A very good afternoon, my dears!

Very good, I say, because I have just read part 2 of Male Bonding and quite possibly have a new candidate for favourite fic ever. Ever! I tells you. God, I'm still recovering. ::fans self::

Due to this sudden case of incoherence, I'm going to have to keep this brief. So ...

A Harsh Master

He would never forget the face of the man he loved as it twisted, contorted, stayed exactly the same, and lowered to his neck to sink fangs into his flesh. Xander had felt his heart slow, his breaths shorten, struggled with all the strength he had left.

Then nothing, as the body was ripped away and his eyes slipped shut, leaving him nowhere to go but the darkness.


The pain in his neck was loud, throbbing, calling attention to itself like an accusation or a warning and although he screwed his eyes shut and tried to block it out, his body was one of those things that he just couldn't run away from, no matter how hard he tried.

Couldn't run from his thoughts, either, but at least he was better at ignoring them. And the soft murmur of voices promised to distract him, at least for while, so he opened his eyes.

It was dark in the room now, just the faint lights from the corridor. It hadn't registered earlier, but the venetian blinds were still opened far enough that he could see the lights of the city glittering outside his window. At his soft sigh, the voices fell silent, and he turned his head to see Wes and Giles getting up from mismatched chairs at the end of the bed. Looking around, he could see that he'd been put in a single room.

From what little he could see, Giles looked like crap. Tired, old, and he'd never really thought of Giles like that. Giles turned slightly and the light passed over haggard features and a smile that was typically British, in that you could only see the relief and the pleasure with years of practice. Xander smiled back, raising his eyebrows slightly, grinning when Giles did that little self-deprecating mouth thing that at once dismissed his appearance and scolded Xander for drawing attention to it.

He flicked his eyes over to Wes, who was looking just as relieved as Giles, smiling again.

Giles moved closer, sitting lightly on the side of the bed. "Xander, you're awake at last. How are you feeling?"

Xander went to shrug, stopped when the movement jarred something in his shoulder and sent little stabbing pains through his neck. He couldn't stop the sharp intake of breath, grimacing wryly. "Not too bad, I guess. Except for all the excruciating pain, but hey, still alive, right? No, really, right? Not dying of some internal bleeding thing or something?"

Giles smiled and patted his hand. "No, Xander, you'll be fine. You took quite the beating, and there was a fair amount of ... blood loss, but nothing you won't recover from." Xander caught the hesitation over 'blood loss'. So Giles knew what had happened. Of course he'd know, he was there, after all. But Xander didn't want to talk about that. Not yet. Not before he could figure out what it meant. So he nodded and glanced down. He could feel Giles watching him, waiting. Heard him sigh, finally, and looked back up. "Thank you, Xander."

He blinked, surprised. Not what he'd been expecting. "For what?"

Giles snorted a little, affectionately. "For saving our lives. It was exceptionally foolish of you to go rushing in there like that, but had you hesitated we would all be dead right now."

Xander blinked, then chuckled. "Hey, you know me, King of the distracting pummel. At least I'm learning to pummel back. That's a step in the right direction."

Giles gave him a wry smirk. "Indeed. And may I say, a much more effective method of distraction it is."

Xander just raised his eyebrows and grinned. "So, Buffy said everyone's okay. I didn't dream that, right? We're all dancing merrily along the road to recovery? 'Cause no offence, Giles, but you look like shit. Should you even be out of bed? Last I saw you were busy making the floor your new best friend."

"Well, no offence taken, of course." Giles was giving him the exasperated look. Gee, he'd missed that look. As per expectation he put on his innocent face. Giles maintained the look for longer than Xander would have given him credit for, smirking reluctantly before becoming serious again. "No, you didn't dream that. Yes, everyone will be fine. But you were unconscious for nearly three days, Xander. You woke up only this afternoon. We have been very worried about you."

"Seriously? Three days? Wow, no wonder the Buffster was up and about."

"Xander ..." Giles hesitated, glanced at Wesley. Xander felt his stomach clench, couldn't say anything. "Xander, we were wondering, that is ..." The glasses came off as he looked down. Wes stepped forward.

"We wanted to ask you about Spike," he said plainly. Xander looked away, down, anywhere but at the two men patiently waiting for him to say something. Eventually he just took a deep breath, let go of the life preserver and looked up.

Nodded. "Sure, what'd you want to know?" Cheerfully, carelessly, which made Giles look up sharply and pin him with a suspicious gaze. His smile wanted to crack, but he persevered.

"Well, for a start, why didn't you arrive at the church with Spike? We know you were there when Angel called. He asked for you specifically." Angel had asked for him? Wanted him to come? Spike hadn't said. Then again, it had been a pretty short conversation and what with being all distracted by the crisis, maybe Spike just hadn't heard.

