Previous Chapter

Tyrnan watched Falen carefully out of the corner of his eye. He’d been watching the boy surreptitiously all week, looking for signs of attraction between Kirst and Falen. There was definitely something on the boy’s side but it was muted, barely even there. If Kirst was attracted to the boy, he hid it well and Tyrnan could tell Falen was getting discouraged. Well, if Kirst didn’t want to accept the boy’s feelings that meant the boy was still available in Tyrnan’s mind.

Tyrnan grinned into his ale as a plan formed in his mind. Kirst was across the room, engrossed in conversation with a couple of the other village warriors. Ossan sat next to Falen, drinking his ale quietly while the boy seemed on the verge of falling asleep. Since the first night Tyrnan had taken him out to the pub, Falen refused to touch anything heavier than fruit juice when they were there.

“Let Kirst know I walked Falen home,” Tyrnan told Ossan quietly before he gently coaxed the half-asleep faradhim out of his chair, slipping an arm around the boy’s waist as he did so. “Come on Falen. You look like you could use some sleep. Let’s get you home, okay?”

A tired nod was his only response and he smiled as he watched Kirst as they left. The warrior was still focused on his conversation so he didn’t even notice them leave. In his head, Tyrnan slowly started counting as he walked Falen home, moving a bit more quickly than he would have otherwise. Kirst would notice Falen was gone shortly, which gave Tyrnan a very limited amount of time to make his move.

“What do you think of Kirst, Falen?”

The boy looked up, blinking slightly as he visibly tried to focus his thoughts.

“He’s nice,” Falen answered quietly.

“And what do you think of me?” Tyrnan continued.

Falen looked at him curiously, seeming a bit more awake. “You’re nice.”

They reached Kirst’s house and Tyrnan followed the boy inside, shutting the door firmly behind him. Stepping forward quickly, he pulled Falen into his arms and kissed him soundly, trying to pour everything he felt into the kiss. There was protection and the promise of safety, of happiness and freedom from fear. There was a trace of guilt and a faint hint of love lingering on the end.

Falen was stiff in his arms and when Tyrnan finally pulled away he felt his stomach turn to lead at the look of pity and regret that tinged Falen’s face. His emotions must have shown on his face because Falen touched his cheek softly.

“I’m sorry, Tyrnan,” Falen whispered quietly.

With a sigh Tyrnan pulled away, putting distance between them. “You love him.” It wasn’t a question. At least he knew his place now.

Slowly Falen nodded. “I’m in love with Kirst. I’m sorry.”

Tyrnan shook his head. “It’s not your fault.” It was no one’s fault, he told himself, even though there was an angry, bitter part of his mind that raged at him that this was all Kirst’s fault. But he couldn’t hate his friend because of the faradhim‘s affections. Slowly Tyrnan backed away, avoiding meeting Falen’s gaze. He didn’t hate Kirst, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t hurt.

Tyrnan walked out of the house without looking back.

*****

Kirst glanced over once towards the bar where Falen was sitting, a habit he’d formed whenever they went anywhere, his eyes automatically finding the boy wherever he was in a crowd. Only this time, Falen wasn’t where he was supposed to be. A frown crossed his face and he excused himself quickly, weaving through the crowded room until he stopped next to Ossan.

“Where’s Falen?”

“Tyrnan walked him home.” Kirst’s frown suddenly grew darker. Without a word to his friend, he stormed out of the bar, intent on catching up with the pair as quickly as he could. He didn’t trust Tyrnan alone with Falen. The hunter had a reputation for breaking hearts and he didn’t want Falen to be another in the line of Tyrnan’s conquests. A part of his mind laughed at him. You want Falen for yourself, it told him. He ignored it.

There was no sign of them as he marched down the street, at least not until he reached his house and saw Tyrnan slip inside after Falen. Through the window he saw Tyrnan kiss Falen and Kirst felt his blood boil, rage tinting the corners of his vision a bright red. He stormed towards the door, intent on bursting in there and pulling Tyrnan off the boy. But then Tyrnan pulled away and Falen caressed the hunter’s cheek with such tenderness. Kirst stopped suddenly, all his anger draining away as he watched Falen speak softly to Tyrnan.

He loves Tyrnan, Kirst realized, and it felt like the ground had fallen away from his feet. Turning quickly, he stormed away before the pair could see him. He needed a drink, or several. Anything that would take away the burning tightness in his chest was more than welcome.

*****

Falen sat quietly in the dimly lit room, waiting patiently for Kirst to return. The evening drew on and he fought off his tiredness as he waited. He hadn’t expected Kirst to stay so late, but then he’d never left without the warrior before. Even so he’d expected Kirst to be home shortly after he left. The warrior didn’t seem to like Falen out of his sight and he guessed that was just lingering distrust on the warrior’s part. Kirst still probably suspected there was a trick to Falen’s presence, no matter how Falen acted.

The door opened suddenly and Kirst stumbled into the room. Falen’s eyes widened as he took in the warrior’s state. He’d never seem Kirst this drunk, or drunk at all he realized. Quickly he stood, rushing over to the warrior’s side to offer his assistance.

“Don’t touch me,” Kirst snarled angrily.

Falen drew his hands back as if burned and stared at Kirst with confusion. The man glared at him, the look so filled with hatred that it made Falen’s stomach knot. “Kirst,” he started, but the warrior cut him off.

“Get out.”

With wide eyes, Falen stared at Kirst in surprise, not comprehending what Kirst had just said. “What?”

“I said get out.” Kirst took one step forward, his face red with anger. Falen didn’t move. “I don’t want you in my house, you little whore.”

The words stung, biting deep into Falen’s emotions and he almost panicked, thinking Kirst had somehow found out about Falen’s past but he knew that was impossible. He was just drunk, Falen told himself. Kirst didn’t mean it.

“Kirst…” He tried hesitantly, raising a hand carefully to touch the warrior’s arm.

With a quick lunge, Kirst grabbed Falen’s arm and he cried out in pain as the warrior’s grip tightened. He could feel bones press together as he was pulled off his feet. “I don’t want to hear another word from you, you little slut. You think you can sleep around in my home and I wouldn’t notice, huh? Well you guessed wrong. I saw you with Tyrnan.”

Then Kirst threw him and Falen hit the floor on the other side of the room with wide eyes. He was shaking, he realized as he carefully picked himself off the floor. Opening his mouth, he tried to explain, to say that it had been nothing, that he loved Kirst not Tyrnan, but one look at the fury on Kirst’s face made his instincts take over. He did the only thing he could think of in a situation like this. He ran.

Kirst shouted something after him but Falen couldn’t make out the words. He didn’t think he wanted to make out the words. Through the dark cobbled streets he ran with tears streaming unchecked down his face. He ran until he hit something soft and yielding. The collision knocked him back, off his feet and he started to mumble an apology until he looked up into a face that had haunted his nightmares for the past three years.

The man grinned back at him, a wide smile splitting his face and making Falen’s blood run cold. “Fancy running into you here.” An arm reached forward but Falen was already moving, running as fast as he could in the opposite direction, his fight with Kirst forgotten in the sheer need to run, to get away. Panic filled his mind, narrowing his vision until he only saw the clear path in front of him as he ran out of the village. He heard someone shout at him and he ran faster. He had to get away, had to run. He couldn’t let the man catch him but if that one man was here, maybe there were others and that thought nearly broke his mind as cold panic filled his every vein.

