Brothers

On the third floor of the hotel, a suite had been converted in a training room, complete with mats on the floor, a couple of punching bags, weapons on the walls, all of it very much like the Magic Box’s back room. Steven had requested it from his father, and of course the Poof had been happy to oblige. From what Spike knew, father and son trained together sometimes, but there was no doubt in his mind whom Steven liked best to practice with.

For once, they weren’t sparring barehanded, but using heavy swords, wrapped in layers of thick leather to avoid accidents. No need to draw blood for simple practice. The vampire and the not-completely-human kid were both wielding the swords with practiced ease. It was Steven’s favorite weapon – apart from his hands – and Spike was proud of having taught him to use it so well.

As they slowly circled each other, taking a brief pause in the cycle of attacks and feints they had been going through for a few minutes, Spike couldn’t help thinking of other training sessions they had shared. Usually they were quiet as they sparred, the only words uttered being warnings or advice from Spike. But when Steven decided to talk, the conversations could take surprising turns.

“Spike? Can I… ask you something?”

Punch. Duck. Kick. Jump.

“Go ahead, kid. But don’t let your guard down.”

Still fighting, Steven apparently tried to find the right words to start. Spike just concentrated on avoiding the hits and returning them. Finally, the seventeen-year-old took a deep breath and decided, never breaking the fight.

“How do you tell a girl that… you kinda… love her?”

Punch. Contact. Stunned vampire on the floor, looking up at a sheepish young man.

“Uh, maybe we shouldn’t fight and talk at the same time?” he suggested hesitantly.

Spike blinked several times before taking the outstretched hand that was offered to him. Instead of getting to his feet, he used the leverage to pull Steven down.

“Never let your guard down,” he stated calmly. “And why ask me, anyway? Ask your bleeding father, that’s his job.”

Steven leaned back to lie on the floor, hands locked behind his head.

“It’s just not easy to talk to him about some stuff.”

“I thought you two were doing better?”

Trying to sound as unconcerned as possible, Spike studied the kid on the floor, who just shrugged, eyes fixed on the ceiling.

“We’re OK,” he said at last. “But for some things it’s easier to talk with you.”

Spike didn’t answer immediately, and Steven took the opportunity to add a little more.

“Also… it makes more sense, because you know her better than he does.”

Spike chuckled lightly. There was no need to ask who was ‘her’.

“How did you tell Buffy?” Steven insisted as Spike was giving no clue that he was going to answer.

The question sobered the vampire instantly. He lay back on the floor beside Steven; eyes squeezed shut, a self deprecating smile flirting with his lips.

“You don’t want to follow my example, kid. Believe me on that one.”

“Why not? She loves you, too, so whatever you said must have worked.”

This time, Spike couldn’t help laughing out loud, though it sounded oddly sad to his own ears.

“It didn’t work…quite the contrary, actually.”

“What happened?”

Spike hesitated before deciding to answer. He had never lied to the kid, he wasn’t about to start now.

“I chained her to a wall and threatened to give her to Drusilla if she didn’t give me a chance. After that, it took a Hell Goddess poking her fingers inside my chest to make her begin to tolerate me again.”

And, he finished mentally, the kiss it earned me was worth the torture a hundred times.

Steven knew about Glory and Dawn’s origins, so he didn’t comment on that. But another detail had caught his attention.

“Who is Drusilla? It’s not the first time I’ve heard that name but no one ever told me who that is.”

Spike cursed silently to himself at the slip. Talking about his ex wasn’t exactly on his list of top ten things to do with Steven, especially considering the history she had with the kid’s father. But, as earlier, Spike didn’t want to lie to the boy, and avoiding the topic completely was just the same as lying. Maybe a light version of the truth…

“Drusilla is a vampire. She was my… the one I loved. Before Buffy.”

There. All true, but nothing gruesome or compromising for Angel. Nothing that would prompt the damn Poof to give Spike an angry phone call if he heard about it. Apparently, it was enough for Steven, because he dropped the subject and asked again:

“So how do I tell Dawn?”

“Tell her what, exactly?”

Spike got to his feet and walked to the couch where his duster lay. From the corner of his eye, he looked at the door leading to the shop as he searched his pockets for his cigarettes and lighter.

“You know what,” the kid said, annoyed. “How do I tell her I love her?”

He jumped to his feet too, looking puzzled by Spike’s smirk. The kid still hadn’t noticed the young woman who was standing by the door, which proved just how distracted he was.

“I think you just told her,” Spike said as he walked to the back door.

