*****

It had been a fairly good night. At least, as far as Spike was concerned. The Slayer and the witches had been going out of thier way to try and make Xander feel as if he was still welcome, still wanted. And by extension, they were much nicer and accommodating to *him* as well.

Spike wasn't used to people being friendly to him. Most of his interactions with people involved either large amounts of fear, hate or disgust and the conversations were peppered with pleanty of threats and insults. However, that had all changed. The witches had presented him and his childe with matching coffee mugs, both of which proclaimed "I don't do mornings." on them. Giles had sat him down and quizzed him on different types of animal blood; which tasted best, which was the most nutritional, how long did the blood stay fresh after the kill. Buffy had helped them move Xander's things over from his parent's basement to Spike's crypt and then get everything all set up.

It was...odd. Spike enjoyed it...but he didn't trust it. Intellectually he knew that everyone was being nice to him for Xander's benefit. His childe had a soul, yes, but that didn't change the fact that Spike was his Sire and all fledglings were bound to their Sire. He knew that down deep, Xander could feel that connection of blood. Spike could see it shinning out of his childe's eyes at times. In the way that Xander looked at him, listened to him, fought with him.

They had pretty much fallen into a simple ruitine. Fledglings needed that. Spike remembered that from his own first nights with Dru, Darla and Angelus. The Irish Ponce would set up a training and learning schedule for him and Dru constantly buggered it up by wanting to play or have sex. It was a time went he needed, even *craved* guidance and attention because his whole world had been turned topsy-turvy. Granted, his childe knew a lot about vampires before he was even turned, but the change itself was so intense and all consuming that he was essentially a whole new person.

They generally awoke before sunset, ate a microwaved breakfast and then settled into a training session. The boy was getting pretty good at fighting. Spike was sort of surprised that no one had seen his potential and tried to teach him the proper moves and countermoves before. Of course, even if they had, he would still have to take Xander through this training. He was faster now. Stronger and his senses and reflexes were sharper and faster. Xander needed to learn his much expanded limits as well as he knew them as a human. So, they sparred, they tracked mice through the tunnels, they raced and they trained.

After the sun was down, they headed off to the Magic Box. Despite all his arguments that vampire's didn't work for an unliving, Xander insisted that he "pay his own way" and since he couldn't work at the construction site anymore, he worked at the Magic Box. He did inventory, he moved things around, he built any shelving or cabinets needed, he swept and mopped the floor and dusted and polished the furniture and merchandise. He worked the register when customers came in and just generally made himself useful.

The little money he made was spent to pay for the gas that ran Spike's generator at the crypt and to buy cigarettes and chocolate. The generator didn't provide electricity for much, just the telly, the mini fridge and the new space heater. Xander *loved* the space heater and complained that he was cold whenever he wasn't near it.

And of course, whenever there was a new evil in town, the two of them went with the Slayer and the witches to help fight it. Those were the times that Spike enjoyed best. That's when his childe truly made him proud. Xander's would shift to gameface almost instantly since he hadn't yet learned to control that very well, so he would spend the entire fight with his lovely ridges showing and his beautiful fangs flashing as he snarled and growled at his enemies. And his deep dark eyes would slowly swirl into the most perfect shade of gold that Spike had ever seen. Spike, who had over a century's worth of control under his belt, would often find himself in gameface as an unconscious response to his childe's lovely face.

Yet still, he worried. He watched his childe become quiet after the other's left for home and the Magic Box was closed for the night. That was the time when the two of them did one final patrol alone. It was when they bought any gas they needed for the generator or cigarettes for Spike, when they sat and talked quietly and Spike could try and impart some of his wisdom and learning on his childe. Spike lectured him on vampire traditions and ceremonies that couldn't be found in the watcher's journals, he talked about various types of demons and non-humans.

It was also the time when Xander began his nightly brooding. In life, the boy had been a nonstop bundle of noise. His heart used to beat constantly, sending blood swooshing through his veins and he breathed air in and out of his lungs. He babbled and talked; jokes, comments and morbid observations poured out of him in a constant litany. But now, when the boy brooded, he was still...silent. His heart didn't echo through the room and his blood didn't swoosh and swirl. His lungs didn't suck in great draughts of breath and no words spilled from his lips. He was all hulking shoulders, dark haunted eyes and shaggy hair.

And fear ate away at Spike's mind as he waited for the day that his souled childe walked away from him the same way that his souled Sire had done.

*

Xander starred out at the starry sky over the cemetery and chewed on his bottom lip. He was afraid. It was a soul deep fear and it grew worse every day. What's worse, he wasn't sure what to do about it or even if he should do anything at all. And as much as he adored his Sire, he *knew* that Spike wouldn't understand.

He was hungry. *Very* hungry. And all the bagged pigs and cows blood in the world would never ever come close to sating that hunger. He craved *human* blood. Badly.

Every night he and his Sire went into town and the first place they stopped at was the Magic Box. It was the one place that Xander loved the most and it was also the one place that Xander hated the most. On the one hand, it held the only people who knew what he was and who supported him and loved him. And he loved them as well. Giles was like a father-figure to him, Buffy and Willow were like his sisters. He drew great comfort from knowing that he hadn't lost their love or their respect.

The only problem was...the entire shop was *coated* in their scents. They walked around without even realizing how wonderful they smelled. Like soap and herbs and blood. Thick rich sweet *human* blood. It was a special sort of pain whenever Willow hugged him anymore, enveloping him in that heady scent. He suddenly had a perfectly clear idea of *why* Angel had always hung back in the shadows, physically distancing himself from the young humans around him. Xander and Spike did the same thing...not out of hate or disgust or anything like that...but out of simple self-defense. They smelled *too* good, like the best dinner that could ever be laid out before them, a virtual feast. Spike *couldn't* bite them and Xander *wouldn't* bite them, but the scent was strong, inviting and oh-so tempting.

