*****

I'm jealous. I'm in love, and insanely jealous...of myself. Which must prove that vampires are crazy, or something. I'm jealous of the guy that used to live between my ears, the guy my Sire fell in love with, and is still in love with, even though I'm right here, and it doesn't feel like I ever left. Yeah, I know, demon in here, no conscience, no soul, but it still feels like me. Those are my memories--there isn't any "before"--just me, Xander Lavelle Harris. white knight and donut boy, accept no substitute...

But I am one, a substitute, I mean. There's something about the souled version of me, that I can't quite seem to imitate, and I'll be damned (quite possibly literally) if I know what it is. As far as I can tell, I'm the same as I've always been, except for, well, being dead.

I've never just come out and asked him what I'm doing wrong, but I've sort of hinted that I'd like to know if I'm getting it at least close to right. He just looks at me, and tells me that I'm doing fine, that I'm a good childe, but something about the way he says that, makes me feel like I've done something wrong.

Does having a soul really make that much of a difference?

*~*~*~*~*~*~

This is it, and I'm nervous as hell. I mean, my pulse would be racing, if I had a pulse, and I'd probably have sweaty palms. As it is, I just want to walk very quickly in the other direction. Instead, I walk up to the front door of the hotel, and knock. The door opens, and there's this biggish black guy with a crossbow pointed at me. Behind him, I can see Wesley, armed with a stake and a cross. The cross makes my skin crawl. "Hey," I say "I have an appointment, alright? Let me in." And I do...I actually buckled under, and I've called the only guy--vamp, whatever--who *might* be willing to help me, even if he does hate my guts.

Or I hate his.

I'm just beginning to wonder if the only reason Dead boy agreed to the meeting is because he planned on setting me up for being glared at by Watcher boy and Shaft, when the vamp himself appears, just behind them. "Wes, Gunn, it's alright, let him in." They hesitate for a moment, before moving aside just far enough to let me squeeze past. "Nice to see you to, Wes," I say, showing him my fangs..."How's Cordy?"

"You stay away from her," Wes says in a really sad attempt at a growl.

"Xander." Eep. Just one word from Angel, and I flinch. Sire-voice, kind of, but not quite, stronger and not. Stronger, because he's in my immediate blood line, and not, because there isn't really a bond of any kind between us, *except* through Spike, and him through Drusilla. Kind of freaky.

"Sorry," I say, and leave the direction of my apology up in the air. Angel just stares at me a moment, Wes and the other guy, Gunn, glares. I don't know why...I haven't *done* anything to them, to anyone really, Spike wouldn't let me, and I'm not stupid enough to try and take on anything that belongs to my Sire's grandsire. I grin at the last thought, I wonder what Cordy, Wes, or the black guy would say, if I told them I considered them to be *Angel's* property? Heh. "Are we gonna talk, or are we going to just stand here?" I say.

"You want to talk? Then talk. Why'd you call here to arrange this meeting?" Angel asks.

I glance at Wes and Gunn. "I called to talk to you, not these guys." Bad enough that I'm coming to *Angel* for help, be damned if I'm going to air my dirty laundry in front of a couple of humans.

"Wes? Gunn?" Angel looks kind of ...apologetic, and insistant at the same time. "This is sort of...family business." For a moment, it looks like they're going to object, then they exchange a look, and walk off together into the next room. Angel looks at me. "Alright, they're gone. Why did you call me, and where's Spike?"

And just like that, everything I had planned to say, every question I had planned to ask, just flies straight out of my head. Just blank, totally blank, and I have a feeling that I'd better come up with some material quick. Granddad wasn't looking to happy with me. So, okay, first, the easiest of the questions, where Spike is. "Last I saw of him, he was in Chicago." I say finally. After our last big fight, but I don't see any reason to mention that part to Angel. "I...um...I just thought that ummm..." I took a deep breath. "Ifiguredsinceyoursortoffamilyicouldmaybecrashhere."

Angel stares at me, like I've grown a second head, or I'm singing "Mac the Knife." Or as if I'm completely crazy, which I'm begining to think is a pretty good possibility. "You want to crash here?" He asks, as if the term "crash" is not only completely unfamiliar to him, but it has some strange and possibly emabarrassing meaning in some language known only to Angel. "Why?"

"Becauseifigure--" I stop my self, and say more slowly. "Because I figure that if you had heard I was in town, you'd be upset, and that you would be *less* upset if you knew where I was." Another deep breath. "So can I, stay here I mean?"