Before he got out into the alley, he turned toward the two now-crimson teenagers who were staring at each other.

“I’ll be just outside and the door is wide open,” he pointed out sternly. “So don’t get any ideas.”

“Bloody hell!”

The familiar curse escaped Spike’s lips as the kid managed to break through his defenses and hit him across the ribs. Had the swords not been bundled in leather, he would have had a very nasty wound. As it was, Spike was sure it would bruise.

“Your mind wasn’t on the fight,” Steven said with a small grin, repeating words that he had heard many times.

“You’re right,” Spike admitted. “I was thinking about Dawn.”

As he said the name softly, the vampire feinted to the left, before shifting to the right. Usually, Steven saw through that kind of move immediately and could defeat it. But the simple mention of the girl had made him lose his concentration, as Spike had hoped. His sword was now on the floor, while the tip of Spike’s was pressing against the hollow of his throat.

“Now, who isn’t paying attention, kid?”

Steven only smiled good-naturedly and raised his hands, admitting his defeat. Spike lowered his weapon and picked up the kid’s from the floor, returning them both to their places on the wall.

He knew he should stop thinking of Steven as of a kid – just like he knew his Bit wasn’t a baby anymore – but he just couldn’t help it. And Steven had never complained about the nickname anyway. Though he wouldn’t let anyone else call him ‘kid’.

Lost in his thoughts, Spike shook his head. As difficult as it was, he would need to get used to the idea that the two teenagers were not children any longer. Hell, a few more months and they wouldn’t even be teenagers either!

It was Steven’s last day in Sunnyhell before returning to LA and, as usual, he was spending his morning sparring with Spike at the Magic Box while Dawn was at school. Becoming the best fighter possible seemed to be an obsession for the young man, and Spike didn’t mind being the one to help him. Quite the contrary. He actually enjoyed teaching the kid all that a hundred years of fights and brawls all around the world had taught him.

For the time being, they were taking a break, Steven gulping down water while Spike drank some warm blood.

“She kissed me again,” the kid said suddenly, sending Spike into fits of coughing.

The vampire made a noncommittal noise. He really, really didn’t want to hear about that. Denial land was such a nice place to dwell in. His Nibblet was just a baby, there was no way…

“What should I do… after kissing?” Steven asked, as quiet as he was hesitant. “I mean… it was really nice and all but I… I wanted more. And I think she expected more, too. So what do I do?”

Spike glared at the blushing kid, both for what he was asking and for asking it to him.

“Unless you want me to break both your arms, you do absolutely nothing.”

Steven gave a start at the growled threat and his eyes finally left the floor to find Spike’s.

“You know I would never hurt her.”

Silent for a moment, Spike considered the young man in front of him carefully. He truly was as innocent as a child. More so, maybe. He might know all there was to know about killing demons, but on some other subjects he was completely clueless. A pity for him, but all the better as far as Spike was concerned. That was why the vampire was almost surprised to hear himself ask:

“Either of your fathers ever told you how babies come to be?”

Holtz was still a subject better avoided, but Spike was annoyed and didn’t care at that moment.

“Both just said… that vampires can’t have kids, and that I was a miracle, and that Darla dusted herself so that I could live.”

‘Darla’… Spike had never heard Steven call her ‘my mother’. Just like he very rarely referred to Angel as ‘my father’.

“Yeah, well, you’re not exactly a good example. Ask Peaches when you get home. He should remember a thing or two.”

Spike winced at hearing his own words. Maybe Angel wasn’t the best teacher for this kind of things. Spike remembered all too well some of Angelus’ lessons. Of course, and thankfully for him, Steven was Angel’s son, and not Angelus’ Childe.

“You love him, don’t you?”

Again, the question came completely out of the blue, and left Spike speechless.

“I mean, I’ve heard you talk about him for a year now, and he talks a little about you sometimes too. He said once that he loves you like a son. Do you love him like a father?”

To give himself time to conceal his shock, Spike busied himself with his thermos bottle of blood. It was one thing to suspect that Angel thought of him as his son. It was still quite another to know he had actually admitted it. And his feelings for the Poof were not something he liked to think about.

“It’s not that simple,” he said at last, very quietly.

“You said the same thing when I asked you if you hated him.”

“Probably because both things are true.”

There was a short silence, and then Steven declared almost too softly even for vampire ears:

“I don’t hate him anymore.”

“That’s good,” Spike replied absently. “He had done nothing to deserve your hatred.”

His gaze caught Steven’s who was watching him with curiosity.

“What did he do to deserve yours?”

