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"Oi, sitting right here, ya wankers," complained an indignant Spike. "Who is this Gorge character, you’re comparin me to? There’s only one a me." "He’s my father," replied Tomas proudly, and waited until Spike took another swallow before adding with a teasing glint in his eyes ", and Xander’s Uncle." Spike choked and spewed liquor out his nose, Tomas jumped up and pounded on his back a little too enthusiastically. "Enough," he bellowed as soon as he could draw some air ",ya did that on purpose ya git. And what do ya mean Xander’s Uncle?" Tomas put on his most innocent face when he replied ", would I do that to you? Are you sure you’re okay? I could pat your back some more." Spike narrowed his eyes at Tomas and growled "; yes you would ya brat, yes, and no ta ever so much. And what the buggering fuck do ya mean Xander’s Uncle? The only kin I know he’s got are those two sorry sacks o’ blood that he was reared by. His bloody fool Da has a brother, that goes by the name of Rory r’ some such. The granddame is dead. I never heard that his Mother, the bitch, had any living kin. The boy doesn’t have any other family I’ve heard about." Tomas shifted uncomfortably in his chair, and a rosy blush colored his face. Spike watched fascinated by all that lovely blood rushing to the surface. He grinned and sat back in his chair. He’d never been able to embarrass Tomas before, so he wondered at the blush now. Tomas’ color just deepened to a red. "Now what’s got you all lathered up, Tomas?" he teased unmercifully. He’d show the little brat, pat on the back indeed! Tomas muttered to himself about stupid vampires and what do they know anyway, and then spoke up in a clear voice. ", I’m not sure I should say anything here, it is part and parcel of all the rest. It’s kind of hard to explain that part without getting into all the rest." Spike sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face, and took another long swallow of his drink before he answered that. "Okay, let’s just leave it for now, yeah. It’s just one more thing piled on top of all the other shite I’ve had to deal with tonight. And where is Sinjin? Did he have ta drive to China to get the bloody car?" He snarked impatiently, he was ready for this night to be over with, but he knew it was not nearly done. Chapter 9: Companions 7 Back to index Disclaimer: all characters belong to their original creators. I am making no profit from them. All original characters are mine. Any resemblance to persons living or deceased is purely coincidental. No harm is intended to any person real, created, living, deceased, or any financial/corporate entity by the publication of this story. It is a fiction, therefore a product of my imagination only and should not be construed as a reflection on the character, personality, sexual preferences or religious beliefs of any real person or place, living or deceased, actual or created. Spike sighed deeply and ran a hand over his face, and took another long swallow of his drink before he answered that. "Okay, let’s just leave it for now, yeah. It’s just one more thing piled on top of all the other shite I’ve had to deal with tonight. And where is Sinjin? Did he have ta drive to China to get the bloody car?" He snarked impatiently, he was ready for this night to be over with, but he knew it was not nearly done. ************************************************************************ Spike stared unseeing out of the rear window of the car as it rolled through town, absently noting somewhere in the back of his mind the ever present "missing person" posters fluttering on poles here and there along the street and the demonic counterparts he could just make out in the dimness of alleyways. They were the last ditch efforts of frantic loved ones human and not, who had tried everything else and had no idea what else to do, except to nail the signs of their pain and loss on objects to be viewed by
the public at large, hoping that some stranger could tell them where to find that lost one that had left a hole in their existence, that could be filled by no other. He knew that most of them would never be found, human or other. Between the demons killing the humans, the initiative and the Slayer, there was very little hope for human or nonhuman to recover those lost. But that was the nature of love; he had experienced, to keep hoping even when there was no reason at all to hope. To keep on keeping on, until the last breath was drawn on this earth or until you met the sunrise and ended all the painful hope, and all the piercing sharp edged sense of loss and longing. And maybe, just maybe sometimes, that one chance in a million would occur and that lost one would be found, the hope would be fulfilled and the pain would be transformed into joy as longing was replaced by having again. He looked down at the head of sable hair resting in his lap, and ran his pale fingers through the silken strands, feeling the unnatural heat even through thick soft mass of it. His ship had come in, his wish was granted, he had hit the jackpot, he