Late Fic for Slashfest: "Proportioned to the Groove," Angel/Xander
Title: Proportioned to the Groove
Author: Alizarin
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Angel/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Written for: slashfest, for stungunbilly
Notes: This is embarrassingly late and the mods and the recipient should feel free to beat me about the head with sticks. It’s the fic’s fault, really. It wouldn’t lay down. Many thanks to viciouswishes for help with beta-ing, she is truly amazing. However, this fic resembles the fic she beta’ed only marginally so all fault lies squarely at my door. Mistakes herein will be fixed if pointed out.
Summary: Xander comes to work with Angel and Co. at Wolfram & Hart and his presence changes things for everyone.
Proportioned to the Groove
He who attacks must vanquish. He who defends must merely survive. - Master Khan
Cordelia’s lips brushed across his like fine feathers, like a tiny bird fluttering across his lips; when he opened his eyes, she was there, dressed in her pearly grey blouse and pants, and perched on the edge of his bed. He reached up to rub his eyes, remembered the patch, and let one fist follow through.
“Huh?” Xander said.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” Cordelia said sweetly, brushing the hair from his forehead.
“I thought you were…” Xander struggled to piece together the memory. Cordelia in Angel’s office, newly risen from her coma, saying she’d meet them for drinks later. “You never came out for drinks. We all waited for you.”
“Angel and I had unfinished business,” Cordy said. “But now I can say goodbye. Just one last thing to do, Xander.”
She leaned over and for just a moment, Xander thought, oh I made a mistake; it’s me she still wants, not Angel, as Cordy kissed him. Her lips moved against his, fast and firm, and he drew in a breath.
When he let his breath out again, she was gone.
***
The first time Xander got a blow job from a guy, it was in the back alley of an LA gay bar down on Santa Monica Boulevard. He was a total tourist and didn’t even know if protocol dictated that he should reciprocate when the guy was done. He settled for helping him up off the blacktop, which had to have been hard on his knees. The guy was nowhere near Anya’s league in the blow job department, a fact which made Xander wince. He stuttered an apology, but the guy waved him off and slipped back into the club without a backward glance.
Xander saw him ten minutes later with another guy in tow, heading back out to the alley, smirky grin on his face.
There was clearly no love lost.
***
Xander ended up in Los Angeles after Sunnydale’s demise. Willow and Kennedy hung in LA for a while, but were in no particular need of Angel Investigations or the new Wolfram & Hart digs. But Xander had a more burning curiosity about the new, hip version of Angel’s ultra-Scoobies.
He spent some time tending to Cordelia, and then Angel let him hang out and participate in various cases and derring-do. He even gave Xander an office. He was more put off by Spike’s appearance. Wesley was fairly welcoming, given Xander’s “field experience,” Gunn was happy to have a guy around who would shoot pool with him in the off-hours, and it helped Xander’s one-eye-to-hand coordination. Fred immediately adopted him as if he’d just come back from a long vacation in Pylea.
Xander knew the master plan: to use the resources of evil for good. But there was a sense of charade about it that unnerved him. He felt the noose and knew it easily could tighten around their necks at any moment. Angel could feel it too, Xander knew, but was willing to gamble. Either that, or he’d gotten greedy and soft under the influence of Los Angeles’ glamour and glitz.
Xander was willing to see what happened. He was in a reckless mood.
***
“Hey Big Guy,” Xander said, seating himself in the spacious Wolfram & Hart conference room. Angel hated to be called “Big Guy.” He was a little sensitive about the weight he’d gained in recent years. Xander had thought vampires didn’t gain weight, didn’t change at all, but apparently that wasn’t exactly the case. Years of rat blood had thinned him, but under the watchful eye of Cordelia and Wesley, he’d become the vampire equivalent of robust.
Spike opened his briefcase and pulled out a six-pack. He tossed Xander a beer. “Nice catch,” he made a point of saying, cocking his eyebrow at Xander’s patch.
“Spike, it’s not even noon yet,” Angel said, frowning at him.
“That a fact?” Spike said, making an exaggerated gesture with his arm as if he were checking his watch. “Xander, what time is it?”
“It’s beer o’clock,” Xander replied, in an earnest repeat of the morning-meeting shtick they’d been doing for months now.
“Ahoy, matey,” Spike said, raising his beer. He still thought that pirate jokes were funny. Xander rolled his eye and swigged a mouthful of beer. He preferred coffee, but enjoyed humoring Spike at Angel’s expense.
“Ah beer o’clock,” Gunn said, striding in and taking his seat. Spike tossed him one and he flipped his tie over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get moisture on it. “Nice and cold,” he remarked.
“Has everyone gone completely insane?” Angel asked. “It’s eleven o’clock and you’re all going to be sloshed by the end of this meeting and we have important matters to discuss.” He raised his voice but there was a note of resignation. Even Angel knew it was a farce. Every time he got worked up into a real rage, his friends just pointed out to him that they were working for an evil law firm, and could hardly be expected to play the corporate game. Even for a good cause.
“Speak for yourself, Angel,” Spike said. “This lot is hard-drinking, not likely to get so much as a good buzz off one lousy beer.”
“Where’s Wes, he’s got whiskey,” Gunn said, grinning. They all watched Angel splutter and shout and then the morale-building moment was over and the meeting commenced.
Xander loved the laughs. He really did. He loved the whole gang. When Fred came in later, her glasses askew and her mini-skirt turned front-to-back, he smiled at her with genuine affection. She was the hardest worker out of all of them, yet still managed to sidle into the dive bar late at night to have a nightcap long after Gunn had beaten him some twenty times at pool. She’d have a beer and then Xander would bring her a Bailey’s on the rocks. He loved how she always managed genuine surprise at his gesture and at the milky sweet taste of the liquor. She would pull off her heels and curl her long legs up under her on a bar stool and watch them wield the cue sticks with macho aplomb.
