lit_gal | Kin of the Soul

Once upon a time there was Kin of the Heart where Angel and Xander learned to be friends. Now we're working towards something entirely different.

tamingthemuse , but I do hope you enjoy. Let's call this 47A

( Part One ) ( Part Two ) ( Part Three ) ( Part Four ) ( Part Five ) ( Part Six ) ( Part Seven ) ( Part Eight ) ( Part Nine ) ( Part Ten ) ( Part Eleven ) ( Part Twelve ) ( Part Thirteen ) ( Part Fourteen ) ( Part Fifteen ) ( Part Sixteen ) ( Part Seventeen ) ( Part Eighteen ) ( Part Nineteen ) ( Part Twenty ) ( Part Twenty-One ) ( Part Twenty-Two ) ( Part Twenty-Three ) ( Part Twenty-Four ) ( Part Twenty-Five ) ( Part Twenty-six ) ( Part Twenty-Seven ) ( Part Twenty-eight ) ( Part Twenty-nine ) ( Part thirty ) ( Part Thirty-one ) ( Part Thirty-Two ) ( Part Thirty-Three ) ( Part Thirty four ) ( Part Thirty-five ) ( Part Thirty-Six ) ( Part Thirty-Seven ) ( Part Thirty-Eight ) ( Part Thirty-nine ) ( Part Forty ) ( Part Forty-one ) ( Part Forty-two ) ( Part Forty-three ) ( Part Forty-four ) ( Part Forty-five ) ( Part Forty-six )

Xander lay in his bed watching Angelus' hand trail down his arm, his fingertips tracing the same lazy trail that Angel had always followed. Yesterday, Xander would have taken comfort in that. He would have watched Angelus' hand slowly caress him, and he would have taken it for proof that Angelus, like Spike, could learn to love. A demon learned from the human soul who had first owned the body, and maybe Angelus could learn from Angel, too.

But Angel never would have said that to Faith. And watching them fight, Xander had realized that Angelus was prepared to kill her... her and Graham... if she didn't surrender. He would have killed her or raped her to make her submit, and Xander still wasn't sure which would have been worse, and he'd just sat there and let him happen, which made him worse than Angelus. Angelus had the whole no-soul excuse. Xander was just a coward.

"M'fhear, should I get Wesley?" Angelus asked. Xander looked up from that large hand still slowly stroking his arm and into concerned brown eyes. Was that love? Xander had thought so, but now he was wondering if it was just concern that one of Angelus' toys wasn't up to amusing him. "You don't smell well."

"I told you sniffing is rude," Xander said, but his voice was weak.

Angelus smiled at him anyway. "And I always agreed and then continued to smell you." He was amused now, but the worry hadn't left his eyes. Xander looked back down at the hand trailing over his arm in slow circles. Usually by now Angelus was well into the sexual act, but tonight he seemed oddly willing to simply lay close. Xander's body wanted to sink into the familiar comfort and push all other thoughts aside, but he couldn't. He'd never been good at self-deception. Oh, he could spin a mean story about how his eye really got black, one that didn't involve tripping over a tombstone while chasing a vampire in tenth grade, but he wasn't one of those who could lie to himself.

"How many people have you killed?" Xander asked, his mouth blurting the words before his brain could register the fact that he probably didn't want to have this conversation. He looked up at Angelus' face, but Angelus' expression hadn't changed.

"A few people on the street, three watchers sent to investigate and report back and a few Wolfram and Hart employees who annoyed me. They tried returning Darla to life thinking that I wanted to be under the thumb of a treacherous sire." Angelus' expression made it fairly clear how he felt about that.

"Darla's back?"

"Not anymore."

Xander frowned, not understanding what happened.

"I ripped her head off."

Gasping, Xander stared at Angelus. "But you were all conflicted about having to stake her, you did major angst last time."

Angelus raised an eyebrow.

"Angel did major angst," Xander corrected himself.

"Angel had confused his feelings for his mother and his sire. Darla considered me a toy, a plaything, and maybe Angel was willing to put up with that in order to sooth his guilt over feeding on his mother, but I'm not. I fed on the mother because she deserved it. She was weak. She lived under the thumb of that man until death was more than likely a blessing. And Darla... well, she was a good fuck and a great teacher, but I don't need either from her—not anymore." Angelus reached over and slapped Xander on the hip, a gesture unique to him.

