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 incoherent rant?

"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.

Angel. Yeah.

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.

"Yeah?"

"Angel. It's me. Spike. Guess what, you useless wanker, I'm coming home."

"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 warning, right?"

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 knee.

"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."

"Yeah."

"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 me.... "

"Sorry, I don't buy it," Angel said.

"What?"

"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 another word.

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 right."

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 you."

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 you?"

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 ignored.

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 said.

"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 working.

"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 until later."

"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 there instead."

"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 mattered.

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 walk out."

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. "M'tired."

"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 floor.

"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 are."

"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 breath.

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?"

"Uh..."

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 that..."

"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 future.

"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 Giles groan.

"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 wet-tipped.

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 appealing. "No."

"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.

End