Trees whipped around him. He’d entered the forest at some point and the branches left stinging lashes against his skin as he ran, but he didn’t care. It was nothing compared to the pain he’d face when they found him.

Then suddenly there was no more ground to run on and he felt his ankle twist painfully as it caught on the overhang before he fell, pitching forward into darkness. Soft wetness caught him as he hit the ground, squeezing around him and he pushed forward, trying to get out of the seeping ground. Something moved beneath him and he felt his eyes widen in panic a fraction of a second before sharp, biting pain hit his leg. He screamed, struggling as he felt something, or several somethings, writhe around him, grasping, holding him in the sinking mud. Pain blossomed along his side as he felt the vipers attack, biting sharply into his skin as he struggled to get free. Chilling warmth spread from each point of pain, dulling his movements, making his limbs heavy and he felt his body still as it gave up. Darkness caught him as he sank into the ground.

*****

Tyrnan didn’t go back to the pub. There would be people there and then he’d have to act happy or they’d ask questions. He didn’t want to pretend and he didn’t want to explain, either. He didn’t go home. Home was cold and lonely. He’d go there, stare at the wooden walls, and think about what he was missing. He didn’t need that, not right now. So instead he headed to the outskirts of the village. It was late, almost halfway to morning and few people were out of their beds, let alone out of their houses.

He perched on one of the low walls at the end of the village, the same wall where he’d waited for Kirst a little over a week ago during the full moon. It was another clear night, just like the night of the full moon when he’d waited until morning for his friend to return from battle. He did that every time Kirst went to fight one of the Chosen battles. He’d be here when Kirst left and here when Kirst came back, keeping his vigil while Kirst fought. The waiting made it seem less horrific, less wrong that the Goddess would send Her children to fight and kill each other instead of just ending the conflict with a simple word.

But then maybe the Goddess wasn’t watching them anymore, and that thought brought a chill to the night air. They really were Her children. For as long as Tyrnan could remember the Goddess had been among them, upholding her justice and ensuring the truth. If Falen’s words were true then the Goddess was gone, abandoning her children to their dark hearts. Maybe it was time for Her children to grow up.

Tyrnan’s head shot up as a blur of white flashed past him. He jumped off the wall in concern, staring after the running figure.

“Falen?” He called but the boy only seemed to run faster.

With a curse Tyrnan took off after the boy, speeding up as he noticed the boy heading straight for the forest. That was not good. There were all sorts of dangers in the forest and they only got worse at night. There were viper pits and bogs, coyotes and wild cats. He followed Falen through the trees, trying his best to keep up with the boy but it was dark in the trees. He thought he’d lost Falen for a moment and he stopped, listening for the sound of the boy’s footsteps but he heard only the silence of the forest.

A scream rang through the trees, filling his veins with ice and Tyrnan raced down the tree-lined slope in front of him. The faint moonlight shone through a clearing in the canopy above, illuminating the mud pit at the bottom of the short cliff. White cloth glinted in the moonlight and Tyrnan’s heart almost stopped as he watched the boy sink lower into the mud. He took the first step on instinct, freezing when he saw something move past his foot.

Vipers. There were vipers in the mud pit. Carefully Tyrnan stepped forward, putting all his years of experience as a hunter into his movements. The snakes left him alone long enough for Tyrnan to reach the boy, just seconds before his head was about to sink under the mud. With the same care, Tyrnan slowly raised Falen out of the mud, forcing his panic to the back of his mind as he focused on calm stillness. Mud stuck to his clothing as he pulled the boy up but he didn’t care. He had Falen entirely in his arms when something moved in the boy’s dress and he froze.

A black head peaked out of the back of Falen’s dress, tongue flicking out swiftly to taste the air. Tyrnan didn’t move, didn’t breath and the snake ignored him, sliding out of Falen’s dress and over Tyrnan’s shoulder. He held perfectly still as the snake slid down his back, thankfully outside of his clothes, to disappear into the mud. He waited five more breaths before he dared turn and start slowly back to the shore. Falen was still in his arms though he was breathing still in shallow gasps that had Tyrnan more that a little worried. He felt firm ground beneath his foot and he ran, ignoring the snakes that snapped after him.

Tyrnan knew his way through the trees and he headed straight for Priest Beryn’s temple. Blood ran down the boy’s cheek, glistening in the moonlight as they cleared the last of the trees, and he ran as fast as he could as he saw the series of tiny little holes dotting Falen’s skin. Whatever damage he did in jostling the boy wouldn’t matter if he didn’t get to the priest fast enough. He knew those snakes. Even one bite could be deadly if not treated fast enough but that many bites… Shaking his head Tyrnan forced himself to not think about it. Negative thoughts wouldn’t help his friend.

The streets of the village were a blur around him. The only thing he recognized was the temple, and he welcomed the sight with a tiny burst of relief. He ran through the open gate, not slowing until he reached the front door and then he put all his momentum into one strong kick that sent the door flying open. A shout rang out through the temple and then Beryn was running in as Tyrnan set Falen on the table in the center of the priest’s workshop.

“What happened?”

Tyrnan was already pulling off the boy’s muddy clothes as Beryn moved around the room, lighting each of the lanterns that hung from the ceiling. “Black wraith vipers. Several of them.”

The priest froze for a second, staring at the livid bites on the boy’s pale skin. “Dear Goddess,” Beryn breathed and then suddenly he was a flurry of action, pulling jars down from the shelves with all the speed of a well-trained warrior. “How long?”

“Not too long. Less than a quarter of an hour.”

“Good.” Beryn poured water into a large bowl, adding a pouch of pink crystals before he dunked a cloth in and stirred. Carrying the bowl over to the still boy he started wiping off each of the cuts. Tyrnan hung back, waiting for the doctor to tell him what needed done.

“Go get some of the warriors. And my apprentices. He’ll be reaching the fever stage soon and I’ll need someone to hold him down while I lance the bites.”

With a quick nod, Tyrnan was out the door. He knew who he needed to get first and less than a minute later he was pounding on Kirst’s door. Bleary eyes greeted him as Kirst opened the door. As soon as he saw Tyrnan, Kirst’s gaze sharpened and he glared at Tyrnan, hatred blazing in his eyes.

“Get out of my sight,” Kirst snapped as he slammed the door.

Tyrnan suddenly had a very good idea what Falen was doing running out of the village. Anger burned through him and he pounded on Kirst’s door loudly, half-intent on breaking the thing down if Kirst didn’t open up.

“What…”

Kirst’s words were cut off as Tyrnan slammed his fist into the warrior’s face. By the Goddess that felt good. Anger crossed Kirst’s face but it was nothing compared to the fire in Tyrnan’s veins.

“Falen’s dying.” Tyrnan spoke quietly, his voice a thin line of rage. His eyes narrowed as he glared at his friend, fire dying a little as Kirst had the good sense to look shocked. “I don’t care what you think happened between me and him,” Tyrnan bit out. “If you don’t get your ass to the temple in the next five minutes there won’t be a Sakano Chosen anymore.” He held Kirst gaze for a moment, promise burning in his eyes.

“I saw you kiss Falen.” Kirst said quietly as he stepped towards the door, his eyes on Tyrnan.

The hunter’s tolerance was slowly growing thin. “Good for you.” He snarled. “Because do you know what he said?” Tyrnan took a step forward until he was less than a breath away from Kirst. The difference in their heights didn’t matter as he glared up at the taller man, fury filling him to the point where he could no longer contain it all and he trembled in rage. “He’s in love with you, even if you are a bastard that sent him out into the night, alone and crying so that he ran right into a viper pit.” Grabbing a handful of the warrior’s shirt, he turned them until Kirst’s back was to the door. They didn’t have time for this foolishness. “Now go.” He shoved once, hard, and then slammed the door behind them.

