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Unbreakable Chapter 20
Xander awoke to find a reassuring weight at his back. From
shoulder to hip, Spike was pressed against him, with the smaller man’s spine
fitting below his. He closed his eye again, unwillingly comparing this body with
another’s. In the caverns it was safest to watch one another’s backs, even
when asleep. Xander let out a great sigh and pushed nostalgia aside. He
noticed the newness of Spike’s body. He wasn’t as bony as Anthony and not
even near as tall. Spike tended to breathe in his sleep which was something
Anthony did only if dreaming, and that was rarely in Xander’s experience.
Inwardly, he laughed to himself. Two years he’d known Anthony, and only one of
them had they been… together. How could that be considered any great length of
experience? Xander frowned in annoyance at his morning wood that
twitched happily at the reflected warmth and comfortable presence. Go away,
you. That’s not him. it can never be him. His erection twitched again,
throbbing the message that it didn’t care, it would like some of that lean
muscular body and nicely dimpled cheeks anyway. Shut up. That’s not the
agreement we have and Spike would run for the hills if I suggested it. A
throb and a drip said what if he doesn’t? I... We don’t have that kind of
relationship. Can’t go there. Besides, I miss Anthony. His erection told
him to move on already or at least get some. Behind him, Spike shifted, pressing his buttocks closer.
With a shock, Xander realized Spike had removed his pants some time in the
night. His firm ass pressed against his own. Xander’s cock bounced happily as
of having had its argument proved right. Xander lay still, hoping Spike would
just go back to sleep. Spike lay still for a few minutes, then moved, shifting as
if to roll over. Xander had a sudden vision of Spike’s own morning wood being
presented to him, or even worse pressed against him. Xander tossed aside the
warm covers and dashed for the bathroom. Spike rolled over and caught a glimpse of Xander’s bare
buttocks disappearing into the bathroom. “You okay, Whelp?” “Yeah. Fine.” Spike frowned and stretched. His hand encountered a moist
place on the sheets. He grinned and brought his fingers to his nose. Xander’s
arousal exploded in his predator’s senses. Spike moved his other had to his
own hard cock. Norwegian wood, isn’t it good? Poor boy was being all shy. He
stroked himself teasingly and waited to see if the man would shower and wank off
or just suppress, come back, get dressed, and leave real quick. He listened to Xander brushing his teeth, relieving
himself, and washing his hands. To his surprise, Xander walked back in still
naked with his manhood proudly hanging free and sat on the bed on top of the
covers with his back against the headboard. “Morning, Spike.” “Morning.” Spike felt his own erection give up the
challenge and fade away. “What’s on your busy agenda today?” “Nothing definite. I think I’m going to talk to Giles
today.” “He’ll like that, Xander. I think he was starting to
feel slighted.” Xander blushed. “It’s awkward, Spike.” “Didn’t you part on good terms?” “Oh, the best. It’s just… I’m different now. I’m
a different person. What I’ve done…” Spike sat up and glared at him. “You really think that
the man sometimes known as Ripper will turn his back on you for surviving? I
can’t believe you still view him as a mild mannered shopkeeper. I know
you’ve seen the fire in those eyes.” Xander picked up Spike’s pillow and hugged it.
“You’re right. I know you are.” Spike felt a twinge of
jealousy for the pillow being pressed to Xander’s body. “Of course I
am. Call him today.” “I will. Thanks.” Xander looked away from where the
blanket had slid low on Spike’s body, revealing his smooth chest and that
wonderful line at the bottom of the abdominal muscles that point downwards…
“Did you finish your book last night?” Spike smirked as he watched Xander flounder. Oh, yes.