"And the watcher guys?"

"Why the interest in my feeding habits? If your soul bothers you, remember that I have killed more vampires than Angel managed in a hundred years. The city is safer for having me as the master of LA rather than that ineffectual excuse of a vampire who refused to take the power there waiting for him."

Xander frowned, because that was true, too. For the first time in a long time, he wished Father Peter was here to talk these things through with, but somehow, he didn't see that going over well with Angelus.

"Before ye go thinking too hard, boy, remember that I never asked your permission to be who I am. I am a vampire, and I'll not be pretending I'm anything else."

Xander looked into yellowed eyes. "I say things that piss you off all the time—it's part of my charm," he pointed out, but fear was prickling at the edges of his awareness, and Angelus never liked to smell fear on him.

"I can protect you from the likes of the watchers." Angelus laughed. "The head of their hunter team will be giving them trouble enough for quite a while. I haven't made such a strong vampire since Penn." Angelus looked amused. "If he gives his former bosses half as much trouble as Penn gave me as a fledge, they will too busy to bother us for many years. And a demon summoned by Wolfram and Hart dispatched the Oracles, so there are not threats to the clan, a choi." Oh shit. Shit and shit and more shit with a side of cold-hearted bastard. Xander's stomach twisted into unfamilar shapes as he considered a new terror turned loose on the world, and not even a normal terror, but an Angelus-created terror. Penn, Dru, even Spike--they were monsters several steps ahead of the normal monster because Angelus was good at creating evil.

And Xander was laying in bed with him--the monster creator. Xander wondered if some family in England was dying right now. Shit. How much damage could a vamped watcher do what with all the demon knowledge the human had come ready made with. It was like one of those sponges you dropped in water and it turned twenty times bigger. After seeing Giles' family issues and Wesley's family issues, Xander was willing to be watchers in general had issues, and now Angelus had taken the issues and added water, and 'poof'--instant evil.

"No threats. That's good," Xander said weakly, struggling to turn off his brain, which was spinning like a gerbil in a wheel. Yep, he was just gerbil brains. And considering that he had just now figured out that he had to find a way to take Angelus out, he was going to be very dead gerbil brains if he wasn't careful. However, no way would Angel want his body out creating uber-vampires to torture groups of people—not even the watchers, and Angel was not a watcher fan.

Nope, Angelus wasn't Angel, and he never would be Angel, and this weird Angelish period would end the minute Angelus stopped and thought about unhappy things like aging and dying and leaving. And somehow, Xander didn't think that Angelus was going to handle having his family grow old and die very well, which meant that as time marched on, Angelus was going to be forced to act more and more like Angelus just to keep his toys and his clan and his illusions. He'd turn them. Xander knew that now. And once he'd turned them, the whole watcher attack would get more and more common because Angelus wouldn't have to worry about having some tender human whose feelings he had to keep in mind.

Xander wondered what kind of a vampire he'd be. Would he be all issuey and try to conquer the world? If he'd been turned at sixteen, he so would have been another Angelus. Maybe he'd be a depressed vampire who would sit and stare at a sunbeam all day. Hopefully, he wouldn't find out because if Angelus turned him, there was not going to be anything keeping him from going Scourge of California. Or Scourge of L.A. maybe because Angelus seemed to like having a permanent court. He could go on killing vacations to the Keys or the South of France and then come home to his lair. Xander could feel the hysteria like a bubble in his chest slowly growing bigger until he felt like he couldn't breathe.

"I'm getting Wesley," Angelus suddenly announced. "I should turn a doctor." That last statement finally made the bubble burst, and Xander gasped for air, seeing spots in front of his vision. Yep, that was Angelus' solution to everything, and that's why Xander had to stake the man he loved. And god help him, because when he died, Xander was so ending up in hell with Angelus rather than up with Angel. He shouldn't love someone who could just casually comment on murdering someone. He shouldn't. But his gerbil brains very clearly did.