Without looking back he ran off to find Ossan and the temple acolytes.

*****

Falen’s dying.

The words echoed through his mind, replaying over and over as he raced through the village streets, heading towards Beryn’s temple with speed borne of desperation. He wasn’t sure what he expected to see when he walked into Beryn’s workroom, but it certainly wasn’t the boy lying naked on the table, only barely covered with a thin sheet over his waist. Sweat gleaned off pale skin now flushed red and the boy fidgeted restlessly in his sleep.

“Ah, good, Kirst. Hold his mouth open for me.” Dazedly Kirst took Falen’s head gently into his hands. The boy barely resisted him as he tipped open Falen’s mouth and held it there as Beryn slowly trickled a foul smelling green liquid down Falen’s throat.

“What happened?” Kirst asked quietly.

“He fell into a pit of black wraith vipers.” The words caused Kirst to flinch and he felt guilt press down on him so strongly he wondered why he didn’t fall over.

“Will he live?”

Beryn looked over at him but Kirst avoided the priest’s gaze, staring instead at the faradhim‘s face as he twisted restlessly on the table. A low murmur fell from the boy’s lips, too muffled to be intelligible.

“That depends on Falen and how bad the bites are. Most seem to be only partial bites so we can hope the poison isn’t too strong in his blood.”

A sudden cry split the air and they turned back to the table as Falen’s eyes popped open, staring unseeing at the ceiling just as Tyrnan, Ossan, and Beryn’s two apprentices walked in.

“No, please don’t.” Falen whispered hoarsely as he twisted on the table.

“Hold him down,” Beryn commanded sharply.

Exchanging a hesitant look the three warriors circled the table, placing light restraining hands on Falen. The boy screamed loudly as soon as they touched him, fighting their grasps. “No!” Falen screamed. “Please! No! Dyne, I’m sorry. Please don’t. Please, no. Please.”

Kirst’s eyes narrowed at the name Falen had called out. He paid attention to every word Falen screamed, tears falling from the boy’s vacant eyes as he fought their grasp. Suddenly he hoped he had a chance to meet Falen’s chief. He had a few things he wanted to ask the man about, and he had a feeling he would not like the answers.

*****

Falen screamed as he stared up at the figures hovering over him. Ropes dug into his wrists, drawing blood as he tried futilely to pull free of his bonds. Hands held him down, hands all around him as he screamed in pain. He begged at them to let him go, familiar faces all of them but his pleas were met only with dark chuckles and further violence.

“Please, Dyne. Don’t do this.” He stared up at the face of his former lover but it was too dark. Tears filled his vision and all he could see was the glint of white teeth as his lover smiled cruelly. “Please, Dyne. I’m sorry. Please. No.”

Sharp pain stabbed through him and he screamed. He fought the hands that held him, fought as hard as he could but they wouldn’t let go. Dimly he heard voices, strange voices saying things that made no sense. Suddenly his head was pulled back and that was wrong because no one had grabbed his head. His mouth was held open and some strange liquid crawled down his throat, chasing away the burning spiders that lived in his skin. They were his pain, he realized. There were spiders crawling in his veins, pouring in from wounds all over his body and the liquid was chasing them away. He opened his mouth wider, drinking greedily as the liquid passed his lips.

Then the liquid was gone and the hands were back but he had no energy left to struggle, he could only watch dazedly as faces shifted above him until the darkness came down to take him away.

*****

Kirst relaxed slightly as Falen finally stilled, his eyes falling shut as exhaustion overtook the poor boy. Beryn waved the men away and he carefully bathed the boy’s skin in the strange pink liquid. Little patches of cloth were soaked in the liquid and then placed over each bite before being wrapped in white bandages.

“He should be alright from here.” Beryn said quietly as he worked. “Take him home and keep him in bed for at least a week. Feed him broth three times a day, water at least five times a day until he wakes from the fever. It might take a few days before he’s fully rational again so make sure he’s somewhere comfortable and have someone nearby at all times.”

Kirst nodded along with Beryn’s instructions, memorizing every word.

“Let me know as soon as he wakes so I can check on his ankle again. He seems to have sprained it pretty bad, so he’ll have to stay off of it for a while.” Beryn tied off the last of the bandages and stretched the blanket over Falen’s waist until it covered the boy from collar to knee. “When he is awake again make sure he doesn’t do anything strenuous, not even housework. He’s to rest until I say otherwise. Is that understood?” The priest’s eyes focused on Kirst and he nodded solemnly. He’d already made one mistake, he wasn’t about to make another.

“Good.” Rolling the boy in the cloth, he handed Falen over to Kirst. “I’ll stop by in the afternoon to see how he’s doing.”

With a nod Kirst carried the faradhim out of the room. The sun had risen slightly while they’d been in the temple, casting a rosy hue over the surrounding buildings. Tyrnan and Ossan followed him silently to his house. Tyrnan held the door open for him as he maneuvered through the door, carefully balancing his precious load. The boy stirred as Kirst approached the small bedroom that he’d initially designated for the boy’s use, but as soon as he stepped into the room the boy screamed, clutching tightly to Kirst’s chest. Hastily Kirst backed out. Falen calmed almost instantly when they reached the main room, his eyes open but unseeing.

“What in the name of the Goddess did you do?” Tyrnan asked accusingly.

“I didn’t do anything,” Kirst replied quietly. He glanced once between the tiny room and the boy in his arms before he slowly tried to walk into the room again. Falen reacted before he even hit the threshold, clawing at Kirst’s shirt in panic and trying to move away. He backed away again and the boy stilled.

“Open the other door,” Kirst commanded.

Tyrnan’s eyes narrowed and he stared at Kirst with accusation in his eyes. “That’s your bedroom.”

“Yes, it is.” Kirst snapped before he forced himself to control his temper. “He won’t sleep in that room so that leaves only one other option.”

Ossan opened the door before Tyrnan could and Kirst settled Falen gently against the sheets of the bed.

“Didn’t he sleep in there before?” Tyrnan asked.

“No.” Kirst shook his head as he stared down at the sleeping boy. “He always slept out in the main room no matter what I said. He told me he was uncomfortable sleeping in a bed and I didn’t think much of it.” Tearing his eyes away he turned to face the two warriors. “But the night he was drunk he fell asleep in my bed without a problem.” Tyrnan’s eyebrows shot up but Kirst ignored him. He didn’t owe Tyrnan an explanation. “I think he’s afraid of small spaces.”

“What do you think happened?” Ossan asked quietly.

Kirst shook his head. Ossan had heard the same things he had while the boy fought the fever dreams. “I don’t know, but I intend to find out.”

“Whoever did that will pay.” Tyrnan vowed quietly.

Kirst nodded his assent. He would see to it that he personally punished any man who had hurt his faradhim.

---

 

This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

Previous Chapter

Kirst blinked sleepily as he stepped out of his room. He stared for a moment at the cleanliness of the rest of the house, confused before his foggy brain remembered the events of the previous day. Right, Falen had cleaned for him. Kirst turned to stare at the pile of blankets in front of the fireplace. Those hadn’t been there last night. Walking over slowly, he stared in surprise as blonde hair peeked out from under the blankets.