If Spike was in attendance, he’d be there the minute the sun went down, and would stay until just before sunrise. The few times Xander stayed with him and tried to keep up, he ended up so drunk, Spike propped him a corner until he was ready to leave. Xander had to admit, Spike was hardcore.
On occasion, Angel strolled in, usually after midnight. Xander wondered if he really worked that late, or was seeing someone. He really hoped Angel was working.
The last few times Angel had shown up, he’d rested casually on a bar stool right next to Xander and had watched the pool play with avid interest. Angel had even let his shoulder rest against Xander as he knocked back a few glasses of whiskey. Xander had won a game that night, for the very first time, eking out victory against Gunn with an almost magical shot. Angel gave him a grin and a manly bear hug and Xander secretly plotted to take pool lessons on his lunch hour.
No doubt, things were completely different between him and Angel now. After all the things he’d seen in the past few years, was he going to hang on to a high school grudge? He remembered how he’d once loathed Angel at the same time that he’d wanted to be him. He’d hated the way Buffy stared at Angel. And the way Angel had stared back.
But Angel wasn’t staring at Buffy now; he was staring mostly at Xander.
In the morning meetings, Angel had taken to rubbing the arms of his chair introspectively, and something about the way his fingers pressed the firm leather made Xander feel a tingle in his spine. Xander was staring at Angel’s hands today, just like most days. Now those hands were stroking the sides of the chair. Suddenly Angel’s eyes rested on Xander, like he knew what Xander was thinking.
God, Xander thought, Nothing is getting accomplished in this meeting.
“Xander, let’s meet in my office to go over a few things,” Angel said suddenly. “The rest of you, I want to see more comprehensive research on this clan and ways to infiltrate their operation. And I want it by the end of the day today or no one goes home.”
Xander followed Angel out of the conference room and into his office where Angel made a big show of slamming the door and punching his phone to bark at Harmony to hold his calls. He opened and closed a bunch of drawers in his desk. Then he was right up in Xander’s space.
“Yeah?” Angel said, and waited.
“Yeah,” Xander said. And he left it at that. Angel smiled and Xander stuttered for a moment, wondering if he’d misread the cues. LA glittered brightly outside beyond the blinds and Angel looked right at him in the clear light of day, and then he realized that he’d mistaken nothing.
“Yeah,” Angel said again, and put his hand on the back of Xander’s neck. Their lips met. The first awkward kiss was followed by a few more less-awkward kisses, stubbled cheeks scraping against each other, tongues sliding. They grappled for a while, strange touches, pulling at each other’s clothing. Xander hadn’t done everything, and he figured Angel pretty much had done everything, but he didn’t feel intimidated. It was just Angel, after all. Angel and a luxurious leather couch that felt like butter to the touch and seemed to swallow them up when they fell onto it.
And it felt completely strange and strangely familiar at the same time.
Angel had apparently been going through his desk drawers for some lube. Now it sat on the low table in front of them, and Xander was one pair of boxer shorts away from this, whatever this was.
Angel wasn’t being particularly gentle, and he hauled Xander up and over his chest, so he was leaning back on Angel like Angel was some sort of recliner. And Angel was sliding his boxers off, grinding up against Xander’s hip and then using his foot to snag the boxers and pull them all the way off while his hands traveled over Xander’s chest, pressing hard enough to leave red marks.
Xander leaned into him, letting Angel support his weight. He didn’t care about control, never really had, ever since that first time with Faith. Let the control junkies get their fix; he was along for the ride.
Angel whispered to him, kissing his neck, his hair, running his tongue up and around the outside of his ear, urging him to open his legs, to lift up and lay back, and Xander whimpered when Angel pushed one slick finger up and inside. Angel kept on licking and stroking, until Xander decided that his ear was in close competition with his left nipple for Erogenous Zone of the Year. When Angel twisted his finger inside, Xander abandoned consideration of the competition for erogenous zones and declared a clear winner. Angel opened him up with two fingers and urged him to spread his legs, the result of which was Xander’s legs lifting off the carpeted office floor. He gave up leverage, then he gave up control. When the time came, Angel’s cock felt hard and smooth sliding in, and Angel closed his hand lightly over Xander’s cock and he slipped passed the momentary pain. Angel thrust up and up and up, still whispering, until Xander shouted, clenched, and came.
***
Xander’s first vision headache happened in the middle of the lobby as Spike and Angel were having another little fist-to-fist confrontation. It seemed that no aside could go unpunished. First there were words, lots of them. Then one or the other struck out. Then there were fangs and furniture got thrown while Harmony squealed in barely concealed delight. Xander was generally a little bit jealous, since he could easily imagine things escalating into some pretty interesting sex.
Angel and Spike actually stopped fighting when Xander shouted and tried to back away from the images coming at him from all directions. He saw people he knew and people he’d never seen before, monsters and beasts and hell dimensions, all rushing in and at him all at once.
When he came to, he was lying on Angel’s sofa, and Fred sat next to him with a wet cloth on pressed to his forehead. Spike sulked against the desk, Angel loomed in the background, Wesley stood with a book open in his hand, and Gunn lounged lazily in the armchair. Xander heard Lorne buzzing on his cell phone in the background.
Aw, they do care, he thought. “Gang’s all here.” He smiled weakly.
“You didn’t tell us,” Angel said.