Angel keeps staring at me, then shakes his head. I wonder if he's thinking about that vampire tradition thing about members of a lineage having to take each other in (unless there's a good reason not to, very pragmatic, your average vampire) if one was in need of shelter, or of younger Childer being sent to other members of the immediate bloodline for further training...I'm playing off of a lot of things here, and I hope some tradition or another doesn't come and bite me on the ass in a not fun way. "Alright, you can stay," Angel says, interrupting my internal ramblings. "But if you try anything..."

"...You'll stake me, I know, I know..." I say flippantly.

*~*~*~*~*~*~

A month goes by, and the Hyperion starts to feel like home. A weird, freaky Batcave sort of home, but still home. I spend a lot of the day just exploring the old rooms, and adding to the rapidly growing list of repairs that need to be done around the place. My Inner Construction Worker has re-awakened after lying dormant for months now, and I need something to do to take my mind off...stuff.

"All right, there's just so much brooding I can take, Mister, and if I don't put up with it from Angel, I won't put up with it from you." Cordelia says, getting into my face. Cordy has apparently become jaded to the entire "creature of the night" thing. Maybe it's from working with Angel, maybe it's the entire "Sunnydale, been there, staked that," thing, but she took the whole Xander staying at the hotel concept really well. Only carried a cross and a stake around for two weeks.

"I'm *not* brooding, see, happy Xander!" I grin at her, but it doesn't look like she's buying it.

Cordelia snorts. "Yeah, sure. You lurk around and sigh a lot, but you're not brooding..."

"Hey, maybe I'm bored," I shrug, all nonchalant.

"Yeah, or maybe you're brooding...what's wrong?" She's frowning... nothing at all like Willow's Concern Face, but just as determined in it's own way.

"Um." I don't look at her. Instead, I look at my shoes, at the floor, at the walls. "Am I different? From the souled version, I mean?"

Cordelia stares at me. "Well, duh, you're a soulless blood sucking demon, of course you're different!"

I wince. "You really know how to soften the blow, Cordelia," I say snarkily. I don't sound hurt, I don't. "How am I different?"

Cordelia looks me up and down. "Well, the taste in clothing has improved," She noted.

I shrug. "Spike's fault."

"And...you're a little more confident, though I could be wrong, if you're asking me if you've changed or not." She shrugs, "Otherwise, you're pretty much the same, barring the entire soulless demon thing..." She looks at me curiously. "Why are you asking?"

I'm looking at my shoes again. "No reason...just, never mind..." I leave the room.

**Oh god--Spike, what have you done?!**
**Slayer, I had to do it, he was dying**
**He was dead already--Xander...**
**Buffy...**
**I don't want to hear it, Spike! Just go, take him--take that**
**and go!**

I shouldn't remember much, between being turned, and waking up for the first time--but the argument is stuck in my head. Buffy and Spike, shouting at each other, and Willow crying in great tearing sobs. Spike arguing that all they had to do, was restore my--restore Xander's--soul. Buffy though, she has "returned-from-the-great-beyond" issues. It wouldn't be right, to bring me--bring him--back from where ever he's gone. Willow is agreeing, though it sounds like her heart is breaking.

So not brooding.

"Do you want to talk about it?" I hadn't heard Angel come up behind me, until he spoke. Is there any point at all to having vampire senses? How the hell does someone that big sneak up on people so quietly? He's got me cornered in the suite I'd taken over when first I arrived. I'd gotten into the habit of leaving the door open, when I wasn't sleeping. Fred or Cordelia would occasionally come by and talk, or bring me blood bags for the mini-fridge, magazines or books.

I don't look up from the book I'm reading, Neil Gaiman's The High Cost of Living. "Talk about what?"

Angel walks into the room, and stands directly in front of my chair. "About why you're here."

"I told you why I'm here," I tell him. "So you won't think I'm up to something."

"There are lots of places you could have gone, where I wouldn't have wondered Xander." Angel points out casually.

"What? Am I outstaying my welcome?" Maybe I am. After all, we've never really liked each other. Xander never liked him, and Angel hadn't liked him right back. And, it's really not a clean slate we're dealing with here, because I have Xander's memories.

"I didn't say that," Angel says. Then even more casually, "what did you and Spike fight about?"

"We didn't fight," I say. Angel doesn't look convinced. It also looks like he won't leave unless I tell him something. "Alright, yeah, we had a fight."

"What about?" Angel asks reasonably.

"About Xander," I tell him. The look of total bafflement on his face is priceless.

"Huh?"

"I'm not Xander," I say, and set the book I'm reading down. "I've got his memories, and I don't feel much different from him, but I'm not him."