As Kirst stopped beside the blankets, Falen suddenly rolled onto his back. The blankets fell away, leaving Falen’s legs exposed. Kirst’s eyes were drawn the pale flesh and his curiosity was replaced with wonder as he stared at the beautiful picture Falen made. Slowly Falen’s eyes blinked open, pale blue orbs looking up at him dazedly for a moment before Falen suddenly bolted upright in panic.

Kirst dropped to one knee beside Falen. “It’s alright,” he said gently, touching the faradhim‘s shoulder without thinking. “I didn’t mean to scare you.”

Falen blushed slightly and adjusted his skirt. “It’s okay.”

“Why aren’t you sleeping in the bed?”

“I’m too used to sleeping on the ground,” Falen answered easily though he didn’t meet Kirst’s eyes as he spoke. “The bed just didn’t feel comfortable.” He turned worried eyes on Kirst. “That’s alright, isn’t it? That I sleep out here?”

“Yeah, it’s fine.” Kirst nodded quickly. “As long as you’re comfortable.”

“I am.” The boy smiled brightly and stood. “Do you want me to make breakfast?”

Straightening, Kirst nodded. “If you’d like. You don’t have to.”

“I want to.” Falen answered quickly. “I got some eggs when I was out yesterday. What do you think about….”

Kirst let the boy’s words wash over him and he found himself smiling as he nodded absently. He could see himself getting used to having the faradhim with him everyday and the idea scared him a little. Eventually the boy would want to go back to his village. That was where he belonged after all. He was Miyagi, used to the sun and the open fields of the grassland. There was nothing that Kirst could offer him to stay here that compared to that freedom.

A knock on the door distracted him and Falen turned away from the frying pan he’d set on a wire framework over the fire to glance at the door, indecision clear on the boy’s face as he tried to decide between cooking and answering the door. Standing quickly, Kirst went to open the door before Falen could move.

“Morning.” Kirst’s friend Ossan nodded slightly as he walked into the house. He paused just inside the door, glancing around appreciatively. “Impressive.”

“It wasn’t that bad before,” Kirst muttered.

Ossan merely shrugged and nodded silently to Falen. Emotionless brown eyes turned to regard Kirst. “The elders want you and the faradhim to speak to them today. They’ve sent out riders to the other villagers to call in the full Council.”

Kirst nodded in acquiescence. He’d figured the elders would want to speak to the boy sooner or later. They’d most likely called Priest Beryn in as well.

“Do we have to leave now?” Falen looked up nervously, his gaze shifting between them and the frying pan.

“No,” Kirst shook his head quickly. “They won’t be expecting us until much later so we have time to eat.”

A smile lit up Falen’s face and he relaxed visibly. “I made extra.”

An echoing smile crossed Kirst’s face at the blatant suggestion in Falen’s words. “Would you like to join us for breakfast, Ossan?”

The other warrior looked once between Kirst and Falen before nodding once. “Sure.”

With a happy smile, Falen set three plates down on the table, taking a seat across from Kirst.

Ossan nodded once to the faradhim and extended his hand. “Ossan Jos.”

“Falen DeMorgan.” Falen beamed as he answered. Kirst guessed this happy mood was more Falen’s usual state. The smiles that played across the boy’s face seemed to spring up naturally, and Kirst had to admit that they were fairly endearing. Already he felt himself relaxing around the boy’s easy smile.

“You’ve caused quite a stir,” Ossan remarked offhandedly as he ate. “It’s been a while since there’s been a faradhim in the village.”

Falen’s smile dipped for a fraction of a second. “I was the only faradhim in my village as well.” The boy’s expression seemed slightly forced and Kirst refrained from commenting on what he expected was the village’s reaction to a faradhim. Obviously the threat of the Goddess’ wrath was the only thing that had kept Falen’s village from full hostility against the faradhim.

If Ossan noticed the souring of Falen’s expression he didn’t show it. But Ossan hardly ever showed any sort of emotion. “The chief of Kiradon, that’s one of the northern-most villages, is bonded to a faradhim named Lyse. They’ll both be here for the Council.”

Falen looked up curiously. “Council?”

Kirst nodded absently. “Yeah, the Council of all the Sakano elders.”

A puzzled look crossed Falen’s face and he titled his head slightly to stare at the two warriors. “You mean all the village chiefs are coming here?” A bit of panic crossed the boy’s face before it was carefully masked.

Kirst and Ossan exchanged a confused glance. “The chiefs and the other elders on each village council,” Ossan explained slowly. “They’ll all be meeting here to decide what must be done.” The warrior sent a questioning glance to the faradhim. “I thought the Miyagi did the same.”

Slowly Falen shook his head. “Not for as long as I remember.”

Ossan frowned. “I thought there was a meeting…” The sentence died off suddenly and Ossan turned to Kirst.

Kirst’s brow furrowed as he tried to remember the last time he’d heard of the Miyagi meeting. Had relations between their two clans fallen off so badly that they didn’t even know the basics of the political structures even more? Even before the contest of the Chosen he remembered other brawls but there had to be some areas that were still in contact. They were different clans, separated by their choice of habitat but overall they were one tribe. They worshipped the same goddess.

“There’s only been the village chiefs,” Falen answered quietly. A pained look crossed the boy’s face but he continued speaking. “All the chiefs answer to one chief. There isn’t a council or anything.”

“Are you alright?” Kirst watched Falen, a little surprise at his sudden concern.

Falen waved off Kirst concern with a forced smile. “I’m alright. I just get headaches sometimes.”

Ossan nodded silently and glanced out the windows. “We should go. The elders will be expecting us soon.”

Kirst stood quickly and offered a hand to help Falen to his feet. The faradhim looked up with surprise, studying Kirst’s face for a short moment before smiling widely and taking Kirst’s hand. A trace of pain still showed on the boy’s face as he cast a glance back at the dirty plates on the table.

“Leave them,” Kirst said quietly. “I’ll wash them when we get back.”

The boy opened his mouth to protest but Kirst just shook his head. He quickly guided the boy out of the house, not noticing until they were already a few paces down the road that his arm had slipped around Falen’s waist seemingly of its own accord. Falen looked up at him curiously and Kirst started suddenly, quickly pulling his arm away. Something akin to disappointment flitted across Falen’s face but Kirst told himself he had just imagined that.

“You said that your village chiefs all answer to one chief?” Ossan asked quietly as he strode slightly ahead of them on the road.

Wide, startled blue eyes looked up suddenly and Falen nodded. Obviously the boy’s thoughts had wandered elsewhere and a faint blush slipped across the boy’s pale face. “Y-yes.”

“Who’s that chief?”

“My chief. Dyne Serin.”

Kirst frowned but said nothing. Falen’s body had gone rigid suddenly and Kirst knew better than to press the boy.

“How many people will be coming to this Council?” Falen asked suddenly.

Ossan cocked his head slightly and thought for a moment. “Around twenty-seven.”

Falen stopped in the middle of the street, eyes wide. “That many?”

“Well, the full Council totals around thirty-three, including the elders that live here and Priest Beryn.”

“Is that a problem?” Kirst asked curiously.

Quickly, Falen shook his head, an uneasy smile playing across his face. “No, it’s alright. I’ll do what is needed, I just didn’t expect it to be… that many.”

“I’ll go with you,” Kirst offered quickly.

Falen smiled slightly at him but didn’t seem at all relieved by Kirst’s words.