“I had no idea,” Xander answered. And he didn’t before, but now he understood. Cordelia opened his eyes and his mind. He saw, really saw, a whole lot of things he wished he didn’t have to. He told them what he’d seen, and then Angel ordered everyone out of the office. Gunn was told not to do any upgrades to his brain, come hell or high water, so to speak. Fred was not to accept or investigate any strange objects delivered to Wolfram & Hart. Knox was thrown into a holding cell.
***
Xander didn’t discuss his relationship with Angel with any of the others. It was akin to sleeping with the boss; you didn’t want others to think you were any kind of teacher’s pet. Plus, if he was occasionally Angel’s bitch in the bedroom, he was no one’s bitch outside of it. Angel made him feel powerful, like he shared what Angel had. No one could touch him after Angel did.
Angel called Xander down to his office for the most mundane things. Xander felt like he’d spoken to Harmony more now than he ever had in high school. He was more than willing to talk to Harmony. He was more than willing to bring the Colavichi Gang files to Angel again, to consult on the new astrology chart for the prediction of Hellmouth formations, and to deliver the spell book Angel left behind in his office by accident.
Sometimes business was business and sometimes it wasn’t.
Sometimes Angel pulled him inside his office and spent valuable corporate time fucking him. It wasn’t what Xander imagined at all. Not that he’d imagined being with Angel. But if he had, he would have imagined rough sex; Angel biting him, drinking from him, taking what he wanted without a lot of seduction. Angel didn’t do any of that, even managed to throw a little seduction into the mix. He’d also toss Xander’s clothes over his chair and bend him over the big desk that Wolfram & Hart had provided. Then he’d keep Xander panting for long, agonizing minutes as he kissed his way over Xander’s back and neck, working his fingers slowly inside, pressing on just the right spot to make Xander clench his fingers in whatever paperwork Angel had lying around. Xander would press his cock into the desk blotter while Angel finger-fucked him until Xander begged for more.
Angel seemed to really enjoy the begging. More than was perhaps healthy, but Xander wasn’t going to quibble. He’d let Angel grind him hard into the desk with his hands and he’d turn his head and beg and beg until Angel gave in and replaced his fingers with his cock. Then Angel would drag it out even more, whispering to Xander as he slid in so carefully and slowly, that Xander wanted to scream. Damn vampires and their eternal stamina. When finally Angel would set a rhythm, he’d roll Xander’s ass up into his hands and undulate his hips like a go-go dancer until Xander was practically banging his own head on the desk, reaching and scrabbling for purchase on the desktop, knocking over coffee mugs and sending pens and paperclips flying.
Xander often wondered what Harmony thought when she came in after being denied access to Angel’s office for an hour, only to have to crawl around on her hands and knees picking up stray paperclips.
***
When Buffy and Giles paid a surprise visit to discuss which Slayers belonged where and to learn the details of Spike’s resurrection, Angel greeted them warily, then seated them in the large conference room. Pleasantries over with, Angel motioned for Xander to follow him into the adjoining room.
Once there, Angel spun him around and pressed him up against the door. “Can you hear them?” Angel said. “The pompous Watcher and his loyal Slayer. What would they think if they knew I had you right here, so close to them, about to fuck you six feet from where they’re sitting?”
Xander said nothing. He wanted to beg Angel not to, wanted to beg him to do it hard. He wanted them to hear; he wanted them to never know. He didn’t think they heard through the solid Wolfram & Hart office door as Angel undid first Xander’s suit pants, then his own, slicked up his cock, and pushed into him, bracing Xander’s head against the door with his spread-fingered hand. No sound escaped him as Angel pumped into him. Xander could hear the voices on the other side of the door - Buffy’s, Giles’, now Gunn’s and Wesley’s -- and it felt like Angel’s cock was pressing through him, nailing him into the door.
Angel whispered, “Come for me.” And Xander did, striping the door shamelessly and squeezing a climax out of Angel, too.
Buffy never even looked up when Xander reentered the conference room. Her eyes were on Angel, and then she jumped clean out of her chair when Spike showed up. There was too much confusion, and Xander felt he had better things to do than witness the shocked and awkward reunion.
He caught up with Gunn, and they decided to cut out early and shoot some pool. Gunn didn’t even question the red stripe down the side of Xander’s face where Angel had pressed him against the door.
Xander beat Gunn again that time.
***
Angel decided that Knox would make a great bait-and-switch so they could get Lindsey McDonald out of the hell dimension.
Fred was still uncertain about Knox’s role in something that would have caused her death - despite her firm belief in the validity of the vision that Cordy had given Xander. She didn’t want to see Knox unjustly accused.
Lorne did several readings, and Knox sang “Jessie’s Girl” with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. Lorne confirmed to Fred that he was indeed, a bad egg.
“You woulda looked great in blue though, honey,” Lorne said, much to everyone’s confusion.
***
“I’ve been thinking about this plan of yours,” Xander said, standing in the doorway of Angel’s apartment. He’d hardly been back to his studio in Santa Monica in recent weeks, except to stuff a change of clothes in a backpack. The one time he’d worn a shirt and tie of Angel’s with his suit from the night before, he’d gotten some very penetrating looks from Wesley and Spike.
“You know this plan isn’t going to end well. Not for you, not for any of us,” Xander continued, walking in to sit on the corner of the bed. Angel was lying on his back, his shirt off, the top of his jeans unbuttoned. He lifted his head and then let it fall back on to the pillow.
That’s what today was about,” Angel said. “Now that you all know what’s going on, you each can choose what you want to do. Everyone said they’d see it through. Even you.”
“Everyone would do anything for you,” Xander replied. “But they haven’t really had time to think about it, and to realize that you’re leading them into certain death. I’ve been there, done that, you may recall. Little place, name of Sunnydale? Looking back though, I’m not so sure everyone that followed Buffy in there really needed to do so.”
