Saturation - Chapter 12
written by Jane Davitt & WesleysGirl
Spike stared at the
bottle of vodka he was half-way down, clamped in
his left hand, and the phone he'd dragged off the table by the bed into
his lap. Decisions, decisions... one more drink before he started
dialing, or would that tip him over the edge so that his
carefully-rehearsed insults, honed over the last few hours, became an
"You're a total fucking tosser," he said experimentally to the empty
air of the hotel room. Sounded all right to him.
The hours of walking, drinking, and putting as much distance as
possible between him and the house had dulled nothing of the pain he'd
felt as the door had slammed behind him. Nothing. He only had to think
of the pair of them betraying him, laughing at him, not loving him like
he'd thought they did, and a raw agony ripped through him, leaving him
wishing he'd stayed dust in the alley. Too fucking much. Every single
fucking time he thought he'd got something right it was taken from him.
"Never bloody learn," he whispered. "Stupid, stupid boy..."
He was too drunk to remember just when Angel had said that to him the
first time, but he could remember the last time he'd had those words
flung at him, Angel's eyes dark with misery and malice as he pointed at
a ticket to England.
Spike's finger stabbed down hard, pressing out a number he knew off by
heart. It rang three times, and then a sleepy voice answered.
"Angel. It's me. Spike. Guess what, you useless wanker, I'm coming
"What the fuck are you talking about?" Angel said.
Spike frowned at his feet, wriggling his toes inside his boots, toes
which were starting to feel numb. "Seemed pretty clear to me. Sitting
here in a hotel near the airport and I'm coming back to fuck up your
life the way you've fucked up mine. Seems fair to give you a bit of
He wasn't sure he wanted to go back to the States, but it was starting
to seem like a good idea. Not like he had anywhere else to go.
"Yeah," Angel said. "I appreciate that. Because this way I can tell you
not to come."
"It's not up to you," Spike said. "You're the one that sent me here.
Fucked everything up."
"That makes twice you've said that. What's fucked up?" Angel asked.
"Everything," Spike said bluntly, letting an ounce of vodka slide down
his throat and shuddering. "And whose fault is it? Yours, mate, that's
who. How about you sending me over to Giles? Get a taste for torturing
him, did you? Felt like making him suffer a bit more? Or maybe it was
Xander you were trying to hurt. Yeah. Never liked you, did he? Bet that
had to stick in your fucking throat."
"I just wanted to get you out of my hair. I didn't even know Xander was
there." Angel sounded irritated. "Anyway, they sounded happy enough
about having you around when they called me."
"When they what?" Spike said, resting the bottom of the bottle on his
"They didn't tell you? They called me the next day after the last time
we talked. Yelled at me, pretty much. Said that they were both in love
with you and that if I called again they wouldn't let me talk to you,
not even to apologize -- not that I was going to do that anyway."
"They did what?" Spike shook his head, not caring that Angel couldn't
see him. "What are you trying to pull, Angel? Why would they do that?
They don't love me. Never did. Want to celebrate being right 'gain?
Like fucking always?"
Angel's voice was surprisingly gentle now. "Yeah, well... it sure as
hell sounded to me like they love you. They were pretty pissed off at
me, that's for sure. So... it turns out I was wrong about that. Just
don't let it go to your head."
"Won't," Spike said, feeling the words gather and spill from his mouth,
bypassing his brain. "Won't, because they've stopped. Don't love me any
more, and why the hell should they?" He sighed. "Got each other.
Don't need me. Don't want me. Proved it today."
"They came right out and said it?" Angel asked.
"Well... no." Hadn't needed to, had they.
Angel made a frustrated sound. "Look -- I don't have time to talk you
through this, and I don't really care what you do as long as you
don't come back here."
"It's your fault," Spike said with as much clarity as possible. "And
you can bloody well listen while I tell you why, or I'll pack this
fucking phone in my carry-on bag and the first thing I'll do when I see
you is shove it so far up your self-centered arse you'll call Australia
every time you sit down on said fat, fucking arse, okay?"
"Fine," Angel said, sighing. "Tell me why it's all my fault."
As soon as Angel said that, Spike stopped knowing why. It'd seemed
really clear in his head, but now it'd gone fuzzy. Like the room. He
missed his glasses, even if they did make him look like a prat, he was
sure of it.