Conversation trailed off as Ossan lead them quietly towards the council hall. He nodded once at the warrior stationed at the main entrance before confidently leading them through the halls of the building, bypassing the large main room that would be used later when the full Council arrived. Instead, they proceeded to a small conference room in the rear of the building. Ossan knocked once on the door, waiting for a muffled response before opening the door and ushering Falen and Kirst inside.

Four of the village elders sat inside behind a large table. All but one of them were late in their years though the youngest of the elders was absent from the table. Kirst knew each of them personally. Most had held their positions since Kirst was a young child. With wide eyes, Falen quickly dropped to the floor, his head pressed to the floor in a low bow. The elders seemed just as shocked as Kirst at the strange behavior and Kirst quickly grabbed the boy’s arm. Falen resisted as he tried to pull the boy to his feet. He opened his mouth to speak but one of the elders beat him too it.

“Rise, little one, and be at ease. We do not care for formality here.” Elder Kraine Field had a kind smile on his face as he spoke. He’d held his position for nearly forty years, one of the oldest elders in the entire Council.

With a confused look Falen slowly stood with Kirst’s help, though the boy remained silent. He shifted closer to Kirst slightly, almost as if he were seeking protection. The move did not go unnoticed by the elders.

“You’re the faradhim that was Chosen?” Elder Field asked, taking the lead in the discussion as he normally did. The other elders normally deferred to him. Even the chief of the village sought Elder Field’s advice before making a decision.

Falen nodded hesitantly. “I am.”

“Your name?” One of the other elders, a dark haired man by the name of Kal Wis, asked quietly. A pen was held in his hand, poised at the ready as he waited for the boy to speak.

“Falen, sir.” Elder Wis jotted the name down quickly.

“And what encampment do you come from?”

“The Evan encampment, sir.”

The elders shared a glance. “That’s one of the main encampments, isn’t it?”

Falen simply nodded but didn’t offer any further information. Kirst shifted closer slightly as he recognized fear in the corners of Falen’s eyes. “It’s alright,” he whispered quietly, low enough that only Falen would hear him. “They’re not going to hurt you. You’re safe here.”

The faradhim shot him a grateful look but didn’t seem to relax any.

“Why were you Chosen, Falen? Surely your clan honors the tradition of faradhim.”

Hesitantly, Falen answered. “I knew too much about my chief. They hoped to be rid of me without risking the chance of the Goddess’ wrath.”

Every one of the elders sat up at Falen’s words. “The chance?” Chief Meryn asked from where he sat on the far right.

“They have escaped the punishment for minor infractions.”

Elder Field’s eyes narrowed. “Explain.”

All emotion fled Falen’s face as he turned slowly and tugged apart the ties that closed his dress. The fabric fell to pool around his elbows, revealing a multitude of bruises crossing the boy’s back. Kirst felt his eyes narrow and he would have been gripping his sword hilt if he’d been wearing one. Instead he settled for clenching a hand around his belt, the feel of crumpling leather bringing him a tiny bit of relief.

“Who did that to you?” Outrage filled Chief Meryn’s voice. As Kirst turned his gaze away from Falen’s back he saw similar looks on the other elder’s faces though Meryn practically vibrated with rage.

“My chief and his warriors.” Falen answered calmly as he pulled up his dress and retied the fastenings.

“They dared to harm a faradhim?”

“There was no punishment. The Goddess no longer protects me.” Falen answered quietly.

Elder Field nodded silently. “You have given us ample reason to call a full Council. We will save the rest of our questions until the others arrive.”

“Thank you,” Falen bowed slightly, relief evident in his tone.

“Kirst.” The word was a command and Kirst nodded once before leading Falen out of the room. Ossan was waiting on the other side and he followed the pair silently as they left the council hall. Falen was silent, his cheer from this morning gone completely, hidden behind a calm and emotionless mask.

As soon as they stepped outside of the council hall a familiar face appeared before them.

“Hey!” Tyrnan practically bounced with enthusiasm. “How’d it go?” He turned expectantly towards Falen, his expression falling as he suddenly took in the boy’s somber face.

Hesitantly Falen smiled but he said nothing.

“It went well,” Kirst answered for the boy. Falen looked up at him with a silent question and Kirst smiled back as best he could, the expression feeling slightly foreign on his usually somber face.

“Good! That calls for a celebration.” The brunette shrugged in response to the skeptic looks he received from the two warriors. “Or a distraction, whichever you prefer to call it. Either way, let’s go!”

Curiosity played across Falen’s face as they slowly fell in step behind Tyrnan, chasing away a bit of the blank mask he’d worn previously. “Where are we going?” He asked timidly.

“Why, to the pub of course. Well, the Barrel’s Fill to be specific, but it’s really the only pub in town so the name doesn’t get used much.” Tyrnan fell back to slip an arm around the boy’s shoulders. “It’s a little early at the moment but it’ll fill up in a bit.”

For once Kirst didn’t say a word to discourage Tyrnan’s bubbling conversation. Slowly the exuberant man was drawing Falen out of his shell and that was more than enough for him to overlook the normal annoyance that accompanied Tyrnan’s presence.

*****

“I can’t believe you got a faradhim drunk.”

The voice washed over Falen and he smiled happily, all his earlier worries forgotten as he leaned into the strong arms holding him.

“I didn’t get him drunk. You were the one shoving drinks in his face.” The second voice sounded much closer, rumbling under Falen’s cheek and he pressed just a bit closer to the vibration. “You’re not much better yourself.”

Falen stumbled slightly but didn’t so much as tilt. He frowned slightly as he considered that physical impossibility before he realized that arms were holding him up. A huge grin split his face at the thought. How nice of them to keep him from falling. Quite nice, he thought, and he would have kissed them if they’d had a mouth. Or just if they were anywhere near his own but they seemed a lot farther down and he had a feeling he’d fall over if he tried to kiss them down there.

“He gets quite affectionate when he’s drunk.” The first voice slurred from further ahead. Falen concentrated on the sound for a moment. It sounded familiar. Oh yes! He remembered. That was the nice hunter, Tyrnan.

“Which is why you’re over there.” If Tyrnan was over there that meant Kirst was the nice man holding him up. How very nice, he thought and smiled wider. He liked Kirst holding him. It was comfortable and he turned to wrap his arms around the big chest with a happy grin. There was a pause in the movement and they wavered for a second.

“Falen, I can’t walk with you like that.” Was that directed to him? He guessed not. Kirst could walk just fine.

“Mmm.” Falen burrowed closer to the warm chest.

There was a deep sigh from above him, warm breath tickling the hairs on the back of his head before the world suddenly spun. His stomach lurched at the movement but everything seemed to stay put and then Kirst started walking again, though his steps seemed to be bouncing Falen up and down instead of forward like they had been.

Blearily he looked around and saw Kirst’s head was on the same level as his own. He’d suddenly gotten taller, Falen decided, since normally Kirst stood a good head above Falen’s own.

“Hi,” Falen said happily and he watched a not-quite-smile play across Kirst’s face. Wiggling forward, he shifted in the nice arms that kept him from falling to wrap his arms around Kirst’s neck, resting his head on Kirst’s shoulder. The hands holding him didn’t shift with him and one came to rest lightly on Falen’s rear as he moved to something resembling a sitting position in Kirst’s arms. He inhaled slightly, liking the combination of leather, musk and pine that seemed to be Kirst’s scent. He also liked the feeling of the large hand on his backside and decided Kirst should do that more often.

“Aww. I think he likes you,” came the voice from ahead.

“Shut up, Tyrnan,” Kirst rumbled.