It was both harder and easier when they were simply out and about. Places like the gas-station and various clubs, bars and university centers held people as well. Their scents were more diffused and as such weren't as tempting, however, there was less of a reason to care if they lived or died. There was no personal entanglements of love, respect and loyalty.

It would be so easy to seduce one of the humans to follow him out into the night and then to sink his fangs deep into their soft neck letting that wonderful scent of fresh living human blood spill across his lips and pour down his parched throat. Spike would help him and actively cheer him on and then lie for him to the Scoobies. He *knew* this...and that was part of the problem. That's what his Sire *wanted* him to do and somewhere deep down inside, so did he...

It was odd. He used to be afraid of so many things. Of demons and dying and his father. Now, the only thing that frightened him was himself. He had become his greatest fear. A merciless serial killer on the thinnest and flimsiest of leashes...a soul. And everyone *knew* that a soul didn't *stop* one from killing...it just punished you afterwards with guilt.

*

Spike had watched as Xander stared out at the night time sky for over an hour silently working out whatever was running about inside his head. The boy had brooded and brooded, his face reflecting hunger, anger, sorrow and fear in alternating rhythms. He needed to stop this. Sometimes over thinking was the wrong way to go and Spike knew the pain of having too much time to think and not enough to distract himself from it.

"Pet?"

The fledgling turned his head towards Spike immediately.

"Yes, Sire?"

Spike couldn't help but grin at the secret little thrill that ran through him at hearing Xander call him 'Sire'. Pushing it down, he gestured vaguely towards the world in general.

"What's going on inside that mind of yours? You've been thinking pretty hard the past couple of days. What is it?"

Spike watched as his childe struggled to find the words to describe what it was that was bothering him. His face was open and easy for Spike to read as the boy's emotions flitted across it.

"I...I...I *crave* things. *Wrong* things. Bad things. I...I smell or hear something and it's like something inside of me starts screaming to be let out to play. And the games it wants to play are *evil* and *wrong*, but I can't help but *want* it. And I *can't* let it happen because I know that I shouldn't and that later I would look back and just hate myself for it, but...that doesn't stop me from *wanting* it in the first place..."

Xander trailed off looking lost, uncertain and slightly afraid.

"Yeah, pet, I know what you mean."

Xander looked up in surprise.

"What? You think I didn't? You're a *vampire*, luv. Trust me when I say that I understand everything that that little fact means. I know the cravings and the desires because I've lived with them for *decades*, childe. We track and hunt mice down in the tunnels because it helps to hone and sharpen your senses, but somewhere deep inside, your demon wants to track and hunt humans through twisting city streets, yeah?"

Silently, Xander nodded his head, his dark eyes wide and guileless.

"You enjoy hunting demons and ripping them apart because the kill is *so* wonderful to you now. Killing them is no longer just a *duty* to rid the world of evil, but it's own special reward in itself. Yet part of you wishes that they had the right type of blood that they could die on your fangs instead of just in your bare hands. Right?"

Once again, Xander nodded silently at him. A look of relief slowly spreading on his face from hearing so clearly stated that which he can barely understand himself.

"You smell the humans wandering around you like bright beacons of heat and light and this rich wonderful living blood that makes your mouth water for them and all you want is to wrap them into your arms and hold them close to you. Letting their heat warm you from the outside as you sink your fangs into them, tasting them, absorbing them, for a brief moment becoming them, as their stolen blood warms you from the inside."

Xander's face began to slowly shift back and forth from his gameface and his human mask unconsciously. Spike was enthralled by his childe's beauty as he watched.

"But you don't, because you know that, just like me, there's a painful consequence to pay. Me from the chip and you from your soul. So...we both sit there and suffer and the humans wander about safe and unaware of the danger that hovers so close to them."

A look of sadness swept through his childe's eyes and Spike knew that he hit on the main problem his childe was struggling with. The desire to kill humans and the guilt he felt for that having that need.

"Even knowing that it's wrong doesn't stop your fangs from itching to bury themselves in their flesh, does it luv?"

"No Sire. I...I still want it. *Crave* it, even though..."

Spike nodded his head. He understood about the craving. The guilt he didn't get. Well, *intellectually* he understood it, but not emotionally. The fear of the consequences, that he *did* get very well. He feared the chip's punishment as much as his childe feared his soul's punishment.

Coming to a decision, Spike stood up from where he'd been sitting and gestured to Xander.

"Come here childe."

Slowly, Xander turned away from the night sky and gently shut the thick stone crypt door behind him. With his dark eyes haunted, he shuffled his way across the floor to stand in front of Spike. Reaching up with one pale hand, Spike ran his fingers delicately through the boy's dark silken curls, petting him, soothing him. Xander's eyes slid shut and a low rumbling purr echoed through the crypt. Then without warning, Spike tightened his grip on Xander's hair and the boy's eyes flew open, golden flecks appearing in the dark orbs. With a slight grin, Spike gently guided his childe's head towards his own neck.

"Drink, childe...drink."

A brief pause and then Spike felt his childe's fangs slide effortlessly into his throat, slicing open his skin and muscle. A low moan of pleasure sent lovely vibrations through his body even as his own fangs dropped into place. He twisted his head just slightly and bit down on Xander's own neck. The circle completed itself and pleasure sizzled through them both.

After a long moment, Spike pulled back and broke the connection between them. He watched delighted as Xander licked his blood stained lips with deep seated happiness. Grinning wickedly, Spike took his childe's hand and began to lead him towards the back room where he kept his bed, determined to add to the fledgling's education.

And who knows, maybe having one person that Xander could completely and totally let go with would help him adjust. And Spike for one, was ready for a closer relationship with his childe.

END