"If you hadn't sent me here, I'd never have fallen in love with the
pair of them, would I?" he said sullenly. "Never mind that, though-"
Angel made an exasperated sound, but Spike ignored it. "Why did you
call me, anyway? Never did find out." Spike flexed his hand,
remembering how it'd hurt. "Made me so fucking angry I put my fist
through a wall. Don't recommend it when you're human. Xander was doing
up the buttons on my shirt for two days afterwards, because my fingers
wouldn't bend right."
There was a pause, during which Spike was aware of the sound of his own
breathing and the utter silence on the other end of the line. He knew
that Angel, with his vampire senses, would be able to hear him
breathing, and he wondered how that felt. "I don't know why I called,"
Angel said. "I was drunk. Wanted to see what you were up to."
"I'm drunk and I called you because I was miserable," Spike told him, a
flicker of curiosity kindling. "Why were you
drinking? Not like you found out people you love have been screwing
'round behind your back. Not like you found out they'd been lying to
you." He thought about taking another drink, sighed, and put the bottle
down. Didn't taste good any more. "And since when did you give a rat's
arse about what I was getting up to, as long as I was doing it far, far
away?" He sighed again. "Am a long way away, aren't I, Angel? You
missing me yet? You think they'll miss me?"
"God, what time did you start drinking?" Angel asked. "Actually, what
time is it there? No, never mind. It doesn't matter. And they're not
going to miss you because you're not going anywhere. What do you mean,
screwing around behind your back?"
Loyalty to Giles and Xander kept Spike silent for a moment before he
remembered that they didn't deserve it any more. "Came home. Found 'em
fucking, didn't I? Not s'posed to be home. Didn't think I would be.
Planned it." He was running out of words now and feeling tired, with
the tears anger had held at bay beginning to form in his eyes.
"Couldn't wait for me to go, so they could be by themselves again. Just
them. That's how they want it."
"Wait," Angel said, sounding confused. "You came home and they were
having sex together Just the two of them?"
"Yeah," Spike said.
"But I thought they were, you know, together before you showed up."
"I'm not seeing how that's screwing around on you. Did they
tell you they wanted you to leave?" Angel asked.
"Didn't give 'em chance," Spike said coldly. "Heard them, together, in
our bed, when they were supposed to be at work.
Contrary to what some people think, I know when I'm not wanted, and I
got the hell out of there. Probably not the first time it's happened
either. Bastards. All they had to do was say. Didn't
have to lie about it, make me look stupid. Laugh at
"Sorry, I don't buy it," Angel said.
"I don't buy that two people who called me up to yell at me for
upsetting you -- two people who told me more than once that they were
in love with you -- not just that they cared about
you -- suddenly don't give a shit." Angel sounded a hell of a lot
calmer than Spike felt. "Sounds to me like you ought to give them a
chance to explain."
"Fuck off," Spike snarled, refusing to let himself admit that there was
a possibility Angel was right. "Like you're such an expert on either of
them. Wouldn't have sent me to them if you'd thought for one minute I'd
have ended up happy, would you? You thought they'd kick me out. Thought
they'd hate me. You wanted them to hate me."
"You're not making any sense, you know."
Spike bit his lip hard enough to hurt, hard enough that he felt it.
"Never bloody do, do I? God, I hate this. Should be there with them
now. Tucked up between them. That's where they put me, y'know. Sleep
between them, and doesn't matter which way I wake up, there's always
one of them there, smiling at me and kissing me, and you've no idea
what they're like, Angel. Wear me out, they do, but it's not just that.
Not just the sex, though God that's so fucking good. We talk and they
take care of me. Look after me... God, why did they have to do that to
me? Doesn't make sense. Does it make sense to you, Angel?"
"You're the one talking crazy," Angel said. He sounded bored, and Spike
thought suddenly that he was wasting his time. Angel didn't care about
him any more than Giles and Xander did. Possibly less. So why was he
talking to him? Why didn't he have someone else to talk to, someone who
did care? Was he really just that fucked up that he
couldn't even have a friend?
Spike drank another huge swallow of vodka and almost dropped the bottle
as he choked. "I hate you," he told Angel, conversationally.
"Yeah, well, I hate you, too," Angel said. "Which brings us back to the
question of why you called me."