After a moment of breathing in Kirst’s scent, Falen sat back slightly to stare into Kirst’s face. Or at least he thought it was Kirst’s face. He might have been off by a few inches. “You’re comfy,” he pronounced with a nod.

Two voices laughed in front of him and Falen realized there was someone supporting Tyrnan the way Kirst was supporting Falen. Well, not exactly the same. Theirs was more like the way Kirst and Falen had started out instead of the comfort Falen currently enjoyed.

“Shut up,” Kirst grated out, glaring at the two ahead and Falen knew Kirst wasn’t mad at him. Smiling happily Falen let his head fall back onto Kirst’s shoulder. He must have dozed slightly because he blinked and suddenly there were wood walls around them and the other two men were gone, leaving Falen and Kirst alone. Slowly Falen was lowered to his feet but he didn’t let go.

“Go to bed, Falen.”

A beaming smile lit Falen’s face and he nodded. Kirst eyed him warily as he slipped out of Falen’s grasp but he didn’t say anything. Kirst turned to enter his bedroom. Falen followed and then smacked into a broad back as Kirst stopped suddenly. Strong arms caught him before he could fall and he smiled as Kirst glared at him.

“What are you doing?”

“Going to bed,” Falen answered simply before launching himself at Kirst, knocking them both onto the bed. He felt the mattress bounce as they landed and he giggled.

*****

“Falen.” Kirst glared down at the blonde boy currently attached to his middle. Apparently being drunk gave the boy complete immunity to Kirst’s glares because the boy just giggled slightly and moved closer. Kirst hadn’t thought it was possible for the boy to get closer considering he was already pressed full against Kirst’s side but then the boy shifted to practically straddle Kirst and yes, he was closer.

“Falen.” He tried speaking louder but there was no response from the boy. He really needed to get the boy off of him. The boy’s position was doing bad things to his insides and it really didn’t help that the back flap of Falen’s dress was raised almost obscenely high. “Falen?”

Kirst watched suspiciously as the boy’s breathing evened out to a low, steady rhythm. With a curse Kirst let his head fall back on the bed. Falen was asleep. The Goddess had to be taking some sort of perverse delight in this situation. He tried gently lifting the boy but the delicate arms held strong, gripping Kirst like a leech. A very beautiful leech, and he was tempted to think even sexy but that brought with it several things Kirst didn’t want to consider at the moment. Still a leech nonetheless and Kirst gave up trying to pry the boy off of him.

Shifting backwards, he pulled the boy with him as he moved so he was at least fully on the bed and carefully kicked off his boots. With a sigh he let his head fall back against the pillows and hoped the boy didn’t take it too bad when he woke up.

*****

The first thing that hit Falen was that his head hurt and the sun was too bright. The second thing was that his back was cold but his chest was pressed against something warm. Blearily cracking open one eye, Falen discovered that was a bad thing as it brought the sunlight in through his eye like stabbing hot knives. He noticed that the warm thing was moving, a soothing up-down motion that was somewhat familiar to Falen and he chanced a second look, shading his eye with one hand. Kirst was looking down at him, eyes wide open and very close.

Startled, Falen jerked back on the bed suddenly. Only there wasn’t really any more bed behind him and he found himself tumbling gracelessly to the floor. The pain in his head spiked as he hit the floor and he at least landed on his backside instead of any other part of his anatomy. Clutching his head, Falen curled into a ball on the floor with a loud moan. At least there was no sunlight on the floor.

“You alright?” There was a hint of a smirk in Kirst’s tone and Falen had a sudden feeling he didn’t want to know what he’d done last night.

“Sorry,” Falen muttered, hoping it covered all the idiotic behavior of the previous night.

The bed creaked and then two feet stood directly in front of Falen before Kirst dropped down so that Falen was staring directly at… Falen looked up quickly at Kirst’s face. “Are you alright?” Kirst asked quietly.

“Aside from the herd of gazelles that’s running through my head, I think so.” Hesitantly, Falen broached the question that floated in his mind, filling him with dread. “I didn’t do anything… strange… last night, did I?”

A smirk fixed itself on Kirst’s face and he knew if they were on better terms, Kirst would be using the events of last night for blackmail for ages. “No, nothing too bad.”

Falen breathed a tiny sigh of relief before he looked up at the bed towering about him. “And that?” He lifted a hand to wave slightly at the bed.

“Just sleep.”

“Right.” The floor felt really comfortable at the moment and he didn’t think he wanted to move.

“Come on, I’ll make breakfast.” With a smile Kirst lifted Falen easily to his feet and guided him into the main room.

Next Chapter

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This work is licensed under a Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 United States License.

A cool breeze blew in from the open window, not really doing much to alleviate the awful summer heat, but it at least got the air moving in the basement enough that it didn’t seem as hot. A quiet calm radiated over the neighborhood. In the distance he could hear faded music from a scratchy stereo, the sound barely audible over the low hum of crickets in the yard surrounding his house. On a night like this Xander almost forgot that he was living on top of a giant demon magnet. Everything was peaceful, the kind of still quiet that came only in movies. Even the local baddies seemed to be affected by the heat. There didn’t seem to be anything happening in the ‘Dale tonight. No evil plots, no rampaging demons or insane wizards, nothing. There were still vampires and Buffy was still doing her rounds, but those things never went away. It was quiet enough that the rest of them could take the night off.

Problem was Xander didn’t really have much to do on his night off, or at least nothing that he wanted to do in the oppressive heat that had seemingly stolen the reign of terror from the resident evil baddies. There hadn’t been any big evils lurking around recently, just the heat. Even their own pet evil had up and disappeared. No one had seen or heard from Spike in over two weeks, not that anyone but Xander cared…. or that Xander would admit that he cared. But really he just missed the fact that he didn’t have anyone to go out drinking with or play pool with. Really, that was it.

So Xander lay on his bed, the only thing he could work up energy to do. He let his orange button-up shirt hang open while he pretended that he wasn’t moping over the lack of gorgeous bleached Brits in his general vicinity or feeling hurt that said not-thought-about vampire had skipped town without even a word to Xander. Not that he thought Spike was gorgeous. Of course not, no. That would mean admitting that his heterosexuality was slowly being eaten away by the presence of a very han… no, not handsome, a very… something-not-gay-sounding vampire. But it wasn’t the lack of eye candy that got to him. No, some small and obviously insane part of his brain had come up with the idea that Xander actually meant something to Spike.

Which he didn’t. Obviously.

Because it wasn’t like they were friends. Friends like each other. Which they didn’t. Him and Spike. They hated each other, right? Well, kinda. Thinking objectively Xander couldn’t remember the last time he’d been able to work up a good solid hate towards Spike. In fact, he’d been swinging a little more towards the exact opposite of hate recently… but that wasn’t the point. They weren’t friends. They were pool buddies. That was it. They had their game, every week. Same bat time, same bat channel. Regular as rain… wait, that didn’t sound right. Scratch that. They played pool. That was it, end of story.

Oh, and they drank. Spike was all insistent that Xander needed to learn appreciation of ‘proper’ beer, so he’d started bringing some imported stuff over. The beverage of choice varied weekly. Spike had said it was so Xander could get a taste of all the different ones, so he could see what he liked and… Okay, so maybe they were a bit more than just pool buddies. Last time he checked being pool buddies didn’t extend to vampires showing up on your doorstep with a case of beer.