Angel blinks a couple times as he processes what I've just said. He steps further into the room, closing the door behind him. "That's... an interesting way to look at it," he says.

"Yeah, big shock, huh? Donut Boy putting Descartes before the horse," I say, glaring at Angel. "That's what we fought about, this little love triangle between him, me, and the soul," I take a deep, shaky breath. "Except, Spike doesn't 'love' me, he loves Xander--I'm just his childe."

Angel looks uncomfortable, opening and closing his mouth a couple of times, like he can't figure out what to say. "Well, the relationship between sire and childe can be very...close."

"Missing the point here, 'Grampa,' Spike loves the soul--he does not love the demon. The demon has all the soul's memories...and resents the hell out of being second best." I look away from Angel. "I'm just a Xander-shaped doll.

Angel comes over to where I'm sitting, and squats down by the chair. When I keep looking away from him, he grabs my chin, and moves my head around to face him. "You may not have his soul, but you have his memories," Angel says with an intense look in his eyes. "If that in some sense doesn't make you Xander, then I don't know what would." He lets me go, and sits back on his heels, looking at me. I feel hollow and achy, like I'm about to start crying...but I'm not, I can't, I won't. My eyes sting and blur.

"What about you?" I ask, blinking and rubbing at my eyes.

"What about me?" Angel asks back, the bewildered look coming back.

For a moment, I wonder what the hell I'm asking. It doesn't seem like a logical progression--my human memories, and Angel's human soul--and I'm thinking words like "logical progression," which is a sure sign that hanging around Fred is a Bad Thing. "You have a human soul, with demon memories--" I trail off, not quite sure where I'm going with this.

Angel crouches there like a gargoyle, frowning. Not a angry frown, just thoughtful, like it was something he'd never actually thought through himself. "Are you asking how the human copes with the demon? the answer is 'not very well,'" Angel says wryly. "The opposite is also true."

"That whole 'suck the world into hell' thing," I say, then wince. Way to get a sympathetic ear, Xander, bring that up.

Angel doesn't get angry, though, he just looks confused. "What do you mean?"

"Well," I say uncomfortably. "The instant the soul was gone, the demon started doing the worst things it could think of doing, trying to...undo everything the soul had done," I trail off, and Angel nods.

Angel looked thoughtful for a moment, and seemed like he was about to reply, when we both heard a shout from downstairs."Where the HELL is my Childe!" Spike! Almost immediately, I'm on my feet, though whether to run to my Sire, or away from him, I haven't a clue. "Xander!" Spike shouts, and I'm at the door before I even have time to think about it. At the same time I'm opening the door, Angel grabs me.

"No!" Angel says sharply, when I struggle. He shakes me a couple times until I go still. "Let me handle this," he says in a tone of voice that's somewhere between an offer and a command. Sire voice. I nod my head before I have time to think about it--just automatically giving Angel permission to become involved, though technically, he's been involved to begin with, since I came to him.

"Xander! I know you're up there! Get down here, NOW!" If it wasn't for Angel holding on to me, I would have just gone downstairs. This Sire-Childe thing really sucks sometimes. "What are you going to do," I ask Angel nervously. Worried. I don't want my Sire to be hurt, just because we had a fight, and I had to go run away and bring *Angel* into this mess.

Angel smirks. An expression that's entirely too "Angelussy" for me to be entirely comfortable with it. "Just let me handle this," he repeats. His hand still on my arm, he half pulls me, half guides me out of the room, and down the stairs. Spike is down in the lobby, shouting at Cordelia and Fred...? I don't believe it, but it's true --tiny little Fred is holding Spike at bay with a cross clutched in her fists, while Cordelia has a crossbow aimed for Spike's heart.

"William, what a pleasant surprise. If I'd known you were coming, I'd have carved a stake," Angel says cheerfully.

Spike growls, and starts to move forward, but Fred shoves the cross at him, and he backs away. I'm feeling a weird kind of deja-vu, here. Angel holding onto me, Spike facing him--haven't we done this before, under different circumstances?

"Hand over my Childe, Angel," Spike snarls, and tries to come forward again. Cross in face. "And tell this bint to get that thing out of my face!"

"Fred, stand aside," Angel says gently. After a moment's hesitation, Fred moves away. I notice that Angel doesn't bother to try and get Cordelia to put down her bow. Either because he wanted to keep his advantage on Spike, or, more likely, because Cordelia would ignore the order. "He's under my protection, Spike, and he doesn't want to go."

"Your protection? From what?!" Spike demands, outraged. "Xander, get over here, NOW!"