He shrugged. "Spike said he could take care of it. He ... he asked me not to come."

Giles was looking at him. Just _looking_, like he could be all psychic and see all the things Xander wasn't saying. Hell, maybe he could. Being all watchery and looking at his ... body language and stuff. "I see. You didn't care that you could feel we were in trouble?"

Xander looked up sharply at the harsh tone. "What!? No! Of course I cared! I was running out the door the second I heard you! I got there as fast as I damn well could, Giles. I just got, you know, delayed."

"Delayed."

"Yeah, delayed! You know, that thing that people get when they live in a big city with lots of traffic and stuff? I'm sorry I was late, but at least I was there!"

"And did this delay have anything to do with the fact that you were unconscious for about twenty minutes right after Willow opened the link, Xander?" Giles had moved away, was looking at him like he was some sort of abused wife that couldn't admit anything was wrong. "Did it have anything to do with the bruise on your jaw that the doctors reliably informed us was about an hour older than all your other injuries?"

Xander winced and looked down, running a hand through his hair. It hadn't occurred to him they might have felt that. So, they knew everything then. He wondered if they knew what to do about it. Preferably something that didn't involve telling Spike to stay the hell away from him. Knowing Buffy and Giles, probably not.

Problem was, he wasn't entirely sure they'd be wrong.

Giles sighed. "Xander, I'm sorry. When I learned about you and Spike the other week I was honestly going to try to be supportive, but I'm not sure I can do that anymore. And it's not just this. We're almost certain Spike has been controlling you somehow. Granted, not to harm you, but I'm not sure that makes it any better."

Xander looked up, broken and trying not to be, but he knew Giles would be able to see it. "Giles, it ... he didn't mean to. I don't think ... He just wanted to keep me safe ..."

It was an excuse and he knew it. He didn't want to believe Spike could do something like that, but it was too late to pretend there was nothing there. Giles was right, whatever Spike had done to him, it had made all the doubts, the need to help people, just disappear. He hadn't worried about it, hadn't thought about it at all, most of the time.

But four nights ago his friends had almost died because of Spike's fear, his arrogance and yes, his love. He supposed that was why he'd been able to break out of it. There was no way Spike's little mind tricks would ever stand up against the onslaught of the Scooby bond and Willow's magic.

Spike had held him, laughed with him, _loved_ him ... Controlled him, looked down on him from his vampy pedestal, kept him from the people he loved, from anyone, really, from the sun, put him in a little box to protect him because he was only human and couldn't be trusted to protect himself ... Could go in and play with his mind, even without fucking _meaning_ to, hurt him, bruise him with a careless grip. And then four nights ago Spike had hit him, deliberately knocked him unconscious and for an encore sank fangs into his neck and tried to kill him.

Because he loved him and wanted to keep him safe.

Xander closed his eyes on the tears, spoke softly. "Where is he?"

Giles matched his tone. "Xander ..." Torn, hopeless.

He opened his eyes. "I know ... Giles, I ... I know, alright. Just ... where is he."

"He's upstairs," Wesley broke in. "We're in the medical ward at Wolfram and Hart at the moment. He's been pacing Angel's office for the past three days. Buffy wouldn't, couldn't stake him. She tore him off you before he could kill you completely. Willow kept you alive until the ambulances arrived. But ... she wouldn't let him see you. A stance none of us could much fault. Xander, Spike tried to kill you, are you certain this is advisable?"

Xander let out a despairing sort of huff. "He doesn't want me dead, Wes. You know that."

Wes frowned, but relented. "Yes, I suppose you are right about that. Will you consent to having Willow or Buffy in the room, then, while he is here?"

Xander only hesitated for a moment. "Yeah, sure, Wes." He wasn't sure it was such a bad idea anyway. "They can stand just outside, alright?" It broke his heart that they were talking like this. Talking about _Spike_ like this. Like he was some criminal and Xander was the victim about to come face to face with his tormenter. It broke his heart that he didn't have the strength to argue.

He just lay there as Giles and Wesley left, Giles giving him a final pat on the arm, not saying anything. They both knew he couldn't say what Xander wanted to hear; that he would support him no matter what he decided to do. Xander was just as glad he let it be.

He switched on the light and sat up as much as he was able, then suddenly he could hear hurried footsteps in the hall; heavy, thudding boots and two lighter treads. And he screwed it all up, everything he was feeling, thinking, that was _screaming_ to be let out, and buried it. Shovelled blank thoughts and meaningless memories over them, just in time to turn empty eyes to the black-clad figure bursting into his room.

God, it was almost too much. Just that and his walls were already threatening to collapse.