had won the lottery, gotten his one in a million against all odds and he was never going to let it go. His days of longing and not finding were over. Xander, his bright hope, and a conundrum, a puzzle of a thousand pieces to which he hadn’t found the solution to. The shapes and the number of pieces kept changing in an endlessly fascinating kaleidoscope, meshing then parting to come together again in new and surprising combinations. The boy had grown tremendously this summer. Left to his own devices and free of the influence of the Slayer and company, he had begun to see the world through different eyes, developed his own code of honor and justice, and made up his own mind about what was right and wrong, good and evil. He had slowly and surely changed the filters through which he viewed his world, learned about tolerance, and that everything different wasn’t evil and worthy only of death. He had come to realize human didn’t equate with good no matter what, and that there were humans and demons that were worthy of death, just as there were humans and demons worthy of life. Possessing a soul didn’t insure goodness and not having one didn’t insure the being was evil, and there were souls in other beings that were different, not unworthy. He relaxed back into the seat, and closed his eyes, letting the feel Xander’s hair under his stroking fingers sooth him and segued into a favorite memory. Pride and joy filled him to overflowing as the memory played against the dark screen of his closed eyelids. ************************************************************************ Xander had been giving him nervous looks all night from behind the bar and he was jittering, no other word for it, that nervous activity you engage in when inactivity lets you think too much. Spike was well acquainted with both the nervousness and the symptoms, having experienced the same himself many times over in his long unlife. The boy had been doing alright most of the night serving drinks and bantering with the customers. The closer it came to closing time however, the more jittery the boy got, and he wondered what had him in such a lather. Spike had been sitting there at a table close to the bar with his JD and his shot glass, his fags and his lighter on the table, his duster thrown carelessly over another chair, watching the boy work. He’d sated his gnawing hunger for violence and blood earlier in the evening with a small nest of fledges, he hadn’t killed them, not immediately anyway. He’d played with them, punched and kicked, broken their bones and sliced into them with abandon. He reveled in the blood, pain and fear that flowed freely, sweetly. Then his violent urges satisfied, they were disabled enough to rifle each one for valuables before dusting them, and in two cases drain them dry. Then he searched through the lair. He had come away with a nice bit of change, a few baubles he could sell or keep if he wanted, and a free meal. And then he nicked three cartons of good cigarettes, shoved deep into the pockets of his duster, from a locked case left carelessly open by an employee at the Local Yokel. The human had been working the late shift alone and was overwhelmed by a sudden rush of customers, and in his
Page 1 and 2: Companions by wolfmama Summary: Xan
Page 3 and 4: He chuckled again as he quickly pul
Page 5 and 6: and death so close still causing it
Page 7 and 8: They had carved out small rooms wit
Page 9 and 10: working. She unwrapped the bundle a
Page 11 and 12: Potter’s field. There was no one
Page 13 and 14: disappointed with him again, if the
Page 15 and 16: laced up the front and had diamond
Page 17 and 18: should be, but all the good and non
Page 19 and 20: Chapter 6: Companions 4 Back to ind
Page 21 and 22: needed attention and needed it quic
Page 23: fumbling in his pockets for his fag
Page 27 and 28: tape showing the night’s sales. H
Page 29 and 30: chest, and then he continued. "I ca
Page 31 and 32: different route to the fortress eve
Page 33 and 34: old as, or even older, than the Mas
Page 35 and 36: into the wild to live or die by the
Page 37 and 38: all inclusive and words can’t exp
Page 39 and 40: get there." "The last time I saw Al
Page 41 and 42: ound the bend?" "The clothes, Spike
Page 43 and 44: unning over his naked form and his
Page 45 and 46: Spike’s hand felt around the floo
Page 47 and 48: around his neck and wrapped his lon
Page 49 and 50: Xander finally broke away to catch
Page 51 and 52: tip of it in. Xander ’s back was
Page 53 and 54: They both missed the bright light t
Page 55 and 56: pot, because we may be busy later.
Page 57 and 58: sprang open, then it sighed through
Page 59 and 60: and sighed heavily. "Reckon we can
Page 61 and 62: over his shoulder and played with t
Page 63 and 64: human blood since he gets it for hi
Page 65 and 66: nervous system is rewiring itself,
Page 67 and 68: Xander’s face was a study in conf
Page 69 and 70: "Alright let’s get this done, so
Page 71 and 72: drastic." Andy reported tiredly. "B
Page 73: weight and silkiness of it caressin

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