Spike took great, savage pleasure in hanging up on Angel without
And less pleasure in realizing that he didn't know what the fuck he was
going to do tomorrow, and he'd left everything he owned back at the
house. He couldn't even storm off properly, could he. God, he didn't
even have his passport! So much for all his threats to visit Angel.
Maybe he could hang around outside the house tomorrow; wait for Giles
and Xander to go to work, and then he could collect his things.
Assuming they weren't already dumped on the step, of course.
In the silence of the room, Angel's words started to play back in his
head, bringing a frown to his face. So they'd phoned him, had they?
Something else they hadn't told him. He went from being angry that they
thought he couldn't deal with a prat like Angel by himself to wishing
he'd been there to hear them lay into him. Xander was almost as good as
Spike was as the jabs that hit home hard, and Giles knew just how to
get under Angel's skin with that lethal politeness of his.
"Bet they made you fucking squirm," he muttered. "Serves you bloody
The faint glow from picturing that encounter faded fast. Still didn't
excuse what they'd done. He remembered them on the bed together again
and his hand tightened into a fist, hearing an echo of Giles' voice,
hoarse and passionate, Xander's answering groan of pure pleasure. If
he'd been there, he'd have been close to coming just from that, the way
the pair of them sounded when they were close. Few nights ago it'd been
him Giles was pounding into, every stroke driving him towards coming so
hard his fingers ached afterwards from the hold he'd had on the sheets,
twisted in his hands.
Warm and slow, the tears gathered and fell from his eyes, blurring the
room still further.
The knock at the door was so sudden and unexpected that Spike twitched,
but he ignored it. He'd paid for the room, it was his, he could use it
as he bloody well pleased.
Another knock, more insistent. Familiar. And then Giles' voice in the
hallway. "Spike? Open the door."
"No," Spike said hoarsely. His heart was pounding in his chest, though.
Gave him away, even to himself.
"Do you want us to break it down?" Xander.
Slowly, reluctantly, Spike got up, gripping the neck of the vodka
bottle in his hand as he went over to the door and pulled it open just
enough so that it was unlatched.
Giles' hand curled around the edge of the door, meaning that Spike
couldn't slam it without hurting him. "Spike, we're coming in no matter
what you want, so I suggest you step back and let us."
"Spike, please," Xander said, sounding desperate. "We have to talk to
Spike stepped away from the door and walked over to the bed, turning
his back on them both. He lay down again, still not looking at them.
"Right. You're in. Now what? Come to make sure I'm leaving? Needn't
worry. I'll get my stuff tomorrow and be out of your way -- oh." He
glanced up at them. "That's why you're here, is it? Brought my kit with
Looking at them was a mistake. Xander was pale, his eyes huge in his
face, and Giles looked furious and loving at one and the same time,
which was a combination that got to Spike on too many levels to be
Xander came right over and got down on his knees on the floor so that
his face was on level with Spike's. "We came to bring you home," he
"Place is your home, not mine," Spike said. Fuck, he didn't even have a
space that was his in that house, other than a drawer in Giles' chest
of drawers and the sometimes use of the kitchen table when he was
"That's not true," Xander said. "Maybe things haven't been perfect,
maybe we screwed some stuff up..." He glanced up at Giles. "But it
is your home. Because it's ours, and we need you."
"Yeah? Didn't seem that way this afternoon. You seemed to be managing
fine without me." Spike managed a sneer, hoping they couldn't see that
he'd been crying. "Didn't even hear me come in, did you? Course, you
weren't expecting me to be home. Lot of that going around, right?
Because I sure as hell got the impression you two wouldn't be around
"My meeting was cancelled at the last minute," Giles said quietly. "I
went home hoping to find you there, actually. It was
a coincidence that Xander's building had a power outage and he was
"We didn't plan it, if that's what you're thinking," Xander added,
reaching for Spike's hand and looking hurt when Spike pulled it away.
"It just... happened."
Giles made an impatient sound. "Xander, you're not to apologize for
what we did." Spike stared up into Giles' face, feeling indignant.
Bugger wasn't even going to say sorry?