“Don’t you ever tire of asking questions?” Spike asked, more harshly than he meant to.

Feeling restless, the vampire jumped to his feet and approached the punching bag. The first few hits were weak, but soon he had found a comfortable rhythm. Steven moved behind the bag, holding it in place. He said nothing, but Spike knew he was hurt.

“’M sorry, kid,” he muttered between punches. “Some memories are just not meant to be shared.”

“That’s OK, I understand.”

Spike almost laughed at that. No, he didn’t, couldn’t understand. If he did, he would be running away and having nothing to do with him or Angel, either one, ever again.

As he pummeled the innocent bag, Spike’s thoughts ran over old – and not so old – memories. So much, Angel and Angelus had been to him. Sire, first and foremost, but not only that. Abuser. Friend. Punisher. Master. Traitor. Lover. Rival. Father.

He delivered a last, much harder blow, and Steven let out a little grunt as the bag slammed him. He gave the kid a lopsided grin.

“Yeah,” he said softly. “He is like my father.”

Among many other things.

“So we’re like brothers!” Steven exclaimed with a bright smile.

The vampire gave a short laugh.

“’Took you long enough to figure that out!”

Spike remembered having had the exact same thought the first time he had met the kid, in this very room. Had it only been one year before? He sometimes felt like he had known him all his life.

He went back to sit on the couch, grabbing his blood container again, aware that Steven was following him. The kid sat on the floor, a few feet in front of the couch, legs drawn up and arms around them.

“A brother would explain to me,” he said solemnly, taking Spike by surprise yet again.

“Explain what to you?” Spike asked warily, expecting Steven to ask again about his relationship with Angel.

“Explain… you know… what to do after kisses?”

For a few seconds, Spike could only give his newfound brother a blank stare. So, that was what this whole family talk had been about. The kid had just been trying to soften him up so that the vampire would feel compelled to answer his question. The most surprising thing was that it was working, and Spike was almost ready to comply.

“Next time,” he said with a low growl. “Next time you come to Sunnyhell, I will explain to you. But no practice, mind. Dawn is a baby and you’re not putting your hands on her. Got that?”

He could see Steven’s hesitation before he answered, and was practically sure it was about the Dawn being a baby part, not about the rest.

“OK,” he said at last. “Next time.”

Steven had a little smile, somewhere between hopeful and satisfied, and Spike had the sudden urge to bang his own head against the wall. Repeatedly. How in hell had he let the kid manipulate him so? It wasn’t his role to talk about the birds and the bees. Especially when he knew perfectly well the bird was his Bit.

“Hand to hand?” Steven asked enthusiastically.

Spike only nodded, thinking back to the conversation that had followed his promise. Steven hadn’t come back to Sunnydale for four months after that, and Spike had hoped he would have forgotten about their deal. Of course, no such luck. It had taken a few beers for Spike to start talking, but he wasn’t drunk as he explained to a wide-eyed Steven the art of lovemaking. He had wanted his explanation to be short and clinical, yet before he knew it he was talking about love, tenderness, and how to make a lady feel beautiful and special. From Steven’s reaction, that was exactly what he had wanted to hear about. After that little talk, though, for the rest of his stay the boy hadn’t been able to look at Dawn without blushing brightly. It was at that time that Spike had started to keep a closer eye on them, which annoyed Dawn to no end and amused Buffy just as much. Steven himself had never complained about it.

As Spike reflected on the unexpected duties that came with being an older brother to a teenage boy, said boy was launching a flurry of attacks on him, using both hands and feet. Spike could defend while giving the fight only half his attention, but he wouldn’t win like that. And he did intend to win, if for no other reason than that his Slayer had said she would spar with the winner.

Emptying his mind of anything that wasn’t his opponent, the vampire started returning the blows and attacking, instead of just defending. He managed at last to send the kid to the floor, and was about to boast shamelessly when an obviously very angry Angel burst through the door. The older vampire strode to Spike, stopping very close and glaring at him through golden eyes.

“What kind of sick game are you playing, Childe?” he roared.

The part of Spike that remembered Angelus anger and punishments wanted to crawl and beg forgiveness for whatever it was that had angered his Sire. But, as he had so often told Steven, Angel was not Angelus. He knew he could defeat Angel if it came to that. Also, the kid was just behind him, his Childe and love was a few steps behind Angel, and he would be ashes before he let either of them see him as weak. And for God’s sake, he was a Master in his own right, not a simple fledgling anymore!

So he did nothing save calmly return Angel’s stare.