spike kissed me passionately, his tongue driving into my mouth and mimicking the thrusts of his hips against mine.

Pushing me to the floor, he kept pressing against me until my back was resting on our pile of clothes . . . right in front of the door. (God my Sire is eeeevil, like Dr. Evil evil, and I love him for it.) He started kissing me again, and I started losing my focus on our guests. Instead, I was focused on his fingers on my skin, his tongue, the way his hard cock rubbed against mine though the layers of our clothes. Spike reached down and began tugging on my belt and I suddenly remembered the others, mostly because one of them, a girl, smelled like she was two inches from an orgasm, while the heartbeats of the other two were reaching heart attack stage. I couldn't help it. I started laughing. Spike pulled away and looked down at me, his eyebrow raised before he started laughing as well. We were practically rolling on the ground with laughter. Finally, Spike rushed forward and grabbed at the three, pulling away a shimmering piece of cloth to reveal the black-haired boy with glasses and his two friends, bushy hair and red head. Their eyes widened as they quickly pulled out their wands.

I sat up on the floor, my laughs slowing. "You guys almost had a heart attack," I laughed.

"You knew we were there?" the girl said, blushing furiously.

"Sorry luv, be we knew you were the second you started following us," Spike said, reaching into his jacket and pulling out his cigarettes. The red head's face started to darken.

"They why did you do all . . . that?" he yelled, his hand waving in our general direction. Spike tapped out one cigarette and lit it before answering.

"Why shouldn't we, privacy of our own room and all that," Spike smirked, sitting on the ground behind me. He leaned against the wall and pulled me back against his chest. "What are your names?" he asked.

"I'm Hermione Granger, and this is Harry Potter and Ronald Weasley," she offered, gesturing at her friends in turn while blushing.

"Oh, are you related to those guys that own the joke shop in Diagon Alley?" I asked, excited. Ron rolled his eyes.

"Yeah, they're my brothers."

"That's great! Their stuff is the reason we're on the run . . . sort of," I said.

"Really? I would have thought it was because you're vampires or something," Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Nah, it's more due to us pulling various pranks on a house full of Slayers." I snickered as I remembered Canary Angel. (Dude, that would be a hilarious comic, a vampire who turns into a canary to fight crime. Good times. Must email Andrew with ideas.)

"I thought there was only one Slayer," Hermione replied, as if on automatic.

"Yeah, that's this whole thing involving armies of caveman vampires and CPR-," I started.

"For fuck’s sake, we'll be speaking in your classes tomorrow, he can explain it in the morning! Now bugger off so I can bugger the hell of my boy here," Spike yelled. "That show we put on for you got me all ready to go."

Ron and Harry turned a pale green while Hermione's pheromones spiked. Naughty girl. Hurriedly, the three huddled under the cloth again and moved to the door. As soon as they left, I heard my favorite sound in the world: horny Spike!

"Xander," he purred. I shivered. He reached over and put his cigarette out on the stone floor, then leaned forward and pressed his lips to the back of my neck. With his hands on my hips, he urged me up onto my knees. Instead of the urgent sex I was expecting (hoping) for, Spike started trailing little kisses down my spine. You know, Spike may be very impatient when it comes to evil schemes, but not when it comes to sex. But this was kind of new. Before, it had all been about mind-blowing, shagging-like-bunnies sex. Sometimes he would draw things out just to torture me, but this was different. It was . . . tender, I guess. And just thinking that made breath catch in my chest, and made my stomach clench. His fingers just skimmed over my sides, tracing features that he'd seen often enough. His kisses wandered away from my spine, trailing up to my shoulders, then down around the small of my back. His hands moved to the front of my pants, quickly unbuttoning them. He shoved them partway down my thighs and began to pull on my cock.

"Spike," I whispered. I don't know how he does it, but in two minutes he can take away any higher brain functions I may have. Spike moved up onto his knees behind me and pressed his chest against my back. He buried his face in my neck, nipping at the flesh where neck meets shoulder. One of his hands moved up to my chest and began tugging and pinching my nipples. The other hand moved from my cock to my balls, rolling them gently. I whimpered and began wriggling against him, impatient.