"Spike," Giles said, his voice tight with what seemed to be anger, and
maybe a bit of hurt, "there's obviously been a misunderstanding here. I
can't say that I'm pleased with your way of dealing with it, but let's
get one thing straight, since you and Xander both seem to share the
same erroneous belief. There's nothing wrong about two of us making
love when the other isn't around. It isn't a betrayal of any sort, and
I'm still trying to work out how you two got it into your heads that it
was." Giles sat down on the bed, close to where Xander was kneeling,
his face softening a little. "I like the idea that if I'm not there,
Xander's got you. In every way. To talk to, to be with -- and yes, to
make love with. Why not? We're in a relationship, for God's sake." He
reached out to touch the back of his hand to Xander's face, the loving
familiarity of the gesture making Spike's eyes sting with sharp tears
he blinked away quickly. "This whole thing began because you two
couldn't keep your hands off each other; do you really think I expected
that to change?"
"Wasn't his fault," Spike said, because somehow it was easier to talk
to Giles like Xander wasn't right there. "Was right there, wasn't I?
Doesn't surprise me after all this time that people want me. Want
this" He ran the hand Xander had tried to hold over
his chest and belly to cup his wholly uninterested cock. "Shouldn't
have surprised me to find out that that was all you
wanted. And then that you didn't even want that anymore." He couldn't
look at either of them.
"You know what, Spike? Fuck you." Xander stood up and spat the words
out like he hated Spike, and even though that hurt, it didn't seem
wrong. "We -- I want you. And not just for the sex.
You're the one that's running away, pushing us away.
So don't blame this on us." He reached over and wrenched the bottle of
vodka out of Spike's hand and took it to the other side of the room,
setting it down on the desk hard enough that for a second Spike thought
he might have broke it. Then Xander came back over to the bed, climbed
onto it and Spike, straddling Spike's waist even as Spike struggled to
get away, to get out from under.
Xander's mouth came down hard on his, bruising, not letting up. At
first Spike fought it, then, when it became obvious there was no point,
he went limp, not participating. As soon as that happened, Xander's
lips became soft, coaxing, Xander's hands on Spike's face cradling it,
and Spike felt a sob well up in his chest.
"Don't hurt him any more," Giles murmured. Spike wasn't sure which of
them Giles was talking to, but the thought of Xander being hurt by him
wasn't one he could live with. Surrender was easier than he'd imagined
with Xander's mouth kissing away his bewildered resentment and hurt,
and he found himself hugging Xander fiercely, kissing him back until
Xander broke the kiss and smiled down at him.
"Xander," Spike whispered. "Oh fuck, I'm sorry, love."
"Does that mean you won't do it again?" Xander asked. "Because when you
didn't come home..."
"I won't do it again," Spike promised rashly. "Not if you still want
me." He was elated, astonished, hopeful. He wanted to take both of them
in his arms and hold them, touch them, reassure himself that this
moment was real.
"How could you think that we didn't?" Giles asked, sounding mildly
exasperated. "You really don't listen very well, you know."
Spike struggled to sit up, helped by Xander moving off his lap to sit
beside him. "Giles -" he said, looking at him doubtfully, knowing how
Giles reacted when Xander was upset and not sure if Giles was still too
annoyed with him to be in the mood to be hugged.
"I love you. I want you. I was worried," Giles said gently. "Now stop
crying and come here."
"'M not crying," Spike said with as much dignity as he could manage,
moving closer to Giles.
Giles' mouth gave the little twitch that meant he was trying not to
smile, and he brushed his fingers across Spike's cheek and held them
up. "Yes, you are." He brought his wet fingertips to his lips, kissed
them and pressed them against Spike's lips. "Stop. Please?"
"I didn't know," Spike said, genuinely surprised, but then he was in
Giles' arms, and Giles was kissing him, and none of the rest of it
Xander curled around him from behind, kissing the back of Spike's neck,
one arm around his waist. "We love you," Xander murmured. "Both of us.
I love you, just as much as I love Giles."
"And we're stubborn," Giles said, drawing back just far enough to meet
Spike's gaze. "We aren't going to let you go."
"That's right," Xander said. "You're stuck with us."
"If that's what you want," Giles clarified, as though he was worried
they were coming on too strong, although he hadn't needed to. Hearing
them say that made Spike feel loved, and they couldn't say it often
enough for him. "We can talk about it more, sort things out -- anything
we need, but just -- don't go."
"You called Angel," Spike said, remembering. "Shouted at him."