Biology will win out if nothing else. “Yeah, I did. Thank you for the book on
motorcycles, by the way.” “I want to look at it some time if I could.” “Of course you can, Xander. Mi libre es tu libre,” he
pigeoned. “Thanks.” Xander was still looking anywhere but at
Spike and he kept the pillow clutched to himself. “I like the new laptop, but
I had trouble finding any naked pictures.” “I’m sure Willow deleted them all off the hard
drive.” “Huh?” Xander gawped at him. “Joke. Kidding. The Osborne’s aren’t into kinky
porn.” “Spike! Don’t even joke like that! They’re my
friends!” “They’re an earth witch and a werewolf,” Spike
shrugged. “Deny what you will.” “Grumble. Stop that.” Spike chuckled. “So you want naked pictures? Of anyone in
particular?” “Well, I was looking for Seven of Nine…” “Is the child lock on?” Spike tossed aside the covers
and watched as Xander quickly looked away. Oh well, maybe I’ll wear the boy
down. Then again, I really don’t want to mess up what we’ve got. Whatever it
is. “What’s that?” Spike pulled on his discarded jeans and crossed to the computer, conveniently keeping his back turned to the man so he could put some pants on. “Keeps nasty and naked things from popping up in image search. Must protect the kiddies.” “Um, I don’t know.” Xander logged on and Spike started sharing computer tips and passing on some of his favorite URL’s. Xander quickly relaxed and marveled at Spike’s computer knowledge. Soon, they were searching for strange things and laughing
at the results like teenagers. Jokingly, Spike typed in “skinny guys” and the screen
filled with images of boney men, many in obscene situations. “Funny, Spike.” He shrugged. “I thought so.” Then he saw Xander’s
embarrassment. So the man wasn’t completely out yet. “You know, the Internet is a good place to look for song
lyrics, too.” “And poetry.” “You were looking for something in particular? I noticed
your Donne’s poems among the comic books.” “They’re graphic novels, thank you very much, and I was
looking for something." “Collect a bunch of comic books and put them in one cover
doesn’t change what they are. What were you looking for?” Spike’s long
fingers poised over the keys, ready to fill in the empty search field. “You seemed to enjoy reading them. I was looking for the
source of the apology poem.” “I do like them if you must know. I was just mad back
then because you wouldn’t let me read any of them you had in plastic. What’s
an apology poem?” “Too often between brothers a word wounds more deeply
than a sword,” quoted Xander. “Oh.” Spike’s hand’s slipped to his lap.
“That’s... that’s an obscure poet. He didn’t publish much.” “Huh. I like it and wanted to read more. What’s his
name?” “You won’t find him on the net,” Spike said quickly. “Well, unless it’s a huge conspiracy, I’d still like
to know.” “William Aurelius,” Spike mumbled. “That’s an unusual last name,” Xander pulled the
laptop over in front of himself. “Hey! Do you know about Live Journal? Lots of cool porn
there. All the fan fic you can stand.” “How would you spell that? A r e l i o s? No. Why does it
sound familiar?” Spike sighed and spelled it out. He watched as Xander hit
enter and the results filled the screen. Among
the entries for Marcus Aurelius was a listing for “the family tree of Angelus
of the line of Aurelius.” Xander looked over at Spike. “That’s where I’ve seen
it. Angel is a poet?” “No.” Spike got up and went to the comfy, sunny chair.
He picked up another of the colorful graphic novels and flipped through it. Xander gave him a puzzled look and clicked on the link.
After reading a few lines he called out to Spike, “Hey, these people know a
lot about Angel!” “Associates of Wolfram & Hart,” Spike explained.
“For a while he kept getting it taken down, but they’d just put it up
again.” His fingers tightened on
the book as he hoped Xander
wouldn’t read much more. “So are you part of his tale?” “Family, aren’t I?” he muttered. Xander scrolled down, paused when he found Spike’s name
and read some of the early entries. “Ew! You did not feed off an orphanage?” “Which time?” Xander turned and looked at him, admittedly a bit shocked.
“1889?” “Yeah. That was mostly Dru and Angelus, but I helped.” “I think this site is not what I’m looking for.” “Who wants to know about the poof anyway? Want me to show
you Live Journal now?” “No. Later.” He looked at the list of bloody exploits
and remembered something. He searched the page for the name William and there it
was. “London, 1880: A young gentleman named William Blooden
was turned by Drusilla. Little is known about his life prior to becoming the
vampire known first as William the Bloody and later as Spike. Records show he
earned high marks at Cambridge in Classical Studies and Foreign Languages. For
two years he served as editor of the monthly student-published booklet ‘The
Shield’ that collected submissions of poetry and essays.” “You wrote it,” Xander said softly. “You wrote me a
piece of poetry.” Spike put down the book. Now that he’d been outed, he may
as well take the mockery Xander would dish out. “I did.” Xander turned to look at him. “Wow. You’ve been
published, too?” Spike shrugged. “Here and there over the years. Never
anything much.” “That’s cool, Spike,” Xander grinned. “Wait. You think it’s cool that I write poetry as a
hobby?” Xander came over and sat on the end of the seat. “Sure.
It’s hard to write. I admit I tried a few times, and Anthony was encouraging,
but…” Xander trailed off and chewed on a nail. “I can’t do it. Thanks
for writing me something.” Spike tilted his head at the suddenly shy man. “I
didn’t know how else to say I was sorry.” “It worked.” “Hey Xander.” “Yeah?” “You tell anyone and I’ll have to slowly kill you.” “Fair enough."
On to Chapter 21 |
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