"Now now, pet. You behave. Sire wants to play," he whispered. My response was another gasp, and something along the lines of "mmmeh." Using his nose, he nudged my chin back until my head rested on his shoulder. He moved his head up to nip at my lips, then started kissing me again. His hands moved to my hips, holding me in place as he ground his denim-clad cock against my ass. Spike broke the kiss and moved away from me, sitting on the ground behind me again. He moved his hands to my ass and began massaging me, his finger sliding between my cheeks and thumping against the plug lodged inside me. As I began to pant, he chuckled again.

"Take your kit off and get on the bad, Xander." I moved as fast as I could, standing and pulling off my shoes before pushing and kicking my way out of my jeans. I turned around and looked at him as I walked backwards to the bed. Spike had stood as well, but was just standing there, watching me with a mixture of amusement and . . . something. Once I was laying on the bed, I watched him as he slowly stripped, baring his body. He moved forward, stalking toward me. The firelight danced across his skin, and I just kind of stood there, mesmerized by how fucking beautiful he is. Being a vampire was still pretty new to me; sometimes I forgot that I'm a hunter now, not dinner. But even when I do remember, he can make me feel like prey again, especially with the "mmm . . . Xander" look he was shooting me.

When he reached the bed, he started crawling toward me. (And that makes want to thank whoever for inventing crawling 'cause that was really hot.) Stopping before he reached me, he grabbed my ankles and pulled me until my knees were resting on top of his thighs. Then I had another wiggy moment as he simply stared at me while his hands caressed my legs.

"What?" I asked, wriggling nervously. Instead of answering me, he smiled and leaned forward to kiss me. His mouth moved against mine, his body stretching out to lie on top of mine. Once I'd been snogged senseless again, he moved to my side.

"On your side, luv," he growled. I turned onto my side, shivering as he softly ran his hand down my side, then across my ass. He moved his hand between my legs, the up between my cheeks. He began to twist the plug around, a movement that felt good but was no where near enough.

"Please let me touch you," I whimpered (okay, I know whimpers aren't manly, but you try being all manly when Spike is playing your ass!). I love to touch him. I love to see him lose control because of how I'm touching and biting him. I love knowing that I'm good enough to make him feel good. But Spike didn't answer me, only pulled my plug out and slid two fingers inside of me. His fingers zeroed in on my prostate and started to caress it gently. My fangs dropped as I panted, my hands tangling in the blankets. "Please Spike, please. Need you," I groaned.

Spike added a third finger and began to rub my prostate even harder. "Please, I can't . . . I can't hold on," I wailed. I was desperate; somehow getting fucked by Spike had become an addiction. He removed his fingers and before I could mourn their loss, he was pushing inside of me. He filled me, a feeling I can't fully describe. Maybe it's because he's my Sire, or maybe it's because I'm in love with him, but when he's inside me, I feel complete, whole. Then he started moving; quick, shallow thrusts that hit my prostate and drove me crazy. I can't remember what I was saying, only that an unconscious stream of babbling and begging was coming out of my mouth.

He moved one of his legs between mine and place his foot flat on the bed. Anchored, he began to pound into me. One of his hands moved up and untangled one of my hands from the bedding. He laced his fingers with mine, holding my hand tight. His other hand sought my hand, then moved our joined hands to my cock, pulling on it. My mouth fell open and my body tensed, and with one more thrust, I came. I arched my throat to the side, offering all of myself to him. Spike kept pounding into me, his mouth sucking on my throat. Suddenly, he was coming, but he hadn't bitten me. As I slowly stopped breathing, he pulled away from me. Standing, he pulled the blankets from beneath me, then crawled into the bed beside me and covered us. He hadn't bitten me, accepted my offer. It made my eyes prickle with tears. But between the driving and sex, I was exhausted. Spike spooned against my back, his arm around my waist.

At this point, I think he'd thought I'd fallen asleep. But I wasn't. As his fingers stroked my skin, I heard him whisper "I love you, pet."