“And did you make up their mind for them then?” Angel asked.
“No, no I didn’t. I was all rah-rah about the big fight. I’m trying to say that this is in hindsight. We all rushed into the big fight, and here I am again, looking at people rushing headlong into yet another big fight, and I’m thinking that there’s always going to be a big fight. Someone needs to fight a small fight. A miniscule fight, even.”
“There are plenty of small fights to be had,” Angel said. “And plenty of people out there to fight them. It isn’t like evil is going to go away if I destroy the Circle. But this fight here, now, has to be fought.” Angel’s head sank back in the pillow and his eyes were shaded. Xander couldn’t see what was in them. “Tell me you understand, Xander.”
“I’m sure you know I do,” Xander said.
Angel turned over on his side and faced him. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I’ve gotten soft, and can’t really make all the sacrifices I need to make.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If I asked, would you let me save you?” Angel asked.
“I don’t think I can let you do that. Buffy tried, and I’m not sure I’ve forgiven her yet.”
“I need you to do something for me, then. It’s because I trust you, but also because I’m selfish. I want you to live.”
“I want me to live, too.” Xander said. “But I don’t walk away from the fight. End of story.”
“Well, there’s a story I want you to hear. It’s about a boy. A boy named Connor.”
When Angel finished, Xander thought he understood. “You love him a lot,” Xander said softly.
Angel sighed. “All out of proportion. More than you can imagine. I thought I knew what immortality meant, but I didn’t. Connor is my immortality, my mark on the world. He’s my heart.” Angel’s face was soft in the shadows. His hands made round, tracing gestures against the light, which was darkening with the close of day.
“The rest feels temporary,” Xander said, turning his head to look again at Angel, stretched out on the bed and trusting his thoughts to Xander. When Angel looked at him sharply, he said, “Don’t worry, it’s okay. It all feels temporary to me, too.” He lost his heart once. Maybe more than once. And when things and people were liable to become nothing but a giant sinkhole in the earth, the rest really did feel impermanent.
Xander thought about what Angel was doing. How Angel was making the biggest sacrifice he’d ever make, but not for himself, or for a heroic ideal, but for his son and the people he cared about. He wanted a better world for Connor. He hadn’t gone soft with all the luxuries of Wolfram & Hart, he’d actually grown stronger. Xander wanted that better world, too. And he had to admit, he wanted the permanence of love.
“So help me protect my heart,” Angel said and reached for him.
***
Xander tells Lorne that he doesn’t have to follow Angel’s last order. “Loose ends, there’s always loose ends, Lorne. You have to live with yourself.”
Lorne looks uncertain. He’s always believed in Angel for all the right reasons. But Xander senses how hard this will be on Lorne and he feels sorry for him. “If Lindsey gives you any trouble, shoot him in the knee and leave him. But I don’t see the harm in tossing him in the getaway car.”
“You don’t know Lindsey like we know Lindsey,” Lorne says grimly.
“Maybe. But people change, you know?”
And Lorne agrees with him, because Lorne has seen this happen; he’s heard Lindsey sing more than a few times over the years. He knows that improbable doesn’t always mean impossible.
***
Spike is going to stand by Angel. Xander figured that would be the case, knowing Spike, but he gives Spike the option anyway.
“There’s room in the car, you know.”
“You’re a peach, Harris,” Spike says. “But really, I’m good. You’ve got to take Fred and the others away if it comes down to it. And you know, tell Buffy…” Spike stops and then it’s time for them all to leave to fulfill their part of the grand plan and Spike doesn’t get the words out. Xander nods and gives him what he thinks is his reassuring eye, and he hopes Spike gets it.
It really does come down to it.
In fact, Xander barely gets out of the parking garage before the earth starts to shake and Connor comes running from the building and jumps into the car. “Go, go,” Connor says, and his voice is a hard edge that makes Xander wince.
No one wants to leave Angel. Everyone loves him and would follow him into the abyss if he asked. He did ask Gunn, and even though Xander hates him a little for that, he swallowed his argument when Gunn explained the meaning behind it. "Man doesn't go into a fight without the muscle. That's what I am." Angel’s asked much more of his friends before, and he's had to live with the outcome. Today though, Xander’s car is his salvation. Angel is trying to save the ones that he can.
Xander pulls around to the front where Lorne waits with a surly Lindsey slumped nearby. Lindsey doesn’t want to get in, naturally, and they have a macho moment where Xander explains to him that he ought to be dead ten times over right now and if Lindsey wants to be useful he should just get in the car and shut his stupid mouth. Lindsey stares at Xander for a few moments. Then he gets in and actually shuts up.
Fred comes toward them at a dead run. She holds a vial of lethal-to-demons bacteria that she cooked up in her lab. It’s empty. She did her part. Wesley isn’t back and Xander sees the look of utter fear and complete hope on her face.
“We can’t wait,” Xander tells her. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And he’s done a lot of hard things.
Fred’s face crumples, and she turns away from the car. She says she’s not leaving Wesley behind.
“We’re the heart,” Xander says to Fred. “They can’t ever get along without the heart.” He wasn’t on the front lines in the final Sunnydale showdown, but he got out alive while part of his heart didn’t. He knows what Fred feels; he does.
The heart has to go on beating or the game is lost. He tells Fred this. She gets into the car, but doesn’t turn forward, keeps looking out the back until there’s nothing to see but darkness and smoke.
Xander doesn’t look back at all, because Angel told him not to.
**end**
That Love is all there is,
Is all we know of Love;
It is enough, the freight should be
Proportioned to the groove.
--Emily Dickenson
.
.
.