For a wonder, I manage to disobey. It helps not to look directly at him. "No." It hurts not to go to him, but I know that I have to stand my ground. Neither fear of punishment, nor my instintive need to be near my sire is going to make me budge from where I'm standing. Of course, it helps that Angel has a death grip on my arm. "I'm not going anywhere with you," I say.

Spike sputters. "You're my childe, and you'll do what I say!" He starts forward, as if he plans on coming after me, but Angel pushes me behind him, and snarls.

"You heard the boy, he's not going."

"This isn't any of your business, Angel," Spike growls, and tries to get around him. Angel blocks him, and shoves him back.

"Oh, I think it is, William," Angel says with this odd smirk. "After all, as Dru is my childe, so you are mine, as Xander is your childe, so *he* is mine."

"Like bloody hell!" Spike launches himself at Angel, but gets thrown on his ass, and bounces back up.

"Um...I don't think I want to belong to anyone here--" I interject.

They ignore me, going down in a ball of claws and fangs, like a couple of tomcats fighting. Sounds like it too, more or less. I have to do some fancy foot work to keep out of their way as they fight, rolling all over the lobby floor. I'm kind of stunned by all of this--two Master vampires *fighting* over me, like...like I don't know what. It's a little like watching your parents fight over something, but it's also kind of...fun. Kind of "Hey look, I *am* worth something to someone!" At the same time though, it's kind of creepy, because I really *don't* want to be property, that's why I ran away.

They break apart, Spike shouting. "You won't claim him, you haven't got the balls!"

"You'd be surprised what I have the balls for Will," Angel says, and laughs.

"Hey, don't I have a say in this?"

"No!" They both shout, and lunge for each other again.

I look over at Cordelia, who's put down her cross bow. "Cordy, *do* something!" I yell. You'd think she'd show a little more concern for someone she's worked with for three years! Fred at least looks worried, but she's following Cordy's lead.

"I don't get involved with family fights," Cordy says. "*Especially* Angel's family." She pulls out a "Sorry, We're Closed" sign and goes to put it up outside.

Spike at this point goes flying, and lands in a heap on the floor. I start to run over to him, instincts screaming that I need to be at his side, but Angel grabs me, and swings me up over his shoulder. Hello, Cave Vamp. I yell, and pound on his back, which has absolutely no effect, except for making Angel laugh. "Behave, boy," he says, and slaps my ass. "It's for your own good, that I'm doing this." Then he starts up the stairs, and Spike wobbles to his feet, swearing.

"Help!" I scream, and wiggle around some more, but that just gets me slapped again. Spike bellows, and lunges toward us, but Angel is already half way to his suite before Spike can even reach the stairs.

Angel is still laughing, weirdly out-of-breath sound as he reaches his suite. He locks the door behind him, and drops me on the bed like a sack of laundry. I bounce back up, but Angel's on top of me, pinning my arms above my head, and sitting on me. "Get off--mmph!" My shout is cut off as he kisses me. *Kisses* me...I'm too surprised to even think of biting him. In fact, I'm not thinking much at all, except that Angel is a pretty good kisser, and my pants are too tight. I can feel Angel's smirk as I push up against him. His expression is smug when he finally pulls away. "What was *that* for?" I say, a little breathlessly. (Which, I know, goes without saying, but work with me here...)

"How do you feel about being adopted?" Angel asks with a smirk.

"*Adopted?*" I squeak.

Angel laughs, and is about to reply, but Spike has found the suite, and is trying to break down the door. He sounds like a pissed of mountain lion--if mountain lions could swear in a half dozen human and demon languages. "Hold that thought," Angel says, reaching under the bed, and coming up with with chains--and, *so* not wanting to know the why and wherefores of Angel's bed coming equipped with manacles--and locks them around my wrists. Around that time, Spike succeeds in busting through the door. Splinters and chunks of wood go flying, and I can smell blood, from where Spike tore the skin on his knuckles.

Spike stumbles across the shattered bits of door, and barrels into Angel, Angel goes down, but soon has Spike pinned. Angel takes off his belt, and uses it to tie Spike's hands behing his back, then quickly goes over to the closet, and comes back with duct tape. Spike screams and yells and struggles, but this doesn't deter Angel very much. He tapes Spike's elbows together, his knees, and ankles. Then he takes a large strip of tape, and puts it over Spike's mouth. Angel gets back up, and admires his handiwork before turning back to me.

Eeep.

Angel's smiling. A cheerful Angelus-type smile that's actually kind of scary. "Now, where were we?" He almost purrs as he sits down next to me. He leans over, and starts kissing me again, which is nice, if still a little freaky. He starts tugging at my shirt, and I automatically lift my hips a little, so he can pull the shirt up. His hands slide up under my shirt, and a shiver a little.