Giles and Xander exchanged glances.
"Yeah, we did," Xander said. "Do you mind?"
"Mind?" Spike shook his head. "I was surprised, though."
"We don't want him hurting you anymore," Xander said. "We don't want
anyone hurting you. Including us. Which means if we
do something stupid, you have to tell us. Not just
Spike turned his head and rubbed his cheek against Xander's in
agreement. He was exhausted suddenly, the combination of the day's
emotions and all the vodka stretching him thin and almost dizzy. He
clung to Giles' shirt front with his hand, not wanting to let go.
"Yeah, I'll bet you are," Xander said sympathetically. "Here, lie down.
Giles, get his shoes?" Spike felt Xander's hand disentangling his own
from Giles' shirt and he whimpered -- he couldn't help it. "Shh. It's
okay," Xander said, lying down and pulling Spike into his arms, holding
him tightly as Giles took off Spike's boots and dropped them onto the
"Don't go away?" Spike said, his voice muffled against Xander's neck.
"We won't," Giles said from behind him, arms warm and comforting, his
chest pressed to Spike's back. "Get some sleep. We'll both be here when
you wake up."
Reassured, Spike slept.
"You're scraping the wall!" Giles said, wincing as he watched a curl of
wallpaper flutter down, gouged out by a corner of the chest of drawers
Spike and Xander were trying to carry up the stairs.
"It's heavy," Xander said, his face flushed. "Built to last."
Spike paused long enough to give him a fond look, and then adjusted his
hold on the piece of furniture. "Course it will, love. Hundred years
from now, it'll be worth a fortune. An original Harris."
"Hey, less with the mocking," Xander said, taking a careful step
backwards as Giles held his breath. This time the angle was right and
there was a clear inch between the chest of drawers and the wall.
"I'm serious," Spike protested. "You're good at this, Xander. Really
"He is," Giles agreed, following them up the stairs to the spare room
and watching them maneuver the chest of drawers into place against the
far wall. "That's perfect." He pursed his lips. "Well, possibly a
little to the left?"
"I'm going with 'perfect'," Spike said firmly. "And if you want it
moved, you can shift it yourself, Giles."
The location of the chest didn't matter, Giles decided. What mattered
was the happy smile Spike was wearing as he looked at it, his own piece
of furniture. A piece of furniture that Xander had made specifically
for him. The look of surprise and pleasure on Spike's face when he'd
first seen it down at Xander's shop two hours before had made the hours
of work more than worth it, Xander had confided to Giles under his
They'd decided to move all three of their chests into the spare room,
making it into a sort of dressing area and leaving just a small chest
and the closet for their bedclothes. The space this had freed up had
left enough room in the bedroom for a writing desk near the window, and
a brand new desk lamp, still in its box, was sitting on the floor
beside the comfortable chair Giles had ordered through work. It was
Spike's very own work space, where he could spread out his papers and
not have to clear them every time they had a meal. Xander and Giles had
discussed it in private and decided to let Spike choose whether to have
the desk in the spare room or the bedroom, and Spike had quickly said
he'd prefer the bedroom, then gone on to demonstrate why it was his
favorite room in the house by drawing them both down onto the bed and
removing their clothes piece by piece.
Kneeling on the floor and opening the bottom drawer, Spike put the
jeans Xander handed him in and shut it again. "This really is
beautiful, love," he said, running his fingers over the glowing wood.
Xander beamed. "I'm glad you like it."
"Maybe you could teach me how to do it," Spike went on. "Could start
off small. A little box, or something?"
Giles rescued Xander, repressing a shudder at the thought of the damage
Spike could do to himself if let loose with a saw, hammer and nails.
"Did you have any interests when you were younger, Spike?" He thought
of the neglected garden behind the house and said hopefully,
"Gardening, perhaps? I seem to recall the Victorians were very keen on
"Because I react so well to spending time in the great outdoors?" Spike
said, rolling his eyes. It was true that he sunburned absurdly easily,
and it was still a struggle to get him to spend any time outside as he
adjusted to sunlight exposure again. "Nah. I'm busy enough," he said,
but there was something wistful in his voice that had Giles filing away
this conversation as something that should be revisited in the near
"It looks good in here," Xander said, hands on hips as he surveyed the
room. The bed was still there, although they'd talked about replacing
it with a couch or something else that would take up a bit less space.