Author: Alizarin
Fandom: Angel
Pairing: Angel/Xander
Rating: NC-17
Written for: slashfest, for stungunbilly
Notes: This is embarrassingly late and the mods and the recipient should feel free to beat me about the head with sticks. It’s the fic’s fault, really. It wouldn’t lay down. Many thanks to viciouswishes for help with beta-ing, she is truly amazing. However, this fic resembles the fic she beta’ed only marginally so all fault lies squarely at my door. Mistakes herein will be fixed if pointed out.
Summary: Xander comes to work with Angel and Co. at Wolfram & Hart and his presence changes things for everyone.
Proportioned to the Groove
He who attacks must vanquish. He who defends must merely survive. - Master Khan
Cordelia’s lips brushed across his like fine feathers, like a tiny bird fluttering across his lips; when he opened his eyes, she was there, dressed in her pearly grey blouse and pants, and perched on the edge of his bed. He reached up to rub his eyes, remembered the patch, and let one fist follow through.
“Huh?” Xander said.
“I’ve come to say goodbye,” Cordelia said sweetly, brushing the hair from his forehead.
“I thought you were…” Xander struggled to piece together the memory. Cordelia in Angel’s office, newly risen from her coma, saying she’d meet them for drinks later. “You never came out for drinks. We all waited for you.”
“Angel and I had unfinished business,” Cordy said. “But now I can say goodbye. Just one last thing to do, Xander.”
She leaned over and for just a moment, Xander thought, oh I made a mistake; it’s me she still wants, not Angel, as Cordy kissed him. Her lips moved against his, fast and firm, and he drew in a breath.
When he let his breath out again, she was gone.
***
The first time Xander got a blow job from a guy, it was in the back alley of an LA gay bar down on Santa Monica Boulevard. He was a total tourist and didn’t even know if protocol dictated that he should reciprocate when the guy was done. He settled for helping him up off the blacktop, which had to have been hard on his knees. The guy was nowhere near Anya’s league in the blow job department, a fact which made Xander wince. He stuttered an apology, but the guy waved him off and slipped back into the club without a backward glance.
Xander saw him ten minutes later with another guy in tow, heading back out to the alley, smirky grin on his face.
There was clearly no love lost.
***
Xander ended up in Los Angeles after Sunnydale’s demise. Willow and Kennedy hung in LA for a while, but were in no particular need of Angel Investigations or the new Wolfram & Hart digs. But Xander had a more burning curiosity about the new, hip version of Angel’s ultra-Scoobies.
He spent some time tending to Cordelia, and then Angel let him hang out and participate in various cases and derring-do. He even gave Xander an office. He was more put off by Spike’s appearance. Wesley was fairly welcoming, given Xander’s “field experience,” Gunn was happy to have a guy around who would shoot pool with him in the off-hours, and it helped Xander’s one-eye-to-hand coordination. Fred immediately adopted him as if he’d just come back from a long vacation in Pylea.
Xander knew the master plan: to use the resources of evil for good. But there was a sense of charade about it that unnerved him. He felt the noose and knew it easily could tighten around their necks at any moment. Angel could feel it too, Xander knew, but was willing to gamble. Either that, or he’d gotten greedy and soft under the influence of Los Angeles’ glamour and glitz.
Xander was willing to see what happened. He was in a reckless mood.
***
“Hey Big Guy,” Xander said, seating himself in the spacious Wolfram & Hart conference room. Angel hated to be called “Big Guy.” He was a little sensitive about the weight he’d gained in recent years. Xander had thought vampires didn’t gain weight, didn’t change at all, but apparently that wasn’t exactly the case. Years of rat blood had thinned him, but under the watchful eye of Cordelia and Wesley, he’d become the vampire equivalent of robust.
Spike opened his briefcase and pulled out a six-pack. He tossed Xander a beer. “Nice catch,” he made a point of saying, cocking his eyebrow at Xander’s patch.
“Spike, it’s not even noon yet,” Angel said, frowning at him.
“That a fact?” Spike said, making an exaggerated gesture with his arm as if he were checking his watch. “Xander, what time is it?”
“It’s beer o’clock,” Xander replied, in an earnest repeat of the morning-meeting shtick they’d been doing for months now.
“Ahoy, matey,” Spike said, raising his beer. He still thought that pirate jokes were funny. Xander rolled his eye and swigged a mouthful of beer. He preferred coffee, but enjoyed humoring Spike at Angel’s expense.
“Ah beer o’clock,” Gunn said, striding in and taking his seat. Spike tossed him one and he flipped his tie over his shoulder so it wouldn’t get moisture on it. “Nice and cold,” he remarked.
“Has everyone gone completely insane?” Angel asked. “It’s eleven o’clock and you’re all going to be sloshed by the end of this meeting and we have important matters to discuss.” He raised his voice but there was a note of resignation. Even Angel knew it was a farce. Every time he got worked up into a real rage, his friends just pointed out to him that they were working for an evil law firm, and could hardly be expected to play the corporate game. Even for a good cause.
“Speak for yourself, Angel,” Spike said. “This lot is hard-drinking, not likely to get so much as a good buzz off one lousy beer.”
“Where’s Wes, he’s got whiskey,” Gunn said, grinning. They all watched Angel splutter and shout and then the morale-building moment was over and the meeting commenced.
Xander loved the laughs. He really did. He loved the whole gang. When Fred came in later, her glasses askew and her mini-skirt turned front-to-back, he smiled at her with genuine affection. She was the hardest worker out of all of them, yet still managed to sidle into the dive bar late at night to have a nightcap long after Gunn had beaten him some twenty times at pool. She’d have a beer and then Xander would bring her a Bailey’s on the rocks. He loved how she always managed genuine surprise at his gesture and at the milky sweet taste of the liquor. She would pull off her heels and curl her long legs up under her on a bar stool and watch them wield the cue sticks with macho aplomb.