Well, occasionally Spike brought other things. Like the Wednesday before he’d left Spike had brought some strange British movie, but that was only because the previous Monday he’d stopped by while Xander was watching Dawn of the Dead and started complaining about how Xander had no taste in anything, not clothes, not beer, not movies, nothing. Oh, and he’d brought pizza once a few weeks ago, which was a godsend because it’d been after a really bad day at work and Xander hadn’t gotten home until really late. He’d even had to cancel on a research day with Giles and the girls, and he’d been so exhausted by the time he’d gotten home that he could barely see straight. To this day he was still surprised he hadn’t gotten mugged or jumped by some vamp considering how he’d been staggering that night.

Yeah…. so maybe they were a bit more than the average pool buddies. Xander would be almost tempted to say friends if he thought vampires could have friends. Which they don’t, or at least not friends that were of the human-type. That whole ‘happy-meal on legs’ kind of thing sort of prevented that. So what were they?

A rustling by the window made Xander turn his head, wary of a stray cat crawling in through the open window. What he saw made him jump up in surprise as a pair of black boots appeared outside his window, followed shortly by a familiar bleached head.

“Spike!” Okay so maybe he was acting a bit too much like an overactive puppy but he didn’t care. Why? Because Spike was back!

“Evenin’, mate. Mind if I step in?”

“No, come in. The door’s unlocked.” He waited until Spike appeared at the top of the stairs to continue speaking. “You know you always have an open invitation here.”

“You sure that’s a good idea, pet?” A wicked smile creased Spike’s face as he descended into the basement. Xander stared at him for a moment. His mind was still too busy doing its little happy dance of joy now that Spike was here for him to really catch what was said. One thin eyebrow rose on a pale face and Xander realized he was supposed to respond.

“Oh, what? The door? No big demons about and you vamps need an invitation.”

“Didn’t mean the door, pet.” Spike’s grin widened just a touch as he stepped closer, invading Xander’s personal space. “Meant the invitation.”

Xander matched Spike’s grin with a dopey one of his own, trying not to let any of the sudden nervousness he felt leak into his face. He fell back onto their old ribbing instead, warring off his emotions with sarcastic humor. “Why’d that be a problem? Not like you can hurt me, Fangless.”

Xander hit the wall so fast that he didn’t even realize he’d been lifted until his back slammed into unmoving plaster. Pain hit him and he winced, more in sympathy for Spike than himself as he waited for the loud cursing that was sure to follow. One of the carved bookends on the shelf above him tottered and fell off the open end of the shelf above him to clank onto the floor, but there was a distinct lack of British swearing.

“See, that’s the thing pet. ‘m not so fangless anymore.”

Xander’s eyes widened to saucers as he stared at the madly grinning vampire that had him by the throat. “Your chip’s out.”

“Got it in one, luv.”

Well that was certainly a surprise. A fairly big surprise. One that meant many nasty things, like the fact that he probably had about five more minutes to live and that all of his friends had possibly been brutally murdered not too long ago.

“When’d you get your chip out?” That certainly wasn’t the brightest thing to say but apparently his mouth hadn’t gotten the memo that there were more important things to worry about. Like, for instance, why he wasn’t already dead and whether or not his friends were all post-mortem.

“‘aven’t been ’round for a while, ‘ave I?”

That answered where Spike had disappeared to for the past two weeks and why he hadn’t said anything, but it left room for more pressing questions. Like why Spike sniffing his neck.

“Are you going to kill me?” It was a pointless question, really. They’d all heard Spike’s threats of what he was going to do to each of them as soon as he got his chip out.

Spike paused, his face hovering inches above Xander’s bare neck. A burst of cool air ghosted over Xander’s skin as Spike sighed. He shivered, and hoped Spike would write it off fear and not the fact that he was being mildly turned on by Spike pinning Xander to the wall with his entire body.

“‘m not going to kill you,” Spike murmured into his skin.

“Then what are you…” Cool lips met flesh with a distinct lack of fang and Xander’s voice died a horrible spluttering death when a slightly gravelly tongue followed the lips. Spike was kissing him. On the neck. Spike, unchipped, near his neck, and not biting. Doing distinctly non-bitey things but Xander was more willing to focus on the bitey than the non-bitey considering the non-bitey was currently doing funny things to his lower anatomy.

Xander jumped as a cold hand suddenly appeared on his chest, slipping in through the open shirt to slide around Xander’s side until it settled in the small of his lower back. Spike moved his mouth lower, pausing to nibble lightly on Xander’s right shoulder blade and he realized then that Spike no longer had a hold on his throat. He could, theoretically, try to push the vampire off him right now. Theoretically. The more practical part of him was currently turning into mush as he learned what vampires could do with necks when not biting them.

“Spike,” he moaned breathlessly though really it had been intended more as a question. Damn vocal chords not working how he wanted. He tried again. “Spike?” Good, that one came out a bit solider.

The vampire made a non-committal grunt into Xander’s neck as he slipped the orange shirt Xander had been wearing down his arms.

“Spike?” He tried again, managing to get out a bit more this time. “What are you doing?”

The vampire pulled away for a second to glare at him. “‘m not gonna kill you, mate, so stop whining.”

“Then what are you doing, Spike?” He wasn’t exactly complaining about the sudden change, not really. It was just a little confusing to go from ‘oh the big bad vamp’s going to kill me and dance around town with my entrails as a banner’ to ‘oh the big bad vamp’s trying to make out with me’.

Spike looked at him for a long minute. Then his gaze suddenly shifted elsewhere for the briefest of seconds before it snapped back to Xander, and he got the evilest of grin’s on his face. Xander suddenly found himself getting a good look at the carpeting as he was slung over Spike’s shoulder. He needed to vacuum. Wait, that wasn’t what he should be focusing on. There should be indignation, really. All he could manage at the moment was to be turned on at how easily Spike could pick him up and toss him around.

“Spike, put me down!”

“Sure thing.”

Xander bounced as he found himself once again on his back on the bed, though this time there was an evil-looking vampire looming over him. Okay so that wasn’t such a good thing. Make that a smug-looking and somewhat sexy vampire currently peeling Xander’s pants off looming over him. Xander’s mind suddenly caught up to what was going on here. Namely the fact that this was him, pantsless, with a very obviously aroused vampire doing naughty things to him.

“Oh.” Spike wanted to have sex with him.

Xander’s eyes widened as he realized what he’d just realized. “Oh!” Him. Spike. Sex. Hot sex. Wild passionate monkey sex with him and a vampire. Okay, so he didn’t know for certain that there would be monkey sex but he was definitely hoping for it. They seemed to be heading that way, and he didn’t really mind heading that way.

Spike grinned down at him, wordlessly watching revelation play out over Xander’s face. He should be more opposed to this, he thought, but he couldn’t think of a single objection as Spike lowered himself to press jean-clad thighs against Xander’s naked legs. “Ohhh…” He moaned into Spike’s mouth as the vampire kissed him, a real kiss full on the lips and he brought his arms up to pull the vampire closer. His fists clenched in soft fabric and he decided Spike was wearing entirely too much clothing. He was naked. Spike should be too.

A nearby lampshade suddenly got a new decoration as Xander tossed the vampire’s shirt off to the side. Apparently the act was appreciated if the sudden fervor of Spike’s wandering hands was any indication. He gasped as the cool lips moved down to worry at his neck once more. Figures that a vampire would have a particular fondness for that spot. As Xander’s hands slipped into tight jeans he thought of something.

“Spike, what about…” Oh that tongue was devilish. A devilish, evil tongue to go with a devilish, evil vampire, and there was something he’d been trying to say. “Buffy?”