That woke me up. I rolled over and faced him. He was pretty shocked, which a part of me cheered for because I never seem to surprise him anymore. Another part of me was kind of freaked out. Since he'd turned me, he'd been really honest with me. Aside from the occasional "I don't want to talk about it," he told me everything. And at that moment, he was completely closed off, his face guarded. I couldn't understand it, because our relationship was pretty well cemented so far. He Sire, me Childe, and no matter what, I was bound to him, loyal. I figured that maybe a part of him was still hurt from Dru's rejection, even though he rejected her last. And it was at that exact second that I figured it out: sure he'd turned me, but I could still leave him. That's why he was being so careful, why he didn't want me know he loved me. He was afraid that if he said the wrong thing, I'd leave him too. That's why his eyes were so guarded. He thought that I only cared for him in that Sire/Childe way, and that someday I'd move on. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath as I moved on top of him and straddled his waist. I reached down and laced our fingers together.

"Do you love me just 'cause I'm your Childe?" I asked. At that moment I was so glad that I didn't have to breathe, or else I would have held it. I looked into his eyes and they were frozen, cold like when he'd mocked my back in Sunnydale. I squeezed my eyes shut as my heart clenched in my chest. I took a deep breath and started to speak, but was unable to open my eyes and look at him.

"It's all mixed up in my head, Spike. It's not an easy thing for me to sort out, because I didn't really see you again until you turned me. Maybe after those years apart, I would have liked you on my own. But anything I've started feeling for you is tied up in our bond. A part of me looks up to you. You’re my universe. And that part adores you, worships you. But then there's the Xandery bits of me, the human parts, that remember everything that happened in Sunnydale." I felt the tension in his limbs return, so I kept speaking. "I remember you trying to kill me, I remember you chasing after Buffy, I remember you taking care of Dawnie and bitching about Angel. My demon loves you, my Sire, just because you are my Sire. But me, plain old Xander Harris, loves you because of all the stuff that makes you Spike. I love you, Spike," I whispered. Spike was frozen for a split second that nearly killed me. Then he sat up and cupped my face, forcing me to look at him.

"How do you know?" he asked. His eyes were dark, worried.

I grinned at him even though I felt like throwihg up. And although I'll deny it to his face, I was kind of bashful. "Because my demon isn't the one getting excited about pulling pranks on Angel and Buffy, or the one that gets all wibbly in the tummy when you bring me Twinkies and blood when I wake up. And it probably doesn't care so much about whether you agree with me about my theories on George Lucas. You like all the parts of me, and I like all the parts of you, including the parts that my demon doesn't. Sort of like when I fell in love with Anya. I knew it happening because no matter how much the things she did annoyed the others, I loved them. And no matter how much some of the things you do bother my demon, I still love those parts of you. I love all of you."

Spike raised his eyebrow. "Really? What doesn't your demon love about me?" I closed my eyes and forced myself to calm down. I didn't need him to ask me question, I needed him to tell me how he felt.

"Same stuff it hates about me. That I'm friends with Buffy and the Slayers and won't drink human blood unless it's bagged." Spike dragged his thumb over my lips.

"Open your eyes, Xan." I looked at him. He smiled at me before he wrapped his arms around me and pressed his forehead against mine.

"I love you, Xander. I love all the parts that amused me back in Sunnyhell, including the mouthy, sarcastic parts. I love the way you think of everyone else first, and I love the parts of you that are still innocent." The knot in my chest loosened, and even though I was tired, I felt like I could take on a gaggle of smelly fledges.

"And you love my naughty parts too," I snickered.

"Yes, I love your naughty parts, too," he smiled. He moved his head and pressed his lips to mine in a quick kiss.

Spike lay down again, pulling me with him. Reaching down with one hand, he pulled up the blankets and covered us. As the fire died out and cast us into darkness, I started falling asleep again. Spike ran his hands up and down my back, just touching me.

"I love you, Xander."

"I love you, too," I answered before I fell asleep.

God, I'm so going to enjoy boiking him for all of eternity.
******
Next- Xander and Spike teach Defense Against the Dark Arts