If Spike was in attendance, he’d be there the minute the sun went down, and would stay until just before sunrise. The few times Xander stayed with him and tried to keep up, he ended up so drunk, Spike propped him a corner until he was ready to leave. Xander had to admit, Spike was hardcore.
On occasion, Angel strolled in, usually after midnight. Xander wondered if he really worked that late, or was seeing someone. He really hoped Angel was working.
The last few times Angel had shown up, he’d rested casually on a bar stool right next to Xander and had watched the pool play with avid interest. Angel had even let his shoulder rest against Xander as he knocked back a few glasses of whiskey. Xander had won a game that night, for the very first time, eking out victory against Gunn with an almost magical shot. Angel gave him a grin and a manly bear hug and Xander secretly plotted to take pool lessons on his lunch hour.
No doubt, things were completely different between him and Angel now. After all the things he’d seen in the past few years, was he going to hang on to a high school grudge? He remembered how he’d once loathed Angel at the same time that he’d wanted to be him. He’d hated the way Buffy stared at Angel. And the way Angel had stared back.
But Angel wasn’t staring at Buffy now; he was staring mostly at Xander.
In the morning meetings, Angel had taken to rubbing the arms of his chair introspectively, and something about the way his fingers pressed the firm leather made Xander feel a tingle in his spine. Xander was staring at Angel’s hands today, just like most days. Now those hands were stroking the sides of the chair. Suddenly Angel’s eyes rested on Xander, like he knew what Xander was thinking.
God, Xander thought, Nothing is getting accomplished in this meeting.
“Xander, let’s meet in my office to go over a few things,” Angel said suddenly. “The rest of you, I want to see more comprehensive research on this clan and ways to infiltrate their operation. And I want it by the end of the day today or no one goes home.”
Xander followed Angel out of the conference room and into his office where Angel made a big show of slamming the door and punching his phone to bark at Harmony to hold his calls. He opened and closed a bunch of drawers in his desk. Then he was right up in Xander’s space.
“Yeah?” Angel said, and waited.
“Yeah,” Xander said. And he left it at that. Angel smiled and Xander stuttered for a moment, wondering if he’d misread the cues. LA glittered brightly outside beyond the blinds and Angel looked right at him in the clear light of day, and then he realized that he’d mistaken nothing.
“Yeah,” Angel said again, and put his hand on the back of Xander’s neck. Their lips met. The first awkward kiss was followed by a few more less-awkward kisses, stubbled cheeks scraping against each other, tongues sliding. They grappled for a while, strange touches, pulling at each other’s clothing. Xander hadn’t done everything, and he figured Angel pretty much had done everything, but he didn’t feel intimidated. It was just Angel, after all. Angel and a luxurious leather couch that felt like butter to the touch and seemed to swallow them up when they fell onto it.
And it felt completely strange and strangely familiar at the same time.
Angel had apparently been going through his desk drawers for some lube. Now it sat on the low table in front of them, and Xander was one pair of boxer shorts away from this, whatever this was.
Angel wasn’t being particularly gentle, and he hauled Xander up and over his chest, so he was leaning back on Angel like Angel was some sort of recliner. And Angel was sliding his boxers off, grinding up against Xander’s hip and then using his foot to snag the boxers and pull them all the way off while his hands traveled over Xander’s chest, pressing hard enough to leave red marks.
Xander leaned into him, letting Angel support his weight. He didn’t care about control, never really had, ever since that first time with Faith. Let the control junkies get their fix; he was along for the ride.
Angel whispered to him, kissing his neck, his hair, running his tongue up and around the outside of his ear, urging him to open his legs, to lift up and lay back, and Xander whimpered when Angel pushed one slick finger up and inside. Angel kept on licking and stroking, until Xander decided that his ear was in close competition with his left nipple for Erogenous Zone of the Year. When Angel twisted his finger inside, Xander abandoned consideration of the competition for erogenous zones and declared a clear winner. Angel opened him up with two fingers and urged him to spread his legs, the result of which was Xander’s legs lifting off the carpeted office floor. He gave up leverage, then he gave up control. When the time came, Angel’s cock felt hard and smooth sliding in, and Angel closed his hand lightly over Xander’s cock and he slipped passed the momentary pain. Angel thrust up and up and up, still whispering, until Xander shouted, clenched, and came.
***
Xander’s first vision headache happened in the middle of the lobby as Spike and Angel were having another little fist-to-fist confrontation. It seemed that no aside could go unpunished. First there were words, lots of them. Then one or the other struck out. Then there were fangs and furniture got thrown while Harmony squealed in barely concealed delight. Xander was generally a little bit jealous, since he could easily imagine things escalating into some pretty interesting sex.
Angel and Spike actually stopped fighting when Xander shouted and tried to back away from the images coming at him from all directions. He saw people he knew and people he’d never seen before, monsters and beasts and hell dimensions, all rushing in and at him all at once.
When he came to, he was lying on Angel’s sofa, and Fred sat next to him with a wet cloth on pressed to his forehead. Spike sulked against the desk, Angel loomed in the background, Wesley stood with a book open in his hand, and Gunn lounged lazily in the armchair. Xander heard Lorne buzzing on his cell phone in the background.
Aw, they do care, he thought. “Gang’s all here.” He smiled weakly.
“You didn’t tell us,” Angel said.
“I had no idea,” Xander answered. And he didn’t before, but now he understood. Cordelia opened his eyes and his mind. He saw, really saw, a whole lot of things he wished he didn’t have to. He told them what he’d seen, and then Angel ordered everyone out of the office. Gunn was told not to do any upgrades to his brain, come hell or high water, so to speak. Fred was not to accept or investigate any strange objects delivered to Wolfram & Hart. Knox was thrown into a holding cell.