“What? Where?” Spike snapped his head up to stare around the room.

“No, not here.” Relief visibly filled the vampire’s figure. “Are you going to kill her?”

Spike looked at him like he’d turned purple. “You want me to?”

Xander quickly shook his head. “No, definitely don’t want the kill-age. It’s just that…”

“Spit it out pet.” Spike slid off the bed suddenly and Xander was almost disappointed, thinking that he’d ruined it and that Spike was going to leave. That was until the vampire dropped his pants. Xander stared. He knew he was staring, knew he probably should stop staring and close his mouth but seeing Spike suddenly naked was… wow! That was the only word he could think of for it. Just… wow!

“I know I’m fucking gorgeous, pet, but you were trying to say something, right?”

“Right,” Xander agreed quickly. What was it? Oh, right. Very slowly he dragged his eyes up to Spike’s face, blushing at the lecherous grin spread across the blonde’s lips. The bed dipped as Spike crawled back to him and he found himself once more looking up at the vampire. This was not a bad thing, he decided, and should be repeated more in the future. “You’re not going to kill her like you said you would if you ever got the chip out?”

Spike rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not going to, okay? You good with that?”

“Yeah,” Xander answered quickly. Spike started to lean down to kiss him, and Xander was fine with that as well but he had to ask. “What about Giles?”

“Bloody hell!” Spike glared down at him. “No, ‘m not going to kill him either.”

“And Willow?”

“No! Not going to kill anyone, alright? At least not anyone that you know.” The last part didn’t sit entirely well with Xander but he found he couldn’t object overly much. This was Spike, a self-proclaimed evil killing vampire and it was hard to expect him to not kill just because he and Xander…. He wasn’t sure what they had. It was something, obviously, or they wouldn’t be here like this and Spike wouldn’t have made that limit on his killing. In a way it was almost sweet, in a sick, twisted I’m-sleeping-with-a-vampire sort of way. “Now is there anything else you need to get off your chest or can we bloody get on with it?”

As much as the thought of getting on with it made happy pink bunnies dance in Xander’s stomach, he made himself stop for a second and think this through. Here he was, naked in bed with an equally naked evil vampire who had pretty much declared undying love in a kind of vampire-ish ‘I’ll limit my killing just for you’ sort of way, about to have sex with an undead creature of the night. Sex up the ass nonetheless considering the plumbing involved. Strangely he found himself less bothered by all of this than he should be. But this was Spike, almost-friend Spike who he’d know for a while and if he thought about it he’d been attracted to for a while. This could work.

“Nope, I’m good,” Xander replied with a smile.

“Sure?” Spike gave him a skeptical look.

“Yep.” He nodded.

With a groan Spike let himself fall down onto Xander. Then the hands and the lips were back and Xander found himself responding with equal passion. He started slightly when a cold finger slipped between his legs and back a bit to poke at what would normally be an exit-only hole. Oddly enough the feeling wasn’t as strange as he’d expected. Painful, but then few things in life weren’t and Xander found himself actually enjoying it after a bit. He enjoyed it more when Spike pushed his legs further apart to kneel between them, lifting Xander’s hips until they were perfectly aligned so that Spike could push a very large piece of flesh in with one swift thrust. And oh what a thrust that was. Xander cried out loud, very glad that his parents were two floors above them and very deep sleepers.

Spike froze for a good long minute, his face contorted into a look of pleasure to the point of pain. “Oh, you’re going to be the death of me, pet,” Spike muttered. “So warm, you are. Bloody heaven in here.”

A small part of Xander’s brain not currently covered in warm-fuzzies managed to respond. “You’re already dead.”

Spike glared down at him and then grinned as he pulled out slowly, leaving Xander cursing and grabbing at the bed sheets as he felt part of Spike move inside of him. The smug snickering coming from the vampire demanded some sort of response. Which he fully intended to give as soon as his brain started working again.

“Does that mean I get to be the life of you?”

There was more in that question than Xander realized, possibly more than he’d intended. They stared at each other for a long moment, completely ignoring the fact that they were currently joined at the hip. Spike looked at him for what felt like half of eternity before he suddenly smiled, a real smile that seemed foreign to the vampire’s lips but it was a smile that Xander liked instantly. He smiled back.

“Yeah, pet, that’s it.”

“Cool,” Xander beamed. “I like that.”

Wrapping his arms around the vampire’s neck he pulled Spike down into a deep kiss, thrusting his hips slightly to remind Spike of what he should be doing. Slowly Spike picked up the idea, moving in and out of Xander in an ever increasing pace until Xander had his head tilted back screaming obscenities at the vampire that was currently torturing him with pleasure. His body was tense, a taunt wire hovering just on the edge but no matter how much he wanted it, needed it, release seemed to hide just beyond his grasp. He shivered, his body turned into one giant sensitive nerve and he realized he was waiting for something. His head was gently tilted to the side and then he found what he was waiting for in the sharp pinch of teeth biting into his flesh.

He screamed.

When Xander was finally able to peal himself off of the ceiling and float back down into his body, he was surprised to find a now still Spike licking frantically at his neck. He reached up and placed a hand on Spike’s back, waiting until the vampire finished lapping at his skin to speak.

“You bit me.” Xander couldn’t help the hint of confused indignation that snuck into the words.

“There are different kinds of bites, luv.” With a smile, the vampire slowly separated the two of them. For a minute Spike looked as if he was considering leaving. Instinctively Xander latched on, clutching Spike’s arm in a tight hold. The vampire looked between Xander and his hand for a second before chuckling and shifting suddenly, rolling to his side and pulling the covers over them both. Once he was settled, Spike moved Xander over, positioning the human until he was half-draped over Spike’s chest like a flesh-blanket.

Xander chuckled, the sound muffled by pale skin. When the amusement died slightly he turned to look up into equally amused eyes.

“So, you’re really not going to kill everyone?”

A frown knitted Spike’s brow and Xander got the strange urge to lean up and kiss it. Spike’s arm around his waist kept him from moving. “…not your friends.”

“Why?” The answer wasn’t all that important. His friends were safe and he had this strange thing budding between him and Spike. The rest was irrelevant.

“Do you want me to?” Spike asked seriously, and Xander knew that if he ever did want Spike to kill someone, it’d be done. No questions asked, no arguing, just done. The thought was both scary and romantic at the same time. He thought maybe Spike’s bad habits were starting to rub off on him.

“Of course not.”

“Well that’s it.” Spike replied slowly.

“It’s that simple?” It seemed a little too easy, at least to Xander’s mind. Vampires weren’t supposed to be all soft when it came to humans. Not that he was complaining, it was just a little unprecedented.

“…yeah, I guess it is.” And that was it. Case closed.

“Thanks,” Xander said with a smile, and he meant it.

“Welcome, luv.”

Xander let himself drift in the embrace. It had been a while since he’d shared a bed with anyone and he was beginning to realize just how much he missed it. Which lead to the question of whether there’d be a repeat performance of tonight. He kind of hoped there would be, but he didn’t want to just come out and ask. Instead he went back to the question that had been puzzling him earlier in the morning.

“Spike, what are we?” Even as he asked the question Xander could feel the dark land of sleep already pulling him down. He closed his eyes, his cheek resting against an unmoving chest that was surprisingly comfortable as he started to drift off. Just before he fell asleep completely, Spike’s soft words caught his ear and he smiled.

“We’re mates, luv.”