"It does," Giles agreed. He stared at the bed and then smiled, going
over to it and sitting down, bouncing on it experimentally. "You're the
only one who's ever slept on this bed, Xander. Is it comfortable?"
"Not bad," Xander said with a grin. "I wasn't in it for long. You
seduced me and lured me next door, remember?"
Spike chuckled. "Can't blame him for that." He stood up and went to
Xander, giving him a quick kiss and then taking his hand and drawing
him over to the bed to join Giles. "I'm having trouble imagining you
two saying good night and toddling off to separate rooms, though."
"God, it was awful!" Giles said, remembering those early weeks. He
turned to them, reaching out for Xander's hand and leaning against
Spike, who slipped an arm around him at once. "I used to lie there for
hours, wishing I had the courage to knock on your door and say
something about how I felt. I'd picture you in bed and feel so guilty
for wanting you -" He shook his head. "And you wondered why I was so
irritable in the mornings."
"I thought you just didn't want me around," Xander said, grinning,
because they'd had this conversation before and it amused them now.
"How'd it happen the first time?" Spike asked. His hand slid up the
inside of Giles' thigh slowly, tantalizingly.
"Oh, you know," Xander said. "He just couldn't resist me."
"I kissed him," Giles said. "When he was washing dishes at the sink.
His hands were wet and covered in soap suds, and I'd been standing
there behind him, watching his arse as he shifted his weight from one
foot to the other, and I couldn't bear it anymore."
"He kissed me, and then I kissed him back, and the next thing you know,
my hands were on his ass." Xander was smiling as he remembered it.
"And then he just had to take off his trousers, because they were all
wet," Spike guessed, not far off the mark. His fingers had slid higher,
pressing against Giles' growing erection. "And he put this to good use."
"Not then," Giles said, breathing a little faster because of the look
on Xander's face as he stared down at Spike's hand as much as what that
hand was doing. Giles had to admit that it was a kink he shared. Spike
wasn't keen on watching the two of them for long without joining in,
but Giles doubted he'd ever get tired of seeing Spike and Xander kiss
and touch and fuck, and Xander always got that intense, aroused look
when Giles was with Spike. "Later, yes, but then -- God, Spike! -- I
just pushed him against the table and went down on him, and I came just
from tasting him for the first time."
Giles arched against Spike's palm, gasping as Spike's hand rubbed
slowly along his length. "Have you forgotten how to take down a zip?"
he demanded, wanting to feel Spike's hand on his bare skin.
Spike shook his head, clicking his tongue in a reproving way. "That
sound impatient to you, Xan?" he said. "Remember what Giles did last
time I was in a rush?"
"Eager," Giles said. "Not impatient; eager. Quite different."
Spike didn't seem particularly inclined to tease just then -- his
fingers were already pulling down Giles' zip and sliding inside Giles'
boxer shorts to touch his cock. "And this was the first cock you ever
had inside you," Spike said to Xander, squeezing the tip and making
"Yup," Xander said, watching.
"First one you ever had in your mouth," Spike murmured, sliding to his
stomach and giving Xander a perfect view of Giles' cock getting a
leisurely lick from Spike's tongue that left it quivering and
Giles glanced up at Xander, whose eyes were dark with longing, whose
lips were slightly parted, then back down at Spike as his tongue slid
up the length of Giles' shaft again, toying with the foreskin. Giles'
stomach muscles tightened as he waited.
"Yeah," Xander answered hoarsely.
"Wouldn't mind being your first something," Spike said, bending his
head to suck on the tip of Giles' cock for just an instant, an instant
that had Giles panting. Spike looked at Xander. "Ever been tied up?"
"What?" Xander blinked in what had to have been surprise. "No."
"What about fisted?" Spike asked.
Xander was wide-eyed in a way that Giles had to admit was particularly
"Good," Spike said, bending his head and breathing warm air over Giles'
cock. "Gives us something to aim for, doesn't it."
"What about you?" Giles said, trying to get out of his shorts and pants
without disturbing Spike in any way. "Is there something we can do to
you that no one else has?"
Spike paused, his hand wrapped around Giles' cock, and smiled at them
both. "Keep loving me?"
"We can do that," Xander told him.
"Good enough for me," Spike said softly.