***
Xander didn’t discuss his relationship with Angel with any of the others. It was akin to sleeping with the boss; you didn’t want others to think you were any kind of teacher’s pet. Plus, if he was occasionally Angel’s bitch in the bedroom, he was no one’s bitch outside of it. Angel made him feel powerful, like he shared what Angel had. No one could touch him after Angel did.
Angel called Xander down to his office for the most mundane things. Xander felt like he’d spoken to Harmony more now than he ever had in high school. He was more than willing to talk to Harmony. He was more than willing to bring the Colavichi Gang files to Angel again, to consult on the new astrology chart for the prediction of Hellmouth formations, and to deliver the spell book Angel left behind in his office by accident.
Sometimes business was business and sometimes it wasn’t.
Sometimes Angel pulled him inside his office and spent valuable corporate time fucking him. It wasn’t what Xander imagined at all. Not that he’d imagined being with Angel. But if he had, he would have imagined rough sex; Angel biting him, drinking from him, taking what he wanted without a lot of seduction. Angel didn’t do any of that, even managed to throw a little seduction into the mix. He’d also toss Xander’s clothes over his chair and bend him over the big desk that Wolfram & Hart had provided. Then he’d keep Xander panting for long, agonizing minutes as he kissed his way over Xander’s back and neck, working his fingers slowly inside, pressing on just the right spot to make Xander clench his fingers in whatever paperwork Angel had lying around. Xander would press his cock into the desk blotter while Angel finger-fucked him until Xander begged for more.
Angel seemed to really enjoy the begging. More than was perhaps healthy, but Xander wasn’t going to quibble. He’d let Angel grind him hard into the desk with his hands and he’d turn his head and beg and beg until Angel gave in and replaced his fingers with his cock. Then Angel would drag it out even more, whispering to Xander as he slid in so carefully and slowly, that Xander wanted to scream. Damn vampires and their eternal stamina. When finally Angel would set a rhythm, he’d roll Xander’s ass up into his hands and undulate his hips like a go-go dancer until Xander was practically banging his own head on the desk, reaching and scrabbling for purchase on the desktop, knocking over coffee mugs and sending pens and paperclips flying.
Xander often wondered what Harmony thought when she came in after being denied access to Angel’s office for an hour, only to have to crawl around on her hands and knees picking up stray paperclips.
***
When Buffy and Giles paid a surprise visit to discuss which Slayers belonged where and to learn the details of Spike’s resurrection, Angel greeted them warily, then seated them in the large conference room. Pleasantries over with, Angel motioned for Xander to follow him into the adjoining room.
Once there, Angel spun him around and pressed him up against the door. “Can you hear them?” Angel said. “The pompous Watcher and his loyal Slayer. What would they think if they knew I had you right here, so close to them, about to fuck you six feet from where they’re sitting?”
Xander said nothing. He wanted to beg Angel not to, wanted to beg him to do it hard. He wanted them to hear; he wanted them to never know. He didn’t think they heard through the solid Wolfram & Hart office door as Angel undid first Xander’s suit pants, then his own, slicked up his cock, and pushed into him, bracing Xander’s head against the door with his spread-fingered hand. No sound escaped him as Angel pumped into him. Xander could hear the voices on the other side of the door - Buffy’s, Giles’, now Gunn’s and Wesley’s -- and it felt like Angel’s cock was pressing through him, nailing him into the door.
Angel whispered, “Come for me.” And Xander did, striping the door shamelessly and squeezing a climax out of Angel, too.
Buffy never even looked up when Xander reentered the conference room. Her eyes were on Angel, and then she jumped clean out of her chair when Spike showed up. There was too much confusion, and Xander felt he had better things to do than witness the shocked and awkward reunion.
He caught up with Gunn, and they decided to cut out early and shoot some pool. Gunn didn’t even question the red stripe down the side of Xander’s face where Angel had pressed him against the door.
Xander beat Gunn again that time.
***
Angel decided that Knox would make a great bait-and-switch so they could get Lindsey McDonald out of the hell dimension.
Fred was still uncertain about Knox’s role in something that would have caused her death - despite her firm belief in the validity of the vision that Cordy had given Xander. She didn’t want to see Knox unjustly accused.
Lorne did several readings, and Knox sang “Jessie’s Girl” with a ridiculous amount of enthusiasm. Lorne confirmed to Fred that he was indeed, a bad egg.
“You woulda looked great in blue though, honey,” Lorne said, much to everyone’s confusion.
***
“I’ve been thinking about this plan of yours,” Xander said, standing in the doorway of Angel’s apartment. He’d hardly been back to his studio in Santa Monica in recent weeks, except to stuff a change of clothes in a backpack. The one time he’d worn a shirt and tie of Angel’s with his suit from the night before, he’d gotten some very penetrating looks from Wesley and Spike.
“You know this plan isn’t going to end well. Not for you, not for any of us,” Xander continued, walking in to sit on the corner of the bed. Angel was lying on his back, his shirt off, the top of his jeans unbuttoned. He lifted his head and then let it fall back on to the pillow.
That’s what today was about,” Angel said. “Now that you all know what’s going on, you each can choose what you want to do. Everyone said they’d see it through. Even you.”
“Everyone would do anything for you,” Xander replied. “But they haven’t really had time to think about it, and to realize that you’re leading them into certain death. I’ve been there, done that, you may recall. Little place, name of Sunnydale? Looking back though, I’m not so sure everyone that followed Buffy in there really needed to do so.”