"A-adopted?" I ask between kisses. "You--You don't even *like* me!"

Angel chuckles in my ear, and nips my neck lightly. "you can't pick your family," he says cheerfully. "Well, you can if you're a vampire, but even then, it's a little one sided." He pulls back, and shifts his position, so that he's straddling me. He pulls his own shirt off, and tosses it behind him. It lands on Spike, who is growling and hissing through the gag at both of us. "Technically though, as Spike's childe, you're *already* my childe--but what I have in mind is to make the relationship a little more...binding.

Spike screams through the gag at that, and tries to lunge toward the bed, belly flopping so hard that I wince in sympathy. Angel meanwhile, starts kissing me again, which pretty much drives any sympathy toward Spike right out of my head. This is insane. Angel wants to be my sire? "Binding?" I did *not* just squeak. I refuse to admit that I just squeaked.

Another chuckle, as he unfastens my pants, and pulling them down to my knees. "Binding," he repeats, and starts stroking my cock. I moan and press up against him, again. "I...claim you as my childe, you accept me as your sire, then we exchange blood," he says, some how sounding absolutely reasonable while driving me crazy. What the *hell* was Angel up to, besides the obvious? I didn't want to think about it, at that point, just wanted to feel, weird kinky vampire ritual or not.

Angel laughs, and I realize that I said that last bit out loud. I'd be blushing, if I was able to. "We don't have to go all the way," he whispers in my ear. "All we really need is an exchange of blood."

I stare up at Angel. He's looking at me with this weird, almost *hesitant* expression on his face. Bashful even. "We're um...kind of past second base here, Angel." I point out, squirming for emphasis. The expression on his face when I say that is priceless. Total suprise, followed by the wickedest grin I've ever seen.

"Is that so, boy?" He purrs as he buries his face in the crook of my neck, making me shiver when he licks my skin, and nips. His hand is still stroking my cock, and I'm thrusting up into his hips and moaning.

"Angel...*please!*"

He nips me. "Please *what* boy?" Angel growls in my ear, then reaches over me, and fumbles in the drawer of the nearby night stand, coming back with a jar of Vaseline--and so not wanting to know about why there's a jar of petroleum jelly oh-so-conveniently availible....Angel nips me again, harder. "Answer the question, boy."

"Um...please fuck me?"

He looks at me, amused and exasperated. "'Please fuck me *sire*,' you nit," he says, and opens the jar of Vaseline. He scoops some out, and starts to work it into me, smirking a little at my groans and whimpers. Then he sets the jar aside, pulls his pants off, kicks them off the bed, then pulls *my* pants the rest of the way off. He sits back and smirks, waiting.

I stare at him for a moment, what the hell is he waiting for? Oh. "Please fuck me sire?"

"*Good* boy," Angel growls as he covers me. He kisses me hard on the mouth, his tongue slipping in to carress and tease. he positions himself, then enters me. I gasp and arch up into him as he starts to thrust. Angel's mouth is on my neck, and I moan as I feel his fangs brush against my skin, then slowly, carefully sink in. It hurts, worse than accidently cutting yourself on a piece of glass, and throbs in time to Angel's thrusts, to the sound of my voice chanting Angel's name and the word "sire," over and over again, until he leans back a little, bites his own wrist, and presses it to my mouth. The rich, coppery taste of his blood sends me right over the edge. I scream into his wrist as I come, bucking up hard against him. "Mine..." Angel growls, lowering his wrist, and kissing me.

"Yours," I gasp, when he lets up on the kissing. He smirks as he pulls out, and lies beside me. I stare at him. "Um...what about you?"

"What about me?" He asks, amused.

"Um...you didn't...come," I say, wondering if I should offer to correct the problem. Angel just smirks at me.

"Don't worry about it, childe," he says, and unlocks the cuffs around my wrists. "Now get dressed, and go to your room."

I find myself obeying immediately--no compulsion to it at all, I'm just kind of in a daze--I get dressed, and head to the door. Then stop. I look back, looking between Angel and Spike, who's now curled up on the floor eyes squeezed shut, and looking like he's trying not to cry. "Angel...sire?" I'm somewhere between *please don't hurt him,* and *what do I do now* but I don't quite know how to say either, or both. It's too big and strange--a complete change in *something* but I don't know what it is.

"Don't worry about it Xander, everything will be fine," Angel says, more firmly. I nod and finally obey.

I hope he's right.

~fin~