The hysteria slipped out of Xander in gasping breaths and weak laughter. Maybe this was hell. The door flew open, Angelus, naked, was dragging a still-dressed but rather rumpled looking Wesley. For some reason, Harmony was trailing just behind, hovering at the open door.

"Xander?" Wesley knelt down at the edge of the bed, his hand cool on Xander's forehead. "He seems a little warm."

"I'm fine." Xander pushed Wesley's hand away, but he couldn't seem to catch his breath, so he sat gasping.

"You are not fine. I'll find a doctor." Angelus turned to go, but the thought of him out there turning a random dude made Xander's abused lungs feel like they were on fire. He gasped desperately, but he couldn't seem to get any oxygen in.

"You have to slow down, Xander," Wesley advised him. Yeah, like that helped. Xander couldn't get enough air now, and if he slowed down any, he was going to die from lack of oxygen. "I need a paper bag."

The world was streaked with gray spots that moved like drunk fish, and Xander grabbed the arm of someone who slipped in behind him. He grabbed the arm and held on for dear life because the whole losing control of his body just sucked.

"Is he...?" Angelus' voice boomed and echoed oddly.

"He's hyperventilating. He just needs to slow down his breathing."

A hand reached around, covering Xander's mouth, and Xander exploded. He shoved and twisted and bit in a desperate attempt to reach the air.

"Here. Here. I got one." Harmony's voice warbled, and then Xander could breathe again, but the air was hot and stale as someone pushed a paper bag over his face. But it was better than not breathing, so Xander gasped for air and relaxed into the strong arms holding him tightly.

"He's breathing better. What happened to him?" Angelus sounded cranky. Even worse, Wesley looked ready to pee his pants, and for the first time, Xander considered that Wesley might be having the more rational reaction and Xander might have been grossly underestimating the epic bad of having Angelus back.

"Sometimes the cheerleaders did that before a big competition," Harmony offered. "Or after sometimes. Betty would finish her last jump and smile for the judges and then we'd have to just about carry her off the stage." Xander looked up, wondering why Harmony was even here. "It's a human thing," she said with a shrug, like that was below her. Even though Xander was being held close to Angelus' chest—too close to see his expression—it was clear from the way Harmony turned and ran that she had gotten one of those looks. Yep, Angelus had one serious "I'm going to kill you" looks, and Xander was fairly sure he wasn't kidding.

"Anxiety attacks are common both before and after major stress," Wesley offered. Yep, good old Wesley was right. Deciding that you had to stake the three hundred year old monster that was holding you close and stroking your arm soothingly—that was stress. That was major stress and potential therapy and permanent psychological damage all rolled into one. But that was the only solution Xander could see.

"Why are you stressed, Xander?" Angelus asked. Xander closed his eyes and focused on just breathing because his lungs suddenly didn't want to work. "M'fhear?"

"We were all worried about how far Faith would push you. This is probably just a reaction to tonight," Wesley answered for Xander. Xander looked up gratefully, and from the expression on Wesley's face, Wesley suspected he was lying for Xander.

"She's back in the clan now, so you can calm down, m'fhear. We'll get that idiot Spike back and send Blair back to Washington, and then everything will be as it should be." Angelus finally let Xander push the bag away, and Xander drew in a full breath of fresh air. For a second, he was afraid the room would start to crush his lungs again, but air actually moved in and out of his lungs. After 20 years of knowing how to breathe, Xander had never expected to lose that particular ability, and he could now definitely say that it was not a pleasant experience.

"I just freaked a little. I'm okay. I'm fine." Xander rested his hand against Angelus' knee and felt a wave of guilt so heavy that he gasped for a breath before he forced himself to slow down.

"You are really an incredibly bad liar."

Xander twisted around, which wasn't easy with Angelus' arms tightening around him.

"Oh dear," Wesley muttered.

Standing in the middle of the bedroom, Anyanka had on a very odd expression as she studied him and Angelus. It took Xander a second to figure out that it was lust, and then he dropped his paper bag and clutched the sheet closer. Okay, seriously, as often as people popped into his bedroom, he seriously needed to start wearing pajamas.

"So. Year's up," she announced cheerfully.

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