“And did you make up their mind for them then?” Angel asked.
“No, no I didn’t. I was all rah-rah about the big fight. I’m trying to say that this is in hindsight. We all rushed into the big fight, and here I am again, looking at people rushing headlong into yet another big fight, and I’m thinking that there’s always going to be a big fight. Someone needs to fight a small fight. A miniscule fight, even.”
“There are plenty of small fights to be had,” Angel said. “And plenty of people out there to fight them. It isn’t like evil is going to go away if I destroy the Circle. But this fight here, now, has to be fought.” Angel’s head sank back in the pillow and his eyes were shaded. Xander couldn’t see what was in them. “Tell me you understand, Xander.”
“I’m sure you know I do,” Xander said.
Angel turned over on his side and faced him. “Let’s say, for argument’s sake, that I’ve gotten soft, and can’t really make all the sacrifices I need to make.”
“What are you talking about?”
“If I asked, would you let me save you?” Angel asked.
“I don’t think I can let you do that. Buffy tried, and I’m not sure I’ve forgiven her yet.”
“I need you to do something for me, then. It’s because I trust you, but also because I’m selfish. I want you to live.”
“I want me to live, too.” Xander said. “But I don’t walk away from the fight. End of story.”
“Well, there’s a story I want you to hear. It’s about a boy. A boy named Connor.”
When Angel finished, Xander thought he understood. “You love him a lot,” Xander said softly.
Angel sighed. “All out of proportion. More than you can imagine. I thought I knew what immortality meant, but I didn’t. Connor is my immortality, my mark on the world. He’s my heart.” Angel’s face was soft in the shadows. His hands made round, tracing gestures against the light, which was darkening with the close of day.
“The rest feels temporary,” Xander said, turning his head to look again at Angel, stretched out on the bed and trusting his thoughts to Xander. When Angel looked at him sharply, he said, “Don’t worry, it’s okay. It all feels temporary to me, too.” He lost his heart once. Maybe more than once. And when things and people were liable to become nothing but a giant sinkhole in the earth, the rest really did feel impermanent.
Xander thought about what Angel was doing. How Angel was making the biggest sacrifice he’d ever make, but not for himself, or for a heroic ideal, but for his son and the people he cared about. He wanted a better world for Connor. He hadn’t gone soft with all the luxuries of Wolfram & Hart, he’d actually grown stronger. Xander wanted that better world, too. And he had to admit, he wanted the permanence of love.
“So help me protect my heart,” Angel said and reached for him.
***
Xander tells Lorne that he doesn’t have to follow Angel’s last order. “Loose ends, there’s always loose ends, Lorne. You have to live with yourself.”
Lorne looks uncertain. He’s always believed in Angel for all the right reasons. But Xander senses how hard this will be on Lorne and he feels sorry for him. “If Lindsey gives you any trouble, shoot him in the knee and leave him. But I don’t see the harm in tossing him in the getaway car.”
“You don’t know Lindsey like we know Lindsey,” Lorne says grimly.
“Maybe. But people change, you know?”
And Lorne agrees with him, because Lorne has seen this happen; he’s heard Lindsey sing more than a few times over the years. He knows that improbable doesn’t always mean impossible.
***
Spike is going to stand by Angel. Xander figured that would be the case, knowing Spike, but he gives Spike the option anyway.
“There’s room in the car, you know.”
“You’re a peach, Harris,” Spike says. “But really, I’m good. You’ve got to take Fred and the others away if it comes down to it. And you know, tell Buffy…” Spike stops and then it’s time for them all to leave to fulfill their part of the grand plan and Spike doesn’t get the words out. Xander nods and gives him what he thinks is his reassuring eye, and he hopes Spike gets it.
It really does come down to it.
In fact, Xander barely gets out of the parking garage before the earth starts to shake and Connor comes running from the building and jumps into the car. “Go, go,” Connor says, and his voice is a hard edge that makes Xander wince.
No one wants to leave Angel. Everyone loves him and would follow him into the abyss if he asked. He did ask Gunn, and even though Xander hates him a little for that, he swallowed his argument when Gunn explained the meaning behind it. "Man doesn't go into a fight without the muscle. That's what I am." Angel’s asked much more of his friends before, and he's had to live with the outcome. Today though, Xander’s car is his salvation. Angel is trying to save the ones that he can.
Xander pulls around to the front where Lorne waits with a surly Lindsey slumped nearby. Lindsey doesn’t want to get in, naturally, and they have a macho moment where Xander explains to him that he ought to be dead ten times over right now and if Lindsey wants to be useful he should just get in the car and shut his stupid mouth. Lindsey stares at Xander for a few moments. Then he gets in and actually shuts up.
Fred comes toward them at a dead run. She holds a vial of lethal-to-demons bacteria that she cooked up in her lab. It’s empty. She did her part. Wesley isn’t back and Xander sees the look of utter fear and complete hope on her face.
“We can’t wait,” Xander tells her. It’s one of the hardest things he’s ever done. And he’s done a lot of hard things.
Fred’s face crumples, and she turns away from the car. She says she’s not leaving Wesley behind.
“We’re the heart,” Xander says to Fred. “They can’t ever get along without the heart.” He wasn’t on the front lines in the final Sunnydale showdown, but he got out alive while part of his heart didn’t. He knows what Fred feels; he does.
The heart has to go on beating or the game is lost. He tells Fred this. She gets into the car, but doesn’t turn forward, keeps looking out the back until there’s nothing to see but darkness and smoke.
Xander doesn’t look back at all, because Angel told him not to.
**end**
That Love is all there is,
Is all we know of Love;
It is enough, the freight should be
Proportioned to the groove.
--Emily Dickenson
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